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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Curiosities of Literature, Vol. 3 (of 3) + +Author: Isaac Disraeli + +Release Date: January 25, 2010 [EBook #31078] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CURIOSITIES OF LITERATURE, VOL 3 *** + + + + +Produced by Marius Masi, Jonathan Ingram and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<table border="0" cellpadding="10" style="background-color: #dcdcdc; color: #696969; " summary="TN"> +<tr> +<td style="width:25%; vertical-align:top"> +Transcriber's note: +</td> +<td>A few typographical errors have been corrected. They +appear in the text <span class="correction" title="explanation will pop up">like this</span>, and the +explanation will appear when the mouse pointer is moved over the marked +passage. +<br /><br /> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p class="center pt3" style="font-size: 230%;">CURIOSITIES OF LITERATURE.</p> + +<p class="center f90 pt2">BY</p> + +<p class="center pt05" style="font-size: 170%;">ISAAC DISRAELI.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:150px; height:22px" + src="images/img2.jpg" + alt="" /> +</div> + +<p class="center1">EDITED, WITH MEMOIR AND NOTES,</p> + +<p class="center f80 pt2">BY HIS SON,</p> + +<p class="center pt05" style="font-size: 130%;">THE EARL OF BEACONSFIELD.</p> + +<p class="center pt2">IN THREE VOLUMES.<br /> +VOL. III.</p> + +<div class="pt05"> </div> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:100px; height:88px" + src="images/img1.jpg" + alt="" /> +</div> + +<div class="pt05"> </div> + +<p class="center">LONDON:</p> +<p class="center" style="font-size: 120%;">FREDERICK WARNE AND CO.</p> +<p class="center">AND NEW YORK</p> + +<hr class="art" /> + +<h3>CONTENTS OF VOLUME III.</h3> + +<table class="nobctr" width="80%" summary="Contents"> + +<tr style="font-size: 70%; "> <td> </td> + <td class="tc2">PAGE</td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">LOCAL DESCRIPTIONS</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page1">1</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">MASQUES</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page4">4</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">OF DES MAIZEAUX, AND THE SECRET HISTORY OF ANTHONY COLLINS’S MANUSCRIPTS</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page13">13</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">HISTORY OF NEW WORDS</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page23">23</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">THE PHILOSOPHY OF PROVERBS</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page32">32</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">CONFUSION OF WORDS</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page65">65</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">POLITICAL NICKNAMES</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page80">80</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">THE DOMESTIC LIFE OF A POET—SHENSTONE VINDICATED</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page90">90</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">SECRET HISTORY OF THE BUILDING OF BLENHEIM</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page102">102</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">SECRET HISTORY OF SIR WALTER RAWLEIGH</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page111">111</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">AN AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE OF THE LAST HOURS OF SIR WALTER RAWLEIGH</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page124">124</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">LITERARY UNIONS</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page131">131</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">OF A BIOGRAPHY PAINTED</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page136">136</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">CAUSE AND PRETEXT</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page141">141</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">POLITICAL FORGERIES AND FICTIONS</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page144">144</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">EXPRESSION OF SUPPRESSED OPINION</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page150">150</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">AUTOGRAPHS</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page163">163</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">THE HISTORY OF WRITING-MASTERS</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page167">167</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">THE ITALIAN HISTORIANS</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page177">177</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">OF PALACES BUILT BY MINISTERS</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page186">186</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">“TAXATION NO TYRANNY”</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page193">193</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">THE BOOK OF DEATH</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page200">200</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">HISTORY OF THE SKELETON OF DEATH</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page206">206</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">THE RIVAL BIOGRAPHERS OF HEYLIN</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page215">215</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">OF LENGLET DU FRESNOY</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page221">221</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">THE DICTIONARY OF TREVOUX</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page229">229</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">QUADRIO’S ACCOUNT OF ENGLISH POETRY</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page233">233</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">“POLITICAL RELIGIONISM”</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page238">238</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">TOLERATION</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page245">245</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">APOLOGY FOR THE PARISIAN MASSACRE</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page255">255</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">PREDICTION</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page260">260</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">DREAMS AT THE DAWN OF PHILOSOPHY</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page280">280</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">ON PUCK THE COMMENTATOR</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page296">296</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">LITERARY FORGERIES</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page303">303</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">OF LITERARY FILCHERS</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page316">316</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">OF LORD BACON AT HOME</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page320">320</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">SECRET HISTORY OF THE DEATH OF QUEEN ELIZABETH</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page328">328</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">JAMES THE FIRST AS A FATHER AND A HUSBAND</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page333">333</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">THE MAN OF ONE BOOK</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page337">337</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">A BIBLIOGNOSTE</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page340">340</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">SECRET HISTORY OF AN ELECTIVE MONARCHY</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page346">346</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">BUILDINGS IN THE METROPOLIS, AND RESIDENCE IN THE COUNTRY</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page363">363</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">ROYAL PROCLAMATIONS</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page371">371</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">TRUE SOURCES OF SECRET HISTORY</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page380">380</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">LITERARY RESIDENCES</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page394">394</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">WHETHER ALLOWABLE TO RUIN ONESELF?</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page400">400</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">DISCOVERIES OF SECLUDED MEN</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page408">408</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">SENTIMENTAL BIOGRAPHY</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page414">414</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">LITERARY PARALLELS</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page425">425</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">THE PEARL BIBLES, AND SIX THOUSAND ERRATA</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page427">427</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">VIEW OF A PARTICULAR PERIOD OF THE STATE OF RELIGION IN OUR CIVIL WARS</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page423">423</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">BUCKINGHAM’S POLITICAL COQUETRY WITH THE PURITANS</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page443">443</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">SIR EDWARD COKE’S EXCEPTIONS AGAINST THE HIGH SHERIFF’S OATH</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page446">446</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">SECRET HISTORY OF CHARLES THE FIRST AND HIS FIRST PARLIAMENTS</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page448">448</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">THE RUMP</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page482">482</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">LIFE AND HABITS OF A LITERARY ANTIQUARY—OLDYS AND HIS MANUSCRIPTS</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page493">493</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="scs tc3">INDEX</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page513">513</a></td> </tr> + +</table> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page1" id="page1"></a>1</span></p> +<p class="center pt3" style="font-size: 210%;">CURIOSITIES OF LITERATURE.</p> + +<hr class="art" /> +<h3>LOCAL DESCRIPTIONS.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Nothing</span> is more idle, and, what is less to be forgiven in a +writer, more tedious, than minute and lengthened descriptions +of localities; where it is very doubtful whether the +writers themselves had formed any tolerable notion of the +place they describe,—it is certain their readers never can! +These descriptive passages, in which writers of imagination +so frequently indulge, are usually a glittering confusion of +unconnected things; circumstances recollected from others, +or observed by themselves at different times; the finest are +thrust in together. If a scene from nature, it is possible that +all the seasons of the year may be jumbled together; or if a +castle or an apartment, its magnitude or its minuteness may +equally bewilder. Yet we find, even in works of celebrity, +whole pages of these general or these particular descriptive +sketches, which leave nothing behind but noun substantives +propped up by random epithets. The old writers were quite +delighted to fill up their voluminous pages with what was a +great saving of sense and thinking. In the <i>Alaric</i> of Scudery +sixteen pages, containing nearly five hundred verses, describe +a palace, commencing at the <i>façade</i>, and at length finishing +with the garden; but his description, we may say, was much +better described by Boileau, whose good taste felt the +absurdity of this “abondance stérile,” in overloading a work +with useless details,</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Un auteur, quelquefois, trop plein de son objet,</p> +<p>Jamais sans l’épuiser n’abandonne un sujet.</p> +<p>S’il rencontre un palais il m’en dépeint la face,</p> +<p>Il me promène après de terrasae en terrasse.</p> +<p>Ici s’offre un perron, là règne un corridor;</p> +<p>Là ce balcon s’enferme en un balustre d’or;</p> +<p>Il compte les plafonds, les ronds, et les ovales—</p> +<p>Je saute vingt feuillets pour en trouver la fin;</p> +<p>Et je me sauve à peine au travers du jardin!</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page2" id="page2"></a>2</span></p> + +<p>And then he adds so excellent a canon of criticism, that we +must not neglect it:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Tout ce qu’on dit de trop est fade et rébutant;</p> +<p>L’esprit rassasié le rejette à l’instant,</p> +<p>Qui ne sait se borner, ne sut jamais écrire.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>We have a memorable instance of the inefficiency of local +descriptions in a very remarkable one by a writer of fine +genius, composing with an extreme fondness of his subject, +and curiously anxious to send down to posterity the most +elaborate display of his own villa—this was the <i>Laurentinum</i> +of Pliny. We cannot read his letter to Gallus, which the +English reader may in Melmoth’s elegant version,<a name="FnAnchor_1" id="FnAnchor_1" href="#Footnote_1"><span class="sp">1</span></a> without +somewhat participating in the delight of the writer in +many of its details; but we cannot with the writer form the +slightest conception of his villa, while he is leading us over +from apartment to apartment, and pointing to us the opposite +wing, with a “beyond this,” and a “not far from +thence,” and “to this apartment another of the same sort,” +&c. Yet, still, as we were in great want of a correct knowledge +of a Roman villa, and as this must be the most so +possible, architects have frequently studied, and the learned +translated with extraordinary care, Pliny’s <i>Description of his +Laurentinum</i>. It became so favourite an object, that eminent +architects have attempted to raise up this edifice once +more, by giving its plan and elevation; and this extraordinary +fact is the result—that not one of them but has given a +representation different from the other! Montfaucon, a more +faithful antiquary, in his close translation of the description +of this villa, in comparing it with Felibien’s plan of the villa +itself, observes, “that the architect accommodated his edifice +to his translation, but that their notions are not the +same; unquestionably,” he adds, “if ten skilful translators +were to perform their task separately, there would not be one +who agreed with another!”</p> + +<p>If, then, on this subject of local descriptions, we find that it +is impossible to convey exact notions of a real existing scene, +what must we think of those which, in truth, describe scenes +which have no other existence than the confused makings-up +of an author’s invention; where the more he details the more +he confuses; and where the more particular he wishes to be, +the more indistinct the whole appears?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page3" id="page3"></a>3</span></p> + +<p>Local descriptions, after a few striking circumstances have +been selected, admit of no further detail. It is not their +length, but their happiness, which enters into our comprehension; +the imagination can only take in and keep together a +very few parts of a picture. The pen must not intrude on +the province of the pencil, any more than the pencil must +attempt to perform what cannot in any shape be submitted to +the eye, though fully to the mind.</p> + +<p>The great art, perhaps, of local description, is rather a +general than a particular view; the details must be left to +the imagination; it is suggestion rather than description. +There is an old Italian sonnet of this kind which I have often +read with delight; and though I may not communicate the +same pleasure to the reader, yet the story of the writer is +most interesting, and the lady (for such she was) has the +highest claim to be ranked, like the lady of Evelyn, among +<i>literary wives</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Francesca Turina Bufalini di Citta di Castello</i>, of noble +extraction, and devoted to literature, had a collection of her +poems published in 1628. She frequently interspersed little +domestic incidents of her female friend, her husband, her son, +her grandchildren; and in one of these sonnets she has delineated +<i>her palace of San Giustino</i>, whose localities she +appears to have enjoyed with intense delight in the company +of “her lord,” whom she tenderly associates with the scene. +There is a freshness and simplicity in the description, which will +perhaps convey a clearer notion of the spot than even Pliny +could do in the voluminous description of his <i>villa</i>. She tells +us what she found when brought to the house of her husband:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Ampie salle, ampie loggie, ampio cortile</p> + <p class="i1">E stanze ornate con gentil pitture,</p> + <p class="i1">Trovai giungendo, e nobili sculture</p> + <p class="i1">Di marmo fatte, da scalpel non vile.</p> +<p>Nobil giardin con un perpetuo Aprile</p> + <p class="i1">Di varij fior, di frutti, e di verdure,</p> + <p class="i1">Ombre soavi, acque a temprar l’arsure</p> + <p class="i1">E strade di beltà non dissimile;</p> +<p>E non men forte estel, che per fortezza</p> + <p class="i1">Ha il ponte, e i fianchi, e lo circonda intorno</p> + <p class="i1">Fosso profundo e di real larghezza.</p> +<p>Qui fei col mio Signore dolce soggiorno</p> + <p class="i1">Con santo amor, con somma contentezza</p> + <p class="i1">Onde ne benedico il mese e il giorno!</p> + +<p class="s">Wide halls, wide galleries, and an ample court,</p> +<p>Chambers adorn’d by pictures’ soothing charm,</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page4" id="page4"></a>4</span></p> +<p>I found together blended; noble sculpture</p> +<p>In marble, polish’d by no chisel vile;</p> +<p>A noble garden, where a lasting April</p> +<p>All-various flowers and fruits and verdure showers;</p> +<p>Soft shades, and waters tempering the hot air;</p> +<p>And undulating paths in equal beauty!</p> +<p>Nor less the castled glory stands in force,</p> +<p>And bridged and flanked. And round its circuit winds</p> +<p>The deepened moat, showing a regal size.</p> +<p>Here with my lord I cast my sweet sojourn,</p> +<p>With holy love, and with supreme content;</p> +<p>And hence I bless the month, and bless the day!</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_1" id="Footnote_1" href="#FnAnchor_1"><span class="fn">1</span></a> Book ii. lett. 17.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>MASQUES.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">It</span> sometimes happens, in the history of national amusements, +that a name survives while the thing itself is forgotten. This +has been remarkably the case with our court Masques, respecting +which our most eminent writers long ventured on so many +false opinions, with a perfect ignorance of the nature of these +compositions, which combined all that was exquisite in the +imitative arts of poetry, painting, music, song, dancing, and +machinery, at a period when our public theatre was in its +rude infancy. Convinced of the miserable state of our represented +drama, and not then possessing that more curious +knowledge of their domestic history which we delight to +explore, they were led into erroneous notions of one of the +most gorgeous, the most fascinating, and the most poetical +of dramatic amusements. Our present theatrical exhibitions +are, indeed, on a scale to which the twopenny audiences of +the barn playhouses of Shakspeare could never have strained +their sight; and our picturesque and learned <i>costume</i>, with +the brilliant changes of our scenery, would have maddened +the “property-men” and the “tire-women” of the Globe or +the Red Bull.<a name="FnAnchor_2" id="FnAnchor_2" href="#Footnote_2"><span class="sp">2</span></a> Shakspeare himself never beheld the true +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page5" id="page5"></a>5</span> +magical illusions of his own dramas, with “Enter the Red +Coat,” and “Exit Hat and Cloak,” helped out with “painted +cloths;” or, as a bard of Charles the Second’s time chants—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + + <p class="i8">Look back and see</p> +<p>The strange vicissitudes of poetrie;</p> +<p>Your aged fathers came to plays for wit,</p> +<p>And sat knee-deep in nut-shells in the pit.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>But while the public theatre continued long in this contracted +state, without scenes, without dresses, without an +orchestra, the court displayed scenical and dramatic exhibitions +with such costly magnificence, such inventive fancy, +and such miraculous art, that we may doubt if the combined +genius of Ben Jonson, Inigo Jones, and Lawes, or Ferobosco, +at an era most favourable to the arts of imagination, has been +equalled by the modern <i>spectacle</i> of the Opera.</p> + +<p>But this circumstance had entirely escaped the knowledge +of our critics. The critic of a Masque must not only have +read it, but he must also have heard and have viewed it. +The only witnesses in this case are those letter-writers of the +day, who were then accustomed to communicate such domestic +intelligence to their absent friends: from such ample correspondence +I have often drawn some curious and sometimes +important information. It is amusing to notice the opinions +of some great critics, how from an original mis-statement +they have drawn an illegitimate opinion, and how one inherits +from the other the error which he propagates. Warburton +said on Masques, that “Shakspeare was an enemy to these +<i>fooleries</i>, as appears by his writing none.” This opinion was +among the many which that singular critic threw out as they +arose at the moment; for Warburton forgot that Shakspeare +characteristically introduces one in the <i>Tempest’s</i> most fanciful +scene.<a name="FnAnchor_3" id="FnAnchor_3" href="#Footnote_3"><span class="sp">3</span></a> Granger, who had not much time to study the +manners of the age whose personages he was so well acquainted +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page6" id="page6"></a>6</span> +with, in a note on Milton’s Masque, said that “these compositions +were trifling and perplexed allegories, the persons of +which are fantastical to the last degree. Ben Jonson, in his +‘Masque of Christmas,’ has introduced ‘Minced Pie,’ and +‘Baby Cake,’ who act their parts in the drama.<a name="FnAnchor_4" id="FnAnchor_4" href="#Footnote_4"><span class="sp">4</span></a> But the +most <i>wretched performances</i> of this kind could please by the +help of music, machinery, and dancing.” Granger blunders, +describing by two farcical characters a species of composition +of which farce was not the characteristic. Such personages +as he notices would enter into the Anti-masque, which was +a humorous parody of the more solemn Masque, and sometimes +relieved it. Malone, whose fancy was not vivid, condemns +Masques and the age of Masques, in which, he says, +echoing Granger’s epithet, “the <i>wretched taste</i> of the times +found amusement.” And lastly comes Mr. Todd, whom the +splendid fragment of the “Arcades,” and the entire Masque, +which we have by heart, could not warm; while his neutralising +criticism fixes him at the freezing point of the +thermometer. “This dramatic entertainment, performed +not without prodigious expense in machinery and decoration, +to <i>which humour</i> we certainly owe the entertainment of +‘Arcades,’ and the inimitable Mask of ‘Comus.’” <i>Comus</i>, +however, is only a fine dramatic poem, retaining scarcely any +features of the Masque. The only modern critic who had +written with some research on this departed elegance of the +English drama was Warton, whose fancy responded to the +fascination of the fairy-like magnificence and lyrical spirit of +the Masque. Warton had the taste to give a specimen from +“The Inner Temple Mask by William Browne,” the pastoral +poet, whose Address to Sleep, he observed, “reminds +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page7" id="page7"></a>7</span> +us of some favourite touches in Milton’s <i>Comus</i>, to which it +perhaps gave birth.” Yet even Warton was deficient in +that sort of research which only can discover the true nature +of these singular dramas.</p> + +<p>Such was the state in which, some years ago, I found all +our knowledge of this once favourite amusement of our court, +our nobility, and our learned bodies of the four inns of court. +Some extensive researches, pursued among contemporary +manuscripts, cast a new light over this obscure child of fancy +and magnificence. I could not think lightly of what Ben +Jonson has called “The Eloquence of Masques;” entertainments +on which from three to five thousand pounds were +expended, and on more public occasions ten and twenty thousand. +To the aid of the poetry, composed by the finest +poets, came the most skilful musicians and the most elaborate +machinists; Ben Jonson, and Inigo Jones,<a name="FnAnchor_5" id="FnAnchor_5" href="#Footnote_5"><span class="sp">5</span></a> and Lawes +blended into one piece their respective genius; and Lord +Bacon, and Whitelocke, and Selden, who sat in committees +for the last grand Masque presented to Charles the First, +invented the devices; composed the procession of the +Masquers and the Anti-Masquers; while one took the care +of the dancing or the brawlers, and Whitelocke the music—the +sage Whitelocke! who has chronicled his self-complacency +on this occasion, by claiming the invention of a +<i>Coranto</i>, which for thirty years afterwards was the delight +of the nation, and was blessed by the name of “Whitelocke’s +Coranto,” and which was always called for, two or three +times over, whenever that great statesman “came to see a +play!”<a name="FnAnchor_6" id="FnAnchor_6" href="#Footnote_6"><span class="sp">6</span></a> So much personal honour was considered to be +involved in the conduct of a Masque, that even this committee +of illustrious men was on the point of being broken +up by too serious a discussion concerning precedence; and +the Masque had nearly not taken place, till they hit on the +expedient of throwing dice to decide on their rank in the +procession! On this jealousy of honour in the composition +of a Masque, I discovered, what hitherto had escaped the +knowledge, although not the curiosity, of literary inquirers—the +occasion of the memorable enmity between Ben Jonson +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page8" id="page8"></a>8</span> +and Inigo Jones, who had hitherto acted together with +brotherly affection; “a circumstance,” says Gifford, to whom +I communicated it, “not a little important in the history of +our calumniated poet.” The trivial cause, but not so in its +consequences, was the poet prefixing his own name before +that of the architect on the title-page of a Masque, which +hitherto had only been annexed;<a name="FnAnchor_7" id="FnAnchor_7" href="#Footnote_7"><span class="sp">7</span></a> so jealous was the great +architect of his <i>part</i> of the Masque, and so predominant his +power and name at court, that he considered his rights +invaded by the <i>inferior</i> claims of the poet! Jonson has +poured out the whole bitterness of his soul in two short +satires: still more unfortunately for the subject of these +satires, they provoked Inigo to sharpen his pen on rhyme; +but it is edgeless, and the blunt composition still lies in its +manuscript state.</p> + +<p>While these researches had engaged my attention, appeared +Gifford’s Memoirs of Ben Jonson. The characteristics of +Masques are there, for the first time, elaborately opened with +the clear and penetrating spirit of that ablest of our dramatic +critics. I feel it like presumption to add to what has received +the finishing hand of a master; but his jewel is locked +up in a chest, which I fear is too rarely opened, and he will +allow me to borrow something from its splendour. “The +Masque, as it attained its highest degree of excellence, admitted +of dialogue, singing, and dancing; these were not independent +of one another, but combined, by the introduction +of some ingenious fable, into an harmonious whole. When +the plan was formed, the aid of the sister-arts was called in; +for the essence of the Masque was pomp and glory. Moveable +scenery of the most costly and splendid kind was +lavished on the Masque; the most celebrated masters were +employed on the songs and dances; and all that the kingdom +afforded of vocal and instrumental excellence was employed +to embellish the exhibition.<a name="FnAnchor_8" id="FnAnchor_8" href="#Footnote_8"><span class="sp">8</span></a> Thus magnificently constructed, +the Masque was not committed to ordinary performers. It +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page9" id="page9"></a>9</span> +was composed, as Lord Bacon says, for princes, and by +princes it was played.<a name="FnAnchor_9" id="FnAnchor_9" href="#Footnote_9"><span class="sp">9</span></a> Of these Masques, the skill with +which their ornaments were designed, and the inexpressible +grace with which they were executed, appear to have left a +vivid impression on the mind of Jonson. His genius awakes +at once, and all his faculties attune to sprightliness and pleasure. +He makes his appearance, like his own Delight, ‘accompanied +with Grace, Love, Harmony, Revel, Sport, and +Laughter.’</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>“In curious knot and mazes so</p> +<p class="i05">The Spring at first was taught to go;</p> +<p class="i05">And Zephyr, when he came to woo</p> +<p class="i05">His Flora, had his <i>motions</i><a name="FnAnchor_10" id="FnAnchor_10" href="#Footnote_10"><span class="sp">10</span></a> too;</p> +<p class="i05">And thus did Venus learn to lead</p> +<p class="i05">The Idalian brawls, and so to tread,</p> +<p class="i05">As if the wind, not she, did walk,</p> +<p class="i05">Nor press’d a flower, nor bow’d a stalk.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>“But in what,” says Gifford, “was the taste of the times +<i>wretched</i>? In poetry, painting, architecture, they have not +since been equalled; and it ill becomes us to arraign the +taste of a period which possessed a cluster of writers of whom +the meanest would now be esteemed a prodigy.” Malone did +not live to read this denouncement of his objection to these +Masques, as “bungling shows;” and which Warburton +treats as “fooleries;” Granger as “wretched performances;” +while Mr. Todd regards them merely as “the humour of the +times!”</p> + +<p>Masques were often the private theatricals of the families +of our nobility, performed by the ladies and gentlemen at +their seats; and were splendidly got up on certain occasions: +such as the celebration of a nuptial, or in compliment to some +great visitor. The Masque of Comus was composed by +Milton to celebrate the creation of Charles the First as +Prince of Wales; a scene in this Masque presented both the +castle and the town of Ludlow, which proves, that although +our small public theatres had not yet displayed any of the +scenical illusions which long afterwards Davenant introduced, +these scenical effects existed in great perfection in the +Masques. The minute descriptions introduced by Thomas +Campion, in his “Memorable Masque,” as it is called, will +convince us that the scenery must have been exquisite and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page10" id="page10"></a>10</span> +fanciful, and that the poet was always a watchful and anxious +partner with the machinist, with whom sometimes, however, +he had a quarrel.</p> + +<p>The subject of this very rare Masque was “The Night +and the Hours.” It would be tedious to describe the first +scene with the fondness with which the poet has dwelt on +it. It was a double valley; one side, with dark clouds +hanging before it; on the other, a green vale, with trees, and +nine golden ones of fifteen feet high; from which grove, towards +“the State,” or the seat of the king, was a broad descent +to the dancing-place: the bower of Flora was on the right, +the house of Night on the left; between them a hill, hanging +like a cliff over the grove. The bower of Flora was spacious, +garnished with flowers and flowery branches, with lights +among them; the house of Night ample and stately, with +black columns studded with golden stars; within, nothing +but clouds and twinkling stars; while about it were placed, +on wire, artificial bats and owls, continually moving. As +soon as the king entered the great hall, the hautboys, out of +the wood on the top of the hill, entertained the time, till +Flora and Zephyr were seen busily gathering flowers from the +bower, throwing them into baskets which two silvans held, +attired in changeable taffeta. The song is light as their +fingers, but the burden is charming:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Now hath Flora robb’d her bowers</p> +<p>To befriend this place with flowers;</p> + <p class="i1">Strow about! strow about!</p> +<p>Divers, divers flowers affect</p> +<p>For some private dear respect;</p> + <p class="i1">Strow about! strow about!</p> +<p>But he’s none of Flora’s friend</p> +<p>That will not the rose commend;</p> + <p class="i1">Strow about! strow about!</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>I cannot quit this Masque, of which, collectors know the +rarity, without preserving one of those Doric delicacies, of +which, perhaps, we have outlived the taste! It is a playful +dialogue between a Silvan and an Hour, while Night appears +in her house, with her long black hair spangled with gold, +amidst her Hours; their faces black, and each bearing a +lighted black torch.</p> + +<table class="play" width="90%" summary="Contents"> + +<tr><td class="sc">Silvan.</td> +<td><p>Tell me, gentle Hour of Night,</p> +<p>Wherein dost thou most delight?</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="sc">Hour.</td> +<td><p>Not in sleep! +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page11" id="page11"></a>11</span></p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="sc">Silvan.</td> +<td><p style="padding-left: 6em;">Wherein then?</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="sc">Hour.</td> +<td><p>In the frolic view of men!</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="sc">Silvan.</td> +<td><p>Lov’st thou music?</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="sc">Hour.</td> +<td><p style="padding-left: 8em;">Oh! ’tis sweet!</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="sc">Silvan.</td> +<td><p>What’s dancing?</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="sc">Hour.</td> +<td><p style="padding-left: 7em;">E’en the mirth of feet.</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="sc">Silvan.</td> +<td><p>Joy you in fairies and in elves?</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="sc">Hour.</td> +<td><p>We are of that sort ourselves!</p> +<p>But, Silvan! say, why do you love</p> +<p>Only to frequent the grove?</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="sc">Silvan.</td> +<td><p>Life is fullest of content</p> +<p>When delight is innocent.</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="sc">Hour.</td> +<td><p>Pleasure must vary, not be long!</p> +<p>Come then, let’s close, and end the song!</p></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>That the moveable scenery of these Masques formed as perfect +a scenical illusion as any that our own age, with all its +perfection of decoration, has attained to, will not be denied +by those who have read the few Masques which have been +printed. They usually contrived a double division of the +scene; one part was for some time concealed from the spectator, +which produced surprise and variety. Thus in the +Lord’s Masque, at the marriage of the Palatine, the scene +was divided into two parts, from the roof to the floor; the +lower part being first discovered, there appeared a wood in +perspective, the innermost part being of “releeve or whole +round,” the rest painted. On the left a cave, and on the +right a thicket, from which issued Orpheus. At the back +part of the scene, at the sudden fall of a curtain, the upper +part broke on the spectators, a heaven of clouds of all hues; +the stars suddenly vanished, the clouds dispersed; an element +of artificial fire played about the house of Prometheus—a +bright and transparent cloud, reaching from the heavens to +the earth, whence the eight masquers descending with the +music of a full song; and at the end of their descent the cloud +broke in twain, and one part of it, as with a wind, was blown +athwart the scene. While this cloud was vanishing, the +wood, being the under part of the scene, was insensibly +changing; a perspective view opened, with porticoes on each +side, and female statues of silver, accompanied with ornaments +of architecture, filling the end of the house of Prometheus, +and seemed all of goldsmiths’ work. The women of +Prometheus descended from their niches, till the anger of +Jupiter turned them again into statues. It is evident, too, +that the size of the proscenium, or stage, accorded with the +magnificence of the scene; for I find choruses described, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page12" id="page12"></a>12</span> +“and changeable conveyances of the song,” in manner of an +echo, performed by more than forty different voices and instruments +in various parts of the scene. The architectural +decorations were the pride of Inigo Jones; such could not be +trivial.</p> + +<p>“I suppose,” says the writer of this Masque, “few have +ever seen more neat artifice than Master Inigo Jones showed +in contriving their motion; who, as all the rest of the workmanship +which belonged to the whole invention, showed extraordinary +industry and skill, which if it be not as lively +expressed in writing as it appeared in view, rob not him of +his due, but lay the blame on my want of right apprehending +his instructions, for the <i>adoring</i> of his art.” Whether this +strong expression should be only <i>adorning</i> does not appear in +any errata; but the feeling of admiration was fervent among +the spectators of that day, who were at least as much +astonished as they were delighted. Ben Jonson’s prose +descriptions of scenes in his own exquisite Masques, as Gifford +observes, “are singularly bold and beautiful.” In a +letter which I discovered, the writer of which had been present +at one of these Masques, and which Gifford has preserved,<a name="FnAnchor_11" id="FnAnchor_11" href="#Footnote_11"><span class="sp">11</span></a> +the reader may see the great poet anxiously united +with Inigo Jones in working the machinery. Jonson, before +“a sacrifice could be performed, turned the globe of the earth, +standing behind the altar.” In this globe “the sea was +expressed heightened with silver waves, which stood, or +rather hung (for no axle was seen to support it), and <i>turning +softly</i>, discovered the first Masque,”<a name="FnAnchor_12" id="FnAnchor_12" href="#Footnote_12"><span class="sp">12</span></a> &c. This “turning +softly” producing a very magical effect, the great poet would +trust to no other hand but his own!</p> + +<p>It seems, however, that as no Masque-writer equalled +Jonson, so no machinist rivalled Inigo Jones. I have sometimes +caught a groan from some unfortunate poet, whose +beautiful fancies were spoilt by the bungling machinist. One +says, “The <i>order of this scene</i> was carefully and ingeniously +disposed, and as happily put in act (for the <i>motions</i>) by the +king’s master carpenter;” but he adds, “the <i>painters</i>, I +must needs say (not to belie them), lent small colour to any, +to attribute much of the spirit of these things to their +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page13" id="page13"></a>13</span> +pencil.” Campion, in one of his Masques, describing where +the trees were gently to sink, &c., by an engine placed under +the stage, and in sinking were to open, and the masquers appear +out at their tops, &c., adds this vindictive marginal +note: “Either by the <i>simplicity</i>, <i>negligence</i>, or <i>conspiracy</i> +of the <i>painter</i>, the passing away of the trees was +somewhat hazarded, though the same day they had been +shown with much admiration, and were left together to the +same night;” that is, they were worked right at the rehearsal, +and failed in the representation, which must have +perplexed the nine masquers on the tops of these nine trees. +But such accidents were only vexations crossing the fancies +of the poet: they did not essentially injure the magnificence, +the pomp, and the fairy world opened to the spectators. So +little was the character of these Masques known, that all our +critics seemed to have fallen into repeated blunders, and used +the Masques as Campion suspected his painters to have done, +“either by simplicity, negligence, or conspiracy.” Hurd, a +cold systematic critic, thought he might safely prefer the +Masque in the <i>Tempest</i>, as “putting to shame all the +Masques of Jonson, not only in its <i>construction</i>, but in the +<i>splendour</i> of its show;”—“which,” adds Gifford, “was +danced and sung by the ordinary performers to a couple of +fiddles, perhaps in the balcony of the stage.” Such is the +fate of criticism without knowledge! And now, to close our +Masques, let me apply the forcible style of Ben Jonson himself: +“The glory of all these solemnities had perished like a +blaze, and gone out in the beholder’s eyes; so short-lived are +the bodies of all things in comparison of their souls!”<a name="FnAnchor_13" id="FnAnchor_13" href="#Footnote_13"><span class="sp">13</span></a></p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_2" id="Footnote_2" href="#FnAnchor_2"><span class="fn">2</span></a> Sir Philip Sidney, in his “Defence of Poesy,” 1595, alludes to the +custom of writing the supposed locality of each scene over the stage, and +asks, “What child is there that coming to a play, and seeing <i>Thebes</i> +written in great letters on an old door, doth believe that it is Thebes.” +As late as the production of Davenant’s <i>Siege of Rhodes</i> (<i>circa</i> 1656), +this custom was continued, and is thus described in the printed edition of +the play:—“In the middle of the frieze was a compartment wherein was +written <i>Rhodes</i>.” In many instances the spectator was left to infer the +locality of the scene from the dialogue.—“Now,” says Sidney, “you shall +have three ladies walke to gather flowers, and then we must believe the +stage to be a garden. By and by we heare newes of shipwracke in the +same place; then we are to blame if we accept it not for a rock.” In +Middleton’s <i>Chaste Maid</i>, 1630, when the scene changes to a bed-room, +“a bed is thrust out upon the stage, Alwit’s wife in it;” which simple +process was effected by pushing it through the curtains that hung across +the entrance to the stage, which at that time projected into the pit.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_3" id="Footnote_3" href="#FnAnchor_3"><span class="fn">3</span></a> The play of <i>Pyramus and Thisbe</i>, performed by the clowns in Shakspeare’s +<i>Midsummer Night’s Dream</i>, is certainly constructed in burlesque +of characters in court Masques, which sometimes were as difficult to be +made comprehensible to an audience as “the clowns of Athens” found +<i>Wall</i> and <i>Moonshine</i> to be.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_4" id="Footnote_4" href="#FnAnchor_4"><span class="fn">4</span></a> It is due to a great poet like Ben Jonson, that, without troubling +the reader to turn to his works, we should give his own description of these +characters, to show that they were not the “perplexed allegories” +they are asserted to be by Granger; nor inappropriate to the <i>Masque +of Christmas</i>, for which they were designed. <span class="sc">Minced-Pie</span> was habited +“like a fine cook’s wife, drest neat, her man carrying a pie, dish, and +spoon.” <span class="sc">Baby-Cake</span> was “drest like a boy, in a fine long coat, biggin-bib, +muckender (or handkerchief), and a little dagger; his usher bearing a great +cake, with a bean and a pease;” the latter being indicative of those generally +inserted in a Christmas cake, which, when cut into slices and distributed, +indicated by the presence of the bean the person who should be +king; the slice with the pea doing the same for the queen. Neither of +these characters speak, but make part of the show to be described by +Father Christmas. Jonson’s inventive talent was never more conspicuous +than in the concoction of court Masques.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_5" id="Footnote_5" href="#FnAnchor_5"><span class="fn">5</span></a> The first employment of these two great men was upon <i>The Masque of +Blackness</i>, performed at Whitehall on Twelfth-Night, 1603; and which +cost nearly 10,000<i>l.</i>, of our present money.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_6" id="Footnote_6" href="#FnAnchor_6"><span class="fn">6</span></a> The music of Whitelocke’s <i>Coranto</i> is preserved in Hawkins’s “History +of Music.” Might it be restored for the ladies as a waltz?</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_7" id="Footnote_7" href="#FnAnchor_7"><span class="fn">7</span></a> This was <i>Chloridia</i>, a Masque performed by the queen and her ladies +at court, on Shrovetide, 1630; upon the title-page of which is printed +“the inventors—Ben Jonson, Inigo Jones.” Jonson was, by reason of the +influence of Inigo, deprived of employ at court ever after, supplanted by +other poets named by the architect, and among them Heywood, Shirley, +and Davenant.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_8" id="Footnote_8" href="#FnAnchor_8"><span class="fn">8</span></a> George Chapman’s <i>Memorable Maske</i>, performed at Whitehall, 1630, +by the gentlemen of the Middle Temple and Lincoln’s Inn, cost the latter +society nearly 2000<i>l.</i> for their share of the expenses.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_9" id="Footnote_9" href="#FnAnchor_9"><span class="fn">9</span></a> Ben Jonson records the names of the noble ladies and gentlemen who +enacted his inventions at court.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_10" id="Footnote_10" href="#FnAnchor_10"><span class="fn">10</span></a> The figures and actions of dancers in Masques were called motions.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_11" id="Footnote_11" href="#FnAnchor_11"><span class="fn">11</span></a> Memoirs of Jonson, p. 88.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_12" id="Footnote_12" href="#FnAnchor_12"><span class="fn">12</span></a> See Gifford’s Jonson, vol. vii. p. 78. This performance was in the +<i>Masque of Hymen</i>, enacted at court in 1605, on the occasion of the +marriage of the Earl of Essex to the daughter of the Earl of Suffolk.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_13" id="Footnote_13" href="#FnAnchor_13"><span class="fn">13</span></a> Splendour ultimately ruined these works; they ended in gaudy +dresses and expensive machinery, but poetry was not associated with them. +The youthful days of Louis XIV. raised them to a height of costly luxuriance +to sink them ever after in oblivion.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>OF DES MAIZEAUX, AND THE SECRET HISTORY OF<br /> +ANTHONY COLLINS’S MANUSCRIPTS.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Des Maizeaux</span> was an active literary man of his day, +whose connexions with Bayle, St. Evremond, Locke, and +Toland, and his name being set off by an F.R.S., have occasioned +the dictionary-biographers to place him prominently +among their “hommes illustres.” Of his private history +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page14" id="page14"></a>14</span> +nothing seems known. Having something important to +communicate respecting one of his friends, a far greater character, +with whose fate he stands connected, even Des Maizeaux +becomes an object of our inquiry.</p> + +<p>He was one of those French refugees whom political +madness or despair of intolerance had driven to our shores. +The proscription of Louis XIV., which supplied us with our +skilful workers in silk, also produced a race of the unemployed, +who proved not to be as exquisite in the handicraft +of book-making; such were <i>Motteux</i>, <i>La Coste</i>, <i>Ozell</i>, <i>Durand</i>, +and others. Our author had come over in that tender +state of youth, just in time to become half an Englishman: +and he was so ambidextrous in the languages of the two +great literary nations of Europe, that whenever he took up +his pen, it is evident by his manuscripts, which I have examined, +that it was mere accident which determined him to +write in French or in English. Composing without genius, +or even taste, without vivacity or force, the simplicity and +fluency of his style were sufficient for the purposes of a ready +dealer in all the <i>minutiæ literariæ</i>; literary anecdotes, +curious quotations, notices of obscure books, and all that +<i>supellex</i> which must enter into the history of literature, +without forming a history. These little things, which did so +well of themselves, without any connexion with anything +else, became trivial when they assumed the form of voluminous +minuteness; and Des Maizeaux at length imagined that +nothing but anecdotes were necessary to compose the lives of +men of genius! With this sort of talent he produced a +copious life of Bayle, in which he told everything he possibly +could; and nothing can be more tedious, and more +curious: for though it be a grievous fault to omit nothing, +and marks the writer to be deficient in the development of +character, and that sympathy which throws inspiration over +the vivifying page of biography, yet, to admit everything, +has this merit—that we are sure to find what we want! +Warburton poignantly describes our Des Maizeaux, in one of +those letters to Dr. Birch which he wrote in the fervid age +of study, and with the impatient vivacity of his genius, +“Almost all the life-writers we have had before Toland and +Des Maizeaux are indeed strange, insipid creatures; and yet +I had rather read the worst of them, than be obliged to go +through with this of Milton’s, or the other’s life of Boileau; +where there is such a dull, heavy succession of long quotations +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page15" id="page15"></a>15</span> +of uninteresting passages, that it makes their method +quite nauseous. But the verbose, tasteless Frenchman seems +to lay it down as a principle, that every life must be a book,—and, +what is worse, it seems a book without a life; for +what do we know of Boileau after all his tedious stuff?”</p> + +<p>Des Maizeaux was much in the employ of the Dutch +booksellers, then the great monopolisers in the literary mart +of Europe. He supplied their “nouvelles littéraires” from +England; but the work-sheet price was very mean in those +days. I have seen annual accounts of Des Maizeaux settled +to a line for four or five pounds; and yet he sent the “Novelties” +as fresh as the post could carry them! He held a +confidential correspondence with these great Dutch booksellers, +who consulted him in their distresses; and he seems +rather to have relieved them than himself. But if he got +only a few florins at Rotterdam, the same “nouvelles littéraires” +sometimes secured him valuable friends at London; +for in those days, which perhaps are returning on us, an +English author would often appeal to a foreign journal for +the commendation he might fail in obtaining at home; and I +have discovered, in more cases than one, that, like other +smuggled commodities, the foreign article was often of home +manufactory!</p> + +<p>I give one of these curious bibliopolical distresses. +Sauzet, a bookseller at Rotterdam, who judged too critically +for the repose of his authors, seems to have been always fond +of projecting a new “Journal;” tormented by the ideal excellence +which he had conceived of such a work, it vexed him +that he could never find the workmen! Once disappointed of +the assistance he expected from a writer of talents, he was +fain to put up with one he was ashamed of; but warily stipulated +on very singular terms. He confided this precious +literary secret to Des Maizeaux. I translate from his manuscript +letter.</p> + +<p>“I send you, my dear Sir, four sheets of the continuation +of my journal, and I hope this second part will turn out +better than the former. The author thinks himself a very +able person; but I must tell you frankly, that he is a man +without erudition, and without any critical discrimination; +he writes pretty well, and turns passably what he says; but +that is all! Monsieur Van Effen having failed in his promises +to realise my hopes on this occasion, necessity compelled +me to have recourse to him; but for <i>six months only</i>, and on +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page16" id="page16"></a>16</span> +condition that he should not, on any account whatever, <i>allow +any one to know that he is the author of the journal</i>; for his +<i>name</i> alone would be sufficient to make even a passable book +discreditable. As you are among my friends, I will confide +to you in secrecy the name of this author; it is Mons. <i>De +Limiers</i>.<a name="FnAnchor_14" id="FnAnchor_14" href="#Footnote_14"><span class="sp">14</span></a> You see how much my interest is concerned that +the author should not be known!” This anecdote is gratuitously +presented to the editors of certain reviews, as a serviceable +hint to enter into the same engagement with some +of their own writers: for it is usually the <i>De Limiers</i> who +expend their last puff in blowing their own name about the +town.</p> + +<p>In England, Des Maizeaux, as a literary man, made himself +very useful to other men of letters, and particularly to persons +of rank: and he found patronage and a pension,—like his +talents, very moderate! A friend to literary men, he lived +amongst them, from “Orator” Henley, up to Addison, Lord +Halifax, and Anthony Collins. I find a curious character of +our Des Maizeaux in the handwriting of Edward, Earl of +Oxford, to whose father (Pope’s Earl of Oxford) and himself +the nation owes the Harleian treasures. His lordship is a +critic with high Tory principles, and high-church notions. +“This Des Maizeaux is a great man with those who are +pleased to be called <i>Freethinkers</i>, particularly with Mr. +Anthony Collins, collects passages out of books for their +writings. His Life of Chillingworth is wrote to please that +set of men.” The secret history I am to unfold relates to +Anthony Collins and Des Maizeaux. Some curious book-lovers +will be interested in the personal history of an author +they are well acquainted with, yet which has hitherto +remained unknown. He tells his own story in a sort of +epistolary petition he addressed to a noble friend, characteristic +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page17" id="page17"></a>17</span> +of an author, who cannot be deemed unpatronised, +yet whose name, after all his painful labours, might be +inserted in my “Calamities of Authors.”</p> + +<p>In this letter he announces his intention of publishing a +Dictionary like Bayle; having written the life of Bayle, the +next step was to become himself a Bayle; so short is the +passage of literary delusion! He had published, as a +specimen, the lives of Hales and Chillingworth. He +complains that his circumstances have not allowed him to +forward that work, nor digest the materials he had collected.</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>A work of that nature requires a steady application, free from the +cares and avocations incident to all persons obliged to seek for their maintenance. +I have had the misfortune to be in the case of those persons, and +am now reduced to a pension on the Irish establishment, which, deducting +the tax of four shillings in the pound, and other charges, brings me in +about 40<i>l.</i> a year of our English money.<a name="FnAnchor_15" id="FnAnchor_15" href="#Footnote_15"><span class="sp">15</span></a> This pension was granted to me +in 1710, and I owe it chiefly to the friendship of Mr. Addison, who was +then secretary to the Earl of Wharton, Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. In +1711, 12, and 14, I was appointed one of the Commissioners of the Lottery +by the interest of Lord Halifax.</p> + +<p>And this is all I ever received from the Government, though I had +some claim to the royal favour; for in 1710, when the enemies to our constitution +were contriving its ruin, I wrote a pamphlet entitled “Lethe,” +which was published in Holland, and afterwards translated into English, +and twice printed in London; and being reprinted in Dublin, proved so +offensive to the ministry in Ireland, that it was burnt by the hands of the +hangman. But so it is, that after having showed on all occasions my zeal +for the royal family, and endeavoured to make myself serviceable to the +public by several books published; after forty years’ stay in England, and +in an advanced age, I find myself and family destitute of a sufficient livelihood, +and suffering from complaints in the head and impaired sight by +constant application to my studies.</p> + +<p>I am confident, my lord, he adds, that if the queen, to whom I was +made known on occasion of Thuanus’s French translation, were acquainted +with my present distress, she would be pleased to afford me +some relief.<a name="FnAnchor_16" id="FnAnchor_16" href="#Footnote_16"><span class="sp">16</span></a></p> +</div> + +<p>Among the confidential literary friends of Des Maizeaux, +he had the honour of ranking Anthony Collins, a great lover +of literature, and a man of fine genius, and who, in a +continued correspondence with our Des Maizeaux, treated +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page18" id="page18"></a>18</span> +him as his friend, and employed him as his agent in his +literary concerns. These, in the formation of an extensive +library, were in a state of perpetual activity, and Collins was +such a true lover of his books, that he drew up the catalogue +with his own pen.<a name="FnAnchor_17" id="FnAnchor_17" href="#Footnote_17"><span class="sp">17</span></a> Anthony Collins wrote several well-known +works without prefixing his name; but having pushed +too far his curious inquiries on some obscure and polemical +points, he incurred the odium of a <i>freethinker</i>,—a term +which then began to be in vogue, and which the French +adopted by translating it, in their way, <i>a strong thinker</i>, or +<i>esprit fort</i>. Whatever tendency to “liberalise” the mind +from <i>dogmas</i> and <i>creeds</i> prevails in these works, the talents +and learning of Collins were of the first class. His morals +were immaculate, and his personal character independent; +but the <i>odium theologicum</i> of those days contrived every +means to stab in the dark, till the taste became hereditary +with some. I shall mention a fact of this cruel bigotry, +which occurred within my own observation, on one of the +most polished men of the age. The late Mr. Cumberland, in +the romance entitled his “Life,” gave this extraordinary fact, +that Dr. Bentley, who so ably replied by his “Remarks,” +under the name of Phileleutherus Lipsiensis, to Collins’s +“Discourse on Free-thinking,” when, many years after, he +discovered him fallen into great distress, conceiving that by +having ruined Collins’s character as a writer for ever, he had +been the occasion of his personal misery, he liberally +contributed to his maintenance. In vain I mentioned to that +elegant writer, who was not curious about facts, that this +person could never have been <i>Anthony</i> Collins, who had +always a plentiful fortune; and when it was suggested to him +that this “A. Collins,” as he printed it, must have been +<i>Arthur</i> Collins, the historical compiler, who was often in +pecuniary difficulties, still he persisted in sending the lie +down to posterity, <i>totidem verbis</i>, without alteration in his +second edition, observing to a friend of mine, that “the story, +while it told well, might serve as a striking instance of his +great relative’s generosity; and that <i>it should stand</i>, because +it could do no harm to any but to <i>Anthony</i> Collins, whom he +considered as little short of an atheist.” So much for this +pious fraud! but be it recollected that this Anthony Collins +was the confidential friend of Locke, of whom Locke said, on +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page19" id="page19"></a>19</span> +his dying bed, that “Collins was a man whom he valued in +the first rank of those that he left behind him.” And the +last words of Collins on his own death-bed were, that “he +was persuaded he was going to that place which God had +designed for them that love him.” The cause of true religion +will never be assisted by using such leaky vessels as +<i>Cumberland’s</i> wilful calumnies, which in the end must run +out, and be found, like the present, mere empty fictions!</p> + +<p>An extraordinary circumstance occurred on the death of +Anthony Collins. He left behind him a considerable number +of his own manuscripts, there was one collection formed into +eight octavo volumes; and that they might be secured from +the common fate of manuscripts, he bequeathed them all, and +confided them to the care of our Des Maizeaux. The choice +of Collins reflects honour on the character of Des Maizeaux, +yet he proved unworthy of it! He suffered himself to betray +his trust, practised on by the earnest desire of the widow, +and perhaps by the arts of a Mr. Tomlinson, who appears to +have been introduced into the family by the recommendation +of Dean Sykes, whom at length he supplanted, and whom the +widow, to save her reputation, was afterwards obliged to +discard.<a name="FnAnchor_18" id="FnAnchor_18" href="#Footnote_18"><span class="sp">18</span></a> In an unguarded moment he relinquished this +precious <i>legacy of the manuscripts</i>, and accepted <i>fifty guineas +as a present</i>. But if Des Maizeaux lost his honour in this +transaction, he was at heart an honest man, who had swerved +for a single moment; his conscience was soon awakened, and +he experienced the most violent compunctions. It was in a +paroxysm of this nature that he addressed the following +letter to a mutual friend of the late Anthony Collins and +himself.</p> + +<div class="quote"> + +<p class="rt"><i>January 6, 1730.</i></p> + +<p class="sc">Sir,</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 4em;">I am very glad to hear you are come to town, and as you are +my best friend, now I have lost Mr. Collins, give me leave to open my +heart to you, and to beg your assistance in an affair which highly concerns +both Mr. Collins’s (your friend) and my own honour and reputation. The +case, in few words, stands thus:—Mr. Collins by his last will and testament +left me his manuscripts. Mr. Tomlinson, who first acquainted me +with it, told me that Mrs. Collins should be glad to have them, and I made +them over to her; whereupon she was pleased to present me with fifty +guineas. I desired her at the same time to take care they should be kept +safe and unhurt, which she promised to do. This was done the 25th of +last month. Mr. Tomlinson, who managed all this affair, was present.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page20" id="page20"></a>20</span></p> + +<p>Now, having further considered that matter, I find that I have done +a most wicked thing. I am persuaded that I have betrayed the trust of +a person who, for twenty-six years, had given me continual instances of +his friendship and confidence. I am convinced that I have acted contrary +to the will and intention of my dear deceased friend; showed a disregard +to the particular mark of esteem he gave me on that occasion; in short, +that I have forfeited what is dearer to me than my own life—honour and +reputation.</p> + +<p>These melancholy thoughts have made so great an impression upon +me, that I protest to you I can enjoy no rest; they haunt me everywhere, +day and night. I earnestly beseech you, sir, to represent my unhappy +case to Mrs. Collins. I acted with all the simplicity and uprightness +of my heart; I considered that the MSS. would be as safe in Mrs. +Collins’s hands as in mine; that she was no less obliged to preserve them +than myself; and that, as the library was left to her, they might naturally +go along with it. Besides, I thought I could not too much comply with +the desire of a lady to whom I have so many obligations. But I see now +clearly that this is not fulfilling Mr. Collins’s will, and that the duties of +our conscience are superior to all other regards. But it is in her power +to forgive and mend what I have done imprudently, but with a good intention. +Her high sense of virtue and generosity will not, I am sure, let +her take any advantage of my weakness; and the tender regard she has +for the memory of the best of men, and the tenderest of husbands, will +not suffer that his intentions should be frustrated, and that she should +be the instrument of violating what is most sacred. If our late friend had +designed that his MSS. should remain in her hands, he would certainly +have left them to her by his last will and testament; his acting otherwise +is an evident proof that it was not his intention.</p> + +<p>All this I proposed to represent to her in the most respectful manner; +but you will do it infinitely better than I can in this present distraction of +mind; and I flatter myself that the mutual esteem and friendship which +has continued so many years between Mr. Collins and you, will make you +readily embrace whatever tends to honour his memory.</p> + +<p>I send you the fifty guineas I received, which I do now look upon as the +wages of iniquity; and I desire you to return them to Mrs. Collins, who, +as I hope it of her justice, equity, and regard to Mr. Collins’s intentions, +will be pleased to cancel my paper.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right; padding-right: 7em;">I am, &c.,</p> + +<p class="rt sc">P. Des Maizeaux.</p> +</div> + +<p>The manuscripts were never returned to Des Maizeaux; for +seven years afterwards Mrs. Collins, who appears to have +been a very spirited lady, addressed to him the following +letter on the subject of a report, that she had permitted +transcripts of these very manuscripts to get abroad. This +occasioned an animated correspondence from both sides.</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p class="rt"><i>March 10, 1736-37</i>.</p> + +<p class="sc">Sir,</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 4em;">I have thus long waited in expectation that you would ere this have +called on Dean Sykes, as Sir B. Lucy said you intended, that I might have +had some satisfaction in relation to a very unjust reproach—viz., that I, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page21" id="page21"></a>21</span> +or somebody that I had trusted, had <i>betrayed</i> some of the transcripts, or +MSS., of Mr. Collins into the Bishop of London’s hands. I cannot, therefore, +since you have not been with the dean as was desired, but call on you +in this manner, to know what authority you had for such a reflection; or +on what grounds you went for saying that these transcripts are in the +Bishop of London’s hands. I am determined to trace out the grounds of +such a report; and you can be no friend of mine, no friend of Mr. Collins, +no friend to common justice, if you refuse to acquaint me, what foundation +you had for such a charge. I desire a very speedy answer to this, who am, +Sir,</p> + +<p style="text-align: right; padding-right: 7em;">Your servant,</p> +<p class="rt sc">Eliz. Collins.</p> + +<p><i>To Mr. Des Maizeaux, at his lodgings next door to the +Quakers’ burying-ground, Hanover-street, out of Long-Acre.</i></p> + + +<div class="pt05"> </div> +<p class="center">TO MRS. COLLINS.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>March 14, 1737.</i></p> + +<p style="text-indent: 4em;">I had the honour of your letter of the 10th inst., and as I find that +something has been misapprehended, I beg leave to set this matter right.</p> + +<p>Being lately with some honourable persons, I told them it had been reported +that some of Mr. C.’s MSS. were fallen into the hands of strangers, +and that I should be glad to receive from you such information as might +enable me to disprove that report. What occasioned this surmise, or +what particular MSS. were meant, I was not able to discover; so I was +left to my own conjectures, which, upon a serious consideration, induced +me to believe that it might relate to the MSS. in eight volumes in 8vo, of +which there is a transcript. But as the original and the transcript are in +your possession, if you please, madam, to compare them together, you may +easily see whether they be both entire and perfect, or whether there be +anything wanting in either of them. By this means you will assure yourself, +and satisfy your friends, that several important pieces are safe in your +hands, and that the report is false and groundless. All this I take the +liberty to offer out of the singular respect I always professed for you, +and for the memory of Mr. Collins, to whom I have endeavoured to do +justice on all occasions, and particularly in the memoirs that have been +made use of in the General Dictionary; and I hope my tender concern for +his reputation will further appear when I publish his life.</p> + +<div class="pt05"> </div> +<p class="rt"><i>April 6, 1737</i>.</p> +<p class="sc">Sir,</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 4em;">My ill state of health has hindered me from acknowledging sooner +the receipt of yours, from which I hoped for some satisfaction in relation +to your charge, in which I cannot but think myself very deeply concerned. +You tell me now, that you was left to your own conjectures what particular +MSS. were reported to have fallen into the hands of strangers, and that +upon a serious consideration you was induced to believe that it might relate +to the MSS. in eight vols. 8vo, of which there was a transcript.</p> + +<p>I must beg of you to satisfy me very explicitly who were the persons that +reported this to you, and from whom did you receive this information? +You know that Mr. Collins left several MSS. behind him; what grounds +had you for your conjecture that it related to the MSS. in eight vols., +rather than to any other MSS. of which there was a transcript? I beg +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page22" id="page22"></a>22</span> +that you will be very plain, and tell me what strangers were named to +you; and why you said the Bishop of London, if your informer said +stranger to you. I am so much concerned in this, that I must repeat it, +if you have the singular respect for Mr. Collins which you profess, that +you would help me to trace out this reproach, which is so abusive to, Sir,</p> + +<p style="text-align: right; padding-right: 7em;">Your servant,</p> + +<p class="rt sc">Eliz. Collins.</p> + + +<div class="pt05"> </div> +<p class="center">TO MRS. COLLINS.</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 4em;">I flattered myself that my last letter would have satisfied you, but +I have the mortification to see that my hopes were vain. Therefore I beg +leave once more to set this matter right. When I told you what had been +reported, I acted, as I thought, the part of a true friend, by acquainting +you that some of your MSS. had been purloined, in order that you might +examine a fact which to me appeared of the last consequence; and I verily +believe that everybody in my case would have expected thanks for such a +friendly information. But instead of that I find myself represented as an +enemy, and challenged to produce proofs and witnesses of a thing dropt in +conversation, a hearsay, as if in those cases people kept a register of what +they hear, and entered the names of the persons who spoke, the time, +place, &c., and had with them persons ready to witness the whole, &c. I +did own I never thought of such a thing, and whenever I happened to hear +that some of my friends had some loss, I thought it my duty to acquaint +them with such report, that they might inquire into the matter, and see +whether there was any ground for it. But I never troubled myself with +the names of the persons who spoke, as being a thing entirely needless and +unprofitable.</p> + +<p>Give me leave further to observe, that you are in no ways <i>concerned</i> in +the matter, as you seem to be apprehensive you are. Suppose some MSS. +have been taken out of your library, who will say you ought to bear the +guilt of it? What man in his senses, who has the honour to know you, +will say you gave your consent to such thing—that you was privy to it? +How can you then take upon yourself an action to which you was neither +privy and consenting? Do not such things happen every day, and do the +losers think themselves injured or <i>abused</i> when they are talked of? Is it +impossible to be betrayed by a person we confided in?</p> + +<p>You call what I told you was a report, a surmise; you call it, I say, an +<i>information</i>, and speak of <i>informers</i> as if there was a plot laid wherein +I received the information: I thought I had the honour to be better known +to you. Mr. Collins loved me and esteemed me for my integrity and +sincerity, of which he had several proofs; how I have been drawn in +to injure him, to forfeit the good opinion he had of me, and which, were +he now alive, would deservedly expose me to his utmost contempt, is a +grief which I shall carry to the grave. It would be a sort of comfort to +me, if those who have consented I should be drawn in were in some measure +sensible of the guilt towards so good, kind, and generous a man.</p> +</div> + +<p>Thus we find that, <i>seven years</i> after Des Maizeaux had +inconsiderately betrayed his sacred trust, his remorse was +still awake; and the sincerity of his grief is attested by the +affecting style which describes it: the spirit of his departed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page23" id="page23"></a>23</span> +friend seemed to be hovering about him, and, in his imagination, +would haunt him to the grave.</p> + +<p>The nature of these manuscripts; the cause of the earnest +desire of retaining them by the widow; the evident unfriendliness +of her conduct to Des Maizeaux; and whether these +manuscripts, consisting of eight octavo volumes with their +transcripts, were destroyed, or are still existing, are all circumstances +which my researches have hitherto not ascertained.</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_14" id="Footnote_14" href="#FnAnchor_14"><span class="fn">14</span></a> <i>Van Effen</i> was a Dutch writer of some merit, and one of a literary +knot of ingenious men, consisting of Sallengre, St. Hyacinthe, Prosper +Marchand, &c., who carried on a smart review for those days, published +at the Hague under the title of “Journal Littéraire.” They all composed +in French; and Van Effen gave the first translations of our “Guardian,” +“Robinson Crusoe,” and the “Tale of a Tub,” &c. He did something +more, but not better; he attempted to imitate the “Spectator,” in +his “Le Misanthrope,” 1726, which exhibits a picture of the uninteresting +manners of a nation whom he could not make very lively.</p> + +<p><i>De Limiers</i> has had his name slipped into our biographical dictionaries. +An author cannot escape the fatality of the alphabet; his numerous misdeeds +are registered. It is said, that if he had not been so hungry, he +would have given proofs of possessing some talent.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_15" id="Footnote_15" href="#FnAnchor_15"><span class="fn">15</span></a> I find that the nominal pension was 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> per diem on the Irish +civil list, which amounts to above 63<i>l.</i> per annum. If a pension be +granted for reward, it seems a mockery that the income should be so +grievously reduced, which cruel custom still prevails.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_16" id="Footnote_16" href="#FnAnchor_16"><span class="fn">16</span></a> This letter, or petition, was written in 1732. In 1743 he procured +his pension to be placed on his wife’s life, and he died in 1745.</p> + +<p>He was sworn in as gentleman of his majesty’s privy chamber in 1722—<i>Sloane +MSS.</i> 4289.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_17" id="Footnote_17" href="#FnAnchor_17"><span class="fn">17</span></a> There is a printed catalogue of his library.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_18" id="Footnote_18" href="#FnAnchor_18"><span class="fn">18</span></a> This information is from a note found among Des Maizeaux’s papers; +but its truth I have no means to ascertain.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>HISTORY OF NEW WORDS.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Neology</span>, or the novelty of words and phrases, is an innovation, +which, with the opulence of our present language, +the English philologer is most jealous to allow; but we have +puritans or precisians of English, superstitiously nice! The +fantastic coinage of affectation or caprice will cease to circulate +from its own alloy; but shall we reject the ore of fine +workmanship and solid weight? There is no government +mint of words, and it is no statutable offence to invent a +felicitous or daring expression unauthorised by Mr. Todd! +When a man of genius, in the heat of his pursuits or his +feelings, has thrown out a peculiar word, it probably conveyed +more precision or energy than any other established word, +otherwise he is but an ignorant pretender!</p> + +<p>Julius Cæsar, who, unlike other great captains, is authority +on words as well as about blows, wrote a large treatise on +“Analogy,” in which that fine genius counselled to “avoid +every unusual word as a rock!”<a name="FnAnchor_19" id="FnAnchor_19" href="#Footnote_19"><span class="sp">19</span></a> The cautious Quintilian, +as might be expected, opposes all innovation in language. +“If the new word is well received, small is the glory; if +rejected, it raises laughter.”<a name="FnAnchor_20" id="FnAnchor_20" href="#Footnote_20"><span class="sp">20</span></a> This only marks the penury +of his feelings in this species of adventure. The great legislator +of words, who lived when his own language was at its +acmé, seems undecided, yet pleaded for this liberty. “Shall +that which the Romans allowed to Cæcilius and to Plautus +be refused to Virgil and Varius?” The answer to the question +might not be favourable to the inquirer. While a language +is forming, writers are applauded for extending its +limits; when established, for restricting themselves to them. +But this is to imagine that a perfect language can exist! +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page24" id="page24"></a>24</span> +The good sense and observation of Horace perceived that +there may be occasions where necessity must become the +mother of invented words:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr f90"> + + <p class="i5">————Si forte necesse est</p> +<p>Indiciis monstrare recentibus abdita rerum.</p> + +<p class="s">If you write of things abstruse or new,</p> +<p>Some of your own inventing may be used,</p> +<p>So it be seldom and discreetly done.</p> + +<p class="i12 sc">Roscommon.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">But Horace’s canon for deciding on the legality of the new +invention, or the standard by which it is to be tried, will not +serve to assist the inventor of words:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr f90"> + + <p class="i5">————licuit, semperque licebit,</p> +<p>Signatum præsente nota procudere nummum.<a name="FnAnchor_21" id="FnAnchor_21" href="#Footnote_21"><span class="sp">21</span></a></p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>This <i>præsens nota</i>, or public stamp, can never be affixed to +any new coinage of words: for many received at a season +have perished with it.<a name="FnAnchor_22" id="FnAnchor_22" href="#Footnote_22"><span class="sp">22</span></a> The privilege of stamping words is +reserved for their greatest enemy—Time itself! and the +inventor of a new word must never flatter himself that he +has secured the public adoption, for he must lie in his grave +before he can enter the dictionary.</p> + +<p>In Willes’ address to the reader, prefixed to the collection +of Voyages published in 1577, he finds fault with Eden’s +translation from Peter Martyr, for using words that “smelt +too much of the Latine.” We should scarcely have expected +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page25" id="page25"></a>25</span> +to find among them <i>ponderouse</i>, <i>portentouse</i>, <i>despicable</i>, <i>obsequious</i>, +<i>homicide</i>, <i>imbibed</i>, <i>destructive</i>, <i>prodigious</i>. The only +words he quotes, not thoroughly naturalised, are <i>dominators</i>, +<i>ditionaries,</i> (subjects), <i>solicitute</i> (careful).</p> + +<p>The Tatler, No. 230, introduces several polysyllables introduced +by military narrations, “which (he says), if they +attack us too frequently, we shall certainly put them to +flight, and cut off the rear;” every one of them still keep +their ground.</p> + +<p>Half the French words used affectedly by Melantha, in +Dryden’s <i>Marriage à-la-Mode</i>, as innovations in our language, +are now in common use, <i>naïveté</i>, <i>foible</i>, <i>chagrin</i>, <i>grimace</i>, +<i>embarras</i>, <i>double entendre</i>, <i>equivoque</i>, <i>eclaircissement</i>, <i>ridicule</i>, +all these words, which she learns by heart to use occasionally, +are now in common use. A Dr. Russel called Psalm-singers +<i>Ballad-singers</i>, having found the Song of Solomon in an old +translation, the <i>Ballad of Ballads</i>, for which he is reproached +by his antagonist for not knowing that the signification of +words alters with time; should I call him <i>knave</i>, he ought +not to be concerned at it, for the Apostle Paul is also called +a <i>knave of Jesus Christ</i>.<a name="FnAnchor_23" id="FnAnchor_23" href="#Footnote_23"><span class="sp">23</span></a></p> + +<p>Unquestionably, <span class="sc">neology</span> opens a wide door to innovation; +scarcely has a century passed since our language was patched +up with Gallic idioms, as in the preceding century it was +piebald with Spanish, and with Italian, and even with Dutch. +The political intercourse of islanders with their neighbours +has ever influenced their language. In Elizabeth’s reign +Italian phrases<a name="FnAnchor_24" id="FnAnchor_24" href="#Footnote_24"><span class="sp">24</span></a> and Netherland words were imported; in +James and Charles the Spanish framed the style of courtesy; +in Charles the Second the nation and the language were +equally Frenchified. Yet such are the sources from whence +we have often derived some of the wealth of our language!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page26" id="page26"></a>26</span></p> + +<p>There are three foul corruptors of a language: caprice, +affectation, and ignorance! Such fashionable cant terms as +“theatricals,” and “musicals,” invented by the flippant +Topham, still survive among his confraternity of frivolity. +A lady eminent for the elegance of her taste, and of whom +one of the best judges, the celebrated Miss Edgeworth, +observed to me, that she spoke the purest and most idiomatic +English she had ever heard, threw out an observation which +might be extended to a great deal of our present fashionable +vocabulary. She is now old enough, she said, to have lived +to hear the vulgarisms of her youth adopted in drawing-room +circles.<a name="FnAnchor_25" id="FnAnchor_25" href="#Footnote_25"><span class="sp">25</span></a> To <i>lunch</i>, now so familiar from the fairest lips, in +her youth was only known in the servants’ hall. An expression +very rife of late among our young ladies, <i>a nice man</i>, +whatever it may mean, whether that the man resemble a pudding +or something more nice, conveys the offensive notion +that they are ready to eat him up! When I was a boy, it +was an age of <i>bon ton</i>; this <i>good tone</i> mysteriously conveyed +a sublime idea of fashion; the term, imported late in the +eighteenth century, closed with it. <i>Twaddle</i> for a while succeeded +<i>bore</i>; but <i>bore</i> has recovered the supremacy. We +want another Swift to give a new edition of his “Polite +Conversation.” A dictionary of barbarisms too might be +collected from some wretched neologists, whose pens are now +at work! Lord Chesterfield, in his exhortations to conform +to Johnson’s Dictionary, was desirous, however, that the great +lexicographer should add as an appendix, “<i>A neological dictionary</i>, +containing those polite, though perhaps not strictly +grammatical, words and phrases commonly used, and sometimes +understood by the <i>beau-monde</i>.”<a name="FnAnchor_26" id="FnAnchor_26" href="#Footnote_26"><span class="sp">26</span></a> This last phrase was +doubtless a contribution! Such a dictionary had already +appeared in the French language, drawn up by two caustic +critics, who in the <i>Dictionnaire néologique à l’usage des beaux +Esprits du Siècle</i> collected together the numerous unlucky +inventions of affectation, with their modern authorities! A +collection of the fine words and phrases, culled from some +very modern poetry, might show the real amount of the +favours bestowed on us.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page27" id="page27"></a>27</span></p> + +<p>The attempts of neologists are, however, not necessarily to +be condemned; and we may join with the commentators of +Aulus Gellius, who have lamented the loss of a chapter of +which the title only has descended to us. That chapter +would have demonstrated what happens to all languages, that +some neologisms, which at first are considered forced or inelegant, +become sanctioned by use, and in time are quoted as +authority in the very language which, in their early stage, +they were imagined to have debased.</p> + +<p>The true history of men’s minds is found in their actions; +their wants are indicated by their contrivances; and certain +it is that in highly cultivated ages we discover the most +refined intellects attempting NEOLOGISMS.<a name="FnAnchor_27" id="FnAnchor_27" href="#Footnote_27"><span class="sp">27</span></a> It would be a +subject of great curiosity to trace the origin of many happy +expressions, when, and by whom created. Plato substituted +the term <i>Providence</i> for <i>fate</i>; and a new system of human +affairs arose from a single word. Cicero invented several; to +this philosopher we owe the term of <i>moral</i> philosophy, which +before his time was called the philosophy of <i>manners</i>. But +on this subject we are perhaps more interested by the modern +than by the ancient languages. Richardson, the painter of +the human heart, has coined some expressions to indicate its +little secret movements, which are admirable: that great +genius merited a higher education and more literary leisure +than the life of a printer could afford. Montaigne created +some bold expressions, many of which have not survived him; +his <i>incuriosité</i>, so opposite to curiosity, well describes that +state of negligence where we will not learn that of which we +are ignorant. With us the word <i>incurious</i> was described by +Heylin, 1656, as an unusual word; it has been appropriately +adopted by our best writers, although we still want +<i>incuriosity</i>. Charron invented <i>étrangeté</i> unsuccessfully, but +which, says a French critic, would be the true substantive of +the word <i>étrange</i>; our Locke is the solitary instance produced +for “foreignness” for “remoteness or want of relation to +something.” Malherbe borrowed from the Latin, <i>insidieux</i>, +<i>sécurité</i>, which have been received; but a bolder word, +<i>dévouloir</i>, by which he proposed to express <i>cesser de vouloir</i>, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page28" id="page28"></a>28</span> +has not. A term, however, expressive and precise. Corneille +happily introduced <i>invaincu</i> in a verse in the Cid,</p> + +<p class="center1 f90">Vous êtes <i>invaincu</i>, mais non pas <i>invincible</i>.</p> + +<p class="noind">Yet this created word by their great poet has not sanctioned +this fine distinction among the French, for we are told that +it is almost a solitary instance. Balzac was a great inventor +of neologisms. <i>Urbanité</i> and <i>féliciter</i> were struck in his +mint. “Si le mot <i>féliciter</i> n’est pas française, il le sera l’année +qui vient;” so confidently proud was the neologist, and +it prospered as well as <i>urbanité</i>, of which he says, “Quand +l’usage aura muri parmi nous un mot de si mauvais gout, et +corrigé <i>l’amertume de la nouveauté</i> qui s’y peut trouver, nous +nous y accoutumerons comme aux autres que nous avons +emprunté de la même langue.” Balzac was, however, too +sanguine in some other words; for his <i>délecter</i>, his <i>sériosité</i>, +&c. still retain their “bitterness of novelty.”</p> + +<p>Menage invented a term of which an equivalent is wanting +in our language; “J’ai fait <i>prosateur</i> à l’imitation de l’italien +<i>prosatore</i>, pour dire un homme qui écrit en prose.” To distinguish +a prose from a verse writer, we <i>once</i> had “a proser.” +Drayton uses it; but this useful distinction has unluckily +degenerated, and the current sense is so daily urgent, that the +purer sense is irrecoverable.</p> + +<p>When D’Albancourt was translating Lucian, he invented +in French the words <i>indolence</i> and <i>indolent</i>, to describe a momentary +languor, rather than that habitual indolence in which +sense they are now accepted; and in translating Tacitus, he +created the word <i>turbulemment</i>; but it did not prosper any +more than that of <i>temporisement</i>. Segrais invented the word +<i>impardonnable</i>, which, after having been rejected, was revived, +and is equivalent to our expressive <i>unpardonable</i>. Molière +ridiculed some neologisms of the <i>Précieuses</i> of his day; but +we are too apt to ridicule that which is new, and which we often +adopt when it becomes old. Molière laughed at the term +<i>s’encanailler</i>, to describe one who assumed the manners of a +blackguard; the expressive word has remained in the language. +The meaning is disputed as well as the origin is lost +of some novel terms. This has happened to a word in daily +use—<i>Fudge</i>! It is a cant term not in Grose, and only traced +by Todd not higher than to Goldsmith. It is, however, no +invention of his. In a pamphlet, entitled “Remarks upon +the Navy,” 1700, the term is declared to have been the name +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page29" id="page29"></a>29</span> +of a certain nautical personage who had lived in the lifetime +of the writer. “There was, sir, in our time, one <i>Captain +Fudge</i>, commander of a merchantman, who upon his return +from a voyage, how ill-fraught soever his ship was, always +brought home his owners a good cargo of lies; so much that +now, aboard ship, the sailors, when they hear a great lie told, +cry out, ‘You <i>fudge</i> it!’” It is singular that such an +obscure byword among sailors should have become one of the +most popular in our familiar style; and not less, that recently +at the bar, in a court of law, its precise meaning perplexed +plaintiff and defendant and their counsel. I think it does not +signify mere lies, but bouncing lies, or rhodomontades.</p> + +<p>There are two remarkable French words created by the +Abbé de Saint Pierre, who passed his meritorious life in the +contemplation of political morality and universal benevolence—<i>bienfaisance</i> +and <i>gloriole</i>. He invented <i>gloriole</i> as a contemptuous +diminutive of <i>glorie</i>; to describe that vanity of +some egotists, so proud of the small talents which they may +have received from nature or from accident. <i>Bienfaisance</i> +first appeared in this sentence: “L’Esprit de la vraie religion +et le principal but de l’evangile c’est <i>la bienfaisance</i>, c’est-à-dire +la pratique de la charité envers le prochain.” This word +was so new, that in the moment of its creation this good man +explained its necessity and origin. Complaining that “the +word ‘charity’ is abused by all sorts of Christians in the +persecution of their enemies, and even heretics affirm that +they are practising Christian charity in persecuting other +heretics, I have sought for a term which might convey to us +a precise idea of doing good to our neighbours, and I can form +none more proper to make myself understood than the term +of <i>bienfaisance</i>, good-doing. Let those who like, use it; I +would only be understood, and it is not equivocal.” The +happy word was at first criticised, but at length every kind +heart found it responded to its own feeling. Some verses from +Voltaire, alluding to the political reveries of the good abbé, +notice the critical opposition; yet the new word answered to +the great rule of Horace.</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Certain législateur, dont la plume féconde</p> +<p>Fit tant de vains projets pour le bien du monde,</p> +<p>Et qui depuis trente ans écrit pour des ingrats,</p> +<p>Vient de créer un mot qui manque à Vaugelas:</p> +<p>Ce mot est <span class="sc">Bienfaisance</span>; il me plaît, il rassemble</p> +<p>Si le cœur en est cru, bien des vertus ensemble.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page30" id="page30"></a>30</span></p> +<p>Petits grammairiens, grands précepteurs de sots,</p> +<p>Qui pesez la parole et mesurez les mots,</p> +<p>Pareille expression vous semble hazardée,</p> +<p>Mais l’univers entier doit en cherir l’idée!</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>The French revolutionists, in their rage for innovation, +almost barbarised the pure French of the Augustan age of +their literature, as they did many things which never before +occurred; and sometimes experienced feelings as transitory as +they were strange. Their nomenclature was copious; but +the revolutionary jargon often shows the danger and the +necessity of neologisms. They form an appendix to the +Academy Dictionary. Our plain English has served to enrich +this odd mixture of philology and politics: <i>Club</i>, <i>clubiste</i>, +<i>comité</i>, <i>jure</i>, <i>juge de paix</i>, blend with their <i>terrorisme</i>, <i>lanterner</i>, +a verb active, <i>lévee en masse</i>, <i>noyades</i>, and the other +verb active, <i>septembriser</i>, &c. The barbarous term <i>demoralisation</i> +is said to have been the invention of the horrid +capuchin Chabot; and the remarkable expression of <i>arrière +pensée</i> belonged exclusively in its birth to the jesuitic astuteness +of the Abbé Sieyes, that political actor, who, in changing +sides, never required prompting in his new part!</p> + +<p>A new word, the result of much consideration with its +author, or a term which, though unknown to the language, +conveys a collective assemblage of ideas by a fortunate designation, +is a precious contribution of genius; new words should +convey new ideas. Swift, living amidst a civil war of pamphlets, +when certain writers were regularly employed by one +party to draw up replies to the other, created a term not to +be found in our dictionaries, but which, by a single stroke, +characterises these hirelings; he called them <i>answer-jobbers</i>. +We have not dropped the fortunate expression from any +want of its use, but of perception in our lexicographers. The +celebrated Marquis of Lansdowne introduced a useful word, +which has of late been warmly adopted in France as well as +in England—<i>to liberalise</i>; the noun has been drawn out of +the verb—for in the marquis’s time that was only an abstract +conception which is now a sect; and to <i>liberalise</i> was theoretically +introduced before the <i>liberals</i> arose.<a name="FnAnchor_28" id="FnAnchor_28" href="#Footnote_28"><span class="sp">28</span></a> It is curious +to observe that as an adjective it had formerly in our language +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page31" id="page31"></a>31</span> +a very opposite meaning to its recent one. It was +synonymous with “libertine or licentious;” we have “a +<i>liberal</i> villain” and “a most profane and <i>liberal</i> counsellor;” +we find one declaring “I have spoken <i>too liberally</i>.” This +is unlucky for the <i>liberals</i>, who will not—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Give allowance to our <i>liberal</i> jests</p> +<p>Upon their persons—</p> + +<p class="i8 sc">Beaumont and Fletcher.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Dr. Priestley employed a forcible, but not an elegant term, +to mark the general information which had begun in his day; +this he frequently calls “the <i>spread</i> of knowledge.” Burke +attempted to brand with a new name that set of pert, petulant, +sophistical sciolists, whose philosophy the French, since +their revolutionary period, have distinguished as <i>philosophism</i>, +and the philosophers themselves as <i>philosophistes</i>. He would +have designated them as <i>literators</i>, but few exotic words will +circulate; new words must be the coinage of our own language +to blend with the vernacular idiom. Many new words +are still wanted. We have no word by which we could translate +the <i>otium</i> of the Latins, the <i>dillettante</i> of the Italians, +the <i>alembiqué</i> of the French, as an epithet to describe that +sublimated ingenuity which exhausts the mind, till, like the +fusion of the diamond, the intellect itself disappears. A philosopher, +in an extensive view of a subject in all its bearings, +may convey to us the result of his last considerations by the +coinage of a novel and significant expression, as this of Professor +Dugald Stewart—<i>political religionism</i>. Let me claim +the honour of one pure neologism. I ventured to introduce +the term of <span class="sc">Father-land</span> to describe our <i>natale solum</i>; I +have lived to see it adopted by Lord Byron and by Mr. +Southey, and the word is now common. A lady has even +composed both the words and the air of a song on “Father-land.” +This energetic expression may therefore be considered +as authenticated; and patriotism may stamp it with its glory +and its affection. <span class="sc">Father-land</span> is congenial with the language +in which we find that other fine expression <span class="sc">mother-tongue</span>. +The patriotic neologism originated with me in +Holland, when, in early life, it was my daily pursuit to turn +over the glorious history of its independence under the title +of <i>Vaderlandsche Historie</i>—the history of <span class="sc">Father-land</span>!</p> + +<p>If we acknowledge that the creation of some neologisms +may sometimes produce the beautiful, the revival of the dead +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page32" id="page32"></a>32</span> +is the more authentic miracle; for a new word must long remain +doubtful, but an ancient word happily recovered rests +on a basis of permanent strength; it has both novelty and +authority. A collection of <i>picturesque words</i>, found among +our ancient writers, would constitute a precious supplement +to the history of our language. Far more expressive than +our term of <i>executioner</i> is their solemn one of the <i>deathsman</i>; +than our <i>vagabond</i>, their <i>scatterling</i>; than our <i>idiot</i> or +<i>lunatic</i>, their <i>moonling</i>,—a word which, Mr. Gifford observes, +should not have been suffered to grow obsolete. Herrick +finely describes by the term <i>pittering</i> the peculiar shrill and +short cry of the grasshopper: the cry of the grasshopper is +pit! pit! pit! quickly repeated. Envy “<i>dusking</i> the lustre” +of genius is a verb lost for us, but which gives a more precise +expression to the feeling than any other words which we +could use.</p> + +<p>The late Dr. Boucher, in the prospectus of his proposed +Dictionary, did me the honour, then a young writer, to quote +an opinion I had formed early in life of the purest source of +neology, which is in the <i>revival of old words</i>.</p> + +<p class="center1 f90">Words that wise Bacon or brave Rawleigh spake!</p> + +<p>We have lost many exquisite and picturesque expressions +through the dulness of our lexicographers, or by the deficiency +in that profounder study of our writers which their labours +require far more than they themselves know. The natural +graces of our language have been impoverished. The genius +that throws its prophetic eye over the language, and the +taste that must come from Heaven, no lexicographer imagines +are required to accompany him amidst a library of +old books!</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_19" id="Footnote_19" href="#FnAnchor_19"><span class="fn">19</span></a> Aulus Gellius, lib. i. c. 10.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_20" id="Footnote_20" href="#FnAnchor_20"><span class="fn">20</span></a> Instit. lib. i. c. 5.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_21" id="Footnote_21" href="#FnAnchor_21"><span class="fn">21</span></a> This verse was corrected by Bentley <i>procudere nummum</i>, instead of +<i>producere nomen</i>, which the critics agree is one of his happy conjectures.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_22" id="Footnote_22" href="#FnAnchor_22"><span class="fn">22</span></a> Henry Cockeram’s curious little “English Dictionarie, or an Interpretation +of hard English words”, 12mo, 1631, professes to give in its +first book “the choicest words themselves now in use, wherewith our +language is inriched and become so copious.” Many have not survived, +such as the following:—</p> + +<table class="nobctr" width="90%" summary="Contents"> + +<tr><td>Acyrologicall</td> <td>An improper speech.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Adacted</td> <td>Driven in by force.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Blandiloquy</td> <td>Flattering speech.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Compaginate</td> <td>To set together that which is broken.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Concessation</td> <td>Loytering.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Delitigate</td> <td>To scold, or chide vehemently.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Depalmate</td> <td>To give one a box on the ear.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Esuriate</td> <td>To hunger.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Strenuitie</td> <td>Activity.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Curiously enough, this author notes some words as those “now out of +use, and onely used of some ancient writers,” but which we now commonly +use. Such are the following:—</p> + +<table class="nobctr" width="90%" summary="Contents"> + +<tr><td>Abandon</td> <td>To forsake or cast off.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Abate</td> <td>To make lesse, diminish, or take from.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p><a name="Footnote_23" id="Footnote_23" href="#FnAnchor_23"><span class="fn">23</span></a> A most striking instance of the change of meaning in a word is in the +old law-term <i>let</i>—“without <i>let</i> or hindrance;” meaning void of all opposition. +Hence, “I will <i>let</i> you,” meant “I will hinder you;” and not as +we should now think, “I will give you free leave.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_24" id="Footnote_24" href="#FnAnchor_24"><span class="fn">24</span></a> Shakspeare makes “Ancient Pistol” use a new-coined Italian word, +when he speaks of being “better accommodated;” to the great delight of +Justice Shallow, who exclaims, “It comes from <i>accommodo</i>—a good +phrase!” And Ben Jonson, in his “Tale of a Tub,” ridicules Inigo +Jones’s love of two words he often used:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + + <p class="i4">————If it <i>conduce</i></p> +<p>To the design, whate’er is <i>feasible</i>,</p> +<p>I can express.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p><a name="Footnote_25" id="Footnote_25" href="#FnAnchor_25"><span class="fn">25</span></a> The term <i>pluck</i>, once only known to the prize-ring, has now got into +use in general conversation, and also into literature, as a term indicative +of ready courage.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_26" id="Footnote_26" href="#FnAnchor_26"><span class="fn">26</span></a> Such terms as “<i>patent</i> to the public”—“<i>normal</i> condition”—“<i>crass</i> +behaviour,” are the inventions of the last few years.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_27" id="Footnote_27" href="#FnAnchor_27"><span class="fn">27</span></a> Shakspeare has a powerfully-composed line in the speech of the Duke +of Burgundy, (<i>Henry V.</i> Act v. Sc. 2), when, describing the fields overgrown +with weeds, he exclaims—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + + <p class="i5">——The coulter rusts,</p> +<p>That should <i>deracinate</i> such <i>savagery</i>.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p><a name="Footnote_28" id="Footnote_28" href="#FnAnchor_28"><span class="fn">28</span></a> The “Quarterly Review” recently marked the word <i>liberalise</i> in +italics as a strange word, undoubtedly not aware of its origin. It has +been lately used by Mr. Dugald Stewart, “to <i>liberalise</i> the views.”—Dissert. +2nd part, p. 138.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>THE PHILOSOPHY OF PROVERBS.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">In</span> antique furniture we sometimes discover a convenience +which long disuse had made us unacquainted with, and are +surprised by the aptness which we did not suspect was concealed +in its solid forms. We have found the labour of the +workmen to have been as admirable as the material itself, +which is still resisting the mouldering touch of time among +those modern inventions, elegant and unsubstantial, which, often +put together with unseasoned wood, are apt to warp and fly +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page33" id="page33"></a>33</span> +into pieces when brought into use. We have found how +strength consists in the selection of materials, and that, whenever +the substitute is not better than the original, we are +losing something in that test of experience, which all things +derive from duration.</p> + +<p>Be this as it may! I shall not unreasonably await for the +artists of our novelties to retrograde into massive greatness, +although I cannot avoid reminding them how often they revive +the forgotten things of past times! It is well known +that many of our novelties were in use by our ancestors! In +the history of the human mind there is, indeed, a sort of +antique furniture which I collect, not merely for their antiquity, +but for the sound condition in which I still find them, +and the compactness which they still show. Centuries have +not worm-eaten their solidity! and the utility and delightfulness +which they still afford make them look as fresh and +as ingenious as any of our patent inventions.</p> + +<p>By the title of the present article the reader has anticipated +the nature of the old furniture to which I allude. I +propose to give what, in the style of our times, may be called +the Philosophy of Proverbs—a topic which seems virgin. +The art of reading proverbs has not, indeed, always been acquired +even by some of their admirers; but my observations, +like their subject, must be versatile and unconnected; and I +must bespeak indulgence for an attempt to illustrate a very +curious branch of literature, rather not understood than quite +forgotten.</p> + +<p>Proverbs have long been in disuse. “A man of fashion,” +observes Lord Chesterfield, “never has recourse to proverbs +and vulgar aphorisms;” and, since the time his lordship so +solemnly interdicted their use, they appear to have withered +away under the ban of his anathema. His lordship was +little conversant with the history of proverbs, and would +unquestionably have smiled on those “men of fashion” of +another stamp, who, in the days of Elizabeth, James, and +Charles, were great collectors of them; would appeal to them +in their conversations, and enforce them in their learned or +their statesmanlike correspondence. Few, perhaps, even now, +suspect that these neglected fragments of wisdom, which +exist among all nations, still offer many interesting objects for +the studies of the philosopher and the historian; and for men +of the world still open an extensive school of human life and +manners.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page34" id="page34"></a>34</span></p> + +<p>The home-spun adages, and the rusty “sayed-saws,” which +remain in the mouths of the people, are adapted to their capacities +and their humours. Easily remembered, and readily +applied, these are the philosophy of the vulgar, and often +more sound than that of their masters! whoever would learn +what the people think, and how they feel, must not reject +even these as insignificant. The proverbs of the street and +of the market, true to nature, and lasting only because they +are true, are records that the populace at Athens and at +Rome were the same people as at Paris and at London, and +as they had before been in the city of Jerusalem!</p> + +<p>Proverbs existed before books. The Spaniards date the +origin of their <i>refranes que dicen las viejas tras el fuego</i>, +“sayings of old wives by their firesides,” before the existence +of any writings in their language, from the circumstance that +these are in the old romance or rudest vulgar idiom. The +most ancient poem in the Edda, “the sublime speech of +Odin,” abounds with ancient proverbs, strikingly descriptive +of the ancient Scandinavians. Undoubtedly proverbs in the +earliest ages long served as the unwritten language of morality, +and even of the useful arts; like the oral traditions of +the Jews, they floated down from age to age on the lips of +successive generations. The name of the first sage who +sanctioned the saying would in time be forgotten, while the +opinion, the metaphor, or the expression, remained, consecrated +into a proverb! Such was the origin of those memorable +sentences by which men learnt to think and to speak +appositely; they were precepts which no man could contradict, +at a time when authority was valued more than opinion, +and experience preferred to novelty. The proverbs of a +father became the inheritance of a son; the mistress of a +family perpetuated hers through her household; the workman +condensed some traditional secret of his craft into a proverbial +expression. When countries are not yet populous, and +property has not yet produced great inequalities in its ranks, +every day will show them how “the drunkard and the +glutton come to poverty, and drowsiness clothes a man +with rags.” At such a period he who gave counsel gave +wealth.</p> + +<p>It might therefore have been decided, <i>à priori</i>, that the +most homely proverbs would abound in the most ancient +writers—and such we find in Hesiod; a poet whose learning +was not drawn from books. It could only have been in the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page35" id="page35"></a>35</span> +agricultural state that this venerable bard could have indicated +a state of repose by this rustic proverb:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p><span class="grk" title="Pêdalion men uper kapnou katadeio">Πηδάλιον μὲν ύπὲρ καπνοῦ καταδεῖο</span></p> +<p>Hang your plough-beam o’er the hearth!</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>The envy of rival workmen is as justly described by a reference +to the humble manufacturers of earthenware as by +the elevated jealousies of the literati and the artists of a +more polished age. The famous proverbial verse in Hesiod’s +Works and Days—</p> + +<p class="center1 f90"><span class="grk" title="Kai kerameus keramei koteei">Καὶ κεραμεὺς κεραμεῖ κοτέει</span>,</p> + +<p class="noind">is literally, “The potter is hostile to the potter!”</p> + +<p>The admonition of the poet to his brother, to prefer a +friendly accommodation to a litigious lawsuit, has fixed a +paradoxical proverb often applied,—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p><span class="grk" title="Pleon êmisu pantos">Πλέον ἢμισυ παντός</span>,</p> +<p>The half is better than the whole!</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>In the progress of time, the stock of popular proverbs received +accessions from the highest sources of human intelligence; +as the philosophers of antiquity formed their collections, +they increased in “weight and number.” Erasmus +has pointed out some of these sources, in the responses of +oracles; the allegorical symbols of Pythagoras; the verses of +the poets; allusions to historical incidents; mythology and +apologue; and other recondite origins. Such dissimilar +matters, coming from all quarters, were melted down into +this vast body of aphoristic knowledge. Those “<span class="sc">words of +the wise</span> and their <span class="sc">dark sayings</span>,” as they are distinguished +in that large collection which bears the name of the +great Hebrew monarch, at length seem to have required +commentaries; for what else can we infer of the enigmatic +wisdom of the sages, when the royal parœmiographer classes +among their studies, that of “<i>understanding a proverb and +the interpretation</i>?” This elevated notion of “the dark +sayings of the wise” accords with the bold conjecture of +their origin which the Stagyrite has thrown out, who considered +them as the wrecks of an ancient philosophy which +had been lost to mankind by the fatal revolutions of all +human things, and that those had been saved from the general +ruin by their pithy elegance and their diminutive form; +like those marine shells found on the tops of mountains, the +relics of the Deluge! Even at a later period, the sage of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page36" id="page36"></a>36</span> +Cheronea prized them among the most solemn mysteries; and +Plutarch has described them in a manner which proverbs may +even still merit: “Under the veil of these curious sentences +are hid those germs of morals which the masters of philosophy +have afterwards developed into so many volumes.”</p> + +<p>At the highest period of Grecian genius, the tragic and the +comic poets introduced into their dramas the proverbial style. +St. Paul quotes a line which still remains among the first +exercises of our school-pens:—</p> + +<p class="center1 f90">Evil communications corrupt good manners.</p> + +<p class="noind">It is a verse found in a fragment of Menander the comic +poet:</p> + +<p class="center1 f90"><span class="grk" title="Phtheirousin hêthê chrêsth’ homiliai kakai">Φθείρουσιν ἢθη χρήσθ᾽ ὁμιλίαι κακαί</span>.</p> + +<p class="noind">As this verse is a proverb, and the apostle, and indeed the +highest authority, Jesus himself, consecrates the use of proverbs +by their occasional application, it is uncertain whether +St. Paul quotes the Grecian poet, or only repeats some popular +adage. Proverbs were bright shafts in the Greek and +Latin quivers; and when Bentley, by a league of superficial +wits, was accused of pedantry for his use of some ancient +proverbs, the sturdy critic vindicated his taste by showing +that Cicero constantly introduced Greek proverbs into his +writings,—that Scaliger and Erasmus loved them, and had +formed collections drawn from the stores of antiquity.</p> + +<p>Some difficulty has occurred in the definition. Proverbs +must be distinguished from proverbial phrases, and from sententious +maxims; but as proverbs have many faces, from +their miscellaneous nature, the class itself scarcely admits of +any definition. When Johnson defined a proverb to be “a +short sentence frequently repeated by the people,” this definition +would not include the most curious ones, which have +not always circulated among the populace, nor even belong +to them; nor does it designate the vital qualities of a proverb. +The pithy quaintness of old Howell has admirably +described the ingredients of an exquisite proverb to be <i>sense, +shortness, and salt</i>. A proverb is distinguished from a maxim +or an apophthegm by that brevity which condenses a +thought or a metaphor, where one thing is said and another +is to be applied. This often produces wit, and that quick +pungency which excites surprise, but strikes with conviction; +this gives it an epigrammatic turn. George Herbert +entitled the small collection which he formed “Jacula Prudentium,” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page37" id="page37"></a>37</span> +Darts or Javelins! something hurled and striking +deeply; a characteristic of a proverb which possibly Herbert +may have borrowed from a remarkable passage in Plato’s +dialogue of “Protagoras or the Sophists.”</p> + +<p>The influence of proverbs over the minds and conversations +of a whole people is strikingly illustrated by this philosopher’s +explanation of the term <i>to laconise</i>,—the mode of speech +peculiar to the Lacedæmonians. This people affected to +appear <i>unlearned</i>, and seemed only emulous to excel the rest +of the Greeks in fortitude and in military skill. According +to Plato’s notion, this was really a political artifice, with a +view to conceal their pre-eminent wisdom. With the +jealousy of a petty state, they attempted to confine their +renowned sagacity within themselves, and under their +military to hide their contemplative character! The +philosopher assures those who in other cities imagined they +<i>laconised</i>, merely by imitating the severe exercises and the +other warlike manners of the Lacedæmonians, that they were +grossly deceived; and thus curiously describes the sort of +wisdom which this singular people practised.</p> + +<p>“If any one wish to converse with the meanest of the +Lacedæmonians, he will at first find him, for the most part, +apparently despicable in conversation; but afterwards, when +a proper opportunity presents itself, this same mean person, +like a <i>skilful jaculator, will hurl a sentence</i>, worthy of +attention, <i>short and contorted</i>; so that he who converses with +him will appear to be in no respect superior to a boy! That +<i>to laconise</i>, therefore, consists much more in philosophising +than in the love of exercise, is understood by some of the +present age, and was known to the ancients, they being +persuaded that the ability of <i>uttering such sentences</i> as these +is the province of a man perfectly learned. The seven sages +were emulators, lovers, and disciples of the <i>Lacedæmonian +erudition</i>. Their wisdom was a thing of this kind, viz. <i>short +sentences uttered by each, and worthy to be remembered</i>. +These men, assembling together, consecrated to Apollo the +first fruits of their wisdom; writing in the Temple of Apollo, +at Delphi, those sentences which are celebrated by all men, +viz. <i>Know thyself!</i> and <i>Nothing too much!</i> But on what +account do I mention these things? To show that <i>the mode +of philosophy among the ancients was a certain laconic +diction</i>.”<a name="FnAnchor_29" id="FnAnchor_29" href="#Footnote_29"><span class="sp">29</span></a></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page38" id="page38"></a>38</span></p> + +<p>The “laconisms” of the Lacedæmonians evidently partook +of the proverbial style: they were, no doubt, often proverbs +themselves. The very instances which Plato supplies of this +“laconising” are two most venerable proverbs.</p> + +<p>All this elevates the science of <span class="sc">proverbs</span>, and indicates +that these abridgments of knowledge convey great results, +with a parsimony of words prodigal of sense. They have, +therefore, preserved many “a short sentence, <span class="sc">not</span> repeated by +the people.”</p> + +<p>It is evident, however, that the earliest writings of +every people are marked by their most homely, or domestic +proverbs; for these were more directly addressed to their +wants. Franklin, who may be considered as the founder of a +people who were suddenly placed in a stage of civil society +which as yet could afford no literature, discovered the +philosophical cast of his genius, when he filled his almanacs +with proverbs, by the ingenious contrivance of framing them +into a connected discourse, delivered by an old man attending +an auction. “These proverbs,” he tells us, “which contained +the wisdom of many ages and nations, when their scattered +counsels were brought together, made a great impression. +They were reprinted in Britain, in a large sheet of paper, and +stuck up in houses: and were twice translated in France, and +distributed among their poor parishioners.” The same occurrence +had happened with us ere we became a reading people. +Sir Thomas Elyot, in the reign of Henry the Eighth, +describing the ornaments of a nobleman’s house, among his +hangings, and plate, and pictures, notices the engraving of +proverbs “on his plate and vessels, which served the guests +with a most opportune counsel and comments.” Later even +than the reign of Elizabeth our ancestors had proverbs +always before them, on everything that had room for a piece +of advice on it; they had them painted in their tapestries, +stamped on the most ordinary utensils, on the blades of their +knives,<a name="FnAnchor_30" id="FnAnchor_30" href="#Footnote_30"><span class="sp">30</span></a> the borders of their plates,<a name="FnAnchor_31" id="FnAnchor_31" href="#Footnote_31"><span class="sp">31</span></a> and “conned them out +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page39" id="page39"></a>39</span> +of goldsmiths’ rings.”<a name="FnAnchor_32" id="FnAnchor_32" href="#Footnote_32"><span class="sp">32</span></a> The usurer, in Robert Greene’s +“Groat’s worth of Wit,” compressed all his philosophy into +the circle of his ring, having learned sufficient Latin to understand +the proverbial motto of “Tu tibi cura!” The husband +was reminded of his lordly authority when he only looked +into his trencher, one of its learned aphorisms having descended +to us,—</p> + +<p class="center1 f90">The calmest husbands make the stormiest wives.</p> + +<p>The English proverbs of the populace, most of which are +still in circulation, were collected by old John Heywood.<a name="FnAnchor_33" id="FnAnchor_33" href="#Footnote_33"><span class="sp">33</span></a> +They are arranged by Tusser for “the parlour—the guest’s +chamber—the hall—table-lessons,” &c. Not a small portion +of our ancient proverbs were adapted to rural life, when our +ancestors lived more than ourselves amidst the works of God, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page40" id="page40"></a>40</span> +and less among those of men.<a name="FnAnchor_34" id="FnAnchor_34" href="#Footnote_34"><span class="sp">34</span></a> At this time, one of our old +statesmen, in commending the art of compressing a tedious +discourse into a few significant phrases, suggested the use of +proverbs in diplomatic intercourse, convinced of the great +benefit which would result to the negotiators themselves, as +well as to others! I give a literary curiosity of this kind. +A member of the House of Commons, in the reign of +Elizabeth, made a speech entirely composed of the most +homely proverbs. The subject was a bill against double +payments of book-debts. Knavish tradesmen were then in +the habit of swelling out their book-debts with those who +took credit, particularly to their younger customers. One of +the members who began to speak “for very fear shook,” and +stood silent. The nervous orator was followed by a blunt +and true representative of the famed governor of Barataria, +delivering himself thus—“It is now my chance to speak +something, and that without humming or hawing. I think +this law is a good law. Even reckoning makes long friends. +As far goes the penny as the penny’s master. <i>Vigilantibus +non dormientibus jura subveniunt.</i> Pay the reckoning overnight +and ye shall not be troubled in the morning. If ready +money be <i>mensura publica</i>, let every one cut his coat according +to his cloth. When his old suit is in the wane, let him +stay till that his money bring a new suit in the increase.”<a name="FnAnchor_35" id="FnAnchor_35" href="#Footnote_35"><span class="sp">35</span></a></p> + +<p>Another instance of the use of proverbs among our statesmen +occurs in a manuscript letter of Sir Dudley Carlton, +written in 1632, on the impeachment of Lord Middlesex, +who, he says, is “this day to plead his own cause in the +Exchequer-chamber, about an account of four-score thousand +pounds laid to his charge. How his lordship sped I know +not, but do remember well the French proverb, <i>Qui mange de</i> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page41" id="page41"></a>41</span> +<i>l’oy du Roy chiera une plume quarante ans après</i>. ‘Who +eats of the king’s goose, will void a feather forty years +after!’”</p> + +<p>This was the era of proverbs with us; for then they were +<i>spoken</i> by all ranks of society. The free use of trivial +proverbs got them into disrepute; and as the abuse of a thing +raises a just opposition to its practice, a slender wit affecting +“a cross humour,” published a little volume of “Crossing of +Proverbs, Cross-answers, and Cross-humours.” He pretends +to contradict the most popular ones; but he has not always +the genius to strike at amusing paradoxes.<a name="FnAnchor_36" id="FnAnchor_36" href="#Footnote_36"><span class="sp">36</span></a></p> + +<p>Proverbs were long the favourites of our neighbours; in +the splendid and refined court of Louis the Fourteenth they +gave rise to an odd invention. They plotted comedies and +even fantastical ballets from their subjects. In these Curiosities +of Literature I cannot pass by such eccentric inventions +unnoticed.</p> + +<p>A <span class="sc">Comedy</span> <i>of proverbs</i> is described by the Duke de la +Vallière, which was performed in 1634 with prodigious success. +He considers that this comedy ought to be ranked +among farces; but it is gay, well-written, and curious for +containing the best proverbs, which are happily introduced +in the dialogue.</p> + +<p>A more extraordinary attempt was a <span class="sc">Ballet</span> <i>of proverbs</i>. +Before the opera was established in France, the ancient ballets +formed the chief amusement of the court, and Louis the +Fourteenth himself joined with the performers. The singular +attempt of forming a pantomimical dance out of proverbs is +quite French; we have a “ballet des proverbes, dansé par le +Roi, in 1654.” At every proverb the scene changed, and +adapted itself to the subject. I shall give two or three of +the <i>entrées</i> that we may form some notion of these <i>capriccios</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page42" id="page42"></a>42</span></p> + +<p>The proverb was—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p><i>Tel menace qui a grand peur.</i></p> +<p>He threatens who is afraid.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">The scene was composed of swaggering scaramouches and +some honest cits, who at length beat them off.</p> + +<p>At another <i>entrée</i> the proverb was—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p><i>L’occasion fait le larron.</i></p> +<p>Opportunity makes the thief.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">Opportunity was acted by le Sieur Beaubrun, but it is difficult +to conceive how the real could personify the abstract +personage. The thieves were the Duke d’Amville and Monsieur +de la Chesnaye.</p> + +<p>Another <i>entrée</i> was the proverb of—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p><i>Ce qui vient de la flute s’en va au tambour.</i></p> +<p>What comes by the pipe goes by the tabor.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">A loose dissipated officer was performed by le Sieur l’Anglois; +the <i>Pipe</i> by St. Aignan, and the <i>Tabor</i> by le Sieur le Comte! +In this manner every proverb was <i>spoken in action</i>, the whole +connected by dialogue. More must have depended on the +actors than the poet.<a name="FnAnchor_37" id="FnAnchor_37" href="#Footnote_37"><span class="sp">37</span></a></p> + +<p>The French long retained this fondness for proverbs; for +they still have dramatic compositions entitled <i>proverbes</i>, on a +more refined plan. Their invention is so recent, that the +term is not in their great dictionary of Trevoux. These +<i>proverbes</i> are dramas of a single act, invented by Carmontel, +who possessed a peculiar vein of humour, but who designed +them only for private theatricals. Each <i>proverb</i> furnished a +subject for a few scenes, and created a situation powerfully +comic: it is a dramatic amusement which does not appear to +have reached us, but one which the celebrated Catherine of +Russia delighted to compose for her own society.</p> + +<p>Among the middle classes of society to this day, we may +observe that certain family proverbs are traditionally preserved: +the favourite saying of a father is repeated by the +sons; and frequently the conduct of a whole generation has +been influenced by such domestic proverbs. This may be +perceived in many of the mottos of our old nobility, which +seem to have originated in some habitual proverb of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page43" id="page43"></a>43</span> +founder of the family. In ages when proverbs were most +prevalent, such pithy sentences would admirably serve in the +ordinary business of life, and lead on to decision, even in its +greater exigencies. Orators, by some lucky proverb, without +wearying their auditors, would bring conviction home to their +bosoms: and great characters would appeal to a proverb, or +deliver that which in time by its aptitude became one. When +Nero was reproached for the ardour with which he gave himself +up to the study of music, he replied to his censurers by +the Greek proverb, “An artist lives everywhere.” The +emperor answered in the spirit of Rousseau’s system, that +every child should be taught some trade. When Cæsar, after +anxious deliberation, decided on the passage of the Rubicon +(which very event has given rise to a proverb), rousing himself +with a start of courage, he committed himself to Fortune, +with that proverbial expression on his lips, used by gamesters +in desperate play: having passed the Rubicon, he exclaimed, +“The die is cast!” The answer of Paulus Æmilius to the +relations of his wife, who had remonstrated with him on his +determination to separate himself from her against whom no +fault could be alleged, has become one of our most familiar +proverbs. This hero acknowledged the excellences of his +lady; but, requesting them to look on his shoe, which +appeared to be well made, he observed, “None of you know +where the shoe pinches!” He either used a proverbial +phrase, or by its aptness it has become one of the most +popular.</p> + +<p>There are, indeed, proverbs connected with the characters +of eminent men. They were either their favourite ones, or +have originated with themselves. Such a collection would +form a historical curiosity. To the celebrated Bayard are +the French indebted for a military proverb, which some +of them still repeat, “<i>Ce que le gantelet gagne le gorgerin le +mange</i>”—“What the gauntlet gets, the gorget consumes.” +That reflecting soldier well calculated the profits of a military +life, which consumes, in the pomp and waste which are necessary +for its maintenance, the slender pay it receives, and even +what its rapacity sometimes acquires. The favourite proverb +of Erasmus was <i>Festina lente</i>!—“Hasten slowly!”<a name="FnAnchor_38" id="FnAnchor_38" href="#Footnote_38"><span class="sp">38</span></a> He +wished it be inscribed wherever it could meet our eyes, on +public buildings, and on our rings and seals. One of our own +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page44" id="page44"></a>44</span> +statesmen used a favourite sentence, which has enlarged our +stock of national proverbs. Sir Amias Pawlet, when he perceived +too much hurry in any business, was accustomed to +say, “Stay awhile, to make an end the sooner.” Oliver +Cromwell’s coarse but descriptive proverb conveys the contempt +he felt for some of his mean and troublesome coadjutors: +“Nits will be lice!” The Italians have a proverb, +which has been occasionally applied to certain political personages:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p><i>Egli e quello che Dio vuole;</i></p> +<p><i>E sarà quello che Dio vorrà!</i></p> + +<p class="s">He is what God pleases;</p> +<p>He shall be what God wills!</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">Ere this was a proverb, it had served as an embroidered motto +on the mystical mantle of Castruccio Castracani. That military +genius, who sought to revolutionise Italy, and aspired to +its sovereignty, lived long enough to repent the wild romantic +ambition which provoked all Italy to confederate against him; +the mysterious motto he assumed entered into the proverbs +of his country! The Border proverb of the Douglases, “It +were better to hear the lark sing than the mouse cheep,” was +adopted by every Border chief, to express, as Sir Walter Scott +observes, what the great Bruce had pointed out, that the +woods and hills of their country were their safest bulwarks, +instead of the fortified places which the English surpassed +their neighbours in the arts of assaulting or defending. These +illustrations indicate one of the sources of proverbs; they +have often resulted from the spontaneous emotions or the +profound reflections of some extraordinary individual, whose +energetic expression was caught by a faithful ear, never to +perish!</p> + +<p>The poets have been very busy with proverbs in all the +languages of Europe: some appear to have been the favourite +lines of some ancient poem: even in more refined times, many +of the pointed verses of Boileau and Pope have become proverbial. +Many trivial and laconic proverbs bear the jingle of +alliteration or rhyme, which assisted their circulation, and +were probably struck off extempore; a manner which Swift +practised, who was a ready coiner of such rhyming and ludicrous +proverbs: delighting to startle a collector by his facetious +or sarcastic humour, in the shape of an “old saying and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page45" id="page45"></a>45</span> +true.” Some of these rhyming proverbs are, however, terse +and elegant: we have</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> +<p>Little strokes</p> +<p>Fell great oaks.</p> +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>The Italian—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> +<p><i>Chi duo lepri caccia</i></p> +<p><i>Uno perde, e l’altro lascia.</i></p> +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="center1 f90">Who hunts two hares, loses one and leaves the other.</p> + +<p>The haughty Spaniard—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> +<p><i>El dar es honor,</i></p> +<p><i>Y <span class="correction" title="originally 'l'">el</span> pedir dolor.</i></p> +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="center1 f90">To give is honour, to ask is grief.</p> + +<p class="noind">And the French—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr f90"> +<p class="i2"><i>Ami de table</i></p> +<p class="i2"><i>Est variable.</i></p> + +<p class="s">The friend of the table</p> +<p>Is very variable.</p> +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>The composers of these short proverbs were a numerous +race of poets, who, probably, among the dreams of their immortality +never suspected that they were to descend to posterity, +themselves and their works unknown, while their extempore +thoughts would be repeated by their own nation.</p> + +<p>Proverbs were at length consigned to the people, when +books were addressed to scholars; but the people did not find +themselves so destitute of practical wisdom, by preserving +their national proverbs, as some of those closet students who +had ceased to repeat them. The various humours of mankind, +in the mutability of human affairs, had given birth to +every species; and men were wise, or merry, or satirical, and +mourned or rejoiced in proverbs. Nations held an universal +intercourse of proverbs, from the eastern to the western +world; for we discover among those which appear strictly +national, many which are common to them all. Of our own +familiar ones several may be tracked among the snows of the +Latins and the Greeks, and have sometimes been drawn from +“The Mines of the East:” like decayed families which remain +in obscurity, they may boast of a high lineal descent +whenever they recover their lost title-deeds. The vulgar +proverb, “To carry coals to Newcastle,” local and idiomatic +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page46" id="page46"></a>46</span> +as it appears, however, has been borrowed and applied by ourselves; +it may be found among the Persians: in the “Bustan” +of Sadi we have <i>Infers piper in Hindostan</i>; “To carry +pepper to Hindostan;” among the Hebrews, “To carry oil +to the City of Olives;” a similar proverb occurs in Greek; +and in Galland’s “Maxims of the East” we may discover +how many of the most common proverbs among us, as well +as some of Joe Miller’s jests, are of oriental origin.</p> + +<p>The resemblance of certain proverbs in different nations, +must, however, be often ascribed to the identity of human +nature; similar situations and similar objects have unquestionably +made men think and act and express themselves +alike. All nations are parallels of each other! Hence all +parœmiographers, or collectors of proverbs, complain of the +difficulty of separating their own national proverbs from +those which have crept into the language from others, particularly +when nations have held much intercourse together. +We have a copious collection of Scottish proverbs by Kelly, +but this learned man was mortified at discovering that many +which he had long believed to have been genuine Scottish, +were not only English, but French, Italian, Spanish, Latin, +and Greek ones; many of his Scottish proverbs are almost +literally expressed among the fragments of remote antiquity. +It would have surprised him further had he been aware that +his Greek originals were themselves but copies, and might +have been found in D’Herbelot, Erpenius, and Golius, and in +many Asiatic works, which have been more recently introduced +to the enlarged knowledge of the European student, +who formerly found his most extended researches limited by +Hellenistic lore.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was owing to an accidental circumstance that +the proverbs of the European nations have been preserved in +the permanent form of volumes. Erasmus is usually considered +as the first modern collector, but he appears to have +been preceded by Polydore Vergil, who bitterly reproaches +Erasmus with envy and plagiarism, for passing by his collection +without even a poor compliment for the inventor! Polydore +was a vain, superficial writer, who prided himself in +leading the way on more topics than the present. Erasmus, +with his usual pleasantry, provokingly excuses himself, by +acknowledging that he had forgotten his friend’s book! Few +sympathise with the quarrels of authors; and since Erasmus +has written a far better book than Polydore Vergil’s, the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page47" id="page47"></a>47</span> +original “<i>Adagia</i>” is left only to be commemorated in literary +history as one of its curiosities.<a name="FnAnchor_39" id="FnAnchor_39" href="#Footnote_39"><span class="sp">39</span></a></p> + +<p>The “Adagia” of Erasmus contains a collection of about +five thousand proverbs, gradually gathered from a constant +study of the ancients. Erasmus, blest with the genius which +could enliven a folio, delighted himself and all Europe by the +continued accessions he made to a volume which even now +may be the companion of literary men for a winter day’s fireside. +The successful example of Erasmus commanded the +imitation of the learned in Europe, and drew their attention +to their own national proverbs. Some of the most learned +men, and some not sufficiently so, were now occupied in this +new study.</p> + +<p>In Spain, Fernandez Nunes, a Greek professor, and the +Marquis of Santellana, a grandee, published collections of +their <i>Refranes</i>, or Proverbs, a term derived <span class="sc">A REFERENDO</span>, +because it is often repeated. The “Refranes o Proverbios +Castellanos,” par Cæsar Oudin, 1624, translated into French, +is a valuable compilation. In Cervantes and Quevedo, the +best practical illustrators, they are sown with no sparing +hand. There is an ample collection of Italian proverbs, by +Florio, who was an Englishman, of Italian origin, and who +published “Il Giardino di Ricreatione” at London, so early +as in 1591, exceeding six thousand proverbs; but they are +unexplained, and are often obscure. Another Italian in +England, Torriano, in 1649, published an interesting collection +in the diminutive form of a twenty-fours. It was subsequent +to these publications in England, that in Italy, +Angelus Monozini, in 1604, published his collection; and +Julius Varini, in 1642, produced his <i>Scuola del Vulgo</i>. In +France, Oudin, after others had preceded him, published a +collection of French proverbs, under the title of <i>Curiosités +Françoises</i>. Fleury de Bellingen’s <i>Explication de Proverbes +François</i>, on comparing it with <i>Les Illustres Proverbes Historiques</i>, +a subsequent publication, I discovered to be the +same work. It is the first attempt to render the study of +proverbs somewhat amusing. The plan consists of a dialogue +<span class="correction" title="corrected from betwen">between</span> a philosopher and a Sancho Pança, who blurts out his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page48" id="page48"></a>48</span> +proverbs with more delight than understanding. The philosopher +takes that opportunity of explaining them by the events +in which they originated, which, however, are not always to +be depended on. A work of high merit on French proverbs +is the unfinished one of the Abbé Tuet, sensible and learned. +A collection of Danish proverbs, accompanied by a French +translation, was printed at Copenhagen, in a quarto volume, +1761. England may boast of no inferior parœmiographers. +The grave and judicious Camden, the religious Herbert, the +entertaining Howell, the facetious Fuller, and the laborious +Ray, with others, have preserved our national sayings. The +Scottish have been largely collected and explained by the +learned Kelly. An excellent anonymous collection, not uncommon, +in various languages, 1707; the collector and translator +was Dr. J. Mapletoft. It must be acknowledged, that +although no nation exceeds our own in sterling sense, we +rarely rival the delicacy, the wit, and the felicity of expression +of the Spanish and the Italian, and the poignancy of +some of the French proverbs.</p> + +<p>The interest we may derive from the study of proverbs is +not confined to their universal truths, nor to their poignant +pleasantry; a philosophical mind will discover in proverbs a +great variety of the most curious knowledge. The manners +of a people are painted after life in their domestic proverbs; +and it would not be advancing too much to assert, that the +genius of the age might be often detected in its prevalent +ones. The learned Selden tells us, that the proverbs of +several nations were much studied by Bishop Andrews: the +reason assigned was, because “by them he knew the minds of +several nations, which,” said he, “is a brave thing, as we +count him wise who knows the minds and the insides of men, +which is done by knowing what is habitual to them.” Lord +Bacon condensed a wide circuit of philosophical thought, +when he observed that “the genius, wit, and spirit of a nation +are discovered by their proverbs.”</p> + +<p>Proverbs peculiarly national, while they convey to us the +modes of thinking, will consequently indicate the modes of +acting among a people. The Romans had a proverbial expression +for their last stake in play, <i>Rem ad triarios venisse</i>, “the +reserve are engaged!” a proverbial expression, from which the +military habits of the people might be inferred; the <i>triarii</i> +being their reserve. A proverb has preserved a curious custom +of ancient coxcombry, which originally came from the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page49" id="page49"></a>49</span> +Greeks. To men of effeminate manners in their dress, they +applied the proverb of <i>Unico digitulo scalpit caput</i>. Scratching +the head with a single finger was, it seems, done by the +critically nice youths in Rome, that they might not discompose +the economy of their hair. The Arab, whose unsettled +existence makes him miserable and interested, says, “Vinegar +given is better than honey bought.” Everything of high +esteem with him who is so often parched in the desert is +described as <i>milk</i>—“How large his flow of milk!” is a proverbial +expression with the Arab to distinguish the most +copious eloquence. To express a state of perfect repose, the +Arabian proverb is, “I throw the rein over my back;” an +allusion to the loosening of the cords of the camels, which +are thrown over their backs when they are sent to pasture. +We discover the rustic manners of our ancient Britons in the +Cambrian proverbs; many relate to the <i>hedge</i>. “The cleanly +Briton is seen in the <i>hedge</i>: the horse looks not on the <i>hedge</i> +but the corn: the bad husband’s <i>hedge</i> is full of gaps.” The +state of an agricultural people appears in such proverbs as +“You must not count your yearlings till May-day:” and +their proverbial sentence for old age is, “An old man’s end is +to keep sheep?” Turn from the vagrant Arab and the agricultural +Briton to a nation existing in a high state of artificial +civilization: the Chinese proverbs frequently allude to magnificent +buildings. Affecting a more solemn exterior than all +other nations, a favourite proverb with them is, “A grave and +majestic outside is, as it were, the <i>palace</i> of the soul.” Their +notion of a government is quite architectural. They say, “A +sovereign may be compared to a <i>hall</i>; his officers to the +steps that lead to it; the people to the ground on which they +stand.” What should we think of a people who had a proverb, +that “He who gives blows is a master, he who gives +none is a dog?” We should instantly decide on the mean +and servile spirit of those who could repeat it; and such we +find to have been that of the Bengalese, to whom the degrading +proverb belongs, derived from the treatment they were +used to receive from their Mogul rulers, who answered the +claims of their creditors by a vigorous application of the +whip! In some of the Hebrew proverbs we are struck by +the frequent allusions of that fugitive people to their own +history. The cruel oppression exercised by the ruling power, +and the confidence in their hope of change in the day of retribution, +was delivered in this Hebrew proverb—“When the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page50" id="page50"></a>50</span> +tale of bricks is doubled, Moses comes!” The fond idolatry +of their devotion to their ceremonial law, and to everything +connected with their sublime Theocracy, in their magnificent +Temple, is finely expressed by this proverb—“None ever took +a stone out of the Temple, but the dust did fly into his eyes.” +The Hebrew proverb that “A fast for a dream, is as fire for +stubble,” which it kindles, could only have been invented by +a people whose superstitions attached a holy mystery to fasts +and dreams. They imagined that a religious fast was propitious +to a religious dream; or to obtain the interpretation +of one which had troubled their imagination. Peyssonel, who +long resided among the Turks, observes that their proverbs +are full of sense, ingenuity, and elegance, the surest test of the +intellectual abilities of any nation. He said this to correct +the volatile opinion of De Tott, who, to convey an idea of +their stupid pride, quotes one of their favourite adages, of +which the truth and candour are admirable; “Riches in the +Indies, wit in Europe, and pomp among the Ottomans.”</p> + +<p>The Spaniards may appeal to their proverbs to show that +they were a high-minded and independent race. A Whiggish +jealousy of the monarchical power stamped itself on this +ancient one, <i>Va el rey hasta do peude, y no hasta do quiere</i>: +“The king goes as far as he is able, not as far as he desires.” +It must have been at a later period, when the national genius +became more subdued, and every Spaniard dreaded to find +under his own roof a spy or an informer, that another proverb +arose, <i>Con el rey y la inquisicion, chiton!</i> “With the +king and the Inquisition, hush!” The gravity and taciturnity +of the nation have been ascribed to the effects of this +proverb. Their popular but suppressed feelings on taxation, +and on a variety of dues exacted by their clergy, were murmured +in proverbs—<i>Lo que no lleva Christo lleva el fisco!</i> +“What Christ takes not, the exchequer carries away!” They +have a number of sarcastic proverbs on the tenacious gripe +of the “abad avariento,” the avaricious priest, who, “having +eaten the olio offered, claims the dish!” A striking mixture +of chivalric habits, domestic decency, and epicurean comfort, +appears in the Spanish proverb, <i>La muger y la salsa a la mano +de la lança</i>: “The wife and the sauce by the hand of the +lance;” to honour the dame, and to have the sauce near.</p> + +<p>The Italian proverbs have taken a tinge from their deep +and politic genius, and their wisdom seems wholly concentrated +in their personal interests. I think every tenth proverb, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page51" id="page51"></a>51</span> +in an Italian collection, is some cynical or some selfish +maxim: a book of the world for worldlings! The Venetian +proverb, <i>Pria Veneziana, poi Christiane</i>: “First Venetian, +and then Christian!” condenses the whole spirit of their +ancient Republic into the smallest space possible. Their +political proverbs no doubt arose from the extraordinary state +of a people sometimes distracted among republics, and sometimes +servile in petty courts. The Italian says, <i>I popoli s’ammazzano, +ed i principi s’abbracciano</i>: “The people murder one +another, and princes embrace one another.” <i>Chi prattica co’ +grandi, l’ultimo a tavola, e’l primo a strapazzi</i>: “Who dangles +after the great is the last at table, and the first at blows.” +<i>Chi non sa adulare, non sa regnare</i>: “Who knows not to +flatter, knows not to reign.” <i>Chi serve in corte muore sul’ +pagliato</i>: “Who serves at court, dies on straw.” Wary cunning +in domestic life is perpetually impressed. An Italian +proverb, which is immortalised in our language, for it enters +into the history of Milton, was that by which the elegant +Wotton counselled the young poetic traveller to have—<i>Il +viso sciolto, ed i pensieri stretti</i>, “An open countenance, but +close thoughts.” In the same spirit, <i>Chi parla semina, chi +tace raccoglie</i>: “The talker sows, the silent reaps;” as well +as, <i>Fatti di miele, e ti mangieran le mosche</i>: “Make yourself +all honey, and the flies will devour you.” There are some +which display a deep knowledge of human nature: <i>A Lucca +ti vidi, à Pisa ti connobbi!</i> “I saw you at Lucca, I knew +you at Pisa!” <i>Guardati d’aceto di vin dolce</i>: “Beware of +vinegar made of sweet wine;” provoke not the rage of a +patient man!</p> + +<p>Among a people who had often witnessed their fine country +devastated by petty warfare, their notion of the military character +was not usually heroic. <i>Il soldato per far male è ben +pagato</i>: “The soldier is well paid for doing mischief.” +<i>Soldato, acqua, e fuoco, presto si fan luoco</i>: “A soldier, fire, +and water soon make room for themselves.” But in a +poetical people, endowed with great sensibility, their proverbs +would sometimes be tender and fanciful. They paint the +activity of friendship, <i>Chi ha l’amor nel petto, ha lo sprone +à i fianchi</i>: “Who feels love in the breast, feels a spur in his +limbs:” or its generous passion, <i>Gli amici legono la borsa +con un filo di ragnatelo</i>: “Friends tie their purse with a +cobweb’s thread.” They characterised the universal lover by +an elegant proverb—<i>Appicare il Maio ad ogn’ uscio</i>: “To +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page52" id="page52"></a>52</span> +hang every door with May;” alluding to the bough which +in the nights of May the country people are accustomed to +plant before the door of their mistress. If we turn to the +French, we discover that the military genius of France dictated +the proverb <i>Maille à maille se fait le haubergeon</i>: +“Link by link is made the coat of mail;” and, <i>Tel coup de +langue est pire qu’un coup de lance</i>; “The tongue strikes deeper +than the lance;” and <i>Ce qui vient du tambour s’en retourne +à la flute</i>; “What comes by the tabor goes back with the +pipe.” <i>Point d’argent point de Suisse</i> has become proverbial, +observes an Edinburgh Reviewer; a striking expression, +which, while French or Austrian gold predominated, was +justly used to characterise the illiberal and selfish policy of +the cantonal and federal governments of Switzerland, when it +began to degenerate from its moral patriotism. The ancient, +perhaps the extinct, spirit of Englishmen was once expressed +by our proverb, “Better be the head of a dog than the tail +of a lion;” <i>i.e.</i>, the first of the yeomanry rather than the +last of the gentry. A foreign philosopher might have discovered +our own ancient skill in archery among our proverbs; +for none but true toxophilites could have had such a proverb +as, “I will either make a shaft or a bolt of it!” signifying, +says the author of <i>Ivanhoe</i>, a determination to make one +use or other of the thing spoken of: the bolt was the arrow +peculiarly fitted to the cross-bow, as that of the long-bow +was called a shaft. These instances sufficiently demonstrate +that the characteristic circumstances and feelings of a people +are discovered in their popular notions, and stamped on their +familiar proverbs.</p> + +<p>It is also evident that the peculiar, and often idiomatic, +humour of a people is best preserved in their proverbs. +There is a shrewdness, although deficient in delicacy, in the +Scottish proverbs; they are idiomatic, facetious, and strike +home. Kelly, who has collected three thousand, informs us, +that, in 1725, the Scotch were a great proverbial nation; for +that few among the better sort will converse any considerable +time, but will confirm every assertion and observation +with a Scottish proverb. The speculative Scotch of our own +times have probably degenerated in prudential lore, and deem +themselves much wiser than their proverbs. They may reply +by a Scotch proverb on proverbs, made by a great man in +Scotland, who, having given a splendid entertainment, was +harshly told, that “Fools make feasts, and wise men eat +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page53" id="page53"></a>53</span> +them;” but he readily answered, “Wise men make proverbs, +and fools repeat them!”</p> + +<p>National humour, frequently local and idiomatical, depends +on the artificial habits of mankind, so opposite to each other; +but there is a natural vein, which the populace, always true +to nature, preserve, even among the gravest people. The +Arabian proverb, “The barber learns his art on the orphan’s +face;” the Chinese, “In a field of melons do not pull up +your shoe; under a plum-tree do not adjust your cap;”—to +impress caution in our conduct under circumstances of suspicion;—and +the Hebrew one, “He that hath had one of +his family hanged may not say to his neighbour, <i>hang</i> up this +fish!” are all instances of this sort of humour. The Spaniards +are a grave people, but no nation has equalled them in +their peculiar humour. The genius of Cervantes partook +largely of that of his country; that mantle of gravity, which +almost conceals its latent facetiousness, and with which he +has imbued his style and manner with such untranslatable +idiomatic raciness, may be traced to the proverbial erudition +of his nation. “To steal a sheep, and give away the trotters +for God’s sake!” is Cervantic nature! To one who is seeking +an opportunity to quarrel with another, their proverb +runs, <i>Si quieres dar palos a sur muger pidele al sol a bever</i>, +“Hast thou a mind to quarrel with thy wife, bid her bring +water to thee in the sunshine!”—a very fair quarrel may be +picked up about the motes in the clearest water! On the +judges in Gallicia, who, like our former justices of peace, “for +half a dozen chickens would dispense with a dozen of penal +statutes,” <i>A juezes Gallicianos, con los pies en las manos</i>: +“To the judges of Gallicia go with feet in hand;” a droll +allusion to a present of poultry, usually held by the legs. To +describe persons who live high without visible means, <i>Los +que cabritos venden, y cabras no tienen, de donde los vienen?</i> +“They that sell kids, and have no goats, how came they by +them?” <i>El vino no trae bragas</i>, “Wine wears no +breeches;” for men in wine expose their most secret +thoughts. <i>Vino di un oreja</i>, “Wine of one ear!” is good +wine; for at bad, shaking our heads, both our ears are +visible; but at good the Spaniard, by a natural gesticulation +lowering on one side, shows a single ear.</p> + +<p>Proverbs abounding in sarcastic humour, and found among +every people, are those which are pointed at rival countries. +Among ourselves, hardly has a county escaped from some popular +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page54" id="page54"></a>54</span> +quip; even neighbouring towns have their sarcasms, +usually pickled in some unlucky rhyme. The egotism of man +eagerly seizes on whatever serves to depreciate or to ridicule +his neighbour: nations proverb each other; counties flout +counties; obscure towns sharpen their wits on towns as obscure +as themselves—the same evil principle lurking in poor +human nature, if it cannot always assume predominance, will +meanly gratify itself by insult or contempt. They expose +some prevalent folly, or allude to some disgrace which the +natives have incurred. In France, the Burgundians have a +proverb, <i>Mieux vaut bon repas que bel habit</i>; “Better a good +dinner than a fine coat.” These good people are great gormandizers, +but shabby dressers; they are commonly said to +have “bowels of silk and velvet;” this is, all their silk and +velvet goes for their bowels! Thus Picardy is famous for +“hot heads;” and the Norman for <i>son dit et son dédit</i>, “his +saying and his unsaying!” In Italy the numerous rival +cities pelt one another with proverbs: <i>Chi ha a fare con +Tosco non convien esser losco</i>, “He who deals with a Tuscan +must not have his eyes shut.” <i>A Venetia chi vi nasce mal vi +si pasce</i>, “Whom Venice breeds, she poorly feeds.”</p> + +<p>There is another source of national characteristics, frequently +producing strange or whimsical combinations; a +people, from a very natural circumstance, have drawn their +proverbs from local objects, or from allusions to peculiar +customs. The influence of manners and customs over the +ideas and language of a people would form a subject of extensive +and curious research. There is a Japanese proverb, +that “A fog cannot be dispelled with a fan!” Had we not +known the origin of this proverb, it would be evident that it +could only have occurred to a people who had constantly +before them fogs and fans; and the fact appears that fogs are +frequent on the coast of Japan, and that from the age of +five years both sexes of the Japanese carry fans. The Spaniards +have an odd proverb to describe those who tease and +vex a person before they do him the very benefit which they +are about to confer—acting kindly, but speaking roughly; +<i>Mostrar primero la horca que le lugar</i>, “To show the gallows +before they show the town;” a circumstance alluding +to their small towns, which have a gallows placed on an +eminence, so that the gallows breaks on the eye of the traveller +before he gets a view of the town itself.</p> + +<p>The Cheshire proverb on marriage, “Better wed over the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page55" id="page55"></a>55</span> +mixon than over the moor,” that is, at home or in its vicinity; +mixon alludes to the dung, &c., in the farm-yard, while +the road from Chester to London is over the moorland in +Staffordshire: this local proverb is a curious instance of provincial +pride, perhaps of wisdom, to induce the gentry of +that county to form intermarriages; to prolong their own +ancient families, and perpetuate ancient friendships between +them.</p> + +<p>In the Isle of Man a proverbial expression forcibly indicates +the object constantly occupying the minds of the inhabitants. +The two Deemsters or judges, when appointed to +the chair of judgment, declare they will render justice between +man and man “as equally as the herring bone lies between +the two sides:” an image which could not have occurred +to any people unaccustomed to the herring-fishery. +There is a Cornish proverb, “Those who will not be ruled +by the rudder must be ruled by the rock”—the strands of +Cornwall, so often covered with wrecks, could not fail to impress +on the imaginations of its inhabitants the two objects +from whence they drew this salutary proverb against obstinate +wrongheads.</p> + +<p>When Scotland, in the last century, felt its allegiance to +England doubtful, and when the French sent an expedition +to the Land of Cakes, a local proverb was revived, to show the +identity of interests which affected both nations:</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>If Skiddaw hath a cap,</p> +<p>Scruffel wots full well of that.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">These are two high hills, one in Scotland and one in England; +so near, that what happens to the one will not be long +ere it reach the other. If a fog lodges on the one, it is sure +to rain on the other; the mutual sympathies of the two +countries were hence deduced in a copious dissertation, by +Oswald Dyke, on what was called “The Union-proverb,” +which <i>local proverbs</i> of our country Fuller has interspersed +in his “Worthies,” and Ray and Grose have collected separately.</p> + +<p>I was amused lately by a curious financial revelation which +I found in an opposition paper, where it appears that “Ministers +pretend to make their load of taxes more portable, by +shifting the burden, or altering the pressure, without, however, +diminishing the weight; according to the Italian proverb, +<i>Accommodare le bisaccie nella strada</i>, ‘To fit the load on +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page56" id="page56"></a>56</span> +the journey:’” it is taken from a custom of the mule-drivers, +who, placing their packages at first but awkwardly on +the backs of their poor beasts, and seeing them ready to sink, +cry out, “Never mind! we must fit them better on the +road!” I was gratified to discover, by the present and some +other modern instances, that the taste for proverbs was reviving, +and that we were returning to those sober times, +when the aptitude of a simple proverb would be preferred to +the verbosity of politicians, Tories, Whigs, or Radicals!</p> + +<p>There are domestic proverbs which originate in incidents +known only to the natives of their province. Italian literature +is particularly rich in these stores. The lively proverbial +taste of that vivacious people was transferred to their +own authors; and when these allusions were obscured by +time, learned Italians, in their zeal for their national literature, +and in their national love of story-telling, have written +grave commentaries even on ludicrous, but popular tales, in +which the proverbs are said to have originated. They resemble +the old facetious <i>contes</i>, whose simplicity and humour +still live in the pages of Boccaccio, and are not forgotten in +those of the Queen of Navarre.</p> + +<p>The Italians apply a proverb to a person who while he is +beaten, takes the blows quietly:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> +<p><i>Per beato ch’ elle non furon pesche!</i></p> +<p>Luckily they were not peaches!</p> +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">And to threaten to give a man—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> +<p><i>Una pesca in un occhio.</i></p> +<p>A peach in the eye,</p> +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">means to give him a thrashing. This proverb, it is said, +originated in the close of a certain droll adventure. The community +of the Castle Poggibonsi, probably from some jocular +tenure observed on St. Bernard’s day, pay a tribute of peaches +to the court of Tuscany, which are usually shared among the +ladies in waiting, and the pages of the court. It happened +one season, in a great scarcity of peaches, that the good people +of Poggibonsi, finding them rather dear, sent, instead of +the customary tribute, a quantity of fine juicy figs, which was +so much disapproved of by the pages, that as soon as they got +hold of them, they began in rage to empty the baskets on the +heads of the ambassadors of the Poggibonsi, who, in attempting +to fly as well as they could from the pulpy shower, half-blinded, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page57" id="page57"></a>57</span> +and recollecting that peaches would have had stones +in them, cried out—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> +<p><i>Per beato ch’ elle non furon pesche!</i></p> +<p>Luckily they were not peaches!</p> +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p><i>Fare le scalée di Sant’ Ambrogio</i>; “To mount the stairs of +Saint Ambrose,” a proverb allusive to the business of the +school of scandal. Varchi explains it by a circumstance so +common in provincial cities. On summer evenings, for fresh +air and gossip, the loungers met on the steps and landing-places +of the church of St. Ambrose: whoever left the party, +“they read in his book,” as our commentator expresses it; +and not a leaf was passed over! All liked to join a party so well +informed of one another’s concerns, and every one tried to be +the very last to quit it,—not “to leave his character behind!” +It became a proverbial phrase with those who left a company, +and were too tender of their backs, to request they would not +“mount the stairs of St. Ambrose.” Jonson has well described +such a company:</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>You are so truly fear’d, but not beloved</p> +<p>One of another, as no one dares break</p> +<p>Company from the rest, lest they should fall</p> +<p>Upon him absent.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>There are legends and histories which belong to proverbs; +and some of the most ancient refer to incidents which have +not always been commemorated. Two Greek proverbs have +accidentally been explained by Pausanias: “He is a man of +Tenedos!” to describe a person of unquestionable veracity; +and “To cut with the Tenedian axe;” to express an absolute +and irrevocable refusal. The first originated in a king of +Tenedos, who decreed that there should always stand behind +the judge a man holding an axe, ready to execute justice on +any one convicted of falsehood. The other arose from the +same king, whose father having reached his island, to supplicate +the son’s forgiveness for the injury inflicted on him by +the arts of a step-mother, was preparing to land; already the +ship was fastened by its cable to a rock; when the son came +down, and sternly cutting the cable with an axe, sent the ship +adrift to the mercy of the waves: hence, “to cut with the +Tenedian axe,” became proverbial to express an absolute +refusal. “Business to-morrow!” is another Greek proverb, +applied to a person ruined by his own neglect. The fate of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page58" id="page58"></a>58</span> +an eminent person perpetuated the expression which he +casually employed on the occasion. One of the Theban polemarchs, +in the midst of a convivial party, received despatches +relating to a conspiracy: flushed with wine, although pressed +by the courier to open them immediately, he smiled, and in +gaiety laying the letter under the pillow of his couch, +observed, “Business to-morrow!” Plutarch records that he fell +a victim to the twenty-four hours he had lost, and became the +author of a proverb which was still circulated among the Greeks.</p> + +<p>The philosophical antiquary may often discover how many +a proverb commemorates an event which has escaped from the +more solemn monuments of history, and is often the solitary +authority of its existence. A national event in Spanish history +is preserved by a proverb. <i>Y vengar quiniento sueldos</i>; +“And revenge five hundred pounds!” An odd expression to +denote a person being a gentleman! but the proverb is historical. +The Spaniards of Old Castile were compelled to pay +an annual tribute of five hundred maidens to their masters, +the Moors; after several battles, the Spaniards succeeded in +compromising the shameful tribute, by as many pieces of coin: +at length the day arrived when they entirely emancipated themselves +from this odious imposition. The heroic action was performed +by men of distinction, and the event perpetuated in the +recollections of the Spaniards by this singular expression, which +alludes to the dishonourable tribute, was applied to characterise +all men of high honour, and devoted lovers of their country.</p> + +<p>Pasquier, in his <i>Récherches sur la France</i>, reviewing the +periodical changes of ancient families in feudal times, +observes, that a proverb among the common people conveys +the result of all his inquiries; for those noble houses, which +in a single age declined from nobility and wealth to poverty +and meanness, gave rise to the proverb, <i>Cent ans bannières et +cent ans civières!</i> “One hundred years a banner and one +hundred years a barrow!” The Italian proverb, <i>Con l’Evangilio +si diventa heretico</i>, “With the gospel we become heretics,”—reflects +the policy of the court of Rome; and must +be dated at the time of the Reformation, when a translation +of the Scriptures into the vulgar tongue encountered such an +invincible opposition. The Scotch proverb, <i>He that invented +the maiden first hanselled it</i>; that is, got the first of it! +The maiden is that well-known beheading engine, revived by +the French surgeon Guillotine. This proverb may be applied +to one who falls a victim to his own ingenuity; the artificer +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page59" id="page59"></a>59</span> +of his own destruction! The inventor was James, Earl of +Morton, who for some years governed Scotland, and afterwards, +it is said, very unjustly suffered by his own invention. +It is a striking coincidence, that the same fate was shared by +the French reviver; both alike sad examples of disturbed +times! Among our own proverbs a remarkable incident has +been commemorated; <i>Hand over head, as the men took the +Covenant!</i> This preserves the manner in which the Scotch +covenant, so famous in our history, was violently taken by +above sixty thousand persons about Edinburgh, in 1638; a +circumstance at that time novel in our own revolutionary +history, and afterwards paralleled by the French in voting +by “acclamation.” An ancient English proverb preserves a +curious fact concerning our coinage. <i>Testers are gone to Oxford, +to study at Brazennose.</i> When Henry the Eighth +debased the silver coin, called <i>testers</i>, from their having a head +stamped on one side; the brass, breaking out in red pimples +on their silver faces, provoked the ill-humour of the people to +vent itself in this punning proverb, which has preserved for +the historical antiquary the popular feeling which lasted about +fifty years, till Elizabeth reformed the state of the coinage. +A northern proverb among us has preserved the remarkable +idea which seems to have once been prevalent, that the +metropolis of England was to be the city of York; <i>Lincoln +was, London is, York shall be!</i> Whether at the time of the +union of the crowns, under James the First, when England +and Scotland became Great Britain, this city, from its centrical +situation, was considered as the best adapted for the seat of +government, or for some other cause which I have not discovered, +this notion must have been prevalent to have entered +into a proverb. The chief magistrate of York is the only +provincial one who is allowed the title of Lord Mayor; a circumstance +which seems connected with this proverb.</p> + +<p>The Italian history of its own small principalities, whose +well-being so much depended on their prudence and sagacity, +affords many instances of the timely use of a proverb. Many +an intricate negotiation has been contracted through a good-humoured +proverb,—many a sarcastic one has silenced an +adversary; and sometimes they have been applied on more +solemn, and even tragical occasions. When Rinaldo degli +Albizzi was banished by the vigorous conduct of Cosmo de’ +Medici, Machiavel tells us the expelled man sent Cosmo a +menace, in a proverb, <i>La gallina covava!</i> “The hen is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page60" id="page60"></a>60</span> +brooding!” said of one meditating vengeance. The undaunted +Cosmo replied by another, that “There was no +brooding out of the nest!”</p> + +<p>I give an example of peculiar interest; for it is perpetuated +by Dante, and is connected with the character of Milton.</p> + +<p>When the families of the Amadei and the Uberti felt their +honour wounded in the affront the younger Buondelmonte +had put upon them, in breaking off his match with a young +lady of their family, by marrying another, a council was held, +and the death of the young cavalier was proposed as the sole +atonement for their injured honour. But the consequences +which they anticipated, and which afterwards proved so fatal +to the Florentines, long suspended their decision. At length +Moscha Lamberti suddenly rising, exclaimed, in two proverbs, +“That those who considered everything would never +conclude on anything!” closing with an ancient proverbial +saying—<i>cosa fatta capo ha!</i> “a deed done has an end!” The +proverb sealed the fatal determination, and was long held in +mournful remembrance by the Tuscans; for, according to +Villani, it was the cause and beginning of the accursed +factions of the Guelphs and the Ghibellines. Dante has thus +immortalised the energetic expression in a scene of the +“Inferno.”</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Ed un, ch’ avea l’una e l’altra man mozza,</p> +<p>Levando i moncherin per l’aura fosca,</p> +<p>Si che ’l sangue facea la faccia sozza,</p> +<p>Gridò:—“Ricorderati anche del Mosca,</p> +<p>Che dissi, lasso: <i>Capo ha cosa fatta</i>,</p> +<p>Che fu ’l mal seme della gente Tosca.”</p> + + <p class="i10 s">———Then one</p> +<p>Maim’d of each hand, uplifted in the gloom</p> +<p>The bleeding stumps, that they with gory spots</p> +<p>Sullied his face, and cried—“Remember thee</p> +<p>Of Mosca too—I who, alas! exclaim’d</p> +<p>‘The deed once done, there is an end’—that proved</p> +<p>A seed of sorrow to the Tuscan race.”</p> + +<p class="i14"><span class="sc">Cary’s</span> <i>Dante</i>.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">This Italian proverb was adopted by Milton; for when deeply +engaged in writing “The Defence of the People,” and +warned that it might terminate in his blindness, he resolvedly +concluded his work, exclaiming with great magnanimity, +although the fatal prognostication had been accomplished, +<i>cosa fatta capo ha!</i> Did this proverb also influence his awful +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page61" id="page61"></a>61</span> +decision on that great national event, when the most honest-minded +fluctuated between doubts and fears?</p> + +<p>Of a person treacherously used, the Italian proverb says +that he has eaten of</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> +<p><i>Le frutte di fratre Alberigo.</i></p> +<p>The fruit of brother Alberigo.</p> +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">Landino, on the following passage of Dante, preserves the +tragic story:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>———Io son fratre Alberigo,</p> +<p>Io son quel dalle frutta del mal orto</p> +<p>Che qui reprendo, &c.</p> + +<p class="i9">Canto xxxiii.</p> + +<p class="s">“The friar Alberigo,” answered he,</p> +<p>“Am I, who from the evil garden pluck’d</p> +<p>Its fruitage, and am here repaid the date</p> +<p>More luscious for my fig.”</p> + +<p class="i12"><span class="sc">Cary’s</span> <i>Dante</i>.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">This was Manfred, the Lord of Fuenza, who, after many +cruelties, turned friar. Reconciling himself to those whom +he had so often opposed, to celebrate the renewal of their +friendship he invited them to a magnificent entertainment. +At the end of the dinner the horn blew to announce the +dessert—but it was the signal of this dissimulating conspirator!—and +the fruits which that day were served to his +guests were armed men, who, rushing in, immolated their +victims.</p> + +<p>Among these historical proverbs none are more entertaining +than those which perpetuate national events, connected with +those of another people. When a Frenchman would let us +understand that he has settled with his creditors, the proverb +is <i>J’ai payé tous mes Anglois</i>: “I have paid all my English.” +This proverb originated when John, the French king, was +taken prisoner by our Black Prince. Levies of money were +made for the king’s ransom, and for many French lords; and +the French people have thus perpetuated the military glory +of our nation, and their own idea of it, by making the +<i>English</i> and their <i>creditors</i> synonymous terms. Another +relates to the same event—<i>Le Pape est devenu François, et +Jesus Christ Anglais</i>: “Now the Pope is become French and +Jesus Christ English;” a proverb which arose when the Pope, +exiled from Rome, held his court at Avignon in France; and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page62" id="page62"></a>62</span> +the English prospered so well, that they possessed more than +half the kingdom. The Spanish proverb concerning England +is well known—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> +<p><i>Con todo el mondo guerra,</i></p> +<p><i>Y paz con Inglaterra!</i></p> + +<p class="s">War with the world,</p> +<p>And peace with England!</p> +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">Whether this proverb was one of the results of their +memorable armada, and was only coined after their conviction +of the splendid folly which they had committed, I cannot +ascertain. England must always have been a desirable ally +to Spain against her potent rival and neighbour. The +Italians have a proverb, which formerly, at least, was +strongly indicative of the travelled Englishmen in their +country, <i>Inglese Italianato è un diavolo incarnato</i>; “The +Italianised Englishman is a devil incarnate.” Formerly +there existed a closer intercourse between our country and +Italy than with France. Before and during the reigns of +Elizabeth and James the First that land of the elegant arts +modelled our taste and manners: and more Italians travelled +into England, and were more constant residents, from commercial +concerns, than afterwards when France assumed a +higher rank in Europe by her political superiority. This +cause will sufficiently account for the number of Italian +proverbs relating to England, which show an intimacy with +our manners that could not else have occurred. It was +probably some sarcastic Italian, and, perhaps, horologer, who, +to describe the disagreement of persons, proverbed our nation—“They +agree like the clocks of London!” We were once +better famed for merry Christmases and their pies; and it +must have been the Italians who had been domiciliated with +us who gave currency to the proverb—<i>Ha piu da fare che i +forni di natale in Inghilterra</i>: “He has more business than +English ovens at Christmas.” Our pie-loving gentry were +notorious, and Shakspeare’s folio was usually laid open in the +great halls of our nobility to entertain their attendants, who +devoured at once Shakspeare and their pasty. Some of those +volumes have come down to us, not only with the stains, +but inclosing even the identical piecrusts of the Elizabethan +age.</p> + +<p>I have thus attempted to develope <span class="sc">the art of reading +proverbs</span>; but have done little more than indicate the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page63" id="page63"></a>63</span> +theory, and must leave the skilful student to the delicacy of +the practice. I am anxious to rescue from prevailing prejudices +these neglected stores of curious amusement, and of +deep insight into the ways of man, and to point out the bold +and concealed truths which are scattered in these collections. +There seems to be no occurrence in human affairs to which +some proverb may not be applied. All knowledge was long +aphoristical and traditional, pithily contracting the discoveries +which were to be instantly comprehended and easily +retained. Whatever be the revolutionary state of man, +similar principles and like occurrences are returning on us; +and antiquity, whenever it is justly applicable to our times, +loses its denomination, and becomes the truth of our own age. +A proverb will often cut the knot which others in vain are +attempting to untie. Johnson, palled with the redundant +elegancies of modern composition, once said, “I fancy +mankind may come in time to write all aphoristically, except +in narrative; grow weary of preparation, and connexion, and +illustration, and all those arts by which a big book is made.” +Many a volume indeed has often been written to demonstrate +what a lover of proverbs could show had long been ascertained +by a single one in his favourite collections.</p> + +<p>An insurmountable difficulty, which every paræmiographer +has encountered, is that of forming an apt, a ready, and a +systematic classification: the moral Linnæus of such a +“systema naturæ” has not yet appeared. Each discovered +his predecessor’s mode imperfect, but each was doomed to +meet the same fate.<a name="FnAnchor_40" id="FnAnchor_40" href="#Footnote_40"><span class="sp">40</span></a> The arrangement of proverbs has +baffled the ingenuity of every one of their collectors. Our +Ray, after long premeditation, has chosen a system with the +appearance of an alphabetical order; but, as it turns out, his +system is no system, and his alphabet is no alphabet. After +ten years’ labour, the good man could only arrange his +proverbs by commonplaces—by complete sentences—by +phrases or forms of speech—by proverbial similes—and so on. +All these are pursued in alphabetical order, “by the first +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page64" id="page64"></a>64</span> +letter of the most ‘material word,’ or if there be more words +‘<i>equally material</i>,’ by that which usually stands foremost.” +The most patient examiner will usually find that he wants +the sagacity of the collector to discover that word which is +“the most material,” or, “the words equally material.” We +have to search through all that multiplicity of divisions, or +conjuring boxes, in which this juggler of proverbs pretends to +hide the ball.<a name="FnAnchor_41" id="FnAnchor_41" href="#Footnote_41"><span class="sp">41</span></a></p> + +<p>A still more formidable objection against a collection of +proverbs, for the impatient reader, is their unreadableness. +Taking in succession a multitude of insulated proverbs, their +slippery nature resists all hope of retaining one in a hundred; +the study of proverbs must be a frequent recurrence to a +gradual collection of favourite ones, which we ourselves must +form. The experience of life will throw a perpetual freshness +over these short and simple texts; every day may furnish a +new commentary; and we may grow old, and find novelty in +proverbs by their perpetual application.</p> + +<p>There are, perhaps, about twenty thousand proverbs among +the nations of Europe: many of these have spread in their +common intercourse; many are borrowed from the ancients, +chiefly the Greeks, who themselves largely took them from +the eastern nations. Our own proverbs are too often deficient +in that elegance and ingenuity which are often found +in the Spanish and the Italian. Proverbs frequently enliven +conversation, or enter into the business of life in those countries, +without any feeling of vulgarity being associated with +them: they are too numerous, too witty, and too wise to cease +to please by their poignancy and their aptitude. I have heard +them fall from the lips of men of letters and of statesmen. +When recently the disorderly state of the manufacturers of +Manchester menaced an insurrection, a profound Italian politician +observed to me, that it was not of a nature to alarm a +great nation; for that the remedy was at hand, in the proverb +of the Lazzaroni of Naples, <i>Metà consiglio, metà esempio, +metà denaro!</i> “Half advice, half example, half money!” +The result confirmed the truth of the proverb, which, had it +been known at the time, might have quieted the honest fears +of a great part of the nation.</p> + +<p>Proverbs have ceased to be studied or employed in conversation +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page65" id="page65"></a>65</span> +since the time we have derived our knowledge from +books; but in a philosophical age they appear to offer infinite +subjects for speculative curiosity. Originating in various +eras, these memorials of manners, of events, and of modes of +thinking, for historical as well as for moral purposes, still retain +a strong hold on our attention. The collected knowledge +of successive ages, and of different people, must always +enter into some part of our own! Truth and nature can +never be obsolete.</p> + +<p>Proverbs embrace the wide sphere of human existence, they +take all the colours of life, they are often exquisite strokes of +genius, they delight by their airy sarcasm or their caustic +satire, the luxuriance of their humour, the playfulness of their +turn, and even by the elegance of their imagery, and the tenderness +of their sentiment. They give a deep insight into +domestic life, and open for us the heart of man, in all the +various states which he may occupy—a frequent review of +proverbs should enter into our readings; and although they +are no longer the ornaments of conversation, they have not +ceased to be the treasuries of Thought!</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_29" id="Footnote_29" href="#FnAnchor_29"><span class="fn">29</span></a> Taylor’s Translation of Plato’s works, vol v. p. 36.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_30" id="Footnote_30" href="#FnAnchor_30"><span class="fn">30</span></a> Shakspeare satirically alludes to the quality of such rhymes in his +<i>Merchant of Venice</i>, Act v. Sc. 1. Speaking of one</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr" style="font-size: 100%;"> + + <p class="i5">“—— whose poesy was</p> +<p>For all the world like cutler’s poetry</p> +<p>Upon a knife, <i>Love me, and leave me not</i>.”</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p><a name="Footnote_31" id="Footnote_31" href="#FnAnchor_31"><span class="fn">31</span></a> One of the <i>fruit trenchers</i>, for such these roundels are called in the +<i>Gent. Mag.</i> for 1798, p. 398, is engraved there, and the inscriptions of +an entire set given.—See also the Supplement to that volume, p. 1187. +The author of the “Art of English Poesie,” 1589, tells us they never +contained above one verse, or two at the most, but the shorter the +better. Two specimens may suffice the reader. One, under the symbol +of a skull, thus morally discourses:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr" style="font-size: 100%;"> + +<p>“Content thyself with thine estate,</p> +<p class="i05">And send no poor wight from thy gate;</p> +<p class="i05">For why, this counsel I you give,</p> +<p class="i05">To learne to die, and die to live.”</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>On another, decorated with pictures of fruit, are these satirical lines:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr" style="font-size: 100%;"> + +<p>“Feed and be fat: hear’s pears and plums,</p> +<p class="i05">Will never hurt your teeth or spoil your gums.</p> +<p class="i05">And I wish those girls that painted are,</p> +<p class="i05">No other food than such fine painted fare.”</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p><a name="Footnote_32" id="Footnote_32" href="#FnAnchor_32"><span class="fn">32</span></a> This constant custom of engraving “posies,” as they were termed, on +rings, is noted by many authors of the Elizabethan era. Lilly, in his +“Euphues,” addresses the ladies for a favourable judgment on his work, +hoping it will be recorded “as you do the posies in your rings, which are +always next to the finger not to be seene of him that holdeth you by the +hand, and yet knowne by you that weare them on your hands.” They were +always engraved withinside of the ring. A MS. of the time of Charles I. +furnishes us with a single posy, of one line, to this effect—“This hath +alloy; my love is pure.” From the same source we have the two following +rhyming, or “double posies”—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr" style="font-size: 100%;"> + +<p>“Constancy and heaven are round,</p> +<p class="i05">And in this the emblem’s found.”</p> +<p>“Weare me out, love shall not waste;</p> +<p class="i05">Love beyond tyme still is placed.”</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p><a name="Footnote_33" id="Footnote_33" href="#FnAnchor_33"><span class="fn">33</span></a> Heywood’s “Dialogue, conteyninge the Number in Effecte of all the +Proverbes in the English Tunge, 1561.” There are more editions of this +little volume than Warton has noticed. There is some humour in his +narrative, but his metre and his ribaldry are heavy taxes on our curiosity.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_34" id="Footnote_34" href="#FnAnchor_34"><span class="fn">34</span></a> The whole of Tusser’s “Five Hundred Pointes of Good Husbandrie,” +1580, was composed in quaint couplets, long remembered by the peasantry +for their homely worldly wisdom. One, constructed for the bakehouse, runs +thus:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr" style="font-size: 100%;"> +<p>“New bread is a drivell (waste);</p> +<p class="i05">Much crust is as evil.”</p> +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Another for the dairymaid assures her—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr" style="font-size: 100%;"> +<p>“Good dairie doth pleasure;</p> +<p class="i05">Ill dairie spends treasure.”</p> +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Another might rival any lesson of thrift:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr" style="font-size: 100%;"> +<p>“Where nothing will last,</p> +<p class="i05">Spare such as thou hast.”</p> +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p><a name="Footnote_35" id="Footnote_35" href="#FnAnchor_35"><span class="fn">35</span></a> Townshend’s Historical Collections, p. 283.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_36" id="Footnote_36" href="#FnAnchor_36"><span class="fn">36</span></a> It was published in 1616: the writer only catches at some verbal expressions—as, +for instance:—</p> + +<p>The vulgar proverb runs, “The more the merrier.”</p> + +<p>The cross,—“Not so! one hand is enough in a purse.”</p> + +<p>The proverb, “It is a great way to the bottom of the sea.”</p> + +<p>The cross,—“Not so! it is but a stone’s cast.”</p> + +<p>The proverb, “The pride of the rich makes the labours of the poor.”</p> + +<p>The cross,—“Not so! the labours of the poor make the pride of the rich.”</p> + +<p>The proverb, “He runs far who never turns.”</p> + +<p>The cross,—“Not so! he may break his neck in a short course.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_37" id="Footnote_37" href="#FnAnchor_37"><span class="fn">37</span></a> It has been suggested that this whimsical amusement has been lately +revived, to a certain degree, in the <i>acting of charades</i> among juvenile +parties.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_38" id="Footnote_38" href="#FnAnchor_38"><span class="fn">38</span></a> Now the punning motto of a noble family.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_39" id="Footnote_39" href="#FnAnchor_39"><span class="fn">39</span></a> At the <span class="sc">Royal institution</span> there is a fine copy of Polydore Vergil’s +“Adagia,” with his other work, curious in its day, <i>De Inventoribus +Rerum</i>, printed by Frobenius, in 1521. The <i>wood-cuts</i> of this edition +seem to me to be executed with inimitable delicacy, resembling a pencilling +which Raphael might have envied.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_40" id="Footnote_40" href="#FnAnchor_40"><span class="fn">40</span></a> Since the appearance of the present article, several collections of +<span class="sc">Proverbs</span> have been attempted. A little unpretending volume, entitled +“Select Proverbs of all Nations, with <i>Notes</i> and <i>Comments</i>, by Thomas +Fielding, 1824,” is not ill arranged; an excellent book for popular reading. +The editor of a recent miscellaneous compilation, “The Treasury of Knowledge,” +has whimsically bordered the four sides of the pages of a Dictionary +with as many proverbs. The plan was ingenious, but the proverbs are +not. Triteness and triviality are fatal to a proverb.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_41" id="Footnote_41" href="#FnAnchor_41"><span class="fn">41</span></a> A new edition of Ray’s book, with large additions, was published by +Bohn, in 1855, under the title of “A Handbook of Proverbs.” It is a +vast collection of “wise saws” of all ages and countries.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>CONFUSION OF WORDS.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">“There</span> is nothing more common,” says the lively Voltaire, +“than to read and to converse to no purpose. In history, in +morals, in law, in physic, and in divinity, be careful of equivocal +terms.” One of the ancients wrote a book to prove +that there was no word which did not convey an ambiguous +and uncertain meaning. If we possessed this lost book, our +ingenious dictionaries of “synonyms” would not probably +prove its uselessness. Whenever <i>the same word</i> is associated +by the parties with <i>different ideas</i>, they may converse, or +controverse, till “the crack of doom!” This with a little +obstinacy and some agility in shifting his ground, makes the +fortune of an opponent. While one party is worried in disentangling +a meaning, and the other is winding and unwinding +about him with another, a word of the kind we have +mentioned, carelessly or perversely slipped into an argument, +may prolong it for a century or two—as it has happened! +Vaugelas, who passed his whole life in the study of words, +would not allow that the <i>sense</i> was to determine the meaning +of <i>words</i>; for, says he, it is the business of <i>words</i> to explain +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page66" id="page66"></a>66</span> +the <i>sense</i>. Kant for a long while discovered in this way a +facility of arguing without end, as at this moment do our +political economists. “I beseech you,” exclaims a poetical +critic, in the agony of a confusion of words, on the Pope controversy, +“not to ask whether I mean <i>this</i> or <i>that</i>!” Our +critic, positive that he has made himself understood, has +shown how a few vague terms may admit of volumes of vindication. +Throw out a word, capable of fifty senses, and you +raise fifty parties! Should some friend of peace enable the +fifty to repose on one sense, that innocent word, no longer +ringing the <i>tocsin</i> of a party, would lie in forgetfulness in the +Dictionary. Still more provoking when an identity of meaning +is only disguised by different modes of expression, and +when the term has been closely sifted, to their mutual +astonishment both parties discover the same thing lying +under the bran and chaff after this heated operation. Plato +and Aristotle probably agreed much better than the opposite +parties they raised up imagined; their difference was in the +manner of expression, rather than in the points discussed. +The Nominalists and the Realists, who once filled the world +with their brawls, and who from irregular words came to +regular blows, could never comprehend their alternate nonsense; +“whether in employing general terms we use <i>words</i> +or <i>names</i> only, or whether there is <i>in nature anything</i> corresponding +to what we mean by a <i>general idea</i>?” The Nominalists +only denied what no one in his senses would affirm; +and the Realists only contended for what no one in his senses +would deny; a hair’s breadth might have joined what the +spirit of party had sundered!</p> + +<p>Do we flatter ourselves that the Logomachies of the Nominalists +and the Realists terminated with these scolding +schoolmen? Modern nonsense, weighed against the obsolete, +may make the scales tremble for awhile, but it will lose its +agreeable quality of freshness, and subside into an equipoise. +We find their spirit still lurking among our own metaphysicians! +<span class="correction" title="added missing quotes">“Lo!</span> the Nominalists and the Realists again!” exclaimed +my learned friend, Sharon Turner, alluding to our +modern doctrines on <i>abstract ideas</i>, on which there is still a +doubt whether they are anything more than <i>generalising +terms</i>.<a name="FnAnchor_42" id="FnAnchor_42" href="#Footnote_42"><span class="sp">42</span></a> Leibnitz confused his philosophy by the term <i>sufficient +reason</i>: for every existence, for every event, and for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page67" id="page67"></a>67</span> +every truth there must be a <i>sufficient reason</i>. This vagueness +of language produced a perpetual misconception, and +Leibnitz was proud of his equivocal triumphs in always +affording a new interpretation! It is conjectured that he +only employed his term of <i>sufficient reason</i> for the plain +simple word of <i>cause</i>. Even Locke, who has himself so admirably +noticed the “abuse of words,” has been charged with +using vague and indefinite ones; he has sometimes employed +the words <i>reflection</i>, <i>mind</i>, and <i>spirit</i> in so indefinite a way, +that they have confused his philosophy: thus by some ambiguous +expressions, our great metaphysician has been made to +establish doctrines fatal to the immutability of moral distinctions. +Even the eagle-eye of the intellectual Newton grew +dim in the obscurity of the language of Locke. We are +astonished to discover that two such intellects should not +comprehend the same ideas; for Newton wrote to Locke, “I +beg your pardon for representing that you struck at the root +of morality in a principle laid down in your book of Ideas—and +that I took you for a Hobbist!”<a name="FnAnchor_43" id="FnAnchor_43" href="#Footnote_43"><span class="sp">43</span></a> The difference of +opinion between Locke and Reid is in consequence of an ambiguity +in the word <i>principle</i>, as employed by Reid. The +removal of a solitary word may cast a luminous ray over a +whole body of philosophy: “If we had called the <i>infinite</i> the +<i>indefinite</i>,” says Condillac, in his <i>Traité des Sensations</i>, “by +this small change of a word we should have avoided the error +of imagining that we have a positive idea of <i>infinity</i>, from +whence so many false reasonings have been carried on, not +only by metaphysicians, but even by geometricians.” The +word <i>reason</i> has been used with different meanings by different +writers; <i>reasoning</i> and <i>reason</i> have been often confounded; +a man may have an endless capacity for <i>reasoning</i>, +without being much influenced by <i>reason</i>, and to be <i>reasonable</i>, +perhaps differs from both! So Moliere tells us,</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Raisonner est l’emploi de toute ma maison;</p> +<p>Et le raisonnement en bannit la raison!