“The Countess of Ogle to her daughter, Elizabeth.
“1674(-5), March 24.” A letter of reprimand for ill behaviour and for “one of the unkindest, undutyfullest letters that ever was writ to a mother”.
That graceful epistle seems to have been written more than a year before Ogle’s letter to his father; but probably it had been provoked by the family habit of daughter-dealing.
The best short account of the life of the Duke and Duchess of Newcastle, after the Restoration, is to be found in Sir Egerton Brydges’s Preface to the Duchess’s “True Relation” of her own life.
“After the Restoration, peace and affluence once more shone upon them amid the long-lost domains of the Duke’s vast hereditary property. Welbeck opened her gates to her Lord; and the castles of the North received with joy their heroic chieftain, whose maternal ancestors, the baronial house of Ogle, had ruled over them for centuries in Northumberland. But Age had now made the Duke desirous only of repose; and her Grace, the faithful companion of his fallen fortunes, was little disposed to quit the luxurious quiet of rural grandeur, which was as soothing to her disposition, as it was concordant with her duty. To such a pair the noisy and intoxicated joy of a profligate Court would probably have been a thousand times more painful than all the wants of their late chilling, but calm, poverty. They came not, therefore, to palaces and levees; but amused themselves in the country with literature and the arts. This solitary state, this innocent magnificence, seems to have afforded contempt and jests to the sophisticated mob of dissolute wits, who crowded round King Charles II. These momentary buzzers in the artificial sunshine of the regal presence, probably thought that they, who having the power to mix with superior wealth, in the busy scenes of high life, could prefer the insipid charms of lonely Nature, were only fit to be the butt of their ridicule!”
All very true, except on one point. This account, as well as one or two other accounts, of the post-Restoration life of the Newcastles might lead a reader to suppose that during the latter part of their existence they never went to London. Any such supposition would be most erroneous. They may have gone there very seldom; but, when they did go, they took good care to make their presence felt. As Pepys will tell us in a later chapter, they made a great show of splendour, and the Duchess became the talk of the Town!
THE DUKE AND DUCHESS OF NEWCASTLE AND THEIR FAMILY
By Diepenbeck
Thus in this Semy-Circle wher they Sitt,
Telling of Tales of pleasure & of witt.
Heer you may read without a Sinn or Crime,
And how more innocently pass your tyme.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Newcastle, after spending sixteen years in exile, lived to spend about the same length of time in England.
It might be expected that he would have taken up the position of a great Cavalier who had made larger financial sacrifices in the Royalist cause than almost any other of the King’s subjects, or that he would have posed as the hero of many battles. Instead of assuming any such position, however, Newcastle chose to figure as a man of letters, an author, a poet, and a playwright.
As an author, he had some claims to the position he desired; for he had written a standard work. During his exile he produced a book entitled A New Method and Extraordinary Invention to Dress Horses, and work them, According to Nature by the Subtlety of Art. This is mainly an exposition of what is known as the haute école of horsemanship; thus the most ponderous volume on what we now talk of as the French style of riding was written by an Englishman. It is a gorgeous folio, beautifully printed, splendidly illustrated; and a good copy is worth about ten guineas at the present moment. If it were a new book, modern booksellers would doubtless advertise it either as an “édition de luxe,” or as “a sumptuous volume”.
One of the best editions is that by J. Brindley, London, 1743. That the book was a success, and a great success, the most malignant caviller at Newcastle cannot fairly deny.
The work is illustrated by Diepenbeke, whose representations in it of the Welbeck of those days, and of Bolsover Castle, have a special interest. Editions were published in London, Paris and Nuremberg, both in English and in French. In this magnificent volume the reader may learn how to train his horse to make curvets, pirouettes, demi-pirouettes, passades, voltes and demi-voltes, terms which may also be found in modern French books upon horsemanship.
Men who fancy that they know all about hunters may be surprised at their own ignorance when they read that “Your Hunter ... need not be kept ... to an exact regimen of diet: any clean food is fit for him”. If a horse’s wind is broken, it is a simple matter to mend it again by feeding him on fat bacon, sweet oil, and brandy figs, or by dosing him with small shot, pounded in a mortar and mixed with sulphur. Among other remedies for the horse will be found “A receipt for ruined nerves,” as well as “A remedy for the head-ach,” a malady seldom complained of in modern stables.
