THE DOCTOR, 
 
 a. 
 
 <5_
 
 JThere is a kind of physiognomy In the titles of books no legs than 
 in the faces of men, by which a skilful observer will as well know what 
 to expect from the one as the other. BUTLER'S REMAINS. 
 
 tOMDoir 
 
 PBIHTZD BY SPOTTISWOODB AKD CO. 
 
 SUW-StlthSL
 
 E .Had! del 
 
 ^Sftdfa
 
 
 'I I 
 
 
 3M (DMIE 
 
 
 pr 
 
 
 

 
 THE DOCTOR, 
 
 &c. 
 
 BY THE LATB 
 
 BDITKU BY 
 
 HIS SON-IN-LAW, 
 
 JOHN WOOD WARTER, B.D. 
 
 IN ONE VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 
 1865.
 
 'THOUGH THOi: HAbST MAPE A GENERAL SURVEY 
 OP ALL THE BEST OP MEN'S BEST KNOWLEDGES, 
 AND KNEW 80 MUCH AS EVER LEARNING KNEW; 
 VET DID IT MAKE THEB TRUST THYSELF THE LESS. 
 AND LESS PRESUME. AND YET WHEN BEING MOV*I> 
 IN PHIVITB TALK TO SPEAK ; THOU DIDST BEWRAY 
 HOW FULLY FRAUGHT THOU WERT WITHIN; AND PROV'o 
 THAT THOU DIDST KNOW WHATEVER WIT COULD SAV. 
 WHICH SHOW'D THOU HADST NOT BOOKS AS MANY HAVE. 
 POR OSTENTATION, BUT FOR USE J AND THAT 
 THY BOUNTEOUS MEMORY WAS SUCH AS GAVK 
 A LARGE REVENUE OP THE GOOD IT OAT. 
 WITNESS IO MANY VOLUMES, WHERETO THOU 
 HAST SET THY NOTES UNDER THY LEARNED HAND. 
 AND MARK'D THEM WITH THAT PRINT, AS WILL SHOW HO^ 
 THE POINT OP THY CONCEIVING THOUGHTS DID STAND , 
 THAT NONE WOULD THINK, IP ALL THY LIFE HAD BE8N 
 fURN'D INTO LEISURE, THOU COULDST HAVE ATTAIN'P 
 MUCH OF TIMB, TO HAVE PERUS'D AND SEEN 
 
 SO MANY VOLUMES THAT MUCH CONTAIN'D." 
 
 DANIEL. Funeral Poem upon the Death oj the late Noble 
 Earl of Devonshire. 
 
 " WELL-LANGUAGED DANIEL," as Browne called him in his " Britannia's Pastorals," was one of 
 Southey's favourite poets. Let the above extract speak of the Author of " THE DOCTOR, &c." 
 
 THE EDITOR.
 
 EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 THE intrinsic beauty, and, what is of more consequence, the moral and 
 religious value of the sentiments contained in " THE DOCTOR, &c.," has called 
 for a new and popular Edition of that work. It has fallen to my lot, 
 otherwise laboriously occupied, to edit it. What is done, ought to be 
 done well, whether it be so or not, competent readers will be the best 
 judges. Not unversed in books, and familiar with ancient and modern 
 languages as toward circumstances have made me, I trust the endeavour 
 has not been unattained, though some errors 
 
 ... Quas out incuriafud.it 
 Aut humanaparum cavit natura 
 
 will unavoidably be detected and charitably overlooked. 
 
 Five out of six, it has been said by those quite able to form an unbiassed 
 and judicious opinion, were assured as to the authorship of "THE DOCTOR, 
 &c." It is now well known that the lamented Southey played with its pages 
 as he did with his kittens, as a relaxation from his bread-earning and every- 
 day pursuits. It is not too much to say that no one but Southey could 
 have written it. Line upon line, page upon page, shows the man that 
 feared God, and honoured the King, and loved his Country, and despised 
 all political tinkers, whether in matters ecclesiastical or civiL 
 
 The extract following from a letter to Miss Caroline Bowles, the 
 present no less talented than amiable and excellent Mrs. Southey, and 
 my much valued friend, contains the most interesting particulars relative 
 to the work. It is dated, Keswick, June, 1835. 
 
 " Miss B., who then lived in the next house, was the Bhow Begum. 
 That whole chapter " (that is, Chapter VII. A. I.) " is from the life, and the 
 Book grew out of that night's conversation, exactly as there related. But 
 to go farther back with its history. There is a story of Dr. D. D. of D., 
 and of his horse Nobs, which has, I believe, been made into a Hawker's 
 Book. Coleridge used to tell it, and the humour lay in making it as long- 
 winded as possible ; it suited, however, my long-windedness better than 
 his, and 1 was frequently called upon for it by those who enjoyed it, and 
 sometimes I volunteered it, when Coleridge protested against its being told.
 
 EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 As you may suppose, it was never twice told alike, except as to names, and 
 the leading features. "With something of Tristram Shandy, something of 
 Rabelais, and more of Montaigne, and a little of old Burton, the predomi- 
 nant characteristic is still my own." 
 
 Though railroads outrun literature, and Mammon haa more votaries 
 than religious and useful learning, it says something for us that a book 
 such as " THE DOCTOR, &c." should again be called for, the more so when it 
 is considered that its readers, after all, must be rather fit and few than 
 many. But, well said Walter Savage Landor, " Southey was the first, 
 and remains to the present day almost the only critic, who was constantly 
 guided by truth and conscience. Added to which, his judgment, especially 
 in works of imagination, was incomparably more correct than any other 
 man's." 
 
