with this favorite brother poet, this ingenuous friend, to whom he opened his heart with a most unreserved freedom and confidence, the sweetest gift of friendship!" It would appear that, in the case of Jonson, words and actions lost their usual import, and that the blackest perfidy, when directed against him, suddenly changed into kindness and liberality.

The words put into Drummond's mouth do not, indeed, belong to him. Of this, however, the critics, who trusted merely to Shiels, and quote a work which they never saw, were gnorant. No matter; there is still enough to justify the rhapsody on the "sweets of friendship"! It must not be concealed, however, that there have been persons free enough to question the purity of Drummond's conduct, and that even the wretched scribbler who interpolated the passage cannot avoid saying, "We have inserted Ben's conversations, though, perhaps, it was not altogether fair of Mr. Drummond to commit to writing things that passed over a bottle, and which perhaps were heedlessly advanced. As few people are so wise as no^ to speak imprudently sometimes, it is not the part of a man who invites another to his table to expose what may drop inadvertently."— Cib., Lives, vol. i. p. 310. This gentle reproof from Lauder the second is extremely pleasant; perhaps it was a compunctious visiting! Mr. A. Chalmers, too, has an awkward observation. Drummond's return (he says) to the unreserved conduct of Jonson "has been thought not very liberal." Is it possible! Fie, fie! Not very liberal!" To do Mr. Chalmers justice, he has no doubts of this kind himself; in tenderness, however, to those who have, he suggests that this suspicion of illiberality is considerably lessened, when we reflect that Drummond appears not to have intended to publish his remarks," &c. Mr. Chalmers never heard, perhaps, of a legacy of half a crown left to a hungry Scotsman to fire off a pistol, which the ruffian, who loaded and levelled it, had not the courage to discharge. At any rate, he seems to think that there is nothing unusual or improper in framing a libellous attack on the character and reputation of a friend, keeping it carefully in store for thirty years, and finally bequeathing it, fairly engrossed, to the caprice or cupidity of an executor !

The parting scene at Hawthornden was undoubtedly tender; for Drummond, who had hitherto concealed his malice, was too practised an artificer of fraud, to pull off the mask at such a moment. Ben, therefore, who saw no more than his enemies were pleased to expose to his view, went on his way with a heart overflowing with respect and gratitude, while his host, with a hand yet warm from the pressure of affection, retired to his closet, and having thanked God that he was not a “drunkard,” a “dissembler,” a “ braggard," as other men were, or even one "that interpreted best deeds and sayings to the worst," like this Jonson, sat complacently down to destroy his character (as he fondly hoped) forever.

Jonson reached London in the beginning of May, and soon after despatched the following letter:

"To my worthy, honored, and beloved friend, Mr. W. Drummond.

Most loving" (poor Jonson !)" and beloved sir, against which titles I should most knowingly offend, if I made you not some account of myself, to come even with your friendship. I am arrived safely, with a most Catholic welcome, and my reports not unacceptable to his majesty. He professed (thank God) some joy to see me, and is pleased to hear of the purpose of my book; to which I most carnestly solicit you for your promise of the inscriptions at Pinky, some things concerning the Loch of Lomond, touching the government of Edinburgh, to urge Mr. James Scot, and what else you can procure for me with all speed. Though these requests be full of trouble, I hope they shall neither burden nor weary such a friendship, whose commands to me I will ever interpret a pleasure. News we have none here, but what is

and who drew up the account of his life, expressly say that Jonson staid with him about three weeks! He arrived (p. 40) at Hawthornden in the beginning of April, 1619, and left it, on his return to London, about the end of the same month [See additional note, p. 40. — A. DYCE.]

1 Full justice will not be done to the niceness of Mr. Chalmers's feelings, on this point, unless we call to mind that he expressly includes the ribaldry of Shiels in Drummond's sketch of Jonson's character.

2 I will help Mr. Chalmers to Chetwood's opinion on the subject: "This false friend (Drummond) durst not have declared his vile sentiments had our author been alive to answer him; I look, therefore, upon all that he has brought against him as the malice and envy of a bad heart."— Life of Junson, p. 55.

3 The "Discovery," (p. 35,) which was to contain the Description of Scotland, with the Episode of his “Journov

making against the Queen's funeral,' whereof I have somewhat in hand which shall look upor you with the next. Salute the beloved Fentons, the Nisbets, the Scots, the Levingstons, and all the honest and honored names with you, especially Mr. James Wroth, his wife, your sister, C. And if you forget yourself, you believe not in

"Your most true friend and lover,

"BEN JONSON.

.

London, May 10th, 1619."