No notice of the life of Newcastle would be complete without a few quotations from the book with which his name is chiefly associated. Let us begin with a description “Of the true Seat and the necessary Actions of a good horseman.[154] Before a horseman mounts, he ought first to take care that all his horse’s furniture be in order, which is soon done, without prying into every minute circumstance, to show himself an affected connoisseur in the art. When he is seated (for I take it for granted that everyone knows how to mount a horse)”—a large assumption—“he ought to sit upright upon the twist, and not upon the buttocks, though most people think they were made by nature to sit upon; however it is not so on horseback.
[154] P. 29.
“When he is thus placed upon his twist in the middle of the saddle, he ought to advance, as much as he can, towards the pommel, leaving a hand’s breadth between his backside and the arch of the saddle, holding his legs perpendicular, as when he stands upon the ground, and his knees and thighs turned inwards towards the saddle, keeping them as close as if they were glued to the saddle; for a horseman has nothing else but this, together with the balance of his body, to keep himself on horseback. He ought to fix himself firm upon his stirrups, with his heels a little lower than his toes, so that the ends of his toes may pass about half an inch beyond the stirrup, or something more. He should keep his hams stiff, having his legs neither too near, nor too distant from the horse; that is to say, they should not touch the horse’s sides, because of the aids which shall afterwards be explained.
“He ought to hold the reins in his left hand, separating them with his little finger, holding the rest in his hand, having the thumb upon the reins, which should be held strait over the horse’s neck.
“He should have a slender switch in his hand, not too long, like a fishing rod, nor too short, like a bodkin; but rather short than long, because there are many useful aids with a short one, that a long one will not admit of. The handle of it ought to be a little beyond the hand, not only for the sake of caressing the horse with it, but likewise to hold it the faster. The right hand, that holds the switch, ought to advance a little before the bridle hand, with the small end of the switch pointing to the inside.
“The rider’s breast ought to be in some measure advanced, his countenance pleasant and gay, but without a laugh, pointing directly between his horse’s ears as he moves forward. I don’t mean, that he should fix himself stiff like a post, or that he should sit upon a horse like a statue; but, on the contrary, that he should be in a free and easy position, as it is expressed in dancing with a free air. Therefore I would have a Gentleman appear on horseback without stiffness or formality, which rather savours of the scholar than the master, and I could never observe such a formality, without conceiting the rider to look awkward and silly.
“A good seat is of such importance, as you will see hereafter, that the regular movement of a horse entirely depends upon it, which is preferable to any other assistance; therefore let it not be despised. Moreover I dare venture to affirm, that he who does not sit genteely upon a horse, will never be a good horseman. As to the management of the bridle-reins and caveson, I will teach you more concerning them in the following discourse than has been hitherto known.”
Here is some safe advice.[155]
[155] P. 105.
“The Way I took to reduce a Horse, that was extreamly Resty.
“A Horse’s restiness, when it is in a high degree, does not consist only in his refusing to advance, but also in his opposition to the rider, in every thing he possibly can, and with the utmost malice.... One must endeavour therefore to gain the horse; for the perfection of a well-managed horse consists in his following the will of his rider, so that the will of both shall be the same.... Violent methods will not do. For when the horseman thinks himself victorious, he is deceived, etc., etc. If the rider begins again to beat and spur the horse will resist again; it is not the beast then that is vanquished, but the man, who is the greater brute of the two.... The whole therefore is to make the horseman and his horse friends.
“ART AVAILS MUCH MORE THAN THE BRIDLE”
Terre a terre la reste contre la muraille a Main droite
From Newcastle’s book on horsemanship
“If you can’t gain your point one way, you must have recourse to another. You would make your horse advance, and he to defend himself against you runs back; at that instant pull him back with all your strength, and if to oppose you he advances, immediately force him briskly forwards. If you would turn to the right, and he endeavours to turn to the left, pull him round to the left as suddenly as possible: if you would turn him to the left, and he insists on the right, turn him as smartly to the right as you are able.... If he would rise,” probably the author means rear, “make him rise two or three times.” A very, very dangerous piece of advice! “In a word, follow his inclinations in everything, and change as often as he. When he perceives there can be no opposition, but that you always will the same thing as he, he will be amazed, he will breathe short, snuff up his nose, and won’t know what to do next.”
