A Finding List: Part 3.

Elizabethan Facts and Historical References

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W-X-Y-Z

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Galileo’s theory Published in 1616; in a letter to Bacon, dated April 14, 1619 Tobie Matthews speaks of Galileo having answered Bacon’s discourse touching the flux and reflux of the sea: but he alludes apparently to a discourse of Galileo’s on that subject which had never been printed. In this theory the tides are cased by the varying velocity of different points of the earth’s surface, arising from the composition of the earth’s two motions, namely that about its axis, and that in its orbit. Bacon does not seem to have perceived that both these motions are essential to the explanation. (Bacon, Nov. Org., Aphorismorum XLVI).

Gloucester church Bacon conducted an experiment on sound at this church, and it is possible that some secret vault or passageway, as Bacon stated himself, may exist and should strongly be recommended to archaeologists to “inquire more particularly of the frame of that place” should this have not already been done. (Bacon, Syl. Sylv., Vol. I. Ch. II., 148.) In Penn Leary’s account of The Oak Island Enigma written in 1953, there is a map showing Oak Island as Gloucester Isle and the like phenomena of echoes is experienced in many outdoor ancient Greek theatres.

Goff A game played with a ball.

Gray’s Inn Is situated on the north side of Holborn, and to the west of Gray’s Inn Road, and is the fourth Inn of Court in importance and size. It derives its name from the noble family of Gray of Wilton, whose residence it originally was. Edmund, Lord Qray of Wilton, in August, 1505, by indenture of bargain and sale, transferred to Hugh Denny, Esq., “the manor of Portpoole, otherwise called Gray’s Inn, four messuages, four gardens, the site of a windmill, eight acres of land, ten shillings of free rent, and the advowson of the Chauntry of Portpoole.” The old buildings of Gray’s Inn are spoken of by a contemporary writer as boasting neither of beauty, uniformity, nor capacity. They had been erected by different persons, each of whom followed the dictates of his own taste, and the accommodation was so scanty that even the ancients of the house had to lodge double. The Hall of the Inn was begun to be built in the reign of Queen Mary. It was finished in the reign of Elizabeth (1560), and cost £863 10s. 8d. In appearance the Hall is acknowledged to be “a very handsome chamber, little inferior to Middle Temple Hall, and its carved wainscot and timber roof render it much more magnificent than the Inner Temple, or Lincoln’s Inn Hall.” Its windows are richly emblazoned with the armorial bearings of Burleigh, Francis Bacon, Sir Nicholas Bacon, Judge Jenkins, and others. The Hall is also lighted by handsome louvre, on which was formerly a dial with the motto Lux Dei, lex Dei. Paintings of King Charles I., King Charles II., King James II., Sir Nicholas Bacon, Lord Francis Bacon, and Lord Raymond, Lord Chief Justice of the King’s Bench hang upon the walls. There is a tradition in Gray’s Inn that the Bench tables in the Hall were the gift of Queen Elizabeth I., and that Her Majesty once honoured the society by partaking of a magnificent banquet here. The Library of the Inn was rebuilt and enlarged in 1839-41 It consists of three handsome apartments, ceiled and wainscoted with oak. In the principal room is a bust of Lord Francis Bacon. The Library contains a complete series of reports, from the commencement of the year books to the present day, with a large collection of valuable legal treatises and authorities. Gray’s Inn Gardens had their principal entrance from Holborn by Fulwood’s Rents, then a fashionable locality very unlike what it is now. “This spot,” says the late Mr. J. H. Jesse, “was a favourite resort of the immortal Bacon during the period he resided in Gray’s Inn. It appears, by the books of the society, that he planted the greater number of the elm-trees which still afford their refreshing shade; and also that he erected a summer-house on a small mound on the terrace, where it is not improbable that he often meditated, and passed his time in literary composition. From the circumstance of Lord Bacon dating his Essays from his Chambers in Gray’s Inn, it is not improbable that the charming essay in which he dwells so enthusiastically on the pleasure of a garden was composed in, and inspired by, the floral beauties of this his favourite haunt.”
