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Title 


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THE 

MINOR 
PLEASURES 

OF  LIFE 


Selected 


by 


ROSE  MACAULAY 


LONDON 
VICTOR  GOLLANCZ  LTD 

Covent  Garden 


First  published  Octooer  1934 
Second  impression  November  raz 


'Tis  most  undoubtedly  true,  that  all  men  are  equally 
given  to  their  pleasure,  only  thus,  one  mans  pleasure  lyes 
one  way,  and  anothers  another.  Pleasures  are  all  alike, 
simply  considered  in  themselves,  he  that  hunts,  or  he 
that  governs  the  Commonwealth,  they  both  please  them- 
selves alike,  he  that  takes  pleasure  to  hear  Sermons,  enjoys 
himself  as  much  as  he  that  hears  Plays. 

Whilst  you  are  upon  Earth,  enjoy  the  good  things  that 
are  here  (to  that  end  were  they  given)  and  be  not  melan- 
cholly,  and  wish  yourself  in  Heaven. 

JOHN  SELDEN 


There  should  be  a  joyous  vget  of  elegant  extracts — 
a  Literatura  Hilaris  or  Gaudens. 

LEIGH   HUNT 


PREFACE 


I  feel  that  a  few  apologies  to  readers  should  precede  this 
book,  which  has  been  so  laboriously  charming  to  com- 
pile, and  which  seems  to  me,  now  I  look  through  it, 
slimmed  though  it  is  of  much  that  I  hoped  it  would  con- 
tain, to  be  so  full  of  agreeable  reading.  First,  then,  there 
may  be  those  who  will  seek  in  it  in  vain  their  own  favourite 
pleasures,  and  will  perhaps  find  some  things  that  are  not 
to  them  pleasures  at  all,  such  as  gossip,  football,  chess, 
sprunking,  catching  animals,  taking  umbrage,  or  what  not. 
I  must  refer  them  to  my  motto  from  Selden — one  man's 
pleasure  lies  one  way,  another's  another.  There  is  here 
no  pleasure  which  I  have  not  either  observed,  or  read, 
to  be  such  to  some  of  mankind,  though  not  all  are  so 
to  me.  Secondly,  there  may  be  those  who  will  complain 
that  this  book  wears  an  air  disproportionately  iyth 
century ;  and,  now  I  look  at  it,  I  see  they  will  have 
grounds.  But,  apart  from  this  being  the  literary  period 
most  familiar  to  me,  and  therefore  coming  most  readily 
to  my  mind,  its  literature,  from  the  rich  and  sonorous 
prose  and  lovely  verse  of  its  earlier  years,  through  the 
graceful  Latinized  elegance  of  its  middle  period,  to  the 
lounging,  easy  urbanity  of  its  close,  is  so  entrancing  that 
it  lures  one,  like  a  siren,  to  dwell  with  it.  I  have  even 
tagged  the  Roman  dignity  of  Cicero's  De  Senectute  with 
the  lively  man-about-town  idiom  of  Mr.  Samuel  Parker, 

7 


PREFACE 

who  makes  Socrates  exclaim  briskly  "  Bless  me,  what  do 
you  mean.  Sir  ?  "  like  a  coffee-house  wit.  And  this  brings 
me  to  my  next  apology — for  translations.  When  I  could, 
I  have  used  the  great  translators — Chapman,  Florio, 
Holland,  North,  Golding,  Greneway,  Dryden,  Pope, 
and  the  rest,  who  have  created  in  their  renderings  living 
English  prose  or  verse.  To  those  who  may  think  that 
apart  from  these,  I  should  have  left  such  familiar  languages 
as  Latin  and  French  untranslated,  I  can  but  say  that  I 
think  them  very  likely  right,  and  apologise  for  offering 
them  English  versions  of  my  own  where  they  could  have 
made  as  good,  or  better,  themselves. 

As  to  the  spelling  of  authors  writing  before  the  last 
quarter  of  the  i8th  century,  my  aim  has  been  to  follow 
the  text  of  some  edition  published  in  the  author's  life- 
time, or  immediately  after ;  or,  if  none  was  published,  to 
follow  the  manuscript  where  it  is  accessible.  I  did  not 
succeed  in  seeing  the  Pepys  MS.,  so  have  followed  the 
inconsistent  orthography  of  those  who  have  up  till  now 
edited  him.  When  I  have  taken  my  text  from  an  edition 
considerably  later  than  the  first,  I  have  given  the  edition's 
date. 

I  wish  I  could  be  sure  that  no  inaccuracies  have  crept 
into  my  transcriptions,  made  in  the  British  Museum  from 
texts  often  dim,  in  a  handwriting  always  bad,  and  typed 
afterwards.  If  any  have,  I  apologise ;  also  (to  any  reader 
who  dislikes  it),  for  the  contemporary  spelling.  This 
seems  to  be  a  matter  of  taste  ;  if  more  editors  of  our  older 
literature  had  shared  mine,  they  would  have  spared  me 
much  trouble.  Even  Arber  modernised ;  even  Mr.  Norman 
Ault,  whose  scholarly  Seventeenth  Century  Lyrics  so 

8 


PREFACE 

bristles  with  invaluable  and  generous  sign-posts  to  good 
collections  of  verse.  I  dare  say  they  are  right ;  it  is 
obviously  an  arguable  point,  and  each  anthologist  must 
do  as  he  prefers.  The  only  unpardonable  method  is, 
as  it  seems  to  me,  compromise. 

There  is  here  one  little  lyth  century  poem  (on  p.  22) 
which  has  not,  I  believe,  been  printed  before ;  if  any 
one  knows  of  it,  I  should  be  glad  to  hear.  Several  poems 
and  prose  extracts  have  not,  so  far  as  I  know,  been 
published  since  the  century  of  their  first  appearance, 
so  may  be  unfamiliar  to  many  readers  ;  among  these  are 
what  seem  to  me  the  two  delightful  ballads  of  young 
women  bathing,  not  the  whole  of  which  proved,  however, 
discreet  enough  for  a  modern  anthology. 

Finally,  I  should  like  to  thank  several  friends  who  have 
made  intelligent  and  happy  suggestions,  and  some  who 
have  supplied  material,  (to  Miss  Antonia  White,  for 
instance,  I  owe  a  sentence  from  an  unpublished  letter 
of  Jane  Welsh's),  and  to  acknowledge  the  unfailing  and 
kindly  help  of  the  superintendents  of  the  British  Museum 
Reading  Room,  and  the  staff  of  the  London  library.  I 
should  also  like  to  express  gratitude  for  the  work  of  all 
the  scholarly  editors  who  so  greatly  lighten  the  task  of 
anthologists,  such,  for  instance,  as  Miss  Marjorie  Hope 
Nicholson,  whose  patient  skill  in  deciphering  several  miles 
of  the  abominable  handwriting  of  Henry  More  for  her 
Conway  Letters  filled  me  with  admiration  when  I  wrestled 
with  it  myself. 


CONTENTS 


Preface  page     7 

Agreeable  Encounters  15 

Authorship  25 

Bathing  39 

Being  Flattered  52 

Being  Sent  Down  59 

Bells  62 

Catching  Animals  64 

Celestial  86 

Christmas  107 

Clothes  109 

Collecting  115 

Conversation  119 

Conversion  127 

Correspondence  136 

Courtesy  140 

Credulity  143 

Curious  Sights  147 

Dancing  149 

Day-Dreams  169 

Decanal  170 

Deploring  the  Decadence  of  the  Age  171 

Destruction  187 

II 


CONTENTS 

Detachment  page     193 

Eccentricity  198 

Exercise  200 

Filial  201 

Flattery  204 

Female  Pleasures  211 

Fraternal  225 

Games  229 

Gardens  235 

Giving  Advice  248 

Gossip  254 

Grasping  264 

Grottoes  266 

Handicrafts  276 

Handsome  Persons  277 

Happy  Deaths  293 

Happy  Lot,  A  308 

Hot  Baths  313 

Houses  316 

House-pride  321 

Ice  322 

Ignorance  324 

In  Bed  329 

Industry  342 

Insult  346 

Knowledge  348 

Liberty  350 

Lunatic  353 

Making  a  Fuss  364 

12 


CONTENTS 

Making  Merry  page     368 

Male  Pleasures  375 

Malice  380 

Marine  385 

Mathematical  397 

Matrimony  400 

Metropolitan  419 

Odium  Theologicum  43 1 

Old  Age  446 

Orchards  459 

Parental  466 

Parties  480 

Patriotism  488 

Pet  Animals  501 

Play-going  516 

Prison  519 

Rain  534 

Rambling  535 

Reading  536 

Repartee  546 

Respect  from  Lower  Orders  546 

Rural  548 

Saga  Growth  558 

Satisfactory  Engagements  559 

Scepticism  581 

Sermons  585 

Showing  OS  59 1 

Shows  600 

Shopping  602 

13 


CONTENTS 

Single  Life,  The  page     609 

Sloth  612 

Smoking  614 

Snacks  between  Meals  625 

Sororal  632 

Smells  634 

Solitude  639 

Spring  643 

Sprunking  646 

Street  Music  659 

Sunday  660 

Taking  Umbrage  672 

Thrift  673 

Travel  676 

Tapestry  Animals  687 

Taverns  687 

Vanity  689 

Virtue  690 

Visits  694 

Wealth  703 

Weddings  712 

Woods  718 

Xenophilism  720 

Xenophobia  726 

Acknowledgments  733 

Index  of  Authors  and  Translators  735 

Index  of  First  Lines  of  Verse  745 


THE  MINOR  PLEASURES 
OF  LIFE 

AGREEABLE  ENCOUNTERS 

ELEPHANTS 


If  Elephants  see  a  man  comming  against  them  that  is 
out  of  the  way  in  wildernes,  for  they  would  not  afray 
him,  they  will  draw  themselves  somewhat  out  of  the  way, 
and  then  they  stint,  and  pass  little  and  little  before  him, 
and  teach  him  the  way,  and  if  a  dragon  come  against 
him,  they  fight  with  the  dragon  and  defend  the  man,  and 
put  them  forth  to  defend  the  man  strongly  and  mightily. 

BARTHOLOMEW   ANGLICUS 

De  Proprietatibus  Rerum  (c.  1240) 
Trans.  John  Trevisa  (1398,  modernised  1582) 


BURGUNDIAN  JEWS 

I   was    brought   acquainted   with   a    Burgundian    Jew, 
who  had  married  an  apostate  Kentish  woman.  I  asked 

15 


him  divers  questions  :  he  told  me,  amongst  other  things, 
that  the  World  should  never  end ;  that  our  soules  trans- 
migrated, and  that  even  those  of  the  most  holy  persons  did 
pennance  in  the  bodyes  of  bruits  after  death,  and  so  he 
interpreted  the  banishment  and  salvage  life  of  Nebuchad- 
nezzar ;  that  all  the  Jews  should  rise  againe  and  be  led  to 
Jerusalem  ;  that  the  Romans  only  were  the  occasion  of  our 
Saviour's  death ;  .  .  .  that  when  the  Messias  came,  all 
the  ships,  barkes,  and  vessells  of  Holland  should,  by  the 
powere  of  certain  strange  whirle  winds,  be  loos'd  from 
their  ankers  and  transported  in  a  moment  to  all  the  desolat 
ports  and  havens  throughout  the  world,  wherever  the  dis- 
persion was,  to  convey  their  breathren  and  tribes  to  the 
Holy  Citty ;  with  other  such  like  stuff.  He  was  a  merry 
drunken  fellow,  but  would  by  no  means  handle  any 
money  (for  something  I  purchas'd  of  him)  it  being 
Saturday ;  but  desired  me  to  leave  it  in  the  window, 
meaning  to  receive  it  on  Sunday  morning. 

JOHN   EVELYN 

Diary  (Leyden,  Aug.  28,  1641) 


COLONELS 

I  remember  in  those  Times,  an  admired  Original  of 
that  Vocation,  sitting  in  a  Coffee-house  near  two  Gentle- 
men, whereof  one  was  of  the  Clergy,  who  were  engag'd 
in  some  Discourse  that  savoured  of  Learning ;  this 
Officer  thought  fit  to  interpose,  and  professing  to  deliver 
the  Sentiments  of  his  Fraternity,  as  well  as  his  own  .  .  . 
turning  to  the  Clergy-Man,  spoke  in  the  following 
Manner,  "  D — n  me,  Doctor,  say  what  you  will,  the  Army 

16 


is  the  only  School  for  Gentlemen.  Do  you  think  my  lord 
Marlborough  beat  the  French  with  Greek  and  Latin? 
D — n  me,  a  Scholar  when  he  comes  into  good  Company, 
what  is  he  but  an  Ass  ?  D — n  me,  I  would  be  glad,  by 
G — d,  to  see  any  of  your  Scholars  with  his  Nouns,  and  his 
Verbs,  and  his  Philosophy,  and  Trigonometry,  what  a 
Figure  he  would  make  at  a  Siege  or  Blockade,  or  ren- 
countring,  d — n  me,"  etc.  After  which  he  proceeded  with 
a  Volley  of  Military  Terms  .  .  .  harder  to  be  understood 
than  any  that  were  coined  by  the  Commentators  upon 
Aristotle. 

JONATHAN  SWIFT 

Essay  on  Modern  Education  (c.  1723) 


POETS 

Some  days  after  this  conversation  I  walked  to  Lausanne, 
to  breakfast  at  the  hotel  with  an  old  friend.  ...  He  pre- 
sently came  in,  accompanied  by  two  English  ladies.  .  .  . 
The  husband  of  one  of  them  soon  followed.  I  saw  by 
their  utilitarian  garb,  as  well  as  by  the  blisters  and  blotches 
on  their  cheeks,  lips  and  noses,  that  they  were  pedestrian 
tourists,  fresh  from  the  snow-covered  mountains.  .  .  . 
The  man  was  evidently  a  denizen  of  the  north,  his  accent 
harsh,  skin  white,  of  an  angular  and  bony  build,  and  self- 
confident  and  dogmatic  in  his  opinions.  The  precision  and 
quaintness  of  his  language,  as  well  as  his  eccentric  remarks 
on  common  things,  stimulated  my  mind.  Our  icy  islanders 
thaw  rapidly  when  they  have  drifted  into  warmer  lati- 
tudes :  broken  loose  from  its  anti-social  system,  mystic 
casts,  coteries,  sets  and  sects,  they  lay  aside  their 


purse-proud,  tuft-hunting,  and  toadying  ways,  and  are 
very  apt  to  run  riot  in  the  enjoyment  of  all  their  senses 

We  talked  as  loud  and  as  fast  as  if  under  the  exhilarating 
influence  of  champagne,  instead  of  such  a  sedative  com- 
pound as  cafe  au  lait. . . .  The  stranger  expressed  his  disgust 
at  the  introduction  of  carriages  into  the  mountain  districts 
of  Switzerland,  and  at  the  old  fogies  who  used  them. 

"  As  to  the  arbitrary,  pitiless,  Godless  wretches,"  he 
exclaimed,  "  who  have  removed  nature's  landmarks  by 
cutting  roads  through  Alps  and  Apennines,  until  all  things 
are  reduced  to  the  same  dead  level,  they  will  be  arraigned 
hereafter  with  the  unjust ;  they  have  robbed  the  best 
specimens  of  what  men  should  be,  of  their  freeholds  in 
the  mountains ;  the  eagle,  the  black  cock,  and  the  red  deer 
they  have  tamed  or  exterminated.  The  lover  of  nature  can 
nowhere  find  a  solitary  nook  to  contemplate  her  beauties. 
Yesterday,"  he  continued,  "  at  the  break  of  day,  I  scaled 
the  most  rugged  height  within  my  reach ;  it  looked  in- 
accessible ;  this  pleasant  delusion  was  quickly  dispelled ; 
I  was  rudely  startled  out  of  a  deep  reverie  by  the  accursed 
jarring,  jingling,  and  rumbling  of  a  caleche,  and  harsh 
voices  that  drowned  the  torrent's  fall." 

The  stranger,  now  hearing  a  commotion  in  the  street, 
looked  out  of  the  window,  and  rang  the  bell  violently. 

"  Waiter,"  he  said,  "  is  that  our  carriage  ?  Why  did 
you  not  tell  us  ?  Come,  lasses,  be  stirring,  the  freshness  of 
the  day  is  gone.  You  may  rejoice  in  not  having  to  walk  ; 
there  is  a  chance  of  saving  the  remnants  of  skin  the  sun 
has  left  on  our  chins  and  noses."  .  .  . 

On  their  leaving  the  room  to  get  ready  for  their  journey, 
my  friend  told  me  the  strangers  were  the  poet  Words- 
worth, his  wife  and  sister.  Who  could  have  divined  this  ?  I 
could  see  no  trace,  in  the  hard  features  and  weather-stained 

18 


brow  of  the  outer  man,  of  the  divinity  within  him. 
In  a  few  minutes  the  travellers  re-appeared.  .  .  .  Now 
that  I  knew  that  I  was  talking  to  one  of  the  gentle  craft, 
as  there  was  no  time  to  waste,  I  asked  him  abruptly  what 
he  thought  of  Shelley  as  a  poet  ? 

"  Nothing,"  he  replied,  as  abruptly. 

Seeing  my  surprise,  he  added,  "  A  man  who  has  not 
produced  a  good  poem  before  he  is  twenty-five,  we  may 
conclude  cannot  and  never  will  do  so." 

"  The  Cenci !  "  I  said  eagerly. 

"  Won't  do,"  he  replied,  shaking  his  head,  as  he  got 
into  the  carriage  :  a  rough-coated  Scotch  terrier  followed 
him. 

"  This  hairy  fellow  is  our  flea-trap,"  he  shouted  out, 
as  they  started  off. 

When  I  recovered  from  the  shock  of  having  heard  the 
harsh  sentence  passed  by  an  elder  bard  on  a  younger 
brother  of  the  Muses,  I  exclaimed,  After  all,  poets  are 
but  earth. 

E.  J.   TRELAWNY 

Recollections  of  the  Last  Days  of  Shelley  and  Byron  (1858) 


I  drove  to  Pisa  .  .  .  and  .  .  .  hastened  to  the  Tre  Palazzi 
.  .  .  where  the  Shelleys  and  Williamses  lived  on  different 
flats  under  the  same  roof,  as  is  the  custom  on  the  Contin- 
ent. The  Williamses  received  me  in  their  earnest  cordial 
manner  ...  we  were  in  loud  and  animated  conversation, 
when  I  was  rather  put  out  by  observing  in  the  passage 
near  the  open  door,  opposite  to  where  I  sat,  a  pair  of 
glittering  eyes  steadily  fixed  on  mine  ; . . .  Mrs.  Williams's 

19 


eyes  followed  the  direction  of  mine,  and  going  to  the 
doorway,  she  laughingly  said, 

"  Come  in,  Shelley,  it's  only  our  friend  Tre  just  arrived." 

Swiftly  gliding  in,  blushing  like  a  girl,  a  tall  thin 
stripling  held  out  both  his  hands  ;  and  although  I  could 
hardly  believe,  as  I  looked  at  his  flushed,  feminine  and 
artless  face,  that  it  could  be  the  Poet,  I  returned  his  warm 
pressure.  ...  I  was  silent  from  astonishment :  was  it 
possible  this  mild-looking,  beardless  boy  could  be  the 
veritable  monster  at  war  with  all  the  world  ? — excom- 
municated by  the  Fathers  of  the  Church,  deprived  of  his 
civil  rights  by  the  fiat  of  a  grim  Lord  Chancellor,  dis- 
carded by  every  member  of  his  family,  and  denounced  by 
the  rival  sages  of  our  literature  as  the  founder  of  a  Satanic 
school  ?  I  could  not  believe  it :  it  must  be  a  hoax.  He 
was  habited  like  a  boy,  in  a  black  jacket  and  trowsers,  which 
he  seemed  to  have  outgrown,  or  his  tailor,  as  is  the  custom, 
had  most  shamefully  stinted  him  in  his  "  sizings."  Mrs. 
Williams  saw  my  embarrassment,  and  to  relieve  me  asked 
Shelley  what  book  he  had  in  his  hand  ?  His  face  bright- 
ened, and  he  answered  briskly. 

"  Calderon's  Magico  Prodigioso,  I  am  translating  some 
passages  in  it." 

"  Oh,  read  it  to  us  !  " 

Shoved  off  from  the  shore  of  common-place  incidents 
that  could  not  interest  him,  and  fairly  launched  on  a  theme 
that  did,  he  instantly  became  oblivious  of  everything  but 
the  book  in  his  hand.  The  masterly  manner  in  which  he 
analysed  the  genius  of  the  author,  his  lucid  interpretation 
of  the  story,  and  the  ease  with  which  he  translated  into  our 
language  the  most  subtle  ^nd  imaginative  passages  of  the 
Spanish  poet,  were  marvellous,  as  was  his  command  of 
the  two  languages.  After  this  touch  of  his  quality,  I  no 

20 


longer  doubted  his  identity ;  a  dead  silence  ensued  ; 
looking  up,  I  asked, 

"  Where  is  he  ?  " 

Mrs.  Williams  said,  "  Who  ?  Shelley  ?  Oh,  he  comes 
and  goes  like  a  spirit,  no  one  knows  when  or  where." 

Presently  he  re-appeared  with  Mrs.  Shelley.  She  .  .  . 
welcomed  me  to  Italy,  and  asked  me  the  news  of  London 
and  Paris,  the  new  books,  operas,  and  bonnets,  marriages, 
murders,  and  other  marvels.  The  Poet  vanished,  and  tea 
appeared. 

Ibid. 


VISITORS  FROM  THE  MOON 

We  find  our  Air  consists  of  thicker  and  grosser  Vapours 
than  the  Air  of  the  Moon.  So  that  one  of  her  Inhabitants 
arriving  at  the  Confines  of  our  World,  as  soon  as  he  enters 
our  Air  will  inevitably  drown  himself,  and  we  shall  see 
him  fall  dead  on  the  Earth. 

I  should  rejoyce  at  a  Wreck,  said  the  Countess,  as  much 
as  my  Neighbours  on  the  Coast  of  Sussex ;  how  pleasant 
would  it  be  to  see  'em  lie  scatter'd  on  the  ground,  where 
we  might  consider  at  our  ease  their  extraordinary  Figures ! 
But  what,  said  /,  if  they  could  swim  on  the  outward  surface 
of  our  Air,  and  be  as  curious  to  see  us,  as  you  are  to  see 
them ;  should  they  Angle  or  cast  a  Net  for  us,  as  for  so 
many  Fish,  would  that  please  you  ?  Why  not  ?  said  the 
Countess ;  For  my  part  I  would  go  into  their  Nets  of 
mine  own  accord,  were  it  but  for  the  pleasure  to  see  such 
strange  Fishermen. 

BERNARD   DE  FONTENELLE 

A  Plurality  of  Worlds.  Trans.  John  Glanvill  (1688) 
21 


APPARITIONS 


Anno  1670,  not  far  from  Cyrencester,was  an  Apparition: 
Being  demanded,  whether  a  good  Spirit  or  a  bad  ?  re- 
turned no  answer,  but  disappeared  with  a  curious  Perfume 
and  a  most  melodious  Twang.  Mr.  W.  Lilly  believes  it 
was  a  Farie.  So  Propertius. 

JOHN  AUBREY 

Miscellanies  (1696) 


A  COUNTRY  LASS 


I  saw  a  Countrey  lasse 

did  lye  upon  the  grass, 

her  hatt  of  Strawe  was  made, 

To  keepe  her  in  the  Shade, 

Her  Band  of  plated  haire 

Scorning  what  els  to  ware,  .  .  . 

Her  purfled  Sleeves  were  white 
lik  Sunn  dazling  my  Sight 
her  mayden  Ribbon  ty'de 
to  shew  a  Virgin  Bride 
her  Petticoate  the  die 
just  like  an  Azure  skye 
Sheapheards  to  shew  thiere  Loves 
offer'd  Kidds  Leather  Gloves. 

Skynn  white  as  Mornings  milke 
softer  then  downe,  or  Silke 
22 


Brest  Rocks  of  Curds  all  Seas 
not  prest  yet  for  a  Cheese, 
haire  brown  as  is  the  Berry, 
her  lookes  modistly  merry 
her  face  still  did  renew 
washt  in  each  Mornings  dew 

Some  Rurall  folke  did  say 

Her  breath  tasted  like  whay 

When  lipps  with  mine  did  meete, 

Butter  milke  sugar'd  sweete 

Her  dewy  lipps  Loves  Streame 

Fresh  Strawberryes  and  Creame.  .  .  . 

Her  Waterpoole  the  Glasse, 

bracelets  redd  berries  was 

flowers  for  Jewells  wore 

All  Arts  her  Love  for  bore  .  .  . 

her  Bedd  the  fresher  grasse 

her  Pillowe  Rushes  bough'd 

Trees,  Curtaines  for  her  Shroud.  .  .  . 

for  Hoboyes  shee  did  keepe 
a  Quire  of  Birds  did  sing 
thinking  she  was  the  Spring 
the  murmurring  Rivolettes  playd, 
Loves  Spiritts  then  Obey'd, 
The  Brookes  did  dropping  Weepe 
while  shee  did  gently  sleepe. 

?  JOHN  GAMBLE 

/  saw  a  Country  Lasse  (a.  1687) 


SINGING  MILKMAIDS 

As  I  left  that  place,  and  enterd  into  the  next  field,  a  second 
pleasure  entertained  me,  'twas  a  handsom  milk-maid, 
that  had  cast  away  all  care,  and  sung  like  a  Nightinghale, 
her  voice  was  good,  and  the  Ditty  fitted  for  it,  'twas  that 
smooth  song  which  was  made  by  Kit  Marlowe  now  at 
least  fifty  yeers  ago  :  and  the  Milk-Maids  mother  sung  an 
answer  to  it,  which  was  made  by  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  in 
his  younger  daies.  They  were  old-fashioned  Poetrie,  but 
choicely  good,  I  think  much  better  then  that  now  in 
fashion  in  this  critical  age.  Look  yonder,  on  my  word, 
yonder  they  be  both  a  milking  againe  ;  I  will  give  her  the 
chub,  and  perswade  them  to  sing  these  two  songs  to  us. 
PISCATOR  :  God  speed,  good  woman,  I  have  been  a  fishing, 
and  am  going  to  Bleak  Hall  to  my  bed,  and  having  caught 
more  fish  then  will  sup  my  self  and  friend,  will  bestow 
this  upon  you  and  your  daughter.  .  .  . 
MILKWOMAN  :  Marrie  God  requite  you  Sir,  and  we'l  eat  it 
cheerfully  :  and  if  you  come  this  way  a  fishing  two  months 
hence,  a  grace  of  God  He  give  you  a  Sillibub  of  new 
Verjuice,  in  a  new-made  Hay-Cock,  and  my  Maudlin  shall 
sing  you  one  of  her  best  Ballads,  for  she  and  I  both  love 
all  Anglers,  they  be  such  honest,  civil,  quiet  men  :  in  the 
mean-time,  will  you  drink  a  draught  of  Red  Cowes  milk, 
you  shall  have  it  freely. 

Pise  :  No,  I  thank  you,  but  I  pray  you  do  us  a  Courtesie 
that  shall  stand  you  and  your  daughter  in  nothing,  and  we 
wil  think  our  selves  stil  something  in  your  debt ;  it  is  but 
to  sing  us  a  song,  that  was  sung  by  you  and  your  daughter 
when  I  last  past  over  this  meadowe  about  eight  or  nine 
daies  since. 

IZAAK   WALTON 

The  Compleat  Angler  (1653) 
24 


PRETTY  LADIES 

Sir  G.  Carteret,  Sir  W.  Pen  and  I  walked  forth,  and  I 
spied  Mrs  Pierce  and  another  lady  passing  by.  So  I  left 
them  and  went  to  the  ladies,  and  walked  with  them  up  and 
down,  and  took  them  to  Mrs  Stephens,  and  there  gave 
them  wine  and  sweetmeats,  and  were  very  merry ;  and 
then  comes  the  Doctor,  and  we  carried  them  by  coach  to 
their  lodging,  which  was  very  poor,  but  the  best  they 
could  get,  and  such  as  made  much  mirth  among  us.  So  I 
appointed  one  to  watch  when  the  gates  of  the  town  were 
ready  to  be  shut,  and  to  give  us  notice  ;  and  so  the  Doctor 
and  I  staid  with  them  playing  and  laughing,  and  at  last 
were  forced  to  bid  good  night  for  fear  of  being  locked  into 
the  town  all  night.  So  we  walked  to  the  yard,  designing 
how  to  prevent  our  going  to  London  to-morrow,  that  we 
might  be  merry  with  these  ladies,  which  I  did. 

SAMUEL   PEPYS 

Diary  (April  29,  1662) 


AUTHORSHIP 


ENJOYING  ONE'S  BOOK 

'Twill  be  a  pretty  thing,  and  I  am  glad  you  putt  me  on  it. 
I  doe  it  playingly.  This  morning  being  up  by  10,  I  writt 
two  lives  :  one  was  Sir  John  Suckling,  of  whom  I  wrote  a 
leafe  and  a  £  in  folio.  .  .  . 

25 


My  memoires  of  lives  is  now  a  booke  of  2  quires,  close 
written  :  and  after  I  had  begun  it,  I  had  such  an  impulse 
on  my  spirit  that  I  could  not  be  at  quiet  till  I  had  done 
it.  ... 

My  booke  of  lives  .  .  .  they  will  be  in  all  about  six 
score,  and  I  beleeve  never  any  in  England  were  delivered 
so  faithfully  and  with  so  good  authority. 

JOHN  AUBREY 

Letter  to  Anthony  Wood  (1680) 


REVENGE 


I  am  writing  a  comedy  for  Thomas  Shad  well.  .  .  .  And  I 
shall  fit  him  with  another,  The  Countrey  Revell,  .  .  .  but 
of  this,  mum  !  for  'tis  very  satyricall  against  some  of  my 
mischievous  enemies  which  I  in  my  tumbling  up  and 
downe  have  collected. 

Ibid. 


THE  BLISS  OF  EXCESSIVE  FONDNESS 


He  [Richardson]  was  delighted  by  his  own  works.  No 
author  enjoyed  so  much  the  bliss  of  excessive  fondness. 
.  .  .  The  extreme  delight  which  he  felt  on  a  review  of  his 
own  works,  the  works  themselves  witness.  Each  is  an 
evidence  of  what  some  will  deem  a  violent  literary  vanity. 
To  Pamela  is  prefixed  a  letter  from  the  editor  (whom  we 
know  to  be  the  author}  consisting  of  one  of  the  most 
minutely  laboured  panegyrics  of  the  work  itself,  that  ever 

26 


the  blindest  idolater  of  some  ancient  classic  paid  to  the 
object  of  his  frenetic  imagination.  ...  To  the  author's 
own  edition  of  his  Clarissa  is  appended  an  alphabetical 
arrangement  of  the  sentiments  dispersed  throughout  the 
work  ;  and  such  was  the  fondness  that  dictated  this  volu- 
minous arrangement,  that  such  trivial 


"  habits  are  not  easily  changed,"  "  men  are  known  by 
their  companions/5  etc.  seem  alike  to  be  the  object  of  their 
author's  admiration.  And  in  Sir  Charles  Grandison,  is  not 
only  prefixed  a  complete  index,  with  as  much  exactness  as 
if  it  were  a  History  of  England,  but  there  is  also  appended 
a  list  of  the  similes  and  allusions  in  the  volume.  .  .  . 
Literary  history  does  not  record  a  more  singular  example 
of  that  self-delight  which  an  author  has  felt  on  a  revision 
of  his  works.  It  was  this  intense  pleasure  which  produced 
his  voluminous  labours. 

ISAAC   DISRAELI 

Curiosities  of  Literature  (1792-1823) 


AN  AGREEABLE  DELIRIUM 

The  mere  act  and  habit  of  writing,  without  probably  even 
a  remote  view  of  publication,  has  produced  an  agreeable 
delirium.  .  .  .  Petrarch  exhibits  no  solitary  instance  of 
this  passion  of  the  pen.  "  I  read  and  I  write  night  and  day  ; 
it  is  my  only  consolation.  ...  On  the  table  where  I  dine, 
and  by  the  side  of  my  bed,  I  have  all  the  materials  for 
writing;  and  when  I  awake  in  the  dark,  I  write,  although  I 
am  unable  to  read  the  nextlnofning  what  I  have  written." 
Petrarch  was  not  always  in  his  perfect  senses. 

The  copiousness  and  the  multiplicity  of  the  writings  of 

2? 


many  authors  have  shown  that  too  many  find  a  pleasure 
in  the  act  of  composition  which  they  do  not  communicate 
to  others.  ...  At  the  early  period  of  printing,  two  of  the 
most  eminent  printers  were  ruined  by  the  volumes  of  one 
author ;  we  have  their  petition  to  the  pope  to  be  saved 

from  bankruptcy We  are  astonished  at  the  fertility  and 

the  size  of  our  own  writers  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
when  the  theological  war  of  words  raged,  spoiling  so  many 
pages  and  brains.  .  .  .  They  went  on  with  their  work, 
sharply  or  bluntly,  like  witless  mowers,  without  stopping 
to  whet  their  scythes.  They  were  inspired  by  the  scrib- 
bling demon  of  that  rabbin,  who,  in  his  oriental  style  and 
mania  of  volume,  exclaimed  that  were  "  the  heavens 
formed  of  paper,  and  were  the  trees  of  the  earth  pens,  and  if 
the  entire  sea  run  ink,  these  only  could  suffice  "  for  the 
monstrous  genius  he  was  about  to  discharge  on  the 
world.  .  .  . 

The  pleasure  which  authors  of  this  stamp  experience  is 
of  a  nature  which,  whenever  certain  unlucky  circum- 
stances combine,  positively  debarring  them  from  publi- 
cation, will  not  abate  their  ardour  one  jot ;  and  their  pen 
will  still  luxuriate  in  the  forbidden  page  which  even 
booksellers  refuse  to  publish. 

Ibid. 


VOLUMINOUS  PRYNNE 

He  may  be  well  intituled  Voluminous  Prynne,  as  Tostatus 
Abulensis  was  200  years  before  his  time  called  Voluminous 
Tostatus ;  for  I  verily  beUeve,  that  if  it  be  rightly  com- 
puted, he  wrot  a  sheet  for  every  day  of  his  life,  reckoning 
from  the  time  when  he  came  to  the  use  of  reason  and  the 

28 


state  of  Man.  His  custom  when  he  studied  was  to  put  on 
a  long  quilted  cap  which  came  an  inch  over  his  eyes, 
serving  as  an  Umbrella  to  defend  them  from  too  much 
light,  and  seldom  eating  a  dinner,  would  every  3  hours  or 
so  be  maunching  a  roll  of  bread. 


Athenae  Oxoniensis  (1692) 


WAITING  FOR  REVIEWS 

Next  Thursday  I  shall  be  delivered  to  the  World,  for 
whose  inconstant  and  malicious  levity  I  am  coolly  but 
firmly  prepared.  EDWARD  GnJBON 

Letter  to  his  Stepmother,  before  publication  of  vols  2  and  3 

of  the  Decline  and  Fall  (1781) 


PATRONS 

Let  there  be  Patrons ;  patrons  like  to  thee, 

Brave  Porter  \  Poets  ne'r  will  wanting  be ; 

FabiuSy  and  Cotta,  Lentulus,  all  live 

In  thee,  thou  Man  of  Men !  who  here  do'st  give 

Not  onely  subject-matter  for  our  wit. 

But  likewise  Oyle  of  Maintenance  to  it : 

For  which,  before  thy  Threshold,  we'll  lay  downe 

Our  Thyrse,  for  Scepter ;  and  our  Baies  for  Crown. 

For,  to  say  truth,  all  Garlands  are  thy  due  ; 

The  Laurelly  Mirtle,  Oke,  and  Ivie  too. 

ROBERT   HERRICK 

To  the  Patron  of  Poets,  Mr.  Endymion  Porter 

Hesperides  (1648) 
29 


BEING  SNATCHED  FROM  OBSCURITY 


Vapid.  Now  do  take  my  advice  and  write  a  play — if  any 
accident  happens,  remember,  it  is  better  to  have  written 
a  damn'd  play  than  no  play  at  all — it  snatches  a  man  from 
obscurity. 

FREDERICK   REYNOLDS 

The  Dramatist  (1793) 


ROYAL  APPRECIATION 


The  Duke  of  Gloucester,  brother  of  King  George  III, 
permitted  Mr  Gibbon  to  present  to  him  the  first  volume  of 
the  History  of  the  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire. 
When  the  second  volume  of  that  work  appeared,  it  was 
quite  in  order  that  it  should  be  presented  to  His  Royal 
Highness  in  like  manner.  The  Prince  received  the  author 
with  much  good  nature  and  affability,  saying  to  him,  as  he 
laid  the  quarto  on  the  table,  "  Another  d-mned  thick 
square  book  !  Always  scribble,  scribble  !  Eh  !  Mr  Gib- 
bon ?  " 

Does  not  every  reader  of  this  anecdote  judge  it  to  be  a 
most  ingenious  example  of  persiflage  ?  How  admirably 
does  the  prince  quiz  the  vo-luminous  Historian  !  .  .  . 
We  must  suppose  Mr  Gibbon  to  be  a  very  silly  man,  if 
he  could  be  flattered  by  the  leave  given  to  lay  his  works 
before  so  incompetent  a  personage. 

H.  D.  BEST 

Personal  and  Literary  Memorials  (1829) 
30 


DARTING  THOUGHTS 


He  walked  much  and  contemplated,  and  he  had  in  the 
head  of  his  staffe  a  pen  and  inke-horne,  carried  alwayes  a 
note-booke  in  his  pocket,  and  as  soon  as  a  thought  darted, 
he  presently  entered  it  into  his  booke,  or  otherwise  he 
might  perhaps  have  lost  it. 

JOHN   AUBREY 

Brief  Lives.  Thomas  Hobbes  (c.  1680) 


THE  ARDOR  SCRIBENDI 


He  has  the  ardor  scribendi  upon  him  so  strong,  that  he 
would  rather  you'd  ask  him  to  write  an  epilogue  to  a  new 
play,  than  offer  him  your  whole  estate — the  theatre  is  his 
world,  in  which  are  included  all  his  hopes  and  wishes. — In 
short — he  is  a  dramatic  maniac. 

FREDERICK  REYNOLDS 
The  Dramatist  (1793) 


NOURISHMENT  OF  AUTHORS 


Every  animal  has  an  aliment  peculiarly  suited  to  its 
constitution.  The  heavy  ox  seeks  nourishment  from  earth  ; 
the  light  cameleon  has  been  supposed  to  exist  on  air  ;  a 
sparer  diet  than  even  this  will  satisfy  the  man  of  true 

31 


genius,  for  he  makes  a  luxurious  banquet  on  empty 
applause.  It  is  this  alone  which  has  inspired  all  that  was 
ever  truly  great  and  noble  among  us.  It  is,  as  Cicero  finely 
calls  it,  the  echo  of  virtue.  Avarice  is  the  passion  of  in- 
ferior natures  ;  money  the  pay  of  the  common  herd.  The 
author  who  draws  his  quill  merely  to  take  a  purse,  no 
more  deserves  success  than  he  who  presents  a  pistol. 

OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

Inquiry  into  the  present  state  of  polite  learning  (1759) 


BEING  TRANSLATED  INTO  RUSSIAN 


He  called  to  us  with  a  sudden  air  of  exultation,  as  the 
thought  darted  into  his  mind,  "  O  !  Gentlemen,  I  must 
tell  you  a  very  great  thing.  The  Empress  of  Russia  has 
ordered  the  Rambler  to  be  translated  into  the  Russian 
language  :  so  I  shall  be  read  on  the  banks  of  the  Wolga. 
Horace  boasts  that  his  fame  would  extend  as  far  as  the 
banks  of  the  Rhone ;  now  the  Wolga  is  farther  from  me 
than  the  Rhone  was  from  Horace."  BOSWELL.  "  You 
must  be  pleased  with  this,  Sir."  JOHNSON.  "  I  am 
pleased,  Sir,  to  be  sure."  I  have  since  heard  that  the 
report  was  not  well  founded ;  but  the  elation  discovered 
by  Johnson  in  the  belief  that  it  was  true,  shewed  a  noble 
ardour  for  literary  fame. 

JAMES   BOSWELL 

Life  of  Johnson  (1791) 


PLAY-WRITING 


JOHNSON  :  But  wilt  thou  do  me  a  favour,  now  ? 
BAYES  :  Ay,  Sir  :  What  is't  ? 

JOHNS.  :  Why,  to  tell  him  the  meaning  of  thy  last  Play. 
BAYES  :  How,  Sir,  the  meaning  ?  do  you  mean  the  Plot. 
JOHNS.  :  Ay,  ay  ;  any  thing. 

BAYES  :  Faith,  Sir,  the  Intrigo's  now  quite  out  of  my  head ; 
but  I  have  a  new  one,  in  my  pocket,  that  I  may  say  is  a 
Virgin  ;  't  has  never  yet  been  blown  upon.  I  must  tell  you 
one  thing.  'Tis  all  new  Wit ;  and,  though  I  say  it,  a  better 
than  my  last :  and  you  know  well  enough  how  that  took. 
In  fine,  it  shall  read,  and  write,  and  act,  and  plot,  and 
shew,  ay,  and  pit,  box  and  gallery,  I  gad,  with  any  play 
in  Europe.  .  .  . 

BAYES  :  My  next  Rule  is  the  Rule  of  Record,  and  by  way 

of  Table-Book.  Pray  observe. 

JOHNS.  :  Well,  we  hear  you  :  go  on. 

BAYES  :  As  thus.  I  come  into  a  Coffee-House,  or  some 

other  place  where  wittie  men  resort,  I  make  as  if  I  minded 

nothing ;  (do  you  mark  ?)  but  as  soon  as  any  one  speaks, 

pop  I  flap  it  down,  and  make  that,  too  my  own. 

JOHNS.  :  But,  Mr  Bayes,  are  not  you  sometimes  in  danger 

of  their  making  you  restore,  by  force,  what  you  have 

gotten  thus  by  Art  ? 

BAYES  :  No,  Sir  ;  the  world's  unmindful :  they  never  take 

notice  of  these  things.  .  .  . 

BAYES  :  Whereupon  they  all  clapping — 
SMITH  :  But,  suppose  they  do  not. 
BAYES  :  Suppose  !  Sir,  you  may  suppose  what  you  please, 
BP  33 


I  have  nothing  to  do  with  your  suppose,  Sir,  nor  am  not 
at  all  mortifi'd  at  it ;  not  at  all,  Sir ;  I  gad,  not  one  jot. 
Suppose,  quoth  a  ! — (Walks  away.) 

JOHNS,  :  Phoo  !  pr'ythee,  Bayes,  don't  mind  what  he 
says  :  he's  a  fellow  newly  come  out  of  the  Country,  he 
knows  nothing  of  what's  the  relish,  here,  of  the  Town. 

BAYES  :  If  I  writ,  Sir,  to  please  the  Country,  I  should 
have  follow'd  the  old  plain  way ;  but  I  write  for  some 
persons  of  Quality,  and  peculiar  friends  of  mine,  that 
understand  what  Flame  and  power  in  writing  is  ;  and 
they  do  me  the  right,  Sir,  to  approve  of  what  I  do. 
JOHNS.:  Ay,  ay,  they  will  clap,  I  warrant  you;  never 
fear  it. 

BAYES  :  I'm  sure  the  design's  good ;  that  cannot  be 
deny'd.  And  then,  for  language,  I  gad,  I  defie  'em  all,  in 
nature,  to  mend  it.  Besides,  Sir,  I  have  printed  above  a 
hundred  sheets  of  papyr,  to  insinuate  the  Plot  into  the 
Boxes  :  and  withal,  have  appointed  two  or  three  dozen  of 
my  friends,  to  be  readie  in  the  Pit,  who,  I'm  sure,  will 
clap,  and  so  the  rest,  you  know,  must  follow ;  and  then, 
pray,  Sir,  what  becomes  of  your  suppose  ?  Ha,  ha,  ha. 
JOHNS.  :  Nay,  if  the  business  be  so  well  laid,  it  cannot  miss. 
BAYES  :  I  think  so,  Sir.  ...  If  I  could  engage  'em  to  clap, 
before  they  see  the  Play,  you  know  'twould  be  so  much  the 
better ;  because  then  they  were  engaged :  for,  let  a  man 
write  never  so  well,  there  are,  now-a-days,  a  sort  of 
persons,  they  call  Critiques,  that,  I  gad,  have  no  more  wit 
in  'em  than  so  many  Hobby-horses ;  but  they'l  laugh  you, 
Sir,  and  find  fault,  and  censure  things  that,  A  gad,  I'm 
sure  they  are  not  able  to  do  themselves.  A  sort  of  envious 
persons,  that  emulate  the  glories  of  persons  of  parts,  and 
think  to  build  their  fame,  by  calumniating  of  persons  that, 

34 


I  gad,  to  my  knowledge,  of  all  persons  in  the  world  are, 
in  nature,  the  persons  that  do  as  much  despise  all  that, 
as — a — in  fine,  Fl  say  no  more  of  'em. 
JOHNS.  :  Ay,  ay,  you  have  said  enough  of  'em  in  con- 
science :  Fm  sure  more  than  they'l  ever  be  able  to  answer. 
BAYES  :  Why,  Fl  tell  you,  Sir,  sincerely  and  bonafide',  were 
it  not  for  the  sake  of  some  ingenious  persons,  and  choice 
female  spirits,  that  have  a  value  for  me,  I  would  see  'em 
all  hang'd  before  I  would  e'er  more  set  pen  to  paper ; 
but  let  'em  live  in  ignorance  like  ingrates. 
JOHNS.  :  Ay  marry  !  that  were  a  way  to  be  reveng'd  on 
'em  indeed  :  and,  if  I  were  in  your  place,  now,  I  would 
do  it. 

BAYES  :  No,  Sir ;  there  are  certain  tyes  upon  me,  that  I 
cannot  be  disengag'd  from ;  otherwise,  I  would.  .  .  . 

BAYES  :  That's  very  good,  i'faith  :  ha,  ha,  ha.  ...  How,  do 
you  not  like  it  now,  Gentlemen  ?  Is  not  this  pure  Wit  ? 
SMITH  :  'Tis  snip  snap,  Sir,  as  you  say ;  but,  methinks,  not 
pleasant,  not  to  the  purpose,  for  the  Play  does  not  go  on. 
BAYES  :  Play  does  not  go  on  ?  I  don't  know  what  you 
mean  :  why,  is  not  this  part  of  the  Play  ? 
SMITH  :  Yes,  but  the  Plot  stands  still. 
BAYES  :  Plot  stand  still !  why,  what  a  Devil  is  the  Plot 
good  for,  but  to  bring  in  fine  things  ? 
SMITH  :  O,  I  did  not  know  that  before. 
BAYES  :  No,  I  think  you  did  not :  nor  many  things  more, 
that  I  am  Master  of.  Now,  Sir,  I  gad,  this  is  the  bane  of 
all  us  writers  :  let  us  soar  never  so  little  above  the  common 
pitch,  I  gad,  all's  spoil'd  ;  for  the  vulgar  never  understand 
us,  they  can  never  conceive  you,  Sir,  the  excellencie  of 
these  things. 

35 


JOHNS  :  'Tis  a  sad  fate,  I  must  confess  :  but  you  write  on 

still? 

BAYES  :  Write  on  ?  I  gad,  I  warrant  you.  'Tis  not  their 

talk  shall  stop  me  :  if  they  catch  me  at  that  lock,  I  give 

'em  leave  to  hang  me.  As  long  as  I  know  my  things  to  be 

good,  what  care  I  what  they  say  ? 

GEORGE  VILLIERS,  DUKE  OF  BUCKINGHAM 

The  Rehearsal  (1672) 


SUCCESS 

The  volume  of  my  history  .  .  .  was  now  ready  for  the 
press. . . .  During  this  awful  interval,  I  was  neitherjelatcd 
by ^he^ambition  ofjame,  nor^ depressed  by  the  apprehen- 
sijon^fcpntempt.  My  diligence  and  accuracy  were  attested 
by  my  own  conscience.  .  .  . 

I  am  at  a  loss  how  to  describe  the  success  of  the  work 
without  betraying  the  vanity  of  the  writer.  The  first 
impression  was  exhausted  in  a  few  days  ;  a  second  and 
third  edition  were  scarcely  adequate  to  the  demand,  and 
the  bookseller's  property  was  twice  invaded  by  the  pyrates 
of  Dublin.  My  book  was  on  every  table,  and  almost  on 
every  toilette ;  the  historian  was  crowned  by  the  taste  of 
fashion  of  the  day ;  nor  was  the  general  voice  disturbed 
by  the  barking  of  any  profane  critic.  .  .  . 

.  .  .  Twenty  happy  years  have  been  animated  by  the 
labour  of  my  history;  and  its  success  has  given  me  a  name, 
a  rank,  a  character,  in  the  World,  to  which  I  should  not 
otherwise  have  been  entitled.  The  freedom  of  my  writings 
has,  indeed,  provoked  an  implacable  tribe ;  but  as  I  was 
safe  from  the  stings,  I  was  soon  accustomed  to  the  buzzing 

36 


of  the  hornets  ;  my  nerves  are  not  tremblingly  alive  ;  and 
my  literary  temper  is  so  happily  framed,  that  I  am  more 
sensible  of  pleasure  than  pain.  The  rational  pride  of  an 
author  may  be  offended  rather  than  flattered  by  vague 
indiscriminate  praise ;  but  he  cannot,  he  should  not,  be 
indifferent  to  the  fair  testimonies  of  private  and  public 
esteem.  .  .  . 

EDWARD   GIBBON 

Autobiography  (1789) 


EASY  MONEY 


All  on  a  sudden  he  changed  his  mode  of  life,  shut  him- 
self up  in  his  rooms,  and  rarely  associated  with  any  one. 
In  the  course  of  a  few  weeks,  "  A  Ramble  through  Italy, 
by  the  Rev.  William  Moore,  Fellow  of  King's  College," 
was  announced  for  publication.  As  he  was  a  well-known 
character,  many  persons  were  very  desirous  to  see  the 
book.  The  adventures  related  (which  were  all  imaginary, 
as  he  had  never  been  out  of  England)  were  amusing 
enough,  although  some  of  them  were  highly  improbable. 
.  .  .  Moore  netted  three  hundred  guineas  by  his  Travels, 
and  as  he  spent  nothing  during  his  tour,  he  became  com- 
paratively a  rich  man,  and  was  enabled  to  compound  with 
some  of  the  most  urgent  of  his  creditors.  He  was  sub- 
sequently appointed  to  a  living,  by  which  he  was  enabled 
to  launch  again  into  the  gay  world  ;  but  his  conduct  was  so 
notorious  that  his  companions  were  of  a  less  respectable 
class  than  formerly.  (1796) 

HENRY  GUNNING 
Reminiscences  of  Cambridge  (1852) 

37 


NOT  WRITING 

BOSWELL  :  "  But   I   wonder.   Sir,  you  have  not  more 
pleasure  in  writing  than  in  not  writing." 
JOHNSON  :  "  Sir,  you  may  wonder." 

JAMES  BOSWELL 

Life  of  Johnson  (1791) 


POSTHUMOUS  GLORY 

O,  if  my  lot  should  give  me  such  a  friend,  who  knows  so 
well  how  to  honour  the  men  of  Phoebus  !  . . .  When  at  last, 
having  traversed  the  years  of  a  life  not  silent,  and  being 
full  of  years,  I  yield  to  my  ashes  their  rights,  this  friend 
would  stand,  with  wet  eyes,  beside  my  bier,  and  it  will  be 
enough  if  I  say  to  him,  standing  there,  "  Let  me  be  thy 
care."  He  would  carefully  and  gently  dispose  in  a  little 
urn  my  limbs,  loosened  by  livid  death.  And  perhaps  he 
would  carve  my  face  in  marble,  binding  my  locks  with  a 
wreath  of  Paphian  myrtle  or  laurel  of  Parnassus,  and  I 
should  rest  in  secure  peace.  Then,  so  far  as  there  is  any 
faith,  any  certain  reward  for  the  good,  I  myself,  removed 
to  the  heaven  of  the  sky-dwelling  gods,  to  wherever  toil 
and  a  pure  heart  and  flaming  excellence  are  borne,  shall 
watch  in  some  degree,  (so  far  as  the  fates  permit)  from 
that  retired  world  this  world  here,  and,  with  my  mind 
calmly  smiling,  shall  have  my  face  suffused  with  glorious 
light,  and  at  the  same  time  shall  joyfully  applaud  myself 
in  heavenly  Olympus. 

JOHN  MILTON 

Mansus  (1639)  (Trans,  from  Latin) 

38 


REVISION 


I  have  completed  all  things  so  exquisitely  to  my  minde 
that  I  would  not  for  all  the  world  but  that  I  had  had  this 
opportunity  of  revising  them,  so  fond  am  I  of  the  frutes  of 
my  own  minde,  which  yet  I  think  I  should  not  be,  did  I 
not  hope  that  they  will  be  very  serviceable  to  the  World 
in  their  chiefest  concernes. 

HENRY   MORE 

Letter  to  Lady  Conway  (1662) 


BATHING 


PLEASURES  OF  SWIMMING 


From  the  twentieth  day  of  May  unto  the  twentieth  of 
August,  we  may  commodiously  adventure  our  Bodies  in 
the  water. . . . 

If  you  can  swim,  leap  into  the  water ;  but  if  not,  then 
walk  gently  in,  till  you  have  waded  so  deep  that  the  water 
covers  your  belly,  and  is  up  to  your  middle  :  then  spread 
your  body  flat  upon  the  waters,  and  endeavour  to  swim 
with  a  good  courage.  .  .  . 

He  that  does  them  [swimming  exercises]  with  dexterity, 
and  can  exercise  them  all  as  easily  as  he  can  see  the  Sun, 

39 


all  persons  will  call  him  Neptunes  Nephew,  The  Captain  of 
the  Sea ;  and  will  never  cease  filling  their  minds  with 
his  praise.  .  .  . 

Besides  the  delight  of  the  mind  that  the  party  swimming 
hath,  there  is  much  profit  or  use  ;  for  he  may  swim  to  any 
shear,  and  view  it  all  the  time  he  is  Swimming.  .  .  . 

Touch  your  Toes  [while  swimming]  and  handle  them 
as  you  please,  and  pare  them  at  pleasure,  for  you  may 
safely  do  it,  and  without  danger. 

WILLIAM   PERCY 

The  Compleat  Swimmer,  or  the  Art  of  Swimming  (1658) 
Adapted  from  Everard  Digby's  De  Arte  Natandi 

(1587) 


NIGHT  BATHE 


It  was  in  June,  and  'twas  on  Barnaby  Bright  too, 
A  time  when  the  days  are  long,  and  nights  are  short, 
A  crew  of  merry  Girles,  and  that  in  the  night  too, 
Resolv'd  to  wash  in  a  river,  and  there  to  sport ; 
And  there  (poore  things)  they  then  resolv'd  to  be  merry 

too, 

And  with  them  did  bring  good  store  of  junketting  stuff  e, 
As  Bisket,  and  Cakes,  and  Sugar,  and  Syder,  and  Perry 

too, 
Of  each  such  a  quantity,  that  was  more  than  enough. 

But  mark  what  chanct  unto  this  innocent  crew  then, 
Who  thought  themselves  secure  from  any  eare  ; 
They  knew  twas  dark,  that  none  coud  take  a  view  then, 
And  all  did  seem  to  be  voyd  of  any  feare  ; 
\  40 


Then  every  one  uncas'd  themselves,  both  smock  and  all 

And  each  expected  first  who  should  begin  ; 

And  that  they  might  stay  but  an  houre,  they  told  the 

Clock  and  all ; 
Then  all  in  a  Te-he-ing  vaine  did  enter  in. 

But  now  comes  out  the  Tale  I  meant  to  tell  ye, 
For  a  Crew  of  Jovial  Lads  were  there  before. 
And  finding  there  some  viands  for  their  belly, 
They  eas'd  em  then  poor  hearts  of  all  their  store  ; 
Then  every  Lad  sate  down  upon  the  Grasse  there, 
And  whisper'd  thanks  to  th'  Girls  for  all  their  good 

Cheare. 

In  which  they  drank  a  health  to  every  Lass  there, 
That  then  were  washing  and  rinsing  without  any  fear. 

And  when  they  had  pleas'd  (and  fill'd)  their  bellies  and 

pallats  too, 

They  back  did  come  unto  the  foresaid  place, 
And  took  away  their  Smocks,  and  both  their  Wallets 

too, 
We  brought  their  good  Bubb,  and  left  them  in  pittifull 

case, 

For  presently  they  all  came  out  to  th'  larder  there, 
That  it  put  'em  unto  their  shifts  their  Smocks  to  find ; 
I  think,  says  one,  my  shift  is  a  little  farder  there, 
I,  I,  sayes  another,  for  yours  did  lye  by  mine. 

At  last,  says  one,  the  Divel  a  smock  is  here  at  all. 
The  Devil,  a  bit  of  bread,  or  drop  of  drink, 
They've  took  every  morsel  of  our  good  cheare  and  all, 
And  nothing  but  Gowns  and  Petticoats  left,  as  I  think, 

41 


At  last,  says  one,  if  they'd  give  us  our  Smocks  agen, 
And  likewise  part  of  what  we  hither  brought, 
We  shall  be  much  obliegd,  and  think  'em  Gentlemen, 
And  by  this  foolish  example  be  better  taught. 

Although  in  the  River  they  were  as  merry  as  crickets 

there, 

Twixt  laughing  and  fretting  their  state  they  did  con- 
dole ; 
And  then  came  one  of  the  Lads  from  out  of  the  thickets 

there, 
And  told  'em  hee'd  bring  'em  their  smocks,  and  what 

was  stole  ; 
They  only  with  Petticoats  on,  like  Jipsies  were  clad  in 

then, 
He    brought   'em   their    Smocks,    and    what   he    had 

promis'd  before  ; 

They  fell  to  eat,  and  drink  as  if  they'd  been  mad  there, 
And  glad  they  were  all,  they'd  got  so  much  of  their 

store. 

And  when  they  all  had  made  a  good  repast  there, 
They  put  on  their  cloths,  and  all  resolv'd  to  be  gone  ; 
Then  out  comes  all  the  ladds  in  very  great  hast  there, 
And  every  one  to  the  other  then  was  known  ; 
The  girles  did  then  conjure  the  ladds  that  were  there, 
To  what  had  past  their  lipps  shoud  still  be  seald, 
Nay  more  than  that  they  made  'em  all  to  swear  there, 
To  which  they  did,  that  nothing  should  be  reveald. 

Then  each  at  other  did  make  a  pass  at  kissing  then, 
And  round  it  went  to  e  /ery  one  level  coile, 
But  thinking  that  at  home  they  might  be  missing  then, 
And  fear'd  that  they  had  stay'd  too  great  a  while, 

42 


Then  hand  in  hand  they  alltogether  marcht  away. 
And  every  lad  convey'd  his  Mistris  home, 
Agen  they  kist,  then  every  Lass  her  man  did  pray, 
That  what  had  past,  no  more  of  that  but  Mum. 

ANON 
The  Bathing  of  the  Girles  (Westminster  Drollery,  //, 

1672) 


USES  OF  SWIMMING 


The  skill  and  art  of  swimming  is  also  very  requisite  in 
every  Noble  and  Gentleman,  especially  if  he  looketh  for 
employment  in  the  warres,  for  hereby  (besides  the  pre- 
serving of  his  owne  life  upon  infinite  occasions),  he  may 
many  wayes  annoy  his  enemy.  Horatius  Codes  onely  by 
the  benefit  of  swimming  saved  his  countrey,  for  when 
himselfe  alone  had  long  defended  and  made  good  the 
Bridge  over  Tyber  against  the  Hetruscans,  the  Romanes 
brake  it  downe  behind  him,  wherewith,  in  his  Armour 
he  cast  himselfe  into  the  River  and  .  .  .  swam  with 
safetie  into  the  Citie,  which  rewarded  him  with  a  Statue 
erected  in  the  Market  place.  .  .  . 

And  as  resolute  was  that  attempt  ...  of  Gerrard  and 
Harvey,  two  Gentlemen  of  our  own  Nation,  who  in 
eightie  eight  in  the  fight  at  Sea,  swam  in  the  night  time, 
and  pierced  with  Awgers,  or  such  like  instruments,  the 
sides  of  the  Spanish  Galleons,  and  returned  back  safe  to 
the  Fleete. 

HENRY  PEACHAM 

The  Compleat  Gentleman  (1622) 
43 


A  FEAT 

Julius  Caesar  being  hard  put  to  it  neere  Alexandria  leaped 
into  the  sea  and  laying  some  bookes  on  his  head  made  shift 
to  swimme  a  good  way  with  one  hand. 

SIR   THOMAS   BROWNE 

Notes  from  Commonplace  Books  (undated) 


THE  PRIVATE  BATHE 

The  four  and  twentieth  Day  of  May, 

of  all  times  in  the  Year, 
A  Virgin  Lady  bright  and  gay, 

did  privately  appear 
Close  by  the  River  side,  which  she 

did  single  out  the  rather, 
Cause  she  was  sure,  it  was  secure, 

and  had  intent  to  Bathe  her. 

With  glittering  Glance,  her  jealous  Eyes, 

did  slyly  look  about, 
To  see  if  any  lurking  Spies, 

were  hid  to  find  her  out : 
And  being  well  resolv'd  that  none 

could  view  her  Nakedness  ; 
She  puts  her  Robes  off,  one  by  one, 

and  doth  her  self  undress.  .  .  . 

Into  a  fluent  stream  she  leapt, 
which  look'd  like  Liquid  Glass  ; 

The  Fishes  from  all  quarters  crept, 
to  see  what  Angel  'twas  ; 

44 


She  did  so  like  a  Vision  look, 

or  Fancy  in  a  Dream, 
'Twas  thought  the  Sun  the  Sky  forsook ; 

and  dropt  into  the  stream.  .  .  . 

Thus  was  the  Rivers  Diamond  head, 

with  Pearls  and  Saphir  crown'd  : 
Her  Legs  did  shove,  her  Arms  did  move, 

her  Body  did  rebound  : 
She  then  did  quaff  the  Juice  of  Joy, 

fair  Venus  Queen  of  Love 
With  Mars  did  never  in  more  ways, 

of  melting  motion  move  !  .  .  . 

ANON 

The  Swimming  Lady  :  .  .  .  Being  a  true  Relation  of  a 
Coy  Lady  .  .  .  Swimming  in  a  River  near  Oxford 

(late  i  yth  c.) 


IN  THE  HELLESPONT 

When  I  who  was  Amans,  which  we  translate 

A  Lover,  stole  out  of  my  Fathers  Gate, 

And  having  put  off  all  my  cloathes  strait  way, 

My  armes  through  the  moyst  sea  did  cut  their  way, 

The  Moone  did  yeeld  a  glimmering  light  to  me, 

Which  all  the  way  did  beare  me  company. 

I  looking  on  her  said,  Some  favour  have 

Towards  me,  and  thinke  upon  the  Latmain  Cave. 

O  favour  me  !  for  thy  Endymions  sake, 

Prosper  this  stollen  journey  which  I  take.  .  .  . 

When  I  these  words,  or  else  the  like  had  said, 
My  passage  through  the  sea  by  night  I  made. 

45 


The  Moones  bright  beames  were  in  the  water  scene. 

And  'twas  as  light  as  if  it  day  had  beene. 

No  noise  or  voyce  unto  my  eares  did  come. 

But  the  murmure  of  the  water  when  I  swum. 

Only  the  Alcyons  soe  lov'd  Coeyds  sake 

Seemed  by  night  a  sweet  complaint  to  make. 

But  when  my  armes  to  grow  tir'd  did  begin, 

Unto  the  top  of  the  waves  I  did  spring 

But  when  I  saw  thy  torch,  O  then  quoth  I, 

Where  that  fire  blazeth,  my  faire  love  doth  lye. 

For  that  same  shore,  said  I,  doth  her  containe 

Who  is  my  goddesse,  my  fire,  and  my  flame. 

These  words  to  my  armes  did  such  strength  restore, 

Me  thought  the  Sea  grew  calmer  than  before. 

The  coldnesse  of  the  waves  I  seem'd  to  scorne, 

For  love  did  keepe  my  amorous  heart  still  warme. 

The  neerer  I  came  to  the  shoare,  I  find 

The  greater  courage  and  more  strength  of  mind. 

But  when  I  could  by  thee  discerned  be 

Thou  gav'st  me  courage  by  looking  on  me. 

Then  to  please  thee,  my  Mistresse,  I  begin 

To  spread  my  armes  abroad,  and  strongly  swim. 

Thy  Nurse  from  leaping  downe  could  scarce  stay 

thee ; 

This  without  flattery  I  did  also  see, 
And  though  she  did  restraine  thee,  thou  didst  come 
Downe  to  the  shoare,  and  to  the  waves  didst  run, 
And  to  imbrace  and  kiss  me  didst  begin  : 
The  gods  to  get  such  kisses  sure  would  swim. 

OVID 

Heroides  XVIII  (c.  15  B.C.) 
Trans.  Wye  Saltonstall  (1639) 


46 


BOTTOM  OF  THE  PACIFIC 


I  shall  never  forget  my  surprise  and  delight  on  first  behold- 
ing the  bottom  of  the  sea.  The  water  within  the  reef  was 
as  calm  as  a  pond  ;  and  as  there  was  no  wind,  it  was  quite 
clear,  from  the  surface  to  the  bottom,  so  that  we  could  see 
down  easily  even  at  a  depth  of  twenty  or  thirty  yards. 
When  Jack  and  I  dived  in  shallower  water,  we  expected  to 
have  found  sand  and  stones,  instead  of  which  we  found 
ourselves  in  what  appeared  really  to  be  an  enchanted 
garden.  The  whole  of  the  bottom  of  the  lagoon,  as  we 
called  the  calm  water  within  the  reef,  was  covered  with 
coral  of  every  shape,  size  and  hue.  Some  portions  were 
formed  like  large  mushrooms  ;  others  appeared  like  the 
brain  of  a  man,  having  stalks  or  necks  attached  to  them  ; 
but  the  most  common  kind  was  a  species  of  branching 
coral,  and  some  portions  were  of  a  lovely  pale  pink  colour, 
others  pure  white.  Among  this  there  grew  large  quantities 
of  sea- weed  of  the  richest  hues  imaginable,  and  of  the  most 
graceful  forms  ;  while  innumerable  fishes — blue,  red, 
yellow,  green  and  striped — sported  in  and  out  among  the 
flower-beds  of  this  submarine  garden,  and  did  not  appear  to 
be  at  all  afraid  of  our  approaching  them.  .  .  .  When  Jack 
reached  the  bottom,  he  grasped  the  coral  stems,  and  crept 
along  on  his  hands  and  knees,  peeping  under  the  sea-weed 
and  among  the  rocks.  I  observed  him  pick  up  one  or  two 
oysters  ...  so  I  also  gathered  a  few. 

R.   M.   BALLANTYNE 
The  Coral  Island  (1860) 


47 


PRYING  ACTAEON 


Diana  and  her  Darlings  dear, 

went  walking  on  a  day, 
Throughout  the  Woods  and  Waters  clear, 

for  their  disports  and  play  ; 
The  leaves  aloft  were  very  green 

and  pleasant  to  be  hold  ; 
These  Nymps  then  walkt  the  trees  between 

under  the  shadows  cold. 
So  long,  at  last  they  found  a  place 

of  Springs  and  Waters  clear, 
A  fairer  Bath  there  never  was 

found  out  this  thousand  year  : 
Wherein  Diana.,  daintily, 

herself  began  to  bathe, 
And  all  her  Virgins  fair  and  pure, 

themselves  do  wash  and  lave  : 
And  as  the  Nymps  in  water  stood, 

Acteon  passed  by, 
As  he  came  running  thro  the  Wood, 

on  them  he  cast  his  Eye,  .  .  . 
You  hunters  all,  that  range  the  Woods, 

although  you  rise  up  rath. 
Beware  you  come  not  nigh  the  Flood, 

were  Virgins  use  to  bathe  : 
For  if  Diana  you  espy, 

among  her  Darlings  dear, 
Your  former  Shape  she  will  disguise 

and  make  you  horns  to  wear. 
48 


And  so  do  I  conclude  my  Song, 

having  nothing  to  alledge  : 

If  Acteon  had  Right  or  Wrong, 

let  all  true  Virgins  judge. 

ANON 

An  excellent  New  Sonnet,  Shewing  how  the  Goddess 
Diana  Transformed  Acteon  into  the  Shape  of  a  Hart 

(late  I yth  c.) 


AT  SCARBOROUGH 

Betwixt  the  well  and  the  harbour,  the  bathing  machines 
are  ranged  along  the  beach,  with  all  their  proper  utensils 
and  attendants — you  have  never  seen  one  of  these 
machines.  Imagine  to  yourself  a  small,  snug,  wooden 
chamber,  fixed  upon  a  wheel-carriage,  having  a  door  at 
each  end,  and  on  each  side  a  little  window  above,  a  bench 
below, — the  bather,  ascending  into  this  apartment  by 
wooden  steps,  shuts  himself  in,  and  begins  to  undress, 
while  the  attendant  yokes  a  horse  to  the  end  next  the  sea, 
and  draws  the  carriage  forwards,  till  the  surface  of  the 
water  is  on  a  level  with  the  floor  of  the  dressing-room.  ,  .  . 
The  person  within  being  stripped,  opens  the  door  to  the 
seaward,  where  he  finds  the  guide  ready,  and  plunges  head- 
long in  the  water — After  having  bathed,  he  re-ascends  into 
the  apartment  .  .  .  and  puts  on  his  clothes  at  his  leasure, 
while  the  carriage  is  drawn  back  again  upon  the  dry  land  ; 
.  .  .  The  guides  who  attend  to  the  ladies  in  the  water,  are 
of  their  own  sex,  and  they  and  the  female  bathers  have 
a  dress  of  flannel  for  the  sea  ;  nay,  they  are  provided  with 
other  conveniences  for  the  support  of  decorum.  A  certain 

49 


number  of  the  machines  are  fitted  with  tilts,  that  project 
from  the  seaward  ends  of  them,  so  as  to  screen  the  bathers 
from  the  view  of  all  persons  whatsoever — . . .  For  my  part, 
I  love  swimming  as  an  exercise,  and  can  enjoy  it  at  all 
times  of  the  tide,  without  the  formality  of  an  apparatus 
— You  and  I  have  often  plunged  together  into  the  Isis  ; 
but  the  sea  is  a  much  more  noble  bath,  for  health  as  well 
as  pleasure.  You  cannot  conceive  what  a  flow  of  spirits  it 
gives,  and  how  it  braces  every  sinew  of  the  human  frame. 
Were  I  to  enumerate  half  the  diseases  which  are  every  day 
cured  by  sea-bathing,  you  might  justly  say  you  had 
received  a  treatise,  instead  of  a  letter. 

TOBIAS   SMOLLETT 

Humphrey  Clinker  (1771) 


HOLY  WATER 


As  I  was  troubled  with  fits,  she  advised  me  to  bathe  in 
the  loff,  which  was  holy  water  ;  and  so  I  went  in  the  morn- 
ing to  a  private  place  along  with  the  housemaid,  and  we 
bathed  in  our  birth-day  soot,  after  the  fashion  of  the 
country  ;  and  behold,  whilst  we  dabbled  in  the  loff.  Sir 
George  Coon  started  up  with  a  gun  ;  but  we  clapt  our 
hands  to  our  faces,  and  passed  by  him  to  the  place  where 
we  had  left  our  smocks — A  civil  gentleman  would  have 
turned  his  head  another  way. — My  comfit  is,  he  new  not 
which  was  which,  and,  as  the  saying  is,  All  cats  in  the 
dark  are  grey. 

Ibid. 


ROYALTY  AT  WEYMOUTH 

The  King  bathes,  and  with  great  success  ;  a  machine 
follows  the  Royal  one  into  the  sea,  filled  with  fiddlers, 
who  play  "  God  Save  the  King,"  as  His  Majesty  takes 

his  PlunSC  !  FANNY  BURNEY 

Diary  (July  8,  1789) 


A  TUSCAN  FOREST  POOL 

In  the  middle  of  the  day,  I  bathe  in  a  pool  or  fountain 
formed  in  the  middle  of  the  forests  by  a  torrent .  It  is  sur- 
rounded on  all  sides  by  precipitous  rocks,  and  the  waterfall 
of  the  stream  which  forms  it  falls  into  it  on  one  side  with 
perpetual  dashing.  Close  to  it,  on  the  top  of  the  rocks,  are 
alders,  and  above,  the  great  chestnut  trees,  whose  long  and 
pointed  leaves  pierce  the  deep  blue  sky  in  strong  relief. 
The  water  of  this  pool  ...  is  as  transparent  as  the  air,  so 
that  the  stones  and  sand  at  the  bottom  seem,  as  it  were, 
trembling  in  the  light  of  noonday.  It  is  exceedingly  cold 
also.  My  custom  is  to  undress  and  sit  on  the  rocks,  read- 
ing Herodotus,  until  the  perspiration  has  subsided,  and 
then  to  leap  from  the  edge  of  the  rock  into  this  fountain 
— a  practice  in  the  hot  weather  exceedingly  refreshing. 
This  torrent  is  composed,  as  it  were,  of  a  succession  of 
pools  and  waterfalls,  up  which  I  sometimes  amuse  myself 
by  climbing  when  I  bathe,  and  receiving  the  spray  all  over 
my  body,  whilst  I  clamber  up  the  moist  crags  with 

P.   B.   SHELLEY 

Letter  to  T.  L.  Peacock  (1818) 


BEING  FLATTERED 


BY  POLYPHEMUS 

I  heard  the  Ruffian-Shepherd  rudely  blow, 
Where,  in  a  hollow  cave,  I  sate  below ; 
On  Ads9  bosom  I  my  Head  reclin'd  : 
And  still  preserve  the  Poem  in  my  Mind. 

Oh,  lovely  Galatea,  whiter  far 
Than  falling  Snows,  and  rising  Lilies  are ; 
More  flowery  than  the  Meads,  as  Crystal  bright  : 
Erect  as  Alders,  and  of  equal  Height  : 
More  wanton  than  a  Kid,  more  sleek  thy  Skin, 
Than  Orient  Shells,  that  on  the  Shore  are  seen. 
Than  Apples  fairer,  when  the  Boughs  they  lade  ; 
Pleasing,  as  Winter  Suns,  or  Summer  Shade  : 
More  grateful  to  the  Sight,  than  goodly  Plains  ; 
And  softer  to  the  Touch,  than  Down  of  Swans  ; 
Or  Curds  new-turn'd  ;  and  sweeter  to  the  Taste 
Than  swelling  Grapes,  that  to  the  Vintage  haste  : 
More  clear  than  Ice,  or  running  Streams,  that  stray 
Through  Garden  Plots,  but  ah  !  more  swift  than  they. 

Yet,  Galatea,  harder  to  be  broke 
Than  Bullocks,  unreclaim'd,  to  bear  the  Yoke, 
And  far  more  stubborn,  than  the  knotted  Oak  : 
52 


Like  sliding  Streams,  impossible  to  hold  ; 
Like  them,  fallacious,  like  their  Fountains,  cold, 
More  warping,  than  the  Willow,  to  decline 
My  warm  Embrace,  more  brittle  than  the  Vine  ; 
Immoveable,  and  fixt  in  thy  Disdain  : 
Rough  as  these  Rocks,  and  of  a  harder  Grain. 
More  violent  than  is  the  rising  Flood  : 
And  the  prais'd  Peacock  is  not  half  so  proud. 
Fierce  as  the  Fire,  and  sharp,  as  Thistles  are, 
And  more  outragious  than  a  Mother-bear  : 
Deaf  as  the  Billows,  to  the  Vows  I  make  ; 
And  more  revengeful  than  a  trodden  Snake. 
In  Swiftness  than  the  flying  Hind, 
Or  driven  Tempests,  or  the  driving  Wind. 
All  other  Faults  with  Patience  I  can  bear  ; 
But  swiftness  is  the  Vice  I  only  fear. 

JOHN    DRYDEN 

Ads,  Polyphemus  and  Galatea  (1700) 
From  Ovid,  Aietamorphoses  (c.  5  B.C.) 


BY  ENGLISH  LADIES 

Byron  says  that  the  number  of  anonymous  amatory 
letters  and  portraits  he  has  received,  and  all  from  English 
ladies,  would  fill  a  large  volume.  He  says  he  has  never 
noticed  any  of  them  ;  but  it  is  evident  he  recurs  to  them 
with  complacency. 

LADY   BLESSINGTON 

Journal  of  Conversations  with  Lord  Byron 

(1834) 
53 


BY  PROCTORS 


Mr.  John  Herne  of  Exeter,  the  senior  proctor  for  the  last 
year,  made  a  speech  for  his  farewell,  wherein  he  flattered 
the  undergraduates,  stiling  them  "  florentissimi  juvenes," 
men  that  are  examples  rather  than  to  be  made  examples. 
Soe  Shepen  also  flattered  them  which  made  them  the 
ruder  and  debaucht.  So  impudent  they  were  at  this  time 
that  they  kicked  a  barrell  or  a  kidderkin  that  lay  in  the 
street  up  Kat  Street  and  to  Wadham  College  gate  even 
with  the  proctors. 

ANTHONY   WOOD 

Life  and  Times  (1665) 


BY  FOREIGN  VISITORS 


He  was  mightily  importuned  to  goe  into  France  and  Italic. 
Foraigners  came  much  to  see  him,  and  much  admired 
him,  and  offered  him  great  preferments,  to  come  over  to 
them,  and  the  only  inducement  of  severall  foreigners  that 
came  over  into  England,  was  chiefly  to  see  O.  Protector 
and  Mr.  J.  Milton,  and  would  see  the  house  and  chamber 
wher  he  was  borne  :  he  was  much  more  admired  abrode 
then  at  home. 

JOHN  AUBREY 

Brief  Lives  :  John  Milton  (c.  1680) 


54 


BY  ALL  THE  WORLD 


March  5,  1668.  I  began  our  defence  most  acceptably  and 
smoothly,  and  continued  at  it  without  any  hesitation  or 
loss,  but  with  full  scope,  and  all  my  reason  free  about  me, 
as  if  it  had  been  at  my  own  table  ...  till  past  three  in  the 
afternoon  ;  and  so  ended,  without  any  interruption  from 
the  Speaker.  . . .  And  all  the  world  that  was  within  hearing 
did  congratulate  me,  and  cry  up  my  speech  as  the  best 
thing  they  ever  heard  ;  and  my  Fellow  Officers  overjoyed 
in  it  ...  and  everybody  says  I  have  got  the  most  honour 
that  any  could  have  had  the  opportunity  of  getting. 
March  6.  Up  betimes,  and  ...  to  Sir  W.  Coventry's 
chamber  ;  where  the  first  word  he  said  to  me  was,  "  Good- 
morrow,  Mr  Pepys,  that  must  be  Speaker  of  the  Parlia- 
ment-house :  "  and  did  protest  I  had  got  honour  for  ever 
in  Parliament.  He  said  that  his  brother,  that  sat  by  him, 
admires  me  ;  and  another  gentleman  said  that  I  could  not 
get  less  than  £1,000  a  year  if  I  would  put  on  a  gown  and 
plead  at  the  Chancery-bar  ;  but,  what  pleased  me  most, 
he  tells  me  that  the  Sollicitor-Generall  did  protest  that 
he  thought  I  spoke  the  best  of  any  man  in  England.  ...  I 
to  the  Duke  of  York's  lodgings  .  .  .  and,  as  soon  as  he  saw 
me,  he  told  me,  with  great  satisfaction  that  I  had  con- 
verted a  great  many  yesterday,  and  did,  with  great  praise 
of  me,  go  on  the  discourse  with  me.  And,  by  and  by,  over- 
taking the  King,  the  King  and  Duke  of  York  come  to  me 
both  ;  and  he  said, "  Mr  Pepys,  I  am  very  glad  of  your  suc- 
cess yesterday ;  "  and  fell  to  talk  of  my  well  speaking,  and 
many  of  the  Lords  there.  My  Lord  Barkeley  did  cry  me 
up  for  what  they  had  heard  of  it ;  and  others,  Parliament- 
men  there,  about  the  King,  did  say  that  they  never  heard 

55 


such  a  speech  in  their  lives  delivered  in  that  manner. 
Progers,  of  the  Bedchamber,  swore  to  me  ...  that  he  did 
tell  the  King  that  he  thought  I  might  teach  the  Solicitor- 
General.  Everybody  that  saw  me  almost  come  to  me,  as 
Joseph  Williamson  and  others,  with  such  eulogy  as  cannot 
be  expressed.  From  thence  I  went  to  Westminster  Hall, 
where  I  met  Mr  G.  Montagu,  who  come  to  me  and  kissed 
me,  and  told  me  that  he  had  often  heretofore  kissed  my 
hands,  but  now  he  would  kiss  my  lips  :  protesting  that  I 
was  another  Cicero,  and  said  all  the  world  said  the  same  of 
me.  ...  Every  creature  I  met  there  of  the  Parliament,  or 
that  knew  anything  of  the  Parliament's  actings,  did  salute 
me  with  this  honour  :  .  .  .  Mr  Sands,  who  swore  he  would 
go  twenty  mile,  at  any  time,  to  hear  the  like  again,  and 
that  he  never  saw  so  many  sit  four  hours  together  to  hear 
any  man  in  his  life. . .  .  Mr  Chichly, — Sir  John  Duncomb, 
— and  everybody  do  say  that  the  kingdom  will  ring  of  my 
abilities,  and  that  I  have  done  myself  right  for  my  whole 
life  :  and  so  Captain  Cooke,  and  others  of  my  friends, 
say  that  no  man  had  ever  such  an  opportunity  of  making 
his  abilities  known  ;  .  .  .  Mr  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower  did 
tell  me  that  Mr  Vaughan  did  protest  to  him  .  .  ,  that  he 
had  sat  twenty-six  years  in  Parliament  and  never  heard 
such  a  speech  there  before  :  for  which  the  Lord  God 
make  me  thankful  !  and  that  I  may  make  use  of  it  not  to 
pride  and  vain-glory,  but  that,  now  I  have  this  esteem,  I 
may  do  nothing  that  may  lessen  it  !  I  spent  the  morning 
thus  walking  in  the  Hall,  being  complimented  by  every- 
body with  admiration  :  .  .  .  and  after  dinner  with  Sir  W. 
Pen,  who  come  to  my  house  to  call  me,  to  White  Hall,  to 
wait  on  the  Duke  of  York,  where  he  again  and  all  the  com- 
pany magnified  me,  and  several  in  the  Gallery :  among 
others  my  Lord  Gerard,  who  never  knew  me  before  or 

56 


spoke  to  me,  desires  his  being  better  acquainted  with  me  ; 
and  that,  at  table  where  he  was,  he  never  heard  so  much 
said  of  any  man  as  of  me,  in  his  whole  life. 
March  8.  (Lord's  Day).  Sir  J.  Robinson,  Lieutenant  of 
the  Tower,  did  call  me  with  his  coach,  and  carried  me  to 
White  Hall,  where  met  with  very  many  people  still  that 
did  congratulate  my  speech  the  other  day  in  the  House 
of  Commons,  and  I  find  the  world  almost  rings  of  it. 

SAMUEL   PEPYS 

Diary  (March,  1668) 


BY  A  WOODEN  FIGURE 


Who  would  believe  the  proud  Person  I  am  going  to  speak 
of,  is  a  Cobler  upon  Ludgate-Hill  ?  This  Artist  being 
naturally  a  Lover  of  Respect,  and  considering  that  no  Man 
living  will  give  it  him,  has  contrived  the  Figure  of  a  Beau 
in  Wood,  who  stands  before  him  in  a  bending  Posture, 
with  his  Hat  under  his  Left  Arm,  and  his  Right  Hand 
extended  in  such  a  Manner  as  to  hold  a  Thread,  a  Piece 
of  Wax,  or  an  Awl,  according  to  the  particular  Service  in 
which  his  Master  thinks  fit  to  employ  him.  When  I  saw 
him,  he  held  a  Candle  in  this  obsequious  Posture.  I  was 
very  well  pleased  with  the  Cobler's  Invention,  that  had 
so  ingeniously  contrived  an  Inferior,  and  stood  a  little 
while  contemplating  this  inverted  Idolatry,  wherein  the 
Image  did  Homage  to  the  Man. 

RICHARD   STEELE 

Lucubrations  of  Isaac  Bickcrstaff 
Tatler,  No.  127  (1709) 

57 


DRIVES  PEOPLE  MAD 

If  there  was  an  Occasion  for  the  Experiment,  I  would  not 
question  to  make  a  proud  Man  a  Lunatick  in  three  Weeks 
Time,  provided  I  had  it  in  my  Power  to  ripen  his  Phrensy 
with  proper  Applications.  .  .  .  When  I  was  in  France  (the 
Region  of  Complaisance  and  Vanity)  I  have  often  observ- 
ed, That  a  great  Man  who  has  entered  a  Levy  of  Flatterers 
humble  and  temperate,  has  grown  so  insensibly  heated  by 
the  Court  which  was  paid  him  on  all  sides,  that  he  has 
been  quite  distracted  before  he  could  get  into  his  Coach. 

Ibid. 


BY  FOREIGN  AMBASSADORS 

A  foreign  minister  of  no  very  high  talents,  who  had  been 
in  his  company  for  a  considerable  time  quite  overlooked, 
happened  luckily  to  mention  that  he  had  read  some  of  his 
Rambler  in  Italian,  and  admired  it  much.  This  pleased  him 
greatly ;  .  .  .  and  finding  that  this  minister  gave  such  a 
proof  of  his  taste,  he  was  all  attention  to  him,  and  on  the 
first  remark  which  he  made,  however  simple,  exclaimed, 
"  The  Ambassador  says  well ; — his  Excellency  observes — " 
And  then  he  expanded  and  enriched  the  little  that  had 
been  said  in  so  strong  a  manner  that  it  appeared  something 
of  consequence.  This  was  exceedingly  entertaining  to  the 
company  who  were  present.  ..."  The  Ambassador  says 
well"  became  a  laughable  term  of  applause,  when  no 
mighty  matter  had  been  expressed. 

&     J  ^  JAMES  BOSWELL 

Life  of  Johnson  (1791) 

58 


BY  ANY  ONE 


BOSWELL  : cc  No  quality  will  get  a  man  more  friends  than  a 
disposition  to  admire  the  qualities  of  others.  I  do  not  mean 
flattery,  but  a  sincere  admiration."  JOHNSON  :  cc  Nay,  Sir, 
flattery  pleases  very  generally.  In  the  first  place,  the 
flatterer  may  think  what  he  says  to  be  true  :  but  in  the 
second  place,  whether  he  thinks  so  or  not,  he  certainly 
thinks  those  whom  he  flatters  of  consequence  enough  to 
be  flattered." 

Ibid. 


BEING  SENT  DOWN 


AGREEABLE  EXILE 


I  am  in  that  city  which  the  Thames  washes  with  its  flowing 
waters  ;  I  am  detained,  and  not  unwillingly,  in  my  delight- 
ful home.  I  have  now  no  anxiety  to  revisit  the  reedy  Cam, 
nor  does  desire  for  my  rooms  there,  which  have  been  for 
some  time  denied  me,  trouble  me.  Bare  fields,  that  refuse 
pleasant  shade,  don't  please  me ;  how  ill  that  place  suits 
the  disciples  of  Phoebus !  I  don't  care  to  put  up  continu- 
ally with  the  threats  of  a  harsh  master,  and  the  other 

59 


things  that  my  nature  won't  endure.  If  it  be  exile  to  be  in 
one's  father's  home,  and,  free  from  worries,  to  pursue 
the  pleasures  of  leisure,  then  I  don't  refuse  the  name,  nor 
yet  the  state,  of  exile ;  I  enjoy  its  conditions  cheerfully. 
Would  that  the  lamenting  poet  who  was  exiled  in  Tomi 
had  never  endured  anything  worse.  .  .  .  For  here  I  can 
give  free  time  to  the  gentle  Muses,  and  books,  which  are 
my  very  life,  seize  me  wholly.  From  these,  when  I  am 
tired,  the  spectacle  of  the  rounded  theatre  summons  me, 
and  the  garrulous  stage  calls  me  to  applause,  whether  it  be 
the  sagacious  old  man  who  is  on  the  boards,  or  the  prodi- 
gal heir,  or  the  suitor,  or  the  soldier  with  his  helmet  laid 
aside,  or  whether  the  advocate,  enriched  by  a  ten-years' 
law-suit,  thunders  out  his  barbarous  words  to  an  ignorant 
court,  or  (as  often)  the  cunning  servant  is  aiding  the  lover 
son,  and  tricking  the  nose  of  the  hard  father —  Or  furious 
Tragedy  shakes  her  bloody  sceptre,  and  rolls  her  eyes,  with 
wild  locks,  and  it  is  painful  to  look,  yet  I  look,  and  in 
looking  find  pleasure  while  it  pains  me,  for  sometimes 
there  is  sweet  bitterness  in  tears.  .  .  . 

But  I  do  not  always  hide  indoors,  nor  in  the  city,  nor 
does  the  spring  pass  by  me  unused.  I  go  also  to  a  grove 
near  by,  planted  with  elms,  and  to  the  noble  shade  of  a 
suburb.  Here  very  often  you  may  see  troops  of  virgins  go 
by,  stars  breathing  forth  enticing  flames.  Ah,  how  often 
have  I  been  astounded  by  some  marvellous  figure,  which 
might  even  rejuvenate  the  old  age  of  Jupiter  !  Ah,  how 
often  have  I  seen  eyes  that  surpassed  jewels  and  whatever 
stars  revolve  about  either  pole ;  and  necks  more  ivory  than 
the  arms  of  twice-living  Pelops,  or  than  the  way  which 
flows  with  pure  nectar  ;  and  extraordinary  beauty  of  fore- 
head, and  shaking  locks,  the  golden  nets  which  treacher- 
ous Love  spreads.  And  seductive  cheeks,  compared  with 

60 


which  the  hyacinth's  purple  and  the  blush  of  your  own 
flower.  Adonis,  seem  contemptible.  Yield,  you  often 
praised  heroines  of  old,  and  whatever  mistress  ever 
captured  wandering  Jove  !  Yield,  you  Persian  girls  with 
turbaned  brows,  and  you  who  dwell  in  Susa  and  Memno- 
nian  Nineveh  !  And  you  too,  nymphs  of  Greece,  lower 
your  fasces,  and  you,  young  matrons  of  Troy  and  of 
Rome.  .  .  .  The  first  glory  is  due  to  British  maidens ; 
enough  for  you,  foreign  women,  to  follow  them.  You, 
London,  the  city  built  by  Trojan  colonists,  seen  far  and 
wide  by  your  towered  head,  you  enclose  (too  happy  !) 
within  your  walls  whatever  beauty  the  pendulous  earth 
holds.  The  stars  that  sparkle  over  you  in  the  clear  sky, 
the  ministering  host  of  Endymion's  goddess,  are  not  so 
many  as  the  girls  who,  conspicuous  in  person  and  gold, 
shine  in  a  troop  through  your  streets.  .  .  . 

But  I,  while  the  indulgence  of  the  blind  boy  yet  allows 
it,  am  preparing  to  leave  these  happy  walls  as  soon  as 
possible,  and,  using  the  help  of  the  divine  moly,  to  flee 
far  from  the  ignominy  of  the  treacherous  Circe.  Besides, 
it  is  fixed  that  I  go  back  to  the  reedy  marshes  of  the  Cam, 
and  to  the  noise  of  the  raucous  school  again. 

JOHN   MILTON 

Elegia  Prima  ad  Carolum  Diodatum  (1626) 
(Trans,  from  Latin  Elegiacs) 


61 


BELLS 


ON  THE  ROAD  TO  OXFORD 

Famous  rings  of  bells  in  Oxfordshire  called  the  Crosse-ring 

He  travelleth  to  Tames ;  where  passing  by  those  Townes 
Of  that  rich  Country  neere,  whereas  the  mirthful  clownes 
With  Taber  and  the  pipe,  on  holydayes  doe  use, 
Upon  the  May-pole  Greene,  to  trample  out  their  shooes  : 
And  having  in  his  eares  the  deepe  and  solemne  rings 
Which  sound  him  all  the  way,  unto  the  learned  Springs. 

MICHAEL  DRAYTON 

Poly-Olbion.  Song  XV  (1613) 


GREAT  TOM 


Bee  dum  ye  infant  chimes,  thump  not  the  mettle 
That  nere  outrung  a  tinker  and  his  kettle. 
Cease  all  your  petty  larums,  for  to  day 
Is  yonge  Tom's  resurrection  from  the  clay. 
And  know  when  Tom  shal  ring  his  loudest  knells 
The  big'st  of  you'll  be  thought  but  Dinner  Bells. 

62 


Rejoyce  with  Christ  Church — look  higher  Oseney, 
Of  Gyante  Bells  the  famous  treasury  ; 
The  base  vast  thunderinge  Clocke  of  Westminster, 
Grave  Tom  of  Linconne — Hugh  Excester — 
Are  but  Tom's  eldest  Brothers,  and  perchance 
Hee  may  cal  cozen  with  the  bell  of  Ffrance. 

RICHARD    CORBET 

Oxford  Great  Tom  (1612) 


Oh  the  bonny  Christchurch  Bells, 

i>  2,  3,  4,  5,  6 ; 
They  sound  so  wond'rous  great 

So  woundy  sweet, 

And  they  trowl  so  merrily,  merrily, 
Oh  !  the  first  and  second  Bell, 
That  every  day  at  Four  and  Ten, 
Cry,  Come,  come,  come,  come,  come  to  Pray'rs  ; 
And  the  Virger  troops  before  the  Dean. 
Tinkle,  tinkle,  ting,  goes  the  small  Bell  at  Nine, 
To  call  the  Beerers  home ; 
But  the  Dev'l  a  man  ; 
Will  leave  his  Can, 
'Till  he  hears  the  mighty  Tom. 

HENRY   ALDRICH 

Christchurch  Bells  (1673) 


ENCHANTING  MELODY 

What  Musick  is  there  that  compar'd  may  be 
To  well-tun'd  Bells  enchanting  melody  ! 

FABIAN  STEDMAN 

Tintinnalogia  (Edition  1671) 
63 


CATCHING  ANIMALS 


TIGER  CUBS 


They  diligently  seek  out  the  caves  and  dens  of  the  Tigers 
where  their  young  ones  are  lodged,  and  then  upon  some 
swift  horses  they  take  and  carry  them  away  :  when  the 
female  Tiger  returneth  and  findeth  her  den  empty,  in  rage 
she  followeth  after  them  by  the  foot,  whom  she  quickly 
overtaketh,  by  reason  of  her  celerity. . .  .  For  this  occasion, 
the  Hunters  do  devise  certain  round  spheres  of  glass, 
wherein  they  picture  the  young  ones  very  apparent  to  be 
seen  by  the  dam  ;  one  of  these  they  cast  down  before  her 
at  her  approach  ;  she  looking  upon  it  is  deluded,  and 
thinketh  that  her  young  ones  are  enclosed  therein,  and  the 
rather,  because  through  the  roundness  thereof  it  is  apt 
to  rowl  and  stir  at  every  touch,  this  she  driveth  along  back- 
wards to  her  den,  and  there  breaketh  it  with  her  feet  and 
nails,  and  so,  seeing  she  that  she  is  deceived,  returneth 
back  again  after  the  Hunters  for  her  true  Whelps  ; 
whilest  they  in  the  mean  season  are  safely  harbored  in 
some  house,  or  else  gone  on  some  shipboard. 

EDWARD    TOPSELL 

History  of  Four- Footed  Beasts  and  Serpents  (1607) 


UNICORNS 

It  is  said  that  Unicorns  above  all  other  creatures  do  rever- 
ence Virgins  and  young  Maids,  and  that  many  times  at  the 
sight  of  them  they  grow  tame,  and  come  and  sleep  beside 
them,  for  there  is  in  their  nature  a  certain  savour,  where- 
withal the  Unicorns  are  allured  and  delighted  :  for  which 
occasion  the  Indian  and  Ethiopian  hunters  use  this 
stratagem  to  take  the  beast.  They  take  a  goodly  strong  and 
beautiful  young  man,  whom  they  dress  in  the  apparel  of  a 
woman,  besetting  him  with  divers  odoriferous  flowers  and 
spices. 

The  man  so  adorned,  they  set  in  the  Mountains  or 
Woods  where  the  Unicorn  hunteth,  so  as  the  winde  may 
carry  the  savour  to  the  beast,  and  in  the  mean  season  the 
other  Hunters  hide  themselves  :  the  Unicorn  deceived 
with  the  outward  shape  of  a  woman  and  sweet  smells, 
cometh  unto  the  young  man  without  fear,  and  so  suffereth 
his  head  to  be  covered  and  wrapped  within  his  large 
sleeves,  never  stirring  but  lying  still  and  asleep,  as  in  his 
most  acceptable  repose.  Then  when  the  Hunters  by  the  sign 
of  the  young  man  perceive  him  fast  and  secure,  they  come- 
upon  him,  and  by  force  cut  off  his  horn,  and  send  him 
away  alive :  but  concerning  this  opinion  we  have  no  elder 
authority  than  Tzetzes,*  who  did  not  live  above  five 
hundred  years  ago,  and  therefore  I  leave  the  Reader  to  the 
freedom  of  his  own  judgment,  to  believe  or  refuse  this 
relation ;  neither  was  it  fit  that  I  should  omit  it,  seeing 
that  all  Writers  since  the  time  of  Tzetzes  do  most  con- 
stantly believe  it. 

Ibid. 

*  Topsell  was,  of  course,  wrong  here  j  unicorns  had  been  snared 
by  virgins  at  least  since  the  2nd  century  A.D. 

CP  65 


BEARS 

Ofte  Bees  gather  honie  in  hollowe  trees,  and  the  Beare 
findeth  honie  by  smell,  and  goeth  up  to  the  place  that  the 
honie  is  in,  and  maketh  a  waye  into  the  Tree  with  his 
clawes,  and  draweth  out  the  honie  and  eateth  it,  and 
commeth  ofte  by  custome  unto  such  a  place,  when  he  is 
an  hungred  :  And  the  Hunter  taketh  heed  thereof .  .  .  and 
hangeth  craftely  a  right  heavie  hammer  or  wedge  before 
the  open  way  to  the  honie,  then  the  Bear  commeth  and  is 
an  hungred,  and  the  logge  that  hangeth  ther  on  high 
letteth  him  :  and  he  putteth  awaye  the  wedge  with  vio- 
lence, but  after  the  removing,  the  wedge  falleth  againe  and 
hitteth  him  on  the  eare,  and  he  hath  indignation  thereof, 
and  putteth  away  the  wedge  fiercely,  and  then  the  wedge 
falleth  and  smiteth  him  harder  than  it  did  before  ;  and  he 
striveth  so  long  with  the  wedge,  untill  his  feeble  head 
doth  fayl  by  oft  smiting  of  the  wedge,  and  then  he  falleth 
downe  . . .  and  slayeth  himselfe  in  that  wise.  Theophrastus 
telleth  this  manner  Hunting  of  Beares,  and  learned  it  of 
the  Hunters  in  the  country  of  Germanie. 

BARTHOLOMEW  ANGLICUS 

De  Proprietatibus  Rerum  (c.  1240) 
Trans.  John  Trevisa  (1398,  modernised  1582) 


DRAGONS 

Now  the  manner  how  the  Indians  kill  the  Mountain  Drag- 
ons is  thus  :  they  take  a  garment  of  Scarlet^  and  picture 
upon  it  a  charm  in  golden  letters,  this  they  lay  upon  the 

66 


mouth  of  the  Dragon's  den,  for  with  the  red  colour  and 
the  gold,  the  eyes  of  the  Dragon  are  overcome,  and  he 
falleth  asleep,  the  Indians  in  the  mean  season  watching, 
and  muttering  secretly  words  of  Incantation  ;  when  they 
perceive  he  is  fast  asleep,  suddenly  they  strike  off  his  neck 
with  an  Ax,  and  so  take  out  the  balls  of  his  eyes,  wherein 
are  lodged  those  rare  and  precious  stones  which  contain  in 
them  vertues  unutterable,  as  hath  been  evidently  proved 
by  one  of  them,  that  was  included  in  the  Ring  of  Gyges. . . . 
As  for  the  flesh,  it  is  of  a  vitrial  or  glassie  colour,  and  the 
Ethiopians  do  eat  it  very  greedily,  for  they  say  it  hath  in  it 
a  refrigerative  power.  And  there  be  some  which  by  certain 
inchanting  verses  do  tame  Dragons,  and  rideth  upon  their 
necks,  as  a  man  would  ride  upon  a  Horse,  guiding  and 
governing  them  with  a  bridle. 

EDWARD   TOPSELL 

History  of  Four-Footed  Beasts  and  Serpents  (1607) 


ELEPHANTS 

When  they  be  taken,  they  are  made  tame  and  mild  with 
Barley  :  and  a  cave  or  ditche  is  made  under  the  earth,  as  it 
were  a  pitfall  in  the  elephaunt's  waye,  and  unawares  he  fall- 
eth therein.  And  then  one  of  the  hunters  commeth  to  him 
and  beateth  and  smite th  him,  and  pricketh  him  full  sore. 
And  then  another  hunter  cometh  and  smiteth  the  first  hun- 
ter and  doth  him  away,  and  defendeth  the  elephaunt,  and 
giveth  him  Barley  to  eate,  and  when  he  hath  eaten  thrice  or 
foure  times,  then  he  loveth  him  that  defendeth  him,  and 
is  afterward  milde  and  obedient  to  him.  .  .  .  Elephants  lie 
never  downe  in  sleeping ;  but  when  they  be  wearye  they 

6? 


leane  to  a  tree  and  so  rest  somewhat.  And  men  lye  in  a  waite 
to  aspy  their  resting  places  prively,  for  to  cut  the  tree  in 
the  other  side :  and  the  Elephaunt  commeth  and  is  not  ware 
of  the  fraud,  and  leaneth  to  the  tree  and  breaketh  it  with 
the  weight  of  his  body,  and  falleth  do wne  with  the  breaking, 
and  lieth  there. 

BARTHOLOMEW  ANGLICUS 

De  Proprietatibus  Rerum  (c.  1240) 

Trans.  John  Trevisa  (1398,  modernised  1582) 


APES 

All  the  kinde  of  these  Apes  approch  neerest  of  all  beasts  to 
the  resemblance  of  a  mans  shape,  but  they  differ  one  from 
another  in  the  taile.  Marvellous  crafty  and  subtill  they  be 
to  beguile  themselves  :  for  by  report,  as  they  see  hunters 
doe  before  them,  they  will  imitate  them  in  every  point, 
even  to  besmear  themselves  with  glew  and  birdlime,  and 
shoo  their  feet  between  gins  and  snares,  and  by  that  means 
are  caught. 

PLINY   THE  ELDER 

Natural  History  (c.  77) 
Trans.  Philemon  Holland  (1601) 


CROCODILES 

It  hath  been  seldom  seen  that  Crocodiles  were  taken,  yet  it 
is  said  that  men  hunt  them  in  the  waters,  for  Pliny  saith, 
that  there  is  an  assured  pers  wasion,  that  with  the  gal  and  fat 
of  a  Water-adder,  men  are  wonderfully  holpen,  and  as  it 
were  armed  against  Crocodiles,  and  by  it  enabled  to  take  and 

68 


destroy  them,  especially  when  they  carry  also  about  them 
the  herb  Potamegeton.  There  is  also  akinde  of  thorny  wilde 
Bean  growing  in  Egypt,  which  hath  many  sharp  prickles 
upon  the  stalks,  this  is  a  great  terrour  to  the  Crocodile, 
for  he  is  in  great  dread  of  his  eyes,  which  are  very  tender 
and  easie  to  be  wounded.  Therefore  he  avoideth  their 
sight,  being  more  unwilling  to  adventure  upon  a  man  that 
beareth  them,  or  one  of  them,  than  he  is  to  adventure 
upon  a  man  in  compleat  Armour,  and  therefore  all  the 
people  plant  great  store  of  these,  and  also  bear  them  in 
their  hands  when  they  travail.  .  .  . 

Peter  Martyr  hath  also  other  means  of  taking  Crocodiles. 
Their  nature  is,  that  when  they  goe  to  the  land  to  forrage 
and  seek  after  a  prey,  they  cannot  return  back  again  but  by 
the  same  footsteps  of  their  own  which  they  left  imprinted 
in  the  sand  :  wherefrom,  when  the  Countrey  people 
perceive  their  footsteps,  instantly  with  all  the  hast  they 
can  make,  they  come  with  spades  and  mattocks  and  make  a 
great  ditch,  and  with  boughs  cover  the  same,  so  as  the 
Serpent  may  not  espy  it,  and  upon  the  boughs  they  also 
again  lay  sand  to  avoid  all  occasion  of  deceit  and  suspicion 
of  fraud  at  his  return  :  then  when  all  things  are  thus 
prepared,  they  hunt  the  Crocodile  by  the  foot  untill  they 
findehim,  then  with  noises  of  bells,  pans,  kettels,  and  such 
like  things,  they  terrific  and  make  him  return  as  fast  as  fear 
can  make  him  run  towards  the  waters  again,  and  they  fol- 
low him  as  near  as  they  can,  until  he  falleth  into  the  ditch, 
where  they  all  come  about  him  and  kill  him  .  .  .  and  so 
being  slain,  they  carry  him  to  the  great  City  Cair,  where 
for  their  reward  they  receive  ten  pieces  of  gold. . .  . 

We  do  read  that  Crocodiles  have  been  taken  and  brought 
alive  to  Rome.  The  first  that  ever  brought  them  thither 
was  Marcus  Scaurus,  who  in  the  games  of  his  aedility, 

69 


brought  five  forth  and  shewed  them  to  the  people  in  a 
great  pond  of  water  (which  he  had  provided  only  for  that 
time)  and  afterward  Heliogabalus  and  Antoninus  Pius. 

EDWARD   TOPSELL 

History  of  Four-footed  Beasts  and  Serpents  (1607) 


TURTLES 

There  be  found  Tortoises  in  the  Indian  sea  so  great,  that 
one  only  shel  of  them  is  sufficient  for  the  roofe  of  a 
dwelling  house.  And  among  the  Islands,  principally  in  the 
red  sea,  they  use  Tortoise  shells  ordinarily  for  boats  and 
wherries  upon  the  water. 

Many  waies  the  fisher-men  have  to  catch  them ;  but 
especially  in  this  manner :  They  use  in  the  mornings,  when 
the  weather  is  calm  and  still,  to  flote  aloft  upon  the  water, 
with  their  backs  to  be  seen  all  over :  and  then  they  take  such 
pleasure  in  breathing  freely  and  at  libertie,  that  they  forget 
themselves  altogether  :  insomuch  as  their  shell  in  this 
time  is  so  hardened  and  baked  with  the  sun,  that  when  they 
would  they  cannot  dive  and  sinke  under  the  water  againe, 
but  are  forced  against  their  wills  to  flote  above,  and  by  that 
meanes  are  exposed  as  a  prey  unto  the  fishermen.  Some 
say  that  they  go  forth  in  the  night  to  land  for  to  feed, 
where,  with  eating  greedily,  they  be  wearie  ;  so  that  in  the 
morning,  when  they  are  returned  again,  they  fall  soon 
asleep  above  the  water,  and  keepe  such  a  snorting  and 
routing  in  their  sleepe,  that  they  bewray  where  they  be, 
and  so  are  easily  taken  :  and  yet  there  must  be  three  men 
about  every  one  of  them  :  and  when  they  have  sworn  unto 
the  Tortoise,  two  of  them  turne  him  upon  his  backe,  the 

70 


third  casts  a  cord  or  halter  about  him,  as  hee  lyeth  with 
his  belly  upward  and  then  is  he  haled  by  many  more 
together,  to  the  land.  PLINY  THE  £LDER 

Natural  History  (c.  77) 
Trans.  Philemon  Holland  (1601) 


COCKATRICES 

It  is  a  question  whether  the  Cockatrice  dye  by  the  sight  of 
himself:  some  have  affirmed  so  much,  but  I  dare  not 
subscribe  thereunto,  because  in  reason  it  is  unpossible 
that  any  thing  should  hurt  it  self,  that  hurteth  not  another 
of  his  own  kinde  ;  yet  if  in  the  secret  of  nature  GOD  have 
ordained  such  a  thing,  I  will  not  strive  against  them  that 
can  shew  it. 

...  I  cannot  without  laughing  remember  the  old  Wives 
tales  of  the  Vulgar  Cockatrices  that  have  been  in  England, 
for  I  have  oftentimes  heard  it  related  confidently,  that 
once  our  Nation  was  full  of  Cockatrices,  and  that  a  certain 
man  did  destroy  them  by  going  up  and  down  in  Glasse, 
whereby  their  own  shapes  were  reflected  upon  their  own 
faces,  and  so  they  dyed.  EDWARD  TOPSELL 

History  of  Four-footed  Beasts  and  Serpents  (1607) 


SATYRS 

Yet  said  Apollonius,  there  is  a  remedy  to  quail  these 
wanton  leaping  beasts,  which  men  say  Midas  used  (for 
Midas  was  of  kindred  to  Satyres,  as  appeared  by  his  ears) . 

71 


This  Midas  heard  his  mother  say  that  Satyres  loved  to  be 
drunk  with  wine  and  then  sleep  soundly,  and  after  that 
be  so  moderate,  mild  and  gentle,  that  a  man  would  think 
they  had  lost  their  first  nature. 

Whereupon  he  put  wine  into  a  fountain  neer  the  high- 
way, whereof  when  the  Satyre  had  tasted  he  waxed  meek 
suddenly,  and  was  overcome. 

PLINY   THE   ELDER 

Natural  History  (c.  77) 
Trans.  Philemon  Holland  (1601) 


MULLETS 

In  Languedoc  within  the  province  of  Narbon  .  . .  there  is  a 
standing  poole  or  dead  water  called  Laterra,  wherein  men 
and  Dolphins  together,  use  to  fish  :  for  at  one  certain  time 
of  the  yeare,  an  infinite  number  of  fishes  called  Mullets, 
taking  the  vantage  of  the  tide  when  the  water  doth  ebbe  at 
certain  narrow  weares  and  passages,  with  great  force  break 
forth  of  the  said  poole  into  the  sea  :  and  by  reason  of  that 
violence  no  nets  can  be  set  and  pitched  against  them  strong 
enough  to  abide  and  beare  their  huge  weight  and  the  streame 
of  the  water  together,  if  so  be  men  were  not  cunning  and 
craftie  to  wait  and  espie  their  time  to  lay  for  them  and  to 
entrap  them.  . . .  The  fisher  men  being  ware  thereof ,  and  all 
the  people  besides  (for  the  multitude  knowing  when  fish- 
ing-time is  come,  run  thither,  and  the  rather  for  to  see  the 
pleasant  sport)  crie  as  lowd  as  ever  they  can  to  the  Dol- 
phins for  aid,  and  call  Simo,  Simo,  to  help  to  make  an  end 
of  this  their  game  and  pastime  of  fishing.  The  Dolphins 
soon  get  the  eare  of  their  crie,  and  know  what  they  would 

72 


have,  and  the  better  if  the  North- winds  blow  and  carrie  the 
sound  unto  them.  .  .  .  The  Dolphins  resort  thither  flock- 
meale,  sooner  than  a  man  would  thinke,  for  to  assist  them 
in  their  fishing.  And  a  wondrous  pleasant  sight  it  is  to 
behold  the  squadrons  as  it  were  of  those  Dolphins,  how 
quickly  they  take  their  places  and  be  arranged  in  battell 
array  even  against  the  very  mouth  of  the  said  poole,  where 
the  Mullets  use  to  shoote  into  the  sea  :  to  sec  (I  say)  how 
from  the  sea  they  oppose  themselves  and  fight  against  them, 
and  drive  the  Mullets  (once  affrighted  and  skared)  upon 
the  shelves.  Then  come  the  fishers  and  beset  them  with  net 
and  toile  .  .  .  howbeit  for  all  that  the  Mullets  are  so  quick 
and  nimble,  that  a  number  of  them  whip  over,  get  away, 
and  escape  the  nets.  But  the  Dolphins  then  are  readie  to 
receive  them.  .  .  .  And  so  the  conflict  being  ended,  and  all 
the  fishing  sport  done  . . .  the  Dolphins  retire  not  presently 
into  the  deepe  againe,  but  stay  until  the  morrow,  as  if  they 
knew  very  well  that  they  had  so  carried  themselves,  as 
that  they  deserved  a  better  reward  than  one  daies  refection 
and  victuals :  and  therefore  contented  they  are  not  and  satis- 
fied, unlesse  to  their  fish  they  have  some  sops  and  crums  of 
bread  given  them  soaked  in  wine,  and  that  their  bellies 
full.  Mutianus  makes  mention  of  the  semblable  manner  of 
fishing  in  the  gulfe  of  lassos  ;  but  herein  is  the  difference, 
for  that  the  Dolphins  come  of  their  own  accord  without 
calling,  take  their  part  of  the  bootie  at  the  fishers'  hands  ; 
and  every  boat  hath  a  Dolphin  attending  upon  it  as  a 
companion,  although  it  be  in  the  night  season  and  at  torch 
light. 

PLINY   THE   ELDER 

Natural  History  (c.  77) 
Trans.  Philemon  Holland  (1601) 


73 


The  Mullets  have  a  natural!  ridiculous  qualitie  by  them- 
selves, to  be  laughed  at :  for  when  they  be  afraid  to  be 
caught,  they  wil  hide  their  head,  and  then  they  think  they 
be  sure  enough,  weening  that  all  their  body  is  likewise 
hidden.  These  Mullets  neverthelesse  are  so  lecherous, 
that  in  the  season  when  they  use  to  ingender,  in  the  coasts 
of  Phoenice  and  Languedock,  if  they  take  a  milter  out  of 
their  stews  or  pooles  where  they  use  to  keep  them,  and  draw 
a  long  string  or  line  through  the  mouth  and  gils,  and  so 
tie  it  fast,  and  then  put  him  into  the  sea,  holding  the  other 
end  of  the  line  still  in  their  hands,  if  they  pull  him  again 
unto  them,  they  shal  have  a  number  of  spawners  or  femals 
follow  him  hard  at  taile  to  the  bank  side.  Semblably,  if  a 
man  do  the  same  with  a  female  in  spawning  time,  hee 
shall  have  as  many  milters  follow  after  her.  And  in  this 
manner  they  take  an  infinite  number  of  Mullets. 

Ibid. 


HARES 

The  man  whose  vacant  mind  prepares  him  for  the  sport, 
The  Hare-  The  Finder  sendeth  out,  to  seeke  out  nimble  Wat. 

Finder 

Which  crosseth  in  the  field,  each  furlong,  every  Flat, 
Till  he  this  pretty  Beast  upon  the  Forme  hath  found, 
j^en  viewing  for  the  Course,  which  is  the  fairest  ground, 
^he  Greyhounds  foorth  are  brought,  for  coursing  then  in 

case, 

And  choycely  in  the  Slip,  OLC  leading  forth  a  brace  : 
The  Finder  purs  her  up,  and  gives  her  Coursers  law. 
And  whilst  the  eager  dogs  upon  the  Start  doc  draw, 

74 


Shee  riseth  from  her  seat,  as  though  on  earth  she  flew, 
Forc'd  by  some  yelping  Cute  to  give  the  Greyhounds  view,  A  curre 
Which  are  at  length  let  slip,  when  gunning  out  they  goe, 
As  in  respect  of  them  the  swiftest  wind  were  slow. 
When  each  man  runnes  his  Horse,  with  fixed  eyes,  and  notes 
Which  Dog  first  turnes  the  Hare,  which  first  the  other  when  one 

Greyhound 

COatS  .   .  .  outstr'ps 

,  ~  ...  ,,  ,     ,  ,  the  other  in 

And  turne  for  turne  agame  with  equall  speed  they  ply,     the  Course 
Bestirring  their  swift  feet  with  strange  agilitie  : 

MICHAEL  DRAYTON 

Poly-Olbion.  Song  XXIII  (1622) 


HARES 


Starrs  Enamour'd  with  Pastimes  Olympicall, 
Starrs  and  Planets  that  beautifull  shone ; 
Would  no  longer  that  earthly  men  only  shall 
Swim  in  pleasure,  and  they  but  look  on. 

Round  about  horned  Lucina  they  stormed, 
And  her  informed  how  minded  they  were  ; 
Each  God  and  Goddesse,  to  take  humane  bodyes, 
As  Lords  and  Ladies>  to  follow  the  Hare. 

Chast  Diana  applauded  the  Motion, 
And  pale  Proserpina,  set  in  her  place, 
Lights  the  Welkin,  and  governs  the  Ocean, 
While  she  conducted  her  Nephewes  in  chace, 

75 


And  by  her  Example,  her  Father  to  trample 
The  old  and  ample  earth,  leave  the  aire, 
Neptune  the  Water,  the  Wine  Liber  Pater., 
And  Mars  the  slaughter,  to  follow  the  Hare. 

Light  god  Cupid  was  hors'd  upon  Pegasus, 
Borrow'd  of  Muses  with  kisses  and  prayers, 
Strong  Alcides  upon  cloudy  Caucasus., 
Mounts  a  Centaure  that  proudly  him  beares. 

Postillian  of  the  skye,  light  heePd  Mercury, 
Makes  his  Courser  fly  fleet  as  the  aire, 
Yellow  Apollo,  the  Kennel  doth  follow, 
With  whoop  and  hollow  after  the  hare. 

Hymen  ushers  the  ladies  ;  Astraea 
The  Just,  took  hands  with  Minerva  the  bold  ; 
Ceres  the  brown,  with  bright  Cytherea, 
With  Thetis  the  wanton,  Bdlona  the  old  ; 

Shamefac't  Aurora,  with  subtil  Pandora  ; 
And  May  with  Flora,  did  company  beare  ; 
Juno  was  stated,  too  high  to  be  mated, 
But  yet  she  hated  not  hunting  the  hare. 

Drown5  d  Narcissus,  from  his  Metamorphosis, 
Rais'd  by  Eccho,  new  manhood  did  take  ; 
Snoring  Somnis  upstarted  Cineris, 
That  this  thousand  year  was  not  awake. 

To  see  club-footed  old  Mulciber  booted, 
And  Pan  promoted  on  Chirons  Mare  ; 
Proud  Faunus  pouted,  and  Aeolus  shouted, 
And  Momus  flouted,  but  follow'd  the  Hare. 

76 


Deep  Melompus  and  cunning  Ichnobates, 
Nape  and  Tigre,  and  Harpyre,  the  Skyes 
Rend  wit  roaring,  whilst  huntsman-like  Hercules 
Winds  the  plentifull  home  to  their  crycs, 

Till  with  varieties,,  to  solace  their  Pieties., 

The  weary  Deities  repos'd  them  where 

We  shepheards  were  seated,  and  there  we  repeated, 

What  we  conceited  of  their  hunting  the  Hare. 

Young  Amintas  suppos'd  the  Gods  came  to  breath 
(After  some  battels)  themselves  on  the  ground, 
Thirsts  thought  the  Starrs  came  to  dwell  here  beneath, 
And  that  hereafter  the  earth  would  go  round, 

Coridon  aged,  with  Phillis  ingaged, 
Was  much  inraged  with  jealous  despaire ; 
But  fury  vaded,  and  he  was  perswaded, 
When  I  thus  applauded  the  hunting  the  Hare. 

Starr's  but  Shadows  were,  State  w^ere  but  sorrow, 
Had  they  no  Motion,  nor  that  no  delight ; 
Joyes  are  Jovial,  delight  is  the  marrow 
Of  life,  and  Action  the  Axle  of  might. 

Pleasure  depends  upon  no  other  friends, 
And  yet  freely  lends  to  each  vertue  a  share  ; 
Only  as  measures,  the  Jewell  of  pleasures, 
Of  pleasure  the  treasures  of  hunting  the  Hare. 

Three  broad  Bowles  to  the  Olympical  Rector, 
His  Troy  borne  Eagle  he  brings  on  his  knee, 
Jove  to  Phoebus  carowses  in  Nector, 
And  he  to  Hermes,  and  Hermes  to  me ; 

77 


Wherewith  infused,  I  pip'd  and  I  mused, 

In  songs  unused  this  sport  to  declare ; 

And  that  the  Rouse  of  Jove,  round  as  his  Sphere  may 

move. 
Health  to  all  that  love  hunting  the  hare. 

ANON 

The  hunting  of  the  Gods 
(Westminster  Drollery,  1672) 

FOXES 

I  could  have  set  them  right  on  several  subjects,  Sir ;  for 
instance,  the  gentleman  who  said  he  could  not  imagine 
how  any  pleasure  could  be  derived  from  hunting, — the 
reason  is,  because  man  feels  his  own  vacuity  less  in  action 
than  when  at  rest. 

JAMES  BOSWELL 

Life  of  Johnson  (Croker's  ed.  1831) 

He  certainly  rode  on  Mr  Thrale's  old  hunter  with  a 
good  firmness,  and  though  he  would  follow  the  hounds 
fifty  miles  on  end  sometimes,  would  never  own  himself 
either  tired  or  amused.  "  I  have  now  learned,"  (said  he) 
"  by  hunting,  to  perceive,  that  it  is  no  diversion  at  all,  nor 
ever  takes  a  man  out  of  himself  for  a  moment ;  the  dogs 
have  less  sagacity  than  I  could  have  prevailed  on  myself 
to  suppose  ;  and  the  gentlemen  often  call  to  me  not  to  ride 
over  them.  It  is  very  strange,  and  very  melancholy  that 
the  paucity  of  human  pleasures  should  persuade  us  ever 
to  call  hunting  one  of  them." 

HESTHER  LYNCH   PIOZZI 

Anecdotes  of  Dr.  Johnson  (1786) 
78 


BOARS 


I  know  not  love  (quoth  he)  nor  will  not  know  it. 
Unless  it  be  a  boare,  and  then  I  chase  it.  ... 

Thou  hadst  been  gone  (quoth  she)  sweet  boy  ere  this, 
But  that  thou  toldest  me  thou  wouldst  hunt  the  boare. 
O  be  advis'd,  thou  knowest  not  what  it  is 
With  Javelines  poynt  a  churlish  swine  to  goare, 
Whose  tushes  never  sheath'd  he  whetteth  still, 
Like  to  a  mortall  butcher,  bent  to  kill.  .  .  . 

But  if  thou  needs  will  hunt,  be  rul'd  by  mee, 
Uncouple  at  the  timorous  flying  Hare, 
Or  at  the  fox,  which  lives  by  subtilty, 
Or  at  the  Roe,  which  no  encounter  dare  : 
Pursue  these  fearefull  creatures  o're  the  downs, 
And  on  they  well-breath'd  horse  keepe  with  thy 
hounds. 

W.   SHAKESPEARE 

Venus  and  Adonis  (1593.  Edition  1607) 


DUCKS 


To  take  such  wilde  duckes  as  are  about  your  pondes  to 
make  them  tame,  you  must  cast  the  lees  of  wine  or  red 
wine  in  that  verie  place  of  the  pond  side,  where  you  have 
accustomed  to  cast  them  meat  of  wine  and  corne,  with 
leaven  and  flower  tempered  together,  and  you  shall  take 

79 


them  when  you  see  them  drunke.  Or  else  to  take  of  the 
roote  and  seed  of  Henbane  a  good  quantitie,  and  lay  it  to 
steepe  in  a  basen  full  of  water  a  whole  day  and  a  night ; 
afterward  put  thereinto  wheat,  and  boile  all  together  untill 
the  said  corne  be  well  steept  and  swelled.,  .  .  .  the  wilde 
duckes  will  runne  unto  it,  and  as  soone  as  they  shall  have 
eaten  it  they  will  fall  downe  all  astonished  and  giddie. 

CHARLES   ESTIENNE 

La  Maison  Rustique  (1572) 
Trans.  Richard  Surflet  (1600) 


BIRDS 

The  Greeke  Emperours  began  it,  and  now  nothing  so 
frequent :  he  is  no  body,  that  in  the  season  hath  not  a 
Hawke  on  his  fist.  A  great  Art,  and  many  bookes  written 
of  it. 

ROBERT  BURTON 

The  Anatomy  of  Melancholy 
(1621.  Edition  1632) 


BUTTERFLIES 

The  Persian  Kings  hawke  after  Butterflies  with  sparrowes. 

Ibid. 


80 


MOLES 


Take  a  live  one  in  March,  and  put  the  same  into  a  verie 
deepe  and  hollow  bason  at  night  after  sunne  set.  Burie 
the  said  bason  in  the  earth  up  to  the  brims,  that  so  the 
moules  may  easily  tumble  into  it,  when  they  heare  the 
captive  crie  in  the  night  time.  For  all  such  as  shall  heare 
her  (and  this  kind  of  cattell  is  of  a  verie  light  hearing) 
comming  neer  to  their  food,  they  will  into  the  bason  one 
after  another ;  and  by  how  many  moe  go  in,  by  so  much 
will  they  make  the  greater  noise  (not  one  being  able  to 
get  out  againe)  because  the  bason  within  is  smooth,  slike, 
and  slipperie. 

CHARLES   ESTIENNE 

La  Maison  Rustique  (1572) 
Trans.  Richard  Surflet  (1600) 


JACKDAWS 


At  Oxford  Mr  T.  H.  used,  in  the  summer  time  especially, 
to  rise  very  early  in  the  morning,  and  would  tye  the  leaden- 
counters  (which  they  used  in  those  dayes  at  Christmas, 
at  post  and  payre)  with  pacthreds,  which  he  did  besmere 
with  birdlime,  and  bayte  them  with  parings  of  cheese,  and 
the  jack-dawes  would  spye  them  a  vast  distance  up  in  the 
aire,  and  as  far  as  Osney-abbey,  and  strike  at  the  bayte, 
and  so  be  harled  in  the  string,  which  the  wayte  of  the 
counter  would  make  cling  about  ther  wings. 

JOHN   AUBREY 

Brief  Lives.  Thomas  Hobbes  (c.  1680) 
81 


FISHES 


Many  Gentlemen  .  .  .  will  wade  up  to  the  Arme-holes 
upon  such  occasions,  and  voluntarily  undertake  that,  to 
satisfie  their  pleasure,  which  a  poor  man  for  a  good  stipend 
would  scarce  be  hired  to  undergoe.  . .  .  Hawking  and  hunt- 
ing are  very  laborious,  much  riding  and  many  dangers  ac- 
company them  ;  but  this  is  still  and  quiet :  and  if  so  be  the 
angler  catch  no  Fish,  yet  he  hath  a  wholesome  walk  to  the 
Brooke  side,  pleasant  shade  by  the  sweet  silver  streames  ; 
he  hath  good  Aire,  and  the  melodious  harmony  of  Birds  ; 
hee  sees  the  swannes,  herons,  ducks,  water-hens,  cootes, 
&c.  and  many  other  fowle  with  their  brood,  which  he 
thinketh  better  than  the  noise  of  Hounds,  or  blast  of 
Homes,  and  all  the  sport  that  they  can  make. 

ROBERT   BURTON 

The  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  (1621.  Edition  1632) 


Fisherman's  Art 


O  Sir,  doubt  not  but  that  Angling  is  an  Art,  and  an  Art 
worth  your  learning  :  The  question  is  rather  whether  you 
be  capable  of  learning  it;  for  Angling  is  something  like 
Poetry,  men  are  to  be  born  so ;  I  mean  with  inclinations 
to  it,  though  both  may  be  heightened  by  practice  and  exper- 
iment, but  he  that  hopes  to  be  a  good  Angler  must  not 
onely  bring  an  inquiring,  searching,  observing  wit,  but 
he  must  bring  a  large  measure  of  hope  and  patience,  and  a 
love  and  propensity  to  the  Art  it  self;  but  having  once  got 
and  practis'd  it,  then  doubt  not  but  Angling  will  prove  to 

82 


be  so  pleasant,  that  it  will  prove  like  Vertue,  a  reward  to 
it  selfe.  .  .  . 

He  that  views  the  ancient  Ecclesiastical  Canons,  shall 
find  Hunting  to  be  forbidden  to  Church-men,  as  being 
a  toilsom,  perplexing  Recreation,  and  shall  find  angling 
allowed  to  Clergy-men,  as  being  a  harmlesse  Recreation, 
that  invites  them  to  contemplation  and  quietness.  .  .  . 

IZAAK   WALTON 

The  Compleat  Angler  (1653) 


Fisherwomarfs  Luck 


The  Fishes  in  the  Flood, 

when  she  doth  Angle, 
For  the  Hooke  strive  a  good 

them  to  entangle, 
And  leaping  on  the  Land 

from  the  cleare  water 
Their  scales  upon  the  sand 

lavishly  scatter. 

MICHAEL   DRAYTON 

The  Shepheards  Sirena  (1627) 


Chubs 


Have  with  you  (Sir  !)  on  my  word  I  have  him.  Oh  it  is 
a  great  logger-headed  Chub.  Come,  hang  him  upon  that 
willow  twig,  and  lets  be  going.  But  turn  out  of  the  way  a 

83 


little,  good  Scholer,  towards  yonder  high  hedg ;  we'll  sit 
whilst  the  shower  falls  upon  the  teeming  earth,  and  gives 
a  sweeter  smell  to  the  lovely  flowers  that  adorn  the  verdant 
medowes. 

IZAAK  WALTON 

The  Compleat  Angler  (1653) 


OTTERS 


VENATOR  :  Now,  now  Ringwood  has  him.  Come  bring  him 
to  me.  Look,  'tis  a  Bitch  Otter -,  and  she  has  lately  whelp'd, 
let's  go  to  the  place  where  she  was  put  down,  and  not  far 
from  it  you  will  find  all  her  young  ones,  I  dare  warrant 
you,  and  kil  them  all  too. 

HUNTSMAN  :  Come  gentlemen,  come  all,  lets  go  to  the 
place  where  we  put  down  the  Otter.  Look  you,  hereabout 
it  was  she  kenell'd,  look  you,  here  it  was  indeed,  for  her's 
her  young  ones,  no  less  then  five  ;  come  lets  kill  them  all. 
PISCATOR  :  No,  I  pray  Sir,  save  me  one,  and  I'le  try  if  I 
can  make  her  tame,  as  I  know  an  ingenious  Gentleman 
in  Leicester-shire  (Mr  Nich.  Seagrave)  has  done ;  who  hath 
not  onely  made  her  tame,  but  to  catch  fish,  and  do  many 
things  of  much  pleasure. 

HUNTSMAN  :  Take  one  with  all  my  heart ;  but  let  us  kill 
the  rest.  And  now  lets  go  to  an  honest  Alehouse,  where 
we  may  have  a  cup  of  good  barley  wine  and  sing  Old  Rose,, 

and  all  of  us  rejoyce  together. 

Ibid. 


84 


FLEAS 

Vex'd  with  a  Thousand  Pigmy  friends,  and  such 
As  dare  not  stand  the  onset  of  a  touch. 
Strange  kind  of  Combatants,  whose  Conquest  lies 
In  nimbly  skipping  from  their  Enemies, 
While  these.,  with  eager  fiercenesse,  lay  about 
To  catch  the  thing  they  faine  would  be  without. 
These  sable  furies  bravely  venture  on, 
But  when  I  'gin  t'oppose  them,  whip,  th'are  gone. 
Doubtlesse  I  think  each  is  a  Magick  Dauncer, 
Bred  up  by  some  infernall  Necromauncer, 
But  that  I  doe  believe  none  e'er  scarce  knew 
(Mongst  all  their  spirits)  such  a  damned  crew. 

SIR  JOHN   MENNIS    (?) 

Musarum  Deliciae  (1655) 

FLIES 
Domitian  the  Emperour  was  much  delighted  with  catching 

ROBERT   BURTON 

The  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  (1621.  Edition  1632) 


PRACTICALLY  ANYTHING 

What  pleasure  doth  man  take  in  hunting  the  stately  Stag, 
the  generous  Buck,  the  Wild  Boar,  the  cunning  Otter,  the 
crafty  Fox,  and  the  fearful  Hare.  And  if  I  may  descend  to 
a  lower  Game,  what  pleasure  is  it  sometimes  with  gins  to 
betray  the  very  Vermin  of  the  earth,  as  namely  the  Picket, 

85 


the  Fulimart,  the  Feret,  the  Pole-cat,  the  Mould-warp,  and 
the  like  creatures  that  live  upon  the  face  and  within  the 
bowels  of  the  Earth.  .  .  . 

Hunting  is  a  Game  for  Princes  and  noble  persons ;  it 
hath  been  highly  prized  in  all  ages.  Hunting  trains  up 
the  younger  Nobility  to  the  use  of  manly  exercises. 

IZAAK  WALTON 
The  Compleat  Angler  (1653) 

Eusebius  is  of  opinion,  that  wilde  beasts  were  of  purpose 
created  by  God,  that  men  by  chasing  and  encountring 
them,  might  be  fitted  and  enabled  for  warlike  exercises. 

HENRY   PEACHAM 

The  Compleat  Gentleman  (1622) 


CELESTIAL 


A  RASH  ATTEMPT 

Who  would  ever  have  believed  that  man  could  voyage 
the  paths  of  the  air  ?  He  arranges  in  a  row  feathers,  the 
oars  of  birds,  and  binds  together  the  light  structure  with 
flax  cords ;  the  lower  part  is  bound  together  with  wax 
melted  by  fire,  and  now  the  labour  of  this  remarkable  piece 
of  work  was  finished.  The  boy,  laughing,  handled  the 
feathers  and  wax,  ignorant  that  the  implements  were  pre- 
pared for  his  own  shoulders.  To  whom  said  his  father, 

86 


"  It  is  with  these  ships  that  we  must  go  to  our  own  coun- 
try ;  with  this  contraption  we  must  flee  from  Minos.  .  .  . 
But  do  not  gaze  up  at  the  Bear,  or  at  sworded  Orion,  the 
comrade  of  Bootes  ;  follow  me,  with  the  wings  you  will 
be  given  ;  I  will  go  in  front,  you  take  care  to  follow  ;  you 
will  be  safe  with  me  as  guide.  For  if  we  go  through  the 
higher  air  near  the  sun,  the  wax  will  be  unable  to  bear 
the  heat ;  or  if  we  beat  low  wings  nearer  the  sea,  the 
moving  feathers  will  be  wet  with  sea  water.  Fly  between  the 
two  ;  mind  the  winds  too,  my  son,  and  where  the  breezes 
carry  you,  spread  sail  to  them."  While  he  admonishes,  he 
fits  his  work  on  to  the  boy,  and  shows  him  how  to  move, 
as  their  mother  instructs  the  weak  birds.  Then  he  fits  to 
his  own  shoulders  the  wings  he  has  made,  and  nervously 
launches  his  body  on  its  new  journey.  And  now,  about 
to  fly,  he  gave  his  little  son  a  kiss.  .  .  .  There  was  a 
hill  less  than  a  mountain,  higher  than  the  level  fields  ; 
from  this  the  two  take  off  for  their  ill-starred  flight. 
Daedalus  moves  his  own  wings,  and  at  the  same  time 
looks  back  at  his  son's,  and  keeps  ever  on  his  course.  And 
now  the  novel  journey  delights  them,  and  Icarus,  having 
put  aside  fear,  flies  more  boldly,  with  audacious  skill.  A 
man  catching  fish  on  a  quivering  rod  saw  them,  and  his 
hand  dropped  from  the  task  he  had  begun.  Now  Samos 
lay  on  their  left  (Naxos  and  Paros  had  been  left  behind, 
and  Delos,  beloved  of  Apollo)  ;  on  their  right  was  Lebyn- 
thos,  and  wood-shaded  Calymne,  and  Astypalea  encircled 
by  fishy  seas  ;  when  the  boy,  too  rash  in  his  incautious 
years,  made  his  way  higher,  and  left  his  father.  .  .  . 
[Here  this  flight  loses  its  status  as  a  Pleasure,  and  must  end.] 

OVID 
Ars  Amatoria.  Bk.  II  (c.  2  B.C.) 

8? 


WINGED  HORSES 


So  from  the  turf  outsprang  two  steeds  jet-black. 
Each  with  large  dark  blue  wings  upon  his  back. 
The  youth  of  Caria  placed  the  lovely  dame 
On  one,  and  felt  himself  in  spleen  to  tame 
The  other's  fierceness.  Through  the  air  they  flew. 
High  as  the  eagles.  Like  two  drops  of  dew 
Exhaled  to  Phoebus'  lips,  away  they  are  gone, 
Far  from  the  earth  away,  unseen,  alone, 
Among  cool  clouds  and  winds.  .  .  . 

JOHN   KEATS 

Endymion  (1818) 


WITCH  TRANSPORT  FOR  HIRE 


There  are  foure  severall  ways  wherby  this  flying  in  the 
aire,  hath  beene  or  may  be  attempted.  ...  i.  By  spirits 
or  Angels.  2.  By  the  help  of  Fowls.  3.  By  wings  fastened 
immediately  to  the  body.  4.  By  a  flying  chariot.  .  .  .  We 
read  of  divers  that  have  passed  swiftly  in  the  air,  by  the 
help  of  spirits  and  Angels —  Thus  witches  are  commonly 
related  to  passe  unto  their  usuall  meetings  .  .  .  and  as  they 
doe  sell  windes  unto  Mariners,  so  likewise  are  they  some- 
times hired  to  carry  men  speedily  through  the  open  air. 
Acosta  affirms  that  such  kind  of  passage  are  usuall  among 
divers  sorcerers  with  the  Indians  at  this  day. 

JOHN   WILKINS 

Mathematicall  Magick  (1648) 
88 


THE  AIR  BALLOON 


The  day  being  arrived  on  which  Mr  Lunardi  had  informed 
the  public  .  .  .  that  he  would  ascend  with  the  Air  Balloon 
...  at  a  very  early  hour  of  the  day,  about  a  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  spectators  .  .  .  assembled  together  at  the 
Artillery  Ground,  Moorfields,  where  the  machine  was  to 
be  launched  .  .  .  forming  together  of  themselves,  per- 
haps, one  of  the  grandest  spectacles  ever  seen,  there  being 
.  .  .  the  Prince  of  Wales,  Mr  Fox,  Colonel  Fitzpatrick, 
Lord  North,  Lord  Robert  Spenser,  Colonel  North,  Mr 
Burke,  Lord  Surry,  Mr  Sheridan,  and  many  other  persons 
of  distinction,  and  as  great  a  display  of  female  beauties  as 
ever,  at  any  one  time,  feasted  the  eye  of  admiration. 

The  novelty  of  a  man  ascending  to  the  clouds  by  the 
assistance  of  a  quantity  of  inflammable  air,  contained  in 
a  balloon  of  thirty  three  feet  diameter,  was  a  curiosity 
which  this  country  had  never  beheld,  and  of  course  both 
the  credulous  and  the  infidel  attended.  .  .  . 

About  one  o'clock,  Mr  Lunardi  and  a  Mr  Biggins,  who 
intended  to  ascend  with  Mr  Lunardi  in  the  balloon, 
came  upon  the  spot.  ...  It  was  found,  to  the  regret  of  all, 
that  the  enterprising  spirit  of  Mr  Biggins  must  remain, 
for  a  time  at  least,  ungratified.  The  globe  had  not  capacity 
and  strength  enough  to  elevate  them  both.  .  .  . 

The  machine  mounted  with  slow  and  gradual  majesty 
into  the  air.  When  it  had  risen  about  the  height  of  an 
hundred  feet,  it  descended  again  very  low  .  .  .  but  Mr 
Lunardi,  with  great  presence  of  mind,  threw  out  with  his 
feet  a  large  quantity  of  ballast  from  his  sand  bags,  when 
the  immense  machine  overcame  the  pressure  of  the  atmo- 
sphere, disappointed  the  gloomy  wisdom  of  the  splenetic, 


and  rose  with  the  most  beautiful  and  even  progress  to  the 
skies.  The  clearness  of  the  day,  and  the  grandeur  of  the 
machine,  added  to  the  novelty,  made  it  a  luxury  to  the 
most  untutored  mind ;  but  to  the  philosopher  and  the  man 
of  letters  it  was  an  occasion  of  the  most  rational 
delight — thus  to  see  a  new  element  subdued  by  the  talents 
of  man. 

Mr  Lunardi  was  accompanied  in  his  aerial  passage  by 
a  couple  of  pigeons,  a  cat,  and  a  favourite  lap-dog.  .  .  . 
When  the  grand  machine  appeared  superbly  floating  in 
the  newly  subdued  element,  and  the  cradle  containing  the 
bold  Aerial  Navigator  was  seen  depending  from  it, 
astonishment  filled  the  multitude,  and  awful  silence  filled 
the  air,,  which  the  next  instant  was  in  tremulation  with 
the  most  impassioned  bursts  of  applause.  .  .  .  Mr  Lunardi 
appeared  perfectly  composed,  and  as  the  balloon  went  up, 
bowed  most  gracefully,  and  calmly  waved  his  flag  to  the 
admiring  and  wonder-struck  spectators.  .  .  .  Being  evi- 
dently too  much  encumbered,  he  threw  it  out.  Soon  after 
one  of  his  oars  broke  from  the  pivot,  and  he  threw  that 
down  also  ;  but .  .  .  made  use  of  the  other  occasionally  to 
direct  his  course.  .  .  . 

In  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  sailing  over  Pall  Mall  at 
an  immense  height,  he  met  with  a  counter  current  of  air, 
which  carried  him  rapidly  a  north  easterly  course,  over 
Highgate.  .  .  .  The  globe  was  visible  from  various  parts  of 
the  town  till  near  five  o'clock,  appearing  then  not  larger 
than  a  tennis  ball,  soon  after  which  it  became  invisible.  .  .  . 

When  Mr  Lunardi  had  gained  the  utmost  altitude  of 
his  ascension,  he  felt  so  strong  a  propensity  for  sleeping, 
that  it  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  he  could  keep  him- 
self awake  ;  the  cold  at  this  time  became  so  intensely 
piercing,  as  to  render  Mr  Lunar di's  situation  in  it  almost 

90 


insupportable.  .  .  .  The  cat  was  .  .  .  benumbed  .  .  .  and 
had  not  Mr  Lunardi's  regard  for  his  dog  led  him  to  afford 
him  the  warmth  of  his  bosom,  the  animal  would  inevitably 
have  perished. 

The  prospects  were  grand  and  awful  beyond  the  power 
of  imagination.  .  .  . 

The  oar  which  dropped  was  dexterously  caught  by 
Mr  Season,  master  of  the  Magpye  alehouse,  the  corner 
of  Mutton  Lane  ;  one  of  the  wings  or  sails  .  .  .  was  taken 
up  by  ...  a  servant  at  the  Baptist's  Head,  St.  John's  Lane  : 
but  it  was  seized  and  torn  to  pieces  and  divided  among 
the  populace.  The  poor  woman,  with  streaming  eyes  and 
wringing  hands,  declared  that  the  loss  of  her  husband  or 
one  of  her  children  would  scarcely  have  given  her  more 
affliction  than  she  felt  at  being  so  cruelly  despoiled.  .  .  . 

After  Mr  Lunardi  had  been  up  ...  about  an  hour  and 
a  half,  the  thermometer  stood  at  35  degrees,  when  the 
atmosphere  was  so  cold,  that  icicles  were  upon  his  clothes, 
and  he  was  fearful  his  balloon  would  burst ;  at  this  time 
he  drank  several  glasses  of  wine  ...  on  throwing  out  some 
air  the  thermometer  rose  to  50,  when  the  atmosphere  was 
delightful.  ...  At  Northaw  ...  he  threw  out  his  cat  ... 
which  was  taken  up  alive.  .  .  . 

He  descended  a  little  past  five  o'clock,  at  a  place  called 
Colliers-end.  ...  It  is  computed  that  his  course  was  at 
the  rate  of  twenty  miles  an  hour,  and  that  at  times  he  was 
.  .  .  full  three  miles  from  the  earth.  .  .  . 

The  evening  previous  to  his  ascending  in  the  balloon, 
Mr  Lunardi  impelled  by  that  common  prudence  every 
man  ought  to  be  actuated  by,  and  not  through  the  impulse 
of  fear  .  .  .  signed  his  will,  with  a  degree  of  composure 
that  strongly  marked  the  philosopher  and  the  Christian. 

Without   attempting   to   enquire,   whether   aerostatic 

91 


experiments  have  a  further  tendency  than  to  amuse  the 
mind  and  gratify  curiosity,  the  occurrence  here  related  may 
probably  have  an  effect  highly  salutary  both  to  religion 
and  morality.  It  had  an  extraordinary  influence  on  the 
vulgar  uninformed.,  who  had  been  almost  unanimous  in 
declaring  the  project  impracticable.  Demonstration  hav- 
ing convinced  them  of  their  error,  they  will  in  future  be 
careful  not  obstinately  to  persevere  in  opinions  hastily 
and  inconsiderately  adopted.  Having  beheld  the  ingenuity 
of  man  accomplish  an  exploit  which  they  had  not  con- 
ceived to  be  within  the  scope  of  possibility,  by  a  natural 
transition,  the  firmament  fretted  with  golden  fires  will 
become  an  object  of  their  enquiry,  and  as  often  as  Mr 
Lunardi's  achievement  recurs  to  their  recollection,  ideas 
connected  with  the  Heavenly  system  will  arise  in  their 
minds  ;  and  ...  it  may  be  presumed,  will  be  a  powerful 
means  of  leading  the  mind  of  man  to  contemplate  the 
stupendous  works  of  the  creation,  and  consequently  to 
revere  and  venerate  the  great  and  omnipotent  Author  of 
our  being.  ANON 

Lunar  di^s  Grand  Aerostatic  Voyage  through  the  Air, 

containing  a  complete  and  circumstantial  Account  of  the 

Grand  Aerial  Flight  madeby  that  enter  prising  Foreigner, 

in  his  Air  Balloon,  on  Sept,  15,  1784. 


SUBLIME  PLEASURE 

The  whole  scene  before  me  filled  the  mind  with  a  sublime 
pleasure.  ...  I  uncorked  my  bottle,  eat,  drank,  and  wrote, 
just  as  in  my  study.  .  .  .  The  broom-sticks  of  the  witches, 
Ariostos  flying-horse,  even  Milton's  sunbeam  conveying 

92 


the  angel  to  the  earth,  have  all  an  idea  of  effort .  .  .  which 
do  not  affect  a  voyage  in  the  Balloon.  Thus  tranquil,  and 
thus  situated,  how  shall  I  describe  to  you  a  view,  such  as 
the  antients  supposed  Jupiter  to  have  of  the  earth  ?  .  .  . 

At  half  after  three  o'clock,  I  descended  in  a  cornfield, 
on  the  common  of  South  Mimms,  where  I  landed  the 
cat.  ...  At  twenty  minutes  past  four,  I  descended  in  a 
meadow. . . .  Some  labourers  were  at  work  in  it.  I  requested 
their  assistance  ;  they  exclaimed,  they  would  have  nothing 
to  do  with  one  who  came  on  the  Devil's  horse  ...  I  at  last 
owed  my  deliverance  to  the  spirit  and  generosity  of  a 
female.  A  young  woman  .  .  .  took  hold  of  a  cord  which 
I  had  thrown  out,  and  calling  to  the  men,  they  yielded 
their  assistance.  .  .  . 

The  interest  which  the  spectators  took  in  my  voyage 
was  so  great,  that  the  things  I  threw  down  were  divided 
and  preserved,  as  our  people  would  relicks  of  the  most 
celebrated  saints.  And  a  gentlewoman,  mistaking  the  oar 
for  my  person,  was  so  affected  with  my  supposed  destruc- 
tion, that  she  died  in  a  few  days.  This  circumstance  being 
mentioned  .  .  .  when  I  had  the  honour  of  dining  with  the 
Judges  ...  I  was  very  politely  requested  .  .  .  not  to  be 
concerned  at  the  involuntary  loss  I  had  occasioned  ;  that 
I  had  certainly  saved  the  life  of  a  young  man  who  might 
possibly  be  reformed  and  be  to  the  public  a  compensation 
for  the  loss  of  the  lady.  For  the  jury  was  deliberating  on 
the  fate  of  a  criminal  whom  .  .  .  they  must  have  con- 
demned, when  the  Balloon  appeared,  and  a  general  inatten- 
tion and  confusion  ensued.  The  jury  .  .  .  acquitted  the 
criminal  immediately,  on  which  the  court  adjourned  to 
indulge  itself  in  observing  so  novel  a  spectacle. 

V.   LUNARDI 

Letter  to  Gherardo  Compagni,  in  Naples  (Sept.  24, 1784) 
93 


WHAT  GLORY  ! 


I  went,  with  a  light  heart,  to  the  Parliament  House  [Edin- 
burgh] where  my  Balloon  is  exhibited,  being  in  a  happy 
frame  of  mind  for  enjoying  the  conversation  of  the  ladies, 
no  less  than  200  of  whom  have  honoured  me  with  their 
company  this  morning.  Happy  mortal  !  you  exclaim  : 
— and  well  you  might,  could  you  form  any  adequate  idea 
of  the  Scottish  Beauties  !  .  .  .  Ah  !  what  glory  to  ascend 
my  AERIAL  CHARIOT  in  their  view  !  to  be  the  object  of 
their  admiration  !  to  have  all  their  eyes  turned  to  me  ! 
all  their  prayers  and  wishes  breathed  forth  for  my  safety ! 
and  to  hear  their  united  acclamations  !  Oh  Heaven  !  my 
very  brain  turns  giddy  with  the  thought,  and  my  whole 
soul  anticipates  the  happy  moment  ! 

I  have  just  received  letters  from  three  ladies,  express- 
ing their  wishes  to  accompany  me  on  my  voyage.  .  .  .  How 
unfortunate  that  the  Balloon  should  be  too  small  to  ascend 
with  more  than  one  person  !  And  I  have  not  time  to 
enlarge  it,  or  else — 

Ibid. 
(Oct.  4,  1785) 


M.BLANCHARD  AND  M.  BOBY 


I  took  my  departure  from  Rouen  with  M.  Boby,  at  a 
quarter  past  five.  .  .  .  While  we  were  ascending  vertically 
in  a  majestic  manner,  we  continually  saluted  the  Spectators 
with  our  flags.  .  .  . 

We  found  ourselves  becalmed.  .  .  .  Having  attentively 

94 


surveyed  the  vast  expanse  and  contemplated  the  beauty  of 
the  clouds,  which  rolled  over  each  other  like  a  tempestuous 
sea,  we  congratulated  ourselves  on  the  occasion.  .  .  .  The 
rarefied  air  gave  M.  Boby  an  appetite.  He  ate,  and  I  fol- 
lowed his  example  ...  we  drank  to  the  health  of  the  city  of 
Rouen  and  the  Earth  in  general.  .  .  . 

It  was  now,  for  the  first  time,  that  we  opened  the  Valve, 
in  order  to  descend  ;  it  produced  the  desired  effect.  .  .  . 
What  was  the  astonishment  of  my  Companion  when  he 
perceived  himself  resting  lightly  on  the  tops  of  the  leaves  ! 
.  .  .  Looking  at  me,  he  exclaimed  with  rapture,  Ah,  what  a 
majestic  descent !  Observing  a  great  number  of  peasants 
running  towards  us,  he  expressed  a  desire  to  reascend, 
as  it  was  impossible  to  know  their  intentions.  .  .  .  The 
outcries  of  the  peasants  invited  our  return  .  .  .  and  we 
accosted  them  about  the  height  of  one  hundred  feet. 
.  .  .  The  most  courageous  contemplated  us  and  exclaimed, 
"  Are  you  Men,  or  Gods  ?  What  are  you  ?  Make  your- 
selves known  !  "  We  replied.  We  are  men  like  you,  and 
here  is  a  proof  of  it.  We  took  off  our  coats,  and  threw  them 
down ;  they  seized  on  them  eagerly,  and  began  to  divide 
them  in  pieces.  .  .  .  We  came  lightly  down  on  a  piece  of 
corn,  the  ears  of  which  supported  us  ;  we  floated  for  some 
time  in  that  situation,  and  nothing  surely,  could  be  more 
majestic  than  to  see  us  glide  along  the  surface  of  it.  At 
last  we  rested  upon  the  Earth. 

JEAN  PIERRE  BLANCHARD 

An  exact  Narrative  of  his 

yd  Aerial  Voyage.,  accompanied  by  M. 

Boby  (July   18,   1784) 


95 


THIS  PUFFED  UP  MACHINE 


Tho'  Miracles  cease  yet  Wonders  increase. 
Imposition  plays  up  her  old  tune, 
Our  old  gallic  Neighbours'  scientifical  labours 
Have  invented  the  Air  Balloon. 


This  puff'd  up  Machine,  most  Frenchmen  have  seen. 

And  perhaps  as  a  very  great  boon 

Our  wide  gaping  Isle  Sir,  may  expect  in  short  while 

Sir, 
The  wonderful  Air  Balloon. 


It  will  mount  up  on  high,  almost  to  the  Sky, 
You  may  peep  if  you  please  in  the  Moon  : 
All  Mathematicians,  and  deep  Politicians, 
Admire  the  Air  Balloon. 


Should  war  'gain  break  out,  as  it  is  not  a  doubt 

With  Some  that  it  may  happen  soon, 

The  French  will  invade  us,  their  Troops  all  parade 

us, 

Brought  o'er  in  an  Air  Balloon. 
96 


7 

Then  Ships  will  appear,  not  in  Water  but  Air, 
And  come  in  a  twinkling  down  : 
From  Calais  to  Dover,  how  quick  they'll  be  over, 
Blown  up  with  the  Air  Balloon. 

8 

Blood  and  Oons  then,  says  Pat,  but  I  can't  believe  that, 
'Tis  the  tale  of  some  hum-bugging  loon  : 
So  I  say  Botheration  to  the  Frog-eating  Nation, 
Likewise  to  the  Air  Balloon. 

MR.    OAKMAN 

(1784) 

AN   AlRGONAUT 


Yesterday  sevennight,  as  I  was  coming  down  stairs  at 
Strawberry,  to  my  chaise,  my  housekeeper  told  me,  that 
if  I  would  go  into  the  garden,  I  might  see  a  balloon  ;  so  I 
did,  and  so  high,  that  though  the  sun  shone,  I  could  scarce 
distinguish  it,  and  not  bigger  than  my  snuff-box.  It  had 
set  out  privately  from  Moulsey,  in  my  neighbourhood,  and 
went  higher  than  any  airgonaut  had  yet  reached.  But  Mr. 
Windham,  and  Sadler  his  pilot,  were  near  meeting  the  fate 
of  Icarus  ;  and  though  they  did  land  safely,  their  bladder- 
vessel  flew  away  again,  and  may  be  drowned  in  the  moon 
for  what  we  know !  Three  more  balloons  sail  to-day ;  in 
short,  we  shall  have  a  prodigious  navy  in  the  air,  and  then 
what  signifies  having  lost  the  empire  of  the  ocean  ? 

HORACE   WALPOLE 

Letter  to  Sir  Horace  Mann  (1785) 
DP  97 


OVER  EAST  ANGLIA 


Before  me  I  could  see  the  pearl-grey  water  netted  with 
tiny  ripples,  the  yellow  sands,  and  ahead  of  me  the  sunshine 
falling  dimly  through  the  mussel-shell  slate  mother-of- 
pearl  mist,  thickened  here  and  there  in  curdled  spots  of 
white  cloud.  The  mouth  of  the  Ouse  ran  like  a  bar  of 
silver  through  the  wriggling  mud-flats  to  King's  Lynn. 
As  I  passed  over  the  town,  flying  almost  directly  into  the 
sun,  the  distant  cuts,  drains,  dykes,  waterways  and  rivers 
gleamed  high  up,  suddenly  startling  me  with  the  dazzle  of 
ghostly  silver  Zeppelins  on  my  own  level  in  the  air.  I  was 
flying  just  below  the  clouds,  and  when  I  reached  the  Bedford 
River  I  pressed  back  the  stick  to  go  up  through  them. 
Clouds  cloaked  me  in  shapelessness,  the  machine  bumped 
gently,  I  opened  the  throttle  a  trifle  as  the  r.p.m.  fell  off  a 
little,  shreds  of  vapour  passed  by  me  and  the  sun  shone  more 
radiant  and  more  golden.  At  3,000  I  was  above  the  plain  of 
vapour.  The  sun  shone  brilliantly,  black  shadows  of 
struts  and  wires  striped  my  wings.  On  my  left  a  vast  area 
of  milk  was  ruffled  here  and  there  with  white-cap  breakers. 
A  wall  of  skimmed  milk  stretched  facing  me  across  the  sky. 
But  on  my  right  the  milky  sea  was  calm  :  no  cloud  clotted, 
with  curdled  white,  the  almost  transparent  whey.  Yet 
even  that  sea  was  not  absolutely  uniform,  but  watered  and 
laced  with  long,  low,  gentle  waves  that  divided  the  pacific 
calm.  I  was  alone,  and  a  happy  forgetfulness  came  over  me 
as  I  gazed  at  this  mood  of  Nature's. 

Plane,  engine,  oil  and  air-speed  were  forgotten,  as  a  car 
is  forgotten,  and  at  5,000  feet  I  floated  in  a  soundless 
disembodied  dream,  waking  occasionally,  it  is  true,  to 
put  my  head  into  the  cockpit  and  peer  blindly  until  my 

98 


sun-dazzled  eyes  could  make  the  compass  out.  I  was  on  my 
course — and  there  on  my  left  was  Ely  and  before  me — rising 
up  as  high  as  my  own  level — the  sunlit  loops  of  the  Cam, 
somewhere  near  Cambridge,  seen  sparkling  through  the 
bank  of  pearl-grey  mist. ...  I  shut  the  throttle  and  glided 
down.  .  .  .  The  machine  bumped  as  I  passed  through 

cloud.  The  air-speed  fell  to  60  as  I  glided  slowly  down 

I  did  a  big  side-slip,  but  even  so  I  overshot  and  went  round 
again.  This  time  my  approach  was  perfect,  and  my  landing 
curiously  soft  and  dreamlike.  I  was  on  the  earth,  but  the 
earth  was  unreal :  a  limbo  of  haze  and  softened  sunlight. 
Reality  was  far  above  me.  There  were  no  shadows  here  on 
earth  and  scarcely  any  sounds  except  that  my  ear  squeaked 
suddenly  as  the  air  rushed  into  the  eustachian  tube. 

DAVID    GARNETT 

A  Rabbit  in  the  Air  (1932) 


AMONG  THE  STARS 


He  climbed  and  it  grew  easier  to  correct  the  plunges  for 
the  stars  gave  him  his  bearings.  Their  pale  magnet  drew 
him  up  ;  after  that  long  and  bitter  quest  for  light,  for 
nothing  in  the  world  would  he  forgo  the  frailest  gleam. 
If  the  glimmer  of  a  little  inn  were  all  his  riches,  he  would 
turn  around  this  token  of  his  heart's  desire  until  his 
death  !  So  now  he  soared  towards  the  fields  of  light.  .  .  . 

In  a  flash,  the  very  instant  he  had  risen  clear,  the  pilot 
found  a  peace  that  passed  his  understanding.  Not  a  ripple 
tilted  the  plane  but,  like  a  ship  that  has  crossed  the  bar, 

99 


it  moved  within  a  tranquil  anchorage.  In  an  unknown  and 
secret  corner  of  the  sky  it  floated,  as  in  a  harbour  of  the 
Happy  Isles.  Below  him  still  the  storm  was  fashioning 
another  world,  thridded  with  squall  and  cloudbursts 
and  lightnings,  but  turning  to  the  stars  a  face  of  crystal 
snow. 

