Gesta Grayorum
[gestus: artificial gesture of an
actor.]
[A] vacation gave [Francis Bacon] leisure for work, and
Christmas brought festivities for recreation. And it happens luckily that
some traces remain of the manner in which he improved both. It was on the
5th of December, 1599, that he commenced that "Promus of Formularies and
Elegancies," of which I have given a particular account in the
'Literary Works;' in which may be traced (if I have read it right) the
footprints of a journey in the mind over a large field of reading and
meditation, with a view to fix the leading features in memory and store
them for future use. And it was on the 29th of the same month that he was
called in to assist in "recovering the lost honour of Gray's Inn," which
had suffered the night before by the miscarriage of a Christmas revel. For the more serious labour I may refer the reader to the other part of this work, to which it more properly belongs. But a contribution to the Gray's Inn revels belongs unquestionably to the "occasional" department; and to be properly understood, must be taken in connexion with the surrounding circumstances. These are indeed set forth at full length in a tract which is not difficult to procure, having been reprinted in Nichols's 'Progresses of Queen Elizabeth.' But as Bacon's name does not appear upon the face of the narrative; and as his connexion with it, though sufficiently obvious, has never so far as I know been pointed out or suspected; I assume that the little story which I am going to tell (presenting as it does a curious and very picturesque illustration of the manners of the time and the humours of the people among whom all his early and middle life was spent) is not so familiar to the students of his works but that they will be glad to see it here. |
"I trust they will not mum nor mask nor sinfully revel"
(so writes Lady Bacon to her son Anthony, on the 5th of December,) "at
Gray's Inn. Who were sometime counted first, God grant they wane not daily
and deserve to be named last." But it was too late for praying. The youth
of Gray's Inn were already deep in sinful consultation. Their revels, in
which they used to excel, had been intermitted for the last three or four
years, and they were resolved to redeem the time by producing this year
something out of the common way. Their device was to turn Gray's Inn, "with
the consent and advice of the Readers and Ancients," into the semblance of
a court and kingdom, and to entertain each other during the twelve days of
Christmas licence with playing at kings and counsellors. They proceeded
accordingly to elect a prince -- the Prince of Purpoole. They provided him
with a Privy Council for advice in matters of state; with a
presence-chamber for audience, and a council-chamber for business; with all
officers of state, law, and household; with gentlemen pensioners to wait on
his person, and a guard, with a captain of the guard, to defend it. They
raised treasure for the support of his state and dignity, partly by a
benevolence, which was granted by those who were present, and partly by
"letters in the nature of privy seals" which were directed to those who
were away. They sent to "their ancient allied friend, the Inner Temple," a
formal communication of their proceedings, with request that an ambassador
from that state might be sent to reside amongst them; which was with equal
formality accorded, "as ancient amity and league required and deserved." On
the 20th of December, the Prince with all his state, after the pattern of a
royal procession exactly marshaled, proceeded to the great hall of Gray's
Inn, and took his seat on the throne. The trumpets sounded thrice, the
King-at-arms proclaimed his style and blazoned his arms; the Champion rode
in in full armour and threw down his gage in defiance of all disputers; the
Attorney made his speech of congratulation; the Solicitor recited the names
of all homagers and tributaries, with the nature of their tenures and
services (a recital which gave occasion to many jocose allusions, veiled
under legal phraseology -- and many of them much in need of a veil to the
manners, customs, and occupations of the several suburban localities), and
summoned them to appear and do homage. A Parliament, which was to have been
held, was given up, owing to the necessary absence of "some special
officers;" but as a subsidy was obtained and a general pardon granted
notwithstanding, the jest was rather improved perhaps than injured by the
omission. The pardon was read at full length; an elaborate burlesque,
beginning with a proclamation of free pardon for every kind of offense for
which a name could be invented, and ending with a long list of cases
excepted, which does in fact include every offense which could possibly be
committed. Then the Prince, having made a short speech to his subjects,
called his Master of the Revels, and the evening ended with dances. This was the first day's entertainment; and though the humour has lost its edge for us, it hit the fancy of the time so well and raised such great expectation that the performers were encouraged to enlarge their plan and raise their style. They resolved therefore (besides all this court-pomp and their daily sports among themselves) to have certain "grand nights," in which something special should be performed for the entertainment of strangers. But the same expectation which suggested the design spoiled the performance. For on the first of these "grand nights" (which was intended for the special honour of the Templarians), when the Ambassador had arrived in great state, and been conducted to the presence with sound of trumpet, and after interchange of elaborate compliments seated beside the Prince, and the entertainment was ready to begin before a splendid company of "lords, ladies, and worshipful personages that did expect some notable performance," -- the throng grew suddenly so great and the stage so crowded with beholders that there was not room enough for the actors; and nothing could be done. The ambassador and his train retired in discontent; and when the tumult partly subsided they were obliged (in default of those "very good inventions and conceipts" which had been intended) to content themselves with ordinary dancing and revelling; and when that was over, with "a Comedy of Errors (like to Plautus his Menechmus)," which "was played by the players." This performance seems to have been regarded as the crowning disgrace of this unfortunate Grand Night; a fact, by the way, indicating (if it were Shakespeare's play, as I suppose it was) either rich times or poor tastes; for the historian proceeds, "so that night was begun, and continued to the end, in nothing but confusion and errors; whereupon it was ever afterwards called the Night of Errors." |