As late as the year 1754 there was standing in the gardens of Gray’s Inn an octagonal seat, covered with a roof, which had been erected by Francis Bacon to the memory of his friend, Jeremiah Bettenham. Howell, writing from Venice, June 5, 1621 to a friend at Gray’s Inn, says, “I would I had you here with a wish, and you would not desire in haste to be at Gray’s Inn; though I hold your Walks to be the pleasantest place about London, and that you have there the choicest society.” The gardens became, in time, the resort of dangerous classes; expert pickpockets and plausible ring-droppers found easy prey there on crowded days; and there were so many meetings of clandestine lovers, that it was thought expedient to close them, except at stated hours. At a pension, or meeting, held in the beginning of the reign of King James, it was intimated to be the royal pleasure that none but gentlemen of descent should be admitted to the society. The names of all candidates were therefore ordered to be delivered to the Bench that inquiries might be made as to their “quality.” To ensure the orderly management of the public table, many regulations were made. In 1581 there was a cupboard-agreement regarding Easter Day, from which we learn that the members who came to breakfast after service and communion were to have “eggs and green sauce” at the cost of the House, and that “no calves’ heads were to be provided by the cook.” At dinner and supper-time all were to be on their good behaviour. No gentleman was to be served out of his proper course; and by a regulation made in 1598, if any one “took meat by strong hand from such as should serve him, he was to be put out of commons ipso facto.” In the sixteenth year of Elizabeth, the subject of dress was discussed, and an order was made “that every man of this society should frame and reform himself for the manner of his apparel, according to the proclamation then last set forth, and within the time therein limited; else not to be accounted of this house;” and that no one should wear any gown, doublet, hose, or outward garment of an light colour, upon penalty of expulsion; and within ten days following it was also ordered that no one should wear any white doublet in the house after Michaelmas Term ensuing. Hats were forbidden to be worn in the Hall at meal-time, in 27 Elizabeth, under a penalty of 3s. 4d. for each offence. In 1600 the gentlemen of the society were instructed not to come into the Hall with their hats, boots, or spurs, but with their caps, decently and orderly, “according to the ancient orders.” When they walked in the City or suburbs, or in the fields, they had to go in their gowns, or they were liable to be fined, and at the third offence to be expelled, and lose their chamber.
At Gray’s Inn, Francis Bacon was not singular in loving rich clothes and running into debt for satin and velvet, jewels and brocade, lace and feathers. Even of that contemner of frivolous men and vain pursuits, Sir Edward Coke, biography assures us that “the jewel of his mind was put into a fair case a beautiful body with a comely countenance: a case which he did wipe and keep clean, delighting in good clothes well worn; being wont to say that the outward neatness of our bodies might be a monitor of purity to our souls.” Among other ancient constitutions of Gray’s Inn were the following: That no officer of this house shall hold or enjoy his office longer than he shall keep himself sole and unmarried, excepting the steward, the chief butler, and the chief cook; that no fellow of the society stand with his back to the fire; that no fellow of the society make any rude noise in the Hall at exercises, or at mealtime; that no fellow of the society, under the degree of an ancient, keep on his hat at readings or moots, or cases assigned; and that search be made every Term for lewd and dangerous persons, that no such be suffered to lodge in the house. Bacon’s chambers, says Mr. Pearce, were in No. 1, Coney Court, which formerly stood on the site of the present row of buildings at the west side of Gray’s Inn Square, adjoining the gardens. The whole of Coney Court was burnt down by a fire which occurred in the Inn about 1678. [Also see Fortunes of fire; Gray’s Inn revels].
In close alliance with Gray’s Inn was the Inner Temple, the two fraternal institutions always uniting in their Christmas revels, and each bearing its associate’s Coat-of-Arms over its own gateway. Of their internal affairs the public knew but little, for guests were seldom admitted behind the scenes. The Inner Temple was governed in accordance with some very remarkable rules. One of these rules, handed down from the time of the founders, the old Knights Templar, enjoined silence at meals. Members, dining in the hall, were expected to make their wants known by signs,' or, if that were not practicable, in low tones or whispers only. Another rule provided that members should seat themselves in the dining-hall in messes of four, the tables being of the exact length required to accommodate three messes each. Shakespeare was familiar with these petty details. He laid one of the scenes of Henry VI., in the Temple garden itself, where we have, properly enough, a legal discussion on the rights of certain claimants to the throne. In the course of this discussion, the following colloquy takes place. (Reed): 1

Plantaganet.    Great lords and gentlemen, what means this silence?
Dare no man answer in a case of truth ?