Now  all  grew  luminous,  his  hands,  his  clothes,  the 
wings,  and  Fabien  thought  that  he  was  in  a  limbo  of 
strange  magic ;  for  the  light  did  not  come  down  from  the 
stars  but  welled  up  from  below,  from  all  that  snowy 
whiteness. 

The  clouds  beneath  threw  up  the  flakes  the  moon  was 
pouring  on  them  ;  on  every  hand  they  loomed  like  towers 
of  snow.  A  milky  stream  of  light  flowed  everywhere, 
laving  the  plane  and  crew.  When  Fabien  turned  he  saw 
the  wireless  operator  smile. 

"  That's  better  !  "  he  cried. 

But  his  words  were  drowned  by  the  rumour  of  the 
flight ;  they  conversed  in  smiles.  Pm  daft,  thought  Fabien, 
to  be  smiling ;  we're  lost. 

And  yet — at  last  a  myriad  dark  arms  had  let  him  go ; 
those  bonds  of  his  were  loosed,  as  of  a  prisoner  whom  they 
let  walk  a  while  in  liberty  amongst  the  flowers. 

"  Too  beautiful,"  he  thought.  Amid  the  far-flung 
treasure  of  the  stars  he  roved,  in  a  world  where  no  life  was, 
no  faintest  breath  of  life,  save  his  and  his  companion's. 
Like  plunderers  of  fabled  cities  they  seemed,  immured  in 
treasure-vaults  whence  there  is  no  escape.  Amongst 
these  frozen  jewels  they  were  wandering,  rich  beyond  all 
dreams,  but  doomed. 

ANTOINE  DE  SAINT-EXUPERY 

Vol  de  Nuit 
Trans,  by  Stuart  Gilbert  (1932) 

100 


RIDING  A  STAR 

Nakar  and  Damilcar  descend  in  Clouds^  and  sing 
NAKAR  : 

Merry,  merry,  merry,  we  sail  from  the  East 

Half  tippled  at  a  Rain-bow  Feast. 
DAM  : 

In  the  bright  Moon-shine  while  winds  whistle  loud, 

Tivy,  tivy,  tivy,  we  mount  and  we  fly, 

All  racking  along  in  a  downy  white  Cloud  : 

And  lest  our  leap  from  the  Skie  should  prove  too  far, 

We  slide  on  the  back  of  a  new-falling  Star. 
NAKAR  : 

And  drop  from  above 

In  a  Gelly  of  Love  ! 
DAM  : 

But  now  the  Sun's  down,  and  the  Element's  red, 

The  Spirits  of  Fire  against  us  make  head  ! 
NAKAR  : 

They  muster,  they  muster,  like  Gnats  in  the  Air, 

Alas  !  I  must  leave  thee,  my  Fair  ; 

And  to  my  light  Horse-men  repair. 
DAM  : 

O  stay,  for  you  need  not  to  fear  'em  to-night ; 

The  wind  is  for  us,  and  blows  full  in  their  fight : 

And  o're  the  wide  Ocean  we  fight ! 

Like  leaves  in  the  Autumn  our  foes  will  fall  down, 

And  hiss  in  the  water— 
NAKAR  : 

But  their  men  lye  securely  intrench'd  in  a  Cloud  : 

And  a  Trumpeter-Hornet  to  battel  sound  loud. 

JOHN  DRYDEN 

Tyrannick  Love  (1670) 
101 


ASTRONOMY 


What  you  say  is  true,  said  she,  I  love  the  Stars,  there  is 
somewhat  charming  in  them,  and  I  could  almost  be  angry 
with  the  Sun  for  effacing  'em.  I  can  never  pardon  him,  / 
cry'd,  for  keeping  all  those  Worlds  from  my  sight :  What 
Worlds,  said  she,  looking  earnestly  upon  me,  what  Worlds 
do  you  mean  ?  . .  .  Alas,  said  I,  I  am  asham'd,  I  must  own 
it,  I  have  had  a  strong  Fancy  every  Star  is  a  World.  I  will 
not  swear  it  is  true,  but  must  think  so,  because  it  is  so 
pleasant  to  believe  it :  'Tis  a  fancy  come  into  my  head,  and 
is  very  diverting.  If  your  folly  be  so  diverting,  said  the 
Countess,  Pray  make  me  sensible  of  it ;  provided  the 
Pleasure  be  so  great,  I  will  believe  of  the  Stars  all  you 
would  have  me.  It  is,  said  I,  a  diversion,  Madam,  I  fear 
you  will  not  relish,  'tis  not  like  one  of  Moliere's  Plays,  'tis  a 
Pleasure  rather  of  the  fancy  than  of  the  Judgment.  .  .  . 

BERNARD   DE   FONTENELLE 

A  Plurality  of  Worlds 
Trans.  John  Glanvill  (1688) 


I  am  glad,  said  the  Lady,  I  have  learnt  the  Genealogie  of 
the  Sciences,  and  am  convinc'd  I  must  stick  to  Astronomy, 
my  Soul  is  not  mercenary  enough  for  Geometry,  nor  is  it 
tender  enough  for  Poetry ;  but  I  have  as  much  time  to 
spare  as  Astronomy  requires,  beside,  we  are  now  in  the 
Countrey,  and  lead  a  kind  of  Pastoral  life,  all  which  suits 
best  with  Astronomy.  .  .  .  Give  me  as  little  trouble  as  you 
can  to  comprehend  you.  Fear  it  not,  Madam,  said  I.  .  .  . 
Imagine  then  a  German  call'd  Copernicus  confounding  every 
thing,  tearing  in  pieces  the  beloved  Circles  of  Antiquity, 

102 


and  shattering  their  Crystal  Heavens  like  so  many  Glass 
Windows :  seiz'd  with  the  noble  Rage  of  Astronomy,  he 
snatcheth  up  the  Earth  from  the  Centre  of  the  Universe, 
sends  her  packing,  and  placeth  the  Sun  in  the  Centre.  . .  . 
All  now  turns  round  the  Sun,  the  Earth  herself  goes 
round  the  Sun,  and  Copernicus  to  punish  the  Earth  for  her 
former  lazyness  makes  her  contribute  all  he  can  to  the 
Motion  of  the  Planets  and  Heavens,  and  now  stripp'd  of  all 
the  heavenly  Equipage  with  which  she  was  so  gloriously 
attended,  she  hath  nothing  left  her  but  the  Moon,  which 
still  turns  round  her  .  .  .  and  doth  not  leave  her,  but  as  the 
Earth  advanceth  in  the  Circle  which  she  describeth  about 
the  Sun,  and  if  the  Moon  turns  round  the  Sun,  it  is  because 
she  will  not  quit  the  Earth.  I  understand  you,  said  she.,  and 
I  love  the  Moon  for  staying  with  us  when  all  the  other 
Planets  do  abandon  us  ;  nay,  I  fear  your  German  would 
have  willingly  taken  her  away  too  if  he  could,  for  in  all  his 
proceedings,  I  find  he  had  a  great  spight  to  the  Earth. 
'Twas  well  done  of  him,  said  /,  to  abate  the  Vanity  of 
Mankind,  who  had  taken  up  the  best  place  in  the  Universe, 
and  it  pleaseth  me  to  see  the  Earth  in  the  croud  of  the 
Planets.  Sure,  said  she,  you  do  not  think  their  Vanity 
extends  it  self  as  far  as  Astronomy  !  Do  you  believe  you 
have  humbled  me,  in  telling  me  the  Earth  goes  round  the 
Sun  ?  For  my  part,  I  do  not  think  my  self  at  all  the  worse 

for't 

I  told  her  of  a  third  Systemc,  invented  by  Ticho  Brake., 
who  had  fix'd  the  Earth  in  the  Centre  of  the  World,  turn'd 
the  Sun  round  the  Earth,  and  the  rest  of  the  Planets  round 
the  Sun.  .  .  .  But  the  Countess,  who  had  a  quick  appre- 
hension, said,  she  thought  it  was  too  affected,  among  so 
many  great  Bodies,  to  exempt  the  Earth  only  from  turning 
round  the  Sun  .  .  .  and  that  tho'  this  Systeme  was  to 

103 


prove  the  immobility  of  the  Earth,  yet  she  thought  it 
very  improbable.  So  we  resolv'd  to  stick  to  Copernicus,, 
whose  opinion  we  thought  most  Uniform,  Probable,  and 
Diverting. 


Let  us  leave  Mars,  he  is  not  worth  our  stay  :  But  what 
a  pretty  thing  is  Jupiter,  with  his  four  Moons.,  or  Yeomen 
of  the  Guard  ;  they  are  four  little  Planets  that  turn  round 
him,  as  our  Moon  turns  round  us. 


STAR-GAZING 

Look  at  the  stars  !  look,  look  up  at  the  skies  ! 

O  look  at  all  the  fire-folk  sitting  in  the  air  ! 
The  bright  boroughs,  the  circle-citadels  there  ! 
Down  in  dim  woods  the  diamond  delves  !  the  elves'  eyes  ! 
The  grey  lawns  cold  where  gold,  where  quickgold  lies  ! 

Wind-beat  whitebeam  !  airy  abeles  set  on  a  flare  ! 

Flake-doves  sent  floating  forth  at  a  farmyard  scare  ! — 
Ah  well  !  it  is  all  a  purchase,  all  is  a  prize. 
Buy  then  !  bid  then  ! — What  ? — Prayer,  patience,  alms, 

vows. 
Look,  look ;  a  May-mess,  like  on  orchard  boughs  ! 

Look  !    March-bloom,    like    on    mealed-with-yellovv 

sallows  ! 

These  are  indeed  the  barn ;  withindoors  house 
The  shocks.  This  piece-bright  paling  shuts  the  spouse 

Christ  home,  Christ  and  his  mother  and  all  his  hallows. 

GERARD  MANLEY   HOPKINS 

The  Starlight  Night  (1877) 
104 


BIRDS  OF  PLEASURE 

But  the  Nightinghale  (another  of  my  airy  creatures)  breathes 
such  sweet  loud  musick  out  of  her  little  instrumental 
throat,  that  it  might  make  mankind  to  think  miracles  are 
not  ceased.  He  that  at  midnight  (when  the  very  laborer 
sleeps  securely)  should  hear  (as  I  have  very  often)  the 
clear  aires,  the  sweet  descant ,  the  natural  rising  and  falling, 
the  doubling  and  redoubling  of  her  voice,  might  well  be 
lifted  above  earth,  and  say,  Lord,  what  musick  hast  thou 
provided  for  the  Saints  in  Heaven,  when  thou  affordest 
men  such  musick  on  earth  ! 

And  this  makes  me  the  lesse  to  wonder  at  the  many 
Aviaries  in  Italy,  or  at  the  great  charge  of  Varro  his 
Aviarie,  the  remaines  of  which  are  yet  to  be  seen  in 
Rome.  .  .  . 

This  for  the  birds  of  pleasure,  of  which  very  much 
more  might  be  said. 

IZAAK   WALTON 

The  Compleat  Angler  (1653) 


RAPHAEL  DESCENDS 

Nor  delaid  the  winged  saint 
After  his  charge  receivd  ;  but  from  among 
Thousand  Celestial  Ardors,  where  he  stood 
Vaild  with  his  gorgeous  wings,  up  springing  light 
Flew  through  the  midst  of  Heav'n  ;  th'  angelic  Quires 
On  each  hand  parting,  to  his  speed  gave  way 
Through  all  th'  Empyreal  road  ;  .  .  .  . 

....  Down  thither  prone  in  flight, 
105 


He  speeds,  and  through  the  vast  Ethereal  Skie 

Sailes  between  the  worlds  and  worlds,  with  steddie  wing 

Now  on  the  polar  windes,  then  with  quick  Fann 

Winnows  the  buxom  Air ;  till  within  soare 

Of  Towring  Eagles,  to  all  the  Fowles  he  seems 

A  Phoenix,  gaz'd  by  all,  as  that  sole  Bird 

When  to  enshrine  his  reliques  in  the  Sun's 

Bright  Temple,  to  ^Egyptian  TheVs  he  flies. 

At  once  on  th'  Eastern  cliff  of  Paradise 

He  lights,  and  to  his  proper  shape  returns 

A  Seraph  winged  ;  six  wings  he  wore,  to  shade 

His  lineaments  Divine  ;  the  pair  that  clad 

Each  shoulder  broad,  came  mantling  o're  his  brest 

With  regal  Ornament ;  the  middle  pair 

Girt  like  a  Starrie  Zone  his  waste,  and  round 

Skirted  his  loines  and  thighes  with  downie  Gold 

And  colours  dipt  in  Heav'n  ;  the  third  his  feet 

Shaddowd  from  either  heele  with  featherd  maile 

Skie-tinctur'd  grain.  Like  Maid's  son  he  stood, 

And  shook  his  Plumes,  that  Heav'nly  fragrance  filld 

The  circuit  wide.  Strait  knew  all  the  Bands 

Of  Angels  under  watch  ;  and  to  his  state, 

And  to  his  message  high  in  honour  rise ; 

For  on  som  message  high  they  guessed  him  bound. 

Thir  glittering  Tents  he  passd,  and  now  is  come 

Into  the  blissful  field,  through  Groves  of  Myrrhe, 

And  flouring  Odours,  Cassia,  Nard,  and  Balme  ; 

A  Wilderness  of  sweets  ;  for  Nature  here 

Wantond  as  in  her  prime,  and  plaid  at  will 

Her  Virgin  Fancies,  pouring  forth  more  sweet, 

Wilde  above  rule  or  Art ;  enormous  bliss. 

JOHN  MILTON 

Paradise  Lost.  Book  V  (1667) 
106 


CHRISTMAS 


DANCING  IN  CHURCH 

Captain  Potter  (born  in  the  north  of  Yorkshire)  sayes 
that  in  the  country  churches,  at  Christmas,  in  the  Holy- 
daies  after  Prayers,  they  will  dance  in  the  Church,  and 
as  they  doe  dance  they  cry  (or  sing) 

"  Yole,  Yole,  Yole,  etc." 

JOHN   AUBREY 

Remains  of  Gentilism  and  Judaism  (1687) 


THE  YULE  LOG 


In  the  west  riding  of  Yorkshire  on  Xmass  Eve,  at  night, 
they  bring  in  a  large  Yule-log,  or  Xmass  block,  and  set  it 
on  fire,  and  lap  their  Christmas  ale,  and  sing, 
"  Yule,  Yule, 
A  pack  of  new  cards  and  Xmass  stool." 

Ibid. 
107 


A  BUSY  CHRISTMAS  EVE 


On  Christmas  eve  I  went  not  to  bed,  being  desirous  of 
seeing  the  many  extraordinary  ceremonies  performed  then 
in  their  churches,  as  midnight  masses  and  sermons.  I 
walked  from  church  to  church  the  whole  night  in  admira- 
tion at  the  multitude  of  sceanes  and  pageantry  which  the 
friars  had  with  much  industry  set  out,  to  catch  the  devout 
women  and  superstitious  sort  of  people,  who  never  parted 
without  dropping  some  money  into  a  vessell  set  on 
purpose ;  but  especially  observable  was  the  pupetry  in 
the  Church  of  the  Minerva,  representing  the  Nativity. 
I  thence  went  and  heard  a  sermon  at  the  Apollinare ;  by 
which  time  it  was  morning. 

JOHN  EVELYN 
Diary  (Rome  1644) 


THE  MYRTH  OF  THE  HONEST 


It  is  now  Christmas,  and  not  a  Cup  of  drinke  must  passe 
without  a  Caroll,  the  Beasts,  Fowle  and  Fish,  come  to  a 
generall  execution,  and  the  Corne  is  ground  to  dust  for 
the  Bakehouse,  and  the  Pastry  :  Cards  and  Dice  purge 
many  a  purse,  .  .  .  now  good  cheere  and  welcome,  and 
God  be  with  you,  and  I  thanke  you  :  and  against  the  new 
yeere,  provide  for  the  presents  :  the  Lord  of  Mis-rule  is 
no  meane  man  for  his  time,  and  the  ghests  of  the  high 
Table  must  lacke  no  Wine  :  the  lusty  bloods  must  looke 
about  them  like  men,  and  piping  the  dauncing  puts  away 

108 


much  melancholy  :  stolne  Venison  is  sweet,  and  a  fat 
Coney  is  worth  money  : . . .  a  good  fire  heats  all  the  house, 
and  a  full  Almes-basket  makes  the  Beggers  Prayers  :  the 
Maskers  and  Mummers  make  the  merry  sport :  .  .  . 
Swearers  and  Swaggerers  are  sent  away  to  the  Ale-house, 
and  unruly  Wenches  goe  in  danger  of  Judgement : 
Musicians  now  make  their  Instruments  speake  out,  and  a 
good  song  is  worth  the  hearing.  In  summe,  it  is  holy 
time,  a  duty  in  Christians,  for  the  remembrance  of  Christ, 
and  custome  among  friends,  for  the  maintenance  of  good 
fellowship  :  in  briefe,  I  thus  conclude  of  it :  I  hold  it  a 
memory  of  the  Heavens  Love,  and  the  worlds  peace,  the 
myrth  of  the  honest,  and  the  meeting  of  the  friendly. 

NICHOLAS   BRETON 

Fantasticks  (1626) 


CLOTHES 


A  WELL-DRESSED  MAN 

LADY  TOWNLEY  :  He's  very  fine. 
EMILIA  :  Extream  proper. 

SIR  FOPLING  :  A  slight  suit  I  made  to  appear  in  at  my  first 
arrival,  not  worthy  your  consideration,  Ladies. 

109 


DORRIMANT  :  The  Pantaloon  is  very  well  mounted. 
SIR  FOP.  :  The  Tassels  are  new  and  pretty. 
MEDLEY  :  I  never  saw  a  Coat  better  cut. 
SIR  FOP.  :  It  makes  me  show  long-wasted,  and  I  think 
slender. 

DOR.  :  That's  the  shape  our  Ladies  doat  on. 
MED.  :  Your  breech,  though,  is  a  handfull  too  high,  in  my 
eye,  Sir  Fopling. 

SIR  FOP.  :  Peace,  Medley ,  I  have  wish'd  it  lower  a  thous- 
and times,  but  a  Pox  on't,  'twill  not  be. 
LADY  TOWN.  :  His  Gloves  are  well  fring'd,  large  and 
graceful. 
SIR  FOP.  :  I  was  always  eminent  for  being  bien  gante. 

EMILIA  :  He  wears  nothing  but  what  are  Originals  of  the 
most  famous  hands  in  Paris. 

SIR  FOP.  :  You  are  in  the  right,  Madam. 

LADY  TOWN.  :  The  Suit  ? 

SIR  FOP.  :  Barroy. 

EMILIA  :  The  Garniture  ? 

SIR  FOP.  :  Le  Gras. 

MED.  :  The  Shooes  ? 

SIR  FOP.  :  Piccar. 

DOR.  :  The  Perriwig  ? 

SIR  FOP.  :  Chedreux. 

LADY  TOWN,  and  EMILIA  :  The  Gloves  ? 

SIR  FOP.  :  Orangerie  !  You  know  the  smell,  Ladies  ! 

SIR   GEORGE   ETHEREGE 

The  Man  of  Mode  (1676) 
no 


SILK  STOCKINGS 


In  the  second  yeere  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  1560,  her  silke 
woman,  Mistris  Montague,  presented  her  majestic  for  a 
new  yeere's  gift,  a  paire  of  black  knit  silk  stockings,  the 
which,  after  a  few  dayes  wearing,  pleased  her  highness  so 
well,  that  she  sent  for  Mistris  Montague,  and  asked  her 
where  she  had  them,  and  if  she  could  help  her  to  any  more ; 
who  answered,  saying,  "  I  made  them  very  carefully  of 
purpose  onely  for  your  majestic,  and  seeing  these  please 
you  so  well,  I  will  presently  set  more  in  hand."  "  Do  soe 
(quoth  the  queene)  for  indeed  I  like  silke  stockings  so  well, 
because  they  are  pleasant,  fine,  and  delicate,  that  henceforth 
I  will  wear  no  more  CLOTH  STOCKINGS  "—and  from  that 
time  unto  her  death  the  queene  never  wore  any  more  cloth 
hose,  but  onely  silke  stockings. 

JOHN  STOW 

Annals  (1580-1605) 


YOUNG  GENTLEMEN'S  CLOTHES 


LADY  (to  her  sons) :  Come  hether  both  of  you,  doe  you 
weare  your  cloathes  Gentle-men  like  ?  Where  is  your 
hat-band  ?  . . .  Have  you  taken  cleane  shirts  this  morning  ? 
Your  bands  .be  not  cleane.  Why  have  you  taken  your 
wast-coates  ?  Is  it  so  colde  ?  Button  your  Dublet,  are  you 
not  ashamed  to  be  so  untrussed  ?  Where  is  your  Jerkin  ? 
for  this  morning  is  somewhat  colde  :  And  you  also,  take 
your  coate,  are  you  ungirt  ?  Boy  Neuf-a-Bien,  heere  you  ? 

in 


You  do  nothing  but  play  trickes  there,  Goe  fetch  your 
Masters  silver  hatched  Daggers,  you  have  not  brushed 
their  breeches,  Bring  the  brushes  and  brush  them  before 
me.  Lord  God  how  dustie  they  are  !  They  are  full  of  dust, 
what  stockins  have  you  ?  Your  silke  stockins  or  your 
wosted  hose  ?  Put  on  your  garters  embroidered  with 
silver,  for  it  may  be  that  yee  shall  goe  foorth  w^th  me, 
where  are  your  Cuffes  and  your  falles  ?  Have  you  cleane 
handkerchers  ?  Take  your  perfumed  gloves  that  are 
lyned,  Put  on  your  gownes  untill  we  goe,  and  then  you 
shall  take  your  cloakes  lyned  with  Taffate,  and  your 
Rapiers  with  silver  hikes.  Tye  your  shooe-stringes.  Well, 
take  your  bootes,  your  boot-hosen,  and  your  gilt  spurres. 
Ri(chard)  Neuf-a-Bien,  have  you  made  cleane  their  shooes 
to-day  ? 

RICHARD  NEUF-A-BIEN  :  Yea,  Madame. 
LADY  :  Truely  so  it  seemes,  come  hether  you  brasen-facte 
Iyer,  art  thou  not  ashamed  to  affirme  so  apparent  a  lye 
before  me  ?  The  myre  and  durt  sticke  on  them  yet.  Seest 
thou  not  that  they  are  all  durtie  ? 

PIERRE  ERONDELL 

The  French  Garden  (1605) 


FEMALE  CONVERSATION 

In  a  Room  where  both  Sexes  meet,  if  the  Men  are  dis- 
coursing upon  any  general  Subject,  the  Ladies  never 
think  it  their  business  to  partake  in  what  passes,  but  in  a 
separate  Club  entertain  each  other,  with  the  price  and 
choice  of  Lace  and  Silk,  and  what  Dresses  they  liked  or  dis- 
approved at  the  Church  or  the  Play-House.  And  when  you 

112 


are  among  yourselves,  how  naturally,  after  the  first  Com- 
plements, do  you  apply  your  hands  to  each  other's  Lap- 
pets and  Ruffles  and  Mantuas,  as  if  the  whole  business  of 
your  Lives,  and  the  publick  concern  of  the  World,  depended 
upon  the  Cut  and  colour  of  your  Dresses.  As  Divines  say, 
that  some  People  take  more  pains  to  be  damned,  than  it 
would  cost  them  to  be  Saved  ;  so  your  Sex  employs  more 
thought,  memory,  and  application  to  be  Fools,  than  would 
serve  to  make  them  wise  and  useful.  When  I  reflect  on  this, 
I  cannot  conceive  you  to  be  Human  Creatures,  but  a  sort 
of  Species  hardly  a  degree  above  a  Monkey  ;  who  has  more 
diverting  Tricks  than  any  of  you  ;  is  an  Animal  less  mis- 
chievous and  expensive,  might  in  time  be  a  tolerable 
Critick  in  Velvet  and  Brocade,  and  for  ought  I  know 
wou'd  equally  become  them. 

I  would  have  you  look  upon  Finery  as  a  necessary  Folly, 
as  all  great  Ladies  did  whom  I  have  ever  known  :  I  do 
not  desire  you  to  be  out  of  the  fashion,  but  to  be  the  last 
and  least  in  it :  ...  and  in  your  own  heart  I  would  wish  you 
to  be  an  utter  Contemner  of  all  Distinctions  which  a  finer 
Petticoat  can  give  you ;  because  it  will  neither  make  you 
richer,  handsomer,  younger,  better  natur'd,  more  vertu- 
ous,  or  wise,  than  if  it  hung  upon  a  Peg. 

JONATHAN   SWIFT 

Letter  to  a  Young  Lady  (1727) 


FRUIT  ON  THE  HEAD 

Again  I  am  annoyed  by  the  foolish  absurdity  of  the  present 
mode  of  dress.  Some  ladies  carry  on  their  heads  a  large 
quantity  of  fruit,  and  yet  they  would  despise  a  poor  useful 

113 


member  of  society,  who  carried  it  there  for  the  purpose  of 
selling  it  for  bread.  Some,  at  the  back  of  their  perpendicu- 
lar caps,  hang  four  or  five  ostrich  feathers,  of  different 
colours,  etc.  Spirit  of  Addison !  thou  pure  and  gentle  shade, 
arise !  thou,  who  with  such  fine  humour,  and  such  polished 
sarcasm,  didst  lash  the  cherry-coloured  hood,  and  the  party 
patches,  and  cut  down,  with  a  trenchant  sickle,  a  whole 
harvest  of  follies  and  absurdities  awake  !  for  the  follies 
thou  didst  lash  were  but  the  beginning  of  follies  ;  and  the 
absurdities  thou  didst  censure,  were  but  the  seeds  of 
absurdities  !  Oh,  that  thy  master-spirit,  speaking  and 
chiding  in  thy  graceful  page,  could  recall  the  blushes,  and 
collect  the  scattered  and  mutilated  remnants  of  female 
modesty ! 

HANNAH   MORE 

Letter  to  her  sister  (1776) 


FEW  BUT  FIT 


The  women  here  .  .  .  when  they  go  abroad,  though  they 
be  naked,  yet  they  are  laden  with  gold  and  precious  stones 
hanging  at  their  Ears,  Necks,  Legs,  Armes,  and  upon 
their  Breasts. 

JOHN   BULWER 

Anthropometamorphosis  :  or.  The  Artificial  Changeling 

(1650) 


COLLECTING 


SERPENTS'  EGGS 

In  Summer  time  yerely,  you  shall  see  an  infinit  number  of 
snakes,  gather  round  together  into  an  hoape,  entangled 
and  enwrapped  one  within  another  so  artificially,  as  I  am 
not  able  to  expresse  the  manner  thereof;  by  the  means 
therfore  of  the  froth  or  salivation  which  they  yeeld  from 
their  mouths  .  .  .  there  is  engendred  the  egg  aforesaid. 
The  priests  of  France  called  Druidae,  are  of  opinion,  and 
so  they  deliver  it,  that  these  serpents  when  they  have 
thus  engendred  this  egg,  do  cast  it  up  on  high  into  the 
aire,  by  the  force  of  their  hissing,  which  being  observed, 
there  must  be  one  ready  to  catch  and  receive  it  in  the  fall 
again  (before  it  touch  the  ground)  within  the  lappet  of  a 
coat  of  arms  or  soldiers  cassocks.  They  affirme  also  that 
the  party  who  carrieth  this  egg  away  had  need  to  be  wel 
mounted  upon  a  good  horse  and  to  ride  away  upon  the 
spur,  for  that  the  foresaid  serpents  will  pursue  him  still, 
and  never  give  over  until  they  meet  with  some  great  river 
between  him  and  them.  .  .  .  They  ad  moreover  and  say, 
that  the  onely  marke  to  know  the  egg  whether  it  be  right 
or  no,  is  this,  That  it  will  swim  aloft  above  the  water 
even  against  the  stream,  yea  though  it  were  bound  and 

"5 


enchased  in  a  plate  of  gold.  Over  and  besides,  these 
Druidae  ...  do  affirme,  That  there  must  be  a  certaine 
speciall  time  of  the  Moones  age  espied,  when  this  business 
is  to  be  gone  about.  PLINY 

Natural  History  (c.  77) 
Trans.  Philemon  Holland  (1601) 


BIRDS'  EGGS 

Next  morning  I  went  to  see  Sir  Thomas  Browne.  .  .  . 
His  whole  house  and  garden  being  a  paradise  and  cabinet  of 
rarities,  and  that  of  the  best  collection,  especially  medails, 
books,  plants,  and  natural  things.  Amongst  other  curios- 
ities, Sir  Thomas  had  a  collection  of  the  eggs  of  all  the 
foule  and  birds  he  could  procure,  that  country  (especialy 
the  promontory  of  Norfolck)  being  frequented,  as  he  said, 
by  severall  kinds  which  seldome  or  never  go  farther  into 
the  land,  as  cranes,  storkes,  eagles,  and  variety  of  water- 

JOHN   EVELYN 

Diary  (Oct.  17,  1671) 


BOOKS 

The  Bishop  [More,  of  Ely]  collected  his  library  by 
plundering  those  of  the  clergy  in  his  diocese ;  some  he 
paid  with  sermons  or  more  modern  books  ;  others,  less 
civilly,  only  with  a  quid  illiterati  cum  libris  ? 

RICHARD   GOUGH 

Anecdotes  of  British  Topography  (1768) 
116 


A  gentleman  calling  on  a  friend  who  had  a  very  choice 
library,  found  him  unusually  busy  in  putting  his  best 
books  out  of  sight :  upon  asking  his  view  in  this,  he  was 
answered.  Don't  you  know  the  Bishop  of  Ely  dines  with 
me  to-day  ? 

Ibid. 


For  this  is  my  mynde  this  one  pleasoure  have  I 
Of  bokes  to  have  grete  plenty  and  aparayle.  .  .  . 

Still  am  I  besy  bokes  assemblynge 
For  to  have  plenty  it  is  a  pleasaunt  thynge 
In  my  conceyt  and  to  have  them  ay  in  honde 
But  what  they  mene  do  I  nat  understonde. 

But  yet  I  have  them  in  great  reverence 

And  honoure  savynge  them  from  fylth  and  ordure 

By  often  brusshynge  and  moche  dylygence 

Full  goodly  bounde  in  pleasaunt  coverture 

Of  damas  satyn  or  else  of  velvet  pure. 

I  kepe  them  sure  ferynge  lyst  they  sholde  be  lost 

For  in  them  is  the  ccnnynge  wherin  I  me  bost. 

ALEXANDER  BARCLAY 

The  Shyp  of  Folys  (1509) 
(Trans,  from  Brandt) 


The  personal  dislike  which  Pope  Innocent  X  bore  to 
the  French  had  originated  in  his  youth,  when  a  cardinal, 
from  having  been  detected  in  the  library  of  an  eminent 
French  collector  of  having  purloined  a  most  rare  volume. 

117 


The  delirium  of  a  collector's  rage  overcame  even  French 
politesse ;  the  Frenchman  not  only  openly  accused  his 
illustrious  culprit,  but  was  resolved  that  he  should  not 
quit  the  library  without  replacing  the  precious  volume — 
from  accusation  and  denial  both  resolved  to  try  their 
strength  :  but  in  this  literary  wrestling-match  the  book 
dropped  out  of  the  cardinal's  robes — and  from  that  day 
he  hated  the  French.  ISAAC  DISRAELI 

Curiosities  of  Literature  (1791-1823) 


I  have  made  Mr  Bodley  acquainted  with  your  kinde 
and  friendly  offer,  who  accepteth  of  it  in  most  thankful 
manner  :  and  if  it  pleaseth  you  to  appoint  to-morrow  .  .  . 
wee  will  not  fayle  to  bee  with  you  at  your  house  for  that 
purpose.  And  remember  I  give  you  fay  re  warning  that 
if  you  hold  any  booke  so  deare  as  that  you  wold  be  loth 
to  have  him  out  of  your  sight,  gett  him  aside  beforehande  ; 
for  myne  owne  part,  I  will  not  doe  wronge  to  my  judge- 
ment as  to  chuse  of  the  worst,  if  bettere  bee  in  place.  And 
beside  you  wold  account  mee  a  simple  man.  .  .  . 

True  it  is  that  I  have  raysed  some  expectations  of  the 
quality  of  your  gift  in  Mr  Bodley,  whom  you  shall  find 
a  gentle  man,  in  all  respects  very  worthy  of  your  ac- 
quayntance.  SIR  HENRY  SAVILE 

Letter  to  Sir  Robert  Cotton  (c.  1600) 

NOTE.  As  an  example  of  the  garbling  methods  of  literary  anec- 
dotists,  it  is  instructive  to  compare  this  letter  with  the  account 
of  it  given  by  Isaac  Disraeli  in  Curiosities  of  Literature,  which  runs, 
cc  Sir  Robert  Saville  writing  to  Sir  Robert  Cotton,  appointing  an 
interview  with  the  founder  of  the  Bodleian  Library,  cautions  Sir 
Robert,  that ( If  he  held  any  book  so  dear  as  he  would  be  loath  to 
lose  it,  he  should  not  let  Sir  Thomas  out  of  his  sight)  but  set  "  the 
boke  "  aside  beforehand.'  " 

118 


MANUSCRIPTS 


One  of  the  Ptolemies  refused  supplying  the  famished 
Athenians  with  wheat,  until  they  presented  him  with 
the  original  manuscripts  of  Aiscylus,  Sophocles,  and 

-  ISAAC  DISRAELI 

Curiosities  of  Literature  (1792-1823) 


CONVERSATION 


CHAT 


In  various  talk  th'instructive  hours  they  past, 
Who  gave  the  ball,  or  paid  the  visit  last. 
One  speaks  the  glory  of  the  British  Queen, 
And  one  describes  a  charming  Indian  screen ; 
A  third  interprets  motions,  looks,  and  eyes  ; 
At  ev'ry  word  a  reputation  dies. 
Snuff,  or  the  fan,  supply  each  pause  of  chat, 
With  singing,  laughing,  ogling,  and  all  that. 

ALEXANDER   POPE 

The  Rape  of  the  Lock  (1712) 
119 


VERY  GOOD  DISCOURSE 

At  table  I  had  very  good  discourse  with  Mr  Ashmole, 
wherin  he  did  assure  me  that  frogs  and  many  insects  do 
often  fall  from  the  sky,  ready  formed.  SAMUEL  PEPYS 

Diary  (May  23,  1661) 


TOSSING  AND  GORING 

When  I  called  upon  Dr  Johnson  next  morning,  I  found 
him  highly  satisfied  with  his  colloquial  prowess  the 
preceding  evening.  "  Well  (said  he)  we  had  good  talk." 
BOSWELL  :  "  Yes,  Sir ;  you  tossed  and  gored  several 
persons.  JAMES  BOSWELL 

Life  of  Johnson  (1791) 


ABOUT  COWLEY 

BELINDA  :  Come,  Mr.  Sharper,  you  and  I  will  take  a  Turn, 
and  laugh  at  the  Vulgar — Both  the  great  Vulgar  and  the 
small — Oh  Gad  !  I  have  a  great  passion  for  Cowley — 
Don't  you  admire  him  ? 

SHARPER  :  Oh  Madam  !  He  was  our  English  Horace. 
BELINDA  :  Ah  so  fine  !  So  extreamly  fine  !  So  every  thing 
in  the  World  that  I  like — Oh  Lord,  walk  this  Way — I  see 
a  Couple,  I'll  give  you  their  History.    ^^  CONGREVE 

The  Old  Batchelor  (1693) 

120 


THE  WOMEN'S  COMPANY 

CARELESS  :  Where  are  the  Women  ?  I'm  weary  of  guzz- 
ling, and  begin  to  think  them  the  better  Company  ? 
MELLEFONT  :    Then  thy  Reason  staggers,  and   thou'rt 
almost  Drunk. 

CARELESS  :  No  Faith,  but  your  Fools  grow  noisie — and 
if  a  Man  must  endure  the  Noise  of  Words  without  Sense, 
I  think  the  Women  have  more  Musical  Voices,  and 
become  Nonsense  better. 

MELLEFONT  :  Why,  they  are  at  the  end  of  the  Gallery  ; 
retir'd  to  their  Tea  and  Scandal ;  acording  to  their 
Ancient  Custom  after  Dinner. 

WILLIAM  CONGREVE 

The  Double-Dealer  (1693) 


IMPROVING  THE  MIND 

If  you  are  in  company  with  Men  of  learning,  though  they 
happen  to  discourse  of  Arts  and  Sciences  out  of  your  com- 
pass, yet  you  will  gather  more  advantage  by  list'ning  to 
them  than  from  all  the  nonsense  and  frippery  of  your  own 
Sex  ;  but,  if  they  be  Men  of  Breeding  as  well  as  Learning, 
they  will  seldom  engage  in  any  Conversation  where  you 
ought  not  to  be  a  hearer,  and  in  time  have  your  part.  If  they 
talk  of  the  Manners  and  Customs  of  the  several  Kingdoms 
of  Europe,  of  Travels  into  remoter  Nations,  of  the  state  of 
their  own  Country,  or  of  the  great  Men  and  Actions  of 
Greece  and  Rome ;  if  they  give  their  judgment  upon  English 
and  French  Writers,  either  in  Verse  or  Prose,  or  of  the 

121 


nature  and  limits  of  Virtue  and  Vice,  it  is  a  shame  for  an 
English  Lady  not  to  relish  such  Discourses,  not  to  improve 
by  them,  and  endeavour  by  Reading  and  Information,  to 
have  her  share  in  those  Entertainments  ;  rather  than  turn 
aside,  as  it  is  the  usual  custom,  and  consult  with  the 
Woman  who  sits  next  her,  about  a  new  Cargo  of  Fans. 

JONATHAN   SWIFT 

Letter  to  a  Young  Lady  (1727) 


EDUCATED  TALK 


One  of  the  greatest  pleasures  of  life  is  conversation ; — 
and  the  pleasures  of  conversation  are  of  course  enhanced  by 
every  increase  of  knowledge  :  not  that  we  should  meet 
together  to  talk  of  alkalis  and  angles,  or  to  add  to  our  stock 
of  history  and  philology, — though  a  little  of  these  tilings  is 
no  bad  thing  in  conversation  ;  but  let  the  subject  be  what 
it  may,  there  is  always  a  prodigious  difference  between 
the  conversation  of  those  who  have  been  well  educated  and 
of  those  who  have  not  enjoyed  this  advantage.  Education 
gives  fecundity  of  thought,  copiousness  of  illustration, 
quickness,  vigour,  fancy,  words,  images  and  illustrations ; — 
it  decorates  every  common  thing,  and  gives  the  power  of 
trifling  without  being  undignified  and  absurd.  .  .  .  Now, 
really,  nothing  can  be  further  from  our  intention  than  to 
say  anything  rude  and  unpleasant;  but  we  must  be  excused 
from  observing,  that  it  is  not  now  a  very  common  thing 
to  be  interested  by  the  variety  and  extent  of  female  know- 
ledge. 

SYDNEY  SMITH 

Female  Education  (1809) 
122 


TEDIOUS 

If  they  have  a  story  to  relate,  they  must  needs  make  its 
beginning  rise  with  the  Beginning  of  the  World,  and  they 
dwell  so  long  upon  frivolous  circumstances  that  they  are 
insensibly  drawne  to  other  matters,  into  which  they  hop 
like  birds  from  branch  to  branch,  and  sometimes  in  the 
very  middle  of  their  relation  they  wander  so  far  from  the 
Subject  they  had  in  Hand,  that  they  are  forc'd  to  seek 
about  for  it  againe,  as  the  young  lad  did  for  his  Fathers 
Asses. 

J.  B. 
Heroick  Education  (1657) 


How  TO  CONVERSE 

I  have  passed,  perhaps,  more  time  than  any  other  man  of 
my  age  and  country  in  visits  and  assemblies,  where  the 
polite  persons  of  both  sexes  distinguish  themselves  ;  and 
could  not  without  much  grief  observe  how  frequently  both 
gentlemen  and  ladies  are  at  a  loss  for  questions,  answers 
replies  and  rejoinders.  .  .  .  How  often  do  we  see  at  Court, 
at  publick  visiting-days,  at  great  men's  levees,  and  other 
places  of  general  meeting  that  the  conversation  falls  and 
drops  to  nothing,  like  a  fire  without  supply  of  fuel.  This 
is  what  we  all  ought  to  lament ;  and  against  this  dangerous 
evil  I  take  upon  me  to  affirm,  that  I  have,  in  the  follow- 
ing papers,  provided  an  infallible  remedy.  .  .  . 

The  curious  reader  will  observe,  that,  when  conversa- 
tion appears  in  danger  to  flag  ...  I  took  care  to  invent 
some  sudden  question,  or  turn  of  wit  to  revive  it ;  such  as 

123 


these  that  follow  :  "  What  ?  I  think  here's  a  silent  meeting  ! 
Come,  Madam,  a  penny  for  your  thought  "  ;  with  several 

others  of  the  like  sort 

When  this  happy  art  of  polite  conversing  shall  be 
thoroughly  improved,  good  company  will  be  no  longer 
pestered  with  dull,  dry,  tedious  story-tellers,  nor  brangling 
disputers  ;  for  a  right  scholar  of  either  sex  in  our  science 
will  perpetually  interrupt  them  with  some  sudden  sur- 
prising piece  of  wit,  that  shall  engage  all  the  company  in  a 
loud  laugh ;  and  if,  after  a  pause,  the  grave  companion 
resumes  his  thread  in  the  following  manner,  "  Well,  but 
to  go  on  with  my  story,"  new  interruptions  come  from  the 
left  and  right,  till  he  is  forced  to  give  over. 

JONATHAN  SWIFT 

Introduction  to  A  Compleat  Collection  of  Genteel  and 
Ingenious  Conversation  (1738) 


AT  THE  TEA-TABLE 

Lady  Smarfs  antichamber.  Miss  Notable  comes  in. 

MR.  NEVEROUT  :  Miss,  your  slave  :  I  hope  your  early 
rising  will  do  you  no  harm.  I  find  you  are  but  just  come 
out  of  the  cloth  market. 

Miss  :  I  always  rise  at  eleven,  whether  it  be  day  or  no. 
COL.  ATWITT  :  Miss,  I  hope  you  are  up  for  all  day. 
Miss  :  Yes,  if  I  don't  get  a  fall  before  night. 
COL.  :  Miss,  I  heard  you  were  out  of  order ;  pray,  how 
are  you  now  ? 

Miss  :  Pretty  well,  Colonel,  I  thank  you. 
COL.  :  Pretty  and  well,  miss !  that's  two  very  good  things . . . 

124 


Miss  (to  LADY  SMART)  :  Pray,  Madam,  give  me  some 
more  sugar  to  my  tea. 

COL.  :  Oh !    Miss,    you    must    needs    be    very    good- 
humour'd,  you  love  sweet  things  so  well. 
NEVEROUT  :  Stir  it  up  with  the  spoon,  miss  ;  for  the 
deeper  the  sweeter. 

LADY  SMART  :  I  assure  you,  Miss,  the  Colonel  has  made 
you  a  great  compliment. 

Miss  :  I  am  sorry  for  it ;  for  I  have  heard  say,  compli- 
menting is  lying.  .  .  . 

LADY  SMART  :  Lord,  miss,  how  can  you  drink  your  tea 
so  hot  ?  sure  your  mouth's  paved.  How  do  you  like  this 
tea,  colonel  ? 

COL.  :  Well  enough,  madam ;  but  methinks  it  is  a  little 
more-ish. 

LADY   SMART  :  Oh  colonel  !   I  understand  you.   Betty, 
bring  the  canister  ;  I  have  very  little  of  this  tea  left ;  but  I 
don't  love  to  make  two  wants  of  one  ;  want  when  I  have  it, 
and  want  when  I  have  it  not.  He,  he,  he,  he. 
LADY  ANSWERALL  (to  the  MAID)  :  Why,  sure,  Betty,  you 
are  bewitched,  the  cream  is  burnt  too. 
BETTY  :  Why,  madam,  the  bishop  has  set  his  foot  in  it. 
LADY  SMART  :  Go,  run,  girl,  and  warm  fresh  cream. 
BETTY  :  Indeed,  madam,  there's  none  left ;  for  the  cat 
has  eaten  it  all. 

LADY  SMART  :  I  doubt  it  was  a  cat  with  two  legs.  .  .  . 
COL.  :  Miss,  when  will  you  be  married  ? 
Miss  :  One  of  these  odd-come-shortly's,  colonel. 
NEVEROUT  :  Yes  ;  they  say  the  match  is  half  made,  the 
spark  is  willing,  but  miss  is  not. 

Miss  :  I  suppose  the  gentleman  has  got  his  own  consent 
for  it. 

125 


LADY  A. :  Pray,  my  Lord,  did  you  walk  through  the 
Park  in  the  rain  ? 

LORD  SPARKISH  :  Yes,  madam,  we  were  neither  sugar  nor 
salt,  we  were  not  afraid  the  rain  would  melt  us.  He,  he,  he. 
COL.  :  It  rain'd,  and  the  sun  shone  at  the  same  time.  .  .  . 
LADY  S.  :  Miss,  dear  girl,  fill  me  out  a  dish  of  tea,  for  I'm 
very  lazy. 

MlSS  fills  a  dish  of  tea.,  sweetens  it,  and  tastes  it. 
LADY  S.  :  What,  miss,  will  you  be  my  taster  ? 
Miss  :  No,  madam  ;  but  they  say  it's  an  ill  cook  that  can't 
lick  her  own  fingers. 
NEV.  :  Pray,  miss,  fill  me  another. 
Miss  :  Will  you  have  it  now,  or  stay  till  you  get  it  ? 

LADY  A.  :  But,  colonel,  they  say  you  went  to  court  last 
night  very  drunk  :  nay,  I'm  told  for  certain,  you  had  been 
among  the  Philistines  :  no  wonder  the  cat  winked  when 
both  her  eyes  were  out. 

COL.  :  Indeed,  madam,  that's  a  lye. 

LADY  A.  :  Tis  better  I  should  lye  than  you  should  lose 
your  good  manners  besides,  I  don't  lie,  I  sit.  .  .  . 

LADY  S.  :  Well,  I  fear  Lady  Answerall  can't  live  long, 

she  has  so  much  wit.  .  .  . 

Miss  :  But  pray,  Mr  Neverout,  what  lady  was  that  you 

were  talking  with  in  the  side-box  last  Tuesday  ? 

NEV.  :  Miss,  can  you  keep  a  secret  ? 

Miss  :  Yes,  I  can. 

NEV.  :  Well,  miss,  and  so  can  I. 

JONATHAN   SWIFT 

A  Compleat  Collection  of  Genteel  and  Ingenious 

Conversation  (1738) 
126 


CONVERSION 


To  THE  CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND 

It  is  honorable,  both  for  that  by  this  meanes  infinite 
nombers  of  soules  may  be  brought  from  theyr  idolatry, 
bloody  sacrifices,  ignoraimce  and  incivility,  to  the  wor- 
shipping of  the  true  God  aright  to  civill  conversation,  and 
also  theyr  bodyes  freed  from  the  intollerable  tirrany  of 
the  Spaniards  whereunto  they  are  already  or  likely  in 
shorte  space  to  be  subjected,  unlesse  her  excellent 
Majestic  or  some  other  Christian  prince  doe  speedily 
assiste,  and  afterward  protect  them  in  their  just  defensive 
wars  against  the  violence  of  usurpers.  .  .  . 

Likewise  it  is  profitable,  for  heereby  the  Queens 
dominions  may  bee  exceedingly  enlarged,  and  this  Realme 
inestimably  enriched,  with  pretious  stones,  gold,  silver, 
pearle,  and  other  commodityes  which  those  countryes 
yeald,  and  (God  giving  good  successe  to  the  voiage)  an 
entrance  made  thereby  to  many  other  Empyres  (which 
happily  may  prove  as  rich  as  this)  and  it  may  bee  to  Peru 
its  selfe  and  other  Kingdomes  of  which  the  Spaniards  bee 
now  possessed.  .  .  . 

To  be  shorte,  all  sound  Christians  ...  do  repute  the 
Kings  of  Castile  and  Portugall  meere  usurpers  in  Africke 
and  America.  .  .  .  Christians  may  not  warrantably  con- 
quer Infidells  upon  pretence  only  of  their  infidelity.  But  I 

127 


hould  it  very  reasonable  and  charitable  to  send  preachers 
safely  guarded  if  need  bee,  to  offer  Infidells  the  gladd 
tidings  of  the  Gospell. .  .  . 

The  condicions  to  be  required  of  them  are  these.  First 
to  renounce  their  Idolatry,  and  to  worship  the  only  true 
God 

2.  That  the  Inga  of  Manoa  .  .  .  surrender  the  ensignes 
of  his  Empire  to  her  Majestic.  .  .  .  Also  her  Majesties 
Lieuetenantes  to  direct  the  Guianians  in  their  conclusions 
both  of  warr  and  peace  :  Rendring  yearly  to  Her  Majestic 
and  her  successors  a  great  tribute  allotting  to  her  use 
some  rich  mines  and  rivers  of  gold,  pearle,  silver,  rocks  of 
pretious  stone,  etc.  with  some  large  fruitfull  countryes  for 
the  planting  of  her  Colonyes.  .  .  . 

Wee  may  make  choise  to  arme  and  instructe  such  of 
them  as  we  find  most  trusty  and  most  prone  to  Christianity, 
reserving  the  powder  and  shott  in  our  own  custody.  .  .  . 

Besids  this  easy  and  compendious  way  of  possessing 
Guiana  by  arming  the  inhabitants,  there  is  speciall  choise 
to  be  had  in  sending  preachers  of  good  discrecion  and 
behavior  for  their  conversion.  SJR  WALTER  RALEIGH 

Of  the  Voyage  for  Guiana  (c.  1598) 


He  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  renounced  "  the  errors  of 
Popery  "...  he  said,  "  I  cannot  be  a  good  Catholic ;  I 
cannot  go  to  Heaven ;  and  if  a  man  is  to  go  to  the  devil,  he 
may  as  well  go  thither  from  the  House  of  Lords  as  from 
any  other  place  on  earth." 

When  he  qualified  for  some  office,  perhaps  that  of  Lord 
Lieutenant  of  the  county — of  Gloucester,  I  think — which 
qualification  consists  in  receiving  the  Lord's  Supper 

128 


according  to  the  rite  of  the  Church  of  England,  he  returned 
the  cup  out  of  which  he  drank  the  sacramental  wine, 

saying  in  hardly  an  under  voice,  "  Port,  by  G ! "  What 

does  the  Church  of  England  gain  by  conversions  such  as 
these  ? 

H.    D.    BEST 

Personal  and  Literary  Memorials  (1829) 


To  PRESBYTERIANISM 

Yesterday  I  went 

To  see  a  lady  that  has  a  parrott ;  my  woman 
While  I  was  in  discourse,  converted  the  fowle, 
And  now  it  can  speak  naught  but  Knox's  words  ; 
So  there's  a  parrot  lost. 

JASPER  MAYNE 

The  City  Match  (1639) 


To  ROMAN  CATHOLICISM 

In  the  river  of  Palo  otherwise  called  Orinoque,  in  the 
principall  part  thereof  called  Warismero,  the  23  of  Aprill 
1593,  Domingo  de  Vcra  Master  of  the  Campe  and  .  .  . 
Captaine  generall  for  our  Lorde  the  King  .  .  .  commanded 
all  the  soldiers  to  be  drawne  together  and  put  in  order  of 
battaile,  the  Captaines  and  soldiers  and  master  of  the 
campe  standing  in  the  middest  of  them,  said  unto  them  : 
Sirs,  Soldiers  and  Captaines,  you  understand  long  since  that 
our  Generall  Anth.  de  Berreo,  with  the  travell  of  1 1  yeares, 
EP  129 


and  expence  of  more  than  100000  pesoes  of  Gold.,  dis- 
covered the  noble  provinces  of  Guiana  and  Dorado  :  On 
the  which  he  tooke  possession  to  governe  the  same.  .  .  . 
Now  they  had  sente  me  to  learne  out  and  discover  the  ways 
most  easily  to  enter  and  to  people  the  saide  provinces,  and 
where  the  Campes  and  Armies  may  best  enter  the  same. 
By  reason  whereof  I  entend  to  do  so  in  the  name  of  his 
Majesty,  and  the  said  governour  Antho.  de  Berreo,  and  in 
token  thereof  I  require  you,  Fran.  Carillo,  that  you  aide 
me  to  advance  this  crosse  that  lieth  here  on  the  ground, 
which  they  set  on  end  towardes  the  east,  and  the  said 
Master  of  the  Campe,  the  Captains  and  soldiers  kneeled 
down  and  did  due  reverence  unto  the  said  crosse,  and 
thereupon  the  Master  of  the  Campe  . . .  drew  out  his  sworde 
and  cut  the  grasse  of  the  ground,  and  the  boughs  of  the 
trees,  saying,  I  take  this  possession  in  the  name  of  Don 
Philip  our  master,  and  of  his  governour  Antho :  de  Berrco . . . 
And  the  said  Master  of  the  Campe  kneeled  downe  .  .  .  and 
all  the  Captaines  and  soldiers  saide  that  the  possession  was 
wel  taken,  and  that  they  would  defend  it  with  their  lives, 
upon  whosoever  would  say  the  contrary.  .  .  .  And  in 
prosecution  of  the  said  possession  .  .  .  the  Master  of  the 
Camp  entered  by  little  and  little,  with  all  the  Campe  and 
men  of  warre,  more  then  two  leagues  into  the  Inland,  and 
came  to  a  towne  of  a  Principall,  and  conferring  with  him 
did  let  him  understand  .  .  .  that  his  Majesty  .  .  .  had  sent 
him  to  take  the  said  possession.  And  the  said  fryer  Francis 
Carillo  by  the  Interpreter  delivered  him  certain  thingcs 
of  our  holy  Catholique  faith,  to  al  which  he  answered,  that 
they  understood  him  well  and  would  becom  Christians, 
and  that  with  a  very  good  wil  they  should  advance  the 
crosse,  in  what  part  or  place  of  the  towne  it  pleased  them, 
for  he  was  for  the  governour  Anth  :  de  Berreo,  who  was 

130 


his  Master.  Thereupon  the  said  master  of  the  Campe 
tooke  a  great  crosse,  and  set  it  on  ende  toward  the  east, 
and  requested  the  whole  Campe  to  witnesse  it. 

RODRIGO  DE  CARANCA,  Register  of  the  Army 

Report  to  King  of  Spain  of  the  discovery  of  Nuevo 

Dorado.  Taken  at  sea  by  Captain  Popham  and  trans. 

by  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  (1594) 


To  CHRISTIANITY 


For  when  the  Saxons  first  receaved  the  Christian  Faith, 
Paidinus  of  old  Yorke,  the  zealous  Bishop  then, 
In  Swales  abundant  streame  Christned  ten  thousand  men, 
With  women  and  their  babes,  a  number  more  beside. 
Upon  one  happy  day,  whereof  shee  boasts  with  pride. 

MICHAEL   DRAYTON 

Poly-Olbion.  Song  XXVIII 


To  AND  FRO 

Upon  the  dissolution  of  the  abbeys,  he  [Henry  VIII] 
gave  him  the  abbey  of  Wilton,  and  a  country  of  lands 
and  mannours  therabout  belonging  to  it.  ... 

In  queen  Mary's  time,  upon  the  returne  of  the  Catho- 
lique  religion,  the  nunnes  came  again  to  Wilton  abbey, 
and  this  William,  earl  of  Pembroke  came  to  the  gate  .  .  . 
with  his  cappe  in  his  hand,  and  fell  upon  his  knee  to  the 
lady  abbesse  and  the  nunnes,  crying  peccavi.  Upon  queen 

131 


Mary's  death  the  earle  came  to  Wilton  (like  a  tygre)  and 
turned  them  out,  crying,  "  Out,  ye  whores,  to  worke,  to 
worke,  ye  whores,  goe  spinne." 

JOHN   AUBREY 

Brief  Lives  :  William  Herbert,  1st  earle  of  Pembroke 

(c.  1680) 


TO   ROYALISM 

The  day  of  restoration  of  K.Ch.2  observed.  .  .  .  They 
were  freed  from  the  chaines  of  darkness  and  confusion 
which  the  presbyterians  and  phanaticks  had  brought  upon 
them  .  .  .  some  of  them  seeing  what  mischiefe  they  had 
done,  tack'd  about  to  participate  of  the  universal  joy,  and 
at  length  clos'd  with  the  royal  partie. 

ANTHONY   WOOD 

Life  and  Times  (1660) 
To  ORANGERY 

O  falsnes  !  He  that  ran  with  the  humour  of  King  James  II 
now  forsakes  him,  to  cring  to  prince  of  Orange  in  hopes 
to  keep  his  bishoprick. 

Ibid. 

(1689) 
To  HOLY  ORDERS 

Such  strifes  as  these  S.  Augustine  had,  when  S.  Ambrose 
indeavoured  his  conversion  to  Christianity, . . .  Our  learned 
Author  ...  did  the  like.  And  declaring  his  intention  to 

132 


his  deare  friend  D.  King,  the  then  worthy  Bishop  of 
London  .  .  .  That  Reverend  Bishop  most  gladly  received 
the  news ;  and,  with  all  convenient  speed  ordained  him 
Deacon  and  Priest. 

Now  the  English  Church  had  gained  a  second  S. 
Augustine,  for  I  think  none  was  so  like  him  before  his 
conversion  :  none  so  like  S.  Ambrose  after  it.  And  if  his 
youth  had  the  infirmities  of  the  one  Father,  his  age  had 
the  excellencies  of  the  other,  the  learning  and  holiness  of 
both. 

Now  all  his  studies  (which  were  occasionally  diffused) 
were  concentred  in  Divinity.  Now  he  had  a  new  calling, 
new  thoughts,  and  a  new  employment  for  his  wit  and 
eloquence.  Now  all  his  earthly  affections  were  changed 
into  divine  love,  and  all  the  faculties  of  his  soule  were 
ingaged  in  the  conversion  of  others.  .  .  . 

Presently  after  he  enterd  into  his  holy  Profession,  the 
King  made  him  his  Chaplaine  in  ordinary,  and  gave  him 
other  incouragements,  promising  to  take  a  particular 
care  of  him. 

IZAAK   WALTON 

Life  of  Dr.  John  Donne  (1640) 


To  SCORN  OF  MONEY 

Who  could  imagine  that  Diogenes  in  his  yonger  dayes 
should  bee  a  falsifier  of  mony  who  in  the  after-course  of 
his  life  was  so  great  a  contemner  of  metall,  as  to  laugh  at 
all  that  loved  it.  Butt  men  are  not  the  same  in  all  divisions 
of  their  ages. 

SIR   THOMAS   BROWNE 

Notes  from  Commonplace  Books  (Undated) 
133 


To  VIRTUE 

Dr Twiss,  .  .  .  told  me,  that  his  father  (Dr  Twiss, 

polocutor  of  the  Assembly  of  Divines,  and  Author  of  Vin- 
diciae]  when  he  was  a  school-boy  at  Winchester,  saw  the 
phantome  of  a  Scool-fellow  of  his,  deceased,  (a  rake-hell) 
who  said  to  him,  "  /  am  damned"  This  was  the  occasion 
of  Dr  Twiss's  (the  father's)  Conversion,  who  had  been 
before  that  time,  as  he  told  his  Son,  a  very  wicked  Boy, 
he  was  hypochondriacal.  There  is  a  Story  like  this,  of  the 
Conversion  of  St  Bruno,  by  an  Apparition  :  upon  which 
he  became  mighty  devout,  and  founded  the  Order  of  the 
Carthusians.  JOHN  AUBREY 

Miscellanies  (1696) 

To  A  STATE  OF  GRACE 

But  about  the  I4th  Year  of  his  Age,  being  under  some 
more  than  usual  Convictions  of  Sin,  after  his  having 
robb'd  a  Neighbour's  Orchard,  it  pleas'd  God  he  met 
with  Parsons  Of  Resolution,  (as  Corrected  by  Bunny)  in 
the  reading  of  which  such  Impressions  were  made  upon 
his  Spirit,  as  never  wore  off  to  the  Day  of  his  Death. 
...  He  had  often  formerly  had  tho'ts  of  this  kind  Stirring 
in  his  Mind,  but  now  they  came  in  another  manner,  with 
Sense  and  Power  and  Seriousness  to  his  Heart.  This  cast 
him  into  Fears  about  his  Condition,  and  they  drove  him 
to  Cordial  Contrition,  Confession,  and  Prayer ;  and 
issu'd  in  a  serious  Resolution  of  altering  his  Course. 
Meeting  afterwards  with  Dr.  Sibb's  Bruised  Reed,  .  .  . 
by  the  reading  also  of  Mr.  Perkins  of  Repentance.,  .  .  . 
and  some  other  of  his  Treatises,  he  was  further  inform'd 

134 


and  confirmed.  .  .  .  The  reading  of  Mr.  Ezek.  Culverwel 
Of  Faith  at  this  time  gave  him  much  Relief.  .  .  . 

Upon  further  search.,  he  found  that  the  first  Degree  of 
Special  Grace  was  usually  very  small,  and  therefore  not 
easily  distinguishable  in  the  season  of  its  first  Prevalence 
from  Preparatory  Grace  :  .  .  .  But  that  which  most  per- 
plex'd  him,  and  which  created  him  the  Greatest  Difficulty, 
was  the  finding  himself  Guilty  of  known  and  deliberate 
Sin,  after  that  he  had  tho't  himself  Converted  :  This  he 
for  a  long  time  could  not  tell  how  to  Reconcile  with  true 
Grace.  Every  known  Sin  he  committed,  in  this  respect, 
renew'd  his  Doubt.  .  .  . 

It  much  encreas'd  his  Peace  to  find  others  in  the  like 
Condition  :  He  found  his  Case  had  nothing  Singular. 

EDMUND   CALAMY 

Life  of  Richard  Baxter  (1702) 


To  QUAKERISM 

Mrs  Knowles  mentioned,  as  a  proselyte  to  Quakerism, 
a  young  lady  well  known  to  Dr  Johnson  .  .  .  JOHNSON 
(frowning  very  angrily) :  "  Madam,  she  is  an  odious 
wench.  She  could  not  have  any  proper  conviction  that  it 
was  her  duty  to  change  her  religion.  .  .  .  She  knew  no  more 
of  the  Church  which  she  left,  and  that  which  she  em- 
braced, than  she  did  of  the  difference  between  the  Co- 
pernican  and  Ptolemaic  systems."  MRS  KNOWLES:  "  She 
had  the  New  Testament  before  her."  JOHNSON  :  "  Madam, 
she  could  not  understand  the  New  Testament." 

JAMES  BOSWELL 

Life  of  Johnson  (1791) 
135 


CORRESPONDENCE 


A  USE  FOR  LETTERS 


MRS  FAINALL  :  You  were  dress'd  before  I  came  abroad. 

MILLAMANT  :  Ay,  that's  true O  but  then  I  had — 

Mincing.,  what  had  I  ?  Why  was  I  so  long  ? 

MINCING  :  O  Mem,  your  Laship  staid  to  peruse  a  Pacquet 
of  Letters. 

MILL.  :  O  ay.  Letters — I  had  Letters — I  am  persecuted 

with  Letters — I  hate  Letters No  Body  knows  how 

to  write  Letters  ;  and  yet  one  has  'em,  one  does  not  know 
why They  serve  one  to  pin  up  one's  Hair. 

WITWOUD  :  Is  that  the  way  ?  Pray,  Madam,  do  you  pin 
up  your  Hair  with  all  your  Letters  ?  I  find  I  must  keep 
Copies. 

MILL.  :  Only  with  those  in  Verse,  Mr  Witwoud.  I  never 
pin  up  my  Hair  with  Prose.  I  think  I  try'd  once,  Mincing. 

MINCING  :  O  Mem,  I  shall  never  forget  it. 

MILL.  :  Ay,  poor  Mincing  tift  and  tift  all  the  Morning. 

MINCING  :  Till  I  had  the  Cramp  in  my  Fingers,  I'll  vow, 
Mem.  And  all  to  no  purpose.  But  when  your  Laship  pins 


it  up  with  Poetry,  it  sits  so  pleasant  the  next  Day  as  any 

Thing,  and  is  so  pure  and  so  crips. 

WITWOUD  :  Indeed,  so  crips  ? 

MINCING  :  You're  such  a  Critick,  Mr  Witwoud. 

WILLIAM   CONGREVE 
The  Way  of  the  World  (1700) 


ANOTHER  USE 

The  manuscripts  of  Pope's   version    of  the   Iliad   and 
Odyssey  .  .  .  are  written  chiefly  on  the  backs  of  letters. 

ISAAC    DISRAELI 

Curiosities  of  Literature  (1792-1823) 


To  AN  EXACTING  CORRESPONDENT 

Well,  my  dear,  what's  the  matter  with  you,  that  you  cr> 
out  like  an  eagle  ?  Pray  wait  to  judge  me  until  you  are 
here.  What  is  there  so  dreadful  in  the  words,  "  my  days 
are  full  "  ?  When  I  have  been  gadding  abroad  and  get 
home,  I  find  there  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld,  whom  I 
haven't  seen  all  day  :  can  I  write  ?  M.  de  la  Rochfoucauld 
and  M.  Gonville  are  here  :  can  I  write  ?  But  when  they 
have  gone  ?  Ah,  when  they  have  gone,  it's  eleven  o'clock, 
and  I  go  out  myself ;  I  am  sleeping  at  my  neighbour  be- 
cause building  is  going  on  in  front  of  my  windows.  But 
the  afternoon  ?  I  have  a  headache  then.  The  morning  ? 
A  headache  again,  and  I  take  a  herb  broth  which  makes  me 

137 


drunk.  You  are  in  Provence,  my  dear  :  your  time  is  clear, 
and  your  head  still  more  so  ;  the  lust  to  write  to  everyone 
presses  on  you  ;  from  me  it's  gone  ;  and  if  I  had  a  lover 
who  wanted  letters  from  me  every  morning,  I  should 
break  with  him.  Don't,  then,  measure  our  friendship  by 
letters  ;  I  should  love  you  as  much,  only  writing  you  a 
page  in  a  month,  as  you  love  me  writing  ten  a  week.  When 
I  am  at  Saint-Maur,  I  can  write,  because  I  have  more 
head  and  more  leisure,  but  .  .  .  Paris  kills  me. 

MADAME   DE   LA   FAYETTE 

Letter  to  Madame  de  Sevigne  (1673)  (Trans.) 


MORE  WELCOME  THAN  A  DIAMOND 


I  have  expected  your  letter  all  this  day  with  the  greatest 
impatience  that  was  posible,  and  at  last  resolved  to  goe  out 
and  meet  the  fellow,  and  when  I  came  downe  to  the 
Stables,  I  found  him  come,  had  sett  up  his  horse,  and  was 
sweeping  the  Stable  in  great  Order.  I  could  not  imagin  him 
so  very  a  beast  as  to  think  his  horses  were  to  bee  served  be- 
fore mee,  and  therfor  was  presently  struck  with  an  appre- 
hension hee  had  no  letter  for  mee,  it  went  Colde  to  my 
heart  as  Ice,  and  hardly  left  mee  courage  enough  to  aske 
him  the  question,  but  when  hee  had  drawled  it  out  that 
hee  thought  there  was  a  letter  for  mee  in  his  bag  I  quickly 
made  him  leave  his  broome.  Twas  well  tis  a  dull  fellow, 
hee  could  not  but  have  discern'd  else  that  I  was  strangely 
overjoyed  with  it,  and  Earnest  to  have  it,  for  though  the 
poor  fellow  made  what  hast  hee  coulde  to  unty  his  bag, 
I  did  nothing  but  chide  him  for  being  soe  slow.  At  Last 


I  had  it,  and  in  Earnest  I  know  not  whither  an  intire  dia- 
mond of  the  bignesse  on't  would  have  pleased  mee  half 
soe  well. 

DOROTHY   OSBORNE 

Letter  to  Sir  William  Temple  (1653) 


CARRIED  BY  BIRDS 

think  'tis  not  to  be  doubted  that  Swallowes  have  been 
taught  to  carry  Letters  betwixt  two  Armies.  But  'tis  cer- 
tain that  when  the  Turks  besieged  Malta  or  Rodes  (I  now 
remember  not  which  'twas)  Pigeons  are  then  related  to 
carry  and  recarry  Letters.  And  Mr  G.  Sander  in  his 
Travels  (fol.  269)  relates  it  to  bee  done  be  twist  Aleppo  and 
Babylon. 

IZAAK    WALTON 

The  Compleat  Angler  (1653) 


Too  ARDENT 

I  have  moreover  read  your  letter.  For  it  I  do  not  thank 
you.  It  afforded  me  neither  pleasure  nor  amusement.  In- 
deed, my  Friend,  this  Letter  of  yours  has,  to  my  mind, 
more  than  one  fault.  I  do  not  allude  to  its  being  egotistical. 
To  speak  of  onself  is,  they  say,  a  privilege  of  Friendship. 
.  .  .  There  is  about  your  Letter  a  mystery  which  I  detest. 
It  is  so  full  of  meaning  words  underlined,  meaning  sen- 
tences half  finished  ;  meaning  blanks  with  notes  of  admira- 
tion; and  meaning  quotations  from  foreign  languages,  that 

139 


really  in  this  abundance  of  meaning  ...  I  am  somewhat 
at  a  loss  to  discover  what  you  would  be  at.  I  know  how 
you  will  excuse  yourself  on  this  score  :  you  will  say  that 
you  knew  my  Mother  would  see  your  Letter;  and  that,  of 
course,  you  cared  not  what  difficulties  I  as  Interpreter 
might  be  subjected,  so  that  you  got  your  feelings  towards 
me  expressed.  Now,  Sir,  once  for  all,  I  beg  you  to  under- 
stand that  I  dislike  as  much  as  my  Mother  disapproves 
your  somewhat  too  ardent  expressions  of  friendship  to- 
wards me  ;  and  that  if  you  cannot  write  to  me  as  to  a  man 
who  feels  a  deep  interest  in  your  welfare,  who  admires 
your  talents,  respects  your  virtues,  and  for  the  sake  of  these 
has  often — perhaps  too  often — overlooked  your  faults  ; — 
if  you  cannot  write  to  me  as  if — as  if  you  were  married, 
you  need  never  waste  ink  or  paper  on  me  more. 

JANE   WELSH 

Letter  to  Thomas  Carlyle  (1822) 


COURTESY 


THE  MASTER 

I  wish  further  that  he  carie  himselfe  pleasant  and  courte- 
ous unto  his  folke,  not  commanding  them  any  thing  in  his 
choler.  Boisterous  and  rough  handling  will  prevaile  as 
little  with  men,  as  with  stiffenecked  jades.  Let  him  speake 

140 


familiarly  unto  them,  let  him  laugh  and  jest  with  them 
sometimes,  and  also  either  give  them  occasion,  or  else 
suffer  them  to  laugh  and  be  merrie.  For  their  uncessant 
paines  are  somewhat  mitigated,  when  they  are  vouchsafed 
some  gentle  and  courteous  intreatance  of  their  maister 
towards  them. 

Notwithstanding  I  wish  him  not  to  be  too  familiar  with 
them  for  the  avoiding  of  contempt.  Neither  would  I  have 
him  to  acquainte  them  with  his  purposes,  except  it  be 
sometimes  to  aske  their  counsell  in  a  matter,  and  let  him 
not  spare  sometimes  to  seeme  to  doe  after  their  advise, 
though  he  had  determined  the  same  course  before  :  for 
they  will  worke  with  more  cheerfulness,  when  they  thinke 
that  the  matter  is  caried  according  to  their  invention.  .  .  . 

Let  him  patiently  and  quietly  beare  their  tedious  and 
troublesome  natures,  whom  he  knoweth  to  envie  and 
repine  at  him,  never  falling  out  with  them,  or  giving  them 
any  just  occasion  of  displeasure  :  but  winking  at  that  ever 
which  he  knoweth  of  their  nature  and  naturall  inclination, 
let  him  pleasure  them  to  the  utmost  that  he  can,  and  seeme 
to  be  at  one  with  them.  .  .  .  And  thus  he  may  purchase 
rest  and  peace. 

CHARLES   ESTIENNE 

La  Maison  Rustique  (1572) 
Trans.  Richard  Surflet  (1600) 


THANKS  FOR  A  BOOK 

Worthy  Sir, 

I  have  receaved  ...  the  booke  of  Sir  George  Ent  of  the 
Use  of  Respiration.  It  is  a  very  learned  and  ingeniose 

141 


tooke  full  of  true  and  deepe  philosophy.  I  pray  you  to  pre- 
sent unto  him  my  most  humble  service.  Though  I  recieved 
it  but  three  dayes  since,  yet,  drawen-on  by  the  easinesse  of 
the  style  and  elegancy  of  the  language,  I  have  read  it  all 
over,  and  I  give  you  most  humble  thankes  for  sending  it 
me.  I  pray  you  present  my  service  to  Mr  Hooke. 

I  am.  Sir,  your  most  obliged  and  humble  servant, 

Tho:  Hobbes. 

THOMAS   HOBBES 

Letter  to  John  Aubrey  (1679) 


DIFFERING  POLITELY 


It  is  as  uncharitable  a  point  in  us  to  fall  upon  those  popular 
scurrilities  and  opprobrious  scoffs  of  the  Bishop  of  Rome, 
to  whom,  as  a  temporal  Prince,  we  owe  the  duty  of  good 
language.  I  confess  there  is  cause  of  passion  between  us  : 
by  his  sentence  I  stand  excommunicated  ;  Heretick  is  the 
best  language  he  affords  me  ;  yet  can  no  ear  witness  I  ever 
returned  him  the  name  of  Antichrist,  Man  of  Sin,  or 
Whore  of  Babylon.  It  is  the  method  of  Charity  to  suffer 
without  reaction  ;  those  usual  Satyrs  and  invectives  of  the 
Pulpit  may  perchance  produce  a  good  effect  on  the  vulgar, 
whose  ears  are  opener  to  Rhetorick  than  Logick  ;  yet  do 
they  in  no  wise  confirm  the  faith  of  wiser  Believers,  who 
know  that  a  good  cause  needs  not  to  be  patron'd  by  pas- 
sion, but  can  sustain  it  self  upon  a  temperate  dispute. 

SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE 

Religio  Medici  (1642) 
142 


CREDULITY 


To  CURE  THE  GOUT 


Madame  de  Bouxols,  Marshal  Berwick's  daughter, 
assured  me  that  there  was  nothing  so  good  for  the  gout,  as 
to  preserve  the  parings  of  my  nails  in  a  bottle  close- 
stopped. 

HORACE   WALPOLE 

Letter  to  Thomas  Gray  (1765) 


A  PECULIAR  PEOPLE 


There  are  two  rivers  Atoica  and  Cacra,  and  on  that 
braunch  which  is  called  Caora  are  a  nation  of  people  whose 
heades  appeare  not  above  their  shoulders,  which  though  it 
may  be  thought  a  meere  fable,  yet  for  mine  owne  parte  I 
am  resolves  it  is  true,  because  every  child  in  the  provinces 
of  Arromaia  and  Canuri  affirme  the  same  :  they  are  called 
Ewaipanoma  :  they  are  reported  to  have  their  eyes  in  their 
shoulders,  and  their  mouths  in  the  middle  of  their  breasts, 
and  that  a  long  train  of  haire  groweth  backward  betwen 

143 


their  shoulders.  .  .  .  For  mine  owne  part  I  saw  them  not, 
but  I  am  resolved  that  so  many  people  did  not  all  com- 
bine, or  forethinke  to  make  the  report. 

SIR   WALTER   RALEIGH 

The  Discoverie  of  Guiana  (1596) 


SPIRITS  ON  THE  STAIRS  LIKE  BEES 


In  those  darke  [Elizabethan]  times  astrologer,  mathema- 
tician, and  conjurer,  were  accounted  the  same  things  ;  and 
the  vulgar  did  verily  beleeve  him  to  be  a  conjurer.  He  had 
a  great  many  mathematicall  instruments  and  glasses  in  his 
chamber,  which  did  also  confirme  the  ignorant  in  their 
opinion,  and  his  servitor  (to  impose  on  freshmen  and 
simple  people)  would  tell  them  that  sometimes  he  should 
meet  the  spirits  comeing  up  his  staires  like  bees.  .  .  .  Now 
there  is  to  some  men  a  great  lechery  in  lying,  and  imposing 
on  the  understandings  of  simple  people,  and  he  thought  it 
for  his  credit  to  serve  such  a  master.  .  .  .  One  time  ...  he 
happened  to  leave  his  watch  in  the  chamber  windowe — 
(watches  were  then  rarities) .  The  maydes  came  in  to  make 
the  bed,  and  hearing  a  thing  in  a  case  cry  Tick,  Tick,  Tick, 
presently  concluded  that  that  was  his  Devill,  and  tooke  it 
by  the  string  with  the  tongues,  and  threw  it  out  of  the  win- 
do  we  into  the  mote  (to  drowne  the  Devill) .  It  so  happened 
that  the  string  hung  upon  a  sprig  of  an  elder  that  grew  out 
of  the  mote,  and  this  confirm'd  them  that  'twas  the  Devill. 
So  the  good  old  gentleman  gott  his  watch  again. 

JOHN  AUBREY 

Brief  Lives  :  Thomas  Allen  (c.  1680) 
144 


WITCHES 


For  my  part,  I  have  ever  believed,  and  do  now  know,  that 
there  are  Witches  :  they  that  doubt  of  these,  do  not  onely 
deny  them,  but  Spirits,  and  are  obliquely  and  upon  conse- 
quence a  sort  not  of  Infidels,  but  Atheists. 

SIR   THOMAS    BROWNE 

Religio  Medici  (1642) 


A  MONSTER 


By  and  by  we  are  called  to  Sir  W.  Batten's  to  see  the 
strange  creature  that  Captain  Holmes  hath  brought  with 
him  from  Guiny  ;  it  is  a  great  baboon,  but  so  much  like  a 
man  in  many  things  that  though  they  say  there  is  a  species 
of  them,  yet  I  cannot  believe  but  that  it  is  a  monster  got 
out  of  a  man  and  a  she-baboon.  I  do  believe  that  it  already 
undestands  much  English,  and  I  am  of  the  mind  it  might 
be  taught  to  speak  or  make  signs. 

SAMUEL   PEPYS 

Diary  (Aug.  24,  1661) 


VERY  STRANGE 


At  noon  to  my  Lord  Crew's,  where  one  Mr.  Templer  (an 
ingenious  man  and  a  person  of  honour  he  seems  to  be) 
dined  ;  and,  discoursing  of  the  nature  of  serpents,  he  told 


us  some  that  in  the  waste  places  of  Lancashire  do  grow  to  a 
great  bigness,  and  that  do  feed  upon  larks,  which  they  take 
thus  : — They  observe  when  the  lark  is  soared  to  the 
highest,  and  so  crawl  till  they  come  to  be  just  underneath 
them  ;  and  there  they  place  themselves  with  their  mouths 
uppermost,  and  there,  as  it  is  conceived,  they  do  eject 
poyson  up  to  the  bird ;  for  the  bird  do  suddenly  come 
down  again  in  its  course  of  a  circle,  and  falls  directly  into 
the  mouth  so  of  the  serpent ;  which  is  very  strange. 

Ibid.  (Feb.  4,  1662) 


DELIGHTING  TO  TERATOLOGIZE 

I  think  (if  you  can  give  me  leave  to  be  free  with  you),  that 
you  are  a  little  inclineable  to  credit  strange  relations.  I 
have  found  men  that  are  not  skilfull  in  the  history  of 
Nature  very  credulous  and  apt  to  impose  upon  themselves 
and  others, ...  or  delight  to  teratologize  (pardon  the  word) 
and  to  make  shew  of  knowing  strange  things. 

JOHN   RAY 

Letter  to  John  Aubrey  (1691) 


CURING  THE  AGUE 

I  took,  early  in  the  morning,  a  good  dose  of  Elixir,  and 
hung  three  spiders  about  my  neck,  and  they  drove  my 
ague  away — Deo  gratias. 

ELIAS   ASHMOLE 

Life  (April  u,  1681) 
146 


SANGUINE 


Mr.  Noel  has  the  Letter  of  Resolution  concerning  Origen 
to  convey  to  your  Ladiship.  I  am  persuaded  it  will  please 
you  better  than  any  Romance. 

HENRY   MORE 

Letter  to  Lady  Conway  (1661) 


CURIOUS  SIGHTS 


REMARKABLE  RIVERS 


And  one  of  no  lesse  credit  than  Aristotle  tells  us  of  a 
merry  River,  the  River  Elusina,  that  dances  at  the  noise 
of  Musick,  for  with  Musick  it  bubbles,  dances,  and  growes 
sandy,  and  so  continues  til  the  musick  ceases,  but  then  it 
presently  returnes  to  its  wonted  calmnesse  and  clearnesse. 
.  .  .  And  .  .  .  one  of  no  lesse  authority  than  Josephus  that 
learned  Jew,  tells  us  of  a  River  in  Judea,  that  runs  swiftly 
all  the  six  dayes  of  the  week,  and  stands  still  and  rests 
all  their  Sabbath. 

IZAAK   WALTON 

The  Compleat  Angler  (1653) 
147 


AMUSING  TOYS 

In  another  chamber  are  divers  sorts  of  instruments  of 
musiq  :  amongst  other  toys  that  of  a  satyre,  which  so  arti- 
ficially expressed  a  human  voice,  with  the  motion  of  eyes 
and  head,  that  it  might  easily  affright  one  who  was  not 
prepared  for  that  most  extravagant  sight.  They  shewed 
us  also  a  chayre  that  catches  fast  any  who  sitts  downe  in 
it,  so  as  not  to  be  able  to  stirr,  but,  by  certaine  springs 
concealed  in  the  arms  and  back  thereoff,  which  at  sitting 
downe  surprizes  a  man  on  the  suddaine,  locking  him  in 
by  the  armes  and  thighs,  after  a  true  trecherous  Italian 
guise.  .  .  .  Here  stands  a  rare  clock  of  German  worke  ; 
in  a  word,  nothing  but  what  is  magnificent  is  to  be  scene 
in  this  paradise. 

JOHN   EVELYN 

Diary  (Villa  Borghese,  Nov.  17,  1644) 


CORPSE  OF  A  YOUNG  LADY 

In  one  of  these  monuments  Pancirollus  tells  us  that,  in  the 
time  of  Paul  III,  there  was  found  the  body  of  a  young  lady, 
swimming  in  a  kind  of  bath  of  precious  oyle  or  liquor, 
fresh  and  entire  as  if  she  had  been  living,  neither  her 
face  discolour'd,  nor  her  hair  disorder'd  ;  at  her  feet  burnt 
a  lamp,  which  suddenly  expir'd  at  the  opening  of  the 
vault;  having  flam'd,  as  was  computed,  now  1500  years, 
by  the  conjecture  that  she  was  TulHola,  the  daughter  of 
Cicero,  whose  body  was  thus  found,  as  the  inscription 
testified. 

Ibid. 

(Fossa  Nuova,  Jan.  28,  1645) 
148 


DANCING 


ANTINOUS  EXPLAINS  IT 

i 

Where  lives  the  man  that  never  yet  did  heare 
Of  chaste  Penelope,  Ulisscs*  Queene  ?  .  .  . 

3- 

Homer  doth  tell  in  his  aboundant  verse, 
The  long  laborious  travailes  of  the  Man  ; 
And  of  his  lady  too  he  doth  reherse 
How  shee  illudes  with  all  the  art  she  can, 
Th'  ungratefull  love  which  other  lords  began  ; 

4- 

All  this  he  tells,  but  one  thing  he  forgot. 
One  thing  most  worthy  his  eternall  song ; 
But  he  was  old,  and  blind,  and  saw  it  not, 
Or  else  he  thought  he  should  Ulisses  wrong, 
To  mingle  it  his  tragike  acts  among  ; 

Yet  was  there  not  in  all  the  world  of  things 
A  sweeter  burden  for  his  Muse's  wings. 

5- 

The  courtly  love  Antinous  did  make  : 
Antinous  that  fresh  and  jolly  knight, 
Which  of  the  gallants  that  did  undertake 

149 


To  win  the  widdow,  had  most  wealth  and  might, 
Wit  to  perswade,  and  beautie  to  delight : 

The  courtly  love  he  made  unto  the  Queene, 

Homer  forgot,  as  if  it  had  not  beene. 

7- 

One  onely  night's  discourse  I  can  report, 
When  the  great  Torch-bearer  of  Heaven  was  gone 
Downe  in  a  maske  unto  the  Ocean's  Court, 
To  revell  it  with  Thetis  all  alone  ; 
Antinons  disguised  and  unknowne, 
Like  to  the  Spring  in  gaudie  ornament, 
Unto  the  Castle  of  the  Princesse  went. 

ii. 

Only  Antinous  when  at  first  he  view'd 
Her  starbright  eyes,  that  with  new  honour  shind  ; 
Was  not  dismayd,  but  there-with-all  renew'd 
The  noblesse  and  the  splendour  of  his  mind  ; 
And  as  he  did  fit  circumstances  find, 

Unto  the  throne  he  boldly  gan  advance, 

And  with  faire  maners  wooed  the  Queene  to  dance. 

12. 

"  Goddesse  of  women,  sith  your  heav'nlinesse 

Hath  now  vouchsaft  it  selfe  to  represent 

To  our  dim  eyes,  which  though  they  see  the  lesse 

Yet  are  they  blest  in  their  astonishment ; 

Imitate  heav'n,  whose  beauties  excellent 
Are  in  continuall  motion  day  and  night, 
And  move  thereby  more  wonder  and  delight. 

13- 

Let  me  the  moover  be,  to  turne  about 

Those  glorious  ornaments,  that  Youth  and  Love 

150 


Have  fixed  in  you,  every  part  throughout ; 

Which  if  you  will  in  timely  measure  move. 

Not  all  those  precious  jemms  in  heav'n  above, 
Shall  yeeld  a  sight  more  pleasing  to  behold. 
With  all  their  turnes  and  tracings  manifold. " 

14- 

With  this  the  modest  Princesse  blusht  and  smiPd, 
Like  to  a  cleare  and  rosie  eventide, 
And  softly  did  returne  this  answer  mild  : 
"  Faire  Sir,  you  needs  must  fairely  be  denide 
Where  your  demaunde  cannot  be  satisfide  ; 
My  feet,  which  onely  Nature  taught  to  goe, 
Did  never  yet  the  art  of  footing  know. 

15- 

But  why  perswade  you  me  to  this  new  rage  ? 
(For  all  disorder  and  misrule  is  new) 
For  such  misgovernmcnt  in  former  age 
Our  old  divine  Forefathers  never  knew ;  .  .  ." 

16. 

"  Sole  heire  of  Vertue  and  of  Beautie  both, 

Whence  cometh  it "  (Antinous  replies) 

"  That  your  imperious  vertue  is  so  loth 

To  grant  your  beauty  her  chiefe  excercise  ? 

Or  from  what  spring  doth  your  opinion  rise 
That  dauncing  is  a  frenzy  and  a  rage, 
First  known  and  us'd  in  this  new-fangled  age  ? 

17- 

Dauncing  (bright  Lady)  then  began  to  bee,  The 

When  the  first  seeds  whereof  the  World  did  spring  of  rS 

The  fire,  ayre,  earth,  and  water—did  agree, 
By  Love's  perswasion,— Nature's  mighty  King— 

151 


To  leave  their  first  disordred  combating ; 
And  in  a  daunce  each  measure  to  observe, 
As  all  the  world  their  motion  should  preserve, 

19- 

Like  this,  he  fram'd  the  gods'  eternall  Bower, 
And  of  a  shapelesse  and  confused  masse, 
By  his  through-piercing  and  digesting  power, 
The  turning  vault  of  heaven  formed  was ; 
Whose  starry  wheeles  he  hath  so  made  to  passe, 
As  that  their  moovings  do  a  musicke  frame, 
And  they  themselves  still  daunce  unto  the  same. 

22. 

How  justly  then  is  Dauncing  tearmcd  new, 
Which  with  the  World  in  point  of  time  begun  ? 
Yea  Time  it  selfe  (whose  birth  Jove  never  knew, 
And  which  indeed  is  older  then  the  sun) 
Had  not  one  moment  of  his  age  outrunne, 
When  out  leapt  Dauncing  from  the  heap  of  things, 
And  lightly  rode  upon  his  nimble  wings."  .  .  . 

28. 

S?emai  of   when  Love  ha(i  shapt  this  World,— this  great  fairs  Wight, 
Dancing     That  all  wights  else  in  this  wide  womb  containes  ; 
And  had  instructed  it  to  daunce  aright, 
A  thousand  measures  with  a  thousand  straines, 
Which  it  should  practise  with  delightfull  paines, 
Untill  that  fatall  instant  should  revolve, 
When  all  to  nothing  should  againe  resolve  : 

29. 

The  comely  order  and  proportion  faire 
On  every  side,  did  please  his  wandring  eye : 
Till  glauncing  through  the  thin  transparent  ayre, 
A  rude  disordered  rout  he  did  espie 
152 


Of  men  and  women,  that  most  spightfully 
Did  one  another  throng,  and  crowd  so  sore. 
That  his  kind  eye  in  pitty  wept  therefore. 

3°- 

And  swifter  then  the  lightning  downe  he  came. 
Another  shapelesse  Chaos  to  digest ; 
He  will  begin  another  world  to  frame, 
(For  Love  till  all  be  well  will  never  rest) 
Then  with  such  words  as  cannot  be  exprest, 

He  cutts  the  troups,  that  all  asunder  fling, 

And  ere  they  wist,  he  casts  them  in  a  ring. 

33- 

"  If  Sence  hath  not  yet  taught  you,  learne  of  me  ^LoS 

A  comely  moderation  and  discreet ;  mcnTo 

That  your  assemblies  may  well  ordered  bee  Dancing 

When  my  uniting  power  shall  make  you  meet, 
With  heav'nly  tunes  it  shall  be  tempered  sweet : 
And  be  the  modell  of  the  World's  great  frame, 
And  you,  Earth's  children,  Daunting  shall  it  name. 

34- 

Behold  the  World.,  how  it  is  whirled  round) 

And  for  it  is  so  whirl'd,  is  named  so ; 

In  whose  large  volume  many  rules  are  found 

Of  this  new  Art,  which  it  doth  fairely  show  ; 

For  your  quicke  eyes,  in  wandring  too  and  fro 
From  East  to  West,  on  no  one  thing  can  glaunce, 
But  if  you  marke  it  well,  it  seemes  to  daunce. 

35- 

First  you  see  fixt  in  this  huge  mirrour  blew  |^fy 

Of  trembling  lights,  a  number  numberlesse  :  Ihe'tSi 

Fixt  they  are  nam'd,  but  with  a  name  untrue,  *tars' 

For  they  all  moove,  and  in  a  Daunce  expressc 

153 


That  great  long  yeare,  that  doth  containe  no  lesse 
Then  threescore  hundreds  of  those  yeares  in  all. 
Which  the  sunne  makes  with  his  course  naturall. 

37- 

Under  that  spangled  skye,  five  wandring  flames 
Besides  the  King  of  Day,  and  Queene  of  Night, 
Are  wheel'd  around,  all  in  their  sundry  frames, 
And  all  in  sundry  measure  doe  delight, 
Yet  altogether  keepe  no  measure  right ; 
For  by  it  selfe  each  doth  it  selfe  advance, 
And  by  it  selfe  each  doth  a  galliard  daunce. 

39- 

For  that  brave  Sunne  the  Father  of  the  Day, 
Doth  love  this  Earth,  the  Mother  of  the  Night ; 
And  like  a  revellour  in  rich  aray, 
Doth  daunce  his  galliard  in  his  lemman's  sight, 
Both  back,  and  forth,  and  sidewaies,  passing  light ; 
His  princely  grace  doth  so  the  gods  amaze, 
That  all  stand  still  and  at  his  beauty  gaze. 

40. 

But  see  the  Earth,  when  he  approcheth  neere, 
How  she  for  joy  doth  spring  and  sweetly  smile  ; 
But  see  againe  her  sad  and  heavy  cheere 
When  changing  places  he  retires  a  while ; 
But  those  blake  cloudes  he  shortly  will  exile, 

And  make  them  all  before  his  presence  flye. 

As  mists  consum'd  before  his  cheereful  eye. 

41. 

Who  doth  not  see  the  measures  of  the  Moone, 
Which  thirteene  times  she  daunceth  every  yeare  ? 
And  ends  her  pavine  thirteene  times  as  soone 
As  doth  her  brother,  of  whose  golden  haire 

154 


She  borroweth  part  and  proudly  doth  it  weare ; 
Then  doth  she  coyly  turne  her  face  aside. 
Then  half  her  cheeke  is  scarse  sometimes  discride. 

43- 
And  now  behold  your  tender  nurse  the  Ayre  oftheAyre. 

And  common  neighbour  that  ay  runs  around ; 
How  many  pictures  and  impressions  faire 
Within  her  empty  regions  are  there  found  ; 
Which  to  your  sences  Dauncing  doe  propound. 

For  what  are  Breath,  Speech.,  Ecchos,  Mnsicke,  Winds, 

But  Dauncings  of  the  Ayre  in  sundry  kinds  ? 

46. 

And  thou  sweet  Musicke,  Dauncing's  onely  life. 
The  eare's  sole  happinesse,  the  ayre's  best  speach  ; 
Loadstone  of  fellowship,  charming-rod  of  strife. 
The  soft  mind's  Paradice,  the  sicke  mind's  leach ; 
With  thine  own  tong,  thou  trees  and  stons  canst  teach, 
That  when  the  Aire  doth  dance  her  finest  measure, 
Then  art  thou  borne,  the  gods  and  mens  sweet  pleasure. 

47- 

Lastly,  where  keepe  the  Winds  their  revelry, 
Their  violent  turnings,  and  wild  whirling  hayes, 
But  in  the  Ayre's  tralucent  gallery  ? 
Where  shee  herselfe  is  turnd  a  hundreth  wayes, 
While  with  those  Maskers  wantonly  she  playes ; 

Yet  in  this  misrule,  they  such  rule  embrace, 

As  two  at  once  encomber  not  the  place. 

49- 

For  loe  the  Sea  that  fleets  about  the  Land,  Of  the  s«- 

And  like  a  girdle  clips  her  solid  waist, 
Musicke  and  measure  both  doth  understand; 
For  his  great  chrystall  eye  is  alwayes  cast 

155 


Up  to  the  Moone,  and  on  her  fixed  fast ; 
And  as  she  daunceth  in  her  pallid  spheere, 
So  daunceth  he  about  his  Centre  heere. 

50. 

Sometimes  his  proud  greene  waves  in  order  set, 

One  after  other  flow  into  the  shore ; 

Which,  when  they  have  with  many  kisses  wet, 

They  ebbe  away  in  order  as  before  ; 

And  to  make  knowne  his  courtly  love  the  more, 
He  oft  doth  lay  aside  his  three-forkt  mace, 
And  with  his  armes  the  timorous  Earth  embrace. 

51- 

Onely  the  Earth  doth  stand  for  ever  still : 
Her  rocks  remove  not,  nor  her  mountaines  meet : 
(Although  some  wits  enricht  with  Learning's  skill 
Say  heav'n  stands  firme,  and  that  the  Earth  doth  fleet, 
And  swiftly  turneth  underneath  their  feet) 
Yet  though  the  Earth  is  ever  stedfast  seene, 
On  her  broad  breast  hath  Dauncing  ever  beene. 

52. 

For  those  blew  vaines  that  through  her  body  spred, 
Those  saphire  streames  which  from  great  hils  do  spring, 
(The  Earth's  great  duggs,  for  every  wight  is  fed 
With  sweet  fresh  moisture  from  them  issuing) : 
Observe  a  daunce  in  their  wilde  wandering ; 
And  still  their  daunce  begets  a  murmur  sweet, 
And  still  the  murmur  with  the  daunce  doth  meet. 

53- 

Of  all  their  wayes  I  love  Meander's  path, 
Which  to  the  tunes  of  dying  swans  doth  daunce ; 
Such  winding  sleights,  such  turns  and  tricks  he  hath, 
Such  creeks,  such  wrenches,  and  such  daliaunce  ; 

156 


That  whether  it  be  hap  or  heedlesse  chaunce, 
In  this  indented  course  and  wriggling  play 
He  seemes  to  daunce  a  perfect  cunning  hay. 

55- 
See  how  those  flowres  that  have  sweet  beauty  too,  °f  other 

J          *  things  upon 

(The  onely  jewels  that  the  Earth  doth  weare,  the  edrth- 

When  the  young  Sunne  in  bravery  her  doth  woo)  : 
As  oft  as  they  the  whistling  wind  doe  heare, 
Doe  wave  their  tender  bodies  here  and  there ; 

And  though  their  daunce  no  perfect  measure  is3 

Yet  oftentimes  their  musicke  makes  them  kis. 

59- 

But  why  relate  I  every  singular  ? 

Since  all  the  World's  great  fortunes  and  affaires 

Forward  and  backward  rapt  and  whirled  are. 

According  to  the  musicke  of  the  spheares : 

And  Chaunge  herself  her  nimble  feete  upbeares  : 
On  a  round  slippery  wheele  that  rowleth  aye, 
And  turnes  all  States  with  her  imperious  sway. 

60. 

Learnc  then  to  daunce,  you  that  are  Princes  borne, 

And  lawfull  lords  of  earthly  creatures  all ; 

Imitate  them,  and  therof  take  no  scorne, 

For  this  new  art  to  them  is  naturall— 

And  imitate  the  starres  celestial! : 

For  when  pale  Death  your  vital  twist  shall  sever, 
Your  better  parts  must  daunce  with  them  for  ever." 

61. 

Thus  Love  perswadcs,  and  all  the  crowde  of  men 
That  stands  around,  doth  make  a  murmuring ; 
As  when  the  wind  loosed  from  his  hollow  den 
Among  the  trees  a  gentle  base  doth  sing, 

157 


Or  as  a  brooke  through  pebbles  wandering ; 
But  in  their  looks  they  uttered  this  plain  speach, 
That  they  would  learn  to  daunce,  if  Love  would  teach 

64. 

Rounds  or  Thus  when  at  first  Love  had  them  marshalled, 
Dances.      As  earst  he  did  the  shapelesse  masse  of  things, 

He  taught  them  rounds  and  winding  heyes  to  tread, 
And  about  trees  to  cast  themselves  in  rings : 
As  the  two  Beares,  whom  the  First  Mover  flings 
With  a  short  turn  about  heaven's  axeltree, 
In  a  round  daunce  for  ever  wheeling  be. 

70. 

Lavoitaes.    Yet  is  there  one,  the  most  dclightfull  kind, 
A  loftie  jumping,  or  a  leaping  round ; 
Where  arme  in  arme  two  dauncers  are  entwind 
And  whirle  themselves  with  strict  embracements  bound, 
And  still  their  feet  an  anapest  do  sound  ; 
An  anapest  is  all  their  musick's  song, 
Whose  first  two  feet  are  short,  and  third  is  long. 

71- 

As  the  victorious  twinnes  of  Loeda  and  Jove 
That  taught  the  Spartans  dauncing  on  the  sands 
Of  swift  Eurotas,  daunce  in  heavn  above, 
Knit  and  united  with  eternall  hands ; 
Among  the  starres  their  double  image  stands, 
Where  both  are  carried  with  an  equall  pace, 
Together  jumping  in  their  turning  race. 

76. 

Thus  Love  taught  men,  and  men  thus  learn'd  of  Love 
Sweet  Musick's  sound  with  feet  to  counterfaite ;  .  ,  . 

77- 

Since  when  all  ceremonious  misteries, 
All  sacred  orgies  and  religious  rights, 


All  pomps,  and  triumphs,  and  solemnities,  7he  use*nd 

r        r  >  r      >  y  formes  of 

All  funerals,  nuptials,  and  like  publike  sights,  ^unSr1"8  m 

All  Parliaments  of  peace,  and  warlike  fights,  affaires  of 

r  rr  mai1  S  llfe< 

All  learned  arts,  and  every  great  anaire 
A  lively  shape  of  dauncing  seems  to  beare. 

87. 

For  after  townes  and  kingdomes  founded  were, 
Betweene  greate  States  arose  well-ordered  War ; 
Wherein  most  perfect  measure  doth  appeare, 
Whether  their  well-set  ranks  respected  are 
In  quadrant  forme  or  semicircular  : 

Or  else  the  march,  when  all  the  troups  advance, 

And  to  the  drum,  in  gallant  order  daunce. 

88. 

And  after  Warrs,  when  white-wing'd  Victory 
Is  with  a  glorious  tryumph  beautified, 
And  every  one  doth  lo  lo  cry, 
Whiles  all  in  gold  the  conquerour  doth  ride  ; 
The  solemne  pompe  that  fils  the  Citty  wide 

Observes  such  ranke  and  measure  everywhere, 

As  if  they  altogether  dauncing  were. 

97- 

The  Quecne,  whose  dainty  cares  had  borne  too  long 
The  tedious  praise  of  that  she  did  despise  ; 
Adding  once  more  the  musicke  of  the  tongue 
To  the  sweet  speech  of  her  alluring  eyes, 
Began  to  answer  in  such  winning  wise, 

As  that  forthwith  Antinous*  tongue  was  tyde, 

His  eyes  fast  fixt,  his  earcs  were  open  wide. 

98. 

"  Forsooth  "  (quoth  she\  "  great  glory  you  have  won 
To  your  trim  minion,  Dauncing,  all  this  while, 
By  blazing  him  Love's  first  begotten  sonnc ;  .  .  . 

159 


101. 

What  meane  the  mermayds  when  they  daunce  and  sing 

But  certaine  death  unto  the  marriner  ? 

What  tydings  doe  the  dauncing  dilphins  bring, 

But  that  some  dangerous  storme  approcheth  nere  ? 

Then  sith  both  Love  and  Dauncing  lyveries  beare 

Of  such  ill  hap,  unhappy  may  I  prove, 

If  sitting  free,  I  either  daunce  or  love." 

102. 
Yet  once  again  Antinous  did  reply ;  .  .  . 

106. 

"  Love  in  the  twinckling  of  your  eylids  daunceth, 
Love  daunceth  in  your  pulses  and  your  vaines, 
Love  when  you  sow,  your  needle's  point  advanceth 
And  makes  it  daunce  a  thousand  curious  straines 
Of  winding  rounds,  whereof  the  forme  remaines  ; 
To  shew,  that  your  faire  hands  can  daunce  the  hey, 
Which  your  fine  feet  would  learne  as  well  as  they. 

in. 

If  they  whom  sacred  Love  hath  link't  in  one, 
Doe  as  they  daunce,  in  all  their  course  of  life, 
Never  shall  burning  griefe  nor  bitter  mone, 
Nor  factious  difference,  nor  unkind  strife, 
Arise  between  the  husband  and  the  wife ; 
For  whether  forth  or  bake  or  round  he  goe, 
As  the  man  doth,  so  must  the  woman  doc. 

116. 

Who  sees  an  Armie  all  in  ranke  advance, 
But  seemes  a  wise  Commaunder  is  in  place, 
Which  leadeth  on  that  brave  victorious  daunce  ? 
Much  more  in  Dauncing's  Art,  in  Dauncing's  grace, 

1 60 


Blindness  it  selfe  may  Reason's  footstep  trace  ; 
For  of  Love's  maze  it  is  the  curious  plot, 
And  of  Man's  fellowship  the  true-love  knot. 

117. 

But  if  these  eyes  of  yours,  (load-starrs  of  Love, 
Shewing  the  World's  great  daunce  to  your  mind's  eye  !) 
Cannot  with  all  their  demonstrations  move 
Kinde  apprehension  in  your  fantasie, 
Of  Dauncing's  vertue  and  nobilitie  ; 

How  can  my  barbarous  tongue  win  you  there  to. 
Which  Heav'n  and  Earth's  faire  speech  could  never  do  ? 

118. 

O  Love  my  king  :  if  all  my  wit  and  power 
Have  done  you  all  the  service  that  they  can, 
O  be  you  present  in  this  present  hower, 
And  help  your  servant  and  your  true  Leige-man 
End  that  perswasion  which  I  earst  began  ; 
For  who  in  praise  of  Dauncing  can  perswade 
With  such  sweet  force  as  Love,  which  Dancing  made  ?  " 
SIR  JOHN  DAVIES,  Orchestra  (1594) 


WICKED  DANCING 

COMUS  enters  with  a  Charming  Rod  in  one  hand,  his 
Glass  in  the  other,  with  him  a  rout  of  Monsters,  headed 
like  sundry  sorts  of  wilde  Beasts,  but  otherwise  like  Men 
and  Women,  their  Apparel  glistering,  they  come  in  making 
a  riotous  and  unruly  noise,  with  Torches  in  their  hands. 
COMUS  : 

The  Star  that  bids  the  Shepherd  fold, 
Now  the  top  of  Heav'n  doth  hold, 
FP  161 


And  the  gilded  Car  of  Day, 
His  glowing  Axle  doth  allay 
In  the  steep  Atlantick  stream, 
And  the  slope  Sun  his  upward  beam 
Shoots  against  the  dusky  Pole, 
Pacing  toward  the  other  gole 
Of  his  Chamber  in  the  East. 
Mean  while  welcom  Joy,  and  Feast, 
Midnight  shout,  and  revelry, 
Tipsie  dance,  and  Jollity. 
Braid  your  Locks  with  rosie  Twine 
Dropping  odours,  dropping  Wine. 
Rigor  now  is  gon  to  bed, 
And  Advice  with  scrupulous  head, 
Strict  Age,  and  sowre  Severity, 
With  their  grave  Saws  in  slumber  lie. 
We  that  are  of  purer  fire 
Imitate  the  Starry  Quire, 
Who  in  their  nightly  watchfull  Sphears, 
Lead  in  swift  round  the  Months  and  Years. 
The  Sounds,  and  Seas  with  all  their  finny  drove 
Now  to  the  Moon  in  wavering  Morrice  move, 
And  on  the  Tawny  Sands  and  Shelves, 
Trip  the  pert  Fairies  and  the  dapper  Elves  ; 
By  dimpled  Brook,  and  Fountain  brim. 
The  Wood-Nymphs  deckt  with  Daisies  trim, 
Their  merry  wakes  and  pastimes  keep  : 
What  hath  night  to  do  with  sleep  ?  .  .  . 
Com,  knit  hands,  and  beat  the  ground, 
In  a  light  fantastick  round.  .  .  . 
The  LADY  enters. 
LADY  : 

This  way  the  noise  was,  if  mine  ear  be  true, 
162 


My  best  guide  now,  me  thought  it  was  the  sound 
Of  Riot,  and  ill-manag'd  Merriment, 
Such  as  the  jocund  Flute,  or  gamesom  Pipe 
Stirs  up  among  the  loosse  unletter'd  Hinds, 
When  for  their  teeming  Flocks,  and  granges  full 
In  wanton  dance  they  praise  the  bounteous  Pan, 
And  thank  the  gods  amiss.  I  should  be  loath 
To  meet  the  rudeness,  and  swill'd  insolence 
Of  such  late  Wassailers. 


JOHN   MILTON 

Comus  (1634) 


IMMODERATION 

Now  it  chanced  that  those  of  the  wooers  pleased  him  most 
who  had  come  from  Athens,  and  of  these  Hippocleides 
the  son  of  Tisander  was  rather  preferred,  both  by  reason 
of  manly  virtues  and  also  because  he  was  connected  by 
descent  with  the  family  of  Kypselos  at  Corinth.  Then 
when  the  appointed  day  came  for  the  marriage  banquet 
and  for  Clcisthcnes  himself  to  declare  whom  he  selected 
from  the  whole  number,  Cleisthenes  sacrificed  a  hundred 
oxen  and  feasted  both  the  wooers  themselves  and  all  the 
people  of  Sikyon  ;  and  when  the  dinner  was  over,  the 
wooers  began  to  vie  with  one  another  both  in  music  and 
in  speeches  for  the  entertainment  of  the  company  ;  and 
as  the  drinking  went  forward  and  Hippocleides  was  very 
much  holding  the  attention  of  the  others,  he  bade  the 
flute-player  play  for  him  a  dance-measure  ;  and  when  the 
flute-player  did  so,  he  danced  :  and  it  so  befell  that  he 
pleased  himself  in  his  dancing,  but  Cleisthenes  looked  on 
at  the  whole  matter  with  suspicion.  Then  Hippocleides 


after  a  certain  time  bade  one  bring  in  a  table ;  and  when 
the  table  came  in,  first  he  danced  upon  it  Laconian  figures, 
and  then  also  Attic,  and  thirdly  he  planted  his  head  upon 
the  table  and  gesticulated  with  his  legs.  Cleisthenes  mean- 
while, when  he  was  dancing  the  first  and  second  time, 
though  he  abhorred  the  thought  that  Hippocleides  should 
now  become  his  son-in-law,  because  of  his  dancing  and 
his  shamelessness,  yet  restrained  himself,  not  desiring  to 
break  out  in  anger  against  him  ;  but  when  he  saw  that  he 
thus  gesticulated  with  his  legs,  he  was  no  longer  able  to 
restrain  himself,  but  said  :  "  Thou  hast  danced  away  thy 
marriage,  nevertheless,  son  of  Tisander  !  "  and  Hippo- 
cleides answered  and  said  "  Hippocleides  cares  not  !  " 
and  hence  comes  this  saying. 

HERODOTUS 

History  (5th  cent.  B.C.) 
Trans.  G.  C.  Macaulay 


ELVES 

Or  Faerie  Elves, 

Whose  midnight  Revels,  by  a  Forrest  side 
Or  Fountain  some  belated  Peasant  sees, 
Or  dreams  he  sees,  while  over  head  the  Moon 
Sits  Arbitress,  and  neerer  to  the  Earth 
Wheels  her  pale  course,  they  on  thir  worth  and  dance 
Intent,  with  jocond  Music  charm  his  ear  ; 
At  once  with  joy  and  fear  his  heart  rebounds. 

JOHN   MILTON 

Paradise  Lost,  Book  I  (1667) 
164 


MORRIS 

The  first  mundaye  in  Lent .  .  .  my  selfe,  thats  I,  otherwise 
called  Cavaliero  Kemp,  head-master  of  Morrice-dancers 
.  .  .  began  frolickly  to  foote  it  from  the  right  honourable 
the  Lord  Mayors  of  London  towards  the  right  worshipfull 
(and  truely  bountifull)  Master  Mayors  of  Norwich.  My 
setting  forward  was  somewhat  before  seaven  in  the  morn- 
ing ;  my  Taberer  stroke  up  merrily ;  and  as  fast  as  kinde 
people  thronging  together  would  give  me  leave,  thorow 
London  I  leapt. 

[And  so  to  Norwich  in  nine  days.] 

WILLIAM    KEMP 

Nine  Dales  Wonder  (1600) 


Hey  !  who  comes  heere  ail-along. 

With  bag-piping  and  drumming  ? 

'Tis  the  Morris  daunce  a-comming. 

Come.,  come,  ladies,  come  ladies  out ; 

O  !  come,  come  quickly, 

And  see  how  trim  they  daunce,  how  trim  and  trickly. 

Hey  !  there  againe,  there  again  ;  hey  ho  there  agayne 
Hey  !  there  againe,  how  the  bells  they  shake  it, 
Now  for  our  town  once,  and  take  it. 
Soft  awhile,  not  so  fast ;  they  melt  them  : 
What  ho  Piper  !  Piper  be  hang'd  awhile  : 
Knave,  scest  not  the  dauncers  how  they  swelt  them  ? 
Out  there  awhile  you  come :  I  say  you  are  too  farr  in ; 
There,  give  the  hobby  horse  more  room  to  play  in. 

THOMAS    MORLEY 

Madrigalh  to  four e  Voyces  (1594) 


LIGHT  FOOT 

When  thou  dos't  dance  the  Spheares  doe  play, 
By  Night  Starrs  torches.  Sunn  by  day 
Each  stepp  soe  loath  to  wrong  thy  Birth, 
Affraide  to  hurt  thy  Mother  Earth, 
The  tender  blades  of  Grass  when  thou 
dos't  dance  upon  them  doe  not  bowe. 

The  falling  dew  to  doth  thee  Wooe 
When  tripps't  on  it  scarse  wetts  thy  shoe, 
Then  Lady  like  doth  Change  thy  minde 
and  Dances  on  the  Wavering  wind 

The  thynner  Ayre  strives  thine  to  meete 

to  Tread  it  with  thy  Gentle  feete. 

JOHN   GAMBLE    (?) 

When  thou  dost  dance  (before  1687) 


DANCING  TREES 

NIGHT  : 

Tis  now  a  time  when  (Zephyrus)  all  with  dancing 

Honor  me,  above  day  my  state  advancing. 

lie  now  be  frolicke,  all  is  full  of  hart, 

And  ev'n  these  trees  for  joy  shall  beare  a  part  : 

Zephyrus  they  shall  dance. 
ZEPHYRUS : 

Daunce,  Goddesse  ?  how  ? 
NIGHT  : 

Seemes  that  so  full  of  strangenes  to  you  now  ? 

Did  not  the  Thracian  harpe  long  since  the  same  ? 

And  (if  we  ripp  the  ould  records  of  fame) 
166 


Did  not  Amphions  lyre  the  deafe  stones  call. 
When  they  came  dancing  to  the  Theban  wall  ?  .  .  . 
Dauncing,  and  musicke  must  prepare  the  way, 
Ther's  little  tedious  time  in  such  delay. 

This  spoken^  the  foure  SILVANS  played  on  their  instru- 
ments the  first  straine  of  this  song  following  :  .  .  .  the 
trees  of  gould  .  .  .  began  to  move.,  and  dance  according 
to  the  measure  of  the  time  which  the  musitians  kept  in 
singing  .  .  . 

Move  now  with  measured  sound 
You  charmed  grove  of  gould. 
Trace  forth  the  sacred  ground 
That  shall  your  formes  unfold. 

Diana,  and  the  starry  night  for  your  Apollos  sake 
Endue  your   Silvan  shapes   with  powre  this   strange 

delight  to  make 
Much  joy  must  needs  the  place  betide  where  trees  for 

gladnes  move, 
A  fairer  sight  was  nere  beheld,  or  more  expressing  love, 

Yet  neerer  Phoebus  throne 
Mete  on  your  winding  waies, 
Your  Brydall  mirth  make  knowne 
In  your  high-graced  Hayes. 

Let  Hymen  lead  your  sliding  rounds,  and  guide  them 

with  his  light, 

While  we  do  lo  Hymen  sing  in  honour  of  this  night 
Joyne  three  by  three,  for  so  the  night  by  triple  spel 

decrees 
Now  to  release  Apollos  knights  from  these  enchanted 

trees. 

167 


This  dancing-song  being  ended,  the  goulden  trees  stood  in 
rankes  three  by  three 

Tell  me,  gentle  howre  of  night 

Wherein  dost  thou  most  delight  ? 

Not  in  sleepe  .  .  .  wherein  then  ? 

In  the  frolicke  vew  of  men  ? 

Lovest  thou  musicke  ?  Howre.  O,  tis  sweet. 

Whats  daunting  ?  Howre.  Ev'n  the  mirth  of  feete. 

Joy  you  in  Fayries  and  in  elves  ? 

We  are  of  that  sort  our  selves.  THQMAS  CAMpION 

Maske  .  .  .  in  honour  of  the  Lord  Hayes,  and  his  Bride 

(1607) 


CUMBERLAND  DANCING 


After  Skiddaw  we  walked  to  Ireby,  the  oldest  market  town 
in  Cumberland,  where  we  were  greatly  amused  by  a  coun- 
try dancing-school  holden  at  the  Tun ;  it  was  indeed  no 
new  cotillon  fresh  from  France;  No,  they  kickit  and  jumpit 
with  mettle  extraordinary,  and  whiskit  and  friskit,  and 
toed  it  and  go'd  it,  and  twirl'd  it  and  whirPd  it,  and 
stamped  it  and  sweated  it,  tatooing  the  floor  like  mad.  The 
difference  between  our  country  dances  and  these  Scottish 
figures  is  about  the  same  as  leisurely  stirring  a  cup  o'  tea 
and  beating  up  a  batter  pudding.  I  was  extremely  gratified 
to  think  that,  if  I  had  pleasures  they  knew  nothing  of, 
they  had  also  some  into  which  I  could  not  possibly 

Cnter-  JOHN   KEATS 

Letter  to  Thomas  Keats  (1818) 
168 


DAY-DREAMS 


*   GOING  TO  MARYLAND 

Now  if  I  would  be  rich,  I  could  be  a  prince.  I  could  goe 
into  Maryland,  which  is  one  of  the  finest  countrys  of  the 
world  ;  same  climate  with  France  ;  between  Virginia  and 
New  England.  I  can  have  all  the  favour  of  my  lord  Balte- 
more  I  could  wish.  His  brother  is  his  lieutenant  there, 
and  a  very  good  natured  gentleman.  Plenty  of  all  things  : 
ground  there  is  2000  miles  westwards. 

I  could  be  able  I  believe  to  carry  a  colony  of  rogues  ; 
another  of  ingeniose  artificers  ;  and  I  doubt  not  one  might 
make  a  shift  to  have  5  or  6  ingeniose  companions,  which 
is  enough. 

JOHN   AUBREY 

Brief  Lives  :  William  Butler  (c.  1680) 


A  MELODRAMATIC  LIFE 

I  sometimes  feel  a  little  uneasy  about  that  imagined  self 
of  mine — the  Me  of  my  daydreams — who  leads  a  melo- 
dramatic life  of  his  own,  quite  unrelated  to  my  real  exist- 
ence. So  one  day  I  shadowed  him  down  the  street.  He 

169 


loitered  along  for  a  while,  and  then  stood  at  a  shop-window 
and  dressed  himself  out  in  a  gaudy  tie  and  yellow  waistcoat. 
Then  he  bought  a  great  sponge  and  two  stuffed  birds  and 
took  them  to  lodgings,  where  he  led  for  a  while  a  shady 
existence.  Next  he  moved  to  a  big  house  in  Mayfair,  and 
gave  grand  dinner-parties,  with  splendid  service  and  costly 
wines.  His  amorous  adventures  in  this  region  I  pass  over. 
He  soon  sold  his  house  and  horses,  dismissed  his  retinue  of 
servants,  and  went — saving  two  young  ladies  from  being 
run  over  on  the  way — to  live  a  life  of  heroic  self-sacrifice 
among  the  poor. 

I  was  beginning  to  feel  encouraged  about  him,  when 
in  passing  a  fishmongers,  he  pointed  with  his  stick  at  a 
great  salmon  and  said,  "  I  caught  that  fish." 

LOGAN  PEARSALL  SMITH 

Trivia  (1918) 


DECANAL 


A  GOOD  DISH 

The  King  appointed  Doctor  Donne  to  waite  on  him  at 
dinner  the  next  day ;  and  his  Majesty  (being  set  down) 
before  he  eat  any  meat,  said  (after  his  pleasant  manner) 
Doctor  Donne,  I  have  invited  you  to  dinner,  and  though 
you  sit  not  downe  with  me,  yet  I  will  carve  to  you  of  a  dish 

170 


that  I  know  you  love  ;  you  love  London  well,,  I  doe  there- 
fore make  you  Deane  of  Pauls,  and)  when  I  have  dined,  take 
your  meate  home  to  your  study,  say  grace,  and  much  good 
may  it  doe  you. 

IZAAK   WALTON 

The  Life  and  Death  of  Dr.  Donne  (1640) 


DEPLORING  THE 
DECADENCE  OF  THE  AGE 


WORSE  AND  WORSE 

Damnosa  quid  non  imminuit  dies  ? 
Aetas  parentum,  peior  avis,  tulit 
Nos  nequiores,  mox  daturos 
Progeniem  vitiosiorem. 

HORACE 
In  Romanes  moribus  corruptos.  Carmina,  Bk  III 

(C.  20  B.C.) 


THE  HUMOUR  OF  MANY  HEADS 

Which  very  absurdity  is  daily  committed  amonst  us,  even 
in  the  esteem  and  censure  of  our  own  times.  And  to  speak 
impartially,  old  Men,  from  whom  we  should  expect  the 

171 


greatest  example  of  Wisdom,  do  most  exceed  in  this  point 
of  folly ;  commending  the  days  of  their  youth,  which 
they  scarce  remember,  at  least  well  understood  not ; 
extolling  those  times  their  younger  ears  have  heard  their 
Fathers  condemn,  and  condemning  those  times  the  gray 
heads  of  their  posterity  shall  commend.  And  thus  is  it  the 
humour  of  many  heads,  to  extol  the  days  of  their  Fore- 
fathers, and  declaim  against  the  wickedness  of  times  pre- 
sent. Which  notwithstanding  they  cannot  handsomly  do, 
without  the  borrowed  help  and  Satyrs  of  times  past ; 
condemning  the  vices  of  their  own  times,  by  the  expres- 
sions of  vices  in  times  which  they  commend  ;  which  cannot 
but  argue  the  community  of  vice  in  both. 

SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE 

Pseudodoxia  Epidemica  (1646) 


WHAT  WE  WERE  BEFORE,  AND  WHAT  WE 
ARE  Now 

Consider  with  thy  selfe  (gentle  Reader)  the  olde  discipline 
of  Englande,  mark  what  we  were  before,  and  what  we  are 
now  : .  .  .  cast  thine  eye  backe  to  thy  Predecessors,  and  tell 
mee  ho  we  wonderfully  wee  have  beene  chaunged,  since  wee 
were  schooled  with  these  abuses.  Dion  sayth,  that  english 
men  could  suffer  watching  and  labor,  hunger  and  thirst, 
and  beare  of  al  stormes  with  hed  and  shoulders,  they  used 
slender  weapons,  went  naked,  and  were  good  soldiours, 
they  fed  uppon  rootes  and  barkes  of  trees,  they  would 
stand  up  to  the  chin  many  dayes  in  marishes  without 
victualles  :  and  they  had  a  kind  of  sustenaunce  in  time  of 
neede,  of  which  if  they  had  taken  but  the  quantitie  of  a 

172 


beane,  or  the  weight  of  a  pease,  they  did  neyther  gape  after 
meate,  nor  long  for  the  cuppe,  a  great  while  after.  The 
men  in  valure  not  yeelding  to  Scithia,  the  women  in  cour- 
age passing  the  Amazons.  The  exercise  of  both  was  shoot- 
yng  and  dancing,  running  and  wrestling,  and  trying  such 
maisteries,  as  eyther  consisted  in  swiftnesse  of  feete, 
agilitie  of  body,  strength  of  armes,  or  Martiall  discipline. 
But  the  exercise  that  is  nowe  among  us,  is  banqueting, 
playing,  pipyng,  and  dauncing,  and  all  suche  delightes  as 
may  win  us  to  pleasure,  or  rocke  us  a  sleepe. 

Oh  what  a  woonderfull  chaunge  is  this  ?  Our  wreastling 
at  armes  is  turned  to  wallowyng  in  Ladies  laps,  our 
courage,  to  cowardice,  our  running  to  ryot,  our  Bowes 
into  Bolles,  and  our  Dartes  to  Dishes.  We  have  robbed 
Greece  of  Gluttonie,  Italy  of  wantonnesse,  Spaine  of  pride, 
Fraunce  of  deceite,  and  Dutchland  of  quaffing.  Compare 
London  to  Rome,  and  England  to  Italy,  you  shall  finde  the 
Theaters  of  the  one,  the  abuses  of  the  other,  to  be  rife 
among  us.  Experto  crede,  I  have  scene  somewhat,  and 
therefore  I  thinke  may  say  the  more.  STEPHEN  GOSSON 

The  Schoole  of  Abuse  (1579) 


OUR  SPARKFULL  YOUTH 

Hitherto  will  our  sparkefull  Youth  laugh  at  their  great 

grandfathers  English,  who  had  more  care  to  do  wel  than  to 

speake  minion-like,  and  left  more  glorie  to  us  by  their 

exploiting  of  great  actes,  than  we  shall  doe  by  our  forging 

anew  words  and  uncouth  phrases.  WILLIAM  CAMDEN 

Remains  concerning  Britain  (1605) 

173 


OUR  PLAIN  FATHERS 


.  .  .  We  flourish!  long, 

E're  idle  Gentry  up  in  such  aboundance  sprong, 
Now  pestring  all  this  He  :  whose  disproportion  drawes 
The  publique  wealth  so  drie,  and  only  is  the  cause 
Our  gold  goes  out  so  faste,  for  foolish  foraine  things 
Which  upstart  Gentry  still  into  our  Country  brings  ; 
Who  their  insatiate  pride  seek  chiefly  to  maintaine 
By  that,  which  only  serves  to  uses  vile  and  vaine  : 
Which  our  plaine  Fathers  earst  would  have  accounted 

sinne, 

Before  the  costly  Coach,  and  silken  stock  came  in  ; 
Before  that  Indian  weed  so  strongly  was  imbrac't ; 
Wherein  such  mighty  summes  we  prodigally  waste  ; 
That  Merchants  long  train'd  up  in  gayn's  deceitfull 

schoole, 
And  subtly  having  learn'd  to   soothe  the  humorous 

foole, 

Present  their  painted  toyes  unto  this  frantique  gull. 
Disparaging  our  Tinne,  our  Leather,  Corne,  and  Wooll ; 
When  Forrainers,  with  ours  them  cloath  and  feed, 
Transporting  trash  to  us,  of  which  we  nere  had  need. 
But    whilst    the    angry    Muse    thus    on    the    Time 

exclames, 

Sith  every  thing  therin  consisteth  in  extreames. 
Lest  she  inforc't  with  wrongs  her  limits  should  trans - 

cend, 
Here  of  this  present  Song  she  briefly  makes  an  end. 

MICHAEL   DRAYTON 

Poly-Olbion.  Song  XVI 
(1613) 

174 


YOUNG  PEOPLE  OF  THE  COMMONWEALTH 

'Tis  strange  to  see  the  folly  that  possesses  the  young 
People  of  this  Age.,  and  the  libertys  they  take  to  them- 
selv's;  I  have  the  Charrity  to  beleeve  they  appear  very 
much  worse  than  they  are,  and  that  the  want  of  a  Court  to 
govern  themselv's  by  is  in  great  part  the  cause  of  theire 
Ruine ;  Though  that  was  noe  perfect  scoole  of  Vertue,  yet 
Vice  there  wore  her  maske,  and  apeard  soe  unlike  herselfe 
that  she  gave  noe  scandall.  Such  as  were  realy  as  discreet  as 
they  seem'd  to  bee,  gave  good  Example,  and  the  Eminency 
of  theire  condition  made  others  strive  to  imitate  them,  or 
at  least  they  durst  not  owne  a  contrareary  course.  All  who 
had  good  principles  and  inclinations  were  incouraged  in 
them,  and  such  as  had  neither  were  forced  to  put  on  a 
handsome  disguise  that  they  might  not  bee  out  of  counten- 
ance  at  themselves.  DOROTHY  OSBORNE 

Letter  to  Sir  William  Temple  (1654) 


FRIVOLOUS  LITERARY  TASTE  OF  THE  COMMONWEALTH 

Plain  poetry  is  now  disesteem'd,  it  must  be  Drollery,  or  it 

will  not  please.  HENRY  HERRINGMANj  bookseller 

Preface  to  Musarum  Deliciae  (1655) 


CONTEMPLATING  OUR  FOREFATHERS 

'Tis  opportune  to  look  back  upon  old  times,  and  contem- 
plate our  Forefathers.  Great  examples  grow  thin,  and  to 


be  fetched  from  the  passed  world  *  Simplicity  flies  away, 
and  iniquity  comes  at  long  strides  upon  us. 

SIR  THOMAS    BROWNE 

Epistle  Dedicatory  to  Hydrotaphia  (1658) 


DECAY  OF  LEARNING,  PREACHING,  CONVERSATION, 
AND  MANNERS 


A  reason  why  learning  hath  decayed  in  these  later  time* 
and  now,  is  the  nation  of  England  her  too  much  admiring 
the  manners  and  fashions  of  the  French  nation,  when  as 
there  is  not  a  gentleman  of  a  considerable  estate  in  Eng- 
land but  must  have  a  French  man  or  woman  to  breed  up 
their  children  after  their  way. .  .  . 

A  neglect  now  of  the  Fathers  and  none  but  foolish  vaine 
and  florid  preaching.  One  that  discoursed!  in  company 
scolar-like  (viz.  by  quoting  the  Fathers,  producing  an 
antient  verse  from  the  poets  suitable  to  his  discours)  is 
accounted  pedanticall  and  pedagogicall.  Nothing  but  news 
and  the  affaires  of  Christendom  is  discoursed  off,  and  that 
also  generally  at  coffee-houses.  And  clubbs  at  alehouses 
and  coffee  houses  have  not  bin  up  above  14  years  before 
this  time.  .  .  . 

Decay  of  learning.  Before  the  warr  wee  had  scholars 
that  made  a  thorough  search  in  scholasticall  and  polemicall 
divinity,  in  humane  authors,  and  naturall  philosophy.  But 
now  scholars  studie  these  things  not  more  than  what  is 
just  necessary  to  carry  them  throug  the  exercises  their 
respective  colleges  and  the  Universitie.  Their  aime  is  not  to 
live  as  students  ought  to  do,  viz.  temperat,  abstemious, 
and  plaine  and  grave  in  apparell ;  but  to  live  like  gents,  to 


keep  dogs  and  horses,  to  turne  their  studies  and  coleholes 
into  places  to  receive  bottles,  to  swash  it  in  apparell,  to 
weare  long  periwigs,  etc.,  and  the  theologists  to  ride 
abroad  in  grey  coats  with  swords  by  their  sides. 

The  masters  have  lost  their  respect  by  being  themselves 
scandalous  and  keeping  company  with  undergraduates. 

Fresh  nights,  caroling  in  public  halls,  Christmas 
sports,  vanished,  1661. 

ANTHONY   WOOD 

Life  and  Times  (Dec,  1661) 


THIS  FOLLY  OF  LAUGHING  AT 

An  age  wherein  a  zealous  concernment  in  studies  is  laught 
at  and  many  wonder  at  the  folly  of  those  before  the  warr 
time  that  spent  so  much  time  and  broke  their  braines  in 
schol.  divinity  and  metaphis.  This  folly  of  laughing  at 
continued  wors  and  worse  till  1679.  ...  An  age  given  to 
brutish  pleasure  and  atheisme.  .  .  .  This  year  [1662]  such 
a  saying  come  up  in  London,  "  The  Bishops  get  all,  the 
Courtiers  spend  all,  the  Citizens  pay  for  all,  the  King 
neglects  all,  and  the  Divells  take  all/' 

Ibid. 


MEANER  TRAVELLING 

When  I  was  a  youth  many  great  persons  travelled  with 
3  horses,  butt  now  there  is  a  new  face  of  things. 

SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE 

Letter  to  his  son  Edward  (1680) 
177 


THE  GOOD  OLD  DAYS 


In  those  days  (Elizabetha  regina)  .  .  .  when  a  senator  went 
to  the  Parliament-house  a-foote,  or  a  horse-back  with  his 
foot-cloath,  he  had  at  his  heeles  £  a  dozen  or  10  tall 
fellowes  with  blew  coates  and  badges  and  long  basket-hilt 
swords.  Now  forsooth  only  a  laquey  and  a  little  spitt-pig. 

The  advantage  that  king  Charles  I  had :  gentlemen  then 
kept  good  horses,  and  many  horses  for  a  man-at-armes., 
and  men  that  could  ride  them  ;  hunting-horses.  Now  we 
are  come  all  to  our  coaches  forsooth  ! . .  .  Now  young  men 
are  so  farre  from  managing  good  horses,  they  know  not 
how  to  ride  a  hunting  nag  nor  handle  their  weapons.  .  . . 

In  Sir  Philip  Sidney's  time  'twas  as  much  disgrace  for  a 
cavalier  to  be  seen  in  London  rideing  in  a  coach  in  the 
street  as  now  'twould  be  to  be  seen  in  a  petticoate  and 
wastcoate.  They  rode  in  the  streets  then  with  their  rich 
foot-cloathes,  and  servants  wayting  on  them  with  blewe 
coates  and  badge.  .  .  . 

T.T.,  an  old  gentleman  that  remembers  Queen  Eliza- 
beth's raigne  and  court. ...  He  hath  seen  much  in  his  time 
both  at  home  and  abroade;  and  with  much  choler  in- 
veighes  against  things  now  : — "  Alas  !  o'  God's  will  ! 
Now-a-dayes  every  one,  forsooth  !  must  have  coaches, 
forsooth  !  In  those  dayes  gentlemen  kept  horses  for  a 
man-at-armes,  besides  their  hackney  and  hunting-horses. 
This  made  the  gentry  robust  and  hardy  and  fitt  for  ser- 
vice ;  were  able  to  be  their  owne  guides  in  case  of  a  rout 
or  so,  when  occasion  should  so  require. 

Our  gentry  forsooth  in  these  dayes  are  so  effeminated 
that  they  know  not  how  to  ride  on  horseback.  Then  when 
the  gentry  mett,it  was  not  at  a  poor  blind  sordid  ale-house, 


to  drinke  up  a  barrel)  of  drinke  and  lie  drunke  there  two 
or  three  dayes  together ;  fall  together  by  the  eares. 
They  mett  then  in  the  fields,  well-appointed,  with  their 
hounds  or  their  hawkes ;  kept  up  good  hospitality ;  and 
kept  a  good  retinue,  that  would  venture  that  bloud  and 
spirit  that  filled  their  vaines  which  their  masters'  tables 
nourisht ;  kept  their  tenants  in  due  respect  of  them.  We 
had  no  depopulacion  in  those  dayes. 

You  see  in  me  the  ruines  of  time.  The  day  is  almost  at 
end  with  me,  and  truly  I  am  glad  of  it :  I  desire  not  to  live 
in  this  corrupt  age.  I  foresawe  and  fortold  the  late  changes, 
and  now  easily  foresee  what  will  follow  after.  Alas  !  o' 
God's  will !  It  was  not  so  in  Queen  Elizabeth's  time  :  then 
youth  had  respect  to  old  age. 

Revels — then  the  elders  and  better  sort  of  the  parish 
sate  and  beheld  the  pastimes  of  the  young  men,  as  wrast- 
ling,  shooting  at  butts,  bowling,  and  dancing.  All  this  is 
now  lost ;  and  pride,  whoring,  wantonnesses,  and  drunken- 
nesses. Then  the  charity  of  the  feast,  St  Peter's  box, 
mantayned  the  old  impotent  poore." 

JOHN   AUBREY 

Brief  Lives  :  Thomas  Tyndale  (c.  1680) 


LUXURY  IN  COLLEGE 


About  1638  or  1640,  when  he  was  at  Trinity  College, 
Dr  Kettle,  preaching  as  he  was  wont  to  do  on  Trinity  Sun- 
day, told  'em  that  they  should  keepe  their  bodies  chast 
and  holy :  "  but,"  said  he,  "  you  fellows  of  the  College  here 
eate  good  commons  and  drinke  good  double-beer.  ..." 

179 


How  would  the  good  old  Dr.  have  raunted  and  beat-up 
his  kettle-drum,  if  he  should  have  seen  such  luxury  in 
the  college  as  there  is  now  !  Tempora  mutantur  ! 

Ibid. 
Ralph  Kettell 


DECLINE  OF  CHEMISTS 


Meredith  Lloyd  tells  me  that,  three  or  400  yeares  ago, 
chymistry  was  in  a  greater  perfection,  much,  than  now ; 
their  process  was  then  more  seraphique  and  universall : 
now  they  looke  only  after  medicines. 

Ibid. 
Brief  Lives  :  Saint  Dunstan  (c.  1680) 


WHAT  A  WRETCHED  PASS 


What  a  wretched  Pass  is  this  wicked  Age  come  to,  when 
Ben.  Johnson  and  Shakespear  won't  go  down  with  'em, 
without  these  Baubles  to  recommend  'em,  and  nothing  but 
Farce  and  Grimaces  will  go  down. ...  In  short,  Mr  Collier 
may  save  himself  the  trouble  of  writing  against  the 
Theatres,  for,  if  these  lewd  Practices  are  not  laid  aside, 
and  Sence  and  Wit  come  in  play  again,  a  Man  may  easily 
foretell,  without  pretending  to  the  Gift  of  Prophesie, 
that  the  Stage  will  be  short-hVd. 

TOM  BROWN 

Letter  to  Mr  Moult  (1699) 
180 


AN  UNDOUBTED  TRUTH 

I  know  it  is  reckoned  but  a  form  of  speech,  when  Divines 
complain  of  the  Wickedness  of  the  Age.  However,  I 
believe,  upon  a  fair  Comparison  with  other  Times  and 
countries,  it  would  be  found  an  undoubted  Truth. 

JONATHAN   SWIFT 

Project  for  the  Advancement  of  Religion 
and  Reformation  of  Manners  (1709) 


No  PANCAKES 

It  hath  been  an  old  custom  in  Oxford  for  the  scholars  of 
all  houses,  on  Shrove  Tuesday,  to  go  to  dinner  at  ten  clock, 
(at  which  time  the  little  bell,  called  pan-cake  bell.,  rings, 
or  at  least  should  ring,  at  St  Maries), .  . .  and  it  was  always 
followed  in  Edmund  hall,  as  long  as  I  have  been  in  Oxford, 
till  yesterday,  when  they  went  to  dinner  at  twelve,  and  to 
supper  at  six,  nor  were  there  any  fritters  at  dinner,  as 
there  used  always  to  be.  When  laudable  old  customs 
alter,  'tis  a  sign  learning  dwindles.  THOMAS  HEARNE 

Diary  (Feb.  27,  1723) 


EVERYTHING  THAT'S  OLD 

HARDCASTLE  :  In  my  time,  the  follies  of  the  town  crept 
slowly  among  us,  but  now  they  travel  faster  than  a  stage- 
coach. .  .  . 

MRS  HARDCASTLE  :  Ay,  your  times  were  fine  times  indeed  ; 
you  have  been  telling  us  of  them  for  many  a  long  year. 

181 


Here  we  live  in  an  old  rambling  mansion,  that  looks  for 
all  the  world  like  an  inn,  but  that  we  never  see  company 
.  .  .  and  all  our  entertainment  your  old  stories  of  Prince 
Eugene  and  the  Duke  of  Marlborough.  I  hate  such  old- 
fashioned  trumpery  ! 

HARD  :  And  I  love  it.  I  love  every  thing  that's  old  :  old 
friends,  old  times,  old  manners,  old  books,  old  wines  ; 
and,  I  believe,  Dorothy  you'll  own  I  have  been  pretty 
fond  of  an  old  wife.  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

She  Stoops  to  Conquer  (1772) 


TASTE  OVER 

English  living  poets  I  have  avoided  mentioning ;  we  have 
none  who  will  not  survive  their  productions.  Taste  is 
over  with  us  ;  and  another  century  will  sweep  our  Empire, 
our  literature,  and  our  name,  from  all  but  a  place  in  the 
annals  of  mankind.  LORD  BYRON 

Memorandum  (1807) 


MODERN  SQUEAMISHNESS 

I  am  delighted  with  your  approbation  of  my  "  Cenci." 
...  I  confess  I  cannot  approve  of  the  squeamishness 
which  excludes  the  exhibition  of  such  subjects  from  the 
scene,  a  squeamishness  the  produce,  as  I  firmly  believe, 
of  a  lower  tone  of  the  public  mind,  and  foreign  to  the 
majestic  and  confident  wisdom  of  the  golden  age  of  our 
country.  P.  B.  SHELLEY 

Letter  to  Thomas  Medwin  (1819) 
182 


DETERIORATION  OF  CLUBS 

No-one  can  describe  the  splendour  and  excitement  of  the 
early  days  of  Crockford's.  A  supper  of  the  most  exquisite 
kind  .  .  .  was  provided  gratis.  The  members  of  the  Club 
included  all  the  celebrities  of  England  .  .  .  and  at  the  gay 
and  festive  board  . . .  the  most  brilliant  sallies  of  wit,  the 
most  agreeable  conversation,  the  most  interesting  anec- 
dotes, interspersed  with  grave  political  discussions  and 
acute  logical  reasoning  on  every  conceivable  subject, 
proceeded  from  the  soldiers.,  scholars,  statesmen,  poets, 
and  men  of  pleasure —  The  tone  of  the  Club  was  excellent. 
A  most  gentlemanlike  feeling  prevailed,  and  none  of  the 
rudeness,  familarity,  and  ill-breeding,  which  disgrace  some 
of  the  minor  clubs  of  the  present  day,  would  have  been 
tolerated  for  a  moment. 

CAPTAIN  R.   H.    GRONOW 

Reminiscences,  1 810-60  (1861) 


THE  SHAMELESS  i86o's 

How  astonished  and  horror-struck  would  be  the  great 
ladies  of  the  Restoration  [of  the  Bourbons]  if  they  could 
rise  from  their  graves  and  behold  their  granddaughters 
emulating  the  demi-monde  in  their  dress,  language  and 
manners  ;  affichant  their  liaisons  in  the  sight  of  the  sun  ; 
walking  into  their  lovers'  houses  unveiled,  undisguised, 
or  riding  with  them  publicly,  and  having  their  carriages 
called  under  their  own  names  at  the  restaurants  or  small 
theatres  where  they  have  been  tete-^-tete  ! 


The  dignified,  artful,  proud,  but  perhaps  not  more 
virtuous  grandmother  would  have  been  unutterably 
disgusted,  not  so  much  at  the  immorality  as  at  the  bad 
taste  displayed  in  such  arrangements,  which  then  existed 
just  as  much  as  now,  but  were  supposed  to  be  unknown. 

Ibid. 


A  COPIOUS  AND  PLEASANT  CONVERSATION 


The  last  time  I  saw  Southey  was  on  an  evening  at  Taylor's 
[1839].  .  .  .  We  sat  on  the  sofa  together;  our  talk  was  long 
and  earnest ;  topic  ultimately  the  usual  one,  steady  approach 
of  democracy,  with  revolution  (probably  explosive)  and  a 
finis  incomputable  to  man — steady  decay  of  all  morality, 
political,  social,  individual,  this  once  noble  England 
getting  more  and  more  ignoble  and  untrue  in  every  fibre 
of  it,  till  the  gold  .  .  .  would  all  be  eaten  out,  and  noble 
England  would  have  to  collapse  in  shapeless  ruin,  whether 
for  ever  or  not  none  of  us  could  know.  Our  perfect  con- 
sent on  these  matters  gave  an  animation  to  the  Dialogue, 
which  I  remember  as  copious  and  pleasant.  Southey's  last 
word  was  in  answer  to  some  tirade  of  mine  about  universal 
Mammon-worship,  gradual  accelerating  decay  of  mutual 
humanity,  of  piety  and  fidelity  to  God  or  man,  in  all 
our  relations,  performances — the  whole  illustrated  by 
examples,  I  suppose — to  which  he  answered,  not  with 
levity,  yet  with  a  cheerful  tone  in  his  seriousness,  "  It 
will  not,  and  it  cannot,  come  to  good  "  ! 

THOMAS   CARLYLE 

Reminiscences  (1867) 
184 


A  WRETCHED  AGE 


Again,  as  the  train  drew  out  of  the  station,  the  old 
gentleman  pulled  out  of  his  pocket  his  great  shining 
watch ;  and  for  the  fifth,  or  as  it  seemed  to  me,  the  five 
hundredth,  time,  he  said  .  .  .  "  To  the  minute,  to  the  very 
minute  !  It's  a  marvellous  thing,  the  railway  ;  a  wonderful 
age  !  " 

Now  I  had  long  been  annoyed  by  the  old  gentleman's 
smiling  face,  platitudes,  and  piles  of  newspapers  ;  I  had 
no  love  for  the  Age ;  and  an  impulse  came  on  me  to  de- 
nounce it. 

"  Allow  me  to  tell  you,"  I  said,  "  that  I  consider  it  a 
wretched,  an  ignoble  age.  Where's  the  greatnesl  of  Life, 
where's  dignity,  leisure,  stateliness ;  where's  Art  and 
Eloquence  ?  Where  are  your  great  scholars,  statesmen  ? 
Let  me  ask  you,  Sir,"  I  cried,  glaring  at  him,  "  where's 
your  Gibbon,  your  Burke  or  Chatham  ?  " 

LOGAN   PEARSALL   SMITH 

Trivia  (1918) 


MOTOR-BlCYCLES    AND    PROHIBITIONS 


"  England,"  said  my  friend,  "  in  spite  of  everything,  is 
probably  a  happier  country  to-day  than  it  has  ever  been 
in  history."  The  sun  was  shining  at  the  moment,  a  lark 
was  singing  above  a  buttercup  meadow  with  a  stream 
winding  through  it,  and  an  invisible  cuckoo  was  shouting 


over  a  distant  wood  ;  but  even  so  I  wondered  if  he  could 
be  serious.  I  do  not  object  to  a  man's  saying  that  people 
are  happier  now  than  they  were  in  the  Middle  Ages  .  .  . 
or  at  any  other  period  until  the  last  quarter  of  the  nine- 
teenth century ;  but  the  notion  that  the  world  had  im- 
proved within  living  memory  was  so  novel  that,  if  the 
sun  had  not  been  so  pleasantly  warm,  and  the  wind  on  our 
brows  so  pleasantly  cool,  I  should  have  dismissed  it  with 
derision.  Who  that  has  once  been  young  and  now  is  middle- 
aged  can  have  failed  to  observe  the  steady  deterioration 
of  the  world  in  so  far  as  men  and  women  have  altered  it  ? 
I  do  not  wish  to  indict  the  present  age,  but  it  is  an  age 
that  has  invaded  our  peaceful  age  with  garish  petrol 
pumps,  with  the  odious  odours  of  motor-bicycles,  with 
bungalows,  with  the  dance-music  of  St.  Vitus,  with 
charabancs,  with  doubts,  with  psycho-analysis,  with 
high  taxation,  with  standardization  of  everything  from 
tobacco  to  opinions,  with  advertisement  and  self-advertise- 
ment, with  paint  and  powder,  with  prohibitions  more 

puzzling  than  the  riddle  of  the  Sphinx,  with But 

even  if  I  continued  the  catalogue  for  a  column,  it  would 
be  impossible  to  convey  to  an  inhabitant  of  the  present 
age  what  an  inhabitant  of  a  past  age  thinks  of  all  the 
changes  that  have  come  over  the  world  since  Queen 
Victoria  celebrated  her  Jubilee. 

ROBERT   LYND 

Happy  England  (1930) 


186 


DESTRUCTION 


SILK  STOCKINGS 

He  Richard  Corbet  was  a  student ...  of  Christ-church  in 
Oxford.  He  was  very  facetious,  and  a  good  fellowe.  One 
time  he  and  some  of  his  acquaintance  being  merry  at  Fryar 
Bacon's  study  (where  was  good  liquor  sold)  they  were 
drinking  on  the  leads  of  the  house,  and  one  of  the  scholars 
was  asleepe,  and  had  a  paire  of  good  silke  stockings  on. 
Dr  Corbet  (then  M.A.,  if  not  B.D.)  gott  a  paire  of  cizers 
and  cutt  them  full  of  little  holes. 

JOHN   AUBREY 

Brief  Lives  :  Richard  Corbet  (c.  1680) 


LIBRARIES 

When  Oxford  was  surrendred  (24  Junii  1646)  the  first 
thing  generall  Fairfax  did  was  to  sett  a  good  guard  of 
soldiers  to  preserve  the  Bodleian  Library.  'Tis  said  there 
was  more  hurt  done  by  the  cavaliers  (during  their  garri- 
son) by  way  of  embezilling  and  cutting-off  chaines  of 
bookes,  than  there  was  since.  He  was  a  lover  of  learning, 
and  had  he  not  taken  this  speciall  care,  that  noble  library 


had  been  utterly  destroyed  ...  for  there  were  ignorant 
senators  enough  who  would  have  been  contented  to  have 

had  it  so. 

Ibid. 

Brief  Lives  :  Thomas  Fairfax  (c.  1680) 


CUPS 

Petronius,  late  Consull  of  Rome,  when  he  lay  at  the 
point  of  death,  called  for  a  faire  broad-mouthed  cup  of 
Cassidoine,  which  had  cost  him  before-time  three  hundred 
thousand  sesterces,  and  presently  brake  it  in  pieces,  in 
hatred  and  despight  of  Nero,  for  feare  lest  the  same  prince 
might  have  seazed  upon  it  after  his  desease,  and  therewith 
furnished  his  own  boards. 

PLINY   THE  ELDER 

Natural  History  (c.  77) 
Trans.  Philemon  Holland  (1601) 


CHURCH  ORNAMENTS 

Sudbury,  Jan.  9,  1643.  We  broke  down  10  mighty  great 
Angels  in  Glass,  in  all  80. 

Haverhill,  Jan.  6.  We  brake  down  about  a  hundred 
superstitious  Pictures ;  and  seven  Fryars  hugging  a  Nunn ; 
and  the  picture  of  God  and  Christ,  and  divers  others  very 
superstitious. 

Clare,  Jan.  6.  We  brake  down  1000  Pictures  superstitious  ; 
I  brake  down  200  ;  3  of  God  the  Father,  and  3  of  Christ, 
and  the  Holy  Lamb,  and  3  of  the  Holy  Ghost  like  a  Dove 

188 


with  Wings  ;  and  the  12  Apostles  were  carvd  in  Wood,  on 
the  top  of  the  Roof,  which  we  gave  orders  to  be  taken 
down ;  and  the  Sun  and  Moon  in  the  East  Window,  by 
the  King's  Arms,  to  be  taken  down. 
Dunstall,  Jan.  23.  We  broke  down  60  superstitious  Pic- 
tures :  and  broke  in  pieces  the  Rails  ;  and  gave  orders  to 
pull  down  the  Steps. 

Otley,  Feb.  27.  A  Deputy  brake  down  50  superstitious 
Pictures  ;  a  Cross  on  the  Chancel,  2  Brass  Inscriptions  ; 
and  Moses  with  a  Rod,  and  Aaron  with  his  Mitre,  taken 
down  :  and  20  Cherubims  to  be  broke  down.  etc.  etc. 

WILLIAM   DOWSING 

Suffolk  Journal  (1643-4) 


HUSBANDS'  MANUSCRIPTS 

Her  mind  was  still  uneasy  about  The  Scented  Garden,  and 
she  took  out  the  manuscript  to  examine  it.  ...  When  she 
opened  it,  she  was  perfectly  bewildered  and  horrified.  .  .  . 
Calming  herself,  she  reflected  that  the  book  was  written 
only  for  scholars  and  mainly  for  Oriental  students,  and  that 
her  husband  Cv  never  wrote  a  thing  from  the  impure 
point  of  view."  .  .  .  Then  she  looked  up,  and  there  before 
her  stood  her  husband,  just  as  he  had  stood  in  the  flesh. 
He  pointed  to  the  manuscript,  and  said  "  Burn  it ! "  Then 
he  disappeared.  As  she  had  for  years  been  a  believer  in 
spirits,  the  apparition  did  not  surprise  her,  and  yet  she  was 
tremendously  excited.  "  Burn  it !  "  she  echoed.  "  This 
valuable  manuscript  ?  At  which  he  laboured  for  so  many 
weary  hours  ?  Yet,  doubtless,  it  would  be  wrong  to 
preserve  it  ...  What  a  gentleman,  a  scholar,  and  a  man  of 

189 


the  world,  may  write  when  living,  he  would  see  very 
differently  as  a  poor  soul  standing  naked  before  its  God. 
.  .  .  What  would  he  care  for  the  applause  of  fifteen 
hundred  men  now — for  the  whole  world's  praise,  and  God 
offended  ?  And  yet  the  book  is  for  students  only.  ..." 

At  this  moment  the  apparition  again  stood  before  her, 
and  in  a  sterner  and  more  authoritative  voice  said,  "  Burn 
it !  "  and  then  again  disappeared.  In  her  excitement  she 
scarcely  knew  where  she  was,  or  what  she  did.  .  .  . 

Then  for  the  third  time  Sir  Richard  stood  before  her. 
Again  he  sternly  bade  her  burn  the  manuscript,  and, 
having  added  threatenings  to  his  command,  he  again 
disappeared.  By  this  time  her  excitement  had  passed 
away,  and  a  holy  joy  irradiated  her  soul.  She  took  up  the 
manuscript  and  .  .  .  burnt  it,  sheet  after  sheet,  until  the 
whole  was  consumed.  As  each  leaf  was  licked  up  by  the 
fire,  it  seemed  to  her  that  "  a  fresh  ray  of  light  and  peace  " 
transfused  the  soul  of  her  beloved  husband. 

THOMAS   WRIGHT 

Life  of  Sir  Richard  Burton  (1906) 


HISTORICAL  MANUSCRIPTS 

It  is  suspected  that  our  historical  antiquary,  Speed,  owed 
many  obligations  to  the  learned  Hugh  Broughton,  for  he 
possessed  a  vast  number  of  his  MSS.  which  he  burnt. 
.  .  .  We  have  had  historians  who,  whenever  they  met  with 
information  which  has  not  suited  their  historical  system, 
or  their  inveterate  prejudices,  have  employed  interpola- 
tions, castrations,  and  forgeries,  and  in  some  cases  have 
annihilated  the  entire  document.  .  .  .  Among  these 

190 


suppressors  and  dilapidators  pre-eminently  stands  the 
crafty  Italian  Polydore  Vergil  .  .  .  who  is  said  to  have 
collected  and  burnt  a  greater  number  of  historical  MSS. 
than  would  have  loaded  a  waggon,  to  prevent  the  detection 
of  the  numerous  fabrications  in  his  History  of  England, 
which  was  composed  to  gratify  Mary  and  the  Catholic 
cause. 

The  Harleian  MS,  7379,  is  a  collection  of  state-letters. 
This  MS  has  four  leaves  entirely  torn  out,  and  is  accom- 
panied by  this  extraordinary  memorandum,  signed  by 
the  principal  librarian. 

"  Upon  examination  of  this  book,  Nov.  12,  1764,  these 
four  last  leaves  were  torn  out.  C.  Morton. 

Mem.  Nov.  12,  sent  down  to  Mrs  Macaulay." 

.  .  .  This  memorandum  must  involve  our  female 
historian  in  the  obloquy  of  this  dilapidation.  Such  dis- 
honest practices  of  party  feeling,  indeed,  are  not  peculiar 
to  any  party. 

ISAAC  DISRAELI 

Curiosities  of  Literature  (1792-1817) 


HUSBANDS'  WORK 

Dr  Edward  Davanant  told  me  that  this  learned  man  had 
a  shrew  to  his  wife,  who  was  irreconcileably  angrie  with 
him  for  sitting-up  late  at  night  so,  compileing  his  Diction- 
arie.  .  .  .  When  he  had  half-donne  it,  she  had  the  oppor- 
tunity to  gett  into  his  studie,  tooke  all  his  paines  out  in 
her  lap,  and  threw  it  into  the  fire,  and  burnt  it. 

JOHN  AUBREY 

Brief  Lives  :  Thomas  Cooper  (c.  1680) 
191 


SATANIC  BOOKS 

I  expressed  a  wish  to  know  how  she  came  possessed  of 
this  book  [Volney's  Ruins  of  Empires].  She  said  that  a 
young  man.,  a  great  Constitutionalist,  had  given  it  her 
.  .  .  and  had  pressed  her  much  to  read  it,  for  that  it  was  one 
of  the  best  books  in  the  world.  I  replied,  that  the  author 
was  an  emissary  of  Satan  .  .  .  that  it  was  written  with  the 
sole  aim  of  bringing  all  religion  into  contempt,  and  that  it 
inculcated  the  doctrine  that  there  was  no  future  state,  nor 
reward  for  the  righteous,  nor  punishment  for  the  wicked. 
She  made  no  reply,  but,  going  into  another  room,  re- 
turned with  her  apron  full  of  dry  sticks  .  .  .  which  she 
piled  upon  the  fire,  and  produced  a  bright  blaze.  She  then 
took  the  book  from  my  hand  and  placed  it  upon  the  flaming 
pile  ;  then,  sitting  down,  took  her  rosary  out  of  her  pocket, 
and  told  her  beads  till  the  volume  was  consumed.  This  was 
an  auto-da-fe  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word. 

GEORGE   BORROW 

The  Bible  in  Spain  (1843) 


CONJURING  BOOKS 

My  old  cosen,  parson  Whitney,  told  me  that  in  the  visita- 
tion of  Oxon  in  Edward  VTs  time,  they  burned  mathe- 
matical bookes  for  conjuring  bookes,  and  if  the  Greeke 
professor  had  not  accidentally  come  along,  the  Greeke 
testament  had  been  thrown  into  the  fire  for  a  conjuring 
booke  too. 

JOHN   AUBREY 

Brief  Lives  :  James  Whitney  (c.  1680) 
192 


LOOSE  SONNETS 

Strephon,  of  noble  blood  and  mind, 

(For  ever  shine  his  name) 

As  death  approch'd,  his  soul  refin'd, 

And  gave  his  looser  sonnets  to  the  flame. 

"  Burn,  burn,"  he  cried,  with  sacred  rage, 

"  Hell  is  the  due  of  ev'ry  page  : 

Hell  be  its  fate  "—(But  O  indulgent  Heaven  ! 

So  vile  the  Muse,  and  yet  the  man  forgiv'n  !) 

"  Burn  on,  my  song  ;  for  not  the  silver  Thames, 

Nor  Tiber  with  its  yellow  streams, 

In  endless  currents  rolling  to  the  main, 

Can  e'er  dilute  the  poison  or  wash  out  the  stain." 

ISAAC   WATTS 

Repentance  of  the  Earl  of  Rochester 


DETACHMENT 


THINKING  OF  THE  FIXED  STARS 

For  my  own  part,  I  begin  to  see  the  Earth  so  fearfully 
little,  that  I  believe  from  henceforth,  I  shall  never  be 
concern'd  at  all  for  any  thing  :  That  we  so  eagerly  desire 
to  make  our  selves  great,  that  we  are  always  designing, 
always  troubling  and  harassing  our  selves,  is  certainly 
because  we  are  ignorant  what  these  Vortex's  are  ;  but 
GP  193 


now  I  hope  my  new  lights  will  in  part  justifie  my  laziness, 
and  when  any  one  reproaches  me  with  my  carelessness,  I 
will  answer.  Ah,  did  you  but  know  what  thefix'd  Stars  are  ! 

B.   DE   FONTENELLE 

A  Plurality  of  Worlds 
Trans.  John  Glanvill  (1688) 


DOING  GEOMETRY 

Syracusa  being  taken,  nothinge  greved  Marcellus  more 
then  the  losse  of  Archimedes,  who  beinge  in  his  studie 
when  the  citie  was  taken,  busily  seeking  out  by  him  selfe 
the  demonstracion  of  some  Geometricall  proposition 
which  he  hadde  drawen  in  figure,  and  so  earnestly  occu- 
pied therein,  as  he  neither  sawe  nor  hearde  any  noyse  of 
enemies  that  ranne  uppe  and  downe  the  citie,  and  much 
lesse  knewe  it  was  taken  :  He  wondered  when  he  sawe  a 
souldier  by  him,  that  bad  him  go  with  him  to  Marcellus. 
Notwithstandynge,  he  spoke  to  the  souldier,  and  bad  him 
tary  untill  he  had  done  his  conclusion,  and  brought  it  to 
demonstracion  :  but  the  souldier  being  angry  with  his 
aunswer,  drew  out  his  sword  and  killed  him.  PLUTARCH 

Lives  (c.  100) 
Trans.  Sir  Thomas  North  (1572) 


AN  ISOLATED  BEING 

I  am  an  isolated  Being  on  the  Earth,  without  a  Tie  to 
attach  me  to  life,  except  a  few  School-fellows  and  a  score 
of  females.  LORD  BYRON 

Letter  to  Ensign  Long  (1807) 
194 


UNMOVED  AUTHORS 

For  my  part,  I  never  could  understand  those  quarrels  of 
authors  with  critics,  and  with  one  another.  "  For  God's 
sake,  gentlemen,  what  do  they  mean  ?  " 

Ibid. 
Letter  to  Thomas  Moore  (1817) 


The  man  must  be  enviably  happy  whom  reviews  can 
make  miserable.  I  have  neither  curiosity,  interest,  pain, 
nor  pleasure,  in  anything,  good  or  evil,  they  can  say  of  me. 
I  feel  only  a  slight  disgust,  and  a  sort  of  wonder  that 
they  presume  to  write  my  name. 

