Page images
PDF
EPUB

626 CHANGE UNPROPITIQUS TO REPOSE OF SCIENCE AND STUDY.

These, indeed, were the classics of a reforming bishop: but the wellmeaning prelate would have contributed much more to the success of his intended reformation, by directing books of better taste and less piety. That classical literature, and the public institution of youth, were now in the lowest state, we may collect from a provision in archbishop Parker's foundation of three scholarships at Cambridge, in the year 1567. He orders that the scholars, who are appointed to be elected from three of the most considerable schools in Kent and Norfolk, shall be 'the best and aptest schollers, well instructed in the grammar, and, if it 'may be, such as can make a verse1. The maids of honour indulged their ideas of sentimental affection in the sublime contemplations of Plato's Phaedo: and the queen, who understood Greek better than the canons of Windsor, and was certainly a much greater pedant than her successor James I., translated Isocrates2. But this passion for the Greek language soon ended where it began: nor do we find that it improved the national taste, or influenced the writings, of the age of Elizabeth.

All changes of rooted establishments, especially of a national religion, are attended with shocks and convulsions, unpropitious to the repose of science and study. But these unadvoidable inconveniences last not long. When the liberal genius of protestantism had perfected its work, and the first fanaticisms of well-meaning but misguided zealots had subsided, every species of useful and elegant knowledge recovered its strength, and arose with new vigour. Acquisitions, whether in theology or humanity, were no longer exclusively confined to the clergy: the laity eagerly embraced those pursuits from which they had long been unjustly restrained: and, soon after the reign of Elizabeth, men attained that state of general improvement, and filled those situa tions with respect to literature and life, in which they have ever since persevered.

But it remains to bring home, and to apply, this change in the sentiments of mankind, to our main subject. The customs, institutions, traditions, and religion, of the middle ages, were favorable to poetry. Their pageants, processions, spectacles, and ceremonies, were friendly to imagery, to personification and allegory. Ignorance and superstition, so opposite to the real interests of human society, are the parents of imagination. The very devotion of the Gothic times was romantic. The catholic worship, besides that its numerous exterior appendages were of a picturesque and even of a poetical nature, disposed the mind to a state of deception, and encouraged, or rather authorised, every species of credulity: its visions, miracles, and legends, propa

1 Wlomefield's 'Norfolk,' ii. 224.

2 Ascham's 'Scholemaster,' p. 19. b. edit. 1589: EPISTOL. lib. i. p. 19. ut supr.

gated à general propensity to the Marvellous, and strengthened the belief of spectres, demons, witches, and incantations. These illusions were heightened by churches of a wonderful mechanism, and constructed on such principles of inexplicable architecture as had a tendency to impress the soul with every false sensation of religious fear. The savage pomp and the capricious heroism of the baronial manners were replete with incident, adventure, and enterprise: and the intractable genius of the feudal policy, held forth those irregularities of conduct, discordancies of interest, and dissimilarities of situation, that framed rich materials for the minstrel-muse. The tacit compact of fashion, which promotes civility by diffusing habits of uniformity, and therefore destroys peculiarities of character and situation, had not yet operated upon life: nor had domestic convenience abolished unwieldy magnificence. Literature, and a better sense of things, not only banished these barbarities, but superseded the mode of composition which was formed upon them. Romantic poetry gave way to the force of reason and inquiry; as its own enchanted palaces and gardens instantaneously vanished, when the christian champion displayed the shield of truth, and baffled the charm of the necromancer. The study of the classics, together with a colder magic and a tamer mythology, introduced method into composition: and the universal ambition of rivalling those new patterns of excellence, the faultless models of Greece and Rome, produced that bane of invention, IMITATION. Erudition was made to act upon genius. Fancy was weakened by reflection and philosophy. The fashion of treating every thing scientifically, applied speculation and theory to the arts of writing. Judgment was advanced above imagination, and rules of criticism were established. The brave eccentricities of original genius, and the daring hardiness of native thought, were intimidated by metaphysical sentiments of perfection and refinement. Setting aside the consideration of the more solid advantages, which are obvious, and are not the distinct object of our contemplation at present, the lover of true poetry will ask, what have we gained by this revolution? It may be answered, much good sense, good taste, and good criticism. But, in the mean time, we have lost a set of manners, and a system of machinery, more suitable to the purposes of poetry, than those which have been adopted in their place. We have parted with extravagancies that are above propriety, with incredibilities that are more acceptable than truth, and with fictions that are more valuable than reality.

