Isaac Disraeli - Curiosities of Literature, Vol. II (of 3)

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CURIOSITIES OF LITERATURE.

BY

ISAAC DISRAELI.

A New Edition

EDITED, WITH MEMOIR AND NOTES,

BY HIS SON,

THE EARL OF BEACONSFIELD.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. II.

LONDON: FREDERICK WARNE AND CO. AND NEW YORK

CONTENTS OF VOLUME II.

CHARLES THE FIRST. 1

DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. 5

THE DEATH OF CHARLES IX. 7

ROYAL PROMOTIONS. 10

NOBILITY 11

MODES OF SALUTATION, AND AMICABLE CEREMONIES, OBSERVED IN
VARIOUS NATIONS. 12

FIRE, AND THE ORIGIN OF FIREWORKS. 15

THE BIBLE PROHIBITED AND IMPROVED. 19

ORIGIN OF THE MATERIALS OF WRITING. 23

ANECDOTES OF EUROPEAN MANNERS. 30

THE EARLY DRAMA. 40

THE MARRIAGE OF THE ARTS. 43

A CONTRIVANCE IN DRAMATIC DIALOGUE. 47

THE COMEDY OF A MADMAN. 48

SOLITUDE 50

LITERARY FRIENDSHIPS. 55

ANECDOTES OF ABSTRACTION OF MIND. 59

RICHARDSON. 62

INFLUENCE OF A NAME. 65

THE JEWS OF YORK. 75

THE SOVEREIGNTY OF THE SEAS. 79

ON THE CUSTOM OF KISSING HANDS. 81

POPES. 83

LITERARY COMPOSITION. 85

POETICAL IMITATIONS AND SIMILARITIES. 92

EXPLANATION OF THE FAC-SIMILE. 110

LITERARY FASHIONS. 113

THE PANTOMIMICAL CHARACTERS. 116

EXTEMPORAL COMEDIES. 130

MASSINGER, MILTON, AND THE ITALIAN THEATRE. 137

SONGS OF TRADES, OR SONGS FOR THE PEOPLE. 142

INTRODUCERS OF EXOTIC FLOWERS, FRUITS, ETC. 151

USURERS OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 158

CHIDIOCK TITCHBOURNE. 171

ELIZABETH AND HER PARLIAMENT. 179

ANECDOTES OF PRINCE HENRY, THE SON OF JAMES I., WHEN A
CHILD. 186

THE DIARY OF A MASTER OF THE CEREMONIES. 194

DIARIES--MORAL, HISTORICAL, AND CRITICAL. 206

LICENSERS OF THE PRESS. 216

OF ANAGRAMS AND ECHO VERSES. 229

ORTHOGRAPHY OF PROPER NAMES. 237

NAMES OF OUR STREETS. 239

SECRET HISTORY OF EDWARD VERE, EARL OF OXFORD. 243

ANCIENT COOKERY, AND COOKS. 245

ANCIENT AND MODERN SATURNALIA. 256

RELIQUIAE GETHINIANAE. 270

ROBINSON CRUSOE. 274

CATHOLIC AND PROTESTANT DRAMAS. 277

THE HISTORY OF THE THEATRE DURING ITS SUPPRESSION. 281

DRINKING-CUSTOMS IN ENGLAND. 292

LITERARY ANECDOTES. 300

CONDEMNED POETS. 303

ACAJOU AND ZIRPHILE. 308

TOM O'BEDLAMS. 311

INTRODUCTION OF TEA, COFFEE, AND CHOCOLATE. 317

CHARLES THE FIRST'S LOVE OF THE FINE ARTS. 326

SECRET HISTORY OF CHARLES THE FIRST, AND HIS QUEEN HENRIETTA. 836

THE MINISTER--THE CARDINAL DUKE OF RICHELIEU. 340

THE MINISTER--DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, LORD ADMIRAL, LORD
GENERAL, &C., &C., &C. 355

FELTON, THE POLITICAL ASSASSIN. 371

JOHNSON'S HINTS FOR THE LIFE OF POPE. 380

MODERN LITERATURE--BAYLE'S CRITICAL DICTIONARY. 382

CHARACTERISTICS OF BAYLE. 383

CICERO VIEWED AS A COLLECTOR. 396

THE HISTORY OF THE CARACCI. 399

AN ENGLISH ACADEMY OF LITERATURE. 406

QUOTATION. 416

THE ORIGIN OF DANTE'S INFERNO. 421

OF A HISTORY OF EVENTS WHICH HAVE NOT HAPPENED. 428

OF FALSE POLITICAL REPORTS. 438

OF SUPPRESSORS AND DILAPIDATORS OF MANUSCRIPTS. 443

PARODIES. 453

ANECDOTES OF THE FAIRFAX FAMILY. 461

MEDICINE AND MORALS. 464