In these days, we are apt to consider good hands and the skilful use of the bridle of the utmost possible importance in horsemanship. Newcastle was of a different opinion.
“The bridle,” he says,[156] “I confess, is of some use, tho’ but little; art avails much more, as all your excellent riders well know; for I have managed a horse with a halter only, and he went as well as with the bridle.... I have also managed an English one with a scarf, and made him curvet and vault very justly.”
[156] P. 27.
Yet he tells us, later, that, in addition to his favourite curb, with a high port and rings on it, and appallingly long cheeks to the bit—a bridle about which the Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals would have something to say, were it used in these days—he liked to have a caveson on his horse’s nose, with the reins fastened to the pommel of his saddle. By the way, in an illustration, the saddle which he says cannot possibly be improved upon, looks more like an elephant’s howdah than the saddle of a horse.
Here is some queer anatomy with some still queerer inference from it.
The horse’s[157] “fore-legs are made like those of a man, having his knee bending forward; and his hind-legs like a man’s arm, having the sinews of his ham bending backwards, which is diametrically opposite to the former. If the hind-legs of a horse bent in the same manner as those before, he would walk upright like a man; but his hind-legs bending contrary, they resemble the arm of a man, and his fore-legs bend as ours, which makes him go upon all four; and there is no other reason for beasts going upon all four, with their bellies to the ground.”
[157] P. 63.
Newcastle apparently did not realise that a man’s wrist corresponds to a horse’s knee, and a man’s heel to a horse’s hock.
The following extract will show hunting-men how little they know about leaping:—
“For Leaping-horses, there are four several airs, which are Croupades, Balotades, Caprioles, and a Step and a Leap....
“Croupades is a leap where the horse pulls up his hinder legs, as if he drew or pulled them up into his body.
“Balotades is a leap where the horse offers to strike out with his hinder legs, but doth not, and makes only an offer or half strokes; showing only the shoes of his hinder legs, but doth not strike, only makes an offer, and no more.
“Caprioles is a leap, that when the horse is at the full height of his leap he yerks, or strikes out his hinder legs, as near and as even together, and as far out as ever he can stretch them, which the French call nouër l’aiguilette, which is, to tie the point.”
It is a pity that the Duke does not inform his readers which of the “four several airs” of “the leaping-horse” are respectively most suitable for the negotiation of oxers, bulfinches and brooks.
In training the horse to make demi-pirouettes, demi-voltes, etc., not content with the powerful curb, the caveson with its reins fastened to the pommel of the saddle, and having the horse’s head tied by a rope to a pole fixed in the ground, Newcastle would have his rider wear terrible spurs on his heels and carry a poinson, which was a “short stick with an iron point at one end of it,” in his hand. And, as if even all this were not enough, he would have two men on foot to “help” the horse, one with a switch in his hand and the other with a “Scourge”. By these gentle means, he tells us, horses may acquire “airs built only of art”.
Let us next learn something about curvets.[158]
[158] P. 65.
“To work a horse in Curvets backwards upon the Voltes.
“The pillar being on the right side, to the right you must advance your breast and pull in your belly, your bridle-hand on the contrary side, putting it very much out and back each time, and helping at the same time with the opposite leg. This is to make him go in a circle; but all the aids must be given in the right time. The rein and contrary leg here works the horse’s croupe, and his shoulders are at liberty.”
Here we have a highly scientific description of “Curvets upon the Voltes, sideways”.[159]
[159] P. 77.
“The horse’s hind-legs that are out ought to follow the fore-legs that are in, neither more in nor more out; the fore-legs however are within the lines of the hind ones, since they are narrower. The pillar or center is without the head of the horse when you work the croupe out, for which reason his fore-legs describe the smallest circles, and those behind the largest. The fore-leg within the volte describes the least of the two smaller, and the other fore-leg the largest of them. The hind-leg within the volte describes the least of the larger circles, and the other without the volte the greatest.”
It is pleasant to contemplate what the face of a British groom would be like if the above instructions were given to him before getting into the saddle.