 It only remains to add that the " AUTHOR OF THE DOCTOR, &c., IN HIS 
 STUDY," and the " SKETCH OF THE BUST," are by Nash, "Edward Nash," 
 (as he is described in the Colloquies, i. 238.) " My dear, kind-hearted 
 friend and fellow traveller, whose death has darkened some of the blithest 
 recollections of my latter life." Both of these are excellent in their way, 
 but the engraving of the Bust, in the eyes of myself, and Southey 's eldest 
 daughter, Edith May Warter, is perfect. " THE VIEW OF KESWICK FROM 
 THE STUDY WINDOW " is by Mrs. Southey, and it is a view not to be 
 forgotten. For the few foot-notes not marked R. S., the Editor is 
 responsible. 
 
 I had laid down the pen, when these words of old Fuller (an especial 
 favourite of Southey's) flashed across my mind. Reader! " No DISCREET 
 
 PERSON WILL CONCLUDE OUR FAITH THE WORSE, BECAUSE OUR CHARITY IS 
 
 THE MORE." Apply them as thou readest ! 
 
 JOHN WOOD WARTER. 
 
 VICARAGE HOUSE, WEST TABUING, SUSSEX, 
 May 1 5th, 1848
 
 PRELUDE OF MOTTOES. 
 
 Now they that like it may : the rest may chuse. 
 
 G. WITHER. 
 
 Je veux A face descouverte qu'on sfache quejefay lefol. 
 Et pourqiioy ne me ie sera-t-il permis, si le grand Solon 
 dans Athtnes, nedouta de lefairepour apporter un grand 
 bien a sa Republique f La Republiqne dont fay charge, 
 est ce petit monde que Dieu a estably en may ; pour la 
 conservation duqucl je ne scay meilleur mot/en que de 
 trompet tries afflictions par quelques honnestes jeux 
 f esprit ; appellez-les bouffimneries si ainsi le voulez. 
 
 PASQDIER. 
 
 If you are so bold as to venture a blowing-up, look 
 closely co it ! for the plot lies deadly deep, and 'twill be 
 between your legs before you be aware of it. But of all 
 things have a care of putting it in your pocket, for fear it 
 takes fire, or runs away with your breeches. And if you 
 can shun it, read it not when you are alone ; or at least not 
 late in the evening ; for the venom is strongest about mid- 
 night, and seizes most violently upon the head when the 
 party is by himself. I shall not tell you one line of what 
 is in it ; and therefore consider well what you do, and 
 look to yourself. But if you be resolved to meddle, be 
 sure have a care of catching cold, and keep to a moderate 
 diet ; for there is danger and jeopardy in it besides. 
 
 DR. EACHARD. 
 
 For those faults of barbarism, Doric dialect, extempo- 
 ranean stile, tautologies, apish imitation, a rhapsody of 
 rags gathered together from several dung-hills, excre- 
 ments of authors, toyes and fopperies, confusedly tumbled 
 out, without art, invention, judgement, wit, learning, 
 harsh, raw, rude, phantasticall, absurd, insolent, indis- 
 creet, ill-composed, indigested, vain, scurrile, idle, dull, 
 and dry: I confess all; ('tis partly affected;) thou 
 canst not think worse of me than I do of myself. 'Tis not 
 worth the reading ! I yield it. I desire thee not to lose 
 time in perusing so vain a subject. I should be peradven- 
 ture loth myself to read him or thee so writing ; 'tis not 
 upercE pntium. All I say is this, that I have precedents 
 for it. BURTON. 
 
 A foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures, 
 shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revolu- 
 tions ; these are begot in the ventricle of memory, 
 nourished in the womb ofpia mater, and delivered upon 
 the mellowing of the occasion. But the gift is good in 
 those in whom it is acute, and I am thankful for it. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. 
 
 If the world like it not, so much the worse for them. 
 
 COWPKR. 
 
 un boschetto; 
 
 Donne per quello giuanjior cogti'endo. 
 
 Con dilt'tto, co' qttfl, co' quel dicendo ; 
 
 Eccolo, eccol! . . che a? efiordaliso! 
 
 Va la per le viole ; 
 
 Piit cola per le rose, cole, cole, 
 
 Vaghe amorose. 
 
 O me, che' Iprun mipunge! 
 
 Quell" ultra me v' aggiunge. 
 
 V, it, o, ch' e quel che salta f 
 
 Un grillo ! un grillo ! 
 
 Venite qua, correte, 
 
 Ramponzoli cogliete ; 
 
 E' non con essi ! 
 
 Si, ion ! colei o colei 
 
 Vien qua, vien qua perfunghi, un micolino 
 
 Piu cold, piii cola per sermollino. 
 
 UGOIINO UBALDINI or 
 FRANCO SACCHETTI. 
 
 If the particulars seem too large or to be over tediously 
 insisted upon, consider in how many impertinent and 
 trifling discourses and actions the best of us do consume 
 far more hours than the perusal of this requires minutes, 
 and yet think it no tediousness : and let them call to mind 
 how many volumes this age imprints and reads which are 
 foolish if not wicked. Let them be persuaded likewise, 
 that I have not written this for those who have no need 
 thereof, or to shew my own wit or compendiousness but 
 to instruct the ignorant ; to whom 1 should more often 
 speak in vain, if I did not otherwhile by repetitions and 
 circumlocutions, stir up their affections, and beat into 
 their understandings the. knowledge and feeling, of those 
 things which I deliver. Yea, let them, know that I know 
 those expressions will be both pleasing and profitable to 
 some which they imagine to be needless and super- 
 abundant ; and that I had rather twenty nice critics 
 should censure me for a word here and there superfluous 
 than that one of those other should want that which might 
 explain my meanings to their capacities, and so make 
 frustrate all my labour to those who have most need of 
 it, and for whom it was chiefly intended. 
 
