A STUDY OF SHAKESPEARE AND OF ELIZABETHAN SPORT He that will understand Shakespeare must not be content to study him in the closet, he must look for his meaning sometimes among the sports of the field -DR JOHNSON T HE DIARY OF MASTER WILLIAM SILENCE A STUDY OF SHAKESPEARE 6- OF ELIZABETHAN* SPORT BY THE RIGHT HON. D. H. MADDEN VICE-CHANCELLOR OF THE UNIVERSITY OF DUBLIN LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON NEW YORK AND BOMBAY I8 97 All rights reserved PBEFACE A GOOD many years ago accident brought to my knowledge the sport of hunting the wild red deer, which has been carried on in the Forest of Exrnoor from time immemorial in accordance with ancient usage. The existence and nature of this pursuit had not as yet become matters of common knowledge. The Master at that time was Mr. Fen wick Bisset, an Irish gentleman settled in Somersetshire, to whom the sport owed its excellence and fame, if not its continued existence. Mr. Samuel Warren, of Dulverton, was secretary ; the huntsman, Arthur Heal, was at the zenith of his fame ; and the Rev. John Russell, although some seventy years had passed (so I learned from his lips) since he first hunted the wild red deer, had not as yet entered upon the duties of the parish in which he spent the last years of his life. Beginning and ending with the long vacation, the wild sport of stag-hunting offered many attractions to one whose professional labours forbade him to yield to stronger tempta- tions presented by Irish sport during the working months of the year. Again and again I revisited those happy hunting grounds, and in each succeeding autumn the thoroughly Shakespearian character of the sport and of its surroundings impressed me more and more. I began by collecting passages illustrating the scenes with which I became familiar. Then came the idea of a stag-hunt, after the manner of The Noble Arte of Venerie and of Exmoor, in 2038540 vi PREFACE which a description of the various incidents of the chase might serve to illustrate and to connect the scattered passages in which Shakespeare has recorded his recollec- tions of the harbouring, the unharbouring, the hunting, the baying, and the breaking up of the hart. The hounds were of necessity Master Robert Shallow's, and the tale was naturally told by Master William Silence, the lettered member of the family group. Thus attracted to the study of Elizabethan sport, and gaining some knowledge of what Ben Jonson calls ' the hawking language,' I proceeded to conduct my Gloucester- shire friends, with certain additions to their number, through a variety of scenes, in the company of William Silence, who records his experiences in a diary, and who finally collects certain notes, the loss of which I endeavour to supply in a chapter entitled The Horse in Shakespeare. Every lover of the horse who is a student of Shakespeare must have been struck by the number and appropriateness of his references to horses and to horsemanship ; and I found that some pas- sages which once seemed obscure became clear, and that others gained a new significance, in the light of such knowledge of the old-world phraseology of the manage as may be acquired from the copious sources of information set forth in a note entitled The Book of Sport. Thus, little by little, in successive vacations and spare moments of time, and in varying scenes, the book grew, and with it my amazement at Shakespeare's knowledge of the most intimate secrets of woodcraft and falconry, and, above all, of the nature and disposition of the horse. In his use of this knowledge for the illustration of human character, thought, and action, he stands alone. To understand the lessons which he would thus teach us, it is necessary to know the language in which they are conveyed, and to most readers the languages of ancient woodcraft, of the manage, PREFACE Vll and of falconry are unknown tongues. I venture to hope that these pages may in some degree aid the student of Shakespeare in following the advice of Dr. Johnson prefixed to this volume, and that he may succeed in finding in the sports of the field a meaning which escaped him in the study. Whenever a knowledge of the incidents or of the termi- nology of Elizabethan sport suggested a departure from the text of The Globe Shakespeare, which I have generally adopted, I have noted the variance. The consequence has uniformly been to restore the reading of the Folio of 1623. This circumstance suggested an inquiry into the authority of this edition, which I refer to as 'the Folio.' The result is embodied in a note entitled The Critical Significance of Shakespeare's A llusions to Field Sports, in which I venture to present, for the consideration of Shakespearian critics, certain matters of fact and certain suggestions which forced them- selves on my attention during the. progress of my studies. I have to acknowledge with gratitude the assistance which I received from Dr. INGRAM (Senior Fellow of Trinity College, Dublin) and from Mr. PALMER (Fellow of Trinity College), who have kindly read the proof-sheets of this volume as it came through the press. . I believe that the book requiring least apology from its author is one which adds to our understanding and appreciation of the work or character of one of the great men whom our race has produced. Whether these pages have in this way justified their existence, it is for their readers to determine. D. H. MADDEN. April 23, 1897. CONTENTS PREFACE ........... y I. THE DIARY 1-11 II. How THE HART WAS HARBOURED ...... 12-25 III. How THE HART WAS UNHARBOURED .... 26-40 IV. How THE HART WAS HUNTED 41-57 V. How THE HART WAS BAYED AND BROKEN UP . . 58-66 VI. AFTER THE CHASE 67-84 VII. SUPPER AT SHALLOW HALL 85-105 VIII. THE GLOUCESTERSHIRE JUSTICES 106-119 IX. THE HOLY ALE 120-141 X. THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 142-162 XI. A RIPE ON COTSWOLD 163-192 XII. A DAY'S HAWKING 193-216 XIII. A DEAD LANGUAGE 217-229 XIV. THE TAKING OF THE DEER 230-249 XV. THE HORSE IN SHAKESPEARE 250-317 NOTES NOTE I. THE CRITICAL SIGNIFICANCE OF SHAKESPEARE'S ALLUSIONS TO FIELD SPORTS 318-362 The Folio of 1623, 320. Later Editions, 323. Ben Jonson and the First Folio, 326. Leonard Digges, 328. Titus Andronicus, 329. Shakespeare's Method of Adaptation, 334. King Henry VI., 337. King Henry VIII., 342. Plays not included in the First Folio, 343. Pericles, 345. A Yorkshiae Tragedy, 345. Two Noble Kinsmen, 346. II. THE BOOK OF SPORT 362-368 III. SHAKESPEARE ON ANGLING 368-369 IV. THE BEAR-GARDEN 369-370 CONTENTS V. SIR THOMAS MORE ON FIELD SPORTS VI. ROGUES AND VAGABONDS VII. SHAKESPEARE AND GLOUCESTERSHIRE VIII. THE LANGUAGE OF FALCONRY INDEX OF WORDS &c. INDEX OF SUBJECTS PAOK B70-371 67 1-372 372-374 374-378 379-383 3t)4-3Sti CHAPTEK I THE DIARY 0, like a book of sport thou'lt read me o'er ; But there's more in me than thou understand'st. Troilus and Cressida. ALTHOUGH the fact is not recorded in Camden's Britannia, you may rest assured that for many centuries the worshipful house of Shallow was of repute in Gloucestershire. The family is now extinct ; but the blood and quality of Shallow are so widely diffused throughout the three kingdoms that the fact need hardly be regretted. The founder of this ancient house, one Kobert de Chatel- hault, is said to have flourished in the time of Henry II. Tradition asserts that he served as a butt for the rude witti- cisms of the Court, and that the King at the instigation of Thomas Becket conferred on him a grant of a large tract of land in the ' wilds of Gloucestershire,' in order (as the Chancellor suggested) that he might hold somewhat in capite in default of brains. This practical joke endowed the courtier with posses- sions rather extensive than valuable, and the successive representatives of the house were never particularly success- ful in their efforts to increase them. They had an unhappy knack of attaching themselves to the losing side, not from any generous sympathy with the weaker, but from a firm belief in its prospects of success. They never happened to hit off the right answer to the question put to one of them on a noteworthy occasion, ' under which King, Besonian ? ' B U" 2 THE DIARY Partly from these causes, and partly by reason of some clever, but unlucky, dispositions of their money (among which was a sum of one thousand pounds advanced to one Sir John Falstaff, but not repaid) the estates and possessions of the house decreased rather than increased as years rolled by. It was probably due to inattention to spelling and to the niceties of pronunciation that the family name declined from the high-sounding Chatel-hault to the more homely Shallow : causes which have sufficed to convert De la Pole into Poole, Bourchier into Butcher, Grenville into Greenfield, and De Vere into Weir. The losses, however, as well as the adventures of the family, were on a provincial scale. The head of the house was always a man of considerable position in his county ; and, save in the cut of his beard and the fashion of his clothes, there was but little difference between the Bobert de Chatel-hault of the Plantagenets and the Bobert Shallow of the Tudors. Now, whatever you may think of this account of the name and ancestry of Bobert Shallow (and it is quite as trustworthy as many given by heralds) the man himself was, beyond all doubt, a fact. There was in the year of grace 1586 one Bobert Shallow, Esquire, justice of the peace, if not also of the quorum, and custos rotulorum. The name by which he was known to the Gloucestershire folk of the day is a trifling matter of detail. It was quite as much a matter of course for this Bobert Shallow and his ancestors to keep a kennel of hounds, as to write themselves 'armigero ' in any bill, warrant, quittance, or obligation for the Shallows could mostly write their names and additions. In his park, the dappled fallow deer yielded their lives to the crossbow of the woodman, and were coursed with greyhounds after the fashion of a long-forgotten sport, highly esteemed by our ancestors. His falcon, stooping from her pride of place, struck the mallard by the river banks, and when his tercel-gentle shook his bells, the partridge cowering in the stubble dared not stir a wing. His greyhounds contended for the silver- studded collar, the prize awarded at the games on Cotswold. MASTER ROBERT SHALLOW 3 Trout were caught by tickling in the peculiar river of the Justice, and the young dace was a bait for the old pike in the sluggish Severn. To supply his larder, springes were set to catch woodcocks, birds were taken with lime-twigs, and bat- fowling was not despised, in the absence of better sport. Is it not as certain that Master Silence took part in his kins- man's sports, as that he sang snatches of song after supper in his hall ? What fitter name than Slender for the little man with cane-coloured beard out of his element, and therefore very like a fool, in company with sweet Anne Page, but of whom a different account would be given by the sportsmen on Cotswold, by the warrener with whom he fought, or by the bear-ward when Sackerson was loose ? Master Shallow, we may be sure, would never have troubled himself to push the fortunes of his kinsman Slender, if he had not been beholden to him for something beyond the occasional services of his man Simple. What could Master Slender do for the Justice, but look after his hounds and hawks ? Such a hanger-on was a recognised part of the establishment of an old-fashioned country gentleman. To join in the Justice's sports, the yeomen of the country and burgesses of the neighbouring towns were made heartily welcome, after the good old fashion which still survives in the custom of the English hunting field. The name of one only of the company thus assembled can be stated with absolute certainty, for he has recorded the incidents of each sport with an accuracy unattainable even to the highest genius save by actual experience. It is the name of William Shakespeare. It so happens that by a curious train of circumstances I became possessed of a record of certain events in the history of this Kobert Shallow and his fellows, which took place in the autumn of the year 1586. The story is as follows. In my boyhood I was a frequent visitor at an old-fashioned house in one of the southern counties of Ireland, the home of a family of English descent. The first of the race who settled in Ireland obtained a grant of a portion of the vast u2 4 THE DIARY estates forfeited by the Earl of Desmond. Sir William (so he was known in the family) gave his name to a massive square tower or keep, the oldest part of the rambling and dilapidated residence of his descendants. A chronicle in stone, the old house presented to the eye a sensible record of the vicissitudes endured by the adopted country of Sir William. The entrance hall had been the refectory of a Cistercian abbey, founded by the piety of some forgotten Geraldine. This portion of the ancient building had been incorporated with the massive castle erected by Sir William, for the con- struction of which the remainder of the conventual buildings served as a convenient quarry. The abbey church indeed was spared, and mouldered hard at hand, scarcely concealed from sight by thickly growing laurels. Of Sir William's castle, one tower only remained. The rest of the building had been demolished by one of Cromwell's lieutenants. The earth- works on which his cannon were planted, known to this day as Cromwell's Camp, are plainly traceable in an adjacent field. For several generations, the descendants of Sir William gloomily surveyed the desolation of his castle from the tower which bore his name ; but as times improved they constructed out of the ruins a moderate-sized dwelling-house, in the style of solemn hideousness which prevailed in the early years of the Georges. The upper room in Sir William's tower had always a strange fascination for my imagination. It was used as a lumber-room, and contained a mixed assort- ment of broken furniture, old newspapers and account books, oaken boxes, and worm-eaten books too unsightly for the book-cases which lined the walls of the room beneath, digni- fied by the name of the library. In course of time the old place passed into the possession of a more distant relation ; and, my own employments leading me into different paths, I had all but forgotten Sir William's tower, when I chanced to meet its owner in a London street. I dined with him at his hotel, and listened to his lamenta- tions over the state of the country, by which I understood him to mean the neglected condition of fox coverts and the SPORT IN GLOUCESTERSHIRE 5 destruction of foxes. After dinner he produced a bundle of mouldy papers closely written over in an antique hand, which, he said, had been found among some title deeds in an oaken chest in Sir William's tower. He had brought them with him, thinking that some one might tell him what they were about. " I tried to make them out," said my worthy kins- man ; " but I could not get very far. There is a lot of rubbish about lyme-hounds, vauntlays, hunting at force, and hawk- ing, that I cannot make head or tail of. But the fellow is no sportsman, for he calls the hounds ' dogs,' and says a fox may be killed by gins, snares, as well as by hunting, so that you get rid of the vermin anyhow. When I came to that, I could read no more. But I thought that somebody might make something of it. However, I'm glad I met with you. You're welcome to it. It's of no use to me." I took the papers home, and on examining them I found that they consisted of a journal, in which the writer (who was evidently Sir William, the founder of the family) had recorded with much minuteness the events of some days spent at his father's house in Gloucestershire in the autumn of 1586, shortly before he left England to adventure for Ireland. The journal was kept, the writer said, to preserve for old age a record of the happiest days of his life. The narrative begins with a memorable chase of a hart far into the Cotswold hills, and proceeds to tell of sport with the fallow deer in the park of some Gloucestershire Justice, apparently a kinsman of the writer. Various experiences in hawking are narrated, together with some matters of a per- sonal nature, relating to the writer and one Mistress Anne whose father was a Cotswold man, and an old friend of the Justice. My interest was excited no less by the date of the manu- script, than by its association with Sir William's tower, for I had long been a student of Elizabethan literature, and had taken pains to make myself acquainted with the manners and customs of the age of Shakespeare, Bacon, Marlowe, Ben Jonson, and Spenser. As I read and re-read 6 THE DIARY the narrative, I became more and more conscious of living in the midst of scenes with which I had been long familiar The sensation was borne in on me of having heard all this before, I knew not how or when. By degrees the figures, hazy and undefined at first, began to assume definite forms. There was no mistaking the Gloucestershire Justice for any other than Master Shallow, and this clue once obtained, it was easy to identify Abraham Slender, Justice Silence, Will Squele, and the rest. The writer was evidently a man of some educa- tion. He had been brought up at Oxford, and was a member of one of the Inns of Court. From his references to a sister named Ellen, and to Justice Shallow as his kinsman, I had no doubt whatever as to his identity. He was plainly William, the son of the Gloucestershire gentleman whom we know by the name of Silence. ShaL And how doth my good cousin Silence ? Sil, Good morrow, good cousin Shallow. Shal. And how doth my cousin, your bedfellow ? and your fairest daughter and mine, my god-daughter Ellen ? Sil. Alas, a black ousel, cousin Shallow ! Shal. By yea and nay, sir, I dare say my cousin William is become a good scholar : he is at Oxford still, is he not ? Sil. Indeed, sir, to my cost. Shal. A' must, then, to the inns o' court shortly. 2 Hen. IV. iii. 2. 3. There were frequent references to some stranger from a neighbouring town, a visitor at the house of one whom I identified as Clement Perkes of the Hill the honest yeoman for whose knavish antagonist William Visor of Woncot the countenance of the Justice was bespoken by his serving- man Davy. This young man, carelessly mentioned at first, seemed to acquire a strong and unaccountable influence over the writer's mind. There was a time when I hoped to convince the world that the nameless stranger in Gloucester- shire was none other than William Shakespeare. With this view I collected from time to time, and interwove with the narrative, the various passages in his works which led me to believe that he had been an actor in the scenes described A FRAGMENT OF AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY 7 by the diarist. But I have long since given up all idea of proving to the satisfaction of another mind this, or, indeed, any other proposition, except that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two right angles, or certain other truths similarly proved, and equally interesting. And now, when I read over the result of my labours, I have little hope that any one in this critical age will accept my explanation of the mysterious visitor to Cotswold, and I have some fears lest Sir William and his journal may have to be sacrificed to the doubts of an unbelieving generation. After all, what a book contains is of more importance to the reader than the story of how it came to be written ; and the most sceptical reader of these pages cannot question the fact that Shakespeare tells you here, in his own words, his thoughts and memories of country life. The homely scenes and unintellectual pursuits on which his mind loved to dwell may not be unworthy the attention of yours. And it seems to me that his record of experiences in country life may in some sense be regarded as a fragment of an autobiography : in a limited sense only, and in relation to outward matters , but to facts which he thought of much, and which seriously affected the course of his life : one, moreover, which we may value in the utter hopelessness of any revelation, in his writings or elsewhere, of the inner life and real self of the man Shakespeare. Vainly have succeeding generations beaten against the bars of the impenetrable reserve in which he has enclosed himself. In despair, some have fallen back on their inner consciousness, and have thereout developed theories, hypotheses, and transcendental criticisms. Others ransack archives and registers. These, at all events, discover truth, but mostly in the shape of parchments and entries in worm- eaten books in which the name of Shakespeare is written, with curious diversity of spelling. Take any ' Life of Shakespeare : ' strip it of extracts from registers, copies of conveyances, exemplifications of fines, bonds, wills, pedigrees of Arden, suits for tithes, grants 8 THE DEARY of arms, records of Stratford ; these, and suchlike, are nothing but legal evidence going to prove that he and others were born and married ; that they bought, sold, and dealt with property, like their fellows ; and finally died and were buried. What remains of the man or of his life ? "We know that he lived in the country town of Stratford, probably until his twenty-third year, and it is likely that he exchanged this life for London, not of free choice, but under some sort of compulsion. We know that he invested his earn- ings in the purchase of property about Stratford, and finally in building a house, whither he retired in the full splendour of his fame as a poet, and (what he would seem to have valued more) in the height of his fortune as a manager : that he never troubled himself to collect or edit his plays : and that he ceased to write for the stage some years before his death, which took place somewhat suddenly (it is said) when he was yet in middle life. We may, if we please, believe certain traditions. The most venerable of these was current in Stratford in the seventeenth century, and can be traced to several independent sources. It is the well-known deer- stealing story, thus recorded in its earliest and crudest form by the Eev. Thomas Davies, a Gloucestershire clergyman, who died in 1707 : ' Much given to all unluckinesse in stealing venison and rabbits ; particularly from Sir Lucy, who had him oft whipt and sometimes imprisoned, and at last made him fly his native country to his great advance- ment.' It was generally said at Stratford that his wife and children remained there, and that when his fortunes began to mend he spent each autumn with them. There is another story, traceable also to the seventeenth century* according to which his skill in the matter of horses enabled him to earn a livelihood on his arrival in London distancing all competitors in care of theatre-goers' horses, so that boys at the theatre door (says the story) traded on his name, and would say, " I am Shakespeare's boy, sir." I care not to discuss which is more probable, the sub- stantial truth of these stories, or their entire fabrication ; nor SHAKESPEARE'S MEMORIES OF COUNTRY LIFE 9 yet the further question, how it came to pass that when people invented stories about Shakespeare (if they did invent them) they thought of deer and horses. Shakespeare's love of the country needs no illustration from the gossip of Stratford. It is a simple matter of fact that the life lived in Warwickshire had for him some charm sufficient to with- draw him from the full life of London, forsaking the wit- combats of the Mermaid tavern for a quiet game of shovel-board at the Falcon with John Combe. It is also a matter of fact that his mind was at all times so possessed with images and recollections of English rural life, that he refrained not from attributing a like possession to men of all sorts and conditions, regardless of time, place, or circum- stance. Prospero sets on his spirits in hunter's language, by names well known in Gloucestershire kennels. Ulysses compares Achilles sulking in his tent to a hart keeping thicket. The fallen Caesar suggests to Anthony a noble hart, whose forest was the world, bayed and slain by blood- stained hunters. Titus Andronicus proclaims a solemn hunting after the fashion of Gloucestershire. Egyptians, Athenians, and Romans are intimately acquainted with the coursing matches of Cotswold. Roderigo of Venice and Pandarus of Troy speak the language of English sportsmen. Theseus hunts the country round Athens with hounds as thoroughly English as was the horse of Adonis. The flowers of Warwickshire blossom in every clime, and we encounter in the most unlikely places the familiar characters of rural life under a pent-house at Messina, in the cottage of a Bohemian shepherd, and in the hall of an Italian noble. Shakespeare wrote no drama of country manners. The life of woods and fields was to him something more than a scene for the action of a play or two. It is the atmosphere in which the poet and the creatures of his fancy live, move, and have their being. His reminiscences are scattered through- out his works here a little and there a little. And it seems to me that his scattered hints gain rather than lose in significance, when they are taken from a context with which 10 THE DIARY they have often but slight connection, and are grouped with other passages inspired by a common idea. Some sort of interpretation they need ; for the pursuits and pastimes of the sixteenth century have, for the most part, disappeared with the physical aspect of the country, and without some explanation or illustration suggestions and hints of the past might not be understood. Of field sports, none are generally practised after the fashion of three centuries ago, with the exception of hare hunting in an unenclosed country ; and even the hare is now pursued with other horses and other hounds. Woodlands have been felled. Vast tracts of arable land, then tilled by village commoners on the open field system, have been enclosed and allotted in severalty. What were once tracks across heather- clad or swampy wilds the home of red deer and native horses, are now macadamised highways, separated from richly cultivated fields by banks and hedge-rows. The natural landmarks of hill and river remain ; but even they have suffered a change, and if Master Shallow were now to revisit his Gloucestershire manor, the only object which could satisfy him beyond doubt of its identity is the tower of the village church. If we would realise in some degree the England of three centuries ago, we must seek it in the moorland districts of the west, where the general elevation of the surface has restricted the area of cultivation to the bottoms, and the lower slopes of the hills. Vast tracts of upland re- main unenclosed, the haunt of red deer and moorland ponies. There also primitive manners linger, and ancient sport survives. The hart is hunted as he was hunted throughout England when Elizabeth was Queen. The Noble Arte of Venerie is still cited as an authority. The village fair ; the wrestling green ; the songs and catches of villagers in the inn kitchen ; parson and yeoman discours- ing by the covert side on the mysteries of woodcraft ; the hare hunt on the unenclosed hillside ; the ' assembly ' on the opening day of the hunting season, the ' mort o' the deer ' A HAPPY HUNTING GROUND 11 in the moorland stream ; the frank recognition of differences of rank ; the old-world games ; the harvest-home dinner ; are all stray wafts of the Elizabethan age. No more than distant mutterings of the storms which have since then broken over England have reached the lonely moors of Exe and Barle, and merry England, like the setting sun, lovingly lingers on the hillsides of the west. CHAPTEK II HOW THE HART WAS HAEBOURED \ I with the morning's love have oft made sport, And like a forester, the groves may tread. A Midsummer Night's Dream. THE Justice's deer park had been enclosed under a Eoyal license at a time when a man could no more take to himself without lawful title the right to empark animals ferl informs their experienced ears that ' the hounds are at a bay.' J The hopes of the hunters were raised by the same sounds that caused alarm in the breast of Venus, fearful for the safety of her beloved Adonis, Because the cry remaineth in one place, Where fearfully the dogs exclaim aloud ; Finding their enemy to be so curst, They all strain courtesy who shall cope him first. Ven. and Ad. 885. Who goes first ? Young Fury, trashed though he was, rushed on the foe, and received a wound from the formidable brow antlers of the hart. He retired howling. Who goes next ? The courtesy of the cry became more strained, and the chorus waxed louder and louder, as the gallant hart gave 1 Ven. and Ad. 881. * Ibid. 877. 60 HOW THE HAKT WAS BAYED AND BROKEN UP proof that he was no ' dull and muddy-mettled rascal,' ' but ' in blood ' not alone to run, but to fight too, and sell his life right dearly. He to whose lot it has fallen from time to time to view the hart in his native wild not the dishorned and carted deer in some potato garden ' hold at a bay ' his foes ' the fell and cruel hounds,' will not be surprised to find the image recurring again and again to one present at the death of the Cotswold hart, although he may well marvel at the truthfulness with which every feature of the familiar scene is reflected in the poet's mirror. If any words could convey to the imagination an adequate idea of the effect produced upon the senses, they are surely those put into the mouth of Hippolyta. She tells us that she was with Hercules and Cadmus once, When in a wood of Crete 2 they bay'd the bear With hounds of Sparta : never did I hear Such gallant chiding ; for, besides the groves, The skies, the fountains, every region near Seem'd all one mutual cry : I never heard So musical a discord, such sweet thunder. Mids. N. Dr. iv. 1. 117. The effect of echo in enhancing the cry of hounds ' the musical confusion of hounds and echo in conjunction ' 3 1 Hamlet, ii. 2. 594. A rascal was a lean and worthless deer (Anglo-Saxon = a lean beast). ' Come, you thin thing ; come you rascal,' Mistress Dorothy Tearsheet says pleasantly to Falstaff (2 Hen. IV. v. 4. 34 ; cf. 1 Hen. VI. i. 2 35). ' Muddy,' or ' muddy-mettled ' rascal, would seem from the passage quoted from Hamlet, and from another exclamation of Mistress Tearsheet's (2 Hen. IV. ii. 4. 43) to have been phrases in use among woodmen. ' Thou rascal that art worst in blood to run ' (Coriol. i. 1. 163, cf. Love's L. L. iv. 2. 3, and 1 Hen. VI. iv. 2. 48). In the sense in which it is now used as a term of reproach, it was in the first instance spoken by the ' figure Metaphore .... as one should in reproch say to a poore man thou rascale knaue, when rascall is properly the hunter's terme giuen to young deere, leane and out of season, and not to people.' (Puttenham, Arte of English Poesie, 1589.) Shakespeare was better versed in woodcraft than Puttenham, and he tells us that an old deer may yet be a rascal, as we shall see later on. 2 It is evident that the Spartan hounds and Cretan bears behave after the fashion of the Southern hound and English hart. 3 Mids. N. Dr. iv. 1. 115. ECHO REPLIES 61 was often noted. ' Wilt thou hunt ? ' asks the Lord of Christopher Sly : Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth. Tarn, of Shrew, Ind. 2. 46. And Tainora, the Gothic Queen, thus addressed her beloved Moor: Whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds, Eeplying shrilly to the well-tun'd horns, As if a double hunt were heard at once, Let us sit down and mark their yelping noise. Tit. Andr. ii. 3. 17. In the chase of the hare, when the pack gives tongue and ' spend their mouths : Echo replies As if another chase were in the skies.' ' But it is at the baying of the hart, when hounds are pent within the confines of the narrow valley where he mostly soils, and when the music of the cry is turned to the thunder of the bay as by some mighty organ-stop that the truthfulness of Hippolyta's descrip- tion is borne in on the mind. Then we feel certain that she speaks the words of one who had often stood by wood- land stream, and marked how, by re-echoing the sweet thunder, the groves, the skies, the fountains, and every region near seem'd all one mutual cry, as if all nature took part in the tragedy of the hart at bay. How long this scene would have lasted, had not man interposed, cannot be told. Certain it is that many a gallant hound must have fallen a victim to the fury of the hart, and that the cry would have told a tale of disaster such as that which met the eyes of Venus. Led onwards by the sound of the bay, Here kennell'd in a brake she finds a hound, And asks the weary caitiff for his master, And there another licking of his wound, 'Gainst venom'd sores the only sovereign plaster : And here she meets another sadly scowling, To whom she speaks, and he replies with howling. 1 Yen. and Ad. 695. 