PERCY   BYSSHE   SHELLEY 

Letter  to  Leigh  Hunt  (1822) 


Sir, 

Should  you  cast  your  eye  on  the  signature  of  this  letter 
before  you  read  the  contents,  you  might  imagine  that  they 
related  to  a  slanderous  paper  which  appeared  in  your 
Review  some  time  since.  I  never  notice  anonymous 
attacks.  The  wretch  who  wrote  it  has  doubtless  the 
additional  reward  of  a  consciousness  of  his  motives, 
besides  the  thirty  guineas  a  sheet  or  whatever  it  is  that 
you  pay  him.  Of  course  you  cannot  be  answerable  for  all 
the  writings  that  you  edit,  and  I  certainly  bear  you  no  ill- 
will  for  having  edited  the  abuse  to  which  I  allude — indeed, 
I  was  too  much  amused  by  being  compared  to  Pharoah, 
not  readily  to  forgive  editor,  printer,  publisher,  stitcher, 
or  any  one,  except  the  despicable  writer,  connected  with 

195 


something  so  exquisitely  entertaining.  Seriously  speak- 
ing, I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  permitting  myself  to  be 
disturbed  by  what  is  said  or  written  of  me.  .  .  .  But  I 
feel  in  respect  to  the  writer  in  question,  that  "  I  am  there 
sitting,  where  he  durst  not  soar." 

P.   B.   SHELLEY 

Letter  to  the  Editor  of  the  Quarterly  Review  (1818) 


THE  INDIFFERENT  INDIAN 


Then  come  some  of  the  Iroquois  going  to  eat  a  Prisoner 
for  their  Breakfast,  who  seems  as  little  concern'd  as  his 
Devourers. 

BERNARD   DE   FONTENELLE 

A  Plurality  of  Worlds 
Trans.  John  Glanvill  (1688) 


THE  PROCESSION 

Dante  went  one  day  to  a  great  public  procession  ;  he 
entered  the  shop  of  a  bookseller  to  be  a  spectator  of  the 
passing  show.  He  found  a  book  which  greatly  interested 
him  ;  he  devoured  it  in  silence,  and  plunged  into  an  abyss 
of  thought.  On  his  return,  he  declared  that  he  had  neither 
seen,  nor  heard,  the  slightest  occurrence  of  the  public 
exhibition  which  had  passed  before  him. 

ISAAC   DISRAELI 

Curiosities  of  Literature  (1792-1823) 
196 


PLEASURES  OF  DEPATRIATION 


But  whosoever  he  be  whom  fortune  hath  deprived  of  his 
owne  native  countrey,  certes,  she  hath  graunted  and 
allowed  him  to  make  choice  of  that  which  may  please  and 
content  him  .  .  .  Make  choice  of  the  best  and  most  pleas- 
ant citie,  time  will  cause  it  to  be  thy  native  countrey,  and 
such  a  native  countrey  as  shall  not  distract  and  trouble 
thee  with  any  businesse  nor  impose  upon  thee  these  and 
suchlike  exactions  :  make  paiment  and  contribute  to  this 
levie  of  money :  goe  in  embassage  to  Rome  :  receive  such 
a  captaine  or  ruler  into  thine  house,  or  take  such  a  charge 
upon  thee  at  thine  owne  expenses.  Now  he  that  calleth 
these  things  to  remembrance,  if  he  have  any  wit  in  his 
head,  and  be  not  over-blind  every  way  in  his  owne  opin- 
ion and  conceit,  will  wish  and  chose,  if  he  be  banished  out 
of  his  owne  countrey,  to  inhabite  the  verie  Isle  Gyaros,  or 
the  rough  and  barraine  Hand  Cinarus,  where  trees  or 
plants  do  hardly  grow,  without  complaining  with  griefc 
of  hart,  without  lamenting  and  breaking  out  into  these 
plaints  and  womanly  moanes,  reported  by  the  Poet  Simon- 
ides  in  these  words. 

The  roaring  noise  of  purple  sea 

resounding  all  about, 
Doth  fright  me  much,  and  so  inclose 

that  I  can  not  get  out. 

PLUTARCH 

Morals  :  Of  Banishment  (c.  100) 
Trans.  Philemon  Holland  (1603) 


197 


ECCENTRICITY 


THE  PECULIAR  CROCODILE 

Most  things  move  th'under-jaw,  the  Crocodile  not ; 
Most  things  sleep  lying,  th'  Elephant  leans  or  stands. 

GEORGE   HERBERT 

Providence  (1633) 


THE  RELIGIOUS  SATYR 

It  is  likely  there  are  men  also  like  Satyres  inhabiting  in 
some  desert  places,  for  St  Jerom  in  the  life  of  Paul  the 
Eremite,  reporteth  there  appeared  to  S.  Anthony  an  Hippo- 
centaure,  such  as  the  Poets  describe,  and  presently  he  saw 
in  a  rocky  valley  adjoining,  a  little  man  having  crooked 
nostrils,  horns  growing  out  of  his  forehead,  and  the  neath- 
er  part  of  his  body  had  Goats  feet :  the  holy  man  not  dis- 
mayed, taking  the  shield  of  Faith,  and  the  breastplate  of 
Righteousness,  like  a  good  Souldier  of  Christ,  pressed 
towards  him,  which  brought  him  some  fruits  of  palms  as 
pledges  of  his  peace,  upon  which  he  fed  in  the  journey  ; 
which  St  Antony  perceiving,  he  asked  him  who  he  was, 

198 


and  received  this  answer,  I  am  a  mortall  creature,  one 
of  the  inhabitants  of  this  Desert,  whom  the  Gentiles 
(deceived  with  error)  do  worship  as  Fauni,  Satyres,  and 
Incubi :  I  am  come  in  ambassage  from  our  flock,  intreat- 
ing  that  thou  wouldst  pray  for  us  unto  the  common  GOD, 
who  came  to  save  the  world ;  the  which  words  were  no 
sooner  ended,  but  he  ran  away  as  fast  as  any  fowl  could 
flic. 

EDWARD   TOPSELL 

History  of  Four-Footed  Beasts  and  Serpents  (1607) 


THE  GARDEN  PARTY 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  it  is  rather  a  dull  Garden  Party,"  I 
agreed,  though  my  local  pride  was  a  little  hurt  by  the 
disdain  of  that  visiting  young  woman  for  our  rural  society. 
"  Still  we  have  some  interesting  neighbours,  when  you 
get  to  know  them.  Now  that  fat  lady  over  there  in  purple 
— do  you  see  her  ?  Mrs.  Turnbull — she  believes  in  Hell, 
believes  in  Eternal  Torment.  And  that  old  gentleman  with 
whiskers  and  white  spats,  Colonel  Bosco,  is  convinced 
that  England  is  tottering  on  the  very  brink  of  the  Abyss. 
And  the  pie-faced  lady  he  is  talking  to,  Miss  Stuart-Jones, 
was,  she  says,  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  in  a  previous  exist- 
ence. And  our  Curate — we're  proud  of  our  Curate,  he's 
a  great  cricketer,  and  a  kind  of  saint  as  well.  They  say  he 
goes  out  in  Winter  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and 
stands  up  to  his  neck  in  a  pond,  to  cool  and  overcome 
his  appetites." 

LOGAN  PEARSALL  SMITH 

More  Trivia  (1922) 
199 


EXERCISE 


DAY  OUT 

"  Oh.,  the  wild  joys  of  living  !  the  leaping  from  rock  up 

to  rock, 
The  strong  rending  of  boughs  from  the  fir-tree.,  the  cool 

silver  shock 

Of  the  plunge  in  a  pool's  living  water,  the  hunt  of  the  bear. 
And  the  sultriness  showing  the  lion  is  crouched  in  his  lair. 
And  the  meal,  the  rich  dates  yellowed  over  with  gold  dust 

divine, 
And   the  locust-flesh   steeped  in   the   pitcher,   the   full 

draught  of  wine, 

And  the  sleep  in  the  dried  river-channel  where  bulrushes  tell 
That  the  water  was  wont  to  go  warbling  so  softly  and  well  • 
How  good  is  man's  life,  the  mere  living  !  who  fit  to  employ 
All  the  heart  and  the  soul  and  the  senses  for  ever  in  joy  ! 

ROBERT    BROWNING 

Saul  (1842) 

LEAPING 

Leaping  is  an  exercise  very  commendable,  and  healthfull 
for  the  body,  especially  if  you  use  it  in  the  morning,  as 

200 


we  read  Alexander  and  Epaminondas  did.  Upon  a  full 
stomacke  or  to  bedward,  it  is  very  dangerous,  and  in  no 
wise  to  be  exercised. 

HENRY   PEACHAM 

The  Compleat  Gentleman  (1622) 


RUNNING 

In  rennynge  the  exercise  is  good  also,  .  .  . 
Lightly  to  come  and  go,  rennynge  is  sure. 
Rennynge  is  also  right  good  at  the  chase, 
And  for  to  lepe  a  dyke  is  also  good  ; 

ANON 

Of  Knyghthode  and  Batayle  (early  I5th  c.) 


FILIAL 


LOYALTY 

Cicero  the  younger,  who  resembled  his  father  in  nothing 
but  in  name,  .  .  chanced  one  day  to  have  many  strangers 
at  his  board,  and  amongst  others  saw  Cocstius  sitting  at  the 
lower  end.  .  .  Cicero  inquired  of  one  of  his  men  what  he 
was.  .  .  It  is,  said  he,  the  same  Coestius,  of  whom  some 

201 


have  told  you,  that  in  respect  of  his  owne,  maketh  no 
account  of  your  father's  eloquence.  Cicero  being  suddainly 
mooved,  commaunded  the  said  poore  Coestius  to  be  pre- 
sently taken  from  the  table,  and  well  whipt  in  his  pre- 
sence :  Lo-heere  an  uncivill  and  barbarous  host. 

MICHEL  DE  MONTAIGNE 

Essays  :  Of  Bookes  (1580) 
Trans.  John  Florio  (1603) 


COMMON  SENSE 

The  Holy  Mawle,  which  they  fancy  hung  behind  the 
church  door,  which  when  the  father  was  seaventie,  the 
sonne  might  fetch  to  knock  his  father  in  the  head,  as  effete 
and  of  no  more  use. 

JOHN  AUBREY 

Remains  of  Gentilism  and  Judaism  (1687) 


A  POETICAL  SON  TO  A  MUSICAL  FATHER 

I  wish  the  Pierian  springs  would  turn  their  water-ways 
now  through  my  breast,  ...  so  that,  forgetting  her  feeble 
strains,  my  Muse  may  rise  on  bold  wings  to  do  reverent 
duty  to  my  father.  However  her  song  may  be  welcomed, 
it  is  for  you,  best  of  fathers,  that  she  is  preparing  this 
inadequate  work.  I  do  not  know  what  more  fitting  gifts 
from  me  can  answer  yours  to  me,  though  the  greatest 
possible  gifts  can  not  really  answer  yours  ;  far  less  can 
the  meagre  thanks  returned  through  empty  words,  be 

202 


enough  for  them.  Nevertheless,  this  page  sets  forth  my 
assets,  and  what  I  have  of  wealth  I  have  counted  out  on 
this  paper ;  it  is  nothing  beyond  what  golden  Clio  has 
given  me,  and  what  slumbers  have  begotten  in  me  in 
some  secluded  cave,  and  in  the  shadowed,  sacred  laurel 
groves  of  Parnassus 

Do  not,  I  pray  you,  continue  to  condemn  the  holy 
Muses,  nor  think  them  vain  and  poor,  for  through  their 
gifts  you  yourself  cunningly  compose  a  thousand  strains 
to  apt  melodies.  .  .  .  Now  why  is  it  strange  that  it  has 
fallen  to  you  to  beget  me,  a  poet,  that  we,  so  closely  joined 
by  dear  blood-ties,  should  pursue  allied  arts  and  kindred 
studies  ?  Phoebus,  wishing  to  share  himself  between  us, 
gave  these  gifts  to  me,  those  to  my  father,  so  we,  father 
and  son,  possess  the  divided  god. 

But  though  you  pretend  to  hate  the  gentle  Muses,  I 
think  you  do  not  hate  them,  for,  father,  you  do  not  com- 
mand me  to  go  where  the  broad  road  opens,  where  the 
ground  is  more  favourable  for  profit,  and  where  the  golden 
hope  of  amassed  wealth  steadily  shines.  You  do  not  drag 
me  to  the  laws,  the  ill-kept  laws  of  the  nation,  nor  do  you 
condemn  my  ears  to  foolish  clamours.  But,  desiring  to 
enrich  my  mind  further,  you  withdrew  me  far  from  the 
noise  of  the  city,  into  deep  retirement,  and  let  me  walk 
in  the  pleasant  leisure  of  the  Aeonian  banks,  a  happy 
companion  at  Phoebus'  side 

What  greater  thing  could  have  been  given,  by  a  father, 
even  by  Jupiter  himself,  though  he  had  given  all  but  the 
heavens  ?  .  .  .  .  But  for  you,  dear  father,  since  I  cannot 
make  the  return  you  deserve,  ...  let  it  be  enough  that 
I  have  commemorated  your  gifts,  and  told  them  with  a 
thankful  heart. 

And  you,  O  youthful  songs  of  mine,  trifles  of  my  leisure, 
203 


if  only  you  may  venture  to  hope  for  immortality,  .  .  . 
perhaps  you  will  guard  these  praises,  and  my  father's 
name  thus  sung,  as  an  example  to  far-off  ages. 

JOHN   MILTON 

Ad  Pair  em  (1634?) 
(Trans,  from  Latin) 


FLATTERING 


THE  HOUSES  OF  PARLIAMENT 

If  I  should  thus  farre  presume  upon  the  meek  demeanour 
of  your  civil  and  gentle  greatnesse,  Lords  and  Commons, 
as  what  your  publisht  Order  hath  directly  said,  that  to 
gainsay,  I  might  defend  myselfe  with  ease,  if  any  should 
accuse  me  of  being  new  or  insolent,  did  they  but  know 
how  much  better  I  find  ye  esteem  it  to  imitate  the  old  and 
elegant  humanity  of  Greece,  than  the  barbarick  pride  of  a 
Hunnish  and  Norwegian  statelines.  ...  I  know  not  what 
should  withhold  me  from  presenting  ye  with  a  fit  instance 
wherein  to  shew  both  that  love  of  truth  which  ye  eminently 
professe,  and  that  uprightnesse  of  your  judgement  which  is 
not  wont  to  be  partiall  to  yourselves,  by  judging  over 
again  that  Order  which  ye  have  ordain'd  to  regulate 

Printing. 

JOHN  MILTON 

Areopagitica  (1644) 
204 


VOLTAIRE 

One  can  never.  Sir,  be  sorry  to  have  been  in  the  wrong 
when  one's  errors  are  pointed  out  to  one  in  so  obliging 
and  masterly  a  manner.  Whatever  opinion  I  may  have  of 
Shakespeare,  I  should  think  him  to  blame  if  he  could  have 
seen  the  letter  you  have  done  me  the  honour  to  write  to 
me,  and  yet  not  conform  to  the  rules  you  have  their  laid 
down.  When  he  lived,  there  had  not  been  a  Voltaire,  both 
to  give  laws  to  the  stage,  and  to  show  on  what  good  sense 
those  laws  were  founded. 

HORACE   WALPOLE 

Letter  to  Voltaire  (1768) 


MRS  .  MONTAGUE 

When  Mrs.  Montague  shewed  him  some  China  plates 
which  had  once  belonged  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  he  told  her, 
"  that  they  had  no  reason  to  be  ashamed  of  their  present 
possessor,  who  was  so  little  inferior  to  the  first." 

HESTHER   PIOZZI 

Anecdotes  of  Dr.  Johnson  (1786) 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH 

See  where  she  sits  upon  the  grassie  greene, 

(O  seemely  sight  !) 
Yclad  in  Scarlot,  like  a  mayden  Queene, 

And  Ermines  white  : 
205 


Upon  her  head  a  Cremosin  coronet 
With  Damaske  roses  and  DafFadillies  set : 

Bay  leaves  betweene, 

And  Primroses  greene. 
Embellish  the  sweete  Violet. 


Tell  me,  have  ye  scene  her  angelick  face 

Like  Phoebe  fayre  ? 
Her  heavenly  haveour,  her  princely  grace. 

Can  you  well  compare  ? 
The  Redde  rose  medled  with  the  White  yfere, 
In  either  cheeke  depeincten  lively  chere  : 

Her  modest  eye, 

Her  Majestic, 
Where  have  you  seene  the  like  but  there  ?  .  .  . 

I  see  Calliope  speede  her  to  the  place, 

where  my  Goddesse  shines  ; 
And  after  her  the  other  Muses  trace 

with  their  Violines. 
Bene  they  not  Bay  braunches  which  they  doe 

beare, 
All  for  Elisa  in  her  hand  to  weare  ? 

So  sweetely  they  play, 

And  sing  all  the  way, 
That  it  a  heaven  is  to  heare.  .  .  . 


Now  ryse  up,  Eliza,  decked  as  thou  art 

in  royall  aray ; 
And  now  ye  daintie  Damsells  may  depart 

Eche  one  her  way. 

206 


I  feare,  I  have  troubled  your  troupes  to  longe  : 
Let  dame  Elisa  thanke  you  for  her  song  : 

And  if  you  come  hether 

When  Damsines  I  gether, 
I  will  part  them  all  you  among. 

EDMUND    SPENSER 

The  Shepheards  Calender  (1579) 


ADONIS 

Even  as  the  sun  with  purple  colour'd  face 
Had  tane  his  last  leave  of  the  weeping  morn, 
Rose  cheekt  Adonis  hied  him  to  the  chase  ; 
Hunting  he  lov'd,  but  love  he  laught  to  scorne. 
Sick-thoughted  Venus  makes  amain  unto  him, 
And  like  a  bold  fac't  suter  gins  to  woe  him. 

Thrice  fairer  then  my  selfe  (thus  she  began) 
The  fields  chiefe  flower,  sweet  above  compare, 
Staine  to  all  Nymphes,  more  lovely  than  a  man, 
More  white  and  red,  than  doves  or  roses  are  ; 
Nature  that  made  thee,  with  her  selfe  at  strife, 
Saith,  that  the  world  hath  ending  with  thy  life. 

Vouchsafe  thou  wonder  to  alight  thy  steed, 
And  reigne  his  proud  head  to  the  saddle-bowe  : 
If  thou  wilt  deigne  this  favour,  for  thy  meed 
A  thousand  hony-secrets  shalt  thou  know  : 
Here  come  and  sit,  where  never  serpent  hisses, 
And  beeing  set,  He  smother  thee  with  kisses. 

W.  SHAKESPEARE 

Venus  and  Adonis  (1593.  Edition  1607) 
207 


NAUSICAA 


Here  was  he 

Put  to  his  wisedome,  if  her  virgin  knee, 
He  should  be  bold,  but  kneeling,  to  embrace  ; 
Or  keepe  aloofe,  and  trie  with  words  of  grace, 
In  humblest  suppliance,  if  he  might  obtaine 
Some  cover  for  his  nakedness  and  gaine 
Her  grace  to  shew  and  guide  him  to  the  Towne. 
The  last  he  best  thought,  to  be  worth  his  owne, 
In  weighing  both  well :  to  keepe  still  aloofe, 
And    give    with    soft    words    his    desires    their 

proofe.  .  .  . 

"  Let  me  beseech  (O  Queene)  this  truth  of  thee ; 
Are  you  of  mortal,  or  the  deified  race  ? 
If  of  the  Gods,  that  th'ample  heavens  embrace  ; 
I  can  resemble  you  to  none  above, 
So  neare  as  to  the  chast-borne  birth  of  Jove, 
The  beamie  Cynthia.  Her  you  full  present, 
In  grace  of  every  God-like  lineament : 
Her  goodly  magnitude  ;  and  all  the  addresse 
You  promise  of  her  very  perfectnesse. 
If  sprung  of  humanes,  that  inhabite  earth  ; 
Thrice  blest  are  both  the  authors  of  your  birth  ; 
Thrice  blest  your  brothers,  that  in  your  deserts, 
Must,  even  to  rapture,  beare  delighted  hearts  ; 
To  see,  so  like  the  first  trim  of  a  tree. 
Your  forme  adorn  a  dance.  But  most  blest  he 
Of  all  that  breathe,  that  hath  the  gift  t'engage 
Your  bright  necke  in  the  yoke  of  mariage ; 
And  decke  his  house  with  your  commanding 
merit. 

208 


I  have  not  seene  a  man  of  so  much  spirit. 
Nor  man,  nor  woman,  I  did  ever  see, 
At  all  parts  equall  to  the  parts  in  thee. 
T'  enjoy  your  sight,  doth  Admiration  seise 
My  eies,  and  apprehensive  faculties. 
Lately  in  Delos  .  .  . 

...  I  beheld 

The  burthern  of  a  Palme,  whose  issue  sweld 
About  Apollos  Phane,  and  that  put  on 
A  grace  like  thee  ;  for  Earth  had  never  none 
Of  all  her  Sylvane  issue  so  adorn'd  : 
Into  amaze  my  very  soule  was  turnd 
To  give  it  observation ;  as  now  thee 
To  view  (O  Virgin)  a  stupiditie 
Past  admiration  strikes  me  ;  joynd  with  feare 
To  do  a  suppliants  due,  and  prease  so  neare 
As  to  embrace  thy  knees.  .  .  . 
God  give  you,  in  requitall,  all  th'amends 
Your  heart  can  wish 

She  answerd  :  "  Stranger  !  I  discerne  in  thee, 
Nor  Sloth)  nor  Folly  raignes  ;  .  .  . 
Thou  shalt  not  want." 

HOMER 

Odyssey 
Trans.  George  Chapman  (1614) 


MRS.  KATHERINE  PHILLIPS 

We  allow'd  You  Beauty,  and  we  did  submit 

To  all  the  Tyrannies  of  it ; 
Ah  !  Cruel  Sex,  will  you  depose  us  too  in  Wit  ? 

Orinda  does  in  that  too  raign, 
209 


Does  Man  behind  her  in  Proud  Triumph  draw, 
And  Cancel  great  Apollo's  Salick  Law. 

We  our  old  Title  plead  in  vain, 
Man  may  be  Head,  but  Woman's  now  the  Brain. 

ABRAHAM   COWLEY 

On  Orinda's  Poems  (1668) 


EVERYBODY 


His  Art  is  nothing  but  delightfull  cozenage,  whose  rules 
are  smoothing  and  garded  with  perjurie  ;  whose  scope  is 
to  make  men  fooles  in  teaching  them  to  over-value  them- 
selves, and  to  tickle  his  friends  to  death.  This  man  is  a  Por- 
ter of  all  good  tales,  and  mends  them  in  the  carriage ; .  . . 
When  he  walks  with  his  friend,  hee  sweares  to  him,  that 
no  man  els  is  looked  at;  no  man  talked  of;  and  that  whom- 
soever he  vouchsafes  to  looke  on  and  nod  to,  is  graced 
enough.  .  .  .  Sometimes  even  in  absence  hee  extolleth 
his  patron,  where  hee  may  presume  of  safe  conveiance  to 
his  eares.  ...  In  short,  he  is  ...  the  eare-wig  of  the 
mightie. 

JOSEPH   HALL 

Characters  of  Vertues  and  Vices  (1608) 


210 


FEMALE  PLEASURES 


HUNTIN' 

Thro'  the  green  Oake-wood  on  a  lucent  Morn 
Turn'd  the  sweet  mazes  of  a  silver  Horn  : 
A  Stag  rac'd  past,  and  hallowing  hard  behind, 
Dian's  young  Nymphs  ran  fleeting  down  the  Wind. 
A  light-foot  Host,  green-kirtl'd  all  they  came, 
And  leapt,  and  rollickt,  as  some  mountain  Streame 
Sings  cold  and  ruffling  thro'  the  Forrest  Glades  ; 
So  ran,  so  sang,  so  hoyted  the  Moone's  Maids. 
Light  as  young  Lev'retts  skip  their  buskin'd  feet, 
Spurning  th'enamell'd  Sward  as  they  did  fleet. 
The  Wind  that  buss'd  their  cheekes  was  all  the  Kiss 
Was  suffer'd  by  the  Girles  of  Artemis, 
Whose  traffique  was  in  Woods,  whom  the  wing'd  Boy 
Leauguer'd  in  vain,  whom  Man  would  ne're  injoy, 
Whose  Bed  greene  Moss  beneath  the  forrest  Tree, 
Whose  jolly  Pleasure  all  in  Liberty, 
To  sport  with  fellow  Maids  in  maiden  cheere, 
To  swim  the  Brook,  and  hollo  after  Deer. 
Thus,  the  winds  wantoning  their  flying  Curies, 
So  rac'd,  so  chas'd,  those  most  Delightfull  Girles. 

ANON 

The  Chase  (c.  1675) 
211 


With  Horns  and  with  Hounds  I  waken  the  Day, 

And  hye  to  my  Woodland- Walks  away ; 

I  tuck  up  my  Robe,  and  am  buskin'd  soon, 

And  tie  to  my  Forehead  a  wexing  Moon ; 

I  course  the  fleet  Stag,  unkennel  the  Fox, 

And  chase  the  wild  Goats  o'er  Summits  of  Rocks, 

With  shouting  and  hooting  we  pierce  thro'  the  Sky  ; 

And  Eccho  turns  Hunter,  and  doubles  the  Cry. 

JOHN  DRYDEN,  The  Secular  Masque  (1700) 


I  have  very  frequently  the  opportunity  of  seeing  a  Rural 
Andromache,  who  came  up  to  town  last  Winter,  and  is  one 
of  the  greatest  Fox-hunters  in  the  Country.  She  talks  of 
Hounds  and  Horses,  and  makes  nothing  of  leaping  over  a 
Six-bar  Gate.  If  a  man  tells  her  a  waggish  story,  she  gives 
him  a  Push  with  her  Hand  in  jest,  and  calls  him  an  im- 
pudent Dog.  JOSEPH  ADDISON,  Spectator  (1711) 


KNITTING 
II  faut  que  les  femmes  tricotent.     NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE 

CHICKEN-WINGS 

Lord  Byron  ...  did  not  like  to  see  women  eat,  and  .  .  . 
he  had  another  reason  for  not  liking  to  dine  with  them ; 
which  was,  that  they  always  had  the  wings  of  the  chicken. 

LEIGH  HUNT 

Lord  Byron  and  Some  of  his  Contemporaries  (1828) 
212 


UNWHOLESOME  FARE 

A  woman  should  never  be  seen  eating  or  drinking,  unless 
it  be  lobster  salad  and  champagne,  the  only  truly  feminine 
viands. 

LORD  BYRON 
Letter  to  Lady  Melbourne  (1812) 


LOOKING  OUT  OF  WINDOWS 

Bow  Street,  where  the  thieves  are  examined,  is  within  a 
few  yards  of  us.  Mary  had  not  been  here  four  and  twenty 
hours  before  she  saw  a  thief.  She  sits  at  the  window  work- 
ing ;  and  casually  throwing  out  her  eyes,  she  sees  a  con- 
course of  people  coming  this  way,  with  a  constable  to 
conduct  the  solemnity.  These  little  incidents  agreeably 
diversify  a  female  life. 

CHARLES  LAMB 

Letter  to  Miss  Wordsworth  (1817) 


To  see  passengers  goe  by  in  some  great  Rode  way,  or 
boates  in  a  river,  to  oversee  a  Faire,  a  Market  place,  or 
out  of  a  pleasant  window  into  some  thorough-fare  streete, 
to  behold  a  continuall  concourse,  a  promiscuous  rout, 
comming  and  going,  or  a  multitude  of  spectators  at  a 
Theater,  a  Maske,  or  some  such  like  shew. 

ROBERT  BURTON 

The  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  (1621.  Edition  1632) 
213 


LOOKING  INTO  WINDOWS 

Looking  in  at  the  shop  windows  of  Broadway  the  whole 
forenoon,  flatting  the  flesh  of  my  nose  on  the  thick  plate 
glass. 

WALT  WHITMAN 

Song  of  Myself  (1855) 


GAMBLING 

It  is  generally  remarked,  that  when  the  odious  and  corrupt- 
ing propensity  of  gambling  takes  possession  of  the  female 
mind,  its  ravages  are  still  more  unsparing  than  upon  the 
characters  and  feelings  of  men. 

ANON 
Edinburgh  Review  (Jan.  1825) 


MEETING  GENTLEMEN 


The  wives  and  daughters  of  the  Brahmans,  ...  go  bare- 
footed ;  but  wear  a  great  many  ornaments,  which  generally 
consist  of  three  or  four  bracelets  of  brass,  a  necklace  of  gold 
or  precious  stones,  and  ear-rings  of  gold  or  of  diamonds. 
They  bind  their  hair  together  in  a  roll  on  the  top  of  the 
head,  and  paint  on  the  forehead  some  sacred  mark.  They 
bear  in  their  hand  an  umbrella  of  palm-leaves,  which 
they  always  hold  before  their  face  when  they  meet  any 
of  the  male  sex.  They,  however,  turn  speedily  round,  in 

214 


general,  when  a  man  has  passed  them,  and  seem  to  cast 
a  wistful  look  towards  him.  This  is  a  plain  proof  that  in 
every  country  of  the  globe  the  daughters  of  Eve  are 
subject  to  the  like  weaknesses. 

FRA  PAOLINO  DA  SAN  BARTOLOMEO 

Voyage  to  the  East  Indies  (1796) 
(Trans.  W.  Johnson) 


BENEVOLENT  AFFECTIONS 

Nothing,  certainly,  is  so  ornamental  and  delightful  in 
women  as  the  benevolent  affections ;  but  time  cannot  be 
filled  up,  and  life  employed,  with  high  and  impassioned 
virtues. ...  A  scene  of  distress  and  anguish  is  an  occasion 
where  the  finest  qualities  of  the  female  mind  may  be 
displayed ;  but  it  is  a  monstrous  exaggeration  to  tell 
women  that  they  are  born  only  for  scenes  of  distress  and 
anguish.  .  .  .  We  know  women  are  to  be  compassionate ; 
but  they  cannot  be  compassionate  from  eight  o'clock  in 
the  morning  till  twelve  at  night : — and  what  are  they  to 
do  in  the  interval  ? 

SYDNEY  SMITH 

Female  Education  (1809) 


LANGUISHING  ARDOUR 

I  know  not  how  to  call  it,  but  there  is  a  meltingness  of 
Disposition,  and  affectionateness  of  Devotion,  an  easie 
Sensibility,  an  industrious  Alacrity,  a  languishing  Ardour 

215 


in  Piety,  peculiar  to  the  Sex,  which  naturally  renders  them 
Subjects  more  pliable,  to  the  Divine  Grace,  than  Men 
commonly  are ;  So  that  Solomon,  had  reason  to  bestow 
the  Epithete  Gracious,  particularly  on  them. 

THOMAS   KEN 

A  Sermon  preached  at  the  funeral  of  the  .  .  .  Lady 
Margaret  Mainard.  .  .  .  30th  June,  1682 


TOWN  PLEASURES  WITH  GENTLEMEN 

HIPPOLITA  :  To  confine  a  woman  just  in  her  rambling 

Age  !  take  away  her  liberty  at  the  very  time  she  should 

use  it !  O  barbarous  Aunt !  O  unnatural  Father ;  to  shut 

up  a  poor  girl  at  fourteen,  and  hinder  her  budding ;  all 

things  are  ripen'd  by  the  Sun  :  to  shut  up  a  poor  girl 

at  fourteen ! 

PRUE  :  'Tis  true,  Miss,  two  poor  young  creatures  as  we 

are  ! 

HIPPOLITA  :  Not  suffer'd  to  see  a  play  in  a  twelve  month  ! 

PRUE  :  Nor  to  go  to  Ponchinello  nor  Paradise  ! 

HIP.  :  Nor  to  take  a  Ramble  to  the  Park  nor  Mulbery- 

garden ! 

PRUE  :  Nor  to  Tatnam-Court  nor  Islington  ! 

HIP.  :  Nor  to  eat  a  sillybub  in  new  Spring-garden  with  a 

Cousin  ! 

PRUE  :  Nor  to  drink  a  Pint  of  Wine  with  a  Friend  at  the 

Prince  in  the  Sun  ! 

HIP.  :  Nor  to  hear  a  Fiddle  in  good  Company ! 

PRUE  :  Nor  to  hear  the  Organs  and  Tongs  at  the  Gun  in 

Moorfields  \ 

216 


HIP.  :  Nay,  not  suffer'd  to  go  to  Church,  because  the  men 

are  sometimes  there  !  Little  did  I  think  I  should  ever  have 

long'd  to  go  to  Church ! 

PRUE  :  Or  I  either,  but  between  two  maids  ! 

HIP.  :  Nor  see  a  man  ! 

PRUE  :  Nor  come  near  a  man  ! 

HIP.  :  Nor  hear  of  a  man  ! 

PRUE  :  No,  Miss,  but  to  be  deny'd  a  man,  and  to  have 

no  use  at  all  of  a  man  ! 

WILLIAM  WYCHERLEY 

The  Gentleman  Dancing- Master  (1672) 


BEING  LOVED  BY  ANGELS 

Let  the  Women  have  the  power  of  their  heads,  because  of  the 
Angels.  The  reason  of  the  words,  because  of  the  Angels,  is 
this  ;  The  Greek  Church  held  an  Opinion  that  the  Angels 
fell  in  love  with  Women. 

JOHN  SELDEN 

Table  Talk  (1634-54  :  pub.  1689) 


SPENDING  MONEY 

A  woman  who  gets  the  command  of  money  for  the  first 
time  upon  her  marriage,  has  such  a  gust  in  spending  it, 
that  she  throws  it  away  with  great  profusion. 

JAMES   BOSWELL 
Life  of  Johnson  (1791) 
217 


CEREMONY 

Ceremony  keeps  up  all  things ;  'Tis  like  a  Penny-Glass 
to  a  rich  Spirit,  or  some  Excellent  Water,  without  it  the 
water  were  spilt,  the  Spirit  lost. 

Of  all  people  Ladies  have  no  reason  to  cry  down 
Ceremonies,  for  they  take  themselves  slighted  without  it. 
And  were  they  not  used  with  Ceremony,  with  Comple- 
ments and  Addresses,  with  Legs,  and  Kissing  of  Hands, 
they  were  the  pittyfullest  Creatures  in  the  World. 

JOHN  SELDEN 
Table  Talk  (1634-54  :  pub.  1689) 


WASHING-DAY 

The  servants  then  (commanded)  soone  obaid  ; 
Fetcht  Coach,  and  Mules  Joynd  in  it.  Then  the  Maid 
Brought  from  the  chamber  her  rich  weeds,  and  laid 
All  up  in  Coach  :  in  which,  her  mother  plac't 
A  maund  of  victles,  varied  well  in  taste, 
And  other  junkets.  Wine  she  likewise  filld 
Within  a  goat-skin  bottle,  and  distilld 
Sweete  and  moist  oile  into  a  golden  Cruse, 
Both  for  her  daughters,  and  her  handmaids  use ; 
To  soften  their  bright  bodies,  when  they  rose 
Cleansd  from  their  cold  baths.  Up  to  Coach  then  goes 
Th'  observed  Maid;  takes  both  the  scourge  and  raines ; 
And  to  her  side,  her  handmaid  strait  attaines, 
Nor  these  alone,  but  other  virgins,  grac't 
The  Nuptiall  Chariot.  The  whole  Bevie  plac't ; 
Nausicaa  scourg'd  to  make  the  Coach  Mules  runne 
218 


That  neigh'd  and  pac'd  their  usuall  speed  :  and  soone 
Both  maids  and  weeds  brought  to  the  river  side  ; 
Where  Baths  for  all  the  yeare,  their  use  supplide. 
Whose  waters  were  so  pure,  they  would  not  staine ; 
But  still  ran  faire  forth ;  and  did  more  remaine. 
Apt  to  purge  staines,  for  that  purg'd  staine  within, 
Which,  by  the  waters  pure  store,  was  not  seen. 
These  (here  arriv'd)  the  Mules  uncoach'd,  and  drave 
Up  to  the  gulphie  river's  shore,  that  gave 
Sweete  grasse  to  them.  The  maids  from  Coach  then 

tooke 

Thier  cloaths,  and  steept  them  in  the  sable  brooke. 
Then  put  them  into  springs,  and  trod  them  cleane, 
With  cleanly  feet ;  adventring  wagers  then, 
Who  should  have  soonest,  and  most  cleanly  done. 

When  having  throughly  cleansd,  they  spred  them  on 
The  flood's  shore,  all  in  order.  And  then,  where 
The  waves  the  pibbles  wash'd,  and  ground  was  cleare, 
They  bath'd  themselves  ;  and  all  with  glittring  oile, 
Smooth'd  their  white  skins  :  refreshing  then  their  toile 
With  pleasant  dinner,  by  the  rivers  side. 
Yet  still  watcht  when  the  Sunne  their  cloaths  had 

dride. 

Till  which  time  (having  din'd)  Nausicae 
With  other  virgins,  did  at  stool-ball  play ; 
Their  shoulder-reaching  head-tires  laying  by. 
Nausicae  (with  wrists  of  Ivory) 
The  liking  stroke  strooke  ;  singing  first  a  song ; 
(As  custome  orderd)  and  amidst  the  throng, 
Made  such  a  shew ;  and  so  past  all  was  scene ; 
As  when  the  Chast-borne,  Arrow-loving  Queene, 
Along  the  mountaines  gliding ;  either  over 
Spartan  Taygetus,  whose  tops  farre  discover ; 
219 


Or  Eurymanthus  ;  in  the  wilde  Bores  chace  ; 

Or  swift-hov'd  Hart ;  and  with  her,  Joves  faire  race 

(The  field  Nymphs)  sporting.  Amongst  whom,  to  see 

How  farre  Diana  had  prioritie 

(though  all  were  faire)  for  fairnesse ;  yet  of  all, 

(As  both  by  head  and  forhead  being  more  tall) 

Latona  triumpht  since  the  dullest  sight. 

Might  easly  judge,  whom  her  pains  brought  to  light ; 

Nausicaa  so  (whom  never  husband  tam'd) 

Above  them  all,  in  all  the  beauties  flam'd. 

HOMER 

Odyssey.  Book  VI 
Trans.  George  Chapman  (1614) 


AT  BATH 

Hard  by  the  Pump-room,  is  a  coffee-house  for  the  ladies  ; 
but  my  aunt  says,  young  girls  are  not  admitted,  insomuch 
as  the  conversation  turns  upon  politics,  scandal,  phil- 
osophy, and  other  subjects  above  our  capacity ;  but  we 
are  allowed  to  accompany  them  to  the  booksellers'  shops, 
which  are  charming  places  of  resort;  where  we  read  novels, 
plays,  pamphlets,  and  news-papers  . . .  and  in  these  offices 
of  intelligence  (as  my  brother  calls  them)  all  the  reports 
of  the  day,  and  all  the  private  transactions  of  the  Bath,  are 
first  entered  and  discussed.  From  the  booksellers'  shop, 
we  make  a  tour  through  the  milleners  and  toymen ;  and 
commonly  stop  at  Mr.  Gill's,  the  pastry-cook,  to  take  a 
jelly,  a  tart,  or  a  small  bason  of  vermicelli. 

TOBIAS  SMOLLETT 
Humphrey  Clinker  (1771) 

220 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS 

I  danced  the  polka  and  Cellarius, 

Spun  glass,  stuffed  birds,  and  modelled  flowers  in  wax. 

ELIZABETH  BARRETT  BROWNING 

Aurora  Leigh  (1856) 


AN  AGREEABLE  MAN  IN  A  HACKNEY-COACH 

MRS  FORESIGHT  :  I  own  it,  I  think  there's  no  Happiness 
like  conversing  with  an  agreeable  Man ;  I  don't  quarrel 
at  that,  nor  I  don't  think  but  your  Conversation  was  very 
innocent ;  but  the  Place  is  publick,  and  to  be  seen  with 
a  Man  in  a  Hackney-Coach  is  scandalous. 

WILLIAM  CONGREVE 

Love  for  Love  (1695) 


A  HUSBAND 

Miss  :  What,  and  must  not  I  have  e'er  a  Husband  then  ? 
What,  must  I  go  to  Bed  to  Nurse  again,  and  be  a  Child  as 
long  as  she's  an  old  Woman  ?  Indeed,  but  I  won't.  For 
now  my  mind  is  set  upon  a  Man,  I  will  have  a  Man  some 
way  or  other.  Oh  !  methinks  I'm  sick  when  I  think  of  a 
Man;  and  if  I  can't  have  one,  I  wou'd  go  to  sleep  all  my 
Life  :  For  when  I'm  awake  it  makes  me  wish  and  long, 
and  I  don't  know  for  what — And  I'd  rather  be  always 
asleep,  than  sick  with  thinking. 

221 


FORESIGHT  :  O  fearful !  I  think  the  Girl's  influenc'd  too, — 
Hussy,  you  shall  have  a  Rod. 

Miss :  A  fiddle  of  a  Rod,  I'll  have  a  Husband  !  and  if 
you  won't  get  me  one,  I'll  get  one  for  myself;  I'll  marry 
our  Robin  the  Butler,  he  says  he  loves  me,  and  he's  a 
handsome  Man,  and  shall  be  my  Husband :  I  warrant  he'll 
be  my  Husband,  and  thank  me  too,  for  he  told  me  so. 

Ibid. 


CHILD-BEARING  AND  SHUTTLECOCKS 


We  things  cal'd  women,  only  made  for  shew 
And  pleasure,  created  to  beare  children, 
And  play  at  shuttle-cocke. 

JOHN  MARSTON 
The  Tragedie  of  Sophonisba  (1606) 


JEWELS 

This  evening  my  wife  did  with  great  pleasure  shew  me  her 
stock  of  jewels,  encreased  by  the  ring  she  hath  made  lately 
as  my  Valentine's  gift  this  year,  a  Turky  stone  set  with 
diamonds  :  and,  with  this  and  what  she  had,  she  reckons 
that  she  hath  above  £150  worth  of  jewels,  of  one  kind  or 
other  ;  and  I  am  glad  of  it,  for  it  is  fit  the  wretch  should 
have  something  to  content  herself  with. 

SAMUEL  PEPYS 

Diary  (Feb.  24,  1668) 

222 


DANCING,  CHESS,  DICE,  AND  THE  PROMENADE 

Still  unaccomplish'd  may  the  Maid  be  thought. 

Who  gracefully  to  Dance  was  never  taught : . . . 

To  raffle  prettily,  or  slur  a  Dye, 

Implies  both  Cunning  &  Dexterity. 

Nor  is't  amiss  at  Chess  to  be  expert. 

For  Games,  most  thoughtful,  sometimes  most  divert. 

Learn  ev'ry  Game,  you'll  find  it  prove  of  use  ; 

Parties  begun  at  Play,  may  Love  produce. 

But,  easier  'tis  to  learn  how  Bets  to  lay, 

Than  how  to  keep  your  Temper  while  you  play. . . . 

Then,  base  Desire  of  Gain,  then,  Rage  appears, 

Quarrells  and  Brawls  arise,  and  anxious  Fears  ; 

Then,  Clamours  and  Revilings  reach  the  Sky, 

While  losing  Gamesters  all  the  Gods  defie. 

Then  horrid  Oaths  are  utter'd  ev'ry  Cast ; 

They  grieve,  and  curse,  and  storm,  may  weep  at  last. 

Good  Jove  avert  such  shameful  Faults  as  these, 

Frome  ev'ry  Nymph  whose  Heart's  inclined  to  please. . . . 

Tho'  Martial  Fields  ill  sute  your  tender  Frames, 
Nor  may  you  swim  in  Tiber's  rapid  streams  ; 
Yet  when  Sol's  burning  Wheels  from  Leo  drive, 
And  at  the  glowing  Virgin's  Sign  arrive, 
'Tis  both  allow'd,  and  fit,  you  should  repair 
To  pleasant  Walks,  and  breathe  refreshing  Air. 
To  Pompey's  Gardens,  or  the  shady  Groves 
Which  Caesar  honours,  and  which  Phoebus  loves 
To  Isis  Fane,  to  Theatres  resort ; 
And  in  the  Circus  see  the  noble  Sport. 
In  ev'ry  publick  Place,  by  turns,  be  shown  ; 
In  vain  you're  Fair,  while  you  remain  unknown. 

OVID,  Art  of  Love  (c.  2  B.C.) 
Trans.  William  Congreve  (1709) 
223 


BEING  CARRIED  AWAY 

Now  they  [the  Barbarians]  say  that  in  their  judgment, 
though  it  is  an  act  of  wrong  to  carry  away  women  by  force, 
it  is  a  folly  to  set  one's  heart  on  taking  vengeance  for  their 
rape,  and  the  wise  course  is  to  pay  no  regard  when  they 
have  been  carried  away ;  for  it  is  evident  that  they  would 
never  be  carried  away  if  they  were  not  themselves  willing 
to  go. 

HERODOTUS 

History  (5th  cent.  B.C.) 
Trans.  G.  C.  Macaulay 


FURNISHINGS,  CONFECTIONS,  PLANTS, 
MERRY  MEETINGS 

Now  for  women  instead  of  laborious  studies,  they  have 
curious  needleworkes,  cut-workes,  spinning,  bone-lace, 
and  many  pretty  devices  of  their  own  making,  to  adorn 
their  houses,  Cushions,  Carpets,  Chaires,  Stooles  . . .  con- 
fections, conserves,  distillations,  &c.  which  they  shew  to 
strangers.  .  .  .  This  they  have  to  busie  themselves  about, 
houshold  offices,  &c.  neate  gardens,  full  of  exotick,  versi- 
colour,  diversely  varied,  sweet  smelling  flowers,  and  plants 
in  all  kinds,  which  they  are  most  ambitious  to  get,  curious 
to  preserve  and  keep,  proud  to  possesse,  and  much  many 
times  bragge  of.  Their  merry  meetings  and  frequent  visita- 
tions, mutuall  invitations  in  good  townes,  I  voluntarily 
omit,  which  are  so  much  in  use,  gossipping  among  the 
meaner  sort,  &c. 

ROBERT  BURTON 

The  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  (1621.  Edition  1632) 
224 


FRATERNAL 


BORN  TO  FRIENDS 


I  was  much  pleased  with  the  tale  that  you  told  me  of  being 
tutor  to  your  sisters.  I,  who  have  no  sisters  or  brothers, 
look  with  some  degree  of  innocent  envy  on  those  who 
may  be  said  to  be  born  to  friends. 

JAMES  BOSWELL 

Life  of  Johnson 
(1790 


FOND  BROTHER 


The  affection  which  I  bear  to  you  and  Hannah  is  the  source 
of  the  greatest  enjoyment  that  I  have  in  the  world.  It 
is  my  strongest  feeling.  It  is  that  which  will  determine 
the  whole  course  of  my  life.  It  has  made  me  a  better  man 
and  a  far  happier  man  than  anything  else  could  have  made 
me.  The  very  regret  which  I  feel  for  your  absence  is  a 
more  delightful  sensation  than  the  pleasure  which  I  take 
HP  225 


in  other  people's  society.  .  .  .  The  pleasures  of  dissi- 
pation end  in  disgust,  those  in  vanity  pall  with  repetition. 
Ambition  itself  passes  away.  But  my  love  for  my  sweet 
sisters  . . .  becomes  stronger  and  stronger  from  day  to  day, 
and  from  hour  to  hour.  Having  been  the  most  restless  and 
aspiring  of  human  creatures,  I  feel  that  I  would  not  only 
without  regret  but  with  perfect  cheerfulness  and  satisfac- 
tion retire  in  their  society  to  an  obscurity  in  which  my 
name  should  never  be  heard.  Wealth,  power,  fame, 
become  as  nothing  to  me  compared  with  their  most  sweet 
and  precious  affection. 

THOMAS  BABINGTON   MACAULAY 

Letter  to  his  sister  Margaret 


ADORING  SISTER 


Living  as  I  do  with  a  man  who  will,  I  fully  believe,  before 
long  be  acknowledged  by  the  world  to  be  the  great  man 
I  now  know  him  to  be,  I  cannot  help  regretting  that  I 
have  never  endeavoured  to  preserve  some  record  of  his 
conversation ;  his  talents  in  conversation  being  equal,  if 
not  superior,  to  any  other  he  possesses.  I  certainly  never 
listen  to  any  one  (and  I  have  listened  to  some  of  whom  the 
world  thinks  highly)  who  brings  into  the  ordinary  inter- 
course of  society,  and  applies  to  every  subject,  the  mind, 
the  intellectual  power,  I  have  never  failed  to  find  in 
him.  . .  . 

His  conversation  is  often  extremely  lively  and  humorous 
226 


...  I  do  not  wonder  that  he  does  not  like  to  hide  this 
talent  under  a  bushel,  for  it  is  certainly  the  cleverest 
nonsense  I  ever  heard.  ...  I  intend  making  this  a  scrap- 
book  about  him  for  my  own  amusement  and  that  of  others 
in  time  to  come.  .  .  .  How  sadly  shall  I,  perhaps.,  in  future 
days,  look  on  these  records  of  the  past  gay  years  !  But  if 
my  dearest,  dearest  Tom  still  loves  me,  and  I  am  not 
separated  from  him,  I  feel  now  as  if  I  could  bear  anything. 
But  the  idea  of  being  separated  from  him  is  what  I  cannot 
support.  He  has  given  me  tastes  which  no  other  person 
can  satisfy,  he  has  for  years  been  the  object  of  my  whole 
heart,  every  occupation  almost  has  had  him  for  its  object 
and  end  in  some  manner,  and  without  him  would  be  void 
of  interest. 

I  think  I  was  about  twelve  when  I  first  became  very 
fond  of  him,  and  from  that  time  my  affection  for  him  has 
gone  on  increasing  during  a  period  of  seven  years.  I  never 
shall  forget  my  delight  and  enchantment  when  I  first  found 
that  I  could  talk  to  him,  and  that  he  seemed  to  like  talking 
to  me.  His  manner  indeed  was  very  flattering  to  such  a 
child  as  I  was,  for  he  always  seemed  to  take  as  much  pains 
and  exert  himself  as  much  to  amuse  and  please  me,  to 
explain  anything  I  wished  to  know,  or  inform  me  on  any 
subject,  as  he  could  have  done  to  the  greatest  person  in 
the  land.  .  .  . 

I  have  been  hearing  a  good  deal  of  speech-making 
to-day,  which  has  made  me  wild  to  hear  Tom.  ...  It 
seems  to  me  now  as  if  it  would  be  almost  too  much  for 
me  to  witness  that  mightiest  of  all  triumphs,  the  triumph 
of  mind  over  mind,  to  hear  those  burning  words,  those 
streams  of  pure  and  lofty  eloquence,  to  listen  to  music 
dearer  to  my  ears  than  Pasta  could  ever  make,  in  the 
enthusiastic  applause  of  all  about  me,  and  to  feel  that  he 

227 


who  was  exercising  this  mighty  influence  prized  the 
happy  tears  of  my  proud,  triumphant,  devoted  affection 
more  than  the  compliments  and  applause  of  the  first  men 
in  his  country.  And  oh  !  how  almost  too  happy  to  feel 
that  in  that  heart  beating  so  high  in  the  consciousness  and 
the  triumph  of  unrivalled  powers — in  his  very  heart  of 
hearts — was  reserved  a  place  for  me.  Dearest,  dearest, 
dearest,  I  feel  as  if  I  could  not  love  him  enough.  .  . . 

I  have  just  been  looking  round  our  little  drawing-room, 
as  if  trying  to  impress  every  inch  of  it  on  my  memory,  and 
thinking  how  in  future  years  it  will  rise  before  my  mind 
as  the  scene  of  many  hours  of  light-hearted  ease  and  mirth ; 
how  I  shall  see  him  again,  lolling  indolently  on  the  old 
blue  sofa,  or  strolling  round  the  narrow  confines  of  our 
room,  who  was  all  the  world  to  me.  With  such  a  scene 
will  come  the  remembrance  of  his  beaming,  animated 
countenance,  happy,  affectionate  smile,  and  joyous  laugh 
.  .  .  grave  or  gay,  making  bad  puns,  rhymes,  riddles,  and 
talking  all  sorts  of  nonsense,  or  "  more  than  mortal  wise," 
eloquent  and  original,  pouring  out  from  the  stores  of  his 
full  mind  in  his  own  peculiarly  beautiful  and  expressive 
language.  .  .  .  How  strange  !  I  sometimes  think,  as  those 
enchanting  talents  which  in  various  ways  delight  the 
world  are  exerted  and  displayed  for  my  amusement  or 
instruction — how  strange  that  I,  of  all  people,  should  be 
so  intimately  connected  with  and  so  dearly  love,  and 
above  all  be  loved  by  him  !  But  so  it  is. 

MARGARET  MACAULAY 

Recollections  of  T.EM.  (1831-2) 


228 


GAMES 


BOWLS 

My  Lord  Brookes  us'd  to  be  much  resorted  to  by  those 
of  the  preciser  sort,  who  had  got  a  powerful  hand  over 
him ;  yet  they  would  allow  him  Christian  libertie  for  his 
recreations  :  but  being  at  bowles  one  day,  in  much  com- 
pany, and  following  his  cast  with  much  eagernesse,  he 
cryed,  "  Rubbe,  rubbe,  rubbe,  rubbe,  rubbe."  His  chap- 
laine  (a  very  strict  mann)  runns  presently  to  him  :  and  in 
the  hearing  of  diverse,  "  O  good  my  Lord,  leave  that  to 
God — you  must  leave  that  to  God  !  "  sayes  he. 

SIR   NICHOLAS   LESTRANGE 
Merry  Passages  and  Jests  (1630-55) 


He  was  the  greatest  gallant  of  his  time,  and  the  greatest 
gamester,  both  for  bowling  and  cards,  so  that  no  shop- 
keeper would  trust  him  for  6J,  as  to-day  for  instance  he 
might,  by  winning,  be  worth  £200,  the  next  day  he  might 
not  be  worth  half  so  much,  or  perhaps  be  minus  nihile. 
He  was  one  of  the  best  bowlers  of  his  time  in  England. 
His  sisters  comeing  to  the  Peccadillo  bowling  green, 
crying  for  the  feare  he  should  loose  all  their  portions. 

JOHN   AUBREY 

Brief  Lives  :  Sir  John  Suckling  (c.  1680) 
229 


FOOTBALL 

Football  is  nothyng  but  beastely  fury  and  extreme 
violence,  whereof  procedeth  hurte,  and  consequently 
rancour  and  malice  do  remayne  with  thym  that  be 
wounded,  wherfore  it  is  to  be  put  in  perpetuall  silence. 

SIR  THOMAS  ELYOT 
The  Boke  Called  the  Governour  (1531) 


STOOLBALL 

A  time  there  is  for  all,  my  mother  often  sayes, 
When  she  with  skirts  tuckt  very  hie,  with  gyrles  at 
stoolball  playes. 

^    J  SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY 

Dialogue  between  Two  Shepheards  (1586) 


CHESS 

Chesse-play  is  a  good  and  witty  exercise  of  the  minde  for 
some  kind  of  men,  and  fit  for  such  melancholy  ...  as  are 
idle,  and  have  extravagant  thoughts  impertinent  thoughts, 
or  troubled  with  cares,  nothing  better  to  distract  their 
minde  and  alter  their  meditations,  invented  (some  say) 
by  the  general  of  an  army  in  a  famine,  to  keep  his  souldiers 
from  mutiny  but ...  it  may  doe  more  harme  than  good ; 
it  is  a  game  too  troublesome  for  some  men's  braines,  too 
testy  full  of  anxiety,  all  out  as  bad  as  study ;  besides,  it  is  a 
cholericke  game,  and  very  offensive  to  him  that  looseth 

230 


the  Mate.  William  the  Conquerour  in  his  yonger  years, 
playing  at  Chesse  with  the  Prince  of  France,  .  .  .  losing  a 
Mate,  knocked  the  Chessboard  about  his  pate,  which 
was  a  cause  afterward  of  much  enmity  between  them. 
...  A  sport  fit  for  idle  Gentlemen,  Souldiers  in  Garrison, 
and  Courtiers  that  have  naught  but  Love  matters  to  busie 
themselves  about,  but  not  altogether  so  convenient  for 
such  as  are  students. 

ROBERT   BURTON 

The  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  (1621.  Edition  1632) 


Memorandum  :  he  would  say  that  he  look't  upon  the  play 
at  chesse  very  fitt  to  be  learn't  and  practiced  by  young 
men,  because  it  would  make  them  to  have  a  foresight  and 
be  of  use  to  them  ...  in  their  ordering  of  humane  affaires. 
Quod  N.B. 

JOHN  AUBREY 

Brief  Lives  :  Francis  Potter  (c.  1680) 


CRICKET 

Cricket  of  late  years  is  become  exceedingly  fashionable, 
being  much  countenanced  by  the  nobility  and  gentlemen 
of  fortune,  who  frequently  join  in  the  diversion ;  this 
game,  which  is  played  with  the  bat  and  the  ball,  consists 
of  single  and  double  wicket ;  the  former  requires  five 
players  on  each  side,  and  the  latter  eleven;  but  the  number 
in  both  instances  can  be  varied  at  the  pleasure  of  the 
two  parties.  At  single  wicket  the  striker  with  his  bat  is  the 
protector  of  the  wicket,  the  opponent  party  stand  in  the 
field  to  catch  or  stop  the  ball,  and  the  bowler,  who  is  one 

231 


of  them,  takes  his  place  by  the  side  of  a  small  batton  or 
stump  set  up  for  that  purpose  two  and  twenty  yards  from 
the  wicket,  and  thence  delivers  the  ball  with  the  intention 
of  beating  it  down.  If  he  proves  successful  the  batsman 
retires  from  the  play,  and  another  of  his  party  succeeds  ; 
if,  on  the  contrary,  the  ball  is  struck  by  the  bat  and  driven 
into  the  field  beyond  the  reach  of  those  who  stand  out  to 
stop  it,  the  striker  runs  to  the  stump  at  the  bowler's 
station,  which  he  touches  with  his  bat  and  then  returns  to 
his  wicket.  If  this  be  performed  before  the  ball  is  thrown 
back,  it  is  called  a  run,  and  one  notch  or  score  is  made  upon 
the  tally  towards  his  game  ;  if,  on  the  contrary,  the  ball  be 
thrown  up  and  the  wicket  beaten  down  with  it ...  before 
the  striker  is  at  home  ...  he  is  declared  to  be  out  of  the 
play  ...  he  is  also  out  if  he  strikes  the  ball  into  the  air, 
and  if  it  be  caught  by  any  of  his  antagonists  before  it  reaches 
the  ground.  .  .  .  When  double  wicket  is  played,  two  bats- 
men go  in  at  the  same  time,  one  at  each  wicket.  .  .  .  Both 
parties  have  two  innings,  and  the  side  that  obtains  the  most 
runs  in  the  double  contest  claims  the  victory.  These  are 
the  general  outlines  of  this  noble  pastime,  but  .  .  .  those 
rules  are  subject  to  frequent  variations,  according  to  the 
joint  determination  of  the  players. 

JOSEPH  STRUTT 

Sports  and  Pastimes  of  the  People  of  England  (1801) 


TRAP-BALL 

Trap-ball,  when  compared  with  cricket,  is  but  a  childish 
pastime. 

Ibid 

232 


PARLOUR  GAMES 

The  ordinary  recreations  which  we  have  in  Winter,  and 
in  most  solitary  times  busie  our  minds  with,  are  Gardes, 
Tables,  and  Dice,  Shovel-board,  Chesse-play,  .  .  .  shuttle- 
cock, balliarde,  musicke,  masks,  singing,  dancing,  ule- 
games,  froliks,  jests,  riddles,  catches,  purposes,  questions 
and  commands,  merry  tales  of  Errant  Knights,  Queenes, 
Lovers,  Lords,  Ladies,  Giants,  Dwarfs,  Theeves,  Chea- 
ters, Witches,  Fayries,  Goblins,  Friers,  &c. . .  and  the  rest, 
which  some  delight  to  heare,  some  to  tell,  all  are  well 
pleased  with.  ROBERT  BURTON 

The  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  (1621.  Edition  1632) 


CRIBBAGE 

Sir  John  Suckling  .  .  .  invented  the  game  of  Cribbidge. 
He  sent  his  cards  to  all  gameing  places  in  the  country, 
which  were  marked  with  private  markes  of  his  :  he  gott 
£20,000  by  this  way.  JOHN  AUBREY 

Brief  Lives  :  Sir  John  Suckling  (c.  1680) 


GOLF 

Hard  by,  in  the  fields  called  the  Links,  the  citizens  of 
Edinburgh  divert  themselves  at  a  game  called  golf,  in 
which  they  use  a  curious  kind  of  bats,  tipt  with  horn,  and 
small  elastic  balls  of  leather,  stuffed  with  feathers,  rather 
less  than  tennis  balls,  but  of  a  much  harder  consist- 
ence  This  they  strike  with  such  force  and  dexterity 

233 


from  one  hole  to  another,  that  they  will  fly  to  an  incredible 
distance.  Of  this  diversion  the  Scots  are  so  fond,  that 
when  the  weather  will  permit,  you  may  see  a  multitude 
of  all  ranks,  from  the  senator  of  justice  to  the  lowest 
tradesman,  mingled  together  in  their  shirts,  and  following 

the  balls  with  the  utmost  eagerness Among  others, 

I  was  shewn  one  particular  set  of  golfers,  the  youngest, 

of  whom  was  turned  of  fourscore They  were  all 

gentlemen  of  independent  fortunes,  who  had  amused 
themselves  with  this  pastime  for  the  best  part  of  a  century, 
without  having  ever  felt  the  least  alarm  from  sickness  or 
disgust ;  and  they  never  went  to  bed,  without  having  each 
the  best  part  of  a  gallon  of  claret  in  his  belly.  Such  un- 
interrupted exercise,  co-operating  with  the  keen  air  from 
the  sea,  must,  without  all  doubt,  keep  the  appetite  always 
on  edge,  and  steel  the  constitution  against  all  the  common 
attacks  of  distemper. 

TOBIAS  SMOLLETT 
Humphry  Clinker  (1771) 


DRAUGHTS 

Johnson,  I  believe,  did  not  play  at  draughts  after  leaving 
College,  by  which  he  suffered  ;  for  it  would  have  afforded 
him  an  innocent  soothing  relief  from  the  melancholy 
which  distressed  him  so  often.  .  .  .  The  game  of  draughts 
we  know  is  peculiarly  calculated  to  fix  the  attention  with- 
out straining  it.  There  is  a  composure  and  gravity  in 
draughts  which  insensibly  tranquillises  the  mind ;  and, 
accordingly,  the  Dutch  are  fond  of  it. 

JAMES  BOSWELL 

Life  of  Johnson  (1791) 
234 


GARDENS 


THAT  INSINUATING  PLEASURE 

The  Turks  who  past  their  dayes  in  Gardens  here,  will 
have  Gardens  also  hereafter,  and  delighting  in  Flowers  on 
earth,  must  have  Lillies  and  Roses  in  Heaven.  In  Garden 
Delights  'tis  not  easie  to  hold  a  Mediocritie ;  that  in- 
sinuating pleasure  is  seldome  without  some  extremity. 
The  Antients  venially  delighted  in  flourishing  Gardens  ; 
Many  were  Florists  that  knew  not  the  true  use  of  a  Flower. 
.  .  .  Some  commendably  affected  Plantations  of  venemous 
Vegetables,  some  confined  their  delights  unto  single 
plants,  and  Cato  seemed  to  dote  upon  Cabbadge ;  While 
the  Ingenuous  delight  of  Tulipists  stands  saluted  with 
hard  language,  even  by  their  own  Professors. 

SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE 

Epistle  Dedicatory  to  The  Garden  of  Cyrus  (1658) 


FRENCH 

I  fmish'd  this  day  with  a  walke  in  the  greate  garden  of 
the  Thuilleries,  rarely  contriv'd  for  privacy,  shade,  or 
company,  by  groves,  plantations  of  tall  trees,  especially 
that  in  the  middle,  being  of  elmes,  the  other  of  mulberys  ; 

235 


and  that  labyrinth  of  cypresse ;  not  omitting  the  noble 
hedges  of  pomegranates,  fountaines,  fishponds,  and  an 
aviary ;  but  above  all  the  artificial  echo,  redoubling  the 
words  so  distinctly,  and  as  it  is  never  without  some  faire 
nymph  singing  to  its  gratefull  returns  :  standing  at  one 
of  the  focus's,  which  is  under  a  tree,  or  little  cabinet  of 
hedges,  the  voice  seems  to  descend  from  the  clouds  ;  at 
another  as  if  it  was  underground.  This  being  at  the  bo  tome 
of  the  garden,  we  were  let  into  another,  which  was  being 
kept  with  all  imaginable  accuratenesse  as  to  the  orangery, 
precious  shrubes,  and  rare  fruites,  seem'd  a  paradise. 

JOHN   EVELYN 

Diary  (Feb.  8,  1644) 


From  hence  about  a  league  farther  we  went  to  see  Cardinal 
Richelieu's  villa  at  Ruell  .  .  .  though  the  house  is  not  of 
the  greatest,  the  gardens  about  it  are  so  magnificent  that 
I  doubt  whether  Italy  has  any  exceeding  it  for  all  rarities 
of  pleasure.  The  garden  nearest  the  pavilion  is  a  parterre, 
having  in  the  middst  divers  noble  brasse  statues,  perpetu- 
ally spouting  water  into  an  ample  bassin,  .  .  . ;  but  what 
is  most  admirable  is  the  vast  enclosure,  and  variety  of 
ground,  in  the  large  garden,  containing  vineyards,  corne- 
fields,  meadows,  groves  (whereof  one  is  of  perennial 
greenes),  and  walkes  of  vast  lengthes,  so  accurately  kept 
and  cultivated,  that  nothing  can  be  more  agreeable.  .  .  . 
This  leads  to  the  Citroniere,  which  is  a  noble  conserve  of 
all  those  rarities  ;  and  at  the  end  of  it  is  the  Arch  of  Con- 
stantine,  painted  on  a  wall  in  oyle,  as  large  as  the  real  one 
at  Rome,  so  well  don  that  even  a  man  skill'd  in  painting 
may  mistake  it  for  stone  and  sculpture.  The  skie  and  hills 

236 


which  seem  to  be  between  the  arches  are  so  naturall  that 
swallows  and  other  birds,  thinking  to  fly  through,  have 
dashed  themselves  against  the  wall.  I  was  infinitely  taken 

with  this  agreeable  cheate,  T7 . ,  ,„  ,  ,    , 

6  Ibid.  (Feb.  27,  1644) 


ITALIAN 

Arriv'd  at  Tivoli,  ye  went  first  to  see  the  Palace  dEste.  . .  . 
In  the  garden  on  the  right  hand  are  16  vast  conchas  of 
marble  jetting  out  waters  ;  .  .  .  Before  the  ascent  of  the 
palace  is  the  famous  fountaine  of  Leda,  and  not  far  from 
that,  foure  sweete  and  delicious  gardens.  Descending 
thence  are  two  pyramids  of  water,  and  in  a  grove  of  trees 
neere  it  the  fountaines.  .  .  .  The  grotts  are  richly  pav'd 
with  pietra-commessa  shells,  corall,  etc. 

Towards  Roma  Triumphans  leades  a  long  and  spacious 
walk,  full  of  fountaines,  under  which  is  historized  the 
whole  Ovidian  Metamorphosis  in  rarely  sculptur'd  mezzo 
relievo.  At  the  end  of  this,  next  the  wall,  is  the  cittie  of 
Rome  as  it  was  in  its  beauty,  of  small  models,  representing 
that  cittie,  with  its  amphiteaters,  naumachia,  thermae, 
temples,  arches,  aqueducts,  streetes,  and  other  magnifi- 
cences, with  a  little  streame  running  thro'  it  for  the  Tyber, 
gushing  out  of  an  urne  next  the  statue  of  the  river.  In 
another  garden  is  a  noble  aviarie,  the  birds  artificial  and 
singing  till  an  owle  appeares,  on  which  they  suddenly 
change  their  notes.  .  .  .  Below  this  are  divers  stews  and 
fish-ponds,  in  one  of  which  is  the  statue  of  Neptune  in 
his  chariot  on  a  sea  horse,  in  another  a  Triton  ;  and  lastly 

a  garden  of  simples.  „.,  ,..      .     f    . 

6  F  Ibid.  (May  6,  1645) 

237 


ENGLISH 


Indeed,  it  is  the  Purest  of  Human  pleasures.  It  is  the 
greatest  Refreshment  to  the  Spirit  of  Man ;  Without 
which.  Buildings  and  Pallaces  are  but  Grosse  Handy- 
Works  :  And  a  Man  shall  ever  see,  that  when  Ages  grow  to 
Civility  and  Elegancie,  Men  come  to  build  Stately,  sooner 
then  to  Garden  finely  :  As  if  Gardening  were  the  Greater 
Perfection.  I  doe  hold  it,  in  the  Royall  Ordering  of 
Gardens,  there  ought  to  be  Gardens  for  all  the  Moneths 
in  the  Yeare  :  In  which,  severally,  Things  of  Beautie  may 
be  then  in  Season.  .  .  . 

For  Gardens  .  .  .  the  Contents  ought  not  well  to  be 
under  Thirty  Acres  of  Ground  ;  And  to  be  divided  into 
three  Parts  :  A  Greene  in  the  Entrance ;  A  Heath  or 
Desart  in  the  Going  Forth ;  And  the  Maine  Garden  in 
the  midst ;  Besides  Alleys  on  both  sides.  .  .  .  The  Greene 
hath  two  pleasures ;  The  one,  because  nothing  is  more 
Pleasant  to  the  Eye  then  Greene  Grasse  kept  finely 
shorne ;  The  other,  because  it  will  give  you  a  faire  Alley 
in  the  midst,  by  which  you  may  go  in  front  upon  a  Stately 
Hedge,  which  is  to  inclose  the  Garden.  .  .  . 

As  for  the  Making  of  Knots,  or  Figures,  with  Divers 
Coloured  Earths,  that  they  may  lie  under  the  Windowes 
of  the  House  .  .  .  they  be  but  Toyes  :  You  may  see  as 
good  Sights,  many  times,  in  Tarts.  .  .  .  And  upon  the 
Upper  Hedge,  over  every  Space,  between  the  Arches,  a 
little  Turret,  with  a  Belly,  enough  to  receive  a  Cage  of 
Birds.  ...  I,  for  my  part,  doe  not  like  Images  Cut 
out  in  Juniper,  or  other  Garden  Stuffe  :  They  be  for 
Children.  .  .  . 

For  Fountaines,  they  are  a  great  Beauty,  and  Refresh- 

238 


ment ;  But  Pooles  marre  all,  and  make  the  Garden  un- 
wholsome,  and  full  of  Flies.  .  .  . 

For  the  Heath  ...  I  wish  it  to  be  framed,  as  much  as 
may  be,  to  a  Naturall  wildnesse.  .  .  Thickets,  made  onely 
of  Sweet-briar,  and  Honny-suckl  some  wilde  Vine 
amongst ;  And  the  Ground  set  with  Violets,  Strawberries, 
and  Prime-Roses.  For  these  are  Sweet,  and  prosper  in 
the  Shade. 

FRANCIS  BACON 
Of  Gardens  (1625) 


GREEK 

Without  the  hall,  and  close  upon  the  gate, 
A  goodly  orchard  ground  was  situate, 
Of  neare  ten  Acres  ;  about  which,  was  led 
A  loftie  Quickset.  In  it  flourished 
High  and  broad  fruit  trees,  that  Pomegranats  bore  ; 
Sweet  Figs,  Peares,  Olives  ;  and  a  number  more 
Most  usefull  Plants,  did  there  produce  their  store. 
Whose  fruits,  the  hardest  Winter  could  not  kill ; 
Nor  hotest  Summer  wither.  There  was  still 
Fruite  in  his  proper  season,  all  the  yeare. 
Sweet  Zephire  breath'd  upon  them,  blasts  that  were 
Of  varied  tempers.  These,  he  made  to  beare 
Ripe  fruite  ;  these  blossomes  :  Peare  grew  after  peare ; 
Apple  succeeded  apple  ;  Grape,  the  Grape  ; 
Fig  after  Fig  came  ;  Time  made  never  rape, 
Of  any  dainty  there.  A  spritely  vine 
Spred  here  his  roote  ;  whose  fruite,  a  hote  sunshine 
Made  ripe  betimes.  Here  grew  another  greene. 
239 


Here,  some  were  gathering ;  here  some  pressing 

scene. 

A  large-allotted  severall  each  fruite  had  ; 
And  all  th'  softn'd  grounds  their  apparance  made, 
In  flowre  and  fruite,  at  which  the  King  did  aime 
To  the  precisest  order  he  could  claime. 

Two  Fountaines  grac't  the  garden ;  of  which,  one 
Powrd  out  a  winding  streame  that  over-runne 
The  grounds  for  their  use  chiefly  :  th'other  went 
Close  by  the  loftie  Pallace  gate  ;  and  lent 
The  Citie  his  sweet  benefit ;  and  thus 
The  Gods  the  Court  deckt  of  Akinous. 

HOMER 

Odyssey.  Book  VII 
Trans.  George  Chapman  (1614) 


EDEN 

In  this  pleasant  soile 

His  farr  more  pleasant  Garden  God  ordaind ; 
Out  of  the  fertil  ground  he  caus'd  to  grow 
All  Trees  of  noblest  kind  for  sight,  smell,  taste  ; 
And  all  amid  them  stood  the  Tree  of  Life, 
High,  eminent,  blooming  Ambrosial  Fruit 
Of  vegetable  Gold  ;  and  next  to  Life 
Our  Death  the  Tree  of  Knowledge  grew  fast  by  ... 

Thus  was  this  place, 
A  happy  rural  seat  of  various  view  : 
Groves  whose  rich  Trees  wept  odorous  Gumms  and 

Balme, 

Others  whose  fruit  burnisht  with  Golden  Rinde 
240 


Hung  amiable,  Hesperian  Fables  true. 
If  true,  here  onely,  and  of  delicious  taste  : 
Betwixt  them  Lawns,  or  level  Downs,  and  Flocks 
Grasing  the  tender  herb,  were  interpos'd, 
Or  palmie  hilloc,  or  the  flourie  lap 
Of  som  irriguous  Valley  spread  her  store, 
Flours  of  all  hue,  and  without  Thorn  the  Rose  ; 
Another  side,  umbrageous  Grots  and  Caves 
Of  coole  recess,  o're  which  the  mantling  Vine 
Layes  forth  her  purple  Grape,  and  gently  creeps  ; 
Luxuriant ;  mean  while  murmuring  waters  fall 
Down  the  slope  hills,  disperst,  or  in  a  Lake, 
That  to  the  fringed  Bank  with  Myrtle  crown'd, 
Her  chrystall  mirror  holds,  unite  thir  streams, 
The  Birds  thir  quire  apply ;  aires,  vernal  aires, 
Breathing  the  smell  of  field  and  grove,  attune, 
The  trembling  leaves,  while  Universal  Pan 
Knit  with  the  Graces  and  the  Hours  in  dance 
Led  on  th'  Eternal  Spring. 

JOHN   MILTON 

Paradise  Lost.  Book  IV  (1667) 


PRUNING 

On  to  thir  mornings  rural  work  they  haste 
Among  sweet  dewes  and  flours  ;  where  any  row 
Of  Fruit-trees  overwoodie  reached  too  farr 
Thir  pamperd  boughes,  and  needed  hands  to  check 

Fruitless  imbraces. 

Ibid. 

Book  V 
241 


AMANDA 

And  now  what  Monarch  would  not  Gard'ner  be, 
My  faire  Amanda's  stately  gate  to  see  ; 
How  her  feet  tempt !  how  soft  and  light  she  treads, 
Fearing  to  wake  the  flowers  from  their  beds  ! 
Yet  from  their  sweet  green  pillowes  ev'ry  where, 
They  start  and  gaze  about  to  see  my  Faire  ; 
Look  at  yon  flower  yonder,  how  it  growes 
Sensibly !  how  it  opes  its  leaves  and  blowes, 
Puts  its  best  Easter  clothes,  on  neat  and  gay  ! 
Amanda's  presence  makes  it  holy-day : 
Look  how  on  tip-toe  that  faire  lilie  stands 
To  look  on  thee,  and  court  thy  whiter  hands 
To  gather  it !  I  saw  in  yonder  croud 
The  Tulip-bed,  of  which  Dame-Flora's  proud, 
A  short  dwarfe  flower  did  enlarge  its  stalk, 
And  shoot  an  inch  to  see  Amanda  walk ;  .  .  . 
The  broad-leav'd  Sycamore,  and  ev'ry  tree 
Shakes  like  the  trembling  Aspe,  and  bends  to  thee, 
And  each  leaf  proudly  strives  with  fresher  aire, 
To  fan  the  curled  tresses  of  thy  hair  ; 
Nay,  and  the  Bee  too,  with  his  wealthie  thigh, 
Mistakes  his  hive,  and  to  thy  lips  doth  flie  ; 
Willing  to  treasure  up  his  honey  there, 
Where  honey-combs  so  sweet  and  plenty  are  : 
Look  how  that  pretty  modest  Columbine 
Hangs  down  its  head  to  view  those  feet  of  thine  ! 
See  the  fond  motion  of  the  Strawberrie, 
Creeping  on  th'earth,  to  go  along  with  thee  ! 
The  lovely  violet  makes  after  too, 
Unwilling  yet,  my  dear,  to  part  with  you  ; 
The  knot-grasse  and  the  dazies  catch  thy  toes 
242 


To  catch  my  fair e  ones  feet  before  she  goes  ; 
All  court  and  wish  me  lay  Amanda  down, 
And  give  my  Dear  a  new  green  flower 'd  gown. 
Come  let  me  kisse  thee  falling,  kisse  at  rise, 
Thou  in  the  Garden,  I  in  Paradise. 

NICHOLAS  HOOKES 

To  Amanda  walking  in  the  Garden  (1653) 

As  ELEVATING  INFLUENCES 

.  .  .  my  abhor rency  of  those  painted  and  formall  projec- 
tions of  our  cockney  gardens  and  plotts,  which  appeare  like 
gardens  of  past-board  and  march-pane,  and  smell  more  of 
paynt  than  of  flowers  and  verdure  :  our  drift  is  a  noble, 
princely,  and  universall  Elysium,  capable  of  all  the  amoen- 
ities  that  can  naturally  be  introduced  into  gardens  of  plea- 
sure, and  such  as  may  stand  in  competition  with  all  the 
august  designes  and  stories  of  this  nature,  either  of  antient 
or  moderne  times  ;  .  .  .  We  will  endeavour  to  shew  how 
the  aire  and  genius  of  gardens  operat  upon  humane  spirits 

towards  virtue  and  sanctitie How  caves,  grotts,  mounts, 

and  irregular  ornaments  of  gardens  do  contribute  to  con- 
templative and  philosophicall  enthusiasme  .  .  .  influence 
the  soule  and  spirits  of  man,  and  prepare  them  for  con- 
verse with  good  angells  ;  besides  which,  they  contribute  to 
the  lesse  abstracted  pleasures,  phylosophy  naturall  and 
longevitie :  and  I  would  have  not  onely  the  elogies  and 
effigies  of  the  antient  and  famous  garden  heroes,  but  a 
society  of  the  Paradisi  Cultores.  .  .  .  Paradisean  and  Hort- 
ulan  saints,  to  be  a  society  of  learned  and  ingenuous  men, 
such  as  Dr  Browne.  JOHN  EVELYN 

Letter  to  Sir  Thomas  Browne  (1658) 
243 


NOTES  FOR  A  BOOK  ON  GARDENS 

Chap  VII,  Lib  3  :  Paradise,  Elysian  fields,  Hesperides, 
Horti  Adonidis,  Alcinoi,  Semyramis,  Salomon's,  The 
pensile  gardens  in  Babylon.  .  .  .  Democritus's  garden, 
Epicurus's  at  Athens,  hortorum  ille  magister,  as  Pliny  calls 
him  .  .  .  and  many  others.  .  .  . 

Amongst  the  antient  Romanes.  .  .  . 

In  America.  Montezuma's  floating  garden,  and  others  in 
Mexico.  .  .  . 

In  England — Wilton,  Dodington,  Spensherst  .  .  .  my 
elder  brother  George  Evelyn's  in  Surrey,  far  surpassing 
any  else  in  England,  it  may  be  my  owne  poore  garden 
may  for  its  kind,  perpetually  greene,  not  be  unworthy 
mentioning. 

The  gardens  mentioned  in  Scripture,  &c. 

Miraculous  and  extraordinary  gardens  found  upon  huge 
fishes'  backs,  men  over  growne  with  flowers  &c. 

Romantique  and  Poeticall  gardens  out  of  Sidney,  Spen- 
cer ...  Homer  . . .  &c.  JOHN  EVELYN 
Letter  to  Sir  Thomas  Browne  (1658) 


THE  GARDEN  OF  PLEASURE 

The  most  pleasant  and  delectable  thing  for  recreation 
belonging  unto  our  farmes  is  our  flower  gardens,  .  .  . 
It  is  a  commendable  and  seemely  thing  to  behold  out  at  a 
window  many  acres  of  ground  well  tilled  and  husbanded, 
.  .  .  But  yet  it  is  much  more  to  behold  faire  and  comely 
proportions,  handsome  and  pleasant  arboures  and  as  it 
were  closets,  delightfull  borders  of  lavender,  rosemarie, 

244 


boxe,  and  other  such  like  :  to  heare  the  ravishing  musicke 
of  an  infinite  number  of  prettie  small  birdes,  which 
continually  day  and  night  doe  chatter  and  chant  their  pro- 
per and  naturall  branch  songs  upon  the  hedges  and  trees 
of  the  garden  :  and  to  smell  so  sweet  a  nosegaie  so  neere 
at  hand  :  seeing  that  this  so  fragrant  a  smell  cannot  but 
refresh  the  Lord  of  the  farme  exceedingly,  when  going  out 
of  his  bed-chamber  in  the  morning  after  the  sunne  rise, 
and  whiles  as  yet  the  cleere  and  pearlelike  dew  doth  pearch 
unto  the  grasse.  He  giveth  himselfe  to  heare  the  melodious 
musicke  of  the  Bees  :  which  busying  themselves  in  gather- 
ing of  the  same,  do  also  fill  the  aire  with  a  most  acceptable, 
sweet  and  pleasant  harmonic  :  besides  the  borders  and 
continued  rowes  of  soveraigne,  thyme,  balme,  rosemarie, 
marierome,  cypers,  soothernwood,  and  other  fragrant 
herbes,  the  sight  and  view  whereof  cannot  but  give  great 
contentment  unto  the  beholder. 

The  garden  of  pleasure  must  be  cast  and  contrived  close 
to  the  one  side  of  the  kitchin  garden,  but  yet  so,  as  that 
they  be  sundred  by  the  intercourse  of  a  great  large  alleye, 
as  also  a  hedge  of  quickset,  having  three  doores.  .  .  .  The 
kitchin  garden  is  to  be  compassed  and  set  about  with 
lattise  worke,  and  yoong  common  bordering  stuffe  to  be 
made  up  afterward  and  contrived  into  arbours,  or  as  it 
were  into  small  chappels,  or  oratories  and  places  to  make 
a  speech  out  off,  that  many  standing  about  and  below  may 
heare.  In  like  sort  shall  the  garden  of  pleasure  be  set  about 
and  compassed  in  with  arbours  made  of  Jesamin,  rose- 
marie, boxe,  juniper,  cyper-trees  savin,  cedars,  rose-trees, 
and  other  dainties  first  planted  and  pruned  according  as 
the  nature  of  every  one  doth  require,  but  after  brought 
into  some  forme  and  order  with  willow  or  juniper  poles, 
such  as  may  serve  for  the  making  of  arbours.  .  .  . 

245 


This  garden  shall  be  devided  into  two  equall  parts.  The 
one  shall  containe  the  herbes  and  flowres  used  to  make 
nosegaies  and  garlands  of,  ...  and  it  may  be  called  the 
nosegaie  garden.  The  other  part  shall  have  all  other  sweet 
smelling  herbes,  .  .  .  and  this  may  be  called  the  garden 
for  herbs  of  a  good  smell. 

CHARLES  ESTIENNE 

Maison  Rustique  (1572)  Trans.  Richard  Surflet  (1600) 


VAUXHALL 

By  water  to  Fox-hall,  and  there  walked  in  Spring  Garden. 
A  great  deal  of  company  and  the  weather  and  garden  plea- 
sant :  that  it  is  very  pleasant  and  cheap  going  thither,  for 
a  man  may  go  to  spend  what  he  will,  or  nothing,  all  is  one. 
But  to  haer  the  nightinghale  and  other  birds,  and  here 
fiddles,  and  there  a  harp,  and  here  a  Jew's  trump,  and 
here  laughing,  and  there  fine  people  walking,  is  mighty 
divertising. 

SAMUEL   PEPYS 

Diary  (May  28,  1667) 


CHIEF  HELP  AND  JOY 

When  God  did  Man  to  his  own  likenes  make,  .  . . 

He  did  a  garden  for  him  plant 
By  the  quick  hand  of  his  omnipotent  word. 
As  the  cheif  help  and  joy  of  human  life, 
Hee  gave  him  the  first  gift,  first,  even  before  a  Wife. 
246 


For  God,  the  universale  Architect, 
'T  had  ben  as  easy  to  erect 
A  Louvre,  or  Escuriall,  or  a  Tower  . . . 

But  well  hee  knew  what  place  would  best  agree 

With  innocence  and  with  faelicitie  ; 

And  wee  elsewhere  still  seek  for  them  in  vain,  .  .  . 

God  the  first  garden  made,  and  the  first  city,  Cain. 

Oh  blessed  shades  !  oh,  gentle  cool  retreat, 

From  all  th'immoderat  heat 

In  which  the  frantick  world  does  burn  and  sweat !  .  . . 

The  birds  that  dance  from  bough  to  bough, 
And  sing  above  in  every  tree, 
Are  not  from  fears  and  cares  more  free 
Then  wee  who  ly,  or  sit,  or  walk  below, 
And  should  by  right  bee  singers  too. 

What  princes  quire  of  musick  can  excel 
That  which  in  this  shade  does  dwel  ? 
For  which  we  nothing  pay  or  give, 
They  like  all  other  poets  live 

Without  reward  or  thanks  for  their  obliging  pains ; . . . 

The  whistling  winds  add  their  less  artfull  straines, 

And  a  grave  base  the  murmuring  fountains  play ; 

ABRAHAM  COWLEY 
The  Garden  (1666) 


EATING  FRUIT 

That  which  makes  the  cares  of  gardening  more  necessary, 
or  at  least  excuseable,  is,  that  all  men  eat  fruit  that  can 
get  it ;  so  as  the  choice  is  only,  whether  one  will  eat  Good 
or  111.  Now  whoever  will  be  sure  to  eat  good  fruit,  must 

247 


do  it  out  of  a  garden  of  his  own  ;  for  besides  the  choice  so 
necessary  in  the  sorts,  the  soil,  and  so  many  other  circum- 
stances that  go  to  compose  a  good  garden,  or  produce  good 
fruits,  and  there  is  something  very  nice  in  gathering  them, 
and  chusing  the  best  even  from  the  same  tree.  ...  So  that 
for  all  things  out  of  a  garden,  either  of  sallads  or  fruits,  a 
poor  man  will  eat  better,  that  has  one  of  his  own,  then  a 
rich  man  that  has  none.  And  this  is  all  I  think  of,  Necessary 
and  Useful  to  be  known  upon  this  subject. 

SIR  WILLIAM  TEMPLE,  Of  Gardening  (1685) 


GIVING  ADVICE 


To  LORD  BYRON,  TO  BE  MORE  RESERVED 

Talking  one  day  of  his  domestic  misfortunes,  as  he  always 
likes  to  call  his  separation  from  Lady  Byron,  he  dwelt  in  a 
sort  of  unmanly  strain  of  lamentation  on  it,  that  all  present 
felt  to  be  unworthy  of  him ;  and  as  the  evening  before  I  had 
heard  this  habititude  of  his  commented  on  by  persons 
indifferent  about  his  feelings,  who  even  ridiculed  his 
making  it  a  topic  of  conversation  with  mere  acquaintances, 
I  wrote  a  few  lines  in  verse  expressive  of  my  sentiments  and 
handed  it  across  the  table  round  which  we  were  seated,  as 
he  was  sitting  for  his  portrait.  He  read  them,  became  red  and 
pale  by  turns  with  anger,  and  threw  them  down  on  the  table 
with  an  expression  of  countenance  which  is  not  to  be 

248 


forgotten.  The  following  are  the  lines,  which  had  nothing 
to  offend ;  but  they  did  offend  him  deeply,  and  he  did  not 
recover  his  temper  during  the  rest  of  his  stay. 

And  canst  thou  bare  thy  breast  to  vulgar  eyes  ? 
And  canst  thou  shew  the  wounds  that  rankle  there  ? 
Methought  in  noble  hearts  that  sorrow  lies 
Too  deep  to  suffer  coarser  minds  to  share. 

The  wounds  inflicted  by  the  hand  we  love, 
(The  hand  that  should  have  warded  off  each  blow) 
Are  never  heal'd,  as  aching  hearts  can  prove. 
But  sacred  should  the  stream  of  sorrow  flow. 

If  friendship' '$  pity  quells  not  real  grief, 
Can  public  pity  soothe  thy  woes  to  sleep  ? 
No  !  Byron,  spurn  such  vain,  such  weak  relief, 
And  if  thy  tears  must  fall — in  secret  weep. 

LADY   BLESSINGTON 

Conversations  with  Byron  (1834) 


To  A  LADY,  FROM  ANOTHER,  TO  BE  DISCREET 

It  is  an  unruly  Age  we  live  in.  ...  I  understand  there  is  a 
Gentleman  Mr  A.  B.  is  extremely  prodigal  of  his  pretences 
to  you,  in  the  way  of  Love  and  Marriage  :  my  Condition  is 
only  this,  that  you  have  an  eye  to  your  own  welfare,  build 
not  upon  empty  promises,  for  if  you  once  surfer  him  to 
please  his  humour  before  he  is  safely  yours,  you  will 
certainly  forfeit  your  own  Honour.  Consider,  as  he  is 
above  you  in  purse,  and  the  portions  of  this  life  (Beauty 
only  excepted,  for  of  that  Nature  hath  given  you  a 
bountiful  proportion)  whether  his  intentions  are  real  or 

249 


feigned ;  make  him  your  own,  then ...  he  will  be  bound  by 

the  Laws  of  God  and  Nature,  to  bear  a  part  with  you  in 

whatsoever  happens.  ANON 

New  Academy  of  Compliments  (1671) 


To  A  SON  IN  FRANCE,  TO  IMPROVE  HIS  FRENCH, 
LIVE  RELIGIOUSLY,  AND  KEEP  INSECTS  IN  ABox 

Honest  Tom, 

I  wish  some  Person  would  direct  you  a  while  for 

the  true  Pronounsation  and  writeing  of  French ;  by  noe 
means  forget  to  encrease  yr  Latin,  be  Patient  Civil  and 
Debonair  unto  all,  be  Temperate  and  stir  little  in  the  hot 
season ; . . .  Have  the  love  and  fear  of  God  ever  before  thine 
eyes,  God  confirm  yr  faith  in  Christ  and  that  you  may  live 
accordingly,  Je  vous  recommende  A  dieu.  If  you  meet 
with  any  Pretty  insects  of  any  kind  keep  them  in  a  box. 

SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE 

Letter  to  his  son  Thomas  (1661) 


To  CICERO,  NOT  TO  BE  DISTURBED  BY  His 
DAUGHTER'S  DEATH 

I  have  decided  to  write  briefly  to  you  the  thoughts  that  have 
occurred  to  my  mind  on  this  occasion ;  not  that  I  think 
they  escape  you,  but  because  perhaps,  hampered  by 
grief,  you  perceive  them  less  clearly. 

Why  is  it  that  you  are  so  disturbed  by  a  private  grief  ? 
Consider  how  fortune  up  till  now  has  treated  us ;  those 
things  have  been  taken  from  us  which  should  be  no  less 

250 


dear  to  us  than  our  children — country,  reputation,  posi- 
tion, all  honours.  What  can  this  one  additional  misfortune 
add  to  your  grief?  Or  who,  trained  by  these  things,  ought 
not  to  be  thick-skinned,  and  to  consider  everything  else  of 
less  importance  ?  .  .  .  . 

This,  too,  if  it  seems  good  to  you,  consider.  Lately 
there  perished  simultaneously  many  famous  men ;  the 
imperial  power  of  the  Roman  people  has  been  much 
diminished  ;  all  the  provinces  have  been  shaken  ;  are  you 
so  much  moved  to  trouble  because  the  little  life  of  one 
little  woman  has  been  thrown  away  ?  If  she  had  not  met 
her  fate  now,  she  would  have  had  to  die  in  a  few  years, 
since  she  was  human.  You  must  recall  your  mind  and 
thoughts  from  these  topics,  and  remember  rather  what  is 
worthy  of  you.  .  .  . 

I  am  ashamed  to  write  more  to  you  about  this,  lest  I 
should  seem  to  distrust  your  sense ;  therefore,  when  I 
have  mentioned  this  one  thing  more,  I  will  stop.  We  have 
often  seen  that  you  bear  good  fortune  beautifully  .  .  . 
show  us  that  you  can  bear  adversity  equally  well,  and  that 
you  do  not  consider  your  burden  greater  than  you  should. 

When  I  learn  that  you  are  calmer,  I  shall  inform  you  of 
the  condition  of  my  province.  SERVIUS  SULPICIUS  RUFUS 

Letter  to  M.  T.  Cicero  (45  B.C.) 


To  MILTON,  TO  WRITE  OF  PARADISE  FOUND 

After  some  common  Discourses  had  passed  between  us,  he 
called  for  a  Manuscript  of  his ;  which  being  brought,  he 
delivered  to  me;  bidding  me,  "  Take  it  home  with  me,  and 
read  it  at  my  Leisure  ;  and,  when  I  had  so  done,  return  it 

251 


to  him,  with  my  Judgement  therupon."  When  I  came 
home,  and  had  set  myself  to  read  it,  I  found  it  was 
that  Excellent  POEM  which  he  entitled  PARADISE  LOST. 
After  I  had,  with  the  best  Attention,  read  it  through  :  I 
made  him  another  Visit,  and  returned  him  his  Book  ;  with 
due  Acknowledgment  of  the  Favour  he  had  done  me  in 
Communicating  it  to  me.  He  asked  me,  how  I  liked  it, 
and  what  I  thought  of  it ;  which  I  modestly  but  freely  told 
him.  And,  after  some  further  Discourse  about  it,  I 
pleasantly  said  to  him,  Thou  has  said  much,  here,  of 
PARADISE  LOST  :  but  what  hast  thou  to  say  of  PARADISE 
FOUND  ?  He  made  me  no  answer,  but  sate  some  time 
in  a  Muse  :  then  brake  off  that  Discourse,  and  fell  upon 
another  Subject.  .  .  . 

Afterwards  ...  he  shewed  me  his  Second  Poem, 
called  PARADISE  REGAINED  :  and,  in  a  pleasant  tone,  said 
to  me,  This  is  owing  to  you  !  For  you  put  it  into  my  head,  by 
the  question  you  put  to  me  at  Chalfont,  which,  before,  I  had 
not  thought  of.  THOMAS  ELLWOOD 

History  of  his  Life  (1714) 


To  THE  VIRGINS  TO  MAKE  MUCH  OF  TIME 

Gather  ye  Rose-buds  while  ye  may, 

Old  Time  is  still  a  flying  : 
And  this  same  flower  that  smiles  to  day 

To  morrow  will  be  dying. 

The  glorious  Lamp  of  Heaven,  the  Sun, 

The  higher  he's  a  getting ; 
The  sooner  will  his  Race  be  run, 

And  neerer  he's  to  Setting. 
252 


That  Age  is  best,  which  is  the  first. 
When  Youth  and  Blood  are  warmer ; 

But  being  spent,  the  worse,  and  worst 
Times,  still  succeed  the  former. 

Then  be  not  coy,  but  use  your  time  ; 

And  while  ye  may,  goe  marry  : 
For  having  lost  but  once  your  prime, 

You  may  for  ever  tarry. 

ROBERT   HERRICK 
To  the  Virgins,  to  make  much  of  time.  Hesperides  (1648) 


To  YOUNG  GENTLEWOMEN,  TO  TRUST  No  MAN 

Ye  Virgins  that  from  Cupids  tents 

do  beare  away  the  foyle, 
Whose  hartes  as  yet  with  raginge  love 

most  paynfully  do  boyle, 

To  you  I  speake  ;  For  you  be  they 

that  good  advice  do  lack  ; 
Oh  !  if  I  could  good  counsell  give, 

my  tongue  should  not  be  slacke.  .  .  . 

Beware  of  fayre  and  painted  talke, 

beware  of  flattering  tonges  ! 
The  mermaides  do  pretend  no  good, 

for  all  their  pleasant  Songs.  .  .  . 

Trust  not  a  man  at  the  fyrst  sight, 

but  trye  him  well  before  : 
I  wish  all  Maids,  within  their  brests, 

to  kepe  this  thing  in  store  ; 
253 


For  triall  shall  declare  this  trueth 
and  show  what  he  doth  think  : 
Whether  he  be  a  Lover  true, 
or  do  intend  to  shrink. 

is.  w. 

An  Admonition  to  all  young  Gentlewomen  to  beware  of 

Mens  flattery  (1566) 


GOSSIP 


CICERO  SPURNS  IT 

What  ?  Do  you  consider  that  this  is  what  I  commissioned 
you'to  do,  to  send  me  stories  about  gladiatorial  matches, 
about  adjourned  bails,  about  the  robbery  of  Chrestus,  and 
such  stuff  as  nobody  dares  mention  to  me  when  I  am  at 

Rome  ? 

CICERO 

Letter  to  M.  Caelius  Rufus  (B.C.  51) 


BUT  STILL  GETS  IT 

There  is  absolutely  no  news,  unless  you  want  me  (and  I'm 
sure  you  do)  to  write  to  you  about  this  kind  of  thing  : 
Young  Cornificius  has  promised  marriage  to  Orsetilla's 

254 


daughter.  Paulla  Valeria,  Triarius's  sister,  got  a  divorce, 
without  giving  a  reason,  the  very  day  her  husband  was  to 
return  home  from  his  province.  She  is  to  marry  D.  Brutus . 
She  has  sent  back  all  her  ornaments. 

A  lot  of  incredible  things  like  this  have  happened  in 
your  absence.  Servius  Ocella  would  never  have  persuaded 
any  one  that  he  was  an  adulterer  if  he  hadn't  been  caught 
at  it  twice  in  three  days.  Where,  you  will  ask  ?  Where 
I  should  least  have  wished,  by  Hercules  !  I  leave  you 
something  to  find  out  from  others.  And  I  don't  mind  the 
idea  of  a  Commander-in-Chief  inquiring  of  people  one 
by  one  who  was  the  lady  someone  was  caught  with. 

M.   CAELIUS  RUFUS 

Letter  to  Cicero  (B.C.  50) 


THE  LITTLE  NEWS  o'  THE  TOWN 

PAGE  :  Madam,  Mr  Medley  has  sent  to  know  whether  a 
Visit  will  not  be  Troublesome  this  Afternoon  ? 
LADY  TOWNLEY  :  Send  him  word  his  visits  never  are  so. 
EMILIA  :  He's  a  very  pleasant  man. 
LADY  TOWN.  :  He's  a  very  necessary  man  among  us 
Women ;  he's  not  scandalous  i'the  least,  perpetually  con- 
triving to  bring  good  Company  together,  and  always  ready 
to  stop  us  a  gap  at  Ombre ;  then  he  knows  all  the  little 
news  o'  the  Town. 

EMILIA  :  I  love  to  hear  him  talk  o'  the  Intrigues,  let  'em 
be  never  so  dull  in  themselves,  he'l  make  'em  pleasant 
i'  the  relation. 

LADY  TOWN.  :  But  he  improves  things  so  much  one  can 

255 


take  no  measure  of  the  Truth  from  him.  Mr  Dorimant 
swears  a  Flea  or  a  Maggot  is  not  made  more  monstrous 
by  a  magnifying  Glass,  than  a  story  is  by  his  telling  it. 
EMILIA  :  Hold,  here  he  comes. 

EMILIA  :  Leave  your  raillery,  and  tell  us,  is  there  any  new 
Wit  come  forth.  Songs  or  Novels  ? 
MEDLEY  :  A  very  pretty  piece  of  gallantry,  by  an  eminent 
Author,  call'd  the  diversions  of  Bruxells,  ....  Then  there 
is  the  Art  of  Affectation,  written  by  a  late  beauty  of 
Quality,  teaching  you  how  to  draw  up  your  Breasts, 
stretch  up  your  neck,  to  thrust  out  your  Breech,  to  play 
with  your  Head,  to  toss  up  your  Nose,  to  bite  your  Lips, 
to  turn  up  your  Eyes,  to  speak  in  a  silly  soft  tone  of  a 
Voice,  and  use  all  the  Foolish  French  Words  that  will 
infallibly  make  your  person  and  conversation  charming, 
with  a  short  apologie  at  the  latter  end  in  the  behalf  of 
young  Ladies  who  notoriously  wash  and  paint,  though 
they  have  naturally  good  Complexions. 
EMILIA  :  What  a  deal  of  stuff  you  tell  us  ! 
MED.  :  Such  as  the  Town  affords,  Madam.  The  Russians, 
hearing  the  great  respect  we  have  for  Foreign  Dancing, 
have  lately  sent  over  some  of  their  best  Ballarins,  who 
are  now  practicing  a  famous  Ballat  which  will  be  suddenly 
danc'd  at  the  Bear-Garden. 

LADY  TOWN.  :  Pray  forbear  your  idle  stories,  and  give  us 
an  account  of  the  state  of  Love,  as  it  now  stands. 
MED.  :  Truly,  there  has  been  some  revolutions  in  those 
Affairs,  great  chopping  and  changing  among  the  old,  and 
some  new  Lovers,  whom  malice,  indiscretion,  and  mis- 
fortune, have  luckily  brought  into  play. 
LADY  TOWN.  :  What  think  you  of  walking  into  the  next 

256 


Room,  and  sitting  down,  before  you  engage  in  this 
business  ? 

MED.  :  I  wait  upon  you,  and  I  hope,  (though  Women  are 
commonly  unreasonable)  by  the  plenty  of  Scandal  I  shall 
discover,  to  give  you  very  good  Content,  Ladies. 

SIR  GEORGE   ETHEREGE 

The  Man  of  Mode  (1674) 


COFFEE  HOUSES  AT  OXFORD 

The  decay  of  study,  and  consequently  of  learning,  are  coffy 
houses,  to  which  most  scholars  retire  and  spend  much  of 
the  day  in  hearing  and  speaking  of  news,  in  speaking  vilely 
of  their  superiors.  ANTHONY  WOOD 

Life  and  Times  (1674) 


A  PACKET  OF  IT 

I  venture  to  write  to  you  after  six  Months  Neglect.  Not 
that  I  think  you  care  much  for  my  letters  neither ;  don't 

mistake.  ...  I  know  my  Lady gives  you  an  Account 

of  all  material  things,  Intrigues  and  new  Petticoats.  As  for 
Politicks,  you'd  clap  them  under  Minc'd-pies,  and  well  if 
they  fared  no  worse.  In  short,  I  know  nothing  but  Religion 
you  care  a  Farthing  for ;  and  that  the  Town's  so  bare  of  at 
present,  I  cou'd  as  soon  send  you  Money.  No-body  prays 
but  the  Court ;  and  perhaps  they  had  as  good  let  it  alone  ; 
at  least  No-body  sees,  by  the  Effects,  what  they  pray  for  ; 
'tis  thought,  a  general  Excise.  But  Heaven,  who  knows 
IP  257 


our  wants  better,  seems  to  be  of  Opinion  a  General  Peace 

will  do  as  well 

The  first  time  I  shew'd  myself,  since  I  came  to  Town, 
upon  that  Theatre  of  Truth  and  Good  Nature,  the 
Chocolate-House,  I  was  immediately  regal'd  with  the  old 
Story  (tho'  from  another  Hand)  That  now  you  were  gone 

for  certain.  But  that  worthy  Knight-Errant,  Mr  W , 

that  Mirrour  of  Chivalry  for  all  wrong'd  Ladies,  drew  his 
tongue  in  your  Defence  ;  and  I,  Madam,  had  the  Honour 
to  be  his  Sancho  Pancho  in  your  Justification.  But  how 
long  we  shall  be  able  to  stand  our  Ground  I  can't  tell, 
unless  you'll  come  and  lug  out  too,  and  then  I  don't  doubt 
but  we  shall  make  our  Party  good.  .  .  Here's  a  scoundrel 
Play  come  out  lately,  by  which  the  Author  has  been  pleas'd 
to  bring  all  the  Reverend  Ladies  of  the  Town  upon  his 

Back,  with  my  Lady at  the  head  of  'em.  .  .  But  that 

is  not  all  his  Misfortune ;  there's  a  younger  Knot,  who, 
having  grimac'd  themselves  into  the  Faction  of  Piety,  say, 
'  Tis  a  wicked  Play,  and  a  Blasphemous  Play,  and  a  Beastly, 
Filthy,  Bawdy  Play  ;  and  so  never  go  to  it  but  in  a  Mask. 

Dear  Mrs  S ,  come  to  Town  again  quickly,  and  don't 

put  your  Country- tricks  upon  us  any  longer,  for  here's 

a  World  of  Mischief  in  your  Absence  :  The  V is 

leaner  than  ever.  I  am  grown  Religious.  My  Lord  W 

is  going  to  be  Married.  Sir  John  Fenwick  is  going  to  be 

Hanged.  The  W.L is  boarded  by  a  Sea-Officer  :  The 

Lady  Sh is  Storm'd  by  a  Land  one.  Yel has  got 

a  high  Intrigue  ;  and  the  P has  got  the  Gripes. . .  You 

see  all's  in  Disorder ;  nor  are  things  much  better  in  the 
Country,  as  I  hear  :  For,  'tis  said,  the  Spirit  of  Wedlock 

haunts  Folks  in  Shropshire.  .  .  Some-body  swore  by 

t'other  Day,  you  were  Married ;  to  whom,  I  have  forgot, 
tho'  that  was  sworn  too.  But,  pray,  let's  see  you  here 

258 


again  ;  and  don't  tell  us  a  Scripture-story,  That  you  have 
married  a  Husband  and  can't  come  ;  the  Excuse,  you  see, 
was  not  thought  good,  even  in  those  Days,  when  things 
wou'd  pass  on  Folks  that  won't  now. 

My  due  Respects  to  the  Mayor  and  Corporation  of 

S A  PERSON  OF  HONOUR 

Letter  to  Mrs  S (1696) 


EAGERNESS 

The  said  Mr  Aubrey  gave  Ant.  a  Wood  abundance  of 
other  of  his  informations;  and  Anthony  used  to  say  of  him, 
when  he  was  at  the  same  time  in  company,  "  Look,  yonder 
goes  such  an  one,  who  can  tell  such  and  such  stories,  and 
Pll  warrant  Mr  Aubrey  will  break  his  neck  down  stairs 
rather  than  miss  him."  THOMAS  HEARNE 

Diary  (Aug.  5,  1710) 


COLLECTING  IT 

Dear  Sir.  You  desir'd  me,  when  I  saw  you  last,  to  send 
you  the  News  of  the  Town,  and  to  let  you  see  how  punct- 
ually I  have  obey'd  your  Orders,  scarce  a  Day  has  pass'd 
over  my  Head  since,  but  I  have  been  enquiring  after  the 
freshest  Ghosts  and  Apparitions  for  you,  Rapes  of  the 
newest  date,  dexterous  Murders,  and  fantastical  Mar- 
riages, Country  Steeples  demolished  by  Lightning,  Whales 
stranded  in  the  North,  etc,  a  large  Account  of  all  which 
you  may  expect  when  they  come  in  my  way.  TOM  BROWN 

Letter  to  W.  Knight  (1690) 
259 


NEW  ARRIVALS 

We  have  Mr  Lampton  and  his  family  lately  com  from 
London  and  along  with  them  a  figne  brisk  phesicion  and 
a  figne  Maid  they  are  Roman  Catholics  but  appear  very 
well  at  a  distance.  I  suppose  we  must  not  converse  with 
them  which  I  am  sorry  for  because  they  seem  well  bred 

people 

Mrs  Hutton  is  from  us  at  Present,  the  death  of  her 
father  who  has  left  all  to  his  wifes  Management  will  I 
doubt  be  injurious  to  her  poor  woman  she's  ill  dealt  with 
and  wants  humer  to  bear  it. 

MRS   TICKELL 

Letter  to  her'  son  Thomas  (1717) 


WHO'S  TOGETHER 

Y'expect  to  hear,  at  least,  what  Love  has  past 
In  this  lewd  Town,  since  you  and  I  saw  last ; 
What  change  has  happen'd  of  Intrigues,  and  whether 
The  old  ones  last,  and  who  and  who's  together. 

JOHN   WILMOT,  EARL   OF  ROCHESTER 

Letter  from  Artemisa  in  the  town  to  Cloe  in  the 

country  (c.  1670) 


BIRTHS,  DEATHS  AND  MARRIAGES 

I  will  be  like  any  gazette,  and  scrape  together  all  the  births, 
deaths  and  marriages  in  the  parish.   Lady  Harrington 

260 


and  Lady  Rachel  Walpole  are  brought  to  bed  of  sons  ; 
Lord  Burlington  and  Lord  Gower  have  had  new  attacks 
of  palsies  :  Lord  Falkland  is  to  marry  the  Southwark  Lady 
Suffolk ;  and  Mr  Watson,  Miss  Grace  Pelham.  Lady  Cov- 
entry has  miscarried  of  one  or  two  children,  and  is  going 
on  with  one  or  two  more,  and  is  gone  to  France  to-day. 
Lady  Townshend  and  Lady  Caroline  Petersham  have  had 
their  anniversary  quarrel,  and  the  Duchess  of  Devonshire 
has  had  her  secular  Assembly,  which  she  keeps  once  in 
fifty  years ;  she  was  more  delightfully  vulgar  at  it  than  you 

can  imagine I  am  ashamed  to  send  you  such  nonsense, 

or  to  tell  you  how  the  good  women  at  Hampton  Court 
are  scandalized  at  Princess  Emily's  coming  to  chapel 
last  Sunday  with  a  dog  under  her  arm ;  but  I  am  bid  to 
send  news  :  what  can  one  do  at  such  a  dead  time  of  year  ? 
I  must  conclude,  as  my  Lady  Gower  did  very  well  t'other 
day  in  a  letter  into  the  country,  Since  the  two  Misses  were 
hanged,  and  the  two  Misses  were  married,  there  is  nothing 
at  all  talked  of.  Adieu  ! 

HORACE  WALPOLE 

Letter  to  Henry  Conway  (1732) 


THE  GOSSIP-MONGER 


No  newes  can  stir  but  by  his  doore  ;  neither  can  he  know 
that,  which  hee  must  not  tell :  What  everie  man  ventures 
in  Guiana  voyage,  and  what  they  gained,  he  knowes  to  a 
haire.  Whether  Holland  will  have  peace  hee  knowes,  and 
on  what  conditions ;  and  with  what  successe,  is  familiar 
to  him  ere  it  bee  concluded.  No  post  can  passe  him 

261 


without  a  question;  and  rather  than  he  will  leese  the 
newes,  hee  rides  backe  with  him  to  appose  him  of  tidings  ; 
and  then  to  the  next  man  hee  meets,  hee  supplies  the 
wants  of  his  hasty  intelligence,  and  makes  up  a  perfect 
tale  ;  ...  If  hee  but  see  two  men  talke  and  reade  a  letter 
in  the  street,  hee  runnes  to  them,  and  asks  if  he  may  not 
be  partner  of  that  secret  relation ;  and  if  they  denie  it, 
hee  offers  to  tell,  since  he  may  not  heare,  woonders  :  and 
then  falles  upon  the  report  of  the  Scotish  Mine,  or  of  the 
great  fish  taken  up  at  Linne,  or  of  the  freezing  of  the 
Thames  ;  .  .  .  His  tongue  like  the  taile  of  Sampsons  foxes 
carries  fire-brands,  and  is  enough  to  set  the  whole  field  of 
the  world  on  a  flame.  Himselfe  beginnes  table-talke  of 
his  neighbour  at  anothers  boord ;  to  whom  he  beares  the 
first  newes,  and  adjures  him  to  conceale  the  reporter  : 
whose  cholericke  answer  he  returnes  to  this  first  host, 
inlarged  with  a  second  edition  :  so,  as  it  uses  to  be  done  in 
the  sight  of  unwilling  mastives,  hee  claps  each  on  the  side 
apart,  and  provokes  them  to  an  eager  conflict ;  There 
can  no  Act  passe  without  his  Comment,  which  is  ever 
far-fetcht,  rash,  suspicious,  delatorie.  His  eares  are  long, 
and  his  eyes  quicke,  but  most  of  all  to  imperfection, 
which  as  he  easily  sees,  so  he  increases  with  intermedling. 
Hee  harbours  another  mans  servant,  and  amiddes  his 
entertainment  asks  what  fare  is  usuall  at  home,  what 
houres  are  kept,  what  talke  passeth  their  mcales,  what  his 
masters  disposition  is,  what  his  government,  what  his 
guests  ?  And  when  hee  hath  by  curious  enquiries  extracted 
all  the  juice  and  spirit  of  hoped  intelligence,  turnes  him 
off  whence  he  came,  and  works  on  a  new. 

JOSEPH   HALL 

Characters  of  Vertues  and  Vices 
(1608) 

262 


WHAT  NEWS? 

Amaranthus,  the  Philosopher,  met  Hermocles,  Diophantus, 
and  Philolaus,  his  companions,  one  day  busily  discoursing 
about  Epicurus  and  Democritus  tenents,  very  solicitous 
which  was  most  probable  and  came  nearest  to  truth  ;  to 
put  them  out  of  that  surly  controversie  and  to  refresh  their 
spirits,  he  told  them  a  pleasant  tale  of  Stratocles  the  Phy- 
sitian's  wedding,  and  of  all  the  particulars,  the  company, 
the  cheere,  the  musicke,  &c,  for  he  was  new  come  from 
it,  with  which  relation  they  were  so  much  delighted,  that 
Philolaus  wished  a  blessing  to  his  heart,  and  many  a  good 
wedding,  many  such  merry  meetings  might  he  be  at,  to 
please  himself  with  the  sight.,  and  others  with  the  narration 
of  it.  Newes  are  generally  welcome  to  all  our  eares  .  .  . 
we  long  after  rumour  to  heare  and  listen  to  it  ...  Wee 
are  most  part  too  inquisitive  and  apt  to  harken  after  newes, 
which  Caesar  .  .  .  observes  of  the  old  Gauls,  they  would  be 
enquiring  of  every  Carrier  and  Passenger,  what  they  had 
heard  or  scene,  what  newes  abroad  ?  ROBERT  BURTON 

The  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  (1621.  Edition  1632) 


ABOVE  THE  CLOUDS 

"  I  do  so  hate  gossip,"  she  murmured. 

"  How  I  hate  it  too  !  "  I  heard  myself  exclaim. 

"  There  is  so  much  that  is  good  and  noble  in  human 
nature  ;  why  not  talk  of  that  ?  " 

"  Why  not  indeed  ?  "  I  sighed. 

"  I  always  feel  that  it  is  one's  own  fault  if  one  dislikes 
people,  or  finds  them  boring." 

263 


<c  How  I  agree  with  you  !  "  I  cried  sincerely. 

"  But  people  are  nowadays  so  cynical — they  sneer  at 
everything  that  makes  life  worth  living — Love,  Faith, 
Friendship " 

"  And  yet  those  very  names  are  so  lovely  that  even 
when  used  in  mockery  they  shine  like  stars." 

"  How  beautifully  you  put  it  !  I  have  so  enjoyed  our 
talk."  I  had  enjoyed  it  too,  and  felt  all  the  better  for  it,  only 
a  little  giddy  and  out  of  breath,  as  if  I  had  been  up  in  a 
balloon.  LOGAN  PEARSALL  SMITH,  More  Trivia  (1922) 


GRASPING 


MATHEMATICIANS  AND  LOVERS 

In  Love  and  the  Mathematicks  People  reason  alike  :  Allow 
never  so  little  to  a  Lover,  yet  presently  after  you  must 
grant  him  more  ;  nay  more  and  more,  which  will  at  last  go 
a  great  way  :  In  like  manner,  grant  but  a  Mathematician 
one  little  Principle,  he  immediately  draws  a  consequence 
from  it,  to  which  you  must  necessarily  assent ;  and  from 
this  consequence  another,  till  he  leads  you  so  far  (whether 
you  will  or  no)  that  you  have  much  ado  to  believe -him. 
These  two  sorts  of  People,  Lovers  and  Mathematicians, 
will  always  take  more  than  you  give  'em. 

B.  DE  FONTENELLE,  A  Plurality  of  Worlds  (1686) 
Trans.  John  Glanvill  (1688) 
264 


THE  FAULT  OF  THE  DUTCH 

In  matters  of  commerce,  the  fault  of  the  Dutch 
Is  giving  too  little  and  asking  too  much. 

GEORGE  CANNING  (c.    1 822) 

USING  OPPORTUNITY 

Croesus  having  heard  from  the  Lydians  that  Alcmaion 
had  done  him  service,  sent  for  him  to  Sardia ;  and  when 
he  came,  he  offered  to  give  him  a  gift  of  as  much  gold  as 
he  could  carry  away  at  once  upon  his  own  person.  With 
a  view  to  this  gift,  its  nature  being  such,  Alcmaion  made 
preparations  and  used  appliances  as  follows : — he  put  on  a 
large  tunic  leaving  a  deep  fold  in  the  tunic  to  hang  down 
in  front,  and  he  drew  on  his  feet  the  widest  boots  which  he 
could  find,  and  so  went  to  the  treasury  to  which  they  con- 
ducted him.  Then  he  fell  upon  a  heap  of  gold-dust,  and 
first  he  packed  in  by  the  side  of  his  legs  so  much  of  the 
gold  as  his  boots  would  contain,  and  then  he  filled  the  whole 
fold  of  the  tunic  with  the  gold,  and  sprinkled  some  of  the 
gold-dust  on  the  hair  of  his  head,  and  took  some  into  his 
mouth,  and  having  so  done  he  came  forth  out  of  the  treasury, 
with  difficulty  dragging  along  his  boots  and  resembling 
anything  in  the  world  rather  than  a  man ;  for  his  mouth 
was  stuffed  full,  and  every  part  of  him  was  swelled  out : 
and  upon  Croesus  came  laughter  when  he  saw  him,  and  he 
not  only  gave  him  all  that,  but  also  presented  him  in 
addition  with  more  not  inferior  in  value  to  that.  Thus 
this  house  became  exceedingly  wealthy,  and  thus  the 
Alcmaion  of  whom  I  speak  became  a  breeder  of  chariot 
horses  and  won  a  victory  at  Olympia.  HERODOTUS 

History.  (5th  c  B.C.)  Trans.  G.  C.  Macaulay 
265 


GROTTOES 


POPE'S 

Twick'nam. 

I  have  put  the  last  Hand  to  my  works  of  this  kind,  in 
happily  finishing  the  subterraneous  Way  and  Grotto  :  I 
there  found  a  Spring  of  the  clearest  Water,  which  falls  in 
a  perpetual  rill,  that  echoes  through  the  Cavern  day  and 
night.  From  the  River  Thames,  you  see  thro'  my  Arch  up 
a  Walk  of  the  Wilderness,  to  a  kind  of  open  Temple, 
wholly  compos  Jd  of  Shells  in  the  Rustic  Manner ;  and  from 
that  distance  under  the  Temple  you  look  down  thro'  a 
sloping  Arcade  of  Trees,  and  see  the  Sails  on  the  River 
passing  suddenly  and  vanishing,  as  thro'  a  Perspective 
Glass.  When  you  shut  the  Doors  of  this  Grotto,  it  becomes 
on  the  instant,  from  a  luminous  Room  a  Camera  obscura  ; 
on  the  walls  of  which  all  the  Objects  of  the  River,  Hills, 
Woods  and  Boats,  are  forming  a  moving  Picture  in  their 
visible  Radiations  :  and  when  you  have  a  mind  to  light  it 
up,  it  affords  you  a  very  different  Scene  ;  it  is  finished  with 
Shells  interspersed  with  Pieces  of  Looking-glass  in  angular 
forms  :  and  in  the  Ceiling  is  a  Star  of  the  same  Material, 
at  which  when  a  lamp  (of  an  orbicular  Figure  of  thin 
Alabaster)  is  hung  in  the  Middle,  a  thousand  pointed 
Rays  glitter,  and  are  reflected  over  the  Place.  There  are 

266 


connected  to  this  Grotto  by  a  narrower  Passage  two 
Porches,  with  Niches  and  Seats ;  one  toward  the  River ;  of 
smooth  Stones,  full  of  light,  and  open  ;  the  other  toward 
the  Arch  of  Trees,  rough  with  Shells,  Flints,  and  Iron- 
Ore.  The  Bottom  is  paved  with  simple  Pebble,  as  the  ad- 
joining walk  up  the  Wilderness  to  the  Temple,  is  to  be 
cockle-shells,  in  the  natural  Taste,  agreeing  not  ill  with  the 
little  dripping  Murmur,  and  the  Aquatic  Idea  of  the  whole 
Place.  It  wants  nothing  to  compleat  it  but  a  good  Statue 
with  an  Inscription,  like  that  beautiful  antique  one  which 
you  know  I  am  so  fond  of, 

Hujus  Nympha  loci,  sacri  custodia  fontis, 
Dormio,  dum  blandae  sentio  murmur  aquae, 

Parce  meum,  quisquis  tangis  cava  marmora,  somnum 
Rumpere  ;  sen  bibas,  sive  lavare,  tace. 

Nymph  of  the  Grot,  these  sacred  Springs  I  keep, 
And  to  the  Murmur  of  these  Waters  sleep  ; 
Ah  spare  my  slumbers,  gently  tread  the  cave  ! 
And  drink  in  silence,  or  in  silence  lave  I 

You'll  think  I  have  been  very  Poetical  in  this  Description, 
but  it  is  pretty  near  the  Truth.  I  wish  you  were  here  to 
bear  Testimony  how  little  it  owes  to  Art,  either  the  Place 
itself,  or  the  Image  I  give  of  it.  ALEXANDER  POPE 

Letter  to  Edward  Blount  (1725) 


(He  had  greatly  inlarged  and  improved  this  Grotto  not 
long  before  his  death  :  and,  by  incrusting  it  about  with  a 
great  number  of  ores  and  minerals  of  the  richest  and  rarest 
kinds,  it  was  become  one  of  the  most  elegant  and  romantic 

267 


retirements  any  where  to  be  seen.  He  has  made  it  the 
subject  of  a  very  pretty  poem  of  a  singular  cast  and 
composition.)  WILLIAM  WARBURTON  (1751) 


Thou  who  shalt  stop,  where  Thames'  translucent  wave 
Shines  a  broad  Mirror  thro'  the  shadowy  Cave  ; 
Where  ling'ring  drops  from  min'ral  Roofs  distill. 
And  pointed  Crystals  break  the  sparkling  Rill, 
Unpolish'd  Gems  no  ray  on  Pride  bestow, 
And  latent  Metals  innocently  glow ; 
Approach.  Great  NATURE  studiously  behold  ! 
And  eye  the  Mine  without  a  wish  for  Gold. 
Approach  :  But  awful  !  Lo  !  th'  Algerian  Grott, 
Where,  nobly  pensive,  ST  JOHN  sate  and  thought ; 
Where  British  sighs  from  dying  WYNDHAM  stole, 
And  the  bright  flame  was  shot  thro5  MARCHMONT'S 

Soul, 

Let  such,  such  only,  tread  this  sacred  Floor, 
Who  dare  to  love  their  Country,  and  be  poor. 

ALEXANDER   POPE 

On  his  GROTTO  at  Twickenham,  composed  of  Marbles , 
Spars,  Gemms,  Ores,  and  Minerals 


The  improving  and  finishing  his  Grott  was  the  favourite 
amusement  of  his  declining  Years  ;  and  the  beauty  of  his 
poetic  genius,  in  the  disposition  and  ornaments  of  this 
romantic  recess,  appears  to  as  much  advantage  as  in  his 
best  contrived  Poems.  WILLIAM  WARBURTON  (1751) 

268 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  VIEW  OF  IT 

Being  under  the  necessity  of  making  a  subterraneous 
passage  to  a  garden  on  the  other  side  of  the  road,  he 
adorned  it  with  fossil  bodies,  and  dignified  it  with  the  title 
of  a  grotto  ;  a  place  of  silence  and  retreat,  from  which  he 
endeavoured  to  persuade  his  friends  and  himself  that  cares 
and  passions  could  be  excluded. 

A  grotto  is  not  often  the  wish  or  pleasure  of  an  English- 
man, who  has  more  frequent  need  to  solicit  than  exclude 
the  sun ;  but  Pope's  excavation  was  requisite  as  an 
entrance  to  his  garden,  and,  as  some  men  try  to  be  proud 
of  their  defects,  he  extracted  an  ornament  from  an  incon- 
venience, and  vanity  produced  a  grotto  where  necessity 
enforced  a  passage.  It  may  be  frequently  remarked  of 
the  studious  and  speculative ;  that  they  are  proud  of  trifles, 
and  that  their  amusements  seem  frivolous  and  childish ;  t 
whether  it  be  that  men  conscious  of  great  reputation 
think  themselves  above  the  reach  of  censure,  and  safe  in 
the  admission  of  negligent  indulgences  or  that  man- 
kind expect  from  elevated  genius  an  uniformity  of  great- 
ness, and  watch  its  degradation  with  malicious  wonder ; 
like  him  who,  having  followed  with  his  eye  an  eagle  into 
the  clouds,  should  lament  that  she  ever  descended  to  a 
perch.  SAMUEL  JOHNSON,  Life  of  Pope  (1781) 


POLYPHEMUS'S 

My  Palace,  in  the  living  Rock,  is  made 

By  Nature's  Hand ;  a  spacious  pleasing  Shade  : 

Which  neither  Heat  can  pierce,  nor  Cold  invade. 

JOHN  DRYDEN,  Acis,  Polyphemus  and  Galatea  (1700) 
From  Ovid's  Metamorphoses  (c.  5  B.C.) 

269 


WILLIAM  HARVEY'S 

He  did  delight  to  be  in  the  darke,  and  told  me  he  could 
then  best  contemplate.  He  had  a  house  heretofore  at 
Coombe,  in  Surrey,  a  good  aire  and  prospect,  where  he 
had  caves  made  in  the  earth,  in  which  in  summer  time 
he  delighted  to  meditate.  JOHN  AUBREY 

Brief  Lives  :  William  Harvey  (c.  1680) 


A  GROTTO  PARTY 

On  Wednesday  night  a  small  Vauxhall  was  acted  for  us 
at  the  grotto  in  the  Elysian  fields,  which  was  illuminated 
with  lamps,  as  were  the  thicket  and  the  two  little  barks  on 
the  lake.  With  a  little  exaggeration,  I  could  make  you 
believe  that  nothing  was  ever  so  delightful. . .  The  evening 
was  more  than  cool,  and  the  destined  spot  anything  but 
dry.  There  were  not  half  lamps  enough,  and  no  music  but 
an  ancient  militia-man,  who  played  cruelly  on  a  squeak- 
ing tabor  and  pipe.  ...  I  could  not  help  laughing  as  I  sur- 
veyed our  troop,  which,  instead  of  tripping  lightly  to 
such  Arcadian  entertainment,  were  hobbling  down  by 
the  balustrades,  wrapped  up  in  cloaks  and  great-coats, 
for  fear  of  catching  cold.  The  Earl,  you  know,  is  bent 
double,  the  Countess  very  lame,  I  am  a  miserable  walker, 
and  the  Princess,  though  as  strong  as  a  Brunswick  lion, 
makes  no  figure  in  going  down  fifty-stone  stairs.  Except 
Lady  Ann,  and  by  courtesy  Lady  Mary,  we  were  none 
of  us  young  enough  for  a  pastoral.  We  supped  in  the 
grotto,  which  is  as  proper  to  this  climate  as  a  sea-coal 
fire  would  be  in  the  dog-days  at  Tivoli. 

HORACE  WALPOLE,  Letter  to  George  Montagu  (1770) 
270 


FOR  A  TOAD 

The  Lincolnshire  lady  who  shewed  him  a  grotto  she  had 
been  making  came  off  no  better  .  .  .  Would  it  not  be  a 
pretty  cool  habitation  in  summer  ?  said  she,  Mr  Johnson  ? 
"  I  think  it  would.  Madam  (replied  he) — for  a  toad." 

HESTHER  Piozzi,  Anecdotes  of  Dr.  Johnson  (1786) 


GROTTOES  ON  THE  CONTINENT 
(a)  Brussels 

From  hence  we  walked  into  the  Park  .  .  .  nor  is  it  less 
plesant  than  if  in  the  most  solitary  recesses,  so  naturally 
is  it  furnish't  with  whatever  may  render  it  agreable, 
melancholy  and  country-like.  Here  is  a  stately  heronry, 
divers  springe  of  water,  artificiall  cascads,  rocks,  grotts  ; 
one  whereof  is  compos'd  of  the  extravagant  roots  of  trees, 
cunninly  built  and  hung  together  with  wires  .  .  . 

From  hence  we  were  led  into  the  Menag,  and  out  of 
that  into  a  most  sweete  and  delicious  garden,  where  was 
another  grott  of  more  neate  and  costly  materials,  full 
of  noble  statues,  and  entertaining  us  with  artificial  musiq ; 
but  the  hedge  of  water,  in  form  of  lattice-worke,  which 
the  fontanier  caused  to  ascend  out  of  the  earth  by 
degrees,  exceedinly  pleased  and  surpris'd  me. 

JOHN  EVELYN,  Diary  (Oct.  8,  1641) 


(b)  Cardinal  Richelieu's  Villa  at  Ruell 

We  then  saw  a  large  and  very  rare  grotto  of  shell-worke, 
in  the  shape  of  satyres  and  other  wild  fancys :  in  the  middle 

271 


stands  a  marble  table,  on  which  a  fountaine  playes  in 
divers  formes  of  glasses,  cupps,  crosses,  fanns,  crownes, 
etc.  Thene  the  fountainiere  represented  a  showre  of  rayne 
from  the  topp,  mett  by  small  jetts  from  below.  At  going 
out,  two  extravagant  musqueteeres  shot  us  with  a  streme 
of  water  from  their  musket  barrells.  Before  this  grotto  is 
a  long  poole  into  which  ran  divers  spouts  of  water  from 
leaden  escalop  basins.  The  viewing  this  paradise  made 
us  late  at  St  Germains. 

Ibid.  (Feb.  27,  1644) 

(c)  St  Germains 

Subterranean  grotts  and  rocks,  where  are  represented  sev- 
erall  objects  in  the  manner  of  sceanes  and  other  motions, 
by  force  of  water,  shewn  by  the  light  of  torches  onely; 
amongst  these  is  Orpheus  with  his  musiq;  and  the  ani- 
malls,  which  dance  after  his  harp ;  in  the  second  is  the 
King  and  Dolphin  ;  in  the  third,  is  Neptune  sounding  his 
trumpet,  his  charriot  drawne  by  sea-horses ;  in  the  fourth, 
the  story  of  Perseus  and  Andromeda  ;  mills,  hermitages  ; 
men  fishing ;  birds  chirping ;  and  many  other  devices. 
There  is  also  a  dry  grott  to  refresh  in ;  all  having  a  fine 
prospect  towards  the  river,  and  the  goodly  country  about 

it,  especially  the  forrest. 

Ibid.  (Feb.  27,  1644) 

(d)  Villa  Borghese 

The  grotto  is  very  rare,  and  represents,  among  other 
devices,  artificial  raine,  and  sundry  shapes  of  vessells, 
flowers,  etc.,  which  is  effected  by  changing  the  heads  of 
the  fountains.  Ibid.  (Nov.  17, 1644) 

272 


(e)  Logo  d'Agnano 

We  tried  the  old  experiment  on  a  dog  in  the  Grotto  del 
Cane,  or  Charon's  Cave.  Whatever  having  life  enters  it, 
presently  expires.  Of  this  we  made  trial  with  two  doggs, 
one  of  which  we  bound  to  a  short  pole  to  guide  him  the 
more  directly  into  the  further  part  of  the  den,  where  he 
was  no  sooner  enter'd  but,  without  the  least  noyse,  or  so 
much  as  a  struggle  ...  we  drew  him  out  dead  to  all 
appearance ;  but  immediately  plunging  him  into  the 
adjoining  lake,  within  lesse  than  halfe  an  hour  he 
recover'd,  and  swimming  to  shore,  ran  away  from  us.  We 
tried  the  same  on  another  dogg,  without  the  application 
of  the  water,  and  left  him  quite  dead.  The  experiment  has 
been  made  on  men,  as  on  that  poore  creature  whom  Peter 
of  Toledo  caus'd  to  go  in ;  likewise  on  some  Turkish 
slaves  ;  two  souldiers,  and  other  foolehardy  persons,  who 
all  perished,  and  could  never  be  recover'd  by  the  water  of 
the  lake,  as  are  doggs  ;  for  which  many  learned  reasons 
have  been  offer'd. 

Ibid.  (Feb.  8,  1645) 


(/)  Grand  Duke's  Villa,  Pratolino 


In  another  grotto  is  Vulcan  and  his  family,  the  walls  rich- 
ly composed  of  coralls,  shells,  copper,  and  marble  figures, 
with  the  hunting  of  severall  beasts,  moving  by  the  force 
of  water.  Here,  having  been  well  wash'd  for  our  curiosity, 
we  went  down  a  large  walk. 

Ibid.  (May  1645) 

273 


THOMAS  BUSHELL'S  GROTTO 

He  maried  .  .  .  and  lived  at  Enston,  Oxon ;  where  having 
some  land  lyeing  on  the  hanging  of  a  hill  faceing  the  south, 
at  the  foot  whereof  runnes  a  fine  cleare  streame  which 
petrifies,  and  where  is  a  pleasant  solitude,  he  spake  to  his 
servant  Jack  Sydenham  to  gett  a  labourer  to  cleare  some 
boscage  which  grew  on  the  side  of  the  hill,  and  also  to  dig 
a  cavity  in  the  hill  to  sitt,  and  read  or  contemplate.  .  .  . 

Here  in  fine  weather  he  would  walke  all  night.  .  .  . 

He  did  not  encumber  him  selfe  with  his  wife,  but  here 
enjoyed  himselfe  thus  in  this  paradise  till  the  war  broke 
out.  .  .  . 

Memorandum : — the  grotto  below  lookes  just  south  ;  so 
that  when  it  artificially  raineth,  upon  the  turning  of  a  cock, 
you  are  enterteined  with  a  rainebow.  In  a  very  little  pond 
(no  bigger  than  a  basin)  opposite  to  the  rock,  and  hard 
by,  stood  (1643,  Aug.  8)  a  Neptune,  neatly  cutt  in  wood, 
holding  his  trident  in  his  hand,  and  ayming  with  it  at  a 
duck  which  perpetually  turned  round  with  him,  and  a 
spaniel  swimming  after  her — which  was  very  pretty. 

JOHN   AUBREY 

Brief  Lives  :  Thomas  Bushell  (1680) 


GROTTO  OF  NAIADS 

The  Grot  he  enter'd,  Pumice  built  the  Hall, 
And  Tophi  made  the  Rustick  of  the  Wall ; 
The  Floor,  soft  Moss,  an  humid  Carpet  spread, 
And  various  shells  the  chequer'd  Roof  inlaid. 
274 


'Twas  now  the  Hour  when  the  declining  Sun 
Two  Thirds  had  of  his  daily  Journey  run  ; 
At  the  spread  Table  Theseus  took  his  Place, 
Next  his  Companions  in  the  daring  Chace  ; .  .  . . 
The  Nymphs  were  Waiters,  and  with  naked  Feet 
In  order  serv'd  the  Courses  of  the  Meat. 
The  Banquet  done,  delicious  Wine  they  brought, 
Of  one  transparent  Gem  the  Cup  was  wrought. 

OVID 

Metamorphoses  (c.  5  B.C.) 
Trans.  Mr.  Vernon  (1713) 


At  the  head  of  the  port  there  is  a  large-leafed  olive  ;  and 
near  it  a  delightful  cave,  shaded,  sacred  to  the  Nymphs, 
who  are  called  Naiads.  And  there  are  stone  cups  and 
casks  in  it ;  and  there  then  the  bees  stow  away  their 
honey.  And  in  it  there  are  stone  distaffs  of  a  great  length, 
and  there  the  Nymphs  weave  their  sea-purple  robes,  a 
marvel  to  behold.  And  in  it  there  are  perpetual  flowing 
waters ;  and  it  has  two  doors  :  these  to  the  North  to  be 
descended  by  men,  but  those  on  the  other  hand,  to  the 
South,  are  more  sacred ;  nor  do  men  enter  at  all  by  that 
way  ;  but  it  is  the  way  of  the  immortals. 

HOMER 

Odyssey 9  Book  XIII 
Trans.  T.  A.  Buckley  (1860) 


275 


HANDICRAFTS 


GRINDING,  SPINNING,  AND  WEAVING 


To  encounter  feast  with  houswifry, 
In  one  roome  fiftie  women  did  apply 
Their  several!  tasks.  Some,  apple-colourd  corne 
Ground  in  faire  quernes,  and  some  did  spindles 

turne, 

Some  worke  in  loomes  ;  no  hand,  least  rest  receives  ; 
But  all  had  motion,  apt  as  Aspen  leaves, 
And  from  the  weeds  they  wove,  (so  fast  they  laid, 
And  so  thicke  thrust  together,  thred  by  thred) 
That  th'oile  (of  which  the  wooll  had  drunke  his  fill) 
Did  with  his  moisture,  in  light  dewes  distill. 
As  much  as  the  Phaeacian  men  exceld 
All  other  countrimen,  in  art  to  build 
A  swift-saild  ship  ;  so  much  the  women  there, 
For  worke  of  webs,  past  other  women  were. 
Past  meane,  by  Pallas  meanes,  they  understood 
The  grace  of  good  works  ;  and  had  wits  as  good. 

HOMER 

Odyssey.  Book  VII 
Trans.  George  Chapman  (1614) 

276 


MAKING  DRESDEN  CHINA  OF  LEATHER 

I  know  no  happier-looking  woman  of  the  tranquilly  happy 
sort  than  Mrs.  J.  since  she  took  to  making  Dresden  china 
of  leather  for  the  Roman  Catholic  bazaars. 

JANE   WELSH 

Letter  to  William  Dods  (Unpublished.  No  date) 


HANDSOME  PERSONS 


WHAT  HUMAN  BEAUTY  Is 

Touching  corporall  beautie,  before  I  goe  any  further,  it 
were  necessarie  I  knew  whether  we  are  yet  agreed  about 
her  description.  It  is  very  likely  that  we  know  not  well, 
what  beautie  either  in  nature  or  in  generall  is,  since  we  give 
so  many,  and  attribute  so  diverse  formes  to  humane 
beautie.  ...  Of  which  if  there  were  any  naturall  or  lively 
description,  we  should  generally  know  it,  as  we  doe  the 
heat  of  fire.  We  imagine  and  faine  her  formes,  as  our 
fantaisies  lead  us.  ...  The  Indians  describe  it  blacke  and 
swarthy,  with  blabbered-thick  lips,  with  a  broad  and  flat 
nose,  the  inward  gristle  whereof  they  loade  with  great 
gold-rings,  hanging  downe  to  their  mouth,  and  their 
neather  lips  with  great  circlets  beset  with  precious  stones, 
which  cover  all  their  chins,  deeming  it  an  especiall  grace  to 
shew  their  teeth  to  the  roots.  In  Peru>  the  greatest  eares 

277 


ar  ever  esteemed  the  fairest.  .  .  .  There  are  other  Nations 
who  endevour  to  make  there  teeth  as  blacke  as  Jeat,  and 
skorne  to  have  them  white,  and  in  other  places  they  die 
them  red.  Not  onely  in  the  province  ofBaske,  but  in  other 
places,  women  are  accounted  fairest  when  their  heads 
are  shaven  ;  and  which  is  strange,  in  some  of  the  Northerly 
frozen-countries,  as  Plinie  affirmeth.  Those  of  Mexico, 
esteeme  the  littlenesse  of  their  foreheads,  as  one  of  the 
chiefest  beauties.  .  .  .  Amongst  us,  one  would  have  her 
white,  another  browne,  one  soft  and  delicate,  another 
strong  and  lustie :  some  desire  wantonnesse  and  blithnesse, 
and  othersome  sturdinesse  and  majestic  to  be  joyned  with 
it.  Even  as  the  preheminence  in  beautie,  which  Plato 
ascribeth  unto  the  sphericall  figure,  the  Epicurians  refer 
the  same  into  the  Piramidall  or  Squat.  . . .  We  are  excelled 
in  comelinesse  by  many  living  creatures.  .  .  .  Concerning 
those  of  the  Sea  .  .  .  both  in  colour,  in  neatnesse,  in 
smoothnesse,  and  in  disposition,  we  must  give  place  unto 
them  :  which  in  all  qualities  we  must  likewise  do  to  the 
ayrie  ones.  MICHEL  DE  MONTAIGNE 

Essays  (1580).  Trans.  John  Florio  (1603) 


LA  BEL  PUCEL 

And  first  of  all,  my  hart  gan  to  learne 
Right  well  to  regester,  in  remembraunce 
Howe  that  her  beauty  I  might  then  discerne 
From  toppe  to  tooe,  endued  with  pleasaunce, 
Whiche  I  shall  shewe,  withouten  variaunce. 
Her  shining  heere  so  properly  she  dresses 
Aloft  her  foreheade,  with  fayre  golden  tresses. 

278 


Her  forheade  stepe,  with  fayre  browes  ybent, 

Her  eyen  gray,  her  nose  straight  and  fayre. 

In  her  white  cheekes  the  faire  bloude  it  went 

As  among  the  wite,  the  redde  to  repayre. 

Her  mouthe  right  small,  her  breathe  swete  of  ay  re, 

Her  lippes  soft,  and  ruddy  as  a  rose. 

No  hart  on  live,  but  it  would  him  appose. 

With  a  little  pitte  in  her  well  favoured  chynne, 

Her  neck  long,  as  white  as  any  lilly, 

With  vaynes  blewe,  in  which  the  bloude  ranne  in, 

Her  pappes  rounde,  and  therto  right  prettye, 

Her  armes  slender,  and  of  goodly  bodye, 

Her  fingers  small  and  therto  right  long, 

White  as  the  milke  with  blewe  vaynes  among. 

Her  fete  proper,  she  gartred  well  her  hose. 
I  never  saw  so  fayre  a  creature. 
Nothing  she  lacketh,  as  I  do  suppose, 
That  is  longyng  to  faire  dame  Nature. 
Yet  more  over,  her  countenaunce  so  pure 
So  swete,  so  lovely,  would  any  hart  enspire 
With  fervent  love,  to  attayne  his  desire. 

STEPHEN   HAWES 

The  Passetyme  of  Pleasure  (1509) 


SHE  SMILED  LIKE  A  HOLIDAY 

Sweet  she  was,  as  kind  a  love 
As  ever  fetter'd  swayne ; 

Never  such  a  daynty  one 
Shall  man  enjoy  again 
279 


Sett  a  thousand  on  a  rowe 

I  forbid  that  any  showe 
Ever  the  like  of  her 

Hey  nonny  nonny  noe. 

Face  she  had  of  filberd  hue. 

And  bosm'd  like  a  swan ; 
Back  she  had  of  bended  ewe. 

And  wasted  by  a  span. 
Haire  she  had  as  black  as  crowe 

From  the  head  unto  the  toe, 
Downe,  downe,  all  over  her 

Hye  nonny  nonny  noe. 

She  smiled  like  a  Holy-day 

And  simpred  like  the  Spring, 
She  pranck't  it  like  a  popingaie 

And  like  a  swallow  sing, 
She  trip't  it  like  a  barren  doe, 

She  strutted  like  a  gor-crowe, 
Which  made  the  men  so  fond  of  her 

Hye  nonny  nonny  noe. 

ANON  (c.  1640) 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY 

When  he  descended  downe  the  mount, 
His  personage  seemed  most  divine, 
A  thousand  graces  one  might  count, 
Upon  his  lovely  cheereful  eine, 
To  heare  him  speake  and  sweetely  smile, 
You  were  in  Paradise  the  while. 
280 


A  sweete  attractive  kinde  of  grace, 

A  full  assurance  given  by  lookes, 

Continuall  comfort  in  a  face, 

The  lineaments  of  Gospell  books, 
I  trowe  that  countenaunce  cannot  lie, 
Whose  thoughts  are  legible  in  the  eie 

Was  never  eie,  did  see  that  face, 
Was  never  eare,  did  heare  that  tong, 
Was  never  minde,  did  minde  his  grace, 
That  ever  thought  the  travell  long, 
But  eies,  and  eares,  and  every  thought 
Were  with  his  sweete  perfections  caught. 

MATTHEW   ROYDON 

An  Elegie,  or  friends  passion  for  his  Astrophill 
The  Phoenix  Nest  (1593) 


ADONIS 

To  see  his  face,  the  Lyon  walkt  along, 

Behind  some  hedge,  because  he  wold  not  fear  him  : 

To  recreate  himself,  when  he  hath  song, 

The  Tiger  would  be  tame,  and  gently  heare  him ; 

If  he  had  spoke,  the  Wolfe  would  leave  his  pray, 

And  never  fright  the  silly  lamb  that  day. 

When  he  beheld  his  shadow  in  a  brooke, 
The  fishes  spred  on  it  their  golden  gils  : 
When  he  was  by,  the  birds  such  pleasure  tooke, 
That  some  would  sing,  some  other  in  their  bils 
Would  bring  him  mulberries,  and  ripe  red  chereries, 
He  fed  them  with  his  sight,  they  him  with  berries. 

W.  SHAKESPEARE 

Venus  and  Adonis  (1593.  Edition  1607) 
281 


SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH 

He  was  a  tall,  handsome,  and  bold  man.  .  .  .  His  beard 
turned  up  naturally.  ...  He  had  a  most  remarkeable 
aspect,  an  exceeding  high  forehead,  long-faced,  and  sour 
eie-lidded,  a  kind  of  pigge-eie. 

JOHN  AUBREY,  Brief  Live s  (c.  1680) 


RICHARD  LOVELACE 

Richard  Lovelace,  esq  :  he  was  a  most  beautifull  gentle- 

man*  Geminum,  seu  lumina,  sydus, 

Et  dignos  Baccho  digitos,  et  Apolline  crines, 
Impubesque  genas,  et  eburnea  colla,  decusque 
Oris,  et  in  niveo  mustum  candore  ruborem. 

Obiit  in  a  cellar  in  Long  Acre,  a  little  before  the 
restauration  of  his  majestie.  .  .  .  One  of  the  handsomest 
men  of  England.  Ibid. 

VENETIA  DIGBY 

She  was  a  most  beautiful  desireable  creature  ;  .  .  .  She 
had  a  most  lovely  and  sweet-turn'd  face,  delicate  darke- 
browne  haire.  She  had  a  perfect  healthy  constitution ; 
strong  ;  good  skin  ;  well-proportioned  ;  much  enclining  to 
a  Bona  Roba.  .  .  Her  face,  a  short  oval ;  darke-browne 
eie-browe,  about  which  much  sweetness,  as  also  in  the 
opening  of  her  eie-lidds.  The  colour  of  her  cheekes 
was  just  that  of  the  damaske  rose,  which  is  neither 
too  hott  nor  too  pale.  She  was  of  a  just  stature,  not  very 
tall.  Ibid. 

282 


COMMONLY  A  FOOL 
If  she  be  faire,  as  the  saying  is,  she  is  commonly  a  foole. 

ROBERT  BURTON 

The  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  (1621.  Edition  1632) 

OUT-FLOURISHING  MAY 

I  Beheld  her  on  a  Day, 
When  her  looke  out-flourisht  May  ; 
And  her  dressing  did  out-brave 
All  the  Pride,  the  fields  than  have 

BEN  JONSON 

A  Celebration  of  Chans  :  How  he  saw  her  (published  1640) 

LOVE'S  STAR  WHEN  IT  RISETH 

See  the  Chariot  at  hand  here  of  love 

Wherein  my  Lady  rideth  ! 
Each  that  drawes  is  a  Swan,  or  a  Dove 

And  well  the  Carre  Love  guideth 
As  she  goes,  all  hearts  doe  duty 

Unto  her  beauty ; 

And  enamour'd,  doe  wish,  so  they  might 
But  enjoy  such  a  sight, 
That  they  still  were,  to  run  by  her  side, 
Through  Swords,  through  Seas,  whether  she 
would  ride. 

Doe  but  looke,  on  her  eyes  !  They  doe  light 
All  that  Loves  World  compriseth  ! 

Doe  but  looke  on  her  Haire,  it  is  bright 
As  Loves  starre,  when  it  riseth  ! 

283 


Doe  but  marke  her  forhead's  smoother 

Then  words  that  soothe  her  ! 

And  from  her  arched  browes,  such  a  grace 

Sheds  it  selfe  through  the  face, 
As  alone  there  triumphs  to  the  life 
All  the  Gaine,  all  the  Good,  of  the  Elements 
strife. 

Have  you  scene  but  a  bright  Lillie  grow. 

Before  rude  hands  have  touch'd  it  ? 
Ha'you  mark'd  but  the  fall  o'the  Snow 

Before  the  soyle  hath  smutch'd  it  ? 
Ha'you  felt  the  wooll  of  Bever  ? 

Or  Swans  Downe  ever  ? 
Or  have  smelt  o'the  bud  o'the  Brier  ? 

Or  tasted  the  Nard  in  the  fire  ? 
Or  have  tasted  the  bag  of  the  Bee  ? 
O  so  white  !  O  so  soft  !  O  so  sweet  is  she  ! 

Ibid.  Her  Triumph 


WENCHES  WITH  GREAT  EYES 

Because  great  eyes  in  Turkey  are  esteemed  an  excellencie, 
therefore  Mahomet,  well  knowing  their  desire,  promiseth 
them  in  his  Paradise,  wenches  with  great  eyes  like  saucers. 

JOHN  BULWER 

Anthropometamorphosis,  or  The  Artificial  Changeling 

(1650) 

NECESSITY  OF  A  NOSE 

That  face  must  needs  be  plain  that  wants  a  nose.     Ibid. 

284 


A  Man  shall  see  Faces,  that  if  you  examine  them  Part 
by  Part,  you  shall  finde  never  a  good  ;  And  yet  all  together 
doe  well. 

FRANCIS   BACON 

Essay es  :  Of  Beauty  (1625) 


JANE  WELSH 

As  a  child  she  was  remarkable  for  her  large  black  eyes 
with  their  long  curved  lashes.  As  a  girl,  she  was  extremely 
pretty — a  graceful  and  beautifully  formed  figure,  upright 
and  supple,  a  delicate  complexion  of  creamy  white  with  a 
pale  rose  tint  in  the  cheeks,  lovely  eyes  full  of  fire  and  soft- 
ness, and  with  great  depths  of  meaning.  Her  head  was 
finely  formed,  with  a  noble  arch  and  a  broad  forehead. 
Her  other  features  were  not  regular ;  but  they  did  not 
prevent  her  conveying  all  the  impression  of  being  beauti- 
ful. ...  She  danced  with  much  grace. 

GERALDINE  JEWSBURY 

In  Memoriam  Jane  Welsh  Carlyle  (1866) 


AN  EVANESCENT  CHILD 

My  first  dash  into  poetry  was  as  early  as  1800.  It  was  the 
ebullition  of  a  passion  for  my  first  Cousin  Margaret 
Parker  .  .  .  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  evanescent  be- 
ings. .  .  .  Her  dark  eyes  !  her  long  eye-lashes  !  her  com- 
pletely Greek  cast  of  face  and  figure  !  I  was  then  about 
twelve — She  rather  older,  perhaps  a  year.  ...  I  do 

285 


not  recollect  scarcely  anything  equal  to  the  transparent 
beauty  of  my  cousin.  .  .  .  She  looked  as  if  she  had  been 
made  out  of  a  rainbow — all  beauty  and  peace. 

LORD  BYRON 

Detached  Thoughts  (1821-2) 


LORD  BYRON 

In  external  appearance  Byron  realised  that  ideal  standard 
with  which  imagination  adorns  genius.  He  was  in  the 
prime  of  life,  thirty-five  ;  of  middle  height,  five  feet  eight 
and  a  half  inches ;  regular  features,  without  a  stain  or  fur- 
row on  his  pallid  skin,  his  shoulders  broad,  chest  open, 
body  and  limbs  finely  proportioned.  His  small,  highly 
finished  head  and  curly  hair  had  an  airy  and  graceful 
appearance  from  the  massiveness  and  length  of  his  throat ; 
you  saw  his  genius  in  his  eyes  and  lips.  In  short,  Nature 
could  do  little  more  than  she  had  done  for  him. . . .  There 
was  no  peculiarity  in  his  dress,  it  was  adapted  to  the  climate ; 
a  tartan  jacket  braided — he  said  it  was  the  Gordon  pat- 
tern, and  that  his  mother  was  of  that  ilk.  A  blue  velvet 
cap  with  a  gold  band,  and  very  loose  nankeen  trousers, 
strapped  down  so  as  to  cover  his  feet :  his  throat  was  not 
bare,  as  represented  in  drawings. 

E.  J.  TRELAWNEY 

Recollections  of  the  Last  Days  of  Shelley  and  Byron  (1858) 


His  appearance  at  that  time  was  the  finest  I  ever  saw  it, 
a  great  deal  finer  than  it  was  afterwards,  when  he  was 
abroad.  He  was  fatter  than  before  his  marriage,  but  only 

286 


just  enough  so  to  complete  the  manliness  of  his  person ; 
and  the  turn  of  his  head  and  countenance  had  a  spirit  and 
leevation  in  it,  which  though  not  unmixed  with  disquiet, 
gave  him  altogether  a  nobler  look  than  I  ever  knew  him  to 
have,  before  or  since.  His  dress,  which  was  black,  with 
white  trowsers,  and  which  he  wore  buttoned  close  over  the 
body,  completed  the  succinctness  and  gentlemanliness  OA 
his  appearance. 

LEIGH   HUNT 
Lord  Byron  and  some  of  his  Contemporaries  (1828) 


THE  HANDSOME  COLONEL 

He  was  of  a  middle  stature,  of  a  slender  and  exactly 
well-proportion'd  shape  in  all  parts,  his  complexion  faire, 
his  hayre  of  light  browne,  very  thick  sett  in  his  youth, 
softer  than  the  finest  silke,  and  curling  into  loose  greate 
rings  att  the  ends  ;  his  eies  of  a  lively  grey,  well-shaped 
and  full  of  life  and  vigour,  graced  with  many  becoming 
motions  ;  his  visage  thinne,  his  mouth  well  made,  and  his 
lipps  very  ruddy  and  gracefull,  allthough  the  nether  chap 
shut  over  the  upper,  yett  it  was  in  such  a  manner  as  was 
not  unbecoming ;  his  teeth  were  even  and  white  as  the 
purest  ivory,  his  chin  was  something  long,  and  the  mold 
of  his  face,  his  forehead  was  not  very  high  ;  his  nose  was 
rays'd  and  sharp,  but  withall  he  had  a  most  amiable 
countenance,  which  carried  in  it  something  of  magnani- 
mity and  majesty  mixt  with  sweetenesse,  that  at  the  same 
time  bespoke  love  and  awe  in  all  that  saw  him  ;  his  skin 
was  smooth  and  white,  his  legs  and  feete  excellently  well- 
made,  he  was  quick  in  his  pace  and  turnes,  nimble  and 

287 


active  and  gracefull  in  all  his  motions,  he  was  apt  for  any 
bodily  exercise,  and  any  that  he  did  became  him ;  ...  he 
was  wonderful  neate,  cleanly,  and  gentile  in  his  habitt, 
and  had  a  very  good  fancy  in  it,  but  he  left  off  very  early 
the  wearing  of  aniething  that  was  costly,  yett  in  his  plainest 
negligent  habitt  appear'd  very  much  a  gentleman. 

LUCY   HUTCHINSON 

To  her  Children  concerning  their  Father  (c.  1665) 


CHINESE  BEAUTIES 

Europeans  have  a  quite  different  idea  of  beauty  from  us. 
When  I  reflect  on  the  small-footed  perfections  of  an 
Eastern  beauty,  how  is  it  possible  I  should  have  eyes  for 
a  woman  whose  feet  are  ten  inches  long  ?  I  shall  never 
forget  the  beauties  of  my  native  city  of  Nanfew.  How 
very  broad  their  faces  !  how  very  short  their  noses  ! 
how  very  little  their  eyes  !  how  very  thin  their  lips  !  how 
very  black  their  teeth  !  the  snow  on  the  tops  of  Bao  is  not 
fairer  than  their  cheeks ;  and  their  eyebrows  as  small  as  the 
line  by  the  pencil  of  Quamsi.  Here  a  lady  with  such  per- 
fections would  be  frightful;  Dutch  and  Chinese  beauties, 
indeed,  have  some  resemblance,  but  English  women  are 
entirely  different;  red  cheeks,  big  eyes,  and  teeth  of  a  most 
odious  whiteness,  are  not  only  seen  here,  but  wished  for  ; 
and  then  they  have  such  masculine  feet,  as  actually  serve 
some  for  walking ! 

OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

Letters  from  a  Citizen  of  the  World  to  his  Friends  in  the 

East  (1762) 
288 


NOTHING  LIKE  IT 

This  amazing,  confounding,  admirable,  amiable  Beauty, 
than  which  in  all  Natures  treasure,  (saith  Isocrates),  there 
is  nothing  so  majesticall  and  sacred,  nothing  so  divine,  lovely, 
pretious,  'tis  natures  Crown,  gold  and  glory  ;  . .  .  speak  Alci- 
baides,  though  drunk,  we  will  willingly  hear  thee  as  thou 
art.  Faults  in  such  are  no  faults.  For  when  the  said 
Alcibiades  had  stoln  Anytus  his  gold  and  silver  plate,  he 
was  so  far  from  prosecuting  so  foul  a  fact  (though  every 
man  else  condemned  his  imprudence  and  insolvency) 
that  he  wished  it  had  been  more,  and  much  better  (he 
loved  him  dearly)  for  his  sweet  sake.  No  worth  is  eminent 
in  such  lovely  persons,  all  imperfection  hid ; ...  for  hearing, 
sight,  touch,  etc.,  our  mind  and  all  our  senses  are  capti- 
vated. .  .  .  O  vis  superba  formae,  a  Goddess  beauty  is, 
whom  the  very  Gods  adore,  .  .  .  she  is  Amoris  domina, 
loves  harbinger,  loves  loadstone,  a  witch,  a  charm,  etc. 
Beauty  is  a  dowre  of  it  self,  a  sufficient  patrimony,  an 
ample  commendation,  an  accurate  epistle.  Beauty  deserves 
a  Kingdome,  and  more  have  got  this  honour  and  eternity  for 
their  beauty  than  for  all  other  vertues  besides  :  and  such  as 
are  fair  are  worthy  to  be  honoured  of  God  and  men.  That 
Idalian  Ganymedes  was  therefore  fetched  by  Jupiter  into 
Heaven,  Hephestion  dear  to  Alexander,  Antinous  to  Adrian. 
Plato  calls  beauty,  for  that  cause,  natures  master-piece. 
.  .  .  They  will  adore,  cringe,  complement,  and  bow  to  a 
common  wench  (if  she  be  fair)  as  if  she  were  a  noble 
woman,  a  Countess,  a  Queen,  or  a  goddess.  Those 
intemperate  young  men  of  Greece  erected  at  Delphi  a 
golden  Image,  with  infinite  cost,  to  the  eternal  memory  of 
Phryne  the  curtizan,  as  JElian  relates,  for  she  was  a  most 
beautiful  woman.  Thus  yong  men  will  adore  and  honour 
KP  289 


beauty ;  nay  Kings  themselves  I  say  will  .  .  .  voluntarily 
submit  their  soveraignty  to  a  lovely  woman.  .  .  .  When 
they  have  got  gold  and  silver,  they  submit  all  to  a  beautiful 
woman,  give  themselves  wholly  to  Her,  gape  and  gaze  on  her, 
and  all  men  desire  her  more  than  gold  or  silver,  or  any 
pretious  thing  :  they  will  leave  father  and  mother,  and 
venture  their  lives  for  her. .  .  .  When  as  Troy  was  taken,  and 
the  wars  ended  .  .  .  angry  Menelaus,  with  rage  and  fury 
armed,  came  with  his  sword  drawn  to  have  killed  Helena 
with  his  own  hands,  as  being  the  sole  cause  of  all  those 
wars  and  miseries  :  but  when  he  saw  her  fair  face,  as  one 
amazed  at  her  divine  beauty,  he  let  his  weapon  fall,  and 
embraced  her  besides,  he  had  no  power  to  strike  so  sweet 
a  creature.  .  .  .  Hiperides  the  orator,  when  Phryne  his 
client  was  accused  at  Athens  for  her  lewdness,  used  no 
other  defence  in  her  cause,  but  tearing  her  upper 
garment,  disclosed  her  naked  breast  to  the  Judges,  with 
which  comeliness  of  her  body,  and  amiable  gesture,  they 
were  so  moved  and  astonished,  that  they  did  acquit  her 
forthwith,  and  let  her  go.  O  noble  piece  of  Justice,  mine 
author  exclaims,  and  who  is  he  that  would  not  rather 
lose  his  seat  and  robes,  forfeit  his  office,  than  give  sentence 
against  the  majesty  of  beauty  ?  Such  prerogatives  have 
fair  persons,  and  they  alone  are  free  from  danger.  Parth- 
enopaeus  was  so  lively  and  fair,  that  when  he  fought  in  the 
Theban  wars,  if  his  face  had  been  by  chance  bare,  no 
enemy  would  offer  to  strike  at,  or  hurt  him.  Such  im- 
munities hath  beauty ;  beasts  themselves  are  moved  with 
it.  Sinalda  was  a  woman  of  such  excellent  feature,  and  a 
Queen,  that  when  she  was  to  be  trodden  on  by  wild 
horses  for  a  punishment,  the  wild  beasts  stood  in  admiration 
of  her  person  .  .  .  and  would  not  hurt  her.  ...  I  could  tell 
you  such  another  story  of  a  spindle  that  was  fired  by  a 

290 


fair  ladies  looks,  or  fingers,  some  say,  I  know  not  well 
whether,  but  fired  it  was  by  report,  and  of  a  cold  bath 
that  suddenly  smoaked,  and  was  very  hot,  when  naked 
Caelia  came  into  it  ...  men  are  mad,  stupifyed  many 
times  at  the  first  sight  of  beauty,  amazed,  as  that  fisher- 
man in  Aristaenetus,  that  espied  a  maid  bathing  herself 
by  the  Sea  side. . . .  Charmides  in  Plato  was  a  proper  young 
man,  .  .  .  whensoever  fair  Charmides  came  abroad,  they 
seem'd  all  to  be  in  love  with  him.  .  .  .  the  Athenian  Lasses 
stared  on  Alcibiades ;  Sapho  and  the  Mitilean  women  on 
Phaon  the  fair.  Such  lovely  sights  do  not  onely  please, 
entise,  but  ravish  and  amaze.  Cleonimus,  a  delicate  and 
tender  youth,  present  at  a  feast  which  Androcles  his  uncle 
made  in  Piraeos  at  Athens,  when  he  sacrificed  to  Mercury, 
so  stupified  the  guests,  .  .  .  that  they  could  not  eat  their 
meat,  they  sate  all  supper  time  gazing,  glancing  at  him, 
stealing  looks,  and  admiring  of  his  beauty.  Many  will 
condemn  these  men  that  are  so  enamoured,  for  fools  ; 
but  some  again  commend  them  for  it.  ...  Beauty  is 
to  be  preferred.  .  .  .  Great  Alexander  married  Roxane,  a 
poor  mans  child,  onely  for  her  person.  'Twas  well  done 
of  Alexander,  and  heroically  done,  I  admire  him  for  it. 

ROBERT   BURTON 

Anatomy  of  Melancholy  (1621.  Edition  1652) 


HELEN'S  FRIENDS  SING 

In  Sparta,  long  agoe,  where  Menelaus  wore  the  crowne, 
Twelve  noble  Virgins,  daughters  to  the  greatest  in  the 

towne  .  .  . 

Danst  at  the  chamber  doore  of  Helena  the  Queene, 
What  time  this  Menelay,  the  younger  son  of  Atreus, 

291 


Did  marry  with  this  lovely  daughter  of  Prince  Tyndarus  ; 
And  therwithal,  at  eve,  a  wedding  song  they  jointly  sung. 
With  such  a  shuffling  of  their  feete  that  all  the  palace  rung. 

Fair  Bridegroome  do  you  sleep  ?  Hath  slumber  all  your 

lims  possesst. 

What,  are  you  drousie,  or  hath  wine  your  bodie  so  oppresst 
That  you  are  gone  to  bed  ?  For  if  you  needes  would  take 

your  rest, 
You  should  have  tane  a  season  meete.  Mean  time,  till  it 

be  daie, 
Suffer  the  Bride  with  us,  and  with  her  mother  deere  to 

plaie.  .  .  . 

For  we,  her  peers  in  age,  whose  course  of  life  is  evne  the 

same, 

Who  at  Eurotas  streames  like  men  are  oiled  to  the  game  : 
And  foure  times  sixtie  maides,  of  all  the  weemen  youth 

we  are ; 

Of  these  none  wants  a  fault,  if  her  with  Hellen  we  compare, 
Like  as  the  rising  Morning  shewes  a  gratefull  lightening, 
When  sacred  night  is  past,  and  winter  nowe  lets  loose  the 

spring, 

So  glittering  Hellen  shinde  among  the  maides,  lustie  and  tal, 
As  is  the  furrowe  in  a  field  that  far  outstretcheth  al ; 
Or  in  a  garden  is  a  Cypres  tree ;  or  in  a  trace 
A  steede  of  Thessalie  ;  so  shee  to  Sparta  was  a  grace.  .  .  . 

O  faire,  O  lovely  Maide,  a  matrone  now  is  made  of  thee  ! 
But  wee  wil  everie  spring,  unto  the  leaves  in  meadowes  goe 
To  gather  Garlands  sweete,  and  there,  not  with  a  little 

woe, 

Will  often  think  of  thee.  .  .  .  ANON 

Sixe  Idillia  from  Theocritus  translated  into  English 

verse  (1588) 

292 


HAPPY  DEATHS 


OF  LAUGHTER 

Philemon,  a  Comick  Poet,  died  with  extreme  laughter  at 

the  conceit  of  seeing  an  asse  eate  figs.       THOMAS  NASHE 

The  Unfortunate  Traveller  (1594) 


OF  A  GRAPE-STONE 

The  manner  of  his  [Anacreon's]  death  is  said  to  have  been 
very  extraordinary,  for  they  tell  us  he  was  choaked  with 
a  grape-stone,  which  he  swallowed  as  he  was  regaling  on 
some  new  wine.  Mr  Cowley,  who  has  so  happily  imitated 
the  style  and  manner  of  Anacreon,  has  honoured  him 
with  an  elegy  in  his  own  strain,  which  concludes  in  this 
manner : 

It  grieves  me  when  I  see  what  Fate 
Does  on  the  best  of  Mankind  wait. 
Poets  or  Lovers  let  them  be, 
'Tis  neither  Love  nor  Poesie 
Can  arm  against  Deaths  smallest  dart 
The  Poets  Head,  or  Lovers  Heart. 
293 


But  when  their  Life  in  its  decline. 

Touches  th'  Inevitable  Line, 

All  the  Worlds  Mortal  to  'em  then, 

And  Wine  is  Aconite  to  men. 

Nay  in  DeatJis  Hand  the  Grape-stone  proves 

As  strong  as  Thunder  is  injoves. 

WILLIAM   OWEN  AND  WILLIAM  JOHNSTON 
Biographical  Dictionary  (1755) 


OF  MILK 

Or,  as  Fabius  a  Senator  of  Rome,  and  Lord  chiefe  Justice 
besides,  who  in  a  draught  of  milk  fortuned  to  swallow  a 
small  haire,  which  strangled  him. 

PLINY,  Natural  History  (c.  77) 
Trans.  Philemon  Holland  (1601) 


A  DAINTY  DEATH 

Heliogabalus,  the  most  dissolute  man  of  the  world, 
amidst  his  riotous  sensualities,  intended,  whensoever 
occasion  should  force  him  to  it,  to  have  a  daintie  death. 
Which,  that  it  might  not  degenerate  from  the  rest  of  his 
life,  he  had  purposely  caused  a  stately  towre  to  be  built, 
the  nether  part  and  fore-court  whereof  was  floored  with 
boardes  richly  set  and  enchased  with  gold  and  precious 
stones,  from-off  which  he  might  headlong  thro  we  himselfe 
downe  :  He  had  also  caused  cordes  to  be  made  of  gold 
and  crimson  silke  there  with  to  strangle  himselfe:  and  a  rich 

294 


golden  rapier,  to  thrust  himselfe  through :  and  kept  poison 
in  boxes  of  Emeraldes  and  Topases,  to  poison  himselfe 
with,  according  to  the  humor  he  might  have,  to  chuse 
which  of  these  deaths  should  please  him. 

MICHEL  DE   MONTAIGNE 

Essays  :  Of  judging  of  others  death  (1580) 
Trans.  John  Florio  (1603) 


A   HlPERBOREAN  NATION 

Plirtie  reporteth  of  a  certaine  Hiperborean  nation,  wherin, 
by  reason  of  the  mild  temperature  of  the  aire,  the  inhabi- 
tants thereof  commonly  never  dye,  but  when  they  please 
to  make  themselves  away,  and  that  being  weary  and  tired 
with  living,  they  are  accustomed  at  the  end  of  a  long-long 
age,  having  first  made  merry  and  good  cheare  with  their 
friends,  from  the  top  of  a  high-steepy  rocke,  appointed 
for  that  purpose,  to  cast  themselves  headlong  into  the 

sea-  MICHEL  DE  MONTAIGNE 

Essays  :  A  Custom  of  the  Isle  of  Cea  (1580) 
Trans.  John  Florio  (1603) 


AN  ASTRONOMER 

Caius  Gallus  ...  in  a  good  old  Age,  as  he  was  sitting  in 
his  Study,  with  his  Head  and  his  Hands  full  of  his  Astron- 
omy >  went  away  as  peaceably  as  an  Infant ;  and  as  it 
happened,  while  I  was  in  the  Room  with  him. 

CICERO,  De  Senectute  (45  B.C.) 
Trans.  Samuel  Parker  (1704) 

295 


SLIDING  INTO  PORT 


For  either  Death  puts  the  Soul  out  of  being,  and  there's 
an  end  of  the  matter;  or  else  it  translates  it  to  a  State  of  in- 
defeasible Security,  and  then  we  cannot  wish  for  a  happier 
Change.  .  .  .  Can  any  Thing  be  more  natural  than  for  a 
Man  to  die  in  his  Old  Age  ?  ...  An  Old  Man's  Trunk 
wastes  kindly,  takes  its  own  Time,  and  glimmers  off  into 
Ashes.  So  agen,  'tis  harsh  and  violent  to  pluck  an  Apple 
from  the  Tree  before  'tis  ripe  ;  let  it  hang  till  the  Sun  has 
fully  completed  its  Maturation,  and  then  'twil  soon  fall  of 
its  own  Accord.  ...  As  I  advance  nearer  and  nearer  to  the 
finishing  Crisis,  I  look  upon  myself  as  making  to  Shore, 
and  upon  the  Point  of  sliding  into  Harbour  after  a  tedious 
Voyage. . . .  How  fortunate  is  the  Man  that  retains  all  the 
Powers  of  his  Soul  and  the  Use  of  his  Senses  unimpair'd 
till  Nature's  full  Time  is  up,  and  she  comes  to  take  her 
own  Work  to  Pieces  in  her  own  Way.  .  .  .  'Twas  Solon's 
Ambition  and  a  celebrated  Wish  of  his,  That  whenever  he 
dy'd,  his  Friends  would  take  it  to  Heart,  and  put  on  a  Pomp 
of  Sorrow  for  him  ;  .  .  .  I  declare  for  Ennius  against  him, 
Nemo  me  lacrymis,  etc. 

Kind  Heaven  !  Whene're  it  comes  to  be  my  Turn, 
Avert  wry  Funeral  Faces  from  my  Urn. 

3Tis  very  unaccountable  (thought  he)  that  People  should 
make  such  a  Rout  about  dying,  when  'tis  the  ready  Road 
to  a  State  of  Immortality.  As  for  Agonies  and  Convulsions 
in  the  Article  of  expiring,  they  are  over  in  a  trice.  .  .  .  And 
then  comes  on  either  a  final  Cessation  of  all  Perceptions, 
or  else  the  most  refin'd  or  improv'd  ones.  .  .  .  Besides,  as 

296 


far  as  I  can  find  by  myself,  a  Man  may  be  cloy'd  and 
surfeited  with  one  Thing  after  another  in  this  World ;  till 
it  conies  to  that  pass  with  him  that  Life  its  self  shall  lie 
upon  his  Hands.  .  .  .  Living  becomes  perfectly  fulsome, 
and  we  grow  impatient  to  receive  our  Discharge. 

And  this  is  not  all  neither.  For  I  must  be  so  free  with 
my  Friends  (and  I  hope  no  Offence)  as  to  discover  the 
secret  and  serious  Persuasion  of  my  Soul  to  them,  with 
regard  to  the  State  of  the  Dead  :  ...  At  present  we  are  all 
close  Prisoners,  immured  with  Flesh  and  Bones,  and  ty'd 
to  the  Toil  and  Tendence  of  a  miserable  but  indispensable 
Servitude  ;  the  Soul  being  of  a  Divine  or  Celestial  Nature 
. . .  plunged  into  a  Tenement  of  Dirt,  a  Situation  and  Resi- 
dence disagreeable  enough  to  a  Being  of  an  Immortal  and 
Heavenly  kind.  ...  I  have  held  out  the  Race,  and  I  don't 
desire  to  be  brought  agen  to  the  Starting-Post ;  and  if 
Heaven  should  graciously  make  me  this  overture,  If  you 
have  a  Mind  to't,  you  shall  be  remanded  to  a  State  of  Infancy 
and  go  to  Nurse  again,  I  should  humbly  and  earnestly 
pray  to  be  excused.  . . .  My  Foot  is  already  in  the  Stirrup  ; 
and  I  leave  this  World,  not  as  a  Man  would  leave  his 
Mansion-House,  but  his  Inn.  How  long  art  thou  coming, 
Auspicious  Hour  !  When  Fm  to  be  releas'd  out  of  these 
Territories  of  Dirt  and  Distraction,  and  incorporated  into 
the  sacred  Society  of  the  great  Souls  above.  . .  .  Perhaps  I 
may  be  too  confident  and  overweaned  in  the  Point  of  the 
Soul's  Immortality ;  if  so,  'tis  at  least  a  very  obliging 
Error,  and  I  am  so  heartily  in  love  with  it,  that  I  would 
not  be  disabus'd,  methinks,  for  the  World.  > 

Ibid. 


297 


TRANSPORT  AND  ARDOUR 

Let  it  be  remember'd  only  . . .  how  often  our  own  Legions 
have  thrown  themselves  with  an  incredible  Transport  and 
Ardour  upon  such  hot  and  desperate  Services,  that  they 
could  not  suppose  a  single  Man  of  them  should  come  off 
again  alive :  Not  to  look  up  so  high  as  our  Heros  of  the 
first  Order ;  Lucius  Brutus  that  dropt  in  the  Prosecution 
of  his  Country's  Deliverance  ;  the  Decii  that  gallop'd  full 
speed  to  a  Death  that  they  might  have  avoided ;  Marcus 
AttiliuS)  that  rather  than  he  would  not  be  true  to  Articles, 
re-committed  himself  to  the  Malice  and  Indignation  of 
the  Enemy ;  the  two  Scipios,  that  planted  themselves  as  a 
Breast- Work,  against  the  Impressions  of  the  whole  Car- 
thaginian Army,  either  to  make  an  effectual  Stand,  or  be 
cut  in  Pieces,  in  the  Cause  of  the  Commonwealth.  .  .  . 
Marcus  Marcellus,  the  noble  circumstances  of  whose 
Death  had  such  an  Effect  upon  the  savage  Carthaginians 
themselves  that  they  took  Care  he  should  be  handsomely 
interr'd. 

Ibid. 


AN  EARNEST  PURSUIT 


He  that  dies  in  an  earnest  Pursuit,  is  like  one  that  is 
wounded  in  hot  Bloud ;  who,  for  the  time,  scarce  feeles 
the  Hurt ;  And  therefore,  a  Minde  fixt,  and  bent  upon 
somewhat  that  is  good,  doth  avert  the  Dolors  of  Death  ; 
But,  above  all,  beleeve  it,  the  sweetest  Canticle,  is  Nunc 
dimittis ;  when  a  Man  hath  obtained  worthy  Ends,  and 
Expectations.  Death  hath  this  also  ;  That  it  openeth  the 

298 


Gate  to  good  Fame,  and  extinguished!  Envye — Extinctus 
amdbitur  idem. 

FRANCIS  BACON,  Essayes  :  Of  Death  (1625) 


DYING  IN  AN  INN 

He  [Archbishop  Leighton]  used  often  to  say,  that  if  he 
were  to  choose  a  Place  to  die  in,  it  should  be  an  Inn ;  it 
look'd  like  a  Pilgrim's  going  Home.  .  .  .  He  added,  that 
the  officious  Tenderness,  and  care  of  Friends,  was  an 
Entanglement  to  a  dying  man,  and  that  the  unconcern'd 
Attendance  of  those  that  could  be  procur'd  in  such  a  place, 
would  give  less  disturbance  :  and  he  obtain'd  what  he 
desir'd  ;  for  he  died  at  the  Bell  Inn,  in  Warwick  Lane. 

GILBERT   BURNET 

History  of  his  own  Time  (Pub.  1723-34) 


A  MERRY  SYMPOSIAQUE 

He   was   a   very   handsome    man,   a   gracefull   speaker, 

facetious,  and  well-beloved.  I  thinke  he  dyed  of  a  merry 

symposiaque.  JOHN  AUBREY 

Brief  Lives  :  Richard  Martin  (c.  1680) 


DEATHBED  OF  A  HEROINE 

You  may  be  glad  to  know  the  particulars  of  her  happy 
exit.  .  .  . 

I  approached  the  bed.  ..."  Oh  !  Mr  Bedford,"  said 
299 


she,  in  broken  periods  ..."  A  few — a  very  few  moments 
— will  end  this  strife — And  I  shall  be  happy  !  Comfort 
here,  Sir  " — turning  her  head  to  the  Colonel — Comfort 
my  cousin — See  ! — the  blameable  kindness — He  would 
not  wish  me  to  be  happy — so  soon  \  " 

.  .  Then,  resuming,  ...  u  I  am  all  blessed  hope — Hope 
itself." 

She  looked  what  she  said,  a  sweet  smile  beaming  over 
her  countenance. 

After  a  short  silence,  "  Once  more,  my  dear  cousin," 
said  she  ..."  commend  me  most  dutifully  to  my  Father 
and  Mother  " — There  she  stopt.  And  then  proceeding — 
"  To  my  Sister,  To  my  Brother,  To  my  Uncles — And  tell 
them,  I  bless  them  with  my  parting  breath — for  all  their 
goodness  to  me — Even  for  their  displeasure,  I  bless  them 
— Most  happy  has  been  to  me  my  punishment  here  ! — 
Happy  indeed  !  " 

.  .  .  Then,  "  O  death !  "  said  she,  "  where  is  thy  sting!  " 
(The  words  I  remember  to  have  heard  in  the  Burial- 
service  read  over  my  Uncle  and  poor  Belton.)  And  after 
a  pause,  "  It  is  good  for  me  that  I  was  afflicted  !  " — Words 
of  Scripture,  I  suppose. 

Then,  turning  towards  us,  who  were  lost  in  speechless 
sorrow — "  O  dear,  dear  gentlemen,"  said  she,  "  you  know 
not  what  foretastes,  what  assurances"  And  there  she  again 
stopt,  and  looked  up,  as  if  in  a  thankful  rapture,  sweetly 
smiling. 

Then  turning  her  head  towards  me — "  Do  you,  Sir, 
tell  your  friend,  that  I  forgive  him  !  And  I  pray  to  God  to 
forgive  him  !  "  Again  pausing,  and  lifting  up  her  eyes,  as 
if  praying  that  He  would — "  Let  him  know  how  happily 
I  die. — And  that  such  as  my  own,  I  wish  to  be  his  last 
hour. . . . 

300 


My  sight  fails  me  !  Your  voices  only  " — (for  we  both 
applauded  her  Christian,  her  divine  frame,  tho'  in  accents 
as  broken  as  her  own)  ..."  Is  not  this  Mr  Morden's 
hand  ?  "  pressing  one  of  his  ..."  Which  is  Mr  Bed- 
ford's ?"...!  gave  her  mine.  "  God  Almighty  bless  you 
both/'  said  she,  "  and  make  you  both — in  your  last  hour 
— for  you  must  come  to  this — happy  as  I  am."  . . . 

She  paused  again,  her  breath  growing  shorter ;  and 
after  a  few  minutes  ..."  And  tell  my  dear  Miss  Howe — 
and  vouchsafe  to  see,  and  to  tell  my  worthy  Mrs  Norton 
— She  will  be  one  day,  I  fear  not,  tho'  now  lowly  in  her 
fortunes,  a  Saint  in  Heaven — Tell  them  both,  that  I 
remember  them  with  thankful  blessings  in  my  last 
moments  !  "  .  .  . 

Her  sweet  voice  and  broken  periods  methinks  fill  my 
ears,  and  never  will  be  out  of  my  memory. 

After  a  short  silence  ..."  And  you,  Mr  Bedford,  press- 
ing my  hand,  may  God  preserve  you,  and  make  you 
sensible  of  all  your  errors — You  see,  in  me,  how  All  ends 

— May  you  be "  And  down  sunk  her  head  upon  her 

pillow,  she  fainting  away.  .  .  . 

We  thought  she  was  then  gone  ;  and  each  gave  way  to 
a  violent  burst  of  grief. 

But  soon  showing  signs  of  returning  life,  our  attention 
was  again  engaged ;  and  I  besought  her,  when  a  little 
recovered,  to  complete  in  my  favour  her  half-pronounced 
blessing.  She  waved  her  hand  to  us  both,  and  bowed  her 
head  six  several  times,  as  we  have  since  recollected,  as  if 
distinguishing  every  person  present ;  not  forgetting  the 
nurse  and  the  maid-servant  .  .  .  and  she  spoke  falteringly 
and  inwardly, — "  Bless — bless — bless — you  All — And  now 

— And  now "  (holding  up  her  almost  lifeless  hands  for 

the  last  time)  "  Come — O  come — Blessed  Lord — JESUS  ! " 

301 


And  with  these  words,  the  last  but  half-pronounced, 
expired  :  Such  a  smile,  such  a  charming  serenity  over- 
spreading her  sweet  face  at  the  instant  as  seemed  to 
manifest  her  eternal  happiness  already  begun. 

O  Lovelace  ! — But  I  can  write  no  more  ! 

SAMUEL   RICHARDSON 

Clarissa.  (Letter  from  Mr  Bedford  to  Robert 
Lovelace  Esq.)  (1749) 


PROOFS 

He  [Bayle]  died  as  he  had  lived,  in  the  same  uninterrupted 
habits  of  composition;  for  with  his  dying  hand,  and  nearly 
speechless,  he  sent  a  fresh  proof  to  the  printer. 

ISAAC   DISRAELI 

Curiosities  of  Literature  (1791-1823) 


RISING  TO  THE  OCCASION 

He  [Sir  Richard  Grenville]  was  borne  into  the  ship  called 
the  Saint  Paule,  wherin  was  the  Admirall  of  the  fleet, 
Don  Alonso  de  Barsan.  There  his  woundes  were  drest  by 
the  Spanish  surgeons ;  .  .  .  the  Captaines  and  Gentlemen 
went  to  visite  him  . .  .  wondering 'at  his  courage  and  stout 
heart,  for  that  he  shewed  not  any  signe  of  faintness, 
nor  changing  of  colour  :  but  feeling  the  hower  of  death  to 
approach,  hee  spake  these  wordes  in  Spanish,  and  said, 
Here  die  I,  Richard  Greenfield,  with  a  joyfull  and  quiet 
mind,  for  I  have  ended  my  life  as  a  true  soldier  ought  to 

302 


do,  that  hath  fought  for  his  countrey,  Queene,  religion, 
and  honour  :  whereby  my  soule  most  joyfull  departheth 
out  of  this  bodie,  and  shall  leave  alwaies  behind  it  an 
everlasting  fame  of  a  valiant  and  true  soldier,  that  hath 
done  his  dutie,  as  he  was  bound  to  doe. 

When  hee  had  finished  these,  or  such  other  like  wordes, 
he  gave  up  the  ghost,  with  great  and  stout  courage ;  and 
no  man  could  perceive  any  true  signe  of  heavinesse  in  him. 

J.   H.   VAN   LINSCHOTEN 

Discourse  of  Voyages  to  East  and  West  Indies 
Trans,  from  Dutch  (1598) 


THE  ENEMY  RUN 

When  no  longer  able  to  stand,  his  [Wolfe's]  only  concern 
was  lest  the  men  should  be  disheartened  by  his  fall 
"  Support  me,"  he  whispered  to  an  officer  near  him  ; 
"  let  not  my  brave  soldiers  see  me  drop.  The  day  is 
ours — keep  it."  .  .  . 

The  cry  was  heard,  "  They  run — they  run  !  "  Like 
one  suddenly  aroused  from  heavy  sleep,  Wolfe  demanded, 
with  great  earnestness,  "  Who  run  ?  "  "  The  enemy, 
Sir  ...  they  give  way  everywhere."  Thereupon  the 
expiring  hero  . . .  rejoined,  "  Go,  one  of  you  ...  to  Colonel 
Burton  :  tell  him  to  march  Webb's  regiment  with  all 
speed  down  to  Charles  river,  and  cut  off  the  retreat."  .  .  . 
He  then  turned  upon  his  side,  and  his  last  words  were, 
"  Now  God  be  praised ;  I  die  in  peace  !  " 

CAPTAIN  KNOX,  Journal  of  Campaigns  (1769) 

[But  the  surgeon  present  reported  his  dying  words  to  be  cc  Lay 
me  down,  I  am  suffocating."  One  can  take  one's  choice.] 

303 


TANT  MIEUX 

"  Is  the  wound  a  mortal  one  ?  "  asked  Montcalm. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Arnoux.  .  .  . 

"  I   am   content/'   replied   Montcalm ;   "  how  much 
longer  have  I  to  live  ? 

"  Not  twenty-four  hours." 

"  So  much  the  better,"  returned  the  dying  man.  "  I 
shall  not  live  to  see  the  English  masters  of  Quebec." 

ABB£  CASGRAIN,  Wolfe  and  Montcalm  (1905) 


A  BUTT  OF  MALMESEY 

IST  MURDERER  :  .  .  .  and  then  throwe  him  into  the  Mal- 

mesey-Butte  in  the  next  roome. 

2ND  MURD.  :  O  excellent  device ;  and  make  a  sop  of  him. 

IST  MURD.  :  Soft,  he  wakes.  .  .  . 

CLARENCE  :  Where  art  thou  Keeper  ?  Give  me  a  cup  of 

wine. 

2ND  MURD.  :  You  shall  have  Wine  enough  my  Lord  anon. 

WILLIAM    SHAKESPEARE 

Richard  III  (1597.  Edition  1623  folio) 


ANOTHER  VERSION 

Attainted  was  hee  by  parliament  and  judged  to  the  death, 
and  thereupon  hastely  drouned  in  a  Butt  of  Malmesey. 
SIR  THOMAS  MORE,  History  of  Richard  HI  (1513) 
304 


LAMPREYS 

When  therefore  the  King  [Henry  I]  returned  from  hunt- 
ing, at  St  Denis  in  the  forest  of  Lyons,  he  ate  the  flesh  of 
lampreys,  which  always  disagreed  with  him,  and  he  al- 
ways loved  them.  But  when  his  doctor  forbade  this  food, 
the  king  did  not  acquiesce  in  this  counsel  of  health. 

HENRY   OF   HUNTINGDON 

Historia  Anglorum  (1154)  (Trans.) 


Ranulphe  says,  he  [Henry  I]  tooke  a  surfet  by  etynge 
of  a  lamprey,  and  therof  dyed. 

ROBERT  FABYAN,  Concordance  of  Histories  (1516) 

[This  seems  an  inferior  version ;  one  would  prefer  to  believe  that 
poor  Henry  had  more  than  one  of  his  favourite  fish  before  he  died.] 


PEACHES  AND  NEW  CIDER 

He  King  John  passed  the  next  night  at  a  convent 
called  Swineshead,  where  ...  he  surfeited  himself  with 
peaches  and  drinking  new  cider. ...  He  rode  to  Newark  ; 
there  his  sickness  increased,  and  he  confessed  himself  and 
received  the  sacrament  from  the  abbot  of  Croxton. 

ROGER  OF  WENDOVER,  Flores  Historiarum  (1235) 


TAKING  ONE'S  TIME 

Petronius  ...  did  not  rashly  kill  himselfe,  but  cutting  his 
vaines,  and  binding  them  up,  as  pleased  him,  opened  them 

305 


againe,  and  talked  with  his  friends,  though  not  of  any  seri- 
ous matter,  .  .  .  nothing  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  or 
opinions  of  wise  men  ;  but  of  light  verses,  and  easie  songs. 
On  some  of  his  slaves  he  bestowed  gifts,  and  on  some 
stripes.  He  went  sometimes  abroade,  and  gave  himselfe  to 
sleepe,  that  although  his  death  was  constrained,  yet  it 
should  be  like  a  casuall  death. 

TACITUS 

Annales  (c.  100) 
Trans.  Richard  Grenewey  (1598) 


MY  HAPPY  TOMB 

When  timely  death  my  life  and  fortune  ends, 
Let  not  my  hearse  be  vext  with  mourning  friends, 
But  let  all  lovers  rich  in  triumph  come, 
And  with  sweet  pastimes  grace  my  happie  tombe. 
And,  Lesbia,  close  up  thou  my  little  light, 
And  crowne  with  love  my  ever-during  night. 

THOMAS   CAMPION 

Book  of  Ay  res  ( 160 1 ) 


A  GOOD  HANGING 

The  parliament  intended  to  have  hanged  him ;  and  he 
expected  no  lesse,  but  resolved  to  be  hangd  with  the  Bible 
under  one  arme  and  Magna  Charta  under  the  other. 

JOHN  AUBREY 

Brief  Lives  :  David  Jenkins  (c.  1680) 
306 


RISING  FROM  TABLE 

I  feele  no  more  perturbation  within  mee  to  departe  this 
worlde,  than  I  have  done  in  my  best  health  to  aryse  from 
table,  when  I  have  well  dyned,  and  thence  to  retire  to  a 
pleasant  walke.  I  have  had  my  parte  in  this  worlde,  and 
now  I  must  give  place  to  fresh  gamesters.  Farewell. 

SIR  ANTHONY  BEND 

His  Will  (1618) 
(Pub.  Thomas  Hearne,  Diary,  1707) 


RESURRECTION 

The  Phoenix  faire  which  rich  Arabia  breedes, 

When  wasting  time  expires  hir  tragedy 

No  more  on  Phoebus  radiant  raise  she  feedes, 

But  heapeth  up  great  store  of  spicery 

And  on  a  loftie  towring  Cedar  tree. 

With  heavenly  substance,  she  hir  selfe  consumes. 

From  whence  she  yoong  againe  appeeres  to  bee. 

Out  of  the  Cinders  of  hir  peerelesse  plumes. 

WILLIAM  SMITH 

Chloris  (1596) 


307 


A  HAPPY  LOT 


THE  MOST  TEMPERATE  PLANET 

I  am  sure,  says  the  Countess,  we  have  one  great  convenience 
in  the  situation  of  our  World  ;  it  is  not  so  hot  as  Mercury 
or  Venus,  or  so  cold  as  Jupiter  or  Saturn ;  and  our  Country 
is  so  justly  plac'd,  that  we  have  no  excess  either  of  Heat  or 
Cold.  I  have  heard  of  a  Philosopher,  who  gave  thanks  to 
Nature  that  he  was  born  a  Man,  and  not  a  Beast,  a  Greek, 
and  not  a  Barbarian ;  and  for  my  part,  I  render  thanks  that 
I  am  seated  in  the  most  temperate  Planet  of  the  Universe, 
and  in  one  of  the  most  temperate  Regions  of  that  Planet. 
You  have  more  reason,  said  I,  to  give  thanks  that  you  are 
Young,  and  not  Old  ;  that  you  are  Young  and  Handsome, 
and  not  Young  and  Ugly;  that  you  are  Young,  Handsome, 
and  an  English  Woman,  and  not  Young,  Handsome,  and  a 
Spaniard,  or  an  Italian ;  these  are  other  guess  Subjects  for 
your  thanks,  than  the  Situation  of  your  Vortex,  or  the 
Temperature  of  your  Countrey.  Pray  Sir,  says  she,  let  me 
give  thanks  for  all  things,  to  the  very  Vortex  in  which  I  am 
planted  :  Our  proportion  of  Happiness  is  so  very  small, 
that  we  should  lose  none,  but  improve  continually  what 
we  have,  and  be  grateful  for  every  thing,  tho'  never  so 
common  or  inconsiderable.  If  nothing  but  exquisite  pleas- 
ure will  serve  us,  we  must  wait  a  long  time,  and  be  sure 
to  pay  too  dear  for  it  at  last.  B.  DE  FONTENELLE 

A  Plurality  of  Worlds  (1686).  Trans.  John  Glanvill  (1688) 

308 


EVERY  ADVANTAGE 

When  I  contemplate  the  common  lot  of  mortality,  I  must 
acknowledge  that  I  have  drawn  a  high  prize  in  the  lottery 
of  life.  The  far  greater  part  of  the  globe  is  over-spread  with 
barbarism  or  slavery ;  in  the  civilised  world  the  most  num- 
erous class  is  condemned  to  ignorance  and  poverty,  and 
the  double  fortune  of  my  birth  in  a  free  and  enlightened 
country,  in  an  honourable  and  wealthy  family,  is  the  lucky 
chance  of  an  unit  against  millions.  The  general  probability 
is  about  three  to  one — that  a  new-born  infant  will  not 
live  to  compleat  his  fiftieth  year.  I  have  now  passed  that 
age. . .  . 

I.  The  first  indispensable  requisite  of  happiness  is  a 
clear  conscience,  unsullied  by  the  reproach  or  remem- 
brance of  an  unworthy  action. 

Hie  murus  aheneus  esto 
Nil  conscire  sibi,  nulla  palescere  culpa. 

I  am  endowed  with  a  cheerful  temper,  a  moderate  sen- 
sibility, and  a  natural  disposition  to  repose  rather  than  to 
action  :  some  mischievous  appetites  and  habits  have  per- 
haps been  corrected  by  philosophy  or  time.  The  love  of 
study,  a  passion  which  derives  fresh  vigour  from  enjoy- 
ment, supplies  each  day,  each  hour,  with  a  perpetual 
source  of  independent  and  rational  pleasure,  and  I  am  not 
sensible  of  any  decay  of  the  mental  faculties.  The  original 
soil  has  been  highly  improved  by  labour  and  manure  ;  but 
it  may  be  questioned  whether  some  flowers  of  fancy,  some 
grateful  errors,  have  not  been  eradicated  with  the  weeds 
of  prejudice. 

2.    Since  I  have  escaped  from  the  long  perils  of  my 
childhood,  the  serious  advice  of  a  physician  has  seldom 

309 


been  requisite.  "  The  madness  of  superfluous  health  " 
I  have  never  known  ;  but  my  tender  constitution  has  been 
fortified  by  time.  .  .  . 

3.  ...  The  oeconomy  of  my  house  is  settled  without 
avarice  or  profusion  ;  at  stated  periods  all  my  bills  are 
regularly  paid,  and  in  the  course  of  my  life  I  have  never 
been  reduced  to  appear,  either  as  plaintiff  or  defendant, 
in  a  court  of  Justice. 

Should  I  add  that,  since  the  failure  of  my  first  wishes,  I 
have  never  entertained  any  serious  thoughts  of  a  matri- 
monial connection  ? 

EDWARD  GIBBON,  Autobiography  (1789) 


LITERARY  BREAKFASTS 

It  is  not  possible  for  anything  on  earth  to  be  more  agree- 
able to  my  taste  than  my  present  manner  of  living.  I  am 
so  much  at  my  ease  ;  have  a  great  many  hours  at  my  own 
disposal :  read  my  own  books,  and  see  my  own  friends  ; 
and,  whenever  I  please,  may  join  the  most  polished  and 
delightful  society  in  the  world  !  Our  breakfasts  are  little 
literary  societies. 

HANNAH  MORE,  Letter  to  her  sister  (1776) 


Two  GARDENERS  EXCHANGE  COMPLIMENTS 

O  the  sweet  evenings  and  mornings,  and  all  the  day 

besides  which  are  yours  ! 

....  while  Cowley's  made 
The  happy  tenant  of  the  shade  ! 
310 


And  the  sun  in  his  garden  gives  him  all  he  desires,  and  all 
that  he  would  enjoy ;  the  purity  of  visible  objects  and  of 
true  Nature,  before  she  was  vitiated  by  imposture  or 
luxury ! 

Books,  wise  discourse,  gardens  and  fields, 
And  all  the  joys  that  umnixt  Nature  yields. 

You  gather  the  first  roses  of  the  spring,  and  apples  of 
autumn ;  and  as  the  philosopher  in  Seneca  desir'd  only 
bread  and  herbs  to  dispute  felicity  with  Jupiter,  you  vie 
happiness  in  a  thousand  easy  and  sweet  diversions  ;  not 
forgetting  the  innocent  toils  which  you  cultivate,  the 
leisure  and  the  liberty,  the  books,  the  meditations,  and 
above  all,  the  learned  and  choice  friendships  that  you 
enjoy.  Who  would  not,  like  you,  cacher  sa  vie  ?  .  .  .  I 
assure  you,  Sir,  it  is  what  in  the  world  I  most  inwardly 
breathe  after  and  pursue,  not  to  say  that  I  envy  your 
felicity,  deliver'd  from  the  gilded  impertinences  of  life,  to 
enjoy  the  moments  of  a  solid  and  pure  contentment ; 
since  those  who  know  how  usefully  you  employ  this 
glorious  recess,  must  needs  be  forced  either  to  imitate,  or, 
as  I  do,  to  celebrate  your  example. 

JOHN   EVELYN 

Kalendarium   H or  tense  :   Dedication  to  A.   Cowley 

(1664.  Edition  1776) 


I  know  no  body  that  possesses  more  private  happines 
than  you  do  in  your  Garden,  and  yet  no  man  who  makes 
his  happines  more  publique  by  a  free  communication 
of  the  art  and  knowledg  of  it  to  others. 

ABRAHAM   COWLEY 

The  Garden  :  Dedication  (1666) 
311 


WORKING  AND  FEASTING 

Thus,  then,  I  live  ;  something  read  or  written  every  day  ; 
after  that,  not  to  be  lacking  in  courtesy  to  my  friends,  I 
feast  with  them. 

CICERO 
Letter  to  Paetus  (46  B.C.) 


THE  ANGLER 

No  life,  my  honest  Scholer,  no  life  so  happie  and  so  pleas- 
ant, as  the  life  of  a  well-governed  Angler ;  for  when  the 
Lawyer  is  swallowed  up  with  businesse,  and  the  States- 
man is  preventing  or  contriving  plots,  we  sit  on  Cowslip 
banks,  hear  the  Birds  sing,  and  possesse  our  selves  in  as 
much  quietnesse  as  these  silver  streames,  which  we  now 
see  glide  by  us. 

IZAAK  WALTON 
The  Compleat  Angler  (1653) 


ENJOYING  THINGS 

"  Life,"  said  a  gaunt  widow,  with  a  reputation  for  being 
clever, — "  life  is  a  perpetual  toothache." 

In  this  vein  the  conversation  went  on :  the  familiar 
topics  were  discussed  of  labour  troubles,  epidemics, 
cancer,  tuberculosis,  and  taxation. 

Next  me  there  sat  a  little  old  lady  who  was  placidly 
drinking  her  tea,  and  taking  no  part  in  the  melancholy 

312 


chorus.  "  Well,  I  must  say/'  she  remarked,  turning  to  me 
and  speaking  in  an  undertone,  "  I  must  say  I  enjoy  life." 

"  So  do  I,"  I  whispered. 

"  When  I  enjoy  things,"  she  went  on,  "  I  know  it. 
Eating,  for  instance,  the  sunshine,  my  hot-water  bottle  at 
night.  Other  people  are  always  thinking  of  unpleasant 
things.  It  makes  a  difference,"  she  added,  as  she  got  up  to 
go  with  the  others. 

"  All  the  difference  in  the  world,"  I  answered. 

LOGAN   PEARSALL   SMITH 

More  Trivia  (1922) 


HOT  BATHS 


ARCHIMEDES  DOES  GEOMETRY  IN  THEM 

Often  times  his  servants  got  him  agaunst  his  will  to  the 
bathes,  to  washe  and  annoynt  him :  and  yet  being  there  he 
would  ever  be  drawing  out  of  the  Geometricall  figures, 
even  in  the  very  imbers  of  the  chimney.  And  while  they 
were  annointing  of  him  with  oyles  and  swete  savors,  with 
his  fingers  he  did  draw  lines  upon  his  naked  body  :  so 
farre  was  he  taken  from  himself,  and  brought  into  an 
extasy  or  trauns,  with  the  delite  he  had  in  the  study  of 
Geometry,  and  truely  ravished  with  the  love  of  the  Muses. 

PLUTARCH,  Lives  (c.  100) 

Trans.  Sir  Thos.  North  (1579) 

313 


A  BISHOP  COUNTERACTS  REPLETION 

Both  our  hosts  had  baths  in  their  houses,  but  in  neither 
did  they  happen  to  be  available  ;  so  I  set  my  own  servants 
to  work. ...  I  made  them  dig  a  pit ...  either  near  a  spring 
or  by  the  river ;  into  this  a  heap  of  red-hot  stones  was 
thrown,  and  the  glowing  cavity  then  covered  over  with  an 
arched  roof  of  wattled  hazel. .  .  .  Water  was  thrown  on  the 
hot  stones  ...  In  these  vapour  baths  we  passed  whole 
hours,  with  lively  talk  and  repartee,  all  the  time  the  cloud 
of  hissing  steam  enveloping  us  induced  the  healthiest 
perspiration.  When  we  had  perspired  enough,  we  bathed 
in  hot  water ;  the  treatment  removed  the  feeling  of 
repletion,  but  left  us  languid ;  we  therefore  finished  off 
with  a  bracing  douche  from  the  fountain,  well,  or  river. 

SIDONIUS   APOLLINARIS 

Letter  to  Donidius  (461-7).  Trans.  T.  Hodgkin  (1892) 


BATHING  DE  LUXE 

Christ.  JErerus,  in  a  consultation  of  his,  hold  once  or  twice  a 
week  sufficient  to  bathe,  the  water  to  be  warme,  not  hot, 
for  feare  of  sweating.  Felix  Plater  ...  for  a  Melancholy 
Lawyer,  will  have  lotions  of  the  head  still  joyned  to  these 
bathes,  with  a  lee  wherein  capitall  herbs  have  been 
boyled.  Laurentius  speaks  of  bathes  of  milke,  which  I 
find  approved  by  many  others.  And  still,  after  bath,  the 
body  to  be  annointed  with  oyle  of  bitter  Almonds,  of 
violets,  new  or  fresh  butter,  Capons  grease,  especially 
the  backe  bone. . . .  The  Romans  had  their  publike  Bathes, 
very  sumptuous  and  stupend,  as  those  of  Antoninus  and 


Dioclesian.  .  .  .  Some  bathed  seven  times  a  day,  as  Corn- 
modus  the  Emperor  is  reported  to  have  done,  usually 
twice  a-day,  and  they  were  after  annoynted  with  most 
costly  oyntments :  rich  women  bathed  themselves  in 
milke,  some  in  the  milke  of  500  she-asses  at  once.  .  . . 

Of  cold  Bathes  I  finde  little  or  no  mention  in  any 

Physitian  ;  some  speake  against  them.       ROBERT  BURTON 

Anatomy  of  Melancholy  (1621.  Edition  1632) 


FOR  HEALTH 

At  eight  in  the  morning,  we  go  in  dishabille  to  the  Pump- 
room,  which  is  crowded  like  a  Welsh  fair;  and  there  you  see 
the  highest  quality  and  the  lowest  trade  folks,  jostling  each 
other,  without  ceremony,  hail-fellow  well  met.  The  noise 
of  the  music  playing  in  the  gallery,  the  heat  and  flavour  of 
such  a  crowd,  and  the  hum  and  buz  of  their  conversation, 
gave  me  the  head-ach  and  vertigo  the  first  day ;  but,  after- 
wards, all  these  things  became  familiar,  and  even  agreeable. 
Right  under  the  Pump-room  windows  is  the  King's  Bath  ; 
a  huge  cistern,  where  you  see  the  patients  up  to  their  necks 
in  hot  water.  The  ladies  wear  jackets  and  petticoats  of 
brown  linen,  with  chip  hats,  in  which  they  fix  their  hand- 
kerchiefs to  wipe  the  sweat  from  their  faces  ;  but  truly, 
Whether  it  is  owing  to  the  steam  that  surrounds  them,  or 
the  heat  of  the  water,  or  the  nature  of  the  dress,  or  to  all 
these  causes  together,  they  look  so  flushed  and  so  frightful, 
that  I  always  turn  my  eyes  another  way.  My  aunt,  who  says 
every  person  of  fashion  should  make  her  appearance  in  the 
bath,  as  well  as  in  the  abbey  church,  contrived  3  cap  with 
cherry-coloured  ribbons  to  suit  her  complexion,  and 

315 


obliged  Win  to  attend  her  yesterday  morning  in  the  water. 
But  really,  her  eyes  were  so  red,  that  they  made  mine 
water  as  I  viewed  her  from  the  Pump-room ;  and  as  for 
poor  Win,  who  wore  a  hat  trimmed  with  blue,  what  betwixt 
her  wan  complexion  and  her  fear,  she  looked  like  the  ghost 
of  some  pale  maiden,  who  had  drowned  herself  for  love. 
When  she  came  out  of  the  bath,  she  took  assafoetida  drops, 
and  was  fluttered  all  day;  so  that  we  could  hardly  keep  her 
from  going  into  hysterics  :  but  her  mistress  says  it  will  do 
her  good ;  and  poor  Win  curtsies,  with  the  tears  in  her  eyes. 

TOBIAS   SMOLLETT 

Humphrey  Clinker  (1771) 


HOUSES 


A  ROMAN  MERCHANT'S  HOUSE 

Why,  you  should  not  come  into  anie  mannes  house  of 
account,  but  hee  hadde  fish-pondes  and  little  orchardes  on 
the  toppe  of  his  leads.  If  by  raine  or  any  other  meanes 
those  ponds  were  so  full  that  they  need  to  be  slust  or  let 
out,  even  of  their  superfluities  they  made  melodious  use, 
for  they  had  greate  winde  instruments  in  stead  of  leaden 
spoutes,  that  went  duly  on  consort,  onely  with  this  waters 
rumbling  discent.  I  sawe  a  summer  banketting  house  be- 
longing to  a  merchaunt,  that  was  the  mervaile  of  the 
world,  and  could  not  be  macht  except  God  should  make 


another  paradise.  It  was  builte  round  of  greene  marble, 
like  a  Theater  with-out ;  within  there  was  a  heaven  and 
earth  comprehended  both  under  one  roofe,  the  heaven 
was  a  cleere  overhanging  vault  of  christall,  wherein  the 
Sunne  and  Moone,  and  each  visible  Starre  had  his  true 
similitude,  shine,  scituation,  and  motion,  and  by  what 
enwrapped  arte  I  cannot  conceive,  these  spheares  in  their 
proper  orbes  observed  their  circular  wheelinges  and  turn- 
ings, making  a  certaine  kinde  of  soft  angelical  murmering 
musicke  in  their  often  windings  and  going  about,  which 
musick  the  philosophers  say  in  the  true  heaven  by  reason 
of  the  grosenes  of  our  senses  we  are  not  capable  of.  For  the 
earth,  it  was  counterfeited  in  that  liknes  that  Adam  lorded 
it  out  before  his  fall.  .  .  .  The  flore  was  painted  with  the 
beautifullest  flouers  that  ever  mans  eie  admired  which  so 
linealy  were  delineated,  that  he  that  viewd  them  a  farre 
off  and  had  not  directly  stood  pouringly  over  them,  would 
have  sworne  they  had  lived  in  deede.  The  wals  round 
about  were  hedgde  with  Olives  and  palme  trees,  and  all 
other  odoriferous  fruit-bearing  plants,  which  at  anie  solemn 
entertainment  dropt  mirrhe  and  frankensence.  Other 
trees  that  bare  no  fruit  were  set  in  just  order  one  against 
another,  and  divided  the  roome  into  a  number  of  shadie 
lanes,  leaving  but  one  over-spreading  pine  tree  arbor, 
where  wee  sate  and  banketted.  On  the  wel  clothed  boughs 
of  this  conspiracie  of  pine  trees  against  the  resembled  Sun 
beames,  were  pearcht  as  many  sortes  of  shrill  breasted 
birdes  as  the  Summer  hath  allowed  for  singing  men  in  her 
silvane  chappels.  Who  though  there  were  bodies  without 
soules,  and  sweete  resembled  substances  without  sense, 
yet  by  the  mathemeticall  experimentes  of  long  silver  pipes 
secretlye  inrinded  in  the  intrailes  of  the  boughs  wheron 
they  sate,  and  undiscerneablie  convaid  under  their  bellies 

317 


into  their  small  throats  sloaping,  they  whistled  and  freely 
carold  theyr  naturall  field  note.  Neyther  went  those  silver 
pipes  straight,  but  by  many  edged  unsundred  writhings, 
and  crankled  wanderinges  aside,  strayed  from  bough  to 
bough  into  an  hundred  throats.  .  .  .  But  so  closely  were 
all  those  organizing  implements  obscured  in  the  corpulent 
trunks  of  the  trees,  that  everie  man  there  present  renounst 
conjectures  of  art,  and  sayd  it  was  done  by  inchantment. 
One  tree  for  his  fruit  bare  nothing  but  inchained  chirp- 
ing birdes,  whose  throates  beeing  conduit  pipt  .  .  .  and 
charged  siring-wise  with  searching  sweet  water, . .  .  made 
a  spirting  sound,  such  as  chirping  is,  in  bubling  upwards 
through  the  rough  crannies  of  their  closed  bills.  Under 
tuition  of  the  shade  of  everie  tree  that  I  have  signified  to 
be  in  this  round  hedge,  on  delightful  levie  cloisters  lay 
a  wylde  tyranous  beast  asleepe  all  prostrate  :  under  some, 
two  together,  as  the  Dogge  nusling  his  nose  under  the 
necke  of  the  Deare,  the  Wolfe  glad  to  let  the  Lambe  lye 
upon  hym  to  keepe  him  warme,  the  Lyon  suffering  the 
Asse  to  cast  hys  legge  over  him.  .  .  .  No  poysonous  beast 
there  reposed  (poyson  was  not  before  our  parent  Adam 
transgressed).  There  were  no  sweete-breathing  Panthers, 
that  would  hyde  their  terrifying  heads  to  betray  :  no  men 
imitating  Hyoenaes,  that  chaunged  their  sexe  to  seeke  after 
bloud.  Wolves  as  now  when  they  are  hungrie  eate  earth, 
so  then  did  they  feed  on  earth  only,  and  abstained  from 
innocent  flesh.  The  Unicorne  did  not  put  his  home  into 
the  streame  to  chase  awaye  venome  before  hee  dronke, 
for  then  there  was  no  suche  thing  extant  in  the  water  or 
on  the  earth.  Serpents  were  as  harmlesse  to  mankinde, 
as  they  are  still  one  to  another  :  the  rose  had  no  cankers, 
the  leves  no  caterpillers,  the  sea  no  Syrens,  the  earth  no 
usurers.  Goats  then  bare  wooll,  as  it  is  recorded  in  Sicily 

318 


they  doo  yet.  The  torride  Zone  was  habitable  :  only  Jayes 
loved  to  steale  gold  and  silver  to  build  their  nests  withall, 
and  none  cared  for  covetous  clientrie,  or  runing  to  the 
Indies.  As  the  Elephant  understands  his  countrey  speach, 
so  everie  beast  understood  what  man  spoke.  The  ant  did 
not  hoord  up  against  winter,  for  there  was  no  winter  but 
a  perpetuall  spring,  as  Ovid  saith.  No  frosts  to  make  the 
greene  almound  tree  counted  rash  and  improvident,  in 
budding  soonest  of  all  other :  or  the  mulberie  tree  a  strange 
polititian,  in  blooming  late  and  ripening  early.  .  .  .  Young 
plants  for  their  sap  had  balme,  for  their  yellow  gumme 
glistering  amber.  The  evening  dewed  not  water  on  flowers, 
but  honnie.  Such  a  golden  age,  such  a  good  age,  such  an 
honest  age  was  set  forth  in  this  banketting  house.  O  Rome,, 
if  thou  hast  in  thee  such  soul  exalting  objects,  what  a  thing 
is  heaven  in  comparison  of  thee  ?  THOMAS  NASHE 

The  Unfortunate  Traveller  (1594) 


A  GAUDY  PALACE 

Like  heavens  two  maine  lights, 
The  roomes  illustrated,  both  daies  and  nights. 
On  every  side  stood  firme  a  wall  of  brasse, 
Even  from  the  threshold  to  the  inmost  passe ; 
Which  bore  a  roofe  up  that  all  Saphire  was  ; 
The  brazen  thresholds  both  sides,  did  enfold 
Silver  Pilasters,  hung  with  gates  of  gold ; 
Whose  Portall  was  of  silver ;  over  which 
A  golden  Cornish  did  the  front  enrich. 
On  each  side,  Dogs,  of  gold  and  silver  fram'd, 
The  houses  Guard  stood  ;  which  the  Deitie  (lam'd)     vuican. 
319 


With  knowing  inwards  had  inspir'd  ;  and  made. 
That  Death  nor  Age>  should  their  estates  invade. 

Along  the  wall,  stood  every  way  a  throne  ; 
From  th'entry  to  the  Lobbie  :  every  one. 
Cast  over  with  a  rich-wrought  cloth  of  state. 
Beneath  which,  the  Phceacian  Princes  sate 
At  wine  and  food  ;  and  feasted  all  the  yeare. 
Youths  forg'd  of  gold,  at  every  table  there, 
Stood  holding  flaming  torches  ;  that,  in  night 
Gave  through  the  house,  each  honourd  Guest,  his 

HOMER 

Odyssey.  Book  VII 
Trans.  George  Chapman  (1614) 


A  FINE  HALL 

A  goodly  hall 

Of  jaspar  stones,  it  was  wonderflye  wrought 
The  windowes  cleare,  depured  all  of  christal 
And  in  the  roufe,  on  hye  over  all 
Of  golde  was  made,  a  right  crafty  vyne, 
In  stede  of  grapes,  the  Rubies  there  did  shyne. 
The  flore  was  paved  with  berall  clarified 
With  pillars  made  of  stones  precious 
Like  a  place  of  pleasure,  so  gayely  glorified 
It  might  be  called,  a  palaice  glorious 
So  muche  delectable,  and  solacious. 
The  hall  was  hanged,  bye  and  circuler 
With  clothe  of  arras,  in  the  richest  maner. 

STEPHEN   HAWES 

The  Passe ty me  of  Pleasure  (1509) 
320 


HOUSE-PRIDE 


I  have  nothing  more  to  send  you  but  a  new  ballad,  which 
my  Lord  Bath  has  made  on  this  place  ;  you  remember  the 
old  burden  of  it,  and  the  last  lines  allude  to  Billy  Bristow's 
having  fallen  in  love  with  it. 

Some  talk  of  Gunnersbury, 

For  Sion  some  declare  ; 
And  some  say  that  with  Chiswick  House 

No  villa  can  compare  ; 
But  all  the  beaux  of  Middlesex, 

Who  know  that  country  well, 
Say  that  Strawberry  Hill,  that  Strawberry 

Doth  bear  away  the  bell. 

Though  Surrey  boasts  its  Oatlands, 

And  Claremont  kept  so  gim  ; 
And  though  they  talk  of  Southcote's, 

It's  but  a  dainty  whim  ; 
For  ask  the  gallant  Bristow, 

Who  does  in  taste  excel, 
If  Strawberry  Hill,  if  Strawberry 

Don't  bear  away  the  bell. 

I  am  a  little  pleased  to  send  you  this,  to  show  you  that 
in  summer  we  are  a  little  pretty.  HORACE  WALPOLE 

Letter  to  George  Montagu  (1755) 
LP  321 


ICE 


YOUNG  MEN  PLAY  ON  IT 

When  the  great  fenn,  or  Moore,  which  watereth  the  walles 
of  the  title  on  the  North  side,  is  frozen,  many  young  men 
play  upon  the  ice ;  some  stryding  as  wide  as  they  may, 
doe  slide  swiftly ;  others  make  themselves  seates  of  ice, 
as  great  as  milstones  ;  one  sits  downe,  many  hand  in  hand 
do  drawe  him,  and  one  slipping  down  on  a  sudden,  all  fall 
together ;  some  tye  bones  to  their  feete  and  under  their 
heeles ;  and  shoving  themselves  by  a  little  picked  staffe, 
do  slide  as  swiftly  as  a  bird  flyeth  in  the  aire,  ar  an  arrow 
out  of  a  crossebow.  Sometime  two  runn  together  with 
poles,  and  hitting  one  the  other,  either  one  or  both  doe  fall, 
not  without  hurt ;  some  break  their  armes,  some  their  legs, 
but  youth  desirous  of  glorie,  in  this  sort  exerciseth  it  selfe 
against  the  time  of  warre.  WILLIAM  FITZSTEPHEN 

Vita  Sancti  Thomae  (c.  1180).  Trans.  John  Stow  (1598) 


SLIDING  AND  SKATING 

Having  scene  the  strange  and  wonderful  dexterity  of  the 
sliders  on  the  new  canal  in  St  James's  Park,  perform'd  be- 
fore their  Matic8  by  divers  gentlemen  and  others  with 

322 


scheets,  after  the  manner  of  the  Hollanders,  with  what 
swiftness  they  passe,  how  suddainely  they  stop  in  full 
carriere  upon  the  ice,  I  went  home  by  water,  but  not 
without  exceeding  difficultie  the  Thames  being  frozen, 
greate  flakes  of  ice  encompassing  our  boate. 

JOHN  EVELYN,  Diary  (Dec.  i,  1662) 


ICICLES 

The  Hautboys  who  playd  to  us  last  night  had  their  breath 

froze  in  their  instruments  till  it  dropt  of  the  ends  of  'em 

in  icicles  by  god  this  is  true.  WILLIAM  CONGREVE 

Letter  to  Edward  Porter  (Jan.  ist,  1700  ?) 


CARNIVAL 

London  enjoyed  a  carnival  of  the  utmost  brilliancy.  .  .  . 
Frozen  roses  fell  in  showers  when  the  Queen  and  her  ladies 
walked  abroad.  Coloured  balloons  hovered  motionless  in 
the  air.  Here  and  there  burnt  vast  bonfires  of  cedar  and 
oak  wood,  lavishly  salted,  so  that  the  flames  were  of  green, 
orange,  and  purple  fire.  But  however  fiercely  they  burnt, 
the  heat  was  not  enough  to  melt  the  ice  which,  though  of 
singular  transparency,  was  yet  of  the  hardness  of  steel. 
So  clear  indeed  was  it  that  there  could  be  seen,  congealed 
at  a  depth  of  several  feet,  here  a  porpoise,  there  a  flounder. 
Shoals  of  eels  lay  motionless  in  a  trance,  but  whether  their 
state  was  one  of  death  or  merely  of  suspended  animation 
which  the  warmth  would  revive  puzzled  the  philosophers. 
Near  London  Bridge,  where  the  river  had  frozen  to  a 

323 


depth  of  some  twenty  fathoms,  a  wrecked  wherry  boat  was 
plainly  visible,  lying  on  the  bed  of  the  river  where  it  had 
sunk  last  autumn,  overladen  with  apples.  The  old  bum- 
boat  woman,  who  was  carrying  her  fruit  to  market  on  the 
Surrey  side,  sat  there  in  her  plaids  and  farthinghales  with 
her  lap  full,  of  apples,  for  all  the  world  as  if  she  were  about 
to  serve  a  customer,  though  a  certain  blueness  about  the 
lips  hinted  the  truth.  'Twas  a  sight  King  James  specially 
liked  to  look  upon,  and  he  would  bring  a  troupe  of  cour- 
tiers to  gaze  with  him.  In  short  nothing  could  exceed  the 
brilliancy  and  gaiety  of  the  scene  by  day.  But  it  was  at  night 
that  the  carnival  was  at  its  merriest.  For  the  frost  con- 
tinued unbroken  ;  the  nights  were  of  perfect  stillness  ;  the 
moon  and  stars  blazed  with  the  hard  fixity  of  diamonds,  and 
to  the  fine  music  of  flute  and  trumpet  the  courtiers  danced. 
VIRGINIA  WOOLF,  Orlando  (1928) 


IGNORANCE 


INNOCENCE 

A  learned  and  a  happy  Ignorance 

Divided  me 
From  all  the  Vanity, 
From  all  the  Sloth,  Care,  Sorrow,  that  advance 

The  Madness  and  the  Misery 
Of  Men.  No  Error,  no  Distraction,  I 
Saw  cloud  the  Earth,  or  over-cast  the  Sky. 
324 


I  knew  not  that  there  was  a  Serpent's  Sting, 

Whose  Poyson  shed 
On  Alen,  did  overspread 
The  World  :  Nor  did  I  dream  of  such  a  thing 
As  Sin,  in  which  Mankind  lay  dead. 
They  all  were  brisk  and  living  Things  to  me. 
Yea,  pure  and  full  of  immortality. 

Unwelcom  Penitence  I  then  thought  not  on  ; 

Vain  costly  Toys, 
Swearing  and  roaring  -boys, 
Shops,  Markets,  Taverns,  Coaches,  were  unknown, 

So  all  things  were  that  drown  my  Joys  : 
No  thorns  choakt-up  my  Path,  nor  hid  the  face 
Of  Bliss  and  Glory,  nor  eclypt  my  place. 

Only  what  Adam  in  his  first  Estate 

Did  I  behold ; 
Hard  silver  and  dry  Gold 
As  yet  lay  underground  :  My  happy  Fate 

Was  more  acquainted  with  the  old 
And  innocent  Delights  which  he  did  see 

In  his  Original  Simplicity. 

THOMAS  TRAHERNE 

Eden  :  Poems  of  Felicity  (?  1656-66) 


PLEASANT  GENTLEMEN 

The  Ancients  were  pleasant  Gentlemen,  to  imagine  that 
the  celestial  Bodies  were  in  their  own  nature  unchange- 
able, because  they  observed  no  change  in  them. 

B.  DE  FONTENELLE 

A  Plurality  of  Worlds  (1686).  Trans.  John  Glanvill  (1688) 

325 


FOOLS  ENJOY  THEIR  PLEASURES 

. .  As  Knowledge  cast  Adam  out  of  Paradise,  so  it  do's  all 
those  who  apply  themselves  to  it,  for  the  more  they 
understand,  they  do  but  more  plainly  perceive,  their  own 
wants  and  Nakedness,  as  he  did,  which  before  in  the  State 
of  Ignorance  were  hidden  from  him,  untill  the  eies  of  his 
understanding  were  opened,  only  to  let  him  see  his  losses, 
and  the  Miseries  which  he  had  betrayed  himself  unto.  For 
the  world  appeares  a  much  finer  thing  to  those  that  under- 
stand it  not  then  to  those  who  do,  and  Fooles  injoy  their 
Pleasures  with  greater  Appetite  and  Gust  then  those  who 
are  more  sensible  of  their  vanity  and  unwholesomnes. 

SAMUEL  BUTLER 

Miscellaneous  Observations  (c.  1660-70) 


NOT  READING  THE  MAGAZINES 

I  have  been  thinking  over  our  late  correspondence,  and 
wish  to  propose  to  you  the  following  articles  for  our 
future  : — 

.  .  .  4thly,  That  you  send  me  no  periodical  works  what- 
soever— no  Edinburgh.,  Quarterly,  Monthly,  nor  any 
Review,  Magazine,  Newspaper,  English  or  foreign,  of  any 
description.  5thly,  That  you  send  me  no  opinions  what- 
soever, either  good,  bad,  or  indifferent,  of  yourself,  or  your 
friends,  or  others,  concerning  my  work,  or  works  of  mine 
past,  present,  or  to  come.  .  .  .  Reviews  and  Magazines  are 
at  the  best  but  ephemeral  and  superficial  reading  :  who 
thinks  of  the  grand  article  of  last  year,  in  any  given  review  ? 
in  the  next  place,  if  they  regard  myself,  they  tend  to 

326 


increase  Egotism ;  if  favourable,  I  do  not  deny  that  the 
praise  elates,  and  if  unfavourable,  that  the  abuse  irritates — 
the  latter  may  conduct  me  to  inflict  a  species  of  Satire, 
which  would  neither  do  good  to  you  nor  to  your  friends  : 
they  may  smile  now,  and  so  may  you,  but  if  I  took  you  all  in 
hand,  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  cut  you  up  like  gourds  . . . 
Therefore  let  me  hear  none  of  your  provocations.  If  any 
thing  occurs  so  very  gross  as  to  require  my  notice,  I  shall 
hear  of  it  from  my  personal  friends.  For  the  rest,  I  merely 
request  to  be  left  in  ignorance.  The  same  applies  to 
opinions,  good,  bad,  or  indifferent,  of  persons  in  conversa- 
tion or  correspondence  :  .  .  .  they  soil  the  current  of  my 
Mind.  I  am  sensitive  enough,  but  not  till  I  am  touched',  and 
here  I  am  beyond  the  touch  of  the  short  arms  of  literary 
England.  ...  All  these  precautions  in  England  would  be 
useless  :  the  libeller  or  the  flatterer  would  there  reach  me 
in  spite  of  all ;  but  in  Italy  we  know  little  of  literary 
England  and  think  less,  except  what  reaches  us  through 
some  garbled  and  brief  extract  in  some  miserable  Gazette. 

LORD  BYRON 
Letter  to  John  Murray  (1821) 


SANCTA  SIMPLICITAS 

Yon  cottager,  who  weaves  at  her  own  door, 
Pillow  and  bobbins  all  her  little  store, 
Content,  though  mean  ;  and  cheerful,  if  not  gay  ; 
Shuffling  her  threads  about  the  live-long  day, 
Just  earns  a  scanty  pittance  ',  and  at  night 
Lies  down  secure,  her  heart  and  pocket  light : 
She,  for  her  humble  sphere  by  nature  fit, 
Has  little  understanding,  and  no  wit, 

327 


Recieves  no  praise ;  but,  though  her  lot  be  such, 
(Toilsome  and  indigent)  she  renders  much ; 
Just  knows,  and  knows  no  more,  her  Bible  true — 
A  truth  the  brilliant  Frenchman  never  knew ; 
And  in  that  charter  reads,  with  sparkling  eyes, 
Her  title  to  a  treasure  in  the  skies. 

O  happy  peasant !  Oh,  unhappy  bard  ! 
His  the  mere  tinsel,  hers  the  rich  reward ; 
He  prais'd,  perhaps,  for  ages  yet  to  come  ; 
She  never  heard  of  half  a  mile  from  home  : 
He,  lost  in  errors,  his  vain  heart  prefers ; 
She,  safe  in  the  simplicity  of  hers. 

Not  many  wise,  rich,  noble,  or  profound 
In  science,  win  one  inch  of  heav'nly  ground. 
And  is  it  not  a  mortifying  thought 
The  poor  should  gain  it,  and  the  rich  should  not  ? 

WILLIAM  COWPER 

Truth  (1782) 


RESULTS  OF  CENSORSHIP 

Another  sort  there  be  who  when  they  hear  that  all  things 
shall  be  order'd,  all  things  regulated  and  setPd  ;  nothing 
writt'n  but  what  passes  through  the  custom-house  of 
certain  Publicans  that  have  the  tunaging  and  poundaging 
of  all  free  spok'n  truth,  will  strait  give  themselvs  up  into 
your  hands,  mak'em  and  cut'em  out  what  religion  ye 
please ;  there  be  delights,  there  be  recreations  and  jolly 
pastimes  that  will  fetch  the  day  about  from  sun  to  sun,  and 
rock  the  tedious  year  as  in  a  delightfull  dream.  What  need 
they  torture  their  heads  with  that  which  others  have  tak'n 

328 


so  strictly,  and  so  unalterably  into  their  own  pourveying. 
These  are  the  fruits  which  a  dull  ease  and  cessation  of 
our  knowledge  will  bring  forth  among  the  people.  How 
goodly,  and  how  to  be  wisht  were  such  an  obedient  unani- 
mity as  this,  what  a  fine  conformity  would  it  starch  us  all 

*nt°  !  JOHN  MILTON 

Areopagitica  (1643) 


IN  BED 


SINGING 

At  night,  when  he  was  abed,  and  the  dores  made  fast,  and 
was  sure  nobody  heard  him,  he  sang  aloud  (not  that  he 
had  a  very  good  voice)  but  for  his  health's  sake  :  he  did 
beleeve  it  did  his  lunges  gcod,  and  conduced  much  to 
prolong  his  life.  JOHN  AUBREY 

Brief  Lives  :  Thomas  Hobbes  (c.  1680) 


MATHEMATICS 

I  have  heard  Mr  Hobbes  say  that  he  was  wont  to  draw 
lines  on  his  thigh  and  on  the  sheetes,  abed,  and  also 
multiply  and  divide. 

329 


READING 

Let  sleep  creep  over  you  while  you  hold  a  book,  and  let 
the  ...  page  support  your  falling  face. 

sx  JEROME,  Letter  to  Eustochium  (384) 


COMFORT 

Rode  easily  to  Welling,  where  we  supped  well,  and  had 
two  beds  in  the  room  and  so  lay  single,  and  still  remember 
it  that  of  all  the  nights  that  ever  I  slept  in  my  life  I  never 
did  pass  a  night  with  more  epicurism  of  sleep ;  there 
being  now  and  then  a  noise  of  people  stirring  that  waked 
me,  and  then  it  was  a  very  rainy  night,  and  then  I  was  a 
little  weary,  that  what  between  waking  and  then  sleeping 
again,  one  after  another,  I  never  had  so  much  content  in 
all  my  life,  and  so  my  wife  says  it  was  with  her. 

SAMUEL  PEPYS,  Diary  (Sept.  23,  1660) 


THINKING  OF  WIT 

Dr  Swift  lies  a-bed  till  eleven  o'clock,  and  thinks  of  wit 
for  the  day.  JOSEPH  SPENCE,  Anecdotes  (c.  1734) 

FLOODS  OF  DOWN 

And  to  your  more  bewitching,  see,  the  proud 
Plumpe  Bed  beare  up,  and  swelling  like  a  cloud, 

Tempting  the  two  too  modest ;  can 

Yee  see  it  brusle  like  a  Swan, 
330 


And  you  be  cold 
Too  meet  it,  when  it  woo's  and  seemes  to  fold 

The  Armes  to  hugge  it  ?  throw,  throw 
Your  selves  into  the  mighty  over-flow 

Of  that  white  Pride,  and  Drowne 
The  night,  with  you,  in  floods  of  Downe. 

ROBERT  HERRICK 

A  Nuptiall  Song,  or  Epithalamie,  on  Sir  Clipseby  Crew 
and  his  Lady.  Hesperides  (1648) 


THE  FLEA  ASLEEP 

My  Bed  was  such,  as  Down  nor  Feather  can 
Make  one  more  soft,  though  Jove  againe  turn  swan  ; 
No  fear-distracted  thoughts  my  slumbers  broke, 
I  heard  no  screech  owl  shreek,  nor  Raven  croak  ; 
Sleep's  foe,  the  Flea,  that  proud  insulting  Elfe, 
Is  now  at  truce,  and  is  asleep  it  selfe. 

SIR  JOHN   MENNIS 

The  Nightinghale 
Musarum  Deliciae  (1655) 


CARDS 

He  played  at  cards  rarely  well,  and  did  use  to  practise  by 
himselfe  a  bed,  and  there  studyed  how  the  best  way  of 
managing  the  cards  could  be. 

JOHN  AUBREY 
Brief  Lives  :  Sir  John  Suckling  (c.  1680) 

331 


BASKETS  OF  FRUIT 

Another  time,  as  he  [Thomas  Traherne]  was  in  bed, 
he  saw  a  basket  come  sailing  in  the  air,  along  by  the 
valence  of  his  bed ;  I  think  he  said  there  was  fruit  in  the 
basket :  it  was  a  Phantom.  JOHN  AUBREY 

Apparitions  (Miscellanies)  (1696) 


LYING  LATE 

O  Thou  that  sleep'st  like  Pigg  in  Straw, 

Thou  Lady  dear,  arise ; 

Open  (to  keep  the  Sun  in  awe) 

Thy  pretty  pinking  eyes  : 

And,  having  stretcht  each  Leg  and  Arme, 

Put  on  your  cleane  white  Smock, 

And  then  I  pray,  to  keep  you  warme, 

A  Petticote  on  Dock. 

Arise,  arise  !  Why  should  you  sleep, 

When  you  have  slept  enough  ? 

Long  since,  French  Boyes  cry'd  Chimney-sweep, 

And  Damsels  Kitching-stuffe. 

The  Shops  were  open'd  long  before, 

And  youngest  Prentice  goes 

To  lay  at's  Mrs.  Chamber-doore. 

His  Masters  shining  Shooes. 

Arise,  arise ;  your  Breakfast  stayes, 
Good  Water-grewell  warme, 
Or  Sugar-sops,  which  Galen  sayes 
With  Mace,  will  doe  no  harme. 

332 


Arise,  arise  ;  when  you  are  up, 

You'l  find  more  to  your  cost, 

For   Mornings-draught   with   Caudle-cup, 

Good  Nutbrown-Ale,  and  Tost. 

SIR   WILLIAM   DAVENANT 

News  from  Plimouth  (1635) 

LYING  LATE 

'Tis  the  voice  of  the  Sluggard ;  I  hear  him  complain, 
"  You  have  wak'd  me  too  soon,  I  must  slumber  again." 
As  the  Door  on  its  Hinges,  so  he  on  his  Bed, 
Turns  his  Sides,  and  his  Shoulders,  and  his  heavy  Head. 

"  A  little  more  Sleep  and  a  little  more  Slumber  "  ; 
Thus  he  wastes  half  his  Days  and  his  Hours  without 

number ; 

And  when  he  gets  up,  he  sits  folding  his  Hands, 
Or  walks  about  sauntering,  or  trifling  he  stands. 

ISAAC  WATTS 

The  Sluggard.  Moral  Songs  (pub.  1743) 

JOHNSON  :  "  I  have,  all  my  life  long,  been  lying  till  noon  ; 
yet  I  tell  all  young  men,  and  tell  them  with  great  sincerity, 
that  nobody  who  does  not  rise  early  will  ever  do  any 

gOOd."  JAMES  BOSWELL 

Tour  to  the  Hebrides  with  Samuel  Johnson  (1785) 

I  purpose  to  rise  at  eight,  because,  though  I  shall  not  yet 
rise  early,  it  will  be  much  earlier  than  I  now  rise,  for  I 
often  lie  till  two.  SAMUEL  JOHNSON 

Prayers  and  Meditations  (1765) 

333 


SLEEPING  OUT 


Thus  talking  hand  in  hand  alone  they  pass'd 
On  to  thir  blissful  Bower ;  it  was  a  place 
Chos'n  by  the  sovran  Planter,  when  he  fram'd 
All  things  to  mans  delightful  use ;  the  roofe 
Of  thickest  covert  was  inwoven  shade 
Laurel  and  Mirtle,  and  what  higher  grew 
Of  firm  and  fragrant  leaf;  on  either  side 
Acanthus,  and  each  odorous  bushie  shrub 
Fenc'd  up  the  verdant  wall ;  each  beauteous  flour, 
Iris  all  hues,  Roses,  and  Gessamin 
Rear'd  high  thir  flourisht  heads  between,  and 

wrought 

Mosaic  ;  underfoot  the  Violet, 
Crocus,  and  Hyacinth  with  rich  inlay 
Broiderd  the  ground,  more  colour'd  then  with 

stone 

Of  costliest  Emblem  :  other  Creature  here 
Beast,  Bird,  Insect,  or  Worm  durst  enter  none ; 
Such  was  thir  awe  of  man.  In  shadier  Bower 
More  sacred  and  sequesterd  though  but  feignd, 
Pan  and  Silvanus  never  slept,  nor  Nymph, 
Nor  Faunus  haunted.  Here  in  close  recess 
With  Flowers,  Garlands,  and  sweet-smelling  Herbs 
Espoused  Eve  deckt  first  her  Nuptial  Bed, 
And  heav'nly  Quires  the  Hymenaean  sung.  .  .  . 
These  lulld  by  Nightinghales  imbraceing  slept, 
And  on  thir  naked  limbs  the  flourie  roof 
Showrd  Roses,  which  the  Morn  repair'd.  Sleep  on, 
Blest  Pair.  JOHN  MILTON 

Paradise  Lost,  Book  IV  (1667) 
334 


Theis  are  the  spels  which  to  kind  sleep  invite,  .  .  . 

Who  would  not  choos  to  bee  awake, 
While  hee's  encompasst  round  with  such  delight, 
To  th'ear,  the  nose,  the  touch,  the  tast,  and  sight  ? 
When  Venus  would  her  dear  Ascanius  keep 
A  pris'ner  in  the  downy  bands  of  sleep, 
She  odorous  herbs  and  flowers  about  him  spred, 

As  the  most  soft  and  sweetest  bed ; 
Not  her  own  lap  would  more  have  charm'd  his  head. 

Who  that  has  Reason,  and  his  smel, 
Would  not  amoungst  roses  and  jasmin  dwell. 

Rather  then  all  his  spirits  choak 
With  exhalations  of  dirt  and  smoak  ? 

ABRAHAM  COWLEY 
The  Garden  (1666) 


Music  AND  VIRTUOUS  THOUGHTS 


Happy  are  they  that  go  to  bed  with  grave  musick  like 
Pythagoras,  or  have  wayes  to  compose  the  phantasticall 
spirit,  whose  unrulie  wandrings  takes  of  inward  sleepe, 
filling  our  heads  with  St.  Anthonies  visions,  and  the 
dreames  of  Lipara  in  the  sober  chambers  of  rest. 

Virtuous  thoughts  of  the  day  laye  up  good  treasors  for 
the  night  .  .  .  hereby  Solomons  sleepe  was  happy. 

SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE 
On  Dreams  (?) 


335 


LOVB 

Busie  old  foole,  unruly  Sunne, 
Why  dost  thou  thus, 

Through  windowes,  and  through  curtaines  call  on  us  ? 
Must  to  thy  motions  lovers  seasons  run  ? 
Sawcy  pendantique  wretch,  goe  chide 
Late  schoole  boyes,  and  sowre  prentices, 
Goe  tell  Court-huntsmen,  that  the  King  will  ride, 
Call  countrey  ants  to  harvest  offices  ; 
Love,  all  alike,  no  season  knowes,  nor  clyme, 
Nor  houres,  dayes,  moneths,  which  are  the  rags  of 
time.  .  .  , 

If  her  eyes  have  not  blinded  thine, 
Looke,  and  to  morrow  late,  tell  mee, 
Whether  both  the  India's  of  spice  and  Myne 
Be  where  thou  leftst  them,  or  lie  here  with  mee. 
Aske  for  those  Kings  whom  thou  saw'st  yesterday, 
And  thou  shalt  heare,  All  here  in  one  bed  lay. 

She  is  all  States,  and  all  Princes,  I, 
Nothing  else  is. 

Princes  doe  but  play  us  ;  compared  to  this, 
All  honor's  mimique ;  All  wealth  alchemic. 

Thou  sunne  art  halfe  as  happy  as  wee, 

In  that  the  world's  contracted  thus  ; 
Thine  age  askes  ease,  and  since  they  duties  bee 
To  warme  the  world,  that's  done  in  warming  us. 
Shine  here  to  us,  and  thou  art  every  where  ; 
This  bed  thy  center  is,  these  walls,  thy  spheare. 

JOHN  DONNE 

The  Sunne  rising  (Songs  and  Sonnets  1590-1601) 
336 


SAFETY 

From  noise  of  Scare-fires  rest  ye  free. 
From  Murders  Benedicitie. 
From  all  mischances,  they  may  fright 
Your  pleasing  slumbers  in  the  night : 
Mercie  secure  ye  all,  and  keep 
The  Goblin  from  ye,  while  ye  sleep. 
Past  one  aclock,  and  almost  two, 
My  Masters  all,  Good  day  to  you. 

ROBERT  HERRICK 
The  Bell-man.  Hesperides  (1648) 


SLEEP 

Come  sleepe,  o  sleepe,  the  certaine  knot  of  peace, 
The  baiting  place  of  wit,  the  balme  of  woe, 
The  poore  mans  wealth,  the  prisoners  release, 
Th'  indifferent  Judge  betweene  the  high  and  low ; 

With  shield  of  proofe  shield  me  from  out  the  prease 
Of  those  fierce  darts,  dispaire  at  me  doth  throw  : 

0  make  in  me  those  civill  warres  to  cease ; 

1  will  good  tribute  pay  if  thou  wilt  do  so. 

Take  thou  of  me  smooth  pillowes,  sweetest  bed, 
A  chamber  deafe  to  noise,  and  blind  to  light : 
A  rosie  garland,  and  a  wearie  hed  : 

And  if  these  things,  as  being  thine  in  right, 
Move  not  thy  heavy  grace,  thou  shalt  in  me, 
Livelier  than  else-where  Stellas  image  see. 

SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY 

Astrophel  and  Stella  (1591) 
337 


DREAMS 


But  the  phantasmes  of  sleepe  do  commonly  walk  in  the 
great  roade  of  naturall  and  animal  dreames  ;  wherein  the 
thoughts  or  actions  of  the  day  are  acted  over  and  echoed  in 
the  night.  Who  can  therefore  wonder  that  Chrysostome 
should  dreame  of  St  Paul  who  dayly  read  his  Epistles  ; 
or  that  Cardan  whose  head  was  so  taken  up  about  the 
starres  should  dreame  that  his  soule  was  in  the  moone  ! 
Pious  persons  whose  thoughts  are  dayly  buisied  about 
heaven  and  the  blessed  state  thereof,  can  hardly  escape 
the  nightly  phantasmes  of  it  ... 

Physitians  will  tell  us  that  some  food  makes  turbulent, 
some  gives  quiet  dreames.  Cato  who  doated  upon  cabbadge 
might  find  the  crude  effects  thereof  in  his  sleepe  ;  wherin 
the  ^Egyptians  might  find  some  advantage  by  their  super- 
stitious abstinence  from  onyons.  Pythagoras  might  have 
more  calmer  sleepes  if  hee  totally  abstained  from 
beanes. . . . 

To  adde  unto  the  delusion  of  dreames,  the  phantasticall 
objects  seeme  greater  then  they  are  ...  whereby  it  may 
prove  more  easie  to  dreame  of  Gyants  then  pygmies. 
Democritus  might  seldome  dreame  of  Atomes,  who  so 
often  thought  of  them 

That  some  have  never  dreamed  is  as  improbable  as 
that  some  have  never  laughed.  That  children  dreame 
not  the  first  half  yeare,  that  men  dreame  not  ins  some 
countries,  with  many  more,  are  unto  mee  sick  mens 
dreames,  dreames  out  of  the  Ivorie  gate,  and  visions 
before  midnight. 

SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE 

On  Dreams  (undated) 

338 


Thou  only  canst  each  absent  Blessing  grant, 
Which,  but  asleep,  we  languish  for  and  want. 
Thou'rt  the  chast  Comfort  of  the  Widow's  Bed, 
That  kindly  do'st  restore  the  Husband  dead  ; 
And  O,  thou  full  Refreshment  to  the  Maid, 
Who  do'st,  in  Dreams,  her  feav'rish  Passion  aid  ... 
No  man's  undone,  who  seems  apprest  by  Thee ; 
Debtors  are  under  thy  Arrest  made  free  ; 
Thou  cansy  poor  Slaves  from  Chains  awhile  release, 
In  Durance  give  them  Freedom,  Health,  and  Ease. 
By  Thee,  our  Cares  in  difF'rent  Lights  are  rang'd, 
And  black  Despair  for  Cheerful  Hopes  exchang'd. 
Distance  and  Time  thou  canst  at  Will  oe'rleap, 
And  compremise  whole  Years  in  one  short  Sleep. 
By  Thee  divided  Freinds  embrace  in  Thought, 
And  absent  Lovers  are  together  brought. 

WILLIAM  WYCHERLEY 

Sleep  and  Death  (?  1729) 


Awake,  awake,  my  little  boy  ! 
Thou  wast  thy  mother's  only  joy  ; 
Why  dost  thou  weep  in  thy  gentle  sleep  ? 
Awake  !  thy  father  does  thee  keep. 

"  O,  what  land  is  the  Land  of  Dreams  ? 

What  are  its  mountains,  and  what  are  its  streams  ? 

0  father  !  I  saw  my  mother  there, 
Among  the  lilies  by  waters  fair. 

Among  the  lambs,  clothed  in  white, 

She  walk'd  with  her  Thomas  in  sweet  delight. 

1  wept  for  joy,  like  a  dove  I  mourn ; 
O  !  when  shall  I  again  return  ?  " 

339 


Dear  child,  I  also  by  pleasant  streams 

Have  wander'd  all  night  in  the  Land  of  Dreams  ; 

But  tho'  calm  and  warm  the  waters  wide, 

I  could  not  get  to  the  other  side. 

"  Father,  O  father  !  what  do  we  here 
In  this  land  of  unbelief  and  fear  ? 
The  Land  of  Dreams  is  better  far. 
Above  the  light  of  the  morning  Star." 

WILLIAM  BLAKE 

The  Land  of  Dreams  (c.  1802) 


My  Lady  Seymour  dreamt,  that  shee  found  a  nest,  with 
nine  finches  in  it.  And  so  many  children  shee  had  by  the 
Earl  of  Winchelsea,  whose  name  is  Finch. 

When  Sir  Christopher  Wren  was  at  Paris,  about  1671 
...  he  dreamt,  that  he  was  in  a  place  where  Palm-trees 
grew  (suppose  Eygpt)  and  that  a  woman  in  a  romantick 
habit,  reach'd  him  dates. 

JOHN  AUBREY 
Dreams  (Miscellanies]  (1696) 


Methought  I  saw  my  late  espoused  Saint 
Brought  to  me  like  Alcestis  from  the  grave, 
Whom  Joves  great  Son  to  her  glad  Husband  gave, 
Rescu'd  from  death  by  force  though  pale  and  faint. 
Mine  as  whom  washt  from  spot  of  child-bed  taint, 
Purification  in  the  old  Law  did  save, 
And  such,  as  yet  once  more  I  trust  to  have 
Full  sight  of  her  in  Heaven  without  restraint, 
340 


Came  vested  all  in  white,  pure  as  her  mind : 

Her  face  was  vail'd,  yet  to  my  fancied  sight, 

Love,  sweetness,  goodness,  in  her  person  shin'd 

So  clear,  as  in  no  face  with  more  delight. 

But  O  as  to  embrace  me  she  enclin'd 

I  wak'd,  she  fled,  and  day  brought  back  my  night. 

JOHN   MILTON 

Sonnet  XIX  (c.  1657) 


AN  INTELLIGENT  PHYSICIAN 


When  a  sad  and  sicke  patient  was  brought  to  him  [Epicurus] 
to  be  cured,  Hee  laid  him  on  a  downe  bed,  crowned  him 
with  a  garland  of  sweet-smelling  flowres,  in  a  fair e  perfumed 
closet  delicately  set  out,  and,  after  a  potion  or  two  of  good 
drink,  which  he  administred,  he  brought  in  a  beautifull  young 
wench  that  could  play  upon  a  Lute,  sing  and  dance,  &c.  .  ,  . 
Most  of  our  looser  Physitians  in  some  cases  .  .  .  allow  of 
this,  and  all  of  them  will  have  a  melancholy,  sad,  and 
discontented  Person,  make  frequent  use  of  honest  sportes, 
companies,  and  recreations. 

ROBERT  BURTON 

The  Anatomy  of  Melancholy 
(1621.  Edition  1632) 


341 


INDUSTRY 


A  DILIGENT  YOUTH 

Before  I  was  sixteen,  I  had  exhausted  all  that  could  be 
learned  in  English  of  the  Arabs  and  Persians,  the  Tartars 
and  Turks  ;  and  the  same  ardour  urged  me  to  guess  at  the 
French  of  d'Herbelot,  and  to  construe  the  barbarous  Latin 
of  Pocock's  Abulpharagius.  .  / .  The  maps  of  Cellarius 
and  Wells  imprinted  in  my  mind  the  picture  of  ancient 
Geography ;  from  Strauchius  I  imbibed  the  elements  of 
Chronology ;  the  tables  of  Helvicus  and  Anderson,  the 
annals  of  Usher  and  Prideaux,  distinguished  the  connection 
of  events,  and  I  engraved  the  multitude  of  names  and  dates 
in  a  clear  and  indelible  series.  But  in  the  discussion  of  the 
first  ages  I  overleaped  the  bounds  of  modesty  and  use.  In 
my  childish  balance  I  presumed  to  weight  the  systems  of 
Scaliger  and  Petavius,  of  Marsham  and  Newton  which  I 
could  seldom  study  in  the  originals ;  the  Dynasties  of 
Assyria  and  Egypt  were  my  top  and  cricket-ball ;  and  my 
sleep  has  been  disturbed  by  the  difficulty  of  reconciling 
the  Septuagint  with  the  Hebrew  commutation.  .  .  . 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  first  period  of  my  life,  I  am 
tempted  to  utter  a  protest  against  the  trite  and  lavish  praise 
of  the  happiness  of  our  boyish  years,  which  is  echoed  with 

342 


so  much  affectation  in  the  World.  That  happiness  I  have 
never  known,  that  time  I  have  never  regretted ;  and  were 
my  poor  aunt  still  alive.,  she  would  bear  testimony  to  the 
early  and  constant  uniformity  of  my  sentiments.  .  .  .  My 
name,  it  is  most  true,  could  never  be  enrolled  among  the 
sprightly  race,  the  idle  progeny  of  Eton  or  Westminster, 
who  delight  to  cleave  the  water  with  pliant  arm,  to  urge 
the  flying  ball,  and  to  chace  the  speed  of  the  rolling  circle. 
...  A  state  of  happiness  arising  only  from  the  want  of 
foresight  and  reflection  shall  never  provoke  my  envy ;  such 
degenerate  taste  would  tend  to  sink  us  in  the  scale  of 
beings  from  a  man  to  a  child,  a  dog,  and  an  oyster,  till  we 
had  reached  the  confines  of  brute  matter,  which  cannot 
suffer  because  it  cannot  feel. 

EDWARD   GIBBON 
Autobiography  (1792) 


MIDNIGHT   STUDY 

This  man  whom  about  mid-night,  when  others  take  their 
rest,  thou  seeest  come  out  of  his  study  meagre-looking, 
with  eyes-trilling,  flegmatique,  squalide,  and  spauling, 
doest  thou  thinke,  that  plodding  on  his  books  he  doth 
seek  how  he  shall  become  an  honester  man;  or  more 
wise,  or  more  content  ?  There  is  no  such  matter.  He  will 
either  die  in  his  pursuit,  or  teach  posteritie  the  measure 
of  Plautus  verse,  and  the  true  orthography  of  a  Latine 
word. 

MICHEL  DE  MONTAIGNE 

Essays  :  Of  Solitarinesse  (1580) 

Trans.  John  Florio  (1603) 

343 


NEVER  IDLE 

A  person  of  great  temperance,  and  deepe  thought,  and  a 
working  head,  never  idle.  From  14  he  had  a  candle  burn- 
ing by  him  all  night,  with  pen,  inke,  and  paper,  to  write 
downe  thoughts  as  they  came  into  his  head ;  that  so  he 
might  not  loose  a  thought.  Was  ever  a  great  lover  of 
Naturall  Philosophic.  His  whole  life  has  been  perplext  in 
lawe-suits  ...  in  which  he  alwaies  over-came  .  .  .  one 
lasted  1 8  yeares.  JOHN  AUBREY 

Brief  Lives  :  James  Bovey  (c.  1680) 

BUILDING  A  TOWN 

Thebes  being  at  that  time  inhabited  by  a  barbarous  un- 
polished People,  was  nothing  but  a  confused  Heap  of  Huts, 
scattered  here  and  there  ;  and  the  Town,  if  yet  it  de- 
served the  Name,  had  no  Walls  capable  to  defend  it  against 
any  Attacks  from  without.  Amphion,  relying  on  the  Assist- 
ance of  the  MuseSy  proposed  to  render  his  new  Conquest 
an  impregnable  Fort,  and  to  give  it  an  Air  of  Magnificence 
worthy  of  the  Residence  of  Kings.  He  invokes  those  God- 
desses who  had  always  made  him  their  peculiar  Care,  and 
no  sooner  does  he  begin  to  tune  his  Voice  and  touch  the 
Lyre,  than  the  Stones,  animated  by  his  inchanting  Strains, 
leap  from  the  Rocks,  and  raise  themselves  into  regular 
Buildings,  as  if  they  had  been  placed  by  the  Hand  of  a 
skilful  Architect :  Walls  and  Towers  rise  round  Thebes, 
and  its  mean  Cottages  are  changed  into  lofty  Palaces. 

ANON 

The  Temple  of  the  Muses  (1738) 
(From  the  French  of  Michel  de  Marolles) 

344 


THE  INDUSTRIOUS  DEAN 


Nor  was  his  age  onely  so  industrious,  but  in  his  most 
unsetled  youth  he  was  (being  in  health)  never  knowne  to 
be  in  bed  after  foure  of  the  clock  in  the  morning,  nor 
usually  out  of  his  chamber  till  ten,  and  imployed  that 
time  constantly  (if  not  more)  in  his  Studie.  Which,  if  it 
seeme  strange,  may  gain  beliefe  by  the  visible  fruits  of 
his  labours  :  some  of  which  remaine  to  testifie  what  is 
here  written  :  for  he  left  the  resultance  of  1400  Authors, 
most  of  them  analyzed  with  his  owne  hand  ;  He  left  also 
six  score  Sermons,  also,  all  writ  with  his  owne  hand ;  a 
large  and  laborious  Treatise  concerning  Selfe-murther, 
called  Biathanatosey  wherein  all  the  Lawes  violated  by  that 
act,  are  diligently  survayed,  and  judiciously  censured  ;  A 
Treatise  written  in  his  youth,  which  alone  might  declare 
him  then,  not  onely  perfect  in  the  Civil  and  Canon  Law, 
but  in  many  other  such  studies  and  arguments  as  enter 
not  into  the  consideration  of  many  profest  Scholars,  that 
labour  to  be  thought  learned  Clerks,  and  to  know  all 
things. 

Nor  were  these  onely  found  in  his  Studie,  but  all  busi- 
nesses that  past  of  any  publique  consequence  in  this  or 
any  of  our  neighbour  Kingdoms,  he  abbreviated  either  in 
Latine,  or  in  the  Language  of  the  Nation,  and  kept  them 
by  him  for  a  memoriall.  So  he  did  the  Copies  of  divers 
Letters  and  Cases  of  Conscience  that  had  concerned  his 
friends,  (with  his  solutions)  and  divers  other  businesses  of 
importance,  all  particularly  and  methodically  digested  by 
himselfe. 

IZAAK   WALTON 

Life  and  Death  of  Dr.  Donne  (1640) 
345 


INSULT 


A  FEW  OF  DR.  JOHNSON'S 

He  related  to  me  a  short  dialogue  that  passed  between 
himself  and  a  writer  of  the  first  eminence  in  the  world, 

when  he  was  in  Scotland  ...  Dr. asked  me  (said  he) 

why  I  did  not  join  in  their  public  worship  when  among 
them  ?  for  (said  he)  I  went  to  your  churches  often  when 
in  England.  "  So  (replied  Johnson)  I  have  read  that  the 
Siamese  sent  ambassadors  to  Louis  Quatorze,  but  I  never 
heard  that  the  king  of  France  thought  it  worth  his  while 
to  send  ambassadors  from  his  court  to  that  of  Siam"  .... 
When  I  one  day  lamented  the  loss  of  a  first  cousin  killed 
in  America — "  Prithee,  my  dear  (said  he)  have  done  with 
canting  :  how  would  the  world  be  worse  for  it,  I  may  ask, 
if  all  your  relations  were  at  once  spitted  like  larks  and 
roasted  for  Presto's  supper  ?  "  Presto  was  the  dog  that 
lay  under  the  table.  .  .  .  One  day  at  dinner  I  meant  to 
please  Mr  Johnson  particularly  with  a  dish  of  very  young 
peas.  Are  not  they  charming  ?  said  I  to  him,  while  he  was 
eating  them. — "  Perhaps  (said  he)  they  would  be  so — to 
apfc." 

HESTHER  PIOZZI 

Anecdotes  of  Dr.  Johnson  (1786) 
346 


An  essay  .  .  .  maintaining  the  future  life  of  brutes  . .  .  was 
mentioned,  and  the  doctrine  insisted  on  by  a  gentleman  who 
seemed  fond  of  curious  speculation.  Johnson,  who  did  not 
like  to  hear  of  any  thing  concerning  a  future  state  which 
was  not  authorised  by  the  regular  canons  of  orthodoxy, 
discouraged  this  talk  ;  and  being  offended  by  its  continua- 
tion, he  watched  an  opportunity  to  give  the  gentleman 
a  blow  of  reprehension.  So,  when  the  poor  speculatist, 
with  a  serious  metaphysical  face,  addressed  him,  "  But 
really,  Sir,  when  we  see  a  very  sensible  dog,  we  don't 
know  what  to  think  of  him,"  Johnson,  rolling  with  joy  at 
the  thought  which  beamed  in  his  eye,  turned  quickly 
round  and  replied,  "  True,  Sir  :  and  when  we  see  a  very 
foolish  fellow,  we  don't  know  what  to  think  of  him  "  He 
then  rose  up,  strided  to  the  fire,  and  stood  for  some  time 
laughing  and  exulting. 

JAMES  BOSWELL,  Life  of  Johnson  (1792) 


SOME  OF  MILTON'S 

His  very  first  page  notoriously  bewraies  him  an  illiterat 
and  arrogant  presumer  .  .  .  bearing  us  in  hand  as  if  hee 
knew  both  Greek  and  Ebrew,  and  is  not  able  to  spell  it ... 
I  shall  yet  continue  to  think  that  man  full  of  other  secret 
injustice  and  deceitfull  pride,  who  shall  offer  in  public  to 
assume  the  skill,  though  it  bee  but  of  a  tongue  which  hee 
hath  not . . .  Nor  did  I  finde  this  his  want  of  the  pretended 
Languages  alone,  but  accompanied  with  such  a  low  and 
home-spun  expression  of  his  Mother  English  all  along, 
without  joynt  or  frame,  as  made  mee,  ere  I  knew  furder 
of  him,  often  stop,  and  conclude,  that  this  Author  could 
for  certain  bee  no  other  then  some  Mechanick  ...  a  gross 

347 


and  sluggish,  yet  a  contentious  and  overweening  pretender 
. .  .  since  ratifi'd  to  bee  no  other,  if  any  can  hold  laughter, 
then  an  actual  Serving-man.  This  creature  .  .  .  turn'd 
Sollicker  ...  a  Servingman  by  nature  and  by  practice,  an 
Idiot  by  breeding,  and  a  Sollicker  by  presumption.  .  .  . 
Observe  now  the  arrogance  of  a  groom,  how  it  will  mount 
.  . .  jesting  and  frisking  in  the  luxury  of  his  non-sense  to 
cog  a  laughter  from  us  ...  this  odious  fool,  who  thus  ever 
when  hee  meets  with  ought  above  the  cogitation  of  his 
breeding,  leavs  the  noysom  stench  of  his  rude  slot  behind 
him  ....  the  filth  and  venom  of  this  gourmand  . . .  not  a 
golden  but  a  brazen  ass.  Since  my  fate  extorts  from  mee 
a  talent  of  sport,  which  I  had  thought  to  hide  in  a  napkin, 
hee  shall  bee  my  Batrachomuomachia,  my  Bavius>  my 
Calandrino,  the  common  adagy  of  ignorance  and  over- 
weening. .  .  . 

Thus  much  to  this  Nuisance.  JOHN  MILTON 

Colas terion  (1645) 


KNOWLEDGE 


ECSTASY 

The  discovery  of  the  two  actively  opposite  tartaric  acids 
was  a  momentous  one,  effecting  a  revolution  in  the  views 
of  chemists  regarding  molecular  structure ;  and  we  can  well 
understand  the  feeling  of  happiness  and  the  nervous  excite- 
ment by  which  Pasteur  was  overcome  on  making  his  dis- 
covery. Rushing  from  his  laboratory  and  meeting  a  curator 

348 


he  embraced  him,  exclaiming,  "  I  have  just  made  a  great 
discovery  !  I  have  separated  the  sodium  ammonium  paro- 
tartrate  with  two  salts  of  opposite  action  on  the  plane  of 
polarisation  of  light.  The  dextro-salt  is  in  all  respects 
identical  with  the  dextro-tartrate.  I  am  so  happy  and  over- 
come by  such  nervous  excitement  that  I  am  unable  to 
place  my  eye  again  to  the  polarisation  apparatus." 

ALEXANDER  FINDLAY 

Chemistry  in  the  Service  of  Man  (1916) 


TEASING  THE  ASSEMBLY  OF  DIVINES 

He  was  one  of  the  Assembly  of  Divines  in  those  days 
....  and  was  like  a  Thorne  in  their  sides ;  for  he  did  baffle 
and  vex  them  ;  for  he  was  able  to  runne  them  all  downe 
with  his  Greeke  and  antiquities.  JOHN  AUBREY 

Brief  Lives  :  John  Selden  (c.  1680) 


WISDOM  REWARDED 

And  the  Quene  of  Saba  hearde  of  the  fame  of  Salomon 
and  came  to  prove  him  with  ryddelles  at  Jerusalem,  with 
a  very  great  companye,  and  with  camelles  that  bare  swete 
odoures  and  plentye  of  golde  and  preciouse  stone.  And  when 
she  was  come  to  Salomon,  she  communed  with  him  of 
all  that  was  in  her  herte.  And  Salomon  foyled  her  all  her 
questions,  that  there  was  nothing  hid  from  Salomon  which 
he  tolde  her  not.  And  when  the  quene  of  Saba  had  sene 
the  wisdom  of  Salomon  and  the  house  that  he  had  built, 
and  the  meat  of  hys  table,  and  the  syttinge  of  hys  servantes, 

349 


and  the  standynge  of  hys  wayters  and  their  apparell,  and  hys 
buttelars  with  their  apparell,  and  his  parlour  out  of  which 
he  went  into  the  house  of  the  Lord,  she  was  so  astonyed 
that  there  was  no  moare  herte  in  her.  And  then  she  sayde 
to  the  kynge  ....  the  one  halfe  of  thy  wysdome  was  not 
tolde  me  :  thou  exceedest  the  fame  that  I  hearde,  happye 
are  thy  men,  and  happye  are  these  thy  servauntes  which 
stande  before  thee  alJwaye  and  heare  thy  wisdome.  .  . 
And  she  gave  the  Kyng  an  hundred  and  twenty  talentes  of 
gould,  and  of  swete  odoures  exceedynge  great  aboun- 
dance  with  preciouse  stones,  and  there  was  no  soche  swete 
odoures  as  the  quene  of  Saba  gave  kynge  Salomon 

Chronicles  ii 
Trans,  by  William  Tyndale.  Matthew's  Bible  (1537) 


LIBERTY 


OF  THE  ENGLISH 

I  look  upon  Humour  to  be  almost  of  English  Growth  ;  at 
least,  it  does  not  seem  to  have  found  such  encrease  on  any 
other  Soil.  And  what  appears  to  me  to  be  the  reason  of  it, 
is  the  great  Freedom,  Privilege  and  Liberty  which  the 
Common  People  of  England  enjoy.  Any  Man  that  has  a 
Humour  is  under  no  restraint,  or  fear  of  giving  it  Vent ; 
They  have  a  proverb  among  them,  which,  may  be,  will 
shew  the  Bent  and  Genius  of  the  People,  as  well  as  a  longer 

350 


Discourse  He  that  will  have  a  May-Pole,  shall  have  a  May- 
Pole.  This  is  a  Maxim  with  them,  and  their  Practice  is 
agreeable  to  it.  I  believe  something  Considerable  too  may 
be  ascribed  to  their  feeding  so  much  on  Flesh,  and  the 
Grossness  of  their  Diet  in  general.  But  I  have  done,  let  the 
Physicians  agree  that. 

WILLIAM  CONGREVE,  Letter  to  John  Dennis  (1695) 


OF  DRUNKARDS 

It  must  be  confess'd  that  the  notion  of  Liberty  is  deeply 
imprinted  in  our  hearts,  there  being  certainly  nothing 
more  advantagious,  nothing  more  beneficial,  more 
pleasing,  and  more  agreeable  to  human  Reason.  'Tis 
Liberty  that  by  its  origin  and  excellence  imparts  to  us  a 
great  resemblance,  and,  as  it  were,  unites  us  with  the 
Divine  Nature  itself:  for  the  Gods,  tho'  they  injoy 
immense  Pleasures,  yet  their  highest  excellency  consists 
in  having  their  Will  unlimited  by  any  superior  Power. 
You  that  are  enemies  to  Drunkenness,  consider  seriously 
the  course  of  all  sublunary  things  :  consider  whether  'Tis 
not  the  Drunkard  that,  before  all  Others,  can  boast  of  this 
Liberty,  and  acts  as  uncontroulable  as  the  Gods  them- 
selves. 

TOM  BROWN,  Oration  in  Praise  of  Drunkenness  (169-) 


OF  CONVERSING  WHERE  WE  LIKE 

MRS  FRAIL  :    Lord,  where's  the  Comfort  of  this  Life,  if 
we  can't  have  the  Happiness  of  conversing  where  we  like  ? 
WILLIAM  CONGREVE,  Love  for  Love  (1695) 
351 


OF  SPEECH  AND  OF  BLOW 

In  short,  Sir,  I  have  got  no  further  than  this  :  every  man 
has  a  right  to  utter  what  he  thinks  truth,  and  every  other 
man  has  a  right  to  knock  him  down  for  it. 

JAMES   BOSWELL 

Life  of  Johnson  (1791) 


OF  THE  PRESS 


The  Multiplicity  of  Religious  Sects  tolerated  among  us  ... 
is  another  Source  of  unexhaustible  Publication,  almost 
peculiar  to  ourselves ;  for  Controversies  cannot  be  long 
continued  .  .  .  where  an  Inquisitor  has  a  Right  to  shut  up 
the  Disputants  in  dungeons ;  or  where  Silence  can  be 
imposed  on  either  Party,  by  the  Refusal  of  a  License. 

Not  that  it  should  be  inferred  from  hence,  that  Political 
or  Religious  Controversies  are  the  only  Products  of  the 
Liberty  of  the  British  Press ;  the  Mind  once  let  loose  to 
Enquiry,  and  suffered  to  operate  without  Restraint,  neces- 
sarily deviates  into  peculiar  Opinions,  and  wanders  in  new 
Tracks,  where  she  is  indeed  sometimes  lost  in  a  Labyrinth 
.  .  .  yet  sometimes  makes  useful  Discoveries,  or  finds  out 
nearer  Paths  to  Knowledge.  .  .  . 

All  these  and  many  other  Causes,  too  tedious  to  be 
enumerated,  have  contributed  to  make  Pamphlets  and 
small  Tracts  a  very  important  Part  of  an  English  Library. 

SAMUEL  JOHNSON 

Origin  and  Importance  of  small  tracts  (1744) 
352 


LUNATIC 


NEW  MOON 

For  in  the  new  moone  they  [elephants]  come  together  in 
great  companies,  and  bath  and  wash  them  in  a  river,  and 
lowte  each  to  other,  and  turne  so  againe  to  their  own  places. 

BARTHOLOMEW  ANGLICUS 

De  Proprietatibus  Rerum  (c.  1240) 
Trans.  John  Trevisa  (1398,  modernised  1582) 


Mutianus  saith  .  .  .  that  when  the  moon  is  in  the  wain, 
the  monkies  and  marmosets  . . .  are  sad  and  heavy,  but  the 
new  moone  they  adore  and  joy  at,  which  they  testifie  by 
hopping  and  dancing.  PLINY  THE  ELDER 

Natural  History  (c.  77).  Trans.  Philemon  Holland  (1601) 


THE  MOON'S  MEN 

FALSTAFF  :  Now,  Hal,  what  time  of  day  is  it  Lad  ? 
PRINCE  :  . .  .  .  What  a  divell  hast  thou  to  do  with  the 
time  of  the  day  ?  unlesse  houres  were  cups  of  Sacke, 
and  minutes  Capons,  and  clockes  the  tongues  of  Bawdes, 
MP  353 


and  dialls  the  signes  of  Leaping-Houses,  and  the  blessed 
Sunne  himselfe  a  faire  hot  Wench  in  Flame-coloured 
Taffata ;  I  see  no  reason,  why  thou  shouldest  bee  so  super- 
fluous, to  demaund  the  time  of  the  day. 
FAL.  :  Indeed  you  come  neere  me  now  Hal,  for  we  that 
take  Purses,  go  by  the  Moone  and  seven  Starres,  and  not 
by  Phoebus  hee,  that  wand'ring  Knight  so  faire.  And  I 
prithee  sweet  Wagge,  when  thou  art  King  ...  let  not  us 
that  are  Squires  of  the  Nights  bodie,  bee  call'd  Theeves  of 
the  Dayes  beautie.  Let  us  be  Dianaes  Forresters,  Gentle- 
men of  the  Shade,  Minions  of  the  Moone  ;  and  let  men 
say,  we  be  men  of  good  Government,  being  governed  as 
the  Sea  is,  by  our  noble  and  chast  mistris  the  Moone, 
under  whose  countenance  we  steale. 
PRINCE  :  Thou  say'st  well,  and  it  holds  well  too  :  for  the 
fortune  of  us  that  are  the  Moones  men,  doeth  ebbe  and 
flow  like  the  Sea,  being  governed  as  the  Sea  is,  by  the 
Moone  :  as  for  proofe.  Now  a  Purse  of  Gold  most  reso- 
lutely snatch'd  on  Monday  night,  and  most  dissolutely 
spent  on  Tuesday  Morning ;  got  with  swearing,  Lay  by, 
and  spent  with  crying,  Bring  in  :  now,  in  as  low  an  ebbe 
as  the  foot  of  the  Ladder,  and  by  and  by  in  as  high  a  flow 
as  the  ridge  of  the  Gallowes. 

WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE 

Henry  IV,  Part  I  (1596) 

(Edition  1623) 

HONEY 

Take  hony  at  the  chaungyng  of  the  moon. 

Book  of  St.  Albans  (1486) 
354 


MOON-SPECULATIONS 

I  am  surpriz'd,  said  the  Countess,  that  there  should  be  so 
little  mystery  in  Eclipses  and  that  the  whole  World  should 
not  know  the  Cause  of  'em.  Nor  ever  will,  said  I,  as  some 
People  go  about  it.  In  the  East  Indies,  when  the  Sun  and 
Moon  are  in  Eclipse  ...  the  Rivers  are  cover'd  with  the 
Heads  of  Indians,  who  are  up  to  the  Neck  in  Water, 
because  they  esteem  it  a  very  devout  Posture,  to  implore 
the  Sun  and  the  Moon  to  defend  themselves  against  the 
Devil.  In  America  they  are  persuaded  that  the  Sun  and  the 
Moon,  when  eclipsed,  are  angry,  and  what  is  it  they  will 
not  do  to  be  reconciled  with  them  ?  The  Greeks,  who  were 
so  refin'd,  did  they  not  believe  the  Moon  was  enchanted, 
and  that  the  Magicians  forc'd  her  to  descend  from  Heaven, 
and  shed  a  dangerous  juice  on  the  Plants  ?  .  .  . 

But  what  do  you  think,  said  she,  of  the  People  in  the 
Moon,  are  they  as  afraid  of  an  Eclipse  as  we  are  ?  It  would 
be  very  burlesque  for  the  Indians  there  to  be  up  to  the 
Neck  in  Water ;  that  the  Americans  should  believe  the 
Earth  angry  with  them ;  the  Greeks  fancy  we  were 
bewitch'd,  and  would  destroy  their  Plants  ;  in  short,  that 
we  should  cause  the  same  Consternation  among  them,  as 
they  do  here.  And  why  not,  said  I  ?  I  do  not  doubt  it  at 
all ;  for  why  should  the  People  of  the  Moon  have  more 
Wit  than  we  ?  For  my  part,  I  believe  that  since  a  prodig- 
ious company  of  Men  have  been  and  still  are  such  Fools 
to  adore  the  Moon,  there  are  People  in  the  Moon  that 
worship  the  Earth,  and  that  we  are  upon  our  knees  the 
one  to  the  other.  .  .  . 

I  am  going  to  tell  you  one  of  the  agreeable  Follies  of 
Ariosto,  and  I  am  confident  you  will  be  well  pleas'd  to  hear 
it :  I  must  confess  he  had  better  have  let  alone  St  John, 

355 


whose  Name  is  so  worthy  of  Respect,  but  'tis  a  Poetical 
License,  and  must  be  allowed.  .  . .  Astolfo  a  Knight  Errant, 
finding  himself  one  day  in  the  terrestrial  Paradise,  which 
was  on  the  top  of  a  very  high  Mountain,  whereto  he  was 
carry'd  by  his  flying  Horse,  meets  Si  John  there,  who  tells 
him  ...  he  must  make  a  Voyage  with  him  into  the  Moon. 
Astolfo,  who  had  a  great  mind  to  see  Countrys,  did  not 
stand  much  upon  entreaty,  and  immediately  there  came  a 
fiery  Chariot,  which  carry'd  the  Apostle  and  the  Knight  up 
into  the  Air ;  Astolfo  being  no  great  Philosopher,  was 
surpriz'd  to  find  the  Moon  so  much  bigger  than  it 
appear'd  to  him  when  he  was  upon  the  Earth ;  to  see 
Rivers,  Seas,  Mountains,  Cities,  Forrests,  nay,  what 
would  have  surpriz'd  me  too,  Nymphs  hunting  in  those 
Forrests  ;  but  that  which  was  most  remarkable,  was  a 
Valley  where  you  might  find  any  thing  that  was  lost  in  our 
World,  of  what  Nature  so  ever ;  Crowns,  Riches,  Fame, 
and  an  infinity  of  Hopes,  the  time  we  spend  in  Play,  and 
in  searching  for  the  Philosophers  stone,  the  Alms  we  give 
after  our  Death,  the  Verses  we  present  to  great  Men  and 
Princes,  and  the  Sighs  of  Lovers  ...  I  assure  you  the  Moon 
keeps  all  safe  that  is  lost  here  below  .  .  .  everything  is 
there,  even  to  the  donation  of  Constantine,  i.e.  the  Popes 
have  pretended  to  be  Masters  of  Rome  and  Italy  by  Virtue 
of  a  Donation  which  the  Emperour  Constantine  made 
Sylvester;  and  the  truth  is,  no  body  knows  what  is  become 
of  it ;  but  what  do  you  think  is  not  to  be  found  in  the 
Moon  ?  Folly,  all  that  ever  was  upon  the  Earth  is  kept 
there  still,  but  in  lieu  of  it,  it  is  not  to  be  imagined  how 
many  Wits  (if  I  may  so  call  'em)  that  are  lost  here,  are  got 
up  into  the  Moon,  they  are  so  many  Vials  full  of  a  very 
subtile  Liquor,  .  .  .  and  upon  every  one  of  these  Vials  the 
Names  are  written  to  whom  the  Wits  belong'd. . . . 


One  of  these  days  there  may  be  a  Communication 
between  the  Earth  and  the  Moon,  and  who  knows  what 
great  Advantages  we  may  procure  by  it  ?  Do  but  consider 
America  before  it  was  discovered  by  Columbus,  how  pro- 
foundly ignorant  were  those  People,  they  knew  nothing 
at  all  of  Arts  or  Sciences,  they  went  naked,  had  no  other 
Arms  but  a  Bow  and  Arrows,  and  did  not  conceive  they 
might  be  carry'd  by  Animals.  .  .  .  The  unheard  of  and 
most  surprizing  Sight  appears,  vast  great  Bodies,  with 
white  Wings,  are  seen  to  fly  upon  the  Sea,  to  vomit  Fire 
from  all  Parts,  and  to  cast  upon  their  Shoars  an  unknown 
People,  all  scaled  with  Iron,  who  dispose  and  govern 
Monsters  as  they  please ;  carry  Thunder  in  their  Hands, 
and  destroy  whoever  resists  'em.  ...  Do  but  consider, 
Madam,  the  surprize  of  the  Americans,  there  can  be 
nothing  greater ;  and  after  this,  shall  any  one  say  there 
shall  never  be  a  Communication  between  the  Moon  and 
the  Earth.  .  .  . 

Since  then  there  are  no  Vapours  thick  enough,  nor  no 
Clouds  of  Rain  about  the  Moon,  farewell  Dawn,  adieu 
Rainbow  !  What  must  Lovers  do  for  Similies  in  that 
Countrey,  when  such  an  inexhaustible  Magazine  of 
Comparisons  is  taken  from  them  ? 

I  doubt  not,  said  the  Countess,  but  there  are  those  in 
the  Moon  as  good  at  Similyas  the  greatest  Beau  in  Covent- 
Garden-,  and  had  they  neither  Sun  nor  Stars,  Pearls 
nor  Rubies,  Roses  nor  Lillies,  yet  could  say  as  many  fine 
things  to  a  Visor-Mask,  as  the  pertest  Wit  at  the  Puppet 
Show.  .  .  .  How  glorious  are  their  days,  the  Sun  continu- 
ally shining  !  How  pleasant  their  Nights,  not  the  least 
Star  is  hid  from  them  !  .  .  .  You  are  describing  the  Moon, 
/  reply* d,  like  an  enchanted  Palace ;  but  do  you  think  it 
is  so  pleasant  to  have  a  scorching  Sun  always  over  our 

357 


Heads,  and  not  the  least  Cloud  to  moderate  its  Heat?  Tho' 
I  fancy  'tis  for  this  reason  that  Nature  hath  made  great 
Cavities  in  the  Moon ;  .  .  .  what  do  we  know  but  the 
Inhabitants  of  the  Moon,  being  continually  broil'd  by  the 
excessive  heat  of  the  Sun,  do  retire  into  those  great  Wells  ; 
perhaps  they  live  no  where  else,  and  'tis  there  they  build 
'em  Cities ;  .  .  .  'Tis  no  matter,  said  the  Countess,  I  can 
never  suffer  the  Inhabitants  of  the  Moon  to  live  in  per- 
petual darkness.  You  will  be  more  concern'd  for  'em, 
I  reply'd,  when  I  tell  you  that  one  of  the  ancient  Phil- 
osophers did  long  since  discover  the  Moon  to  be  the 
abode  of  the  blessed  Souls  departed  out  of  this  Life,  and 
that  all  their  Happiness  consisted  in  hearing  the  Harmony 
of  the  Spheres  ;  that  is  the  Musick  (I  had  like  io  have  said 
Noise)  which  is  made  by  the  motion  of  the  Celestial 
Bodies ;  if  you  have  seen  a  Raree  Show,  you  will  easily 
comprehend  it.  ...  He  tells  you,  that  when  the  Moon  is 
obscur'd  by  the  shadow  of  the  Earth,  they  no  longer  hear 
the  Heavenly  Musick,  but  howl  like  so  many  Souls  in 
Purgatory  ;  so  that  the  Moon  taking  pity  of  'em,  makes  all 
the  haste  she  can  to  get  into  the  Light  again. 

BERNARD   DE   FONTENELLE 

A  Plurality  of  Worlds  (1686) 
Trans.  John  Glanvill  (1688) 


Well,  Madam,  said  /,  I  have  great  News  for  you  ;  that 
which  I  told  you  last  Night,  of  the  Moon's  being  in- 
habited, may  not  be  so  now :  There  is  a  new  Fancy  got 
into  my  Head,  which  puts  those  People  in  great  Danger. 
I  cannot  suffer  it,  said  she  ;  yesterday  you  were  preparing 
me  to  receive  a  Visit  from  'em,  and  now  there  are  no  such 
People  in  Nature :  Once  you  would  have  me  believe  the 

358 


Moon  was  inhabited  ;  I  surmounted  the  Difficulty  I  had 
and  will  now  believe  it.  ...  Methinks  I  have  a  strang< 
inclination  for  'em,  and  would  not  have  'em  destroyed,  i 
it  were  possible  to  save  'em.  You  know,  Madam,  said  1 
I  can  deny  you  nothing  ;  the  Moon  shall  no  longer  be 
Desart,  but  to  do  you  service,  we  will  repeople  her.  .  .  . 

Ibia 


DREAMS  AT  THE  NEW  MOON 

Another  way  is,  to  Charm  the  Moon  thus ;  At  the  firs 
appearance  of  the  new  Moon  after  New-year's  Day,  g 
out  in  the  Evening,  and  stand  over  the  Sparrs  of  a  Gate 
or  Stile,  looking  on  the  Moon  and  say, 

All  Hail  to  the  Moon,  all  Hail  to  thee, 

I  prithee  good  Moon  reveal  to  me, 

This  Night,  who  my  Husband  (wife)  must  be, 

You  must  presently  after  go  to  Bed. 

I  knew  two  Gentlewomen  that  did  this  when  they  wer 
young  Maids,  and  they  had  Dreams  of  those  that  Marrie 
them. 

JOHN  AUBREY,  Miscellanies  (169* 


THE  MOON  SINGS 

The  Moon,  in  her  pride,  once  glanced  aside 
Her  eyes  and  espied  the  day ; 
As  unto  his  bed,  in  wastcoat  of  red, 
Faire  Phoebus  him  led  the  way ; 
359 


Such  changes  of  thought,  in  her  chastitie  wrought, 
That  thus  she  besought  the  boy, 

0  tarry,  and  marry  the  Starry  Diana, 
That  will  be  thy  Jem  and  Joy. 

1  will  be  as  bright  at  noon  as  at  night, 
If  that  may  delight  the  day  ; 

Come  hither  and  joine  thy  glories  with  mine. 

Together  we'el  shine  for  aye. 

The  night  shall  be  noon,  and  every  moon 

As  pleasant  as  June  or  May  ; 

O  tarry,  and  marry  the  Starry  Diana, 

That  will  be  thy  Jem  and  Joy. 

Enamour'd  of  none,  I  live  chast  and  alone, 

Though  courted  of  one,  some  say ; 

And  true  if  it  were  so  frivolous  feare 

Let  never  my  dear  dismay ; 

Fie  change  my  opinion,  and  turne  my  old  Minion, 

The  Sleepy  Endimion  away, 

O  tarry,  and  Marry  the  Starry  Diana, 

That  will  be  thy  Jem  and  Joy. 

And  but  that  the  night,  should  have  wanted  her 

light, 

Or  lovers  in  sight  should  play, 
Or  Phoebus  should  shame  to  bestow  such  a  dame 
(With  a  dow'r  of  his  flame)  on  a  Boy, 
Or  day  should  appear,  eternally  here, 
And  night  otherwhere,  the  day 
Had  tarry'd  and  marry'd  the  starry'd  Diana, 
And  she  been  his  Jem  and  Joy. 

ANON 

The  Moons  Love*  (Westminster  Drollery,  1672) 
360 


LEAPING  OVER  THE  MOON 


I  saw  new  Worlds  beneath  the  Water  lye, 
New  Peeple ;  yea,  another  Sky  .  .  . 
Just  such  another 
Of  late  my  Brother 
Did  in  his  Travel  see,  and  saw  by  Night, 

A  much  more  strange  and  wondrous  Sight ; 
Nor  could  the  World  exhibit  such  another 
So  Great  a  Sight,  but  in  a  Brother.  .  .  , 


As  he  went  tripping  o'r  the  King's  high-way, 
A  little  pearly  River  lay 

O'r  which,  without  a  Wing 
Or  Oar,  he  dar'd  to  swim, 
Swim  throu  the  Air 
On  Body  fair ; 

He  would  not,  use  nor  trust  Icarian  wings 
Lest  they  should  prov  deceitful  tilings  ; 
For  had  he  fain,  it  had  been  wondrous  high, 

Not  from  but  from  abov,  the  Sky ; 
He  might  have  dropt  throu  that  thin  Element 
Into  a  fathomless  Descent ; 
Unto  the  nether  Sky 
That  did  beneath  him  ly, 
And  there  might  tell 
What  wonders  dwell, 
On  Earth  abov.  Yet  doth  he  briskly  run, 

And  bold  the  Danger  overcom ; 
Who,  as  he  leapt,  with  Joy  related  soon 
How  happy  he  o'r-leapt  the  Moon.  .  .  . 


As  much  as  others  thought  themselvs  to  ly 
Beneath  the  Moon,  so  much  more  high 
Himself  he  thought  to  fly 
Abov  the  starry  Sky, 
As  that  he  spy'd 
Below  the  Tide  .  .  . 
Thus  did  he  yield  me  in  the  shady  Night 

A  wondrous  and  instructiv  Light, 
Which  taught  me  that  under  our  Feet  there  is, 

As  o'r  our  Heads,  a  Place  of  Bliss. 
To  the  same  purpos  ;  he,  not  long  before 

Brought  home  from  Nurse,  going  to  the  door 
To  do  som  little  thing 
He  must  not  do  within, 
With  Wonder  cries, 
As  in  the  Skies 
He  saw  the  Moon,  O  yonder  is  the  Moon 

Newly  com  after  me  to  Town, 
That  shin'd  at  Lugwardin  but  yesternight^ 
Where  I  enjoy'd  the  self-same  Light. 

THOMAS   TRAHERNE 

On  Leaping  over  the  Moon  :  Poems  of  Felicity 

(?  1656-66) 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  MOON 

For  this  man  affirmeth  that  the  thing,  which  we  call  the 
face  in  the  Moone,  are  the  images  and  figures  of  the  great 
ocean,  represented  in  the  Moone  as  in  a  mirrour.  .  .  . 

362 


And  the  full  Moone  her  selfe  is,  for  evennesse,  smooth- 
nesse,  and  lustre,  the  most  beautifull  and  purest  mirrour 
in  the  world.  .  .  . 

The  figure  of  the  Ocean 

is  just  resembled  here 

In  flaming  mirrour,  when  great  waves 

it  doth  against  it  reare.  .  .  . 

As  to  that  dull  and  slowe  course  of  hers,  that  weake  and 
feeble  heat.  .  .  .  unto  what  shall  we  attribute  the  same,  if 
not  to  her  imbecilitie,  in  case  an  eternall  and  heavenly 
body  can  be  subject  unto  any  such  passion. 

PLUTARCH 

Morals  :  Of  the  Face  appearing  in  the  Roundle  of  the 

Moone 
Trans.  Philemon  Holland  (1603) 


STRANGE  EFFECT  ON  WOMEN 

In  Yorkeshire  the  country  woemen  doe  still  Jiailst  the 
new  mewne,  .  .  .  they  kneel  with  their  bare  knees  on  a 
grownd-fast  stene  and  say  all  haile  etc.  The  moon  hath  a 
greater  influence  on  woemen  than  on  men. 

JOHN   AUBREY 

Remaines  of  Gentilisme  andjudaisme  (1687) 


363 


MAKING  A  FUSS 


A  LADY  RISES 

LADY  :  Hoe  !  who  is  in  the  inner  Chamber  ?  how  now, 
Maidens,  heere  you  not  ?  are  you  deafe  ? 
PRUDENCE  :  I  am  heere  Madam. 

LADY  :  Why  do  you  suffer  me  to  sleepe  so  long  ?  I  am 
ashamed  of  myself  truely. 

PRUDENCE  :  I  came  heather  soft  and  faire,  once  or  twice, 
to  see  if  you  were  awaked,  and  seeing  you  a  sleepe  I  durst 
not  awake  you,  but  it  is  not  so  late  as  you  thinkc. 
LADY  :  What  is  it  a  clocke  ? 
PRUDENCE  :  It  is  but  halfe  an  houre  past  seaven. 
LADY  :  What  is  it  so  farre  day  ?  Oh  God  !  I  went  to  bed 
yesternight  so  timely,  thinking  to  rise  this  morning,  at 
the  farthest  at  6  a  clock  :  now  I  verifie  in  me  the  grave 
speeches  of  that  great  Philosopher,  the  Emperor  Marc. 
Aur.  speaking  of  the  unsatiableness  of  mankinde,  when 
he  said  (among  other  things)  the  more  I  sleep,  the  more 
I  would  sleep.  Go  too  go  too,  draw  the  windowe  Cur- 
taines  :  call  my  page,  let  him  bring  some  wood  to  my 
Chamber  doore,  make  a  fier  quickly,  that  I  may  rise  .  .  . 
LADY  :  God !  how  long  you  make  me  tarrye !  Kindle  the  fire 

364 


quickly,  warme  my  smocke  and  give  it  to  me.  Where  is 
Joly  ?  Call  her  : 

PRUDENCE  :  She  commeth  Madame.  Mistress  Jolye,  My 
Ladye  calleth  you  in  great  hast :  .  .  . 
LADY  :  Will  you  keepe  me  heere  all  the  day  ?  Where  be 
all  my  thinges  ?  Goe  fetch  my  cloathes  :  bring  my  petty- 
coate  bodyes  :  I  meane  my  damask  quilt  bodies  with 
whale  bones,  what  lace  doe  you  give  me  heere  ?  this  lace 
is  too  shorte,  the  tagges  are  broken,  I  cannot  lace  myselfe 
with  it,  take  it  away,  I  will  have  that  of  greene  silke  :  when 
shall  I  have  my  undercoate  ?  Give  me  my  peticoate  of 
wroughte  Crimson  velvet  with  silver  fringe  :  why  doe  you 
not  give  me  my  nightgowne  ?  For  I  take  colde  :  where  be 
my  stockens  ?  Give  me  some  cleane  sockes,  I  will  have  no 
woorsted  hosen,  showe  me  my  Carnation  silk  stockins  : 
where  laid  you  last  night  my  gaiters  ?  Take  away  these 
slippers,  give  me  my  velvet  pantofles  ;  send  for  the  shoo- 
maker  that  he  may  have  again  these  turn-over  shooes,  for 
they  be  too  high.  Put  on  my  white  pumpes  ;  set  them  up 
I  will  have  none  of  them  :  Give  me  rather  my  Spanish 
leather  shooes,  for  I  will  walke  to-day,  .  .  .  Tye  the  strings 
with  a  strong  double  knot,  for  feare  they  untye  them- 
selves :  Jolye,  come  dresse  my  head,  set  the  Table  further 
from  the  fire,  it  is  too  neere.  Put  my  chayre  in  his  place. 
Why  doe  you  not  set  my  great  looking  glasse  on  the  table  ? 
It  is  too  high,  set  the  supporter  lower.  Undoe  my  night 
attire  :  Why  doe  you  not  call  the  Page  to  warme  the 
rubbers  ?  let  him  be  called  :  heere  sirra  warme  that,  and 
take  heede  you  burne  it  not.  I  praye  you  Jolye  rubbe  well 
my  head,  for  it  is  very  full  of  dandrife,  are  not  my  combes 
in  the  case  ?  Combe  me  with  the  boxen  combe  :  Give  me 
first  my  combing  cloth,  otherwise  you  will  fill  me  full  of 
haires,  the  haires  will  fall  upon  my  cloathes,  Combe 

365 


backeward,  O  God !  you  combe  too  harde,  you  scratch 
me,  you  pull  out  my  hayres,  can  you  not  untangle  them 
softly  with  your  handes  before  you  put  the  combe  to  it  ? 
JOLYE  :  Will  it  please  you  to  rise  up  a  little  Madame  ?  For 
your  haires  are  so  long,  that  they  trayle  on  the  ground. 
LADY  :  My  daughter  Fleurimonde  is  like  me  in  that,  hath 
she  not  fayre  haires,  what  say  you  of  it  ? 
JOLYE  :  Truly  Madame  she  hath  the  fayrest,  the  longest 
flaxen-couler  haires  that  one  can  see,  there  needeth  no 
curling  of  them,  for  they  are  curled  of  themselves.  In 
truth  she  hath  the  fayrest  head  of  haires  that  ever  I  sawe. 
LADY  :  I  like  her  the  better  for  it,  it  is  a  thing  verye  comely 
for  a  woman,  and  as  Saint  Paul  saith,  It  is  an  Ornament 
unto  her,  but  whilst  we  prattle,  we  forget  that  the  time 
goeth  away  :  go  too,  I  am  combed  enough.  Page  take  the 
combe-brushes,  and  make  cleane  my  combes,  take  heed 
you  doe  not  make  them  cleane  with  those  that  I  use  to 
my  head  :  take  a  quill  to  take  away  the  filth  from  them, 
and  then  put  them  in  the  case,  that  none  be  missing  :  go 
too,  make  an  end  of  dressing  my  head. 
JOLYE  :  What  doth  it  please  you  to  weare  to-day  Ma- 
dame ?  Will  it  please  you  to  weare  your  haires  onely,  or 
els  to  have  your  French  whood  ?  .  .  . 
LADY  :  Set  up  then  my  French  whood  and  my  Border  of 
Rubies,  give  me  an  other  head  attyre  :  take  the  key  of  my 
closet,  and  goe  fetch  my  long  boxe  where  I  set  my  Jewels 
(for  to  have  them  out)  that  I  use  to  weare  on  my  head, 
what  is  become  of  my  wyer  ?  Where  is  the  haire-cap  ? 
Have  you  any  ribans  to  make  knots  ?  Where  be  the  laces 
for  to  bind  my  haires  ?  Go  too  Page,  give  me  some  water 
to  wash,  where's  my  muske  ball  ?  Give  me  rather  my 
paste  of  Almonds,  for  it  scoureth  better :  where  is  my 

366 


piece  of  Scarlet  to  wipe  my  face  ?  Give  me  that  napkin  : 
now  set  on  my  Carkenet  of  precious  stones  :  call  my 
Taylor  to  bring  my  gowne,  not  the  close  one,  but  my 
open  gowne  of  white  Sattin  layd  on  with  buttons  of 
Pearle.  Prudence,  give  me  my  bracelets  of  Aggathes  : 
Shall  I  have  no  vardingale  ?  You  remember  nothing,  you 
have  a  Coneyes  memorye,  you  lose  it  in  running,  go  too 
you  head-braine  fellowe,  Page  hear  you  ?  You  doe  but 
playe  the  foole,  doe  you  not  see  that  I  want  my  buske  ? 
what  is  become  of  the  buske-poyne  ? 
JOLYE  :  What  dooth  it  please  you  to  have  Madame,  a  ruffe 
band  or  a  Rebato  ? 

LADY  :  Let  me  see  that  ruffe,  How  is  it  that  the  supporter 
is  so  soyled  ?  I  knowe  not  for  what  you  are  fit,  that  you 
cannot  so  much  as  to  keep  my  cloathes  cleane  :  I  beleeve 
that  the  meanest  woman  in  this  towne,  hath  her  apparel 
in  better  order  then  I  have :  take  it  away  give  me  my 
Rebato  of  cut-worke  edged,  is  not  the  wyer  after  the  same 
sorte  as  the  other  ?  It  is  a  great  wonder  if  it  be  any  thing 
better,  Me  think  it  is  now  time  that  you  should  know 
how  to  serve.  Is  there  no  small  pinnes  for  my  Cuffes  ? 
Looke  in  the  pinne-cushen.  Pinne  that  with  a  blacke  pinne, 
give  me  my  girdle  and  see  that  all  the  furniture  be  at  it : 
looke  if  my  Cizers,  the  pincers,  the  pen-knife,  the  knife 
to  close  Letters,  with  the  bodkin,  the  ear-picker,  and  my 
Scale  be  in  the  case  :  where  is  my  pursse  to  weare  upon 
my  gowne  ?  And  see  that  my  silver  Comfet  box  be  full 
of  Comfets  :  have  I  a  cleane  handkercher  ?  I  will  have  no 
Muffe,  for  it  is  not  colde,  but  shall  I  have  no  gloves  ? 
Bring  my  maske  and  my  fanne.  Help  me  to  put  on  my 
Chayne  of  pearles.  Page  come  hether,  goe  to  my  Ladye 
of  Beau-Sejour,  have  me  most  humblye  commended  unto 
her,  and  tell  her  that  if  she  have  not  greater  busines,  if  it 

367 


pleaseth  her  to  take  the  paines  to  come  and  dyne  with  us, 
and  bring  with  her,  her  sister,  Mistresse  Du-Pont-Gailliard, 
they  shall  be  most  hartilie  welcome,  and  whome  so  ever 
it  shall  please  them  to  bring  with  them,  and  we  will  do 
something  this  afternoone  for  to  recreate  us  and  passe  the 
time :  goe  your  wayes,  bring  me  an  answer  forthwith  : 
and  you  Prudence  set  up  all  my  night-geare,  put  them  in 
the  cushen  cloath,  dresse  my  chamber,  and  then  goe  aske 
Mistresse  Clemence  (my  Daughters  Mistresse)  if  they  be 
readye  ?  Bid  her  bring  with  her  to  me  in  the  galleris, 
Fleurimonde  and  Chariot  with  their  worke.  Jolye  come  with 
me,  carye  with  you  my  prayer-booke  and  my  Psalter,  first 
goe  to  the  boyes  chamber,  see  if  they  be  readie  :  come 
againe  by  and  by,  to  the  end  that  I  be  not  alone,  you  shall 
finde  me  in  the  gallerie.  PIERRE  ERONDELL 

The  French  Garden  (1605) 


MAKING  MERRY 


DRINK  AND  BE  MERRY 

Let  us  drink  and  be  merry,  dance.  Joke  and  Rejoice., 
With  Claret  and  Sherry,  Theorbo  and  Voice, 
The  changeable  World  to  our  Joy  is  unjust, 
All  Treasure  uncertain,  then  down  with  your  dust. 
In  Frollicks  dispose  your  pounds,  shillings,  and  pence, 
For  we  shall  be  nothing  a  hundred  year  hence. 
368 


Wee'l  kiss  and  be  free  with  Nan,  Betty  and  Philly, 
Have  Oysters,  and  Lobsters,  to  cure  M aids  Belly ; 
Fish-Dinners  will  make  a  Lass  spring  like  a  Flea, 
Dame  Venus  (Love's  Godess)  was  born  of  the  sea. 
With  her  and  with  Bacchus  wee'll  tickle  the  sense, 
For  we  shall  be  past  it  a  hundred  year  hence. 

THOMAS  JORDAN 

The  Epicure.  Sung  by  one  in  the  habits  of  a  Town 

Gallant  (1675) 


AT  VAUXHALL 

But  Lord  !  to  see  how  my  nature  could  not  refrain  from 
the  temptation ;  but  I  must  invite  them  to  Foxhall,  to 
Spring  Gardens,  though  I  had  freshly  received  minutes 
of  a  great  deal  of  extraordinary  business.  However,  I 
could  not  help  it.  ...  So  here  I  spent  2os.  upon  them, 
and  were  pretty  merry.  Among  other  things,  had  a  fellow 
that  imitated  all  manner  of  birds,  and  dogs,  and  hogs,  with 
his  voice,  which  was  mighty  pleasant.  Staid  here  till  night. 

SAMUEL  PEPYS 

Diary  (May  29,  1666) 


IN  THE  WINE-CELLAR 

His  chaplain,  Dr  Lushington,  was  a  very  learned  and  in- 
geniose  man,  and  they  loved  one  another.  The  bishop  some- 
times would  take  the  key  of  the  wine-cellar,  and  he  and  his 
chaplaine  would  goe  and  lock  themselves  in  and  be  merry. 

369 


Then  first  he  layes  downe  his  episcopal!  hat3 — "  There 
lyes  the  Dr."  Then  he  putts  of  his  gowne, — "  There  lyes 
the  Bishop."  Then  'twas,—"  Here's  to  thee,  Corbet,"  and 
"  Here's  to  thee,  Lushington."  JOHN  AUBREY 

Brief  Lives  :  Richard  Corbet  (c.  1680) 


AT  OXFORD 

Allsouls  day,  soldiers  and  trumpeters  with  Leopold  Finch, 
warden  of  Allsouls,  in  the  dining  roome  next  to  the  street 
all  the  afternoon  till  about  9  at  night,  drinking  healths 
and  every  health  they  sounded — the  English  church  then 
languishing.  What !  Are  the  Oxonian  scholars  mad  ?  to 
revel  it ;  drink  and  eat ;  frequent  taverns,  alehouses,  coffee- 
houses ;  be  debonare — when  the  church  layes  languishing. 

ANTHONY  WOOD,  Life  and  Times  (Nov.  2,  1679) 


AT  BRIGHTHELMSTONE 

At  Brighthelmstone  ...  in  the  year  1808,  Hobhouse, 
Scrope  Davies,  Major  Cooper  and  myself,  having  dined 
together  with  Lord  Delvin,  Count  (I  forget  the  french 
Emigrant  nomenclature)  and  others,  did  about  the  middle 
of  the  night  (we  four)  proceed  to  a  house  of  Gambling, 
being  then  amongst  us  possest  of  about  twenty  guineas 
of  ready  cash.  .  .  .  We  lost  them,  returning  home  in  bad 
humour.  Cooper  went  home,  Scrope  and  Hobhouse  and  I 
(it  being  high  Summer)  did  firstly  strip  and  plunge  into 
the  sea,  whence  after  half  an  hour's  swimming  ...  we 

370 


emerged  in  our  dressing-gowns  to  discuss  a  bottle  or  two 
of  Champaigne  and  Hock  (according  to  choice)  at  our 
quarters.  In  course  of  this  discussion,  words  arose  ; 
Scrope  seized  H.  by  the  throat ;  H.  seized  a  knife  in  self- 
defence,  and  stabbed  Scrope  in  the  shoulder  to  avoid  being 
throttled.  Scrope  fell  bathed  in  blood  and  wine — for  the 
bottle  fell  with  him — being  infinitely  intoxicated  with 
Gaming,  Sea-bathing  at  two  in  the  morning,  and  Supple- 
mentary Champaigne.  ...  At  length,  with  many  oaths  and 
some  difficulty,  he  was  gotten  to  bed. 

LORD  BYRON,  Detached  Thoughts  (1821-2) 


MAY-GAMES 

SPUDEUS  :  But  what  ?  Be  there  any  abuses  in  their  Maie- 
games  like  unto  these  : 

PHILOPONUS  :  As  many  as  in  the  other.  The  order  of  them 
is  thus  :  Against  Maie,  Whitsondaie,  or  some  other  tyme 
of  the  yeare,  every  Parishe,  Towne,  and  Village,  assemble 
themselves  together,  bothe  men,  women,  and  children, 
olde  and  yong,  even  all  indifferently ;  and  either  goyng 
all  together,  or  devidyng  themselves  into  companies,  they 
goe  some  to  the  woodes  and  groves,  some  to  the  hilles 
and  Mountaines,  some  to  one  place,  some  to  an  other, 
where  they  spende  all  the  night  in  pleasant  pastymes,  and 
in  the  mornyng  they  returne,  bringing  with  them  Birch, 
Bowes,  and  braunches  of  Trees,  to  deck  their  assemblies 
withall :  And  no  marvaile,  for  there  is  a  great  lord  present 
amongst  them,  as  superintendent  and  Lorde  over  their 
pastymes  and  sportes  :  namely,  Sathan,  Prince  of  Hell. 
But  their  cheefest  Jewell  they  bring  from  thence  is  their 

371 


Male  poole,  which  they  bring  home  with  greate  venera- 
tion, as  thus  :  They  have  twentie  or  fourtie  yoke  of  Oxen, 
every  Oxe  havyng  a  sweete  Nosegaie  of  flowers  tyed  on  the 
tippe  of  his  homes,  and  these  Oxen  drawe  home  this  Maie 
poole  (this  stinckyng  Idoll  rather),  which  is  covered  all 
over  with  Flowers  and  Hearbes,  bounde  rounde  aboute 
with  stringes,  from  the  top  to  the  bottome,  and  some- 
tyme  painted  with  variable  colours,  with  twoo  or  three 
hundred  men,  women,  and  children  followyng  it,  with 
greate  devotion.  And  thus  beyng  reared  up,  with  hand- 
kercheifes  and  flagges  streamyng  on  the  toppe,  they  strawe 
the  grounde  aboute,  binde  greene  boughes  about  it,  sett 
up  Sommer  Haules,  Bowers,  and  Arbours  hard  by  it;  and 
then  fall  they  to  banquet  and  feast,  to  leape  and  daunce 
aboute  it,  as  the  Heathen  people  did  at  the  dedication  of 
their  Idolles,  whereof  this  is  a  perfect  patterne,  or  rather 
the  thyng  it  self.  .  .  . 

Assuredly,  I  thinke  neither  Jewes  nor  Turkes,  Sarasins, 
nor  Pagans,  nor  any  other  people,  how  wicked  or 
barbarous  soever,  have  ever  used  such  devilish  exercises 
as  these ;  naie,  they  would  have  been  ashamed,  once  to 
have  named  them,  muche  lesse  to  have  used  them :  yet  wee 
that  would  bee  Christians  thinke  them  not  amisse.  The 
Lorde  forgive  us,  and  remove  them  from  us  ! 

PHILIP   STUBBES 

The  Anatomic  of  Abuses  (1583) 


AUGUST 

It  is  now  August  .  .  .  now  beginne  the  Gleaners  to  follow 
the  Corne  Cart,  and  a  little  bread  to  a  great  deale  of 

372 


drinke  makes  the  Travailers  dinner  :  the  Melowne  and  the 
Cucumber  is  now  in  request :  and  Oyle  and  vinegar  give 
attendance  on  the  Sallet  hearbes  :  the  Alehouse  is  more 
frequented  then  the  Taverne  .  .  .  and  in  the  fayre  Rivers, 
swimming  is  a  sweet  exercise :  the  Bow  and  the  Bowie  pick 
many  a  purse,  and  the  Cockes  with  their  heeles  spume  away 
many  a  mans  wealth  :  The  Pipe  and  the  Taber  is  now  lus- 
tily at  worke,  and  the  Lad  and  the  Lasse  will  have  no  lead 
on  their  heeles  :  the  new  Wheat  makes  the  Gossips  Cake, 
and  the  Bride  Cup  is  carried  above  the  heads  of  the  whole 
Parish  :  the  Furmenty  pot  welcomes  home  the  Harvest 
Cart,  and  the  Garland  of  flowers  crownes  the  Captaine  of 
the  Reapers.  Oh,  tis  the  merry  time,  wherein  honest 
Neighbours  make  good  cheere,  and  God  is  glorified  in  his 
blessings  on  the  earth.  In  summe,  for  that  I  find,  I  thus 
conclude,  I  hold  it  the  worlds  welfare,  and  the  earths 
warming-pan. 

NICHOLAS  BRETON 

Fantasticks  (1626) 


HARVEST  HOME 


Come  Sons  of  Summer,  by  whose  toile, 
We  are  the  Lords  of  Wine  and  Oile  : 
By  whose  tough  labours,  and  rough  hands, 
We  rip  up  first,  then  reap  our  lands. 
Crown'd  with  the  eares  of  come,  now  come. 
And,  to  the  Pipe,  sing  Harvest  home ; 
Come  forth,  my  lord,  and  see  the  Cart 
Drest  up  with  all  the  Country  Art  ,  .  . 

373 


The  Horses,  Mares,  and  frisking  Fillies, 

(Clad,  all,  in  Linnen,  white  as  Lillies) 

The  Harvest  Swaines,  and  Wenches  bound 

For  joy,  to  see  the  Hock-cart  crown'd. 

About  the  Cart,  heare,  how  the  Rout 

Of  Rurall  Younglings  raise  the  shout ; 

Pressing  before,  some  coming  after, 

Those  with  a  shout,  and  these  with  laughter. 

Some  blesse  the  Cart ;  some  kisse  the  sheaves  ; 

Some  prank  them  up  with  Oaken  leaves 

Well,  on,  brave  boyes,  to  your  Lords  Hearth, 

Glitt'ring  with  fire  ;  where,  for  your  mirth, 

Ye  shall  see  first  the  large  and  cheefe 

Foundation  of  your  Feast,  Fat  Beefe  :  .  .  . 

With  Sev'rall  dishes  standing  by, 

As  here  a  Custard,  there  a  Pie, 

And  here  all  tempting  Frumentie. 

And  for  to  make  the  merry  cheere, 

If  smirking  Wine  be  wanting  here, 

There's    that,    which    drowns    all    care,    stout 

Beere 

To  the  rough  Sickle,  and  crookt  Sythe, 
Drink  frollick  boyes,  till  all  be  blythe.  .  .  . 
And,  you  must  know,  your  Lords  word's  true, 
Feed  him  ye  must,  whose  food  fils  you, 
And  that  this  pleasure  is  like  raine, 
Not  sent  ye  for  to  drowne  your  paine, 
But  for  to  make  it  spring  againe. 

ROBERT   HERRICK 

The  Hock-Cart,  or  Harvest  Home.  Hesperides  (1648) 


374 


MALE  PLEASURES 


RUNNING  AND  RAMBLING 

GATTY  :  How  I  envy  that  Sex  !  well !  we  cannot  plague 
'em  enough  when  we  have  it  in  our  power  for  those 
privileges  which  custom  has  allow'd  'em  above  us. 
ARIANA  :  The  truth  is,  they  can  run  and  ramble  here,  and 
there,  and  every  where,  and  we  poor  Fools  rather  think 
the  better  of  'em. 

GATTY  :  From  one  Play-house  to  the  other  Play-house, 
and  if  they  like  neither  the  Play  nor  the  Women,  they  seldom 
stay  any  longer  than  the  combing  of  their  Perriwigs,  or  a 
whisper  or  two  with  a  Friend  ;  and  then  they  cock  their 
Caps,  and  out  they  strut  again.  SIR  GEORGE  ETHEREGE 

She  wou'd  if  she  cou'd  (1668) 


FEMALES 

Women,  while  untainted  by  affectation,  have  a  natural 
cheerfulness  of  mind,  tenderness,  and  benignity  of  heart, 
which  justly  endears  them  to  us,  either  to  animate  our 
joys,  or  soothe  our  sorrows.  LORD  CHESTERFIELD 

On  Female  Coxcombs  (1737) 
375 


The  spontaneous  grace,  the  melting  voice,  and  the  sooth- 
ing looks  of  a  female. 

ISAAC  DISRAELI,  Curiosities  of  Literature  (1791-1823) 


BUSY  WIVES 

They  have  all  many  wives,  and  the  Lordes  five  fold  to  the 
common  sort :  their  wives  never  eate  with  their  husbands, 
nor  among  the  men,  but  serve  their  husbandes  at  meales, 
and  after  war  des  feede  by  themselves.  Those  that  are  past 
their  yonger  yeares,  make  all  their  breade  and  drinke,  and 
worke  their  cotton  beddes,  and  doe  all  else  of  service  and 
labour,  for  the  men  doe  nothing  but  hunte,  fish,  play  and 
drinke,  when  they  are  out  of  the  wars. 

SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH,  The  Discoverie  of  Guiana  (1596) 


The  Women  of  the  Land  of  Jesso,  who  spend  all  their 
time  in  dressing  their  Husbands  Dinners  and  Suppers,  and 
painting  their  Lips  and  Eye-brows  blue,  only  to  please  the 
greatest  Villains  in  the  World. 

B.  DE  FONTENELLE,  A  Plurality  of  Worlds  (1686) 
Trans.  John  Glanvill  (1688) 


HOUNDS 

He  makes  mortal  War  with  the  Fox  for  committing  Acts 
of  Hostility  against  his  Poultry.  He  is  very  solicitous  to 

376 


have  his  Dogs  well  descended  of  worshipfull  Families,  and 
understands  their  Pedigree  as  learnedly  as  if  he  were  a 
Herald. ...  He  is  both  Cook  and  Physician  to  his  Hounds. 
.  .  .  Nor  is  he  less  skilfull  in  Physiognomy,  and  from  the 
Aspects  of  their  Faces,  Shape  of  their  Snouts,  falling  of 
their  Ears  and  Lips,  and  Make  of  their  Barrells,  will  give  a 
shrewd  Guess  at  their  Inclinations,  Partes,  and  Abilities, 
and  what  Parents  they  are  lineally  descended  from.  .  .  . 
He  believes  no  Musick  in  the  World  is  comparable  to 
a  Chorus  of  their  Voices,  and  that  when  they  are  well 
match'd  they  will  hunt  their  Partes  as  true  at  first  Scent, 
as  the  best  Singers  of  Catches,  that  ever  open'd  in  a 
Tavern,  that  they  understand  the  Scale  as  well  as  the  best 
Scholler  .  .  .  and  that  when  he  windes  his  Horn  to  them, 
'tis  the  very  same  thing  with  a  Cornet  in  a  quire.  .  .  . 
Let  the  Hare  take  which  Way  she  will,  she  selldom  fails 
to  lead  him  at  long  running  to  the  Alehouse,  where  he 
meets  with  an  Aftergame  of  Delight,  in  making  up  a 
Narrative,  how  every  Dog  behav'd  himself;  which  is 
never  done  without  long  Dispute  .  .  .  and  if  there  be 
any  Thing  remarkable,  to  his  Thinking,  in  it,  he  preserves 
it  to  please  himself,  and,  as  he  believes,  all  People  els  with, 
during  his  naturall  Life,  and  after  leaves  it  to  his  Heirs 
Male  entail'd  upon  the  Family,  with  his  Bugle-Horn 
and  Seal-Ring.  SAMUEL  BUTLER 

Characters  :  A  Hunter  (1667-69) 


BAR  ROOM 

A  glimpse  through  an  interstice  caught 

Of  a  crowd  of  workmen  and  drivers  in  a  bar-room  around 

377 


the  stove  late  of  a  winter  night,  and  I  unremark'd  seated  in 
a  corner, 

Of  a  youth  who  loves  me  and  whom  I  love,  silently  ap- 
proaching and  seating  himself  near,  that  he  may  hold  me  by 
the  hand, 

A  long  while  amid  the  noises  of  coining  and  going,  of 
drinking  and  oath  and  smutty  jest, 
There  we  two  content,  happy  in  being  together,  speaking 
little,  perhaps  not  a  word.  WALT  WHITMAN 

A  Glimpse  (1855) 


STAG-PARTIES 

He-festivals,  with  blackguard  gibes,  ironical  license,  bull- 
dances,  drinking,  laughter.  WALT  WHITMAN 

Song  of  Myself  (1*55) 


AT  THE  DRAGON  AND  THE  LION 

Thence  we  went  to  the  Green  Dragon,  on  Lambeth  Hill 
.  .  .  and  there  we  sang  of  all  sorts  of  things  .  .  .  and  after 
that  I  played  on  my  flageolet,  and  staid  there  till  nine 
o'clock,  very  merry  and  drawn  on  with  one  song  after 
another  till  it  came  to  be  so  late.  After  that  Sheply,  Har- 
rison and  myself,  we  went  towards  Westminster  on  foot, 
and  at  the  Golden  Lion,  near  Charing  Cross,  we  went  in 
and  drank  a  pint  of  wine,  and  so  parted,  and  thence  home, 
where  I  found  my  wife  and  maid  a-washing.  I  staid  up  till 
the  bell-man  came  by  with  his  bell  just  under  my  window 

378 


as  I  was  writing  of  this  very  line,  and  cried,  "  Past  one  of 
the  clock,  and  a  cold,  frosty,  windy  morning."  I  then  went 
to  bed,  and  left  my  wife  and  the  maid  a-washing  still. 

SAMUEL  PEPYS,  Diary  (Jan.  16,  1660) 


A  POST-CHAISE  WITH  A  PRETTY  WOMAN 

In  our  way,  Johnson  strongly  expressed  his  love  of 
driving  fast  in  a  post-chaise.  "  If  [said  he]  I  had  no  duties, 
and  no  reference  to  futurity,  I  would  spend  my  life  in 
driving  briskly  in  a  post-chaise  with  a  pretty  woman ; 
but  she  should  be  one  who  could  understand  me,  and 
would  add  something  to  the  conversation." 

JAMES  BOS  WELL,  Life  of  Johnson  (1791) 


A  TAVERN  WITH  A  WELL-DRESSED  ONE 

A  well-dressed  man  may  lead  in  a  well-dressed  woman  to 
any  tavern  in  London.  j^-j 

ROUGHER  SPORTS 

Soft  Recreations  fit  the  Female-kind ; 
Nature,  for  Man,  has  rougher  Sports  design'd 
To  wield  the  Sword,  and  hurl  the  pointed  Spear  ; 
To  stop,  or  turn  the  Steed,  in  full  Career. 