The answer to this does not appear; but a second letter, which Drummond sent in conse quence of another application from our author, begins thus:

"WORTHY FRIEND:

"The uncertainty of your abode was the cause of my silence. I have adventured this packet upon hopes that a man so famous cannot be in any place either of the city or court," where he shall not be found out. In my last (the missing letter) I sent you a description of Loch Lomond, with a map of Inch-merionach, which may, by your book, be made most famous," &c. July 1, 1619.

We hear nothing further of Drummond till the end of this year, when he addressed another letter "to his worthy friend, Master Ben Jonson."

"SIR: Here you have that epigram which you desired (p. 692) with another of the like argument. If there be any other thing in this country which my power can reach, command it; there is nothing I wish more than to be in the catalogue of them that love you. I have heard from court that the late masque was not so approved of the king, as in former times, and that your absence was regretted. Such applause hath true worth even of those who are otherwise not

5

for it. Thus, to the next occasion, taking my leave, I remain

Your loving friend,

W. D."

Enough of Drummond, with whose "friendship" for our author the common sense of the reader will, I trust, be no longer insulted, except from the lips of hopeless idiotism manantia labra saliva.

- longa

"Crowned with the favor of his sovereign, Jonson saw (say the writers of the Bio. Brit.) the most distinguished wits of his time crowding his train, and courting his acquaintance; and in this spirit he was invited to Christ Church by Dr. Corbet, then senior student of that college." Here, Wood tells us, he continued some time writing and composing of plays, and

thither," &c. This passage is worthy of notice, as it incidentally shows the estimation in which Jonson was held by James. Those who so readily condemn him to poverty and obscurity are little aware, perhaps, that for the space of twenty years, he was associated with all that was noble, or great, or virtuous, or wise. The implicit believers in the commentators on our great poet are in too forlorn a state of imbecility to encourage any hopes of returning reason; but there are others who may one day be expected to discover that there are better authorities for a Life of Jonson than Captain Tucca, Will. Kempe, and Shiels, the Scotsman.

1 Ann died in March. The poein which Jonson wrote on the occasion is lost.

2 Jonson had left London towards the end of May, and was, at this time, residing at Christ Church, Oxford, with hin true friend, Corbet (afterwards Bishop of Norwich) and others of that college.

* [Gifford was not aware that the date of this letter is "January 17, 1619." See Mr. D. Laing's Preface to Notes of B. Jonson's Conversations, &c., p. ix. A. DYCE.]

4 Hypocrite to the last! What, the "liar," the "drunkard," the "atheist"! This is almost too much. A volunta:7 piunge in infamy was by no means necessary here: it was not your credulous correspondent (whoever else it might be) taat "interpreted best sayings and deeds to the worst."

5 I know not who was called in to supply the place of Jonson during his northern tour. The king was grown somewhat fastidious perhaps after those exquisite Entertainments, the Vision of Delight, and Pleasure reconciled to Virtue; and talents of no ordinary kind might have fallen short of their excellences, without much injury to the possessor's reputa tion.

"Thus, (exclaims Mr. Headley,) Jonson was rescued from the arms of a sister university who had long treated the Muses with indignity. We do not find that Ben expressed any regret at the change of situation; companions whoss minds and pursuits were similar to his own were not always to be found in the gross atmosphere of the muddy Cam, though easily met with on the more genial banks of the Isis."-Beauties of English Poetry, p. xxxviii. Mr. Headley was

was created Master of Arts, (July 19,) 1619. The historian is wrong in the first part of his ussertion. Jonson certainly "composed no plays at Oxford or elsewhere. This was a labor from which he always delighted to escape, and he was now in such a comparative state of affluence as to justify his indulging in pursuits more congenial to his feelings.

Several of

an ingenious young man; but like other ingenious young men, talked sometimes of what he did not understand. He is so ignorant of Jonson's history as to suppose that he was then resident at Cambridge - this, however, may be easily overlooked; but his attempt to implicate the poet in his personal quarrels, in his splenetic and vulgar abuse of Cambridge, merits castigation. Jonson neither felt nor expressed any disrespect to Cambridge. In the Dedication of the Fox to both universities, he calls them "most noble and most equal sisters ;" and mentions, in terms of respectful gratitude, his obligations to their " favor and affection." From this language he never varied; and, unfortunately for Mr. Headley, Cambridge, which had also conferred on him a Master of Arts degree, was fondly remembered by him to the last.*

