Timon's steward and household remain steadfast when all the "summer flies" have flown. Their loyalty is a holy relic of antique faith, an amulet against the infection of their master's misanthropy. Shakspeare seems to have disliked nobody-but constables and jobbing justices, and deals very leniently with them. He was in perfect good-humour with court, city, and country, and spared none of them when a joke came into his head. But again be it remembered, Shakspeare was a prosperous man, of a happy complexion, and could take an excursion when he chose into Warwickshire or Faëry land. We are naturally curious to inquire whether Massinger was known to Shakspeare; and whether they liked one another; and what they thought of each other; and whether they ever took a cup of sack together at the Mitre or the Mermaid; and whether Massinger was ever umpire or bottle-holder (he was too grave to be a partaker) at those wit-combats, so happily described by Old Fuller ;* which nevertheless I shrewdly suspect, if taken down after the manner of the Noctes Ambrosianæ,† would not have much enhanced the fame either of Shakspeare or Jonson, whatever they might say for their conviviality. The wit-combats in their plays, are the dullest sins of which they are ever guilty. Repartee is the accomplishment of lighter thinkers and a less earnest age. Besides, Mto μvýμova Evμñoтv. Most likely Shakspeare Μισῶ μνήμονα Συμποτήν. and Massinger met, but we have no ground to conjecture the amount of their acquaintAs dramatists, they were hardly contemporary-at least, Shakspeare retired some years before Massinger produced his earliest extant play; though no less than nine, exclusive of the "Old Law" (his share in which is doubtful), are placed, in the lists of Malone and Gifford, before the "Virgin Martyr."‡ Let us take it for ance. "Many were the wit-combats betwixt him (Shakspeare) and Ben Jonson, which two I behold like a Spanish great galleon and an English man-of-war. Master Jonson, like the former, was built higher in learning,―solid but slow in his performances. Shakspeare, with an English man-of-war,-lesser in bulk, but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, and take advantage of all winds, by the quickness of his wit and invention."-Fuller's Worthies. † A collection of the genuine NOCTES (for there are some spurious, in which the real Christopher had little or no concern) would not only afford to future historians a true feeling of the spirit of the times, and to all readers a shoeing-horn to thought or to laughter, but would form a valuable addition to dramatic literature. Barring an occasional irregularity of plot, they are perfect specimens of comedy. Indeed, I know not any comedy in which actual conversation is so naturally imitated, without ever stiffening into debate or amœbæan oratory, or slipping into morning-call twaddle. Whatever the strain,-whether wit, or fun, or pathos, or philosophy, it arises spontaneously, as the tones of an aeolian harp; you never feel that the party are met to discuss anything. One topic succeeds another, with the same apparent casualty, and the same under current of suggestion, as in the Odes of Pindar. The characters are sustained with consummate skill and consistency. Christopher North himself is, perhaps, the happiest speaking mask since My Father Shandy and My Uncle Toby were silent (for Elia is Charles himself). To be sure, the compotators have no bowels for Cockneys or Whigs. Yet I like their Toryism, because it is of the old, hearty, cavalier, fox-hunting, beef and port kidney, such as Ben, and Shakspeare, and Dick Corbet (pride of the lawn), would have chimed in with. Tories, of the Ambrosial sect, understood, that in order to be a gentleman it is necessary to be a man. prudish Conservatism of the present day is no more like genuine old Toryism, than Milton's Republicanism was like modern Radicalism. Let all Blues, of either sex, or none,-liberal or conservative,-high church, low church, or no church,-water drinkers or liqueur sippers,-keep in good company, out of the reach of Christopher's crutch. are, The Their titles "The Forced Lady," "The Secretary," "The Noble Choice," "The Wandering Lovers," "Philenzo and Hippolyta," "Antonio and Vallia," "The Tyrant," "Fast and Welcome" (a title that does not sound popish), and "The Woman's Plot," which last was acted at Court in 1621. All granted that the old Bard encouraged the young aspirant (for he knew the fatalities of the human will too well to dissuade), and prognosticated his future greatness; though the prognostics of poets with regard to each other are as fallible as their political vaticinations. There can be no doubt that Massinger admired and studied Shakspeare. In the haste of composition, his mind turned up many thoughts and phrases of the elder writer, in a more or less perfect state of preservation, but he was neither a plagiarist nor an imitator. His style, conduct, characterisation, and metre, are perfectly distinct. No serious dramatist of the age owed Shakspeare so little. Yet in a