PSALM-SINGING. 472

ON THE RIDICULOUS TITLES ASSUMED BY ITALIAN ACADEMIES. 479

ON THE HERO OF HUDIBRAS; BUTLER VINDICATED. 491

SHENSTONE'S SCHOOL-MISTRESS. 496

BEN JONSON ON TRANSLATION. 500

THE LOVES OF "THE LADY ARABELLA." 502

DOMESTIC HISTORY OF SIR EDWARD COKE. 519

OF COKE'S STYLE, AND HIS CONDUCT. 530

SECRET HISTORY OF AUTHORS WHO HAVE RUINED THEIR BOOKSELLERS. 532

CURIOSITIES OF LITERATURE.

CHARLES THE FIRST.

Of his romantic excursion into Spain for the Infanta, many curious
particulars are scattered amongst foreign writers, which display the
superstitious prejudices which prevailed on this occasion, and, perhaps,
develope the mysterious politics of the courts of Spain and Rome.

Cardinal Gaetano, who had long been nuncio in Spain, observes, that the
people, accustomed to revere the Inquisition as the oracle of divinity,
abhorred the proposal of the marriage of the Infanta with an heretical
prince; but that the king's council, and all wise politicians, were
desirous of its accomplishment. Gregory XV. held a consultation of
cardinals, where it was agreed that the just apprehension which the
English catholics entertained of being more cruelly persecuted, if this
marriage failed, was a sufficient reason to justify the pope. The
dispensation was therefore immediately granted, and sent to the nuncio
of Spain, with orders to inform the Prince of Wales, in case of rupture,
that no impediment of the marriage proceeded from the court of Rome,
who, on the contrary, had expedited the dispensation.

The prince's excursion to Madrid was, however, universally blamed, as
being inimical to state interests. Nani, author of a history of Venice,
which, according to his digressive manner, is the universal history of
his times, has noticed this affair. "The people talked, and the English
murmured more than any other nation, to see the only son of the king and
heir of his realms venture on so long a voyage, and present himself
rather as a hostage, than a husband to a foreign court, which so widely
differed in government and religion, to obtain by force of prayer and
supplications a woman whom Philip and his ministers made a point of
honour and conscience to refuse."[1]

Houssaie observes, "The English council were against it, but king James
obstinately resolved on it; being over-persuaded by Gondomar, the
Spanish ambassador, whose facetious humour and lively repartees greatly
delighted him. Gondomar persuaded him that the presence of the prince
would not fail of accomplishing this union, and also the restitution of
the electorate to his son-in-law the palatine. Add to this, the Earl of
Bristol, the English ambassador-extraordinary at the court of Madrid,
finding it his interest, wrote repeatedly to his majesty that the
success was certain if the prince came there, for that the Infanta would
be charmed with his personal appearance and polished manners. It was
thus that James, seduced by these two ambassadors, and by his parental
affection for both his children, permitted the Prince of Wales to travel
into Spain." This account differs from Clarendon.