62 HOW THE HART WAS BAYED AND BROKEN UP When he hath ceased his ill-resounding noise, Another flap-mouth'd mourner, black and grim, Against the welkin volleys out his voice ; Another and another answer him, Clapping their proud tails to the ground below, Shaking their scratch'd ears, bleeding as they go. Ven. and Ad. 913. As soon as the deer began to hold the hounds at a bay, Slender and the huntsman dismounted. As they approached the stream, a clear voice beside them said : " Give me your horses to hold. I knew well that he must needs take soil in this water when I noted what point he made after breaking thicket." It was the voice of Will Squele. A Cotswold man, he knew every inch of the country ; an old sportsman, he could tell the run of the deer to a nicety ; and while we have been galloping up and down hill with the hounds, he and Anne have taken the shortest road from point to point. " Ecod," says Abraham Slender, " go as I may, Will Squele on Bay Curtal is ever there before me." Clement Perkes and his companion, warily approaching the hart from behind, cast around his antlers a rope carried by the huntsman for that purpose. His head having been thus pulled back, the huntsman cut his throat with his sword, and crying "Ware hound!" to keep the hounds from breaking into the deer, blooded the puppies, ' that they may the better love a deer, and learn to leap at his throat,' as Mr. Cox quaintly explains in his Gentleman's Recrea- tion. 1 The mort o' the deer ' having been duly blown by such of the company as carried horns, there next came the solemnity of taking assay, and breaking up the deer. The assay should be taken by the best person of the company that hath not taken assay before. ' Oure order is,' says the author of the Noble Arte, 'that the prince or chief e (if so please them) doe auger and take assay e of the deare with a sharpe knyf e, the whiche is done in this manner. TAKING ASSAY 63 The deare being layd upon his backe, the prince, chiefe, or such as they shall appoint, comes to it ; And the chiefe hunts- man (kneeling, if it be to a prince) doth holde the deare by the forefoote, whiles the prince or chief cut a slyt drawn alongst the brysket of the deare, somewhat lower than the brysket towards the belly. This is done to see the goodnesse of the flesh, and how thicke it is.' On this occasion the honour of taking assay fell to Mistress Anne Squele. You may realise the scene if you look at an interesting woodcut in the Noble Arte, depicting the chiefest huntsman, on bended knee, handing the knife to a noble lady, while an attendant holds her richly caparisoned horse. But it were long to tell of the cutting and cabbaging of the head, and of the ceremony to be used in taking out the shoulder, and selecting the ' deintie morsels,' and ' the caule, the tong, the eares, the doulcets, 1 the tenderlings (if his head be tender), and the sweet gut, which some call the Inchpinne, in a faire handkercher together, for the prince or chiefe ; ' how a little gristle upon the spoon of the brisket is cast to the crows or ravens which attend hunters ; how there has been seen ' a raven so wont and accustomed to it that she would never fayle to croake and crye for it all the while you were in breaking up of the deare, and would not depart untill she had it ; ' how the numbles or umbles are wound up, to serve in the making of umble-pie. These weighty matters of the art of venery were, indeed, foolishness in the eyes of the learned and satirical Erasmus. 'When they have run 'down their game,' he says of the sportsmen of his day, among whom he held his own when in England, 2 ' what strange pleasure they take in cutting it up. Cows and sheep may be slaughtered by common butchers, but what is killed in hunting must be broke up by none under a gentleman, who shall throw down his hat, fall devoutly on his knees, and drawing out a slashing hanger 1 Two Noble Kinsmen, iii. 5. 154. 2 See Note, Sir Thomas More on Field Sports. 64 HOW THE HART WAS BAYED AND BROKEN UP (for a common knife is not good enough) after several cere- monies shall dissect all the parts as artificially as the best skilled anatomist, while all that stand round shall look very intently, and seem to be mightily surprised with the novelty, though they have seen the same a hundred times before, and he that can but dip his finger and taste of the blood, shall think his own bettered thereby.' l If these daring words had come to the knowledge of our Gloucestershire friends, they would simply have said that much learning had made the writer mad, so firm an article of faith it was that the carcase of the hart should not be thrown rudely to the hounds, as the fox, the marten, or the gray, but should be reverently disposed of. ' Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully ; ' said Brutus of Julius Csesar ; Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods, Not hew him as a carcase fit for hounds. Jul. Gas. ii. 1. 172. Csesar fell, having been given less law by his pursuers than the Cotswold hart. And as we read Mark Antony's words, we could almost believe that he too had stood with Abraham Slender by the waterside ; ' stained with the variation of each soil ' betwixt find and finish, as was ' Sir Walter Blunt new lighted from his horse ; ' 2 and ' bloody as the hunter,' 3 signed and crimsoned with the blood of the deer, after the somewhat barbarous fashion of the chase. Here wast thou bay'd, brave hart ; Here didst thou fall ; and here thy hunters stand Sign'd in thy spoil, and crimson'd in thy lethe. 4 O world, thou wast the forest to this hart ; 1 Erasmus, Maria Encomium. 2 1 Hen. IV. i. 1. 64. 8 Twelfth N. iii. 4. 243. Compare the English herald's description of his troops ; Like a jolly troop of huntsmen, come Our lusty English, all with purpled hands, Dyed in the dying slaughter of their foes. A'. John, ii. 1. 321. 4 Lethe (for which Theobald and Collier read ' death ') according to Capell (Glossary) is ' a term used by hunters to signify the blood shed by a deer at THE HOUNDS ARE REWARDED 65 And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee. How like a deer, strucken by many princes, Dost thou here lie ! Jul. CCBS. iii. 1. 204. As time went on, the observances at the death of the tleer grew into a burden too heavy to be borne. Life became fuller of action and incident, and was felt to be too short for such old-world ceremonies. They were more solemn and elaborate in 1486 ! than in 1575, and a hundred years later they seem to have resolved themselves into the summary process of handing a knife to the prince, or lady of quality, with which to cut the deer's throat, leaving the rest to inferiors : a form in which the ceremony was observed in the forest of Exmoor on a notable occasion in the month of August 1879. 2 The ceremonial of assay and breaking up having ended, the paunch is given to the hounds as their quarry or reward. The blood-hound, or limer, would have been entitled to the first share, according to the usage of the chase, 3 had he been there to claim his rights. But this day's chase exceeded his limited powers of hunting. Keen-scented, but unaccustomed to hunt at large, he has not the trained sagacity which would enable him to run down the scent which he is the first to detect. He is at this moment hunt- ing counter, pursuing the trail backwards, with keen enjoy- ment, across the hills towards Shallow Hall. He is, in the words applied by Dromio of Syracuse to the catchpole, its fall, with which it is still a custom to mark those who come in at the death.' 1 Boke of St. Albans. 2 This custom was generally observed in the last century. Pope contributed to the Guardian a paper on cruelty to animals (No. 61). He dares not attack hunting, ' a diversion which has such authority and custom to support it. ... But,' he adds, ' I must animadvert upon a certain custom yet in use with us, and barbarous enough to be derived from the Goths, or even the Scythians ; I mean that savage compliment our huntsmen pass upon ladies of quality, who are present at the death of a stag, when they put the knife in their hands to cut the throat of a helpless, trembling, and weeping creature, questuque cruentus Atque imploranti similis.' 3 Noble Arte. 66 HOW THE HART WAS BAYED AND BROKEN UP A hound that runs counter and yet draws dry-foot well. 1 Com. of Err. iv. 2. 39. The deer having been thus disembowelled secundum artem, the venison is reserved for the powdering tub, and we know on the best authority that his ' skin's a keeper's fee.' 2 Jack Falstaff had not seen a deer killed for many a year, but he knew well of what the prince was thinking when he said, What, old acquaintance ! could not all this flesh Keep in a little life ? Poor Jack, farewell ! I could have better spared a better man : O, I should have a heavy miss of thee, If I were much in love with vanity ! Death hath not struck so fat a deer to-day, Though many dearer, in this bloody fray. Embowell'd will I see thee by and by : Till then, in blood, by noble Percy lie. (Exit.) Fal. (Rising up) Embowelled ! If thou embowel me to-day, I'll give you leave to powder me and eat me too, to-morrow. 1 Hen. IV. v. 4. 102. The day's sport over, the hounds were recoupled, and a strake of nine, to call the company home, was wound by the huntsman. This had the effect of bringing another figure on the scene. 1 There is a quibble in these words, as in many of Shakespeare's allusions to woodcraft. The counter or compter, according to Dr. Johnson, was the name of a London prison, served by the catchpole, who thus was humorously said to ' run counter ' though keen of scent. ' To draw dry-foot ' was a phrase in con- stant use. Thus Gervase Markham gives instructions by which a horse maybe taught to draw dry-foot, like a hound (Cavalarice). It is used, in contradistinc- tion to tracking footsteps in wet or moist ground, to signify hunting with nothing to guide the hound but the scent where the object of pursuit has passed along dry-foot. Mr. Monck Mason points out that the phrase occurs in an Irish Statute, 10 William III. c. 8, sec. 10, under which the training of a hound ' to hunt on dry foot ' is attached as a condition to obtaining a licence to use a setting dog. The jest would have no prosperity save in the ears of those who knew the defects, as well as the virtues, of the liam-hound, who indeed is often represented in old engravings as held in hand during the chase. Otherwise he would pro- bably be found running counter. The fool in Fletcher's Mad Lover quibbles on the word ' counter ' (i. 1), but his thoughts turn, not to the chase, but to false coin 9 3 Hen. VI. iii. 1. 22. CHAPTEE VI AFTER THE CHASE Where is the horse that doth untread again His tedious measures with the unbated fire That he did pace them first ? All things that are, Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. Merchant of Venice. WHEN William Silence had been passed by Slender on the hillside, all idea of taking part in the chase was at an end. His first thought was of his over-ridden horse. Satisfied that no permanent harm has been done, he applied his mind to the inquiry which way have the hounds gone ? In the wilds of Gloucestershire, as on Exmoor, this question must be asked of nature, not of man. There is this advantage, that nature never lies. But you must know her language. William Silence had not forgotten at Oxford or at Gray's Inn the early teaching of Cotswold. He gains the summit of the hill, and looks around him. In a pool to the right, a heron calmly resting on one leg plainly says neither horse nor hound has passed my way. In another direction sheep huddled in masses, and wild horses disturbed and excited as plainly tell the story of the chase which has swept over the hills in their sight. The deer has most probably made for the wooded valley near Hogshearing. If so, Squele and Anne will be up before he is taken. This was certain. What was to be done ? Should he return home and leave Master Slender in undisputed possession? Or should he follow as best he F 2 68 AFTER THE CHASE could, trusting to his ready wit to regain the advantage which he had lost? This would, at all events, insure an early meeting with Anne Squele. And if this accursed hart would only go elsewhere, and take Abraham Slender with him, no invidious comparisons could be drawn, and he would be sure of a hearty welcome as a victim of one of the numberless mishaps to which hunters are subject. So he makes his way as best he can towards Hogshearing. If the deer has gone in that direction, the riders must have crossed the morass in the bottom of the next valley. There is but one sound crossing, and as Silence reaches it his conjecture is converted into certainty by the sight of fresh prints of horse-hoofs in the soft earth. Still he follows on. At last the sound of the mort reaches his ear, borne thither amidst the intense stillness of the waste. The hart has been killed. No doubt Anne and Slender are making merry over his discomfiture. Still he follows on. He is making his way through the tangled woodland by the stream when a strake of nine, close at hand, reveals the whereabouts of the company. A few more steps bring him face to face with Master Squele, who, with his daughter, was leading the way to the house. "Welcome, Master William," said the cheery franklin. "' Turn back with us. The company will eat and drink under my roof before they turn homewards. 'Tis a good head, a hart of ten. 'Tis a pity you missed the sport when he held the hounds at a bay. But Master Slender says that you had enough of it by the time you were half way up the long hill. Well, I rode not the chase myself to-day. But when I was your age " My horse had enough of it, not I. But 'tis all one. I missed the chase." " Nay," said Anne, " how can it all be one, for by Saint Jamy, I hold you a penny, A horse and a man Is more than one, And yet not many. Tarn, of Shrew, iii. 2. 84. A MOATED DWELLING-HOUSE 69 What, that great and serviceable horse, whose ' tender hide ' * shone so brightly ? Why, when next you and your fellow hunt in these parts, you must condescend to one of those uncomely country curtals which you derided at the as- sembly. And pr'ythee, Master Silence, has Master Ferdi- nand Petre yet regained his great and serviceable mare ? " "I know not," said Silence gloomily. " Be of good heart," said Anne, "you know the country saying, ' Jack shall have Jill ; Nought shall go ill. The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well.' 2 As for you, Master Slender, you and your beast are too fit company ever to part." " Oh la, Mistress Anne." Repartee never was Slender's strong point, much as he had studied the Book of Biddies, and even the Hundred Merrie Tales. The party now emerged from the wood, and found them- selves in front of the old house at Hogshearing so inti- mately associated with Squele. It was a long, low, two-storied house, built of grey stone, with mullioned windows, pointed gables, and high chimneys. Many such residences of the franklin, or country gentleman of moderate means, have escaped destruction on the one hand, and on the other reconstruction and modernisation, by becoming the residences of substantial farmers. It was surrounded by a moat. This appendage of a country house had ceased to be necessary for purposes of defence, and was condemned by the sanitary reformers of the day as unwhole- some. Reformers, however, made but slow progress in those days. Mariana, as we know, lived in the moated grange, and all men could understand when England was compared to a precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands. Rich. II. ii. 1. 46. 1 Yen. and Ad. 298. 2 Mids. N. Dr. iii. 2. 461. 70 AFTER THE CHASE Besides, the moat had its uses. In the absence of a regu- larly constructed fish-pond, it served as a convenient stew, in which fish might be kept and fattened for the master's table. For our ancestors loved fish, even the coarser sorts, especially when cooked with poignant sauce. But whether they loved them or not, they must needs eat them in time of Lent. For even after the Reformation, stringent laws were passed ' against eating of flesh upon days forbidden,' and ' for restraint of eating flesh in Lent, and on fish dayes ; ' and Justice Shallow, when giving the charge at quarter sessions, 1 would commend it to the jury to inquire ' if any person (other than by reason of age, sickness, childing, or licence) have within this year eaten flesh in Lent, or upon any fish day observed by the custom of this realm ; ' and further, ' If any innholder, taverner, alehouse-keeper, com- mon victualler, common cook, or common table-keeper, hath uttered or put to sale any kind of flesh victual upon any day in the time of Lent, or upon any Friday, Saturday, or other day appointed by former law to be fish day (not being Christmas day), except it be to such person as (resort- ing to such house) had lawful licence to eat the same accord- ing to the statute thereof made.' 2 With these statutes did Sir John Falstaff seek to frighten Mistress Quickly, when he told her, Marry, there is another indictment upon thee, for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy house, contrary to the law ; for the which, I think, thou wilt howl. Host. All victuallers do so : What's a joint of mutton or two in a whole Lent ? 2 Hen. IV. ii. 4. 371. We must not therefore hastily credit our ancestors with 1 See Lambarde's Eirenarcha, or of tlw Office of Justices of Peace (1581). 2 5 Eliz. c. 5 ; 27 Eliz. c. 11. In the 39th section of the former statute it is carefully explained that this legislation is politically meant for the increase of fishermen and mariners, and not for any superstition in the choice of meats ; and under the 40th section, any one publicly preaching or teaching that this statutory eating of fish or forbearing of flesh is ' of any necessity for the saving of the soul of man ' is punishable ' as spreaders of false news are and ought to be.' MASTER SQTJELE'S GAEDEN 71 depraved taste when we find them preserving and fattening for the table such abominations as tench and bream, but we should rather regard their fishponds, stews, and moats as part of the general policy of the realm, and very conducive to the due observance of the law, especially as administered by justices of the peace. Beside the moat was a mound, crowned with a summer- house, in which you could sit, and angle from the water a carp, or perch, or other dainty fish. For many held with Ursula, that The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden oars the silver stream, And greedily devour the treacherous bait. Much Ado, iii. 1. 26. Beyond were a fair orchard and garden. Squele, like most country gentlemen of the day, was a practical gardener, with special skill in the art of graffing. 1 By this art, he would explain, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race : this is an art Which does mend nature, change it rather, but The art itself is nature. Wint. Tale, iv. 4. 92. He would point with pride to certain box trees, cut into the shapes of beagles, pursuing a flying hare. The training of these hounds he would call an old man's hunting, delighting the eyes while it tired not the legs, and wasting neither corn nor coin. It was a ' curious-knotted garden,' 2 where walks and beds were arranged in quaint devices. The air was heavy with the perfume of autumn flowers ; 1 The Plant-lore and Garden-craft of Shakespeare, by the Eev. Henry N. Ellacombe, M.A., will be read with pleasure by every student of Shakespeare who shares his master's love of the garden 2 Love's L. L. i. 1. 249. 72 AFTER THE CHASE Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram ; The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun And with him rises weeping : these are flowers Of middle summer, and I think they are given To men of middle age. Wint. Tale, iv. 4. 104. On the sunny walls of the house hang dangling apricocks, Which, like unruly children, make their sire Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight. Rich. II. iii. 4. 29. Around the porch Doth the woodbine, the sweet honeysuckle Gently entwist, Mids. N. D. iv. 1. 47. and sweet eglantine and rosemary are planted under the windows. It was a bright spot amidst the waste, pleasant to the eye and sweet scented, where generation after generation of English gentlemen had passed their unevent- ful lives. They wished for no happier lot. Many a time had Squele spoken words which one who knew him well put into the mouth of Alexander Iden, a gentleman of Kent: Lord, who would live turmoiled in the court, And may enjoy such quiet walks as these ? This small inheritance my father left me Contenteth me, and worth a monarchy. I seek not to wax great by others' waning, Or gather wealth, I care not, with what envy : Sufficeth that I have maintains my state And sends the poor well pleased from my gate. 2 Hen. VI. iv. 10. 18. You may believe the Idens and Squeles when they so protest, for they knew no other life. But as for your banished dukes and courtiers, in Arden or in the frontiers of Mantua, put no faith in them. They will sing you sweetly ' of the green holly,' and try to persuade themselves that ' this life is most jolly.' 1 They will protest that they ' better brook than flourishing peopled towns This shadowy 1 As You, L. ii. 7. 183. THE SQUELES OF COTS WOLD 73 desert, unfrequented woods.' l But believe them not. For towards the end of the fifth act (as soon, in fact, as oppor- tunity offers) they hasten to return to the life they despise ; a fact much marked by the melancholy Jacques, who alone is faithful to Arden : What you would have I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave. As You L. v. 4, 201. Over the doorway were emblazoned on sculptured stone the arms of the Squeles of Hogshearing ; in a field, vert, a hog, squelant, proper, charged with a pair of shears, gules ; motto, Great Squele, little wool ; a supposed allusion to the barrenness of the family acres, compared with the preten- sions of their owners. Like many other examples of the canting heraldry so lightly esteemed by the Baron of Brad- wardine, it was founded on false etymology. For we, who live in an age that is nothing if not critical, know that Hogshearing or Ugs-wearing as it appears in old docu- ments has nothing to do with either swine or wool. The former part of the compound ugs or usk is plainly British, and suggests the water in which the hart was killed. As to the latter, it would be rash to express an opinion, inasmuch as it has been the subject of learned disquisitions before various archaeological societies, and opinions differ as to whether it is traceable to a British, Saxon, or Norman-French root ; or (as the more learned opine) is an interesting frag- ment of a Turanian tongue, spoken in Cotswold before the advent of the British Celt. However this may be, the Squeles were gentlemen, not only of coat-armour, but of blood and ancestry, and had held the lands and advowson of Hogshearing for centuries. These were, in fact, an outlying portion of the Shallow estates, granted by a Chatelhault to a follower of gentle blood, to hold of the manor of Chatelhault, at a time when such subinfeudation was legal. Somewhat of the old rela- tionship survived, and although they had been companions 1 Two Gent. v. 4. 2. 74 AFTER THE CHASE as boys and men, neither old Silence nor Will Squele ever quite forgot that, while they held of the manor of Shallow, Robert Shallow held in capite of the Queen. He was their lord, and they were his men. It was hard to withstand him, even when he would dispose of their children in marriage. If their lands were to descend to an infant heir, the lord, as guardian in chivalry, could dispose of his ward in marriage by way of sale, for his own profit, subject only to exception for disparagement. This was of the nature of things, an incident of land. What, then, did William Silence mean when he called Justice Shallow an old med- dling fool ? "And now, my masters," said Squele, as the company arrived at his garden gate, " come in and refresh yourselves before you turn homewards. 'Tis a long and weary ride across the wold." " By your leave," said Slender, " if John Hunt and I may have some barley-water for our horses, I have no stomach for victual, and I am loth to leave the hounds." "If that be your will," said Squele, "come into the stables, and while you look to your nags, my Gregory will bring you out some cakes and ale, if ye will have no better victual. Why, Master William, your horse is sorely tired." " In truth he is, and I fear much he will never carry me home," said Silence, who foresaw the possibility of an in- vitation to man and horse to pass the night at Hogshear- ing. "Leave him here for this night," said Squele hastily, " you may ride home on ' my horse Grey Capilet ... he will bear you easily and reins well.' * My man, when he brings the venison to the Justice in the morning, shall lead over your horse and bring my nag back with him." It was impossible to refuse so friendly an offer. But William could not help reflecting that the occasion must have been urgent which lent him Grey Capilet, for Will 1 Twelfth N. iii. 4. 314. A FRIENDLY OFFER 75 Squele was never known before to share with another the ' bonny beast he loved so well.' l " Saddle Grey Capilet," shouted Squele to his stable varlet. " Here, take the furniture from off Master Silence's horse. The saddle fits him well enough. But stay, Master William, his mouth has never been used to such a new- fangled bit We country folk ride our horses to make them go, not to throw them on their haunches, to play the dancing horse, like Bankes's curtal." 2 " I will fetch Grey Capilet's bridle," said Silence eagerly ; " I know of old where it hangs." He had long been seeking for an excuse to follow Anne into the house, but found none hitherto ; for, as we have seen, Slender and Squele had managed to keep the company in the stables. Silence left the yard, and going round to the front door, passed into the hall. It was a low dark room, flagged, and scantily strewn with rushes. In one corner an oaken book- case contained a few classical authors, Ovid, Virgil, Horace, and Tully's philosophical writings ; the Grammar of Henry VIII. well marked, The Dictionary of Syr Thomas Elliot, declaring Latin by English, as greatly improved and enriched by Thomas Coope in 1552 ; and The Schoolmaster, a Plaine and Perfite way of teaching children to understand, write, 1 2 Hen. VI. v. 2. 12. 2 When Moth said to Armado, ' the dancing horse will tell you ' (Love's L. L. i. 2. 56), he had in his mind Bankes's celebrated performing horse Morocco, alluded to in many contemporary plays, and even in such grave treatises as Sir Walter Raleigh's History of tJie World and. Sir Kenelm Digby's Treatise on Bodies. (See the Notes to Love's L. L. in the Variorum edition of 1821, and a note to The Parson's Wedding in Dodsley's Old Plays.) It is said that poor Bankes and his unhappy curtal were burned as magicians in Italy. G. Markham, moved perhaps by his love of the horse, defends Bankes against the opinion main- tained by ' euen some of good wisdome . . . that it was not possible to bee done by a Horse that which that curtal did, but by the assistance of the Deuill ; ' holding not only that ' the man was exceeding honest,' but that any horse could be brought in less than a month to do the same ; such is ' the excellency of a Horse's aptnesse and understanding' (Cavalarice). Morocco must have lived to an extraordinary age, unless (as would appear more probable) the allusion in the diary is to an earlier curtal trained by Bankes, who is not likely to have attained at once the absolute perfection displayed in his training of Morocco. 76 AFTER THE CHASE and speak the Latin Tong, by Boger Ascham, 1571. For Will Squele had gone to Oxford from an ancient school at Shrewsbury, and had brought thence a strong love for a few Latin masters, and for a poor Welsh lad, Hugh Evans, who had received a free education at Shrewsbury, and afterwards as servitor at Oxford, and whom he had made happy for life by presenting him to the vicarage of Hogshearing, the tithes of which were worth full sixteen marks a year. It was from Evans that William Silence learned the elements of Latin, and it was the conversation of the parson and his patron that early instilled into his mind a love of learning. For Will Squele (whose exploits at Clement's Inn were grossly exaggerated by Master Shallow) was certainly a gentleman, thereto Clerk-like experienced, which no less adorns Our gentry than our parents' noble names, In whose success we are gentle. Wint. Tale, i. 2. 391. At the other side of the hall a door led into a small closet, which served as a harness-room, amongst other offices of a varied character. Here hung Grey Capilet's bridle. Silence paused for a moment, then opening the door of the adjoining parlour, he passed through it, and knocked gently at a door. " Come in," said a voice he knew well. He opened the door, and found himself in the small withdrawing room, which Anne Squele had appropriated as her own. Through the open window came in the sweet scent of gilliflowers and honeysuckle. A few books lay on the table, Lyly's Euphues, the Eclogues of Virgil (for Anne read Latin with her father and Sir Hugh), and a huge manuscript book of recipes, which had grown under the hands of the successive generations of feminine Squeles. You will find many of those secrets dis- closed by the industrious Gervase Markham in his ' English Housewife, containing the inward and outward Vertues which ought to be in a compleat woman ; as her skill in Physick, Surgery, Cookery, extraction of oyls, Banqueting GREY CAPILET'S BRIDLE 77 stuff, ordering of great Feasts, Preserving of all sorts of wines, conceited Secrets, Distillations, Perfumes, ordering of Wool, Hemp, Flax, making Cloth and Dying : the know- ledge of Dayries ; Office of Malting ; of Oats their excellent use in a family ; of Brewing, Baking, and all other things be- longing to a household.' There you may learn how to make a kickshaw, or quelquechose, and the same authority tells you elsewhere that ' spermaceti is ... excellent for inward bruises, and to be bought at the apothecaries.' l The virginal was a gift from her godfather, Master Shallow. The room was adorned with needlework of various kinds, cut works, spinning, bone-lace, and many pretty devices, with which the cushions, carpets, chairs, and stools were covered. " I came to seek Grey Capilet's bridle," said William ; and his manner had lost the assurance which had marked it at the assembly. "And have you so forgotten the ways of the place, Master William, that you need to be shown where the bridle hangs ? " " I have forgotten nothing, nor am I like to. It is not because I have forgotten, but because I cannot forget that "That you want Grey Capilet's bridle," said Anne hastily, running into the hall. " Nay, here it is, but you must take it and begone, or we shall have Master Slender looking for the bridle too. Stay a moment. Did my father tell you that the Lady Katherine had bidden us to ride a hawk- ing with her on Monday ? Now farewell, for I hear father's voice, and he will want the bridle." Grey Capilet was saddled, bridled, and mounted at last. The company took leave of Master Squele, and proceeded homewards across the waste. Master Silence's feelings were somewhat mingled. He had intended to say something to Anne much conveyed in few words and he had only asked for a bridle. But then 1 Cheap and Good Husbandry. 78 AFTER THE CHASE she had told him that they were bidden to Master Petre's. Did not this imply, be thou bidden also ? Master Slender and the huntsman were occupied with the hounds. Young Fury's wound was not serious, and he had treated his case after the manner of Adonis' hound by licking of his wound, 'Gainst venom'd sores the only sovereign plaster. l Ven. and Ad. 915. Merriman is sorely fatigued, or (in the language of venery) embossed. He must be tended. It may be (as Mr. Dyce suggests) that he is to be trashed ; that is to say, restrained from running about and thus adding to his fatigue, by using for this purpose the long strap known as a trash, buckled to his couple and held by the huntsman. 2 The other hounds are coupled, in the fashion in which they were brought to the assembly, and so they journey homeward. On the way Abraham Slender and the huntsman discuss the perform- ances of the hounds. Not one event during the long day escapes their recollection. There can be no doubt as to the converse held by them, for their very words have been re- corded by one who heard them. Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds : f Brach Merriman, the poor cur is emboss'd ; And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd brach. Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good At the hedge corner, in the coldest fault ? I would not lose the dog for twenty pound. First Hun. Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord ; He cried upon it at the merest loss 1 ' The tongue of the dog in most cases is his best surgeon ; when he can apply that, he seldom needs any other remedy.' (Beckford, Thoughts on Hunting.) 2 The text is certainly corrupt, for Merriman was not a brach, or female hound. Mr. Dyce reads : ' Trash Merriman,' an emendation which has not found favour with critics who, regarding the trash as a weight or clog, naturally remark that Merriman's fatigue would be rather aggravated than lightened by such an appendage. It appears, however, that the trash some- times, at all events, took the form of a long strap attached to the couple of an over-topping hound (see note, ante, p. 39). DISCOURSE BY THE WAY 79 And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent : Trust me, I take him for the better dog. Lord. Thou art a fool ; if Echo were as fleet, I would esteem him worth a dozen such. Tarn, of Shrew, Ind. i. 16. Thus their critical discourse ' distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle ; ' for hound differs from hound, as man from man, every one According to the gift which bounteous nature Hath in him closed. Macbeth, iii. 1. 