Calamities And Quarrels Of Authors Part 62

"Adieu, both naule and bristles now for euer; The shoe and soale--ah, woe is me!--must sever.

Bewaile, mine awle, thy sharpest point is gone; My bristle's broke, and I am left alone.

Farewell old shoes, thumb-stall, and clouting-leather; Martin is gone, and we undone together."

Nor is Newman, the other cobbler, less mortified and pathetic.

"The London Corresponding Society" had a more ancient origin than that sodality was aware.

"My hope once was, my old shoes should be sticht; My thumbs ygilt, that were before bepicht: Now Martin's gone, and laid full deep in ground, My gentry's lost, before it could be found."

Among the Martin Mar-Prelate books was one ent.i.tled "The Cobbler's Book." This I have not seen; but these cobblers probably picked up intelligence for these scandalous chronicles. The writers, too, condescended to intersperse the cant dialect of the populace, with which the cobblers doubtless a.s.sisted these learned men, when busied in their buffoonery. Hence all their vulgar gibberish; the s.h.i.+bboleth of the numerous cla.s.s of their admirers--such as, "O, whose _tat_?" John _Kan_kerbury, for Canterbury; _Paltri_-politans, for Metropolitans; _See Villains_, for Civilians; and Doctor of _Devility_, for Divinity! and more of this stamp. Who could imagine that the writers of these scurrilities were learned men, and that their patrons were men of rank! We find two knights heavily fined for secreting these books in their cellars. But it is the nature of rebellion to unite the two extremes; for _want_ stirs the populace to rise, and _excess_ the higher orders. This idea is admirably expressed in one of our elder poets:--

"Want made them murmur; for the people, who To get their bread, do wrestle with their fate, Or those, who in superfluous riot flow, Soonest rebel. Convulsions in a State, Like those which natural bodies do oppress, Rise from repletion, or from emptiness."

ALEYNE'S _Henry VII_.

[421] The writer of Algernon Sidney's Memoirs could not have known this fact, or he would not have said that "this was the first indictment of high treason upon which any man lost his life for _writing anything without publis.h.i.+ng it_."--Edit. 1751, p.

21. It is curious to have Sidney's own opinion on this point.

We discover this on his trial. He gives it, a.s.suming one of his own n.o.ble principles, not likely to have been allowed by the wretched Tories of that day. Addressing the villanous Jeffries, the Lord Chief Justice:--"My Lord, I think it is _a right of mankind, and 'tis exercised by all studious men_, to write, in their own closets, what they please, for their own memory; and no man can be answerable for it, unless they publish it." Jeffries replied:--"Pray don't go away with _that right of mankind_, that it is lawful for me to write what I will in my own closet, so I do not publish it. We must not endure men to talk thus, that by the _right of nature_ every man may contrive mischief in his own chamber, and is not to be punished till he thinks fit to be called to it." Jeffries was a profligate sophist, but his talents were as great as his vices.

[422] Penry's unfinished pet.i.tion, which he designed to have presented to the Queen before the trial, is a bold and energetic composition; his protestation, after the trial, a pathetic prayer! Neale has preserved both in his "History of the Puritans." With what simplicity of eloquence he remonstrates on the temporising government of Elizabeth. He thus addresses the Queen, under the t.i.tle of Madam!--"Your standing is, and has been, by the Gospel: it is little beholden to you for anything that appears. The practice of your government shows that if you could have ruled without the Gospel, it would have been doubtful whether the Gospel should be established or not; for now that you are established in your throne by the Gospel, you suffer it to reach no farther than the end of your sceptre limiteth unto it." Of a milder, and more melancholy cast, is the touching language, when the hope of life, but not the firmness of his cause had deserted him. "I look not to live this week to an end. I never took myself for a rebuker, much less for a reformer of states and kingdoms. I never did anything in this cause for contention, vainglory, or to draw disciples after me.