Wicquefort says, "that James in all this was the dupe of Gondomar, who
well knew the impossibility of this marriage, which was alike inimical
to the interests of politics and the Inquisition. For a long time he
amused his majesty with hopes, and even got money for the household
expenses of the future queen. He acted his part so well, that the King
of Spain recompensed the knave, on his return, with a seat in the
council of state." There is preserved in the British Museum a
considerable series of letters which passed between James I. and the
Duke of Buckingham and Charles, during their residence in Spain.

I shall glean some further particulars concerning this mysterious affair
from two English contemporaries, Howel and Wilson, who wrote from their
own observations. Howel had been employed in this projected match, and
resided during its negotiation at Madrid.

Howel describes the first interview of Prince Charles and the Infanta.
"The Infanta wore a blue riband about her arm, that the prince might
distinguish her, and as soon as she saw the prince her colour rose very
high."--Wilson informs us that "two days after this interview the prince
was invited to run at the ring, where his fair mistress was a spectator,
and to the glory of his fortune, and the great contentment both of
himself and the lookers-on, he took the ring the very first course."
Howel, writing from Madrid, says, "The people here do mightily magnify
the gallantry of the journey, and cry out that he deserved to have the
Infanta thrown into his arms the first night he came." The people
appear, however, some time after, to doubt if the English had any
religion at all. Again, "I have seen the prince have his eyes immovably
fixed upon the Infanta half an hour together in a thoughtful speculative
posture." Olivares, who was no friend to this match, coarsely observed
that the prince watched her as a cat does a mouse. Charles indeed acted
everything that a lover in one of the old romances could have done.[2]
He once leapt over the walls of her garden, and only retired by the
entreaties of the old marquis who then guarded her, and who, falling on
his knees, solemnly protested that if the prince spoke to her his head
would answer for it. He watched hours in the street to meet with her;
and Wilson says he gave such liberal presents to the court, as well as
Buckingham to the Spanish beauties, that the Lord Treasurer Middlesex
complained repeatedly of their wasteful prodigality.[3]

Let us now observe by what mode this match was consented to by the
courts of Spain and Rome. Wilson informs us that Charles agreed "That
any one should freely propose to _him_ the arguments in favour of the
catholic religion, without giving any impediment; but that he would
never, directly or indirectly, permit any one to speak to the _Infanta_
against the same." They probably had tampered with Charles concerning
his religion. A letter of Gregory XV. to him is preserved in Wilson's
life, but its authenticity has been doubted. Olivares said to
Buckingham, "You gave me some assurance and hope of the prince's
_turning catholic_." The duke roundly answered that it was false. The
Spanish minister, confounded at the bluntness of our English duke, broke
from him in a violent rage, and lamented that state matters would not
suffer him to do himself justice. This insult was never forgiven; and
some time afterwards he attempted to revenge himself on Buckingham, by
endeavouring to persuade James that he was at the head of a conspiracy
against him.

We hasten to conclude these anecdotes, not to be found in the pages of
Hume and Smollett.--Wilson says that both kingdoms
rejoiced:--"Preparations were made in England to entertain the Infanta;
a new church was built at St. James's, the foundation-stone of which was
laid by the Spanish ambassador, for the public exercise of her religion:
her portrait was multiplied in every corner of the town; such as hoped
to flourish under her eye suddenly began to be powerful. In Spain (as
Wilson quaintly expresses himself) the substance was as much courted as
the shadow here. Indeed the Infanta, Howel tells us, was applying hard
to the English language, and was already called the Princess of England.
To conclude,--Charles complained of the repeated delays; and he and the
Spanish court parted with a thousand civilities. The Infanta however
observed, that had the Prince loved her, he would not have quitted her."

How shall we dispel those clouds of mystery with which politics have
covered this strange transaction? It appears that James had in view the
restoration of the palatinate to his daughter, whom he could not
effectually assist; that the court of Rome had speculations of the most
dangerous tendency to the protestant religion; that the marriage was
broken off by that personal hatred which existed between Olivares and
Buckingham; and that, if there was any sincerity existing between the
parties concerned, it rested with the Prince and the Infanta, who were
both youthful and romantic, and were but two beautiful ivory balls in
the hands of great players.

DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.

The Duke of Buckingham, in his bold and familiar manner, appears to have
been equally a favourite with James I. and Charles I. He behaved with
singular indiscretion both at the courts of France and Spain.

Various anecdotes might be collected from the memoir writers of those
countries, to convince us that our court was always little respected by
its ill choice of this ambassador. His character is hit off by one
master-stroke from the pencil of Hume: "He had," says this penetrating
observer of men, "English familiarity and French levity;" so that he was
in full possession of two of the most offensive qualities an ambassador
can possess.

Sir Henry Wotton has written an interesting life of our duke. At school
his character fully discovered itself, even at that early period of
life. He would not apply to any serious studies, but excelled in those
lighter qualifications adapted to please in the world. He was a graceful
horseman, musician, and dancer. His mother withdrew him from school at
the early age of thirteen, and he soon became a domestic favourite. Her
fondness permitted him to indulge in every caprice, and to cultivate
those agreeable talents which were natural to him. His person was
beautiful, and his manners insinuating. In a word, he was adapted to
become a courtier. The fortunate opportunity soon presented itself; for
James saw him, and invited him to court, and showered on him, with a
prodigal hand, the cornucopia of royal patronage.

Houssaie, in his political memoirs, has detailed an anecdote of this
duke, only known to the English reader in the general observation of the
historian. When he was sent to France, to conduct the Princess Henrietta
to the arms of Charles I., he had the insolence to converse with the
Queen of France, not as an ambassador, but as a lover! The Marchioness
of Senecy, her lady of honour, enraged at seeing this conversation
continue, seated herself in the arm-chair of the Queen, who that day was
confined to her bed; she did this to hinder the insolent duke from
approaching the Queen, and probably taking other liberties. As she
observed that he still persisted in the lover, "Sir," she said, in a
severe tone of voice, "you must learn to be silent; it is not thus we
address the Queen of France."

This audacity of the duke is further confirmed by Nani, in his sixth
book of the History of Venice; an historian who is not apt to take
things lightly. For when Buckingham was desirous of once more being
ambassador at that court, in 1626, it was signified by the French
ambassador, that for reasons _well known to himself_, his person would
not be agreeable to his most Christian majesty. In a romantic threat,
the duke exclaimed, he would go and see the queen in spite of the French
court; and to this petty affair is to be ascribed the war between the
two nations!

The Marshal de Bassompiere, in the journal of his embassy, affords
another instance of his "English familiarity." He says, "The King of
England gave me a long audience, and a very disputatious one. He put
himself in a passion, while I, without losing my respect, expressed
myself freely. The Duke of Buckingham, when he observed the king and
myself very warm, leapt suddenly betwixt his majesty and me, exclaiming,
'I am come to set all to rights betwixt you, which I think is high
time.'"

Cardinal Richelieu hated Buckingham as sincerely as did the Spaniard
Olivares. This enmity was apparently owing to the cardinal writing to
the duke without leaving any space open after the title of Monsieur; the
duke, to show his equality, returned his answer in the same
"paper-sparing" manner. Richelieu was jealous of Buckingham, whose
favour with the Queen of France was known.

This ridiculous circumstance between Richelieu and Buckingham reminds me
of a similar one, which happened to two Spanish Lords:--One signed at
the end of his letter EL _Marques_ (THE _Marquis_), as if the title had
been peculiar to himself for its excellence. His national vanity
received a dreadful reproof from his correspondent, who, jealous of his
equality, signed OTRO _Marqies_ (ANOTHER _Marquis_).