96. I cannot answer with the same certainty for William Silence and his companion. But I have never thought that doubt was cast on the authenticity of the diary, or on the identity of the nameless stranger, by the fact that its author is silent, just when we should wish him to speak. A day spent with Shakespeare is in our eyes something so wonder- ful that we can scarcely understand its passing without note or comment. And yet many days were so spent by many scores of people, not one of whom has thought fit to record its events. Why should the diarist differ from his fellows ? Besides, I see no proof that Shakespeare possessed at ^,ny time of his life those personal qualities w T hich afford, or seem to afford to the casual looker on, assurance of greatness. To those who knew him in the flesh he was ' gentle ' Shake- speare. This word is without counterpart in our speech of to-day, but it certainly excludes the idea of an overpowering or self-asserting personality. Indeed, had not William Silence been possessed of education and discernment above his Gloucestershire neighbours, he would scarcely have admitted to companionship one so far below him in con- dition. But although there may have been some discourse of weightier matters, which we would have gladly shared, the hounds and their doings were not forgotten. Had it been otherwise, one of the company would not have known their very names, nor could he have drawn with pen and ink a 80 AFTER THE CHASE portrait so lifelike, that the author of the Chase of the Wild Eed Deer, when he would describe the hounds ! with which the stag was hunted on Exmoor in his youth lineal descendants of Master Shallow's kennel finds that he can do so most aptly in the words of Theseus : My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, So flew'd, so sanded, and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew : Crook-knee'd and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian bulls ; Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells, Each under each. A cry more tuneable Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn.' Mids. N. Dr. iv. 1. 124. In Shakespeare's time hounds hunting by scent were roughly divided into three classes. There was the blood- hound, or limer, whose acquaintance we have already made, used for the most part in finding and harbouring the game ; there was the ' beagle pure-bred,' about which we shall hear something by-and-by ; and, lastly, there were the ordinary running hounds. Your pack of beagles hunted the hare, as their proper quarry ; but your kennel of hounds ' will indeed hunt any chase exceeding well, especially the hare, stag, buck, roe, or other.' Adonis was wont to add the fox to the category set forth in the Noble Arte, for he was thus bidden by Venus : 1 The old Exmoor stag-hounds, the last survivors of the southern hound, were sold in 1825 to a German baron, and their place was taken by a pack composed of large drafts of fox-hounds. These hounds are superior in dash and speed to their predecessors, but among the defects of their qualities must be noted an ab- sence of that tuneable cry, musical discord, and sweet thunder, which were cha- racteristic of the older breed. ' A nobler pack of hounds no man ever saw In height the hounds were about twenty-six to twenty-eight inches, colour generally hare-pied, yellow, yellow and white, or badger pied, with long ears, deep muzzles, large throats, and deep chests. In tongue they were perfect, and when hunting in the water, or on half scent, or baying a deer, they might be heard at an immense distance.' (Chase of the Wild Red Deer.) In the com- position of this interesting work, the late Dr. Collyns of Dulverton was assisted (to what extent is a matter of dispute) by a friend, referred to in the preface as ' a dear lover of the sport,' who is known to have been Sir John Karslake, some time Attorney-General for England. THE RUNNING HOUND 81 Uncouple at the timorous flying hare, Or at the fox which lives by subtlety, Or at the roe which no encounter dare : Pursue these fearful creatures o'er the downs, And on thy well-breath'd horse keep with thy hounds. Yen. and Ad, 673. The running hounds differed widely as regards size and speed, according to the nature of the country in which they were bred and hunted. You may read much in the old books of sport about northern, west country, and southern hounds, and about their several qualities ; and also of the complexion and nature of the fallow, the dun, and the white hound, and of the ' blacke hounds anciently come from Sainct Hubert Abbey in Ardene.' You may also learn from the Noble Arte how their breeding is affected by the ' starre Arcture, and sygnes of Gemini and Aquarius, for the dogges which shall be engen- dered under those signes shall not be subject to madnesse, and shall commonly be more dogges than bytches.' The common stock from which these several varieties sprang was the blood-hound. The characteristics of this species are more apparent the further back we go in the history of the hound. They may be plainly traced in the old Exmoor stag-hounds, and in the kennel of Theseus. They become less evident, as, generation after generation, the modern fox-hound was developed from the old southern hound by careful breeding and judicious crossing. In the course of this development some rare qualities of nose and cry have certainly been lost. But the philosophic stag-hunter, dis- mounting after a twenty-mile gallop across Exmoor from Yard's Down, may reflect that Theseus' hounds, tuneable as was their cry, could no more have accounted for the four-year- old galloper set up at Watersmeet, than a pack of beagles could kill a fox in Leicestershire ; and that neither to hounds nor to men has the grace of absolute perfection been vouch- safed. But however ' sweet and delectable ' the way over the ' high wild hills and rough uneven ways ' of Cotswold was G 82 AFTER THE CHASE made by such ' fair discourse,' ' neither riders nor horses retraced their steps with the keen enjoyment which they felt in the early day. Who riseth from a feast With that keen appetite that he sits down ? Where is the horse that doth untread again His tedious measures with the unbated fire That he did pace them first ? Merck, of Ven. ii. 6. 8. Each participated in the weariness of the other with that subtle sympathy and inter-communication of feeling which exists between man and a brute companion. ' Imitari is nothing : so doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired horse his rider.' 2 1 Rich. II. ii. 3. 4. * Love's L. L. iv. 2. 129. This passage is explained by commentators as referring to ' the dancing horse,' Bankes's famous curtal, said to have been attired with ribbons ; and Mr. Grant White goes so far as to print the words ' 'tired horse.' I believe it to express in condensed and elliptical language, characteristic of Shakespeare, the same idea which is fully deve- loped in the Sonnet quoted above ; the sympathy of the horse with his rider, the mysterious ' instinct ' by which ' the beast that bears me, tired with my woe,' becomes a partaker of my feelings, as the hound shares thoughts of his master, and the ape of his keeper. As it has been elsewhere expressed ' that horse his mettle from his rider takes ' (A Lover's Complaint, 107). The passage, thus interpreted, expresses a favourite thought of the author's ; but I cannot understand how a riderless horse going through a barebacked per- formance can be said to imitate a rider, because its master chooses to adorn it with ribbons. The sense of the passage would have been more apparent if the meaning had been noted which was formerly borne in the language of farriers by the word ' tired ' as applied to the horse. It was a term of art, and as such is fully explained in the chapter of Markham's Maister-peece entitled ' Of Tyred Horses ' (Book I, ch. 62). ' In our common and vulgar speech we say every horse that giveth over his labour is tyred.' This may proceed ' from the most extreme Labour and Travail which is true tyredness indeed,' or from some fault of the horse's, among others, ' from dulness of spirit,' for which an excellent remedy is to take ' three or four round pebble stones, and put them into one of his ears, and then tye the ear that the stones fall not out, and the noise of those stones will make the Horse go after he is utterly tyred.' Shakespeare (as we shall see more fully by-and-by) put into the mouths of his characters, irre- spective of nationality or condition in life, the common and vulgar speech of English farriers according to Markham, for the most part very simple smiths, to suit whose capacity he writes in his Maister-peece so as to be understood by the weakest brain. Blundevill, whose readers were more enlightened, and who translated largely from foreign authors, in his chapter ' Of Tired Horses ' uses THE TIRED HORSE 83 Some such experience, one of the company afterwards developed in the form of a sonnet : How heavy do I journey on the way, When what I seek, my weary travel's end, Doth teach that ease and that repose to say ' Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend ! ' The beast that bears me, tired with my woe, Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me, As if by some instinct the wretch did know His rider loved not speed, being made from thee : The bloody spur cannot provoke him on That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide ; Which heavily he answers with a groan, More sharp to me than spurring to his side ; For that same groan doth put this in my mind ; My grief lies onward, and my joy behind. Sonnet L. Master Silence's feelings agree so perfectly with the tem- per of his horse that he forbears to rail at his sluggish pace, as he would have done at other times ; for he was sufficiently energetic to sympathise with Harry Hotspur, who says of mincing poetry, ' 'Tis like the forced gait of a shuffling nag ; ' l and of the mystic Owen Glendower, 0, he is as tedious As a tired horse, a railing wife ; Worse than a smoky house. 1 Hen. IV. iii. 1. 159. the word in its correctsense, as 'tired with over much labour.' (Four Chiefest Offices of Horsemanship, 1580.) It is, I think, certain that the beast of Sonnet L., plodding dully on tired with his rider's woe, was affected with the kind of tiring that ' proceedeth from dulness of spirit,' otherwise Shakespeare would never have said, in the person of the rider, The bloody spur cannot provoke him on, That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide. Had he suffered from ' true tyredness,' his treatment at his hands would have been very different ; sodden water A drench for sur-reined jades, their barley-broth. Hen. V. iii. 5. 1. If Shakespeare had translated into ordinary English the ' common and vulgar speech ' of the farrier, and told us that the dull-spirited horse imitates his rider, no one, however tired, could have misunderstood his meaning. 1 1 Hen. IV. iii. 1. 135. o 2 84 AFTER THE CHASE 'All things that are,' Gratiano tells us, 'are with more spirit chased than enjoyed.' This is the secret of the fascination which the sports of the field exercise over man- kind. Their very essence is pursuit and endeavour, not possession ; and in these lies the chief enjoyment of life. The objects of the sportsman's pursuit are often 'past reason hunted,' and though (unlike other objects) they contain no poison so as to be ' past reason hated,' yet they are indeed ' before, a joy proposed ; behind, a dream.' l Happy is he whose slumbers are visited by no worse dreams than the harbouring and hunting of the Cotswold hart. 1 Sonnet cxxix. CHAPTEE VII SUPPEE AT SHALLOW HALL Some pigeons, Davy, a couple of short-legged hens, a joint of mutton, and any pretty tiny kickshaws, tell William cook. Second Part of King Henry IV. IF you visit the western slope of Cotswold in search of the ancient dwelling of the Shallows, which we are now approaching in the company of the diarist, you need not be disappointed. I do not promise that you will succeed in tracing the foundations of the Hall, or in fixing to your satisfaction the site of the dovecot, or of the arbour in which the Justice was wont to regale his guests with a dish of caraways and a last year's pippin of his own grafting. 1 But although these matters may be left in doubt, evidence will not be wanting that you have come to the right place. You have only to bear in mind the local indications given by Davy, the Justice's factotum : Davy. I beseech you, sir, to countenance William Visor of Woncot against Clement Perkes of the hill. Shal. There is many complaints, Davy, against that Visor; that Visor is an arrant knave, on my knowledge. Davy. I grant your worship that he is a knave, sir ; but yet, God forbid, sir, but a knave should have some countenance at his 1 ' Pepyns with carawey in confite ' are prescribed for dessert by John Eussell, of the household of Humphrey, the good Duke of Gloucester, in the Boke of Nurture (circ. 1430), and in Wynkyn de Worde's Boke o/Keruinge (1513). These urious treatises on the household management of the day were annotated and reprinted (with Hugh Bhodes's Boke of Nurture, 1577) by Mr. Frederick Furnival in 1866. 86 SUPPER AT SHALLOW HALL friend's request. An honest man, sir, is able to speak for himself, when a knave is not. I have served your worship truly, sir, this eight years ; and if I cannot once or twice in a quarter bear out a knave against an honest man, I have but a very little credit with your worship. The knave is mine honest friend, sir ; therefore I beseech your worship, let him be countenanced. Shal. Go to ; I say he shall have no wrong. 2 Hen. IV. v. 1. 41. If you seek for proof that you are in the neighbourhood of these worthies, you need but look around you. Looking northward, you may see how the Cotswold up- lands send forth in the direction of the estuary of the Severn a detached portion, or spur, which, standing forth from the mass in well-defined outline, has received from the country folk the distinctive name of the Hill. Here local tradition, oblivious of the worshipful Shallows, long pointed out the site of a modest homestead, once the dwelling-place of a family of yeoman race, named Perkis or Perkes, of whom one has been discovered by searchers in parish registers, born in 1568, and bearing the name of Clement. The home of his antagonist, William Visor, is not far distant, but is hidden from sight by intervening uplands. It is Wood- mancote, or Woncot, a suburb of Dursley, which has retained to the present century its connection with the family of Visor, or Vizard. For in the list of wardens of St. Mark's Chapel of Ease at Woodmancote, the name of Vizard occurs in 1847, 1848, and 1861, and in a pedigree of the family, printed in Dursley and its Neighbourhood (by the Rev. John Henry Blunt, Eector of Beverston), we read that William Vizard died February 14, 1807, and the descent of this nineteenth-century William Visor of Woncot is traced from Arthur Vizard, bailiff of Dursley in 1612, whose tomb is in Dursley churchyard. If you ascend the Hill, and look towards the setting sun and the far distant mountains of Wales, the thought is still borne in on you, quocunque ingredimur in aliquam historiam vestigia ponimus. For as the eye travels over the rich and smiling landscape stretching westward to the estuary of the 87 Severn, and rests for a moment on a spot near the town of Berkeley, you are startled to find yourself exclaiming in the words of Hotspur, ' There stands the castle, by yon tuft of trees.' l ' 'Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling and a rich,' exclaimed Sir John Falstaff, as he surveyed this very prospect from the Justice's orchard ; ' Barren, barren, barren ; beggars all, beggars all, Sir John,' his host thought it polite to protest, but truth compelled him to add, ' Marry, good air.' Good air and comparative barrenness were indeed the main characteristics of the swelling uplands, extending eastward from the Justice's Hall to the ancient city of Cirencester, and northward as far as the borders of Warwickshire. A region of bare hills and billowy downs, famed for a breed of white-fleeced sheep, and for its Whitsun games, whose fame might have perished but for their restoration by Robert Dover, and their celebration by the poets of the day. Shallow and his surroundings are distinctly of Glouces- tershire. There never was any reason for transferring them to Warwickshire and the neighbourhood of Stratford, even if there did not exist at the farthest side of Gloucestershire Woncot with its Visor ; the Hill with its Perkes ; Berkeley Castle standing by its tuft of trees ; an ancient tradition of Shakespeare's sojourn ; and a family of the name claiming kinship with the poet. 2 1 Rich. II. ii. 3. 53. 2 In the autumn of the year 1887 (and here I speak in my proper person), finding myself in the neighbourhood, I visited Dursley. Leaving the railway station, I met an aged countryman, of whom I asked the way to Woncot. He at once pointed out the road to Woodmancote. I then asked him the shortest way to the Hill. Without further question he directed me to Stinchcombe Hill, one of several surrounding eminences, of which the Eev. R. Webster Huntley, in his Glossary of the Cotswold Dialect, writes, ' On Stinchcombe Hill there is the site of a house wherein a family named Purchase or Perkis once lived.' On the level table land, which forms the summit of the hill, I met a groom exercising a horse in training for some local race, of whom I inquired, as a stranger in Gloucestershire, " How far is it to Berkeley ? " and he made answer thus (I wrote down his words), " Ye can see a tower of the castle. It lays along of the clump of trees." Unfortunately the day was too 88 SUPPER AT SHALLOW HALL It is strange that this combination of circumstances has not attracted more of the attention which has been lavished on the surroundings of Shakespeare's Warwickshire life ; for the belief current in Dursley from time immemorial that Shakespeare passed some part of his early life in or near that town, holds a distinct position among the many traditions that have clustered around the name of Shake- speare. The mere fact of the existence of such a tradition bespeaks careful consideration, for the notoriety of Shake- speare's connection with Stratford-on-Avon has warned off all other rivals, and the claim of Dursley to be associated with his name is unique. If the story is unfounded it is difficult to suggest how it came to be thought of. For the tradition is certainly older than any knowledge of the facts discovered by modern register-hunters ; and Dursley a small country town, lying at the south-western extremity of Cots- wold, distant a few miles from the estuary of the Severn, and separated from Warwickshire by almost the entire length of Gloucestershire is not in any way connected with Strat- ford-on-Avon, or with any patent fact in the life of Shake- speare. The truth is that Shakespeare completely foiled his pursuers and led them on a false trail, when it one day occurred to him, in a wicked mood, to take a fling at the Lucys of Charlecote by identifying with some member of the Lucy family a character which had already taken hold misty to allow me to verify his statement, but I am quite prepared to accept its truth, for it does not rest on his testimony alone : North. I am a stranger here in Gloucestershire : These high wild hills and rough uneven ways Draw out our miles. . . . How far is it to Berkeley ? . . . Percy. There stands the castle by yon tuft of trees. Richard II. ii. 3. 3. 51. ' This is an exact description of the Castle as seen from the Hill, the Castle having been from time immemorial shut in on one side, as viewed therefrom, by an ancient cluster of thick lofty trees.' Thus Mr. Huntley, in a note to his Glossary, in which he collects some further evidence of the connection of the family of Shakespeare with the neighbourhood of Dursley. See Note, Shakespeare and Gloucestershire. AN ANCIENT MANOR-HOUSE 89 of the public, and was accepted as a type. Thenceforth Shallow was Lucy, and his local habitation was Charlecote, not the ' wilds of Gloucestershire.' I have elsewhere stated in detail my reasons for believing that the Gloucestershire Justice of Henry IV. is not a study of Sir Thomas Lucy, and that the touches which have connected him with the family of Lucy appear for the first time in the second edition of the Merry Wives. At present I simply ask the reader to take Shakespeare at his word, and to believe that when he wrote of Gloucestershire, of Woncot, and of the Hill he meant what he said. Of the original dwelling of the Shallows little remained in the time of the diarist save a strong vaulted chamber used as a kitchen, and some adjoining rooms which served as buttery, pantry, and for other domestic purposes. The part of the house surrounding the Court where we first made the acquaintance of the Gloucestershire Justices, was built in the early years of the Queen's reign. The security of the times, with advancing civilisation and increased means of enjoyment, had led to a wonderful development of domestic architecture ; and Shallow Hall, though it could not, in point of dimensions, beauty, and associations, com- pete with Haddon, Penshurst, or Knole, or even with Charlecote, presented nevertheless an interesting example of an ancient manor-house, rebuilt and enlarged in the Tudor period. How is it that in certain ages of the world the meanest man cannot do ill that which at other times the noblest fails to do well, save by way of imitation? Was ever parish church designed amiss in the thirteenth century, or dwelling-house in the sixteenth? Was ever tolerable church or house built in the nineteenth, unless by repro- ducing the work of an earlier age ? . We are so boastful of our enlightenment and progress that it is well to be re- minded of the depths of our incapacity. The last decade of this century may perhaps for it has yet some years to run give to the world a great dramatist, poet, or writer of romance. It will not, I think, produce a building of original 90 SUPPER AT SHALLOW HALL nineteenth century design upon which the eye can be con- tent to rest with the pleasure imparted by the harmonious combination of mullioned windows, pointed gables, and clustering chimneys, which constitute the charm of Tudor architecture. Long and wearisome as were the miles across the high wild hills and rough uneven ways of Cotswold, they came to an end at last, and our party, having seen to the comfort of their horses, crossed the court-yard and entered the hall. A long oaken table ran from top to bottom of the hall, which was spacious, and nagged with stone. It had an open oaken roof, with massive beams and rafters. Great bay windows, diamond-paned and mullioned, extended in height the entire way from the floor to the roof. The floor had been newly strewn with rushes, the ' cobwebs swept ; the serving men in their new fustian, their white stockings, and every officer his wedding garment on ' 1 in honour of Petre and his bride. The walls were hung, not indeed with the arras of which we read in lordly mansions, but with the more homely painted cloth, ' wherein,' says Harrison, 2 ' either diverse histories, or hearbes, beasts, knots, and suchlike are stained.' There were moral and religious stories, like ' Lazarus in the painted cloth, where the glutton's dogs licked his sores.' 3 There were pretty poesies too, such as were engraven by goldsmiths on rings. ' Set this inyour painted cloths,' 4 said Pandarus, when he had instanced his experience in verse. These legends and pictures suggested many smart questions and pretty answers, and if the merry Beatrice had her ' good wit out of the Hundred Merry Tales,' 5 the melancholy Jaques was accused of indebtedness for his matter to the painted cloth. ' You are full of pretty answers,' said he to Orlando. ' Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conned them out of rings ? ' 1 Tarn, of Shrew, iv. 1. 48. 2 Description of England (1577), prefixed to Holinshed's Chronicle. 3 1 Hen. IV. iv. 2. 27. 4 Trail, and Cres. v. 10. 46. 5 Much Ado, ii. 1. 135. THE JUSTICE'S LIBRARY 91 Orl. Not so, but I answer you right painted cloth, 1 from whence you have studied your questions. As You L. iii. 2. 287. The great oaken screen, separating the hall from the passage by which you entered, was hung with corslets, helmets, bucklers, pikes, halberts, and spears. On it there hung, a prey to rust and decay, the coat of mail in which Robert de Chatelhault was clad when he rode with his patron, Henry II., into the city of Dublin to receive the homage of Irish chieftains. To one who looked upon this venerable relic, it suggested a fine simile, of which Ulysses made good use when he would impress upon Achilles the folly of virtue seeking ' remuneration for the thing it was.' For ' good deeds past,' he tells him, are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done : perseverance, dear my lord, Keeps honour bright : to have done is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery.' Trail, and Cres. iii. 3. 148. But most of the surroundings of the hall were suggestive of less gloomy reflections. In the deep embrasures of one window cross-bows, arrows, hunting and hawking poles were piled in confusion. Upon an oaken board in another lay the Justice's library. It was scanty, even for those times, for the Shallows never affected literary tastes. But the book- hunter would hail it with delight could he chance on it in some forgotten cupboard, for it contained a well-worn copy of the Boke of St. Albans, Nicholas Malbie's Remedies for the Dyseases in Horses, Fitzherbert's Boke of Husbandrie, Lambarde's Eirenarcha; or, Office of Justices of Peace (pre- sented by William Silence), and Turbervile's Boke of Fal- conrie, bound with the Noble Arte of Venerie. These were for serious use. For books of sport were used by the Shallows and Silences for practical purposes, and not as manuals of etiquette and guides to polite conversation ; as was the custom of the 1 Lutrece, 245. 92 SUPPER AT SHALLOW HALL upstart gentlemen of the day, who bought them by the score, ' but who rarely understood their inner meaning. Of such a reading public, the genuine sportsman would say, with Hector : O, like a book of sport ! thou'lt read me o'er ; But there's more in me than thou understand'st. Troil. and Ores. iv. 5. 239. Light literature was represented by Sir Guy of War- wicke, the Foure Sonnes of Amon, the Ship of Fooles, the Budget of Demaundes, and the Hundred Merrie Tales ; and I gather from the conversation at supper that, but for Abraham Slender, it should have been furnished with the Booke of Riddles, in which the Justice specially delighted. In the deep recess of another window stood a small table, with a double desk, on one side of which lay Foxe's Book of Martyrs, and on another a large Church Bible, from which (as we know) the Justice now and then borrowed a quotation, and, I am sorry to add, but little else. There were a few small tables, useful in foul weather when the Justice would play at dice or cards, calling in his honest neighbours, yeomen of the country, such as Clement Perkes of the Hill ; for in those days distinctions of class were so clearly marked and rigidly observed, that associations such as this led to no misunderstanding or confusion. Those who were thus bidden took their places below the great silver Salt, separating guests who supped on terms of equality with the Justice from the ' lower messes,' 2 a phrase which came to have a meaning (as in the mouth of Leontes) somewhat akin to that of the masses, whom some are used to contrast with the classes who sit above the Salt. The walls above the painted cloths were adorned with antlers of harts and other trophies of the chase, the Justice's devotion to which was attested by other visible signs. Benches were littered with hawks' hoods and jesses, hawking 1 See Note, The Book of Sport. - Wint. Tale, i. 2. 227. A HARD QUESTION 93 gloves, and collars, liams, and trashes for hounds. A few dogs lay on the rushes ; but of the running hounds, Lady the brach alone was admitted to the hall. She was not half so good and true a hound as Belman, but because she happened to please the Justice, everything was permitted to her ; for in hounds as with men, in Gloucestershire as in Rome, under Tudors as under Caesars, probitas laudatur et alget. ' Truth's a dog must to kennel ; ' said Lear's most material fool; ' he must be whipped out, when Lady the brach may stand by the fire and ' do as she pleases. 1 Although Silence and his companions had returned to Shallow Hall by the shortest route, it was dark when they arrived, and the Justice had already led his guests to supper in the hall. It was expected that those who took part in the chase should sup with the Justice, and accordingly the whole party, gentle and simple, came together into the hall. The head of the deer was borne aloft before the huntsman, who blew a strake on his horn as he entered. The Justice sat at the head of the long oaken table. At his right hand sat the Lady Katherine ; at his left her husband, with old Silence. His daughter Ellen with Ferdinand Petre (who seems to have found his way back to the park at an early hour) were nigh at hand. They were joined by William Silence and Abraham Slender, while Perkes and his com- panion, with John Hunt, took their places below the Salt. " Ho, ho ! " cried the Justice, when he saw the deer's head, " how's this ? This cannot be the hart whose tokens and measurements were reported to me at noon. How's this ? This must be answered, John Hunt. How came you not to hunt the hart which was harboured for the delectation of my guests ? You, goodman Perkes, 'twas you harboured the hart, and you saw him break thicket. How's this, how's this? Have you forgotten your woodcraft? This must be answered." This was too bad ; to have his woodcraft put to shame before the company, and the great hart ravaging his corn- 1 K. Lear, i. 4. 124. 94 SUPPER AT SHALLOW HALL field at this very moment. Clement Perkes could not lie to save his life, not to say his character for woodcraft. He gasped, grew red, and looked doubtingly at Slender, who was not prepared for this emergency. " The great hart, an't please your worship," said the huntsman promptly, " did break thicket ; but they changed to another deer in the round wood. I said I thought it, Master Slender." "Aye, aye, good lack," said Slender, in amazement at such dexterity. " But a' was not right certain till we viewed him in the Hogshearing valley, and then 'twas too late. I met a varlet as saw the great hart leave the round wood after sunset." " I knew well how it was," said Shallow triumphantly. " I knew it well, and I said it throughout. I said they had changed somewhere. But I am sorry, Master Petre, I am sorry. I had wished you better sport." " Nay, Master Shallow," said Petre, " vex not yourself for me, we have had a right merry day, have we not, Kate ? For my part I care not for hunting at force, though I love well enough the music of a well-chosen cry of hounds, or a pack of merry beagles, bred for music, not for murder. Live and let live, for me." When the hunting party had taken their places at the table, the Justice resumed his conversation with Master Petre, and we are in time to hear a few of his comments on topics of the day. " And now that you have brought home your bride, Master Petre, you will, I doubt not, follow the use and ancient custom of your worshipful ancestors, dwelling in the country alway, and resorting neither to courts nor to foreign countries. Your father, Sir Anthony, was of that mind. He spent his whole rent and revenue (scot and lot only excepted) in hospitality and good house-keeping. His house was no Mock-beggar Hall. It was ever open to all comers " " Yea, that it was, and sometimes closed to its master. AN ANCIENT CONTROVERSY 95 Many a time hath he been driven out of his own bed to lie at a tenant's house for a night or two, so haunted was his house by unbidden guests, resorting thither with man and horse, hawk and hound. Give me the house-keeping of cities and towns, where a man may make choice of his own guests, and where he need not fill his hall with great tall hulking, useless fellows, but may keep such serving-men only as are required for necessary uses. Our fathers needed them to sustain their quarrels. But we need them not." " Nay, there thou speakest foolishly, for what profiteth it a man to be better than his neighbours if he have no greater worship ? If a gentleman be not largely resorted to, what worship can he have in the shire, or what authority on the bench at quarter sessions, when he giveth the charge ? If I walk in the town at assize time but slenderly attended how shall it be known that I am a better man than my kinsman Silence here, or my cousin Slender, who keeps but three men and a boy yet, until his mother be dead ? " " How, indeed," said old Silence ; " for if one who is not only of the peace but of the quorum and cust " " Cousin Silence, it is as I have said : need more be said?" " In truth, Master Shallow, you have asked me a hard question," said Master Petre, " and I cannot answer it ; you are too clever for me." " Now that is spoken like a worthy son of your father, and I doubt not but that after further converse with me, you and all your brethren will dwell at home, and be no longer scattered abroad thoughout the world." "To my mind," said Petre, "it is a good wind that scatters young men over the world, to seek their fortunes further than at home, where small experience grows. For myself, my substance is such that I could live at home, as did my father. But what should my younger brethren do at home ? " " It is true," said Master Shallow, " the old saying now holds not good that service is the younger son's inheritance. 