</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>In this research on “confusion of words,” might enter the +voluminous history of the founders of sects, who have usually +employed terms which had no meaning attached to them, or +were so ambiguous that their real notions have never been +comprehended; hence the most chimerical opinions have been +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page68" id="page68"></a>68</span> +imputed to founders of sects. We may instance that of the +<i>Antinomians</i>, whose remarkable denomination explains their +doctrine, expressing that they were “against law!” Their +founder was John Agricola, a follower of Luther, who, while +he lived, had kept Agricola’s follies from exploding, which +they did when he asserted that there was no such thing as +sin, our salvation depending on faith, and not on works; and +when he declaimed against the <i>Law of God</i>. To what length +some of his sect pushed this verbal doctrine is known; but +the real notions of this Agricola probably never will be! +Bayle considered him as a harmless dreamer in theology, who +had confused his head by Paul’s controversies with the Jews; +but Mosheim, who bestows on this early reformer the epithets +of <i>ventosus</i> and <i>versipellis</i>, windy and crafty! +or, as his translator has it, charges him with “vanity, presumption, +and artifice,” tells us by the term “law,” Agricola only meant +the ten commandments of Moses, which he considered were +abrogated by the Gospel, being designed for the Jews and +not for the Christians. Agricola then, by the words the +“Law of God,” and “that there was no such thing as sin,” +must have said one thing and meant another! This appears +to have been the case with most of the divines of the sixteenth +century; for even Mosheim complains of “their want +of precision and consistency in expressing <i>their sentiments</i>, +hence their real sentiments have been misunderstood.” There +evidently prevailed a great “confusion of words” among +them! The <i>grace suffisante</i> and the <i>grace efficace</i> of the +Jansenists and the Jesuits show the shifts and stratagems by +which nonsense may be dignified. “Whether all men received +from God <i>sufficient grace</i> for their conversion!” was an inquiry +some unhappy metaphysical theologist set afloat: the +Jesuits, according to their worldly system of making men’s +consciences easy, affirmed it; but the Jansenists insisted, +that this <i>sufficient grace</i> would never be <i>efficacious</i>, unless +accompanied by <i>special grace</i>. “Then the <i>sufficient grace</i>, +which is not <i>efficacious</i>, is a contradiction in terms, and +worse, a heresy!” triumphantly cried the Jesuits, exulting +over their adversaries. This “confusion of words” thickened, +till the Jesuits introduced in this logomachy with the Jansenists +papal bulls, royal edicts, and a regiment of dragoons! +The Jansenists, in despair, appealed to miracles and prodigies, +which they got up for public representation; but, above all, +to their Pascal, whose immortal satire the Jesuits really felt +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page69" id="page69"></a>69</span> +was at once “sufficient and efficacious,” though the dragoons, +in settling a “confusion of words,” did not boast of inferior +success to Pascal’s. Former ages had, indeed, witnessed +even a more melancholy logomachy, in the <i>Homoousion</i> and +the <i>Homoiousion</i>! An event which Boileau has immortalised +by some fine verses, which, in his famous satire on <i>L’Equivoque</i>, +for reasons best known to the Sorbonne, were struck +out of the text.</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>D’une <i>syllabe</i> impie un saint <i>mot</i> augmenté</p> +<p>Remplit tous les esprits d’aigreurs si meurtrières—</p> +<p>Tu fis, dans une guerre et si triste et si longue,</p> +<p>Périr tant de Chrétiens, <i>martyrs d’une diphthongue</i>!</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Whether the Son was similar to the substance of the +Father, or of the same substance, depended on the diphthong +<i>oi,</i> which was alternately rejected and received. Had they +earlier discovered, what at length they agreed on, that the +words denoted what was incomprehensible, it would have +saved thousands, as a witness describes, “from tearing one +another to pieces.” The great controversy between Abelard +and St. Bernard, when the saint accused the scholastic of +maintaining heretical notions of the Trinity, long agitated +the world; yet, now that these confusers of words can no +longer inflame our passions, we wonder how these parties +could themselves differ about words to which we can attach +no meaning whatever. There have been few councils or +synods where the omission or addition of a word or a phrase +might not have terminated an interminable logomachy! At +the council of Basle, for the convenience of the disputants, +John de Secubia drew up a treatise of <i>undeclined words</i>, +chiefly to determine the signification of the particles <i>from</i>, +<i>by</i>, <i>but</i>, and <i>except</i>, which it seems were perpetually occasioning +fresh disputes among the Hussites and the Bohemians. +Had Jerome of Prague known, like our Shakspeare, the virtue +of an <span class="sc">if</span>, or agreed with Hobbes, that he should not have +been so positive in the use of the verb <span class="sc">is</span>, he might have +been spared from the flames. The philosopher of Malmsbury +has declared that “Perhaps <i>Judgment</i> was nothing else but +the composition or joining of <i>two names of things, or modes</i>, +by the verb <span class="sc">is</span>.” In modern times the popes have more +skilfully freed the church from this “confusion of words.” +His holiness, on one occasion, standing in equal terror of the +court of France, who protected the Jesuits, and of the court +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page70" id="page70"></a>70</span> +of Spain, who maintained the cause of the Dominicans, contrived +a phrase, where a comma or a full stop, placed at the +beginning or the end, purported that his holiness tolerated +the opinions which he condemned; and when the rival parties +despatched deputations to the court of Rome to plead for the +period, or advocate the comma, his holiness, in this “confusion +of words,” flung an unpunctuated copy to the parties; +nor was it his fault, but that of the spirit of party, if the +rage of the one could not subside into a comma, nor that of +the other close by a full period!</p> + +<p>In jurisprudence much confusion has occurred in the uses +of the term <i>rights</i>; yet the social union and human happiness +are involved in the precision of the expression. When Montesquieu +laid down, as the active principle of a republic, +<i>virtue</i>, it seemed to infer that a republic was the best of +governments. In the defence of his great work he was +obliged to define the term; and it seems that by <i>virtue</i> he +only meant <i>political virtue</i>, the love of the country.</p> + +<p>In politics, what evils have resulted from abstract terms to +which no ideas are affixed,—such as, “The Equality of Man—the +Sovereignty or the Majesty of the People—Loyalty—Reform—even +Liberty herself!—Public Opinion—Public +Interest;” and other abstract notions, which have excited +the hatred or the ridicule of the vulgar. Abstract ideas, as +<i>sounds</i>, have been used as watchwords. The combatants will +usually be found willing to fight for words to which, perhaps, +not one of them has attached any settled signification. This +is admirably touched on by Locke, in his chapter of “Abuse +of Words.” “Wisdom, Glory, Grace, &c., are words frequent +enough in every man’s mouth; but if a great many of those +who use them should be asked what they mean by them, +they would be at a stand, and know not what to answer—a +plain proof that though they have learned those <i>sounds</i>, and +have them ready at their tongue’s end, yet there are no determined +<i>ideas</i> laid up in their minds which are to be expressed +to others by them.”</p> + +<p>When the American exclaimed that he was not represented +in the House of Commons, because he was not an elector, he +was told that a very small part of the people of England were +electors. As they could not call this an <i>actual representation</i>, +they invented a new name for it, and called it a <i>virtual one</i>. +It imposed on the English nation, who could not object that +others should be taxed rather than themselves; but with the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page71" id="page71"></a>71</span> +Americans it was a sophism! and this <i>virtual</i> representation, +instead of an <i>actual</i> one, terminated in our separation; +“which,” says Mr. Flood, “at the time appeared to have +swept away most of our glory and our territory; forty thousand +lives, and one hundred millions of treasure!”</p> + +<p>That fatal expression which Rousseau had introduced, +<i>l’Egalité des Hommes</i>, which finally involved the happiness +of a whole people, had he lived he had probably shown how +ill his country had understood. He could only have referred +in his mind to <i>political equality</i>, but not an equality of possessions, +of property, of authority, destructive of social order +and of moral duties, which must exist among every people. +“Liberty,” “Equality,” and “Reform” (innocent words!) +sadly ferment the brains of those who cannot affix any definite +notions to them; they are like those chimerical fictions in +law, which declare the “sovereign immortal, proclaim his +ubiquity in various places,” and irritate the feelings of the +populace, by assuming that “the king can never do wrong!” +In the time of James the Second “it is curious,” says Lord +Russell, “to read the conference between the Houses on the +meaning of the words ‘deserted’ and ‘abdicated,’ and the +debates in the Lords whether or no there is an original contract +between king and people.” The people would necessarily +decide that “kings derived their power from them;” +but kings were once maintained by a “right divine,” a +“confusion of words,” derived from two opposite theories, +and both only relatively true. When we listen so frequently +to such abstract terms as “the majesty of the people,” “the +sovereignty of the people,” whence the inference that “all +power is derived from the people,” we can form no definite +notions: it is “a confusion of words,” contradicting all the +political experience which our studies or our observations +furnish; for sovereignty is established to rule, to conduct, +and to settle the vacillations and quick passions of the multitude. +<i>Public opinion</i> expresses too often the ideas of one +party in place; and <i>public interest</i> those of another party +out! Political axioms, from the circumstance of having the +notions attached to them unsettled, are applied to the most +opposite ends! “In the time of the French Directory,” +observes an Italian philosopher of profound views, “in the +revolution of Naples, the democratic faction pronounced that +‘Every act of a tyrannical government is in its origin illegal;’ +a proposition which at first sight seems self-evident, but which +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page72" id="page72"></a>72</span> +went to render all existing laws impracticable.” The doctrine +of the illegality of the acts of a tyrant was proclaimed by +Brutus and Cicero, in the name of the senate, <i>against the +populace</i>, who had favoured Cæsar’s perpetual dictatorship; +and the populace of Paris availed themselves of it, <i>against the +National Assembly</i>.</p> + +<p>This “confusion of words,” in time-serving politics, has too +often confounded right and wrong; and artful men, driven +into a corner, and intent only on its possession, have found +no difficulty in solving doubts, and reconciling contradictions. +Our own history in revolutionary times abounds with dangerous +examples from all parties; of specious hypotheses for +compliance with the government of the day or the passions +of parliament. Here is an instance in which the subtle confuser +of words pretended to substitute two consciences, by +utterly depriving a man of any! When the unhappy Charles +the First pleaded that to pass the bill of attainder against +the Earl of Strafford was against his conscience, that remarkable +character of “boldness and impiety,” as Clarendon characterizes +Williams, Archbishop of York, on this argument of +<i>conscience</i> (a simple word enough), demonstrated “that there +were <i>two sorts of conscience</i>, public and private; that his +public conscience as a king might dispense with his private +conscience as a man!” Such was the ignominious argument +which decided the fate of that great victim of State! It was +an impudent “confusion of words” when Prynne (in order to +quiet the consciences of those who were uneasy at warring +with the king) observed that the statute of twenty-fifth +Edward the Third ran in the singular number—“If a man +shall levy war against <i>the king</i>, and therefore could not be +extended to <i>the houses</i>, who are many and public <i>persons</i>.” +Later, we find Sherlock blest with the spirit of Williams, the +Archbishop of York, whom we have just left. When some +did not know how to charge and to discharge themselves of +the oaths to James the Second and to William the Third, this +confounder of words discovered that there were <i>two rights</i>, as +the other had that there were <i>two consciences</i>; one was a +providential right, and the other a legal right; one person +might very righteously claim and take a thing, and another +as righteously hold and keep it; but that <i>whoever got the +better</i> had the <i>providential</i> right by possession; and since all +authority comes from God, the people were obliged to transfer +their allegiance to him as a king of God’s making; so that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page73" id="page73"></a>73</span> +he who had the providential right necessarily had the legal +one! a very simple discovery, which must, however, have cost +him some pains; for this confounder of words was himself +confounded by twelve answers by non-jurors! A French +politician of this stamp recently was suspended from his lectureship +for asserting that <i>the possession of the soil</i> was a +right; by which principle, <i>any king</i> reigning over a country, +whether by treachery, crime, and usurpation, was a <i>legitimate +sovereign</i>. For this convenient principle the lecturer was +tried, and declared not guilty—by persons who have lately +found their advantage in a confusion of words. In treaties +between nations, a “confusion of words” has been more particularly +studied; and that negotiator has conceived himself +most dexterous who, by this abuse of words, has retained an +<i>arrière-pensée</i> which may fasten or loosen the ambiguous +expression he had so cautiously and so finely inlaid in his +mosaic of treachery. A scene of this nature I draw out of +“Mesnager’s Negociation with the Court of England.” +When that secret agent of Louis the Fourteenth was negotiating +a peace, an insuperable difficulty arose respecting the +acknowledgment of the Hanoverian succession. It was absolutely +necessary, on this delicate point, to quiet the anxiety +of the English public and our allies; but though the French +king was willing to recognise Anne’s title to the throne, yet +the settlement in the house of Hanover was incompatible +with French interests and French honour. Mesnager told +Lord Bolingbroke that “the king, his master, would consent +to any such article, <i>looking the other way, as might disengage +him from the obligation of that agreement</i>, as the occasion +should present.” This ambiguous language was probably +understood by Lord Bolingbroke: at the next conference his +lordship informed the secret agent “that the queen could not +admit of any <i>explanations, whatever her intentions might be</i>; +that the <i>succession</i> was settled by act of parliament; that as +to the private sentiments of the queen, or of any about her, +he could say nothing.” “All this was said with such an air, +as to let me understand that he gave a <i>secret assent</i> to what +I had proposed, &c.; but he desired me to drop the discourse.” +Thus two great negotiators, both equally urgent to conclude +the treaty, found an insuperable obstacle occur, which neither +could control. Two honest men would have parted; but the +“skilful confounder of words,” the French diplomatist, hit on +an expedient; he wrote the words which afterwards appeared +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page74" id="page74"></a>74</span> +in the preliminaries, “That Louis the Fourteenth will acknowledge +the Queen of Great Britain in that quality, as also <i>the +succession of the crown according to the</i> <span class="sc">present settlement</span>.” +“The English agent,” adds the Frenchman, “would +have had me add—<i>on the house of Hanover</i>, but this I +entreated him not to desire of me.” The term <span class="sc">present +settlement</span>, then, was that article which was <span class="sc">looking the +other way</span>, <i>to disengage his master from the obligation of +that agreement</i>, as occasion should present! that is, that +Louis the Fourteenth chose to understand by the <span class="sc">present +settlement</span> the <i>old one</i>, by which the British crown was to +be restored to the Pretender! Anne and the English nation +were to understand it in their own sense—as the <i>new one</i>, +which transferred it to the house of Hanover!</p> + +<p>When politicians cannot rely upon each other’s interpretation +of <i>one of the commonest words</i> in our language, how can +they possibly act together? The Bishop of Winchester has +proved this observation, by the remarkable anecdote of the +Duke of Portland and Mr. Pitt, who, with a view to unite +parties, were to hold a conference <i>on</i> <span class="sc">fair</span> <i>and</i> <span class="sc">equal</span> <i>terms</i>. +His grace did not object to the word <span class="sc">fair</span>, but the word +<span class="sc">equal</span> was more specific and limited; and for a necessary preliminary, +he requested Mr. Pitt to inform him what he <i>understood</i> +by the word <span class="sc">equal</span>? Whether Pitt was puzzled by the +question, or would not deliver up an <i>arrière-pensée,</i> he put off +the explanation to the conference. But the duke would not +meet Mr. Pitt till the <i>word</i> was explained; and this important +negotiation was broken off by not explaining a simple word +which appeared to require no explanation.</p> + +<p>There is nothing more fatal in language than to wander +from the popular acceptation of words; and yet this popular +sense cannot always accord with precision of ideas, for it is +itself subject to great changes.</p> + +<p>Another source, therefore, of the abuse of words, is that +mutability to which, in the course of time, the verbal edifice, +as well as more substantial ones, is doomed. A familiar +instance presents itself in the titles of <i>tyrant</i>, <i>parasite</i>, +and <i>sophist</i>, originally honourable distinctions. The abuses of +dominion made the appropriate title of kings odious; the title +of a magistrate, who had the care of the public granaries of +corn, at length was applied to a wretched flatterer for a +dinner; and absurd philosophers occasioned a mere denomination +to become a by-name. To employ such terms in their +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page75" id="page75"></a>75</span> +primitive sense would now confuse all ideas; yet there is an +affectation of erudition which has frequently revived terms +sanctioned by antiquity. Bishop Watson entitled his vindication +of the Bible “an <i>apology</i>:” this word, in its primitive +sense, had long been lost for the multitude, whom he particularly +addressed in this work, and who could only understand +it in the sense they are accustomed to. Unquestionably, many +of its readers have imagined that the bishop was offering an +<i>excuse</i> for a belief in the Bible, instead of a <i>vindication</i> of its +truth. The word <i>impertinent</i>, by the ancient jurisconsults, or +law-counsellors, who gave their opinion on cases, was used +merely in opposition to <i>pertinent</i>—<i>ratio pertinens</i> is a pertinent +reason, that is, a reason <i>pertaining</i> to the cause in question, +and a <i>ratio impertinens</i>, an impertinent reason, is an +argument <i>not pertaining</i> to the subject.<a name="FnAnchor_44" id="FnAnchor_44" href="#Footnote_44"><span class="sp">44</span></a> <i>Impertinent</i> then +originally meant neither absurdity nor rude intrusion, as it +does in our present popular sense. The learned Arnauld +having characterised a reply of one of his adversaries by the +epithet <i>impertinent</i>, when blamed for the freedom of his language, +explained his meaning by giving this history of the +word, which applies to our own language. Thus also with us +the word <i>indifferent</i> has entirely changed: an historian, whose +work was <i>indifferently</i> written, would formerly have claimed +our attention. In the Liturgy it is prayed that “magistrates +may <i>indifferently</i> minister justice.” <i>Indifferently</i> originally +meant <i>impartially</i>. The word <i>extravagant</i>, in its primitive +signification, only signified to digress from the subject. The +Decretals, or those letters from the popes deciding on points +of ecclesiastical discipline, were at length incorporated with +the canon law, and were called <i>extravagant</i> by <i>wandering out</i> +of the body of the canon law, being confusedly dispersed +through that collection. When Luther had the Decretals +publicly burnt at Wittemberg, the insult was designed for the +pope, rather than as a condemnation of the canon law itself. +Suppose, in the present case, two persons of opposite opinions. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page76" id="page76"></a>76</span> +The catholic, who had said that the decretals were <i>extravagant</i>, +might not have intended to depreciate them, or make +any concession to the Lutheran. What confusion of words +has the <i>common sense</i> of the Scotch metaphysicians introduced +into philosophy! There are no words, perhaps, in the +language which may be so differently interpreted; and Professor +Dugald Stewart has collected, in a curious note in the +second volume of his “Philosophy of the Human Mind,” a +singular variety of its opposite significations. The Latin +phrase, <i>sensus communis</i>, may, in various passages of Cicero, +be translated by our phrase <i>common sense</i>; but, on other +occasions, it means something different; the <i>sensus communis</i> +of the schoolmen is quite another thing, and is synonymous +with <i>conception</i>, and referred to the seat of intellect; with Sir +John Davies, in his curious metaphysical poem, <i>common sense</i> +is used as <i>imagination</i>. It created a controversy with Beattie +and Reid; and Reid, who introduced this vague ambiguous +phrase in philosophical language, often understood the term in +its ordinary acceptation. This change of the meaning of +words, which is constantly recurring in metaphysical disputes, +has made that curious but obscure science liable to this objection +of Hobbes, “with many words making nothing understood!”</p> + +<p>Controversies have been keenly agitated about the principles +of morals, which resolve entirely into <i>verbal disputes</i>, or at +most into questions of arrangement and classification, of little +comparative moment to the points at issue. This observation +of Mr. Dugald Stewart’s might be illustrated by the fate of +the numerous inventors of systems of thinking or morals, who +have only employed very different and even opposite terms in +appearance to express the same thing. Some, by their mode +of philosophising, have strangely unsettled the words <i>self-interest</i> +and <i>self-love</i>; and their misconceptions have sadly +misled the votaries of these systems of morals; as others also +by such vague terms as “utility, fitness,” &c.</p> + +<p>When Epicurus asserted that the sovereign good consisted +in <i>pleasure</i>, opposing the unfeeling austerity of the Stoics by +the softness of pleasurable emotions, his principle was soon +disregarded; while his <i>word</i>, perhaps chosen in the spirit of +paradox, was warmly adopted by the sensualist. Epicurus, +of whom Seneca has drawn so beautiful a domestic scene, in +whose garden a loaf, a Cytheridean cheese, and a draught +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page77" id="page77"></a>77</span> +which did not inflame thirst,<a name="FnAnchor_45" id="FnAnchor_45" href="#Footnote_45"><span class="sp">45</span></a> was the sole banquet, would +have started indignantly at</p> + +<p class="center1 f90">The fattest hog in Epicurus’ sty!</p> + +<p class="noind">Such are the facts which illustrate that principle in “the +abuse of words,” which Locke calls “an affected obscurity +arising from applying <i>old words to new, or unusual significations</i>.”</p> + +<p>It was the same “confusion of words” which gave rise to +the famous sect of the Sadducees. The master of its founder +Sadoc, in his moral purity, was desirous of a disinterested +worship of the Deity; he would not have men like slaves, +obedient from the hope of reward or the fear of punishment. +Sadoc drew a quite contrary inference from the intention of +his master, concluding that there were neither rewards nor +punishments in a future state. The result is a parallel to the +fate of Epicurus. The morality of the master of Sadoc was +of the most pure and elevated kind, but in the “confusion of +words,” the libertines adopted them for their own purposes—and +having once assumed that neither rewards nor punishments +existed in the after-state, they proceeded to the erroneous +consequence that man perished with his own dust!</p> + +<p>The plainest words, by accidental associations, may suggest +the most erroneous conceptions, and have been productive of +the grossest errors. In the famous Bangorian controversy, +one of the writers excites a smile by a complaint, arising from +his views of the signification of a plain word, whose meaning +he thinks had been changed by the contending parties. He +says, “the word <i>country</i>, like a great many others, such as +<i>church</i> and kingdom, is, by the Bishop of Bangor’s leave, +become to signify a <i>collection of ideas</i> very different from its +<i>original meaning</i>; with some it implies <i>party</i>, with others +<i>private opinion</i>, and with most <i>interest</i>, and perhaps, in time, +may signify <i>some other country</i>. When this good innocent +word has been tossed backwards and forwards a little longer, +some new reformer of language may arise to reduce it to its +primitive signification—<i>the real interest of Great Britain!</i>” +The antagonist of this controversialist probably retorted on +him his own term of <i>the real interest</i>, which might be a very +opposite one, according to their notions! It has been said, +with what truth I know not, that it was by a mere confusion +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page78" id="page78"></a>78</span> +of words that Burke was enabled to alarm the great Whig +families, by showing them their fate in that of the +French <i>noblesse</i>; they were misled by the <i>similitude of names</i>. +The French <i>noblesse</i> had as little resemblance to our nobility +as they have to the Mandarins of China. However it may +be in this case, certain it is that the same terms misapplied +have often raised those delusive notions termed false analogies. +It was long imagined in this country, that the <i>parliaments</i> of +France were somewhat akin to our own; but these assemblies +were very differently constituted, consisting only of lawyers in +courts of law. A misnomer confuses all argument. There +is a trick which consists in bestowing good names on bad +things. Vices, thus veiled, are introduced to us as virtues, +according to an old poet,</p> + +<p class="center1 f90" style="padding-bottom: 0; margin-bottom: 0;">As drunkenness, good-fellowship we call?</p> + +<p class="rt sc">Sir Thomas Wiat.</p> + +<p class="noind">Or the reverse, when loyalty may be ridiculed, as</p> + +<p class="center1 f90">The right divine of kings—to govern wrong!</p> + +<p class="noind">The most innocent recreations, such as the drama, dancing, +dress, have been anathematised by puritans, while philosophers +have written elaborate treatises in their defence—the +enigma is solved, when we discover that these words suggested +a set of opposite notions to each.</p> + +<p>But the nominalists and the realists, and the <i>doctores fundatissimi</i>, +<i>resolutissimi</i>, <i>refulgentes</i>, <i>profundi</i>, and <i>extatici</i>, +have left this heirloom of logomachy to a race as subtle and +irrefragable! An extraordinary scene has recently been performed +by a new company of actors, in the modern comedy +of Political Economy; and the whole dialogue has been carried +on in an inimitable “confusion of words!” This reasoning +and unreasoning fraternity never use a term as a +term, but for an explanation, and which employed by them +all, signifies opposite things, but never the plainest! Is it +not, therefore, strange that they cannot yet tell us what are +<i>riches</i>? what is <i>rent</i>? what is <i>value</i>? Monsieur Say, the +most sparkling of them all, assures us that the English +writers are obscure, by their confounding, like Smith, the denomination +of <i>labour</i>. The vivacious Gaul cries out to the +grave Briton, Mr. Malthus, “If I consent to employ your +word <i>labour</i>, you must understand me,” so and so! Mr. +Malthus says, “Commodities are not exchanged for commodities +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page79" id="page79"></a>79</span> +only; they are also exchanged for <i>labour</i>;” and when +the hypochondriac Englishman, with dismay, foresees “the +glut of markets,” and concludes that we may produce more +than we can consume, the paradoxical Monsieur Say discovers +that “commodities” is a <i>wrong word</i>, for it gives a +wrong idea; it should be “productions;” for his axiom is, +that “productions can only be purchased with productions.” +Money, it seems, according to dictionary ideas, has no existence +in his vocabulary; for Monsieur Say has formed a sort of +Berkleian conception of wealth being immaterial, while we +confine our views to its materiality. Hence ensues from this +“confusion of words,” this most brilliant paradox,—that “a +glutted market is not a proof that we produce <i>too much</i> but +that we produce <i>too little</i>! for in that case there is not +enough produced to exchange with what is produced!” As +Frenchmen excel in politeness and impudence, Monsieur Say +adds, “I revere Adam Smith; he is my master; but this +first of political economists did not understand all the phenomena +of production and consumption.” We, who remain +uninitiated in this mystery of explaining the operations of +trade by metaphysical ideas, and raising up theories to conduct +those who never theorise, can only start at the “confusion +of words,” and leave this blessed inheritance to our +sons, if ever the science survive the logomachy.</p> + +<p>Caramuel, a famous Spanish bishop, was a grand architect +of words. Ingenious in theory, his errors were confined to +his practice: he said a great deal and meant nothing; and by +an exact dimension of his intellect, taken at the time, it appeared +that “he had genius in the eighth degree, eloquence in +the fifth, but judgment only in the second!” This great man +would not read the ancients; for he had a notion that the +moderns must have acquired all they possessed, with a good +deal of their own “into the bargain.” Two hundred and +sixty-two works, differing in breadth and length, besides his +manuscripts, attest, that if the world would read his writings, +they could need no other; for which purpose his last +work always referred to the preceding ones, and could never +be comprehended till his readers possessed those which were +to follow. As he had the good sense to perceive that metaphysicians +abound in obscure and equivocal terms, to avoid +this “confusion of words,” he invented a jargon of his own; +and to make “confusion worse confounded,” projected grammars +and vocabularies by which we were to learn it; but it +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page80" id="page80"></a>80</span> +is supposed that he was the only man who understood himself. +He put every author in despair by the works which he +announced. This famous architect of words, however, built +more labyrinths than he could always get out of, notwithstanding +his “<i>cabalistical</i> grammar,” and his “<i>audacious</i> +grammar.”<a name="FnAnchor_46" id="FnAnchor_46" href="#Footnote_46"><span class="sp">46</span></a> Yet this great Caramuel, the critics have +agreed, was nothing but a puffy giant, with legs too weak +for his bulk, and only to be accounted as a hero amidst a +“confusion of words.”</p> + +<p>Let us dread the fate of Caramuel! and before we enter +into discussion with the metaphysician, first settle what he +means by the nature of <i>ideas</i>; with the politician, his notion +of <i>liberty</i> and <i>equality</i>; with the divine, what he deems +<i>orthodox;</i> with the political economist, what he considers to +be <i>value</i> and <i>rent</i>! By this means we may avoid, what is +perpetually recurring, that extreme laxity or vagueness of +words, which makes every writer, or speaker, complain of his +predecessor, and attempt sometimes, not in the best temper, +to define and to settle the signification of what the witty +South calls “those rabble-charming words, which carry so +much wildfire wrapt up in them.”</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_42" id="Footnote_42" href="#FnAnchor_42"><span class="fn">42</span></a> Turner’s “History of England,” i. 514</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_43" id="Footnote_43" href="#FnAnchor_43"><span class="fn">43</span></a> We owe this curious unpublished letter to the zeal and care of Professor +Dugald Stewart, in his excellent “Dissertations.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_44" id="Footnote_44" href="#FnAnchor_44"><span class="fn">44</span></a> It is still a Chancery word. An answer in Chancery, &c., is referred +for <i>impertinence</i>, reported <i>impertinent</i>—and the <i>impertinence</i> +ordered to be struck out, meaning only what is immaterial or superfluous, +tending to unnecessary expense. I am indebted for this explanation to my +friend, Mr. Merivale; and to another learned friend, formerly in that +court, who describes its meaning as “an excess of words or matter in the +pleadings,” and who has received many an official fee for “expunging +impertinence,” leaving, however, he acknowledges, a sufficient quantity to +make the lawyers ashamed of their verbosity.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_45" id="Footnote_45" href="#FnAnchor_45"><span class="fn">45</span></a> Sen. Epist. 21.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_46" id="Footnote_46" href="#FnAnchor_46"><span class="fn">46</span></a> Baillet gives the dates and plans of these grammars. The <i>cabalistic</i> +was published in Bruxelles, 1642, in 12mo. The <i>audacious</i> was in folio, +printed at Frankfort, 1654.—Jugemens des Savans. Tome ii. 3me partie.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>POLITICAL NICKNAMES.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Political</span> calumny is said to have been reduced into an art, +like that of logic, by the Jesuits. This itself may be a political +calumny! A powerful body, who themselves had practised +the artifices of calumniators, may, in their turn, often +have been calumniated. The passage in question was drawn +out of one of the classical authors used in their colleges. +Busembaum, a German Jesuit, had composed, in duodecimo, a +“Medulla Theologiæ moralis,” where, among other casuistical +propositions, there was found lurking in this old Jesuit’s +“marrow” one which favoured regicide and assassination! +Fifty editions of the book had passed unnoticed; till a new +one appearing at the critical moment of Damien’s attempt, +the duodecimo of the old scholastic Jesuit, which had now +been amplified by its commentators into two folios, was considered +not merely ridiculous, but dangerous. It was burnt +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page81" id="page81"></a>81</span> +at Toulouse, in 1757, by order of the parliament, and condemned +at Paris. An Italian Jesuit published an “apology” +for this theory of assassination, and the same flames devoured +it! Whether Busembaum deserved the honour bestowed on +his ingenuity, the reader may judge by the passage itself.</p> + +<p>“Whoever would ruin a person, or a government, must +begin this operation by spreading calumnies, to defame the +person or the government; for unquestionably the calumniator +will always find a great number of persons inclined to +believe him, or to side with him; it therefore follows, that +whenever the object of such calumnies is once lowered in +credit by such means, he will soon lose the reputation and +power founded on that credit, and sink under the permanent +and vindictive attacks of the calumniator.” This is the +politics of Satan—the evil principle which regulates so many +things in this world. The enemies of the Jesuits have +formed a list of great names who had become the victims of +such atrocious Machiavelism.<a name="FnAnchor_47" id="FnAnchor_47" href="#Footnote_47"><span class="sp">47</span></a></p> + +<p>This has been one of the arts practised by all political +parties. Their first weak invention is to attach to a new +faction a contemptible or an opprobrious nickname. In the +history of the revolutions of Europe, whenever a new party +has at length established its independence, the original +denomination which had been fixed on them, marked by the +passions of the party which bestowed it, strangely contrasts +with the state of the party finally established!</p> + +<p>The first revolutionists of Holland incurred the contemptuous +name of “Les Gueux,” or the Beggars. The Duchess of +Parma inquiring about them, the Count of Barlamont scornfully +described them to be of this class; and it was flattery of +the great which gave the name currency. The Hollanders +accepted the name as much in defiance as with indignation, +and acted up to it. Instead of brooches in their hats, they +wore little wooden platters, such as beggars used, and foxes’ +tails instead of feathers. On the targets of some of these +<i>Gueux</i> they inscribed “Rather Turkish than Popish!” and +had the print of a cock crowing, out of whose mouth was a +label, <i>Vive les Gueux par tout le monde!</i> which was everywhere +set up, and was the favourite sign of their inns. The +Protestants in France, after a variety of nicknames to render +them contemptible—such as <i>Christodins</i>, because they would +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page82" id="page82"></a>82</span> +only talk about Christ, similar to our Puritans; and <i>Parpaillots</i>, +or <i>Parpirolles</i>, a small base coin, which was odiously applied +to them—at length settled in the well-known term of +<i>Huguenots</i>, which probably was derived, as the Dictionnaire +de Trévoux suggests, from their hiding themselves in secret +places, and appearing at night, like King Hugon, the great +hobgoblin of France. It appears that the term has been +preserved by an earthen vessel without feet, used in cookery, +which served the <i>Huguenots</i> on meagre days to dress their +meat, and to avoid observation; a curious instance, where +a thing still in use proves the obscure circumstance of its +origin.</p> + +<p>The atrocious insurrection, called <i>La Jacquerie</i>, was a term +which originated in cruel derision. When John of France +was a prisoner in England, his kingdom appears to have been +desolated by its wretched nobles, who, in the indulgence of +their passions, set no limits to their luxury and their extortion. +They despoiled their peasantry without mercy, and +when these complained, and even reproached this tyrannical +nobility with having forsaken their sovereign, they were told +that <i>Jacque bon homme</i> must pay for all. But <i>Jack good-man</i> +came forward in person—a leader appeared under this +fatal name, and the peasants revolting in madness, and being +joined by all the cut-throats and thieves of Paris, at once +pronounced condemnation on every gentleman in France! +Froissart has the horrid narrative; twelve thousand of these +<i>Jacques bon hommes</i> expiated their crimes; but the <i>Jacquerie</i>, +who had received their first appellation in derision, assumed +it as their <i>nom de guerre</i>.</p> + +<p>In the spirited Memoirs of the Duke of Guise, written by +himself, of his enterprise against the kingdom of Naples, we +find a curious account of this political art of marking people +by odious nicknames. “Gennaro and Vicenzo,” says the +duke, “cherished underhand that aversion the rascality had +for the better sort of citizens and civiller people, who, by the +insolencies they suffered from these, not unjustly hated them. +The better class inhabiting the suburbs of the Virgin were +called <i>black cloaks</i>, and the ordinary sort of people took the +name of <i>lazars</i>, both in French and English an old word for +leprous beggar, and hence the <i>lazaroni</i> of Naples.” We +can easily conceive the evil eye of a <i>lazar</i> when he encountered +a <i>black cloak</i>! The Duke adds—“Just as, at the beginning +of the revolution, the revolters in Flanders formerly took that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page83" id="page83"></a>83</span> +of <i>beggars</i>; those of Guienne, that of <i>eaters</i>; those of +Normandy that of <i>bare-feet</i>; and of Beausse and Soulogne, of +<i>wooden-pattens</i>.” In the late French revolution, we observed +the extremes indulged by both parties chiefly concerned in +revolution—the wealthy and the poor! The rich, who, in +derision, called their humble fellow-citizens by the contemptuous +term of <i>sans-culottes</i>, provoked a reacting injustice +from the populace, who, as a dreadful return for only a slight, +rendered the innocent term of <i>aristocrate</i> a signal for plunder +or slaughter!</p> + +<p>It is a curious fact that the French verb <i>fronder</i>, as well +the noun <i>frondeur</i>, are used to describe those who condemn +the measures of government; and more extensively, designates +any hyperbolical and malignant criticism, or any sort of condemnation. +These words have only been introduced into the +language since the intrigues of Cardinal de Retz succeeded in +raising a faction against Cardinal Mazarin, known in French +history by the nickname of the <i>Frondeurs</i>, or the Slingers. +It originated in pleasantry, although it became the password +for insurrection in France, and the odious name of a faction. +A wit observed, that the parliament were like those school-boys, +who fling their stones in the pits of Paris, and as soon +as they see the <i>Lieutenant Civil</i>, run away; but are sure to +collect again directly he disappears. The comparison was +lively, and formed the burthen of songs; and afterwards, +when affairs were settled between the king and the parliament, +it was more particularly applied to the faction of +Cardinal de Retz, who still held out. “We encouraged the +application,” says de Retz; “for we observed that the distinction +of a name heated the minds of people; and one +evening we resolved to wear hat-strings in the form of slings. +A hatter, who might be trusted with the secret, made a great +number as a new fashion, and which were worn by many +who did not understand the joke; we ourselves were the last +to adopt them, that the invention might not appear to have +come from us. The effect of this trifle was immense; every +fashionable article was now to assume the shape of a sling; +bread, hats, gloves, handkerchiefs, fans, &c.; and we ourselves +became more in fashion by this folly, than by what was +essential.” This revolutionary term was never forgotten by +the French, a circumstance which might have been considered +as prognostic of that after-revolution, which de Retz had the +imagination to project, but not the daring to establish. We +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page84" id="page84"></a>84</span> +see, however, this great politician, confessing the advantages +his party derived by encouraging the application of a by-name, +which served “to heat the minds of people.”</p> + +<p>It is a curious circumstance that I should have to recount +in this chapter on “Political Nicknames” a familiar term +with all lovers of art, that of <i>Silhouette</i>! This is well understood +as a <i>black profile</i>; but it is more extraordinary that a +term so universally adopted should not be found in any +dictionary, either in that of <i>L’Académie</i>, or in Todd’s, and +has not even been preserved, where it is quite indispensable, +in Millin’s <i>Dictionnaire des Beaux-Arts</i>! It is little suspected +that this innocent term originated in a political nickname! +<i>Silhouette</i> was a minister of state in France in 1759; +that period was a critical one; the treasury was in an +exhausted condition, and Silhouette, a very honest man, who +would hold no intercourse with financiers or loan-mongers, +could contrive no other expedient to prevent a national +bankruptcy, than excessive economy and interminable reform! +Paris was not the metropolis, any more than London, where +a Plato or a Zeno could long be minister of state without incurring +all the ridicule of the wretched wits! At first they +pretended to take his advice, merely to laugh at him:—they +cut their coats shorter, and wore them without sleeves; they +turned their gold snuff-boxes into rough wooden ones; and +the new-fashioned portraits were now only profiles of a face, +traced by a black pencil on the shadow cast by a candle on +white paper! All the fashions assumed an air of niggardly +economy, till poor Silhouette was driven into retirement, with +all his projects of savings and reforms; but he left his name +to describe the most economical sort of portrait, and one as +melancholy as his own fate!</p> + +<p>This political artifice of appropriating cant terms, or odious +nicknames, could not fail to flourish among a people so +perpetually divided by contending interests as ourselves; +every party with us have had their watchword, which has +served either to congregate themselves, or to set on the ban-dogs +of one faction to worry and tear those of another. We +practised it early, and we find it still prospering! The +<i>Puritan</i> of Elizabeth’s reign survives to this hour; the trying +difficulties which that wise sovereign had to overcome in +settling the national religion, found no sympathy in either of +the great divisions of her people; she retained as much of the +catholic rites as might be decorous in the new religion, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page85" id="page85"></a>85</span> +sought to unite, and not to separate, her children. John +Knox, in the spirit of charity, declared, that “she was +neither gude protestant, nor yet resolute papist; let the +world judge quilk is the third.”</p> + +<p>A jealous party arose, who were for reforming the reformation. +In their attempt at more than human purity, they +obtained the nickname of <i>Puritans</i>; and from their fastidiousness +about very small matters, <i>Precisians</i>; these Drayton +characterises as persons that for a painted glass window +would pull down the whole church. At that early period +these nicknames were soon used in an odious sense; for +Warner, a poet in the reign of Elizabeth, says,—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>If hypocrites why <i>puritaines</i> we term be asked, in breese,</p> +<p>’Tis but an <i>ironised terme</i>; good-fellow so spels theese!</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Honest Fuller, who knew that many good men were +among these <i>Puritans</i>, wished to decline the term altogether, +under the less offensive one of <i>Non-conformists</i>. But the +fierce and the fiery of this party, in Charles the First’s time +had been too obtrusive not to fully merit the ironical appellative; +and the peaceful expedient of our moderator dropped +away with the page in which it was written. The people +have frequently expressed their own notions of different parliaments +by some apt nickname. In Richard the Second’s +time, to express their dislike of the extraordinary and irregular +proceedings of the lords against the sovereign, as well +as their sanguinary measures, they called it “The <i>wonder-working</i> +and the <i>unmerciful</i> parliament.” In Edward the +Third’s reign, when the Black Prince was yet living, the +parliament, for having pursued with severity the party of +the Duke of Lancaster, was so popular, that the people distinguished +it as the <i>good</i> parliament. In Henry the Third’s +time, the parliament opposing the king, was called “<i>Parliamentum +insanum</i>,” the mad parliament, because the lords +came armed to insist on the confirmation of the great charter. +A Scottish parliament, from its perpetual shiftings from place +to place was ludicrously nicknamed the <i>running</i> parliament; +in the same spirit we had our <i>long</i> parliament. The nickname +of <i>Pensioner</i> parliament stuck to the House of Commons +which sate nearly eighteen years without dissolution, +under Charles the Second; and others have borne satirical or +laudatory epithets. So true it is, as old Holingshed observed, +“The common people will manie times give such <i>bie names</i> as +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page86" id="page86"></a>86</span> +seemeth <i>best liking to themselves</i>.” It would be a curious +speculation to discover the sources of the popular feeling; +influenced by delusion, or impelled by good sense!</p> + +<p>The exterminating political nickname of <i>malignant</i> darkened +the nation through the civil wars: it was a proscription—and +a list of <i>good</i> and <i>bad</i> lords was read by the leaders of +the first tumults. Of all these inventions, this diabolical one +was most adapted to exasperate the animosities of the people, +so often duped by names. I have never detected the active +man of faction who first hit on this odious brand for persons, +but the period when the word changed its ordinary meaning +was early; Charles, in 1642, retorts on the parliamentarians +the opprobrious distinction, as “The <i>true malignant party</i> +which has contrived and countenanced those barbarous +tumults.” And the royalists pleaded for themselves, that +the hateful designation was ill applied to them: “for by +<i>malignity</i> you denote,” said they, “activity in doing evil, +whereas we have always been on the suffering side in our +persons, credits, and estates;” but the parliamentarians, +“grinning a ghastly smile,” would reply, that “the royalists +would have been <i>malignant</i> had they proved successful.” +The truth is, that <i>malignancy</i> meant with both parties any +opposition of opinion. At the same period the offensive distinctions +of <i>roundheads</i> and <i>cavaliers</i> supplied the people +with party names, who were already provided with so many +religious as well as civil causes of quarrel; the cropt heads of +the sullen sectaries and the people, were the origin of the +derisory nickname; the splendid elegance and the romantic +spirit of the royalists long awed the rabble, who in their +mockery could brand them by no other appellation than one +in which their bearers gloried. In the distracted times of +early revolution, any nickname, however vague, will fully +answer a purpose, although neither those who are blackened +by the odium, nor those who cast it, can define the hateful +appellative. When the term of <i>delinquents</i> came into vogue, +it expressed a degree and species of guilt, says Hume, not +exactly known or ascertained. It served, however, the end +of those revolutionists who had coined it, by involving any +person in, or colouring any action by, <i>delinquency</i>; and many +of the nobility and gentry were, without any questions being +asked, suddenly discovered to have committed the crime of +<i>delinquency</i>! Whether honest Fuller be facetious or grave +on this period of nicknaming parties I will not decide; but, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page87" id="page87"></a>87</span> +when he tells us that there was another word which was introduced +into our nation at this time, I think at least that +the whole passage is an admirable commentary on this party +vocabulary. “Contemporary with <i>malignants</i> is the word +<i>plunder</i>, which some make of Latin original, from <i>planum +dare</i>, to <i>level</i>, to <i>plane</i> all to nothing! Others of Dutch extraction, +as if it were to <i>plume</i>, or pluck the feathers of a +bird to the bare skin.<a name="FnAnchor_48" id="FnAnchor_48" href="#Footnote_48"><span class="sp">48</span></a> Sure I am we first heard of it in the +Swedish wars; and if the name and thing be sent back from +whence it came few English eyes would weep thereat.” All +England had wept at the introduction of the word. The +<i>rump</i> was the filthy nickname of an odious faction—the +history of this famous appellation, which was at first one of +horror, till it afterwards became one of derision and contempt, +must be referred to another place. The <i>rump</i> became a perpetual +whetstone for the loyal wits,<a name="FnAnchor_49" id="FnAnchor_49" href="#Footnote_49"><span class="sp">49</span></a> till at length its former +admirers, the rabble themselves, in town and country, vied +with each other in “<i>burning rumps</i>” of beef, which were hung +by chains on a gallows with a bonfire underneath, and proved +how the people, like children, come at length to make a plaything +of that which was once their bugbear.</p> + +<p>Charles the Second, during the short holiday of the restoration—all +holidays seem short!—and when he and the people +were in good humour, granted anything to every one,—the +mode of “Petitions” got at length very inconvenient, and +the king in council declared that this petitioning was “A +method set on foot by ill men to promote discontents among +the people,” and enjoined his loving subjects not to subscribe +them. The petitioners, however, persisted—when a new +party rose to express their abhorrence of petitioning; both +parties nicknamed each other the <i>petitioners</i> and the <i>abhorrers</i>! +Their day was short, but fierce; the <i>petitioners</i>, +however weak in their cognomen, were far the bolder of the +two, for the commons were with them, and the <i>abhorrers</i> had +expressed by their term rather the strength of their inclinations +than of their numbers. Charles the Second said to a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page88" id="page88"></a>88</span> +<i>petitioner</i> from Taunton, “How <i>dare</i> you deliver me such a +paper?” “Sir,” replied the petitioner from Taunton, “my +name is <span class="sc">Dare</span>!” A saucy reply, for which he was tried, +fined, and imprisoned; when lo! the commons petitioned +again to release the <i>petitioner</i>! “The very name,” says +Hume, “by which each party denominated its antagonists +discovers the virulence and rancour which prevailed; for besides +<i>petitioner</i> and <i>abhorrer</i>, this year is remarkable for being +the epoch of the well-known epithets of <i>whig</i> and <i>tory</i>.” +These silly terms of reproach, whig and tory, are still preserved +among us, as if the palladium of British liberty was +guarded by these exotic names, for they are not English, +which the parties so invidiously bestow on each other. They +are ludicrous enough in their origin. The friends of the +court and the advocates of lineal succession were, by the republican +party, branded with the title of <i>tories</i>, which was +the name of certain Irish robbers;<a name="FnAnchor_50" id="FnAnchor_50" href="#Footnote_50"><span class="sp">50</span></a> while the court party in +return could find no other revenge than by appropriating to +the covenanters and the republicans of that class the name +of the Scotch beverage of sour milk, whose virtue they considered +so expressive of their dispositions, and which is called +<i>whigg</i>. So ridiculous in their origin were these pernicious +nicknames, which long excited feuds and quarrels in domestic +life, and may still be said to divide into two great parties this +land of political freedom. But nothing becomes obsolete in +political factions, and the meaner and more scandalous the +name affixed by one party to another the more it becomes +not only their rallying cry or their password, but even constitutes +their glory. Thus the Hollanders long prided themselves +on the humiliating nickname of “Les Gueux:” the +protestants of France on the scornful one of the <i>Huguenots</i>; +the non-conformists in England on the mockery of the +<i>puritan</i>; and all parties have perpetuated their anger by +their inglorious names. Swift was well aware of this truth +in political history: “each party,” says that sagacious observer, +“grows proud of that appellation which their adversaries +at first intended as a reproach; of this sort were the +<i>Guelphs</i> and the <i>Ghibellines</i>, <i>Huguenots</i> and <i>Cavaliers</i>.”</p> + +<p>Nor has it been only by nicknaming each other by derisory +or opprobrious terms that parties have been marked, but they +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page89" id="page89"></a>89</span> +have also worn a livery, and practised distinctive manners. +What sufferings did not Italy endure for a long series of years +under those fatal party-names of the <i>Guelphs</i> and the <i>Ghibellines</i>; +alternately the victors and the vanquished, the +beautiful land of Italy drank the blood of her children. +Italy, like Greece, opens a moving picture of the hatreds and +jealousies of small republics; her <i>Bianchi</i> and her <i>Neri</i>, her +<i>Guelphs</i> and her <i>Ghibellines</i>! In Bologna, two great families +once shook that city with their divisions; the <i>Pepoli</i> +adopted the French interests; the <i>Maluezzi</i> the Spanish. It +was incurring some danger to walk the streets of Bologna, +for the <i>Pepoli</i> wore their feathers on the right side of their +caps, and the <i>Maluezzi</i> on the left. Such was the party-hatred +of the two great Italian factions, that they carried +their rancour even into their domestic habits; at table the +<i>Guelphs</i> placed their knives and spoons longwise, and the +<i>Ghibellines</i> across; the one cut their bread across, the other +longwise. Even in cutting an orange they could not agree; +for the <i>Guelph</i> cut his orange horizontally, and the <i>Ghibelline</i> +downwards. Children were taught these artifices of faction—their +hatreds became traditional, and thus the Italians +perpetuated the full benefits of their party-spirit from generation +to generation.<a name="FnAnchor_51" id="FnAnchor_51" href="#Footnote_51"><span class="sp">51</span></a></p> + +<p>Men in private life go down to their graves with some unlucky +name, not received in baptism, but more descriptive and +picturesque; and even ministers of state have winced at a +political christening. Malagrida the Jesuit and Jemmy +Twitcher were nicknames which made one of our ministers +odious, and another contemptible.<a name="FnAnchor_52" id="FnAnchor_52" href="#Footnote_52"><span class="sp">52</span></a> The Earl of Godolphin +caught such fire at that of Volpone, that it drove him into +the opposite party, for the vindictive purpose of obtaining the +impolitical prosecution of Sacheverell, who, in his famous +sermon, had first applied it to the earl, and unluckily it had +stuck to him.</p> + +<p>“Faction,” says Lord Orford, “is as capricious as fortune; +wrongs, oppression, the zeal of real patriots, or the +genius of false ones, may sometimes be employed for years in +kindling substantial opposition to authority; in other seasons +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page90" id="page90"></a>90</span> +the impulse of a moment, a <i>ballad</i>, a <i>nickname</i>, a <i>fashion</i> can +throw a city into a tumult, and shake the foundations of a +state.”</p> + +<p>Such is a slight history of the human passions in politics! +We might despair in thus discovering that wisdom and +patriotism so frequently originate in this turbid source of +party; but we are consoled when we reflect that the most important +political principles are immutable: and that they +are those which even the spirit of party must learn to +reverence.</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_47" id="Footnote_47" href="#FnAnchor_47"><span class="fn">47</span></a> See Recueil Chronologique et Analytique de tout ce qui a fait en Portugal +la Société de Jesus. Vol. ii. sect. 406.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_48" id="Footnote_48" href="#FnAnchor_48"><span class="fn">48</span></a> <i>Plunder</i>, observed Mr. Douce, is pure Dutch or Flemish—<i>Plunderen</i>, +from <i>Plunder</i>, which means <i>property</i> of any kind. May tells us it was +brought by those officers who had returned from the wars of the Netherlands.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_49" id="Footnote_49" href="#FnAnchor_49"><span class="fn">49</span></a> One of the best collections of political songs written during the great +Civil War, is entitled “The Rump,” and has a curious frontispiece representing +the mob burning rumps as described above.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_50" id="Footnote_50" href="#FnAnchor_50"><span class="fn">50</span></a> The “History of the Tories and Rapparees” was a popular Irish chapbook +a few years ago, and devoted to the daring acts of these marauders.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_51" id="Footnote_51" href="#FnAnchor_51"><span class="fn">51</span></a> These curious particulars I found in a manuscript.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_52" id="Footnote_52" href="#FnAnchor_52"><span class="fn">52</span></a> Lord Shelburne was named “Malagrida,” and Lord Sandwich was +“Jemmy Twitcher;” a name derived from the chief of Macheath’s gang +in the <i>Beggar’s Opera</i>.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>THE DOMESTIC LIFE OF A POET.—SHENSTONE VINDICATED.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">The</span> dogmatism of Johnson, and the fastidiousness of Gray, +the critic who passed his days amidst “the busy hum of +men,” and the poet who mused in cloistered solitude, have +fatally injured a fine natural genius in Shenstone. Mr. Campbell, +with a brother’s feeling, has (since the present article +was composed) sympathised with the endowments and the +pursuits of this poet; but the facts I had collected seemed to +me to open a more important view. I am aware how lightly +the poetical character of Shenstone is held by some great +contemporaries—although this very poet has left us at least +one poem of unrivalled originality. Mr. Campbell has +regretted that Shenstone not only “affected that arcadianism” +which “gives a certain air of masquerade in his pastoral +character,” adopted by our earlier poets, but also has “rather +incongruously blended together the rural swain with the +disciple of virtù.” All this requires some explanation. It is +not only as a poet, possessing the characteristics of poetry, +but as a creator in another way, for which I claim the attention +of the reader. I have formed a picture of the domestic +life of a poet, and the pursuits of a votary of taste, both +equally contracted in their endeavours, from the habits, the +emotions, and the events which occurred to Shenstone.</p> + +<p>Four material circumstances influenced his character, and +were productive of all his unhappiness. The neglect he +incurred in those poetical studies to which he had devoted his +hopes; his secret sorrows in not having formed a domestic +union, from prudential motives, with one whom he loved; the +ruinous state of his domestic affairs, arising from a seducing +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page91" id="page91"></a>91</span> +passion for creating a new taste in landscape gardening and +an ornamented farm; and finally, his disappointment of that +promised patronage, which might have induced him to have +become a political writer; for which his inclinations, and, it +is said, his talents in early life, were alike adapted: with these +points in view, we may trace the different states of his mind, +show what he did, and what he was earnestly intent to have +done.</p> + +<p>Why have the “Elegies” of Shenstone, which forty years +ago formed for many of us the favourite poems of our youth, +ceased to delight us in mature life? It is perhaps that these +Elegies, planned with peculiar felicity, have little in their +execution. They form a series of poetical truths, devoid of +poetical expression; truths,—for notwithstanding the pastoral +romance in which the poet has enveloped himself, the subjects +are real, and the feelings could not, therefore, be fictitious.</p> + +<p>In a Preface, remarkable for its graceful simplicity, our poet +tells us, that “He entered on his subjects occasionally, as +particular <i>incidents in life</i> suggested, or <i>dispositions of mind</i> +recommended them to his choice.” He shows that “He +drew his pictures from the spot, and, he felt very sensibly the +affections he communicates.” He avers that all those attendants +on rural scenery, and all those allusions to rural life, were +not the counterfeited scenes of a town poet, any more than +the sentiments, which were inspired by Nature. Shenstone’s +friend Graves, who knew him in early life, and to his last days, +informs us that these Elegies were written when he had taken +the Leasowes into his own hands;<a name="FnAnchor_53" id="FnAnchor_53" href="#Footnote_53"><span class="sp">53</span></a> and though his <i>ferme +ornée</i> engaged his thoughts, he occasionally wrote them, +“partly,” said Shenstone, “to divert my present impatience, +and partly, as it will be a picture of most that passes in my +own mind; a portrait which friends may value.” This, then, +is the secret charm which acts so forcibly on the first emotions +of our youth, at a moment when, not too difficult to be +pleased, the reflected delineations of the habits and the affections, +the hopes and the delights, with all the domestic +associations of this poet, always true to Nature, reflect back +that picture of ourselves which we instantly recognise. It is +only as we advance in life that we lose the relish of our early +simplicity, and that we discover that Shenstone was not +endowed with high imagination.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page92" id="page92"></a>92</span></p> + +<p>These Elegies, with some other poems, may be read with a +new interest when we discover them to form the true +Memoirs of Shenstone. Records of querulous but delightful +feelings! whose subjects spontaneously offered themselves +from passing incidents; they still perpetuate emotions +which will interest the young poet and the young lover of +taste.</p> + +<p>Elegy IV., the first which Shenstone composed, is entitled +“Ophelia’s Urn,” and it was no unreal one! It was erected +by Graves in Mickleton Church, to the memory of an extraordinary +young woman, Utrecia Smith, the literary daughter +of a learned but poor clergyman. Utrecia had formed so fine +a taste for literature, and composed with such elegance in +verse and prose, that an excellent judge declared that “he +did not like to form his opinion of any author till he previously +knew hers.” Graves had been long attached to her, +but from motives of prudence broke off an intercourse with +this interesting woman, who sunk under this severe disappointment. +When her prudent lover, Graves, inscribed the +urn, her friend Shenstone, perhaps more feelingly, commemorated +her virtues and her tastes. Such, indeed, was the +friendly intercourse between Shenstone and Utrecia, that in +Elegy XVIII., written long after her death, she still lingered +in his reminiscences. Composing this Elegy on the calamitous +close of Somerville’s life, a brother bard, and victim to +narrow circumstances, and which he probably contemplated +as an image of his own, Shenstone tenderly recollects that he +used to read Somerville’s poems to Utrecia:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Oh, lost Ophelia; smoothly flow’d the day</p> + <p class="i1">To feel his music with my flames agree;</p> +<p>To taste the beauties of his melting lay,</p> + <p class="i1">To taste, and fancy it was dear to thee!</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>How true is the feeling! how mean the poetical expression!</p> + +<p>The Seventh Elegy describes a vision, where the shadow of +Wolsey breaks upon the author:</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>A graceful form appear’d,</p> +<p>White were his locks, with awful scarlet crown’d.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">Even this fanciful subject was not chosen capriciously, but +sprung from an incident. Once, on his way to Cheltenham, +Shenstone missed his road, and wandered till late at night +among the Cotswold Hills on this occasion he appears to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page93" id="page93"></a>93</span> +have made a moral reflection, which we find in his “Essays.” +“How melancholy is it to travel late upon any ambitious +project on a winter’s night, and observe the light of cottages, +where all the unambitious people are warm and happy, or at +rest in their beds.” While the benighted poet, lost among +the lonely hills, was meditating on “ambitious projects,” the +character of Wolsey arose before him; the visionary cardinal +crossed his path, and busied his imagination. “Thou,” +exclaims the poet,</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + + <p class="i8">Like a meteor’s fire,</p> +<p>Shot’st blazing forth, disdaining dull degrees.</p> + +<p class="i18"><i>Elegy</i> vii.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">And the bard, after discovering all the miseries of unhappy +grandeur, and murmuring at this delay to the house of his +friend, exclaims—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Oh if these ills the price of power advance,</p> +<p>Check not my speed where social joys invite!</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">The silent departure of the poetical spectre is fine:</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>The troubled vision cast a mournful glance,</p> +<p>And sighing, vanish’d in the shades of night.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">And to prove that the subject of this elegy thus arose to the +poet’s fancy, he has himself commemorated the incident that +gave occasion to it, in the opening:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>On distant heaths, beneath autumnal skies,</p> + <p class="i1">Pensive I saw the circling shades descend;</p> +<p>Weary and faint, I heard the storm arise,</p> + <p class="i1">While the sun vanish’d like a faithless friend.</p> + +<p class="i18"><i>Elegy</i> vii.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>The Fifteenth Elegy, composed “in memory of a private +family in Worcestershire,” is on the extinction of the ancient +family of the Penns in the male line.<a name="FnAnchor_54" id="FnAnchor_54" href="#Footnote_54"><span class="sp">54</span></a> Shenstone’s mother +was a Penn; and the poet was now the inhabitant of their +ancient mansion, an old timber-built house of the age of +Elizabeth. The local description was a real scene—“the +shaded pool”—“the group of ancient elms”—“the flocking +rooks,” and the picture of the simple manners of his own +ancestors, were realities; the emotions they excited were +therefore genuine, and not one of those “mockeries” of +amplification from the crowd of verse-writers.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page94" id="page94"></a>94</span></p> + +<p>The Tenth Elegy, “To Fortune, suggesting his Motive +for repining at her Dispensations,” with his celebrated +“Pastoral Ballad, in four parts.” were alike produced by +what one of the great minstrels of our own times has so +finely indicated when he sung—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>The secret woes the world has never known;</p> + <p class="i1">While on the weary night dawn’d wearier day,</p> +<p>And bitterer was the grief devour’d alone.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>In this Elegy Shenstone repines at the dispensations of +Fortune, not for having denied him her higher gifts, nor +that she compels him to</p> + +<p class="center1 f90">Check the fond <span class="sc">love of art</span> that fired my veins;</p> + +<p class="noind">nor that some “dull dotard with boundless wealth” finds +his “grating reed” preferred to the bard’s, but that the +“tawdry shepherdess” of this dull dotard, by her “pride,” +makes “the rural thane” despise the poet’s Delia.</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Must Delia’s softness, elegance, and ease,</p> + <p class="i1">Submit to Marian’s dress? to Marian’s gold?</p> +<p>Must Marian’s robe from distant India please?</p> + <p class="i1">The simple fleece my Delia’s limbs infold!</p> + +<p>Ah! what is native worth esteemed of clowns?</p> + <p class="i1">’Tis thy false glare, O Fortune! thine they see;</p> +<p>Tis for my Delia’s sake I dread thy frowns,</p> + <p class="i1">And my last gasp shall curses breathe on thee!</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>The Delia of our poet was not an “Iris en air.” Shenstone +was early in life captivated by a young lady, whom +Graves describes with all those mild and serene graces of +pensive melancholy, touched by plaintive love-songs and +elegies of woe, adapted not only to be the muse but the +mistress of a poet. The sensibility of this passion took +entire possession of his heart for some years, and it was in +parting from her that he first sketched his exquisite “Pastoral +Ballad.” As he retreated more and more into solitude, +his passion felt no diminution. Dr. Nash informs us that +Shenstone acknowledged that it was his own fault that he +did not accept the hand of the lady whom he so tenderly +loved; but his spirit could not endure to be a perpetual +witness of her degradation in the rank of society, by an +inconsiderate union with poetry and poverty. That such +was his motive, we may infer from a passage in one of his +letters. “Love, as it regularly tends to matrimony, requires +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page95" id="page95"></a>95</span> +certain favours from fortune and circumstances to render it +proper to be indulged in.” There are perpetual allusions to +these “secret woes” in his correspondence; for, although he +had the fortitude to refuse marriage, he had not the stoicism +to contract his own heart in cold and sullen celibacy. He +thus alludes to this subject, which so often excited far other +emotions than those of humour:—“It is long since I have +considered myself as <i>undone</i>. The world will not, perhaps, +consider me in that light entirely till I have married my +maid!”</p> + +<p>It is probable that our poet had an intention of marrying +his maid. I discovered a pleasing anecdote among the late +Mr. Bindley’s collections, which I transcribed from the original. +On the back of a picture of Shenstone himself, of which +Dodsley published a print in 1780, the following energetic +inscription was written by the poet on his new-year’s gift:—</p> + +<p>“This picture belongs to Mary Cutler, given her by her +master, William Shenstone, January 1st, 1754, in acknowledgment +of her native genius, her magnanimity, her tenderness, +and her fidelity.</p> + +<p class="rt">“W. S.”</p> + +<p> </p> +<p>“The Progress of Taste; or the Fate of Delicacy,” is +a poem on the temper and studies of the author; and +“Economy; a Rhapsody addressed to Young Poets,” +abounds with self-touches. If Shenstone created little from +the imagination, he was at least perpetually under the influence +of real emotions. This is the reason why his truths +so strongly operate on the juvenile mind, not yet matured: +and thus we have sufficiently ascertained the fact, as the +poet himself has expressed it, “that he drew his pictures +from the spot, and he felt very sensibly the affections he +communicates.”</p> + +<p>All the anxieties of a poetical life were early experienced +by Shenstone. He first published some juvenile productions, +under a very odd title, indicative of modesty, perhaps too of +pride.<a name="FnAnchor_55" id="FnAnchor_55" href="#Footnote_55"><span class="sp">55</span></a> And his motto of <i>Contentus paucis lectoribus</i>, even +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page96" id="page96"></a>96</span> +Horace himself might have smiled at, for it only conceals the +desire of every poet who pants to deserve many! But when +he tried at a more elaborate poetical labour, “The Judgment +of Hercules,” it failed to attract notice. He hastened to +town, and he beat about literary coffee-houses; and returned +to the country from the chase of Fame, wearied without having +started it.</p> + +<p class="center1 f90">A breath revived him—but a breath o’erthrew.</p> + +<p>Even “The Judgment of Hercules” between Indolence +and Industry, or Pleasure and Virtue, was a picture of his +own feelings; an argument drawn from his own reasonings; +indicating the uncertainty of the poet’s dubious disposition; +who finally by siding with Indolence, lost that triumph which +his hero obtained by a directly opposite course.</p> + +<p>In the following year begins that melancholy strain in his +correspondence which marks the disappointment of the man +who had staked too great a quantity of his happiness on the +poetical die. This is the critical moment of life when our +character is formed by habit, and our fate is decided by choice. +Was Shenstone to become an active or contemplative being? +He yielded to nature!<a name="FnAnchor_56" id="FnAnchor_56" href="#Footnote_56"><span class="sp">56</span></a></p> + +<p>It was now that he entered into another species of poetry, +working with too costly materials, in the magical composition +of plants, water, and earth; with these he created those emotions +which his more strictly poetical ones failed to excite. +He planned a paradise amidst his solitude. When we consider +that Shenstone, in developing his fine pastoral ideas in +the Leasowes, educated the nation into that taste for landscape-gardening, +which has become the model of all Europe, +this itself constitutes a claim on the gratitude of posterity.<a name="FnAnchor_57" id="FnAnchor_57" href="#Footnote_57"><span class="sp">57</span></a> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page97" id="page97"></a>97</span> +Thus the private pleasures of a man of genius may become +at length those of a whole people. The creator of this new +taste appears to have received far less notice than he merited. +The name of Shenstone does not appear in the Essay on Gardening +by Lord Orford: even the supercilious Gray only +bestowed a ludicrous image on these pastoral scenes, which, +however, his friend Mason has celebrated; and the genius of +Johnson, incapacitated by nature to touch on objects of rural +fancy, after describing some of the offices of the landscape +designer, adds, that “he will not inquire whether they demand +any great powers of mind.” Johnson, however, conveys to +us his own feelings, when he immediately expresses them +under the character of a “sullen and surly speculator.” The +anxious life of Shenstone would, indeed, have been remunerated, +could he have read the enchanting eulogium of +Wheatley on the Leasowes; which, said he, “is a perfect +picture of his mind—simple, elegant, and amiable; and will +always suggest a doubt whether the spot inspired his verse, +or whether in the scenes which he formed, he only realized +the pastoral images which abound in his songs.” Yes! +Shenstone would have been delighted, could he have heard +that Montesquieu, on his return home, adorned his “Château +gothique, mais orné de bois charmans, dont j’ai pris l’idée en +Angleterre;” and Shenstone, even with his modest and timid +nature, had been proud to have witnessed a noble foreigner, +amidst memorials dedicated to Theocritus and Virgil, to +Thomson and Gesner, raising in his grounds an inscription, +in bad English, but in pure taste, to Shenstone himself for +having displayed in his writings “a mind natural,” and in his +Leasowes “laid Arcadian greens rural.” Recently Pindemonte +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page98" id="page98"></a>98</span> +has traced the taste of English gardening to Shenstone. +A man of genius sometimes receives from foreigners, who are +placed out of the prejudices of his compatriots, the tribute of +posterity!</p> + +<p>Amidst these rural elegancies which Shenstone was raising +about him, his muse has pathetically sung his melancholy +feelings—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>But did the Muses haunt his cell,</p> +<p>Or in his dome did Venus dwell?—</p> +<p>When all the structures shone complete,</p> +<p>Ah, me! ’twas Damon’s own confession,</p> +<p>Came Poverty, and took possession.</p> + +<p class="i10"><i>The Progress of Taste.</i></p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">The poet observes, that the wants of philosophy are contracted, +satisfied with “cheap contentment,” but</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + + <p class="i8">Taste alone requires</p> +<p>Entire profusion! days and nights, and hours</p> +<p>Thy voice, hydropic Fancy! calls aloud</p> +<p>For costly draughts.——</p> + +<p class="i14"><i>Economy.</i></p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>An original image illustrates that fatal want of economy +which conceals itself amidst the beautiful appearances of +taste:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + + <p class="i6">Some graceless mark,</p> +<p>Some symptom ill-conceal’d, shall soon or late</p> +<p>Burst like a pimple from the vicious tide</p> +<p>Of acid blood, proclaiming want’s disease</p> +<p>Amidst the bloom of show.</p> + +<p class="i14"><i>Economy.</i></p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">He paints himself:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + + <p class="i6">Observe Florelio’s mien;</p> +<p>Why treads my friend with melancholy step</p> +<p>That beauteous lawn? Why pensive strays his eye</p> +<p>O’er statues, grottos, urns, by critic art</p> +<p>Proportion’d fair? or from his lofty dome</p> +<p>Returns his eye unpleased, disconsolate?</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>The cause is, “criminal expense,” and he exclaims—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + + <p class="i6">Sweet interchange</p> +<p>Of river, valley, mountain, woods, and plains,</p> +<p>How gladsome once he ranged your native turf,</p> +<p>Your simple scenes how raptured! ere <span class="sc">Expense</span></p> +<p>Had lavish’d thousand ornaments, and taught</p> +<p>Convenience to perplex him, Art to pall,</p> +<p>Pomp to deject, and Beauty to displease.</p> + +<p class="i14"><i>Economy.</i></p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page99" id="page99"></a>99</span></p> + +<p>While Shenstone was rearing hazels and hawthorns, opening +vistas, and winding waters;</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>And having shown them where to stray,</p> +<p>Threw little pebbles in their way;</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">while he was pulling down hovels and cowhouses, to compose +mottos and inscriptions for garden-seats and urns; while he +had so finely obscured with a tender gloom the grove of +Virgil, and thrown over, “in the midst of a plantation of +yew, a bridge of one arch, built of a dusty-coloured stone, +and simple even to rudeness,”<a name="FnAnchor_58" id="FnAnchor_58" href="#Footnote_58"><span class="sp">58</span></a> and invoked Oberon in some +Arcadian scene,</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Where in cool grot and mossy cell</p> +<p>The tripping fauns and fairies dwell;</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">the solitary magician, who had raised all these wonders, was, +in reality, an unfortunate poet, the tenant of a dilapidated +farm-house, where the winds passed through, and the rains +lodged, often taking refuge in his own kitchen—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Far from all resort of mirth,</p> +<p>Save the cricket on the hearth!</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>In a letter<a name="FnAnchor_59" id="FnAnchor_59" href="#Footnote_59"><span class="sp">59</span></a> of the disconsolate founder of landscape gardening, +our author paints his situation with all its misery—lamenting +that his house is not fit to receive “polite friends, +were they so disposed;” and resolved to banish all others, he +proceeds:</p> + +<p>“But I make it a certain rule, ‘arcere profanum vulgus.’ +Persons who will despise you for the want of a good set of +chairs, or an uncouth fire-shovel, at the same time that they +can’t taste any excellence in a mind that overlooks those +things; with whom it is in vain that your mind is furnished, +if the walls are naked; indeed one loses much of one’s acquisitions +in virtue by an hour’s converse with such as judge +of merit by money—yet I am now and then impelled by the +social passion to sit half an hour in my kitchen.”</p> + +<p>But the solicitude of friends and the fate of Somerville, a +neighbour and a poet, often compelled Shenstone to start +amidst his reveries; and thus he has preserved his feelings +and his irresolutions. Reflecting on the death of Somerville, +he writes—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page100" id="page100"></a>100</span></p> + +<p>“To be forced to drink himself into pains of the body, in +order to get rid of the pains of the mind, is a misery which +I can well conceive, because I may, without vanity, esteem +myself his equal in point of economy, and consequently +ought to have an eye on his misfortunes—(as you kindly +hinted to me about twelve o’clock, at the Feathers.)—I +should retrench—I will—but you shall not see me—I will +not let you know that I took it in good part—I will do it at +solitary times as I may.”</p> + +<p>Such were the calamities of “great taste” with “little +fortune;” but in the case of Shenstone, these were combined +with the other calamity of “mediocrity of genius.”</p> + +<p>Here, then, at the Leasowes, with occasional trips to town +in pursuit of fame, which perpetually eluded his grasp; in +the correspondence of a few delicate minds, whose admiration +was substituted for more genuine celebrity; composing diatribes +against economy and taste, while his income was diminishing +every year; our neglected author grew daily more +indolent and sedentary, and withdrawing himself entirely +into his own hermitage, moaned and despaired in an Arcadian +solitude.<a name="FnAnchor_60" id="FnAnchor_60" href="#Footnote_60"><span class="sp">60</span></a> The cries and the “secret sorrows” of Shenstone +have come down to us—those of his brothers have not always! +And shall dull men, because they have minds cold +and obscure, like a Lapland year which has no summer, be +permitted to exult over this class of men of sensibility and +taste, but of moderate genius and without fortune? The +passions and emotions of the heart are facts and dates only +to those who possess them.</p> + +<p>To what a melancholy state was our author reduced, when +he thus addressed his friend:—</p> + +<p>“I suppose you have been informed that my fever was in a +great measure hypochondriacal, and left my nerves so extremely +sensible, that even on no very interesting subjects, I +could readily <i>think myself into a vertigo</i>; I had almost said an +<i>epilepsy</i>; for surely I was oftentimes near it.”</p> + +<p>The features of this sad portrait are more particularly +made out in another place.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page101" id="page101"></a>101</span></p> + +<p>“Now I am come home from a visit, every little uneasiness +is sufficient to introduce my whole train of melancholy +considerations, and to make me utterly dissatisfied with the +life I now lead, and the life which I foresee I shall lead. I +am angry and envious, and dejected and frantic, and disregard +all present things, just as becomes a madman to do. I am +infinitely pleased (though it is a gloomy joy) with the application +of Dr. Swift’s complaint, ‘that he is forced to die +in a rage, like a poisoned rat in a hole.’ My soul is no more +fitted to the figure I make, than a cable rope to a cambric +needle; I cannot bear to see the advantages alienated, which +I think I could deserve and relish so much more than those +that have them.”</p> + +<p>There are other testimonies in his entire correspondence. +Whenever forsaken by his company he describes the horrors +around him, delivered up “to winter, silence, and reflection;” +ever foreseeing himself “returning to the same series of melancholy +hours.” His frame shattered by the whole train of +hypochondriacal symptoms, there was nothing to cheer the +querulous author, who with half the consciousness of genius, +lived neglected and unpatronised. His elegant mind had not +the force, by his productions, to draw the celebrity he sighed +after, to his hermitage.</p> + +<p>Shenstone was so anxious for his literary character, that he +contemplated on the posthumous fame which he might derive +from the publication of his letters: see Letter lxxix., <i>On +hearing his letters to Mr. Whistler were destroyed</i>; the act +of a merchant, his brother, who being a <i>very sensible</i> man, as +Graves describes, yet with the <i>stupidity</i> of a Goth, destroyed +<i>the whole correspondence of Shenstone, for “its sentimental +intercourse.”</i>—Shenstone bitterly regrets the loss, and says, +“I would have given more money for the letters than it is +allowable for me to mention with decency. I look upon my +letters as some of my <i>chefs-d’œuvre</i>—they are the history of my +mind for these twenty years past.” This, with the loss of +Cowley’s correspondence, should have been preserved in the +article, “of Suppressors and Dilapidators of Manuscripts.”</p> + +<p>Towards the close of life, when his spirits were exhausted, +and “the silly clue of hopes and expectations,” as +he termed them, was undone, the notice of some persons of +rank began to reach him. Shenstone, however, deeply +colours the variable state of his own mind—”Recovering +from a nervous fever, as I have since discovered by many concurrent +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page102" id="page102"></a>102</span> +symptoms, I seem to anticipate a little of that +‘vernal delight’ which Milton mentions and thinks</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>———able to chase</p> +<p>All sadness but despair—</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">at least I begin to resume my silly clue of hopes and expectations.”</p> + +<p>In a former letter he had, however, given them up: “I +begin to wean myself from all hopes and expectations whatever. +I feed my wild-ducks, and I water my carnations. +Happy enough if I could extinguish my ambition quite, to +indulge the desire of being something more beneficial in my +sphere.—Perhaps some few other circumstances would want +also to be adjusted.”</p> + +<p>What were these “hopes and expectations,” from which +sometimes he weans himself, and which are perpetually revived, +and are attributed to “an ambition he cannot extinguish”? +This article has been written in vain, if the reader +has not already perceived, that they had haunted him in early +life; sickening his spirit after the possession of a poetical +celebrity, unattainable by his genius; some expectations too +he might have cherished from the talent he possessed for political +studies, in which Graves confidently says, that “he +would have made no inconsiderable figure, if he had had a +sufficient motive for applying his mind to them.” Shenstone +has left several proofs of this talent.<a name="FnAnchor_61" id="FnAnchor_61" href="#Footnote_61"><span class="sp">61</span></a> But his master-passion +for literary fame had produced little more than anxieties +and disappointments; and when he indulged his pastoral +fancy in a beautiful creation on his grounds, it consumed the +estate which it adorned. Johnson forcibly expressed his +situation: “His death was probably hastened by his anxieties. +He was a lamp that spent its oil in blazing. It is +said, that if he had lived a little longer, he would have been +assisted by a pension.”</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_53" id="Footnote_53" href="#FnAnchor_53"><span class="fn">53</span></a> This once-celebrated abode of the poet is situated at Hales-Owen, +Shropshire.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_54" id="Footnote_54" href="#FnAnchor_54"><span class="fn">54</span></a> This we learn from Dr. Nash’s History of Worcestershire.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_55" id="Footnote_55" href="#FnAnchor_55"><span class="fn">55</span></a> While at college he printed, without his name, a small volume of +verses, with this title, “Poems upon various Occasions, written for the +Entertainment of the Author, and printed for the Amusement of a few +Friends, prejudiced in his Favour.” Oxford, 1737. 12mo.—Nash’s “History +of Worcestershire,” vol. i. p. 528.</p> + +<p>I find this notice of it in W. Lowndes’s Catalogue; 4433 Shenstone (W.) +Poems, 3<i>l.</i> 13<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>—(Shenstone took uncommon pains to suppress this +book, by collecting and destroying copies wherever he met with them.)—In, +Longman’s Bibliotheca Anglo-Poetica, it is valued at 15<i>l.</i> <i>Oxf</i>. 1737. +Mr. Harris informs me, that about the year 1770, Fletcher, the bookseller, +at Oxford, had many copies of this first edition, which he sold at <i>Eighteen +pence</i> each. These prices are amusing! The prices of books are connected +with their history.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_56" id="Footnote_56" href="#FnAnchor_56"><span class="fn">56</span></a> On this subject Graves makes a very useful observation. “In this +decision the happiness of Mr. Shenstone was materially concerned. Whether +he determined wisely or not, people of taste and people of worldly +prudence will probably be of very different opinions. I somewhat suspect, +that ‘people of worldly prudence’ are not half the fools that ‘people of +taste’ insist they are.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_57" id="Footnote_57" href="#FnAnchor_57"><span class="fn">57</span></a> Shenstone’s farm was surrounded by winding walks, decorated with +vases and statues, varied by wood and water, and occasionally embracing +fine views over Frankley and Clent Hills, and the country about Cradley, +Dudley, Rawley, and the intermediate places. Some of his vases were +inscribed to the memory of relatives and friends. One had a Latin inscription +to his cousin Maria, another was dedicated to Somerville his poet-friend. +In different parts of his domain he constructed buildings at once +useful and ornamental, destined to serve farm-purposes, but to be also +grateful to the eye. A Chinese bridge led to a temple beside a lake, and +near was a seat inscribed with the popular Shropshire toast to “all friends +round the Wrekin,” the spot commanding a distant view of the hill so +named. A wild path through a small wood led to an ingeniously constructed +root-house, beside which a rivulet ran which helped to form the +lake already mentioned; on its banks was a dedicatory urn to the <i>Genio +Loci</i>. The general effect of the whole place was highly praised in the +poet’s time. It was neglected at his death; and its description is now but +a record of the past.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_58" id="Footnote_58" href="#FnAnchor_58"><span class="fn">58</span></a> Wheatley, on “Modern Gardening,” p. 172. Edition 5th.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_59" id="Footnote_59" href="#FnAnchor_59"><span class="fn">59</span></a> In “Hull’s Collection,” vol. ii. letter ii.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_60" id="Footnote_60" href="#FnAnchor_60"><span class="fn">60</span></a> Graves was supposed to have glanced at his friend Shenstone in his +novel of “<i>Columella</i>; or, the Distressed Anchoret.” The aim of this +work is to convey all the moral instruction I could wish to offer here to +youthful genius. It is written to show the consequence of a person of +education and talents retiring to solitude and indolence in the vigour of +youth. Nichols’s “Literary Anecdotes,” vol. iii. p. 134. Nash’s “History +of Worcestershire,” vol. i. p. 528.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_61" id="Footnote_61" href="#FnAnchor_61"><span class="fn">61</span></a> See his “Letters” xl. and xli., and more particularly xlii. and xliii., +with a new theory of political principles.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>SECRET HISTORY OF THE BUILDING OF BLENHEIM.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">The</span> secret history of this national edifice derives importance +from its nature, and the remarkable characters involved in +the unparalleled transaction. The great architect, when obstructed +in the progress of his work by the irregular payments +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page103" id="page103"></a>103</span> +of the workmen, appears to have practised one of his +own comic plots to put the debts on the hero himself; while +the duke, who had it much at heart to inhabit the palace of +his fame, but tutored into wariness under the vigilant and +fierce eye of Atossa,<a name="FnAnchor_62" id="FnAnchor_62" href="#Footnote_62"><span class="sp">62</span></a> would neither approve nor disapprove, +silently looked on in hope and in grief, from year to year, as +the work proceeded, or as it was left at a stand. At length +we find this <i>comédie larmoyante</i> wound up by the duchess +herself, in an attempt utterly to ruin the enraged and insulted +architect!<a name="FnAnchor_63" id="FnAnchor_63" href="#Footnote_63"><span class="sp">63</span></a></p> + +<p>Perhaps this was the first time that it had ever been resolved +in parliament to raise a public monument of glory and +gratitude—to an individual! The novelty of the attempt +may serve as the only excuse for the loose arrangements +which followed after parliament had approved of the design, +without voting any specific supply for the purpose! The +queen always issued the orders at her own expense, and +commanded expedition; and while Anne lived, the expenses +of the building were included in her majesty’s debts, as belonging +to the civil list sanctioned by parliament.<a name="FnAnchor_64" id="FnAnchor_64" href="#Footnote_64"><span class="sp">64</span></a></p> + +<p>When George the First came to the throne, the parliament +declared the debt to be the debt of the queen, and the king +granted a privy seal as for other debts. The crown and the +parliament had hitherto proceeded in perfect union respecting +this national edifice. However, I find that the workmen +were greatly in arrears; for when George the First ascended +the throne, they gladly accepted a <i>third</i> part of their several +debts!</p> + +<p>The great architect found himself amidst inextricable +difficulties. With the fertile invention which amuses in his +comedies, he contrived an extraordinary scheme, by which he +proposed to make the duke himself responsible for the building +of Blenheim!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page104" id="page104"></a>104</span></p> + +<p>However much the duke longed to see the magnificent +edifice concluded, he showed the same calm intrepidity in the +building of Blenheim as he had in its field of action. Aware +that if he himself gave any order, or suggested any alteration, +he might be involved in the expense of the building, he was +never to be circumvented—never to be surprised into a spontaneous +emotion of pleasure or disapprobation; on no occasion, +he declares, had he even entered into conversation with the +architect (though his friend) or with any one acting under +his orders, about Blenheim House! Such impenetrable prudence +on all sides had often blunted the subdolous ingenuity +of the architect and plotter of comedies!</p> + +<p>In the absence of the duke, when abroad in 1705, Sir John +contrived to obtain from Lord Godolphin, the friend and +relative of the Duke of Marlborough, and probably his agent +in some of his concerns, a warrant, constituting Vanbrugh +<i>surveyor, with power of contracting on the behalf of the Duke +of Marlborough</i>. How he prevailed on Lord Godolphin to +get this appointment does not appear—his lordship probably +conceived it was useful, and might assist in expediting the +great work, the favourite object of the hero. This warrant, +however, Vanbrugh kept entirely to himself; he never mentioned +to the duke that he was in possession of any such power; nor, +on his return, did he claim to have it renewed.</p> + +<p>The building proceeded with the same delays, and the payments +with the same irregularity; the veteran now foresaw +what happened, that he should never be the inhabitant of his +own house! The public money issued from the Treasury +was never to be depended on; and after 1712, the duke took +the building upon himself, for the purpose of accommodating +the workmen. They had hitherto received what was called +“crown pay,” which was high wages and uncertain payment—and +they now gladly abated a third of their prices. But +though the duke had undertaken to pay the workmen, this +could make no alteration in the claims on the Treasury. +Blenheim was to be built <i>for</i> Marlborough, not <i>by</i> him; it +was a monument raised by the nation to their hero, not a palace +to be built by their mutual contributions.</p> + +<p>Whether Marlborough found that his own million might +be slowly injured while the Treasury remained still obdurate, +or that the architect was still more and more involved, I +cannot tell; but in 1715, the workmen appear to have struck, +and the old delays and stand-still again renewed. It was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page105" id="page105"></a>105</span> +then Sir John, for the first time, produced the warrant he +had extracted from Lord Godolphin, to lay before the +Treasury; adding, however, a memorandum, to prevent any +misconception, that the duke was to be considered as the +paymaster, the debts incurred devolving on the crown. This +part of our secret history requires more development than I +am enabled to afford: as my information is drawn from “the +Case” of the Duke of Marlborough in reply to Sir John’s +depositions, it is possible Vanbrugh may suffer more than he +ought in this narration; which, however, incidentally notices +his own statements.</p> + +<p>A new scene opens! Vanbrugh not obtaining his claims +from the Treasury, and the workmen becoming more +clamorous, the architect suddenly turns round on the duke, +at once to charge him with the whole debt.</p> + +<p>The pitiable history of this magnificent monument of +public gratitude, from its beginnings, is given by Vanbrugh +in his deposition. The great architect represents himself as +being comptroller of her majesty’s works; and as such was +appointed to prepare a model, which model of Blenheim +House her majesty kept in her palace, and gave her commands +to issue money according to the direction of Mr. Travers, the +queen’s surveyor-general; that the lord treasurer appointed +her majesty’s own officers to supervise these works; that it +was upon defect of money from the Treasury that the workmen +grew uneasy; that the work was stopped, till further +orders of money from the Treasury; that the queen then +ordered enough to secure it from winter weather; that afterwards +she ordered more for payment of the workmen; that +they were paid in part; and upon Sir John’s telling them the +queen’s resolution to grant them a further supply (<i>after a +stop put to it by the duchess’s order</i>), they went on and +incurred the present debt; that this was afterwards brought +into the House of Commons as the debt of the crown, not +owing from the queen to the Duke of Marlborough, but to +the workmen, and this by the queen’s officers.</p> + +<p>During the uncertain progress of the building, and while +the workmen were often in deep arrears, it would seem that +the architect often designed to involve the Marlboroughs in +its fate and his own; he probably thought that some of their +round million might bear to be chipped, to finish his great +work, with which, too, their glory was so intimately +connected. The famous duchess had evidently put the duke +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page106" id="page106"></a>106</span> +on the defensive; but once, perhaps, was the duke on the +point of indulging some generous architectural fancy, when +lo! Atossa stepped forwards and “put a stop to the building.”</p> + +<p>When Vanbrugh at length produced the warrant of Lord +Godolphin, empowering him to contract for the duke, this +instrument was utterly disclaimed by Marlborough; the duke +declares it existed without his knowledge; and that if such an +instrument for a moment was to be held valid, no man would +be safe, but might be ruined by the act of another!</p> + +<p>Vanbrugh seems to have involved the intricacy of his plot, +till it fell into some contradictions. The queen he had not +found difficult to manage; but after her death, when the +Treasury failed in its golden source, he seems to have sat +down to contrive how to make the duke the great debtor. +Vanbrugh swears that “He himself looked upon the crown, +as engaged to the Duke of Marlborough for the expense; but +that he believes the workmen always looked upon the duke +as their paymaster.” He advances so far, as to swear that +he made a contract with particular workmen, which contract +was not unknown to the duke. This was not denied; but the +duke in his reply observes, that “he knew not that the workmen +were employed for <i>his</i> account, or by <i>his</i> own +agent:”—never having heard till Sir John produced the warrant from +Lord Godolphin, that Sir John was “his surveyor!” which +he disclaims.</p> + +<p>Our architect, however opposite his depositions appear, +contrived to become a witness to such facts as tended to conclude +the duke to be the debtor for the building; and “in his +depositions has taken as much care to have the guilt of perjury +without the punishment of it, as any man could do.” He so +managed, though he has not sworn to contradictions, that +the natural tendency of one part of his evidence presses one +way, and the natural tendency of another part presses the +direct contrary way. In his former memorial, the main +design was to disengage the duke from the debt; in his +depositions, the main design was to charge the duke with the +debt. Vanbrugh, it must be confessed, exerted not less of +his dramatic than his architectural genius in the building of +Blenheim!</p> + +<p>“The Case” concludes with an eloquent reflection, where +Vanbrugh is distinguished as the man of genius, though not, +in this predicament, the man of honour. “If at last the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page107" id="page107"></a>107</span> +charge run into by order of the crown must be upon the +duke, yet the infamy of it must go upon another, who was +perhaps the only architect in the world capable of building +such a house; and the only friend in the world capable of +contriving to lay the debt upon one to whom he was so +highly obliged.”</p> + +<p>There is a curious fact in the depositions of Vanbrugh, by +which we might infer that the idea of Blenheim House might +have originated with the duke himself; he swears that “in +1704, the duke met him, and told him <i>he</i> designed to build a +house, and must consult him about a model, &c.; but it was +the queen who ordered the present house to be built with all +expedition.”</p> + +<p>The whole conduct of this national edifice was unworthy +of the nation, if in truth the nation ever entered heartily into +it. No specific sum had been voted in parliament for so +great an undertaking; which afterwards was the occasion of +involving all the parties concerned in trouble and litigation; +threatened the ruin of the architect; and I think we shall see, +by Vanbrugh’s letters, was finished at the sole charge, and +even under the superintendence, of the duchess herself! It +may be a question, whether this magnificent monument of +glory did not rather originate in the spirit of party, in the +urgent desire of the queen to allay the pride and jealousies of +the Marlboroughs. From the circumstance to which Vanbrugh +has sworn, that the duke had designed to have a house +built by Vanbrugh, before Blenheim had been resolved on, +we may suppose that this intention of the duke’s afforded the +queen a suggestion of a national edifice.</p> + +<p>Archdeacon Coxe, in his Life of Marlborough, has obscurely +alluded to the circumstances attending the building of Blenheim. +“The illness of the duke, and the tedious litigation +which ensued, caused such delays, that little progress was +made in the work at the time of his decease. In the interim +a serious misunderstanding arose between the duchess and +the architect, which forms the subject of a voluminous correspondence. +Vanbrugh was in consequence removed, and +the direction of the building confided to other hands, under +her own immediate superintendence.”</p> + +<p>This “voluminous correspondence” would probably afford +“words that burn” of the lofty insolence of Atossa, and +“thoughts that breathe” of the comic wit; it might too relate, +in many curious points, to the stupendous fabric itself. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page108" id="page108"></a>108</span> +If her grace condescended to criticise its parts with the +frank roughness she is known to have done to the architect +himself, his own defence and explanations might serve to +let us into the bewildering fancies of his magical architecture. +Of that self-creation for which he was so much abused in his +own day as to have lost his real avocation as an architect, +and stands condemned for posterity in the volatile bitterness +of Lord Orford, nothing is left for us but our own convictions—to +behold, and to be for ever astonished!—But “this +voluminous correspondence?” Alas! the historian of war +and politics overlooks with contempt the little secret histories +of art and of human nature!—and “a voluminous +correspondence” which indicates so much, and on which not a +solitary idea is bestowed, has only served to petrify our +curiosity!</p> + +<p>Of this quarrel between the famous duchess and Vanbrugh +I have only recovered several vivacious extracts from confidential +letters of Vanbrugh’s to Jacob Tonson. There was +an equality of the genius of <i>invention</i>, as well as rancour, in +her grace and the wit: whether Atossa, like Vanbrugh, could +have had the patience to have composed a comedy of five +acts I will not determine; but unquestionably she could have +dictated many scenes with equal spirit. We have seen Vanbrugh +attempting to turn the debts incurred by the building +of Blenheim on the duke; we now learn, for the first time, +that the duchess, with equal aptitude, contrived a counterplot +to turn the debts on Vanbrugh!</p> + +<p>“I have the misfortune of losing, for I now see little hopes +of ever getting it, near 2000<i>l.</i> due to me for many years’ +service, plague, and trouble, at Blenheim, which that wicked +woman of ‘Marlborough’ is so far from paying me, that the +duke being sued by some of the workmen for work done there, +she has tried to turn the debt due to them upon me, for which +I think she ought to be hanged.”</p> + +<p>In 1722, on occasion of the duke’s death, Vanbrugh gives +an account to Tonson of the great wealth of the Marlboroughs, +with a caustic touch at his illustrious victims.</p> + +<p>“The Duke of Marlborough’s treasure exceeds the most +extravagant guess. The grand settlement, which it was suspected +her grace had broken to pieces, stands good, and hands +an immense wealth to Lord Godolphin and his successors. A +round million has been moving about in loans on the land-tax, +&c. This the Treasury knew before he died, and this +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page109" id="page109"></a>109</span> +was exclusive of his ‘land;’ his 5000<i>l.</i> a year upon the post-office; +his mortgages upon a distressed estate; his South-Sea +stock; his annuities, and which were not subscribed in, and +besides what is in foreign banks; and yet this man could +neither pay his workmen their bills, nor his architect his +salary.</p> + +<p>“He has given his widow (may a Scottish ensign get her!) +10,000<i>l.</i> a year <i>to spoil Blenheim her own way</i>; 12,000<i>l.</i> a +year to keep herself clean and go to law; 2000<i>l.</i> a year to +Lord Rialton for present maintenance; and Lord Godolphin +only 5000<i>l.</i> a year jointure, if he outlives my lady: this last +is a wretched article. The rest of the heap, for these are but +snippings, goes to Lord Godolphin, and so on. She will have +40,000<i>l.</i> a year in present.”</p> + +<p>Atossa, as the quarrel heated and the plot thickened, with +the maliciousness of Puck, and the haughtiness of an empress +of Blenheim, invented the most cruel insult that ever architect +endured!—one perfectly characteristic of that extraordinary +woman. Vanbrugh went to Blenheim with his lady, in +a company from Castle Howard, another magnificent monument +of his singular genius.</p> + +<p>“We staid two nights in Woodstock; but there was an +order to the servants, <i>under her grace’s own hand, not to let +me enter Blenheim</i>! and lest that should not mortify me +enough, she having somehow learned that my <i>wife</i> was of +the company, <i>sent an express the night before we came there</i>, +with orders that if <i>she</i> came with the Castle Howard ladies, +the servants should not suffer her to see either house, gardens, +or even to enter the park: so she was forced to sit all day +long and keep me company at the inn!”</p> + +<p>This was a <i>coup-de-théâtre</i> in this joint comedy of Atossa +and Vanbrugh! The architect of Blenheim, lifting his eyes +towards his own massive grandeur, exiled to a dull inn, and +imprisoned with one who required rather to be consoled, than +capable of consoling the enraged architect!</p> + +<p>In 1725, Atossa still pursuing her hunted prey, had driven +it to a spot which she flattered herself would enclose it with +the security of a preserve. This produced the following +explosion!</p> + +<p>“I have been forced into chancery by that B. B. B. the +Duchess of Marlborough, where she has got an injunction +upon me by her friend the late good chancellor (Earl of Macclesfield), +who declared that I was never employed by the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page110" id="page110"></a>110</span> +duke, and therefore had no demand upon his estate for my +services at Blenheim. Since my hands were thus tied up +from trying by law to recover my arrear, I have prevailed +with Sir Robert Walpole <i>to help me in a scheme which I proposed +to him, by which I got my money in spite of the hussy’s +teeth. My carrying this point enrages her much</i>, and the +more because it is of considerable weight in my small fortune, +which she has heartily endeavoured so to destroy as to throw +me into an English Bastile, there to finish my days, as <i>I +began them, in a French one</i>.”</p> + +<p>Plot for plot! and the superior claims of one of practised +invention are vindicated! The writer, long accustomed to +comedy-writing, has excelled the self-taught genius of Atossa. +The “scheme” by which Vanbrugh’s fertile invention, aided +by Sir Robert Walpole, finally circumvented the avaricious, +the haughty, and the capricious Atossa, remains untold, unless +it is alluded to by the passage in Lord Orford’s “Anecdotes +of Painting,” where he informs us that the “duchess quarrelled +with Sir John, and went to law with him; but though +he <i>proved to be in the right</i>, or rather <i>because</i> he proved to be +in the right, she employed Sir Christopher Wren to build +the house in St. James’s Park.”</p> + +<p>I have to add a curious discovery respecting Vanbrugh +himself, which explains a circumstance in his life not hitherto +understood.</p> + +<p>In all the biographies of Vanbrugh, from the time of +Cibber’s Lives of the Poets, the early part of the life of this +man of genius remains unknown. It is said he descended +from an ancient family in <i>Cheshire</i>, which came originally +from <i>France</i>, though by the name, which properly written +would be <i>Van Brugh</i>, he would appear to be of <i>Dutch</i> extraction. +A tale is universally repeated that Sir John once +visiting France in the prosecution of his architectural studies, +while taking a survey of some fortifications, excited alarm, +and was carried to the Bastile: where, to deepen the interest +of the story, he sketched a variety of comedies, which he +must have communicated to the governor, who, whispering it +doubtless as an affair of state to several of the noblesse, these +admirers of “sketches of comedies”—English ones no doubt—procured +the release of this English Molière. This tale is +further confirmed by a very odd circumstance. Sir John +built at Greenwich, on a spot still called “Van Brugh’s +Fields,” two whimsical houses; one on the side of Greenwich +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page111" id="page111"></a>111</span> +Park is still called “the Bastile-House,” built on its model, +to commemorate this imprisonment.</p> + +<p>Not a word of this detailed story is probably true! that +the <i>Bastile</i> was an object which sometimes occupied the imagination +of our architect, is probable; for by the letter we +have just quoted, we discover from himself the singular incident +of Vanbrugh’s having been <i>born in the Bastile</i>.<a name="FnAnchor_65" id="FnAnchor_65" href="#Footnote_65"><span class="sp">65</span></a></p> + +<p>Desirous, probably, of concealing his alien origin, this circumstance +cast his early days into obscurity. He felt that +he was a Briton in all respects but that of his singular birth. +The father of Vanbrugh married Sir Dudley Carleton’s +daughter. We are told he had “political connexions;” and +one of his “political” tours had probably occasioned his confinement +in that state-dungeon, where his lady was delivered +of her burden of love. This odd fancy of building a “Bastile-House” +at Greenwich, a fortified prison! suggested to +his first life-writer the fine romance; which must now be +thrown aside among those literary fictions the French distinguish +by the softening and yet impudent term of “<i>Anecdotes +hasardées!</i>” with which formerly Varillas and his imitators +furnished their pages; lies which looked like facts!</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_62" id="Footnote_62" href="#FnAnchor_62"><span class="fn">62</span></a> The name by which Pope ruthlessly satirized Sarah Duchess of +Marlborough.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_63" id="Footnote_63" href="#FnAnchor_63"><span class="fn">63</span></a> I draw the materials of this secret history from an unpublished +“Case of the Duke of Marlborough and Sir John Vanbrugh,” as also from +some confidential correspondence of Vanbrugh with Jacob Tonson, his friend +and publisher.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_64" id="Footnote_64" href="#FnAnchor_64"><span class="fn">64</span></a> Parliament voted 500,000<i>l.</i> for the building, which was insufficient. +The queen added thereto the honour of Woodstock, an appanage of the +crown, on the simple condition of rendering at Windsor Castle every year +on the anniversary of the victory of Blenheim, a flag adorned with three +fleur-de-lys, “as acquittance for all manner of rents, suits and services +due to the crown.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_65" id="Footnote_65" href="#FnAnchor_65"><span class="fn">65</span></a> Cunningham, in his “Lives of the British Architects,” does not incline +to the conclusions above drawn. He says, “I suspect that Vanbrugh, +in saying he began his days in the Bastile, meant only that he was +its tenant in early life—at the commencement of his manhood.” The +same author tells us that Vanbrugh’s grandfather fled from Ghent, his +native city, to avoid the persecutions of the Duke of Alva, and established +himself as a merchant in Walbrook, where his son lived after him, and +where John Vanbrugh (afterwards the great architect) was born in the +year 1666. His father was at this time Comptroller of the Treasury +Chamber. Cunningham thinks the Cheshire part of the genealogy “unlikely +to be true.”</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>SECRET HISTORY OF SIR WALTER RAWLEIGH.<a name="FnAnchor_66" id="FnAnchor_66" href="#Footnote_66"><span class="sp">66</span></a></h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Rawleigh</span> exercised in perfection incompatible talents, and +his character connects the opposite extremes of our nature! +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page112" id="page112"></a>112</span> +His “Book of Life,” with its incidents of prosperity and +adversity, of glory and humiliation, was as chequered as the +novelist would desire for a tale of fiction. Yet in this mighty +genius there lies an unsuspected disposition, which requires +to be demonstrated, before it is possible to conceive its reality. +From his earliest days, probably by his early reading of the +romantic incidents of the first Spanish adventurers in the +New World, he himself betrayed the genius of an <i>adventurer</i>, +which prevailed in his character to the latest; and it often +involved him in the practice of mean artifices and petty +deceptions; which appear like folly in the wisdom of a sage; +like ineptitude in the profound views of a politician; like +cowardice in the magnanimity of a hero; and degrade by +their littleness the grandeur of a character which was closed +by a splendid death, worthy the life of the wisest and the +greatest of mankind!</p> + +<p>The sunshine of his days was in the reign of Elizabeth. +From a boy, always dreaming of romantic conquests (for he +was born in an age of heroism), and formed by nature for the +chivalric gallantry of the court of a maiden queen, from the +moment he with such infinite art cast his rich mantle over +the miry spot, his life was a progress of glory. All about +Rawleigh was as splendid as the dress he wore: his female +sovereign, whose eyes loved to dwell on men who might have +been fit subjects for “the Faerie Queene” of Spenser, penurious +of reward, only recompensed her favourites by suffering +them to make their own fortunes on sea and land; and Elizabeth +listened to the glowing projects of her hero, indulging +that spirit which could have conquered the world, to have +laid the toy at the feet of the sovereign!</p> + +<p>This man, this extraordinary being, who was prodigal of +his life and fortune on the Spanish Main, in the idleness +of peace could equally direct his invention to supply the +domestic wants of every-day life, in his project of “an office +for address.” Nothing was too high for his ambition, nor +too humble for his genius. Pre-eminent as a military and a +naval commander, as a statesman and a student, Rawleigh +was as intent on forming the character of Prince Henry, as +that prince was studious of moulding his own aspiring qualities +by the genius of the friend whom he contemplated. Yet +the active life of Rawleigh is not more remarkable than his +contemplative one. He may well rank among the founders +of our literature; for composing on a subject exciting little +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page113" id="page113"></a>113</span> +interest, his fine genius has sealed his unfinished volume with +immortality. For magnificence of eloquence, and massiveness +of thought, we must still dwell on his pages.<a name="FnAnchor_67" id="FnAnchor_67" href="#Footnote_67"><span class="sp">67</span></a> Such +was the man who was the adored patron of Spenser; whom +Ben Jonson, proud of calling other favourites “his sons,” +honoured by the title of “his father;” and who left political +instructions which Milton deigned to edit.</p> + +<p>But how has it happened that, of so elevated a character, +Gibbon has pronounced that it was “ambiguous,” while it is +described by Hume as “a great but ill-regulated mind!”</p> + +<p>There was a peculiarity in the character of this eminent +man; he practised the cunning of an <i>adventurer</i>—a cunning +most humiliating in the narrative! The great difficulty to +overcome in this discovery is, how to account for a sage and +a hero acting folly and cowardice, and attempting to obtain +by circuitous deception what it may be supposed so magnanimous +a spirit would only deign to possess himself of by +direct and open methods.</p> + +<p>Since the present article was written, a letter, hitherto +unpublished, appears in the recent edition of Shakspeare +which curiously and minutely records one of those artifices +of the kind which I am about to narrate at length. When, +under Elizabeth, Rawleigh was once in confinement, it +appears that seeing the queen passing by, he was suddenly +seized with a strange resolution of combating with the +governor and his people, declaring that the mere <i>sight</i> of +the queen had made him desperate, as a confined lover would +feel at the sight of his mistress. The letter gives a minute +narrative of Sir Walter’s astonishing conduct, and carefully +repeats the warm romantic style in which he talked of his +royal mistress, and his formal resolution to die rather than +exist out of her presence.<a name="FnAnchor_68" id="FnAnchor_68" href="#Footnote_68"><span class="sp">68</span></a> This extravagant scene, with all +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page114" id="page114"></a>114</span> +its cunning, has been most elaborately penned by the ingenious +letter-writer, with a hint to the person whom he +addresses, to suffer it to meet the eye of their royal mistress, +who could not fail of admiring our new “Orlando Furioso,” +and soon after released this tender prisoner! To me it is +evident that the whole scene was got up and concerted for +the occasion, and was the invention of Rawleigh himself; +the romantic incident he well knew was perfectly adapted to +the queen’s taste. Another similar incident, in which I have +been anticipated in the disclosure of the fact, though not of +its nature, was what Sir Toby Matthews obscurely alludes to +in his letters, of “the guilty blow he gave himself in the +Tower;” a passage which had long excited my attention, till +I discovered the curious incident in some manuscript letters +of Lord Cecil. Rawleigh was then confined in the Tower for +the Cobham conspiracy; a plot so absurd and obscure that +one historian has called it a “state-riddle,” but for which, so +many years after, Rawleigh so cruelly lost his life.</p> + +<p>Lord Cecil gives an account of the examination of the +prisoners involved in this conspiracy. “One afternoon, whilst +divers of us were in the Tower examining some of these +prisoners, Sir Walter <i>attempted to murder himself</i>; whereof, +when we were advertised, we came to him, and found him in +some agony to be unable to endure his misfortunes, and protesting +innocency, with carelessness of life; and in that +humour <i>he had wounded himself under the right pap, but no +way mortally, being in truth rather a</i> <span class="sc">cut</span> <i>than a</i> <span class="sc">stab</span>, and now +very well cured both in body and mind.”<a name="FnAnchor_69" id="FnAnchor_69" href="#Footnote_69"><span class="sp">69</span></a> This feeble attempt +at suicide, this “cut rather than stab,” I must place among +those scenes in the life of Rawleigh so incomprehensible with +the genius of the man. If it were nothing but one of those</p> + +<p class="center1 f90">Fears of the Brave!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page115" id="page115"></a>115</span></p> + +<p class="noind">we must now open another of the</p> + +<p class="center1 f90">Follies of the Wise!</p> + +<p>Rawleigh returned from the wild and desperate voyage of +Guiana, with misery in every shape about him.<a name="FnAnchor_70" id="FnAnchor_70" href="#Footnote_70"><span class="sp">70</span></a> His son +had perished; his devoted Keymis would not survive his +reproach; and Rawleigh, without fortune and without hope, +in sickness and in sorrow, brooded over the sad thought, that +in the hatred of the Spaniard, and in the political pusillanimity +of James, he was arriving only to meet inevitable +death. With this presentiment, he had even wished to give +up his ship to the crew, had they consented to land him in +France; but he was probably irresolute in this decision at +sea, as he was afterwards at land, where he wished to escape, +and refused to fly: the clearest intellect was darkened, and +magnanimity itself became humiliated, floating between the +sense of honour and of life.</p> + +<p>Rawleigh landed in his native county of Devon: his arrival +was the common topic of conversation, and he was the object +of censure or of commiseration: but his person was not +molested, till the fears of James became more urgent than +his pity.</p> + +<p>The Cervantic Gondomar, whose “quips and quiddities” +had concealed the cares of state, one day rushed into the +presence of James, breathlessly calling out for “audience!” +and compressing his “ear-piercing” message into the laconic +abruptness of “piratas! piratas! piratas!” There was agony +as well as politics in this cry of Gondomar, whose brother, +the Spanish governor, had been massacred in this predatory +expedition.<a name="FnAnchor_71" id="FnAnchor_71" href="#Footnote_71"><span class="sp">71</span></a> The timid monarch, terrified at this tragical +appearance of his facetious friend, saw at once the demands +of the whole Spanish cabinet, and vented his palliative in a +gentle proclamation. Rawleigh having settled his affairs in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page116" id="page116"></a>116</span> +the west, set off for London to appear before the king, in +consequence of the proclamation. A few miles from Plymouth +he was met by Sir Lewis Stucley, vice-admiral of +Devon, a kinsman and a friend, who, in communication with +government, had accepted a sort of <i>surveillance</i> over Sir +Walter. It is said (and will be credited, when we hear the +story of Stucley), that he had set his heart on the <i>ship</i>, as a +probable good purchase; and on the <i>person</i>, against whom, +to colour his natural treachery, he professed an old hatred. +He first seized on Rawleigh more like the kinsman than the +vice-admiral, and proposed travelling together to London, and +baiting at the houses of the friends of Rawleigh. The warrant +which Stucley in the meanwhile had desired was instantly +despatched, and the bearer was one Manoury, a French empiric, +who was evidently sent to act the part he did—a part +played at all times, and the last title, in French politics, that +so often had recourse to this instrument of state, is a <i>Mouton</i>!</p> + +<p>Rawleigh still, however, was not placed under any harsh +restraint: his confidential associate, Captain King, accompanied +him; and it is probable, that if Rawleigh had effectuated +his escape, he would have conferred a great favour on +the government.</p> + +<p>They could not save him at London. It is certain that +he might have escaped; for Captain King had hired a vessel, +and Rawleigh had stolen out by night, and might have +reached it, but irresolutely returned home; another night, +the same vessel was ready, but Rawleigh never came! The +loss of his honour appeared the greater calamity.</p> + +<p>As he advanced in this eventful journey, everything assumed +a more formidable aspect. His friends communicated fearful +advices; a pursuivant, or king’s messenger, gave a more +menacing appearance; and suggestions arose in his own mind, +that he was reserved to become a victim of state. When +letters of commission from the Privy Council were brought +to Sir Lewis Stucley, Rawleigh was observed to change countenance, +exclaiming with an oath, “Is it possible my fortune +should return upon me thus again?” He lamented, before +Captain King, that he had neglected the opportunity of +escape; and which, every day he advanced inland, removed +him the more from any chance.</p> + +<p>Rawleigh at first suspected that Manoury was one of those +instruments of state who are sometimes employed when open +measures are not to be pursued, or when the cabinet have not +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page117" id="page117"></a>117</span> +yet determined on the fate of a person implicated in a state +crime; in a word, Rawleigh thought that Manoury was a spy +over him, and probably over Stucley too. The first impression +in these matters is usually the right one; but when +Rawleigh found himself caught in the toils, he imagined that +such corrupt agents were to be corrupted. The French empiric +was sounded, and found very compliant; Rawleigh was +desirous by his aid to counterfeit sickness, and for this purpose +invented a series of the most humiliating stratagems. +He imagined that a constant appearance of sickness might +produce delay, and procrastination, in the chapter of accidents, +might end in pardon. He procured vomits from the Frenchman, +and, whenever he chose, produced every appearance of +sickness; with dimness of sight, dizziness in his head, he +reeled about, and once struck himself with such violence +against a pillar in the gallery, that there was no doubt of his +malady. Rawleigh’s servant one morning entering Stucley’s +chamber, declared that his master was out of his senses, for +that he had just left him in his shirt upon all fours, gnawing +the rushes upon the floor. On Stucley’s entrance, Rawleigh +was raving, and reeling in strong convulsions. Stucley ordered +him to be chafed and fomented, and Rawleigh afterwards +laughed at this scene with Manoury, observing that he had +made Stucley a perfect physician.</p> + +<p>But Rawleigh found it required some more visible and +alarming disease than such ridiculous scenes had exhibited. +The vomits worked so slowly, that Manoury was fearful to +repeat the doses. Rawleigh inquired whether the empiric +knew of any preparation which could make him look ghastly, +without injuring his health. The Frenchman offered a harmless +ointment to act on the surface of the skin, which would +give him the appearance of a leper. “That will do!” said +Rawleigh, “for the lords will be afraid to approach me, and +besides it will move their pity.” Applying the ointment +to his brows, his arms, and his breast, the blisters rose, the +skin inflamed, and was covered with purple spots. Stucley +concluded that Rawleigh had the plague. Physicians were +now to be called in; Rawleigh took the black silk ribbon +from his poniard, and Manoury tightened it strongly about +his arm, to disorder his pulse; but his pulse beat too strong +and regular. He appeared to take no food, while Manoury +secretly provided him. To perplex the learned doctors still +more, Rawleigh had the urinal coloured by a drug of a strong +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page118" id="page118"></a>118</span> +scent. The physicians pronounced the disease mortal, and +that the patient could not be removed into the air without +immediate danger. Awhile after, being in his bed-chamber +undressed, and no one present but Manoury, Sir Walter held +a looking-glass in his hand to admire his spotted face,<a name="FnAnchor_72" id="FnAnchor_72" href="#Footnote_72"><span class="sp">72</span></a> and +observed in merriment to his new confidant, “how they +should one day laugh for having thus cozened the king, +council, physicians, Spaniards, and all.” The excuse Rawleigh +offered for this course of poor stratagems, so unworthy +of his genius, was to obtain time and seclusion for writing +his Apology, or Vindication of his Voyage, which has come +down to us in his “Remains.” “The prophet David did +make himself a fool, and suffered spittle to fall upon his +beard, to escape from the hands of his enemies,” said Rawleigh +in his last speech. Brutus, too, was another example. +But his discernment often prevailed over this mockery of his +spirit. The king licensed him to reside at his own house on +his arrival in London; on which Manoury observed that the +king showed by this indulgence that his majesty was favourably +inclined towards him; but Rawleigh replied, “They used +all these kinds of flatteries to the Duke of Biron, to draw +him fairly into prison, and then they cut off his head. I +know they have concluded among them that it is expedient +that a man should die, to re-assure the traffick which I have +broke with Spain.” And Manoury adds, from whose narrative +we have all these particulars, that Sir Walter broke out +into this rant: “If he could but save himself for this time, +he would plot such plots as should make the king think himself +happy to send for him again, and restore him to his +estate, and would force the King of Spain to write into +England in his favour.”</p> + +<p>Rawleigh at length proposed a flight to France with +Manoury, who declares it was then he revealed to Stucley +what he had hitherto concealed, that Stucley might double +his vigilance. Rawleigh now perceived that he had two +rogues to bribe instead of one, and that they were playing +into one another’s hands. Proposals are now made to Stucley +through Manoury, who is as compliant as his brother-knave. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page119" id="page119"></a>119</span> +Rawleigh presented Stucley with a “jewel made in the fashion +of hail powdered with diamonds, with a ruby in the midst.” +But Stucley observing to his kinsman and friend, that he +must lose his office of vice-admiral, which had cost him six +hundred pounds, in case he suffered Rawleigh to escape; +Rawleigh solemnly assured him that he should be no loser, +and that his lady should give him one thousand pounds when +they got into France or Holland. About this time the +French quack took his leave: the part he had to act was performed: +the juggle was complete: and two wretches had +triumphed over the sagacity and magnanimity of a sage +and a hero, whom misfortune had levelled to folly; and who, +in violating the dignity of his own character, had only +equalled himself with vulgar knaves; men who exulted that +the circumventer was circumvented; or, as they expressed it, +“the great cozener was cozened.” But our story does not here +conclude, for the treacheries of Stucley were more intricate. +This perfect villain had obtained a warrant of indemnity to +authorise his compliance with any offer to assist Rawleigh in +his escape; this wretch was the confidant and the executioner +of Rawleigh; he carried about him a license to betray him, +and was making his profit of the victim before he delivered +him to the sacrifice. Rawleigh was still plotting his escape; +at Salisbury he had despatched his confidential friend Captain +King to London, to secure a boat at Tilbury; he had also a +secret interview with the French agent. Rawleigh’s servant +mentioned to Captain King, that his boatswain had a ketch<a name="FnAnchor_73" id="FnAnchor_73" href="#Footnote_73"><span class="sp">73</span></a> +of his own, and was ready at his service for “thirty pieces of +silver;” the boatswain and Rawleigh’s servant acted Judas, +and betrayed the plot to Mr. William Herbert, cousin to +Stucley, and thus the treachery was kept among themselves +as a family concern. The night for flight was now fixed, +but he could not part without his friend Stucley, who had +promised never to quit him; and who indeed, informed by +his cousin Herbert, had suddenly surprised Rawleigh putting +on a false beard. The party met at the appointed place; Sir +Lewis Stucley with his son, and Rawleigh disguised. Stucley, +in saluting King, asked whether he had not shown himself +an honest man? King hoped he would continue so. They +had not rowed twenty strokes, before the watermen observed, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page120" id="page120"></a>120</span> +that Mr. Herbert had lately taken boat, and made towards +the bridge, but had returned down the river after them. +Rawleigh instantly expressed his apprehensions, and wished +to return home; he consulted King—the watermen took +fright—Stucley acted his part well; damning his ill-fortune +to have a friend whom he would save, so full of doubts and +fears, and threatening to pistol the watermen if they did not +proceed. Even King was overcome by the earnest conduct +of Stucley, and a new spirit was infused into the rowers. As +they drew near Greenwich a wherry crossed them. Rawleigh +declared it came to discover them. King tried to allay his +fears, and assured him that if once they reached Gravesend, +he would hazard his life to get to Tilbury. But in these +delays and discussions, the tide was failing; the watermen +declared they could not reach Gravesend before morning; +Rawleigh would have landed at Purfleet, and the boatswain +encouraged him; for there it was thought he could procure +horses for Tilbury. Sir Lewis Stucley too was zealous; and +declared he was content to carry the cloak-bag on his own +shoulders, for half-a-mile, but King declared that it was +useless, they could not at that hour get horses to go by +land.</p> + +<p>They rowed a mile beyond Woolwich, approaching two or +three ketches, when the boatswain doubted whether any of +these were the one he had provided to furnish them. “We +are betrayed!” cried Rawleigh, and ordered the watermen to +row back: he strictly examined the boatswain; alas! his +ingenuity was baffled by a shuffling villain, whose real answer +appeared when a wherry hailed the boat: Rawleigh +observed that it contained Herbert’s crew. He saw that all +was now discovered. He took Stucley aside; his ingenious +mind still suggesting projects for himself to return home in +safety, or how Stucley might plead that he had only pretended +to go with Rawleigh, to seize on his private papers. +They whispered together, and Rawleigh took some things +from his pocket, and handed them to Stucley; probably more +“rubies powdered with diamonds.”—Some effect was instantaneously +produced; for the tender heart of his friend +Stucley relented, and he not only repeatedly embraced him +with extraordinary warmth of affection, but was voluble in +effusions of friendship and fidelity. Stucley persuaded Rawleigh +to land at Gravesend, the strange wherry which had +dogged them landing at the same time; these were people +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page121" id="page121"></a>121</span> +belonging to Mr. Herbert and Sir William St. John, who, it +seems, had formerly shared in the spoils of this unhappy hero. +On Greenwich bridge, Stucley advised Captain King that it +would be advantageous to Sir Walter, that King should +confess that he had joined with Stucley to betray his master; +and Rawleigh lent himself to the suggestion of Stucley, of +whose treachery he might still be uncertain; but King, a +rough and honest seaman, declared that he would not share +in the odium. At the moment he refused, Stucley arrested +the captain in the king’s name, committing him to the charge +of Herbert’s men. They then proceeded to a tavern, but +Rawleigh, who now viewed the monster in his true shape, +observed, “Sir Lewis, these actions will not turn out to your +credit;” and on the following day, when they passed through +the Tower-gate, Rawleigh, turning to King, observed, +“Stucley and my servant Cotterell have betrayed me. You +need be in no fear of danger, but as for me, it is I who am +the mark that is shot at.” Thus concludes the narrative of +Captain King. The fate of Rawleigh soon verified the prediction.</p> + +<p>This long narrative of treachery will not, however, be +complete, unless we wind it up with the fate of the infamous +Stucley. Fiction gives perfection to its narratives, by the +privilege it enjoys of disposing of its criminals in the most +exemplary manner; but the labours of the historian are not +always refreshed by this moral pleasure. Retribution is not +always discovered in the present stage of human existence, +yet history is perhaps equally delightful as fiction, whenever +its perfect catastrophes resemble those of romantic invention. +The present is a splendid example.</p> + +<p>I have discovered the secret history of Sir Lewis Stucley, +in several manuscript letters of the times.</p> + +<p>Rawleigh, in his admirable address from the scaffold, where +he seemed to be rather one of the spectators than the sufferer, +declared he forgave Sir Lewis, for he had forgiven all +men; but he was bound in charity to caution all men against +him, and such as he is! Rawleigh’s last and solemn notice +of the treachery of his “kinsman and friend” was irrevocably +fatal to this wretch. The hearts of the people were +open to the deepest impressions of sympathy, melting into +tears at the pathetic address of the magnanimous spirit who +had touched them; in one moment Sir Lewis Stucley became +an object of execration throughout the nation; he soon obtained +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page122" id="page122"></a>122</span> +a new title, that of “Sir Judas,” and was shunned by +every man. To remove the Cain-like mark, which God and +men had fixed on him, he published an apology for his conduct; +a performance which, at least for its ability, might +raise him in our consideration; but I have since discovered, in +one of the manuscript letter-writers, that it was written by +Dr. Sharpe, who had been a chaplain to Henry Prince of +Wales. The writer pleads in Stucley’s justification, that he +was a state-agent; that it was lawful to lie for the discovery +of treason; that he had a personal hatred towards Rawleigh, +for having abridged his father of his share of some prize-money; +and then enters more into Rawleigh’s character, who +“being desperate of any fortune here, agreeable to the height +of his mind, would have made up his fortune elsewhere, upon +any terms against his sovereign and his country. Is it not +marvel,” continues the personifier of Stucley, “that he was +angry with me at his death for bringing him back? Besides, +being a man of so great a wit, it was no small grief +that a man of mean wit as I should be thought to go beyond +him. No? <i>Sic ars deluditur arte. Neque enim lex justior +ulla est quam necis artifices arte perire suâ.</i> [This apt +latinity betrays Dr. Sharpe.] But why did you not execute +your commission bravely [openly]?—Why? My commission +was to the contrary, to discover his pretensions, and to +seize his secret papers,” &c.<a name="FnAnchor_74" id="FnAnchor_74" href="#Footnote_74"><span class="sp">74</span></a></p> + +<p>But the doctor, though no unskilful writer, here wrote in +vain; for what ingenuity can veil the turpitude of long and +practised treachery? To keep up appearances, Sir Judas resorted +more than usually to court; where, however, he was +perpetually enduring rebuffs, or avoided, as one infected with +the plague of treachery. He offered the king, in his own +justification, to take the sacrament, that whatever he had laid +to Rawleigh’s charge was true, and would produce two unexceptionable +witnesses to do the like. “Why, then,” replied +his majesty, “the more malicious was Sir Walter to +utter these speeches at his death.” Sir Thomas Badger, who +stood by, observed, “Let the king take off Stucley’s head, as +Stucley has done Sir Walter’s, and let him at his death take +the sacrament and his oath upon it, and I’ll believe him; but +till Stucley loses his head, I shall credit Sir Walter Rawleigh’s +bare affirmative before a thousand of Stucley’s oaths.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page123" id="page123"></a>123</span> +When Stucley, on pretence of giving an account of his office, +placed himself in the audience chamber of the lord admiral, +and his lordship passed him without any notice, Sir Judas +attempted to address the earl; but with a bitter look his +lordship exclaimed—“Base fellow! darest thou, who art the +scorn and contempt of men, offer thyself in my presence? +Were it not in my own house, I would cudgel thee with my +staff for presuming on this sauciness.” This annihilating +affront Stucley hastened to convey to the king; his majesty +answered him—“What wouldst thou have me do? Wouldst +thou have me hang him? Of my soul, if I should hang all +that speak ill of thee, all the trees of the country would not +suffice, so great is the number!”</p> + +<p>One of the frequent crimes of that age, ere the forgery of +bank-notes existed, was the clipping of gold; and this was +one of the private amusements suitable to the character of +our Sir Judas. Treachery and forgery are the same crime in +a different form. Stucley received out of the exchequer five +hundred pounds, as the reward of his <i>espionnage</i> and perfidy. +It was the price of blood, and was hardly in his hands ere it +was turned into the fraudulent coin of “the cheater!” He +was seized on in the palace of Whitehall, for diminishing the +gold coin. “The manner of the discovery,” says the manuscript-writer, +“was strange, if my occasions would suffer me +to relate the particulars.” On his examination he attempted +to shift the crime to his own son, who had fled; and on his +man, who, being taken, in the words of the letter-writer, was +“willing to set the saddle upon the right horse, and accused +his master.” Manoury, too, the French empiric, was arrested +at Plymouth for the same crime, and accused his +worthy friend. But such was the interest of Stucley with +government, bought, probably, with his last shilling, and, as +one says, with his last shirt, that he obtained his own and +his son’s pardon, for a crime that ought to have finally concluded +the history of this blessed family.<a name="FnAnchor_75" id="FnAnchor_75" href="#Footnote_75"><span class="sp">75</span></a> A more solemn +and tragical catastrophe was reserved for the perfidious Stucley. +He was deprived of his place of vice-admiral, and left +destitute in the world. Abandoned by all human beings, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page124" id="page124"></a>124</span> +most probably by the son whom he had tutored in the arts +of villany, he appears to have wandered about, an infamous +and distracted beggar. It is possible that even so seared a +conscience may have retained some remaining touch of sensibility.</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + + <p class="i7">All are men,</p> + <p class="i1">Condemned alike to groan;</p> +<p>The tender for another’s pain,</p> + <p class="i1 sc">The unfeeling for his own.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">And Camden has recorded, among his historical notes on +James the First, that in August, 1620, “Lewis Stucley, who +betrayed Sir Walter Rawleigh, died in a manner mad.” Such +is the catastrophe of one of the most perfect domestic tales; +an historical example, not easily paralleled, of moral retribution.</p> + +<p>The secret practices of the “Sir Judas” of the court of +James the First, which I have discovered, throw light on an +old tradition which still exists in the neighbourhood of Affeton, +once the residence of this wretched man. The country +people have long entertained a notion that a hidden treasure +lies at the bottom of a well in his grounds, guarded by some +supernatural power: a tradition no doubt originating in this +man’s history, and an obscure allusion to the gold which +Stucley received for his bribe, or the other gold which he +clipped, and might have there concealed. This is a striking +instance of the many historical facts which, though entirely +unknown or forgotten, may be often discovered to lie hid, or +disguised, in popular traditions.</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_66" id="Footnote_66" href="#FnAnchor_66"><span class="fn">66</span></a> Rawleigh, as was much practised to a much later period, wrote his +name various ways. I have discovered at least how it was pronounced in +his time—thus, <i>Rawly</i>. This may be additionally confirmed by the Scottish +poet Drummond, who spells it (in his conversations with Ben Jonson) +<i>Raughley</i>. The translation of Ortelius’ “Epitome of the Worlde,” 1603, +is dedicated to Sir Walter <i>Rawleigh</i>. See vol. ii. p. 261, art. “Orthography +of Proper Names.” It was also written <i>Rawly</i> by his contemporaries. +He sometimes wrote it <i>Ralegh</i>, the last syllable probably pronounced +<i>ly</i>, or <i>lay</i>. <i>Ralegh</i> appears on his official seal.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_67" id="Footnote_67" href="#FnAnchor_67"><span class="fn">67</span></a> I shall give in the article “Literary Unions” a curious account how +“Rawleigh’s History of the World” was composed, which has hitherto +escaped discovery.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_68" id="Footnote_68" href="#FnAnchor_68"><span class="fn">68</span></a> It is narrated in a letter to Sir Robert Cecil from Mr. (afterwards Sir) +Arthur Gorges, and runs as follows:—“Upon a report of her majesty’s +being at Sir George Carew’s, Sir W. Ralegh having gazed and sighed a long +time at his study window, from whence he might discern the barges and +boats about the Blackfriars stairs, suddenly brake out into a great distemper, +and sware that his enemies had on purpose brought her majesty +thither to break his gall in sunder with Tantalus’s torments, that when +she went away he might see death before his eyes; with many such like +conceits. And, as a man transported with passion, he sware to Sir +George Carew that he would disguise himself, and get into a pair of oars +to ease his mind but with a sight of the queen, or else he protested his +heart would break.” This of course the gaoler refused, and so they +fell to fighting, “scrambling and brawling like madmen,” until parted by +Gorges. Sir Walter followed up his absurdity by another letter to Cecil, +couched in the language of romance, in which he declares that, while the +queen “was yet near at hand, that I might hear of her once in two or three +days my sorrows were the less, but now my heart is cast into the depth of +all misery.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_69" id="Footnote_69" href="#FnAnchor_69"><span class="fn">69</span></a> These letters were written by Lord Cecil to Sir Thomas Parry, our +ambassador in France, and were transcribed from the copy-book of Sir +Thomas Parry’s correspondence which is preserved in the Pepysian library +at Cambridge.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_70" id="Footnote_70" href="#FnAnchor_70"><span class="fn">70</span></a> He had undertaken the expedition immediately upon his release from +the Tower in 1617. The king had never pardoned him, and his release +was effected by bribing powerful court favourites, who worked upon the +avarice of James I. by leading him to hope for the possession of Guiana, +which, though discovered by the Spaniards, had never been conquered by +them; and which Rawleigh promised to colonise.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_71" id="Footnote_71" href="#FnAnchor_71"><span class="fn">71</span></a> This occurred during the attack on the town of St. Thomas; a settlement +of the Spaniards near the gold mines. It ended disastrously to +Rawleigh: his ships mutinied; and he never recovered his ill-fortune; +but sailed to Newfoundland, and thence, after a second mutiny, returned +to Plymouth.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_72" id="Footnote_72" href="#FnAnchor_72"><span class="fn">72</span></a> A friend informs me, that he saw recently at a print-dealer’s a <i>painted +portrait of Sir Walter Rawleigh, with the face thus spotted</i>. It is extraordinary +that any artist should have chosen such a subject for his pencil; +but should this be a portrait of the times, it shows that this strange stratagem +had excited public attention.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_73" id="Footnote_73" href="#FnAnchor_73"><span class="fn">73</span></a> A small coasting-vessel, made round at stem and stern like the Dutch +boats. The word is still used in some English counties to denote a +<i>tub</i>.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_74" id="Footnote_74" href="#FnAnchor_74"><span class="fn">74</span></a> Stucley’s Humble Petition, touching the bringing up Sir W. Rawleigh, +4to. 1618; republished in Somers’ Tracts, vol. iii. 751.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_75" id="Footnote_75" href="#FnAnchor_75"><span class="fn">75</span></a> The anecdotes respecting Stucley I have derived from manuscript +letters, and they were considered to be of so dangerous a nature, that the +writer recommends secrecy, and requests, after reading, that “they may +be burnt.” With such injunctions I have generally found that the letters +were the more carefully preserved.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>AN AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE OF THE LAST HOURS OF<br /> +SIR WALTER RAWLEIGH.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">The</span> close of the life of Sir Walter Rawleigh was as extraordinary +as many parts of his varied history; the promptitude +and sprightliness of his genius, his carelessness of life, and +the equanimity of this great spirit in quitting the world, can +only be paralleled by a few other heroes and sages. Rawleigh +was both! But it is not simply his dignified yet active +conduct on the scaffold, nor his admirable speech on that +occasion, circumstances by which many great men are judged, +when their energies are excited for a moment to act so great +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page125" id="page125"></a>125</span> +a part, before the eyes of the world assembled at their feet; +it is not these only which claim our notice.</p> + +<p>We may pause with admiration on the real grandeur of +Rawleigh’s character, not from a single circumstance, however +great, but from a tissue of continued little incidents, which +occurred from the moment of his condemnation till he laid +his head on the block. Rawleigh was a man of such mark, +that he deeply engaged the attention of his contemporaries; +and to this we owe the preservation of several interesting +particulars of what he did and what he said, which have +entered into his life; but all has not been told in the published +narratives. Contemporary writers in their letters have +set down every fresh incident, and eagerly caught up his +sense, his wit, and, what is more delightful, those marks of +the natural cheerfulness of his invariable presence of mind: +nor could these have arisen from any affectation or parade, for +we shall see that they served him even in his last tender farewell +to his lady, and on many unpremeditated occasions.</p> + +<p>I have drawn together into a short compass all the facts +which my researches have furnished, not omitting those which +are known, concerning the feelings and conduct of Rawleigh +at these solemn moments of his life; to have preserved only +the new would have been to mutilate the statue, and to injure +the whole by an imperfect view.</p> + +<p>Rawleigh one morning was taken out of his bed, in a fit of +fever, and unexpectedly hurried, not to his trial, but to a sentence +of death. The story is well known.—Yet pleading +with “a voice grown weak by sickness and an ague he had at +that instant on him,” he used every means to avert his fate: +he did, therefore, value the life he could so easily part with. +His judges, there, at least, respected their state criminal, and +they addressed him in a tone far different from that which he +had fifteen years before listened to from Coke. Yelverton, the +attorney-general, said—“Sir Walter Rawleigh hath been as +a star at which the world have gazed; but stars may fall, nay, +they must fall, when they trouble the sphere where they +abide.” And the lord chief-justice noticed Rawleigh’s great +work:—“I know that you have been valiant and wise, and I +doubt not but you retain both these virtues, for now you shall +have occasion to use them. Your book is an admirable work; +I would give you counsel, but I know you can apply unto +yourself far better than I am able to give you.” But the +judge ended with saying, “execution is granted.” It was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page126" id="page126"></a>126</span> +stifling Rawleigh with roses! the heroic sage felt as if listening +to fame from the voice of death.</p> + +<p>He declared that now being old, sickly, and in disgrace, +and “certain were he allowed to live, to go to it again, life +was wearisome to him, and all he entreated was to have leave +to speak freely at his farewell, to satisfy the world that he +was ever loyal to the king, and a true lover of the commonwealth; +for this he would seal with his blood.”</p> + +<p>Rawleigh, on his return to his prison, while some were +deploring his fate, observed that “the world itself is but +a larger prison, out of which some are daily selected for +execution.”</p> + +<p>That last night of his existence was occupied by writing +what the letter-writer calls “a remembrancer to be left with +his lady, to acquaint the world with his sentiments, should he +be denied their delivery from the scaffold, as he had been at +the bar of the King’s Bench.” His lady visited him that +night, and amidst her tears acquainted him that she had +obtained the favour of disposing of his body; to which he +answered smiling, “It is well, Bess, that thou mayst dispose of +that, dead, thou hadst not always the disposing of when it was +alive.” At midnight he entreated her to leave him. It must +have been then, that, with unshaken fortitude, Rawleigh sat +down to compose those verses on his death, which being short, +the most appropriate may be repeated.</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Even such is Time, that takes on trust</p> + <p class="i1">Our youth, our joys, our all we have,</p> +<p>And pays us but with age and dust;</p> + <p class="i1">Who in the dark and silent grave,</p> +<p>When we have wandered all our ways,</p> +<p>Shuts up the story of our days!</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">He has added two other lines expressive of his trust in his +resurrection. Their authenticity is confirmed by the writer of +the present letter, as well as another writer, enclosing “half +a dozen verses, which Sir Walter made the night before his +death, to take his farewell of poetry, wherein he had been a +scribbler even from his youth.” The enclosure is not now +with the letter. Chamberlain, the writer, was an intelligent +man of the world, but not imbued with any deep tincture of +literature. On the same night Rawleigh wrote this distich +on the candle burning dimly:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Cowards fear to die; but courage stout,</p> +<p>Rather than live in snuff, will be put out.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page127" id="page127"></a>127</span></p> + +<p class="noind">At this solemn moment, before he lay down to rest, and at the +instant of parting from his lady, with all his domestic affections +still warm, to express his feelings in verse was with him +a natural effusion, and one to which he had long been used. +It is peculiar in the fate of Rawleigh, that having before +suffered a long imprisonment with an expectation of a public +death, his mind had been accustomed to its contemplation, +and had often dwelt on the event which was now passing. The +soul, in its sudden departure, and its future state, is often the +subject of his few poems; that most original one of “The +Farewell,”</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Go, soul! the body’s guest,</p> +<p>Upon a thankless errand, &c.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">is attributed to Rawleigh, though on uncertain evidence. +But another, entitled “The Pilgrimage,” has this beautiful +passage:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Give me my scallop-shell of quiet,</p> + <p class="i1">My staff of truth to walk upon,</p> +<p>My scrip of joy immortal diet;</p> + <p class="i1">My bottle of salvation;</p> +<p>My gown of glory, Hope’s true gage,</p> +<p>And thus I’ll take my pilgrimage—</p> + +<p class="s">Whilst my soul, like a quiet palmer,</p> + <p class="i1">Travelleth towards the land of Heaven—</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Rawleigh’s cheerfulness was so remarkable, and his fearlessness +of death so marked, that the Dean of Westminster, who +attended him, at first wondering at the hero, reprehended the +lightness of his manner, but Rawleigh gave God thanks that +he had never feared death, for it was but an opinion and an +imagination; and as for the manner of death, he would rather +die so than of a burning fever; and that some might have +made shows outwardly, but he felt the joy within. The dean +says, that he made no more of his death than if he had +been to take a journey: “Not,” said he, “but that I am a +great sinner, for I have been a soldier, a seaman, and a +courtier.” The writer of a manuscript letter tells us, that +the dean declared he died not only religiously, but he +found him to be a man as ready and as able to give as to take +instruction.</p> + +<p>On the morning of his death he smoked, as usual, his favourite +tobacco, and when they brought him a cup of excellent +sack, being asked how he liked it, Rawleigh answered—“As +the fellow, that, drinking of St. Giles’s bowl, as he went to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page128" id="page128"></a>128</span> +Tyburn, said, ‘that was good drink if a man might tarry by +it.’”<a name="FnAnchor_76" id="FnAnchor_76" href="#Footnote_76"><span class="sp">76</span></a> The day before, in passing from Westminster Hall to +the Gate-house, his eye had caught Sir Hugh Beeston in the +throng, and calling on him, Rawleigh requested that he would +see him die to-morrow. Sir Hugh, to secure himself a seat on +the scaffold, had provided himself with a letter to the sheriff, +which was not read at the time, and Sir Walter found his +friend thrust by, lamenting that he could not get there. +“Farewell!” exclaimed Rawleigh, “I know not what shift +you will make, but I am sure to have a place.” In going +from the prison to the scaffold, among others who were pressing +hard to see him, one old man, whose head was bald, came +very forward, insomuch that Rawleigh noticed him, and asked +“whether he would have aught of him?” The old man +answered—“Nothing but to see him, and to pray God for +him.” Rawleigh replied—“I thank thee, good friend, and +I am sorry I have no better thing to return thee for thy good +will.” Observing his bald head, he continued, “but take +this night-cap (which was a very rich wrought one that he +wore), for thou hast more need of it now than I.”</p> + +<p>His dress, as was usual with him, was elegant, if not rich.<a name="FnAnchor_77" id="FnAnchor_77" href="#Footnote_77"><span class="sp">77</span></a> +Oldys describes it, but mentions, that “he had a wrought +nightcap under his hat;” this we have otherwise disposed of; +he wore a ruff-band, a black wrought velvet night-gown over +a hare-coloured satin doublet, and a black wrought waistcoat; +black cut taffety breeches, and ash-coloured silk stockings.</p> + +<p>He ascended the scaffold with the same cheerfulness as he +had passed to it; and observing the lords seated at a distance, +some at windows, he requested they would approach him, as +he wished that they should all witness what he had to say. +The request was complied with by several. His speech is +well known; but some copies contain matters not in others. +When he finished, he requested Lord Arundel that the king +would not suffer any libels to defame him after death.—“And +now I have a long journey to go, and must take my leave.” +“He embraced all the lords and other friends with such +courtly compliments, as if he had met them at some feast,” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page129" id="page129"></a>129</span> +says a letter-writer. Having taken off his gown, he called to +the headsman to show him the axe, which not being instantly +done, he repeated, “I prithee let me see it, dost thou think +that I am afraid of it?” He passed the edge lightly over +his finger, and smiling, observed to the sheriff, “This is a +sharp medicine, but a sound cure for all diseases,” and kissing +it laid it down. Another writer has, “This is that that will +cure all sorrows.” After this he went to three several +corners of the scaffold, and kneeling down, desired all the +people to pray for him, and recited a long prayer to himself. +When he began to fit himself for the block, he first laid himself +down to try how the block fitted him; after rising up, +the executioner kneeled down to ask his forgiveness, which +Rawleigh with an embrace gave, but entreated him not to +strike till he gave a token by lifting up his hand, “<i>and then, +fear not, but strike home!</i>” When he laid his head down to +receive the stroke, the executioner desired him to lay his face +towards the east. “It was no great matter which way a +man’s head stood, so that the heart lay right,” said Rawleigh; +but these were not his last words. He was once more to +speak in this world with the same intrepidity he had lived in +it—for, having lain some minutes on the block in prayer, he +gave the signal; but the executioner, either unmindful, or in +fear, failed to strike, and Rawleigh, after once or twice +putting forth his hands, was compelled to ask him, “Why +dost thou not strike? Strike! man!” In two blows he was +beheaded; but from the first his body never shrunk from the +spot by any discomposure of his posture, which, like his mind, +was immovable.</p> + +<p>“In all the time he was upon the scaffold, and before,” +says one of the manuscript letter-writers, “there appeared +not the least alteration in him, either in his voice or countenance; +but he seemed as free from all manner of apprehension +as if he had been come thither rather to be a spectator than +a sufferer; nay, the beholders seemed much more sensible than +did he, so that he hath purchased here in the opinion of men +such honour and reputation, as it is thought his greatest +enemies are they that are most sorrowful for his death, which +they see is like to turn so much to his advantage.”</p> + +<p>The people were deeply affected at the sight, and so much, +that one said that “we had not such another head to cut off;” +and another “wished the head and brains to be upon Secretary +Naunton’s shoulders.” The observer suffered for this; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page130" id="page130"></a>130</span> +he was a wealthy citizen, and great newsmonger, and one +who haunted Paul’s Walk. Complaint was made, and the +citizen was summoned to the Privy Council. He pleaded +that he intended no disrespect to Mr. Secretary, but only +spoke in reference to the old proverb, that “two heads were +better than one!” His excuse was allowed at the moment; +but when afterwards called on for a contribution to St. Paul’s +Cathedral, and having subscribed a hundred pounds, the +Secretary observed to him, that “two are better than one, +Mr. Wiemark!” Either from fear or charity, the witty +citizen doubled his subscription.<a name="FnAnchor_78" id="FnAnchor_78" href="#Footnote_78"><span class="sp">78</span></a></p> + +<p>Thus died this glorious and gallant cavalier, of whom +Osborne says, “His death was managed by him with so high +and religious a resolution, as if a Roman had acted a Christian, +or rather a Christian a Roman.”<a name="FnAnchor_79" id="FnAnchor_79" href="#Footnote_79"><span class="sp">79</span></a></p> + +<p>After having read the preceding article, we are astonished +at the greatness, and the variable nature of this extraordinary +man and this happy genius. With Gibbon, who once meditated +to write his life, we may pause, and pronounce “his +character ambiguous;” but we shall not hesitate to decide +that Rawleigh knew better how to die than to live. “His +glorious hours,” says a contemporary, “were his arraignment +and execution;” but never will be forgotten the intermediate +years of his lettered imprisonment; the imprisonment of the +learned may sometimes be their happiest leisure.</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_76" id="Footnote_76" href="#FnAnchor_76"><span class="fn">76</span></a> In the old time, when prisoners were conveyed from Newgate to +Tyburn, they stopped about midway at the “Old Hospital,” at St. Giles’s-in-the-fields, +“and,” says Stow, “were presented with a great bowl of +ale, thereof to drink at their pleasure, as to be their last refreshment in +this life.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_77" id="Footnote_77" href="#FnAnchor_77"><span class="fn">77</span></a> Rawleigh’s love of dress is conspicuous in the early portraits of him +we possess, and particularly so in the one engraved by Lodge.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_78" id="Footnote_78" href="#FnAnchor_78"><span class="fn">78</span></a> The general impression was so much in disfavour of this judicial murder, +that James thought it politic to publish an 8vo pamphlet, in 1618, entitled, +“A Declaration of the Demeanor and Cariage of Sir Walter Raleigh, +Knight, as well in his Voyage, as in and sithence his Returne: and of the +true motives and inducements which occasioned his Maiestie to proceed in +doing justice upon him, as hath beene done.” It takes the whole question +apologetically of the licence given him to Guiana, “as his Majestie’s +honour was in a manner engaged, not to deny unto his people the adventure +and hope of such great riches” as the mines of that island might yield. +It afterwards details his proceedings there, which are declared criminal, +dangerous to his Majesty’s allies, and an abuse of his commission. It ends +by defending his execution, “because he could not by law be judicially +called in question, for that his former attainder of treason is the highest +and last worke of the law (whereby hee was <i>civiliter mortuus</i>) his Maiestie +was enforced (except attainders should become priviledges for all subsequent +offences) to resolve to have him executed upon his former attainder.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_79" id="Footnote_79" href="#FnAnchor_79"><span class="fn">79</span></a> The chief particulars in this narrative are drawn from two manuscript +letters of the day, in the Sloane Collection, under their respective dates, +Nov. 3, 1618, Larkin to Sir Thos. Pickering; Oct. 13, 1618, Chamberlain’s +letters.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page131" id="page131"></a>131</span></p> + +<h3>LITERARY UNIONS.</h3> + +<h5>SECRET HISTORY OF RAWLEIGH’S HISTORY OF THE WORLD, +AND VASARI’S LIVES.</h5> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">A union</span> of talents, differing in their qualities, might carry +some important works to a more extended perfection. In a +work of great enterprise, the aid of a friendly hand may be +absolutely necessary to complete the labours of the projector, +who may have neither the courage, the leisure, nor all necessary +acquisitions for performing the favourite task which he +has otherwise matured. Many great works, commenced by +a master-genius, have remained unfinished, or have been +deficient for want of this friendly succour. The public would +have been grateful to Johnson, had he united in his dictionary +the labours of some learned etymologist. Speed’s +Chronicle owes most of its value, as it does its ornaments, to +the hand of Sir Robert Cotton, and other curious researchers, +who contributed entire portions. Goguet’s esteemed work of +the “Origin of the Arts and Sciences” was greatly indebted +to the fraternal zeal of a devoted friend. The still valued +books of the Port Royal Society were all formed by this +happy union. The secret history of many eminent works +would show the advantages which may be derived from that +combination of talents, differing in their nature. Cumberland’s +masterly versions of the fragments of the Greek +dramatic poets would never have been given to the poetical +world, had he not accidentally possessed the manuscript notes +of his relative, the learned Bentley. This treasure supplied +that research in the most obscure works, which the volatile +studies of Cumberland could never have explored; a circumstance +which he concealed from the world, proud of the +Greek erudition which he thus cheaply possessed. Yet by +this literary union, Bentley’s vast erudition made those +researches which Cumberland could not; and Cumberland +gave the nation a copy of the domestic drama of Greece, of +which Bentley was incapable.</p> + +<p>There is a large work, which is still celebrated, of which the +composition has excited the astonishment even of the +philosophic Hume, but whose secret history remains yet to be +disclosed. This extraordinary volume is “The History of +the World by Rawleigh.” I shall transcribe Hume’s observations, +that the reader may observe the literary phenomenon. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page132" id="page132"></a>132</span> +“They were struck with the extensive genius of the man, +who being educated amidst naval and military enterprises, +<i>had surpassed in the pursuits of literature, even those of the +most recluse and sedentary lives</i>; and they admired his +unbroken magnanimity, which at his age, and under his circumstances, +could engage him to undertake and execute so +great a work, as his History of the World.” Now when the +truth is known, the wonderful in this literary mystery will +disappear, except in the eloquent, the grand, and the pathetic +passages interspersed in that venerable volume. We may, +indeed, pardon the astonishment of our calm philosopher, +when we consider the recondite matter contained in this work, +and recollect the little time which this adventurous spirit, +whose life was passed in fabricating his own fortune, and in +perpetual enterprise, could allow to such erudite pursuits. +Where could Rawleigh obtain that familiar acquaintance with +the rabbins, of whose language he was probably entirely +ignorant? His numerous publications, the effusions of a most +active mind, though excellent in their kind, were evidently +composed by one who was not abstracted in curious and +remote inquiries, but full of the daily business and the +wisdom of human life. His confinement in the Tower, which +lasted several years, was indeed sufficient for the composition +of this folio volume, and of a second which appears to have +occupied him. But in that imprisonment it singularly +happened that he lived among literary characters with most +intimate friendship. There he joined the Earl of Northumberland, +the patron of the philosophers of his age, and with +whom Rawleigh pursued his chemical studies; and Serjeant +Hoskins, a poet and a wit, and the poetical “father” of Ben +Jonson, who acknowledged that “It was Hoskins who had +polished him;” and that Rawleigh often consulted Hoskins +on his literary works, I learn from a manuscript. But +however literary the atmosphere of the Tower proved to +Rawleigh, no particle of Hebrew, and perhaps little of Grecian +lore, floated from a chemist and a poet. The truth is, that +the collection of the materials of this history was the labour +of several persons, who have not all been discovered. It has +been ascertained that Ben Jonson was a considerable contributor; +and there was an English philosopher from whom +Descartes, it is said even by his own countrymen, borrowed +largely—Thomas Hariot, whom Anthony Wood charges with +infusing into Rawleigh’s volume philosophical notions, while +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page133" id="page133"></a>133</span> +Rawleigh was composing his History of the World. But if +Rawleigh’s <i>pursuits surpassed even those of the most recluse +and sedentary lives</i>, as Hume observes, we must attribute this +to a “Dr. Robert Burrel, Rector of Northwald, in the county +of Norfolk, who was a great favourite of Sir Walter +Rawleigh, and had been his chaplain. All, or the greatest +part of the drudgery of Sir Walter’s History for criticisms, +chronology, and reading Greek and Hebrew authors, was +performed by him for Sir Walter.”<a name="FnAnchor_80" id="FnAnchor_80" href="#Footnote_80"><span class="sp">80</span></a> Thus a simple fact, +when discovered, clears up the whole mystery; and we learn +how that knowledge was acquired, which, as Hume sagaciously +detected, required “a recluse and sedentary life,” +such as the studies and the habits of a country clergyman +would have been in a learned age.</p> + +<p>The secret history of another work, still more celebrated +than the History of the World, by Sir Walter Rawleigh, will +doubtless surprise its numerous admirers.</p> + +<p>Without the aid of a friendly hand, we should probably +have been deprived of the delightful History of Artists by +Vasari: although a mere painter and goldsmith, and not a +literary man, Vasari was blessed with the nice discernment of +one deeply conversant with art, and saw rightly what was to +be done, when the idea of the work was suggested by the +celebrated Paulus Jovius as a supplement to his own work of +the “Eulogiums of Illustrious Men.” Vasari approved of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page134" id="page134"></a>134</span> +project; but on that occasion judiciously observed, not +blinded by the celebrity of the literary man who projected it, +that “It would require the assistance of an artist to collect +the materials, and arrange them in their proper order; for +although Jovius displayed great knowledge in his observations, +yet he had not been equally accurate in the arrangement +of his facts in his book of Eulogiums.” Afterwards, +when Vasari began to collect his information, and consulted +Paulus Jovius on the plan, although that author highly +approved of what he saw, he alleged his own want of leisure +and ability to complete such an enterprise; and this was fortunate: +we should otherwise have had, instead of the rambling +spirit which charms us in the volumes of Vasari, the verbose +babble of a declaimer. Vasari, however, looked round for +the assistance he wanted; a circumstance which Tiraboschi +has not noticed: like Hogarth, he required a literary man +for his scribe. I have discovered the name of the chief +writer of the Lives of the Painters, who wrote under the +direction of Vasari, and probably often used his own natural +style, and conveyed to us those reflections which surely come +from their source. I shall give the passage, as a curious instance +where the secret history of books is often detected in +the most obscure corners of research. Who could have imagined +that in a collection of the lives <i>de’ Santi e Beati dell’ +Ordine de’ Predicatori</i>, we are to look for the writer of +Vasari’s lives? Don Serafini Razzi, the author of this ecclesiastical +biography, has this reference: “Who would see more +of this may turn to the Lives of the Painters, Sculptors, and +Architects, <i>written for the greater part by Don Silvano Razzi</i>, +my brother, for the Signor Cavaliere M. Giorgio Vasari, his +great friend.”<a name="FnAnchor_81" id="FnAnchor_81" href="#Footnote_81"><span class="sp">81</span></a></p> + +<p>The discovery that Vasari’s volumes were not entirely +written by himself, though probably under his dictation, and +unquestionably, with his communications, as we know that +Dr. Morell wrote the “Analysis of Beauty” for Hogarth, will +perhaps serve to clear up some unaccountable mistakes or +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page135" id="page135"></a>135</span> +omissions which appear in that series of volumes, written at +long intervals, and by different hands. Mr. Fuseli has +alluded to them in utter astonishment; and cannot account +for Vasari’s “incredible dereliction of reminiscence, which +prompted him to transfer what he had rightly ascribed to +Giorgione in one edition to the elder Parma in the subsequent +ones.” Again: “Vasari’s memory was either so treacherous, +or his rapidity in writing so inconsiderate, that his account +of the Capella Sistina, and the stanze of Raffaello, is a mere +heap of errors and unpardonable confusion.” Even Bottari, +his learned editor, is at a loss how to account for his mistakes. +Mr. Fuseli finely observes—“He has been called the +Herodotus of our art; and if the main simplicity of his narrative, +and the desire of heaping anecdote on anecdote, entitle +him in some degree to that appellation, we ought not to +forget that the information of every day adds something to +the authenticity of the Greek historian, whilst every day furnishes +matter to question the credibility of the Tuscan.” All +this strongly confirms the suspicion that Vasari employed +different hands at different times to write out his work. Such +mistakes would occur to a new writer, not always conversant +with the subject he was composing on, and the disjointed +materials of which were often found in a disordered state. It +is, however, strange that neither Bottari nor Tiraboschi +appears to have been aware that Vasari employed others to +write for him; we see that from the first suggestion of the +work he had originally proposed that Paulus Jovius should +hold the pen for him.</p> + +<p>The principle illustrated in this article might be pursued; +but the secret history of two great works so well known is +as sufficient as twenty others of writings less celebrated. The +literary phenomenon which had puzzled the calm inquiring +Hume to cry out “a miracle!” has been solved by the discovery +of a little fact on Literary Unions, which derives importance +from this circumstance.<a name="FnAnchor_82" id="FnAnchor_82" href="#Footnote_82"><span class="sp">82</span></a></p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_80" id="Footnote_80" href="#FnAnchor_80"><span class="fn">80</span></a> I draw my information from a very singular manuscript in the Lansdowne +collection, which I think has been mistaken for a boy’s ciphering +book, of which it has much the appearance, No. 741, fo. 57, as it stands +in the auctioneer’s catalogue. It appears to be a collection closely written, +extracted out of Anthony Wood’s papers; and as I have discovered in the +manuscript numerous notices not elsewhere preserved, I am inclined to +think that the transcriber copied them from that mass of Anthony Wood’s +papers, of which more than one sackful was burnt at his desire before +him when dying. If it be so, this MS. is the only register of many +curious facts.</p> + +<p>Ben Jonson has been too freely censured for his own free censures, and +particularly for one he made on Sir Walter Rawleigh, who, he told Drummond, +“esteemed more fame than conscience. <i>The best wits in England +were employed in making his History;</i> Ben himself had written a piece +to him of the Punic War, which he altered and set in his book.” Jonson’s +powerful advocate, Mr. Gifford, has not alleged a word in the defence of +our great bard’s free conversational strictures; the secret history of +Rawleigh’s great work had never been discovered; on this occasion, however, +Jonson only spoke what he knew to be true—and there may have +been other truths, in those conversations which were set down at random +by Drummond, who may have chiefly recollected the satirical touches.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_81" id="Footnote_81" href="#FnAnchor_81"><span class="fn">81</span></a> I find this quotation in a sort of polemical work of natural philosophy, +entitled “Saggio di Storia Litteraria Fiorentina del Secolo XVII. da +Giovanne Clemente Nelli,” Lucca, 1759, p. 58. Nelli also refers to what +he had said on this subject in his <i>Piante ad alzati di S.M. del Fiore</i>, +p. vi. e vii.; a work on architecture. See Brunet; and Haym, <i>Bib. Ital. +de Libri rari</i>.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_82" id="Footnote_82" href="#FnAnchor_82"><span class="fn">82</span></a> <span class="sc">Mr. Patrick Fraser Tytler</span>, in his recent biography of Sir Walter +Rawleigh, a work of vigorous research and elegant composition, has dedicated +to me a supernumerary article in his Appendix, entitled <i>Mr. +D’Israeli’s Errors</i>!</p> + +<p>He has inferred from the present article, that I denied that Rawleigh +was the writer of his own great work!—because I have shown how great +works may be advantageously pursued by the aid of “Literary Union.” +It is a monstrous inference! The chimera which plays before his eyes is +his own contrivance; he starts at his own phantasmagoria, and leaves me, +after all, to fight with his shadow.</p> + +<p>Mr. Tytler <i>has not contradicted a single statement of mine</i>. I have +carefully read his article and my own, and I have made no alteration.</p> + +<p>I may be allowed to add that there is much redundant matter in the +article of Mr. Tytler; and, to use the legal style, there is much “impertinence,” +which, with a little candour and more philosophy, he would +strike his pen through, as sound lawyers do on these occasions.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page136" id="page136"></a>136</span></p> + +<h3>OF A BIOGRAPHY PAINTED.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">There</span> are objects connected with literary curiosity, whose +very history, though they may never gratify our sight, is +literary; and the originality of their invention, should they +excite imitation, may serve to constitute a class. I notice a +book-curiosity of this nature.</p> + +<p>This extraordinary volume may be said to have contained +the travels and adventures of Charles Magius, a noble Venetian; +and this volume, so precious, consisted only of eighteen +pages, composed of a series of highly-finished miniature paintings +on vellum, some executed by the hand of Paul Veronese. +Each page, however, may be said to contain many chapters; +for, generally, it is composed of a large centre-piece, surrounded +by ten small ones, with many apt inscriptions, allegories, +and allusions; the whole exhibiting romantic incidents +in the life of this Venetian nobleman. But it is not merely +as a beautiful production of art that we are to consider it; +it becomes associated with a more elevated feeling in the +occasion which produced it. The author, who is himself the +hero, after having been long calumniated, resolved to set before +the eyes of his accusers the sufferings and adventures he +could perhaps have but indifferently described: and instead of +composing a tedious volume for his justification, invented this +new species of pictorial biography. The author minutely +described the remarkable situations in which fortune had +placed him; and the artists, in embellishing the facts he furnished +them with to record, emulated each other in giving +life to their truth, and putting into action, before the spectator, +incidents which the pen had less impressively exhibited. +This unique production may be considered as a model to represent +the actions of those who may succeed more fortunately +by this new mode of perpetuating their history; discovering, +by the aid of the pencil, rather than by their pen, +the forms and colours of an extraordinary life.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page137" id="page137"></a>137</span></p> + +<p>It was when the Ottomans (about 1571) attacked the Isle +of Cyprus, that this Venetian nobleman was charged by his +republic to review and repair the fortifications. He was +afterwards sent to the pope to negociate an alliance: he returned +to the senate to give an account of his commission. +Invested with the chief command, at the head of his troops, +Magius threw himself into the island of Cyprus, and after a +skilful defence, which could not prevent its fall, at Famagusta +he was taken prisoner by the Turks, and made a slave. His +age and infirmities induced his master, at length, to sell him +to some Christian merchants; and after an absence of several +years from his beloved Venice, he suddenly appeared, to the +astonishment and mortification of a party who had never +ceased to calumniate him; while his own noble family were +compelled to preserve an indignant silence, having had no +communications with their lost and enslaved relative. Magius +now returned to vindicate his honour, to reinstate himself in +the favour of the senate, and to be restored to a venerable +parent amidst his family; to whom he introduced a fresh +branch, in a youth of seven years old, the child of his misfortunes, +who, born in trouble, and a stranger to domestic +endearments, was at one moment united to a beloved circle of +relations.</p> + +<p>I shall give a rapid view of some of the pictures of this +Venetian nobleman’s life. The whole series has been elaborately +drawn up by the Duke de la Vallière, the celebrated +book-collector, who dwells on the detail with the curiosity of +an amateur.<a name="FnAnchor_83" id="FnAnchor_83" href="#Footnote_83"><span class="sp">83</span></a></p> + +<p>In a rich frontispiece, a Christ is expiring on the cross; +Religion, leaning on a column, contemplates the Divinity, +and Hope is not distant from her. The genealogical tree of +the house of Magius, with an allegorical representation of +Venice, its nobility, power, and riches: the arms of Magius, +in which is inserted a view of the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem, +of which he was made a knight; his portrait, with a Latin +inscription: “I have passed through arms and the enemy, +amidst fire and water, and the Lord conducted me to a safe +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page138" id="page138"></a>138</span> +asylum, in the year of grace 1571.” The portrait of his son, +aged seven years, finished with the greatest beauty, and supposed +to have come from the hand of Paul Veronese; it +bears this inscription: “Overcome by violence and artifice, +almost dead before his birth, his mother was at length +delivered of him, full of life, with all the loveliness of infancy; +under the divine protection, his birth was happy, +and his life with greater happiness shall be closed with good +fortune.”</p> + +<p>A plan of the Isle of Cyprus, where Magius commanded, +and his first misfortune happened, his slavery by the Turks.—The +painter has expressed this by an emblem of a tree shaken +by the winds and scathed by the lightning; but from the +trunk issues a beautiful green branch shining in a brilliant +sun, with this device—“From this fallen trunk springs a +branch full of vigour.”</p> + +<p>The missions of Magius to raise troops in the province of +La Puglia.—In one of these Magius is seen returning to +Venice; his final departure,—a thunderbolt is viewed falling +on his vessel—his passage by Corfu and Zante, and his arrival +at Candia.</p> + +<p>His travels to Egypt.—The centre figure represents this +province raising its right hand extended towards a palm-tree, +and the left leaning on a pyramid, inscribed “Celebrated +throughout the world for her wonders.” The smaller pictures +are the entrance of Magius into the port of Alexandria; +Rosetta, with a caravan of Turks and different nations; the +city of Grand Cairo, exterior and interior, with views of other +places; and finally, his return to Venice.</p> + +<p>His journey to Rome.—The centre figure an armed Pallas +seated on trophies, the Tyber beneath her feet, a globe in her +hands, inscribed <i>Quod rerum victrix ac domina</i>,—“Because +she is the Conqueress and Mistress of the World.” The ten +small pictures are views of the cities in the pope’s dominion. +His first audience at the conclave forms a pleasing and fine +composition.</p> + +<p>His travels into Syria.—The principal figure is a female, +emblematical of that fine country; she is seated in the midst +of a gay orchard, and embraces a bundle of roses, inscribed +<i>Mundi deliciæ</i>—“The delight of the universe.” The small +compartments are views of towns and ports, and the spot +where Magius collected his fleet.</p> + +<p>His pilgrimage to Jerusalem, where he was made a knight +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page139" id="page139"></a>139</span> +of the Holy Sepulchre.—The principal figure represents Devotion, +inscribed <i>Ducit</i>—“It is she who conducts me.” The +compartments exhibit a variety of objects, with a correctness +of drawing which is described as belonging to the class, and +partaking of the charms of the pencil of Claude Lorraine. +His vessel is first viewed in the roadstead at Venice beat by +a storm; arrives at Zante to refresh; enters the port of +Simiso; there having landed, he and his companions are proceeding +to the town on asses, for Christians were not permitted +to travel in Turkey on horses. In the church at +Jerusalem the bishop, in his pontifical habit, receives him as +a knight of the Holy Sepulchre, arraying him in the armour +of Godfrey of Bouillon, and placing his sword in the hands of +Magius. His arrival at Bethlehem, to see the cradle of the +Lord—and his return by Jaffa with his companions, in the +dress of pilgrims; the groups are finely contrasted with the +Turks mingling amongst them.</p> + +<p>The taking of the city of Famagusta, and his slavery.—The +middle figure, with a dog at its feet, represents Fidelity, +the character of Magius, who ever preferred it to his life or +his freedom, inscribed <i>Captivat</i>—“She has reduced me to +slavery.” Six smaller pictures exhibit the different points of +the island of Cyprus where the Turks effected their descents. +Magius retreating to Famagusta, which he long defended, and +where his cousin, a skilful engineer, was killed. The Turks +compelled to raise the siege, but return with greater forces—the +sacking of the town and the palace, where Magius was +taken.—One picture exhibits him brought before a bashaw, +who has him stripped, to judge of his strength and fix his +price, when, after examination, he is sent among other slaves. +He is seen bound and tied up among his companions in misfortune—again +he is forced to labour, and carries a cask of +water on his shoulders.—In another picture, his master, finding +him weak of body, conducts him to a slave-merchant to +sell him. In another we see him leading an ass loaded with +packages; his new master, finding him loitering on his way, +showers his blows on him, while a soldier is seen purloining +one of the packages from the ass. Another exhibits Magius +sinking with fatigue on the sands, while his master would +raise him up by an unsparing use of the bastinado. The +varied details of these little paintings are pleasingly executed.</p> + +<p>The close of his slavery.—The middle figure kneeling to +Heaven, and a light breaking from it, inscribed, “He breaks +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page140" id="page140"></a>140</span> +my chains,” to express the confidence of Magius. The Turks +are seen landing with their pillage and their slaves.—In one +of the pictures are seen two ships on fire; a young lady of +Cyprus preferring death to the loss of her honour and the +miseries of slavery, determined to set fire to the vessel in +which she was carried; she succeeded, and the flames communicated +to another.</p> + +<p>His return to Venice.—The painter for his principal figure +has chosen a Pallas, with a helmet on her head, the ægis on +one arm, and her lance in the other, to describe the courage +with which Magius had supported his misfortunes, inscribed +<i>Reducit</i>—“She brings me back.” In the last of the compartments +he is seen at the custom-house at Venice; he enters +the house of his father; the old man hastens to meet him, +and embraces him.</p> + +<p>One page is filled by a single picture, which represents the +senate of Venice, with the Doge on his throne; Magius presents +an account of his different employments, and holds in +his hand a scroll, on which is written, <i>Quod commisisti perfeci; +quod restat agendum, pare fide complectar</i>—“I have +done what you committed to my care; and I will perform +with the same fidelity what remains to be done.” He is +received by the senate with the most distinguished honours, +and is not only justified, but praised and honoured.</p> + +<p>The most magnificent of these paintings is the one attributed +to Paul Veronese. It is described by the Duke de la +Vallière as almost unparalleled for its richness, its elegance, +and its brilliancy. It is inscribed <i>Pater meus et fratres mei +dereliquerunt me; Dominus autem assumpsit me!</i>—“My +father and my brothers abandoned me; but the Lord took +me under his protection.” This is an allusion to the accusation +raised against him in the open senate when the Turks +took the Isle of Cyprus, and his family wanted either the +confidence or the courage to defend Magius. In the front of +this large picture, Magius leading his son by the hand, conducts +him to be reconciled with his brothers and sisters-in-law, +who are on the opposite side; his hand holds this scroll, +<i>Vos cogitastis de me malum; sed Deus convertit illud in +bonum</i>—”You thought ill of me; but the Lord has turned +it to good.” In this he alludes to the satisfaction he had +given the senate, and to the honours they had decreed him. +Another scene is introduced, where Magius appears in a magnificent +hall at a table in the midst of all his family, with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page141" id="page141"></a>141</span> +whom a general reconciliation has taken place: on his left +hand are gardens opening with an enchanting effect, and +magnificently ornamented, with the villa of his father, on +which flowers and wreaths seem dropping on the roof, as if +from heaven. In the perspective, the landscape probably +represents the rural neighbourhood of Magius’s early days.