An anecdote given by Sir Henry Wotton offers a characteristic trait of
Charles and his favourite:--

"They were now entered into the deep time of Lent, and could get no
flesh into their inns; whereupon fell out a pleasant passage (if I may
insert it by the way among more serious):--There was near Bayon a herd
of goats with their young ones; on which sight Sir Richard Graham
(master of the horse to the marquis) tells the marquis he could snap one
of the kids, and make some shift to carry him close to their lodgings;
which the prince overhearing, 'Why, Richard,' says he, 'do you think you
may practise here your old tricks again upon the borders?' Upon which
word they first gave the goatherd good contentment, and then while the
marquis and his servant, being both on foot, were chasing the kid about
the flock, the prince from horseback killed him in the head with a
Scottish pistol. Let this serve for a journal parenthesis, which yet may
show how his highness, even in such light and sportful damage, had a
noble sense of just dealing."

THE DEATH OF CHARLES IX.

Dr. Cayet is an old French controversial writer, but is better known in
French literature as an historian. His _Chronologie Novenaire_ is full
of anecdotes unknown to other writers. He collected them from his own
observations, for he was under-preceptor to Henry IV. The dreadful
massacre of St. Bartholomew took place in the reign of Charles IX.; on
which occasion the English court went into mourning. The singular death
of Charles has been regarded by the Huguenots as an interposition of
divine justice: he died bathed in his blood, which burst from his veins.
The horrors of this miserable prince on his dying bed are forcibly
depicted by the anecdotes I am now collecting. I shall premise, however,
that Charles was a mere instrument in the hands of his mother, the
political and cruel Catherine of Medicis.

Dr. Cayet, with honest _naivete_, thus relates what he knew to have
passed a few hours before his death.

"King Charles, feeling himself near his end, after having passed some
time without pronouncing a word, said, as he turned himself on one side,
and as if he seemed to awake, 'Call my brother!' The queen mother was
present, who immediately sent for the Duke of Alencon. The king
perceiving him, turned his back, and again said, 'Let my brother come!'
The queen, his mother, replied, 'Sir, I do not know whom you mean; here
is your brother.' The king was displeased, and said, 'Let them bring my
brother the King of Navarre; it is he who is my brother.' The queen
mother observing the dying monarch's resolute order, sent for him; but,
for reasons known only to herself, she commanded the captain of the
guards to conduct him under the vaults. They went to the King of
Navarre, and desired him to come and speak to the king; at that moment,
this prince has since repeatedly said, he felt a shuddering and
apprehension of death so much that he would not go. But King Charles
persisting on his coming, the queen mother assured him that he should
receive no injury. In this promise, however, he put little trust. He
went, accompanied by the Viscount d'Auchy, on whose word he chiefly
relied. Having, however, observed under these vaults a great number of
halberdiers and arquebusiers in ranks, he would have returned, when the
viscount and the captain reassured him that no harm should happen to
him. The soldiers bowed, and their behaviour was respectful. By a
private staircase he entered the chamber of the king, who, immediately
on perceiving him, turned towards him, and stretched out his arms. The
King of Navarre was affected; he sighed and wept, and fell on his knees
at the side of the bed. Charles embraced, and having kissed him, said,
'My brother, you lose a good master and a good friend. I know it is not
you who occasions me so much trouble; had I believed what they said, you
would not have been alive; but I have always loved you. It is to you
alone I trust my wife and daughter; earnestly do I recommend them to
your care. _Do not trust the queen_; but God protect you!'

"The queen mother here interrupted him, 'Ah, sir, do not say
that!'--'Yes, madam, I must say it; it is the truth. Believe me, my
brother; love me; assist my wife and daughter, and implore God for mercy
on me. Adieu, my brother, adieu!' The King of Navarre remained till his
majesty expired."

The following minute particulars are drawn from the journal of Pierre de
L'Etoile. In the simplicity of his narration, so pleasing in the old
writers, the _nurse_ and the _monarch,_--the religious remorse of the
one, and the artless consolations of the other,--become interesting
objects.