Let not the conceited modern horseman smile at any of these quotations from Newcastle’s great book.
“AIDS”
From Newcastle’s book on horsemanship
He was a professor of a style of horsemanship which went out of fashion in this country long ago, but culminated in France some two hundred years later than the days of Newcastle, under those two great masters of the Haute École, Baucher and Captain Raabe.
It was not only in the pirouetting and demi-volting of horses that Newcastle interested himself. After the Restoration, he went on the Turf; although it is doubtful whether he raced except at Welbeck.[160] Near that place he established a race-course, where he held no less than six meetings in the year, and the races at them were run under special rules of his own making.
[160] Dictionary of National Biography, IX, 368.
Some years earlier (in 1659) he had denied all knowledge of racing—or horse-coursing, as he called it—in a letter to Nicholas (Egerton MSS., British Museum). “It is two professions, a good horseman and a Horse courser. I pretend to the first, but know nothing of the second, for I’ll cozen nobody; I only take care not to be cozened.”
CHAPTER XIX.
The book noticed in the last chapter is the most important that Newcastle ever wrote; but he also wrote poems and plays. Granger says:—[161]
“William, Marquis of Newcastle, who amused himself at this period with poetry and horsemanship was, as a natural consequence of his rank, much esteemed as a poet. His poetical works, which consist of plays and poems, are very little regarded; but his fine book of horsemanship is still in esteem.”
[161] The Biographical History of England, by the Rev. J. Granger, 4th ed., London, 1804, vol. III, p. 98.
Another critic held a far higher opinion of Newcastle’s plays and poems, and praised him also as a patron of men-of-letters. Langbaine, who was almost his contemporary, says:—[162]
“To speak first of his acquaintance with the Muses, and his affable deportment to all their votaries, no person since the time of Augustus better understood dramatic poetry, nor more generously encouraged poets; so that we may truly call him our English Mecaenas. He had a more particular kindness for that great master of dramatic poesy, the excellent Jonson, and ‘twas from him that he attained to a perfect knowledge of what was to be accounted true humour in comedy. How well he has copied his master, I leave to the critics: but I am sure our late, as well as our present Laureate, have powerful reasons to defend his memory. He has writ four Comedies, which have always been acted with applause; viz., Country Captain, ... Humorous Lovers, ... Triumphant Widow, and Variety. We have many other pieces writ by this ingenious Nobleman, scattered up and down in the poems of his Duchess; all which seem to confirm the character given by Mr. Shadwell, ‘That he was the greatest master of wit, the most exact observer of mankind, and the most accurate judge of humour that ever he knew’.”
[162] An Account of the English Dramatic Poets, by Gerard Langbaine, 1691, p. 396.
It is only fair to add that on page 104 of a later edition of the same book, published in 1699 and entitled, “The Lives And Characters Of The English Dramatick Poets, First Begun By Mr. Langbain, Improved and Continued Down To This Time By A Careful Hand,” we read, concerning the above notice of Newcastle:—
“Mr. Langbain has always a good word for quality; he can see no Blemish in a Person that has a Title, tho’ he be so sharp-sighted in all those of a lower station; and he is so transported on the worthy Nobleman” (Newcastle) “that he baulks the Curiosity of his Readers, for some Account of his Life, to vent a clumsey Flattery”.
Let us hear another critic. Walpole says:[163] “As an author he is familiar to those who scarce know any other author ... from his book of horsemanship.... He was fitter to break Pegasus for a manage than to mount him on the steeps of Parnassus.... One does not know whether to admire the philosophy or smile at the triflingness of this[164] peer, who after sacrificing such a fortune for his Master and enduring such calamities for his country, could accommodate his mind to the utmost idleness of literature.”
[163] A Catalogue of the Royal and Noble Authors of England, 2nd ed., 1759, vol. II, p. 12 seq.
[164] The plural is used in the original, as Walpole wrote “of this and the last-mentioned Peer,” namely the Marquess of Winchester.
In this instance, the critic has been criticised. Newcastle’s “elegant and retired studies,” says Lodge,[165] “his adoption of which in truth denoted the greatness of his spirit, a late noble person has endeavoured to ridicule ... with less taste and justice than are commonly to be found in his censures, and with more than his usual spleen”. Lodge is probably right in saying that, although Newcastle “could not claim the higher attributes of a dramatic author ... he was a close observer, and a faithful delineator of the characters and manners of ordinary society”.