</p> + +<p>Such are the most interesting incidents which I have +selected from the copious description of the Duke de la Vallière. +The idea of this production is new: an autobiography +in a series of remarkable scenes, painted under the eye of the +describer of them, in which, too, he has preserved all the +fulness of his feelings and his minutest recollections; but the +novelty becomes interesting from the character of the noble +Magius, and the romantic fancy which inspired this elaborate +and costly curiosity. It was not, indeed, without some +trouble that I have drawn up this little account; but while +thus employed, I seemed to be composing a very uncommon +romance.</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_83" id="Footnote_83" href="#FnAnchor_83"><span class="fn">83</span></a> The Duke’s description is not to be found, as might be expected, in +his own valued catalogue, but was a contribution to Gaignat’s, ii. 16, +where it occupies fourteen pages. This singular work sold at Gaignat’s +sale for 902 livres. It was then the golden age of literary curiosity, when +the rarest things were not ruinous; and that price was even then considered +extraordinary, though the work was an unique. It must consist of +about 180 subjects, by Italian artists.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>CAUSE AND PRETEXT.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">It</span> is an important principle in morals and in politics, not to +mistake the cause for the pretext, nor the pretext for the +cause, and by this means to distinguish between the concealed +and the ostensible motive. On this principle, history +might be recomposed in a new manner; it would not often +describe <i>circumstances</i> and <i>characters</i> as they usually appear. +When we mistake the characters of men, we mistake the +nature of their actions; and we shall find in the study of +secret history, that some of the most important events in +modern history were produced from very different motives +than their ostensible ones. Polybius, the most philosophical +writer of the ancients, has marked out this useful distinction +of <i>cause</i> and <i>pretext</i>, and aptly illustrates the observation by +the facts which he explains. Amilcar, for instance, was the +first author and contriver of the second Punic war, though he +died ten years before the commencement of it. “A statesman,” +says the wise and grave historian, “who knows not +how to trace the origin of events, and discern the different +sources from whence they take their rise, may be compared +to a physician who neglects to inform himself of the causes +of those distempers which he is called in to cure. Our pains +can never be better employed than in searching out the causes +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page142" id="page142"></a>142</span> +of events; for the most trifling incidents give birth to matters +of the greatest moment and importance.” The latter part of +this remark of Polybius points out another principle which +has been often verified by history, and which furnished the +materials of the little book of “Grands Evénemens par les +petites Causes.”</p> + +<p>Our present inquiry concerns “cause and pretext.”</p> + +<p>Leo X. projected an alliance of the sovereigns of Christendom +against the Turks. The avowed object was to oppose +the progress of the Ottomans against the Mamelukes of +Egypt, who were more friendly to the Christians; but the concealed +motive with his holiness was to enrich himself and his +family with the spoils of Christendom, and to aggrandise the +papal throne by war; and such, indeed, the policy of these +pontiffs had always been in those mad crusades which they +excited against the East.</p> + +<p>The Reformation, excellent as its results have proved in the +cause of genuine freedom, originated in no purer source than +human passions and selfish motives: it was the progeny of +avarice in Germany, of novelty in France, and of love in +England. The latter is elegantly alluded to by Gray—</p> + +<p class="center1 f90">And gospel-light first beam’d from Bullen’s eyes.</p> + +<p class="noind">The Reformation is considered by the Duke of Nevers, in a +work printed in 1590, as it had been by Francis I., in his +Apology in 1537, as a <i>coup-d’état</i> of Charles V. towards universal +monarchy. The duke says, that the emperor silently +permitted Luther to establish his principles in Germany, that +they might split the confederacy of the elective princes, and +by this division facilitate their more easy conquest, and play +them off one against another, and by these means to secure +the imperial crown hereditary in the house of Austria. Had +Charles V. not been the mere creature of his politics, and had +he felt any zeal for the Catholic cause, which he pretended to +fight for, never would he have allowed the new doctrines to +spread for more than twenty years without the least opposition.</p> + +<p>The famous League in France was raised for “religion and +the relief of public grievances;” such was the pretext! +After the princes and the people had alike become its victims, +this “league” was discovered to have been formed by the +pride and the ambition of the Guises, aided by the machinations +of the Jesuits against the attempts of the Prince of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page143" id="page143"></a>143</span> +Condé to dislodge them from their “seat of power.” While +the Huguenots pillaged, burnt, and massacred, declaring in +their manifestoes that they were only fighting to <i>release the +king</i>, whom they asserted was a prisoner of the Guises, the +Catholics repaid them with the same persecution and the +same manifestoes, declaring that they only wished <i>to liberate +the Prince of Condé</i>, who was the prisoner of the Huguenots. +The people were led on by the cry of “religion;” but +this civil war was not in reality so much Catholic against +Huguenot, as Guise against Condé. A parallel event occurred +between our Charles I. and the Scotch Covenanters; +and the king expressly declared, in “a large declaration, +concerning the late tumults in Scotland,” that “religion is +only <i>pretended</i>, and used by them as a cloak to palliate their +<i>intended rebellion</i>,” which he demonstrated by the facts he +alleged. There was a revolutionary party in France, which, +taking the name of <i>Frondeurs</i>, shook that kingdom under the +administration of Cardinal Mazarin, and held out for their +pretext the public freedom. But that faction, composed of +some of the discontented French princes and the mob, was +entirely organized by Cardinal de Retz, who held them in +hand, to check or to spur them as the occasion required, from +a mere personal pique against Mazarin, who had not treated +that vivacious genius with all the deference he exacted. +This appears from his own Memoirs.</p> + +<p>We have smiled at James I. threatening the States-general +by the English ambassador, about Vorstius, a Dutch professor, +who had espoused the doctrines of Arminius against +those of the contra-remonstrants, or Calvinists; the ostensible +subject was religious, or rather metaphysical-religious +doctrines, but the concealed one was a struggle for predominance +between the Pensionary Barnevelt, assisted by the +French interest, and the Prince of Orange, supported by the +English. “These were the real sources,” says Lord Hardwicke, +a statesman and a man of letters, deeply conversant +with secret and public history, and a far more able judge than +Diodati the Swiss divine, and Brandt the ecclesiastical historian, +who in the synod of Dort could see nothing but what +appeared in it, and gravely narrated the idle squabbles on +phrases concerning predestination or grace. Hales, of +Eaton, who was secretary to the English ambassador at this +synod, perfectly accords with the account of Lord Hardwicke. +“Our synod,” writes that judicious observer, “goes +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page144" id="page144"></a>144</span> +on like a watch; the main wheels upon which the whole +business turns are least in sight; for all things of moment +are acted in private sessions; <i>what is done in public is only +for show and entertainment</i>.”</p> + +<p>The <i>cause</i> of the persecution of the Jansenists was the +jealousy of the Jesuits; the <i>pretext</i> was <i>la grace suffisante</i>. +The learned La Croze observes, that the same circumstance +occurred in the affair of Nestorius and the church of Alexandria; +the pretext was orthodoxy, the cause was the jealousy +of the church of Alexandria, or rather the fiery and +turbulent Cyril, who personally hated Nestorius. The opinions +of Nestorius, and the council which condemned them, +were the same in effect. I only produce this remote fact to +prove that ancient times do not alter the truth of our principle.</p> + +<p>When James II. was so strenuous an advocate for <i>toleration</i> +and <i>liberty of conscience</i> in removing the Test Act, this +enlightened principle of government was only a <i>pretext</i> with +that monk-ridden monarch; it is well known that the <i>cause</i> +was to introduce and make the Catholics predominant in his +councils and government. The result, which that eager and +blind politician hurried on too fast, and which therefore did +not take place, would have been that “liberty of conscience” +would soon have become an “overt act of treason” +before an inquisition of his Jesuits!</p> + +<p>In all political affairs drop the <i>pretexts</i> and strike at the +<i>causes</i>; we may thus understand what the heads of parties +may choose to conceal.</p> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>POLITICAL FORGERIES AND FICTIONS.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">A writer</span>, whose learning gives value to his eloquence, in his +Bampton Lectures has censured, with that liberal spirit so +friendly to the cause of truth, the calumnies and rumours of +parties, which are still industriously retailed, though they +have been often confuted. Forged documents are still referred +to, or tales unsupported by evidence are confidently +quoted. Mr. Heber’s subject confined his inquiries to theological +history; he has told us that “Augustin is not +ashamed, in his dispute with Faustus, to take advantage of +the popular slanders against the followers of Manes, though +his own experience (for he had himself been of that sect) was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page145" id="page145"></a>145</span> +sufficient to detect this falsehood.” The Romanists, in spite +of satisfactory answers, have continued to urge against the +English protestant the romance of Parker’s consecration;<a name="FnAnchor_84" id="FnAnchor_84" href="#Footnote_84"><span class="sp">84</span></a> +while the protestant persists in falsely imputing to the +catholic public formularies the systematic omission of the +second commandment. “The calumnies of Rimius and +Stinstra against the Moravian brethren are cases in point,” +continues Mr. Heber. “No one now believes them, yet they +once could deceive even Warburton!” We may also add the +obsolete calumny of Jews crucifying boys—of which a monument +raised to Hugh of Lincoln perpetuates the memory, +and which a modern historian records without any scruple of +doubt; several authorities, which are cited on this occasion, +amount only to the single one of Matthew Paris, who gives +it as a popular rumour. Such accusations usually happened +when the Jews were too rich and the king was too +poor!<a name="FnAnchor_85" id="FnAnchor_85" href="#Footnote_85"><span class="sp">85</span></a></p> + +<p>The falsehoods and forgeries raised by parties are overwhelming! +It startles a philosopher, in the calm of his +study, when he discovers how writers, who, we may presume, +are searchers after truth, should, in fact, turn out to be +searchers after the grossest fictions. This alters the habits of +the literary man: it is an unnatural depravity of his pursuits—and +it proves that the personal is too apt to predominate +over the literary character.</p> + +<p>I have already touched on the main point of the present +article in the one on “Political Nicknames.” I have there +shown how political calumny appears to have been reduced +into an art; one of its branches would be that of converting +forgeries and fictions into historical authorities.</p> + +<p>When one nation is at war with another, there is no doubt +that the two governments connive at, and often encourage, the +most atrocious libels on each other, to madden the people to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page146" id="page146"></a>146</span> +preserve their independence, and contribute cheerfully to the +expenses of the war. France and England formerly complained +of Holland—the Athenians employed the same policy +against the Macedonians and Persians. Such is the origin +of a vast number of supposititious papers and volumes, which +sometimes, at a remote date, confound the labours of the +honest historian, and too often serve the purposes of the dishonest, +with whom they become authorities. The crude and +suspicious libels which were drawn out of their obscurity in +Cromwell’s time against James the First have overloaded the +character of that monarch, yet are now eagerly referred to by +party writers, though in their own days they were obsolete +and doubtful. During the civil wars of Charles the First +such spurious documents exist in the forms of speeches which +were never spoken; of letters never written by the names +subscribed; printed declarations never declared; battles never +fought, and victories never obtained! Such is the language +of Rushworth, who complains of this evil spirit of party forgeries, +while he is himself suspected of having rescinded or +suppressed whatever was not agreeable to his patron Cromwell. +A curious, and perhaps a necessary list might be +drawn up of political forgeries of our own, which have been +sometimes referred to as genuine, but which are the inventions +of wits and satirists! Bayle ingeniously observes, that +at the close of every century such productions should be +branded by a skilful discriminator, to save the future inquirer +from errors he can hardly avoid. “How many are still kept +in error by the satires of the sixteenth century! Those of +the present age will be no less active in future ages, for they +will still be preserved in public libraries.”</p> + +<p>The art and skill with which some have fabricated a forged +narrative render its detection almost hopeless. When young +Maitland, the brother to the secretary, in order to palliate +the crime of the assassination of the Regent Murray, was +employed to draw up a pretended conference between him, +Knox, and others, to stigmatise them by the odium of advising +to dethrone the young monarch, and to substitute the regent +for their sovereign, Maitland produced so dramatic a performance, +by giving to each person his peculiar mode of expression, +that this circumstance long baffled the incredulity of those +who could not in consequence deny the truth of a narrative +apparently so correct in its particulars! “The fiction of the +warming-pan enclosing the young Pretender brought more +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page147" id="page147"></a>147</span> +adherents to the cause of the Whigs than the Bill of Rights,” +observes Lord John Russell.</p> + +<p>Among such party narratives, the horrid tale of the bloody +Colonel Kirk has been worked up by Hume with all his eloquence +and pathos; and, from its interest, no suspicion has +arisen of its truth. Yet, so far as it concerns Kirk, or the +reign of James the Second, or even English history, it is, as +Ritson too honestly expresses it, “an impudent and a bare-faced +lie!” The simple fact is told by Kennet in a few words: +he probably was aware of the nature of this political fiction. +Hume was not, indeed, himself the fabricator of the tale; +but he had not any historical authority. The origin of this +fable was probably a pious fraud of the Whig party, to whom +Kirk had rendered himself odious; at that moment stories +still more terrifying were greedily swallowed, and which, Ritson +insinuates, have become a part of the history of England. +The original story, related more circumstantially, though not +more affectingly, nor perhaps more truly, may be found in +Wanley’s “Wonders of the Little World,”<a name="FnAnchor_86" id="FnAnchor_86" href="#Footnote_86"><span class="sp">86</span></a> which I give, +relieving it from the tediousness of old Wanley.</p> + +<p>A governor of Zealand, under the bold Duke of Burgundy, +had in vain sought to seduce the affections of the beautiful +wife of a citizen. The governor imprisons the husband on an +accusation of treason; and when the wife appeared as the +suppliant, the governor, after no brief eloquence, succeeded as +a lover, on the plea that her husband’s life could only be spared +by her compliance. The woman, in tears and in aversion, and +not without a hope of vengeance only delayed, lost her +honour! Pointing to the prison, the governor told her, “If +you seek your husband, enter there, and take him along with +you!” The wife, in the bitterness of her thoughts, yet not +without the consolation that she had snatched her husband +from the grave, passed into the prison; there in a cell, to her +astonishment and horror, she beheld the corpse of her husband +laid out in a coffin, ready for burial! Mourning over it, +she at length returned to the governor, fiercely exclaiming, +“You have kept your word! you have restored to me my +husband! and be assured the favour shall be repaid!” The +inhuman villain, terrified in the presence of his intrepid victim, +attempted to appease her vengeance, and more, to win +her to his wishes. Returning home, she assembled her friends, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page148" id="page148"></a>148</span> +revealed her whole story, and under their protection she +appealed to Charles the Bold, a strict lover of justice, and who +now awarded a singular but an exemplary catastrophe. The +duke first commanded that the criminal governor should +instantly marry the woman whom he had made a widow, and +at the same time sign his will, with a clause importing that +should he die before his lady he constituted her his heiress. +All this was concealed from both sides, rather to satisfy the +duke than the parties themselves. This done, the unhappy +woman was dismissed alone! The governor was conducted to +the prison to suffer the same death he had inflicted on the +husband of his wife; and when this lady was desired once +more to enter the prison, she beheld her second husband headless +in his coffin as she had her first! Such extraordinary incidents +in so short a period overpowered the feeble frame of the +sufferer; she died—leaving a son, who inherited the rich +accession of fortune so fatally obtained by his injured and +suffering mother.</p> + +<p>Such is the tale of which the party story of Kirk appeared +to Ritson to have been a <i>rifacimento</i>; but it is rather the +foundation than the superstructure. This critic was right in +the general, but not in the particular. It was not necessary +to point out the present source, when so many others of a +parallel nature exist. This tale, universally told, Mr. Douce +considers as the origin of <i>Measure for Measure</i>, and was +probably some traditional event; for it appears sometimes +with a change of names and places, without any of incident. +It always turns on a soldier, a brother or a husband, executed; +and a wife, a sister, a deceived victim, to save them from death. +It was, therefore, easily transferred to Kirk, and Pomfret’s +poem of “Cruelty and Lust” long made the story popular. +It could only have been in this form that it reached the historian, +who, it must be observed, introduces it as a “story +<i>commonly told</i> of him;” but popular tragic romances should +not enter into the dusty documents of a history of England, +and much less be particularly specified in the index! Belleforest, +in his old version of the tale, has even the circumstance +of the “captain, who having seduced the wife under the promise +to save her husband’s life, exhibited him soon afterwards +<i>through the window of her apartment suspended on a gibbet</i>.” +This forms the horrid incident in the history of “the bloody +Colonel,” and served the purpose of a party, who wished to +bury him in odium. Kirk was a soldier of fortune, and a loose +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page149" id="page149"></a>149</span> +liver, and a great blusterer, who would sometimes threaten to +decimate his own regiment, but is said to have forgotten the +menace the next day. Hateful as such military men will always +be, in the present instance Colonel Kirk has been shamefully +calumniated by poets and historians, who suffer themselves to +be duped by the forgeries of political parties!<a name="FnAnchor_87" id="FnAnchor_87" href="#Footnote_87"><span class="sp">87</span></a></p> + +<p>While we are detecting a source of error into which the +party feelings of modern historians may lead them, let us +confess that they are far more valuable than the ancient; for +to us at least the ancients have written history without +producing authorities! Modern historians must furnish their +readers with the truest means to become their critics, by +providing them with their authorities; and it is only by judiciously +appreciating these that we may confidently accept +their discoveries. Unquestionably the ancients have often +introduced into their histories many tales similar to the story +of Kirk—popular or party forgeries! The mellifluous copiousness +of Livy conceals many a tale of wonder; the graver +of Tacitus etches many a fatal stroke; and the secret history +of Suetonius too often raises a suspicion of those whispers, +<i>Quid rex in aurem reginæ dixerit, quid Juno fabulata sit cum +Jove</i>. It is certain that Plutarch has often told, and varied +too in the telling, the same story, which he has applied to +different persons. A critic in the Ritsonian style has said of +the grave Plutarch, <i>Mendax ille Plutarchus qui vitas oratorum, +dolis et erroribus consutas, olim conscribillavit</i>.<a name="FnAnchor_88" id="FnAnchor_88" href="#Footnote_88"><span class="sp">88</span></a> “That +lying Plutarch, who formerly scribbled the lives of the orators, +made up of falsities and blunders!” There is in Italian a +scarce book, of a better design than execution, of the Abbate +Lancellotti, <i>Farfalloni degli Antichi Historici</i>.—“Flim-flams +of the Ancients.” Modern historians have to dispute their +passage to immortality step by step; and however fervid be +their eloquence, their real test as to value must be brought to +the humble references in their margin. Yet these must not +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page150" id="page150"></a>150</span> +terminate our inquiries; for in tracing a story to its original +source we shall find that fictions have been sometimes grafted +on truths or hearsays, and to separate them as they appeared +in their first stage is the pride and glory of learned criticism.</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_84" id="Footnote_84" href="#FnAnchor_84"><span class="fn">84</span></a> Absurdly reported to have taken place at a meeting in the Nag’s-head +Tavern, Cheapside.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_85" id="Footnote_85" href="#FnAnchor_85"><span class="fn">85</span></a> M. Michel published in Paris, in 1834, a collection of poems and +ballads concerning Hugh of Lincoln, which were all very popular at home +and abroad in the Middle Ages. One of these, preserved in an Anglo-Norman +MS. in the Bibliothèque Royale at Paris, was evidently constructed +to be sung by the people soon after the event, which is stated to have happened +in the reign of our Henry III.; but there are many ballads comparatively +modern which show how carefully the story was kept before the +populace; and may be seen in the collections of Bishop Percy, Jameson, +Motherwell, &c.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_86" id="Footnote_86" href="#FnAnchor_86"><span class="fn">86</span></a> Book iii. ch. 29, sec. 18.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_87" id="Footnote_87" href="#FnAnchor_87"><span class="fn">87</span></a> A story still more absurd was connected with the name of Colonel +Lunsford, a soldier who consistently defended Charles I., and was killed in +1643. It is related by Echard as reported of him, that he would kill and +eat the children of the opposite party. This horridly grotesque imputation +has been preserved in the political ballads and poetry of the day. +Cleveland ridicules it in one of his poems, where he makes a Roundhead +declare—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr" style="font-size: 100%;"> + +<p>“He swore he saw, when Lunsford fell,</p> +<p class="i05">A child’s arm in his pocket.”</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p><a name="Footnote_88" id="Footnote_88" href="#FnAnchor_88"><span class="fn">88</span></a> Taylor, Annot. ad Lysiam.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>EXPRESSION OF SUPPRESSED OPINION.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">A people</span> denied the freedom of speech or of writing have +usually left some memorials of their feelings in that silent +language which addresses itself to the eye. Many ingenious +inventions have been contrived to give vent to their suppressed +indignation. The voluminous grievance which they +could not trust to the voice or the pen they have carved in +wood, or sculptured on stone; and have sometimes even facetiously +concealed their satire among the playful ornaments +designed to amuse those of whom they so fruitlessly complained! +Such monuments of the suppressed feelings of the +multitude are not often inspected by the historian—their +minuteness escapes all eyes but those of the philosophical +antiquary; nor are these satirical appearances always considered +as grave authorities, which unquestionably they will be +found to be by a close observer of human nature. An entertaining +history of the modes of thinking, or the discontents +of a people, drawn from such dispersed efforts in every æra, +would cast a new light of secret history over many dark +intervals.</p> + +<p>Did we possess a secret history of the Saturnalia, it would +doubtless have afforded some materials for the present article. +In those revels of venerable radicalism, when the senate was +closed, and the <i>Pileus</i>, or cap of liberty, was triumphantly +worn, all things assumed an appearance contrary to what they +were; and human nature, as well as human laws, might be +said to have been <i>parodied</i>. Among so many whimsical regulations +in favour of the licentious rabble, there was one which +forbad the circulation of money; if any one offered the coin +of the state, it was to be condemned as an act of madness, +and the man was brought to his senses by a penitential fast +for that day. An ingenious French antiquary seems to have +discovered a class of wretched medals, cast in lead or copper, +which formed the circulating medium of these mob lords, +who, to ridicule the idea of <i>money</i>, used the basest metals, +stamping them with grotesque figures, or odd devices—such +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page151" id="page151"></a>151</span> +as a sow; a chimerical bird; an imperator in his car, with a +monkey behind him; or an old woman’s head, <i>Acca Laurentia</i>, +either the traditional old nurse of Romulus, or an old courtesan +of the same name, who bequeathed the fruits of her labours +to the Roman people! As all things were done in mockery, +this base metal is stamped with S. C., to ridicule the <i>Senatûs +consulto</i>, which our antiquary happily explains,<a name="FnAnchor_89" id="FnAnchor_89" href="#Footnote_89"><span class="sp">89</span></a> in the true +spirit of this government of mockery, <i>Saturnalium consulto</i>, +agreeing with the legend of the reverse, inscribed in the +midst of four <i>tali</i>, or bones, which they used as dice, <i>Qui +ludit arram det, quod satis sit</i>—“Let them who play give a +pledge, which will be sufficient.” This mock-money served +not only as an expression of the native irony of the radical +gentry of Rome during their festival, but, had they spoken +their mind out, meant a ridicule of money itself; for these +citizens of equality have always imagined that society might +proceed without this contrivance of a medium which served +to represent property in which they themselves must so little +participate.</p> + +<p>A period so glorious for exhibiting the suppressed sentiments +of the populace as were these <i>Saturnalia</i>, had been +nearly lost for us, had not some notions been preserved by +Lucian; for we glean but sparingly from the solemn pages +of the historian, except in the remarkable instance which +Suetonius has preserved of the arch-mime who followed the +body of the Emperor Vespasian at his funeral. This officer, +as well as a similar one who accompanied the general to +whom they granted a triumph, and who was allowed the unrestrained +licentiousness of his tongue, were both the organs +of popular feeling, and studied to gratify the rabble, who +were their real masters. On this occasion the arch-mime, +representing both the exterior personage and the character +of Vespasian, according to custom, inquired the expense of the +funeral? He was answered, “ten millions of sesterces!” In +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page152" id="page152"></a>152</span> +allusion to the love of money which characterised the emperor, +his mock representative exclaimed, “Give me the money, and, +if you will, throw my body into the Tiber!”</p> + +<p>All these mock offices and festivals among the ancients I +consider as organs of the suppressed opinions and feelings +of the populace, who were allowed no other, and had not the +means of the printing ages to leave any permanent records. +At a later period, before the discovery of the art which multiplies +with such facility libels or panegyrics, when the +people could not speak freely against those rapacious clergy +who sheared the fleece and cared not for the sheep, many a +secret of popular indignation was confided not to books (for +they could not read), but to pictures and sculptures, which +are books which the people can always read. The sculptors +and illuminators of those times no doubt shared in common +the popular feelings, and boldly trusted to the paintings or +the carvings which met the eyes of their luxurious and indolent +masters their satirical inventions. As far back as in +1300, we find in Wolfius<a name="FnAnchor_90" id="FnAnchor_90" href="#Footnote_90"><span class="sp">90</span></a> the description of a picture of +this kind, in a MS. of Æsop’s Fables found in the Abbey of +Fulda, among other emblems of the corrupt lives of the +churchmen. The present was a wolf, large as life, wearing a +monkish cowl, with a shaven crown, preaching to a flock of +sheep, with these words of the apostle in a label from his mouth—“God +is my witness how I long for you all in my bowels!” +And underneath was inscribed—“This hooded wolf is the +hypocrite of whom is said in the Gospel, ‘Beware of false +prophets!’” Such exhibitions were often introduced into +articles of furniture. A cushion was found in an old abbey, in +which was worked a fox preaching to geese, each goose holding +in his bill his praying beads! In the stone wall, and on the +columns of the great church at Strasburg, was once viewed a +number of wolves, bears, foxes, and other mischievous animals, +carrying holy water, crucifixes, and tapers; and others more indelicate. +These, probably as old as the year 1300, were engraven +in 1617 by a protestant; and were not destroyed till 1685, by +the pious rage of the catholics, who seemed at length to have +rightly construed these silent lampoons; and in their turn +broke to pieces the protestant images, as the others had done +the papistical dolls. The carved seats and stalls in our own +cathedrals exhibit subjects not only strange and satirical, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page153" id="page153"></a>153</span> +but even indecent.<a name="FnAnchor_91" id="FnAnchor_91" href="#Footnote_91"><span class="sp">91</span></a> At the time they built churches they +satirised the ministers; a curious instance how the feelings +of the people struggle to find a vent. It is conjectured that +rival orders satirised each other, and that some of the carvings +are caricatures of certain monks. The margins of illuminated +manuscripts frequently contain ingenious caricatures, +or satirical allegories. In a magnificent chronicle of Froissart +I observed several. A wolf, as usual, in a monk’s frock +and cowl, stretching his paw to bless a cock, bending its head +submissively to the wolf: or a fox with a crosier, dropping +beads, which a cock is picking up; to satirise the blind devotion +of the bigots; perhaps the figure of the cock alluded to +our Gallic neighbours. A cat in the habit of a nun, holding +a platter in its paws to a mouse approaching to lick it; +alluding to the allurements of the abbesses to draw young +women into their convents; while sometimes I have seen a +sow in an abbess’s veil, mounted on stilts: the sex marked +by the sow’s dugs. A pope sometimes appears to be thrust +by devils into a cauldron; and cardinals are seen roasting +on spits! These <i>ornaments</i> must have been generally executed +by the monks themselves; but these more ingenious +members of the ecclesiastical order appear to have sympathised +with the people, like the curates in our church, and +envied the pampered abbot and the purple bishop. Churchmen +were the usual objects of the suppressed indignation of +the people in those days; but the knights and feudal lords +have not always escaped from the “curses not loud, but +deep,” of their satirical pencils.</p> + +<p>As the Reformation, or rather the Revolution, was hastening, +this custom became so general, that in one of the dialogues +of Erasmus, where two Franciscans are entertained +by their host, it appears that such satirical exhibitions were +hung up as common furniture in the apartments of inns. +The facetious genius of Erasmus either invents or describes +one which he had seen of an ape in the habit of a Franciscan +sitting by a sick man’s bed, dispensing ghostly counsel, +holding up a crucifix in one hand, while with the other he +is filching a purse out of the sick man’s pocket. Such +are “the straws” by which we may always observe from +what corner the wind rises! Mr. Dibdin has recently informed +us, that Geyler, whom he calls “the herald of the Reformation,” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page154" id="page154"></a>154</span> +preceding Luther by twelve years, had a stone +chair or pulpit in the cathedral at Strasburg, from which he +delivered his lectures, or rather rolled the thunders of his +anathemas against the monks. This stone pulpit was constructed +under his own superintendence, and is covered with +very indecent figures of monks and nuns, expressly designed +by him to expose their profligate manners. We see Geyler +doing what for centuries had been done!</p> + +<p>In the curious folios of Sauval, the Stowe of France, there +is a copious chapter, entitled “<i>Hérétiques, leurs attentats</i>.” +In this enumeration of their attempts to give vent to their +suppressed indignation, it is very remarkable that, <i>preceding +the time of Luther</i>, the minds of many were perfectly +<i>Lutheran</i> respecting the idolatrous worship of the Roman +Church; and what I now notice would have rightly entered +into that significant <i>Historia Reformationis ante Reformationem</i>, +which was formerly projected by continental writers.</p> + +<p>Luther did not consign the pope’s decretals to the flames +till 1520—this was the first open act of reformation and insurrection, +for hitherto he had submitted to the court of +Rome. Yet in 1490, thirty years preceding this great event, +I find a priest burnt for having snatched the host in derision +from the hands of another celebrating mass. Twelve years +afterwards, 1502, a student repeated the same deed, trampling +on it; and in 1523, the resolute death of Anne de Bourg, +a counsellor in the parliament of Paris, to use the expression +of Sauval, “corrupted the world.” It is evident that the +Huguenots were fast on the increase. From that period I +find continued accounts which prove that the Huguenots of +France, like the Puritans of England, were most resolute +iconoclasts. They struck off the heads of Virgins and little +Jesuses, or blunted their daggers by chipping the wooden +saints, which were then fixed at the corners of streets. +Every morning discovered the scandalous treatment they +had undergone in the night. Then their images were painted +on the walls, but these were heretically scratched and disfigured: +and, since the saints could not defend themselves, a +royal edict was published in their favour, commanding that +all holy paintings in the streets should not be allowed short +of ten feet from the ground! They entered churches at +night, tearing up or breaking down the <i>prians</i>, the <i>bénitoires</i>, +the crucifixes, the colossal <i>ecce-homos</i>, which they did not +always succeed in dislodging for want of time or tools. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page155" id="page155"></a>155</span> +Amidst these battles with wooden adversaries, we may smile +at the frequent solemn processions instituted to ward off the +vengeance of the parish saint; the wooden was expiated by a +silver image, secured by iron bars and attended by the king +and the nobility, carrying the new saint, with prayers that +he would protect himself from the heretics!</p> + +<p>In an early period of the Reformation, an instance occurs +of the art of concealing what we wish only the few should +comprehend, at the same time that we are addressing the +public. Curious collectors are acquainted with “The Olivetan +Bible;” this was the first translation published by the +protestants, and there seems no doubt that Calvin was the +chief, if not the only translator; but at that moment not +choosing to become responsible for this new version, he made +use of the name of an obscure relative, Robert Pierre Olivetan. +Calvin, however, prefixed a Latin preface, remarkable +for delivering positions very opposite to those tremendous +doctrines of absolute predestination which, in his theological +despotism, he afterwards assumed. De Bure describes this +first protestant Bible not only as rare, but, when found, as +usually imperfect, much soiled and dog-eared, as the well-read +first edition of Shakspeare, by the perpetual use of the +multitude. But a curious fact has escaped the detection +both of De Bure and Beloe; at the end of the volume are +found <i>ten verses</i>, which, in a concealed manner, authenticate +the translation; and which no one, unless initiated into the +secret, could possibly suspect. The verses are not poetical, +but I give the first sentence:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Lecteur entends, si vérité adresse</p> +<p>Viens donc ouyr instament sa promesse</p> +<p>Et vif parler———&c.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind"><i>The first letters of every word</i> of these <i>ten verses</i> form a perfect +distich, containing information important to those to +whom the Olivetan Bible was addressed.</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Les Vaudois, peuple évangélique,</p> +<p>Ont mis ce thrésor en publique.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>An anagram would have been too inartificial a contrivance +to have answered the purpose of concealing from the world at +large this secret. There is an adroitness in the invention of +the initial letters of all the words through these ten verses. +They contained a communication necessary to authenticate +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page156" id="page156"></a>156</span> +the version, but which, at the same time, could not be suspected +by any person not intrusted with the secret.</p> + +<p>When the art of medal-engraving was revived in Europe, +the spirit we are now noticing took possession of those less +perishable and more circulating vehicles. Satiric medals were +almost unknown to the ancient mint, notwithstanding those +of the Saturnalia, and a few which bear miserable puns on the +unlucky names of some consuls. Medals illustrate history, +and history reflects light on medals; but we should not place +such unreserved confidence on medals as their advocates, who +are warm in their favourite study. It has been asserted that +medals are more authentic memorials than history itself; but +a medal is not less susceptible of the bad passions than a +pamphlet or an epigram. Ambition has its vanity, and +engraves a dubious victory; and Flattery will practise its +art, and deceive us in gold! A calumny or a fiction on metal +may be more durable than on a fugitive page; and a libel +has a better chance of being preserved when the artist is +skilful, than simple truths when miserably executed. Medals +of this class are numerous, and were the precursors of those +political satires exhibited in caricature prints.<a name="FnAnchor_92" id="FnAnchor_92" href="#Footnote_92"><span class="sp">92</span></a> There is a +large collection of wooden cuts about the time of Calvin, +where the Romish religion is represented by the most grotesque +forms which the ridicule of the early Reformers +could invent. More than a thousand figures attest the exuberant +satire of the designers. This work is equally rare +and costly.<a name="FnAnchor_93" id="FnAnchor_93" href="#Footnote_93"><span class="sp">93</span></a></p> + +<p>Satires of this species commenced in the freedom of the +Reformation; for we find a medal of Luther in a monk’s +habit, satirically bearing for its reverse Catherine de Bora, +the nun whom this monk married; the first step of his personal +reformation! Nor can we be certain that Catherine +was not more concerned in that great revolution than appears +in the voluminous Lives we have of the great reformer. However, +the reformers were as great sticklers for medals as the +“papelins.” Of Pope John VIII., an effeminate voluptuary, +we have a medal with his portrait, inscribed <i>Pope Joan!</i> and +another of Innocent X., dressed as a woman holding a spindle; +the reverse, his famous mistress, Donna Olympia, dressed as +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page157" id="page157"></a>157</span> +a Pope, with the tiara on her head, and the keys of St. Peter +in her hands!<a name="FnAnchor_94" id="FnAnchor_94" href="#Footnote_94"><span class="sp">94</span></a></p> + +<p>When, in the reign of Mary, England was groaning under +Spanish influence, and no remonstrance could reach the +throne, the queen’s person and government were made ridiculous +to the people’s eyes by prints or pictures “representing +her majesty naked, meagre, withered, and wrinkled, with +every aggravated circumstance of deformity that could disgrace +a female figure, seated in a regal chair; a crown on her +head, surrounded with M. R. and A. in capitals, accompanied +by small letters; <i>Maria Regina Angliæ!</i> a number of Spaniards +were sucking her to skin and bone, and a specification +was added of the money, rings, jewels, and other presents +with which she had secretly gratified her husband Philip.”<a name="FnAnchor_95" id="FnAnchor_95" href="#Footnote_95"><span class="sp">95</span></a> +It is said that the queen suspected some of her own council +of this invention, who alone were privy to these transactions. +It is, however, in this manner that the voice which +is suppressed by authority comes at length in another shape +to the eye.</p> + +<p>The age of Elizabeth, when the Roman pontiff and all his +adherents were odious to the people, produced a remarkable +caricature, and ingenious invention—a gorgon’s head! A +church bell forms the helmet; the ornaments, instead of the +feathers, are a wolf’s head in a mitre devouring a lamb, an +ass’s head with spectacles reading, a goose holding a rosary: +the face is made out with a fish for the nose, a chalice and +water for the eye, and other priestly ornaments for the +shoulder and breast, on which rolls of parchment pardons +hang.<a name="FnAnchor_96" id="FnAnchor_96" href="#Footnote_96"><span class="sp">96</span></a></p> + +<p>A famous bishop of Munster, Bernard de Galen, who, in +his charitable violence for converting protestants, got himself +into such celebrity that he appears to have served as an excellent +<i>sign-post</i> to the inns in Germany, was the true church +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page158" id="page158"></a>158</span> +militant: and his figure was exhibited according to the +popular fancy. His head was half mitre and half helmet; a +crosier in one hand and a sabre in the other; half a rochet +and half a cuirass: he was made performing mass as a dragoon +on horseback, and giving out the charge when he ought +the <i>Ite, missa est!</i> He was called the <i>converter!</i> and the +“Bishop of Munster” became popular as a sign-post in +German towns; for the people like fighting men, though +they should even fight against themselves.</p> + +<p>It is rather curious to observe of this new species of satire, +so easily distributed among the people, and so directly addressed +to their understandings, that it was made the vehicle +of national feeling. Ministers of state condescended to invent +the devices. Lord Orford says that <i>caricatures on cards</i> were +the invention of George Townshend in the affair of Byng, +which was soon followed by a pack. I am informed of an +ancient pack of cards which has caricatures of all the Parliamentarian +Generals, which might be not unusefully shuffled +by a writer of secret history.<a name="FnAnchor_97" id="FnAnchor_97" href="#Footnote_97"><span class="sp">97</span></a> We may be surprised to find +the grave Sully practising this artifice on several occasions. +In the civil wars of France the Duke of Savoy had taken by +surprise Saluces, and struck a medal; on the reverse a centaur +appears shooting with a bow and arrow, with the legend <i>Opportune!</i> +But when Henry the Fourth had reconquered the +town, he published another, on which Hercules appears killing +the centaur, with the word <i>Opportunius</i>. The great minister +was the author of this retort!<a name="FnAnchor_98" id="FnAnchor_98" href="#Footnote_98"><span class="sp">98</span></a> A medal of the Dutch ambassador +at the court of France, Van Beuninghen, whom the +French represent as a haughty burgomaster, but who had the +vivacity of a Frenchman and the haughtiness of a Spaniard, +as Voltaire characterises him, is said to have been the occasion +of the Dutch war in 1672; but wars will be hardly made for +an idle medal. Medals may, however, indicate a preparatory +war. Louis the Fourteenth was so often compared to the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page159" id="page159"></a>159</span> +sun at its meridian, that some of his creatures may have +imagined that, like the sun, he could dart into any part of +Europe as he willed, and be as cheerfully received.<a name="FnAnchor_99" id="FnAnchor_99" href="#Footnote_99"><span class="sp">99</span></a> The +Dutch minister, whose Christian name was <i>Joshua</i>, however, +had a medal struck of Joshua stopping the sun in his course, +inferring that this miracle was operated by his little republic. +The medal itself is engraven in Van Loon’s voluminous <i>Histoire +Médallique du Pays Bas</i>, and in Marchand’s <i>Dictionnaire +Historique</i>, who labours to prove against twenty authors that +the Dutch ambassador was not the inventor; it was not, +however, unworthy of him, and it conveyed to the world the +high feeling of her power which Holland had then assumed. +Two years after the noise about this medal the republic paid +dear for the device; but thirty years afterwards this very +burgomaster concluded a glorious peace, and France and +Spain were compelled to receive the mediation of the Dutch +Joshua with the French Sun.<a name="FnAnchor_100" id="FnAnchor_100" href="#Footnote_100"><span class="sp">100</span></a> In these vehicles of national +satire, it is odd that the phlegmatic Dutch, more than any +other nation, and from the earliest period of their republic, +should have indulged freely, if not licentiously. It was a +republican humour. Their taste was usually gross. We owe +to them, even in the reign of Elizabeth, a severe medal on +Leicester, who, having retired in disgust from the government +of their provinces, struck a medal with his bust, reverse a dog +and sheep,</p> + +<p class="center1 f90"><i>Non gregem, sed ingratos invitus desero;</i></p> + +<p class="noind">on which the angry juvenile states struck another, representing +an ape and young ones; reverse, Leicester near a fire,</p> + +<p class="center1 f90"><i>Fugiens fumum, incidit in ignem.</i></p> + +<p class="noind">Another medal, with an excellent portrait of Cromwell, was +struck by the Dutch. The Protector, crowned with laurels, +is on his knees, laying his head in the lap of the commonwealth, +but loosely exhibiting himself to the French and +Spanish ambassadors with gross indecency: the Frenchman, +covered with <i>fleur de lis</i>, is pushing aside the grave Don, and +disputes with him the precedence—<i>Retire-toy; l’honneur</i> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page160" id="page160"></a>160</span> +<i>appartient au roy mon maitre, Louis le Grand</i>. Van Loon +is very right in denouncing this same medal, so grossly flattering +to the English, as most detestable and indelicate! +But why does Van Loon envy us this lumpish invention? +why does the Dutchman quarrel with his own cheese? The +honour of the medal we claim, but the invention belongs to +his country. The Dutch went on commenting in this manner +on English affairs from reign to reign. Charles the Second +declared war against them in 1672 for a malicious medal, +though the States-General offered to break the die, by purchasing +it of the workman for one thousand ducats; but it +served for a pretext for a Dutch war, which Charles cared +more about than the <i>mala bestia</i> of his exergue. Charles also +complained of a scandalous picture which the brothers de +Witt had in their house, representing a naval battle with +the English. Charles the Second seems to have been more +sensible to this sort of national satire than we might have +expected in a professed wit; a race, however, who are not the +most patient in having their own sauce returned to their lips. +The king employed Evelyn to write a history of the Dutch +war, and “enjoined him <i>to make it a little keen</i>, for the Hollanders +had very unhandsomely abused him in their pictures, +books, and libels.” The Dutch continued their career of conveying +their national feeling on English affairs more triumphantly +when their Stadtholder ascended an English throne. +The birth of the Pretender is represented by the chest which +Minerva gave to the daughters of Cecrops to keep, and which, +opened, discovered an infant with a serpent’s tail: <i>Infantemque +vident apporrectumque draconem</i>; the chest perhaps +alluding to the removes of the warming-pan; and, in another, +James and a Jesuit flying in terror, the king throwing away +a crown and sceptre, and the Jesuit carrying a child; <i>Ite +missa est</i>, the words applied from the mass.<a name="FnAnchor_101" id="FnAnchor_101" href="#Footnote_101"><span class="sp">101</span></a> But in these +contests of national feeling, while the grandeur of Louis the +Fourteenth did not allow of these ludicrous and satirical +exhibitions, and while the political idolatry which his forty +Academicians paid to him exhausted itself in the splendid +fictions of a series of famous medals, amounting to nearly +four hundred, it appears that we were not without our reprisals; +for I find Prosper Marchand, who writes as a Hollander, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page161" id="page161"></a>161</span> +censuring his own country for having at length adulated +the grand monarque by a complimentary medal. He +says—“The English cannot be reproached with a similar +<i>debonaireté</i>.” After the famous victories of Marlborough, +they indeed inserted in a medal the head of the French +monarch and the English queen, with this inscription, +<i>Ludovicus Magnus, Anna Major</i>. Long ere this one of our +queens had been exhibited by ourselves with considerable +energy. On the defeat of the Armada, Elizabeth, Pinkerton +tells us, struck a medal representing the English and Spanish +fleets, <i>Hesperidum regem devicit virgo</i>. Philip had medals +dispersed in England of the same impression, with this addition, +<i>Negatur. Est meretrix vulgi.</i> These the queen suppressed, +but published another medal, with this legend:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Hesperidum regem devicit virgo; negatur,</p> +<p>Est meretrix vulgi; res eo deterior.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">An age fertile in satirical prints was the eventful æra of +Charles the First: they were showered from all parties, and +a large collection of them would admit of a critical historical +commentary, which might become a vehicle of the most +curious secret history. Most of them are in a bad style, for +they are allegorical; yet that these satirical exhibitions influenced +the eyes and minds of the people is evident from an +extraordinary circumstance. Two grave collections of historical +documents adopted them. We are surprised to find +prefixed to Rushworth’s and Nalson’s historical collections +two such political prints! Nalson’s was an act of retributive +justice; but he seems to have been aware that satire in the +shape of pictures is a language very attractive to the multitude, +for he has introduced a caricature print in the solemn +folio of the Trial of Charles the First.<a name="FnAnchor_102" id="FnAnchor_102" href="#Footnote_102"><span class="sp">102</span></a> Of the happiest of +these political prints is one by Taylor the Water-poet, not +included in his folio, but prefixed to his “Mad Fashions, Odd +Fashions, or the Emblems of these Distracted Times.” It is +the figure of a man whose eyes have left their sockets, and +whose legs have usurped the place of his arms; a horse on +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page162" id="page162"></a>162</span> +his hind legs is drawing a cart; a church is inverted; fish fly +in the air; a candle burns with the flame downwards; and +the mouse and rabbit are pursuing the cat and the fox!</p> + +<p>The animosities of national hatred have been a fertile source +of these vehicles of popular feeling—which discover themselves +in severe or grotesque caricatures. The French and +the Spaniards mutually exhibit one another under the most +extravagant figures. The political caricatures of the French +in the seventeenth century are numerous. The <i>badauds</i> of +Paris amused themselves for their losses by giving an emetic +to a Spaniard, to make him render up all the towns his victories +had obtained: seven or eight Spaniards are seen seated +around a large turnip, with their frizzled mustachios, their +hats <i>en pot-à-beurre</i>; their long rapiers, with their pummels +down to their feet, and their points up to their shoulders; +their ruffs stiffened by many rows, and pieces of garlick stuck +in their girdles. The Dutch were exhibited in as great variety +as the uniformity of frogs would allow. We have largely +participated in the vindictive spirit which these grotesque +emblems keep up among the people; they mark the secret +feelings of national pride. The Greeks despised foreigners, +and considered them only as fit to be slaves;<a name="FnAnchor_103" id="FnAnchor_103" href="#Footnote_103"><span class="sp">103</span></a> the ancient +Jews, inflated with a false idea of their small territory, would +be masters of the world: the Italians placed a line of demarcation +for genius and taste, and marked it by their mountains. +The Spaniards once imagined that the conferences of God +with Moses on Mount Sinai were in the Spanish language. +If a Japanese become the friend of a foreigner, he is considered +as committing treason to his emperor, and rejected +as a false brother in a country which, we are told, is figuratively +called <i>Tenka</i>, or the Kingdom under the Heavens. +John Bullism is not peculiar to Englishmen; and patriotism +is a noble virtue when it secures our independence without +depriving us of our humanity.</p> + +<p>The civil wars of the League in France, and those in England +under Charles the First, bear the most striking resemblance; +and in examining the revolutionary scenes exhibited +by the graver in the famous <i>Satire Ménippée</i>, we discover the +foreign artist revelling in the <i>caricature</i> of his ludicrous and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page163" id="page163"></a>163</span> +severe exhibition; and in that other revolutionary period of +<i>La Fronde</i>, there was a mania for <i>political songs</i>; the curious +have formed them into collections; and we not only have +“the Rump Songs” of Charles the First’s times, but have +repeated this kind of evidence of the public feeling at many +subsequent periods.<a name="FnAnchor_104" id="FnAnchor_104" href="#Footnote_104"><span class="sp">104</span></a> <i>Caricatures</i> and <i>political songs</i> might +with us furnish a new sort of history; and perhaps would +preserve some truths, and describe some particular events +not to be found in more grave authorities.</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_89" id="Footnote_89" href="#FnAnchor_89"><span class="fn">89</span></a> Baudelot de Dairval, <i>de l’Utilité des Voyages</i>, ii. 645. There is a +work, by Ficoroni, on these lead <i>coins</i> or <i>tickets</i>. They are found in the +cabinets of the curious medallist. Pinkerton, in referring to this entertaining +work, regrets that “such curious remains have almost escaped the +notice of medallists, and have not yet been arranged in one class, or named. +A special work on them would be highly acceptable.” The time has perhaps +arrived when antiquaries may begin to be philosophers, and philosophers +antiquaries! The unhappy separation of erudition from philosophy, +and of philosophy from erudition, has hitherto thrown impediments in the +progress of the human mind and the history of man.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_90" id="Footnote_90" href="#FnAnchor_90"><span class="fn">90</span></a> Lect. Mem. i. ad. an. 1300.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_91" id="Footnote_91" href="#FnAnchor_91"><span class="fn">91</span></a> Many specimens may be seen in Carter’s curious volumes on “Ancient +Architecture and Painting.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_92" id="Footnote_92" href="#FnAnchor_92"><span class="fn">92</span></a> The series published during the wars in the Low Countries are the +most remarkable, and may be seen in the volumes by Van Loon.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_93" id="Footnote_93" href="#FnAnchor_93"><span class="fn">93</span></a> Mr. Douce possessed a portion of this very curious collection: for a +complete one De Bure asked about twenty pounds.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_94" id="Footnote_94" href="#FnAnchor_94"><span class="fn">94</span></a> The Roman satirists also invented a tale to ridicule what they dared not +openly condemn, in which it was asserted that a play called <i>The Marriage +of the Pope</i> was enacted before Cromwell, in which the Donna having obtained +the key of Paradise from Innocent, insists on that of Purgatory also, +that she may not be sent there when he is wearied of her. “The wedding” +is then kept by a ball of monks and nuns, delighted to think they may one +day marry also. Such was the means the Romans took to notify their sense +of the degradation of the pope.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_95" id="Footnote_95" href="#FnAnchor_95"><span class="fn">95</span></a> Warton’s “Life of Sir Thomas Pope,” p. 58.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_96" id="Footnote_96" href="#FnAnchor_96"><span class="fn">96</span></a> This ancient caricature, so descriptive of the popular feelings, is tolerably +given in Malcolm’s history of “Caricaturing,” plate ii. fig. 1.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_97" id="Footnote_97" href="#FnAnchor_97"><span class="fn">97</span></a> This pack was probably executed in Holland in the time of Charles +the Second. There are other sets of political cards of the same reign, +particularly one connected with the so-called “popish plots,” and the +murder of Sir Edmundbury Godfrey. The South-Sea Bubble was made +the subject of a similar pack, after it had exploded.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_98" id="Footnote_98" href="#FnAnchor_98"><span class="fn">98</span></a> The royal house of Navarre was fancifully derived by the old heraldic +writers from Hispalus, the son of Hercules; and the pageant provided by +the citizens of Avignon to greet his entrance there in 1600, was entirely +composed in reference thereto, and Henry indicated in its title, <i>L’Hercule +Gaulois Triumphant</i>.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_99" id="Footnote_99" href="#FnAnchor_99"><span class="fn">99</span></a> He took for a device and motto on his shield on the occasion of +tilting-matches and court festivities, a representation of the sun in splendour, +and the words, <i>Nec Pluribus Impar</i>.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_100" id="Footnote_100" href="#FnAnchor_100"><span class="fn">100</span></a> The history of this medal is useful in more than one respect; and +may be found in Prosper Marchand.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_101" id="Footnote_101" href="#FnAnchor_101"><span class="fn">101</span></a> Another represents the young prince holding the symbol of the Romish +faith in his right hand, and crowning himself with the left; Truth opens +a door below and discovers Father Petre, as the guiding influence of all.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_102" id="Footnote_102" href="#FnAnchor_102"><span class="fn">102</span></a> It represents Cromwell as an armed monster, carrying the three +kingdoms captive at his feet in a triumphal car driven by the devil over +the body of liberty, and the decapitated Charles I. The state of the +people is emblematized by a bird flying from its cage to be devoured by a +hawk; and sheep breaking from the fold to be set on by ravening +wolves.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_103" id="Footnote_103" href="#FnAnchor_103"><span class="fn">103</span></a> A passage may be found in Aristotle’s Politics, vol. i. c. 3-7; where +Aristotle advises Alexander to govern the Greeks like his <i>subjects</i>, and the +barbarians like <i>slaves</i>; for that the one he was to consider as companions, +and the other as creatures of an inferior race.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_104" id="Footnote_104" href="#FnAnchor_104"><span class="fn">104</span></a> The following may be mentioned as the most important of these collections:—</p> + +<p>“Rome rhymed to Death.” 1683.</p> + +<p>“A Collection of the newest and most ingenious Poems, Songs, Catches, +&c, against Popery.” 1689.</p> + +<p>“Poems on Affairs of State.” 1703-7.</p> + +<p>“Whig and Tory; or, Wit on both sides.” 1712.</p> + +<p>“Political Merriment; or, Truths told to some Tune.” 1714.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>AUTOGRAPHS.<a name="FnAnchor_105" id="FnAnchor_105" href="#Footnote_105"><span class="sp">105</span></a></h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">The</span> art of judging of the characters of persons by their +handwriting can only have any reality when the pen, acting +without restraint, becomes an instrument guided by, and +indicative of, the natural dispositions. But regulated as the +pen is now too often by a mechanical process, which the present +race of writing-masters seem to have contrived for their +own convenience, a whole school exhibits a similar handwriting; +the pupils are forced in their automatic motions, +as if acted on by the pressure of a steam-engine; a bevy of +beauties will now write such fac-similes of each other, that in +a heap of letters presented to the most sharp-sighted lover to +select that of his mistress—though, like Bassanio among the +caskets, his happiness should be risked on the choice—he +would despair of fixing on the right one, all appearing to +have come from the same rolling-press. Even brothers of +different tempers have been taught by the same master to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page164" id="page164"></a>164</span> +give the same form to their letters, the same regularity to +their line, and have made our handwritings as monotonous +as are our characters in the present habits of society. The +true physiognomy of writing will be lost among our rising +generation: it is no longer a face that we are looking on, but +a beautiful mask of a single pattern; and the fashionable +handwriting of our young ladies is like the former tight-lacing +of their mothers’ youthful days, when every one alike +had what was supposed to be a fine shape!</p> + +<p>Assuredly nature would prompt every individual to have a +distinct sort of writing, as she has given a peculiar countenance—a +voice—and a manner. The flexibility of the +muscles differs with every individual, and the hand will follow +the direction of the thoughts and the emotions and the +habits of the writers. The phlegmatic will portray his words, +while the playful haste of the volatile will scarcely sketch +them; the slovenly will blot and efface and scrawl, while the +neat and orderly-minded will view themselves in the paper +before their eyes. The merchant’s clerk will not write like +the lawyer or the poet. Even nations are distinguished by +their writing; the vivacity and variableness of the Frenchman, +and the delicacy and suppleness of the Italian, are +perceptibly distinct from the slowness and strength of pen +discoverable in the phlegmatic German, Dane, and Swede. +When we are in grief, we do not write as we should in joy. +The elegant and correct mind, which has acquired the fortunate +habit of a fixity of attention, will write with scarcely an +erasure on the page, as Fenelon, and Gray, and Gibbon; while +we find in Pope’s manuscripts the perpetual struggles of correction, +and the eager and rapid interlineations struck off in +heat. Lavater’s notion of handwriting is by no means +chimerical; nor was General Paoli fanciful, when he told Mr. +Northcote that he had decided on the character and dispositions +of a man from his letters, and the handwriting.</p> + +<p>Long before the days of Lavater, Shenstone in one of his +letters said, “I want to see Mrs. Jago’s handwriting, that I +may judge of her temper.” One great truth must however +be conceded to the opponents of <i>the physiognomy of writing</i>; +general rules only can be laid down. Yet the vital principle +must be true that the handwriting bears an analogy to the +character of the writer, as all voluntary actions are characteristic +of the individual. But many causes operate to counteract +or obstruct this result. I am intimately acquainted +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page165" id="page165"></a>165</span> +with the handwritings of five of our great poets. The first +in early life acquired among Scottish advocates a handwriting +which cannot be distinguished from that of his ordinary +brothers; the second, educated in public schools, where +writing is shamefully neglected, composes his sublime or +sportive verses in a school-boy’s ragged scrawl, as if he had +never finished his tasks with the writing-master; the third +writes his highly-wrought poetry in the common hand of a +merchant’s clerk, from early commercial avocations; the +fourth has all that finished neatness which polishes his verses; +while the fifth is a specimen of a full mind, not in the habit +of correction or alteration; so that he appears to be printing +down his thoughts, without a solitary erasure. The handwriting +of the <i>first</i> and <i>third</i> poets, not indicative of their +character, we have accounted for; the others are admirable +specimens of characteristic autographs.<a name="FnAnchor_106" id="FnAnchor_106" href="#Footnote_106"><span class="sp">106</span></a></p> + +<p>Oldys, in one of his curious notes, was struck by the distinctness +of character in the handwritings of several of our +kings. He observed nothing further than the mere fact, and +did not extend his idea to the art of judging of the natural +character by the writing. Oldys has described these handwritings +with the utmost correctness, as I have often verified. +I shall add a few comments.</p> + +<p>“Henry the Eighth wrote a strong hand, but as if he had +seldom a good pen.”—The vehemence of his character conveyed +itself into his writing; bold, hasty, and commanding, I +have no doubt the assertor of the Pope’s supremacy and its +triumphant destroyer split many a good quill.</p> + +<p>“Edward the Sixth wrote a fair legible hand.”—We have +this promising young prince’s diary, written by his own hand; +in all respects he was an assiduous pupil, and he had scarcely +learnt to write and to reign when we lost him.</p> + +<p>“Queen Elizabeth writ an upright hand, like the bastard +Italian.” She was indeed a most elegant caligrapher, whom +Roger Ascham<a name="FnAnchor_107" id="FnAnchor_107" href="#Footnote_107"><span class="sp">107</span></a> had taught all the elegancies of the pen. +The French editor of the little autographical work I have +noticed has given the autograph of her name, which she +usually wrote in a very large tall character, and painfully +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page166" id="page166"></a>166</span> +elaborate. He accompanies it with one of the Scottish Mary, +who at times wrote elegantly, though usually in uneven lines; +when in haste and distress of mind, in several letters during +her imprisonment which I have read, much the contrary. +The French editor makes this observation: ”Who could +believe that these writings are of the same epoch? The first +denotes asperity and ostentation; the second indicates +simplicity, softness, and nobleness. The one is that of Elizabeth, +queen of England; the other that of her cousin, Mary +Stuart. The difference of these two handwritings answers +most evidently to that of their characters.”</p> + +<p>“James the First writ a poor ungainly character, all awry, +and not in a straight line.” James certainly wrote a slovenly +scrawl, strongly indicative of that personal negligence which +he carried into all the little things of life; and Buchanan, who +had made him an excellent scholar, may receive the disgrace +of his pupil’s ugly scribble, which sprawls about his careless +and inelegant letters.</p> + +<p>“Charles the First wrote a fair open Italian hand, and +more correctly perhaps than any prince we ever had.” +Charles was the first of our monarchs who intended to have +domiciliated taste in the kingdom, and it might have been +conjectured from this unfortunate prince, who so finely +discriminated the manners of the different painters, which are +in fact their handwritings, that he would not have been +insensible to the elegancies of the pen.</p> + +<p>“Charles the Second wrote a little fair running hand, as if +wrote in haste, or uneasy till he had done.” Such was the +writing to have been expected from this illustrious vagabond, +who had much to write, often in odd situations, and could +never get rid of his natural restlessness and vivacity.</p> + +<p>“James the Second writ a large fair hand.” It is characterised +by his phlegmatic temper, as an exact detailer of +occurrences, and the matter-of-business genius of the writer.</p> + +<p>“Queen Anne wrote a fair round hand;” that is the +writing she had been taught by her master, probably without +any alteration of manner naturally suggested by herself; the +copying hand of a common character.<a name="FnAnchor_108" id="FnAnchor_108" href="#Footnote_108"><span class="sp">108</span></a></p> + +<p>The subject of autographs associates itself with what has +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page167" id="page167"></a>167</span> +been dignified by its professors as caligraphy, or the art of +beautiful writing. As I have something curious to communicate +on that subject considered professionally, it shall form +our following article.</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_105" id="Footnote_105" href="#FnAnchor_105"><span class="fn">105</span></a> A small volume which I met with at Paris, entitled “L’Art de juger +du Caractère des Hommes sur leurs Ecritures,” is curious for its illustrations, +consisting of <i>twenty-four plates, exhibiting fac-similes of the +writing of eminent and other persons</i>, correctly taken from the original +autographs. Since this period both France and Germany have produced +many books devoted to the use of the curious in autographs. In our own +country J.T. Smith published a curious collection of fac-similes of letters, +chiefly from literary characters.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_106" id="Footnote_106" href="#FnAnchor_106"><span class="fn">106</span></a> It will be of interest to the reader to note the names of these poets in +the consecutive order they are alluded to. They are Scott, Byron, Rogers, +Moore, and Campbell.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_107" id="Footnote_107" href="#FnAnchor_107"><span class="fn">107</span></a> He was also the tutor of Lady Jane Grey, and the author of one of our +earliest and best works on education.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_108" id="Footnote_108" href="#FnAnchor_108"><span class="fn">108</span></a> Since this article was written, Nichols has published a cleverly-executed +series of autographs of royal, noble, and illustrious persons of +Great Britain, in which the reader may study the accuracy of the criticism +above given.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>THE HISTORY OF WRITING-MASTERS.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">There</span> is a very apt letter from James the First to Prince +Henry when very young, on the neatness and fairness of his +handwriting. The royal father suspecting that the prince’s +tutor, Mr., afterwards Sir Adam, Newton, had helped out the +young prince in the composition, and that in this specimen +of caligraphy he had relied also on the pains of Mr. Peter +Bales, the great writing-master, for touching up his letters, +his majesty shows a laudable anxiety that the prince should +be impressed with the higher importance of the one over the +other. James shall himself speak. “I confess I long to +receive a letter from you that may be wholly yours, as well +matter as form; as well formed by your mind as drawn by +your fingers; for ye may remember, that in my book to you I +warn you to beware with (of) that kind of wit that may fly +out at the end of your fingers; not that I commend not a fair +handwriting; <i>sed hoc facito, illud non omittito</i>: and the other +is <i>multo magis præcipuum</i>.” Prince Henry, indeed, wrote +with that elegance which he borrowed from his own mind; +and in an age when such minute elegance was not universal +among the crowned heads of Europe. Henry IV., on receiving +a letter from Prince Henry, immediately opened it, a custom +not usual with him, and comparing the writing with the +signature, to decide whether it were of one hand, Sir George +Carew, observing the French King’s hesitation, called Mr. +Douglas to testify to the fact; on which Henry the Great, +admiring an art in which he had little skill, and looking on +the neat elegance of the writing before him, politely observed, +“I see that in writing fair, as in other things, the elder must +yield to the younger.”</p> + +<p>Had this anecdote of neat writing reached the professors +of caligraphy, who in this country have put forth such painful +panegyrics on the art, these royal names had unquestionably +blazoned their pages. Not indeed that these penmen +require any fresh inflation; for never has there been a race of +professors in any art who have exceeded in solemnity and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page168" id="page168"></a>168</span> +pretensions the practitioners in this simple and mechanical +craft. I must leave to more ingenious investigators of +human nature to reveal the occult cause which has operated +such powerful delusions on these “Vive la Plume!” men, +who have been generally observed to possess least intellectual +ability in proportion to the excellence they have obtained in +their own art. I suspect this maniacal vanity is peculiar to +the writing-masters of England; and I can only attribute +the immense importance which they have conceived of their +art to the perfection to which they have carried the art of +short-hand writing; an art which was always better understood, +and more skilfully practised, in England than in any +other country. It will surprise some when they learn that +the artists in verse and colours, poets and painters, have not +raised loftier pretensions to the admiration of mankind. +Writing-masters, or caligraphers, have had their engraved +“effigies,” with a Fame in flourishes, a pen in one hand and +a trumpet in the other; and fine verses inscribed, and their +very lives written! They have compared</p> + +<p class="center1 f90">The nimbly-turning of their silver quill</p> + +<p class="noind">to the beautiful in art and the sublime in invention; nor is +this wonderful, since they discover the art of writing, like the +invention of language, in a divine original; and from the +tablets of stone which the Deity himself delivered, they +trace their German broad text, or their fine running-hand. +One, for “the bold striking of those words, <i>Vive la Plume</i>,” +was so sensible of the reputation that this last piece of command +of hand would give the book which he thus adorned, +and which his biographer acknowledges was the product of +about a minute,—(but then how many years of flourishing +had that single minute cost him!)—that he claims the glory +of an artist; observing,—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + + <p class="i9">We seldom find</p> +<p>The <i>man of business</i> with the <i>artist</i> join’d.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">Another was flattered that his <i>writing</i> could impart immortality +to the most wretched compositions!—</p> + +<p class="center1 f90">And any lines prove pleasing, when you write.</p> + +<p class="noind">Sometimes the caligrapher is a sort of hero:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>To you, you rare commander of the quill,</p> +<p>Whose wit and worth, deep learning, and high skill,</p> +<p>Speak you the honour of Great Tower Hill!</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page169" id="page169"></a>169</span></p> + +<p class="noind">The last line became traditionally adopted by those who were +so lucky as to live in the neighbourhood of this Parnassus. +But the reader must form some notion of that charm of caligraphy +which has so bewitched its professors, when,</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Soft, bold, and free, your manuscripts still please.</p> + +<p class="s">How justly bold in <span class="sc">Snell’s</span> improving hand</p> +<p>The pen at once joins freedom with command!</p> +<p>With softness strong, with ornaments not vain,</p> +<p>Loose with proportion, and with neatness plain;</p> +<p>Not swell’d, not full, complete in every part,</p> +<p>And artful most, when not affecting art.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>And these describe those pencilled knots and flourishes, +“the angels, the men, the birds, and the beasts,” which, as +one of them observed, he could</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + + <p class="i10">Command</p> +<p>Even by the <i>gentle motion of his hand</i>,</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">all the <i>speciosa miracula</i> of caligraphy;</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Thy <i>tender strokes</i>, inimitably fine,</p> +<p>Crown with perfection every <i>flowing line</i>;</p> +<p>And to each <i>grand performance</i> add a grace,</p> +<p>As <i>curling hair</i> adorns a beauteous face:</p> +<p>In every page <i>new fancies</i> give delight,</p> +<p>And <i>sporting round the margin</i> charm the sight.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>One Massey, a writing-master, published in 1763, “The +Origin and Progress of Letters.” The great singularity of +this volume is “a new species of biography never attempted +before in English.” This consists of the lives of “English +Penmen,” otherwise writing-masters! If some have foolishly +enough imagined that the sedentary lives of authors are void +of interest from deficient incident and interesting catastrophe, +what must they think of the barren labours of those who, in +the degree they become eminent, to use their own style, in +the art of “dish, dash, long-tail fly,” the less they become +interesting to the public; for what can the most skilful +writing-master do but wear away his life in leaning over his +pupil’s copy, or sometimes snatch a pen to decorate the +margin, though he cannot compose the page? Montaigne has a +very original notion on writing-masters: he says that some of +those caligraphers who had obtained promotion by their excellence +in the art, afterwards <i>affected to write carelessly, +lest their promotion should be suspected to have been owing to +such an ordinary acquisition</i>!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page170" id="page170"></a>170</span></p> + +<p>Massey is an enthusiast, fortunately for his subject. He +considers that there are <i>schools of writing</i>, as well as of +painting or sculpture; and expatiates with the eye of fraternal +feeling on “a natural genius, a tender stroke, a grand +performance, a bold striking freedom, and a liveliness in the +sprigged letters, and pencilled knots and flourishes;” while +this Vasari of writing-masters relates the controversies and +the libels of many a rival pen-nibber. “George Shelley, one +of the most celebrated worthies who have made a shining +figure in the commonwealth of English caligraphy, born I +suppose of obscure parents, because brought up in Christ’s +Hospital, yet under the humble blue-coat he laid the foundation +of his caligraphic excellence and lasting fame, for he was +elected writing-master to the hospital.” Shelley published +his “Natural Writing;” but, alas! Snell, another blue-coat, +transcended the other. He was a genius who would “bear +no brother near the throne.”—“I have been informed that +there were jealous heart-burnings, if not bickerings, between +him and Col. Ayres, another of our <i>great reformers</i> in the +writing commonweal, both eminent men, yet, <i>like</i> our most +celebrated poets <i>Pope and Addison</i>, or, to carry the comparison +still higher, like <i>Cæsar and Pompey</i>, one could bear +no superior, and the other no equal.” Indeed, the great +Snell practised a little stratagem against Mr. Shelley, for +which, if writing-masters held courts-martial, this hero ought +to have appeared before his brothers. In one of his works +he procured a number of friends to write letters, in which +Massey confesses “are some satyrical strokes upon Shelley,” +as if he had arrogated too much to himself in his book of +“Natural Writing.” They find great fault with pencilled +knots and sprigged letters. Shelley, who was an advocate +for ornaments in fine penmanship, which Snell utterly rejected, +had parodied a well-known line of Herbert’s in favour +of his favourite decorations:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>A <i>Knot</i> may take him who from <i>letters</i> flies,</p> +<p>And turn <i>delight</i> into an <i>exercise</i>.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">These reflections created ill-blood, and even an open difference +amongst several of the <i>superior artists in writing</i>. The +commanding genius of Snell had a more terrific contest when +he published his “Standard Rules,” pretending to have <i>demonstrated</i> +them as Euclid would. “This proved a bone of +contention, and occasioned a terrific quarrel between Mr. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page171" id="page171"></a>171</span> +Snell and Mr. Clark. This quarrel about ‘Standard Rules’ +ran so high between them, that they could scarce forbear +<i>scurrilous language</i> therein, and a treatment of each other +unbecoming <i>gentlemen</i>! Both sides in this dispute had their +abettors; and to say which had the most truth and reason, +<i>non nostrum est tantas componere lites</i>; perhaps <i>both parties +might be too fond of their own schemes</i>. They should have +left them to people to choose which they liked best.” A +candid politician is our Massey, and a philosophical historian +too; for he winds up the whole story of this civil war by +describing its result, which happened as all such great controversies +have ever closed. “Who now-a-days takes those +<i>Standard Rules</i>, either one or the other, for their <i>guide</i> in +writing?” This is the finest lesson ever offered to the +furious heads of parties, and to all their men; let them meditate +on the nothingness of their “Standard Rules,” by the +fate of Mr. Snell.</p> + +<p>It was to be expected, when once these writing-masters +imagined that they were artists, that they would be infected +with those plague-spots of genius—envy, detraction, and all +the <i>jalousie du métier</i>. And such to this hour we find +them! An extraordinary scene of this nature has long been +exhibited in my neighbourhood, where two doughty champions +of the quill have been posting up libels in their windows +respecting the inventor of <i>a new art of writing</i>, the +Carstairian, or the Lewisian? When the great German philosopher +asserted that he had discovered the method of +fluxions before Sir Isaac, and when the dispute grew so violent +that even the calm Newton sent a formal defiance in set +terms, and got even George the Second to try to arbitrate +(who would rather have undertaken a campaign), the +method of fluxions was no more cleared up than the present +affair between our two heroes of the quill.</p> + +<p>A recent instance of one of these egregious caligraphers +may be told of the late Tomkins. This vainest of writing-masters +dreamed through life that penmanship was one of +the fine arts, and that a writing-master should be seated with +his peers in the Academy! He bequeathed to the British +Museum his <i>opus magnum</i>—a copy of Macklin’s Bible, profusely +embellished with the most beautiful and varied decorations +of his pen; and as he conceived that both the workman +and the work would alike be darling objects with posterity, +he left something immortal with the legacy, his fine +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page172" id="page172"></a>172</span> +bust, by Chantrey, unaccompanied by which they were not +to receive the unparalleled gift! When Tomkins applied to +have his bust, our great sculptor abated the usual price, and, +courteously kind to the feelings of the man, said that he +considered Tomkins as an artist! It was the proudest day +of the life of our writing-master!</p> + +<p>But an eminent artist and wit now living, once looking on +this fine bust of Tomkins, declared, that “this man had died +for want of a dinner!”—a fate, however, not so lamentable as +it appeared! Our penman had long felt that he stood degraded +in the scale of genius by not being received at the +Academy, at least among the class of <i>engravers</i>; the next +approach to academic honour he conceived would be that of +appearing as a <i>guest</i> at their annual dinner. These invitations +are as limited as they are select, and all the Academy +persisted in considering Tomkins <i>as a writing-master</i>! Many a +year passed, every intrigue was practised, every remonstrance +was urged, every stratagem of courtesy was tried; but never +ceasing to deplore the failure of his hopes, it preyed on his +spirits, and the luckless caligrapher went down to his grave—without +dining at the Academy! This authentic anecdote +has been considered as “satire improperly directed”—by +some friend of Mr. Tomkins—but the criticism is much too +grave! The foible of Mr. Tomkins as a writing-master presents +a striking illustration of the class of men here delineated. +I am a mere historian—and am only responsible for the veracity +of this fact. That “Mr. Tomkins lived in familiar +intercourse with the Royal Academicians of his day, and was +a frequent guest at their private tables,” and moreover was +a most worthy man, I believe—but is it less true that he was +ridiculously mortified by being never invited to the Academic +dinner, on account of his caligraphy? He had some reason +to consider that his art was of the exalted class to which he +aspired to raise it, when this friend concludes his eulogy of +this writing-master thus—“Mr. Tomkins, as an artist, stood +foremost in his own profession, and his name will be handed +down to posterity with the <i>Heroes</i> and <i>Statesmen</i>, whose +excellences his <i>penmanship</i> has contributed to illustrate and +to commemorate.” I always give the <i>Pour</i> and the <i>Contre</i>!</p> + +<p>Such men about such things have produced public contests, +<i>combats a l’outrance</i>, where much ink was spilled by the +knights in a joust of goose-quills; these solemn trials have +often occurred in the history of writing-masters, which is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page173" id="page173"></a>173</span> +enlivened by public defiances, proclamations, and judicial +trials by umpires! The prize was usually a golden pen of +some value. One as late as in the reign of Anne took place between +Mr. German and Mr. More. German having courteously +insisted that Mr. More should set the copy, he thus +set it, ingeniously quaint!</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>As more, and <span class="sc">More</span>, our understanding clears,</p> +<p>So more and more our ignorance appears.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">The result of this pen-combat was really lamentable; they +displayed such an equality of excellence that the umpires refused +to decide, till one of them espied that Mr. German had +omitted the tittle of an i! But Mr. More was evidently a +man of genius, not only by his couplet, but in his “Essay on +the Invention of Writing,” where occurs this noble passage: +“Art with me is of no party. A noble emulation I would +cherish, while it proceeded neither from, nor to malevolence. +Bales had his Johnson, Norman his Mason, Ayres his Matlock +and his Shelley; yet Art the while was no sufferer. The +busybody who officiously employs himself in creating misunderstandings +between artists, may be compared to a turn-stile, +which stands in every man’s way, yet hinders nobody; +and he is the slanderer who gives ear to the slander.”<a name="FnAnchor_109" id="FnAnchor_109" href="#Footnote_109"><span class="sp">109</span></a></p> + +<p>Among these knights of the “Plume volante,” whose +chivalric exploits astounded the beholders, must be distinguished +Peter Bales in his joust with David Johnson. In +this tilting-match the guerdon of caligraphy was won by the +greatest of caligraphers; its <i>arms</i> were assumed by the +victor, <i>azure, a pen or</i>; while the “golden pen,” carried +away in triumph, was painted with a hand over the door of +the caligrapher. The history of this renowned encounter +was only traditionally known, till with my own eyes I pondered +on this whole trial of skill in the precious manuscript +of the champion himself; who, like Cæsar, not only knew +how to win victories, but also to record them. Peter Bales +was a hero of such transcendent eminence, that his name has +entered into our history. Holinshed chronicles one of his +curiosities of microscopic writing at a time when the taste +prevailed for admiring writing which no eye could read! In +the compass of a silver penny this caligrapher put more things +than would fill several of these pages. He presented Queen +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page174" id="page174"></a>174</span> +Elizabeth with the manuscript set in a ring of gold covered +with a crystal; he had also contrived a magnifying glass of +such power, that, to her delight and wonder, her majesty read +the whole volume, which she held on her thumb-nail, and +“commended the same to the lords of the council and the +ambassadors;” and frequently, as Peter often heard, did her +majesty vouchsafe to wear this caligraphic ring.<a name="FnAnchor_110" id="FnAnchor_110" href="#Footnote_110"><span class="sp">110</span></a></p> + +<p>“Some will think I labour on a cobweb”—modestly exclaimed +Bales in his narrative, and his present historian much +fears for himself! The reader’s gratitude will not be proportioned +to my pains, in condensing such copious pages into +the size of a “silver penny,” but without its worth!</p> + +<p>For a whole year had David Johnson affixed a challenge +“To any one who should take exceptions to this my writing +and teaching.” He was a young friend of Bales, daring and +longing for an encounter; yet Bales was magnanimously +silent, till he discovered that he was “doing much less in +writing and teaching” since this public challenge was proclaimed! +He then set up his counter-challenge, and in one +hour afterwards Johnson arrogantly accepted it, “in a most +despiteful and disgraceful manner.” Bales’s challenge was +delivered “in good terms.” “To all Englishmen and +strangers.” It was to write for a gold pen of twenty +pounds value in all kinds of hands, “best, straightest, and +fastest,” and most kind of ways; “a full, a mean, a small, +with line, and without line; in a slow set hand, a mean +facile hand, and a fast running hand;” and further, “to write +truest and speediest, most secretary and clerk-like, from a +man’s mouth, reading or pronouncing, either English or Latin.”</p> + +<p>Young Johnson had the hardihood now of turning the +tables on his great antagonist, accusing the veteran Bales of +arrogance. Such an absolute challenge, says he, was never +witnessed by man, “without exception of any in the world!” +And a few days after meeting Bales, “of set purpose to +affront and disgrace him what he could, showed Bales a piece +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page175" id="page175"></a>175</span> +of writing of secretary’s hand, which he had very much +laboured in fine abortive parchment,”<a name="FnAnchor_111" id="FnAnchor_111" href="#Footnote_111"><span class="sp">111</span></a> uttering to the challenger +these words: “Mr. Bales, give me one shilling out +of your purse, and if within six months you better, or equal +this piece of writing, I will give you forty pounds for it.” +This legal deposit of the shilling was made, and the challenger, +or appellant, was thereby bound by law to the performance.</p> + +<p>The day before the trial a printed declaration was affixed +throughout the city, taunting Bales’s “proud poverty,” and +his pecuniary motives, as “a thing ungentle, base, and mercenary, +and not answerable to the dignity of the golden +pen!” Johnson declares he would maintain his challenge for +a thousand pounds more, but for the respondent’s inability to +perform a thousand groats. Bales retorts on the libel; declares +it as a sign of his rival’s weakness, “yet who so bold +as blind Bayard, that hath not a word of Latin to cast at a +dog, or say Bo! to a goose!”</p> + +<p>On Michaelmas day, 1595, the trial opened before five +judges: the appellant and the respondent appeared at the +appointed place, and an ancient gentleman was intrusted with +“the golden pen.” In the first trial, for the manner of teaching +scholars, after Johnson had taught his pupil a fortnight, he +would not bring him forward! This was awarded in favour +of Bales.</p> + +<p>The second, for secretary and clerk-like writing, dictating +to them both in English and in Latin, Bales performed best, +being first done; written straightest without line, with true +orthography: the challenger himself confessing that he wanted +the Latin tongue, and was no clerk!</p> + +<p>The third and last trial for fair writing in sundry kinds of +hands, the challenger prevailed for the beauty and most “authentic +proportion,” and for the superior variety of the Roman +hand. In the court hand the respondent exceeded the +appellant, and likewise in the set text; and in bastard secretary +was also somewhat perfecter.</p> + +<p>At length Bales, perhaps perceiving an equilibrium in the +judicial decision, to overwhelm his antagonist presented what +he distinguishes as his “masterpiece,” composed of secretary +and Roman hand four ways varied, and offering the defendant +to let pass all his previous advantages if he could better this +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page176" id="page176"></a>176</span> +specimen of caligraphy! The challenger was silent! At +this moment some of the judges perceiving that the decision +must go in favour of Bales, in consideration of the youth of +the challenger, lest he might be disgraced to the world, +requested the other judges not to pass judgment in public. +Bales assures us, that he in vain remonstrated; for by these +means the winning of the golden pen might not be so famously +spread as otherwise it would have been. To Bales the +prize was awarded. But our history has a more interesting +close; the subtle Machiavelism of the first challenger!</p> + +<p>When the great trial had closed, and Bales, carrying off the +golden pen, exultingly had it painted and set up for his sign, +the baffled challenger went about reporting that <i>he</i> had <i>won</i> +the golden pen, but that the defendant had obtained the same +by “plots and shifts, and other base and cunning practices.” +Bales vindicated his claim, and offered to show the world his +“masterpiece” which had acquired it. Johnson issued an +“Appeal to all Impartial Penmen,” which he spread in great +numbers through the city for ten days, a libel against the +judges and the victorious defendant! He declared that there +had been a subtle combination with one of the judges concerning +the place of trial; which he expected to have been “before +penmen,” but not before a multitude like a stage-play, and +shouts and tumults, with which the challenger had hitherto been +unacquainted. The judges were intended to be twelve; but of +the five, four were the challenger’s friends, honest gentlemen, +but unskilled in judging of most hands; and he offered again +forty pounds to be allowed in six months to equal Bales’s +masterpiece. And he closes his “appeal” by declaring that +Bales had lost in several parts of the trial, neither did the +judges deny that Bales possessed himself of the golden pen by +a trick! Before judgment was awarded, alleging the sickness of +his wife to be extreme, he desired she might have <i>a sight of the +golden pen to comfort her</i>! The ancient gentleman who was the +holder, taking the defendant’s word, allowed the golden pen +to be carried to the sick wife; and Bales immediately pawned +it, and afterwards, to make sure work, sold it at a great loss, +so that when the judges met for their definite sentence, nor +pen nor pennyworth was to be had! The judges being +ashamed of their own conduct, were compelled to give such a +verdict as suited the occasion.</p> + +<p>Bales rejoins: he publishes to the universe the day and the +hour when the judges brought the golden pen to his house, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page177" id="page177"></a>177</span> +and while he checks the insolence of this Bobadil, to show +himself no recreant, assumes the golden pen for his sign.</p> + +<p>Such is the shortest history I could contrive of this chivalry +of the pen; something mysteriously clouds over the fate of +the defendant; Bales’s history, like Cæsar’s, is but an <i>ex-parte</i> +evidence. Who can tell whether he has not slurred over his +defeats, and only dwelt on his victories?</p> + +<p>There is a strange phrase connected with the art of the +caligrapher, which I think may be found in most, if not in all +modern languages, <i>to write like an angel</i>! Ladies have +been frequently compared with angels; they are <i>beautiful</i> as +angels, and <i>sing</i> and <i>dance</i> like angels; but, however intelligible +these are, we do not so easily connect penmanship with +the other celestial accomplishments. This fanciful phrase, +however, has a very human origin. Among those learned +Greeks who emigrated to Italy, and afterwards into +France, in the reign of Francis I., was one Angelo <i>Vergecio</i>, +whose beautiful caligraphy excited the admiration of the +learned. The French monarch had a Greek fount cast, +modelled by his writing. The learned Henry Stephens, who, +like our Porson for correctness and delicacy, was one of the +most elegant writers of Greek, had learnt the practice from +our <i>Angelo</i>. His name became synonymous for beautiful +writing, and gave birth to the vulgar proverb or familiar +phrase <i>to write like an angel</i>!</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_109" id="Footnote_109" href="#FnAnchor_109"><span class="fn">109</span></a> I have not met with More’s book, and am obliged to transcribe this +from the Biog. Brit.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_110" id="Footnote_110" href="#FnAnchor_110"><span class="fn">110</span></a> Howes, in his Chronicle under date 1576, has thus narrated the +story:—“A strange piece of work, and almost incredible, was brought to +pass by an Englishman from within the city of London, and a clerk of the +Chancery, named Peter Bales, who by his industry and practice of his pen +contrived and writ, within the compass of a penny, the Lord’s Prayer, the +Creed, the Ten Commandments, a prayer to God, a prayer for the queen, +his posy, his name, the day of the month, the year of our Lord, and the +reign of the queen: and at Hampton Court he presented the same to the +queen’s majesty.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_111" id="Footnote_111" href="#FnAnchor_111"><span class="fn">111</span></a> This was written in the reign of Elizabeth. Holyoke notices “virgin-perchment +made of an <i>abortive skin; membrana virgo</i>.” Peacham, on +“Drawing,” calls parchment simply <i>an abortive</i>.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>THE ITALIAN HISTORIANS.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">It</span> is remarkable that the country which has long lost its +political independence may be considered as the true parent +of modern history. The greater part of their historians have +abstained from the applause of their contemporaries, while +they have not the less elaborately composed their posthumous +folios, consecrated solely to truth and posterity! The true +principles of national glory are opened by the grandeur of the +minds of these assertors of political freedom. It was their indignant +spirit, seeking to console its injuries by confiding them +to their secret manuscripts, which raised up this singular phenomenon +in the literary world.</p> + +<p>Of the various causes which produced such a lofty race of +patriots, one is prominent. The proud recollections of their +Roman fathers often troubled the dreams of the sons. The +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page178" id="page178"></a>178</span> +petty rival republics, and the petty despotic principalities, +which had started up from some great families, who at first +came forward as the protectors of the people from their exterior +enemies or their interior factions, at length settled into +a corruption of power; a power which had been conferred on +them to preserve liberty itself! These factions often shook, +by their jealousies, their fears, and their hatreds, that divided +land, which groaned whenever they witnessed the “Ultramontanes” +descending from their Alps and their Apennines. +Petrarch, in a noble invective, warmed by Livy and ancient +Rome, impatiently beheld the French and the Germans +passing the mounts. “Enemies,” he cries, “so often conquered +prepare to strike with swords which formerly served +us to raise our trophies: shall the mistress of the world bear +chains forged by hands which she has so often bound to their +backs?” Machiavel, in his “Exhortations to Free Italy from +the Barbarians,” rouses his country against their changeable +masters, the Germans, the French, and the Spaniards; closing +with the verse of Petrarch, that short shall be the battle for +which virtue arms to show the world—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + + <p class="i5">che l’ antico valore</p> +<p>Ne gl’ Italici cuor non è ancor morto.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Nor has this sublime patriotism declined even in more +recent times; I cannot resist from preserving in this place a +sonnet by Filicaja, which I could never read without participating +in the agitation of the writer for the ancient glory of +his degenerated country! The energetic personification of +the close perhaps surpasses even his more celebrated sonnet, +preserved in Lord Byron’s notes to the fourth canto of +“Childe Harold.”</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Dov’ è <span class="sc">Italia</span>, il tuo braccio? e a che ti servi</p> + <p class="i1">Tu dell’ altrui? non è s’ io scorgo il vero,</p> + <p class="i1">Di chi t’ offende il defensor men fero:</p> + <p class="i1">Ambe nemici sono, ambo fur servi.</p> +<p>Così dunque l’ onor, così conservi</p> + <p class="i1">Gli avanzi tu del glorioso Impero?</p> + <p class="i1">Cosi al valor, cosi al valor primiero</p> + <p class="i1">Che a te fede giurò, la fede osservi?</p> +<p>Or va; repudia il valor prisco, e sposa</p> + <p class="i1">L’ ozio, e fra il sangue, i gemiti, e le strida</p> + <p class="i1">Nel periglio maggior dormi e riposa!</p> +<p>Dormi, Adultera vil! fin che omicida</p> + <p class="i1">Spada ultrice ti svegli, e sonnacchiosa,</p> + <p class="i1">E nuda in braccio al tuo fedel t’uccida!</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page179" id="page179"></a>179</span></p> + +<p class="s">Oh, Italy! where is thine arm? What purpose serves</p> +<p>So to be helped by others? Deem I right,</p> +<p>Among offenders thy defender stands?</p> +<p>Both <i>are</i> thy enemies—both <i>were</i> thy servants!</p> +<p>Thus dost thou honour—thus dost thou preserve</p> +<p>The mighty boundaries of the glorious empire?</p> +<p>And thus to Valour, to thy pristine Valour</p> +<p>That swore its faith to thee, thy faith thou keep’st?</p> +<p>Go! and divorce thyself from thy old Valiance,</p> +<p>And marry Idleness: and midst the blood,</p> +<p>The heavy groans and cries of agony,</p> +<p>In thy last danger sleep, and seek repose!</p> +<p>Sleep, vile Adulteress! the homicidal sword</p> +<p>Vengeful shall waken thee! and lull’d to slumber,</p> +<p>While naked in thy minion’s arms, shall strike!</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Among the domestic contests of Italy the true principles +of political freedom were developed; and in that country we +may find the origin of that <span class="sc">philosophical history</span> which +includes so many important views and so many new results +unknown to the ancients.</p> + +<p>Machiavel seems to have been the first writer who discovered +the secret of what may be called <i>comparative history</i>. +He it was who first sought in ancient history for the materials +which were to illustrate the events of his own times, by fixing +on analogous facts, similar personages, and parallel periods. +This was enlarging the field of history, and opening a new +combination for philosophical speculation. His profound +genius advanced still further; he not only explained modern +by ancient history, but he deduced those results or principles +founded on this new sort of evidence which guided him in +forming his opinions. History had hitherto been, if we except +Tacitus, but a story well told; and by writers of limited +capacity, the detail and number of facts had too often been +considered as the only valuable portion of history. An erudition +of facts is not the philosophy of history; an historian +unskilful in the art of applying his facts amasses impure +ore, which he cannot strike into coin. The chancellor +D’Aguesseau, in his instructions to his son on the study of +history, has admirably touched on this distinction. “Minds +which are purely historical mistake a fact for an argument; +they are so accustomed to satisfy themselves by repeating a +great number of facts and enriching their memory, that they +become incapable of reasoning on principles. It often happens +that the result of their knowledge breeds confusion and +universal indecision; for their facts, often contradictory, only +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page180" id="page180"></a>180</span> +raise up doubts. The superfluous and the frivolous occupy +the place of what is essential and solid, or at least so overload +and darken it that we must sail with them in a sea of trifles +to get to firm land. Those who only value the philosophical +part of history fall into an opposite extreme; they judge of +what has been done by that which should be done; while the +others always decide on what should be done by that which +has been: the first are the dupes of their reasoning, the +second of the facts which they mistake for reasoning. We +should not separate two things which ought always to go +in concert, and mutually lend an aid, <i>reason and example</i>! +Avoid equally the contempt of some philosophers for the +science of facts, and the distaste or the incapacity which +those who confine themselves to facts often contract for whatever +depends on pure reasoning. True and solid philosophy +should direct us in the study of history, and the study of +history should give perfection to philosophy.” Such was the +enlightened opinion, as far back as at the beginning of the +seventeenth century, of the studious chancellor of France, +before the more recent designation of <i>Philosophical History</i> +was so generally received, and so familiar on our title-pages.</p> + +<p>From the moment that the Florentine secretary conceived +the idea that the history of the Roman people, opening such +varied spectacles of human nature, served as a point of comparison +to which he might perpetually recur to try the +analogous facts of other nations and the events passing under +his own eye, a new light broke out and ran through the vast +extents of history. The maturity of experience seemed to +have been obtained by the historian in his solitary meditation. +Livy in the grandeur of Rome, and Tacitus in its fated +decline, exhibited for Machiavel a moving picture of his own +republics—the march of destiny in all human governments! +The text of Livy and Tacitus revealed to him many an +imperfect secret—the fuller truth he drew from the depth +of his own observations on his own times. In Machiavel’s +“Discourses on Livy” we may discover the foundations of +our <i>Philosophical History</i>.</p> + +<p>The example of Machiavel, like that of all creative genius, +influenced the character of his age, and his history of Florence +produced an emulative spirit among a new dynasty of historians.</p> + +<p>The Italian historians have proved themselves to be an +extraordinary race, for they devoted their days to the composition +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page181" id="page181"></a>181</span> +of historical works which they were certain could +not see the light during their lives! They nobly determined +that their works should be posthumous, rather than be compelled +to mutilate them for the press. These historians were +rather the saints than the martyrs of history; they did not +always personally suffer for truth, but during their protracted +labour they sustained their spirit by anticipating their glorified +after-state.</p> + +<p>Among these Italian historians must be placed the illustrious +Guicciardini, the friend of Machiavel. No perfect +edition of this historian existed till recent times. The history +itself was posthumous; nor did his nephew venture to +publish it till twenty years after the historian’s death. He +only gave the first sixteen books, and these castrated. The +obnoxious passages consisted of some statements relating to +the papal court, then so important in the affairs of Europe; +some account of the origin and progress of the papal power; +some eloquent pictures of the abuses and disorders of that +corrupt court; and some free caricatures on the government +of Florence. The precious fragments were fortunately preserved +in manuscript, and the Protestants procured transcripts +which they published separately, but which were long very +rare.<a name="FnAnchor_112" id="FnAnchor_112" href="#Footnote_112"><span class="sp">112</span></a> All the Italian editions continued to be reprinted in +the same truncated condition, and appear only to have been +reinstated in the immortal history so late as in 1775! Thus, +it required two centuries before an editor could venture to +give the world the pure and complete text of the manuscript +of the lieutenant-general of the papal army, who had been so +close and so indignant an observer of the Roman cabinet.</p> + +<p>Adriani, whom his son entitles <i>gentiluomo Fiorentino</i>, the +writer of the pleasing dissertation “on the Ancient Painters +noticed by Pliny,” prefixed to his friend Vasari’s biographies, +wrote as a continuation of Guicciardini, a history of his own +times in twenty-two books, of which Denina gives the highest +character for its moderate spirit, and from which De Thou +has largely drawn, and commends for its authenticity. Our +author, however, did not venture to publish his history during +his lifetime: it was after his death that his son became the +editor.</p> + +<p>Nardi, of a noble family and high in office, famed for a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page182" id="page182"></a>182</span> +translation of Livy which rivals its original in the pleasure it +affords, in his retirement from public affairs wrote a history +of Florence, which closes with the loss of the liberty of his +country in 1531. It was not published till fifty years after +his death; even then the editors suppressed many passages +which are found in manuscript in the libraries of Florence +and Venice, with other historical documents of this noble and +patriotic historian.</p> + +<p>About the same time the senator Philip Nerli was writing +his “<i>Commentarj de’ fatti civili</i>,” which had occurred in +Florence. He gave them with his dying hand to his nephew, +who presented the MSS. to the Grand Duke; yet, although +this work is rather an apology than a crimination of the +Medici family for their ambitious views and their overgrown +power, probably some state-reason interfered to prevent the +publication, which did not take place till 150 years after the +death of the historian!</p> + +<p>Bernardo Segni composed a history of Florence still more +valuable, which shared the same fate as that of Nerli. It +was only after his death that his relatives accidentally discovered +this history of Florence, which the author had carefully +concealed during his lifetime. He had abstained from +communicating to any one the existence of such a work while +he lived, that he might not be induced to check the freedom +of his pen, nor compromise the cause and the interests of +truth. His heirs presented it to one of the Medici family, +who threw it aside. Another copy had been more carefully +preserved, from which it was printed in 1713, about 150 +years after it had been written. It appears to have excited +great curiosity, for Lenglet du Fresnoy observes that the +scarcity of this history is owing to the circumstance “of the +Grand Duke having bought up the copies.” Du Fresnoy, +indeed, has noticed more than once this sort of address of the +Grand Duke; for he observes on the Florentine history of +Bruto that the work was not common, the Grand Duke +having bought up the copies to suppress them. The author +was even obliged to fly from Italy for having delivered his +opinions too freely on the house of the Medici. This honest +historian thus expresses himself at the close of his work:—“My +design has but one end—that our posterity may learn +by these notices the root and the causes of so many troubles +which we have suffered, while they expose the malignity of +those men who have raised them up or prolonged them, as +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page183" id="page183"></a>183</span> +well as the goodness of those who did all which they could +to turn them away.”</p> + +<p>It was the same motive, the fear of offending the great +personages or their families, of whom these historians had so +freely written, which deterred Benedetto Varchi from publishing +his well-known “Storie Fiorentine,” which was not +given to the world till 1721, a period which appears to have +roused the slumbers of the literary men of Italy to recur to +their native historians. Varchi, who wrote with so much +zeal the history of his fatherland, is noticed by Nardi as one +who never took an active part in the events he records; +never having combined with any party, and living merely as +a spectator. This historian closes the narrative of a horrid +crime of Peter Lewis Farnese with this admirable reflection: +“I know well this story, with many others which I have +freely exposed, may hereafter prevent the reading of my history; +but also I know, that besides what Tacitus has said on +this subject, the great duty of an historian is not to be more +careful of the reputation of persons than is suitable with +truth, which is to be preferred to all things, however detrimental +it may be to the writer.”<a name="FnAnchor_113" id="FnAnchor_113" href="#Footnote_113"><span class="sp">113</span></a></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page184" id="page184"></a>184</span></p> + +<p>Such was that free manner of thinking and of writing +which prevailed in these Italian historians, who, often living +in the midst of the ruins of popular freedom, poured forth +their injured feelings in their secret pages; without the hope, +and perhaps without the wish, of seeing them published in +their lifetime: a glorious example of self-denial and lofty +patriotism!</p> + +<p>Had it been inquired of these writers why they did not +publish their histories, they might have answered, in nearly +the words of an ancient sage, “Because I am not permitted +to write as I would; and I would not write as I am permitted.” +We cannot imagine that these great men were in +the least insensible to the applause they denied themselves; +they were not of tempers to be turned aside; and it was the +highest motive which can inspire an historian, a stern devotion +to truth, which reduced them to silence, but not to +inactivity! These Florentine and Venetian historians, ardent +with truth, and profound in political sagacity, were writing +these legacies of history solely for their countrymen, hopeless +of their gratitude! If a Frenchman<a name="FnAnchor_114" id="FnAnchor_114" href="#Footnote_114"><span class="sp">114</span></a> wrote the English history, +that labour was the aliment of his own glory; if Hume +and Robertson devoted their pens to history, the motive of +the task was less glorious than their work; but here we discover +a race of historians, whose patriotism alone instigated +their secret labour, and who substituted for fame and fortune +that mightier spirit, which, amidst their conflicting passions, +has developed the truest principles, and even the errors, of +Political Freedom!</p> + +<p>None of these historians, we have seen, published their +works in their lifetime. I have called them the saints of +history, rather than the martyrs. One, however, had the +intrepidity to risk this awful responsibility, and he stands +forth among the most illustrious and ill-fated examples of +<span class="sc">historical martyrdom</span>!</p> + +<p>This great historian is Giannone, whose civil history of the +kingdom of Naples is remarkable for its profound inquiries +concerning the civil and ecclesiastical constitution, the laws +and customs of that kingdom. With some interruptions +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page185" id="page185"></a>185</span> +from his professional avocations at the bar, twenty years +were consumed in writing this history. Researches on ecclesiastical +usurpations, and severe strictures on the clergy, are +the chief subjects of his bold and unreserved pen. These +passages, curious, grave, and indignant, were afterwards extracted +from the history by Vernet, and published in a small +volume, under the title of “Anecdotes Ecclésiastiques,” 1738. +When Giannone consulted with a friend on the propriety of +publishing his history, his critic, in admiring the work, predicted +the fate of the author. “You have,” said he, “placed +on your head a crown of thorns, and of very sharp ones.” +The historian set at nought his own personal repose, and in +1723 this elaborate history saw the light. From that moment +the historian never enjoyed a day of quiet! Rome +attempted at first to extinguish the author with his work; +all the books were seized on; and copies of the first edition +are of extreme rarity. To escape the fangs of inquisitorial +power, the historian of Naples flew from Naples on the publication +of his immortal work. The fugitive and excommunicated +author sought an asylum at Vienna, where, though +he found no friend in the emperor, Prince Eugene and other +nobles became his patrons. Forced to quit Vienna, he +retired to Venice, when a new persecution arose from the +jealousy of the state-inquisitors, who one night landed him on +the borders of the pope’s dominions. Escaping unexpectedly +with his life to Geneva, he was preparing a supplemental +volume to his celebrated history, when, enticed by a treacherous +friend to a catholic village, Giannone was arrested by an +order of the King of Sardinia; his manuscripts were sent +to Rome, and the historian imprisoned in a fort. It is curious +that the imprisoned Giannone wrote a vindication of the +rights of the King of Sardinia, against the claims of the court +of Rome. This powerful appeal to the feelings of this sovereign +was at first favourably received; but, under the secret +influence of Rome, the Sardinian monarch, on the extraordinary +plea that he kept Giannone as a prisoner of state that +he might preserve him from the papal power, ordered that +the vindicator of his rights should be more closely confined +than before; and, for this purpose, transferred his state-prisoner +to the citadel of Turin, where, after twelve years +of persecution and of agitation, our great historian closed +his life!</p> + +<p>Such was the fate of this historical martyr, whose work +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page186" id="page186"></a>186</span> +the catholic Haym describes as <i>opera scritta con molto fuoco +e troppa libertà</i>. He hints that this history is only paralleled +by De Thou’s great work. This Italian history will +ever be ranked among the most philosophical. But, profound +as was the masculine genius of Giannone, such was his +love of fame, that he wanted the intrepidity requisite to deny +himself the delight of giving his history to the world, though +some of his great predecessors had set him a noble and dignified +example.</p> + +<p>One more observation on these Italian historians. All of +them represent man in his darkest colours; their drama is +terrific; the actors are monsters of perfidy, of inhumanity, +and inventors of crimes which seem to want a name! They +were all “princes of darkness;” and the age seemed to afford +a triumph of Manicheism! The worst passions were called +into play by all parties. But if something is to be ascribed +to the manners of the times, much more may be traced to +that science of politics, which sought for mastery in an undefinable +struggle of ungovernable political power; in the +remorseless ambition of the despots, and the hatreds and +jealousies of the republics. These Italian historians have +formed a perpetual satire on the contemptible simulation and +dissimulation, and the inexpiable crimes of that system of +politics, which has derived a name from one of themselves—the +great, may we add, the calumniated, <span class="sc">Machiavel</span>?</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_112" id="Footnote_112" href="#FnAnchor_112"><span class="fn">112</span></a> They were printed at Basle in 1569—at London in 1595—in Amsterdam, +1663. How many attempts to echo the voice of suppressed truth—<i>Haym’s +Bib. Ital.</i> 1803.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_113" id="Footnote_113" href="#FnAnchor_113"><span class="fn">113</span></a> My friend, Mr. Merivale, whose critical research is only equalled by +the elegance of his taste, has supplied me with a note which proves but +too well that even writers who compose uninfluenced by party feelings, +may not, however, be sufficiently scrupulous in weighing the evidence of +the facts which they collect. Mr. Merivale observes, “The strange and +improbable narrative with which Varchi has the misfortune of closing his +history, should not have been even hinted at without adding, that it is +denounced by other writers as a most impudent forgery, invented years +after the occurrence is supposed to have happened, by the ‘Apostate’ +bishop Petrus Paulus Vergerius.” See its refutation in Amiani, “Hist. di +Fano,” ii. 149, et seq. 160.</p> + +<p>“Varchi’s character as an historian cannot but suffer greatly from his +having given it insertion on such authority. The responsibility of an +author for the truth of what he relates should render us very cautious of +giving credit to the writers of memoirs not intended to see the light till a +distant period. The credibility of Vergerius, as an acknowledged libeller +of Pope Paul III. and his family, appears still more conclusively from his +article in Bayle, note K.” It must be added, that the calumny of Vergerius +may be found in Wolfius’s Lect. Mem. ii. 691, in a tract <i>de Idolo +Lauretano</i>, published 1556. Varchi is more particular in his details of +this monstrous tale. Vergerius’s libels, universally read at the time +though they were collected afterwards, are now not to be met with, even +in public libraries. Whether there was any truth in the story of Peter +Lewis Farnese I know not; but crimes of as monstrous a dye occur in the +authentic Guicciardini. The story is not yet forgotten, since in the last +edition of Haym’s <i>Biblioteca Italiana</i>, the best edition is marked as that +which at p. 639 contains “<i>la sceleratezza di Pier Lewis Farnese</i>.” I +am of opinion that Varchi believed the story, by the solemnity of his +proposition. Whatever be its truth, the historian’s feeling was elevated +and intrepid.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_114" id="Footnote_114" href="#FnAnchor_114"><span class="fn">114</span></a> Rapin.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>OF PALACES BUILT BY MINISTERS.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Our</span> ministers and court favourites, as well as those on the +Continent, practised a very impolitical custom, and one likely +to be repeated, although it has never failed to cast a popular +odium on their names, exciting even the envy of their equals—in +the erection of palaces for themselves, which outvied +those of their sovereign; and which, to the eyes of the +populace, appeared as a perpetual and insolent exhibition of +what they deemed the ill-earned wages of peculation, oppression, +and court-favour. We discover the seduction of this +passion for ostentation, this haughty sense of their power, +and this self-idolatry, even among the most prudent and the +wisest of our ministers; and not one but lived to lament over +this vain act of imprudence. To these ministers the noble +simplicity of Pitt will ever form an admirable contrast; while +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page187" id="page187"></a>187</span> +his personal character, as a statesman, descends to posterity +unstained by calumny.</p> + +<p>The houses of Cardinal Wolsey appear to have exceeded +the palaces of the sovereign in magnificence; and potent as +he was in all the pride of pomp, the “great cardinal” found +rabid envy pursuing him so close at his heels, that he relinquished +one palace after the other, and gave up as gifts to +the monarch what, in all his overgrown greatness, he trembled +to retain for himself. The state satire of that day was +often pointed at this very circumstance, as appears in Skelton’s +“Why come ye not to Court?” and Roy’s “Rede me, +and be not wrothe.”<a name="FnAnchor_115" id="FnAnchor_115" href="#Footnote_115"><span class="sp">115</span></a> Skelton’s railing rhymes leave their +bitter teeth in his purple pride; and the style of both these +satirists, if we use our own orthography, shows how little +the language of the common people has varied during three +centuries.</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Set up a wretch on high</p> +<p>In a throne triumphantly;</p> +<p>Make him a great state</p> +<p>And he will play check-mate</p> +<p>With royal majesty——</p> +<p>The King’s Court</p> +<p>Should have the excellence,</p> +<p>But Hampton Court</p> +<p>Hath the pre-eminence;</p> +<p>And Yorke Place<a name="FnAnchor_116" id="FnAnchor_116" href="#Footnote_116"><span class="sp">116</span></a></p> +<p>With my Lord’s grace,</p> +<p>To whose magnificence</p> +<p>Is all the confluence,</p> +<p>Suits, and supplications;</p> +<p>Embassies of all nations.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Roy, in contemplating the palace, is maliciously reminded +of the butcher’s lad, and only gives plain sense in plain +words.</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Hath the Cardinal any gay mansion?</p> +<p>Great palaces without comparison,</p> + <p class="i1">Most glorious of outward sight,</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page188" id="page188"></a>188</span></p> +<p>And within decked point-device,<a name="FnAnchor_117" id="FnAnchor_117" href="#Footnote_117"><span class="sp">117</span></a></p> +<p>More like unto a paradise</p> + <p class="i1">Than an earthly habitation.</p> +<p>He cometh then of some noble stock?</p> +<p>His father could match a bullock,</p> + <p class="i1">A butcher by his occupation.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Whatever we may now think of the structure, and the low +apartments of Wolsey’s <span class="sc">palace</span>, it is described not only in +his own times, but much later, as of unparalleled magnificence; +and indeed Cavendish’s narrative of the Cardinal’s +entertainment of the French ambassadors gives an idea of +the ministerial prelate’s imperial establishment very puzzling +to the comprehension of a modern inspector. Six hundred +persons, I think, were banqueted and slept in an abode which +appears to us so mean, but which Stowe calls “so stately a +palace.” To avoid the odium of living in this splendid edifice, +Wolsey presented it to the king, who, in recompense, suffered +the Cardinal occasionally to inhabit this wonder of +England, in the character of keeper of the king’s palace;<a name="FnAnchor_118" id="FnAnchor_118" href="#Footnote_118"><span class="sp">118</span></a> +so that Wolsey only dared to live in his own palace by a +subterfuge! This perhaps was a tribute which ministerial +haughtiness paid to popular feeling, or to the jealousy of a +royal master.</p> + +<p>I have elsewhere shown the extraordinary elegance and +prodigality of expenditure of Buckingham’s residences; they +were such as to have extorted the wonder even of Bassompierre, +and unquestionably excited the indignation of those +who lived in a poor court, while our gay and thoughtless +minister alone could indulge in the wanton profusion.</p> + +<p>But Wolsey and Buckingham were ambitious and adventurous; +they rose and shone the comets of the political horizon +of Europe. The Roman tiara still haunted the imagination +of the Cardinal: and the egotistic pride of having out-rivalled +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page189" id="page189"></a>189</span> +Richelieu and Olivarez, the nominal ministers but the real +sovereigns of Europe, kindled the buoyant spirits of the gay, +the gallant, and the splendid Villiers. But what “folly of +the wise” must account for the conduct of the profound Clarendon, +and the sensible Sir Robert Walpole, who, like the +other two ministers, equally became the victims of this imprudent +passion for the ostentatious pomp of a palace. This +magnificence looked like the vaunt of insolence in the eyes +of the people, and covered the ministers with a popular +odium.</p> + +<p>Clarendon House is now only to be viewed in a print; but +its story remains to be told. It was built on the site of +Grafton-street; and when afterwards purchased by Monk, +the Duke of Albemarle, he left his title to that well-known +street. It was an edifice of considerable extent and grandeur. +Clarendon reproaches himself in his Life for “his weakness +and vanity” in the vast expense incurred in this building, +which he acknowledges had “more contributed to that gust +of envy that had so violently shaken him, than any misdemeanour +that he was thought to have been guilty of.” It ruined +his estate; but he had been encouraged to it by the royal +grant of the land, by that passion for building to which he +owns “he was naturally too much inclined,” and perhaps by +other circumstances, among which was the opportunity of +purchasing the stones which had been designed for the rebuilding +of St. Paul’s; but the envy it drew on him, and the +excess of the architect’s proposed expense, had made his life +“very uneasy, and near insupportable.” The truth is, that +when this palace was finished, it was imputed to him as a +state-crime; all the evils in the nation, which were then +numerous, pestilence, conflagration, war, and defeats, were +discovered to be in some way connected with Clarendon +House, or, as it was popularly called, either Dunkirk House, +or Tangier Hall, from a notion that it had been erected with +the golden bribery which the chancellor had received for the +sale of Dunkirk and Tangiers.<a name="FnAnchor_119" id="FnAnchor_119" href="#Footnote_119"><span class="sp">119</span></a> He was reproached with +having profaned the sacred stones dedicated to the use of the +church. The great but unfortunate master of this palace, +who, from a private lawyer, had raised himself by alliance +even to royalty, the father-in-law of the Duke of York, it +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page190" id="page190"></a>190</span> +was maliciously suggested, had persuaded Charles the Second +to marry the Infanta of Portugal, knowing (but how Clarendon +obtained the knowledge his enemies have not revealed) that +the Portuguese princess was not likely to raise any obstacle +to the inheritance of his own daughter to the throne. At +the Restoration, among other enemies, Clarendon found that +the royalists were none of the least active; he was reproached +by them for preferring those who had been the cause of +their late troubles. The same reproach was incurred on the +restoration of the Bourbons. It is perhaps more political to +maintain active men, who have obtained power, than to reinstate +inferior talents, who at least have not their popularity. +This is one of the parallel cases which so frequently strike us +in exploring political history; and the <i>ultras</i> of Louis the +Eighteenth were only the <i>royalists</i> of Charles the Second. +There was a strong popular delusion carried on by the wits +and the <i>Misses</i> who formed the court of Charles the Second, +that the government was as much shared by the Hydes as +the Stuarts. We have in the state-poems, an unsparing lampoon, +entitled “Clarendon’s House-warming;” but a satire +yielding nothing to it in severity I have discovered in manuscript; +and it is also remarkable for turning chiefly on a pun +of the family name of the Earl of Clarendon. The witty and +malicious rhymer, after making Charles the Second demand +the Great Seal, and resolve to be his own chancellor, proceeds, +reflecting on the great political victim:</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Lo! his whole ambition already divides</p> +<p>The sceptre between the Stuarts and the Hydes.</p> +<p>Behold in the depth of our plague and wars,</p> +<p>He built him a palace out-braves the stars;</p> +<p>Which house (we Dunkirk, he Clarendon, names)</p> +<p>Looks down with shame upon St. James;</p> +<p>But ’tis not his golden globe that will save him,</p> +<p>Being less than the custom-house farmers gave him;</p> +<p>His chapel for consecration calls,</p> +<p>Whose sacrilege plundered the stones from Paul’s.</p> +<p>When Queen Dido landed she bought as much ground</p> +<p>As the <i>Hyde</i> of a lusty fat bull would surround;</p> +<p>But when the said <i>Hyde</i> was cut into thongs,</p> +<p>A city and kingdom to <i>Hyde</i> belongs;</p> +<p>So here in court, church, and country, far and wide,</p> +<p>Here’s nought to be seen but <i>Hyde!</i> <i>Hyde!</i> <i>Hyde!</i></p> +<p>Of old, and where law the kingdom divides,</p> +<p>’Twas our Hydes of land, ’tis now land of Hydes!</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Clarendon House was a palace, which had been raised with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page191" id="page191"></a>191</span> +at least as much fondness as pride; and Evelyn tells us that +the garden was planned by himself and his lordship; but the +cost, as usual, trebled the calculation, and the noble master +grieved in silence amidst this splendid pile of architecture.<a name="FnAnchor_120" id="FnAnchor_120" href="#Footnote_120"><span class="sp">120</span></a> +Even when in his exile the sale was proposed to pay his debts, +and secure some provision for his younger children, he +honestly tells us that “he remained so infatuated with the +delight he had enjoyed, that though he was deprived of it, +he hearkened very unwillingly to the advice.” In 1683 +Clarendon House met its fate, and was abandoned to the +brokers, who had purchased it for its materials. An affecting +circumstance is recorded by Evelyn on this occasion. In returning +to town with the Earl of Clarendon, the son of the +great earl, “in passing by the glorious palace his father built +but a few years before, which they were now demolishing, +being sold to certain undertakers,<a name="FnAnchor_121" id="FnAnchor_121" href="#Footnote_121"><span class="sp">121</span></a> I turned my head the +contrary way till the coach was gone past by, lest I might +minister occasion of speaking of it, which must needs have +grieved him, that in so short a time this pomp was fallen.” +A feeling of infinite delicacy, so perfectly characteristic of +Evelyn!</p> + +<p>And now to bring down this subject to times still nearer. +We find that Sir Robert Walpole had placed himself exactly +in the situation of the great minister we have noticed; we +have his confession to his brother Lord Walpole, and to his +friend Sir John Hynde Cotton. The historian of this minister +observes, that his magnificent building at Houghton drew on +him great obloquy. On seeing his brother’s house at Wolterton, +Sir Robert expressed his wishes that he had contented +himself with a similar structure. In the reign of Anne, Sir +Robert, sitting by Sir John Hynde Cotton, alluding to a +sumptuous house which was then building by Harley, observed, +that to construct a great house was a high act of +imprudence in any minister! It was a long time after, when +he had become prime minister, that he forgot the whole +result of the present article, and pulled down his family mansion +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page192" id="page192"></a>192</span> +at Houghton to build its magnificent edifice; it was +then Sir John Hynde Cotton reminded him of the reflection +which he had made some years ago: the reply of Sir Robert +is remarkable—“Your recollection is too late; I wish you +had reminded me of it before I began building, for then it +might have been of service to me!”</p> + +<p>The statesman and politician then are susceptible of all +the seduction of ostentation and the pride of pomp! Who +would have credited it? But bewildered with power, in the +magnificence and magnitude of the edifices which their +colossal greatness inhabits, they seem to contemplate on its +image!</p> + +<p>Sir Francis Walsingham died and left nothing to pay his +debts, as appears by a curious fact noticed in the anonymous +life of Sir Philip Sidney prefixed to the <i>Arcadia</i>, and evidently +written by one acquainted with the family history of his +friend and hero. The chivalric Sidney, though sought after +by court beauties, solicited the hand of the daughter of Walsingham, +although, as it appears, she could have had no +other portion than her own virtues and her father’s name. +“And herein,” observes our anonymous biographer, “he was +exemplary to all gentlemen not to carry their love in their +purses.” On this he notices this secret history of Walsingham:</p> + +<p>“This is that Sir Francis who impoverished himself to +enrich the state, and indeed made England his heir; and was +so far from building up of fortune by the benefit of his place, +that he demolished that fine estate left him by his ancestors +to purchase dear intelligence from all parts of Christendom. +He had a key to unlock the pope’s cabinet; and, as if master +of some invisible whispering-place, all the secrets of Christian +princes met at his closet. Wonder not then if he bequeathed +no great wealth to his daughter, being <i>privately interred</i> in +the choir of Paul’s, as <i>much indebted to his creditors</i> though +not so much as our nation is indebted to his memory.”</p> + +<p>Some curious inquirer may afford us a catalogue of great +ministers of state who have voluntarily declined the augmentation +of their private fortune, while they devoted their days +to the noble pursuits of patriotic glory! The labour of this +research will be great, and the volume small!</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_115" id="Footnote_115" href="#FnAnchor_115"><span class="fn">115</span></a> Skelton’s satire is accessible to the reader in the Rev. Alexander +Dyce’s edition of the poet’s works. Roy’s poem was printed abroad about +1525, and is of extreme rarity, as the cardinal spared no labour and expense +to purchase and destroy all the copies. A second edition was +printed at Wesel in 1546. Its author, who had been a friar, was ultimately +burned in Portugal for heresy.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_116" id="Footnote_116" href="#FnAnchor_116"><span class="fn">116</span></a> The palace of Wolsey, as Archbishop of York, which he had furnished +in the most sumptuous manner; after his disgrace it became a royal residence +under the name of Whitehall.—Note in Dyce’s ed. of Skelton’s +Works.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_117" id="Footnote_117" href="#FnAnchor_117"><span class="fn">117</span></a> <i>Point-device</i>, a term explained by Mr. Douce. He thinks that it is +borrowed from the labours of the needle, as we have <i>point-lace</i>, so <i>point-device</i>, +i. e., <i>point</i>, a stitch, and <i>devise</i>, devised or invented; applied to +describe anything uncommonly exact, or worked with the nicety and precision +of <i>stitches made or devised by the needle</i>.—<i>Illustrations of Shakspeare</i>, +i. 93. But Mr. Gifford has since observed that the origin of the +expression is, perhaps, yet to be sought for: he derives it from a mathematical +phrase, <i>à point devisé</i>, or <i>a given point</i>, and hence exact, correct, +&c.—<i>Ben Jonson</i>, vol. iv. 170. See, for various examples, Mr. Nares’s +Glossary, art. <i>Point-devise</i>.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_118" id="Footnote_118" href="#FnAnchor_118"><span class="fn">118</span></a> Lyson’s “Environs,” v. 58</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_119" id="Footnote_119" href="#FnAnchor_119"><span class="fn">119</span></a> Burnet says, “Others called it <i>Holland House</i>, because he was +believed to be no friend to the war: so it was given out that he had +money from the Dutch.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_120" id="Footnote_120" href="#FnAnchor_120"><span class="fn">120</span></a> At the gateway of the Three Kings Inn, near Dover-street, in Piccadilly, +are two pilasters with Corinthian capitals, which belonged to +Clarendon House, and are perhaps the only remains of that edifice.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_121" id="Footnote_121" href="#FnAnchor_121"><span class="fn">121</span></a> An old term for <i>contractors</i>. Evelyn tells us they were “certain rich +bankers and mechanics, who gave for it, and the ground about it, 35,000<i>l</i>.” +They built streets and houses on the site to their great profit, the ground +comprising twenty-four acres of land.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page193" id="page193"></a>193</span></p> + +<h3>“TAXATION NO TYRANNY!”</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Such</span> was the title of a famous political tract, which was +issued at a moment when a people, in a state of insurrection, +put forth a declaration that taxation was tyranny! It was +not against an insignificant tax they protested, but against +taxation itself! and in the temper of the moment this abstract +proposition appeared an insolent paradox. It was instantly +run down by that everlasting party which, so far +back as in the laws of our Henry the First, are designated +by the odd descriptive term of <i>acephali, a people without +heads!</i><a name="FnAnchor_122" id="FnAnchor_122" href="#Footnote_122"><span class="sp">122</span></a> the strange equality of levellers!</p> + +<p>These political monsters in all times have had an association +of ideas of <i>taxation</i> and <i>tyranny</i>, and with them one +name instantly suggests the other! This happened to one +Gigli of Sienna, who published the first part of a dictionary +of the Tuscan language,<a name="FnAnchor_123" id="FnAnchor_123" href="#Footnote_123"><span class="sp">123</span></a> of which only 312 leaves amused +the Florentines; these having had the honour of being consigned +to the flames by the hands of the hangman for certain +popular errors; such as, for instance, under the word <i>Gran +Duca</i> we find <i>Vedi Gabelli!</i> (see Taxes!) and the word +<i>Gabella</i> was explained by a reference to <i>Gran Duca</i>! +<i>Grand-duke</i> and <i>taxes</i> were synonymes, according to this +mordacious lexicographer! Such grievances, and the modes +of expressing them, are equally ancient. A Roman consul, +by levying a tax on <i>salt</i> during the Punic war, was nicknamed +<i>Salinator</i>, and condemned by “the majesty” of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page194" id="page194"></a>194</span> +people! He had formerly done his duty to the country, but +the <i>salter</i> was now his reward! He retired from Rome, let +his beard grow, and by his sordid dress and melancholy air +evinced his acute sensibility. The Romans at length wanted +the <i>salter</i> to command the army—as an injured man, he refused—but +he was told that he should bear the caprice of +the Roman people with the tenderness of a son for the +humours of a parent! He had lost his reputation by a productive +tax on salt, though this tax had provided an army +and obtained a victory!</p> + +<p>Certain it is that Gigli and his numerous adherents are +wrong: for were they freed from all restraints as much as if +they slept in forests and not in houses; were they inhabitants +of wilds and not of cities, so that every man should +be his own lawgiver, with a perpetual immunity from all +taxation, we could not necessarily infer their political happiness. +There are nations where taxation is hardly known, +for the people exist in such utter wretchedness, that they are +too poor to be taxed; of which the Chinese, among others, +exhibit remarkable instances. When Nero would have abolished +all taxes, in his excessive passion for popularity, the +senate thanked him for his good will to the people, but +assured him that this was a certain means not of repairing, +but of ruining the commonwealth. Bodin, in his curious +work “The Republic,” has noticed a class of politicians who +are in too great favour with the people. “Many seditious +citizens, and desirous of innovations, did of late years promise +immunity of taxes and subsidies to our people; but +neither could they do it, or if they could have done it, they +would not; or if it were done, should we have any commonweal, +being the ground and foundation of one.”<a name="FnAnchor_124" id="FnAnchor_124" href="#Footnote_124"><span class="sp">124</span></a></p> + +<p>The undisguised and naked term of “taxation” is, however, +so odious to the people, that it may be curious to observe +the arts practised by governments, and even by the +people themselves, to veil it under some mitigating term. In +the first breaking out of the American troubles, they probably +would have yielded to the mother-country <i>the right of</i> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page195" id="page195"></a>195</span> +<i>taxation</i>, modified by the term <i>regulation</i> (of their trade); +this I infer from a letter of Dr. Robertson, who observes, +that “the distinction between <i>taxation</i> and <i>regulation</i> is +mere folly!” Even despotic governments have condescended +to disguise the contributions forcibly levied, by some appellative +which should partly conceal its real nature. Terms +have often influenced circumstances, as names do things; and +conquest or oppression, which we may allow to be synonymes, +apes benevolence whenever it claims as a gift what it +exacts as a tribute.</p> + +<p>A sort of philosophical history of taxation appears in the +narrative of Wood, in his “Inquiry on Homer.” He tells us +that “the presents (a term of extensive signification in the +East) which are distributed annually by the bashaw of Damascus +to the several Arab princes through whose territory +he conducts the caravan of pilgrims to Mecca, are, at Constantinople, +called a free gift, and considered as an act of the +sultan’s generosity towards his indigent subjects; while, on +the other hand, the Arab Sheikhs deny even a right of passage +through the districts of their command, and exact those +sums as a tax due for the permission of going through their +country. In the frequent bloody contests which the adjustment +of these fees produces, the Turks complain of robbery, +and the Arabs of invasion.”<a name="FnAnchor_125" id="FnAnchor_125" href="#Footnote_125"><span class="sp">125</span></a></p> + +<p>Here we trace <i>taxation</i> through all its shifting forms, accommodating +itself to the feelings of the different people; +the same principle regulated the alternate terms proposed by +the buccaneers, when they <i>asked</i> what the weaker party was +sure to <i>give</i>, or when they <i>levied</i> what the others paid only +as a common <i>toll</i>.</p> + +<p>When Louis the Eleventh of France beheld his country exhausted +by the predatory wars of England, he bought a +peace of our Edward the Fourth by an annual sum of fifty +thousand crowns, to be paid at London, and likewise granted +<i>pensions</i> to the English ministers. Holinshed and all our +historians call this a yearly <i>tribute</i>; but Comines, the French +memoir-writer, with a national spirit, denies that these <i>gifts</i> +were either <i>pensions</i> or <i>tributes</i>. “Yet,” says Bodin, a +Frenchman also, but affecting a more philosophical indifference, +“it must be either the one or the other; though I +confess, that those who receive a pension to obtain peace, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page196" id="page196"></a>196</span> +commonly boast of it <i>as if it were a tribute</i>!”<a name="FnAnchor_126" id="FnAnchor_126" href="#Footnote_126"><span class="sp">126</span></a> Such are +the shades of our feelings in this history of taxation and tribute. +But there is another artifice of applying soft names to +hard things, by veiling a tyrannical act by a term which +presents no disagreeable idea to the imagination. When it +was formerly thought desirable, in the relaxation of morals +which prevailed in Venice, to institute the office of <i>censor</i>, +three magistrates were elected bearing this title; but it +seemed so harsh and austere in that dissipated city, that +these reformers of manners were compelled to change their +title; when they were no longer called <i>censors</i>, but <i>I signori +sopra il bon vivere della città</i>, all agreed on the propriety of +the office under the softened term. Father Joseph, the +secret agent of Cardinal Richelieu, was the inventor of +<i>lettres de cachet</i>, disguising that instrument of despotism by +the amusing term of <i>a sealed letter</i>. Expatriation would +have been merciful compared with the result of that <i>billet-doux</i>, +a sealed letter from his majesty!</p> + +<p>Burke reflects with profound truth—“Abstract liberty, +like other mere abstractions, is not to be found. Liberty inheres +in some sensible object; and every nation has formed to +itself some favourite point, which, by way of eminence, becomes +the criterion of their happiness. It happened that the +great contests for freedom in this country were from the +earliest times chiefly upon the question of <i>taxing</i>. Most of +the contests in the ancient commonwealths turned primarily +on the right of election of magistrates, or on the balance +among the several orders of the state. The question of +<i>money</i> was not with them so immediate. But in England it +was otherwise. On this point of taxes the ablest pens and +most eloquent tongues have been exercised; the greatest +spirits have acted and suffered.”<a name="FnAnchor_127" id="FnAnchor_127" href="#Footnote_127"><span class="sp">127</span></a></p> + +<p>One party clamorously asserts that taxation is their grievance, +while another demonstrates that the annihilation of +taxes would be their ruin! The interests of a great nation, +among themselves, are often contrary to each other, and each +seems alternately to predominate and to decline. “The sting +of taxation,” observes Mr. Hallam, “is wastefulness; but it is +difficult to name a limit beyond which taxes will not be borne +without impatience when <i>faithfully applied</i>.” In plainer +words, this only signifies, we presume, that Mr. Hallam’s +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page197" id="page197"></a>197</span> +party would tax us without “wastefulness!” Ministerial or +opposition, whatever be the administration, it follows that +“taxation is no tyranny;” Dr. Johnson then was terribly +abused in his day for a <i>vox et præterea nihil</i>!</p> + +<p>Still shall the innocent word be hateful, and the people will +turn even on their best friend, who in administration inflicts +a new impost; as we have shown by the fate of the Roman +<i>Salinator</i>! Among ourselves, our government, in its constitution, +if not always in its practice, long had a consideration +towards the feelings of the people, and often contrived to hide +the nature of its exactions by a name of blandishment. An +enormous grievance was long the office of purveyance. A +purveyor was an officer who was to furnish every sort of provision +for the royal house, and sometimes for great lords, +during their progresses or journeys. His oppressive office, by +arbitrarily fixing the market prices, and compelling the +countrymen to bring their articles to market, would enter +into the history of the arts of grinding the labouring class of +society; a remnant of feudal tyranny! The very title of this +officer became odious; and by a statute of Edward III. the +hateful name of <i>purveyor</i> was ordered to be changed into +<i>acheteur</i> or buyer!<a name="FnAnchor_128" id="FnAnchor_128" href="#Footnote_128"><span class="sp">128</span></a> A change of name, it was imagined, +would conceal its nature! The term often devised, strangely +contrasted with the thing itself. Levies of money were long +raised under the pathetic appeal of <i>benevolences</i>. When +Edward IV. was passing over to France, he obtained, under +this gentle demand, money towards “the great journey,” and +afterwards having “rode about the more part of the lands, +and used the people in such fair manner, that they were +liberal in their gifts;” old Fabian adds, “the which way of +the levying of this money was after-named a benevolence.” +Edward IV. was courteous in this newly-invented style, and +was besides the handsomest tax-gatherer in his kingdom! +His royal presence was very dangerous to the purses of his +loyal subjects, particularly to those of the females. In his +progress, having kissed a widow for having contributed a +larger sum than was expected from her estate, she was so +overjoyed at the singular honour and delight, that she doubled +her <i>benevolence</i>, and a second kiss had ruined her! In the +succeeding reign of Richard III. the term had already lost +the freshness of its innocence. In the speech which the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page198" id="page198"></a>198</span> +Duke of Buckingham delivered from the hustings in Guildhall, +he explained the term to the satisfaction of his auditors, +who even then were as cross-humoured as the livery of this +day, in their notions of what now we gently call “supplies.” +“Under the plausible name of <i>benevolence</i>, as it was held in +the time of Edward IV., your goods were taken from you +much against your will, as if by that name was understood +that every man should pay, not what he pleased, but what +the king would have him;” or, as a marginal note in Buck’s +Life of Richard III. more pointedly has it, that “the name +of <i>benevolence</i> signified that every man should pay, not what +he of his own good will list, but what the king of his good +will list to take.”<a name="FnAnchor_129" id="FnAnchor_129" href="#Footnote_129"><span class="sp">129</span></a> Richard III., whose business, like that +of all usurpers, was to be popular, in a statute even condemns +this “benevolence” as “a new imposition,” and enacts that +“none shall be charged with it in future; many families +having been ruined under these pretended gifts.” His successor, +however, found means to levy “a benevolence;” but +when Henry VIII. demanded one, the citizens of London appealed +to the act of Richard III. Cardinal Wolsey insisted +that the law of a murderous usurper should not be enforced. +One of the common council courageously replied, that “King +Richard, conjointly with parliament, had enacted many good +statutes.” Even then the citizen seems to have comprehended +the spirit of our constitution—that taxes should not +be raised without the consent of parliament!</p> + +<p>Charles the First, amidst his urgent wants, at first had +hoped, by the pathetic appeal to <i>benevolences</i>, that he should +have touched the hearts of his unfriendly commoners; but the +term of <i>benevolence</i> proved unlucky. The resisters of <i>taxation</i> +took full advantage of a significant meaning, which had +long been lost in the custom: asserting by this very term +that all levies of money were not compulsory, but the +voluntary gifts of the people. In that political crisis, when +in the fulness of time all the national grievances which had +hitherto been kept down started up with one voice, the +courteous term strangely contrasted with the rough demand. +Lord Digby said “the granting of <i>subsidies</i>, under so preposterous +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page199" id="page199"></a>199</span> +a name as of a <i>benevolence</i>, was a <i>malevolence</i>.” And +Mr. Grimstone observed, that “they have granted a benevolence, +but the nature of the <i>thing</i> agrees not with the <i>name</i>.” +The nature indeed had so entirely changed from the name, +that when James I. had tried to warm the hearts of his +“benevolent” people, he got “little money, and lost a great +deal of love.” “Subsidies,” that is grants made by parliament, +observes Arthur Wilson, a dispassionate historian, “get +more of the people’s money, but exactions enslave the mind.”</p> + +<p>When <i>benevolences</i> had become a grievance, to diminish +the odium they invented more inviting phrases. The subject +was cautiously informed that the sums demanded were only +<i>loans</i>; or he was honoured by a letter under the <i>Privy Seal</i>; +a bond which the king engaged to repay at a definite period; +but privy seals at length got to be hawked about to persons +coming out of church. “Privy Seals,” says a manuscript +letter, “are flying thick and threefold in sight of all the +world, which might surely have been better performed in +delivering them to every man privately at home.” The +<i>general loan</i>, which in fact was a forced loan, was one of the +most crying grievances under Charles I. Ingenious in the +destruction of his own popularity, the king contrived a new +mode of “<i>secret instructions to commissioners</i>.”<a name="FnAnchor_130" id="FnAnchor_130" href="#Footnote_130"><span class="sp">130</span></a> They were +to find out persons who could bear the largest rates. How +the commissioners were to acquire this secret and inquisitorial +knowledge appears in the bungling contrivance. It is one of +their orders that after a number of inquiries have been put to +a person, concerning others who had spoken against loan-money, +and what arguments they had used, this person was +to be charged in his majesty’s name, and upon his allegiance, +not to disclose to any other the answer he had given. +A striking instance of that fatuity of the human mind, when +a weak government is trying to do what it knows not how to +perform: it was seeking to obtain a secret purpose by the +most open and general means: a self-destroying principle!</p> + +<p>Our ancestors were children in finance; their simplicity has +been too often described as tyranny! but from my soul do I +believe, on this obscure subject of taxation, that old Burleigh’s +advice to Elizabeth includes more than all the squabbling +pamphlets of our political economists,—“<span class="sc">Win hearts, and +you have their hands and purses!</span>”</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_122" id="Footnote_122" href="#FnAnchor_122"><span class="fn">122</span></a> Cowel’s “Interpreter,” art. <i>Acephali</i>. This by-name we unexpectedly +find in a grave antiquarian law-dictionary! probably derived from Pliny’s +description of a people whom some travellers had reported to have found +in this predicament, in their fright and haste in attempting to land on a +hostile shore among savages. To account for this fabulous people, it has +been conjectured they wore such high coverings, that their heads did not +appear above their shoulders, while their eyes seemed to be placed in their +breasts. How this name came to be introduced into the laws of Henry the +First remains to be told by some profound antiquary; but the allusion was +common in the middle ages. Cowel says, “Those are called <i>acephali</i> +who were the <i>levellers</i> of that age, and acknowledged <i>no head</i> or superior.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_123" id="Footnote_123" href="#FnAnchor_123"><span class="fn">123</span></a> <i>Vocabulario di Santa Caterina e della Lingua Sanese</i>, 1717. This +pungent lexicon was prohibited at Rome by desire of the court of Florence. +The history of this suppressed work may be found in <i>Il Giornale de’ +Letterati d’ Italia</i>, tomo xxix. 1410. In the last edition of Haym’s +“Biblioteca Italiana,” 1803, it is said to be reprinted at <i>Manilla, nell’ +Isole Fillippine</i>!—For the book-licensers it is a great way to go for it.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_124" id="Footnote_124" href="#FnAnchor_124"><span class="fn">124</span></a> Bodin’s “Six Books of a Commonwealth,” translated by Richard +Knolles, 1606. A work replete with the <i>practical</i> knowledge of politics, +and of which Mr. Dugald Stewart has delivered a high opinion. Yet this +great politician wrote a volume to anathematise those who doubted the +existence of sorcerers and witches, &c., whom he condemns to the flames! +See his “Demonomanie des Sorciers,” 1593.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_125" id="Footnote_125" href="#FnAnchor_125"><span class="fn">125</span></a> Wood’s “Inquiry on Homer,” p. 153.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_126" id="Footnote_126" href="#FnAnchor_126"><span class="fn">126</span></a> Bodin’s “Commonweal,” translated by R. Knolles, p. 148. 1606.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_127" id="Footnote_127" href="#FnAnchor_127"><span class="fn">127</span></a> Burke’s Works, vol. i. 288.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_128" id="Footnote_128" href="#FnAnchor_128"><span class="fn">128</span></a> The modern word <i>cheater</i> is traced by some authors to this term, +which soon became odious to the populace.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_129" id="Footnote_129" href="#FnAnchor_129"><span class="fn">129</span></a> Daines Barrington, in “Observations on the Statutes,” gives the marginal +<i>note</i> of Buck as the <i>words</i> of the duke; they certainly served his +purpose to amuse, better than the veracious ones; but we expect from a +grave antiquary inviolable authenticity. The duke is made by Barrington +a sort of wit, but the pithy quaintness is Buck’s.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_130" id="Footnote_130" href="#FnAnchor_130"><span class="fn">130</span></a> These “Private Instructions to the Commissioners for the General +Loan” may be found in Rushworth, i. 418.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page200" id="page200"></a>200</span></p> + +<h3>THE BOOK OF DEATH.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Montaigne</span> was fond of reading minute accounts of the +deaths of remarkable persons; and, in the simplicity of his heart, +old Montaigne wished to be learned enough to form a collection +of these deaths, to observe “their words, their actions, +and what sort of countenance they put upon it.” He seems +to have been a little over curious about deaths, in reference, +no doubt, to his own, in which he was certainly deceived; for +we are told that he did not die as he had promised himself,—expiring +in the adoration of the mass; or, as his preceptor +Buchanan would have called it, in “the act of rank +idolatry.”</p> + +<p>I have been told of a privately printed volume, under the +singular title of “The Book of Death,” where an <i>amateur</i> has +compiled the pious memorials of many of our eminent men +in their last moments: and it may form a companion-piece to +the little volume on “Les grands hommes qui sont morts en +plaisantant.” This work, I fear, must be monotonous; the +deaths of the righteous must resemble each other; the learned +and the eloquent can only receive in silence that hope which +awaits “the covenant of the grave.” But this volume will +not establish any decisive principle, since the just and the +religious have not always encountered death with indifference, +nor even in a fit composure of mind.</p> + +<p>The functions of the mind are connected with those of the +body. On a death-bed a fortnight’s disease may reduce the +firmest to a most wretched state; while, on the contrary, the +soul struggles, as it were in torture, in a robust frame. Nani, +the Venetian historian, has curiously described the death of +Innocent the Tenth, who was a character unblemished by +vices, and who died at an advanced age, with too robust a constitution. +<i>Dopo lunga e terribile agonia, con dolore e con +pena, seperandosi l’anima da quel corpo robusto, egli spiro ai +sette di Genuaro, nel ottantesimo primo de suoi anno.</i> “After +a long and terrible agony, with great bodily pain and difficulty, +his soul separated itself from that robust frame, and +expired in his eighty-first year.”</p> + +<p>Some have composed sermons on death, while they passed +many years of anxiety, approaching to madness, in contemplating +their own. The certainty of an immediate separation +from all our human sympathies may, even on a death-bed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page201" id="page201"></a>201</span> +suddenly disorder the imagination. The great physician of +our times told me of a general, who had often faced the cannon’s +mouth, dropping down in terror, when informed by him +that his disease was rapid and fatal. Some have died of the +strong imagination of death. There is a print of a knight +brought on the scaffold to suffer; he viewed the headsman; +he was blinded, and knelt down to receive the stroke. Having +passed through the whole ceremony of a criminal execution, +accompanied by all its disgrace, it was ordered that his life +should be spared. Instead of the stroke from the sword, +they poured cold water over his neck. After this operation the +knight remained motionless; they discovered that he had +expired in the very imagination of death! Such are among +the many causes which may affect the mind in the hour of +its last trial. The habitual associations of the natural +character are most likely to prevail, though not always. The +intrepid Marshal Biron disgraced his exit by womanish tears +and raging imbecility; the virtuous Erasmus, with miserable +groans, was heard crying out, <i>Domine! Domine! fac finem! +fac finem!</i> Bayle having prepared his proof for the printer, +pointed to where it lay, when dying. The last words which +Lord Chesterfield was heard to speak were, when the valet, +opening the curtains of the bed, announced Mr. Dayroles, +“Give Dayroles a chair!” “This good breeding,” observed +the late Dr. Warren, his physician, “only quits him with his +life.” The last words of Nelson were, “Tell Collingwood to +bring the fleet to an anchor.” The tranquil grandeur which +cast a new majesty over Charles the First on the scaffold, +appeared when he declared, “I fear not death! Death is not +terrible to me!” And the characteristic pleasantry of Sir +Thomas More exhilarated his last moments, when, observing +the weakness of the scaffold, he said, in mounting it, “I pray +you, see me up safe, and for my coming down, let me shift for +myself!” Sir Walter Rawleigh passed a similar jest when +going to the scaffold.<a name="FnAnchor_131" id="FnAnchor_131" href="#Footnote_131"><span class="sp">131</span></a></p> + +<p>My ingenious friend Dr. Sherwen has furnished me with +the following anecdotes of death:—In one of the bloody +battles fought by the Duke d’Enghien, two French noblemen +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page202" id="page202"></a>202</span> +were left wounded among the dead on the field of battle. +One complained loudly of his pains; the other, after long +silence, thus offered him consolation: “My friend, whoever +you are, remember that our God died on the cross, our king +on the scaffold; and if you have strength to look at him who +now speaks to you, you will see that both his legs are shot +away.”</p> + +<p>At the murder of the Duke d’Enghien, the royal victim +looking at the soldiers, who had pointed their fusees, said, +“Grenadiers! lower your arms, otherwise you will miss, or +only wound me!” To two of them who proposed to tie a +handkerchief over his eyes, he said, “A loyal soldier who has +been so often exposed to fire and sword can see the approach +of death with naked eyes and without fear.”</p> + +<p>After a similar caution on the part of Sir George Lisle, or +Sir Charles Lucas, when murdered in nearly the same manner +at Colchester, by the soldiers of Fairfax, the loyal hero, in +answer to their assertions and assurances that they would +take care not to miss him, nobly replied, “You have often +missed me when I have been nearer to you in the field of +battle.”</p> + +<p>When the governor of Cadiz, the Marquis de Solano, was +murdered by the enraged and mistaken citizens, to one of his +murderers, who had run a pike through his back, he calmly +turned round and said, “Coward, to strike there! Come +round—if you dare face—and destroy me!”</p> + +<p>Abernethy, in his Physiological Lectures, has ingeniously +observed that “Shakspeare has represented Mercutio continuing +to jest, though conscious that he was mortally +wounded; the expiring Hotspur thinking of nothing but +honour; and the dying Falstaff still cracking his jests upon +Bardolph’s nose. If such facts were duly attended to, they +would prompt us to make a more liberal allowance for each +other’s conduct, under certain circumstances, than we are +accustomed to do.” The truth seems to be, that whenever +the functions of the mind are not disturbed by “the nervous +functions of the digestive organs,” the personal character +predominates even in death, and its habitual associations exist +to its last moments. Many religious persons may have died +without showing in their last moments any of those exterior +acts, or employing those fervent expressions, which the collector +of “The Book of Death” would only deign to +chronicle; their hope is not gathered in their last hour.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page203" id="page203"></a>203</span> +Yet many have delighted to taste of death long before they +have died, and have placed before their eyes all the furniture +of mortality. The horrors of a charnel-house is the scene of +their pleasure. The “Midnight Meditations” of Quarles +preceded Young’s “Night Thoughts” by a century, and both +these poets loved preternatural terror.</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>If I must die, I’ll snatch at everything</p> + <p class="i1">That may but mind me of my latest breath;</p> +<p><span class="sc">Death’s-heads</span>, <span class="sc">Graves</span>, <span class="sc">Knells</span>, <span class="sc">Blacks</span>,<a name="FnAnchor_132" id="FnAnchor_132" href="#Footnote_132"><span class="sp">132</span></a> <span class="sc">tombs</span>, all these shall bring</p> + <p class="i1">Into my soul such <i>useful thoughts of death</i>,</p> + <p class="i2">That this sable king of fears</p> + <p class="i2">Shall not catch me unawares.—<span class="sc">Quarles.</span></p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>But it may be doubtful whether the <i>thoughts of death are +useful</i>, whenever they put a man out of the possession of his +faculties. Young pursued the scheme of Quarles: he raised +about him an artificial emotion of death: he darkened his +sepulchral study, placing a skull on his table by lamp-light; +as Dr. Donne had his portrait taken, first winding a sheet +over his head and closing his eyes; keeping this melancholy +picture by his bed-side as long as he lived, to remind him of +his mortality<a name="FnAnchor_133" id="FnAnchor_133" href="#Footnote_133"><span class="sp">133</span></a>. Young, even in his garden, had his conceits +of death: at the end of an avenue was viewed a seat of an +admirable chiaro-oscuro, which, when approached, presented +only a painted surface, with an inscription, alluding to the +deception of the things of this world. To be looking at +“the mirror which flatters not;” to discover ourselves only +as a skeleton with the horrid life of corruption about us, has +been among those penitential inventions, which have often +ended in shaking the innocent by the pangs which are only +natural to the damned.<a name="FnAnchor_134" id="FnAnchor_134" href="#Footnote_134"><span class="sp">134</span></a> Without adverting to those numerous +testimonies, the diaries of fanatics, I shall offer a picture +of an accomplished and innocent lady, in a curious and unaffected +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page204" id="page204"></a>204</span> +transcript she has left of a mind of great sensibility, +where the preternatural terror of death might perhaps have +hastened the premature one she suffered.</p> + +<p>From the “Reliquiæ Gethinianæ,”<a name="FnAnchor_135" id="FnAnchor_135" href="#Footnote_135"><span class="sp">135</span></a> I quote some of Lady +Gethin’s ideas on “Death.”—“The very thoughts of death +disturb one’s reason; and though a man may have many excellent +qualities, yet he may have the weakness of not +commanding his sentiments. Nothing is worse for one’s +health than to be in fear of death. There are some so wise +as neither to hate nor fear it; but for my part I have an +aversion for it; and with reason; for it is a rash inconsiderate +thing, that always comes before it is looked for; always +comes unseasonably, parts friends, ruins beauty, laughs at +youth, and draws a dark veil over all the pleasures of life.—This +dreadful evil is but the evil of a moment, and what we +cannot by any means avoid; and it is that which makes it so +terrible to me; for were it uncertain, hope might diminish +some part of the fear; but when I think I must die, and that +I may die every moment, and that too a thousand several +ways, I am in such a fright as you cannot imagine. I see +dangers where, perhaps, there never were any. I am persuaded +’tis happy to be somewhat dull of apprehension in this +case; and yet the best way to cure the pensiveness of the +thoughts of death is to think of it as little as possible.” She +proceeds by enumerating the terrors of the fearful, who +“cannot enjoy themselves in the pleasantest places, and +although they are neither on sea, river, or creek, but in good +health in their chamber, yet are they so well instructed with +the <i>fear of dying</i>, that they do not measure it only by the +<i>present</i> dangers that wait on us.—Then is it not best to +submit to God? But some people cannot do it as they +would; and though they are not destitute of reason, but perceive +they are to blame, yet at the same time that their +reason condemns them their imagination makes their hearts +feel what it pleases.”</p> + +<p>Such is the picture of an ingenious and a religious mind, +drawn by an amiable woman, who, it is evident, lived always +in the fear of death. The Gothic skeleton was ever haunting +her imagination. In Dr. Johnson the same horror was suggested +by the thoughts of death. When Boswell once in +conversation persecuted Johnson on this subject, whether we +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page205" id="page205"></a>205</span> +might not fortify our minds for the approach of death; he +answered in a passion, “No, sir! let it alone! It matters +not how a man dies, but how he lives! The art of dying is +not of importance, it lasts so short a time!” But when +Boswell persisted in the conversation, Johnson was thrown +into such a state of agitation, that he thundered out “Give +us no more of this!” and, further, sternly told the trembling +and too curious philosopher, “Don’t let us meet to-morrow!”</p> + +<p>It may be a question whether those who by their preparatory +conduct have appeared to show the greatest indifference +for death, have not rather betrayed the most curious art to +disguise its terrors. Some have invented a mode of escaping +from life in the midst of convivial enjoyment. A mortuary +preparation of this kind has been recorded of an amiable man, +Moncriff, the author of “Histoire des Chats” and “L’Art de +Plaire,” by his literary friend La Place, who was an actor in, +as well as the historian of, the singular narrative. One +morning La Place received a note from Moncriff, requesting +that “he would immediately select for him a dozen volumes +most likely to amuse, and of a nature to withdraw the reader +from being occupied by melancholy thoughts.” La Place +was startled at the unusual request, and flew to his old friend, +whom he found deeply engaged in being measured for a new +peruke, and a taffety robe-de-chambre, earnestly enjoining the +utmost expedition. “Shut the door!” said Moncriff, observing +the surprise of his friend. “And now that we are +alone, I confide my secret: on rising this morning, my valet +in dressing me showed me on this leg this dark spot—from +that moment I knew I was ‘condemned to death;’ but I +had presence of mind enough not to betray myself.” “Can +a head so well organised as yours imagine that such a trifle +is a sentence of death?”—“Don’t speak so loud, my friend! +or rather deign to listen a moment. At my age it is fatal! +The system from which I have derived the felicity of a long +life has been, that whenever any evil, moral or physical, +happens to us, if there is a remedy, all must be sacrificed to +deliver us from it—but in a contrary case, I do not choose to +wrestle with destiny and to begin complaints, endless as useless! +All that I request of you, my friend, is to assist me to +pass away the few days which remain for me, free from all +cares, of which otherwise they might be too susceptible. But +do not think,” he added with warmth, “that I mean to elude +the religious duties of a citizen, which so many of late affect +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page206" id="page206"></a>206</span> +to contemn. The good and virtuous curate of my parish is +coming here under the pretext of an annual contribution, and +I have even ordered my physician, on whose confidence I can +rely. Here is a list of ten or twelve persons, friends beloved! +who are mostly known to you. I shall write to them this +evening, to tell them of my condemnation; but if they wish +me to live, they will do me the favour to assemble here at +five in the evening, where they may be certain of finding all +those objects of amusement, which I shall study to discover +suitable to their tastes. And you, my old friend, with my +doctor, are two on whom I most depend.”</p> + +<p>La Place was strongly affected by this appeal—neither +Socrates, nor Cato, nor Seneca looked more serenely on the +approach of death.</p> + +<p>“Familiarise yourself early with death!” said the good +old man with a smile—“It is only dreadful for those who +dread it!”</p> + +<p>During ten days after this singular conversation, the whole +of Moncriff’s remaining life, his apartment was open to his +friends, of whom several were ladies; all kinds of games were +played till nine o’clock; and that the sorrows of the host +might not disturb his guests, he played the <i>chouette</i> at his +favourite game of <i>picquet</i>; a supper, seasoned by the wit of +the master, concluded at eleven. On the tenth night, in +taking leave of his friend, Moncriff whispered to him, “Adieu, +my friend! to-morrow morning I shall return your books!” +He died, as he foresaw, the following day.</p> + +<p>I have sometimes thought that we might form a history of +this <i>fear of death</i>, by tracing the first appearances of the +<span class="sc">skeleton</span> which haunts our funereal imagination. In the +modern history of mankind we might discover some very +strong contrasts in the notion of death entertained by men at +various epochs. The following article will supply a sketch of +this kind.</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_131" id="Footnote_131" href="#FnAnchor_131"><span class="fn">131</span></a> To these may be added Queen Anne Boleyn. Kingston, the Lieutenant +of the Tower, in a letter to Cromwell, records that she remarked of +her own execution, “‘I heard say the executioner was very good, and I +have a little neck;’ and she put her hands about it, laughing heartily. +Truly, this lady has much joy and pleasure in death.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_132" id="Footnote_132" href="#FnAnchor_132"><span class="fn">132</span></a> <i>Blacks</i> was the term for mourning in James the First and Charles the +First’s time.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_133" id="Footnote_133" href="#FnAnchor_133"><span class="fn">133</span></a> It was from this picture his stone effigy was constructed for his tomb +in old St. Paul’s. This mutilated figure, which withstood the great fire of +London, is still preserved in the crypt of the present cathedral.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_134" id="Footnote_134" href="#FnAnchor_134"><span class="fn">134</span></a> A still more curious <i>fashion</i> in this taste for mortuary memorials originated +at the court of Henry II. of France; whose mistress, Diana of +Poitiers, being a widow; mourning colours of black and white became the +fashion at court. Watches in the form of skulls were worn; jewels and +pendants in the shape of coffins; and rings decorated with skulls and +skeletons.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_135" id="Footnote_135" href="#FnAnchor_135"><span class="fn">135</span></a> My discovery of the nature of this rare volume, of what is original and +what collected, will be found in volume ii. of this work.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>HISTORY OF THE SKELETON OF DEATH.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><i>Euthanasia! Euthanasia!</i> an easy death! was the exclamation +of Augustus; it was what Antoninus Pius enjoyed; and +it is that for which every wise man will pray, said Lord +Orrery, when perhaps he was contemplating the close of +Swift’s life.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page207" id="page207"></a>207</span></p> + +<p>The ancients contemplated <span class="sc">death</span> without terror, and +met it with indifference. It was the only divinity to which +they never sacrificed, convinced that no human being could +turn aside its stroke. They raised altars to Fever, to Misfortune, +to all the evils of life; for these might change! But +though they did not court the presence of death in any shape, +they acknowledged its tranquillity; and in the beautiful fables +of their allegorical religion, Death was the daughter of Night, +and the sister of Sleep; and ever the friend of the unhappy! +To the eternal sleep of death they dedicated their sepulchral +monuments—<i>Æternali somno!</i><a name="FnAnchor_136" id="FnAnchor_136" href="#Footnote_136"><span class="sp">136</span></a> If the full light of revelation +had not yet broken on them, it can hardly be denied +that they had some glimpses and a dawn of the life to come, +from the many allegorical inventions which describe the +transmigration of the soul. A butterfly on the extremity of +an extinguished lamp, held up by the messenger of the gods +intently gazing above, implied a dedication of that soul; +Love, with a melancholy air, his legs crossed, leaning on an +inverted torch, the flame thus naturally extinguishing itself, +elegantly denoted the cessation of human life; a rose +sculptured on a sarcophagus, or the emblems of epicurean life +traced on it, in a skull wreathed by a chaplet of flowers, such +as they wore at their convivial meetings, a flask of wine, a +patera, and the small bones used as dice: all these symbols +were indirect allusions to death, veiling its painful recollections. +They did not pollute their imagination with the contents +of a charnel-house. The sarcophagi of the ancients +rather recall to us the remembrance of the activity of life; for +they are sculptured with battles or games, in basso relievo; a +sort of tender homage paid to the dead, observes Mad. de +Staël, with her peculiar refinement of thinking.</p> + +<p>It would seem that the Romans had even an aversion to +mention death in express terms, for they disguised its very +name by some periphrasis, such as <i>discessit e vita</i>, “he has +departed from life;” and they did not say that their friend +had <i>died</i>, but that he had <i>lived</i>; <i>vixit</i>! In the old Latin +chronicles, and even in the <i>Fœdera</i> and other documents of +the middle ages, we find the same delicacy about using the +fatal word <i>Death</i>, especially when applied to kings and great +people. “<i>Transire à Sæculo—Vitam suam mutare—Si quid +de eo humanitùs contigerit, &c.</i>” I am indebted to Mr. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page208" id="page208"></a>208</span> +Merivale for this remark. Even among a people less refined, +the obtrusive idea of death has been studiously avoided: we +are told that when the Emperor of Morocco inquires after +any one who has recently died, it is against etiquette to +mention the word “death;” the answer is “his destiny +is closed!” But this tenderness is only reserved for “the +elect” of the Mussulmen. A Jew’s death is at once +plainly expressed: “He is dead, sir! asking your pardon +for mentioning such a contemptible <span class="correction" title="added missing quotes">wretch!”</span> <i>i. e.</i> a Jew! A +Christian’s is described by ”The infidel is dead!” or, “The +cuckold is dead.”</p> + +<p>The ancient artists have so rarely attempted to personify +Death, that we have not discovered a single revolting image +of this nature in all the works of antiquity.<a name="FnAnchor_137" id="FnAnchor_137" href="#Footnote_137"><span class="sp">137</span></a>—To conceal its +deformity to the eye, as well as to elude its suggestion to the +mind, seems to have been an universal feeling, and it accorded +with a fundamental principle of ancient art; that of never +permitting violent passion to produce in its representation +distortion of form. This may be observed in the Laocoon, +where the mouth only opens sufficiently to indicate the suppressed +agony of superior humanity, without expressing the +loud cry of vulgar suffering. Pausanias considered as a personification +of death a female figure, whose teeth and nails, +long and crooked, were engraven on a coffin of cedar, which +enclosed the body of Cypselus; this female was unquestionably +only one of the <i>Parcæ</i>, or the Fates, “watchful to +cut the thread of life.” Hesiod describes Atropos indeed as +having sharp teeth and long nails, waiting to tear and +devour the dead; but this image was of a barbarous era. +Catullus ventured to personify the Sister Destinies as three +Crones; “but in general,” Winkelmann observes, “they are +portrayed as beautiful virgins, with winged heads, one of +whom is always in the attitude of writing on a scroll.” +Death was a nonentity to the ancient artist. Could he exhibit +what represents nothing? Could he animate into +action what lies in a state of eternal tranquillity? Elegant +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page209" id="page209"></a>209</span> +images of repose and tender sorrow were all he could invent +to indicate the state of death. Even the terms which different +nations have bestowed on a burial-place are not associated +with emotions of horror. The Greeks called a burying-ground +by the soothing term of <i>Cœmeterion</i>, or “the +sleeping-place;” the Jews, who had no horrors of the grave, +by <i>Beth-haim</i>, or, “the house of the living;” the Germans, +with religious simplicity, “God’s-field.” The Scriptures had +only noticed that celestial being “the Angel of Death,”—graceful, +solemn, and sacred!</p> + +<p>Whence, then, originated that stalking skeleton, suggesting +so many false and sepulchral ideas, and which for us has so +long served as the image of death?</p> + +<p>When the Christian religion spread over Europe, the world +changed! the certainty of a future state of existence, by the +artifices of wicked worldly men, terrified instead of consoling +human nature; and in the resurrection the ignorant multitude +seemed rather to have dreaded retribution, than to +have hoped for remuneration. The Founder of Christianity +everywhere breathes the blessedness of social feelings. It is +“Our Father!” whom he addresses. The horrors with +which Christianity was afterwards disguised arose in the +corruptions of Christianity among those insane ascetics who, +misinterpreting “the Word of Life,” trampled on nature; +and imagined that to secure an existence in the other world +it was necessary not to exist in the one in which God had +placed them. The dominion of mankind fell into the usurping +hands of those imperious monks whose artifices trafficed +with the terrors of ignorant and hypochondriac “Kaisers +and kings.” The scene was darkened by penances and by +pilgrimages, by midnight vigils, by miraculous shrines, and +bloody flagellations; spectres started up amidst their <i>ténèbres</i>; +millions of masses increased their supernatural influence. +Amidst this general gloom of Europe, their troubled +imaginations were frequently predicting the end of the +world. It was at this period that they first beheld the grave +yawn, and Death, in the Gothic form of a gaunt anatomy, +parading through the universe! The people were frightened +as they viewed, everywhere hung before their eyes, in +the twilight of their cathedrals, and their “pale cloisters,” +the most revolting emblems of death. They startled the +traveller on the bridge; they stared on the sinner in the +carvings of his table and chair; the spectre moved in the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page210" id="page210"></a>210</span> +hangings of the apartment; it stood in the niche, and was +the picture of their sitting-room; it was worn in their +rings, while the illuminator shaded the bony phantom in the +margins of their “Horæ,” their primers, and their breviaries. +Their barbarous taste perceived no absurdity in giving +action to a heap of dry bones, which could only keep together +in a state of immovability and repose; nor that it was +burlesquing the awful idea of the resurrection, by exhibiting +the incorruptible spirit under the unnatural and ludicrous +figure of mortality drawn out of the corruption of the +grave.</p> + +<p>An anecdote of these monkish times has been preserved by +old Gerard Leigh; and as old stories are best set off by old +words, Gerard speaketh! “The great Maximilian the emperor +came to a monastery in High Almaine (Germany), the +monks whereof had caused to be curiously painted the charnel +of a man, which they termed—Death! When that well-learned +emperor had beholden it awhile, he called unto him +his painter, commanding to blot the skeleton out, and to +paint therein the image of—a fool. Wherewith the abbot, +humbly beseeching him to the contrary, said ‘It was a good +remembrance!’—‘Nay,’ quoth the emperor, ‘as vermin that +annoyeth man’s body cometh unlooked for, so doth death, +which here is but a fained image, and life is a certain thing, +if we know to deserve it.’”<a name="FnAnchor_138" id="FnAnchor_138" href="#Footnote_138"><span class="sp">138</span></a> The original mind of Maximilian +the Great is characterized by this curious story of +converting our emblem of death into a parti-coloured fool; +and such satirical allusions to the folly of those who persisted +in their notion of the skeleton were not unusual with +the artists of those times; we find the figure of a fool sitting +with some drollery between the legs of one of these +skeletons.<a name="FnAnchor_139" id="FnAnchor_139" href="#Footnote_139"><span class="sp">139</span></a></p> + +<p>This story is associated with an important fact. After +they had successfully terrified the people with their charnel-house +figure, a reaction in the public feelings occurred, for the +skeleton was now employed as a medium to convey the most +facetious, satirical, and burlesque notions of human life. +Death, which had so long harassed their imaginations, suddenly +changed into a theme fertile in coarse humour. The +Italians were too long accustomed to the study of the beautiful +to allow their pencil to sport with deformity; but the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page211" id="page211"></a>211</span> +Gothic taste of the German artists, who could only copy +their own homely nature, delighted to give human passions +to the hideous physiognomy of a noseless skull; to put an +eye of mockery or malignity into its hollow socket, and to +stretch out the gaunt anatomy into the postures of a Hogarth; +and that the ludicrous might be carried to its extreme, +this imaginary being, taken from the bone-house, was +viewed in the action of <i>dancing</i>! This blending of the +grotesque with the most disgusting image of mortality, is +the more singular part of this history of the skeleton, and +indeed of human nature itself!</p> + +<p>“The Dance of Death,” erroneously considered as Holbein’s, +with other similar Dances, however differently +treated, have one common subject which was painted in the +arcades of burying-grounds, or on town-halls, and in market-places. +The subject is usually “The Skeleton” in the act of +leading all ranks and conditions to the grave, personated after +nature, and in the strict costume of the times. This invention +opened a new field for genius; and when we can for a +moment forget their luckless choice of their bony and bloodless +hero, who to amuse us by a variety of action becomes a +sort of horrid Harlequin in these pantomimical scenes, we +may be delighted by the numerous human characters, which +are so vividly presented to us. The origin of this extraordinary +invention is supposed to be a favourite pageant, or religious +mummery, invented by the clergy, who in these ages +of barbarous Christianity always found it necessary to +amuse, as well as to frighten the populace; a circumstance +well known to have occurred in so many other grotesque and +licentious festivals they allowed the people. The practice of +dancing in churches and church-yards was interdicted by +several councils; but it was found convenient in those rude +times. It seems probable that the clergy contrived the present +dance, as more decorous and not without moral and religious +emotions. This pageant was performed in churches, +in which the chief characters in society were supported in a +sort of masquerade, mixing together in a general dance, in +the course of which every one in his turn vanished from the +scene, to show how one after the other died off. The subject +was at once poetical and ethical; and the poets and +painters of Germany adopting the skeleton, sent forth this +chimerical Ulysses of another world to roam among the men +and manners of their own. A popular poem was composed, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page212" id="page212"></a>212</span> +said to be by one Macaber, which name seems to be a corruption +of St. Macaire; the old Gaulish version, reformed, is +still printed at Troyes, in France, with the ancient blocks of +woodcuts, under the title of “La Grande Danse Macabre des +Hommes et des Femmes.” Merian’s “Todten Tanz,” or the +“Dance of the Dead,” is a curious set of prints of a Dance +of Death from an ancient painting, I think not entirely defaced, +in a cemetery at Basle, in Switzerland. It was ordered +to be painted by a council held there during many years, to +commemorate the mortality occasioned by a plague in 1439. +The prevailing character of all these works is unquestionably +grotesque and ludicrous; not, however, that genius, however +barbarous, could refrain in this large subject of human life +from inventing scenes often imagined with great delicacy of +conception, and even great pathos. Such is the new-married +couple, whom Death is leading, beating a drum; and in the +rapture of the hour, the bride seems, with a melancholy +look, not insensible of his presence; or Death is seen issuing +from the cottage of the poor widow with her youngest +child, who waves his hand sorrowfully, while the mother and +the sister vainly answer; or the old man, to whom Death is +playing on a psaltery, seems anxious that his withered +fingers should once more touch the strings, while he is carried +off in calm tranquillity. The greater part of these subjects +of death are, however, ludicrous; and it may be a question, +whether the spectators of these Dances of Death did +not find their mirth more excited than their religious emotions. +Ignorant and terrified as the people were at the view +of the skeleton, even the grossest simplicity could not fail to +laugh at some of those domestic scenes and familiar persons +drawn from among themselves. The skeleton, skeleton as it +is, in the creation of genius, gesticulates and mimics, while +even its hideous skull is made to express every diversified +character, and the result is hard to describe; for we are at +once amused and disgusted with so much genius founded on +so much barbarism.<a name="FnAnchor_140" id="FnAnchor_140" href="#Footnote_140"><span class="sp">140</span></a></p> + +<p>When the artist succeeded in conveying to the eye the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page213" id="page213"></a>213</span> +most ludicrous notions of death, the poets also discovered in +it a fertile source of the burlesque. The curious collector is +acquainted with many volumes where the most extraordinary +topics have been combined with this subject. They made the +body and the soul debate together, and ridicule the complaints +of a damned soul! The greater part of the poets of the time +were always composing on the subject of Death in their +humorous pieces.<a name="FnAnchor_141" id="FnAnchor_141" href="#Footnote_141"><span class="sp">141</span></a> Such historical records of the public mind, +historians, intent on political events, have rarely noticed.</p> + +<p>Of a work of this nature, a popular favourite was long the +one entitled “<i>Le faut mourir, et les Excuses Inutiles qu’on +apporte à cette Necessité; Le tout en vers burlesques, 1658</i>.” +Jacques Jacques, a canon of Ambrun, was the writer, who +humorously says of himself that he gives his thoughts just +as they lie on his heart, without dissimulation—“For I have +nothing double about me except my name! I tell thee some +of the most important truths in laughing; it is for thee <i>d’y +penser tout à bon</i>.” This little volume was procured for me +with some difficulty in France; and it is considered as one of +the happiest of this class of death-poems, of which I know +not of any in our literature.