Great things, in this life, I never sought for: sufficiency I had, with great outward trouble; but most content I was with my lot, and content with my untimely death, though I leave behind me a friendless widow and four infants."--Such is often the pathetic cry of the simple-hearted, who fall the victims to the political views of more designing heads.

We could hardly have imagined that this eloquent and serious young man was that Martin Mar-Prelate who so long played the political ape before the populace, with all the mummery of their low buffoonery, and even mimicking their own idioms. The populace, however, seems to have been divided in their opinions respecting the sanity of his politics, as appears by some ludicrous lines, made on Penry's death, by a northern rhymer.

"The Welshman is hanged, Who at our kirke f.l.a.n.g.ed, And at the state banged, And brened are his buks.

And though he be hanged, Yet he is not wranged; The deil has him fanged In his kruked kluks."

WEEVER'S _Funerall Monuments_, p. 56. Edit. 1631.

[423] Observe what different conclusions are drawn from the same fact by opposite writers. Heylin, arguing that Udall had been justly condemned, adds, "the man remained a _living monument_ of the archbishop's extraordinary goodness to him in the preserving of that life which by the law he had forfeited." But Neale, on the same point, considers him as one who "died for his conscience, and stands upon record _as a monument_ of the oppression and cruelty of the government." All this opposition of feeling is of the nature of party-spirit; but what is more curious in the history of human nature, is the change of opinion in the same family in the course of the same generation. The son of this Udall was as great a zealot for Conformity, and as great a sufferer for it from his father's party, when they possessed political power. This son would not submit to their oaths and covenants, but, with his bedridden wife, was left unmercifully to perish in the open streets,--WALKER'S _Sufferings of the Clergy_, part ii. p. 178.

SUPPLEMENT TO MARTIN MAR-PRELATE.

As a literary curiosity, I shall preserve a very rare poetical tract, which describes with considerable force the Revolutionists of the reign of Elizabeth. They are indeed those of wild democracy; and the subject of this satire will, I fear, be never out of time. It is an admirable political satire against a mob-government. In our poetical history, this specimen too is curious, for it will show that the stanza in alternate rhymes, usually denominated elegiac, is adapted to very opposite themes. The solemnity of the versification is impressive, and the satire equally dignified and keen.

The taste of the mere modern reader had been more gratified by omitting some unequal pa.s.sages; but, after deliberation, I found that so short a composition would be injured by dismembering extracts. I have distinguished by italics the lines to which I desire the reader's attention, and have added a few notes to clear up some pa.s.sages which might appear obscure.

RYTHMES AGAINST MARTIN MARRE-PRELATE.[424]

_Ordo Sacerdotum fatuo turbatur ab omni, Labitur et pa.s.sim Religionis honos._

Since Reason, _Martin_, cannot stay thy pen, We 'il see what rime will do; have at thee then!

A Dizard late skipt out upon our stage, But in a sacke, that no man might him see; And though we know not yet the paltrie page, Himselfe hath _Martin_ made his name to bee.

A proper name, and for his feates most fit; The only thing wherein he hath shew'd wit.

Who knoweth not, that Apes, men _Martins_ call,[425]

Which beast, this baggage seemes as 't were himselfe: So as both nature, nurture, name, and all, Of that's expressed in this apish elfe.

Which Ile make good to Martin Marre-als face, In three plaine poynts, and will not bate an ace.

For, first, _the Ape delights with moppes and mowes, And mocketh Prince and Peasants all alike_; _This jesting Jacke_, that no good manners knowes, _With his a.s.se-heeles presumes all states to strike_.

Whose scoffes so stinking in each nose doth smell, As all mouthes saie of Dolts he beares the bell.

Sometimes his chappes do walke in poynts too high, Wherein the Ape himself a Woodc.o.c.k tries.

Sometimes with floutes he drawes his mouth awrie, And sweares by his ten bones, and falselie lies.

Wherefore be he what he will I do not pa.s.se; He is the paltriest Ape that euer was.