 G. WITHER. 
 
 Tempus ad hoc mecum latuit, par tuque resedit, 
 
 Necfuit audaces impetus ire vius. 
 Nunc animi venere-, juvat nunc. deniquefunem 
 
 Solvere : 
 
 Ancora sublala est ; terras, portusque valete ! 
 
 linus i habet ventus nostra carina tuus. 
 
 WALLIU*.
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 THERE was a certain Pisander whose name 
 has been preserved in one of the proverbial 
 sayings of the Greeks, because he lived in 
 continual fear of seeing his own ghost. How 
 often have I seen mine while arranging these 
 volumes for publication, and carrying them 
 through the press ! 
 
 Twenty years have elapsed since the in- 
 tention of composing them was conceived, 
 and the composition commenced, in what 
 manner and in what mood the reader will 
 presently be made acquainted. The vicissi- 
 tudes which in the course of those years 
 have befallen every country in Europe are 
 known to every one ; and the changes, which, 
 during such an interval, must have occurred 
 in a private family, there are few who may 
 not, from their own sad experience, readily 
 apprehend. 
 
 Circumstances which when they were 
 touched upon in these volumes were of 
 present importance, and excited a lively 
 interest, belong now to the history of the 
 past. They who were then the great per- 
 formers upon the theatre of public life have 
 fretted their hour and disappeared from the 
 stage. Many who were living and nourish- 
 ing when their names were here sportively 
 or severely introduced are gone to their 
 account. The domestic circle which the 
 introduction describes has in the ordinary 
 course of things been broken up ; some of 
 its members are widely separated from 
 others, and some have been laid to rest. 
 The reader may well believe that certain 
 passages which were written with most 
 joyousness of heart, have been rendered 
 purely painful to the writer by time and 
 change : and that some of his sweetest 
 thoughts come to him in chewing the cud, 
 like wormwood and gall. But it is a 
 wholesome bitterness. 
 
 He has neither expunged nor altered any 
 thing on any of these accounts. It would 
 be weakness to do this on the score of his 
 own remembrances, and in the case of allu- 
 sions to public affairs and to public men it 
 would be folly. The Almanack of the cur- 
 rent year will be an old one as soon as next 
 year begins. 
 
 It is the writer's determination to re- 
 main unknown ; and they who may suppose 
 that 
 
 By certain signs here set in sundry place, 
 
 they have discovered him, will deceive them- 
 selves. A Welsh Triad says that the three 
 unconcealable traits of a person by which he 
 shall be known, are the glance of his eye, the 
 pronunciation of his speech, and the mode 
 of his self-motion ; in briefer English, his 
 look, his voice, and his gait. There are no 
 such characteristics by which an author can 
 be identified. He must be a desperate 
 mannerist who can be detected by his style, 
 and a poor proficient in his art if he cannot 
 at any time so vary it, as to put the critic 
 upon a false scent. Indeed every day's 
 experience shows that they who assume 
 credit to themselves, and demand it from 
 others for their discrimination in such 
 things, are continually and ridiculously 
 mistaken. 
 
 On that side the author is safe ; he has a 
 sure reliance upon the honour as well as the 
 discretion of the very few to whom he is 
 naturally or necessarily known ; and if the 
 various authors to whom the Book will be 
 ascribed by report, should derive any grati- 
 fication from the perusal, he requests of 
 them in return that they will favour his 
 purpose by allowing sucli reports to pass 
 uncontradicted.
 
 PRELUDE OF MOTTOES. 
 
 [Prefixed to Fol. III. in the original Edition.} 
 
 PRELUDE OF MOTTOES. 
 
 "Ayt ivi, X . . . 
 ' txi7rt, 
 
 ARISTOPHANES. 
 
 Jc vas de nouveau percer mon tonneau, etde la traicte, 
 laquelle par deux precedents volumes voui est aa>ez cog- 
 neue, vous tirer du creux de nos passetemps epicenatres 
 un galant Herein, et consccutivement un joyeux quart de 
 sentences Pantagruelliques. Par moy vous sera licite les 
 appeller Diogcniqufs. Et peur n'ayez que le vin faille. 
 Autant que vous en tireray par la dille, aulant en en- 
 tonneray per le bondon. Ainsi demourera le tonneau 
 inexpuisible. 11 a source vive el veine perpetuelle. 
 
 RABELAIS. 
 
 The wholesom'st meats that are will breed satiety 
 Except we should admit of some variety. 
 
 In music, notes must be some high, some base. 
 And this I say, these pages have intendment, 
 
 Still kept within the lists of good sobriety, 
 To work in men's ill manners good amendment. 
 
 Where/ore if any think the book unseasonable. 
 Their stoic minds are foes to good society, 
 
 And men of reason may think them unreasonable. 
 It is an act of virtue and of piety, 
 
 To warn men of their sins in any sort, 
 
 la prose, in verse, in earnest, or in sport. 
 
 SIR JOHN HARRINGTON. 
 