</p> + +<p>Our canon of Ambrun, in facetious rhymes, and with the +<i>naïveté</i> of expression which belongs to his age, and an idiomatic +turn fatal to a translator, excels in pleasantry; his +haughty hero condescends to hold very amusing dialogues +with all classes of society, and delights to confound their +“excuses inutiles.” The most miserable of men, the galley-slave, +the mendicant, alike would escape when he appears to +them. “Were I not absolute over them,” Death exclaims, +“they would confound me with their long speeches; but +I have business, and must gallop on!” His geographical +rhymes are droll.</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Ce que j’ai fait dans l’Afrique</p> +<p>Je le fais bien dans l’Amérique;</p> +<p>On l’appelle monde nouveau</p> +<p>Mais ce sont des brides à veau;</p> +<p>Nulle terre à moy n’est nouvelle</p> +<p>Je vay partout sans qu’on m’appelle;</p> +<p>Mon bras de tout temps commanda</p> +<p>Dans le pays du Canada;</p> +<p>J’ai tenu de tout temps en bride</p> +<p>La Virginie et la Floride,</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page214" id="page214"></a>214</span></p> +<p>Et j’ai bien donné sur le bec</p> +<p>Aux Français du fort de Kebec.</p> +<p>Lorsque je veux je fais la nique</p> +<p>Aux Incas, aux rois de Mexique;</p> +<p>Et montre aux Nouveaux Grénadins</p> +<p>Qu’ils sont des foux et des badins.</p> +<p>Chacun sait bien comme je matte</p> +<p>Ceux du Brésil et de la Plate,</p> +<p>Ainsi que les Taupinembous—</p> +<p>En un mot, je fais voir à tout</p> +<p>Que ce que naît dans la nature,</p> +<p>Doit prendre de moy tablature!<a name="FnAnchor_142" id="FnAnchor_142" href="#Footnote_142"><span class="sp">142</span></a></p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>The perpetual employments of Death display copious invention +with a facility of humour.</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Egalement je vay rangeant,</p> +<p>Le conseiller et le serjent,</p> +<p>Le gentilhomme et le berger,</p> +<p>Le bourgeois et le boulanger,</p> +<p>Et la maistresse et la servante</p> +<p>Et la nièce comme la tante;</p> +<p>Monsieur l’abbé, monsieur son moine,</p> +<p>Le petit clerc et le chanoine;</p> +<p>Sans choix je mets dans mon butin</p> +<p>Maistre Claude, maistre Martin,</p> +<p>Dame Luce, dame Perrete, &c.</p> +<p>J’en prends un dans le temps qu’il pleure</p> +<p>A quelque autre, au contraire à l’heure</p> +<p>Qui démésurément il rit;</p> +<p>Je donne le coup qui le frit.</p> +<p>J’en prends un, pendant qu’il se lève;</p> +<p>En se couchant l’autre j’enlève.</p> +<p>Je prends le malade et le sain</p> +<p>L’un aujourd’hui, l’autre le demain.</p> +<p>J’en surprends un dedans son lit,</p> +<p>L’autre à l’estude quand il lit.</p> +<p>J’en surprends un le ventre plein</p> +<p>Je mène l’autre par la faim.</p> +<p>J’attrape l’un pendant qu’il prie,</p> +<p>Et l’autre pendant qu’il renie;</p> +<p>J’en saisis un au cabaret</p> +<p>Entre le blanc et le clairet,</p> +<p>L’autre qui dans son oratoire</p> +<p>A son Dieu rend honneur et gloire:</p> +<p>J’en surprends un lorsqu’il se psame</p> +<p>Le jour qu’il èpouse sa femme,</p> +<p>L’autre le jour que plein de deuil</p> +<p>La sieune il voit dans le cercueil;</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page215" id="page215"></a>215</span></p> +<p>Un à pied et l’autre à cheval,</p> +<p>Dans le jeu l’un, et l’autre au bal;</p> +<p>Un qui mange et l’autre qui boit,</p> +<p>Un qui paye et l’autre qui doit,</p> +<p>L’un en été lorsqu’il moissonne,</p> +<p>L’autre eu vendanges dans l’automne,</p> +<p>L’un criant almanachs nouveaux—</p> +<p>Un qui demande son aumosne</p> +<p>L’autre dans le temps qu’il la donne,</p> +<p>Je prends le bon maistre Clément,</p> +<p>Au temps qu’il prend un lavement,</p> +<p>Et prends la dame Catherine</p> +<p>Le jour qu’elle prend médecine.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>This veil of gaiety in the old canon of Ambrun covers +deeper and more philosophical thoughts than the singular +mode of treating so solemn a theme. He has introduced +many scenes of human life which still interest, and he +addresses the “teste à triple couronne,” as well as the +“forçat de galère,” who exclaims, “Laissez-moi vivre dans +mes fers,” “le gueux,” the “bourgeois,” the “chanoine,” +the “pauvre soldat,” the “médecin;” in a word, all ranks +in life are exhibited, as in all the “Dances of Death.” But +our object in noticing these burlesque paintings and poems is +to show that after the monkish Goths had opened one general +scene of melancholy and tribulation over Europe, and given +birth to that dismal <i>skeleton of death</i>, which still terrifies the +imagination of many, a reaction of feeling was experienced by +the populace, who at length came to laugh at the gloomy +spectre which had so long terrified them!</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_136" id="Footnote_136" href="#FnAnchor_136"><span class="fn">136</span></a> Montfaucon, “L’Antiquité Expliquée,” i. 362.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_137" id="Footnote_137" href="#FnAnchor_137"><span class="fn">137</span></a> A representation of Death by a skeleton appears among the Egyptians: +a custom more singular than barbarous prevailed, of enclosing a skeleton +of beautiful workmanship in a small coffin, which the bearer carried round +at their entertainments; observing, “After death you will resemble this +figure: drink, then! and be happy.” A symbol of Death in a convivial +party was not designed to excite terrific or gloomy ideas, but a recollection +of the brevity of human life.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_138" id="Footnote_138" href="#FnAnchor_138"><span class="fn">138</span></a> “The Accidence of Armorie,” p. 199.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_139" id="Footnote_139" href="#FnAnchor_139"><span class="fn">139</span></a> A woodcut preserved in Mr. Dibdin’s Bibliographical Decameron, i. 35.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_140" id="Footnote_140" href="#FnAnchor_140"><span class="fn">140</span></a> My greatly-lamented friend, the late Mr. Douce, has poured forth the +most curious knowledge on this singular subject, of “The Dance of Death.” +This learned investigator has reduced <i>Macaber</i> to a nonentity, but not +“The Macaber Dance,” which has been frequently painted. Mr. Douce’s +edition is accompanied by a set of woodcuts, which have not unsuccessfully +copied the exquisite originals of the Lyons wood-cutter.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_141" id="Footnote_141" href="#FnAnchor_141"><span class="fn">141</span></a> Goujet, “Bib. Françoise,” vol. x. 185.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_142" id="Footnote_142" href="#FnAnchor_142"><span class="fn">142</span></a> <i>Tablature d’un luth</i>, Cotgrave says, is the belly of a lute, meaning +“all in nature must dance to my music!”</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>THE RIVAL BIOGRAPHERS OF HEYLIN.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Peter Heylin</span> was one of the popular writers of his times, +like Fuller and Howell, who, devoting their amusing pens to +subjects which deeply interested their own busy age, will not +be slighted by the curious.<a name="FnAnchor_143" id="FnAnchor_143" href="#Footnote_143"><span class="sp">143</span></a> We have nearly outlived their +divinity, but not their politics. Metaphysical absurdities are +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page216" id="page216"></a>216</span> +luxuriant weeds which must be cut down by the scythe of +Time; but the great passions branching from the tree of life +are still “growing with our growth.”</p> + +<p>There are two biographies of our Heylin, which led to a +literary quarrel of an extraordinary nature; and, in the progress +of its secret history, all the feelings of rival authorship +were called out.</p> + +<p>Heylin died in 1662. Dr. Barnard, his son-in-law, and a +scholar, communicated a sketch of the author’s life to be prefixed +to a posthumous folio, of which Heylin’s son was the +editor. This Life was given by the son, but anonymously, +which may not have gratified the author, the son-in-law.<a name="FnAnchor_144" id="FnAnchor_144" href="#Footnote_144"><span class="sp">144</span></a></p> + +<p>Twenty years had elapsed when, in 1682, appeared “The +Life of Dr. Peter Heylin, by George Vernon.” The writer, +alluding to the prior Life prefixed to the posthumous folio, +asserts that, in borrowing something from Barnard, Barnard +had also “Excerpted passages out of <i>my papers</i>, the very +words as well as matter, when he had them in his custody, +as any reader may discern who will be at the pains of comparing +the Life now published with what is extant before the +<i>Keimalea Ecclesiastica</i>;” the quaint, pedantic title, after the +fashion of the day, of the posthumous folio.</p> + +<p>This strong accusation seemed countenanced by a dedication +to the son and the nephew of Heylin. Roused now into +action, the indignant Barnard soon produced a more complete +Life, to which he prefixed “A necessary Vindication.” This +is an unsparing castigation of Vernon, the literary pet whom +the Heylins had fondled in preference to their learned relative.<a name="FnAnchor_145" id="FnAnchor_145" href="#Footnote_145"><span class="sp">145</span></a> +The long-smothered family grudge, the suppressed mortifications +of literary pride, after the subterraneous grumblings +of twenty years, now burst out, and the volcanic particles flew +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page217" id="page217"></a>217</span> +about in caustic pleasantries and sharp invectives; all the +lava of an author’s vengeance, mortified by the choice of an +inferior rival.</p> + +<p>It appears that Vernon had been selected by the son of +Heylin, in preference to his brother-in-law, Dr. Barnard, from +some family disagreement. Barnard tells us, in describing +Vernon, that “No man, except himself, who was totally +ignorant of the doctor, and all the circumstances of his life, +would have engaged in such a work, which was never +primarily laid out for him, but by reason of some unhappy +differences, as usually fall out in families; and he, who loves +to put his oar in troubled waters, instead of closing them up, +hath made them wider.”</p> + +<p>Barnard tells his story plainly. Heylin the son, intending +to have a more elaborate Life of his father prefixed to his +works, Dr. Barnard, from the high reverence in which he +held the memory of his father-in-law, offered to contribute it. +Many conferences were held, and the son entrusted him with +several papers. But suddenly his caprice, more than his +judgment, fancied that George Vernon was worth John +Barnard. The doctor affects to describe his rejection with +the most stoical indifference. He tells us—“I was satisfied, +and did patiently expect the coming forth of the work, not +only term after term, but year after year—a very considerable +time for such a tract. But at last, instead of the Life, came +a letter to me from a bookseller in London, who lived at the +sign of the Black Boy, in Fleet-street.”<a name="FnAnchor_146" id="FnAnchor_146" href="#Footnote_146"><span class="sp">146</span></a></p> + +<p>Now, it seems that he who lived at the Black Boy had +combined with another who lived at the Fleur de Luce, and +that the Fleur de Luce had assured the Black Boy that Dr. +Barnard was concerned in writing the Life of Heylin—this +was a strong recommendation. But lo! it appeared that +“one Mr. Vernon, of Gloucester,” was to be the man! a +gentle, thin-skinned authorling, who bleated like a lamb, and +was so fearful to trip out of its shelter, that it allows the +Black Boy and the Fleur de Luce to communicate its papers +to any one they choose, and erase or add at their pleasure.<a name="FnAnchor_147" id="FnAnchor_147" href="#Footnote_147"><span class="sp">147</span></a></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page218" id="page218"></a>218</span></p> + +<p>It occurred to the Black Boy, on this proposed arithmetical +criticism, that the work required addition, subtraction, and +division; that the fittest critic, on whose name, indeed, he +had originally engaged in the work, was our Dr. Barnard; +and he sent the package to the doctor, who resided near +Lincoln.</p> + +<p>The doctor, it appears, had no appetite for a dish dressed +by another, while he himself was in the very act of the +cookery; and it was suffered to lie cold for three weeks at +the carrier’s.</p> + +<p>But entreated and overcome, the good doctor at length +sent to the carrier’s for the life of his father-in-law. “I +found it, according to the bookseller’s description, most lame +and imperfect; ill begun, worse carried on, and abruptly +concluded.” The learned doctor exercised that plenitude of +power with which the Black Boy had invested him—he very +obligingly showed the author in what a confused state his +materials lay together, and how to put them in order—</p> + +<p class="center1 f90">Nec facundia deseret hunc, nec lucidus ordo.</p> + +<p class="noind">If his rejections were copious, to show his good-will as well +as his severity, his additions were generous, though he used +the precaution of carefully distinguishing by “distinct paragraphs” +his own insertions amidst Vernon’s mass, with a +gentle hint that “He knew more of Heylin than any man +now living, and ought therefore to have been the biographer.” +He returned the MS. to the gentleman with great civility, but +none he received back! When Vernon pretended to ask for +improvements, he did not imagine that the work was to be +improved by being nearly destroyed; and when he asked for +correction, he probably expected all might end in a compliment.</p> + +<p>The narrative may now proceed in Dr. Barnard’s details of +his doleful mortifications, in being “altered and mangled” +by Mr. Vernon.</p> + +<p>“Instead of thanks from him (Vernon), and the return of +common civility, he disfigured my papers, that no sooner +came into his hands, but he fell upon them as a lion rampant, +or the cat upon the poor cock in the fable, saying, <i>Tu +hodie mihi discerperis</i>—so my papers came home miserably +clawed, blotted, and blurred; whole sentences dismembered, +and pages scratched out; several leaves omitted which ought +to be printed,—shamefully he used my copy; so that before it +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page219" id="page219"></a>219</span> +was carried to the press, he swooped away the second part of +the Life wholly from it—in the room of which he shuffled in +a preposterous conclusion at the last page, which he printed +in a different character, yet could not keep himself honest, +as the poet saith,</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p><i>Dicitque tua pagina, fur es.</i></p> +<p class="i12"><span class="sc">Martial.</span></p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">For he took out of my copy Dr. Heylin’s dream, his sickness, +his last words before his death, and left out the burning +of his surplice. He so mangled and metamorphosed the +whole Life I composed, that I may say as Sosia did, <i>Egomet +mihi non credo, ille alter Sosia me malis mulcavit modis</i>—<span class="sc">Plaut</span>.”</p> + +<p>Dr. Barnard would have “patiently endured these wrongs;” +but the accusation Vernon ventured on, that Barnard was the +plagiary, required the doctor “to return the poisoned chalice +to his own lips,” that “himself was the plagiary both of +words and matter.” The fact is, that this reciprocal accusation +was owing to Barnard having had a prior perusal of +Heylin’s papers, which afterwards came into the hands of +Vernon: they both drew their water from the same source. +These papers Heylin himself had left for “a rule to guide +the writer of his life.”</p> + +<p>Barnard keenly retorts on Vernon for his surreptitious use +of whole pages from Heylin’s works, which he has appropriated +to himself without any marks of quotation. “I am no such +excerptor (as he calls me); he is of the humour of the man +who took all the ships in the Attic haven for his own, and +yet was himself not master of any one vessel.”</p> + +<p>Again:—</p> + +<p>“But all this while I misunderstand him, for possibly he +meaneth his own dear words I have excerpted. Why doth he +not speak in plain, downright English, that the world may see +my faults? For every one doth not know what is <i>excerpting</i>. +If I have been so bold to pick or snap a word from him, I +hope I may have the benefit of the clergy. What words +have I robbed him of?—and how have I become the richer +for them? I was never so taken with him as to be once +tempted to break the commandments, because I love plain +speaking, plain writing, and plain dealing, which he does +not: I hate the word <i>excerpted</i>, and the action imported in +it. However, he is a fanciful man, and thinks there is no +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page220" id="page220"></a>220</span> +elegancy nor wit but in his own way of talking. I must say +as Tully did, <i>Malim equidem indisertam prudentiam quam +stultam loquacitatem</i>.”</p> + +<p>In his turn he accuses Vernon of being a perpetual transcriber, +and for the Malone minuteness of his history.</p> + +<p>“But how have I excerpted <i>his</i> matter? Then I am sure +to rob the spittle-house; for he is so poor and put to hard +shifts, that he has much ado to compose a tolerable story, +which he hath been hammering and conceiving in his mind +for four years together, before he could bring forth his <i>fœtus</i> +of intolerable transcriptions to molest the reader’s patience +and memory. How doth he run himself out of breath, sometimes +for twenty pages and more, at other times fifteen, ordinarily +nine and ten, collected out of Dr. Heylin’s old books, +before he can take his wind again to return to his story! I +never met with such a transcriber in all my days; for want +of matter to fill up a <i>vacuum</i>, of which his book was in much +danger, he hath set down the story of Westminster, as long +as the Ploughman’s Tale in Chaucer, which to the reader +would have been more pertinent and pleasant. I wonder he +did not transcribe bills of Chancery, especially about a +tedious suit my father had for several years about a lease at +Norton.”</p> + +<p>In his raillery of Vernon’s affected metaphors and comparisons, +“his similitudes and dissimilitudes strangely hooked +in, and fetched as far as the Antipodes,” Barnard observes, +“The man hath also a strange opinion of himself that he is +Dr. Heylin; and because he writes his Life, that he hath his +natural parts, if not acquired. The soul of St. Augustin (say +the schools) was Pythagorically transfused into the corpse of +Aquinas; so the soul of Dr. Heylin into a narrow soul. I +know there is a question in philosophy, <i>An animæ sint +œquales?</i>—whether souls be alike? But there’s a difference +between the spirits of Elijah and Elisha: so small a prophet +with so great a one!”</p> + +<p>Dr. Barnard concludes by regretting that good counsel +came now unseasonably, else he would have advised the +writer to have transmitted his task to one who had been an +ancient friend of Dr. Heylin, rather than ambitiously have +assumed it, who was a professed stranger to him, by reason +of which no better account could be expected from him than +what he has given. He hits off the character of this piece +of biography—“A Life to the half; an imperfect creature, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page221" id="page221"></a>221</span> +that is not only lame (as the honest bookseller said), but +wanteth legs, and all other integral parts of a man; nay, the +very soul that should animate a body like Dr. Heylin. So +that I must say of him, as Plutarch does of Tib. Gracchus, +‘that he is a bold undertaker and rash talker of those matters +he does not understand.’ And so I have done with him, +unless he creates to himself and me a future trouble!”</p> + +<p>Vernon appears to have slunk away from the duel. The +son of Heylin stood corrected by the superior Life produced +by their relative; the learned and vivacious Barnard probably +never again ventured to <i>alter and improve the works of an +author</i> kneeling and praying for corrections. These bleating +lambs, it seems, often turn out roaring lions!<a name="FnAnchor_148" id="FnAnchor_148" href="#Footnote_148"><span class="sp">148</span></a></p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_143" id="Footnote_143" href="#FnAnchor_143"><span class="fn">143</span></a> Dr. Heylin’s principal work, “<i>Ecclesia Restaurata</i>; or, the History +of the Reformation of the Church of England,” was reprinted at the Cambridge +University press, for “the Ecclesiastical History Society,” in 2 vols. +8vo, 1849, under the able editorship of J. C. Robertson, M.A., Vicar of +Bekesbourne, Kent. The introductory account of Heylin has enabled us +to correct the present article in some particulars, and add a few <span class="correction" title="originally 'usefu'">useful</span> +notes.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_144" id="Footnote_144" href="#FnAnchor_144"><span class="fn">144</span></a> Dr. John Barnard married the daughter of Heylin, when he lived at +Abingdon, near Oxford. He afterwards became rector of the rich living +of Waddington, near Lincoln, of which he purchased the perpetual advowson, +holding also the sinecure of Gedney, in the same county. He was +ultimately made Prebendary of Asgarby, in the church of Lincoln, and +died at Newark, on a journey, in August, 1683. His rich and indolent life +would naturally hold out few inducements for literary labour.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_145" id="Footnote_145" href="#FnAnchor_145"><span class="fn">145</span></a> Mr. George Vernon, according to Wood (Athen. Oxon. iv. 606), was +made Chaplain of All Souls’ College, afterwards Rector of Sarsden, near +Churchill, in Oxfordshire, of Bourton-on-the-Water, in Gloucestershire, and +of St. John and St. Michael, in the city of Gloucester. Wood enumerates +several works by him, so that he was evidently more of a “literary man” +than Barnard, who enjoyed “learned ease” to a great degree, and was +evidently only to be aroused by something flagitious.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_146" id="Footnote_146" href="#FnAnchor_146"><span class="fn">146</span></a> This was Harper, a bookseller, who had undertaken a republication of +the <i>Ecclesia Vindicata</i>, and other tracts by Heylin, to which the Life was +to be prefixed.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_147" id="Footnote_147" href="#FnAnchor_147"><span class="fn">147</span></a> The author had “desired Mr. Harper to communicate the papers to +whom he pleases, and cross out or add what is thought convenient.” A +leave very few literary men would give!</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_148" id="Footnote_148" href="#FnAnchor_148"><span class="fn">148</span></a> The most curious part of the story remains yet to be told. Dr. Barnard +was mistaken in his imputations, and Vernon was not the really +blamable party. We tell the tale in Mr. Robertson’s words in the work +already alluded to.—“Who was the party guilty of these outrages? Barnard +assumed that it could be no other than Vernon; but the truth seems +to be that the Rector of Bourton had nothing whatever to do with the +matter. The publisher had called in a more important adviser—Dr. +Barlow, Bishop of Lincoln (Ath. Oxon. iii. 567; iv. 606); the mutilations +of Barnard’s MS. were really the work, not of the obscure Gloucestershire +clergyman, but of the indignant author’s own diocesan; and we need +not hesitate to ascribe the abruptness of the conclusion, and the smallness +of the type in which it is printed, to Mr. Harper’s economical desire to +save the expense of an additional sheet.” Thus “Bishop Barlow and the +bookseller had made the mischief between the parties, who, instead of +attempting a private explanation, attacked each other in print.”</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>OF LENGLET DU FRESNOY.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">The</span> “<i>Méthode pour étudier l’ Histoire</i>,” by the Abbé Lenglet +du Fresnoy, is a master-key to all the locked-up treasures of +ancient and modern history, and to the more secret stores of +the obscurer memorialists of every nation. The history of +this work and its author are equally remarkable. The man +was a sort of curiosity in human nature, as his works are in +literature. Lenglet du Fresnoy is not a writer merely laborious; +without genius, he still has a hardy originality in his +manner of writing and of thinking; and his vast and restless +curiosity fermenting his immense book-knowledge, with a freedom +verging on cynical causticity, led to the pursuit of uncommon +topics. Even the prefaces to the works which he edited +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page222" id="page222"></a>222</span> +are singularly curious, and he has usually added <i>bibliothèques</i>, +or critical catalogues of authors, which we may still consult +for notices on the writers of romances—of those on literary +subjects—on alchymy, or the hermetic philosophy; of those +who have written on apparitions, visions, &c.; an historical +treatise on the secret of confession, &c.; besides those +“Pièces Justificatives,” which constitute some of the most +extraordinary documents in the philosophy of history. His +manner of writing secured him readers even among the unlearned; +his mordacity, his sarcasm, his derision, his pregnant +interjections, his unguarded frankness, and often his +strange opinions, contribute to his reader’s amusement more +than comports with his graver tasks; but his peculiarities +cannot alter the value of his knowledge, whatever they may +sometimes detract from his opinions; and we may safely +admire the ingenuity, without quarrelling with the sincerity +of the writer, who having composed a work on <i>L’Usage des +Romans</i>, in which he gaily impugned the authenticity of all +history, to prove himself not to have been the author, ambidexterously +published another of <i>L’Histoire justifiée contre +les Romans</i>; and perhaps it was not his fault that the attack +was spirited, and the justification dull.</p> + +<p>This “Méthode” and his “Tablettes Chronologiques,” of +nearly forty other publications are the only ones which have +outlived their writer; volumes, merely curious, are exiled to +the shelf of the collector; the very name of an author merely +curious—that shadow of a shade—is not always even preserved +by a dictionary-compiler in the universal charity of +his alphabetical mortuary.</p> + +<p>The history of this work is a striking instance of those +imperfect beginnings, which have often closed in the most +important labours. This admirable “Méthode” made its +first meagre appearance in two volumes in 1713. It was +soon reprinted at home and abroad, and translated into various +languages. In 1729 it assumed the dignity of four +quartos; but at this stage it encountered the vigilance of +government, and the lacerating hand of a celebrated <i>censeur</i>, +Gros de Boze. It is said, that from a personal dislike of the +author, he cancelled one hundred and fifty pages from the +printed copy submitted to his censorship. He had formerly +approved of the work, and had quietly passed over some of +these obnoxious passages: it is certain that Gros de Boze, in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page223" id="page223"></a>223</span> +a dissertation on the Janus of the ancients in this work, +actually erased a high commendation of himself,<a name="FnAnchor_149" id="FnAnchor_149" href="#Footnote_149"><span class="sp">149</span></a> which +Lenglet had, with unusual courtesy, bestowed on Gros de +Boze; for as a critic he is most penurious of panegyric, and +there is always a caustic flavour even in his drops of honey. +This <i>censeur</i> either affected to disdain the commendation, or +availed himself of it as a trick of policy. This was a trying +situation for an author, now proud of a great work, and who +himself partook more of the bull than of the lamb. He who +winced at the scratch of an epithet, beheld his perfect limbs +bruised by erasures and mutilated by cancels. This sort of +troubles indeed was not unusual with Lenglet. He had +occupied his old apartment in the Bastile so often, that at +the sight of the officer who was in the habit of conducting +him there, Lenglet would call for his nightcap and snuff; and +finish the work he had then in hand at the Bastile, where, he +told Jordan, that he made his edition of Marot. He often +silently restituted an epithet or a sentence which had been +condemned by the <i>censeur</i>, at the risk of returning once more; +but in the present desperate affair he took his revenge by collecting +the castrations into a quarto volume, which was sold +clandestinely. I find, by Jordan, in his <i>Voyage Littéraire</i>, +who visited him, that it was his pride to read these cancels +to his friends, who generally, but secretly, were of opinion +that the decision of the <i>censeur</i> was not so wrong as the +hardihood of Lenglet insisted on. All this increased the +public rumour, and raised the price of the cancels. The craft +and mystery of authorship was practised by Lenglet to perfection; +and he often exulted, not only in the subterfuges by +which he parried his <i>censeurs</i>, but in his bargains with his +booksellers, who were equally desirous to possess, while they +half feared to enjoy, his uncertain or his perilous copyrights. +When the <i>unique</i> copy of the <i>Méthode</i>, in its pristine state, +before it had suffered any dilapidations, made its appearance +at the sale of the curious library of the <i>censeur</i> Gros de Boze, +it provoked a Roxburgh competition, where the collectors, +eagerly outbidding each other, the price of this uncastrated +copy reached to 1500 livres; and even more extraordinary in +the history of French bibliography, than in our own. The +curious may now find all these cancel sheets, or <i>castrations</i>, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page224" id="page224"></a>224</span> +preserved in one of those works of literary history, to which +the Germans have contributed more largely than other +European nations, and I have discovered that even the +erasures, or <i>bruises</i>, are amply furnished in another bibliographical +record.<a name="FnAnchor_150" id="FnAnchor_150" href="#Footnote_150"><span class="sp">150</span></a></p> + +<p>This <i>Méthode</i>, after several later editions, was still enlarging +itself by fresh supplements; and having been translated +by men of letters in Europe, by Coleti in Italy, by Mencken +in Germany, and by Dr. Rawlinson in England, these translators +have enriched their own editions by more copious +articles, designed for their respective nations. The sagacity +of the original writer now renovated his work by the infusions +of his translators; like old Æson, it had its veins filled +with green juices; and thus his old work was always undergoing +the magic process of rejuvenescence.<a name="FnAnchor_151" id="FnAnchor_151" href="#Footnote_151"><span class="sp">151</span></a></p> + +<p>The personal character of our author was as singular as +many of the uncommon topics which engaged his inquiries; +these we might conclude had originated in mere eccentricity, +or were chosen at random. But Lenglet has shown no deficiency +of judgment in several works of acknowledged utility; +and his critical opinions, his last editor has shown, have, for +the greater part, been sanctioned by the public voice. It is +curious to observe how the first direction which the mind of +a hardy inquirer may take, will often account for that variety +of uncommon topics he delights in, and which, on a closer +examination, may be found to bear an invisible connexion +with some preceding inquiry. As there is an association of +ideas, so in literary history there is an association of research; +and a very judicious writer may thus be impelled to compose +on subjects which may be deemed strange or injudicious.</p> + +<p>This observation may be illustrated by the literary history +of Lenglet du Fresnoy. He opened his career by addressing +a letter and a tract to the Sorbonne, on the extraordinary +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page225" id="page225"></a>225</span> +affair of Maria d’Agreda, abbess of the nunnery of the Immaculate +Conception in Spain, whose mystical Life of the Virgin, +published on the decease of the abbess, and which was received +with such rapture in Spain, had just appeared at Paris, +where it excited the murmurs of the pious, and the inquiries +of the curious. This mystical Life was declared to be founded +on apparitions and revelations experienced by the abbess. +Lenglet proved, or asserted, that the abbess was not the +writer of this pretended Life, though the manuscript existed +in her handwriting; and secondly, that the apparitions and +revelations recorded were against all the rules of apparitions +and revelations which he had painfully discovered. The +affair was of a delicate nature. The writer was young and +incredulous; a grey-beard, more deeply versed in theology, replied, +and the Sorbonnists silenced our philosopher in embryo.</p> + +<p>Lenglet confined these researches to his portfolio; and so +long a period as fifty-five years had elapsed before they saw +the light. It was when Calmet published his Dissertations +on Apparitions, that the subject provoked Lenglet to return +to his forsaken researches. He now published all he had +formerly composed on the affair of Maria d’Agreda, and two +other works; the one, “<i>Traité historique et dogmatique sur +les Apparitions, les Visions, et les Révélations particulières</i>,” +in two volumes; and “<i>Recueil de Dissertations anciennes et +nouvelles, sur les Apparitions, &c.</i>,” with a catalogue of authors +on this subject, in four volumes. When he edited the <i>Roman +de la Rose</i>, in compiling the glossary of this ancient poem, it +led him to reprint many of the earliest French poets; to give +an enlarged edition of the <i>Arrêts d’Amour</i>, that work of love +and chivalry, in which his fancy was now so deeply embedded; +while the subject of Romance itself naturally led to the taste +of romantic productions which appeared in “<i>L’Usage des +Romans</i>,” and its accompanying copious nomenclature of all +romances and romance-writers, ancient and modern. Our +vivacious Abbé had been bewildered by his delight in the +works of a chemical philosopher; and though he did not believe +in the existence of apparitions, and certainly was more +than a sceptic in history, yet it is certain that the “grande +œuvre” was an article in his creed; it would have ruined him +in experiments, if he had been rich enough to have been +ruined. It altered his health; and the most important result +of his chemical studies appears to have been the invention of +a syrup, in which he had great confidence; but its trial blew +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page226" id="page226"></a>226</span> +him up into a tympany, from which he was only relieved by +having recourse to a drug, also of his own discovery, which, +in counteracting the syrup, reduced him to an alarming state +of atrophy. But the mischances of the historian do not +enter into his history: and our curiosity must be still eager +to open Lenglet’s “Histoire de la Philosophie Hermétique,” +accompanied by a catalogue of the writers in this mysterious +science, in two volumes: as well as his enlarged edition of +the works of a great Paracelsian, Nicholas le Fevre. This +philosopher was appointed by Charles the Second superintendent +over the royal laboratory at St. James’s: he was also +a member of the Royal Society, and the friend of Boyle, to +whom he communicated the secret of infusing young blood +into old veins, with a notion that he could renovate that +which admits of no second creation.<a name="FnAnchor_152" id="FnAnchor_152" href="#Footnote_152"><span class="sp">152</span></a> Such was the origin +of Du Fresnoy’s active curiosity on a variety of singular +topics, the germs of which may be traced to three or four of +our author’s principal works.</p> + +<p>Our Abbé promised to write his own life, and his pugnacious +vivacity, and hardy frankness, would have seasoned a +piece of autobiography; an amateur has, however, written it +in the style which amateurs like, with all the truth he could +discover, enlivened by some secret history, writing the life of +Lenglet with the very spirit of Lenglet: it is a mask taken +from the very features of the man, not the insipid wax-work +of an hyperbolical éloge-maker.<a name="FnAnchor_153" id="FnAnchor_153" href="#Footnote_153"><span class="sp">153</span></a></p> + +<p>Although Lenglet du Fresnoy commenced in early life his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page227" id="page227"></a>227</span> +career as a man of letters, he was at first engaged in the great +chase of political adventure; and some striking facts are recorded, +which show his successful activity. Michault describes +his occupations by a paraphrastical delicacy of language, +which an Englishman might not have so happily composed. +The minister for foreign affairs, the Marquis de Torcy, sent +Lenglet to Lille, where the court of the Elector of Cologne +was then held: “He had particular orders to <i>watch</i> that the +two ministers of the elector should do nothing prejudicial to +the king’s affairs.” He seems, however, to have <i>watched</i> +many other persons, and detected many other things. He +discovered a captain, who agreed to open the gates of Mons +to Marlborough, for 100,000 piastres; the captain was arrested +on the parade, the letter of Marlborough was found in his +pocket, and the traitor was broken on the wheel. Lenglet +denounced a foreign general in the French service, and the +event warranted the prediction. His most important discovery +was that of the famous conspiracy of Prince Cellamar, +one of the chimerical plots of Alberoni; to the honour of +Lenglet, he would not engage in its detection unless the +minister promised that no blood should be shed. These successful +incidents in the life of an honourable spy were rewarded +with a moderate pension.—Lenglet must have been no vulgar +intriguer; he was not only perpetually confined by his very +patrons when he resided at home, for the freedom of his pen, +but I find him early imprisoned in the citadel of Strasburgh +for six months: it is said for purloining some curious books +from the library of the Abbé Bignon, of which he had the +care. It is certain that he knew the value of the scarcest +works, and was one of those lovers of bibliography who trade +at times in costly rarities. At Vienna he became intimately +acquainted with the poet Rousseau, and Prince Eugene. The +prince, however, who suspected the character of our author, +long avoided him. Lenglet insinuated himself into the favour +of the prince’s librarian; and such was his bibliographical +skill, that this acquaintance ended in Prince Eugene laying +aside his political dread, and preferring the advice of Lenglet +to his librarian’s, to enrich his magnificent library. When +the motive of Lenglet’s residence at Vienna became more and +more suspected, Rousseau was employed to <i>watch</i> him; and +not yet having quarrelled with his brother spy, he could only +report that the Abbé Lenglet was every morning occupied in +working on his “Tablettes Chronologiques,” a work not +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page228" id="page228"></a>228</span> +worthy of alarming the government; that he spent his +evenings at a violin-player’s married to a Frenchwoman, and +returned home at eleven. As soon as our historian had discovered +that the poet was a brother spy and newsmonger on +the side of Prince Eugene, their reciprocal civilities cooled. +Lenglet now imagined that he owed his six months’ retirement +in the citadel of Strasburgh to the secret officiousness +of Rousseau: each grew suspicious of the other’s fidelity; +and spies are like lovers, for their mutual jealousies settled +into the most inveterate hatred. One of the most defamatory +libels is Lenglet’s intended dedication of his edition of +Marot to Rousseau, which being forced to suppress in Holland, +by order of the States-general; at Brussels, by the +intervention of the Duke of Aremberg; and by every means +the friends of the unfortunate Rousseau could contrive; was, +however, many years afterwards at length subjoined by Lenglet +to the first volume of his work on Romances; where an +ordinary reader may wonder at its appearance unconnected +with any part of the work. In this dedication, or “Éloge +Historique,” he often addresses “Mon cher Rousseau,” but +the irony is not delicate, and the calumny is heavy. Rousseau +lay too open to the unlicensed causticity of his accuser. +The poet was then expatriated from France for a false accusation +against Saurin, in attempting to fix on him those +criminal couplets, which so long disturbed the peace of the +literary world in France, and of which Rousseau was generally +supposed to be the writer; but of which on his death-bed he +solemnly protested that he was guiltless. The <i>coup-de-grace</i> +is given to the poet, stretched on this rack of invective, by +just accusations on account of those infamous epigrams, which +appear in some editions of that poet’s works; a lesson for a +poet, if poets would be lessoned, who indulge their imagination +at the cost of their happiness, and seem to invent crimes, +as if they themselves were criminals.</p> + +<p>But to return to our Lenglet. Had he composed his own +life, it would have offered a sketch of political servitude and +political adventure, in a man too intractable for the one, and +too literary for the other. Yet to the honour of his capacity, +we must observe that he might have chosen his patrons, +would he have submitted to patronage. Prince Eugene at +Vienna; Cardinal Passionei at Rome; or Mons. Le Blanc, +the French minister, would have held him on his own terms. +But “Liberty and my books!” was the secret ejaculation of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page229" id="page229"></a>229</span> +Lenglet; and from that moment all things in life were sacrificed +to a jealous spirit of independence, which broke out in +his actions as well as in his writings; and a passion for study +for ever crushed the worm of ambition.</p> + +<p>He was as singular in his conversation, which, says Jordan, +was extremely agreeable to a foreigner, for he delivered himself +without reserve on all things, and on all persons, seasoned +with secret and literary anecdotes. He refused all the conveniences +offered by an opulent sister, that he might not endure +the restraint of a settled dinner-hour. He lived to his +eightieth year, still busied, and then died by one of those +grievous chances, to which aged men of letters are liable: our +caustic critic slumbered over some modern work, and, falling +into the fire was burnt to death. Many characteristic anecdotes +of the Abbé Lenglet have been preserved in the <i>Dictionnaire +Historique</i>, but I shall not repeat what is of easy recurrence.</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_149" id="Footnote_149" href="#FnAnchor_149"><span class="fn">149</span></a> This fact appears in the account of the minuter erasures.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_150" id="Footnote_150" href="#FnAnchor_150"><span class="fn">150</span></a> The <i>castrations</i> are in <i>Beyeri Memoriæ historico-criticæ Librorum +rariorum</i>, p. 166. The <i>bruises</i> are carefully noted in the <i>Catalogue of +the Duke de la Valière</i>, 4467. Those who are curious in such singularities +will be gratified by the extraordinary opinions and results in Beyer; and +which after all were purloined from a manuscript “Abridgment of Universal +History,” which was drawn up by Count de Boulainvilliers, and +more adroitly than delicately inserted by Lenglet in his own work. The +original manuscript exists in various copies, which were afterwards discovered. +The minuter corrections, in the Duke de la Valière’s catalogue, +furnish a most enlivening article in the dryness of bibliography.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_151" id="Footnote_151" href="#FnAnchor_151"><span class="fn">151</span></a> The last edition, enlarged by Drouet, is in fifteen volumes, but is not +later than 1772. It is still an inestimable manual for the historical student, +as well as his <i>Tablettes Chronologiques</i>.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_152" id="Footnote_152" href="#FnAnchor_152"><span class="fn">152</span></a> The “Dictionnaire Historique,” 1789, in their article Nich. Le Fevre, +notices the third edition of his “Course of Chemistry,” that of 1664, in +two volumes; but the present one of Lenglet du Fresnoy’s is more recent, +1751, enlarged into five volumes, two of which contain his own additions. +I have never met with this edition, and it is wanting at the British +Museum. Le Fevre published a tract on the great cordial of Sir Walter +Rawleigh, which may be curious.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_153" id="Footnote_153" href="#FnAnchor_153"><span class="fn">153</span></a> This anonymous work of “Mémoires de Monsieur l’Abbé Lenglet du +Fresnoy,” although the dedication is signed G. P., is written by Michault, +of Dijon, as a presentation copy to Count de Vienne in my possession +proves. Michault is the writer of two volumes of agreeable “Mélanges +Historiques et Philologiques;” and the present is a very curious piece of +literary history. The “Dictionnaire Historique” has compiled the article +of Lenglet entirely from this work; but the <i>Journal des Sçavans</i> was too +ascetic in this opinion. <i>Etoit-ce la peine de faire un livre pour apprendre +au public qu’un homme de lettres fut espion, escroc, bizarre, fougueux, +cynique, incapable d’amitié, de soumission aux loix? &c.</i> Yet they do +not pretend that the bibliography of Lenglet du Fresnoy is at all deficient in +curiosity.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>THE DICTIONARY OF TREVOUX.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">A learned</span> friend, in his very agreeable “Trimestre, or a +Three Months’ Journey in France and Switzerland,” could +not pass through the small town of Trevoux without a literary +association of ideas which should accompany every man of +letters in his tours, abroad or at home. A mind well-informed +cannot travel without discovering that there are +objects constantly presenting themselves, which <i>suggest</i> literary, +historical, and moral facts. My friend writes, “As you +proceed nearer to Lyons you stop to dine at Trevoux, on the +left bank of the Saone. On a sloping hill, down to the water-side, +rises an amphitheatre, crowned with an ancient Gothic castle, +in venerable ruin; under it is the small town of Trevoux, well +known for its Journal and Dictionary, which latter is almost +an <span class="correction" title="corrected from enclycopædia">encyclopædia</span>, as <i>there are few things of which something is +not said in that most valuable compilation</i>, and the whole was +printed at Trevoux. The knowledge of this circumstance +greatly enhances the delight of any visitor who has consulted +the book, and is acquainted with its merit; and must add +much to his local pleasures.”</p> + +<p>A work from which every man of letters may be continually +deriving such varied knowledge, and which is little known but +to the most curious readers, claims a place in these volumes; +nor is the history of the work itself without interest. Eight +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page230" id="page230"></a>230</span> +large folios, each consisting of a thousand closely printed +pages, stand like a vast mountain, of which, before we climb, +we may be anxious to learn the security of the passage. The +history of dictionaries is the most mutable of all histories; it +is a picture of the inconstancy of the knowledge of man; +the learning of one generation passes away with another; and +a dictionary of this kind is always to be repaired, to be +rescinded, and to be enlarged.</p> + +<p>The small town of Trevoux gave its name to an excellent +literary journal, long conducted by the Jesuits, and to this +dictionary—as Edinburgh has to its Critical Review and +Annual Register, &c. It first came to be distinguished as a +literary town from the Duc du Maine, as prince sovereign of +Dombes,<a name="FnAnchor_154" id="FnAnchor_154" href="#Footnote_154"><span class="sp">154</span></a> transferring to this little town of Trevoux not only +his parliament and other public institutions, but also establishing +a magnificent printing-house, in the beginning of the +last century. The duke, probably to keep his printers in constant +employ, instituted the “<i>Journal de Trévoux</i>;” and +this perhaps greatly tended to bring the printing-house into +notice, so that it became a favourite with many good writers, +who appear to have had no other connexion with the +place; and this dictionary borrowed its first title, which it +always preserved, merely from the place where it was printed. +Both the journal and the dictionary were, however, consigned +to the care of some learned Jesuits; and perhaps the place +always indicated the principles of the writers, of whom none +were more eminent for elegant literature than the Jesuits.<a name="FnAnchor_155" id="FnAnchor_155" href="#Footnote_155"><span class="sp">155</span></a></p> + +<p>The first edition of this dictionary sprung from the spirit +of rivalry, occasioned by a French dictionary published in +Holland, by the protestant Basnage de Beauval. The duke +set his Jesuits hastily to work; who, after a pompous +announcement that this dictionary was formed on a plan +suggested by their patron, did little more than pillage Furetière, +and rummage Basnage, and produced three new folios +without any novelties; they pleased the Duc <span class="correction" title="amended from 'de'">du</span> Maine, and +no one else. This was in 1704. Twenty years after, it was +republished and improved; and editions increasing, the +volumes succeeded each other, till it reached to its present +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page231" id="page231"></a>231</span> +magnitude and value in eight large folios, in 1771, the only +edition now esteemed. Many of the names of the contributors +to this excellent collection of words and things, the +industry of Monsieur Barbier has revealed in his “Dictionnaire +des Anonymes,” art. 10782. The work, in the progress +of a century, evidently became a favourite receptacle with +men of letters in France, who eagerly contributed the smallest +or largest articles with a zeal honourable to literature and +most useful to the public. They made this dictionary their +commonplace book for all their curious acquisitions; every +one competent to write a short article, preserving an important +fact, did not aspire to compile the dictionary, or even an +entire article in it; but it was a treasury in which such mites +collected together formed its wealth; and all the literati may +be said to have engaged in perfecting these volumes during +a century. In this manner, from the humble beginnings of +three volumes, in which the plagiary much more than the +contributor was visible, eight were at length built up with +more durable materials, and which claim the attention and +the gratitude of the student.</p> + +<p>The work, it appears, interested the government itself, as a +national concern, from the tenor of the following anecdotes.</p> + +<p>Most of the minor contributors to this great collection +were satisfied to remain anonymous; but as might be expected +among such a number, sometimes a contributor was +anxious to be known to his circle; and did not like this penitential +abstinence of fame. An anecdote recorded of one of +this class will amuse: A Monsieur Lautour du Chatel, avocat +au parlement de Normandie, voluntarily devoted his studious +hours to improve this work, and furnished nearly three thousand +articles to the supplement of the edition of 1752. This +ardent scholar had had a lively quarrel thirty years before +with the first authors of the dictionary. He had sent them +one thousand three hundred articles, on condition that the +donor should be handsomely thanked in the preface of the +new edition, and further receive a copy <i>en grand papier</i>. +They were accepted. The conductors of the new edition, in +1721, forgot all the promises—nor thanks, nor copy! Our +learned avocat, who was a little irritable, as his nephew who +wrote his life acknowledges, as soon as the great work +appeared, astonished, like Dennis, that “they were rattling +his own thunder,” without saying a word, quits his country +town, and ventures, half dead with sickness and indignation, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page232" id="page232"></a>232</span> +on an expedition to Paris, to make his complaint to the chancellor; +and the work was deemed of that importance in the +eye of government, and so zealous a contributor was considered +to have such an honourable claim, that the chancellor +ordered, first, that a copy on large paper should be immediately +delivered to Monsieur Lautour, richly bound and free +of carriage; and secondly, as a reparation of the unperformed +promise, and an acknowledgment of gratitude, the omission +of thanks should be inserted and explained in the three great +literary journals of France; a curious instance, among others, +of the French government often mediating, when difficulties +occurred in great literary undertakings, and considering not +lightly the claims and the honours of men of letters.</p> + +<p>Another proof, indeed, of the same kind, concerning the +present work, occurred after the edition of 1752. One Jamet +l’aîné, who had with others been usefully employed on this +edition, addressed a proposal to government for an improved +one, dated from the Bastile. He proposed that the government +should choose a learned person, accustomed to the +labour of the researches such a work requires; and he calculated, +that if supplied with three amanuenses, such an editor +would accomplish his task in about ten or twelve years, the +produce of the edition would soon repay all the expenses and +capital advanced. This literary projector did not wish to +remain idle in the Bastile. Fifteen years afterwards the last +improved edition appeared, published by the associated booksellers +of Paris.</p> + +<p>As for the work itself, it partakes of the character of our +Encyclopædias; but in this respect it cannot be safely consulted, +for widely has science enlarged its domains and corrected +its errors since 1771. But it is precious as a vast +collection of ancient and modern learning, particularly in that +sort of knowledge which we usually term antiquarian and +philological. It is not merely a grammatical, scientific, and +technical dictionary, but it is replete with divinity, law, +moral philosophy, critical and historical learning, and abounds +with innumerable miscellaneous curiosities. It would be +difficult, whatever may be the subject of inquiry, to open it, +without the gratification of some knowledge neither obvious +nor trivial. I heard a man of great learning declare, that +whenever he could not recollect his knowledge he opened +Hoffman’s <i>Lexicon Universale Historicum</i>, where he was +sure to find what he had lost. The works are similar; and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page233" id="page233"></a>233</span> +valuable as are the German’s four folios, the eight of the +Frenchman may safely be recommended as their substitute, +or their supplement. As a Dictionary of the French Language +it bears a peculiar feature, which has been presumptuously +dropped in the Dictionnaire de l’Académie; the last +invents phrases to explain words, which therefore have no +other authority than the writer himself! this of Trevoux is +furnished, not only with mere authorities, but also with quotations +from the classical French writers—an improvement +which was probably suggested by the English Dictionary of +Johnson. One nation improves by another.</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_154" id="Footnote_154" href="#FnAnchor_154"><span class="fn">154</span></a> It was always acknowledged as an independent state by the French +kings from the time of Philip Augustus. It had its own parliament, and +the privilege also of coining its own money.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_155" id="Footnote_155" href="#FnAnchor_155"><span class="fn">155</span></a> The house in which the Jesuits resided, having the shield of arms of +their order over its portal, still remains at Trevoux.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>QUADRIO’S ACCOUNT OF ENGLISH POETRY.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">It</span> is, perhaps, somewhat mortifying in our literary researches +to discover that our own literature has been only known to +the other nations of Europe comparatively within recent +times. We have at length triumphed over our continental +rivals in the noble struggles of genius, and our authors now +see their works printed even at foreign presses, while we are +furnishing with our gratuitous labours nearly the whole literature +of a new empire; yet so late as in the reign of Anne, +our poets were only known by the Latin versifiers of the +“Musæ Anglicanæ;” and when Boileau was told of the public +funeral of Dryden, he was pleased with the national honours +bestowed on genius, but he declared that he never heard of +his name before. This great legislator of Parnassus has never +alluded to one of our own poets, so insular then was our literary +glory! The most remarkable fact, or perhaps assertion, +I have met with, of the little knowledge which the Continent +had of our writers, is a French translation of Bishop Hall’s +“Characters of Virtues and Vices.” It is a duodecimo, +printed at Paris, of 109 pages, 1610, with this title <i>Charactères +de Vertus et de Vices; tirés de l’Anglois de M. Josef +Hall</i>. In a dedication to the Earl of Salisbury, the translator +informs his lordship that “<i>ce livre est la</i> première traduction +de l’Anglois <i>jamais</i> imprimée en aucun vulgaire”—the first +translation from the English ever printed in any modern language! +Whether the translator is a bold liar, or an ignorant +blunderer, remains to be ascertained; at all events it is a +humiliating demonstration of the small progress which our +home literature had made abroad in 1610!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page234" id="page234"></a>234</span></p> + +<p>I come now to notice a contemporary writer, professedly +writing the history of our Poetry, of which his knowledge +will open to us as we proceed with our enlightened and amateur +historian.</p> + +<p>Father Quadrio’s <i>Della Storia e dell’ ragione d’ ogni +Poesia</i>,—is a gigantic work, which could only have been projected +and persevered in by some hypochondriac monk, who, +to get rid of the <i>ennui</i> of life, could discover no pleasanter +way than to bury himself alive in seven monstrous closely-printed +quartos, and every day be compiling something on a +subject which he did not understand. Fortunately for Father +Quadrio, without taste to feel, and discernment to decide, +nothing occurred in this progress of literary history and criticism +to abridge his volumes and his amusements; and with +diligence and erudition unparalleled, he has here built up a +receptacle for his immense, curious, and trifling knowledge on +the poetry of every nation. Quadrio is among that class of +authors whom we receive with more gratitude than pleasure, +fly to sometimes to quote, but never linger to read; and fix +on our shelves, but seldom have in our hands.</p> + +<p>I have been much mortified, in looking over this voluminous +compiler, to discover, although he wrote so late as about +1750, how little the history of English poetry was known to +foreigners. It is assuredly our own fault. We have too +long neglected the bibliography and the literary history of +our own country. Italy, Spain, and France have enjoyed +eminent bibliographers—we have none to rival them. Italy +may justly glory in her Tiraboschi and her Mazzuchelli; +Spain in the Bibliothecas of Nicholas Antonio; and France, +so rich in bibliographical treasures, affords models to every +literary nation of every species of literary history. With us, +the partial labour of the hermit Anthony for the Oxford +writers, compiled before philosophical criticism existed in the +nation; and Warton’s History of Poetry, which was left unfinished +at its most critical period, when that delightful antiquary +of taste had just touched the threshold of his Paradise—these +are the sole great labours to which foreigners might +resort, but these will not be found of much use to them. The +neglect of our own literary history has, therefore, occasioned +the errors, sometimes very ridiculous ones, of foreign writers +respecting our authors. Even the lively Chaudon, in his +“Dictionnaire Historique,” gives the most extraordinary +accounts of most of the English writers. Without an English +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page235" id="page235"></a>235</span> +guide to attend such weary travellers, they have too +often been deceived by the <i>mirages</i> of our literature. They +have given blundering accounts of works which do exist, and +chronicled others which never did exist; and have often made +up the personal history of our authors, by confounding two +or three into one. Chaudon, mentioning Dryden’s tragedies, +observes, that Atterbury translated two into Latin verse, +entitled <i>Achitophel</i> and <i>Absalom</i>!<a name="FnAnchor_156" id="FnAnchor_156" href="#Footnote_156"><span class="sp">156</span></a></p> + +<p>Of all these foreign authors, none has more egregiously +failed than this good Father Quadrio. In this universal history +of poetry, I was curious to observe what sort of figure +we made, and whether the fertile genius of our original +poets had struck the foreign critic with admiration or with +critical censure. But little was our English poetry known +to its universal historian. In the chapter on those who have +cultivated “la melica poesia in propria lingua tra, Tedeschi, +Fiamminghi e Inglesi,”<a name="FnAnchor_157" id="FnAnchor_157" href="#Footnote_157"><span class="sp">157</span></a> we find the following list of English +poets.</p> + +<p>“Of John Gower; whose rhymes and verses are preserved +in manuscript in the college of the most Holy Trinity, in +Cambridge.</p> + +<p>“Arthur Kelton, flourished in 1548, a skilful English +poet: he composed various poems in English; also he lauds +the Cambrians and their genealogy.</p> + +<p>“The works of William Wycherly, in English prose and +verse.”</p> + +<p>These were the only English poets whom Quadrio at first +could muster together! In his subsequent additions he +caught the name of Sir Philip Sidney with an adventurous +criticism, “le sue poesie assai buone.” He then was lucky +enough to pick up the title—not the volume, surely—which +was one of the rarest; “Fiori poetici de A. Cowley,” which +he calls “poesie amorose:” this must mean that early +volume of Cowley’s, published in his thirteenth year, under +the title of “Poetical Blossoms.” Further he laid hold of +“John Donne” by the skirt, and “Thomas Creech,” at whom +he made a full pause, informing his Italians that “his poems +are reputed by his nation as ‘assai buone.’” He has also +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page236" id="page236"></a>236</span> +“Le opere di Guglielmo;” but to this Christian name, as it +would appear, he had not ventured to add the surname. At +length, in his progress of inquiry, in his fourth volume (for +they were published at different periods), he suddenly discovers +a host of English poets—in Waller, Duke of Buckingham, +Lord Roscommon, and others, among whom is Dr. +Swift; but he acknowledges their works have not reached +him. Shakspeare at length appears on the scene; but +Quadrio’s notions are derived from Voltaire, whom, perhaps, +he boldly translates. Instead of improving our drama, he +conducted it <i>a totale rovina nelle sue farse monstruose, che si +chiaman tragedie; alcune scene vi abbia luminose e belle e +alcuni tratti si trovono terribili e grandi</i>. Otway is said to +have composed a tragic drama on the subject of “Venezia +Salvata;” he adds with surprise, “ma affatto regolare.” +Regularity is the essence of genius with such critics as +Quadrio. Dryden is also mentioned; but the only drama +specified is “King Arthur.” Addison is the first Englishman +who produced a classical tragedy; but though Quadrio +writes much about the life of Addison, he never alludes to +the Spectator.</p> + +<p>We come now to a more curious point. Whether Quadrio +had read our <i>comedies</i> may be doubtful; but he distinguishes +them by very high commendation. Our comedy, he says, +represents human life, the manners of citizens and the +people, much better than the French and Spanish comedies, +in which all the business of life is mixed up with love affairs. +The Spaniards had their gallantry from the Moors, +and their manners from chivalry; to which they added their +tumid African taste, differing from that of other nations. I +shall translate what he now adds of English comedy.</p> + +<p>“The English, more skilfully even than the French, have +approximated to the true idea of comic subjects, choosing for +the argument of their invention the customary and natural +objects of the citizens and the populace. And when religion +and decorum were more respected in their theatres, they +were more advanced in this species of poetry, and merited +not a little praise, above their neighbouring nations. But +more than the English and the French (to speak according to +pure and bare truth) have the Italians signalised themselves.” +A sly, insinuating criticism! But, as on the +whole, for reasons which I cannot account for, Father Quadrio +seems to have relished our English comedy, we must +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page237" id="page237"></a>237</span> +value his candour. He praises our comedy; “per il bello ed +il buono;” but, as he is a methodical Aristotelian, he will +not allow us that liberty in the theatre which we are supposed +to possess in parliament—by delivering whatever we +conceive to the purpose. His criticism is a specimen of the +irrefragable. “We must not abandon legitimate rules <i>to give +mere pleasure thereby</i>; because pleasure is produced by, and +flows from, the <i>beautiful</i>; and the beautiful is chiefly drawn +from the good order and unity in which it consists!”</p> + +<p>Quadrio succeeded in discovering the name of one of our +greatest comic geniuses; for, alluding to our diversity of +action in comedy, he mentions in his fifth volume, page 148,—“Il +celebre <i>Benjanson</i>, nella sua commedia intitolato <i>Bartolommeo +Foicere</i>, e in quella altra commedia intitolato <i>Ipsum +Veetz</i>.” The reader may decipher the poet’s name with his +<i>Fair</i>; but it required the critical sagacity of Mr. Douce to +discover that by <i>Ipsum Veetz</i> we are to understand Shadwell’s +comedy of <i>Epsom Wells</i>. The Italian critic had +transcribed what he and his Italian printer could not spell. +We have further discovered the source of his intelligence in +St. Evremond, who had classed Shadwell’s comedy with Ben +Jonson’s. To such shifts is the writer of an universal history +<i>d’ ogni Poesia</i> miserably reduced!</p> + +<p>Towards the close of the fifth volume we at last find the +sacred muse of Milton,—but, unluckily, he was a man “di +pochissima religione,” and spoke of Christ like an Arian. +Quadrio quotes Ramsay for Milton’s vomiting forth abuse on +the Roman Church. His figures are said to be often mean, +unworthy of the majesty of his subject; but in a later +place, excepting his religion, our poet, it is decided on, is +worthy “di molti laudi.”</p> + +<p>Thus much for the information the curious may obtain on +English poetry from its universal history. Quadrio unquestionably +writes with more ignorance than prejudice against +us: he has not only highly distinguished the comic genius of +our writers, and raised it above that of our neighbours, but +he has also advanced another discovery, which ranks us still +higher for original invention, and which, I am confident, will +be as new as it is extraordinary to the English reader.</p> + +<p>Quadrio, who, among other erudite accessories to his work, +has exhausted the most copious researches on the origin of +Punch and Harlequin, has also written, with equal curiosity +and value, the history of Puppet-shows. But whom has he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page238" id="page238"></a>238</span> +lauded? whom has he placed paramount, above all other +people, for their genius of invention in improving this art!—The +English! and the glory which has hitherto been universally +conceded to the Italian nation themselves, appears to +belong to us! For we, it appears, while others were dandling +and pulling their little representatives of human nature +into such awkward and unnatural motions, first invented +pulleys, or wires, and gave a fine and natural action to the +artificial life of these gesticulating machines!</p> + +<p>We seem to know little of ourselves as connected with the +history of puppet-shows; but in an article in the curious +Dictionary of Trevoux, I find that John Brioché, to whom +had been attributed the invention of <i>Marionnettes</i>, is only to +be considered as an improver; in his time (but the learned +writers supply no date) <i>an Englishman</i> discovered the secret +of moving them by springs, and without strings; but the +Marionnettes of Brioché were preferred for the pleasantries +which he made them deliver. The erudite Quadrio appears +to have more successfully substantiated our claims to the +pulleys or wires, or springs of the puppets, than any of our +own antiquaries; and perhaps the uncommemorated name of +this Englishman was that Powell, whose Solomon and Sheba +were celebrated in the days of Addison and Steele; the +former of whom has composed a classical and sportive Latin +poem on this very subject. But Quadrio might well rest +satisfied that the nation which could boast of its <i>Fantoccini</i>, +surpassed, and must ever surpass the puny efforts of a +doll-loving people!</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_156" id="Footnote_156" href="#FnAnchor_156"><span class="fn">156</span></a> Even recently, il Cavaliere Onofrio Boni, in his Eloge of Lanzi, in +naming the three Augustan periods of modern literature, fixes them, for +the Italians, under Leo the Tenth; for the French, under Louis the Fourteenth, +or the Great; and for the English, under Charles the Second!</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_157" id="Footnote_157" href="#FnAnchor_157"><span class="fn">157</span></a> Quadrio, vol. ii. p. 416.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>“POLITICAL RELIGIONISM.”</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">In</span> Professor Dugald Stewart’s first Dissertation on the +Progress of Philosophy, I find this singular and significant +term. It has occasioned me to reflect on those contests +for religion, in which a particular faith has been made +the ostensible pretext, while the secret motive was usually +political. The historians, who view in religious wars only +religion itself, have written large volumes, in which we may +never discover that they have either been a struggle to +obtain predominance, or an expedient to secure it. The +hatreds of ambitious men have disguised their own purposes, +while Christianity has borne the odium of loosening a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page239" id="page239"></a>239</span> +destroying spirit among mankind; which, had Christianity +never existed, would have equally prevailed in human affairs. +Of a moral malady, it is not only necessary to know +the nature, but to designate it by a right name, that we may +not err in our mode of treatment. If we call that <i>religious</i> +which we shall find for the greater part is <i>political</i>, we are +likely to be mistaken in the regimen and the cure.</p> + +<p>Fox, in his “Acts and Monuments,” writes the martyrology +of the <i>Protestants</i> in three mighty folios; where, +in the third, “the tender mercies” of the Catholics are “cut +in wood” for those who might not otherwise be enabled +to read or spell them. Such pictures are abridgments +of long narratives, but they leave in the mind a fulness of +horror. Fox made more than one generation shudder; +and his volume, particularly this third, chained to a reading-desk +in the halls of the great, and in the aisles of churches, +often detained the loiterer, as it furnished some new scene +of papistical horrors to paint forth on returning to his +fireside. The protestants were then the martyrs, because, +under Mary, the protestants had been thrown out of power.</p> + +<p>Dodd has opposed to Fox three curious folios, which he calls +“The Church History of England,” exhibiting a most abundant +martyrology of the <i>catholics</i>, inflicted by the hands of +the protestants; who in the succeeding reign of Elizabeth, +after long trepidations and balancings, were confirmed into +power. He grieves over the delusion and seduction of the +black-letter romance of honest John Fox, which he says, “has +obtained a place in protestant churches next to the Bible, +while John Fox himself is esteemed little less than an +evangelist.”<a name="FnAnchor_158" id="FnAnchor_158" href="#Footnote_158"><span class="sp">158</span></a> Dodd’s narratives are not less pathetic: for +the situation of the catholic, who had to secrete himself, as +well as to suffer, was more adapted for romantic adventures, +than even the melancholy but monotonous story of the protestants +tortured in the cell, or bound to the stake. These +catholics, however, were attempting all sorts of intrigues; and +the saints and martyrs of Dodd, to the parliament of +England, were only traitors and conspirators!</p> + +<p>Heylin, in his history of the <i>Puritans</i> and the <i>Presbyterians</i>, +blackens them for political devils. He is the Spagnolet +of history, delighting himself with horrors at which the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page240" id="page240"></a>240</span> +painter himself must have started. He tells of their “oppositions” +to monarchical and episcopal government; their +“innovations” in the church; and their “embroilments” of +the kingdoms. The sword rages in their hands; treason, +sacrilege, plunder; while “more of the blood of Englishmen +had poured like water within the space of four years, than +had been shed in the civil wars of York and Lancaster in four +centuries!”</p> + +<p>Neal opposes a more elaborate history; where these “great +and good men,” the puritans and the presbyterians, “are +placed among the <i>reformers</i>;” while their fame is blanched +into angelic purity. Neal and his party opined that the protestant +had not sufficiently protested, and that the reformation +itself needed to be reformed. They wearied the +impatient Elizabeth and her ardent churchmen; and disputed +with the learned James, and his courtly bishops, about such +ceremonial trifles, that the historian may blush or smile who +has to record them. And when the <i>puritan</i> was thrown out +of preferment, and seceded into separation, he turned into a +<i>presbyter</i>. Nonconformity was their darling sin, and their +sullen triumph.</p> + +<p>Calamy, in four painful volumes, chronicles the bloodless +martyrology of the two thousand silenced and ejected +ministers. Their history is not glorious, and their heroes are +obscure; but it is a domestic tale. When the second Charles +was restored, the <i>presbyterians</i>, like every other faction, were +to be amused, if not courted. Some of the king’s chaplains +were selected from among them, and preached once. Their +hopes were raised that they should, by some agreement, +be enabled to share in that ecclesiastical establishment which +they had so often opposed; and the bishops met the presbyters +in a convocation at the Savoy. A conference was +held between the <i>high church</i>, resuming the seat of power, +and the <i>low church</i>, now prostrate; that is, between the <i>old +clergy</i> who had recently been mercilessly ejected by the <i>new</i>, +who in their turn were awaiting their fate. The conference +was closed with arguments by the weaker, and votes by the +stronger. Many curious anecdotes of this conference have +come down to us. The presbyterians, in their last struggle, +petitioned for <i>indulgence</i>; but oppressors who had become +petitioners, only showed that they possessed no longer the +means of resistance. This conference was followed up by the +<i>Act of Uniformity</i>, which took place on Bartholomew day, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page241" id="page241"></a>241</span> +August 24, 1652: an act which ejected Calamy’s two +thousand ministers from the bosom of the established church. +Bartholomew day with this party was long paralleled, and +perhaps is still, with the dreadful French massacre of that +fatal saint’s day. The calamity was rather, however, of +a private than of a public nature. The two thousand ejected +ministers were indeed deprived of their livings; but this was, +however, a happier fate than what has often occurred in these +contests for the security of political power. This <i>ejection</i> +was not like the expulsion of the Moriscoes, the best and +most useful subjects of Spain, which was a human sacrifice of +half a million of men, and the proscription of many Jews +from that land of Catholicism; or the massacre of thousands +of Huguenots, and the expulsion of more than a hundred +thousand by Louis the Fourteenth from France. The +presbyterian divines were not driven from their fatherland, +and compelled to learn another language than their mother-tongue. +Destitute as divines, they were suffered to remain +as citizens; and the result was remarkable. These divines +could not disrobe themselves of their learning and their piety, +while several of them were compelled to become tradesmen: +among these the learned Samuel Chandler, whose literary +productions are numerous, kept a bookseller’s shop in the +Poultry.</p> + +<p>Hard as this event proved in its result, it was, however, +pleaded, that “It was but like for like.” And that the history +of “the like” might not be curtailed in the telling, +opposed to Calamy’s chronicle of the two thousand ejected +ministers stands another, in folio magnitude, of the same sort +of chronicle of the clergy of the Church of England, +with a title by no means less pathetic.</p> + +<p>This is Walker’s “Attempt towards recovering an Account +of the Clergy of the Church of England who were +sequestered, harassed, &c., in the late Times.” Walker +is himself astonished at the size of his volume, the number of +his sufferers, and the variety of the sufferings. “Shall +the church,” says he, “not have the liberty to preserve +the history of her sufferings, as well as the <i>separation</i> to set +forth an account of theirs? Can Dr. Calamy be acquitted for +publishing the history of the <i>Bartholomew sufferers</i>, if +I am condemned for writing that of the <i>sequestered +loyalists</i>?” He allows that “the number of the ejected +amounts to two thousand,” and there were no less than +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page242" id="page242"></a>242</span> +“seven or eight thousand of the episcopal clergy imprisoned, +banished, and sent a starving,” &c. &c.</p> + +<p>Whether the reformed were martyred by the catholics, or +the catholics executed by the reformed; whether the puritans +expelled those of the established church, or the established +church ejected the puritans, all seems reducible to two +classes, conformists and non-conformists, or, in the political +style, the administration and the opposition. When we +discover that the heads of all parties are of the same +hot temperament, and observe the same evil conduct in +similar situations; when we view honest old Latimer with his +own hands hanging a mendicant friar on a tree, and, the +government changing, the friars binding Latimer to the +stake; when we see the French catholics cutting out +the tongues of the protestants, that they might no longer +protest; the haughty Luther writing submissive apologies to +Leo the Tenth and Henry the Eighth for the scurrility with +which he had treated them in his writings, and finding +that his apologies were received with contempt, then retracting +his retractations; when we find that haughtiest of the +haughty, John Knox, when Elizabeth first ascended the +throne, crouching and repenting of having written his famous +excommunication against all female sovereignty; or pulling +down the monasteries, from the axiom that when the rookery +was destroyed, the rooks would never return; when we find +his recent apologist admiring, while he apologises for, some +extraordinary proofs of Machiavelian politics, an impenetrable +mystery seems to hang over the conduct of men who profess +to be guided by the bloodless code of Jesus. But try them by +a human standard, and treat them as <i>politicians</i>, and the +motives once discovered, the actions are understood!</p> + +<p>Two edicts of Charles the Fifth, in 1555, condemned to +death the Reformed of the Low Countries, even should they +return to the catholic faith, with this exception, however, +in favour of the latter, that they shall not be burnt alive, +but that the men shall be beheaded, and the women buried +alive! <i>Religion</i> could not, then, be the real motive of the +Spanish cabinet, for in returning to the ancient faith that +point was obtained; but the truth is, that the Spanish +government considered the reformed as <i>rebels</i>, whom it was +not safe to re-admit to the rights of citizenship. The undisguised +fact appears in the codicil to the will of the emperor, +when he solemnly declares that he had written to the Inquisition +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page243" id="page243"></a>243</span> +“to burn and extirpate the heretics,” <i>after trying to +make Christians of them</i>, because he is convinced that they +never can become sincere catholics; and he acknowledges +that he had committed a great fault in permitting Luther +to return free on the faith of his safe-conduct, as the emperor +was not bound to keep a promise with a heretic. “It is +because that I destroyed him not, that heresy has now +become strong, which I am convinced might have been +stifled with him in its birth.”<a name="FnAnchor_159" id="FnAnchor_159" href="#Footnote_159"><span class="sp">159</span></a> The whole conduct of +Charles the Fifth in this mighty revolution was, from its +beginning, censured by contemporaries as purely <i>political</i>. +Francis the First observed that the emperor, under the colour +of religion, was placing himself at the head of a league to +make his way to a predominant monarchy. “The pretext +of religion is no new thing,” writes the Duke of Nevers. +“Charles the Fifth had never undertaken a war against the +Protestant princes but with the design of rendering the +Imperial crown hereditary in the house of Austria; and he +has only attacked the electoral princes to ruin them, and to +abolish their right of election. Had it been zeal for the +catholic religion, would he have delayed from 1519 to +1549 to arm? That he might have extinguished the Lutheran +heresy, which he could easily have done in 1526, but +he considered that this novelty would serve to divide the +German princes, and he patiently waited till the effect was +realised.”<a name="FnAnchor_160" id="FnAnchor_160" href="#Footnote_160"><span class="sp">160</span></a></p> + +<p>Good men of both parties, mistaking the nature of these +religious wars, have drawn horrid inferences! The “dragonnades” +of Louis XIV. excited the admiration of Bruyère; +and Anquetil, in his “Esprit de la Ligue,” compares the +revocation of the Edict of Nantes to a salutary amputation. +The massacre of St. Bartholomew in its own day, and even +recently, has found advocates; a Greek professor at the time +asserted that there were <i>two classes</i> of protestants in France—political +and religious; and that “the late ebullition of +public vengeance was solely directed against the former.” +Dr. M’Crie, cursing the catholic with a catholic’s curse, execrates +“the stale sophistry of this calumniator.” But +should we allow that the Greek professor who advocated +their national crime was the wretch the calvinistic doctor +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page244" id="page244"></a>244</span> +describes, yet the nature of things cannot be altered by the +equal violence of Peter Charpentier and Dr. M’Crie.</p> + +<p>This subject of “Political Religionism” is indeed as nice +as it is curious; <i>politics</i> have been so cunningly worked into +the cause of <i>religion</i>, that the parties themselves will never +be able to separate them; and to this moment the most opposite +opinions are formed concerning the same events and the +same persons. When public disturbances broke out at Nismes +on the first restoration of the Bourbons, the protestants, +who there are numerous, declared that they were persecuted +for religion, and their cry, echoed by their brethren +the dissenters, resounded in this country. We have not +forgotten the ferment it raised here; much was said, and +something was done. Our minister, however, persisted in +declaring that it was a mere <i>political</i> affair. It is clear that +our government was right on the <i>cause</i>, and those zealous +complainants wrong, who only observed the <i>effect</i>; for as +soon as the Bourbonists had triumphed over the Bonapartists, +we heard no more of those sanguinary persecutions of the +protestants of Nismes, of which a dissenter has just published +a large history. It is a curious fact, that when two writers +at the same time were occupied in a Life of Cardinal Ximenes, +Flechier converted the cardinal into a saint, and every incident +in his administration was made to connect itself with +his religious character; Marsollier, a writer very inferior to +Flechier, shows the cardinal merely as a politician. The +elegances of Flechier were soon neglected by the public, and +the deep interests of truth soon acquired, and still retain, for +the less elegant writer the attention of the statesman.</p> + +<p>A modern historian has observed that “the affairs of +religion were the grand fomenters and promoters of the +<i>Thirty Years’ War</i>, which first brought down the powers of +the North to mix in the politics of the Southern states.” +The fact is indisputable, but the cause is not so apparent. +Gustavus Adolphus, the vast military genius of his age, had +designed, and was successfully attempting, to oppose the +overgrown power of the imperial house of Austria, which +had long aimed at an universal monarchy in Europe; a circumstance +which Philip IV. weakly hinted at to the world +when he placed this motto under his arms—“<i>Sine ipso factum +est nihil</i>;” an expression applied to Jesus Christ by +St. John!</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_158" id="Footnote_158" href="#FnAnchor_158"><span class="fn">158</span></a> “Fox’s Martyrs,” as the book was popularly called, was often chained +to a reading-desk in churches; one is still thus affixed at Cirencester; +it thus received equal honour with the Bible.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_159" id="Footnote_159" href="#FnAnchor_159"><span class="fn">159</span></a> Llorente’s “Critical History of the Inquisition.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_160" id="Footnote_160" href="#FnAnchor_160"><span class="fn">160</span></a> Naudé, “Considérations Politiques,” p. 115. See a curious note in +Hart’s “Life of Gustavus Adolphus,” ii. 129.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page245" id="page245"></a>245</span></p> +<h3>TOLERATION.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">An</span> enlightened toleration is a blessing of the last age—it +would seem to have been practised by the Romans, when they +did not mistake the primitive Christians for seditious members +of society; and was inculcated even by Mahomet, in a passage +in the Koran, but scarcely practised by his followers. +In modern history it was condemned when religion was +turned into a political contest under the aspiring house of +Austria—and in Spain—and in France. It required a long +time before its nature was comprehended—and to this +moment it is far from being clear, either to the tolerators +or the tolerated.</p> + +<p>It does not appear that the precepts or the practice of +Jesus and the apostles inculcate the <i>compelling</i> of any to be +Christians;<a name="FnAnchor_161" id="FnAnchor_161" href="#Footnote_161"><span class="sp">161</span></a> yet an expression employed in the nuptial +parable of the great supper, when the hospitable lord commanded +the servant, finding that he had still room to accommodate +more guests, to go out in the highways and hedges, +and “<i>compel them to come in, that my house may be filled</i>,” +was alleged as an authority by those catholics who called +themselves “the converters,” for using religious force, which, +still alluding to the hospitable lord, they called “a charitable +and salutary violence.” It was this circumstance which produced +Bayle’s “Commentaire Philosophique sur ces Paroles +de Jesus Christ,” published under the supposititious name of +an <i>Englishman</i>, as printed at Canterbury in 1686, but really +at Amsterdam. It is curious that Locke published his first +letter on “Toleration” in Latin at Gouda, in 1689—the +second in 1690—and the third in 1692. Bayle opened the +mind of Locke, and some time after quotes Locke’s Latin +letter with high commendation.<a name="FnAnchor_162" id="FnAnchor_162" href="#Footnote_162"><span class="sp">162</span></a> The caution of both +writers in publishing in foreign places, however, indicates +the prudence which it was deemed necessary to observe in +writing in favour of toleration.</p> + +<p>These were the first <i>philosophical</i> attempts; but the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page246" id="page246"></a>246</span> +earliest advocates for toleration may be found among the +religious controversialists of a preceding period; it was +probably started among the fugitive sects who had found +an asylum in Holland. It was a blessing which they had +gone far to find, and the miserable, reduced to humane feelings, +are compassionate to one another. With us the sect +called “the Independents” had, early in our revolution +under Charles the First, pleaded for the doctrine of religious +liberty, and long maintained it against the presbyterians. +Both proved persecutors when they possessed power. The +first of our respectable divines who advocated this cause were +Jeremy Taylor, in his “Discourse on the Liberty of Prophesying,” +1647, and Bishop Hall, who had pleaded the cause +of <i>moderation</i> in a discourse about the same period.<a name="FnAnchor_163" id="FnAnchor_163" href="#Footnote_163"><span class="sp">163</span></a> Locke +had no doubt examined all these writers. The history of +opinions is among the most curious of histories; and I suspect +that Bayle was well acquainted with the pamphlets of +our sectarists, who, in their flight to Holland, conveyed +those curiosities of theology, which had cost them their +happiness and their estates: I think he indicates this hidden +source of his ideas by the extraordinary ascription of his +book to <i>an Englishman</i>, and fixing the place of its publication +at <i>Canterbury</i>!</p> + +<p>Toleration has been a vast engine in the hands of modern +politicians. It was established in the United Provinces of +Holland, and our numerous non-conformists took refuge in +that asylum for disturbed consciences; it attracted a valuable +community of French refugees; it conducted a colony of +Hebrew fugitives from Portugal; conventicles of Brownists, +quakers’ meetings, French churches, and Jewish synagogues, +and (had it been required) Mahometan mosques, in Amsterdam, +were the precursors of its mart, and its exchange; the +moment they could preserve their consciences sacred to themselves, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page247" id="page247"></a>247</span> +they lived without mutual persecution, and mixed +together as good Dutchmen.</p> + +<p>The excommunicated part of Europe seemed to be the +most enlightened, and it was then considered as a proof of +the admirable progress of the human mind, that Locke and +Clarke and Newton corresponded with Leibnitz, and others +of the learned in France and Italy. Some were astonished +that philosophers who differed in their <i>religious opinions</i> +should communicate among themselves with so much toleration.<a name="FnAnchor_164" id="FnAnchor_164" href="#Footnote_164"><span class="sp">164</span></a></p> + +<p>It is not, however, clear that had any one of these sects +at Amsterdam obtained predominance, which was sometimes +attempted, they would have granted to others the toleration +they participated in common. The infancy of a party is accompanied +by a political weakness which disables it from weakening +others.</p> + +<p>The catholic in this country pleads for toleration; in his +own he refuses to grant it. Here, the presbyterian, who had +complained of persecution, once fixed in the seat of power, +abrogated every kind of independence among others. When +the flames consumed Servetus at Geneva, the controversy +began, whether the civil magistrate might punish heretics, +which Beza, the associate of Calvin, maintained; he triumphed +in the small predestinating city of Geneva; but the book he +wrote was fatal to the protestants a few leagues distant, +among a majority of catholics. Whenever the protestants +complained of the persecutions they suffered, the catholics, +for authority and sanction, never failed to appeal to the volume +of their own Beza.</p> + +<p>M. Necker de Saussure has recently observed on “what +trivial circumstances the change or the preservation of the +established religion in different districts of Europe has depended!” +When the Reformation penetrated into Switzerland, +the government of the principality of Neufchatel, +wishing to allow liberty of conscience to all their subjects, +invited each parish to vote “for or against the adoption of +the new worship; and in all the parishes, except two, the +majority of suffrages declared in favour of the protestant +communion.” The inhabitants of the small village of +Cressier had also assembled; and forming an even number, +there happened to be an equality of votes for and against +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page248" id="page248"></a>248</span> +the change of religion. A shepherd being absent, tending +the flocks on the hills, they summoned him to appear and +decide this important question: when, having no liking to +innovation, he gave his voice in favour of the existing form +of worship; and this parish remained catholic, and is so at +this day, in the heart of the protestant cantons.</p> + +<p>I proceed to some facts which I have arranged for the history +of Toleration. In the Memoirs of James the Second, +when that monarch published “The Declaration for Liberty +of Conscience,” the catholic reasons and liberalises like a +modern philosopher: he accuses “the jealousy of our clergy, +who had degraded themselves into intriguers; and like mechanics +in a trade, who are afraid of nothing so much as +interlopers—they had therefore induced indifferent persons to +imagine that their earnest contest was not about their faith, +but about their temporal possessions. It was incongruous +that a church, which does not pretend to be infallible, should +constrain persons, under heavy penalties and punishments, to +believe as she does: they delighted, he asserted, to hold an +iron rod over dissenters and catholics; so sweet was dominion, +that the very thought of others participating in their +freedom made them deny the very doctrine they preached.” +The chief argument the catholic urged on this occasion was +“the reasonableness of repealing laws which made men liable +to the greatest punishments for that it was not in their power +to remedy, for that no man could force himself to believe +what he really did not believe.”<a name="FnAnchor_165" id="FnAnchor_165" href="#Footnote_165"><span class="sp">165</span></a></p> + +<p>Such was the rational language of the most bigoted of +zealots!—The fox can bleat like the lamb. At the very moment +James the Second was uttering this mild expostulation, +in his own heart he had anathematised the nation; for I have +seen some of the king’s private papers, which still exist; +they consist of communications, chiefly by the most bigoted +priests, with the wildest projects, and most infatuated prophecies +and dreams, of restoring the true catholic faith in +England! Had the Jesuit-led monarch retained the English +throne, the language he now addressed to the nation would +have been no longer used; and in that case it would have +served his protestant subjects. He asked for toleration, to become +intolerant! He devoted himself, not to the hundredth +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page249" id="page249"></a>249</span> +part of the English nation; and yet he was surprised that he +was left one morning without an army! When the catholic +monarch issued this declaration for “liberty of conscience,” +the Jekyll of his day observed, that “it was but scaffolding: +they intend to build another house, and when that house +(Popery) is built, they will take down the scaffold.”<a name="FnAnchor_166" id="FnAnchor_166" href="#Footnote_166"><span class="sp">166</span></a></p> + +<p>When presbytery was our lord, they who had endured the +tortures of persecution, and raised such sharp outcries for +freedom, of all men were the most intolerant: hardly had +they tasted of the Circean cup of dominion, ere they were +transformed into the most hideous or the most grotesque +monsters of political power. To their eyes toleration was an +hydra, and the dethroned bishops had never so vehemently +declaimed against what, in ludicrous rage, one of the high-flying +presbyterians called “a cursed intolerable toleration!” +They advocated the rights of persecution; and “shallow +Edwards,” as Milton calls the author of “The Gangræna,” +published a treatise <i>against toleration</i>. They who had so +long complained of “the licensers,” now sent all the books +they condemned to penal fires. Prynne now vindicated the +very doctrines under which he himself had so severely suffered; +assuming the highest possible power of civil government, +even to the infliction of death on its opponents. Prynne +lost all feeling for the ears of others!</p> + +<p>The idea of toleration was not intelligible for too long a +period in the annals of Europe: no parties probably could +conceive the idea of toleration in the struggle for predominance. +Treaties are not proffered when conquest is the +concealed object. Men were immolated! a massacre was a +sacrifice! medals were struck to commemorate these holy persecutions!<a name="FnAnchor_167" id="FnAnchor_167" href="#Footnote_167"><span class="sp">167</span></a> +The destroying angel, holding in one hand a +cross, and in the other a sword, with these words—<i>Vgonottorum +Strages</i>, 1572—“The massacre of the Huguenots”—proves +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page250" id="page250"></a>250</span> +that toleration will not agree with that date.<a name="FnAnchor_168" id="FnAnchor_168" href="#Footnote_168"><span class="sp">168</span></a> Castelnau, +a statesman and a humane man, was at a loss how to +decide on a point of the utmost importance to France. In +1532 they first began to burn the Lutherans or Calvinists, +and to cut out the tongues of all protestants, “that they +might no longer protest.” According to Father Paul, fifty +thousand persons had perished in the Netherlands, by different +tortures, for religion. But a change in the religion of +the state, Castelnau considered, would occasion one in the +government: he wondered how it happened, that the more +they punished with death, it only increased the number of the +victims: martyrs produced proselytes. As a statesman, he +looked round the great field of human actions in the history +of the past; there he discovered that the Romans were more +enlightened in their actions than ourselves; that Trajan commanded +Pliny the younger not to molest the Christians for +their <i>religion</i>, but should their conduct endanger the state, +to put down <i>illegal assemblies</i>; that Julian the Apostate expressly +forbad the <i>execution</i> of the Christians, who then imagined +that they were securing their salvation by martyrdom; +but he ordered all their goods to be <i>confiscated</i>—a severe punishment—by +which Julian prevented more than he could have +done by persecutions. “All this,” he adds, “we read in ecclesiastical +history.”<a name="FnAnchor_169" id="FnAnchor_169" href="#Footnote_169"><span class="sp">169</span></a> Such were the sentiments of Castelnau, +in 1560. Amidst perplexities of state necessity, and of our +common humanity, the notion of <i>toleration</i> had not entered +into the views of the statesman. It was also at this time +that De Sainctes, a great controversial writer, declared, that +had the fires lighted for the destruction of Calvinism not +been extinguished, the sect had not spread! About half a +century subsequent to this period, Thuanus was, perhaps, the +first great mind who appears to have insinuated to the French +monarch and his nation, that they might live at peace with +heretics; by which avowal he called down on himself the +haughty indignation of Rome, and a declaration that the +man who spoke in favour of heretics must necessarily be one +of the first class. Hear the afflicted historian: “Have men +no compassion, after forty years passed full of continual +miseries? Have they no fear after the loss of the Netherlands, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page251" id="page251"></a>251</span> +occasioned by the frantic obstinacy which marked the +times? I grieve that such sentiments should have occasioned +my book to have been examined with a rigour that amounts +to calumny.” Such was the language of Thuanus, in a letter +written in 1606;<a name="FnAnchor_170" id="FnAnchor_170" href="#Footnote_170"><span class="sp">170</span></a> which indicates an approximation to <i>toleration</i>, +but which term was not probably yet found in any +dictionary. We may consider, as so many attempts at toleration, +the great national synod of Dort, whose history is +amply written by Brandt; and the mitigating protestantism of +Laud, to approximate to the ceremonies of the Roman church; +but the synod, after holding about two hundred sessions, +closed, dividing men into universalists and semi-universalists, +supralapsarians and sublapsarians! The <i>reformed</i> themselves +produced the <i>remonstrants</i>; and Laud’s ceremonies ended in +placing the altar eastward, and in raising the scaffold for the +monarchy and the hierarchy. Error is circuitous when it +will do what it has not yet learnt. They were pressing for +conformity to do that which, a century afterwards, they found +could only be done by <i>toleration</i>.</p> + +<p>The <i>secret history of toleration</i> among certain parties has +been disclosed to us by a curious document, from that religious +Machiavel, the fierce ascetic republican John Knox, a +calvinistical Pope. “While the posterity of Abraham,” says +that mighty and artful reformer, “were <i>few in number</i>, and +while they sojourned in <i>different countries</i>, they were merely +required to avoid all participation in the idolatrous rites of +the heathen; but <i>as soon as they prospered into a kingdom</i>, +and had obtained <i>possession of Canaan</i>, they were strictly +charged to suppress idolatry, and to destroy all the monuments +and incentives. The same duty was <i>now</i> incumbent +on the professors of the true religion in Scotland. Formerly, +when not more than <i>ten persons in a county</i> were enlightened, +it would have been <i>foolishness</i> to have demanded of the +nobility the suppression of idolatry. But <i>now</i>, when knowledge +had been increased,” &c.<a name="FnAnchor_171" id="FnAnchor_171" href="#Footnote_171"><span class="sp">171</span></a> Such are the men who cry +out for toleration during their state of political weakness, but +who cancel the bond by which they hold their tenure whenever +they “obtain possession of Canaan.” The only commentary +on this piece of the secret history of <i>toleration</i> is +the acute remark of Swift:—“We are fully convinced that we +shall always tolerate them, but not that they will tolerate us.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page252" id="page252"></a>252</span></p> + +<p>The truth is that <span class="sc">toleration</span> was allowed by none of the +parties! and I will now show the dilemmas into which each +party thrust itself.</p> + +<p>When the kings of England would forcibly have established +episcopacy in Scotland, the presbyters passed an act <i>against +the toleration of dissenters from presbyterian doctrines and +discipline</i>; and thus, as Guthrie observes, they were committing +the same violence on the consciences of their brethren +which they opposed in the king. The presbyterians contrived +their famous <i>covenant</i> to dispossess the royalists of their +livings; and the independents, who assumed the principle of +toleration in their very name, shortly after enforced what +they called the <i>engagement</i>, to eject the presbyterians! In +England, where the dissenters were ejected, their great advocate +Calamy complains that the dissenters were only making +use of the same arguments which the most eminent reformers +had done in their noble defence of the reformation against the +papists; while the arguments of the established church against +the dissenters were the same which were urged by the papists +against the protestant reformation!<a name="FnAnchor_172" id="FnAnchor_172" href="#Footnote_172"><span class="sp">172</span></a> When the presbyterians +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page253" id="page253"></a>253</span> +were our masters, and preached up the doctrine of passive +obedience in spiritual matters to the civil power, it was +unquestionably passing a self-condemnation on their own +recent opposition and detraction of the former episcopacy. +Whenever men act from a secret motive entirely contrary to +their ostensible one, such monstrous results will happen; and +as extremes will join, however opposite they appear in their +beginnings, John Knox and Father Petre, in office, would +have equally served James the Second as confessor and prime +minister!</p> + +<p>A fact relating to the famous Justus Lipsius proves the +difficulty of forming a clear notion of <span class="sc">toleration</span>. This +learned man, after having been ruined by the religious wars +of the Netherlands, found an honourable retreat in a professor’s +chair at Leyden, and without difficulty abjured papacy. +He published some political works: and adopted as his great +principle, that only <i>one religion</i> should be allowed to a people, +and that no clemency should be granted to non-conformists, +who, he declares, should be pursued by sword and fire: in this +manner a single member would be cut off to preserve the +body sound. <i>Ure, seca</i>—are his words. Strange notions +these in a protestant republic; and, in fact, in Holland it was +approving of all the horrors of their oppressors, the Duke +d’Alva and Philip the Second, from which they had hardly +recovered.<a name="FnAnchor_173" id="FnAnchor_173" href="#Footnote_173"><span class="sp">173</span></a> It was a principle by which we must inevitably +infer, says Bayle, that in Holland no other mode of religious +belief but one sect should be permitted; and that those +Pagans who had hanged the missionaries of the gospel had +done what they ought. Lipsius found himself sadly embarrassed +when refuted by Theodore Cornhert,<a name="FnAnchor_174" id="FnAnchor_174" href="#Footnote_174"><span class="sp">174</span></a> the firm advocate +of political and religious freedom, and at length Lipsius, +that protestant with a catholic heart, was forced to eat his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page254" id="page254"></a>254</span> +words, like Pistol his onion, declaring that the two objectionable +words, <i>ure</i>, <i>seca</i>, were borrowed from medicine, meaning +not literally <i>fire</i> and <i>sword</i>, but a strong efficacious remedy, +one of those powerful medicines to expel poison. Jean de +Serres, a warm Huguenot, carried the principle of <span class="sc">toleration</span> +so far in his “Inventaire générale de l’Histoire de France,” +as to blame Charles Martel for compelling the Frisans, whom +he had conquered, to adopt Christianity! “A pardonable +zeal,” he observes, “in a warrior; but in fact the minds of +men cannot be gained over by arms, nor that religion +forced upon them, which must be introduced into the hearts +of men by reason.” It is curious to see a protestant, in his +zeal for toleration, blaming a king for forcing idolaters to become +Christians; and to have found an opportunity to express +his opinions in the dark history of the eighth century, +is an instance how historians incorporate their passions in +their works, and view ancient facts with modern eyes.</p> + +<p>The protestant cannot grant toleration to the catholic, +unless the catholic ceases to be a papist; and the Arminian +church, which opened its wide bosom to receive every denomination +of Christians, nevertheless were forced to exclude +the papists, for their passive obedience to the supremacy of +the Roman pontiff. The catholic has curiously told us, on +this word <i>toleration</i>, that <i>Ce mot devient fort en usage à +mesure que le nombre des tolérans augmente</i>.<a name="FnAnchor_175" id="FnAnchor_175" href="#Footnote_175"><span class="sp">175</span></a> It was a word +which seemed of recent introduction, though the book is +modern! The protestants have disputed much how far they +might tolerate, or whether they should tolerate at all; “a +difficulty,” triumphantly exclaims the catholic, “which they +are not likely ever to settle, while they maintain their principles +of pretended reformation; the consequences which naturally +follow excite horror to the Christian. It is the weak who +raise such outcries for toleration; the strong find authority +legitimate.”</p> + +<p>A religion which admits not of <i>toleration</i> cannot be safely +tolerated, if there is any chance of its obtaining a political +ascendancy.</p> + +<p>When Priscillian and six of his followers were condemned +to torture and execution for asserting that the three persons +of the Trinity were to be considered as three different <i>acceptions</i> +of the same being, Saint Ambrose and Saint Martin +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page255" id="page255"></a>255</span> +asserted the cause of offended humanity, and refused to communicate +with the bishops who had called out for the blood +of the Priscillianists; but Cardinal Baronius, the annalist of +the church, was greatly embarrassed to explain how men of +real purity could abstain from <i>applauding</i> the ardent zeal of +the <i>persecution</i>: he preferred to give up the saints rather +than to allow of toleration—for he acknowledges that the +toleration which these saints would have allowed was not +exempt from sin.<a name="FnAnchor_176" id="FnAnchor_176" href="#Footnote_176"><span class="sp">176</span></a></p> + +<p>In the preceding article, “Political Religionism,” we have +shown how to provide against the possible evil of the <i>tolerated</i> +becoming the <i>tolerators</i>! Toleration has been suspected of +indifference to religion itself; but with sound minds, it is +only an indifference to the logomachies of theology—things +“not of God, but of man,” that have perished, and that are +perishing around us!</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_161" id="Footnote_161" href="#FnAnchor_161"><span class="fn">161</span></a> Bishop Barlow’s “Several Miscellaneous and Weighty Cases of Conscience +Resolved,” 1692. His “Case of a Toleration in Matters of Religion,” +addressed to Robert Boyle, p. 39. This volume was not intended +to have been given to the world, a circumstance which does not make it +the less curious.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_162" id="Footnote_162" href="#FnAnchor_162"><span class="fn">162</span></a> In the article <i>Sancterius</i>. Note F.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_163" id="Footnote_163" href="#FnAnchor_163"><span class="fn">163</span></a> Recent writers among our sectarists assert that Dr. Owen was the <i>first</i> +who wrote in favour of toleration, in 1648! Another claims the honour +for John Goodwin, the chaplain of Oliver Cromwell, who published one of +his obscure polemical tracts in 1644, among a number of other persons +who, at that crisis, did not venture to prefix their names to pleas in favour +of toleration, so delicate and so obscure did this subject then appear! In +1651, they translated the liberal treatise of Grotius, <i>De Imperio Summarum +Potestatum circa Sacra</i>, under the title of “The Authority of the +Highest Powers about Sacred Things.” London, 8vo, 1651. To the +honour of Grotius, the first of philosophical reformers, be it recorded, that +he displeased both parties!</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_164" id="Footnote_164" href="#FnAnchor_164"><span class="fn">164</span></a> J. P. Rabaut, “sur la Revolution Française,” p. 27.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_165" id="Footnote_165" href="#FnAnchor_165"><span class="fn">165</span></a> “Life of James the Second, from his own Papers,” ii 114.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_166" id="Footnote_166" href="#FnAnchor_166"><span class="fn">166</span></a> This was a Baron Wallop. From Dr. H. Sampson’s Manuscript Diary.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_167" id="Footnote_167" href="#FnAnchor_167"><span class="fn">167</span></a> It is curious to observe that the catholics were afterwards ashamed of +these indiscretions; they were unwilling to own that there were any medals +which commemorate massacres. Thuanus, in his 53rd book, has minutely +described them. The medals, however, have become excessively scarce; +but copies inferior to the originals have been sold. They had also pictures +on similar subjects, accompanied by insulting inscriptions, which latter +they have effaced, sometimes very imperfectly. See Hollis’s “Memoirs,” +p. 312-14. This enthusiast advertised in the papers to request travellers +to procure them.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_168" id="Footnote_168" href="#FnAnchor_168"><span class="fn">168</span></a> The <i>Sala Regia</i> of the Vatican has still upon its walls a painting by +Vasari of this massacre, among the other important events in the history +of the Popes similarly commemorated.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_169" id="Footnote_169" href="#FnAnchor_169"><span class="fn">169</span></a> “Mémoires de Michel de Castelnau,” liv. i. c. 4.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_170" id="Footnote_170" href="#FnAnchor_170"><span class="fn">170</span></a> “Life of Thuanus, by the Rev. J. Collinson,” p. 115.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_171" id="Footnote_171" href="#FnAnchor_171"><span class="fn">171</span></a> Dr. M’Crie’s “Life of John Knox,” ii. 122.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_172" id="Footnote_172" href="#FnAnchor_172"><span class="fn">172</span></a> I quote from an unpublished letter, written so late as in 1749, addressed +to the author of “The Free and Candid Disquisition,” by the Rev. +Thomas Allen, rector of Kettering, Northamptonshire. However extravagant +his doctrine appears to us, I suspect that it exhibits the concealed +sentiments of even some protestant churchmen! This rector of Kettering +attributes the growth of schism to the <i>negligence</i> of the clergy, and seems +to have persecuted both the archbishops, “to his detriment,” as he tells +us, with singular plans of reform borrowed from monastic institutions. +He wished to revive the practice inculcated by a canon of the counsel +of Laodicea of having prayers <i>ad horam nonam et ad vesperam</i>—prayers +twice a day in the churches. But his grand project take in his own +words:—</p> + +<p>“I let the archbishop know that I had composed an <i>irenicon</i>, wherein +I prove the necessity of an ecclesiastical <i>power over consciences</i> in matters +of religion, which utterly silences their arguments who <i>plead so hard for +toleration</i>. I took my scheme from ‘A Discourse of Ecclesiastical Polity,’ +wherein the authority of the civil magistrate over the consciences of subjects +in matters of external religion is asserted; <i>the mischiefs and inconveniences +of toleration</i> are represented, and all pretences pleaded in behalf +of <i>liberty of conscience</i> are fully answered. If this book were reprinted +and considered, the king would know his power and the people +their duty.”</p> + +<p>The rector of Kettering seems not to have known that the author of this +“Discourse on Ecclesiastical Polity” was the notorious Parker, immortalised +by the satire of Marvell. This political apostate, from a republican +and presbyterian, became a furious advocate for <i>arbitrary government</i> in +church and state! He easily won the favour of James the Second, who +made him Bishop of Oxford! His principles were so violent that Father +Petre, the confessor of James, made sure of him! This letter of the +rector of Kettering, in adopting the system of such a <i>catholic</i> bishop, +confirms my suspicion that <i>toleration</i> is condemned as an evil among some +protestants!</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_173" id="Footnote_173" href="#FnAnchor_173"><span class="fn">173</span></a> The cruelties practised by the Protestant against the Catholic party +are pictured and described in Arnoudt Van Geluwe’s book, “Over de Ontledinghe +van dry verscheyden Niew-Ghereformeerde Martelaers Boecken,” +published at Antwerp in 1656.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_174" id="Footnote_174" href="#FnAnchor_174"><span class="fn">174</span></a> Cornhert was one of the fathers of Dutch literature, and even of their +arts. He was the composer of the great national air of William of Orange; +he was too a famous engraver, the master of Goltzius. On his death-bed +he was still writing against the <i>persecution of heretics</i>.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_175" id="Footnote_175" href="#FnAnchor_175"><span class="fn">175</span></a> “Dictionnaire de Trevoux,” <i>ad vocem</i> Tolerance. Printed in 1771.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_176" id="Footnote_176" href="#FnAnchor_176"><span class="fn">176</span></a> Sismondi, “Hist. des Français,” i. 41. The character of the <i>first +person</i> who introduced <i>civil</i> persecution into the Christian church has been +described by Sulpicius Severus. See Dr. Maclaine’s note in his translation +of Mosheim’s “Ecclesiastical History,” vol. i. 428.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>APOLOGY FOR THE PARISIAN MASSACRE.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">An</span> original document now lying before me, the autograph +letter of Charles the Ninth, will prove, that the unparalleled +massacre, called by the world <i>religious</i>, was, in the French +cabinet, considered merely as <i>political</i>; one of those revolting +state expedients which a pretended instant necessity has too +often inflicted on that part of a nation which, like the undercurrent, +subterraneously works its way, and runs counter to +the great stream, till the critical moment arrives when one or +the other must cease.</p> + +<p>The massacre began on St. Bartholomew day, in August, +1572, lasted in France during seven days: that awful event +interrupted the correspondence of our court with that of +France. A long silence ensued; the one did not dare to tell +the tale which the other could not listen to. But sovereigns +know how to convert a mere domestic event into a political +expedient. Charles the Ninth, on the birth of a daughter, +sent over an ambassador extraordinary to request Elizabeth +to stand as sponsor: by this the French monarch obtained a +double purpose; it served to renew his interrupted intercourse +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page256" id="page256"></a>256</span> +with the silent queen, and alarmed the French protestants +by abating their hopes, which long rested on the aid of +the English queen.</p> + +<p>The following letter, dated 8th February, 1573, is addressed +by the king to La Motte Fénélon, his resident ambassador +at London. The king in this letter minutely details +a confidential intercourse with his mother, Catharine of Medicis, +who, perhaps, may have dictated this letter to the +secretary, although signed by the king with his own hand.<a name="FnAnchor_177" id="FnAnchor_177" href="#Footnote_177"><span class="sp">177</span></a> +Such minute particulars could only have been known to herself. +The Earl of <i>Wolchester</i> (Worcester) was now taking +his departure, having come to Paris on the baptism of the +princess; and accompanied by Walsingham, our resident +ambassador, after taking leave of Charles, had the following +interview with Catharine de Medicis. An interview with +the young monarch was usually concluded by a separate +audience with his mother, who probably was still the directress +of his councils.</p> + +<p>The French court now renewed their favourite project of +marrying the Duke d’Alençon with Elizabeth. They had +long wished to settle this turbulent spirit, and the negotiation +with Elizabeth had been broken off in consequence of +the massacre at Paris. They were somewhat uneasy lest he +should share the fate of his brother, the Duke of Anjou, who +had not long before been expedited on the same fruitless +errand; and Elizabeth had already objected to the disparity +of their ages, the Duke of Alençon, being only seventeen, +and the maiden queen six-and-thirty; but Catharine observed +that Alençon was only one year younger than his +brother, against whom this objection had not occurred to +Elizabeth, for he had been sent back upon another pretext—some +difficulty which the queen had contrived about his performing +mass in his own house.</p> + +<p>After Catharine de Medicis had assured the Earl of Worcester +of her great affection for the Queen of England, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page257" id="page257"></a>257</span> +her and the king’s strict intention to preserve it, and that +they were therefore desirous of this proposed marriage +taking place, she took this opportunity of inquiring of the +Earl of Worcester the cause of the queen his mistress’s +marked <i>coolness toward them</i>. The narrative becomes now +dramatic.</p> + +<p>“On this Walsingham, who kept always close by the side +of the count, here took on himself to answer, acknowledging +that the said count had indeed been charged to speak on this +head; and he then addressed some words in English to +Worcester. And afterwards the count gave to my lady and +mother to understand, that the queen his mistress had been +waiting for an answer on two articles; the one concerning +religion, and the other for an interview. My lady and +mother instantly replied, that she had never heard any articles +mentioned, on which she would not have immediately +satisfied the Sieur Walsingham, who then took up the word; +first observing that the count was not accustomed to business +of this nature, but that he himself knew for certain that the +cause of this negotiation for marriage not being more advanced, +was really these two unsettled points: that his mistress +still wished that the point of religion should be cleared +up; for that they concluded in England that this business +was designed only to amuse and never to be completed (as +happened in that of my brother the Duke of Anjou); and +the other point concerned the interview between my brother +the Duke of Alençon; because some letters which may have +been written between the parties<a name="FnAnchor_178" id="FnAnchor_178" href="#Footnote_178"><span class="sp">178</span></a> in such sort of matters, +could not have the same force which the sight and presence +of both the persons would undoubtedly have. But, he +added, <i>another thing, which had also greatly retarded this +business, was what had happened lately in this kingdom</i>; and +during such troubles, proceeding from religion, it could not +have been well timed to have spoken with them concerning +the said marriage; and that himself and those of his nation +had been in great fear in this kingdom, thinking that we intended +to extirpate all those of the said religion. On this, +my lady and mother answered him instantly and in order: +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page258" id="page258"></a>258</span> +That she was certain that the queen his mistress could never +like nor value a prince who had not his religion at heart; +and whoever would desire to have this otherwise, would be +depriving him of what we hold dearest in this world; That +he might recollect that my brother had always insisted on +the freedom of religion, and that it was from the difficulty of +its public exercise, which he always insisted on, which had +broken off this negotiation: the Duke d’Alençon will be +satisfied when this point is agreed on, and will hasten over to +the queen, persuaded that she will not occasion him the pain +and the shame of passing over the seas without happily terminating +this affair. In regard to <i>what has occurred these +latter days</i>, that he must have seen how it happened by the +fault of the chiefs of those who remained here; for when the +late admiral was treacherously wounded at Nôtre Dame, he +knew the affliction it threw us into (fearful that it might +have occasioned great troubles in this kingdom), and the +diligence we used to verify judicially whence it proceeded; +and the verification was nearly finished, when they were so +forgetful, as to raise a conspiracy, to attempt the lives of +myself, my lady and mother, and my brothers, and endanger +the whole state; which was the cause, that to avoid this, I +was compelled, to my very great regret, to permit what had +happened in this city; but as he had witnessed, I gave orders +to stop, as soon as possible, this fury of the people, and place +every one in repose. On this, the Sieur Walsingham replied +to my lady and mother, that the exercise of the said religion +had been interdicted in this kingdom. To which she also +answered, that this had not been done but for a good and +holy purpose; namely, that the fury of the catholic people +might the sooner be allayed, who else had been reminded of +the past calamities, and would again have been let loose +against those of the said religion, had they continued to +preach in this kingdom. Also should these once more fix on +any chiefs, which I will prevent as much as possible, giving +him clearly and pointedly to understand, that what is done +here is much the same as what has been done, and is now +practised by the queen his mistress in her kingdom. For she +permits the exercise but of one religion, although there are +many of her people who are of another; and having also, +during her reign, punished those of her subjects whom she +found seditious and rebellious. It is true this has been done +by the laws, but I indeed could not act in the same manner; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page259" id="page259"></a>259</span> +for finding myself in such imminent peril, and the conspiracy +raised against me and mine, and my kingdom, ready to be +executed, I had no time to arraign and try in open justice as +much as I wished, but was constrained, to my very great regret, +to strike the blow (lascher le main) in what has been +done in this city.”</p> + +<p>This letter of Charles the Ninth, however, does not here +conclude. “My lady and mother” plainly acquaints the +Earl of Worcester and Sir Francis Walsingham, that her son +had never interfered between their mistress and her subjects, +and in return expects the same favour; although, by accounts +they had received from England, many ships were arming to +assist their rebels at Rochelle. “My lady and mother” advances +another step, and declares that Elizabeth by treaty is +bound to assist her son against his rebellious subjects; and +they expect, at least, that Elizabeth will not only stop these +armaments in all her ports, but exemplarily punish the +offenders. I resume the letter.</p> + +<p>“And on hearing this, the said Walsingham changed +colour, and appeared somewhat astonished, as my lady and +mother well perceived by his face; and on this he requested +the Count of Worcester to mention the order which he knew +the queen his mistress had issued to prevent these people +from assisting those of La Rochelle; but that in England, so +numerous were the seamen and others who gained their livelihood +by maritime affairs, and who would starve without the +entire freedom of the seas, that it was impossible to interdict +them.”</p> + +<p>Charles the Ninth encloses the copy of a letter he had +received from London, in part agreeing with an account the +ambassador had sent to the king, of an English expedition +nearly ready to sail for La Rochelle, to assist his rebellious +subjects. He is still further alarmed, that Elizabeth foments +the <i>wartegeux</i>, and assists underhand the discontented. He +urges the ambassador to hasten to the queen, to impart these +complaints in the most friendly way, as he knows the ambassador +can well do, and as, no doubt, Walsingham will have +already prepared her to receive. Charles entreats Elizabeth +to prove her good faith by deeds and not by words; to act +openly on a point which admits of no dissimulation. The +best proof of her friendship will be the marriage; and the +ambassador, after opening this business to her chief ministers, +who the king thinks are desirous of this projected marriage, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page260" id="page260"></a>260</span> +is then “to acquaint the queen with what has passed between +her ambassadors and myself.”</p> + +<p>Such is the first letter on English affairs which Charles +the Ninth despatched to his ambassador, after an awful +silence of six months, during which time La Motte Fénélon +was not admitted into the presence of Elizabeth. The +apology for the massacre of St. Bartholomew comes from the +king himself, and contains several remarkable expressions, +which are at least divested of that style of bigotry and +exultation we might have expected: on the contrary, this +sanguinary and inconsiderate young monarch, as he is represented, +writes in a subdued and sorrowing tone, lamenting his +hard necessity, regretting he could not have recourse to the +laws, and appealing to others for his efforts to check the fury +of the people, which he himself had let loose. Catharine de +Medicis, who had governed him from the tender age of eleven +years, when he ascended the throne, might unquestionably +have persuaded him that a conspiracy was on the point of explosion. +Charles the Ninth died young, and his character is +unfavourably viewed by the historians. In the voluminous +correspondence which I have examined, could we judge by +state letters of the character of him who subscribes them, we +must form a very different notion; they are so prolix, and so +earnest, that one might conceive they were dictated by the +young monarch himself!</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_177" id="Footnote_177" href="#FnAnchor_177"><span class="fn">177</span></a> All the numerous letters which I have seen of Charles the Ninth, now +in the possession of Mr. Murray, are carefully signed by himself, and I +have also observed <i>postscripts</i> written with his own hand: they are always +countersigned by his secretary. I mention this circumstance, because, in +the <i>Dictionnaire Historique</i>, it is said that Charles, who died young, was +so given up to the amusements of his age, that he would not even sign his +despatches, and introduced the custom of secretaries subscribing for the +king. This voluminous correspondence shows the falsity of this statement. +History is too often composed of popular tales of this stamp.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_178" id="Footnote_178" href="#FnAnchor_178"><span class="fn">178</span></a> These <i>love-letters</i> of Alençon to our Elizabeth are noticed by Camden, +who observes, that the queen became wearied by receiving so many; and +to put an end to this trouble, she consented that the young duke should +come over, conditionally, that he should not be offended if her suitor should +return home suitless.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>PREDICTION.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">In</span> a curious treatise on “Divination,” or the knowledge +of future events, Cicero has preserved a complete account of +the state-contrivances which were practised by the Roman +government to instil among the people those hopes and fears +by which they regulated public opinion. The pagan creed, +now become obsolete and ridiculous, has occasioned this +treatise to be rarely consulted; it remains, however, as a +chapter in the history of man!</p> + +<p>To these two books of Cicero on “Divination,” perhaps a +third might be added, on <span class="sc">political</span> and <span class="sc">moral prediction</span>. +The principles which may even raise it into a science are self-evident; +they are drawn from the heart of man, and they +depend on the nature and connexion of human events! We +presume we shall demonstrate the positive existence of such +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page261" id="page261"></a>261</span> +a faculty; a faculty which Lord Bacon describes of “making +things <span class="sc">future</span> and <span class="sc">remote as present</span>.” The aruspex, the +augur, and the astrologer have vanished with their own +superstitions; but the moral and the political predictor, proceeding +on principles authorised by nature and experience, +has become more skilful in his observations on the phenomena +of human history; and it has often happened that a tolerable +philosopher has not made an indifferent prophet.</p> + +<p>No great political or moral revolution has occurred which +has not been accompanied by its <i>prognostic</i>; and men of a +philosophic cast of mind in their retirement, freed from the +delusions of parties and of sects, at once intelligent in the +<i>quicquid agunt homines</i>, while they are withdrawn from their +conflicting interests, have rarely been confounded by the +astonishment which overwhelms those who, absorbed in +active life, are the mere creatures of sensation, agitated by +the shadows of truth, the unsubstantial appearances of things! +Intellectual nations are advancing in an eternal circle of +events and passions which succeed each other, and the last is +necessarily connected with its antecedent; the solitary force +of some fortuitous incident only can interrupt this concatenated +progress of human affairs.</p> + +<p>That every great event has been accompanied by a presage +or prognostic, has been observed by Lord Bacon. “The +shepherds of the people should understand the <i>prognostics of +state tempests</i>; hollow blasts of wind seemingly at a distance, +and secret swellings of the sea, often precede a storm.” Such +were the prognostics discerned by the politic Bishop Williams +in Charles the First’s time, who clearly foresaw and predicted +the final success of the Puritanic party in our country: +attentive to his own security, he abandoned the government +and sided with the rising opposition, at the moment when +such a change in public affairs was by no means apparent.<a name="FnAnchor_179" id="FnAnchor_179" href="#Footnote_179"><span class="sp">179</span></a></p> + +<p>In this spirit of foresight our contemplative antiquary +Dugdale must have anticipated the scene which was approaching +in 1641, in the destruction of our ancient monuments +in cathedral churches. He hurried on his itinerant +labours of taking draughts and transcribing inscriptions, as +he says, “to preserve them for future and better times.” +Posterity owes to the prescient spirit of Dugdale the ancient +Monuments of England, which bear the marks of the haste, +as well as the zeal, which have perpetuated them.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page262" id="page262"></a>262</span></p> + +<p>Continental writers formerly employed a fortunate expression, +when they wished to have an <i>Historia Reformationis +ante Reformationem</i>: this history of the Reformation would +have commenced at least a century before the Reformation +itself! A letter from Cardinal Julian to Pope Eugenius the +Fourth, written a century before Luther appeared, clearly +predicts the Reformation and its consequences. He observed +that the minds of men were ripe for something tragical; he +felt the axe striking at the root, and the tree beginning to +bend, and that his party, instead of propping it, were hastening +its fall.<a name="FnAnchor_180" id="FnAnchor_180" href="#Footnote_180"><span class="sp">180</span></a> In England, Sir Thomas More was not less +prescient in his views; for when his son Roper was observing +to him that the Catholic religion, under “the Defender of +the Faith,” was in a most flourishing state, the answer of +More was an evidence of political foresight—“Truth, it is, +son Roper! and yet I pray God that we may not live to see +the day that we would gladly be at league and composition +with heretics, to let them have their churches quietly to +themselves, so that they would be contented to let us have +ours quietly to ourselves.” Whether our great chancellor +predicted from a more intimate knowledge of the king’s character, +or from some private circumstances which may not +have been recorded for our information, of which I have an +obscure suspicion, remains to be ascertained. The minds of +men of great political sagacity were unquestionably at that +moment full of obscure indications of the approaching change; +Erasmus, when at Canterbury before the tomb of Becket, +observing it loaded with a vast profusion of jewels, wished +that those had been distributed among the poor, and that +the shrine had been only adorned with boughs and flowers; +“For,” said he, “those who have heaped up all this mass of +treasure will one day be plundered, and fall a prey to those +who are in power;”—a prediction literally fulfilled about +twenty years after it was made. The unknown author of the +Visions of Piers Ploughman, who wrote in the reign of +Edward the Third,<a name="FnAnchor_181" id="FnAnchor_181" href="#Footnote_181"><span class="sp">181</span></a> surprised the world by a famous prediction +of <i>the fall of the religious houses from the hand of a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page263" id="page263"></a>263</span> +king</i>.<a name="FnAnchor_182" id="FnAnchor_182" href="#Footnote_182"><span class="sp">182</span></a> The event was realised, two hundred years afterwards, +by our Henry the Eighth. The protestant writers have not +scrupled to declare that in this instance he was <i>divino +numine afflatus</i>. But moral and political prediction is not inspiration; +the one may be wrought out by man, the other +descends from God. The same principle which led Erasmus +to predict that those who were “in power” would destroy +the rich shrines, because no other class of men in society +could mate with so mighty a body as the monks, conducted +the author of Piers Ploughman to the same conclusion; and +since power only could accomplish that great purpose, he +fixed on the highest as the most likely; and thus the wise +prediction was, so long after, literally accomplished!</p> + +<p>Sir Walter Rawleigh foresaw the future consequences of +the separatists and the sectaries in the national church, and +the very scene his imagination raised in 1530 has been +exhibited, to the letter of his description, two centuries after +the prediction! His memorable words are—“Time will even +bring it to pass, if it were not resisted, that God would be +<i>turned out of churches</i> into <i>barns</i>, and from thence again +into the <i>fields</i> and <i>mountains</i>, and under <i>hedges</i>—all order +of discipline and church government left to <i>newness of +opinion</i> and men’s fancies, and <i>as many kinds of religion</i> +spring up as there are parish churches within England.” +We are struck by the profound genius of Tacitus, who +clearly foresaw the calamities which so long ravaged Europe +on the fall of the Roman Empire, in a work written five +hundred years before the event! In that sublime anticipation +of the future, he observed—“When the Romans shall +be hunted out from those countries which they have conquered, +what will then happen? The revolted people, freed +from their master oppressor, will not be able to subsist without +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page264" id="page264"></a>264</span> +destroying their neighbours, and the most cruel wars +will exist among all these nations.”</p> + +<p>We are told that Solon at Athens, contemplating on the +port and citadel of Munychia, suddenly exclaimed, “How +blind is man to futurity! Could the Athenians foresee what +mischief this will do their city, they would even eat it with +their own teeth to get rid of it!”—a prediction verified +more than two hundred years afterwards! Thales desired to +be buried in an obscure quarter of Milesia, observing that +that very spot would in time be the forum. Charlemagne, +in his old age, observing from the window of a castle a +Norman descent on his coast, tears started in the eyes of +the aged monarch. He predicted that since they dared to +threaten his dominions while he was yet living, what would +they do when he should be no more!—a melancholy prediction, +says De Foix, of their subsequent incursions, and of the +protracted calamities of the French nation during a whole +century!</p> + +<p>There seems to be something in minds which take in +extensive views of human nature which serves them as a +kind of divination, and the consciousness of this faculty has +even been asserted by some. Cicero appeals to Atticus how +he had always judged of the affairs of the republic as a good +diviner; and that its overthrow had happened as he had +foreseen fourteen years before.<a name="FnAnchor_183" id="FnAnchor_183" href="#Footnote_183"><span class="sp">183</span></a> Cicero had not only predicted +what happened in his own times, but also what +occurred long after, according to the testimony of Cornelius +Nepos. The philosopher, indeed, affects no secret revelation, +nor visionary second-sight; he honestly tells us that this art +had been acquired merely by study and the administration +of public affairs, while he reminds his friend of several +remarkable instances of his successful predictions. “I do +not divine human events by the arts practised by the augurs, +but I use other signs.” Cicero then expresses himself with +the guarded obscurity of a philosopher who could not openly +ridicule the prevailing superstitions; but we perfectly comprehend +the nature of his “signs” when, in the great pending +event of the rival conflicts of Pompey and of Cæsar, he +shows the means he used for his purpose. “On one side I +consider the humour and genius of Cæsar, and on the other +the condition and the manner of civil wars.”<a name="FnAnchor_184" id="FnAnchor_184" href="#Footnote_184"><span class="sp">184</span></a> In a word, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page265" id="page265"></a>265</span> +the political diviner foretold events by their dependence on +general causes, while the moral diviner, by his experience of +the personal character, anticipated the actions of the individual. +Others, too, have asserted the possession of this +faculty. Du Vair, a famous chancellor of France, imagined +the faculty was intuitive with him: by his own experience +he had observed the results of this curious and obscure +faculty, and at a time when the history of the human mind +was so imperfectly comprehended, it is easy to account for +the apparent egotism of this grave and dignified character. +“Born,” says he, “with constitutional infirmity, a mind and +body but ill adapted to be laborious, with a most treacherous +memory, enjoying no gift of nature, yet able at all times to +exercise a sagacity so great that I do not know, since I have +reached manhood, that anything of importance has happened +to the state, to the public, or to myself in particular, which +I had not foreseen.”<a name="FnAnchor_185" id="FnAnchor_185" href="#Footnote_185"><span class="sp">185</span></a> This faculty seems to be described by +a remarkable expression employed by Thucydides in his character +of Themistocles, of which the following is given as a +close translation: “By a species of sagacity peculiarly his +own, for which he was in no degree indebted either to early +education or after study, he was supereminently happy in +forming a prompt judgment in matters that admitted but +little time for deliberation; at the same time that he far +surpassed all in his <i>deductions of the future from the</i> <span class="sc">past</span>, +or was the best <i>guesser of the future</i> from the past.”<a name="FnAnchor_186" id="FnAnchor_186" href="#Footnote_186"><span class="sp">186</span></a> +Should this faculty of moral and political prediction be ever +considered as a science, we can even furnish it with a denomination; +for the writer of the Life of Sir Thomas Browne +prefixed to his works, in claiming the honour of it for that +philosopher, calls it “the Stochastic,” a term derived from +the Greek and from archery, meaning “to shoot at a mark.” +This eminent genius, it seems, often “hit the white.” Our +biographer declares, that “though he were no prophet, yet +in that faculty which comes nearest to it, he excelled, <i>i. e.</i>, +<i>the Stochastic</i>, wherein he was seldom mistaken as to <i>future +events</i>, as well public as private.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page266" id="page266"></a>266</span></p> + +<p>We are not, indeed, inculcating the fanciful elements of an +occult art. We know whence its principles may be drawn; +and we may observe how it was practised by the wisest +among the ancients. Aristotle, who collected all the curious +knowledge of his times, has preserved some remarkable +opinions on the art of <i>divination</i>. In detailing the various +subterfuges practised by the pretended diviners of his day, +he reveals the <i>secret principle</i> by which one of them regulated +his predictions. He frankly declared that the <span class="sc">future</span> +being always very obscure, while the <span class="sc">past</span> was easy to know, +<i>his predictions had never the future in view</i>; for he decided +from the <span class="sc">past</span> as it appeared in human affairs, which, however, +lie concealed from the multitude.<a name="FnAnchor_187" id="FnAnchor_187" href="#Footnote_187"><span class="sp">187</span></a> Such is the true +principle by which a philosophical historian may become a +skilful diviner.</p> + +<p>Human affairs make themselves; they grow out of one +another, with slight variations; and thus it is that they +usually happen as they have happened. The necessary +dependence of effects on causes, and the similarity of human +interests and human passions, are confirmed by comparative +parallels with the past. The philosophic sage of holy writ +truly deduced the important principle, that “the thing that +hath been is that which shall be.” The vital facts of history, +deadened by the touch of chronological antiquarianism, are +restored to animation when we comprehend the principles +which necessarily terminate in certain results, and discover +the characters among mankind who are the usual actors in +these scenes. The heart of man beats on the same eternal +springs; and whether he advances or retrogrades, he cannot +escape out of the march of human thought. Hence, in the +most extraordinary revolutions we discover that the time and +the place only have changed; for even when events are not +strictly parallel, we detect the same conducting principles. +Scipio Ammirato, one of the great Italian historians, in his +curious discourses on Tacitus, intermingles ancient examples +with the modern; that, he says, all may see how the truth +of things is not altered by the changes and diversities of time. +Machiavel drew his illustrations of modern history from the +ancient.</p> + +<p>When the French Revolution recalled our attention to a +similar eventful period in our own history, the neglected +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page267" id="page267"></a>267</span> +volumes which preserved the public and private history of +our Charles the First and Cromwell were collected with +eager curiosity. Often the scene existing before us, even the +very personages themselves, opened on us in these forgotten +pages. But as the annals of human nature did not commence +with those of Charles the First, we took a still more +retrograde step, and it was discovered in this wider range, +that in the various governments of Greece and Rome, the +events of those times had been only reproduced. Among +them the same principles had terminated in the same results, +and the same personages had figured in the same drama. +This strikingly appeared in a little curious volume, entitled, +“Essai sur l’Histoire de la Révolution Françoise, par une +Société d’Auteurs Latins,” published at Paris in 1801. This +“Society of Latin Authors,” who have written so inimitably +the history of the <i>French</i> Revolution, consist of the <i>Roman +historians</i> themselves! By extracts ingeniously applied, the +events of that melancholy period are so appositely described, +indeed so minutely narrated, that they will not fail to surprise +those who are not accustomed to detect the perpetual +parallels which we meet with in philosophical history.</p> + +<p>Many of these crises in history are close resemblances of +each other. Compare the history of “The League” in +France with that of our own civil wars. We are struck by +the similar occurrences performed by the same political characters +who played their part on both those great theatres of +human action. A satirical royalist of those times has commemorated +the motives, the incidents, and the personages in +the “Satire Ménippée de la Vertu du Catholicon d’Espagne;” +and this famous “Satire Ménippée” is a perfect Hudibras in +prose! The writer discovers all the bitter ridicule of Butler +in his ludicrous and severe exhibition of the “Etats de Paris,” +while the artist who designed the satirical prints becomes no +contemptible Hogàrth. So much are these public events +alike in their general spirit and termination, that they have +afforded the subject of a printed but unpublished volume, +entitled “Essai sur les Revolutions.”<a name="FnAnchor_188" id="FnAnchor_188" href="#Footnote_188"><span class="sp">188</span></a> The whole work +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page268" id="page268"></a>268</span> +was modelled on this principle. “It would be possible,” +says the eloquent writer, “to frame a table or chart in which +all the given imaginable events of the history of a people +would be reduced to a mathematical exactness.” The conception +is fanciful, but its foundation lies deep in truth.</p> + +<p>A remarkable illustration of the secret principle divulged +by Aristotle, and described by Thucydides, appears in the +recent confession of a man of genius among ourselves. When +Mr. Coleridge was a political writer in the <i>Morning Post</i> and +<i>Courier</i>, at a period of darkness and utter confusion, that +writer was then conducted by a tract of light, not revealed to +ordinary journalists, on the Napoleonic empire. “Of that +despotism in masquerade” he decided by “the state of Rome +under the first Cæsars;” and of the Spanish American Revolution, +by taking the war of the United Provinces with Philip +the Second as the groundwork of the comparison. “On +every great occurrence,” he says, “I endeavoured to discover, +in <span class="sc">past history</span> the event that most nearly resembled it. I +procured the contemporary historians, memorialists, and +pamphleteers. Then fairly subtracting the points of <i>difference</i> +from those of <i>likeness</i>, as the balance favoured the +former or the latter, I conjectured that the result would +be the same or different. In the essays ‘On the Probable +Final Restoration of the Bourbons,’ I feel myself authorised +to affirm, by the effect produced on many intelligent men, +that were the dates wanting, it might have been suspected +that the essays had been written within the last twelve +months.”<a name="FnAnchor_189" id="FnAnchor_189" href="#Footnote_189"><span class="sp">189</span></a></p> + +<p>In moral predictions on individuals, many have discovered +the future character. The revolutionary character of Cardinal +de Retz, even in his youth, was detected by the sagacity of +Mazarin. He then wrote the history of the conspiracy of +Fiesco, with such vehement admiration of his hero, that the +Italian politician, after its perusal, predicted that the young +author would be one of the most turbulent spirits of the age! +The father of Marshal Biron, even amid the glory of his son, +discovered the cloud which, invisible to others, was to obscure +it. The father, indeed, well knew the fiery passions of his +son. “Biron,” said the domestic seer, “I advise thee, when +peace takes place, to go and plant cabbages in thy garden, +otherwise I warn thee, thou wilt lose thy head on the scaffold!” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page269" id="page269"></a>269</span> +Lorenzo de’ Medici had studied the temper of his son +Piero; for Guicciardini informs us that he had often complained +to his most intimate friends that “he foresaw the +imprudence and arrogance of his son would occasion the ruin +of his family.” There is a remarkable prediction of James +the First of the evils likely to ensue from Laud’s violence, in +a conversation given by Hacket, which the king held with +Archbishop Williams. When the king was hard pressed to +promote Laud, he gave his reasons why he intended to “keep +Laud back from all place of rule and authority, because I find +he hath a restless spirit, and cannot see when matters are +well, but loves to toss and change, and to bring things to a +pitch of reformation floating in his own brain, which endangers +the steadfastness of that which is in a good pass. I speak +not at random; he hath made himself known to me to be +such an one.” James then gives the circumstances to which +he alludes; and at length, when, still pursued by the archbishop, +then the organ of Buckingham, as usual, this king’s +good nature too easily yielded; he did not, however, without +closing with this prediction: “Then take him to you!—but, +on my soul, you will repent it!” The future character of +Cromwell was apparent to two of our great politicians. +“This coarse unpromising man,” said Lord Falkland, pointing +to Cromwell, “will be the first person in the kingdom, if +the nation comes to blows!” And Archbishop Williams told +Charles the First confidentially, “There was <i>that</i> in Cromwell +which foreboded something dangerous, and wished his majesty +would either win him over to him, or get him taken off.” +The Marquis of Wellesley’s incomparable character of Bonaparte +predicted his fall when highest in his glory; that great +statesman then poured forth the sublime language of philosophical +prophecy. “His eagerness of power is so inordinate; +his jealousy of independence so fierce; his keenness of appetite +so feverish in all that touches his ambition, even in the +most trifling things, that he must plunge into dreadful difficulties. +He is one of an order of minds that by nature make +for themselves great reverses.”</p> + +<p>Lord Mansfield was once asked, after the commencement +of the French Revolution, when it would end? His lordship +replied, “It is an event <i>without precedent</i>, and therefore <i>without +prognostic</i>.” The truth, however, is, that it had both. +Our own history had furnished a precedent in the times of +Charles the First. And the prognostics were so redundant, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page270" id="page270"></a>270</span> +that a volume might be collected of passages from various +writers who had predicted it. However ingenious might be +a history of the Reformation before it occurred, the evidence +could not be more authentic and positive than that of the +great moral and political revolution which we have witnessed +in our own days.</p> + +<p>A prediction which Bishop Butler threw out in a sermon +before the House of Lords, in 1741, does honour to his political +sagacity, as well as to his knowledge of human nature; +he calculated that the irreligious spirit would produce, some +time or other, political disorders similar to those which, in +the seventeenth century, had arisen from religious fanaticism. +“Is there no danger,” he observed, “that all this may raise +somewhat like <i>that levelling spirit</i>, upon atheistical principles, +which in the last age prevailed upon enthusiastic ones? Not +to speak of the possibility that <i>different sorts of people</i> may +<i>unite</i> in it upon these <i>contrary principles</i>!” All this literally +has been accomplished! Leibnitz, indeed, foresaw the results +of those selfish, and at length demoralizing, opinions, which +began to prevail through Europe in his day. These disorganizing +principles, conducted by a political sect, who tried +“to be worse than they could be,” as old Montaigne expresses +it; a sort of men who have been audaciously congratulated +as “having a <i>taste</i> for evil;” exhibited to the astonished +world the dismal catastrophe the philosopher predicted. I +shall give this remarkable passage. “I find that certain +opinions approaching those of Epicurus and Spinoza, are, little +by little, insinuating themselves into the minds of the great +rulers of public affairs, who serve as the guides of others, and +on whom all matters depend; besides, these opinions are also +sliding into fashionable books, and thus <i>they are preparing +all things to that</i> <span class="sc">general revolution</span> <i>which menaces +Europe</i>; destroying those generous sentiments of the +ancients, Greek and Roman, which preferred the love of +country and public good, and the cares of posterity, to fortune +and even to life. Our <i>public spirits</i>,<a name="FnAnchor_190" id="FnAnchor_190" href="#Footnote_190"><span class="sp">190</span></a> as the English +call them, excessively diminish, and are no more in fashion, +and will be still less while the least vicious of these men preserve +only one principle, which they call <i>honour</i>; a principle +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page271" id="page271"></a>271</span> +which only keeps them from not doing what they deem a +low action, while they openly laugh at the love of country—ridicule +those who are zealous for public ends—and when a +well-intentioned man asks what will become of their posterity, +they reply ‘Then, as now!’ <i>But it may happen to these +persons themselves to have to endure those evils which they +believe are reserved for others.</i> If this epidemical and intellectual +disorder could be corrected, <i>whose bad effects are +already visible</i>, those evils might still be prevented; but if it +proceeds in its growth, <i>Providence will correct man by the +very revolution which must spring from it</i>. Whatever may +happen indeed, all must turn out as usual for the best in +general, at the end of the account, although <i>this cannot +happen without the punishment of those who contribute even +to general good by their evil actions</i>.” The most superficial +reader will hardly require a commentary on this very remarkable +passage; he must instantly perceive how Leibnitz, in +the seventeenth century, foresaw what has occurred in the +eighteenth; and the prediction has been verified in the history +of the actors in the late revolution, while the result, +which we have not perhaps yet had, according to Leibnitz’s +own exhilarating system of optimism, is an eduction of good +from evil.</p> + +<p>A great genius, who was oppressed by malignant rivals in +his own times, has been noticed by Madame de Staël, as +having left behind him an actual prophecy of the French Revolution: +this was Guibert, who, in his Commentary on +Folard’s Polybius, published in 1727, declared that “a conspiracy +is actually forming in Europe, by means at once so +subtle and efficacious, that I am sorry not to have come into +the world <i>thirty years later</i> to witness its result. It must be +confessed that the sovereigns of Europe wear very bad spectacles. +The proofs of it are mathematical, if such proofs ever +were, of a conspiracy.” Guibert unquestionably foresaw the +anti-monarchical spirit gathering up its mighty wings, and +rising over the universe! but could not judge of the nature +of the impulse which he predicted; prophesying from the +ideas in his luminous intellect, he seems to have been far +more curious about, than certain of, the consequences. +Rousseau even circumstantially predicted the convulsions of +modern Europe. He stood on the crisis of the French Revolution, +which he vividly foresaw, for he seriously advised the +higher classes of society to have their children taught some +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page272" id="page272"></a>272</span> +useful trade; a notion highly ridiculed on the first appearance +of the Emile: but at its hour the awful truth struck! He, +too, foresaw the horrors of that revolution; for he announced +that Emile designed to emigrate, because, from the moral +state of the people, a virtuous revolution had become impossible.<a name="FnAnchor_191" id="FnAnchor_191" href="#Footnote_191"><span class="sp">191</span></a> +The eloquence of Burke was often oracular; and a +speech of Pitt, in 1800, painted the state of Europe as it was +only realised fifteen years afterwards.</p> + +<p>But many remarkable predictions have turned out to be +false. Whenever the facts on which the prediction is raised +are altered in their situation, what was relatively true ceases +to operate as a general principle. For instance, to that +striking anticipation which Rousseau formed of the French +revolution, he added, by way of note, as remarkable a prediction +on <span class="sc">monarchy</span>. <i>Je tiens pour impossible que les +grandes monarchies de l’Europe aient encore long tems à +durer; toutes ont brillé et tout état qui brille est sur son declin.</i> +The predominant anti-monarchical spirit among our +rising generation seems to hasten on the accomplishment of +the prophecy; but if an important alteration has occurred in +the nature of things, we may question the result. If by +looking into the past, Rousseau found facts which sufficiently +proved that nations in the height of their splendour and corruption +had closed their career by falling an easy conquest to +barbarous invaders, who annihilated the most polished people +at a single blow; we now find that no such power any +longer exists in the great family of Europe: the state of the +question is therefore changed. It is <i>now</i> how corrupt nations +will act against corrupt nations equally enlightened? +But if the citizen of Geneva drew his prediction of the extinction +of monarchy in Europe from that predilection for +democracy which assumes that a republic must necessarily +produce more happiness to the people than a monarchy, then +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page273" id="page273"></a>273</span> +we say that the fatal experiment was again repeated since +the prediction, and the fact proved not true! The excess of +democracy inevitably terminates in a monarchical state; and +were all the monarchies in Europe at present republics, a +philosopher might safely predict the restoration of monarchy!</p> + +<p>If a prediction be raised on facts which our own prejudices +induce us to infer will exist, it must be chimerical. We have +an Universal Chronicle of the Monk Carion, printed in 1532, +in which he announces that the world was about ending,<a name="FnAnchor_192" id="FnAnchor_192" href="#Footnote_192"><span class="sp">192</span></a> as +well as his chronicle of it; that the Turkish empire would +not last many years; that after the death of Charles the +Fifth the empire of Germany would be torn to pieces by the +Germans themselves. This monk will no longer pass for a +prophet; he belongs to that class of historians who write to +humour their own prejudices, like a certain lady-prophetess, +who, in 1811, predicted that grass was to grow in Cheapside +about this time!<a name="FnAnchor_193" id="FnAnchor_193" href="#Footnote_193"><span class="sp">193</span></a> The monk Carion, like others of greater +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page274" id="page274"></a>274</span> +name, had miscalculated the weeks of Daniel, and wished +more ill to the Mahometans than suit the Christian cabinets +of Europe to inflict on them; and, lastly, the monastic historian +had no notion that it would please Providence to +prosper the heresy of Luther! Sir James Mackintosh once +observed, “I am sensible that in the field of <i>political prediction</i> +veteran sagacity has often been deceived.” Sir +James alluded to the memorable example of Harrington, who +published a demonstration of the impossibility of re-establishing +monarchy in England six months before the restoration +of Charles the Second! But the author of the Oceana +was a political fanatic, who ventured to predict an event, not +by other similar events, but by a theoretical principle which +he had formed, that “the balance of power depends on that +of property.” Harrington, in his contracted view of human +nature, had dropped out of his calculation all the stirring +passions of ambition and party, and the vacillations of the +multitude. A similar error of a great genius occurs in De +Foe. “Child,” says Mr. George Chalmers, “foreseeing from +experience that men’s <i>conduct</i> must finally be decided by +their <i>principles</i>, <span class="sc">foretold</span> <i>the colonial revolt</i>. De Foe, +allowing his prejudices to obscure his sagacity, reprobated +that suggestion, because he deemed <i>interest</i> a more strenuous +prompter than <i>enthusiasm</i>.” The predictions of Harrington +and De Foe are precisely such as we might expect from a +petty calculator, a political economist, who can see nothing +farther than immediate results; but the true philosophical +predictor was Child, who had read the <i>past</i>. It is probable +that the American emancipation from the mother country of +England was foreseen twenty or thirty years before it +occurred, though not perhaps by the administration. Lord +Orford, writing in 1754, under the ministry of the Duke of +Newcastle, blames “The instructions to the governor of New +York, which seemed better calculated for the latitude of +Mexico, and for a Spanish tribunal, than for a free British +settlement, and in such opulence and such haughtiness, that +<i>suspicions had long been conceived of their meditating to throw</i> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page275" id="page275"></a>275</span> +<i>off the dependence on their mother-country</i>.” If this was +written at the time, as the author asserts, it is a very remarkable +passage, observes the noble editor of his memoirs. +The prognostics or presages of this revolution it may now be +difficult to recover; but it is evident that Child, before the +time when Lord Orford wrote this passage, predicted the +separation on true and philosophical principles.</p> + +<p>Even when the event does not always justify the prediction, +the predictor may not have been the less correct in his +principles of divination. The catastrophe of human life, and +the turn of great events, often prove accidental. Marshal +Biron, whom we have noticed, might have ascended the +throne instead of the scaffold; Cromwell and De Retz might +have become only the favourite general or the minister of +their sovereigns. Fortuitous events are not comprehended in +the reach of human prescience; such must be consigned to +those vulgar superstitions which presume to discover the +issue of human events, without pretending to any human +knowledge. There is nothing supernatural in the prescience +of the philosopher.</p> + +<p>Sometimes predictions have been condemned as false ones, +which, when scrutinised, we can scarcely deem to have +failed: they may have been accomplished, and they may +again revolve on us. In 1749 Dr. Hartley published his +“Observations on Man,” and predicted the fall of the existing +governments and hierarchies in two simple propositions; +among others—</p> + +<p>Prop. 81. It is probable that all the civil governments will +be overturned.</p> + +<p>Prop. 82. It is probable that the present forms of church-government +will be dissolved.</p> + +<p>Many were alarmed at these predicted falls of church and +state. Lady Charlotte Wentworth asked Hartley when +these terrible things would happen. The answer of the +predictor was not less awful: “I am an old man, and shall +not live to see them; but you are a young woman, and probably +will see them.” In the subsequent revolutions of +America and of France, and perhaps now of Spain, we can +hardly deny that these predictions had failed. A fortuitous +event has once more thrown back Europe into its old corners: +but we still revolve in a circle, and what is now dark +and remote may again come round, when time has performed +its great cycle. There was a prophetical passage in Hooker’s +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page276" id="page276"></a>276</span> +Ecclesiastical Polity regarding the church which long occupied +the speculations of its expounders. Hooker indeed +seemed to have done what no predictor of events should do; +he fixed on the period of its accomplishment. In 1597 he +declared that it would “peradventure fall out to be threescore +and ten years, or if strength do awe, into fourscore.” +Those who had outlived the revolution in 1641, when the +long parliament pulled down the ecclesiastical establishment, +and sold the church-lands—a circumstance which Hooker +had contemplated—and were afterwards returned to their +places on the Restoration, imagined that the prediction had +not yet been completed, and were looking with great anxiety +towards the year 1677, for the close of this extraordinary +prediction! When Bishop Barlow, in 1675, was consulted +on it, he endeavoured to dissipate the panic, by referring to an +old historian, who had reproached our nation for their proneness +to prophecies!<a name="FnAnchor_194" id="FnAnchor_194" href="#Footnote_194"><span class="sp">194</span></a> The prediction of the venerable +Hooker in truth had been fully accomplished, and the event +had occurred without Bishop Barlow having recurred to it; +so easy it seems to forget what we dislike to remember! +The period of time was too literally taken, and seems to +have been only the figurative expression of man’s age in +scriptural language which Hooker had employed; but no +one will now deny that this prescient sage had profoundly +foreseen the results of that rising party, whose designs on +church and state were clearly depicted in his own luminous +view.</p> + +<p>The philosophical predictor, in foretelling a crisis from the +appearance of things, will not rashly assign the period of time; +for the crisis which he anticipates is calculated on by that +inevitable march of events which generate each other in +human affairs; but the period is always dubious, being either +retarded or accelerated by circumstances of a nature incapable +of entering into this moral arithmetic. It is probable that a +revolution similar to that of France would have occurred in +this country, had it not been counteracted by the genius of +Pitt. In 1618 it was easy to foretell by the political prognostic +that a mighty war throughout Europe must necessarily +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page277" id="page277"></a>277</span> +occur. At that moment, observes Bayle, the house of +Austria aimed at a universal monarchy; the consequent +domineering spirit of the ministers of the Emperor and the +King of Spain, combined with their determination to exterminate +the new religion, excited a reaction to this imperial +despotism; public opinion had been suppressed, till every +people grew impatient; while their sovereigns, influenced by +national feeling, were combining against Austria. But +Austria was a vast military power, and her generals were the +first of their class. The efforts of Europe would then be +often repulsed! This state of affairs prognosticated a long +war!—and when at length it broke out it lasted thirty years! +The approach and the duration of the war might have been +predicted; but the period of its termination could not have +been foreseen.</p> + +<p>There is, however, a spirit of political vaticination which +presumes to pass beyond the boundaries of human prescience; +it has been often ascribed to the highest source of inspiration +by enthusiasts; but since “the language of prophecy” has +ceased, such pretensions are not less impious than they are +unphilosophical. Knox the reformer possessed an extraordinary +portion of this awful prophetic confidence: he appears to +have predicted several remarkable events, and the fates of +some persons. We are told that, condemned to a galley at +Rochelle, he predicted that “within two or three years he +should preach the gospel at Saint Giles’s in Edinburgh;” an +improbable event, which happened. Of Mary and Darnley, +he pronounced that, “as the king, for the queen’s pleasure, +had gone to mass, the Lord, in his justice, would make her +the instrument of his overthrow.” Other striking predictions +of the deaths of Thomas Maitland, and of Kirkaldy of Grange, +and the warning he solemnly gave to the Regent Murray not +to go to Linlithgow, where he was assassinated, occasioned a +barbarous people to imagine that the prophet Knox had +received an immediate communication from Heaven. A +Spanish friar and almanac-maker predicted, in clear and +precise words, the death of Henry the Fourth of France; and +Pieresc, though he had no faith in the vain science of astrology, +yet, alarmed at whatever menaced the life of a beloved +monarch, consulted with some of the king’s friends, and had +the Spanish almanac laid before his majesty. That high-spirited +monarch thanked them for their solicitude, but +utterly slighted the prediction: the event occurred, and in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page278" id="page278"></a>278</span> +the following year the Spanish friar spread his own fame in a +new almanac. I have been occasionally struck at the Jeremiads +of honest George Withers, the vaticinating poet of our +civil wars: some of his works afford many solemn predictions. +We may account for many predictions of this class without +the intervention of any supernatural agency. Among the +busy spirits of a revolutionary age, the heads of a party, such +as Knox, have frequently secret communications with spies or +with friends. In a constant source of concealed information, +a shrewd, confident, and enthusiastic temper will find ample +matter for mysterious prescience. Knox exercised that deep +sagacity which took in the most enlarged views of the future, +as appears by his Machiavelian foresight on the barbarous +destruction of the monasteries and the cathedrals—“The best +way to keep the <i>rooks</i> from returning, is to pull down their +<i>nests</i>.” In the case of the prediction of the death of Henry +the Fourth, by the Spanish friar, it resulted either from his +being acquainted with the plot, or from his being made an +instrument for their purpose by those who were. It appears +that rumours of Henry’s assassination were rife in Spain and +Italy before the event occurred. Such vaticinators as George +Withers will always rise in those disturbed times which his +own prosaic metre has forcibly depicted:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>It may be on that darkness, which they find</p> +<p>Within their hearts, a sudden light hath shin’d,</p> +<p>Making reflections of <span class="sc">some things to come</span>,</p> +<p>Which leave within them musings troublesome</p> +<p>To their weak spirits; or too intricate</p> +<p>For them to put in order, and relate.</p> +<p>They act as men in ecstasies have done—</p> +<p>Striving their cloudy visions to declare—</p> +<p>And I, perhaps, among these may be one</p> +<p>That was let loose for service to be done:</p> +<p>I blunder out what worldly-prudent men</p> +<p>Count madnesse.—P. 7.<a name="FnAnchor_195" id="FnAnchor_195" href="#Footnote_195"><span class="sp">195</span></a></p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Separating human prediction from inspired prophecy, we +only ascribe to the faculties of man that acquired prescience +which we have demonstrated that some great minds have +unquestionably exercised. We have discovered its principles +in the necessary dependence of effects on general causes, and +we have shown that, impelled by the same motives, and +circumscribed by the same passions, all human affairs revolve +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page279" id="page279"></a>279</span> +in a circle; and we have opened the true source of this yet +imperfect science of moral and political prediction, in an +intimate but a discriminative knowledge of the <span class="sc">past</span>.</p> + +<p>Authority is sacred, when experience affords parallels and +analogies. If much which may overwhelm when it shall +happen can be foreseen, the prescient statesman and moralist +may provide defensive measures to break the waters, whose +streams they cannot always direct; and the venerable Hooker +has profoundly observed, that “the best things have been overthrown, +not so much by puissance and might of adversaries, +as through defect of council in those that should have upheld +and defended the same.”<a name="FnAnchor_196" id="FnAnchor_196" href="#Footnote_196"><span class="sp">196</span></a></p> + +<p>The philosophy of history blends the past with the present, +and combines the present with the future: each is but a portion +of the other! The actual state of a thing is necessarily +determined by its antecedent, and thus progressively through +the chain of human existence; while “the present is always +full of the future,” as Leibnitz has happily expressed the idea.</p> + +<p>A new and beautiful light is thus thrown over the annals +of mankind, by the analogies and the parallels of different +ages in succession. How the seventeenth century has +influenced the eighteenth; and the results of the nineteenth +as they shall appear in the twentieth, might open a source of +predictions, to which, however difficult it might be to affix +their dates, there would be none in exploring into causes, and +tracing their inevitable effects.</p> + +<p>The multitude live only among the shadows of things in +the appearances of the <span class="sc">present</span>; the learned, busied with the +<span class="sc">past</span>, can only trace whence and how all comes; but he who +is one of the people, and one of the learned, the true philosopher, +views the natural tendency and terminations which are +preparing for the <span class="sc">future</span>!</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_179" id="Footnote_179" href="#FnAnchor_179"><span class="fn">179</span></a> See Rushworth, vol. i. p. 420. His language was decisive.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_180" id="Footnote_180" href="#FnAnchor_180"><span class="fn">180</span></a> This letter is in the works of Æneas Sylvius; a copious extract is given +by Bossuet, in his “Variations.” See also Mosheim, Cent. xiii. part ii. +chap. 2, note <i>m</i>.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_181" id="Footnote_181" href="#FnAnchor_181"><span class="fn">181</span></a> Though it cannot be positively asserted it is generally believed that +the author was Robert Longlande, a monk of Malvern. See introduction +to Wright’s edition of “The Vision.” The latter part of the year 1362 +is believed to be the time of its composition.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_182" id="Footnote_182" href="#FnAnchor_182"><span class="fn">182</span></a> The passage is so remarkable as to be worth giving here, for the +immediate reference of such readers as may not have ready access to the +original. We modernize the spelling from Mr. Wright’s edition:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>But there shall come a king,</p> +<p>And confess you religious,</p> +<p>And award you as the Bible telleth</p> +<p>For breaking of your rule.</p> + +<p class="s" style="letter-spacing: 4em;">****</p> + +<p class="s">And then shall the Abbot of Abingdon</p> +<p>And all his issue for ever,</p> +<p>Have a knock of a king,</p> +<p>And incurable the wound.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p><a name="Footnote_183" id="Footnote_183" href="#FnAnchor_183"><span class="fn">183</span></a> Ep. ad Att. Lib. x. Ep. 4.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_184" id="Footnote_184" href="#FnAnchor_184"><span class="fn">184</span></a> Ep. ad Att. Lib. vi. Ep. 6.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_185" id="Footnote_185" href="#FnAnchor_185"><span class="fn">185</span></a> This remarkable confession I find in Menage’s “Observations sur la +Langue Françoise,” Part II. p. 110.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_186" id="Footnote_186" href="#FnAnchor_186"><span class="fn">186</span></a> <span class="grk" title="Okeia gar xunesei, kai oute promathôn es autên ouden, out epimathôn +tôn te parachrêma di elachistês boulês kratistos gnômôn, kai +tôn mellontôn epipleiston tou genêsomenou aristos eikastês"> +Οὶκείᾳ γὰρ ξυνέσει, καἱ οὔτε προμαθὡν ἐς +αὐτἡν οὐδὲν, οὔτ᾽ ἐπιμαθὼν τῶν τε +παραχρῆμα δἰ ἐλαχίστης βουλῆς κράτιστος +γνώμων, καὶ τῶν μελλόντων ἐπιπλεῖστον +τοῦ γενησομένου ἄριστος εἰκαστής</span>.—Thucydides, +lib. i.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_187" id="Footnote_187" href="#FnAnchor_187"><span class="fn">187</span></a> Arist. Rhet. lib. vii. c. 5.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_188" id="Footnote_188" href="#FnAnchor_188"><span class="fn">188</span></a> This work was printed in London as a <i>first</i> volume, but remained unpublished. +This singularly curious production was suppressed, but reprinted +at Paris. It has suffered the most cruel mutilations. I read with +surprise and instruction the single copy which I was assured was the only +one saved from the havoc of the entire edition. The writer was the celebrated +Chateaubriand.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_189" id="Footnote_189" href="#FnAnchor_189"><span class="fn">189</span></a> “Biographia Literaria; or, Biographical Sketches of my Literary Life +and Opinions.” By S.T. Coleridge, Esq. 1807. Vol. i. p. 214.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_190" id="Footnote_190" href="#FnAnchor_190"><span class="fn">190</span></a> <i>Public spirit</i>, and <i>public spirits</i>, were about the year 1700 household +words with us. Leibnitz was struck by their significance, but it might +now puzzle us to find synonyms, or even to explain the very terms themselves.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_191" id="Footnote_191" href="#FnAnchor_191"><span class="fn">191</span></a> This extraordinary passage is at the close of the third book of <i>Emile</i>, +to which I must refer the reader. It is curious, however, to observe, that +in 1760 Rousseau poured forth the following awful predictions, which +were considered quite absurd:—“Vous vous fiez à l’ordre actuel de +la société, sans songer que cet ordre est sujet à des <i>révolutions inévitables</i>—le +grand devient petit, le riche devient pauvre, le monarque devient +sujet—<i>nous approchons l’état de crise et du siècle des révolutions</i>. Que +fera donc dans la bassesse ce satrape que vous n’aurez élevé que pour la +grandeur? Que fera dans la pauvreté, ce publicain qui ne sçait vivre que +d’or? Que fera, dépourvu de tout, ce fastueux imbecille qui ne sait point +user de lui-même?” &c. &c.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_192" id="Footnote_192" href="#FnAnchor_192"><span class="fn">192</span></a> This prediction of the end of the world is one of the most popular +hallucinations, warmly received by many whenever it is promulgated. It +had the most marked effect when the cycle of a thousand years after the +birth of Christ was approaching completion; and the world was assured +that was the limit of its present state. Numerous acts of piety were performed. +Churches were built, religious houses founded, and asceticism +became the order of the day, until the dreaded year was completed without +the accompaniment of the supernatural horrors so generally feared; the +world soon relapsed into forgetfulness, and went on as before. Very many +prophecies have since been promulgated; and in defiance of such repeated +failures are still occasionally indulged in by persons from whom better +things might be expected. Richard Brothers, in the last century, and +more than one reverend gentleman in the present one, have been bold +enough to fix an exact time for the event: but it has passed as quietly as +the thousandth anniversary noted above.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_193" id="Footnote_193" href="#FnAnchor_193"><span class="fn">193</span></a> One of the most effective prophecies against London, and which +frightened for the time a very large number of its inhabitants, was that +given out in the spring of 1750, after a slight shock of an earthquake +was felt in London, and it was prophesied that another should occur +which would destroy the town and all its inhabitants. All the roads were +thronged with persons flying to the country a day or two before the +threatened event; and they were all unmercifully ridiculed when the day +passed over quietly. Walpole in one of his amusing letters speaks of a +party who went “to an inn ten miles out of town, where they are to play +at brag till five in the morning, and then come back—I suppose, to look +for the bones of their husbands and families under the rubbish!” Jokers +who were out late amused themselves by bawling in the watchmen’s voice, +“Past four o’clock, and a dreadful earthquake!” A pamphlet purporting +to be “a full and true account” of this earthquake which never happened, +was “printed for Tim Tremor, in Fleet-street, 1750,” and made the +vehicle for much personal satire. Thus it is stated that the “Commissioners +of Westminster-bridge have ordered this calamity to be entered in +their books, as a glorious excuse for the next sinking pier;” and that the +town received some comfort upon hearing that “the Inns of Court were +all sunk, and several orders were given that no one should assist in +bringing any one lawyer above ground.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_194" id="Footnote_194" href="#FnAnchor_194"><span class="fn">194</span></a> An eye-witness of the great fire of London has noted the difficulty of +obtaining effective assistance in endeavouring to stay its progress, owing to +the superstition which seized many persons, because a prophecy of Mother +Shipton’s was quoted to show that London was doomed to hopeless and +entire destruction.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_195" id="Footnote_195" href="#FnAnchor_195"><span class="fn">195</span></a> “A Dark Lantherne, offering a dim Discovery, intermixed with Remembrances, +Predictions, &c. 1652.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_196" id="Footnote_196" href="#FnAnchor_196"><span class="fn">196</span></a> Hooker wrote this about 1560, and he wrote before the <i>Siècle des Révolutions</i> +had begun, even among ourselves! He penetrated into this important +principle merely by the force of his own meditation. <i>At this +moment</i>, after more practical experience in political revolutions, a very intelligent +French writer, in a pamphlet, entitled “M. da Villèle,” says, +“Experience proclaims a great truth—namely, that revolutions themselves +cannot succeed, except when they are favoured by a portion of the +<span class="sc">Government</span>.” He illustrates the axiom by the different revolutions +which have occurred in his nation within these thirty years. It is the +same truth, traced to its source by another road.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page280" id="page280"></a>280</span></p> +<h3>DREAMS AT THE DAWN OF PHILOSOPHY.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Modern</span> philosophy, theoretical or experimental, only amuses +while the action of discovery is suspended or advances; the +interest ceases with the inquirer when the catastrophe is +ascertained, as in the romance whose <i>dénouement</i> turns on a +mysterious incident, which, once unfolded, all future agitation +ceases. But in the true infancy of science, philosophers were +as imaginative a race as poets: marvels and portents, undemonstrable +and undefinable, with occult fancies, perpetually +beginning and never ending, were delightful as the shifting +cantos of Ariosto. Then science entranced the eye by its +thaumaturgy; when they looked through an optic tube, they +believed they were looking into futurity; or, starting at +some shadow darkening the glassy globe, beheld the absent +person; while the mechanical inventions of art were toys and +tricks, with sometimes an automaton, which frightened them +with life.</p> + +<p>The earlier votaries of modern philosophy only witnessed, +as Gaffarel calls his collection, “Unheard-of Curiosities.” +This state of the marvellous, of which we are now for ever +deprived, prevailed among the philosophers and the <i>virtuosi</i> +in Europe, and with ourselves, long after the establishment +of the Royal Society. Philosophy then depended mainly on +authority—a single one, however, was sufficient: so that when +this had been repeated by fifty others, they had the authority +of fifty honest men—whoever the first man might have been! +They were then a blissful race of children, rambling here and +there in a golden age of innocence and ignorance, where at +every step each gifted discoverer whispered to the few, some +half-concealed secret of nature, or played with some toy of +art; some invention which with great difficulty performed +what, without it, might have been done with great ease. +The cabinets of the lovers of mechanical arts formed +enchanted apartments, where the admirers feared to stir or +look about them; while the philosophers themselves half +imagined they were the very thaumaturgi, for which the +world gave them too much credit, at least for their quiet! +Would we run after the shadows in this gleaming land of +moonshine, or sport with these children in the fresh morning +of science, ere Aurora had scarcely peeped on the hills, we +must enter into their feelings, view with their eyes, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page281" id="page281"></a>281</span> +believe all they confide to us; and out of these bundles of +dreams sometimes pick out one or two for our own dreaming. +They are the fairy tales and the Arabian Nights’ entertainments +of science. But if the reader is stubbornly mathematical +and logical, he will only be holding up a great torch +against the muslin curtain, upon which the fantastic shadows +playing upon it must vanish at the instant. It is an amusement +which can only take place by carefully keeping himself +in the dark.<a name="FnAnchor_197" id="FnAnchor_197" href="#Footnote_197"><span class="sp">197</span></a></p> + +<p>What a subject, were I to enter on it, would be the narratives +of magical writers! These precious volumes have been +so constantly wasted by the profane, that now a book of real +magic requires some to find it, as well as a great magician to +use it. Albertus Magnus, or Albert the Great, as he is erroneously +styled—for this sage only derived this enviable epithet +from his surname <i>De Groot</i>, as did Hugo Grotius—this sage, +in his “Admirable Secrets,” delivers his opinion that these +books of magic should be most preciously preserved; for, he +prophetically added, the time is arriving when they would be +understood! It seems they were not intelligible in the thirteenth +century; but if Albertus has not miscalculated, in the +present day they may be! Magical terms with talismanic +figures may yet conceal many a secret; gunpowder came down +to us in a sort of anagram, and the kaleidoscope, with all its +interminable multiplications of forms, lay at hand for two +centuries in Baptista Porta’s “Natural Magic.” The abbot +Trithemius, in a confidential letter, happened to call himself +a magician, perhaps at the moment he thought himself one, +and sent three or four leaves stuffed with the names of devils +and with their evocations. At the death of his friend these +leaves fell into the unworthy hands of the prior, who was so +frightened on the first glance at the diabolical nomenclature, +that he raised the country against the abbot, and Trithemius +was nearly a lost man! Yet, after all, this evocation of devils +has reached us in his “Steganographia,” and proves to be +only one of this ingenious abbot’s polygraphic attempts at +<i>secret writing</i>; for he had flattered himself that he had invented +a mode of concealing his thoughts from all the world, +while he communicated them to a friend. Roger Bacon promised +to raise thunder and lightning, and disperse clouds by +dissolving them into rain. The first magical process has been +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page282" id="page282"></a>282</span> +obtained by Franklin; and the other, of far more use to our +agriculturists, may perchance be found lurking in some corner +which has been overlooked in the “Opus majus” of our +“Doctor mirabilis.” Do we laugh at their magical works of +art? Are we ourselves such indifferent artists? Cornelius +Agrippa, before he wrote his “Vanity of the Arts and Sciences,” +intended to reduce into a system and method the secret of +communicating with spirits and demons.<a name="FnAnchor_198" id="FnAnchor_198" href="#Footnote_198"><span class="sp">198</span></a> On good authority, +that of Porphyrius, Psellus, Plotinus, Jamblichus—and on +better, were it necessary to allege it—he was well assured +that the upper regions of the air swarmed with what the +Greeks called <i>dæmones</i>, just as our lower atmosphere is full of +birds, our waters of fish, and our earth of insects. Yet this +occult philosopher, who knew perfectly eight languages, and +married two wives, with whom he had never exchanged a +harsh word in any of them, was everywhere avoided as having +by his side, for his companion, a personage no less than a +demon! This was a great black dog, whom he suffered to +stretch himself out among his magical manuscripts, or lie on +his bed, often kissing and patting him, and feeding him on +choice morsels. Yet for this would Paulus Jovius and all the +world have had him put to the ordeal of fire and fagot! The +truth was afterwards boldly asserted by Wierus, his learned +domestic, who believed that his master’s dog was really nothing +more than what he appeared! “I believe,” says he, +“that he was a real natural dog; he was indeed black, but of +a moderate size, and I have often led him by a string, and +called him by the French name Agrippa had given him, +Monsieur! and he had a female who was called Mademoiselle! +I wonder how authors of such great character should write so +absurdly on his vanishing at his death, nobody knows how!” +But as it is probable that Monsieur and Mademoiselle must +have generated some puppy demons, Wierus ought to have +been more circumstantial.</p> + +<p>Albertus Magnus, for thirty years, had never ceased working +at a man of brass, and had cast together the qualities of +his materials under certain constellations, which threw such +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page283" id="page283"></a>283</span> +a spirit into his man of brass, that it was reported his growth +was visible; his feet, legs, thighs, shoulders, neck, and head, +expanded, and made the city of Cologne uneasy at possessing +one citizen too mighty for them all. This man of brass, when +he reached his maturity, was so loquacious, that Albert’s +master, the great scholastic Thomas Aquinas, one day, tired +of his babble, and declaring it was a devil, or devilish, with +his staff knocked the head off; and, what was extraordinary, +this brazen man, like any human being thus effectually silenced, +“word never spake more.” This incident is equally historical +and authentic; though whether heads of brass can speak, and +even prophesy, was indeed a subject of profound inquiry even +at a later period.<a name="FnAnchor_199" id="FnAnchor_199" href="#Footnote_199"><span class="sp">199</span></a> Naudé, who never questioned their vocal +powers, and yet was puzzled concerning the nature of this new +species of animal, has no doubt most judiciously stated the +question, Whether these speaking brazen heads had a sensitive +and reasoning nature, or whether demons spoke in them? +But brass has not the faculty of providing its own nourishment, +as we see in plants, and therefore they were not sensitive; +and as for the act of reasoning, these brazen heads presumed +to know nothing but the future: with the past and +the present they seemed totally unacquainted, so that their +memory and their observation were very limited; and as for +the future, that is always doubtful and obscure—even to +heads of brass! This learned man then infers that “These +brazen heads could have no reasoning faculties, for nothing +altered their nature; they said what they had to say, which +no one could contradict; and having said their say, you might +have broken the head for anything more that you could have +got out of it. Had they had any life in them, would they +not have moved as well as spoken? Life itself is but motion, +but they had no lungs, no spleen; and, in fact, though +they spoke, they had no tongue. Was a devil in them? I +think not. Yet why should men have taken all this trouble +to make, not a man, but a trumpet?”</p> + +<p>Our profound philosopher was right not to agitate the question +whether these brazen heads had ever spoken. Why +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page284" id="page284"></a>284</span> +should not a man of brass speak, since a doll can whisper, a +statue play chess,<a name="FnAnchor_200" id="FnAnchor_200" href="#Footnote_200"><span class="sp">200</span></a> and brass ducks have performed the whole +process of digestion?<a name="FnAnchor_201" id="FnAnchor_201" href="#Footnote_201"><span class="sp">201</span></a> Another magical invention has been +ridiculed with equal reason. A magician was annoyed, as +philosophers still are, by passengers in the street; and he, +particularly so, by having horses led to drink under his window. +He made a magical horse of wood, according to one +of the books of Hermes, which perfectly answered its purpose, +by frightening away the horses, or rather the grooms! +the wooden horse, no doubt, gave some palpable kick. The +same magical story might have been told of Dr. Franklin, +who finding that under his window the passengers had discovered +a spot which they made too convenient for themselves, +he charged it with his newly-discovered electrical fire. After +a few remarkable incidents had occurred, which at a former +period would have lodged the great discoverer of electricity +in the Inquisition, the modern magician succeeded just as +well as the ancient, who had the advantage of conning over +the books of Hermes. Instead of ridiculing these works of +magic, let us rather become magicians ourselves!</p> + +<p>The works of the ancient alchemists have afforded numberless +discoveries to modern chemists: nor is even their grand +operation despaired of. If they have of late not been so renowned, +this has arisen from a want of what Ashmole calls +“apertness;” a qualification early inculcated among these +illuminated sages. We find authentic accounts of some who +have lived three centuries, with tolerable complexions, possessed +of nothing but a crucible and a bellows! but they were +so unnecessarily mysterious, that whenever such a person +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page285" id="page285"></a>285</span> +was discovered, he was sure in an instant to disappear, and +was never afterwards heard of.</p> + +<p>In the “Liber Patris Sapientiæ” this selfish cautiousness is +all along impressed on the student for the accomplishment +of the great mystery. In the commentary on this precious +work of the alchemist Norton, who counsels,</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Be thou in a place secret, by thyself alone,</p> +<p>That no man see or hear what thou shalt say or done.