On the 10th of August, 1575, Peter Bales, one of our earliest and most eminent writing-masters, finished a performance which contained the Lord’s prayer, the creed, the decalogue, with two short prayers in Latin, his own name, motto, the day of the month, year of our Lord, and reign of the queen, (Elizabeth,) to whom he afterwards presented it at Hampton-court, all within the circle of a single penny, enchased in a ring with borders of gold, and covered with a crystal, so accurately wrought, as to be plainly legible, to the great admiration of her majesty, her ministers, and several ambassadors at court.
In 1590, Bales kept a school at the upper end of the Old Bailey, and the same year published his “Writing School-Master.” In 1595, he had a trial of skill in writing with a Mr. Daniel (David) Johnson, for a “golden pen” of £20 value, and won it. Upon this victory, his contemporary and rival in penmanship, John Davies, made a satirical, ill-natured epigram, intimating that penury continually compelled Bales to remove himself and his “golden pen,” to elude the pursuit of his creditors. The particulars of the contest for the pen, supposed to be written by Bales himself, are in the British Museum, dated January 1, 1596.
So much concerning Peter Bales is derived from the late Mr. Butler’s “Chronological Exercises,” an excellent arrangement of biographical, historical, and miscellaneous facts for the daily use of young ladies.
Peter Bales according to Mr. D’Israeli, “astonished the eyes of beholders by showing them what they could not see.” He cites a narrative, among the Harleian MSS., of “a rare piece of work brought to pass by Peter Bales, an Englishman, and a clerk of the chancery.” Mr. D’Israeli presumes this to have been the whole Bible, “in an English walnut no bigger than a hen’s egg. The nut holdeth the book: there are as many leaves in his little book as the great Bible, and he hath written as much in one of his little leaves, as a great leaf of the Bible.” This wonderfully unreadable copy of the Bible was “seen by many thousands.”
Peter Huet, the celebrated bishop of Avranches, long doubted the story of an eminent writing-master having comprised “the Iliad in a nut-shell,” but, after trifling half an hour in examining the matter, he thought it possible. One day, in company at the dauphin’s, with a piece of paper and a common pen, he demonstrated, that a piece of vellum, about ten inches in length, and eight in width, pliant and firm, can be folded up and enclosed in the shell of a large walnut; that in breadth it can contain one line of thirty verses, perfectly written with a crow-quill, and in length two hundred and fifty lines; that one side will then contain seven thousand five hundred verses, the other side as much, and that therefore the piece of vellum will hold the whole fifteen thousand verses of the Iliad.
The writing match between Peter Bales and David Johnson, mentioned by Mr. Butler, “was only traditionally known, till, with my own eyes,” says Mr. D’Israeli, “I pondered on this whole trial of skill in the precious manuscript of the champion himself; who, like Cæsar, not only knew how to win victories, but also to record them.” Johnson for a whole year gave a public challenge, “To any one who should take exceptions to this my writing and teaching.” Bales was magnanimously silent, till he discovered that since this challenge was proclaimed, he “was doing much less in writing and teaching.” Bales then sent forth a challenge, “To all Englishmen and strangers,” to write for a gold pen of twenty pounds value, in all kinds of hands, “best, straightest, and fastest,” and most kind of ways; “a full, a mean, a small, with line and without line; in a slow-set hand, a mean facile hand, and a fast running hand;” and further, “to write truest and speediest, most secretary and clerk-like, from a man’s mouth, reading or pronouncing, either English or Latin.” Within an hour, Johnson, though a young friend of Bales, accepted the challenge, and accused the veteran of arrogance. “Such an absolute challenge,” says he, “was never witnessed by man, without exception of any in the world!” Johnson, a few days after, met Bales, and showed him a piece of “secretary’s hand,” which he had written on fine parchment, and said, “Mr. Bales, give me one shilling out of your purse, and, if within six months you better or equal this piece of writing, I will give you forty pounds for it.” Bales accepted the shilling, and the parties were thereby bound over to the trial of skill. The day before it took place, a printed paper posted through the city taunted Bales’s “proud poverty,” and his pecuniary motives as “ungentle, base, and mercenary, not answerable to the dignity of the golden pen!” Johnson declared that he would maintain his challenge for a thousand pounds more, but that Bales was unable to make good a thousand groats. Bales retorted by affirming the paper a sign of his rival’s weakness, “yet who so bold,” says Bales, “as blind Bayard, that hath not a word of Latin to cast at a dog, or say ‘Bo!’ to a goose!” The goose was mentioned perhaps, in allusion to Michaelmas-day 1595, when the trial commenced before five judges; an “ancient gentleman” was intrusted with “the golden pen.” The first trial was for the manner of teaching scholars; this terminated in favour of Bales. The second, for secretary and clerk-like writing, dictated in English and in Latin, was also awarded to Bales; Johnson confessing that he wanted the Latin tongue, and was no clerk. On the third and last trial, for fair writing in sundry kinds of hands, Johnson prevailed in beauty and most “authentic proportion,” and for superior variety of the Roman hand; but in court-hand, and set-text, Bales exceeded, and in bastard secretary was somewhat perfecter than Johnson. For a finishing blow, Bales drew forth his “master-piece,” and, offering to forego his previous advantages if Johnson could better this specimen, his antagonist was struck dumb. In compassion to the youth of Johnson, some of the judges urged the others not to give judgment in public. Bales remonstrated against a private decision in vain, but he obtained the verdict and secured the prize. Johnson, however, reported that he had won the golden pen, and issued an “Appeal to all impartial Penmen,” wherein he affirmed, that the judges, though his own friends, and honest gentlemen, were unskilled in judging of most hands, and again offered forty pounds to be allowed six months to equal Bales’s “master-piece.” Finally, he alleged, that the judges did not deny that Bales possessed himself of the golden pen by a trick: he relates, that Bales having pretended that his wife was in extreme sickness, he desired that she might have a sight of the golden pen, to comfort her, that the “ancient gentleman,” relying upon the kind husband’s word, allowed the golden pen to be carried to her, and that thereupon Bales immediately pawned it, and afterwards, to make sure work, sold it at a great loss, so that the judges, ashamed of their own conduct, were compelled to give such a verdict as suited the occasion. Bales rejoined, by publishing to the universe the day and hour when the judges brought the golden pen to his house, and painted it with a hand over his door for a sign.[241] This is shortly the history of a long contest, which, if it has not been paralleled in our own time, we have been reminded of by the open challenges of living calligraphers.
John Flamsteed.
On the 10th of August, 1675, the foundation stone of the Royal Observatory, for watching and noting the motions of the celestial bodies, was laid on the hill where it now stands, in Greenwich Park. The edifice was erected by order of king Charles II., at the instance of sir Jonas Moor, under the direction of sir Christopher Wren; and it is worthy of record here, that the celebrated Flamsteed, constructed a “[Scheme of the Heavens],” at the very minute when the foundation stone was laid. It has never appeared in any work, and as the public are wholly unacquainted with its existence, it is subjoined exactly as Flamsteed drew it with his own hand.
1675, Aug. 10d. 03h. 14´.
P. M. lat. 51°. 28´. 10´´.