mock romance called "Wit and Fancy in a Maze, or Don Zara del Fogo,” 1656, where an uproar of the poets is described, Massinger is introduced as one of Shakspeare's body-guard. Hence, and from an ambiguous expression or two in his prologues, seeming to glance at the impatience of Ben at the ill-usage of his "New these, except "The Secretary," which seems to have been printed, though now lost, with “The Spanish Viceroy" (acted 1624), “ Minerva's Sacrifice" (Nov. 3, 1629), and "Believe as You List" (May 7, 1631), perished in Mr. Herald Warburton's kitchen, by a more ignominious combustion than the Alexandrian library, though that was twice consumed,-first by Christian zeal, and then by Saracenic fanaticism. Mr. Warburton should have walked barefoot over the ashes of Herculaneum for a penance; but he did no penance: and I am afraid he did scold his cook, who was not to blame. Yet I would commend this incident to the serious reflection of those persons who would not have domestics able to write, or to read writing. Only consider,— they might have been sermons instead of plays. Fifty-two sermons,-warranted original! We need not, however, utterly despair of recovering some of these sybilline books. The "Parliament of Love" came to light very opportunely for Mr. Gifford, by whom it was first printed (though with some unavoidable lacunæ) from a MS. in the possession of Mr. Malone, and supposed to be Massinger's autograph, with sundry obliterations and interpolations by the officious-I mean official-Sir H. Herbert. A lucky discovery put the fact beyond doubt. Mr. Gifford, in the interval between his first and second edition, received a letter from Mr. Octavius Gilchrist, announcing that Mr. Blore, in collecting materials for a History of Derbyshire, had discovered, among the papers of the late Mr. Gell of Hopton, a copy of the original edition of the "Duke of Milan," presented by the author to Sir Francis Foljambe, a Derbyshire gentleman, to whom he afterwards dedicated his "Maid of Honour,"-interlined and corrected throughout with his own hand, and preceded by a copy of verses addressed to Sir Francis himself. The acquisition of this treasure must have brightened at least one day in Gifford's painful existence. It established Massinger's claim to the "Parliament of Love,” sometime attributed to Rowley,-a play in which the Editor had the interest of a foster-father, though, as seems to me, of no very gracious child. It decided the orthography of Massinger's name,-which Mr. Malone would have to be Messenger, as it is spelt in Davison's endorsement. A man who makes a name has an undoubted right to spell it as he chooses. But, above all, Mr. Gifford ascertained from Massinger's own hand the correctness of several of his conjectural emendations! His triumph must have been as great as Bentley's when he found that his conjectural restoration of a Greek inscription was the actual reading of the stone. These statements, derived from the advertisement to the second edition (in which Mr. Gifford takes a great deal more pains to chastise an Edinburgh reviewer than the cur was worth), may give us hope, that in some forgotten hiding-place of some old Catholic or Royalist mansion, redolent of foisty antiquity-where countless generations of the genus Blatta have wrought their winding catacombs for centuries,-some unknown labour of Massinger, Fletcher, or Shakspeare himself, may now be crumbling. . . . . Were it but a note or a memorandum While speaking of Mr. Gifford, I must take leave gently to complain of him, and other investigators of curious literature, for referring, with the most provoking bibliographical accuracy, to books and manuscripts which, to all but one out of ten thousand, might as well be in the lost Pleiad as where they are; instead of transcribing the passages required to establish the point in question. I am sorely puzzled about Don Zara del Fogo, with whom I have no acquaintance, and no chance of an introduction. I cannot tell what he implies by making Massinger a satellite of Shakspeare. *He submits To the grave censure of those abler wits Inn," and other senilia, it has been surmised, I hope erroneously, that he was illaffected towards Jonson. It is an unwise thing in an author to show that he is hurt, and a vain attempt to appeal against the decrees of such an irresponsible despot as an audience. It is only for a Coriolanus, Shakspeare's Coriolanus, to say to the people, "I banish you." But it is worse than unwise to reproach an aged genius with the decay of his powers, and if Massinger joined with the "stinkards in the twopenny rooms," or the gallants who took tobacco on the stage, to insult the infirmities of poor old Ben, not all our admiration of the contempt. But I do not, I cannot believe it. but can it be base? Massinger himself was not tame to censure. Dramatist ought to save the man from It appears that his "Emperor of the East" was opposed on its first appearance. The dishonour was fairly wiped off when the play was commanded at court. A court bespeak was the highest favour a drama * His weakness, nor dares he profess that when The critics laugh, he'll laugh at them again. Strange self-love in a writer !