 The great cement that holds these several discourses 
 together is one main design which they jointly drive at, 
 and which, I think, is confessedly generous and important, 
 namely, the knowledge of true happiness, so far as 
 reason can cut her way through those darknesses and 
 difficulties she is encumbered with in this life : which 
 though they be many and great, yet I should belie the 
 sense of my own success, if I should pronounce them in- 
 superable ; as also, if I were deprived of that sense, 
 should lose many pleasures and enjoyments of mind, 
 which 1 am now conscious to myself of: amongst which, 
 there is none so considerable as that tacit reflection within 
 myself, what real service may be rendered to religion by 
 these my labours. HENRY MORE. 
 
 Scriberefert animus multa et diversa, nee uno 
 Gurgite versari semper ; quoflamina ducent 
 Ibimus, et nunc has, nunc illas nabimus undas ; 
 Ardua nunc ponti, nunc littora tula petemus. 
 Et quanqutint interdumfretus ratione, latentes 
 Xaturte tentabo vins, atque abdita pandam, 
 Prtecipue tauten ilia sequar qutecunque videntur 
 Prodesse, ac sanctos mortaltbus addere mares, 
 Heu penitus (liceat verum mi/ii dicere) nostro 
 Eztinctos tevo. PALINGENIUS. 
 
 Ja n'est besoin (atrty Lecteur! ) t'escrire 
 
 Par le m nu le provffit et plaisir 
 
 Que recevras si ce livre veux lire, 
 
 Et d'icclhiy le sens prendre au desir ; 
 
 Veuille done prendre a le lire Icisir, 
 
 Et que ce soil avecq intelligence. 
 
 Si in le fm's, propos de grand plaisance 
 
 Tu y vrras, et moult p> otifflteras ; 
 
 Et si fiftidras engrand resjuuistance 
 
 Le tien esprit, et ton temps passcras. JEAN FAVRE. 
 
 " Gods me ! how now ! what present have we here '( " 
 
 " A Book that stood in peril of the press ; 
 But now it's past those pikes, and doth appear 
 
 To keep the lookers on from heaviness." 
 " What stuff contains it ? " " Fustian, perfect spruce, 
 
 Wit's gallimalfry, or wit fried in steaks." 
 " From whom came it, a God's name?" "From hit 
 Muse, 
 
 (Oh do not tell [) that still your favour seeks." 
 " And who is that?"" Truth that is I." "What I? 
 
 I per se I, great I, you would say." " No 1 
 Great I indeed you well may say ; but I 
 
 Am little i, the least of all the row." 
 
 DA VIES OP HEREFORD. 
 
 Lector, esto libra te ofrezco, sin que me aya mandado 
 Senor alguno que le escriva, ni menot me ayan impor- 
 tunado mis amigos que le eilampe, iino solnnente par mi 
 gusto, par mi antojo y par mi voluntad. MONT AJ. VAN. 
 
 The reader must not expect in this work merely the 
 private uninteresting history of a single person. He may 
 expect whatever curious particulars can with any pro* 
 priety be connected with it. Nor must the general dis- 
 quisitions and the incidental narratives of the present 
 work be ever considered as actually digressionary in their 
 natures, and as merely useful in their notices. They are 
 all united with the rest, and form proper parts of the 
 whole. They have some of them a necessary connexion 
 with the history of the Doctor ; they have many of them 
 an intimate relation, they have all of them a natural 
 affinity to it. And the Author has endeavoured, by a 
 judicious distribution of them through the work, to pre- 
 vent that disgusting uniformity, and to take off that un- 
 interesting personality, which must necessarily result 
 from the merely barren and private annals of an obscure 
 individual. He has thus in some measure adopted the 
 elegant principles of modern gardening. He has thrown 
 down the close hedges and the high walls that have con- 
 fined so many biographers in their views. He has called 
 in the scenes of the neighbouring country to his aid, and 
 has happily combined them into his own plan. He has 
 drawn off the attention from the central point before it 
 became languid and exhausted, by fetching in some ob- 
 jects from society at large, or by presenting some view of 
 the philosophy of man. But he has been cautious of mul- 
 tiplying objects in the wantonness of refinement, and of 
 distracting the attention with a confused variety. He has 
 always considered the history of the Doctor, as the great 
 fixed point, the enlivening centre, of all his excursions. 
 Every opening is therefore made to carry an actual re- 
 ference, either mediate or immediate, to the regular his- 
 tory of the Doctor. And every visto is employed only 
 for the useful purpose of breaking the stiff straight lines, 
 of lighting up the dark, of heightening the little, and of 
 colouring over the lifeless, in the regular history of the 
 Doctor. 
 
 Preface to \VHITAK.EH'S History of Manchester, 
 mutatis mutandis. 
 
 Chi Iristezza da se cacctar de&ia, 
 Legga quest' opra saporita e bella. 
 
 BERTOLDO. 
 
 I exhort all People, gentle and simple, men, women and 
 children, to buy, to read, to extol, these labours of mine. 
 Let them not fear to defend every article ; for I will bear 
 them harmless. I have arguments good store, and can 
 easily confute, either logically, theologically, or metaphy- 
 sically, all those who oppose me. ARBUTUNOT.
 
 PliELUDE OF MOTTOES. 
 
 Scripta legis passim qunmplurima, lectur, in orbe, 
 Qua damni plus quant commoditcitis habent. 
 