This was on the 28th of December. The next night was
taken up with a legal inquiry into the causes of those disorders. A
commission of Oyer and Terminer was issued. A certain "sorcerer or conjurer
that was supposed to be the cause of that confused inconvenience" was
arraigned before a jury of twenty-four gentlemen, on several charges; of
which the last was "that he had foisted a company of base and common
fellows to make up our disorders with a play of errors and confusions." He
met the charge by a counter-statement, set forth in a petition which was
presented and read by the Master of Requests, showing that all was due to
negligence on the part of the Council and great officers, and appealing to
the Prince; who finding the allegations in the petition to be true,
pardoned and released the prisoner; but finding them also to be offensive,
as taxing the government, and therefore not proper to pass unpunished,
ordered to the Tower (along with the Attorney and Solicitor, whose
delinquencies it exposed) the Master of Requests, who had been acquainted
with its contents. After this broad parody upon the administration of justice by the Crown in Council, they proceeded to "hold a great consultation for the recovery of their lost honour;" which ended in a resolution "that the Prince's Council should be reformed, and some graver conceipts should have their places, to advise upon those things that were propounded to be done afterward." And here it is that the story begins to bare an interest for us. It is most probable that one of these "graver conceipts" was Bacon himself. It is certain that an entertainment of a very superior kind was produced a few days after, in the preparation of which he took a principal part. Friday, the 3rd of January, was to be the night. "Divers plots and devices" were arranged. Order was taken to prevent overcrowding and confusion. A great number of great persons, among them the Lord Keeper, the Lord Treasurer, the Vice-Chamberlain, and several other Privy Councillors, were invited and came. When all were seated, the Prince came in full state and took his throne. The Ambassador from Templaria followed with his train, and was placed by the Prince's side; and the performance began, after the fashion of those entertainments, with a dumb-show; the object of which was to represent the reconciliation between Gray's Inn and the Temple, which had been disturbed by the Night of Errors. The curtain being withdrawn discovered the Arch-flamen of the Goddess of Amity standing at her altar, and round it nymphs and fairies singing hymns in her praise, and "making very pleasant melody with viols and voices." Then came in, pair by pair, all the heroic patterns of friendship, Theseus and Pirithous, Achilles and Patroclus, Pylades and Orestes, Scipio and Laelius, each pair offering incense upon the altar as they passed; "which shined and burned very clear without blemish." Last came Graius and Templarius, lovingly, arm in arm; but when they offered their incense the flame was choked with "troubled smoke and dark vapour," until the Arch-flamen performed certain mystical ceremonies and invocations, and the nymphs sang hymns of pacification, upon which the flame burnt up clearer than it had ever done before, and continued longer, and the Arch-flamen pronounced them to be as true and perfect friends as any of those others, and divined that their love would be perpetual; "and so with sweet and pleasant melody the curtain was drawn as it was at the first." The show being ended, the Prince in token of satisfaction invested the Ambassador and twenty-four of his retinue, with the Collar of the Knighthood of the Helmet; upon which the King-at-Arms, -- having first declared how the Prince had instituted this Order in memory of the arms he bore, which were given to one of his ancestors for saving the life of the then sovereign, "in regard that as the helmet defendeth the chiefest part of the body, the head, so did he then defend the head of the state," -- proceeded to read the articles of the Order; which they were all to vow to keep, each kissing the helmet as he took his vow. |
These articles present in a strain of playful satire so
elegant an illustration of the fashions and humours of those days, that I
shall transcribe them at length; the rather as forming part of an
entertainment in the preparation of which Bacon certainly had a hand,
though not, I think, in the execution of this part of it.
|
Next follows the part in which we are more especially
concerned, -- that part for the better illustration of which I have thought
it worth while to tell the story.
It remains for me to give what account I can of the narrative in which it is preserved. It is a quarto pamphlet of 68 pages; printed in 1685, for "W. Canning, at his shop in the Temple Cloisters;" with a dedication to Matthew Smith, Esq., Comptroller of the Inner Temple; apparently from a manuscript written by some member of Gray's Inn who was an eye-witness of what he relates; and bearing the title "Gesta Grayorum, or the History of the high and mighty Prince, Henry, Prince of Purpoole, etc., who reigned and died A.D. 1594." Whom it was by, where and when it was found, how it came into the publisher's hands, we are not informed. We can only gather from the dedication that it was found by accident, and printed without alteration. The dedication is signed W. C., which stands, I presume, for W. Canning, the printer. But Nichols, who re-printed the pamphlet (without the dedication) in his 'Progresses of Queen Elizabeth' (III. 262), tells us that "the publisher was Mr. Henry Keepe, who published the 'Monuments of Westminster.'" It is a pity that the publisher, whoever he was, did not tell us a little more about the manuscript, though it is probable enough that he had not much more to tell. Nothing is more natural than that such a narrative should have been written at the time for the amusement and satisfaction of the parties concerned; should have been laid by and forgotten; and found again Iying by itself, without anybody to tell its story for it. There is more of it; the historian proceeding to record other achievements of the Prince of Purpoole, whose reign was prolonged beyond the days of ordinary licence, and did not end before Shrove Tuesday. But I look in vein for any further traces of Bacon's hand. [@ Works VIII, 341-43] |
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