-Prologue to Guardian. Let others, building on their merit, say You're in the wrong, if you move not that way Which they prescribe you; as you were bound to learn Their maxims, but incapable to discern "Twixt truth and falsehood. Ours had rather be Censured by some for too much obsequy Than tax'd of self-opinion.-Prologue to Bashful Lover. I cannot positively affirm that Massinger did not write this mob-adulation, for everything he has written in rhyme is exceedingly clumsy, but there is no proof whatever that he did write it. Prologues were then, as in later times, after-thoughts, and in general not composed by the author of the play. No one can think, for instance, that the prologue to "King Henry VIII." was written by Shakspeare,―or Ben Jonson either. Such jobs were generally committed to the operatives of the play-house. Dryden seems to have been the first who fairly set his wits to work at a prologue or epilogue. I believe Mr. Miles Peter Andrews was the last who acquired a reputation in this line. Epilogue writers in particular have applied the experimentum crucis, to ascertain how much doggrel, vulgarity, and impudence, they could get an actress to speak, or a gallery to endure. Nothing short of demonstration shall make me believe that Massinger curried favour by insulting Jonson. There were hands enough about any play-house for such dirty work, and I beg leave to propose that the obnoxious lines be attributed to Swanston, the "wretched player," as Gifford calls him, who, while his fellow-actors either fought for their royal patron, or were content to beg, steal, or starve, as best they could, slunk over to the prevailing party, and professed that "he had always been a presbyterian in his heart." I confess, I can bring no evidence of this, only Swanston was an actor at the theatres where Massinger's plays were produced, very famous in Chapman's Bussy d'Ambois, and the only one of the quality that ratted; and what is a little additional soot to a chimney-sweeper? • Massinger had his share of bespeaks. It may surprise some of our sabbatarian high-church-men that the semi-canonized Charles ordered "The Guardian,"-no very Hannah Morisco drama-to be performed at court on SUNDAY, 12th January, 1633, just after the appearance of Prynne's Histriomastyx. This looks like defiance, and to say the best of it, was in bad taste. For the Book of Sports there was at least a plausible pretext the inhibition of healthful exercises in the open air does not induce the labouring class to keep the sabbath holy. But there is a wide difference between out-of-door recreation, permitted to the poor on their only day of leisure, and a play performed for lucre, in a crowded room, before persons who may see plays any day in the week. But it was by no means the only instance in which Charles, partly from opposition to the puritans, and partly in complaisance to his wife, outraged the religious feelings of his best friends. It is perhaps as well that Mr. T. Duncombe did not remember that he actually gave leave to a French company to play on tist could look for; and Massinger took the occasion to express his vexation in an occasional prologue, as follows: As ever, sir, you lent a gracious ear To oppressed innocence, now vouchsafe to hear A short petition. At your feet, in me The poet kneels, and to your Majesty When first conceived, in his vote and intent sermon-days during Lent. How came it that Laud did not remonstrate against acts, which, whether criminal or not, were certainly mali exempli, and superfluously unpopular? Perhaps he did-and was disregarded ; perhaps his devotion to the king, as head of the church, closed his lips. Yet St. Ambrose did not scruple to put an emperor to open penance. Loyalty is the bounden duty of a Christian, but ultra-royalism is the Achillesheel of the Church of England, which has suffered more by the reign of Charles I1. than by the temporary domination of its enemies. Sir Henry Herbert, who knew well enough who was at the bottom of the Lent business, refused ten pounds from the French players "because he wished to render the Queen, his mistress, an acceptable service." Yet he made Massinger pay twenty shillings for a play he would not permit to be performed. Sneak! Queen Henrietta paid Massinger a more unusual compliment than ordering his plays at court. She attended the performance of his "Cleander" (a lost tragedy), at the Blackfriars' Theatre. Considering what theatres then were, when the young gallants were in the habit of displaying their bravery and tobacco pipes on stools upon the stage (a nuisance which Charles II. thought necessary to abate by an order in council), and when there were twopenny rooms where ale and tobacco were sold, I cannot think this a very queenly or prudent condescension. On another occasion, February, 1636, when Davenant's "Triumphs of the Prince d'Amour" was presented at the Middle Temple, the daughter