OVID,  Art  of  Love  (c.  2  B.C.) 
Trans.  William  Congreve  (1709) 

379 


DAUGHTERS  OF  HANDSOME  WOMEN 

Madame, 

I  have  heard  .  .  .  that  you  are  safely  delivered  of  a 
daughter.  I  am  extreamly  glad  .  .  .  tHat  you  have  a  daugh- 
ter, for  my  opinion  hath  ever  bin  that  I  would  have  hand- 
some Woemen  have  none  but  daughters,  and  I  hope  you 
will  have  as  many  as  your  Mother  hath  had  and  will 
have.  .  .  . 

LORD   CONWAY 

Letter  to  Countess  of  Devonshire  (1640) 


MALICE 


BAITING  GIBBON 

You  will  be  diverted  to  hear  that  Mr  Gibbon  has  quar- 
relled with  me.  He  lent  me  his  second  volume  in  the 
middle  of  November.  I  returne  it  with  a  most  civil 
panegyric.  He  came  for  more  incense  ;  I  gave  it,  but  alas  ! 
with  too  much  sincerity ;  I  added,  "  Mr  Gibbon,  I  am 
sorry  you  should  have  pitched  on  so  disgusting  a  subject 
as  the  Constantinopolitan  History.  There  is  so  much  of 
the  Arians  and  Eunomians  and  semi-Pelagians  ;  and  there 
is  such  a  strange  contrast  between  Roman  and  Gothic 
manners,  and  so  little  harmony  between  a  Consul  Sabinus 
and  a  Ricimer,  Duke  of  the  Palace,  that,  though  you  have 

380 


written  the  story  as  well  as  it  could  be  written,  I  fear  few 
will  have  patience  to  read  it."  He  coloured  ;  all  his  round 
features  squeezed  themselves  into  sharp  angles ;  he 
screwed  up  his  button-mouth,  and  rapping  his  snuff-box, 
said,  "  It  had  never  been  put  together  before  " — so  welly 
he  meant  to  add — but  gulped  it.  He  meant  so  well, 
certainly,  for  Tillement,  whom  he  quotes  on  every  page, 
has  done  the  very  thing.  I  well  knew  his  vanity,  even  about 
his  ridiculous  face  and  person,  but  thought  he  had  too 
much  sense  to  avow  it  so  palpably. 

HORACE   WALPOLE 

Letter  to  William  Mason  (1781) 


LIBELLING  POETS 

For  the  libel  you  speak  of,  upon  that  most  unwitty 
Generation,  the  present  Poets,  I  rejoyce  in  it  with  all  my 
Heart,  and  shall  take  it  for  a  Favour  if  you  will  send  me 
a  copy.  He  cannot  want  Wit  utterly,  that  has  a  Spleen 
to  those  Rogues,  tho'  never  so  dully  express'd. 

JOHN  WILMOT,  Earl  of  Rochester 
Letter  to  Henry  Savile  (1678) 


RIDICULING  POETS 

Byron  always  became  gay  when  any  subject  afforded  him 
an  opportunity  of  ridiculing  poets ;  he  entered  into  it 
con  amove. 

LADY  BLESSINGTON 
Journal  of  Conversation  with  Lord  Byron  (1834) 

381 


POOR  FIELDING 

Poor  Fielding  !  I  could  not  help  telling  his  sister  that  I 
was  equally  surprised  at  and  concerned  for  his  continued 
lowness.  Had  your  brother,  said  I,  been  born  in  a  stable, 
or  been  a  runner  at  a  sponging-house,  we  should  have 
thought  him  a  genius,  and  wished  he  had  had  the  advan- 
tage of  a  liberal  education,  and  of  being  admitted  into 
good  company. 

SAMUEL  RICHARDSON 

Letter  to  Mrs  Balfour  (1754) 


ANNOYING  ENVIOUS  MEN 


Will.  Prosper  .  .  .  makes  it  his  business  to  join  in  Con- 
versation with  Envious  Men.  He  points  to  such  an  hand- 
som  Young  Fellow,  and  whispers  that  he  is  secretly  mar- 
ried to  a  Great  Fortune  :  When  they  doubt,  he  adds  Cir- 
cumstances to  prove  it ;  and  never  fails  to  aggravate  their 
Distress  by  assuring  'em  that  to  his  knowledge  he  has  an 
Uncle  will  leave  him  some  Thousands.  Will,  has  many 
Arts  of  this  kind  to  torture  this  sort  of  Temper,  and  de- 
lights in  it.  When  he  finds  them  change  colour,  and  say 
faintly  They  wish  such  a  Piece  of  News  is  true,  he  has  the 
Malice  to  speak,  some  good  or  other  of  every  Man  of 
their  Acquaintance. 

The  Reliefs  of  the  Envious  Man  are  those  little  Blem- 
ishes and  Imperfections,  that  discover  themselves  in  an 
Illustrious  Character.  It  is  matter  of  great  Consolation  to 
an  Envious  Person,  when  a  Man  of  Known  Honour  does 

382 


a  thing  Unworthy  himself: You  see  an  Envious 

Man  clear  up  his  Countenance,  if  in  the  Relation  of  any 
Man's  Great  Happiness  in  one  Point,  you  mention  his 
Uneasiness  in  another.  When  he  hears  such  a  one  is  very 
rich  he  turns  Pale,  but  recovers  when  you  add  that  he  has 
many  Children. 

RICHARD   STEELE 

Spectator  (1711) 
t  CHARMED  WITH  SCANDAL 

To  your  Business  hereafter,  but  first  lets  have  a  Dance, 
as  Mr  Bays  says  ...  I  found  your  three  Letters  full  of 
Wit  and  Humour.  I  was  charm'd  with  the  scandal  you  writ 
in  the  first  and  enclosed  in  the  last,  viz.  A — 's  poem  .  .  . 
Certainly,  since  the  Devil  was  Dumb,  there  never  was 
such  a  Poet. 

WALTER   MOYLE 

Letter  to  John  Dennis  (1695) 


HATING  ONE'S  COLLEAGUES 

Grr —  there  go,  my  heart's  abhorrence ! 
Water  your  damned  flower-pots,  do ! 
If  hate  killed  men,  Brother  Lawrence, 
God's  blood,  would  not  mine  kill  you ! 
At  the  meal  we  sit  together : 
Salve  tibi !  I  must  hear 
Wise  talk  of  the  kind  of  weather, 
Sort  of  season,  time  of  year :  .  .  .  . 
383 


Whew !  We'll  have  our  platter  burnished, 

Laid  with  care  on  our  own  shelf ! 

With  a  fire-new  spoon  we're  furnished. 

And  a  goblet  for  ourself, 

Rinsed  like  something  sacrificial 

Ere  'tis  fit  to  touch  our  chaps — 

Marked  with  L.  for  our  initial ! 

(He,  he  !  There  his  lily  snaps  !)  .  .  . 

There's  a  great  text  in  Galatians, 
Once  you  trip  on  it,  entails 
Twenty-nine  distinct  damnations, 
One  sure,  if  another  fails, 
If  I  trip  him  just  a-dying, 
Sure  of  Heaven  as  sure  can  be, 
Spin  him  round  and  send  him  flying 
Off  to  Hell,  a  Manichee  ? 

ROBERT   BROWNING 
Soliloquy  of  the  Spanish  Cloister  (1842) 


SCORING  OFF  MAGICIANS 

Simon  Magus  .  .  .  having  challenged  St.  Peter  to  doe 
miracles  with  him,  attempted  to  fly  from  the  Capitoll  to 
the  Aventine  Hill.  But  when  he  was  in  the  midst  of  the 
way,  St.  Peters  prayers  did  overcome  his  sorceries,  and 
violently  bring  him  to  the  ground,  in  which  fall  having 
broke  his  thigh,  within  a  while  after  he  died. 

JOHN  WILKINS 

Mathematickall  Magick  (1648) 
384 


MARINE 


NEPTUNE'S  KINGDOM 

Neptune  sate  in  his  Chariot  High 

Drawn  by  Six  Hippopotami ;  .  .  . 

On  tunefull  Shells  the  Tritons  playd, 

The  Winds  and  Storms  to  sleep  were  laid. 
And  a  profound  Peace  o'r  the  Deep  was  spread. 
Mermaids  in  melting  streins  their  Voices  try'd, 

And  Sea-Nymphs  in  soft  Airs  reply'd  ; 
That  even  rude  Rocks  and  surly  Seas  took  in  the 
Musick  Pride. 

Mountainous  Whales  before  the  Court  were  sent, 

That  mov'd  all  Lets  out  of  the  way ; 
And,  where  the  Road  thro'  Creeks  or  Inlets  lay, 
Shuffled  up  Isles  into  a  Continent.  .  .  . 

Near  these  their  Place  did  take 
Sea-Elephants  that  on  the  Rocks  do  sleep, 

That  overlook  the  Deep ;  .  .  . 
The  Sea-Mors,  that's  kill'd  for  his  sovereign  Horn, 
And  thought  by  some  the  onely  Unicorn.  .  .  . 
The  Dolphin,  that  in  Musick  doth  delight, 
And  all  surpasses  in  a  speedy  flight.  .  .  . 
NP  385 


The  Remora,  the  Wonder  of  the  Sea, 

That  Ships  even  under  sail  can  stay  : 
Small  in  his  Bulk,  but  hoisting  round  their  Keels, 
No  Waves  or  Tydes  the  Captive  force  away  : 
Whom  Neptune  did  forbid  to  touch  his  Chariot- 
Wheels.  .  .  . 

Within  and  round  are  shown 
The  Tombs  of  the  Atlantian  Kings  : 

Which  of  themselves  are  Stately  things. 
But  by  accession  of  Sea-Treasure  Nobler  gown. 

Each  common  Stone 
A  Jaspis  or  a  Hyacinth  doth  grow  : 
Mother  of  Pearl  the  common  roads  doth  strow. 
And  ev'n  Plebean  Tombs  do  Sapphires  show. .  .  . 

A  Band  of  Tritons  upon  Neptune  wait, 

And  guard  his  Palace  Gate, 
And  yet  keep  up  the  old  Atlantian  State. 

The  Castles  and  the  Towns  remain, 
The  Citties  yet  their  Privileges  retain  : 
Tritons  do  in  the  Nobles  Houses  stay, 
And  Sea-Nymphs  in  the   Groves  and  Meadows 
play 

Hence  Curiosity  me  led 

To  view  the  Neighbouring  Sea  : 

Where  'tis  with  Green  Sargossa  spread. 

And  imitates  a  Flowry  Mead  ; 
Doth  the  unwearied  Eye  to  rove  invite, 
And  every  where  gives  Prospects  of  Delight : 
Under  whose  Shade  the  harmless  Fry, 

No  Fear  nor  Danger  nigh, 

Their  Innocent  Revels  keep, 

And  deck  with  sparkling  Pearly  scales  the  Deep 

386 


Nor  could  I  miss  Cape  Comori, 
Where  mounts  of  Fruitfull  Shell-fish  ly, 
That  Orient  Pearls  do  in  their  womb  contain. 
Where  the  bold  Indian  jumps  into  the  Main, 
Doth  down  into  the  Shining  Bottom  Dive, 
That  needs  no   Light,  but  what  the  Pearls  do 

•  '  •  THOMAS   HEYRICK 

The  Submarine  Voyage  (1691) 


THE  MUSICAL  AND  AFFECTIONATE  DOLPHIN 

The  swiftest  of  al  other  living  creatures  whatsoever,  and 
not  of  sea-fish  only,  is  the  Dolphin,  quicker  than  the 
flying  fowle,  swifter  than  the  arrow  shot  out  of  a  bow.  .  .  . 
The  Dolphin  is  a  creature  that  carries  a  loving  affection 
not  only  unto  man,  but  also  to  musicke  :  delighted  he  is 
with  harmony  in  song,  but  especially  with  the  sound  of 
the  water  instrument,  or  such  kind  of  pipes.  Of  a  man  he  is 
nothing  aifraid,  neither  avoides  from  him  as  a  stranger  : 
but  of  himsclfe  meeteth  their  ships,  plaieth  and  disportes 
himselfe,  and  fetcheth  a  thousand  friskes  and  gamboles 
before  them.  He  will  swim  along  by  the  mariners,  as  it 
were  for  a  wager,  who  should  make  way  most  speedily, 
and  alwaies  outgoeth  them,  saile  they  with  never  so  good 
a  fore- wind. 

In  the  daies  of  Augustus  Ceasar  the  Emperour,  there  was 
a  Dolphin  entred  the  gulfe  or  poole  Lucrinus,  which 
loved  wondrous  well  a  certain  boy  a  poore  mans  son  ;  who 
using  to  goe  every  day  to  schoole  from  Baianum  to 
Puteoli,  was  woont  also  about  noone-tide  to  stay  at  the 
water  side,  and  to  call  unto  the  Dolphin,  Simo,  Simo,  and 

387 


many  times  would  give  him  fragements  of  bread,  which  of 
purpose  he  ever  brought  with  him,  and  by  this  meanes 
allured  the  Dolphin  to  come  ordinarily  unto  him  at  his  call. 
(I  would  make  scruple  and  bash  to  insert  this  tale  in  my 
storie  and  to  tell  it  out,  but  that  Mecenas  Fabianus,  Flavins 
Alfius,  and  many  others  have  set  it  downe  for  a  truth  in 
their  chronicles.)  Well  in  processe  of  time,  at  what  houre 
soever  of  the  day  this  boy  lured  for  him  and  called  Simo, 
were  the  Dolphin  never  so  close  hidden  in  any  secret  or 
blind  corner,  out  he  would  and  come  abroad,  yea  and  skud 
amaine  to  this  lad  ;  and  taking  bread  and  other  victuals  at 
his  hand,  would  gently  offer  him  his  back  to  mount  upon, 
and  then  downe  went  the  sharp  pointed  prickles  of  his  fins, 
which  he  would  put  up  as  it  were  within  a  sheath  for  fear 
of  hurting  the  boy.  Thus  when  he  had  him  once  on  his 
back,  he  would  carry  him  over  the  broad  arme  of  the  sea 
as  farre  as  Puteoli  to  schoole  ;  and  in  like  manner  convey 
him  back  again  home  :  and  thus  he  continued  for  many 
yeeres  together,  so  long  as  the  child  live.  But  when  the 
boy  was  fallen  sicke  and  dead,  yet  the  Dolphin  gave  not 
over  his  haunt,  but  usually  came  to  the  wonted  place,  and 
missing  the  lad,  seemed  to  be  heavie  and  mourne  again, 
until  for  very  griefe  and  sorrow  (as  it  doubtles  to  be  pre- 
sumed) he  also  was  found  dead  upon  the  shore 

But  there  is  no  end  of  examples  in  this  kinde  :  for  the 
Amphilochians  and  Tarentines  testifie  as  much,  as  touch- 
ing Dolphins  which  have  bin  enamoored  of  little  boies  : 
which  induceth  me  the  rather  to  beleeve  the  tale  that  goes 
of  Arion.  This  Avion  being  a  notable  musitian  and  plaier 
of  the  harpe,  chanced  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  certain 
mariners  in  the  ship  where  he  was,  who  supposing  that  he 
had  good  store  of  money  about  him,  which  he  had  gotten 
with  his  instrument,  were  in  hand  to  kill  him  and  cast  him 

388 


over  boord  for  the  said  monie  ...  he,  seeing  himselfe  at 
their  devotion  and  mercie,  besought  them  in  the  best 
manner  that  he  could  devise  to  suffer  him  yet  before  he 
died,  to  play  one  fit  of  mirth  with  his  harpe  ;  which  they 
granted  :  (at  his  musicke  and  sound  of  harpe,  a  number 
of  Dolphins  came  flocking  about  him  :)  which  done,  they 
turne  him  over  shipbord  into  the  sea  ;  where  one  of  the 
Dolphins  tooke  him  upon  his  backe,  and  carried  him  safe 
to  the  bay  of  Taenarus.  PLINY  Tm  ELD£R 

Natural  History  (c.  77) 
Trans.  Philemon  Holland  (1601) 


TURTLE-SHELL  BOATS 

The  Tyrian  Merchant,  or  the  Portuguese, 
Can  hardly  build  one  Ship  of  many  Trees  : 
But  of  one  Tortoise^  when  he  list  to  float, 
Th5  Arabian  Fisher-man  can  make  a  boat. 

JOSHUA  SYLVESTER 

Divine  Weekes  and  Workes  (1592) 

Trans,  from  Guillaume  Du  Bartas 


SUBMARINE  PALACE 

As  large,  as  bright,  as  coloured  as  the  bow 
Of  Iris,  when  unfading  it  doth  show 
Beyond  a  silvery  shower,  was  the  arch 
Through  which  this  Pathian  army  took  its  march 
Into  the  outer  courts  of  Neptune's  state  : 
Whence  could  be  seen,  direct,  a  golden  gate.  .  . 
389 


Far  as  the  mariner  on  highest  mast 

Can  see  all  round  upon  the  calmed  vast 

So  wide  was  Neptune's  hall :  and  as  the  blue 

Doth  vault  the  waters,  so  the  waters  drew 

Their  doming  curtains,  high,  magnificent, 

Awed  from  the  throne  aloof; — and  when  storm-rent 

Disclosed  the  thunder-gloomings  in  Jove's  air ; 

But,  soothed  as  now,  flash'd  sudden  everywhere 

Noiseless  sub-marine  cloudlets,  glittering 

Death  to  a  human  eye  :  for  there  did  spring 

From  natural  west,  and  east,  and  south  and  north, 

A  light  as  of  four  sunsets,  blazing  forth 

A  gold-green  zenith  'bove  the  Sea-God's  head. 

Of  lucid  depth  the  floor,  and  far  outspread 

As  breezeless  lake,  on  which  the  slim  canoe 

Of  feather'd  Indian  darts  about,  as  through 

The  delicatest  air.  .  .  . 

They  stood  in  dreams 
Till  Triton  blew  his  horn.  The  palace  rang 
The  Nereids  danced  ;  the  Syrens  faintly  sang.  .  .  . 

JOHN  KEATS 

Endymion  (1818) 


THE  SEASON  OF  SAILING 

This  is  the  season  for  sailing.  For  already  the  twittering 
swallow  has  come,  and  the  pleasant  west  wind  ;  the  mead- 
ows are  in  flower,  and  the  sea,  broken  lately  by  waves  and 
the  rough  gale,  has  become  silent.  Take  up  the  anchors, 
sailor,  and  let  loose  the  ropes,  and  set  sail,  giving  out  the 

390 


whole  canvas.  This  I,  Priapus  of  the  harbour,  command, 
that  you,  O  man  may  set  sail  for  all  kinds  of  traffic. 

Leonidas  of  Tarentum  (3rd  cent.  B.C.) 
Trans.  George  Burges 


SATISFACTION  TO  SAILORS 

This  morning  the  King's  Proclamation  against  drinking, 
swearing,  and  debauchery,  was  read  to  our  ships'  compan- 
ies in  the  fleet,  and  indeed  it  gives  great  satisfaction  to  all. 
SAMUEL  PEPYS,  Diary  (June  4,  1660) 


MERMAIDS 

Then,  looking  on  the  waters,  I  was  ware 
Of  something  drifting  through  delighted  air, 
— An  isle  of  roses — and  another  near  ; — 
And  more,  on  each  hand,  thicken,  and  appear 
In  shoals  of  bloom ;  as  in  unpeopled  skies 
Save  by  two  stars,  more  crowding  lights  arise, 
And  planets  bud  where'er  we  turn  our  mazed  eyes. 
I  gaz'd  unhinder'd  :  Mermaids  six  or  seven, 
Ris'n  from  the  deeps  to  gaze  on  sun  and  heaven, 
Cluster'd  in  troops  and  halo'd  by  the  light, 
Those  Cyclads  made  that  thicken'd  on  my  sight — 

Soon — as  when  Summer  of  his  sister  Spring 
Crushes  and  tears  the  rare  enjewelling, 
And  boasting  "  I  have  fairer  things  than  these  " 
Plashes  amidst  the  billowy  apple-trees 
His  lusty  hands,  in  gusts  of  scented  wind 

391 


Swirling  out  bloom  till  all  the  air  is  blind 

With  rosy  foam  and  pelting  blossom  and  mists 

Of  driving  vermeil-rain  ;  and,  as  he  lists, 

The  dainty  onyx-coronals  deflowers, 

A  glorious  wanton  ; — all  the  wrecks  in  showers 

Crowd  down  upon  a  stream,  and  jostling  thick 

With  bubbles  bugle-eyed,  struggle  and  stick 

On  tangled  shoals  that  bar  the  brook — a  crowd 

Of  filmy  globes  and  rosy  floating  cloud  : 

So  those  Mermaidens  crowded  to  my  rock, 

And  thicken'd,  like  that  drifted  bloom,  the  flock 

Sun-flush'd,  until  it  seem'd  their  father  Sea 

Had  gotten  him  a  wreath  of  sweet  Spring-broidery. 

Careless  of  me  they  sported  :  some  would  plash 
The  languent  smooth  with  dimpling  drops,  and  flash 

Their  filmy  tails 

Some,  diving  merrily,  downward  drove,  and  gleam  Jd 
With  arm  and  fin  ;  the  argent  bubbles  stream 'd 
Airwards,  disturb'd  ;  and  the  scarce  troubled  sea 
Gurgled,  where  they  had  sunk,  melodiously. 
Others  with  fingers  white  would  comb  among 
The  drenched  hair  of  slabby  weeds  that  swung 
Swimming,  and  languish'd  green  upon  the  deep 
Down  that  dank  rock  o'er  which  their  lush  long 

tresses  weep. 

But  most  in  a  half-circle  watch  'd  the  sun  ; 
And  a  sweet  sadness  dwelt  on  everyone  ; 
I  knew  not  why, — but  know  that  sadness  dwells 
On  Mermaids,  whether  that  they  ring  the  knells 
Of  seamen  whelm 'd  in  chasms  of  the  mid-main, 
As  poets  sing  ;  or  that  it  is  a  pain 
To  know  the  dusk  depths  of  the  ponderous  sea, 
The  miles  profound  of  solid  green,  and  be 
392 


With  loath'd  cold  fishes,  far  from  man — or  what ; — 
I  know  the  sadness  but  the  cause  know  not. 
Then  they,  thus  rang'd,  'gan  make  full  plaintively 
A  piteous  Siren  sweetness  on  the  sea, 
Withouten  instrument,  or  conch,  or  bell, 
Or  stretch'd  cords  tunable  on  turtle's  shell ; 
Only  with  utterance  of  sweet  breath  they  sung 
An  antique  chaunt  and  in  unknown  tongue. 
Now  melting  upward  through  the  sloping  scale 
Swell'd  the  sweet  strain  to  a  melodious  wail ; 
Now  ringing  clarion-clear  to  whence  it  rose 
Slumber'd  at  last  in  one  sweet,  deep,  heart-broken  close. 

But  when  the  sun  had  lapsed  to  Ocean,  lo 
A  stealthy  wind  crept  round  seeking  to  blow, 
Linger'd,  then  raised  the  washing  waves  and  drench *d 
The  floating  blooms  and  with  tide  flowing  quench'd 
The  rosy  isles  :  so  that  I  stole  away 
And  gain'd  thro'  growing  dusk  the  stirless  bay  ; 
White  loom'd  my  rock,  the  water  gurgling  o'er, 
Whence  oft  I  watch  but  see  those  Mermaids  now 

no  more. 

GERALD   MANLEY   HOPKINS 

A  Vision  of  ttie  Mermaids  (1862) 


MERMAIDS  AND  MERMEN 

But  above  all,  the  Mermaids  and  Men-fish  seem  to  me  the 
most  strange  fish  in  the  waters.  Some  have  supposed  them 
to  be  devils  or  spirits  in  regard  of  their  whooping  noise 
that  they  make.  For  (as  if  they  had  power  to  raise  extra- 
ordinarie  storms  and  tempests)  the  winds  blow,  seas  rage, 

393 


and  clouds  drop,  presently  after  they  seem  to  call.  Ques- 
tionlesse  natures  instinct  works  in  them  a  quicker  insight, 
and  more  sudden  feeling  and  foresight  of  these  things, 
then  is  in  man  ;  upon  which  we  see  even  in  other  creatures 
upon  earth,  as  in  fowls,  who  feeling  the  alteration  of  the 
aire  in  their  feathers  and  quills,  do  plainly  prognosticate 
a  change  of  weather  before  it  appeareth  to  us.  And  of 
these  not  onely  the  poets,  but  others  also  have  written. 
The  poets  fein  there  were  three  Mermaids  or  Sirens ;  in 
their  upper  parts  like  maidens,  and  in  their  lower  parts 
fishes  :  which  dwelling  in  the  sea  of  Sicilie  would  allure 
sailors  to  them,  and  afterwards  devoure  them  ;  being  first 
brought  asleep  with  hearkening  to  their  sweet  singing. 
Their  names  (they  say)  were  Parthenope,  Lygia,  and 
Leucasia ;  wherefore  sometime  alluring  women  are  said 
to  be  Sirens.  JOHN  SWAN 

Speculum  Mundi  (1635) 


SEA  NYMPHS 

These  Nymphs  trick'd  up  in  tyers,  the  Sea-gods  to  delight : 
Of  Corral  of  each  kind,  the  blacke,  the  red,  the  white  ; 
With  many  sundry  shels,  the  Scallop  large  and  faire  ; 
The  Cockle  small  and  round,  the  Periwinkle  spare, 
The  Oyster,  wherein  oft  the  pearle  is  found  to  breed, 
The  Mussell,  which  retaines  that  daintie  Orient  seed  : 
In  Chaines  and  Bracelets  made,  with  linkes  of  sundry 

twists, 
Some  worne  about  their  wa^ts,  their  necks,  some  on  the 

wrists. 
Great  store  of  Amber  there,  and  Jeat  they  did  not  misse ; 

394 


Their  lips  they  sweetned  had  with  costly  Ambergris 

Now  thus  together  com'n,  they  friendly  doe  devise. 
Some  of  light  toyes,  and  some  of  matters  grave  and  wise. 
But  to  breake  off  their  speech,  her  reed  when  Syrinx  sounds, 
Some  cast  themselves  in  Rings,  and  fell  to  Hornepipe 

rounds : 

They  ceasing,  as  againe  to  others  turnes  it  falls, 
They  lustie  Galiards  tread,  some  other  Jiggs,  and  Braules. 
This  done,  upon  the  Banke  together  being  set, 
Proceeding  in  the  cause,  for  which  they  first  were  met, 
In    mightie    Neptunes   praise,    these    Sea-borne    Virgins 

sing  :  .  .  . 

Where  is  there  one  to  him  that  may  compared  be, 
That  both  the  Poles  at  once  continually  doth  see ; 
And  Gyant-like  with  heaven  as  often  maketh  warres  ; 
The  Hands  (in  his  power)  as  numberlesse  as  Starres, 
He  washeth  at  his  will,  and  with  his  mightie  hands 
He  makes  the  even  shores  oft  mountainous  with  Sands  : 
Whose  creatures,  which  observe  his  wide  Emperiall  seat, 
Like  his  immeasured  selfe,  are  infinite  and  greate. 

Thus  ended  they  their  Song,  and  off  th' Assembly 

brake. 
MICHAEL  DRAYTON,  Poly-Oibion.  Song  XX  (1622) 


SAILING  TO  THE  GUITAR 

I  have  a  boat  here  ...  it  is  swift  and  beautiful,  and 
appears  quite  a  vessel.  Williams  is  captain,  and  we  drive 
along  in  this  delightful  bay  in  the  evening  wind  under  the 
summer  moon  until  earth  appears  another  world.  Jane 
brings  her  guitar,  and  if  the  past  and  future  could  be 

395 


obliterated,  the  present  would  content  me  so  well  that  I 

could  say  with  Faust  to  the  passing  moment,  "  Remain, 

thou  art  so  beautiful."  p  B  SHELLEY 

Letter  to  John  Gisbome  (Lend,  1822) 


HAPPINESS  OF  SAILORS 

BOSWELL  :  "  Yet  sailors  are  happy."  JOHNSON  :  "  They 
are  happy  as  brutes  are  happy,  with  a  piece  of  fresh  meat, 
—with  the  grossest  sensuality."  JAMES  BOSWELL 

Life  of  Johnson  (1791) 


FORESTS  OF  THE  SEA 

The  world  below  the  brine. 

Forests  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  the  branches  and  leaves, 

Sea-lettuce,  vast  lichens,  strange  flowers  and  seeds,  the 

thick  tangle,  openings,  and  pink  turf, 
Different  colors,  pale  gray  and  green,  purple,  white,  and 

gold,  the  play  of  light  through  the  water, 
Dumb  swimmers  there  among  the  rocks,  coral,  gluten, 

grass,  rushes,  and  the  aliment  of  the  swimmers, 
Sluggish  existences  grazing  there  suspended,  or  slowly 

crawling  close  to  the  bottom, 
The  sperm-whale  at  the  surface  blowing  air  and  spray, 

or  disporting  with  his  flukes, 
The  leaden-eyed  shark,  the  walrus,  the  turtle,  the  hairy 

sea-leopard,  and  the  sting-ray.  .  .  .    WALT  WHITMAN 

The  World  below  the  Brine.  Sea-Drift  (1860) 
396 


MATHEMATICAL 


A  THOUSAND  ADVANTAGES 

Whereas  Mathematicks  improves  all  our  Faculties,  makes 
the  Judgment  stronger,  and  the  Memory  take  in  more.  The 
Dull  it  teaches  to  perceive,  and  the  Giddy  to  Attend.  It 
distinguishes  between  True  and  False,  and  enures  us  to 
Difficulties  :  Besides,  it  gives  us  a  thousand  Advantages  in 
Life.  By  this  the  Miser  counts  his  Bags,  and  the  Country- 
man knows  his  Times  and  Seasons.  This  gives  our  Can- 
non aim  in  War,  and  in  Peace  furnishes  every  Workman 
with  his  Tools.  How  many  noble  Engines  has  it  invented  ? 
In  one  the  Wind  labours  for  us,  and  another  turns  Bogs 
and  Pools  into  firm  Land.  This  builds  us  Houses,  defends 
our  Towns,  and  makes  the  Sea  useful.  Nor  are  its  effects 
less  wonderful  than  advantagious.  The  Mathematicks  can 
do  more  things  than  any  Poet  e'er  yet  conceiv'd.  He  in 
a  Map  can  contract  Asia  to  a  Span,  and  in  a  Glass  shew 
a  City  from  a  Single  House,  and  an  Army  from  a  Man. 
He  can  set  the  Heavens  a  thousand  years  forward,  and  call 
all  the  Stars  by  their  Names.  There  is  scarce  anything 
without  his  reach  ;  He  can  gauge  the  Channel  of  the  Sea, 
and  weigh  Saturn.  He  sees  farthest  into  the  Art  and 
Skill  of  the  Creator,  and  can  write  the  best  Comment 
on  the  Six  Days  Work. 

397 


Be  advis'd  therefore  to  employ  yourself  rather  in  the 
improving  of  your  Understandings  than  debauching  of 
your  Passions  ...  To  my  mind,  to  make  a  Dial  is  harder 
than  to  find  a  Motto  to  it,  and  a  Prospect  drawn  in  Lines 
pleasanter  than  one  in  Words.  Instead  of  descriptions  of 
cool  Groves  and  flowry  Gardens,  you  may  inform  yourself 
of  the  Situation  and  Extent  of  Empires,  and  while  others 
are  wandring  in  Elysian-fields  and  fancy'd  Shades  below, 
you  may  raise  your  Thoughts  to  the  Infinity  of  Space 
above,  and  visit  all  those  Worlds  that  shine  upon  us 
here  . .  .  and  mind  little  in  Venus  but  her  periodic  Motion. 

F.   G.   DE   QUEVEDO 

Trans.  John  Savage  (1696) 


ARCHIMEDES  AND  His  SIREN 

Archimedes  had  such  a  great  minde,  and  was  so  profoundly 
learned,  having  hidden  in  him  the  onely  treasure  and 
secrets  of  Geometricall  inventions  :  as  he  would  never  set 
forth  any  booke  how  to  make  all  these  warlicke  engynes, 
which  wanne  him  at  that  time  the  fame  and  glory,  not  of 
mans  knowledge,  but  rather  of  divine  wisedom.  But  he 
esteminge  all  kinde  of  handy  craft  and  invention  to  make 
engines,  and  generally  all  maner  of  sciences  bringing 
common  commodity  by  the  use  of  them,  to  be  but  vyle, 
beggarly,  and  mercenary  drosse  :  employed  his  witte  and 
study  onely  to  write  thinges,  the  beawty  and  subtiltie 
whereof  were  not  mingled  any  thinge  at  all  with  necessi- 
tie.  For  all  that  he  hath  written,  are  geometricall  pro- 
posicions,  which  are  without  comparison  of  any  other 
writings  whatsoever  :  bicause  the  subject  whereof  they 

398 


treate,  doth  appeare  by  demonstration,  the  matter  giving 
them  the  grace  and  the  greatnes,  and  the  demonstration 
proving  it  so  exquisitely,  with  wonderfull  reason  and  facil- 
itie  .  .  .  And  therefore  that  me  thinks  is  like  enough  to  be 
true,  which  they  write  of  him  ;  that  he  was  so  ravished  and 
dronke  with  the  swete  intysements  of  this  Sirene,  which  as 
it  were  lay  continually  with  him. 

PLUTARCH 

Lives  (c.  100) 

Trans.  Sir  Thomas  North  (1572) 


IN  LOVE  WITH  GEOMETRY 

He  [Hobbes]  was  40  yeares  old  before  he  looked  on  geo- 
metry ;  which  happened  accidentally.  Being  in  a  gentle- 
man's library  .  .  .  Euclid's  Elements  lay  open,  and  'twas 

the  47  El.  libri  I.  He  read  the  proposition.  "  By  G " 

sayd  he,  "  this  is  impossible ! "  So  he  reads  the  demonstra- 
tion of  it,  which  referred  him  back  to  such  a  proposition  ; 
which  proposition  he  read.  That  referred  him  back  to 
another,  which  he  also  read.  Et  sic  deinceps,  that  at  last 
he  was  demonstratively  convinced  of  that  trueth.  This 
made  him  in  love  with  geometry. 

JOHN   AUBREY 

Brief  Lives  :  Thomas  Hobbes  (c.  1680) 


399 


MATRIMONY 


HAPPY  NUPTIAL  LEAGUE 

So  hand  in  hand  they  passd,  the  lovliest  pair 
That  ever  since  in  loves  imbraces  met, 
Adam  the  goodliest  man  of  men  since  born 
His  Sons,  the  fairest  of  her  Daughters  Eve. 
Under  a  tuft  of  shade  that  on  a  green 
Stood  whispering  soft,  by  a  fresh  Fountain  side 
They  sat  them  down,  and  after  no  more  toil 
Of  thir  sweet  Gardning  labour  then  suffic'd 
To  recommend  coole  Zephyr,  and  made  ease 
More  easie,  wholsom  thirst  and  appetite 
More  grateful,  to  thir  Supper  Fruits  they  fell, 
Nectarine  Fruits,  which  the  compliant  boughes 
Yeilded  them,  side-long  as  they  sat  recline 
On  the  soft  downie  Bank  damaskt  with  flours  : 
The  savourie  pulp  they  chew,  and  in  the  rinde 
Still  as  they  thirsted  scoop  the  brimming  stream 
Nor  gentle  purpose,  nor  endearing  smiles 
Wanted,  nor  youthful  dalliance  as  beseems 
Fair  couple,  linkt  in  happie  nuptial  League, 
Alone  as  they.  About  them  frisking  playd 
All  Beasts  of  th'Earth,  since  wilde,  and  of  all  chase 
In  Wood  or  Wilderness,  Forrest  or  Den  ; 
400 


Sporting  the  Lion  rampd,  and  in  his  paw 
DandPd  the  Kid  ;  Bears,  Tygers,  Ounces,  Pards 
Gambold  before  them,  th'unwieldy  Elephant 
To  make  them  mirth  us'd  all  his  might,  and 

wreathd 
His  lithe  Proboscis  ; 

JOHN   MILTON 

Paradise  Lost,  Book  IV  (1667) 


PROLOGUE  AND  PLAY 

BELINDA  :  Yes  :  You  fluttering  Men  of  the  Mode  have 
made  Marriage  a  meer  French  dish.  .  .  .  You  are  so  curious 
in  the  Preparation,  that  is,  your  Courtship,  one  wou'd 
rhink  you  meant  a  noble  Entertainment — But  when  we 
come  to  feed,  'tis  all  Froth,  and  poor,  but  in  show  Nay, 
often,  only  Remains,  which  have  been  I  know  not  how 
many  times  warm'd  for  other  Company,  and  at  last  serv'd 
up  cold  to  the  Wife. 

BELLMOUR  :  But  you  timorous  Virgins  form  a  dreadful 
Chimaera  of  a  Husband,  as  of  a  Creature  contrary  to  that 
soft,  pliant,  easie  thing,  a  Lover ;  so  guess  at  Plagues  in 
Matromony,  in  Opposition  to  the  Pleasures  of  Courtship. 
Alas  !  Courtship  to  Marriage  is  but  as  the  Musick  in  the 
Play-Housc,  'till  the  Curtain's  drawn  ;  but  that  once  up, 
then  opens  the  Scene  of  Pleasure. 

BELINDA  :  Oh,  foh — no  :  Rather,  Courtship  to  Marriage, 
as  a  very  witty  Prologue  to  a  very  dull  Play. 

WILLIAM  CONGREVE 

The  Old  Batchelor  (1693) 
401 


GREAT  PLEASURE 

At  noon  I  home  to  dinner  with  my  poor  wife,  with  whom 
now-a-days  I  enjoy  great  pleasure  in  her  company  and 
learning  of  Arithmetique.  SAMUEL  PEPYS 

Diary  (Dec.  i,  1663) 


QUALIFYING  FOR  THE  FLITCH 

At  last  an  hospitable  House  they  found, 

A  homely  Shed  ;  the  Roof,  not  far  from  Ground, 

Was  thatch'd  with  Reeds  and  Straw,  together  bound. 

There  Baucis  and  Philemon  liv'd,  and  there 

Had  liv'd  long  marry'd,  and  a  happy  Pair  : 

Now  old  in  Love,  though  little  was  their  Store,  .  .  . 

Command  was  none,  where  equal  Love  was  paid, 

Or  rather  both  commanded,  both  obey'd  .  .  . 

Then  thus  the  Sire  of  Gods,  with  Looks  serene  : 
Speak  thy  Desire,  thou  only  Just  of  Men  ; 
And  thou,  O  Woman,  only  worthy  found 
To  be  with  such  a  Man  in  Marriage  bound. 

A-while  they  whisper  ;  then,  to  Jove  address'd, 
Philemon  thus  prefers  their  joint  Request :  .  .  . 
And  since  not  any  Action  of  our  Life 
Has  been  polluted  with  Domestick  Strife  ; 
We  beg  one  Hour  of  Death,  that  neither  she 
With  Widow's  Tears  may  live  to  bury  me, 
Nor  weeping  I,  with  wither'd  Arms,  may  bear 
My  breathless  Baucis  to  the  Sepulcher. 

The  Godheads  sign  their  Suit.  They  run  the  Race 
402 


In  the  same  Tenour  all  th'  appointed  Space  : 

Then,  when  their  Hour  was  come,  while  they  relate 

These  past  Adventures  at  the  Temple  Gate, 

Old  Baucis  is  by  old  Philemon  seen 

Sprouting  with  sudden  Leaves  of  spritely  green  : 

Old  Baucis  look'd  where  old  Philemon  stood. 

And  saw  his  lengthened  Arms  a  sprouting  Wood  : 

New  Roots  their  fasten'd  Feet  begin  to  bind, 

Their  Bodies  stiffen  in  a  rising  Rind  : 

Then,  ere  the  Bark  above  their  Shoulders  grew, 

They  give  and  take  at  once  their  last  Adieu. 

At  once.  Farewell,  O  faithful  Spouse,  they  said  : 

At  once  th'  incroaching  Rinds  their  closing  Lips  invade. 

Ev'n  yet,  an  ancient  Tyranean  shows 

A  spreading  Oak,  that  near  a  Linden  grows  ; 

The  Neighbourhood  confirm  the  Prodigy, 

Grave  Men,  nor  vain  of  Tongue,  nor  like  to  lye. 

I  saw  myself  the  Garlands  on  their  Boughs, 

And  Tablets  hung  for  Gifts  of  granted  Vows. 

And,  off 'ring  fresher  up,  with  pious  Pray'r, 

The  Good,  said  I,  are  God's  peculiar  Care, 

And  such  as  honour  Heav'n,  shall  heav'nly  Honour 

share. 

OVID,  Metamorphoses  (c.  5  B.C.) 

Trans.  John  Dry  den  (1700) 


HARMONY 

There  is  no  happy  life 
But  in  a  wife 

The  Comforts  are  so  sweete 
When  they  doe  meete 
403 


Tis  plenty  Peace  a  Calme 

Like  Droping  Balme 

Loves  wether  is  so  fayre 

Perfumed  Aire 

Each  work  such  pleasure  brings 

Like  soft  toucht  strings 

Loves  Passion  moves  the  harte 

On  Eyther  parte 

Such  harmony  together 

So  pleasd  in  Eyther 

No  discords.  Concords  still 

Seald  with  one  will 

By  love,  God,  man,  made  one 

Yett  not  alone 

Like  Stamps  of  Kinge,  and  Queene 

Itt  may  be  scene 

Two  figures  but  one  Coyne 

So  they  doe  Joyne 

Onely  they  not  Imbrase 

We  face  to  face. 

DUKE   OF   NEWCASTLE 

The  Phanseys  :  Loves  Matremony  (c.  1645) 


'Tis  HONOURABLE 

I  shou'd  have  persuaded  you  to  Marriage,  but  to  deal 
ingeniously,  I  am  a  little  out  of  Arguments  that  way  at 
present :  'Tis  honourable,  there's  no  question  on't ;  but 
what  more,  in  good  Faith,  I  cannot  readily  tell. 

SIR  JOHN  SUCKLING 

Letter  to  a  Cousin  (1638) 
404 


ILL  CHANCE 

Which  if  it  were  so  needfull  before  the  fall,  when  man 
was  much  more  perfect  in  himselfe,  how  much  more  is 
it  needfull  now  against  all  the  sorrows  and  casualties  of  life 
to  have  an  intimate  and  speaking  help,  a  ready  and  reviv- 
ing associate  in  marriage  :  whereof  who  misses  by  chanc- 
ing on  a  mute  and  spiritles  mate,  remains  more  alone  than 
before —  But  this  pure  and  more  inbred  desire  of  joyning 
to  it  selfe  in  conjugall  fellowship  a  fit  conversing  soul 
(which  desire  is  properly  call'd  love)  is  stronger  than 
death,  as  the  spouse  of  Christ  thought,  many  waters  can- 
not quench  it^  neither  can  the  floods  drown  it.  This  is  that 
rationall  burning  that  marriage  is  to  remedy,  .  .  .  which 
how  can  he  asswage  who  by  mis-hap  hath  met  the  most 
unmeetest  and  unsutable  mind  ?  .  .  . 

If  he  be  such  as  hath  spent  his  youth  unblamably,  and 
layd  up  his  chiefest  earthly  comforts  in  the  enjoyment  of  a 
contented  marriage,  .  . .  when  he  shall  find  himselfe  bound 
fast  to  an  uncomplying  discord  of  nature,  or,  as  it  oft 
happens,  to  an  image  of  earth  and  fleam,  with  whom  he 
lookt  to  be  the  co-partner  of  a  sweet  and  gladsome  society, 
and  sees  withall  that  his  bondage  is  now  inevitable,  though 
he  be  almost  the  strongest  Christian,  he  will  be  ready  to 
despair  in  vertue,  and  mutin  against  divine  providence :  and 
this  doubtless  is  the  reason  of  those  lapses  and  that  melan- 
choly despair  which  we  see  in  many  wedded  persons, 
though  they  understand  it  not,  or  pretend  other  causes. .  . . 

Did  he  open  so  to  us  this  hazardous  and  accidental  doore 
of  mariage  to  shut  upon  us  like  the  gate  of  death  without 
retracting  or  returning,  without  permitting  to  change 
the  worst,  most  insupportable,  most  unchristian  mis- 
chance of  mariage  for  all  the  mischiefes  and  sorrows  that 

405 


can  ensue,  being  an  ordinance  which  was  especially  giv'n 
as  a  cordiall  and  exhilarating  cup  of  solace  the  better  to 
beare  our  other  crosses  and  afflictions  ?  .  .  .  . 

So  likewise  the  Apostle  witnesseth, .  .  .  that  in  mariage 
God  hath  calVd  us  to  peace.  The  rest  whom  either  dispro- 
portion or  deadnesse  of  spirit,  or  something  distastefull 
and  averse  in  the  immutable  bent  of  nature,  renders  un- 
conjugall,error  may  have  joyn'd,but  God  never  joyn'd 

For  what  kind  of  matrimony  can  that  remain  to  be, 
what  one  dutie  between  such  can  be  perform'd  as  it 
should  be  from  the  heart,  when  their  thoughts  and  spirits 
flie  asunder  as  farre  as  heaven  from  hell :  .  .  . 

The  same  may  be  said  touching  those  persons  who 
being  of  a  pensive  nature  and  cours  of  life,  have  sum'd  up 
all  their  solace  in  that  free  and  lightsome  conversation 
which  God  and  man  intends  in  marriage  :  whereof  when 
they  see  themselves  depriv'd  by  meeting  an  unsociable 
consort,  they  oft-times  resent  one  anothers  mistake  so 
deeply,  that  long  it  is  not  ere  griefe  end  one  of  them.  .  .  . 

JOHN   MILTON 

Doctrine  and  Discipline  of  Divorce  (1643) 


AUSTIN  MISTAKEN 

Austin  contends  that  manly  friendship  in  all  other  regards 
had  bin  a  more  becoming  solace  for  Adam,  than  to  spend 
so  many  secret  years  in  an  empty  world  with  one  woman. 
But  our  Writers  deservedly  reject  this  crabbed  opinion  ; 
and  defend  that  there  is  a  peculiar  comfort  in  the  maried 
state  besides  the  genial  bed,  which  no  other  society 
affords.  .  .  .  We  cannot  alwayes  be  contemplative,  or 
pragmaticall  abroad,  but  have  need  of  som  delightfull 

406 


intermissions,  wherin  the  enlarg'd  soul  may  leav  off  a 
while  her  severe  schooling  ;  and  like  a  glad  youth  in  wand- 
ring  vacancy,  may  keep  her  holidaies  to  joy  and  harmles 
pastime  :  which  as  she  cannot  well  doe  without  company, 
so  in  no  company  so  well  as  where  the  different  sexe  in 
most  resembling  unlikeness,  and  most  unlike  resemblance 
cannot  but  please  best.  .  .  .  Wisest  Salomon  among  his 
gravest  Proverbs  countenances  a  kinde  of  ravishment  and 
erring  fondnes  in  the  entertainment  of  wedded  leisures  ; 
and  in  the  Song  of  Songs,  which  is  generally  beleev'd,  even 
in  the  j oiliest  expressions  to  figure  the  spousals  of  the 
Church  with  Christ,  sings  of  a  thousand  raptures  between 
those  two  lovely  ones  farre  on  the  hither  side  of  carnall 
enjoyment.  By  these  instances  and  more  which  might  be 
brought  we  may  imagine  how  indulgently  God  provided 
against  man's  loneliness.  .  .  .  But  God  is  no  deceitfull 
giver,  to  bestow  that  on  us  for  a  remedy  of  loneliness, 
which  if  it  bring  not  a  sociable  minde  as  well  as  a  con- 
junctive body,  leavs  us  no  lesse  alone  than  before  ;  and 
if  it  bring  a  minde  perpetually  avers  and  disagreeable, 
betraies  us  to  a  wors  condition  than  the  most  deserted 
lonelines.  .  .  . 

Therefore  shall  a  man  leav  his  father  and  his  mother,  and 
shall  cleav  unto  his  wife  ;  and  they  shall  be  one  flesh. 

This  vcrs, ...  is  the  great  knot  tier,  .  . .  this  that  greisly 
Porter,  who  having  drawn  men  and  wisest  men  by  subtle 
allurement  within  the  train  of  an  unhappy  matrimony, 
claps  the  dungeon  gate  upon  them,  as  irrecoverable  as  the 
grave.  But  if  we  view  him  well,  and  hear  him  with  not  too 
hasty  and  prejudicant  ears,  we  shall  finde  no  such  terror 
in  him.  .  .  .  Cleav  to  a  wife,  but  let  her  bee  a  wife,  let  her 
be  a  meet  help,  a  solace,  not  a  nothing,  not  an  adversary, 
not  a  desertrice ;  .  .  .  Wee  know  that  flesh  can  neither 

407 


joyn,  nor  keep  together  two  bodies  of  it  self;  what  is  it 
then,  must  make  them  one  flesh,  but  likenes,  but  fitnes 
of  mind  and  disposition,  which  may  breed  the  Spirit  of 
concord,  and  union  between  them  ?  If  that  be  not  in  the 
nature  of  either,  and  that  there  has  bin  a  remediles  mis- 
take, as  vain  wee  goe  about  to  compell  them  into  one  flesh, 
as  if  wee  undertook  to  weav  a  garment  of  drie  sand.  .  .  . 

JOHN  MILTON,  Tetrachordon  (1645) 


A  MOVING  THING 

DORINDA  :  Mine  offer'd  Marriage. 
MRS  SULLEN  :  O  lard  I  D'ye  call  that  a  moving  thing  ? 
DOR.  :  The  sharpest  Arrow  in  his  Quiver,  my  dear  Sister. 
...  If  I  marry  my  Lord  Aimwell,  there  will  be  Title,  Place 
and  Precedence,  the  Park,  the  Play,  and  the  drawing- 
room,  Splendor,  Equipage,  Noise,  and  Flambeaux. — Hey, 
my  Lady  AimweWs  Servants  there — Lights,  Lights  to 
the  Stairs — My  Lady  AimweWs  Coach  put  forward — 
Stand  by,  make  room  for  her  Ladyship — Are  not  these 
things  moving  ? 

GEORGE  FARQUHAR,  The  Beaux'  Stratagem  (1707) 


^  INCOMPATIBILITY 

MRS.  SULLEN  :  Pray,  Spouse,  what  did  you  marry  for  ? 
SULLEN  :  To  get  an  Heir  to  my  Estate. 
SIR  CHARLES  :  And  have  you  succeeded  ? 
SUL.  :  No. 

408 


ARCHER  :  The  Condition  fails  of  his  side. — Pray,  Madam, 

what  did  you  marry  for  ? 

MRS  SUL.  :  To  support  the  Weakness  of  my  Sex  by  the 

Strength  of  his,  and  to  enjoy  the  Pleasures  of  an  agreeable 

Society. 

SIR  CH.  :  Are  your  Expectations  answer 'd  ? 

MRS  SUL.  :  No. 

SIR  CH.  :  What  are  the  Bars  to  your  mutual  Contentment  ? 

MRS  SUL.  :  In  the  first  place,  I  can't  drink  Ale  with  him. 

SUL.  :  Nor  can  I  drink  Tea  with  her. 

MRS  SUL.  :  I  can't  hunt  with  you. 

SUL.  :  Nor  can  I  dance  with  you. 

MRS  SUL.  :  I  hate  Cocking  and  Racing. 

SUL.  :  And  I  abhor  Ombre  and  Piquet. 

MRS  SUL.  :  Your  Silence  is  intollerable. 

SUL.  :  Your  Prating  is  worse. 

MRS  SUL.  :  Have  we  not  been  a  perpetual  Offence  to  each 

other — A  gnawing  Vulture  at  the  Heart  ? 

SUL.  :  A  frightful  Goblin  to  the  Sight. 

MRS  SUL.  :  A  Porcupine  to  the  Feeling. 

SUL.  :  Perpetual  Wormwood  to  the  Taste. 

MRS.  SUL.  :  Is  there  on  Earth  a  thing  we  cou'd  agree  in  ? 

SUL.  :  Yes— To  part. 

MRS.  SUL.  :  With  all  my  Heart.  Ibid. 


*   FOR  BETTER,  FOR  WORSE 

SIR  OLIVER  :  Well,  a  pox  of  this  tying  man  and  woman 
together,  for  better,  for  worse  !       SIR  GEORGE  ETHEREGE 

She  wou'd  if  she  cou'd  (1668) 
409 


LIBERTY 

LYDIA  :  But  if  I  cou'd  be  desperate,  now,  and  give  you  up 
my  liberty,  cou'd  you  find  in  your  heart  to  quit  all  other 
engagements,  and  voluntrarily  turn  your  self  over  to  one 
woman,  and  she  a  Wife  too  ?  Cou'd  you  away  with  the 
insufferable  bondage  of  Matrimony  ? 
RANGER  :  You  talk  of  Matrimony  as  irreverently  as  my 

Lady  Flippant.  The  bondage  of  Matrimony,  no 

The  end  of  Marriage  now  is  Liberty -, 
And  two  are  bound — to  set  each  other  free. 

WILLIAM   WYCHERLEY 

Love  in  a  Wood  (1671) 

A  FATHER'S  CHOICE 

PRUE  :  By  that  time,  he'll  be  your  Husband,  if  your 
Father  come  to-night. 

HIPPOLITA  :  Or  if  I  provide  no  not  myself  with  another 
in  the  meantime  !  For  Fathers  seldom  chuse  well,  and  I 
will  no  more  take  my  Father's  choice  in  a  Husband  than 
I  would  in  a  Gown  or  a  Suit  of  Knots  :  so  that  if  that 
Cousin  of  mine  were  not  an  ill-contrived  Frekeish-fool, 
in  being  my  Father's  choice,  I  shou'd  hate  him. 

WILLIAM   WYCHERLEY 

The  Gentleman  Dancing- Master  (1672) 


NOTHING  VIOLENT 

Lord  L.  bowed,  delighted  ;  and  if  he  did,  his  good  Lady, 
you  may  be  sure,  partook  of  her  Lord's  delight.  They 

410 


are  a  happy  pair  !  They  want  not  sense  ;  they  have  both 
fine  understandings  !  But,  O  !  my  Lucy,  they  are  not  the 
striking,  dazzling  qualities  in  men  and  women,  that  make 
happy.  Good  sense,  and  solid  judgment,  a  natural  com- 
placency of  temper,  a  desire  of  obliging,  and  an  easiness  to 
be  obliged,  procure  the  silent,  the  serene  happiness,  to 
which  the  fluttering,  tumultuous,  impetuous  fervors  of 
passion  can  never  contribute.  Nothing  violent  can  be 
lasting. 

SAMUEL   RICHARDSON 

Sir  Charles  Grandison  (1754) 


HUMAN  NATURE 

SIR  CHARLES  :  My  friend  Beauchamp  deserves  the  best 
of  women.  You  are  excellent  in  my  eyes  ;  but  I  have 
known  two  very  worthy  persons,  who,  taken  separately, 
have  been  admired  by  every  one  who  knew  them,  and  who 
admired  each  other  before  marriage,  yet  not  happy  in  it. 
Miss  GRANDISON  :  Is  it  possible  ?  To  what  could  their  un- 
happiness  be  owing  ? — Both,  I  suppose,  continuing  good  ? 
SIR  C. :  To  a  hundred  almost  nameless  reasons — Too 
little  consideration  on  one  side ;  too  much  on  the  other  : 
Diversions  different :  Too  much  abroad  the  man — Too 
much  at  home  will  sometimes  have  the  same  effect : 
Acquaintances  approved  by  the  one — Disapproved  by  the 
other  :  One  liking  the  town ;  the  other  the  country  :  Or 
either  preferring  town  or  country  in  different  humours, 
or  at  different  times  of  the  year.  Human  nature,  Charlotte. 
Miss  G. :  No  more,  I  beseech  you,  Brother — Why  this 

411 


human  nature,  I  believe,  is  a  very  vile  thing  !  I  think, 
Lady  L.,  I  won't  marry  at  all. 

SIR  C. :  Some  such  trifles,  as  these  I  have  enumerated, 
will  be  likely  to  make  you,  Charlotte,  with  all  your 
excellencies,  not  so  happy  as  I  wish  you  to  be.  If  you 
cannot  have  a  man  of  whose  understanding  you  have  a 
higher  opinion  than  you  have  of  your  own,  you  should 
think  of  one  who  is  likely  to  allow  to  yours  a  superio- 
rity. .  .  .  And  now  the  question  recurs,  What  shall  I 
say  to  Lord  G  ?  What  to  Sir  Walter  ? 

Miss  G. :  Why,  I  think  you  must  make  my  compliments  to 
Sir  Walter,  if  you  will  be  so  good  ;  and,  after  the  example 
of  my  Sister  Harriet  to  the  men  she  sends  a  grazing,  very 
civilly  tell  him,  he  may  break  his  heart  as  soon  as  he 
pleases  ;  for  that  I  cannot  be  his. 

SIR  C.  :  Strange  girl  !  But  I  wish  not  to  lower  this  lively 
spirit — You  will  put  your  determination  into  English. 

Miss  G. :  In  plain  English,  then,  I  can  by  no  means  think 
of  encouraging  the  address  of  Sir  Walter  Watkins. 
SIR  C. :  Well,  and  what  shall  I  say  to  Lord  G,  ?  ...  Can 
you,  do  you  think,  love  Lord  G.  ? 

Miss  G. :  Love  him  !  love  Lord  G.  ?  what  a  question  is 
that !  Why  no,  I  verily  believe,  that  I  can't  say  that. 

SIR  C. :  Can  you  esteem  him  ? 

Miss  G.  :  Esteem  !  Why  that's  a  quaint  word,  tho'  a 
female  one.  I  believe  if  I  were  to  marry  the  honest  man,  I 
could  be  civil  to  him,  if  he  would  be  very  complaisant, 
very  observant,  and  all  that.  .  .  . 

SIR  C. :  .  .  .  But  if  you  cannot  be  more  than  civil,  and  if 
is  to  be  very  observant,  you'll  make  it  your  agreement  he 
with  him,  before  you  meet  him  at  the  altar,  that  he,shall 

412 


subscribe  to  the  woman's  part  of  the  vow,  and  that  you 
shall  answer  to  the  man's. 

Miss  G. :  A  good  thought,  I  believe  !  I'll  consider  of  it. 
If  I  find,  in  courtship,  the  man  will  bear  it,  I  may  make 
the  proposal. — Yet  I  don't  know,  but  it  will  be  as  well  to 
suppose  the  vow  changed,  without  conditioning  for  it,  as 
other  good  women  do ;  and  act  accordingly.  One  would 
not  begin  with  a  singularity,  for  fear  of  putting  the  parson 
out.  I  heard  an  excellent  Lady  once  advice  a  good  wife, 
who,  however,  very  little  wanted  it,  to  give  the  man  a 
hearing,  and  never  do  anything  that  he  would  wish  to  be 
done,  except  she  chose  to  do  it.  If  the  man  loves  quiet, 
he'll  be  glad  to  compound. 

SAMUEL   RICHARDSON 

Sir  Charles  Grandison  (1754) 


THE  PERFECT  HUSBAND 

Never  man  had  a  greater  passion  for  a  woman,  nor  a  more 
honourable  esteeme  of  a  wife,  yet  he  was  not  uxurious, 
nor  remitted  not  that  just  lule  which  it  was  her  honor  to 
obey,  but  manag'd  th'  reines  of  governement  with  such 
prudence  and  affection  that  she  who  would  not  delight  in 
such  an  honourable  and  advantageable  subjection,  must 
have  wanted  a  reasonable  soule  :  he  govern'd  by  perswa- 
sion,  which  he  never  employ'd  but  to  things  honorable 
and  profitable  for  herself:  He  lov'd  her  soule  and  her 
honor  more  than  her  outside,  and  yet  he  had  even  for  her 
person  a  constant  indulgence,  exceeding  the  common 
temporary  passions  of  the  most  uxurious  fooles  :  if  he 
esteem'd  her  att  a  higher  rate  than  she  in  herselfe  could 

413 


have  deserv'd,  he  was  the  author  of  that  vertue  he  doated 
on,  while  she  only  reflected  his  own  glories  upon  him  ;  all 
that  she  was,  was  him,  while  he  was  here,  and  all  that  she  is 
now  at  best  is  but  his  pale  shade.  So  liberall  was  he  to  her, 
and  of  so  generous  a  temper,  that  he  hated  the  mention  of 
sever'd  purses ;  his  estate  being  so  much  at  her  dispose, 
that  he  never  would  receive  an  account  of  aniething  she 
expended ;  so  constant  was  he  in  his  love,  that  when  she 
ceas'd  to  be  young  and  lovely,  he  began  to  shew  most 
fondnesse  ;  he  lov'd  her  at  such  a  kind  and  generous  rate 
as  words  cannot  expresse  ;  yet  even  this,  which  was  the 
highest  love  he  or  anie  man  could  have,  was  yet  bounded 
by  a  superior,  he  lov'd  her  in  the  Lord  as  his  fellow 
creature,  not  his  idoll,  but  in  such  a  manner  as  show'd 
that  an  affection,  bounded  in  the  just  rules  of  duty,  far 
exceeds  every  way  all  the  irregular  passions  in  the  world. 
He  lov'd  God  above  her,  and  all  the  other  dear  pledges  of 
his  heart,  and  at  his  command,  and  for  his  glorie  cheare- 
fully  resign'd  them.  He  was  as  kinde  a  father,  as  deare  a 
brother,  as  good  a  master,  and  as  faithful  a  friend  as  the 
world  had. 

LUCY   HUTCHINSON 

To  her  Children  concerning  their  Father  (c.  1665) 


TRAPPED 

SILVIA  :  But  do  you  intend  to  marry  me  ? 
HEARTWELL  :  That  a  Fool  should  ask  such  a  malicious 
question  !  Death,  I  shall  be  drawn  in,  before  I  know  where 
I  am —  .  .  .  Marry  you  ?  no,  no,  I'll  love  you. 
SILVIA  :  Nay,  but  if  you  love  me,  you  must  marry  me  ; 

414 


what  don't  I  know  my  Father  lov'd  my  Mother,  and  was  ( 

married  to  her  ? 

HEART.  :  Ay,  ay,  in  old  Days,  People  married  where  they 

lov'd  ;  but  that  Fashion  is  chang'd,  Child. 

SIL.  :  Never  tell  me  that,  for  I  know  it  is  not  chang'd 

by  my  self ;  for  I  love  you,  and  would  marry  you.  .  .  . 

HEART.  :  Damn  her,  let  her  go,  and  a  good  riddance — Yet 

so  much  Tenderness  and  Beauty  and  Honesty  together  is 

a  Jewel — Stay,  Silvia —  But  then  to  marry — Why  every 

Man  plays  the  Fool  once  in  his  Life  :  But  to  marry  is 

playing  the  Fool  all  one's  Life  long.  .  .  .  Well,  farewel 

then — if  I  can  get  out  of  Sight  I  may  get  the  better  of 

myself. 

SIL.  :  Well— good  buy.  (Turns  and  Weeps.} 

HEART.  :  Ha  '  Nay  come,  we'll  kiss  at  parting  ...  By 

Heav'n,  her  kiss  is  sweeter  than  Liberty — I  will  marry 

thee — There  thou  hast  don't.  All  my  Resolves  melted  in 

that  Kiss — one  more. 

SIL.  :  But  when  ? 

HEART.  :  I'm  impatient  till  it  be  done ;  I  will  not  give 

myself  Liberty  to  think,  lest  I  should  cool — I  will  about  a 

Licence  straight.  .  .  .  One  Kiss  more  to  confirm  me  mad  ; 

so-  WILLIAM   CONGREVE 

The  Old  Batchelor  (1693) 


IMPROVING  THE  MIND 

But  the  Grand  affair  of  your  life  will  be  to  gain  and  pre- 
serve the  Freindship  and  Esteem  of  your  Husband.  You 
are  married  to  a  Man  of  good  education  and  learning,  of 

415 


an  excellent  understanding,  and  an  exact  taste.  It  is  true, 
and  it  is  happy  for  you,  that  these  Qualities  in  him  are 
adorned  with  great  Modesty,  a  most  amiable  Sweetness  of 
Temper,  and  an  unusual  disposition  to  Sobriety  and  Virtue : 
But  neither  Good-Nature  nor  Virtue  will  suffer  him  to  es- 
teem you  against  his  Judgment ;  and  although  he  is  not 
capable  of  using  you  ill,  yet  you  will  in  time  grow  a  thing 
indifferent,  and  perhaps  contemptible ;  unless  you  can 
supply  the  loss  of  Youth  and  Beauty  with  more  durable 
Qualities.  You  have  but  a  very  few  years  to  be  young  and 
handsome  in  the  eyes  of  the  World  ;  and  as  few  months  to 
be  so,  in  the  eyes  of  a  Husband,  who  is  not  a  Fool ;  for  I 
hope  you  do  not  still  dream  of  Charms  and  Raptures, 
which  Marriage  ever  did,  and  ever  will,  put  a  sudden  end 
to.  Besides,  yours  was  a  match  of  Prudence  and  common 
good-liking,  without  any  mixture  of  that  ridiculous  Pas- 
sion which  has  no  Being  but  in  Play-Books  and  Romances. 
You  must  therefore  use  all  endeavours  to  attain  to 
some  degree  of  those  Accomplishments  which  your 
Husband  most  values  in  other  People,  and  for  which  he  is 
most  valued  himself.  You  must  improven  your  Mind.  .  .  . 
You  must  get  a  collection  of  History  and  Travels  which  I 
will  recommend  to  you,  and  spend  some  hours  every  day 
in  reading  them,  and  making  extracts  from  them  if  your 
Memory  be  weak.  You  must  invite  Persons  of  knowledge 
and  understanding  to  an  acquaintance  with  you,  by  whose 
Conversation  you  may  learn  to  correct  your  Taste  and 
Judgement ;  and  when  you  can  bring  yourself  to  compre- 
hend and  relish  the  good  Sense  of  others,  you  will  arrive  in 
time  to  think  rightly  yourself,  and  to  become  a  Reasonable 
and  Agreeable  Companion.  This  must  produce  in  your 
Husband  a  true  Rational  Love  and  Esteem  for  you,  which 
old  Age  will  not  diminish.  He  will  have  a  regard  for  your 

416 


Judgment  and  Opinion  in  matters  of  the  greatest  Weight ; 
you  will  be  able  to  entertain  each  other  without  a  Third 
Person  to  releive  you  by  finding  Discourse.  The  endow- 
ments of  your  Mind  will  even  make  your  Person  more 
agreeable  to  him  ;  and  when  you  are  alone,  your  Time  will 
not  lie  heavy  upon  your  hands  for  want  of  some  trifling 
Amusement.  .  .  . 

I  desire  you  will  keep  this  Letter  in  your  Cabinet,  and 
often  examine  impartially  your  whole  Conduct  by  it :  And 
so  God  bless  you,  and  make  you  a  fair  Example  to  your 
Sex,  and  a  perpetual  Comfort  to  your  Husband  and  your 
Parents.  JONATHAN  SWIFT 

A  Letter  to  a  Very  Young  Lady  (1727) 


THE  MOST  REFINED  PLEASURE 

How  delightful  it  is  when  the  mind  of  the  female  is  so 
happily  disposed,  and  so  richly  cultivated,  as  to  participate 
in  the  literary  avocations  of  her  husband  !  It  is  then  truly 
that  the  intercourse  of  the  sexes  becomes  the  most  refined 
pleasure.  What  delight,  for  instance,  must  the  great 
Budaeus  have  tasted.  .  .  .  His  wife  left  him  nothing  to 
desire  .  .  .  she  brought  him  the  books  he  required  to  his 
desk  ;  she  collated  passages,  and  transcribed  quotations  ; 
the  same  .  .  .  ardour  for  literature  eminently  appeared  in 
these  two  fortunate  persons.  .  .  .  She  was  sedulous  to 
animate  him  when  he  languished.  Ever  at  his  side,  and  ever 
assiduous ;  ever  with  some  useful  book  in  her  hand.  .  .  . 
Yet  she  did  not  neglect  the  education  of  eleven  children. 

ISAAC  DISRAELI 

Curiosities  of  Literature  (1791-1823) 
OP 


FAITHFUL  FISH 

The  constant  Cantharus, 
Who,  ever  faithful  to  his  dearest  Spouse, 
In  Nuptiall  Duties  spending  all  his  life, 
Loves  never  other  than  his  onely  wife. 
But,  for  her  love,  the  Mullet  hath  no  Peer  ; 
For,  if  the  Fisher  have  surpriz'd  her  Pheer, 
As  mad  with  wo  to  shore  she  followeth, 
Prest  to  consort  him  both  in  life  and  death. 
As  yerst  those  famous,  loving  Thracian  Dames 
That  leapt  alive  into  the  funerall  flames 
Of  their  dead  Husbands  ;  who  deceast  and  gone, 
Those  loyall  Wives  hated  to  live  alone. 

JOSHUA   SYLVESTER 

Divine  Weekes  and  Workes  (1592) 
Trans,  from  Guillaume  Du  Bartas 

A  RASH  VENTURE 

I  knew  your  new  brother-in-law  at  school,  but  have  not 
seen  him  since.  But  your  sister  was  in  love,  and  must  conse- 
quently be  happy  to  have  him.  Yet  I  own,  I  cannot  much 
felicitate  anybody  that  marries  for  love.  It  is  bad  enough 
to  marry  ;  but  to  marry  where  one  loves  is  ten  times  worse. 
It  is  so  charming  at  first,  that  the  decay  of  inclination 
renders  it  infinitely  more  disagreeable  afterwards.  Your 
sister  has  a  thousand  merits  ;  but  they  don't  count :  but 
then  she  has  good  sense  enough  to  make  her  happy,  if 
her  merit  cannot  make  him  so. 

HORACE  WALPOLE,  Letter  to  Horace  Mann  (1743) 
418 


MUCH  LIKE  LIFE 


Marriage  is  not  commonly  unhappy,  otherwise  than  as  life 
is  unhappy.  SAMUEL  JOHNSON,  Rambler  (1750-52) 


REMEDY  FOR  THE  SPLEEN 

MR  SOLUS  :  Now  I  think  marriage  is  an  excellent  remedy 
for  the  spleen.  I  have  known  a  Gentleman  at  a  feast 
receive  an  affront,  disguise  his  rage,  step  home,  vent  it  all 
upon  his  wife,  return  to  his  companions,  and  be  as  good 
company  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

MRS  INCHBALD,  Every  one  has  his  fault  (1793) 


METROPOLITAN 


HERRICK  BACK  IN  LONDON 

From  the  dull  confines  of  the  drooping  West, 
To  see  the  day  spring  from  the  pregnant  East, 
Ravisht  in  spirit,  I  come,  nay  more,  I  flie 
To  thee,  blest  place  of  my  Nativitie  ! 
Thus,  thus  with  hallowed  foot  I  touch  the  ground, 
O  fruitfull  Genius  !  that  bestowest  here 
An  everlasting  plenty,  yeere  by  yeere. 
419 


0  Place  \  O  People  !  Manners  !  fram'd  to  please 
All  Nations,  Customes,  Kindreds,  Languages  ! 

1  am  a  free-born  Roman  ;  suffer  then, 
That  I  amongst  you  live  a  Citizen. 

London  my  home  is  ;  though  by  hard  fate  sent 
Into  a  long  and  irksome  banishment ; 
Yet  since  caPd  back ;  henceforward  let  me  be, 
O  native  countrye,  repossest  by  thee  ! 
For,  rather  than  Fie  to  the  West  return, 
Fie  beg  of  thee  first  here  to  have  mine  Urn. 
Weak  I  am  grown,  and  must  in  short  time  fall ; 
Give  thou  my  sacred  Reliques  Buriall. 

ROBERT   HERRICK 

His  returne  to  London.  Hesperides  (1648) 


CICERO  PRAISES  ROME 

The  City,  the  City,  my  Rufus — stay  in  it  and  live  in  its 
light !  Sojourning  elsewhere,  is,  as  I  have  declared  from 
my  youth  up,  obscure  and  paltry  to  those  whose  activities 
can  make  them  illustrious  in  Rome.  CICERO 

Letter  to  M.  Caelius  Rufus  (50  B.C.) 


STILL  THE  CAPITAL  OF  THE  WORLD 

Come  to  Rome.  It  is  a  scene  by  which  expression  is  over- 
powered ;  which  words  cannot  convey.  .   .  . 

What  shall  I  say  of  the  modern  city  ?  Rome  is  yet  the 
capital  of  the  world.  It  is  a  city  of  palaces  and  temples  more 
glorious  than  those  which  any  other  city  contains,  and  of 

420 


ruins  more  glorious  than  they.  Seen  from  any  of  the  emin- 
ences that  surround  it,  it  exhibits  domes  beyond  domes, 
and  palaces,  and  colonnades  interminably,  even  to  the 
horizon  ;  interspersed  with  patches  of  desert,  and  mighty 
ruins  which  stand  girt  by  their  own  desolation,  in  the 
midst  of  the  fanes  of  living  religions,  and  the  habitations 
of  living  men,  in  sublime  loneliness.  p  B  SHELLEY 

Letter  to  T.  L.  Peacock  (1819) 


OVID  is  ROME-SICK 

In  that  place,  there  is  leisure  now,  and  the  garrulous  wars 
of  the  wordy  forum  give  place  to  the  games,  in  rapid 
succession.  Now  there  is  sport  with  horses,  now  play  with 
light  arms,  now  with  the  ball,  now  with  the  round  hoop 
that  swiftly  turns  ;  now  the  young  men,  stained  with  the 
slippery  oil,  lave  tired  limbs  in  the  water  of  Virgo.  The 
stage  is  lively,  applause  is  hot  with  zeal  and  partisanship, 
and  three  theatres  resound  instead  of  three  fora.  O  four 
times  happy,  happy  more  times  than  one  may  count,  is 
he  to  whom  is  permitted  the  enjoyment  of  the  unforbidden 
city  !  .  .  .  OVID 

Tristia.  III.  12  (9-10  A.D.) 


BEAUTY  OF  ROME 

Since  I  have  been  absent  from  you,  thrust  away  to  the 
Scythian  shores,  the  rising  of  the  Pleiades  has  brought 
four  autumns.  Do  not  think  it  is  the  conveniences  of  city 

421 


life  which  Naso  seeks — and  yet  nevertheless  he  does  seek 
them.  For  sometimes  I  recall  you  to  my  mind,  my  sweet 
friends,  at  other  times  my  dear  wife  and  daughter  :  and 
from  my  house  I  go  out  once  more  to  the  places  of  the 
lovely  city,  and  my  mind  beholds  them  all  with  its  own 
eyes.  Now  the  fora,  now  the  temples,  now  the  marble- 
cased  theatres,  now  every  colonnade  with  its  levelled 
ground,  come  into  my  thoughts  ;  now  the  grass  of  the 
Campus  that  looks  on  the  beautiful  gardens,  and  the 
pools,  and  the  moats,  and  the  stream  Virgo. 

OVID,  Ex  Ponto.  I.  8  (12-13  A.D.) 


PRETTY  WENCHES  OF  ROME 

Behold  the  populous  City  in  her  pride 
Yeelds  thee  more  choice  than  all  the  world  beside  : 
More  eares  of  ripe  Corne  grows  not  in  the  fields, 
Nor  half  so  many  boughs  the  Forrest  yeelds  ; 
So  many  greene  leaves  grow  not  in  the  Woods, 
Nor  swimme  so  many  fish  in  the  salt  floods, 
So  many  Starres  in  heaven  you  cannot  see, 
As  here  be  pretty  wenches,  Rome,  in  thee. 

OVID,  Ars  Amatoria  (c.  2  B.C.) 
Trans.  Wye  Saltonstall  (1639) 


PARIS 

MASCARILLE  :  Well,  ladies,  what  do  you  say  of  Paris  ? 
MADELON  :  Alas  !  what  can  we  say  of  it  ?  It  would  be 
against  all  reason  not  to  confess  that  Paris  is  the  great 

422 


bureau  of  marvels,  the  centre  of  good  taste,  of  wit,  and 

of  gallantry. 

MASCARILLE  :  As  for  me,  I  hold  that  outside  Paris  there 

is  no  well-being  for  genteel  people. 

CATHOS  :  It's  an  incontestable  truth. 

MADELON  :  It's  rather  dirty,  but  we  have  the  chair. 

JEAN  BAPTISTE  MOLlfeRE 
Les  Precieuses  Ridicules  (1659) 


ELEGANCE  OF  PARIS 


My  Dearest  Friend, 

And  do  I  really  address  you  from  Paris  ?  Am  I  at  this 
moment  a  denizen  of  the  far-famed  queen  of  arts  and  arms 
— the  centre  of  all  that  is  refined  and  estimable  ? — 

The  glass  of  fashion  and  the  mould  of  form, 
The  observed  of  all  observers  ! — 

I  am  dizzy  with  the  thought  !  .  .  . 

Only  think  how  charming  the  way  of  life  here  !  For 
every  meal,  separate  establishments,  and  all  fitted  up  with 
that  united  elegance  and  splendour  which  none  but  Paris- 
ians understand.  Here  is  the  Cafe  des  Milles  Colonnes,  with 
its  flashing  radiance  of  gold  and  glass ! — its  host  of  waiters, 
swift  and  silent  as  attendant  spirits  !  .  .  .  and  then  the 
company ! —  ...  Of  these  enchanted  spots  there  are  many 
hundreds,  and  also  of  Restaurateurs,  where  luxury  assumes 
her  most  seductive  form,  and  eating  is  no  longer  a  vulgar 
appetite.  Fancy  your  friend  choosing  her  dinner  from  a 
carte  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  dishes !  And  then  their  names 
so  different  from  your  low  plough-boy  English  ones — 

423 


<c  boiled  beef  and  greens  " !  "  roast  goose  and  apple  sauce  " ! 
horrid  !  I  am  sure  after  poulet  nouveau  en  fricassee — 
pigeons  de  voliere  aux  points  d'asperges — omelette  soufflee  and 
beignets  d'abricot,  I  shall  never  bear  to  pronounce,  much 
less  partake  of,  the  gross  aliments  of  our  own  country. 

But  the  Louvre,  my  dear  creature,  with  its  "  Parian 
stairs  "  and  names  imperial — the  "  Hall  of  the  Em- 
perors " ;  the  "  Hall  of  the  Seasons  "  ;  the  "  Hall  of  the 
Romans."  Don't  you  feel  your  mind  elevated  while  pro- 
nouncing them  ?  And  then  the  interminable  gallery  itself, 
with  its  imperishable  records  of  artists  now  in  the  cold 
grave  !  I  am  bewildered  like  JEve  among  the  flowers  of 
Paradise.  .  .  . 

But  to  return  to  Paris,  chere,  chere  Paris  !  I  have  been 
here  but  a  fortnight,  but  I  already  feel  my  mind  pro- 
digiously expanded.  .  .  .  What,  my  dear  friend,  can  that 
person  know  of  elegance,  who  has  never  seen  the  Palais 
Royal  with  its  boutiques  and  bijouterie  ? 

MARIA  JANE  JEWSBURY 

Phantasmagoria  (1825) 


FLORENCE 

I  have  crept  on  upon  time  from  day  to  day  here  ;  fond  of 
Florence  to  a  degree  :  'tis  infinitely  the  most  agreeable  of 
all  the  places  I  have  seen  since  London  :  that  you  know 
one  loves,  right  or  wrong,  as  one  does  one's  nurse.  Our 
little  Arno  is  not  boated  and  swelling  like  the  Thames,  but 
'tis  vastly  pretty,  and,  I  don't  know  how,  being  Italian, 
has  something  visionary  and  poetical  in  its  stream.  Then 
One's  unwilling  to  leave  the  gallery,  and — but — in  short, 

424 


LC'S  unwilling  to  get  into  a  post-chaise.  I  am  as  surfeited 
th  mountains  and  inns,  as  if  I  had  eat  them. 

HORACE  WALPOLE,  Letter  to  Henry  Conway  (1740) 


MANHATTAN 

ity  of  orgies,  walks  and  joys, 

ity  whom  I  that  have  lived  and  sung  in  your  midst  will 

one  day  make  you  illustrious, 
ot  the  pageants  of  you,  not  your  shifting  tableaux,  your 

spectacles,  repay  me, 
ot  the  interminable  rows  of  your  houses,  nor  the  ships 

at  the  wharves, 
or  the  processions  in  the  street,  nor  the  bright  windows 

with  goods  in  them, 
or  to  converse  with  learn'd  persons,  or  bear  my  share  in 

the  soiree  or  feast ; 
ot  those,  but  as  I  pass,  O  Manhattan,  your  frequent 

and  swift  flash  of  eyes  offering  me  love, 
ffering  response  to  my  own — these  repay  me, 
overs,  continual  lovers,  only  repay  me.     ^ 

WALT  WHITMAN,  City  of  Orgies  (1855) 


BOSTON 

I  come  from  the  city  of  Boston, 
The  home  of  the  bean  and  the  cod, 
Where  Cabots  speak  only  to  Lowells, 
And  Lowells  speak  only  to  God. 

SAMUEL  C.  BUSHNELL  (l9th  Cent.) 

425 


PARADISE  FOR  WIVES 

MRS  SULLEN  :   London.,  dear  London,  is  the  place  for 
managing  and  breaking  a  Husband. 
DORINDA  :  And  has  not  a  Husband  the  same  opportunities 
there  for  humbling  a  Wife  ? 

MRS  SUL  :  No,  no.  Child,  'tis  a  standing  Maxim  in  Con- 
jugal Discipline,  that  when  a  Man  wou'd  enslave  his 
Wife,  he  hurries  her  into  the  Country ;  and  when  a  Lady 
wou'd  be  arbitrary  with  her  Husband,  she  wheedles  her 
Booby  up  to  Town. — A  Man  dare  not  play  the  Tyrant 
in  London,  because  there  are  so  many  Examples  to  en- 
courage the  Subject  to  rebel.  O  Dorinda,  Dorinda  \  a  fine 
Woman  may  do  any  thing  in  London  :  O'  my  Conscience, 
she  may  raise  an  Army  of  Forty  thousand  Men. 

GEORGE   FARQUHAR 
The  Beaux'  Stratagem  (1707) 


RETURN  TO  TOWN 

COURT  ALL  :  Only  my  joy  to  see  you,  Sir  Oliver,  and  to 
welcome  you  to  Town. 

SIR  OLIVER  :  Methinks,  indeed,  I  have  been  an  age  absent, 
but  I  intend  to  redeem  the  time :  and  how  and  how  stand 
Affairs,  prithee  now  ?  is  the  Wine  good  ?  are  the  Women 
kind  ?  Well,  faith,  a  man  had  better  be  a  vagabond  in  this 
Town,  than  a  Justice  of  Peace  in  the  Country  :  I  was  e'ne 
grown  a  Sot  for  want  of  Gentlemanlike  recreations. 

SIR   GEORGE   ETHEREGE 

She  wou'd  if  she  cou'd  (1668) 
426 


GOODLY  LONDON 

0  more  than  mortal!  man,  that  did  this  Towne  begin  ! 
Whose  knowledge  found  the  plot,  so  fit  to  set  it  in. 
What  God,  or  heavenly  power  was  harbourd  in  thy 

breast, 
From  whom  with  such  successe  thy  labours  should  be 

blest  ? 

Built  on  a  rising  Bank,  within  a  Vale  to  stand,  SSitSS? 

And  for  thy  healthfull  soyle,  chose  gravell  niixt  withLondon- 

sand.  . .  . 

And  to  the  North  and  South,  upon  an  equall  reach, 
Two  Hils  their  even  Banks  do  somewhat  seeme  to  stretch, 
Those  two  extreamer  Winds  from  hurting  it  to  let ; 
And  only  levell  lies,  upon  the  Rise  and  Set. 
Of  all  this  goodly  Ile^  where  breathes  most  cheerefull 

aire, 

And  every  way  there-to  the  wayes  most  smooth  and  faire  ; 
As  in  the  fittest  place,  by  man  that  could  be  thought, 
To  which  by  Land,  or  Sea,  provision  might  be  brought. 
And  such  a  Road  for  Ships  scarce  all  the  world  commands, 
As  is  the  goodly  Tames,  neer  where  Brute's  City  stands. 
Nor  any  Haven  lies  to  which  is  more  resort, 
Commodities  to  bring,  as  also  to  transport. 

MICHAEL  DRAYTON 

Poly-Olbion.  Song  XVI  (1613) 


STREETS  AND  LIFE 

Streets,   streets,   streets,   markets,   theatres,   churches, 
Covent  Gardens,  shops  sparkling  with  pretty  faces  of 

427 


industrious  milliners,  neat  sempstresses,  ladies  cheapen- 
ing, gentlemen  behind  counters  lying,  authors  in  the 
street  with  spectacles,  George  Dyers  (you  may  know 
them  by  their  gait),  lamps  lit  at  night,  pastrycooks'  and 
silversmiths'  shops,  beautiful  Quakers  of  Pentonville, 
noise  of  coaches,  drowsy  cry  of  watchmen  at  night,  with 
bucks  reeling  home  drunk ;  if  you  happen  to  wake  at 
midnight,  cries  of  "  Fire  !  "  and  "  Stop  thief!  "  inns  of 
court,  with  their  learned  air,  and  halls,  and  butteries, 
just  like  Cambridge  colleges ;  old  book-stalls,  "  Jeremy 
Taylors,"  "  Burtons  on  Melancholy,"  and  "  Religio 
Medicis  "  on  every  stall.  These  are  thy  pleasures,  O 
London,  with  thy  many  sins.  O  City,  abounding  in  w  . .  . , 
for  these  may  Keswick  and  her  giant  brood  go  hang  ! 

CHARLES   LAMB 

Letter  to  Thomas  Manning  (1800) 


ITALIAN  CITY 

Had  I  but  plenty  of  money,  money  enough  and  to  spare. 
The  house  for  me,  no  doubt,  were  a  house  in  the  city- 
square  ; 

Ah,  such  a  life,  such  a  life,  as  one  leads  at  the  window 
there ; 

Something  to  see,  by  Bacchus,  something  to  hear,  at 

least ! 

There,  the  whole  day  long,  one's  life  is  a  perfect  feast ; 
While  up  at  a  villa  one  lives,  I  maintain  it,  no  more  than  a 

beast.  .  .  . 

428 


But  the  city,  oh  the  city — the  square  with  the  houses ! 

Why  ?  .  .  . 
You  watch  who  crosses  and  gossips,  who  saunters,  who 

hurries  by ; 
Green  blinds,  as  a  matter  of  course,  to  draw  when  the  sun 

gets  high ; 
And  the  shops  with  fanciful  signs  which  are  painted 

properly.  .  .  . 

Is  it  ever  hot  in  the  square  ?  There's  a  fountain  to  spout 
and  splash  ! 

In  the  shade  it  sings  and  springs  ;  in  the  shine  such  foam- 
bows  flash 

On  the  horses  with  curling  fish-tails,  that  prance  and 
paddle  and  pash 

Round  the  lady  atop  in  her  conch — fifty  gazers  do  not 
abash, 

Though  all  that  she  wears  is  some  weeds  round  her  waist 
in  a  sort  of  sash.  .  .  . 

Ere  you  open  your  eyes  in  the  city,  the  blessed  church- 
bells  begin  : 

No  sooner  the  bells  leave  otf  than  the  diligence  rattles  in  : 

You  get  the  pick  of  the  news,  and  it  costs  you  never  a 
pin. 

By  and  by  there's  the  travelling  doctor  gives  pills,  lets 
blood,  draws  teeth ; 

Or  the  Pulcinello-trumpet  breaks  up  the  market  beneath. 
At  the  post-office  such  a  scene-picture — the  new  play, 

piping  hot ! 
And  a  notice  how,  only  this  morning,  three  liberal  thieves 

were  shot. 

429 


Above  it,  behold    the   Archbishop's    most   fatherly   of 

rebukes. 
And  beneath,  with  his  crown  and  his  lion,  some  little 

new  law  of  the  Duke's  !  .  .  . 

Noon  strikes, — here  sweeps  the  procession  !  Our  Lady 

borne  smiling  and  smart 
With  a  pink  gauze  gown  all  spangles,  and  seven  swords 

stuck  in  her  heart ! 
Bang-whang-whang  goes   the   drum,    tootle-te-tootle   the 

fife; 
No  keeping  one's  haunches  still :  it's  the  greatest  pleasure 

in  life.  .  .  . 

Look,  two  and  two  go  the  priests,  then  the  monks  with 

cowls  and  sandals, 
And  the  penitents  dressed  in  white  shirts,  a-holding  the 

yellow  candles  ; 
One,  he  carries  a  flag  up  straight,  and  another  a  cross 

with  handles, 
And  the  Duke's  guard  brings  up  the  rear,  for  the  better 

prevention  of  scandals  : 

Bang-whang-whang  goes  the  drum,  tootle-te-tootle  the  fife. 
Oh,  a  day  in  the  city-square,  there  is  no  such  pleasure  in 

life! 

ROBERT  BROWNING 
Up  at  a  Villa — Down  in  the  City  (1842) 


430 


ODIUM  THEOLOGICUM 


DISLIKING  PRELATES 

Now  I  appeale  to  all  wise  men,  what  an  excessive  wast 
of  Treasury  hath  beene  within  these  few  yeares  in  this 
Land  ...  in  the  Idolatrous  erection  of  Temples  beautified 
exquisitely  to  out-vie  the  Papists,  the  costly  and  deare- 
bought  Scandals,  and  snares  of  Images,  Pictures,  rich 
coaps,  gorgeous  Altar-clothes.  .  .  .  What  can  we  suppose 
this  will  come  to  ?  What  other  materials  then  these  have 
built  up  the  spirituall  BABEL  to  the  heighth  of  her  Abomin- 
ations ?  .  .  .  The  soure  levin  of  humane  Tradition  mixt  in 
one  putrified  Masse  with  the  poisonous  dregs  of  hypoc- 
risie  in  the  hearts  of  Prelates  that  lye  basking  in  the  Sunny 
warmth  of  Wealth  and  promotion,  is  the  Serpents  Egge 
that  will  hatch  an  Antichrist  wheresoever,  and  ingender 
the  same  Monster  as  big,  or  as  little  as  the  Lump  is  which 
breeds  him.  If  the  splendor  of  Gold  and  Silver  begin  to 
Lord  it  once  againe  in  the  Church  of  England,  wee  shall 
see  Antichrist  shortly  wallow  here,  though  his  cheife 
Kennell  be  at  Rome.  If  they  had  one  thought  upon  God's 
glory  and  the  advancement  of  Christian  Faith,  they  would 
be  a  meanes  that  with  these  expences  thus  profusely 
throwne  away  in  trash,  rather  Churches  and  Schools  might 
be  built,  where  they  cry  out  for  want  ...  a  moderate 
maintenance  distributed  to  every  painfull  Minister,  that 

431 


now  scarse  sustaines  his  Family  with  Bread,  while  the 
Prelats  revell  like  Belshazzar  with  their  full  carouses  in 
Goblets,  and  vessels  of  gold  snacht  from  God*s  Temple.  .  .  . 

These  devout  Prelates,  spight  of  our  great  Charter, 
and  the  soules  of  our  Progenitors  that  wrested  their  liber- 
ties out  of  the  Norman  gripe  with  their  dearest  blood  and 
highest  prowesse,  for  these  many  years  have  not  ceas't  in 
their  Pulpits  wrinching  and  spraining  the  text,  to  set  at 
nought  and  trample  under  foot  all  the  most  sacred  and  life 
blood  Lawes,  Statutes  and  Acts  of  Parliament ...  by  pro- 
scribing and  confiscating  from  us  all  the  right  we  have  to 
our  owne  bodies,  goods  and  liberties.  What  is  this,  but  to 
blow  a  trumpet,  and  proclaime  a  hereditary  and  perpetuall 
civill  warre.  .  .  . 

Most  certaine  it  is  (as  all  our  Stories  beare  witnesse) 
that  ever  since  their  coming  to  the  See  of  Canterbury  for 
neere  twelve  hundred  yeares,  to  speak  of  them  [the 
bishops]  in  generall,  they  have  beene  in  England  to  our 
Soules  a  sad  and  dolefull  succession  of  illiterate  and  blind 
guides  :  to  our  purposes  and  goods  a  wastfull  band  of 
robbers,  a  perpetuall  havock  and  rapine :  To  our  state  a 
continuall  Hydra  of  mischiefe  and  molestation,  the  forge 
of  discord  and  rebellion  .  .  . 

O  let  them  not  bring  about  their  damned  designes  that 
stand  now  at  the  entrance  of  the  bottomlesse  pit  expect- 
ing the  Watch-word  to  open  and  let  out  those  dreadfull 
Locusts  and  Scorpions,  to  re-involve  us  in  that  pitchy  Cloud 
of  infernall  darknes,  where  we  shall  never  more  see  the 
Sunne  of  the  Truth  againe,  never  hope  for  the  cheerfull 
dawne,  never  more  heare  the  Bird  of  Morning  sing.  .  .  . 

But  they  contrary  .  .  .  after  a  shamefull  end  in  this 
Life  (which  God  grant  them)  shall  be  throwne  eternally 
into  the  darkest  and  deepest  Gulfe  of  HELL,  where  under 

432 


the  despightfull  controule,  the  trample  and  spume  of  all 
the  other  Damned,  that  in  the  anguish  of  their  Torture 
shall  have  no  other  ease  then  to  exercise  a  Raving  and 
Bestiall  Tyranny  over  them  as  their  Slaves  and  Negro's, 
they  shall  remaine  in  that  plight  for  ever,  the  basest,  the 
lowermost,  the  most  dejected,  most  underfoot  and  downe- 
trodden  Vassals  of  Perdition. 

JOHN  MILTON,  Of  Reformation  in  England  (1641) 


DISLIKING  THE  FATHERS 

Whatsoever  time,  or  the  heedlesse  hand  of  blind  chance, 
hath  drawne  down  from  of  old  to  this  present,  in  her  huge 
dragnet,  whether  Fish,  or  Sea- Weed,  Shells,  or  Shrubbs, 
unpickt,  unchosen,  those  are  the  Fathers. 

JOHN  MILTON,  Of  Prelatical  Episcopacy  (1641) 


DISLIKING  BISHOPS 

She  [Katherine  Philips]  was  when  a  child  much  against 
the  bishops,  and  prayd  to  God  to  take  them  to  him. 

JOHN  AUBREY,  Brief  Lives  :  Katherine  Philips  (c.  1680) 


THEOLOGIANS  DISLIKING  ONE  ANOTHER 

Then  he  went  into  his  owne  country,  to  Beaudley  (a 
market-towne)  at  which  time  Mr  Baxter  (his  antagonist) 
preacht  at  Kidderminster,  the  next  market-towne,  two 

433 


miles  distant.  They  preacht  against  one  another's  doc- 
trines, and  printed  against  each  other.  Mr  Tombes  was  the 
Coryphaeus  of  the  Anabaptists  :  both  had  great  audience  ; 
they  went  severall  miles  on  foot  to  each  doctor.  Once  (I 
thinke  oftner)  they  disputed  face  to  face,  and  the  followers 
were  like  two  armies,  about  1500  of  a  party;  and  truly  at 
last  they  fell  by  the  eares,  hurt  was  donne,  and  the  civill 
magistrate  had  much  adoe  to  quiet  them.  r,  • » 

John  Tombes  (c.  1680) 


DISLIKING  JESUIT  MATHEMATICAL  BOOKS 

In  Sir  Charles  Scarborough's  time  (he  was  of  Caius 
College)  Dr  Batchcroft  (the  head  of  that  house)  would  visit 
the  boyes  chambers,  and  see  what  they  were  studying ; 
and  Charles  Scarborough's  genius  let  him  to  the  mathe- 
matics, and  he  was  wont  to  be  reading  of  Clavius  upon 
Euclid.  The  old  Dr.  had  found  in  the  title  "  e  Societate 
Jesu"  and  was  much  scandalized  at  it.  Sayd  he,  "  By  all 
meanes  leave-off  this  author,  and  read  Protestant  mathe- 
maticall  bookes."  «  ^ 

Thomas  Batchcroft 


DISLIKING  ROMAN  CATHOLICISM 

The  retaining  of  this  Romish  Liturgy  is  a  provocation  to 
God  and  a  dishonour  to  our  Church.  ...  If  we  have  in- 
deed given  a  Bill  of  Divorce  to  Popery  and  Superstition, 

434 


why  do  wee  not  say,  as  to  a  divors't  wife,  those  things 
which  are  yours  take  them  all  with  you,  and  they  shall 
sweepe  after  you  ?  Why  were  we  not  thus  wise  at  our 
parting  from  Rome  ?  Ah  !  like  a  crafty  adulteresse,  she 
forgot  nor  all  her  smooth  looks  and  inticing  words  at  her 
parting :  Yet  keep  these  letters,  these  tokens,  and  these  few 
ornaments.  .  .  .  Thus  did  those  tenderhearted  reformers 
dotingly  suffer  themselves  to  be  overcome  with  harlot's 
language.  .  .  .  For  we  are  deepe  in  dotage. 

JOHN   MILTON 

An  Apology  for  Smectymnuus  (1642) 


From  an  Usurping  Vice-Christ,  whose  ambition  is  so 
boundless  as  to  extend  to  the  Prophetical,  Priestly,  and 
Kingly  Headship,  over  all  the  Earth.  .  .  .  From  a  Leprous 
Sect,  which  Condemneth  the  far  greatest  part  of  all 
Christ's  Church  on  Earth,  and  calleth  itself  the  whole  and 
only  Church  :  From  that  Church  that  decreeth  Destruc- 
tion, to  all  that  renounce  not  humane  Sense  .  .  .  and  that 
decreeth  the  Excommunication,  Deposition,  and  Damna- 
tion, of  all  Princes  that  will  not  exterminate  all  such:  and 
absolveth  their  Subjects  from  their  Oaths  of  Allegiance  : 
From  that  Beast  whose  Mark  is  Perjury,  Perfidioi4sness,  and 
Persecution,  and  that  think  they  do  God  acceptable  Service 
by  killing  his  Servants,  or  tormenting  them.  .  .  .  From 
the  infernal  Dragon,  the  Father  of  Lies,  Malice  and 
Murder,  and  all  their  Ministers  and  Kingdom  of  Dark- 
ness, Good  Lord  make  haste  to  deliver  thy  Flock. 

RICHARD  BAXTER 

The  Protestant  Religion  Truely  Stated  and  Justified 

(Pub.  1692) 

435 


As  to  Popery  .  .  .  which  for  a  thousand  years  past  hath 
been  introducing  and  multiplying  corruptions  both  in 
doctrine  and  discipline,  I  look  upon  it  to  be  the  most  ab- 
surd system  of  Christianity  professed  by  any  nation.  But 
I  cannot  apprehend  this  kingdom  to  be  in  much  danger 
from  it.  ...  Their  common  people  are  sunk  in  poverty, 
ignorance  and  cowardice,  and  of  as  little  consequence  as 
women  and  children.  JONATHAN  SWIFT 

The  Presbyterians'  Plea  of  Merit  in  order  to  take  off  the 
Test  impartially  examined  (1733) 


DISLIKING  PROTESTANTS 

If  we  give  any  credit  to  this  picture  of  Anne  Boleyn,  she 
was  a  lady  of  neither  spirit  nor  beauty.  Yet  she  had  both. 
I  am  apt  to  think  it  is  a  burlesque  upon  her.  It  may  be, 
'twas  done  at  the  expence  and  by  the  direction  of  a 
Roman  Catholic.  We  know  Roman  Catholics  hate  her 
mortally,  and  therefore  it  is  no  wonder  that  she  should  be 
represented  as  a  woman  of  no  beauty  or  accomplishments. 
THOMAS  HEARNE,  Diary  (June  10,  1718) 


DISLIKING  DISSENTERS 

jc.         Honred  Old  friend, 

I  must  not  omitt  giveing  you  an  accompt  of  Mr. 

Baxter's  tryall,  lately  at  Guild-Hall  before  Sr  George 

Jeffery's  our  now  Lord  Chief  Justice,  where  you'l  find  him 

declaimeing  violently,  upon  the  common  theam  of  his 

436 


ownc  ignorance,  and  putrid  mallice,  against  that  most 
excelent  saint,  and  grave  minister  of  Christ,  Mr.  Baxter. 
When  I  saw  the  meeke  man  stand  before  the  flameing 
eyes,  and  feirce  look's  of  this  Biggott,  I  thought  of  Paul 
standing  before  Nero  .  .  .  you'l  see  him  driveing  on 
furiously,  like  the  Great  Hanebal  makeing  his  way  Over 
the  alps  with  fire  and  vinegar,  pouring  all  the  contempt 
and  scorn  upon  him,  as  if  he  had  bin  a  link  boy,  or 
rake  kennel,  .  .  . 

LORD  C.  J. :  Oy  is  not  this  now  an  old  knave.  .  .  .  Lord, 
we  are  thy  people,  thy  peculiar  people,  thy  Dear  people, 
etc., — and  then  he  snorts  and  speaks  thro'  the  nose,  and 
clenches  his  hands,  and  lifts  up  his  gogle  eyes,  in  a  mimi- 
call  way,  runing  on  furiously  as  he  saith  they  use  to  pray  : 
But  old  Pollixfin  [Baxter's  counsel]  gave  him  a  bite  now 
and  then,  tho'  he  could  hardly  crowd  in  a  word. 

POLL.  :  Why  some  tel  you  my  lord  tis  hard  measure  to 
stop  up  these  mens  mouths  and  yet  not  suffer  them  to 
speak  thro'  the  nose. 

LORD  C.  J. :  Pollixfin  I  know  you  well  enough,  and  He  set 
a  mark  upon  you,  for  you  are  the  patron  for  the  faction, 
this  is  an  old  Rogue  and  hath  poyson'd  the  world  with 
his  Kederminster  Doctrine  :  ...  an  old  sismaticall  knave, 
an  hipocritticall  villain. 

POLL  :  I  beseech  your  lordship  suffer  me  a  word  for  my 
Clyent :  tis  well  known  to  all  intelligable  men  of  age  of 
this  Nation,  that  these  things  agree  not  at  all  to  the 
carracter  of  Mr  Baxter,  .  .  .  and,  my  lords,  Mr.  Baxter's 
loyall  and  peaceable  spirit  King  Charles  the  2d  woud 
have  rewarded  with  a  Bishoprick,  when  he  came  in,  if  he 
could  have  conformed, 

LORD  C.  J. :  Oy  oy  we  know  that  but  what  ail'd  the  old 

437 


stockcole  unthankfull  villain,  that  he  could  not  conforme 
— was  he  better  or  wiser  then  other  men  ?  He  hath  been 
ever  since  the  spring  of  the  faction,  I  am  sure  he  hath 
poyson'd  the  world  with  his  lincee-wolsie  doctrin :  .  .  . 
a  conceited,  stuborn,  fanaticall  dog,  that  did  not  conforme 
when  he  might  have  been  prefer'd,  hang  him  this  one 
old  fellow,  hath  cast  more  reproch  upon  the  constitution 
and  excelent  discipline  of  our  Church,  then  will  be  wip'd 
of  this  hundred  years,  but  He  handle  him  for  it,  for  by 
God  he  deserves  to  be  whipt  thro  the  city. 

POLL  :  My  lord,  I  am  sure  these  things  are  not  ad  rem  : . . . 

LORD  C.  J. :  But  He  handle  him  well  enough,  Fie  warrant 
you.  .  .  .  Come  you,  what  do  you  say  for  your  self,  you 
old  knave,  come  speak  up  :  what  doth  he  say  :  I  am  not 
afraid  of  you  for  all  the  sniveling  calves  that  are  got  about 
you. 

MR.  BAXTER  :  Your  lordship  need  not,  for  I  will  not  hurt 
you. 

Mr.  Rotherham  urg'd  .  .  .  that  Baxter  .  .  .  had 
spoken  very  moderately  and  honourably  of  the  Bishops 
of  the  Church  of  England.  .  .  . 

BAXTER  for  Bishops,  says  JEFFREYS,  that's  a  merry 
conceit  indeed  .  .  .  Ay,  This  is  your  Presbyterian  Cant; 
truly  call'd  to  be  Bishops,  that  is  himself  and  such  Rascals, 
call'd  to  be  Bishops  of  Kidderminster,  and  other  such 
Places.  Bishops  set  apart  by  such  Factious,  Sniveling 
Presbyterians  as  himself ;  a  Kidderminster  Bishop  he 
means. 

[Mortice]  Baxter  himselfe  desired  leave  to  speake,  the  Lord  Chief 
Justice  said  Richard,  Richard,  dost  thou  think  wee  will 
incur  the  danger  of  being  at  a  Conventicle  to  heare 
thee  preach,  thou  hast  infected  the  kingdome  and  now 

438 


wouldst  infect  this  Court,  with  thy  Kederminster  stuff. 
.  .  .  Richard  thou  art  an  old  Fellow,  an  Old  Knave  ;t 
thou  hast  written  Books  eno'  to  Load  a  Cart,  every  one 
as  full  of  Sedition  (I  might  say  Treason)  as  in  Egg  is  full 
of  Meat.  Hadst  thou  been  whipp'd  out  of  thy  Writing 
Trade,  Forty  Years  ago,  it  had  been  happy  .  .  .  but  by 
the  Grace  of  God  I'll  look  after  thee  ...  by  the  Grace  of 
Almighty  God  I'll  Crush  you  all. 

Richard  Baxter's  Trial.  Letter  from  J.  C.  (1685) 
Entring  Book  of  J.  Mortice  (30th  May,  1685)  and 
Life  of  Baxter  by  Edmund  Calamy  (1702) 


We  have  an  account  from  Whitechurch,  in  Shropshire, 
that  the  dissenters  there  having  prepared  a  great  quantity 
of  bricks  to  erect  a  capacious  conventicle,  a  destroying  An- 
gel came  by  night  and  spoyled  them  all,  and  confounded 
their  Babel  in  the  beginning,  to  their  great  mortification. 
THOMAS  HEARNE,  Diary  (Aug.  6,  1706) 


Almost  every  evening  during  the  latter  part  of  this 
winter  [1792]  there  were  riotous  assemblages,  and  the 
windows  of  many  of  the  Dissenters  were  broken.  A  very 
numerous  mob  collected  one  evening,  who  after  breaking 
several  windows,  did  great  injury  to  the  Meeting-House. 
.  .  .  The  Rev.  George  Whitmore,  Tutor  of  the  above 
College  [St  John's]  thought  more  favourably  of  the  con- 
duct of  the  mob.  Addressing  his  pupils  next  morning 
...  he  expressed  a  hope  that  none  of  them  had  joined  in 
the  disturbance,  which  he  was  pleased  to  designate  "  A 

LAUDABLE  EBULLITION  OF  JUSTIFIABLE  ZEAL  !  "  .  .  . 

439 


Sir  Busick  Harwood  .  .  .  made  the  following  remark  : 
"  In  general,  every  man  ought  to  be  considered  honest 
until  he  has  proved  himself  a  rogue  ;  but  with  Dissenters, 
the  maxim  should  be  reversed,  and  every  Dissenter  should 
be  considered  a  rogue,  until  he  had  proved  himself  an 
honest  man.  HENRY  GUNNING 

Reminiscences  of  Cambridge  (1852) 


Lord  Eldon  has  the  following  reminiscence  of  this  visit : 
"  I  had  a  walk  in  New  Inn  Hall  Garden  with  Dr  John- 
son and  Sir  Robert  Chambers.  Sir  Robert  was  gathering 
snails,  and  throwing  them  over  the  wall  into  his  neighbour's 
garden.  The  Doctor  reproached  him  very  roughly,  and 
stated  to  him  that  this  was  unmannerly  and  unneighbourly. 
"  Sir,"  said  Sir  Robert,  "  my  neighbour  is  a  Dissenter." 
"  Oh  !  "  said  the  Doctor ;  "  if  so,  Chambers,  toss  away, 
toss  away,  as  hard  as  you  can."  GEORGE  BIRKBECK  HILL 
Note!  o  BosweWs  Life  of  Johnson  (1887) 


DISLIKING  METHODISTS 

I  talked  of  the  recent  expulsion  of  six  students  from  the 
University  of  Oxford,  who  were  Methodists,  and  would 
not  desist  from  publickly  praying  and  exhorting.  JOHN- 
SON :  "  Sir,  that  expulsion  was  extremely  right  and  proper. 
What  have  they  to  do  at  an  University  who  are  not  willing 
to  be  taught,  but  will  presume  to  teach  ?  Where  is  religion 
to  be  learnt  but  at  an  University?  Sir,  they  were  ex- 
amined, and  found  to  be  mighty  ignorant  fellows."  BOS- 
WELL  :  "  But  was  it  not  hard,  Sir,  to  expel  them,  for  I 

440 


am  told  they  were  good  beings  ? "  JOHNSON  :  "  I 
believe  they  might  be  good  beings  ;  but  they  were  not  fit 
to  be  in  the  University  of  Oxford.  A  cow  is  a  very  good 
animal  in  the  field ;  but  we  turn  her  out  of  a  garden." 
Lord  Elibank  used  to  repeat  this  as  an  illustration  un- 
commonly happy.  JAMES  BOSWELL 

Life  of  Johnson  (1791) 


DISLIKING  PRESBYTERIANS 

That   diabolical    fanatick    Sect   which   then   destroyed 

Church  and  State.  JONATHAN  SWIFT 

Note  written  in  Heylin's  History  of  Presbyterians  (1728) 


Characteristics  of  the  Presbyterians  and  Independents 
1659:  Manners;  factious,  saucy,  and  some  impudent  and 
conceited,  morose, . . .  false,  factious  in  college,  and  delight- 
ing in  petty  plots  .  .  . 

They  would  avoid  a  taverne  and  ale-house,  but  yet  send 
for  their  commodities  to  their  respective  chambers  and 
tiple  and  smoake  till  they  were  over-taken  with  the  crea- 
ture  Some  I  confess  did  venture,  but  then  if  overtaken 

would  in  their  way  home  counterfeit  a  lameness  or  that 
some  suddaine  paine  came  upon  them.  .  .  .  Many  also 
of  them  that  were  the  sons  of  upstart  gentlemen,  such  as 
that  had  got  the  good  places  into  their  hands  belonging 
to  the  lawcourts  and  had  bought  the  lands  of  the  clergy 
and  gentry,  were  generally  very  proud,  saucy,  impudent. 

ANTHONY  WOOD 

Life  and  Times 
441 


An  age  given  over  to  all  vice — whores  and  harlots,  pimps 
and  panders,  bauds  and  buffoons,  lechery  and  treachery, 
atheists  and  papists,  rogues  and  rascalls,  reason  and  trea- 
son, playmakers  and  stage  players,  officers  debauched  and 
corrupters  .  .  .  aggravated  and  promoted  by  presbytery. 

Ibid.  (1667) 


Covenanters  and  presbyterians  have  been  the  ruine  of 
many  families,  the  authour  of  bloodshed,  the  causes  of 
decay  of  common  honesty ;  and  from  their  base  dealings 
wee  see  how  the  former  pietie  and  plaine  dealing  of  this 
nation  is  turned  into  cruelty  and  cunning.  IZAAK  WALTON 
Life  of  Bishop  Sanderson  (1678) 


DONATISTS  DISLIKING  CATHOLICS 

Is  it  not  so  that  at  Hippo,  where  I  am,  there  are  those  who 
remember  that  your  Faustinus,  in  the  time  of  his  authority, 
ordered  that,  since  there  were  very  few  Catholics  here, 
no-one  should  bake  their  bread  for  them,  so  that  a  baker, 
who  was  the  lodger  of  one  of  our  deacons,  threw  away  his 
landlord's  bread  unbaked  ?  ST  AUGUSTINE 

Scripta  contra  Donatistas.  (Part  II.  Book  II.  c.  83) 


DISLIKING  THE  ENGLISH  PRAYER-BOOK 

To  contend  that  it  is  fantastical!,  if  not  senselesse  in  some 
places,  were  a  copious  argument.  .  .  .  The  like,  or  worse, 
may  be  said  of  the  Litany,  wherin  neither  priest  nor 

442 


people  speak  any  intire  sense  of  them  selves  throughout 
the  whole . . .  they  keep  life  between  them  in  piece  of  gasp- 
ing sense,  and  keep  down  the  saucinesse  of  a  continual! 
rebounding  non-sense  ...  we  all  know  it  hath  bin  obvious 
to  be  the  pattern  of  many  a  jig.  And  he  who  hath  but 
read  in  good  books  of  devotion  .  .  .  will  presently  perceave 
this  Liturgy  all  over  in  conception  leane  and  dry,  of  affec- 
tions empty  and  unmoving ;  of  passion,  or  any  heighth 
wherto  the  soule  might  soar  upon  the  wings  of  zeale, 
destitute  and  barren  besides  errors,  tautologies,  impertin- 
encies,  as  those  thanks  in  woman's  churching  in  her 
delivery  from  sun-burning  and  moon-blasting,  as  if  she 
had  bin  travailing  not  in  her  bed,  but  in  the  deserts  of 
Arabia. 

So  that  while  some  men  cease  not  to  admire  the  incom- 
parable frame  of  our  Liturgy,  I  cannot  but  admire  as 
fast  what  they  think  is  become  of  judgment  and  tast  in 
other  men,  that  they  can  hope  to  be  heard  without  laugh- 
ter. .  .  .  But  when  we  remember  this  our  Liturgy,  where 
we  found  it,  whence  we  had  it  ...  it  may  be  wondered 
how  we  can  demurre  whether  it  should  be  done  away  or 
no,  and  not  rather  fear  we  have  highly  offended  in  using  it 
so  long.  It  hath  indeed  bin  pretended  to  be  more  ancient 
then  the  Masse  .  .  .  but  so  little  proved  that  .  .  .  having 
receav'd  it  from  the  Papall  Church  as  an  originall  creature, 
for  aught  can  be  shewn  to  the  contrary,  form'd  and  fash- 
ion'd  by  work-maisters  ill  to  be  trusted,  we  may  be  assur'd 
that  if  God  loathe  the  best  of  an  idolater's  prayer,  much 
more  the  conceited  fangle  of  his  prayer.  .  .  .  Are  we 
stronger  than  hee,  to  brook  that  which  his  heart  cannot 
brook  ?  It  is  not  surely  because  we  think  that  prayers  are 
no  where  to  be  had  but  at  Rome  ! 

JOHN  MILTON,  Apology  for  Smectyrnnuus  (1642) 

443 


The  Common-Prayer-Book  was  sent  down  into  Scotland, 
where  the  King  had  no  more  Right  to  send  it,  than  into 
the  Mogul's  country ;  but  it  was  under  a  pretence  of 
Uniformity,  .  .  .  But  the  old  Herb-woman  at  Edinburgh 
put  an  end  to  that  Game,  for  hearing  the  Arch-bishop 
who  watch'd  the  Kubrick,  directing  him  to  read  in  the 
Book  the  Collect  for  the  Day,  she  ...  cry'd,  The  Dieul 
Collick  in  the  wemb  of  thee,  and  withal  threw  her  Cricket- 
stool  at  his  Head,  which  gave  a  beginning  to  the  War  of 
Scotland.  SAMUEL  JOHNSON 

Notes  upon  the  Phenix  edition  of  the  Pastoral  Letter  (1694) 


DISLIKING  QUAKERS 

The  Quakers  unmasked,  and  clearly  detected  to  be  but  the 
Spawn  of  Romish  Frogs,  Jesuites,  and  Franciscan  Freeres  ; 
sent  from  Rome  to  seduce  the  intoxicated  Giddy-headed 
English  Nation.  WILLIAM  PRYNNE 

Title  of  a  Tract  (1654) 


DISLIKING  LATITUDINARIANS 

They  push  hard  at  the  Latitude  men  as  they  call  them, 
some  in  their  pulpitts  call  them  sons  of  Belial,  others 
make  the  Devill  a  latitudinarian,  which  things  are  as 
pleasant  to  me  as  the  raillery  of  a  jack-pudding  at  one 
end  of  a  dancing-rope.  For  I  understand  not  the  sottish- 
ness  of  their  language  nor  whom  they  mean,  nor  what 
they  would  have.  HENRY  MORE 

Letter  to  Lady  Conway  (1665) 
444 


DISLIKING  INFIDELS 

The  settled  aversion  Dr  Johnson  felt  towards  an  infidel  he 
expressed  to  all  ranks  and  at  all  times,  without  the  smallest 
reserve.  .  .  .  We  talked  of  a  dead  wit  one  evening,  and 
somebody  praised  him.  "  Let  us  never  praise  talents  so 
ill  employed,  Sir ;  we  foul  our  mouths  by  commending 
such  infidels  "  (said  he).  The  Abbe  Reynal  probably 
remembers  that,  being  at  the  house  of  a  common  friend 
in  London,  the  master  of  it  approached  Johnson  with  that 
gentleman  so  much  celebrated  in  his  hand,  and  this  speech 
in  his  mouth  :  "  Will  you  permit  me,  Sir,  to  present  to 
you  the  Abbe  Reynal  ?  "  "  No,  Sir"  (replied  the  Doctor 
very  loud)  and  suddenly  turned  away  from  them  both. 

HESTHER  Piozzi,  Anecdotes  of  Dr  Johnson  (1786) 


A  gentleman  .  .  .  said,  that  in  his  opinion  the  character  of 
an  infidel  was  more  detestable  than  that  of  a  man  notori- 
ously guilty  of  an  atrocious  crime.  I  differed  from  him. 
.  .  .  JOHNSON  :  Sir,  I  agree  with  him,  for  the  infidel 
would  be  guilty  of  any  crime  if  he  were  inclined  to  it. 

JAMES  BOS  WELL,  Life  of  Johnson  (1791) 


SANS  RANCUNE 

Mons.  Voltaire  remained  in  the  drawing-room,  with  a 
great  Bible  before  us,  and  if  ever  two  mortal  men  dis- 
puted with  vehemence,  we  did. 

JAMES  BOS  WELL,  Letter  to  William  Temple  (Ferney,  1764) 

445 


OLD  AGE 


THE  SEAS  ARE  QUIET 

The  Seas  are  quiet,  when  the  Winds  give  o're  ; 
So  calm  are  we,  when  Passions  are  no  more  : 
For  then  we  know  how  vain  it  was  to  boast 
Of  fleeting  Things,  so  certain  to  be  lost. 
Clouds  of  Affection  from  our  younger  Eyes 
Conceal  that  emptiness,  which  Age  descries. 

The  Soul's  dark  Cottage,  batter'd  and  decay'd, 
Lets  in  new  Light  thro  chinks  that  time  has  made 
Stronger  by  weakness,  wiser  Men  become 
As  they  draw  near  to  their  Eternal  home  : 
Leaving  the  Old,  both  Worlds  at  once  they  view 
That  stand  upon  the  Threshold  of  the  New. 

EDMUND   WALLER 

Of  the  last  Verses  in  the  Book  (1686) 
(Poems,  ed.  5) 


Pious  EJACULATIONS 

I  remember  before  the  Civill  Warrs,  ancient  people, 
when  they  heard  tha  clock  strike,  were  wont  to  say, 
"  Lord,  grant  that  my  last  houre  may  be  my  best  houre." 

446 


They  had  some  pious  ejaculation  too,  when  the  cock  did 
crow,  which  did  put  them  in  mind  of  the  trumpet  at  the 
Resurrection.  JOHN  AUBREY 

Remains  of  Gentilism  and  Judaism  (1687) 


A  CHEERFUL  PROSPECT 

If  I  live  to  be  Old,  for  I  find  I  go  down, 

Let  this  be  my  Fate.  In  a  Country  Town, 

May  I  have  a  warm  house,  with  a  Stone  at  the  Gate, 

And  a  cleanly  young  Girl,  to  rub  my  bald  Pate. 

Chorus 

May  I  govern  my  Passion  with  absolute  Sway, 
And  grow  Wiser,  and  Better,  as  my  Strength  wears 

away. 
Without  Gout,  or  Stone,  by  a  gentle  decay. 

Near  a  shady  Grove,  and  a  murmuring  Brook, 
With  the  Ocean  at  Distance,  whereupon  I  may  look, 
With  a  spacious  Plain,  without  Hedge  or  Stile, 
And  an  easy  Pad-Nag,  to  ride  out  a  Mile. 
May  I  govern,  etc. 

With  Horace  and  Petrarch,  and  Two  or  Three  more 
Of  the  best  Wits  that  reign'd  in  the  Ages  before, 
With  roast  Mutton,  rather  than  Ven'son  or  Veal, 
And  clean,  tho'  coarse  Linnen  at  every  Meal. 
May  I  govern,  etc. 

With  a  Pudding  on  Sundays,  with  stout  humming  Liquor, 
And  Remnants  of  Latin  to  welcome  the  Vicar, 
With  Monte- Fiascone  or  Burgundy  Wine 
To  drink  the  Kings  Health  as  oft  as  I  dine. 
May  I  govern,  etc. 

447 


With  a  Courage  undaunted,  may  I  face  my  last  Day, 

And  when  I  am  dead  may  the  better  sort  say. 

In  the  Morning,  when  sober,  in  the  Evening,  when 

Mellow, 

He's  gone  and  left  not  behind  him  his  Fellow. 
May  I  govern  my  Passion,  etc. 

WALTER  POPE,  The  Wish  (1697) 


TELLING  STORIES  AND  BEADS 

Or  when  three  or  foure  good  companions  meet,  tell  old 
stories  by  the  fier  side,  or  in  the  Sunne,  as  old  folkes 
usually  doe  .  .  .  remembering  afresh  and  with  pleasure 
auncient  matters,  and  such  like  accidents,  which  happnd 
in  their  younger  yeares.  .  .  . 

Old  folks  have  their  beades,  an  excellent  invention  to 
keepe  them  from  idlenesse  that  are  by  nature  melancholy, 
and  past  all  affaires,  to  say  so  many  Paternosters,  Ave* 
maries,  Cr cedes,  if  it  were  not  prophane  and  superstitious. 

ROBERT   BURTON 

The  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  (1621.  Edition  1632) 


WIT  IMPROVES  WITH  YEARS 

As  you  Apollo's  Eldest  Off-Spring  are 
You  of  his  Spirit  claim  a  double  share  .  .  . 
True  Wit,  like  Wine,  thro'  Age  does  riper  grow, 
Brisker  and  clearer,  nay  and  stronger  too  ... 
Thus  your  old  Laurels  flourish  to  this  Day 
Like  full-grown  Trees,  themselves  to  Heav'n  display, 
448 


And  see  young  Suckers  under  them  decay  .  .  . 
So  Phoebus,  after  all  his  Course,  appears 
Bright  as  at  first,  and  as  unchang'd  by  Years  : 
Does  nothing  of  his  Fire  or  Lustre  lose, 
But  sets  at  last,  as  glorious  as  he  rose  I 

WILLIAM   WYCHERLEY 

To  that  Incomparable  Poet,  Mr  Waller,  in  his  Old  Age 

(before  1687) 

DOWAGERS,  CARDS,  MIRTH,  AND  MEMORY 

I  thought  you  would  at  least  come  and  while  away  the 
remainder  of  life  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames  in  gaiety 
and  old  tales.  .  .  .  We  shall  neither  of  us  ever  be  grave  : 
dowagers  roost  all  around  us,  and  you  could  never  want 
cards  or  mirth.  .  .  .  We  should  get  together  and  comfort 
ourselves  with  reflecting  on  the  brave  days  we  have  known 
— not  that  I  think  people  were  a  jot  more  clever  or  wise 
in  our  youth  than  they  are  now ;  but  as  my  system  is 
always  to  live  in  a  vision  as  much  as  I  can,  and  as  visions 
don't  increase  with  years,  there  is  nothing  so  natural  as 
to  think  one  remembers  what  one  does  not  remember. 

HORACE  WALPOLE,  Letter  to  George  Montagu  (1768) 

LADIES  AT  SIXTY 

I  have  known  Ladies  at  Sixty,  to  whom  all  the  polite  part 

of  the  Court  and  Town  paid  their  addresses,  without  any 

further  view  than  that  of  enjoying  the  pleasure  of  their 

Conversation.  JONATHAN  SWIFT 

A  Letter  to  a  Very  Young  Lady  (1727) 

PP  449 


SATIETY 

Why  shou'd  Old  Age  to  most  so  dreadful  be  ? 

Which,  there  are  none  but  wish  and  pray  to  see  ; 

What  we,  by  that,  lose  in  our  Apetites, 

It,  in  our  Sense  and  Temperance,  requites ; 

Age,  with  our  Body's  Imbecility, 

But  best  our  Sense  and  Soul  does  fortifie ; 

Weak'ning  the  Body,  strengthens  more  the  Mind, 

Which,  as  more  Weak  the  Body  grows,  (we  find) 

Is  to  resist  strong  Passions  more  inclin'd.  .  .  . 

Tho'  Death's  afar  off  Grim,  'tis  Tame  when  near. 

So  keeps  our  Huffing  Youth  but  most  in  fear.  . . 

Then  Death  to  Men  sated  with  Life  is  Ease, 

Rest  to  the  Tir'd,  to  th'  Bed-rid  a  Release  ; 

To  the  Long-Liv'd,  the  sole  Variety, 

Who  have  done  all  they  cou'd  before,  but  Die, 

And  Repetition  is  worst  Drudgery ; 

The  best  of  Life  is  but  the  same  thing  still, 

The  Feast  is  loath'd,  when  we  have  had  our  Fill .  . . 

Thus  Age  what  Virtue  ne'er  cou'd  compass  does, 

Makes  the  Soul,  in  the  Jail  the  Body  loose.  .  .  . 

WILLIAM  WYCHERLEY 

In  the  Praise  and  Defence  of  Old  Age  :  To  a  Vain 
Young  Man,  who  said.  There  was  nothing  to  be  said  for 
it,  and  that  it  was  more  dreadful  than  Death  (c.  1704  ?) 


GAIETY  CONTEMPTIBLE 

A  fondness  for  the  amusements  and  gaieties  of  fashionable 
life  in  an  advanced  age,  seems  to  me  not  only  contempt- 
ible but  miserable,  though  I  have  often  heard  people 
envied  for  it. 

MRS.  DONNELLAN,  Letter  to  Samuel  Richardson  (1752) 
450 


ITS  DEFENCE 

You'll  tell  me  that  Age  is  apt  to  impair  the  Memory  : 
...  I'll  say  that  for  my  self,  I  can  give  a  very  particular 
and  competent  Account  of  the  present  Generation,  and  of 
their  Fathers  and  Grandfathers  before  them  too.  .  .  .  Was 
it  ever  known  in  this  world  that  a  doting  Volpone  forgot 
where  he  bury'd  his  Money  ?  Misers  can  remember 
what  they  have  a  mind  to,  as  well  as  other  People.  .  .  . 
Sophocles  wrote  for  the  Stage  as  long  as  he  liv'd.  .  .  . 
Solon  in  his  Verses  values  himself  upon  reflecting,  that 
his  Understanding  improv'd  as  fast  as  his  Days  multiplyed. 
.  .  .  Socrates  toward  the  latter  End  of  his  Life  became 
a  Practitioner  in  Mustek ;  a  very  creditable  Accomplish- 
ment in  the  Opinion  of  the  Ancients  ;  and  I  could  wish  I 
had  try'd  it  my  self.  However,  I  have  minded  my  Book, 
and  lost  no  Time  in  my  Closet.  .  .  . 

In  the  second  Place,  as  to  any  Decrease  of  Strength  and 
Vigour  (which  was  the  second  Hardship  objected)  in 
earnest,  I  find  my  self,  upon  the  Experiment,  altogether 
as  insensible  of  the  Loss,  as  in  my  Prime  I  was  of  the  want 
of  a  Bull's  or  an  Elephant's  Muscles.  .  .  . 

No  Man  is  under  a  Necessity  to  play  the  Fool  in  his 
Old  Age ;  but  every  Man  may  if  he  pleases.  Appius  was 
quite  dark  some  Time  before  he  died,  and  yet  capable  of 
managing  and  disciplining  four  Sons  (full  grown)  five 
Daughters,  and  a  large  Dependence  of  Relations  and  In- 
feriours.  He  minded  his  Business,  and  kept  his  Under- 
standing brac'd ;  and  when  his  Vigour  had  fail'd  him, 
'twas  more  than  his  Age  could  do  to  foil  him.  ...  In  a 
word,  he  modell'd  his  Family  like  a  primitive  Roman, 
and  follow'd  the  good  old  Way  ;  .  .  . . 

And  (in  Truth)  let  a  Man  follow  his  Business  diligently, 
451 


and  always  keep  himself  thus  honestly  and  usefully 
employ 'd,  and  he  will  have  no  leisure  to  perceive  the 
Encroachments  of  Old  Age.  'Twill  slide  along  with  him 
by  very  gentle  and  insensible  Degrees,  till  at  last  he 
sails  (as  'twere)  into  Port,  before  he  has  had  Occasion 
to  take  Notice  of  his  Voyage.  .  .  . 

If  we  must  bid  adieu  to  the  Carnival  of  Life,  to  the 
Relish  of  large  Glasses  and  the  Delicacies  of  the  Board 
the  best  on't  is,  we  take  our  leave  at  the  same  Time  of 
Giddiness,  Headach,  Indigestion,  Qualms,  Fumes,  Broken- 
sleeps,  and  Distracting  Dreams.  .  .  .  And  if  an  Old 
Man  at  an  Entertainment  cannot  swallow  as  liberally,  he 
may  refresh  himself  as  comfortably  as  the  rest  of  the 
Company.  There  was  old  Cairn  Duilius,  Marcus's  Son,  he 
that  gave  the  first  Blow  to  the  Pride  of  Carthage  by  Sea. 
Many  a  Time  when  I  was  a  Youngster,  have  I  stood  to 
look  upon  him  as  he  was  marching  home  after  Supper, 
with  a  wax-taper  to  light  him,  and  a  Violin  playing  before 
him.  .  .  . 

I  am  sure  as  to  my  self,  all  the  Pleasure  that  I  am 
affected  with  at  a  Repast  in  Season,  is  the  Opportunity  it 
gives  me  of  conferring  Notes  now  and  then  with  some  or 
other  of  those  few  Cavaliers  remaining,  that  have  seen  as 
much  of  the  world  as  my  self ;  but  much  more  frequently 
with  those  that  have  not  known  it  so  long,  as  particularly, 
Gentlemen,  your  selves.  My  Years,  I  must  tell  you,  have 
oblig'd  me  extreamly  by  diverting  the  Forwardness  of 
my  Appetite  and  the  Curiosity  of  my  Palat,  from  Diet  to 
Discourse.  .  .  .  And  this  has  been  my  Way  of  living  in  the 
Country ;  a  Day  never  passes  but  I  get  my  good  Neigh- 
bours about  me,  bid  them  welcome  to  what  the  House 
affords,  and  so  we  set  round,  talking  of  this  Thing  and 
t'other,  till  ten,  eleven,  perhaps  twelve  a  Clock  at  Night. 

452 


To  return,  I  shall  be  told,  perhaps,  that  as  a  Man  grows 
in  Years,  he  loses  all  the  lively  Flavour  and  Briskness  of  his 
Pleasures.  No  matter,  so  long  as  he  does  not  miss  it.  ... 
An  old  Dotard  was  pleas'd  to  examine  Socrates,  whether 
he  had  no  private  Concerns,  now  and  then,  upon  Occasion, 
with  t'other  Sex  ?  Bless  me,  what  do  you  mean,  Sir  ?  (say'd 
the  Philosopher  like  himself),  /  were  in  a  fine  condition 
indeed,  if  I  had  not  in  all  this  Time  broke  the  Tyranny 
of  that  insolent  unruly  Passion.  .  .  . 

In  short,  what  can  we  desire  more  than  a  fair  and  full 
Discharge  from  the  Service  of  our  own  Appetites  and 
Frenzies,  our  Lusts,  Animositie,  Ambition,  etc.,  and  to 
have  our  Souls  and  Senses,  as  we  say,  to  our  selves  ?  And 
then  if  there's  a  Foundation  of  Learning  withal,  and  Lei- 
sure and  Opportunity  to  work  upon  it,  O !  how  deliciously 
does  an  old  Man  enjoy  himself !  Caius  Gallus  .  .  .  took  a 
Pride  and  Satisfaction  in  nothing  so  much  as  his  Knowledge 
of  Eclipses.  .  .  .  Noevius  the  Poet,  how  happily  he  pass'd 
the  Time,  while  he  was  composing  his  Performance  about 
the  Punick  War  \  And  so  Plautus,  when  his  Truculentus 
and  Pseudolus  were  upon  the  Stocks.  And  old  Livy  was  as 
fortunate  as  either  of  them.  .  .  .  Now  what  comparison  is 
there  between  such  significant  Recreations  as  these,  and 
the  Beau's  Paradise,  the  Taverns,  the  Stage,  and  the 
Masks  ?  .  .  . 

Next  let  us  turn  our  Thoughts  towards  the  Country,  and 
the  Scene  of  those  agreeable  Cares  and  Concerns  which 
belong  to  it.  These,  I  must  own,  are  my  beloved  Employ ~ 
ments,  as  well  they  deserve  to  be.  For  when  we  are  grown 
too  old  for  other  Things,  we  may  still  be  fit  enough  to 
manage  these  matters.  .  .  . 

Be  it  so  ;  yet  aged  People  are  strangely  Sour,  Sollicitous, 
Passionate,  Peevish ;  and  'tis  odds  but  their  Constitution's 


over-run  with  .Avarice  too.  Possibly:  But  then  take 
Notice  these  Imperfections  are  owing  not  to  the  number 
of  our  Years,  but  to  the  Error  of  our  Conduct.  .  .  .  The 
Difference  is  the  same  in  Men,  as  in  Wines  :  There  are 
some  so  well  Body'd  and  Generous  that  Age  cannot  turn 
them.  .  .  . 

By  this  Time,  Gentleman,  I  suppose  the  Wonder's 
over,  and  you  may  be  sufficiently  instructed  to  account  for 
that  Easiness  and  Serenity,  nay  that  Delight  and  Pleasure, 
which  crown  these  hoary  Temples.  ...  In  a  Word,  'tis 
with  Life,  as  with  other  Things,  a  moderate  Measure  and 
Quantity  does  best ;  and  whether  there's  another  Life  in 
Reversion  or  not,  he  that  is  much  troubled  about  putrefy- 
ing, when  'tis  Time,  is  his  own  Enemy.  Old  Age  is  the 
last  Result,  the  clinching  Scene  of  the  Play ;  and  if  we 
don't  grow  Sick  on't  by  that  Time,  we  should  be  glad, 
however,  if  we  could  fairly  get  out  of  the  House  betimes, 
and  escape  the  Hurry. 

CICERO,  De  Senectute  (45  B.C.) 
Trans.  Samuel  Parker  (1704) 


GAY  OLD  MEN 

Ah  Posthumus  \  Our  yeares  hence  flye, 
And  leave  no  sound  ;  nor  piety, 

Or  prayers,  or  vow 
Can  keepe  the  wrinkle  from  the  brow  : 

But  we  must  on, 

As  Fate  do's  lead  or  draw  us  ;  none. 
None,  Posthumus,  co'd  ere  decline 
The  doome  of  cruell  Proserpine.  . . . 

454 


3.  Wave  seen  the  past-best  Times,  and  these 
Will  nere  return,  we  see  the  Seas, 

And  Moons  to  wain  ; 
But  they  fill  up  their  Ebbs  again  : 

But  vanisht  man, 
Like  to  a  Lilly-lost,  nere  can, 
Nere  can  repullulate,  or  bring 
His  dayes  to  see  a  second  Spring. 

4.  But  on  we  must,  and  thither  tend, 
Where  Anchus  and  rich  Tullus  blend 

Their  sacred  seed ; 
Thus  has  Inf  email  Jove  decreed  ; 

We  must  be  made, 
Ere  long,  a  song,  ere  long,  a  shade, 
Why  then,  since  life  to  us  is  short, 
Lets  make  it  full  up,  by  our  sport. . . . 

7.  If  we  can  meet,  and  so  conferre, 
Both  by  a  shining  Salt-seller ; 

And  have  our  Roofe, 
Although  not  archt,  yet  weather  proofe, 

And  seeling  free, 

From  that  cheape  Candle  baudery  : 
We'le  eate  our  Beane  with  that  full  mirth, 
As  we  were  Lords  of  all  the  earth.  . .  . 

12 Fie  call  my  young 

Julus  to  sing  such  a  song 

I  made  upon  my  Julia's  brest ; 

And  of  her  blush  at  such  a  feast 

13.      For  to  beget 

In  me  a  more  transcendant  heate, 
Then  that  insinuating  fire, 
Which  crept  into  each  aged  Sire. 

455 


14.  When  the  faire  Hellen,  from  her  eyes, 
Shot  forth  her  loving  Sorceries  : 

At  which  Pie  reare 
Mine  aged  limbs  above  my  chaire  : 

And  hearing  it, 
Flutter  and  crow,  as  in  a  fit 
Of  fresh  concupiscence,  and  cry, 
No  lust  theres  like  to  Poetry. 

15.  Thus  frantick  crazie  man  (God  wot) 
He  call  to  mind  things  half  forgot : 

And  oft  between, 
Repeat  the  Times  that  I  have  seen  !  .  .  . 

1 6.  Then  next  Fie  cause  my  hopefull  Lad 
(If  a  wild  Apple  can  be  had) 

To  crown  the  Hearth, 
(Larr  thus  conspiring  with  our  mirth) 

Then  to  infuse 

Our  browner  Ale  into  the  cruse  : 
Which  sweetly  spic't,  we'l  first  carouse 
Unto  the  Genius  of  the  house.  .  .  . 

1 8.  To  those,  and  then  agen  to  thee 
We'l  drink,  my  Wickes,  untill  we  be 

Plump  as  the  cherry, 
Though  not  so  fresh,  yet  full  as  merry 

As  the  crickit ; 

The  untam'd  Heifer,  or  the  Pricket, 
Untill  our  tongues  shall  tell  our  ears, 
Ware  younger  by  a  score  of  years. 

19.  This,  till  we  see  the  fire  lesse  shine 
From  th'  embers,  than  the  killings  eyne, 

We'l  still  sit  up, 
Sphering  about  the  wassail  cup, 
456 


To  all  those  times, 

Which  gave  me  honour  for  my  Rhimes, 
The  cole  once  spent,  we'l  then  to  bed, 
Farre  more  than  night  bewearied. 

ROBERT   HERRICK 

His  Age,  dedicated  to  his  peculiar  friend.,  Mr.  John 

Wickes.  Hesperides  (1648) 


REMEMBERING  ONE'S  AGE 

It  is  my  felicity  to  have  remember  how  ridiculous  I  have 
formerly  thought  old  people  who  forgot  their  own  age 
when  everybody  else  did  not ;  and  it  is  lucky  too  that  I 
feel  no  disposition  that  can  lead  me  into  absurdities.  The 
present  world  might  be  my  grandchildren ;  as  they  are 
not,  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  them.  I  am  glad  they  are 
amused,  but  neither  envy  nor  wish  to  partake  of  their 
pleasures  or  their  business.  When  one  preserve  one's 
senses  and  faculties  and  suffers  no  pain,  old  age  would 
be  no  grievance  but  for  one  ;  yet  oh  !  that  one  is  a  heavy 
calamity — the  surviving  one's  friends  :  nay,  even  the  loss 
of  one's  contemporaries  is  something !  at  least  I  cannot 
feel  interested  in  a  generation  that  I  do  not  know. 

HORACE  WALPOLE,  Letter  to  Sir  Horace  Mann  (1784) 


A  FULL  LIFE 

I  have  seen  a  mistress  of  James  the  Second,  the  Duke  of 
Marlborough's  burial,  three  or  four  wars,  the  whole 
career,  victories  and  death  of  Lord  Chatham,  the  loss  of 

457 


America,  the  second  conflagration  of  London  by  Lord 
George  Gordon — and  yet  I  am  not  so  old  as  Methusalem 
by  four  or  five  centuries  !  In  short,  I  can  sit  and  amuse 
myself  with  my  own  memory,  and  yet  find  new  stores  at 
every  audience  that  I  give  to  it.  Then,  for  private  episodes, 
varieties  of  characters,  political  intrigues,  literary  anec- 
dotes, etc.,  the  profusion  that  I  remember  is  endless ;  in 
short,  when  I  reflect  on  all  I  have  seen,  heard,  read,  written, 
the  many  idle  hours  I  have  passed,  the  nights  I  have 
wasted  playing  at  faro,  the  weeks,  nay  months,  I  have 
spent  in  pain,  you  will  not  wonder  that  I  almost  think  I 
have,  like  Pythagoras,  been  Panthoides  Euphorbus,  and 
have  retained  one  memory  in  at  least  two  bodies. 

Ibid.  (1785) 


A  COMFORTABLE  DOCTRINE 

I  shall  soon  enter  the  period  which,  as  the  most  agreeable 
of  his  long  life,  was  selected  by  the  judgement  and  experi- 
ence of  the  sage  Fontenelle.  ...  I  am  far  more  inclined  to 
embrace  than  to  dispute  this  comfortable  doctrine  :  I 
will  not  suppose  any  premature  decay  of  the  mind  or 
body  ;  but  I  must  reluctantly  observe  that  two  causes,  the 
abbreviation  of  time  and  the  failure  of  hope,  will  always 
tinge  with  a  browner  shade  the  evening  of  life.  ...  In  old 
age,  the  consolation  of  hope  is  reserved  for  the  tenderness 
of  parents,  who  commence  a  new  life  in  their  children ; 
the  faith  of  enthusiasts  who  sing  Hallelujahs  above  the 
clouds,  and  the  vanity  of  authors  who  presume  the  im- 
mortality of  their  name  and  writings. 

EDWARD  GIBBON,  Autobiography  (1791) 
458 


GETTING  OUT 

Old  Age  brings  along  with  its  uglinesses  the  comfort  that 
you  will  soon  be  out  of  it.  ...  To  be  out  of  the  war,  out  of 
debt,  out  of  the  drouht,  out  of  the  blues,  out  of  the 
dentist's  hands,  out  of  the  second  thoughts,  mortifica- 
tions, and  remorses  that  inflict  such  twinges  and  shotting 
pains, — out  of  the  next  winter,  the  high  prices,  and 
company  below  your  ambition, — surely  these  are  soothing 
hints.  And,  harbinger  of  this,  what  an  alleviator  is 
sleep,  which  muzzles  all  these  dogs  for  me  every  day. 

RALPH   WALDO   EMERSON,  Journal  (1864) 


ORCHARDS 


POMONA'S 

In  this  kings  reigne  Pomona  lived.  There  was  not  too  bee 

found 
Among  the  woodnymphes   any  one  in  all  the  Latian 

ground 

That  was  so  conning  for  too  keepe  an  Ortyard  as  was  shee, 
Nor  none  so  paynefull  to  preserve  the  frute  of  every  tree. 
And  theruppon  she  had  her  name.  Shee  past  not  for  the 

woodes 
Nor  rivers,  but  the  villages  and  boughes  that  bare  both 

buddes 

459 


And  plentuous  frute.  In  sted  of  dart  a  shredding  hooke 

shee  bare. 
With  which  the  overlusty  boughes  shee  eft  away  did 

pare 
That  spreaded  out  too  farre,  and  eft  did  make  therwith 

a  rift 
To  greffe  another  imp  uppon  the  stocke   within   the 

clift. 
And  lest  her  trees  should  die  through  drought,  with  water 

of  the  springs. 
Shee  moysteth  of  theyr  sucking  roots  the  little  crumpled 

strings. 
This  was  her  love  and  whole  delyght.  And  as  for  Venus 

deedes 
Shee  had  no  mynd  at  all  for  them.  And  forbycause  shee 

dreedes 
Enforcement  by  the  countrye  folke,  shee  walld  her  yards 

about. 
Not  suffring  any  man  at  all  to  enter  in  or  out. 

OVID 

Metamorphoses  (c.  5  B.c) 
Trans.  Arthur  Golding  (1567) 


POLYPHEMUS'S 


My  Garden  filPd  with  Fruits  you  may  behold, 
And  Grapes  in  Clusters,  imitating  Gold  ; 
Some  blushing  Bunches  of  a  Purple  Hue, 
And  these,  and  those,  are  all  reserv'd  for  you. 
Red  Strawberries,  in  Shades,  expecting  stand, 
Proud  to  be  gather'd  by  so  white  a  Hand. 
460 


Autumnal  Cornels  later  Fruit  provide, 
And  Plumbs,  to  tempt  you,  turn  their  glossy  Side  : 
Not  those  of  common  Kinds  ;  but  such  alone, 
As  in  Phracian  Orchards  might  have  grown  : 
Nor  Chestnuts  shall  be  wanting  to  your  Food, 
Nor  Garden-Fruits,  nor  Wildings  of  the  Wood  ; 
The  laden  Boughs  for  you  alone  shall  bear  ; 
And  yours  shall  be  the  Product  of  the  Year. 

JOHN   DRYDEN 

Acts,  Polyphemus  and  Galatea  (1700) 
From  Ovid,  Metamorphoses  (c.  5  B.C.) 


AT  THE  CROSSROADS 

I,  Hermes,  stand  here  by  the  windy  orchard  at  the  cross- 
roads near  the  grey  sea-shore,  resting  tired  men  on  their 
way ;  and  the  spring  wells  out  cold  pure  water. 

ANYTE   OF   TEGEA    (3rd   C.   B.C.) 


A  FEAST 

Up  thou  north  wynde,  come  thou  south  wynde,  and  blowe 
upon  my  garden,  that  the  smel  therof  may  be  caried  on 
every  syde.  yee  that  my  beloved  may  come  into  my  garden, 
and  eate  of  the  frutes  and  apples  that  growe  therein. 

Come  in  to  my  garden,  O  my  syster,my  Spouse:  I  have 
gathered  my  Myrre  with  my  spyce.  I  will  eate  my  hony  and 
my  hony  combe,  I  wyll  dryncke  my  wyne  and  my  mylcke. 

SALAMONS  BALLET 

Trans.  Miles  Coverdale.  Matthew's  Bible  (1537) 
461 


WASSAILING 

Wassail  the  Trees,  that  they  may  beare 
You  many  a  Plum,  and  many  a  Peare : 
For  more  or  lesse  fruits  they  will  bring, 
As  you  doe  give  them  Wassailing. 

ROBERT  HERRICK,  Hesperides  (1648) 


KENTISH 

Saluting  the  deare  soyle,  O  famous  Kent,  quoth  shee, 
What   Country  hath  this   He   that   can   compare   with 

thee,  .... 
Where  Thames-ward  to  the  shore,  which  shoots  upon  the 

rise, 

Rich  Renham  undertakes  thy  Closets  to  suffize 
With  Cherries,  which  wee  say,  the  Sommer  in  doth  bring, 
Wherewith  Pomona  crowns  the  plump  and  lustfull  Spring ; 
From  whose  deepe  ruddy  cheeke,  sweet  Zephyrs  kisses 

steales, 

With  their  delicious  touch  his  love-sicke  hart  that  heales. 
Whose  golden  gardens  seeme  th'Hesperides  to  mock  : 
Nor  there  the  Damzon  wants,  nor  daintie  Abricock, 
Nor  Pippin,  which  we  hold  of  kernell-fruits  the  King, 
The  Apple-Orendge  ;  then  the  savory  Russetting  : 
The  Peare-maine,  which  to  France  long  ere  to  us  was 

knowne, 

Which  carefull  Frut'rers  now  have  denizend  our  owne. 
The  Renat :  which  though  first  it  from  the  Pippin  came, 
Growne  through  his  pureness  nice,  assumes  that  curious 

name, 

462 


Upon  the  Pippin  stock,  the  Pippin  beeing  set ; 
Aso  on  the  Gentle,  when  the  Gentle  doth  beget 
(Both  by  the  Sire  and  Dame  beeing  anciently  descended) 
The  issue  borne  of  them,  his  blood  hath  much  amended. 
The  Sweeting,  for  whose  sake  the  Plow-boyes  oft  make 

warre  : 

The  Wilding,  Costard,  then  the  wel-known  Pomwater, 
And  sundry  other  fruits,  of  good,  yet  severall  taste, 
That  have  their  sundry  names  in  sundry  Countries  plac't. 

MICHAEL   DRAYTON 

Poly-Olbion.  Song  XVIII  (1612) 


Ax  NUN  APPLETON 

When  we  have  run  our  Passions  heat, 
Love  hither  makes  his  best  retreat. 
The  Gods,  that  mortal  Beauty  chase, 
Still  in  a  Tree  did  end  their  race. 
Apollo  hunted  Daphne  so, 
Only  that  she  might  Laurel  grow. 
And  Pan  did  after  Syrinx  speed, 
Not  as  a  Nymph,  but  for  a  Reed. 

What  wond'rous  Life  in  this  I  leadf 
Ripe  Apples  drop  about  my  head  ; 
The  Luscious  Clusters  of  the  Vine 
Upon  my  Mouth  do  crush  their  Wine  ; 
The  Nectaren  and  curious  Peach, 
Into  my  hands  themselves  do  reach ; 
Stumbling  on  Melons,  as  I  pass, 
Insnar'd  with  Flowers,  I  fall  on  Grass. 
463 


Mean  while  the  Mind,  from  pleasure  less, 

Withdraws  into  its  happiness  : 

The  Mind,  that  Ocean  where  each  kind 

Does  streight  its  own  resemblance  find  ; 

Yet  it  creates,  transcending  these, 

Far  other  Worlds,  and  other  Seas  ; 

Annihilating  all  that's  made 

To  a  green  Thought  in  a  green  Shade. 

Here  at  the  Fountains  sliding  foot, 
Or  at  some  Fruit-tree's  mossy  root, 
Casting  the  Bodies  Vest  aside, 
My  Soul  into  the  boughs  does  glide  : 
There  like  a  Bird  it  sits,  and  sings, 
Then  whets,  and  combs  its  silver  Wings  ; 
And,  till  prepar'd  for  longer  flight, 
Waves  in  its  Plumes  the  various  Light. 

Such  was  that  happy  Garden-state, 
While  Man  there  walk'd  without  a  Mate  : 
After  a  Place  so  pure,  and  sweet, 
What  other  Help  could  yet  be  meet  ! 
But  'twas  beyond  a  Mortal's  share 
To  wander  solitary  there  : 
Two  Paradises  'twere  in  one 
To  live  in  Paradise  alone. 
ANDREW  MARVELL,  The  Garden  (c.  1653  :  pub.  1681) 


WHEN  TO  TRANSPLANT  ORANGE  TREES 

Now  forasmuch  as  Gentlemen  are  very  inquisitive  when 
were  the  best  and  securest  season  for  exposing  their 
Orange-trees,  and  more  tender  curiosities,  I  give  them 

464 


this  for  a  rule  the  most  infallible  :  that  they  observe  the 
Mulberry-tree,  when  it  begins  to  put  forth  and  open  the 
leaves  (be  it  earlier  or  later)  bring  your  Oranges  &c. 
boldly  out  of  the  Conservatory ;  'tis  your  onely  season 
to  transplant  and  remove  them. 

JOHN  EVELYN 

Kalendarium  Hor tense  (1664) 


MASTERING  THE  FRUIT-TREES 

Who  would  not  joy  to  see  his  conquering  hand 
Oe'r  all  the  vegetable  world  command  ? 
And  the  wild  gyants  of  the  wood  receive 

What  law  hee's  pleas 'd  to  give  ? 
Hee  bids  th'ill-natur'd  crab  produce 
The  gentler  apples  winy  juice  ; 
The  golden  fruit  that  worthy  is 
of  Galatea's  purple  kiss  ; 
Hee  does  the  savage  hawthorn  teach 
To  bear  the  Medlar  and  the  Pear  ; 
Hee  bids  the  rustique  Plum  to  rear 
A  nobler  trunck,  and  bee  a  Peach, 
Even  Daphnes  coyness  hee  does  mock. 
And  weds  the  Cherry  to  her  stock  ; 
Though  shee  refus'd  Apollos  suit ; 
Ev'n  she,  the  chast,  and  virgin  tree, 
Now  wonders  at  her  self,  to  see 
That  shee's  a  mother  made,  and  blushes  in  her 

fruit. 

ABRAHAM  COWLEY 

The  Garden  (1666) 
465 


PARENTAL 


INDISCRIMINATE  LOVE  OF  INFANTS 


I  cannot  receive  this  passion,  wherewith  some  embrace 
children  scarsly  borne,  having  neither  motion  in  the  soule, 
nor  forme  well  to  be  distinguished  in  the  body,  whereby 
they  might  make  themselves  lovely  or  amiable.  And  I 
could  never  well  endure  to  have  them  brought  up  or 
nursed  neere  about  me.  A  true  and  well  ordred  affection 
ought  to  be  borne  and  augmented  with  the  knowledge  they 
give  us  of  themselves;  and  then,  if  they  deserve  it  (naturall 
inclination  marching  hand  in  hand  with  reason)  to  cherish 
and  make  much  of  them,  with  a  perfect  fatherly  love  and 
loving  friendship,  and  conformably  to  judje  of  them  if  they 
be  otherwise,  always  yeelding  our  selves  into  reason  .  .  . 
For  the  most  part,  it  goeth  clean  contrary,  and  commonly 
we  feele  our  selves  more  moved  with  the  sports,  idlenesse, 
wantonnesse,  and  infant-trifles  of  our  children,  then  after- 
ward we  do  with  all  their  actions,  when  they  be  men  : 
As  if  we  had  loved  them  for  our  pastimes,  as  we  do  apes, 
monkies,  or  perokitoes,  and  not  as  man.  And  some  that 
liberally  furnish  them  with  sporting  babies  while  they  be 
children,  will  miserably  pinch  it  in  the  least  expence  for 

466 


necessaries  when  they  grow  men.  Nay,  it  seemeth  that  the 
jelousie  we  have  to  see  them  appeare  into  and  injoy  the 
world,  when  we  are  ready  to  leave  them,  makes  us  more 
sparing  and  close-handed  toward  them. 

MICHEL   DE   MONTAIGNE 

Essays  :  Of  the  affection  of  fathers  to  their 

Children  (1580) 
Trans.  John  Florio  (1603) 


THE  NAKED  INDIAN'S  QUESTION 


None  could  answer  the  naked  Indian,  Why  one  Man 
should  take  Pains,  and  run  Hazards  by  Sea  and  Land  all  his 
Life,  that  his  Children  might  be  safe  and  lazy  all  theirs. 

SIR  WILLIAM  TEMPLE 

Of  Gardening  (1685) 


EATING  JACKS 


When  Arch  Bishop's  Abbot's  mother  .  .  .  was  with  child 
of  him,  she  did  long  for  a  jack,  and  she  dreamt  that  if  shee 
should  eat  a  jack,  her  son  in  her  belly  should  be  a  great 
man.  She  arose  early  the  next  morning,  and  went  with  her 
payle  to  the  river  side  ...  to  take  up  some  water,  and  in 
the  water  in  her  payle  shee  found  a  good  jack,  which  she 
dresst,  and  eat  it  all,  or  very  near.  Severall  of  the  best  in- 
habitants of  Guildford  were  invited  (or  invited  themselves) 

467 


to  the  Christening  of  the  child ;  it  was  bred  up  a 
Scholar  in  the  town,  and  by  degrees,  came  to  be  Arch 
Bishop  of  Canterbury. 

JOHN  AUBREY,  Miscellanies  (1696) 


Too  HEAVY 

There  was  a  feast  of  Hera  among  the  Argives,  and  it  was  by 
all  means  necessary  that  their  mother  should  be  borne 
in  a  car  to  the  temple.  But,  since  their  oxen  were  not 
brought  up  in  time  from  the  field,  the  young  men,  barred 
from  all  else  from  lack  of  time,  submitted  themselves  to 
the  yoke  and  drew  the  wain,  their  mother  being  borne  by 
them  upon  it ;  and  so  they  brought  it  on  for  five  and  forty 
furlongs,  and  came  to  the  temple.  Then  after  they  had  done 
this  and  been  seen  by  the  assembled  crowd,  there  came  to 
their  life  a  most  excellent  ending  ;  and  in  this  the  deity 
declared  that  it  was  better  for  man  to  die  than  to  continue 
to  live.  For  the  Argive  men  were  standing  round  and  extol- 
ling the  strength  of  the  young  men,  while  the  argive 
women  were  extolling  the  mother  to  whose  lot  it  had 
fallen  to  have  such  sons ;  and  the  mother,  being  exceedingly 
rejoiced  both  by  the  deed  itself  and  by  the  report  made  of 
it,  took  her  stand  in  front  of  the  image  of  the  goddess  and 
prayed  that  she  would  give  to  Cleobis  and  Biton  her  sons, 
who  had  honoured  her  greatly,  that  gift  which  is  best  for 
man  to  receive  :  and  after  this  prayer,  when  they  had 
sacrificed  and  feasted,  the  young  men  lay  down  to  sleep 
within  the  temple  itself,  and  never  rose  again. 

HERODOTUS,  History  (5th  cent.  B.C.) 
Trans.  G.  C.  Macaulay 
468 


A  PRODIGIOUS  CHILD 

Jan.  2jth,  1658.  After  six  fits  of  a  quartan  ague  with 
which  it  pleased  God  to  visite  him,  died  my  deare  Son 
Richard,  to  our  inexpressible  griefe  and  affliction,  5 
yeares  and  3  days  old  onely,  but  at  that  tender  age  a 
prodigy  for  witt  and  understanding  ;  for  beauty  of  body  a 
very  angel ;  for  endowment  of  mind  of  incredible  and 
rare  hopes.  To  give  onely  a  little  taste  of  them,  and  thereby 
glory  to  God,  sense  of  God  he  had  learn'd  all  his  cate- 
chisme  who  out  of  the  mouths  of  babes  and  infants  does 
sometimes  perfect  his  praises  :  at  2  years  and  a  halfe  old 
he  could  perfectly  reade  any  of  the  English,  Latine, 
French,  or  Gottic  letters,  pronouncing  the  three  first 
languages  exactly.  He  had  before  the  5th  yeare,  or  in  that 
yeare,  not  onely  skill  to  reade  most  written  hands,  but  to 
decline  all  the  nouns,  conjugate  the  verbs  regular,  and 
most  of  the  irregular ;  learn'd  out  "  Puerilis,"  got  by 
heart  almost  the  entire  vocabularie  of  Latine  and  French 
primitives  and  words,  could  make  congruous  syntax, 
turne  English  into  Latine,  and  vice  versa,  construe  and 
prove  what  he  read,  and  did  the  government  and  use  of 
relatives,  verbs,  substantives,  elipses,  and  many  figures 
and  tropes,  and  made  a  considerable  progress  in  Comen- 
ius's  Janua  ;  began  himselfe  to  write  legibly,  and  had  a 
strong  passion  for  Greeke.  The  number  of  verses  he  could 
recite  was  prodigious,  and  what  he  remember'd  of  the 
parts  of  playes,  which  he  would  also  act;  and  when  seeing 
a  Plautus  in  one's  hand,  he  ask'd  what  booke  it  was,  and 
being  told  it  was  comedy,  and  too  difficult  for  him,  he 
wept  for  sorrow.  Strange  was  his  apt  and  ingenious 
application  of  fables  and  morals,  for  he  had  read  /Esop  ; 
he  had  a  wonderful  disposition  to  mathematics,  having 

469 


by  heart  divers  propositions  of  Euclid  that  were  read  to 
him  in  play,  and  he  would  make  lines  and  demonstrate 
them.  As  to  his  piety,  astonishing  were  his  applications 
of  Scripture  upon  occasion,  and  his  early,  and  understood 
the  historical  part  of  the  Bible  and  New  Testament  to  a 
wonder,  how  Christ  came  to  redeeme  mankind,  and  how, 
comprehending  these  necessarys  himselfe,  his  godfathers 
were  discharg'd  of  their  promise.  These  and  the  like 
illuminations,  far  exceeding  his  age  and  experience, 
considering  the  prettinesse  of  his  addresse  and  behaviour, 
cannot  but  leave  impressions  in  me  at  the  memory  of  him. 
When  one  told  him  how  many  dayes  a  Quaker  had  fasted, 
he  replied  that  was  no  wonder,  for  Christ  had  said  that 
man  should  not  live  by  bread  alone,  but  by  the  Word  of 
God.  He  would  of  himselfe  select  the  most  pathetic 
psalms,  and  chapters  out  of  Job,  to  reade  to  his  mayde 
during  his  sicknesse,  telling  her  when  she  pitied  him, 
that  all  God's  children  must  suffer  affliction.  He  de- 
claim'd  against  the  vanities  of  the  world  before  he  had 
scene  any.  Often  he  would  desire  those  who  came  to  see 
him  to  pray  by  him,  and  a  yeare  before  he  fell  sick,  to 
kneel  and  pray  with  him  alone  in  some  corner.  How 
thankfully  would  he  receive  admonition,  how  soone  be 
reconciled !  how  indifferent,  yet  continualy  chereful ! 
He  would  give  grave  advice  to  his  Brother  John,  beare 
with  his  impertinencies,  and  say  he  was  but  a  child.  If  he 
heard  of  or  saw  any  new  thing,  he  was  unquiet  till  he  was 
told  how  it  was  made  ;  he  brought  to  us  all  such  difficulties 
as  he  found  in  books,  to  be  expounded.  He  had  learn'd 
by  heart  divers  sentences  in  Latin  and  Greeke,  which  on 
occasion  he  would  produce  even  to  wonder.  He  was  all 
life,  all  prettinesse,  far  from  morose,  sullen,  or  childish 
in  any  thing  he  said  or  did.  The  last  time  he  had  been 

470 


at  church  (which  was  at  Greenewich),  I  ask'd  him, 
according  to  costome,  what  he  remembered  of  the  sermon; 
two  good  things.  Father,  said  he,  bonum  gratice  and  bonum 
gloria,  with  a  just  account  of  what  the  preacher  said. 