This critic, as might reasonably be expected, entertains a supreme contempt for Jonson's writings, of which he manifests a surprising knowledge! "While Drayton (he says) was adopting a style that the present age may peruse, &c., Jonson" (who is always the victim) "unable to digest the mass of his reading, peopled his pages with the heathen mythology," p. lii. Mr. Headley had evidently heard " of Jonson's learning;" the rest followed of course. But how stands the Sact? That of all the writers for the stage, from old Heywood to Sir Aston Cockayne inclusive, there is not one whose pages are so free from fable as Jonson's. I will venture to affirm that more of the heathen mythology may be found in a single scene, nay, in a single speech, of Shakspeare, Fletcher, Massinger, and Shirley, than in the whole of Jonson's thirteen comedies. Nothing is so remarkable as his rigid exclusion of the deities of Greece and Rome. Neither as embellishments nor illustrations do they appear in his pages; yet Mr. Headley (and he is not singular, or I should have left him to his folly) assumes, as the distinguishing characteristic of the author, that they are peopled with them!

But Mr. Headley's candor is as conspicuous as his knowledge. "A strong and original vein of humor (he says) is Ben's peculiar forte; take away that, and he is undeserving of the fame he has attained"!— Ibid. It was well observed by the French tailor, upon the magnificent view from Richmond Hill, “All this is very fine, to be sure; but take away the river and the trees, and it will be nothing"!

1 "Both inclination and ambition (say the writers of the Bio. Brit.) concurred in prompting Jonson to turn from Masques and Entertainments to the graver and weightier works of the drama." This, (which is reëchoed by all his biographers,) like every thing else respecting him, is said at random. "Ambition" was on the side of the Masques --and with regard to his "inclination for the drama," he expressly declares that he had it not. These gentlemen, how ever, are so pleased with their observation, that they repeat it on the production of the New Ian; to the writing of which he was driven by absolute want. So much is said of our author, and so little known!

I have, on several occasions, noted the little pleasure which Jonson apparently took in writing for the stage; but I hardly expected so decisive a proof of it as has reached me since this note was put to the press. The ever active kindness of Mr. D'Israeli has just furnished me with the following letter. It was found among the Hatfield state papers by Dr Birch, who was preparing a selection of them for the press, when he was interrupted by his last illness.

The letter is inscribed-" Ben Jonson to the Earl of Salisbury, praying his lordship's protection against some evil reports." It shows (what indeed every circumstance of his life proves) that he was high spirited, dauntless; confident in his worth, more confident in his innocence; complaining, when wronged, with dignity, and soliciting, when aflicted, with decorum.

The theatrical records of these times are so imperfect, that the circumstance and the play to which our author alludes are equally obscure. It would seem that not long after his release, (in the beginning of 1605,) he was accused of reflecting on some one in a play written by Chapman and himself, and again imprisoned with his friend. It would be vain to indulge in further conjecture. There are many points of similarity between the letter and the dedication of the Fox, which may be consulted with advantage. The letter itself is truly admirable, and well deserved the success which, we know, from collateral circumstances, it instantly found. I rejoice in its preservation, and transcribe it with pleasure.

"Most truly honorable:

1605. "It hath still been the tyranny of my fortune so to oppress my endeavors that before I can show myself grateful in the least for former benefits, I am enforced to provoke your bounties for more. May it not seem grievous to your lordship that now my innocence calls upon you (next the Deity) to her defence. God himself is not averted at just men's cries; and you that approach that divine goodness, and supply it here on earth in your places and honors, cannot employ your aid more worthily than to the common succor of honesty and virtue, how humbly soever it be placed.

"I am here, my most honored lord, unexamined and unheard, committed to a vile prison, and with me a gentleman, (whose name may, perhaps, have come to your lordship,) one Mr. George Chapman, a learned and honest man. The cause (would I could name some worthier, though I wish we had known none worthy our imprisonment) is (the words irk me that our fortune hath necessitated us to so despised a course) a play, my lord; whereof we hope there is no man

* When Dr. Birch was writing the life of Jonson for the Gen. Dict., folio, 1738, he applied to a member of St. John's College for information respecting the residence of the poet, &c. This person procured several memoranda for his use, from the learned T. Baker, one of the fellows. The last of them runs thus: "Mr. Baker adds that there has always been a tradition handed down, that he was of our college. The registrar tells me that there are several books in our library' with Ben Jonson's name, given by him to the college; particularly an ancient edition of Aristotle's Works."

It is observable that this life of Jonson is entirely free from the deplorable raving about the poet's envy, &c., which dis gricos all the subsequent accounts. Birch could not forge, and he would not calumniate.

his most beautiful masques were, however, composed about this period, both for the nobility and the court, as well as some of those pieces which are mentioned in the Execration on Vulcan, and which were destroyed together with his study. There perished his Commentary on the Poetics, his Grammar complete, of which we have now but the fragments, his Journey into Scotland, his May Lord, and several other dramas. There too were lost the unfinished Life of Henry V.,' the Rape of Proserpine, the poem in celebration of the Ladies of Great Britain, to which he more than once alludes, and what, perhaps, we ought to regret more than all, a vast body of philological collections, with notes from the classics, the fruit of twenty years' laborious study.