628 INFLUENCE OF FRANCIS I. AND HENRY VIII. ON LETTERS.

SECTION XXXV I I.

OUR communications and intercourse with Italy, which began to prevail about the beginning of the sixteenth century, not only introduced the studies of classical literature into England, but gave a new turn to our vernacular poetry. At this period, Petrarch still continued the most favorite poet of the Italians; and had established a manner, which was universally adopted and imitated by his ingenious countrymen. In the mean time, the courts both of France and England were distinguished for their elegance, Francis I. had changed the state of letters in France, by mixing gallantry with learning, and by admitting the ladies to his court in company with the ecclesiastics. His carousals were celebrated with a brilliancy and a festivity unknown to the ceremonious shows of former princes. Henry VIII. vied with Francis in these gaieties. His ambition, which could not bear a rival even in diversions, was seconded by liberality of disposition and a love of ostentation. For Henry, with many boisterous qualities, was magnificent and affable. Had he never murdered his wives, his politeness to the fair sex would remain unimpeached. His martial sports were unincumbered by the barbaric pomp of the ancient chivalry, and softened by the growing habits of more rational manners. He was attached to those spectacles and public amusements, in which beauty assumed a principal share; and his frequent masques and tournaments encouraged a high spirit of romantic courtesy. Poetry was the natural accompaniment of these refinements. Henry himself was a leader and a chief character in these pageantries, and at the same time a reader and a writer of verses. The language and the manners of Italy were esteemed and studied. The sonnets of Petrarch were the great models of composition. They entered into the genius of the fashionable manners: and in a court of such a complexion, Petrarch of course became the popular poet. Henry Howard earl Surrey, with a mistress perhaps as beautiful as Laura, and at least with Petrarch's passion if not his taste, led the way to great improvements in English poetry, by a happy imitation of Petrarch, and other Italian poets, who had been most successful in painting the anxieties of love with pathos and propriety.

Lord Surrey's life throws so much light on the character and subjects of his poetry, that it is almost impossible to consider the one, without exhibiting a few anecdotes of the other. He was the son and grandson of two lords-treasurers dukes of Norfolk; and in his early childhood discovered the most promising marks of lively parts and an ctive mind.

While a boy, he was habituated to the modes of a court at Windsorcastle; where he resided, yet under the care of proper instructors, in the quality of a companion to Henry Fitzroy, duke of Richmond, a natural son of Henry VIII., and of the highest expectations.

This young nobleman, who also bore other titles and honours, was the child of Henry's affection: not so much on account of his hopeful abilities, as for a reason insinuated by lord Herbert, and at which those who know Henry's history and character will not be surprised, because he equally and strongly resembled both his father and mother.

A friendship of the closest kind commencing between these two illustrious youths, about the year 1530, they were both removed to cardinal Wolsey's college at Oxford, then universally frequented, as well for the excellence as the novelty of its institution; for it was one of the first seminaries of an English university, that professed to explode the pedantries of the old barbarous philosophy, and to cultivate the graces of polite literature. Two years afterwards, for the purpose of acquiring every accomplishment of an elegant education, the earl accompanied his noble friend and fellow-pupil into France, where they received king Henry, on his arrival at Calais to visit Francis I., with a most magnificent retinue. The friendship of these two young noblemen was soon strengthened by a new tie ; for Richmond married the lady Mary Howard, Surrey's sister. Richmond, however, appears to have died in the year 1536, about the age of seventeen, having never cohabited with his wife. [Wood, ATH. OXON. i. 68.] It was long, before Surrey forgot the untimely loss of this amiable youth, the friend and associate of his childhood, and who nearly resembled himself in genius, refinement of manners, and liberal acquisitions.