</p> +<p>Trust not thy friend too much wheresoe’er thou go,</p> +<p>For he thou trustest best, sometyme may be thy foe;</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">Ashmole observes, that “Norton gives exceeding good advice +to the student in this science where he bids him be secret in the +carrying on of his studies and operations, and not to let any +one know of his undertakings but his good angel and himself:” +and such a close and retired breast had Norton’s master, who,</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>When men disputed <i>of colours of the rose</i>,</p> +<p>He would not speak, but kept himself full close!</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">We regret that by each leaving all his knowledge to “his +good angel and himself,” it has happened that “the good +angels” have kept it all to themselves!</p> + +<p>It cannot, however, be denied, that if they could not always +extract gold out of lead, they sometimes succeeded in washing +away the pimples on ladies’ faces, notwithstanding that Sir +Kenelm Digby poisoned his most beautiful lady, because, as +Sancho would have said, he was one of those who would +“have his bread whiter than the finest wheaten.” Van Helmont, +who could not succeed in discovering the true elixir of +life, however hit on the spirit of hartshorn, which for a good +while he considered was the wonderful elixir itself, restoring +to life persons who seemed to have lost it. And though this +delightful enthusiast could not raise a ghost, yet he thought +he had; for he raised something aerial from spa-water, which +mistaking for a ghost, he gave it that very name; a name +which we still retain in <i>gas</i>, from the German <i>geist</i>, or ghost! +Paracelsus carried the tiny spirits about him in the hilt +of his great sword! Having first discovered the qualities of +laudanum, this illustrious quack made use of it as an universal +remedy, and distributed it in the form of pills, which he carried +in the basket-hilt of his sword; the operations he performed +were as rapid as they seemed magical. Doubtless we +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page286" id="page286"></a>286</span> +have lost some inconceivable secrets by some unexpected +occurrences, which the secret itself it would seem ought to +have prevented taking place. When a philosopher had discovered +the art of prolonging life to an indefinite period, it is +most provoking to find that he should have allowed himself +to die at an early age! We have a very authentic history +from Sir Kenelm Digby himself, that when he went in disguise +to visit Descartes at his retirement at Egmond, lamenting +the brevity of life, which hindered philosophers getting +on in their studies, the French philosopher assured him that +“he had considered that matter; to render a man immortal +was what he could not promise, but that he was very sure it +was possible to lengthen out his life to the period of the +patriarchs.” And when his death was announced to the +world, the Abbé Picot, an ardent disciple, for a long time +would not believe it possible; and at length insisted, that if +it had occurred, it must have been owing to some mistake of +the philosopher’s.</p> + +<p>The late Holcroft, Loutherbourg, and Cosway, imagined +that they should escape the vulgar era of scriptural life by reorganizing +their old bones, and moistening their dry marrow; +their new principles of vitality were supposed by them to be +found in the powers of the mind; this seemed more reasonable, +but proved to be as little efficacious as those other philosophers, +who imagine they have detected the hidden principle +of life in the eels frisking in vinegar, and allude to “the +bookbinder who creates the book-worm!”</p> + +<p>Paracelsus has revealed to us one of the grandest secrets +of nature. When the world began to dispute on the very +existence of the elementary folk, it was then that he boldly +offered to give birth to a fairy, and has sent down to posterity +the recipe. He describes the impurity which is to be +transmuted into such purity, the gross elements of a delicate +fairy, which, fixed in a phial, placed in fuming dung, will in +due time settle into a full-grown fairy, bursting through its +vitreous prison—on the vivifying principle by which the +ancient Egyptians hatched their eggs in ovens. I recollect, +at Dr. Farmer’s sale, the leaf which preserved this recipe for +making a fairy, forcibly folded down by the learned commentator; +from which we must infer the credit he gave to the +experiment. There was a greatness of mind in Paracelsus, +who, having furnished a recipe to make a fairy, had the delicacy +to refrain from its formation. Even Baptista Porta, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page287" id="page287"></a>287</span> +one of the most enlightened philosophers, does not deny the +possibility of engendering creatures which, “at their full +growth, shall not exceed the size of a mouse;” but he adds, +“they are only pretty little dogs to play with.” Were these +akin to the fairies of Paracelsus?<a name="FnAnchor_202" id="FnAnchor_202" href="#Footnote_202"><span class="sp">202</span></a></p> + +<p>They were well convinced of the existence of such elemental +beings; frequent accidents in mines showed the potency of +the metallic spirits, which so tormented the workmen in some +of the German mines by blindness, giddiness, and sudden +sickness, that they have been obliged to abandon mines well +known to be rich in silver. A metallic spirit at one sweep +annihilated twelve miners, who were all found dead together. +The fact was unquestionable; and the safety-lamp was undiscovered.</p> + +<p>Never was a philosophical imagination more beautiful than +that exquisite <i>Palingenesis</i>, as it has been termed from the +Greek, or a regeneration: or rather the apparitions of animals +and plants. Schott, Kircher, Gaffarel, Borelli, Digby, and +the whole of that admirable school, discovered in the ashes +of plants their primitive forms, which were again raised up +by the force of heat. Nothing, they say, perishes in nature; +all is but a continuation, or a revival. The semina of resurrection +are concealed in extinct bodies, as in the blood of +man; the ashes of roses will again revive into roses, though +smaller and paler than if they had been planted; unsubstantial +and unodoriferous, they are not roses which grow on +rose-trees, but their delicate apparitions; and, like apparitions, +they are seen but for a moment! The process of the +<i>Palingenesis</i>, this picture of immortality, is described. These +philosophers having burnt a flower, by calcination disengaged +the salts from its ashes, and deposited them in a glass phial; +a chemical mixture acted on it, till in the fermentation they +assumed a bluish and a spectral hue. This dust, thus excited +by heat, shoots upwards into its primitive forms; by sympathy +the parts unite, and while each is returning to its +destined place, we see distinctly the stalk, the leaves, and +the flower arise; it is the pale spectre of a flower coming +slowly forth from its ashes. The heat passes away, the +magical scene declines, till the whole matter again precipitates +itself into the chaos at the bottom. This vegetable +phoenix lies thus concealed in its cold ashes till the presence +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page288" id="page288"></a>288</span> +of heat produces this resurrection—in its absence it returns +to its death. Thus the dead naturally revive; and a corpse +may give out its shadowy re-animation when not too deeply +buried in the earth. Bodies corrupted in their graves have +risen, particularly the murdered; for murderers are apt to +bury their victims in a slight and hasty manner. Their +salts, exhaled in vapour by means of their fermentation, have +arranged themselves on the surface of the earth, and formed +those phantoms, which at night have often terrified the passing +spectator, as authentic history witnesses. They have +opened the graves of the phantom, and discovered the bleeding +corpse beneath; hence it is astonishing how many ghosts +may be seen at night, after a recent battle, standing over +their corpses! On the same principle, my old philosopher +Gaffarel conjectures on the raining of frogs; but these frogs, +we must conceive, can only be the ghosts of frogs; and +Gaffarel himself has modestly opened this fact by a “peradventure.” +A more satisfactory origin of ghosts modern +philosophy has not afforded.</p> + +<p>And who does not believe in the existence of ghosts? for, +as Dr. More forcibly says—“That there should be so universal +a <i>fame</i> and <i>fear</i> of that which never was, nor is, nor +can be ever in the world, is to me the greatest miracle of all. +If there had not been, at some time or other, true miracles, +it had not been so easy to impose on the people by false. +The alchemist would never go about to sophisticate metals to +pass them off for true gold and silver, unless that such a thing +was acknowledged as true gold and silver in the world.”</p> + +<p>The pharmacopœia of those times combined more of morals +with medicine than our own. They discovered that the agate +rendered a man eloquent and even witty; a laurel leaf placed +on the centre of the skull fortified the memory; the brains +of fowls and birds of swift wing wonderfully helped the +imagination. All such specifics have now disappeared, and +have greatly reduced the chances of an invalid recovering +that which perhaps he never possessed. Lentils and rape-seed +were a certain cure for the small-pox, and very obviously—their +grains resembling the spots of this disease. They +discovered that those who lived on “fair” plants became fair, +those on fruitful ones were never barren: on the principle +that Hercules acquired his mighty strength by feeding on +the marrow of lions. But their talismans, provided they +were genuine, seem to have been wonderfully operative; and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page289" id="page289"></a>289</span> +had we the same confidence, and melted down the guineas +we give physicians, engraving on them talismanic figures, I +would answer for the good effects of the experiment. Naudé, +indeed, has utterly ridiculed the occult virtues of talismans, +in his defence of Virgil, accused of being a magician: the +poet, it seems, cast into a well a talisman of a horse-leech, +graven on a plate of gold, to drive away the great number of +horse-leeches which infested Naples. Naudé positively denies +that talismans ever possessed any such occult virtues: Gaffarel +regrets that so judicious a man as Naudé should have gone +this length, giving the lie to so many authentic authors; and +Naudé’s paradox is indeed as strange as his denial; he suspects +the thing is not true because it is so generally told! +“It leads one to suspect,” says he, “as animals are said to +have been driven away from so many places by these talismans, +whether they were ever driven from any one place.” +Gaffarel, suppressing by his good temper his indignant feelings +at such reasoning, turns the paradox on its maker:—“As +if, because of the great number of battles that Hannibal +is reported to have fought with the Romans, we might not, +by the same reason, doubt whether he fought any one with +them.” The reader must be aware that the strength of the +argument lies entirely with the firm believer in talismans. +Gaffarel, indeed, who passed his days in collecting “Curiosités +inouïes,” is a most authentic historian of unparalleled events, +even in his own times! Such as that heavy rain in Poitou, +which showered down “petites bestioles,” little creatures like +bishops with their mitres, and monks with their capuchins +over their heads; it is true, afterwards they all turned into +butterflies!</p> + +<p>The museums, the cabinets, and the inventions of our +early virtuosi were the baby-houses of philosophers. Baptista +Porta, Bishop Wilkins, and old Ashmole, were they now +living, had been enrolled among the quiet members of “The +Society of Arts,” instead of flying in the air, collecting “a +wing of the phœnix, as tradition goes;” or catching the disjointed +syllables of an old doting astrologer. But these early +dilettanti had not derived the same pleasure from the useful +inventions of the aforesaid “Society of Arts” as they received +from what Cornelius Agrippa, in a fit of spleen, calls “things +vain and superfluous, invented to no other end but for pomp +and idle pleasure.” Baptista Porta was more skilful in the +mysteries of art and nature than any man in his day. Having +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page290" id="page290"></a>290</span> +founded the Academy <i>degli Oziosi</i>, he held an inferior association +in his own house, called <i>di Secreti</i>, where none was +admitted but those elect who had communicated some <i>secret</i>; +for, in the early period of modern art and science, the slightest +novelty became a secret, not to be confided to the uninitiated. +Porta was unquestionably a fine genius, as his works still +show; but it was his misfortune that he attributed his own +penetrating sagacity to his skill in the art of divination. He +considered himself a prognosticator; and, what was more unfortunate, +some eminent persons really thought he was. +Predictions and secrets are harmless, provided they are not +believed: but his Holiness finding Porta’s were, warned him +that magical sciences were great hindrances to the study of +the Bible, and paid him the compliment to forbid his prophesying. +Porta’s genius was now limited to astonish, and +sometimes to terrify, the more ingenious part of <i>I Secreti</i>. +On entering his cabinet, some phantom of an attendant was +sure to be hovering in the air, moving as he who entered +moved; or he observed in some mirror that his face was +twisted on the wrong side of his shoulders, and did not quite +think that all was right when he clapped his hand on it; or +passing through a darkened apartment a magical landscape +burst on him, with human beings in motion, the boughs of +trees bending, and the very clouds passing over the sun; or +sometimes banquets, battles, and hunting-parties were in the +same apartment. “All these spectacles my friends have witnessed!” +exclaims the self-delighted Baptista Porta. When +his friends drank wine out of the same cup which he had +used, they were mortified with wonder; for he drank wine, +and they only water! or on a summer’s day, when all complained +of the sirocco, he would freeze his guests with cold +air in the room; or, on a sudden, let off a flying dragon to +sail along with a cracker in its tail, and a cat tied on his +back; shrill was the sound, and awful was the concussion; so +that it required strong nerves, in an age of apparitions and +devils, to meet this great philosopher when in his best +humour. Albertus Magnus entertained the Earl of Holland, +as that earl passed through Cologne, in a severe winter, with +a warm summer scene, luxuriant in fruits and flowers. The +fact is related by Trithemius—and this magical scene connected +with his vocal head, and his books <i>De Secretis Mulierum</i>, +and <i>De Mirabilibus</i>, confirmed the accusations they +raised against the great Albert for being a magician. His +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page291" id="page291"></a>291</span> +apologist, Theophilus Raynaud, is driven so hard to defend +Albertus, that he at once asserts the winter changed to summer +and the speaking head to be two infamous flams! He +will not believe these authenticated facts, although he credits +a miracle which proves the sanctity of Albertus,—after three +centuries, the body of Albert the Great remained as sweet as +ever!</p> + +<p>“Whether such enchauntments,” as old Mandeville cautiously +observeth, two centuries preceding the days of Porta, +were “by craft or by nygromancye, I wot nere.” But that +they were not unknown to Chaucer, appears in his “Frankelein’s +Tale,” where, minutely describing them, he communicates +the same pleasure he must himself have received from +the ocular illusions of “the Tregetoure,” or “Jogelour.” +Chaucer ascribes the miracle to a “naturall magique!” in +which, however, it was as unsettled whether the “Prince of +Darkness” was a party concerned.</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>For I am siker that there be sciences</p> +<p>By which men maken divers apparences</p> +<p>Swiche as thise subtil tregetoures play.</p> +<p>For oft at festes have I wel herd say</p> +<p>That tregetoures, within an halle large,</p> +<p>Have made come in a water and a barge,</p> +<p>And in the halle rowen up and doun.</p> +<p>Sometime hath semed come a grim leoun,</p> +<p>And sometime floures spring as in a mede,</p> +<p>Sometime a vine and grapes white and rede,</p> +<p>Sometime a castel al of lime and ston,</p> +<p>And whan hem liketh voideth it anon:</p> +<p>Thus semeth it to every mannes sight.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Bishop Wilkins’s museum was visited by Evelyn, who +describes the sort of curiosities which occupied and amused +the children of science. “Here, too, there was a hollow +statue, which gave a voice, and uttered words by a long concealed +pipe that went to its mouth, whilst one speaks through +it at a good distance:” a circumstance which, perhaps, they +were not then aware revealed the whole mystery of the ancient +oracles, which they attributed to demons rather than to +tubes, pulleys, and wheels. The learned Charles Patin, in +his scientific travels, records, among other valuable productions +of art, a cherry-stone, on which were engraven about a +dozen and a half of portraits! Even the greatest of human +geniuses, Leonardo da Vinci, to attract the royal patronage, +created a lion which ran before the French monarch, dropping +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page292" id="page292"></a>292</span> +<i>fleurs de lis</i> from its shaggy breast. And another philosopher +who had a spinnet which played and stopped at command, +might have made a revolution in the arts and sciences, had +the half-stifled child that was concealed in it not been forced, +unluckily, to crawl into daylight, and thus it was proved that +a philosopher might be an impostor!</p> + +<p>The arts, as well as the sciences, at the first institution of +the Royal Society, were of the most amusing class. The +famous Sir Samuel Moreland had turned his house into an +enchanted palace. Everything was full of devices, which +showed art and mechanism in perfection: his coach carried a +travelling kitchen; for it had a fire-place and grate, with +which he could make a soup, broil cutlets, and roast an egg; +and he dressed his meat by clock-work. Another of these +virtuosi, who is described as “a gentleman of superior order, +and whose house was a knickknackatory,” valued himself on +his multifarious inventions, but most in “sowing salads in the +morning, to be cut for dinner.” The house of Winstanley, +who afterwards raised the first Eddystone lighthouse, must +have been the wonder of the age. If you kicked aside an old +slipper, purposely lying in your way, up started a ghost before +you; or if you sat down in a certain chair, a couple of gigantic +arms would immediately clasp you in. There was an arbour in +the garden, by the side of a canal; you had scarcely seated yourself +when you were sent out afloat to the middle of the canal—from +whence you could not escape till this man of art and +science wound you up to the arbour. What was passing at the +“Royal Society” was also occurring at the “Académie des +Sciences” at Paris. A great and gouty member of that philosophical +body, on the departure of a stranger, would point +to his legs, to show the impossibility of conducting him to +the door; yet the astonished visitor never failed finding the +virtuoso waiting for him on the outside, to make his final +bow! While the visitor was going down stairs, this inventive +genius was descending with great velocity in a machine +from the window: so that he proved, that if a man of science +cannot force nature to walk down stairs, he may drive her +out at the window!</p> + +<p>If they travelled at home, they set off to note down prodigies. +Dr. Plott, in a magnificent project of journeying +through England, for the advantage of “Learning and +Trade,” and the discovery of “Antiquities and other Curiosities,” +for which he solicited the royal aid which Leland enjoyed, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page293" id="page293"></a>293</span> +among other notable designs, discriminates a class +thus: “Next I shall inquire of animals; and first of strange +people.”—“Strange accidents that attend corporations or +families, as that the deans of Rochester ever since the foundation +by turns have died deans and bishops; the bird with a +white breast that haunts the family of Oxenham near Exeter +just before the death of any of that family; the bodies of +trees that are seen to swim in a pool near Brereton in +Cheshire, a certain warning to the heir of that honourable +family to prepare for the next world.” And such remarkables +as “Number of children, such as the Lady Temple, who before +she died saw seven hundred descended from her.”<a name="FnAnchor_203" id="FnAnchor_203" href="#Footnote_203"><span class="sp">203</span></a> This +fellow of the Royal Society, who lived nearly to 1700, was +requested to give an edition of Pliny: we have lost the benefit +of a most copious commentary! Bishop Hall went to +“the Spa.” The wood about that place was haunted not +only by “freebooters, but by wolves and witches; although +these last are ofttimes but one.” They were called <i>loups-garoux</i>; +and the Greeks, it seems, knew them by the name +of <span class="grk" title="lukanthrôpoi">λυκάνθρωποι</span>, men-wolves: witches that have put on the +shapes of those cruel beasts. “We sawe a boy there, whose +half-face was devoured by one of them near the village; yet +so, as that the eare was rather cut than bitten off.” Rumour +had spread that the boy had had half his face devoured; +when it was examined, it turned out that his ear had only +been scratched! However, there can be no doubt of the existence +of “witch-wolves;” for Hall saw at Limburgh “one +of those miscreants executed, who confessed on the wheel to +have devoured two-and-forty children in that form.” They +would probably have found it difficult to have summoned the +mothers who had lost the children. But observe our philosopher’s +reasoning: “It would aske a large volume to scan +this problem of <i>lycanthropy</i>.” He had laboriously collected +all the evidence, and had added his arguments: the result +offers a curious instance of acute reasoning on a wrong +principle.<a name="FnAnchor_204" id="FnAnchor_204" href="#Footnote_204"><span class="sp">204</span></a></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page294" id="page294"></a>294</span></p> + +<p>Men of science and art then passed their days in a bustle +of the marvellous. I will furnish a specimen of philosophical +correspondence in a letter to old John Aubrey. The writer +betrays the versatility of his curiosity by very opposite discoveries. +“My hands are so full of work that I have no +time to transcribe for Dr. Henry More an account of the +Barnstable apparition—Lord Keeper North would take it +kindly from you—give a sight of this letter from Barnstable +to Dr. Whitchcot.” He had lately heard of a Scotchman +who had been carried by fairies into France; but the purpose +of his present letter is to communicate other sort of apparitions +than the ghost of Barnstable. He had gone to Glastonbury, +“to pick up a few berries from the holy thorn which +flowered every Christmas day.”<a name="FnAnchor_205" id="FnAnchor_205" href="#Footnote_205"><span class="sp">205</span></a> The original thorn had +been cut down by a military saint in the civil wars; but the +trade of the place was not damaged, for they had contrived +not to have a single holy thorn, but several, “by grafting and +inoculation.”<a name="FnAnchor_206" id="FnAnchor_206" href="#Footnote_206"><span class="sp">206</span></a> He promises to send these “berries;” but +requests Aubrey to inform “that person of quality who had +rather have a <i>bush</i>, that it was impossible to get one for +him. I am told,” he adds, “that there is a person about +Glastonbury who hath a nursery of them, which he sells for +a crown a piece,” but they are supposed not to be “of the +right kind.”</p> + +<p>The main object of this letter is the writer’s “suspicion of +gold in this country;” for which he offers three reasons. +Tacitus says there was gold in England, and that Agrippa +came to a spot where he had a prospect of Ireland—from +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page295" id="page295"></a>295</span> +which place he writes; secondly, that “an honest man” had +in this spot found stones from which he had extracted good +gold, and that he himself “had seen in the broken stones a +clear appearance of gold;” and thirdly, “there is a story +which goes by tradition in that part of the country, that in +the hill alluded to there was a door into a hole, that when +any wanted money they used to go and knock there, that a +woman used to appear, and give to such as came.<a name="FnAnchor_207" id="FnAnchor_207" href="#Footnote_207"><span class="sp">207</span></a> At a +time one by greediness or otherwise gave her offence, she +flung to the door, and delivered this old saying, still remembered +in the country:</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>‘When all <i>the Daws</i> be gone and dead,</p> +<p>Then.... Hill shall shine gold red.’</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">My fancy is, that this relates to an ancient family of this +name, of which there is now but one man left, and he not +likely to have any issue.” These are his three reasons; and +some mines have perhaps been opened with no better ones! +But let us not imagine that this great naturalist was credulous; +for he tells Aubrey that “he thought it was but a +monkish tale forged in the abbey so famous in former time; +but as I have learned not to despise our forefathers, I question +whether this may not refer to some rich mine in the hill, +formerly in use, but now lost. I shall shortly request you to +discourse with my lord about it, to have advice, &c. In the +mean time it will be best to <i>keep all private</i> for his majesty’s +service, his lordship’s, and perhaps some private person’s +benefit.” But he has also positive evidence: “A mason not +long ago coming to the renter of the abbey for a freestone, +and sawing it, out came divers pieces of gold of £3 10<i>s.</i> +value apiece, of ancient <i>coins</i>. The stone belonged to some +chimney-work; the gold was hidden in it, perhaps, when the +Dissolution was near.” This last incident of finding coins in +a chimney-piece, which he had accounted for very rationally, +serves only to confirm his dream, that they were coined out +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page296" id="page296"></a>296</span> +of the gold of the mine in the hill; and he becomes more +urgent for “a private search into these mines, which I have, I +think, a way to.” In the postscript he adds an account of +a well, which by washing, wrought a cure on a person deep +in the king’s evil. “I hope you don’t forget your promise +to communicate whatever thing you have relating to your +<span class="sc">Idea</span>.”</p> + +<p>This promised <i>Idea</i> of Aubrey may be found in his MSS., +under the title of “The Idea of Universal Education.” However +whimsical, one would like to see it. Aubrey’s life might +furnish a volume of these philosophical dreams: he was a +person who from his incessant bustle and insatiable curiosity +was called “The Carrier of Conceptions of the Royal Society.” +Many pleasant nights were “privately” enjoyed by Aubrey +and his correspondent about the “Mine in the Hill;” Ashmole’s +manuscripts at Oxford contain a collection of many +secrets of the Rosicrucians; one of the completest inventions +is “a Recipe how to walk invisible.” Such were the fancies +which rocked the children of science in their cradles! and so +feeble were the steps of our curious infancy!—But I start +in my dreams! dreading the reader may also have fallen +asleep!</p> + +<p>“Measure is most excellent,” says one of the oracles; +“to which also we being in like manner persuaded, O most +friendly and pious Asclepiades, here finish”—the dreams at +the dawn of philosophy!</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_197" id="Footnote_197" href="#FnAnchor_197"><span class="fn">197</span></a> Godwin’s amusing <i>Lives of the Necromancers</i> abound in marvellous +stories of the supernatural feats of these old students.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_198" id="Footnote_198" href="#FnAnchor_198"><span class="fn">198</span></a> Agrippa was the most fortunate and honoured of occult philosophers. +He was lodged at courts, and favoured by all his contemporaries. Scholars +like Erasmus spoke of him with admiration; and royalty constantly +sought his powers of divination. But in advanced life he was accused of +sorcery, and died poor in 1534.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_199" id="Footnote_199" href="#FnAnchor_199"><span class="fn">199</span></a> One of the most popular of our old English prose romances, “The Historie +of Fryer Bacon,” narrates how he had intended to “wall England about +with brass,” by means of such a brazen head, had not the stupidity of a +servant prevented him. The tale may be read in Thoms’ “Collection of +Early English Prose Romances.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_200" id="Footnote_200" href="#FnAnchor_200"><span class="fn">200</span></a> The allusion here is to the automaton chess-player, first exhibited by +Kempelen (its inventor) in England about 1785. The figure was habited +as a Turk, and placed behind a chest, this was opened by the exhibitor +to display the machinery, which seemed to give the figure motion, while +playing intricate games of chess with any of the spectators. But it has +been fully demonstrated that this chest could conceal a full-grown man, +who could place his arm down that of the figure, and direct its movements +in the game; the machinery being really constructed to hide him, and disarm +suspicion. As the whole trick has been demonstrated by diagrams, +the marvellous nature of the machinery is exploded.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_201" id="Footnote_201" href="#FnAnchor_201"><span class="fn">201</span></a> This brass duck was the work of a very ingenious mechanist, M. Vaucanson; +it is reported to have uttered its natural voice, moved its wings, +drank water, and ate corn. In 1738, he delighted the Parisians by a +figure of a shepherd which played on a pipe and beat a tabor; and a flute-player +who performed twelve tunes.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_202" id="Footnote_202" href="#FnAnchor_202"><span class="fn">202</span></a> This great charlatan, after many successful impositions, ended his +life in poverty in the hospital at Saltzbourg, in 1541.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_203" id="Footnote_203" href="#FnAnchor_203"><span class="fn">203</span></a> Similar popular fallacies may be seen carefully noted in R. Burton’s +“Admirable Curiosities, Rarities, and Wonders in England, Scotland, and +Ireland,” 1684. It is one of those curious volumes of “folk-lore” sent +out by Nat. Crouch the bookseller, under a fictitious name.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_204" id="Footnote_204" href="#FnAnchor_204"><span class="fn">204</span></a> Hall’s postulate is, that God’s work could not admit of any substantial +change, which is above the reach of all infernal powers; but “Herein +the divell plays the double sophister; the sorcerer with sorcerers. Hee +both deludes the witch’s conceit and the beholder’s eyes.” In a word, Hall +believes in what he cannot understand! Yet Hall will not believe one of +the Catholic miracles of “the Virgin of Louvain,” though Lipsius had +written a book to commemorate “the goddess,” as Hall sarcastically calls +her. Hall was told, with great indignation, in the shop of the bookseller +of Lipsius, that when James the First had just looked over this work, he +flung it down, vociferating “Damnation to him that made it, and to him +that believes it!”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_205" id="Footnote_205" href="#FnAnchor_205"><span class="fn">205</span></a> Thousands flocked to see this “miracle” in the middle ages, and their +presence brought great wealth to the abbey. It was believed to have grown +miraculously from the staff used by St. Joseph. It appears to have been +brought from Palestine, and merely to have flowered in accordance with +its natural season, though differing with ours.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_206" id="Footnote_206" href="#FnAnchor_206"><span class="fn">206</span></a> Taylor, the water poet, in his “Wonders of the West,” 1649, says +that a slip was preserved by a vintner dwelling at Glastonbury, when the +soldiers cut down the tree; that he set it in his garden, “and he with others +did tell me that the same doth likewise bloom on the 25th day of December, +yearly.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_207" id="Footnote_207" href="#FnAnchor_207"><span class="fn">207</span></a> Many of these tales of treasures in hills, are now reduced to the simple +facts of discoveries being made of coins and personal ornaments, in +tumuli of Roman and Saxon settlers in England. In the British Museum +is a gold breastplate found in a grave at Mold, in Flintshire. The grave-hills +of Bohemia have furnished the museum at Vienna with a large number +of gold objects of great size and value. In Russia the dead have been +found placed between large plates of pure gold in the centre of such tumuli; +and in Ireland very large and valuable gold personal ornaments have been +frequently found in grave-hills.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>ON PUCK THE COMMENTATOR.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Literary</span> forgeries recently have been frequently indulged +in, and it is urged that they are of an innocent nature; but +impostures more easily practised than detected leave their +mischief behind, to take effect at a distant period; and as I +shall show, may entrap even the judicious! It may require +no high exertion of genius to draw up a grave account of an +ancient play-wright whose name has never reached us, or to +give an extract from a volume inaccessible to our inquiries +and, as dulness is no proof of spuriousness, forgeries, in time, +mix with authentic documents.<a name="FnAnchor_208" id="FnAnchor_208" href="#Footnote_208"><span class="sp">208</span></a></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page297" id="page297"></a>297</span></p> + +<p>We have ourselves witnessed versions of Spanish and Portuguese +poets, which are passed on their unsuspicious readers +without difficulty, but in which no parts of the pretended +originals can be traced; and to the present hour, whatever +antiquaries may affirm, the poems of Chatterton<a name="FnAnchor_209" id="FnAnchor_209" href="#Footnote_209"><span class="sp">209</span></a> and Ossian<a name="FnAnchor_210" id="FnAnchor_210" href="#Footnote_210"><span class="sp">210</span></a> +are veiled in mystery!</p> + +<p>If we possessed the secret history of the literary life of +George Steevens, it would display an unparalleled series of +arch deception and malicious ingenuity. He has been happily +characterised by Gifford as “the Puck of Commentators!” +Steevens is a creature so spotted over with literary forgeries +and adulterations, that any remarkable one about the time he +flourished may be attributed to him. They were the habits +of a depraved mind, and there was a darkness in his character +many shades deeper than belonged to Puck; even in the playfulness +of his invention there was usually a turn of personal +malignity, and the real object was not so much to raise a +laugh, as to “grin horribly a ghastly smile,” on the individual. +It is more than rumoured that he carried his ingenious +malignity into the privacies of domestic life; and it is +to be regretted that Mr. Nichols, who might have furnished +much secret history of this extraordinary literary forger, has, +from delicacy, mutilated his collective vigour.</p> + +<p>George Steevens usually commenced his operations by +opening some pretended discovery in the evening papers, +which were then of a more literary cast than they are at present; +the <i>St. James’s Chronicle</i>, the <i>General Evening Post</i>, +or the <i>Whitehall</i>, were they not dead in body and in spirit, +would now bear witness to his successful efforts. The late +Mr. Boswell told me, that Steevens frequently wrote notes on +Shakspeare, purposely to mislead or entrap Malone, and obtain +for himself an easy triumph in the next edition! Steevens +loved to assist the credulous in getting up for them some +strange new thing, dancing them about with a Will-o’-the-wisp—now +alarming them by a shriek of laughter! and now +like a grinning Pigwigging sinking them chin-deep into a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page298" id="page298"></a>298</span> +quagmire! Once he presented them with a fictitious portrait +of Shakspeare, and when the brotherhood were sufficiently +divided in their opinions, he pounced upon them with a demonstration, +that every portrait of Shakspeare partook of the +same doubtful authority! Steevens usually assumed a <i>nom +de guerre</i> of Collins, a pseudo-commentator, and sometimes of +Amner, who was discovered to be an obscure puritanic minister +who never read text or notes of a play-wright, whenever he +explored into a “thousand notable secrets” with which he has +polluted the pages of Shakspeare! The marvellous narrative +of the upas-tree of Java, which Darwin adopted in his plan of +“enlisting imagination under the banner of science,” appears +to have been another forgery which amused our “Puck.” It +was first given in the <i>London Magazine</i>, as an extract from a +Dutch traveller, but the extract was never discovered in the +original author, and “the effluvia of this noxious tree, which +through a district of twelve or fourteen miles had killed all +vegetation, and had spread the skeletons of men and animals, +affording a scene of melancholy beyond what poets have +described, or painters delineated,” is perfectly chimerical. A +splendid flim-flam! When Dr. Berkenhout was busied in +writing, without much knowledge or skill, a history of our +English authors, Steevens allowed the good man to insert a +choice letter by George Peele, giving an account of a “merry +meeting at the Globe,” wherein Shakspeare said Ben Jonson +and Ned Alleyne are admirably made to perform their respective +parts. As the nature of the “Biographia Literaria” +required authorities, Steevens ingeniously added, “Whence I +copied this letter I do not recollect.” However, he well knew +it came from the “Theatrical Mirror,” where he had first deposited +the precious original, to which he had unguardedly +ventured to affix the date of 1600; unluckily, Peele was discovered +to have died two years before he wrote his own letter! +The <i>date</i> is adroitly dropped in Berkenhout! Steevens did +not wish to refer to his original, which I have often seen +quoted as authority. One of these numerous forgeries of our +Puck appears in an article in Isaac Reed’s catalogue, art. 8708. +“The Boke of the Soldan, conteyninge strange matters +touchynge his lyfe and deathe, and the ways of his course, in +two partes, 12mo,” with this marginal note by Reed—“The +foregoing was written by George Steevens, Esq., from whom I +received it. It was composed merely to impose on ‘a literary +friend,’ and had its effect; for he was so far deceived as to its +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page299" id="page299"></a>299</span> +authenticity, that he gave implicit credit to it, and put down +the person’s name in whose possession the original books were +supposed to be.”</p> + +<p>One of the sort of inventions which I attribute to Steevens +has been got up with a deal of romantic effect, to embellish +the poetical life of Milton; and unquestionably must +have sadly perplexed his last matter-of-fact editor, who is not +a man to comprehend a flim-flam!—for he has sanctioned the +whole fiction, by preserving it in his biographical narrative! +The first impulse of Milton to travel in Italy is ascribed to +the circumstance of his having been found asleep at the foot +of a tree in the vicinity of Cambridge, when two foreign +ladies, attracted by the loveliness of the youthful poet, +alighted from their carriage, and having admired him for +some time as they imagined unperceived, the youngest, who +was very beautiful, drew a pencil from her pocket, and +having written some lines, put the paper with her trembling +hand into his own! But it seems,—for something was to +account how the sleeping youth could have been aware of +these minute particulars, unless he had been dreaming them,—that +the ladies had been observed at a distance by some +friends of Milton, and they explained to him the whole silent +adventure. Milton on opening the paper read <i>four verses</i> +from Guarini, addressed to those “human stars,” his own +eyes! On this romantic adventure, Milton set off for Italy, +to discover the fair “incognita,” to which undiscovered lady +we are told we stand indebted for the most impassioned +touches in the Paradise Lost! We know how Milton passed +his time in Italy, with Dati, and Gaddi, and Frescobaldi, and +other literary friends, amidst its academies, and often busied +in book-collecting. Had Milton’s tour in Italy been an adventure +of knight-errantry, to discover a lady whom he had +never seen, at least he had not the merit of going out of the +direct road to Florence and Rome, nor of having once alluded +to this <i>Dame de ses pensées</i>, in his letters or inquiries among +his friends, who would have thought themselves fortunate to +have introduced so poetical an adventure in the numerous +<i>canzoni</i> they showered on our youthful poet.</p> + +<p>This <i>historiette</i>, scarcely fitted for a novel, first appeared +where generally Steevens’s literary amusements were carried +on, in the <i>General Evening Post</i>, or the <i>St. James’s Chronicle</i>: +and Mr. Todd, in the improved edition of Milton’s +Life, obtained this spurious original, where the reader may +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page300" id="page300"></a>300</span> +find it; but the more curious part of the story remains to be +told. Mr. Todd proceeds, “The preceding highly-coloured +relation, however, is <i>not singular</i>; my friend, Mr. Walker, +points out to me a counterpart in the extract from the preface +to <i>Poésies de Marguerite-Eleanore Clotilde, depuis +Madame de Surville, Poète François du XV. Siècle. Paris, +1803</i>.”</p> + +<p>And true enough we find among “the family traditions” +of the same Clotilde, that Justine de Levis, great-grandmother +of this unknown poetess of the fifteenth century, +walking in a forest, witnessed the same beautiful <i>spectacle</i> +which the Italian Unknown had at Cambridge; never was +such an impression to be effaced, and she could not avoid +leaving her tablets by the side of the beautiful sleeper, declaring +her passion in her tablets by <i>four Italian verses</i>! +The very number our Milton had meted to him! Oh! these +<i>four</i> verses! they are as fatal in their <i>number</i> as the <i>date</i> of +Peele’s letter proved to George Steevens! Something still +escapes in the most ingenious fabrication which serves to decompose +the materials. It is well our veracious historian +dropped all mention of Guarini—else that would have given +that <i>coup de grace</i>—a fatal anachronism! However, his invention +supplied him with more originality than the adoption +of this story and the <i>four</i> verses would lead us to infer. He +tells us how Petrarch was jealous of the genius of his Clotilde’s +grandmother, and has even pointed out a sonnet +which, “among the traditions of the family,” was addressed +to her! He narrates, that the gentleman, when he fairly +awoke, and had read the “four verses,” set off for Italy, +which he run over till he found Justine, and Justine found +him, at a tournament at Modena! This parallel adventure +disconcerted our two grave English critics—they find a tale +which they wisely judge improbable, and because they discover +the tale copied, they conclude that “it is not singular!” +This knot of perplexity is, however, easily cut +through, if we substitute, which we are fully justified in, +for “Poète du XV. Siècle”—“du XIX. Siècle.” The +“Poésies” of Clotilde are as genuine a fabrication as Chatterton’s; +subject to the same objections, having many ideas +and expressions which were unknown in the language at the +time they are pretended to have been composed, and exhibiting +many imitations of Voltaire and other poets. The present +story of the <span class="sc">four</span> <i>Italian verses</i>, and the beautiful +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page301" id="page301"></a>301</span> +<i>Sleeper</i>, would be quite sufficient evidence of the authenticity +of “the family traditions” of <i>Clotilde, depuis Madame de +Surville</i>, and also of Monsieur De Surville himself; a pretended +editor, who is said to have found by mere accident the +precious manuscript, and while he was copying from the +press, in 1793, these pretty poems, for such they are, of his +<i>grande tante</i>, was shot in the Reign of Terror, and so completely +expired, that no one could ever trace his existence! +The real editor, who we must presume to be the poet, published +them in 1803.</p> + +<p>Such, then, is the history of a literary forgery! A Puck +composes a short romantic adventure, which is quietly thrown +out to the world in a newspaper or a magazine; some collector, +such as the late Mr. Bindley, who procured for Mr. +Todd his original, as idle at least as he is curious, houses the +forlorn fiction—and it enters into literary history! A +French Chatterton picks up the obscure tale, and behold, +astonishes the literary inquirers of the very country whence +the imposture sprung! But the <span class="sc">four</span> <i>Italian verses</i>, and the +<i>Sleeping Youth</i>! Oh! Monsieur Vanderbourg! for that +gentleman is the ostensible editor of Clotilde’s poesies of the +fifteenth century, some ingenious persons are unlucky in this +world! Perhaps one day we may yet discover that this +“romantic adventure” of <i>Milton</i> and <i>Justine de Levis</i> is not +so original as it seems—it may lie hid in the <i>Astrée</i> of +D’Urfé, or some of the long romances of the Scuderies, +whence the English and the French Chattertons may have +drawn it. To such literary inventors we say with Swift:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + + <p class="i2">——— Such are your tricks;</p> +<p>But since you hatch, pray own your chicks!</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Will it be credited that for the enjoyment of a temporary +piece of malice, Steevens would even risk his own reputation +as a poetical critic? Yet this he ventured, by throwing out +of his edition the poems of Shakspeare, with a remarkable +hyper-criticism, that “the strongest act of parliament that +could be framed would fail to compel readers into their service.” +Not only he denounced the sonnets of Shakspeare, +but the sonnet itself, with an absurd question, “What has +truth or nature to do with sonnets?” The secret history of +this unwarrantable mutilation of a great author by his editor +was, as I was informed by the late Mr. Boswell, merely done +to spite his rival commentator Malone, who had taken extraordinary +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page302" id="page302"></a>302</span> +pains in their elucidation. Steevens himself had +formerly reprinted them, but when Malone from these sonnets +claimed for himself one ivy leaf of a commentator’s +pride, behold, Steevens in a rage would annihilate even +Shakspeare himself, that he might gain a triumph over +Malone! In the same spirit, but with more caustic pleasantry, +he opened a controversy with Malone respecting +Shakspeare’s wife! It seems that the poet had forgotten to +mention his wife in his copious will; and his recollection of +Mrs. Shakspeare seems to mark the slightness of his regard, +for he only introduced by an interlineation, a legacy to her of +his “second best bed with the furniture”—and nothing +more! Malone naturally inferred that the poet had forgot +her, and so recollected her as more strongly to mark how +little he esteemed her. He had already, as it is vulgarly expressed, +“cut her off, not indeed with a shilling, but with an +old bed!”<a name="FnAnchor_211" id="FnAnchor_211" href="#Footnote_211"><span class="sp">211</span></a> All this seems judicious, till Steevens asserts the +conjugal affection of the bard, tells us, that the poet having, +when in health, provided for her by settlement, or knowing +that her father had already done so (circumstances entirely +conjectural), he bequeathed to her at his death not <i>merely an +old piece of furniture, but</i>, <span class="sc">perhaps</span>, <i>as a mark of peculiar +tenderness</i>,</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>The very bed that on his bridal night</p> +<p>Received him to the arms of Belvidera!</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Steevens’ severity of satire marked the deep malevolence of +his heart; and Murphy has strongly pourtrayed him in his +address to the <i>Malevoli</i>.</p> + +<p>Such another Puck was Horace Walpole! The King of +Prussia’s “Letter” to Rousseau, and “The Memorial” pretended +to have been signed by noblemen and gentlemen, were +fabrications, as he confesses, only to make mischief. It well +became him, whose happier invention, the Castle of Otranto, +was brought forward in the guise of forgery, so unfeelingly to +have reprobated the innocent inventions of a Chatterton.</p> + +<p>We have Pucks busied among our contemporaries: whoever +shall discover their history will find it copious though +intricate; the malignity at least will exceed tenfold the +merriment.</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_208" id="Footnote_208" href="#FnAnchor_208"><span class="fn">208</span></a> A remarkable instance is afforded in the present work; see the note +to the article on <i>Newspapers</i>, in Vol. I., detailing one which has spread +falsity to an enormous extent throughout our general literature.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_209" id="Footnote_209" href="#FnAnchor_209"><span class="fn">209</span></a> The pretended “antique manuscripts” preserved among the Chatterton +papers in the British Museum, as well as the fac-simile of the +“Yellow Roll,” published in the Cambridge edition of Chatterton’s works, +are, however, so totally unlike the writing of the era to which they purport +to belong, that no doubt need be entertained as to their falsity.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_210" id="Footnote_210" href="#FnAnchor_210"><span class="fn">210</span></a> They are, however, so far determined by the fragments of Gaelic originals, +since published by Scottish antiquaries, that the amplifications of +Macpherson can be detected.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_211" id="Footnote_211" href="#FnAnchor_211"><span class="fn">211</span></a> Mr. Charles Knight, in his edition of Shakspeare, first clearly pointed +out the true nature of the bequest. The great poet’s estates, with the +exception of a copyhold tenement, expressly mentioned in the will, were +freehold. <i>His wife was entitled to dower</i>, or a life interest of one-third of +the proceeds arising from lands or tenements the property of Shakspeare, +and which were of considerable value, she was thus amply provided for by +the clear and undeniable operation of the law of England. Mr. Halliwell +has further proved that such bequests were the constant modes of showing +regard to such relatives as were well provided for by the usual legal course +of events; and he adds, “so far from this bequest being one of slight importance, +and exhibiting small esteem, it was the usual mode of expressing +a mark of great affection.”</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page303" id="page303"></a>303</span></p> +<h3>LITERARY FORGERIES.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">The</span> preceding article has reminded me of a subject by no +means incurious to the lovers of literature. A large volume +might be composed on literary impostors; their modes of +deception, however, were frequently repetitions; particularly +those at the restoration of letters, when there prevailed a +<i>mania</i> for burying spurious antiquities, that they might afterwards +be brought to light to confound their contemporaries. +They even perplex us at the present day. More sinister +forgeries have been performed by Scotchmen, of whom Archibald +Bower, Lauder, and Macpherson, are well known.</p> + +<p>Even harmless impostures by some unexpected accident +have driven an unwary inquirer out of the course. George +Steevens must again make his appearance for a memorable +trick played on the antiquary Gough. This was the famous +tombstone on which was engraved the drinking-horn of +Hardyknute, to indicate his last fatal carouse; for this royal +Dane died drunk! To prevent any doubt, the name, in +Saxon characters, was sufficiently legible. Steeped in pickle +to hasten a precocious antiquity, it was then consigned to the +corner of a broker’s shop, where the antiquarian eye of Gough +often pored on the venerable odds and ends; it perfectly succeeded +on the “Director of the Antiquarian Society.” He +purchased the relic for a trifle, and dissertations of a due size +were preparing for the Archæologia!<a name="FnAnchor_212" id="FnAnchor_212" href="#Footnote_212"><span class="sp">212</span></a> Gough never forgave +himself nor Steevens for this flagrant act of ineptitude. On +every occasion in the <i>Gentleman’s Magazine</i>, when compelled +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page304" id="page304"></a>304</span> +to notice this illustrious imposition, he always struck out his +own name, and muffled himself up under his titular office of +“The Director!” Gough never knew that this “modern +antique” was only a piece of retaliation. In reviewing +Masters’s Life of Baker he found two heads, one scratched +down from painted glass by George Steevens, who would have +passed it off for a portrait of one of our kings. Gough, on +the watch to have a fling at George Steevens, attacked his +graphic performance, and reprobated a portrait which had +nothing human in it! Steevens vowed, that wretched as +Gough deemed his pencil to be, it should make “The +Director” ashamed of his own eyes, and be fairly taken in by +something scratched much worse. Such was the origin of +his adoption of this fragment of a chimney-slab, which I have +seen, and with a better judge wondered at the injudicious +antiquary, who could have been duped by the slight and ill-formed +scratches, and even with a false spelling of the name, +which, however, succeeded in being passed off as a genuine +Saxon inscription: but he had counted on his man.<a name="FnAnchor_213" id="FnAnchor_213" href="#Footnote_213"><span class="sp">213</span></a> The +trick is not so original as it seems. One De Grassis had +engraved on marble the epitaph of a mule, which he buried +in his vineyard: some time after, having ordered a new plantation +on the spot, the diggers could not fail of disinterring +what lay ready for them. The inscription imported that one +Publius Grassus had raised this monument to his mule! De +Grassis gave it out as an odd coincidence of names, and a +prophecy about his own mule! It was a simple joke! The +marble was thrown by, and no more thought of. Several +years after it rose into celebrity, for with the erudite it then +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page305" id="page305"></a>305</span> +passed for an ancient inscription, and the antiquary Poracchi +inserted the epitaph in his work on “Burials.” Thus De +Grassis and his mule, equally respectable, would have come +down to posterity, had not the story by some means got +wind! An incident of this nature is recorded in Portuguese +history, contrived with the intention to keep up the national +spirit, and diffuse hopes of the new enterprise of Vasco de +Gama, who had just sailed on a voyage of discovery to the +Indies. Three stones were discovered near Cintra, bearing in +ancient characters a Latin inscription; a sibylline oracle addressed +prophetically “To the Inhabitants of the West!” +stating that when these three stones shall be found, the +Ganges, the Indus, and the Tagus should exchange their +commodities! This was the pious fraud of a Portuguese +poet, sanctioned by the approbation of the king. When the +stones had lain a sufficient time in the damp earth, so as to +become apparently antique, our poet invited a numerous party +to a dinner at his country-house; in the midst of the entertainment +a peasant rushed in, announcing the sudden discovery +of this treasure! The inscription was placed among +the royal collections as a sacred curiosity! The prophecy +was accomplished, and the oracle was long considered +genuine!</p> + +<p>In such cases no mischief resulted; the annals of mankind +were not confused by spurious dynasties and fabulous chronologies; +but when literary forgeries are published by those +whose character hardly admits of a suspicion that they are +themselves the impostors, the difficulty of assigning a motive +only increases that of forming a decision; to adopt or reject +them may be equally dangerous.</p> + +<p>In this class we must place Annius of Viterbo,<a name="FnAnchor_214" id="FnAnchor_214" href="#Footnote_214"><span class="sp">214</span></a> who published +a pretended collection of historians of the remotest +antiquity, some of whose <i>names</i> had descended to us in the +works of ancient writers, while their works themselves had +been lost. Afterwards he subjoined commentaries to confirm +their authority by passages from known authors. These at +first were eagerly accepted by the learned; the blunders of +the presumed editor, one of which was his mistaking the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page306" id="page306"></a>306</span> +right name of the historian he forged, were gradually detected, +till at length the imposture was apparent! The pretended +originals were more remarkable for their number than their +volume; for the whole collection does not exceed 171 pages, +which lessened the difficulty of the forgery; while the commentaries +which were afterwards published must have been +manufactured at the same time as the text. In favour of +Annius, the high rank he occupied at the Roman Court, his +irreproachable conduct, and his declaration that he had +recovered some of these fragments at Mantua, and that others +had come from Armenia, induced many to credit these +pseudo-historians. A literary war soon kindled; Niceron has +discriminated between four parties engaged in this conflict. +One party decried the whole of the collection as gross +forgeries; another obstinately supported their authenticity; a +third decided that they were forgeries before Annius possessed +them, who was only credulous; while a fourth party considered +them as partly authentic, and ascribed their blunders +to the interpolations of the editor, to increase their importance. +Such as they were, they scattered confusion over the +whole face of history. The false Berosus opens his history +before the deluge, when, according to him, the Chaldeans +through preceding ages had faithfully preserved their historical +evidences! Annius hints, in his commentary, at the +archives and public libraries of the Babylonians: the days of +Noah comparatively seemed modern history with this dreaming +editor. Some of the fanciful writers of Italy were duped: +Sansovino, to delight the Florentine nobility, accommodated +them with a new title of antiquity in their ancestor Noah, +<i>Imperatore e monarcha delle genti, visse e morì in quelle parti.</i> +The Spaniards complained that in forging these fabulous +origins of different nations, a new series of kings from +the ark of Noah had been introduced by some of their rhodomontade +historians to pollute the sources of their history. +Bodin’s otherwise valuable works are considerably injured by +Annius’s supposititious discoveries. One historian died of +grief, for having raised his elaborate speculations on these +fabulous originals; and their credit was at length so much +reduced, that Pignori and Maffei both announced to their +readers that they had not referred in their works to the pretended +writers of Annius! Yet, to the present hour, these +presumed forgeries are not always given up. The problem +remains unsolved—and the silence of the respectable Annius, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page307" id="page307"></a>307</span> +in regard to the forgery, as well as what he affirmed when +alive, leave us in doubt whether he really intended to laugh +at the world by these fairy tales of the giants of antiquity. +Sanchoniathon, as preserved by Eusebius, may be classed +among these ancient writings or forgeries, and has been +equally rejected and defended.</p> + +<p>Another literary forgery, supposed to have been grafted on +those of Annius, involved the Inghirami family. It was by +digging in their grounds that they discovered a number of +Etruscan antiquities, consisting of inscriptions, and also fragments +of a chronicle, pretended to have been composed sixty +years before the vulgar era. The characters on the marbles +were the ancient Etruscan, and the historical work tended to +confirm the pretended discoveries of Annius. They were +collected and enshrined in a magnificent folio by Curtius +Inghirami, who, a few years after, published a quarto volume +exceeding one thousand pages to support their authenticity. +Notwithstanding the erudition of the forger, these monuments +of antiquity betrayed their modern condiment.<a name="FnAnchor_215" id="FnAnchor_215" href="#Footnote_215"><span class="sp">215</span></a> There +were uncial letters which no one knew; but these were said +to be undiscovered ancient Etruscan characters; it was more +difficult to defend the small italic letters, for they were not used +in the age assigned to them; besides that, there were dots on +the letter <i>i</i>, a custom not practised till the eleventh century. +The style was copied from the Latin of the Psalms and the +Breviary; but Inghirami discovered that there had been an +intercourse between the Etruscans and the Hebrews, and that +David had imitated the writings of Noah and his descendants! +Of Noah the chronicle details speeches and anecdotes!</p> + +<p>The Romans, who have preserved so much of the Etruscans, +had not, however, noticed a single fact recorded in these +Etruscan antiquities. Inghirami replied that the manuscript +was the work of the secretary of the college of the Etrurian +augurs, who alone was permitted to draw his materials from +the archives, and who, it would seem, was the only scribe +who has favoured posterity with so much secret history. It +was urged in favour of the authenticity of these Etruscan +monuments, that Inghirami was so young an antiquary at +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page308" id="page308"></a>308</span> +the time of the discovery, that he could not even explain +them; and that when fresh researches were made on the +spot, other similar monuments were also disinterred, where +evidently they had long lain; the whole affair, however contrived, +was confined to the <i>Inghirami family</i>. One of them, +half a century before, had been the librarian of the Vatican, +and to him is ascribed the honour of the forgeries which he +buried where he was sure they would be found. This, however, +is a mere conjecture! Inghirami, who published and +defended their authenticity, was not concerned in their fabrication; +the design was probably merely to raise the antiquity +of Volaterra, the family estate of the Inghirami; and for this +purpose one of its learned branches had bequeathed his posterity +a collection of spurious historical monuments, which +tended to overturn all received ideas on the first ages of +history.<a name="FnAnchor_216" id="FnAnchor_216" href="#Footnote_216"><span class="sp">216</span></a></p> + +<p>It was probably such impostures, and those of <i>false decretals +of</i> Isidore, which were forged for the maintenance of +the papal supremacy, and for eight hundred years formed the +fundamental basis of the canon law, the discipline of the +church, and even the faith of Christianity, which led to the +monstrous pyrrhonism of father Hardouin, who, with immense +erudition, had persuaded himself that, excepting the Bible +and Homer, Herodotus, Plautus, Pliny the elder, with fragments +of Cicero, Virgil, and Horace, all the remains of +classical literature were forgeries of the thirteenth and fourteenth +centuries! In two dissertations he imagined that he +had proved that the Æneid was not written by Virgil, nor the +Odes of Horace by that poet. Hardouin was one of those +wrong-headed men who, once having fallen into a delusion, +whatever afterwards occurs to them on their favourite subject +only tends to strengthen it. He died in his own faith! He +seems not to have been aware that by ascribing such prodigal +inventions as Plutarch, Thucydides, Livy, Tacitus, and other +historians, to the men he did, he was raising up an unparalleled +age of learning and genius when monks could only write +meagre chronicles, while learning and genius themselves lay +in an enchanted slumber with a suspension of all their vital +powers.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page309" id="page309"></a>309</span></p> + +<p>There are numerous instances of the forgeries of smaller +documents. The Prayer-book of Columbus, presented to him +by the Pope, which the great discoverer of a new world +bequeathed to the Genoese republic, has a codicil in his own +writing, as one of the leaves testifies, but as volumes composed +against its authenticity deny. The famous description +in Petrarch’s Virgil, so often quoted, of his first <i>rencontre</i> +with Laura in the church of St. Clair on a Good Friday, 6th +April, 1327, it has been recently attempted to be shown is a +forgery. By calculation, it appears that the 6th April, 1327, +fell on a Monday! The Good Friday seems to have been a +blunder of the manufacturer of the note. He was entrapped +by reading the second sonnet, as it appears in the <i>printed</i> +editions!</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Era il giorno ch’ al sol <i>si scolorana</i></p> +<p><i>Per la</i> pietà del suo fattore i rai.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">“It was on the day when the rays of the sun were obscured +by compassion for his Maker.” The forger imagined this +description alluded to Good Friday and the eclipse at the +Crucifixion. But how stands the passage in the MS. in +the Imperial Library of Vienna, which Abbé Costaing has +found?</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Era il giorno ch’ al sol <i>di color raro</i></p> +<p><i>Parve</i> la pietà da suo fattore, <i>ai rai</i></p> +<p>Quand Io fu preso; e non mi guardai</p> +<p>Che ben vostri occhi dentro mi legaro.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">“It was on the day that I was captivated, devotion for its +Maker appeared in the rays of a brilliant sun, and I did not +well consider that it was your eyes that enchained me!”</p> + +<p>The first meeting, according to the Abbé Costaing, was +not in a <i>church</i>, but in a <i>meadow</i>—as appears by the ninety-first +sonnet. The Laura of Sade was <i>not</i> the Laura of +Petrarch, but Laura de Baux, unmarried, and who died +young, residing in the vicinity of Vaucluse. Petrarch had +often viewed her from his own window, and often enjoyed +her society amidst her family.<a name="FnAnchor_217" id="FnAnchor_217" href="#Footnote_217"><span class="sp">217</span></a> If the Abbé Costaing’s discovery +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page310" id="page310"></a>310</span> +be confirmed, the good name of Petrarch is freed from +the idle romantic passion for a married woman. It would be +curious if the famous story of the first meeting with Laura +in the church of St. Clair originated in the blunder of the +forger’s misconception of a passage which was incorrectly +printed, as appears by existing manuscripts!</p> + +<p>Literary forgeries have been introduced into bibliography; +dates have been altered; fictitious titles affixed; and books +have been reprinted, either to leave out or to interpolate +whole passages! I forbear entering minutely into this part +of the history of literary forgery, for this article has already +grown voluminous. When we discover, however, that one +of the most magnificent of <i>amateurs</i>, and one of the most +critical of bibliographers, were concerned in a forgery of this +nature, it may be useful to spread an alarm among collectors. +The Duke de la Vallière, and the Abbé de St. Leger once +concerted together to supply the eager purchaser of literary +rarities with a copy of <i>De Tribus Impostoribus</i>, a book, by +the date, pretended to have been printed in 1598, though +probably a modern forgery of 1698. The title of such a +work had long existed by rumour, but never was a copy seen +by man! Works printed with this title have all been proved +to be modern fabrications. A copy, however, of the <i>introuvable</i> +original was sold at the Duke de la Vallière’s sale! The +history of this volume is curious. The Duke and the Abbé +having manufactured a text, had it printed in the old Gothic +character, under the title, <i>De Tribus Impostoribus</i>. They +proposed to put the great bibliopolist, De Bure, in good +humour, whose agency would sanction the imposture. They +were afterwards to dole out copies at twenty-five louis each, +which would have been a reasonable price for a book which +no one ever saw! They invited De Bure to dinner, flattered +and cajoled him, and, as they imagined, at a moment they +had wound him up to their pitch, they exhibited their manufacture; +the keen-eyed glance of the renowned cataloguer of +the “Bibliographie Instructive” instantly shot like lightning +over it, and, like lightning, destroyed the whole edition. He +not only discovered the forgery, but reprobated it! He +refused his sanction; and the forging Duke and Abbé, in +confusion, suppressed the <i>livre introuvable</i>; but they owed +a grudge to the honest bibliographer, and attempted to +write down the work whence the De Bures derive their +fame.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page311" id="page311"></a>311</span></p> + +<p>Among the extraordinary literary impostors of our age—if +we except Lauder, who, detected by the Ithuriel pen of Bishop +Douglas, lived to make his public recantation of his audacious +forgeries, and Chatterton, who has buried his inexplicable story +in his own grave, a tale, which seems but half told—we must +place a man well known in the literary world under the assumed +name of George Psalmanazar. He composed his autobiography +as the penance of contrition, not to be published +till he was no more, when all human motives have ceased +which might cause his veracity to be suspected. The life is +tedious; but I have curiously traced the progress of the mind +in an ingenious imposture, which is worth preservation. The +present literary forgery consisted of personating a converted +islander of Formosa: a place then little known but by the +reports of the Jesuits, and constructing a language and a +history of a new people and a new religion, entirely of his +own invention! This man was evidently a native of the south +of France; educated in some provincial college of the Jesuits, +where he had heard much of their discoveries of Japan; he had +looked over their maps, and listened to their comments. He +forgot the manner in which the Japanese wrote; but supposed, +like orientalists, they wrote from the right to the left, which +he found difficult to manage. He set about excogitating an +alphabet; but actually forgot to give names to his letters, +which afterwards baffled him before literary men.</p> + +<p>He fell into gross blunders; having inadvertently affirmed +that the Formosans sacrificed eighteen thousand male infants +annually, he persisted in not lessening the number. It was +proved to be an impossibility in so small an island, without +occasioning a depopulation. He had made it a principle in +this imposture never to vary when he had once said a thing. +All this was projected in haste, fearful of detection by those +about him.</p> + +<p>He was himself surprised at his facility of invention, and +the progress of his forgery. He had formed an alphabet, a +considerable portion of a new language, a grammar, a new +division of the year into twenty months, and a new religion! +He had accustomed himself to write his language; but being +an inexpert writer with the unusual way of writing backwards, +he found this so difficult, that he was compelled to +change the complicated forms of some of his letters. He now +finally quitted his home, assuming the character of a Formosan +convert, who had been educated by the Jesuits. He was then +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page312" id="page312"></a>312</span> +in his fifteenth or sixteenth year. To support his new character, +he practised some religious mummeries; he was seen +worshipping the rising and setting sun. He made a prayer-book +with rude drawings of the sun, moon, and stars, to +which he added some gibberish prose and verse, written in his +invented character, muttering or chanting it, as the humour +took him. His custom of eating raw flesh seemed to assist +his deception more than the sun and moon.<a name="FnAnchor_218" id="FnAnchor_218" href="#Footnote_218"><span class="sp">218</span></a></p> + +<p>In a garrison at Sluys he found a Scotch regiment in the +Dutch pay; the commander had the curiosity to invite our +Formosan to confer with Innes, the chaplain to his regiment. +This Innes was probably the chief cause of the imposture being +carried to the extent it afterwards reached. Innes was a +clergyman, but a disgrace to his cloth. As soon as he fixed +his eye on our Formosan, he hit on a project; it was nothing +less than to make Psalmanazar the ladder of his own ambition, +and the stepping-place for him to climb up to a good +living! Innes was a worthless character; as afterwards appeared, +when by an audacious imposition Innes practised on +the Bishop of London, he avowed himself to be the author of +an anonymous work, entitled “A Modest Inquiry after Moral +Virtue;” for this he obtained a good living in Essex: the +real author, a poor Scotch clergyman, obliged him afterwards +to disclaim the work in print, and to pay him the profit of +the edition which Innes had made! He lost his character, +and retired to the solitude of his living; if not penitent, at +least mortified.</p> + +<p>Such a character was exactly adapted to become the foster-father +of imposture. Innes courted the Formosan, and easily +won on the adventurer, who had hitherto in vain sought for +a patron. Meanwhile no time was lost by Innes to inform +the unsuspicious and generous Bishop of London of the prize +he possessed—to convert the Formosan was his ostensible +pretext; to procure preferment his concealed motive. It is +curious enough to observe, that the ardour of conversion died +away in Innes, and the most marked neglect of his convert +prevailed, while the answer of the bishop was protracted or +doubtful. He had at first proposed to our Formosan impostor +to procure his discharge, and convey him to England; this +was eagerly consented to by our pliant adventurer. A few +Dutch schellings, and fair words, kept him in good humour; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page313" id="page313"></a>313</span> +but no letter coming from the bishop, there were fewer words, +and not a stiver! This threw a new light over the character +of Innes to the inexperienced youth. Psalmanazar sagaciously +now turned all his attention to some Dutch ministers; +Innes grew jealous lest they should pluck the bird which he +had already in his net. He resolved to baptize the impostor—which +only the more convinced Psalmanazar that Innes was +one himself; for before this time Innes had practised a stratagem +on him which had clearly shown what sort of a man +his Formosan was.</p> + +<p>This stratagem was this: he made him translate a passage +in Cicero, of some length, into his pretended language, and +give it him in writing; this was easily done, by Psalmanazar’s +facility of inventing characters. After Innes had made him +construe it, he desired to have another version of it on another +paper. The proposal, and the arch manner of making +it, threw our impostor into the most visible confusion. He had +had but a short time to invent the first paper, less to recollect +it; so that in the second transcript not above half the words +were to be found which existed in the first. Innes assumed +a solemn air, and Psalmanazar was on the point of throwing +himself on his mercy, but Innes did not wish to unmask the +impostor; he was rather desirous of fitting the mask closer to +his face. Psalmanazar, in this hard trial, had given evidence +of uncommon facility, combined with a singular memory. +Innes cleared his brow, smiled with a friendly look, and only +hinted in a distant manner that he ought to be careful to be +better provided for the future! An advice which Psalmanazar +afterwards bore in mind, and at length produced the forgery of +an entire new language; and which, he remarkably observes, +“by what I have tried since I came into England, I cannot +say but I could have compassed it with less difficulty than +can be conceived had I applied closely to it.” When a version +of the catechism was made into the pretended Formosan +language, which was submitted to the judgment of the first +scholars, it appeared to them grammatical, and was pronounced +to be a real language, from the circumstance that it resembled +no other! and they could not conceive that a stripling could +be the inventor of a language. If the reader is curious to examine +this extraordinary imposture, I refer him to that literary +curiosity, “An Historical and Geographical Description +of Formosa, with Accounts of the Religion, Customs and Manners +of the Inhabitants, by George Psalmanazar, a Native of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page314" id="page314"></a>314</span> +the said Isle,” 1704; with numerous plates, wretched inventions! +of their dress! religious ceremonies! their tabernacle +and altars to the sun, the moon, and the ten stars! their architecture! +the viceroy’s castle! a temple! a city house! a +countryman’s house! and the Formosan alphabet! In his +conferences before the Royal Society with a Jesuit just returned +from China, the Jesuit had certain strong suspicions +that our hero was an impostor. The good father remained +obstinate in his own conviction, but could not satisfactorily +communicate it to others; and Psalmanazar, after politely asking +pardon for the expression, complains of the Jesuit that +“<span class="sc">he</span> <i>lied most impudently,” mentitur impudentissime!</i> Dr. +Mead absurdly insisted Psalmanazar was a Dutchman or a +German; some thought him a Jesuit in disguise, a tool of +the non-jurors; the Catholics thought him bribed by the +Protestants to expose their church; the Presbyterians that +he was paid to explode their doctrine, and cry up episcopacy! +This fabulous history of Formosa seems to have been projected +by his artful prompter Innes, who put Varenius into +Psalmanazar’s hands to assist him; trumpeted forth in the +domestic and foreign papers an account of this converted Formosan; +maddened the booksellers to hurry the author, who +was scarcely allowed two months to produce this extraordinary +volume; and as the former accounts which the public possessed +of this island were full of monstrous absurdities and +contradictions, these assisted the present imposture. Our +forger resolved not to describe new and surprising things as +they had done, but rather studied to clash with them, probably +that he might have an opportunity of pretending to +correct them. The first edition was immediately sold; the +world was more divided than ever in opinion; in a second +edition he prefixed a vindication!—the unhappy forger got +about twenty guineas for an imposture, whose delusion spread +far and wide! Some years afterwards Psalmanazar was engaged +in a minor imposture; one man had persuaded him to +father a white composition called the <i>Formosan japan!</i> which +was to be sold at a high price! It was curious for its whiteness, +but it had its faults. The project failed, and Psalmanazar +considered the miscarriage of the <i>white Formosan japan</i> as a +providential warning to repent of all his impostures of +Formosa!</p> + +<p>Among these literary forgeries may be classed several ingenious +ones fabricated for a <i>political</i> purpose. We had certainly +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page315" id="page315"></a>315</span> +numerous ones during our civil wars in the reign of +Charles the First. This is not the place to continue the +controversy respecting the mysterious <i>Eikon Basiliké</i>, which +has been ranked among them, from the ambiguous claim of +Gauden.<a name="FnAnchor_219" id="FnAnchor_219" href="#Footnote_219"><span class="sp">219</span></a> A recent writer who would probably incline not +to leave the monarch, were he living, not only his head but +the little fame he might obtain by the “Verses” said to be +written by him at Carisbrook Castle, would deprive him also +of these. Henderson’s death-bed recantation is also reckoned +among them; and we have a large collection of “Letters of +Sir Henry Martin to his Lady of Delight,” which were the +satirical effusions of a wit of that day, but by the price they +have obtained, are probably considered as genuine ones, and +exhibit an amusing picture of his loose rambling life.<a name="FnAnchor_220" id="FnAnchor_220" href="#Footnote_220"><span class="sp">220</span></a> There +is a ludicrous speech of the strange Earl of Pembroke, which +was forged by the inimitable Butler. Sir John Birkenhead, +a great humourist and wit, had a busy pen in these spurious +letters and speeches.<a name="FnAnchor_221" id="FnAnchor_221" href="#Footnote_221"><span class="sp">221</span></a></p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_212" id="Footnote_212" href="#FnAnchor_212"><span class="fn">212</span></a> I have since been informed that this famous invention was originally +a flim-flam of a Mr. Thomas White, a noted collector and dealer in antiquities. +But it was Steevens who placed it in the broker’s shop, where he was +certain of <i>catching</i> the antiquary. When the late Mr. Pegge, a profound +brother, was preparing to write a dissertation on it, the first inventor of +the flam stepped forward to save any further tragical termination; the +wicked wit had already succeeded too well.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_213" id="Footnote_213" href="#FnAnchor_213"><span class="fn">213</span></a> The stone may be found in the British Museum. HARDCNVT is the +reading on the <i>Harthacnut</i> stone; but the true orthography of the name +is HARÐACNVT. It was reported to have been discovered in Kennington-lane, +where the palace of the monarch was said to have been located, and +the inscription carefully made in Anglo-Saxon characters, was to the effect +that “Here Hardcnut drank a wine horn dry, stared about him, and +died.”</p> + +<p>Sylvanus Urban, my once excellent and old friend, seems a trifle uncourteous +on this grave occasion.—He tells us, however, that “The history +of this wanton trick, with a <i>fac-simile</i> of Schnebbelie’s drawing, may be +seen in his volume lx. p. 217.” He says that this wicked contrivance of +George Steevens was to entrap this famous draughtsman! Does Sylvanus +then deny that “the Director” was not also “entrapped?” and that he +always struck out his own <i>name</i> in the proof-sheets of the Magazine, substituting +his official designation, by which the whole society itself seemed +to screen “the Director!”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_214" id="Footnote_214" href="#FnAnchor_214"><span class="fn">214</span></a> He was a Dominican monk, his real name being Giovanni Nanni, +which he Latinized in conformity with the custom of his era. He was born +1432, and died 1502. His great work, <i>Antiquitatem Rariorum</i>, professes +to contain the works of Manetho, Berosus, and other authors of equal +antiquity.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_215" id="Footnote_215" href="#FnAnchor_215"><span class="fn">215</span></a> A forgery of a similar character has been recently effected in the <i>débris</i> +of the Chapelle St. Eloi (Département de L’Eure, France), where many inscriptions +connected with the early history of France were exhumed, which +a deputation of antiquaries, convened to examine their authenticity, have +since pronounced to be forgeries!</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_216" id="Footnote_216" href="#FnAnchor_216"><span class="fn">216</span></a> The volume of these pretended Antiquities is entitled <i>Etruscarum +Antiquitatum Fragmenta, fo. Franc.</i> 1637. That which Inghirami published +to defend their authenticity is in Italian, <i>Discorso sopra l’Opposizioni +fatte all’ Antichita Toscane</i>, 4to, <i>Firenze</i>, 1645.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_217" id="Footnote_217" href="#FnAnchor_217"><span class="fn">217</span></a> I draw this information from a little “new year’s gift,” which my +learned friend, the Rev. S. Weston, presented to his friends in 1822, entitled +“A Visit to Vaucluse,” accompanied by a Supplement. He derives +his account apparently from a curious publication of L’Abbé Costaing de +Pusigner d’Avignon, which I with other inquirers have not been able to +procure, but which it is absolutely necessary to examine, before we can +decide on the very curious but unsatisfactory accounts we have hitherto +possessed of the Laura of Petrarch.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_218" id="Footnote_218" href="#FnAnchor_218"><span class="fn">218</span></a> For some further notices of Psalmanazar and his literary labours, we +may refer the reader to vol. i. p. 137, note.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_219" id="Footnote_219" href="#FnAnchor_219"><span class="fn">219</span></a> The question has been discussed with great critical acumen by Dr. +Wordsworth.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_220" id="Footnote_220" href="#FnAnchor_220"><span class="fn">220</span></a> Since this was published I have discovered that Harry Martin’s Letters +are not forgeries, but I cannot immediately recover my authority.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_221" id="Footnote_221" href="#FnAnchor_221"><span class="fn">221</span></a> One of the most amusing of these tricks was perpetrated on William +Prynne, the well-known puritanic hater of the stage, by some witty cavalier. +Prynne’s great work, “Histriomastix, the Player’s Scourge; or, +Actor’s Tragedy,” an immense quarto, of 1100 pages, was a complete +condemnation of all theatrical amusements; but in 1649 appeared a tract +of four leaves, entitled “Mr. William Prynne, his Defence of Stage +Playes; or, a Retractation of a former Book of his called Histriomastix.” +It must have astonished many readers in his own day, and would have +passed for his work in more modern times, but for the accidental preservation +of a single copy of a handbill Prynne published disclaiming the whole +thing. His style is most amusingly imitated throughout, and his great +love for quoting authorities in his margin. He is made to complain that +“this wicked and tyrannical army did lately in a most inhumane, cruell, +rough, and barbarous manner, take away the poor players from their +houses, being met there to discharge the duty of their callings: as if this +army were fully bent, and most trayterously and maliciously set, to put +down and depresse all the King’s friends, not only in the parliament but +in the very theatres; they have no care of covenant or any thing else.” +And he is further made to declare, in spite of “what the malicious, clamorous, +and obstreperous people” may object, that he once wrote +against stage-plays,—that it was “when I had not so clear a light as now +I have.” We can fancy the amusement this pamphlet must have been to +many readers during the great Civil War.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page316" id="page316"></a>316</span></p> +<h3>OF LITERARY FILCHERS.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">An</span> honest historian at times will have to inflict severe stroke +on his favourites. This has fallen to my lot, for in the course +of my researches, I have to record that we have both forgers +and purloiners, as well as other more obvious impostors, in +the republic of letters! The present article descends to relate +anecdotes of some contrivances to possess our literary +curiosities by other means than by purchase; and the only +apology which can be alleged for the <i>splendida peccata</i>, as St. +Austin calls the virtues of the heathen, of the present innocent +criminals, is their excessive passion for literature, and +otherwise the respectability of their names. According to +Grose’s “Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue,” we +have had celebrated <i>collectors</i>, both in the learned and vulgar +idioms. But one of them, who had some reasons too to be +tender on this point, distinguished this mode of completing +his collections, not by <i>book-stealing</i>, but by <i>book-coveting</i>. +On some occasions, in mercy, we must allow of softening +names. Were not the Spartans allowed to steal from one +another, and the bunglers only punished?</p> + +<p>It is said that Pinelli made occasional additions to his literary +treasures sometimes by his skill in an art which lay +much more in the hand than in the head: however, as Pinelli +never stirred out of his native city but once in his lifetime, +when the plague drove him from home, his field of action was +so restricted, that we can hardly conclude that he could have +been so great an enterpriser in this way. No one can have +lost their character by this sort of exercise in a confined +circle, and be allowed to prosper! A light-fingered Mercury +would hardly haunt the same spot: however, this is as it may +be! It is probable that we owe to this species of accumulation +many precious manuscripts in the Cottonian collection. +It appears by the manuscript note-book of Sir Nicholas Hyde, +chief justice of the King’s Bench from the second to the +seventh year of Charles the First, that Sir Robert Cotton +had in his library, records, evidences, ledger-books, original +letters, and other state papers, belonging to the king; for the +attorney-general of that time, to prove this, showed a copy +of the <i>pardon</i> which Sir Robert had obtained from King +James for <i>embezzling records</i>, &c.<a name="FnAnchor_222" id="FnAnchor_222" href="#Footnote_222"><span class="sp">222</span></a></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page317" id="page317"></a>317</span></p> + +<p>Gough has more than insinuated that Rawlinson and his +friend Umfreville “lie under very strong suspicions;” and he +asserts that the collector of the Wilton treasures made as +free as Dr. Willis with his friend’s coins.<a name="FnAnchor_223" id="FnAnchor_223" href="#Footnote_223"><span class="sp">223</span></a> But he has also +put forth a declaration relating to Bishop More, the famous +collector, that “the bishop collected his library by <i>plundering</i> +those of the clergy in his diocese; some he paid with sermons +or more modern books; others, less civilly, only with a <i>quid +illiterati cum libris?</i>” This <i>plundering</i> then consisted +rather of <i>cajoling</i> others out of what they knew not how to +value; and this is an advantage which every skilful lover of +books must enjoy over those whose apprenticeship has not +expired. I have myself been plundered by a very dear friend +of some such literary curiosities, in the days of my innocence +and of his precocity of knowledge. However, it does appear +that Bishop More did actually lay violent hands in a snug +corner on some irresistible little charmer; which we gather +from a precaution adopted by a friend of the bishop, who one +day was found busy in <i>hiding his rarest books</i>, and locking up +as many as he could. On being asked the reason of this odd +occupation, the bibliopolist ingenuously replied, “The Bishop +of Ely dines with me to-day.” This fact is quite clear, and +here is another as indisputable. 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 that he would be loath to lose it, he +should <i>not let Sir Thomas out of his sight</i>, but set ‘the boke’ +aside beforehand.” A surprise and detection of this nature +has been revealed in a piece of secret history by Amelot de la +Houssaie, which terminated in very important political consequences. +He assures us that the personal dislike which +Pope Innocent X. bore to the French had originated in his +youth, when cardinal, from having been detected in the +library of an eminent French collector, of having purloined +a most rare volume. 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 +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page318" id="page318"></a>318</span> +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—at least their more curious +collectors!</p> + +<p>Even an author on his dying bed, at those awful moments, +should a collector be by his side, may not be considered +secure from his too curious hands. Sir William Dugdale +possessed the minutes of King James’s life, written by Camden, +till within a fortnight of his death; as also Camden’s +own life, which he had from Hacket, the author of the folio +life of Bishop Williams: who, adds Aubrey, “did <i>filch</i> it +from Mr. Camden, as he lay a dying!” He afterwards corrects +his information, by the name of Dr. Thorndyke, which, +however, equally answers our purpose, to prove that even +dying authors may dread such collectors!</p> + +<p>The medalists have, I suspect, been more predatory than +these subtractors of our literary treasures; not only from the +facility of their conveyance, but from a peculiar contrivance +which of all those things which admit of being secretly <span class="correction" title="corrected from purlioned">purloined</span>, +can only be practised in this department—for they +can steal and no human hand can search them with any possibility +of detection; they can pick a cabinet and swallow the +curious things, and transport them with perfect safety, to be +digested at their leisure. An adventure of this kind happened +to Baron Stosch, the famous antiquary. It was in looking +over the gems of the royal cabinet of medals, that the keeper +perceived the loss of one; his place, his pension, and his reputation +were at stake: and he insisted that Baron Stosch +should be most minutely examined; in this dilemma, forced +to confession, this erudite collector assured the keeper of the +royal cabinet, that the strictest search would not avail: +“Alas, sir! I have it here within,” he said, pointing to his +breast—an emetic was suggested by the learned practitioner +himself, probably from some former experiment. This was +not the first time that such a natural cabinet had been invented; +the antiquary Vaillant, when attacked at sea by an +Algerine, zealously swallowed a whole series of Syrian kings; +when he landed at Lyons, groaning with his concealed treasure, +he hastened to his friend, his physician, and his brother +antiquary Dufour,—who at first was only anxious to inquire +of his patient, whether the medals were of the higher empire? +Vaillant showed two or three, of which nature had kindly relieved +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page319" id="page319"></a>319</span> +him. A collection of medals was left to the city of +Exeter, and the donor accompanied the bequest by a clause +in his will, that should a certain antiquary, his old friend and +rival, be desirous of examining the coins, he should be watched +by two persons, one on each side. La Croze informs us in +his life, that the learned Charles Patin, who has written a +work on medals, was one of the present race of collectors: +Patin offered the curators of the public library at Basle to +draw up a catalogue of the cabinet of Amberback there preserved, +containing a good number of medals; but they would +have been more numerous, had the catalogue-writer not diminished +both them and his labour, by sequestrating some of +the most rare, which was not discovered till this plunderer of +antiquity was far out of their reach.</p> + +<p>When Gough touched on this odd subject in the first edition +of his “British Topography,” “An Academic” in the +<i>Gentleman’s Magazine</i> for August 1772, insinuated that this +charge of literary pilfering was only a jocular one; on which +Gough, in his second edition, observed that this was not the +case, and that “one might point out enough <i>light-fingered +antiquaries</i> in the present age, to render such a charge extremely +probable against earlier ones.” The most extraordinary +part of this slight history is, that our public denouncer +some time after proved himself to be one of these +“light-fingered antiquaries:” the deed itself, however, was +more singular than disgraceful. At the disinterment of the +remains of Edward the First, around which thirty years ago +assembled our most erudite antiquaries, Gough was observed, +as Steevens used to relate, in a wrapping great-coat of unusual +dimensions; that witty and malicious “Puck,” so +capable himself of inventing mischief, easily suspected +others, and divided his glance as much on the living piece of +antiquity as on the elder. In the act of closing up the relics +of royalty, there was found wanting an entire fore-finger of +Edward the First; and as the body was perfect when +opened, a murmur of dissatisfaction was spreading, when +“Puck” directed their attention to the great antiquary in the +watchman’s great-coat—from whence—too surely was extracted +Edward the First’s great fore-finger!—so that “the +light-fingered antiquary” was recognised ten years after he +denounced the race, when he came to “try his hand.”<a name="FnAnchor_224" id="FnAnchor_224" href="#Footnote_224"><span class="sp">224</span></a></p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_222" id="Footnote_222" href="#FnAnchor_222"><span class="fn">222</span></a> Lansdowne MSS. 888, in the former printed catalogue, art. 79.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_223" id="Footnote_223" href="#FnAnchor_223"><span class="fn">223</span></a> Coins are the most dangerous things which can be exhibited to a +professed <i>collector</i>. One of the fraternity, who died but a few years since, +absolutely kept a record of his pilferings; he succeeded in improving his +collection by attending sales also, and changing his own coins for others in +better preservation.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_224" id="Footnote_224" href="#FnAnchor_224"><span class="fn">224</span></a> It is probable that this story of Gough’s pocketing the fore-finger of +Edward the First, was one of the malicious inventions of George Steevens, +after he discovered that the antiquary was among the few admitted to the +untombing of the royal corpse; Steevens himself was not there! Sylvanus +Urban (the late respected John Nichols), who must know much more +than he cares to record of “Puck,”—has, however, given the following +“secret history” of what he calls “ungentlemanly and unwarrantable +attacks” on Gough by Steevens. It seems that Steevens was a collector +of the works of Hogarth, and while engaged in forming his collection, +wrote an abrupt letter to Gough to obtain from him some early impressions, +by purchase or exchange. Gough resented the manner of his address +by a rough refusal, for it is admitted to have been “a peremptory +one.” Thus arose the implacable vengeance of Steevens, who used to +boast that all the mischievous tricks he played on the grave antiquary, +who was rarely over-kind to any one, was but a pleasant kind of revenge.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page320" id="page320"></a>320</span></p> +<h3>OF LORD BACON AT HOME.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">The</span> history of Lord Bacon would be that of the intellectual +faculties, and a theme so worthy of the philosophical biographer +remains yet to be written. The personal narrative of +this master-genius or inventor must for ever be separated from +the <i>scala intellectûs</i> he was perpetually ascending: and the +domestic history of this creative mind must be consigned to +the most humiliating chapter in the volume of human life; a +chapter already sufficiently enlarged, and which has irrefutably +proved how the greatest minds are not freed from the +infirmities of the most vulgar.</p> + +<p>The parent of our philosophy is now to be considered in a +new light, one which others do not appear to have observed. +My researches into contemporary notices of Bacon have often +convinced me that his philosophical works, in his own days +and among his own countrymen, were not only not comprehended, +but often ridiculed, and sometimes reprobated; that +they were the occasion of many slights and mortifications +which this depreciated man endured; but that from a very +early period in his life, to that last record of his feelings +which appears in his will, this “servant of posterity,” as he +prophetically called himself, sustained his mighty spirit with +the confidence of his own posthumous greatness. Bacon +cast his views through the maturity of ages, and perhaps +amidst the sceptics and the rejectors of his plans, may have +felt at times all that idolatry of fame, which has now consecrated +his philosophical works.</p> + +<p>At college, Bacon discovered how “that scrap of Grecian +knowledge, the peripatetic philosophy,” and the scholastic +babble, could not serve the ends and purposes of knowledge; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page321" id="page321"></a>321</span> +that syllogisms were not things, and that a new logic might +teach us to invent and judge by induction. He found that +theories were to be built upon experiments. When a young +man, abroad, he began to make those observations on nature, +which afterwards led on to the foundations of the new philosophy. +At sixteen, he philosophised; at twenty-six, he had +framed his system into some form; and after forty years of +continued labours, unfinished to his last hour, he left behind +him sufficient to found the great philosophical reformation.</p> + +<p>On his entrance into active life, study was not however his +prime object. With his fortune to make, his court connexions +and his father’s example opened a path for ambition. +He chose the practice of common law as his means, while +his inclinations were looking upwards to political affairs as +his end. A passion for study, however, had strongly marked +him; he had read much more than was required in his professional +character, and this circumstance excited the mean +jealousies of the minister Cecil, and the Attorney-General +Coke. Both were mere practical men of business, whose +narrow conceptions and whose stubborn habits assume that +whenever a man acquires much knowledge foreign to his +profession, he will know less of professional knowledge than +he ought. These men of strong minds, yet limited capacities, +hold in contempt all studies alien to their habits.</p> + +<p>Bacon early aspired to the situation of Solicitor-General; +the court of Elizabeth was divided into factions; Bacon +adopted the interests of the generous Essex, which were inimical +to the party of Cecil. The queen, from his boyhood, +was delighted by conversing with her “young lord-keeper,” +as she early distinguished the precocious gravity and the ingenious +turn of mind of the future philosopher. It was unquestionably +to attract her favour, that Bacon presented to +the queen his “Maxims and Elements of the Common Law,” +not published till after his death. Elizabeth suffered her +minister to form her opinions on the legal character of +Bacon. It was alleged that Bacon was addicted to more +general pursuits than law, and the miscellaneous books which +he was known to have read confirmed the accusation. This +was urged as a reason why the post of Solicitor-General +should not be conferred on a man of speculation, more likely +to distract than to direct her affairs. Elizabeth, in the +height of that political prudence which marked her character, +was swayed by the vulgar notion of Cecil, and believed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page322" id="page322"></a>322</span> +that Bacon, who afterwards filled the situation both of +Solicitor-General and Lord Chancellor, was “a man rather of +show than of depth.” We have recently been told by a +great lawyer that “Bacon was a master.”</p> + +<p>On the accession of James the First, when Bacon still +found the same party obstructing his political advancement, +he appears, in some momentary fit of disgust, to have meditated +on a retreat into a foreign country; a circumstance +which has happened to several of our men of genius, during +a fever of solitary indignation. He was for some time +thrown out of the sunshine of life, but he found its shade +more fitted for contemplation; and, unquestionably, philosophy +was benefited by his solitude at Gray’s Inn. His +hand was always on his work, and better thoughts will find +an easy entrance into the mind of those who feed on their +thoughts, and live amidst their reveries. In a letter on this +occasion, he writes, “My ambition now I shall only put upon +my <span class="sc">pen</span>, whereby I shall be able to maintain memory and +merit, of <span class="sc">the times succeeding</span>.” And many years after, +when he had finally quitted public life, he told the king, “I +would live to study, and not study to live: yet I am prepared +for <i>date obolum Belisario</i>; and, I that have borne a +bag, can bear a wallet.”</p> + +<p>Ever were <span class="sc">the times succeeding</span> in his mind. In that +delightful Latin letter to Father Fulgentio, where, with the +simplicity of true grandeur, he takes a view of all his works, +and in which he describes himself as “one who served posterity,” +in communicating his past and his future designs, he +adds that ”they require some ages for the ripening of +them.” There, while he despairs of finishing what was intended +for the sixth part of his Instauration, how nobly he +despairs! “Of the perfecting this I have cast away all +hopes; but in future ages, perhaps, the design may bud +again.” And he concludes by avowing, that the zeal and +constancy of his mind in the great design, after so many +years, had never become cold and indifferent. He remembers +how, forty years ago, he had composed a juvenile work +about those things, which with confidence, but with too +pompous a title, he had called <i>Temporis Partus Maximus</i>; +the great birth of time! Besides the public dedication of +his <i>Novum Organum</i> to James the First, he accompanied it +with a private letter. He wishes the king’s favour to the +work, which he accounts as much as a hundred years’ time; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page323" id="page323"></a>323</span> +for he adds, “I am persuaded <i>the work will gain upon men’s +minds in</i> <span class="sc">ages</span>.”</p> + +<p>In his last will appears his remarkable legacy of fame. +“My name and memory I leave to foreign nations, and to +mine own countrymen, <span class="sc">after some time be past over</span>.” +Time seemed always personated in the imagination of our +philosopher, and with time he wrestled with a consciousness +of triumph.</p> + +<p>I shall now bring forward sufficient evidence to prove how +little Bacon was understood, and how much he was even despised, +in his philosophical character.</p> + +<p>In those prescient views by which the genius of Verulam +has often anticipated the institutions and the discoveries of +succeeding times, there was one important object which even +his foresight does not appear to have contemplated. Lord +Bacon did not foresee that the English language would +one day be capable of embalming all that philosophy can +discover, or poetry can invent; that his country would at +length possess a national literature of its own, and that it +would exult in classical compositions which might be appreciated +with the finest models of antiquity. His taste was +far unequal to his invention. So little did he esteem the +language of his country, that his favourite works are composed +in Latin; and he was anxious to have what he had +written in English preserved in that “universal language +which may last as long as books last.” It would have surprised +Bacon to have been told, that the most learned men in +Europe have studied English authors to learn to think and to +write. Our philosopher was surely somewhat mortified, +when in his dedication of the Essays he observed, that “of +all my other works my Essays have been most current; for +that, <i>as it seems</i>, they come home to men’s business and +bosoms.” It is too much to hope to find in a vast and profound +inventor a writer also who bestows immortality on his +language. The English language is the only object in his +great survey of art and of nature, which owes nothing of its +excellence to the genius of Bacon.</p> + +<p>He had reason indeed to be mortified at the reception of +his philosophical works; and Dr. Rawley, even some years +after the death of his illustrious master, had occasion to observe, +that “His fame is greater and sounds louder in foreign +parts abroad than at home in his own nation”; thereby verifying +that divine sentence, a prophet is not without honour, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page324" id="page324"></a>324</span> +save in his own country and in his own house. Even the +men of genius, who ought to have comprehended this new +source of knowledge thus opened to them, reluctantly entered +into it; so repugnant are we suddenly to give up ancient +errors which time and habit have made a part of ourselves. +Harvey, who himself experienced the sluggish obstinacy of +the learned, which repelled a great but a novel discovery, +could, however, in his turn deride the amazing novelty of +Bacon’s <i>Novum Organum</i>. Harvey said to Aubrey, that +“Bacon was no great philosopher; he writes philosophy like +a lord chancellor.” It has been suggested to me that Bacon’s +philosophical writings have been much overrated.—His experimental +philosophy from the era in which they were produced +must be necessarily defective: the time he gave to them could +only have been had at spare hours; but like the great prophet +on the mount, Bacon was doomed to view the land afar, which +he himself could never enter.</p> + +<p>Bacon found but small encouragement for his <i>new learning</i> +among the most eminent scholars, to whom he submitted his +early discoveries. A very copious letter by Sir Thomas Bodley +on Bacon’s desiring him to return the manuscript of the +<i>Cogitata et Visa</i>, some portion of the <i>Novum Organum</i>, has +come down to us; it is replete with objections to the new philosophy. +“I am one of that crew,” says Sir Thomas, “that +say we possess a far greater holdfast of certainty in the sciences +than you will seem to acknowledge.” He gives a hint too +that Solomon complained “of the infinite making of books in +his time;” that all Bacon delivers is only “by averment +without other force of argument, to disclaim all our axioms, +maxims, &c., left by tradition from our elders unto us, which +have passed all probations of the sharpest wits that ever +were;” and he concludes that the end of all Bacon’s philosophy, +by “a fresh creating new principles of sciences, would +be to be dispossessed of the learning we have;” and he fears +that it would require as many ages as have marched before us +that knowledge should be perfectly achieved. Bodley truly +compares himself to “the carrier’s horse which cannot blanch +the beaten way in which I was trained.”<a name="FnAnchor_225" id="FnAnchor_225" href="#Footnote_225"><span class="sp">225</span></a></p> + +<p>Bacon did not lose heart by the timidity of the “carrier’s +horse:” a smart vivacious note in return shows his quick +apprehension.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page325" id="page325"></a>325</span></p> + +<p>“As I am going to my house in the country, I shall want +my papers, which I beg you therefore to return. You are +slothful, and you help me nothing, so that I am half in conceit +you affect not the argument; for myself I know well you love +and affect. I can say no more, but <i>non canimus surdis, +respondent omnia sylvæ</i>. If you be not <i>of the lodgings chalked +up</i>, whereof I speak in my preface, I am but to pass by +your door. But if I had you a fortnight at Gorhambury, I +would make you tell another tale; or else I would add a +cogitation <i>against libraries</i>, and be revenged on you that +way.”</p> + +<p>A keen but playful retort of a great author too conscious +of his own views to be angry with his critic! The singular +phrase of the <i>lodgings chalked up</i> is a sarcasm explained by +this passage in “The Advancement of Learning.” “As +Alexander Borgia was wont to say of the expedition of the +French for Naples, that they came with chalk in their hands +to mark up their lodgings, and not with weapons to fight; so +I like better that entry of truth that cometh peaceably with +chalk to mark up those minds which are capable to lodge and +harbour it, than that which cometh with pugnacity and contention.”<a name="FnAnchor_226" id="FnAnchor_226" href="#Footnote_226"><span class="sp">226</span></a> +The threatened agitation <i>against libraries</i> must +have caused Bodley’s cheek to tingle.</p> + +<p>Let us now turn from the scholastic to the men of the +world, and we shall see what sort of notion these critics entertained +of the philosophy of Bacon. Chamberlain writes, +“This week the lord chancellor hath set forth his new work, +called <i>Instauratio Magna</i>, or a kind of <i>Novum Organum</i> of +all philosophy. In sending it to the king, he wrote that he +wished his majesty might be so long in reading it as he hath +been in composing and polishing it, which is well near thirty +years. I have read no more than the bare title, and am not +greatly encouraged by Mr. Cuffe’s judgment,<a name="FnAnchor_227" id="FnAnchor_227" href="#Footnote_227"><span class="sp">227</span></a> who having +long since perused it, gave this censure, that a fool could not +have written such a work, and a wise man would not.” A +month or two afterwards we find that “the king cannot +forbear sometimes in reading the lord chancellor’s last book +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page326" id="page326"></a>326</span> +to say, that it is like <i>the peace of God, that surpasseth all +understanding</i>.”</p> + +<p>Two years afterwards the same letter-writer proceeds with +another literary paragraph about Bacon. “This lord busies +himself altogether about <i>books</i>, and hath set out two lately, +<i>Historia Ventorum</i> and <i>De Vitâ et Morte</i>, with promise of +more. I have yet seen neither of them, because I have not +leisure; but if the Life of Henry the Eighth (the Seventh), +which they say he is about, might <i>come out after his own +manner</i> (meaning his Moral Essays), I should find time and +means enough to read it.” When this history made its +appearance, the same writer observes, “My Lord Verulam’s +history of Henry the Seventh is come forth; I have not read +much of it, but they say it is a very pretty book.”<a name="FnAnchor_228" id="FnAnchor_228" href="#Footnote_228"><span class="sp">228</span></a></p> + +<p>Bacon, in his vast survey of human knowledge, included +even its humbler provinces, and condescended to form a collection +of apophthegms: his lordship regretted the loss of a +collection made by Julius Cæsar, while Plutarch indiscriminately +drew much of the dregs. The wits, who could not +always comprehend his plans, ridiculed the sage. I shall now +quote a contemporary poet, whose works, for by their size +they may assume that distinction, were never published. A +Dr. Andrews wasted a sportive pen on fugitive events; but +though not always deficient in humour and wit, such is the +freedom of his writings, that they will not often admit of +quotation. The following is indeed but a strange pun on +Bacon’s title, derived from the town of St. Albans and his +collection of apophthegms:—</p> + + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p class="i1 scs">ON LORD BACON PUBLISHING APOPHTHEGMS</p> + +<p class="s">When learned Bacon wrote Essays,</p> +<p>He did deserve and hath the praise;</p> +<p>But now he writes his <i>Apophthegms</i>,</p> +<p>Surely he dozes or he dreams;</p> +<p>One said, <i>St. Albans</i> now is grown unable,</p> +<p>And is in the high-road way—<i>to Dunstable</i> [i. e., <i>Dunce-table</i>.]</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>To the close of his days were Lord Bacon’s philosophical +pursuits still disregarded and depreciated by ignorance and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page327" id="page327"></a>327</span> +envy, in the forms of friendship or rivality. I shall now give +a remarkable example. Sir Edward Coke was a mere great +lawyer, and, like all such, had a mind so walled in by law-knowledge, +that in its bounded views it shut out the horizon +of the intellectual faculties, and the whole of his philosophy +lay in the statutes. In the library at Holkham there will be +found a presentation copy of Lord Bacon’s <i>Novum Organum</i>, +the <i>Instauratio Magna</i>, 1620. It was given to Coke, for it +bears the following note on the title-page, in the writing of +Coke:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Edw. Coke, <i>Ex dono authoris,</i></p> + <p class="i6"><i>Auctori consilium</i></p> +<p><i>Instaurare paras veterum documenta sophorum</i></p> +<p><i>Instaura leges, justitiamque prius</i>.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">The verses not only reprove Bacon for going out of his profession, +but must have alluded to his character as a prerogative +lawyer, and his corrupt administration of the chancery. The +book was published in October, 1620, a few months before +his impeachment. And so far one may easily excuse the +causticity of Coke; but how he really valued the philosophy +of Bacon appears by this: in this first edition there is a +device of a ship passing between Hercules’s pillars; the <i>plus +ultra</i>, the proud exultation of our philosopher. Over this +device Coke has written a miserable distich in English, which +marks his utter contempt of the philosophical pursuits of his +illustrious rival. This ship passing beyond the columns of +Hercules he sarcastically conceits as “The Ship of Fools,” +the famous satire of the German Sebastian Brandt, translated +by Alexander Barclay.</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p><i>It deserveth not to be read in schools,</i></p> +<p><i>But to be freighted in the Ship of Fools.</i></p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Such then was the fate of Lord Bacon; a history not +written by his biographers, but which may serve as a comment +on that obscure passage dropped from the pen of his +chaplain, and already quoted, that he was more valued abroad +than at home.</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_225" id="Footnote_225" href="#FnAnchor_225"><span class="fn">225</span></a> This letter may be found in <i>Reliquiæ Bodleianæ</i>, p. 369.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_226" id="Footnote_226" href="#FnAnchor_226"><span class="fn">226</span></a> I have been favoured with this apt illustration by an anonymous communicator, +who dates from the “London University.” I request him to +accept my grateful acknowledgments.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_227" id="Footnote_227" href="#FnAnchor_227"><span class="fn">227</span></a> Henry Cuffe, secretary to Robert, Earl of Essex, and executed, being +concerned in his treason. A man noted for his classical acquirements and +his genius, who perished early in life.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_228" id="Footnote_228" href="#FnAnchor_228"><span class="fn">228</span></a> Chamberlain adds the price of this moderate-sized folio, which was +six shillings. It would be worth the while of some literary student to +note the prices of our earlier books, which are often found written upon +them by their original possessor. A rare tract first purchased for twopence +has often realized four guineas or more in modern days.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page328" id="page328"></a>328</span></p> +<h3>SECRET HISTORY OF THE DEATH OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">It</span> is an extraordinary circumstance in our history, that the +succession to the English dominion, in two remarkable cases, +was never settled by the possessors of the throne themselves +during their lifetime; and that there is every reason to believe +that this mighty transfer of three kingdoms became the sole +act of their ministers, who considered the succession merely +as a state expedient. Two of our most able sovereigns found +themselves in this predicament: Queen Elizabeth and the +Protector Cromwell! Cromwell probably had his reasons not +to name his successor; his positive election would have +dissatisfied the opposite parties of his government, whom he +only ruled while he was able to cajole them. He must have +been aware that latterly he had need of conciliating all parties +to his usurpation, and was probably as doubtful on his death-bed +whom to appoint his successor as at any other period of +his reign. Ludlow suspects that Cromwell was “so discomposed +in body or mind, that he could not attend to that matter; +and whether he named any one is to me uncertain.” All +that we know is the report of the Secretary Thurlow and his +chaplains, who, when the protector lay in his last agonies, +suggested to him the propriety of choosing his eldest son, +and they tell us that he agreed to this choice. Had Cromwell +been in his senses, he would have probably fixed on <i>Henry</i>, +the lord-lieutenant of Ireland, rather than on <i>Richard</i>, or +possibly had not chosen either of his sons!</p> + +<p>Elizabeth, from womanish infirmity, or from state-reasons, +could not endure the thoughts of her successor; and long +threw into jeopardy the politics of all the cabinets of Europe, +each of which had its favourite candidate to support. The +legitimate heir to the throne of England was to be the creature +of her breath, yet Elizabeth would not speak him into +existence! This had, however, often raised the discontents +of the nation, and we shall see how it harassed the queen in +her dying hours. It is even suspected that the queen still +retained so much of the woman, that she could never overcome +her perverse dislike to name a successor; so that, +according to this opinion, she died and left the crown to the +mercy of a party! This would have been acting unworthy +of the magnanimity of her great character—and as it is +ascertained that the queen was very sensible that she lay in a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page329" id="page329"></a>329</span> +dying state several days before the natural catastrophe +occurred, it is difficult to believe that she totally disregarded +so important a circumstance. It is therefore, reasoning <i>à +priori</i>, most natural to conclude that the choice of a successor +must have occupied her thoughts, as well as the anxieties of +her ministers; and that she would not have left the throne in +the same unsettled state at her death as she had persevered +in during her whole life. How did she express herself when +bequeathing the crown to James the First, or did she +bequeath it at all?</p> + +<p>In the popular pages of her female historian Miss Aikin, +it is observed that “the closing scene of the long and eventful +life of Queen Elizabeth was marked by that peculiarity of +character and destiny which attended her from the cradle, +and pursued her to the grave.” The last days of Elizabeth +were indeed most melancholy—she died a victim of the +higher passions, and perhaps as much of grief as of age, +refusing all remedies and even nourishment. But in all the +published accounts, I can nowhere discover how she conducted +herself respecting the circumstance of our present +inquiry. The most detailed narrative, or as Gray the poet +calls it, “the Earl of Monmouth’s <i>odd account</i> of Queen +Elizabeth’s death,” is the one most deserving notice; and +there we find the circumstance of this inquiry introduced. +The queen at that moment was reduced to so sad a state, +that it is doubtful whether her majesty was at all sensible of +the inquiries put to her by her ministers respecting the succession. +The Earl of Monmouth says, “On Wednesday, the +23rd of March, she grew speechless. That afternoon, by +signs, she called for her council, and by putting her hand to her +head when the King of Scots was named to succeed her, they +all knew he was the man she desired should reign after her.” +Such a sign as that of a dying woman putting her hand to +her head was, to say the least, a very ambiguous acknowledgment +of the right of the Scottish monarch to the English +throne. The “odd” but very <i>naïve</i> account of Robert Cary, +afterwards Earl of Monmouth, is not furnished with dates, +nor with the exactness of a diary. Something might have +occurred on a preceding day which had not reached him. +Camden describes the death-bed scene of Elizabeth; by this +authentic writer it appears that she had confided her +state-secret of the succession to the lord admiral (the Earl of +Nottingham); and when the earl found the queen almost at +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page330" id="page330"></a>330</span> +her extremity, <i>he communicated her majesty’s secret to +the council</i>, who commissioned the lord admiral, the lord +keeper, and the secretary, to wait on her majesty, and +acquaint her that they came in the name of the rest to learn +her pleasure in reference to <i>the succession</i>. The queen +was then very weak, and answered them with a faint voice, +that she had already declared, that as she held a regal +sceptre, so she desired no other than a royal successor. +When the secretary requested her to explain herself, the +queen said, “I would have a king succeed me; and who +should that he but my nearest kinsman, the King of Scots?” +Here this state conversation was put an end to by the interference +of the archbishop advising her majesty to turn +her thoughts to God. “Never,” she replied, “has my +mind wandered from him.”</p> + +<p>An historian of Camden’s high integrity would hardly +have forged a fiction to please the new monarch: yet Camden +has not been referred to on this occasion by the exact Birch, +who draws his information from the letters of the French +ambassador, Villeroy; information which it appears the +English ministers had confided to this ambassador; nor do we +get any distinct ideas from Elizabeth’s more recent popular +historian, who could only transcribe the account of Cary. +He had told us a fact which he could not be mistaken in, +that the queen fell speechless on Wednesday, 23rd of March, +on which day, however, she called her council, and made that +sign with her hand, which, as the lords choose to understand, +for ever united the two kingdoms. But the noble editor of +Cary’s Memoirs (the Earl of Cork and Orrery) has observed +that “the speeches made for Elizabeth on her death-bed are +all forged.” Echard, Rapin, and a long string of historians, +make her say faintly (so faintly indeed that it could not possibly +be heard), “I will that a king succeed me, and who +should that be but my nearest kinsman, the King of Scots?” +A different account of this matter will be found in the following +memoirs. “She was speechless, and almost expiring, +when the chief councillors of state were called into her bedchamber. +As soon as they were perfectly convinced that she +could not utter an articulate word, and scarce could hear or +understand one, they named the King of Scots to her, <i>a +liberty they dared not to have taken if she had been able to +speak</i>; she put her hand to her head, which was probably at +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page331" id="page331"></a>331</span> +that time in agonising pain. <i>The lords, who interpreted her +signs just as they pleased</i>, were immediately convinced that +the <i>motion of her hand to her head was a declaration of James +the Sixth as her successor</i>. What was this but the unanimous +interpretation of persons who were adoring the rising sun?”</p> + +<p>This is lively and plausible; but the noble editor did not +recollect that “the speeches made by Elizabeth on her death-bed,” +which he deems “forgeries,” in consequence of the circumstance +he had found in Cary’s Memoirs, originate with +Camden, and were only repeated by Rapin and Echard, &c. +I am now to confirm the narrative of the elder historian, as +well as the circumstance related by Cary, describing the sign +of the queen a little differently, which happened on Wednesday, +23rd. A hitherto unnoticed document pretends to give +a fuller and more circumstantial account of this affair, which +commenced on <i>the preceding day</i>, when the queen retained +the power of speech; and it will be confessed that the +language here used has all that loftiness and brevity which +was the natural style of this queen. I have discovered a +curious document in a manuscript volume formerly in the +possession of Petyt, and seemingly in his own handwriting. +I do not doubt its authenticity, and it could only have come +from some of the illustrious personages who were the actors +in that solemn scene, probably from Cecil. This memorandum +is entitled</p> + +<p>“Account of the last words of Queen Elizabeth about her +Successor.</p> + +<p>“On the Tuesday before her death, being the twenty-third +of March, the admiral being on the right side of her bed, the +lord keeper on the left, and Mr. Secretary Cecil (afterwards +Earl of Salisbury) at the bed’s feet, all standing, the lord +admiral put her in mind of her speech concerning the succession +had at Whitehall, and that they, in the name of all the +rest of her council, came unto her to know her pleasure who +should succeed; whereunto she thus replied:</p> + +<p>“<i>I told you my seat had been the seat of kings, and I will +have no rascal to succeed me. And who should succeed me +but a king?</i></p> + +<p>“The lords not understanding this dark speech, and looking +one on the other; at length Mr. Secretary boldly asked her +what she meant by those words, that <i>no rascal should succeed +her</i>. Whereto she replied, that <i>her meaning was, that a king</i> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page332" id="page332"></a>332</span> +<i>should succeed: and who</i>, quoth she, <i>should, that be but our +cousin of Scotland</i>?</p> + +<p>“They asked her whether that were her absolute resolution? +whereto she answered, <i>I pray you trouble me no more; for I +will have none but him</i>. With which answer they departed.</p> + +<p>“Notwithstanding, after again, about four o’clock in the +afternoon the next day, being Wednesday, after the Archbishop +of Canterbury and other divines had been with her, +and left her in a manner speechless, the three lords aforesaid +repaired unto her again, asking her if she remained in her +former resolution, and who should succeed her? but not being +able to speak, was asked by Mr. Secretary in this sort, ‘We +beseech your majesty, if you remain in your former resolution, +and that you would have the King of Scots to succeed +you in your kingdom, show some sign unto us: whereat, +<i>suddenly heaving herself upwards in her bed, and putting her +arms out of bed, she held her hands jointly over her head in +manner of a crown</i>; whence as they guessed, she signified +that she did not only wish him the kingdom, but desire continuance +of his estate: after which they departed, and the +next morning she died. Immediately after her death, all the +lords, as well of the council as other noblemen that were at +the court, came from Richmond to Whitehall by six o’clock +in the morning, where other noblemen that were in London +met them. Touching the succession, after some speeches of +divers competitors and matters of state, at length the admiral +rehearsed all the aforesaid premises which the late queen had +spoken to him, and to the lord keeper, and Mr. Secretary +(Cecil), with the manner thereof; which they, being asked, +did affirm to be true upon their <span class="sc">honour</span>.”</p> + +<p>Such is this singular document of secret history. I cannot +but value it as authentic, because the one part is evidently +alluded to by Camden, and the other is fully confirmed by +Cary; and besides this, the remarkable expression of “rascal” +is found in the letter of the French ambassador. There +were two interviews with the queen, and Cary appears only to +have noticed the last on Wednesday, when the queen lay +speechless. Elizabeth all her life had persevered in an obstinate +mysteriousness respecting the succession, and it harassed +her latest moments. The second interview of her ministers +may seem to us quite supernumerary; but Cary’s “putting +her hand to her head,” too meanly describes the “joining +her hands in manner of a crown.”</p> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page333" id="page333"></a>333</span></p> +<h3>JAMES THE FIRST AS A FATHER AND A HUSBAND.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Calumnies</span> and sarcasms have reduced the character of James +the First to contempt among general readers; while the narrative +of historians, who have related facts in spite of themselves, +is in perpetual contradiction with their own opinions. +Perhaps no sovereign has suffered more by that art, which is +described by an old Irish proverb, of “killing a man by lies.” +The surmises and the insinuations of one party, dissatisfied +with the established government in church and state; the +misconceptions of more modern writers, who have not possessed +the requisite knowledge; and the anonymous libels, +sent forth at a particular period to vilify the Stuarts; all +these cannot be treasured up by the philosopher as the +authorities of history. It is at least more honourable to +resist popular prejudice than to yield to it a passive obedience; +and what we can ascertain it would be a dereliction of truth +to conceal. Much can be substantiated in favour of the +domestic affections and habits of this pacific monarch; and +those who are more intimately acquainted with the secret +history of the times will perceive how erroneously the personal +character of this sovereign is exhibited in our popular historians, +and often even among the few who, with better information, +have re-echoed their preconceived opinions.</p> + +<p>Confining myself here to his domestic character, I shall not +touch on the many admirable public projects of this monarch, +which have extorted the praise, and even the admiration, of +some who have not spared their pens in his disparagement. +James the First has been taxed with pusillanimity and foolishness; +this monarch cannot, however, be reproached with +having engendered them! All his children, in whose education +their father was so deeply concerned, sustained through +life a dignified character and a high spirit. The short life of +Henry was passed in a school of prowess, and amidst an +academy of literature. Of the king’s paternal solicitude, even +to the hand and the letter-writing of Prince Henry when +young, I have preserved a proof in the article of “The History +of Writing-masters.” Charles the First, in his youth +more particularly designed for a studious life, with a serious +character, was, however, never deficient in active bravery and +magnanimous fortitude. Of Elizabeth, the Queen of Bohemia, +tried as she was by such vicissitudes of fortune, it is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page334" id="page334"></a>334</span> +much to be regretted that the interesting story remains untold; +her buoyant spirits rose always above the perpetual +changes of a princely to a private state—a queen to an +exile! The father of such children derives some distinction +for capacity, in having reared such a noble offspring; and the +king’s marked attention to the formation of his children’s +minds was such as to have been pointed out by Ben Jonson, +who, in his “Gipsies Metamorphosed,” rightly said of James, +using his native term—</p> + +<p class="center1 f90">You are an honest, good man, and have care of <span class="sc">your Bearns</span> (bairns).</p> + +<p>Among the flouts and gibes so freely bespattering the personal +character of James the First, is one of his coldness and +neglect of his queen. It would, however, be difficult to prove +by any known fact that James was not as indulgent a husband +as he was a father. Yet even a writer so well informed +as Daines Barrington, who, as a lawyer, could not refrain from +lauding the royal sage during his visit to Denmark, on his +marriage, for having borrowed three statutes from the Danish +code, found the king’s name so provocative of sarcasm, that +he could not forbear observing, that James “spent more time +in those courts of judicature than in <i>attending upon his destined +consort</i>.”—“Men of all sorts have taken a pride to gird +at me,” might this monarch have exclaimed. But everything +has two handles, saith the ancient adage. Had an +austere puritan chosen to observe that James the First, when +abroad, had lived jovially; and had this historian then dropped +silently the interesting circumstance of the king’s “spending +his time in the Danish courts of judicature,” the fact would +have borne him out in his reproof; and Francis Osborne, +indeed, has censured James for giving marks of his <i>uxoriousness</i>! +There was no deficient gallantry in the conduct of James +the First to his queen; the very circumstance, that when the +Princess of Denmark was driven by a storm back to Norway, +the king resolved to hasten to her, and consummate his marriage +in Denmark, was itself as romantic an expedition as afterwards +was that of his son’s into Spain, and betrays no mark of +that tame pusillanimity with which he stands overcharged.</p> + +<p>The character of the queen of James the First is somewhat +obscure in our public history, for in it she makes no prominent +figure; while in secret history she is more apparent. +Anne of Denmark was a spirited and enterprising woman; +and it appears from a passage in Sully, whose authority should +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page335" id="page335"></a>335</span> +weigh with us, although we ought to recollect that it is the +French minister who writes, that she seems to have raised a +court faction against James, and inclined to favour the +Spanish and catholic interests; yet it may be alleged as a +strong proof of James’s political wisdom, that the queen was +never suffered to head a formidable party, though she latterly +might have engaged Prince Henry in that court opposition. +The <i>bonhommie</i> of the king, on this subject, expressed with a +simplicity of style which, though it may not be royal, is something +better, appears in a letter to the queen, which has been +preserved in the appendix to Sir David Dalrymple’s collections. +It is without date, but written when in Scotland, +to quiet the queen’s suspicions, that the Earl of Mar, who +had the care of Prince Henry, and whom she wished to take +out of his hands, had insinuated to the king that her majesty +was strongly disposed to any “popish or Spanish course.” +This letter confirms the representation of Sully; but the +extract is remarkable for the manly simplicity of style which +the king used.</p> + +<p>“I say over again, leave these froward womanly apprehensions, +for I thank God I carry that love and respect unto +you which, by the law of God and nature, I ought to do to +my wife, and mother of my children; but not for that ye are +a king’s daughter; for whether ye were a king’s daughter, or +a cook’s daughter, ye must be all alike to me since my wife. +For the respect of your honourable birth and descent I married +you; but the love and respect I now bear you is because +that ye are my married wife, and so partaker of my honour, +as of my other fortunes. I beseech you excuse my plainness +in this, for casting up of your birth is a needless impertinent +(that is, not pertinent) argument to me. God is my witness, I +ever preferred you to my bairns, much more than to a subject.”</p> + +<p>In an ingenious historical dissertation, but one perfectly +theoretical, respecting that mysterious transaction the Gowrie +conspiracy, Pinkerton has attempted to show that Anne of +Denmark was a lady somewhat inclined to intrigue, and that +“the king had cause to be jealous.” He confesses that “he +cannot discover any positive charge of adultery against Anne +of Denmark, but merely of coquetry.”<a name="FnAnchor_229" id="FnAnchor_229" href="#Footnote_229"><span class="sp">229</span></a> To what these accusations +amount it would be difficult to say. The progeny of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page336" id="page336"></a>336</span> +James the First sufficiently bespeak their family resemblance. +If it be true, that “the king had ever reason to be jealous,” +and yet that no single criminal act of the queen’s has been +recorded, it must be confessed that one or both of the parties +were singularly discreet and decent; for the king never complained, +and the queen was never accused, if we except this +burthen of an old Scottish ballad,</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>O the bonny Earl of Murray,</p> +<p>He was the queen’s love.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">Whatever may have happened in Scotland, in England the +queen appears to have lived occupied chiefly by the amusements +of the court, and not to have interfered with the <i>arcana</i> +of state. She appears to have indulged a passion for the +elegancies and splendours of the age, as they were shown in +those gorgeous court masques with which the taste of James +harmonized, either from his gallantry for the queen, or his +own poetic sympathy. But this taste for court masques +could not escape the slur and scandal of the puritanic, and +these “high-flying fancies” are thus recorded by honest +Arthur Wilson, whom we summon into court as an indubitable +witness of the mutual cordiality of this royal couple. +In the spirit of his party, and like Milton, he censures the +taste, but likes it. He says, “The court being a continued +<i>maskarado</i>, where she (the queen) and her ladies, like so +many sea-nymphs or Nereides, appeared often in various +dresses, to the ravishment of the beholders; the king himself +not being a little delighted with such fluent elegancies as +made the night more glorious than the day.”<a name="FnAnchor_230" id="FnAnchor_230" href="#Footnote_230"><span class="sp">230</span></a> This is a +direct proof that James was by no means cold or negligent +in his attentions to his queen; and the letter which has been +given is the picture of his mind. That James the First was +fondly indulgent to his queen, and could perform an act of +chivalric gallantry with all the generosity of passion, and the +ingenuity of an elegant mind, a pleasing anecdote which I +have discovered in an unpublished letter of the day will show. +I give it in the words of the writer.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="rt">“<i>August, 1613.</i></p> + +<p>“At their last being at Theobalds, about a fortnight ago, +the queen, shooting at a deer, mistook her mark, and killed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page337" id="page337"></a>337</span> +<i>Jewel</i>, the king’s most principal and special hound; at which +he stormed exceedingly awhile; but after he knew who did +it, he was soon pacified, and with much kindness wished her +not to be troubled with it, for he should love her never the +worse: and the next day sent her a diamond worth two thousand +pounds as <i>a legacy from his dead dog</i>. Love and kindness +increased daily between them.”</p> + +<p>Such is the history of a contemporary living at court, very +opposite to that representation of coldness and neglect with +which the king’s temper has been so freely aspersed; and such +too is the true portrait of James the First in domestic life. +His first sensations were thoughtless and impetuous; and +he would ungracefully thunder out an oath, which a puritan +would set down in his “tables,” while he omitted to note +that this king’s forgiveness and forgetfulness of personal +injuries were sure to follow the feeling they had excited.</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_229" id="Footnote_229" href="#FnAnchor_229"><span class="fn">229</span></a> The historical dissertation is appended to the first volume of Mr. +Malcolm Laing’s “History of Scotland,” who thinks that “it has placed +that obscure transaction in its genuine light.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_230" id="Footnote_230" href="#FnAnchor_230"><span class="fn">230</span></a> See the article on <i>Court Masques</i> in the early pages of the present +volume for notices of the elaborate splendour and costliness of these +favourite displays.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>THE MAN OF ONE BOOK.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Mr. Maurice</span>, in his animated Memoirs, has recently +acquainted us with a fact which may be deemed important in +the life of a literary man. He tells us, “We have been just +informed that Sir William Jones <i>invariably</i> read through +every year the works of Cicero, whose life indeed was the great +exemplar of his own.” The same passion for the works of +Cicero has been participated by others. When the best means +of forming a good style were inquired of the learned Arnauld, +he advised the daily study of Cicero; but it was +observed that the object was not to form a Latin, but a French +style: “In that case,” replied Arnauld, “you must still read +Cicero.”</p> + +<p>A predilection for some great author, among the vast number +which must transiently occupy our attention, seems to be +the happiest preservative for our taste: accustomed to that +excellent author whom we have chosen for our favourite, we +may in this intimacy possibly resemble him. It is to be +feared that, if we do not form such a permanent attachment, +we may be acquiring knowledge, while our enervated taste +becomes less and less lively. Taste embalms the knowledge +which otherwise cannot preserve itself. He who has long been +intimate with one great author will always be found to be a +formidable antagonist; he has saturated his mind with the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page338" id="page338"></a>338</span> +excellences of genius; he has shaped his faculties insensibly +to himself by his model, and he is like a man who ever sleeps +in armour, ready at a moment! The old Latin proverb +reminds us of this fact, <i>Cave ab homine unius libri</i>: Be cautious +of the man of one book!</p> + +<p>Pliny and Seneca give very safe advice on reading: that we +should read much, but not many books—but they had no +“monthly list of new publications!” Since their days others +have favoured us with “Methods of Study,” and “Catalogues +of Books to be Read.” Vain attempts to circumscribe that +invisible circle of human knowledge which is perpetually enlarging +itself! The multiplicity of books is an evil for +the many; for we now find an <i>helluo librorum</i> not only +among the learned, but, with their pardon, among the unlearned; +for those who, even to the prejudice of their health, +persist only in reading the incessant book-novelties of our +own time, will after many years acquire a sort of learned +ignorance. We are now in want of an art to teach how books +are to be read, rather than not to read them: such an art is +practicable. But amidst this vast multitude still let us be +“the man of one book,” and preserve an uninterrupted intercourse +with that great author with whose mode of thinking +we sympathise, and whose charms of composition we can +habitually retain.</p> + +<p>It is remarkable that every great writer appears to have a +predilection for some favourite author; and, with Alexander, +had they possessed a golden casket, would have enshrined the +works they so constantly turned over. Demosthenes felt such +delight in the history of Thucydides, that, to obtain a familiar +and perfect mastery of his style, he re-copied his history eight +times; while Brutus not only was constantly perusing Polybius, +even amidst the most busy periods of his life, but was +abridging a copy of that author on the last awful night of his +existence, when on the following day he was to try his fate +against Antony and Octavius. Selim the Second had the +Commentaries of Cæsar translated for his use; and it is +recorded that his military ardour was heightened by the +perusal. We are told that Scipio Africanus was made a hero +by the writings of Xenophon. When Clarendon was employed +in writing his history, he was in a constant study of +Livy and Tacitus, to acquire the full and flowing style of the +one, and the portrait-painting of the other: he records this +circumstance in a letter. Voltaire had usually on his table +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page339" id="page339"></a>339</span> +the <i>Athalie</i> of Racine, and the <i>Petit Carême</i> of Massillon; +the tragedies of the one were the finest model of French +verse, the sermons of the other of French prose. “Were I +obliged to sell my library,” exclaimed Diderot, “I would +keep back Moses, Homer, and Richardson;” and, by the +<i>éloge</i> which this enthusiastic writer composed on our English +novelist, it is doubtful, had the Frenchman been obliged to +have lost two of them, whether Richardson had not been the +elected favourite. Monsieur Thomas, a French writer, who +at times displays high eloquence and profound thinking, +Herault de Sechelles tells us, studied chiefly one author, but +that author was Cicero; and never went into the country unaccompanied +by some of his works. Fénélon was constantly +employed on his Homer; he left a translation of the greater +part of the Odyssey, without any design of publication, but +merely as an exercise for style. Montesquieu was a constant +student of Tacitus, of whom he must be considered a forcible +imitator. He has, in the manner of Tacitus, characterised +Tacitus: “That historian,” he says, “who abridged everything, +because he saw everything.” The famous Bourdaloue +re-perused every year Saint Paul, Saint Chrysostom, and +Cicero. “These,” says a French critic, “were the sources of +his masculine and solid eloquence.” Grotius had such a taste +for Lucan, that he always carried a pocket edition about him, +and has been seen to kiss his hand-book with the rapture of a +true votary. If this anecdote be true, the elevated sentiments +of the stern Roman were probably the attraction with the Batavian +republican. The diversified reading of Leibnitz is well +known; but he still attached himself to one or two favourites: +Virgil was always in his hand when at leisure, and +Leibnitz had read Virgil so often, that even in his old age he +could repeat whole books by heart; Barclay’s Argenis was his +model for prose; when he was found dead in his chair, the +Argenis had fallen from his hands. Rabelais and Marot were +the perpetual favourites of La Fontaine; from one he borrowed +his humour, and from the other his style. Quevedo +was so passionately fond of the Don Quixote of Cervantes, +that often in reading that unrivalled work he felt an impulse +to burn his own inferior compositions: to be a sincere admirer +and a hopeless rival is a case of authorship the hardest imaginable. +Few writers can venture to anticipate the award +of posterity; yet perhaps Quevedo had not even been what +he was without the perpetual excitement he received from his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page340" id="page340"></a>340</span> +great master. Horace was the friend of his heart to Malherbe; +he laid the Roman poet on his pillow, took him in the +fields, and called his Horace his breviary. Plutarch, Montaigne, +and Locke, were the three authors constantly in the hands of +Rousseau, and he has drawn from them the groundwork of +his ideas in his Emile. The favourite author of the great Earl +of Chatham was Barrow; and on his style he had formed his +eloquence, and had read his great master so constantly, as to +be able to repeat his elaborate sermons from memory. The +great Lord Burleigh always carried Tully’s Offices in his +pocket; Charles V. and Buonaparte had Machiavel frequently +in their hands; and Davila was the perpetual study of +Hampden: he seemed to have discovered in that historian of +civil wars those which he anticipated in the land of his fathers.</p> + +<p>These facts sufficiently illustrate the recorded circumstance +of Sir William Jones’s invariable habit of reading his Cicero +through every year, and exemplify the happy result for him, +who, amidst the multiplicity of his authors, still continues in +this way to be “the man of one book.”</p> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>A BIBLIOGNOSTE.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">A startling</span> literary prophecy, recently sent forth from +our oracular literature, threatens the annihilation of public +libraries, which are one day to moulder away!</p> + +<p>Listen to the vaticinator! “As conservatories of mental +treasures, their value in times of darkness and barbarity was +incalculable; and even in these happier days, when men are +incited to explore new regions of thought, they command +respect as depots of methodical and well-ordered references +for the researches of the curious. But what in one state of +society is invaluable, may at another be worthless; and the +progress which the world has made within a very few centuries +has considerably reduced the estimation which is due +to such establishments. We will say more—”<a name="FnAnchor_231" id="FnAnchor_231" href="#Footnote_231"><span class="sp">231</span></a> but enough! +This idea of striking into dust “the god of his idolatry,” the +Dagon of his devotion, is sufficient to terrify the bibliographer, +who views only a blind Samson pulling down the pillars of +his temple!</p> + +<p>This future universal inundation of books, this superfluity +of knowledge, in billions and trillions, overwhelms the imaginnation! +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page341" id="page341"></a>341</span> +It is now about four hundred years since the art of +multiplying books has been discovered; and an arithmetician +has attempted to calculate the incalculable of these four ages +of typography, which he discovers have actually produced +3,641,960 works! Taking each work at three volumes, and +reckoning only each impression to consist of three hundred +copies, which is too little, the actual amount from the presses +of Europe will give to 1816, 3,277,764,000 volumes! each +of which being an inch thick, if placed on a line, would cover +6069 leagues! Leibnitz facetiously maintained that such +would be the increase of literature, that future generations +would find whole cities insufficient to contain their libraries. +We are, however, indebted to the patriotic endeavours of +our grocers and trunkmakers, alchemists of literature! they +annihilate the gross bodies without injuring the finer spirits. +We are still more indebted to that neglected race, the bibliographers!</p> + +<p>The science of books, for so bibliography is sometimes +dignified, may deserve the gratitude of a public, who are yet +insensible of the useful zeal of those book-practitioners, the +nature of whose labours is yet so imperfectly comprehended. +Who is this vaticinator of the uselessness of public libraries? +Is he a <i>bibliognoste</i>, or a <i>bibliographe</i>, or a <i>bibliomane</i>, or a +<i>bibliophile</i>, or a <i>bibliotaphe</i>? A <i>bibliothecaire</i>, or a <i>bibliopole</i>, +the prophet cannot be; for the <i>bibliothecaire</i> is too +delightfully busied among his shelves, and the <i>bibliopole</i> is +too profitably concerned in furnishing perpetual additions to +admit of this hyperbolical terror of annihilation!<a name="FnAnchor_232" id="FnAnchor_232" href="#Footnote_232"><span class="sp">232</span></a></p> + +<p>Unawares, we have dropped into that professional jargon +which was chiefly forged by one who, though seated in the +“scorner’s chair,” was the Thaumaturgus of books and +manuscripts. The Abbé Rive had acquired a singular taste +and curiosity, not without a fermenting dash of singular +<i>charlatanerie</i>, in bibliography: the little volumes he occasionally +put forth are things which but few hands have +touched. He knew well, that for some books to be noised +about, they should not be read: this was one of those recondite +mysteries of his, which we may have occasion farther to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page342" id="page342"></a>342</span> +reveal. This bibliographical hero was librarian to the most +magnificent of book-collectors, the Duke de la Vallière. The +Abbé Rive was a strong but ungovernable brute, rabid, surly, +but <i>très-mordant</i>. His master, whom I have discovered to +have been the partner of the cur’s tricks, would often pat +him; and when the <i>bibliognostes</i>, and the <i>bibliomanes</i> were +in the heat of contest, let his “bull-dog” loose among them, +as the duke affectionately called his librarian. The “bull-dog” +of bibliography appears, too, to have had the taste and +appetite of the tiger of politics, but he hardly lived to join +the festival of the guillotine. I judge of this by an expression +he used to one complaining of his parish priest, whom he +advised to give “une messe dans son ventre!” He had tried +to exhaust his genius in <i>La Chasse aux Bibliographes et aux +Antiquaires mal avisés</i>, and acted Cain with his brothers! +All Europe was to receive from him new ideas concerning +books and manuscripts. Yet all his mighty promises fumed +away in projects; and though he appeared for ever correcting +the blunders of others, this French Ritson left enough of his +own to afford them a choice of revenge. His style of criticism +was perfectly <i>Ritsonian</i>. He describes one of his rivals +as <i>l’insolent et très-insensé auteur de l’Almanach de Gotha</i>, +on the simple subject of the origin of playing-cards!</p> + +<p>The Abbé Rive was one of those men of letters, of whom +there are not a few who pass all their lives in preparations. +Dr. Dibdin, since the above was written, has witnessed the +confusion of the mind and the gigantic industry of our <i>bibliognoste</i>, +which consisted of many trunks full of <i>memoranda</i>. +The description will show the reader to what hard hunting +these book-hunters voluntarily doom themselves, with little +hope of obtaining fame! “In one trunk were about <i>six +thousand</i> notices of MSS. of all ages. In another were +wedged about <i>twelve thousand</i> descriptions of books in all +languages, except those of French and Italian; sometimes +with critical notes. In a third trunk was a bundle of papers +relating to the <i>History of the Troubadours</i>. In a fourth +was a collection of memoranda and literary sketches connected +with the invention of arts and sciences, with pieces +exclusively bibliographical. A fifth trunk contained between +<i>two</i> and <i>three thousand</i> cards, written upon each side, respecting +a collection of prints. In a sixth trunk were contained +his papers respecting earthquakes, volcanoes, and geographical +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page343" id="page343"></a>343</span> +subjects.”<a name="FnAnchor_233" id="FnAnchor_233" href="#Footnote_233"><span class="sp">233</span></a> This <i>Ajax flagellifer</i> of the bibliographical +tribe, who was, as Dr. Dibdin observes, “the terror of his +acquaintance, and the pride of his patron,” is said to have +been in private a very different man from his public character; +all which may be true, without altering a shade of +that public character. The French Revolution showed how +men, mild and even kind in domestic life, were sanguinary +and ferocious in their public.</p> + +<p>The rabid Abbé Rive gloried in terrifying, without enlightening +his rivals; he exulted that he was devoting to +“the rods of criticism and the laughter of Europe the <i>bibliopoles</i>,” +or dealers in books, who would not get by heart his +“Catechism” of a thousand and one questions and answers: +it broke the slumbers of honest De Bure, who had found +life was already too short for his own “Bibliographie Instructive.”</p> + +<p>The Abbé Rive had contrived to catch the shades of the +appellatives necessary to discriminate book amateurs; and of +the first term he is acknowledged to be the inventor.</p> + +<p>A <i>bibliognoste</i>, from the Greek, is one knowing in title-pages +and colophons, and in editions; the place and year +when printed; the presses whence issued; and all the +<i>minutiæ</i> of a book.</p> + +<p>A <i>bibliographe</i> is a describer of books and other literary +arrangements.</p> + +<p>A <i>bibliomane</i> is an indiscriminate accumulator, who blunders +faster than he buys, cock-brained, and purse-heavy!</p> + +<p>A <i>bibliophile</i>, the lover of books, is the only one in the +class who appears to read them for his own pleasure.</p> + +<p>A <i>bibliotaphe</i> buries his books, by keeping them under +lock, or framing them in glass cases.</p> + +<p>I shall catch our <i>bibliognoste</i> in the hour of book-rapture! +It will produce a collection of bibliographical writers, and +show to the second-sighted Edinburgher what human contrivances +have been raised by the art of more painful writers +than himself—either to postpone the day of universal annihilation, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page344" id="page344"></a>344</span> +or to preserve for our posterity, three centuries hence, +the knowledge which now so busily occupies us, and transmit +to them something more than what Bacon calls “Inventories” +of our literary treasures.</p> + +<p>“Histories, and literary <i>bibliothèques</i> (or bibliothecas), will +always present to us,” says La Rive, “an immense harvest of +errors, till the authors of such catalogues shall be fully impressed +by the importance of their art; and, as it were, reading +in the most distant ages of the future the literary good and +evil which they may produce, force a triumph from the pure +devotion to truth, in spite of all the disgusts which their +professional tasks involve; still patiently enduring the heavy +chains which bind down those who give themselves up to this +pursuit, with a passion which resembles heroism.</p> + +<p>“The catalogues of <i>bibliothèques fixes</i> (or critical, historical, +and classified accounts of writers) have engendered that enormous +swarm of bibliographical errors, which have spread their +roots, in greater or less quantities, in all our bibliographers.” +He has here furnished a long list, which I shall preserve in +the note.<a name="FnAnchor_234" id="FnAnchor_234" href="#Footnote_234"><span class="sp">234</span></a></p> + +<p>The list, though curious, is by no means complete. Such +are the men of whom the Abbé Rive speaks with more respect +than his accustomed courtesy. “If such,” says he, +“cannot escape from errors, who shall? I have only marked +them out to prove the importance of bibliographical history. +A writer of this sort must occupy himself with more regard +for his reputation than his own profit, and yield himself up +entirely to the study of books.”</p> + +<p>The mere knowledge of books, which has been called an +erudition of title-pages, may be sufficient to occupy the life +of some; and while the wits and “the million” are ridiculing +these hunters of editions, who force their passage through +secluded spots, as well as course in the open fields, it will be +found that this art of book-knowledge may turn out to be a +very philosophical pursuit, and that men of great name have +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page345" id="page345"></a>345</span> +devoted themselves to labours more frequently contemned +than comprehended. Apostolo Zeno, a poet, a critic, and a +true man of letters, considered it as no small portion of his +glory to have annotated Fontanini, who, himself an eminent +prelate, had passed his life in forming his <i>Bibliotheca Italiana</i>. +Zeno did not consider that to correct errors and to enrich by +information this catalogue of Italian writers was a mean task. +The enthusiasm of the Abbé Rive considered bibliography as +a sublime pursuit, exclaiming on Zeno’s commentary on Fontanini—“He +chained together the knowledge of whole generations +for posterity, and he read in future ages.”</p> + +<p>There are few things by which we can so well trace the +history of the human mind as by a classed catalogue, with +dates of the first publication of books; even the relative prices +of books at different periods, their decline and then their rise, +and again their fall, form a chapter in this history of the +human mind; we become critics even by this literary chronology, +and this appraisement of auctioneers. The favourite +book of every age is a certain picture of the people. The +gradual depreciation of a great author marks a change in +knowledge or in taste.</p> + +<p>But it is imagined that we are not interested in the history +of indifferent writers, and scarcely in that of the secondary +ones. If none but great originals should claim our attention, +in the course of two thousand years we should not count +twenty authors! Every book, whatever be its character, may +be considered as a new experiment made by the human understanding; +and as a book is a sort of individual representation, +not a solitary volume exists but may be personified, and +described as a human being. Hints start discoveries: they +are usually found in very different authors who could go no +further; and the historian of obscure books is often preserving +for men of genius indications of knowledge, which without his +intervention we should not possess! Many secrets we discover +in bibliography. Great writers, unskilled in this science +of books, have frequently used defective editions, as Hume did +the castrated Whitelocke; or, like Robertson, they are ignorant +of even the sources of the knowledge they would give the +public; or they compose on a subject which too late they +discover had been anticipated. Bibliography will show what +has been done, and suggest to our invention what is wanted. +Many have often protracted their journey in a road which +had already been worn out by the wheels which had traversed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page346" id="page346"></a>346</span> +it: bibliography unrolls the whole map of the country +we purpose travelling over—the post-roads and the by-paths.</p> + +<p>Every half-century, indeed, the obstructions multiply; and +the Edinburgh prediction, should it approximate to the event +it has foreseen, may more reasonably terrify a far distant posterity. +Mazzuchelli declared, after his laborious researches in +Italian literature, that one of his more recent predecessors, +who had commenced a similar work, had collected notices of +forty thousand writers—and yet, he adds, my work must increase +that number to ten thousand more! Mazzuchelli said +this in 1753; and the amount of nearly a century must now +be added, for the presses of Italy have not been inactive.</p> + +<p>But the literature of Germany, of France, and of England +has exceeded the multiplicity of the productions of Italy, and +an appalling population of authors swarm before the imagination.<a name="FnAnchor_235" id="FnAnchor_235" href="#Footnote_235"><span class="sp">235</span></a> +Hail then the peaceful spirit of the literary historian, +which sitting amidst the night of time, by the monuments of +genius, trims the sepulchral lamps of the human mind! Hail +to the literary Reaumur, who by the clearness of his glasses +makes even the minute interesting, and reveals to us the +world of insects! These are guardian spirits who, at the close +of every century standing on its ascent, trace out the old +roads we had pursued, and with a lighter line indicate the +new ones which are opening, from the imperfect attempts, +and even the errors of our predecessors!</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_231" id="Footnote_231" href="#FnAnchor_231"><span class="fn">231</span></a> “Edinburgh Review,” vol. xxxiv, 384.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_232" id="Footnote_232" href="#FnAnchor_232"><span class="fn">232</span></a> Will this writer pardon me for ranking him, for a moment, among +those “generalisers” of the age who excel in what a critical friend has +happily discriminated as <i>ambitious writing</i>? that is, writing on any topic, +and not least strikingly on that of which they know least; men otherwise +of fine taste, and who excel in every charm of composition.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_233" id="Footnote_233" href="#FnAnchor_233"><span class="fn">233</span></a> The late Wm. Upcott possessed, in a large degree, a similar taste for +miscellaneous collections. He never threw an old hat away, but used it +as a receptacle for certain “cuttings” from books and periodicals on some +peculiar subjects. He had filled a room with hats and trunks thus +crammed; but they were sacrificed at his death for want of necessary +arrangement.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_234" id="Footnote_234" href="#FnAnchor_234"><span class="fn">234</span></a> Gessner—Simler—Bellarmin—L’Abbé—Mabillon—Montfaucon—Moreri—Bayle—Baillet—Niceron—Dupin—Cave—Warton—Casimir +Oudin—Le Long—Goujet—Wolfius—John Albert Fabricius—Argelati—Tiraboschi—Nicholas Antonio—Walchius—Struvius—Brucker—Scheuchzer—Linnæus—Seguier—Haller—Adamson—Manget—Kestner—Eloy—Douglas—Weidler—Hailbronner—Montucla—Lalande—Bailly—Quadrio—Morhoff—Stollius—Funccius—Schelhorn—Engles—Beyer—Gerdesius—Vogts—Freytag—David +Clement—Chevillier—Maittaire—Orlandi—Prosper +Marchand—Schoeplin—De Boze—Abbé Sallier—and de Saint Leger.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_235" id="Footnote_235" href="#FnAnchor_235"><span class="fn">235</span></a> The British Museum Library now numbers more than 500,000 volumes. +The catalogue alone forms a small library.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>SECRET HISTORY OF AN ELECTIVE MONARCHY.</h3> + +<h5>A POLITICAL SKETCH.</h5> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Poland</span>, once a potent and magnificent kingdom, when it +sunk into an elective monarchy, became “venal thrice an +age.” That country must have exhibited many a diplomatic +scene of intricate intrigue, which although they could not +appear in its public, have no doubt been often consigned to +its secret, history. With us the corruption of a rotten borough +has sometimes exposed the guarded proffer of one party, +and the dexterous chaffering of the other: but a masterpiece +of diplomatic finesse and political invention, electioneering +viewed on the most magnificent scale, with a kingdom to be +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page347" id="page347"></a>347</span> +canvassed, and a crown to be won and lost, or lost and won in +the course of a single day, exhibits a political drama, which, +for the honour and happiness of mankind, is of rare and +strange occurrence. There was one scene in this drama which +might appear somewhat too large for an ordinary theatre; the +actors apparently were not less than fifty to a hundred thousand; +twelve vast tents were raised on an extensive plain, +a hundred thousand horses were in the environs—and palatines +and castellans, the ecclesiastical orders, with the ambassadors +of the royal competitors, all agitated by the +ceaseless motion of different factions during the six weeks of +the election, and of many preceding months of preconcerted +measures and vacillating opinions, now were all solemnly +assembled at the diet.—Once the poet, amidst his gigantic +conception of a scene, resolved to leave it out:</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>So vast a throng the stage can ne’er contain—</p> +<p>Then build a new, or <i>act it in a plain</i>!</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">exclaimed “La Mancha’s knight,” kindling at a scene so +novel and so vast!</p> + +<p>Such an electioneering negotiation, the only one I am +acquainted with, is opened in the “Discours” of Choisin, the +secretary of Montluc, Bishop of Valence, the confidential +agent of Catharine de’ Medici, and who was sent to intrigue +at the Polish diet, to obtain the crown of Poland for her son +the Duke of Anjou, afterwards Henry the Third. This bold +enterprise at first seemed hopeless, and in its progress encountered +growing obstructions; but Montluc was one of the most +finished diplomatists that the genius of the Gallic cabinet +ever sent forth. He was nicknamed in all the courts of +Europe, from the circumstance of his limping, “le Boiteux;” +our political bishop was in cabinet intrigues the Talleyrand +of his age, and sixteen embassies to Italy, Germany, England, +Scotland, and Turkey, had made this “connoisseur en hommes” +an extraordinary politician!</p> + +<p>Catharine de’ Medici was infatuated with the dreams of +judicial astrology; her pensioned oracles had declared that +she should live to see each of her sons crowned, by which +prediction probably they had only purposed to flatter her +pride and her love of dominion. They, however, ended in +terrifying the credulous queen; and she, dreading to witness a +throne in France, disputed perhaps by fratricides, anxiously +sought a separate crown for each of her three sons. She had +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page348" id="page348"></a>348</span> +been trifled with in her earnest negotiations with our Elizabeth; +twice had she seen herself baffled in her views in the +Dukes of Alençon and of Anjou. Catharine then projected a +new empire for Anjou, by incorporating into one kingdom +Algiers, Corsica, and Sardinia; but the other despot, he of +Constantinople, Selim the Second, dissipated the brilliant +speculation of our female Machiavel. Charles the Ninth was +sickly, jealous, and desirous of removing from the court the +Duke of Anjou, whom two victories had made popular, +though he afterwards sunk into a Sardanapalus. Montluc +penetrated into the secret wishes of Catharine and Charles, +and suggested to them the possibility of encircling the brows +of Anjou with the diadem of Poland, the Polish monarch +then being in a state of visible decline. The project was +approved; and, like a profound politician, the bishop prepared +for an event which might be remote, and always problematical, +by sending into Poland a natural son of his, Balagny, +as a disguised agent; his youth, his humble rank, and his +love of pleasure, would not create any alarm among the +neighbouring powers, who were alike on the watch to snatch +the expected spoil; but as it was necessary to have a more +dexterous politician behind the curtain, he recommended his +secretary, Choisnin, as a travelling tutor to a youth who appeared +to want one.</p> + +<p>Balagny proceeded to Poland, where, under the veil of dissipation, +and in the midst of splendid festivities, with his +trusty adjutant, this hair-brained boy of revelry began to +weave those intrigues which were afterwards to be knotted, +or untied, by Montluc himself. He had contrived to be so +little suspected, that the agent of the emperor had often disclosed +important secrets to his young and amiable friend. On +the death of Sigismond Augustus, Balagny, leaving Choisnin +behind to trumpet forth the virtues of Anjou, hastened to +Paris to give an account of all which he had seen or heard. +But poor Choisnin found himself in a dilemma among those +who had so long listened to his panegyrics on the humanity +and meek character of the Duke of Anjou; for the news of +St. Bartholomew’s massacre had travelled faster than the +post; and Choisnin complains that he was now treated as an +impudent liar, and the French prince as a monster. In vain +he assured them that the whole was an exaggerated account, +a mere insurrection of the people, or the effects of a few private +enmities, praying the indignant Poles to suspend their +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page349" id="page349"></a>349</span> +decision till the bishop came: “Attendez le Boiteux!” cried +he, in agony.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, at Paris, the choice of a proper person for this +embassy had been difficult to settle. It was a business of +intrigue more than of form, and required an orator to make +speeches and addresses in a sort of popular assembly; for +though the people, indeed, had no concern in the diet, yet the +greater and the lesser nobles and gentlemen, all electors, were +reckoned at one hundred thousand. It was supposed that a +lawyer who could negotiate in good Latin, and one, as the +French proverb runs, who could <i>aller et parler</i>, would more +effectually puzzle their heads, and satisfy their consciences to +vote for his client. Catharine at last fixed on Montluc himself, +from the superstitious prejudice, which, however, in this +case accorded with philosophical experience, that “Montluc +had ever been <i>lucky</i> in his negotiations.”</p> + +<p>Montluc hastened his departure from Paris; and it appears +that our political bishop had, by his skilful penetration into +the French cabinet, foreseen the horrible catastrophe which +occurred very shortly after he had left it; for he had warned +the Count de Rochefoucault to absent himself; but this lord, +like so many others, had no suspicions of the perfidious projects +of Catharine and her cabinet. Montluc, however, had +not long been on his journey ere the news reached him, and +it occasioned innumerable obstacles in his progress, which +even his sagacity had not calculated on. At Strasburgh he +had appointed to meet some able coadjutors, among whom +was the famous Joseph Scaliger; but they were so terrified +by <i>Les Matinées Parisiennes</i>, that Scaliger flew to Geneva, and +would not budge out of that safe corner: and the others ran +home, not imagining that Montluc would venture to pass +through Germany, where the protestant indignation had +made the roads too hot for a catholic bishop. But Montluc +had set his cast on the die. He had already passed through +several hair-breadth escapes from the stratagems of the Guise +faction, who more than once attempted to hang or drown the +bishop, who, they cried out, was a Calvinist; the fears and +jealousies of the Guises had been roused by this political +mission. Among all these troubles and delays, Montluc was +most affected by the rumour that the election was on the +point of being made, and that the plague was universal +throughout Poland, so that he must have felt that he might +be too late for the one, and too early for the other.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page350" id="page350"></a>350</span></p> + +<p>At last Montluc arrived, and found that the whole weight +of this negotiation was to fall on his single shoulders; and +further, that he was to sleep every night on a pillow of +thorns. Our bishop had not only to allay the ferment of the +popular spirit of the evangelicals, as the protestants were +then called, but even of the more rational catholics of Poland. +He had also to face those haughty and feudal lords, of +whom each considered himself the equal of the sovereign +whom he created, and whose avowed principle was, and many +were incorrupt, that their choice of a sovereign should be +regulated solely by the public interest; and it was hardly to +be expected that the emperor, the czar, and the King of +Sweden would prove unsuccessful rivals to the cruel, and voluptuous, +and bigoted duke of Anjou, whose political interests +were too remote and novel to have raised any faction +among these independent Poles.</p> + +<p>The crafty politician had the art of dressing himself up in +all the winning charms of candour and loyalty; a sweet flow +of honeyed words melted on his lips, while his heart, cold +and immovable as a rock, stood unchanged amidst the most +unforeseen difficulties.</p> + +<p>The emperor had set to work the Abbé Cyre in a sort of +ambiguous character, an envoy for the nonce, to be acknowledged +or disavowed as was convenient; and by his activity +he obtained considerable influence among the Lithuanians, the +Wallachians, and nearly all Prussia, in favour of the Archduke +Ernest. Two Bohemians, who had the advantage of +speaking the Polish language, had arrived with a state and +magnificence becoming kings rather than ambassadors. The +Muscovite had written letters full of golden promises to the +nobility, and was supported by a palatine of high character; +a perpetual peace between two such great neighbours was +too inviting a project not to find advocates; and this party, +Choisnin observes, appeared at first the most to be feared. +The King of Sweden was a close neighbour, who had married +the sister of their late sovereign, and his son urged his family +claims as superior to those of foreigners. Among these parties +was a patriotic one, who were desirous of a Pole for +their monarch; a king of their fatherland, speaking their +mother-tongue, one who would not strike at the independence +of his country, but preserve its integrity from the +stranger. This popular party was even agreeable to several +of the foreign powers themselves, who did not like to see a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page351" id="page351"></a>351</span> +rival power strengthening itself by so strict a union with +Poland; but in this choice of a sovereign from among themselves, +there were at least thirty lords who equally thought +that they were the proper wood of which kings should be +carved out. The Poles therefore could not agree on the Pole +who deserved to be a <i>Piaste</i>; an endearing title for a native +monarch, which originated in the name of the family of the +<i>Piastis</i>, who had reigned happily over the Polish people for +the space of five centuries! The remembrance of their virtues +existed in the minds of the honest Poles in this affectionate +title, and their party were called the <i>Piastis</i>.</p> + +<p>Montluc had been deprived of the assistance he had +depended on from many able persons, whom the massacre of +St. Bartholomew had frightened away from every French +political connexion. He found that he had himself only to +depend on. We are told that he was not provided with the +usual means which are considered most efficient in elections, +nor possessed the interest nor the splendour of his powerful +competitors: he was to derive all his resources from diplomatic +finesse. The various ambassadors had fixed and distant +residences, that they might not hold too close an intercourse +with the Polish nobles. Of all things, he was desirous to +obtain an easy access to these chiefs, that he might observe, +and that they might listen. He who would seduce by his +own ingenuity must come in contact with the object he would +corrupt. Yet Montluc persisted in not approaching them +without being sought after, which answered his purpose in the +end. One favourite argument which our Talleyrand had set +afloat, was to show that all the benefits which the different +competitors had promised to the Poles were accompanied by +other circumstances which could not fail to be ruinous to the +country: while the offer of his master, whose interests were +remote, could not be adverse to those of the Polish nation: so +that much good might be expected from him, without any +fear of accompanying evil. Montluc procured a clever +Frenchman to be the bearer of his first despatch, in Latin, +to the diet; which had hardly assembled, ere suspicions and +jealousies were already breaking out. The emperor’s ambassadors +had offended the pride of the Polish nobles by travelling +about the country without leave, and resorting to the infanta; +and besides, in some intercepted letters the Polish nation was +designated as <i>gens barbara et gens inepta</i>. “I do not think that +the said letter was really written by the said ambassadors, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page352" id="page352"></a>352</span> +who were statesmen too politic to employ such unguarded +language,” very ingeniously writes the secretary of Montluc.</p> + +<p>However, it was a blow levelled at the imperial ambassadors; +while the letter of the French bishop, composed “in a humble +and modest style,” began to melt their proud spirits, and two +thousand copies of the French bishop’s letter were eagerly +spread.</p> + +<p>“But this good fortune did not last more than four-and +twenty hours,” mournfully writes our honest secretary; “for +suddenly the news of the fatal day of St. Bartholomew +arrived, and every Frenchman was detested.”</p> + +<p>Montluc, in this distress, published an apology for <i>les +Matinées Parisiennes</i>, which he reduced to some excesses of +the people, the result of a conspiracy plotted by the protestants; +and he adroitly introduced as a personage his master +Anjou, declaring that “he scorned to oppress a party whom +he had so often conquered with sword in hand.” This +pamphlet, which still exists, must have cost the good bishop +some invention; but in elections the lie of the moment serves +a purpose; and although Montluc was in due time bitterly +recriminated on, still the apology served to divide public +opinion.</p> + +<p>Montluc was a whole cabinet to himself: he dispersed +another tract in the character of a Polish gentleman, in which +the French interests were urged by such arguments, that the +leading chiefs never met without disputing; and Montluc +now found that he had succeeded in creating a French party. +The Austrian then employed a real Polish gentleman to write +for his party; but this was too genuine a production, for the +writer wrote too much in earnest; and in politics we must not +be in a passion.</p> + +<p>The mutual jealousies of each party assisted the views of +our negotiator; they would side with him against each other. +The archduke and the czar opposed the Turk; the Muscovite +could not endure that Sweden should be aggrandised by this +new crown; and Denmark was still more uneasy. Montluc +had discovered how every party had its vulnerable point, by +which it could be managed. The cards had now got fairly +shuffled, and he depended on his usual good play.</p> + +<p>Our bishop got hold of a palatine to write for the French +cause in the vernacular tongue; and appears to have held a +more mysterious intercourse with another palatine, Albert +Lasky. Mutual accusations were made in the open diet: the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page353" id="page353"></a>353</span> +Poles accused some Lithuanian lords of having contracted +certain engagements with the czar; these in return accused +the Poles, and particularly this Lasky, with being corrupted +by the gold of France. Another circumstance afterwards +arose; the Spanish ambassador had forty thousand <i>thalers</i> +sent to him, but which never passed the frontiers, as this +fresh supply arrived too late for the election. “I believe,” +writes our secretary with great simplicity, “that this money +was only designed to distribute among the trumpeters and +the tabourines.” The usual expedient in contested elections +was now evidently introduced; our secretary acknowledging +that Montluc daily acquired new supporters, because he did +not attempt to gain them over <i>merely by promises</i>—resting +his whole cause on this argument, that the interest of the +nation was concerned in the French election.</p> + +<p>Still would ill fortune cross our crafty politician when +everything was proceeding smoothly. The massacre was +refreshed with more damning particulars; some letters were +forged, and others were but too true; all parties, with rival +intrepidity, were carrying on a complete scene of deception. +A rumour spread that the French king disavowed his accredited +agent, and apologised to the emperor for having yielded +to the importunities of a political speculator, whom he was +now resolved to recall. This somewhat paralysed the exertions +of those palatines who had involved themselves in the +intrigues of Montluc, who was now forced patiently to wait +for the arrival of a courier with renewed testimonials of his +diplomatic character from the French court. A great odium +was cast on the French in the course of this negotiation by a +distribution of prints, which exposed the most inventive +cruelties practised by the Catholics on the Reformed; such as +women cleaved in half in the act of attempting to snatch +their children from their butchers; while Charles the Ninth +and the Duke of Anjou were hideously represented in their +persons, and as spectators of such horrid tragedies, with +words written in labels, complaining that the executioners +were not zealous enough in this holy work. These prints, +accompanied by libels and by horrid narratives, inflamed the +popular indignation, and more particularly the women, who +were affected to tears, as if these horrid scenes had been passing +before their eyes.</p> + +<p>Montluc replied to the libels as fast as they appeared, +while he skilfully introduced the most elaborate panegyrics +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page354" id="page354"></a>354</span> +on the Duke of Anjou; and in return for the caricatures, he +distributed two portraits of the king and the duke, to show +the ladies, if not the diet, that neither of these princes had +such ferocious and inhuman faces. Such are the small means +by which the politician condescends to work his great designs; +and the very means by which his enemies thought they +should ruin his cause, Montluc adroitly turned to his own advantage. +Anything of instant occurrence serves electioneering +purposes, and Montluc eagerly seized this favourable +occasion to exhaust his imagination on an ideal sovereign, +and to hazard, with address, anecdotes, whose authenticity he +could never have proved, till he perplexed even unwilling +minds to be uncertain whether that intolerant and inhuman +duke was not the most heroic and most merciful of princes. +It is probable that the Frenchman abused even the license of +the French <i>éloge</i>, for a noble Pole told Montluc that he was +always amplifying his duke with such ideal greatness, and +attributing to him such immaculate purity of sentiment, that +it was inferred there was no man in Poland who could +possibly equal him; and that his declaration, that the duke +was not desirous of reigning over Poland to possess the wealth +and grandeur of the kingdom, and that he was solely +ambitious of the honour to be the head of such a great and +virtuous nobility, had offended many lords, who did not believe +that the duke sought the Polish crown <i>merely</i> to be the +sovereign of a virtuous people.</p> + +<p>These Polish statesmen appear, indeed, to have been more +enlightened than the subtle politician perhaps calculated on; +for when Montluc was over anxious to exculpate the Duke of +Anjou from having been an actor in the Parisian massacre, +a noble Pole observed, “That he need not lose his time at +framing any apologies; for if he could prove that it was the +interest of the country that the duke ought to be elected +their king, it was all that was required. His cruelty, were it +true, would be no reason to prevent his election, for we have +nothing to dread from it: once in our kingdom, he will have +more reason to fear us than we him, should he ever attempt +our lives, our property, or our liberty.”</p> + +<p>Another Polish lord, whose scruples were as pious as his +patriotism was suspicious, however observed that, in his conferences +with the French bishop, the bishop had never once +mentioned God, whom all parties ought to implore to touch +the hearts of the electors in the choice of God’s “anointed.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page355" id="page355"></a>355</span> +Montluc might have felt himself unexpectedly embarrassed +at the religious scruples of this lord, but the politician was +never at a fault. “Speaking to a man of letters, as his lordship +was,” replied the French bishop, “it was not for him to +remind his lordship what he so well knew; but since he had +touched on the subject, he would, however, say, that were a +sick man desirous of having a physician, the friend who undertook +to procure one would not do his duty should he say +it was necessary to call in one whom God had chosen to +restore his health; but another who should say that the most +learned and skilful is he whom God has chosen, would be +doing the best for the patient, and evince most judgment. +By a parity of reason we must believe that God will not send +an angel to point out the man whom he would have his +anointed; sufficient for us that God has given us a knowledge +of the requisites of a good king; and if the Polish gentlemen +choose such a sovereign, it will be him whom God has chosen.” +This shrewd argument delighted the Polish lord, who repeated +the story in different companies, to the honour of the bishop. +“And in this manner,” adds the secretary with great <i>naïveté</i>, +“did the <i>sieur</i>, strengthened by good arguments, divulge his +opinions, which were received by many, and run from hand +to hand.”</p> + +<p>Montluc had his inferior manœuvres. He had to equipoise +the opposite interests of the Catholics and the Evangelists, +or the Reformed: it was mingling fire and water without +suffering them to hiss, or to extinguish one another. When +the imperial ambassadors gave <i>fêtes</i> to the higher nobility +only, they consequently offended the lesser. The Frenchman +gave no banquets, but his house was open to all at all times, +who were equally welcome. “You will see that the <i>fêtes</i> of +the imperialists will do them more harm than good,” observed +Montluc to his secretary.</p> + +<p>Having gained over by every possible contrivance a number +of the Polish nobles, and showered his courtesies on those of +the inferior orders, at length the critical moment approached, +and the finishing hand was to be put to the work. Poland, +with the appearance of a popular government, was a singular +aristocracy of a hundred thousand electors, consisting of the +higher and the lower nobility, and the gentry; the people +had no concern with the government. Yet still it was to be +treated by the politician as a popular government, where +those who possessed the greatest influence over such large +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page356" id="page356"></a>356</span> +assemblies were orators, and he who delivered himself with the +most fluency and the most pertinent arguments would infallibly +bend every heart to the point he wished. The French +bishop depended greatly on the effect which his oration was +to produce when the ambassadors were respectively to be heard +before the assembled diet; the great and concluding act of so +many tedious and difficult negotiations—“which had cost my +master,” writes the ingenuous secretary, “six months’ daily +and nightly labours; he had never been assisted or comforted +by any but his poor servants, and in the course of these +six months had written ten reams of paper, a thing which +for forty years he had not used himself to.”</p> + +<p>Every ambassador was now to deliver an oration before the +assembled electors, and thirty-two copies were to be printed, +to present one to each palatine, who in his turn was to communicate +it to his lords. But a fresh difficulty occurred to +the French negotiator; as he trusted greatly to his address +influencing the multitude, and creating a popular opinion in +his favour, he regretted to find that the imperial ambassador +would deliver his speech in the Bohemian language, so that +he would be understood by the greater part of the assembly; +a considerable advantage over Montluc, who could only address +them in Latin. The inventive genius of the French bishop +resolved on two things which had never before been practised: +first, to have his Latin translated into the vernacular idiom; +and, secondly, to print an edition of fifteen hundred copies in +both languages, and thus to obtain a vast advantage over the +other ambassadors, with their thirty-two manuscript copies, +of which each copy was used to be read to 1200 persons. +The great difficulty was to get it secretly translated and +printed. This fell to the management of Choisnin, the +secretary. He set off to the castle of the palatine, Solikotski, +who was deep in the French interest; Solikotski despatched +the version in six days. Hastening with the precious MS. +to Cracow, Choisnin flew to a trusty printer, with whom +he was connected; the sheets were deposited every night at +Choisnin’s lodgings, and at the end of a fortnight the diligent +secretary conducted the 1500 copies in secret triumph to +Warsaw.</p> + +<p>Yet this glorious labour was not ended; Montluc was in +no haste to deliver his wonder-working oration, on which the +fate of a crown seemed to depend. When his turn came to +be heard, he suddenly fell sick; the fact was, that he wished +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page357" id="page357"></a>357</span> +to speak last, which would give him the advantage of replying +to any objection raised by his rivals, and admit also of an +attack on their weak points.</p> + +<p>He contrived to obtain copies of their harangues, and discovered +five points which struck at the French interest. Our +poor bishop had now to sit up through the night to re-write +five leaves of his printed oration, and cancel five which had +been printed; and worse! he had to get them by heart, and +to have them translated and inserted, by employing twenty +scribes day and night. “It is scarcely credible what my +master went through about this time,” saith the historian of +his “gestes.”</p> + +<p>The council or diet was held in a vast plain. Twelve pavilions +were raised to receive the Polish nobility and the ambassadors. +One of a circular form was supported by a single +mast, and was large enough to contain 6000 persons, without +any one approaching the mast nearer than by twenty steps, +leaving this space void to preserve silence; the different orders +were placed around; the archbishop and the bishops, the +palatines, the castellans, each according to their rank. During +the six weeks of the sittings of the diet, 100,000 horses were +in the environs, yet forage and every sort of provisions +abounded. There were no disturbances, not a single quarrel +occurred, although there wanted not in that meeting for +enmities of long standing. It was strange, and even awful, +to view such a mighty assembly preserving the greatest order, +and every one seriously intent on this solemn occasion.</p> + +<p>At length the elaborate oration was delivered: it lasted +three hours, and Choisnin assures us not a single auditor felt +weary. “A cry of joy broke out from the tent, and was re-echoed +through the plain, when Montluc ceased: it was a +public acclamation; and had the election been fixed for that +moment, when all hearts were warm, surely the duke had +been chosen without a dissenting voice.” Thus writes, in +rapture, the ingenuous secretary; and in the spirit of the +times communicates a delightful augury attending this speech, +by which evidently was foreseen its happy termination. +“Those who disdain all things will take this to be a mere +invention of mine,” says honest Choisnin: “but true it is, that +while the said <i>sieur</i> delivered his harangue, a lark was seen all +the while upon the mast of the pavilion, singing and warbling, +which was remarked by a great number of lords, because the +lark is accustomed only to rest itself on the earth: the most +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page358" id="page358"></a>358</span> +impartial confessed this to be a good augury.<a name="FnAnchor_236" id="FnAnchor_236" href="#Footnote_236"><span class="sp">236</span></a> Also it was +observed, that when the other ambassadors were speaking, a +hare, and at another time a hog, ran through the tent; and +when the Swedish ambassador spoke, the great tent fell half-way +down. This lark singing all the while did no little good +to our cause; for many of the nobles and gentry noticed this +curious particularity, because when a thing which does not +commonly happen occurs in a public affair, such appearances +give rise to hopes either of good or of evil.”