[165] Portraits of Illustrious Personages.
It would be impossible to give long extracts from Newcastle’s plays here; but one or two are offered from “The Humorous Lovers,” a comedy of which even Walpole says that it was “acted by his Royal Highnesses servants,” that it “was received with great applause, and esteemed one of the best plays at that time”.
The characters figuring in one scene were “Courtly, A gentleman in love with Emilia,” and “Emilia, a gentlewoman in love with Courtly”.
Act V. Scene I.
Enter Courtly and Emilia.
Court. May I not hope you will not always be so cruel, but that my love in time may have a kind return?
Emil. Yes, you may hope, but it is as Creditors may hope for the debts from men that are undone; if ever I am Mistris of my heart again, I shall remember what I owe you.
Court. Though this acknowledgement is more than I deserve, pressed by my love, as Beggars are by want, I still shall trouble you, there is but poor relief in gentle words.
Emil. But still in vain Beggars from them Charity implore, Who have given all they had away before.
Court. May I not know the happy man, to whom you have given your heart? I wish—
Emil. What do you wish?
Court. The gift as welcome to him, as it wou’d have been to me.
Near the end of the play, the same characters are again alone together upon the stage.
Court. Pardon me, Madam, if I trouble you once more with my unwelcome sute, let me but know the man you love.
Emil. You cannot be his enemy I’m sure.
Court. No, though he robs me of all my happiness, I shou’d but make myself more miserable by offending him, for whose misfortunes you must grieve.
Emil. I cannot speak his name, but you were the occasion that I saw him first.
Court. The Colonel, my friend?
Emil. It is—
Court. The same is it not?
Emil. His friend.
Court. What means that blush?
Emil. Do you not know him yet?
Court. The Colonel’s friend you said, I think.
Emil. The Colonel’s friend.
Court. It is myself, he long has honour’d me with the name: speak, oh speak, and confirm me now in this.
Emil. I cannot tell you more, but I will never do a thing shall give you cause to think otherwise.
Court. You so surprise me with my happiness
My Joy’s too great and sudden to express.
The two next extracts from the same play may serve as specimens of Newcastle’s verse. In each case the speaker is a sane man feigning madness. In the first he is addressing his lady-love.
Do you gaze upon me? I come to bring you news from Lucifer:
In my Love’s despair I fell
Down to that Furnace we call Hell:
The first strange thing that I did mark
Was many fires, and yet ’twas dark:
Instead of costly Arras there
The walls poor sooty hangings wore;
Spirits went about each Room
With pans of sulphur for perfume;
Sod tender Ladies in a pot
For broths, and jellies they had got;
The Spits were loaded with poor sinners
That Devils rosted for their dinners;
While some were frying damned souls,
Others made rashers on the coals:
The waiting Women they did stew,
That robb’d their Ladies of their due:
Gamons of Us’rers down were taken,
That hung i’th chimney for their bacon:
Here Lawyers bak’d in Oven’s stand;
For couzeing Clients of their Land;
Millions of Souls, beyond expressing,
French Devils tortur’d in the dressing
To cool them there, they drank instead
Of beer huge draughts of molten lead.
As the poet, soon after this, becomes indecent, we will not read any more of this effusion, which, if not exactly Dantesque, is not entirely devoid of humour.
In the second poem, the sham madman again addresses the lady who is in love with him.
Unto a Feast I will invite thee,
Where various dishes shall delight thee;
The Steeming vapours drawn up hot
From Earth, that’s Nature’s porridge-pot
Shall be our broth; We’l drink my dear
The thinner air for our small beer;
And if thou lik’st it not I’le call aloud
And make our Butler broach a cloud.
Of paler Planets for thy sake
White pots, and trembling custards make
The twinkling stars, shall to our wish
Make a grand salad in a dish;
Snow for our sugar shall not fail
Fine candid ice, comfits of hail;
For oranges gilt clouds we’l squeeze
The Milkie way we’l turn to cheese,
Sunbeams we’l catch shall stand in place
Of hotter ginger, Nutmegs, Mace;
Sunsetting clouds, for Roses sweet
And Violet skies strow’d for our feet.