The FAIR GERALDINE, the general object of lord Surrey's passionate sonnets, is commonly said to have lived at Florence, and to have been of the family of the Geraldi of that city. This is a mistake, yet not entirely without grounds, propagated by an easy misapprehension of an expression in one of our poet's odes, and a passage in Drayton's heroic epistles. She was undoubtedly one of the daughters of Gerald Fitzgerald, earl of Kildare. But it will be necessary to transcribe what our author himself has said of this celebrated lady. The history of one who caused so memorable and so poetical a passion naturally excites curiosity, and will justify an investigation, which, on many a similar occasion, would properly be censured as frivolous and impertinent

From Tuskane came my ladies worthy race;

Faire Florence was sumtyme her [their] auncient seat:
The westerne yle, whose plesant shore doth face
Wild Camber's cliffs, did gyve her lively heate:
Fostred she was with milke of Irishe brest;
Her sire an earle: her dame of princes blood:
From tender yeres in Britain she doth rest

630

LORD SURREY AND HIS FAIR GERALDINE.

With kinges child, where she tasteth costly food.
Hunsdon did first present her to mine yien :
Bright is her hewe, and Geraldine she hight.
Hampton me taught to wish her first mine,

And Windsor alas! doth chase me from her sight'.

These notices, it must be confessed, are obscure and indirect.

But a late elegant biographer has, with the most happy sagacity, solved the difficulties of this little enigmatical ode, which had been before either neglected and unattempted as inexplicable, or rendered more unintelligible by false conjectures. I readily adopt Mr. Walpole's key to the genealogy of the matchless Geraldine2.

Her poetical appellation is almost her real name. Gerald Fitzgerald, above-mentioned, earl of Kildare in the reign of Henry VIII., married a second wife, Margaret daughter of Thomas Gray, marquis of Dorset by whom he had three daughters, Margaret, Elizabeth, and Cicely. Margaret was born deaf and dumb; and a lady who could neither hear nor answer her lover, and who wanted the means of contributing to the most endearing reciprocations, can hardly be supposed to have been the cause of any vehement effusions of amorous panegyric. We may therefore safely pronounce Elizabeth or Cicely to have been Surrey's favorite. It was probably Elizabeth, as she seems always to have lived in England.

Every circumstance of the sonnet evidently coincides with this state of the case. But, to begin with the first line, it will naturally be asked, what was lady Elizabeth Gerald's connection with Tuscany? The beginnings of noble families, like those of nations, often owe somewhat to fictitious embellishment: and our genealogists uniformly assert, that the family of Fitzgerald derives its origin from Otho, a descendant of the dukes of Tuscany: that they migrated into England under the reign of king Alfred, whose annals are luckily too scanty to contradict such an account, and where from England speedily translated into Ireland. Her father was an Irish earl, resident at his earldom of Kildare; and she was consequently born and nursed in Ireland. Her mother, adds the sonnet, was of princely parentage. Here is a no less exact correspondence with the line of the lady's pedigree: for Thomas, marquis of Dorset, was son of queen Elizabeth Gray, daughter of the duchess of Bedford, descended from the royal house of Luxemburgh. The poet acquaints us, that he first saw her at Hunsdon. This notice, which seems of an indifferent nature and quite extraneous to the question, abundantly corroborates our conjecture. Hunsdon-house in Hertfordshire was a new palace built by Henry VIII., and chiefly for the purpose of educating his children. The lady Elizabeth Fitzgerald was second cousin to Henry's daughters the princess Mary and Eliza

[blocks in formation]
« PreviousContinue »