 Hiec/vgienda procul cum sinl, sic ilia pelenda, 
 Juctmda ulilibus qiue bene juncta docent. 
 
 P. RUBIGALLUS PANNONICS. 
 
 Out of the old fieldes, as men saith, 
 Cometh all this new corn fro* year to year ; 
 
 And out of old bookes, in good faith, 
 Cometh all this new science that men lere. 
 
 CHAUCER. 
 
 [Prefixed to Vol. IV. in the original Edition.'} 
 PRELUDE OF MOTTOES. 
 
 TO THE READER IN ORDINARY. 
 
 The Muses forbid that I should restrain your meddling, 
 whom I see already busy with the title, and tricking over 
 the leaves : it is your own. I departed with my right, when 
 I let it 6rst abroad ; and now so secure an interpreter I 
 am of my chance, that neither praise nor dispraise from 
 you can affect me The commendation of good things 
 may fall within a many, the approbation but in a few ; for 
 the most commend out of affection, self-tickling, an 
 easiness or imitation ; but men judge only out of know- 
 ledge. That is the trying faculty ; and to those works 
 that will bear a judge, nothing is more dangerous than a 
 foolish praise. You will say, I shall not have yours there- 
 fore ; but rather the contrary, all vexation of censure. If 
 I were not above such molestations now, I had great 
 cause to think unworthily of my studies, or they had so of 
 me. But I leave you to your exercise. Begin. 
 
 BEN JONSON. 
 
 Je n'adresse point ce Livre & un Grand, stir une vaine 
 opinion quej'aurois de la garantir ou de I'envie, ou de le 
 fairs vivre contre les rudes assauts du temps, d'autant que 
 sa principale recommendation doit deriver de son propre 
 fonds, et nan de I'appuy tie celuy a quije le dedierois : car 
 rien ne F ' auclorisera, s'il n'est remply de belles concep- 
 tions, et tissu d'un langage bref, nerveux, et escrit d'une 
 plume franche, resolve et hardie. La rondeur d'escrire 
 plaist ; ces chases sont pour donner prix et pointe a nos 
 escrits, et dtpiter le temps et la mart. Je prie Dieu que 
 ces Tomes ressemblent a la beauti d'un jardin, duqutl 
 Pun cueille une belle rose, fautre une violette, ou une 
 giroflee; ainsi souhaitay-je qu'en ceste diversite de sujects, 
 dont elles sont plaines, chacun tire dequoy resveiller, res- 
 jouyr et contenter son esprit. NICOLAS PASQUIKR. 
 
 Non ego me methodo astringam serviliter ulla, 
 Sed temere Hyblccce more vagabor apis, 
 
 Quo me tpes prcedce, et gene randi gloria mellis, 
 Liberaque ingenii quoferet ala mei. COWLEY. 
 
 Take not too much at once, lest thy brain turn edge ; 
 Taste it first as a potion for physic, and by degrees thou 
 shall drink it as beer for thirst. FULLER. 
 
 QuiFafaitf Quiconque il ioit, en ce a este prudent, 
 qu'il n'y a point mil son nom. RABELAIS. 
 
 Jo me n' andrd con la barchetta mia, 
 
 Quanta I' acqua compnrta tin picciol legno ; 
 
 E cid rA' to penso con la fantasia, 
 Dipiacere ad ognuno e 'I mio ditcgno : 
 
 Cunvien che varic cose al mondo sia, 
 
 Come son varj volti e vario ingegno, 
 E piacc a V uno il bianco, a I' altro il pcr&o, 
 diverse materie in prosa o in verso. 
 
 Parse coloro ancor che leggeranno 
 
 Di questa tanto piccolo favilla 
 La mente con poca esca accenderanno 
 
 De' monti o di Parnaso o di Sibilla : 
 E de' mieifior come ape piglieranno 
 
 I dotti, s' alcun dolce ne distilla ; 
 11 resto a molli pur dara dilettu, 
 E lo autore ancorfia benedetto. PULCI. 
 
 Most Prefaces are effectually apologies, and neither the 
 Book nor the Author one jot the better for them. If the 
 Book be good, it will not need an apology ; if bad it will 
 not bear one : for where a man thinks by calling himself 
 noddy in the epistle, to atone for shewing himself to be 
 one in the text, he does, with respect to the dignity of an 
 author, but bind up two fools in one cover. 
 
 SIR RoGEa D'ESTRANGE. 
 
 Inter cuncta leges, 
 
 Qua ratione queas traducere leniter tevum ; 
 
 Ne te semper inops agitet vexeique cupido, 
 
 Ne pavor, et rerum mediocritcr utilium spes ; 
 
 Quid minuat euros ; quid te tibi reddat amicum ; 
 
 Quid pure tranquillet, honos, an dulce lucellum, 
 
 Ansecretum tier, etfallentis semita vitte. HORACE. 
 
 Si ne suis je toutesfois hors d'esperance, que si quel- 
 qu'un daigne lire, et bicn gouster ces miens escrits, (en- 
 cores que le langage n'en soit esleve, ny enfli) il ne les 
 trouvera du tout vuides de saveur ; ny tant desgarniz 
 d"utilite',qu'ils n'en jncissent tirer plaisir et profit,pourveu 
 que leurs esprits ne soyent auparavant saisiz de mal 
 vueillance, ou imbuz de quelques autres mauvaises 
 opinions. Je prie doncques tous Lecteurs entrer en la 
 lecture dfs presents discours, delivres de toute passion ct 
 emulation. Car quand I'amertume d'rnvie ou mal vueil- 
 lance, est detrempee en desir de contrcdire, elle ne laisse 
 jamais le goust que deprave et maljugeant. 
 