Suffolk.            Within the Temple hall we were too loud;
The garden here is more convenient.

Plantaganet.    Thanks, gentle sir;
Come let us four to dinner. 2

“This reference to the Temple Gardens, not saying whether the Inner or the Middle Temple is meant, curiously enough points to the writer being a member of Gray’s Inn; an Inner or a Middle Temple man would have given his Inn its proper title.” (Castle). 3

Gray’s Inn revels December 1594 in Gray’s Inn the play, according to rule, must be a classical one, translated by one of its members, and in 1564, Gascoyne had presented Euripides’s Jocasta. This, of course, was a precedent to be strictly followed in the new revival, and the play selected was Plautus’s Menœchmi, a play which Rowe, Shakespeare’s first biographer, states had never before been translated into English; going further out of his way to express his doubt whether Shakespeare knew enough Latin to read it in the original. The play itself, moreover, would require the hand of a scholar to bring out the many fine points and perpetual contrasts of the dialogue, perfectly to the satisfaction of a houseful of Latin scholars, both of the Temple and Gray’s Inn; and it had to pass the previous censorship of an official Master of the Revels. Indeed, Fleay, while loyally claiming the play for Shakespeare, admits the intervention of another hand. The work of that hand (if any other than his own) would be supervised by that eminent Latinist, Francis Bacon, Master of the Revels at Gray’s Inn. But in addition to the play, there was a Masque, and here Spedding claims at least six of the speeches as Bacon’s, and, indeed, produces the drafts in his handwriting. One of the songs was claimed by Campion, and published in his works a few years later. There is much that calls up Midsummer Night’s Dream about this Masque, as Fleay points out. 4 Campion claimed neither of these songs in 1602. If they had been his, why did he not print them? Can they be by the author of the six speeches, Bacon? Stowe ranks him as eighth in the list of twenty-eight poets; Campion being sixth, (Camden) Shakespeare eighth, poet was playwright then. Moreover, the dialogue has a philosophical twist. The question of fishes hearing is debated, and there is much talk about magnetism, evidently based upon Dr. Gilbert’s treatise, De Magnete, published just previously, a work, we may notice, published in Latin like the Plautus, from which the Comedy of Errors had been translated.
With respect to this Masque, Gray’s Inn had decided to turn itself into the semblance of a Court and Kingdom, and to entertain its members for twelve days playing at Kings and Councillors; with a Prince to match, for which purpose Gray’s Inn Hall was tilled up with a royal throne, and other regal furniture. Funds were raised by subscription from those present, and by appeals to those absent. Bacon wrote the speeches of the six Councillors, and supervised the whole. On this Spedding is clear. [Also see Northumberland manuscript]. The rehearsals must have occupied a month or six weeks, and while they were going on, Peter the Cook or his boy, bringing up the chicken’s eggs, and sallets, reported the approaching pageant to their mistress at Gorhambury. This was on December 5th, say three weeks before the first performance. Lady Anne Bacon became simply furious. Her dislike of stage plays was aggravated by Anthony Bacon’s having taken a house next to the Bull Theatre in Bishopsgate Street, from which her continual worrying forced him to remove the following year. So she wrote him on December 5, 1594, “I trust they will not mum nor mask or sinfully revel at Gray’s Inn:” the last “revel” being the very thing the Society had decided upon doing to their heart’s content, with the dice-box and wine-flask rather more accented than usual. No doubt, the figure of Lady Anne was well known in the Inn, and her servants’ account of what she was capable of doing at the shortest notice, was matter of common talk in Gray’s Inn, and freely canvassed in the buttery, not to speak of the Hall, to whom the discussion of her visitations to a bencher was nuts. As an illustration of what this lady actually was suffered to do, not only with impunity but even approval, we will abstract a story from Birch. Essex had taken up again with his old flame, Lady Rutland, and on December 1, 1596 Lady Anne, the mother of her Ladyship’s secretary, actually sent him, by the channel of her said son Anthony, a letter of remonstrance upon his adultery, modelled upon those of John Knox to Mary Queen of Scots. It is both long and strong. In place of resenting, Essex meekly answered it that same day, denying the charge, but adding “Burn, I pray you.” This, however, was the last thing in Lady Anne’s thoughts, and, elated with her victory, she sends the whole correspondence for Anthony to read, mark, and digest. On the 6th, he thanks her for a sight of the documents which he considers “welcome and comfortable to him.” Lord Essex seems to bear no malice, sends gracious compliments to his rebuker, and turns his attentions to Mrs. Bridges, a Maid of Honour, whom he got into serious trouble with the Queen by them.