96 SUPPER AT SHALLOW HALL The more's the pity. I mind the time when the younger son of an esquire would be proud to serve a knight, and the younger son of a gentleman an esquire, as the younger son of a duke would serve his prince. But now, goodman Tomkins' Jack is thrust into a blue coat, and Peter Patch- panel taken from the carpenter's bench to the parlour, to the great detriment of those of gentle blood. And yet even at this very day I know gentlemen's younger brothers that wear their elder brother's blue coat and badge, attending him with reverent regard and dutiful obedience, as if he were their prince sovereign. This is as it should be." " A beggarly profession, say I. As the old saying hath it, ' A young serving-man, an old beggar.' Unless, indeed, he turn tapster, as another saying hath it : ' An old cloak makes a new jerkin ; a withered serving-man a fresh tapster.' l I allow, indeed, that if a younger son profiteth by his learning at the University or at the Inns of Court, he may proceed in the study of the common law, divinity, or physic. But besides your kinsman William, how many of your blood or acquaintance have so profited? And for the rest I say, better seek their fortunes abroad, than turn ploughman at home, or even wear the blue coat of their eldest brother. Indeed, if their eldest brother were of my mind, he would not be in the country for them to serve, but would lead a civil life in cities and great towns, as do the nobility of foreign countries." " But if you live not at home, tilling your demesne land, how shall your house be kept, and your neighbours love you?" "My father," said Petre, "had six or seven hundred acres of demesne land, whereon grew the provision for his household. This I let out to husbandmen, and there is scarcely an acre but yields me a crown. And so both fare best. I can live where I please, and need not to play the ploughman myself, and the ploughmen can live on the land, as their calling is. Believe me, the husbandman loves 1 Merry Wives, i. 3. 18. THE LEARNING OF SHALLOW 97 his landlord best, when he lives like a gentleman in the city, though for fear or flattery, when he dineth at your board, he may say he is sorry your worship should dwell away. As for your country sports and pastimes, I allow, indeed, that a gentleman may exercise himself in hunting, and especially in hawking, but these pastimes may be followed in the neighbourhood of courts and cities. But his great delight should be in arms, in the riding of great and service- able horses, and also in study of books." "As to books," said Master Shallow, "we have good store of them, and we lack not pleasant mad-headed knaves that be properly learned, and will read for us in diverse pleasant books, as Sir Guy of Warwick, the Four Sons of Amon, the Ship of Fools, the Budget of Demands, the Hundred Merrie Tales, the Book of Songs and Sonnets, the Book of Riddles, and many other pithy and excellent authors. The Book of Riddles, indeed, cousin Slender, has not been found since Allhallowmas last, when thou borrowedst it, for thy mother as thou sayedst. I pray thee, see to it." "Your learning is, indeed, most seemly and suitable," said Petre. " How sayest thou, Master Silence, would not learning like this amaze and delight thy fellow at Gray's Inn, Master Francis Bacon?" "Why, that is spoken like a most grave and reverend young man," said the Justice, " and, Master Petre, persuade me not, but rest well assured that Robert Shallow, Esquire, will dwell continually at home among his neighbours, as he hath done any time these three hundred years, for all your brave words." "'All his successors gone before him hath done't,' ' said Slender, " ' and all his ancestors that come after him may ; they ' " l 1 The conversation at the Justice's table closely resembles a dialogue between Vincent and Valentine, contained in a curious old tract entitled ' Cyuile and Vncyuile Life. A discourse very profitable, pleasant, and fit to be read of all Nobilitie and Gentlemen, where in the forme of a dialogue is disputed what order of lyfe best beseemeth a gentleman in all ages and times ' (1579. Reprinted by the Roxburghe Society in a volume entitled Inedited Tracts). So close H 98 SUPPER AT SHALLOW HALL The remainder of Blender's speech has been lost to the world, for supper being ended, the company rose from their seats while the ladies sought the withdrawing room, where Ellen Silence did the honours of her godfather's house. It was the custom at the Justice's to sit long after supper. Sometimes the company would adjourn to the orchard, sometimes (as now) they would make merry in the hall. " And now," said the Justice, " is there no merry wag who will give us a song ? " "I know one who can give you a hunter's song," said William Silence, " for I heard him singing snatches of it as we rode homewards together the song must speak for itself, but I can answer for the voice of the singer." And here, not for the first or the last time, the hope that I might find somewhere in the diary some words which fell from the lips of the nameless stranger was doomed to disappoint- ment. There was, indeed, a song enclosed in the pages of the diary. But it was written on a separate piece of paper, and appeared from internal evidence to have been written at a much later period by the diarist, who would seem to have occupied himself in embodying his recollections of the older song in words borrowed from the writings of the singer. To enable the reader to form his own opinion upon this matter, I here print the song exactly as I found it, adding references to the is the resemblance, that did the dates admit of it, it might be supposed that the writer of the tractate had sat at Master Shallow's board. There are also certain suggestions 'of two other tracts reprinted in the same volume, The Seruing- man's Comfort (1598), and The Courtier and the Countryman, by Nicholas Breton (1618). It seemed worth while preserving from authentic sources some hints of a conflict which'raged whenever Petres and Shallows met together, the course of whichjmay be clearly traced in the literature of the day for in- stance, in the popular songs of the Old and the New English Gentleman. Victory rested with those whom, no doubt, the Petres and Valentines regarded as the stupid party the Shallows, the Silences, and the Vincents. This result was due to solid immobility, \rather than to any success in dialectics. And thus England escaped the disasters which were brought upon France by estrangement of the landed aristocracy from local interests and affairs, resulting from their devotion to ihe'Cyuile Life ; and if the old order must needs change in time and give place to new, {Master Shallow and his fellows have had no small share in bringing it tojpass that the revolution shall be a gradual and a bloodless one. THE HUNTSMAN'S SONG 99 passages of which whatever be the value of my theory it is undoubtedly compounded. THE HUNTE, HIS SONG. My houndes are bred of Southern kinde, 1 So flew'd, so sanded they ; With crooked knees and dew-laps depe, With eares the morning dew that sweepe Slowly they chase their praye ; Their mouths, as tunable as belles Each under each in concert swells. [The reste shall bear this burden 2 The hunte is up, the morne is bright and gray, 3 Hunting us hence with hunte's up to the day. 4 My horse eache common one excels 5 In shape, in courage, pace, In colour, bone, and symmetry ; Of fire compacte, and pure ayre he, 6 The minion of his race ; 7 Pryde in his braided mane, his tayle Aloft, or falling like a vaile. 8 The hunte is up, &c. His hooves are round, his joints are short, 9 His fetlocks shagge and longe ; His breaste is broad, and full his eye, His head is small, his crest is highe, His legs are straight and stronge, His ears are shorte, his buttockes wide Swelling beneath his tender hyde. The hunte is up, &c. The foxe that lives by subtilty l We kill as best we can, By gynnes or snares, 11 but in the chase We'll have some sporte before we case 12 This enemy of man ; 1 Mids. N. Dr. iv. 1. 124. - As You L. iv. 2. 14. 3 Tit. Andr. ii. 2. 1. ' Rom. and Jul. iii. 5. 34. * Yen. and Ad. 293. Hen. V. iii. 7. 22. 7 Macbeth, ii. 4. 15. 8 Yen. and Ad. 314. 9 Yen. and Ad. 295. )0 Cymb. iii. 3. 40. 11 2 Hen. VI. iii. 1. 257. 12 All's Well, iii. 6. 110. H 2 100 SUPPER AT SHALLOW HALL And if he stowes his bush away ' He lives to runne another daye. The hunte is up, &c. The harte unharboured, stands at gaze 2 One moment, then awaye He trippes with light and aery boundes, Until the fell and cruel houndes 3 He holdeth at a bay ; 4 No rascall he his head of stele The bloody houndes shall surely feele. 5 The hunte is up, &c. Beyond all beastys poor tim'rous Wat 6 The hunter's skille doth trye, See how the hounds, with many a doubte The cold fault cleanly single out ! Hark to their merrie crie ! They spende their mouthes, echoe replies, Another chase is in the skies. The hunte is up, &c. Their quarry or their hallo we wonne 7 I tender well my houndes, 8 I wind my home to call the lost, I care them when they are emboss'd, And binde their bleeding woundes. 'Tis merrie hunting, but in hall 'Tis merrier yet, when beards wagge all The hunte is up, &c. The hunting song, whatever may have been its words, was right well received by the company. When the applause had ended the Justice thus addressed William Silence. "Now, cousin William, your father had you at 1 ' The tayle of a foxe is called his bush, or (as some used to say) his holly water sprinkle." Noble Arte. 2 Lucrece, 1149. * Twelfth N. i. 1. 22. 4 Tarn, of- Shrew, v. 2. 56. s 1 Hen. VI. iv. 2. 49. 6 The hare, see Yen. and Ad. 673-708. 7 ' The rewarde of death of any beast of Venerie is called the quarry or reward ; of all other chases it is to be called the hallowe.' Noble Arte. 8 Tarn, of Shrew. Ind. 1. 16. 9 2 Hen. IV. v. 3. 37. AN ANCIENT DRINKING-SONG 101 Oxford, to his cost, and have you learned there no merry song, strange tale, or pleasant riddle, wherewith to divert the company? " "I cannot sing, Master Shallow," said William Silence; " one singer is enough in a family, and you will hear my father anon. But I will, with your leave, repeat you a certain ancient drinking-song writ by one Quintus Horatius Flaccus, which I have made bold to do into English : Persian-like pomp, boy, is not to my mind : Hateful are chaplets with linden entwined : Spare, then, to search through the gardens to find The latest blown rose. Naught to plain myrtle add rack not thy brain Master nor man need the myrtle disdain ; Bowered in vines, whilst thou serv'st, and I drain This cup in repose. " At all events," continued young Silence, " it is good philosophy, if so be that a man be accommodated thereto." "Accommodated ! " said the Justice, " ' it is good : yea, indeed, is it : good phrases are surely, and ever were, very commendable. Accommodated ! it comes of accommodo, very good : a good phrase.' l But for the matter of the song, 'tis no philosophy. Quintus Horatius was a poet, he was no philosopher. Have I not construed him myself ? When I was a boy, I tell thee Master William, I'ld ha' been soundly breeched for calling a poet a philosopher. A poet's a poet, though he write the Latin tongue. The song is a good song. But you should sing it to the tune of Green Sleeves, or Light o' Love, and 'twill sound merrier far ; and if you put to it a refrain, as the ' hunt is up ' or ' down, derry down,' the rest of the company may bear the burden, for a song without a burden is, I take it, no better than ' a curtal dog,' or a fox that hath lost his bush." The conversational powers of the Justice could not long be maintained at this high level. As the evening wore on, Petre, William Silence, and Master Ferdinand formed a group 1 2 Hen. IV. iii. 2. 74. 102 SUPPER AT SHALLOW HALL by themselves, while Justice Shallow and old Silence fell into their wonted groove of discourse. The serving-men were appealed to, and joined freely in conversation. For a good serving-man was expected to make himself not only generally useful, but agreeable to boot. He was not only to wear his garments decently (especially his livery coat, sword and buckler), to carve well knowing how to unlace a cony, raise a capon, and trump a crane but he should have skill in wrestling, leaping, running, and dancing. In the words of an old writer ' there are also of those that can shoote in long Bowes, crosse Bowes, or handgunne ; yea there wanteth not some that are both so wise and of so good audacitie as they can & doo (for lacke of better company) entertain their Maister with table talke, bee it his pleasure to speake either of Hawkes or houndes, fishinge or fowling, sowing or graffinge, ditchinge or hedginge, the dearth or cheapenes of grayne, or any such matters wherof Gentlemen commonly speake in the Country, bee it either of pleasure or profit, these good fellowes know sum what in all.' 1 We know well the matters of which Shallow and old Silence would discourse before supper. Then it was ' How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair ? How a score of ewes now ? ' ; and as to Davy, he would entertain his master with talk of the serving of precepts ; of sowing the headland with wheat ; of ' the smith's note, for shoeing, and plough-irons ; ' of how ' a new link to the bucket must needs be had ; ' and of the stopping ' of William's wages, about the sack he lost the other day at Hinckley fair.' 2 But why not, when we may, exchange the dull notes of the diarist for a lively record of the very words spoken ? It needs only to read Master Petre and Ferdinand for Falstaff and Bardolph as the visitors at the Hall, and the story is complete. This change matters little, for though at Shallow Hall men might come and men might go, yet the after- dinner talk ever flowed in the self-same stream. And if you observe a change in Master Ferdinand Petre after supper, 1 The Cyuile and Vncyuile Life, 1579. 2 2 Hen. IV. v. 1. 14. MASTER SILENCE SINGS 103 and seek for an explanation, you must study the operations of ' good sherris-sack ' upon the brain, and upon ' the fool- ish and dull and crudy vapours which environ it,' noting the no less wonderful change wrought thereby in the deportment of old Silence. Petr. [Fal.] This Davy serves you for good uses ; he is your serving-man and your husbandman. Shal A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good varlet. . . . By the mass, I have drunk too much sack at supper ; a good varlet. Now sit down, now sit down : come, cousin. Sil. Ah, sirrah ! quoth-a, we shall Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer. [Singing. And praise God for the merry year ; When flesh is cheap and females dear, And lusty lads roam here and there So merrily, And ever among so merrily. Petr. [Fal.] There's a merry heart ! Good Master Silence, I'll give you a health for that anon. Shal. Give Master Ferdinand [Bardolph] some wine, Davy. Davy. Sweet sir, sit. . . . Preface ! What you want in meat, we'll have in drink. But you must bear : the heart's all. (Exit.) Shal. Be merry, Master Ferdinand [Bardolph], ... be merry. Sil. Be merry, be merry, my wife has all. [Singing. For women are shrews, both short and tall : 'Tis merry in hall, when beards wag all, 1 And welcome merry Shrove-tide. Be merry, be merry. Petr. [Fal.] I did not think Master Silence had been a man of this mettle. Sil. Who, I ? I have been merry twice and once ere now. Ee-enter DAVY. Davy. There is a dish of leather-coats for you. (To Ferdinand [Bardolph]. Shal. Davy ! 1 A song with this line as a burden is mentioned in The Seruing -man's Comfort (1598), as commonly sung after supper in hall. 104 SUPPER AT SHALLOW HALL Davy. Your worship ! I'll be with you straight. (To Ferdinand [Bardolph}) A cup of wine, sir ? Sil. A cup of wine, that's brisk and fine, (Singing.) And drink unto the leman mine : And a merry heart lives long-a. Petr. [Fal] Well said, Master Silence. Sil. An we shall be merry, now conies in the sweet o* the night. Petr. [Fal.] Health and long life to you, Master Silence. Sil. Fill the cup and let it come ; (Singing.) I'll pledge you a mile to the bottom. Shal. Master Ferdinand [Honest Bardolph] welcome : If thou wantest any thing, and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart . . . welcome, indeed, too. I'll drink to Master Ferdinand [Bardolph] and to all the cavaleros about London. Davy. I hope to see London once ere I die. Ferd. [Bard.] An I might see you there, Davy, Shal. By the mass, you'll crack a quart together, ha ! will you not, master ? Ferd. [Bard] Yes, sir, in a pottle-pot. Shal. By God's liggens I thank thee : the knave will stick by thee, I can assure thee that ; A' will not out : he is true bred. Ferd. [Bard.] And I'll stick by him, sir. Shal. Why, there spoke a king. Lack nothing ; be merry. Petr. [Fal] Why, now you have done me right. (To Silence, seeing him take off a bumper.) Sil. Do me right, (Singing.) And dub me knight : Samingo. Is't not so ? Petr. [Fal.] Tis so. Sil. Is't so ? Why, then say, an old man can do somewhat. 2 Hen. IV. v. 3. 10. So they talked, and so old Silence sang, until the word was given ' carry Master Silence to bed ; ' while one that sat at the board thought thus with himself of Master Shallow and his men. ' It is a wonderful thing to see the semblable coherence THE JUSTICE AND HIS MEN 105 of his men's spirits and his : they, by observing of him, do bear themselves like foolish justices ; he, by conversing with them, is turned into a justice-like serving-man : their spirits are so married in conjunction with the participation of society that they flock together in consent, like so many wild-geese. If I had a suit to Master Shallow, I would humour his men with the imputation of being near their master : if to his men I would curry with Master Shallow that no man could better command his servants. It is certain, that either wise bearing or ignorant carriage is caught, as men take diseases, one of another : therefore, let men take heed of their company. ' I will devise matter enough out of this Shallow to keep in continual laughter ' l . . . not Prince Harry, but the world ; and that beyond the wearing out of many fashions, even so long as the English tongue shall be spoken. And he kept his word. 1 2 Hen. IV. v. 1. 72. CHAPTEE VIII THE GLOUCESTEBSHIBE JUSTICES I will fetch off these Justices : I do see the bottom of Justice Shallow. Second Part of King Henry IV. IT has been already observed that the original outlines of Master Kobert Shallow of Gloucestershire ; of his fellows Slender and Silence ; and of Davy, Clement Perkes, William Visor, with their local surroundings, were somewhat obscured by the subsequent identification of the Justice with Sir Thomas Lucy of Charlecot, in Warwickshire. That Shake- speare at some time of his life intended this identification is beyond doubt. But I am convinced that no such design formed part of his original conception. In some notes to these pages I have collected various local indications which seem to show that the Gloucestershire of Shakespeare was no mere geographical expression, but a real place trodden by his feet, and inhabited by real men and women with whom he had held converse. We have spent so much time in their company, that it may be worth while to pursue the subject somewhat further, and to devote a few pages to the inquiries : was Master Eobert Shallow originally intended as a caricature of Sir Thomas Lucy? And if not, how happened it that the characters came to be generally identi- fied? 1 1 Many of the facts referred to in this chapter are collected in Malone's Life of Shakespeare, and in an interesting and suggestive article which appeared in Fraser's Magazine (April 1877), entitled Master Robert Sliallmv, signed, C. THE LUCYS OF OHAELECOT 107 The Lucys of Charlecot were among the foremost knightly families of England. Their associations were courtly, as well as literary. Sir Thomas Lucy was born in 1532, and was educated by Fox the martyrologist, no mean scholar, and the author of several comedies in Latin, who found a refuge at Charlecot after his expulsion from Mag- dalen College, and before he became tutor in the family of the Duke of Norfolk. At the early age of fifteen, or there- about, Thomas Lucy married a rich heiress, and four years afterwards succeeded to the family estates, on the death of his father, Sir William Lucy, Knight. A few years later he rebuilt the ancient hall at Charlecot, constructing it in the form of the letter E by way of delicate compliment to his sovereign, who recognised his loyal devotion by visiting him in the year 1572. He was elected knight of the shire in 1571, and again in 1584. The Commons Journal bears witness to his attention to public business. In 1571 we find him serving on a committee appointed upon a motion for uniformity of religion, and for redress of certain defec- tions ; the object of the motion being (as appears from the speech of the mover) to ' purge the common prayer book, and free it from certain superstitious ceremonies, as using the sign of the cross in baptism, &c.' He took part in a conference with members of the House of Lords, ' touching the bill against priests disguising themselves in serving- men's apparel.' In 1584 he presented a petition touching the liberty of godly preachers, ' and also for the speedy supply of able and sufficient men into divers places now destitute, and void of the ordinary means of salvation.' In the same year we find him associated with Sir Philip Sydney, the Lord Kussell, Sir Walter Ealeigh, and Sir Thomas Cecil on a committee to consider ' in what measure and manner they should supply Her Majesty by subsidy.' His latest parliamentary appearance was as member of a committee, to whom was referred a bill for the preservation Elliot Browne. I have not thought it necessary to verify Malone's dates, or his extracts from the Commons Journal and other sources of information. 108 THE GLOUCESTERSHIRE JUSTICES of grain and game. This bill never became law ; it may have been to the same effect as 7 James I. c. 11, entitled ' An Act to prevent the spoil of corn and grain by untimely hawking, and for the better preservation of pheasants and partridges.' He served twice as sheriff, in 1569 and in 1578. He appears to have been chosen as arbitrator in disputes between burgesses of Stratford. Clarenceux king-at-arms, in the person of Camden the antiquarian, with Windsor and Lancaster heralds, attended the knight's funeral (so he certifies) and bore ' the cote of arms ' of which we have heard, probably (for it was then autumn) flaunting the white luces (hauriant, arg.) in the sight of one who was just then re-writing his first hasty rough sketch of a comedy entitled The Merry Wives of Windsor. His son Sir Thomas appears to have been possessed of a collection of French and Italian books. Of his grandson, also Sir Thomas, a con- temporary poetaster writes : The all beloved and highly-prized gem, That in the Court's brow like a diamond, Or Hesperus in heaven doth lighten them For men to see their way in glory's ground. Another grandson of Sir Thomas Luoy was Bishop of St. David's, and I have read that a third was to have been a member of James I.'s ' Academe Royal.' Altogether, the family of Lucy had many points of contact with the great world of the day, and life and conversation at Charlecot must have been affected by various currents of contemporary thought and action religious, political, courtly, and literary. Essentially shallow the old Puritan knight may have been, but his associations and surroundings, and (so far as we can judge) his characteristics were widely different from those of the Gloucestershire Justice whom the world knows by the name of Robert Shallow. Socially, morally, and intellectually they breathed atmospheres as different as is the air which clings to the warm meadows, scented pastures, MASTER ROBERT SHALLOW 109 and stately woodlands of Charlecot, from the thin and eager breezes of a Cots wold hillside. The Robert Shallow of the second part of Henry IV. had in early life enjoyed one glimpse of the larger and fuller life of the metropolis. That golden time was now fifty-five years distant. He had been in truth but an outsider, a spectator of scenes enacted by others. But to his sight the very ordinary adventures of his youth assumed gigantic proportions, as he looked back to them across the dead level of his Gloucestershire existence. The advent of Sir John Falstaff ' about soldiers ' revived ancient recollections of Clement's Inn, 'where, I think, they will talk of mad Shallow yet.' Those were the days when he 'would have done anything, indeed, and roundly too,' when he and old Silence heard the chimes of midnight, with the famous swinge-bucklers, little John Doit of Staffordshire, black George Bare, Francis Pickbone, and our friend Will Squele a Cotswold man. These memories mingled strangely with the prosaic realities of everyday life. Shal. The mad days that I have spent ! and to see how many of mine old acquaintance are dead ! Sil. We shall all follow, cousin. Shal. Certain, 'tis certain ; very sure, very sure : death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all ; all shall die. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair ? Sil. By my troth, I was not there. Shal. Death is certain. Is old Double of your town living yet? Sil. Dead, sir. Shal. Jesu, Jesu, dead ! A' drew a good bow ! And dead ! a' shot a fine shoot : John a Gaunt loved him well, and betted much money on his head. Dead ! a' would have clapp'd i' the clout at twelve score ; and carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen and fourteen and a half, that it would have done a man's heart good to see. How a score of ewes now ? Sil. Thereafter as they be : a score of good ewes may be worth ten pounds. Shal. And is old Double dead? 2 Hen. IV. iii. 2. 36. Sir John arrives, and is greeted as an old acquaintance, 110 THE GLOUCESTERSHIRE JUSTICES but with the deference due to a visitor from the greater world. He affects to recognise Shallow's companion : Fal. Master Surecard, as I think ? Shal. No, Sir John ; it is my cousin Silence, in commission with me. Fal. Good Master Silence, it well befits you should be of the peace. Sil. Your good worship is welcome. Ibid. 95. Shallow proceeds to call the roll of recruits, with his wonted fussy iteration : Where's the roll? where's the roll? where's the roll ? Let me see, let me see, let me see. So, so, so, so, so, so, so ; Yea, marry sir ! Ralph Mouldy ! Let them appear as I call ; let them do so ; let them do so. Let me see. Ibid. 106. Business concluded, the Justice talks of old times. He does not get much response at first from the knight, who probably never exchanged a word with him in their youth : Shal. O Sir John, do you remember since we lay all night in the windmill in Saint George's field ? Fal. No more of that, good Master Shallow, no more of that. Shal. Ha! it was a merry night. And is Jane Nightwork alive ? Fal. She lives, Master Shallow. Shal. She never could away with me. Fal. Never, never : she would always say, she could not abide Master Shallow. Shal. By the mass, I could anger her to the heart. She was then a bona-roba. Doth she hold her own well ? Fal. Old, old, Master Shallow. Ibid. 206. The knight, all this time, has been turning over in his mind and considering to what profitable use he may turn the prof- fered friendship of the Justice : As I return, I will fetch off these justices : I do see the bottom of Justice Shallow. Lord, lord, how subject we old men are to this vice of lying ! This same starved justice hath done nothing but prate to me of the wildness of his youth, and the feats he hath done about Turnbull-street, and every third word a lie, duer paid to the hearer than the Turk's tribute. I do remember him at SHALLOW AND FALSTAFF 111 Clement's Inn like a man made after supper of a cheese-paring : when a' was naked, he was, for all the world, like a forked radish, with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife : a' was so forlorn, that his dimensions to any thick sight were invincible ; a' was the very genius of famine. Ibid. 323. In those bygone days Jack Falstaff, page to Thomas Mow- bray Duke of Norfolk, would not have been conscious of the existence of the Gloucestershire squireling. But times have changed, the knight's purse needs replenishing, 'and now has he land and beefs. Well, I'll be acquainted with him, if I return : and it shall go hard but I will make him a philosopher's two stones to me ; if the young dace be a bait for the old pike, I see no reason in the law of nature but I may snap at him. Let time shape, and there an end.' l He does return. And sorely are the resources of the Shallow establishment taxed to provide a suitable entertain- ment for him and his followers. Shal. Some pigeons, Davy, a couple of short-legged hens, a joint of mutton, and any pretty little tiny kickshaws, tell William cook. Davy. Doth the man of war stay all night, sir ? Shal. Yes, Davy. I will use him well : A friend i' the Court is better than a penny in purse. Ibid. v. 1 27. Such is the Shallow of the second part of Henry IV. If he is intended as the counterfeit presentment of Sir Thomas Lucy, the satire is certainly veiled, and it was not necessary to conceal it further by locating the whole group of charac- ters at the further extremity of an adjoining county. In outward circumstances there is nothing in common between the head of the household in which Davy served so many good uses, and the wealthy entertainer of royalty at Charlecot. It is not possible that the old precisian ; married at fifteen ; full of prayer-book revision, priest's apparel, parliamentary committees, preservation of game and grain, domestic archi- tecture, affairs of court and state, and varied activities con- tinued throughout life, could have discoursed, like Bobert 1 Ibid. 353. 112 THE GLOUCESTERSHIRE JUSTICES Shallow, of nothing beyond the homely surroundings, the trivial occurrences, and petty economies of rustic life, with occasional reminiscences of a half-mythical youth in which he saw afar off the doings of a great world of which he formed no part. There would have been no point in repre- senting Sir Thomas Lucy, the host of the Queen, as having a distant view of royalty but once in the tilt-yard, and then getting his head broken for crowding among the marshal's men. Indeed, from what we know of the master of Charle- cot, his history, position, tastes, pursuits, and surroundings, he might fairly be selected as a type of country gentleman contrasting in every particular with the immortal Justice of Henry IV. The second part of Henry IV. was produced about the year 1597. The Gloucestershire justices attained immediate popularity, and were recognised as types. Ben Jonson in Every Man out of his Humour, first acted in 1599, thus alludes to Master Shallow : Sam. What's he, gentle Mons. Brisk ? Not that gentleman ? Fast. No, lady : this is a kinsman to Justice Shallow. In Decker's Satiromastix (1602) we read of ' spangle babies, these true heirs of Master Justice Shallow.' And a letter has been preserved from one Sir Charles Percy, a member of the Northumberland family, settled at Dumbleton in Gloucestershire, addressed to a friend in London, pro- bably in the year 1600, in which this passage occurs : ' I am here so pestred with cuntrie businesse that I shall not bee able as yet to come to London. If I stay heere long in this fashion I think you will find mee so dull that I shall be taken for Justice Silence or Justice Shallow.' We now come to Eobert Shallow of the Merry Wives of Windsor. According to a tradition of respectable anti- quity the Merry Wives was written in fourteen days, by command of the Queen, who wished to enjoy the spectacle of Falstaff making love. The existence of the quarto an early edition of the first sketch as performed ' both before her Maiestie and elsewhere ' affords some confirmation of ABRAHAM SLENDER 113 a story which is more likely to be true than fabricated for no reason that can be readily imagined. The quarto differs from the folio as a rough draft from a completed work, not as an imperfect copy from an original document. Scenes are re-arranged and entire passages transposed. Nor is this all. In the quarto, Shallow plays a very subordinate part. Now Shallow was one of the best known and most popular of Shakespeare's creations. If the first scene of the comedy had originally stood as we have it now, it is unlikely that the most hasty or careless of surreptitious copyists could have missed all about the Justice's new-born dignities, his dozen white luces in his coat, with their suggestions, to his apprehension so apt and sensible. In the quarto, Shallow, so far from bragging of his county offices and ancient coat- armour, keeps up his old deferential bearing towards Falstaff. ' Tho' he be a knight, he shall not thinke to carrie it so away.' He is, in short, the Gloucestershire Robert Shallow of Henry IV. without any suggestion of Sir Thomas Lucy as yet superadded. He is, no doubt, owner of a deer-park, for he has deer and a keeper. But this would never suggest Sir Thomas Lucy, who had no park, though he probably had deer. Parks were numerous in Gloucestershire, and Robert Shallow, simple though he stood, was of sufficient sub- stance to lay his hands forthwith on one thousand pounds, and may well have possessed a deer-park. Shallow takes but little part in the action of the early sketch. His chief business is to introduce his nephew Slender, and to identify him with the Gloucestershire group. This inimitable character assumes his full proportions in the folio, but is fairly developed in the quarto. It has been well said that he represents the young Gloucestershire of the day. He may have been endowed by nature with a fair share of intel- ligence, but it has all been devoted to the study of the habits of the lower animals for purposes of sport. He can detect the presence of bears in Windsor by the peculiar barking of the town curs. He knows the performance of every greyhound on Cotswold. r 114 THE GLOUCESTERSHIRE JUSTICES To him Master Page is the master of the celebrated fallow greyhound, rather than the father of sweet Anne Page. He had fought with a warrener, and had thus taken the first degree in that school of fashion, of which the masters have ' full often struck a doe, And borne her cleanly by the keeper's nose ? ' l His serving-man boasts that ' he is as tall a man of his hands as any is between this and his head.' He measures the relative proportions of men and things by the standard of Gloucestershire. He is interested in the blazonry of arms very necessary to be understood of gentlemen, and a part of every manual of etiquette, from the Boke of St. Albans to the Compleat Gentleman. Slen. I may quarter, eoz. Shal. You may, by marrying. 