JOHN  EVELYN,  Diary 


AN  EXCELLENT  DAUGHTER 

March  IO//T,  1685.  .  .  .  The  justnesse  of  her  stature, 
person,  comeliness  of  countenance,  gracefullnesse  of 
motion,  unaffected  th'  more  than  ordinary  beautifull, 
were  the  least  of  her  ornaments  compared  with  those  of 
her  mind.  Of  early  piety,  singularly  religious,  spending 
a  part  of  every  day  in  private  devotion,  reading,  and  other 
vertuous  exercises,  she  had  collected  and  written  out 
many  of  the  most  usefull  and  judicious  periods  of  the 
books  she  read  in  a  kind  of  commonplace,  She  had  read 
and  digested  a  considerable  deale  of  history  and  of  places. 
The  French  tongue  was  as  familiar  to  her  as  English; 
she  understood  Italian, . . .  and  she  did  make  very  prudent 
and  discrete  reflexions  upon  what  she  had  observ'd  of  the 
conversations  among  which  she  had  at  any  time  ben, .  .  . 
She  had  an  excellent  voice,  to  which  she  play'd  a  thorough- 
bass on  the  harpsichord,  the  sweetnesse  of  her  voice 
and  management  of  it  added  such  an  agreeablenesse  to 
her  countenance,  without  any  constraint  or  concerne, 
that  when  she  sung,  it  was  as  charming  to  the  eye  as  to 
the  eare ;  What  shall  I  say,  ....  of  the  cheerefullness 
and  agreeablenesse  of  her  humour  ?  condescending  to  the 
meanest  servant  in  the  family.  .  .  .  She  would  often 
reade  to  them,  examine,  instruct,  and  pray  with  them  if 
they  were  sick,  so  as  she  was  exceedingly  beloved  of  every 


body.  Piety  was  so  prevalent  an  ingredient  of  her  con- 
stitution (as  I  may  say),  that  even  amongst  equals  and 
superiors  she  no  sooner  became  intimately  acquainted, 
but  she  would  endeavour  to  improve  them,  by  insinuating 
something  of  religious,  .  .  .  she  had  one  or  two  confidents 
with  whom  she  used  to  passe  whole  dayes  in  fasting, 
reading,  and  prayers,  especialy  before  the  monethly 
communion  and  other  solemn  occasions.  She  abhorr'd 
flattery,  and  tho*  she  had  aboundance  of  witt,  the 
raillery  was  so  innocent  and  ingenuous  that  it  was  most 
agreeable ;  she  sometimes  would  see  a  play,  but  since 
the  stage  grew  licentious,  express'd  herselfe  weary  of 
them,  She  never  play'd  at  cards  without  extreame  im- 
portunity and  for  the  company,  but  this  was  so  very 
seldome  that  I  cannot  number  it  among  any  thing  she 
could  name  a  fault.  No  one  could  read  prose  or  verse 
better  or  with  more  judgment ;  and  as  she  read,  so  she 
writ,  not  only  most  correct  orthography,  with  that 
maturitie  of  judgment  and  exactnesse  of  the  periods, 
choice  of  expressions,  and  familiarity  of  stile,  that  some 
letters  of  hers  have  astonish'd  me  and  others  to  whom 
she  has  occasionally  written.  She  had  a  talent  of  rehersing 
any  comical  part  or  poeme,  as  to  them  she  might  be 
decently  free  with ;  she  daunc'd  with  the  greatest  grace  I 
had  ever  scene.  .  .  .  Nothing  affected,  but  natural  and 
easy  as  well  in  her  deportment  as  in  her  discourse,  which 
was  always  materiall,  not  trifling,  and  to  which  the 
extraordinary  sweetnesse  of  her  tone,  even  in  familiar 
speaking,  was  very  charming.  Nothing  was  so  pretty  as 
her  descending  to  play  with  little  children,  whom  she 
would  caresse  and  humour  with  greate  delight.  But  she 
most  affected  to  be  with  grave  and  sober  men,  of  whom 
she  might  learne  something,  and  improve  herselfe.  .  .  . 

472 


comprehensive  of  uncommon  notions,  curious  of  know- 
ing every  thing  to  some  excesse,  had  I  not  sometimes 
repressed  it.  Nothing  was  so  delightful  to  her  as  to  go 
into  my  study,  where  she  would  willingly  have  spent 
whole  dayes,  for  as  I  sayd  she  had  read  aboundance  of 
history  and  all  the  best  poets,  even  Terence,  Plautus, 
Homer,  Vergil,  Ovid ;  all  the  best  romances  and  modern 
poemes  ;  .  .  .  but  all  these  are  vaine  trifles  to  the  virtues 
which  adorn'd  her  soule ;  .  .  . 

.  .  .  There  were  foure  gentlemen  of  quality  offering  to 
treate  with  me  about  marriage,  and  I  freely  gave  her  her 
owne  choice,  knowing  her  discretion.  She  showed  greate 
indifference  to  marrying  at  all,  for  truly,  says  she  to  her 
mother  (the  other  day),  were  I  assured  of  your  life  and 
my  deare  father's,  never  would  I  part  from  you ;  I  love 
you  and  this  home,  where  we  serve  God,  above  all  things, 
nor  ever  shall  I  be  so  happy ;  I  know  and  consider  the 
vicissitudes  of  the  world,  I  have  some  experience  of  its 
vanities,  and  but  for  decency  more  than  inclination,  and 
that  you  judge  it  expedient  for  me,  I  would  not  change 
my  condition,  but  rather  add  the  fortune  you  designe  me 
to  my  sisters,  .  .  .  This  was  so  discreetly  and  sincerely 
utter'd  that  it  could  not  but  proceede  from  an  extra- 
ordinary child,  .  .  . 

.  .  .  Divers  noble  persons  honour'd  her  funeral,  some  in 
person,  others  sending  their  coaches,  of  which  there  were 
six  or  seven  with  six  horses,  viz.  the  Countesse  of  Sunder- 
land,  Earle  of  Clarendon,  Lord  Godolphin,  Sir  Stephen 
Fox,  Sir  Wm.,  Godolphin,  Viscount  Falkland  and  others. 
There  were  distributed  amongst  her  friends  about  60 
rings.  iud. 

473 


A  LAZY  SON 

LADY  :  It  seemeth  unto  me,  that . . .  parents  and  masters 
ought  to  search  diligently,  if  their  Children  be  adicted  to 
any  vice,  to  free  them  from  the  same,  even  from  their 
youth,  before  they  be  over  much  rooted  in  them.  I  pray 
you  to  tell  me  the  truth  (for  I  am  not  any  of  those  foolish 
mothers,  which  will  never  beleeve  any  imperfections  of 
children,  but  like  the  Ape,  It  seems  unto  them  that  they 
be  above  al  other  faire  and  perfect)  doe  you  finde  any 
bad  inclination  in  mine  ?  .  .  . 

MASTER  :  .  .  .  your  sonne  Guy  is  somwhat  slowe  to  rise  in 
the  morning,  for  one  must  call  him  three  or  foure  times 
before  he  come  out  of  his  bed,  I  have  thought  good  to  tell 
it  you  before  his  face,  specially  at  this  time,  to  the  end  it 
may  please  you  to  take  the  paine  to  tell  him  his  lesson, 
as  well  as  to  his  yonger  brother. 

LADY  :  Is  it  true  ?  Truly  M.  Champorte-advis,  the  greatest 
faulte  is  in  you,  it  is  but  a  benumming  of  the  limbes  that 
he  hath,  which  you  ought  to  supply,  in  annointing  him 
with  the  juice  of  Birch,  which  is  excellent  for  such 
a  cure,  and  if  you  apply  it  but  twise  or  thrice,  You  shall  see 
a  mervailous  operation,  But  if  your  medicine  be  not  of 
force,  let  me  knowe  it,  and  I  will  make  him  such  a  morning 
song  that  it  wil  awake  him  in  all  diligence  and  hasten  him 
more  then  a  good  pace.  Come  hether  freind,  I  am  ashamd 
to  hear  that  what  I  hear  of  you,  .  .  .  You  have  attayned 
to  the  age  of  nyne  yeeres,  at  least  to  eight  and  a  halfe,  and 
seeing  that  you  knowe  your  dutie,  if  you  neglect  it  you 
deserve  greater  punishment  than  he  which  through 
ignorance  doth  it  not.  Think  not  that  the  nobilite  of  your 
Ancesters  doth  free  you  to  doe  all  that  you  list,  contrary- 
wise,  it  bindeth  you  more  to  folio  we  vertue.  .  .  . 

PIERRE  ERONDELL,  The  French  Garden  (1605) 
474 


MIDDLE  CHILDREN 

The  Joyes  of  Parents  are  Secret ;  And  so  are  their  Griefes, 
and  Feares  :  They  cannot  utter  the  one ;  Nor  they  will 
not  utter  the  other.  Children  sweeten  Labours ;  but  they 
make  Misfortunes  more  bitter  :  They  increase  the  Cares 
of  Life  ;  but  they  mitigate  the  Remembrance  of  Death. .  . . 
The  Difference  in  Affection,  of  Parents,  towards  their 
severall  Children,  is  many  Times  unequall ;  And  some- 
times unworthy ;  Especially  in  the  Mother ;  as  Salomon 
saith  ;  A  wise  Sonne  rejoyceth  the  Father  ;  but  an  ungracious 
Sonne  shames  the  Mother.  A  Man  shall  see,  where  there 
is  a  house  full  of  Children,  one  or  two,  of  the  eldest, 
respected,  and  the  youngest  made  Wantons  ;  But  in  the 
middest,  some  that  are,  as  it  were  forgotten,  who,  many 
times,  neverthelesse,  prove  the  best.  FRANCIS  BACON 
Essay es  :  Of  Parents  and  Children  (1625) 


BYRON'S  DAUGHTER 

I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  from  you,  and  of  your  children  and 
mine.  By  the  way,  it  seems  that  I  have  got  another — a 
daughter,  by  that  same  lady,  whom  you  will  recognise  by 
what  I  said  of  her  in  former  letters. — I  mean  her  who 
returned  to  England  to  become  a  Mamma  incog.,  and  who 
I  pray  the  Gods  to  keep  there.  I  am  a  little  puzzled  how 
to  dispose  of  this  new  production  (which  is  two  or  three 
months  old,  though  I  did  not  receive  the  accounts  till  at 
Rome)  but  shall  probably  send  for  and  place  it  in  a  Venetian 
convent,  to  become  a  good  Catholic,  and  (it  may  be)  a 
Nun,  being  a  character  somewhat  wanted  in  our  family. 

475 


They  tell  me  it  is  very  pretty,  with  blue  eyes  and  dark 
hair ;  and,  although  I  never  was  attached  nor  pretended 
attachment  to  the  mother,  still  in  case  of  the  eternal  war 
and  alienation  which  I  foresee  about  my  legitimate  daugh- 
ter, Ada,  it  may  be  as  well  to  have  something  to  repose  a 
hope  upon.  I  must  love  something  in  my  old  age,  and 
probably  circumstances  will  render  this  poor  little  crea- 
ture a  great,  and  perhaps  my  only,  comfort. 

LORD  BYRON 
Letter  to  the  Hon.  Augusta  Leigh  (1817) 


My  little  girl,  Allegra,  (the  child  I  spoke  to  you  of)  has 
been  with  me  these  three  months  :  she  is  very  pretty, 
remarkably  intelligent  and  a  great  favourite  with  every- 
body ; . . .  She  has  very  blue  eyes,  and  that  singular  fore- 
head, fair  curly  hair,  and  a  devil  of  a  Spirit — but  that  is 
Papa's.  Ibid.  (1818) 


About  Allegra,  I  can  only  say  to  Claire,  that  I  so  totally 
disapprove  of  the  mode  of  children's  treatment  in  their 
[the  Shelley's]  family,  that  I  should  look  upon  the  Child 
as  going  into  a  hospital.  Is  it  not  so  ?  Have  they  reared 
one  ?  Her  health  here  has  hitherto  been  excellent^  and  her 
temper  not  bad  ;  she  is  sometimes  vain  and  obstinate,  but 
always  clean  and  cheerful,  and  as  in  a  year  or  two  I  shall 
either  send  her  to  England  or  put  her  in  a  Convent  for 
education,  these  defects  will  be  remedied  as  far  as  they 
can  in  human  nature.  But  the  Child  shall  not  quit  me 
again  to  perish  of  Starvation  and  green  fruit,  or  be  taught 
to  believe  that  there  is  no  Deity.  .  .  . 

476 


The  Girl  is  not  so  well  off  as  with  you,  but  far  better 
than  with  them  ;  the  fact  is  she  is  spoilt,  being  a  great 
favourite  with  every  body  on  account  of  the  fairness  of 
her  skin,  which  shines  among  their  dusky  children  like 
the  milky  way.  .  .  .  She  has  grown  considerably,  is  very 
clean  and  lively.  She  has  plenty  of  air  and  exercise  at  home, 
and  she  goes  out  daily  with  Me  Guiccioli  in  her  carriage 
to  the  Corso. 


Letter  to  R.  B.  Hoppner  (1820) 


Clare  writes  me  the  most  insolent  letters  about  Allegra  ; 
see  what  a  man  gets  by  taking  care  of  natural  children. 
Were  it  not  for  the  poor  little  child's  sake,  I  am  almost 
tempted  to  send  her  back  to  her  atheistical  mother,  but 
that  would  be  too  bad.  You  cannot  conceive  the  excess  of 
her  insolence,  and  I  know  not  why,  for  I  have  been 
at  great  care  and  expense,  taking  a  house  in  the  country 
on  purpose  for  her  [Allegra].  She  has  two  maids,  and  every 
possible  attention.  If  Clare  thinks  she  shall  ever  interfere 
with  the  child's  morals  or  education,  she  mistakes ;  she 
never  shall.  The  girl  shall  be  a  Christian,  and  a  married 
woman,  if  possible.  .  .  .  She  may  see  her,  under  proper 
restrictions  ;  but  she  is  not  to  throw  everything  into  con- 
fusion with  her  Bedlam  behaviour.  To  express  it  deli- 
cately, I  think  Madame  Clare  is  a  damned  bitch.  What 
think  you  ?  Ibidf  (l820j 


I  have  neither  spared  trouble  nor  expense  in  the  care  of 
the  child;  and  as  she  was  now  four  years  old  complete,  and 
quite  above  the  control  of  the  servants, — and  as  a  man 

477 


living  without  any  woman  at  the  head  of  his  house  cannot 
much  attend  to  a  nursery — I  had  no  resource  but  to  place 
her  for  a  time  (at  a  high  pension  too)  in  the  convent  of 
Bagna-Cavalli,  (twelve  miles  off)  where  the  air  is  good, 
and  where  she  will,  at  least,  have  her  learning  advanced 
and  her  morals  and  religion  inculcated.  .  .  .  Abroad, 
with  a  fair  foreign  education  and  a  portion  of  five  or 
six  thousand  pounds,  she  might  and  may  marry  very 
respectably.  nidt  (l82I) 


I  am  no  enemy  to  religion,  but  the  contrary.  As  a  proof, 
I  am  educating  my  natural  daughter  a  strict  Catholic  in 
a  convent  of  Romagna  ;  for  I  think  people  can  never  have 
enough  of  religion,  if  they  are  to  have  any.  ^^ 

Letter  to  Thomas  Moore  (1822) 


AFFECTIONATE  APES 

The  she  Apes  of  all  sorts  are  wondrous  fond  of  their  little 
ones  :  and  such  as  are  made  tame  within  house  will  carry 
them  in  their  armes  all  about  so  soon  as  they  have  brought 
them  into  the  world,  keepe  a  shewing  of  them  to  every 
bodie,  and  they  take  pleasure  to  have  them  dandled  by 
others,  as  if  thereby  they  tooke  knowledge  that  folke  joyed 
for  their  safe  deliverance  :  but  such  a  culling  and  hugging 
of  them  they  keep,  that  in  the  end  with  very  clasping  and 
clipping  they  kill  them  many  times.  PLINY  THE  ELDER 

Natural  History  (c.  77) 
Trans.  Philemon  Holland  (1601) 

478 


TREATING  THEM  ROUGH 

The  old  Lord  Gray  (our  English  Achilles)  when  hee  was 
Deputie  of  Ireland,  to  inure  his  sonnes  for  the  warre, 
would  usually  in  the  depths  of  Winter,  in  frost,  snow, 
raine,  and  what  weather  soever  fell,  cause  them  at  midnight 
to  be  raised  out  of  their  beds,  and  carried  abroad  on  hunting 
till  the  next  morning,  then  perhaps  come  wet  and  cold  home, 
having  for  a  breakefast,  a  browne  loafe  and  a  mouldie 
Cheese,  or  (which  is  ten  times  worse)  a  dish  of  Irish  butter : 
and  in  this  manner  the  Spartans  and  Laconians  dieted  and 
brought  up  their  children,  till  they  come  into  mans  estate. 

HENRY   PEACHAM 

The  Compleat  Gentleman  (1622) 


COCKERING  THEM 

Fond  and  foolish  Parents  .  .  .  whose  cockering  and  apish 
indulgence  (to  the  corrupting  of  the  minds  of  their 
Children,  disabling  their  wits,  effeminating  their  bodies) 
how  bitterly  doth  Plato  taxe  and  abhorre  ! 

Ibid. 


Bronchus  the  son  of  Apollo^  whom  he  begot  of  Jance> 
Succrons  daughter  (saith  Lactantius)  when  he  kept  King 
Admetus9  beards  in  Thessaly,  now  grown  a  man,  was  an 
earnest  suitor  to  his  mother  to  know  his  father ;  the 
Nymph  denied  him,  because  Apollo  had  conjured  her  to 
the  contrary ;  yet  overcome  by  his  importunity,  at  last 

479 


she  sent  him  to  his  father ;  when  he  came  into  Apollo's 
presence,  ...  he  carried  himself  so  well,  and  was  so 
fair  a  yong  man,  that  Apollo  was  infinitely  taken  with 
the  beauty  of  his  person,  he  could  scarce  look  off  him 
and  said  he  was  worthy  of  such  parents,  gave  him  a  crown 
of  gold,  the  spirit  of  Divination,  and  in  conclusion  made 
him  a  Demi-god. 

ROBERT  BURTON 

Anatomic  of  Melancholy  (1621.  Edition  1652) 


PARTIES 


GOING  OUT  TO  DINNER 

I  am  vexed  that  you  have  given  up  going  out  to  dinner, 
for  you  have  deprived  yourself  of  much  pleasure  and 
delight.  Then  too,  I  am  afraid  (for  I  may  speak  the  truth 
to  you)  that  you  will  unlearn  and  forget  your  habit  of 
giving  little  dinners  yourself.  .  .  . 

But  by  Hercules,  Paetus,  joking  apart,  I  advise  you  to 
do  what  I  believe  belongs  to  a  happy  life,  and  associate 
with  good,  and  agreeable  men  who  are  fond  of  you. 
Nothing  is  better  suited  to  happy  living.  And  I  don't  re- 
fer to  the  pleasures  of  appetite,  but  to  good  fellowship,  and 
that  relaxation  of  mind  which  is  effected  most  by  familiar 
conversation,  and  which  is  most  delightful  at  convivial 
banquets,  as  our  nation,  wiser  than  the  Greeks,  call  them  ; 

480 


for  the  latter  call  them  symposia,  or  syndeipna,  that  is, 
drinkings  together,  or  dining  together,  but  we  call  them 
"  livings  together,"  for  then  do  our  lives  most  meet. 
You  see  how  I  am  trying  to  recall  you  to  dinners  by 
philosophy  ?  Take  care  to  keep  well.  The  easiest  way  to  do 
this  is  to  dine  out. 

CICERO 

Letter  to  Papirius  Paetus  (43  B.C.) 


SUPPER  WITH  THE  WARDEN  OF  WADHAM 

I  sup'd  with  the  warden  of  Wadham  at  his  lodgings, 
Mr.  Lloyd  being  with  me.  He  desir'd  Mr  Lloyd  to  bring 
me  with  him.  He  gave  me  roast  meat  and  beat  me  with  the 
spit.  He  told  me  that  my  book  was  full  of  contumelies, 
falsities,  contradictions,  and  full  of  frivolous  stuff.  .  .  .  He 
had  the  book  there  and  read  it  scornfully. 

ANTHONY   WOOD 

Life  and  Times  (1674) 


CAROUSING  IN  GUIANA 

Those  Guianians  and  also  the  borderers,  and  all  others  in  that 
tract  which  I  have  seen  are  marveylous  great  drunkardes, 
in  which  vice  I  think  no  nation  can  compare  with  them  : 
and  at  the  times  of  their  solemne  feasts  when  the  Emperor 
carowseth  with  his  Captayns,  tributories,  and  governours, 
the  manner  is  thus.  All  those  that  pledge  him  are  first 
stripped  naked,  and  their  bodies  annoynted  al  over  with  a 
kinde  of  white  Balsamum  (by  them  called  Curcai)  of  which 
Qp  481 


there  is  great  plenty  and  yet  very  deare  amongst  them,  and 
it  is  of  all  other  the  most  pretious,  whereof  we  have  had 
good  experience :  when  they  are  annointed  all  over,  certaine 
servants  of  the  Emperor  having  prepared  gold  made  into 
fine  powder  blow  it  thorow  hollow  canes  upon  their  naked 
bodies,  until  they  be  al  shining  from  the  foote  to  the  head, 
and  in  this  sort  they  sit  drinking  by  twenties  and  hundreds 
and  continue  in  drunkennes  sometimes  sixe  or  seven  daies 
togither  :  the  same  is  also  confirmed  by  a  letter  written 
into  Spaine  which  was  intercepted,  which  master  Robert 
Dudley  told  me  he  had  seen.  SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH 

The  Discoverie  of  Guiana  (1596) 


MR.  PEPYS  ENTERTAINS 

April  28, 1667.  We  had,  with  my  wife  and  I,  twelve  at  table, 
and  very  good  and  pleasant  company,  and  a  most  neat  and 
excellent  but  dear  dinner  ;  but  Lord  !  to  see  with  what 
envy  they  looked  upon  all  my  fine  plate  was  pleasant ; 
for  I  made  the  best  shew  I  could,  to  let  them  understand 
me  and  my  condition,  to  take  down  the  pride  of  Mrs  Clerke, 
who  thinks  herself  very  great.  We  sat  long,  and  very  merry, 
and  all  things  agreeable  ;  and,  after  dinner,  went  out  by 
coaches  .  .  .  but  I  thought  all  the  charge  ought  not  to  be 
mine,  and  therefore  I  endeavoured  to  part  the  company. 

Jan.  6, 1668.  By  and  by  to  my  house,  to  a  very  good  sup- 
per, and  mighty  merry,  and  good  musick  playing ;  and  after 
supper  to  dancing  and  singing  till  about  twelve  at  night ; 
and  then  we  had  a  good  sack  posset  for  them,  and  an  excel- 
lent cake,  cost  me  near  2os.,  of  our  Jane's  making,  which  was 

482 


cut  into  twenty  pieces,  there  being  by  this  time  so  many 
of  our  company,  by  the  coming  in  of  ...  some  others  of 
our  neighbours,  young  men  that  could  dance,  hearing  of 
our  dancing ;  .  .  .  And  so  to  dancing  again,  and  singing, 
with  extraordinary  great  pleasure,  till  about  two  in  the 

morning,  and  then  broke  up They  being  gone,  I  paid 

the  fiddlers  £3  among  the  four,  and  so  away  to  bed,  weary 
and  mightily  pleased,  and  have  the  happiness  to  reflect 
upon  it  as  I  do  sometimes  on  other  things,  as  going  to  a 
play  or  the  like,  to  be  the  greatest  real  comfort  that  I  am 
to  expect  in  the  world,  and  that  it  is  that  that  we  do  really 
labour  in  the  hopes  of;  and  so  I  do  really  enjoy  myself,  and 
understand  that  if  I  do  not  do  it  now  I  shall  not  hereafter, 
it  may  be,  be  able  to  pay  for  it,  or  have  health  to  take 
pleasure  in  it,  and  so  fill  myself  up  with  vain  expectations 
of  pleasure  and  go  without  it. 

March  i.  1669.  Did  resolve  to  go  on  with  our  feast  and 
dancing  to-morrow  ;  and  so,  after  supper,  left  the  maids 
to  make  clean  the  house,  and  to  lay  the  cloth,  and  other 
things  against  to-morrow,  and  we  to  bed. 

March  2.  Up  and  at  the  office  till  noon,  when  home, 
and  there  I  find  my  company  come  ...  I  had  a  noble 
dinner  for  them  as  I  almost  ever  had,  and  mighty  merry, 
and  particularly  pleased  with  looking  on  Betty  Turner, 
who  is  mighty  pretty.  We  fell  to  dancing,  and  continued, 
only  with  intermission  for  a  good  supper,  till  two  in  the 
morning,  the  musick  being  Greeting,  and  another  most  ex- 
cellent violin,  and  theorbo,  the  best  in  town.  And  so  with  a 
mighty  mirth,  and  pleased  with  their  dancing  of  jigs . . .  and 
lastly  W.  Batelier's  "  Blackmore  and  Blackmore  Mad," 
and  then  to  a  country-dance  again,  and  so  broke  up  with 

483 


extraordinary  pleasure,  as  being  one  of  the  days  and  nights 
of  my  life  spent  with  the  greatest  content ;  and  that  which  I 
can  but  hope  to  repeat  again  a  few  times  in  my  whole  life. 

March  6.  This  day  my  wife  made  it  appear  to  me  that 
my  late  entertainment  this  week  cost  me  above  £12,  an 
expence  which  I  am  almost  ashamed  of,  though  it  is  but 
once  in  a  great  while,  and  is  the  end  for  which,  in  the  most 
part,  we  live,  to  have  such  a  merry  day  once  or  twice  in  a 
man's  life. 

SAMUEL   PEPYS 

Diary 
BALLS 

Twice  a  week  there  is  a  ball.  ...  I  was  there  Friday  last 
with  my  aunt.  .  .  .  The  place  was  so  hot,  and  the  smell  so 
different  from  what  we  are  used  to  in  the  country,  that  I 
was  quite  feverish  when  we  came  away.  Aunt  says  it  is  the 
effect  of  a  vulgar  constitution,  reared  among  woods  and 
mountains,  and  that  as  I  become  accustomed  to  genteel 
company,  it  will  wear  off. 

TOBIAS   SMOLLETT 

Humphrey  Clinker  (1771) 


AL  FRESCO 

.  .  .  The  other  evening  we  happened  to  be  got  together 
in  a  company  of  eighteen  people,  men  and  women  of  the 
best  fashion  here,  at  a  garden  in  the  town  to  walk  ;  when 
one  of  the  ladies  bethought  herself  of  asking.  Why  should 

484 


we  not  sup  here  ?  Immediately  the  cloth  was  laid  by  the 
side  of  a  fountain  under  the  trees,  and  a  very  elegant  supper 
served  up  ;  after  which  another  said.  Come,  let  us  sing ; 
and  directly  began  herself:  From  singing  we  insensibly 
fell  to  dancing,  and  singing  in  a  round  ;  when  somebody 
mentioned  the  violins,  and  immediately  a  company  of  them 
was  ordered  :  Minuets  were  held  in  the  open  air,  and  then 
came  country  dances,  which  held  till  four  o'clock  next 
morning,  at  which  hour  the  gayest  lady  there  proposed 
that  such  as  were  weary  should  get  into  their  coaches, 
and  the  rest  of  them  should  dance  before  them,  with  the 
music  in  the  van ;  and  in  this  manner  we  paraded  through  all 
the  principal  streets  of  the  city,  and  waked  every  body  in  it. 
Mr  Walpole  had  a  mind  to  make  a  custom  of  the  thing. .  . . 

THOMAS   GRAY 
Letter  to  his  mother  (Rheims,  1739) 


AT  MR.  CONOLLY'S 

The  ball  at  Mr.  Conolly's  was  by  no  means  delightful — 
the  house  is  small,  it  was  hot,  and  was  composed  of  young 

HORACE  WALPOLE 

Letter  to  George  Montagu  (1759) 


A  THE 

.  .  .  and  came  home  in  the  evening  to  a  The  at  Mrs 
Montagu's.  Perhaps  you  do  not  know  that  a  The  is  among 
the  stupid  new  follies  of  the  winter.  You  are  to  invite  fifty 

485 


to  a  hundred  people  to  come  at  eight  o'clock  :  there  is  to 
be  a  long  table,  or  little  parties  at  small  ones  ;  the  cloth  is 
to  be  laid,  as  at  breakfast ;  the  table  is  covered  with  rolls, 
wafers,  bread  and  butter ;  and  what  constitutes  the  very 
essence  of  a  The,  an  immense  load  of  hot  buttered  rolls 
and  muffins,  all  admirably  contrived  to  create  a  nausea  in 
persons  fresh  from  the  dinner  table.  Now,  of  all  nations 
under  the  sun,  as  I  take  it,  the  English  are  the  greatest 
fools  : — because  the  Duke  of  Dorset  in  Paris,  where 
people  dine  at  two,  thought  this  would  be  a  pretty  fashion 
to  introduce,  we,  who  dine  at  six,  must  adopt  this  French 
translation  of  an  English  fashion.  .  .  .  This  will  be  a  short 

HANNAH   MORE 

Letter  to  her  Sister  (1788) 


A  LATE  PARTY 

LADY  :  What  is  it  a  clocke  ?  I  beleeve  it  is  verie  late. 
MISTRIS  :  It  is  halfe  an  houre  past  ten  Madam,  almost 
eleven. 

LADY  :  We  have  been  long  at  supper,  then  afterward  we 
have  had  dauncing  .  .  .  then  came  a  Maske  which  made  a 
faire  shewe.  They  played  at  Gardes,  at  Cent,  at  Primeroe, 
at  trompe,  at  dice,  at  Tables,  at  lurch,  at  Draughts,  at 
perforce,  at  pleasant,  at  blowing,  at  Queenes  game,  at 
Chesses  :  The  Maydens  did  play  at  purposes,  at  sales,  to 
thinke,  at  wonders,  at  states,  at  vertues,  at  answers,  so 
that  we  could  not  come  sooner,  but  it  is  all  one.  We  will 
sleepe  the  longer  to-morrow  for  amends. 

PIERRE   ERONDELL 

The  French  Garden  (1605) 
486 


COMING  OUT  AS  ONE  GOES  IN 

We  talked  of  an  evening  society  for  conversation  at  a 
house  in  town  ...  of  which  Johnson  said,  "  It  will  never 
do.  Sir.  There  is  nothing  served  about  there,  neither  tea, 
nor  coffee,  nor  lemonade,  nor  anything  whatever ;  and 
depend  upon  it,  Sir,  a  man  does  not  love  to  go  to  a  place 
from  which  he  comes  out  exactly  as  he  went  in.  ...  I 
told  Mrs  Thrale  once,  that  as  she  did  not  choose  to  have 
card  tables,  she  should  have  a  profusion  of  the  best  sweet- 
meats, and  she  would  be  sure  to  have  company  enough 
come  to  her." 

JAMES   BOSWELL 

Life  of  Johnson  (1791) 


SOCIAL  SUCCESS 

The  servant  gave  me  my  coat  and  hat,  and  in  a  glow  of  self- 
satisfaction  I  walked  out  into  the  night.  "  A  delightful 
evening,"  I  reflected,  "  the  nicest  kind  of  people.  What  I 
said  about  finance  and  French  philosophy  impressed  them ; 
and  how  they  laughed  when  I  imitated  a  pig  squealing." 
But  soon  after,  "  God,  it's  awful,"  I  muttered,  "  I 
wish  I  were  dead." 

LOGAN   PEARSALL   SMITH 

Trivia  (1918) 


487 


PATRIOTISM 


BRITISH 

England  as  Good  as  Italy 

I  find  no  cause  nor  judge  I  reason  why 
My  Countrey  should  give  place  to  Lumbardy. 
As  goodly  flow'rs  on  Thamesis  doe  growe 
As  beautifies  the  Bankes  of  wanton  Po  ; 
As  many  Nymphs  as  haunt  rich  Arnus'  strand 
By  silver  Severne  tripping  hand  in  hand 
Our  shade's  as  sweet,  though  not  to  us  so  deere, 
Because  the  Sunne  hath  greater  power  there. 
MICHAEL  DRAYTON,  England's  Heroicall  Epistles  (159?) 

And  the  English  as  Witty  as  any  People 

Be  it  spoken  to  the  honour  of  the  English,  our  nation  can 
never  want  in  any  age  such  who  are  able  to  dispute  the 
Empire  of  Wit  with  any  People  in  the  Universe. 

JOHN  DRYDEN,  Dramatick  Poesy  (1668) 

In  Fact.,  God's  Chosen  Nation 

What  does  he  then  but  reveal  Himself  to  his  servants,  and 
as  his  manner  is,  first  to  his  Englishmen.  .  .  .  Behold  now 

488 


this  vast  City ;  a  City  of  refuge,  the  mansion  house  of 
liberty,  encompast  and  surrounded  with  his  protection ; 
.  . .  there  be  pens  and  hands  there,  sitting  by  their  studious 
lamps,  musing,  searching,  revolving  new  notions,  and 
idea's  .  .  .  others  as  fast  reading,  trying  all  things,  assent- 
ing to  the  force  of  reason  and  convincement.  What  could  a 
man  require  more  from  a  Nation  so  pliant  and  so  prone  to 
seek  after  knowledge.  What  wants  there  to  such  a  towardly 
and  pregnant  soile,  but  wise  and  faithfull  labourers,  to 
make  a  knowing  people,  a  Nation  of  Prophets,  of  Sages, 
and  of  Worthies. 

JOHN  MILTON 

Areopagitica  (1643) 

The  Best  Patron  Saint 

Henry  the  Fifth,  he  conquered  all  France, 
He  quartered  their  Arms,  his  Honour  to  advance, 
He  rac'd  their  Walls,  and  pull'd  their  Cities  down, 
And  he  garnished  his  Head  with  a  double  tripple  Crown, 
He  thumped  the  French,  and  after  home  he  came ; 
But  St.  George,  St.  George  he  made  the  Dragon  tame  : 
St.  George  he  was  for  England,  St.  Dennis  was  for 

France, 
Sing,  Honi  soit  qui  maly  pence. 

St.  David  you  know  loves  Leeks  and  toasted  Cheese, 
And  Jason  was  the  Man  brought  home  the  Golden  Fleece, 
And  Patrick  you  know  he  was  St.  George's  Boy, 
Seven  Years  he  kept  his  Horse,  and  then  stole  him  away, 
For  which  Knavish  Act,  a  Slave  he  doth  remain  ; 
St.  George,  St.  George  he  hath  the  Dragon  slain  : 
St.  George  he  was  for  England,  etc.  .  .  . 
489 


Poldragon  and  Cadwallader  of  British  Blood  did  boast ; 
Tho'  John  of  Gaunt  his  Foes  did  daunt,  St  George  shall 

rule  the  Roast ; 

Agamemnon,  and  Clemedon,  at  Macedon  did  Feats, 
But  compared  to  our  Champion,  they  are  but  meerly 

Cheats  ; 
Brave  Malta  Knights  in  Turkish  Fights,  their  brandish'd 

Swords   outdrew ; 
But  St.  George,  St.  George  met  the  Dragon,  and  run  him 

thro5  and  thro'. 
St.  George  he  was  for  England,  etc.  ANON 

A  New  Ballad  of  St.  George  and  the  Dragon 

(late  iyth  c.) 

The  Only  Peaceful  Country 

Now  warre  is  all  the  world  about, 
And  every  where  Erynnis  raignes, 
Or  else  the  Torch  so  late  put  out 
The  stench  remaines. 
Holland  for  many  yeares  hath  beene 
Of  Christian  tragedies  the  stage, 
Yet  seldome  hath  she  play'd  a  Scene 
Of  bloudyer  rage. 

And  France  that  was  not  long  composed 
With  civill  Drummes  againe  resounds, 
And  ere  the  old  one  fully  clos'd 
Receives  new  wounds. 
The  great  Gustavus  in  the  west 
Plucks  the  Imperiall  Eagles  wing, 
Than  whom  the  earth  did  ne're  invest 
A  fiercer  King.  .  .  . 
What  should  I  tell  of  Polish  Bands, 
490 


And  the  blouds  boyling  in  the  North  ? 

Gainst  whom  the  furied  Russians 

Their  troops  bring  forth.  .  .  . 

Only  the  Island  which  wee  sowe, 

(A  world  within  the  world)  so  farre 

From  present  wounds,  it  cannot  showe 

An  ancient  skarre. 

White  Peace  (the  beautiful'st  of  things) 

Seemes  here  her  everlasting  rest 

To  fix,  and  spreads  her  downy  wings 

Over  the  nest. 

As  when  great  Jove  usurping  Reigne 

From  the  plagu'd  world  did  her  exile. 

And  ty'd  her  with  a  golden  chaine 

To  one  blest  Isle. 

Which  in  a  sea  of  plenty  swamme, 

And  Turtles  sang  on  every  bough, 

A  safe  retreat  to  all  that  came, 

As  ours  is  now. 

SIR  RICHARD   FANSHAWE 

Ode  (1630) 
Writing  in  English 

I  apply'd  myselfe  to  that  resolution  which  Ariosto  follow'd 
against  the  perswasions  of  Bembo,  to  fix  all  the  industry 
and  art  I  could  unite  to  the  adorning  of  my  native  tongue; 
not  to  make  verbal  curosities  the  end,  that  were  a  toylsom 
vanity,  but  to  be  an  interpreter  and  relater  of  the  best  and 
sagest  things  among  mine  own  Citizens  throughout  this 
Hand  in  the  mother  dialect.  That  which  the  greatest  and 
choycest  wits  of  Athens,  Rome,  or  modern  Italy,  and  those 
Hebrews  of  old  did  for  their  country,  I  in  my  proportion 
with  this  over  and  above  of  being  a  Christian,  might  doe 

491 


for  mine  :  not  caring  to  be  once  nam'd  abroad,  though 
perhaps  I  could  attaine  to  that,  but  content  with  these 
British  Hands  as  my  world,  whose  fortune  hath  hitherto 
bin,  that  if  the  Athenians,  as  some  say,  made  their  small 
deeds  great  and  renowned  by  their  eloquent  writers,  Eng- 
landhaih  had  her  noble  achievments  made  small  by  the  un- 
skilfull  handling  of  monks  and  mechanicks .  JOHN  MILTON 

The  Reason  of  Church-government  urg'd  against 

Prelaty  (1641) 

British    Trade 

291. 
The  utmost  Malice  of  their  Stars  is  past, 

And  two  dire  Comets  which  have  scourg'd  the  Town, 
In  their  own  Plague  and  Fire  have  breath'd  their  last : 

Or,  dimly,  in  their  sinking  sockets  frown. 

293. 
Me-thinks  already,  from  this  Chymick  flame, 

I  see  a  City  of  more  precious  mold  : 
Rich  as  the  Town  which  gives  the  Indies  name, 

With  Silver  pav'd,  and  all  divine  with  Gold. 

295. 
More  great  than  human,  now,  and  more  August, 

New  deified  she  from  her  Fires  does  rise  : 
Her  widening  Streets,  on  new  Foundations  trust, 

And,  opening,  into  larger  parts  she  flies. 

297. 
Now,  like  a  Maiden  Queen,  she  will  behold, 

From  her  high  Turrets,  hourly  Sutors  come  : 
The  East  with  Incense,  and  the  West  with  Gold, 
Will  stand,  like  Suppliants,  to  receive  her  Doom. 
492 


298. 
The  silver  Thames,,  her  own  domestick  Floud, 

Shall  bear  her  Vessels,  like  a  sweeping  Train  ; 
And  often  wind  (as  of  his  Mistress  proud) 

With  longing  eyes  to  meet  her  Face  again 

299. 
The  wealthy  Tagus,  and  the  wealthier  Rhine, 

The  glory  of  their  Towns  no  more  shall  boast : 
And  Sein,  that  would  with  Belgian  Rivers  join, 

Shall  find  her  Lustre  stain'd,  and  Traffick  lost. 

300. 
The  vent'rous  Merchant,  who  design'd  more  far, 

And  touches  on  our  hospitable  Shore, 
Charm' d  with  the  Spendour  of  this  Northern  Star, 

Shall  here  unlade  him,  and  depart  no  more. 

301. 
Our  powerful  Navy  shall  no  longer  meet, 

The  wealth  of  France  or  Holland  to  invade  : 
The  beauty  of  this  Town  without  a  Fleet, 

From  all  the  world  shall  vindicate  her  Trade. 

302. 
And  while  this  fam'd  Emporium  we  prepare, 

The  British  Ocean  shall  such  Triumphs  boast, 
That  those  who  now  disdain  our  Trade  to  share, 

Shall  rob  like  Pyrats  on  our  wealthy  Coast. 

303. 
Already  we  have  conquer'd  half  the  War, 

And  the  less  dang'rous  part  is  left  behind  : 
Our  Trouble  now  is  but  to  make  them  dare, 

And  not  so  great  to  Vanquish  as  to  Find 

493 


304. 

Thus  to  the  Eastern  wealth  through  Storms  we  go. 
But  now,  the  Cape  once  doubled,  fear  no  more  : 
A  constant  Trade-wind  will  securely  blow. 
And  gently  lay  us  on  the  Spicy  shore. 

JOHN  DRYDEN,  Annus  Mirdbilis  (1666) 

A  Fond  Hope 

When  Britain  first  at  heaven's  command, 
Arose  from  out  the  azure  main ; 
This  was  the  charter  of  the  land, 
And  guardian  Angels  sung  this  strain  : 
"  Rule,  Britannia,  rule  the  waves ; 
Britons  never  will  be  slaves." 

The  nations,  not  so  blest  as  thee, 
Must,  in  their  turn,  to  tryants  fall : 
Whilst  thou  shalt  flourish  great  and  free, 
The  dread  and  envy  of  them  all. 

Still  more  majestic  shalt  thou  rise, 
More  dreadful,  from  each  foreign  stroke  : 
As  the  loud  blast  that  tears  the  skies, 
Serves  but  to  root  thy  native  oak. 

Thee  haughty  tyrants  ne'er  shall  tame : 
All  their  attempts  to  bend  thee  down. 
Will  but  arouse  thy  generous  flame  ; 
And  work  their  woe,  and  thy  renown. 

To  thee  belongs  the  rural  reign ; 
Thy  cities  shall  with  commerce  shine  : 
All  thine  shall  be  the  subject  main, 
And  every  shore  it  circles  thine. 

494 


The  muses,  still  with  freedom  found. 

Shall  to  thy  happy  coast  repair  : 

Blest  isle,  with  matchless  beauty  crown'd, 

And  manly  hearts  to  guard  the  fair. 

"  Rule,  Britannia,  rule  the  waves  ; 

Britons  never  will  be  slaves." 


JAMES   THOMSON 

Alfred  (1740) 


ROMAN 

Caring  for  the  Republic 

Mind  you  do  not  suspect  me  of  having  given  up  my  care 
for  the  republic.  Be  sure  of  this,  Paetus,  that,  day  and 
night,  I  have  no  other  motive  or  anxiety  but  that  my  fellow 
citizens  should  be  safe  and  free.  On  no  occasion  do  I  omit 
to  advise,  act,  and  look  ahead.  In  short,  I  am  of  such  a 
mind  that,  if  in  this  charge  and  administration,  my  life 
should  be  taken,  I  shall  consider  myself  to  have  done 
nobly.  CICERO 

Letter  to  Paetus  (43  B.C.) 

Rome  shall  rule 

stet  Capitolium 

Fulgens  triumphaatisque  possit 
Roma  ferox  dare  jura  Medis. 

Horrenda  late  nomen  in  ultimas 
Extendat  oras,  qua  medius  liquor 
Secernit  Europen  ab  Afro, 

Qua  tumidus  rigat  arva  Nilus.  .  .  . 

495 


Quicumque  mundo  terminus  obstitit, 
Hunc  tanget  armis,  visere  gestiens, 
Qua  parte  debacchantur  ignes, 
Qua  nebulae  pluviique  rores. 

[Let  the  Capitol  stand  in  glory,  and  let  brave  Rome  be 
able  to  dictate  laws  to  the  conquered  Medes.  Feared  far 
and  wide,  let  her  spread  her  name  to  the  farthest  shores, 
where  the  middle  sea  divides  Europe  from  the  African, 
where  the  swelling  Nile  waters  the  field.  .  .  .  Whatever 
boundary  is  set  to  the  world,  this  she  shall  touch  with  her 
armies,  rejoicing  to  visit  both  the  regions  where  fires 
rave,  and  those  where  there  are  mists  and  rainy  dews.] 

HORACE 
De  Roma  Troiaque.  Carmina>  Bk.  Ill  (c.  20  B.C.) 


ATHENIAN 

We  laugh  at  the  simplicity  of  him  who  said  that  the  moon 
at  Athens  was  better  than  the  moon  at  Corinth. 

PLUTARCH,  Morals  (c.  100) 

SPARTAN 

Sparta  is  fallen  to  thy  lot  (saith  the  proverbe) ;  adorne  and 
honour  it,  for  so  thou  are  bound  to  doe ;  be  it  that  it  is 
of  small  or  no  account ;  say  that  it  is  seated  in  an  unwhole- 
some aire,  and  subject  to  many  diseases  ;  or  plagued  with 
civill  dissensions,  or  otherwise  troubled.  .  .  . 

Ibid. 

Trans.  Philemon  Holland  (1601) 
496 


FRENCH 


I  have  passed  the  world  by,  and  I  have  taken  history  for 
my  life.  Now  it  is  over.  I  regret  nothing.  I  demand  noth- 
ing. Ah,  what  should  I  demand,  dear  France,  with  whom 
I  have  lived,  whom  I  leave  with  so  much  regret !  With 
what  close  companionship  I  have  passed  with  you  forty 
years  (ten  centuries).  What  passionate,  noble,  austere 
hours  we  have  had  together  before  dawn,  even  in  winter  ! 
What  days  of  toil  and  study  deep  in  the  archives  !  For  you 
I  worked,  came  and  went,  searched,  wrote.  Each  day  I 
gave  the  whole  of  myself,  perhaps  even  more.  Each  new 
morning,  finding  you  on  my  table,  I  felt  myself  one  with 
you,  strong  with  your  powerful  life  and  with  your  eternal 
youth. 

But  how  is  it  that,  having  had  the  singular  happiness  of 
such  a  society,  having  lived  for  long  years  with  your  great 
soul,  I  have  not  profted  more  in  myself  ?  Ah  !  it  is  because, 
in  order  to  re-create  all  that  for  you,  I  have  had  to  re- 
tread the  long  road  of  misery,  of  cruel  experiences,  of  a 
hundred  morbid  and  deadly  things.  I  have  drunk  too  much 
bitterness.  I  have  swallowed  too  many  calamities,  too 
many  vipers,  too  many  kings. 

Well,  my  great  France,  if  it  has  been  necessary,  in  order 
to  find  again  your  life,  that  one  man  should  give  himself, 
should  pass  and  re-pass  so  many  times  the  river  of  the 
dead,  he  consoles  himself  for  it ;  more,  he  thanks  you. 
And  his  greatest  grief  is  that  he  must  leave  you  here. 

J.   MICHELET 

Preface  to  UHistoire  de  France  (1869) 

(Trans.) 

497 


AMERICAN 

Land  of  coal  and  iron !  Land  of  gold  !  land  of  cotton, 

sugar,  rice ! 
Land  of  wheat,  beef,  pork !  land  of  wool  and  hemp  ! 

land  of  the  apple  and  the  grape  ! 
Land  of  the  pastoral  plains,  the  grass-fields  of  the  world  ! 

land  of  those  sweet-air'd  interminable  plateaus  ! 
Land  of  the  herd,  the  garden,  the  healthy  house  of 

adobe !  .  .  . 

Land  of  the  eastern  Chesapeake  !  land  of  the  Delaware  ! 
Land  of  Ontario,  Erie,  Huron,  Michigan  ! 
Land  of  the  Old  Thirteen  !  Massachusetts  land  !  Land  of 

Vermont  and  Connecticut ! 

Land  of  the  ocean  shores  !  land  of  sierras  and  peaks  ! 
Land  of  boatmen  and  sailors  !  fishermen's  land  !  .  .  . 
Far  breath'd  land  !  Arctic  braced  !  Mexican  breez'd  !  the 

diverse  !  the  compact ! 

The  Pennsylvanian  !  the  Virginian  !  the  double  Carolin- 
ian ! 
O  all  and  each  well-loved  by  me  !  my  intrepid  nations  !  O 

I  at  any  rate  include  you  all  with  perfect  love  !  .  .  . 
Here  for  you  !  and  here  for  America  ! 
Still  the  present  I  raise  aloft,  still  the  future  of  the  States 

I  harbinge  glad  and  sublime, 
And  for  the  past  I  pronounce  what  the  air  holds  of  the 

red  aborigines.  WALT  WHITMAN 

Starting  from  Paumanok  (1860) 

And  I  will  report  of  all  heroism  from  an  American  point 
of  view.  jud. 

498 


JEWISH 


I  was  glad  when  they  said  unto  me  :  We  wil  go  into  the 

house  of  the  Lord. 

Our  feet  shal  stand  in  thy  gates  :  O  Hierusalem. 
Hierusalem  is  builded  as  a  citie  :  that  is  a  unitie  in  it  selfe, 
For  thither  the  tribes  goe  up,  even  the  tribes  of  the  Lord  ; 

to  testifie  unto  Israel,  to  give  thankes  unto  the  Name  of 

the  Lord. 
For  there  is  the  seate  of  judgement ;  even  the  seate  of  the 

house  of  David. 
O  pray  for  the  peace  of  Hierusalem  :  they  shall  prosper 

that  love  thee. 
Peace  be  within  thy  walles  :  and  plenteousnesse  within 

thy  palaces. 
For  my  brethren  and  companions  sakes  :  I  will  wish  thee 

prosperitie. 
Yea,  because  of  the  house  of  the  Lord  our  God  :  I  will 

seek  to  doe  thee  good. 

Psalm  122 
Trans.  Miles  Coverdale  (1611  edition) 


By  the  waters  of  Babylon  we  sate  downe  and  wept :  when 

wee  remembred  thee  O  Sion. 
As  for  our  harpes,  we  hanged  them  up  :  upon  the  trees 

that  are  there  in. 
For  they  that  led  us  away  captive  required  of  us  then  a 

song  and  melodic,  in  our  heavinesse  :  sing  us  one  of 

the  songs  of  Sion. 

How  shal  we  sing  the  Lords  song  :  in  a  strange  land. 

499 


If  I  forget  thee,  O  Hierusalem  :  let  my  right  hand  forget 

her  cunning. 
If  I  do  not  remember  thee,  let  my  tongue  cleave  to  the 

roofe  of  my  mouth  :  yea,  if  I  preferre  not  Hierusalem 

in  my  mirth. 

Ibid.  Psalm  137 


GERMAN 


Deutschland,  Deutschland,  iiber  alles, 
Uber  alles  in  der  Welt. 

H.  v.  FALLERSLEBEN,  Das  Lied  der  Deutschen 


Deutsche  Worte  hor  ich  wieder — 
Sei  begriisst  mit  Herz  und  Hand  ! 
Land  der  Freude,  Land  der  Lieder, 
Schones  heitres  Vaterland  ! 

Ibid.  Heimkehr 


ITALIAN 

Bella  Italia,  amate  sponde. 
Pur  vi  torno  a  riveder  ! 
Trema  in  petto,  e  si  confonde 
L'alma  oppressa  dal  piacer, 
Tua  bellezza,  che  di  pianti 
Fonte  amara  ognor  ti  fu, 
Di  stranieri  e  crudi  amanti 
T'avea  posta  in  servitu. 
500 


Ma  bugiarda  e  mal  sicura 
La  speranza  fia  de'  re ; 
II  giardino  di  natura 
No,  pel  barbari  non  e. 

VINCENZO  MONTI,  Marengo  (1802) 


PORTUGUESE 

Gentlemen,  remember  that  you  are  Portuguese. 

Address  to  troops  before  battle  by  a  Portuguese 
General  during  Peninsular  War 


PET  ANIMALS 


OSTRICHES 

I  beleeve  you  must  be  carefull  of  your  Ostridge  this 
returne  of  cold  wether,  least  it  perish  by  being  bredd  in 
so  hot  a  countrey  and  perhaps  not  seen  snowe  before  or 
very  seldome,  so  that  I  beleeve  it  must  bee  kept  under 
covert  and  have  strawe  to  sitt  upon  and  water  sett  by  it  to 
take  of  both  day  and  night ;  must  have  it  observed  how  it 
sleepeth  and  whether  not  with  the  head  under  the  wing, 
especially  in  cold  wether  :  whether  it  bee  a  wachfull  and 
quick  hearing  bird  like  a  goose,  for  it  seemes  to  bee  like 
a  goose  in  many  circumstances.  It  seemes  to  eat  anything 

501 


that  a  goose  will  feed  on,  and  like  a  goose  to  love  the  same 
green  hearbes  and  to  delight  in  Lettuce,  endive,  sorrell, 
&c.  ...  To  geese  they  give  oates  &c  moystnd  with  beere, 
butt  sometimes  they  are  inebriated  with  it.  If  you  give 
any  Iron,  it  may  be  wrapped  up  in  dowe  or  past :  perhaps 
it  will  not  take  it  up  alone.  You  may  trie  whether  it  will 
eat  a  worme  or  a  very  small  eele ;  whether  it  will  drinck 
milk,  and  observe  in  what  manner  it  drincks  water.  . . .  You 
may  lay  a  bay  leafe  by  the  oestridge  and  observe  whether  it 
will  take  it  up.  ...  When  it  is  Anatomized,  I  suppose  the 
sceleton  will  bee  made  and  you  may  stuffe  the  skinne  with 
the  fethers  on.  ...  If  it  delights  not  in  salt  things  you 
may  trie  it  with  an  olive. 

SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE 

Letter  to  his  son  Edward  (1681) 


LAMPREYS 

Caius  Hirtius  was  the  man  by  himselfe,  that  before  all 
others  devised  a  pond  to  keep  Lampreys  in.  ...  In  pro- 
cesse  of  time  folk  grew  to  have  a  love  and  cast  a  fancy  to 
some  one  several!  fish  above  the  rest.  For  the  excellent 
Orator  Hortensius  had  an  house  at  Bauli,  upon  the  side 
that  lieth  to  Baiae,  and  a  fish-pond  to  it  belonging  :  and 
he  took  such  an  affection  to  one  Lamprey  in  that  poole, 
that  when  it  was  dead  (by  report)  he  could  not  hold  but 
weep  for  love  of  it.  Within  the  same  poole  belonging  to 
the  said  house,  Antonia  the  wife  of  Drusus  (unto  whom 
they  fell  by  inheritance)  had  so  great  a  liking  to  another 
Lamprey,  that  she  could  find  in  heart  to  decke  it,  and  to 
hang  a  paire  of  golden  earings  about  the  guils  thereof. 

502 


And  surely  for  the  novelty  of  this  strange  sight,  and  the 
name  that  went  thereof,  many  folke  had  a  desire  to  see 
Bauli,  and  for  nothing  else. 

PLINY  THE  ELDER,  Natural  History  (c.  77) 
Trans.  Philemon  Holland  (1601) 


SPARROWS 

Sparrow,  the  darling  of  my  girl,  with  whom  she  plays, 
whom  she  holds  in  her  lap,  or  gives  you  her  finger  to 

peck,  and  incites  you  to  bite  sharply 

My  girl's  sparrow  is  dead,  my  girl's  pet,  whom  she 
loved  more  than  her  own  eyes  :  for  he  was  as  sweet  as 
honey,  and  knew  her  as  well  as  a  girl  knows  her  own 
mother.  Nor  would  he  move  from  her  lap,  but  hopping 
about  now  here  now  there,  chirped  continuously  to  his 
mistress  only.  Now  he  goes  along  the  dark  road  to  the 
place  whence,  they  say,  none  returns. 

CATULLUS,  Carmina  (c.  60  B.C.) 


And  prytily  he  wolde  pant 
When  he  saw  an  ant. 
Lord,  how  he  wolde  prye 
After  a  buterflye  ! 
Lord,  how  he  wolde  hoppe 
After  the  grassoppe ! 
And  when  I  said  Phip,  Phip  ! 
Than  he  wolde  lepe  and  skyppe, 
And  take  me  by  the  lyppe.     JOHN  SKELTON 
The  Boke  of  Philipp  Sparrowe  (c.  1500) 
503 


And  so  home  and  to  dinner  with  my  father  and  sister  and 
family,  mighty  pleasant  all  of  us ;  and,  among  other  things, 
with  a  sparrow  that  our  Mercer  hath  brought  up  now  for 
three  weeks,  which  is  so  tame  that  it  flies  up  and  down, 
and  upon  the  table,  and  eats  and  pecks,  and  do  every  thing 
so  pleasantly,  that  we  are  mightily  pleased  with  it. 

SAMUEL  PEPYS 

Diary  (May  31,  1666) 


DRAGONS 

There  was  a  little  Dragon-whelp  bred  in  Arcadia,  and 
brought  up  familiarly  with  a  little  boy  from  his  infancy, 
until  the  Boy  became  a  young  Man,  and  the  Dragon  also 
became  of  great  stature,  so  that  one  of  them  loved  another 
so  well  as  Man  and  beast  could  love  together,  or  rather 
two  play-fellows  from  the  Cradle.  At  last  the  friends  of  the 
Boy  seeing  the  Dragon  grow  so  great  in  so  short  a  space, 
began  to  be  suspicious  of  him  ;  whereupon  they  took  the 
bed  wherein  the  Boy  and  the  Dragon  were  lodged,  and 
carryed  the  same  into  a  far  remote  place  of  Woods  and  Wil- 
dernesse,  and  there  set  down  the  bed  with  the  Boy  and  the 
Dragon  together.  The  boy  after  a  little  while  returned,  and 
came  home  again  to  his  friends  ;  the  Dragon  wandered  up 
and  down  in  the  Woods,  feeding  upon  herbs  and  poyson, 
according  to  his  nature,  and  never  more  cared  for  the 
habitation  of  men,  but  rested  content  with  a  solitary  life. 
In  the  length  of  time  it  came  to  passe  that  the  boy  grew 
to  be  a  perfect  man,  and  the  Dragon  also  remained  in  the 
Wood,  and  although  absent  one  from  the  other,  yet  mutu- 
ally loving  as  well  as  ever.  It  hapned  that  this  young  man 

504 


travelled  through  that  place  where  the  Dragon  was 
lodged,  and  fell  among  theeves,  when  the  young  man  saw 
their  swords  about  his  ears,  he  cryed  out,  and  the  Dragons 
den  being  not  far  off,,  his  cry  came  to  the  Dragons  ears, 
who  instantly  knowing  the  voice  of  his  play-fellow, 
answered  the  same  with  another,  at  whose  hissing  the 
theeves  grew  afraid,  and  began  to  run  away,  but  their  legs 
could  not  carry  them  so  fast  as  to  escape  the  Dragons  teeth 
and  claws  ;  for  he  came  speedily  to  release  his  friend,  and 
all  the  theeves  that  he  could  find,  he  put  to  cruel  death, 
then  did  he  accompany  his  friend  out  of  the  place  of  peril, 
and  returned  back  again  to  his  den,  neither  remembering 
wrath,  that  he  was  exposed  to  the  Wildernesse,  and  there 
left  by  his  play-fellow  nor  yet  like  perverse  men,  forsaking 
their  old  friends  in  danger. 

PLINY   THE  ELDER 

Natural  History  (c.  77) 
Trans.  Philemon  Holland  (1601) 


HORSES 


Caligula  .  .  .  loved  Prasinus  the  Cochman  so  wel,  that  for 
good  wil  to  the  master,  he  bid  his  horse  to  supper,  gave 
him  wine  to  drink  in  cups  of  estate,  set  barly  graines  of 
golde  before  him  to  eate,  and  swore  by  no  bugs,  that  hee 
would  make  him  a  Consul :  which  thing  (saith  Dion)  had 
bin  performed,  had  hee  not  bin  prevented  by  suddain 
death. 

STEPHEN   GOSSON 

The  Schoole  of  Abuse  (1579) 
505 


DOGS 

Among  those  domesticall  creatures  that  converse  with  us, 
there  be  many  things  worth  the  knowledge  :  and  namely, 
as  touching  dogges  .  .  .  and  also  horses.  I  have  heard  it 
credibly  reported  of  a  dogge,  that  in  defence  of  his  master 
fought  hard  against  theeves  .  .  .  and  albeit  he  were  sore 
wounded  even  to  death,  yet  would  he  not  abandon  the 
dead  body  of  his  master,  but  drave  away  both  wild  foule 
and  savage  beast,  from  seizing  of  his  carkasse.  Also  of  an- 
other in  Epirus,  who  in  a  great  assembly  of  people  know- 
ing the  man  that  had  murdered  his  Mr.  flew  upon  him 
with  open  mouth,  barking  and  snapping  at  him  so  furious- 
ly...  until  he  at  length  confessed  the  fact. . . .  Duris  makes 
mention  of  another  dogge,  which  he  named  Hircanus, 
that  so  soone  as  the  funerall  fire  of  king  Lysimachus  his 
master  was  set  a-burning,  leapt  into  the  flame.  ...  A 
dog  that  Nicomedes  king  of  Numidia  kept  flew  upon  the 
queene  Consingis  his  wife,  and  al  to  mangled  and  worried 
her,  for  toying  and  dallying  overwantonly  with  the  king 
her  husband.  .  .  .  They  be  the  only  beasts  of  all  others 
that  know  their  masters,  and  let  a  stranger  unknown  be 
come  never  so  suddenly,  they  are  ware  of  his  coming  and 
give  warning.  They  alone  know  their  own  names,  and  all 
those  of  the  house  by  their  speech.  Be  the  way  never  so 
long,  and  the  place  from  whene  they  came  never  so  far, 
they  remember  it,  and  can  go  thither  againe. . .  .As  furious 
and  raging  as  they  be  otherwhiles,  yet  appeased  they  wil 
be  and  quieted,  by  a  man  sitting  downe  upon  the  ground. 
.  .  .  The  longer  we  live,  the  more  things  we  observe  and 
marke  still  in  these  dogges.  .  .  . 

PLINY  THE  ELDER,  Natural  History  (c.  77) 
Trans.  Philemon  Holland  (1601) 
506 


Of  the  Delicate,  Neate,  and  Pretty  Kind  of  Dogges 
called  the  Spaniel  Gentle,  or  the  Comforter,  in 
Latine  Melitoeus  or  Fotor 

These  dogges  are  title,  pretty,  proper  and  fyne,  and  sought 
for  to  satisfie  the  delicatenesse  of  daintie  dames,  and  wan- 
ton womens  wills,  instrumentes  of  folly  for  them  to  play 
and  dally  withall,  to  tryfle  away  the  treasure  of  time,  to 
withdraw  their  mindes  from  more  commendable  exercises, 
and  to  content  their  corrupted  concupiscencees  with  vaine 
disport  (a  selly  shift  to  shunne  yrcksome  ydlenesse) .  These 
puppies  the  smaller  they  bee,  the  more  pleasure  they  pro- 
voke, as  more  meete  play  fellowes  for  minsing  mistresses 
to  beare  in  their  bosoms,  to  keepe  company  withal  in  their 
chambers,  to  succour  with  sleepe  in  bed,  and  nowrishe  with 
meate  at  bourde,  to  lay  in  their  lappes,  and  licke  their 
lippes  as  they  ryde  in  their  waggons.  .  .  .  That  plausible 
proverbe  verifie  upon  a  Tyraunt,  namely  that  he  loved 
his  sowe  better  then  his  sonne,  may  well  be  applyed  to 
these  kinde  of  people  who  delight  more  in  dogges  that  are 
deprived  of  all  possibility  of  reason,  then  they  doe  in 
children  that  be  capable  of  wisedome  and  judgement. 

JOHN  CAius,  Treatise  of  English  Dogges  (1570) 
Trans,  from  Latin  by  Abraham  Fleming  (1576) 


Of  the  Mastive  or  Bandogge  .  .  .  called 

in  Latine  Cam's  Lunarius,  in  Englishe 

the  Mooner 

Because  he  doth  nothing  else  but  watch  and  warde  .  .  . 
wasting  the  wearisome  night  season  without  slombering 
or  sleeping,  bawing  and  yawing  at  the  Moone  ...  a 
qualitie  in  mine  opinion  strange  to  consider. 

507 


.  .  .  They  meet  their  Master  with  reverence  and  joy, 
crouching  or  bending  a  little,  (like  shamefast  and  modest 
persons)  and  although  they  know  none  but  their  Masters 
and  familiars,  yet  will  they  help  any  man  against  another 
Wilde  beast 

There  was  a  Dog  in  Venice  which  had  been  three  years 
from  his  Master,  yet  knew  him  again  in  the  Market  place  ; 
discerning  him  from  thousands  of  people  present.  He 
remembreth  any  man  which  giveth  him  meat ;  when  he 
fauneth  upon  a  man  he  wringeth  his  skin  in  the  forehead. 
.  .  .  JElianus  thinketh  that  Dogs  have  reason.  .  .  .  There 
was  a  Dog  in  Africa  in  a  ship,  which  in  the  absence  of  the 
Mariners  came  to  a  pitcher  of  oil  to  eat  some  of  it,  and  the 
mouth  of  the  pot  being  too  narrow  for  his  head  to  enter  in 
(because  the  pot  was  not  full)  he  devised  to  cast  flint  stones 
into  the  vessel,  whereby  the  Oil  rose  to  the  top  of  the  Pitcher, 
and  so  he  eat  therof  his  fill,  giving  evident  testimony 
thereby,  that  he  discerned  by  nature,  that  heavy  things  will 
sink  down  and  light  things  will  rise  up  and  flie  aloft. . . . 

When  a  Dragon  was  setting  upon  Orpheus,  as  he  was 
occupied  in  hawking,  by  his  Dogs  his  life  was  saved, 
and  the  Dragon  devoured.  .  .  . 

There  was  never  anything  more  strange  in  the  nature  of 
Dogs,  to  then  that  which  happened  at  Rhodes  besieged 
by  the  Turks,  for  the  Dogs  did  there  discern  between 
Christians  and  Turks ;  for  towards  the  Turks  they  were  most 
eager,  furious  and  unappeasable,  but  towards  Christians, 
although  unknown,  most  easie,  peaceable,  and  placidious. 

Of  the  Mimicky  or  Getulian-Dog,  and  the 
little  Melitaean-Dogs  of  Gentlewomen 

There  is  also  in  England  two  other  sorts  of  Dogs, .  .  . 
being  apt  to  imitate  all  things  it  seeeth,  for  which  cause 

508 


some  have  thought  that  it  was  conceived  by  an  Ape  ;  for 
in  wit  and  disposition  it  resembleth  an  Ape,  but  in  face 
sharpe  and  blacke  like  a  Hedge-hog,  having  a  short  recurved 
body,  very  long  legs,  shaggie  hair,  and  a  short  tail ;  .  .  . 
these  being  brought  up  with  Apes  in  their  youth  learn 
very  admirable  and  strange  feats,  whereof  there  were  great 
plenty  in  Egypt  in  the  time  of  King  Ptolemy ,  which  were 
taught  to  leap  and  play,  and  dance,  at  the  hearing  of 
musick,  and  in  many  poor  mens  houses  they  served  in 
stead  of  servants  for  divers  uses. 

These  are  also  used  by  Players  and  Puppet-Mimicks  to 
work  strange  tricks,  for  the  sight  whereof  they  get  much 
money  :  such  an  one  was  the  Mimicks  dog,  of  which 
Plutarch  writeth  that  he  saw  in  a  publick  spectacle  at 
Rome  before  the  Emperor  Vespasian.  The  Dog  was  taught 
to  act  a  play,  wherein  were  contained  many  persons  parts 
...  at  last  there  was  given  him  a  piece  of  bread,  wherein, 
as  wass  said,  was  poison,  having  virtue  to  procure  a  dead 
sleep,  which  he  received  and  swallowed:  and  presently  after 
the  eating  thereof  he  began  to  reel  and  stagger  to  and  fro 
like  a  drunken  man,  and  fell  down  to  the  ground  as  if  he 
had  been  dead,  and  so  lay  a  good  space  not  stirring  foor  nor 
limb,  .  .  .  but  when  he  percived  by  the  time  and  other 
signes  that  it  was  requisite  to  arise,  he  first  opened  his 
eyes,  and  lift  up  his  head  a  little,  then  stretched  forth  him- 
self like  as  one  doth  when  he  riseth  from  sleep ;  at  the 
last,  up  he  getteth  and  turneth  to  him  to  whom  that  part 
belonged,  not  without  the  joy  and  good  content  of  Caesar 
and  all  other  the  beholders.  .  .  . 

There  is  a  Town  in  Pachynus,  a  Promontory  of  Sicily 
(called  Melita)  from  whence  are  transported  many  fine 
little  dogs  they  were  accounted  the  Jewels  of  Women,  but 
now  the  said  Town  is  possessed  by  Fisher-men,  and  there 

509 


is  no  such  reckoning  made  of  those  tender  little  Dogs, 
for  these  are  not  bigger  than  common  Ferrets,  or  Weasils, 
yet  are  they  not  small  in  understanding,  nor  mutable  in 
their  love  to  men  :  for  which  cause  they  are  also  nourished 
tenderly  for  pleasure.  .  .  . 

Now  a  dayes  they  have  found  another  breed  of  little 
Dogs  in  all  Nations.  .  .  .  They  are  not  above  a  foot,  or 
half  a  foot  long,  and  alway  the  lesser,  the  more  delicate 
and  precious. . . .  They  are  of  pleasant  disposition  and  will 
leap  and  bite  without  pinching,  and  bark  prettily,  and 
some  of  them  are  taught  to  stand  upright  holding  up  their 
fore  legs  like  hands ;  other  to  fetch  and  carry  in  their 
mouths,  that  which  is  cast  unto  them.  .  .  . 

Publius  had  a  little  dog  (called  Issa)  having  about  the 
neck  two  silver  bels,  upon  a  silken  Collar,  which  for  the 
neatness  thereof,  seems  to  be  rather  a  picture  than  a 
creature  ;  whereof  Martial  made  an  elegant  epigram. 

EDWARD   TOPSELL 

History  of  Four-Footed  Beasts  and  Serpents  (1607) 


Beloved  little  Bitch 

Issa  is  more  wicked  than  Catullus's  sparrow,  Issa  is 
cleaner  than  a  dove's  kiss,  Issa  is  more  caressing  than 
any  girl,  Issa  is  more  precious  than  Indian  gems,  Issa  is 
Publius's  beloved  little  bitch.  You  think  she  is  speaking  if 
she  whines  ;  she  feels  joy  and  grief.  She  lies  resting  on  his 
neck,  and  sleeps  so  that  her  breathing  is  not  heard  ;  and 
when  impelled  by  the  requirements  of  her  inside,  she  never 
by  one  drop  betrays  the  coverlet,  but  with  coaxing  paw  she 
rouses  and  warns  you  to  put  her  down  from  the  bed,  and 
asks  to  be  taken  up  again.  Such  is  the  modesty  of  this 

510 


chaste  little  dog  that  she  knows  nothing  of  love,  nor  can 
we  find  a  husband  worthy  of  so  tender  a  maid.  In  order 
that  death  may  not  take  her  from  his  sight  altogether, 
Publius  has  expressed  her  in  a  picture,  in  which  you  will 
see  so  similar  an  Issa  that  not  even  she  herself  is  so  like 
herself. 

MARTIAL,  Epigrams  (c.  84) 

A  little  Cur-Dog 

This  William  (the  founder  of  this  family)  had  a  little  cur- 
dog  which  loved  him,  and  the  earl  loved  the  dog.  When 
the  earle  dyed  the  dog  would  not  goe  from  his  master's 
dead  body,  but  pined  away,  and  dyed  under  the  hearse  ; 
the  picture  of  which  dog  is  under  his  picture,  in  the 
Gallery  at  Wilton.  Which  putts  me  in  mind  of  a  parallell 
storie  in  Appian  (Syrian  Warr)  : — Lysimachus  being 
slaine,  a  dog  that  loved  him  stayed  a  long  time  by  the 
body  and  defended  it  from  birds  and  beasts  till  such  time 
as  Thorax,  king  of  Pharsalia,  finding  it  out  gave  it  buriall. 

JOHN   AUBREY 

Brief  Lives :  William  Herbert^  ist  Earl  of  Pembroke 


CATS 

He  is  a  full  lecherous  beast  in  youth,  swift,  pliant,  and 
merrie,  and  leapeth  and  reseth  on  althing  that  is  to 
fore  him  :  and  is  led  by  a  straw,  and  playeth  therewith  : 
and  is  a  right  heavie  beast  in  age  and  full  sleepy,  and  lieth 
slily  in  wait  for  mice  :  and  is  ware  they  be,  more  by  smell 
than  by  sight,  and  hunteth  and  reseth  on  them  in  privy 


places  :  and  when  he  taketh  a  mouse,  he  plaieth  there- 
with, and  eateth  him  after  the  play And  they  maketh 

a  ruthful  noise  and  gastful,  when  one  proffereth  to  fight 
with  another.  *> 

BARTHOLOMEW  ANGLicus,  De  Proprietatibus  Rerum 
Trans.  John  Trevisa  (13983  modernized  1582) 


Turkic  Gentlewomen,  that  are  perpetuall  prisoners,  still 
mewed  up  according  to  the  custome  of  the  place,  have 
little  else  beside  their  household  businesse,  or  to  play  with 
their  children,  to  drive  away  time,  but  to  dally  with  their 
cats,  which  they  have  in  delictis,  as  many  of  our  Ladies 
and  Gentlewomen  use  Monkies  and  little  Doggs. 

ROBERT  BURTON 

The  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  (1621.  Edition  1632) 


GEESE 

Their  watch  and  warde  is  good  and  gainfull,  being  indeed 
better  than  that  of  the  dogge,  as  hath  beene  shewed  long 
agoe  by  the  geese  of  the  Capitoll  in  Rome,  who  awaking 
the  souldiers  and  standing  watch,  were  the  cause  that  the 
enimie  was  repulsed  and  driven  backe :  againe,  she 
declareth  when  winter  draweth  nigh  by  her  continuall 
squeaking  and  crying,  she  layeth  egges,  hatcheth  goslings, 
affoordeth  feathers  twise  a  yeere  for  the  bed,  for  writing, 
and  for  shaftes,  which  are  gathered  at  the  spring  and 

Autumne. 

CHARLES  ESTIENNE,  La  Maison  Rustique  (1572) 
Trans.  Richard  Surflet  (1600) 
512 


BEES 

The  householder  shall  make  choice  for  the  keeping  of  his 
bees  of  some  fit  and  secret  place  in  his  Garden  of  Pleasure, 
in  the  bottome  of  some  valley  if  it  be  possible,  to  the  end 
they  may  the  more  easily  rise  on  high  to  fly  abroad  to  get 
their  food,  as  also  for  that  when  they  be  laden,  they 
descend  the  more  easily  downward  with  their  load.  But 
let  us  see  to  it  especially  that  the  place  be  open  to  the 
South  sun,  and  yet  notwithstanding,  neither  exceeding 
in  heat  nor  in  cold,  but  temperate  ;  and  that  the  same  by 
hill,  wall,  or  some  other  rampart  be  defended  from  windes 
and  tempests,  and  so  also  as  that  they  may  flie  their 
sundrie  and  severall  waies  for  to  get  diversitie  of  pastures, 
and  so  againe  may  returne  to  their  little  cottages  laden 
with  their  composition  of  hony ;  and  againe  in  such  a 
place,  as  wherein  there  is  great  quantitie  of  thyme,  organic, 
ivie,  winter  savorie,  wild  thyme,  rosemary,  sage,  corne- 
flag  or  gladdon,  gilleflowres,  violets,  white  lilies,  roses, 
flowre-gentill,  basil,  saffron,  beanes,  poppie,  melilot, 
milfoile  and  other  sweet  herbs. 

Ibid. 


HARES 

Puss  grew  presently  familiar,  would  leap  into  my  lap, 
raise  himself  upon  his  hinder  feet,  and  bite  the  hair  from 
my  temples.  ...  He  was  ill  three  days,  during  which  time 
I  nursed  him  .  . .  and  by  constant  care  and  trying  him  with 
a  variety  of  herbs,  restored  him  to  perfect  health.  No 
creature  could  be  more  grateful  than  my  patient  after 
Rp  513 


his  recovery ;  a  sentiment  which  he  most  significantly 
expressed,  by  licking  my  hand.  ...  It  was  visible,  from 
many  symptoms  which  I  have  not  room  to  enumerate, 
that  he  was  happier  in  human  society  than  when  shut 
up  with  his  natural  companions.  . .  .  You  will  not  wonder. 
Sir,  that  my  intimate  acquaintance  with  these  specimens 
of  their  kind  has  taught  me  to  hold  the  sportsman's 
amusement  in  abhorrence  :  he  little  knows  what  amiable 
creatures  he  persecutes,  of  what  gratitude  they  are  capable, 
how  cheerful  they  are  in  their  spirits,  what  enjoyment 
they  have  of  life,  and  that,  impressed  as  they  seem  with  a 
peculiar  dread  of  man,  it  is  only  because  man  gives  them 
peculiar  cause  for  it.  WILLIAM  COWPER 

Letter  to  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  (June  1784) 


BYRONIC  Zoo 

Lord  B.'s  establishment  consists,  besides  servants,  of 
ten  horses,  eight  enormous  dogs,  five  cats,  an  eagle,  a 
crow,  and  a  falcon ;  and  all  these,  except  the  horses,  walk 
about  the  house,  which  every  now  and  then  resounds  with 
their  unarbitrated  quarrels,  as  if  they  were  the  masters 
of  it.  .  .  . 

After  I  have  sealed  my  letter,  I  find  that  my  enumera- 
tion of  the  animals  in  this  Circaean  palace  was  defective, 
and  that  in  a  material  point.  I  have  just  met  on  the  grand 
stair-case  five  peacocks,  two  guinea-hens,  and  an  Egyptian 
crane.  I  wonder  who  all  these  animals  were,  before  they 
were  changed  into  these  shapes. 

PERCY  BYSSHE  SHELLEY 

Letter  to  Thomas  Love  Peacock  (Ravenna,  1821) 
514 


MERMAIDS 

Neither  can  I  but  admire  what  I  find  recorded  in  the 
historic  of  the  Netherlands,  of  a  Sea-woman  who  was 
taken  up  in  the  streights  of  a  broken  dike  near  to  the 
towns  of  Campen  and  Edam,  brought  thither  by  a  sea- 
tempest  and  high  tide,  where  floating  up  and  down  and 
not  finding  a  passage  out  again  (by  reason  that  the  breach 
was  stopped  after  the  floud)  was  espied  by  certain  women 
and  their  servants  as  they  went  to  milk  their  kine  in  the 
neighbouring  pastures,  who  at  the  first  were  afraid  of  her, 
but  seeing  her  often  they  resolved  to  take  her,  which  they 
did ;  and  bringing  her  home,  she  suffered  her  self  to  be 
clothed,  fed  with  bread,  milk,  and  other  meats,  and  would 
often  strive  to  steal  again  into  the  sea,  but  being  carefully 
watched  she  could  not :  moreover  she  learned  to  spinne, 
and  perform  other  pettie  offices  of  women,  but  at  the  first 
they  cleaned  her  of  the  sea-mosse  which  did  stick  about 
her.  She  was  brought  from  Edam  and  kept  at  Harlam, 
where  she  would  obey  her  mistris,  and  (as  she  was  taught) 
kneel  down  with  her  before  the  crucifix,  never  spake,  but 
lived  dumbe  and  continued  alive  (as  some  say)  fifteen 
years ;  then  she  died.  This  is  credibly  reported  by  the 
Authour  of  that  history,  by  the  writer  of  the  Chronicles 
of  Holland,  and  in  a  book  called  the  Theatre  of  cities. 
They  took  her  in  the  yeare  of  our  Lord  1403. 

JOHN  SWAN 
Speculum  Mundi  (1635) 


515 


PLAY-GOING 


REASONS  FOR  GOING  TO  THE  PLAY 

The  Play-House  is  an  inchanted  Island,  where  nothing 
appears  in  reality  what  is,  nor  what  should  be.  'Tis 
frequented  by  persons  of  all  degrees  and  equalities  whatso- 
ever, that  have  a  great  deal  of  idle  time  lying  upon  their 
hands  and  can't  tell  how  to  employ  it  worse.  Here  Lords 
come  to  laugh,  and  to  be  laughed  at  for  being  there,  and 
seeing  their  qualities  ridicul'd  by  every  triobolary  poet. 
Knights  come  hither  to  learn  the  amorous  Smirk,  the 
alamode  Grin,  the  antick  Bow,  the  new-fashioned 
Cringe,  and  how  to  adjust  their  Phiz.  .  .  .  Hither  come  the 
Country- Gentlemen  to  shew  their  shapes,  and  trouble  the 
Pit  with  their  Impertinence  about  Hawking,  Hunting, 
their  handsome  Wives,  and  their  Housewifery.  .  .  .  Here 
the  Ladies  come  to  shew  their  Cloathes. 

TOM  BROWN 

Amusements  Serious  and  Comicall  (1700) 


SUCH  A  SET  OF  BEINGS! 

"  Bear  me,  some  God,  O  quickly  bear  me  hence, 
To  wholesome  solitude,  the  nurse  of " 


"  Sense,"  I  was  going  to  add  in  the  words  of  Pope,  till  I 
recollected  that  pence  had  a  more  appropriate  meaning, 
and  was  as  good  a  rhyme.  This  apostrophe  broke  from  me 
on  coming  from  the  opera,  the  first  I  ever  did.,  the  last  I 
trust  I  ever  shall  go  to.  For  what  purpose  has  the  Lord  of 
the  universe  made  His  creature  man  with  a  comprehen- 
sive mind  ?  Why  make  him  a  little  lower  than  the  angels  ? 
Why  give  him  the  faculty  of  thinking,  the  power  of  wit  and 
memory;  and,  to  crown  all,  an  immortal  and  never-dying 
spirit  ?  Why  all  this  wondrous  waste,  this  prodigality  of 
bounty,  if  the  mere  animal  senses  of  sight  and  hearing  (by 
which  he  is  not  distinguished  from  the  brutes  that  perish) 
would  have  answered  the  end  as  well ;  and  yet  I  find  the 
same  people  are  seen  at  the  opera  every  night — an  amuse- 
ment written  in  a  language  the  greater  part  of  them  do  not 
understand,  and  performed  by  such  a  set  of  beings  !  .  .  . 
Going  to  the  Opera,  like  getting  drunk,  is  a  sin  that  carries 
its  own  punishment  with  it,  and  that  a  very  severe  one. 

HANNAH  MORE 

Letter  to  her  Sister  (1775) 


MORTIFYING  THE  POETS 

MELLEFONT  :  But  does  your  Lordship  never  see  Comedies  ? 
LORD  FROTH  :  O  yes,  sometimes — But  I  never  laugh. 
MEL.:  No? 

LORD  F. :  Oh  no, — Never  laugh  indeed,  Sir. 
CARELESS  :  No  !  why  what  d'ye  go  there  for  ? 
LORD  F. :  To  distinguish  myself  from  the  Commonalty, 

517 


and  mortitie  the  Poets ;  the  Fellows  grow  so  conceited, 
when  any  of  their  foolish  Wit  prevails  upon  the  Side- 
Boxes. — I  swear — he,  he,  he,  I  have  often  constrained  my 
inclination  to  laugh — he,  he,  he,  to  avoid  giving  them 
encouragement. 

WILLIAM  CONGREVE 

The  Double-Dealer  (1694) 


FAIR  WENCHES 


From  the  first  age  the  Theater  hath  bin, 
Even  like  a  trap  to  take  faire  wenches  in. 
Frequent  the  Tilt-yard,  for  there  oft-times  are 
Clusters  of  people  thronging  at  the  barre. 
Thou  shalt  not  need  there  with  thy  fingers  beckon, 
Of  winking  signes,  or  close  nods  doe  not  reckon : 
But  where  thy  Mistris  sits  doe  thou  abide, 
Who  shall  forbid  thee  to  attaine  her  side, 
As  neare  as  the  place  suffers  see  thou  get, 
That  none  betwixt  thee  and  her  selfe  beset : 
If  thou  beest  mute  and  bashfull,  I  will  teach 
How  to  begin,  and  breake  the  ice  of  speech. 
Aske  whose  that  horse  was,  what  he  was  did  guide 

him, 

Whence  comes  he,  if  he  well  or  ill  did  ride  him. 
Which  in  the  course  of  barriers  best  did  do, 
And  whom  she  likes,  him  doe  thou  favour  to. 

OVID 

Art  of  Love  (2  B.C.) 
Trans.  Thomas  Hey  wood  (1600  ?) 
518 


GOINGS-ON  AMONG  THE  AUDIENCE 

In  our  assemblies  at  playes  in  London,  you  shall  see  suche 
heaving  and  shooving,  suche  ytching  and  shouldring,  to 
sitte  by  women;  Suche  care  for  their  garments,  that  they 
bee  not  trode  on ;  Such  eyes  to  their  lappes,  that  no  chippes 
light  in  them :  Such  pillowes  to  their  backes,  that  they  take 
no  hurte  :  Such  masking  in  their  eares,  I  knowe  not  what : 
Such  giving  them  Pippins  to  passe  the  time  :  Suche 
playing  at  foote  Saunt  without  Gardes  :  Such  ticking, 
such  toying,  such  smiling,  such  winking,  and  such  man- 
ning them  home,  when  the  sportes  are  ended,  that  it  is  a 
right  Comedie,  to  marke  their  behaviour,  to  watche  their 
conceites. 

STEPHEN   GOSSON 

The  Schoole  of  Abuse  (1579) 


PRISON 


A  HOME  FROM  HOME 

The  doctor  then  proposed  that  I  should  be  removed  into 
the  prison  infirmary ;  and  this  proposal  was  granted.  .  .  . 
The  infirmary  was  divided  into  four  wards,  with  as  many 
small  rooms  attached  to  them  .  .  .  and  one  of  these,  not 
very  providently  (for  I  had  not  yet  learned  to  think  of 
money)  I  turned  into  a  noble  room.  I  papered  the  walls 

519 


with  a  trellis  of  roses ;  I  had  the  ceiling  coloured  with 
clouds  and  sky ;  the  barred  windows  I  screened  with 
Venetian  blinds ;  and  when  my  bookcases  were  set  up 
with  their  busts,  and  flowers  and  a  pianoforte  made  their 
appearance,  perhaps  there  was  not  a  handsomer  room  on 
that  side  the  water.  .  .  .  Charles  Lamb  declared  there 
was  no  other  such  room,  except  in  a  fairy  tale. 

But  I  possessed  another  surprise  ;  which  was  a  garden. 
There  was  a  little  yard  outside  the  room,  railed  off  from 
another  belonging  to  the  neighbouring  ward.  This  yard 
I  shut  in  with  green  palings,  adorned  it  with  a  trellis, 
bordered  it  with  a  thick  bed  of  earth  from  a  nursery,  and 
even  contrived  to  have  a  grass-plot.  The  earth  I  filled 
with  flowers  and  young  trees.  There  was  an  apple-tree, 
from  which  we  managed  to  get  a  pudding  the  second 
year.  As  to  my  flowers,  they  were  allowed  to  be  perfect. 
Thomas  Moore,  who  came  to  see  me  with  Lord  Byron, 
told  me  he  had  seen  no  such  heart's-ease.  I  bought  the 
Parnaso  Italiano  while  in  prison,  and  used  often  to  think  of 
a  passage  in  it  while  looking  at  this  miniature  piece  of 
horticulture :  Here  I  wrote  and  read  in  fine  weather,  some- 
times under  an  awning.  In  autumn,  my  trellises  were 
hung  with  scarlet-runners,  which  added  to  the  flowery 
investment.  I  used  to  shut  my  eyes  in  my  arm-chair,  and 
affect  to  think  myself  hundreds  of  miles  off.  ... 

I  entered  prison  the  3rd  of  February  1813,  and  removed 
to  my  new  apartments  the  i6th  of  March,  happy  to  get 
out  of  the  noise  of  the  chains.  When  I  sat  amidst  my 
books,  and  saw  the  imaginary  sky  overhead,  and  my  paper 
roses  about  me,  I  drank  in  the  quiet  at  my  ears  as  if  they 
were  thirsty.  .  .  . 

These  rooms,  and  the  visits  of  my  friends,  were  the  bright 
side  of  my  captivity.  .  .  .  My  friends  were  allowed  to  be 

520 


with  me  till  ten  o'clock  at  night Even  William  Hazlitt, 

who  there  first  did  me  the  honour  of  a  visit,  would  stand 
interchanging  amenities  at  the  threshold.  .  .  .  The  Lambs 
came  to  comfort  me  in  all  weathers,  hail  or  sunshine,  in 
daylight  and  in  darkness,  even  in  the  dreadful  frost  and 
snow  of  the  beginning  of  1814. 

LEIGH   HUNT 

Autobiography  (1850) 


WRITING  HISTORY 

Sir  Walter  was  left  to  his  Majesties  mercy,  who  thought 
him  too  great  a  Malecontent  to  have  his  Freedom,  and 
probably  too  innocent  to  lose  his  Life.  Therefore  to  the 
Tower  he  is  confin'd,  but  permitted  to  enjoy  Libera 
Custodia ;  where  he  improv'd  his  Imprisonment  to  the 
greatest  advantage  of  Learning  and  Inquisitive  Men.  Since 
his  Majesty  had  civilly  buried  him,  and  as  it  were  banish'd 
him  this  World,  he  thought  it  no  Treason  to  disturb 
the  Ashes  of  former  times,  and  bring  to  view  the  Actions 
of  deceased  Heroes.  .  .  .  After  some  time  past  there,  he 
was  delivered  of  that  great  Minerva,  the  History  of  the 
World ;  a  Book  which  for  the  exactness  of  its  Chronology, 
Curiousness  of  its  Contexture  and  Learning  of  all  sorts, 
seems  to  be  the  Work  of  an  Age.  An  History  which  never 
yet  met  with  a  Detractor,  and  was  the  Envy,  if  some 
Authors  may  be  credited,  of  King  James  himself,  who 
thought  none  could  out-do  him  at  the  Pen. 

LIFE  OF  SIR   WALTER  RALEIGH 

(Prefaced  to  1687  edition  of  the  History  of 

the  World) 
521 


A  SHOWER  OF  GOLD 

When  Acrisius  inquired  of  the  oracle  how  he  should  get 
male  children,  the  god  said  that  his  daughter  would  give 
birth  to  a  son  who  would  kill  him.  Fearing  that,  Acrisius 
built  a  brazen  chamber  under  ground,  and  there  imprisoned 
Danae.  However,  she  was  seduced,  some  say  by  Proteus 
.  .  .  but  some  say  that  Zeus  had  intercourse  with  her  in 
the  shape  of  a  stream  of  gold  which  poured  through  the 
roof.  When  Acrisius  afterwards  learned  that  she  had  got  a 
child  Perseus,  he  would  not  believe  that  she  had  been 
seduced  by  Zeus. 

APOLLODORUS 

The  Library  (c.  ist  Century  A.D.) 


LITERARY  INDUSTRY 

In  prison  Boethius  composed  his  work  on  the  Consolations 
of  Philosophy ;  and  Grotius  wrote  his  Commentary  on 
Saint  Matthew,  with  other  works.  .  .  . 

Buchanan,  in  the  dungeons  of  a  monastery  in  Portugal, 
composed  his  excellent  Paraphrases  of  the  Psalms  of 
David. 

Cervantes  composed  the  most  agreeable  book  in  the 
Spanish  language  during  his  captivity  in  Barbary.  .  .  . 

Louis  the  Twelfth,  when  Duke  of  Orleans,  was  long 
imprisoned  in  the  Tower  of  Bourges  :  applying  himself 
to  his  studies,  which  he  had  hitherto  neglected,  he 
became,  in  consequence,  an  enlightened  monarch. 

Margaret,  queen  of  Henry  the  Fourth,  King  of  France, 
522 


confined  in  the  Louvre,  pursued  very  warmly  the  studies 
of  elegant  literature,  and  composed  a  very  skilful  apology 
for  the  irregularities  of  her  conduct.  .  .  . 

The  plan  of  the  Henriade  was  sketched,  and  the  greater 
part  composed,  by  Voltaire  during  his  imprisonment  in 
the  Bastile ;  and  the  Pilgrim's  Progress  of  Bunyan  was 
performed  in  the  circuit  of  a  prison's  walls. 

Howell,  the  author  of  Familiar  Letters,  wrote  the  chief 
part  of  them,  and  almost  all  his  other  works,  during  his 
long  confinement  in  the  Fleet  prison.  .  .  . 

Lydiat,  while  confined  in  the  King's  Bench  for  debt, 
wrote  his  Annotations  on  the  Parian  Chronicle,  which 
were  first  published  by  Prideaux.  .  .  . 

The  learned  Selden,  committed  to  prison  for  his 
attacks  on  the  divine  right  of  tithes  and  the  king's  prerog- 
ative, prepared  during  his  confinement  his  History  of 
Eadmer>  enriched  by  his  notes. 

Freret,  when  imprisoned  in  the  Bastile,  was  permitted 
only  to  have  Bayle  for  his  companion.  His  dictionary  was 
always  before  him,  and  his  principles  were  got  by  heart. 
To  this  circumstance  we  owe  his  works,  animated  by  all 
the  powers  of  scepticism. 

Sir  Willian  Davenant  finished  his  poem  of  Gondibert 
during  his  confinement  by  the  rebels  in  Carisbrook 
Castle.  .  .  . 

De  Foe,  confined  in  Newgate  for  a  political  pamphlet, 
began  his  "  Review,"  a  periodical  paper.  .  .  . 

Wicquefort's  curious  work  "  On  Ambassadors "  is 
dated  from  his  prison,  where  he  had  been  confined  for 
state  affairs.  He  softened  the  rigour  of  those  heavy  hours 
by  several  historical  works. 

ISAAC  DISRAELI 
Curiosities  of  Literature  (1791-1823) 

523 


BIRD  OF  THE  MUSES 

I  now  write  to  you  from  my  Confinement  in  Newgate, 
where  I  have  been  since  Monday  last  was  sennight,  and 
where  I  enjoy  myself  with  much  more  Tranquillity  than 
I  have  known  for  upwards  of  a  Twelvemonth  past ; 
having  a  Room  intirely  to  myself,  pursuing  the  Amuse- 
ments of  my  Poetical  Studies,  uninterrupted,  and  agreeably 
to  my  mind.  I  thank  the  Almighty,  I  am  now  all  collected 
in  myself ;  and  though  my  Person  is  in  Confinement,  my 
Mind  can  expatiate  on  ample  and  useful  Subjects  with  all 
the  freedom  imaginable.  I  am  now  more  conversant  with 
the  Nine  than  ever ;  and  if  instead  of  a  Newgate  Bird,  I 
may  be  allow'd  to  be  a  Bird  of  the  Muses,  I  assure  you, 
Sir,  I  sing  very  freely  in  my  Cage  ;  somtimes  indeed  in  the 
Plaintive  notes  of  the  Nightinghale  ;  but  at  others  in  the 
cheerfull  strains  of  the  Lark. 

RICHARD   SAVAGE 

Letter  to  a  Friend  (1743) 


NAIL-CARVING 

The  publisher  of  a  Leyden  Gazette,  who  had  printed  a 
satire  on  Louis  XIV,  was  secretly  seized  in  Holland, 
brought  away  from  thence,  and  shut  up  in  a  cage  at  St. 
Michael.  .  .  .  This  cage  was  ...  of  strong  bars  of  wood. 
.  .  .  On  some  of  the  bars  were  figures  and  landscapes, 
which  are  said  to  have  been  cut  by  this  unhappy  man 
with  his  nails. 

SHOLTO  AND  REUBEN  PERCY 
Anecdotes  (1826) 
524 


THE  STUDIOUS  GROTIUS 

Grotius  having  taken  part  in  the  political  disputes  which 
agitated  his  native  country  in  the  early  part  of  the  iyth 
century,  was  condemned  to  imprisonment  for  life  in  the 
Castle  of  Louvestein.  The  malice  of  his  persecutors  was, 
however,  fortunately  disappointed  by  the  ingenuity  of 
his  wife.  Having  obtained  permission  to  remove  some 
books  from  the  prison,  she  sent  a  large  chest  for  the 
purpose ;  but  instead  of  books,  she  deposited  a  more 
valuable  treasure,  the  illustrious  Grotius  himself;  and 
...  he  was  thus  enabled  to  make  his  escape. 

Nothing  more  strongly  marks  the  genius  and  fortitude  of 
Grotius  than  the  manner  in  which  he  employed  his  time 
during  his  imprisonment.  ...  He  resumed  his  law 
studies,  which  other  employments  had  interrupted.  He 
gave  a  portion  of  his  time  to  moral  philosophy,  which 
induced  him  to  translate  the  ancient  poets  collected  by 
Stoboeus,  and  the  fragments  of  Menander  and  Philemon. 
Every  Sunday  was  devoted  to  reading  the  Scriptures,  and 
to  writing  his  Commentaries  on  the  New  Testament.  .  .  . 
He  composed  his  treatise  in  Dutch  verse  on  the  Truth  of 
the  Christian  Religion.  Sacred  and  profane  authors  oc- 
cupied him  alternately.  „  . , 


LIBERTY  AND  LOVE 

You  can't  imagine,  my  friend,  the  charm  of  a  prison, 
where  one  has  only  to  account  to  one's  own  heart  for  the 
employment  of  one's  time.  No  tiresome  distractions,  no 

525 


troublesome  sacrifices,  no  petty  cares,  none  of  those  duties 
.  .  .  none  of  those  conflicts  of  law  and  social  prejudice 
with  the  dearest  inspirations  of  one's  nature.  No  jealous 
eye  spies  on  the  expression  of  what  one  feels,  or  on  the 
occupation  one  has  chosen ;  no-one  suffers  from  one's 
melancholy  or  from  one's  inactivity ;  no-one  expects 
effort  from  one,  or  exacts  sentiments  which  are  not  at 
one's  command.  Given  up  to  oneself,  to  truth,  without 
obstacles  to  conquer  or  battles  to  sustain,  one  can,  with- 
out wounding  the  rights  or  the  affections  of  any  one  at 
all,  abandon  one's  soul  to  its  own  integrity,  find  again 
one's  moral  independence  on  the  breast  of  a  seeming 
captivity,  and  exercise  it  with  a  fullness  from  which  social 
encounters  almost  always  detract.  I  was  not  even  allowed 
to  seek  that  independence,  and  to  relieve  myself  thus  of 
the  charge  of  the  happiness  of  another  .  .  .  events  have 
procured  for  me  that  which  I  could  not  have  obtained 
without  a  sort  of  crime.  How  I  cherish  the  irons  in  which 
I  am  free  to  love  you  with  undivided  mind,  and  to  occupy 
myself  with  you  all  the  time !  Here,  all  other  obligation  is 
superseded  ;  I  owe  myself  only  to  him  who  loves  me,  and 
deserves  so  well  to  be  loved.  Follow  your  career  generous- 
ly, serve  your  country,  save  liberty ;  all  your  actions  are 
a  joy  to  me,  and  your  career  is  my  triumph.  ...  I  thank 
heaven  for  having  substituted  my  present  chains  for 
those  which  I  wore  before.  ...  If  I  am  to  gain  no  more, 
let  me  keep  this  situation  until  my  complete  deliverance 
from  a  world  given  over  to  injustice  and  misfortune.  .  .  . 
I  have  better  air  here  than  at  the  Abbaye,  and  I  can  go, 
when  I  choose,  into  the  pleasant  appartment  of  the  Con- 
cierge. ...  I  usually  stay  in  my  cell.  It  is  large  enough  to 
contain  a  chair  beside  the  bed.  At  a  little  table  I  read, 
draw  and  write,  your  portrait  on  my  breast  or  under  my 

526 


eyes.  I  thank  heaven  for  having  known  you,  for  having 
let  me  taste  the  inexpressible  happiness  of  loving,  and  of 
being  loved  with  that  generosity,  that  delicacy,  which 
vulgar  souls  will  never  know,  and  which  are  above  all  their 
pleasures.  .  .  . 

Goodbye,  man  the  most  loved  by  the  most  loving 
woman  !  MADAME  ROLAND 

Letter  to  Francois  Buzot 
(Prison  of  Sainte-Pelagie,  1793) 


TACITUS 

In  prison,  as  elsewhere,  Madame  Roland  beguiled  her 
leisure  with  books  and  flowers.  Tacitus  was  then  her 
favourite  author,  and  her  consciousness  of  her  own  talents 
made  her  conceive  the  idea  of  writing  the  annals  of  France, 
but  this  plan  did  not  materialise.  j  REVENEL 

Introduction  to  Memoir es  de  Mme  Roland  (1840) 


A  FORGER  PETTED 

Mr  Ryland,  the  artist,  who  was  executed  in  1789  for 
forgery,  so  conciliated  the  friendship  of  the  governor  of 
Tothill  Fields  Bridewell,  where  he  was  confined,  that  he 
not  only  had  the  liberty  of  the  whole  house  and  garden, 
but  when  the  other  prisoners  were  locked  up  of  an 
evening  the  governor  used  to  take  him  out  with  him,  and 
range  the  fields  to  a  considerable  distance. 

SHOLTO  AND   REUBEN  PERCY 

Anecdotes  (1826) 
527 


CONVERSATION  BY  WHISTLING 

The  Marquis  de  la  Fayette  and  several  French  officers  .  . . 
were  long  confined  in  the  castle  of  Olmutz.  .  .  .  Their 
apartments  were  so  constructed  that  they  were  within 
hearing  of  each  other  when  standing  at  the  windows  of 
their  respective  chambers.  .  .  .  There  is  at  Paris  a  number 
of  tunes  called  the  airs  of  the  Pont  de  Neuf,  or  those 
popular  ballads  that  were  sung  at  the  corners  of  the  streets. 
To  strike  up  a  few  of  the  notes  was  to  recall  to  memory 
the  words  that  accompanied  them.  The  captives  of  Olmutz 
gradually  composed  for  themselves  a  vocal  vocabulary,  by 
whistling  these  notes  at  their  windows  ;  and  this  vocabu- 
lary, after  a  short  time,  became  so  complete,  and  even  rich, 
that  two  or  three  notes  from  each  air  formed  their  alphabet 
and  effected  their  intercourse.  By  this  means  they  com- 
municated news  to  each  other  concerning  their  families, 
the  progress  of  the  war  etc  ;  and  when,  by  good  fortune, 
one  of  them  had  procured  a  gazette,  he  whistled  the  con- 
tents of  it  to  his  partners  in  suffering. 


KITES,  CROWS,  AND  CONDUITS 

He  was  a  close  prisoner  in  the  Tower,  tempore  regis 
Jacobi,  for  speaking  too  boldly  in  the  Parliament  House  of 
the  king's  profuse  liberality  to  the  Scots.  He  made  a  com- 
parison of  a  conduit,  whereinto  water  came,  and  ran-out 
afarre-off.  "  Now,"  said  he,  "  this  pipe  reaches  as  far  as 
Edinborough."  He  was  kept  a  close  prisoner  there,  i.e., 
his  windowes  were  boarded  up.  Through  a  small  chinke 
he  sawe  once  a  crowe,  and  another  time,  a  kite ;  the  sight 

528 


whereof,  he  sayd,  was  a  great  pleasure  to  him.  He,  with 
much  adoe,  obtained  at  length  the  favour  to  have  his  little 
son  Bennet  to  be  with  him  ;  and  he  then  made  this  distich, 
viz : — 

Parvule,  dum  puer  es,  nee  scis  incommoda  linguae, 
Vincula  da  linguae,  vel  tibi  vincla  dabit. 

JOHN   AUBREY 

Brief  Lives  :  John  Hoskyns  (c.  1680) 


FREEDOM  OF  SOUL  AND  OF  LOVE 

When  love  with  unconfined  wings 
Hovers  within  my  gates  ; 
And  my  divine  Althea  brings 
To  whisper  at  the  grates  ; 
When  I  lye  tangled  in  her  haire, 
And  fettered  to  her  eye, 
The  birds,  that  wanton  in  the  aire, 
Know  no  such  liberty. 

When  flowing  cups  run  swiftly  round 
With  no  allaying  Thames^ 
Our  carelesse  heads  with  roses  bound, 
Our  hearts  with  loyal  flames  ; 
When  thirsty  grief  in  wine  we  steepe, 
When  healths  and  draughts  go  free, 
Fishes,  that  tipple  in  the  deepe, 
Know  no  such  libertie. 

When  (like  committed  linnets)  I 
With  shriller  throat  shall  sing 
The  sweetnes,  mercy,  majesty, 
And  glories  of  my  King. 
529 


When  I  shall  voyce  aloud,  how  good 
He  is,  how  great  should  be, 
Inlarged  winds,  that  curie  the  flood, 
Know  no  such  liberty. 

Stone  walls  doe  not  a  prison  make, 

Nor  iron  bars  a  cage  ; 

Mindes  innocent  and  quiet  take 

That  for  an  hermitage  ; 

If  I  have  freedome  in  my  love, 

And  in  my  soule  am  free, 

Angels  alone  that  sore  above 

Enjoy  such  liberty. 

RICHARD   LOVELACE 

To  Althea.  From  Prison  (1642) 


ROCKS,  SEAS,  AND  GARDENS 

Shut  up  Close-Prisner  in  Mount-Orgueil  Pile., 

A  lofty  Castle,  within  Jersie  Isle, 

Remote  from  Friends,  neere  three  years  space, 

where  I 

Had  Rockes,  Seas,  Gardens,  dayly  in  mine  Eye, 
Which  I  oft  viewed  with  no  small  delight. 
These  pleasing  Objects  did  at  last  invite 
Me  to  contemplate  in  more  solemnewise 
What  usefull  Meditations  might  arise 
From  each  of  them,  my  soule  to  warme,  feast, 

cheere, 

And  unto  God,  Christ,  Heaven,  mount  more  neare. 
In  which  pursuite,  I  found  such  inward  Joyes, 
Such  Cordiall  Comforts,  as  did  over-poise 
530 


My  heaviest  Crosses,  Losses,  and  supply 
The  want  of  all  Foes  did  me  then  deny ; 
Give  me  assurance  of  a  sweete  Returne 
Both  from  my  Exile,  Prison,  and  mine  Urne  : 
Revive  my  cold  dead  Muse,  and  it  inspire 
Though  not  with  brightest,  yet  with  Sacred  fire. 

WILLIAM  PRYNNE 

Mount-Orgueil,  or  Divine  and  Profitable  Meditations, 
Raised  from  the  Contemplation  of  these  three  Leaves  of 
Natures  Volume,  Rockes,  Seas,  Gardens 


A  FRIEND'S  VISIT 

This  Lord  Middleton  had  a  great  Friendship  with  the 
Laird  Bocconi,  and  they  had  made  an  Agreement,  that  the 
first  of  them  that  Died  should  appear  to  the  other  in 
Extremity.  The  Lord  Middleton  was  taken  Prisoner  at 
Worcester  Fight,  and  was  Prisoner  in  the  Towre  of  London, 
under  Three  Locks.  Lying  in  his  Bed  pensive,  Bocconi 
appear'd  to  him ;  my  Lord  Middleton  asked  him  if  he 
were  dead  or  alive  ?  he  said,  Dead,  and  that  he  was  a 
Ghost ',  and  told  him,  that  within  Three  Days  he  should 
escape,  and  he  did  soe,  in  his  Wife's  Cloaths.  When  he 
had  done  his  Message,  he  gave  a  Frisk,  and  said, 

Givenni,  Givanni,  'tis  very  strange, 

In  the  World  to  see  so  sudden  a  Change. 

And  then  gathered  up  and  vanished. 

JOHN  AUBREY 
Apparitions  (Miscellanies)  (1696) 

531 


GOOD  QUAKERS  AND  A  KIND  JAILOR 

When  we  were  come  to  Bridewell,  we  were  not  put  up  into 
the  great  Room  in  which  we  had  been  before  :  but  into  a 
low  Room,  in  another  fair  Court,  which  had  a  Pump  in  the 
Middle  of  it.  And  here,  we  were  not  shut  up  as  before  : 
but  had  the  Liberty  of  the  Court,  to  walk  in  ;  and  of  the 
Pump,  to  wash  or  drink  at.  And,  indeed,  we  might  easily 
have  gone  quite  away,  if  we  would ;  there  was  a  Passage 
through  the  Court  into  the  Street :  but  we  were  true  and 
steady  prisoners,  and  looked  upon  this  Liberty  arising  from 
their  Confidence  in  us,  to  be  a  kind  of  par  oil  upon  us  ;  so 
that  both  Conscience  and  Honour  stood  now  engaged  for 
our  true  imprisonment.  .  .  . 

And  this  Priviledge  we  enjoyed,  by  the  Indulgence  of 
our  Keeper,  whose  Heart  God  disposed  to  Favour  us  :  so 
that  both  the  Master  and  his  Porter  were  very  civil,  and 
kind  to  us,  and  had  been  so  indeed  all  along.  For  when  we 
were  shut  up  before,  the  Porter  would  readily  let  some  of 
us  go  home  in  an  Evening,  and  stay  at  Home  till  next 
Morning,  which  was  a  great  Conveniency.  . .  . 

Under  this  easie  Restraint,  we  lay  till  the  Court  sate  at 
the  Old-Baily  again.  THOMAS  ELLWOOD 

History  of  his  Life  (1714) 


CONTEMPLATION  AND  STUDY 

Art  in  prison  ?  Make  right  use  of  it.  . . .  Where  may  a  man 
contemplate  better  than  in  solitarinesse  or  study  more 
than  in  quietnesse  ?  .  .  .  Severinus  Boethius  never  writ  so 
elegantly  as  in  prison,  Paul  so  devoutly,  for  most  of  his 

532 


Epistles  were  dictated  in  his  bands ;  It  brings  many  a 
lewd  riotous  fellow  home,  many  wandering  rogues  it 
settles,  that  would  otherwise  have  been  like  raving  Tygers, 
ruined  themselves  and  others.  ROBERT  BURTON 

The  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  (1621.  Edition  1632) 


A  CONCERT 

An  officer  was  confined  in  the  Bastile ;  he  begged  the 
governor  to  permit  him  the  use  of  his  lute.  .  .  .  After  a  few 
days,  this  modern  Orpheus  .  .  .  was  greatly  astonished  to 
see  frisking  out  of  their  holes  great  numbers  of  mice,  and 
descending  from  their  woven  habitations  crowds  of 
spiders,  who  formed  a  circle  about  him.  ...  He  was  petri- 
fied with  astonishment.  Having  ceased  to  play,  the  as- 
sembly .  .  .  immediately  broke  up.  As  he  had  a  great  dis- 
like to  spiders,  it  was  two  days  before  he  ventured  again 
to  touch  his  instrument.  At  length  ...  he  recommenced 
his  concert,  when  the  assembly  was  far  more  numerous 
than  at  first.  Having  thus  succeeded  in  attracting  this 
company,  he  ...  begged  the  keeper  to  give  him  a  cat, 
which  he  ...  let  loose  at  the  very  instant  when  the  little 
hairy  people  were  most  entranced.  ISAAC  DISRAELI 

Curiosities  of  Literature  (1792-1817) 


THE  BASTILE 

And  as  for  the  Bastile  !  flie  terror  is  in  the  word Make 

the  most  of  it  you  can,  said  I  to  myself,  the  Bastile  is  but 

533 


another  word  for  a  tower — and  a  tower  is  but  another  word 

for  a  house  you  can't  get  out  of .  .  .  but  with  nine 

lives  a  day,  and  pen  and  ink  and  paper  and  patience, 
albeit  a  man  can't  get  out,  he  may  do  very  well  within 
— at  least  for  a  month  or  six  weeks. 

LAURENCE  STERNE,  A  Sentimental  Journey  (1768) 


BETTER  THAN  A  SHIP 

He  said,  "  No  man  will  be  a  sailor  who  has  contrivance 
enough  to  get  himself  into  a  jail.  ...  A  man  in  a  jail  has 
more  room,  better  food,  and  commonly  better  company." 

JAMES  BOSWELL,  Life  of  Johns  on  (1791) 


RAIN 


THE  BENEFIT  OF  IRRIGATION 

In  April,  and  the  springtime,  his  lorship  [Bacon]  would, 
when  it  rayned,  take  his  coach  (open)  to  receive  the  benefit 
of  irrigation,  which  he  was  wont  to  say  was  very  wholsome 
because  of  the  nitre  in  the  aire  and  the  universall  spirit  of 
the  world. 

JOHN  AUBREY,  Brief  Lives  :  Francis  Bacon  (c.  1680) 
534 


RAMBLING 


A  DELECTABLE  RECREATION 

But  the  most  pleasant  of  all  outward  pastimes  is  ...  to 
make  a  pretty  progresse,  a  merry  journy  now  and  then 
with  some  good  companions,  to  visit  friends,  see  citties, 
Castles,  Townes,  .  .  . 

To  see  the  pleasant  fields,  the  christall  fountaines, 
And  take  the  gentle  air  among  the  mountaines  : 

To  walke  amongst  Orchards,  Gardens,  Bowres,  Mounts, 
and  Arbors,  artificiall  wildrenesses,  greene  thickets,  Arches, 
Groves,  Lawnes,  Rivulets,  Fountaines,  and  such  like 
pleasant  places  .  .  .  Brooks,  Pooles,  Fishponds,  betwixt 
wood  and  water,  in  a  faire  meadow,  by  a  river-side  ...  to 
disport  in  some  pleasant  plaine  parke,  run  up  a  steepe 
hill  sometimes,  or  sit  in  a  shady  seat,  must  needs  be  a 
delectable  recreation.  .  .  .  S.  Bernard,  in  the  description 
of  his  Monastery,  is  almost  ravished  with  the  pleasure  of 
it.  A  sicke  man  (saith  he)  sits  upon  a  greene  banke,  and  when 
the  dog-starre  parcheth  the  Plaines,  and  dries  up  rivers,  he 
lies  in  a  shadie  bowre,  .  .  .  and  feeds  his  eyes  with  variety  of 
objects,  hearbs,  trees  ;  to  comfort  his  misery,  hee  receaves 
many  delightsome  smells,  and  fills  his  ears  with  that  sweet 
and  various  harmony  of  Birds  :  Good  God  (saith  he)  what 
a  company  of  pleasures  hast  thou  made  for  man  ! 

ROBERT  BURTON 

The  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  (1621.  Edition  1632) 
535 


READING 


MODERATION 

Bookes  are  delightful! ;  but  if  by  continuall  frequenting 
them,  we  in  the  end  lose  both  health  and  cheerfulnesse 
(our  best  parts)  let  us  leave  them.  I  am  one  of  those  who 
thinke  their  fruit  can  no  way  counter vaile  this  losse. 

MICHEL   DE   MONTAIGNE,  Essays  (1580) 

Trans.  John  Florio  (1603) 


READING  BY  BIRD-LIGHT 

There  is  a  kind  of  Bird  in  America,  that  yields  such  a 
light,  you  may  read  by  it  in  the  darkest  night. 

B.  DE  FONTENELLE,  A  Plurality  of  Worlds 
Trans.  John  Glanvill  (1688) 


READING  THE  BIBLE 

A  Spanish  author  says,  that  if  a  person  should  come  to 
his  bishop  to  ask  for  leave  to  read  the  Bible  .  .  .  the  bishop 
should  answer  him  from  Matthew,  ch.  xx.  v.  20,  "  You 

536 


know  not  what  you  ask."  And  indeed,  he  observes  the 
nature  of  this  demand  indicates  an  heretical  disposition. 

The  reading  of  the  Bible  was  prohibited  by  Henry  VIII, 
except  by  those  who  occupied  high  offices  in  the  state  ; 
a  noble  lady  or  gentlewoman  might  read  it  in  "  their 
garden  or  orchard  "  or  other  retired  places  ;  but  men 
and  women  in  the  lower  ranks  were  positively  forbidden 
to  read  it,  or  to  have  it  read  to  them,  under  the  penalty 
of  a  month's  imprisonment.  ISAAC  DISRAELI 

Curiosities  of  Literature  (1791-1823) 


READING  PLATO  AND  POETRY 

....  the  smooth  Elegiack  Poets  .  .  .  whom  both  for  the 
pleasing  sound  of  their  numerous  writing,  which  in  imita- 
tion I  found  most  easie,  and  most  agreeable  to  natures  part 
in  me  and  for  their  matter  ...  I  was  so  allur'd  to  read, 
that  no  recreation  came  to  me  better  welcome.  ...  If  I 
found  those  authors  anywhere  speaking  unworthy  things 
of  themselves,  or  unchaste  of  those  names  which  before 
they  had  extolled,  this  effect  it  wrought  with  me,  from 
that  time  forward  their  art  I  still  applauded,  but  the  men 
I  deplor'd  ;  .  .  .  Next  (for  heare  me  out  now  Readers) 
that  I  may  tell  ye  whether  my  younger  feet  wander'd  ;  I 
betook  me  among  those  lofty  Fables  and  Romances,  which 
recount  in  solemn  canto's  the  deeds  of  Knighthood.  .  .  . 
So  that  even  those  books  which  to  many  others  have  bin 
the  fuell  of  wantonnesse  and  loose  living,  I  cannot  thinke 
how  unlesse  by  divine  indulgence,  prov'd  to  me  so  many 
incitements  as  you  have  heard,  to  the  love  and  stedfast 
observation  of  that  vertue  which  abhorres  the  society  of 

537 


bordello's.  Thus  from  the  Laureat  fraternity  of  Poets,  riper 
yeares  and  the  ceaselesse  round  of  study  and  reading  led 
me  to  the  shady  spaces  of  philosophy,  but  chiefly  to  the 
divine  volumes  of  Plato,  and  his  equall  Xenephon.  Where  if 
I  should  tell  ye  what  I  learnt  of  chastity  and  love,  I  meane 
that  which  is  truly  so,  whose  charming  cup  is  only  vertue, 
which  she  bears  in  her  hand  to  those  who  are  worthy.  . . . 

JOHN  MILTON 

An  Apology  against  a  Pamphlet  calFd  A  Modest  Con- 
futation of  the  Animadversions  upon  the  Remonstrant 
against  Smectymnuus  (1642) 


READING  ROMANCES 

Parthenissa  is  now  my  company,  my  Brother  sent  it 
downe,  and  I  have  almost  read  it.  Tis  handsome  language. 
You  would  know  it  to  be  writt  by  a  person  of  good  quality 
though  you  were  not  tolde  it,  but  on  the  whole  I  am  not 
very  much  taken  with  it,  the  Story's  have  too  neer  a 
resemblance  with  those  of  other  Romances,  there's 
nothing  of  new  or  surprenant  in  them,  the  Ladys  are  all 
soe  kinde  they  make  no  sport,  and  I  meet  only  with  one 
that  tooke  mee  by  doing  a  handsome  thing.  .  .  .  She  was 
in  a  beseiged  Towre,  and  perswaded  all  those  of  her  sexe 
to  go  out  with  her  to  the  Enemy  (which  were  a  barbarous 
People)  and  dye  by  theire  swordes,  that  the  provisions  of 
the  Towne  might  last  the  longer  for  such  as  were  able  to 
doe  service  in  defending  it.  But  how  angry  was  I  to  see 
him  spoile  this  againe,  by  bringing  out  a  letter  this  woman 
left  behinde  her  for  the  Governour  of  the  Towne,  where 
she  discovers  a  passion  for  him  and  makes  that  the  reason 
why  she  did  it.  I  confesse  I  have  no  patience  with  our 

538 


faiseurs  de  Roman,  when  they  make  women  court.  It  will 
never  enter  my  head  that  tis  possible  any  woman  can  Love 
where  she  is  not  first  Loved,  and  much  lesse  that  if  they 
should  doe  that,  they  could  have  the  face  to  owne  it.  ... 
Another  fault  I  finde  too  is  the  stile,  tis  affected. . . .  But 
perhaps  I  like  it  the  worse  for  having  a  peece  of  Cyrus 
by  mee,  that  I  am  hugely  pleased  with,  and  that  I  would 
faine  have  you  read,  i'le  send  it  you.  .  .  . 

DOROTHY   OSBORNE 

Letter  to  Sir  William  Temple  (1654) 


READING  NOVELS 

JULIA  has  buried  her  Husband,  and  married  her  Daugh- 
ters, since  that  she  spends  her  time  in  reading.  She  is 
always  reading  foolish  and  unedifying  Books  :  She  tells  you 
every  time  she  sees  you,  that  she  is  almost  at  the  End  of 
the  silliest  Book,  that  ever  she  read  in  her  life  ;  that  the 
best  of  it  is,  it  is  very  long,  and  serves  to  dispose  of  a  good 
deal  of  her  time.  She  tells  you  that  all  Romances  are  sad 
Stuff,  yet  is  very  impatient  till  she  can  get  all  that  she 
can  hear  of.  Histories  of  Intreague  and  Scandal  are  the 
Books  that  Julia  thinks  are  always  too  short.  If  Julia  was 
to  drink  Drams  in  private,  and  had  no  Enjoyment  of  her 
self  without  them,  she  would  not  tell  you  this,  because 
she  knows  it  would  be  plainly  telling  you  that  she  was 
a  poor  disordered  Sot.  Sec  here  therefore  the  Weakness  of 
Julia ;  she  would  not  be  thought  to  be  a  Reprobate,  yet 
she  lets  you  know  that  she  lives  upon  Folly,  and  Scandal, 
and  Impertinence,  in  her  Closet,  that  she  cannot  be  in 
private  without  them,  that  they  are  the  only  Support  of 

539 


her  dull  Hours,  and  yet  she  does  not  perceive,  that  this 
is  as  plainly  telling  you,  that  she  is  in  a  miserable,  dis- 
ordered, reprobate  State  of  Mind. 

WILLIAM  LAW,  Christian  Perfection  (1726) 


READING  RICHARDSON 

Oh  Richardson !  remarkable  genius !  thou  shalt  always 
form  my  reading.  If  compelled  by  bitter  necessity  .  .  . 
if  my  means  are  insufficient  to  educate  my  children,  I 
will  sell  my  books,  but  thou  shalt  remain  !  yes,  thou  shalt 
rest  in  the  same  class  with  Moses,  Homer,  Euripides,  and 
Sophocles,  to  be  read  turn  by  turn.  DENIS  DIDEROT 


READING  FIELDING 

I  never  saw  Johnson  really  angry  with  me  but  once.  I 
alluded  to  some  witty  passages  in  Tom  Jones,  he  replied, 
"  I  am  shocked  to  hear  you  quote  from  so  vicious  a  book. 
I  am  sorry  to  hear  you  have  read  it ;  a  confession  which 
no  modest  lady  should  ever  make.  I  scarcely  know  a 
more  corrupt  work  !  "  He  went  so  far  as  to  refuse  to 
Fielding  the  great  talents  which  are  ascribed  to  him,  and 
broke  out  into  a  noble  panegyric  on  his  competitor, 
Richardson ;  who,  he  said,  was  as  superior  to  him  in 
talents  as  in  virtue  ;  and  whom  he  pronounced  to  be  the 
greatest  genius  that  had  shed  its  lustre  on  this  path  of 

literature." 

HANNAH  MORE,  Memoirs  (1780) 

540 


READING  FIELDING  AND  RICHARDSON 

Fielding  being  mentioned,  Johnson  exclaimed,  "  he  was 
a  blockhead  "  ;  and  upon  my  expressing  my  astonishment 
at  so  strange  an  assertion,  he  said,  "  What  I  mean  by  his 
being  a  blockhead  is  that  he  was  a  barren  rascal."  BOS- 
WELL.  "  Will  you  not  allow,  Sir,  that  he  draws  a  very 
natural  picture  of  human  life  ? "  JOHNSON.  "  Why, 
Sir,  it  is  of  very  low  life.  Richardson  used  to  say,  that  had 
he  not  known  who  Fielding  was,  he  should  have  believed 
him  to  be  an  ostler.  Sir,  there  is  more  knowledge  of  the 
heart  in  one  letter  of  Richardson's,  than  in  all  Tom  Jones. 
.  .  .  ERSKINE.  "  Surely,  Sir,  Richardson  is  very  tedious." 
JOHNSON.  "  Why,  Sir,  if  you  were  to  read  Richardson 
for  the  story,  your  patience  would  be  so  much  fretted 
that  you  would  hang  yourself.  But  you  must  read  him  for 
the  sentiment,  and  consider  the  story  as  only  giving  occa- 
sion to  the  sentiment." 

JAMES  BOSWELL,  Life  of  Johns  on  (1792) 


READING  A  BAWDY  BOOK 

Jan.  13^,  1668.  Stopped  at  Martin's,  my  bookseller, 
where  I  saw  the  French  book  which  I  did  think  to  have 
had  for  my  wife  to  translate,  called  "  L'escholle  des  filles," 
but  when  I  come  to  look  in  it,  it  is  the  most  bawdy  lewd 
book  that  ever  I  saw,  ...  so  that  I  was  ashamed  of  reading 
it,  and  so  away  home. 

Feb.  8/A.  To  my  bookseller's,  and  there  staid  an  hour,  and 
bought  the  idle  rogueish  book,  "  L'escholle  des  filles  "  ; 

541 


which  I  have  bought  in  plain  binding,  avoiding  the  buying 
of  it  better  bound,  because  I  resolve,  as  soon  as  I  have  read 
it,  to  burn  it,  that  it  may  not  stand  in  the  list  of  books, 
nor  among  them,  to  disgrace  them  if  it  should  be  found. 

Feb.  gth  (Lord's  Day).  I  to  my  chamber,  where  I  did  read 
through  "  L'escholle  des  filles,"  a  lewd  book,  but  what 
do  no  wrong  once  to  read  for  information  sake.  .  .  .  And 
after  I  had  done  it  I  burned  it,  that  it  might  not  be  among 
my  books  to  my  shame,  and  so  at  night  to  supper  and  to 

SAMUEL  PEPYS,  Diary 


READING  PETRARCH 

I  have  spent  a  stupid  day  in  reading  the  Abbe  de  Sade's 
Memoirs  of  Petrarch.  What  a  feeble  whipster  was  this 
Petrarch,  with  all  his  talents  !  To  go  dangling  about,  for 
the  space  of  twenty  years,  puffing  and  sighing  after  a  little 
coquette,  whose  charms  lay  chiefly  in  the  fervour  of  his 
own  imagination,  and  the  art  she  had  to  keep  him  wavering 
between  hope  and  despondency — at  once  ridiculous  and 
deplorable — that  he  might  write  Sonnets  in  her  praise  ! 
Did  you  ever  read  his  Rime  ?  I  find  it  quite  impossible  to 
admire  them  sufficiently  :  to  me  they  seem  a  very  worth- 
less employment  for  a  mind  like  Petrarch's — he  might 
have  built  a  palace,  and  he  has  made  some  dozen  snuff- 
boxes with  invisible  hinges — very  pretty  certainly — but 
very  small  and  altogether  useless.  But  the  Italians  call  him 
divine,  and  that  is  everything. 

THOMAS   CARLYLE 

Letter  to  Jane  Welsh  (1822) 
542 


READING  AND  WEEPING 

I  think  I  heard  you  say  you  did  not  think  very  highly  of 
Corinne.  You  must  read  it  again  :  nobody  with  a  heart  and 
soul  can  fail  to  admire  it.  I  never  read  a  book  in  my  life 
that  made  such  an  impression  on  me.  I  cried  two  whole 
hours  at  the  conclusion,  and  in  all  likelihood  I  might  have 
been  crying  to  this  minute,  but  for  an  engagement  to  a 
party  in  the  evening,  where  prudential  considerations 
required  that  my  eyes  should  be  visible. — Have  you  read 
Nigel  ?  I  think  wondrous  little  of  it.  I  am  exceedingly 
obliged  to  you  for  Sismondi.  I  have  only  read  the  first 
volume,  but  like  it  very  much.  .  .  . 

Are  you  not  pleased  with  Bracebridge  Hall?  He  is  a 
witty,  amiable  sort  of  person  Mr  Irving ;  but  Oh,  he 
wants  fire  ;  and  he  is  far  too  happy  for  me.  Dear  Byron, 
sinner  as  he  is,  there  is  nobody  like  him.  I  have  got  his 
likeness.  ...  I  can  scarcely  help  crying  when  I  look  at  it, 
and  think  I  may  chance  to  go  out  of  the  world  without 
seeing  its  original. 

JANE   WELSH 

Letters  to  Thomas  Carlyle  (1822) 


ILL-JUDGED  READING 

Metrodorus,  Valerius  Probus,  Aulus  Gellius,  Pedianus, 
Boethius,  and  a  hundred  others,  to  be  acquainted  with 
whom  might  show  much  reading  and  but  little  judgment. 

OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

Inquiry  into  the  Present  State  of  Polite  Learning  (1759) 
543 


FOOLISH  READING 

March  i$th,  1668.  And  so  home  to  read  a  little  more  in 
last  night's  book,  with  much  sport,  it  being  a  foolish  book. 

SAMUEL   PEPYS 

Diary 


MEWED  IN  A  LIBRARY 

Heinsius,  the  keeper  of  the  Library  at  Ley  den  in  Holland, 
was  mewed  up  in  it  all  the  yeare  long,  and  that  which  to  thy 
thinking  should  have  bred  a  loathing  caused  in  him  a 
greater  liking.  /  no  sooner  (saith  he)  come  into  the  Library, 
but  I  bolt  the  doore  to  me  excluding  lust,  ambition,  avarace, 
and  all  such  vices,  whose  nurse  is  idlenesse,  the  Mother  of 
ignorance,  and  Melancholy  her  selfe,  and  in  the  very  lap  of 
eternity,  amongst  so  many  divine  soules,  I  take  my  seat,  with 
so  lofty  a  spirit  and  sweet  content,  that  I  pitty  all  our  great 
ones,  and  rich  men  that  know  not  this  happinesse. 

ROBERT   BURTON 

The  Anatomy  of  Melancholy 
(1621.  Edition  1632) 


FRIENDS'  MANUSCRIPTS 

Mr  Johnson  did  not  like  that  his  friends  should  bring  their 
manuscripts  for  him  to  read,  and  he  liked  still  less  to  read 
them  when  they  were  brought.  .  .  .  "  Alas,  Madam  !  " 
(continued  he)  how  few  books  are  there  of  which  one  ever 
can  possibly  arrive  at  the  last  page !  Was  there  ever  yet 

544 


any  thing  written  by  mere  man  that  was  wished  longer  by 
its  readers,  excepting  Don  Quixote,  Robinson  Crusoe,  and 
the  Pilgrim's  Progress.  .  .  . 

HESTHER   PIOZZI 

Anecdotes  of  Dr.  Johnson  (1785) 


READING  BURNET 

Learning  is  sunk  so  very  low,  that  I  am  most  certainly 
inform'd  that  nothing  is  now  hardly  read  but  Burnett's 
romance  or  libel,  call'd  by  him  The  History  of  his  own 
Times.,  'Tis  read  by  men,  women,  and  children.  Indeed,  it 
is  the  common  table-book  for  ladies  as  well  as  gentlemen, 
especially  such  as  are  friends  to  the  revolution  scheme. 

THOMAS   HEARNE 

Diary  (March  19,  1734) 


READING  ONE'S  OWN  BOOKS 

I  have  lately  perused  all  my  own  Philosophicall  Writings 
which  the  more  seriously  I  have  consydered  by  so  much 
the  more  assured  I  am  of  the  truth  of  those  maine  con- 
clusions they  hold  out  to  the  world.  And  those  that  will 
be  ignorant,  if  they  find  so  great  felicity  in  it,  lett  them 
be  so. 

HENRY   MORE 

Letter  to  Lady  Conway  (1661) 


SP  545 


REPARTEE 


EMINENTLY  SUCCESSFUL 

Johnson  was  once  eminently  successful  in  this  form  of 
contest :  A  fellow  having  attacked  him  with  some  coarse 
raillery,  Johnson  answered  him  thus,  "  Sir,  your  wife, 
under  pretence  of  keeping  a  bawdy-house,  is  a  receiver 
of  stolen  goods." 

JAMES  BOSWELL,  Life  of  Johnson  (1791) 


RESPECT  FROM  LOWER 
ORDERS 


Dr  Johnson  sat  with  Mrs  Thrale,  Lady  Ladd,  and  me,  for 
an  hour  or  two.  The  subject  was  given  by  Lady  Ladd ; 
it  was  the  respect  due  from  the  lower  class  of  the  people. 

"  I  know  my  place,"  said  she,  "  and  I  always  take  it : 
and  I've  no  notion  of  not  taking  it.  But  Mrs  Thrale  lets  all 
sort  of  people  do  just  as  they've  a  mind  by  her." 

"  Ay,"  said  Mrs  Thrale,  "  why  should  I  torment  and 
546 


worry  myself  about  all  the  paltry  marks  of  respect  that  con- 
sist in  bows  and  courtesies  ? — I  have  no  idea  of  troubling 
myself  about  the  manners  of  all  the  people  I  mix  with." 

"  No/'  said  Lady  Ladd,  "  so  they  will  take  all  sorts  of 
liberties  with  you.  I  remember,  when  you  were  at  my 
house,  how  the  hair-dresser  flung  down  the  comb  as  soon 
as  you  were  dressed,  and  went  out  of  the  room  without 
making  a  bow." 

"  Well,  all  the  better,"  said  Mrs  Thrale ;  "  for  if  he 
had  made  me  one,  then  thousand  to  one  if  I  had  seen  it. 
I  was  in  as  great  haste  to  have  done  with  him,  as  he  could 
be  to  have  done  with  me.  I  was  glad  enough  to  get  him 
out  of  the  room  ;  I  did  not  want  him  to  stand  bowing  and 
cringing." 

"  If  any  man  had  behaved  so  insolently  to  me," 
answered  she,  "  I  would  never  again  have  suffered  him 
in  my  house." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs  Thrale,  "  your  Ladyship  has  a  great 
deal  more  dignity  than  I  have  !  Dr  Johnson,  we  are  talking 
of  the  respect  due  from  inferiors  ; — and  Lady  Ladd  is  of 
the  same  side  you  are." 

"  Why,  madam,"  said  he,  "  subordination  is  always 
necessary  to  the  preservation  of  order  and  decorum." 

"  I  protest,"  said  Lady  Ladd,  "  I  have  no  notion  of 
submitting  to  any  kind  of  impertinence :  and  I  never  will 
bear  either  to  have  any  nod  to  me,  or  enter  a  room  where 
I  am  without  bowing." 

"  But,  madam,"  said  Dr  Johnson,  "  what  if  they  will 
nod,  and  what  if  they  will  not  bow  ? — how  then  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  always  tell  them  of  it,"  said  she. 

"  Oh,  commend  me  to  that  !  "  cried  Mrs  Thrale  ;  "  I'd 
sooner  never  see  another  bow  in  my  life,  than  turn 
dancing-master  to  hair-dressers." 

547 


The  doctor  laughed  his  approbation,  but  said  that  every 
man  had  a  right  to  a  certain  degree  of  respect,  and  no  man 
liked  to  be  defrauded  of  that  right. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Mrs  Thrale,  "  I  hope  you  meet  with 
respect  enough." 

"  Yes,  madam,"  answered  he,  "  I  am  very  well  con- 
contented." 

"  Nay,  if  you  ain't,  I  don't  know  who  should  be  ;  for  I 
believe  there  is  no  man  in  the  world  so  greatly  respected." 

FANNY   BURNEY 

Diary  (1778) 


RURAL 


OXFORDSHIRE  SQUIRE 

You  have  now,  at  length,  left  scouring  the  Watch  and 
teizing  the  Exchange-women,  bid  adieu  to  Bourdeaux,  and 
taken  up  with  Barrel-ale.  You  are  all  the  morning  gallop- 
ping  after  a  Fox  ;  all  the  Evening  in  a  smoaky  Chimny- 
corner,  recounting  whose  Horse  leap'd  best,  was  oftenest 
in  with  the  Dogs,  and  how  readily  Lightfoot  hit  the  cooling 
Scent,  and  reviv'd  your  drooping  Spirits  with  a  prospect 
of  more  Diversion ;  which  some  Men,  who  think  them- 
selves as  wise  in  the  Enjoyment  of  this  World,  as  all  the 
men  in  Oxfordshire,  are  pleas'd  to  term  meer  fatigue.  And 
I  believe  your  own  Footman  would  not  ride  so  far  and  so 
hard,  to  fetch  a  good  Dinner,  as  both  of  you  do  to  see  the 

548 


Death  of  a  stinking  Beast.  .  .  .  Does  not  a  Masque  give  a 
more  Christian-like  chase,  and  conclude  in  more  satisfac- 
tion than  the  Animal  you  wot  of  ?  I  saw  your  Letters  to 
some  of  our  Club.,  and  laugh'd  not  a  little  at  the  strangeness 
of  your  Style  ;  it  smelt  of  filthy  Tobacco.,  and  was  stain'd 
with  your  dropping  Tankard.  You  acquainted  'em  at 
large  with  the  Situation  of  your  Mansion-House ;  how  a 
knot  of  branching  Elms  defended  it  from  the  North-wind  ; 
that  the  South-Sun  gave  you  good  Grapes,  and  most  sort  of 
Wall-fruits ;  your  Melons  came  on  apace,  and  you  had  hopes 
of  much  good  Fruit  this  Summer.  After  all,  in  Covent- 
garden  Market,  we  can  buy,  in  one  quarter  of  an  hour, 
better  Plants  than  yours,  and  richer  Melons,  for  Groats 
apiece,  than  you  have  been  poring  over  this  three  Months. 
You  thank'd  'em  for  some  News,  that  was  so  old  we  hardly 
could  imagine  what  you  meant,  till  Tom,  who  has  all  the 
Gazets  and  Pamphlets  lock'd  up  in  his  Heart,  as  David  did 
the  Commandments,  disclosed  the  Mystery  to  us.  I  pity 
your  new  State  indeed  :  Your  Gazets  are  as  stale  as  your 
Drink  ;  which,  tho'  brew'd  in  March,  is  not  broach'd  till 
December.  The  chief  Topicks  of  Discourse  (for  Conversa- 
tion you  have  none)  are  Hawks,  Horses,  and  Hounds ;  every 
one  of  'em  as  much  God's  Image  as  he  that  keeps  them.  . . . 
This  you  call  a  seasonable  retreat  from  the  Lewdness  of 
London,  to  enjoy  a  Calm  and  Quiet  Life  :  Heaven  knows, 
you  drink  more  there,  and  more  ignoble  and  ungenerous 
Liquors  than  we  in  Town ;  for  yours  is  down-right  Drink- 
ing. . . .  Well,  'tis  Six,  and  I  must  to  the  Club,  where  we 
will  pity  your  Solitude,  and  drink  your  Prosperity,  in  a 
Cup  that  is  worth  a  Stable  of  Horses  and  a  Kennel  of 
Hounds.  So  adieu. 

CAPTAIN  AYLOFFE 

Letter  to  a  Friend  in  the  Country  (1696) 
549 


NOT  WEARING  SHOES 

Are  you  so  determined  to  spend  your  time  now  in 
Lucania,  now  in  Campania  ?  .  .  .  Why  not  sometimes 
return  to  Rome,  where  there  are  dignities,  honours,  and 
friendships  both  greater  and  less.  For  how  long  do  you 
intend  to  play  the  lord,  wake  and  sleep  when  you  like, 
never  wear  shoes  or  full  dress,  and  be  free  all  day  ? 

PLINY  THE  YOUNGER,  Letter  to  Praesens  (c.  100) 


UNDER  THE  BEECH  TREE 

Look,  under  that  broad  Beech  tree  I  sate  down  when  I  was 
last  this  way  a  fishing,  and  the  birds  in  the  adjoining  grove 
seemed  to  have  a  friendly  contention  with  an  Eccho, 
whose  dead  voice  seemed  to  live  in  a  hollow  cave,  neer 
to  the  brow  of  that  Primrose  hill,  there  I  sat  viewing 
the  silver  streams  glide  silently  towards  their  center,  the 
tempestuous  sea  ;  yet  somtimes  opposed  by  rugged  roots, 
and  pibble  stones,  which  broke  their  waves,  and  turned 
them  into  foam  :  and  somtimes  viewing  the  harmlesse 
lambs,  some  leaping  securely  in  the  cool  shade,  whilst 
others  sported  them  selves  in  the  cheerful  sun  ;  and  others 
were  craving  comfort  from  the  swolne  udders  of  their 
bleating  Dams.  As  I  thus  sate,  these  and  other  sights  had 
so  fully  possest  my  soul,  that  I  thought,  as  the  Poet  has 
happily  exprest  it, 

I  was  for  that  time  lifted  above  earth, 
And  possest  joies  not  promis'd  in  my  birth. 

IZAAK  WALTON,  The  Compleat  Angler  (1653) 
550 


SUFFICIENT  RECREATION 

The  very  being  in  the  country,  that  life  it  selfe  is  a  suffi- 
cient recreation  to  some  men,  to  enjoy  such  pleasures  as 
those  old  Patriarkes  did.  Diocletian,  the  Emperor,  was  so 
much  affected  by  it,  that  he  gave  over  his  scepter,  and 
turned  Gardner. 

ROBERT  BURTON 

The  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  (1621.  Edition  1632) 


COUNTRY  PLEASURES 

DORINDA  :  You  share  in  all  the  Pleasures  that  the  Country 
affords. 

MRS  SULLEN:  Country  Pleasures!  Racks  and  Torments! 
dost  think,  Child,  that  my  Limbs  were  made  for  leaping  of 
Ditches,  and  clambring  over  Stiles ;  or  that  my  Parents 
wisely  foreseeing  my  future  Happiness  in  Country- 
Pleasures,  had  early  instructed  me  in  rural  Accomplish- 
ments of  drinking  fat  Ale,  playing  at  Whisk,  and  smoaking 
Tobacco  with  my  Husband  ;  or  of  spreading  of  Plaisters, 
brewing  of  Diet-drinks,  and  stilling  Rosemary- Water, 
with  the  good  old  Gentlewoman  my  Mother-in-Law  ? 
DOR.  :  I'm  sorry,  Madam,  that  it  is  not  more  in  our  power 
to  divert  you ;  I  cou'd  wish,  indeed,  that  our  Entertain- 
ments were  a  little  more  polite,  or  your  Taste  a  little  less 
refin'd  :  But  pray,  Madam,  how  came  the  Poets  and 
Philosophers,  that  labour'd  so  much  in  hunting  after 
Pleasure,  to  place  it  at  last  in  a  Country  Life  ? 
MRS  SUL.  :  Because  they  wanted  Money,  Child,  to  find 

551 


out  the  Pleasures  of  the  Town  :  Did  you  ever  see  a  Poet 
or  Philosopher  worth  ten  Thousand  Pound  ?  if  you 
can  shew  me  such  a  Man,  I'll  lay  you  Fifty  Pound  you'll 
find  him  somewhere  within  the  weekly  Bills. — Not  that  I 
disapprove  rural  Pleasures,  as  the  Poets  have  painted 
them ;  in  their  Landschape  every  Phillis  has  her  Coridon, 
every  murmuring  Stream,  and  every  flowry  Mead  gives 
fresh  Alarms  to  Love. — Besides,  you'll  find  that  their 
Couples  were  never  marry 'd. 

GEORGE  FARQUHAR 

The  Beaux'  Stratagem  (1707) 


HAPPY  PEOPLE 

Phoebe  drest  like  beauty's  queen, 
Jellicoe  in  faint  pea-green, 
Sitting  all  beneath  a  grot 
Where  the  little  lambkins  trot. 

Maidens  dancing,  loves  a-sporting,     ^ 
All  the  country  folks  a-courting, 
Susan,  Johnny,  Bob  and  Joe, 
Lightly  tripping  in  a  row. 

Happy  people,  who  can  be 
In  happiness  compar'd  with  ye  ? 
The  pilgrim  with  his  crook  and  hat 
Sees  your  happiness  complete. 

WILLIAM  BLAKE 
An  Island  in  the  Moon  (1784) 
552 


SQUIRELAND 


Mr  Chute  tells  me  you  have  taken  a  new  house  in  Squire- 
land,  and  have  given  yourself  up  for  two  years  more  to 
port  and  parsons.  I  am  very  angry,  and  resign  you  to  the 
works  of  the  devil  or  the  Church,  I  don't  care  which. 
You  will  get  the  gout,  turn  Methodist,  and  expect  to 
ride  to  Heaven  upon  your  own  great  toe.  .  .  .  Will  you 
end  like  a  fat  farmer,  repeating  annually  the  price  of  oats 
and  discussing  stale  newspapers  ? 

HORACE  WALPOLE 

Letter  to  George  Montagu  (1768) 


GENTLEMEN  SALVAGES 


ISABELLE  :  Sir  Timerous,  I  wish  you  well ;  but  he  I  marry 
must  promise  me  to  live  at  London  :  I  cannot  abide  to  be 
in  the  Country,  like  a  wilde  beast  in  the  wilderness,  with 
no  Christian  Soul  about  me. 

SIR  TIMEROUS  :  Why  Fli  bear  you  company. 
ISABELLE  :  I  cannot  endure  your  early  hunting  matches 
there  ;  to  have  my  sleep  disturbed  at  break  of  day,  with 
heigh  Fowler  Fowler,  there  Venus,  ah  Beauty  \  and  then  a 
serenade  of  deep  mouth Jd  curres,  to  answer  the  salutation 
of  the  Huntsman,  as  if  hell  were  broke  loose  about  me :  and 
all  this  to  meet  a  pack  of  Gentleman  Salvages  to  ride  all 
day  like  mad  men,  for  the  immortal  fame  of  being  first  in 
at  the  Hares  death  :  to  come  upon  the  spur  after  a  trayl  at 
four  in  the  afternoon  to  destruction  of  cold  meat  and  cheese, 

553 


with  your  leud  company  in  boots ;  fall  a  drinking  till 
Supper  time,  be  carried  to  bed,  rop'd  out  of  your  Seller, 
and  be  good  for  nothing  all  the  night  after.  jOHN  DRYDEN 

The  Wilde  Gallant  (1669) 


FIT  FOR  THE  COUNTRY 

"  Yet,  Sir,  (said  I)  there  are  many  people  who  are  content 
to  live  in  the  country."  JOHNSON.  "  Sir  ...  they  who  are 
content  to  live  in  the  country,  are  jfa  for  the  country." 

JAMES  BOSWELL 
Life  of  Johnson  (1791) 


LAUGHTER 

When  the  green  woods  laugh  with  the  voice  of  joy, 
And  the  dimpling  stream  runs  laughing  by ; 
When  the  air  does  laugh  with  our  merry  wit, 
And  the  green  hill  laughs  with  the  noise  of  it ; 

When  the  meadows  laugh  with  lively  green, 
And  the  grasshopper  laughs  in  the  merry  scene, 
When  Mary  and  Susan  and  Emily 
With  their  sweet  round  mouths  sing  "  Ha,  Ha,  He  !  " 

When  the  painted  birds  laugh  in  the  shade, 
Where  our  table  with  cherries  and  nuts  is  spread, 
Come  live,  and  be  merry,  and  join  with  me, 
To  sing  the  sweet  chorus  of  "  Ha,  Ha,  He  !  " 

WILLIAM  BLAKE 

Laughing  Song  (1784) 
554 


NORMANDY  GENTLEMAN 

I  am  much  better  off  in  my  own  part  of  the  country, 
where  I  am  very  distinguished,  than  lost  in  Paris  and 
submerged  at  Versailles. 

COMTE  DE   BUSSY   RABUTIN 

Letter  to  Corbinelli  (1686) 


MILKMAIDS 

To  Portholme,  seeing  the  country-maids  milking  their 
cows  there,  they  being  there  now  at  grass,  and  to  see  with 
what  mirth  they  come  all  home  together  in  pomp  with 
their  milk,  and  sometimes  they  have  musique  to  go  before 
them. 

SAMUEL  PEPYS 
Diary  (Oct.  13,  1662) 


GOING  RUSTIC 

I  now  hold  the  pen  for  my  Lord  Bolingbroke,  who  is 
reading  your  Letter  between  two  Haycocks  ;  but  his  atten- 
tion is  somewhat  diverted  by  casting  his  Eyes  on  the 
Clouds,  not  in  admiration  of  what  you  say,  but  for  fear  of 
a  Shower. ...  As  to  the  Return  of  his  Health  and  Vigour, 
were  you  here,  you  might  inquire  of  his  Hay-makers ; 
but  as  to  his  Temperance,  I  can  answer  that  (for  one 
whole  day)  we  have  had  nothing  for  Dinner  but  Mutton- 
broth,  Beans  and  Bacon,  and  a  Barn-door  Fowl. 

555 


Now  his  Lordship  is  run  after  his  Cart,  I  have  a  moment 
left  to  myself  to  tell  you,  that  I  overheard  him  yesterday 
agree  with  a  Painter  for  200  1.  to  paint  his  Country-Hall 
with  Trophies  of  Rakes,  Spades,  Prongs,  etc.,  and  other 
Ornaments,  merely  to  countenance  his  calling  this  Place 
a  Farm.  ALEXANDER  POPE 

Letter  to  Dean  Swift  (1728) 


A  SHORT  WALK 

LADY  :  Will  you  see  a  fayre  Meadowe  ?  Is  it  not  a  great 
comfort  to  the  eye  to  see  so  great  varyetie  of  flowers  ? 
and  then  cast  your  eye  upon  that  little  hill,  looke  how 
the  little  lambs  doe  skip  on  the  grasse  !  .  .  .  The  Sonne 
did  not  shine  heare  this  day,  for  the  grasse  is  yet  with 
dewe.  .  .  .  What  sweet  noyse  this  water  maketh  among  the 
pible  stones,  it  doth  enchaunte  me  almost  to  sleep  .  .  . 
maydens,  gather  some  water  cresses,  it  biteth  upon  the 
tongue  like  pepper.  .  .  . 

CHARLOTTE  :  Heare  how  the  small  birds  doe  chatter  their 
sweete  tunes,  would  to  God  I  had  one  of  them  !  I  would 
set  him  in  the  fayrest  Cage  that  I  could  get. 
MASTER  OUYT-AIGU  :  What  Mistris,  would  you  be  so 
cruell  as  to  deprive  him  of  his  libertie  ?  O  deere  libertie  ! 
God  grant  me  alwaies  the  key  of  the  fieldes,  I  would  like 
it  better,  then  to  be  in  bondage  in  the  fayrest  wainscotted 
or  tapistried  Chamber. 

Du  VAULT-L'AMOUR  :  I  knowe  a  gentle-woman,  which 
above  all  birds  loveth  a  Swallowe,  and  hath  no  content- 
ment but  when  she  enjoyeth  either  the  sight  or  the  voyce 
of  it. 

556 


MISTRIS  Du  PONT  GAILLARD  :  Yet  so  it  is,  that  it  is  an 
unconstant  and  wandering  bird,  and  that  hath  no  pleasant 
voyce. 

OUYT-AIGU  :  But  the  comming  of  it  is  pleasing,  for  it  doth 
denounce  the  spring-time,  is  a  very  good  Architector, 
and  hath  great  care  of  her  little  ones. 
LADY  :  Now  seeing  that  she  whome  you  say  loveth  her  so 
well,  I  pray  God  she  may  have  his  company  to  her  con- 
tent :  but  in  the  mean  while  let  us  retyre  us  for  it  is  verye 
hotte  :  let  us  goe  to  the  Orchard,  and  then  we  will  rest 
in  the  garden.  .  .  . 

PIERRE  ERONDELL 

The  French  Garden  (1605) 


THE  MERRY  COUNTRY  LAD 


Who  can  live  in  heart  so  glad, 
As  the  merrie  countrie  lad  ? 
Who  upon  a  faire  greene  balke 
May  at  pleasures  sit  and  walke  ? 
And  amidde  the  Azure  skies, 
See  the  morning  Sunne  arise  ? 
While  he  heares  in  every  spring, 
How  the  Birdes  doe  chirpe  and  sing 
Or,  before  the  houndes  in  crie, 
See  the  Hare  go  stealing  by  : 
Or  along  the  shallow  brooke, 
Angling  with  a  baited  hooke  : 
See  the  fishes  leape  and  play, 
In  a  blessed  Sunny  day  : 
557 


Or  to  heare  the  Partridge  call, 
Till  shee  have  her  Covye  all :  ... 
Then  the  Bee  to  gather  honey. 
And  the  little  blacke-haird  Cony, 
On  a  banke  for  Sunny  place, 
With  her  fore-feete  wash  her  face  : 
Are  not  these  with  thousandes  moe, 
Than  the  Courts  of  Kinges  doe  knowe  ? 

NICHOLAS   BRETON 

The  Passionate  Shepheard  (1604) 


SAGA  GROWTH 


SPREADING  STORIES 

He  had  a  trick  sometimes  to  goe  into  Westminster  hall 
in  a  morning  in  Terme  time,  and  tell  some  strange  story 
(sham)  and  would  come  hither  again  about  n  or  12  to 
have  the  pleasure  to  heare  how  it  spred  ;  and  sometimes 
it  would  be  altered,  with  additions,  he  could  scarce 
knowe  it  to  be  his  owne. 

JOHN  AUBREY 
Brief  Lives :  Thomas  Chaloner  (c.  1680) 


558 


SATISFACTORY 
ENGAGEMENTS 


THE  SHEPHERD  AND  His  LOVE 

At  Shearing  time  she  shall  commaund, 
The  finest  fleece  of  all  my  wooll : 
And  if  her  pleasure  but  demaund. 
The  fattest  from  the  leane  to  cull. 
She  shall  be  mistresse  of  my  store  : 
Let  mee  alone  to  worke  for  more. 

My  cloake  shall  lie  upon  the  ground, 
From  wet  and  dust  to  keepe  her  feete  : 
My  pipe  with  his  best  measures  found, 
Shall  welcome  her  with  musicke  sweete. 
And  in  my  skrippe,  some  cates  at  least : 
Shall  bid  her  to  a  Sheapheards  feast. 

My  staffe  shall  stay  her,  in  her  walke, 

My  dog  shall  at  her  heeles  attend  her : 

And  I  will  holde  her  with  such  talke, 

As  I  doe  hope  shall  not  offend  her, 

My  Eawes  shall  bleate,  my  Lambes  shall  play, 

To  shew  her  all  the  sport  they  may. 

Why  I  will  tell  her  twentie  thinges, 
That  I  have  heard  my  mother  tell : 
559 


Of  plucking  of  the  Buzzards  winges, 
For  killing  of  her  Cockerell, 
And  hunting  Rainard  to  his  denne, 
For  frighting  of  her  sitting  Hen. 

How  she  would  say,  when  shee  was  young. 
That  Lovers  were  ashamde  to  lie  : 
And  truth  was  so  on  everie  tongue. 
That  Love  ment  naught  but  honestie. 
And  Sirra  (quoth  shee)  then  to  me 
Let  ever  this  thy  lesson  be. 

Looke  when  thou  lovest,  love  but  one, 
And  let  her  worthy  be  thy  love  : 
Then  love  her  in  thy  heart  alone, 
And  let  her  in  thy  passions  proove, 
Aglaia  all  that  in  thy  minde, 
Within  thy  heart  her  love  shall  finde. 

And  as  shee  bad,  I  have  obeyed, 
I  love  in  heart  but  one  alone  : 
Whose  worthines  my  wits  dismaid, 
In  finding  such  a  worthy  one. 
As  in  Aglaia  all  doth  proove, 
All  under  heaven  my  only  love. 

And  in  that  love  to  live  and  die, 
And  die,  but  in  that  love  to  live  : 
And  love  that  cannot  live  to  lie, 
Shall  for  my  truth  this  warrant  give  : 
My  life  or  death,  to  save  or  lose, 
Shall  in  her  love  be  to  dispose. 

Her  eyes  shall  be  my  Sunne  to  guide  me, 
Her  hand  shall  holde  me  by  the  hearte, 
Her  censure  onely  shall  decide  me  : 
560 


What  I  protest  in  everie  parte. 

In  heart  to  serve  and  love  her  so. 

As  under  heaven  to  love  no  moe.  .  .  . 

And  I  will  tell  her  such  fine  tales, 
As  for  the  nonce,  I  will  devise  : 
Of  Lapwinges  and  of  Nightingales  : 
And  how  the  Swallow  feedes  on  flies. 
And  of  the  Hare,  the  Fox,  the  Hound, 
The  Pastor  and  the  Medow  ground. 

And  of  the  springes,  and  of  the  wood, 
And  of  the  Forrestes  and  the  Deere, 
And  of  the  rivers  and  the  floods, 
And  of  the  mirth  and  merrie  cheere, 
And  of  the  lookes  and  of  the  glaunces, 
Of  Maides  and  young  men  in  their  daunces  : 

Of  clapping  handes,  and  drawing  gloves, 
And  of  the  tokens  of  loves  truth, 
And  of  the  pretty  Turtle  Doves, 
That  teach  die  billinge  trickes  of  youth. 
And  how  they  kindely  ought  to  wooe, 
Before  the  tother  thing  they  doe. 
NICHOLAS  BRETON,  The  Passionate  Shepheard  (1604) 

THE  HAPPY  NIGHT 

On  a  time  the  amorous  Silvy 

Said  to  her  Shepheard,  Sweet,  how  do  you  ? 

Kisse  mee  this  once,  and  then  God  b'  wee  you, 

My  sweetest  deare. 