of Henri Quatre with her ladies sat on the platform with the promiscuous assemblage, in the dress of citizens' wives, then far more distinct from court habiliments than at present. Charles should not have permitted these vagaries. Unseemly condescension never atones for habitual hauteur: and unpopular personages, by hunting popularity, only add contempt to hatred. Popular characters, while their day lasts, may do anything; their vices are only proofs of a good heart; their illhumours are dulces Amaryllidis iræ-pretty Fanny's way-their grossest absurdity is perfume in the public nostrils. Decipiunt cæcum vitia, aut etiam hæc But every man that squinted was not a Wilkes, even in the heyday of Wilkes and liberty. Kemble's cough and Kean's "damnable faces" were ouly admired in Kemble and Kean. Desdemona might not have fancied Ignatius Sancho, though she fell in love with Othello. The very peculiarities, which as symbols of individuality, serve as pegs for love to hang upon, are just as liable to arrest the burs of hatred. Every one must have felt this in their own case. A lisp a stammer-a provincial accent-a cast of the eye-un petit nez retroussé, how amiable in the amiable,-in the disagreeable how odious. A popular person can do nothing wrong: an unpopular person, especially if of high rank, can do nothing right. The French never affected puritanical rigour. Yet the levities into which Marie Antoinette was seduced by the over-confidence of virtue, were served up as a bonne-bouche for jacobin malice. But what with the common unthinking vulgar is merely prejudice, becomes deadly rancour when vulgarity is intensified by fanaticism. Poor Henrietta and her royal husband were sorely mistaken if they thought that by publicity and splendour they could appease a hatred which had usurped the throne of duty. I know not whether Massinger received any pecuniary bounty from the king beyond the customary honorarium, which he might share with the players. Charles gave Cartwright forty pounds for his "Royal Slave," perhaps from some mysterious presentiment connected with the name. His interest in theatricals was more than consistent with the gravity of his character. He furnished Shirley with the plot of his "Gamester," and desired Sir H. Herbert to inform him that it was the best play he had seen for seven years. I like Charles all the better for these things, but the puritans did not. His expenses in masques and pageants would have paid and armed many loyal soldiers, and perhaps might have bought off a patriot or two. Was sacred to your pleasure, in each part He durst not, sir, at such a solemn feast, Yet still he hopes this play, which then was seen, With sore eyes, and condemned out of their spleen, And raised above the reach of calumny. I know not what Queen Henrietta did and did not blush at, but certainly I would not undertake to read the "Emperor of the East" in the presence of female majesty, without considerable curtailment, and the entire excision of the prose part of the fourth scene of the fourth act, in which the author (not Massinger, who never wrote prose), for the sake of a scurrilous jest, has committed a medical anachronism. But surely Massinger could have no right, after authorising this prologue, to reflect on Ben. With this doubtful exception, our author seems to have lived on good terms with all his brethren. No line in his plays could annoy any writer-living or dead-which is more than can be said for Shakspeare, who was rather prone to parody. Shirley, Ford, May, Goff (in a Latin epigram which would puzzle Martial, and break Priscian's heart), George Donne (whom Mr. Weber innocently confounded with Dr. John Donne), and a cortege of Jays, and J. B.'s, and J. T.'s, heralded his plays, like the dwarf before the giant, with commendatory verses, which it is well to accept as testimonies of friendship-for assuredly they are good for nothing else. His dedications are beautiful samples of pure mother English, commendable for a self-respectful respectfulness, very different from the presumptuous adulation of Dryden and Young, but painful from their weary iteration of complaint and acknowledgment I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds With coldness still returning; Alas! the gratitude of men Hath oftener left me mourning.-Wordsworth. Complaint seems to have become habitual to him, like the sickly tone of a confirmed valetudinarian, who thinks you unfeeling if you tell him he is looking well. We are accustomed to hear of the peaceful days of Charles, as days when the sister Muses sang together in the warm light of a Christian Phoebus. Yet Massinger continually talks of his "despised quality," and addresses each successive dedicatee as his sole and last hope. Gifford says, "all Massinger's patrons were persons of worth and consideration." He never degraded himself, like poor Otway, by dedicating to a titled courtezan; but his principal patron, Philip of Pembroke and Montgomery, has left a stain upon the name of Herbert which no dedication can wash away. His ignorance |