2 His uncle, though he came to Windsor unattended, is a person of consequence in his own county, for ' a justice of the peace sometime may be beholden to his friend for a man. I keep but three men and a boy yet, till my mother be dead : But what though ? yet I live like a poor gentleman born.' 3 But still he can make a hundred and fifty pounds jointure (no mean sum in those days) , and Page chooses him for his money and position, among the suitors for his daughter's hand. He is a degree above the burgesses of Windsor, ' O, I should remember him,' says Mrs. Quickly ; ' does not he hold up his head, as it were, and strut in his gait ? ' It was rare humour to exhibit this specimen of young Gloucestershire in sharp contrast with the civil burgesses of Windsor, and with the gilded youth of London represented by Fenton the companion of ' the wild prince and Poins,' of whom it is said, he ' capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth, he writes verses, he speaks holyday, he smells April and May.' In this company Slender was accounted a fool. Awkward in address, unaccustomed to the give and take of civil society, and not having at hand his Book of Songs and Sonnets or his Book of Riddles, he was unhappy alike in 1 Tit. Andr. ii. 1. 93. * Merry Wives, i. 1. 24. 3 Ibid. 281. SHALLOW AND LCJCY 115 earnest and in jest. He makes love to Anne Page by talking to her of bear-baiting. He offends Master Page by insisting on the defeat of his dog on Cotsall. Conversa- tionally at his wits' end, he appeals to his uncle to come to his rescue with the marvellous family joke of how his father stole two geese out of a pen. By the addition of Slender, the group of Gloucestershire worthies was complete. As types of English country life they stand unrivalled. It is strangest of Shakespearian paradoxes that the limner of these portraits never professed to sketch a contemporary Englishman. Years passed by. The Merry Wives was re-written, we know not when, and in the completed edition the identity of Bobert Shallow was destroyed, we know not why. In the opening lines of the first scene the old Gloucestershire Justice tells the audience that he is now a great county magnate, of the quorum, and no less than custos rotulorum, and that his name is Lucy, for this is meant by the heraldic device by which his coat was charged with luces. It was a pity. Critics have deplored the degradation of Jack Falstaff into another and a lesser man in obedience to the Queen's commands, and we may regret the sacrifice of old Kobert Shallow to the promptings of resentment against some member of the Lucy family. What the provocation was can never be known. The least probable of all theories is that Shallow was identified with Lucy to avenge an old quarrel about deer-stealing, raked up after twenty years, and when old Sir Thomas was dead. It is more probable that the deer-stealing legend had its origin in the first scene of the re-written Merry Wives, and colour is given to this suppo- sition by the earliest version of the story, as it appears in the diary of Mr. Davies. But Falstaff steals Shallow's deer in the early sketch, before the county dignities and white luces come on the scene. So far from receiving any con- firmation from the opening scene of the Merry Wives, the story is distinctly discredited by the discovery of its probable origin. The tradition, however, should not be i 2 116 THE GLOUCESTERSHIRE JUSTICES wholly disregarded, for the fact that it was accepted in Stratford at an early date is evidence that Shakespeare's tastes and habits made it seem likely to the townsfolk that he might have got into trouble by loving sport, not wisely, but too well. To fit him for his new-born dignities, and probably to heighten the satire as regards Sir Thomas Lucy, Shallow undergoes a perceptible change. The old Gloucestershire Justice is fussy, important in his way, and self-complacent ; but deferential rather than self-asserting. Shallow, the custos rotulorum, is decidedly pompous. He dwells on his dignities, and poses as a personage. 'Kobert Shallow, Esquire, saith he is wronged.' He patronises ' honest Master Page,' on whom he had bestowed a gift of venison, (' you know, sir, one says honest to one's inferiors,' remarked Fag to Captain Absolute). Page. I am glad to see your worships well. I thank you for my venison, Master Shallow. Shal. Master Page, I am glad to see you : much good do it your good heart ! I wished your venison better ; it was ill killed. How doth good Mistress Page ? and I love you always with my heart, la ! with my heart. 1 He has a way of summing up a discussion with an ex- pression of his opinion, as if all further question were idle, as in the matter of Page's dog : ' Sir, he's a good dog, and a fair dog: can there be more said? he is good, and fair.' * This may have been a trick of Sir Thomas's. We have one composition undoubtedly from his pen, ' set down by him that best did know what hath been written to be true, Thomas Lucy' it is the epitaph on his wife the Lady Joyce Lucy, which may be read upon her monument in Charlecot church. After enumerating her many virtues, amongst others the negative one that she was ' never con- victed of any vice or crime,' the knight sums up : ' when all is spoken that can be said, a woman so furnished and 1 Merry Wives, i. 1. 80. J Ibid. 98. AN OLD-FASHIONED JUSTICE 117 garnished with virtue as not to be bettered and hardly to be equalled by any.' But whatever may have induced Shakespeare to trans- mute Shallow into Lucy, we who are not in the quarrel may disport ourselves with the old Justice in his Gloucestershire manor in the hundred of Berkeley. What took Shakespeare to the abode of the Perkeses and Visors can never be known ; from which is derived this advantage that it is impossible to disprove the story told in these pages. A yeoman's guest in a remote country neighbourhood, he would have many opportunities of mixing on familiar terms with the country esquires, and thus seeing the bottom of Master Shallow and his fellows. It was the custom of the cultured and civilised Lucys to sneer at the old-fashioned Shallows, who, for want of better company, filled their halls with yeoman neighbours. This we may learn from the following fragment of a dialogue between Vincent, the country gentleman, and Vallentine, the courtier, taken from the Cyuile and Vncyuile Life, already referred to and published in the year 1579. Vincent. In fowle weather, we send for some honest neighbours, if happely we bee with our wives alone at home (as seldome we are), and with them we play at Dice and Gardes, sorting our selues accordinge to the number of Players, and their skill, some to Tick- tacke, some Lurche, some to Irish game, or Dublets : other sit close to the Gardes at Post & Paire, at Euffe, or Colchester Trumpe, at Mack or Maw : yea, there are some euer so fresh gamesters, as wil bare you copany at Nouem Quinque, at Faring, Trey trip, or one & thirty, for I warrant you we haue right good fellowes in the countrey, sumtimes also (for shift of sports, you know, is delectable) we fall to slide thrifte, to Penny prick, & in winter nights we use certaine Christmas games very propper & of much agilitie. ... Or if we haue cotinually dwelt at home & bin Justices of Peace, we accept what grave Judges & gentlemen we haue scene sit on our Bench, & with what eloquence we haue (when it was our turne) geuen the charge. Vallentine. Certainly, Syr, you haue told me of many proper pleasures, and honest exercises. But with all let me aske you what Neighboures these companions bee, of whom you have told me. 118 THE GLOUCESTERSHIRE JUSTICES Vincent. They are our honest neighbours, Yeomen of the Coun- trey, and good honest fellowes, dwellers there about : as Grasiers, Butchers, Farmers, Drovers, Carpenters, Carriers, Taylors, & suchlike men, very honest and good companions. Vallentine. And so I thinke, but not for you beeing a Gentleman. For as their resort vnto your house shall give them occasion to learne some point of ciuility, and curtesie, so your conuersinge with them will make you taste of their bluntnes and rusticitie, which wil very euill become a man of your calling. Vincent. What, would you then haue me Hue alone and solitary ? That were worse then to be dead. Master Shallow and this Vincent had much in common. They were both justices of the peace, who dwelt continually at home. Shallow, like Vincent, had his views on the sub- ject of the education of youth. Having sent them ' to the Universitie where may become so learned as they gaine by learning their owne living/ he would have them brought up ' in ye Innes of Court where if they profite, wee suffer them to proceede ; if not, speedily revoke them from thence, least they acquaint themselves to much with the licentious customes of the Cittie ; ' reasons which may have induced the elder Shallow to revoke Master Robert from the company of the swashbucklers of Clement's Inn, where after fifty-five years they talked of mad Shallow yet. Shallow, like Vincent, expected his serving-man to discourse of ' sowing or graffing, ditchinge or hedginge, the dearth or cheapnes of grayne, or any such matters.' And Shallow, like Vincent, was wont to bid to Shallow Hall not only the Slenders and Squeles, but old Double of the next town, 1 with the Perkeses, the Visors, and I make no doubt the Shakespeares and their kindred. Shakespeare's selection of the rustic Vincents, rather thai? 1 Dursley was the ' town ' to dwellers in the neighbourhood of Woncot and the Hill. In old times, says De Foe, it was ' noted for sharp over-reaching people, from whence arose a saying of a tricking man, " He is a man of Dursley," ' a saying equivalent, according to Fuller, to fides Punica (quoted in Dursley and its Neighbourhood, by the Rev. John H. Blunt, 1877). Shake- speare's country Justice is Shallow, and his kinsman Slender. Was it without design that the dweller in the neighbouring town of Dursley was old Double ? A VISITOR IN HIS HALL 119 the civil Vallentines, for immortalisation in his plays, was no doubt influenced by the consideration that they lent themselves more readily to caricature. It may also be due, in part, to the fact that their mode of life afforded him better opportunities of studying their special characteristics. Thus it came to pass that the silent youth who in Master Shallow's hall noted ' the semblable coherence of his men's spirits and his,' could ' see the bottom of Justice Shallow,' and thereby attained such excellent matter as without the same opportunities it might have been, even for him, impos- sible to devise. CHAPTEK IX THE HOLY ALE Were I in England now . . . there would this monster make a man ; any strange beast there makes a man ; when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar. Tfie Tempest. IT was from no Sabbatarian feeling that Abraham Slender rested from hunting on the day following the chase of the Cots wold hart. It was all very well for parson Savage of Dursley to denounce the country customs of church-ales, and morris- dances in the churchyard, with Bobin Hood, Maid Marian, and such-like abominations. For Master George Savage was, as all the countryside knew, a puritan. To the Slenders and Aguecheeks of the day, a puritan was simply the arch enemy of human enjoyment. ' O, if I thought that, I'ld beat him like a dog ! ' 1 Such would have bqen Slender' s short method with the puritans, if he had thought of the subject at all. As for the Justice, he had (as we all know) a leaning towards puritanism ; but even he would never have gone so far as to hold that Sunday was an unfit day for sport. He would often ride over on Sundays to Dursley, where he was used to put up his horse with his kinsman, old Silence. " Master George Savage," he would say, " is a godly and painful preacher ; moreover, the church is fair and lightsome, the windows having been glassed with clear white glass, and 1 Twelfth N. ii. 3. 153. SHALLOW CHURCH 121 all Popish abominations having been throughly removed. I mind well when Dursley church was whitelimed through- out. Old Double did it. Aye, that he did, and throughly too. I mind well when he bought twenty-five sacks of lime of the lime burner of Sudbury. 1 Truly your quicklime is a marvellous great purger of your false doctrine. Whatso- ever is expended on my own church at Shallow must needs be laid out of my own charge, and the cost of glassing and of lime is great, or else you would see no idle images or lying histories in the windows, or on the walls." The Perkeses and Bullcalfs of the next century made short work of windows, wall paintings, and images, with but little thought of the cost of replacing them. The whirligig of time has brought in his revenges. Their descendants of to-day have raised quite a large sum, notwithstanding agricultural depression, for the purpose of replacing the stained glass in accordance with ancient fragments, and of restoring the wall paintings, traces of which were discovered beneath the seven- teenth-century plaster. But Master Shallow was not in earnest like these men, or even as his thirteenth century ancestor, who built the church at his proper cost to avoid the consequences in the next world of having in the present life forcibly deprived his neighbour of his wife. Little practical result of Master Savage's teaching was discernible beyond an occasional pious ejaculation, or doubtful quotation from psalmist or apostle, and the substitution of the approved ' by cock and pie,' ' by yea and nay,' for the racier expletives of Clement's Inn. As for his tenants at Shallow, Sir Topaz and the un- cleansed church, with ' Pharaoh's soldiers in the reechy painting,' and ' god Bel's priests ' 2 in its idolatrous windows, were good enough for them. The advowson, part of the estates of Shallow, was, of course, turned to as profitable use as might be. The Justice was one of those of whom Burton writes : 3 ' Patrons they are by right of inheritance, and put 1 See Note, Sliakespeare and Gloucestershire. 2 Much Ado, iii. 3. 142. 3 Anatomy of Melancholy. 122 THE HOLY ALE in trust freely to dispose of such livings to the church's good : but (hard taskmasters they prove) they take away their straw and compel them to make their number of bricks ; commodity is the straw of all their actions ; and him they present in conclusions, as a man of greatest gifts that will give most ; no penny, no Paternoster, as the saying is ... a clerk may offer himself, approve his worth, honesty, religion, zeal, they will commend him for it, but probitas laudatur et alget. If he be a man of extraordinary parts, they will flock afar off to hear him. . . . But if some poor scholar, some parson chaff, will offer himself, some trencher chaplain that will take it to the halves, thirds, or accept of what he will give, he is welcome.' On these terms it was that Sir Topaz was made welcome to the advowson of Shallow a dull man, learned, however, in the nature of spirits, and with some skill in the matter of exorcism. But the Justice had no intention of deserting Shallow church and Sir Topaz on the Sunday which followed the chase of the Cotswold hart. A memorable and significant event had taken place in the parish, which was to be the occasion of a function of unusual solemnity. A few days previously Mistress Slender's brindled cow had brought into the world a calf, in other respects ordinary enough, but possessing two heads instead of the customary allowance of one. A reader unacquainted with the habits of thought pre- valent in the Elizabethan age may be pardoned for inquiring what relation such an event could bear to a religious cele- bration in the village of Shallow, and his curiosity is so reasonable that I proceed to gratify it ; the more readily because the events of the day as detailed by the diarist may afford some idea of the manner in which a Sunday festival was held in a Gloucestershire village three hundred years ago. Old Mistress Slender was sitting in her parlour, con- cocting a cordial mixture for which her family had long been famous, when Simple rushed in, followed by the entire A STRANGE PORTENT 123 household and exclaiming, " For the Lord's sake, mistress, the devil is born to the brindled cow, and Sir Topaz is out hunting with Master Abraham. I fear we be all undone." Now, at this very moment, the sound of Master Blender's horn announced that he and Sir Topaz were returning from hunting ; a fact that the excellent lady accounts among the fortunate circumstances of her life, as often as she recounts a story which took its place among the family narratives, second only to the famous tale of how her late lamented husband stole two geese out of a pen. "For what," she would say, " might a poor lorn widow do with the devil in her byre, and she not a papist, and not having so much as an agnus in the house, which, indeed, the Justice calls idolatry, and he must needs be right ; but I mind well that my mother never was without an agnus, though kept under lock and key, and in those days never a calf had more than one head. But the saying is you cannot eat your cake and have your cake, and it may be that the agnus is not worth the fine, especially with Sir Topaz nigh at hand, for all the county knows that he is mighty powerful with the foul fiend." Scarcely had these thoughts passed through the mind of the worthy lady when Sir Topaz and Abraham Slender entered the parlour. " For heaven's sake, Sir Topaz," exclaimed Mistress Slender, " may mercy preserve us, the foul fiend is in the byre, and hath been seen of Simple. For the love of heaven cast him forth, Sir Topaz, or we are undone." A clergyman of the Church of England requested by a parishioner to cast out a devil would in these days probably manifest some surprise. Sir Topaz showed none. He accepted the appeal as a call to the discharge of occasional duty, of a kind rare, perhaps, but quite within the scope of his clerical office. Turning to Simple he asked, " How hath the foul fiend manifested himself ? " " With two heads, an't please your worship," said Simple, 124 THE HOLY ALE " and four hoofs, and that smell of brimstone as is not to be believed." "This must be looked to forthwith," said Sir Topaz, " for the safety of the family, and for the credit of the parish, in the which there hath been known no manifestation of the powers of evil since Nan Kettle was burned for witch- craft. You, Simple, show me the locus in quo" "Aye, forsooth, if that be the name o't. But a' be within the byre. It be the door beyond the stable, your worship knows it well. I'll tarry with my mistress to pro- tect her, an't it please your worship, lest the foul fiend may perchance assault her when cast out by your worship." "Follow me, Mistress Slender," said Sir Topaz, "and thou, cowardly hind. Be not afraid of the fiends of dark- ness. They may not withstand the powers of light." Opening the door of the out-house, Sir Topaz looked in, saw the brindled cow quietly standing by her unhappy offspring, now no more, and thus addressed Mistress Slender : " Fear not, madam, and thou Peter Simple hide not behind thy mistress ; this is no manifestation of the powers of evil. This is a portent of the same order of things as comets, eclipses, falling stars, or the commoner marvel of the rainbow, which obey no natural law but are set forth for the admonition and guidance of peoples. It may be that this sign is vouchsafed for the rising and fall of many in this parish, or even in this county. Let the creature be placed with all care in the church porch, so that it may be reverently viewed by all. It is my design to discourse thereon next Sunday." The news of the monstrous birth spread far and wide. Squires and yeomen from neighbouring parishes, burgesses from Dursley, and even the parson from Berkeley came to see the marvellous portent. 1 Opinions were much divided 1 The dramatists take many sly hits at the love of the British public for such spectacles as monsters. ' Were I in England now,' said Trinculo, when he discovered Caliban lying on the ground, ' as once I was, and had but this fish SIR TOPAZ DISCOURSES 125 as to its significance. The most popular theory connected its appearance in some way with designs of the papists. Clement Perkes hoped it boded no ill to the Queen. William Visor asked what could men expect when commons were enclosed and rents raised ? There was, indeed, an opposition party. It was said that parson Savage of Dursley talked of foolish superstition. But this was generally attributed to envy on his part, inas- much as the marvel had not been vouchsafed to his parish, and the announcement of his intention to discourse on the subject of idle beliefs attracted but little attention when it became known that the portent would be visible for the last time in the porch of Shallow church on Sunday. The quiet little hamlet presented an unusually gay appear- ance on this memorable occasion. The village green was covered with booths. There were attractions of various kinds. The churchwardens had taken advantage of the unusual concourse of strangers as the occasion of a church- ale. Great barrels of ale, the product of malt contributed by the parishioners according to their several abilities, were set abroach in the north aisle of the church, and their contents sold to the public. This was an ordinary way of providing for church expenses, against which earnest reformers inveighed, but as yet in vain so far as Shallow was concerned. The church stood conveniently near the village green, and the brisk trade which was carried on all day was not interrupted by the progress of divine service. Sir Topaz's discourse suffered serious interruption by reason of the numbers who crowded into the aisles to gaze on the portent, painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver : then would this monster make a man ; any strange beast makes a man ' (Temp. ii. 2. 29). ' I beseech you, heartily,' said Ford to the company, ' some of you go home with me to dinner : besides your cheer, you shall have sport ; I will show you a monster. . . . All. Have with you to see this monster.' (Merry Wives, iii. 2. 80.) ' We'll have thee,' says Macduff to Macbeth, as he calls on him to yield, ' as our rarer monsters are, Painted upon a pole, and underwrit " Here you may see the tyrant " ' (Macbeth, v. 8. 25). 126 THE HOLY ALE or to patronise the church-ale. A few from time to time made their way to the chancel, so as to catch portions of the discourse, and joined in the hum of approval by which the regular listeners testified their appreciation of each tell- ing point. The majority of the congregation stood, a few only being accommodated with seats. Amongst these were the Justice, Abraham Slender and his mother, William Silence, with Squire Petre and the Lady Katherine, who had ridden over from Petre Manor for the interesting occasion. The discourse was indeed worth riding many miles to hear. The preacher chose as his text the words Being dead, yet speaketh. After a learned exordium, in the course of which he referred to Aristotle de Historid Animalium, lib. vii. cap. 9, he approached the topic of the day. The word ' monster ' he derived ' a monstrando, quia monstrantur^ as this portent is now displayed before your eyes. But I would also add ut monstrent. They are showed that they may show the special handiwork of Providence, and though peradventure dead, yet speak.' Why should not this portent be as instructive as the appearance of a comet ? ' Each comet (as experience hath taught men) is in its kind doctrinal, and blazeth forth something or other worthy our observation. Nee in vanum toties arsere cometa : seldom are those super-terrestrial blazes kindled in vain. Men do commonly count them prcenuncios belli et calamitatum, forerunners of some imminent calamities.' Then followed the practical application. At this point, however, the notes of the diarist become somewhat defective. 1 The preacher had asked Quis peccavit ? and was replying Neque hie neque 1 The learning displayed in this discourse raised doubts in my mind as to whether it was the original composition of Sir Topaz, or something in the nature of a homily, proper to be used on occasions of the kind. The latter theory is borne out by the fact that the selfsame discourse was delivered at Plymouth in the year 1635, and printed in a pamphlet entitled ' A True and Certaine Eelation of a Strange-Birth which was borne at Stonehouse in the Parish of Plimmouth on the 20th of October, 1635, together with the Notes of a Sermon preached October 23, 1635, in the Church of Plimmouth at the interring of the sayd Birth.' (Keprinted inArber's Old Book Collectors' Mis- cellany). AN UNSEEMLY INTERRUPTION 127 parentes, when he found the attention of his audience suddenly distracted. ' Have patience, good people,' he ex- claimed again and again with increasing warmth ; for he was not so meek as that ' most gentle pulpiter ' of whom Kosalind asks ; ' what tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried, " Have patience, good people " '? ' 1 His efforts were in vain, and the cause of the disturbance soon became apparent. It was due to the arrival in the church porch of a pedlar, who proceeded to advertise his wares at the top of his voice, somewhat as follows : Lawn as white as driven snow ; Cyprus black as e'er was crow ; Gloves as sweet as damask roses ; Masks for faces and for noses ; Bugle bracelet, necklace amber, Perfume for a lady's chamber ; Golden quoifs and stomachers, For my lads to give their dears. Pins and poking sticks of steel, What maids lack from head to heel : Come buy of me, come : come buy, come buy ; Buy, lads, or else your lasses cry : Come buy. 2 Wint. Tale, iv. 4. 220. The attraction was evidently great, for Sir Topaz was speedily deserted by the female portion of his congregation, and by not a few of the other sex. He soon brought his dis- course to a somewhat inglorious conclusion, in the presence of few beyond the ' ring of country gentles ' seated in the chancel. " Come home with us to dinner, Master Silence," said Petre to William, as they left the church together ; " we will discourse of Oxford days after the fashion of your 1 As You L. iii. 2. 165. 2 Some such experience, we maybe sure, prompted Bishop Grindal's injunc- tion to the laity at York : ' The churchwardens shall not suffer any pedlar, or others whatsoever, to set out any wares to sale, either in the porches of churches or in the churchyard, nor anywhere else on holy days or Sundays while any part of divine service is in doing or while any sermon is in preaching.' (1571-2.) 128 THE HOLY ALE father and Master Shallow, when they touch on Clement's Inn." " I cannot withstand the temptation of such excellent discourse," said William Silence, " and with the leave of the fair Lady Katherine, I gladly accept your proffered hos- pitality." As they left the church together, they found the pedlar the centre of an eager crowd, before whom he was displaying a broadsheet on which was printed a marvellous ballad. This was a true and certain history of the portent, in doggerel verse, illustrated with a rude woodcut, and attested by the hands of Sir Topaz and the churchwardens of the parish, Abraham Slender witnessing it as a marksman. 'Why should I carry lies abroad ? ' said the pedlar, whom we know as Autolycus. This was not the only ballad in his wallet, and Petre and his companion pause to listen for a moment as Simple and his sweetheart Mopsa, with their friend Dorcas, cheapen his wares. Simple. [Clown.] What hast here ? ballads ? Mop. Pray now, buy some : I love a ballad in print o' life, for then we are sure they are true. Fed. [Autolycus.] Here's one to a very doleful tune, how a usurer's wife was brought to bed of twenty money bags at a burden, and how she longed to eat adders' heads and toads carbonadoed. Mop. Is it true, think you ? Fed. Very true, and but a month old. Dor. Bless me from marrying a usurer ! Ped. Here's the midwife's name to 't, one Mistress Tale- porter, and five or six honest wives that were present. Why should I carry lies abroad ? Mop. Pray you now, buy it. Sim. Come on, lay it by : and let's first see moe ballads ; we'll buy the otber things anon. Ped. Here's another ballad of a fish that appeared upon the coast on Wednesday the four-score of April, forty thousand fathom above water, and sung this ballad against the hard hearts of maids : it was thought she was a woman and was turned into a cold fish, AUTOLYCUS AT HOME 129 for she would not exchange flesh with one that loved her. The ballad is very pitiful and as true. Dor. Is it true too, think you ? Fed. Five justices' hands at it, and witnesses more than my pack will hold. Sim. Lay it by too : another. Fed. This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one. Mop. Let's have some merry ones. Fed. Why, this is a passing merry one and goes to the tune of ' Two maids wooing a man ; ' there's scarce a maid westward but she sings it ; 'tis in request, I can tell you. 1 Wint. Tale, iv. 4. 262. This is the self-same roguish pedlar whom we have met in foreign parts travelling under the name of Autolycus, but who is in truth when at home in Gloucestershire none other than the elder Sly the pedlar of Burton-heath, whose son Christopher, ' by education a card-maker, by transmutation a bear-herd, and now by present profession a tinker,' was (he tells us) ' by birth a pedlar.' 2 Standing in the church porch, the pedlar is quickly surrounded by an admiring crowd. There are matrons who listen with sympathetic ears to the gruesome tales told by his well authenticated ballads and broadsides ; simple village maidens gazing with rapture on his glittering gew- gaws ; and simpler rustic swains ensnared into cheapening his wares. Well may he exclaim when his day's work is 1 Ballads and broadsides on the popular subject of monsters were numerous in the days of the diarist. No fewer than ten are included in a collection of seventy-nine black letter ballads and broadsides printed between the years 1559 and 1597 (London, J. Lilly, 1870). Autolycus may have had some of them in his pack, for one is entitled, ' The true discription of this marueilous straunge Fishe which was taken on Thursday was Sennight the xvi. day of June this present month in the yeare of our Lord God, MD. Ixix.' Some of these curious productions were evidently composed with a view to some religious function like that celebrated in Shallow Church, concluding with pious doggerel of which the following is a fair specimen : All ye that dothe beholde and see this monstrous sight so strange, Let it to you a preachyng be from synfull lyfe to chaunge For in these latter dayes trulye the Lord straunge syghts doth showe, By tokens in the heauens hye and on the yearth belowe. (Ballad 1564.) 2 Tarn, of Shrew, Ind. ii. 20. K 130 THE HOLY ALE done, and his trumpery all sold : ' Ha, ha ! what a fool Honesty is ! and Trust, his sworn brother, a very simple gentleman ! ' l The crowd made way for the Petres and Silence as they leave the church and, passing through the churchyard, reach the village green. With them let us pause for a moment and note the scene which presented itself to their eyes. The entire space between the churchyard and Abraham Slender's house was studded with booths and alive with preparations for the merry-making which was to follow the church service of the morning. Hither had flocked, as vultures to a carcass, the rogues and vagabonds of the county. In the years which preceded the establishment of a poor-law England was flooded with a mass of vagrancy and pauperism constituting a real social danger of the age. This feature of rural life will be found faithfully reflected in the mirror held up to it by Shakespeare. These are the ' vagrom men ' whom Dogberry bid the watch to comprehend, and if one would not stand, to ' take no note of him, but let him go ; and presently call the rest of the watch together, and thank God you are rid of a knave.' 2 They are the ' vagabonds, rascals and runaways . . . famish'd beggars, weary of their lives,' with whom, according to Kichard, his army had to cope. 3 These rogues and vagabonds were of certain recog- nised orders, clearly defined as the estates of the realm. The Abraham man according to Awdelay 4 ' is he that walketh bare armed, and bare legged, and fayneth hym selfe mad, and caryeth a packe of wool, or a stycke with baken on it, or such lyke toy, and nameth himself poore Tom.' And so when Edgar came on the stage in King Lear ' disguised as a madman,' and naming himself poor Tom, the audience at the Globe at once recognised a familiar figure. 1 Wint. Tale, iv. 4. 606. 2 Much Ado, ii. 3. 25. 3 Rich. III. v. 3. 316. 4 Fraternitie of Vacabondes, 1565. ROGUES AND VAGABONDS 131 Edg. Who gives anything to poor Tom ? whom the foul fiend hath led through fire and through flame, and through ford and whirlpool, o'er bog and quagmire. . . . Bless thy fine wits ! Tom's a-cold do de, do de, do de. Bless thee from whirlwinds, star- blasting and taking ! Do poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes. K. Lear, iii. 4. 