ty of observation, Nash added
to the collection of novels of the Shakespearean era, not another Bevis
of Hampton, but his "Jack Wilton,"[274] the best specimen of the
picaresque tale in English literature anterior to Defoe. His romance,
written in the form of memoirs, according to the usual rule of the
picaresque, is dedicated to the Earl of Southampton, under whose
patronage Shakespeare had already placed his "Venus and Adonis." It has
the defect of all the romances of the time, in England as elsewhere: it
is incoherent and badly put together. But it contains excellent
fragments, two or three capital portraits of individuals which show
careful observation, and a few solidly constructed scenes like the
vengeance of Cutwolfe which allow us to foresee that one day the
dramatic power of the English genius, worn out doubtless by a too long
career on the stage, instead of dying altogether, will be revived in
the novel.

Nash, after the manner employed by More in his "Utopia," by Greene in
his "Ciceronis amor," and in our age, with a splendour of fame to which
several generations have already borne testimony, by Sir Walter Scott,
introduces historical personages in his fiction. The page Jack Wilton,
the hero of the tale, a little superior by his rank to the ordinary
_picaro_ has, like Gil Blas, little money in his pocket and a few odds
and ends of Latin in his head; he distributes in his conversation the
trite quotations that have remained by him, skilfully enough to persuade
the vulgar that he does not belong to their tribe. "Tendit ad sidera
virtus--Paulo majora canamus--Secundum formam statuti," &c., and from
time to time, when he is greatly elated and wishes to show himself in
all his magnificence, he adopts the elegances and similes proper to the
euphuistic style: "The sparrow for his lecherie liveth but a yeere,"
&c.[275]

Wilton is present first with the royal court of England at the siege of
Tournay, under Henry VIII. What my credit was at this court "a number of
my creditors that I coosned can testifie." He lives on the resources of
his wits, playing tricks worthy a whipping if not a hanging on
respectable persons of limited capacity. His most notable victim is the
purveyor of drink or victualler to the camp, a tun-bellied coward, proud
of his pretended noble descent, a Falstaff grown old, whose wit has been
blunted, who has ended by marrying Mistress Quickly, and has himself
become tavern keeper in partnership wit