</p> + +<p>The singing of this lark in favour of the Duke of Anjou is +not so evident as the cunning trick of the other French +agent, the political Bishop of Valence, who now reaped the +full advantage of his 1500 copies over the thirty-two of his +rivals. Every one had the French one in hand, or read it to +his friends; while the others, in manuscript, were confined to +a very narrow circle.</p> + +<p>The period from the 10th of April to the 6th of May, +when they proceeded to the election, proved to be an interval +of infinite perplexities, troubles, and activity; it is probable +that the secret history of this period of the negotiations was +never written. The other ambassadors were for protracting +the election, perceiving the French interest prevalent: but +delay would not serve the purpose of Montluc, he not being +so well provided with friends and means on the spot as the +others were. The public opinion which he had succeeded in +creating, by some unforeseen circumstance might change.</p> + +<p>During this interval, the bishop had to put several agents +of the other parties <i>hors de combat</i>. He got rid of a formidable +adversary in the Cardinal Commendon, an agent of the +pope’s, whom he proved ought not to be present at the election, +and the cardinal was ordered to take his departure. A +bullying colonel was set upon the French negotiator, and +went about from tent to tent with a list of the debts of the +Duke of Anjou, to show that the nation could expect nothing +profitable from a ruined spendthrift. The page of a Polish +count flew to Montluc for protection, entreating permission to +accompany the bishop on his return to Paris. The servants +of the count pursued the page; but this young gentleman +had so insinuated himself into the favour of the bishop, that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page359" id="page359"></a>359</span> +he was suffered to remain. The next day the page desired +Montluc would grant him the full liberty of his religion, +being an evangelical, that he might communicate this to his +friends, and thus fix them to the French party. Montluc +was too penetrating for this young political agent, whom he +discovered to be a spy, and the pursuit of his fellows to have +been a farce; he sent the page back to his master, the evangelical +count, observing that such tricks were too gross to be +played on one who had managed affairs in all the courts of +Europe before he came into Poland.</p> + +<p>Another alarm was raised by a letter from the grand vizier +of Selim the Second, addressed to the diet, in which he requested +that they would either choose a king from among +themselves, or elect the brother of the King of France. +Some zealous Frenchman at the Sublime Porte had officiously +procured this recommendation from the enemy of Christianity; +but an alliance with Mahometanism did no service +to Montluc, either with the catholics or the evangelicals. +The bishop was in despair, and thought that his handiwork +of six months’ toil and trouble was to be shook into pieces in +an hour. Montluc, being shown the letter, instantly insisted +that it was a forgery, designed to injure his master the duke. +The letter was attended by some suspicious circumstances; +and the French bishop, quick at expedients, snatched at an +advantage which the politician knows how to lay hold of in +the chapter of accidents. “The letter was not sealed with +the golden seal, nor enclosed in a silken purse or cloth of +gold; and farther, if they examined the translation,” he said, +“they would find that it was not written on Turkish +paper.” This was a piece of the <i>sieur’s</i> good fortune, for the +letter was not forged; but owing to the circumstance that +the Boyar of Wallachia had taken out the letter to send a +translation with it, which the vizier had omitted, it arrived +without its usual accompaniments; and the courier, when +inquired after, was kept out of the way: so that, in a few days, +nothing more was heard of the great vizier’s letter. +“Such was our fortunate escape,” says the secretary, “from +the friendly but fatal interference of the sultan, than which +the <i>sieur</i> dreaded nothing so much.”</p> + +<p>Many secret agents of the different powers were spinning +their dark intrigues; and often, when discovered or disconcerted, +the creatures were again at their “dirty work.” +These agents were conveniently disavowed or acknowledged +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page360" id="page360"></a>360</span> +by their employers. The Abbé Cyre was an active agent of +the emperor’s, and though not publicly accredited, was still +hovering about. In Lithuania he had contrived matters so +well as to have gained over that important province for the +archduke; and was passing through Prussia to hasten to +communicate with the emperor, but “some honest men,” +<i>quelques bons personnages</i>, says the French secretary, and no +doubt some good friends of his master, “took him by surprise, +and laid him up safely in the castle of Marienburgh, +where truly he was a little uncivilly used by the soldiers, +who rifled his portmanteau and sent us his papers, when we +discovered all his foul practices.” The emperor, it seems, +was angry at the arrest of his secret agent; but as no one +had the power of releasing the Abbé Cyre at that moment, +what with receiving remonstrances and furnishing replies, +the time passed away, and a very troublesome adversary was +in safe custody during the election. The dissensions between +the catholics and the evangelicals were always on the point +of breaking out; but Montluc succeeded in quieting these +inveterate parties by terrifying their imaginations with sanguinary +civil wars, and invasions of the Turks and the Tartars. +He satisfied the catholics with the hope that time +would put an end to heresy, and the evangelicals were glad +to obtain a truce from persecution. The day before the election +Montluc found himself so confident, that he despatched +a courier to the French court, and expressed himself in the +true style of a speculative politician, that <i>des douze tables du +Damier nous en avons les Neufs assurés</i>.</p> + +<p>There were preludes to the election; and the first was +probably in acquiescence with a saturnalian humour prevalent +in some countries, where the lower orders are only allowed +to indulge their taste for the mockery of the great at stated +times and on fixed occasions. A droll scene of a mock election, +as well as combat, took place between the numerous +Polish pages, who, saith the grave secretary, are still more +mischievous than our own: these elected among themselves +four competitors, made a senate to burlesque the diet, and +went to loggerheads. Those who represented the archduke +were well beaten, the Swede was hunted down, and for the +<i>Piastis</i>, they seized on a cart belonging to a gentleman, laden +with provisions, broke it to pieces, and burnt the axle-tree, +which in that country is called a <i>piasti</i>, and cried out <i>The +Piasti is burnt!</i> nor could the senators at the diet that day +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page361" id="page361"></a>361</span> +command any order or silence. The French party wore +white handkerchiefs in their hats, and they were so numerous +as to defeat the others.</p> + +<p>The next day, however, opened a different scene; “the +nobles prepared to deliberate, and each palatine in his quarters +was with his companions on their knees, and many with +tears in their eyes, chanting a hymn to the Holy Ghost; it +must be confessed that this looked like a work of God,” says +our secretary, who probably understood the manœuvring of +the mock combat, or the mock prayers, much better than we +may. Everything tells at an election, burlesque or solemnity!</p> + +<p>The election took place, and the Duke of Anjou was proclaimed +King of Poland—but the troubles of Montluc did +not terminate. When they presented certain articles for his +signature, the bishop discovered that these had undergone +material alterations from the proposals submitted to him +before the proclamation; these alterations referred to a disavowal +of the Parisian massacre; the punishment of its +authors, and toleration in religion. Montluc refused to sign, +and cross-examined his Polish friends about the original proposals; +one party agreed that some things had been changed, +but that they were too trivial to lose a crown for; others +declared that the alterations were necessary to allay the +fears, or secure the safety, of the people. Our Gallic diplomatist +was outwitted, and after all his intrigues and cunning, +he found that the crown of Poland was only to be delivered +on conditional terms.</p> + +<p>In this dilemma, with a crown depending on a stroke of +his pen,—remonstrating, entreating, arguing, and still delaying, +like “Ancient Pistol” swallowing his leek, he witnessed +with alarm some preparations for a new election, and his +rivals on the watch with their protests. Montluc, in despair, +signed the conditions—“assured, however,” says the secretary, +who groans over this <i>finale</i>, “that when the elected monarch +should arrive, the states would easily be induced to correct +them, and place things in <i>statu quo</i>, as before the proclamation. +I was not a witness, being then despatched to Paris +with the joyful news, but I heard that the <i>sieur evesque</i> it +was thought would have died in this agony, of being reduced +to the hard necessity either to sign, or to lose the fruits of +his labours. The conditions were afterwards for a long while +disputed in France.” De Thou informs us, in lib. lvii. of his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page362" id="page362"></a>362</span> +history, that Montluc after signing these conditions wrote to +his master, that he was not bound by them, because they did +not concern Poland in general, and that they had compelled +him to sign, what at the same time he had informed them +his instructions did not authorise. Such was the true Jesuitic +conduct of a grey-haired politician, who at length found that +honest plain sense could embarrass and finally entrap the +creature of the cabinet, the artificial genius of diplomatic +finesse.</p> + +<p>The secretary, however, views nothing but his master’s +glory in the issue of this most difficult negotiation; and the +triumph of Anjou over the youthful archduke, whom the +Poles might have moulded to their will, and over the King of +Sweden, who claimed the crown by his queen’s side, and had +offered to unite his part of Livonia with that which the +Poles possessed. He labours hard to prove that the palatines +and the castellans were not <i>pratiqués</i>, i.e., had their votes +bought up by Montluc, as was reported; from their number +and their opposite interests, he confesses that the <i>sieur evesque</i> +slept little, while in Poland, and that he only gained over +the hearts of men by that natural gift of God which acquired +him the title of the <i>happy ambassador</i>. He rather seems to +regret that France was not prodigal of her purchase-money, +than to affirm that all palatines were alike scrupulous of their +honour.</p> + +<p>One more fact may close this political sketch; a lesson of +the nature of court gratitude! The French court affected to +receive Choisnin with favour, but their suppressed discontent +was reserved for “the happy ambassador!” Affairs had +changed; Charles the Ninth was dying, and Catharine de’ +Medici in despair for a son to whom she had sacrificed all; +while Anjou, already immersed in the wantonness of youth +and pleasure, considered his elevation to the throne of Poland +as an exile which separated him from his depraved enjoyments! +Montluc was rewarded only by incurring disgrace; +Catharine de’ Medici and the Duke of Anjou now looked +coldly on him, and expressed their dislike of his successful +mission. “The mother of kings,” as Choisnin designates +Catharine de’ Medici, to whom he addresses his memoirs, +with the hope of awakening her recollections of the zeal, the +genius, and the success of his old master, had no longer any +use for her favourite; and Montluc found, as the commentator +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page363" id="page363"></a>363</span> +of Choisnin expresses in a few words, an important truth in +political morality, that “at court the interest of the moment +is the measure of its affections and its hatreds.”<a name="FnAnchor_237" id="FnAnchor_237" href="#Footnote_237"><span class="sp">237</span></a></p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_236" id="Footnote_236" href="#FnAnchor_236"><span class="fn">236</span></a> Our honest secretary reminds me of a passage in Geoffrey of Monmouth, +who says, “At this place an <i>eagle spoke</i> while the wall of the town +was building; and indeed I should not have failed <i>transmitting the speech +to posterity</i> had I thought it <i>true</i> as the rest of the history.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_237" id="Footnote_237" href="#FnAnchor_237"><span class="fn">237</span></a> I have drawn up this article, for the curiosity of its subject and its +details, from the “Discours au vray de tout ce qui s’est fait et passé pour +l’entière Négociation de l’Election du Roi de Pologne, divisés en trois +livres, par Jehan Choisnin du Chatelleraud, naguères Secrétaire de M. +l’Evesque de Valence,” 1574.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>BUILDINGS IN THE METROPOLIS, AND RESIDENCE IN +THE COUNTRY.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Recently</span> more than one of our learned judges from the +bench have perhaps astonished their auditors by impressing +them with an old-fashioned notion of residing more on their +estates than the fashionable modes of life and the <i>esprit de +société</i>, now overpowering all other <i>esprit</i>, will ever admit. +These opinions excited my attention to a curious circumstance +in the history of our manners—the great anxiety of our +government, from the days of Elizabeth till much later than +those of Charles the Second, to preserve the kingdom from +the evils of an overgrown metropolis. The people themselves +indeed participated in the same alarm at the growth of the +city; while, however, they themselves were perpetuating the +grievance which they complained of.</p> + +<p>It is amusing to observe, that although the government +was frequently employing even their most forcible acts to +restrict the limits of the metropolis, the suburbs were gradually +incorporating with the city, and Westminster at length +united itself to London. Since that happy marriage, their +fertile progenies have so blended together, that little Londons +are no longer distinguishable from the ancient parent; we +have succeeded in spreading the capital into a county, and +have verified the prediction of James the First, “that England +will shortly be London, and London England.”</p> + +<p>“I think it a great object,” said Justice Best, in delivering +his sentiments in favour of the Game Laws, “that gentlemen +should have a temptation <i>to reside in the country, amongst +their neighbours and tenantry, whose interests must be materially +advanced by such a circumstance</i>. The links of +society are thereby better preserved, and <i>the mutual advantages +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page364" id="page364"></a>364</span> +and dependence of the higher and lower classes</i> on one +another are better maintained. The baneful effects of our +present system we have lately seen in a neighbouring country, +and an ingenious French writer has lately shown the ill consequences +of it on the continent.”<a name="FnAnchor_238" id="FnAnchor_238" href="#Footnote_238"><span class="sp">238</span></a></p> + +<p>These sentiments of a living luminary of the law afford +some reason of policy for the dread which our government +long entertained on account of the perpetual growth of the +metropolis; the nation, like a hypochondriac, was ludicrously +terrified that their head was too monstrous for their body, +and that it drew all the moisture of life from the middle and +the extremities. Proclamations warned and exhorted; but +the very interference of a royal prohibition seemed to render +the crowded city more charming. In vain the statute against +new buildings was passed by Elizabeth; in vain during the +reigns of James the First and both the Charleses we find +proclamations continually issuing to forbid new erections.</p> + +<p>James was apt to throw out his opinions in these frequent +addresses to the people, who never attended to them: his +majesty notices “those swarms of gentry, who through the +instigation of their wives, or to new-model and fashion their +daughters (who if they were unmarried, marred their reputations, +and if married, lost them), did neglect their country +hospitality, and cumber the city, a general nuisance to the +kingdom.”—He addressed the Star Chamber to regulate “the +exorbitancy of the new buildings about the city, which were +but a shelter for those who, when they had spent their estates +in coaches, lacqueys, and fine clothes like Frenchmen, lived +miserably in their houses like Italians; but the honour of +the English nobility and gentry is to be hospitable among +their tenants.” Once conversing on this subject, the monarch +threw out that happy illustration, which has been more than +once noticed, that “Gentlemen resident on their estates were +like ships in port; their value and magnitude were felt and +acknowledged; but when at a distance, as their size seemed +insignificant, so their worth and importance were not duly +estimated.”<a name="FnAnchor_239" id="FnAnchor_239" href="#Footnote_239"><span class="sp">239</span></a></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page365" id="page365"></a>365</span></p> + +<p>A manuscript writer of the times complains of the breaking +up of old family establishments, all crowding to “upstart +London.” “Every one strives to be a Diogenes in his house, +and an emperor in the streets; not caring if they sleep in a +tub, so they may be hurried in a coach: giving that allowance +to horses and mares that formerly maintained houses +full of men; pinching many a belly to paint a few backs, and +burying all the treasures of the kingdom into a few citizens’ +coffers; their woods into wardrobes, their leases into laces, +and their goods and chattels into guarded coats and gaudy +toys.” Such is the representation of an eloquent contemporary; +and however contracted might have been his knowledge +of the principles of political economy, and of that prosperity +which a wealthy nation is said to derive from its consumption +of articles of luxury, the moral effects have not altered, nor +has the scene in reality greatly changed.</p> + +<p>The government not only frequently forbade new buildings +within ten miles of London, but sometimes ordered them to +be pulled down—after they had been erected for several years. +Every six or seven years proclamations were issued. In +Charles the First’s reign, offenders were sharply prosecuted +by a combined operation, not only against <i>houses</i>, but against +<i>persons</i>.<a name="FnAnchor_240" id="FnAnchor_240" href="#Footnote_240"><span class="sp">240</span></a> Many of the nobility and gentry, in 1632, were +informed against for having resided in the city, contrary to +the late proclamation. And the Attorney-General was then +fully occupied in filing bills of indictment against them, as +well as ladies, for staying in town. The following curious +“information” in the Star Chamber will serve our purpose.</p> + +<p>The Attorney-General informs his majesty that both Elizabeth +and James, by several proclamations, had commanded +that “persons of livelihood and means should reside in their +counties, and not abide or sojourn in the city of London, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page366" id="page366"></a>366</span> +so that counties remain unserved.” These proclamations were +renewed by Charles the First, who had observed “a greater +number of nobility and gentry, and abler sort of people, with +their families, had resorted to the cities of London and Westminster, +residing there, contrary to the ancient usage of the +English nation”—“by their abiding in their several counties +where their means arise, they would not only have served his +majesty according to their ranks, but by their <i>housekeeping +in those parts the meaner sort of people formerly were guided, +directed and relieved</i>.” He accuses them of wasting their +estates in the metropolis, which would employ and relieve +the common people in their several counties. The loose and +disorderly people that follow them, living in and about the +cities, are so numerous, that they are not easily governed by +the ordinary magistrates: mendicants increase in great number—the +prices of all commodities are highly raised, &c. The +king had formerly proclaimed that all ranks who were not +connected with public offices, at the close of forty days’ notice, +should resort to their several counties, and with their +families continue their residence there. And his majesty further +warned them “Not to put themselves to unnecessary charge +in providing themselves to return in winter to the said cities, +as it was the king’s firm resolution to withstand such great +and growing evil.” The information concludes with a most +copious list of offenders, among whom are a great number of +nobility, and ladies and gentlemen, who were accused of +having lived in London for several months after the given +warning of forty days. It appears that most of them, to +elude the grasp of the law, had contrived to make a show of +quitting the metropolis, and, after a short absence, had +again returned; “and thus the service of <i>your majesty</i> and +<i>your people</i> in the several counties have been neglected and +undone.”</p> + +<p>Such is the substance of this curious information, which +enables us at least to collect the ostensible motives of this +singular prohibition. Proclamations had hitherto been considered +little more than the news of the morning, and three +days afterwards were as much read as the last week’s newspapers. +They were now, however, resolved to stretch forth +the strong arm of law, and to terrify by an example. The +constables were commanded to bring in a list of the names of +strangers, and the time they proposed to fix their residence +in their parishes. A remarkable victim on this occasion was a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page367" id="page367"></a>367</span> +Mr. Palmer, a Sussex gentleman, who was brought <i>ore tenus</i> +into the Star Chamber for disobeying the proclamation for +living in the country. Palmer was a squire of 1000<i>l.</i> per +annum, then a considerable income. He appears to have been +some rich bachelor; for in his defence he alleged that he had +never been married, never was a housekeeper, and had no +house fitting for a man of his birth to reside in, as his mansion +in the country had been burnt down within two years. +These reasons appeared to his judges to aggravate rather than +extenuate his offence; and after a long reprimand for having +deserted his tenants and neighbours, they heavily fined him +in one thousand pounds.<a name="FnAnchor_241" id="FnAnchor_241" href="#Footnote_241"><span class="sp">241</span></a></p> + +<p>The condemnation of this Sussex gentleman struck a terror +through a wide circle of sojourners in the metropolis. I find +accounts, pathetic enough, of their “packing away on all sides +for fear of the worst;” and gentlemen “grumbling that they +should be confined to their houses:” and this was sometimes +backed too by a second proclamation, respecting “their wives +and families, and also widows,” which was “<i>durus sermo</i> to +the women. It is nothing pleasing to all,” says the letter-writer, +“but least of all to the women.” “To encourage +gentlemen to live more willingly in the country,” says another +letter-writer, “all game-fowl, as pheasants, partridges, +ducks, as also hares, are this day by proclamation forbidden +to be dressed or eaten in any inn.” Here we find realized +the argument of Mr. Justice Best in favour of the game-laws.</p> + +<p>It is evident that this severe restriction must have produced +great inconvenience to certain persons who found a +residence in London necessary for their pursuits. This appears +from the manuscript diary of an honest antiquary, Sir +Symonds D’Ewes; he has preserved an opinion which, no +doubt, was spreading fast, that such prosecutions of the +Attorney-General were a violation of the liberty of the subject. +“Most men wondered at Mr. Noy, the Attorney-General, +being accounted a great lawyer, that so strictly <i>took +away men’s liberties at one blow, confining them to reside at +their own houses</i>, and not permitting them freedom to live +where they pleased within the king’s dominions. I was +myself a little startled upon the first coming out of the proclamation; +but having first spoken with the Lord Coventry, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page368" id="page368"></a>368</span> +Lord Keeper of the Great Seal, at Islington, when I visited +him; and afterwards with Sir William Jones, one of the +King’s Justices of the Bench, about my condition and residence +at the said town of Islington, and they both agreeing +that I was not within the letter of the proclamation, nor the +intention of it neither, I rested satisfied, and thought myself +secure, laying in all my provisions for housekeeping for the +year ensuing, and never imagined myself to be in danger, till +this unexpected censure of Mr. Palmer passed in the Star +Chamber; so, having advised with my friends, I resolved for +a remove, being much troubled not only with my separation +from Recordes, but with my wife, being great with child, +fearing a winter journey might be dangerous to her.”<a name="FnAnchor_242" id="FnAnchor_242" href="#Footnote_242"><span class="sp">242</span></a> He +left Islington and the records in the Tower to return to his +country-seat, to the great disturbance of his studies.</p> + +<p>It is, perhaps, difficult to assign the cause of this marked +anxiety of the government for the severe restriction of the +limits of the metropolis, and the prosecution of the nobility +and gentry to compel a residence on their estates. Whatever +were the motives, they were not peculiar to the existing +sovereign, but remained transmitted from cabinet to cabinet, +and were even renewed under Charles the Second. At a time +when the plague often broke out, a close and growing metropolis +might have been considered to be a great evil; a terror +expressed by the manuscript-writer before quoted, complaining +of “this deluge of building, that we shall be all poisoned with +breathing in one another’s faces.” The police of the metropolis +was long imbecile, notwithstanding their “strong +watches and guards” set at times; and bodies of the idle and +the refractory often assumed some mysterious title, and were +with difficulty governed. We may conceive the state of the +police, when “London apprentices,” growing in number and +insolence, frequently made attempts on Bridewell, or pulled +down houses. One day the citizens, in proving some ordnance, +terrified the whole court of James the First with a +panic that there was “a rising in the city.” It is possible +that the government might have been induced to pursue this +singular conduct, for I do not know that it can be paralleled, +of pulling down new-built houses by some principle of political +economy which remains to be explained, or ridiculed, by +our modern adepts. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page369" id="page369"></a>369</span> +It would hardly be supposed that the present subject may +be enlivened by a poem, the elegance and freedom of which +may even now be admired. It is a great literary curiosity, +and its length may be excused for several remarkable points.</p> + +<p> </p> +<h5>AN ODE,</h5> + +<h6>BY SIR RICHARD FANSHAW,</h6> + +<p class="center1 f90"><i>Upon Occasion of his Majesty’s Proclamation in the Year 1630, commanding +the Gentry to reside upon their Estates in the Country.</i></p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Now war is all the world about,</p> +<p>And everywhere Erinnys reigns;</p> +<p>Or of the torch so late put out</p> + <p class="i10">The stench remains.</p> +<p>Holland for many years hath been</p> +<p>Of Christian tragedies the stage,</p> +<p>Yet seldom hath she played a scene</p> + <p class="i10">Of bloodier rage:</p> +<p>And France, that was not long compos’d,</p> +<p>With civil drums again resounds,</p> +<p>And ere the old are fully clos’d,</p> + <p class="i10">Receives new wounds.</p> +<p>The great Gustavus in the west</p> +<p>Plucks the imperial eagle’s wing,</p> +<p>Than whom the earth did ne’er invest</p> + <p class="i10">A fiercer king.</p> +<p>Only the island which we sow,</p> +<p>A world without the world so far,</p> +<p>From present wounds, it cannot show</p> + <p class="i10">An ancient scar.</p> +<p>White peace, the beautifull’st of things,</p> +<p>Seems here her everlasting rest</p> +<p>To fix and spread the downy wings</p> + <p class="i10">Over the nest.</p> +<p>As when great Jove, usurping reign,</p> +<p>From the plagued world did her exile,</p> +<p>And tied her with a golden chain</p> + <p class="i10">To one blest isle,</p> +<p>Which in a sea of plenty swam,</p> +<p>And turtles sang on every bough,</p> +<p>A safe retreat to all that came,</p> + <p class="i10">As ours is now;</p> +<p>Yet we, as if some foe were here,</p> +<p>Leave the despised fields to clowns,</p> +<p>And come to save ourselves, as ’twere</p> + <p class="i10">In walled towns.</p> +<p>Hither we bring wives, babes, rich clothes,</p> +<p>And gems—till now my soveraign</p> +<p>The growing evil doth oppose:</p> + <p class="i10">Counting in vain</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page370" id="page370"></a>370</span></p> +<p>His care preserves us from annoy</p> +<p>Of enemies his realms to invade,</p> +<p>Unless he force us to enjoy</p> + <p class="i10">The peace he made,</p> +<p>To roll themselves in envied leisure;</p> +<p>He therefore sends the landed heirs,</p> +<p>Whilst he proclaims not his own pleasure</p> + <p class="i10">So much was theirs.</p> +<p>The sap and blood of the land, which fled</p> +<p>Into the root, and choked the heart,</p> +<p>Are bid their quick’ning power to spread</p> + <p class="i10">Through every part.</p> +<p>O ’twas an act, not for my muse</p> +<p>To celebrate, nor the dull age,</p> +<p>Until the country air infuse</p> + <p class="i10">A purer rage.</p> +<p>And if the fields as thankful prove</p> +<p>For benefits received, as seed,</p> +<p>They will to ’quite so great a love</p> + <p class="i10">A Virgil breed.</p> +<p>Nor let the gentry grudge to go</p> +<p>Into those places whence they grew,</p> +<p>But think them blest they may do so.</p> + <p class="i10">Who would pursue</p> +<p>The smoky glory of the town,</p> +<p>That may go till his native earth,</p> +<p>And by the shining fire sit down</p> + <p class="i10">Of his own hearth,</p> +<p>Free from the griping scrivener’s bands,</p> +<p>And the more biting mercer’s books;</p> +<p>Free from the bait of oiled hands,</p> + <p class="i10">And painted looks?</p> +<p>The country too even chops for rain;</p> +<p>You that exhale it by your power,</p> +<p>Let the fat drops fall down again</p> + <p class="i10">In a full shower.</p> +<p>And you bright beauties of the time,</p> +<p>That waste yourselves here in a blaze,</p> +<p>Fix to your orb and proper clime</p> + <p class="i10">Your wandering rays.</p> +<p>Let no dark corner of the land</p> +<p>Be unembellish’d with one gem,</p> +<p>And those which here too thick do stand</p> + <p class="i10">Sprinkle on them.</p> +<p>Believe me, ladies, you will find</p> +<p>In that sweet light more solid joys,</p> +<p>More true contentment to the mind</p> + <p class="i10">Than all town-toys.</p> +<p>Nor Cupid there less blood doth spill,</p> +<p>But heads his shafts with chaster love,</p> +<p>Not feather’d with a sparrow’s quill,</p> + <p class="i10">But of a dove.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page371" id="page371"></a>371</span></p> +<p>There you shall hear the nightingale,</p> +<p>The harmless syren of the wood,</p> +<p>How prettily she tells a tale</p> + <p class="i10">Of rape and blood.</p> +<p>The lyric lark, with all beside</p> +<p>Of Nature’s feather’d quire, and all</p> +<p>The commonwealth of flowers in ’ts pride</p> + <p class="i10">Behold you shall.</p> +<p>The lily queen, the royal rose,</p> +<p>The gilly-flower, prince of the blood!</p> +<p>The courtier tulip, gay in clothes,</p> + <p class="i10">The regal bud;</p> +<p>The violet purple senator,</p> +<p>How they do mock the pomp of state,</p> +<p>And all that at the surly door</p> + <p class="i10">Of great ones wait.</p> +<p>Plant trees you may, and see them shoot</p> +<p>Up with your children, to be served</p> +<p>To your clean boards, and the fairest fruit</p> + <p class="i10">To be preserved;</p> +<p>And learn to use their several gums;</p> +<p>’Tis innocence in the sweet blood</p> +<p>Of cherry, apricocks, and plums,</p> + <p class="i10">To be imbrued.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_238" id="Footnote_238" href="#FnAnchor_238"><span class="fn">238</span></a> <i>Morning Chronicle</i>, January 23, 1820.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_239" id="Footnote_239" href="#FnAnchor_239"><span class="fn">239</span></a> A proclamation was issued in the first year of King James, “commanding +gentlemen to depart the court and city,” because it hinders hospitality +and endangers the people near their own residences, “who had from +such houses much comfort and ease toward their living.” The King graciously +says:—“He tooke no small contentment in the resort of gentlemen, +and other our subjects coming to visit us, holding their affectionate +desire to see our person to be a certaine testimonie of their inward love;” +but he says he must not “give way to so great a mischiefe as the continuall +resort may breed,” and that therefore all that have no special cause +of attendance must at once go back until the time of his coronation, when +they may “returne until the solemnity be passed;” but only for that time, +for if the proclamation be slighted he shall “make them an example of +contempt if we shall finde any making stay here contrary to this direction.” +Such proclamations were from time to time issued, and though +sometimes evaded, were frequently enforced by fines, so that living in +London was a risk and danger to country gentlemen of fortune.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_240" id="Footnote_240" href="#FnAnchor_240"><span class="fn">240</span></a> Rushworth, vol. ii. p. 288.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_241" id="Footnote_241" href="#FnAnchor_241"><span class="fn">241</span></a> From a manuscript letter from Sir George Gresley to Sir Thomas +Puckering, Nov. 1632.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_242" id="Footnote_242" href="#FnAnchor_242"><span class="fn">242</span></a> Harl. MSS. 6. fo. 152.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>ROYAL PROCLAMATIONS.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">The</span> satires and the comedies of the age have been consulted +by the historian of our manners, and the features of the times +have been traced from those amusing records of folly. Daines +Barrinton enlarged this field of domestic history in his very +entertaining “Observations on the Statutes.” Another source, +which to me seems not to have been explored, is the proclamations +which have frequently issued from our sovereigns, and +were produced by the exigencies of the times.</p> + +<p>These proclamations or royal edicts in our country were +never armed with the force of laws—only as they enforce the +execution of laws already established; and the proclamation +of a British monarch may become even an illegal act, if it be +in opposition to the law of the land. Once, indeed, it was +enacted under the arbitrary government of Henry the Eighth, +by the sanction of a pusillanimous parliament, that the force +of acts of parliament should be given to the king’s proclamations; +and at a much later period the chancellor, Lord Ellesmere, +was willing to have advanced the king’s proclamations +into laws, on the sophistical maxim that “all precedents had +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page372" id="page372"></a>372</span> +a time when they began;” but this chancellor argued ill, as +he was told with spirit by Lord Coke, in the presence of +James the First,<a name="FnAnchor_243" id="FnAnchor_243" href="#Footnote_243"><span class="sp">243</span></a> who probably did not think so ill of the +chancellor’s logic. Blackstone, to whom on this occasion I +could not fail to turn, observes, on the statute under Henry +the Eighth, that it would have introduced the most despotic +tyranny, and must have proved fatal to the liberties of this +kingdom, had it not been luckily repealed in the minority of +his successor, whom he elsewhere calls an amiable prince—all +our young princes, we discover, were amiable! Blackstone +has not recorded the subsequent attempt of the lord chancellor +under James the First, which tended to raise proclamations +to the nature of an ukase of the autocrat of both the +Russias. It seems that our national freedom, notwithstanding +our ancient constitution, has had several narrow escapes.</p> + +<p>Royal proclamations, however, in their own nature are +innocent enough; for since the manner, time, and circumstances +of putting laws in execution must frequently be left +to the discretion of the executive magistrate, a proclamation +that is not adverse to existing laws need not create any +alarm; the only danger they incur is that they seem never +to have been attended to, and rather testified the wishes of +the government than the compliance of the subjects. They +were not laws, and were therefore considered as sermons or +pamphlets, or anything forgotten in a week’s time!</p> + +<p>These proclamations are frequently alluded to by the letter-writers +of the times among the news of the day, but usually +their royal virtue hardly kept them alive beyond the week. +Some on important subjects are indeed noticed in our history. +Many indications of the situation of affairs, the feelings of +the people, and the domestic history of our nation, may be +drawn from these singular records. I have never found them +to exist in any collected form, and they have been probably +only accidentally preserved.<a name="FnAnchor_244" id="FnAnchor_244" href="#Footnote_244"><span class="sp">244</span></a></p> + +<p>The proclamations of every sovereign would characterize +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page373" id="page373"></a>373</span> +his reign, and open to us some of the interior operations of +the cabinet. The despotic will, yet vacillating conduct of +Henry the Eighth, towards the close of his reign, may be +traced in a proclamation to abolish the translations of the +scriptures, and even the reading of Bibles by the people; +commanding all printers of English books and pamphlets to +affix their names to them, and forbidding the sale of any +English books printed abroad.<a name="FnAnchor_245" id="FnAnchor_245" href="#Footnote_245"><span class="sp">245</span></a> When the people were not +suffered to publish their opinions at home, all the opposition +flew to foreign presses, and their writings were then smuggled +into the country in which they ought to have been printed. +Hence, many volumes printed in a foreign type at this period +are found in our collections. The king shrunk in dismay +from that spirit of reformation which had only been a party +business with him, and making himself a pope, decided that +nothing should be learnt but what he himself deigned to teach!</p> + +<p>The antipathies and jealousies which our populace too long +indulged, by their incivilities to all foreigners, are characterised +by a proclamation issued by Mary, commanding her +subjects to behave themselves peaceably towards the strangers +coming with King Philip; that noblemen and gentlemen +should warn their servants to refrain from “strife and contention, +either by outward deeds, taunting words, unseemly +countenance, by mimicking them, &c.” The punishment not +only “her grace’s displeasure, but to be committed to prison +without bail or mainprise.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page374" id="page374"></a>374</span></p> + +<p>The proclamations of Edward the Sixth curiously exhibit +the unsettled state of the reformation, where the rites and +ceremonies of Catholicism were still practised by the new +religionists, while an opposite party, resolutely bent on an +eternal separation from Rome, were avowing doctrines which +afterwards consolidated themselves into puritanism, and while +others were hatching up that demoralising fanaticism which +subsequently shocked the nation with those monstrous sects, +the indelible, disgrace of our country! In one proclamation +the king denounces to the people “those who despise the +sacrament by calling it <i>idol</i>, or such other vile name.” +Another is against such “as innovate any ceremony,” and +who are described as “certain private preachers and other +laiemen, who rashly attempt of <i>their own and singular wit +and mind</i>, not only to persuade the people from the old and +accustomed rites and ceremonies, but also themselves bring +in <i>new and strange orders according to their phantasies</i>. +The which, as it is an evident token of pride and arrogancy, +so it tendeth both to confusion and disorder.” Another +proclamation, to press “a godly conformity throughout his +realm,” where we learn the following curious fact, of “divers +unlearned and indiscreet priests of a devilish mind and intent, +teaching that a man may forsake his wife and marry another, +his first wife yet living; likewise that the wife may do the +same to the husband. Others, that a man may have <i>two +wives or more</i> at once, for that these things are not prohibited +by God’s law, but by the Bishop of Rome’s law; so that +by such evil and fantastical opinions some have not +been afraid indeed to marry and keep <i>two wives</i>.” Here, as +in the bud, we may unfold those subsequent scenes of our +story which spread out in the following century; the branching +out of the non-conformists into their various sects; and +the indecent haste of our reformed priesthood, who, in their +zeal to cast off the yoke of Rome, desperately submitted to +the liberty of having “two wives or more!” There is a +proclamation to abstain from flesh on Fridays and Saturdays; +exhorted on the principle, not only that “men should abstain +on those days, and forbear their pleasures and the meats +wherein they have more delight, to the intent to subdue their +bodies to the soul and spirit, but also for <i>worldly policy</i>. +To use <i>fish</i>, for the benefit of the commonwealth, and profit +of many who be <i>fishers</i> and men using that trade, unto the +which this realm, in every part environed with the seas, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page375" id="page375"></a>375</span> +so plentiful of fresh waters, be increased the nourishment of +the land by saving flesh.” It did not seem to occur to the +king in council that the butchers might have had cause to +petition against this monopoly of two days in the week +granted to the fishmongers; and much less, that it was +better to let the people eat flesh or fish as suited their conveniency. +In respect to the religious rite itself, it was evidently +not considered as an essential point of faith, since the +king enforces it on the principle, “for the profit and commodity +of his realm.” Burnet has made a just observation +on religious fasts<a name="FnAnchor_246" id="FnAnchor_246" href="#Footnote_246"><span class="sp">246</span></a></p> + +<p>A proclamation against excess of apparel, in the reign of +Elizabeth, and renewed many years after, shows the luxury of +dress, which was indeed excessive.<a name="FnAnchor_247" id="FnAnchor_247" href="#Footnote_247"><span class="sp">247</span></a> There is a curious one +against the <i>iconoclasts, or image-breakers and picture-destroyers</i>, +for which the antiquary will hold her in high +reverence. Her majesty informs us, that “several persons, +ignorant, malicious, or covetous, of late years, have spoiled +and broken ancient monuments, erected only <i>to show a +memory to posterity</i>, and not to nourish any kind of <i>superstition</i>.” +The queen laments that what is broken and spoiled +would be now hard to recover, but advises her good people to +repair them; and commands them in future to desist from +committing such injuries. A more extraordinary circumstance +than the proclamation itself was the manifestation of +her majesty’s zeal, in subscribing her name with her own +hand to every proclamation dispersed throughout England. +These image-breakers first appeared in Elizabeth’s reign; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page376" id="page376"></a>376</span> +it was afterwards that they flourished in all the perfection +of their handicraft, and have contrived that these monuments +of art shall carry down to posterity the <i>memory of +their</i> <span class="sc">shame</span> <i>and of their age</i>. These image-breakers, so +famous in our history, had already appeared under Henry +the Eighth, and continued their practical zeal, in spite of +proclamations and remonstrances, till they had accomplished +their work. In 1641 an order was published by the Commons, +that they should “take away all scandalous pictures +out of churches:” but more was intended than was expressed; +and we are told that the people did not at first carry their +barbarous practice against all Art to the lengths which they +afterwards did, till they were instructed by <i>private information!</i> +Dowsing’s Journal has been published, and shows what +the <i>order</i> meant! He was their giant destroyer! Such are +the Machiavelian secrets of revolutionary governments; they +give a <i>public</i> order in moderate <i>words</i>, but the <i>secret</i> one, for +the <i>deeds</i>, is that of extermination! It was this sort of men +who discharged their prisoners by giving a secret sign to lead +them to their execution!</p> + +<p>The proclamations of James the First, by their number, +are said to have sunk their value with the people.<a name="FnAnchor_248" id="FnAnchor_248" href="#Footnote_248"><span class="sp">248</span></a> He was +fond of giving them gentle advice; and it is said by Wilson +that there was an intention to have this king’s printed proclamations +bound up in a volume, that better notice might be +taken of the matters contained in them. There is more than +one to warn the people against “speaking too freely of +matters above their reach,” prohibiting all “undutiful +speeches.” I suspect that many of these proclamations are +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page377" id="page377"></a>377</span> +the composition of the king’s own hand; he was often his +own secretary. There is an admirable one against private +duels and challenges. The curious one respecting Cowell’s +“Interpreter” is a sort of royal review of some of the arcana +of state: I refer to the quotation.<a name="FnAnchor_249" id="FnAnchor_249" href="#Footnote_249"><span class="sp">249</span></a></p> + +<p>I will preserve a passage of a proclamation “against excess +of lavish and licentious speech.” James was a king of +words!</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>“Although the commixture of nations, confluence of ambassadors, and the +relation which the affairs of our kingdoms have had towards the business +and interests of foreign states have caused, during our regiment (government) +a greater openness and liberty of discourse, even concerning <span class="sc">matters +of state</span> (which are <i>no themes or subjects fit for vulgar persons or +common meetings</i>), than hath been in former times used or permitted; and +although in our own nature and judgment we do well allow of <i>convenient +freedom of speech</i>, esteeming any over-curious or restrained hands carried +in that kind rather as a weakness, or else over-much severity of government +than otherwise; yet for as much as it is come to our ears, by common +report, that there is at this time a more licentious passage of <i>lavish discourse +and bold censure in matters of state</i> than is fit to be suffered: We +give this warning, &c., to take heed <i>how they intermeddle by pen or speech +with causes of state and secrets of empire</i>, either at home or abroad, but +contain themselves within that modest and reverent regard of matters +above their reach and calling; nor to give any manner of applause to such +discourse, without acquainting one of our privy council within the space +of twenty-four hours.”</p> +</div> + +<p>It seems that “the bold speakers,” as certain persons were +then denominated, practised an old artifice of lauding his +majesty, while they severely arraigned the counsels of the +cabinet; on this James observes, “Neither let any man mistake +us so much as to think that by giving fair and specious +attributes to our person, they cover the scandals which they +otherwise lay upon our government, but conceive that we +make no other construction of them but as fine and artificial +glosses, the better to give passage to the rest of their imputations +and scandals.”</p> + +<p>This was a proclamation in the eighteenth year of his +reign; he repeated it in the nineteenth, and he might have +proceeded to “the crack of doom” with the same effect!</p> + +<p>Rushworth, in his second volume of Historical Collections, +has preserved a considerable number of the proclamations of +Charles the First, of which many are remarkable; but latterly +they mark the feverish state of his reign. One regulates +access for cure of the king’s evil—by which his majesty, it +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page378" id="page378"></a>378</span> +appears, “hath had good success therein;” but though ready +and willing as any king or queen of this realm ever was to relieve +the distresses of his good subjects, “his majesty commands +to change the seasons for his ‘sacred touch’ from +Easter and Whitsuntide to Easter and Michaelmas, as times +more convenient for the temperature of the season,” &c. +Another against “departure out of the realm without license.” +One to erect an office “for the suppression of cursing and +swearing,” to receive the forfeitures; against “libellous and +seditious pamphlets and discourses from Scotland,” framed by +factious spirits, and republished in London—this was in 1640; +and Charles, at the crisis of that great insurrection in which +he was to be at once the actor and the spectator, fondly +imagined that the possessors of these “scandalous” pamphlets +would bring them, as he proclaimed “to one of his majesty’s +justices of peace, to be by him sent to one of his principal +secretaries of state!”</p> + +<p>On the Restoration, Charles the Second had to court his +people by his domestic regulations. He early issued a remarkable +proclamation, which one would think reflected on +his favourite companions, and which strongly marks the +moral disorders of those depraved and wretched times. It is +against “vicious, debauched, and profane persons!” who are +thus described:—</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>“A sort of men of whom we have heard much, and are sufficiently +ashamed; who spend their time in taverns, tippling-houses and debauches; +giving no <i>other evidence of their affection to us but in drinking +our health</i>, and inveighing against all others who are not of their own +dissolute temper; and who, in truth, have <i>more discredited our cause</i>, by +the license of their manners and lives, than they could ever advance it by +their affection or courage. We hope all persons of honour, or in place and +authority, will so far assist us in discountenancing such men, that their +discretion and shame will persuade them to reform what their conscience +would not; and that the displeasure of good men towards them may +supply what the laws have not, and, it may be, cannot well provide +against; there being by the license and corruption of the times, and the +depraved nature of man, many enormities, scandals, and impieties in practice +and manners, which <i>laws cannot well describe, and consequently not +enough provide against</i>, which may, by the example and severity of virtuous +men, be easily discountenanced, and by degrees suppressed.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Surely the gravity and moral severity of Clarendon dictated +this proclamation! which must have afforded some mirth to +the gay, debauched circle, the loose cronies of royalty!</p> + +<p>It is curious that, in 1660, Charles the Second issued a long +proclamation for the strict observance of Lent, and alleges for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page379" id="page379"></a>379</span> +it the same reason as we found in Edward the Sixth’s proclamation, +“for the good it produces in the employment of +<i>fishermen</i>” No ordinaries, taverns, &c., to make any supper +<i>on Friday nights, either in Lent or out of Lent</i>.</p> + +<p>Charles the Second issued proclamations “to repress the +excess of gilding of coaches and chariots,” to restrain the +waste of gold, which, as they supposed, by the excessive use +of gilding, had grown scarce. Against “the exportation and +the buying and selling of gold and silver at higher rates than +in our mint,” alluding to a statute made in the ninth year of +Edward the Third, called the Statute of Money. Against +building in and about London and Westminster, in 1661: +“The inconveniences daily growing by increase of new buildings +are, that the people increasing in such great numbers, +are not well to be governed by the wonted officers: the prices +of victuals are enhanced; the health of the subject inhabiting +the cities much endangered, and many good towns and +boroughs unpeopled, and in their trades much decayed—frequent +fires occasioned by timber-buildings.” It orders to +build with brick and stone, “which would beautify, and make +an uniformity in the buildings; and which are not only more +durable and safe against fire, but by experience are found to +be of <i>little more if not less charge than the building with +timber</i>.” We must infer that, by the general use of timber, +it had considerably risen in price, while brick and stone not +then being generally used, became as cheap as wood!<a name="FnAnchor_250" id="FnAnchor_250" href="#Footnote_250"><span class="sp">250</span></a></p> + +<p>The most remarkable proclamations of Charles the Second +are those which concern the regulations of coffee-houses, and +one for putting them down;<a name="FnAnchor_251" id="FnAnchor_251" href="#Footnote_251"><span class="sp">251</span></a> to restrain the spreading of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page380" id="page380"></a>380</span> +false news, and licentious talking of state and government, the +speakers and the hearers were made alike punishable. This +was highly resented as an illegal act by the friends of civil +freedom; who, however, succeeded in obtaining the freedom of +the coffee-houses, under the promise of not sanctioning treasonable +speeches. It was urged by the court lawyers, as the +high Tory, Roger North, tells us, that the retailing coffee +might be an innocent trade, when not used in the nature of a +common assembly to discourse of matters of state news and +great persons, as a means “to discontent the people.” On +the other side, Kennet asserted that the discontents existed +before they met at the coffee-houses, and that the proclamation +was only intended to suppress an evil which was not to +be prevented. At this day we know which of those two +historians exercised the truest judgment. It was not the +coffee-houses which produced political feeling, but the reverse. +Whenever government ascribes effects to a cause quite inadequate +to produce them, they are only seeking means to hide +the evil which they are too weak to suppress.</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_243" id="Footnote_243" href="#FnAnchor_243"><span class="fn">243</span></a> The whole story is in 12 Co. 746. I owe this curious fact to the +author of Eunomus, ii. 116.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_244" id="Footnote_244" href="#FnAnchor_244"><span class="fn">244</span></a> A quarto volume was published by Barker, the king’s printer, and +is entitled “A Booke of Proclamations Published since the beginning +of his Majestie’s most happy Reign over England, until this present month +of Feb. 1609.” It contains 110 in all. The Society of Antiquaries of +London possesses at the present time the largest and most perfect collection +of royal proclamations in existence, brought together since the above +was written. They are on separate broadsheets, as issued.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_245" id="Footnote_245" href="#FnAnchor_245"><span class="fn">245</span></a> In 1529 the king had issued a proclamation for resisting and withstanding +of most dampnable heresyes sowen within the realme by the discyples +of Luther and other <span class="correction" title="added missing quotes">“heretykes</span>, perverters of Christes relygyon.” +In June, 1530, this was followed by the proclamation “for dampning (or +condemning) of erronious bokes and heresies, and prohibitinge the havinge +of holy scripture translated into the vulgar tonges of englishe, frenche, or +dutche,” he notes many bookes “printed beyonde the see” which he will +not allow, “that is to say, the boke called the wicked Mammona, the boke +named the Obedience of a Christen Man, the Supplication of Beggars, and +the boke called the Revelation of Antichrist, the Summary of Scripture, +and divers other bokes made in the Englishe tongue,” in fact all books in +the vernacular not issued by native printers. “And that having respect +to the malignity of this present tyme, with the inclination of people to +erronious opinions, the translation of the newe testament and the old into +the vulgar tonge of englysshe, shulde rather be the occasion of contynuance +or increase of errours amonge the said people, than any benefit or commodite +toward the weale of their soules,” and he determines therefore +that the scriptures shall only be expounded to the people as heretofore, and +that these books “be clerely extermynate and exiled out of this realme of +Englande for ever.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_246" id="Footnote_246" href="#FnAnchor_246"><span class="fn">246</span></a> History of the Reformation, vol. ii. p. 96, folio.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_247" id="Footnote_247" href="#FnAnchor_247"><span class="fn">247</span></a> In June, 1574, the queen issued from her “Manour of Greenwich” +this proclamation against “excesse of apparel, and the superfluitie of unnecessarye +foreign wares thereto belonginge,” which is declared to have +“growen by sufferance to such an extremetie, that the manifest decay, not +only of a great part of the wealth of the whole realme generally, is like to +follow by bringing into the realme such superfluities of silkes, clothes of +gold, sylver, and other most vaine devices, of so greate coste for the quantitie +thereof; as of necessitie the moneyes and treasure of the realme is, +and must be, yeerely conveyed out of the same.” This is followed by three folio +leaves minutely describing what may be worn on the dresses of every grade +of persons; descending to such minutiæ as to note what classes are not to +be allowed to put lace, or fringes, or borders of velvet upon their gowns +and petticoats, under pain of fine or punishment, because improper for +their station, and above their means. The order appears to have been +evaded, for it was followed by another in February, 1580, which recapitulates +these prohibitions, and renders them more stringent.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_248" id="Footnote_248" href="#FnAnchor_248"><span class="fn">248</span></a> The list of a very few of those issued at the early part of his reign +may illustrate this. In 1604 was published a “Proclamation for the true +winding or folding of wools,” as well as one “For the due regulation of +prices of victuals within the verge of Kent.” In 1605, “Against certain +calumnious surmises concerning the church government of Scotland.” In +1608, “A proclamation against making starch.” In 1612, “That none buy +or sell any bullion of gold and silver at higher prices than is appointed to +be paid for the same.” Another against dying silk with <i>slip</i> or any corrupt +stuff. In 1613, for “Prohibiting the untimely bringing in of wines,” as +well as for “Prohibiting the publishing of any reports or writings of +duels,” and also “The importation of felt hats or caps.” In 1615, +“Prohibiting the making of glass with timber or wood,” because “of late +yeeres the waste of wood and timber hath been exceeding great and intolerable, +by the glassehouses and glasseworkes of late in divers parts +erected,” and which his majesty fears may have the effect of depriving +England of timber to construct her navy!</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_249" id="Footnote_249" href="#FnAnchor_249"><span class="fn">249</span></a> I have noticed it in Calamities of Authors.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_250" id="Footnote_250" href="#FnAnchor_250"><span class="fn">250</span></a> Lilly, the astrologer, in his memoirs, notes that Thomas Howard, Earl +of Arundel (the famous collector of the Arundelian marbles now at Oxford), +“brought over the new way of building with brick in the city, +greatly to the safety of the city, and preservation of the wood of this nation.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_251" id="Footnote_251" href="#FnAnchor_251"><span class="fn">251</span></a> This proclamation “for the suppression of coffee-houses” bears date +December 20, 1675, and is stated to have been issued because “the multitude +of coffee-houses, lately set up and kept within this kingdom, and +the great resort of idle and dissipated persons to them, have produced very +evil and dangerous effects,” particularly in spreading of rumours, and inducing +tradesmen to neglect their calling, tending to the danger of the +commonweal, by the idle waste of time and money. It therefore orders +all coffee-house keepers “that they, or any of them, do not presume from +and after the tenth day of January next ensuing, to keep any publick +coffee-house, or utter, or sell by retail, in his, her, or their house, or +houses (to be spent or consumed within the same), any coffee, chocolate, +sherbett, or tea; as they will answer it at their utmost peril.”</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>TRUE SOURCES OF SECRET HISTORY.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">This</span> is a subject which has been hitherto but imperfectly +comprehended even by some historians themselves; and +has too often incurred the satire, and even the contempt, of +those volatile spirits who play about the superficies of truth, +wanting the industry to view it on more than one side, and +those superficial readers who imagine that every tale is told +when it is written.</p> + +<p>Secret history is the supplement of history itself, and is its +great corrector; and the combination of secret with public +history has in itself a perfection, which each taken separately +has not. The popular historian composes a plausible +rather than an accurate tale; researches too fully detailed +would injure the just proportions, or crowd the bold design, of +the elegant narrative; and facts, presented as they occurred, +would not adapt themselves to those theoretical writers of +history who arrange events not in a natural, but in a systematic +order. But in secret history we are more busied in +observing what passes than in being told of it. We are +transformed into the contemporaries of the writers, while we +are standing on the “vantage ground” of their posterity; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page381" id="page381"></a>381</span> +and thus what to them appeared ambiguous, to us has +become unquestionable; what was secret to them has been +confided to us. They mark the beginnings, and we the ends. +From the fulness of their accounts we recover much which +had been lost to us in the general views of history, and it is +by this more intimate acquaintance with persons and circumstances +that we are enabled to correct the less distinct, and +sometimes the fallacious appearances in the page of the popular +historian. He who <i>only</i> views things in masses will have +no distinct notion of any one particular; he may be a fanciful +or a passionate historian, but he is not the historian who will +enlighten while he charms.</p> + +<p>But as secret history appears to deal in minute things, its +connexion with great results is not usually suspected. The +circumstantiality of its story, the changeable shadows of its +characters, the redundance of its conversations, and the many +careless superfluities which egotism or vanity may throw out, +seem usually confounded with that small-talk familiarly +termed <i>gossiping</i>. But the <i>gossiping</i> of a profound politician +or a vivacious observer, in one of their letters, or in their +memoirs, often, by a spontaneous stroke, reveals the individual, +or by a simple incident unriddles a mysterious event. +We may discover the value of these pictures of human nature, +with which secret history abounds, by an observation which +occurred between two statesmen in office. Lord Raby, our +ambassador, apologised to Lord Bolingbroke, then secretary +of state, for troubling him with the minuter circumstances +which occurred in his conferences; in reply, the minister +requests the ambassador to continue the same manner of +writing, and alleges an excellent reason: “Those <i>minute circumstances</i> +give very great light to the general scope and +design of the <i>persons</i> negotiated with. And I own that +nothing pleases me more in that valuable collection of the +Cardinal D’Ossat’s letters, than the <i>naïve</i> descriptions which +he gives of the looks, gestures, and even tones of voice, of the +persons he conferred with.” I regret to have to record the +opinions of another noble author, who recently has thrown +out some degrading notions of secret history, and particularly +of the historians. I would have silently passed by a vulgar +writer, superficial, prejudiced, and uninformed, but as so +many are yet deficient in correct notions of <i>secret history</i>, it +is but justice that their representative should be heard before +they are condemned.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page382" id="page382"></a>382</span></p> + +<p>His lordship says, that “Of late the appetite for <i>Remains</i> +of all kinds has surprisingly increased. A story repeated by +the Duchess of Portsmouth’s waiting-woman to Lord +Rochester’s valet forms the subject of investigation for a +philosophical historian; and you may hear of an assembly of +scholars and authors discussing the validity of a piece of +scandal invented by a maid of honour more than two centuries +ago, and repeated to an obscure writer by Queen Elizabeth’s +housekeeper. It is a matter of the greatest interest to +see the <i>letters</i> of every busy trifler. Yet who does not laugh +at such men?” This is the attack! but as if some half +truths, like light through the cranny in a dark room, had +just darted in a stream of atoms over this scoffer at secret +history, he suddenly views his object with a very different +appearance—for his lordship justly concludes that “It must +be confessed, however, that knowledge of this kind is very +entertaining; and here and there among the rubbish we find +hints that may give the philosopher a clue to important facts, +and afford to the moralist a better analysis of the human +mind than a whole library of metaphysics!” The philosopher +may well abhor all intercourse with wits! because the faculty +of judgment is usually quiescent with them; and in their +orgasm they furiously decry what in their sober senses they +as eagerly laud! Let me inform his lordship, that “the +waiting-woman and the valet” of eminent persons are sometimes +no unimportant personages in history. By the +<i>Mémoires de Mons. de la Porte, premier valet-de-chambre de +Louis XIV.</i>, we learn what before “the valet” wrote had +not been known—the shameful arts which Mazarin allowed +to be practised, to give a bad education to the prince, and to +manage him by depraving his tastes. <i>Madame de Motteville</i>, +in her Memoirs, “the waiting lady” of our Henrietta, has +preserved for our own English history some facts which have +been found so essential to the narrative, that they are referred +to by our historians. In <i>Gui Joly</i>, the humble dependant of +Cardinal de Retz, we discover an unconscious but a useful +commentator on the memoirs of his master; and the most +affecting personal anecdotes of Charles the First have been +preserved by <i>Thomas Herbert</i>, his gentleman in waiting; +<i>Cléry</i>, the valet of Louis the Sixteenth, with pathetic faithfulness, +has shown us the man in the monarch whom he served!</p> + +<p>Of <span class="sc">secret history</span> there are obviously two species; it is +positive, or it is relative. It is <i>positive</i>, when the facts are +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page383" id="page383"></a>383</span> +first given to the world; a sort of knowledge which can only be +drawn from our own personal experience, or from contemporary +documents preserved in their manuscript state in public +or in private collections; or it is <i>relative</i>, in proportion to the +knowledge of those to whom it is communicated, and will be +more or less valued according to the acquisitions of the +reader; and this inferior species of secret history is drawn +from rare and obscure books and other published authorities, +often as scarce as manuscripts.</p> + +<p>Some experience I have had in those literary researches, +where cusiosity, ever wakeful and vigilant, discovers among +contemporary manuscripts new facts; illustrations of old +ones; and sometimes detects, not merely by conjecture, the +concealed causes of many events; often opens a scene in +which some well-known personage is exhibited in a new +character; and thus penetrates beyond those generalising +representations which satisfy the superficial, and often cover +the page of history with delusion and fiction.</p> + +<p>It is only since the latter institution of national libraries +that these immense collections of manuscripts have been formed; +with us they are an undescribable variety, usually classed +under the vague title of “state-papers.”<a name="FnAnchor_252" id="FnAnchor_252" href="#Footnote_252"><span class="sp">252</span></a> The instructions +of ambassadors, but more particularly their own dispatches; +charters and chronicles brown with antiquity, which preserve +a world which had been else lost for us, like the one before the +deluge; series upon series of private correspondence, among +which we discover the most confidential communications, +designed by the writers to have been destroyed by the hand +which received them; memoirs of individuals by themselves +or by their friends, such as are now published by the pomp of +vanity, or the faithlessness of their possessors; and the miscellaneous +collections formed by all kinds of persons, characteristic +of all countries and of all eras, materials for the history +of man!—records of the force or of the feebleness of the human +understanding, and still the monuments of their passions.</p> + +<p>The original collectors of these dispersed manuscripts were +a race of ingenious men, silent benefactors of mankind, to +whom justice has not yet been fully awarded; but in their +fervour of accumulation, everything in a manuscript state +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page384" id="page384"></a>384</span> +bore its spell; acquisition was the sole point aimed at by our +early collectors, and to this these searching spirits sacrificed +their fortunes, their ease, and their days; but life would have +been too short to have decided on the intrinsic value of the +manuscripts flowing in a stream to the collectors; and suppression, +even of the disjointed reveries of madmen, or the +sensible madness of projectors, might have been indulging a +capricious taste, or what has proved more injurious to historical +pursuits, that party-feeling which has frequently annihilated +the memorials of their adversaries.<a name="FnAnchor_253" id="FnAnchor_253" href="#Footnote_253"><span class="sp">253</span></a></p> + +<p>These manuscript collections now assume a formidable +appearance. A toilsome march over these “Alps rising over +Alps!” a voyage in “a sea without a shore!” has turned away +most historians from their severer duties; those who have +grasped at early celebrity have been satisfied to have given a +new form to, rather than contributed to the new matter of +history. The very sight of these masses of history has terrified +some modern historians. When Père Daniel undertook +a history of France, the learned Boivin, the king’s librarian, +opened for his inspection an immense treasure of charters, +and another of royal autograph letters, and another of private +correspondence; treasures reposing in fourteen hundred +folios! The modern historian passed two hours impatiently +looking over them, but frightened at another plunge into the +gulf, this Curtius of history would not immolate himself for +his country! He wrote a civil letter to the librarian for his +“supernumerary kindness,” but insinuated that he could +write a very readable history without any further aid of such +<i>paperasses</i> or “paper-rubbish.” Père Daniel, therefore, +“quietly sat down to his history,” copying others—a compliment +which was never returned by any one: but there was +this striking novelty in his “readable history,” that according +to the accurate computation of Count Boulainvilliers, Père +Daniel’s history of France contains ten thousand blunders! +The same circumstance has been told me by a living historian +of the late Gilbert Stuart; who, on some manuscript +volumes of letters being pointed out to him when composing +his history of Scotland, confessed that “what was already +printed was more than he was able to read!” and thus much +for his theoretical history, written to run counter to another +theoretical history, being Stuart versus Robertson! They +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page385" id="page385"></a>385</span> +equally depend on the simplicity of their readers, and the +charms of style! Another historian, Anquetil, the author of +<i>L’Esprit de la Ligue</i>, has described his embarrassment at an +inspection of the contemporary manuscripts of that period. +After thirteen years of researches to glean whatever secret +history printed books afforded, the author, residing in the +country, resolved to visit the royal library at Paris. Monsieur +Melot receiving him with that kindness which is one +of the official duties of the public librarian towards the studious, +opened the cabinets in which were deposited the +treasures of French history.—“This is what you require! +come here at all times, and you shall be attended!” said the +librarian to the young historian, who stood by with a sort of +shudder, while he opened cabinet after cabinet. The intrepid +investigator repeated his visits, looking over the mass as +chance directed, attacking one side, and then flying to another. +The historian, who had felt no weariness during +thirteen years among printed books, discovered that he was +now engaged in a task apparently always beginning, and +never ending! The “Esprit de la Ligue” was however enriched +by labours which at the moment appeared so barren.</p> + +<p>The study of these <i>paperasses</i> is not perhaps so disgusting +as the impatient Père Daniel imagined; there is a literary +fascination in looking over the same papers which the great +characters of history once held and wrote on; catching from +themselves their secret sentiments; and often detecting so +many of their unrecorded actions! By habit the toil becomes +light; and with a keen inquisitive spirit even delightful! +For what is more delightful to the curious than to +make fresh discoveries every day? Addison has a true and +pleasing observation on such pursuits. “Our employments +are converted into amusements, so that even in those objects +which were indifferent, or even displeasing to us, the mind +not only gradually loses its aversion, but conceives a certain +fondness and affection for them.” Addison illustrates this +case by one of the greatest geniuses of the age, who by habit +took incredible pleasure in searching into rolls and records, +till he preferred them to Virgil and Cicero! The faculty of +curiosity is as fervid, and even as refined in its search after +truth, as that of taste in the objects of imagination; and the +more it is indulged, the more exquisitely it is enjoyed!</p> + +<p>The popular historians of England and of France have, in +truth, made little use of manuscript researches. Life is very +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page386" id="page386"></a>386</span> +short for long histories; and those who rage with an avidity +of fame or profit will gladly taste the fruit which they cannot +mature. Researches too remotely sought after, or too slowly +acquired, or too fully detailed, would be so many obstructions +in the smooth texture of a narrative. Our theoretical historians +write from some particular and preconceived result; +unlike Livy, and De Thou, and Machiavel, who describe +events in their natural order, these cluster them together by +the fanciful threads of some political or moral theory, by +which facts are distorted, displaced, and sometimes altogether +omitted! One single original document has sometimes +shaken into dust their Palladian edifice of history. At the +moment Hume was sending some sheets of his history to +press, Murdin’s State Papers appeared. And we are highly +amused and instructed by a letter of our historian to his +rival, Robertson, who probably found himself often in the +same forlorn situation. Our historian discovered in that collection +what compelled him to retract his preconceived system—he +hurries to stop the press, and paints his confusion and +his anxiety with all the ingenuous simplicity of his nature. +“We are all in the wrong!” he exclaims. Of Hume I have +heard that certain manuscripts at the State Paper Office had +been prepared for his inspection during a fortnight, but he +never could muster courage to pay his promised visit. Satisfied +with the common accounts, and the most obvious sources +of history, when librarian at the Advocates’ Library, where +yet may be examined the books he used, marked by his hand, +he spread the volumes about the sofa, from which he rarely +rose to pursue obscure inquiries, or delay by fresh difficulties +the page which every day was growing under his +charming pen. A striking proof of his careless happiness I +discovered in his never referring to the perfect edition of +“Whitelocke’s Memorials” of 1732, but to the old truncated +and faithless one of 1682.</p> + +<p>Dr. Birch was a writer with no genius for composition, but +one to whom British history stands more indebted than to +any superior author; his incredible love of labour, in transcribing +with his own hand a large library of manuscripts +from originals dispersed in public and in private repositories, +has enriched the British Museum by thousands of the most +authentic documents of genuine secret history. He once projected +a collection of original historical letters, for which he +had prepared a preface, where I find the following passage:—“It +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page387" id="page387"></a>387</span> +is a more important service to the public to contribute +<i>something not before known</i> to the general fund of history, +than to give new form and colour to what we are already +possessed of, by superadding refinement and ornament, which +too often tend <i>to disguise the real state of the facts</i>; a fault +not to be atoned for by the pomp of <i>style</i>, or even the fine +<i>eloquence</i> of the historian.” This was an oblique stroke +aimed at Robertson, to whom Birch had generously opened +the stores of history, for the Scotch historian had needed all +his charity; but Robertson’s attractive inventions and highly-finished +composition seduce the public taste; and we may +forgive the latent spark of envy in the honest feelings of the +man, who was profoundly skilled in delving in the native +beds of ore, but not in fashioning it; and whose own +neglected historical works, constructed on the true principles +of secret history, we may often turn over to correct the +erroneous, the prejudiced, and the artful accounts of +those who have covered their faults by “the pomp of style, +and the eloquence of the historian.”</p> + +<p>The large manuscript collections of original documents, +from whence may be drawn what I have called <i>positive secret +history</i>, are, as I observed, comparatively of modern existence. +Formerly they were widely dispersed in private hands; and +the nature of such sources of historic discovery but rarely +occurred to our writers. Even had they sought them, their +access must have been partial and accidental. Lord Hardwicke +has observed, that there are still many untouched manuscript +collections within these kingdoms, which, through +the ignorance or inattention of their owners, are condemned +to dust and obscurity; but how valuable and essential they +may be to the interests of authentic history and of sacred +truth, cannot be more strikingly demonstrated than in the +recent publications of the Marlborough and the Shrewsbury +Papers by Archdeacon Coxe.<a name="FnAnchor_254" id="FnAnchor_254" href="#Footnote_254"><span class="sp">254</span></a> The editor was fully authorised +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page388" id="page388"></a>388</span> +to observe, “It is singular that those transactions +should either have been passed over in silence, or imperfectly +represented by most of our national historians.” Our modern +history would have been a mere political romance, without +the astonishing picture of William and his ministers, exhibited +in those unquestionable documents. Burnet was +among the first of our modern historians who showed the +world the preciousness of such materials, in his “History of +the Reformation,” which he largely drew from the Cottonian +collection. Our early historians only repeated a tale ten +times told. Milton, who wanted not for literary diligence, +had no fresh stores to open for his “History of England;” +while Hume despatches, comparatively in a few pages, a subject +which has afforded to the fervent diligence of my learned +friend Sharon Turner volumes precious to the antiquary, the +lawyer, and the philosopher.</p> + +<p>To illustrate my idea of the usefulness and of the absolute +necessity of <span class="sc">secret history</span>, I fix first on <i>a public event</i>, +and secondly on <i>a public character</i>; both remarkable in our +own modern history, and both serving to expose the fallacious +appearances of popular history by authorities indisputably +genuine. The <i>event</i> is the Restoration of Charles +the Second; and the <i>character</i> is that of Mary, the queen of +William the Third.</p> + +<p>In history the Restoration of Charles appears in all its +splendour—the king is joyfully received at Dover, and the +shore is covered by his subjects on their knees—crowds of +the great hurry to Canterbury—the army is drawn up, in +number and with a splendour that had never been equalled—his +enthusiastic reception is on his birthday, for that was +the lucky day fixed on for his entrance into the metropolis—in +a word, all that is told in history describes a monarch the +most powerful and the most happy. One of the tracts of the +day, entitled “England’s Triumph,” in the mean quaintness +of the style of the times, tells us that “The soldiery, who had +hitherto made <i>clubs</i> trump, resolve now to enthrone the <i>king +of hearts</i>.” Turn to the faithful memorialist, who so well +knew the secrets of the king’s heart, and who was himself an +actor behind the curtain; turn to Clarendon, in his own Life, +and we shall find that the power of the king was then as +dubious as when he was an exile; and his feelings were so +much racked, that he had nearly resolved on a last flight.</p> + +<p>Clarendon, in noticing the temper and spirit of that time, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page389" id="page389"></a>389</span> +observes, “Whoever reflects upon all this composition of contradictory +wishes and expectations, must confess that the +king was not yet the master of the kingdom, nor his <i>authority</i> +and <i>security</i> such as <i>the general noise and acclamation, +the bells and the bonfires, proclaimed it to be</i>.”—“The first +mortification the king met with as soon as he arrived at Canterbury, +within three hours after he landed at Dover.” Clarendon +then relates how many the king found there, who, +while they waited with joy to kiss his hand, also came with +importunate solicitations for themselves; forced him to give +them present audience, in which they reckoned up the insupportable +losses undergone by themselves or their fathers; +demanding some grant, or promise of such or such offices; +some even for more! “pressing for two or three with such +confidence and importunity, and with such tedious discourses, +that the king was extremely nauseated with their suits, +though his modesty knew not how to break from them; that +he no sooner got into his chamber, which for some hours he +was not able to do, than <i>he lamented the condition to which +he found he must be subject</i>; and did, in truth, from that +minute, contract such a prejudice against some of those persons.” +But a greater mortification was to follow, and one +which had nearly thrown the king into despair.</p> + +<p>General Monk had from the beginning to this instant acted +very mysteriously, never corresponding with nor answering a +letter of the king’s, so that his majesty was frequently doubtful +whether the general designed to act for himself or for the +king: an ambiguous conduct which I attribute to the power +his wife had over him, who was in the opposite interest. The +general, in his rough way, presented him a large paper, with +about seventy names for his privy council, of which not more +than two were acceptable. “The king,” says Clarendon, +“was <i>in more than ordinary confusion</i>, for he knew not well +what to think of the general, in whose absolute power he +was—so that at this moment his majesty was almost alarmed +at the demand and appearance of things.” The general +afterwards undid this unfavourable appearance, by acknowledging +that the list was drawn up by his wife, who had made +him promise to present it; but he permitted his majesty to +act as he thought proper. At that moment General Monk +was more king than Charles.</p> + +<p>We have not yet concluded. When Charles met the army +at Blackheath, 50,000 strong, “he knew well the ill constitution +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page390" id="page390"></a>390</span> +of the army, the distemper and murmuring that was +in it, and how many diseases and convulsions their infant +loyalty was subject to; that <i>how united soever their inclinations +and acclamations seemed to be at Blackheath</i>, their +<i>affections</i> were not the <i>same</i>—and <i>the very countenances</i> there +of many <i>officers</i>, as well as <i>soldiers</i>, did sufficiently manifest +that they were drawn thither to a service they were not +delighted in. The <i>old soldiers</i> had little regard for their <i>new +officers</i>; and it quickly appeared, by the select and affected +mixtures of sullen and melancholic parties of officers and +soldiers.”—And then the chancellor of human nature adds, +“And in this <i>melancholic and perplexed condition</i> the king +and all his hopes stood, <i>when he appeared most gay and exalted, +and wore a pleasantness in his face</i> that became him, +and looked like as full an assurance of his security as was +possible to put on.” It is imagined that Louis the Eighteenth +would be the ablest commentator on this piece of secret history, +and add another <i>twin</i> to Pierre de Saint Julien’s “Gemelles +ou Pareiles,” an old French treatise of histories which +resemble one another: a volume so scarce, that I have never +met with it.</p> + +<p>Burnet informs us, that when Queen Mary held the administration +of government during the absence of William, it +was imagined by some, that as “every woman of sense loved +to be meddling, they concluded that she had but a small portion +of it, because she lived so abstracted from all affairs.” +He praises her exemplary behaviour; “regular in her devotions, +much in her closet, read a great deal, was often busy at +work, and seemed to employ her time and thoughts in anything +rather than matters of state. Her conversation was +lively and obliging; everything in her was easy and natural. +The king told the Earl of Shrewsbury, that though he could +not hit on the right way of pleasing England, he was confident +she would, and that we should all be very happy under +her.” Such is the miniature of the queen which Burnet +offers; we see nothing but her tranquillity, her simplicity, +and her carelessness, amidst the important transactions passing +under her eye; but I lift the curtain from a larger picture. +The distracted state amidst which the queen lived, the vexations, +the secret sorrows, the agonies and the despair of Mary +in the absence of William, nowhere appear in history! and as +we see, escaped the ken of the Scotch bishop! They were +reserved for the curiosity and instruction of posterity; and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page391" id="page391"></a>391</span> +were found by Dalrymple, in the letters of Mary to her husband, +in King William’s cabinet. It will be well to place +under the eye of the reader the suppressed cries of this +afflicted queen at the time when “everything in her was +so easy and natural, employing her time and thoughts in +anything rather than matters of state—often busy at work!”</p> + +<p>I shall not dwell on the pangs of the queen for the fate of +William—or her deadly suspicions that many were unfaithful +about her; a battle lost might have been fatal; a conspiracy +might have undone what even a victory had obtained; the +continual terrors she endured were such, that we might be at +a loss to determine who suffered most, those who had been +expelled from, or those who had ascended the throne.</p> + +<p>So far was the queen from not “employing her thoughts” +on “matters of state,” that every letter, usually written +towards evening, chronicles the conflicts of the day; she +records not only events, but even dialogues and personal characteristics; +hints her suspicions, and multiplies her fears; +her attention was incessant—“I never write but what I +think others do not;” and her terrors were as ceaseless,—“I +pray God send you back quickly, for I see all breaking out +into flames.” The queen’s difficulties were not eased by a +single confidential intercourse. On one occasion she observes, +“As I do not know what I ought to speak, and when not, I +am as silent as can be.” “I ever fear not doing well, and +trust to what nobody says but you. It seems to me that +every one is afraid of themselves.—I am very uneasy in one +thing, which is want of somebody to speak my mind freely to, +for it’s a great constraint to think and be silent; and there is +so much matter, that I am one of Solomon’s fools, who am +ready to burst. I must tell you again how Lord Monmouth +endeavours to frighten me, and indeed things have but a +melancholy prospect.” She had indeed reasons to fear Lord +Monmouth, who, it appears, divulged all the secrets of the +royal councils to Major Wildman, who was one of our old +republicans; and, to spread alarm in the privy council, conveyed +in lemon-juice all their secrets to France, often on the +very day they had passed in council! They discovered the +fact, and every one suspected the other as the traitor! Lord +Lincoln even once assured her, that “the Lord President and +all in general, who are in trust, were rogues.” Her council +was composed of factions, and the queen’s suspicions were +rather general than particular: for she observes on them, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page392" id="page392"></a>392</span> +“Till now I thought you had given me wrong characters of +men; but now I see they answer my expectation of being as +little of a mind as of a body.”—For a final extract, take this +full picture of royal misery—“I must see company on my set +days; I must play twice a week; nay, I must laugh and talk, +though never so much against my will: I believe I dissemble +very ill to those who know me; at least, it is a great constraint +to myself, yet I must endure it. All my motions are so +watched, and all I do so observed, that if I eat less, or speak +less, or look more grave, all is lost in the opinion of the +world; so that I have this misery added to that of your +absence, that I must grin when my heart is ready to break, +and talk when my heart is so oppressed that I can scarce +breathe. I go to Kensington as often as I can for air; but +then I never can be quite alone, neither can I complain—that +would be some ease; but I have nobody whose humour +and circumstances agree with mine enough to speak my mind +freely to. Besides, I must hear of business, which being a +thing I am so new in, and so unfit for, does but break my +brains the more, and not ease my heart.”</p> + +<p>Thus different from the representation of Burnet was the +actual state of Queen Mary: and I suspect that our warm +and vehement bishop had but little personal knowledge of her +majesty, notwithstanding the elaborate character of the queen +which he has given in her funeral eulogium. He must have +known that she did not always sympathise with his party-feelings: +for the queen writes, “The Bishop of Salisbury has +made a long thundering sermon this morning, which he has +been with me to desire to print; which I could not refuse, +though I should not have ordered it, for reasons which I +told him.” Burnet (whom I am very far from calling what +an inveterate Tory, Edward Earl of Oxford, does in one of +his manuscript notes, “that lying Scot”) unquestionably +has told many truths in his garrulous page; but the cause in +which he stood so deeply engaged, coupled to his warm sanguine +temper, may have sometimes dimmed his sagacity, so +as to have caused him to have mistaken, as in the present case, +a mask for a face, particularly at a time when almost every +individual appears to have worn one!</p> + +<p>Both these cases of Charles the Second and Queen Mary +show the absolute necessity of researches into secret history, +to correct the appearances and the fallacies which so often +deceive us in public history.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page393" id="page393"></a>393</span></p> + +<p>“The appetite for Remains,” as the noble author whom I +have already alluded to calls it, may then be a very wholesome +one, if it provide the only materials by which our +popular histories can be corrected, and since it often infuses a +freshness into a story which, after having been copied from +book to book, inspires another to tell it for the tenth time! +Thus are the <i>sources of</i> secret history unsuspected by the +idler and the superficial, among those masses of untouched +manuscripts—that subterraneous history!—which indeed may +terrify the indolent, bewilder the inexperienced, and confound +the injudicious, if they have not acquired the knowledge +which not only decides on facts and opinions, but on the +authorities which have furnished them. Popular historians +have written to their readers; each with different views, but +all alike form the open documents of history; like feed advocates, +they declaim, or like special pleaders, they keep only on +one side of their case: they are seldom zealous to push on +their cross-examination; for they come to gain their cause, +and not to hazard it!</p> + +<p>Time will make the present age as obsolete as the last, for +our sons will cast a new light over the ambiguous scenes +which distract their fathers; they will know how some things +happened for which we cannot account; they will bear witness +to how many characters we have mistaken; they will be +told many of those secrets which our contemporaries hide from +us; they will pause at the ends of our beginnings; they will +read the perfect story of man, which can never be told while +it is proceeding. All this is the possession of posterity, +because they will judge without our passions; and all this we +ourselves have been enabled to possess by the secret history +<i>of the last two ages</i>!<a name="FnAnchor_255" id="FnAnchor_255" href="#Footnote_255"><span class="sp">255</span></a></p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_252" id="Footnote_252" href="#FnAnchor_252"><span class="fn">252</span></a> The large mass of important documents in the National State-paper +Office has recently been made available to the use of the historic student, +with the best results, and cannot fail to have important influence on the +future historic literature of the country.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_253" id="Footnote_253" href="#FnAnchor_253"><span class="fn">253</span></a> See what I have said of “Suppressors and Dilapidators of Manuscripts,” +vol. ii. p. 443.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_254" id="Footnote_254" href="#FnAnchor_254"><span class="fn">254</span></a> The “Conway Papers” remain unpublished. From what I have already +been favoured with the sight of, I may venture to predict that our +history may receive from them some important accession. The reader may +find a lively summary of the contents of these Papers in Horace Walpole’s +account of his visit to Ragley, in his letter to George Montague, 20th +August, 1758. The Right Hon. John Wilson Croker, with whom the +Marquis of Hertford had placed the disposal of the Conway Papers, is also +in possession of the Throckmorton Papers, of which the reader may likewise +observe a particular notice in Sir Henry Wotton’s will, in Izaak +Walton’s Lives. Unsunned treasures lie in the State-paper office.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_255" id="Footnote_255" href="#FnAnchor_255"><span class="fn">255</span></a> Since this article has been sent to press I rise from reading one in the +<i>Edinburgh Review</i> on Lord Orford’s and Lord Waldegrave’s Memoirs. +This is one of the very rare articles which could only come from the hand +of a master long exercised in the studies he criticises. The critic, or +rather the historian, observes, that “of a period remarkable for the establishment +of our present system of government, no authentic materials had +yet appeared. Events of public notoriety are to be found, though often +inaccurately told, in our common histories; but the secret springs of action, +the private views and motives of individuals, &c., are as little known +to us as if the events to which they relate had taken place in China or +Japan.” The clear, connected, dispassionate, and circumstantial narrative, +with which he has enriched the stores of English history, is drawn +from <i>the sources of</i> <span class="sc">secret history</span>; from <i>published memoirs</i> and <i>contemporary +correspondence</i>.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page394" id="page394"></a>394</span></p> +<h3>LITERARY RESIDENCES.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Men</span> of genius have usually been condemned to compose +their finest works, which are usually their earliest ones, +under the roof of a garret; and few literary characters have +lived, like Pliny and Voltaire, in a villa or <i>château</i> of their +own. It has not therefore often happened that a man of +genius could raise local emotions by his own intellectual suggestions. +Ariosto, who built a palace in his verse, lodged +himself in a small house, and found that stanzas and stones +were not put together at the same rate: old Montaigne has +left a description of his library; “over the entrance of my +house, where I view my court-yards, and garden, and at once +survey all the operations of my family!”</p> + +<p>There is, however, a feeling among literary men of building +up their own elegant fancies, and giving a permanency to +their own tastes; we dwell on their favourite scenes as a sort +of portraits, and we eagerly collect those few prints, which +are their only vestiges. A collection might be formed of +such literary residences chosen for their amenity and their +retirement, and adorned by the objects of their studies; from +that of the younger Pliny, who called his villa of literary +leisure by the endearing term of <i>villula</i>, to that of Cassiodorus, +the prime minister of Theodoric, who has left so +magnificent a description of his literary retreat, where all +the elegancies of life were at hand; where the gardeners and +the agriculturists laboured on scientific principles; and where, +amidst gardens and parks, stood his extensive library, with +scribes to multiply his manuscripts:—from Tycho Brahe’s, +who built a magnificent astronomical house on an island, +which he named after the sole objects of his musings Uranienburgh, +or the Castle of the Heavens;—to that of Evelyn, +who first began to adorn Wotton, by building “a little +study,” till many years after he dedicated the ancient house +to contemplation, among the “delicious streams and venerable +woods, the gardens, the fountains, and the groves, most +tempting for a great person and a wanton purse; and indeed +gave one of the first examples to that elegancy since so much +in vogue.”—From Pope, whose little garden seemed to multiply +its scenes by a glorious union of nobility and literary +men conversing in groups;—down to lonely Shenstone, whose +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page395" id="page395"></a>395</span> +“rural elegance,” as he entitles one of his odes, compelled +him to mourn over his hard fate, when</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + + <p class="i9">————<span class="sc">Expense</span></p> +<p>Had lavish’d thousand ornaments, and taught</p> +<p><span class="sc">Convenience</span> to perplex him, <span class="sc">Art</span> to pall,</p> +<p><span class="sc">Pomp</span> to deject, and <span class="sc">Beauty</span> to displease.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + + +<p>We have all by heart the true and delightful reflection of +Johnson on local associations, when the scene we tread suggests +to us the men or the deeds, which have left their celebrity +to the spot. We are in the presence of their fame, +and feel its influence!</p> + +<p>A literary friend, whom a hint of mine had induced to +visit the old tower in the garden of Buffon, where the sage +retired every morning to compose, passed so long a time in +that lonely apartment as to have raised some solicitude among +the honest folks of Montbard, who having seen the “Englishman” +enter, but not return, during a heavy thunder-storm +which had occurred in the interval, informed the good mayor, +who came in due form, to notify the ambiguous state of the +stranger. My friend is, as is well known, a genius of that +cast who could pass two hours in the <i>Tower of Buffon</i>, +without being aware that he had been all that time occupied +by suggestions of ideas and reveries, which in some minds such +a locality may excite. He was also busied with his pencil; for +he has favoured me with two drawings of the interior and +the exterior of this <i>old tower in the garden</i>: the nakedness +within can only be compared to the solitude without. Such +was the studying-room of Buffon, where his eye, resting on no +object, never interrupted the unity of his meditations on nature.</p> + +<p>In return for my friend’s kindness, it has cost me, I think, +two hours in attempting to translate the beautiful picture of +this literary retreat, which Vicq d’Azyr has finished with all +the warmth of a votary. “At Montbard, in the midst of an +ornamented garden, is seen an antique tower; it was there +that Buffon wrote the History of Nature, and from that spot +his fame spread through the universe. There he came at sunrise, +and no one, however importunate, was suffered to trouble +him. The calm of the morning hour, the first warbling of +the birds, the varied aspect of the country, all at that moment +which touched the senses, recalled him to his model. +Free, independent, he wandered in his walks; there was he +seen with quickened or with slow steps, or standing wrapped +in thought, sometimes with his eyes fixed on the heavens in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page396" id="page396"></a>396</span> +the moment of inspiration, as if satisfied with the thought +that so profoundly occupied his soul; sometimes, collected +within himself, he sought what would not always be found; +or at the moments of producing, he wrote, he effaced, and rewrote, +to efface once more; thus he harmonised, in silence, +all the parts of his composition, which he frequently repeated +to himself, till, satisfied with his corrections, he seemed to +repay himself for the pains of his beautiful prose, by the +pleasure he found in declaiming it aloud. Thus he engraved +it in his memory, and would recite it to his friends, or induce +some to read it to him. At those moments he was himself a +severe judge, and would again re-compose it, desirous of attaining to +that perfection which is denied to the impatient writer.”</p> + +<p>A curious circumstance, connected with local associations, +occurred to that extraordinary oriental student, Fourmont. +Originally he belonged to a religious community, and never +failed in performing his offices: but he was expelled by the +superior for an irregularity of conduct not likely to have +become contagious through the brotherhood—he frequently +prolonged his studies far into the night, and it was possible +that the house might be burnt by such superfluity of learning. +Fourmont retreated to the college of Montaign, where he +occupied the very chambers which had formerly been those of +Erasmus; a circumstance which contributed to excite his +emulation, and to hasten his studies. He who smiles at the +force of such emotions, only proves that he has not experienced +what are real and substantial as the scene itself—for +those who are concerned in them. Pope, who had far more +enthusiasm in his poetical disposition than is generally understood, +was extremely susceptible of the literary associations +with localities: one of the volumes of his Homer was begun +and finished in an old tower over the chapel of Stanton Harcourt;<a name="FnAnchor_256" id="FnAnchor_256" href="#Footnote_256"><span class="sp">256</span></a> +and he has perpetuated the event, if not consecrated +the place, by scratching with a diamond on a pane of stained +glass this inscription:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>In the year 1718,</p> +<p><span class="sc">Alexander Pope</span></p> +<p>Finished here the f....</p> +<p>fifth volume of <span class="sc">Homer</span>.<a name="FnAnchor_257" id="FnAnchor_257" href="#Footnote_257"><span class="sp">257</span></a></p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page397" id="page397"></a>397</span></p> + +<p class="noind">It was the same feeling which induced him one day, when +taking his usual walk with Harte in the Haymarket, to +desire Harte to enter a little shop, where going up three pair +of stairs into a small room, Pope said, “In this garret Addison +wrote his <i>Campaign</i>!” Nothing less than a strong +feeling impelled the poet to ascend this garret—it was a consecrated +spot to his eye; and certainly a curious instance of +the power of genius contrasted with its miserable locality! +Addison, whose mind had fought through “a campaign!” in +a garret, could he have called about him “the pleasures of +imagination,” had probably planned a house of literary repose, +where all parts would have been in harmony with his mind.</p> + +<p>Such residences of men of genius have been enjoyed by +some; and the vivid descriptions which they have left us convey +something of the delightfulness which charmed their +studious repose.</p> + +<p>The Italian, Paul Jovius, has composed more than three +hundred concise eulogies of statesmen, warriors, and literary +men, of the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries; but +the occasion which induced him to compose them is perhaps +more interesting than the compositions.</p> + +<p>Jovius had a villa, situated on a peninsula, bordered by the +Lake of Como. It was built on the ruins of the villa of Pliny, +and in his time the foundations were still visible. When the +surrounding lake was calm, the sculptured marbles, the +trunks of columns, and the fragments of those pyramids +which had once adorned the residence of the friend of Trajan, +were still viewed in its lucid bosom. Jovius was the enthusiast +of literature, and the leisure which it loves. He was an +historian, with the imagination of a poet, and though a +Christian prelate, almost a worshipper of the sweet fictions of +pagan mythology; and when his pen was kept pure from +satire or adulation, to which it was too much accustomed, it +became a pencil. He paints with rapture his gardens bathed +by the waters of the lake; the shade and freshness of his +woods; his green slopes; his sparkling fountains, the deep +silence and calm of his solitude! A statue was raised in his +gardens to Nature! In his hall stood a fine statue of Apollo, +and the Muses around, with their attributes. His library +was guarded by a Mercury, and there was an apartment +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page398" id="page398"></a>398</span> +adorned with Doric columns, and with pictures of the most +pleasing subjects dedicated to the Graces! Such was the +interior! Without, the transparent lake here spread its +broad mirror, and there was seen luminously winding by +banks covered with olives and laurels; in the distance, towns, +promontories, hills rising in an amphitheatre, blushing with +vines, and the first elevation of the Alps, covered with woods +and pasture, and sprinkled with herds and flocks.</p> + +<p>It was in a central spot of this enchanting habitation that +a cabinet or gallery was erected, where Jovius had collected +with prodigal cost the portraits of celebrated men; and it was +to explain and to describe the characteristics of these illustrious +names that he had composed his eulogies. This collection +became so remarkable, that the great men his contemporaries +presented our literary collector with their own +portraits, among whom the renowned Fernandez Cortes sent +Jovius his before he died, and probably others who were less +entitled to enlarge the collection; but it is equally probable +that our caustic Jovius would throw them aside. Our +historian had often to describe men more famous than virtuous; +sovereigns, politicians, poets, and philosophers, men of all +ranks, countries, and ages, formed a crowded scene of men of +genius or of celebrity; sometimes a few lines compress their +character, and sometimes a few pages excite his fondness. If +he sometimes adulates the living, we may pardon the illusions +of a contemporary; but he has the honour of satirising some +by the honest freedom of a pen which occasionally broke out +into premature truths.</p> + +<p>Such was the inspiration of literature and leisure which +had embellished the abode of Jovius, and had raised in the +midst of the Lake of Como a cabinet of portraits; a noble tribute +to those who are “the salt of the earth.”</p> + +<p>We possess prints of Rubens’s house at Antwerp. That +princely artist perhaps first contrived for his <i>studio</i> the +circular apartment with a dome, like the rotunda of the +Pantheon, where the light descending from an aperture or +window at the top, sent down a single equal light,—that perfection +of light which distributes its magical effects on the +objects beneath.<a name="FnAnchor_258" id="FnAnchor_258" href="#Footnote_258"><span class="sp">258</span></a> Bellori describes it <i>una stanza rotonda con +un solo occhio in cima</i>; the <i>solo occhio</i> is what the French +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page399" id="page399"></a>399</span> +term <i>œil de bœuf</i>; we ourselves want this <i>single eye</i> in our +technical language of art. This was his precious museum, +where he had collected a vast number of books, which were +intermixed with his marbles, statues, cameos, intaglios, and +all that variety of the riches of art which he had drawn from +Rome:<a name="FnAnchor_259" id="FnAnchor_259" href="#Footnote_259"><span class="sp">259</span></a> but the walls did not yield in value; for they were +covered by pictures of his own composition, or copies by his +own hand, made at Venice and Madrid, of Titian and Paul +Veronese. No foreigners, men of letters, or lovers of the arts, +or even princes, would pass through Antwerp without visiting +the house of Rubens, to witness the animated residence of +genius, and the great man who had conceived the idea. Yet, +great as was his mind, and splendid as were the habits of his +life, he could not resist the entreaties of the hundred thousand +florins of our Duke of Buckingham, to dispose of this <i>studio</i>. +The great artist could not, however, abandon for ever the delightful +contemplations he was depriving himself of; and as +substitutes for the miracles of art he had lost, he solicited and +obtained leave to replace them by casts which were scrupulously +deposited in the places where the originals had +stood.</p> + +<p>Of this feeling of the local residences of genius, the Italians +appear to have been not perhaps more susceptible than other +people, but more energetic in their enthusiasm. Florence +exhibits many monuments of this sort. In the neighbourhood +of <i>Santa Maria Novella</i>, Zimmerman has noticed a +house of the celebrated Viviani, which is a singular monument +of gratitude to his illustrious master, Galileo. The +front is adorned with the bust of this father of science, and +between the windows are engraven accounts of the discoveries +of Galileo; it is the most beautiful biography of genius! Yet +another still more eloquently excites our emotions—the house +of Michael Angelo: his pupils, in perpetual testimony of their +admiration and gratitude, have ornamented it with all the +leading features of his life; the very soul of this vast genius +put in action: this is more than biography!—it is living as +with a contemporary!</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_256" id="Footnote_256" href="#FnAnchor_256"><span class="fn">256</span></a> The room is a small wainscoted apartment in the second floor, commanding +a pleasant view.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_257" id="Footnote_257" href="#FnAnchor_257"><span class="fn">257</span></a> The above inscription is a fac-simile of that upon the glass. The +word <i>fifth</i> in the third line has been erased by Pope for want of room to +complete it properly. It is scratched on a small pane of red glass, and +has been removed to Nuneham Courtney, the seat of the Harcourt family, +on the banks of the Thames, a few miles from Oxford.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_258" id="Footnote_258" href="#FnAnchor_258"><span class="fn">258</span></a> Harrewyns published, in 1684, a series of interesting views of the +house, and some of the apartments, including this domed one. The series +are upon one folio sheet, now very rare.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_259" id="Footnote_259" href="#FnAnchor_259"><span class="fn">259</span></a> Rubens was an ardent collector, and lost no chance of increasing his +stores; in the appendix to Carpenter’s “Pictorial Notices of Vandyke” is +printed the correspondence between himself and Sir D. Carleton, offering to +exchange some of his own pictures for antiques in possession of the latter, +who was ambassador from England to Holland, and who collected also for +the Earl of Arundel.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page400" id="page400"></a>400</span></p> +<h3>WHETHER ALLOWABLE TO RUIN ONESELF?</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">The</span> political economist replies that it is!</p> + +<p>One of our old dramatic writers, who witnessed the singular +extravagance of dress among the modellers of fashion, our +nobility, condemns their “superfluous bravery,” echoing the +popular cry—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>“There are a sort of men, whose coining heads</p> +<p>Are mints of all new fashions, that have done</p> +<p>More hurt to the kingdom, by superfluous bravery,</p> +<p>Which the foolish gentry imitate, than a war</p> +<p>Or a long famine. <i>All the treasure by</i></p> +<p><i>This foul excess is got into the merchants’,</i></p> +<p><i>Embroiderers’, silkmen’s, jewellers’, tailors’ hands,</i></p> +<p><i>And the third part of the land too!</i> the nobility</p> +<p>Engrossing <i>titles only</i>.”</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Our poet might have been startled at the reply of our +political economist. If the nobility, in follies such as these, +only preserved their “titles,” while their “lands” were dispersed +among the industrious classes, the people were not +sufferers. The silly victims ruining themselves by their +excessive luxury, or their costly dress, as it appears some +did, was an evil which, left to its own course, must check +itself; if the rich did not spend, the poor would starve. +Luxury is the cure of that unavoidable evil in society—great +inequality of fortune! Political economists therefore tell us +that any regulations would be ridiculous which, as Lord +Bacon expresses it, should serve for “the repressing of waste +and excess by <i>sumptuary laws</i>.” Adam Smith is not only +indignant at “sumptuary laws,” but asserts, with a democratic +insolence of style, that “it is the highest impertinence +and presumption in kings and ministers to pretend to watch +over the economy of private people, and to restrain their +expense by sumptuary laws. They are themselves always +the greatest spendthrifts in the society; let them look well +after their own expense, and they may safely trust private +people with theirs. If their own extravagance does not ruin +the state, that of their subjects never will.” We must therefore +infer that governments by extravagance may ruin a state, +but that individuals enjoy the remarkable privilege of ruining +themselves without injuring society! Adam Smith afterwards +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page401" id="page401"></a>401</span> +distinguishes two sorts of luxury: the one exhausting +itself in “durable commodities, as in buildings, furniture, +books, statues, pictures,” will increase “the opulence of a +nation;” but of the other, wasting itself in dress and equipages, +in frivolous ornaments, jewels, baubles, trinkets, &c., +he acknowledges “no trace or vestige would remain; and the +effects of ten or twenty years’ profusion would be as completely +annihilated as if they had never existed.” There is, +therefore, a greater and a lesser evil in this important subject +of the opulent, unrestricted by any law, ruining his whole +generation.</p> + +<p>Where “the wealth of nations” is made the solitary +standard of their prosperity, it becomes a fertile source of +errors in the science of morals; and the happiness of the +individual is then too frequently sacrificed to what is called +the prosperity of the state. If an individual, in the pride +of luxury and selfism, annihilates the fortunes of his whole +generation, untouched by the laws as a criminal, he leaves +behind him a race of the discontented and the seditious, who, +having sunk in the scale of society, have to reascend from +their degradation by industry and by humiliation; but for +the work of industry their habits have made them inexpert; +and to humiliation their very rank presents a perpetual +obstacle.</p> + +<p>Sumptuary laws, so often enacted and so often repealed, +and always eluded, were the perpetual, but ineffectual, +attempts of all governments to restrain what, perhaps, +cannot be restrained—criminal folly! And to punish a man +for having ruined himself would usually be to punish a most +contrite penitent.</p> + +<p>It is not surprising that before “private vices were considered +as public benefits,” the governors of nations instituted +sumptuary laws—for the passion for pageantry and an +incredible prodigality in dress were continually impoverishing +great families—more equality of wealth has now rather subdued +the form of private ruin than laid this evil domestic +spirit. The incalculable expenditure and the blaze of splendour +of our ancestors may startle the incredulity of our +<i>élégantes</i>. We find men of rank exhausting their wealth +and pawning their castles, and then desperately issuing from +them, heroes for a crusade, or brigands for their neighbourhood!—and +this frequently from the simple circumstance of +having for a short time maintained some gorgeous chivalric +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page402" id="page402"></a>402</span> +festival on their own estates, or from having melted thousands +of acres into cloth of gold; their sons were left to beg +their bread on the estates which they were to have inherited.</p> + +<p>It was when chivalry still charmed the world by the remains +of its seductive splendours, towards the close of the +fifteenth century, that I find an instance of this kind occurring +in the <i>Pas de Sandricourt</i>, which was held in the +neighbourhood of the sieur of that name. It is a memorable +affair, not only for us curious inquirers after manners and +morals, but for the whole family of the Sandricourts; for +though the said sieur is now receiving the immortality we +bestow on him, and <i>la dame</i> who presided in that magnificent +piece of chivalry was infinitely gratified, yet for ever after +was the lord of Sandricourt ruined—and all for a short, +romantic three months!</p> + +<p>This story of the chivalric period may amuse. A <i>pas +d’armes</i>, though consisting of military exercises and deeds +of gallantry, was a sort of festival distinct from a tournament. +It signified a <i>pas</i> or passage to be contested by one +or more knights against all comers. It was necessary that +the road should be such that it could not be passed without +encountering some guardian knight. The <i>chevaliers</i> who +disputed the <i>pas</i> hung their blazoned shields on trees, pales, +or posts raised for this purpose. The aspirants after chivalric +honours would strike with their lance one of these shields, +and when it rung, it instantly summoned the owner to the +challenge. A bridge or a road would sometimes serve for +this military sport, for such it was intended to be, whenever +the heat of the rivals proved not too earnest. The sieur of +Sandricourt was a fine dreamer of feats of chivalry, and in +the neighbourhood of his castle he fancied that he saw a very +spot adapted for every game; there was one admirably fitted +for the barrier of a tilting-match; another embellished by a +solitary pine-tree; another which was called the meadow of +the Thorn; there was a <i>carrefour</i>, where, in four roads, four +knights might meet; and, above all, there was a forest called +<i>devoyable</i>, having no path, so favourable for errant knights +who might there enter for strange adventures, and, as chance +directed, encounter others as bewildered as themselves. Our +chivalric Sandricourt found nine young <i>seigneurs</i> of the court +of Charles the Eighth of France, who answered all his wishes. +To sanction this glorious feat it was necessary to obtain leave +from the king, and a herald of the Duke of Orleans to distribute +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page403" id="page403"></a>403</span> +the <i>cartel</i> or challenge all over France, announcing that +from such a day ten young lords would stand ready to combat, +in those different places, in the neighbourhood of Sandricourt’s +<i>château</i>. The names of this flower of chivalry have +been faithfully registered, and they were such as instantly to +throw a spark into the heart of every lover of arms! The +world of fashion, that is, the chivalric world, were set in +motion. Four bodies of assailants soon collected, each consisting +of ten combatants. The herald of Orleans having +examined the arms of these gentlemen, and satisfied himself +of their ancient lineage and their military renown, admitted +their claims to the proffered honour. Sandricourt now saw +with rapture the numerous shields of the assailants placed on +the sides of his portals, and corresponding with those of the +challengers which hung above them. Ancient lords were +elected judges of the feats of the knights, accompanied by +the ladies, for whose honour only the combatants declared +they engaged.</p> + +<p>The herald of Orleans tells the history in no very intelligible +verse; but the burthen of his stanza is still</p> + +<p class="center1 f90"><i>Du pas d’armes du chasteau Sandricourt.</i></p> + +<p class="noind">He sings, or says,</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Oncques, depuis le tempts du roi Artus,</p> +<p>Ne furent tant les armes exaulcées—</p> +<p>Maint chevaliers et preux entreprenans—</p> +<p>Princes plusieurs ont terres déplacées</p> +<p>Pour y venir donner coups et poussées</p> +<p>Qui out été lá tenus si de court</p> +<p>Que par force n’ont prises et passées</p> +<p>Les barriers, entrées, et passées</p> +<p>Du pas des armes du chasteau Sandricourt.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Doubtless there many a Roland met with his Oliver, and +could not pass the barriers. Cased as they were in steel, <i>de +pied en cap</i>, we presume that they could not materially injure +themselves; yet, when on foot, the ancient judges discovered +such symptoms of peril, that on the following day they +advised our knights to satisfy themselves by fighting on +horseback. Against this prudential counsel for some time +they protested, as an inferior sort of glory. However, on +the next day, the horse combat was appointed in the <i>carrefour</i>, +by the pine-tree. On the following day they tried +their lances in the meadow of the Thorn; but, though on +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page404" id="page404"></a>404</span> +horseback, the judges deemed their attacks were so fierce +that this assault was likewise not without peril; for some +horses were killed, and some knights were thrown, and lay +bruised by their own mail; but the barbed horses, wearing +only <i>des chamfreins</i>, head-pieces magnificently caparisoned, +found no protection in their ornaments. The last days were +passed in combats of two to two, or in a single encounter, +a-foot, in the <i>forêt devoyable</i>. These jousts passed without +any accident, and the prizes were awarded in a manner equally +gratifying to the claimants. The last day of the festival +was concluded with a most sumptuous banquet. Two noble +knights had undertaken the humble office of <i>maîtres-d’hôtel</i>; +and while the knights were parading in the <i>forêt devoyable</i> +seeking adventures, a hundred servants were seen at all +points, carrying white and red hypocras, and juleps, and <i>sirop +de violars</i>, sweetmeats, and other spiceries, to comfort these +wanderers, who, on returning to the <i>chasteau</i>, found a grand +and plenteous banquet. The tables were crowded in the court +apartment, where some held one hundred and twelve gentlemen, +not including the <i>dames</i> and the <i>demoiselles</i>. In the +halls, and outside of the <i>chasteau</i>, were other tables. At +that festival more than two thousand persons were magnificently +entertained free of every expense; their attendants, +their armourers, their <i>plumassiers</i>, and others, were also +present. <i>La Dame de Sandricourt</i>, “fût moult aise d’avoir +donné dans son chasteau si belle, si magnifique, et gorgiasse +fête.” Historians are apt to describe their personages as +they appear, not as they are: if the lady of the Sieur Sandricourt +really was “moult aise” during these gorgeous days, +one cannot but sympathise with the lady, when her loyal +knight and spouse confessed to her, after the departure of +the mob of two thousand visitors, neighbours, soldiers, and +courtiers,—the knights challengers, and the knights assailants, +and the fine scenes at the pine-tree; the barrier in the meadow +of the Thorn; and the horse-combat at the <i>carrefour</i>; and +the jousts in the <i>forêt devoyable</i>; the carousals in the castle +halls; the jollity of the banquet tables; the morescoes danced +till they were reminded “how the waning night grew old!”—in +a word, when the costly dream had vanished,—that he was +a ruined man for ever, by immortalising his name in one +grand chivalric festival! The Sieur de Sandricourt, like a +great torch, had consumed himself in his own brightness; +and the very land on which the famous <i>Pas de Sandricourt</i> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page405" id="page405"></a>405</span> +was held—had passed away with it! Thus one man sinks +generations by that wastefulness, which a political economist +would assure us was committing no injury to society! The +moral evil goes for nothing in financial statements.</p> + +<p>Similar instances of ruinous luxury we may find in the +prodigal costliness of dress through the reigns of Elizabeth, +James the First, and Charles the First. Not only in their +massy grandeur they outweighed us, but the accumulation +and variety of their wardrobe displayed such a gaiety of fancy +in their colours and their ornaments, that the drawing-room +in those days must have blazed at their presence, and changed +colours as the crowd moved. But if we may trust to royal +proclamations, the ruin was general among some classes. +Elizabeth issued more than one proclamation against “the +excess of apparel!” and among other evils which the government +imagined this passion for dress occasioned, it notices +“the wasting and undoing of a great number of young gentlemen, +otherwise serviceable; and that others, seeking by show +of apparel to be esteemed as gentlemen, and allured by the +vain show of these things, not only consume their goods and +lands, but also run into such debts and shifts, as they cannot +live out of danger of laws without attempting of unlawful +acts.” The queen bids her own household “to look unto it +for good example to the realm; and all noblemen, archbishops +and bishops, all mayors, justices of peace, &c., should see them +executed in their private households.” The greatest difficulty +which occurred to regulate the wear of apparel was ascertaining +the incomes of persons, or in the words of the proclamation, +“finding that it is very hard for any man’s state of +living and value to be truly understood by other persons.” +They were to be regulated as they appear “sessed in the +subsidy books.” But if persons chose to be more magnificent +in their dress, they were allowed to justify their means: in +that case, if allowed, her majesty would not be the loser; for +they were to be rated in the subsidy books according to such +values as they themselves offered as a qualification for the +splendour of their dress!</p> + +<p>In my researches among manuscript letters of the times, I +have had frequent occasion to discover how persons of considerable +rank appear to have carried their acres on their +backs, and with their ruinous and fantastical luxuries sadly +pinched their hospitality. It was this which so frequently +cast them into the nets of the “goldsmiths,” and other +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page406" id="page406"></a>406</span> +trading usurers. At the coronation of James the First, I +find a simple knight whose cloak cost him five hundred +pounds; but this was not uncommon.<a name="FnAnchor_260" id="FnAnchor_260" href="#Footnote_260"><span class="sp">260</span></a> At the marriage of +Elizabeth, the daughter of James the First, “Lady Wotton +had a gown of which the embroidery cost fifty pounds a yard. +The Lady Arabella made four gowns, one of which cost 1500<i>l.</i> +The Lord Montacute (Montague) bestowed 1500<i>l.</i> in apparel +for his two daughters. One lady, under the rank of baroness, +was furnished with jewels exceeding one hundred thousand +pounds; “and the Lady Arabella goes beyond her,” says the +letter-writer. “All this extreme costs and riches makes us +all poor,” as he imagined!<a name="FnAnchor_261" id="FnAnchor_261" href="#Footnote_261"><span class="sp">261</span></a> I have been amused in observing +grave writers of state-dispatches jocular on any mischance or +mortification to which persons are liable whose happiness +entirely depends on their dress. Sir Dudley Carleton, our +minister at Venice, communicates, as an article worth transmitting, +the great disappointment incurred by Sir Thomas +Glover, “who was just come hither, and had appeared one day +like a comet, all in crimson velvet and beaten gold, but had all +his expectations marred on a sudden by the news of Prince +Henry’s death.” A similar mischance, from a different cause, +was the lot of Lord Hay, who made great preparations for his +embassy to France, which, however, were chiefly confined to his +dress. He was to remain there twenty days; and the letter-writer +maliciously observes, that “He goes with twenty special +suits of apparel for so many days’ abode, besides his travelling +robes; but news is very lately come that the French have +lately altered their fashion, whereby he must needs be out +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page407" id="page407"></a>407</span> +of countenance, if he be not set out after the last edition!” +To find himself out of fashion, with twenty suits for twenty +days, was a mischance his lordship had no right to count on!</p> + +<p>“The glass of fashion” was unquestionably held up by two +very eminent characters, Rawleigh and Buckingham; and the +authentic facts recorded of their dress will sufficiently account +for the frequent “Proclamations” to control that servile +herd of imitators—the smaller gentry!</p> + +<p>There is a remarkable picture of Sir Walter, which will at +least serve to convey an idea of the gaiety and splendour of +his dress. It is a white satin pinked vest, close sleeved to +the wrist; over the body a brown doublet, finely flowered and +embroidered with pearl. In the feather of his hat a large +ruby and pearl drop at the bottom of the sprig, in place of a +button; his trunk or breeches, with his stockings and riband +garters, fringed at the end, all white, and buff shoes with +white riband. Oldys, who saw this picture, has thus described +the dress of Rawleigh. But I have some important additions; +for I find that Rawleigh’s shoes on great court days were so +gorgeously covered with precious stones, as to have exceeded +the value of six thousand six hundred pounds: and that he +had a suit of armour of solid silver, with sword and belt +blazing with diamonds, rubies, and pearls, whose value was +not so easily calculated. Rawleigh had no patrimonial inheritance; +at this moment he had on his back a good portion +of a Spanish galleon, and the profits of a monopoly of trade +he was carrying on with the newly discovered Virginia. Probably +he placed all his hopes in his dress! The virgin queen, +when she issued proclamations against “the excess of apparel,” +pardoned, by her looks, that promise of a mine which blazed +in Rawleigh’s; and, parsimonious as she was, forgot the three +thousand changes of dresses which she herself left in the royal +wardrobe.</p> + +<p>Buckingham could afford to have his diamonds tacked so +loosely on, that when he chose to shake a few off on the +ground, he obtained all the fame he desired from the pickers-up, +who were generally <i>les dames de la cour</i>; for our duke +never condescended to accept what he himself had dropped. +His cloaks were trimmed with great diamond buttons, and +diamond hatbands, cockades, and ear-rings yoked with great +ropes and knots of pearls. This was, however, but for ordinary +dances. “He had twenty-seven suits of clothes made, the +richest that embroidery, lace, silk, velvet, silver, gold, and gems +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page408" id="page408"></a>408</span> +could contribute; one of which was a white uncut velvet, set +all over, both suit and cloak, with diamonds valued at fourscore +thousand pounds, besides a great feather stuck all over +with diamonds, as were also his sword, girdle, hat, and spurs.”<a name="FnAnchor_262" id="FnAnchor_262" href="#Footnote_262"><span class="sp">262</span></a> +In the masques and banquets with which Buckingham entertained +the court, he usually expended, for the evening, from +one to five thousand pounds. To others I leave to calculate +the value of money: the sums of this gorgeous wastefulness, +it must be recollected, occurred before this million age of ours.</p> + +<p>If, to provide the means for such enormous expenditure, +Buckingham multiplied the grievances of monopolies; if he +pillaged the treasury for his eighty thousand pounds’ coat; if +Rawleigh was at length driven to his last desperate enterprise +to relieve himself of his creditors for a pair of six thousand +pounds’ shoes—in both these cases, as in that of the +chivalric Sandricourt, the political economist may perhaps +acknowledge that <i>there is a sort of luxury highly criminal</i>. +All the arguments he may urge, all the statistical accounts +he may calculate, and the healthful state of his circulating +medium among “the merchants, embroiderers, silkmen, and +jewellers”—will not alter such a moral evil, which leaves an +eternal taint on “the wealth of nations!” It is the principle +that “private vices are public benefits,” and that men may +be allowed to ruin their generations without committing any +injury to society.</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_260" id="Footnote_260" href="#FnAnchor_260"><span class="fn">260</span></a> The famous Puritanic writer, Philip Stubbes, who published his +“Anatomie of Abuses” in 1593, declares that he “has heard of shirtes +that have cost some ten shillings, some twentie, some fortie, some five +pound, some twentie nobles, and (which is horrible to heare) some tenne +pounde a peece.” His book is filled with similar denunciations of abuses; in +which he is followed by other satirists. They appear to have produced +little effect in the way of reformation; for in the days of James I, John +Taylor, the Water poet, similarly laments the wastefulness of those who—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr" style="font-size: 100%"> + +<p>Wear a farm in shoe-strings edged with gold,</p> +<p>And spangled garters worth a copyhold;</p> +<p>A hose and doublet which a lordship cost;</p> +<p>A gaudy cloak, three manors’ price almost;</p> +<p>A beaver band and feather for the head</p> +<p>Priced at the church’s tythe, the poor man’s bread.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p><a name="Footnote_261" id="Footnote_261" href="#FnAnchor_261"><span class="fn">261</span></a> It is not unusual to find in inventories of this era, the household +effects rated at much less than the wearing apparel, of the person whose +property is thus valued.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_262" id="Footnote_262" href="#FnAnchor_262"><span class="fn">262</span></a> The Jesuit Drexelius, in one of his Religious Dialogues, notices the fact; +but I am referring to an Harleian manuscript, which confirms the information +of the Jesuit.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>DISCOVERIES OF SECLUDED MEN.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Those</span> who are unaccustomed to the labours of the closet are +unacquainted with the secret and silent triumphs obtained in +the pursuits of studious men. That aptitude, which in poetry +is sometimes called <i>inspiration</i>, in knowledge we may call +<i>sagacity</i>; and it is probable that the vehemence of the one +does not excite more pleasure than the still tranquillity of +the other: they are both, according to the strict signification +of the Latin term from whence we have borrowed ours of <i>invention</i>, +a finding out, the result of a combination which no +other has formed but ourselves.</p> + +<p>I will produce several remarkable instances of the felicity +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page409" id="page409"></a>409</span> +of this aptitude of the learned in making discoveries which +could only have been effectuated by an uninterrupted intercourse +with the objects of their studies, making things remote +and dispersed familiar and present.<a name="FnAnchor_263" id="FnAnchor_263" href="#Footnote_263"><span class="sp">263</span></a></p> + +<p>One of ancient date is better known to the reader than +those I am preparing for him. When the magistrates of +Syracuse were showing to Cicero the curiosities of the place, +he desired to visit the tomb of Archimedes; but, to his surprise, +they acknowledged that they knew nothing of any such +tomb, and denied that it ever existed. The learned Cicero, +convinced by the authorities of ancient writers, by the verses +of the inscription which he remembered, and the circumstance +of a sphere with a cylinder being engraven on it, requested +them to assist him in the search. They conducted the illustrious +but obstinate stranger to their most ancient burying-ground: +amidst the number of sepulchres, they observed a +small column overhung with brambles—Cicero, looking on +while they were clearing away the rubbish, suddenly exclaimed, +“Here is the thing we are looking for!” His eye +had caught the geometrical figures on the tomb, and the inscription +soon confirmed his conjecture. Cicero long after +exulted in the triumph of this discovery. “Thus!” he says, +“one of the noblest cities of Greece, and once the most +learned, had known nothing of the monument of its most +deserving and ingenious citizen, had it not been discovered +to them by a native of Arpinum!”</p> + +<p>The great French antiquary, Peiresc, exhibited a singular +combination of learning, patient thought, and luminous sagacity, +which could restore an “airy nothing” to “a local +habitation and a name.” There was found on an amethyst, +and the same afterwards occurred on the front of an ancient +temple, a number of <i>marks</i>, or indents, which had long perplexed +inquirers, more particularly as similar marks or indents +were frequently observed in ancient monuments. It +was agreed on, as no one could understand them, and all +would be satisfied, that they were secret hieroglyphics. It +occurred to Peiresc that these marks were nothing more +than holes for small nails, which had formerly fastened little +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page410" id="page410"></a>410</span> +<i>laminæ</i>, which represented so many Greek letters. This hint +of his own suggested to him to draw lines from one hole to +another; and he beheld the amethyst reveal the name of the +sculptor, and the frieze of the temple the name of the god! +This curious discovery has been since frequently applied; but +it appears to have originated with this great antiquary, who +by his learning and sagacity explained a supposed hieroglyphic, +which had been locked up in the silence of seventeen +centuries.<a name="FnAnchor_264" id="FnAnchor_264" href="#Footnote_264"><span class="sp">264</span></a></p> + +<p>Learned men, confined to their study, have often rectified +the errors of travellers; they have done more, they have found +out paths for them to explore, or opened seas for them to +navigate. The situation of the vale of Tempe had been mistaken +by modern travellers; and it is singular, observes the +Quarterly Reviewer, yet not so singular as it appears to that +elegant critic, that the only good directions for finding it +had been given by a person who was never in Greece. Arthur +Browne, a man of letters of Trinity College, Dublin—it is +gratifying to quote an Irish philosopher and man of letters, +from the extreme rarity of the character—was the first to +detect the inconsistencies of Pococke and Busching, and to +send future travellers to look for Tempe in its real situation, +the defiles between Ossa and Olympus; a discovery subsequently +realised. When Dr. Clarke discovered an inscription +purporting that the pass of Tempe had been fortified by +Cassius Longinus, Mr. Walpole, with equal felicity, detected, +in Cæsar’s “History of the Civil War,” the name and the +mission of this very person.</p> + +<p>A living geographer, to whom the world stands deeply indebted, +does not read Herodotus in the original; yet, by the +exercise of his extraordinary aptitude, it is well known that +he has often corrected the Greek historian, explained obscurities +in a text which he never read, by his own happy conjectures, +and confirmed his own discoveries by the subsequent +knowledge which modern travellers have afforded.</p> + +<p>Gray’s perseverance in studying the geography of India +and of Persia, at a time when our country had no immediate +interests with those ancient empires, would have been placed +by a cynical observer among the curious idleness of a mere +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page411" id="page411"></a>411</span> +man of letters. These studies were indeed prosecuted, as +Mr. Mathias observes, “on the disinterested principles of +liberal investigation, not on those of policy, nor of the regulation +of trade, nor of the extension of empire, nor of permanent +establishments, but simply and solely on the grand view +of what is, and of what is past. They were the researches of +a solitary scholar in academical retirement.” Since the time +of Gray, these very pursuits have been carried on by two +consummate geographers, Major Rennel and Dr. Vincent, +who have opened to the classical and the political reader all +he wished to learn, at a time when India and Persia had become +objects interesting and important to us. The fruits of +Gray’s learning, long after their author was no more, became +valuable!</p> + +<p>The studies of the “solitary scholar” are always useful to +the world, although they may not always be timed to its +present wants; with him, indeed, they are not merely designed +for this purpose. Gray discovered India for himself; +but the solitary pursuits of a great student, shaped to a particular +end, will never fail being useful to the world; though +it may happen that a century may elapse between the +periods of the discovery and its practical utility.</p> + +<p>Halley’s version of an Arabic MS. on a mathematical subject +offers an instance of the extraordinary sagacity I am +alluding to; it may also serve as a demonstration of the +peculiar and supereminent advantages possessed by mathematicians, +observes Mr. Dugald Stewart, in their fixed relations, +which form the objects of their science, and the correspondent +precision in their language and reasoning:—as matter of +literary history it is highly curious. Dr. Bernard accidentally +discovered in the Bodleian Library an Arabic version of +Apollonius <i>de Sectione Rationis</i>, which he determined to +translate in Latin, but only finished about a tenth part. +Halley, extremely interested by the subject, but with an +entire ignorance of the Arabic language, resolved to complete +the imperfect version! Assisted only by the manuscript +which Bernard had left, it served him as a key for investigating +the sense of the original; he first made <i>a list of those +words</i> wherever they occurred, with the <i>train of reasoning</i> in +which they were involved, to decipher, by these very slow +degrees, the import of the context; till at last Halley succeeded +in mastering the whole work, and in bringing the +translation, without the aid of any one, to the form in which +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page412" id="page412"></a>412</span> +he gave it to the public; so that we have here a difficult +work translated from the Arabic, by one who was in no +manner conversant with the language, merely by the exertion +of his sagacity!</p> + +<p>I give the memorable account, as Boyle has delivered it, +of the circumstances which led Harvey to the discovery of +the circulation of the blood.</p> + +<p>“I remember that when I asked our famous Harvey, in +the only discourse I had with him, which was but a little +while before he died, what were the things which induced +him to think of a circulation of the blood, he answered me, +that when he took notice that the valves in the veins of so +many parts of the body were so placed that they gave free +passage to the blood towards the heart, but opposed the +passage of the venal blood the contrary way, he was invited +to think that so provident a cause as nature had not placed +so many valves without design; and no design seemed more +probable than that, since the blood could not well, because +of the interposing valves, be sent by the veins to the limbs, +it should be sent through the arteries and return through +the veins, whose valves did not oppose its course that way.”</p> + +<p>The reason here ascribed to Harvey seems now so very +natural and obvious, that some have been disposed to question +his claim to the high rank commonly assigned to him among +the improvers of science! Dr. William Hunter has said that +after the discovery of the valves in the veins, which Harvey +learned while in Italy from his master, Fabricius ab Aquapendente, +the remaining step might easily have been made by +any person of common abilities. “This discovery,” he observes, +“set Harvey to work upon the <i>use</i> of the heart and +vascular system in animals; and in the <i>course of some years</i>, +he was so happy as to discover, and to prove beyond all +possibility of doubt, the circulation of the blood.” He afterwards +expresses his astonishment that this discovery should +have been left for Harvey, though he acknowledges it occupied +“a course of years;” adding that “Providence meant +to reserve it for <i>him</i>, and would not let men <i>see what was +before them, nor understand what they read</i>.” It is remarkable +that when great discoveries are effected, their simplicity +always seems to detract from their originality: on these occasions +we are reminded of the egg of Columbus!</p> + +<p>It is said that a recent discovery, which ascertains that +the Niger empties itself into the Atlantic Ocean, was really +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page413" id="page413"></a>413</span> +anticipated by the geographical acumen of a student at +Glasgow, who arrived at the same conclusion by a most persevering +investigation of the works of travellers and geographers, +ancient and modern, and by an examination of African +captives; and had actually constructed, for the inspection of +government, a map of Africa, on which he had traced the +entire course of the Niger from the interior.</p> + +<p>Franklin <i>conjectured</i> the identity of lightning and of electricity, +before he had <i>realised</i> it by decisive experiment. The +kite being raised, a considerable time elapsed before there was +any appearance of its being electrified. One very promising +cloud had passed over it without any effect. Just as he was +beginning to despair of his contrivance, he observed some +loose threads of the hempen string to stand erect, and to avoid +one another, just as if they had been suspended on a common +conductor. Struck with this promising appearance, he immediately +presented his knuckle to the key! And let the reader +judge of the exquisite pleasure he must have felt at that moment +when <i>the discovery was complete</i>! We owe to Priestley +this admirable narrative; the strong sensation of delight +which Franklin experienced as his knuckle touched the key, +and at the moment when he felt that a new world was opening, +might have been equalled, but it was probably not surpassed, +when the same hand signed the long-disputed independence +of his country!</p> + +<p>When Leibnitz was occupied in his philosophical reasonings +on his <i>Law of Continuity</i>, his singular sagacity enabled him +to predict a discovery which afterwards was realised—he +<i>imagined</i> the necessary existence of the polypus!</p> + +<p>It has been remarked of Newton, that several of his slight +hints, some in the modest form of queries, have been ascertained +to be predictions, and among others that of the +inflammability of the diamond; and many have been eagerly +seized upon as indisputable axioms. A hint at the close of +his Optics, that “If natural philosophy should be continued +to be improved in its various branches, the bounds of moral +philosophy would be enlarged also,” is perhaps among the +most important of human discoveries—it gave rise to Hartley’s +<i>Physiological Theory of the Mind</i>. The queries, the hints, +the conjectures of Newton, display the most creative sagacity; +and demonstrate in what manner the discoveries of retired +men, while they bequeath their legacies to the world, afford +to themselves a frequent source of secret and silent triumphs.</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_263" id="Footnote_263" href="#FnAnchor_263"><span class="fn">263</span></a> The remarkable clue to the reading of the hieroglyphic language of +ancient Egypt perfected in our own times is a striking instance of this; as +well as the investigations now proceeding in Babylonian inscriptions, which +promise to enable us to comprehend a language that was once considered as +hopelessly lost.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_264" id="Footnote_264" href="#FnAnchor_264"><span class="fn">264</span></a> The curious reader may view the marks, and the manner in which +the Greek characters were made out, in the preface to Hearne’s “Curious +Discourses.” The amethyst proved more difficult than the frieze, from the +circumstance, that in engraving on the stone the letters must be reversed.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page414" id="page414"></a>414</span></p> +<h3>SENTIMENTAL BIOGRAPHY.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">A periodical</span> critic, probably one of the juniors, has thrown +out a startling observation. “There is,” says this literary +senator, “something melancholy in the study of biography, +because it is—a history of the dead!” A truism and a +falsity mixed up together is the temptation with some modern +critics to commit that darling sin of theirs—novelty and +originality! But we really cannot condole with the readers +of Plutarch for their deep melancholy; we who feel our spirits +refreshed, amidst the mediocrity of society, when we are recalled +back to the men and the women who <span class="sc">were</span>! illustrious +in every glory! Biography with us is a re-union with human +existence in its most excellent state! and we find nothing +dead in the past, while we retain the sympathies which only +require to be awakened.</p> + +<p>It would have been more reasonable had the critic discovered +that our country has not yet had her Plutarch, and +that our biography remains still little more than a mass of +compilation.</p> + +<p>In this study of biography there is a species which has +not yet been distinguished—biographies composed by some +domestic friend, or by some enthusiast who works with love. +A term is unquestionably wanted for this distinct class. The +Germans seem to have invented a Platonic one, drawn from +the Greek, <i>psyche</i>, or the soul; for they call this the <i>psychological +life</i>. Another attempt has been made, by giving it the +scientific term of <i>idiosyncrasy</i>, to denote a peculiarity of +disposition. I would call it <i>sentimental biography</i>!</p> + +<p>It is distinct from a <i>chronological</i> biography, for it searches +for the individual’s feelings amidst the ascertained facts of his +life; so that facts, which occurred remotely from each other, +are here brought at once together. The detail of events +which completes the chronological biography, contains many +which are not connected with the peculiarity of the character +itself. The <i>sentimental</i> is also distinct from the <i>autobiography</i>, +however it may seem a part of it. Whether a man +be entitled to lavish his panegyric on himself, I will not +decide; but it is certain that he risks everything by appealing +to a solitary and suspected witness.</p> + +<p>We have two Lives of Dante, one by Boccaccio and the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page415" id="page415"></a>415</span> +other by Leonardo Aretino, both interesting: but Boccaccio’s +is the <i>sentimental life</i>!</p> + +<p>Aretino, indeed, finds fault, but with all the tenderness +possible, with Boccaccio’s affectionate sketch, <i>Origine, Vita, +Studi e Costumi del clarissimo Dante</i>, &c. “Origin, Life, +Studies and Manners, of the illustrious Dante,” &c. “It +seems to me,” he says, “that our Boccaccio, <i>dolcissimo e +suavissimo uomo</i>, sweet and delightful man! has written the +life and manners of this sublime poet as if he had been composing +the <i>Filocolo</i>, the <i>Filostrato</i>, or the <i>Fiametta</i>,” the +romances of Boccaccio—“for all breathes of love and sighs, +and is covered with warm tears, as if a man were born in this +world only to live among the enamoured ladies and the +gallant youths of the ten amorous days of his hundred +novels.”</p> + +<p>Aretino, who wanted not all the feeling requisite for the +delightful “costumi e studi” of Boccaccio’s Dante, modestly +requires that his own life of Dante should be considered as +a supplement to, not as a substitute for, Boccaccio’s. Pathetic +with all the sorrows, and eloquent with all the remonstrances +of a fellow-citizen, Boccaccio, while he wept, hung with anger +over his country’s shame in its apathy for the honour of its +long-injured exile. Catching inspiration from the breathing +pages of Boccaccio, it inclines one to wish that we possessed +two biographies of an illustrious favourite character; the one +strictly and fully historical, the other fraught with those very +feelings of the departed, which we may have to seek in vain +for in the circumstantial and chronological biographer. +Boccaccio, indeed, was overcome by his feelings. He either +knew not, or he omits the substantial incidents of Dante’s +life; while his imagination throws a romantic tinge on occurrences +raised on slight, perhaps on no foundation. Boccaccio +narrates a dream of the mother of Dante so fancifully poetical, +that probably Boccaccio forgot that none but a dreamer could +have told it. Seated under a high laurel-tree, by the side of +a vast fountain, the mother dreamt that she gave birth to her +son; she saw him nourished by its fruit, and refreshed by the +clear waters; she soon beheld him a shepherd; approaching +to pluck the boughs, she saw him fall! When he rose he +had ceased to be a man, and was transformed into a peacock! +Disturbed by her admiration, she suddenly awoke; but when +the father found that he really had a son, in allusion to the +dream he called him Dante—or <i>given! e meritamente</i>; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page416" id="page416"></a>416</span> +<i>perocché ottimamente, siccome si vedra procedendo, segui al +nome l’effetto</i>: “and deservedly! for greatly, as we shall see, +the effect followed the name!” At nine years of age, on a +May-day, whose joyous festival Boccaccio beautifully describes, +when the softness of the heavens, re-adorning the earth with +its mingled flowers, waved the green boughs, and made all +things smile, Dante mixed with the boys and girls in the +house of the good citizen who on that day gave the feast, beheld +little Bricè, as she was familiarly called, but named +Beatrice. The little Dante might have seen her before, but +he loved her then, and from that day never ceased to love; +and thus Dante <i>nella pargoletta età fatto d’amore ferventissimo +servidore</i>; so fervent a servant to love in an age of +childhood! Boccaccio appeals to Dante’s own account of his +long passion, and his constant sighs, in the <i>Vita Nuova</i>. No +look, no word, no sign, sullied the purity of his passion; but +in her twenty-fourth year died “la bellissima Beatrice.” +Dante is then described as more than inconsolable; his eyes +were long two abundant fountains of tears; careless of life, he +let his beard grow wildly, and to others appeared a savage +meagre man, whose aspect was so changed, that while this +weeping life lasted, he was hardly recognised by his friends; +all looked on a man so entirely transformed with deep +compassion. Dante, won over by those who could console +the inconsolable, was at length solicited by his relations to +marry a lady of his own condition in life; and it was suggested +that as the departed lady had occasioned him such heavy +griefs, the new one might open a source of delight. The +relations and friends of Dante gave him a wife that his tears +for Beatrice might cease.</p> + +<p>It is supposed that this marriage proved unhappy. Boccaccio, +like a pathetic lover rather than biographer, exclaims, +<i>Oh menti cicche! Oh tenebrosi intelletti! Oh argomenti vani +di molti mortali, quante sono le ruiscite in assai cose contrarie +a’ nostri avvisi!</i> &c. “Oh blind men! Oh dark minds! Oh +vain arguments of most mortals, how often are the results +contrary to our advice! Frequently it is like leading one +who breathes the soft air of Italy to refresh himself in the +eternal shades of the Rhodopean mountains. What physician +would expel a burning fever with fire, or put in the shivering +marrow of the bones snow and ice? So certainly shall it fare +with him who, with a new love, thinks to mitigate the old. +Those who believe this know not the nature of love, nor how +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page417" id="page417"></a>417</span> +much a second passion adds to the first. In vain would we +assist or advise this forceful passion, if it has struck its root +near the heart of him who long has loved.”</p> + +<p>Boccaccio has beguiled my pen for half-an-hour with all +the loves and fancies which sprung out of his own affectionate +and romantic heart. What airy stuff has he woven into the +“Vita” of Dante! this <i>sentimental biography</i>! Whether +he knew but little of the personal history of the great man +whom he idolised, or whether the dream of the mother—the +May-day interview with the little Bricè, and the rest of the +children—and the effusion on Dante’s marriage, were grounded +on tradition, one would not harshly reject such tender incidents.<a name="FnAnchor_265" id="FnAnchor_265" href="#Footnote_265"><span class="sp">265</span></a> +But let it not be imagined that the heart of +Boccaccio was only susceptible to amorous impressions—bursts +of enthusiasm and eloquence, which only a man of +genius is worthy of receiving, and only a man of genius is +capable of bestowing—kindle the masculine patriotism of his +bold, indignant spirit!</p> + +<p>Half a century had elapsed since the death of Dante, and +still the Florentines showed no sign of repentance for their +ancient hatred of their persecuted patriot, nor any sense of +the memory of the creator of their language, whose immortality +had become a portion of their own glory. Boccaccio, +impassioned by all his generous nature, though he regrets he +could not raise a statue to Dante, has sent down to posterity +more than marble, in the “Life.” I venture to give the lofty +and bold apostrophe to his fellow-citizens; but I feel that even +the genius of our language is tame by the side of the harmonised +eloquence of the great votary of Dante!</p> + +<p>“Ungrateful country! what madness urged thee, when thy +dearest citizen, thy chief benefactor, thy only poet, with unaccustomed +cruelty was driven to flight! If this had +happened in the general terror of that time, coming from evil +counsels, thou mightest stand excused; but when the passion +ceased, didst thou repent? didst thou recall him? Bear with +me, nor deem it irksome from me, who am thy son, that thus +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page418" id="page418"></a>418</span> +I collect what just indignation prompts me to speak, as a man +more desirous of witnessing your amendment, than of +beholding you punished! Seems it to you glorious, proud of +so many titles and of such men, that the one whose like no +neighbouring city can show, you have chosen to chase from +among you? With what triumphs, with what valorous citizens, +are you splendid? Your wealth is a removable and +uncertain thing; your fragile beauty will grow old; your +delicacy is shameful and feminine; but these make you +noticed by the false judgments of the populace! Do you +glory in your merchants and your artists? I speak imprudently; +but the one are tenaciously avaricious in their +servile trade; and Art, which once was so noble, and became +a second nature, struck by the same avarice, is now as corrupted, +and nothing worth! Do you glory in the baseness +and the listlessness of those idlers, who, because their +ancestors are remembered, attempt to raise up among you a +nobility to govern you, ever by robbery, by treachery, by +falsehood! Ah! miserable mother! open thine eyes; cast +them with some remorse on what thou hast done, and blush, +at least, reputed wise as thou art, to have had in your errors +so fatal a choice! Why not rather imitate the acts of those +cities who so keenly disputed merely for the honour of the +birth-place of the divine Homer? Mantua, our neighbour, +counts as the greatest fame which remains for her, that Virgil +was a Mantuan! and holds his very name in such reverence, that +not only in public places, but in the most private, we see his +sculptured image! You only, while you were made famous +by illustrious men, you only have shown no care for your +great poet. Your Dante Alighieri died in exile, to which you +unjustly, envious of his greatness, destined him! A crime +not to be remembered, that the mother should bear an +envious malignity to the virtues of a son! Now cease to be +unjust! He cannot do you that, now dead, which living he +never did do to you! He lies under another sky than yours, +and you never can see him again, but on that day, when all +your citizens shall view him, and the great Remunerator +shall examine, and shall punish! If anger, hatred, and +enmity are buried with a man, as it is believed, begin then to +return to yourself; begin to be ashamed to have acted against +your ancient humanity; begin, then, to wish to appear a mother, +and not a cold negligent step-dame. Yield your tears to your +son; yield your maternal piety to him whom once you repulsed, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page419" id="page419"></a>419</span> +and, living, cast away from you! At least think of +possessing him dead, and restore your citizenship, your +award, and your grace, to his memory. He was a son who +held you in reverence, and though long an exile, he always +called himself, and would be called a Florentine! He held +you ever above all others; ever he loved you! What will +you then do? Will you remain obstinate in iniquity? Will +you practise less humanity than the barbarians? You wish +that the world should believe that you are the sister of +famous Troy, and the daughter of Rome; assuredly the +children should resemble their fathers and their ancestors. +Priam, in his misery, bought the corpse of Hector with gold; +and Rome would possess the bones of the first Scipio, and +removed them from Linternum, those bones, which, dying, so +justly he had denied her. Seek then to be the true guardian +of your Dante, claim him! show this humane feeling, claim +him! you may securely do this: I am certain he will not be +returned to you; but thus at once you may betray some +mark of compassion, and, not having him again, still enjoy +your ancient cruelty! Alas! what comfort am I bringing +you! I almost believe, that if the dead could feel, the body +of Dante would not rise to return to you, for he is lying in +Ravenna, whose hallowed soil is everywhere covered with the +ashes of saints. Would Dante quit this blessed company to +mingle with the remains of those hatreds and iniquities which +gave him no rest in life? The relics of Dante, even among +the bodies of emperors and of martyrs, and of their illustrious +ancestors, is prized as a treasure, for there his works +are looked on with admiration; those works of which you +have not yet known to make yourselves worthy. His birthplace, +his origin remains for you, spite of your ingratitude! +and this Ravenna envies you, while she glories in your +honours which she has snatched from you through ages yet +to come!”</p> + +<p>Such was the deep emotion which opened Boccaccio’s heart +in this sentimental biography, and which awoke even shame +and confusion in the minds of the Florentines; they blushed +for their old hatreds, and, with awakened sympathies, they +hastened to honour the memory of their great bard. By +order of the city, the <i>Divina Commedia</i> was publicly read and +explained to the people. Boccaccio, then sinking under the +infirmities of age, roused his departing genius: still was there +marrow in the bones of the aged lion, and he engaged in the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page420" id="page420"></a>420</span> +task of composing his celebrated Commentaries on the <i>Divina +Commedia</i>.</p> + +<p>In this class of <i>sentimental biography</i> I would place a species +which the historian Carte noticed in his literary travels on the +Continent, in pursuit of his historical design. He found, preserved +among several ancient families of France, their +domestic annals. “With a warm, patriotic spirit, worthy of +imitation, they have often carefully preserved in their families +the acts of their ancestors.” This delight and pride of the +modern Gauls in the great and good deeds of their ancestors, +preserved in domestic archives, will be ascribed to their folly +or their vanity; yet in that folly there may be so much +wisdom, and in that vanity there may be so much greatness, +that the one will amply redeem the other.</p> + +<p>This custom has been rarely adopted among ourselves; we +have, however, a few separate histories of some ancient +families, as those of Mordaunt, and of Warren. One of the +most remarkable is “A Genealogical History of the House +of Yvery, in its different branches of Yvery, Luvel, Perceval, +and Gournay.” Two large volumes, closely printed,<a name="FnAnchor_266" id="FnAnchor_266" href="#Footnote_266"><span class="sp">266</span></a> expatiating +on the characters and events of a single family with +the grave pomp of a herald, but more particularly the idolatry +of the writer for ancient nobility, and his contempt for that +growing rank in society whom he designates as “New Men,” +provoked the ridicule at least of the aspersed.<a name="FnAnchor_267" id="FnAnchor_267" href="#Footnote_267"><span class="sp">267</span></a> This extraordinary +work, notwithstanding its absurdities in its general +result, has left behind a deep impression. Drawn from the +authentic family records, it is not without interest that we toil +through its copious pages; we trace with a romantic sympathy +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page421" id="page421"></a>421</span> +the fortunes of the descendants of the House of Yvery, +from that not-forgotten hero <i>le vaillant Perceval chevalier de +la Table Ronde</i>, to the Norman Baron Asselin, surnamed the +Wolf, for his bravery or his ferocity; thence to the Cavalier +of Charles the First, Sir Philip Perceval, who, having +gloriously defended his castle, was at length deprived of his +lordly possessions, but never of his loyalty, and died obscurely +in the metropolis of a broken heart, till we reach the polished +nobleman, the Lord Egmont of the Georges.</p> + +<p>The nation has lost many a noble example of men and +women acting a great part on great occasions, and then retreating +to the shade of privacy; and we may be confident that +many a name has not been inscribed on the roll of national +glory only from wanting a few drops of ink! Such domestic +annals may yet be viewed in the family records at Appleby +Castle! Anne, Countess of Pembroke, was a glorious woman, +the descendant of two potent northern families, the Veteriponts +and the Cliffords.—She lived in a state of regal magnificence +and independence, inhabiting five or seven castles; +yet though her magnificent spirit poured itself out in her extended +charities, and though her independence mated that of +monarchs, yet she herself, in her domestic habits, lived as a +hermit in her own castles; and though only acquainted with +her native language, she had cultivated her mind in many +parts of learning; and as Donne, in his way, observes, “she +knew how to converse of everything, from predestination to +slea-silk.” Her favourite design was to have materials collected +for the history of those two potent northern families +to whom she was allied; and at a considerable expense she +employed learned persons to make collections for this purpose +from the records in the Tower, the Rolls, and other +depositories of manuscripts: Gilpin had seen three large +volumes fairly transcribed. Anecdotes of a great variety of +characters, who had exerted themselves on very important +occasions, compose these family records—and induce one to +wish that the public were in possession of such annals of the +domestic life of heroes and of sages, who have only failed in +obtaining an historian!<a name="FnAnchor_268" id="FnAnchor_268" href="#Footnote_268"><span class="sp">268</span></a></p> + +<p>A biographical monument of this nature, which has passed +through the press, will sufficiently prove the utility of this +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page422" id="page422"></a>422</span> +class of <i>sentimental biography</i>. It is the Life of Robert Price, +a Welsh lawyer, and an ancestor of the gentleman whose ingenuity, +in our days, has refined the principles of the Picturesque +in Art. This Life is announced as “printed by the +appointment of the family;” but it must not be considered +merely as a tribute of private affection; and how we are at this +day interested in the actions of a Welsh lawyer in the reign +of William the Third, whose name has probably never been +consigned to the page of history, remains to be told.</p> + +<p>Robert Price, after having served Charles the Second, lived +latterly in the eventful times of William the Third—he was +probably of Tory principles, for on the arrival of the Dutch +prince he was removed from the attorney-generalship of +Glamorgan. The new monarch has been accused of favouritism, +and of an eagerness in showering exorbitant grants on +some of his foreigners, which soon raised a formidable opposition +in the jealous spirit of Englishmen. The grand +favourite, William Bentinck, after being raised to the Earldom +of Portland, had a grant bestowed on him of three +lordships in the county of Denbigh. The patriot of his +native country—a title which the Welsh had already conferred +on Robert Price—then rose to assert the rights of his +fatherland, and his speeches are as admirable for their knowledge +as their spirit. “The submitting of 1500 freeholders +to the will of a Dutch lord was,” as he sarcastically declared, +“putting them in a worse posture than their former estate, +when under William the Conqueror and his Norman lords. +England must not be tributary to strangers—we must, like +patriots, stand by our country—otherwise, when God shall +send us a Prince of Wales, he may have such a present of a +crown made him as a Pope did to King John, who was surnamed +<i>Sans-terre</i>, and was by his father made Lord of +Ireland, which grant was confirmed by the Pope, who sent +him a crown of peacocks’ feathers, in derogation of his power, +and the poverty of his country.” Robert Price asserted that +the king could not, by the Bill of Rights, alien or give away +the inheritance of a Prince of Wales without the consent of +parliament. He concluded a copious and patriotic speech, by +proposing that an address be presented to the king, to put an +immediate stop to the grant now passing to the Earl of Portland +for the lordships, &c.</p> + +<p>This speech produced such an effect, that the address was +carried unanimously; and the king, though he highly resented +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page423" id="page423"></a>423</span> +the speech of Robert Price, sent a civil message to the commons, +declaring that he should not have given Lord Portland +those lands, had he imagined the House of Commons could +have been concerned; “I will therefore recall the grant!” +On receiving the royal message, Robert Price drew up a resolution +to which the house assented, that “to procure or pass +exorbitant grants by any member of the privy council, &c. +was a high crime and misdemeanour.” The speech of Robert +Price contained truths too numerous and too bold to suffer +the light during that reign; but this speech against foreigners +was printed the year after King William’s death, with this +title, “<i>Gloria Cambriæ</i>, or the speech of a bold Briton in +parliament, against a Dutch Prince of Wales,” with this +motto, <i>Opposuit et Vicit</i>. Such was the great character of +Robert Price, that he was made a Welsh judge by the very +sovereign whose favourite plans he had so patriotically +thwarted.</p> + +<p>Another marked event in the life of this English patriot +was a second noble stand he made against the royal authority, +when in opposition to the public good. The secret history of +a quarrel between George the First and the Prince of Wales, +afterwards George the Second, on the birth of a son, appears +in this life; and when the prince in disgrace left the palace, +his royal highness proposed taking his children and the +princess with him; but the king detained the children, claiming +the care of the royal offspring as a royal prerogative. It +now became a legal point to ascertain “whether the education +of his majesty’s grandchildren, and the care of their +marriages, &c., belonged of right to his majesty as king of +this realm, or not?” Ten of the judges obsequiously allowed +of the prerogative to the full. Robert Price and another +judge decided that the education, &c., was the right of the +father, although the marriages was that of his majesty as +king of this realm, yet not exclusive of the prince, their +father. He assured the king, that the ten obsequious judges +had no authority to support their precipitate opinion; all the +books and precedents cannot form a prerogative for the king +of this realm to have the care and education of his grandchildren +during the life and without the consent of their +father—a prerogative unknown to the laws of England! +He pleads for the rights of a father, with the spirit of one +who feels them, as well as with legal science and historical +knowledge.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page424" id="page424"></a>424</span></p> + +<p>Such were the two great incidents in the life of this +Welsh judge! Yet, had the family not found one to commemorate +these memorable events in the life of their ancestor, +we had lost the noble picture of a constitutional interpreter +of the laws, an independent country gentleman, and an +Englishman jealous of the excessive predominance of ministerial +or royal influence.</p> + +<p>Cicero, and others, have informed us that the ancient history +of Rome itself was composed out of such accounts of +private families, to which, indeed, we must add those annals +or registers of public events which unquestionably were preserved +in the archives of the temples by the priests. But +the history of the individual may involve public interest, +whenever the skill of the writer combines with the importance +of the event. Messala, the orator, gloried in having +composed many volumes of the genealogies of the nobility +of Rome; and Atticus wrote the genealogy of Brutus, to +prove him descended from Junius Brutus, the expulser of the +Tarquins, and founder of the Republic, near five hundred +years before.</p> + +<p>Another class of this <i>sentimental biography</i> was projected +by the late Elizabeth Hamilton. This was to have consisted +of a series of what she called <i>comparative biography</i>, and an +ancient character was to have been paralleled by a modern +one. Occupied by her historical romance with the character +of <i>Agrippina</i>, she sought in modern history for a partner of +her own sex, and “one who, like her, had experienced vicissitudes +of fortune;” and she found no one better qualified +than the princess palatine, <i>Elizabeth, the daughter of James +the First</i>. Her next life was to have been that of <i>Seneca</i>, +with “the scenes and persons of which her Life of Agrippina +had familiarised her;” and the contrast or the parallel was +to have been <i>Locke</i>; which, well managed, she thought +would have been sufficiently striking. It seems to me that +it would rather have afforded an evidence of her invention! +Such a biographical project reminds one of Plutarch’s Parallels, +and might incur the danger of displaying more ingenuity +than truth. The sage of Cheronea must often have racked +his invention to help out his parallels, bending together, to +make them similar, the most unconnected events and the most +distinct feelings; and, to keep his parallels in two straight +lines, he probably made a free use of augmentatives and diminutives +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page425" id="page425"></a>425</span> +to help out his pair, who might have been equal, +and yet not alike!</p> + +<p>Our fatherland is prodigal of immortal names, or names +which might be made immortal; Gibbon once contemplated +with complacency, the very ideal of <span class="scs">SENTIMENTAL BIOGRAPHY</span>, +and we may regret that he has only left the project! “I +have long revolved in my mind a volume of biographical +writing; the lives or rather the characters of the most eminent +persons in arts and arms, in church and state, who have +flourished in Britain from the reign of Henry the Eighth to +the present age. The subject would afford a rich display of +human nature and domestic history, and powerfully address +itself to the feelings of every Englishman.”</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_265" id="Footnote_265" href="#FnAnchor_265"><span class="fn">265</span></a> “A Comment on the Divine Comedy of Dante,” in English, printed in +Italy, has just reached me. I am delighted to find that this biography of +Love, however romantic, is true! In his <i>ninth year</i>, Dante was a lover +and a poet! The tender sonnet, free from all obscurity, which he composed +on Beatrice, is preserved in the above singular volume. There can +be no longer any doubt of the story of Beatrice; but the sonnet and the +passion must be “classed among curious natural phenomena,” or how far +apocryphal, remains for future inquiry.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_266" id="Footnote_266" href="#FnAnchor_266"><span class="fn">266</span></a> This work was published in 1742, and the scarcity of these volumes +was felt in Granger’s day, for they obtained then the considerable price of +four guineas; some time ago a fine copy was sold for thirty at a sale, and +a cheap copy was offered to me at twelve guineas. These volumes should +contain seventeen portraits. The first was written by Mr. Anderson, who, +dying before the second appeared, Lord Egmont, from the materials Anderson +had left, concluded his family history—<i>con amore</i>.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_267" id="Footnote_267" href="#FnAnchor_267"><span class="fn">267</span></a> Mr. Anderson, the writer of the first volume, was a feudal enthusiast; +he has thrown out an odd notion that the commercial, or the +wealthy class, had intruded on the dignity of the ancient nobility; but as +wealth has raised such high prices for labour, commodities, &c., it had +reached its <i>ne plus ultra</i>, and commerce could be carried on no longer! +He has ventured on this amusing prediction, “As it is therefore evident +that <span class="sc">new men</span> <i>will never rise again in any age with such advantages of +wealth</i>, at least in considerable numbers, their <i>party</i> will gradually decrease.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_268" id="Footnote_268" href="#FnAnchor_268"><span class="fn">268</span></a> Much curious matter about the old Countess of Westmoreland and her +seven castles may be found in Whitaker’s History of Craven, and in Pennant.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>LITERARY PARALLELS.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">An</span> opinion on this subject in the preceding article has led me +to a further investigation. It may be right to acknowledge +that so attractive is this critical and moral amusement of +comparing great characters with one another, that, among +others, Bishop Hurd once proposed to write <i>a book of +Parallels</i>, and has furnished a specimen in that of Petrarch +and Rousseau, and intended for another that of Erasmus +with Cicero. It is amusing to observe how a lively and +subtle mind can strike out resemblances, and make contraries +accord, and at the same time it may show the pinching difficulties +through which a parallel is pushed, till it ends in a +paradox.</p> + +<p>Hurd says of Petrarch and Rousseau—“Both were impelled +by an equal enthusiasm, though directed towards different +objects: Petrarch’s towards the glory of the Roman name, +Rousseau’s towards his idol of a state of nature; the one +religious, the other <i>un esprit fort</i>; but may not Petrarch’s +spite to Babylon be considered, in his time, as a species of +free-thinking”—and concludes, that “both were mad, but of +a different nature.” Unquestionably there were features +much alike, and almost peculiar to these two literary characters; +but I doubt if Hurd has comprehended them in the +parallel.</p> + +<p>I now give a specimen of those parallels which have done +so much mischief in the literary world, when drawn by a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page426" id="page426"></a>426</span> +hand which covertly leans on one side. An elaborate one of +this sort was composed by Longolius or Longuel, between +Budæus and Erasmus.<a name="FnAnchor_269" id="FnAnchor_269" href="#Footnote_269"><span class="sp">269</span></a> This man, though of Dutch origin, +affected to pass for a Frenchman, and, to pay his court to his +chosen people, gives the preference obliquely to the French +Budæus; though, to make a show of impartiality, he acknowledges +that Francis the First had awarded it to Erasmus; but +probably he did not infer that kings were the most able +reviewers! This parallel was sent forth during the lifetime +of both these great scholars, who had long been correspondents, +but the publication of the parallel interrupted their +friendly intercourse. Erasmus returned his compliments and +thanks to Longolius, but at the same time insinuates a gentle +hint that he was not overpleased. “What pleases me most,” +Erasmus writes, “is the just preference you have given +Budæus over me; I confess you are even too economical in +your praise of him, as you are too prodigal in mine. I thank +you for informing me what it is the learned desire to find in +me; my self-love suggests many little excuses, with which, you +observe, I am apt <i>to favour my defects</i>. If I am careless, it +arises partly from my ignorance, and more from my indolence; +I am so constituted, that I cannot conquer my nature; I precipitate +rather than compose, and it is far more irksome for +me to revise than to write.”</p> + +<p>This parallel between Erasmus and Budæus, though the +parallel itself was not of a malignant nature, yet disturbed +the quiet, and interrupted the friendship of both. When +Longolius discovered that the Parisian surpassed the Hollander +in Greek literature and the knowledge of the civil law, +and worked more learnedly and laboriously, how did this detract +from the finer genius and the varied erudition of the +more delightful writer? The parallelist compares Erasmus to +“a river swelling its waters, and often overflowing its banks; +Budæus rolled on like a majestic stream, ever restraining its +waves within its bed. The Frenchman has more nerve, and +blood, and life, and the Hollander more fulness, freshness, and +colour.”</p> + +<p>The taste for <i>biographical parallels</i> must have reached us +from Plutarch; and there is something malicious in our +nature which inclines us to form <i>comparative estimates</i>, +usually with a view to elevate one great man at the cost of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page427" id="page427"></a>427</span> +another, whom we would secretly depreciate. Our political +parties at home have often indulged in these fallacious parallels, +and Pitt and Fox once balanced the scales, not by the +standard weights and measures which ought to have been +used, but by the adroitness of the hand that pressed down +the scale. In literature, these comparative estimates have +proved most prejudicial. A finer model exists not than the +<i>parallel of Dryden and Pope</i>, by Johnson; for, without designing +any undue preference, his vigorous judgment has analysed +them by his contrasts, and has rather shown their distinctness +than their similarity. But literary <i>parallels</i> usually end in +producing <i>parties</i>; and, as I have elsewhere observed, often +originate in undervaluing one man of genius, for his deficiency +in some eminent quality possessed by the other man of +genius; they not unfrequently proceed from adverse tastes, +and are formed with the concealed design of establishing some +favourite one. The world of literature has been deeply infected +with this folly. Virgil probably was often vexed in his +days by a parallel with Homer, and the <i>Homerians</i> combated +with the <i>Virgilians</i>. Modern Italy was long divided into +such literary sects: a perpetual skirmishing is carried on between +the <i>Ariostoists</i> and the <i>Tassoists</i>; and feuds as dire as +those between two Highland clans were raised concerning the +<i>Petrarchists</i>, and the <i>Chiabrerists</i>. Old <i>Corneille</i> lived to +bow his venerable genius before a parallel with <i>Racine</i>; and +no one has suffered more unjustly by such arbitrary criticisms +than <i>Pope</i>, for a strange unnatural civil war has often been +renewed between the <i>Drydenists</i> and the <i>Popeists</i>. Two men +of great genius should never be depreciated by the misapplied +ingenuity of a parallel; on such occasions we ought to conclude +<i>magis pares quam similes</i>.</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_269" id="Footnote_269" href="#FnAnchor_269"><span class="fn">269</span></a> It is noticed by Jortin in his Life of Erasmus, vol. i. p. 160.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>THE PEARL BIBLES AND SIX THOUSAND ERRATA.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">As</span> a literary curiosity, I notice a subject which might +rather enter into the history of religion. It relates to the +extraordinary state of our English Bibles, which were for +some time suffered to be so corrupted that no books ever yet +swarmed with such innumerable errata!</p> + +<p>These errata unquestionably were in great part voluntary +commissions, passages interpolated, and meanings forged for +certain purposes; sometimes to sanction the new creed of a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page428" id="page428"></a>428</span> +half-hatched sect, and sometimes with an intention to destroy +all scriptural authority by a confusion, or an omission of texts—the +whole was left open to the option or the malignity of +the editors, who, probably, like certain ingenious wine-merchants, +contrived to accommodate “the waters of life” to +their customers’ peculiar taste. They had also a project of +printing Bibles as cheaply and in a form as contracted as they +possibly could for the common people; and they proceeded +till it nearly ended with having no Bible at all: and, as +Fuller, in his “Mixt Contemplations on Better Times,” +alluding to this circumstance, with not one of his lucky quibbles, +observes, “The <i>small price</i> of the Bible has caused the <i>small +prizing</i> of the Bible.”</p> + +<p>This extraordinary attempt on the English Bible began +even before Charles the First’s dethronement, and probably +arose from an unusual demand for Bibles, as the sectarian +fanaticism was increasing. Printing of English Bibles was +an article of open trade; every one printed at the lowest price, +and as fast as their presses would allow. Even those who +were dignified as “his Majesty’s Printers” were among these +manufacturers; for we have an account of a scandalous omission +by them of the important negative in the seventh commandment! +The printers were summoned before the Court +of High Commission, and this <i>not</i> served to bind them in a +fine of three thousand pounds! A prior circumstance, indeed, +had occurred, which induced the government to be more vigilant +on the Biblical Press. The learned Usher, one day hastening +to preach at Paul’s Cross, entered the shop of one of the +stationers, as booksellers were then called, and inquiring for a +Bible of the London edition, when he came to look for his +text, to his astonishment and horror he discovered that the +verse was omitted in the Bible! This gave the first occasion +of complaint to the king of the insufferable negligence and +incapacity of the London press: and, says the manuscript +writer of this anecdote, first bred that great contest which +followed, between the University of Cambridge and the London +stationers, about the right of printing Bibles.<a name="FnAnchor_270" id="FnAnchor_270" href="#Footnote_270"><span class="sp">270</span></a></p> + +<p>The secret bibliographical history of these times would +show the extraordinary state of the press in this new trade of +Bibles. The writer of a curious pamphlet exposes the combination +of those called the king’s printers, with their contrivances +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page429" id="page429"></a>429</span> +to keep up the prices of Bibles; their correspondence +with the booksellers of Scotland and Dublin, by which means +they retained the privilege in their own hands: the king’s +<i>London</i> printers got Bibles printed cheaper at Edinburgh. +In 1629, when folio Bibles were wanted, the Cambridge +printers sold them at ten shillings in quires; on this the +Londoners set six printing-houses at work, and, to annihilate +the Cambridgians, printed a similar <i>folio</i> Bible, but sold with +it five hundred <i>quarto</i> Roman Bibles, and five hundred <i>quarto</i> +English, at five shillings a book; which proved the ruin of +the folio Bibles, by keeping them down under the cost price. +Another competition arose among those who printed English +Bibles in Holland, in <i>duodecimo</i>, with an English +colophon, for half the price even of the lowest in London. +Twelve thousand of these <i>duodecimo</i> Bibles, with notes, fabricated +in Holland, usually by our fugitive sectarians, were +seized by the king’s printers, as contrary to the statute.<a name="FnAnchor_271" id="FnAnchor_271" href="#Footnote_271"><span class="sp">271</span></a> +Such was this shameful war of Bibles—folios, quartos, and +duodecimos, even in the days of Charles the First. The +public spirit of the rising sects was the real occasion of these +increased demands for Bibles.</p> + +<p>During the civil wars they carried on the same open trade +and competition, besides the private ventures of the smuggled +Bibles. A large impression of these Dutch English Bibles +were burnt by order of the Assembly of Divines, for these +<i>three errors</i>:—</p> + +<p>Gen. xxxvi. 24.—This is that <i>ass</i> that found rulers in the +wilderness—for <i>mule</i>.</p> + +<p>Ruth iv. 13.—The Lord gave her <i>corruption</i>—for <i>conception</i>.</p> + +<p>Luke xxi. 28.—Look up, and lift up your hands, for your +<i>condemnation</i> draweth nigh—for <i>redemption</i>.</p> + +<p>These errata were none of the printer’s; but, as a writer +of the times expresses it, “egregious blasphemies, and damnable +errata” of some sectarian, or some Bellamy editor of +that day!</p> + +<p>The printing of Bibles at length was a privilege conceded +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page430" id="page430"></a>430</span> +to one William Bentley; but he was opposed by Hills and +Field; and a paper war arose, in which they mutually +recriminated on each other, with equal truth.</p> + +<p>Field printed, in 1653, what was called the Pearl Bible; +alluding, I suppose, to that diminutive type in printing, for +it could not derive its name from its worth. It is in twenty-fours;<a name="FnAnchor_272" id="FnAnchor_272" href="#Footnote_272"><span class="sp">272</span></a> +but to contract the mighty book into this dwarfishness, +all the original Hebrew text prefixed to the Psalms, explaining +the occasion and the subject of their composition, is +wholly expunged. This Pearl Bible, which may be inspected +among the great collection of our English Bibles at the +British Museum, is set off by many notable <i>errata</i>, of which +these are noticed:—</p> + +<p>Romans vi. 13.—Neither yield ye your members as instruments +of <i>righteousness</i> unto sin—for <i>unrighteousness</i>.</p> + +<p>First Corinthians vi. 9.—Know ye not that the unrighteous +<i>shall inherit</i> the kingdom of God?—for <i>shall not +inherit</i>.</p> + +<p>This <i>erratum</i> served as the foundation of a dangerous +doctrine; for many libertines urged the text from this corrupt +Bible against the reproofs of a divine.</p> + +<p>This Field was a great forger; and it is said that he +received a present of 1500<i>l.</i> from the <i>Independents</i> to corrupt +a text in Acts vi. 3, to sanction the right of the people +to appoint their own pastors.<a name="FnAnchor_273" id="FnAnchor_273" href="#Footnote_273"><span class="sp">273</span></a> The corruption was the +easiest possible; it was only to put a <i>ye</i> instead of a <i>we</i>; so +that the right in Field’s Bible emanated from the people, +not from the apostles. The only account I recollect of this +extraordinary state of our Bibles is a happy allusion in a line +of Butler:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Religion spawn’d a various rout,</p> +<p>Of petulant, capricious sects,</p> +<p><span class="sc">The maggots of corrupted texts</span>.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>In other Bibles by Hills and Field we may find such abundant +errata, reducing the text to nonsense or to blasphemy, +making the Scriptures contemptible to the multitude, who +came to pray, and not to scoff.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page431" id="page431"></a>431</span></p> + +<p>It is affirmed, in the manuscript account already referred +to, that one Bible swarmed with <i>six thousand faults</i>! Indeed, +from another source we discover that “Sterne, a solid scholar, +was the first who summed up the <i>three thousand and six +hundred</i> faults that were in our printed Bibles of London.”<a name="FnAnchor_274" id="FnAnchor_274" href="#Footnote_274"><span class="sp">274</span></a> +If one book can be made to contain near four thousand errors, +little ingenuity was required to reach to six thousand; but +perhaps this is the first time so remarkable an incident in the +history of literature has ever been chronicled. And that +famous edition of the Vulgate, by Pope Sixtus the Fifth, a +memorable book of blunders, which commands such high +prices, ought now to fall in value, before the pearl Bible, in +twenty-fours, of Messrs. Hills and Field!</p> + +<p>Mr. Field and his worthy coadjutor seem to have carried +the favour of the reigning powers over their opponents; for I +find a piece of their secret history. They engaged to pay +500<i>l.</i> per annum to some, “whose names I forbear to mention,” +warily observes the manuscript writer; and above 100<i>l.</i> +per annum to Mr. <i>Marchmont Needham and his wife</i>, out of +the profits of the sales of their Bibles; deriding, insulting, +and triumphing over others, out of their confidence in their +great friends and purse, as if they were lawless and free, both +from offence and punishment.<a name="FnAnchor_275" id="FnAnchor_275" href="#Footnote_275"><span class="sp">275</span></a> This Marchmont Needham +is sufficiently notorious, and his secret history is probably +true; for in a Mercurius Politicus of this unprincipled +Cobbett of his day, I found an elaborate puff of an edition +published by the annuity-granter to this worthy and his +wife!</p> + +<p>Not only had the Bible to suffer these indignities of size +and price, but the Prayer-book was once printed in an +illegible and worn-out type; on which the printer being +complained of, he stoutly replied, that “it was as good as +the price afforded; and being a book which all persons +ought to have by heart, it was no matter whether it was +read or not, so that it was worn out in their hands.” The +puritans seem not to have been so nice about the source of +purity itself.