51. Then there was the prygman l or prygger ; ' for to prigge signifieth in their language to steal.' 2 ' What manner of fellow was he that robbed you ? ' asked the clown of Autolycus who had just picked his pocket. Aut. A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about with troll-my dames 3 . . . having flown over many knavish professions, he settled only in rogue ; some call him Autolycus. Clo. Out upon him ! prig, for my life, prig ; he haunts wakes, fairs, and bear-baitings. Wint. Tale, iv. 3. 89. The pedlars were comparatively respectable, for Harman says of them that ' they bee not all euill, but of an indif- ferent behauiour.' In this particular they were not very unlike to him whom we have just left vending his wares in the church porch. Akin to the prigs are the ' dronken tynckers,' of whom Harman says that they ' be beastly people,' an opinion shared, I doubt not, by ' Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot,' in regard to a certain member of the fraternity of vagabonds, by birth as well as by profession ; namely, Christopher Sly, ' by present profession a tinker,' who was on his own showing ' fourteen pence on the score for sheer ale.' 4 A troublesome knave was he who was known as choplogic. According to Awdelay the choplogyke is ' he that when his mayte rebuketh him of hys fault he wyll geue hym XX wordes for one, els byd the deuils Pater noster in silence. This proude prating knave wyll maintaine his naughtines when he is rebuked for them.' ' How now, how now, chop- 1 Awdelay. 2 Harman, Caveat for Cursitors, 1567. 3 The ladies with whom these gentry consorted were known as trolls, or doxies ; ' with heigh ! the doxy over the dale,' sings Autolycus. 4 Tarn, of Shrew, Ind. 2. 21. K 2 132 THE HOLY ALE logic ! ' said Capulet to Juliet, when she would maintain her naughtiness though rebuked by her father ; ' what is this ? ' ' Proud/ and ' I thank you/ and ' I thank you not/ And yet ' not proud ; ' mistress minion, you, Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds. Rom. and Jul. iii. 5. 150. Then there is the ruffler, placed by Harman first among the vagabonds, ' because he is first in degre of this odious order, and is so called in a Statute made for the punishment of Vacabonds, in the XXVII yeare of Kyng Henry the eight, late of most famous memory.' And when Saturninus spoke reproachful words to Andronicus, he offered him a valiant son-in-law : One fit to bandy with thy lawless sons, To rufifle in the commonwealth of Eome. Tit. Andr. i. 1. 312. The rogue, properly so-called, was a vagabond of low degree, herding with the beasts of the field, and ' their end is eyther hanginge, wnich they call trininge in their language, or die miserably of some loathsome disease.' ' Mine enemy's dog/ says Cordelia, Though he had bit me, should have stood that night Against my fire ; and wast thou fain, poor father, To hovel thee with swine, and rogues forlorn, In short and musty straw ? K. Lear, iv. 7. 36. It is said by Harrison * that Henry VIII. ' did hang up threescore and twelve thousand in his time.' But in spite of hanging, starvation, misery, and diseases, the country swarmed with these ' roguing thieves/ 2 Their number is estimated by Harrison as not less than ten thousand ; and we may be certain that the rest of the fraternity, with Autolycus, were always to be found at wakes, fairs, bear- baitings, and (not least of all) on such occasions as the holy- ale at Shallow. 3 William Silence little thought as he stood with the 1 Description of England. 2 Pericles, iv. 1. 97. 8 See Note, Rogues and Vagabonds. MASTEK SLENDER'S SUIT 133 Petres on the village green, amused spectators of the humours of the church-ale, that his fate and that of Anne Squele trembled in the balance. And yet such was the fact. Master Shallow was at that moment walking with his sister Mistress Slender across the green, arranging the preliminaries of the projected marriage between Abraham Slender and Anne Squele. He had opened the matter to old Will Squele the day before at the hunting, and had found as little difficulty with him as with Master Page of Windsor when he went to him on a similar errand about a year before. It was the old story. William Silence was the younger son of a small country gentleman. He had to make his way in the world by his wits, not being (as was Hamlet's waterfly Osric) 4 spacious in the possession of dirt.' * Now the wit of man is a commodity that cannot be surveyed, walked over, and appraised by your Squeles and your Shallows, in the same manner as the soil by which the crust of the earth is now for the most part covered. No doubt Abraham Slender kept but three men and a boy ; but this was only until his mother be dead, and he could make a jointure of one hundred and fifty pounds a year. The land was there. It could be seen, and the assurances could be kept under lock and key in a strong chest. And so Will Squele's choice fell on Abraham Slender. As for Anne, she said, with her predecessor in the Justice's favour : This is my father's choice. 0, what a world of vile ill-favour'd faults Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a-year ! Merry Wives, iii. 4. 31. But let us not despair of William Silence's suit, but rather let us wish him victory over his ' foolish rival, that her father likes Only for his possessions are so huge,' 2 and let us say with mine host of the Garter : ' he will carry 't, he will carry 't ; 'tis in his buttons ; he will carry 't.' 3 1 Hamlet, v. 2. 90. - Two Gent. ii. f, 174. 3 Merry Wives, iii. 2. 70. 134 THE HOLY ALE "William Silence doth affect the wench," said Shallow to his sister ; " this much I learned from Will Squele, and it may be that she favoureth his suit. These wenches be but silly fools. The lad hath a ready wit and a high spirit, and it may be that these vanities overcloud her vision, so that she discerneth not the land. It must be remembered, good sister, that though she be a Shallow, 'tis but on her great grandmother's side ; thou didst not say yea to Abraham Slender's father for his wit or his learning, I warrant thee, good sister." " I hope I knew my duties better than so to demean myself, and yet my goodman had a pleasant and a ready wit. I've ofttimes heard thee tell the tale of how a' stole " Aye, marry, it is a good jest. It is an old jest. It is both good and old. Can there be more said ? Abraham Slender shall wed the wench. Eobert Shallow shall not be withstood in his own county of Gloucester, and by the younger son of cousin Silence, save the mark ! It was not so in Windsor. A justice of the peace should not essay to command a wife but in his own county. Master Squele and cousin Silence will have a care that I am answered in this matter. As for William Silence, I fear that much learning hath undone him." " The which can never be laid to the charge of my son, brother Robert. When a' doth speak, a's an absolute Shallow, though I say it that should not glory in my infir- mities. But in feature a' somewhat favoureth his father, which is indeed as it should be, for what's bred in the bone will come out in the face." "Well, well," said the Justice, "he's well enough. I have broken the matter to Master Will Squele. He will give his daughter three hundred pounds. Abraham can make her a jointure of one hundred and fifty. The man of law is drawing the specialties, and Sir Hugh Evans will marry them when it shall please me to fix the day." " And hast opened the matter to my son Abraham ? " "Aye, marry," said the Justice, " and he hath dealt with PETRE MANOR 135 it in a becoming fashion. He said he would marry her upon any reasonable demands. He would do a greater thing than that, upon my request, in any reason. A' meant well, ay, that a' did. Ay, I think my cousin meant well." Thus disposing of the fate of William Silence and Anne Squele, Master Eobert Shallow and his sister arrived at the home of the latter. All that remains of the old dwelling of the Slenders, long since converted into a farmhouse, may be seen standing at the further end of the village green from the ancient church. The passing stranger pauses to admire the fine old Tudor archway, now built up into the farmyard wall, through which Shallow and his sister entered the courtyard where the Petres and William Silence were mount- ing their horses to ride across the wold to dinner at Petre Manor. Taking leave courteously of old Mistress Slender and of the Justice, and bestowing a groat on Peter Simple who held his horse's head, Petre mustered his small party for their homeward ride. Following a track defined by ruts of pass- ing wagons, which would not now be dignified by the name of a road, the riders arrived at the pale enclosing the park in which Petre had expected to meet ' these rascal knaves ' his serving men, when he brought home his bride to his old-fashioned manor-house among the Cotswold Hills. There were strange doings then in Petre Manor, and the tale lost nothing by telling in the taverns and alehouses of Gloucestershire. Clement Perkes, we may be sure, had told the story to his Stratford visitor over their ale. But William Silence was a late arrival from London, and had not time to pick up the gossip of the neighbourhood. His head just now was full of other matters, and his only information on the subject was that conveyed to him by his senses ; that his old Oxford friend had wedded a lady of spirit and beauty, who made him to all appearance a most loving and charming wife. The place wore a neglected and deserted air, as of one whose master cared more for wandering abroad than for 136 THE HOLY ALE looking after domestic matters at home. Crossing the half- choked and neglected rnoat, Silence and his friends dis- mounted in a grass-grown courtyard, surrounded by the ancient and mouldering manor-house, half stonework, half timber, which had sheltered many generations of Petres. There had been indeed some improvement in the condition of the serving men who rushed out to meet their master, since it was said of them : Nathaniel's coat, sir, was not fully made, And Gabriel's pumps were all unpink'd i' the heel ; There was no link to colour Peter's hat, And Walter's dagger was not come from sheathing : There were none fine but Adam, Balph, and Gregory : The rest were ragged, old, and beggarly ; Yet, as they are, here are they come to meet you. Tarn, of Shrew, iv. 1. 135. For the orders of old Groorne (he was as much Grumio, as Petre was Petruchio) had in some sort been attended to. ' Let their heads be sleekly combed, their blue coats brushed and their garters of an indifferent knit : let them curtsy with their left legs and not presume to touch a hair of my master's horse-tail till they kiss their hands.' l As William Silence looked round the court-yard his atten- tion was diverted from the mouldering house and ancient re- tainers by the cordial and unmistakable welcome accorded to its master by another class of occupants. In one corner a badger peered cautiously from a butt or barrel which, lying on the ground, served it as an earth. In another, a fine old dog-fox of the greyhound kind rattled the chain by which he was fastened, to attract the attention of his master ; a handsome but a treacherous pet. The tale of his misdeeds in after life suggested a simile : For treason is but trusted like the fox, Who, ne'er so tame, so cherish'd and lock'd up, Will have a wild trick of his ancestors. 1 Hen. IV. v. 2. 9. 1 Tarn, of Shrew, iv. 1. 93. A CONSTANT FKIEND 137 Along one side of the court-yard ran a long low shed in which were hawks of every kind, from the proud falcon to the humble eyess-musket. They recognised the presence of their master after the fashion of the ' royal bird ' of Jupiter, the ' holy eagle,' who 'prunes l the immortal wing and cloys his beak, As when his god is pleased.' 2 A raven of glossiest plumage hopped eagerly across the pavement, and, eyeing Silence with curious glance, greeted Master Petre by directing against his jack-boots vigorous but ineffective charges of his long and sharp beak. When the door of the hall was opened by Curtis, a chorus of sporting dogs headed by Troilus the spaniel greeted their master, while 'the little dogs and all, Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart,' 3 barked joyously around their mistress. " I perceive, Master Petre," said Silence, " that you have not lost your love for the brute creation, which gave you as your companion at Oxford yonder brock that is now daring the assaults of the dog so that he may welcome your approach." " These," said Petre, " are friendships which I have laid in store against evil days. If it should be my lot to fall out with fortune, I would have around me some eyes besides thine, my bonnie Kate, into which I may look without read- ing therein the story of my decline. 4 But come, Master 1 To ' prune ' is a technical term in falconry, ' one of the kyndeli termis that belong to hawkis,' according to the Boke of St. Albans. When a hawk prunes, or picks her feathers, ' she is lyking and lusty, and whanne she bathe doone she will rowse hire myghtyly.' ' Cloys is doubtless a misprint for cleys, that is, claws. Those who have kept hawks must often have observed the habit which they have of raising one foot, and whetting the beak against it. This is the action to which Shakespeare refers ' (Harting, Ornithology of Shake- spear e). 2 Cymb. v. 4. 118. 3 K. Lear, iii. 6. 65. 4 Homer, like Shakespeare, has many bad words and few good to throw at a dog. But they both bear testimony to his fidelity and unchanging love of his master. Sir Henry Holland (Recollections of Past Life) relates that Lord Nugent (whom he calls the greatest Shakespearian scholar of his day) bet him a guinea that no passage could be found in Shakespeare commending directly or indirectly the moral qualities of the dog. Sir Henry paid, after a year's careful search this was before the days of Mrs. Cowden Clarke, Dr. Schmidt, or the monumental Lexicon, which Shakespea^rian students owe to the industry of 138 Silence, I hope Sir Topaz and the ride have bestowed on you as good an appetite as they have on me." As William Silence sat down with his host to the plain but substantial dinner set forth in the long dark oaken hall, he observed that foreign travel and experience had wrought but little change in the Petre whom he knew so well at Oxford. While he recalled his ' odd humours ' which had prompted him ofttimes to go but ' mean apparelled/ and sometimes led him into more serious adventures, he reflected on the substratum of good sense, pluck, and mother- wit which always stood him in stead. And after the Lady Katherine had withdrawn, when his heart was warmed by Petre 's generous wine he determined to act on an impulse which had been gradually gaining strength during the day, and, opening to his friend the state of affairs between him and Anne Squele, he resolved to appeal to him for advice and assistance. Although he had not the knowledge which we possess of Petre' s matrimonial views and experiences, he knew enough of his character to divine that his advice would not be hampered by the local prejudices Mr. Bartlett. It was money paid under a mistake of fact, for Timon, turned misanthrope, thus contrasted the faithfulness of the dog with the faithlessness of mankind : Tim. Who, without those means thou talkest of, didst thou ever know beloved ? Apem. Myself. Tim. I understand thee ; thou hadst some means to keep a dog. Tim. of Athens, iv. 3. 314. The useful qualities of the dog are fully recognised, ' every one According to the gift which bounteous nature Hath in him closed ' (Macbeth, iii. 1. 97), and especially the qualities which are valuable in the running hound. But the horse, not the dog, was the chosen friend and companion of Shakespeare. Scott, on the other hand, loved the dog as a friend, but traduced him as a hound hunting by scent. Scott, as we know from his early letters, had been an enthusiastic courser. But he did not possess Shakespeare's knowledge of running hounds and of their methods of pursuit when they can no longer hunt by sight but are driven to their noses. Had it been otherwise he could not have described the hounds with which Fitz-James hunted the stag (blood-hounds of black St. Hubert's breed) as baffled and unable to account for their stag, simply because he dashed down a darksome glen and was lost to hound and hunter's ken, in a sinking condition, when (as we have seen) scent becomes more and more burning. The word ' ken ' tells its own tale. The hounds were then coursing the deer. A LETTEK FROM THE LORD DEPUTY 139 and conventional views which William Silence had never regarded with respect, and towards which he now found him- self in an attitude of hopeless antagonism. Petre listened to his friend's story with evident interest. When Silence had concluded, he thought for a moment. Then, rising from his seat, and striking the table so violently that the parrot dropped from his perch in fright, he said : " If I mistake not, I can help you in this matter with some- what better than good advice. I have of late received letters from my kinsman, Sir John Perrott, now Lord Deputy of Ireland, in which he bids me tell him if I know of any young gentleman of parts, who is willing to adventure for that country but stay, I will fetch the letter itself." Opening a worm-eaten cabinet of the blackest oak, Petre pulled out a miscellaneous assortment of articles jesses for hawks, couples, leashes, capes, collars and trashes for hounds ; with tavern bills, and other such-like unconsidered trifles. " As you know of old, Master Silence, my coffers are not of the well-ordered sort, but all will come right at last nay, here is the letter ; my kinsman writes : ' And now of the happy and blessed turn the Queen's affaires have taken in this Ilande. The Irishrie, being by continual warres so wasted that scarce anie of them ' nay, this concerns the wars, but you are a man of peace ; stay, here it is : Moreover, the lande of this islande is for the most part held by no tenure of lawful origin, but by a certain lewde custom to which the barbarous inhabitants give the name of Tanistry, wherein is much that is contrary to the lawes both of God and man, and to the nature and eternall fitness of things in regard to the tenure of lande. And I am informed by those of my council who are skilled in such matters that the rightful title of the Queen Her most excellent Majestie to good store of the lande of this islande might be peaceably established by the labours of cunninge and paynful lawyers, whereby it might be purged of the unlawful usages & salvage customs by which it is now overlayd and defiled, to the dishonour of God, and the great losse of the Queen Her Majesty. Wherefore if you can send to me any younge man of 140 THE HOLY ALE gentyl birth and good repute, learned in the lawe & with special skille in the matter of tenures, escheats, and forfeiture, I will ensure him profitable employement herein, and such a degree of favour and countenance as may gain for him faire recompense in this worlde, as well as the assurance of partaking in such good workes as may tend to his eternall welfare. " Now, Master Silence, what say you to the prospect thus held out to you?" " I like it well, Master Petre, and I heartily thank you. What especially moves me is the hope thereby held out to me of being forthwith enabled to maintain a wife. For being but of late admitted to the degree of an utter barrister " " I take you," said Petre, "you have learned already to set more store on the bird in the hand than on two in the bush. But come, let us join the Lady Katherine in her bower. If I mistake not she will further your suit, and if I help you to a living, why, she may help you to a wife." When the matter was opened to Katherine, she entered into the project with all the energy of her nature. The plan of campaign was soon arranged. It was, as might have been expected from its authors, short, sharp, and decisive. There were to be no tedious long-drawn wooings, no parleyings with old Will Squele, no negotiations with Master Shallow. William Silence was to ask Anne, fair and straight, to marry him forthwith and go with him to Ireland, to seek their fortune under the patronage of the Lord Deputy bespoken on their behalf by Master Petre. The sports which had been arranged for the following days lent themselves readily to the development of the plan. On Monday, Petre flew his hawks on Cotswold, and Will Squele with his daughter Anne were to be of the company, and on the following day all had been bidden to hunt the deer with greyhound and cross-bow in the Justice's park. This hunt had been in fact designed by the Justice so that Abraham Slender might have an opportunity of advancing PLOT AND COUNTER-PLOT 141 his suit to Anne Squele in the seclusion of the stand or ambush from which they would shoot the driven deer. This much was shrewdly suspected by Silence, and he imparted his suspicions to his friend. " 'Twere rare sport," said Petre, " to upset their schemes. You know the old saw, ' there's no such sport as sport by sport o'erthrown.' l Can you prevail with John Hunt that he may put Mistress Anne in some sequestered stand of which Abraham Slender wots not, and so carry it off with the Justice that it may be believed that he did it in error? " " I know not whether I may prevail with John Hunt," said Silence, " but I know of somewhat that will." " Then," said Petre, "put money in thy purse, use it and spare not. It may be that in lieu of a buck you slay a hart. And now, my Kate, let's to the court and view the hawks. Here, take thy hood like a noble falcon as thou art. None but an eyess may weather unhooded. Come, let's to the hawks. They are of the best, though I say it that should not." 1 Love's L. L. v. 2. 153. CHAPTER X THE TAMING OF THE SHBEW I know her spirits are as coy and wild As haggards of the rock. Much Ado about Nothing. MASTER PE TEE'S hawks were, in truth, worthy of his com- mendation, and since our diarist has thought it worth while to bestow upon them a large share of his tediousness, we of the nineteenth century who cannot hope to see them in the flesh may find a few minutes spent in his company to be not altogether wasted, if we are enabled thereby to realise in some degree the favourite sport of our ancestors and to apprehend allusions which might otherwise have escaped us. "When Silence had passed with his host from the hall into the courtyard they found there an arrival. This was a young man mounted on a stout Galloway nag and bearing with him a newly taken and untrained hawk. Petre immediately recognised the stranger who had accom- panied Clement Perkes to yesterday's assembly, by whose gentle bearing and superiority to his surroundings Petre had been more strongly impressed than were the untravelled and unsophisticated natives of Gloucestershire. His errand was soon explained. Clement Perkes had captured a fine young hawk, and he begged Master Petre to accept it at his hands. It would seem that the worthy yeoman conceived himself to be under some obligation to his powerful neigh- THE HAWKS ARE VISITED 143 bour. It may be that Petre in his blunt honest way had counteracted the influence bespoken by Davy on behalf of that arrant knave, William Visor of Woncot. This, how- ever, is mere conjecture. The diary contains no notice of the suit of Visor against Perkes. I wish it were otherwise. A day would have been well spent at quarter sessions in hearing Justice Shallow give the charge, 1 and in enjoying the humours of constables and third-boroughs, as the head- boroughs were commonly called, ' third, or fourth or fifth borough ' 2 as Christopher Sly has it Dogberry, Verges, Elbow, or Dull ; all would have afforded matter for the diarist's pen. But we must take things as we find them. I only know that Petre graciously accepted Clement Perkes's gift, and courteously invited the stranger, when he had committed the hawk to the falconer's care, to accompany the party on their visit to the hawks. To such chance encounters the world owes more than it suspects. The afternoon was fine, and the hawks had been taken from the hawk-house or mews where they were confined at night and during the moulting season. 3 They stood ' weathering ' in the open courtyard, attached by long leathern thongs to upright cylindrical pieces of wood, known as blocks. Around the legs of each bird there constantly remained fastened ' jesses ' ; 4 narrow strips of soft leather, with small flat silver rings called ' varvels,' through which passed the leash or line by which the hawk was held in hand by the falconer in the field or attached to perch or block. 1 ' Common forms ' of charges to be delivered at quarter sessions, very useful to Justices lacking in knowledge or invention, are given in Lambarde's Eirenarcha, a Treatise on the Office cf Justices of Peace, already referred to, and published in 1581. Dogberry's charge to the watch was a reminiscence of what he had heard with admiration from the lips of the Justices at quarter sessions. 2 Tarn, of Shrew, Ind. i. 13. 3 Hence the expression ' mew up ' or ' mew ' in the sense of ' confine.' Tarn, of Shrew, i. 1. 87. 188 ; K. John, iv. 2. 57 ; Mids. N. Dr. i. 1. 71 ; Eich. III. i. 1. 38. 132 ; Ibid. 3. 139 ; Rom. and Jul. iii. 4. 11. 4 Othello, iii. 3. 261. 144 THE TAMING OF THE SHREW There stood ' old Joan,' her master's delight and pride. She was a true falcon, a female of the species properly called ' peregrine,' l but sometimes, by way of special honour, ' gentle ; ' a noble bird, with full dark eye, hooked and azure beak, the rich brown of her plumage on back and head contrasting with the sober colours of the plain but useful goshawk standing by her side. ' The female of all byrdes of praye and ravyne is ever more huge than the male, more ventrous, hardie, and watchful,' and the female peregrine has given her name to the gentle art of falconry, ' because,' says Turbervile, ' the falcon doth pass all other hawkes in boldness and curtesie, and is most familiar to man of all other byrdes of praye.' But those who, like Shakespeare, were careful to use terms of art aright, distinguished the ' falconer,' who pur- sued his quarry with the long-winged hawk or falcon, from the 'astringer.' The latter was so called from the goshawk or estridge (Fr. austour or autour; Lat. astur), the repre- sentative of the race of short-winged hawks. 2 For you must know that every hawk is not a falcon, although every falcon is included under the generic term of hawk. Amidst all the confused nomenclature of the older books on falconry, the distinction between the long-winged falcon and the short-winged hawk is never lost sight of. The 'falcon, towering in her pride of place,' 3 is a different 1 The ' peregrine ' falcons, though of an indigenous species, were mostly imported from abroad. Great numbers were taken at Valkenswaard in Holland, during the annual migration of birds. A description of the mode of capture will be found in Mr. Harting's Essays on Sport and Natural History. An account of last year's capture is given in the Field of December 12, 1896, from which it appears that the haggard falcon still deserves the character given her by the old writers. One of the hawks taken was a fine haggard falcon, described as having become very tame and gentle, notwithstanding her recent capture. 2 Bert, in his Treatise of Hawks and Hawking (1619), gives directions ' worthy to be had in good estimation both of the falconer and austringer,' but specially addressed to the latter ; and the Perfect booke of keeping sparkawkes and goshawkes (reprinted by Mr. Harting from a MS. of about the year 1575) is intended to correct errors of ' unskilful ostringers.' ' They be called ostringers which are the keepers of Goshawkes or Tercelles ' (Gentleman's Academic). 1 Macbeth, ii. 4. 12. THE FALCON AND THE HAWK 145 creature from Master Ford's ' fine hawk for the bush,' l with which he invited his friends to go a-birding after breakfast. The reader will be in no danger of confounding these different species after he has witnessed their performances in the company of the diarist and his friends. In the meantime, suffice it to say that the long- winged hawks such as the gerfalcon, peregrine falcon, merlin, and hobby differ not only in structure of wing and beak, but in their mode of flying and seizing their quarry, from the short-winged kinds, of which the goshawk and sparrow-hawk alone were used in falconry. The former are the true falcons, ' fine-tempered, generous birds, whose home is in the open country, and whose dashing style of flight is only adapted to wild plains and hills.' 2 They are hawks of the tower and of the lure, towering aloft in their pride of place, thence descending on their prey with a downward stoop or swoop, and finally coming to the lure. The short-winged goshawk and sparrow-hawk, on the other hand, are the true ' hawks,' as distinguished from the nobler race of ' falcons.' They are birds of the fist, flying after their prey from their master's hand and return- ing to it when the flight is over ; using it, in fact, in lieu of the bush whence in a state of nature they pursue bird or rabbit. They are ' shifty, lurching fliers, deadly enough in their own country, which is the close woodland, through which they can thread their way like a woodcock or owl, and that with extreme rapidity for a short distance.' 2 And so we can understand how the art of an astringer differed from that of a falconer as widely as the hunting of a pack of beagles from that of fox-hounds. Each had its own professors and treatises, and the stage direction in A tt's Well that Ends Well, 3 ' enter a gentle astringer,' would not have puzzled an Elizabethan sportsman as it has perplexed learned editors, who now for the most part omit this term of art, thereby missing a distinct and characteristic point. 1 Merry Wives, iii. 3. 247. 2 Falconry, Badminton Library. 3 All's Well, v. 1. 7. L 146 THE TAMING OF THE SHREW It was the fashion of our ancestors to sneer at the French as falconers. They did not regard the rigour of the game, but condescended to any quarry that came in their way ; as their descendants are accused by British sportsmen of in- cluding in their gamebags the blackbird and the lark. ' We'll e'en to it like French falconers,' said Hamlet, ' fly at any thing we see.' l But of their skill in the art of an astringer there was no doubt. When Turbervile comes to treat of the short-winged hawks he puts the opinion of his French masters in the forefront. He writes ' of the goshawke, after the opinion of William* Tardiff, a Frenchman,' and ' of the sparowhawke out of the French authors,' both being in- cluded in the ' genrall division of goshawkes, whom the Frenchmen call autour.' There was thus a special fitness in attaching to the Court of France a gentle astringer, 2 and there may have been good grounds for Helena's confidence in 1 Hamlet, ii. 2. 450. 2 The short-winged hawk, especially the goshawk, appears to have been from an early period held in high estimation by the French. For Cavendish in his Life of Wolsey (1557) describes a visit to the house of a great French noble, in the hall of which stood a hawk's perch whereon stood three or four fair gos- hawks. In England the place of honour would certainly have been occupied by peregrine falcon or tercel-gentle. According to the Boke of St. Albans, the peregrine was the hawk of an earl, the goshawk of a yeoman. We learn from Mr. Harting's Bibliotheca Accipitraria that French falconers to this day apply the term fauconnerie to flights with long-winged hawks only, giving to flights with the short-winged kinds the ' expressive and very convenient term autour- seric,' and that two treatises on Autourserie were published in Paris so lately as 1887. For ' a gentle astringer ' Stevens conjectured ' a gentle stranger,' but subsequently discovered his error, which, he says, ' should teach diffidence to those who conceive the words which they do not understand to be corruptions ; ' a lesson, alas, easily forgotten. Mr. Grant White, retaining the words of the Folio, and quoting from the Boke of St. Albans, ' they ben called Ostrigeres that keep goshawkes or tercels,' adds ' the tercel was the aristocrat among hawks ; Juliet calls Borneo " tercel-gentle." ' Mr. Hunter (Illustrations of Shakespeare), rightly conceiving that ' a word or two more than commentators have given us is necessary for the just apprehension of the kind of person intended,' supplies the want by pointing out that the astringer in question had the care of ' a species of hawk called gentles.' It is a pity to spoil so excellent a point, but an astringer had no more to do with a tercel-gentle than a M.F.H. with beagles. The tercel-gentle was the male of the peregrine ; the tercel of the goshawk. The word ' gentle ' indicates that this particular astringer was, as we should expect from his associates, a gentleman. A GENTLE ASTRINGER 147 the power of the king's astringer whom she remembered to have seen in the Court. This man may help me to his majesty's ear, If he would spend his power. All's Well, v. 1. 