"King Charles, two days before his death, having called for Mazzille,
his chief physician, and complaining of the pains he suffered, asked him
if it was not possible that he, and so many other celebrated physicians
that were in his realms, could give some alleviation to his disorder;
'for I am,' said he, 'cruelly and horridly tormented.' To which Mazzille
replied, that whatever had depended on them had been tried, but that in
truth God only could be the sovereign physician in such complaints. 'I
believe,' said the king, 'that what you say is true, and that you know
nothing else. Draw from me my _custode_ (or large cap), that I may try
to rest.' Mazzille withdrew, and left orders that all should leave the
king except three, viz., La Tour, St. Pris, and his nurse, whom his
majesty greatly loved, _although she was a Huguenot_. As she had just
seated herself on a coffer, and began to doze, she heard the king groan
bitterly, weeping and sighing; she then approached the bed softly, and
drawing away his _custode_, the king said to her, giving vent to a heavy
sigh, and shedding tears plentifully, insomuch that they interrupted his
discourse--'Ah! my dear nurse! my beloved woman, what blood! what
murders! Ah! I have followed wicked advice! O my God! pardon me, and be
merciful. I know not where I am, they have made me so perplexed and
agitated. How will all this end!--What shall I do? I am lost for ever! I
know it.'--Then the nurse thus addressed him:--'Sire, be the murders on
those who forced you to order them; your majesty could not help it, and
since you never consented, and now regret them, believe God will never
impute them to you, and will cover them with the mantle of justice of
his Son, to whom alone you should look for aid. Ah! for the honour of
God, let your majesty cease from this weeping.' Having said this, she
rose for a handkerchief, for his was drenched with tears: Charles having
taken it from her, made a sign that she should retire and leave him to
repose."

The dreadful narrative of the massacre of St. Bartholomew is detailed in
the history of De Thou; and the same scene is painted in glowing, though
in faithful colours, by Voltaire in the Henriade.--Charles, whose last
miserable moments we come from contemplating, when he observed several
fugitive Huguenots about his palace in the morning after the massacre of
30,000 of their friends, took a fowling-piece, and repeatedly fired at
them.

Such was the effect of religion operating, perhaps not on a malignant,
but on a feeble mind!

ROYAL PROMOTIONS.

If the golden gate of preferment is not usually opened to men of real
merit, persons of no worth have entered it in a most extraordinary
manner.

Chevreau informs us that the Sultan Osman having observed a gardener
planting a cabbage with some peculiar dexterity, the manner so attracted
his imperial eye that he raised him to an office near his person, and
shortly afterwards he rewarded the planter of cabbages by creating him
_beglerbeg_ or viceroy of the Isle of Cyprus.

Marc Antony gave the house of a Roman citizen to a cook, who had
prepared for him a good supper! Many have been raised to extraordinary
preferment by capricious monarchs for the sake of a jest. Lewis XI.
promoted a poor priest whom he found sleeping in the porch of a church,
that the proverb might be verified, that to lucky men good fortune will
come even when they are asleep! Our Henry VII. made a viceroy of Ireland
if not for the sake of, at least with a clench. When the king was told
that all Ireland could not rule the Earl of Kildare, he said, then shall
this earl rule all Ireland.

It is recorded of Henry VIII. that he raised a servant to a considerable
dignity because he had taken care to have a roasted boar prepared for
him, when his majesty happened to be in the humour of feasting on one!
and the title of _Sugar-loaf-court,_ in Leadenhall-street, was probably
derived from another piece of munificence of this monarch: the widow of
a Mr. Cornwallis was rewarded by the gift of a dissolved priory there
situated, for some _fine puddings_ with which she had presented his
majesty!

When Cardinal de Monte was elected pope, before he left the conclave, he
bestowed a cardinal's hat upon a servant, whose chief merit consisted in
the daily attentions he paid to his holiness's monkey!

Louis Barbier owed all his good fortune to the familiar knowledge he had
of Rabelais. He knew his Rabelais by heart. This served to introduce him
to the Duke of Orleans, who took great pleasure in reading that author.
It was for this he gave him an abbey, and he was gradually promoted till
he became a cardinal.