 PIERRE DE ST. JULIEN. 
 
 Here are no forced expressions, no rack'd phrase, 
 
 No Babel compositions to amaze 
 
 The tortured reader, no believed defence 
 
 To strengthen the bold Atheist's insolence, 
 
 No obscene syllable that may compel 
 
 A blush from a chaste maid. MASSINGEH. 
 
 Read, and fear not thine own understanding ; this book 
 will create a clear one in thee ; and when thou hast consi- 
 dered thy purchase, thou wilt call the price of it a charity 
 to thyself. SHIRLEY. 
 
 One caveat, good Reader, and then God speed thee ! - 
 Do not open it at adventures, and by reading the broken 
 pieces of two or three lines, judge it; but read it through, 
 and then I beg no pardon if thou dislikest it. Farewell. 
 THOMAS ADAMS. 
 Listen while my tongue 
 Reveals what old Harmodius wont to teach 
 My early age ; Harmodius, who had weigh'd 
 Within his learned mind whate'er the schools 
 Of Wisdom, or thy lonely whispering voice, 
 O faithful Nature, dictate of the laws 
 Which govern and support this mighty frame 
 Of universal being. AKENSIDE. 
 
 EURIPIDES.
 
 PRELUDE OF MOTTOES. 
 
 [Prefixed to Vol, V. in the original Edition.] 
 
 PRELUDE OF MOTTOES. 
 
 See here, gee here, a Doctor rare, 
 
 Who travels much at home ; 
 Come take his pills, they cure all ills, 
 
 Past, present, and to coma 
 
 Take a little of his nif-naf, 
 
 Put it on your tif-taf. 
 
 THE BISHOPRICK GARLAND. 
 
 Quod virgo proba, quod stolata mater, 
 Quod purus positd severitate 
 Jam postpulpita perlegat saccrdo*. 
 
 T.L. ON SIR WM. KILLIGREW'S SELISDBA. 
 
 I entered on this work certainly with considerable 
 materials, and since engaging in it, in reading, in think- 
 ing, in correcting and improving, I have proportioned my 
 labours to my undertaking. Every step I advanced, I did 
 but more clearly see how much farther I might go. Here 
 too readers and some writers may be reminded of the 
 effect produced by finding a pleasure in your employ- 
 ment ; some burdens are sweet ; you lose the sense of 
 weight by the deceptions of fancy and occasional rests ; 
 and in proportion as your journey becomes more agree- 
 able, you are in danger of growing more dilatory. 
 
 GEORGE DYER. 
 
 Si tu iombes entre let mains de ceux qui ne voyent rien 
 d'autruy que pour y trouver sujet de i'y desplaire, et qu'ils 
 te reprochent que ton Docteur est eunuyeux ; responds 
 Ifur qu'il est ii leur choix de lui voir ou ne lui voir point. 
 Si tic te trouves parmy ceux qui font profession d'inter- 
 preter les songes, et descouvrir les pensees plus secrettes 
 d'autruy, et qu'ils asseurent que * * est un tel homme 
 et * * une telle femme ; ne leur respond rien ; car ils 
 ifavent assex qu'ils ne sfavent pas ce qu'ils disent : mat's 
 supplie ceux qui pourroient eslre abusez de leur s fictions, 
 de consider er que si ces chases ne m'importent,j'aurois eu 
 bien peu d'esprit de Its avoir voulu dissimuler et ne C avoir 
 sceufaire. Que si en ce qu'ils diront, il n'y a guere d~ap- 
 parence, il ne lesfaut pas croire : et s'il y en a beaucoup, 
 il faut penser que pour couvrir la chose que je voulois 
 tenir caches et ensevelie,je feusse autrement desguisee. 
 
 ASTREE mutatis mutandis. 
 
 I would not be in danger of that law of Moses, that if a 
 man dig a pit and cover it not, he must recompense those 
 which are damnified by it ; which is often interpreted of 
 such as shake old opinions, and do not establish new as 
 certain, but leave consciences in a worse danger than they 
 found them in. I believe that law of Moses hath in it 
 some mystery and appliableness ; for by that law men are 
 only then bound to that indemnity and compensation, if an 
 ox or an ass, (that is such as are of a strong constitution 
 and accustomed to labour) fall therein ; but it is not said 
 so, if a sheep or a goat fall : no more are we if men in a 
 silliness or wantonness will stumble or take a scandal, 
 bound to rectify them at all times. And therefore because 
 I justly presume you strong and watchful enough, I make 
 account that I am not obnoxious to that law ; since my 
 meditations are neither too wide nor too deep for you. 
 DONNE'S LETTERS. 
 
 Such an author consulted in a morning sets the spirits 
 for the vicissitudes of the day, better than the glass does 
 a man's person. SIB RICHARD STEELE. 
 
 The Load-stone of Attraction I find out, 
 The Card of Observation guides about, 
 The Needle of Discretion points the way. 
 
 DUTCHESS OF NEWCASTLE. 
 
 /3'OTti trxCo-aa-t)- UMTOUOI. 
 "Piu.@iu.ftoi fx/yriri xtu a.<fiyyi7 tvxri AtiXa/nJT 
 Keu A/TSTt ffxrir,> ivxros, <frns 3s \a@lf{k' 
 GUTOS tSw Ttx-vrifftri ffctQr.y, ;TAcey?iT6f VT{U. 
 "EAfcrf , PLII rxfi'w 5= iiuxan, xeti yrifn out!' 
 'H- A/en yXuxvdifzl; iteu ifeio; i0a }.furu. 
 