7. But let us return to old Joan, before whose block we left the company assembled. " I perceive," said Silence, " that your favourite falcon is hooded when she weathers, from which I conclude you hold with Master Turbervile that pains are but lost with an eyess, and that you rather labour to man and reclaim the wild 'haggard of the rock." " Aye, my Kate," said Petre, " hath he not well said ? He knoweth thee for a haggard by thy hood. Nay, frown not, Kate, for what falconer would choose an eyess if he had skill to man a haggard ? " These words, I confess, as I read them in the diary, although they awakened some slumbering recollections, con- veyed no very clear idea to my mind, and as the reader may be in the same mental condition, I willingly impart to him the knowledge which enabled me to understand allusions, the point of which would otherwise have been lost. You may train your falcon in either of two ways. You may take from the eyrie the nestling or eyess (Fr. niais)^ rearing and making it to your use from its earliest days. Or you may capture a full-grown wild hawk, after she has been taught to fare for herself by the sternest of taskmasters for man or bird, hunger : Quis expedivit psittaco suum Picasque docuit verba nostra conari ? Magister artis ingenique largitor Venter. The lessons learned in this school will not be forgotten, and the wild hawk or haggard, reclaimed and manned, has learned somewhat to which the eyess can never attain. ' Eyasses,' says Master Turbervile, 'are tedious, and do use to cry very much in their feedings, they are troublesome L 2 148 THE TAMING OF THE SHEEW and paynfull to be entered.' To the experienced falconer they seemed as useful and promising as a company of chil- dren in the eyes of an astute stage manager. ' An aery of children, little eyases, that cry out on the top of question, and are most tyrannically clapped for't,' l may be the fashion of the hour and berattle the common stages, but they afford scant hope of mature excellence. ' He that meddleth with an eyess,' says Master Bert, 'will spend his time to no purpose, except a long expectation of good will give him satisfaction.' And so, if you would have a hawk at once high-spirited, loving and tractable, you must man and train a haggard ; that is to say, a wild hawk which has lived and fared at liberty until she has moulted for the first time and has assumed her adult plumage. On this point all the masters of falconry are of one mind. ' She has been forced often to praye for herself,' says Turbervile, and so her flight and stooping are more deadly, for in her old life, if she missed her bird, she had to go supperless to bed. But though the wild falcon makes the best hawk when manned and trained, the haggard unreclaimed is the type of worthlessness and inconstancy. If I do prove her haggard, Though that her jesses were my dear heart-strings, I'ld whistle her off and let her down the wind, To prey at fortune. Othello, iii. 3. 260. The haggard falcon that has never learned constancy to her legitimate pursuit will ' check," or change the quarry at which she is flown for any magpie or crow that fortune may throw in her way. ' The peregrine seems often to strike down birds for his amusement,' says Mr. St. John, writing of the male haggard ; ' I have seen one knock down and kill two rooks who were unlucky enough to cross his flight without taking the trouble to look at them after they fell.' 2 Inconstant and profitless ever, the untrained haggard is like the random jester. Clever he may be : for 1 Hamlet, ii. 2. 354. 2 Wild Sports of the Highlands. THE HAWK WATCHED TAME 149 to do that well craves a kind of wit : He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time, And, like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye. 1 This is a practice As full of labour as a wise man's art. Twelfth N. iii. 1. 68. And many a man has built on no more solid foundation a reputation for wisdom, which a lifetime of fruitless nights has failed to destroy. It is no easy task to reclaim the 'proud disdainful haggard.' 2 ' She hath ! lived long at liberty,' says Bert, * having many things at her command, and she is therefore the harder to be brought to subjection and obedience.' You cannot begin with kindness. The wild hawk must be half starved and watched all night so as to tire her out, and tame her by hunger and sleeplessness. 3 ' You must be watched ere you be made tame, must you ? ' said Pandarus to Cressida. 4 ' My lord shall never rest,' Desdemona pro- mised : I'll watch him tame and talk him out of patience ; His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift ; I'll intermingle everything he does With Cassio's suit. Othello, iii. 3. 22. When discipline has done its work, then, but not till then, 'there cannot be too much familiarity between the man and hawke.' Then may her wild heart be tamed to regard her keeper's hand with loving apprehension. ' My inducements to carry her thus in the evening and night would make her love me as her perch, and by taking her up so early in the morning I would persuade her that there had 1 See note, Tlie Language of Falconry. 2 Tarn, of Shrew, iv. 2. 39. 3 It may be that Master Page spoke the language of falconry when he said to Falstaff, tamed and subdued, ' Nay, do not fly ; I think we have watch'd you now.' (Merry Wives, v. 5. 107.) Adonis is compared to ' a wild bird, being tamed by too much handling ' (Yen. and Ad. 560). ^ 4 Trail, and Cres. iii. 2. 45. 150 THE TAMING OF THE SHEEW beene her pearch all night.' What Bert teaches in prose Beatrice has said in poetry. Hero had said of her : I know her spirits are as coy and wild As haggards of the rock. Much Ado, iii. 1. 35. Hear her profession when manned and reclaimed : Contempt, farewell ! and maiden pride, adieu ! No glory lives behind the back of such. And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee, Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand. Ibid. 109. All the masters of falconry, ancient and modern, would bid Benedick be of good cheer. Mark their testimony; ' onely I say and so conclude,' says Bert, ' that your haggard is very loving and kinde to her keeper, after he hath brought her by his sweet and kind familiarity to understand him.' ' Moreover,' says Mr. Lascelles, ' though we cannot definitely account for this, the temper of the wild-caught hawk is, as a rule, far gentler and more amiable when once she is tamed than is that of a hawk taken from the nest.' ! To the same effect says Master Symon Latham : ' but leaving to speak any more of these kinde of scratching hawkes that I did never love should come too neere my fingers [eyesses], and to returne unto the curteous and faire conditioned haggard falcon, whose gallant disposition I know not how to extoll or praise so sufficiently as she deserves.' 2 But there will ever remain somewhat of the wild bird about your reclaimed haggard, noble and loving though she be, and I am certain that neither Benedick nor our friend whom they call Petruchio would have it otherwise. And so she must be hooded when she comes abroad on the fist or on the block, else she would bate (Fr. se battro) and flutter, with an eagerness to which the placid eyess is a stranger. The eyess may be set abroad to weather unhooded at any time of day, but a haggard should always be hooded, to prevent her 1 Falconry, Badminton Series. 2 Symon Latham, The Faulcon's Lure and Cure, 1615. THE EYESS AND THE HAGGARD 151 from ' bating ' and continually striving to be gone, whereby her training would be greatly hindered. ' Come, civil night,' says Juliet, ' Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks,' 1 thus combining pun and poetry after a fashion possible only to Shakespeare, who indeed, at times gives us pun without poetry, when visited by recollections of horse, hound, or hawk. The Constable of France, when he would belittle the Dauphin's valour, called it a hidden virtue, never seen by any but his lackey ; ' 'tis a hooded valour, and when it appears it will bate ' (abate). 2 And this was what Master Petre meant when he would say that William Silence knew the Lady Katherine for a haggard by her hood. " Come, keep on thy hood, my lady Kate," said Petre, laughing ; "be the haggard never so reclaimed, she must needs wear her hood when she weathers, else she will bate, Or if thou bate not weathering hoodless, thou wilt take a rheum, and fare worse. Nay, I did but praise thee, sweet Kate, when I called thee a haggard. God forbid that I should have wedded an eyess. In regard to all manner of creatures," he continued, " I have ever observed that they which be wildest of nature are often the easiest tamed, and when tamed, are the most loving. What can be wilder than the raven or the haggard of the rock ? Think you that a barn-door fowl with all its seeming gentleness would ever be so loving to mankind as these creatures of the wild ? My parrot loves me better than his daily food, for he is ever ready to forsake it if I but offer to stroke his head. And yet the sailor from whom I had him told me that there is no bird more wild when he liveth at liberty. The wild goose is of all wild-fowl the most fearful, and shunneth most the abode of man, and yet I have myself taken one from the nest and kept him pinioned with his sober kith and kin, marvelling much how familiar he would be with man, and how he would follow and come at my call, while his sleek, home-bred fellows heeded- me not. I have read that the 1 Bom. and Jul. iii. 2. 10. 2 Hen. V. iii. 7. 121. 152 THE TAMING OF THE SHKEW Numidian lion can requite a kindness and be loving to man, if only you approach him not at feeding time. I have heard moreover that the Arab steeds of late brought into this land, although children of the desert, are more faithful and loving to their masters than the gentler-seeming grey mare of Flanders. If you seek to have, with obedience, love and not liking only, take a wild thing and tame it." " Then," said Silence, " he did not amiss who took a shrew to wife to tame her. You know the merry conceited jest of The Shrewd Wife lapped in MoreVs Skin? " l " He might do worse than tame a shrew," said Petre, " but if he would reclaim a haggard, let him be assured that she came forth out of the eyrie of a peregrine, and let him ' avoid a puttock.' " 2 " I fear that your good man preaches as he did not practise," said Silence to the Lady Katherine politely. "Be not too assured of that, Master Silence," said the lady, smiling ; " 'tis a good falconer can tell an eyess from a haggard when he sees her manned and hooded on her master's fist." " An' your ladyship were a falcon," pursued Silence, led by ignorance and desire to please into dangerous ground, " I must needs confess that you was sometime a haggard, since it were but scant courtesy to call you an eyess. But being so fair and gentle a lady, I may not believe that you needed ever to be reclaimed from ill conditions, even though it were by so skilled and painful a falconer as Master Petre." It was not until some time afterwards that Silence understood the significance of the shout of laughter with which this carefully prepared speech of his was received by Petre ; laughter in which the Lady Katherine, although at first she seemed disposed to bite her lip and frown, heartily joined. " 'Tis an excellent conceited jest, i' faith it is," said Petre, " to tame a shrew as you would man a haggard, by the 1 Keprinted by the Shakespeare Society, 1853. 2 Cymb. i. 1. 140. HOW TO MAN THE HAGGARD 155 book of sports. Come Kate, sit down on this bench, and do you hearken, my masters. I will make known unto you the first heir of my invention perchance indeed it may be the last and you may name it The Taming of the Shrew, or The Manning of the Haggard, as you please. It may serve your turn, Master Silence, sooner than you wot of, as it has served mine." So saying, Petre drew from his pocket a bundle of manu- script notes. These were written, he explained to Silence, by the desire of Master Edmund Bert, a gentleman of Essex, who had been their fellow-student at Oxford. They had all been enthusiastic falconers, but Bert had devoted special atten- tion to training and flying the short-winged hawk, and as a 'gentle astringer' was second to none, even in France. Petre loved flying at the brook with falcon or tercel-gentle, and above all things, when occasion served, the flight at the heron with a cast of well-trained haggard falcons. When they had parted, Petre on his travels and Bert for Essex, vowing life-long friendship, it had been arranged that each should commit to writing his experiences in the practice of his favourite art, in the hope that they might sometime meet and compare notes together. Long afterwards, when Master Edmund Bert was advanced in years and in failing health, he gave to the world An Approved Treatise of Hawkes and Hawking. 1 In his preface addressed to the friendly readers, he says, ' I did never purpose to publish in common these my labours, but to have given them privately to whom they are dedicated, and to whom I stand devoted [a clear reference to Master Petre] ; but being discovered to some of my friends, and by them made knowne to many of the rest, their importunities and earnest perswasions have made mee put it to the presse.' Master Petre's notes on the art of reclaiming a haggard have been lost to mankind. They appear to have been somewhat resented by the diarist, inasmuch as Petre in- 1 London, 1619 ; reprinted with an introduction by Mr J. T. Harting. London, Quaritch, 1891. 154 THE TAMING OF THE SHREW sisted on reading them out in the disguise of a free trans- lation, and offering them to his friend as personal ex- periences which might prove useful in his future relations with Anne Squele. ' A jest's prosperity lies in the ear of him that hears it.' Curiously enough, the Lady Katherine seemed rather to enjoy what might be supposed to reflect on herself, while the effect on William Silence was altogether different. Petre's rough jokes and blunt allusions jarred on his feelings, and he half repented that he had exposed his tender feelings to this coarse handling. However, when he called to mind the practical sympathy and ready help extended to him by Petre, he reflected, Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise ; Though he be merry, yet withal he's honest. Tarn, of Shrew, iii. 2. 24. So he was content to dismiss the incident without comment as an example of the ' odd humours ' which occasionally led his friend into extravagance. Indeed the only remark of Petre's noted by him is one described as ' an excellent con- ceipted jeste.' I should have deemed it a poor pun, did I not find it reproduced in three several sonnets included in a collection comprising some of the finest poetry in the English language. " Aye, Master William, tame her as thou mayest, I warrant thee thy wife will yet have her Will." But Master Petre's practical application of the maxims of falconry has not been lost to the world through the reti- cence of the diarist. So well did the jest prosper in the ears of one who heard it, that we need not the services of the diarist to reproduce the speech. Pet. Thus have I politicly begun my reign, And 'tis my hope to end successfully. My falcon now is sharp and passing empty ; And till she stoop she must not be full-gorged, For then she never looks upon ber lure. Another way I have to man my haggard, To make her come and know her keeper's call, That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites That bate and beat and will not be obedient. THE ESTEIDGE 155 She ate no meat to-day, nor none shall eat ; Last night she slept not, nor to-night she shall not ; As with the meat, some undeserved fault I'll find about the making of the bed ; And here I'll fling the pillow, there the bolster, This way the coverlet, another way the sheets : Ay, and amid this hurly I intend That all is done in reverend care of her : And in conclusion she shall watch all night : And if she chance to nod I'll rail and brawl And with the clamour keep her still awake. This is a way to kill a wife with kindness ; And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong humour. He that knows better how to tame a shrew, Now let him speak; 'tis charity to show. 1 Tarn, of Shrew, iv. 1. 191. I cannot say to what this scene might have led, had not the Lady Katherine brought it to a close by rising from her seat and proposing to go round the hawks with Master Silence and the stranger who had brought with him the latest addition to their number. You will find in Shakespeare the names of the hawks in common use : the falcon and her tercel-gentle ; the estridge, 2 1 Mr. Lascelles (Falconry, Badminton Library) notes ten words in this pas- sage as technical terms in falconry, and adds, ' Had Petruchio been a falconer describing exactly the management of a real falcon of unruly temper, he could not have done it in more accurate language.' That the central idea of Petru- chio's method of training was thoroughly understood in the age of falconry, appears from Fletcher's sequel to the Taming of the Shrew, entitled, The Woman's Prize ; or, the Tamer Tamed. See note, The Language of Falconry. 2 Mr Douce (Illustrations of Shakespeare, 1807) was the first to point out that Shakespeare wrote of the estridge or goshawk, not of the ostrich, when he made Enobarbus say of Antony : Now he'll outstare the lightning. To be furious, Is to be frighted out of fear ; and in that mood The dove will peck the estridge ; and I see still, A diminution in our captain's brain Eestores his heart. Ant. and Cleo. iii. 13. 195. The same idea was present to the mind of Clifford when he thus taunted Bichard Duke of York : So cowards fight when they can fly no further ; So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons. 3 Hen. VI. i. 4. 40. A dove pecking an ostrich is not a lively image, and I doubt that the idea would 156 THE TAMING OF THE SHREW or goshawk, and her tercel ; and the musket. These were the names oftenest in the mouths of practical falconers, but other kinds were used for special purposes. In the Boke of St. Allans, the eagle is for an emperor, the gerfalcon for a king, the peregrine for an earl, and the merlin for a lady. The goshawk, so highly placed in the great houses of France, was in England assigned to a yeoman, the sparrow-hawk to a priest, and the musket to ' an holi water clerke.' These subtle distinctions of rank had become somewhat out of date in what our diarist regarded as the democratic age in which he lived. Master Petre aspired neither to imperial eagle nor kingly gerfalcon, nor did he possess the exotics of the race, the lanner, sacre, or Barbary falcon. The eagle was never of practical account. The great northern falcons known as ger- falcons nearly twice the size of the peregrine, were indeed incomparable in regard to flight and stoop, especially for the flight at the heron, but they were costly, hard to reclaim, and liable to disease in the damp climate of these rainy isles. The peregrines were represented not only by the falcon ever have occurred to a commentator, had he been aware that a kind of hawk in common use was known as an estridge. When Hotspur inquired of Sir Bichard Vernon as to the nimble-footed mad- cap Prince of Wales and his comrades, that daff'd the world aside and bid it pass, they were described as all furnish'd, all in arms ; All plumed like estridges that with the wind Bated, like eagles having lately bathed. 1 Hen. IV. iv. 1. 97. Thus Shakespeare wrote, and thus the Folio reads. But critics, with the ostrich still in their thoughts, could not understand the allusion, and chose to read All plumed like estridges [ostriches] that wing the wind, Bated like eagles having lately bathed. This emendation labours under the disadvantage that it reduces to nonsense what is at all events intelligible. The only objection to what Shakespeare wrote is that the feathers of a goshawk, bating and fluttering with the wind, do not afford so striking a simile as the plumes of an ostrich. But if this objection did not occur to Shakespeare we need not trouble ourselves about it. The Cambridge editors obelise the passage. But I have followed Dr. Schmidt (Shakespeare Lexicon) in accepting the text of the Folio, which is clear enough when the meaning of the technical terms of falconry is understood. HAWKS USED IN FALCONRY 157 proper, but by a cast of tercel-gentles. The males of the hawks principally used in falconry the peregrine and goshawk were called ' tiercels,' or ' tercels/ because (it is said) they are smaller than the females by one third ; the male of the nobler species the peregrine being distinguished by the addition of the word 'gentle.' There was thus a subtle tribute paid by Juliet to her lover's nobility of nature when she would call him back as a falconer lures the ' tassel-gentle.' Smallest, and of least reputation, on the other hand, was the musket or male sparrow-hawk, especially when an eyess. ' Here comes little Eobin,' says Mrs. Page, as Falstaff's tiny page enters, and is thus accosted by Mrs. Ford : ' How now, my eyas-musket ! What news with you ? ' l Between Borneo and Robin there was fixed a gulf as wide as that which parted the tercel-gentle from the eyess-musket in the estimation of the falconer. Of the long-winged hawks, besides the peregrine, the merlin and the hobby were in constant use. The former were bold, active, and tractable, and in appearance, miniature falcons. They were flown at the lesser birds, but Petre showed with pride a cast of females, which had proved them- selves capable of coping with the pigeon. The hobby, a beautiful bird and a high-flyer, was also easily tamed. It was not so bold as the merlin, and was chiefly used in the daring of larks. The lark was ' dared ' or terrified by the approach of the hobby, and thus fell an easy prey to the fowler, lying still until it found itself enclosed in his net. ' The dogs range the field to spring the fowl,' says Nicholas Cox, 2 ' and the hobbies soar over them in the air, and the silly birds, fearing a conspiracy between the hawks and the dogs to their utter destruction, dare not commit themselves to their wings, but think it safer to lie close to the ground, and so are taken in the nets.' In default of a hobby the larks were dared by other means ; by a mirror or by a piece of scarlet cloth. Thus Wolsey, with his Cardinal's scarlet, cowed the barons 1 Merry Wives, iii. 3. 21. 2 Gentleman's Recreation. 158 THE TAMING OF THE SHREW of England. ' If we live thus tamely,' says the Earl of Surrey, To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet, Farewell nobility ; let his grace go forward, And dare us with his cap like larks. Hen. VIII. iii. 2. 279. Of the short- winged kind, the goshawk, by her name of estridge, attained the honour, as we have seen, of giving its name to a distinct branch of the art of hawking. Strong, useful, and capable, though not so handsome as the falcon, from which she differed widely (as we shall see) in her mode of flight, the goshawk held an honourable place in the order of hawks. Less efficient was the tercel or male of the goshawk, and lower still the sparrow-hawk of either sex ; though in the eyes of some ' the quicke handling of them in his flying pleaseth more than the goshawke.' But as Master Bert adds : ' They may be fitly compared unto a large gelding and a smaller, the first having a large and long stroke goeth faster than he seemeth, the other that gathereth short and thick seemeth to goe much faster than he doth ; the larger shall inforce the lesser and strike thrise for the ground that he will almost at twice performe ; my opinion is he that riddeth most ground, with most ease, shall longest endure. Judge your selve the difference betweene the gos- hawke, Tarsell, and spar-hawke.' l These are the aristocracy of the race ; each had its own 1 Irish goshawks were of high repute. Derricke has some verses in their praise (Image of Ireland, 1581), and Nathaniel Cox (Gentleman's Recreation) tells us that ' there are none better than those which are bred in the North parts of Ireland, as in the province of Ulster, but more especially in the county of Tyrone.' Large tracts of Ireland now unhappily denuded of trees were in the days of falconry thickly wooded, and a happy hunting ground for the short- winged hawk. ' Tyrone among the bushes ' is a saying current in that county, and Master Ford's 'fine hawk for the bush ' may have been a native of Tyrone, of the breed so highly commended by the author of the Gentleman's Recreation. Fynes Moryson, in his Description of Ireland, says that Irish goshawks were much esteemed in England and ' sought out by many and all means to be transported thither.' King John, Mr. Harting tells us (Essays on Sport and Natural History) used to send to Ireland, amongst other places to Carrickfergus, Co. Antrim, for hawks. KITES AND BUZZARDS 159 merits, and was flown at its proper quarry. As for the canaille of the tribe raptores kites, kestrels, buzzards, hen- harriers, and such like they found no place in the hawk- house, and were regarded by the falconer as next of kin to barndoor owl, of whom a portent was recorded : A falcon towering in her pride of place, Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd. Macbeth, ii. 4. 12. These were what Turbervile calls ' base bastardly refuse hawks, which are somewhat in name, and nothing in deed.' Their names were often on the lips of the falconer, but only as terms of reproach. To 'play the kite,' or to use 'vile buzardly parts ' bespeaks a worthless hawk (according to Turbervile), and Shakespeare had a true falconer's contempt for ' kites That bate and beat and will not be obedient,' l and also for the worthless kestrel, or staniel. This hawk was sometimes trained. But it was lacking in courage, and was allotted by the old writers to the knave or servant. ' He's a coward and a coystril that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn o' the toe like a parish top,' 2 says Sir Toby Belch. ' With what wing the staniel checks at it,' 3 he exclaims, as Malvolio, with the fatuity of this ignoble hawk, catches at the sham letter laid in his way. As the eagle is the noblest, so the kite or puttock is the basest of his tribe. ' I chose an eagle/ says Imogen, ' and did avoid a puttock.' 4 And Hastings says of Clarence, sent to the Tower, while Kichard is at large : More pity that the eagle should be mew'd, While kites and buzzards prey at liberty. Etch. III. i. 1. 132. The hawks having been visited and their points dis- 1 Tarn, of Shrew, iv. 1. 198. 2 Twelfth N. i. 3. 42. Mr. Freeman (Hmv I became a Falconer) tells of early experiences with a kestrel which he mistook for a sparrowhawk. ' The kestrel disappointed me very much, for he was frightened out of his wits at a live starling, and would not always kill a sparrow.' Perhaps some such experience suggested the words ' a coward and a kestrel.' 3 Ibid. ii. 5. 124. 4 Cymb. i. 1. 139. 160 THE TAMING OF THE SHREW cussed, the company bethought them of Clement Perkes's newly-taken hawk, which had been delivered by his messenger into the falconer's hands. They passed from the court-yard to the hawk-house. This was a long covered shed where the hawks were sheltered at night. Here, too, they were set down to mew, or moult, when the season came round, from which use buildings of this kind derived their name of 'mews.' The Eoyal mews by St. Martin's Lane became the Royal stables, and the name was borrowed by humbler localities, with no clear appreciation of the original meaning or history of the word. In a room at the end of the mews the falconer was hard at work, surrounded by the implements of his art. ' Every good falconer,' says Turbervile, ' should have his imping needles at hand.' The loss of a principal feather from a falcon's wing seriously interfered with her high-flying powers. And as the falconer would have his falcon fly the highest pitch, it was part of his art to repair occasional mishaps by the process known as ' imping.' The stump of the broken feather was joined either to the separated fragment, or to a similar feather, of which the falconer was careful to have good store. This was commonly effected by inserting into the pith of both feathers a slender piece of iron, called an 'imping needle,' steeped in brine, which forthwith rusted, and incorporated both parts into a single feather. To effect this neatly was one of the triumphs of the falconer's art ; What finer feate than so to ympe a feather as in vew A man should sweare it were the olde, and not set on anew ? ! Thus would the falconer restore his hawk's injured wing, and when the statesman would redeem the broken fortunes of his country, he urged his hearers to Imp out our drooping country's broken wing, Eedeem from broking pawn the blemish'd crown, Wipe off the dust that hides our sceptre's gilt And make high majesty look like itself. Rich. II. ii. 1. 292. 1 Turbervile. IMPING AND SEELING 161 The falconer and the statesman would level up. But it is ever the desire of the envious to level down to their own standard those whom natural advantages and training have enabled to fly a higher pitch. Thus, when the tribunes Flavius and Marullus forbade that images should be decked with Caesar's trophies, and drove from the streets the crowds who assembled to rejoice in his triumph, they reasoned thus : These growing feathers pluck'd from Caesar's wing * Will make him fly an ordinary pitch, Who else would soar above the view of men And keep us all in servile tearfulness. Jul. Cces. i. 1. 77. The company found the falconer busily engaged in seeling the eyes of the new arrival. It was then the custom to close the eyes of a newly-taken hawk until she had become accus- tomed to the hood, by drawing through the eyelids a fine silken thread. Desdemona, said lago, could give out such a seeming, To seel her father's eyes up close as oak. Othello, in. 3. 210. 2 The poor bird was completely blindfolded. I am sorry to say that the company laughed merrily at her confusion as she staggered and strutted along the floor, unable to find her perch, or to save herself from destruction without her keeper's helping hand ; and as I read of the scene, I understood what Antony meant when he said : The wise gods seel our eyes ; In our own filth drop our clear judgements ; make us Adore our errors ; laugh at's, while we strut To our confusion. Ant. and Cleo. Hi. 13. 112. And yet, did the bird but know it, this seeling and these blind endeavours were but steps in the course of training which was to convert the profitless haggard into the noble falcon, reclaimed from ill conditions, and fitted for her master's use. 1 Cf. Sonnet Ixxviii. 6. 2 Cf. Otlwllo, i. 3. 270. M 162 THE TAMING OF THE SHREW The hawks having been visited, their achievements re- counted, and their points discussed, the party returned to the house. Petre courteously invited his visitors to stay for supper. But Silence must needs return to his father's house, whither some company had been bidden, and the stranger begged to be excused. So they mounted their horses and rode together homewards across the wolds. CHAPTER XI A RIDE ON COTSWOLD In Gloucestershire : These high wild hills and rough uneven ways Draw out our miles, and make them wearisome ; And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar, Making the hard way sweet and delectable. King Richard II. ' AND after some converse concerning matters of grave moment touching our several affairs (whereof more anon), we fell to speak of Cotswold and of Arden, and of the sports and pastimes which may be there enjoyed in their seasons, and so merrily homewards.' Thus the diarist begins the story of his ride across Cotswold. The convenient time for writing of graver matters seems never to have come, and what they were is left to conjecture. You may, therefore, not hold it proven that a ride home- ward with William Silence was the occasion of the resolve that robbed Stratford-on-Avon of a sporting attorney to give Shakespeare to the world. This resolve, however, must have been made at some time, and under some circumstances ; and what is more likely to have caused it than chance asso- ciation with a visitor from the great world, whose conversa- tion unfolded to the eyes of home-bred youth visions of the boundless possibilities offered by London to genius and daring ? The humours of the town ; the newsmongers and diners with good Duke Humphrey at Paul's ; the playhouse M 2 164 A RIDE ON COTS WOLD at Blackfriars ; the wit-combats in the taverns ; the bravery of fair ladies and gallants, and far-off visions of the splendid Court of great Elizabeth, appealed to his imagination. But most of all he was moved by the immediate prospect of a sufficient livelihood, and by the remoter possibility of such wealth as might enable him to walk the quiet paths at home with surer footing, partaking of the real enjoyments of life. And as years advanced, his knowledge of what he had gained, and what he had escaped, with observation of the consequences of the fateful resolve which each man must, once for all, make for himself, found expression in words. It was when Shakespeare had arrived at middle age that he wrote what Professor Dowden calls his reflective dramas. Looking back from the serene table-land of the Delectable Mountains on the way which he had trodden, he could mark where Bypath meadow led astray, and could discern certain who had taken the wrong path, wandering blindfold among the tombs, victims of Giant Despair. The selfsame thought which the tinker of Elstow, turned preacher, was impelled by the necessity of his genius to embody in action, gave the dramatist pause, and with him action for a moment gave place to teaching. For he tells us by the mouth of Cassius that ' men at some time are masters of their fates.' l That is to say, each man born into the world may expect that to him will come, sooner or later, his golden opportunity. If he seize it, he may become that for which he is best fitted by nature, be it dramatist, soldier, handicraftsman, lawyer, statesman, or divine ; for all men have not the same gifts. But if he let it slip, he has no right to expect that it will recur. It may be right that he should let it pass. But it remains true all the same that Who seeks, and will not take when once 'tis offer'd, Shall never find it more. Ant. and Cleo. ii. 7. 