Kisse  me  this  once,  and  then  God  b*  wee  you, 
For  now  the  morning  draweth  neare. 


With  that,  her  fairest  bosome  shewing, 
Opening  her  lips,  rich  perfumes  blowing, 
She  said,  Now  kisse  me  and  be  going, 

My  sweetest  deare. 

Kisse  me  this  once  and  then  be  going, 
For  now  the  morning  draweth  neare. 

With  that  the  Shepheard  wak'd  from  sleeping, 
And  spying  where  the  day  was  peeping, 
He  said  Now  take  my  Soule  in  keeping, 

My  sweetest  deare. 

Kisse  me  and  take  my  Soule  in  keeping, 
Since  I  must  go  now,  day  is  neare. 

ANON  (1622) 

SIMON  AND  SUSAN 

SIMON  :       O  Mine  owne  sweet  heart, 

and  when  wilt  thou  be  true  : 
Or  when  will  the  time  come, 

that  I  shall  marry  you, 
That  I  may  give  you  kisses, 

one,  two  or  three, 
More  sweeter  then  the  hunny, 
'  that  comes  from  the  Bee. 

SUSAN  :       My  Father  is  unwilling 

that  I  should  marry  thee, 
Yet  I  could  wish  in  heart, 

that  so  the  same  might  be  : 
For  now  me  thinks  thou  seemest, 

more  lovely  unto  me  : 
And  fresher  then  the  Blossomes, 
that  bloomes  on  the  tree. 
562 


SIMON  :       Thy  mother  is  most  willing, 

and  will  consent  I  know. 
Then  let  us  to  thy  Father 

now  both  together  goe  : 
Where  if  he  give  us  his  good  will, 

and  to  our  match  agree  : 
Twill  be  sweeter  then  the  hunny 

that  comes  from  the  Bee. 

SUSAN  :       Come  goe,  for  I  am  willing, 

good  fortune  be  our  guide  : 
From  that  which  I  have  promised, 

deare  heart,  He  never  slide  : 
If  that  he  doe  but  smile, 

and  I  the  same  may  see, 
Tis  better  then  the  blossomes, 

that  bloomes  upon  the  tree. 

SIMON  :       But  stay  heere  comes  my  Mother, 

weele  talke  with  her  a  word  : 
I  doubt  not  but  some  comfort, 

to  us  she  may  afford  : 
If  comfort  she  will  give  us, 

that  we  the  same  may  see, 
Twill  be  sweeter  then  the  hunny, 

that  comes  from  the  Bee. 

SUSAN  :       O  Mother  we  are  going 

my  Father  for  to  pray, 

That  he  will  give  me  his  good  will, 
for  long  I  cannot  stay. 

A  young  man  I  have  chosen 
a  fitting  match  for  me, 

563 


More  fayrer  then  the  blossomes 
that  bloomes  on  the  tree. 

MOTHER  :    Daughter  thou  art  old  enough 

to  be  a  wedded  wife. 
You  maydens  are  desirous 

to  lead  a  marryed  life. 
Then  my  consent  good  daughter 

shall  to  thy  wishes  be, 
For  young  thou  art  as  blossomes 

that  bloome  upon  the  tree. 

SIMON  :       Then  mother  you  are  willing 

your  daughter  I  shall  have  : 
And  Susan  thou  art  welcome 

He  keepe  thee  fine  and  brave. 
And  have  those  wished  blessings 

bestowed  upon  thee, 
More  sweeter  then  the  honey 

that  comes  from  the  Bee. 

SUSAN  :       Yet  Simon  I  am  minded 

to  lead  a  merry  life, 
And  be  as  well  maintained 

as  any  Citie  wife  : 
And  live  a  gallant  mistresse 

of  maidens  that  shall  be 
More  fayrer  then  the  blossomes 

that  bloome  upon  the  tree. 

SIMON  :       Thou  shalt  have  thy  Caudles, 

before  thou  dost  arise  : 
For  churlishnesse  breeds  sicknesse 
and  danger  therein  lies. 
564 


Young  lasses  must  be  cherisht 
with  sweets  that  dainty  be, 

Farre  sweeter  then  the  honey 
that  commeth  from  the  Bee. 

MOTHER  :    Well  said  good  Son  and  Daughter, 

this  is  the  onely  dyet 
To  please  a  dainty  young  wife, 

and  keepe  the  house  in  quiet. 
But  stay,  here  comes  your  father, 

his  words  I  hope  will  be 
More  sweeter  then  the  blossomes 

that  bloome  upon  the  tree. 

FATHER  :     Why  how  now  daughter  Susan 

doe  you  intend  to  marry  ? 
Maydens  in  the  old  time 

did  twenty  winters  tarry. 
Now  in  the  teenes  no  sooner 

but  you  a  wife  will  be 
And  loose  the  sweetest  blossome 

that  bloomes  upon  thy  tree. 

SUSAN  :       It  is  for  my  preferment 

good  father  say  not  nay. 
For  I  have  found  a  husband  kinde 

and  loving  every  way  : 
That  still  unto  my  fancy 

will  evermore  agree, 
Which  is  more  sweet  then  honey 

that  comes  from  the  Bee. 

MOTHER  :   Hinder  not  your  daughter, 

good  husband,  lest  you  bring 

565 


Her  loves  consuming  sicknesse, 
or  else  a  worser  thing. 

Maydens  youngly  married 
loving  wives  will  be 

And  sweet  as  is  the  honey 

which  comes  from  the  Bee. 

SIMON  :       Good  father  be  not  cruell, 

your  daughter  is  mine  owne  : 
Her  mother  hath  consented 
and  is  to  liking  growne. 
And  if  your  selfe  will  give  then, 

her  gentle  hand  to  me, 
Twill  sweeter  be  then  honey 
that  comes  from  the  Bee. 

FATHER  :      God  give  thee  joy  deare  Daughter, 

there  is  no  reason  I 
Should  hinder  thy  proceeding, 

and  thou  a  mayden  die  : 
And  after  to  lead  Apes  in  hell, 

as  maidens  doomed  be  : 
That  fairer  are  then  blossomes 

that  bloome  upon  the  tree. 

SIMON  :       Then  let's  unto  the  Parson 

and  Clerke  to  say  Amen  : 

SUSAN  :       With  all  my  heart  good  Simon, 

we  are  concluded  then, 
My  father  and  my  mother  both 

doe  willingly  agree 
My  Simon's  sweet  as  honey 
that  comes  from  the  Bee. 
566 


ALL  TOGETHER  SING  I 

You  Maidens  and  Bachelors 

we  hope  will  lose  no  time, 
Which  learne  it  by  experience 

that  youth  is  in  the  prime, 
And  dally  in  their  hearts  desire 

young  married  folkes  to  be 
More  sweeter  then  the  blossomes 

that  bloome  upon  the  tree. 

Ibid.  (c.  1620) 


How  IT  SHOULD  BE  DONE 

MADELON  :  Father,  here  is  my  cousin,  who  will  tell  you 
too  that  marriage  ought  never  to  occur  except  after  other 
experiences.  A  lover,  to  be  agreeable,  must  know  how  to 
utter  fine  sentiments,  to  express  what  is  sweet,  tender  and 
passionate,  and  his  courtship  must  be  in  due  form.  First, 
he  must  see  at  church,  or  on  a  walk,  or  at  some  public 
function,  the  person  with  whom  he  falls  in  love ;  or  be 
taken  to  her  house  by  a  relation  or  friend,  and  come  away 
dreamy  and  melancholy.  For  a  time  he  hides  his  passion 
from  the  beloved  object,  but  nevertheless  pays  her  several 
visits,  on  which  he  does  n't  fail  to  bring  up  some  question 
of  gallantry  that  exercises  the  wits  of  the  company.  The 
day  of  the  declaration  arrives  ;  it  should  usually  be  made 
in  an  alley  of  some  garden,  while  the  company  is  a  little 
way  off;  and  it  is  followed  by  prompt  anger,  which  is  shown 
by  our  flush,  and  which,  for  a  time,  banishes  the  lover  from 
our  presence.  Presently  he  finds  means  of  appeasing  us, 
of  accustoming  us  insensibly  to  the  talk  of  his  passion, 

56? 


and  of  drawing  from  us  that  avowal  which  takes  so 
much  trouble.  After  that  come  adventures,  the  rivals  who 
place  themselves  in  the  way  of  an  established  attachment, 
the  persecutions  of  fathers,  jealousies  caused  by  false  ap- 
pearances, reproaches,  despairs,  abductions,  and  the  rest 
of  it.  That's  how  things  are  managed  in  the  right  style, 
and  those  are  the  rules  which,  in  proper  love  affairs,  can't 
be  dispensed  with.  But  to  come  without  any  preamble  to 
conjugal  union,  make  no  other  love  than  the  marriage 
contract,  and  seize  romance  only  by  its  tail, — once  more, 
father,  there  can  be  nothing  more  like  a  business  deal 
than  this  procedure,  and  I  feel  heart-sick  at  the  very 
thought  of  it. 

GORGIBUS  :  What  the  devil  is  this  kind  of  talk  ?  This  is 
the  grand  style  with  a  vengeance  ! 

JEAN   BAPTISTE    MOLIERE 

Les  Precieuses  Ridicules  (1659) 


MR  DARCY  AND  ELIZABETH 

On  first  hearing  it,  Mrs  Bennett  sat  quite  still,  and  unable 
to  utter  a  syllable.  Nor  was  it  under  many,  many  minutes, 
that  she  could  comprehend  what  she  heard,  though  not 
in  general  backward  to  credit  what  was  for  the  advantage 
of  her  family,  or  that  came  in  the  shape  of  a  lover  to  any 
of  them.  She  began  at  length  to  recover,  to  fidget  about  in 
her  chair,  get  up,  sit  down  again,  wonder,  and  bless  herself. 
"  Good  gracious  !  Lord  bless  me  !  only  think  !  dear  me  ! 
Mr  Darcy  !  Who  would  have  thought  it  ?  And  is  it  really 
true  ?  Oh,  my  sweetest  Lizzy  1  how  rich  and  how  great 
you  will  be  1  What  pin-money,  what  jewels,  what  carriages 

568 


you  will  have  !  Jane's  is  nothing  to  it — nothing  at  all.  I 
am  so  pleased — so  happy.  Such  a  charming  man  1  so 
handsome  !  so  tall  !  Oh,  my  dear  Lizzy  !  pray  apologise 
for  my  having  disliked  him  so  much  before.  I  hope  he  will 
overlook  it.  Dear,  dear  Lizzy.  A  house  in  town  !  Every- 
thing that  is  charming  !  Three  daughters  married  !  Ten 
thousand  a  year  !  Oh  Lord  !  what  will  become  of  me  ?  I 
shall  go  distracted." 

This  was  enough  to  prove  that  her  approbation  need 
not  be  doubted  ;  and  Elizabeth  .  .  .  soon  went  away.  But 
before  she  had  been  three  minutes  in  her  room,  her 
mother  followed  her. 

"  My  dearest  child,"  she  cried,  "  I  can  think  of  nothing 
else.  Ten  thousand  a  year,  and  very  likely  more  !  'Tis  as 
good  as  a  lord  !  And  a  special  licence — you  must  and  shall 
be  married  by  a  special  licence.  But,  my  dearest  love,  tell 
me  what  dish  Mr  Darcy  is  particularly  fond  of,  that  I 
may  have  it  to-morrow."  JANE  AUSTEN 

Pride  and  Prejudice  (1813) 


THE  BALLET  OF  BALLETS  OF  SALOMON:  CALLED 
IN  LATYNE,  CANTICUM  CANTICORUM 

Lyke  as  the  apple  tree  amonge  the  trees  of  the  wod,  so  is 
my  beloved  among  the  sonnes.  My  delite  is  to  sit  under 
his  shadowe,  for  his  frute  is  swete  unto  my  throte.  He 
bringeth  me  in  to  his  wyne  celler,  and  loveth  me  specially 
well.  Refresh  me  with  grapes,  comforte  me  with  apples, 
for  I  am  sycke  of  love.  His  lefte  hande  lycth  under  my 
head,  and  his  ryghtc  hand  embraceth  me.  ... 

Methinke  I  heare  the  voyce  of  my  beloved ;  lo,  there 
569 


commeth  he  hopping  upon  the  mountaynes,  and  leaping 
over  the  litle  hylles.  My  beloved  is  like  a  roo  or  a  yong 
hart.  Beholde  he  standeth  behynde  our  wall,  he  loketh 
in  at  the  wyndowe,  and  pepeth  thorowe  the  grate. 

My  beloved  answered  and  sayd  unto  me,  O  stand  up  my 
love,  my  dove,  my  beautiful,  and  come :  for  loe  the  wynter 
is  now  past,  and  the  rayne  is  awaye  and  gone.  The  flouers 
are  come  up  in  the  feilde,  the  twisting  time  is  come,  the 
voyce  of  the  turtle  is  heard  in  our  land,  the  fig  tree  bryng- 
eth  forth  her  fygges,  the  vynes  bare  blossoms,  and  have  a 
good  smell.  O  stande  up,  my  love,  my  beautifull,  and  come 
O  my  dove  out  of  the  caverns  of  the  rocks,  out  of  the 
holes  of  the  wall :  O  let  me  see  thy  countenance  and  heare 
thy  voyce,  for  swete  is  thy  voyce  and  fayre  is  thy  face.  .  .  . 
My  love  is  myne  and  I  am  his,  which  fedeth  among  the 
lilyes  untyl  the  daye  break,  and  tyl  the  shadowes  be  gone. 
Come  agayne  privyly  (O  my  beloved)  lyke  as  a  Roo  or  a 
yong  Hart,  unto  the  mountaynes.  .  .  . 

As  for  my  love,  he  is  whyte  and  redde  coloured,  a  syngu- 
lar  person  among  many  thousandes  ;  his  heed  is  the  most 
fine  gold,  the  lockes  of  his  heer  are  busshed,  browne  as 
the  evening  :  his  eyes  are  as  the  eyes  of  doves  by  water 
brookes,  wasshen  with  mylke  and  remayning  in  a  plente- 
ous place  :  his  chekes  are  like  a  garden  bed,  wherin  the 
Apotecaryes  plante  all  maner  of  swete  thynges :  his 
lyppes  drop  as  the  flouers  of  that  most  principall  Myrre, 
his  handes  are  full  of  golde  ryngcs  and  precious  stones.  His 
body  is  as  the  pure  yvory,  deckt  over  with  Saphirs :  his 
legges  are  as  the  pyllers  of  marble,  set  upon  sockett  of 
gold.  His  face  is  as  Libanus,  and  as  the  beautie  of  the 
Cedar  trees :  his  throte  is  swete,  yea  he  is  altogithcr  lovely. 
Such  one  is  my  love,  O  ye  daughters  of  Jerusalem,  such 
one  is  my  love.  .  .  . 

570 


Thou  art  pleasaunt  (O  my  love)  even  as  lovelynesse  it 
self,  thou  art  fayre  as  Jerusalem,  glorious  as  an  army  of 
men  with  their  banners.  .  .  .  Thy  heavye  lockes  are  lyke 
a  flocke  of  goates  upon  the  mount  of  Galaad.  Thy  teth 
are  lyke  a  flock  of  shepe  that  be  clypped,  which  go  out  of 
the  washy nge  place  ;  where  every  one  beareth  two  twyns, 
and  not  one  unfrutefull  among  them.  Thy  chekes  are  lyke 
a  pece  of  a  pomgranate,  besydes  that  which  lyeth  hyd 
wuthin.  There  are  three  score  quenes,  foure  score  con- 
cubynes,  and  yong  women  without  nomber.  But  one  is 
my  dove,  my  darling. 

SALOMONS  BALLET 

Trans.  Miles  Coverdale 
Bible  (1539) 


MlRABELL   AND   MlLLAMANT 

MILL  AM  ANT  :  .  .  .  Ah,  I'll  never  marry,  unless  I  am  first 
made  sure  of  my  Will  and  Pleasure. 
MIRABELL  :  Would  you  have  'em  both  before  Marriage  ? 
Or  will  you  be  contented  with  the  first  now,  and  stay  for 
the  other  'till  after  Grace  ? 

MILL.  :  Ah  don't  be  impertinent — My  dear  Liberty, 
shall  I  leave  thee  ?  My  faithful  Solitude,  my  darling 
Contemplation,  must  I  bid  you  then  Adieu  ?  .  .  .  — My 
Morning  Thoughts,  agreeable  Wakings,  indolent  Slum- 
bers, all  ye  douceurs,  ye  Someils  du  Matin,  adieu — I  can't 
do't,  'tis  more  than  impossible — Positively  Mirabell,  I'll 
lye  a-bed  in  a  Morning  as  long  as  I  please. 
MIR.  :  Then  I'll  get  up  in  a  Morning  as  early  as  I  please. 

571 


MILL.  :  Ah  !  Idle  Creature,  get  up  when  you  will — And 
d'ye  hear,  I  won't  be  call'd  Names  after  I'm  marry'd  ; 
positively  I  won't  be  call'd  Names. 
MIR.  :  Names  ! 

MILL.  :  Ay,  as  Wife,  Spouse,  my  Dear,  Joy,  Jewel,  Love, 
Sweet-heart,  and  the  rest  of  that  nauseous  Cant,  in  which 
Men  and  their  Wives  are  so  fulsomly  familiar, — I  shall 
never  bear  that.  Good  Mirabel!,  don't  let  us  be  familiar 
or  fond,  nor  kiss  before  Folks,  like  my  Lady  Fadler  and 
Sir  Francis  :  Nor  go  to  Hide-Park  together  the  first 
Sunday  in  a  new  Chariot,  to  provoke  Eyes  and  Whispers  ; 
And  then  never  be  seen  there  together  again,  as  we  were 
proud  of  one  another  the  first  Wreek,  and  asham'd  of  one 
another  ever  after.  Let  us  never  Visit  together,  nor  go  to 
a  Play  together,  but  let  us  be  very  strange  and  well-bred  : 
Let  us  be  as  strange  as  if  we  had  been  marry'd  a  great 
while,  and  as  well-bred  as  if  we  were  not  marry'd  at  all. 

MIR.  :  Have  you  any  more  Conditions  to  offer  ?  Hitherto 
your  Demands  are  pretty  reasonable. 

MILL.:  Trifles, — As  Liberty  to  pay  and  receive  Visits  to  and 
from  whom  I  please ;  to  write  and  receive  Letters,  without 
Interrogatories  or  wry  Faces  on  your  part ;  to  wear  what 
I  please,  and  chuse  Conversation  with  regard  only  to  my 
own  Taste  ;  to  have  no  Obligation  on  me  to  converse  with 
Wits  that  I  don't  like,  because  they  are  your  Acquaintance; 
or  to  be  intimate  with  Fools,  because  they  may  be  your 
Relations.  Come  to  Dinner  when  I  please,  dine  in  my 
Dressing-Room  when  I'm  out  of  Humour,  without  giving 
a  Reason.  To  have  my  closet  inviolate  ;  to  be  sole  Empress 
of  my  Tea-table,  which  you  must  never  presume  to 
approach  without  first  asking  leave.  And  lastly  whcre- 
ever  I  am,  you  shall  always  knock  at  the  Door  before  you 

572 


come  in.  These  Articles  subscribed,  if  I  continue  to  endure 
you  a  little  longer,  I  may  by  degrees  dwindle  into  a  Wife. 

Mm.  :  Your  Bill  of  Fare  is  somewhat  advanced  in  this 
latter  Account.  Well,  have  I  Liberty  to  offer  Conditions 
— That  when  you  are  dwindled  into  a  Wife,  I  may  not  be 
beyond  measure  enlarg'd  into  a  Husband. 

MILL.  :  You  have  free  leave,  propose  your  utmost,  speak 
and  spare  not. 

MIR.  :  I  thank  you.  Inprimis  then,  I  covenant  that  your 
Acquaintance  be  general ;  that  you  admit  no  sworn 
Confident,  or  Intimate  of  your  own  Sex ;  no  she  Friend 
to  skreen  her  Affairs  under  your  Countenance,  and  tempt 
you  to  make  Trial  of  a  mutual  Secresie.  No  Decoy-Duck 
to  wheadle  you  a  fop — scambling  to  the  Play  in  a  Mask — 
Then  bring  you  home  in  a  pretended  Fright,  when  you 
think  you  shall  be  found  out.  And  rail  at  me  for  missing 
the  Play,  and  disappointing  the  Frolick  which  you  had  to 
pick  me  up  and  prove  my  Constancy, 

MILL.  :  Detestable  Inprimis  !  I  go  to  the  Play  in  a  Mask  ! 

MIR.  :  Item.  I  article,  that  you  continue  to  like  your  own 
Face,  as  long  as  I  shall :  And  while  it  passes  currant  with 
me,  that  you  endeavour  not  to  new  Coin  it.  To  which  end, 
together  with  all  Vizards  for  the  Day,  I  prohibit  all  Masks 
for  the  Night,  made  of  Oil'd-skins  and  I  know  not  what — 
Hog's  bones,  Hare's  Gall,  Pig  Water,  and  the  Marrow  of  a 
roasted  Cat.  In  short,  I  forbid  all  Commerce  with  the 
Gentlewoman  in  what-d'ye-call-it  Court.  Item.  I  shut  my 
doors  against  all  Bauds  with  Basket  and  penny-worths  of 
Muslin,  China,  Fans,  At  lasses,  etc. — Item,  when  you  shall 
be  Breeding 

MILL.  :  Ah  !  Name  it  not. 

573 


MIR.  :  Which  may  be  presum'd,  with  a  Blessing  on  our 
Endeavours — 

MILL.  :  Odious  Endeavours  ! 

MIR.  :  I  denounce  against  all  strait  Lacing,  squeezing 
for  a  Shape,  'till  you  mould  my  Boy's  Head  like  a  Sugar- 
Loaf  ;  and  instead  of  a  Man-child,  make  me  Father  to  a 
Crooked-Billet.  Lastly,  to  the  Dominion  of  the  Tea-Table 
I  submit. — But  with  provisio,  that  you  exceed  not  in 
your  Province  ;  but  restrain  yourself  to  native  and  simple 
Tea-Table  Drinks,  as  Tea,  Chocolate,  and  Coffee.  As  like- 
wise to  Genuine  and  Authoriz'd  Tea-Table  Talk — Such 
as  mending  of  Fashions,  spoiling  Reputations,  railing  at 
absent  Friends,  and  so  forth — But  that  on  no  Account  you 
encroach  upon  the  Mens  Prerogative,  and  presume  to  drink 
Healths,  or  toast  Fellows  ;  for  prevention  of  which,  I 
banish  all  Foreign  Forces,  all  Auxiliaries  to  the  Tea-Table, 
as  Orange- Brandy,  all  Anniseed,  Cinamon,  Citron,  and 
Barbado's- Waters,  together  with  Ratafia  and  the  most 
noble  spirit  of  Clary.  But  for  Cow  slip- Wine,  Poppy- 
Water,  and  all  Dormitives,  those  I  allow. — These  Proviso's 
admitted,  in  other  things  I  may  prove  a  tractable  and  com- 
plying Husband. 

MILL.  :  O  horrid  Proviso's !  filthy  strong  Waters  !  I 
toast  Fellows,  Odious  Men  !  I  hate  your  odious  Proviso's. 

MIR.  :  Then  we're  agreed.  Shall  I  kiss  your  Hand  upon 
the  Contract  ?  and  here  comes  one  to  be  a  witness  to  the 
Sealing  of  the  Deed. 

Enter  MRS  FAINALL 

MILL.  :  Fainall,  what  snail  I  do  ?  Shall  I  have  him  ?  I 
think  I  must  have  him. 

574 


MRS  FAIN.  :  Ay,  ay,  take  him,  take  him,  what  shou'd  you 
do? 

MILL.  :  Well  then— I'll  take  my  Death  I'm  in  a  horrid 
Fright — Fainally  I  shall  never  say  it — Well — I  think — 
I'll  endure  you. 

MRS  FAIN.  :  Fy,  fy,  have  him,  have  him,  and  tell  him  so 
in  plain  terms  :  For  I  am  sure  you  have  a  Mind  to  him. 
MILL.  :  Are  you  ?  I  think  I  have — and  the  horrid  Man 
looks  as  if  he  thought  so  too — Well,  you  ridiculous  thing 
you,  I'll  have  you — I  won't  be  kissed,  nor  I  won't  be 
thank'd —  Here,  kiss  my  hand  tho' — So  hold  your 
Tongue  now,  don't  say  a  Word. 

WILLIAM   CONGREVE 

The  Way  of  the  World  (1700) 


A  HIGH-MINDED  PAIR 

One  day  when  he  was  there,  looking  upon  an  odde  by- 
shelf,  in  her  sister's  closett,  he  found  a  few  Latine  bookes  ; 
asking  whose  they  were,  he  was  told  they  were  her  elder 
sister's,  whereupon,  inquiring  more  after  her,  he  began 
first  to  be  sorrie  she  was  gone  before  he  had  scene  her.  .  .  . 
Then  he  grew  to  love  to  heare  mention  of  her,  and  the 
other  gentlewomen  who  had  bene  her  companions,  used  to 
talke  much  to  him  of  her,  telling  him  how  reserv'd  and 
studious  she  was,  and  other  things  which  they  esteem'd 
no  advantage  ;  but  it  so  much  inflam'd  Mr.  Hutchinson's 
desire  of  seeing  her,  that  he  began  to  wonder  at  himselfe 
that  his  heart,  which  had  ever  had  such  an  indifferency 
for  the  most  excellent  of  womankind,  should  have  such 

575 


strong  impulses  towards  a  stranger  he  never  saw ;  and 
certainly  it  was  of  the  Lord,  (though  he  perceiv'd  it  not), 
who  had  ordein'd  him,  thro'  so  many  various  providences, 
to  be  yoak'd  with  her  in  whom  he  found  so  much  satisfac- 
tion. There  scarcely  past  anie  day,  but  some  accident  or 
some  discourse  still  kept  alive  his  desire  of  seeing  this 
gentlewoman.  .  .  .  One  day  there  was  a  greate  deale  of 
company  mett  at  Mr.  Coleman's,  the  gentleman's  house 
where  he  tabled,  to  heare  the  musick,  and  a  certeine  song 
was  sung  .  , .  and  gave  occasion  to  some  of  the  company  to 
mention  an  answer  to  it,  which  was  in  the  house,  and 
upon  some  of  their  desires  read  :  a  gentleman  saying 
'twas  believ'd  that  a  woman  in  the  neighbourhood  had 
made  it,  it  was  presently  inquir'd  who  ?  whereupon  a 
gentleman,  then  present  .  .  .  sayd,  there  were  but  two 
women  that  could  be  guilty  of  it,  whereof  one  was  .  .  . 
Mrs.  Apsley.  Mr.  Hutchinson,  fancying  something  of 
rationallity  in  the  sonnett,  beyond  the  customary  reach 
of  a  shee-witt,  allthough,  to  speak  truth,  it  signified  very 
little,  addrest  himself  to  the  gentleman,  and  told  him,  he 
could  scarcely  believe  it  was  a  woman's,  whereupon  this 
gentleman,  who  was  a  man  of  good  understanding  and 
expression,  and  inspir'd  with  some  passion  for  her  him- 
selfe,  which  made  him  regard  all  her  perfections  through  a 
multiplying  glasse,  told  Mr.  Hutchinson,  that  ...  he 
was  confident  it  was  Mrs.  Apsley 's  only,  for  she  had  sence 

above  all  the  rest Mr.  Hutchinson  hearing  all  this,  sayd 

...  I  cannot  be  at  rest  till  this  ladie's  returne,  that  I  may 
be  acquainted  with  her ;  the  gentleman  replied,  Sir,  you 
must  not  expect  that,  for  she  is  of  an  humour  she  will  not 
be  acquainted  with  any  of  mankind,  and  however  this  song 
is  stolen  forth,  she  if  the  nicest  creature  in  the  world  of 
suffering  her  perfections  to  be  knowne,  she  shuns  the 

576 


converse  of  men  as  the  plague,  she  only  lives  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  herself,  and  has  not  the  humanitie  to  communi- 
cate that  happiness  to  any  of  our  sex.  "  Well,"  sayd  Mr. 
Hutchinson,  "  but  I  will  be  acquainted  with  her  "  ;  and 
indeed  the  information  of  this  reserv'd  humour  pleas'd 
him,  more  than  all  elce  he  had  heard,  and  fill'd  him  now 
with  thoughts,  how  he  should  attaine  the  sight  and 
knowledge  of  her.  .  .  .  This  at  length  he  obteined  ;  but 
his  heart,  being  prepossesst  with  his  owne  fancy,  was 
not  free  to  discerne  how  little  there  was  in  her  to  answer 
so  greate  an  expectation.  She  was  not  ugly,  in  a  carelesse 
riding-habitt  she  had  a  melancholly  negligence  both  of 
herselfe  and  others,  as  if  she  neither  affected  to  please 
others,  nor  tooke  notice  of  anie  thing  before  her  :  yet 
spite  of  all  her  indifferency,  she  was  surpriz'd  with  some 
unusuall  liking  in  her  soule,  when  she  saw  this  gentleman, 
who  had  hake,  eies,  shape,  and  countenance  enough  to 
begett  love  in  any  one  at  the  first,  and  these  sett  of  with  a 
gracefull  and  generous  mine,  which  pro  mis 'd  an  extra- 
ordinary person ;  he  was  at  that  time,  and  indeed  always 
very  neatly  habited,  for  he  wore  good  and  rich  clothes, 
and  had  variety  of  them,  and  had  them  well  suited  and 
every  way  answerable.  ...  He  found  withall,  that  though 
she  was  modest,  she  was  accostable,  and  willing  to  enter- 
taine  his  acquaintance.  This  soone  past  into  a  mutuall 
friendship  betweene  them,  and  though  she  innocently 
thought  nothing  of  love,  yett  was  she  glad  to  have 
acquir'd  such  a  friend.  .  .  .  Mr.  Hutchinson,  on  the  other 
side,  having  bene  told,  and  seeing  how  she  shun'd  all 
other  men,  and  how  civilly  she  entertain'd  him,  believ'd 
that  a  secret  power  had  wrought  a  mutuall  inclination 
betweene  them,  and  dayly  frequented  her  mother's  house, 
and  had  the  opportunitie  of  conversing  with  her  in  those 
TP  577 


pleasant  walkes,  which,  at  that  sweete  season  of  the  spring, 
invited  all  the  neighbouring  inhabitants  to  seeke  their 
joyes  ;  where,  though  they  were  never  alone,  yet  they  had 
every  day  opertunity  for  converse  with  each  other,  which 
the  rest  shar'd  not  in,  while  every  one  minded  their  owne 
delights.  ...  He  in  the  meane while  prosecuted  his  live, 
with  so  much  discretion,  duty,  and  honor  that  at  the 
length,  through  many  difficulties,  he  accomplisht  his 
designe.  I  shall  passe  by  all  the  little  amorous  relations, 
which  if  I  would  take  the  paynes  to  relate,  would  make  a 
true  history  of  a  more  handsome  management  of  love 
then  the  best  romances  describe ;  for  these  are  to  be 
forgotten  as  the  vanities  of  youth,  not  worthy  of  mention 
among  the  greater  transactions  of  his  life.  There  is  this 
only  to  be  recorded,  that  never  was  there  a  passion  more 
ardent  and  lesse  idolatrous  ;  he  lov'd  her  better  than  his 
life,  with  inexpressible  tendernesse  and  kindnesse,  had  a 
most  high  obliging  esteeme  of  her,  yet  still  consider'd 
honour,  religion,  and  duty,  above  her,  nor  ever  suffer 'd 
the  intrusion  of  such  a  dotage  as  should  blind  him  from 
marking  her  imperfections  ;  these  he  looked  upon  with 
such  an  indulgent  eie  as  did  not  abate  his  love  and  esteeme 
of  her,  while  it  augmented  his  care  to  blott  out  all  those 
spotts  which  might  make  her  appeare  lesse  worthy  of  that 
respect  he  pay'd  her  ;  and  thus  indeed  he  soone  made  her 
more  equall  to  him  than  he  found  her  ;  for  she  was  a  very 
faithfull  mirror,  reflecting  truly,  though  but  dimmely, 
his  owne  glories  upon  him,  so  long  as  he  was  present.  .  .  . 
'Twas  not  her  face  he  lov'd,  her  honor  and  her  vertue 
were  his  mistresses,  and  these  (like  Pigmalion's)  images  of 
his  owne  making.  .  .  .  That  day  that  the  friends  on  both 
sides  met  to  conclude  the  marriage,  she  fell  sick  of  the 
small  pox,  which  was  many  wayes  a  greate  triall  upon 

578 


him ;  first,  her  life  was  allmost  in  desperate  hazard,  and 
then  the  disease,  for  the  present,  made  her  the  most 
deformed  person  that  could  be  scene,  for  a  greate  while 
after  she  recover'd  ;  yett  he  was  nothing  troubled  at  it,  but 
married  her  as  soone  as  she  was  able  to  quitt  the  chamber 
when  the  priest  and  all  that  saw  her  were  affrighted  to 
looke  on  her :  but  God  recompenc'd  his  justice  and 
constancy,  by  restoring  her,  though  she  was  longer  than 
ordinary  before  she  recover'd,  as  well  as  before.  One  thing 
is  very  observable,  and  worthy  imitation  in  him  ;  although 
he  had  as  strong  and  violent  affection  for  her  as  any  man 
had,  yet  he  declar'd  it  not  to  her  till  he  had  first  acquainted 
her  father. ...  At  length,  to  the  full  content  of  all,  the  thing 
was  accomplish'd,  and  on  the  third  day  of  July,  in  the 
1638,  he  was  married  to  Mrs.  Lucy  Apsley,  the  second 
daughter  of  Sr.  Allen  Apsley,  late  liftenant  of  the  Tower 
of  London,  at  St.  Andrew's  church  in  Holborne. 

LUCY  HUTCHINSON 
Memoirs  of  Life  of  John  Hutchinson  (c.  1665) 


WILLIAM  AND  DOROTHY 

Nothing  can  alter  the  resolution  I  have  taken  of  settling 
my  whole  stock  of  happinesse  upon  the  affection  of  a 
person  that  is  deare  to  mee  whose  kindnesse  I  shall 
infinitly  preffer  before  any  other  consideration  what- 
soever, and  I  shall  not  blush  to  tell  you,  that  you  have 
made  the  whole  world  besydes  soe  indifferent  to  mee, 
that  if  I  cannot  be  yours  they  may  dispose  mee  how  they 
please,  H.C.  will  be  as  acceptable  to  me  as  anybody  else. 

DOROTHY   OSBORNE 

Letter  to  Sir  William  Temple  (1653) 
579 


A  PRETTY  RIDDLE 

Down  in  a  Garden  sat  my  dearest  love 
Her  skin  more  soft  than  down  of  Swan, 
More  tender  hearted  than  the  Turtle  Dove, 
And  far  more  kinde  than  bleeding  Pellican ; 
I  courted  her,  she  rose,  and  blushing  said, 
Why  was  I  born  to  live,  and  die  a  Maid  ? 
With  that  I  pluckt  a  pretty  Marygold, 
Whose  dewy  leaves  shut  up  when  day  is  done, 
Sweeting  (I  said)  arise,  look  and  behold, 
A  pretty  Riddle  Fie  to  thee  unfold. 
These  leaves  shut  in  as  close  as  cloyster'd  Nun, 
Yet  will  thye  open  when  they  see  the  Sun. 
What  mean  you  by  this  Riddle  Sir,  she  said, 
I  pray  expound  it :  Then  I  thus  began, 
Are  not  Men  made  for  Maids,  and  Maids  for  Men  ? 
With  that  she  chang'd  her  colour,  and  grew  wan, 
Since  now  this  Riddle  you  so  well  unfold, 
Be  you  the  Sun,  Fie  be  the  Marygold.  ANON 

Song  70  :  New  Academy  of  Compliments  (c.  1630) 

THE  LOST  NYMPH 

Tell  me  you  wandering  spirits  of  the  Ayre, 
Did  you  not  see  a  Nimph  more  bright,  more  faire 
Then  beauties  darling,  or  of  parts  more  sweet 
Than  stolne  content  ?  If  such  a  one  you  meet 
Wait  on  her  hourely  where  so  e're  she  flies, 
And  cry,  and  cry,  Amintas  for  her  absence  dies. 

Go  search  the  Vallies,  pluck  up  every  Rose, 
You'l  find  a  scent,  a  blush  of  her  in  those  : 
580 


Fish,  Fish  for  Pearle,  or  Corrall,  there  you'l  see 

How  orientall  all  her  colours  bee  : 

Go  call  the  Ecchoes  to  your  ayde,  and  cry, 
Chloris,  Chloris,  for  that's  her  name  for  whom  I  dy. 

But  stay  a  while,  I  have  inform'd  you  ill, 
Were  she  on  earth,  she  had  been  with  me  still : 
Go  fly  to  Heaven,  examine  every  Sphere, 
And  try  what  Star  hath  lately  lighted  there ; 
If  any  brighter  than  the  Sun  you  see. 
Fall  down,  fall  down  and  worship  it,  for  that  is 
shee.  ANON 

Select  Musicall  Ayres  and  Dialogues  (1672) 


SCEPTICISM 


HERODOTUS  DOUBTS 

Besides  many  other  stories  which  the  Hellenes  tell  with- 
out due  consideration,  this  tale  is  especially  foolish  which 
they  tell  about  Heracles —  I  for  my  part  am  of  the  opinion 
that  die  Hellenes  when  they  tell  this  tale  are  altogether 
without  knowledge  of  the  nature  and  customs  of  the 
Egyptians.  .  .  .  Besides  this,  how  is  it  possible  that 
Heracles,  being  one  person  only  .  .  .  should  slay  many 
myriads  ?  Having  said  so  much  of  these  matters,  we  pray 
that  we  may  have  grace  from  both  the  gods  and  the 
heroes  for  our  speech.  .  .  . 


I  do  not  believe  this  tale  either,  that  nature  produces 
one-eyed  men  which  in  all  other  respects  are  like  other 
men.  .  .  . 

These  bald-headed  men  say  (though  I  do  not  believe 
it)  that  the  mountains  are  inhabited  by  men  with  goats' 
feet ;  and  that  .  .  .  others  are  found  who  sleep  through  six 
months  of  the  year.  This  I  do  not  admit  at  all  as  true.  .  .  . 

As  to  the  feathers  of  which  the  Scythians  say  the  air 
is  full  .  .  .  the  opinion  which  I  have  is  this  : — in  the  parts 
beyond  this  land  it  snows  continually.  .  .  .  Now  whoso- 
ever has  seen  close  at  hand  snow  falling  thickly  knows 
what  I  mean  without  further  explanation.  .  .  . 

It  is  said  of  them  by  the  Scythians  .  .  .  that  once  in 
every  year  each  of  the  Neuroi  becomes  a  wolf  for  a  few 
days,  and  then  returns  to  his  original  form.  For  my  part  I 
do  not  believe  them  when  they  say  this,  but  they  say  it 
nevertheless,  and  swear  it  moreover.  .  .  . 

I  marvel  if  the  tale  is  true  which  is  reported,  for  it  is 
said  that  he  dived  into  the  sea  at  Aphetai  and  did  not  come 
up  till  he  reached  Artemision,  having  traversed  here  some- 
where about  eighty  furlongs  through  the  sea.  Now  there 
are  told  about  this  man  several  other  tales  which  seem 
likely  to  be  false,  but  some  also  which  are  true  :  about 
this  matter  however  let  it  be  stated  as  my  opinion  that  he 
came  to  Artemision  in  a  boat. 

HERODOTUS  (sth  cent.  B.C.) 
Trans.  G.  C.  Macaulay 


PLINY  Too 

That  men  may  be  transformed  into  wolves,  and  restored 
again  to  their  former  shape,  we  must  confidently  beleeve 

582 


to  be  a  lowd  lie,  or  else  give  credit  to  all  those  tales  which 
we  have  for  so  many  ages  found  to  be  meere  fables.  .  .  . 
A  wonder  it  is  to  see,  to  what  passe  these  Greekes  are 
come  in  their  credulity  :  there  is  not  so  shamelesse  a  lye 
but  it  findeth  one  or  other  of  them  to  uphold  and  main- 
taine  it. 

PLINY  THE  ELDER,  Natural  History  (c.  77) 
Trans.  Philemon  Holland  (1601) 


THE  STRANGE  RELATIONS  OF  AUTHORS 

The  strange  relations  made  by  Authors,  may  sufficiently 
discourage  our  adherence  unto  Authority,  and  which  if 
we  believe  we  must  be  apt  to  swallow  anything. . . . 

The  common  opinion  of  the  Ostrich  ...  or  Sparrow- 
Camel,  conceives  that  it  digesteth  Iron ;  and  this  is  con- 
firmed by  the  affirmations  of  many.  .  .  .  Notwithstanding 
upon  enquiry  we  find  it  very  questionable,  and  the  nega- 
tive seems  most  reasonably  entertained ;  whose  verity 
indeed  we  do  the  rather  desire,  because  hereby  we  shall 
relieve  our  ignorance  of  one  occult  quality.  .  .  . 

We  shall  not,  I  hope,  disparage  the  Resurrection  of  our 
Redeemer,  if  we  say  the  Sun  doth  not  dance  on  Easter 
Day.  And  though  we  would  willingly  assent  unto  any 
sympathetical  exultation,  yet  cannot  conceive  therein 
any  more  than  a  Tropical  expression.  Whether  any  such 
motion  there  were  in  that  day  wherein  Christ  arised, 
Scripture  hath  not  revealed,  which  hath  been  punctual 
in  other  records  concerning  solar  miracles  :  and  the 
Areopagite  that  was  amazed  at  the  Eclipse,  took  no  notice 
of  this.  .  .  . 

583 


And  though  it  be  said  that  poyson  will  break  a  Venice 
glass,  yet  have  we  not  met  with  any  of  that  nature.  .  .  . 

The  story  of  the  wandering  Jew  is  very  strange,  and 
will  hardly  obtain  belief.  .  .  . 

Unto  some  it  hath  seemed  incredible  what  Herodotus 
reporteth  of  the  great  Army  of  Xerxes,  that  drank  whole 
rivers  dry.  And  unto  the  Author  himself  it  appeared 
wondrous  strange.  .  .  . 

That  Annibal  eat  or  brake  through  the  Alps  with 
Vinegar,  may  be  too  grossly  taken.  .  .  . 

That  Archimedes  burnt  the  ships  of  Marcellus,  with 
speculums  of  parabolical  figures,  at  three  furlongs  .  .  . 
sounds  hard  unto  reason.  .  .  . 

SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE,  Pseudodoxia  Epidemica  (1646) 


LOUD  LIARS 

Many  have  held  opinion  that  Pliny  and  Aulus  Gellius  were 
loud  liars,  when  they  wrote  and  published,  that  there  lived 
a  certain  kinde  of  people  in  Scythia,  which  had  Dogs 
heads,  and  that  they  howled  like  dogs,  instead  of  speaking 
as  other  men  doe.  JOHN  BULWER 

Anthropometamorphosis,  or  the  Artificial  Changeling 

(1650) 

No  SUCH  THING 
I  feel  that  we  should  say  most  times  :  There  is  no  such 

thing.  MICHAEL  DE  MONTAIGNE,  Essays  (1580) 

Trans.  John  Florio  (1603) 
584 


AN  IGNORANT  FELLOW 

You  seem  sollicitous  about  that  pretty  thing  called  soul. 
I  do  protest  you  I  know  nothing  of  it,  not  whether  it  is, 
nor  what  it  is,  nor  what  it  shall  be.  Young  scholars  and 
priests  know  all  that  perfectly.  For  my  part  I  am  but  a 
very  ignorant  fellow.  F.  M.  A<  DE  VOLTAIRE 

Letter  to  James  Boswell  (Feb.  1765,  after  BosweWs 
visit  to  Ferney  and  in  reply  to  a  letter  continuing  their 
theological  controversy) 


SERMONS 


A  DEMOCRATIC  SERMON 

God  forgive  mee  I  was  as  neer  Laughing  Yesterday  where 
I  should  not :  would  you  beleeve  that  I  had  the  grace  to 
goe  heare  a  sermon  upon  a  week  day  . . .  and  Mr  Marshall 
was  the  man  that  preached,  but  never  any  body  was  soe 
defeated,  hee  is  soe  famed  that  I  expected  rare  things 
from  him  and  seriously  I  listned  to  him  at  first  with  as 
much  reverence  and  attention  as  if  hee  had  bin  St  Paul. 
And  what  doe  you  think  hee  told  us  ?  why  that  if  there 
were  no  kings  no  Queens  noe  Lord's  no  Lady's  noe 
Gentlemen  nor  Gentlewoman,  in  the  world,  twould 
bee  noe  losse  at  all  to  God  Almighty.  This  wee  had  over 
some  forty  times  which  made  mee  remember  it  whither 

585 


I  would  or  not,  the  rest  was  much  at  this  rate,  enterlarded 
with  the  prittyest  od  phrases  that  I  had  the  most  adoe 
to  look  soberly  enough  for  the  place  I  was  in  that  ever 
I  had  in  my  life ;  hee  do's  not  preach  soe  always  sure ; 
if  hee  do's  I  cannot  beleeve  his  Sermon's  will  doe  much 
toward's  the  bringing  any  body  to  heaven,  more  than  by 
Excercising  there  Patience.  Yet  Fie  say  that  for  him,  hee 
stood  stoutly  for  Tyth's,  though  in  my  opinion  few 
deserved  them  lesse  than  hee,  and  it  may  bee  hee  would 
bee  better  without  them. 

DOROTHY  OSBORNE,  Letter  to  Sir  William  Temple  (1653) 


PREACHING  TO  THE  JEWS 

A  sermon  was  preach'd  to  the  Jewes  at  Ponte  Sisto,  who 
are  constrain'd  to  it  till  the  houre  is  don  ;  but  it  is  with  so 
much  malice  in  their  countenances,  spitting,  hum'ing, 
coughing,  and  motion,  that  it  is  almost  impossible  they 
should  heare  a  word  from  the  preacher.  A  conversion  is 

very  rare. 

JOHN  EVELYN,  Diary  (Jan.  7,  1645) 


KEEPING  THE  DEAN  IN  ORDER 

Leave  that  alone  !  To  your  text,  Mr  Dean  !  To  your  text ! 
Leave  that.  We  have  heard  enough  of  that.  To  your 

Subject  !  QUEEN  ELIZABETH 

(To  the  Dean  of  St  Paul's  when  he  preached  against 

images  in  churches) 
586 


MR.  PEPYS  HEARS  SERMONS 

May  14.  1669. 

Most  of  the  company  gone,  and  I  going,  I  heard  by  a 
gentleman  of  a  sermon  that  was  to  be  there ;  [Lambeth 
Palace]  and  so  I  staid  to  hear  it,  thinking  it  serious,  till  by 
and  by  the  gentleman  told  me  it  was  a  mockery,  by  one 
Cornet  Bolton,  a  very  gentleman-like  man,  that  behind  a 
chair  did  pray  and  preach  like  a  Presbyter  Scot  that  ever  I 
heard  in  my  life,  with  all  the  possible  imitation  in  grimaces 
and  voice.  And  his  text  about  the  hanging  up  their  harps 
upon  the  willows ;  and  a  serious  good  sermon  too,  exclaim- 
ing against  Bishops,  and  crying  up  of  my  good  Lord  Eglin- 
ton,  till  it  made  us  all  burst ;  but  I  did  wonder  to  have 
the  [Arch]  Bishop  at  this  time  to  make  himself  sport 
with  things  of  this  kind,  but  I  perceive  it  was  shewn  him 
as  a  rarity ;  and  he  took  care  to  have  the  room  door  shut, 
but  there  was  about  twenty  gentlemen  there,  and  myself, 
infinitely  pleased  with  the  novelty. 

Nov.  16.  1661. 

So  to  church  again,  and  heard  a  simple  fellow  upon  the 
praise  of  Church  musique,  and  exclaiming  against  men's 
wearing  their  hats  on  in  the  church,  but  I  slept  part  of  the 
sermon,  till  latter  prayer  and  blessing  and  all  was  done 
without  waking  which  I  never  did  in  my  life. 

April  i.  ib. 

Staid  to  hear  a  sermon ;  but,  it  being  a  Presbyterian 
one,  it  was  so  long,  that  after  above  an  hour  of  it  we  went 
away,  and  I  home  and  dined. 

587 


Christmas  Day,  ib. 

Bishop  Morley  preached  upon  the  song  of  the  Angels 
. . .  Methought  he  made  but  a  poor  sermon,  but  long,  and 
reprehending  the  mistaken  jollity  of  the  Court  for  the 
true  joy  that  shall  and  ought  to  be  on  those  days,  he  par- 
ticularized concerning  their  excess  in  plays  and  gaming, 
.  .  .  Upon  which  it  was  worth  observing  how  far  they  are 
come  from  taking  the  reprehensions  of  a  bishopp  seriously, 
that  they  all  laugh  in  the  chappell  when  he  reflected  on 
their  ill  actions  and  courses.  He  did  much  press  us  to 
join  these  publique  days  of  joy,  and  to  hospitality.  But 
one  that  stood  by  whispered  in  my  ear  that  the  Bishopp 
himself  do  not  spend  one  groat  to  the  poor  himself. 

SAMUEL  PEPYS 
Diary 

REFRESHMENT 

At  the  2  bowers  sermons  at  St  Pauls  crosse  the  preacher 
to  refresh  him  and  continue  his  voyce  was  used  to  stoope 
down  in  the  pulpitt  and  drinck. 

SIR   THOMAS  BROWNE 

Miscellaneous  Writings  (undated) 


PREACHING  LIKE  AN  ANGEL 

His  Majestic  appointed  him  a  day  to  preach  to  him.  And 
though  his  Majestic  and  others  expected  much  from  him, 
yet  he  was  so  happy  (which  few  are)  as  to  satisfie  and 

588 


exceed  their  expectations  :  preaching  the  Word  so,  as 
shewed  he  was  possest  with  those  joyes  that  he  labored 
to  distill  into  others  :  A  Preacher  in  earnest,  weeping 
sometimes  for  his  Auditory,  some  with  them,  alwayes 
preaching  to  himselfe  like  an  Angel  from  a  cloud,  though 
in  none  :  carrying  some  (as  St.  Paul  was)  to  Heaven,  in 
holy  raptures ;  and  enticing  others,  by  a  sacred  art  and 
courtship,  to  amend  their  lives  ;  here  picturing  a  vice  so 
as  to  make  it  ugly  to  those  that  practised  it ;  and  a  vertue 
so,  as  to  make  it  beloved,  even  by  those  that  lov'd  it  not ; 
and  all  this  with  a  most  particular  grace,  and  an  un- 
imitable  fashion  of  speaking. 

IZAAK  WALTON 

The  Life  and  Death  of  Dr.  Donne 
(1640  and  1670  editions) 


A  GOOD  RIDDANCE 

I  have  liv'd  to  see  both  Greek  and  Latin  almost  entirely 
driven  out  of  the  Pulpit,  for  which  I  am  heartily  glad. 

JONATHAN  SWIFT 

Letter  to  a  Young  Gentleman  (1721) 


IF  I  WERE  A  CLERGYMAN 

Now  I  felt  that  if  I  composed  and  preached  sermons,  I 
should  by  no  means  compose  myself  to  the  Vicar's 
threadbare  subjects — should  preach  the  Wrath  of  God, 
and  sound  the  last  Trump  in  the  ears  of  my  Hell-doomed 

589 


congregation,  cracking  the  heavens  and  dissolving  the  world 
with  the  eclipses  and  earthquakes  of  the  great  Day  of 
Judgement.  Then  I  might  refresh  them  with  high  and 
incomprehensible  Doctrines,  beyond  the  reach  of  Reason 
— Predestination,  Election,  the  Co-existence  and  Co- 
eternities  of  the  incomprehensible  Triad.  And  with  what 
a  holy  vehemence  would  I  exclaim  and  cry  out  against  all 
forms  of  doctrinal  Error — all  the  execrable  hypotheses  of 
the  great  Heresiarchs  !  Then  there  would  be  many  ancient 
and  learned  and  out-of-the-way  Iniquities  to  denounce 
and  splendid,  neglected  Virtues  to  inculcate — Apostolic 
Poverty,  and  Virginity,  that  precious  jewel,  that  fair  gar- 
land, so  prized  in  Heaven,  but  so  rare,  it  is  said,  on  earth. 
For  in  the  range  of  creeds  and  morals  it  is  the  highest 
peaks  that  shine  for  me  with  a  certain  splendour :  it  is 
towards  those  radiant  Alps  that,  if  I  were  a  Clergyman, 
I  should  lead  my  flock  to  pasture. 

LOGAN  PEARSALL  SMITH 

Trivia  (1918) 


THE  SWEETEST  WORDS 

And  never  was  I  more  glad  after  a  long  sermon  on  a  cold 
day  to  come  to  those  dear  words — "  Now  to  God  the 
Father,"  and  "  The  Peace  of  God," — words  which  were 
for  so  many  years  the  sweetest  to  me  in  the  whole  Church 
service,  and  which  I  shall  love  as  long  as  I  live. 

ROBERT  SOUTHEY 

Letter  to  Captain  Southey,  R.N.  (1812) 


590 


SHOWING  OFF 


PARTRIDGE  FOR  DINNER 


The  Gentlemen  Criolians  or  natives  of  Chiapa  ...  as 
presumptuous  they  are  and  arrogant,  as  if  the  noblest 
bloud  in  the  Court  of  Madrid  ran  through  their  veines. 
It  is  a  common  thing  amongst  them  to  make  a  dinner  only 
with  a  dish  of  Frixoles  in  black  broath,  boyled  with  pepper 
and  garlicke,  saying  it  is  the  most  nourishing  meat  in  all 
the  India's ;  and  after  this  so  stately  a  dinner  they  will 
be  sure  to  come  out  to  the  street-dore  of  their  houses,  to 
see  and  to  be  seen,  and  there  for  halfe  an  houre  will  they 
stand  shaking  off  the  crums  of  bread  from  their  cloaths, 
bands,  (but  especially  from  their  ruffes  when  they  used 
them)  and  from  their  mustachoes.  And  with  their  tooth- 
pickers  they  will  stand  picking  their  teeth,  as  if  some 
small  Partridge  bone  stuck  in  them ;  nay  if  a  friend  passe 
by  at  that  time,  they  will  be  sure  to  find  out  some  cmm 
or  other  in  their  mustacho  (as  if  on  purpose  the  crums  of 
the  table  had  been  shaken  upon  their  beards  .  .  .)  and 
they  will  be  sure  to  vent  out  some  non-truth,  as  to  saya 
A  Senor  que  linds  perdiz  he  comido  oy,  O  Sir,  what  a  dainty 
Partridge  have  I  eat  to-day,  where  as  they  picke  out 

591 


nothing  from  their  teeth  but  a  black  husk  of  a  dry  frixole 
or  Turkey  bean. — 

THOMAS   GAGE 

The  English- American  ;  his  travail  by  sea  and  land  (1648) 


IT  SEEMED  TO  HIM 

Now  Sir  William  would  sometimes,  when  he  was  pleasant 
over  a  glasse  of  wine  with  his  most  intimate  friends — e.g. 
Sam.  Butler  (author  of  Hudibras)  etc. — say,  that  it 
seemed  to  him  that  he  writt  with  the  very  spirit  of  Shakes- 
peare, and  seemd  contented  enough  to  be  thought  his 
son.  He  would  tell  them  the  story  as  above,  in  which 
way  his  mother  had  a  very  light  report. 

JOHN  AUBREY 

Brief  Lives  :  Sir  William  Davenant  (c.  1680) 


LUCULLUS 

He  was  a  vaine  man  in  his  ordinarie  service  at  his  borde, 
not  only  in  that  his  beddes  whereon  he  fedde,  were  cov- 
ered with  rich  carpettes  of  purple,  and  him  selfe  served 
in  gold  and  silver  vessell  set  with  pretious  stones,  and  that 
there  was  dauncing,  musicke,  playes,  and  other  such  like 
pastimes  of  ordinary  :  but  also  for  that  he  was  continually 
served  with  all  sortes  of  fine  dainty  dishes,  with  workes  of 
pastry,  bancketing  dishes,  and  frute  curiously  wrought 
and  prepared,  which  only  made  him  to  be  wonderd  at  of 
men  of  simple  understanding  and  mean  condicion.  .  .  . 

592 


In  such  thinges  therefore  did  Lucullus  lavishly  and 
riotously  spend  his  goods,  like  spoyles  in  dede  gotten  of 
slaves  and  barbarous  peple. 

PLUTARCH 

Lives  (c.  100) 
Trans.  Sir  Thomas  North  (1579) 


A  FIRE-EATING  CAPTAIN 

SIR  JOSEPH  WITOLL  :  By  the  Lord  Harry,  Mr  Sharper, 
he's  a  brave  a  Fellow  as  Cannibal,  are  not  you,  Bully- 
Back? 

SHARPER  :  Hannibal  I  believe  you  mean,  Sir  Joseph. 
CAPTAIN  BLUFFE  :  Undoubtedly  he  did.  Sir ;  faith 
Hannibal  was  a  very  pretty  Fellow — but  Sir  Joseph, 
Comparisons  are  odious — Hannibal  was  a  very  pretty 
Fellow  in  those  Days,  it  must  be  granted — but  alas  Sir  ! 
were  he  alive  now,  he  would  be  nothing,  nothing  in  the 
Earth. 

SHARPER  :  How  Sir  !  I  make  a  doubt,  if  there  be  at  this 
Day  a  greater  General  breathing. 

BLUFFE  :  Oh  excuse  me,  Sir  ;  have  you  serv'd  abroad,  Sir  ? 
SHARP.  :  Not  I  really,  Sir. 

BL.  :  Oh  I  thought  so — Why  then  you  can  know  nothing, 
Sir  :  I  am  afraid  you  scarce  know  the  History  of  the  late 
War  in  Flanders,  with  all  its  particulars. 
SH.  :  Not  I,  Sir,  no  more  than  publick  Letters,  or  Gazettes 
tell  us. 

BL.  :  Gazette  !  Why  there  agin  now — Why,  Sir,  there 
are  not  three  Words  of  Truth,  the  Year  round,  put  into 
the  Gazette — Fll  tell  you  a  strange  thing  now  as  to  that — 

593 


You  must  know,  Sir,  I  was  resident  in  Flanders  the  last 
Campaign,  had  a  small  Post  there ;  but  no  matter  for 
that — Perhaps,  Sir,  there  was  scarce  any  thing  of  moment 
done  but  an  humble  Servant  of  yours,  that  shall  be 
nameless,  was  an  Eye  Witness  of — I  won't  say  had  the 
greatest  share  in't.  Tho'  I  might  say  that  too,  since  I  name 
no  Body  you  know — Well,  Mr  Sharper,  would  you  think 
it  ?  In  all  this  time — as  I  hope  for  a  Truncheon — this 
rascally  Gazette-writer  never  so  much  once  mention'd 
me — Not  once  by  the  Wars — Took  no  more  notice,  than 
as  if  Nol.  Bluffe  had  not  been  in  the  Land  of  the  Living. 
SH.  :  Strange  ! 

SIR  Jo.  :  Yet  by  the  Lord  Harry  'tis  true  Mr  Sharper,  for 
I  went  every  Day  to  Coffee-Houses  to  read  the  Gazette 
my  self. 

BL.  :  Ay,  ay,  no  matter — You  see,  Mr  Sharper  after  all  I 
am  content  to  retire — Live  a  private  Person — Scipio  and 

others  have  done  it 

SIR  J. :  Ay,  this  damned  Modesty  of  yours — Agad  if  he 
would  put  in  for't  he  might  be  made  General  himself  yet. 
BL.  :  Oh  fie,  no  Sir  Joseph — You  know  I  hate  this. 
SIR  J. :  Let  me  but  tell  Mr  Sharper  a  little,  how  you  eat 
Fire  once  out  of  the  Mouth  of  a  Cannon — agad  he  did  ; 
those  impenetrable  Whiskers  of  his  have  confronted 

Flames 

BL.  :  Death,  what  do  you  mean,  Sir  Joseph  ? 

SIR  J. :  Look  you  know,  I  tell  you  he's  so  modest  he'll  own 

nothing. 

BL.  :  Pish  you  have  put  me  out,  I  have  forgot  what  I  was 

about.  Pray  hold  your  Tongue  and  give  me  leave. 

WILLIAM  CONGREVE 

The  Old  Batchelor  (1693) 
594 


SWIMMING  THE  HELLESPONT 

This  morning  I  swam  from  Sestos  to  Abydos.  .  .  .  The 
current  renders  it  hazardous  ; — so  much  so  that  I  doubt 
whether  Leander's  conjugal  affection  must  not  have  been 
a  little  chilled  in  his  passage  to  Paradise  I  ...  crossed 
the  "  broad  Hellespont "  in  about  an  hour  and  ten  minutes. 

LORD   BYRON 

Letter  to  Henry  Drury  (1810) 


THE  FROTH  OF  OSTENTATION 

All  his  humor  rises  up  into  the  froth  of  ostentation  ; 
which  if  it  once  settle,  falles  downe  into  a  narrow  roome. 
If  the  excesse  be  in  the  understanding  part,  all  his  wit  is 
in  print ;  the  Presse  hath  left  his  head  emptie ;  yea,  not 
only  what  he  had,  but  what  he  could  borrow  without 
leave.  If  his  glorie  be  in  his  devotion,  he  gives  not  an 
Almes  but  on  record  ;  and  if  he  have  once  done  well,  God 
heares  of  it  often ;  for  upon  every  unkindnesse  hee  is 
readie  to  upbraid  him  with  his  merits.  .  .  .  Or,  if  a  more 
gallant  humour  possesse  him,  hee  weares  all  his  land  on 
his  backe,  and  walking  high,  looks  over  his  left  shoulder, 
to  see  if  the  point  of  his  rapier  follow  him  with  a  grace. 
Hee  is  proud  of  another  mans  horse ;  and  wel  mounted, 
thinks  every  man  wrongs  him,  that  looks  not  at  him.  A 
bare  head  in  the  street  doth  him  more  good  than  a  meales 
meat.  Hee  sweares  bigge  at  an  Ordinarie,  and  talkes  of 
the  Court  with  a  sharpe  accent ;  neither  vouchsafes  to 
name  anie  not  honourable,  nor  those  without  some  terme 

595 


of  familiaritie,  and  likes  well  to  see  the  hearer  looke  upon 
him  amazedly ;  as  if  he  sayd,  How  happie  is  this  man  that 
is  so  great  with  great  ones  !  Under  pretence  of  seeking 
for  a  scroll  of  newes,  hee  drawes  out  an  handfull  of  letters, 
indorsed  with  his  owne  stile,  to  the  height ;  and  halfe 
reading  every  title,  passes  over  the  latter  part,  with  a 
murmur;  not  without  signifying,  what  Lord  sent  this, 
what  great  Ladie  the  other ;  and  for  what  sutes  :  the  last 
paper  (as  it  happens)  is  his  newes  from  his  honourable 
friend  in  the  French  Court.  In  the  midst  of  dinner,  his 
Lacquay  comes  sweating  in,  with  a  sealed  note  from  his 
creditour,  who  now  threatens  a  speedie  arrest,  and 
whispers  the  ill  newes  in  his  Masters  eare,  when  hee  aloud 
names  a  Counsellor  of  State,  and  prefesses  to  know  the 
imployment.  The  same  messenger  hee  calles  with  an 
imperious  nod,  and  after  expostulation,  where  he  hath  left 
his  fellowes,  in  his  eare  sends  him  for  some  new  spur- 
leathers  or  stockings,  by  this  time  footed,  and  when  he 
is  gone  halfe  the  roome,  recalles  him,  and  sayth  aloud, 
//  is  no  matter,  let  the  greater  bagge  alone  till  I  come  ;  and 
yet  againe  calling  him  closer,  whispers  (so  that  all  the 
table  may  hear)  that  if  his  crimson  sute  be  readie  against  the 
day,  the  rest  need  no  haste.  He  picks  his  teeth  when  his 
stomacke  is  emptie,  and  calles  for  Pheasants  at  a  common 
Inne.  You  shall  find  him  prizing  the  richest  jewels,  and 
fairest  horses,  when  his  purse  yeelds  not  money  enough 
for  earnest.  He  thrusts  himselfe  into  the  prease  before 
some  great  Ladies ;  and  loves  to  be  scene  neere  the  head 
of  a  great  traine.  His  talke  is  how  many  Mourners  hee 
furnish't  with  gownes  at  his  fathers  funerals,  how  many 
messes  ;  how  rich  his  coat  is,  and  how  ancient,  how  great 
his  alliance :  what  challenges  hee  hath  made  and 
answered  ;  what  exploits  at  Cales  or  Nieuport :  and  when 

596 


hee  hath  commended  others  buildings,  furnitures,  sutes, 
compares  them  with  his  owne.  When  hee  hath  undertaken 
to  be  the  Broker  for  some  rich  Diamond,  he  weares  it, 
and  pulling  off  his  glove  to  stroke  up  his  haire,  thinks  no 
eye  should  have  any  other  object.  Entertaining  his  friend, 
he  chides  his  Cooke  for  no  better  cheere,  and  names  the 
dishes  he  meant,  and  wants.  To  conclude,  hee  is  ever  on 
the  stage,  and  acts  still  a  glorious  part  abroad.  ...  He  is  a 
Spanish  souldier  on  an  Italian  Theater ;  a  bladder  full  of 
winde,  a  skin  full  of  words ;  a  fooles  wonder,  and  a  wise 
mans  foole. 

JOSEPH   HALL 

Characters  of  Vertues  and  Vices  (1608) 


THAT  WAY  MADNESS  LIES 


If  we  consult  the  Collegiates  of  Moorfields,  we  shall  find 
most  of  them  are  beholden  to  their  Pride  for  their  intro- 
duction into  that  magnificent  Palace.  I  had  some  Years  ago 
the  Curiosity  to  enquire  into  the  particular  circumstances 
of  these  whimsical  Freeholders,  and  learned  from  their 
own  Mouths  the  Conditions  and  Character  of  each  of 
them.  Indeed,  I  found  that  all  I  spoke  to  were  Persons  of 
Quality.  There  were  at  that  time  five  Duchesses,  three 
Earls,  two  Heathen  Gods,  an  Emperor,  and  a  Prophet. 
There  were  also  a  great  Number  of  such  as  were  locked 
up  from  their  Estates,  and  others  who  concealed  their 
Titles.  A  Leather-seller  of  Taunton  whisper 'd  me  in  the 
Ear,  That  he  was  the  Duke  of  Monmouth ;  but  begged 
me  not  to  betray  him.  At  a  little  distance  from  him  sat  a 

597 


Taylor's  Wife, ...  I  presumed  to  ask  her,  Who  she  was  ? 
And  was  answered,  My  Lady  Mayoress.  .  .  . 

I  was  resolved  to  guard  myself  against  a  Passion  which 
makes  such  Havock  in  the  Brain,  and  produces  so  much 
Disorder  in  the  Imagination.  For  this  Reason  I  have 
endeavoured  to  keep  down  the  secret  Swellings  of 
Resentment,  and  stifle  the  very  first  Suggestions  of  Self- 
Esteem. 

RICHARD  STEELE 
Lucubrations  of  Isaac  Bicker  staff.    Tatler  No.  127 

(1709) 


TARTARIN  GOES  LION-HUNTING 

Suddenly,  towards  ten  o'clock,  there  was  a  great  move- 
ment in  the  crowd.  The  garden  gate  turned  violently  on 
its  hinges. 

"  It's  he  !  It's  he  !  "  people  cried. 

It  was  he. 

When  he  appeared  on  the  threshold,  two  cries  of 
astonishment  went  up  from  the  crowd. 

"  He's  a  Turk  !  " 

"  He's  got  spectacles  !  " 

Tartarin  of  Tarascon,  in  fact,  had  conceived  it  to  be  his 
duty,  since  he  was  going  to  Algeria,  to  assume  Algerian 
costume.  Large  puffed  trousers  of  white  linen,  small  tight 
jacket  with  metal  buttons,  two  feet  of  red  sash  round  the 
stomach,  the  neck  bare,  the  face  shaved,  on  the  head  a 
huge  red  fez,  and  a  blue  streamer  of  immense  length  ! 
With  this,  two  heavy  guns,  one  on  each  shoulder,  a  great 
hunting-knife  in  the  sash,  a  cartridge  pouch  on  the 

598 


stomach,  a  revolver  balancing  in  a  leather  pocket  on  the 
hip. That  was  all. ... 

Ah,  pardon  me,  I  forgot  the  spectacles ;  an  enormous 
pair  of  blue  goggles  which  came  in  very  aptly  to  correct 
anything  that  might  be  a  little  too  fierce  in  our  hero's 
get-up. 

"  Long  live  Tartarin  !  Long  live  Tartarin  !  "  shouted 
the  people.  The  great  man  smiled,  but  did  not  bow, 
because  of  the  guns  which  hindered  him.  For  the  rest, 
he  knew  now  how  to  keep  popular  favour  ;  possibly  in  the 
depths  of  his  soul  he  cursed  his  dreadful  countrymen  who 
were  forcing  him  to  depart,  to  leave  his  pretty  little  home, 
with  its  white  walls  and  its  green  shutters.  .  .  .  But  of 
this  one  saw  nothing. 

Calm  and  proud,  though  rather  pale,  he  walked  along 
the  street  .  .  .  and  briskly  took  the  road  to  the  railway 
station. 

ALPHONSE   DAUDET 

Tartarin  de  Tarascon  (18721 


A  SCHOLAR-MOUNTEBANK 

He  is  indeed  a  kind  of  Schollar-Mountebank  .  .  .  trickt  out 
in  all  the  accoutrements  of  Learning,  ...  he  heares  you 
not  till  the  third  knocke,  and  then  comes  out  very  angry, 
as  interrupted.  You  find  him  in  his  Slippers,  and  a  Pen  in 
his  eare.  .  .  .  His  Table  is  spred  wide  with  some  Classicke 
Folio,  which  is  as  constant  to  it  as  the  carpet,  and  hath 
laid  open  in  the  same  Page  this  halfe  yeere.  .  .  .  His  pocket 
is  seldome  without  a  Greeke  Testament,  or  Hebrew 
Bible,  which  hee  opens  only  in  the  Church,  and  that  when 

599 


some  stander  by  lookes  over.  He  has  his  sentences  for 
Company,  some  scatterings  of  Seneca  and  Tacitus,  which 
are  good  upon  all  occasions.  If  he  reads  any  thing  in  the 
morning,  it  comes  up  all  at  dinner ;  and  as  long  as  that 
lasts,  the  discourse  is  his.  Hee  is  a  great  Plagiarie  of 
Taverne-wit,  and  comes  to  sermons  onely  that  hee  may 
talke  of  Austin.  ...  He  talkes  much  of  Scaliger  and 
Casaubone,  and  the  Jesuites,  and  prefers  some  unheard- 
of  Dutch  name  before  them  all.  He  has  verses  to  bring  in 
upon  these  and  these  hints,  and  it  shall  goe  hard  but  he 
will  wind  in  his  opportunity. 

JOHN  EARLE 

Micro-cosmographie  (1628) 


SHOWS 


WHAT  So  PLEASANT 

What  so  pleasant  as  to  see  some  Pageant  or  Sight  goe  by, 
as  at  Coronations,  Weddings,  and  such  like  Solemnities, 
to  see  an  Embassadour  or  a  Prince  met,  received,  enter- 
tained, with  Masks,  Shewes,  Fireworks,  &c. ...  To  behold 
a  battle  fought,  like  that  of  Cressy,  or  Agincourt.  ...  To 
see  one  of  Caesar's  triumphs  in  old  Rome  revived,  or  the 
like.  ...  So  infinitely  pleasant  are  such  Shewes,  to  the 
sight  of  which  often  times  they  will  come  hundreds  of 
miles,  give  any  money  for  a  place,  and  remember  many 

600 


yeares  after  with  singular  delight.  Bodine,  when  he  was 
Embassador  in  England,  said  he  saw  the  Noblemen  go  in 
their  Robes  to  the  Parliament  House  ...  he  was  much 
affected  with  the  sight  of  it.  Pomponius  Columna  .  .  .  saw 
13  Frenchmen  and  so  many  Italians  once  fight  for  a  whole 
Army :  .  .  .  the  pleasantest  sight  that  ever  he  saw  in  his 
life.  Who  would  not  have  been  affected  with  such  a 
Spectacle  ?  .  .  .  The  very  reading  of  Feasts,  Triumphs, 
Interviews,  Nuptialls,  Tilts,  Turnaments,  Combats,  and 
Monomaches,  is  most  acceptable  and  pleasant. 

ROBERT  BURTON 
The  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  (1621.  Edition  1632) 


MONEY'S  WORTH 

To  see  a  strange  out-landish  Fowle, 

A  quaint  Baboon,  an  Ape,  an  Owle, 

A  dancing  Beare,  a  Gyants  bone, 

A  foolish  Ingin  move  alone, 

A  Morris-dance,  a  Puppit-play. 

Mad  Tom  to  sing  a  Roundelay, 

A  Woman  dancing  on  a  Rope, 

Bull-baiting  also  at  the  Hope ; 

A  Rimers  Jests,  a  Juglers  cheats, 

A  Tumbler  showing  cunning  feats, 

Or  Players  acting  on  the  Stage — 

There  goes  the  bounty  of  our  Age  : 
But  unto  any  pious  motion, 
There's  little  coine  and  lesse  devotion. 

HENRY  FARLEY 
(1621) 

601 


SHOPPING 


THE  PEDLAR 


i. 

Who  is  it  will  repaire, 
or  come  and  see  my  packet : 

Where  there's  store  of  Ware, 
if  any  of  you  lacke  it, 

view  the  Fay  re. 

2. 
Faire  Maydens  come  and  see, 

If  heere  be  ought  will  please  you  : 
And  if  we  can  agree, 

lie  give  you  just  your  due, 
Or  nere  trust  me. 

5- 
Farre-fetcht  Indian  ware, 

and  China  hard  to  enter  : 
Which  to  get  is  rare, 

costs  many  lives  to  venter, 
we  nere  care. 

602 


6. 
From  Venice  Citie  comes 

great  store  of  rare  Complection, 
From  western  lies  your  Gummes 

to  keep  Teeth  from  infection, 
and  from  Rhewmes. 

7- 
Heere  is  a  water  rare, 

will  make  a  wench  that's  fiftie, 
For  to  look  more  fayre 

then  one  that  wants  of  twenty, 
stil'd  from  the  Ayre. 

8. 
A  Perriwig  to  weare, 

or  Cover  for  bare  places  : 
If  you  have  lost  your  heare, 

full  many  one  it  graces  : 
tis  not  deare. 

9- 
Heeres  Poking  stickes  of  steele, 

and  Christall  Looking  Glasses : 
Here  globes  that  round  will  wheele 

to  see  each  one  that  passes, 
Dildo  Dill. 

10. 
Pomado  for  your  Lips, 

to  make  them  soft  and  ruddy  : 
And  sweet  as  Cipres  chips, 

a  lustre  like  a  Ruby 
soone  it  gets, 

603 


II. 
Heres  Bracelets  for  your  arm 

of  Corall,  or  of  Amber  : 
A  Powder  that  will  Charme 

or  bring  one  to  your  Chamber, 
tis  no  harme. 


Rebatoes,  Tyres,  and  Rings, 
Sissers  and  a  Thimble  : 

And  many  pretty  thinges, 
to  keepe  your  fingers  nimble, 

weaving  stringes. 


Balles  of  Camphyre  made, 

to  keepe  your  face  from  pimples  : 
An  Unguent  that's  alayd, 

you  never  shall  have  wrinckles, 
if  a  Mayde. 

18. 
Spunges  for  your  face, 

or  Sope  that  came  from  Turkey  : 
Your  favour  it  will  grace, 

if  that  you  be  not  durty, 
in  no  place. 

19- 
Rich  imbroydered  Gloves, 

to  draw  upon  your  white  hand  : 
Or  to  give  your  Loves, 

a  Ruffe  or  falling  band, 
my  pretty  Doves. 
604 


22. 

Pinnes  both  white  and  red, 

of  all  sortes  and  all  sizes  : 
Plumbes  and  Ginger  bread, 

my  Wares  of  divers  prizes, 
Bookes  to  read. 

23. 

Venice  Glasses  fine, 

were  newly  made  in  London  : 
To  drinke  your  Beere  or  Wine, 

come  now  my  Pack's  undone, 
speake  betime. 

24. 
Lawne  and  Cambricke  pure. 

as  good  as  e're  was  worne  : 
Like  yron  it  will  dure, 

untill  that  it  be  torne, 
be  you  sure. 

25. 
Heer's  many  other  thinges, 

As  Jewes  trumps,  pipes,  and  Babies : 
St.  Martins  Beades  and  Ringes, 

and  other  toyes  for  Ladyes, 
knots  and  stringes. 

27. 

And  as  my  Ware  doth  prove, 
so  let  me  take  your  mony  : 
My  pretty  Turtle  Dove, 

that  sweeter  is  then  hony, 
which  is  Love  ;  ANON 

The  Pedler  opening  his  Pack  (c.  1620) 


Ax  THE  ROYAL  EXCHANGE  (FOR  TO  CHEAPEN) 

SHOP-GIRL  :  Madame,  what  doth  it  please  you  to  have  ? 
Would  ye  have  any  faire  linnen  cloath  ?  Mistris,  see  what 
I  have,  and  I  will  showe  you  the  fayrest  linnen  cloath  in 
London,  if  you  do  not  like  it,  you  may  leave  it,  you  shall 
bestowe  nothing  but  the  looking  on,  The  payne  shall  be 
ours  to  showe  them  you. 
LADY  :  Into  what  Shop  shall  we  goe  ? 
MASTER  Du  VAULT-L'AMOUR  :  Madame,  will  it  please  you 
to  enter  into  this  Shop  ?  .  .  . 
LADY  :  How  sell  you  the  Ell  of  this  Cambricke  ? 
SHOP-GIRL  :  I  knowe  you  have  so  good  Judgement  in 
linnen  cloath,  that  I  dare  not  showe  you  any  for  good, 
unlesse  it  were  so  :  there  needes  no  replye  to  such  a  Lady 
as  you  are,  you  may  say  your  pleasure,  the  Cambricke 
will  cost  you  twentie  shillings  the  Ell. 
LADY  :  Truly  it  lacketh  no  price  :  And  if  thinges  be  so 
much  worth  as  those  which  sell  them,  doe  make  them  to 
be  :  your  Cambricke  is  very  good,  for  you  holde  it  at  a 
good  price,  But  yet  I  will  not  give  so  much  tho. 
SHOP-GIRL  :  How  much  will  it  please  you  to  give  then 
Madame  ?  to  the  end  that  I  may  have  your  Custome  ? 
LADY  :  I  will  give  you  fifteene  shillings,  If  you  will  take 
my  money  make  shorte,  for  I  have  other  busines  then  to 
tarye  heere. 

SHOP-GIRL  :  Truely  Madame  I  would  be  verye  sorie  to 
denie  you  if  I  could  give  it  at  that  price,  but  in  truth 
I  cannot,  unles  I  should  lose  by  it. 
LADY  :  I  will  give  you  sixteen,  and  not  one  halfpeny  more. 
Mistris  Du  Pont-galliard,  is  it  not  enough  ? 
MISTRESSE  Du  PONT-GALLIARD  :  Me  thinketh  it  Madame 

606 


that  you  offer  too  much,  as  of  me,  I  would  not  give  so 
much. 

LADY  :  Let  us  goe  then  to  the  shop  on  the  other  side.  .  .  . 
SHOP-GIRL  :  Madame,  if  you  finde  any  better,  I  am  con- 
tent to  give  you  mine  for  nothing. 
LADY  :  Let  it  be  as  good  as  it  will,  yet  you  shall  not  have 
of  me  a  penye  more  for  it,  for  I  have  offred  too  much 
alreadie. 

SEMPSTER  :  Madame,  I  am  content  to  lose  in  it,  of  the 
price  that  I  sell  it  to  others,  in  hope  that  you  will  buye  of 
us  when  you  shall  have  need  :  how  many  Elles  will  it 
please  you  to  have  ? 

LADY  :  Halfe  a  dossen  Elles.  .  .  Make  good  measure. 
Master  Du  Vault-1'amour,  I  pray  you  to  buye  for 
me  yonder  wastcoate  that  I  see  in  that  other  shop,  for  if 
I  cheapen  it,  they  will  over  price  it  me  by  the  halfe,  As 
for  you,  they  knowe  you  have  better  skill  in  it.  Joly  pay 
for  this  cloath.  Now,  are  you  payed  and  contented  ? 
SEMPSTER  :  Yes  Madame,  I  most  humbly  thanke  you. 
Beleeve  me  you  have  bestowed  your  money  very  well, 
and  you  have  good  cheap.  Will  you  buye  no  shirts,  ruffes, 
Falling  bandes,  handkerchers,  night-coyfes,  Falles,  sockes, 
edged  lace,  Boote-hosen  wrought,  Or  any  other  thing  that 
we  have  ?  All  is  at  your  commaundement. 
LADY  :  Not  for  this  time  I  thanke  you,  farewell  my  she 
friend. 

SEMPSTER  :  Madame,  God  have  you  in  his  keeping. 
LADY  :  Page  goe  see  if  the  Coach  be  ready,  Runne  quickly. 
Coach-man  we  must  alight  in  Cheapside,  at  the  Mercers 
and  Gold-smiths. 

PIERRE  ERONDELL 

The  French  Garden  (1605) 
607 


BUYING  WINDS 

There  be  many  Witches  at  this  day  in  Lapland,  who  sell 
winds  to  Mariners  for  money. 

THOMAS  FULLER 

The  Profane  State  :  The  Witch  (1642) 


BUYING  MAIDENS 

In  every  village  once  in  each  year  it  was  done  as  follows  : — 
When  the  maidens  grew  to  the  age  for  marriage,  they  .  .  . 
brought  them  in  a  body  to  one  place,  and  round  them  stood 
a  company  of  men:  and  the  crier  caused  each  one  severally 
to  stand  up,  and  proceeded  to  sell  them,  first  the  most 
comely  of  all,  and  afterwards  .  .  .  the  most  comely  after  her. 
.  .  .  Now  all  the  wealthy  men  of  the  Babylonians  who  were 
ready  to  marry  vied  with  one  another  in  bidding  for  the 
most  beautiful  maidens ;  those  however  of  the  common 
sort  who  were  ready  to  marry  did  not  require  a  fine  form, 
but  they  would  accept  money  together  with  less  comely 
maidens. 

HERODOTUS 

History  (5th  cent.  B.C.) 
Trans.  G.  C.  Macaulay 


608 


THE  SINGLE  LIFE 


BETTER  STILL 

It  is  very  agreeable  to  beget  children,  but,  by  Hercules, 
it's  much  more  agreeable  still  to  be  free. 

PLAUTUS,  Miles  Gloriosus  (c.  225  B.C.) 

How  FREE,  How  HAPPY,  How  HEAVENLY 

"  Art  thou  young  ?  Then  match  not  yet ;  if  old,  match 
not  at  all."  .  .  .  And  therefore  .  .  .  still  make  answere  to 
thy  friends  that  importune  thee  to  marry,  adhuc  intern- 
pestivum,  'tis  yet  unseasonable,  and  ever  will  be. 

Consider  withall  how  free,  how  happy,  how  secure,  how 
heavenly,  in  respect,  a  single  man  is,  as  he  said  in  the 
Comoedie  ..."  that  which  all  my  neighbours  admire  and 
applaud  me  for,  account  so  great  an  happinesse,  I  never 
had  a  wife  " ;  consider  how  contentedly,  quietly,  neatly, 
plentifully,  sweetly,  and  how  merrily  he  lives  !  hee  hath  no 
man  to  care  for  but  himselfe,  none  to  please,  no  charge, 
none  to  controll  him,  is  tied  to  no  residence,  no  cure  to 
serve,  may  goe  and  come,  when,  whether,  live  where  he 
will,  his  owne  master,  and  doe  what  he  list  himselfe.  Con- 
sider the  excellency  of  Virgins ;  Virgo  coelum  meruit,  a 
virgin  merits  heaven,  marriage  replenished!  the  earth, 

UP  609 


but  virginity  Paradise ;  Elias,  Eliseus,  John  Baptist,  were 
batchelors  :  Virginity  is  a  pretious  Jewel,  a  faire  garland, 
a  never-fading  flowre,  for  why  was  Daphne  turned  to  a 
green  bay-tree,  but  to  shew  that  virginity  is  immortall  ? 
.  .  .  Virginity  is  a  fine  picture,  as  Bonaventure  calls  it,  a 
blessed  thing  in  itselfe,  and  if  you  will  believe  a  Papist, 
meritorious.  And  although  their  be  some  inconveniences, 
irksomenesse,  solitarinesse,  &c.  incident  to  such  persons, 
quae  aegro  assideat  et  curet  aegrotum,  fomentum  paret, 
embracing,  dalliance,  kissing,  colling,  &c,  those  furious 
motives  and  wanton  pleasures  a  new-married  life  most  part 
enjoyes ;  yet  they  are  but  toyes  in  respect,  easily  to  be 
endured,  if  conferred  to  those  frequent  encombrances 
of  marriage.  Solitarinesse  may  be  otherwise  avoided  with 
mirth,  musick,  good  company,  businesse,  imployment ; 
...  for  their  good  nights,  he  shall  have  good  dayes.  .  .  . 
Thinke  of  these  things,  conferre  both  lives,  and  consider 
last  of  all  these  commodious  prerogatives  a  Batchelor  hath, 
how  well  he  is  esteemed,  how  hartily  welcome  to  all  his 
friends.  .  .  .  But  if  thou  marry  once,  .  .  .  bethinke  thy 
selfe  what  a  slavery  it  is,  what  a  heavy  burden  thou  shalt 
undertake,  how  hard  a  taske  thou  art  tyed  to  ...  and  how 
continuate,  what  squalor  attends  it,  what  irksomenesse, 
what  charges  . . .  besides  a  Myriade  of  cares,  miseries,  and 
troubles. 
ROBERT  BURTON,  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  (Edition  1632) 


ROVING  ABOUT 

SIR  ABEL  HANDY  :  Where  will  you  go  ?  I'll  go  anywhere 
you  like — Will  you  go  to  Bath,  or  Brighton,  or  Peters- 
burgh,  or  Jerusalem,  or  Seringapatam  ?  all  the  same  to 

610 


me — we  single  fellows — we  rove  about — nobody  cares  for 
us — we  care  for  nobody. 

THOMAS  MORTON,  Speed  the  Plough  (1800) 

CELIBATE 

I  would  be  married,  but  I'de  have  no  Wife, 
I  would  be  married  to  a  single  Life. 

RICHARD  CRASHAW,  Delights  of  the  Muses  (1646) 

FREE  TO  MAKE  VISITS 

I  hope  in  a  few  days  to  be  at  leisure,  and  to  make  visits. 
Whither  I  shall  fly  is  matter  of  no  importance.  A  man 
unconnected  is  at  home  everywhere ;  unless  he  may  be 
said  to  be  at  home  nowhere. 

SAMUEL  JOHNSON,  Letter  to  Joseph  Simpson  (1759) 

WEDDINGS  IN  HEAVEN 

Because  the  blush  of  modesty,  and  youth  without  blemish 
were  your  inclination,  because  you  tasted  none  of  the 
pleasures  of  the  marriage  bed,  behold,  the  honours  of  the 
virgin  are  kept  for  you.  With  your  bright  head  chapleted 
by  a  glittering  crown,  and  bearing  the  delightful  shade  of  a 
branch  of  palm,  you  will  eternally  celebrate  immortal 
nuptials  ;  where  song  is,  and  the  lyre  rages,  mingled  with 
happy  dances,  and  festal  orgies  are  celebrated  with  the 
thyrsus  of  Sion.  JOHN  MILTON 

Epitaphium  Damonis  (1639)  (Translated) 
611 


A  NATURAL  SPINSTER 

I  am  attracted  to  perpetual  spinsterhood  not  by  prejudice, 
but  rather  by  natural  inclination. 

QUEEN  ELIZABETH 

(To  Ambassador  of  the  Duke  of  Wurtemberg) 


SLOTH 


A  SLOTHFUL  MAN 

He  loves  still  to  have  the  Sun  witnesse  of  his  rising ;  and 
lies  long  more  for  lothnesse  to  dresse  him,  then  will  he 
sleepe  :  and  after  some  streaking  and  yawning,  calles  for 
dinner,  unwashed  ;  which  having  digested  with  a  sleepe  in 
his  chaire,  he  walks  forth  to  the  bench  in  the  Market- 
place, and  looks  for  companions  ;  whomsoever  he  meets, 
he  stayes  with  idle  questions,  and  lingring  discourse  :  how 
the  daies  are  lengthened,  how  kindly  the  weather  is,  how 
false  the  clocke,  how  forward  the  Spring,  and  ends  ever 
with  What  shall  we  doe  ?  .  .  .  When  all  the  people  are  gone 
from  Church,  hee  is  left  sleeping  in  his  seat  alone.  .  .  . 
When  he  is  warned  on  a  Jurie,  hee  had  rather  pay  the 
mulct  than  appeare.  All  but  that  which  Nature  will  not 
permit,  he  doth  by  a  deputie.  ...  He  had  rather  freeze 
then  fetch  wood,  and  chuses  rather  to  steale  then  worke,  to 
begge  then  take  paines  to  steale,  and  in  many  things  to 

612 


want  then  begge.  Hee  is  so  loth  to  leave  his  neighbors  fire, 
that  he  is  faine  to  walke  home  in  the  darke  and  if  he  be  not 
lookt  to,  weares  out  the  night  in  the  chimney-corner. 

JOSEPH  HALL 

Characters  of  Vertues  and  Vices  (1608) 


A  SORT  OF  INDOLENCE 

Johnson  told  me  that  "  Taylor  was  a  very  sensible  acute 
man,  and  had  a  strong  mind  ;  that  he  had  great  activity  in 
some  respects,  and  yet  such  a  sort  of  indolence,  that  if  you 
should  put  a  pebble  upon  his  chimney-piece  you  would 
find  it  there,  in  the  same  state,  a  year  afterwards," 

JAMES  BOSWELL 
Life  of  Johnson  (1791) 


THE  TRUE  STATE  OF  MAN 

Hang  work ! 

I  wish  that  all  the  year  were  holiday ;  I  am  sure  that 
indolence, — indefeasible  indolence — is  the  true  state  of 
man,  and  business  the  invention  of  the  old  Teazer,  whose 
interference  doomed  Adam  to  an  apron  and  set  him  a- 
hoeing.  Pen  and  ink,  and  clerks  and  desks,  were  the  re- 
finements of  this  old  torturer  some  thousand  years  after, 
under  pretence  of  "  Commerce  allying  distant  shores, 
promoting  and  diffusing  knowledge,  good,"  etc.  etc. 

CHARLES  LAMB 

Letter  to  William  Wordsworth  (1805) 
613 


SMOKING 


DELIGHTSOME  DRUNKENNESS 

This  herbe  is  called  Nicotiana  of  the  name  of  an  ambas- 
sadour  which  broght  the  first  knowledge  of  it  into  this 
realme.  .  .  . 

The  Spaniards  call  it  Tabaco.  Some  call  it  the  holy 
herbe,  because  (as  I  thinke)  of  his  holy  and  marvueilous 
effects.  .  .  .  Notwithstanding  it  were  better  to  call  it 
Nicotiana,  after  the  name  of  the  Lord  which  first  sent  it 
into  France,  to  the  end  that  we  may  give  him  the  honour 
which  he  hath  deserved  of  us,  for  having  furnished  our 
land  with  so  rare  and  singular  an  herbe.  .  .  . 

The  inhabitance  of  Florida  doe  feede  themselves  a 
certain  space  with  the  fume  of  this  herbe  (whatsoever  a 
certaine  new  Cosmographer  say  to  the  contrary,  who 
seeketh  by  his  lies  to  triumph  over  us  in  this  respect) 
which  they  take  at  the  mouth,  by  meanes  of  certaine  small 
homes. 

And  the  truth  hereof  we  gather  from  them  which  have 
beene  in  Florida,  and  by  mariners  comming  daily  from 
the  Indies,  which  hanging  about  their  neckes  little  pipes 
or  homes  made  of  the  leaves  of  the  date  tree,  or  of  reedes, 
or  of  rushes,  at  the  endes  of  which  little  homes  there  are 

614 


put  and  packt  many  drie  leaves  of  this  plant,  writhen  to- 
gether and  broken.  They  put  fire  to  this  end  of  the  pipe, 
receiving  and  drawing  in  with  their  breath  at  their  mouth 
wide  open,  so  much  of  this  fume  as  possibly  they  can, 
and  affirme  thereupon  that  they  finde  their  hunger  and 
thirst  satisfied,  their  strength  recovered,  their  spirites 
rejoyced,  and  their  braine  drencht  with  a  delightsome 
drunkennesse. 

CHARLES  ESTIENNE,  La  Maison  Rustique  (1572) 
Trans.  Richard  Surflet  (1600) 


AGAINST  PLAGUE 

I  have  been  told  that  in  the  last  great  plague  at  London 
none  that  kept  tobacconist's  shops  had  the  plague.  It  is 
certain,  that  smoaking  it  was  looked  upon  as  a  most 
excellent  preservative.  In  so  much  that  even  children 
were  obliged  to  smoak.  And  I  remember,  that  I  heard 
formerly  Tom  Rogers  .  .  .  say,  that  when  he  was,  when 
the  plague  raged,  a  school-boy  at  Eaton,  all  the  boys  of 
that  school  were  obliged  to  smoak  in  the  school  every 
morning,  and  that  he  was  never  whipped  so  much  in  his 
life  as  he  was  one  morning  for  not  smoaking. 

THOMAS  HEARNE,  Diary  (Jan.  21,  1721) 


AGAINST  EXECUTION 

He  tooke  a  pipe  of  tobacco  a  little  before  he  went  to  the 
scaffold,  which  some  formall  persons  were  scandalized 

615 


at/ but  I  thinke  'twas  well  and  properly  donne,  to  settle  his 
spirits. 
JOHN  AUBREY,  Brief  Lives  :  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  (c.  1680) 


THE  MAGIC  DRUG 

Here  could  I  tell  you  how  upon  the  seas 
Some  men  have  fasted  with  it  fortie  daies,  .  .  . 
How  a  dull  Cynick  by  the  force  of  it 
Hath  got  a  pleasing  gesture  and  good  wit  .  .  . 
How  many  Cowards  base  and  recreant 
By  one  pipes  draught  were  turned  valiant, 
And  after  in  an  artificiall  mist 
Have  overthrowne  their  foes  before  they  wist : 
How  one  that  dreamt  of  a  Tabacco  roll 
Though  sick  before,  was  straight  made  perfect 
whole. 

ANON.  The  Metamorphosis  of  Tabacco  (1602) 


A  GENTLEMAN-LIKE  SMELL 

Homer  of  Moly  and  Nepenthe  sings, 
Moly  the  Gods  most  soveraigne  Hearbe  divine, 
Nepenthe  Heavens  drinke  most  gladnesse  brings, 
Hearts  griefe  expels,  and  doth  the  wits  refine 
But  this  our  age  another  world  hath  found, 
From  whence  an  hearbe  of  Heavenly  power  is 

brought. 

Moly  is  not  so  soveraigne  for  a  wound, 
Nor  hath  Nepenthe  so  great  wonders  wrought. 
616 


It  is  Tobacco,  whose  sweet  substantiall  fume 

The  hellish  torment  of  the  teeth  doth  ease, 

By  drawing  downe,  and  drying  up  the  rewme, 

The  Mother  and  the  Nurse  of  each  disease. 

It  is  Tobacco  which  doth  colde  expell, 

And  cleares  the  obstructions  of  the  Arteries, 

And  surfets  threatning  Death  digesteth  well. 

Decocting  all  the  stomackes  crudities. 

It  is  Tobacco  which  hath  power  to  clarifie 

The  clowdie  mists  before  dim  eyes  appearing, 

It  is  Tobacco  which  hath  power  to  rarifie 

The  thick  grose  humour   which  doth  stop  the 

hearing. 

The  wasting  Hectique,  and  the  Quartain  Fever, 
Which  doth  of  Physique  make  a  mockerie, 
The  gowt  it  cures,  and  helps  ill  breaths  for  ever, 
Whether  the  cause  in  Teeth  or  stomacke  be. 
And  thoug  ill  breaths  were  by  it  but  confounded, 
Yet  that  Medicine  it  doth  Farre  excell, 
Which  by  sir  Thomas  Moore  hath  bin  propounded, 
For  this  is  thought  a  Gentleman-like  smell. 

SIR  JOHN  DAVIES,  Of  Tobbacco  (1586) 


A  LOATHSOME  CUSTOM 

For  Tobacco  being  a  common  herbe,  which  (though  under 
divers  names)  growes  almost  everywhere,  was  first  found 
out  by  some  of  the  barbarous  Indians,  to  be  a  Preservative 
or  Antidot  against  the  Pockes,  a  filthy  disease,  whereunto 
these  barbarous  people  are  (as  all  men  know)  very  much 
subject.  .  .  .  And  now,  good  Countrey  men  let  us  (I  pray 


you)  consider  what  honour  or  politic  can  moove  us  to  imi- 
tate the  barbarous  and  beastly  manners  of  the  wilde,  god- 
lesse  and  slavish  Indians,  especially  in  so  vile  and  stinkinge 
a  custom  ?  Shall  wee  that  disdaine  to  imitate  the  maners 
of  our  neighbour  France  .  .  .  and  that  cannot  endure  the 
spirit  of  the  Spaniards  .  .  .  shall  we,  I  say,  without  blush- 
ing abase  our  selves  so  farre,  as  to  imitate  these  beastly 
Indians,  slaves  to  the  Spaniards  refuse  to  the  world,  and  as 
yet  aliens  to  the  holy  Covenant  of  God  ?  Why  doe  we 
not  as  well  imitate  them  in  walking  naked  as  they  do  ?  in 
preferring  glasses,  feathers,  and  such  toyes,  to  golde  and 
precious  stones,  as  they  do  ?  yea,  why  do  we  not  dcnie 
God  and  adore  the  Devill,  as  they  doe  ?  .  .  . 

Is  it  not  both  great  vanitie  and  uncleannessee  that  at  the 
table,  a  place  of  respect,  of  cleanlinesse,  of  modestie,  men 
should  not  be  ashamed  to  sit  tossing  of  Tobacco  pipes, 
and  puffing  of  the  smoke  of  Tobacco  one  to  another,  making 
the  filthy  smoke  and  stinke  thereof  to  exhale  athwart  the 
dishes  and  infect  the  aire,  when,  very  often,  men  that 
abhor  it  are  at  their  repast  ?  .  .  .  And  is  it  not  a  great 
vanitie,  that  a  man  cannot  heartily  welcome  his  friend  now, 
straight  they  must  bee  in  hand  with  Tobacco  ?  .  .  .  He  but 
that  will  refuse  to  take  a  pipe  of  Tobacco  among  his  fcl- 
lowes,  (though  by  his  own  election  he  would  rather  fccle 
the  savour  of  a  Sinke)  is  accounted  peevish  and  no  good 
company,  even  as  they  doe  with  tippling  in  the  cold 
Eastern  Countries.  .  .  . 

A  custome  lothsome  to  the  eye,  hatefull  to  the  Nose, 
harmfull  to  the  braine,  dangerous  to  the  Lungs,  and  in 
the  blacke  stinking  fume  thereof,  neerest  resembling  the 
horrible  Stigian  smoke  of  the  pit  that  is  bottomlesse. 

KING  JAMES   I 

A  Counterblaste  to  Tobacco  (1604) 
618 


HELPFUL  THOUGHTS 

The  Indian  weede  withered  quite, 
Greene  at  noon,  cut  downe  at  night ; 
Shows  thy  decay,  all  flesh  is  hay  : 
Thus  thinke,  then  drinke,  Tobacco. 

The  Pipe  that  is  so  lilly-white, 
Shews  thee  to  be  a  mortall  Wight, 
And  even  such  gone  with  a  touch  : 
Thus  thinke,  then  drinke  Tobacco. 

And  when  the  Smoake  ascends  on  high, 
Thinke  thou  behold'st  the  Vanitie 
Of  worldly  stuffe,  gone  with  a  puffe  ; 
Thus  thinke,  then  drinke  Tobacco. 

And  when  the  Pipe  grows  foule  within, 
Think  on  the  Soule  defil'd  with  Sinne, 
And  then  the  Fire  it  doth  require  : 
Thus  thinke,  then  drinke  Tobacco. 

The  Ashes  that  are  left  behinde 
May  serve  to  put  thee  still  in  minde, 
That  unto  Dust  returne  thou  must : 
Thus  thinke,  then  drinke  Tobacco. 

THOMAS  JENNER,  The  Soule's  Solace  (1631) 


A  LIBEL 

And  as  one  said,  but  falsely,  the  bodies  of  such  English- 
men as  are  so  much  delighted  with  this  plant,  did  seeme 
to  degenerate  into  the  nature  of  the  Savages. 

WILLIAM  CAMDEN,  Annales  (trans.  1625) 
619 


GOOD  FOR  OLD  LADIES 


AN  EXHORTATORY  LETTER  TO  AN  OLD  LADY 
THAT  SMOAK'D  TOBACCO 

Madam, 

Tho'  the  ill-natur'd  world  censures  you  for  smoaking, 
yet  I  would  advise  you.  Madam,  not  to  part  with  so  inno- 
cent a  diversion  :  in  the  first  place,  it  is  healthful,  and  as 
Galen,  de  usu  partium,  rightly  observes,  is  a  sovereign 
remedy  for  the  tooth-ach,  the  constant  persecutor  of  Old 
Ladies.  Secondly,  tho'  it  be  a  heatthenish  weed,  it  is  a 
great  help  to  Christian  meditations  ;  which  is  the  reason, 
I  suppose,  that  recommends  it  to  your  parsons ;  the 
generality  of  whom  can  no  more  write  a  sermon  without 
a  pipe  in  their  mouth  than  a  Concordance  in  their  hands  : 
besides,  every  pipe  you  break  may  serve  to  put  you  in 
mind  of  Mortality,  and  shew  you  upon  what  slender  acci- 
dents man's  Life  depends.  I  know  a  Dissenting  Minister 
who  on  fast-days  used  to  mortify  upon  a  Rump  of  Beef, 
because  it  put  him,  as  he  said,  in  mind  that  all  flesh  was 
grass ;  but  I'm  sure  much  more  is  to  be  learnt  from  To- 
bacco :  it  may  instruct  you  that  riches,  beauty,  and  all  the 
glories  of  the  World  vanish  like  a  Vapour.  Thirdly,  it  is 
a  pretty  play-thing  :  a  pipe  is  the  same  to  an  old  woman 
that  a  gallant  is  to  a  young  one.  .  .  .  Fourthly  and  lastly, 
it  is  fashionable,  at  least  'tis  in  a  fair  way  of  becoming  so  ; 
cold  tea,  you  know,  has  been  a  long  while  in  reputation 
at  court,  and  the  gill  as  naturally  ushers  in  the  pipe  as  the 
forward-bearer  walks  before  the  Lord  Mayor. 

I  am  your  Ladyship's  humble  servant. 

TOM  BROWN 

Letter  to  an  Old  Lady  (c.  1690) 
620 


TENUES  FUGIT  CEU  FUMUS  IN  AURA  (VIRGIL) 

Little  Tube  of  mighty  Pow'r, 
Charmer  of  an  idle  Hour, 
Object  of  my  warm  Desire, 
Lip  of  wax  and  eye  of  fire  : 
And  they  snowy  taper  waist, 
With  my  finger  gently  brac'd  ; 
And  they  pretty  swelling  crest, 
With  my  little  Stoper  press'd, 
And  the  sweetest  bliss  of  blisses 
Breathing  from  thy  balmy  kisses. 
Happy  thrice  and  thrice  agen, 
Happiest  he  of  happy  men  ; 
Who  when  agen  the  night  returns, 
When  agen  the  Paper  burns  ; 
When  agen  the  cricket's  gay, 
(Little  cricket,  full  of  play) 
Can  afford  his  tube  to  feed 
With  the  fragrant  Indian  weed  ; 
Pleasure  for  a  nose  divine, 
Incense  of  the  God  of  Wine, 
Happy  thrice,  and  thrice  agen, 
Happiest  he  of  happy  men. 

ISAAC  HAWKINS  BROWNE,  A  Pipe  of  Tobacco  (1735) 


GOOD  FOR  EVERY  ONE 

Tabacco  that  excellent  plant,  the  use  thereof , . .  the  world 
cannot  want,  is  that  little  shop  of  Nature,  wherein  her 

621 


whole  workeman-ship  is  abridg'd,  where  you  may  see 
Earth  kindled  into  fire,  the  fire  breath  out  an  exhalation 
which  entring  in  at  the  mouth  walkes  through  the  Regions 
of  a  mans  brayne,  drives  out  all  ill  Vapours  but  itselfe 
drawes  downe  all  bad  Humours  by  the  mouth,  which  in 
time  might  breed  a  Scabbe  over  the  whole  body  if  already 
they  have  not ;  a  plant  of  singular  use,  for  on  the  one 
side ;  Nature  being  an  Enemie  to  Vacuitie  and  emptines, 
and  on  the  other,  there  beeing  so  many  empty  braynes 
in  the  World  as  there  are,  how  shall  Natures  course  be 
continued  ?  How  shall  these  empty  braines  be  filled,  but 
with  ayre,  Natures  immediate  instrument  to  that  pur- 
pose ?  If  with  ayre,  what  so  proper  as  your  fume  :  what 
fume  so  healthfull  as  your  perfume  ?  what  perfume  so 
soveraigne  as  Tabacco  ?  Besides  the  excellent  edge  it  gives 
a  mans  wit,  (as  they  can  best  judge  that  have  been  present 
at  a  feast  of  Tabacco  where  commonly  all  good  Witts  are 
conforted)  what  varietie  of  discourse  it  bcgctts  ?  What 
sparkes  of  wit  it  yeelds,  it  is  a  world  to  heare  :  as  likewise 
to  the  courage  of  a  man.  .  .  .  For  the  diseases  of  the  Court, 
they  are  out  of  the  Element  of  Garlick  to  medicine  ;  to 
conclude  as  there  is  no  enemy  to  Tabacco  but  Garlick, 
so  there  is  no  friend  to  Garlick  but  a  sheeps  head  and  so 
I  conclude. 

GEORGE   CHAPMAN 

Monsieur  D' Olive  (1606) 


MOST  DIVINE 

BOBADILLA  :  Signior  beleeve  me  ...  I  have  been  in  the 
Indies  (where  this  herbe  growes)  where  neither  myselfe, 

622 


nor  a  dozen  Gentlemen  more  (of  my  knowledge)  have 
received  the  taste  of  any  other  nutriment  in  the  world 
for  the  space  of  one  and  twentie  weekes,  but  Tabacco 
onely.  Therefore  it  cannot  be  but  'tis  most  divine.  Further 
...  it  makes  an  Antidote,  that  (had  you  taken  the  most 
deadly  poysonous  simple  in  all  Florence)  it  should  expell 
it,  and  clarifie  you,  with  as  much  ease  as  I  speak  ...  I 
professe  myselfe  no  quack-salver ;  only  thus  much  :  by 
Hercules  I  doe  holde  it,  and  will  affirme  it  (before  any 
Prince  in  Europe)  to  be  the  most  soveraigne  and  pretious 
herbe,  that  ever  the  earth  tendred  to  the  use  of  man. 


COB  :  By  gods  deynes  :  I  marie  what  pleasure  or  felicitie 
they  have  in  taking  this  rogish  Tabacco  :  it's  good  for 
nothing  but  to  choke  a  man,  and  fill  him  full  of  smoake 
and  imbers  :  there  were  foure  died  out  of  one  house  last 
weeke  with  taking  of  it,  and  two  more  the  bell  went  for 
yester-night,  one  of  them  (they  say)  will  ne're  scape  it,  he 
voyded  a  bushell  of  soote  yester-day,  upward  and  downe- 
ward.  .  .  .  Fid  have  it  present  death,  man  or  woman,  that 
should  but  deale  with  a  Tabacco  pipe  ;  why,  it  will  stifle 
them  all  in  th'  end  as  many  as  use  it ;  it's  little  better  than 
rats  bane. 

BEN  JONSON 
Every  Man  in  his  Humor  (1601) 


WHOLESOME 

The  Physicall  and  chirurgicall  uses  of  it  are  not  a  few ;  and 
being  teken  in  a  pipe  it  helpeth  aches  in  any  part  of  the 

623 


bodie  ;  being  good  also  for  the  kidneys  by  expelling  wind. 
But  beware  of  cold  after  it  ;  neither  take  it  wantonly,  nor 
immoderately  ...  for  we  see  that  the  use  is  too  frequently 
turned  into  an  abuse,  and  the  remedie  is  proved  a  disease  ; 
and  all  through  a  wanton  and  immoderate  use.  For  Omne 
nimium  vertitur  in  vitium. 


To  quaff  e,  roar,  swear  and  drinke  Tobacco 
Is  fit  for  such  as  pledge  sick  healths  in  hell  : 
Where  wanting  wine,  and  ale,  and  beer  to  drink, 
Their  cups  are  filled  with  smoke,  fire,  fume  and  stink. 

.  .  .  The  women  of  America  (as  Gerard  mentions  in  his 
Herball)  do  not  use  to  take  Tobacco,  because  they  perswade 
themselves  it  is  too  strong  for  the  constitution  of  their 
bodies  :  and  yet  some  women  of  England  use  it  often,  as 
well  as  men  ...  It  is  said  that  Sir  Francis  Drakes  mariners 
brought  the  first  of  this  herb  into  England  in  the  year 
1585,  which  was  in  the  28  yeare  of  Q,  Elizabeth. 

JOHN  SWAN 
Speculum  Mundi  (1635) 


A  CIGAR 

Sublime  tobacco  !  which  from  East  to  West 
Cheers  the  Tar's  labour  or  the  Turkman's  rest ; 
Which  on  the  Moslem's  ottoman  divides 
His  hours,  and  rivals  opium  and  his  brides  ; 
Magnificent  in  Stamboul,  but  less  grand, 
Though  not  less  loved,  in  Wapping  and  the  Strand 
Divine  in  hookahs,  glorious  in  a  pipe, 
When  tipp'd  with  amber,  mellow,  rich  and  ripe ; 
624 


Like  other  charmers,  wooing  the  caress, 
More  dazzlingly  when  daring  in  full  dress  ; 
Yet  they  true  lovers  more  admire  by  far 
Thy  naked  beauties — give  me  a  cigar  ! 

LORD  BYRON,  The  Island  (1823) 


PRESERVES  FROM  VACUITY 

"  Smoking  has  gone  out.  To  be  sure,  it  is  a  shocking  thing, 
blowing  smoke  out  of  our  mouths  into  other  people's 
mouths,  eyes  and  noses,  and  having  the  same  thing  done 
to  us.  Yet  I  cannot  account  why  a  thing  which  requires  so 
little  exertion,  and  yet  preserves  the  mind  from  total 
vacuity,  should  have  gone  out.  Every  man  has  something 
by  which  he  calms  himself:  beating  with  his  feet,  or  so." 
JAMES  BOSWELL,  Life  of  Johmon  (1791) 


SNACKS  BETWEEN  MEALS 


ROAST  PIG 

Of  the  Rev.  William  Collier,  B.D.  .  .  .  I  have  previously 
spoken,  as  having  taken  an  emigrant  Countess  under  his 
protection.  He  had  been  Tutor  of  the  college  [Trinity],  and 
was  for  nearly  twenty  years  Professor  of  Hebrew  ;  he  was 

625 


an  admirable  classic,  and  particularly  well  versed  in  modern 
languages  (at  that  time  a  very  rare  accomplishment  in  the 
University).  Collier  led  a  most  dissolute  life  ;  he  was  also 
a  notorious  gourmand.  An  anecdote  I  had  from  his  own 
mouth  will  prove  his  title  to  the  latter  character. 

"  When  I  was  last  in  town,"  said  he,  "  I  was  going  to 
dine  with  a  friend,  and  passed  through  a  small  court,  just 
as  a  lad  was  hanging  up  a  board  on  which  was  this  tempt- 
ing inscription — "  A  roast  pig  this  instant  set  upon  the 
table !  "  The  invitation  was  irresistible — I  ordered  a 
quarter;  it  was  very  delicate  and  very  delicious.  I  despatched 
a  second  and  a  third  portion,  but  was  constrained  to  leave 
one  quarter  behind,  as  my  dinner  hour  was  approaching, 
and  my  friend  was  remarkably  punctual."  (1798) 

HENRY  GUNNING 

Reminiscences  of  Cambridge  (1852) 


A  LOAF  BEFORE  DINNER 

A  very  working  head,  in  so  much  that,  walking  and  medi- 
tating before  dinner,  he  would  eate-up  a  penny  loafe,  not 
knowing  that  he  did  it. 

JOHN   AUBREY 

Brief  Lives  :  Thomas  Fuller  (c.  1680) 


OYSTERS 

From  thence  I  rowed  to  another  port,  called  by  the  nat- 
urals Piche,  and  by  the  Spaniardes  Tierra  de  Brea.  In  the 

626 


way  betweene  both  were  divers  little  brooks  of  fresh 
water,  and  one  salt  river  that  had  store  of  oisters  upon  the 
branches  of  the  trees,  and  were  very  salt  and  wel  tasted. 
Al  their  oisters  grow  upon  those  boughs  and  spraies,  and 
not  on  the  ground  :  the  like  is  commonlie  scene  in  the 
West  Indies  and  else  where. 

SIR   WALTER   RALEIGH 

The  Discoverie  of  Guiana  (1596) 


SALTS 

A  dose  of  salts  has  the  effect  of  a  temporary  inebriation, 
like  light  champagne,  on  me. 

LORD   BYRON 

Diary  (Jan.  6,  1821) 


GROG 

Read  Diodorus  Siculus — turned  over  Seneca  and  some 
other  books.  Wrote  some  more  of  the  tragedy.  Took  a  glass 
of  grog.  After  having  ridden  hard  in  rainy  weather,  and 
scribbled,  and  scribbled  again,  the  spirits  (at  least  mine) 
need  a  little  exhilaration,  and  I  don't  like  laudanum  now  as 
I  used  to  do.  So  I  have  mixed  a  glass  of  strong  waters  and 
single  waters,  which  I  shall  now  proceed  to  empty.  .  .  . 
The  effect  of  all  wines  and  spirits  upon  me  is,  however, 
strange.  It  settles,  but  it  makes  me  gloomy. 

Ibid. 

(Jan.  14,  1821) 
627 


SODA-WATER 

I  have  drank  as  many  as  fifteen  bottles  of  soda-water  in 
one  night,  after  going  to  bed,  and  been  still  thirsty — calcu- 
lating, however,  some  lost  from  the  bursting  out  and 
effervescence  and  overflowing  of  the  soda-water  in  drawing 
the  corks,  or  striking  off  the  necks  of  the  bottles  in  mere 
thirsty  impatience. 

Ibid.  (Feb.  2,  1821) 


SALTS 

How  do  you  manage  ?  I  think  you  told  me,  at  Venice, 
that  your  spirits  did  not  keep  up  without  a  little  claret.  I 
can  drink,  and  bear  a  good  deal  of  wine  (as  you  may  recollect 
in  England)  :  but  it  don't  exhilarate — it  makes  me  savage 
and  suspicious.  Laudanum  has  a  similar  effect ;  but  I  can 
take  much  of  it  without  any  effect  at  all.  The  thing  that 
gives  me  the  highest  spirits  (it  seems  absurd,  but  true)  is 
a  dose  of  salts — I  mean  in  the  afternoon,  after  their  effect. 
But  one  can't  take  them  like  champagne. 

Ibid.  Letter  to  Thomas  Moore  (1821) 


DRAMS 

The  solicitations  of  sense  are  always  at  hand,  and  a  dram  to 
a  vacant  and  solitary  person  is  a  speedy  and  seducing  relief. 

HESTHER  PIOZZI 

Anecdotes  of  Dr.  Johnson  (1786) 
628 


AT  IT  ALL  DAY 

A  dew-bite  and  breakfast,  a  stay-bite  and  dinner,  a  mum- 
met  and  a  crummet,  and  a  bite  after  supper. 

ANON.  A  Centenarian's  recipe  for  long  life 


WINE  EXTRAORDINARY 

A  good,  formall,  precise  Monister  in  the  Isle  of  Wight  us't 
to  say  that  a  glasse  or  two  of  wine  extraordinarie  would 
make  a  man  praise  God  with  much  alacritie. 

SIR  NICHOLAS   L'ESTRANGE 

Merry  Jests  and  Conceits  (1630-55) 


GRUEL 

MR.  WOODHOUSE  :  "  You  must  go  to  bed  early,  my  dear, 
and  I  recommend  a  little  gruel  to  you  before  you  go.  You 
and  I  will  have  a  nice  basin  of  gruel  together.  My  dear 
Emma,  suppose  we  all  have  a  little  gruel." 

Emma  could  not  suppose  any  such  thing,  knowing  as 
she  did  that  both  the  Mr  Knightleys  were  as  unpersuad- 
able on  that  article  as  herself,  and  two  basins  only  were 
ordered.  .  .  . 

The  gruel  came,  and  supplied  a  great  deal  to  be  said — 
much  praise  and  many  comments — undoubting  decision  of 
its  wholesomeness  for  every  constitution,  and  pretty  severe 
philippics  upon  the  many  houses  where  it  was  never  met 
with  tolerable.  JANE  AUSTEN>  Emma  (1816) 

629 


OR  A  OYSTER 

"  What  should  you  say  to  a  drop  o'  beer,  genTmen  ?  " 
suggested  the  mottle-faced  man.  .  .  . 

"  And  a  little  bit  o'  cold  beef,"  said  the  second  coach- 
man. 

"  Or  a  oyster/'  added  the  third,  who  was  a  hoarse 
gentleman,  supported  by  very  round  legs. 

"  Hear,  hear  !  "  said  Pell,  "  to  congratulate  Mr.  Weller 
on  his  coming  into  possession  of  his  property  :  eh  ?  ha 
ha  !  " 

"  Fm  quite  agreeable,  genTmen,"  answered  Mr 
Weller.  "  Sammy,  pull  the  bell."  .  .  . 

Where  everybody  took  so  active  a  part,  it  is  almost 
invidious  to  make  a  distinction  :  but  if  one  individual 
evinced  greater  prowess  than  another,  it  was  the  coach- 
man with  the  hoarse  voice,  who  took  an  imperial  pint  of 
vinegar  with  his  oysters,  without  betraying  the  least 

em0ti°n-  CHARLES   DICKENS 

Pickwick  Papers  (1836) 


TEA 

I  suppose  no  person  ever  enjoyed  with  more  relish  the 
infusion  of  that  fragrant  leaf  than  Johnson.  The  quantities 
which  he  drank  of  it  at  all  hours  were  so  great,  that  his 
nerves  must  have  been  uncommonly  strong  not  to  have 
been  extremely  relaxed  by  such  an  intemperate  use  of  it. 
He  assured  me,  that  he  never  felt  the  least  inconvenience 

fr°mit-  JAMES   BOSWELL 

Life  of  Johnson  (1791) 
630 


PEACHES 

Though  he  usually  eat  seven  or  eight  large  peaches  of  a 
morning  before  breakfast  began,  and  treated  them  with 
proportionate  attention  after  dinner  again,  yet  I  have 
heard  him  protest  that  he  never  had  quite  as  much  as  he 
wished  of  wall-fruit,  except  once  in  his  life,  and  that  was 
...  at  Ombersley,  the  seat  of  my  Lord  Sandys. 

HESTHER  Piozzi,  Anecdotes  of  Dr.  Johnson  (1786) 


TARTS,  CUSTARDS,  CHEESECAKES 

They  [the  Presbyterians  and  Independents]  would  also 
entertaine  each  other  in  their  chambers  with  edibles,  and 
somtimes  ...  at  a  cook's  house  that  had  a  back-way,  and 
be  very  merry  and  frolicsome.  Nay,  such  that  had  come 
from  Cambridg  and  had  gotten  fellowships  would  be  more 
free  of  entertainment  than  any,  and  instead  of  a  cup  of 
college  beare  and  stir'd  machet  which  use  to  be  the  antient 
way  of  entertaining  in  a  College  at  3  or  4  in  the  afternoon, 
they  would  entertaine  with  tarts,  custards,  chcescaks, 
or  any  other  junkets  that  were  in  season ;  and  that  fashion 
continued  among  the  generalitie  till  the  restauration. 

ANTHONY  WOOD,  Life  and  Times  (1659) 


ROLLS,  ALE,  AND  RHENISH  WINE 

About  every  3  houres  his  man  was  to  bring  him  a  roll  and 
a  pott  of  ale  to  refocillate  his  wasted  spirits.  So  he  studied 

631 


and  dranke,  and  munched  some  bread ;  and  this  main- 
tained him  till  night ;  and  then  he  made  a  good  supper. 
Now  he  did  well  not  to  dine,  which  breakes  of  one's 
fancy,  which  will  not  presently  be  regained :  and  'tis  with 
invention  as  a  flux — when  once  it  is  flowing,  it  runnes 
amaine  ;  if  it  is  checked,  flowes  but  guttim  :  and  the  like 
for  perspiration — check  it,  and  'tis  spoyled.  Goclenius, 

professor  at in  Germany,  did  better;  he  kept  bottles 

of  Rhenish  wine  in  his  studie,  and  when  his  spirits 
wasted,  dranke  a  good  rummer  of  it. 

JOHN  AUBREY 

Brief  Lives  :  William  Prynne  (1680) 


SORORAL 


AFTER  THE  PARTY 

A  girl  said  to  her  sister,  late,  when  their  friends  had  gone  : 
"  I  wish  there  were  no  men  on  earth,  but  we  alone. 

cc  The  beauty  of  your  body,  the  beauty  of  your  face — 
That  now  are  greedy  flames,  and  clasp  more  than  them- 
selves in  light, 

Pierce  awake  the  drowsing  air  and  boast  before  the  night — 
Then  should  be  of  less  account  than  a  dark  reed's  grace, 
All  Summer  growing  in  river  mists,  unknown — 
The  beauty  of  your  body,  the  beauty  of  my  own. 

632 


"  When  we  two  talk  together,  the  words  between  us  pass 
Across  long  fields,  across  drenched  upland  fields  of  grass. 
Like  words  of  men  who  signal  with  flags  in  clear  weather. 
When  we  two  are  together,  I  know  before  you  speak 
Your  answers,  by  your  head's  turn  and  shadows  on  your 

cheek — 
Running  of  wind  on  grass,  to  bring  out  thoughts  together. 

"  We  should  live  as  though  all  day  were  the  day's  first  hour, 
All  light  were  the  first  daylight,  that  whistles  from  so  far, 
That  still  the  blood  with  distance.  We  should  live  as 

though 
All  seasons  were  the  earliest  Spring,  when  only  birds  are 

mating, 
When  the  low,  crouched  bramble  remembers  still  the 

snow. 
And  woods  are  but  half  unchained  from  the  Winter's 

waiting. 

We  should  be  gay  together,  with  pleasures  primrose-cool, 
Scattered,  and  quick  as  Spring's  are,  by  thicket  and  chill 

pool. 

cc  Oh,  to-night,"  the  girl  said,  "  I  wish  that  I  could  sit 
All  my  life  here  with  you,  all  my  life  unlit. 
To-morrow  I  shall  love  again  the  Summer's  valour, 
Heavy  heat  of  noon,  and  the  night's  mysteries, 
And  love,  like  the  sun's  touch,  that  closes  up  my  eyes — 
To-morrow  :  but  to-night,"  she  said,  as  night  ran  on, 
"  I  wish  there  was  no  love  on  earth  but  ours  alone." 


E.  j.  SCOVELL 
A  Girl  to  her  Sister  (1932) 


633 


SMELLS 


AIR  OF  EDEN 

Now  purer  aire 

Meets  his  approach,  and  to  the  heart  inspires 
Vernal  delight  and  joy,  able  to  drive 
All  sadness  but  despair  :   now  gentle  gales 
Fanning  their  odoriferous  wings  dispense 
Native  perfumes,  and  whisper  whence  they  stole 
Those  balmie  spoiles.  As  when  to  them  who  sail 
Beyond  the  Cape  of  Hope,,  and  now  are  past 
Mozambic,  off  at  Sea  North-East  windes  blow 
Sabean  Odours  from  the  spicie  shoare 
Of  Arabie  the  blest,  with  such  delay 
Well  pleas'd  they  slack   thir   course,  and   many   a 

League 

Cheard  with  those  odorous  sweete  the  Fiend 
Who    came    thir    bane,    though    with    them    better 

pleas'd 

Then  Asmodeus  with  the  fishie  fume, 
That    drove    him,    though    enamoured,    from    the 

Spouse. 
Of  T obits  Son. 

JOHN   MILTON 

Paradise  Lost,  Book  IV  (1667) 
634 


AIR  OF  ITALY 

.  .  .  within  scent  of  those  fragrant  orchards  which  are  on 
this  coast,  full  of  princely  retirements  for  the  sumptuous- 
nesse  of  their  buildings,  and  noblenesse  of  their  planta- 
tions, especially  those  at  St  Pietro  d'Arena ;  from  whence, 
the  wind  blowing  as  it  did,  might  perfectly  be  smelt  the 
peculiar  joys  of  Italy  in  the  perfumes  of  orange,  citron, 
and  jassmine  flowers,  for  divers  leagues  seaward. 

JOHN  EVELYN,  Diary  (October  1644) 


AIR  OF  LONDON 

Sir,  I  prepare  in  this  short  Discourse  an  expedient  ...  to 
render  not  only  Your  Majesties  Palace,  but  the  whole  City 
likewise,  one  of  the  sweetest  and  most  delicious  Habita- 
tions in  the  World ;  ...  by  improving  those  Plantations 
which  Your  Majesty  so  laudably  affects  ...  as  upon  every 
gentle  emission  through  the  Aer,  should  so  perfume  the 
adjacent  places  with  their  breath ;  as  if,  by  a  certain 
charm,  or  innocent  Magick,  they  were  transferred  to  that 
part  of  Arabia,  which  is  therefore  styled  the  Happy,  be- 
cause it  is  amonst  the  Gums  and  precious  Spices.  Those 
who  take  notice  of  the  scent  of  the  Orange-flowers  from 
the  Rivage  of  Genoa,  and  St  Pietro  dell'  Arena ;  the  Bios- 
somes  of  the  Rosemary  from  the  Coasts  of  Spain  many 
Leagues  off  at  Sea ;  or  the  manifest  and  odoriferous  waft 
which  flow  from  Fontenay  and  Vaurigard,  even  to  Paris,  in 
the  season  of  Roses,  with  the  contrary  Effects  of  those  less 
pleasing  Smells  from  other  accidents,  will  easily  consent 
to  what  I  suggest :  And  I  am  able  to  enumerate  a  Catalogue 


of  native  Plants,  and  such  as  are  familiar  to  our  Country 
and  Clime,  whose  redolent  and  agreeable  Emissions  would 
even  ravish  our  senses,  as  well  as  perfectly  improve  and 
meliorate  the  Aer  about  London. . . .  Such  as  are  (for  in- 
stance amongst  many  others)  the  Sweet-brier,  all  the  Peri- 
clymenas  and  Woodbinds ;  the  Common  white  and  yellow 
Jessamine,  both  the  Syringas  or  Pipe  trees ;  the  Guelder- 
rose,  the  Musk,  and  all  other  Roses ',  Genista  Hispanica  : 
.  .  .  Bayes,  Jumpier  .  .  .  Lavender  :  but  above  all  Rosemary, 
the  Flowers  whereof  are  credibly  reported  to  give  their 
scent  above  thirty  Leagues  off  at  Sea,  upon  the  coasts  of 
Spain ;  and  at  some  distance  towards  the  Meadow  side, 
Vines,  yea  Hops.  .  .  .  For  there  is  a  very  sweet  smelling 
Sally,  and  the  blossoms  of  the  Lime-tree  are  incomparably 
fragrant ;  in  brief,  whatever  is  odoriferous  and  refreshing. 

JOHN  EVELYN 

Fumifugium  :  Or  the  Smoake  of  London  Dissipated  (1661) 


GARDEN  SMELLS 

And  because  the  Breath  of  Flowers  is  farre  Sweeter  in 
the  Aire  (where  it  comes  and  goes,  like  the  Warbling  of 
Musick)  then  in  the  hand,  therfore  nothing  is  more  fit 
for  that  delight  then  to  know  what  be  the  Flowers  and 
Plants  that  doe  best  perfume  the  Aire.  Roses  Damask  and 
Red  are  fast  Flowers  of  their  Smels  ;  So  that  you  may 
walke  by  a  whole  Row  of  them,  and  finde  Nothing  of  their 
Sweetnesse ;  Yea  though  it  be  in  a  Mornings  Dew.  Bayes 
likewise  yeeld  no  Smell  as  they  grow.  Rosemary  little ; 
Nor  Sweet-Marjoram.  That,  which  above  all  Other 
yeelds  the  Sweetest  Smell  in  the  Aire,  is  the  Violet  .  .  . 

636 


Next  to  that  is  the  Muske-Rose.  Then  the  Strawberry- 
Leaves  dying,  which  yeeld  a  most  Excellent  Cordiall 
Smell.  Then  the  Flower  of  the  Vines ;  It  is  a  little  dust, 
like  the  dust  of  a  Bent,  which  growes  upon  the  Cluster, 
in  the  First  comming  forth.  Then  Sweet-Briar.  Then  Wall- 
Flowers,  which  are  very  Delightfull,  to  be  set  under  a 
Parler,  or  Lower  Chamber  Window  .  . .  Then  the  Flowers 
of  the  Lime-Tree.  Then  the  Hony-suckles,  so  they  be 
somewhat  a  farre  off.  .  .  .  But  those  which  Perfume  the 
Aire  most  delightfully,  not  passed  by  as  the  rest,  but  being 
Troden  upon  and  Crushed,  are  Three  :  That  is  Burnet, 
Wilde-Time,  and  Water-Mints.  Therefore,  you  are  to  set 
whole  Allies  of  them,  to  have  the  Pleasure  when  you  walk 
or  Tread.  .  .  . 

FRANCIS  BACON,  Essays.  Of  Gardens  (1625) 


SMELLING  ONE'S  DINNER 

I  was  saying  to  a  friend  .  .  .  that  I  did  not  like  goose  ;  one 
smells  it  so  while  it  is  roasting,  said  I.  "  But  you,  Madam," 
(replies  the  Doctor)  "  have  been  at  all  times  a  fortunate 
woman,  having  always  had  your  hunger  so  forestalled  by 
indulgence,  that  you  never  experienced  the  delight  of 
smelling  your  dinner  beforehand." 

HESTHER  Piozzi,  Anecdotes  of  Dr  Johnson  (1786) 


SMELLS  THAT  ALLURE  SPIRITS 

Good  Spirits  are  delighted  and  allured  by  sweet  Per- 
fumes, as  rich  Gums,  Frankincense,  Salt,  &c.  which  was 

637 


the  reason  that  the  Priests  of  the  Gentiles,  and  also  the 
Christians,  used  them  in  their  Temples,  and  Sacrifices  : 
and  on  the  contrary,  Evil  Spirits  are  pleased  and  allured 
and  called  up  by  Suffumigations  of  Henbane,  &c.,  stink- 
ing Smells,  &c.,  which  the  Witches  do  use  in  their  Con- 
juration. jOHN  AUBREY,  Miscellanies  (1696) 


SMELLS  THAT  INTOXICATE 

It  is  said  that  other  trees  have  been  discovered  by  them 
which  yield  fruit  of  such  a  kind  that  when  they  have 
assembled  together  in  companies  in  the  same  place  and 
lighted  a  fire,  they  sit  round  in  a  circle  and  throw  some  of 
it  into  the  fire,  and  they  smell  the  fruit  which  is  thrown  on, 
as  it  burns,  and  are  intoxicated  by  the  scent  as  the  Hellenes 
are  with  wine,  and  when  more  of  the  fruit  is  thrown  on  they 
become  more  intoxicated,  until  at  last  they  rise  up  to 
dance  and  begin  to  sing.  This  is  said  to  be  the  manner  of 
their  living.  HERODOTUS,  History  (5th  cent.  B.C.) 

Trans.  G.  C.  Macaulay 


MR  TATTLE'S  SCENT 

MRS  FORESIGHT  :  Well,  but  Miss,  what  are  you  so  over- 
joy'd  at  ? 

Miss  :  Look  you  here,  Madam,  then,  what  Mr  Tattle  has 
given  me — Look  you  here,  Cousin,  here's  a  Snuff-Box ; 
nay,  there's  Snuff  in't ; — here,  will  you  have  any — Oh 
good !  how  sweet  it  is — Mr  Tattle  is  all  over  sweet,  his 

638 


Perruke  is  sweet,  and  his  Gloves  are  sweet — and  his 
Handkerchief  is  sweet,  pure  sweet,  sweeter  than  Roses — 
Smell  him,  Mother  ...  He  gave  me  this  Ring  for  a  Kiss. 
TATTLE  :  O  fie  Miss,  you  must  not  kiss  and  tell. 
Miss  :  Yes  ;  I  may  tell  my  Mother—And  he  says  he'll 
give  me  something  to  make  me  smell  so — Oh  pray  lend 
me  your  Handkerchief — Smell,  Cousin ;  he  says,  he'll 
give  me  something  that  will  make  my  smocks  smell  this 
way — Is  it  not  pure  ? — It's  better  than  Lavender  mun — 
I'm  resolv'd  I  won't  let  Nurse  put  any  more  Lavender 
among  my  Smocks. 

WILLIAM  CONGREVE,  Love  for  Love  (1695) 


SOLITUDE 


THE  HERMIT 

Whereas  the  Hermit  leades  a  sweet  retyred  life, 

From  Villages  repleate  with  ragg'd  and  sweating  Clownes, 

And  from  the  loathsome  ayres  of  smoky  cittied  Townes. 

When  as  the  Hermet  comes  out  of  his  homely  Cell, 
Where  from  all  rude  resort  he  happily  doth  dwell : 
Who  in  the  strength  of  youth,  a  man  at  Armes  hath  been  ; 
Or  one  who  of  this  world  the  vilenesse  having  scene 
Retyres  him  from  it  quite  ;  and  with  a  constant  mind 
Mans  beastliness  so  loathes,  that  flying  humane  kind, 

639 


The  black  and  darksome  nights,  the  bright  and  gladsome 

dayes 

Indifferent  are  to  him,  his  hope  on  God  that  staies. 
Each  little  Village  yeelds  his  short  and  homely  fare  : 
To  gather  wind-falne  sticks,  his  great'st  and  onely  care ; 
Which  every  aged  tree  still  yeeldeth  to  his  fire. 

This  man,  that  is  alone  a  King  in  his  desire, 
By  no  proud  ignorant  Lord  is  basely  over-aw'd  .  .  . 
His  free  and  noble  thought  nere  envies  at  the  grace 
That  often  times  is  given  unto  a  Baud  most  base, 

.  .  .  but  absolutely  free, 

His  happy  time  he  spends  the  works  of  God  to  see, 
In  those  so  sundry  hearbs  which  there  in  pleanty  growe  : 
Whose  sundry  strange  effects  he  onely  seeks  to  knowe. 
And  in  a  little  Maund,  beeing  made  of  Oziars  small, 
Which  serveth  him  to  doe  full  many  a  thing  withall, 
He  very  choicely  sorts  his  Simples  got  abroad. 

MICHAEL   DRAYTON 

Poly-Olbion.  Song  XIII  (1613) 


LUCULLUS  SUPS  WITH  LUCULLUS 

Another  time,  when  he  happened  to  sup  alone,  and  saw 
but  one  table  and  a  very  moderate  provision,  he  called  the 
servant  who  had  the  care  of  these  matters,  and  expressed 
his  dissatisfaction.  The  servant  said,  he  thought  as  nobody 
was  invited,  his  master  would  not  want  an  expensive 
supper.  "  What !  "  said  he,  "  didst  thou  not  know  that 
this  evening  Lucullus  sups  with  Lucullus  ?  " 

PLUTARCH 

Lives  (c.  100).  Trans.  J.  and  W.  Langhorne  (1770) 
640 


FAULTS  OF  THE  SOLITARY 

This  (says  he)  is  one  of  the  thousand  reasons  which  ought 
to  restrain  a  man  from  drony  solitude  and  useless  retire- 
ment. Solitude  (added  he  one  day)  is  dangerous  to  reason, 
without  being  favourable  to  virtue  :  .  .  .  those  who 
resist  gaiety,  will  be  likely  to  fall  a  sacrifice  to  appetite ; 
. . .  Remember  (continued  he)  that  the  solitary  mortal  is  cer- 
tainly luxurious,  probably  superstitious,  and  possibly  mad. 

HESTHER  PIOZZI 

Anecdotes  of  Dr  Johnson  (1786) 

NONE  TO  TROUBLE  Us 

As  for  Alcmoeon,  he  made  his  abode  and  residence  upon 
the  muddy  banke,  which  the  river  Achelous  had  newly 
gathered  and  cast  up, ...  to  avoid  the  pursute  (as  the  Poets 
say)  of  the  Furies  ;  but  in  my  conceit  rather,  because  he 
would  decline  the  offices  of  State,  civill  magistrates, 
seditious  broiles,  and  biting  calumniations  sib  to  furies  in 
hel,  he  chose  such  a  streight  and  narrow  place  to  inhabit, 
where  he  might  leade  a  life  in  quietnesse  and  repose, 
secured  from  all  such  busie  affaires.  ...  In  mine  opinion, 
there  is  no  reason  that  a  man  (unlesse  he  be  very  much 
besotted  and  transported  with  the  vaine  wind  of  popularity) 
when  he  is  confined  and  enclosed  within  an  island,  should 
complaine  of  fortune  .  .  .  but  rather  praise  her.  .  .  .  You 
may  oftentimes  there  enjoy  fully  your  rest  and  repose 
...  for  whereas  when  we  are  haply  playing  at  dice,  or 
otherwise  keeping  close  at  home,  there  will  be  some  of 
these  sycophants  or  busie  priers  and  envious  searchers 
into  all  our  actions,  ready  to  draw  us  out  of  our  houses  of 
WP  641 


pleasure  in  the  suburbs,  or  out  of  our  delightsome 
gardens,  to  make  our  appearance  judicially  in  the  common 
place,  or  to  perform  our  service  and  give  attendance  in  the 
Court :  there  will  be  none  such  about  to  saile  into  the 
Island  where  thou  art  confined  for  to  trouble  thee ;  none 
will  come  to  thee  to  demaund  or  crave  any  thing,  to 
borrow  monie,  to  request  thy  suretie-ship,  or  thy  assist- 
ance for  to  second  him  in  the  sute  of  any  office  . . .  unlesse 
peradventure  some  of  thy  best  friends  onely  and  nearest 
kinsfolke,  of  meere  love  and  affectionate  desire  to  see  thee, 
saile  over  for  thy  sake ;  for  the  rest  of  thy  life  besides  is 
permitted  to  be  as  safe  as  a  sanctuarie,  not  subject  to  any 
spoile,  trouble,  or  molestation. 

PLUTARCH 

Morals  (c.  100) 
Trans.  Philemon  Holland  (1603) 


PROPHESY  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 


Before  I  left  London,  I  fained  an  hundred  agreeable 
Melancholy  Pleasures,  with  which  I  might  Fool  away  a 
Retirement,  but  now  I  detest  being  alone.  .  .  .  Of  this  I 
am  sure,  that  God  Almighty  rather  than  be  alone  created 
the  Devil,  and  Man  rather  than  be  alone  chose  a  Wife. 
Whatever  advantage  I  have  lost  by  my  Country  Life,  I 
believe  I  have  gain'd  the  gift  of  Prophesy  in  the  Wilder- 
ness, for  I  foretold  the  Poem  with  which  A has 

visited  us. 

WALTER  MOYLE 
Letter  to  John  Dennis  (1695) 
642 


SPRING 


PASSION  AND  ECSTASY 

Time,  turning  eternally,  round,  now  that  the  spring  grows 
warm  calls  again  the  young  west  winds.  Earth,  renewed, 
puts  on  her  brief  youth,  and  already  the  ground,  unbound 
from  frost,  grows  sweetly  green.  Am  I  wrong,  or  do  my 
songs  also  gain  renewed  strength,  and  is  genius  the  reward 
of  spring  ?  .  .  .  My  breast  stirs  and  burns  with  secret 
passion,  and  frenzy  and  holy  sounds  move  me  to  the 
depths.  Apollo  himself  comes,  I  see  his  locks  twined  with 
laurel  of  Peneus,  Apollo  is  coining  himself.  .  . .  What  high 
music  does  my  spirit  sound  through  my  open  lips  ?  What 
does  this  madness,  this  holy  inspiration,  bring  forth  ?  Of 
spring,  who  has  inspired  me,  I  will  sing,  thus  repaying 
her  her  gifts.  .  .  . 

Earth,  revived,  lays  aside  loathed  age,  and  desires, 
Phoebus,  to  enter  thy  embrace.  She  both  desires  and  is 
worthy,  for  what  is  lovelier  than  she,  as,  luxuriantly 
all-bearing,  she  stretches  out  her  breast,  and  breathes 
forth  the  harvests  of  Arabia,  and  from  her  beautiful  mouth 
pours  the  gentle  balsam  and  the  roses  of  Paphos  ?  .  .  . 

Thus  lascivious  Earth  breathes  forth  her  passion,  and 
all  the  mob  of  creatures  run  after  their  mother's  example. 

643 


Now  truly  Cupid  runs  roaming  over  the  world.  .  .  .  And 
now  he  is  striving  to  conquer  the  unconquered  Diana 
herself.  .  .  .  Young  men  shout  the  marriage  song  about 
marble  cities,  and  the  shore  and  the  hollow  rocks  echo 
lo  Hymen  !  Hymen  comes,  richly  and  beautifully  adorn- 
ed. ...  Now  the  Satyrs  too,  when  twilight  rises,  fly  in  a 
swift  band  about  the  flowery  country,  and  Sylvanus, 
chapletted  with  his  own  cypress,  the  god  half  goat,  the 
goat  half  god.  The  Dryads,  who  have  lain  hid  beneath 
ancient  trees,  now  wander  over  the  lonely  fields.  Through 
the  sown  fields  and  thickets  Maenalian  Pan  runs  riot  .  .  . 
and  desirous  Faunus  preys  after  some  Oread,  while  the 
nymph  takes  thought  for  herself  on  fearful  feet,  and  now 
she  hides,  and  hiding,  ill-sheltered,  would  fain  be  seen ; 
she  flees,  and  fleeing,  wishes  herself  caught.  .  .  . 

O  Phoebus,  drive  thy  swift  yoked  steeds  as  slowly  as 
thou  canst,  and  let  not  the  spring  haste  by. 

JOHN   MILTON 

Elegia  Quinta.  In  Adventum  Veris  (1628) 

(Translated) 


THE  MIRTHFUL  QUIRES 


When  Phoebus  lifts  his  head  out  of  the  Winteres  wave 
No  sooner  doth  the  Earth  her  flowerie  bosome  brave, 
At  such  time  as  the  Yeere  brings  on  the  pleasant  Spring, 
But   Hunts-up   to    the    Morne   the   feathered    Sylvans 

sing: 

And  in  the  lower  Grove  as  on  the  rising  Knole, 
Upon  the  highest  spray  of  every  mounting  pole, 

644 


Those  Quirristers  are  pearcht  with  many  a  speckled 

breast. 

Then  from  her  burnisht  gate  the  goodly  glittring  East 
Guilds  every  lofty  top  which  late  the  humorous  Night 
Bespangled  had  with  pearle  to  please  the  Mornings  sight. 
On  which  the  mirthfull  Quires  with  their  cleere  open 

throats 

Unto  the  joyfull  Morne  so  straine  their  wobling  notes 
That  Hills  and  Valleys  ring,  and  even  the  echoing  Ayre 
Seemes  all  composed  of  sounds  about  them  every  where. 

MICHAEL  DRAYTON 

Poly  OJbion.  Song  XIII  (1613) 


THE  VERNAL  SUN 

The  Almond  flourished!,  the  Birch  trees  flowe, 
the  sad  Mezereon  Cheerefully  doth  Blowe. 
The  flourie  sonnes  before  their  fathers  seen, 
and  snayles  beginne  to  Crop  the  Mandrake  green. 
The  vernall  sunne  with  Crocus  gardens  fills, 
with  Hyacinths,  Anemones,  and  Daffodills  : 
The  hazell  Catskins  now  delate  and  fall, 
and  Paronychions  peep  upon  each  wall. 

SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE  (?) 

(Date  unknown 


645 


SPRUNKING 


A  NEW  NAME  FOR  AN  ANCIENT  THING 

This  sprunking  is  a  Dutch  word,  the  first  as  we  hear  of 
that  Language  that  ever  came  in  fashion  with  Ladies. 

Ladies'  Dictionary  (1694) 


FICTITIOUS  HAIR 

You  deceive  us  with  faked  hair  represented  by  an  oint- 
ment, Phoebus,  and  your  bald  scalp  is  covered  with 
locks  painted  on  it.  MARTIAL 

Epigrams.  Book  VI.  57  (c.  84) 


IMPROVING  THE  FACE 

Learn,  girls,  what  attentions  improve  the  face,  and  by  what 
means  your  beauty  may  be  kept  up.  .  . .  What  is  cultivated 
pleases.  .  .  .  Do  not  trust  [for  inspiring  love]  to  herbs, 
or  to  mixed  juices,  nor  try  the  noxious  poison  of  an 
enamoured  mare.  .  .  . 

646 


Learn  how  .  .  .  your  faces  can  shine  fair.  Strip  barley 
. . .  from  its  husk.  Let  an  equal  quantity  of  vetch  be  soaked 
in  ten  eggs  :  but  let  the  stripped  barley  weigh  two  pounds. 
When  this  has  been  dried  by  the  winds  let  the  slow  she-ass 
break  it  on  the  rough  mill-stone  :  pound  up  with  it  the 
first  horns  that  fall  from  a  lively  stag.  .  .  .  Add  twelve 
narcissus  bulbs  without  their  sheaths . . .  gums  and  Tuscan 
seed  .  .  .  and  let  nine  times  as  much  honey  go  with  it. 
Whoever  shall  apply  such  a  prescription  to  her  face  will 
shine  smoother  than  her  own  mirror.  Neither  hesitate  to 
parch  pale  lupin  seeds,  and  with  them  beans  that  puff  out 
the  body.  .  .  .  Blemishes  on  the  face  disappear  before  a 
remedy  from  the  plaintive  birds-nest ;  they  call  it  Hal- 
cyonea.  ...  It  is  good  to  add  fennel  to  fragrant  myrrh  .  .  . 
as  much  as  one  hand  can  hold  of  dried  roses.  .  .  .  On  these 
pour  cream  of  barley.  .  .  .  Placed  for  a  short  time  on  your 
soft  face,  it  will  leave  plenty  of  colour  over  all  the  counten- 
ance. I  have  seen  some  one  pound  up  poppies  wetted  with 
cold  water,  and  smear  them  on  her  tender  cheeks.  OVID 

De  Medicamine  Faciei  Liber  (c.  10  B.C.) 


SCANDALISING  CHRISTIANS 

Those  women  who  paint  their  faces  with  rouge  and  their 
eyes  with  purple,  whose  faces,  coated  with  plaster  and 
spoilt  by  too  much  whiteness,  remind  us  of  idols,  who,  if 
by  chance  they  shed  a  careless  tear,  show  a  furrow,  .  .  . 
who  pile  themselves  a  head  out  of  the  hair  of  others,  these 
are  they  who  scandalise  the  eyes  of  Christians. 

ST  JEROME 

Letter  to  Marcella  (384) 
647 


A  DISHONEST  ARTIFICE 

As  to  the  use  of  pigments  by  women  in  colouring  the  face, 
in  order  to  have  a  ruddier  or  a  fairer  complexion,  this  is 
a  dishonest  artifice,  by  which  I  am  sure  that  even  their 
own  husbands  do  not  wish  to  be  deceived. 

ST  AUGUSTINE,  Letter  to  Possideus  (c.  400) 


THOSE  TAWNY  WOMEN 

It  hath  towards  the  south  part  of  the  river,  great  quanti- 
ties of ...  divers  berries,  that  die  a  most  perfect  crimson 
and  Carnation :  And  for  painting,  all  France,  Italy,  or  the 
east  Indies,  yeild  none  such  :  For  the  more  the  skyn  is 
washed,  the  fayrer  the  cullour  appeareth,  and  with  which, 
even  those  brown  and  tawnie  women  spot  themselves,  and 
cullour  their  cheekes. 

SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH,  Discoverie  of  Guiana  (1596) 


PAINFUL  BEAUTY 

Who  hath  not  heard  of  her  at  Paris,  which  only  to  get 
a  fresher  hew  of  a  new  skin,  endured  to  have  her  face  flead 
all  over  ?  There  are  some  who,  being  sound,  and  in  perfit 
health,  have  had  some  teeth  puld-out,  thereby  to  frame 
a  daintier  or  more  pleasing  voyce,  or  to  set  them  in  better 
order  ?  How  many  examples  of  paine  or  smarte  have  we 
of  that  kind  and  sex  ?  What  can  they  not  doe  ?  What  will 
they  not  doe  ?  What  feare  they  to  doe  ?  So  they  may  but 
hope  for  some  amendment  of  their  beautie  ? 

648 


Vellere  queis  cura  est  albos  a  stirpe  capillos> 
Et  faciem  dempta  pelle  referre  novam. 

Who  take  great  care  to  root  out  their  gray  haire, 
And  skin  flead-off  a  new  face  to  repaire. 

I  have  scene  some  swallow  gravell,  ashes,  coales,  dust, 
tallow,  candles  and  for  the-nonce,  labour  and  toyle  them- 
selves to  spoile  their  stomacke,  only  to  get  a  pale-bleake 
colour.  To  become  slender  in  wast,  and  to  have  a  straight 
spagnolized  body  what  pinching,  what  girding,  what  ting- 
ling will  they  not  indure ;  Yea  sometimes  with  yron-plates, 
with  whale-bones,  and  other  such  trash,  that  their  very 
skin,  and  quicke  flesh  is  eaten  in  and  consumed  to  the 
bones  ;  Whereby  they  sometimes  worke  their  owne  death. 

MICHEL  DE  MONTAIGNE 

Essays  :  That  the  taste  of  goods  or  evils  doth  greatly 

depend  on  the  opinion  we  have  of  them  (1580) 

Trans.  John  Florio  (1603) 


FACE-DECORATIONS 

The  Br amines  of  Agra  mark  themselves  in  Forehead,  Ears, 
and  Throat,  with  a  kind  of  yellow  geare  which  they  grind, 
and  every  morning  they  do  it,  and  so  do  the  women.  The 
Gentiles  of  Indostan,  men  and  women  both,  paint  on  their 
foreheads  and  other  parts  of  their  faces,  red  and  yellow 
spots.  The  Cygnanians  are  of  a  horrid  aspect,  much  like 
the  people  called  Agathyres>  of  whom  the  poet  Virgil 
speaketh,  for  they  were  all  painted  and  spotted  with  sundry 
colours,  and  especially  with  black  and  red  ...  they  paint 
themselves  from  the  forehead  even  unto  the  knees.  .  .  . 

649 


A  man  would  think  them  to  be  Divels  incarnate  broke  out 
of  Hell,  they  are  so  like  hell-hounds.  I  am  sure  they  violate 
and  impudently  affront  Nature.  .  .  .  The  Virginian  women 
rase  their  Faces  and  whole  Bodies  with  a  sharp  iron  which 
makes  a  stamp  in  curious  knots,  and  drawes  the  propor- 
tions of  Fowls,  Fishes,  or  Beasts  ;  then  with  Painting  of 
sundry  lively  Colours  they  rub  it  into  the  stamp,  which 
will  never  be  taken  away.  .  .  .  The  Egyptian-Moores,  both 
men  and  women,  for  love  of  each  other  distain  their  Chins 
with  knots  and  flowers  of  blew,  made  by  the  pricking  of 
the  skin  with  needles,  and  rubbing  it  over  with  ink  and  the 
juice  of  an  herb.  .  .  .  The  Arabian  women  .  .  .  paint  their 
Faces,  Breasts,  Armes,  and  Hands,  with  a  certain  azured 
colour,  thinking  that  they  are  very  handsome  after  this 
manner. 

Our  English  ladies,  who  seeme  to  have  borrowed  many 
of  their  Cosmetical  conceits  from  barbarous  Nations,  are 
seldome  known  to  be  contented  with  a  Face  of  God's 
making,  for  they  are  either  adding,  detracting,  or  altering 
continually.  Sometimes  they  thinke  they  have  too  much 
colour,  then  they  take  much  Physique  to  make  them  look 
pale  and  faire  :  Now  they  have  too  little  colour,  then 
Spanish-Paper,  Red-Leather,  and  other  Cosmetical 
Rubriques  must  be  had.  Yet  for  all  this,  it  may  be  the 
skins  of  their  Faces  do  not  please  them,  off  they  go  with 
Mercury-water,  and  so  they  remain  like  peeled  ewes,  until 
their  Faces  have  recovered  a  new  Epidermis.  Sometimes 
they  want  a  Mole  to  set  off  their  beauty,  such  as  Venus 
had,  then  it  is  well  if  one  Black-Patch  will  serve  to  make 
their  Faces  remarkable,  for  some  fill  their  Visages  full  of 
them,  varied  into  all  manner  of  shapes  and  figures,  which 
is  as  odious  and  senseless  an  affectation  as  ever  was  used 
by  any  barbarous  Nation  in  the  world.  .  .  .  Effeminate 

650 


Gallants  ...  of  late  have  begun  to  vie  patches  and  beauty- 
spots,  nay  painting,  with  the  most  tenderest  and  phantas- 
tical  Ladies  ...  to  the  .  .  .  high  dishonour  and  abasement 
of  the  glory  of  mans  perfection.  JOHN  BULWER 

Anthropometamorphosis  :  or,  The  Artificial 

Changeling  (1650) 


EYE-BROWS 

In  the  West  Indies,  the  Cumanans  pluck  off  all  the  haire 
of  their  Eye-brows,  taking  great  pride  and  using  much 
superstition  in  that  unnatural  depilation.  .  . .  Of  old  time, 
the  women  when  their  Eye-brows  were  long  and  broad, 
they  made  them  narrow,  subtile,  and  arched  either  with 
Pinsers  or  Sissers,  and  when  they  were  yellow  or  white, 
they  made  them  black  with  Soot,  as  you  may  read  in 
Tertullian,  Plautus,  Athenaeus,  Clemens  Alexandinus,  and 
others.  .  .  .  The  American  women  do  with  a  certain  Fucus 
paint  their  Ey-browes,  which  they  lay  on  with  a  pencil : 
A  thing  also  usual  with  Frenchwomen.,  who  have  little 
modesty.  j^. 

EYE-LIDS 

The  Brasileans  . . .  pull  off  and  eradicate  the  Haire  growing 
on  their  Eye-lids.  The  Turks  have  a  black  powder  . . .  which 
with  a  fine  pencil  they  lay  under  their  Eye-lids,  which 
doth  colour  them  black,  whereby  the  White  of  the  Eye  is 
set  off  more  white  :  with  the  same  powder  also  they  colour 
the  hairs  of  their  Eye-lids. 

651 


EYES 


They  of  Cape  Lopos  Gonfalues,  both  men  and  women,  use 
sometimes  to  make  one  of  their  Eyes  white,  the  other  red 
or  yellow. 

Ibid. 

NOSES 


The  Tartarian  women  cut  and  pare  their  Noses  between 
their  Eyes,  that  they  may  seem  more  flat  and  saddle-nosed, 
leaving  themselves  no  Nose  at  all  in  that  place,  annointing 
the  very  same  place  with  a  black  oyntment ;  which  sight 
seemed  most  ugly  in  the  eyes  of  Friar  William  de  Rubra- 
quinS)  a  Frenchman,  and  his  companions. 

Ibid. 

EARS 

The  Macuasy  .  .  .  weare  their  Eares  bored  round  with 
many  holes,  in  which  they  have  pegs  of  wood,  slender 
like  knitting-needles  .  .  .  which  make  them  look  like 
hedge-hogs  ;  this  is  part  of  their  gallantry,  for  if  they  are 
sad,  or  crossed  with  any  disaster,  they  have  all  these  holes 
open.  In  Peru>  the  greatest  Eares  are  ever  esteemed  the 
fairest,  which  with  all  Art  and  Industry  they  are  contin- 
ually stretching  out ;  and  a  man  . . .  sweareth  to  have  been 
in  a  Province  of  the  East  Indies,  the  people  so  careful  to 
make  them  great,  and  so  to  load  them  with  heavy  Jewels, 
that  at  great  ease  he  could  have  thrust  his  arme  thorow 
one  of  their  Bare-holes. 

Ibid. 

652 


TEETH 

The  people  of  Molalia  .  .  .  account  Red  Teeth  a  great 
beautie,  and  therefore  they  colour  their  Teeth  Red  with 
Beetle.  .  .  .  The  women  of ...  Orissa  in  India  ...  in  a 
foolish  pride  black  their  Teeth,  because  Dogs  teeth 
(forsooth)  are  white.  In  Cariaian  the  women  use  to  gild 
their  teeth. 

Ibid. 


ARMS,  HANDS,  AND  NAILS 

The  Persins  .  .  .  illustrate  their  Arms  and  Hands,  their 
Legs  and  Feet,  with  painted  flowers  and  birds.  .  .  .  They 
paint  their  nails  party-coloured  white  and  vermelion.  The 
Turkes  paint  their  long  nails  red,  and  our  Merchants  that 
live  there  conform  unto  the  custome.  In  the  Kingdom  of 
Goer,  they  paint  their  Nails  yellow  :  and  the  nobler  any 
one  is,  so  much  the  longer  his  Nails  :  so  that  he  is  the  best 
Gentleman  whose  Nails  appears  like  Eagles  claws. 

Ibid. 


SUBMARINE  TOILET 

My  Cabinets  are  Oyster-shells, 
In  which  I  keep  my  Orient-Pearls, 
To  open  them  I  use  the  Tide, 
As  Keys  to  Locks,  which  opens  wide, 
The  Oyster-shells,  then  out  I  take  ; 
653 


Those,  Orient-Pearls  and  Crowns  do  make ; 

And  modest  Coral  I  do  wear. 

Which  blushes  when  it  touches  air. 

On  Silver- Waves  I  sit  and  sing, 

And  then  the  Fish  lie  listening  : 

Then  sitting  on  a  Rocky  Stone, 

I  comb  my  Hair  with  Fishes  bone. 

The  whil'st  Apollo,  with  his  Beams, 

Doth  dry  my  Hair  from  wat'ry  streams. 

His  Light  doth  glaze  the  Water's  face, 

Make  the  large  Sea  my  Looking- Glass  ; 

So  when  I  swim  on  Waters  high, 

I  see  my  self  as  I  glide  by  : 

But  when  the  Sun  begins  to  burn, 

I  back  into  my  Waters  turn, 

And  dive  unto  the  bottom  low  : 

Then  on  my  head  the  Waters  flow 

In  Curled  waves  and  Circles  round ; 

And  thus  with  Waters  am  I  Crown'd. 