When, therefore, this terrible virago wrote on December 5, 1594 to her son Anthony, “I trust they will not mum or mask or sinfully revel at Gray’s Inn. Who were sometimes counted first, God grant they wane not daily and deserve to be named last,” the contingency had to be distinctly faced, of Lady Bacon’s putting in a personal appearance, with a row of the first magnitude to follow on between her and the assembled guests. It is to be noted that the epithet “counted first” is used elsewhere by Anthony as if it were a house or pet name of his brother Francis. Everything was going on merrily, Gray’s Inn Hall filling up with thrones, scafolding and seats, rich hangings covering the walls, nymphs and fairies practicing pleasant melody with viols and voices, and gentlemen marching and counter-marching in the rehearsals; when down came the bolt from the blue; what time Peter the Cook, who had duly reported at Gorhambury the great doings in preparation at Gray’s Inn, brought up to Anthony together with the pigeons, the following note written December 5, 1594: “I trust they will not mum nor mask nor sinfully revel at Gray’s Inn. Who were sometimes counted first, God grant they wane not daily, and deserve to be counted last.” The allusion to Francis was pointed, as “one to be counted first” is used for Francis in one of Anthony’s own letters. The screw came down very heavily, and on a very tender place. From a letter five days later from Bacon to Anthony, sending him a bond for £600 for his signature, and apologizing for its being £100 more than the brother had agreed to become surety for, it is plain that neither brother seems to have had a penny in his pockets, and it must have been a trial for Anthony to know that the original £500 had been paid for a jewel, which evidently had been parted with, and was no longer available for money raising. Where had it gone to? Bacon had been already arrested for £300, the price of a jewel. The pinch was a terrible one, for Anthony was already bound to Fleetwood, the late Recorder of London, for £100 on Bacon’s behalf. This judge was probably a relation, having resided at Bacon House, Foster Lane, but, as he had deceased on the previous February 28, his people would probably be looking after their money, from which Bacon “promised immediately to free” his brother. Under these circumstances to offend the only person from whom the brothers could obtain a penny, was impossible. As was also the stopping the performance. “It was too late for praying,” says Spedding, though doubtless Anthony would seek to again appease his mother by stating that Psalms XXXV., and XXXVI., were “the very joy of his heart.” All that could be done was to deny all authorship of the pieces, as the only possible chance of avoiding the mother’s personal appearance on the scene; and her fame for prompt action was as great as that of a former landlady of the Anglers at Marlow, who, when all the men about her recoiled from the task, had with her own hands “chucked out” of the tap a six foot drunken bargee, the terror of the river; the hostess standing four feet eleven, and scaling seven stone nine.
The performance could not go on; so the Temple envoy with his train withdrew in high dudgeon, and, after an attempt to quiet down matters with dancing and revelling, the players were called upon to “play the audience out, with the play they had performed before the Court that afternoon,” the historian goes on to say “the night begun and continued to the end in nothing but confusion and error,” whereupon it was ever afterwards called the Night of Errors. The play, hitherto unnamed, received this name of “Errors” from the circumstances under which it was performed and as such remained a stock piece of the Theatre Company. As for the Masque, it was at once dropped out of sight, and replaced the next week by a splendid device to celebrate the restoration of amity between the offended Templars and Gray’s Inn. In this Spedding opines that Bacon had a leading hand. Why his name was kept entirely out of it has already been explained. Nor did the brothers again risk the loss of their only friend, though on October 15, 1596 Bacon wrote from Gray’s Inn to Lord Shrewsbury “to borrow a horse and armour for some public show,” as if he were a professional director of such things.