Such fleering, leering, jeering fooles bopeepe, Such hahas! teehees! weehees! wild colts play; Such Sohoes! whoopes and hallowes; hold and keepe; Such rangings, ragings, reuelings, roysters ray; With so foule mouth, and knaue at euery catch, 'Tis some knaue's nest did surely _Martin_ hatch.

_Now out he runnes with Cuckowe king of May, Then in he leapes with a wild Morrice daunce_; Then strikes he up _Dame Lawson's_[426] l.u.s.tie lay; Then comes Sir _Jeffrie's_ ale-tub, tapp'd by chaunce, Which makes me gesse, and I can shrewdly smell, He loues both t' one and t'other pa.s.sing well.

_Then straight, as though he were distracted quite, He chafeth like a cut-purse layde in warde_; _And rudely railes with all his maine and might, Against both knights and lords without regard_: So as _Bridewell_ must tame his dronken fits, And _Bedlem_ help to bring him to his wits.

But, _Martin_, why, in matters of such weight, Dost thou thus _play the dawe, and dauncing foole_?

O sir (quoth he) _this is a pleasant baite For men of sorts_, to traine them to my schoole.

_Ye n.o.ble states, how can you like hereof, A shamelesse Ape at your sage head should scoffe?_

Good Noddie, now leaue scribbling in such matters; They are no tooles for fooles to tend unto; Wise men regard not what mad monkies patters!

'Twere trim a beast should teach men what to do.

Now _Tarleton's_ dead, the consort lackes a Vice.

For knaue and foole thou maist bear p.r.i.c.k and price.

The sacred sect, and perfect pure precise, Whose cause must be by _Scoggin's_ jests mainteinde, Ye shewe, although that Purple, Apes disguise, Yet Apes are still, and so must be, disdainde.

_For though your Lyons lookes weake eyes escapes, Your babling bookes bewraies you all for Apes._

The next point is, _Apes use to tosse and teare What once their fidling fingers fasten on_; _And clime aloft, and cast downe euery where, And neuer staie till all that stands be gon!_ Now whether this in _Martin_ be not true, You wiser heads marke here what doth ensue.

What is it not that _Martin_ doth not rent?

Cappes, tippets, gownes, black chiuers, rotchets white; Communion bookes, and homelies: yea, so bent To teare, as women's wimples feele his spite.

Thus tearing all, as all apes use to doo, He teares withall the Church of Christ in two.

Marke now what thinges he meanes to tumble downe, For to this poynt to look is worth the while, In one that makes no choice 'twixt cap and crowne, Cathedral churches he would fain untile, And s.n.a.t.c.h up bishops' lands, and catch away All gaine of learning for his prouling pray.

_And thinke you not he will pull downe at length As well the top from tower as c.o.c.ke from steeple_; _And when his head hath gotten some more strength, To play with Prince as now he doth with People_: Yes, he that now saith, Why should Bishops bee?

Will next crie out, _Why Kings? The Saincts are free!_

The Germaine boores with Clergiemen began, But neuer left till Prince and Peeres were dead.

_Jacke Leyden was a holy zealous man, But ceast not till the Crowne was on his head._ And _Martin's_ mate, _Jacke Strawe_, would alwaies ring, The Clergie's faults, but sought to kill the King.

"Oh that," quoth _Martin_, "_chwere_ a n.o.bleman!"[427]

Avaunt, vile villain! 'tis not for such swads.

And of the Counsell, too: marke Princes then: These roomes are raught at by these l.u.s.tie lads.

_For Apes must climbe, and neuer stay their wit, Untill on top of highest hilles they sit._

What meane they els, in euery towne to craue Their Priest and King like Christ himself to be: _And for one Pope ten thousand Popes to have, And to controll the highest he or she?_ Aske Scotland that, whose King so long they crost, As he was like his kingdome to haue lost.

Beware ye States and n.o.bles of this lande, The Clergie is but one of these men's b.u.t.tes.