</p> + +<p>These hand-bibles of the sectarists, with their six thousand +errata, like the false Duessa, covered their crafty deformity +with a fair raiment; for when the great Selden, in the +assembly of divines, delighted to confute them in their own +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page432" id="page432"></a>432</span> +learning, he would say, as Whitelock reports, when they had +cited a text to prove their assertion, “Perhaps in your little +pocket-bible with gilt leaves,” which they would often pull +out and read, “the translation may be so, but the Greek or +the Hebrew signifies this.”</p> + +<p>While these transactions were occurring, it appears that +the authentic translation of the Bible, such as we now have +it, by the learned translators in James the First’s time, was +suffered to lie neglected. The copies of the original manuscript +were in the possession of two of the king’s printers, +who, from cowardice, consent, and connivance, suppressed +the publication; considering that the Bible full of errata, +and often, probably, accommodated to the notions of certain +sectarists, was more valuable than one authenticated by +the hierarchy! Such was the state of the English Bible +till 1660!<a name="FnAnchor_276" id="FnAnchor_276" href="#Footnote_276"><span class="sp">276</span></a></p> + +<p>The proverbial expression of <i>chapter and verse</i> seems peculiar +to ourselves, and, I suspect, originated in the puritanic +period, probably just before the civil wars under Charles the +First, from the frequent use of appealing to the Bible on the +most frivolous occasions, practised by those whom South calls +“those mighty men at <i>chapter and verse</i>.” With a sort of +religious coquetry, they were vain of perpetually opening +their gilt pocket Bibles; they perked them up with such +self-sufficiency and perfect ignorance of the original, that the +learned Selden found considerable amusement in going to +their “assembly of divines,” and puzzling or confuting them, +as we have noticed. A ludicrous anecdote on one of these +occasions is given by a contemporary, which shows how +admirably that learned man amused himself with this +“assembly of divines!” They were discussing the distance +between Jerusalem and Jericho, with a perfect ignorance of +sacred or of ancient geography; one said it was twenty miles, +another ten, and at last it was concluded to be only seven, +for this strange reason, that fish was brought from Jericho +to Jerusalem market! Selden observed, that “possibly the +fish in question was salted,” and silenced these acute disputants.</p> + +<p>It would probably have greatly discomposed these “chapter +and verse” men to have informed them that the Scriptures +had neither chapter nor verse! It is by no means clear how +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page433" id="page433"></a>433</span> +the holy writings were anciently divided, and still less how +quoted or referred to. The honour of the invention of the +present arrangement of the Scriptures is ascribed to Robert +Stephens, by his son, in the preface to his Concordance, a +task which he performed during a journey on horseback from +Paris to London, in 1551; and whether it was done as Yorick +would in his Shandean manner lounging on his mule, or at +his intermediate baits, he has received all possible thanks for +this employment of his time. Two years afterwards he concluded +with the Bible. But that the honour of every invention +may be disputed, Sanctus Pagninus’s Bible, printed at +Lyons in 1527, seems to have led the way to these convenient +divisions; Stephens, however, improved on Pagninus’s mode +of paragraphical marks and marginal verses; and our present +“chapter and verse,” more numerous and more commodiously +numbered, were the project of this learned printer, to <i>recommend +his edition of the Bible</i>; trade and learning were once +combined! Whether in this arrangement any disturbance of +the continuity of the text has followed, is a subject not fitted +for my inquiry.</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_270" id="Footnote_270" href="#FnAnchor_270"><span class="fn">270</span></a> Harl. MS. 6395.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_271" id="Footnote_271" href="#FnAnchor_271"><span class="fn">271</span></a> “Scintilla, or a light broken into darke Warehouses; of some +Printers, sleeping Stationers, and combining Booksellers; in which is only +a touch of their forestalling and ingrossing of Books in Pattents, and raysing +them to excessive prises. Left to the consideration of the high and +honourable House of Parliament, now assembled. London: Nowhere to +be sold, but somewhere to be given.” 1641.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_272" id="Footnote_272" href="#FnAnchor_272"><span class="fn">272</span></a> A technical printing-term for a sheet containing twenty-four pages.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_273" id="Footnote_273" href="#FnAnchor_273"><span class="fn">273</span></a> The passage is as follows, and is addressed by the apostles to “the +multitude of the disciples,” who desired an improved clerical rule:—“Wherefore, +brethren, look ye out among you seven men of honest report, +full of the Holy Ghost and wisdom, whom <i>we</i> may appoint over this +business.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_274" id="Footnote_274" href="#FnAnchor_274"><span class="fn">274</span></a> G. Garrard’s Letter to the Earl of Strafford, vol. i. p. 208.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_275" id="Footnote_275" href="#FnAnchor_275"><span class="fn">275</span></a> Harl. MS. 7580.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_276" id="Footnote_276" href="#FnAnchor_276"><span class="fn">276</span></a> See the London Printers’ Lamentation on the Press Oppressed. Harl. +Coll. iii. 280.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>VIEW OF A PARTICULAR PERIOD OF THE STATE OF<br /> +RELIGION IN OUR CIVIL WARS.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Looking</span> over the manuscript diary of Sir Symonds D’Ewes, +I was struck by a picture of the domestic religious life which +at that period was prevalent among families. Sir Symonds +was a sober antiquary, heated with no fanaticism, yet I discovered +in his diary that he was a visionary in his constitution, +macerating his body by private fasts, and spiritualising +in search of <i>secret signs</i>. These ascetic penances were afterwards +succeeded in the nation by an era of hypocritical +sanctity; and we may trace this last stage of insanity and of +immorality closing with impiety. This would be a dreadful +picture of religion, if for a moment we supposed that it were +<i>religion</i>; that consolatory power which has its source in our +feelings, and according to the derivation of its expressive +term, <i>binds men together</i>. With us it was sectarism, whose +origin and causes we shall not now touch on, which broke +out into so many monstrous shapes, when every pretended +reformer was guided by his own peculiar fancies: we have +lived to prove that folly and wickedness are rarely obsolete.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page434" id="page434"></a>434</span></p> + +<p>The age of Sir Symonds D’Ewes, who lived through the +times of Charles the First, was religious; for the character +of this monarch had all the seriousness and piety not found +in the <i>bonhomie</i> and careless indecorums of his father, whose +manners of the Scottish court were moulded on the gaieties +of the French, from the ancient intercourse of the French +and Scottish governments. But this religious age of Charles +the First presents a strange contrast with the licentiousness +which subsequently prevailed among the people: there seems +to be a secret connexion between a religious and an irreligious +period: the levity of popular feeling is driven to and fro by +its reaction; when man has been once taught to contemn his +mere humanity, his abstract fancies open a secret bye-path +to his presumed salvation; he wanders till he is lost—he +trembles till he dotes in melancholy—he raves till truth +itself is no longer immutable. The transition to a very +opposite state is equally rapid and vehement. Such is the +history of man when his religion is founded on misdirected +feelings; and such, too, is the reaction so constantly operating +in all human affairs.</p> + +<p>The writer of this diary did not belong to those nonconformists +who arranged themselves in hostility to the established +religion and political government of our country. A +private gentleman and a phlegmatic antiquary, Sir Symonds +withal was a zealous Church of England protestant. Yet +amidst the mystical allusions of an age of religious controversies, +we see these close in the scenes we are about to open, +and find this quiet gentleman tormenting himself and his +lady by watching for “certain <i>evident marks</i> and <i>signs of an +assurance</i> for a better life,” with I know not how many distinct +sorts of “Graces.”</p> + +<p>I give an extract from the manuscript diary:—</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>“I spent this day chiefly in <i>private fasting</i>, prayer, and other religious +exercises. This was the first time that I ever practised this duty, having +always before declined it, by reason of the papists’ superstitious abuses of +it. I had partaken formerly of <i>public fasts</i>, but never knew the use and +benefit of the same duty performed alone in secret, or with others of mine +own family in private. In these particulars, I had my knowledge much +enlarged by the religious converse I enjoyed at Albury Lodge, for there also +I shortly after entered upon <i>framing an evidence of marks and signs for +my assurance of a better life</i>.</p> + +<p>“I found much benefit of my <i>secret fasting</i>, from a learned discourse on +fasting by Mr. Henry Mason, and observed his rule, that Christians ought +to sit sometimes apart for their ordinary humiliation and fasting, and so +intend to continue the same course as long as my health will permit me. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page435" id="page435"></a>435</span> +Yet did I vary the times and duration of my fasting. At first, before I +had finished <i>the marks and signs of my assurance of a better life, which +scrutiny and search cost me some three-score days of fasting</i>, I performed +it sometimes twice in the space of five weeks, then once each month, or a +little sooner or later, and then also I sometimes ended the duties of the +day, and took some little food about three of the clock in the afternoon. +But for divers years last past, I constantly abstained from all food the +whole day. I fasted till supper-time, about six in the evening, and spent +ordinarily about eight or nine hours in the performance of religious duties; +one part of which was <i>prayer and confession of sins</i>, to which end I +wrote down <i>a catalogue of all my known sins</i>, orderly. These were all +sins of <i>infirmity</i>; for, through God’s grace, I was so far from allowing +myself in the practice and commission of any <i>actual</i> sin, as I durst not +take upon me any <i>controversial sins</i>, as usury, carding, dicing, mixt dancing, +and the like, because I was in mine own judgment persuaded they +were unlawful. Till I had finished my <i>assurance</i> first in English and afterwards +in Latin, with a large and an elaborate preface in Latin also to +it; I spent a great part of the day at that work, &c.</p> + +<p>“Saturday, December 1, 1627, I devoted to my usual course of <i>secret +fasting</i>, and drew divers <i>signs of my assurance of a better life</i> from the +<i>grace</i> of repentance, having before gone through the <i>graces</i> of knowledge, +faith, hope, love, zeal, patience, humility, and joy; and drawing several +marks from them on like days of humiliation for the greater part. My +dear wife beginning also to draw <i>most certain signs</i> of her own future +happiness after death from <i>several graces</i>.</p> + +<p>“January 19, 1628.—Saturday I spent in secret humiliation and fastings, +and finished <i>my whole assurance to a better life</i>, consisting of <span class="sc">three +score</span> and <span class="sc">four signs</span>, or marks drawn from <i>several graces</i>. I made some +small alterations in the signs afterwards; and when I turned them into the +Latin tongue, I enriched the margent with further <i>proofs and authorities</i>. +I found much comfort and reposedness of spirit from them, which shows +the devilish sophisms of the papists, anabaptists, and pseudo-Lutherans, +and profane atheistical men, who say that <i>assurance</i> brings forth presumption, +and a careless wicked life. True, when men pretend to the end, and +not use the means.</p> + +<p>“My wife joined with me in a private day of <i>fasting</i>, and drew <i>several +signs and marks by</i> <span class="sc">my</span> <i>help and assistance, for her assurance to a better +life</i>.”</p> +</div> + +<p>This was an era of religious diaries, particularly among the +nonconformists; but they were, as we see, used by others. +Of the Countess of Warwick, who died in 1678, we are told +that “she kept a diary, and took counsel with two persons, +whom she called her <i>soul’s friends</i>.” She called prayers +<i>heart’s ease</i>, for such she found them. “Her own lord, knowing +her <i>hours of prayers</i>, once conveyed a godly minister into +<i>a secret place</i> within hearing, who, being a man very able to +judge, much admired her humble fervency; for in praying +she prayed aloud; but when she did not with an audible +voice, her sighs and groans might be heard at a good distance +from the closet.” We are not surprised to discover this +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page436" id="page436"></a>436</span> +practice of religious diaries among the more puritanic sort: +what they were we may gather from this description of one. +Mr. John Janeway “kept a diary, in which he wrote down +<i>every evening</i> what the <i>frame of his spirit</i> had been <i>all that +day</i>; he took notice what <i>incomes</i> he had, what <i>profit</i> he +received in his spiritual traffic: what <i>returns</i> came from that +far country; what <i>answers</i> of prayer, what deadness and flatness +of spirit,” &c. And so we find of Mr. John Carter, that +“He kept a <i>day-book</i> and <i>cast up his accounts</i> with God every +day.”<a name="FnAnchor_277" id="FnAnchor_277" href="#Footnote_277"><span class="sp">277</span></a> To such worldly notions had they humiliated the +spirit of religion; and this style, and this mode of religion, +has long been continued among us even among men of superior +acquisitions: as witness the “Spiritual Diary and Soliloquies” +of a learned physician within our own times, Dr. Rutty, which +is a great curiosity of the kind.</p> + +<p>Such was the domestic state of many well-meaning families: +they were rejecting with the utmost abhorrence every resemblance +to what they called the idolatry of Rome, while, in +fact, the gloom of the monastic cell was settling over the +houses of these melancholy puritans. Private fasts were more +than ever practised; and a lady, said to be eminent for her +genius and learning, who outlived this era, declared that she +had nearly lost her life through a prevalent notion that <i>no fat +person could get to heaven</i>; and thus spoiled and wasted her +body through excessive fastings. A quaker, to prove the text +that “Man shall not live <i>by bread alone</i>, but by the word of +God,” persisted in refusing his meals. The literal text proved +for him a dead letter, and this practical commentator died by +a metaphor. This quaker, however, was not the only victim +to the letter of the text; for the famous Origen, by interpreting +in too literal a way the 12th verse of the 19th of +St. Matthew, which alludes to those persons who become +eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven, with his own hands +armed himself against himself, as is sufficiently known. +“<i>Retournons à nos moutons!</i>” The parliament afterwards +had both periodical and occasional fasts; and Charles the +First opposed “the hypocritical fast of every Wednesday in +the month, by appointing one for the second Friday;” the +two unhappy parties, who were hungering and thirsting for +each other’s blood, were fasting in spite one against the +other!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page437" id="page437"></a>437</span></p> + +<p>Without inquiring into the causes, even if we thought that +we could ascertain them, of that frightful dissolution of religion +which so long prevailed in our country, and of which +the very corruption it has left behind still breeds in monstrous +shapes, it will be sufficient to observe that the destruction +of the monarchy and the ecclesiastical order was a moral +earthquake, overturning all minds, and opening all changes. +A theological logomachy was substituted by the sullen and +proud ascetics who ascended into power. These, without +wearying themselves, wearied all others, and triumphed over +each other by their mutual obscurity. The two great giants +in this theological war were the famous Richard Baxter and +Dr. Owen. They both wrote a library of books; but the +endless controversy between them was the extraordinary and +incomprehensible subject, whether the death of Christ was +<i>solutio ejusdem</i>, or only <i>tantundem</i>; that is, whether it was +a payment of the very thing, which by law we ought to have +paid, or of something held by God to be equivalent. Such +was the point on which this debate between Owen and Baxter +lasted without end.</p> + +<p>Yet these metaphysical absurdities were harmless, compared +to what was passing among the more hot fanatics, who were +for acting the wild fancies which their melancholy brains +engendered; men, who from the places into which they had +thrust themselves, might now be called “the higher orders +of society!” These two parties alike sent forth an evil spirit +to walk among the multitude. Every one would become his +own law-maker, and even his own prophet; the meanest +aspired to give his name to his sect. All things were to be +put in motion according to the St. Vitus’s dance of the last +new saint. “Away with the Law! which cuts off a man’s +legs and then bids him walk!” cried one from his pulpit. +“Let believers sin as fast as they will, they have a fountain +open to wash them;” declared another teacher. We had the +<i>Brownists</i>, from Robert Brown, the <i>Vaneists</i>, from Sir Harry +Vane, then we sink down to Mr. Traske, Mr. Wilkinson, Mr. +Robinson, and H. N., or Henry Nicholas, of the Family of +Love, besides Mrs. Hutchinson, and the Grindletonian family, +who preferred “motions to motives,” and conveniently assumed +that “their spirit is not to be tried by the Scripture, +but the Scripture by their spirit.” Edwards, the author of +“Gangræna,” the adversary of Milton, whose work may still +be preserved for its curiosity, though immortalised by the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page438" id="page438"></a>438</span> +scourge of genius, has furnished a list of about two hundred +of such sects in these times. A divine of the Church of +England observed to a great sectary, “You talk of the idolatry +of Rome: but each of you, whenever you have made and set +up a calf, will dance about it.”<a name="FnAnchor_278" id="FnAnchor_278" href="#Footnote_278"><span class="sp">278</span></a></p> + +<p>This confusion of religions, if, indeed, these pretended +modes of faith could be classed among religions, disturbed the +consciences of good men, who read themselves in and out of +their vacillating creed. It made, at least, even one of the +puritans themselves, who had formerly complained that they +had not enjoyed sufficient freedom under the bishops, cry out +against “this cursed intolerable toleration.” And the fact is, +that when the presbyterians had fixed themselves into the +government, they published several treatises against toleration! +The parallel between these wild notions of reform, and +those of another character, run closely together. About this +time, well-meaning persons, who were neither enthusiasts from +the ambition of founding sects, nor of covering their immorality +by their impiety, were infected by the <i>religiosa insania</i>. +One case may stand for many. A Mr. Greswold, a gentleman +of Warwickshire, whom a Brownist had by degrees enticed +from his parish church, was afterwards persuaded to return +to it—but he returned with a troubled mind, and lost in +the prevalent theological contests. A horror of his future +existence shut him out, as it were, from his present one: retiring +into his own house, with his children, he ceased to +communicate with the living world. He had his food put in +at the window; and when his children lay sick, he admitted +no one for their relief. His house at length was forced open, +and they found two children dead, and the father confined to +his bed. He had mangled his Bible, and cut out the titles, +contents, and everything but the very text itself; for it seems +that he thought that everything human was sinful, and he +conceived that the titles of the books and the contents of +the chapters were to be cut out of the sacred Scriptures, as +having been composed by men.<a name="FnAnchor_279" id="FnAnchor_279" href="#Footnote_279"><span class="sp">279</span></a></p> + +<p>More terrible it was when the insanity, which had hitherto +been more confined to the better classes, burst forth among +the common people. Were we to dwell minutely on this +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page439" id="page439"></a>439</span> +period, we should start from the picture with horror: we +might, perhaps, console ourselves with a disbelief of its truth; +but the drug, though bitter in the mouth, we must sometimes +digest. To observe the extent to which the populace +can proceed, disfranchised of law and religion, will always +leave a memorable recollection.</p> + +<p>What occurred in the French Revolution had happened here—an +age of impiety! Society itself seemed dissolved, for every +tie of private affection and of public duty was unloosened. +Even nature was strangely violated! From the first opposition +to the decorous ceremonies of the national church, by +the simple puritans, the next stage was that of ridicule, and +the last of obloquy. They began by calling the surplice a +linen rag on the back; baptism a Christ’s cross on a baby’s +face; and the organ was likened to the bellow, the grunt, +and the barking of the respective animals. They actually baptized +horses in churches at the fonts; and the jest of that +day was, that the Reformation was now a thorough one in +England, since our horses went to church.<a name="FnAnchor_280" id="FnAnchor_280" href="#Footnote_280"><span class="sp">280</span></a> St. Paul’s cathedral +was turned into a market, and the aisles, the communion-table, +and the altar, served for the foulest purposes.<a name="FnAnchor_281" id="FnAnchor_281" href="#Footnote_281"><span class="sp">281</span></a> The +liberty which every one now assumed of delivering his own +opinions, led to acts so execrable, that I can find no parallel +for them except in the mad times of the French Revolution. +Some maintained that there existed no distinction between +moral good and moral evil; and that every man’s actions +were prompted by the Creator. Prostitution was professed +as a religious act; a glazier was declared to be a prophet, and +the woman he cohabited with was said to be ready to lie in of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page440" id="page440"></a>440</span> +the Messiah. A man married his father’s wife. Murders of +the most extraordinary nature were occurring; one woman +crucified her mother; another, in imitation of Abraham, sacrificed +her child; we hear, too, of parricides. Amidst the +slaughters of civil wars, spoil and blood had accustomed the +people to contemplate the most horrible scenes. One madman +of the many, we find drinking a health on his knees, in +the midst of a town, “to the devil! that it might be said +that his family should not be extinct without doing some +infamous act.” A Scotchman, one Alexander Agnew, commonly +called “Jock of broad Scotland,” whom one cannot +call an atheist, for he does not seem to deny the existence of +the Creator, nor a future state, had a shrewdness of local +humour in his strange notions. Omitting some offensive +things, others as strange may exhibit the state to which the +reaction of an hypocritical system of religion had driven the +common people. “Jock of broad Scotland” said he was nothing +in God’s common, for God had given him nothing; he +was no more obliged to God than to the devil; for God was +very greedy. Neither God nor the devil gave the fruits of +the ground; the wives of the country gave him his meat. +When asked wherein he believed, he answered, “He believed +in white meal, water, and salt. Christ was not God; for he +came into the world after it was made, and died as other +men.” He declared that “he did not know whether God or +the devil had the greatest power; but he thought the devil +was the greatest. When I die, let God and the devil strive +for my soul, and let him that is strongest take it.” He no +doubt had been taught by the presbytery to mock religious +rites; and when desired to give God thanks for his meat, he +said, “Take a sackful of prayers to the mill and grind them, +and take your breakfast of them.” To others he said, +“I will give you a two-pence, to pray until a boll of meal, +and one stone of butter, fall from heaven through the house +rigging (roof) to you.” When bread and cheese were laid +on the ground by him, he said, “If I leave this, I will long +cry to God before he give it me again.” To others he said, +“Take a bannock, and break it in two, and lay down one +half thereof, and you will long pray to God before he will +put the other half to it again!” He seems to have been an +anti-trinitarian. He said he received everything from nature, +which had ever reigned and ever would. He would not conform +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page441" id="page441"></a>441</span> +to any religious system, nor name the three Persons,—“At +all these things I have long shaken my cap,” he said. +“Jock of broad Scotland” seems to have been one of those +who imagine that God should have furnished them with bannocks +ready baked.</p> + +<p>The extravagant fervour then working in the minds of the +people is marked by the story told by Clement Walker of the +soldier who entered a church with a lantern and a candle +burning in it, and in the other hand four candles not lighted. +He said he came to deliver his message from God, and show +it by these types of candles. Driven into the churchyard, +and the wind blowing strong, he could not kindle his candles, +and the new prophet was awkwardly compelled to conclude +his five denouncements, abolishing the Sabbath, tithes, ministers, +magistrates, and, at last, the Bible itself, without +putting out each candle, as he could not kindle them; observing, +however, each time—“And here I should put out +the first light, but the wind is so high that I cannot +kindle it.”</p> + +<p>A perfect scene of the effects which the state of irreligious +society produced among the lower orders I am enabled to +give from the manuscript life of John Shaw, vicar of Rotherham; +with a little tediousness, but with infinite <i>naïveté</i>, he +relates what happened to himself. This honest divine was +puritanically inclined, but there can be no exaggeration in +these unvarnished facts. He tells a remarkable story of the +state of religious knowledge in Lancashire, at a place called +Cartmel: some of the people appeared desirous of religious +instruction, declaring that they were without any minister, +and had entirely neglected every religious rite, and therefore +pressed him to quit his situation at Lymm for a short period. +He may now tell his own story.</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>“I found a very large spacious church, scarce any seats in it; a people +very ignorant, and yet willing to learn; so as I had frequently some thousands +of hearers, I catechised in season and out of season. The churches +were so thronged at nine in the morning, that I had much ado to get to +the pulpit. One day, an old man about sixty, sensible enough in other +things, and living in the parish of Cartmel, coming to me on some business, +I told him that he belonged to my care and charge, and I desired to +be informed of his knowledge in religion. I asked him how many Gods +there were? He said he knew not. I informing him, asked again how he +thought to be saved? He answered he could not tell. Yet thought that +was a harder question than the other. I told him that the way to salvation +was by Jesus Christ, God-man, who as he was man shed his blood +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page442" id="page442"></a>442</span> +for us on the cross, &c. Oh, sir, said he, I think I heard of that man you +speak of once in a play at Kendall, called Corpus-Christ’s play,<a name="FnAnchor_282" id="FnAnchor_282" href="#Footnote_282"><span class="sp">282</span></a> where +there was a man on a tree and blood run down, &c. And afterwards he +professed he could not remember that he ever heard of salvation by Jesus, +but in that play.”</p> +</div> + +<p>The scenes passing in the metropolis, as well as in the +country, are opened to us in one of the chronicling poems +of George Withers. Our sensible rhymer wrote in November, +1652, “a Darke Lanthorne” on the present subject.</p> + +<p>After noticing that God, to mortify us, had sent preachers +from the “shop-board and the plough,”</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + + <p class="i2">———Such as we seem justly to contemn,</p> +<p>As making truths abhorred, which come from them;</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">he seems, however, inclined to think that these self-taught +“Teachers and Prophets” in their darkness might hold a +certain light within them:</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + + <p class="i7">————Children, fools,</p> +<p>Women, and madmen, we do often meet</p> +<p>Preaching, and threatening judgments in the street,</p> +<p>Yea by strange actions, postures, tones, and cries,</p> +<p>Themselves they offer to our ears and eyes</p> +<p>As signs unto this nation.——</p> +<p>They act as men in ecstacies have done——</p> +<p>Striving their cloudy visions to declare,</p> +<p>Till they have lost the notions which they had,</p> +<p>And want but few degrees of being mad.<a name="FnAnchor_283" id="FnAnchor_283" href="#Footnote_283"><span class="sp">283</span></a></p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Such is the picture of the folly and of the wickedness, +which, after having been preceded by the piety of a religious +age, were succeeded by a dominion of hypocritical sanctity, +and then closed in all the horrors of immorality and impiety. +The parliament at length issued one of their ordinances for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page443" id="page443"></a>443</span> +“punishing blasphemous and execrable opinions,” and this +was enforced with greater power than the slighted proclamations +of James and Charles; but the curious wording is a +comment on our present subject. The preamble notices that +“men and women had lately discovered <i>monstrous opinions</i>, +even such as tended to <i>the dissolution of human society, and +have abused, and turned into licentiousness, the liberty given +in matters of religion</i>.” It punishes any person not distempered +in his brains, who shall maintain any mere creature to +be God; or that all acts of unrighteousness are not forbidden +in the Scriptures; or that God approves of them; or that +there is no real difference between moral good and evil, &c.</p> + +<p>To this disordered state was the public mind reduced, for +this proclamation was only describing what was passing +among the people! The view of this subject embraces more +than one point, which I leave for the meditation of the politician, +as well as the religionist.</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_277" id="Footnote_277" href="#FnAnchor_277"><span class="fn">277</span></a> “The Lives of Sundry Eminent Persons in this Later Age;” by Samuel +Clarke. Folio, 1683. A rare volume, with curious portraits.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_278" id="Footnote_278" href="#FnAnchor_278"><span class="fn">278</span></a> Alexander Ross’s laborious “View of all Religions” may also be consulted +with advantage by those who would study this subject.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_279" id="Footnote_279" href="#FnAnchor_279"><span class="fn">279</span></a> “The Hypocrite Discovered and Cured,” by Sam. Torshall, 4to. 1644.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_280" id="Footnote_280" href="#FnAnchor_280"><span class="fn">280</span></a> There is a pamphlet which records a strange fact. “News from +Powles: or the new Reformation of the army, with a true Relation of a +Colt that was foaled in the Cathedral Church of St. Paul, in London, and +how it was publiquely baptised, and the name (because a bald colt) was +called Baal-Rex!” 1649. The water they sprinkled from the soldier’s +helmet on this occasion is described. The same occurred elsewhere. See +Foulis’s History of the Plots, &c., of our pretended Saints. These men, +who baptized horses and pigs in the name of the Trinity, sang psalms +when they marched. One cannot easily comprehend the nature of fanaticism, +except when we learn that they refused to pay rents!</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_281" id="Footnote_281" href="#FnAnchor_281"><span class="fn">281</span></a> That curious compilation by Bruno Ryves, published in 1646, with +the title “Mercurius Rusticus, or the countrie’s complaint of the barbarous +outrages committed by the sectaries of this late flourishing kingdom,” furnishes +a fearful detail of “sacrileges, profanations, and plunderings committed +in the cathedrall churches.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_282" id="Footnote_282" href="#FnAnchor_282"><span class="fn">282</span></a> The festival of Corpus Christi, held on the first Thursday after Trinity +Sunday, was the period chosen in old times for the performances of +miracle-plays by the clergy, or the guilds of various towns; for an account +of them see vol. i. p. 352-362.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_283" id="Footnote_283" href="#FnAnchor_283"><span class="fn">283</span></a> There is a little “Treatise of Humilitie, published by E.D.—Parson, +sequestered”—1654; in which, while enforcing the virtue which his book +defends, he with much <i>naïveté</i> gives a strong opinion of his oppressors. +“We acknowledge the justice and mercy of the Lord in punishing us, so +we take notice of his wisdom in choosing such instruments to punish us, +<i>men of mean and low rank, and of common parts and abilities</i>. By +these he doth admonish all the honourable, valiant, learned, and wise men +of this nation; and as it were write our sin, in the character of our punishment; +and in <i>the low condition</i> of these instruments of his anger and displeasure, +the rod of his wrath, he would abate and punish our great +pride.”</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>BUCKINGHAM’S POLITICAL COQUETRY WITH THE PURITANS.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Buckingham</span>, observes Hume, “in order to fortify himself +against the resentment of James”—on the conduct of the +duke in the Spanish match, when James was latterly hearing +every day Buckingham against Bristol, and Bristol against +Buckingham—“had affected popularity, and entered into the +cabals of the puritans; but afterwards, being secure of the +confidence of Charles, he had since abandoned this party; and +on that account was the more exposed to their hatred and +resentment.”</p> + +<p>The political coquetry of a minister coalescing with an +opposition party, when he was on the point of being disgraced, +would doubtless open an involved scene of intrigue; +and what one exacted, and the other was content to yield, +towards the mutual accommodation, might add one more example +to the large chapter of political infirmity. Both +workmen attempting to convert each other into tools, by +first trying their respective malleability on the anvil, are +liable to be disconcerted by even a slight accident, whenever +that proves, to perfect conviction, how little they can depend +on each other, and that each party comes to cheat, and not +to be cheated!</p> + +<p>This piece of secret history is in part recoverable from +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page444" id="page444"></a>444</span> +good authority. The two great actors were the Duke of +Buckingham and Dr. Preston, the master of Emmanual College, +and the head of the puritan party.</p> + +<p>Dr. Preston was an eminent character, who from his youth +was not without ambition. His scholastic learning, the subtilty +of his genius, and his more elegant accomplishments, had +attracted the notice of James, at whose table he was perhaps +more than once honoured as a guest; a suspicion of his puritanic +principles was perhaps the only obstacle to his court +preferment; yet Preston unquestionably designed to play a +political part. He retained the favour of James by the king’s +hope of withdrawing the doctor from the opposition party, +and commanded the favour of Buckingham by the fears of +that minister; when, to employ the quaint style of Hacket, +the duke foresaw that “he might come to be tried in the +furnace of the next sessions of parliament, and he had need +to make the refiners his friends:” most of these “refiners” +were the puritanic or opposition party. Appointed one of the +chaplains of Prince Charles, Dr. Preston had the advantage of +being in frequent attendance; and as Hacket tells us, “this +politic man felt the pulse of the court, and wanted not the +intelligence of all dark mysteries through the Scotch in his +highness’s bed-chamber.” A close communication took place +between the duke and Preston, who, as Hacket describes, was +“a good crow to smell carrion.” He obtained an easy admission +to the duke’s closet at least thrice a week, and their +notable conferences Buckingham appears to have communicated +to his confidential friends. Preston, intent on carrying +all his points, skilfully commenced with the smaller ones. +He winded the duke circuitously,—he worked at him subterraneously. +This wary politician was too sagacious to propose +what he had at heart—the extirpation of the hierarchy! The +thunder of James’s voice, “No bishop! no king!” in the +conference at Hampton Court, still echoed in the ear of the +puritan. He assured the duke that the love of the people +was his only anchor, which could only be secured by the most +popular measures. A new sort of reformation was easy to +execute. Cathedrals and collegiate churches maintained by +vast wealth, and the lands of the chapter, only fed “fat, lazy, +and unprofitable drones.” The dissolution of the foundations +of deans and chapters would open an ample source to pay the +king’s debts, and scatter the streams of patronage. “You +would then become the darling of the commonwealth;” I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page445" id="page445"></a>445</span> +give the words as I find them in Hacket. “If a crumb stick +in the throat of any considerable man that attempts an opposition, +it will be easy to wash it down with manors, woods, +royalties, tythes, &c.” It would be furnishing the wants of +a number of gentlemen; and he quoted a Greek proverb, +“that when a great oak falls, every neighbour may scuffle for +a faggot.”</p> + +<p>Dr. Preston was willing to perform the part which Knox +had acted in Scotland! He might have been certain of a +party to maintain this national violation of property; for he +who calls out “Plunder!” will ever find a gang. These acts +of national injustice, so much desired by revolutionists, are +never beneficial to the people; they never partake of the +spoliation, and the whole terminates in the gratification of +private rapacity.</p> + +<p>It was not, however, easy to obtain such perpetual access to +the minister, and at the same time escape from the watchful. +Archbishop Williams, the lord keeper, got sufficient hints +from the king; and in a tedious conference with the duke, +he wished to convince him that Preston had only offered him +“flitten milk, out of which he should churn nothing!” The +duke was, however, smitten by the new project, and made a +remarkable answer: “You lose yourself in generalities: make +it out to me, in particular, if you can, that the motion you +pick at will find repulse, and be baffled in the House of Commons. +I know not how you bishops may struggle, but I am +much deluded if a great part of the knights and burgesses +would not be glad to see this alteration.” We are told on +this, that Archbishop Williams took out a list of the members +of the House of Commons, and convinced the minister +that an overwhelming majority would oppose this projected +revolution, and that in consequence the duke gave it up.</p> + +<p>But this anterior decision of the duke may be doubtful, +since Preston still retained the high favour of the minister, +after the death of James. When James died at Theobalds, +where Dr. Preston happened to be in attendance, he had the +honour of returning to town in the new king’s coach with +the Duke of Buckingham. The doctor’s servile adulation of +the minister gave even great offence to the over-zealous puritans. +That he was at length discarded is certain; but this +was owing not to any deficient subserviency on the side of +our politician, but to one of those unlucky circumstances +which have often put an end to temporary political connexions, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page446" id="page446"></a>446</span> +by enabling one party to discover what the other +thinks of him.</p> + +<p>I draw this curious fact from a manuscript narrative in +the handwriting of the learned William Wotton. When the +puritanic party foolishly became jealous of the man who +seemed to be working at root and branch for their purposes, +they addressed a letter to Preston, remonstrating with him +for his servile attachment to the minister; on which he confidently +returned an answer, assuring them that he was as +fully convinced of the vileness and profligacy of the Duke of +Buckingham’s character as any man could be, but that there +was no way to come at him but by the lowest flattery, and +that it was necessary for the glory of God that such instruments +should be made use of as could be had; and for that +reason, and that alone, he showed that respect to the reigning +favourite, and not for any real honour that he had for him. +This letter proved fatal; some officious hand conveyed it to +the duke! When Preston came, as usual, the duke took his +opportunity of asking him what he had ever done to disoblige +him, that he should describe him in such black characters to +his own party? Preston, in amazement, denied the fact, and +poured forth professions of honour and gratitude. The duke +showed him his own letter. Dr. Preston instantaneously +felt a political apoplexy; the labours of some years were lost +in a single morning. The baffled politician was turned out +of Wallingford House, never more to see the enraged minister! +And from that moment Buckingham wholly abandoned the +puritans, and cultivated the friendship of Laud. This happened +soon after James the First’s death. Wotton adds, +“This story I had from one who was extremely well versed +in the secret history of the time.”<a name="FnAnchor_284" id="FnAnchor_284" href="#Footnote_284"><span class="sp">284</span></a></p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_284" id="Footnote_284" href="#FnAnchor_284"><span class="fn">284</span></a> Wotton delivered this memorandum to the literary antiquary, Thomas +Baker; and Kennet transcribed it in his Manuscript Collections. Lansdowne +MSS. No. 932-88. The life of Dr. Preston, in Chalmers’s Biographical +Dictionary, may be consulted with advantage.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>SIR EDWARD COKE’S EXCEPTIONS AGAINST THE HIGH +SHERIFF’S OATH.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">A curious</span> fact will show the revolutionary nature of human +events, and the necessity of correcting our ancient statutes, +which so frequently hold out punishments and penalties for +objects which have long ceased to be criminal; as well as for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page447" id="page447"></a>447</span> +persons against whom it would be barbarous to allow some +unrepealed statute to operate.</p> + +<p>When a political stratagem was practised by Charles the +First to keep certain members out of the House of Commons, +by pricking them down as sheriffs in their different counties, +among them was the celebrated Sir Edward Coke, whom the +government had made High Sheriff for Bucks. It was +necessary, perhaps, to be a learned and practised lawyer to +discover the means he took, in the height of his resentment, +to elude the insult. This great lawyer, who himself, perhaps, +had often administered the oath to the sheriffs, which had, +century after century, been usual for them to take, to the surprise +of all persons drew up Exceptions against the Sheriff’s +Oath, declaring that no one could take it. Coke sent his +Exceptions to the attorney-general, who, by an immediate +order in council, submitted them to “all the judges of England.” +Our legal luminary had condescended only to some +ingenious cavilling in three of his exceptions; but the fourth +was of a nature which could not be overcome. All the judges +of England assented, and declared, that there was one part of +this ancient oath which was perfectly irreligious, and must +ever hereafter be left out! This article was, “That you shall +do all your pain and diligence to destroy and make to cease +all manner of heresies, commonly called <i>Lollaries</i>, within your +bailiwick, &c.”<a name="FnAnchor_285" id="FnAnchor_285" href="#Footnote_285"><span class="sp">285</span></a> The Lollards were the most ancient of protestants, +and had practised Luther’s sentiments; it was, in +fact, condemning the established religion of the country! +An order was issued from Hampton Court, for the abrogation +of this part of the oath; and at present all high sheriffs owe +this obligation to the resentment of Sir Edward Coke, for +having been pricked down as Sheriff of Bucks, to be kept out +of parliament! The merit of having the oath changed, <i>instanter</i>, +he was allowed; but he was not excused taking it, +after it was accommodated to the conscientious and lynx-eyed +detection of our enraged lawyer.</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_285" id="Footnote_285" href="#FnAnchor_285"><span class="fn">285</span></a> Rushworth’s Historical Collections, vol. i. p. 199.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page448" id="page448"></a>448</span></p> +<h3>SECRET HISTORY OF CHARLES THE FIRST AND HIS FIRST +PARLIAMENTS.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">The</span> reign of Charles the First, succeeded by the Commonwealth +of England, forms a period unparalleled by any preceding +one in the annals of mankind. It was for the English +nation the great result of all former attempts to ascertain and +to secure the just freedom of the subject. The prerogative of +the sovereign and the rights of the people were often +imagined to be mutual encroachments, and were long involved +in contradiction, in an age of unsettled opinions and disputed +principles. At length the conflicting parties of monarchy +and democracy, in the weakness of their passions, discovered +how much each required the other for its protector. This age +offers the finest speculations in human nature; it opens a +protracted scene of glory and of infamy; all that elevates, +and all that humiliates our kind, wrestling together, and expiring +in a career of glorious deeds, of revolting crimes, and +even of ludicrous infirmities!</p> + +<p>The French Revolution is the commentary of the English; +and a commentary at times more important than the text +which it elucidates. It has thrown a freshness over the +antiquity of our own history; and, on returning to it, we seem +to possess the feelings, and to be agitated by the interests, of +contemporaries. The circumstances and the persons which so +many imagine had passed away, have been reproduced under our +own eyes. In other histories we accept the knowledge of the +characters and the incidents on the evidence of the historian; +but here we may take them from our own conviction, since +to extinct names and to past events we can apply the reality +which we ourselves have witnessed.</p> + +<p>Charles the First had scarcely ascended the throne ere he +discovered that in his new parliament he was married to a +sullen bride: the youthful monarch, with the impatience of a +lover, warm with hope and glory, was ungraciously repulsed +even in the first favours! The prediction of his father +remained, like the handwriting on the wall; but, seated +on the throne, Hope was more congenial to youth than +Prophecy.</p> + +<p>As soon as Charles the First could assemble a parliament, +he addressed them with an earnestness, in which the simplicity +of words and thoughts strongly contrasted with the oratorical +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page449" id="page449"></a>449</span> +harangues of the late monarch. It cannot be alleged against +Charles the First, that he preceded the parliament in the war +of words. He courted their affections; and even in this +manner of reception, amidst the dignity of the regal office, +studiously showed his exterior respect by the marked solemnity +of their first meeting. As yet uncrowned, on the day on +which he first addressed the Lords and Commons, he wore +his crown, and vailed it at the opening, and on the close of +his speech; a circumstance to which the parliament had not +been accustomed. Another ceremony gave still greater +solemnity to the meeting; the king would not enter into +business till they had united in prayer. He commanded the +doors to be closed, and a bishop to perform the office. The +suddenness of this unexpected command disconcerted the +catholic lords, of whom the less rigid knelt, and the moderate +stood: there was one startled papist who did nothing but +cross himself!<a name="FnAnchor_286" id="FnAnchor_286" href="#Footnote_286"><span class="sp">286</span></a></p> + +<p>The speech may be found in Rushworth; the friendly tone +must be shown here.</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>I hope that you do remember that you were pleased to employ me to +advise my father to break off the treaties (with Spain). I came into this +business willingly and freely, like a young man, and consequently rashly; +but it was by your interest—your engagement. I pray you to remember, +that this being my <i>first action</i>, and begun by <i>your advice and entreaty</i>, +what a great dishonour it were to you and me that it should fail for that +assistance you are able to give me!</p> +</div> + +<p>This effusion excited no sympathy in the house. They +voted not a seventh part of the expenditure necessary to +proceed with a war, into which, as a popular measure, they +themselves had forced the king.</p> + +<p>At Oxford the king again reminded them that he was +engaged in a war “from their desires and advice.” He expresses +his disappointment at their insufficient grant, “far short to +set forth the navy now preparing.” The speech preserves +the same simplicity.</p> + +<p>Still no echo of kindness responded in the house. It was, +however, asserted, in a vague and quibbling manner, that +“though a former parliament did engage the king in a war, +yet, (if things were managed by a contrary design, and the +treasure misemployed) <i>this parliament is not bound by another +parliament</i>:” and they added a cruel mockery, “that the +king should help the cause of the Palatinate with <i>his own</i> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page450" id="page450"></a>450</span> +<i>money</i>!”—this foolish war, which James and Charles had so +long borne their reproaches for having avoided as hopeless, +but which the puritanic party, as well as others, had continually +urged as necessary for the maintenance of the protestant +cause in Europe.</p> + +<p>Still no supplies! but protestations of duty, and petitions +about grievances, which it had been difficult to specify. In +their “Declaration” they style his Majesty “Our dear and +dread sovereign,” and themselves “his poor Commons:” but +they concede no point—they offer no aid! The king was not +yet disposed to quarrel, though he had in vain pressed for +dispatch of business, lest the season should be lost for the +navy; again reminding them, that “it was the <i>first request</i> +that he ever made unto them!” On the pretence of the plague +at Oxford, Charles prorogued parliament, with a promise to +reassemble in the winter.</p> + +<p>There were a few whose hearts had still a pulse to vibrate +with the distresses of a youthful monarch, perplexed by a war +which they themselves had raised. But others, of a more +republican complexion, rejected “<i>Necessity</i>, as a dangerous +counsellor, which would be always furnishing arguments for +supplies. If the king was in danger and necessity, those +ought to answer for it who have put both king and kingdom +into this peril: and if the state of things would not admit a +redress of grievances, there cannot be so much <i>necessity for +money</i>.”</p> + +<p>The first parliament abandoned the king!</p> + +<p>Charles now had no other means to despatch the army and +fleet, in a bad season, but by borrowing money on privy seals: +these were letters, where the loan exacted was as small as the +style was humble. They specified, “that this loan, without +inconvenience to any, is only intended for the service of the +public. Such private helps for public services which cannot +be deferred,” the king premises, had been often resorted to; +but this “being the <i>first time</i> that we have required anything +in this kind, we require but <i>that sum which few men would +deny a friend</i>.” As far as I can discover, the highest sum +assessed from great personages was twenty pounds! The +king was willing to suffer any mortification, even that of a +charitable solicitation, rather than endure the obdurate insults +of parliament! All donations were received, from ten pounds +to five shillings: this was the mockery of an alms-basket! +Yet with contributions and savings so trivial, and exacted +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page451" id="page451"></a>451</span> +with such a warm appeal to their feelings, was the king to +send out a fleet with ten thousand men—to take Cadiz!</p> + +<p>This expedition, like so many similar attempts from the +days of Charles the First to those of the great Lord Chatham, +and to our own—concluded in a nullity! Charles, disappointed +in this predatory attempt, in despair called his <i>second</i> +parliament—as he says, “in the midst of his necessities—and +to learn from them how he was to frame his course and +counsels.”</p> + +<p>The Commons, as duteously as ever, profess that “No +king was ever dearer to his people, and that they really +intend to assist his majesty in such a way as may make him +safe at home and feared abroad”—but it was to be on condition +that he would be graciously pleased to accept “the +information and advice of parliament in discovering the causes +of the great evils, and redress their grievances.” The king +accepted this “as a satisfactory answer;” but Charles comprehended +their drift—“You specially aim at the Duke of +Buckingham; what he hath done to change your minds I +wot not.” The style of the king now first betrays angered +feelings; the secret cause of the uncomplying conduct of the +Commons was hatred of the favourite—but the king saw that +they designed to control the executive government, and he +could ascribe their antipathy to Buckingham but to the +capriciousness of popular favour; for not long ago he had +heard Buckingham hailed as “their saviour.” In the zeal +and firmness of his affections, Charles always considered that +he himself was aimed at in the person of his confidant, his +companion, and his minister!</p> + +<p>Some of “the bold speakers,” as the heads of the opposition +are frequently designated in the manuscript letters, +have now risen into notice. Sir John Eliot, Dr. Turner, Sir +Dudley Digges, Mr. Clement Coke, poured themselves forth +in a vehement, not to say seditious style, with invectives +more daring than had ever before thundered in the House of +Commons! The king now told them—“I come to show +your errors, and, as I may call it, <i>unparliamentary proceedings +of parliament</i>.” The lord keeper then assured them, +that “when the irregular humours of <i>some particular persons</i> +were settled, the king would hear and answer all just +grievances; but the king would have them also to know +that he was equally jealous to the contempt of his royal +rights, which his majesty would not suffer to be violated by +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page452" id="page452"></a>452</span> +any pretended course of parliamentary liberty. The king +considered the parliament as his council; but there was a +difference between councilling and controlling, and between +liberty and the abuse of liberty.” He finished by noticing +their extraordinary proceedings in their impeachment of +Buckingham. The king, resuming his speech, remarkably +reproached the parliament—</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>Now that you have all things according to your wishes, and that <i>I am +so far engaged that you think there is no retreat, now you begin to set the +dice, and make your own game</i>. But I pray you be not deceived; it is +not a parliamentary way, nor is it a way to deal with a king. Mr. Clement +Coke told you, “It was better to be eaten up by a foreign enemy +than to be destroyed at home!” Indeed, I think it more honour for a king +to be invaded and almost destroyed by a foreign enemy than to <i>be despised +by his own subjects</i>.</p> +</div> + +<p>The king concluded by asserting his privilege to call or to +forbid parliaments.</p> + +<p>The style of “the bold speakers” appeared at least as early +as in April; I trace their spirit in letters of the times, which +furnish facts and expressions that do not appear in our printed +documents.</p> + +<p>Among the earliest of our patriots, and finally the great +victim of his exertions, was Sir John Eliot, vice-admiral of +Devonshire. He, in a tone which “rolled back to Jove his +own bolts,” and startled even the writer, who was himself +biassed to the popular party, “made a resolute, I doubt +whether a timely, speech.” He adds Eliot asserted that +“They came not thither either to do what the king should +command them, nor to abstain when he forbade them; they +came to continue constant, and to maintain their privileges. +They would not give their posterity a cause to curse them +for losing their privileges by restraint, which their forefathers +had left them.”<a name="FnAnchor_287" id="FnAnchor_287" href="#Footnote_287"><span class="sp">287</span></a></p> + +<p>On the 8th of May the impeachment of the duke was +opened by Sir Dudley Digges, who compared the duke to a +meteor exhaled out of putrid matter. He was followed by +Glanville, Selden, and others. On this first day the duke +sat out-facing his accusers and out-braving their accusations, +which the more highly exasperated the house.<a name="FnAnchor_288" id="FnAnchor_288" href="#Footnote_288"><span class="sp">288</span></a> On the following +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page453" id="page453"></a>453</span> +day the duke was absent, when the epilogue to this +mighty piece was elaborately delivered by Sir John Eliot, +with a force of declamation and a boldness of personal allusion +which have not been surpassed in the invectives of the +modern Junius.</p> + +<p>Eliot, after expatiating on the favourite’s ambition in procuring +and getting into his hands the greatest offices of +strength and power in the kingdom, and the means by which +he had obtained them, drew a picture of “the inward character +of the duke’s mind.” The duke’s plurality of offices +reminded him “of a chimerical beast called by the ancients +<i>Stellionatus</i>, so blurred, so spotted, so full of foul lines that +they knew not what to make of it! In setting up himself +he hath set upon the kingdom’s revenues, the fountain of +supply, and the nerves of the land. He intercepts, consumes, +and exhausts the revenues of the crown; and, by emptying +the veins the blood should run in, he hath cast the kingdom +into a high consumption.” He descends to criminate the +duke’s magnificent tastes; he who had something of a congenial +nature; for Eliot was a man of fine literature. “Infinite +sums of money, and mass of land exceeding the value of +money, contributions in parliament have been heaped upon +him; and how have they been employed? Upon costly +furniture, sumptuous feasting, and magnificent building, <i>the +visible evidence of the express exhausting of the state</i>!”</p> + +<p>Eliot eloquently closes—</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>Your lordships have an <i>idea</i> of the man, what he is in himself, what +in his affections! You have seen his power, and some, I fear, have felt it. +You have known his practice, and have heard the effects. Being such, +what is he in reference to king and state; how compatible or incompatible +with either? In reference to the king, he must be styled the canker in his +treasure; in reference to the state the moth of all goodness. I can hardly +find him a parallel; but none were so like him as Sejanus, who is described +by Tacitus, <i>Audax; sui obtegens, in alios criminator; juxta +adulatio et superbia</i>. Sejanus’s pride was so excessive, as Tacitus saith, +that he neglected all councils, mixed his business and service with the +prince, seeming to confound their actions, and was often styled <i>Imperatoris +laborum socius</i>. Doth not this man the like? Ask England, Scotland, +and Ireland—and they will tell you! How lately and how often hath +this man commixed his actions in discourses with actions of the king’s! +My lords! I have done—you see the man!</p> +</div> + +<p>The parallel of the duke with Sejanus electrified the house; +and, as we shall see, touched Charles on a convulsive nerve.</p> + +<p>The king’s conduct on this speech was the beginning of his +troubles, and the first of his more open attempts to crush the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page454" id="page454"></a>454</span> +popular party. In the House of Lords the king defended the +duke, and informed them, “I have thought fit to take order +for the <i>punishing some insolent speeches</i> lately spoken.” I +find a piece of secret history enclosed in a letter, with a +solemn injunction that it might be burnt. “The king this +morning complained of Sir John Eliot for comparing the duke +to <i>Sejanus</i>, in which he said implicitly he must intend <i>me</i> +for <i>Tiberius</i>!” On that day the prologue and the epilogue +orators—Sir Dudley Digges, who had opened the impeachment +against the duke, and Sir John Eliot, who had closed +it—were called out of the house by two messengers, who +showed their warrants for committing them to the Tower.<a name="FnAnchor_289" id="FnAnchor_289" href="#Footnote_289"><span class="sp">289</span></a></p> + +<p>On this memorable day a philosophical politician might +have presciently marked the seed-plots of events, which not +many years afterwards were apparent to all men. The +passions of kings are often expatiated on; but, in the present +anti-monarchical period, the passions of parliaments are not +imaginable! The democratic party in our constitution, from +the meanest of motives, from their egotism, their vanity, and +their audacity, hate kings; they would have an abstract +being, a chimerical sovereign on the throne—like a statue, +the mere ornament of the place it fills,—and insensible, like a +statue, to the invectives they would heap on its pedestal!</p> + +<p>The commons, with a fierce spirit of reaction for the king’s +“punishing some insolent speeches,” at once sent up to the +lords for the commitment of the duke!<a name="FnAnchor_290" id="FnAnchor_290" href="#Footnote_290"><span class="sp">290</span></a> But when they +learnt the fate of the patriots, they instantaneously broke up! +In the afternoon they assembled in Westminster-hall, to +interchange their private sentiments on the fate of the two +imprisoned members, in sadness and indignation.<a name="FnAnchor_291" id="FnAnchor_291" href="#Footnote_291"><span class="sp">291</span></a></p> + +<p>The following day the commons met in their own house. +When the speaker reminded them of the usual business, they +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page455" id="page455"></a>455</span> +all cried out, “Sit down! sit down!” They would touch on +no business till they were “righted in their liberties!”<a name="FnAnchor_292" id="FnAnchor_292" href="#Footnote_292"><span class="sp">292</span></a> An +open committee of the whole house was formed, and no member +suffered to quit the house; but either they were at a loss +how to commence this solemn conference, or expressed their +indignation by a sullen silence. To soothe and subdue “the +bold speakers” was the unfortunate attempt of the vice-chamberlain, +Sir Dudley Carleton, who had long been one of +our foreign ambassadors; and who, having witnessed the +despotic governments on the continent, imagined that there was +no deficiency of liberty at home. “I find,” said the vice-chamberlain, +“by the great silence in this house, that it is a fit time +to be heard, if you will grant me the patience.” Alluding to +one of the king’s messages, where it was hinted that, if there +was “no correspondency between him and the parliament, he +should be forced to <i>use new counsels</i>,” “I pray you consider +what these new counsels are, and may be: I fear to declare +those I conceive!” However, Sir Dudley plainly hinted at +them, when he went on observing, that “when monarchs +began to know their own strength, and saw the turbulent +spirit of their <i>parliaments</i>, they had overthrown them in all +Europe, except here only with us.” Our old ambassador +drew an amusing picture of the effects of despotic governments, +in that of France—“If you knew the subjects in +foreign countries as well as myself, to see them look, not like +our nation, with store of flesh on their backs, but like so +many ghosts and not men, being nothing but skin and bones, +with some thin cover to their nakedness, and wearing only +wooden shoes on their feet, so that they cannot eat meat, or +wear good clothes, but they must pay the king for it; this is +a misery beyond expression, and that which we are yet free +from!” A long residence abroad had deprived Sir Dudley +Carleton of any sympathy with the high tone of freedom, and +the proud jealousy of their privileges, which, though yet unascertained, +undefined, and still often contested, was breaking +forth among the commons of England. It was fated that +the celestial spirit of our national freedom should not descend +among us in the form of the mystical dove!</p> + +<p>Hume observes on this speech, that “these imprudent suggestions +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page456" id="page456"></a>456</span> +rather gave warning than struck terror.” It was +evident that the event, which implied “new counsels,” meant +what subsequently was practised—the king governing without +a parliament! As for “the ghosts who wore wooden shoes,” +to which the house was congratulated that they had not <i>yet</i> +been reduced, they would infer that it was the more necessary +to provide against the possibility of such strange apparitions! +Hume truly observes, “The king reaped no further benefit +from this attempt than to exasperate the house still further.” +Some words, which the duke persisted in asserting had +dropped from Digges, were explained away, Digges declaring +that they had not been used by him; and it seems probable +that he was suffered to eat his words. Eliot was made of +“sterner stuff;” he abated not a jot of whatever he had +spoken of “that man,” as he affected to call Buckingham.</p> + +<p>The commons, whatever might be their patriotism, seem at +first to have been chiefly moved by a personal hatred of the +favourite;<a name="FnAnchor_293" id="FnAnchor_293" href="#Footnote_293"><span class="sp">293</span></a> and their real charges against him amounted to +little more than pretences and aggravations. The king, +whose personal affections were always strong, considered his +friend innocent; and there was a warm, romantic feature in +the character of the youthful monarch, which scorned to +sacrifice his faithful companion to his own interests, and to +immolate the minister to the clamours of the commons. +Subsequently, when the king did this in the memorable case +of the guiltless Strafford, it was the only circumstance which +weighed on his mind at the hour of his own sacrifice! Sir +Robert Cotton told a friend, on the day on which the king +went down to the house of lords, and committed the two +patriots, that “he had of late been often sent for to the king +and duke, and that the king’s affection towards him was very +admirable, and no whit lessened. Certainly,” he added, +“the king will never yield to the duke’s fall, being a young +man, resolute, magnanimous, and tenderly and firmly affectionate +where he takes.”<a name="FnAnchor_294" id="FnAnchor_294" href="#Footnote_294"><span class="sp">294</span></a> This authentic character of +Charles the First, by that intelligent and learned man, to +whom the nation owes the treasures of its antiquities, is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page457" id="page457"></a>457</span> +remarkable. Sir Robert Cotton, though holding no rank at +court, and in no respect of the duke’s party, was often consulted +by the king, and much in his secrets. How the king +valued the judgment of this acute and able adviser, acting on +it in direct contradiction and to the mortification of the +favourite, I shall probably have occasion to show.</p> + +<p>The commons did not decline in the subtle spirit with +which they had begun; they covertly aimed at once to subjugate +the sovereign, and to expel the minister! A remonstrance +was prepared against the levying of tonnage and +poundage, which constituted half of the crown revenues; and +a petition, “equivalent to a command,” for removing Buckingham +from his majesty’s person and councils.<a name="FnAnchor_295" id="FnAnchor_295" href="#Footnote_295"><span class="sp">295</span></a> The remonstrance +is wrought up with a high spirit of invective +against “the unbridled ambition of the duke,” whom they +class “among those vipers and pests to their king and commonwealth, +as so expressly styled by your most royal father.” +They request that “he would be pleased to remove this person +from access to his sacred presence, and that he would not +balance this one man with all these things, and with the +affairs of the Christian world.”</p> + +<p>The king hastily dissolved this <i>second</i> parliament; and +when the lords petitioned for its continuance, he warmly and +angrily exclaimed, “Not a moment longer!” It was dissolved +in June, 1626.</p> + +<p>The patriots abandoned their sovereign to his fate, and +retreated home sullen, indignant, and ready to conspire +among themselves for the assumption of their disputed or +their defrauded liberties. They industriously dispersed their +remonstrance, and the king replied by a declaration; but an +attack is always more vigorous than a defence. The declaration +is spiritless, and evidently composed under suppressed +feelings, which, perhaps, knew not how to shape themselves. +The “Remonstrance” was commanded everywhere to be +burnt; and the effect which it produced on the people we +shall shortly witness.</p> + +<p>The king was left amidst the most pressing exigencies. At +the dissolution of the first parliament he had been compelled +to practise a humiliating economy. Hume has alluded to the +numerous wants of the young monarch; but he certainly was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page458" id="page458"></a>458</span> +not acquainted with the king’s extreme necessities. His coronation +seemed rather a private than a public ceremony. To +save the expenses of the procession from the Tower through +the city to Whitehall, that customary pomp was omitted; +and the reason alleged was “to save the charge for more +noble undertakings!” that is, for means to carry on the +Spanish war without supplies! But now the most extraordinary +changes appeared at court. The king mortgaged his +lands in Cornwall to the aldermen and companies of London. +A rumour spread that the small pension list must be revoked; +and the royal distress was carried so far, that all the tables at +court were laid down, and the courtiers put on board-wages! +I have seen a letter which gives an account of “the funeral +supper at Whitehall, whereat twenty-three tables were buried, +being from henceforth converted to board-wages;” and there +I learn, that “since this dissolving of house-keeping, his +majesty is but slenderly attended.” Another writer, who +describes himself to be only a looker-on, regrets, that while the +men of the law spent ten thousand pounds on a single masque, +they did not rather make the king rich; and adds, “I see a +rich commonwealth, a rich people, and the crown poor!” +This strange poverty of the court of Charles seems to have +escaped the notice of our general historians. Charles was +now to victual his fleet with the savings of the board-wages! +for this “surplusage” was taken into account!</p> + +<p>The fatal descent on the Isle of Rhé sent home Buckingham +discomfited, and spread dismay through the nation. The +best blood had been shed from the wanton bravery of an +unskilful and romantic commander, who, forced to retreat, +would march, but not fly, and was the very last man to quit +the ground which he could not occupy. In the eagerness of +his hopes, Buckingham had once dropped, as I learn, that +“before Midsummer he should be more honoured and beloved +by the commons than ever was the Earl of Essex:” and thus +he rocked his own and his master’s imagination in cradling +fancies. This volatile hero, who had felt the capriciousness +of popularity, thought that it was as easily regained as it was +easily lost; and that a chivalric adventure would return to +him that favour which at this moment might have been +denied to all the wisdom, the policy, and the arts of an experienced +statesman.</p> + +<p>The king was now involved in more intricate and desperate +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page459" id="page459"></a>459</span> +measures; and the nation was thrown into a state of agitation, +of which the page of popular history yields but a faint +impression.</p> + +<p>The spirit of insurrection was stalking forth in the metropolis +and in the country. The scenes which I am about to +describe occurred at the close of 1626: an inattentive reader +might easily mistake them for the revolutionary scenes of +1640. It was an unarmed rebellion.</p> + +<p>An army and a navy had returned unpaid, and sore with +defeat. The town was scoured by mutinous seamen and +soldiers, roving even into the palace of the sovereign. Soldiers +without pay form a society without laws. A band of captains +rushed into the duke’s apartment as he sat at dinner; and +when reminded by the duke of a late proclamation, forbidding +all soldiers coming to court in troops, on pain of hanging, +they replied, that “Whole companies were ready to be hanged +with them! that the king might do as he pleased with their +lives; for that their reputation was lost, and their honour forfeited, +for want of their salary to pay their debts.” When a +petition was once presented, and it was inquired who was the +composer of it, a vast body tremendously shouted “All! all!” +A multitude, composed of seamen, met at Tower-hill, and set +a lad on a scaffold, who, with an “O yes!” proclaimed that +King Charles had promised their pay, or the duke had been +on the scaffold himself! These, at least, were grievances +more apparent to the sovereign than those vague ones so +perpetually repeated by his unfaithful commons. But what +remained to be done? It was only a choice of difficulties +between the disorder and the remedy. At the moment, the +duke got up what he called “The council of the sea;” was +punctual at its first meeting, and appointed three days in +a week to sit—but broke his appointment the second day—they +found him always otherwise engaged; and “the council +of the sea” turned out to be one of those shadowy expedients +which only lasts while it acts on the imagination. It is said +that thirty thousand pounds would have quieted these disorganised +troops; but the exchequer could not supply so mean +a sum. Buckingham in despair, and profuse of life, was planning +a fresh expedition for the siege of Rochelle; a new army +was required. He swore, “if there was money in the kingdom +it should be had!”</p> + +<p>Now began that series of contrivances, and artifices, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page460" id="page460"></a>460</span> +persecutions to levy money. Forced loans, or pretended free-gifts, +kindled a resisting spirit. It was urged by the court +party, that the sums required were, in fact, much less in +amount than the usual grants of subsidies; but the cry, in +return for “a subsidy,” was always “a Parliament!” Many +were heavily fined for declaring that “they knew no law, +besides that of Parliament, to compel men to give away their +own goods.” The king ordered that those who would not +subscribe to the loans should not be forced; but it seems +there were orders in council to specify those householders’ +names who would not subscribe; and it further appears that +those who would not pay in purse should in person. Those +who were pressed were sent to the <i>dépôt</i>; but either the soldiers +would not receive these good citizens, or they found easy +means to return. Every mode which the government invented +seems to have been easily frustrated, either by the intrepidity +of the parties themselves, or by that general understanding +which enabled the people to play into one another’s hands. +When the common council had consented that an imposition +should be laid, the citizens called the Guildhall the <i>Yield-all</i>! +And whenever they levied a distress, in consequence of a +refusal to pay it, nothing was to be found but “Old ends, +such as nobody cared for.” Or if a severer officer seized on +commodities, it was in vain to offer pennyworths where no +customer was to be had. A wealthy merchant, who had formerly +been a cheesemonger, was summoned to appear before +the privy council, and required to lend the king two hundred +pounds, or else to go himself to the army, and serve it with +cheese. It was not supposed that a merchant, so aged and +wealthy, would submit to resume his former mean trade; but +the old man, in the spirit of the times, preferred the hard +alternative, and balked the new project of finance, by shipping +himself with his cheese. At Hicks’s Hall the duke and +the Earl of Dorset sat to receive the loans; but the duke +threatened, and the earl affected to treat with levity, men +who came before them with all the suppressed feelings of +popular indignation. The Earl of Dorset asking a fellow who +pleaded inability to lend money, of what trade he was, and +being answered “a tailor,” said: “Put down your name for +such a sum; one snip will make amends for all!” The tailor +quoted scripture abundantly, and shook the bench with +laughter or with rage by his anathemas, till he was put fast +into a messenger’s hands. This was one Ball, renowned +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page461" id="page461"></a>461</span> +through the parish of St. Clement’s; and not only a tailor, +but a prophet. Twenty years after, tailors and prophets employed +messengers themselves!<a name="FnAnchor_296" id="FnAnchor_296" href="#Footnote_296"><span class="sp">296</span></a></p> + +<p>These are instances drawn from the inferior classes of +society; but the same spirit actuated the country gentlemen: +one instance represents many. George Gatesby, of Northamptonshire, +being committed to prison as a loan-recusant, +alleged, among other reasons for his non-compliance, that +“he considered that this loan might become a precedent; +and that every precedent, he was told by the lord president, +was a flower of the prerogative.” The lord president told +him that “he lied!” Gatesby shook his head, observing, “I +come not here to contend with your lordship, but to suffer!” +Lord Suffolk then interposing, entreated the lord president +would not too far urge his kinsman, Mr. Gatesby. This +country gentleman waived any kindness he might owe to +kindred, declaring, that “he would remain master of his own +purse.” The prisons were crowded with these loan-recusants, +as well as with those who had sinned in the freedom of their +opinions. The country gentlemen insured their popularity +by their committals; and many stout resistors of the loans +were returned in the following parliament against their own +wishes.<a name="FnAnchor_297" id="FnAnchor_297" href="#Footnote_297"><span class="sp">297</span></a> The friends of these knights and country gentlemen +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page462" id="page462"></a>462</span> +flocked to their prisons; and when they petitioned for +more liberty and air during the summer, it was policy to +grant their request. But it was also policy that they should +not reside in their own counties: this relaxation was only +granted to those who, living in the south, consented to +sojourn in the north; while the dwellers in the north were +to be lodged in the south!</p> + +<p>In the country the disturbed scenes assumed even a more +alarming appearance than in London. They not only would +not provide money, but when money was offered by government, +the men refused to serve; a conscription was not then +known: and it became a question, long debated in the privy +council, whether those who would not accept press-money +should not be tried by martial law. I preserve in the note a +curious piece of secret information.<a name="FnAnchor_298" id="FnAnchor_298" href="#Footnote_298"><span class="sp">298</span></a> The great novelty and +symptom of the times was the scattering of letters. Sealed letters, +addressed to the leading men of the country, were found +hanging on bushes; anonymous letters were dropped in shops +and streets, which gave notice that the day was fast approaching +when “Such a work was to be wrought in England as +never was the like, which will be for our good.” Addresses +multiplied “To all true-hearted Englishmen!” A groom +detected in spreading such seditious papers, and brought into +the inexorable Star-chamber, was fined three thousand pounds! +The leniency of the punishment was rather regretted by two +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page463" id="page463"></a>463</span> +bishops; if it was ever carried into execution, the unhappy +man must have remained a groom who never after crossed a +horse!</p> + +<p>There is one difficult duty of an historian, which is too +often passed over by the party-writer; it is to pause whenever +he feels himself warming with the passions of the multitude, +or becoming the blind apologist of arbitrary power. +An historian must transform himself into the characters +which he is representing, and throw himself back into the +times which he is opening; possessing himself of their feelings +and tracing their actions, he may then at least hope to discover +truths which may equally interest the honourable men +of all parties.</p> + +<p>This reflection has occurred from the very difficulty into +which I am now brought. Shall we at once condemn the +king for these arbitrary measures? It is, however, very +possible that they were never in his contemplation! Involved +in inextricable difficulties, according to his feelings, he was +betrayed by parliament; and he scorned to barter their favour +by that vulgar traffic of treachery—the immolation of the +single victim who had long attached his personal affections; +a man at least as much envied as hated! that hard lesson had +not yet been inculcated on a British sovereign, that his bosom +must be a blank for all private affection; and had that lesson +been taught, the character of Charles was destitute of all +aptitude for it. To reign without a refractory parliament, +and to find among the people themselves subjects more loyal +than their representatives, was an experiment—and a fatal +one! Under Charles, the liberty of the subject, when the +necessities of the state pressed on the sovereign, was matter +of discussion, disputed as often as assumed; the divines were +proclaiming as rebellious those who refused their contributions +to aid the government;<a name="FnAnchor_299" id="FnAnchor_299" href="#Footnote_299"><span class="sp">299</span></a> and the law-sages alleged precedents +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page464" id="page464"></a>464</span> +for raising supplies in the manner which Charles had adopted. +Selden, whose learned industry was as vast as the amplitude +of his mind, had to seek for the freedom of the subject in the +dust of the records of the Tower—and the omnipotence of +parliaments, if any human assembly may be invested with +such supernatural greatness, had not yet awakened the hoar +antiquity of popular liberty.</p> + +<p>A general spirit of insurrection, rather than insurrection +itself, had suddenly raised some strange appearances through +the kingdom. “The remonstrance” of parliament had unquestionably +quickened the feelings of the people; but yet +the lovers of peace and the reverencers of royalty were not a +few; money and men were procured to send out the army +and the fleet. More concealed causes may be suspected to +have been at work. Many of the heads of the opposition +were pursuing some secret machinations; about this time I +find many mysterious stories—indications of secret societies—and +other evidences of the intrigues of the popular party.</p> + +<p>Little matters, sometimes more important than they +appear, are suitable to our minute sort of history. In +November, 1626, a rumour spread that the king was to be +visited by an ambassador from “the President of the Society +of the Rosycross.” He was indeed an heteroclite ambassador, +for he is described “as a youth with never a hair on +his face;” in fact, a child who was to conceal the mysterious +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page465" id="page465"></a>465</span> +personage which he was for a moment to represent. He +appointed Sunday afternoon to come to court, attended by +thirteen coaches. He was to proffer to his majesty, provided +the king accepted his advice, three millions to put into his +coffers; and by his secret councils he was to unfold matters +of moment and secrecy. A Latin letter was delivered to +“David Ramsey of the clock,” to hand over to the king: a +copy of it has been preserved in a letter of the times; but it +is so unmeaning, that it could have had no effect on the king, +who, however, declared that he would not admit him to an +audience, and that if he could tell where “the President of +the Rosycross” was to be found, unless he made good his +offer, he would hang him at the court-gates. This served the +town and country for talk till the appointed Sunday had +passed over, and no ambassador was visible! Some considered +this as the plotting of crazy brains, but others imagined it to +be an attempt to speak with the king in private, on matters +respecting the duke.</p> + +<p>There was also discovered, by letters received from Rome, +“a whole parliament of Jesuits sitting” in “a fair-hanged +vault” in Clerkenwell.<a name="FnAnchor_300" id="FnAnchor_300" href="#Footnote_300"><span class="sp">300</span></a> Sir John Cooke would have alarmed +the parliament, that on St. Joseph’s day these were to have +occupied their places; ministers are supposed sometimes to +have conspirators for “the nonce;” Sir Dudley Digges, in +the opposition, as usual, would not believe in any such political +necromancers; but such a party were discovered; Cooke +would have insinuated that the French ambassador had persuaded +Louis that the divisions between Charles and his +people had been raised by his ingenuity, and was rewarded +for the intelligence; this is not unlikely. After all, the parliament +of Jesuits might have been a secret college of the +order; for, among other things seized on, was a considerable +library.</p> + +<p>When the parliament was sitting, a sealed letter was thrown +under the door, with this superscription, <i>Cursed be the man +that finds this letter, and delivers it not to the House of +Commons</i>. The Serjeant-at-Arms delivered it to the Speaker, +who would not open it till the house had chosen a committee +of twelve members to inform them whether it was fit to be +read. Sir Edward Coke, after having read two or three lines, +stopped, and according to my authority, “durst read no further, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page466" id="page466"></a>466</span> +but immediately sealing it, the committee thought fit +to send it to the king, who they say, on reading it through, +cast it into the fire, and sent the House of Commons thanks +for their wisdom in not publishing it, and for the discretion +of the committee in so far tendering his honour, as not to +read it out, when they once perceived that it touched his +majesty.”<a name="FnAnchor_301" id="FnAnchor_301" href="#Footnote_301"><span class="sp">301</span></a></p> + +<p>Others, besides the freedom of speech, introduced another +form, “A speech without doors,” which was distributed to +the members of the house. It is in all respects a remarkable +one, occupying ten folio pages in the first volume of Rushworth.</p> + +<p>Some in office appear to have employed extraordinary proceedings +of a similar nature. An intercepted letter written +from the archduchess to the King of Spain, was delivered by +Sir H. Martyn at the council-board on New Year’s-day, who +found in it some papers relating to the navy. The duke +immediately said he would show it to the king; and, accompanied +by several lords, went into his majesty’s closet. The +letter was written in French; it advised the Spanish court +to make a sudden war with England, for several reasons; his +majesty’s want of skill to govern of himself; the weakness +of his council in not daring to acquaint him with the truth; +want of money; disunion of the subjects’ hearts from their +prince, &c. The king only observed, that the writer forgot +that the archduchess writes to the King of Spain in Spanish, +and sends her letters overland.</p> + +<p>I have to add an important fact. I find certain evidence +that the heads of the opposition were busily active in thwarting +the measures of government. Dr. Samuel Turner, the +member for Shrewsbury, called on Sir John Cage, and desired +to speak to him privately; his errand was to entreat him to +resist the loan, and to use his power with others to obtain +this purpose. The following information comes from Sir +John Cage himself. Dr. Turner “being desired to stay, he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page467" id="page467"></a>467</span> +would not a minute, but instantly took horse, saying he had +more places to go to, and time pressed; <i>that there was a +company of them had divided themselves into all parts, every +one having had a quarter assigned to him, to perform this +service for the commonwealth</i>.” This was written in November, +1626. This unquestionably amounts to a secret confederacy +watching out of parliament as well as in; and those +strange appearances of popular defection exhibited in the +country, which I have described, were in great part the consequences +of the machinations and active intrigues of the +popular party.<a name="FnAnchor_302" id="FnAnchor_302" href="#Footnote_302"><span class="sp">302</span></a></p> + +<p>The king was not disposed to try a <i>third</i> parliament. The +favourite, perhaps to regain that popular favour which his +greatness had lost him, is said in private letters to have been +twice on his knees to intercede for a new one. The elections, +however, foreboded no good; and a letter-writer connected +with the court, in giving an account of them, prophetically +declared, “we are without question undone!”</p> + +<p>The king’s speech opens with the spirit which he himself +felt, but which he could not communicate:—</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>“The times are for action: wherefore, for example’s sake, I mean not +to spend much time in words! If you, which God forbid, should not do +your duties in contributing what the state at this time needs, I must, in +discharge of my conscience, <i>use those other means</i> which God hath put into +my hands, to save that, which the follies of some particular men may +otherwise hazard to lose.” He added, with the loftiness of ideal majesty—“Take +not this as a threatening, for I scorn to threaten any but my +equals; but as an admonition from him, that, both out of nature and +duty, hath most care of your preservations and prosperities:” and in a +more friendly tone he requested them “To remember a thing to the end +that we may forget it. You may imagine that I come here with a doubt +of success, remembering the distractions of the last meeting; but I assure +you that I shall very easily forget and forgive what is past.”</p> +</div> + +<p>A most crowded house now met, composed of the wealthiest +men; for a lord, who probably considered that property was +the true balance of power, estimated that they were able to +buy the upper-house, his majesty only excepted! The aristocracy +of wealth had already begun to be felt. Some ill +omens of the parliament appeared. Sir Robert Philips moved +for a general fast: “we had one for the plague which it +pleased God to deliver us from, and we have now so many +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page468" id="page468"></a>468</span> +plagues of the commonwealth about his majesty’s person, +that we have need of such, an act of humiliation.” Sir +Edward Coke held it most necessary, “because there are, I +fear, some devils that will not be cast out but by fasting and +prayer.”</p> + +<p>Many of the speeches in “this great council of the kingdom” +are as admirable pieces of composition as exist in the +language. Even the court-party were moderate, extenuating +rather than pleading for the late necessities. But the evil +spirit of party, however veiled, was walking amidst them all: +a letter-writer represents the natural state of feelings: “Some +of the parliament talk desperately; while others, of as high +a course to enforce money if they yield not!” Such is +the perpetual action and reaction of public opinion; when +one side will give too little, the other is sure to desire too +much!</p> + +<p>The parliament granted subsidies.—Sir John Cooke having +brought up the report to the king, Charles expressed great +satisfaction, and declared that he felt now more happy than +any of his predecessors. Inquiring of Sir John by how many +voices he had carried it? Cooke replied, “But by one!”—at +which his majesty seemed appalled, and asked how many +were against him? Cooke answered, “None! the unanimity +of the House made all but <i>one voice</i>!” at which his majesty +wept!<a name="FnAnchor_303" id="FnAnchor_303" href="#Footnote_303"><span class="sp">303</span></a> If Charles shed tears, or as Cooke himself expresses +it, in his report to the House, “was much affected,” the +emotion was profound: for on all sudden emergencies Charles +displayed an almost unparalleled command over the exterior +violence of his feelings.</p> + +<p>The favourite himself sympathised with the tender joy of +his royal master; and, before the king, voluntarily offered +himself as a peace-sacrifice. In his speech at the council-table, +he entreats the king that he, who had the honour to be +his majesty’s favourite, might now give up that title to +them.—A warm genuine feeling probably prompted these +words:—</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>“To open my heart, please to pardon me a word more; I must confess +I have long lived in pain, sleep hath given me no rest, favours and fortune +no content; such have been my secret sorrows, to be thought the man of +separation, and that divided the king from his people, and them from +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page469" id="page469"></a>469</span> +him; but I hope it shall appear they were some mistaken minds that +would have made me the evil spirit that walketh between a good master +and a loyal people.”<a name="FnAnchor_304" id="FnAnchor_304" href="#Footnote_304"><span class="sp">304</span></a></p> +</div> + +<p>Buckingham added, that for the good of his country he +was willing to sacrifice his honours; and since his plurality +of offices had been so strongly excepted against,<a name="FnAnchor_305" id="FnAnchor_305" href="#Footnote_305"><span class="sp">305</span></a> that he was +content to give up the Master of the Horse to Marquess +Hamilton, and the Warden of the Cinque Ports to the Earl +of Carlisle; and was willing that the parliament should appoint +another admiral for all services at sea.</p> + +<p>It is as certain as human evidence can authenticate, that +on the king’s side all was grateful affection; and that on +Buckingham’s there was a most earnest desire to win the +favours of parliament; and what are stronger than all human +evidence, those unerring principles in human nature itself, +which are the secret springs of the heart, were working in the +breasts of the king and his minister; for neither were tyrannical. +The king undoubtedly sighed to meet parliament with the love +which he had at first professed; he declared that “he should +now rejoice to meet with his people often.” Charles had no +innate tyranny in his constitutional character; and Buckingham +at times was susceptible of misery amidst his greatness, +as I have elsewhere shown.<a name="FnAnchor_306" id="FnAnchor_306" href="#Footnote_306"><span class="sp">306</span></a> It could not have been +imagined that the luckless favourite, on the present occasion, +should have served as a pretext to set again in motion the +chaos of evil! Can any candid mind suppose that the king +or the duke meditated the slightest insult on the patriotic +party, or would in the least have disturbed the apparent +reconciliation! Yet it so happened! Secretary Cooke, at the +close of his report of the king’s acceptance of the subsidies, +mentioned that the duke had fervently beseeched the king to +grant the house all their desires! Perhaps the mention of the +duke’s name was designed to ingratiate him into their +toleration.</p> + +<p>Sir John Eliot caught fire at the very name of the duke, +and vehemently checked the secretary for having dared to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page470" id="page470"></a>470</span> +introduce it; declaring, that “they knew of no other distinction +but of king and subjects. By intermingling a subject’s +speech with the king’s message, he seemed to derogate +from the honour and majesty of a king. Nor would it +become any subject to bear himself in such a fashion, as if no +grace ought to descend from the king to the people, nor any +loyalty ascend from the people to the king, but through him +only.”</p> + +<p>This speech was received by many with acclamations; +some cried out, “Well spoken, Sir John Eliot!”<a name="FnAnchor_307" id="FnAnchor_307" href="#Footnote_307"><span class="sp">307</span></a> It marks +the heated state of the political atmosphere, where even +the lightest coruscation of a hated name made it burst into +flames!</p> + +<p>I have often suspected that Sir John Eliot, by his vehement +personality, must have borne a personal antipathy to +Buckingham. I have never been enabled to ascertain the +fact; but I find that he has left in manuscript a collection of +satires, or Verses, being chiefly invectives against the Duke +of Buckingham, to whom he bore a bitter and most inveterate +enmity. Could we sometimes discover the motives of those +who first head political revolutions, we should find how greatly +personal hatreds have actuated them in deeds which have come +down to us in the form of patriotism, and how often the +revolutionary spirit disguises its private passions by its public +conduct.<a name="FnAnchor_308" id="FnAnchor_308" href="#Footnote_308"><span class="sp">308</span></a></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page471" id="page471"></a>471</span></p> + +<p>But the supplies, which had raised tears from the fervent +gratitude of Charles, though voted, were yet withheld. They +resolved that grievances and supplies go hand in hand. The +commons entered deeply into constitutional points of the +highest magnitude. The curious erudition of Selden and +Coke was combined with the ardour of patriots who merit no +inferior celebrity, though not having consecrated their names +by their laborious literature, we only discover them in the +obscure annals of parliament. To our history, composed by +writers of different principles, I refer the reader for the arguments +of lawyers, and the spirit of the commons. My secret +history is only its supplement.</p> + +<p>The king’s prerogative, and the subject’s liberty, were +points hard to distinguish, and were established but by contest. +Sometimes the king imagined that “the house pressed +not upon the abuses of power, but only upon power itself.” +Sometimes the commons doubted whether they had anything of +their own to give; while their property and their persons +seemed equally insecure. Despotism seemed to stand on one +side, and Faction on the other—Liberty trembled!</p> + +<p>The conference of the commons before the lords, on the +freedom and person of the subject, was admirably conducted +by Selden and by Coke. When the king’s attorney affected +to slight the learned arguments and precedents, pretending to +consider them as mutilated out of the records, and as proving +rather against the commons than for them, Sir Edward Coke +rose, affirming to the house, upon his skill in the law, that +“it lay not under Mr. Attorney’s cap to answer any one of +their arguments.” Selden declared that he had written out +all the records from the Tower, the Exchequer, and the King’s +Bench, with his own hand; and “would engage his head, Mr. +Attorney should not find in all these archives a single precedent +omitted.” Mr. Littleton said, that he had examined +every one <i>syllabatim</i>, and whoever said they were mutilated +spoke false! Of so ambiguous and delicate a nature was then +the liberty of the subject, that it seems they considered it to +depend on precedents!</p> + +<p>A startling message, on the 12th of April, was sent by the +king for despatch of business. The house, struck with +astonishment, desired to have it repeated. They remained sad +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page472" id="page472"></a>472</span> +and silent. No one cared to open the debate. A whimsical +politician, Sir Francis Nethersole,<a name="FnAnchor_309" id="FnAnchor_309" href="#Footnote_309"><span class="sp">309</span></a> suddenly started up, +entreating leave to tell his last night’s dream. Some laughing +at him, he observed, that “kingdoms had been saved by +dreams!” Allowed to proceed, he said, “he saw two good +pastures; a flock of sheep was in the one, and a bell-wether +alone in the other; a great ditch was between them, and a +narrow bridge over the ditch.”</p> + +<p>He was interrupted by the Speaker, who told him that it +stood not with the gravity of the house to listen to dreams; +but the house was inclined to hear him out.</p> + +<p>“The sheep would sometimes go over to the bell-wether, +or the bell-wether to the sheep. Once both met on the narrow +bridge, and the question was who should go back, since both +could not go on without danger. One sheep gave counsel that +the sheep on the bridge should lie on their bellies, and let the +bell-wether go over their backs. The application of this +dilemma he left to the house.”<a name="FnAnchor_310" id="FnAnchor_310" href="#Footnote_310"><span class="sp">310</span></a> It must be confessed that +the bearing of the point was more ambiguous than some of +the important ones that formed the matters of their debates. +<i>Davus sum, non Œdipus!</i> It is probable that this fantastical +politician did not vote with the opposition; for Eliot, Wentworth, +and Coke, protested against the interpretation of +dreams in the house!</p> + +<p>When the attorney-general moved that the liberties of the +subject might be moderated, to reconcile the differences +between themselves and the sovereign, Sir Edward Coke +observed, that “the true mother would never consent to the +dividing of her child.” On this, Buckingham swore that Coke +intimated that the king, his master, was the prostitute of the +state. Coke protested against the misinterpretation. The +dream of Nethersole, and the metaphor of Coke, were alike +dangerous in parliamentary discussion.</p> + +<p>In a manuscript letter it is said that the House of Commons +sat four days without speaking or doing anything. On the +first of May, Secretary Cooke delivered a message, asking +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page473" id="page473"></a>473</span> +whether they would rely upon the <i>king’s word</i>? This question +was followed by a long silence. Several speeches are +reported in the letters of the times, which are not in Rushworth. +Sir Nathaniel Rich observed that, “confident as he +was of the royal word, what did any indefinite word ascertain?” +Pym said, “We have his majesty’s coronation oath +to maintain the laws of England; what need we then take +his word?” He proposed to move “Whether we should +take the king’s word or no.” This was resisted by Secretary +Cooke; “What would they say in foreign parts, if the people +of England would not trust their king?” He desired the +house to call Pym to order; on which Pym replied, “Truly, +Mr. Speaker, I am just of the same opinion I was; viz., that +the king’s oath was as powerful as his word.” Sir John +Eliot moved that it be put to the question, “because they +that would have it, do urge us to that point.” Sir Edward +Coke on this occasion made a memorable speech, of which the +following passage is not given in Rushworth:—</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>“We sit now in parliament, and therefore must take his <i>majesty’s word +no otherwise than in a parliamentary way</i>; that is, of a matter agreed on +by both houses—his majesty sitting on his throne in his robes, with his +crown on his head, and sceptre in his hand, and in full parliament; and +his royal assent being entered upon record, <i>in perpetuam rei memoriam</i>. +This was <i>the royal word of a king in parliament</i>, and not a word delivered +in a chamber, and out of the mouth of a secretary at the second +hand; therefore I motion, that the House of Commons, <i>more majorum</i>, +should draw up a petition, <i>de droict</i>, to his majesty; which, being confirmed +by both houses, and assented unto by his majesty, will be as firm an +act as any. Not that I distrust the king, but that I cannot take his trust +but in a parliamentary way.”<a name="FnAnchor_311" id="FnAnchor_311" href="#Footnote_311"><span class="sp">311</span></a></p> +</div> + +<p>In this speech of Sir Edward Coke we find the first mention, +in the legal style, of the ever-memorable “Petition of +Right,” which two days after was finished. The reader must +pursue its history among the writers of opposite parties.</p> + +<p>On Tuesday, June 5, a royal message announced that on +the 11th the present sessions would close. This utterly disconcerted +the commons. Religious men considered it as a +judicial visitation for the sins of the people; others raged with +suppressed feelings; they counted up all the disasters which +had of late occurred, all which were charged to one man: +they knew not, at a moment so urgent, when all their liberties +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page474" id="page474"></a>474</span> +seemed at stake, whether the commons should fly to the lords, +or to the king. Sir John Eliot said, that as they intended to +furnish his majesty with money, it was proper that he should +give them time to supply him with counsel: he was renewing +his old attacks on the duke, when he was suddenly interrupted +by the Speaker, who, starting from the chair, declared that +he was commanded not to suffer him to proceed; Eliot sat +down in sullen silence. On Wednesday, Sir Edward Coke +broke the ice of debate. “That man,” said he of the duke, +“is the grievance of grievances! As for going to the lords,” +he added, “that is not <i>via regia</i>; our liberties are impeached—it +is our concern!”</p> + +<p>On Thursday, the vehement cry of Coke against Buckingham +was followed up; as, says a letter-writer, when one good +hound recovers the scent, the rest come in with a full cry.<a name="FnAnchor_312" id="FnAnchor_312" href="#Footnote_312"><span class="sp">312</span></a> +A sudden message from the king absolutely forbade them to +asperse any of his majesty’s ministers, otherwise his majesty +would instantly dissolve them.</p> + +<p>This fell like a thunderbolt; it struck terror and alarm; and +at the instant the House of Commons was changed into a scene +of tragical melancholy! All the opposite passions of human +nature—all the national evils which were one day to burst on +the country seemed, on a sudden, concentrated in this single +spot! Some were seen weeping, some were expostulating, +and some, in awful prophecy, were contemplating the future +ruin of the kingdom; while others, of more ardent daring, +were reproaching the timid, quieting the terrified, and infusing +resolution into the despairing. Many attempted to +speak, but were so strongly affected that their very utterance +failed them. The venerable Coke, overcome by his feelings +when he rose to speak, found his learned eloquence falter on +his tongue; he sat down, and tears were seen on his aged +cheeks. The name of the public enemy of the kingdom was +repeated, till the Speaker, with tears covering his face, declared +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page475" id="page475"></a>475</span> +he could no longer witness such a spectacle of woe in +the commons of England, and requested leave of absence for +half an hour. The speaker hastened to the king to inform +him of the state of the house. They were preparing a vote +against the duke, for being an arch-traitor and arch-enemy to +king and kingdom, and were busied on their “Remonstrance,” +when the Speaker, on his return, after an absence of two +hours, delivered his majesty’s message, that they should +adjourn till the next day.</p> + +<p>This was an awful interval of time; many trembled for the +issue of the next morning: one letter-writer calls it “that +black and doleful Thursday!” and another, writing before the +house met, observes, “What we shall expect this morning, +God of heaven knows; we shall meet timely.”<a name="FnAnchor_313" id="FnAnchor_313" href="#Footnote_313"><span class="sp">313</span></a></p> + +<p>Charles probably had been greatly affected by the report of +the Speaker, on the extraordinary state into which the whole +house had been thrown; for on Friday the royal message imported +that the king had never any intention of “barring them +from their right, but only to avoid scandal, that his ministers +should not be accused for their counsel to him; and still he +hoped that all Christendom might notice a sweet parting +between him and his people.” This message quieted the +house, but did not suspend their preparations for a “Remonstrance,” +which they had begun on the day they were +threatened with a dissolution.</p> + +<p>On Saturday, while they were still occupied on the “Remonstrance,” +unexpectedly, at four o’clock, the king came +to parliament, and the commons were called up. Charles +spontaneously came to reconcile himself to parliament. The +king now gave his second answer to the “Petition of +Right.” He said—“My maxim is, that the people’s liberties +strengthen the king’s prerogative; and the king’s prerogative +is to defend the people’s liberties. Read your +petition, and you shall have an answer that I am sure will +please you.”<a name="FnAnchor_314" id="FnAnchor_314" href="#Footnote_314"><span class="sp">314</span></a> They desired to have the ancient form of +their ancestors, “Soit droit fait come il est desyré,” and not +as the king had before given it, with any observation on it. +Charles now granted this; declaring that his second answer +to the petition in nowise differed from his first; “but you +now see how ready I have shown myself to satisfy your +demands; I have done my part; wherefore, if this parliament +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page476" id="page476"></a>476</span> +have not a happy conclusion, the sin is yours,—I am +free from it!”</p> + +<p>Popular gratitude is at least as vociferous as it is sudden. +Both houses returned the king acclamations of joy; everyone +seemed to exult at the happy change which a few days had +effected in the fate of the kingdom. Everywhere the bells +rung, bonfires were kindled, an universal holiday was kept +through the town, and spread to the country: but an ominous +circumstance has been registered by a letter-writer; the +common people, who had caught the contagious happiness, +imagined that all this public joy was occasioned by the king’s +consenting to commit the duke to the Tower!</p> + +<p>Charles has been censured, even by Hume, for his “evasions +and delays” in granting his assent to the “Petition of +Right;” but now, either the parliament had conquered the +royal unwillingness, or the king was zealously inclined on +reconciliation. Yet the joy of the commons did not outlast +the bonfires in the streets; they resumed their debates as if +they had never before touched on the subjects: they did not +account for the feelings of the man whom they addressed as +the sovereign. They sent up a “Remonstrance” against the +duke,<a name="FnAnchor_315" id="FnAnchor_315" href="#Footnote_315"><span class="sp">315</span></a> and introduced his mother into it, as a patroness of +popery. Charles declared, that after having granted the +famous “Petition,” he had not expected such a return as +this “Remonstrance.” “How acceptable it is,” he afterwards +said, “every man may judge; no wise man can justify +it.” After the reading of the Remonstrance, the duke fell +on his knees, desiring to answer for himself; but Charles no +way relaxed in showing his personal favour.<a name="FnAnchor_316" id="FnAnchor_316" href="#Footnote_316"><span class="sp">316</span></a></p> + +<p>The duke was often charged with actions and with expressions +of which, unquestionably, he was not always guilty; +and we can more fairly decide on some points relating to +Charles and the favourite, for we have a clearer notion of +them than his contemporaries. The active spirits in the +commons were resolved to hunt down the game to the death: +for they now struck at, as the king calls it, “one of the chief +maintenances of my crown,” in tonnage and poundage, the +levying of which, they now declared, was a violation of the +liberties of the people. This subject again involved legal +discussions, and another “Remonstrance.” They were in the +act of reading it, when the king suddenly came down to the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page477" id="page477"></a>477</span> +house, sent for the Speaker, and prorogued the parliament. +“I am forced to end this session,” said Charles, “some few +hours before I meant, being not willing to receive any more +Remonstrances, to which I must give a harsh answer.” +There was at least as much of sorrow as of anger in this +closing speech.</p> + +<p>Buckingham once more was to offer his life for the honour +of his master—and to court popularity! It is well known +with what exterior fortitude Charles received the news of the +duke’s assassination; this imperturbable majesty of his mind—insensibility +it was not—never deserted him on many +similar occasions. There was no indecision—no feebleness +in his conduct; and that extraordinary event was not suffered +to delay the expedition. The king’s personal industry +astonished all the men in office. One writes that the king +had done more in six weeks than in the duke’s time had been +done in six months. The death of Buckingham caused no +change; the king left every man to his own charge, but +took the general direction into his own hands.<a name="FnAnchor_317" id="FnAnchor_317" href="#Footnote_317"><span class="sp">317</span></a> In private, +Charles deeply mourned the loss of Buckingham; he gave no +encouragement to his enemies: the king called him “his +martyr,” and declared “the world was greatly mistaken in +him; for it was thought that the favourite had ruled his +majesty, but it was far otherwise; for that the duke had +been to him a faithful and an obedient servant.”<a name="FnAnchor_318" id="FnAnchor_318" href="#Footnote_318"><span class="sp">318</span></a> Such +were the feelings and ideas of the unfortunate Charles the +First, which it is necessary to become acquainted with to +judge of; few have possessed the leisure or the disposition to +perform this historical duty, involved as it is in the history +of our passions. If ever the man shall be viewed, as well as +the monarch, the private history of Charles the First will +form one of the most pathetic of biographies.<a name="FnAnchor_319" id="FnAnchor_319" href="#Footnote_319"><span class="sp">319</span></a></p> + +<p>All the foreign expeditions of Charles the First were alike +disastrous: the vast genius of Richelieu, at its meridian, had +paled our ineffectual star! The dreadful surrender of Rochelle +had sent back our army and navy baffled and disgraced; and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page478" id="page478"></a>478</span> +Buckingham had timely perished, to save one more reproach, +one more political crime, attached to his name. Such failures +did not improve the temper of the times; but the most +brilliant victory would not have changed the fate of Charles, +nor allayed the fiery spirits in the commons, who, as Charles +said, “not satisfied in hearing complainers, had erected themselves +into inquisitors after complaints.”</p> + +<p>Parliament met. The king’s speech was conciliatory. He +acknowledged that the exaction of the duties of the customs +was not a right which he derived from his hereditary prerogative, +but one which he enjoyed as the gift of his people. +These duties as yet had not indeed been formally confirmed +by parliament, but they had never been refused to the +sovereign. The king closed with a fervent ejaculation that +the session, begun with confidence, might end with a mutual +good understanding.<a name="FnAnchor_320" id="FnAnchor_320" href="#Footnote_320"><span class="sp">320</span></a></p> + +<p>The shade of Buckingham was no longer cast between +Charles the First and the commons. And yet we find that +“their dread and dear sovereign” was not allowed any repose +on the throne.</p> + +<p>A new demon of national discord, Religion, in a metaphysical +garb, reared its distracted head. This evil spirit +had been raised by the conduct of the court divines, whose +political sermons, with their attempts to return to the more +solemn ceremonies of the Romish church, alarmed some +tender consciences; it served as a masked battery for the +patriotic party to change their ground at will, without +slackening their fire. When the king urged for the duties of +his customs, he found that he was addressing a committee +sitting for religion. Sir John Eliot threw out a singular expression. +Alluding to some of the bishops, whom he called +“masters of ceremonies,” he confessed that some ceremonies +were commendable, such as “that we should stand up at the +repetition of the creed, to testify the resolution of our hearts +to defend the religion we profess, and in some churches they +did not only stand upright, but <i>with their swords drawn</i>.” +His speech was a spark that fell into a well-laid train; +scarcely can we conceive the enthusiastic temper of the House +of Commons at that moment, when, after some debate, they +entered into <i>a vow</i> to preserve “the articles of religion established +by parliament in the <i>thirteenth year of our late Queen +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page479" id="page479"></a>479</span> +Elizabeth</i>!” and this <i>vow</i> was immediately followed up by a +petition to the king for <i>a fast</i> for the increasing miseries of +the reformed churches abroad. Parliaments are liable to have +their passions! Some of these enthusiasts were struck by a +panic, not perhaps warranted by the danger, of “Jesuits and +Armenians.” The king answered them in good-humour; +observing, however, on the state of the reformed abroad; +“that fighting would do them more good than fasting.” He +granted them their fast, but they would now grant no +return; for now they presented “a Declaration” to the king, +that tonnage and poundage must give precedency to religion! +The king’s answer still betrays no ill temper. He confessed +that he did not think that “religion was in so much danger +as they affirmed.” He reminds them of tonnage and +poundage; “I do not so much desire it out of greediness of +the thing, as out of a desire to put an end to those questions +that arise between me and some of my subjects.”</p> + +<p>Never had the king been more moderate in his claims, or +more tender in his style; and never had the commons been +more fierce, and never, in truth, so utterly inexorable! Often +kings are tyrannical, and sometimes are parliaments! A body +corporate, with the infection of passion, may perform acts of +injustice equally with the individual who abuses the power +with which he is invested. It was insisted that Charles +should give up the receivers of the customs, who were denounced +as capital enemies to the king and kingdom; while +those who submitted to the duties were declared guilty as +accessories. When Sir John Eliot was pouring forth invectives +against some courtiers—however they may have merited +the blast of his eloquence—he was sometimes interrupted and +sometimes cheered, for the stinging personalities. The timid +Speaker, refusing to put the question, suffered a severe reprimand +from Selden: “If you will not put it, we must sit still, +and thus we shall never be able to do anything!” The house +adjourned in great heat; the dark prognostic of their next +meeting, which Sir Symonds D’Ewes has remarked in his +Diary as “the most gloomy, sad, and dismal day for England +that happened for five hundred years!”</p> + +<p>On this fatal day,<a name="FnAnchor_321" id="FnAnchor_321" href="#Footnote_321"><span class="sp">321</span></a> the Speaker still refusing to put the +question, and announcing the king’s command for an adjournment, +Sir John Eliot stood up! The Speaker attempted to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page480" id="page480"></a>480</span> +leave the chair, but two members, who had placed themselves +on each side, forcibly kept him down—Eliot, who had prepared +“a short declaration,” flung down a paper on the floor, +crying out that it might be read! His party vociferated for +the reading—others that it should not. A sudden tumult +broke out; Coriton, a fervent patriot, struck another member, +and many laid their hands on their swords.<a name="FnAnchor_322" id="FnAnchor_322" href="#Footnote_322"><span class="sp">322</span></a> “Shall we,” +said one, “be sent home as we were last sessions, turned off +like scattered sheep?” The weeping, trembling Speaker, +still persisting in what he held to be his duty, was dragged +to and fro by opposite parties; but neither he nor the clerk +would read the paper, though the Speaker was bitterly reproached +by his kinsman, Sir Peter Hayman, “as the disgrace +of his country, and a blot to a noble family.” Eliot, finding +the house so strongly divided, undauntedly snatching up the +paper, said, “I shall then express that by my tongue which +this paper should have done.” Denzil Holles assumed the +character of Speaker, putting the question: it was returned +by the acclamations of the party. The doors were locked +and the keys laid on the table. The king sent for the +serjeant and mace, but the messenger could obtain no admittance—the +usher of the black rod met no more regard. The +king then ordered out his guard—in the meanwhile the protest +was completed. The door was flung open, the rush of +the members was so impetuous that the crowd carried away +among them the serjeant and the usher in the confusion and +riot. Many of the members were struck by horror amidst +this conflict, it was a sad image of the future! Several of the +patriots were committed to the Tower. The king on dissolving +this parliament, which was the last till the memorable +“Long Parliament,” gives us, at least, his idea of it:—“It is +far from me to judge all the House alike guilty, for there are +there as dutiful subjects as any in the world; it being but +some few vipers among them that did cast this mist of undutifulness +over most of their eyes.”<a name="FnAnchor_323" id="FnAnchor_323" href="#Footnote_323"><span class="sp">323</span></a></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page481" id="page481"></a>481</span></p> + +<p>Thus have I traced, step by step, the secret history of +Charles the First and his early Parliaments. I have entered +into their feelings, while I have supplied new facts, to make +everything as present and as true as my faithful diligence +could repeat the tale. It was necessary that I should sometimes +judge of the first race of our patriots as some of their +contemporaries did; but it was impossible to avoid correcting +these notions by the more enlarged views of their posterity. +This is the privilege of an historian and the philosophy of his +art. There is no apology for the king, nor any declamation +for the subject. Were we only to decide by the final results +of this great conflict, of which what we have here narrated is +but the faint beginning, we should confess that Sir John +Eliot and his party were the first fathers of our political +existence; and we should not withhold from them the inexpressible +gratitude of a nation’s freedom! But human +infirmity mortifies us in the noblest pursuits of man; and we +must be taught this penitential and chastising wisdom. The +story of our patriots is involved; Charles appears to have +been lowering those high notions of his prerogative, which +were not peculiar to him, and was throwing himself on the +bosom of his people. The severe and unrelenting conduct of +Sir John Eliot, his prompt eloquence and bold invective, well +fitted him for the leader of a party. He was the lodestone, +drawing together the looser particles of iron. Never sparing, +in the monarch, the errors of the man, never relinquishing +his royal prey, which he had fastened on, Eliot, with Dr. +Turner and some others, contributed to make Charles disgusted +with all parliaments. Without any dangerous concessions, +there was more than one moment when they might +have reconciled the sovereign to themselves, and not have +driven him to the fatal resource of attempting to reign without +a parliament!<a name="FnAnchor_324" id="FnAnchor_324" href="#Footnote_324"><span class="sp">324</span></a></p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_286" id="Footnote_286" href="#FnAnchor_286"><span class="fn">286</span></a> From manuscript letters of the times.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_287" id="Footnote_287" href="#FnAnchor_287"><span class="fn">287</span></a> Sloane MSS. 4177. Letter 317.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_288" id="Footnote_288" href="#FnAnchor_288"><span class="fn">288</span></a> The king had said in his speech to parliament, “I must let you know +I will not allow any of my servants to be questioned among you, much +less such as are of eminent place, and near unto me;” hence the security +of Buckingham, who showed the most perfect contempt for the speakers +who thus violently attacked him.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_289" id="Footnote_289" href="#FnAnchor_289"><span class="fn">289</span></a> Our printed historical documents, Kennett, Frankland, &c., are confused +in their details, and facts seem misplaced for want of dates. They +all equally copy Rushworth, the only source of our history of this period. +Even Hume is involved in the obscurity. The king’s speech was on the +<i>eleventh</i> of May. As Rushworth has not furnished dates, it would seem +that the two orators had been sent to the Tower <i>before the king’s speech</i> to +the lords.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_290" id="Footnote_290" href="#FnAnchor_290"><span class="fn">290</span></a> The king attended the House of Lords to explain his intentions verbally, +taking the minister with him, though under impeachment. “Touching +the matters against him,” said the king, “I myself can be a witness to +clear him in every one of them.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_291" id="Footnote_291" href="#FnAnchor_291"><span class="fn">291</span></a> They decided on stopping all business till satisfaction was given them, +which ended in the release of Digges and Eliot in a few days.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_292" id="Footnote_292" href="#FnAnchor_292"><span class="fn">292</span></a> Frankland, an inveterate royalist, in copying Rushworth, inserts +“their <i>pretended</i> liberties;” exactly the style of catholic writers when +they mention protestantism by “la religion <i>prétendue reformée</i>.” All +party writers use the same style!</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_293" id="Footnote_293" href="#FnAnchor_293"><span class="fn">293</span></a> The strength of the popular hatred may be seen in the articles on +Buckingham and Felton in vol. ii. Satires in manuscript abounded, and by +their broad-spoken pungency rendered the duke a perfect <i>bête noir</i> to the +people.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_294" id="Footnote_294" href="#FnAnchor_294"><span class="fn">294</span></a> Manuscript letter.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_295" id="Footnote_295" href="#FnAnchor_295"><span class="fn">295</span></a> Rushworth, i. 400. Hume, vi. 221, who enters widely into the +views and feelings of Charles.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_296" id="Footnote_296" href="#FnAnchor_296"><span class="fn">296</span></a> The Radicals of that day differed from ours in the means, though not +in the end. They at least referred to their Bibles, and rather more than +was required; but superstition is as mad as atheism! Many of the puritans +confused their brains with the study of the Revelations; believing +Prince Henry to be prefigured in the Apocalypse, some prophesied that he +should overthrow “the beast.” Ball, our tailor, was this very prophet; +and was so honest as to believe in his own prophecy. Osborn tells, that +Ball put out money on adventure; <i>i. e.</i>, to receive it back double or treble, +when King James should be elected pope! So that though he had no +money for a loan, he had to spare for a prophecy.</p> + +<p>This Ball has been confounded with a more ancient radical, Ball, a +priest, and a principal mover in Wat Tyler’s insurrection. Our Ball must +have been very notorious, for Jonson has noticed his “admired discourses.” +Mr. Gifford, without any knowledge of my account of this +tailor-prophet, by his active sagacity has rightly indicated him.—See Jonson’s +Works, vol. v. p. 241.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_297" id="Footnote_297" href="#FnAnchor_297"><span class="fn">297</span></a> It is curious to observe that the Westminster elections, in the fourth +year of Charles’s reign, were exactly of the same turbulent character as +those which we witness in our days. The duke had counted by his interest +to bring in Sir Robert Pye. The contest was severe, but accompanied +by some of those ludicrous electioneering scenes which still amuse the +mob. Whenever Sir Robert Pye’s party cried—“A Pye! a Pye! a Pye!” +the adverse party would cry—“A pudding! a pudding! a pudding!” and +others—“A lie! a lie! a lie!” This Westminster election of two hundred +years ago ended as we have seen some others; they rejected all who +had urged the payment of the loans; and, passing by such men as Sir +Robert Cotton, and their last representative, they fixed on a brewer and a +grocer for the two members for Westminster.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_298" id="Footnote_298" href="#FnAnchor_298"><span class="fn">298</span></a> Extract from a manuscript letter:—“On Friday last I hear, but as a +secret, that it was debated at the council-table whether our Essex men, +who refused to take press-money, should not be punished by martial-law, +and hanged up on the next tree to their dwellings, for an example of terror +to others. My lord keeper, who had been long silent, when, in conclusion, +it came to his course to speak, told the lords, that as far as he understood +the law, <i>none were liable to martial law but martial men</i>. If these had +taken press-money, and afterwards run from their colours, they might then +be punished in that manner; but yet they were no soldiers, and refused to +be. Secondly, he thought a subsidy, new by law, could not be pressed +against his will for a foreign service; it being supposed, in law, the service +of his purse excused that of his person, unless his own country were in +danger; and he appealed to my lord treasurer, and my lord president, +whether it was not so, who both assented it was so, though some of them +faintly, as unwilling to have been urged to such an answer. So it is +thought that proposition is dashed; and it will be tried what may be done +in the Star-chamber against these refractories.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_299" id="Footnote_299" href="#FnAnchor_299"><span class="fn">299</span></a> A member of the house, in James the First’s time, called this race of +divines “Spaniels to the court and wolves to the people.” Dr. Mainwaring, +Dr. Sibthorpe, and Dean Bargrave were seeking for ancient precedents +to maintain absolute monarchy, and to inculcate passive obedience. +Bargrave had this passage in his sermon: “It was the speech of a man +renowned for wisdom in our age, that if he were <i>commanded</i> to put +forth to sea in a ship that had neither mast nor tackling, he would do it:” +and being asked what wisdom that were, replied, “The wisdom must be +in him that hath power to command, not in him that conscience binds to +obey.” Sibthorpe, after he published his sermon, immediately had his +house burnt down. Dr. Mainwaring, says a manuscript letter-writer, +“sent the other day to a friend of mine, to help him to all the ancient +precedents he could find, to strengthen his opinion (for absolute monarchy), +who answered him he could help him in nothing but only to hang him, and +that if he lived till a parliament, or, &c., he should be sure of a halter.” +Mainwaring afterwards submitted to parliament; but after the dissolution +got a free pardon. The panic of popery was a great evil. The divines, +under Laud, appeared to approach to Catholicism; but it was probably +only a project of reconciliation between the two churches, which Elizabeth, +James, and Charles equally wished. Mr. Cosins, a letter-writer, is +censured for “superstition” in this bitter style: “Mr. Cosins has impudently +made three editions of his prayer-book, and one which he gives +away in private, different from the published ones. An audacious fellow, +whom my Lord of Durham greatly admireth. I doubt if he be a sound +protestant: he was so blind at even-song on Candlemas-day, that he could +not see to read prayers in the minster with less than three hundred and +forty candles, whereof sixty he caused to be placed about the high altar; +besides he caused the picture of our Saviour, supported by two angels, to +be set in the choir. The committee is very hot against him, and no matter +if they trounce him.” This was Cosins, who survived the revolution, and +returning with Charles the Second, was raised to the see of Durham: the +charitable institutions he has left are most munificent.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_300" id="Footnote_300" href="#FnAnchor_300"><span class="fn">300</span></a> Rushworth’s Collections, i. 514.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_301" id="Footnote_301" href="#FnAnchor_301"><span class="fn">301</span></a> I deliver this fact as I find it in a private letter; but it is noticed in +the Journals of the House of Commons, 23 Junii, 4º. Caroli Regis. “Sir +Edward Coke reporteth that they find that, enclosed in the letter, to be +unfit for any subject’s ear to hear. Read but one line and a half of it, and +could not endure to read more of it. It was ordered to be sealed and delivered +into the king’s hands by eight members, and to acquaint his majesty +with the place and time of finding it; particularly that upon the +reading of one line and a half at most, they would read no more, but +sealed it up, and brought it to the House.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_302" id="Footnote_302" href="#FnAnchor_302"><span class="fn">302</span></a> I have since discovered, by a manuscript letter, that this <i>Dr. Turner</i> +was held in contempt by the king; that he was ridiculed at court, which +he haunted, for his want of veracity; in a word, that he was a disappointed +courtier!</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_303" id="Footnote_303" href="#FnAnchor_303"><span class="fn">303</span></a> This circumstance is mentioned in a manuscript letter; what Cooke +declared to the House is in Rushworth, vol. i. p. 525.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_304" id="Footnote_304" href="#FnAnchor_304"><span class="fn">304</span></a> I refer the critical student of our history to the duke’s speech at the +council-table as it appears in Rushworth, i. 525: but what I add respecting +his personal sacrifices is from manuscript letters. Sloane MSS. 4177. +Letter 490, &c.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_305" id="Footnote_305" href="#FnAnchor_305"><span class="fn">305</span></a> On this subject, see note to the brief article on Buckingham in vol. i.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_306" id="Footnote_306" href="#FnAnchor_306"><span class="fn">306</span></a> Curiosities of Literature, First Series, vol. iii. p. 438, ed. 1817; vol. +v. p. 277, ed. 1823; vol. iii. p. 429, ed. 1824; vol. iv. p. 148 ed. +1834; p. 301, ed. 1840, or vol. ii. p. 357, of this edition.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_307" id="Footnote_307" href="#FnAnchor_307"><span class="fn">307</span></a> I find this speech, and an account of its reception, in manuscript letters; +the fragment in Rushworth contains no part of it. I. 526. Sloane +MSS. 4177. Letter 490, &c.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_308" id="Footnote_308" href="#FnAnchor_308"><span class="fn">308</span></a> Modern history would afford more instances than perhaps some of us +suspect. I cannot pass over an illustration of my principle, which I shall +take from two very notorious politicians—Wat Tyler and Sir William +Walworth!</p> + +<p>Wat, when in servitude, had been beaten by his master, Richard Lyons, +a great merchant of wines, and a sheriff of London. This chastisement, +working on an evil disposition, appears never to have been forgiven; and +when this Radical assumed his short-lived dominion, he had his old master +beheaded, and his head carried before him on the point of a spear! So +Grafton tells us, to the eternal obloquy of this arch-jacobin, who “was a +crafty fellow, and of an excellent wit, but wanting grace.” I would not +sully the patriotic blow which ended the rebellion with the rebel; yet +there are secrets in history! Sir William Walworth, “the ever famous +mayor of London,” as Stowe designates him, has left the immortality of +his name to one of our suburbs; but having discovered in Stowe’s “Survey,” +that Walworth was the landlord of the stews on the Bank-side, which he +farmed out to the Dutch <i>vrows</i>, and which Wat had pulled down, I am +inclined to suspect that private feeling first knocked down the saucy ribald, +and then thrust him through and through with his dagger; and that there +was as much of personal vengeance as patriotism, which crushed the demolisher +of so much valuable property!</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_309" id="Footnote_309" href="#FnAnchor_309"><span class="fn">309</span></a> I have formed my idea of Sir Francis Nethersole from some strange incidents +in his <i>political</i> conduct, which I have read in some contemporary +letters. He was, however, a man of some eminence, had been Orator for +the University of Cambridge, agent for James I. with the Princes of the +Union in Germany, and also Secretary to the Queen of Bohemia. He +founded and endowed a free-school at Polesworth in Warwickshire.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_310" id="Footnote_310" href="#FnAnchor_310"><span class="fn">310</span></a> Manuscript letter.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_311" id="Footnote_311" href="#FnAnchor_311"><span class="fn">311</span></a> These speeches are entirely drawn from those manuscript letters to +which I have frequently referred. Coke’s may be substantially found in +Rushworth, but without a single expression as here given.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_312" id="Footnote_312" href="#FnAnchor_312"><span class="fn">312</span></a> The popular opinion is well expressed in the following lines preserved +in Sloane MS. 826:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr" style="font-size: 100%;"> + +<p>When only one doth rule and guide the ship,</p> + <p class="i1">Who neither card nor compass knew before,</p> +<p>The master pilot and the rest asleep,</p> + <p class="i1">The stately ship is split upon the shore;</p> +<p>But they awaking start up, stare, and cry,</p> +<p>“Who did this fault?”—“Not I,”—“Nor I,”—“Nor I.”</p> + <p class="i2">So fares it with a great and wealthy state</p> + <p class="i2">Not govern’d by the master, but his mate.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p><a name="Footnote_313" id="Footnote_313" href="#FnAnchor_313"><span class="fn">313</span></a> This last letter is printed in Rushworth, vol. i. p. 609.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_314" id="Footnote_314" href="#FnAnchor_314"><span class="fn">314</span></a> The king’s answer is in Rushworth, vol. i. p. 613.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_315" id="Footnote_315" href="#FnAnchor_315"><span class="fn">315</span></a> This eloquent state paper is in Rushworth, vol. i. p. 619.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_316" id="Footnote_316" href="#FnAnchor_316"><span class="fn">316</span></a> This interview is taken from manuscript letters.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_317" id="Footnote_317" href="#FnAnchor_317"><span class="fn">317</span></a> Manuscript Letters: Lord Dorset to the Earl of Carlisle.—Sloane +MSS. 4178. Letter 519.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_318" id="Footnote_318" href="#FnAnchor_318"><span class="fn">318</span></a> Manuscript Letter.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_319" id="Footnote_319" href="#FnAnchor_319"><span class="fn">319</span></a> I have given (vol. ii. p. 336) the “Secret History of Charles the First +and his Queen,” where I have traced the firmness and independence of +his character. In another article will be found as much of the “Secret +History of the Duke of Buckingham” as I have been enabled to acquire.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_320" id="Footnote_320" href="#FnAnchor_320"><span class="fn">320</span></a> “To conclude,” said the king; “let us not be jealous one of the +other’s actions.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_321" id="Footnote_321" href="#FnAnchor_321"><span class="fn">321</span></a> Monday, 2nd of March, 1629.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_322" id="Footnote_322" href="#FnAnchor_322"><span class="fn">322</span></a> It was imagined out of doors that swords had been drawn; for a +Welsh page running in great haste, when he heard the noise, to the door, +cried out, “I pray you let hur in! let hur in! to give hur master his +sword!”—<i>Manuscript Letter.</i></p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_323" id="Footnote_323" href="#FnAnchor_323"><span class="fn">323</span></a> At the time many undoubtedly considered that it was a mere faction +in the house. Sir Symonds D’Ewes was certainly no politician—but, unquestionably, +his ideas were not peculiar to himself. Of the last third +parliament he delivers this opinion in his Diary: “I cannot deem but the +greater part of the house were morally honest men; but these were the +least guilty of the fatal breach, being only misled by <i>some other Machiavelian +politics, who seemed zealous for the liberty of the commonwealth</i>, +and by that means, <i>in the moving of their outward freedom</i>, drew the +votes of those good men to their side.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_324" id="Footnote_324" href="#FnAnchor_324"><span class="fn">324</span></a> Since the publication of the present article, I have composed my +“Commentaries on the Life and Reign of Charles the First,” in five +volumes.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page482" id="page482"></a>482</span></p> +<h3>THE RUMP.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Text</span> and commentary! The French Revolution abounds +with wonderful “explanatory notes” on the English. It has +cleared up many obscure passages—and in the political history +of Man, both pages must be read together.</p> + +<p>The opprobrious and ludicrous nickname of “the Rump,” +stigmatised a faction which played the same part in the +English Revolution as the “Montagne” of the Jacobins did +in the French. It has been imagined that our English +Jacobins were impelled by a principle different from that of +their modern rivals; but the madness of avowed atheism, and +the frenzy of hypocritical sanctity, in the circle of crimes +meet at the same point. Their history forms one of those +useful parallels where, with truth as unerring as mathematical +demonstration, we discover the identity of human nature. +Similarity of situation, and certain principles, producing similar +personages and similar events, finally settle in the same results. +The Rump, as long as human nature exists, can be nothing +but the Rump, however it may be thrown uppermost.</p> + +<p>The origin of this political by-name has often been inquired +into; and it is somewhat curious, that, though all parties +consent to reprobate it, each assigns for it a different allusion. +In the history of political factions there is always a mixture +of the ludicrous with the tragic; but, except their modern +brothers, no faction like the present ever excited such a combination +of extreme contempt and extreme horror.</p> + +<p>Among the rival parties in 1659, the loyalists and the +presbyterians acted as we may suppose the Tories and the +Whigs would in the same predicament; a secret reconciliation +had taken place, to bury in oblivion their former jealousies, +that they might unite to rid themselves from that tyranny of +tyrannies, a hydra-headed government; or, as Hume observes, +that “all efforts should be used for the overthrow of the +Rump; so they called the parliament, in allusion to that part +of the animal body.” The sarcasm of the allusion seemed +obvious to our polished historian; yet, looking more narrowly +for its origin, we shall find how indistinct were the notions of +this nickname among those who lived nearer to the times. +Evelyn says that “the Rump parliament was so called as +containing some few rotten members of the other.” Roger +Coke describes it thus: “You must now be content with a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page483" id="page483"></a>483</span> +piece of the Commons called ‘the Rump.’” And Carte calls +the Rump, “the carcass of a house,” and seems not precisely +aware of the contemptuous allusion. But how do “rotten +members” and “a carcass” agree with the notion of “a +Rump?” Recently the editor of the Life of Colonel Hutchinson +has conveyed a novel origin. “The number of the +members of the Long Parliament having been by seclusion, +death, &c., very much reduced,”—a remarkable &c. this! by +which our editor seems adroitly to throw a veil over the forcible +transportation by the Rumpers of two hundred members +at one swoop,—“the remainder was compared to the <i>rump of +a fowl which was left</i>, all the rest being eaten.” Our editor even +considers this to be “a coarse emblem;” yet “the rump of a +fowl” could hardly offend even a lady’s delicacy! Our editor, +probably, was somewhat anxious not to degrade <i>too lowly</i> the +anti-monarchical party, designated by this opprobrious term. +Perhaps it is pardonable in Mrs. Macaulay, an historical lady, +and a “Rumper,” for she calls the “Levellers” a “brave and +virtuous party,” to have passed over in <i>her</i> history any mention +of the offensive term at all, as well as the ridiculous +catastrophe which they underwent in the political revolution, +which, however, we must beg leave not to pass by.</p> + +<p>This party-coinage has been ascribed to Clement Walker, +their bitter antagonist; who, having sacrificed no inconsiderable +fortune to the cause of what he considered constitutional +liberty, was one of the violent ejected members of the Long +Parliament, and perished in prison, a victim to honest, unbending +principles. His “History of Independency” is a +rich legacy bequeathed to posterity, of all their great misdoings, +and their petty villanies, and, above all, of their +secret history. One likes to know of what blocks the idols of +the people are sometimes carved out.</p> + +<p>Clement Walker notices “the votes and acts of this <i>fag +end</i>; this <span class="sc">rump</span> of a parliament, with corrupt maggots +in it.”<a name="FnAnchor_325" id="FnAnchor_325" href="#Footnote_325"><span class="sp">325</span></a> This hideous, but descriptive image of “The +Rump” had, however, got forward before, for the collector of +“the Rump Songs”<a name="FnAnchor_326" id="FnAnchor_326" href="#Footnote_326"><span class="sp">326</span></a> tells us, “If you ask who named it +<i>Rump</i>, know ’twas so styled in an honest sheet of prayer, +called ‘The Bloody Rump,’ written <i>before the trial</i> of our +late sovereign; but the word obtained not <i>universal notice</i>, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page484" id="page484"></a>484</span> +till it flew from the mouth of Major-General Brown, at a +public assembly in the days of Richard Cromwell.” Thus +it happens that a stinging nickname has been frequently +applied to render a faction eternally odious; and the chance +expression of a wit, when adopted on some public occasion, +circulates among a whole people. The present nickname +originated in derision on the expulsion of the majority of the +Long Parliament by the usurping minority. It probably +slept; for who would have stirred it through the Protectorate? +and finally awakened at Richard’s restored, but fleeting +“Rump,” to witness its own ridiculous extinction.</p> + +<p>Our Rump passed through three stages in its political +progress. Preparatory to the trial of the sovereign, the +anti-monarchical party constituted the minority in “the +<i>Long</i> Parliament:” the very name by which this parliament +is recognised seemed a grievance to an impatient people, +vacillating with chimerical projects of government, and now +accustomed, from a wild indefinite notion of political equality, +to pull down all existing institutions. Such was the temper +of the times, that an act of the most violent injustice, openly +performed, served only as the jest of the day, a jest which +has passed into history. The forcible expulsion of two hundred +of their brother members, by those who afterwards +were saluted as “The Rump,” was called “Pride’s Purge,” +from the activity of a colonel of that name, a military adventurer, +who was only the blind and brutal instrument of his +party; for when he stood at the door of the Commons, holding +a paper with the names of the members, he did not personally +know one! And his “Purge” might have operated +a quite opposite effect, administered by his own unskilful +hand, had not Lord Grey of Groby, and the door-keeper,—worthy +dispersers of the British senate!—pointed out the obnoxious +members, on whom our colonel laid his hand, and sent +off by his men to be detained, if a bold member, or to be deterred +from sitting in the house, if a frightened one. This colonel had +been a drayman; and the contemptible knot of the Commons, +reduced to fifty or sixty confederates, which assembled after his +“Purge,” were called “Colonel Pride’s Dray-Horses.”</p> + +<p>It was this Rump which voted the death of the sovereign, +and abolished the regal office, and the House of Peers—as +“unnecessary, burdensome, and dangerous!” Every office in +parliament seemed “dangerous,” but that of the “Custodes +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page485" id="page485"></a>485</span> +libertatis Angliæ,” the keepers of the liberties of England! +or rather “the gaolers!” “The legislative half-quarter of +the House of Commons!” indignantly exclaims Clement +Walker—the “Montagne” of the French revolutionists!</p> + +<p>The “Red-coats” as the military were nicknamed, soon +taught their masters, “the Rumpers,” silence and obedience: +the latter having raised one colossal man for their own purpose, +were annihilated by him at a single blow. Cromwell, +five years after, turned them out of their house, and put the +keys into his pocket. Their last public appearance was in +the fleeting days of Richard Cromwell, when the comi-tragedy +of “the Rump” concluded by a catastrophe as ludicrous as +that of Tom Thumb’s tragedy!</p> + +<p>How such a faction used their instruments to gather in +the common spoil, and how their instruments at length converted +the hands which held them into instruments themselves, +appears in their history. When “the Long Parliament” +opposed the designs of Cromwell and Ireton, these +chiefs cried up “the liberty of the people,” and denied “the +authority of parliament:” but when they had effectuated +their famous “purge,” and formed a House of Commons of +themselves, they abolished the House of Lords, crying up the +supreme authority of the House of Commons, and crying +down the liberty of the people. Such is the history of +political factions, as well as of statesmen! Charles the Fifth +alternately made use of the Pope’s authority to subdue the +rising spirit of the Protestants of Germany, or raised an +army of Protestants to imprison the Pope! who branded his +German allies by the novel and odious name of Lutherans. +A chain of similar facts may be framed out of modern history.</p> + +<p>The “Rump,” as they were called by every one but their +own party, became a whetstone for the wits to sharpen +themselves on; and we have two large collections of “Rump +Songs,” curious chronicles of popular feeling!<a name="FnAnchor_327" id="FnAnchor_327" href="#Footnote_327"><span class="sp">327</span></a> Without +this evidence we should not have been so well informed +respecting the phases of this portentous phenomenon. “The +Rump” was celebrated in verse, till at length it became “the +Rump of a Rump of a Rump!” as Foulis traces them to their +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page486" id="page486"></a>486</span> +dwindled and grotesque appearance. It is pourtrayed by a +wit of the times—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>The Rump’s an old story, if well understood,</p> +<p>’Tis a thing dress’d up in a parliament’s hood,</p> +<p>And like it—but the tail stands where the head shou’d!</p> +<p>’Twould make a man scratch where it does not itch!</p> +<p>They say ’tis good luck when a body rises</p> +<p>With the rump upwards; but he that advises</p> +<p>To live in that posture, is none of the wisest.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Cromwell’s hunting them out of the House by military +force is alluded to—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Our politic doctors do us teach,</p> +<p>That a blood-sucking red-coat’s as good as a leech</p> +<p>To relieve the head, if applied to the breech.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>In the opening scene of the Restoration, Mrs. Hutchinson, +an honest republican, paints with dismay a scene otherwise +very ludicrous. “When the town of Nottingham, as almost +all the rest of the island, began to grow mad, and declared +themselves in their desires of the king;” or, as another of +the opposite party writes, “When the soldiery, who had +hitherto made <i>clubs trumps</i>, resolved now to turn up the <i>king +of hearts</i> in their affections,” the rabble in town and country +vied with each other in burning the “Rump;” and the +literal emblem was hung by chains on gallowses, with a bonfire +underneath, while the cries of “Let us burn the Rump! +Let us roast the Rump!” were echoed everywhere. The +suddenness of this universal change, which was said to have +maddened the wise, and to have sobered the mad, must be +ascribed to the joy at escaping from the yoke of a military +despotism; perhaps, too, it marked the rapid transition +of hope to a restoration which might be supposed to have +implanted gratitude even in a royal breast! The feelings of +the people expected to find an echo from the throne!</p> + +<p>“The Rump,” besides their general resemblance to the +French anarchists, had also some minuter features of ugliness, +which Englishmen have often exulted have not marked +an English revolution—sanguinary proscriptions!<a name="FnAnchor_328" id="FnAnchor_328" href="#Footnote_328"><span class="sp">328</span></a> We had +thought that we had no revolutionary tribunals! no Septembrisers! +no noyades! no moveable guillotines awaiting for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page487" id="page487"></a>487</span> +carts loaded with human victims! no infuriated republican +urging, in a committee of public safety, the necessity of a +salutary massacre!</p> + +<p>But if it be true that the same motives and the same +principles were at work in both nations, and that the like +characters were performing in England the parts which they +did afterwards in France, by an argument <i>à priori</i> we might +be sure that the same revolting crimes and chimerical projects +were alike suggested at London as at Paris. Human +nature, even in transactions which appear unparalleled, will +be found to preserve a regularity of resemblance not always +suspected.</p> + +<p>The first great tragic act was closely copied by the French: +and if the popular page of our history appears unstained by +their revolutionary axe, this depended only on a slight accident; +for it became a question of “yea” and “nay!” and +was only carried in the negative by <i>two voices</i> in the council! +It was debated among “the bloody Rump,” as it was hideously +designated, “whether to massacre and to put to the sword <i>all +the king’s party</i>!”<a name="FnAnchor_329" id="FnAnchor_329" href="#Footnote_329"><span class="sp">329</span></a> Cromwell himself listened to the suggestion; +and it was only put down by the coolness of political +calculation—the dread that the massacre would be <i>too general</i>! +Some of the Rump not obtaining the blessedness of a massacre, +still clung to the happiness of an immolation; and +many petitions were presented, that “<i>two or three principal +gentlemen</i> of the royal party in <span class="sc">each county</span> might be sacrificed +to justice, whereby the land might be saved from <i>blood-guiltiness</i>!” +Sir Arthur Haslerigg, whose “passionate fondness +of liberty” has been commended,<a name="FnAnchor_330" id="FnAnchor_330" href="#Footnote_330"><span class="sp">330</span></a> was one of the committee +of safety in 1647—I too would commend “a passionate +lover of liberty,” whenever I do not discover that this lover +is much more intent on the dower than on the bride. Haslerigg, +“an absurd, bold man,” as Clarendon, at a single stroke, +reveals his character, was resolved not to be troubled with +king or bishop, or with any power in the state superior to “the +Rump’s.” We may safely suspect the patriot who can cool +his vehemence in spoliation. Haslerigg would have no bishops, +but this was not from any want of reverence for church lands, +for he heaped for himself such wealth as to have been nicknamed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page488" id="page488"></a>488</span> +“the Bishop of Durham!” He is here noticed for a +political crime different from that of plunder. When, in +1647, this venerable radical found the parliament resisting +his views, he declared that “Some heads must fly off!” +adding, “the parliament cannot save England; we must +look another way;”—threatening, what afterwards was done, +to bring in the army! It was this “passionate lover of +liberty” who, when Dorislaus, the parliamentary agent, was +assassinated by some Scotchmen in Holland, moved in the +house, that “six royalists of the best quality” should be immediately +executed! When some northern counties petitioned +the Commons for relief against a famine in the land, +our Maratist observed, that “this <i>want of food</i> would best +defend those counties from Scottish invasion!”<a name="FnAnchor_331" id="FnAnchor_331" href="#Footnote_331"><span class="sp">331</span></a> The slaughter +of Drogheda by Cromwell, and his frightening all London by +what Walker calls “a butchery of apprentices,” when he cried +out to his soldiers, “to kill man, woman, and child, and fire +the city!”<a name="FnAnchor_332" id="FnAnchor_332" href="#Footnote_332"><span class="sp">332</span></a> may be placed among those crimes which are +committed to open a reign of terror—but Hugh Peters’s +solemn thanksgiving to Heaven that “none were spared!” +was the true expression of the true feeling of these political +demoniacs. Cromwell was cruel from politics, others from +constitution. Some were willing to be cruel without “blood-guiltiness.” +One Alexander Rigby, a radical lawyer, twice +moved in the Long Parliament, that those <i>lords and gentlemen</i> +who were “malignants,” should be <i>sold as slaves to the +Dey of Algiers</i>, or sent off to the new plantations in the +West Indies. He had all things prepared; for it is added +that he had contracted with two merchants to ship them off.<a name="FnAnchor_333" id="FnAnchor_333" href="#Footnote_333"><span class="sp">333</span></a> +There was a most bloody-minded “maker of washing-balls,” +as one John Durant is described, appointed a lecturer by the +House of Commons, who always left out of the Lord’s +Prayer, “As we forgive them that trespass against us,” and +substituted, “Lord, since thou hast now drawn out thy +sword, let it not be sheathed again till it be glutted in the +blood of the malignants.” I find too many enormities of +this kind. “Cursed be he that doeth the work of the Lord +negligently, and keepeth back his sword from blood!” was +the cry of the wretch, who, when a celebrated actor and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page489" id="page489"></a>489</span> +royalist sued for quarter, gave no other reply than that of +“fitting the action to the word.”<a name="FnAnchor_334" id="FnAnchor_334" href="#Footnote_334"><span class="sp">334</span></a> Their treatment of the +Irish may possibly be admired by a true Machiavelist: “they +permitted forty thousand of the Irish to enlist in the service of +the kings of Spain and France”—in other words, they expelled +them at once, which, considering that our Rumpers affected +such an abhorrence of tyranny, may be considered as an act +of mercy! satisfying themselves only with dividing the forfeited +lands of the aforesaid forty thousand among their own +party, by lot and other means. An universal confiscation, +after all, is a bloodless massacre. They used the Scotch +soldiers, after the battles of Dunbar and Worcester, a little +differently—but equally efficaciously—for they sold their +Scotch prisoners for slaves to the American planters.<a name="FnAnchor_335" id="FnAnchor_335" href="#Footnote_335"><span class="sp">335</span></a></p> + +<p>The Robespierres and the Marats were as extraordinary +beings, and in some respects the Frenchmen were working +on a more enlarged scheme. These discovered that ”the +generation which had witnessed the preceding one would +always regret it; and for the security of the Revolution, it +was necessary that every person who was thirty years old in +1788 should perish on the scaffold!” The anarchists were +intent on reducing the French people to eight millions, and +on destroying the great cities of France.<a name="FnAnchor_336" id="FnAnchor_336" href="#Footnote_336"><span class="sp">336</span></a></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page490" id="page490"></a>490</span></p> + +<p>Such monstrous persons and events are not credible—but +this is no proof that they have not occurred. Many incredible +things will happen!</p> + +<p>Another disorganising feature in the English <i>Rumpers</i> +was also observed in the French <i>Sans-culottes</i>—their hatred +of literature and the arts. Hebert was one day directing his +satellites towards the <i>Bibliothèque Nationale</i>, to put an end +to all that human knowledge had collected for centuries on +centuries—in one day! alleging, of course, some good reason. +This hero was only diverted from the enterprise by being +persuaded to postpone it for a day or two, when luckily the +guillotine intervened; the same circumstance occurred here. +The burning of the records in the Tower was certainly proposed; +a speech of Selden’s, which I cannot immediately +turn to, put a stop to these incendiaries. It was debated in +the Rump parliament, when Cromwell was general, whether +they should <i>dissolve the universities</i>? They concluded that +no university was necessary; that there were no ancient +examples of such education, and that scholars in other countries +did study at <i>their own cost and charges</i>, and therefore +they looked on them as unnecessary, and thought them fitting +<i>to be taken away for the public use</i>!—How these venerable +asylums escaped from being sold with the king’s pictures, as +stone and timber, and why their rich endowments were not +shared among such inveterate ignorance and remorseless +spoliation, might claim some inquiry.</p> + +<p>The Abbé Morellet, a great political economist, imagined +that the source of all the crimes of the French Revolution +was their violation of the sacred rights of property. The +perpetual invectives of the <i>Sans-culottes</i> of France <i>against +proprietors and against property</i> proceeded from demoralised +beings who formed panegyrics on all crimes; crimes, to explain +whose revolutionary terms, a new dictionary was required. +But even these anarchists, in their mad expressions +against property, and in their wildest notions of their +“égalité,” have not gone beyond the daring of our own +“Rumpers!”</p> + +<p>Of those revolutionary journals of the parliament of 1649, +which in spirit so strongly resemble the diurnal or hebdomadal +effusions of the redoubtable French Hebert, Marat, +and others of that stamp, one of the most remarkable is, +“The Moderate, impartially communicating Martial Affairs +to the <i>Kingdom</i> of England;” the monarchical title our +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page491" id="page491"></a>491</span> +commonwealth men had not yet had time enough to obliterate +from their colloquial style. This writer called himself, +in his barbarous English, <i>The Moderate</i>! It would be hard +to conceive the meanness and illiteracy to which the English +language was reduced under the pens of the rabble-writers of +these days, had we not witnessed in the present time a +parallel to their compositions. “The Moderate!” was a +title assumed on the principle on which Marat denominated +himself “l’Ami du Peuple.” It is curious that the most +ferocious politicians usually assert their moderation. Robespierre, +in his justification, declares that Marat “m’a souvent +accusé de <i>Modérantisme</i>.” The same actors, playing the +same parts, may be always paralleled in their language and +their deeds. This “Moderate” steadily pursued one great +principle—the overthrow of all property. Assuming that +<i>property</i> was the original cause of <i>sin</i>! an exhortation to the +people for this purpose is the subject of the present paper:<a name="FnAnchor_337" id="FnAnchor_337" href="#Footnote_337"><span class="sp">337</span></a> +the illustration of his principle is as striking as the principle +itself.</p> + +<p>It is an apology for, or rather a defence of, robbery! Some +moss-troopers had been condemned to be hanged for practising +their venerable custom of gratuitously supplying themselves +from the flocks and herds of their weaker neighbours: +our “Moderate” ingeniously discovers that the loss of these +men’s lives is to be attributed to nothing but <i>property</i>. +They are necessitated to offend the laws in order to obtain a +livelihood!</p> + +<p>On this he descants; and the extract is a political curiosity +in the French style! “<i>Property</i> is the original cause +of any <i>sin</i> between party and party as to civil transactions. +And since the <i>tyrant</i> is taken off, and the government altered +<i>in nomine</i>, so ought it really to redound to the good of the +people <i>in specie</i>; which, though they cannot expect it in +few years, by reason of <i>the multiplicity of the gentlemen in +authority</i>, command, &c. who drive on all designs for support +of the old government, and consequently their own interest +and the <i>people’s slavery</i>, yet they doubt not but <i>in time</i> the +people will herein discern their own blindness and folly.”</p> + +<p>In September, he advanced with more depth of thought. +“<i>Wars</i> have ever been clothed with the most gracious pretences—viz., +reformation of religion, the laws of the land, the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page492" id="page492"></a>492</span> +liberty of the subject, &c.; though the effects thereof have +proved most destructive to every nation; making the sword, +and not <i>the people</i>, the original of all authorities for many +hundred years together, taking away <i>each man’s birthright</i>, +and <i>settling upon a few</i> <span class="sc">A CURSED PROPRIETY</span>; the ground of +all civil offences, and the greatest cause of most sins against +the heavenly Deity. <i>This tyranny and oppression</i> running +through the veins of many of our predecessors, and being too +long maintained by the sword upon a royal foundation, at +last became so customary, as <i>to the vulgar it seemed most +natural</i>—the only reason why the <i>people</i> of this time are so +<i>ignorant of their birthright</i>, their only freedom,” &c.</p> + +<p>“The birthright” of citoyen <i>Egalité</i> to “<i>a cursed propriety +settled on a few</i>,” was not, even among the French +Jacobins, urged with more amazing force. Had things proceeded +according to our “Moderate’s” plan, “the people’s +slavery” had been something worse. In a short time the +nation would have had more proprietors than property. We +have a curious list of the spoliations of those members of the +House of Commons, who, after their famous <i>self-denying +ordinances</i>, appropriated among themselves sums of money, +offices, and lands, for services “done or to be done.”</p> + +<p>The most innocent of this new government of “the +Majesty of the People,” were those whose talents had been +limited by Nature to peddle and purloin; puny mechanics, +who had suddenly dropped their needles, their hammers, and +their lasts, and slunk out from behind their shop-counters; +those who had never aspired beyond the constable of the +parish, were now seated in the council of state; where, as +Milton describes them, “they fell to huckster the commonwealth:” +there they met a more rabid race of obscure lawyers, +and discontented men of family, of blasted reputations; +adventurers, who were to command the militia and navy of +England,—governors of the three kingdoms! whose votes and +ordinances resounded with nothing else but new impositions, +new taxes, excises, yearly, monthly, weekly sequestrations, +compositions, and universal robbery!</p> + +<p>Baxter vents one deep groan of indignation, and presciently +announces one future consequence of <i>Reform</i>! “In all this +appeared the severity of God, the mutability of worldly +things, and the fruits of error, pride, and selfishness, <i>to be +charged hereafter upon reformation and religion</i>.” As a +statesman, the sagacity of this honest prophet was narrowed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page493" id="page493"></a>493</span> +by the horizon of his religious views; for he ascribes the +whole as “prepared by Satan to the injury of the Protestant +cause, and the advantage of the Papists!” But dropping +his particular application to the devil and the Papists, +honest Richard Baxter is perfectly right in his general +principle concerning “Rumpers,”—“Sans-culottes,” and +“Radicals.”</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_325" id="Footnote_325" href="#FnAnchor_325"><span class="fn">325</span></a> History of Independency, Part II. p. 32.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_326" id="Footnote_326" href="#FnAnchor_326"><span class="fn">326</span></a> First collected and published in 1661, and afterwards reprinted in two +small vols. 1731.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_327" id="Footnote_327" href="#FnAnchor_327"><span class="fn">327</span></a> The first collection ever formed of these political satires was printed in +1660, with the quaint title of “Ratts rhimed to Death; or, the +Rump-parliament hang’d up in the Shambles.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_328" id="Footnote_328" href="#FnAnchor_328"><span class="fn">328</span></a> In one of the popular political songs of the day, “The Rump” is +aptly compared to</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr" style="font-size: 100%;"> + +<p>“The foxes of Samson, that carried a brand</p> +<p>In their tails, to destroy and to burn up the land.”</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p><a name="Footnote_329" id="Footnote_329" href="#FnAnchor_329"><span class="fn">329</span></a> Clement Walker’s History of Independency, part II. p. 130. Confirmed +by Barwick in his Life, p. 163.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_330" id="Footnote_330" href="#FnAnchor_330"><span class="fn">330</span></a> The Rev. Mark Noble’s Memoirs of the Protectoral House of Cromwell, +i. 405.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_331" id="Footnote_331" href="#FnAnchor_331"><span class="fn">331</span></a> Clement Walker’s History of Independency, Part II. 173.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_332" id="Footnote_332" href="#FnAnchor_332"><span class="fn">332</span></a> Ib., Part I. 160.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_333" id="Footnote_333" href="#FnAnchor_333"><span class="fn">333</span></a> Mercurius Rusticus, xii. 115. Barwick’s Life, p. 42.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_334" id="Footnote_334" href="#FnAnchor_334"><span class="fn">334</span></a> This actor was a comedian named Robinson, of the Blackfriars +Theatre; the performers there being termed “the king’s servants.” In +the civil wars most of the young actors, deprived of living by their profession, +all theatres being closed by order of the Parliament, went into the +king’s army. Robinson was fighting at the siege of Basing House, in +Hampshire, October, 1645, when after an obstinate defence his party was +defeated, he laid down his arms, suing for quarter, but was shot through +the head by Colonel Harrison, as he repeated the words quoted above.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_335" id="Footnote_335" href="#FnAnchor_335"><span class="fn">335</span></a> The following account is drawn from Sir William Dugdale’s interleaved +Pocket-book for 1648.—“Aug. 17. The Scotch army, under the +command of Duke Hamilton, defeated at Preston in Lancashire. 24th. +The Moorlanders rose upon the Scots and stript some of them. The Scotch +prisoners miserably used; exposed to eat cabbage-leaves in Ridgley (Staffordshire), +and carrot-tops in Coleshill (Warwickshire). The soldiers who +guarded them sold the victuals which were brought in for them from the +country.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_336" id="Footnote_336" href="#FnAnchor_336"><span class="fn">336</span></a> Desodoard’s Histoire Philosophique de la Révolution de France, iv. 5. +When Lyons was captured in 1793, the revolutionary army nearly reduced +this fine city to a heap of ruins, in obedience to the decree of the Montagne, +who had ordered its name to be effaced, that it should henceforth be +termed, “Commune affranchie,” and upon its ruins a column erected and +inscribed, “Lyon fit la guerre à la liberté; Lyon n’est plus.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_337" id="Footnote_337" href="#FnAnchor_337"><span class="fn">337</span></a> The <i>Moderate</i>, from Tuesday, July 31, to August 7, 1649.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>LIFE AND HABITS OF A LITERARY ANTIQUARY.—OLDYS +AND HIS MANUSCRIPTS.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Such</span> a picture may be furnished by some unexpected materials +which my inquiries have obtained of Oldys. This is a +sort of personage little known to the wits, who write more +than they read, and to their volatile votaries, who only read +what the wits write. It is time to vindicate the honours of +the few whose laborious days enrich the stores of national +literature, not by the duplicates but the supplements of knowledge. +A literary antiquary is that idler whose life is passed +in a perpetual <i>voyage autour de ma chambre</i>; fervent in sagacious +diligence, instinct with the enthusiasm of curious +inquiry, critical as well as erudite; he has to arbitrate +between contending opinions, to resolve the doubtful, to clear +up the obscure, and to grasp at the remote; so busied with +other times, and so interested for other persons than those +about him, that he becomes the inhabitant of the visionary +world of books. He counts only his days by his acquisitions, +and may be said by his original discoveries to be +the <span class="sc">creator of facts</span>; often exciting the gratitude of +the literary world, while the very name of the benefactor has +not always descended with the inestimable labours.</p> + +<p>Such is the man whom we often find leaving, when he dies, +his favourite volumes only an incomplete project! and few of +this class of literary men have escaped the fate reserved for +most of their brothers. Voluminous works have been usually +left unfinished by the death of the authors; and it is with +them as with the planting of trees, of which Johnson has +forcibly observed, “There is a frightful interval between the +seed and timber.” And he admirably remarks, what I cannot +forbear applying to the labours I am now to describe: “He +that calculates the growth of trees has the remembrance of +the shortness of life driven hard upon him. He knows that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page494" id="page494"></a>494</span> +he is doing what will never benefit himself; and where he +rejoices to see the stem rise, is disposed to repine that another +shall cut it down.” The days of the patriotic Count Mazzuchelli +were freely given to his national literature; and six +invaluable folios attest the gigantic force of his immense erudition; +yet these only carry us through the letters A and B: +and though Mazzuchelli had finished for the press other +volumes, the torpor of his descendants has defrauded Europe +of her claims.<a name="FnAnchor_338" id="FnAnchor_338" href="#Footnote_338"><span class="sp">338</span></a> The Abbé Goujet, who had designed a classified +history of his national literature, in the eighteen volumes +we possess, could only conclude that of the translators, and +commence that of the poets; two other volumes in manuscript +have perished. That great enterprise of the Benedictines, +the “Histoire Litéraire de la France,” now consists +of twelve large quartos, and the industry of its successive +writers has only been able to carry it to the twelfth century. +David Clement designed the most extensive bibliography +which had ever appeared; but the diligent life of the writer +could only proceed as far as H. The alphabetical order, +which so many writers of this class have adopted, has proved +a mortifying memento of human life! Tiraboschi was so +fortunate as to complete his great national history of Italian +literature. But, unhappily for us, Thomas Warton, after +feeling his way through the darker ages of our poetry, in +planning the map of the beautiful land, of which he had only +a Pisgah-sight, expired amidst his volumes. The most precious +portion of Warton’s history is but the fragment of a fragment.</p> + +<p>Oldys, among this brotherhood, has met perhaps with a +harder fate; his published works, and the numerous ones to +which he contributed, are now highly appreciated by the lovers +of books; but the larger portion of his literary labours have +met with the sad fortune of dispersed, and probably of wasted +manuscripts. Oldys’s manuscripts, or O. M. as they are +sometimes designated, are constantly referred to by every +distinguished writer on our literary history. I believe that +not one of them could have given us any positive account +of the manuscripts themselves! They have indeed long +served as the solitary sources of information—but like the well +at the wayside, too many have drawn their waters in silence.</p> + +<p>Oldys is chiefly known by the caricature of the facetious +Grose; a great humourist, both with pencil and with pen: +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page495" id="page495"></a>495</span> +it is in a posthumous scrap-book, where Grose deposited his +odds and ends, and where there is perhaps not a single story +which is not satirical. Our lively antiquary, who cared more +for rusty armour than for rusty volumes, would turn over +these flams and quips to some confidential friend, to enjoy +together a secret laugh at their literary intimates. His eager +executor, who happened to be his bookseller, served up the +poignant hash to the public as “Grose’s Olio!”<a name="FnAnchor_339" id="FnAnchor_339" href="#Footnote_339"><span class="sp">339</span></a> The delineation +of Oldys is sufficiently overcharged for “the nonce.” +One prevalent infirmity of honest Oldys, his love of companionship +over too social a glass, sends him down to posterity in +a grotesque attitude; and Mr. Alexander Chalmers, who has +given us the fullest account of Oldys, has inflicted on him +something like a sermon, on “a state of intoxication.”</p> + +<p>Alas! Oldys was an outcast of fortune,<a name="FnAnchor_340" id="FnAnchor_340" href="#Footnote_340"><span class="sp">340</span></a> and the utter +simplicity of his heart was guileless as a child’s—ever open +to the designing. The noble spirit of a Duke of Norfolk +once rescued the long-lost historian of Rawleigh from the +confinement of the Fleet, where he had existed, probably +forgotten by the world, for six years. It was by an act of +grace that the duke safely placed Oldys in the Heralds’ College +as Norroy King of Arms.<a name="FnAnchor_341" id="FnAnchor_341" href="#Footnote_341"><span class="sp">341</span></a> But Oldys, like all shy and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page496" id="page496"></a>496</span> +retired men, had contracted peculiar habits and close attachments +for a few; both these he could indulge at no distance. +He liked his old associates in the purlieus of the Fleet, whom +he facetiously dignified as “his Rulers,” and there, as I have +heard, with the grotesque whim of a herald, established +“The Dragon Club.” Companionship yields the poor man +unpurchased pleasures. Oldys, busied every morning among +the departed wits and the learned of our country, reflected +some image from them of their wit and learning to his companions: +a secret history as yet untold, and ancient wit, +which, cleared of the rust, seemed to him brilliant as the +modern!</p> + +<p>It is hard, however, for a literary antiquary to be caricatured, +and for a herald to be ridiculed about an “unseemly +reeling with the coronet of the Princess Caroline, which +looked unsteady on the cushion, to the great scandal of his +brethren,”—a circumstance which could never have occurred +at the burial of a prince or princess, as the coronet is carried +by Clarencieux, and not by Norroy. Oldys’s deep potations +of ale, however, give me an opportunity of bestowing on him +the honour of being the author of a popular Anacreontic song. +Mr. Taylor informs me that “Oldys always asserted that he +was the author of the well-known song—</p> + +<p class="center1 f90">Busy, curious, thirsty fly!</p> + +<p class="noind">and as he was a rigid lover of truth, I doubt not that he +wrote it.” My own researches confirm it: I have traced this +popular song through a dozen of collections since the year +1740, the first in which I find it. In the later collections +an original inscription has been dropped, which the accurate +Ritson has restored, without, however, being able to discover +the writer. In 1740 it is said to have been “made extempore +by a gentleman, occasioned by a <i>fly</i> drinking out of his +<i>cup of ale</i>;”—the accustomed potion of poor Oldys!<a name="FnAnchor_342" id="FnAnchor_342" href="#Footnote_342"><span class="sp">342</span></a></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page497" id="page497"></a>497</span></p> + +<p>Grose, however, though a great joker on the peculiarities +of Oldys, was far from insensible to the extraordinary acquisitions +of the man. “His knowledge of English books has +hardly been exceeded.” Grose, too, was struck by the delicacy +of honour, and the unswerving veracity which so strongly +characterised Oldys, of which he gives a remarkable instance.<a name="FnAnchor_343" id="FnAnchor_343" href="#Footnote_343"><span class="sp">343</span></a> +We are concerned in ascertaining the moral integrity of the +writer, whose main business is with history.</p> + +<p>At a time when our literary history, excepting in the solitary +labour of Anthony Wood, was a forest, with neither road +nor pathway, Oldys, fortunately placed in the library of the +Earl of Oxford, yielded up his entire days to researches concerning +the books and the men of the preceding age. His +labours were then valueless, their very nature not yet ascertained, +and when he opened the treasures of our ancient lore +in “The British Librarian,” it was closed for want of public +encouragement. Our writers, then struggling to create an +age of genius of their own, forgot that they had had any +progenitors; or while they were acquiring new modes of +excellence, that they were losing others, to which their posterity +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page498" id="page498"></a>498</span> +or the national genius might return. (To know, and +to admire only, the literature and the tastes of our own age, +is a species of elegant barbarism.)<a name="FnAnchor_344" id="FnAnchor_344" href="#Footnote_344"><span class="sp">344</span></a> Spenser was considered +nearly as obsolete as Chaucer; Milton was veiled by oblivion, +and Shakspeare’s dramas were so imperfectly known, that in +looking over the play-bills of 1711, and much later, I find +that whenever it chanced that they were acted, they were +always announced to have been “written by Shakspeare.” +Massinger was unknown; and Jonson, though called “immortal” +in the old play-bills, lay entombed in his two folios. +The poetical era of Elizabeth, the eloquent age of James the +First, and the age of wit of Charles the Second, were blanks +in our literary history. Bysshe, compiling an Art of Poetry +in 1718, passed by in his collection “<i>Spenser and the poets +of his age</i>, because their language is now become so obsolete +that most readers of our age have no ear for them, and therefore +<i>Shakspeare</i> himself is so <i>rarely cited</i> in my collection.” +The <i>best</i> English poets were considered to be the <i>modern</i>; a +taste which is always obstinate!</p> + +<p>All this was nothing to Oldys; his literary curiosity anticipated +by half a century the fervour of the present day. This +energetic direction of all his thoughts was sustained by that +life of discovery which in literary researches is starting +novelties among old and unremembered things; contemplating +some ancient tract as precious as a manuscript, or +revelling in the volume of a poet whose passport of fame +was yet delayed in its way; or disinterring the treasure of +some secluded manuscript, whence he drew a virgin extract; +or raising up a sort of domestic intimacy with the eminent +in arms, in politics, and in literature in this visionary life, +life itself with Oldys was insensibly gliding away—its cares +almost unfelt!</p> + +<p>The life of a literary antiquary partakes of the nature of +those who, having no concerns of their own, busy themselves +with those of others. Oldys lived in the back ages of England; +he had crept among the dark passages of Time, till, +like an old gentleman usher, he seemed to be reporting the +secret history of the courts which he had lived in. He had +been charmed among their masques and revels, had eyed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page499" id="page499"></a>499</span> +with astonishment their cumbrous magnificence, when knights +and ladies carried on their mantles and their cloth of gold +ten thousand pounds’ worth of ropes of pearls, and buttons +of diamonds; or, descending to the gay court of the second +Charles, he tattled merry tales, as in that of the first he had +painfully watched, like a patriot or a loyalist, a distempered +era. He had lived so constantly with these people of another +age, and had so deeply interested himself in their affairs, and +so loved the wit and the learning which are often bright +under the rust of antiquity, that his own uncourtly style is +embrowned with the tint of a century old. But it was this +taste and curiosity which alone could have produced the +extraordinary volume of Sir Walter Rawleigh’s life—a work +richly inlaid with the most curious facts and the juxtaposition +of the most remote knowledge; to judge by its fulness +of narrative, it would seem rather to have been the work +of a contemporary.<a name="FnAnchor_345" id="FnAnchor_345" href="#Footnote_345"><span class="sp">345</span></a></p> + +<p>It was an advantage in this primæval era of literary curiosity, +that those volumes which are now not even to be +found in our national library, where certainly they are perpetually +wanted, and which are now so excessively appreciated, +were exposed on stalls, through the reigns of Anne +and the two Georges.<a name="FnAnchor_346" id="FnAnchor_346" href="#Footnote_346"><span class="sp">346</span></a> Oldys encountered no competitor, +cased in the invulnerable mail of his purse, to dispute his +possession of the rarest volume. On the other hand, our +early collector did not possess our advantages; he could not +fly for instant aid to a “Biographia Britannica,” he had no +history of our poetry, nor even of our drama. Oldys could +tread in no man’s path, for every soil about him was unbroken +ground. He had to create everything for his own purposes. +We gather fruit from trees which others have planted, and +too often we but “pluck and eat.”</p> + +<p><i>Nulla dies sine linea</i>, was his sole hope while he was accumulating +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page500" id="page500"></a>500</span> +masses of notes; and as Oldys never used his pen +from the weak passion of scribbling, but from the urgency of +preserving some substantial knowledge, or planning some +future inquiry, he amassed nothing but what he wished to +remember. Even the minuter pleasures of settling a date, or +classifying a title-page, were enjoyments to his incessant pen. +Everything was acquisition. This never-ending business of +research appears to have absorbed his powers, and sometimes +to have dulled his conceptions. No one more aptly exercised +the <i>tact</i> of discovery; he knew where to feel in the dark: but +he was not of the race—that race indeed had not yet appeared +among us—who could melt into their Corinthian +brass the mingled treasures of Research, Imagination, and +Philosophy!</p> + +<p>We may be curious to inquire where our literary antiquary +deposited the discoveries and curiosities which he was so incessantly +acquiring. They were dispersed, on many a fly-leaf, +in occasional memorandum-books; in ample marginal notes +on his authors—they were sometimes thrown into what he +calls his “parchment budgets,” or “Bags of Biography—of +Botany—of Obituary”—of “Books relative to London,” and +other titles and bags, which he was every day filling.<a name="FnAnchor_347" id="FnAnchor_347" href="#Footnote_347"><span class="sp">347</span></a> +Sometimes his collections seem to have been intended for a +series of volumes, for he refers to “My first Volume of Tables +of the eminent Persons celebrated by English Poets”—to +another of “Poetical Characteristics.” Among those manuscripts +which I have seen, I find one mentioned, apparently +of a wide circuit, under the reference of “My Biographical +Institutions. Part third; containing a Catalogue of all the +English Lives, with Historical and Critical Observations on +them.” But will our curious or our whimsical collectors of +the present day endure without impatience the loss of a +quarto manuscript, which bears this rich condiment for its +title—“Of London Libraries; with Anecdotes of Collectors +of Books; Remarks on Booksellers; and on the first Publishers +of Catalogues?” Oldys left ample annotations on +“Fuller’s Worthies,” and “Winstanley’s Lives of the Poets,” +and on “Langbaine’s Dramatic Poets.” The late Mr. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page501" id="page501"></a>501</span> +Boswell showed me a <i>Fuller</i> in the Malone collection, with +Steevens’s transcriptions of <i>Oldys’s notes</i>, which Malone purchased +for 43<i>l.</i> at Steevens’s sale; but where is the original +copy of Oldys? The “Winstanley,” I think, also reposes in +the same collection. The “Langbaine” is far-famed, and is +preserved in the British Museum, the gift of Dr. Birch; it has +been considered so precious, that several of our eminent writers +have cheerfully passed through the labour of a minute transcription +of its numberless notes. In the history of the fate +and fortune of books, that of Oldys’s <i>Langbaine</i> is too curious +to omit. Oldys may tell his own story, which I find in the +Museum copy, p. 336, and which copy appears to be a <i>second</i> +attempt; for of the <i>first</i> Langbaine we have this account:—</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>When I left London in 1724, to reside in <i>Yorkshire</i>, I left in the care of +the Rev. Mr. Burridge’s family, with whom I had several years lodged, +among many other books, goods, &c., a copy of this “Langbaine,” in +which I had wrote several notes and references to further knowledge of +these poets. When I returned to London, 1730, I understood my books +had been dispersed; and afterwards becoming acquainted with Mr. T. +Coxeter, I found that he had bought my “Langbaine” of a bookseller who +was a great collector of plays and poetical books: this must have been of +service to him, and he has kept it so carefully from my sight, that I never +could have the opportunity of transcribing into this I am now writing in +the notes I had collected in that.<a name="FnAnchor_348" id="FnAnchor_348" href="#Footnote_348"><span class="sp">348</span></a></p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page502" id="page502"></a>502</span></p> + +<p>This <i>first</i> Langbaine, with additions by Coxeter, was +bought, at the sale of his books, by Theophilus Cibber: on the +strength of these notes he prefixed his name to the first collection +of the “Lives of our Poets,” which appeared in weekly +numbers, and now form five volumes, written chiefly by Shiels, +an amanuensis of Dr. Johnson. Shiels has been recently +castigated by Mr. Gifford.</p> + +<p>These literary jobbers nowhere distinguished Coxeter’s and +Oldys’s curious matter from their own. Such was the fate of +the <i>first</i> copy of Langbaine, with <i>Oldys’s notes;</i> but the +<i>second</i> is more important. At an auction of some of Oldys’s +books and manuscripts, of which I have seen a printed catalogue, +Dr. Birch purchased this invaluable copy for three +shillings and sixpence.<a name="FnAnchor_349" id="FnAnchor_349" href="#Footnote_349"><span class="sp">349</span></a> Such was the value attached to +these original researches concerning our poets, and of which, +to obtain only a transcript, very large sums have since been +cheerfully given. The Museum copy of Langbaine is in +Oldys’s handwriting, not interleaved, but overflowing with +notes, written in a very small hand about the margins, and +inserted between the lines; nor may the transcriber pass negligently +even its corners, otherwise he is here assured that he +will lose some useful date, or the hint of some curious reference. +The enthusiasm and diligence of Oldys, in undertaking +a repetition of his first lost labour, proved to be infinitely +greater than the sense of his unrequited labours. Such is the +history of the escapes, the changes, and the fate of a volume +which forms the groundwork of the most curious information +concerning our elder poets, and to which we must still frequently +refer.</p> + +<p>In this variety of literary arrangements, which we must +consider as single works in a progressive state, or as portions +of one great work on our modern literary history, it may, +perhaps, be justly suspected that Oldys, in the delight of +perpetual acquisition, impeded the happier labour of unity of +design and completeness of purpose. He was not a Tiraboschi—nor +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page503" id="page503"></a>503</span> +even a Niceron! He was sometimes chilled by +neglect, and by “vanity and vexation of spirit,” else we should +not now have to count over a barren list of manuscript +works; masses of literary history, of which the existence is +even doubtful.</p> + +<p>In Kippis’s Biographia Britannica we find frequent references +to O. M., Oldys’s Manuscripts. Mr. John Taylor, the +son of the friend and executor of Oldys, has greatly obliged +me with all his recollections of this man of letters; whose +pursuits, however, were in no manner analogous to his, and +whom he could only have known in youth. By him I learn, +that on the death of Oldys, Dr. Kippis, editor of the Biographia +Britannica, looked over these manuscripts at Mr. Taylor’s +house. He had been directed to this discovery by the late +Bishop of Dromore, whose active zeal was very remarkable in +every enterprise to enlarge our literary history. Kippis was +one who, in some degree, might have estimated their literary +value; but, employed by commercial men, and negotiating +with persons who neither comprehended their nature, nor +affixed any value to them, the editor of the Biographia found +Oldys’s manuscripts an easy purchase for his employer, the +late Mr. Cadell; and the twenty guineas, perhaps, served to +bury their writer! Mr. Taylor says—“The manuscripts of +Oldys were not so many as might be expected from so indefatigable +a writer. They consisted chiefly of short extracts +from books, and minutes of dates, and were <i>thought worth purchasing</i> +by the doctor. I remember the manuscripts well; +though Oldys was not the author, but rather recorder.” Such +is the statement and the opinion of a writer whose effusions +are of a gayer sort. But the researches of Oldys must not +be estimated by this standard; with him a single line was +the result of many a day of research, and a leaf of scattered +hints would supply more <i>original knowledge</i> than some +octavos fashioned out by the hasty gilders and varnishers of +modern literature. These <i>discoveries</i> occupy small space to +the eye; but large works are composed out of them. This +very lot of Oldys’s manuscripts was, indeed, so considerable +in the judgment of Kippis, that he has described them as “<i>a +large and useful body of biographical materials, left by Mr. +Oldys</i>.” Were these the “Biographical Institutes” Oldys +refers to among his manuscripts? “The late Mr. Malone,” +continues Mr. Taylor, “told me that he had seen <i>all Oldys’s +manuscripts</i>; so I presume they are in the hands of Cadell +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page504" id="page504"></a>504</span> +and Davies.” Have they met with the fate of sucked +oranges?