88. 1 Jul. Cas. i. 2. 139. A LESSON FROM SHAKESPEARE 165 It was while this thought was present to his mind that he thus taught us by the mouth of Brutus, There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune : Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries. Jul OCRS. iv. 3. 218. And as he pondered still further on such matters, he thought over the riddle of success and failure in life. heavens, what some men do; While some men leave to do ! How some men creep in skittish fortune's hall, Whiles others play the idiots in her eyes ! Troil. and Ores. iii. 3. 132. The task of rounding off the lesson of life is fitly entrusted to him who was to the Greek 7ro\vfjw)Ti,s ; a word aptly rendered by an English sportsman ' that same dog-fox Ulysses.' * He contrives that Achilles shall see himself treated by the Greeks as if he were forgotten. The ' general ' pass strangely by, and the princes lay negligent and loose re- gard on him. He cannot understand the change. He has not fallen out with fortune ; why should he have fallen out with men ? Ulysses suggests the reason. The Greeks look upon Ajax as the coming man, and they have turned to worship him. Achil. I do believe it ; for they pass'd by me As misers do by beggars, neither gave to me Good word nor look ; what, are my deeds forgot ? Ibid. 142. Then Ulysses takes up his parable, and in words so familiar that I need not quote them, explains that forgetful- ness of good deeds past is simply obedience to the laws of 1 Troil. and Cres. v. 4. 12. 166 A RIDE ON COTS WOLD nature, one touch of which makes the whole world kin, adding that beauty, wit, High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all To envious and calumniating time. This, therefore, is the conclusion of the whole matter : choose the right path and continue to walk therein, for perseverance, dear my lord, Keeps honour bright : to have done is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery. Take the instant way ; For honour travels in a strait so narrow, Where one but goes abreast : keep then the path ; For emulation hath a thousand sons That one by one pursue ; if you give way, Or hedge aside from the direct forthright, Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by And leave you hindmost. Ibid, 150. And yet Mr. Ruskin writes : ' At this time of being and speaking, among active and purposeful Englishmen I know not one who shows a trace of ever having felt a passion of Shakespeare's, or learnt a lesson from him.' l But though the diarist's notes of his homeward ride may bring us no nearer to a knowledge of what Shakespeare was, we may be helped towards a better understanding of what he wrote by a more familiar acquaintance with the scenes and occupations amidst which a great part of his life was spent. In the pursuit of this knowledge no aid is to be despised, and something may be learned from the discourse chronicled by the diarist, even though it related to no higher topics than the sporting capabilities of Stratf ord- on-Avon and Cotswold. In truth, if you would enjoy the sports of the field in their seasons, no better spot on earth need have been desired three centuries ago than the neighbourhood of Stratford-on-Avon. 1 Prceterita (1886). THE COUNTRY AROUND STRATFORD 167 There every variety of sporting country was to be found : 'frith,' or woodland; 'fell,' or open field; and 'wold,' or open, forest-like land. On one side of Avon lay the frith, or woodlands of Arden, and on the other a richly cultivated fell, or open champaign country. ' Warwickshire,' writes Camden, ' is divided into two parts, the Felden and the woodland, i.e. the Champain and woody country, severed in some sort by the river Avon, running obliquely from north-east to south- west through the middle of the county. On the south side of the Avon lies Felden, a champain country whose fertile fields of corn and verdant pastures yield a most delightful prospect from the top of Edgehill.' To one who had long dwelt between Felden and Arden, the physical characteristics of these several districts seemed to illustrate the difference between an open and a furtive disposition, and so he wrote of woman : Their smoothness, like a goodly champaign plain, Lays open all the little worms that creep ; In men, as in a rough-grown grove, remain Cave-keeping evils that obscurely sleep : Through crystal walls each little mote will peep : Though men can cover crimes with bold stern looks, Poor women's faces are their own faults' books. Lucrece, 1247. Let us then, with Camden, take a view of the woodland which (he tells us) lay north of the Avon, occupying a larger extent, being for the most part covered with woods, though not without pastures, cornfields, and iron-mines. Arden was in Shakespeare's time a district throughout which were scat- tered survivals of the primeval forest which once clothed the English midlands. The Britons retreating before the advancing Saxon found shelter in its fastnesses, and the names by which the physical features of the country are still known bear witness to their presence. In their tongue, the river which separated their retreat from the open country is Avon, and the forest fastness is Arden. The forest of Ardennes owes its name to a kindred word in the language 168 A RIDE *ON COTS WOLD of the Gaulish Celt. The British woodland gave its name to a family of gentle birth, of which some branches were rich and powerful, while others approached in condition to the yeomen, with whom they intermarried ; for the wife of John Shakespeare of Stratford was Mary Arden, daughter of Eobert Arden of Wilmecote. Arden was never a forest in the legal sense of the term. Nor was it in the sixteenth century a tract of continuous woodland. Towns and villages had come into existence, whose names still tell the tale of their woodland origin : Henley in Arden ; Hampton in Arden ; Weston in Arden. Towards Stratford the country had been generally cleared. Leland, who travelled from Warwick to Stratford about the year 1533, describes the country through which he passed as for the most part under cultivation. Had he held a northward course, he would have emerged from Arden only to reach the open moorland which is now the Black Country, and guiding his course by the fires of the iron-workers, he would have come upon a town not long afterwards described as ' Bremicham, swarming with inhabitants, and echoing with the noise of anvils.' l It is a pleasing illusion to imagine that Shakespeare chose as the scene of his most poetical comedy the woodlands of his native Warwickshire, linked with the memories of his early youth, and associated with his mother's name. It is an illusion, for we know that the scene and plot of As You Like It were borrowed from Thomas Lodge's novel Rosalynd published in 1590, the Arden of which is the Luxemburg Ardennes. Shakespeare's Arden is peopled with inhabitants of English birth. But the fact that William and Audrey are of Warwickshire does not prove that they inhabit an English forest; for was not Anthony Dull, constable, of Navarre; Autolycus of Bohemia; Dogberry of Messina and Nicholas Bottom of Greece ? But it really matters little whether Shakespeare thought of the Warwickshire Arden when by the alchemy of his 1 Camden's Britannia. THE FOREST OF AKDEN 169 mighty genius he transmuted into an immortal drama Lodge's perishable tale ; pretty and full of quaint conceits, but writ in water, and only remembered, or worth remem- bering, as the quarry of Pentelicus is regarded because of the glory of the Parthenon. Shakespeare did unto Lodge's Arden as he would have done unto the desert of Sahara if the exiles of the novel had happened to wander thither ; he filled it with the creatures of his native midlands. Michael Drayton, a Warwickshire man, takes Arden as the subject of the thirteenth song of his Polyolbion. This song our shire of Warwick sounds, Eevives old Arden's ancient bounds. Through many shapes the Muse here roves, Now sporting in these shady groves The tunes of birds oft stays to hear, Then finding herds of lusty deer, She huntress-like the hart pursues. To his imagination, Arden, though fallen from the ancient greatness of ' her one hand touching Trent, the other Severn's side,' was still a vast region of dim mysterious woodland, the haunt of song-birds of every note, and of both sorts of seasoned deer, Here walk the stately red, the freckled fallow there. And so Drayton lays the scene of his stag-hunt in this wood- land district. ' To express that wondrous sport ... to our old Arden here most fitly it belongs.' In its groves Hunt's up, to the morn the feathered sylvans sing . . . The mirthful quires with their clear open throats Unto the joyful morn so strain their warbling notes That hills and valleys ring, and even the echoing air Seems all composed of sounds about them everywhere. Such was the country around Stratford, a region like to that with which Lear endowed Goneril, With shadowy forests and with champains rich'd : With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads. K Lear, i. 1. 65. 170 A RIDE ON COTS WOLD The river afforded quarry for the falconer, who loved ' flying at the brook,' at The duck and mallard first, the falconer's only sport (Of river flights the chief, so that all other sort They only green fowl term). 1 It supplied also fish for the angler coarse fish for the most part, the pursuit of which was not likely to inspire that love of the subtler mysteries of the gentle art, of which no trace can be found in Shakespeare. For strict observance of truth, the constant feature of these pages, compels an admission. I find in the diary little mention of the angler's art, and that little of a disappointing kind ; such senti- ments, for example, as one that was long afterwards put into the mouth of Ursula, when she would catch Beatrice with a feigned story of Benedick's devotion : The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden oars the silver stream, And greedily devour the treacherous bait ; So angle we for Beatrice. Much Ado, iii. 1. 26. I wish it were otherwise, but I cannot say that I am surprised. In those dark pre-Waltonian ages the ordinary experiences of the angler included neither the mystery of trout-fishing with fly, nor the heart-stirring rush of the salmon in the pool, that crowded hour of glorious life com- pensating in enjoyment for an age without a rise. Wipe away from the table of the angler's memory all experiences with salmon and trout, and what remains? Boyish recollections of the gregarious ' fool gudgeon ' swarm- ing around worm on crooked pin, rushing in shoals on their destruction apt image of the ' opinion ' of the crowd, mostly fools, caught by the ' melancholy bait ' of assumed gravity. 2 In riper years, having attained an age when ' no fisher but the ungrown fry forbears,' 3 he marks how the ' carp of truth ' may be taken by ' bait of falsehood,' 4 and ' if the young dace be bait for the old pike ' he sees ' no reason 1 Polyolbion. * Merch. of Yen. i. 1. 101. 3 Yen. and Ad. 526. 4 Hamlet, ii. 1. 63. THE COTS WOLD GAMES 171 in the law of nature ' l why he should not catch him, any more than why the pike should not snap at his natural prey. But all this is poor sport at best, and I am not surprised to find that it engaged but a small share of the thoughts of the diarist and his companion. 2 Such were the resources of the country by which Stratford was immediately surrounded. But at no great distance were the vast wolds, stretching from the border of Warwickshire to the south-western extremity of Gloucester- shire, then, as now, known as Cotswold. So famed was this district for sports of various kinds, that a Cotswold country became a common expression of the day. ' The best soyl,' says Burton a Leicestershire man 'commonly yields the worst ayr ; a dry sandy plat is fittest to build upon, and such as is rather hilly than plain, full of downes, a Cotswold country, as being most commodious for hawking hunting wood waters and all manner of pleasures.' Cots- wold ; its sports and pastimes ; its Whitsun week games, at which sturdy shepherds contended for the mastery before the assembled ' ring of country gentiles ' 3 in leaping, throwing the bar, running at quintain, and other manly exercises, were household words among the Warwick folk dwelling near the Gloucestershire border. The ancient Cotswold games seem to have declined somewhat, and to have been revived by one Robert Dover, an attorney of Barton-on-the-heath in Warwickshire, to whom were addressed a number of odes by Ben Jonson, Drayton, and other poets of the day, which were collected and published in 1636, under the title of Annalia Dubrensia. The programme comprised field sports as well as athletic exercises. The swallow-footed greyhound hath the prize, A silver studded collar. Dover is celebrated in this volume as the restorer, not the founder of these games, and we may be sure that the per- 1 2 Hen. IV. iii. 2. 355 2 See Note, SliaTtespeare and Angling. 3 Annalia Dubrensia. Of Dover it is recorded in this volume, ' He was bred an attorney, who never try'd but two causes, always made up the difference.' 172 A RIDE ON COTS WOLD formances of their greyhounds on Cotswold supplied a fre- quent topic of conversation to the burgesses of Stratford in the days of Shakespeare's youth. And even if the diary were silent on the subject, we should have been certain that this topic must have been suggested by a ride across Cotswold. For Cotswold was then to coursing what Newmarket is to horse-racing, and St. Andrews to golf; the recognised home and centre of the sport. Abraham Slender knew by heart the performance of every dog that had ever con- tended for the silver collar at the Cotswold games, a know- ledge which he at times let appear when there was no need of such vanity. For we all remember how it was needful for Master Shallow, when he would pay court to Master Page of Windsor, to smooth his feathers which had been somewhat ruffled by an unhappy suggestion of Slender's. Slen. How does your fallow greyhound, sir ? I heard say he was outrun on Cotsall. Page. It could not be judged, sir. Slen. You'll not confess, you'll not confess. Shal. That he will not. 'Tis your fault, 'tis your fault, 'tis a good dog. Page. A cur, sir. Shal. Sir, he's a good dog, and a fair dog ; can there be more said? He is good and fair. Merry Wives, i. 1. 91. Eagerly did the riders discuss the incidents and humours of the sport. First comes the hare-finder, most venerable of institutions. For Arrian, writing some fourteen centuries before our diarist, tells us that in his day it was the custom to send out hare-finders (rovs KaToirrevcrovras) early in the mornings of coursing days. 1 To detect a hare in brown fallow or russet bracken needs sharp and practised eyes. And so it was as good a jest for Benedick to say of the blind god of love that ' Cupid is a good hare-finder,' 2 as to call Vulcan ' a rare carpenter.' 1 The Cynegeticus of Arrian (sometimes called the younger Xenophon) was intended to supplement the work of his master, by treating of the sport of coursing with greyhounds. 2 Much Ado, i. 1. 186. COURSING WITH GREYHOUNDS 173 " As soone as he espieth her, he must cry So how." Thus writes the author of the Noble Arte of the hare-finder. And so when Mercutio cried ' So ho/ Borneo, recognising the familiar hunting language, asks ' What hast thou found ? ' Her. No hare, sir, unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie, that is somewhat stale and hoar ere it be spent. (Sings.) An old hare hoar, And an old hare hoar, Is very good meat in lent ; But a hare that is hoar Is too much for a score, When it hoars ere it be spent:' ! Bom. and Jul. ii. 4. 136. The greyhound, fawning upon his master, is an image familiar of old : vTroTrnj^aaa \nrapsl Arrian writes : ' What a canny deal of courtesy,' says Hotspur of Henry Bolingbroke, ' This fawning greyhound then did proffer me.' 2 Caius Marcius describes Titus Lartius as Holding Corioli in the name of Eome, Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash, To let him slip at will. Coriol. i. 6. 37. A livelier image is suggested by the chorus in the pro- logue to Henry V., picturing the ' swelling scene ' when should the warlike Harry, like himself, Assume the port of Mars ; and at his heels, Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword and fire Crouch for employment. But as the sport advances, fawning gives place to excite- ment, and the careful slipper must beware lest he spoil sport by too much eagerness ; like Harry Hotspur, to whom Northumberland thus complained : ' Before the game is afoot, thou still let'st slip.' 3 He must keep back his hound, well knowing that by so doing he whets rather than disedges his 1 These lines are fairly described by Dr. Johnson as a ' series of quibbles unworthy of explanation, which he who does not understand, needs not lament his ignorance.' A hare is still called a bawd in some parts of Scotland (Jamie- son's Scottish Dictionary). 2 1 Hen. IV. i. 3. 251. 3 1 Hen. IV. i. 3. 278. 174 A RIDE ON COTS WOLD appetite for the chase. ' I am sorry but not afeard ; delayed but not altered,' said Florizel, when thwarted and opposed in his love for Perdita : what I was, I am ; More straining on for plucking back, not following My leash unwillingly. Wint. Tale, iv. 4. 475. When the game's afoot, though not before, you may cry havoc, and unslip the dogs of war. ' There is none of you so mean and base,' said King Harry to his yeomen soldiers before the breach at Harfleur, That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. Hen. V. iii. 1. 30. ' The game's afoot,' he adds, ( follow your spirit.' When this word has been given, you may enjoy the humours of the course, and admire the speed and dexterity of your greyhound, ' which runs himself and catches for his master.' 1 Thus spoke Tranio, when he complained that Lucentio slipped him like his greyhound, and used him for his own ends, and his words were commended as ' a good swift simile, but something currish.' 2 And if you chance to witness the kill, you may call to mind Benedick's commendation of Margaret's jest, ' Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth ; it catches.' 3 'It could not be judged,' according to Master Page, whether or not his fallow greyhound was ' outrun on Cotsall.' How this came to pass you may learn from a study of the laws of the leash, or coursing, as they were com- manded, allowed, and subscribed by Thomas Duke of Norfolk in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. There we read of the judge of the leash, who, in Drayton's words, Euns his horse with fixed eyes, and notes Which dog first turns the hare, which first the other coats. 4 In these laws it is prescribed that the judges shall give their 1 Tarn, of Shrew, v. 2. 52. 2 See also 3 Hen. VI. ii. 5, 129. 3 Much Ado, v. 2. 11. " Polyolbion. THE LAWS OF THE LEASH 175 judgments presently before they depart from t he field ; but if the course be equal, and the hare be not borne, then the course must be adjudged equal. Thus it was that Master Page's fallow greyhound, although not outrun on Cotsall, failed to win the course. The comparative merits of the dogs, then as now, were determined by a variety of performances, or points of the course, such as the turn, go by, wrench, cote, and the bearing, or taking of the hare. Those who are interested in this ancient sport (among whom I cannot be included), and who desire to compare these laws with the rules of the National Coursing Club, will find both codes printed in Mr. Harding Cox's contribution to the Badminton Library. They will note the disappearance from the modern rules of a term denot- ing one of the most important points of the course according to ancient authorities ; that, namely, which was known as the cote. This was when a greyhound turned the hare, having first outstripped, or coted, his competitor ; ' we coted them on the way, and hither they are coming,' l said Eosencrantz of the players, using a term of art, perfectly intelligible to Hamlet, but which has been generally interpreted as meaning ' to overtake.' It is plain, however, from Eosencrantz's words ' hither they are coming,' that he had not only overtaken, but outstripped, or ' coted them on the way.' ' On Cotswoldian ground,' sings Master William Denny. 2 The swallow footed greyhound hath the prize A silver studded coller ; who outflies The rest in lightnings speed, who first comes by His strayning copes-mate, with celerity Turns his affrighted game, then coates againe His forward Eivall on the senselesse plaine And after Laborinthian turnes surprise The game, whilst he doth pant her obsequies. 1 Hamlet, ii. 2. 330. * Annalia Dubrensia. The folio of 1623 reads (Love's Labour's Lost, iv. 3. 87) : ' Her amber hair for foul hath amber coted.' The last word is now usually spelt ' quoted,' and probably rightly ; for although amber hair might well be said to outstrip or excel amber, yet it is not easy with this interpretation to assign any intelligible meaning to the words ' for foul.' 176 A RIDE ON COTS WOLD If I am compelled to admit that Shakespeare preferred coursing to angling, the balance is in some degree redressed by his love for the hunting of the hare with running hounds. It is easy to understand why, in common with the sportsmen of his age, he preferred the pursuit of the hare to that of the fox. For fox-hunting, as we now understand it, did not exist in his day. There was then no systematic keeping of country, or stopping of earths. Coverts were left entirely to nature. If cubs were hunted, it was merely for the purpose of exterminating vermin. The ordinary kennel of running hounds, uncoupled at every chase, was master of none ; and even the best of the breed, if reserved exclusively for fox-hunting, would have been wanting in the speed and drive needful to enable them to account for a straight-necked fox in Meath or Leicestershire. The riders would have fared even worse, for the modern hunter is still further in advance of the hunting and hawking nag of our ancestors. The author of Noble Arte writes of the chase of the ' foxe and badgerd and such like vermine.' But he says of the fox, ' I account small pastime of hunting them, especially within the ground.' There was, in truth, but little sport in bolting the fox with terriers from earth to earth, and destroying the vermin anyhow, somewhat after the fashion of the Scottish fox-hunter, described by Scott in Guy Mannering, and by Mr. St. John in his charming Wild Sports of the Highlands. But there may be discerned in the works of Shakespeare the germs of modern fox-hunting. Adonis is advised by Venus, in lieu of hunting the savage and dangerous boar, to uncouple at the hare, roe, or ' the fox which lives by subtlety ; ' Pursue these fearful creatures o'er the downs, And on thy well-breath'd horse keep with thy hounds. Yen. and Ad. 677. This was the chase of the fox above ground or in the open, for which you may find directions in the Noble Arte, and A TUDOR FOX-HUNT 177 in other books of sport of the Elizabethan age. When you have marked a fox to ground and stopped the neighbouring earths or 'kennels,' you may uncouple your running hounds, unkennel your fox, and say with the lord in All's Well, 1 1 We'll make you some sport with the fox ere we case him.' 2 Master Ford understood hunting as well as birding. When he had, as he thought, safely marked to ground that old dog-fox, Jack Falstaff, he thus addressed the company assembled at the earth : Here, here, here be my keys ; ascend my chambers ; search, seek, find out ; I'll warrant we'll unkennel the fox. Let me stop this way first. [Locking the door.] So, now uncape. 3 Merry Wives, iii. 3. 172. 1 iii. 6. 110. 2 The fox's skin was, in hunting language, his case. ' them dissembling cub ! ' says the Duke to Viola, what wilt thou be When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case ? Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow, That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow ? Twelfth N. v. 1. 167. This meaning of the word ' case ' was present to the framer of the following pun : ' Though my case be a pitiful one, I hope I shall not be flayed out of it ' (Wint. Tale, iv. 4. 844). 3 The Bight Hon. John Monck Mason was an Irish sportsman as well as a Shakespearian critic, and his early experiences in county Galway stood him in stead when seeking for the poet's meaning in the sports of the field. He de- tected the absurdity of explanation given by Warburton and Stevens of the word ' uncape ' as signifying the letting out of a bagged fox. ' Ford,' he writes, ' like a good sportsman, first stops the earths and then uncouples the hounds.' It is not necessary, however, to read with him 'uncouple' for 'uncape.' Professor Baynes, in an article in the Edinburgh Review (Oct. 1872 ; reprinted with other essays, 1894), points out that ' though no example of its technical use has yet been found, there can be little doubt that " uncape " was a sporting term locally or colloquially employed instead of " uncouple." ' He then pro- ceeds to show that the word ' cape ' had in Shakespeare's day the meaning of a narrow band encircling the neck, and that it might fairly be used as a synonym for what was in the case of a greyhound called his collar, and in the case of a running hound his couple. In Tarn, of Shrew, iv. 3. 140, the ' small compassed cape ' attached to Katherine's ' loose-bodied gown ' was a small circular collar around her throat. In support of Professor Baynes's suggestion that various kinds of collars, couples, or capes for hounds were certainly in use, I may add that in an inventory of furniture in the palace of King Henry VIII. (reprinted in the Retrospective Review, 1827) we find with ' hawkes whoddes embraw- N 178 A RIDE ON COTS WOLD But although some sport might thus be had with the fox ere you case him, the final cause of fox-hunting was the destruction of noxious vermin. No word is too bad for ' the fox that lives by subtlety.' He is ' a crafty murderer,' l and ' subtle as the fox for prey ' 2 is the miscreant who may be likened to the ' fox in stealth.' 3 This custom of giving the fox a bad name survived among sportsmen to the days of Somerville and Beckford, in poetry as well as in prose. For in the classic pages of The Chase the fox is denounced as the wily fox, the felon vile, the conscious villain, and the subtle pilfering fox. And even in the early years of the present century, there were districts where the church bell was rung when a fox had been marked to ground, to summon ' every man who possessed a pick-axe, a gun or a terrier to hasten to the sport and lend a hand in destroying the noxious animal.' 4 No law was given to a fox. ' Do not stand on quillets how to slay him,' says Suffolk of Duke Humphrey of Gloucester whose appointment as protector to the king he had compared to making the fox surveyor of the fold, Who being accused a crafty murderer, His guilt should be but idly posted over, Because his purpose is not executed. No ; let him die, in that he is a fox, By nature proved an enemy to the flock, Before his chaps be stain'd with crimson blood, As Humphrey, proved by reasons, to my liege. And do not stand on quillets how to slay him : Be it by gins, by snares, by subtlety, Sleeping or waking, 'tis no matter how, So he be dead. 2 Hen. VI. iii. 1. 254. 'It was true we give laws to hares and deer, because dered, hawkes belles, Irishe arrowes,' and other sporting appliances, ' Itm, Ixv lyams and collors of dyvers sortes.' Furthermore, it appears from the word ' copesmate,' in the lines of William Denny, quoted at p. 175, that the collar of the greyhound was sometimes called his cope, or cape ; a term which would appear to be equally applicable to the couple of the running hound. 1 2 Hen. VI. iii. 1. 254. 2 Cymb. iii. 3. 40. * K. Lear, iii. 4. 96. 4 Memoir of the Rev. John Russell. THE SLAUGHTER OF THE FOX 179 they are beasts of chace, but it was never accounted either cruelty or foul play to knock foxes or wolves on the head as they can be found, because they are beasts of prey.' Thus Oliver Saint John met the plea of law put forward on behalf of Strafford. ' This illustration would be by no means a happy one, if addressed to country gentlemen of our time ; but in Saint John's day there were not seldom great massacres of foxes, to which the peasantry thronged with all the dogs that could be mustered ; traps were set ; nets were spread, no quarter was given, and to shoot a female with cub was considered as a feat which merited the warmest gratitude of the neighbourhood.' l Some such massacre Lear had in his mind when, clasping Cordelia in his arms, he exclaimed : He that parts us shall bring a brand from heaven, And fire us hence like foxes. K. Lear, v. 3. 22. Far different was the language used in regard to the hare. ' He is the mervellest beest that is in any londe,' wrote Dame Juliana Barnes a sentiment which she thus expands : That beest kyng shall be calde of all Venery For all the fayre spekyng and blawing lest fere Commyth of sechyng and fyndyng of the hare. ' Of all chases,' says the author of the Noble Arte, ' the hare makes the greatest pastime and pleasure ; ' and Gervase Markham declares 2 that ' the hunting of the hare is every honest man 'sand good man's chase,' ranking far above the hunting of the fox or badger, which are ' not so much desired as the rest, because there is not so much art and cunning.' The days spent by the diarist under his father's roof were occupied with other pursuits than the chase of the hare. I cannot, therefore, say for certain that the Justice kept, in addition to his kennel of running hounds suitable for every chase, a pack of beagles devoted exclusively to the hunting of the hare. I know, however, that they were in high 1 Macaulay, History of England, * Country Contentments. N 2 180 A RIDE ON COTS WOLD favour with Gloucestershire sportsmen. The sordid pot- hunter, when he uncouples at his game, may care only to ' score their backs, And snatch 'em up, as we take hares, behind.' l But the true sportsman took delight in the music of a pack composed of ' the little beagle which may be carried in a man's glove, and bred in many countries for delight onely, being of curious scents, and passing cunning in their hunting ; for the most part tyring (but seldom killing) the prey except at some strange advantage.' 2 Thus when Sir Toby Belch said of Maria, ' she is a beagle true-bred,' 3 he meant to compliment her keenness and sagacity. The performances of such a pack divided with Master Page's fallow greyhound the attention of the Gloucester- shire folk assembled at the Cotswold games, where greyhound is for coller tride More than for death of harmelesse Hare And kennells pack't, that how they cry'd Not what they kill'd, men may declare For hunters most heroyick are they That seeke the prise and shun the prey. 4 But we have in truth lost little by the diarist's omission to chronicle the incidents of the chase of the hare. For this pastime, as it is at present pursued, approaches more closely to the use of our forefathers than any other field sport of the present day. It has, indeed, suffered but little change since the days of Xenophon. I have known a master of harriers, of rare skill, listen with respect to the precepts and observations on hare-hunting contained in the Noble Arte ; but I should 1 Ant. and Cleo. iv. 7. 12. 2 Gervase Markham, Country Contentments. s Twelfth N. ii. 3. 195. 4 Poem by William Basse on the Cotswold games (Annalia Dubrensia). His motto Dulcia s^mt qua rarius eveniunt solatia has been well rendered by a frequenter of the games, with a lively recollection of his annual holiday on Cotsall : If all the year were playing holidays, To sport would be as tedious as to work ; But when they seldom come, they wish'd for come, And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. 1 Hen. IV. i. 2. 228. THE HUNTING OF THE HARE 181 not like to try the experiment of reading to an enthusiastic fox-hunter the opinions of the author in regard to the fox. Moreover, I am quite certain that all that could be said by the diarist or by his companion in regard to the hare-hunt is to be found in a poem entitled Venus and Adonis, published in the year 1592, the ' first heir ' of the author's ' invention,' and written, in all probability, about the time of the ride on Cotswold. And when thou hast on foot the purblind hare, Mark the poor wretch, to overshoot his troubles How he outruns the wind and with what care He cranks and crosses with a thousand doubles : l The many musets through the which he goes Are like a labyrinth to amaze his foes. Sometime he runs among a flock of sheep, To make the cunning hounds mistake their smell, And sometime where earth-delving conies keep, To stop the loud pursuers in their yell, And sometime sorteth with a herd of deer : Danger deviseth shifts ; wit waits on fear : For there his smell with others being mingled, The hot scent- snuffing hounds are driven to doubt, Ceasing their clamourous cry till they have singled With much ado the cold fault cleanly out ; Then do they spend their mouths : Echo replies, As if another chase were in the skies. By this, poor Wat, far off upon a hill, Stands on his hinder legs with listening ear, To hearken if his foes pursue him still ; 2 Anon their loud alarums he doth hear ; And now his grief may be compared well To one sore sick that hears the passing-bell. 1 Cf. 2 Hen. VI. ii. 3. 94. 2 These lines read like a poetical version of Xenophon's words : irpo\afj.- PdvovTfs 5e TKS KVVO.S ^(plffravrai KOI ava.Ka.8iovTfS tTratpovcriv avroiis Kal ira,K6vovos r