 SIBYLLINE VERSES. 
 
 Of things that be strange 
 
 Who loveth to read 
 In this book let him range 
 
 His fancy to feed. RICHARD ROBINSON. 
 
 At ego tibi sermone isto 
 
 Varias fabulas conteram, auresque titas 
 
 Benevolus lepido tusurro permulceam. 
 
 APULBIDS. 
 
 Whoso doth attempt the Author's works to read 
 Must bring with him a stayed head, and judgement to 
 
 proceed ; 
 For as there be most wholesome hests and precepts to be 
 
 found, 
 So are there rocks and shallow shelves to run the ship 
 
 aground. ARTHUR GOLDING. 
 
 I am studying the art of patience: to drive six snails 
 before me from this town to Moscow, neither use goad nor 
 whip to them, but let them take their own time. The 
 patientest man i' the world match me for an experiment 1 
 
 WEBSTER. 
 
 He says and he says not, cares and he cares not, he's 
 king and he's no king ; his high-born soul is above this 
 sublunary world ; he reigns, he rides in the clouds and 
 keeps his court in the Horizon: he's Emperor of the 
 Superlative Heights, and lives in pleasure among the 
 Gods ; he plays at bowls with the Stars, and makes a foot- 
 ball of the Globe ; he makes that to fly far, far out of the 
 reach of Thought. HORLOTHRUMBO. 
 
 Lo libresfo befaitz, e de bos motz complit; 
 E sil voletz entendre, li gran e li petit 
 Podon i mot apendre de sen e de bel dtt; 
 Car aisel qui lefe nal ventre totftirsit, 
 E sel que nol conoish, ni nol a resentit. 
 Ja no so cujaria. 
 
 CANSOS DE LA CROZADA 
 CONTR ELS EREGES DALBREGES. 
 
 Something oddly 
 The book-man prated ; yet he talked it weeping. 
 
 FORD. 
 
 We content ourselves to present to thinking minds, 
 the original seeds from whence spring vast fields of new 
 theories, that may be further cultivated, beautified and 
 enlarged. Truth however being of a coherent nature, it 
 is impossible to separate one branch from another and see 
 it in all its beauty. I beg therefore my readers not to 
 judge of the work by parcels, but to continue to the end, 
 that so they may see the connection of every part with 
 the whole. Scattered rays do not always enlighten ; but 
 when reunited they give a mutual lustre to each other. 
 THE CHEVALIER RAMSAY.
 
 Xll 
 
 PRELUDE OF MOTTOES. 
 
 I must be allowed my freedom in my studies, for I sub- 
 stitute my writings for a game at the tennis-court or a 
 club at the tavern. I never counted among my honours 
 these opuscula of mine, but merely as harmless amuse- 
 ments. It is my partridge, as with St. John ; my cat, as 
 with Pope St. Gregory ; my little dog, as with St. Dominic , 
 my lamb, as with St. Francis ; (my pig, he might have 
 said as with St. Antony,) my great black mastiff', as with 
 Cornelius Agrippa ; and my tame hare, as with Justus 
 Lipsius. CATHBRINOT. 
 
 As quoted and translated by D' ISRAELI. 
 
 To ignorants obdurde, quhair wilfull errour lyis, 
 Nor zit to curious folks, quhilks carping dois deject thee, 
 
 Nor zit to learned men, quha thinks thame onelie wyis, 
 But to the docile bairns of knowledge I direct thee. 
 
 JAMES I. 
 
 Albeit I have studied much and learned little, yet I have 
 learned to glean some handfulls of corn out of the rankest 
 cockle; to make choice of the most fragrant flowers of 
 humanity, the most virtuous herbs of philosophy, the 
 most sovereign fruits of government, and the most hea- 
 venly manna of divinity; to be acquainted with the fairest, 
 provided for the foulest, delighted with the temperatest, 
 pleased with the meanest, and contented with all weather 
 greater men may profess and can achieve greater mat- 
 ters : I thank God I know the length, that is the short- 
 ness of my own foot. If it be any man's pleasure to ex- 
 tenuate my sufficiency in other knowledge, or practise to 
 empeach my ability in words or deeds, to debase my for- 
 tune, to abridge my commendations, or to annihilate my 
 fame, he shall find a cold adversary of him that hath laid 
 hot passions watering, and might easily be induced to be 
 the invective of his own non proficiency. 
 
 GABRIEL HARVEY. 
 
 I Prefixed to Vol. VI. in the original Edition.] 
 
 PRELUDE OF MOTTOES. 
 
 Two thyngys owyth every clerk 
 
 To advertysyn, begynnyng a werk, 
 
 If he procedyn wyl ordeneely, 
 
 The fyrste is what, the secunde is why. 
 
 In wych two wurdys, as it semyth me, 
 
 The Foure causys comprehendyd be 
 
 Wych as our philosofyrs us do teche, 
 
 In the begynnyng men owe to seche 
 
 Of every book ; and aftyr there entent, 
 
 The fyrst is clepyd cause efficyent: 
 
 The secunde they clepe cause materyal, 
 
 Formal the thrydde; the fourte fynal. 
 