MARGARET  CAVENDISH,  DUCHESS  OF  NEWCASTLE 

The  Convent  of  Pleasure  (1668) 


TINTING  THE  NAILS 

The  nayles  are  also  of  a  substance  tingible  and  outwardly 
colourable, ...  as  I  have  seen  in  the  Dominions  of  the 
Turk,  where  some  not  only  guild  the  nayles,  butt  many 
colour  them  of  a  reddish  colour  which  may  bee  anywhere 
performed  by  the  powder  of  Alcanna  or  Cua  steeped  in 
a  cloath  to  lay  it  upon  the  nayles  some  howers,  butt  this 
is  no  long  lasting  colour  and  must  be  renewed  sometimes, 

654 


and  if  it  were,  yett  the  nayles,  growing  in  length,  would  at 
last  carye  it  off.  SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE 

Letter  to  his  son  Edward  (1679) 


A  LADY'S  REQUIREMENTS 

And  Spanish  paper.  Lip  and  Cheek 
With  Spittel  sweetly  to  belick  : 
Nor  therefore  spare  in  the  next  place 
The  pocket  sprunking  Looking-glass  : 
Calembuc  combs  in  pulvil  case 
To  set  and  trim  the  hair  and  face  : 
And  that  the  cheeks  may  both  agree, 
Plumpers  to  fill  the  cavity.  .  .  . 

The  table  miroir,  one  glue  pot, 
One  for  Pomatuma,  and  what  not  ? 
Of  washes,  unguents,  and  cosmeticks  ; 
A  pair  of  silver  candlesticks  ; 
Snuffers  and  snuff-dish ;  boxes  more, 
For  powders,  patches,  waters  store, 
In  silver  flasks,  or  bottles,  cups 
Cover'd,  or  open,  to  wash  chaps.  .  .  . 
Of  other  waters,  rich  and  sweet, 
To  sprinkle  Handkerchief  is  meet ; 
D'ange,  orange,  mill-fleur,  myrtle, 
Whole  quarts  the  Chamber  to  bequirtle.  .  .  . 
Thus  rigg'd  the  Vessel,  and  equipp'd, 
She  is  for  all  Adventures  shipp'd. 

JOHN  EVELYN   (AND  HIS  DAUGHTER  MARY) 

Mundus  MuliebriS)  or  the  Ladies  Dressing-Room 

Unlocked  (1690) 

655 


A    USE  FOR    VERSE 

But  perhaps,  with  a  panting  heart,  you  carry  your  piece 
before  a  woman  of  quality.  She  gives  the  labours  of  your 
brain  to  her  maid  to  be  cut  into  shreds  for  curling  her  hair. 

F.  M.   A.   DE  VOLTAIRE 

Letter  to  M.  Le  Fevrier 


PREPARING  FOR  THE  PARTY 


And  now  unveil'd,  the  Toilet  stands  display'd, 
Each  silver  Vase  in  mystic  order  laid. 
First,  rob'd  in  white,  the  Nymph  intent  adores, 
With  head  uncover'd,  the  Cosmetick  pow'rs, 
A  heav'nly  Image  in  the  glass  appears. 
To  that  she  bends,  to  that  her  eyes  she  rears  ; 
Th'  Inferior  Priestess,  at  her  altar's  side, 
Trembling  begins  the  sacred  rites  of  Pride. 
Unnumber'd  treasures  ope  at  once,  and  here 
The  various  off'rings  of  the  world  appear  ; 
From  each  she  nicely  culls  with  curious  toil 
And  decks  the  Goddess  with  the  glitt'ring  spoil. 
This  casket  India's  glowing  gems  unlocks, 
And  all  Arabia  breathes  from  yonder  box. 
The  tortoise  here  and  elephant  unite, 
Transformed  to  combs,  the  speckled  and  the  white. 
Here  files  of  pins  extend  their  shining  rows, 
Puffs,  Powders,  Patches,  Bibles,  Billets-doux. 
Now  awful  Beauty  puts  on  all  its  arms ; 
The  fair  each  moment  rises  in  her  Charms 
656 


Repairs  her  smiles,  awakens  ev'ry  grace, 
And  calls  forth  all  the  wonders  of  her  face. 

ALEXANDER  POPE 

The  Rape  of  the  Lock  (1712) 


NATURE'S  INCIVILITY  OUTDONE 

Yet,  uncivil  as  Nature  has  been,  they  seem  resolved  to 
outdo  her  in  unkindness ;  they  use  white  powder,  blue 
powder,  and  black  powder,  for  their  hair,  and  a  red 
powder  for  the  face  on  some  particular  occasion. 

They  like  to  have  the  face  of  various  colours,  as  among 
the  Tartars  of  Koreki,  frequently  sticking  on,  with  spittle, 
little  black  patches  on  every  part  of  it,  except  on  the  tip 
of  the  nose,  which  I  have  never  seen  with  a  patch.  You'll 
have  a  better  idea  of  their  manner  of  placing  these  spots, 
when  I  have  finished  the  map  of  an  English  face  patched 
up  to  the  fashion,  which  shall  shortly  be  sent  to  increase 
your  curious  collection  of  paintings,  medals,  and  monsters. 

OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

Letters  from  a  Citizen  of  the  World  to  his  Friends  in 

the  East  (1762) 


A  FOOLISH  QUESTION 

Why  do  they  adorn  themselves  with  so  many  colours  of 
hearbs,  fictitious  flowers,  curious  needleworks,  quaint 
devices,  sweet-smelling  odours,  with  those  inestimable 

657 


riches  of  pretious  stones,  pearls,  rubies,  diamonds, 
emeralds,  etc  ?  Why  do  they  crown  themselves  with  gold 
and  silver,  use  coronets,  and  tires  of  several  fashions,  deck 
themselves  with  pendants,  bracelets,  ear-rings,  chains, 
girdles,  rings,  pins,  spangles,  embroyderies,  shadows, 
rabatoes,  versicolor  ribbands  ?  Why  do  they  make  such 
glorious  shews  with  their  scarfs,  feathers,  fans,  masks, 
furs,  laces,  tiffanies,  ruffs,  falls,  calls,  cuffs,  damasks, 
velvets,  tinsels,  cloth  of  gold,  silver,  tissue  ?  with  colours 
of  heaven,  stars,  planets  ?  the  strength  of  metals,  stones, 
odours,  flowers,  birds,  beasts,  fishes,  and  whatsoever 
Afrika,  Asia,  America,  sea,  land,  art,  and  industry  of 
man  can  afford  ?  Why  do  they  use  and  covet  such  novelty 
of  invention,  such  new-fangled  tires,  and  spend  such 
inestimable  summs  on  them  ?  To  what  end  are  those 
crisped,  false  hairs,  painted  faces,  as  the  Satyrist 
observes.  .  .  .  Why  are  they  like  so  many  Sybarites,  or 
Neroes  Poppaea,  Assuerus  concubines,  so  costly,  so  long  a 
dressing  as  Caesar  were  marshalling  his  army,  or  an  hawk 
in  pruning  ?  .  .  .  A  Gardiner  takes  not  so  much  delight  and 
pains  in  his  garden,  an  horse  man  to  dress  his  horse,  scour  his 
armour,  a  Marriner  about  his  ship,  a  merchant  his  shop 
and  shop-book,  as  they  do  about  their  faces,  and  all 
those  other  parts  :  such  setting  up  with  corks,  streighting 
with  whale-bones  ;  why  is  it  but  as  a  day-net  catcheth 
Larks,  to  make  yong  men  stoop  unto  them  ? 

ROBERT  BURTON 

Anatomy  Of  Melancholy  (1621.  Edition  1632) 


658 


STREET  MUSIC 


BARREL  ORGAN 

Oh  !  there  is  an  organ  playing  in  the  street — a  waltz  too  I 
I  must  leave  off  to  listen.  They  are  playing  a  waltz  which 
I  have  heard  ten  thousand  times  at  the  balls  in  London, 
between  1812  and  1815.  Music  is  a  strange  thing. 

LORD  BYRON,  Diary  (Feb.  2,  1821) 


STREET  DANCERS 

The  sister  of  St  Damian  appeared  to  him  after  her  death, 
and  said  .  .  .  "  Once,  standing  in  mine  own  chamber,  I 
listened  with  a  certain  sweetness  to  the  songs  of  them 
that  danced  in  the  streets,  for  which  I  did  no  penance 
during  my  earthly  life  ;  wherefore  I  must  now  be  punished 
for  fifteen  days  in  purgatory." 

JOANNES  HEROLT,  Promptuarium  (c.  1500) 


BALLADS 

After  he  [Bishop  Corbet]  was  D.  of  Divinity,  he  sang  bal- 
lads at  the  Crosse  at  Abingdon  on  a  market-day.  He  and 

659 


some  of  his  camerades  were  at  the  taverne  by  the  crosse. . . . 
The  ballad  singer  complaynd,  he  had  no  custome,  he 
could  not  putt-off  his  ballades.  The  jolly  Doctor  putts-off 
his  gowne,  and  putts-on  the  ballad  singer's  leathern  jacket, 
and  being  a  handsome  man,  and  had  a  rare  full  voice,  he 
presently  vended  a  great  many,  and  had  a  great  audience. 
JOHN  AUBREY,  Brief  Lives  :  Richard  Corbet  (c.  1680) 


BEGGING  TO  THE  TABOR 

In  Herefordshire,  and  parts  of  the  marshes  of  Wales,  the 
Tabor  and  Pipe  were  exceedingly  common.  Many  beggars 
beg'd  with  it,  and  the  peasants  danced  to  it  in  the  church- 
yard on  holydays  and  holy  day-eves.  The  Tabor  is  derived 
from  the  Sistrum  of  the  Romans. 

Ibid.  Remains  of  Gentilism  and  Judaism  (1687) 


SUNDAY 


CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND 

The  King's  Majesty's  Declaration  to  his  Subjects  Concern- 
ing Lawful  Sports  to  be  used. 

Whereas  We   did  justly  in   Our   Progresse  through 
Lancashire  rebuke  some  Puritanes  and  Precise  People,  .  .  . 

660 


in  the  prohibiting  and  unlawfull  punishing  of  Our  good 
people  for  using  their  lawfull  recreations  and  honest 
exercises  upon  Sundays  and  other  Holy-days,  after  the 
afternoone  Sermon  or  Service ;  We  now  finde,  that  two 
sortes  of  people  wherewith  that  countrey  is  much  infested 
(WemeanPapzsfc  and  Puritanes)  have  maliciously  traduc'd 
and  calumniated  those  Our  just  and  honourable  proceed- 
ings. .  .  .  We  have  therefore  thought  good  hereby  to  cleer 
and  make  Our  Pleasure  to  be  manifested  to  all  Our  good 
people  in  those  partes.  .  .  . 

We  heard  the  generall  complaynt  of  Our  people,  that 
they  were  barred  from  all  lawfull  recreation  and  exercise 
upon  the  Sundaye's  afternoone,  after  the  ending  of  all 
Divine  Service.  Which  cannot  but  produce  two  evills.  .  .  . 
This  prohibition  barreth  the  common  and  meaner  sort  of 
people  from  using  such  exercises  as  may  make  their  body's 
more  able  for  war,  when  We,  or  Our  Successours  shall 
have  occasion  to  use  them  :  and  in  place  therof  setts  up 
filthie  tipplings  and  drunkennesse,  and  breedes  a  number 
of  idle  and  discontented  speeches  in  their  ale-houses.  For 
when  shall  the  common  people  have  leave  to  exercise,  if 
not  upon  the  Sundayes  and  Holy-dayes,  seeing  they  must 
apply  their  labour  and  win  their  living  in  all  working- 
dayes  ?  .  .  . 

Our  Pleasure  is, ...  That  after  the  end  of  Divine  Service, 
Our  good  People  be  not  disturbed,  letted,  or  discouraged 
from  any  lawfull  recreation,  such  as  Dancing  (either  men  or 
women)  Archery  for  men,  Leaping,  Vaulting,  or  any  other 
such  harmlesse  recreations  ;  nor  from  having  of  May  Games, 
Whitsun  Ales,  and  Morris  Dances,  and  the  setting  up  of  May 
Poles,  and  other  sports  therwith  used  :  so  as  the  same  bee  had 
in  due  and  convenient  time,  without  impediment  or  neglect  of 
Divine  Service.  And,  That  women  shall  have  leave  to  carry 

661 


Rushes  to  the  Church  for  the  decoring  of  it,  according  to 
their  olde  custome. 

But  whithal,  We  doe  here  account  stil  as  prohibited^  all 
unlawfull  games,  to  be  us9d  upon  Sunday es  onely  ;  as  Beare 
and  Bull  Baitings;  Interludes;  and  at  all  times,  in  the 
meaner  sorte  of  people  by  Law  prohibited,  Bowling. 

And  likewise.  We  bar  from  this  benefit  and  libertie,  all 
such  knowne  Recusants,  either  men  or  women,  as  will 
abstaine  from  comming  to  Church  or  Divine  Service  : 
beeing  therfor  unworthy  of  any  lawfull  recreation  after 
the  said  Service,  that  wil  not  first  come  to  the  Church 
and  serve  GOD. 

Prohibiting  in  like  sorte,  the  said  recreation  to  any  that, 
though  conforme  in  Religion,  are  not  present  in  the  Church  . . . 

Our  Pleasure  likewise  is,  That  they  to  whom  it  belongeth 
in  Office  shall  present  and  sharply  punish  all  such,  as  in  abuse 
of  this  Our  liber  tie,  will  use  these  Exercises  before  the  ends  of 
all  Divine  Services  for  that  day. 

And  We,  likewise,  straitly  commaund,  That  every 
person  shall  resort  to  his  owne  Parish  Church  to  heare 
Divine  Service  ;  and  each  Parish,  by  it  selfe,  to  use  the  said 
recreation  after  Divine  Service,  Prohibiting  likewise,  Any 
offensive  weapons  to  be  carryed  or  us'd  in  the  said  times  of 
recreation. 

KING  JAMES  I 

(1618) 


DR  JOHNSON'S 

Dr  Johnson  enforced  the  strict  observance  of  Sunday. 
"  It  should  be  different,"  (he  observed,)  "  from  another 

662 


day.  People  may  walk,  but  not  throw  stones  at  birds. 
There  may  be  relaxation,  but  there  should  be  no 
levity."  .  .  . 

"  Sunday/'  (said  he)  "  was  a  heavy  day  to  me  when  I 
was  a  boy.  My  mother  confined  me  on  that  day,  and 
made  me  read  The  Whole  Duty  of  Man." 

JAMES  BOSWELL 

Life  of  Johnson  (1791) 


I  seldom  frequent  card-tables  on  Sunday. 

SAMUEL  JOHNSON 
Rambler  (1750-52) 


LONDONERS' 

Sunday,  October  20,  169-.  Great  jangling  of  Bells  all 
over  the  City  from  eight  to  nine.  Psalms  murder'd  in 
most  Parishes  at  ten.  Abundance  of  Doctrines  and  Uses  in 
the  Meetings  and  no  Application.  Vast  consumption  of 
Roast  Beef  and  Pudding  at  one.  Afternoon  sleepy  in  most 
Churches.  Score  of  Handkercheifs  stolen  in  Paul's  at 
three.  Informers  busy  all  day  long.  Night  not  so  sober  as 
might  be  wish'd. 

Sunday,  Oct.  27.  Taylors  curs'd  for  not  bringing  the  fine 
Cloathes  home  at  the  promis'd  Hour.  Great  Ogling  at 
Covent-Garden  Church  and  other  places,  from  ten  to 
twelve.  A  She-Quaker  holds  forth  in  her  Stays  in  Grace- 
Church- Street,  to  the  great  Cramping  of  the  Spirit. 

663 


Ministers  preach  against  Sin,  but  the  People  still  Practice 
it,  and  are  like  to  do  so  to  the  end  of  the  Chapter. 

Sunday,  Nov.  3.  Beggars  take  up  their  respective  Posts  in 
Lincoln-Inn  Fields  and  other  Places,  by  seven,  that  they 
may  be  able  to  praise  God  in  Capon  and  March  beer  at 
Night.  Parish-Clerks  liquor  their  Throats  plentifully  at 
eight,  and  chaunt  out  Hopkins  most  melodiously  about 
ten.  Sextons,  Men  of  great  Authority  most  part  of  the  Day, 
whip  Dogs  out  of  the  Church  for  being  Obstreperous. 
Great  Thumping  and  Dusting  of  the  Cushion  at  Suiter's 
Hall,  about  eleven ;  one  would  almost  think  the  Man  was 
in  Earnest,  he  lays  so  Furiously  about  him.  A  most  Re- 
freshing Smell  of  Garlick  at  Spitalfields  and  Soho  at 
twelve.  Country-fellows  staring  at  the  two  Wooden  Men 
in  St  Dunstans  from  one  to  two,  to  see  how  Notably  they 
Strike  the  Quarters.  The  great  Point  of  Predestination 
settled  in  Russel-Court  about  three,  and  the  People  go 
home  as  Wise  as  they  came  thither.  A  merrie  Farce,  call'd 
the  Confusion  of  Babel,  acted  at  surly  Wafs  Coffee-House 
in  the  Evening,  and  lasts  from  five  till  ten.  Great  Squab- 
bling, Buzzing,  and  Prating,  from  the  Baronefs  Club, 
down  to  the  noisy  Footman  below.  Terrible  Swearing  in 
the  Kitchen  for  the  Boys  not  brining  the  vile  Derby  in 
time.  Beef  call'd  for  at  every  Table,  and  Mrs  Cook  most 
highly  importun'd  for  a  Carrot. 

Sunday,  Nov.  17.  Surgeons  knock'd  up  by  twelve  Penny 
Customers  at  seven  and  hinder'd,  as  they  say,  from  going 
to  Church ;  but  ten  to  one  whether  they  wou'd  have  gone 
thither,  tho'  no  body  had  visited  'em.  Dumplings  far 
exceeding  those  of  Norfolk,  at  the  Half-Moon  in  Cheap- 
side,  and  the  Rose  by  Temple-Bar  at  eleven.  Citizens  whet 
away  their  Stomachs,  and  judiciously  censure  the  Sermon, 

664 


in  most  Taverns  about  twelve  ;  in  the  Strength  of  Roast- 
Beef  and  the  Sunday  Bottle  of  Claret,  give  their  Wives  a 
Comfortable  Refreshment  on  the  Couch  about  two  ;  beget 
Block-heads  to  continue  the  City-Breed.  A  Magistrate 
with  a  Golden  Chain  about  his  Neck  snores  Inordinately 
in  a  Coventicle  at  three.  Tradesmens  Wives  treat  their 
Children  in  the  Farthing  Pye-Houses  at  four.  Not  one 
Physitian  at  Church,  except  the  City-Bard,  within  the 
Bills  of  Mortality. 

TOM  BROWN 
Comical  View  of  London  and  Westminster  (169-) 


THE  COUNTRYMAN'S 

I  am  always  very  well  pleased  with  a  Country  Sunday ; 
and  think  if  keeping  holy  the  Seventh  Day  were  only  a 
human  Institution,  it  would  be  the  best  Method  that 
could  have  been  thought  of  for  the  polishing  and  civilizing 
of  Mankind.  It  is  certain  the  Country-People  would  soon 
degenerate  into  a  kind  of  Savages  and  Barbarians,  were 
there  not  such  frequent  Returns  of  a  stated  Time,  in 
which  the  whole  Village  meet  together  with  their  best 
Faces,  and  in  their  cleanliest  Habits,  to  converse  with  one 
another  upon  indifferent  subjects,  hear  their  Duties 
explained  to  them,  and  join  together  in  Adoration  of  the 
Supreme  Being.  Sunday  clears  away  the  Rust  of  the  whole 
Week,  not  only  as  it  refreshes  in  their  Minds  the  Notions 
of  Religion,  but  as  it  puts  both  the  Sexes  upon  appear- 
ing in  their  most  agreeable  Forms,  and  exerting  all 
such  Qualities  as  are  apt  to  give  them  a  Figure  in  the 
Eye  of  the  Village.  A  Country-Fellow  distinguishes 

665 


himself  as  much  in  the  Church-yard  as  a  Citizen  does 
upon  the  Change,  the  whole  Parish-Politicks  being 
generally  discussed  in  that  Place  either  after  Sermon  or 
before  the  Bell  rings. 

JOSEPH  ADDISON 

Spectator  (1711) 


THE  CLERGYMAN'S 

Thou  art  a  day  of  mirth  : 
And  where  the  week-dayes  trail  on  ground, 
Thy  flight  is  higher,  as  thy  birth. 
O,  let  me  take  thee  at  the  bound, 
Leaping  with  thee  from  sev'n  to  sev'n, 
Till  that  we  both,  being  toss'd  from  earth, 

Flie  hand  in  hand  to  heav'n  ! 

GEORGE   HERBERT 

Sunday.  From  The  Temple  (1633) 


Miss  HANNAH  MORE'S 

Thank  my  dear  Dr  S.  for  his  kind  and  seasonable  admoni- 
tions on  my  last  Sunday's  engagement  at  Mrs  Montagu's. 
Conscience  had  done  its  office  before ;  nay,  was  busy  at 
the  time  :  and  if  it  did  not  dash  my  cup  of  pleasure  to  the 
ground,  infused  at  least  a  tincture  of  wormwood  into  it. 
I  did  think  of  the  alarming  call,  "  What  doest  thou  here, 
Elijah  ?  "  .  .  . 

Perhaps  you  will  say  I  ought  to  have  thought  of  it 
666 


again  to-day,  when  I  tell  you  I  have  dined  abroad ;  but 
it  is  a  day  I  reflect  on  without  those  uneasy  sensations  one 
has  when  one  is  conscious  it  has  been  spent  in  trifling 
company.  I  have  been  at  Mrs  Boscawen's.  Mrs  Montagu, 
Mrs  Carter,  Mrs  Chapone,  and  myself  only  were  admitted. 
We  spent  the  time,  not  as  wits,  but  as  reasonable  creatures; 
better  characters,  I  trow.  The  conversation  was  sprightly 
but  serious.  I  have  not  enjoyed  an  afternoon  so  much 
since  I  have  been  in  town.  There  was  much  sterling  sense, 
and  they  are  all  ladies  of  high  character  for  piety ;  of 
which,  however,  I  do  not  think  their  visiting  on  Sundays 
any  proof :  for  though  their  conversation  is  edifying,  the 
example  is  bad. 

HANNAH  MORE 

Letter  to  her  Sister  (1775) 


MR  PEPYS'S 

Nov.  yd,  1661.  (Lord's  day.)  This  day  I  stirred  not  out,  but 
took  physique,  and  it  did  work  very  well,  and  all  the  day 
as  I  was  at  leisure  I  did  read  in  Fuller's  Holy  Warr,  which 
I  have  of  late  bought,  and  did  try  to  make  a  song  in  praise 
of  a  liberall  genius  (as  I  take  my  own  to  be)  to  all  studies 
and  pleasures,  but  it  not  proving  to  my  mind  I  did  reject 
it  and  so  proceeded  not  in  it.  At  night  my  wife  and  I 
had  a  good  supper  by  ourselves  of  a  pullet  hashed,  which 
pleased  me  much  to  see  my  condition  come  to  allow  our- 
selves a  dish  like  that,  and  so  at  night  to  bed. 

April  14, 1667.  (Lord's  day.)  Up,  and  to  read  a  little  in  my 
new  History  of  Turkey,  and  so  with  my  wife  to  church, 


and  then  home,  where  is  little  Michell  and  my  pretty  Betty 
and  also  Mercer,  and  very  merry.  A  good  dinner  of  roast 
beef.  After  dinner  I  away  to  take  water  at  the  Tower,  and 
thence  to  Westminster,  where  Mrs  Martin  was  not  at 
home.  So  to  White  Hall,  and  there  walked  up  and  down, 
and  among  other  things  visited  Sir  G.  Carteret,  and  much 
talk  with  him —  From  him  to  St  Margaret's  Church,  and 
there  spied  Martin,  and  home  with  her  .  .  .  but  fell  out  to 
see  her  expensefullness,  having  bought  Turkey  work, 
chairs,  etc.  By  and  by  away  home,  and  there  took  out  my 
wife  and  the  two  Mercers  and  two  of  our  maids,  Barker 
and  Jane,  and  over  the  water  to  Jamaica  House,  where  I 
never  was  before,  and  there  the  girls  did  run  for  wagers 
over  the  bowling-green ;  and  there  with  much  pleasure 
spent  little,  and  so  home,  and  they  home,  and  I  to  read 
with  satisfaction  in  my  book  of  Turkey,  and  so  to  bed. 

SAMUEL   PEPYS 

Diary 


DEVILISH  PASTIMES 

PHILOPONUS  :  The  Sabboth  daie  of  some  is  well  observed, 
namely,  in  hearing  the  blessed  worde  of  God  read, 
preached,  and  interpreted ;  in  private  and  publique 
praiers ;  in  singing  of  godly  psalmes ;  in  celebrating  the 
sacraments ;  and  in  collecting  for  the  poore  and  indigent, 
which  are  the  true  uses  and  endes  whereto  the  Sabbaoth 
was  ordained.  But  other  some  spend  the  Sabbaoth  day 
(for  the  most  parte)  in  frequenting  of  baudy  stage  plaies 
and  enterludes  ;  in  maintayning  lordes  of  misrule  (for  so 
they  call  a  certaine  kinde  of  plaie  which  they  use)  in  Maie 

668 


games,  church  ales,  feastes,  and  wakesses ;  in  pyping, 
dauncying,  dicyng,  carding,  bowlyng,  tenisse  playing  ; 
in  bear  baytyng,  cocke  fightyng,  hawkyng,  hunting,  and 
suche  like ;  in  keeping  of  fayres  and  markettes  on  the 
Sabbaoth  ;  in  keepyng  of  courtes  and  leetes  ;  in  foote  ball 
playing,  and  such  other  devilish  pastymes  ;  in  readyng  of 
lascivious  and  wanton  bookes,  and  an  infinite  number  of 
suche  like  practises  and  prophane  exercises  used  upon  that 
day,  whereby  the  Lorde  God  is  dishonoured,  his  Sabaoth 
violated,  his  word  neglected,  his  sacramentes  contemned, 
and  his  people  mervailously  corrupted,  and  caried  away 
from  true  vertue  and  godlines. 

SPUDEUS  :  You  will  be  deemed  too  too  stoicall,  if  you  should 
restraine  menne  from  those  exercises  uppon  the  Sab- 
baoth, for  they  suppose  that  that  day  was  ordained  and 
consecrate  to  that  ende  and  purpose,  onely  to  use  what 
kinde  of  exercises  they  thinke  good  themselves  ;  and  was 
it  not  so  ? 

PHILIP   STUBBES 

The  Anatomy  of  Abuses  (1583) 


A  LIVELY  SUNDAY 

PHILOPONUS  :  Firste,  all  the  wilde  heades  of  the  Parishe, 
conventyng  together,  chuse  them  a  Ground  Capitaine 
(of  mischeef),  whom  they  innoble  with  the  title  of  my 
Lorde  of  Misserule,  and  hym  they  crown  with  great 
solemnitie,  and  adopt  for  their  kyng.  This  kyng  anoynted, 
chuseth  for  the  twentie,  fourtie,  three  score,  or  a  hundred 
lustie  guttes  like  to  hymself  to  waite  uppon  his  lordely 
majestic,  and  to  guerde  his  noble  persone.  Then  every 

669 


one  of  these  his  menne  he  investeth  with  his  liveries  of 
greene,  yellowe,  or  some  other  light  wanton  colour. 
And  as  though  that  were  not  (baudie)  gaudy  enough,  I 
should  saie,  they  bedecke  themselves  with  scarffes, 
ribons,  and  laces,  hanged  all  over  with  golden  rynges, 
precious  stones,  and  other  jewelles  ;  this  doen,  they  tye 
about  either  legge  twentie  or  fourtie  belles,  with  riche 
hande-kercheefes,  in  their  handes,  and  somtymes  laied 
a  crosse  over  their  shoulders  and  neckes,  borrowed  for  the 
moste  parte  of  their  pretie  mopsies  and  loovyng  bessies, 
for  bussyng  them  in  the  darcke.  Thus  all  thinges  sette  in 
order,  then  have  they  their  Hobbie  horses,  Dragons,  and 
other  antiques,  together  with  their  baudie  pipers  and 
thunderyng  drommers,  to  strike  up  the  Devilles  Daunce 
withall ;  then  marche  these  heathen  companie  towardes  the 
churche  and  churcheyarde,  their  pipers  pipyng,  their 
drommers  thonderyng,  their  stumppes  dauncyng,  their 
belles  iynglyng,  their  handkerchefes  swyngyng  about 
their  heades  like  madmen,  their  Hobbie  horses  and  other 
monsters  skirmishyng  amongest  the  throng  ;  and  in  this 
sorte  they  goe  to  the  churche  (though  the  minister  bee 
at  praier  or  preachyng),  dauncyng  and  swingyng  their 
handkercheefes  over  their  heades,  in  the  churche,  like 
devilles  incarnate,  with  suche  a  confused  noise,  that  no 
man  can  heare  his  owne  voice.  Then  the  foolishe  people 
they  looke,  they  stare,  they  laugh,  they  fleere,  and  mount 
upon  formes  and  pewes,  to  see  these  goodly  pageauntes, 
solemnized  in  this  sort.  Then  after  this,  aboute  the 
churche  they  goe  againe  and  againe,  and  so  forthe  into 
the  churche-yarde,  where  they  have  commonly  their 
Sommer  halles,  their  bowers,  arbours,  and  banquetyng 
houses  set  up,  wherein  they  feaste,  banquet,  and  daunce 
all  that  daie,  and  (perad venture)  all  that  night  too.  And 

670 


thus  these  terrestrial  furies  spend  the  Sabbaoth  daie  !  .  .  . 
SPUDEUS  :  This  is  a  horrible  prophanation  of  the  Sabbaoth 
(the  Lorde  knoweth),  and  more  pestilent  then  pestilence 

it  self. 

Ibid. 


SECRET  BOWLS 


The  Puritan  faction  did  begin  to  increase  in  those  dayes 
and  especially  at  Emmanuel  College . . .  They  preached  up 
very  strict  keeping  and  observing  the  Lord's  day ;  made, 
upon  the  matter,  damnation  to  breake  it,  and  that  'twas 
lesse  sin  to  kill  a  man.  .  .  .  Yet  these  hypocrites  did  bowle 
in  a  private  green  at  their  colledge  every  Sunday  after 
sermon. 

JOHN   AUBREY 

Brief  Lives  :  Lancelot  Andrewes 
(c.  1680) 


A  CHEERFUL  SHROPSHIRE  VILLAGE 


In  the  Village  he  liv'd  in,  not  a  Sermon  was  to  be  heard 
from  Year  to  Year.  And  the  Service  was  run  over  very 
Cursorily  and  Irreverently  ;  and  when  that  was  done,  the 
rest  of  the  Lord's  Day  was  profanely  spent  by  the  whole 
Town  in  Dancing  under  a  May-Pole,  and  a  great  Tree. 

EDMUND   CALAMY 

Abridgement  of  Mr.  Baxter's  History  of  his  Life  and 

Times  (1702) 
671 


FOOD  AND  REST 

That  Luxury  and  Excess  men  usually  practise  upon  this 
Day  . . .  dividing  the  time  between  God  and  their  Bellies, 
when,  after  a  gluttonous  meal,  their  senses  dozed  and 
stupefied,  they  retire  to  God's-  House  to  sleep  out  the 
Afternoon. 

JONATHAN  SWIFT 

Sermon  upon  Sleeping  in  Church 


TAKING  UMBRAGE 


A  GOD  is  OFFENDED 


What  is  that  Land,  says  he,  the  Waves  embrace  ? 
(And  with  his  Finger  pointed  at  the  Place ;) 
Is  it  one  parted  Isle  which  stands  alone  ? 
How  nam'd  ?  and  yet  methinks  it  seems  not  one. 
To  whom  the  watry  God  made  this  Reply  ; 
'Tis  not  one  Isle,  but  five ;  distinct  they  lie ; 
'Tis  Distance  which  deceives  the  cheated  Eye. 
But  that  Diana's  Act  may  seem  less  strange, 
These  once  proud  Naiads  were,  before  their  Change. 
'Twas  on  a  Day  more  solemn  than  the  rest. 
Ten  Bullocks  slain,  a  sacrificial  Feast : 

672 


The  rural  Gods  of  all  the  Region  near 

They  bid  to  dance,  and  taste  the  hallow'd  Cheer. 

Me  they  forgot :  Affronted  with  the  Slight, 

My  Rage,  and  Stream  swell'd  to  the  greatest  Height ; 

And  with  the  Torrent  of  my  flooding  Store, 

Large  Woods  from  Woods,  and  Fields  from  Fields 

I  tore. 

The  guilty  Nymphs,  Oh  !  them  rememb'ring  me, 
I,  with  their  Country,  wash'd  into  the  Sea  : 
And  joining  Waters  with  the  social  Main, 
Rent  the  gross  Land,  and  spit  the  firm  Champagne. 
Since,  the  Echinades,  remote  from  Shore 
Are  view'd  as  many  Isles,  as  Nymphs  before. 

OVID 

Metamorphoses  (c.  5  B.C.) 
Trans.  Mr.  Vernon  (1717  ?) 


THRIFT 


THE  PROVIDENT  INDIAN 

The  Orenoqueponi  bury  not  their  wives  with  them,  but 
their  jewels,  hoping  to  in  joy  them  againe. 

SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH 
The  Discoverie  of  Guiana  (1596) 
XP  673 


A  CHEAP  EVENING 

Here  I  met  with  Osborne  and  with  Shaw  and  Spicer,  and 
we  went  to  the  Sun  Tavern  in  expectation  of  a  dinner  . .  . 
at  which  we  were  very  merry,  while  in  came  Mr.  Wade 
and  his  friend  Capt.  Moyse  .  .  .  and  here  we  staid  till 
seven  at  night.  ...  I  by  having  but  3d  in  my  pocket  made 
shift  to  spend  no  more,  whereas  if  I  had  had  more  I  had 
spent  more  as  the  rest  did,  so  that  I  see  it  is  an  advantage 
to  a  man  to  carry  little  in  his  pocket. 

SAMUEL  PEPYS 

Diary  (Feb.  17,  1660) 


AFTER  CHRISTMAS 


This  night  making  an  end  wholly  of  Christmas,  with  a 
mind  full  satisfied  with  the  great  pleasures  we  have  had 
by  being  abroad  from  home,  and  I  do  find  my  mind  so  apt 
to  run  to  its  old  want  of  pleasures,  that  it  is  high  time  to 
betake  myself  to  my  late  vows,  which  I  will  to-morrow, 
God  willing,  perfect  and  bind  myself  to,  that  so  I  may,  for 
a  great  while,  do  my  duty,  as  I  have  well  begun,  and  in- 
crease my  good  name  and  esteem  in  the  world,  and  get 
money,  which  sweetens  all  things,  and  whereof  I  have 
much  need.  So  home  to  supper  and  to  bed,  blessing  God 
for  his  mercy  to  bring  me  home,  after  much  pleasure,  to 
my  house  and  business  with  health  and  resolution  to 
fall  hard  to  work  again. 

Ibid. 

(Twelfth  Day,  1663) 
674 


WASTE  OF  HONEY 

The  Athenians  might  fairly  except  against  the  practise  of 
Democritus  to  be  buried  up  in  honey ;  as  fearing  to 
embezzle  a  great  commodity  of  their  Countrey,  and  the 
best  of  that  kinde  in  Europe. 

SIR   THOMAS   BROWNE 

Hydrotaphia  (1658) 


THE  PARSIMONIOUS  MAN 

When  hee  returnes  from  his  field,  he  asks,  not  without 
rage,  what  became  of  the  loose  crust  in  his  cupboard,  and 
who  hath  rioted  among  his  leekes  ?  He  never  eats  good 
meals,  but  on  his  neighbors  trencher.  .  .  .  Once  in  a  yeere 
perhaps,  he  gives  himselfe  leave  to  feast ;  . . .  and  when  his 
guests  are  parted,  talkes  how  much  every  man  devoured, 
and  how  many  cups  were  emptied,  and  feeds  his  familie 
with  the  moldie  remnants  a  moneth  after.  ...  In  his 
short  and  unquiet  sleepes  hee  dreamcs  of  theeves,  and 
runnes  to  the  dore. 

JOSEPH   HALL 

Characters  of  Vertues  and  Vices  (1608) 


675 


TRAVEL 


To  LIE  IN  DIVERSE  INNS 

For  Peregrination  charmes  our  senses  with  such  unspeak- 
able and  sweet  variety,  that  some  count  him  unhappy  that 
never  travelled,  a  kinde  of  prisoner,  and  pitty  his  case  that 
from  his  cradle  to  his  old  age  beholds  the  same  still ; 
still,  still,  the  same,  the  same  :  insomuch  that  Rhasis  .  .  . 
doth  not  only  commend  but  enjoyne  travell,  and  such 
variety  of  objects,  to  a  melancholy  man,  and  to  lie  in 
diverse  Innes,  to  bee  drawne  into  sever  all  companies.  .  .  . 

He  that  should  be  admitted  on  a  sudden  to  the  sight  of 
such  a  Palace  as  that  ofEscuriall  in  Spaine,  or  to  that  which 
the  Moores  built  at  Granada,  Fontainebleau  in  France,  the 
Turkes  gardens  in  his  Seraglio,  wherein  all  manner  of  birds 
and  beasts  are  kept  for  pleasure,  Wolves,  Beares,  Lynces, 
Tigers,  Lyons,  Elephants,  &c.  .  .  .  the  Pope's  Belvedere  in 
Rome  ...  or  that  Indian  King's  delightsome  garden  in 
/Elian  .  .  .  could  not  choose  .  .  .  but  be  much  recreated 
for  the  time. ...  To  take  a  boat  in  a  pleasant  evening,  and 
with  musicke  to  rowe  upon  the  waters,  which  Plutarch 
so  much  applaudes,  /Elian  admires  upon  the  river  Peneus> 
in  those  Thessalian  fields  beset  with  greene  Baycs,  where 
Birds  so  sweetly  sing  that  passengers,  enchanted  as  it 

676 


were  with  their  heavenly  musicke,  .  .  .  forget  forthwith  all 
labours,  cares,  and  griefe  :  or  in  a  Gundilo  through  the 
grand  Canale  in  Venice^  to  see  those  goodly  Palaces,  must 
needs  refresh  and  give  content  to  a  melancholy  dull  spirit. 

ROBERT   BURTON 

The  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  (1621.  Edition  1632) 


OFF  TO  THE  BERMUDAS 

Where  the  remote  Bermudas  ride 
In  th'  Oceans  bosome  unespy'd 
From  a  small  Boat,  that  row'd  along, 
The  listning  Winds  receiv'd  this  Song. 

"  What  should  we  do  but  sing  his  Praise 
That  led  us  through  the  watry  Maze, 
Unto  an  Isle  so  long  unknown, 
And  yet  far  kinder  than  our  own  ? 
Where  he  the  huge  Sea-Monsters  wracks, 
That  lift  the  Deep  upon  their  Backs. 
He  lands  us  on  a  grassy  Stage  ; 
Safe  from  the  Storms,  and  Prelat's  rage. 
He  gave  us  this  eternal  Spring, 
Which  here  enamells  every  thing ; 
And  sends  the  Fowl's  to  us  in  care, 
On  daily  Visits  through  the  Air. 
He  hangs  in  shades  the  Orange  bright, 
Like  golden  Lamps  in  a  green  Night. 
And  does  in  the  Pomegranates  close, 
Jewels  more  rich  than  Ormus  show's. 

677 


He  makes  the  Figs  our  mouths  to  meet ; 
And  throws  the  Melons  at  our  feet. 
But  Apples  plants  of  such  a  price. 
No  Tree  could  ever  bear  them  twice. 
With  Cedars,  chosen  by  his  hand. 
From  Lebanon  he  stores  the  Land. 
And  makes  the  hollow  Seas,  that  roar, 
Proclaime  the  Ambergris  on  shoar. 
He  cast  (of  which  we  rather  boast) 
The  Gospels  Pearl  upon  our  Coast. 
And  in  these  Rocks  for  us  did  frame 
A  Temple,  where  to  sound  his  Name. 
O  let  our  Voice  his  Praise  exalt, 
Till  it  arrive  at  Heavens  Vault : 
Which  thence  (perhaps)  rebounding,  may 
Eccho  beyond  the  Mexique  Bay" 

Thus  sang  they  in  the  English  boat, 
An  holy  and  a  chearfiil  Note, 
And  all  the  way,  to  guide  their  Chime, 
With  falling  Oars  they  kept  the  time. 

ANDREW  MARVELL 

Bermudas  (pub  :  1681) 


SEEING  THE  CONTINENT 

Towards  Venice  we  progrest,  and  tooke  Roterdam  in  our 
waie,  that  was  cleane  out  of  our  waie,  there  we  met  with 
aged  learnings  chiefe  ornament,  that  abundant  and  super- 
ingenious  clarke  Erasmus,  as  also  with  merrie  Sir  Thomas 

678 


Moore  our  Countriman,  who  was  come  purposely  over 
a  little  before  us,  to  visite  the  said  grave  father  Erasmus  : 
what  talke,  what  conference  wee  had  then,  it  were  here 
superfluous  to  rehearse.  .  .  . 

So  we  left  them  to  prosecute  their  discontented  studies, 
and  make  our  next  journey  to  Wittenberg.  .  .  . 

To  the  Emperours  court  wee  came,  where  our  enter- 
tainment was  every  way  plentiful,  carouses  we  had  in 
whole  galons  in  sted  of  quart  pots.  Not  a  health  was  given 
us  but  contained  well  neere  a  hogshead.  The  customes  of 
the  countrie  we  were  eager  to  bee  instructed  in,  but 
nothing  wee  coulde  learne  but  this,  that  ever  at  the  Em- 
perours coronation  there  is  an  oxe  roasted  with  a  stag  in 
the  belly,  and  that  stag  in  his  belly  hath  a  kid,  and  that  kid 
is  stufte  full  of  birds.  Some  courtiers  to  wearie  out  time, 
would  tell  us  further  tales  of  Cornelius  Agrippa>  and  howe 
when  Sir  Thomas  Moore  our  countryman  was  there,  he 
shewed  him  the  whole  destruction  of  Troy  in  a  dreame. 
How  the  Lord  Cromwell  being  the  kings  Embassador 
there,  in  like  case  in  a  perspective  glasse  hee  set  before 
his  eyes  king  Henrie  the  eight,  with  all  his  Lordes  on 
hunting  in  his  forrest  at  Windsore.  .  .  . 

Though  the  Emperours  court,  and  the  extraordianarie 
edifiing  com  panic  of  Cornelius  Agrippa  might  have  bin 
argumentes  of  waight  to  have  arrested  us  a  little  longer 
there,  yet  Italy  still  stuck  as  a  great  moate  in  my  masters 
eie,  he  thought  he  had  travelled  no  further  than  Wales, 
till  he  had  tooke  survey  of  that  countrie  which  was  such 
a  curious  molder  of  wits. 

To  cut  off  blind  ambages  by  the  high  way  side,  we  made 
a  long  stride  and  got  to  Venice  in  short  time. 

THOMAS   NASHE 

The  Unfortunate  Traveller  (1594) 
679 


DESIRE  FOR  A  CHANGE 

Travellers  gain  Rest,  but  by  coining  Home, 
Men  at  Home  mope,  till  that  Abroad  they  come  ; 
Thus  is  Love  of  Variety,  Man's  curse, 
Which  us  to  such  a  Love  of  Change  does  force. 

WILLIAM   WYCHERLEY 

The  World  UnmasVd  (1704) 


COACHING  AT  THE  HAGUE 

Mr  Creed  and  I  went  in  the  fore  part  of  a  coach  wherein 
were  two  very  pretty  ladies,  very  fashionable  and  with 
black  patches,  who  very  merrily  sang  all  the  way  and  that 
very  well,  and  were  very  free  to  kiss  the  two  blades  that 
were  with  them.  I  took  out  my  flageolette  and  piped. 

SAMUEL  PEPYS 

Diary  (May  14,  1660) 


WALPOLE  IN  THE  ALPS 

We  were  eight  days  in  coming  hither  from  Lyons ;  the 
four  last  in  crossing  the  Alps.  Such  uncouth  rocks,  and 
such  uncomely  inhabitants !  My  dear  West,  I  hope  I  shall 
never  see  them  again !  At  the  foot  of  Mount  Cenis  we  were 
obliged  to  quit  our  chaise,  which  was  taken  all  to  pieces 
and  loaded  on  mules ;  and  we  were  carried  in  low  arm- 
chairs on  poles,  swathed  in  beaver  bonnets,  beaver  gloves, 

680 


beaver  stockings,  muffs  and  bear-skins.  When  we  came  to 
the  top,  behold  the  snows  fallen !  and  such  quantities,  and 
conducted  by  such  heavy  clouds  that  hung  glouting,  that 
I  thought  we  could  have  never  have  waded  through  them. 

The  descent  is  two  leagues,  but  steep  and  rough  as  O 's 

father's  face,  over  which,  you  know,  the  devil  walked  with 
hobnails  in  his  shoes.  But  the  dexterity  and  nimbleness  of 
the  mountaineers  are  inconceivable  :  they  run  with  you 
down  steeps  and  frozen  precipices,  where  no  man,  as  men 
are  now,  could  possibly  walk.  We  had  twelve  men  and  nine 
mules  to  carry  us,  our  servants  and  baggages,  and  were 
above  five  hours  in  this  agreeable  jaunt ! 

HORACE  WALPOLE 

Letter  to  Richard  West  from  Turin  (1739) 


COASTING  DOWN  THE  RIVIERA 

We  lay  at  Canes,  which  is  a  small  port  on  the  Mediter- 
ranean ;  here  we  agreed  with  a  seaman  to  carry  us  to 
Genoa,  and  .  .  .  embarqed  on  the  I2th.  .  .  .  We  coasted 
within  two  leagues  of  Antibes,  which  is  the  utmost  towne 
in  France.  Thence  by  Nice,  a  citty  in  Savoy,  built  all  of 
brick,  which  gives  it  a  very  pleasant  appearance  towards 
the  sea  ... 

We  sailed  by  Mentone  and  Ventimiglia,  being  the  first 
citty  of  the  Republiq  of  Genoa  ;  supped  at  Oneglia,  where 
we  anker'd  and  lay  on  ashore.  The  next  morning  we 
coasted  in  view  of  the  Isle  of  Corsica,  and  St  Remo,  where 
the  shore  is  furnished  with  evergreens,  oranges,  citrons, 
and  date-trees  .  .  .  The  next  morning  by  Diano,  Araisso, 
famous  for  the  best  corall  fishing,  growing  in  aboundance 

68 1 


on  the  rocks,  deep  and  continually  covered  by  sea.  By  Al- 
bengo  and  Finale,  a  very  faire  and  strong  towne,  belonging 
to  the  King  of  Spayne,  for  which  reason  a  monsieur  in 
our  vessell  was  extreamely  afraide,  as  was  the  patron  of 
our  barke,  for  they  frequently  catch  French  prizes  as  they 
creepe  by  these  shores  to  go  into  Italy  ;  he  therefore  ply'd 
both  sayles  and  oars,  to  get  under  the  protection  of  a 
Genoese  gaily  that  pass'd  not  far  before  us,  in  whose 
company  we  sayPd  as  far  as  the  Cape  of  Savona,  a  towne 
built  at  the  rise  of  the  Appenines  :  for  all  this  coast  (except 
a  little  of  St  Remo)  is  a  high  and  steepe  mountainous 
grounde,  consisting  all  of  rock-marble,  without  any  grasse, 
tree,  or  rivage,  formidable  to  look  on  ...  The  rock  con- 
sist of  all  sorts  of  the  most  precious  marbles. 

Here,  on  the  I5th,  forsaking  our  gaily,  we  encountered 
a  little  foule  weather,  which  made  us  creepe  terra,  terra, 
as  they  call  it  ...  but  our  patron,  striving  to  double  the 
point  of  Savona,  making  out  into  the  wind  put  us  into 
greate  hazard ;  for  blowing  very  hard  from  land  betwixt 
those  horrid  gapps  of  the  mountaines,  it  set  so  violently, 
as  rais'd  on  the  suddaine  so  great  a  sea  that  we  could  not 
recover  the  weather  shore  for  many  houres,  insomuch 
that,  what  with  the  water  already  enter'd,  and  the  confu- 
sion of  fearful  passengers  (of  which  one  who  was  an  Irish 
bishop,  and  his  brother,  a  priest,  were  confessing  some  as 
at  the  article  of  death)  we  were  almost  abandoned  to 
despaire,  our  pilot  himselfe  giving  us  up  for  lost.  And 
now,  as  we  were  weary  with  pumping  and  laving  out  the 
water,  almost  sinking,  it  plcas'd  God  on  the  suddaine  to 
appease  the  wind,  and  with  much  ado  and  greate  perill 
we  recovered  the  shore,  which  we  now  kept  in  view. 

JOHN  EVELYN 

Diary  (October  1644) 
682 


IN  ITALY 

Jan.  29,  1645.  .  .  .  The  Via  Appia  is  here  a  noble  pros- 
pect ;  having  before  consider'd  how  it  was  carried  through 
vast  mountaines  of  rocks  for  many  miles,  by  most  stupen- 
dious  labor :  here  it  is  infinitely  pleasant,  beset  with 
sepulchres  and  antiquities,  full  of  sweete  shrubbs  in  the 
invironing  hedges.  At  Fondi,  we  had  oranges  and  citrons 
for  nothing,  the  trees  growing  in  every  corner,  charged 
with  fruite. 

We  descried  Mount  Caeculus,  famous  for  the  generous 
wine  it  heretofore  produc'd,  and  so  rid  onward  the  Appian 
Way,  beset  with  myrtils,  lentiscus,  bayes,  pomegranads, 
and  whole  groves  of  orange-trees,  and  most  delicious 
shrubbs,  till  we  came  to  Formiana,  where  they  shewed  us 
Cicero's  Tomb,  standing  in  an  olive  grove;  for  here  that 
incomparable  orator  was  murther'd.  I  shall  never  forget 
how  exceedingly  I  was  delighted  with  the  sweetnesse  of 
this  passage,  the  sepulchre  mixed  with  all  sorts  of  ver- 
dure ;  besides  being  now  come  within  sight  of  the  noble 
citty,  Cajeta,  which  gives  a  surprizing  prospect  along  the 
Tyrrhen  Sea,  in  manner  of  a  theatre.  .  .  . 

Feb.  8.  Now  we  enter 'd  the  haven  of  the  Baiae,  where 
once  stood  that  famous  towne,  so  called  from  the  com- 
panion of  Ulysses  here  buried  ;  not  without  greate  reason 
celebrated  for  one  of  the  most  delicious  places  that  the 
sunn  shines  on,  according  to  that  of  Horace  : 

Nullus  in  Orbe  locus  Baiis  praelucet  amoenis. 

Though,  as  to  the  stately  fabrics,  there  now  remaine 
little  save  the  ruines,  whereof  the  most  entire  is  that  of 
Diana's  Temple,  and  another  of  Venus.  Here  were  those 

683 


famous  pooles  of  lampreys  that  would  come  to  hand 
when  called  by  name,  as  Martial  tells  us.  On  the  sum'ite  of 
the  rock  stands  a  strong  castle  garrisoned  to  protect  the 
shore  from  Turkish  pyrates.  ...  It  was  once  the 
retiring  place  of  Julius  Ceasar.  .  .  . 

Returning  toward  the  Baiae,  we  again  pass  the  Elyssian 
Fields,  so  celebrated  by  the  poetes,  nor  unworthily,  for 
their  situation  and  verdure,  being  full  of  myrtils  and 
sweete  shrubbs,  and  having  a  most  delightful  prospect 
toward  the  Tyrrhen  Sea.  .  .  . 

Having  well  satisfied  our  curiosity  among  these 
antiquities,  we  retired  to  our  felucca,  which  rowed  us  back 
againe  towards  Pozzolo,  at  the  very  place  of  St  Paule's 
landing.  Keeping  along  the  shore,  they  shewed  us  a  place 
where  the  sea  water  and  sands  did  exceedingly  boyle. 
Thence,  to  the  island  Nesis,  once  the  fabulous  Nymph  ; 
and  thus  we  leave  the  Baiae,  so  renowned  for  the  sweete 
retirements  of  the  most  opulent  and  voluptuous  Romans. 
They  certainly  were  places  of  uncommon  amoenitie,  as 
their  yet  tempting  site,  and  other  circumstances  of  natural 
curiosities,  easily  invite  me  to  believe,  since  there  is  not 
in  the  world  so  many  stupendious  rarities  to  be  met  with, 
as  in  the  circle  of  a  few  miles  which  environ  these  blissfull 
aboades. 

Ibid. 


HUSBAND-HUNTING  IN  THE  INDIES 

LUCIA  :  What  will  this  come  to  ?  What  can  it  end  in  ? 
You  have  persuaded  me  to  leave  dear  England,  and  dearer 
London^  the  place  of  the  World  most  worth  living  in,  to 

684 


follow  you  a  Husband-hunting  into  America  :  I  thought 
Husbands  grew  in  these  Plantations. 
CHARLOTTE  :  Why,  so  they  do,  as  thick  as   Oranges, 
ripening  one  under  another.  Week  after  week  they  drop 
into  some  Woman's  mouth  :  'Tis  but  a  little  patience, 
spreading  your  Apron  in  expectation,  and  one  of  'em 
will  fall  into  your  Lap  at  last. 
LUCIA  :  Ay,  so  you  say  indeed. 

THOMAS  SOUTHERNE 

Oroonoko  (1696) 


A  TRAVELLER'S  PRIVILEGE 

You  must  allow  him  the  Priviledge  of  a  Travelleur,  and  he 
dos  not  abuse  it,  his  lyes  are  as  pleasant  harmlesse  on's  as 
lyes  can  bee,  and  in  noe  great  number  considering  the 
scope  hee  has  for  them  ;  there  is  one  in  Dublin  now  that 
ne're  saw  much  further,  has  tolde  mee  twice  as  many 
(I  dare  swear)  of  Ireland. 

DOROTHY   OSBORNE 

Letter  to  Sir  William  Temple  (1654) 


BIRDS  AND  FRUIT  IN  GUIANA 


On  the  banks  of  these  rivers  were  divers  sorts  of  fruits 
good  to  eate,  flowers  and  trees  of  that  varietie  as  were 
sufficient  to  make  ten  volumes  of  herbals,  we  releeved  our 
selves  manie  times  with  the  fruits  of  the  countrey,  and 

685 


sometimes  with  foule  and  fish:  we  sawe  birds  of  all 
colours,  some  carnation,  some  crimson,  orange  tawny, 
purple,  greene,  watched,  and  of  all  other  sorts  both 
simple  and  mixt,  as  it  was  unto  us  a  great  good  passing 
of  the  time  to  beholde  them,  besides  the  reliefe  we  found 
by  killing  some  store  of  them  with  our  fouling  pieces. 

SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH 

The  Discoverie  of  Guiana  (1596) 


A  COACH  TO  ONE'S  SELF 

The  coache  was  gone  before  I  came  .  .  .  But  being  sett  on 
my  journy  I  hired  a  whole  Coache  to  my  selfe  which  cost 
me  4£,  but  it  was  the  best  bestowed  money  . .  .  that  ever  I 
layd  out,  for  the  ayre  being  cool  and  fresh,  and  the  coach 
to  be  opened  before  as  well  as  on  the  sydes,  I  quaff' d 
off  whole  coachfulls  of  fresh  ayr,  without  the  pollution  or 
the  interruption  of  the  (?)  of  any  person.  This  had  been 
an  exceeding  pleasant  journy  had  not  the  remembrance 
of  the  misfortunes  of  some  near  relations  of  mine  inter- 
mixt  my  wine  with  wormwood.  But  however  I  have  most 
firmly  concluded  againe  to  my  self  in  this  ayry  journy  two 
of  the  main  Theories  of  my  Enchiridium  Metaphysicum. 

HENRY   MORE 

Letter  to  Lady  Conway  (1671) 


686 


TAPESTRY  ANIMALS 


....  The  testimonies  you  give,  and  which  I  well  recollect, 
of  the  juvenile  huntings  of  the  great  Prince  of  Tuscany, 
and  the  slaughter  he  used  to  make  of  game  in  tapestry. . .  . 
It  was  Ferdinand  who,  on  going  out  of  the  drawingroom, 
always  made  an  effort,  or  at  least  motion  with  his  leg, 
that  indicated  a  temptation  to  mount  a  horse  in  tapestry 
that  hung  near  the  door.  It  may,  indeed,  be  a  disorder  in 
the  family,  and  it  may  run  in  the  blood  to  have  an  itch 
after  tapestry  animals.  I  am  sure  I  wish  I  had  a  rage  for 
riding  and  shooting  my  furniture,  by  a  genealogic  dis- 
order, instead  of  the  gout.  HORACE  WALPOLE 
Letter  to  Sir  Horace  Mann  (1770) 


TAVERNS 


THE  THRONE  OF  FELICITY 

I  have  heard  him  assert,  that  a  tavern-chair  was  the  throne 
of  human  felicity. — "  As  soon,"  said  he,  "  as  I  enter 
the  door  of  a  tavern,  I  experience  an  oblivion  of  care,  and 

687 


a  freedom  from  solicitude  :  when  I  am  seated,  I  find  the 
master  courteous,  and  the  servants  obsequious  to  my  call ; 
anxious  to  know  and  ready  to  supply  my  wants :  wine  there 
exhilarates  my  spirits,  and  prompts  me  to  free  conversa- 
tion and  an  interchange  of  discourse  ...  I  dogmatize  and 
am  contradicted,  and  in  this  conflict  of  opinions  and 
sentiments  I  find  delight." 

SIR  JOHN   HAWKINS 

Life  of  Johnson  (1787) 


WILLS  COFFEE-HOUSE 


Would  to  God  I  could  laugh  with  you  for  one  hour  or  two 
at  all  the  ridiculous  things  that  have  happen'd  at  Wills 
Coffee-House  since  I  left  it.  'Tis  the  merriest  place  in  the 
World.  Like  Africa,  every  day  it  produces  a  Monster. 

WALTER  MOYLE 

Letter  to  William  Congreve  (1695) 


OVER  A  POT  &c. 


Some  mens  whole  delight  is  to  take  Tobacco,  and  drinke 
day  long  in  a  Taverne  or  Ale-house,  to  discourse,  sing,  all 
jest,  roare,  talk  of  a  Cock  and  a  Bull  over  a  pot  &c. 

ROBERT  BURTON 

The  Anatomy  of  Melancholy 
(1621.  Edition  1632) 
688 


THE  LOVING  CUP 

At  Danby  Wisk,  in  the  north  riding  of  Yorkshire,  it  is  the 
custom  for  the  parishioners,  after  receiving  the  Sacrament, 
to  goe  from  church  directly  to  the  ale-house,  and  there 
drink  together,  as  a  testimony  of  charity  and  friendship. 

JOHN  AUBREY 

Remains  of  Gentilism  and  Judaism 

(1687) 


VANITY 


HAPPINESS 

But  what  ?  A  Sot  cannot  help  his  Vanity.  Agreed  :  But 
then  it  makes  him  so  much  happier  than  he  deserves  to  be 
that  he  may  well  be  contented  to  pay  for  it. 

JOHN  DENNIS 

Letter  to  Walter  Moyle 
(pub.  1696) 


689 


VIRTUE 


CHASTITY 

ELDER  BROTHER  : 

Vertue  could  see  to  do  what  vertue  would 

By  her  own  radiant  light,  though  Sun  and  Moon 

Were  in  the  flat  Sea  sunk.  .  .  . 

'Tis  chastity,  my  brother,  chastity  : 

She  that  has  that,  is  clad  in  compleat  steel, 

And  like  a  quiver'd  Nymph  with  Arrows  keen 

May  trace  huge  Forrests,  and  unharbour'd  Heaths, 

Infamous  Hills,  and  sandy  perilous  wildes,  .  .  . 

Som  say  no  evil  thing  that  walks  by  night 

In  fog,  or  fire,  by  lake,  or  moorish  fen,  .... 

Hath  hurtfull  power  o're  true  Virginity.  .  .  . 

Hence  had  the  huntress  Dian  her  dred  bow 

Fair  silver-shafted  Queen  for  ever  chaste, 

Wherewith  she  tam'd  the  brindled  lioness 

And  spotted  mountain  pard,  .  .  . 

So  dear  to  Heav'n  is  Saintly  chastity, 

That  when  a  soul  is  found  sincerely  so, 

A  thousand  liveried  Angels  lacky  her, 

Driving  far  off  each  thing  of  sin  and  guilt. 

And  in  cleer  dream,  and  solemn  vision 

Tell  her  of  things  that  no  gross  ear  can  hear. 

JOHN   MILTON,  ComUS  (1634) 

690 


SPIRIT  : 

Mortals  that  would  follow  me, 
Love  vertue,  she  alone  free. 
She  can  teach  ye  how  to  clime 
Higher  then  the  Spheary  chime  ; 
Or  if  Vertue  feeble  were, 
Heav'n  it  self  would  stoop  to  her. 

Ibid. 


UNSELFISHNESS 

I  only  feel  persecution  bitterly  because  I  bitterly  lament 
the  depravity  and  mistake  of  those  who  persecute. 

PERCY  BYSSHE  SHELLEY 

Letter  to  Lord  Byron  (1817) 


NOT  SPEAKING  AGAINST  PEOPLE 


It  is  a  principle  with  me  never  to  give  others  to  under- 
stand any  thing  against  an  acquaintance,  not  only  which 
I  would  not  give,  but  which  I  have  not  given  himself  to 
understand ;  a  principle  to  which  this  book  will  have 
furnished  no  exception.  It  may  be  judged  by  this,  how 
little  I  have  been  in  the  habit  of  speaking  against  any 
body,  and  what  a  nuisance  it  is  to  me  to  do  it  now. 

LEIGH   HUNT 

Lord  Byron  and  some  of  his  Contemporaries 

(1828) 
691 


A  VIRTUOUS  MATRON 

All  nobilitie 

(But  pride,  that  schisme  of  incivilitie) 
She  had,  and  it  became  her  !  she  was  fit 
T'have  knowne  no  envy,  but  by  suffring  it ! 
She  had  a  mind  as  calme,  as  she  was  faire  ; 
Not  tost  or  troubled  with  light  Lady-aire  : 
But  kept  an  even  gate,  as  some  streight  tree 
Mov'd  by  the  wind,  so  comely  moved  she. 
And  by  the  awfull  manage  of  her  Eye 
She  swaied  all  bus'nesse  in  the  Familie. 
To  one  she  said,  Doe  this,  he  did  it ;  So 
To  another,  Move  :  he  went ;  to  a  third,  Go, 
He  run,  and  all  did  strive  with  diligence 
T'obey,  and  serve  her  sweet  Commandements. 
She  was  in  one,  a  many  parts  of  life  ; 
A  tender  Mother,  a  discreeter  Wife, 
A  solemne  Mistresse,  and  so  good  a  Friend, 
So  charitable,  to  religious  end 
In  all  her  petite  actions,  so  devote 
As  her  whole  life  was  now  become  one  note 
Of  Pietie,  and  private  holinesse. 

BEN  JONSON 

Eupheme,  or  the  Faire  Fame  of  that  truly-noble  Lady, 
the  Lady  Venetia  Digby  (1633  ?) 


RESISTING  TEMPTATION 

Thence  I  home  ;  but  Lord  !  how  it  went  against  my  heart 
to  go  away  from  the  very  door  of  the  Duke's  play-house, 

692 


and  my  Lady  Castlemayne's  coach,  and  many  great 
coaches  there,  to  see  "  The  Siege  of  Rhodes."  I  was 
very  near  making  a  forfeit,  but  I  did  command  myself, 
and  so  home  to  my  office,  and  there  did  much  business 
to  my  good  content,  much  better  than  going  to  a  play,  and 
then  home  to  my  wife,  who  is  not  well  with  her  cold,  and 
sat  and  read  a  piece  of  Grand  Cyrus  in  English  by  her, 
and  then  to  my  chamber  and  to  supper,  and  so  to  bed. 

SAMUEL  PEPYS 

Diary  (May  2ist,  1667) 


ITS  REWARDS 

And  now  his  life  was  a  Shining  light  among  his  old 
friends  :  now  he  gave  an  ocular  testimony  of  the  strictness 
and  regularity  of  it ; 

Nor  did  he  preach  onely,  but  as  S.  Paul  advised  his 
Corinthians  to  be  followers  of  him  as  he  was  of  Christ ; 
so  he  also  was  an  ocular  direction  to  them  by  a  holy  and 
harmlesse  conversation. 

Their  love  to  him  was  expresst  many  wayes  ;  for 
(besides  the  faire  lodgings  that  were  provided  and 
furnisht  for  him)  other  curtesies  were  daily  accumulated, 
so  many,  and  so  freely,  as  though  they  meant  their 
gratitude  (if  possible)  should  exceed,  or  at  least  equall  his 
merits.  In  this  love-strife  of  desert  and  liberality,  they 
continued  for  the  space  of  three  yeares  ;  he  constantly  and 
faithfully  preaching,  they  liberally  requiting  him. 

IZAAK  WALTON 

The  Life  and  Death  of  Dr.  Donne 
(1640  and  1670  editions) 
693 


VISITS 


ENTERTAINING  JULIUS  CAESAR 

O,  I  don't  repent  my  heavy-weight  guest !  For  it  went  very 
pleasantly.  But  when  he  arrived  at  Philippus's  on  the 
second  evening  of  the  Saturnalia,  the  villa  was  so  full  of 
soldiers  that  there  was  scarcely  a  dining-room  empty  for 
Cassar  himself  to  sup  in  :  two  thousand  men,  forsooth  ! . . . 
On  the  third  day  of  the  Saturnalia  he  stayed  with  Philippus 
till  one  o'clock,  and  admitted  no  one  ;  doing  accounts,  I 
think,  with  Balbus.  Then  he  walked  on  the  shore.  After 
two,  the  bath.  He  was  annointed,  and  took  his  place  at  the 
table.  He  was  taking  emetics,  so  he  ate  and  drank  freely  and 
boldly,  and  the  dinner  was  not  only  very  splendid  and 
sumptuous,  but 

"  well  cooked, 
And  seasoned  with  good  talk,  indeed,  quite  gay." 

Further,  his  attendants  were  entertained  very  lavishly  in 
three  diningrooms.  The  freedmen  of  lower  grade  and  the 
slaves  lacked  nothing.  But  the  upper  ranks  were  enter- 
tained most  elegantly.  In  short,  we  were  seen  to  be  men 
of  the  world.  But  he  is  not  a  guest  to  whom  one  would 
say,  "  Please  come  again  on  your  way  back."  Once  is 

694 


enough.  We  had  no  serious  conversation,  but  much 
literary.  In  short,  he  was  pleased  and  had  a  good  time. 
He  said  he  should  spend  a  day  at  Puteoli  and  another  at 
Baiae. 

Now  you  have  the  tale  of  my  hospitality,  or  billeting,  I 
might  call  it ;  troublesome,  but  not  annoying. 

CICERO 
Letter  to  Atticus  (B.C.  45) 


OUT-STAYING  WELCOME 

Prudent  Telemachus  began  to  address  them :  Suitors  of 
my  mother,  you  insolent  bullies,  let  us  please  ourselves  now 
with  feasting.  .  .  .  But  in  the  morning  let  us  all  go  down 
and  sit  in  assembly,  that  I  may  firmly  tell  you  this,  that 
you  are  to  go  out  of  this  house,  and  busy  yourselves  with 
other  feasts,  devouring  your  own  substance,  and  taking 
turns  at  one  another's  houses.  But  if  it  seems  to  you  more 
appropriate  to  consume  without  redress  the  goods  of  one 
man,  then  waste  on  ;  but  I  will  call  upon  the  eternal  gods, 
and  if  Zeus  grants  that  deeds  be  punished,  then  you  shall 
perish  in  this  house  unavenged. 

HOMER 
Odyssey.  Book  I 


A  CHARMING  TIME 

I  have  passed  the  most  delightful  time  in  the  most 
beautiful  country  in  the  company  of  Tonantius  Ferreolus 

695 


and  Apollinaris,  the  most  charming  hosts  in  the  world. 
Their  estates  march  together,  the  houses  are  not  far 
apart  .  .  .  The  hills  above  the  houses  are  under  vines  and 
olives  .  .  .  Every  morning  began  with  a  flattering  rivalry 
between  the  two  hosts,  as  to  which  of  their  kitchens  should 
first  smoke  for  the  refreshment  of  their  guest . . .  From  the 
first  moment  we  were  hurried  from  one  pleasure  to 
another.  Hardly  had  we  entered  the  vestibule  of  either 
house,  when  we  saw  two  opposed  pair  of  partners  in  the 
ball-game.  ...  In  another  place  one  heard  the  rattle  of 
dice  boxes  ...  in  yet  another  were  books.  .  .  .  They  were 
so  arranged  that  the  devotional  works  were  near  the 
ladies'  seats  ;  where  the  master  sat  were  those  ennobled 
by  the  great  style  of  Roman  eloquence.  .  . .  The  dinner  was 
short,  but  abundant.  .  .  .  Amusing  and  instructive  anec- 
dotes accompanied  our  potations  ;  wit  went  with  the  one 
sort,  and  learning  with  the  other.  To  be  brief,  we  were 
entertained  with  decorum,  refinement  and  good  cheer.  .  .  . 
The  siesta  over,  we  took  a  short  ride  to  sharpen  our  jaded 
appetites  for  supper.  ...  I  could  tell  you  of  suppers  fit 
for  a  king  :  it  is  not  my  sense  of  shame,  but  simply  want 
of  space,  which  sets  a  limit  to  my  revelations. 

BISHOP   SIDONIUS   APOLLINARIS 

Letter  to  Donidius  (461-7) 
Trans.  T.  Hodgkin  (1892) 


STAYING  WITH  THE  SQUIRE 

Why,  if  any  of  my  friends  come  to  see  me,  I  entertain 
them  with  a  good  table  and  a  bottle  of  good  champaign  ; 
and  for  their  diversion  I  show  them  some  sport.  We  have 

696 


allwayes  some  thing  or  other  in  season  in  the  field,  either 
hunting  or  shooting,  or  setting  or  fishing.  We  never  want 
game  of  one  sort  or  another,  and  if  they  are  men  of  books 
and  talk  learnedly,  that's  out  of  my  way,  and  I  say  to 
'em,  "  Come  let's  go  visit  the  vicar,"  so  away  we  go  to 
the  parsonage,  and  the  Doctor  has  a  good  library,  and, 
what  is  better  than  all  his  books,  keeps  a  cup  of  good 
liquor,  as  he  calls  it,  for  second-rate  drinking. 

DANIEL  DEFOE 

The  Compleat  Gentleman  (1729) 


A  DISAPPOINTING  SUPPER 

To  sup  with  thee  thou  didst  me  home  invite ; 
And  mad'st  a  promise  that  mine  appetite 
Sho'd  meet  and  tire,  on  such  lautitious  meat 
The  like  not  Heliogabalus  did  eat : 
And  richer  Wine  wo'dst  give  to  me  (thy  guest) 
Than  Roman  Sylla  powr'd  out  at  his  feast. 
I  came ;  ('tis  true)  and  look't  for  Fowle  of  price, 
The  bastard  Phenix  ;  bird  of  Paradice  ; 
And  for  no  less  than  Aromatick  Wine 
Of  Maydens-blush,  commixt  with  Jessamine. 
Cleane  was  the  berth,  the  mantle  larded  jet ; 
Which  wanting  Lar,  and  smoke,  hung  weeping  wet ; 
At  last,  i'  th'  noone  of  winter,  did  appeare 
A  ragd-soust-neats-foot  with  sick  vineger  : 
And  in  a  burnisht  Flagonet  stood  by 
Heere  small  as  Comfort,  dead  as  Charity. 
At  which  amaz'd,  and  pond'ring  on  the  food, 
How  cold  it  was,  and  how  it  child  my  blood, 
697 


I  curst  the  master  ;  and  I  damn'd  the  souce  ; 
And  swore  I'de  got  the  ague  of  the  house. 
Well,  when  to  eat  thou  dost  me  next  desire, 
Fie  bring  a  Fever,  since  thou  keep'st  no  fire. 


ROBERT  HERRICK 

The  Invitation  (1648) 


CALLING  ON  THE  POOR 

We  went  to  every  house  in  the  place,  and  found  each  a  scene 
of  the  greatest  ignorance  and  vice.  We  saw  but  one  Bible  in 
all  the  parish,  and  that  was  used  to  prop  a  flower-pot  ! 

HANNAH  MORE 

Letter  to  Mr  Wilberforce  (1791) 


CALLING  ON  THE  RICH 

George  Hotel,  Cheddar. 

I  was  told  we  should  meet  with  great  opposition  if  I  did 
not  try  to  propitiate  the  chief  despot  of  the  Village,  who  is 
very  rich,  and  very  brutal ;  so  I  ventured  into  the  den  of 
this  monster,  in  a  country  as  savage  as  himself,  near 
Bridgewater.  He  begged  I  would  not  think  of  bringing  any 
religion  into  the  country ;  it  was  the  worst  thing  in  the 
world  for  the  poor,  for  it  made  them  lazy  and  useless.  In 
vain  did  I  represent  to  him  that  they  would  be  more 
industrious  as  they  were  better  principled.  ...  I  made 
eleven  more  of  these  agreeable  visits ;  and,  as  I  improved 

698 


in  the  art  of  canvassing,  had  better  success.  Miss  Wilber- 
force  would  have  been  shocked,  had  she  seen  the  petty 
tyrants  whose  insolence  I  stroked  and  taijied,  the  ugly 
children  I  fondled,  the  pointers  I  stroked  and  caressed,  the 
cyder  I  commended,  and  the  wine  I  swallowed. . . .  Patty, 
who  is  with  me,  says  she  has  good  hopes  that  the  hearts 
of  some  of  these  rich  poor  wretches  may  be  touched ; 
they  are  at  present  as  ignorant  as  the  beasts  that  perish, 
intoxicated  every  day  before  dinner,  and  plunged  in  such 
vices  as  make  me  begin  to  think  London  a  virtuous  place. 

Ibid.  (1789) 


AT   BORELAND 

Now  and  then  a  visit  to  Penfillan  or  some  where  has  afforded 
a  little  variety  to  my  existence.  The  week  before  last  I 
spent  with  my  Uncle  George  at  Boreland ;  and  such  a 
week  !  There  was  no  amusement  within  doors,  and  the 
weather  precluded  the  possibility  of  finding  any  without. 
The  only  book  in  the  house  (Coelebs  in  Search  of  a  Wife) 
was  monopolized  by  a  young  lady  who,  I  strongly  sus- 
pect, had  come  there  upon  Coelebs's  errand  ;  and  the  rest 
of  us  had  no  sort  of  weapon  whatever  to  combat  time  with. 
For  four  whole  days  I  had  nothing  for  it  but  to  count  the 
drops  of  rain  that  fell  from  the  ceiling  into  a  basin  beneath; 
or  to  make  a  "  burble  "  of  my  watchchain,  for  the  satis- 
faction of  undoing  it.  Oh  Plato,  Plato  !  what  tasks  !  At 
length  in  a  phrensy  of  ennui  I  mounted  a  brute  of  a  horse 
that  could  do  nothing  but  trot,  and  rode  thirty-two  miles 
just  for  diversion.  I  left  the  good  people  at  Boreland 
wondering,  when  it  would  be  fair  ?  they  had  wondered  for 

699 


four  days,  and  when  I  came  back  they  were  still  wonder- 
ing. How  few  people  retain  their  faculties  in  rainy  weather ! 

JANE  WELSH 

Letter  to  Miss  Stodart  (1822) 


A  CHRISTMAS  VISIT 

The  preparing  and  the  going  abroad  in  such  weather  .  .  . 
were  evils,  were  disagreeables  at  least,  which  Mr  John 
Knightley  did  not  by  any  means  like  :  he  anticipated 
nothing  in  the  visit  that  could  be  at  all  worth  the  purchase ; 
and  the  whole  of  their  drive  to  the  vicarage  was  spent  by 
him  in  expressing  his  discontent. 

"  A  man,"  said  he,  "  must  have  a  very  good  opinion  of 
himself  when  he  asks  people  to  leave  their  own  fire-side, 
and  encounter  such  a  day  as  this,  for  the  sake  of  coming  to 
see  him.  He  must  think  himself  a  most  agreeable  fellow ; 
I  could  not  do  such  a  thing.  It  is  the  greatest  absurdity — 
actually  snowing  at  this  moment  !  The  folly  of  not  allow- 
ing people  to  be  comfortable  at  home — and  the  folly  of 
people's  not  staying  comfortably  at  home  when  they  can  ! 
If  we  were  obliged  to  go  out  on  such  an  evening  as  this, 
by  any  call  of  duty  or  business,  what  a  hardship  we  should 
deem  it ; — and  here  are  we,  probably  with  rather  thinner 
clothing  than  usual,  setting  forth  voluntarily,  without 
excuse,  in  defiance  of  the  voice  of  nature,  which  tells  man, 
in  every  thing  given  to  his  view  or  his  feelings,  to  stay 
at  home  himself,  and  keep  all  under  shelter  that  he  can ; — 
here  are  we  setting  forward  to  spend  five  dull  hours  in 
another  man's  house,  with  nothing  to  say  or  to  hear  that 

700 


was  not  heard  or  said  yesterday,  and  may  not  be  said  or 
heard  again  to-morrow.  Going  in  dismal  weather,  to 
return  probably  in  worse  ; — four  horses  and  four  servants 
taken  out  for  nothing  but  to  convey  five  idle,  shivering 
creatures  into  colder  rooms  and  worse  company  than  they 
might  have  had  at  home."  ..."  Christmas  weather/' 
observed  Mr  Elton.  "  Quite  seasonable  :  and  extremely 
fortunate  we  may  think  ourselves  that  it  did  not  begin 
yesterday,  and  prevent  this  day's  party.  .  .  .  This  is  quite 
the  season,  indeed,  for  friendly  meetings.  At  Christmas 
every  body  invites  their  friends  about  them,  and  people 
think  little  of  even  the  worst  weather.  I  was  snowed  up  at 
a  friend's  house  once  for  a  week.  Nothing  could  be 
pleasanter.  I  went  only  for  one  night,  and  could  not  get 
away  till  that  very  day  se'nnight." 

Mr  John  Knightley  looked  as  if  he  did  not  comprehend 
the  pleasure,  but  said  only,  coolly,  "  I  cannot  wish  to  be 
snowed  up  a  week  at  Randalls." 

JANE   AUSTEN 

Emma  (1816) 


FROM  AN  ANGEL 

Haste  hither  Evey  and  worth  thy  sight  behold 
Eastward  among  those  Trees,  what  glorious  shape 
Comes  this  way  moving ;  seems  another  Morn 
Ris'n  on  mid-noon  ;  som  great  behest  from  Heav'n 
To  us  perhaps  he  brings,  and  will  voutsafe 
This  day  to  be  our  Guest.  But  goe  with  speed, 
And  what  thy  stores  contain,  bring  forth  and  poure 
Abundance,  fit  to  honour  and  receive 
701 


Our  Heav'nly  stranger ;  .  .  . 
To  whom  thus  Eve.  Adam,  earths  hallo wd  mould, 
Of  God  inspir'd,  small  store  will  serve,  where  store. 
All  seasons,  ripe  for  use  hangs  on  the  stalk ;  .  .  . 

So  saying,  with  dispatchful  looks  in  haste 
She  {urns,  on  hospitable  thoughts  intent 
What  choice  to  chuse  for  delicacie  best. 
What  order,  so  contriv'd  as  not  to  mix 
Tastes,  not  well  joynd,  inelegant,  but  bring 
Taste  after  taste  upheld  with  kindliest  change. 
Bestirs  her  then,  and  from  each  tender  stalk 
Whatever  Earth  all-bearing  Mother  yeilds 
In  India  East  or  West,  or  middle  shoare 
In  Pontus  or  the  Punic  Coast,  or  where 
Alcinous  reign'd,  fruit  of  all  kindes,  in  coate, 
Rough,  or  smooth  rin'd,  or  bearded  husk,  or  shell 
She  gathers,  Tribute  large,  and  on  the  board 
Heaps  with  unsparing  hand ;  for  drink  the  Grape 
She  crushes,  inoffensive  moust,  and  meathes 
From  many  a  berrie,  and  from  sweet  kernels  prest 
She  tempers  dulcet  creams,  nor  these  to  hold 
Wants  her  fit  vessels  pure,  then  strews  the  ground 
With  Rose  and  Odours  from  the  shrub  unfum'd. 
Mean  while  our  Primitive  great  Sire,  to  meet 
His  god-like  Guest,  walks  forth,  without  more  train 
Accompani'd  then  with  his  own  compleat 
Perfections  in  himself  was  all  his  state. 

JOHN  MILTON 

Paradise  Lost,  Book  V  (1667) 


702 


WEALTH 


EXCESS 

He  left  a  vast  estate  to  his  son.  Sir  Francis  (I  thinke  ten 
thousand  pounds  per  annum)  ;  he  lived  like  a  hog,  but  his 
son  John  was  a  great  waster,  and  dyed  in  his  father's  time. 
He  was  the  greatest  howse-keeper  in  England  ;  would 
have  at  Littlecote  4  or  5  or  more  lords  at  a  time.  His  wife 
(Harvey)  was  worth  to  him,  I  thinke,  60000  li.,  and  she 
was  as  vaine  as  he,  and  she  sayd  that  she  had  brought  such 
an  estate,  and  she  scorned  but  she  would  live  as  high  as 
he  did  ;  and  in  her  husband's  absence  would  have  all  the 
women  of  the  countrey  thither,  and  feast  them,  and  make 
them  drunke,  as  she  would  be  herselfe.  They  both  dyed 
by  excesse  ;  and  by  luxury  and  cosonage  by  their  servants, 
when  he  dyed,  there  was,  I  thinke,  a  hundred  thousand 
pound  debt. 

Old  Sir  Francis,  he  lived  like  a  hog,  at  Hownstret  in 
Somerset.  ...  I  remember  this  epitaph  was  made  on 
Mr  John  Popham  : 

Here  lies  he  who  not  long  since 

Kept  a  table  like  a  prince, 

Till  Death  came,  and  tooke  away. 

Then  ask't  the  old  man,  What's  to  pay  ? 

JOHN  AUBREY,  Brief  Lives  :  Sir  John  Popham  (c.  1680) 
703 


IMMODERATE  PLEASURES 

He  ranges  beyond  his  pale,  and  lives  without  compasse. 
His  expense  is  measured  not  by  abilitie,  but  will.  His 
pleasures  are  immoderate,  and  not  honest.  . . .  The  vulgar 
sort  call  him  bountiful,  and  applaud  him  while  he  spends. 
.  .  .  While  he  is  present,  none  of  the  wealthier  guests 
may  pay  ought  to  the  shot,  without  much  vehemencie, 
without  danger  of  unkindnesse.  Use  hath  made  it  un- 
pleasant to  him,  not  to  spend.  .  .  .  When  he  looks  into 
the  wealthie  chest  of  his  father,  his  conceit  suggests,  that 
it  cannot  be  emptied  ;  and  while  hee  takes  out  some  deale 
every  day,  hee  perceives  not  any  diminution ;  and  when 
the  heape  is  sensibly  abated,  yet  still  flatters  himselfe  with 
enough.  ...  He  doth  not  so  much  bestow  benefits  as 
scatter  them.  .  .  .  Hee  hath  so  dilated  himselfe  with  the 
beamses  of  prosperitie,  that  he  lies  open  to  all  dangers. 

JOSEPH    HALL 

Characters  of  Vertues  and  Vices  (1608) 


ALL   I   SAW 

The  Streets  seem'd  paved  with  golden  Stones,  . 

Rich  Diamonds,  and  Pearl,  and  Gold 

Alight  evry  where  be  seen  ; 
Rare  Colors,  yellow,  blew,  red,  white,  and  green 

Mine  Eys  on  every  side  behold  : 
All  that  I  saw,  a  Wonder  did  appear, 

Amazement  was  my  Bliss  : 
That  and  my  Wealth  met  evry  where. 
No  Joy  to  this  I 
704 


For  Property  its  self  was  mine, 
And  Hedges,  Ornaments  : 
Walls,  Houses,  Coffers,  and  their  rich  Contents, 

To  make  me  Rich  combine. 
Cloaths,  costly  Jewels,  Laces,  I  esteem'd 

My  Wealth  by  others  worn, 
For  me  they  all  to  wear  them  seem'd, 

When  I  was  born.  THOMAS  TRAHERNE 

Wonder  :  Poems  of  Felicity  (?  1656-66) 


KING  SOLOMON 

And  the  Kyng  made  sylver  and  goulde  at  Jerusalem  as 
plenteous  as  stones  and  Cedar  trees  as  plenty  as  the  mul- 
berry trees  that  growe  in  valeyes.  Chronicles  ii 
Trans,  by  William  Tyndale.  Matthew's  Bible  (1537) 


BARABAS 

Enter  Barabas  in  his  Counting-House,  with  heapes  of  gold 
before  him 

JEW  : 

.  .  .  Fye  ;  what  a  trouble  'tis  to  count  this  trash. 

Well  fare  the  Arabians,  who  so  richly  pay 

The  things  they  traffique  for  with  wedge  of  gold, 

Whereof  a  man  may  easily  in  a  day 

Tell  that  which  may  maintaine  him  all  his  life.  .  .  . 

Give  me  the  Merchants  of  the  Indian  Mynes, 

YP  705 


That  trade  in  mettall  of  the  purest  mould ; 

The  wealthy  Moore.,  that  in  the  Easterne  rockes 

Without  controule  can  picke  his  riches  up. 

And  in  his  house  heape  pearle  like  pibble-stones ; 

Receive  them  free,  and  sell  them  by  the  weight, 

Bags  of  fiery  Opals,,  Saphires,  Amatists, 

Jaunts,  hard  Topas,  grasse-greene  Emeraulds, 

Beauteous  Rubyes,  sparkling  Diamonds.  .  .  . 

This  is  the  ware  wherein  consists  my  wealth  : 

And  thus  me  thinkes  should  men  of  judgement  frame 

Their  meanes  of  traffique  from  the  vulgar  trade, 

And  as  their  wealth  increaseth,  so  inclose 

Infinite  riches  in  a  little  roome.  .  .  . 

But  who  comes  heare  ?  How  now. 

Enter  a  Merchant 
MERCH.  : 

Barabas,  thy  ships  are  safe, 

Riding  in  Malta  Rhode  :  And  all  the  Merchants 

With  other  Merchandize  are  safe  arriv'd.  .  .  . 

Enter  a  second  Merchant 

2  MERCH.  : 

Thine  Argosie  from  Alexandria, 

Know  Barabas,  doth  ride  in  Malta  Rhode, 

Laden  with  riches,  and  exceeding  store 

Of  Persian  silkes,  of  gold,  and  Orient  Perle.  .  .  . 

JEW  : 
Well,  goe 

Thus  trowles  our  fortune  in  by  land  and  sea 
And  thus  are  wee  on  every  side  inrich'd  : 

CHRISTOPHER  MARLOWE 

The  Jew  of  Malta  (1590) 
706 


ENCOURAGING  TRADE 

HANDY  JUN.  :  I  suppose  she  has  found  out  the  use  of 
money. 

SIR  ABEL  :  Yes  ;  I'll  do  her  the  justice  to  say  she  encour- 
ages trade. — Why,  do  you  know,  Bob,  my  best  coal-pit 
won't  find  her  in  white  muslins — round  her  neck  hangs  a 
hundred  acres  at  least ;  my  noblest  oaks  have  made  wigs 
for  her  ;  my  fat  oxen  have  dwindled  into  Dutch  pugs  and 
white  mice  ;  my  India  bonds  are  transmitted  into  shawls 
and  otto  of  roses  ;  and  a  magnificent  mansion  has  shrunk 
into  a  diamond  snuff-box. 

THOMAS  MORTON 
Speed  the  Plough  (1800) 


GALLIES,  VIRGINS,  AND  NEGROES 

CALAPINE : 

Amongst  so  many  crownes  of  burnisht  gold, 
Choose  which  thou  wilt,  all  are  at  thy  command, 
A  thousand  Gallies  mann'd  with  Christian  slaves 
I  freely  give  thee,  which  shall  cut  the  straights, 
And  bring  Armados  from  the  coasts  of  Spaine, 
Fraughted  with  golde  of  rich  America  : 
The  Grecian  virgins  shall  attend  on  thee, 
Skilful  in  musicke  and  in  amorous  laies  : 
As  faire  as  was  Pygmalions  Ivory  gyrle, 
Or  lovely  lo  metamorposed. 
With  naked  Negros  shall  thy  coach  be  drawen, 
And  as  thou  rid'st  in  triumph  through  the  streets, 
The  pavement  underneath  they  chariot  wheels 
707 


With  Turky  Carpets  shall  be  covered  : 
And  cloath  of  Arras  hung  about  the  walles, 
Fit  objects  for  thy  princely  eie  to  pierce. 
A  hundred  Bassoes  cloath'd  in  crimson  silk 
Shall  ride  before  thee  on  Barbarian  Steeds  : 
And  when  thou  goest,  a  golden  Canapie 
Enchac'd  with  pretious  stones,  .  .  . 
And  more  than  this,  for  all  I  cannot  tell. 

CHRISTOPHER   MARLOWE 

Tambiirlaine  the  Create  (1588) 


EMPEROR  OF  GUIANA 

I  thought  good  to  insert  part  of  the  120  chapter  of  Lopez 
in  his  generall  historic  of  the  Indies,  wherein  he  describeth 
the  court  and  magnificence  of  Guaynacapa,  auncestor  to  the 
Emperour  of  Guiana,  whose  very  words  are  these.  .  .  . 
That  is,  All  the  vessels  of  his  home,  table,  and  kitchin  were 
of  gold  and  silver,  and  the  meanest  of  silver  and  copper  for 
strength  and  hardnes  of  the  mettal.  He  had  in  his  ward- 
roppe  hollow  statues  of  gold  which  seemed  giants,  and  the 
figures  in  proportion  and  bignes  of  all  the  beastes,  birdes, 
trees,  and  hearbes,  that  the  earth  bringeth  forth  :  and  of 
all  the  fishes  that  the  sea  or  waters  of  his  kingdome 
breedeth.  Hee  had  also  ropes,  budgets,  chestes  and  troughs 
of  golde  and  silver,  heapes  of  billets  of  golde  that  seemed 
woode,  marked  out  to  burne.  Finally  there  was  nothing  in 
his  countrey,  whereof  hee  had  not  the  counterfeat  in  gold  : 
Yea,  and  they  say,  The  Ingas  had  a  garden  of  pleasure  in 
an  iland  neere  Puna,  where  they  went  to  recreate  them- 
selves, when  they  would  take  the  ayre  of  the  sea,  which 

708 


had  all  kind  of  garden  hearbes,  flowers  and  trees  of  Gold 
and  Silver,  an  invention  and  magnificence,  til  then  never 
scene  :  Besides  all  this,  he  had  an  infinite  quantitie  of 
silver  and  gold  unwrought  in  Cuzco. 

SIR  WALTER   RALEIGH 

The  Discoverie  of  Guiana  (1596) 


OBVIOUS 

Riches  are  for  Spending.  FRANCIS  BACON 

Essayes  :  Of  Expence  (1597) 


MAMMON 

Moralists  and  Church  Fathers  have  named  it  the  root  of  all 
Evil,  the  begetter  of  hate  and  bloodshed,  the  sure  cause  of 
the  soul's  damnation.  It  has  been  called  "  trash,"  "  muck," 
"  dunghill  excrement,"  by  grave  authors.  The  love  of  it 
is  denounced  in  all  Sacred  Writings  ;  we  find  it  repre- 
hended on  Chaldean  bricks,  and  in  the  earliest  papyri. 
Buddha,  Confucius,  Christ,  set  their  faces  against  it;  and 
they  have  been  followed  in  more  modern  times  by 
beneficed  Clergymen,  Sunday  School  Teachers,  and  the 
leaders  of  the  Higher  Thought.  But  have  the  condemna- 
tions of  all  the  ages  done  anything  to  tarnish  that  bright 
lustre  ?  Men  dig  for  it  ever  deeper  into  the  earth's  intes- 
tines, travel  in  search  of  it  farther  and  farther  to  arctic 
and  unpleasant  regions. 

In  spite  of  all  my  moral  reading,  I  must  confess  that  I 
like  to  have  some  of  this  gaudy  substance  in  my  pocket. 

709 


Its  presence  cheers  and  comforts  me,  diffuses  a  genial 
warmth  through  my  body.  My  eyes  rejoice  in  the  shine  of 
it ;  its  clinquant  sound  is  music  in  my  ears.  Since  I  then 
am  in  his  paid  service,  and  reject  none  of  the  doles  of  his 
bounty,  I  too  dwell  in  the  House  of  Mammon.  I  bow 
before  the  Idol  and  taste  the  unhallowed  ecstasy. 

How  many  Altars  have  been  overthrown,  and  how  many 
Theologies  and  heavenly  Dreams  have  had  their  bottoms 
knocked  out  of  them,  while  He  has  sat  there,  a  great  God, 
golden  and  adorned,  and  secure  on  his  unmoved  throne  ? 

LOGAN   PEARSALL   SMITH 

Trivia  (1918) 


GETTING  AND  SPENDING 

He  left  an  estate  of  eleaven  thousand  pounds  per  annum. 
Sir  John  Danvers,  who  knew  him,  told  me  that  when  one 
told  him  his  sonnes  would  spend  the  state  faster  then  he 
gott  it,  he  replyed,  "  they  cannot  take  more  delight  in 
spending  of  it  then  I  did  in  the  getting  of  it." 

JOHN   AUBREY 

Brief  Lives :  Sir  Edward  Coke  (c.  1680) 


TWIRING  AND  LOLLING 

PHILLIS  :  Alas  !  Alas  !  it  is  a  sad  thing  to  walk.  Oh  For- 
tune !  Fortune  ! 

TOM  :  What !  a  sad  thing  to  walk  ?  Why,  Madam  PhilUs, 
do  you  wish  yourself  lame  ? 

710 


PHILLIS  :  No,  Mr  Tom,  but  I  wish  I  were  generally 
carry'd  on  a  Coach  or  Chair,  and  of  a  Fortune  neither  to 
stand  nor  go,  but  to  totter,  or  slide,  to  be  short-sighted, 
or  stare,  to  fleer  in  the  Face,  to  look  distant,  to  observe,  to 
overlook,  yet  all  become  me,  and  if  I  was  rich,  I  could 
twire  and  loll  as  well  as  the  best  of  them.  Oh  Tom  !  Tom  I 
is  it  not  a  pity,  that  you  shou'd  be  so  great  a  Coxcomb,  and 
I  so  great  a  Coquet,  and  yet  be  such  poor  Devils  as  we  are  ? 

RICHARD  STEELE,  The  Conscious  Lovers  (1722) 


FAIR,  FINE  AND  PERFECT 

If  she  be  rich,  then  she  is  fair,  fine,  absolute  and  perfect, 
then  they  burn  like  fire,  they  love  her  dearly,  like  pig  and 
pye,  and  are  ready  to  hang  themselves  if  they  may  not 
have  her.  ROBERT  BURTON 

The  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  (1621.  Edition  1632) 


HAVING  THE  STUFF 

THOMAS  :  But  has  she  got  the  stuff,  Mr.  Fag  ?  Is  she  rich, 
hey  ? 

FAG  :  Rich  ! — Why,  I  believe  she  owns  half  the  stocks  ! 
Zounds  !  Thomas,  she  could  pay  the  national  debt  as 
easily  as  I  could  my  washerwoman  !  She  has  a  lap-dog 
that  eats  out  of  gold, — she  feeds  her  parrot  with  small 
pearls, — and  all  her  thread-papers  are  made  of  bank-notes ! 

RICHARD  SHERIDAN,  The  Rivals  (1775) 
711 


How  PLEASANT  IT  Is 

As  I  sat  in  the  cafe"  I  said  to  myself, 

They  may  talk  as  they  please  about  what  they  call  pelf, 

They  may  sneer  as  they  like  about  eating  and  drinking. 

But  help  it  I  cannot,  I  cannot  help  thinking 

How  pleasant  it  is  to  have  money,  heigh  ho  ! 

How  pleasant  it  is  to  have  money  ! 

ARTHUR   HUGH   CLOUGH 

Poems  (1849) 


WEDDINGS 


SIR  CLIPESBY  AND  LADY  CREW 

3- 

See  where  she  conies  ;  and  smell  how  all  the  street 
Breathes  Vine-yards  and  Pomgranats  :  O  how  sweet 
As  a  fir'd  Altar,  is  each  stone, 
Perspiring  pounded  Cynamon. 

The  Phenix  nest, 
Built  up  of  odours,  burneth  in  her  breast. 

Who  therein  wo'd  not  consume 
His  soule  to  Ash-heaps  in  that  rich  perfume  ? 
Bestroaking  Fate  the  while 
He  burnes  to  Embers  on  the  Pile. 
712 


4- 

Himeriy  O  Himen  !  Tread  the  sacred  ground  ; 
Shew  thy  white  feet,  and  head  with  Marjoram  crown'd 

5- 

Glide  by  the  banks  of  Virgins  then,  and  passe 
The  Shewers  of  Roses,  lucky  foure-leav'd  grasse  : 
The  while  the  cloud  of  younglings  sing,* 
And  drown  yee  with  a  flowrie  Spring  : 

While  some  repeat 
Your  praise,  and  bless  you,  sprinkling  you  with  Wheat 

While  that  others  doe  divine  ; 
Blest  is  the  Bride,  on  whom  the  Sun  doth  shine  ! 

And  thousands  gladly  wish 
You  multiply,  as  doth  a  Fish. 

7- 

And  now  y'are  enter'd  :  see  the  Codled  Cook 
Runs  from  his  Torrid  Zone-)  to  prie,  and  look, 
And  blesse  his  dainty  Mistresse  :  see, 
The  Aged  point  out,  This  is  she, 

Who  now  must  sway 
The  House  (Love  shield  her)  with  her  Yea  and  Nay  : 

And  the  smirk  Butier  thinks  it 
Sin,  in's  Nap'rie,  not  to  express  his  wit ; 

Each  striving  to  devise 
Some  gin,  wherewith  to  catch  your  eyes. 

8. 

To  bed,  to  bed,  kind  Turtles,  now,  and  write 
This  the  short'st  day,  and  this  the  longest  night ; 
But  yet  too  short  for  you  :  'tis  we, 
Who  count  this  night  as  long  as  three, 
Lying  alone, 

713 


Telling  the  Clock  strike  Ten,  Eleven,  Twelve,  One. 

Quickly,  quickly,  then  prepare ; 
And  let  the  Young-Men  and  the  Bride-maids  share 

Your  garters  ;  and  their  joynts 
Encircle  with  the  Bride-grooms  Points.  .  .  . 

ii. 

And  to  enchant  yee  more,  see  every  where 
About  the  Roofe,  a  Syren  in  a  Sphere  ; 

(As  we  think)  singing  to  the  dinne 

Of  many  a  warbling  Cherubim  :  .  .  . 

16. 

All  now  is  husht  in  silence  ;  Midwife-moone 
With  all  her  Owl-ey'd  issue  begs  a  boon 

Which  you  must  grant ;  that's  entrance  ;  with 
Which  extract,  all  we  can  call  pith 

And   quintisccncc 
Of  Planetary  bodies  ;  so  commence 

All  faire  Constellations 
Looking  upon  yee.  That  two  Nations 
Springing  from  two  such  Fires, 

May  blaze  the  vertuc  of  their  Sires. 

ROBERT    HERRICK 

A  Nuptiall  Song.,  or  Epitlialamie,  on  Sir  Clipscby  Crew 

and  his  Lady  (1648) 


LORD  AND  LADY  HAYES 

Now  hath  Flora  rob'd  her  bowers 
To  befrend  this  place  with  flowers  ; 

Strowe  aboute,  strowc  aboutc, 
The  Skye  rayn'd  never  kindlyer  Showers. 


Flowers  with  Bridalls  well  agree. 
Fresh  as  Brides  and  Bridgromes  be. 

Strowe  aboute,  strowe  aboute, 
And  mixe  them  with  fit  melodic. 
Earth  hath  no  Princelier  flowers 
Then  Roses  white,  and  Roses  red. 
But  they  must  still  be  mingled. 
And  as  a  Rose  new  pluckt  from  Venus  thorne 
So  doth  a  Bride  a  Bride  groomes  bed  adorne. 

Divers  divers  Flowers  affect 
For  some  private  deare  respect, 

Strowe  about,  strow  about, 
Let  every  one  his  owne  protect. 
But  hees  none  of  Floras  friend, 
That  will  not  the  Rose  commend. 

Strow  about,  strow  about, 
Let  Princes  princely  flowers  defend. 
Roses,  the  Gardens  pride, 
Are  flowers  for  love  and  flowers  for  Kinges, 
In  courts  desir'd,  and  Weddings. 
And  as  a  Rose  in  Venus  bosome  worne, 
So  doth  a  Bridegroome  his  Brides  bed  adorne. 

Who  is  the  happier  of  the  two, 

A  maide  or  wife  ? 
Which  is  more  to  be  desired 

Peace  or  strife  ? 

What  strife  can  be  where  two  are  one, 
Or  that  delight  to  pine  alone  ? 
None  such  true  freindes,  none  so  sweet  life, 
As  what  betweene  the  man  and  wife. 
A  maide  is  free,  a  wife  is  tyed. 
No  maide  but  faine  would  be  a  Bride. 

715 


Why  live  so  many  single  then  ? 
Tis  not,  I  hope,  for  want  of  men  ? 
The  bow  and  arrow  both  may  fit. 
And  yet  tis  hard  the  marke  the  hit. 
He  levels  faire  that  by  his  side 
Laies  at  night  his  lovely  Bride. 
Sing  lo  :  Hymen,  lo  :  lo  :  Hymen. 

THOMAS   CAMPION 

Maske  .  .  .  in  honour  of  the  Lord  Hayes,  and  his 

Bride  (1607) 


SIR  THOMAS  AND  LADY  SOUTHWELL 


VI 

Behold  !  how  Hymens  Taper-light 

Shews  you  how  much  is  spent  of  night. 
See,  see  the  Bride-grooms  Torch 
Half  wasted  in  the  porch. 
And  now  those  Tapers  five, 
That  shew  the  womb  shall  thrive  : 
Their  silv'rie   flames   advance, 
To  tell  all  prosperous  chance 

Still  shall  crown  the  happy  life 

Of  the  good  man  and  the  wife. 

XII 

Virgins,  weep  not ;  'twill  come,  when, 
As  she,  so  you'l  be  ripe  for  men. 
Then  grieve  her  not,  with  saying 
She  must  no  more  a  Maying  : 


Or  by  Rose-buds  devine 

Who'l  be  her  Valentine. 

Nor  name  those  wanton  reaks 

Y'ave  had  at  Early-breaks. 

But  now  kisse  her,  and  thus  say. 

Take  time  Lady  while  ye  may. 

XVI 

On  your  minutes,  hours,  dayes,  months,  years, 
Drop  the  fat  blessing  of  the  sphears. 

That  good,  which  Heav'n  can  give 

To  make  you  bravely  live, 

Fall,  like  a  spangling  dew 

By  day  and  night  on  you. 

May  Fortunes  Lilly-Hand 

Open  at  your  command  ; 
With  all  luckie  Birds  to  side 
With  the  Bride-groom,  and  the  Bride. 

XVII 

Let  bounteous  Fate  your  spindles  full 
Fill,  and  winde  up  with  whitest  wooll. 

Let  them  not  cut  the  thred 

Of  life,  until  ye  bid. 

May  Death  yet  come  at  last ; 

And  not  with  desp'rate  haste 

But  when  ye  both  can  say, 

Come,  Let  us  now  away. 
Be  ye  to  the  barn  then  born, 
Two,  like  two  ripe  shocks  of  corn. 

ROBERT   HERRICK 

An  Epithalamie  to   Sir   Thomas   Southwell  and  his 

Ladie.  Hesperides  (1648) 

717 


THE  TRAPPER  AND  THE  RED  GIRL 


I  saw  the  marriage  of  the  trapper  in  the  open  air  in  the 

far  west,  the  bride  was  a  red  girl, 
Her  father  and  his  friends  sat  near  cross-legged  and 

dumbly  smoking,  they  had  moccasins  to  their  feet 

and  large  thick  blankets  hanging  from  their  shoulders, 
On  a  bank  lounged  the  trapper,  he  was  drest  mostly  in 

skins,  his  luxuriant  beard  and  curls  protected  his 

neck,  he  held  his  bride  by  the  hand, 
She  had  long  eyelashes,  her  head  was  bare,  her  coarse 

straight  locks  descended  upon  her  voluptuous  limbs 

and  reach 'd  to  her  feet. 

WALT   WHITMAN 

Song  of  Myself 


WOODS 


PLEASURE  AND  PASTIME 


But  the  chiefe  pleasure  and  pastime  which  commeth  by 
wilde  woods,  is,  that  being  joyned  to  your  house  and 
champion  habitation,  (which  is  the  place,  where  it  must 
be  seated  or  planted)  it  is  pleasant  to  the  sight :  for  by  his 


diversity  of  greenenesse,  it  marvellously  delighteth,  and 
with  great  contentment  recreateth  the  sight. 

The  second  pleasure  or  pastime  is,  that  the  woods 
(beeing  neere  unto  your  lodging)  are  alwaies  full  of  all 
sorts  of  pretie  birds,  which  sing  sommer  and  winter  all 
the  day  long,  and  the  most  part  of  the  night,  as  night- 
ingales and  such  other  like,  whereby  their  songs  become 
joifull  and  delightsome  to  the  eare,  and  so  there  is  a 
pleasure  and  great  contentment  to  the  eare  even  to  them 
in  the  house  if  it  be  neere  unto. 

Another  pleasure  is,  that  in  the  said  woods  there  are 
alwaies  great  store  of  wood  coists,  popingjaies,  stares, 
cranes  and  other  sorts  of  birds,  which  make  you  pastime 
to  see  them  flie  :  and  there  may  also  pleasure  be  reaped 
in  taking  of  them  with  little  engines,  as,  with  a  call,  nets, 
the  tonnell,  or  other  such  like. 

The  fourth  is,  that  in  the  woods  are  to  be  had  conies, 
hares,  squirrels,  and  other  sorts  of  small  beasts  pleasant 
to  behold,  and  of  great  service  for  provision  of  vittaile. 

The  fifthe  is,  that  in  hot  seasons  you  may  purchase  a 
coole  aire  within  the  said  woods,  as  those  which  will 
cover  and  defend  you  from  the  injurie  and  vexation  of  the 
sunne,  and  contrariwise  cooling  you  whether  the  heate 
will  or  no  :  and  therein  you  have  also  to  behold  a  com- 
fortable greenenesse,  both  upon  the  boughes  and  ground, 
which  keepeth  his  grasse  greene  through  the  coolenesse 
and  shadow  of  the  trees. 

The  sixth,  is,  that  in  winter  being  in  the  said  woods, 
you  are  out  of  the  injurie  and  force  of  the  winds  and  great 
cold,  because  they  breake  them  off :  and  further  in  these 
woods  you  are  solitaire,  and  may  use  your  leasure,  in 
reading,  writing  or  meditating  upon  your  affaires,  without 
being  disquieted  or  distracted,  or  drawne  to  cast  your 

719 


sight  abroad  over  any  far  distant  place  or  countrie,  in 
as  much  as  the  sight  cannot  pearse  through  the  boughes 
or  bushes. 

CHARLES  ESTIENNE 

La  Maison  Rustique  (1572) 

Trans.  Richard  Surflet  (1600) 


PROFIT  AND  DELIGHT 

But  inward  round,  in  rowes  there  stand 

As  well  for  profit,  as  delight. 

The  Trees  of  Orchard,  and  the  Wood.  .  .  . 

HENRY   PEACHAM 

Minerva  Brit  t anna  (1612) 


XENOPHILISM 


THE  FRENCH  AIR 

PHILOTIS  :  Count  Rhodophil's  a  fine  gentleman  indeed, 
madam ;  and,  I  think,  deserves  your  affection. 
MELANTHA  :  Let  me  die  but  he's  a  fine  man ;  he  sings  and 
dances  en  Franfais,  and  writes  the  billets-doux  to  a  miracle. 
PHIL.  :  And  those  are  no  small  talents,  to  a  lady  that 

720 


understands  and  values  the  French  air,  as  your  Ladyship 
does. 

MEL.  :  How  charming  is  the  French  air,  and  what  an 
etourdi  bete  is  one  of  our  untra veiled  islanders  I'When  he 
would  make  his  court  to  me,  let  me  die  but  he  is  just 
ALsop's  ass,  that  would  imitate  the  courtly  French  in  his 
addresses  ;  but,  instead  of  those,  comes  pawing  upon  me, 
and  doing  all  things  so  maladroitly.  .  .  . 

Enter  Palamede. 

PAL.  :  .  .  .  I  want  many  things,  madam,  to  render  me 
accomplished ;  and  the  first  and  greatest  of  them  is  your 
favour. 

MEL.  :  Let  me  die,  Philotis,  but  this  is  extremely  French. 
...  A  gentleman,  sir,  that  understands  the  grand  monde 
so  well,  who  has  haunted  the  best  conversations,  and  who, 
in  short,  has  voyaged,  may  pretend  to  the  good  graces  of 
a  lady. 

PAL.  :  (aside)  Hey-day  !  Grand  monde  !  Conversation  ! 
voyaged  !  and  good  graces  !  I  find  my  mistress  is  one  of 
those  that  run  mad  in  new  French  words. 
MEL.  :  I  suppose,  sir,  you  have  made  the  tour  of  France  ; 
and,  having  seen  all  that's  fine  there,  will  make  a  con- 
siderable reformation  in  the  rudeness  of  our  court :  For  let 
me  die,  but  an  unfashioned,  untravelled,  mere  Sicilian,  is 
a  bete  ;  and  has  nothing  in  the  world  of  an  honnete  homme. 

PAL.  :  I  must  confess,  madam,  that 

MEL.  :  And  what  new  minuets  have  you  brought  over 
with  you  ?  their  minuets  are  to  a  miracle  !  And  our 
Sicilian  jigs  so  dull  and  sad  to  them  ! 

PAL.  :   For  minuets,  madam 

MEL.  :  And  what  new  plays  are  there  in  vogue  ?  And  who 

721 


danced  best  in  the  last  grand  ballet  ?  Come,  sweet 
servant,  you  shall  tell  me  all. 

PAL.  (aside) :  Tell  her  all  ?  Why  she  asks  all,  and  will 
heare  nothing. — To  answer  in  order,  madam,  to  your 

demands 

MEL.  :  I  am  thinking  what  a  happy  couple  we  shall  be  ! 
For  you  shall  keep  up  your  correspondence  abroad,  and 
everything  that's  new  writ,  in  France,  and  fine,  I  mean  all 
that's  delicate  and  bien  tourne,  we  will  have  first. 

JOHN   DRYDEN 

Marriage  a  la  Mode  (1673) 


RUSSIAN  BALLET 

The  Russians,  hearing  the  great  respect  we  have  for 
Foreign  Dancing,  have  lately  sent  over  some  of  their  best 
Ballarins,  who  are  now  practising  a  famous  Ballat,  which 
will  be  suddenly  danced  at  the  Bear-garden. 

GEORGE   ETHEREGE 

The  Man  of  Mode  (1676) 


FRENCH  FASHIONS 

I  have  much  wondered  why  our  English  above  other 
nations  should  so  much  doat  upon  new  fashions,  but  more 
I  wonder  at  our  want  of  wit,  that  wee  cannot  invent  them 
ourselves,  but  when  one  is  growne  stale  runne  presently 
over  into  France,  to  seeke  a  new,  making  that  noble  and 

722 


flourishing  kingdome  the  magazin  of  our  fooleries :  and  for 
this  purpose  many  of  our  tailors  lye  leger  there,  and  ladies 
post  over  their  gentlemen  ushers,  to  accoutre  them  and 
themselves  as  you  see. 

HENRY   PEACHAM 

The  Truth  of  our  Times  (1638) 


SALUTE  TO  ALL  FOREIGNERS 

I  hear  emulous  shouts  of  Australians  pursuing  the  wild 

horse, 
I  hear  the  Spanish  dance  with  castanets  in  the  chestnut 

shade,  to  the  rebeck  and  guitar, 
I  hear  continual  echoes  from  the  Thames, 
I  hear  fierce  French  liberty  songs, 
I  hear  of  the  Italian  boat-sculler  the  musical  recitative 

of  old  poems, 
I  hear  the  locusts  in  Syria  as  they  strike  the  grain  and 

grass  with  the  showers  of  their  terrible  clouds, 
I  hear  the  chirp  of  the  Mexican  muleteer,  and  the  bells 

of  the  mule, 
I  hear  the  Arab  muezzin  calling  from  the  top  of  the 

mosque,  .  .  . 
I  hear  the  cry  of  the  Cossack,  and  the  sailor's  voice 

putting  to  sea  at  Okotsk,  .  .  , 

I  hear  the  Hebrew  reading  his  records  and  psalms, 
I  hear  the  rhythmic  myths  of  the  Greeks,  and  the  strong 

legends  of  the  Romans,  .  .  . 
I  hear  the  Hindoo  teaching  his  favorite  pupil  the  loves, 

wars,  adages,  transmitted  safely  to  this  day  from 

poets  who  wrote  three  thousand  years  ago.  .  .  . 
723 


You  whoever  you  are  ! 

You  daughter  or  son  of  England  ! 

You  of  the  mighty  Slavic  tribes  and  empires  !  You  Russ 

in  Russia  ! 
You  dim-descended,  black,  divine-soul'd  African,  large, 

fine-headed,   nobly   form'd,   superbly   destin'd,   on 

equal  terms  with  me  ! 

You  Norwegian  !  Swede  !  Dane  !  Icelander !  you  Prus- 
sian ! 

You  Spaniard  of  Spain  !  you  Portuguese  ! 
You  Frenchwoman  and  Frenchman  of  France  ! 
You  Beige  !  you  liberty-lover  of  the  Netherlands  !  (you 

stock  whence  I  myself  have  descended) ; 
You  sturdy  Austrian  !  you  Lombard  !  Hun  !  Bohemian  ! 

farmer  of  Styria  ! 
You  neighbor  of  the  Danube  ! 
You  working-man  of  the  Rhine,  the  Elbe  or  the  Weser  ! 

you  working-woman  too  ! 
You    Sardinian !     you     Bavarian !     Swabian !     Saxon ! 

Wallachian  !  Bulgarian  ! 
You  Roman  !  Neapolitan  !  you  Greek  ! 
You  lithe  matador  in  the  arena  at  Seville  ! 
You   mountaineer   living   lawlessly   on   the    Taurus   or 

Caucasus  ! 
You  Bokh  horse-herd  watching  your  mares  and  stallions 

feeding  ! 
You  beautiful-bodied  Persian  at  full  speed  in  the  saddle 

shooting  arrows  to  the  mark  ! 
You  Chinaman  and  Chinawoman  of  China  !  you  Tartar 

of  Tartary  !  .  .  . 
You  Jew  journeying  in  your  old  age  through  every  risk 

to  stand  once  more  on  Syrian  ground  ! 
You  other  Jews  waiting  in  all  lands  for  your  Messiah  ! 

724 


You  thoughtful  Armenian  .  .  .  ! 

You  sheiks  .  .  . ! 

You  Thibet  trader  .  .  .  ! 

You  Japanese  .  .  . ! 

All  you  continentals  of  Asia,  Africa,  Europe,  Australia, 

indifferent  of  place  !  .  .  . 
Health  to  you  !  good  will  to  you  all,  from  me  and  America 

sent !  .  .  . 
You  Hottentot  with  clicking  palate  !  you  woolly-hair'd 

hordes  !  .  .  . 

You  dwarf  'd  Kamtschatkan,  Greenlander,  Lapp  ! 
You  Austral  negro,  naked,  red,  sooty,  with  protrusive  lip, 

groveling,  seeking  your  food  ! 
You  Caffre,  Berber,  Soudanese  ! 
You  haggard,  uncouth,  untutor'd  Bedowee  ! 
You  plague-swarms  in  Madras,  Nankin,  Kaubul,  Cairo  ! 
You  benighted  roamer  of  Amazonia  !  you  Patagonian  ! 

you  Feejeeman  ! 

I  do  not  prefer  others  so  very  much  before  you  either, 
I  do  not  say  one  word  against  you,  .  .  . 
Salut  au  monde  /  .  .  . 
Toward  you  all,  in  America's  name, 
I  raise  high  the  perpendicular  hand,  I  make  the  signal. .  .  . 

WALT  WHITMAN 

Salut  au  Monde  !  (1856) 


725 


XENOPHOBIA 


HATING  THE  DUTCH 

Holland,  that  scarce  deserves  the  name  of  land. 
As  but  th'  off-scouring  of  the  British  sand,  .... 
This  indigested  vomit  of  the  sea 
Fell  to  the  Dutch  by  just  propriety. 

Glad,  then,  as  miners  who  have  found  the  oar, 
They,  with  mad  labour,  fish'd  the  land  to  shoar  ; 
And  div'd  as  desperately  for  each  piece 
Of  earth,  as  if  't  had  been  of  ambergreece  ; 
Collecting  anxiously  small  loads  of  clay, 
Less  then  what  building  swallows  bear  away  ; 
Or  then  those  pills  which  sordid  beetles  roul, 
Transfusing  into  them  their  dunghil  soul.  .  .  . 

Yet  still  his  claim  the  injur'd  ocean  laid, 
And  oft  at  leap-frog  ore  their  steeples  plaid 
A  daily  deluge  over  them  does  boyl ; 
The  earth  and  water  play  at  level-coyl. 
The  fish  oft-times  the  burger  dispossest, 
And  sat,  not  as  a  meat,  but  as  a  guest, 
And  oft  the  Tritons  and  the  sea-nymphs  saw 
Whole  sholes  of  Dutch  serv'd  up  for  Cabillau  ; 
Or,  as  they  over  the  new  level  rang'd, 
For  pickled  herring,  pickled  heeren  chang'd.  .  .  . 

726 


Therefore  Necessity,  that  first  made  kings. 
Something  like  government  among  them  brings. . . . 
'Tis  probable  Religion,  after  this. 
Came  next  in  order,  which  they  could  not  miss  ; . . . 
Sure  when  Religion  did  itself  imbark, 
And  from  the  East  would  Westward  steer  its  ark, 
It  struck,  and  splitting  on  this  unknown  ground, 
Each  one  thense  pillag'd  the  first  piece  he  found  : 
Hence  Amsterdam,  Turk-Christian-Pagan-Jew, 
Staple  of  sects,  and  mint  of  Schisme  grew  ; .  .  . . 
In  vain  for  Catholicks  our  selves  we  bear  ; 
The  universal  church  is  only  there.  .  .  . 
How  fit  a  title  clothes  their  governours, 
Themselves  the  hogs,  as  all  their  subjects  bores  ! . . . 

ANDREW   MARVELL 

Character  of  Holland  (1672) 


HATING  THE  SPANISH 

In  contemplacion  of  all  which  things,  who  would  not  be 
incouraged  to  proceed  in  this  Voiage,  having  in  a  maner 
none  other  cnemyes  but  these  Spaniards,  abhorred  of 
God  and  man  ? 

SIR  WALTER   RALEIGH 

Of  the  Voyage  for  Guiana  (c.  1598) 


HATING  THE  FRENCH 

Frenchmen   are    not   human  beings,   and    must    under 
no  circumstances  be  dealt  with  as  such.  If  a  German 

727 


nevertheless  lowers  himself  to  treat  a  Frenchman 
humanly,  he  is  only  doing  it  in  order  not  to  come  down 
to  the  level  of  the  French. 

The  German  must  therefore  avoid  having  any  volun- 
tary dealings  with  a  Frenchman,  as  otherwise  he  is  dirtying 
himself  and  the  German  people  indelibly. 

Pforzheimer  Anzeiger 
(1933) 


His  .reply  to  the  person  who  complimented  him  on  its 
[the  Dictionary's]  coming  out  .  .  .  mentioning  the  ill 
success  of  the  French  in  a  similar  attempt,  is  well  known  ; 
and,  I  trust  has  been  often  recorded :  "  Why,  what  would 
you  expect,  dear  Sir  (said  he)  from  fellows  that  eat  frogs  ?  " 

HESTHER   PIOZZI 

Anecdotes  of  Dr  Johnson 

(1786) 


HATING  THE  BABYLONIANS 

Remember  the  children  of  Edom,  O  Lord,  in  the  day  of 
Jerusalem ;  how  they  said,  Downe  with  it,  downe  with 
it,  even  to  the  ground. 
O  daughter  of  Babylon,  wasted  with  misery  :  yea,  happy 

shall  he  be  that  rewardeth  thee,  as  thou  hast  served  us. 
Blessed  shall  he  be  that  taketh  thy  children  :  and  throweth 
them  against  the  stones. 

Psalm  137.  Book  of  Common  Prayer 
Trans.  Miles  Coverdale  (1611  edition) 

728 


HATING  ALL  FOREIGNERS 


To  the  banisht  Earle  I  came  to  render  thankes,  when  thus 
he  examined  and  schoold  me. 

Countriman,  tell  me  what  is  the  occasion  of  thy 
straying  so  farre  out  of  England.,  to  visit  this  strange 
nation  ?  If  it  bee  languages,  thou  maist  learne  them  at 
home,  nought  but  lasciviousnesse  is  to  bee  learnt  here. 
Perhaps  to  be  better  accounted  of  than  others  of  thy  condi- 
tion, thou  ambitiously  undertakest  this  voyage  :  these 
insolent  fancies  are  but  Icarus  feathers,  whose  wanton 
waxe  melted  against  the  Sunne  will  betray  thee  into  a  sea 
of  confusion. 

The  first  traveller  was  Cain,  and  he  was  called  a  vag- 
abond runnagate  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  .  .  . 

God  had  not  greater  curse  to  lay  upon  the  Israelites,  than 
by  leading  them  out  of  their  owne  countrey  to  live  as  slaves 
in  a  strange  land.  That  which  was  their  curse,  we  English- 
men count  our  chiefe  blessednes,  hee  is  no  bodie  that  hath 
not  traveld  :  wee  had  rather  live  as  slaves  in  another  land, 
croutch  and  cap,  and  be  servile  to  everie  jelous  Italians 
and  proud  Spaniards  Humor,  where  we  may  neither  speak 
looke  nor  doo  anie  thing  but  what  pleaseth  them :  than  live 
as  freemen  and  Lords  in  our  owne  Countrey. 

He  that  is  a  traveller  must  have  the  backe  of  an  asse  to 
beare  all,  a  tung  like  the  taile  of  a  dog  to  flatter  all,  the 
mouth  of  a  hogge  to  eate  what  is  set  before  him,  the  eare 
of  a  merchant  to  heare  all  and  say  nothing  :  and  if  this  be 
not  the  highest  step  of  thraldome,  there  is  no  libertie  or 
freedome 

If  thou  doost  but  lend  half  a  looke  to  a  Romans  or 
Italians  wife,  thy  porredge  shalbe  prepared  for  thee,  and 

729 


cost  thee  nothing  but  thy  lyfe.  Chance  some  of  them 
breake  a  bitter  jest  on  thee,  and  thou  retortst  it  severely,  or 
seemest  discontented  :  goe  to  they  chamber,  and  provide 
a  great  blanket,  for  thou  shalt  be  sure  to  be  visited  with 
guests  in  a  mask  the  next  night,  when  in  kindness  and 
courtship  thy  throat  shall  be  cut,  and  the  dooers  returne 
undiscovered.  .  .  . 

What  is  there  in  Fraunce  to  bee  learned  more  than  in 
England,  but  falshood  in  fellowship,  perfect  slovenrie,  to 
love  no  man  but  for  my  pleasure,  to  sweare  Ah  par  la  mort 
Dieu.  ...  I  have  knowen  some  that  have  continued  there 
by  the  space  of  halfe  a  dozzen  yeares,  and  when  they  come 
home,  they  have  hid  a  little  weerish  leane  face  under  a 
broad  French  hat,  kept  a  terrible  coyle  with  the  dust  in 
the  streete  in  their  long  cloakes  .  .  .  and  spoke  English 
strangely.  Nought  els  have  they  profited  by  their  travell, 
save  learnt  to  distinguish  of  the  true  Burdcax  Grape,  and 
knowe  a  cup  of  neate  Gascoigne  wine  from  wine  of  Orleans 
....  and  v/alk  melancholy  with  their  Armcs  folded. 

From  Spaine  what  bringeth  our  Traveller  ?  A  scull 
crowned  hat  of  the  fashion  of  an  olde  deepe  porringer,  a 
diminutive  Aldermans  ruffe.  ...  A  soldier  and  a  braggart 
he  is  (thats  concluded)  he  jetteth  strouting,  dancing  on 
hys  toes  with  his  hands  under  his  sides.  If  you  talk  with 
him,  he  makes  a  dishcloth  of  his  owne  Countrey  in 
comparison  of  Spaine.,  but  if  you  urge  him  more  particu- 
larly wherein  it  exceeds,  he  can  give  no  instance  but  in 
Spaine  they  have  better  bread  than  any  we  have  :  when 
(pore  hungrie  slaves)  they  may  crumble  it  into  water  well 
inough  .  .  .  for  they  have  not  a  good  morsell  of  meate 
except  it  be  salt  piltchers  to  eat  with  it  all  the  yere  long  : 
and  which  is  more,  they  are  poore  beggars,  and  lye  in 
fowle  straw  everie  night. 

730 


Italy the  Paradice  of  the  earth,  and  the  Epicures  heaven, 
how  doth  it  forme  our  yong  master  ?  It  makes  him  to  kiss 
his  hand  like  an  ape,  cringe  his  necke  like  a  starveling,  and 
play  at  hey  passe  repasse  come  aloft  when  he  salutes  a 
man.  From  thence  he  brings  the  art  of  atheisme,  the 
art  of  epicurising,  the  art  of  whoring,  the  art  of  poysoning, 
the  art  of  Sodomitrie.  The  onely  probable  good  thing 
they  have  to  keepe  us  from  utterly  condemning  it  is,  that 
it  maketh  a  man  an  excellent  Courtier,  a  curious  carpet 
knight  :  which  is,  by  interpretation,  a  fine  close  leacher,  a 
glorious  hipocrite.  It  is  no  we  a  privie  note  amonst  the 
better  sort  of  men,  when  they  would  set  a  singular  marke 
or  brand  in  a  notorious  villaine,  to  say,  he  hath  beene  in 
Italy. 

With  the  Dane  and  the  Dutchman  I  will  not  encounter, 
for  they  are  simple  honest  men,  that . . .  doe  nothing  but  fill 
bottomles  tubs,  and  will  be  drunke  and  snort  in  the  midst 
of  dinner :  he  hurts  himself  only  that  goes  thither,  he  can- 
not lightly  be  damned,  for  the  vintners,  the  brewers,  the 
malt-men,  and  ale  wives  pray  for  him.  .  .  .  But  lightly  a  man 
is  nere  the  better  for  their  prayers,  for  they  commit  all 
deadly  sin  for  the  most  part  of  them  in  mingling  their 
drinke,  the  vintners  in  the  highest  degree.  .  .  . 

THOMAS   NASHE 

The  Unfortunate  Traveller  (1594) 


Thos  old  Hebrews  esteemed  the  whole  world  Gentiles ; 
the  Greeks  held  all  Barbarians  but  themselves  ;  our  modern 
Italians  account  of  us  as  dull  Transalpines  by  way  of 
approach,  they  scorn  thee  and  thy  country,  which  thou  so 
much  admires t.  'Tis  a  childish  humour  to  hone  after 

731 


home,  to  be  discontent  at  that  which  others  seek  ;  to 
prefer,  as  base  Icelanders  and  Norwegians  doe  their  own 
ragged  Island  before  Italy  or  Greece,  the  Gardens  of  the 
world.  There  is  a  base  Nation  in  the  North,  saith  Pliny , 
called  Chauciy  that  live  amongst  rockes  and  sands  by  the 
sea  side,  feede  on  fish,  drinke  water ;  and  yet  these  base 
people  account  themselves  slaves  in  respect  when  they 
come  to  Rome. 

ROBERT   BURTON 

The  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  (1621.  Edition  1632) 


HATING  GERMAN  FIDDLERS 

The  players  being  denied  coming  to  Oxford  by  the  Vice- 
Chancellor,  and  that  very  rightly,  tho'  they  might  as  well 
have  been  here  as  Handell  and  his  lowsy  crew,  a  great 
number  of  foreign  fidlers. 

THOMAS   HEARNE 

Diary  (July  6th,  1733) 


732 


ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 

I  should  like  to  thank,  for  permission  to  use  copyright  material, 
the  following  authors,  authors'  representatives,  and  publishers  : 
Mr.  David  Garnett  and  Messrs.  Chatto  &  Windus,  A  Rabbit  in  the 
Air  ;  Mr.  Stuart  Gilbert  and  Messrs.  Desmond  Harmsworth, 
Night  Flight,  Mr.  T.  Hodgkin  and  the  Oxford  University  Press, 
translation  of  a  letter  of  Sidonius  ;  the  family  of  Gerard  Manley 
Hopkins  and  the  Oxford  University  Press,  A  Vision  of  the  Mer- 
maids, and  The  Stars  ;  Mr.  Robert  Lynd  and  Messrs.  Methuen 
&  Co.,  Happy  England ;  Miss  E.  J.  Scovell,  A  girl  and  her  sister  ; 
Mr,  Logan  Pearsall  Smith  and  Messrs.  Constable  &  Co.,  Trivia 
and  More  Trivia  j  Mr.  R.  E.  Tickell  and  Messrs.  Constable  &  Co., 
Thomas  Tickell ;  Mrs.  Woolf  and  the  Hogarth  Press,  Orlando ;  Mr. 
Thomas  Wright  and  Messrs.  Everett  &  Co.,  The  Life  of  Sir 
Richard  Burton  ;  Messrs.  Macmillan,  G.  C.  Macaulay's  translation 
of  Herodotus ;  Messrs.  Constable  &  Co.,  Emerson's  Journal ; 
Professor  Fmdlay  and  Messrs.  Longman's,  Chemistry  in  the 
Service  of  Man  j  and  the  Trustees  of  the  British  Museum  for 
leave  to  use  various  B.M.  MSS.  I  am  also  very  grateful  to  Miss 
Marjorie  Hope  Nicholson  and  the  Yale  University  Press  for  per- 
mission to  use  Miss  Nicholson's  edition  of  the  Conway  Letters  in 
quoting  from  these.  Finally,  I  should  like  gratefully  to  acknow- 
ledge the  skilful,  valuable  and  unwearying  help  of  Miss  D.  E. 
Marshall. 


733 


INDEX  OF  AUTHORS  AND 
TRANSLATORS 

ADDISON,  JOSEPH,  212,  665 

ALDRICH,  HENRY,  63 

ANON,  40,  44,  48,  75,  89,  201,  211,  214,  249,  257,  279, 
291,  344,  359,  489,  501,  561,  562,  580,  602,  616,  629, 
646,  727 

ANYTE,  461 

APOLLINARIS,  SIDONIUS,  314,  695 

APOLLODORUS,  522 

ASHMOLE,  ELIAS,  146 

AUBREY,  JOHN,  22,  25,  26,  31,  54,  81,  107,  131,  134,  144, 
169,  178,  179,  180,  187,  191,  192,  202,  229,  231,  233, 
270,  274,  282,  299,  306,  329^  33 i,  33^  340.  344.  349, 
359,  363,  369,  399,  433,  434,  44^,  467,  5">  5^8,  53i> 
534,  558,  592,  615,  626,  631,  637,  659,  660,  671,  689, 
703,  710 

AUGUSTINE,  ST.  (OF  HIPPO),  442,  648 

AUSTEN,  JANE,  568,  629,  700 

AYLOFFE,  WILLIAM,  548 

B.,  J.,  123 

BACON,  FRANCIS,  238,  285,  298,  475,  636,  709 

BALLANTYNE,  R.  M.,  47 

BARCLAY,  ALEXANDER,  117 

BARTHOLOMEW,  ANGLICUS,  15,  66,  67,  353,  511 

BAXTER,  RICHARD,  435 

BEND,  SIR  ANTHONY,  307 

735 


BEST,  H.  D.,  30,  128 

BLAKE,  WILLIAM,  339,  552,  554 

BLANCHARD,  JEAN  PIERRE,  94 

BLESSINGTON,  LADY,  53,  248,  381 

BORROW,  GEORGE,  192 

BOSWELL,  JAMES,  32,  38,  58,  59, 78, 120, 135, 217, 225, 234, 

333.  347.  352,  379,  396,  440,  445,  487,  534,  541,  546, 

554,  613,  625,  630,  662 

BRANDT,  SEBASTIAN,  117 

BRETON,  NICHOLAS,  108,  372,  557,  559 

BROWN,  TOM,  180,  259,  351,  516,  620,  663 

BROWNE,  ISAAC  HAWKINS,  621 

BROWNE,  SIR  THOMAS,  44,  133,  142,  145,  171,  175,  177, 

235.  250,  335,  338,  501,  583,  588,  645,  654,  675 
BROWNING,  ELIZABETH,  221 
BROWNING,  ROBERT,  200,  383,  428 
BUCKLEY,  T.  A.,  275 

BULWER,  JOHN,  114,  284,  584,  649,  651,  652,  653 
BUONAPARTE,  NAPOLEON,  212 
BURGES,  GEORGE,  390 
BURNET,  GILBERT,  299 
BURNEY,  FANNY,  51,  546 
BURTON,  ROBERT,  80,  82,  85,  213,  224,  230,  233,  263,  283, 

289,  314,  341,  448,  4793  512,  532,  535,  54~4,  551,  600, 

609,  657,  676,  688,  711,  731 
BUSHNELL,  SAMUEL  C.,  425 
BUTLER,  SAMUEL,  326,  376 
BYRON,  LORD,  182,  194,  195,  213,  285,  326,  370,  475, 

476,  477,  478,  595,  624,  627,  628,  659 

C.,  J.,  436 

CAIUS,  JOHN,  507 
CALAMY,  EDMUND,  134,  436,  671 
CAMDEN,  WILLIAM,  173,  619 

736 


CAMPION,  THOMAS,  166,  306,  714 

CANNING,  GEORGE,  265 

CARANCA,  RODRIGO  DE,  129 

CARLYLE,  THOMAS,  184,  542 

CASGRAIN,  ABBE,  304 

CATULLUS,  503 

CAVENDISH,  MARGARET  DUCHESS  OF  NEWCASTLE,  653 

CAVENDISH,  WILLIAM  DUKE  OF  NEWCASTLE,  403 

CHAPMAN,  GEORGE,  208,  218,  239,  276,  319,  621 

CICERO,  M.  ^,254,295,  296, 298,  312,  420,  451,  480,  495, 

694 

CLOUGH,  A.  H.,  712 
CONGREVE,  WILLIAM,  120,  121,  136,  221,  223,  323,  350, 

351,  379,  401,  414,  517,  571,  593,  638 
CON  WAY,  LORD,  380 
CORBET,  RICHARD,  62 

COVERDALE,  MlLES,  461,  499,  569,  728 

COWLEY,  ABRAHAM,  209,  246,  311,  335,  465 
COWPER,  WILLIAM,  327,  513 
CRASHAW,  RICHARD,  611 

DAUDET,  ALPHONSE,  598 

DAVENANT,  SIR  WILLIAM,  332 

DAVIES,  SIR  JOHN,  149,  616 

DEFOE,  DANIEL,  696 

DENNIS,  JOHN,  689 

DICKENS,  CHARLES,  630 

DIDEROT,  DENIS,  540 

DISRAELI,  ISAAC,  26,  27, 117, 119, 137, 190, 196,  302,  376, 

4i?>  522,  533>  536 
DONNE,  JOHN,  336 
DONNELLAN,  MRS.,  450 
DOWSING,  WILLIAM,  188 

ZP  737 


DRAYTON,  MICHAEL,  62,  74,  83,  131,  174,  394,  427,  462, 

488,  639,  644 
DRYDEN,  JOHN,  52, 101,  212,  269,  402,  460,  488,  492,  553, 

720 
Du  BARTAS,  GUILLAUME,  389,  418 

EARLE,  JOHN,  599 
ELIZABETH,  QUEEN,  586,  612 
ELLWOOD,  THOMAS,  251,  532 
ELYOT,  SIR  THOMAS,  230 
EMERSON,  RALPH  WALDO,  459 
ERONDELL,  PIERRE,  in,  364,  474,  486,  556,  606 
ESTIENNE,  CHARLES,  79,  81,  140,  244,  512,  513,  614,  718 
ETHEREGE,  SIR  GEORGE,  109,  255,  375,  409,  426,  722 
EVELYN,  JOHN,  15,  108,  116,  148,  235,  236,  237,  243,  244, 
271,  310,  322,  464,  469,  471,  586,  635,  655,  681,  683 

FABYAN,  ROBERT,  305 

FALLERSLEBEN,  H.  V.,  500 

FANSHAWE,  SIR  RICHARD,  490 

FARLEY,  HENRY,  60 1 

FARQUHAR,  GEORGE,  408,  426,  551 

FINDLAY,  ALEXANDER,  348 

FlTZSTEPHEN,  WILLIAM,  322 

FLEMING,  ABRAHAM,  507 

FLORIO,  JOHN,  201,  277,  294,  295,  343,  466,  536,  584,  648 

FONTENELLE,  BERNARD  DE,  21,  IO2,  104,  193,  196,  264, 

308,  325.  355>  358,  3?65  536 
FULLER,  THOMAS,  608 

GAGE,  THOMAS,  591 

GAMBLE,  JOHN,  22,  166 

GARNETT,  DAVID,  98 

GIBBON,  EDWARD,  29,  36,  309,  342,  458 

GILBERT,  STUART,  99 

738 


GLANVILL,  JOHN,  21,  102,  104,  193,  196,  264,  308,  325, 

355>  358,  376,  536 
GOLDING,  ARTHUR,  459 
GOLDSMITH,  OLIVER,  31,  181,  288,  543,  657 
GOSSON,  STEPHEN,  172,  505,  519 
GOUGH,  RICHARD,  116,  117 
GRAY,  THOMAS,  484 
GRENEWEY,  RICHARD,  305 
GRONOW,  R.  H.,  183 
GUNNING,  HENRY,  37,  439,  625 

HALL,  JOSEPH,  210,  261,  595,  612,  675,  704 

HAWES,  STEPHEN,  278,  320 

HAWKINS,  SIR  JOHN,  687 

HEARNE,  THOMAS,  181,  259,  307,  436,  439,  545,  615,  732 

HENRY  OF  HUNTINGDON,  305 

HERBERT,  GEORGE,  198,  666 

HERODOTUS,  163,  224,  265,  468,  581,  608,  638 

HEROLT,  JOANNES,  659 

HERRICK,  ROBERT,  29,  252,  330,  337,  373,  419,  454,  462, 

697,  712,  716 
HERRINGMAN,  HENRY,  175 
HEYRICK,  THOMAS,  385 
HEY  WOOD,  THOMAS,  518 
HILL,  GEORGE  BIRKBECK,  440 
HOBBES,  THOMAS,  141 
HODGKIN,  T.,  314,  695 
HOLLAND,  PHILEMON,  68,  70,  71,  72,  74,  115,  188,  197, 

294>  353.  362,  387*  4?8,  496,  502,  504,  506,  582,  641 
HOMER,  208,  218,  239,  275,  276,  319,  695 
HOOKES,  NICHOLAS,  242 
HOPKINS,  G.  M.,  104,  391 
HORACE,  171,  495 

739 


HUNT,  LEIGH,  212,  286,  519,  691 
HUTCHINSON,  LUCY,  287,  413,  575 

INCHBALD,  MRS.,  419 

JAMES  I,  617,  660 

JENNER,  THOMAS,  619 

JEROME,  ST,  330,  647 

JEWSBURY,  GERALDINE,  285 

JEWSBURY,  MARIA  JANE,  423 

JOHNSON,  SAMUEL,  269,  333,  352,  419,  611,  663 

JOHNSON,  REV.  SAMUEL,  444 

JOHNSON,  W.,  214 

JOHNSTON,  WILLIAM,  293 

JONSON,  BEN,  283,  622,  692 

JORDAN,  THOMAS,  368 

KEATS,  JOHN,  88,  168,  389 
KEMP,  WILLIAM,  165 
KEN,  THOMAS,  215 
KNOX,  CAPTAIN,  303 

LA  FAYETTE,  MADAME  DE,  137 
LAMB,  CHARLES,  213,  427,  613 
LANGHORNE,  J.  and  W.,  640 
LAW,  WILLIAM,  539 
LEONIDAS  OF  TARENTUM,  390 
L'ESTRANGE,  SIR  NICHOLAS,  229,  629 

LlNSCHOTEN,  J.  H.  VAN,  302 

LOVELACE,  RICHARD,  529 
LUNARDI,  V.,  92,  94 
LYND,  ROBERT,  185 

740 


MACAULAY,  G.  C.,  163,  224,  265,  468,  581,  608,  638 

MACAULAY,  MARGARET,  226 

MACAULAY,  T.  B.,  225 

MARLOWE,  CHRISTOPHER,  705,  707 

MAROLLES,  MICHEL  DE,  344 

MARSTON,  JOHN,  222 

MARTIAL,  510,  646 

MARVELL,  ANDREW,  463,  677,  726 

MAYNE,  JASPER,  129 

MENNIS,  SIR  JOHN,  85,  331 

MICHELET,  J.,  497 

MILTON,  JOHN,  38,  59,  105,  161,  164,  202,  204,  240,  241, 

328,  334,  340,  347,  400,  405,  406,  431,  433,  434,  442, 

448,  491,  537,  611,  634,  643,  690,  701 
MOLIERE,  JEAN,  422,  567 
MONTAIGNE,  MICHEL  DE,  201, 277, 294, 295, 343, 466,  536, 

584,  648 

MONTI,  VINCENZO,  500 

MORE,  HANNAH,  113,  310,  485,  516,  540,  666,  698 
MORE,  HENRY,  39,  147,  444,  545,  686 
MORE,  SIR  THOMAS,  304 
MORLEY,  THOMAS,  165 
MORRICE,  J.,  436 
MORTON,  THOMAS,  610,  707 
MOYLE,  WALTER,  383,  642,  688 

NASHE,  THOMAS,  293,  316,  678,  729 
NORTH,  SIR  THOMAS,  194,  313,  398,  592 

OAKMAN,  JOHN,  96 

OSBORNE,  DOROTHY,  138,  175,  538,  579,  585,  685 

OVID,  45,  52,  86,  223,  269,  274,  379,  402,  421,  422,  459, 

460,  518,  646,  672 
OWEN,  WILLIAM,  293 

74i 


PARKER,  SAMUEL,  295,  296,  298,  451 

PEACHAM,  HENRY,  43,  86,  200,  479,  720,  722 

PEPYS,  SAMUEL,  25,  55,  120,  145,  222,  246,  330,  369,  378, 

391, 402, 482,  504,  541, 544,  555,  587, 667, 674, 680, 692 
PERCY,  SHOLTO  and  REUBEN,  524,  525,  527,  528 
PERCY,  WILLIAM,  39 
PIOZZI,  HESTHER,  78,  205,  271,  346,  445,  544,  628,  631, 

637,  641,  728 
PLAUTUS,  609 
PLINY  (ELDER),  68,  70,  71,  72,  74, 115, 188,  294,  353,  387, 

478,  502,  504,  506,  582 
PLINY  (YOUNGER),  550 

PLUTARCH,  194,  197,  313,  362,  398,  496,  592,  640,  641 
POPE,  ALEXANDER,  119,  266,  268,  555,  656 
POPE,  WALTER,  447 
PRYNNE,  WILLIAM,  444,  530 

QUEVEDO,  F.  G.  DE,  397 

RABUTIN,  COMTE  DE  BUSSY,  555 

RALEIGH,  SIR  WALTER,  127,  129,  143,  376,  481,  626,  648, 

673>  685,  708,  727 
RAY,  JOHN,  146 
REVENEL,  J.,  527 
REYNOLDS,  FREDERICK,  30,  31 
RICHARDSON,  SAMUEL,  299,  382,  410,  411 
ROGER  OF  WENDOVER,  305 
ROLAND,  MADAME,  525 
ROYDON,  MATTHEW,  280 
RUFUS,  M.  CAELIUS,  254 
RUFUS,  SERVIUS  SULPICIUS,  250 

SAINT-EXUP£RY,  A.  DE,  99 
SALTONSTALL,  WYE,  45,  422 

742 


SAN  BARTOLOMEO,  P.  DA,  214 

SAVAGE,  JOHN,  397 

SAVAGE,  RICHARD,  524 

SAVILE,  SIR  HENRY,  118 

SCOVELL,  E.  J.,  632 

SELDEN,  JOHN,  217,  218 

SHAKESPEARE,  W.,  79,  207,  281,  304,  353 

SHELLEY,  P.  B.,  51,  182,  195,  395,  420,  514,  691 

SHERIDAN,  RICHARD,  711 

SIDNEY,  SIR  PHILIP,  230,  337 

SKELTON,  JOHN,  503 

SMITH,  LOGAN  PEARSALL,  169,  185,  199,  263,  312,  487, 

589,  709 

SMITH,  SYDNEY,  122,  215 
SMITH,  WILLIAM,  307 

SMOLLETT,  TOBIAS,  49,  50,  220,  233,  315,  484 
SOUTHERNE,  THOMAS,  684 
SOUTHEY,  ROBERT,  590 
SPENCE,  JOSEPH,  330 
SPENSER,  EDMUND,  205 
STANHOPE,  PHILIP,  LORD  CHESTERFIELD,  375 
STEDMAN,  FABIAN,  63 

STEELE,  SIR  RICHARD,  57,  58,  382,  597,  710 
STERNE,  LAURENCE,  533 
STOW,  JOHN,  in,  322 
STRUCT,  JOSEPH,  231,  232 
STUBBES,  PHILIP,  371,  668,  669 
SUCKLING,  SIR  JOHN,  404 

SURFLET,  RICHARD,  79,  81,  140,  244,  512,  513,  614,  718 
SWAN,  JOHN,  393,  515,  623 
SWIFT,  JONATHAN,  16,  112,  121,  123,  124,  181,  415,  436, 

441,  449,  589,  672 
SYLVESTER,  JOSHUA,  389,  418 

743 


TACITUS,  305 

TEMPLE,  SIR  WILLIAM,  247,  467 

THEOCRITUS,  291 

THOMSON,  JAMES,  494 

TICKELL,  MRS.,  260 

TOPSELL,  EDWARD,  64,  65,  66,  68,  71,  198,  508 

TRAHERNE,  THOMAS,  324,  361,  704 

TRELAWNEY,  E.  J.,  17,  19,  286 

TREVISA,  JOHN,  15,  66,  67,  353,  511 

TYNDALE,  WILLIAM,  349,  705 

VERNON,  MR.,  274,  672 

VILLIERS,  GEORGE,  DUKE  OF  BUCKINGHAM,  33 

VOLTAIRE,  F.  M.  A.  DE,  585,  656 

W.,  Is.,  253 

WALLER,  EDMUND,  446 

WALPOLE,  HORACE,  97,  143,  205,  260,  270,  321,  380,  418, 

424,  449,  457,  485,  553,  680,  687 
WALTON,  IZAAK,  24,  82,  83,  85,  105,  132,  139,  147,  170, 

312,  345,  442,  550,  588,  693 
WARBURTON,  WILLIAM,  267,  268 
WATTS,  ISAAC,  193,  333 
WELSH,  JANE,  139,  277,  543,  699 
WHITMAN,  WALT,  214,  377,  378,  396,  425,  498,  718,  723 
WILKINS,  JOHN,  88,  384 
WILMOT,  JOHN,  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER,  260,  381 
WOOD,  ANTHONY,  28,  54,  132,  176,  177,  257,  370,  441, 

442,481,631 
WOOLF,  VIRGINIA,  323 
WRIGHT,  THOMAS,  189 
WYCHERLEY,  WILLIAM,  216,  339,  410,  448,  450,  680 


744 


INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES 
OF  VERSE 

A  girl  said  to  her  sister,  late,  when  their  friends  had 

gone  page  632 

A  glimpse  through  an  interstice  caught  377 

A  goodly  hall  320 

Ah  Posthumus  \  Our  yeares  hence  flye  454 

A  learned  and  a  happy  Ignorance  324 

All  nobilitie  692 

Among  so  many  crownes  of  burnisht  gold  707 

And  first  of  all,  my  hart  gan  to  learne  278 

And  now  unveil'd,  the  Toilet  stands  display'd  656 

And  now  what  Monarch  would  not  Gardener  be  242 

And  prytely  he  wolde  pant  503 

And  Spanish  paper,  Lip  and  Cheek  655 

And  to  your  more  bewitching,  see,  the  proud  330 

As  I  sat  in  the  cafe  I  said  to  myself  712 

As  large,  as  bright,  as  coloured  as  the  bow  389 

As  you  Apollo's  Eldest  Off-Spring  are  448 

A  time  there  is  for  all,  my  mother  often  sayes  230 

At  last  an  hospitable  House  they  found  402 

At  Shearing  time  she  shall  commaund  559 

Awake,  awake,  my  little  boy  339 

Bee  dum  ye  infant  chimes,  thump  not  the  mettle          62 

Behold  !  how  Hymens  Taper-light  716 

Behold  the  populous  City  in  her  pride  422 

745 


Bella  Italia,  amate  sponde  page  500 

Busie  old  foole,  unruly  Sunne  336 

But  inward  round,  in  rowes  there  stand  720 
By  the  waters  of  Babylon  we  sate  downe  and  wept    499 

City  of  orgies,  walks  and  joys  425 

Come  sleepe,  o  sleepe,  the  certaine  knot  of  peace  337 

Come  Sons  of  Summer,  by  whose  toile  373 

Damnosa  quid  non  imminuit  dies  ?  171 

Deutshe  Worte  hor  ich  wieder  500 

Deutschland,  Deutschland,  iiber  alles  500 

Diana  and  her  Darlings  dear  48 

Down  in  a  garden  sat  my  dearest  love  580 

Even  as  the  sun  with  purple  colour'd  face  207 


For  this  is  my  minde,  this  one  pleasoure  have  I  117 
For  when  the  Saxons  first  receaved  the  Christian 

Faith  131 

From  noise  of  Scare-fires  rest  ye  free  337 

From  the  dull  confines  of  the  drooping  West  419 

From  the  first  Age  the  Theater  hath  been  518 

Fye  ;  what  a  trouble  'tis  to  count  this  trash  705 

Gather  ye  Rose-buds  while  ye  may  252 

Grrr — there  go,  my  heart's  abhorrence  383 

Had  I  but  plenty  of  money,  money  enough  and  to 

spare  428 

746 


Haste  hither  Eve,  and  worth  thy  sight  behold  page  701 

Henry  the  Fifth,  he  conquered  all  France  489 

Here  could  I  tell  you  how  upon  the  seas  616 

Here  was  he  208 

He  travelleth  to  Tames,  where  passing  by  those 

Townes  62 

Hey  !  who  comes  heere  ail-along  165 

Holland,  that  scarce  deserves  the  name  of  land  726 

Homer  of  Moly  and  Nepenthe  sings  616 


I  Beheld  her  on  a  Day  283 

I  come  from  the  city  of  Boston  425 

I  danced  the  polka  and  Cellarius  221 

If  I  live  to  be  Old,  for  I  find  I  go  down  447 

I  find  no  cause  nor  judge  I  reason  why  488 

I  heard  the  Ruffian-Shepherd  rudely  blow  52 
I  hear  emulous  shouts  of  Australians  pursuing  the 

wild  horse  723 

I  know  not  love  (quoth  he)  nor  will  not  know  it  79 

In  matters  of  commerce,  the  fault  of  the  Dutch  265 

In  rennynge  the  exercise  is  good  also  201 
In  Sparta  long  agoe,  where  Menelaus  wore  the 

crowne  291 
In  this  Kings  reigne  Pomona  lived.  There  was  not  to 

bee  found  459 

In  this  pleasant  soile  240 

In  various  talk  th'  instructive  hours  they  past  119 

I  saw  a  countrey  lasse  22 

I  saw  new  Worlds  beneath  the  Water  lye  361 
I  saw  the  marriage  of  the  trapper  in  the  open  air  in 

the  far  west  718 

It  grieves  me  when  I  see  what  Fate  293 

It  was  in  June,  and  'twas  on  Barnaby  Bright  too  40 

747 


I  was  glad  when  they  said  unto  me  :  We  wil  go  into 

the  house  of  the  Lord  page  499 

I  would  be  married,  but  Pde  have  no  wife  611 


Land  of  coal  and  iron  !  land  of  gold  !  land  of  cotton, 

sugar,  rice  498 

Let  there  be  Patrons  ;  patrons  like  to  thee  29 

Let  us  drink  and  be  merry,  dance,  Joke,  and  Rejoice  368 

Like  heavens  two  maine  lights  319 

Little  Tube  of  mighty  Pow'r  621 

Look  at  the  stars  !  look,  look  up  at  the  skies  104 


Merry,  merry,  merry,  we  sail  from  the  East  101 

Methought  I  saw  my  late  espoused  Saint  340 

Mortals  that  would  follow  me  691 
Most  things  move  th5  under- jaw,  the  Crocodile  not        198 

My  Bed  was  such,  as  Down  nor  Feather  can  331 

My  Cabinets  are  Oyster-shells  653 

My  Garden  fill'd  with  Fruits  you  may  behold  460 

My  Palace,  in  the  living  Rock,  is  made  269 


Neptune  sate  in  his  Chariot  High  385 

Nor  delaid  the  winged  Saint  105 

Now  hath  Flora  rob'd  her  bowers  714 

Now  purer  aire  634 

Now  warre  is  all  the  world  about  490 


Oh  the  bonny  Christchurch  Bells  63 

Oh  the  wild  joys  of  living !  the  leaping  from  rock  up 

to  rock  200 

748 


O  Mine  owne  sweet  heart  page  562 
O  more  than  mortall  man,  that  did  this  Towne  begin     427 

On  a  time  the  amorous  Silvy  561 

On  to  thir  mornings  rural  work  they  haste  241 

Or  Faerie  Elves  164 

O  Thou  that  sleepst  like  Pigg  in  Straw  332 

Phoebe  drest  like  beauty's  queen  552 

Remember  the  children  of  Edom,  O  Lord,  in  the 

day  of  Jerusalem  728 

Saluting  the  deare  soyle,  O  famous  Kent>  quoth 

shee  462 

See  the  Chariot  at  hand  here  of  love  283 
See  where  she  comes  ;  and  smell  how  all  the  street        712 

See  where  she  sits  upon  the  grassie  greene  205 

Shut  up  close  Prisner  in  Mount-Orgueil  Pile  530 

So  from  the  turf  outsprang  two  steeds  jet-black  88 

Soft  Recreations  fit  the  Female-kind  379 

So  hand  in  hand  they  passd,  the  lovliest  pair  400 

Some  talk  of  Gunnersbury  321 

Starrs  Enamour'd  with  Pastimes  Olympicall  75 

Stet  Capitolium  495 

Still  unaccomplish'd  may  the  Maid  be  thought  223 

Strephon,  of  noble  blood  and  mind  193 

Sweet  she  was,  as  kind  a  love  279 

Sublime  Tobacco  \  which  from  East  to  West  624 

Tell  me  you  wandering  spirits  of  the  Ayre  580 

The  Almond  flourisheth,  the  Birch  trees  flowe  645 

The  constant  Cantharus  418 

The  Fishes  in  the  Flood  83 

749 


The  four  and  twentieth  Day  of  May  page  44 

The  Grot  he  enter'd,  Pumice  built  the  Hall  274 

The  Indian  weede  withered  quite  619 

Theis  are  the  spels  which  to  kind  sleep  invite  335 
The  Man  whose  vacant  mind  prepares  him  for  the 

sport  74 

The  Moon,  in  her  pride,  once  glanced  aside  359 

Then,  looking  on  the  waters,  I  was  ware  391 

The  Phoenix  faire  which  rich  Arabia  breedes  307 

There  is  no  happy  life  403 

The  Seas  are  quiet,  when  the  Winds  give  o're  446 
These  Nymphs  trick'd  up  in  tyers,  the  Sea-gods  to 

delight  394 

The  Servants  then  (commanded)  soone  obaid  218 

The  Star  that  bids  the  Shepherd  fold  161 

The  Streets  seem'd  paved  with  golden  stones  704 

The  Tyrian  Merchant,  or  the  Portuguese  389 

The  utmost  Malice  of  their  Stars  is  past  492 

The  world  below  the  brine  396 

Tho'  Miracles  cease  yet  Wonders  increase  96 

Thou  art  a  day  of  mirth  666 

Thou  only  canst  each  absent  Blessing  grant  339 
Thou  who  shalt  stop,  where  Thames'  translucent 

wave  268 

Thro'  the  green  Oake-wood  on  a  lucent  Morn  211 

Thus  talking  hand  in  hand  alone  they  pass'd  334 
Tis  now  a  time  when  (Zephyrus)  all  with  dancing  166 
Tis  the  voice  of  the  Sluggard  ;  I  hear  him  complain  333 

To  encounter  feast  with  houswifry  276 

To  see  a  strange  out-landish  Fowle  60 1 

To  see  his  face,  the  Lyon  walkt  along  281 

To  sup  with  thee  thou  didst  me  home  invite  697 

Travellers  gain  Rest,  but  by  coming  Home  680 

750 


Vertue  could  see  to  do  what  vertue  would  page  690 

Vex'd  with  a  Thousand  Pigmy  friends,  and  such  85 

Wassail  the  trees,  that  they  may  beare  462 

We  allow'd  you  Beauty,  and  we  did  submit  209 

We  flourisht  long  174 

We  things  cal'd  women,  only  made  for  shew  222 

What  is  that  Land,  says  he,  the  Waves  embrace  ?  672 

What  musick  is  there  that  compar'd  may  be  63 

When  Britain  first  at  heaven's  command  494 

When  God  did  Man  to  his  own  likenes  make  246 

When  he  descended  downe  the  mount  280 

When  I  who  was  Amans,  which  we  translate  45 

When  love  with  unconfined  wings  529 
When  Phoebus  lifts  his  head  out  of  the  Winteres 

wave  644 

When  timely  death  my  life  and  fortune  ends  306 

When  the  green  woods  laugh  with  the  voice  of  joy  554 

When  thou  dos't  dance  the  Spheares  doe  play  166 

When  we  have  run  our  Passions  heat  463 

Whereas  the  Hermit  leads  a  sweet  retyred  life  639 

Where  lives  the  man  that  never  yet  did  heare  149 

Where  the  remote  Bermudas  ride  677 

Who  can  live  in  heart  so  glad  557 

Who  is  it  will  repaire  602 

Who  would  not  joy  to  see  his  conquering  hand  465 

Why  shou'd  Old  Age  to  most  so  dreadful  be  ?  450 

With  Horns  and  with  Hounds  I  waken  the  Day  212 

Without  the  hall,  and  close  upon  the  gate  239 

Yesterday  I  went  129 

Ye  Virgins  that  from  Cupids  tents  253 

Y'expect  to  hear  at  least  what  Love  hath  past  260 

Yon  cottager,  who  weaves  at  her  own  door  327 

751 


Printed  in  Great  Britain  by 
The  Gamelot  Press  Ltd.,  London  and  Southampton