—and how much of Malone may we owe to Oldys?</p> + +<p>This information enabled me to trace the manuscripts of +Oldys to Dr. Kippis; but it cast me among the booksellers, +who do not value manuscripts which no one can print. I +discovered, by the late Mr. Davies, that the direction of that +hapless work in our literary history, with its whole treasure +of manuscripts, had been consigned by Mr. Cadell to the +late <span class="correction" title="corrected from Geroge">George</span> Robinson, and that the successor of Dr. Kippis +had been the late Dr. George Gregory. Again I repeat, the +history of voluminous works is a melancholy office; every +one concerned with them no longer can be found! The +esteemed relict of Dr. Gregory, with a friendly promptitude, +gratified my anxious inquiries, and informed me, that “she +perfectly recollects a mass of papers, such as I described, being +returned, on the death of Dr. Gregory, to the house of Wilkie +and Robinson, in the early part of the year 1809.” I applied +to this house, who, after some time, referred me to Mr. John +Robinson, the representative of his late father, and with +whom all the papers of the former partnership were deposited. +But Mr. John Robinson has terminated my inquiries, by his +civility in promising to comply with them, and his pertinacity +in not doing so. He may have injured his own interest +in not trading with my curiosity.<a name="FnAnchor_350" id="FnAnchor_350" href="#Footnote_350"><span class="sp">350</span></a> It was fortunate for the +nation that George Vertue’s mass of manuscripts escaped the +fate of Oldys’s; had the possessor proved as indolent, Horace +Walpole would not have been the writer of his most valuable +work, and we should have lost the “Anecdotes of Painting,” +of which Vertue had collected the materials.</p> + +<p>Of a life consumed in such literary activity we should have +known more had the <i>Diaries</i> of Oldys escaped destruction. +“One habit of my father’s old friend, William Oldys,” says +Mr. Taylor, “was that of keeping a diary, and recording in +it every day all the events that occurred, and all his engagements, +and the employment of his time. I have seen +piles of these books, but know not what became of them.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page505" id="page505"></a>505</span> +The existence of such <i>diaries</i> is confirmed by a sale catalogue +of Thomas Davies, the literary bookseller, who sold many of +the books and <i>some manuscripts of Oldys</i>, which appear to +have been dispersed in various libraries. I find Lot “3627, +Mr. Oldys’s Diary, containing several observations relating +to books, characters, &c.;” a single volume, which appears to +have separated from the “piles” which Mr. Taylor once witnessed. +The literary diary of Oldys could have exhibited +the mode of his pursuits, and the results of his discoveries. +One of these volumes I have fortunately discovered, and a +singularity in this writer’s feelings throws a new interest over +such diurnal records. Oldys was apt to give utterance with +his pen to his most secret emotions. Querulous or indignant, +his honest simplicity confided to the paper before him such +extemporaneous soliloquies, and I have found him hiding in +the very corners of his manuscripts his “secret sorrows.”</p> + +<p>A few of these slight memorials of his feelings will exhibit +a sort of <i>Silhouette</i> likeness traced by his own hand, when at +times the pensive man seems to have contemplated his own +shadow. Oldys would throw down in verses, whose humility +or quaintness indicates their origin, or by some pithy adage, +or apt quotation, or recording anecdote, his self-advice, or his +self-regrets!</p> + +<p>Oppressed by a sense of tasks so unprofitable to himself, +while his days were often passed in trouble and in prison, he +breathes a self-reproach in one of these profound reflections +of melancholy which so often startle the man of study, who +truly discovers that life is too limited to acquire real knowledge, +with the ambition of dispensing it to the world:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>I say, who too long in these cobwebs lurks,</p> +<p>Is always whetting tools, but never works.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>In one of the corners of his note-books I find this curious +but sad reflection:—</p> + +<p class="center1 f90">Alas! this is but the apron of a fig-leaf—but the curtain of a cobweb.</p> + +<p>Sometimes he seems to have anticipated the fate of that +obscure diligence which was pursuing discoveries reserved +for others to use:—</p> + +<p class="center1 f90">He heapeth up riches, and knoweth not who shall gather them.</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + + <p>Fond treasurer of these stores, behold thy fate</p> + <p>In Psalm the thirty-ninth, 6, 7, and 8.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page506" id="page506"></a>506</span></p> + +<p class="noind">Sometimes he checks the eager ardour of his pen, and reminds +himself of its repose, in Latin, Italian, and English.</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>————Non vi, sed sæpe cadendo.</p> +<p>Assai presto si fa quel che si fa bene.</p> + +<p class="s">Some respite best recovers what we need,</p> +<p>Discreetly baiting gives the journey speed.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>There was a thoughtless kindness in honest Oldys; and +his simplicity of character, as I have observed, was practised +on by the artful or the ungenerous. We regret to find +the following entry concerning the famous collector, James +West:—</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>I gave above threescore letters of Dr. Davenant to his son, who was +envoy at Frankfort in 1703 to 1708, to Mr. James West,<a name="FnAnchor_351" id="FnAnchor_351" href="#Footnote_351"><span class="sp">351</span></a> with one hundred +and fifty more, about Christmas, 1746: but the same fate they found +as grain that is sown in barren ground.</p> +</div> + +<p>Such is the plaintive record by which Oldys relieved himself +of a groan! We may smile at the simplicity of the following +narrative, where poor Oldys received manuscripts in +lieu of money:—</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>Old Counsellor Fane, of Colchester, who, <i>in formâ pauperis</i>, deceived +me of a good sum of money which he owed me, and not long after set up +his chariot, gave me a parcel of manuscripts, and promised me others, +which he never gave me, nor anything else, besides a barrel of oysters, and +a manuscript copy of Randolph’s poems, an original, as he said, with many +additions, being devolved to him as the author’s relation.</p> +</div> + +<p>There was no end to his aids and contributions to every +author or bookseller who applied to him; yet he had reason +to complain of both while they were using his invaluable +but not valued knowledge. Here is one of these diurnal +entries:—</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>I lent the tragical lives and deaths of the famous pirates, Ward and +Dansiker, 4to, London, 1612, by Robt. Daborn, alias Dabourne, to Mr. +T. Lediard, when he was writing his Naval History, and he never returned +it. See Howell’s Letters of them.</p> +</div> + +<p>In another, when his friend T. Hayward was collecting, +for his “British Muse,” the most exquisite commonplaces of +our old English dramatists, a compilation which must not be +confounded with ordinary ones, Oldys not only assisted in the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page507" id="page507"></a>507</span> +labour, but drew up a curious introduction with a knowledge +and love of the subject which none but himself possessed. +But so little were these researches then understood, that we +find Oldys, in a moment of vexatious recollection, and in a +corner of one of the margins of his Langbaine, accidentally +preserving an extraordinary circumstance attending this +curious dissertation. Oldys having completed this elaborate +introduction, “the penurious publisher insisted on leaving out +one third part, which happened to be the best matter in it, +because he would have it contracted into <i>one sheet</i>!” Poor +Oldys never could forget the fate of this elaborate Dissertation +on all the collections of English poetry; I am confident +that I have seen some volume which was formerly +Oldys’s, and afterwards Thomas Warton’s, in the possession +of my intelligent friend Mr. Douce, in the fly-leaf of which +Oldys has expressed himself in these words:—“In my historical +and critical review of all the collections of this kind, +it would have made a sheet and a half or two sheets; but +they for sordid gain, and to save a little expense in print and +paper, got Mr. John Campbell <i>to cross it and cramp it, and +play the devil with it, till they squeezed it into less compass +than a sheet</i>.” This is a loss which we may never recover. +The curious book-knowledge of this singular man of letters, +those stores of which he was the fond treasurer, as he says +with such tenderness for his pursuits, were always ready to +be cast into the forms of a dissertation or an introduction; +and when Morgan published his Collection of Rare Tracts, +the friendly hand of Oldys furnished “A Dissertation upon +Pamphlets, in a Letter to a Nobleman;” probably the Earl +of Oxford, a great literary curiosity; and in the Harleian +Collection he has given a <i>Catalogue raisonné</i> of six hundred. +When Mrs. Cooper attempted “The Muse’s Library,” the +first essay which influenced the national taste to return to +our deserted poets in our most poetical age, it was Oldys who +only could have enabled this lady to perform that task so +well.<a name="FnAnchor_352" id="FnAnchor_352" href="#Footnote_352"><span class="sp">352</span></a> When Curll, the publisher, to help out one of his +hasty compilations, a “History of the Stage,” repaired, like +all the world, to Oldys, whose kindness could not resist the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page508" id="page508"></a>508</span> +importunity of this busy publisher, he gave him a life of +Nell Gwynn; while at the same moment Oldys could not +avoid noticing, in one of his usual entries, an intended work +on the stage, which we seem never to have had, “<i>Dick +Leveridge’s History of the Stage and Actors in his own +Time</i>, for these forty or fifty years past, as he told me he had +composed, is likely to prove, whenever it shall appear, a more +perfect work.” I might proceed with many similar gratuitous +contributions with which he assisted his contemporaries. +Oldys should have been constituted the reader for +the nation. His <i>Comptes Rendus</i> of books and manuscripts +are still held precious; but his useful and curious talent had +sought the public patronage in vain! From one of his +“Diaries,” which has escaped destruction, I transcribe some +interesting passages <i>ad verbum</i>.</p> + +<p>The reader is here presented with a minute picture of +those invisible occupations which pass in the study of a man +of letters. There are those who may be surprised, as well as +amused, in discovering how all the business, even to the very +disappointments and pleasures of active life, can be transferred +to the silent chamber of a recluse student; but there are +others who will not read without emotion the secret +thoughts of him who, loving literature with its purest passion, +scarcely repines at being defrauded of his just fame, and +leaves his stores for the after-age of his more gifted heirs. +Thus we open one of Oldys’s literary days:—</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>I was informed that day by Mr. Tho. Odell’s daughter, that her father, +who was Deputy-Inspector and Licenser of the Plays, died 24 May, 1749, at +his house in Chappel-street, Westminster, aged 58 years. He was writing +a history of the characters he had observed, and conferences he had had +with many eminent persons he knew in his time. He was a great observator +of everything curious in the conversations of his acquaintance, and +his own conversation was a living chronicle of the remarkable intrigues, +adventures, sayings, stories, writings, &c., of many of the quality, poets, +and other authors, players, booksellers, &c., who flourished especially in +the present century. He had been a popular man at elections, and sometime +master of the playhouse in Goodman’s Fields, but latterly was forced +to live reserved and retired by reason of his debts. He published two or +three dramatic pieces, one was the <i>Patron</i>, on the story of Lord Romney.</p> + +<p>Q. of his da. to restore me Eustace Budgell’s papers, and to get a sight +of her father’s.</p> + +<p>Have got the one, and seen the other.</p> + +<p>July 31.—Was at Mrs. Odell’s; she returned me Mr. Budgell’s papers. +Saw some of her husband’s papers, mostly poems in favour of the ministry, +and against Mr. Pope. One of them, printed by the late Sir Robert Walpole’s +encouragement, who gave him ten guineas for writing and as much +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page509" id="page509"></a>509</span> +for the expense of printing it; but through his advice it was never published, +because it might hurt his interest with Lord Chesterfield, and some +other noblemen who favoured Mr. Pope for his fine genius. The tract I +liked best of his writings was the history of his playhouse in Goodman’s +Fields. (Remember that which was published against that playhouse, +which I have entered in my London Catalogue. Letter to Sir Ric. Brocas, +Lord Mayor, &c., 8vo, 1730.)</p> + +<p>Saw nothing of the history of his conversations with ingenious men; his +characters, tales, jests, and intrigues of them, of which no man was better +furnished with them. She thinks she has some papers of these, and promises +to look them out, and also to inquire after Mr. Griffin, of the Lord +Chamberlain’s office, that I may get a search made about <i>Spenser</i>.</p> +</div> + +<p>So intent was Oldys on these literary researches that we +see, by the last words of this entry, how in hunting after +one sort of game, his undivided zeal kept his eye on another. +One of his favourite subjects was the realising of original discoveries +respecting Spenser and Shakspeare; of whom, perhaps, +to our shame, as it is to our vexation, it may be said +that two of our master-poets are those of whom we know +the least! Oldys once flattered himself that he should be +able to have given the world a Life of Shakspeare. Mr. John +Taylor informs me, that “Oldys had contracted to supply +ten years of the life of Shakspeare <i>unknown to the biographers</i>, +with one Walker, a bookseller in the Strand; and as Oldys +did not live to fulfil the engagement, my father was obliged +to return to Walker twenty guineas which he had advanced +on the work.” <i>That interesting narrative is now hopeless +for us.</i> Yet, by the solemn contract into which Oldys had +entered, and from his strict integrity, it might induce one to +suspect that he had made positive discoveries which are now +irrecoverable.</p> + +<p>We may observe the manner of his anxious inquiries about +<i>Spenser</i>:—</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>Ask Sir Peter Thompson if it were improper to try if Lord Effingham +Howard would procure the pedigrees in the Herald’s office, to be seen for +Edmund Spenser’s parentage or family? or how he was related to Sir John +Spenser of Althorpe, in Northamptonshire? to three of whose daughters, +who all married nobility, Spenser dedicates three of his poems.</p> + +<p>Of Mr. Vertue, to examine Stowe’s memorandum-book. Look more +carefully for the year when Spenser’s monument was raised, or between +which years the entry stands—1623 and 1626.</p> + +<p>Sir Clement Cottrell’s book about Spenser.</p> + +<p>Captain Power, to know if he has heard from Capt. Spenser about my +letter of inquiries relating to Edward Spenser.</p> + +<p>Of Whiston, to examine if my remarks on Spenser are complete as to +the press—Yes.</p> + +<p>Remember, when I see Mr. W. Thompson, to inquire whether he has +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page510" id="page510"></a>510</span> +printed in any of his works any other character of our old poets than +those of Spenser and Shakspeare;<a name="FnAnchor_353" id="FnAnchor_353" href="#Footnote_353"><span class="sp">353</span></a> and to get the liberty of a visit at +Kentish Town, to see his <i>Collection of Robert Greene’s Works</i>, in about +<i>four large volumes quarto</i>. He commonly published a pamphlet every +term, as his acquaintance Tom Nash informs us.</p> +</div> + +<p>Two or three other memorials may excite a smile at his +peculiar habits of study, and unceasing vigilance to draw +from original sources of information.</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p><i>Dryden’s Dream</i>, at Lord Exeter’s, at Burleigh, while he was translating +Virgil, as Signior Verrio, then painting there, related it to the +Yorkshire painter, of whom I had it, lies in <i>the parchment book in +quarto</i>, designed for his life.</p> +</div> + +<p>At a subsequent period Oldys inserts, “Now entered +therein.” Malone quotes this very memorandum, which he +discovered in <i>Oldys’s Langbaine</i>, to show Dryden had some +confidence in Oneirocriticism, and supposed that future events +were sometimes prognosticated by dreams. Malone adds, +“Where either the <i>loose</i> prophetic <i>leaf</i> or the <i>parchment +book</i> now is, I know not.”<a name="FnAnchor_354" id="FnAnchor_354" href="#Footnote_354"><span class="sp">354</span></a></p> + +<p>Unquestionably we have incurred a great loss in Oldys’s +collections for Dryden’s Life, which are very extensive; such a +mass of literary history cannot have perished unless by accident; +and I suspect that many of <i>Oldys’s manuscripts</i> are +in the possession of individuals who are not acquainted with +his hand-writing, which may be easily verified.</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>To search the old papers in one of my large deal boxes for Dryden’s +letter of thanks to my father, for some communication relating to Plutarch, +while they and others were publishing a translation of Plutarch’s +Lives, in five volumes 8vo. 1683. It is copied in <i>the yellow book for +Dryden’s Life</i>, in which there are about 150 transcriptions, in prose and +verse, relating to the life, character, and writings of Dryden.—Is England’s +Remembrancer extracted out of my <i>obit.</i> (obituary) into my remarks +on him in the <i>poetical bag</i>?</p> + +<p>My extracts in the <i>parchment budget</i> about Denham’s seat and family +in Surrey.</p> + +<p>My <i>white vellum pocket-book</i>, bordered with gold, for the extract from +“Groans of Great Britain” about Butler.</p> + +<p>See my account of the great yews in Tankersley’s park, while Sir R. +Fanshaw was prisoner in the lodge there; especially Talbot’s yew, which +a man on horseback might turn about in, in my <i>botanical budget</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page511" id="page511"></a>511</span></p> + +<p>This Donald Lupton I have mentioned in my <i>catalogue</i> of all the +books and pamphlets relative to London in folio, begun anno 1740, and in +which I have now, 1740, entered between 300 and 400 articles, besides +remarks, &c. Now, in June, 1748, between 400 and 500 articles. Now, +in October, 1750, six hundred and thirty-six.<a name="FnAnchor_355" id="FnAnchor_355" href="#Footnote_355"><span class="sp">355</span></a></p> +</div> + +<p>There remains to be told an anecdote which shows that +Pope greatly regarded our literary antiquary. “Oldys,” +says my friend, “was one of the librarians of the Earl of +Oxford, and he used to tell a story of the credit which he obtained +as a scholar, by setting Pope right in a Latin quotation +which he made at the earl’s table. He did not, however, +as I remember, boast of having been admitted as a +guest at the table, but as happening to be in the room.” +Why might not Oldys, however, have been seated, at least +below the salt? It would do no honour to either party to +suppose that Oldys stood among the menials. The truth is, +there appears to have existed a confidential intercourse +between Pope and Oldys; of this I shall give a remarkable +proof. In those fragments of Oldys, preserved as “additional +anecdotes of Shakspeare,” in Steevens’s and Malone’s +editions, Oldys mentions a story of Davenant, +which, he adds, “Mr. Pope told me at the Earl of +Oxford’s table!” And further relates a conversation which +passed between them. Nor is this all; for in Oldys’s +Langbaine he put down this memorandum in the article of +<i>Shakspeare</i>—“Remember what I observed to my Lord +Oxford for Mr. Pope’s use out of Cowley’s preface.” Malone +appears to have discovered this observation of Cowley’s, +which is curious enough, and very ungrateful to that +commentator’s ideas: it is “to prune and lop away the +old withered branches” in the new editions of Shakspeare +and other ancient poets! “Pope adopted,” says Malone, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page512" id="page512"></a>512</span> +“this very unwarrantable idea; Oldys was the person who +suggested to Pope the singular course he pursued in his +edition of Shakspeare.” Without touching on the felicity or +the danger of this new system of republishing Shakspeare, +one may say that if many passages were struck out, Shakspeare +would not be injured, for many of them were never +composed by that great bard! There not only existed a +literary intimacy between Oldys and Pope, but our poet +adopting his suggestions on so important an occasion, evinces +how highly he esteemed his judgment; and unquestionably +Pope had often been delighted by Oldys with the history of +his predecessors, and the curiosities of English poetry.</p> + +<p>I have now introduced the reader to Oldys sitting amidst +his “poetical bags,” his “parchment biographical budgets,” +his “catalogues,” and his “diaries,” often venting a solitary +groan, or active in some fresh inquiry. Such is the <i>Silhouette</i> +of this prodigy of literary curiosity!</p> + +<p>The very existence of Oldys’s manuscripts continues to be +of an ambiguous nature; referred to, quoted, and transcribed, +we can but seldom turn to the originals. These masses of +curious knowledge, dispersed or lost, have enriched an after-race, +who have often picked up the spoil and claimed the +victory, but it was Oldys who had fought the battle!</p> + +<p>Oldys affords one more example how life is often closed +amidst discoveries and acquisitions. The literary antiquary, +when he has attempted to embody his multiplied inquiries, +and to finish his scattered designs, has found that the <span class="sc">labor +absque labore</span>, “the labour void of labour,” as the inscription +on the library of Florence finely describes the researches +of literature, has dissolved his days in the voluptuousness of +his curiosity; and that too often, like the hunter in the heat +of the chase, while he disdained the prey which lay before him, +he was still stretching onwards to catch the fugitive!</p> + +<p class="center1 f90"><i>Transvolat in medio posita, et fugientia captat.</i></p> + +<p>At the close of every century, in this growing world of +books, may an Oldys be the reader for the nation! Should +he be endowed with a philosophical spirit, and combine +the genius of his own times with that of the preceding, he +will hold in his hand the chain of human thoughts, and, +like another Bayle, become the historian of the human mind!</p> + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_338" id="Footnote_338" href="#FnAnchor_338"><span class="fn">338</span></a> His intention was to publish a general classified biography of all the +Italian authors.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_339" id="Footnote_339" href="#FnAnchor_339"><span class="fn">339</span></a> He says in his advertisement, “It will be difficult to ascertain whether +he meant to give them to the public, or only to reserve them for his +own amusement and the entertainment of his friends.” Many of these +anecdotes are evidently mere loose scandal.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_340" id="Footnote_340" href="#FnAnchor_340"><span class="fn">340</span></a> Grose narrates his early history thus:—“His parents dying when he +was very young, he soon squandered away his small patrimony, when he became, +at first an attendant in Lord Oxford’s library, and afterwards librarian; +at whose death he was obliged to write for the booksellers for a +subsistence.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_341" id="Footnote_341" href="#FnAnchor_341"><span class="fn">341</span></a> Mr. John Taylor, the son of Oldys’s intimate friend, has furnished +me with this interesting anecdote. “Oldys, as my father informed me, +was many years in quiet obscurity in the Fleet prison, but at last was +spirited up to make his situation known to the Duke of Norfolk of that +time, who received Oldys’s letter while he was at dinner with some friends. +The duke immediately communicated the contents to the company, observing +that he had long been anxious to know what had become of an old, +though an humble friend, and was happy by that letter to find that he +was alive. He then called for his <i>gentleman</i> (a kind of humble friend +whom noblemen used to retain under that name in those days), and desired +him to go immediately to the Fleet, to take money for the immediate +need of Oldys, to procure an account of his debts, and discharge them. +Oldys was soon after, either by the duke’s gift or interest, appointed Norroy +King of Arms; and I remember that his official regalia came into my +father’s hands at his death.”</p> + +<p>In the “Life of Oldys,” by Mr. A. Chalmers, the date of this promotion +is not found. My accomplished friend, the Rev. J. Dallaway, has obligingly +examined the records of the college, by which it appears that Oldys +had been <i>Norfolk herald extraordinary</i>, but not belonging to the college, +was appointed <i>per saltum</i> Norroy King of Arms by patent, May 5th, 1755.</p> + +<p>Grose says—“The patronage of the duke occasioned a suspicion of his +being a papist, though I think really without reason; this for a while retarded +his appointment: it was underhand propagated by the heralds, who +were vexed at having a stranger put in upon them.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_342" id="Footnote_342" href="#FnAnchor_342"><span class="fn">342</span></a> The beautiful simplicity of this Anacreontic has met the unusual fate +of entirely losing its character, by an additional and incongruous stanza in +the modern editions, by a gentleman who has put into practice the unallowable +liberty of <i>altering</i> the poetical and dramatic compositions of acknowledged +genius to his own notion of what he deems “morality;” but +in works of genius whatever is dull ceases to be moral. “The Fly” of +Oldys may stand by “The Fly” of Gray for melancholy tenderness of +thought; it consisted only of these two stanzas:</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr" style="font-size: 100%;"> + +<p>Busy, curious, thirsty fly!</p> +<p>Drink with me, and drink as I!</p> +<p>Freely welcome to my cup,</p> +<p>Couldst thou sip and sip it up:</p> +<p>Make the most of life you may;</p> +<p>Life is short and wears away!</p> + +<p class="s">Both alike are mine and thine,</p> +<p>Hastening quick to their decline!</p> +<p>Thine’s a summer, mine no more,</p> +<p>Though repeated to threescore!</p> +<p>Threescore summers when they’re gone,</p> +<p>Will appear as short as one!</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p><a name="Footnote_343" id="Footnote_343" href="#FnAnchor_343"><span class="fn">343</span></a> This anecdote should be given in justice to both parties, and in Grose’s +words, who says:—“He was a man of great good-nature, honour, and integrity, +particularly in his character of an historian. Nothing, I firmly +believe, would ever have biassed him to insert any fact in his writings he +did not believe, or to suppress any he did. Of this delicacy he gave an +instance at a time when he was in great distress. After his publication +of the ‘Life of Sir Walter Raleigh,’ some booksellers thinking his name +would sell a piece they were publishing, offered him a considerable sum to +father it, which he rejected with the greatest indignation.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_344" id="Footnote_344" href="#FnAnchor_344"><span class="fn">344</span></a> We have been taught to enjoy the two ages of Genius and of Taste. +The literary public are deeply indebted to the editorial care, the taste, +and the enthusiasm of Mr. Singer, for exquisite reprints of some valuable +writers.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_345" id="Footnote_345" href="#FnAnchor_345"><span class="fn">345</span></a> Gibbon once meditated a life of Rawleigh, and for that purpose began +some researches in that “memorable era of our English annals.” After +reading Oldys’s, he relinquished his design, from a conviction that “he +could add nothing new to the subject, except the uncertain merit of style +and sentiment.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_346" id="Footnote_346" href="#FnAnchor_346"><span class="fn">346</span></a> The British Museum is extremely deficient in our National Literature. +The gift of George the Third’s library has, however, probably supplied +many deficiencies. [The recent bequest of the Grenville collection, and the +constant search made of late years for these relics of early literature by the +officers of our great national library, has greatly altered the state of the +collection since the above was written <i>s—Ed</i>.]</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_347" id="Footnote_347" href="#FnAnchor_347"><span class="fn">347</span></a> Grose says—“His mode of composing was somewhat singular: he had +a number of small parchment bags, inscribed with the names of the persons +whose lives he intended to write; into these bags he put every circumstance +and anecdote he could collect, and from thence drew up his +history.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_348" id="Footnote_348" href="#FnAnchor_348"><span class="fn">348</span></a> At the Bodleian Library, I learnt by a letter with which I am favoured +by the Rev. Dr. Bliss, that there is an interleaved “Gildon’s Lives and +Characters of the Dramatic Poets,” with corrections, which once belonged +to Coxeter, who appears to have intended a new edition. Whether Coxeter +transcribed into his Gildon the notes of Oldys’s <i>first</i> “Langbaine,” +is worth inquiry. Coxeter’s conduct, though he had purchased Oldys’s +first “Langbaine,” was that of an ungenerous miser, who will quarrel with a +brother rather than share in any acquisition he can get into his own hands. +To Coxeter we also owe much; he suggested Dodsley’s Collection of Old +Plays, and the first tolerable edition of Massinger.</p> + +<p>Oldys could not have been employed in Lord Oxford’s library, as Mr. +Chalmers conjectures, about 1726; for here he mentions that he was in <i>Yorkshire</i> +from 1724 to 1730. This period is a remarkable blank in Oldys’s +life. My learned friend, the Rev. Joseph Hunter, has supplied me with a +note in the copy of Fuller in the Malone collection preserved at the Bodleian. +Those years were passed apparently in the household of the first +Earl of Malton, who built Wentworth House. There all the collections of +the antiquary Gascoigne, with “seven great chests of manuscripts,” some +as ancient as the time of the Conquest, were condemned in one solemn +sacrifice to Vulcan; the ruthless earl being impenetrable to the prayers +and remonstrances of our votary to English History. Oldys left the earl +with little satisfaction, as appears by some severe strictures from his +gentle pen.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_349" id="Footnote_349" href="#FnAnchor_349"><span class="fn">349</span></a> This copy was lent by Dr. Birch to the late Bishop of Dromore, who +with his own hand carefully transcribed the notes into an interleaved copy +of “Langbaine,” divided into four volumes, which, as I am informed, narrowly +escaped the flames, and was injured by the water, at a fire at Northumberland +House. His lordship, when he went to Ireland, left this copy with +Mr. Nichols, for the use of the projected editions of the <i>Tatler</i>, the <i>Spectator</i>, +and the <i>Guardian</i>, with notes and illustrations; of which I think the +<i>Tatler</i> only has appeared, and to which his lordship contributed some +valuable communications.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_350" id="Footnote_350" href="#FnAnchor_350"><span class="fn">350</span></a> I know that not only this lot of <i>Oldys’s manuscripts</i>, but a great +quantity of <i>original contributions</i> of whole lives, intended for the “Biographia +Britannica,” must lie together, unless they have been destroyed as +waste paper. These biographical and literary curiosities were often supplied +by the families or friends of eminent persons. Some may, perhaps, +have been reclaimed by their owners. I am informed there was among +them an interesting collection of the correspondence of Locke; and I could +mention several lives which were prepared.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_351" id="Footnote_351" href="#FnAnchor_351"><span class="fn">351</span></a> This collection, and probably the other letters, have come down to us, +no doubt, with the manuscripts of this collector, purchased for the British +Museum. The correspondence of Dr. Davenant, the political writer, with +his son, the envoy, turns on one perpetual topic, his son’s and his own advancement +in the state.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_352" id="Footnote_352" href="#FnAnchor_352"><span class="fn">352</span></a> It is a stout octavo volume of 400 pages, containing a good selection of +specimens from the earliest era, concluding with Sam. Daniel, in the reign +of James I. Mrs. Elizabeth Cooper was the wife of an auctioneer, who +had been a chum of Oldys’s in the Fleet Prison, where he died a +debtor; and it was to aid his widow that Oldys edited this book.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_353" id="Footnote_353" href="#FnAnchor_353"><span class="fn">353</span></a> William Thompson, the poet of “Sickness,” and other poems; a warm +lover of our elder bards, and no vulgar imitator of Spenser. He was the +revivor of Bishop Hall’s Satires, in 1753, by an edition which had been +more fortunate if conducted by his friend Oldys, for the text is unfaithful, +though the edition followed was one borrowed from Lord Oxford’s library, +probably by the aid of Oldys.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_354" id="Footnote_354" href="#FnAnchor_354"><span class="fn">354</span></a> Malone’s Life of Dryden, p. 420.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_355" id="Footnote_355" href="#FnAnchor_355"><span class="fn">355</span></a> This is one of <i>Oldys’s Manuscripts</i>; a thick folio of titles, which has +been made to do its duty, with small thanks from those who did not care +to praise the service which they derived from it. It passed from Dr. +Berkenhout to George Steevens, who lent it to Gough. It was sold for +five guineas. The useful work of ten years of attention given to it! The +antiquary Gough alludes to it with his usual discernment. “Among these +titles of books and pamphlets about London are many <i>purely historical</i>, +and many of <i>too low a kind</i> to rank under the head of topography and +history.” Thus the design of Oldys, in forming this elaborate collection, +is condemned by trying it by the limited object of the topographer’s view. +This catalogue remains a desideratum, were it printed entire as collected +by Oldys, not merely for the topography of the metropolis, but for its relation +to its manners, domestic annals, events, and persons connected with +its history.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page513" id="page513"></a>513</span></p> +<h3>INDEX.</h3> + +<div class="index"> +<p><span class="sc">Abelard</span>, ranks among the heretics, i. 145; + book condemned as his written by another, ib.; + absolution granted to, 146; + wrote and <i>sung</i> finely, 147; + raises the school of the Paraclete, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Abram-men</span>, ii. 312, and note, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Abridgers</span>, objections to, and recommendations of, i. 397; + Bayle’s advice to, 398; + now slightly regarded, 399; + instructions to, quoted from the Book of Maccabees, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Absence</span> of mind, anecdotes of, i. 206.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Absolute</span> monarchy, search for precedents to maintain, iii. <a href="#page510">510</a>, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Abstraction</span> of mind, instances of, amongst great men, ii. 59-60; + sonnet on, by Metastasio, 61.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Academy</span>, the French, some account of, i. 413-417; + visit of Christina Queen of Sweden to, 414; + of Literature, designed in the reign of Queen Anne, ii. 407; + abortive attempts to establish various, ib.; + disadvantages of, ib.; + arguments of the advocates for, ib.; + should be designed by individuals, 408; + French origin of, 408-410; + origin of the Royal Society, 410-412; + ridiculous titles of Italian, 479; + some account of the Arcadian, and its service to literature, 482; + derivation of its title, ib.; + of the Colombaria, 483; + indications of, in England, 484; + early rise of among the Italians, 485; + establishment of the “Academy,” 486; + suppressed, and its members persecuted, ib.; + of the “Oziosi,” 488; + suppression of many, at Florence and Sienna, ib.; + considerations of the reason of the Italian fantastical titles of, &c., 489.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Acajou</span> and Zirphile, a whimsical fairy tale, ii. 308-311.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Accademia</span> of Bologna originated with Lodovico Caracci, ii. 399.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Accident</span>, instances of the pursuits of great men directed by, i. 85.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Acephali</span>, iii. <a href="#page193">193</a>, and note, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Aches</span>, formerly a dissyllable; examples from Swift, Hudibras, and Shakespeare; John Kemble’s use of the word, i. 81, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Acrostics</span>, i. 295-296.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Actors</span>, tragic, i. 248; + who have died martyrs to their tragic characters, 249; + should be nursed in the laps of queens, 250; + anecdotes of, 250-251.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Addison</span>, silent among strangers, i. 104.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Adriani</span>, his continuation of Guicciardini’s History, iii. <a href="#page180">180</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Advice</span>, good, of a literary sinner, i. 350.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Agates</span>, presenting representations of natural forms, i. 244.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Agobard</span>, Archbishop of Lyons, i. 21, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Agreda</span>, Maria, wrote the Life of the Virgin Mary, i. 367.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Alberico</span>, vision of, ii. 422.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Albertus Magnus</span>, his opinion concerning books of magic, iii. <a href="#page281">281</a>; + his brazen man, <a href="#page282">282</a>; + his entertainment of the Earl of Holland, 290.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Alchymists</span>, results of their operations, iii. <a href="#page284">284</a>; + their cautious secresy, <a href="#page285">285</a>; + discoveries by, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Alchymy</span>, anecdotes of professors of, i. 283-284; + Henry VI. endeavoured to recruit his coffers by, 284; + professors of, called multipliers, 285; + books of, pious frauds, ib.; + Elias Ashmole rather the historian of, than an adept in, 286; + opinions of modern chemists on, 287.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Alexandria</span>, library of, i. 1; + Demetrius Phalereus, its industrious and skilful librarian, ib.; + original manuscripts of Æschylus, Sophocles, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page514" id="page514"></a>514</span> + and Euripides procured for, ib.: + destruction of, 47-57.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Ambassadors</span>, anecdotes of frivolous points of etiquette insisted on by, ii. 195-206.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Amicable</span> ceremonies in various nations, ii. 12.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Amilcar</span>, the author of the Second Punic War, iii. <a href="#page143">143</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Amphigouries</span>, i. 298.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Amusement</span>, periodical, during study, a standing rule among the Jesuits, i. 31; + various, practised by different celebrated men, 38-41.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Anagrams</span>, i. 298, ii. 229; + are classed among the Hebrews with the cabalistic sciences, 230; + Platonic notions of, ib.; + specimens of Greek, ib.; + several examples of curious, 231-233; + amusing anecdotes concerning, 234.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Ancillon</span> and his library, i. 10, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Andreini</span>, an actor and author of irregular Italian comedies, ii. 141; + a drama of his gave the first idea to Milton of his “Paradise Lost,” ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Anecdotes</span> of European Manners, ii. 30-39; + of Abstraction of Mind, 59-62; + literary, their importance, 300; + Dr. Johnson’s defence of, 301; + the absurdity of many transmitted by biographers, ib.; + general remarks on, 303.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Anglesea</span>, Earl of, his MSS. suppressed, ii. 447.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Animals</span>, influence of music on, i. 272-4.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Annius</span> of Viterbo published seventeen books of pretended antiquities, iii. <a href="#page305">305</a>; + and afterwards a commentary, ib.; + caused a literary war, <a href="#page306">306</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Antediluvian</span> researches, i. 301-303.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Anti</span>, a favourite prefix to books of controversy, i. 318.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Antiquaries</span>, Society of, inquiry into its origin and progress, ii. 413-415.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Antony</span>, Marc, anecdote of, ii. 10.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Apparel</span>, excess in, proclamation against, by Elizabeth, iii. <a href="#page375">375</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Apples</span> grafted on mulberry stocks, ii. 157, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Archestratus</span>, a celebrated culinary philosopher, ii. 246.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Arguments</span>, invented by a machine, ii. 419.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Ariosto</span>, his merits disputed in Italy, i. 386; + public preference given to, by the Accademia della Crusca, 387; + his verses sung by the gondoliers, 388.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Aristocrat</span>, a nick-name, iii. <a href="#page83">83</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Aristotle</span>, account of criticisms on, i. 25; + fate of his library, 53; + Arabic commentaries on, 61; + rage for, ib.; + his opinions on sneezing, 127; + letter of Philip of Macedon to, 142; + description of the person and manners of, ib.; + will of, 143; + studied under Plato, ib.; + parallel between him and Plato, by Rapin, ib.; + anecdote concerning him and Plato, 144; + raises a school, ib.; + attacked by Xenocrates, ib.; + his mode of pointing out a successor, 145; + writers against and for, 314; + bon-mot on his precepts, 407.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Armstrong</span>, Archibald, jester to Charles I., ii. 236, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Arnauld</span>, one of the most illustrious members of the Port Royal Society, i. 94; + anecdotes of, 96; + was still the great Arnauld at the age of eighty-two, 97.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Ashmole</span>, Elias, his Theatrum Chemicum Britannicum, i. 286; + his Diary, ii. 209; + his superstition, ib., note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Astræa</span>, D’Urfé’s romance of the, i. 451; + sketch of, 452-454.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Astrologers</span>, faith in, by celebrated characters, i. 278; + Lilly consulted by Charles I., ib.; + Nostrodamus, by Catherine de Medici, 279; + several have suffered death to verify their skill, ib.; + shifts and impostures of, 279-280.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Astrology</span>, greatly flourished in the time of the Civil Wars, i. 280; + attacks on and defences of, 281-282.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Atellanæ</span> Fabulæ, Atellan farces, ii. 131, and note, 132.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Atticus</span>, employed to collect for Cicero, ii. 397; + traded in books and gladiators, 398.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Aubrey</span>, John, extract from his correspondence, iii. <a href="#page294">294</a>; + his search after gold, ib.; + his idea of universal education, <a href="#page296">296</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Audley</span>, a lawyer and usurer, ii. 158; + his commencement of life, and means of rising in, 159; + anecdote of him and a draper, 161; + his maxims of political economy, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page515" id="page515"></a>515</span> + 162; + his reply to a borrowing lord, ib.; + his manners and opinions, 168-170; + his death and general character, 170.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Autographs</span>, indications of character, iii. <a href="#page163">163</a>; + of English sovereigns, <a href="#page165">165</a>-166.</p> + + +<p><span class="sc">Babington’s</span> conspiracy, some account of its progress, and of the noble youths concerned in it, ii. 171; + trial and defences of the conspirators, 173; + their execution, 175-176.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Bacchus</span>, ancient descriptions of, and modern translations of them, ii. 292.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Bacon</span>, Lord, sketch of his life as a philosopher, iii. <a href="#page320">320</a>-326; + more valued abroad than at home, <a href="#page327">327</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Baker</span>, Sir Richard, author of the “Chronicle,” died in the Fleet, ii. 452; + his papers burnt, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Bales</span>, Peter, a celebrated caligrapher, i. 275; iii. <a href="#page173">173</a>-177.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Ballard</span>, the Jesuit, concerned in Babington’s conspiracy, ii. 172; + expression of his on his trial, 173.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Baptista Porta</span>, founded the Accademie of the Oziosi and Segreti, iii. <a href="#page290">290</a>; + considered himself a prognosticator, ib.; + his magical devices, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Barbier</span>, Louis, anecdote relating to, ii. 11; + his superstitious observances, ib., note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Barnard</span>, Dr., his “Life of Heylin,” iii. <a href="#page217">217</a>-221.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Barthius</span>, Gaspar, a voluminous author, ii. 536; + an infant prodigy, ib.; + published a long list of unprinted works, 537; + its fate, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Basnage</span>, his Dictionary, iii. <a href="#page233">233</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Bayle</span>, publishes his <i>Nouvelles de la République des Lettres</i>, i. 14; + account of his death, 391; + his conduct to his friend, 392; + read much by his fingers, ib.; + amusements of, ib.; + anecdotes relating to, 393; + his “Critical Dictionary,” remarks on its character, ii. 382-388; + Gibbon’s remarks on, 385; + publication of, ib.; + his originality, how obtained, 386; + his errors, 388; + his personal traits, 389; + his characteristics, 388-396; + changes his religion twice, 390; + extract from his diary, ib.; + his methods of study, 391; + appointed to a professorship, ib.; + deprived of it, ib.; + laments his want of books, 392; + anecdotes of + the effects of his works, 394; + a model of a literary character, 395.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Beam</span> in the eye of the Pharisee, literally represented in early art, i. 307, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Beards</span>, various fashions in, i. 220.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Beaussol</span>, M. Peyraud de, his preface to his condemned tragedy, ii. 304-307.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Ben Jonson</span>, masques by, iii. <a href="#page12">12</a>; + assisted Rawleigh in his history of the world, <a href="#page131">131</a>, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Benevolences</span>, iii. <a href="#page218">218</a>, <a href="#page219">219</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Bentley</span>, notice of his criticisms on Milton, i. 370-373.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Bethlehem</span> Hospital, its original foundation, ii. 311, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Betterton</span>, anecdote of, i. 250.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Beza</span>, Theodore, an imitator of Calvin in abuse, i. 310; + effect of his work against toleration, iii. <a href="#page245">245</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Bible</span>, the prohibition of, ii. 19; + various versions of, 20-23; + a <i>family</i> one, 22; + the Olivetan, iii. <a href="#page155">155</a>; + corrupt state of the English, formerly, <a href="#page427">427</a>; + printing of, an article of open trade, <a href="#page428">428</a>; + shameful practices in the printing of, <a href="#page428">428</a>-431, and note; + privilege of printing granted to one Bentley, <a href="#page430">430</a>; + Field’s Pearl Bible contained 6000 faults, <a href="#page431">431</a>; + division of, into chapter and verse, <a href="#page432">432</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Bibliomane</span>, iii. <a href="#page343">343</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Bibliomania</span>, i. 9.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Bibliognoste</span>, iii. <a href="#page343">343</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Bibliographe</span>, iii. <a href="#page343">343</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Bibliography</span>, remarks on its importance, iii. <a href="#page341">341</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Bibliophile</span>, iii. <a href="#page343">343</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Bibliotaphe</span>, iii. <a href="#page343">343</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Biographical</span> parallels, iii. <a href="#page425">425</a>; + a book of, proposed by Hurd, ib.; + between Budæus and Erasmus, <a href="#page426">426</a>; + instances of several, <a href="#page427">427</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Biography</span>, painted, a, iii. <a href="#page137">137</a>-141; + remarks on, <a href="#page414">414</a>; + sentimental, distinguished from chronological, ib.; + of Dante, by Boccacio and Aretino, <a href="#page415">415</a>-419; + domestic, <a href="#page420">420</a>-423; + customary among the Romans, <a href="#page424">424</a>; + comparative, a series of, projected by Elizabeth Hamilton, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Birch</span>, Dr., his great services to history, iii. <a href="#page383">383</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Birkenhead</span>, Sir John, a newspaper writer and pamphleteer during the great rebellion, i. 159.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Black</span> Cloaks, a political nickname for a party in Naples, iii. <a href="#page82">82</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page516" id="page516"></a>516</span></p> + +<p><span class="sc">Blenheim</span>, secret history of the building of, iii. <a href="#page102">102</a>-111; + drawn from MSS., <a href="#page103">103</a>, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Bonaventure de Perriers</span>, specimen of his stories, i. 128.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Book</span> of Sports, effect of, ii. 148.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Books</span>, collections of, see <span class="sc">Libraries</span>; + collectors of, see <span class="sc">Collectors</span>; + reviews of, and criticisms on, see <span class="sc">Literary Journals</span> and <span class="sc">Sketches of Criticism</span>; + destruction of, see <span class="sc">Title</span>; + lost, i. 47-57; + prices of, in early times, 76; + treatise on the art of reading printed, 78; + curious advertisements of, 157; + titles of, 288; + various opinions as to the size of, 347; + difficulties encountered in publishing many books of merit, 375; + works of another description better remunerated, 377; + leaves of, origin of their name, ii. 23, note; + table-books, 26; + derivation of the name “book,” 28; + description of the form and condition of ancient, ib.; + censors and licensers of, 216; + catalogue of, condemned at the Council of Trent, ib.; + inquisitors of, ib.; see <span class="sc">Index</span>; + burning of, anecdote of its good effect in promoting their sale, 219; + mutilations caused by the censors in Camden’s works, Lord Herbert’s History of Henry VIII., and the Poems of Lord Brooke, 220; + anecdotes of purloiners of, iii. <a href="#page316">316</a>-319; + predilection of celebrated men to particular, iii. <a href="#page340">340</a>-343; + calculations as to their present number, <a href="#page342">342</a>; + different terms for amateurs of, <a href="#page343">343</a>; + which have been designed but not completed, <a href="#page493">493</a>, <a href="#page494">494</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Booksellers</span>, two ruined by one author, ii. 533.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Borrowers</span>, destructive to collections of books, i. 12.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Botanic Garden</span>, Darwin’s remarks on, i. 341.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Bourdaloue</span>, i. 257.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Bourgeois</span>, Père, one of the Chinese missionaries, account of his attempt at preaching in Chinese, i. 268.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Bouts Rimes</span>, i. 296.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Brandt</span>, Ship of Fools, i. 7.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Bridgewater</span>, late Duke of, destroyed many family MSS., ii. 451.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Buckingham</span>, Duke of, his familiarity and coarseness with James I., i. 463, note; + his conduct in Spain, ii. 4; + equally a favourite with + James I. and Charles I., 5; + Hume’s character of, ib. and 355; + anecdote of him and the Queen of France, 6; + his audacity and “English familiarity,” ib.; + anecdote of him and Prince Charles, 7; + his rise, 10; + his magnificent entertainment of Charles I. and the French ambassador, 327; + his character, 356-358, and notes; + his fears of being supplanted, 357, note; + contrast between him and Richelieu, 358; + secret history of his expedition to Spain with Prince Charles, 359; + prognostics of his death, 364; + portrait of, 366, note; + determined to succour Rochelle, 367; + his death, 371; + satires on, 369, 370; + possessed the esteem of Charles I., ib.; + his extravagance in dress, iii. <a href="#page407">407</a>; + intrigued with the Puritans, <a href="#page443">443</a>; + his intercourse with Dr. Preston, a Puritan, <a href="#page444">444</a>; + discovers Preston’s insincerity, and abandons the Puritans, <a href="#page445">445</a>; + his impeachment, <a href="#page452">452</a>; + his failure at the Isle of Rhé, <a href="#page458">458</a>; + offers to resign his offices, <a href="#page469">469</a>; + hatred of, by the parliament, <a href="#page470">470</a>-474.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Buffon</span>, Vicq d’Azyr’s description of his study, iii. <a href="#page208">208</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Buildings</span> in the metropolis, opposition to, from the days of Elizabeth to those of Charles II., iii. <a href="#page363">363</a>; + statutes against, <a href="#page364">364</a>; + proclamations against, <a href="#page365">365</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Burnet</span>, his book against Varillas, i. 132, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Burying</span> grounds, iii. <a href="#page231">231</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Butler</span>, the author of “Hudibras,” vindicated, ii. 491-495.</p> + + +<p><span class="sc">Cadiz</span>, expedition to, in the time of Charles I., ii. 366; + satirical lines on, 367.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Calamy</span>, his “History of the Ejected Ministers,” iii. <a href="#page240">240</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Calumny</span>, political advantages of, iii. <a href="#page81">81</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Calvin</span>, less tolerant than Luther in controversy, i. 309.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Camus</span>, his “Médecine de l’Esprit,” ii. 469.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Caracci</span>, family of the, ii. 399; + Lodovico, character of, ib.; + the school of the, 401, note; + Agostino and Annibale, their opposite characters, 402; + the three opened a school in their own house, 403; + Agostino’s eminence there, ib.; + his sonnet, comprising the laws of painting, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page517" id="page517"></a>517</span> + 404; + Domenichino, Albano, Guido, Guercino, their pupils, 405; + disputes between Annibale and Agostino, ib.; + their separation, 406.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Cardinal Richelieu</span>, anecdotes of, and considerations on his character, i. 139-142.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Carleton</span>, Sir Dudley, Vice-Chamberlain of Charles I., his speech to the Commons on the imprisonment of two of their members for their impeachment of Buckingham, iii. <a href="#page455">455</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Cartoons</span> of Raphael, now at Hampton Court, offered for sale, and bought by Cromwell, ii. 333; + nearly sold to France by Charles II., ib., note; + the gallery for their reception built by William III., ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Catherine de’ Medici</span>, her belief in astrology, iii. <a href="#page347">347</a>; + employs Montluc to intrigue to secure the election of the Duke of Anjou to the crown of Poland, <a href="#page349">349</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Catharinot</span>, a voluminous writer, ii. 545; + his singular mode of publishing his unsaleable works, 546.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Cause</span> and Pretext, distinction between, to be observed by historians, iii. <a href="#page141">141</a>; + anecdotal illustrations, <a href="#page142">142</a>-144.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Caxton</span>, the printer, his earliest works, i. 75, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Cayet</span>, Dr., his “Chronologie Novenaire,” ii. 7.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Censers</span> used to sweeten houses in the reign of Elizabeth, ii. 38, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Censors</span> of books, designed to counteract the press, ii. 216; + originated with the Inquisition, ib.; + appointed with the title of Inquisitors of Books, ib.; + disagreement among these Inquisitors, 217; + in Spain, 218; + their treatment of commentators on the “Lusiad,” ib.; + instances of the injury done to English literature by the appointment of, 220; + never recognised by English law, 221; + regularly established under Charles I., 223; + office of, maintained by the Puritans, ib.; + treatment of Milton by, ib.; + the office lay dormant under Cromwell, 224; + revived and continued under Charles II. and James II., ib.; + anecdotes relative to, 226-228.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Centos</span>, i. 299.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Ceremonies</span>, different, among various nations, ii. 12-15.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Cervantes</span>, remark of i. 394; + taken prisoner at the battle of Lepanto, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Chamillart</span>, Minister of France, his rise, ii, 11.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Charades</span>, i. 297.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Charles Martel</span>, his combat with, and defeat of, the Mahometans, ii. 430.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Charles</span> the Bald of France, his remarkable vision, ii. 423.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Charles</span> the First, account of his expedition into Spain, ii. 1-4; + anecdote of him and Buckingham, 6; + history of his diamond seal, 326; + his love of the fine arts, 327; + the magnificence and taste of his court entertainments, 328; + anecdote of, 329; + catalogue of his effects, 331-334; + an artist and a poet, 334, 335, and note; + influence of his wife on, doubted, 336; + his dismissal of his wife’s French establishment, 345; + reply to the French ambassador’s remonstrances, 347; + his conduct on the death of Buckingham, 371; + secret history of him and his first Parliaments, iii. <a href="#page448">448</a>; + the latter a sullen bride, ib.; + his address to his first Parliament, and their ungracious conduct, <a href="#page449">449</a>; + they abandoned the king, <a href="#page450">450</a>; + raises money on Privy Seals, ib.; + on the failure of the expedition to Cadiz he called his second Parliament, <a href="#page451">451</a>; + communications between him and his Parliament, ib.; + his address to them, noticing the impeachment of Buckingham, <a href="#page452">452</a>; + his conduct on that occasion the beginning of his troubles, <a href="#page453">453</a>; + on the Commons’ further remonstrance against Buckingham, he dissolves his second Parliament, <a href="#page457">457</a>; + his distress for money, ib.; + his fresh distresses on the failure of the expedition to the Isle of Rhé, and his expedients to raise money, <a href="#page458">458</a>, <a href="#page459">459</a>; + their ill success, <a href="#page460">460</a>, <a href="#page461">461</a>; + reflections on his situation, <a href="#page463">463</a>; + rejects the proffered advice of the President of the Rosy-Cross, <a href="#page464">464</a>; + anonymous letter sent to the Commons, and by them forwarded to the king without perusing, <a href="#page465">465</a>; + secret measures used by the opposition, <a href="#page466">466</a>; + speech of the king to Parliament, <a href="#page467">467</a>; + his emotion on being informed that the Parliament had granted subsidies +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page518" id="page518"></a>518</span> + <a href="#page468">468</a>; + debates on the king’s message, <a href="#page469">469</a>; + Eliot’s speech thereon, <a href="#page470">470</a>; + Coke’s memorable speech, <a href="#page473">473</a>; + the king grants his assent to the Petition of Right, <a href="#page475">475</a>; + popular rejoicings, <a href="#page476">476</a>; + presentation of the Remonstrance, ib.; + the king’s conduct after the assassination of Buckingham, <a href="#page477">477</a>; + vow of the Parliament to maintain the Articles of Religion of the 13th Eliz., <a href="#page478">478</a>; + tumult in the House, and dissolution of the Parliament, <a href="#page480">480</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Charles</span> the Fifth, his edicts against the Reformed religion, iii. <a href="#page242">242</a>; + his conduct influenced by political, not religious motives, <a href="#page243">243</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Charles</span> the Ninth, account of the death of, ii. 7-9; + his apology for the massacre of St. Bartholomew, iii. <a href="#page255">255</a>-259; + his character, <a href="#page260">260</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Cherries</span>, introduction of, into Great Britain, ii. 156; + loss and reintroduction of, in the reign of Henry VIII., ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Chess</span>, clergymen prohibited from playing, ii. 32; + Kempelen’s Mechanical Chess-player, iii. <a href="#page284">284</a>, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Chinese</span> language, i. 267; + difficulties of, experienced by P. Bourgeois, 268.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Chocolate</span>, brought from Mexico by the Spaniards, ii. 325; + treatise against the use of, ib.; + chocolate-houses in London, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Christmas</span> Prince at the Universities, ii. 268; + account of one at Oxford, 1607, ib., note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Christodins</span>, iii. <a href="#page81">81</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Chronograms</span>, i. 295.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Churchill</span> abhorred the correction of his MSS., ii. 85.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Cicero</span> a punster, i. 69; + a manufacturer of prefaces, 71; + a collector, ii. 396; + his projected library, ib.; + employs Atticus to procure books and statues, 397; + discovered the tomb of Archimedes, iii. <a href="#page409">409</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Cities</span>, Free, shook off the yoke of feudal tyranny, i. 184.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Clairon</span>, Mademoiselle, anecdote of, i. 251.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Clarendon</span> House, history of its erection, iii. <a href="#page189">189</a>-191; + popularly called Dunkirk House, or Tangier Hall, <a href="#page189">189</a>; + satire on the building of, <a href="#page190">190</a>; + existing remains of, <a href="#page191">191</a>, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Classical</span> learning, ii. 332.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Clovis</span>, his reasons for adopting Christianity, ii. 433, 434, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Coaches</span>, introduction of, into England, ii. 36; + use of, in France, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Cockeram, H.</span>, his English Dictionary and its new words, iii. <a href="#page24">24</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Cock-fighting</span> in Ceylon, i. 188.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Coffee</span>, introduction of, into Europe, ii, 320; + made fashionable at Paris by the Turkish ambassador, 321; + invectives and poetical satires against, 322-324; + advantages of its use, 325.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Coffee-houses</span>, the first opened at Paris, ii. 321; + improvements in, ib.; + the first in England, 322; + shut up by proclamation, ib.; and iii. <a href="#page379">379</a>, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Coke</span>, or Cook, Sir Edward, his most pleasing book, his Manual, or <i>Vade Mecum</i>, ii. 519; + his MSS. seized on his death, ib.; + yet to be recovered, ib., note; + his character, 520; + his matrimonial alliances, ib.; + his disgrace, 521; + disputes between him and his wife, Lady Hatton, concerning the marriage of his daughter, 523; + curious letter of advice to Lady Hatton, for her defence before the Council, 524; + his daughter married to Lord Villiers, and Coke reinstated, 529; + his daughter’s bad conduct, ib.; + his death, 530; + his vituperative style, ib.; + his conduct to Rawleigh, 531; + his abjectness in disgrace, 532; + pricked as sheriff, to exclude him from Parliament, iii. <a href="#page446">446</a>; + eludes the appointment by excepting to the oath, <a href="#page448">448</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Coke</span>, Mr. Clement, a violent opposition leader in the second Parliament of Charles I., iii. <a href="#page498">498</a>, <a href="#page499">499</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Coleridge</span>, method pursued by him in his remarkable political predictions, iii. <a href="#page268">268</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Collections</span> of books, see <span class="sc">Libraries</span>; + of engravings, see <span class="sc">Engravings</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Collector</span> of books, i. 1-8; + defence of himself, as one of the body, by Ancillon, 10; + Aristotle first saluted as a, 53.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Collectors</span>, their propensity to plunder, iii. <a href="#page316">316</a>-319.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Collins</span>, Anthony, a great lover of books, iii. <a href="#page16">16</a>; + a free-thinker, ib.; + the friend of Locke, <a href="#page18">18</a>; + fate of his MSS., <a href="#page19">19</a>-23.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page519" id="page519"></a>519</span></p> + +<p><span class="sc">Comedies</span>, extemporal, ii. 130; + opinion of northern critics on, 131; + the amusement of Italy, ib.; + practised by the Romans, ib.; + Salvator Rosa’s prologue to one, 133; + opinions and descriptions of, by Riccoboni and Gherardi, 134, 135; + anecdote of the excellence of, 137; + when first introduced in England, 138.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Comfits</span> universally used under Henry III. of France, i. 221.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Comines</span>, notice of, i. 263.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Composition</span>, various modes of literary, ii. 85; + correction in, necessary, ib.; + but by some authors impossible, ib.; + illustrative anecdotes, 86; + use of models in, 88; + various modes of, used by celebrated authors, 90-92; + passion for, exhibited by some authors, 533-546.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Conde</span>, great Prince of, expert in physiognomy, i. 150.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Confreres</span> de la Passion, i. 353.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Confusion</span> of words by writers, iii. <a href="#page65">65</a>; + by the Nominalists and Realists, <a href="#page66">66</a>; + in modern philosophy, ib.; + between the Antinomians and their opposers, and the Jansenists and Jesuits, <a href="#page68">68</a>; + between Abelard and St. Bernard, ib; + other instances, <a href="#page69">69</a>; + in jurisprudence and politics, <a href="#page70">70</a>; + historical instances, <a href="#page71">71</a>-73; + arising from a change of meaning in the course of time, <a href="#page74">74</a>; + serious consequences of, <a href="#page77">77</a>; + among political economists, <a href="#page78">78</a>; + illustrative anecdote of Caramuel, a Spanish bishop, <a href="#page79">79</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Constantine</span>, motives of his acknowledgment of Christianity, ii. 433.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Controversial</span> writings, acrimony infused into by scholars, i. 153, and 317.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Controversy</span>, literary, that of the Nominalists and Realists, i. 312; + between Benedetto Aletino and Constantino Grimaldi, 314; + abuse lavished on each other by learned men in, 308-320; + challenges sent on occasion of, 317.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Cookery</span> and cooks of the ancients, ii. 245; + Epic composed in praise of, 246; + illustrative translations from Athenæus,247-252; + the dexterity of the cooks, 253; + writers on, 254; + anecdotes, 255.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Corneille</span>, Peter, died in poverty, i. 32; + deficient in conversation, 104; + sketch of his life, 428-432.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Corneille</span>, Thomas, impromptu written under his portrait, i. 432.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Cornelius Agrippa</span>, accused of magic, i. 27; + his dog supposed to be a demon, 28; + his belief in demons, iii. <a href="#page282">282</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Cornhert</span>, Theodore, a great advocate for toleration, iii. <a href="#page253">253</a>, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Corpus Christi</span> plays at Chester, i. 353; + at Kendal, iii. <a href="#page442">442</a>, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Cosmetics</span>, use of, by the ladies of the Elizabethan age, i. 227.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Cotton</span>, Sir Robert, his manuscript collections, iii. <a href="#page316">316</a>; + his character of Charles I., <a href="#page456">456</a>, <a href="#page457">457</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Country</span> gentlemen, their former habits commended, ii. 214; + Lord Clarendon’s mention of his grandfather’s conduct as one of the body, ib.; + their conduct created a national character, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Country</span> residence, opinion of Justice Best upon, iii. <a href="#page363">363</a>; + James I. recommendation of, <a href="#page364">364</a>; + proclamations to compel a, ib.; + and proceedings in the Star Chamber against the disobedient, <a href="#page365">365</a>-368; + Ode upon, by Sir Richard Fanshaw, <a href="#page369">369</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Court</span> of Wards and Liveries, ii. 158, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Cranmer</span>, Jansenist character of, i. 373.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Creation</span> of the World, precise date of, i. 303.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Crebillon</span>, his creditors attached the proceeds of his tragedy of Catiline, i. 405; + decree of Louis XV. thereupon, 406.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Critics</span> may possess the art of judging without the power of execution, i. 407; + Abbé d’Aubignac and Chapelaine quoted as instances, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Criticism</span>, Periodical, see <span class="sc">Literary Journals</span>, i. 12-17; + sketches of amongst the ancients, 24-27; + effect of, upon authors, 409.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Cromwell</span>, his great political error, ii. 435; + prediction of his future eminence, iii. <a href="#page269">269</a>; + reasons for his delay in naming a successor, <a href="#page328">328</a>, <a href="#page329">329</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Cruikshank</span>, George, curious error concerning, i. 321, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Cyre</span>, the Abbé, an envoy of the Emperor’s in Poland, iii. <a href="#page350">350</a>; + seized and imprisoned, <a href="#page360">360</a>.</p> + + +<p><span class="sc">D’Aguesseau</span>, the Chancellor, his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page520" id="page520"></a>520</span> + advice to his son on the study of history, iii. <a href="#page179">179</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dance</span> of Death, iii. <a href="#page211">211</a>-215.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dante</span>, origin of his Inferno, disputes on, ii. 421; + the entire work Gothic, ib.; + Vision of Alberico supposed to be borrowed, 422; + and probably read by Dante, ib.; + his originality vindicated, 423; + the true origin of the Inferno, 427, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Day-fatality</span>, i. 279; + lucky and unlucky days, ib., note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Death</span>, anecdotes relating to the death of many distinguished persons, i. 417-421; + book containing the accounts of the deaths of remarkable persons, compiled by Montaigne, iii. <a href="#page200">200</a>; + reflections on death, ib.; + anecdotes of the death of some celebrated persons, <a href="#page201">201</a>, <a href="#page202">202</a>; + effect of the continual consideration of, <a href="#page203">203</a>; + Lady Gethin’s ideas on, <a href="#page204">204</a>; + conversations of Johnson and Boswell on, ib.; + singular preparations for, by Moncriff, <a href="#page205">205</a>; + opinions of the ancients on, <a href="#page207">207</a>; + personifications of, among the ancients, <a href="#page208">208</a>, and note; + Gothic representations of, <a href="#page209">209</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dedications</span>, curious anecdotes concerning, i. 337-341; + price for the dedication of a play, 338; + one to himself, composed by a patron, ib.; + practice of Elkanah Settle with regard to, 339; + of the Polyglot Bible to Cromwell, ib.; + altered at the Restoration, ib.; + to Cardinal Richelieu, 340; + Dryden’s, ib.; + ingenious one by Sir Simon Degge, 341.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">De Foe</span>, his honour questioned as to the publication of Robinson Crusoe, ii. 274; + probably struck by Steele’s observations on Selkirk’s narration, 276; + wrote Robinson Crusoe in comparative solitude, ib.; + vindication of his character, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">De la Chambre</span>, secret correspondence of, with Louis XIV. on physiognomy, i. 148.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Deliquents</span>, a convenient revolutionary phrase, iii. <a href="#page86">86</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Descares</span>, persecuted for his opinions, i. 29; + silent in mixed company, 104; + his description of his life in Amsterdam, 113.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Descriptions</span>, local, when prolonged tedious, iii. <a href="#page1">1</a>; + Boileau’s criticisms + on, <a href="#page1">1</a>, <a href="#page2">2</a>; + inefficiency of, instanced by a passage from Pliny, <a href="#page2">2</a>; + example of elegant, in a sonnet by Francesca de Castello, <a href="#page3">3</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Descriptive</span> Poems, general remarks on, i. 341; + race of, confined to one object, ib.; + titles of, and notices on several of these, 342, 343.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Des Maizeaux</span>, a French refugee, iii. <a href="#page13">13</a>; + his Life of Bayle, <a href="#page14">14</a>; + notices of his literary life, <a href="#page15">15</a>-18; + Anthony Collins bequeaths his MSS. to, <a href="#page19">19</a>; + relinquishes them to Collins’s widow, <a href="#page20">20</a>; + correspondence concerning, <a href="#page19">19</a>-22.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Desmarets</span>, his comedy of the “Visionnaires,” ii. 48.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">De Serres</span>, introduced the cultivation of the mulberry tree and silk-worm into France, ii. 152; + opposition to his schemes, ib.; + supported by Henry IV., ib.; + medal struck in honour of his memory, 153.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Destruction</span> of books and MSS. by the monks, i. 18, 50; + account of, at Constantinople, by the Christians, suppressed, 47; + burning of Talmuds, 48; + of Irish and Mexican, ib.; + anecdotes regarding, 49; + of Korans, ib.; + of the classics, 50; + of Bohemian, ib.; + in England under Henry VIII., 51; + at Stationers’ Hall in 1599, 53; + of many of Lady Mary Wortley Montague’s letters, 54; + of Anglo-Saxon MSS., 55; + anecdotes concerning the, ib., note; + by fire and shipwreck, 56, 57.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">D’Ewes</span>, Sir Symonds, a sober antiquary, but a visionary, iii. <a href="#page433">433</a>; + extracts from his Diary, <a href="#page434">434</a>, <a href="#page435">435</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Diary</span>, of a Master of the Ceremonies, ii. 194-206; + Shaftesbury’s definition of a, ib.; + Colonel Harwood’s, 206; + kept by Titus, ib.; + Alfred’s, 207; + Prince Henry’s, ib.; + Edward VI.’s, ib.; + kept by James II., 208; + usually kept by heads of families, 209; + kept by Swift and Horace Walpole, ib.; + recommended by Sir Thomas Bodley to Sir Francis Bacon, ib.; + Coke’s, ib.; + Camden’s, 210; + of Sir Symonds D’Ewes, ib.; + Baxter’s, 211; + the thoughtful disposition giving rise to the keeping of a diary, partaken even by women, ib.; + Whitelocke’s, 212; + Laud’s, 213; + Lord Clarendon’s, 214; + practice of keeping one recommended, 215.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page521" id="page521"></a>521</span></p> + +<p><span class="sc">Diaries</span>, Religious, iii. <a href="#page435">435</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dictionary</span> of Trevoux, account of its origin and progress, iii. <a href="#page229">229</a>; + of Basnage, <a href="#page230">230</a>; + of Dr. Johnson, <a href="#page233">233</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Digges</span>, Sir Dudley, a violent opposition leader in Charles I.’s second parliament, iii. <a href="#page451">451</a>; + opened the impeachment of Buckingham, <a href="#page452">452</a>; + committed to the tower, <a href="#page454">454</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dilapidations</span> of MSS.—See <span class="sc">Manuscripts</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dinner</span> hour, variations of, in different times, ii. 34, 35.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dinner</span> parties, Roman limitation of the number of guests at, ii. 246.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Discoveries</span> in literature and science, aptitude in, obtained <span class="correction" title="corrected from hy">by</span> studious men, iii. <a href="#page408">408</a>; + illustrative anecdotes, <a href="#page409">409</a>-413.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Divinity</span>, scholastic, i. 60, 61; + curious accounts and specimens of, 63-65.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dodd’s</span> Church History of England, iii. <a href="#page239">239</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dragons</span>, origin of the old stories of, ii. 311.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Drama</span>, anecdotes of the early, ii. 40-43; + Mexican, ib.; + account of a curious drama, entitled Technotamia, or the Marriage of the Arts, 43-46; + account of one written by a madman, 48.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dramatic</span> works made the vehicle of political feeling, ii. 277; + by the Catholics at the Reformation, ib.; + such conduct caused a proclamation by Edward VI. against English interludes, &c., ib.; + those on the side of the Reformation allowed, and specimens of one, 279-281; + proceedings against in the Star Chamber, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dramatic</span> Annals.—See <span class="sc">Dramatic Works</span>. + Suppression of the drama during the civil wars of Charles I., ii. 281; + opposite conduct of actors at that time, and at the period of the French revolution, 282; + writers against the stage, 283; + custom of boys personating females, 284; + introduction of actresses, 285; + Histriomastix, ib.; + all theatres suppressed in 1642, ib.; + ordinance against theatres, 286; + plays enacted secretly during their suppression, ib.; + Cox’s “drolleries,” 287; + petitions against the drama, 289; + the player’s petition in favour of, ib.; + secretly acted at Holland House, + 291; + the suppression of the drama caused the publication of many MS. plays, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dress</span>, costliness of, in the reigns of Elizabeth, James I., and Charles I., iii. <a href="#page405">405</a>-408.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Drinking</span>, hard, a borrowed custom among the English, ii. 293; + learnt by them in the Netherlands, ib.; + statutes against, ib., note; + terms of, 294, note, 295-298; + anecdotes of, 300.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Drunkards</span>, their different characteristics, ii. 299; + “A Delicate Diet for,” ib., note; + toasts of, 300, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Du Clos</span>, origin of his fairy tale of Acajou and Zirphile, and account of his satirical preface to it, ii. 308-310.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dutch</span> literature, remarks and strictures on, i. 403-405; + satirical medals, iii. <a href="#page156">156</a>-160.</p> + + +<p><span class="sc">Echo</span> verses, specimen of, ii. 236.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Eclectic</span> School of Art founded by the Caracci, ii. 401, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Edward</span> the Fourth, to what he owed his crown, i. 261.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Eglishaw</span>, Dr., his political libels, ii. 357, note; + is murdered in Holland, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Elizabeth</span>, queen, i. 264; + her amours, 265; + wished to be thought beautiful by all the world, ib.; + her habits studious, but not of the gentlest kind, 266; + her writing, 267; + her education severely classical, ib.; + various anecdotes concerning, 264-267; + her able management of her parliaments, ii. 179-186; + her conduct regarding the succession, iii. <a href="#page328">328</a>; + her treatment of James I., <a href="#page332">332</a>; + her proclamation against excess in apparel, <a href="#page375">375</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Eliot</span>, Sir John, a violent opposition leader in Charles I.’s second Parliament, iii. <a href="#page452">452</a>; + his speech on the impeachment of Buckingham, <a href="#page453">453</a>; + committed to the Tower, <a href="#page454">454</a>; + violent against Buckingham in Parliament, <a href="#page469">469</a>-471; + his collection of satires against him, ib.; + a leader in the last Parliament of Charles I., <a href="#page474">474</a>-479.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Eloisa</span>, solicited and obtained Abelard’s absolution, i. 146; + buried with Abelard, ib.; + a fine lady, 147; + Pope’s reprehensible lines found in original letters of, 148.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page522" id="page522"></a>522</span></p> + +<p><span class="sc">Enchanters</span>, origin of the old stories of, ii. 31.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">English</span> Poetry, scarcely known in France in 1610, iii. <a href="#page233">233</a>; + ignorance of, displayed by Quadrio in his History of Poetry published in 1750, <a href="#page236">236</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Engraving</span>, early origin among the Egyptians, i. 43, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Engravings</span>, first collection of, under Louis XIV., by Colbert, i. 7; + collecting of engraved portraits originated the work of Granger, 45.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Epitaph</span> on Cardinal Richelieu, by his protégé, Benserade, i. 84; + by celebrated persons on themselves, 417; + on Philip I., 471; + on Butler, the author of Hudibras, ii. 548.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Errata</span>, remarkable anecdotes concerning, i, 78-82.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Erroneous</span> proper names, given in foreign authors, i. 327, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Etiquette</span>, Court, reflections on its rise and progress, ii. 194; + forms of, observed between the English ambassadors and Cardinal Richelieu, 195; + creation of a master of the ceremonies, 196; + absurd punctilios of, illustrated from the Diary of Sir John Finett, 196-204.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Evelyn</span>, his mode of composition, ii. 88; + praise due to him for his Sylva, 152; + his design for arms of Royal Society, 411, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Events</span> which have not happened, ii. 428-438.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Excommunication</span>, by the Popes, dreadful consequences of, ii. 84.</p> + + +<p><span class="sc">Fairfax</span> Papers, curious discovery of, i. 24, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Fairfax</span>, Sir Thomas, anecdotes of him and his family, ii. 461-474.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Fame</span>, contemned, 66.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Familiar</span> spirits, intercourse with, believed, i. 27, 28, 280.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Fanshaw</span>, Sir Richard, his Ode on the king’s commanding the gentry to reside on their estates, iii. <a href="#page369">369</a>-371.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Farces</span>, ancient, reprehensible, but their pleasantry and humour not contemptible, i. 358; + customary among the Romans after a serious piece, ii. 131.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Fashions.</span>—See <span class="sc">Literary Fashions</span>. + Anecdotes of their origin, changes and extravagances, i. 216-230; + introduction of French, 227, 228; + chronicled by Stowe, 225; + French, + prevailed in the reign of Charles II., 228; + notice of modern, 229; + lines condemning the acts of, 230; + expensive in the reigns of Henry VII. and VIII., ii. 36.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Feast</span> of Fools, ii. 31.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Feast</span> of Asses, ii. 31.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Felton</span>, John, the assassin of the Duke of Buckingham, his motives for the act, ii. 371; + his passage to London in triumph, 372; + anagram on his name, 373; + his remorse, ib.; + his character, 374; + his family, ib., and note; + propositions found in his trunk, 375; + history of the remarkable written paper found in his hat, ib., note; + answer to a threat of torture, 376; + poem addressed to, 378.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Female</span> beauty and ornaments, opinions and practices of various nations concerning, i. 211.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Fenelon</span>, Jansenist character of, i. 373; + his admiration of Homer, iii. <a href="#page339">339</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Feudal</span> customs and rights, the barbarous, the first attempts at organizing society, i. 183; + servitude of the land, 184; + maiden rights, ib.; + wardship, 185; + German lords privileged to rob on the highway, ib.; + anecdote of Geoffrey, Lord of Coventry, ib.; + anecdotes of the abuse of feudal rights and power, 186, 187.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Filbert</span>, origin of the name, ii. 157, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Filchers</span>, literary, iii. <a href="#page316">316</a>-319.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Filicaja</span>, a sonnet of, iii. <a href="#page197">197</a>, + translated, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Finett</span>, Sir John, master of the ceremonies to Charles I.—See <span class="sc">Etiquette</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Fire</span>, in primæval ages, a signal of respect, ii. 16; + worshipped as a divinity, ib.; + a symbol of majesty, ib.; + ancient observances regarding, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Fire-works</span>, not known to antiquity, ii. 15; + their epoch, 17; + originated with the Florentines and Siennese, ib.; + their use passes to Rome, ib.; + exhibition of at Paris, 18.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Flap-dragons</span>, ii. 298.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Flea</span>, collection of poems on, i. 304.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Floral</span> gifts, withheld by the Capitouls of Toulouse from Maynard, a French poet, i. 437.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Flogging</span>, a discussion on, occasioned +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page523" id="page523"></a>523</span> + Roger Ascham to write his Schoolmaster, i. 87.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Flowers</span> and Fruits, praise of the introducers of exotic, ii. 151; + Peirese and Evelyn, ib.; + Hartlib, 153; + enthusiasm evinced by the transplanters of, ib.; + notice of many introduced by particular persons, 154; + origin of, distinguished by their names, 155; + worthy pride of introducers of, 156, 157.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Forgeries</span> and fictions, political and religious, iii. <a href="#page144">144</a>; + historical instances, <a href="#page145">145</a>-150; + literary, iii. <a href="#page304">304</a>-319.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Formosa</span>, Psalmanazar’s pretended history of, i. 136, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Foscolo</span>, Ugo, his opinion on the titles of Italian Academies, ii. 490.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Fourmont</span>, the Oriental scholar, anecdote of, iii. <a href="#page396">396</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Fox’s</span> Acts and Monuments, iii. <a href="#page239">239</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Friendships</span> of literary men, interesting anecdotes of, ii. 55-59.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Franklin</span>, Dr., experiments with lightning, ii. 413.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">French Revolution</span> a commentary on the English, iii. <a href="#page489">489</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Frondeurs</span>, organized by Cardinal de Retz, iii. <a href="#page83">83</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Fuggers</span>, a wealthy family of merchants, i. 6, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Funeral</span> honours paid to their kings by the Goths and Huns, i. 196.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Galileo</span>, condemned to disavow his own opinions, i. 28; + his annotations on Tasso, ii. 444.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Gamesters</span>, memoirs of celebrated, i. 190.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Gaming</span>, a universal passion, i. 187; + treatises on, ib.; + among the nations of the East, 188, 189; + the ancients, ib.; + picture of a gambling-house in 1731, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Gardens</span>, mediæval, ii. 154, note; + gradual introduction of fruits and flowers, 151-157.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Gas</span>, origin of the word, iii. <a href="#page282">282</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Gayton</span>, Edmund, his pleasant notes upon Don Quixote and other works, i. 139, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Gemara</span>.—See <span class="sc">Talmud</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Genius</span>, inequalities of, i. 88; + men of, deficient in conversation, 103; + modern persecution of, 197.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Gerbier</span>, Sir Balthazar, a confidential agent of the Duke of Buckingham, ii. 358; + notices of his Memoirs, 359-369; + his account of the preparations for the siege of Rochelle, 368.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Gestures</span> significant, used by the ancients and by modern Neapolitans, ii. 119, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Gethin</span>, Lady Grace, her statue in Westminster Abbey, ii. 270; + her papers collected and published, under the title of Reliquiæ Gethinianæ, 271; + character of the book, ib.; + Congreve’s laudatory lines on, ib.; + its authenticity doubted, 272; + her considerations on the choice of a husband, 273.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Ghosts</span>, theory of, iii. <a href="#page287">287</a>, <a href="#page288">288</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Giannone</span>, his History of Naples, iii. <a href="#page184">184</a>; + threatened by the Inquisition, <a href="#page185">185</a>; + died in the citadel of Turin, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Gibbon</span>, his mode of study useful to students, ii. 89.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Gill</span>, Alexander, committed by the Star Chamber, ii. 373.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Gloves</span>, supposed to be mentioned in the 108th Psalm, i. 235; + account of, by Xenophon, ib.; + mentioned by several ancient writers, ib.; + use of, universal in the 9th century, 236; + regulations concerning, ib.; + employed on great and solemn occasions, such as investitures, ib.; + Abbots forbidden to use, ib.; + blessing of, 237; + deprivation of, a mark of degradation, ib.; + challenging by, ib.; + used for secret correspondence, ib., note; + use of, in carrying the hawk, 238; + formerly forbidden to judges, ib.; + singular anecdote concerning, ib.; + ancient, in the Denny family, 239.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Glove-money</span>, i. 238.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Goff</span>, Thomas, a tragic poet, specimens of his works, ii. 42.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Gondoliers</span> of Venice, description of their chanting the verses of Tasso and Ariosto, i. 388.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Gough</span>, the antiquary, anecdote of, iii. <a href="#page319">319</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Gray</span>, loss of his MSS., ii. 451.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Grotius</span>, account of his life and studies, i. 129, 130.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Grub-street</span> Journal, extract from, ii. 492; + its authors, ib., note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Guelphs</span> and Ghibellines, iii. <a href="#page89">89</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Gueux</span>, iii. <a href="#page81">81</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Guibert</span>, foretold the French Revolution, iii. <a href="#page300">300</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Guicciardini</span>, his history posthumous, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page524" id="page524"></a>524</span> + iii. <a href="#page180">180</a>; + first editions of his works castrated, ib.; + continuation of his history by Adriani, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Guilt</span>, trials and modes of proof of, in superstitious ages, i. 161-166.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Gulliver’s</span> Travels, account of the first edition, i. 320, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Hair</span>, early taste in the colour of, ii. 33, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Halifax</span>, Marquis of, his MS. memoirs suppressed, ii. 447.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Hall</span>, Bishop, his belief in witches, iii. <a href="#page293">293</a>, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Halley</span>, anecdote of his perseverance and sagacity, iii. <a href="#page411">411</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Hamilton</span>, Elizabeth, her projected series of comparative biography, iii. <a href="#page424">424</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Hans Carvel</span>, origin of Prior’s story of, i. 111.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Hardi</span>, a French tragic author, ii. 41.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Harlequin</span>, his Italian origin, ii. 117; + turned into a magician by the English, ib.; + the character essentially Italian, 118; + treatises written on it, 121; + a Roman mime, ib. and note; + his classical origin, 123, note; + his degeneration, 125; + his renovation under the hand of Goldoni, ib.; + improved into a wit in France, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Hartlibb</span>, Samuel, a collector and publisher of manuscripts on horticulture and agriculture, ii. 153.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Harvey</span>, his discovery of the circulation of the blood, iii. <a href="#page412">412</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Hazlerigg</span>, Sir Arthur, “an absurd bold man,” a violent leader of the Rump Parliament, iii. <a href="#page487">487</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Heart</span> of a lover, story of, i. 233, 234.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Heavy</span> hours of literary men, i. 392.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Hell</span>, Purgatory, and Heaven, topographical descriptions of, i. 202; + treatises on, 204, 205.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Hemon de la Fosse</span>, a modern Polytheist, executed in 1503, i. 216.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Henrietta</span>, queen of Charles I., her character, ii. 337; + anecdote illustrative of, ib.; + after the Restoration, 338; + various descriptions of her person, ib.; + her contract with the Pope, 339; + account of her journey to England on her marriage, 340; + her French establishment, 341; + anecdote of her confessor’s conduct, 342; + the dismissal of her French attendants, 345; + the amount of her supposed influence over her husband, 348.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Henry</span> the Seventh, anecdote of, ii. 10.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Henry</span> the Eighth, anecdote of, ii. 10; + his proclamation against reading the Bible in English, iii. <a href="#page373">373</a>, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Henry</span>, prince, son of James I., anecdote of, iii. <a href="#page186">186</a>-194.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Henry</span>, the English historian, loose and general in his references, ii. 418.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Heretics</span>, a classification of, i. 350.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Hermippus Redivivus</span>, a curious jeu-d’-esprit, i. 320.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Heylin</span>, a popular writer, died in 1662, iii. <a href="#page215">215</a>; + his rival biographers, <a href="#page216">216</a>-221; + his History of the Puritans and Presbyterians, <a href="#page239">239</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">High Sheriff’s</span> Oath, exceptions taken to, by Sir Edward Coke, iii. <a href="#page446">446</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">History</span>, of events which have not happened, a good title for a curious book, ii. 428; + speculative history of the battle of Worcester, had it terminated differently, 429; + a history of this kind in Livy, ib.; + subjects for, 430-438.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">History</span> of New Words.—See <span class="sc">Neology</span>. + Of suppressed opinion, iii. <a href="#page150">150</a>-163; + of writing masters, <a href="#page167">167</a>-177.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Historians</span>, remarks on the infidelities of, i. 191; + Italian, commended, iii. <a href="#page177">177</a>; + notices of the most celebrated, <a href="#page180">180</a>-186; + wrote for posterity, <a href="#page182">182</a>, <a href="#page183">183</a>; + fate of Giannone, who published in his life-time, <a href="#page185">185</a>; + observations on, <a href="#page186">186</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Holyday</span>, Barton, author of the comedy “The Marriage of the Arts,” ii. 43.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Home</span>, the author of the tragedy of “Douglas,” persecuted for composing it, i. 197.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Homer</span>, notice of his detractors, i. 24; + profound knowledge of history, geography, arts, sciences, and surgery ascribed to, 303.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Hudibras</span>, attacks upon Butler, the author of, ii. 491; + various accounts of the original of the character, 492; + indecency avoided in, 493; + epitaph on the author of, ib.; + attacks on Butler’s character, 494; + and vindication of, 495.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Hugh</span> of Lincoln, legend of, iii. <a href="#page145">145</a>, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Huguenot</span>, origin of the term, iii. <a href="#page82">82</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Hume</span>, his carelessness in research, iii. <a href="#page368">368</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page525" id="page525"></a>525</span></p> + +<p><span class="sc">Humphrey</span>, Duke, origin of the phrase “dining with,” ii. 169, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Hurd</span>, Bishop, his proposed book of parallels, iii. <a href="#page425">425</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Hymns</span> set to popular tunes, ii. 149, note.</p> + + +<p><span class="sc">Idleness</span> punished among the ancients, i. 199, 200.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Ikon Basilike</span>; its probable effects had it appeared a week sooner, ii. 435.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Iliad</span>, in a nut-shell, i. 275.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Image-breakers</span>, proclamation by Elizabeth against, iii. <a href="#page375">375</a>, 376.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Imitators</span>, masterly, i. 258, 261.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Imitations</span>, of Cicero, i. 67; + Le Brun’s religious Virgil and Ovid, ib.; + Sannazarius’s poem <i>de Partu Virginis</i>, 68; + Arruntius an ancient imitator of Sallust, ib.; + modern, ib.; + Arabian anecdote, 69.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Imitations</span> and Similarities, Poetical, various and curious instances of, ii. 92-110.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Independents</span>, their intolerance, iii. <a href="#page85">85</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Index</span>, of prohibited books, ii. 216; + Expurgatory, ib.; + Congregation of the, ib.; + reprinted by the heretics with annotations, 217; + effect of, in raising the sale of books, 219.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Indexes</span>, Fuller’s observations on, i. 72.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Influence</span> of a name, ii. 65-75.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Inghirami</span>, and forged Etruscan antiques, iii. <a href="#page307">307</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Inigo Jones</span>, his excellent machinery for exhibiting masques, iii. <a href="#page12">12</a>, <a href="#page13">13</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Ink</span>, inferiority of modern, ii. 29; + various kinds anciently used, 30.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Inquisition</span>, establishment of, at Toulouse, i. 166; + in Spain, 167; + first proceeding of, ib.; + taciturnity of the Spaniards attributed to, ib.; + anecdotes concerning, 168-170; + history of, by Orobio, 167.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Intemperance</span> in study, i. 8.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Introducers</span> of exotic flowers, fruits, &c., ii. 151, 157.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Ireland</span>, W. H., his Shakesperian forgeries, i. 137, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Isabella-colour</span>, origin of term, i. 217.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Italians</span>, their national genius dramatic, ii. 118.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Italian Historians</span>, iii. <a href="#page177">177</a>-186.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Italic</span> letter, introduction of, i. 77; + formerly called the Aldine, 78.</p> + + +<p><span class="sc">Jacquerie</span>, iii. <a href="#page82">82</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">James</span> the First gave credit to physiognomy, i. 149; + injustice done to his character for wit, 156; + distinguished as Queen James, 462; + his ambassador’s speech, 463; + <i>cleanliness</i> of his court, ib.; + his effeminacy, ib.; + his general character, ib.; + his imbecility in his amusements, 464; + his pedantry, 465; + account of his death, 466; + results of the author’s further inquiry into the character of, 467; + his conduct regarding his son’s expedition into Spain, ii. 2; + his objections to Laud’s promotion, iii. <a href="#page297">297</a>; + his character vilified, <a href="#page333">333</a>; + his attention to the education of his children, ib.; + his conduct towards his wife, <a href="#page334">334</a>-337.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">James</span> the Second, kept a diary, ii. 214.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Jamet l’Aîné</span>, proposes to edit a new edition of the Dictionary of Trevoux, iii. <a href="#page232">232</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Jansenists</span>, the Methodists of France, i. 373; + cause a Biographical Dictionary to be compiled, devoted to their cause, in opposition to that of L’Avocat, ib.; + specimens of this dictionary, 373, 374; + their curses never “lapsed legacies,” 375.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Jerusalem</span>, Arabic chronicle of, only valuable from the time of Mahomet, i. 191; + several portions translated by Longuerue, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Jesuits</span>, a senate of, sent by Sigismund, King of Sweden, to represent him at Stockholm, destroyed by stratagem, i. 231-233.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Jesuit’s</span> snuff poisoned, ii. 442, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Jews</span> of York, history of their self-destruction, ii. 75-79.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Jocular Preachers</span>, i. 251-258.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Jodelle</span>, Etienne, the first author of French tragedy, ii. 40.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Johnson</span>, Dr., his original Memorandum of Hints for the Life of Pope, ii. 380-382.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Jonson</span>, Ben, Fuller’s character of, i. 380; + his arrogance, 381; + his Ode on the ill reception of his play of “The New Inn” quoted, 382; + Owen Feltham’s Ode in reply, 383; + Randolph’s Consolatory Ode to, 385; + his poem on translation, ii. 501; + employed on court masques, iii. <a href="#page6">6</a>-8, 12.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Joseph Vella</span>, pretended to have recovered seventeen of the lost books of Livy, i. 135; + patronized by the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page526" id="page526"></a>526</span> + king of Naples, ib.; + discovered and imprisoned, 136.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Journals</span>.—See <span class="sc">Literary Journals</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Journalist</span>, Public, indispensable acquirements of a, i. 16.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Judicial</span> Combats, anecdotes of, i. 162, 163.</p> + + +<p><span class="sc">Kings</span>, remark of St. Chrysostom on, i. 173; + willing to be aided, but not surpassed, 174; + anecdotes of, ib.; + observations of the Duke of Alva and of Dr. Johnson on, 176; + divine honours bestowed on, 179; + dethroned, 181; + anecdotes of, and their families, in misfortune, 181, 182; + descendants of, found among the dregs of the populace in conquered countries, 183; + funeral honours paid to, by the Goths and Huns, 196.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Kirk</span>, Colonel, original of the horrid tale of, related by Hume, iii. <a href="#page148">148</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Kissing</span> hands, customary among the ancients as an act of adoration, ii. 81; + used by the primeval bishops, ib.; + declined with Paganism, ib.; + prevailed at Rome, 82; + an essential duty under the emperors, ib.; + practised in every known country, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Knox</span>, John, his Machiavelian politics, iii. <a href="#page242">242</a>; + his opinions on toleration, <a href="#page251">251</a>; + his predictions, <a href="#page277">277</a>, <a href="#page278">278</a>.</p> + + +<p><span class="sc">Lambe</span>, Dr., a magician, murdered in the streets of London, ii. 364; + fine and assessment on City companies in consequence, ib., note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">La Mothe Le Vayer</span>, a great quoter, ii. 417.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Lamps</span>, Perpetual, i. 243; + possibility of, ib.; + Rosicrucians, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">La Rue</span>, i. 257.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Latimer</span>, Bishop, curious sermons by, i. 256, and note; + his youthful history, ii. 39, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Latour du Chatel</span>, a neglected contributor to the Dictionary of Trevoux, procures the mediation of the French government, iii. <a href="#page231">231</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Lauder</span>, William, pretended discovery of plagiarisms of Milton, i. 137, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Laureats</span>, sketch of the history of, i. 454; + ancient, ib.; + Petrarch the first modern, ib.; + degrees granted to, ib.; + formula employed in granting the degree of, 455; + their honours disgraced in Italy, ib.; + Querno crowned in a joke, ib.; + honours lavished on, by Maximilian I., 456; + honours still conferred on, in Germany, ib.; + unknown among the French, ib.; + appointment of, in Spain, ib.; + in England never solemnly crowned, 457; + salary of, in England, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Lazzaroni</span>, iii. <a href="#page82">82</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Lazzi</span>, dramatic side-play, ii. 128.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">League</span>, the, its pretext and its cause, iii. <a href="#page142">142</a>, <a href="#page143">143</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Learned</span> men, persecution of, i. 27; + poverty of, 29; + imprisonment of, 35; + amusements of, 38.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Le Clerc</span>, antagonist of Bayle, and author of three Bibliothèques, the Universelle et Historique, Choisie, and Ancienne et Moderne, i. 15.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Le Fevre</span>, Nicholas, edition of his works by Lenglet du Fresnoy, iii. <a href="#page249">249</a>, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Legends</span>, origin of, i. 89; + Golden, 90; + of the Seven Sleepers, 91; + account of several, 92, 93; + Golden, abounds in religious indecencies, 366; + of St. Mary the Egyptian, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Leibnetz</span>, his admiration of Barclay’s Argenis, iii. <a href="#page339">339</a>; + anecdote of, iii. <a href="#page455">455</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Lenglet du Fresnoy</span>, his “Méthode pour étudier l’Histoire,” iii. <a href="#page221">221</a>; + his peculiar character, ib.; + history of his Méthode, <a href="#page222">222</a>, <a href="#page224">224</a>, and note, ib.; + his literary history, <a href="#page224">224</a>; + a believer in alchymy, <a href="#page225">225</a>; + his political adventures, <a href="#page227">227</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Le Kain</span>, anecdote of, i. 251.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Leo</span> the Tenth, motive of his projected alliance against the Turks, iii. <a href="#page142">142</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">L’Estrange</span>, Sir Roger, a strong party writer for Charles II., i. 159; + his Æsop’s Fables, 160.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Lettres de Cachet</span>, invented by Father Joseph, confessor to Richelieu, iii. <a href="#page196">196</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Libel</span>, singular means used to discover the author of a, ii. 314.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Libels</span> on the Duke of Buckingham, ii. 365-370.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Liberty</span> of the Press, restrictions on, ii. 216-227; + its freedom did not commence till 1694, 227; + reflections on, 228.—See <span class="sc">Censors</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Libraries</span>, i. 1; + celebrated Egyptian and Roman, 1-3; + public, in Italy and England, 3, 4; + in France and Germany, 6, 7; + use of lights in, 7; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page527" id="page527"></a>527</span> + that of the Palatine Apollo destroyed by Pope Gregory VIII., 50; + in Bohemia, destroyed by the Jesuits, ib.; + destruction of, under Henry VIII. ib.; + astronomical, in the ark of Noah, 303; + Irish, before the Flood, ib.; + Adams’s, ib.; + modern opinion on their utility, iii. <a href="#page345">345</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Licensers</span> of the Press.—See <span class="sc">Censors</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Lights</span>, in public libraries, ordered in France by Charles V., i. 6; + objection to, 7.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Lilly</span>, the astrologer, notices of, i. 280-283; + his great work, 282; + an exquisite rogue, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Lipogrammatic</span> works, i. 293.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Lipsius</span>, Justus, his opinions on toleration, iii. <a href="#page253">253</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Literary</span> Blunders, a pair of lexicographical, i. 305; + instances of curious, 320-327.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Literary</span> Composition, ii. 85-92.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Literary</span> Controversy, specimens of Luther’s mode of managing, i. 308; + Calvin’s conduct of, 309; + Beza imitates Calvin’s style in, 310; + opinion of Bishop Bedell on, ib.; + conduct of the fathers in, ib.; + grossness used in, 311; + of the Nominalists and Realists, 312.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Literary</span> Fashions, ii. 113; + applause given to a work supposed to be written by a celebrated man, ib.; + notices of various, ib.; + love all the fashion, 114; + Spenser’s Faerie Queen became one, ib.; + the translation of Greek tragedies, a, ib.; + of the seventeenth century, 115; + of the time of Charles I., ib.; + of Charles II., and of more modern times, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Literary</span> Follies, instances of various in the fantastical composition of verses, i. 293-307; + strange researches made in antediluvian times to be classed with, 301-303; + anecdote of a malicious one, ib.; + various anecdotes concerning, 301-307.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Literary</span> Forgeries, by Dr. Berkenhout, a letter from Peele to Marlow, i. 380; + by George Steevens, iii. <a href="#page297">297</a>; + history of one, <a href="#page299">299</a>, <a href="#page300">300</a>; + by Horace Walpole, <a href="#page302">302</a>; + anecdote of Steevens and Gough, <a href="#page303">303</a>, <a href="#page304">304</a>, and notes; + by De Grassis, ib.; + by Annius of Viterbo, <a href="#page305">305</a>, and mischievous consequences of, ib.; + Sanchoniathon, <a href="#page306">306</a>; + of Etruscan antiquities, ib.; + the false Decretals of Isidore, <a href="#page308">308</a>; + in the prayer-book of Columbus, ib.; + in the Virgil of Petrarch, ib.; + by the Duke de la Vallière, <a href="#page309">309</a>; + by Lauder, <a href="#page310">310</a>; + by Psalmanazar, <a href="#page311">311</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Literary</span> Friendships, ii. 55-58.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Literary</span> Impositions, curious anecdotes of, i. 260, 261.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Literary</span> Impostures, i. 132; + by Varillas, the French historian, ib.; + supposed by Gemelli Carreri, but afterwards discovered to be fact, ib.; + Du Halde’s account of China compiled, 133; + Damberger’s Travels, ib.; + titles of works announced by the historiographer Paschal, his works at his death amounting to six pages, ib.; + by Gregorio Leti, ib.; + forgeries of Testaments Politiques, ib.; + pretended translations, 134; + Travels of Rabbi Benjamin, ib.; + by Annius Viterbo, ib.; + by Joseph Vella, who pretended to have recovered seventeen of the lost books of Livy, 135; + by Medina Condé, 136; + by George Psalmanazar, ib.; + Lauder’s, 137; + Ireland’s, ib.; + by a learned Hindu, ib.; + anecdotes concerning, 138.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Literary</span> Journals, i. 12; + originated with the Journal de Sçavans, by Denis de Sallo, counsellor in the Parliament of Paris, 13; + Nouvelles de la République des Lettres, published by Bayle in 1684—continued by Bernard, and afterwards by Basnage in his Histoire des Ouvrages de Sçavans, 15; + Le Clerc’s Bibliothèques Universelle et Historique, Choisie, and Ancienne et Moderne, ib.; + Apostolo Zeno’s Giornale de Litterati d’Italia, ib.; + Bibliothèque Germanique, 16; + Bibliothèque Britannique, ib.; + Journal Britannique by Dr. Maty, ib.; + Review conducted by Maty, jun., 16; + Mémoire des Trévoux, ib.; + Journal Littéraire, ib.; + Memoirs of Literature and Present State of the Republic of Letters, the best early English, ib.; + monthly, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Lollards</span>, oath against them enforced upon sheriffs until reign of Charles I., iii. <a href="#page447">447</a>; + repealed by the political feeling of Coke, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Longolius</span>, or Longueil, composed a biographical parallel between Budæus and Erasmus, iii. <a href="#page425">425</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page528" id="page528"></a>528</span></p> + +<p><span class="sc">Lorenzo de’ Medici</span>, effect of his death, ii. 436.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Louis</span> the Eighth, singular anecdote of the cause of his death, ii. 32.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Louis</span> the Eleventh, anecdote of, ii. 10, 11.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Louis</span> the Twelfth, cause of his death, ii. 34.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Louis</span> the Fourteenth, chose his courtiers by the rules of physiognomy, i. 148; + some remarks on his real character, ii, 449; + passages suppressed in his instruction to the Dauphin, 450.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Louis L’Abé</span>, the Aspasia of Lyons, i. 362; + wrote the morality of “Love and Folly,” ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Loups-garoux</span>, iii. <a href="#page293">293</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Lucullus</span>, description of the library of, i. 3.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Luke</span>, Sir Samuel, the true prototype of Hudibras, ii. 491, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Lunsford</span>, Colonel, imputed a cannibal, iii. <a href="#page149">149</a>, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Luther</span>, Martin, remarks on, and extracts from, his controversial writings, i. 308, 309; + caricatures on, 309, note; + Jansenist character of, 374; + anecdote of, from Guicciardini, ii. 479, 480; + his political conduct, iii. <a href="#page144">144</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Luynes</span>, Duc de, his origin, ii. 11.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Luxury</span>, in dress, an old dramatist’s opinion on, iii. <a href="#page400">400</a>; + doctrines of political economy concerning, <a href="#page401">401</a>; + excessive amongst our ancestors, ib.; + the Pas de Sandricourt, <a href="#page402">402</a>-405; + ruinous in the reigns of Elizabeth, James I., and Charles I., <a href="#page405">405</a>.</p> + + +<p><span class="sc">Mabbe</span>, James, translator of “Guzman” and “Celestina,” Spanish plays, ii. 501; + Ben Jonson’s verses in praise of, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Machiavel</span> discovered the secret of comparative history, iii. <a href="#page179">179</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mackenzie</span>, Sir George, notice of his Treatise on Solitude, ii. 50.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mad-song</span>, specimen of an ancient, ii. 315.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Magic</span>, instances of many learned men accused of, i. 27-29; + Solomon accounted an adept in, 122.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Magius</span>, Charles, a noble Venetian, iii. <a href="#page136">136</a>; + his travels and adventures contained in a volume of paintings, ib.; + detailed description of, <a href="#page137">137</a>-141.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Magliabechi</span>, Anthony, celebrated + for his great knowledge of books, i. 394; + description of him and his mode of life, 394-397.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Maii</span>, the discoverer of Cicero’s treatise <i>de Republica</i>, i. 18, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Maillard</span>, Oliver, a famous cordelier and preacher, i. 252.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Maine</span>, Duc de, instituted the Journal de Trévoux, iii. <a href="#page230">230</a>; + and the Dictionary of Trévoux, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Maintenon</span>, Madame de, marries Scarron, i. 424; + corrects his style, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Malherbe</span>, his love of Horace, iii. <a href="#page340">340</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Malignants</span>, iii. <a href="#page86">86</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Man</span> of one book, iii. <a href="#page337">337</a>-340.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mandrake</span>, i. 246.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Manners</span>, anecdotes of European, ii. 30-39; + domestic, among the English, 42-44.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Manuscripts</span>, more valued by the Romans than vases of gold, i. 2; + two thousand collected by Trithemius, abbot of Spanheim, who died 1516, 7; + recovery of, 17-24; + of the classics, disregarded and mutilated by the monks, 18; + researches for, at the restoration of letters, 19; + great numbers imported from Asia, 20; + of Quintilian discovered by Poggio under a heap of rubbish, ib.; + of Tacitus found in a Westphalian monastery, ib.; + of Justinian’s code found in a city of Calabria, ib.; + loss of, ib.; + unfair use made of by learned men, 22; + anecdotes concerning, 22-25; + of Galileo, partly destroyed by his wife’s confessor, 28; + ancient, frequently adorned with portraits of the authors, 42; + destruction of, at the Reformation, 51; + of Lord Mansfield destroyed in the riots of 1780, and of Dr. Priestley by the mob at Birmingham, 53; + loss of many of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu’s letters, 54; + loss of letters addressed to Peiresc, ib.; + of Leonardo da Vinci, ib.; + anecdotes of manuscripts of several celebrated works, 375-377; + description of the ancient adornments of, ii. 28; + of Pope’s versions of the Iliad and Odyssey, 110; + of Sir Matthew Hale, bequeathed to Lincoln’s Inn, to avoid their mutilation by the licensers of the press, 220; + slaves employed to copy, 398; + of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page529" id="page529"></a>529</span> + Vision of Alberico, preserved in the king’s library at Paris, 422: + of Galileo’s annotations on Tasso, 444; + destruction of Hugh Broughton’s, by Speed, 445; + destruction of Leland’s, by Polydore Vergil, ib.; + dilapidation of the Harleian, 446; + suppression of one relating to Sixtus IV. by Fabroni, ib.; + of the Marquis of Halifax suppressed, 447; + Earl of Pulteney’s and Earl of Anglesea’s MS. Memoirs suppressed, ib.; + anecdotes of the suppression of various, 448-452; + mutilators of, 448; + of Oldys’s, iii. <a href="#page493">493</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Marana</span>, John Paul, author of the Turkish Spy, i. 377-379.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Marbles</span>, presenting representations of natural forms, i. 244-247.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mare Clausum</span>, written by Selden in answer to the Mare Liberum of Grotius, ii. 80; + copies preserved in the chest of the Exchequer and in the Court of Admiralty, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Marionettes</span>, improved by the English, iii. <a href="#page238">238</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Marlborough</span>, the great Duke of (See <span class="sc">Blenheim</span>), account of his wealth, iii. <a href="#page108">108</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Marolles</span>, Abbé de, a most egregious scribbler, i. 350; + wrote his own memoirs, 351; + good advice in the postscript to the epistle dedicatory of that work, ib.; + his memoirs, ii. 538; + anecdote of him and De L’Etang, a critic, 539; + notices of his voluminous works, ib.; + his magnificent collection of prints, 541.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Marot</span>, Clement, his character, ii. 474; + his translation of the Psalms, ib.; + sung to the airs of popular ballads, 476; + his Psalms the fashion, 477; + edition published by Theodore Beza, set to music, ib.; + his Psalms declared Lutheran, and himself forced to fly to Geneva, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mar-Prelate</span>, the book suppressed, ii. 453.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Masks</span>, worn by Italian actors, ii. 124.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Massinger</span> a student of the Italian drama, ii. 138.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Masques</span>, notices of magnificent, in the time of Charles I., ii. 327; + the farewell masque of the Duke of Buckingham, 369; + mistaken notions of commentators regarding, + iii. <a href="#page5">5</a>; + their real nature, <a href="#page7">7</a>, <a href="#page8">8</a>, <a href="#page9">9</a>; + description of the masque of Night and the Hours, <a href="#page10">10</a>; + their ultimate ruin, by their splendour, at the court of Louis XIV., <a href="#page13">13</a>, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Massillon</span>, i. 250.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Master</span> of the Ceremonies, created by James the First, ii. 196.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Masterly Imitators</span>, i. 258-261.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Matrimony</span>, its suitableness to learned men considered, i. 332-334; + opinions of Sir Thomas Browne upon, 335; + not borne out by his practice, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Maximilian</span> the First, founds a poetical college at Vienna, i. 456.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Meals</span>, hours of, ii. 315.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Medal</span>, struck by the Catholics to commemorate the massacre of the Huguenots, iii. <a href="#page249">249</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Medals</span>, satiric, used as money in the Saturnalia, iii. <a href="#page151">151</a>; + modern applications of, <a href="#page158">158</a>-160.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Medicine</span> and Morals, considerations on their connection, ii. 464-469; + connection of the mind with the body, 470.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Medina Conde</span>, forges deeds and inscriptions to benefit the Church, i. 136; + sold a bracelet to the Morocco ambassador, as part of the treasure of the last Moorish king, yet in fact fabricated by himself, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Memoirs</span>, remarks on their interest as compared with history, i. 462.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mendelssohn</span>, anecdote of, i. 392.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mendicity</span>, punished among the Jews and nations of antiquity, i. 199, 200; + first made a trade of by liberated Christian slaves, 201; + punishment of in China, 202.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Menot</span>, Michael, a celebrated preacher, specimen of his sermons, i. 256.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mental Disorders</span>, singular mode of cure of, ii. 466; + remarkable anecdotes of, 468-470.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Metempsychosis</span>, doctrines of, advocated in the present age, i. 192; + notion long extant in Greece before the time of Pythagoras, ib.; + taught by the Egyptians, ib.; + entertained by many Eastern nations and by the Druids, ib.; + Welsh system of, explained by Sharon Turner, 193; + believed in Mexico, 194; + Plutarch’s description of, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Michael Angelo</span>, anecdote of, i. 258.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page530" id="page530"></a>530</span></p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mignard</span>, a celebrated painter, curious anecdote concerning, i. 258, 259.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Milton</span>, his controversy with Salmasius and Morus conducted with mutual revilings, i. 152, 153; + absurdly criticised by Bentley, 370-373; + indebted to Andreini for the first idea of Paradise Lost, ii. 141; + his works suffered at the hands of both Royalist and Republican licensers, 223; + his Areopagitica, 225; + a passage in his History of England suppressed, but preserved in a pamphlet, 448; + his Comus escaped the destruction of the Bridgewater papers, 451; + the story of him and the Italian lady, probably an invention of George Steevens, iii. <a href="#page299">299</a>; + copied from a French story purporting to be of the 15th century, <a href="#page300">300</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Milliners</span>’bills, ancient and modern, ii. 39.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mimes</span>, Arch-mime followed the body of Vespasian at his funeral, iii. <a href="#page120">120</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mimi</span>, an impudent race of buffoons, ii. 120; + harlequin, a Roman mime, 121, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Ministers</span>, origin of the term as applied to the pastors of Christian churches, i. 128; + palaces built by, notices of several, iii. <a href="#page186">186</a>-192; + Sir Robert Walpole’s remarks on the imprudence of their erecting such, <a href="#page193">193</a>; + yet builds one himself, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Minstrels</span>, ancient and modern, pickpockets, ii. 146, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mishna</span>, see <span class="sc">Talmud</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Missals</span>, gross adornments of, i. 366.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Modern</span> stories and plots, many derived from the East, i. 111, 112.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Modes</span> of salutation in various nations, ii. 12.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Monk</span>, General, anecdote of him and his wife, i. 468; + his conduct towards Charles II. at his landing, iii. <a href="#page389">389</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Montagu</span>, Lady Mary Wortley, suppression of her MSS., ii. 450.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Montfleury</span>, a French actor, death of, i. 248.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Montluc</span>, Bishop of Valence, his negotiations for the election of the Duke of Anjou as King of Poland, iii. <a href="#page349">349</a>-362.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Moraliities</span>, see <span class="sc">Mysteries</span> and <span class="sc">Moralities</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Morality</span> of “Every Man,” referred by Percy to the class of tragedy, ii. 278.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">More</span>, Doctor, his extravagant Platonic opinions, i. 216.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Morus</span>, controversy of Salmasius with Milton, continued by, with mutual abuse, i. 153.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Music</span>, use of, in discovering indispositions by the voice, i. 151; + influence of, in the cure of diseases, 269-271; + effect of, on animals, 272-274.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mutilations</span> commonly practised in the middle ages, ii. 311.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mysteries, Ancient</span>, bibliographical note of such as are printed, i. 352, note; + one still performed in Bavaria, i. 360, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mysteries</span> and Moralities introduced by pilgrims, i. 352; + subsequently distinguished characters actors in, 353; + performed in open plains, ib.; + indulgence granted to frequenters of, ib.; + at Chester, ib.; + singular anecdotes concerning a mystery, 354; + specimens from French mysteries, 355; + observations of Bayle and Warton on, 357; + distinguished from each other, ib.; + specimen of a morality, 358; + moralities allegorical dramas, ib.; + passion of René d’Anjou for, 360; + triple stage used for representation of, 361; + anecdote relating to an English mystery, ib.; + morality of “Love and Folly,” 362; + at Kendal, Yorkshire, iii. <a href="#page442">442</a>; + usually performed in the festival of Corpus Christi, ib., note.</p> + + +<p><span class="sc">Names</span>, anecdotes relating to, and to their effect on mankind, ii. 65-75; + orthography of proper, ii. 237-239; + names of our streets, 239-243.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Names</span>, significance of Roman, ii. 75, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Nardi</span>, his history of Florence, iii. <a href="#page181">181</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Natural Productions</span> resembling artificial compositions, i. 244-246.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Neal</span>, his account of the Nonconformists, iii. <a href="#page240">240</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Needham</span>, Marchmont, the great patriarch of newspaper writers, i. 158; + short account of, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Neology</span>, or the novelty of new words and phrases, remarks on, iii. <a href="#page23">23</a>; + Neological Dictionary proposed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page531" id="page531"></a>531</span> + by Lord Chesterfield, <a href="#page26">26</a>; + not always to be condemned, <a href="#page27">27</a>; + examples of the introduction of various new words in French and English, <a href="#page28">28</a>-32; + the term “fatherland” introduced by the author, <a href="#page31">31</a>; + picturesque words, <a href="#page32">32</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Nerli</span>, Philip, his “<i>Commentarj de Fatti Civili</i>,” iii. <a href="#page182">182</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Newcastle</span>, Margaret, Duchess of, celebrated among literary wives, i. 327-337; + her account of her husband’s mode of life, ii. 38, 39.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Newspapers</span>, forged, and used unsuspectingly by historians, i. 156, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Newspapers</span>, originated in Italy, i. 155; + called Gazettas, ib.; + first a Venetian, published monthly, ib.; + circulated in manuscript, ib.; + prohibited by Gregory XIII., ib.; + first English, 156; + much used by the English during the Civil Wars of Cromwell, and notices of these, 157-159; + origin of, in France, 160; + first daily one after the Restoration, ib.; + only one daily, in the reign of Queen Anne, ib.; + union between them and literary periodicals, opinions expressed on, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Newton</span>, remarks on, iii. <a href="#page413">413</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Niccoli</span>, Nicholas, founded the first public library in Italy, i. 4.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Nicknames</span>, use of, practised by political parties, iii. <a href="#page80">80</a>; + instances of many, <a href="#page81">81</a>-89; + serve to heat the minds of the people, <a href="#page83">83</a>; + of various Parliaments, <a href="#page85">85</a>; + effect of, on ministers, <a href="#page89">89</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Nobility</span>, conduct of kings towards, ii. 11, 12.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Noblemen</span> turned critics, pair of anecdotes concerning, i. 131.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Nominalists</span> and Realists, i. 312.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Nostrodamus</span>, consulted by Catherine de’ Medici, i. 279.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Novels</span>, the successors of romances, i. 450; + Adam Smith’s favourable opinion of, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Numerical</span> Figures, of Indian origin, i. 276; + introduction of Arabic, 277; + Roman, ib.; + origin of Roman, ib.; + falsification of Arabic, 278.</p> + + +<p><span class="sc">Obscurity</span>, in style, taught by a professor, i. 401; + Lycophron possessed this taste, 402; + defence of, by Thomas Anglus, ib.; + Gravina’s observations on, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Old Age</span>, progress of, in new studies, + i. 98; + remark of Adam Smith, on resumption of former studies in, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Oldys</span>, a literary antiquary, iii. <a href="#page493">493</a>; + caricature of, by Grose, <a href="#page495">495</a>; + released from the fleet by the Duke of Norfolk, and made Norroy King at Arms, ib., and note; + author of the anacreontic, “Busy, curious, thirsty fly,” <a href="#page496">496</a>; + placed in the library of the Earl of Oxford, <a href="#page497">497</a>; + his integrity, ib., and note; + his literary labours, <a href="#page497">497</a>-499; + his life of Rawleigh, <a href="#page499">499</a>; + history of his two annotated copies of Langbaine, <a href="#page502">502</a>; + fate of his MSS., <a href="#page503">503</a>; + his diaries, <a href="#page504">504</a>; + his readiness to aid others with his knowledge, <a href="#page506">506</a>; + his Dissertation on English Poetry curtailed by the bookseller, <a href="#page507">507</a>; + extracts from his diaries, <a href="#page508">508</a>-511; + his intended Life of Shakspeare, <a href="#page509">509</a>; + anecdote of him and Pope, <a href="#page511">511</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Olivetan</span> Bible, iii. <a href="#page155">155</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Opinions</span>, suppressed, modes of expressing them in ancient and modern times, iii. <a href="#page150">150</a>; + in the Saturnalia, ib.; + by carvings and illuminations, <a href="#page152">152</a>; + preceding the Reformation, <a href="#page153">153</a>; + instance of the Olivetan Bible, <a href="#page155">155</a>; + by medals and prints, <a href="#page156">156</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Orchis</span>, Bee and Fly, i. 245.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Ordeals</span>, i. 161-166.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Ordinaries</span>, the “Hells” of the 17th century, ii. 165; + description of the arts practised at, 165-167.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Orobio</span>, his description of his imprisonment in the Inquisition, i. 167.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Orthography</span> of proper names, ii. 261; + of the name of Shakespeare, ii. 238, note; + of Sir Walter Raleigh, iii. <a href="#page111">111</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Osman</span>, Sultan, promotes his gardener, ii. 10.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Oxford</span>, Edward Vere, Earl of, his secret history, ii. 243-245.</p> + + +<p><span class="sc">Palaces</span> built by ministers, iii. <a href="#page186">186</a>-192.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Palingenesis</span>.—See <span class="sc">Regeneration</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Palmer</span>, the actor, his death, i. 249.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Pamphlets</span>, sketch of Myles Davis’s history of, i. 343; + origin and rise of, 344; + one pretended to have been composed by Jesus Christ, ib.; + Alexander Pope denounced as a plotter in a, 345; + etymologies of the word, 345-347.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page532" id="page532"></a>532</span></p> + +<p><span class="sc">Pantomime</span>, French verses in praise of, and translation of, ii. 116; + Cervantes and Bayle’s delight in, 116, 117; + harlequin, 119; + of the lower Italians in their gestures, ib.; + treatises on, 121; + transmitted from the Romans, 123; + improvement of, by Ruzzante, 124; + the history of a people traced in, 125; + description of the various characters in Italian, 126.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Pantomimi</span>, tragic actors usually mute, ii. 120; + Seneca’s taste for, ib.; + their influence over the Roman people, 121.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Pantomimical</span> Characters. See <span class="sc">Pantomime</span>; + Massinger and Molière indebted to, ii. 138; + remarks on Shakspeare’s “Pantaloon,” 139.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Paper</span>, among the ancients, ii. 27, 28; + introduction into England, 29; + various sorts of modern, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Paracelsus</span>, his receipt for making a fairy, iii. <a href="#page286">286</a>, <a href="#page287">287</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Paradise Lost</span>, prose and verse versions of, i. 305.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Parisian</span> Massacre, apology for, iii. <a href="#page255">255</a>-260, <a href="#page352">352</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Park</span>, Mungo, his book interpolated and altered by his editor, Bryan Edwards, ii. 453.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Parker</span>, Bishop of Oxford, iii. <a href="#page279">279</a>, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Parodies</span>, anecdote relating to, ii. 453; + resembles mimicry, 454; + not made in derision, ib.; + practised by the ancients, 455; + ancient, of Homer, ib.; + modern, 456; + dramatic, anecdotes of modern, 458-460; + legitimate use of, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Parpaillots</span>, or Parpirolles, iii. <a href="#page82">82</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Particular</span> Providence, various opinions on, ii. 428-431; + the granting a free-conduct to Luther, by Charles V., possibly one, 432.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Pasquin</span> and Marforio, account of, i. 208.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Pasquinades</span>, origin of, and instances of several, i. 208.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Patrons</span>, their treatment of authors, i. 82; + anecdotes regarding, 83, 84; + opinion of Dr. Johnson upon, 83.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Paulus Jovius</span>, description of the country-house and collections of statues, books, and portraits belonging to, i. 45; + description of the villa built by, iii. <a href="#page397">397</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Pazzi</span>, Cavaliero, founder of the Accademia Colombaria, ii. 483.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Peg-tankards</span>, ii. 296, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Peiresc</span>, a man of incessant literary occupations, and an enthusiast in the importation of exotic plants, ii. 151; + anecdotes of, iii. <a href="#page409">409</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Pembroke</span>, Anne, Countess of, designed a history of her family, iii. <a href="#page421">421</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Perfumery</span> and costly washes, introduced into England by the Earl of Oxford, i. 225.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Petitions</span>, to Parliament against the Drama, ii. 289; + mock, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Petitioners</span> and Abhorrers, iii. <a href="#page87">87</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Petrach</span>, formula used at his coronation with the Laurel Crown, i. 455; + his passion for literary composition, ii. 592; + his Laura, iii. <a href="#page309">309</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Pictorial</span> Biography.—See <span class="sc">Magius</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Pisistratus</span>, the first projector amongst the Greeks of a collection of the works of the learned, i. 2.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Philip</span> the First of Spain, i. 469; + his marriage with Mary of England, ib.; + sought Queen Elizabeth in marriage, 470; + offered himself to three different sisters-in-law, ib.; + his advice to his son, ib.; + his death-bed, ib.; + his epitaph, 471.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Philosophy</span>, dreams at the dawn of, iii. <a href="#page280">280</a>-290; + mechanical fancies, <a href="#page291">291</a>, <a href="#page292">292</a>; + inquiries after prodigies, <a href="#page293">293</a>; + further anecdotes of, <a href="#page294">294</a>-296.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Physiognomy</span>, credited by Louis XIV. and James I., i. 148, 149.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Picart</span>, his <i>impostures innocentes</i>, i. 259.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Pictures</span> belonging to Charles I., ii. 332, 333.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Pinamonti</span>, his book on the eternal punishments, i. 204, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Pinelli</span>, his great library, and its partial destruction, i. 57, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Plagiarism</span>, in printed sermons, i. 400; + a professor of, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Plants</span>, presenting representations of natural forms, i. 245.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Plantyn</span> the printer, and his office at Antwerp, i. 77, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Platina</span>, his account of his persecution and tortures, for having been a member of the “Academy” at Rome, ii. 486.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Plato</span>, Aristotle studied under, i. 143; + parallel between him and Aristotle, ib.; + contest between him +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page533" id="page533"></a>533</span> + and Aristotle, 144; + the model of the moderns who profess to be anti-poetical, 433; + a true poet himself, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Platonism</span>, modern, originated among the Italians, i. 213; + system of, by Gemisthus Pletho, ib.; + professed by a Mr. Thomas Taylor, 215; + by a scholar in the reign of Louis XII., 216; + by Dr. More, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Pletho</span>, or Gemisthus, a remarkable modern professor of Platonism, i. 213.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Platts</span> or Plots, theatrical discovery of curious ones at Dulwich College, and remarks upon, ii. 138-140; + see <span class="sc">Scenario</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Plott</span>, Dr., his project of a tour, iii. <a href="#page292">292</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Plunder</span>, etymology of, iii. <a href="#page87">87</a>, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Poets</span>, Plato’s description of the feelings of, in the Phædon, i. 433; + opinions of various learned men on the works of, 433; + remarks on the habits of, 434, 435; + behaviour of Frederic King of Prussia (father of the Great Frederic) to, 436; + different conduct of other kings towards, 437; + honours paid to, in the early stage of poetry, ib.; + anecdote of Margaret of Scotland and Alain the poet, 438; + opinions of the pious on the works of, ib.; + too frequently merely poets, 439; + hints to young, 440; + to veteran, ib.; + mistresses of, 441; + change their opinions of their productions, ib.; + antiquity of the custom of crowning, 454; + abolished in the reign of Theodosius, ib.; + regal, 457; + condemned, ii. 303-308; + laureat, see <span class="sc">Laureats</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Poetical Garland</span>, i. 247.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Poetical</span> imitations and similarities, ii. 92-113.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Point-device</span>, etymology of, iii. <a href="#page188">188</a>, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Poland</span>, history of the election of the Duke of Anjou as King of, iii. <a href="#page346">346</a>-363.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Polichinello</span>.—See <span class="sc">Punch</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Politian</span>, Angelo, a polished Italian writer of the 15th century, i. 457; + his dedicatory epistle, prefixed to his epistles, 458.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Political</span> Nicknames, iii. <a href="#page80">80</a>-90.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Political</span> Reports, false maxim on + the efficacy of, ii. 438; + ancient instances, ib.; + of the battle of Lutzen, 439; + on the battle of the Boyne, ib.; + other anecdotes, modern and ancient, of the effect of, 440-443.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Political</span> Religionism, illustrations of its effects, iii. <a href="#page238">238</a>-244.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Political</span> Prognostics.—See <span class="sc">Predictions</span>. + Dugdale hastened his labours in anticipation of the disorders of the Rebellion, iii. <a href="#page261">261</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Political</span> Parallels, iii. <a href="#page267">267</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Polydore Vergil</span>, a destroyer of MSS., ii. 445.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Pomponius Lætus</span>, in the 15th century raised altars to Romulus, ii. 485; + chief of the “Academy” at Rome, 486.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Pope</span>, his manuscripts, ii. 110; + passage from, with the various alterations, 111, 112; + Dr. Johnson’s memorandum of hints for the life of, 381; + anecdote of, iii. <a href="#page397">397</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Pope</span>, project of the, for placing a cardinal on the throne of England, ii. 505; + favoured by Henry IV., ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Popes</span>, their early humility and subsequent arrogance, ii. 83; + Celestine kicks off the crown of the Emperor Henry the Sixth, ib.; + their infallibility first asserted, ib.; + protest of the University of Vienna against, 84; + their excommunications, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Porta</span>, John Baptiste and John Vincent, found the academy “Degli Oziosi,” ii. 488; + Baptiste’s mechanical genius, iii. <a href="#page290">290</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Portraits</span>, of authors, of celebrated men, i. 42-47; + of the Fugger family, 6; + commonly prefixed to ancient manuscripts, 42; + collections of, amongst the ancients, 43; + query upon the mode of their transmission and their correctness, ib.; + use of, ib.; + anecdotes relative to the effect of, 45; + objections of ingenious men to sit for, reprobated, 46; + Granger’s illustrations of, 45; + Perrault’s “Eloges” confined to French, ib.; + collection by Paulus Jovius, ib.; + doubts as to authenticity of several, ib.; + literary, of himself, by St. Evremond, 102; + in minute writing, 275.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Port Royal Society</span>, the, i. 94; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page534" id="page534"></a>534</span> + their Logic, or The Art of Thinking, an admirable work, ib.; + account of its rise and progress, 95; + many families of rank erected houses there, ib.; + persecuted and destroyed by the Jesuits, 96; + their writings fixed the French language, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Posies</span> on rings, iii. <a href="#page39">39</a>, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Poverty</span>, abridgment of history of, by Morin, i. 198; + regulations regarding, among the Jews, ib.; + among the Greeks, Romans, and Egyptians, 199; + uncommon among the ancients, 201; + introduction of hospitals for the relief of, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Prayer-books</span>, gross illustrations of, i. 366.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Preachers</span>, jocular, i. 251-258.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Prediction</span>, political and moral, determined by certain prognostics, iii. <a href="#page260">260</a>; + of the Reformation by Cardinal Julian, Sir Thomas More, and Erasmus, <a href="#page262">262</a>; + by Sir Walter Rawleigh, <a href="#page263">263</a>; + of Tacitus, ib.; + of Solon, <a href="#page264">264</a>; + of Charlemagne, ib.; + Cicero’s art of, ib.; + faculty of, possessed by Du Vair, <a href="#page265">265</a>; + principles of, revealed by Aristotle, <a href="#page266">266</a>; + by Mr. Coleridge, <a href="#page268">268</a>; + of the French Revolution, <a href="#page269">269</a>, <a href="#page270">270</a>; + frequently false, <a href="#page272">272</a>; + anecdotes, <a href="#page273">273</a>; + of the end of the world, ib., note; + of the destruction of London in 1750, ib., note; + of American independence, <a href="#page274">274</a>; + sometimes condemned as false when really verified, <a href="#page275">275</a>; + caution to be observed in, <a href="#page276">276</a>; + instances of, by Knox, <a href="#page277">277</a>; + of the death of Henry IV., ib.; + reflections on, <a href="#page278">278</a>, <a href="#page279">279</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Prefaces</span>, frequently superior to the work, i. 71; + a volume of, always kept ready by Cicero, ib.; + ought to be dated, 72; + anecdote of Du Clos’ to a fairy tale, ii. 340.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Preferment</span>, anecdotes of, ii. 12.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Presbyterians</span>, their conduct under Charles II., iii. <a href="#page240">240</a>; + their intolerance, <a href="#page254">254</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Press-money</span>, proposition that those who refused it should be tried by martial law, iii. <a href="#page462">462</a>, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Price</span>, Robert, a Welsh lawyer, incidents in his life, iii. <a href="#page422">422</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Primero</span>, a game at cards described, ii. 166, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Prince Henry</span>, son of James I., resembled Henry V. in his features, + ii. 186; + Dr. Birch’s life of, 187; + anecdotes concerning, 187-194; + his diary, 207.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Printing</span>, art of, possessed by the Romans without being aware of it, i. 43, and note; + probably originated in China, ib., and note; + general account of early, 73-78.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Printers</span>, mention of early, i. 75.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Prints</span>, satiric, iii. <a href="#page160">160</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Proclamations</span>, against long swords and deep ruffs, i. 222; + royal, against buildings in London, iii. <a href="#page365">365</a>; + to enforce a country residence, <a href="#page367">367</a>; + never possessed the force of laws, <a href="#page366">366</a>; + of Henry VIII., <a href="#page372">372</a>; + of Mary, <a href="#page373">373</a>; + of Edward VI., <a href="#page374">374</a>; + of Elizabeth, <a href="#page375">375</a>; + of James I., <a href="#page376">376</a>; + of Charles I., <a href="#page377">377</a>; + of Charles II. against vicious, debauched, and profane persons, ib.; + others by Charles II., <a href="#page379">379</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Profession</span>, the choice of one and its influence on the mind, with some illustrative anecdotes, ii. 461-463.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Proper</span> names, orthography of, the uncertainty of, ii. 237; + anecdotes and instances of, 237-243.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Protestantism</span>, once existed in Spain, ii. 434.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Proverbs</span>, use of, derided by Lord Chesterfield, iii. <a href="#page33">33</a>; + records of the populace, <a href="#page34">34</a>; + existed before books, ib.; + abound in the most ancient writers, ib.; + “the dark sayings of the wise,” <a href="#page35">35</a>; + introduced into the Greek drama, <a href="#page36">36</a>; + definition of, <a href="#page38">38</a>; + influence of, over a whole people, ib.; + collection of, by Franklin, ib.; + inscribed on furniture, ib.; + English, collected by Heywood, <a href="#page39">39</a>; + a speech of, <a href="#page40">40</a>; + an era of, amongst the English, <a href="#page41">41</a>; + long favourites in France, ib.; + comedy of, ib.; + family, <a href="#page42">42</a>; + ancient examples of the use of, <a href="#page43">43</a>; + some, connected with the characters of eminent men, <a href="#page44">44</a>; + use of, by poets, ib.; + Eastern origin of many, <a href="#page45">45</a>; + collection of, by Polydore Vergil and Erasmus, of Spanish by Fernandez Nunes, of Italian and French, English and Scotch, <a href="#page46">46</a>, <a href="#page47">47</a>; + study of, <a href="#page48">48</a>; + illustrative of national character, <a href="#page48">48</a>-56; + anecdotes of the origin of certain, <a href="#page56">56</a>-61; + historical, <a href="#page61">61</a>; + remarks on the arrangement of collections of, <a href="#page63">63</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page535" id="page535"></a>535</span></p> + +<p><span class="sc">Prynne</span>, his method of composition, ii. 534; + his extraordinary perseverance, ib.; + title of the catalogue of his writings, 535; + copy of his works bequeathed to Sion College, ib.; + the pretended retractation of his Histriomastix, iii. <a href="#page315">315</a>, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Psalm-singing</span>, remarks on, ii. 472; + first introduction of, ib.; + T. Warton’s criticism of, 473; + history of, 473-478; + practised at lord mayor’s feasts, 479.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Psalmanazar</span>, his extraordinary literary forgery, i. 137, note; iii. <a href="#page311">311</a>; + some account of, <a href="#page312">312</a>-314.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Puck</span>, the Commentator.—See <span class="sc">Steevens</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Pulteney</span>, Earl of Bath, MS. Memoirs of, suppressed, ii. 447.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Punch</span>, his ancient origin, ii. 122, and note; + origin of his name, ib., note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Punchinello</span>.—See <span class="sc">Punch</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Punning</span>, in a dictionary, i. 305.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Puns</span>, Cicero’s, i. 69.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Puppet-shows</span> in England, iii. <a href="#page238">238</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Purgatory</span>, Cardinal Bellarmin’s treatise on, i. 204.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Puritans</span>, turn bacchanalian songs into spiritual ones, ii. 148.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Puritans</span> and Precisians, party nicknames at the Reformation, iii. <a href="#page84">84</a>, <a href="#page85">85</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Pyrotechnics</span>.—See <span class="sc">Fireworks</span>.</p> + + +<p><span class="sc">Quadrio</span>, his Universal History of Poetry, iii. <a href="#page233">233</a>; + his ignorance of English poetry, <a href="#page234">234</a>-236; + his opinion of English comedy, <a href="#page236">236</a>; + praises our puppet-shows, <a href="#page238">238</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Queen Mary</span> the First, her marriage with Philip of Spain, i. 469; + her letter of instructions, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Queen Elizabeth</span>, letter of, to her brother, Edward VI., i. 461; + her exhibition of youthfulness to the ambassador of the Scottish king, 463; + remarkable period in her annals, ii. 179; + her maiden state, ib.; + real cause of her repugnance to change it, ib., and note; + her artifices to conceal her resolution, 180; + debates of the Commons on the succession to, 181; + address to, by the Duke of Norfolk, and her answer, ib.; + despatch of the French ambassador on this occasion, 181-186; + her judicious conduct, ib.; + her conduct towards printers and authors, 221, 222; + her dislike to the appointment of a + successor, iii. <a href="#page331">331</a>; + account of her death-bed, <a href="#page331">331</a>, <a href="#page332">332</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Queen Anne Bullen</span>, anecdote relative to her execution, i. 462.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Querno</span>, made laureat for the joke’s sake, i. 455.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Quevedo</span>, his love for Don Quixote, iii. <a href="#page339">339</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Quince</span>, origin of, ii. 157, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Quodlibets</span>, or Scholastic Disquisitions, i. 60.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Quotation</span>, remarks on the use of, ii. 416; + Selden’s precept for, violated by himself, 417; + Bayle’s remarks on the use of, 418; + when used by an eminent author often appropriated by an inferior, 419; + value of the proper application of, 420.</p> + + +<p><span class="sc">Rabbinical</span> Stories, specimens of, i. 120-126; + scripture quoted to support, 126.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Rantzau</span>, founder of the great library at Copenhagen, stanzas by, i. 5.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Ranz des Vaches</span>, effect of, i. 274.</p> + +<p><span class="sc correction" title="origininally out of alphabetical order">Rawleigh</span>, Sir Walter, composed his History of the World in prison, i. 36; + assisted in that work by several eminent persons, ib.; + variations in orthography of his name, iii. <a href="#page111">111</a>, note; + author’s account of his character, <a href="#page112">112</a>; + Gibbon’s and Hume’s observations on, <a href="#page113">113</a>; + cunning practised by, ib.; + anecdotes of, <a href="#page114">114</a>; + account of his return from Guiana, <a href="#page115">115</a>, <a href="#page116">116</a>; + his attempt to escape, <a href="#page118">118</a>; + betrayed by Sir Lewis Stucley, <a href="#page119">119</a>; + narrative of his last hours, <a href="#page124">124</a>-129; + his History of the World, the labour of several persons, <a href="#page131">131</a>; + note on Mr. Tytler’s remarks on the author’s account of, <a href="#page135">135</a>, note; + his extravagance in dress, <a href="#page407">407</a>; + notice of Oldys’s life of, <a href="#page499">499</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Raynaud</span>, Theophilus, his works fill twenty folios, and ruined his bookseller, <span class="correction" title="missing volume number">542</span>; + notice of, 543; + his curious treatises, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Realists</span>, a sect of Scholars, i. 312.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Reformation</span>, origin of, iii. <a href="#page142">142</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Refutation</span>, a Catholic’s, i. 349.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Regeneration</span> of material bodies, iii. <a href="#page286">286</a>, 287.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Relics</span> of Saints, bought, sold, and stolen, i, 239; + treatise on, by Gilbert de Nogent, ib.; + of St. Lewin, ib.; + of St. Indalece, 240; + of St. Majean, ib.; + of St. Augustin’s arm, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page536" id="page536"></a>536</span> + ib.; + flogging of, ib.; + miracles performed by, ib.; + miraculously multiplied, 241; + anecdote of a box of, presented by the Pope to Prince Radzivil, ib.; + Frederick the Wise, a great collector of, 242; + phial of the blood of Christ sent to Henry III., ib.; + fall in price of, ib.; + deceptive, 243.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Religion</span>, state of, during the Civil Wars, iii. <a href="#page433">433</a>; + illustrative anecdotes of, <a href="#page434">434</a>-436; + contest between Owen and Baxter on, <a href="#page437">437</a>; + confusion of, ib.; + a colt baptised in St. Paul’s Cathedral, <a href="#page439">439</a>, and note; + anecdotes, <a href="#page439">439</a>-441; + noticed by George Wither the Poet, <a href="#page442">442</a>; + ordinance of the Parliament to rectify the disorders in, <a href="#page443">443</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Religionism</span> distinguished from religion, iii. <a href="#page239">239</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Religious</span> Nouvellettes, a class of very singular works, i. 363; + account of one, 364; + notice of one discussing three thousand questions concerning the Virgin Mary, 365; + Life of the Virgin, 367; + Jesuits usual authors of, 368; + one describing what passes in Paradise, ib.; + the Spiritual Kalendar, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Representation</span>, right of, not fixed in the 10th century, i. 162.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Residences</span> of literary men, notices of several, iii. <a href="#page394">394</a>-399.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Reviews</span>.—See <span class="sc">Literary Journals</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Revolutions</span>, maxim on, iii. <a href="#page278">278</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Rhymes</span> inscribed on <i>knives</i>, and alluded to by Shakespeare, iii. <a href="#page38">38</a>, note; + on <i>fruit trenchers</i>, ib.; + on <i>rings</i>, <a href="#page39">39</a>, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Riccoboni</span>, a celebrated actor, his remarks on the Italian extempore comedy, ii. 134; + anecdote of, 137; + his inscription on the curtain of his theatre, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Rich</span>, a celebrated harlequin, ii. 130, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Richardson</span>, the author of <i>Sir Charles Grandison</i>, remarks on him and his works, ii. 62-65.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Richelieu</span>, Cardinal de, his general character, ii. 349; + his death-bed, ib.; + anecdotes of the sinister means practised by, 350; + his confessor, Father Joseph, 351-353; + projects of assassination of, 354, and note; + drives Father Caussin, the king’s confessor, into exile, 355.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Rive</span>, Abbé de, librarian of the Duke + de la Vallière, iii. <a href="#page341">341</a>; + his style of criticism, <a href="#page342">342</a>; + his collections for works never begun, ib.; + his observations on the cause of the errors of literary history, <a href="#page344">344</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Robinson Crusoe</span>, remarks on, ii. 274; + history of, traced, 275; + written by Defoe, after illness, and in comparative solitude, 276; + not published till seven years after Selkirk’s adventures, 277.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Roc</span>, the, of Arabian tales, a creature of Rabbinical fancy, i. 124.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Rochefoucault</span> De la, remarks on him and his maxims, i. 110.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Rochelle</span>, expedition to, ii. 367; + preparations for, ib.; + frustrated by the death of Buckingham, 369.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Romances</span>, the offspring of fiction and love, i. 442; + early, ib.; + that of Heliodorus denounced in the synod, 443; + forbidden in the Koran, ib.; + of the Troubadours, 444; + modern poets indebted to, ib.; + Le Roman de Perceforest, 445; + of chivalry, examples of, 446; + Italian, 448; + use made of by poets, 449; + French, ib.; + went out of fashion with square cocked hats, 450; + modern novels, ib.; + histories of, 451; + D’Urfé’s Astræa, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Romney</span> the painter, his belief in alchymy, i. 282, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Ronsard</span>, the French bard, and his Bacchanalia, ii. 41.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Rosy-Cross</span>, the President of, proffers his advice to Charles I., iii. <a href="#page464">464</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Rousseau</span>, his prediction of the French Revolution, iii. <a href="#page271">271</a>, <a href="#page272">272</a>, and note; + his favourite authors, iii. <a href="#page340">340</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Royal</span> Autographs, iii. <a href="#page165">165</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Royal</span> Promotions, ii. 10.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Royal Society</span>, origin of, ii. 410-413.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Royal</span> Society of Literature, ii. 406, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Rubens</span>, his house at Antwerp, iii. <a href="#page398">398</a>; + his love for collections of art, <a href="#page399">399</a>, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Ruffs</span>, extravagances in, i. 222-227.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Rump</span>, the origin of the term, iii. <a href="#page482">482</a>, <a href="#page483">483</a>; + three stages in its political progress, <a href="#page484">484</a>; + songs upon, <a href="#page485">485</a>; + debate of the, whether to massacre all the king’s party, <a href="#page487">487</a>; + parallel between their course of conduct and that of the leaders in the French Revolution, <a href="#page489">489</a>-493.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page537" id="page537"></a>537</span></p> + +<p><span class="sc">Sainte</span> Ampoule, ii. 434, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Salmasius</span>, his controversy with and abuse of Milton, i. 152-154.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Salvator Rosa</span>, fond of acting in extemporal comedy, ii. 133.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Sandricourt</span>, the Sieur de, ruined himself by one fête, iii. <a href="#page402">402</a>-405.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Sans Culottes</span>, iii. <a href="#page83">83</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">St. Ambrose</span>, writes a treatise on Virgins, i. 412; + and another on the Perpetual Virginity of the Mother of God, ib.; + his chastisement of an erring nun, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">St. Bartholomew</span>, apology for the massacre of, iii. <a href="#page255">255</a>-260.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">St. Evremond</span>, literary portrait of, by himself, i. 102.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">St. Ursula</span> and the Eleven Thousand Virgins all created out of a blunder, i. 324.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">St. Viar</span>, created by an error, i, 323.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Satirical</span> medals, iii. <a href="#page156">156</a>-160.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Satirists</span> may dread the cane of the satirised, i. 442.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Saturnalia</span>, institution of among the Romans, derived by Macrobius from the Grecians, ii. 256; + dedicated to Saturn, ib.; + latterly prolonged for a week, 257; + description of, ib.; + crept into the Christian Church, 258, and note; + practised in the middle ages, 259; + Feast of Asses, ib.; + “December liberties,” 260; + the boy-bishop, 261; + Lord of Misrule, ib.; + Abbot of Unreason, 262; + description of a grand Christmas held at the Inns of Courts, 263-265, and note; + the last memorable, of the Lords of Misrule of the Inns of Court, 266; + anecdote of a Lord of Misrule, 267; + the Mayor of Garratt, 269; + regiment de la Calotte, ib., and note, 270; + Republic of Baboonery, ib.; + medals used for money in, iii. <a href="#page150">150</a>, <a href="#page151">151</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Sauntering</span>, i. 175.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Savages</span>, various usages of at meals, i. 171-173.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Scaliger</span>, Julius, his singular manner of composition, ii. 86.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Scaramouches</span>.—See <span class="sc">Pantomime</span>. + Punch and Zany, prints of, ii. 125; + character of, invented by Tiberio Fiurilli, 126; + power of a celebrated, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Scaron</span>, account of his life and works, i. 421-428.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Scenery</span> of the old English stage, iii. <a href="#page4">4</a>, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Scenarie</span>, the plots of extemporal comedies, ii. 130; + description of, note; + some discovered at Dulwich College, 139, 140, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Scribleraid</span>, the, a poetical jest on pseudo-science, by R. O. Cambridge, i. 295, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Scripture</span> story treated like mediæval romance, i. 163, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Scudery</span>, Mademoiselle, composed ninety romances, i. 106; + panegyrics on, ib.; + her “Great Cyrus and Map of Tenderness,” 107.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Scudery</span>, George, famous for composing romances, i. 107; + a votary of vanity, ib.; + author of sixteen plays, 108.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Secret History</span>, of authors who have ruined their booksellers, ii. 532-546; + of an elective monarchy, iii. <a href="#page346">346</a>-363; + the supplement of history itself, iii. <a href="#page380">380</a>; + reply to an attack on the writers of, <a href="#page382">382</a>; + two species of, positive and relative, ib.; + the true sources of to be found in MS collections, <a href="#page383">383</a>; + neglect of by historians, <a href="#page384">384</a>; + its utility, <a href="#page385">385</a>; + of the Restoration, <a href="#page386">386</a>; + of Mary, the Queen of William III., <a href="#page389">389</a>-393.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Sedan</span> chairs, introduced into England by the Duke of Buckingham, ii. 36.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Segni</span>, Bernardo, his History of Florence, iii. <a href="#page182">182</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Sentimental</span> biography, iii. <a href="#page414">414</a>-424.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Serassi</span>, writes the life of Tasso, ii. 444; + finds Galileo’s MS. annotations, copies them, and suppresses the original, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Sermons</span>, printed, Bayle’s saying on, i. 345.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Seymour</span>, William, his family and character, ii. 508; + enters into a treaty of marriage with the Lady Arabella Stuart, ib.; + summoned before the Privy Council, ib.; + his marriage, 509; + imprisoned in the Tower, ib.; + his wife’s letter to him, 510; + his escape, 515; + is permitted to return, 519.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Shakespeare</span>, Fuller’s character of, i. 380; + orthography of his name, ii. 238, and note; + introduces a masque in his “Tempest,” and burlesques the characters in court masques, iii. <a href="#page5">5</a>, and note; + bequest to his wife, <a href="#page302">302</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page538" id="page538"></a>538</span></p> + +<p><span class="sc">Shenstone</span>, the object of his poem of the Schoolmistress misunderstood, ii. 496; + his ludicrous index to, 499; + his character, his life, and his works, iii. <a href="#page90">90</a>-102.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Shoeing-horns</span>, ii. 297, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Silhouette</span>, a term not to be found in any dictionary, iii. <a href="#page84">84</a>; + originated in a political nickname, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Silk</span> stockings, pair of, presented to Queen Elizabeth, i. 226.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Silli</span>, ancient parodies, ii. 455.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Skelton</span>, his satire on Wolsey, iii. <a href="#page187">187</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Sneezing</span>, the custom of saluting after, i. 126; + attributed to St. Gregory, ib.; + Rabbinical account of, ib.; + anecdotes concerning, 127.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Snuff-boxes</span>, the rage, in the reign of Queen Anne, i. 229; + the Jesuits’, reported to be poisoned, ii. 442.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Solitude</span>, treatise on, by Sir George Mackenzie, ii. 50; + necessary for the pursuits of genius, 52; + discomforts of 53, 54.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Solomon</span>, accounted an adept in necromancy, i. 122; + story of him and the Queen of Sheba, 202.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Songs</span> among the Grecians, ii. 142; + sayings of Fletcher of Saltoun, and Dr. Clerk on, ib.; + Greek songs of the trades, 143; + of the weavers among the English, ib.; + harvest and oar-songs in the Highlands, ib.; + of the gondoliers, ib.; + Dibdin’s, 144; + old English, 145; + Swiss, 146; + Italian, composed at Florence, under the Medici, ib.; + French “Chansons de’ Vendange,” 147; + parodied, by Puritans, 148; + slang or flash, known to the Greeks, and specimens from Athenæus, 149; + ancient practices in, connected with old English customs, 150; + political, iii. <a href="#page179">179</a>, <a href="#page180">180</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Sonnah</span>, the, i. 113.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Sotades</span> travestied the Iliad, ii. 455.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Sotties</span>, more farcical than farce, i. 358; + specimen of one, 359-360.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Sovereignty</span> of the seas, ii. 79-81.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Spanish</span> Etiquette, instances of its absurdity, i. 194.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Spanish</span> Poetry, i. 100; + remarks on and illustrative quotations of, 101; + translation of a madrigal found in a newspaper, 102.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Speed</span>, the historian, suspicions of his originality, ii. 445.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Spenser</span>, Fuller’s character of, i. 379.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Spiders</span>, influence of music on, i. 272; + admired as food, ii. 355, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Stanzas</span> to Laura, i. 230.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Starching</span>, origin of, i. 227.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Steevens</span>, George, the Puck of commentators, iii. <a href="#page296">296</a>; + account of his literary forgeries, <a href="#page297">297</a>, <a href="#page298">298</a>; + the story of Milton and the Italian lady attributed to, <a href="#page299">299</a>; + his motives for omitting the Poems from his edition of Shakespeare, <a href="#page301">301</a>; + his trick on the antiquary Gough, <a href="#page303">303</a>, <a href="#page304">304</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Stephens</span>, Robert, the printer, his family and their works, i. 76, note; + divided the Bible into chapter and verse, iii. <a href="#page433">433</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Sternhold</span> and Hopkins, their version of the Psalms, ii. 472.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Stones</span>, presenting representations of natural forms, i. 244, 245.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Stosch</span>, Baron, his dishonest collecting, iii. <a href="#page318">318</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Streets</span> of London, origin of many of their names, ii. 239-243.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Stuart</span>, Arabella, mistakes of historians regarding, ii. 502; + her history, 503-519.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Stucley</span>, Sir Lewis, Vice-Admiral of Devon, accepted a surveillance over his kinsman, Sir Walter Rawleigh, iii. <a href="#page116">116</a>; + his base treachery, <a href="#page119">119</a>; + universally shunned in consequence, <a href="#page120">120</a>; + convicted of clipping gold, ib.; + his miserable death, <a href="#page121">121</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Student</span> in the metropolis, the, description of, by Gibbon, Rogers, and Descartes, i. 112.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Study</span>, plans of historical, ii. 90-92.</p> + +<p><span class="sc correction" title="originally out of alphabetical order">Stukeley</span>, Dr., his Imaginary History of the Empress Oriuna, i. 324, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Style</span>, remarks on, in the composition of works of science, i. 89; + strictures on the, of theological writers, ii. 21, 22; + on that of Lancelot Addison, 23.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Sugar-Loaf-Court</span>, origin of the name, ii. 10.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Suppression</span> of MSS.—See <span class="sc">Manuscripts</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Sydenham</span>, F., his melancholy death occasions the foundation of the Literary Fund, i. 34, and note.</p> + + +<p><span class="sc">Tablets</span>, and Table-books, ii. 26.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Talmud</span>, many copies of, burnt, i. 48; + a collection of Jewish traditions orally preserved, 114; + comprises +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page539" id="page539"></a>539</span> + <i>Mishna</i>, which is the text of the <i>Gemara</i>, its commentary, ib.; + general account of, ib.; + believed apocryphal, even by a few among the Jews, ib.; + time of the first appearance of its traditions uncertain, ib.; + compiled by Jewish doctors to oppose the Christians, ib.; + analysis of, by W. Wotton, 115; + two Talmuds, ib.; + committed to writing, and arranged by R. Juda, prince of the Rabbins, forming the Mishna, ib.; + disputes and opinions of the Rabbins on the form of the Mishna, ib.; + God’s study of, ib.; + curious, from its antiquity, 116; + specimens of, from the Mishnic titles, 116-118; + and from the Gemara, 119.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Tasso</span>, various opinions on the respective merits of him and Ariosto, i. 386; + Boileau’s criticism on, 388; + his errors national, ib.; + his verses sung by the gondoliers, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Taxation</span>, remarks on the popular feeling on, in ancient and modern times, iii. <a href="#page193">193</a>; + associated with the idea of tyranny, ib.; + illustrative anecdotes, <a href="#page194">194</a>; + efficacy of using a mitigated term for, <a href="#page195">195</a>; + gifts, tribute, benevolences, and loans, <a href="#page195">195</a>-198; + Burleigh’s advice on, <a href="#page199">199</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Taylor</span>, Thomas, a modern professor of Platonism, i. 215.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Tea</span>, opposition to the introduction of, ii. 317; + present of, declined by the Russian ambassador, 318; + Dutch bargain for, 319; + introduction into Europe, ib.; + shop-bill of the first vendor of, 320.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Tenures</span>, curious ancient, i. 187, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Thomas Aquinas</span>, some account of the works of, i. 63-65.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Timon</span> of Philius, his parodies of Homer, ii. 455.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Tichbourne</span>, Chidiock, concerned in Babington’s conspiracy, ii. 171; + his address to the populace at his execution, 176; + his letter to his wife, 177; + verses composed by him the night before his execution, 178.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Titles</span>, origins of, and anecdotes concerning, i. 155; + book of, published in Spain, ib.; + Selden’s <i>Titles of Honour</i>, ib.; + of books, 288-292.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Toleration</span>, practised by the Romans, and inculcated by Mahomet, iii. <a href="#page245">245</a>; + caution used in publishing works on, ib.; + early English advocates + of, <a href="#page246">246</a>, and note; + in Holland, ib.; + facts illustrative of the history of, <a href="#page247">247</a>, <a href="#page248">248</a>; + condemned by all parties, <a href="#page249">249</a>-253; + opinions of an English clergyman on, <a href="#page252">252</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Tom o’ Bedlams</span>, account of, ii. 311-314, and notes; + songs of, 315-317.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Torture</span>, Felton threatened with, ii. 376; + its frequent use in England, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Torquemada</span>, first Spanish inquisitor, in fourteen years persecuted 80,000 individuals, i. 166.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Townley</span>, Zouch, his poem on Felton, ii. 378; + collection of antique marbles formed by his descendant Charles Townley, purchased for the British Museum, ib., note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Traitors</span>, barbarous mode of execution of, in Queen Elizabeth’s time, ii. 175, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Treasures</span> in hills, iii. <a href="#page295">295</a>, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Trevoux</span>.—See <span class="sc">Dictionary</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Troubadors</span>, their poems and their loves, i. 444.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Trusler</span>, Doctor, first vendor of printed sermons imitating manuscript, i. 400.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Turner</span>, Doctor, a violent opposition leader in the second Parliament of Charles I., iii. <a href="#page451">451</a>; + an agent of the opposition in Parliament against the measures of Charles I., <a href="#page466">466</a>; + a disappointed courtier, <a href="#page467">467</a>, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Turkish Spy</span>, the, i. 377; + John Paul Marana, the author of, 378.</p> + + +<p><span class="sc">Urban</span> the Eighth, instances of his poetic sensibility, i. 456.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Usurers</span> of the 17th century, notice of the practices of, ii. 158-170.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Usury</span>, contrary opinions on, ii. 174, 175.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Utopia</span>, Sir Thomas More’s, missionaries proposed to be sent to, i. 320.</p> + + +<p><span class="sc">Vaccination</span>, strange dread of, ii. 317.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Vallancey’s</span> Collectanea, curious error in, i. 326, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Vanbrugh</span>, the architect of Blenheim, got a power from Lord Godolphin to contract in the Duke of Marlborough’s name, iii. <a href="#page104">104</a>; + produces the power, <a href="#page106">106</a>; + his depositions, ib.; + attempt of the Duchess of Marlborough to charge the debts of Blenheim on, <a href="#page108">108</a>; + conduct of the Duchess towards, <a href="#page109">109</a>; + discovery of his origin, <a href="#page110">110</a>, <a href="#page111">111</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page540" id="page540"></a>540</span></p> + +<p><span class="sc">Varchi</span>, Benedetto, his “Storie Florentine,” iii. <a href="#page183">183</a>; + remarks of Mr. Merivale on, ib., note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Varillas</span>, his fictitious work on the Reformation, i. 132, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Vasari’s</span> History of Artists, not entirely written by himself, iii. <a href="#page131">131</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Vatican</span>, library of, i. 4.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Vaucanson</span>, his mechanical figures, iii. <a href="#page284">284</a>, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Vaudevilles</span>, origin of the name, ii. 148.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Verses</span>, follies in the fantastical forms of, i. 295-300; + reciprocal, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Vicar of Bray</span>, story of the, i. 196; + Dr. Kitchen, Bishop of Llandaff, acted the same part, 197; + type of, ii. 37.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Vida</span>, Jerome, from the humblest obscurity attained to the episcopacy, i. 105.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Vision of Alberico</span>, ii. 422; + of Charles the Bald, 423.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Virgin Mary</span>, images of, frequently portraits of mistresses and queens, i. 366; + miraculous letter of, 367; + Louis II. conveys Boulogne to, ib.; + Life of, by Maria Agreda, ib.; + worship paid to, in Spain, 368; + system of, in seven folio vols., 369.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Virginity</span>, St. Ambrose’s treatise on, i. 412.</p> + + +<p><span class="sc">Walker</span>, his account of the clergy of the Church of England who were sequestered, &c., iii. <a href="#page243">243</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Walpole</span>, Sir Robert, his magnificent building at Houghton, iii. <a href="#page191">191</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Walsingham</span>, Sir Francis, died in debt, iii. <a href="#page192">192</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Walworth</span>, Sir William, his private motive for killing Wat Tyler, iii. <a href="#page470">470</a>, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Warburton</span>, J., by neglect causes the destruction of old manuscript plays, i. 54, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Wat Tyler</span>, anecdote of, iii. <a href="#page470">470</a>, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Westminster</span> elections always turbulent from the days of Charles the First, iii. <a href="#page461">461</a>, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Whig</span> and Tory, origin of the terms, iii. <a href="#page88">88</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Whistlecraft’s</span> Poem on King Arthur, ii. 496, note; + imitated by Byron in his Beppo, ib.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Whitelocke</span>, his Memorials, ii. 212; + his remembrances, a work addressed to his family, lost or concealed, ib.; + preface to the Remembrances preserved, ib.; + omissions in first edition of his Memorials, ii. 448.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Wife</span>, Literary, i. 327; + of Budæus, 328; + of Evelyn, who designed the frontispiece to his translation of Lucretius, ib.; + of Baron Haller, ib.; + Calphurnia, wife of Pliny, ib.; + Margaret, Duchess of Newcastle, 329; + extract from her epistle to her husband, ib.; + notices of the wives of various celebrated men, 332-337.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Wigs</span>, custom of using, i. 217-220; + Steele’s, 229.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Wilkins</span>, Bishop, his museum, iii. <a href="#page291">291</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Winkelmann</span>, the plan on which he composed his works, ii. 89.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Wolsey</span>, Cardinal, his magnificent houses, iii. <a href="#page187">187</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Women</span>, actors, first introduced on the Italian stage, ii. 140; + on the English, 284; + Kynaston a favourite actor of female characters, 285, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Woodcuts</span>, ancient, in the British Museum, i. 74, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Words</span>, introduction of new.—See <span class="sc">Neology</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Wood</span>, Anthony, when dying, caused his papers to be destroyed, ii. 243; + some, however, preserved, ib.; + secret history of the Earl of Oxford drawn from, ib.; + compelled to disavow the translation of his book, 453; + Gibbon’s opinion of his dulness opposed, 538, note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Writing</span>, minute, i. 275; + ancient modes of, ii. 20-26; + materials used for, 27-30.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Writing-Masters</span>, iii. <a href="#page167">167</a>; + Massey’s lives of, <a href="#page169">169</a>; + anecdote of Tomkins, <a href="#page171">171</a>; + Peter Bales, a celebrated, <a href="#page173">173</a>; + account of his contest with David Johnson, <a href="#page173">173</a>-177.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Xenocrates</span>, pupil of Plato, attacked Aristotle, i. 142.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Yvery</span>, notice of the History of the House of, iii. <a href="#page420">420</a>, and note.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Zany</span>, etymology of the word, ii. 123; and notes.</p> +</div> + +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<hr class="full" /> +<p class="center f80">THE END.</p> +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="pt2"> </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Curiosities of Literature, Vol. 3 (of +3), by Isaac Disraeli + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CURIOSITIES OF LITERATURE, VOL 3 *** + +***** This file should be named 31078-h.htm or 31078-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/0/7/31078/ + +Produced by Marius Masi, Jonathan Ingram and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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