It is probable that Jonson spent much of his time at the country seats of the nobility and gentry, as he has allusions to several visits of this kind; and we know that he attended on the court in some of the royal progresses." He was at Burleigh on the Hill, and at Belvoir Castle, and at Windsor when his Masque of the Gipsies Metamorphosed was performed at these places, respectively, and introduced several little compliments into the piece, as new candidates arrived, and claimed admission into the list of the Dramatis Persona. He must also have been at Newmarket with the court, where his masques were occasionally represented.

While he was on these progresses, he obtained from his majesty, who seems to have been unusually pleased with the Masque of Gipsies, in which he bore a part, a reversionary grant of the office of Master of the Revels. The king, by letters patent, dated Oct. 5, 1621, granted him, by the style and addition of "our beloved servant, Benjamin Jonson, gentleman, the said office, to be held and enjoyed by him and his assigns, during his life, from and after the death of Sir George Buc, and Sir John Astley, or as soon as the office should become vacant by resignation, forfeiture, or surrender." 3 In contemplation, perhaps, of his speedy accession to

can justly complain that hath the virtue to think but favorably of himself, if our judge bring an equal ear; marry, if with prejudice we be made guilty afore our time, we must embrace the asinine virtue patience. My noble lord, they deal not charitably who are witty in another man's works, and utter sometimes their own malicious meanings under our words. I protest to your honor, and call God to testimony, (since my first error,* which, yet, is punished in me more with my shame than it was then with my bondage,) I have so attempered my style, that I have given no cause to any good man of grief; and if to any ill, by touching at any general vice, it hath always been with a regard and sparing of particular persons. I may be otherwise reported; but if all that be accused should be presently guilty, there are few men would stand in the state of innocence.

"I beseech your most honorable lordship, suffer not other men's errors or faults past to be made my crimes; but let me be examined both by all my works past and this present; and not trust to rumor but my books, (for she is an unjust deliverer both of great and of small actions,) whether I have ever (many things I have written private or public) given offence to a nation, to a public order or state, or any person of honor or authority; but have equally labored to keep their dignity, as mine own person, safe. If others have transgressed, let me not be entitled to their follies. But lest, in being too dili gent for my excuse, I may incur the suspicion of being guilty, I become a most humble suitor to your lordship that with the honorable lord chamberlain,† (to whom I have in like manner petitioned,) you will be pleased to be the grateful means of our coming to answer; or if in your wisdoms it shall be thought necessary, that your lordship will be the most honored cause of our liberty, where freeing us from one prison you will remove us to another; which is eternally to bind us and our muses to the thankful honoring of you and yours to posterity, as your own virtues have by many descents of ancestors ennobled you to time. Your honor's most devoted in heart as words,

"To the most nobly virtuous and thrice honored Earl of Salisbury. 1605."

BEN JONSON.

1 Henry V.] In this history, Jonson tells us, in one of his most popular poems, he was assisted by Cotton, Carew, and Selden: yet Mr. A. Chalmers gives this rare intelligence solely on the authority of Oldys! "See," he says, " Oldys's manuscript notes to Langbaine in Brit. Mus."

* On one of these occasions he had an opportunity of serving Selden, who had grievously offended James by the indi rect tendency of his arguments on the divine right of tithes. "The storm was blown over," his biographer says, "by the interest of his friend Ben Jonson with the king." Fresh offence, however, was taken soon afterwards, and Selden was summoned to Theobald's, where his majesty then was, on his return from Newmarket. "Not being as yet acquainted with the court or with the king, he got Master Ben Jonson, who was then at Theobald's, to introduce him."— Life of Seiden. The steadiness of our author's friendship calls for no remark: it was a part of his character; but it should not be omitted that Selden, who is expressly declared, by his biographers, "to be, in 1618, yet unacquainted with the court," is said, by all the writers of Jonson's life, to have procured the poet's release from imprisonment by his interest there, in 1605!

3 Shak., vol. i. p. 626. Mr. Malone observes that "it would appear from a passage in the Satiromastiz, that Ben had * In Eastward Hoe! See p. 28.

Toinas, Earl of Suffolk. Jonson was not unmindful of his kindness See p. 670.

this office, James was desirous of conferring upon him the honor of knighthood. Jonson, for whom wealth and title had no charms, and who was well aware that a distinction of this nature would exasperate the envy which pursued him from his carliest years, shrunk from the meditated kindness of his sovereign, and prevailed on some of his friends about the court to dissuade his royal master from his purpose.'

