I debated which story I should share this week. I could go for comedy and talk about Stephen and Martha (Bunker) Hussey's disastrous wedding...but I think I'll save that tale for later, just in case. ;) There were a couple of other tales from my family tree that would fit the challenge. But in the end, I've got to go with the couple that may have inspired poems about ideal love and marriage...including one by Shakespeare. Their names are John Salisbury and Ursula Stanley.
John Salisbury was the son of Katherine Tudor of Berian by her first husband, Sir John Salusbury. Katherine was a relative of Queen Elizabeth I, as well as her ward and companion, and a descendant of both Owen Tudor and Henry VII. Katherine was married four times and widowed thrice.
She must have been considered a pretty prime choice for a wife. "It is said that when performing her last duty at the tomb of her first husband, she was escorted to church by Sir Richard Clough, and home by Morris Wynned of Geydir, who expressed a wish to be her second spouse, and received the civil reply, that his offer came too late, for she had already promised her hand to Sir Richard in going to church; but that is she should be call to perform the same melancholy ceremony over that gallant knight, he might rest assured that he should be her third benedict; a promise which she afterwards honorably performed." (Salisburies of Lleweni)
Below is a portrait of Katherine. No, I don't know whose skull that is. I'm hoping it's just allegorical and not great-great-great-great-etc.-grandpa Sir John (husband #1).
 |
| John's mother, Katherine of Berain |
As for John, called Sir John the Strong, I have not found a portrait of him, though one seems to have existed at least into the 1700s. According to Dr. Johnson, it and its subject are described as “dated 1591, aged 24, half-length, short hair, no beard, dressed in a yellow figured jacket, a ruff, and with his hand on a sword. Syr John ye Strong was also represented in half-length, stout, with dark hair, but no beard; with a great ruff and yellow figured jacket, having a sword in one hand, AD 1591.”
I have not found any portrait of Ursula Stanley either nor any description from Dr. Johnson or any other writer. What I do know of her is that she was the result of an illicit love. Her father, Sir Henry Stanley, 4th Earl of Derby, had been married to Lady Margaret Clifford but their marriage apparently soured. Henry and Margaret separated sometime after they had had four children. Henry then lived with a mistress, Jane Halsall, by whom he had four children, including Ursula. While it's not confirmed, it's said that Shakespeare was, at one point, a tutor in Sir Henry's household to Ursula and her sister Dorothy.
 |
| Ursula's father, Sir Henry Stanley |
John was a poet and a literary patron. Here is the opening to one of his poems:
Not to extoll your beautie, or sett forth
your plenteous graces, and your vertues woorth
my yonge Muse dares attempt: such higher skill
belonges vnto a farr more learned qwill:
I only in humble layes endevor here
to tell the loue I beare to you (my deare)...
Several poets dedicated work to him but perhaps the most important was The Love's Martyr by Robert Chester, as well as the verses written by other poets and added to the work. Chester dedicated his work to both John and Ursula, with the Phoenix being female and the Turtledove male. Below is just a portion of the long poem:
Phoenix of beautie, beauteous, Bird of any
To thee I do entitle all my labour,
More precious in mine eye by far then many
That feedst all earthly sences with thy savour:
Accept my home-writ praises of thy love,
And kind acceptance of thy Turtle-dove
Ben Jonson, William Shakespeare, and other poets, as mentioned above, subsequently wrote verses inspired by and supplementing Chester's poem.
Here is part of Jonson's contribution, the final ode:
Splendor! O more than mortal
For other forms come short all.
Of her illustrious brightness
As far as sin's from lightness.
Her wit as quick and sprightful
As fire, and more delightful
Than the stolen sports of lovers,
When night their meeting covers.
Judgment adorn'd with learning,
Doth shine in her discerning,
Clear as a naked vestal
Closed in an orb of crystal.
Her breath for sweet exceeding
The Phoenix' place of breeding,
But mix'd with sound transcending,
All nature of commending.
Alas then whither wade I
In thought to praise this lady,
When seeking her renowning
My self am so near drowning.
Retire and say her graces
Are deeper than their faces,
Yet she's not nice to show them,
Nor takes she pride to know them.
And here is Shakespeare's contribution, The Phoenix and The Turtle:
Let the bird of loudest lay,
On the sole Arabian tree,
Herald sad and trumpet be,
To whose sound chaste wings obey.
But thou, shrieking harbinger,
Foul pre-currer of the fiend,
Augur of the fever's end,
To this troop come thou not near.
From this session interdict
Every fowl of tyrant wing,
Save the eagle, feather'd king:
Keep the obsequy so strict.
Let the priest in surplice white,
That defunctive music can,
Be the death-divining swan,
Lest the requiem lack his right.
And thou, treble-dated crow,
That thy sable gender mak'st
With the breath thou giv'st and tak'st,
'Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.
Here the anthem doth commence:
Love and constancy is dead;
Phoenix and the turtle fled
In a mutual flame from hence.
So they lov'd, as love in twain
Had the essence but in one;
Two distincts, division none:
Number there in love was slain.
Hearts remote, yet not asunder;
Distance, and no space was seen
'Twixt the turtle and his queen;
But in them it were a wonder.
So between them love did shine,
That the turtle saw his right
Flaming in the phoenix' sight:
Either was the other's mine.
Property was thus appall'd,
That the self was not the same;
Single nature's double name
Neither two nor one was call'd.
Reason, in itself confounded,
Saw division grow together;
To themselves yet either-neither,
Simple were so well compounded
That it cried how true a twain
Seemeth this concordant one!
Love hath reason, reason none
If what parts can so remain.
Whereupon it made this threne
To the phoenix and the dove,
Co-supreme and stars of love;
As chorus to their tragic scene.
THRENOS.
Beauty, truth, and rarity.
Grace in all simplicity,
Here enclos'd in cinders lie.
Death is now the phoenix' nest;
And the turtle's loyal breast
To eternity doth rest,
Leaving no posterity:--
'Twas not their infirmity,
It was married chastity.
Truth may seem, but cannot be:
Beauty brag, but 'tis not she;
Truth and beauty buried be.
To this urn let those repair
That are either true or fair;
For these dead birds sigh a prayer.
It's not certain whether the companion poems to Chester's work were dedicated to the couple, like Chester's work was. If so, the two birds of the mysteriously allegorical poem about the death of ideal love symbolized John and Ursula. An argument against that idea was that John and Ursula didn't die "leaving no posterity," as Shakespeare wrote. In fact, they had ten children and probably now have a numerous posterity, including myself.
Did Shakespeare and Jonson and the others find inspiration for his poem in different sources than Chester's while still using the same imagery of the Phoenix and the Turtledove? Or did Shakespeare take creative liberties for the sake of his art while still joining with Chester in his dedication to the Salisburys? It's hard to tell. It's tempting to indulge in the hope that John and Ursula's marriage was happy enough to inspire love poetry, however.
Next week's challenge from No Story Too Small: "Week 8 (Feb 19-25) – Good Deeds. Does this mean a generous ancestor or one you found through land records? You decide." I have some very good and gernerous ancestors but I have to choose one. And I've chosen an ancestor who exemplified not only married and somewhat tragic love (marrying his sweetheart, raising children with her, losing her in childbirth, then dying ten years later due to an accident) but also a Christlike love for his neighbors. More later...