It is curious that Pepys should have attributed this play to the Duchess. On 30 March, 1667, he wrote in his Diary: “To see the silly play of my Lady Newcastle called ‘The Humorous Lovers’; the most silly thing that ever came upon a stage. I was sick to see it, but yet would not but have seen it, that I might the better understand her.”
Of another play attributed to Newcastle, “Sir Martin Marall,” Pepys wrote on 16 August, 1667: “My wife and I to the Duke’s playhouse, where we saw the new play acted yesterday, ‘The Feign Innocence, or Sir Martin Marall’; a play made by my Lord Duke of Newcastle, but, as everybody says, corrected by Dryden. It is the most entire piece of mirth, a complete farce from one end to the other that certainly ever was writ. I never laughed so in all my life, and at very good wit therein, not fooling.”
After all this high praise, it is painful to a writer of a panegyric on Newcastle, to read in the Encyclopædia Britannica that he “translated Molière’s L’Etourdi under the title ‘Sir Martin Mar-All’”. Almost worse still is it to read, in The Dictionary of National Biography, that Newcastle “translated Molière’s L’Etourdi, which Dryden”—not Newcastle—“converted into a play”.
Whatever may have been the assistance rendered by Dryden in what Pepys calls the making of this play, he certainly wrote its prologue and epilogue, which may be found in his collected works. They are by no means the most brilliant efforts of Dryden’s genius.
The severe critic of Langbaine’s worship of nobility, already quoted, says of Newcastle’s play, “The Triumphant Widow”: “This was esteemed a good Play, and Mr. Shadwell had so good an opinion of it, that he borrowed a great part thereof to compleat his Comedy called Bury Fair”.
In a poem entitled “The Philosopher’s Complaint,” Newcastle professes to watch a philosopher in his study, through a cranny in the wall. He hears him bewailing his fate in being a man and not a beast. The poem is long. Here are a few verses:—
Beasts slander not or falsehoods raise:
But full of truth as Nature taught,
They wisely shun dissembling ways,
Following Dame Nature as they ought.
Nor envy any that do rise[166]
Or joyful seem at those that fall,
Or crooked plans gainst others tries (sic)
But love their kind, themselves and all.
Hard labour suffer when they must,
When over-awed they wisely bend,
In only patience then they trust
As misery’s and affliction’s friend.
With cares men break their sweet repose
Like wheels that wear with turning round;
With beasts calm thoughts their eyelids close
And in soft sleep all cares are drowned.
[166] How little Newcastle must have known of cats and dogs if he thought that they were never jealous! And how pleased dogs are at seeing another dog beaten. As to “dissembling,” a bird, at any rate, will pretend to have a broken wing in order to draw away attention from her brood. And has not the fox a reputation for “dissembling ways”?
Probably Newcastle shone more as a patron, than as a producer, of literature. Besides the men-of-letters whom he placed on the staff of his army in the North, he befriended Ben Jonson, a poet who was often in need of help in a pecuniary form, and also Shadwell, who, like Newcastle, only on an infinitely humbler scale, had lost a large part of his fortune in the service of his King. Both Jonson and Shadwell were Poets Laureate. Shirley and Flecknoe were also patronized by Newcastle.
Here is a begging letter from Ben Jonson to Newcastle: “My Noblest Lord and Best Patron. I send no borrowing epistle to provoke your lordship, for I have neither fortune to repay, nor security to engage that will be taken; but I make a most humble petition to your lordship’s bounty to succour my present necessities this good time of Easter, and it shall conclude all begging requests hereafter on behalf of your truest beadsman and most thankful servant, B. J.” (Harleian MSS. 4955).[167] In another letter he thanks Newcastle for his “lordship’s timely gratuity”.
[167] Quoted in Cunninghame’s Jonson, vol. I, p. lvi.
One of Newcastle’s most intimate literary friends was not a poet, but a dry old philosopher. A good many letters written to Newcastle by Hobbes, the author of Leviathan, are among the Welbeck manuscripts, and from these a few extracts shall be given. At the time they were written, Hobbes was travelling with the young Earl of Devonshire, then a lad of 17 or 18.