Jonson received no advantage from the grant specified above, as Sir J. Astley survived him. It appears, however, that, finding himself incapable, during his last illness, of performing the duties of the office, supposing it to devolve upon him, he had been graciously permitted by Charles to transfer the patent to his son, who died in 1635. Why Mr. Malone should suppose Shak. vol. ii. p. 311) that he was not on good terms with his father, I cannot tell. Fuller only says that Jonson "was not very happy in his children;" but an indulgent and tender parent like Jonson may be sensibly afflicted by the conduct of a child, without much diminution of affection, or interruption of kindness.

From 1621, when the Gipsies Metamorphosed was performed at Windsor, Jonson continued, apparently, to pass his time greatly to his satisfaction. Every Twelfth-night produced a masque; and visits to his friends, correspondence with the literati of this and other countries, and occasional pieces of poetry filled up the rest of his time. Mr. Malone, who, from his crazy tripod, pronounces that Jonson had "stalked for two centuries on the stilts of artificial reputation," was little aware, perhaps, of the extent of his acquaintance with the learned, and of the estimation in which they held his talents; at any rate, the following passage from the Geneva edit. of Farnaby's Martial (and I could produce many such) must have escaped his knowledge:

"Martialem solum à clariss. viro Petro Scriverio emendatum editumque desiderabam, quem nulla mea aut amicorum cura parare potuit; cujus tamen vicem non rarò supplevit amica opera BEN JONSONII viri (quod quæ ille per ludum scripserit, serid legentibus liquido apparebit) in poetis omnibus versatissimi, historiarum, morum, rituum, antiquitatum indagatoris exquisitissimi, et (quod semper in illo adverti) non contenti brachio levi tesqua et dignos vindice nodos transmittere, sed penitissimos usque sensus ratione, lectione, ingenio eruere desudantis; digni denique (utcunque à probatis merito probetur suo) meliori theatro quam quo malevolorum invidiam pascat, quanquam et hoc regium est posse invidium cùm mereri tum pati. Ille, inquam, mihi emendationes aliquot suppeditavit ex C. V. Scriverii Martiale, cujus copia illi facta Lugduni Bat. a viro non sine doctrinæ et humanitatis honorifica præfatione nominando Dan Heinsio, &c." 4

3

inade some attempts to procure the reversion of this place before the death of Elizabeth." Mr. Malone is unquestionably right; though he has failed to draw from it the only proper conclusion—namely, that at this period Jonson was neither so obscure nor so unfriended as he would have us believe.

1 “A friend told me this Faire time (Stourbridge) that Ben Jonson was not knighted, but scaped it narrowly, for that his majestie would have done it, had there not been means made (himself not unwilling) to avoyd it. Sep. 15, 1621." Extracted from a letter of the celebrated Joseph Mead of C. Col. Cambridge to Sir Martin Stuteville. Baker's MSS., vol. xxxii. p. 355. Sir M. Stuteville was a friend and admirer of Jonson. One of his family has some verses on the poet's death, preserved among the Ashmole papers. They are kind and laudatory, but merit no particular notice.

2 He is said to have assisted Middleton and Fletcher in writing The Widow, which must have appeared about this time This comedy was very popular, and not undeservedly, for it has a considerable degree of merit. I cannot, however, discover many traces of Jonson in it. The authors' names rest, I believe, on the authority of the editor, A. Gough, who sent the play to the press in 1652.

This learned man, we see, notices the malevolence which incessantly pursued Jonson on the stage. We now hear of nothing but Jonson's envy: those who lived and conversed with him speak of the envy of others. It was then the lowest description of scribblers which persecuted him; and I should wrong the modesty of those who abuse him now, if ! 'crmed them the lights of the age.

4 Jonson presented a copy of this edit. to Mr. Briggs, (probably a relation of the celebrated mathematician,) with the ollowing letter written on a blank leaf:

"AMICO SUMMO

D.

R. BRIGGESTO.

Eccum, tibi librum, mi Briggesie, quem heri, pene cum conritio, a me eflagitasti, mitto. Voluit ad te afferri etiam hodie ne diutivès moratus, me læsi officii reum apud te faceret. Est Farnabii mei Martialis. Non ille Jesuitarum castratus, eviratus, et prorsus sine Martiali Martialis. Iste illum integrum tibi virumque præbet, nec minus castum sed magis virilem. Annotationes ctiam suas apposuit, tales autem ut videri possit sine commentario, commentator. Tu fac ut illam perlegas