 The efficyent cause is the auctour, 
 
 Wych aftyr hys cunnyng doth hys labour 
 
 To a complyse the begunne matere, 
 
 Wych cause is secunde ; and the more clere 
 
 That it may be, the formal cause 
 
 Settyth in dew ordre clause be clause. 
 
 And these thre thyngys, longyn to what, 
 
 Auctour, matere and forme ordinal, 
 
 The fynal cause declaryth pleynly 
 
 Of the werk begunne the cause why ; 
 
 That is to seyne what was the entent 
 
 Of the auctour fynally, and what he inent. 
 
 OSUKKN BOKBNAM. 
 
 Look for no splendid painted outside here, 
 But for a work devotedly sincere; 
 A thing low prized in these too high-flown days : 
 Such solid sober works get little praise. 
 
 Yet some there be 
 Love true solidity. 
 
 And unto such brave noble souls I write, 
 In hopes to do them and the subject right. 
 I write it not to please the itching vein 
 Of idle-headed fashionists, or gain 
 
 Their fond applause ; 
 I care for no such noise. 
 
 I write it only for the sober sort, 
 Who love right learning, and will labour for't ; 
 And who will value worth in art, though old, 
 And not be weary of the good, though told 
 
 'Tis out of fashion 
 By nine-tenths of the nation. 
 
 1 writ it also out of great good will 
 Unto my countrymen; and leave my skill 
 Behind me for the sakes of those that may 
 Not yet be born ; but in some after day 
 
 May make good use 
 Of it, without abuse. 
 
 But chiefly I do write it, for to show 
 A duty to the Doctor which I owe. 
 
 THOMAS MACB. 
 
 Physicians are many times forced to leave such methods 
 of curing as themselves know to be the fittest, and being 
 overruled by their patient's impatiency are fain to try the 
 best they can in taking that way of cure, which the cured 
 will yield unto: in like sort, considering how the case 
 doth stand with this present age, full of tongue and weak 
 of brain, behold we yield to the stream thereof: into the 
 causes of goodness we will not make any curious or deep 
 inquiry ; to touch them now and then it shall be sufficient, 
 when they are so near at hand that easily they may be 
 conceived without any far removed discourse. That way 
 we are contented to prove, which being the worse in itself, 
 is notwithstanding now, by reason of common imbecility, 
 the fitter and likelier to be brooked. HOOK.HI. 
 
 Qui lit beaucoup etjamais ne medite, 
 Semble a celuy qui mange avidenienl, 
 Et de tons mcts surcharge tellement 
 
 Son estomach que rien ne luy prqfit. 
 
 QUATRAINE DR PlBRAC. 
 
 Thus Englished by Sylvester, 
 
 Who readoth much and never meditates, 
 Is like a greedy ealer of much food, 
 
 Who so surcloys his stomach with his cates 
 That commonly they do him little good. 
 
 Je sqay qu'en ce discours Von me pourra reprendre, que 
 fay mis beaucoup de particularity qui sont fort super- 
 flues. Je If crois : mais,je Sfay, que si etles desplainent 
 it aucuns, elles plairont aux aulres: me scmblant, que ce 
 n'est pas assez, quand on loue ties personnel, dire qu'ettcs 
 sont belles, sages, vertueuses, raleureuses, vaillanles, mag- 
 nanimes, liberates, splendirics et tres-parfaites, Ce sont 
 loiianges et description* generates, et lieux-communs 
 empruntex de tout le inomle. II en faut specifier bien ie 
 tout, et descrire particulierement les perfections, afiu que 
 mieux on les louche au doigt: ct tette est man opinion. 
 
 BKANTOMK.
 
 PKELUDE OF MOTTOES. 
 
 xm 
 
 Nan sai se I'arte, o il caso abbiafornila 
 Cosi bell' opra, o siano cnlrambi a parts ; 
 
 Peroccht V arte i tal che il caso imita, 
 E' I caso e tal che rassomiglia all' arte : 
 
 E queslo a quella, e quella a questo unita, 
 Quanta pud, quanta sa, mesce e comparte. 
 
 Un la materia al bel lavor dispose, 
 
 L'altra meglio adornolla, epoi s' ascose.' 
 
 METASTASIO. 
 
 Tous ceux qui ant quelquesfvis pest le grand travail et 
 le labeur de F imagination, I'ont jugi pour le plus grand 
 qui se pui'sse truuver, et ont eu raison; d'autant que 
 celuy lequcl veut et desire en contcnter plusieurs, doit aussi 
 chercher des moyens ctffirens, afin que ce qui est ennuyeux 
 a l'un,l'autrele trouve doux et agreable; car dele donner 
 ti tons, il est impossible; veu, qu'entre trois personnel 
 seulement que Con aura conuiees, il se trouvera une 
 grande diference de gouts, ainsi que I'a dit Horace, luy 
 dis-je qui Favoit si bien experiments: par ainsi iln'cst 
 pas possible qu'en une si longue histoire que celle dontje 
 vay tr aidant, que je ne donne de la peine par la diversite 
 des chapitres. Tuutesfois si lejugement s'en faict par des 
 personnes privees et libres de toute passion, Us diront que 
 c'est le vray moyen d'entretenir les e>.prits curieux. 
 
 L'HisroiRE DU CHEVALIBB DU SOLEIL. 
 
 Be rather wise than witty, for much wit hath commonly 
 much froth ; and 'tis hard to jest and not sometimes jeer 
 too; which many times sinks deeper than was intended or 
 expected; and what was designed for mirth, ends in sad- 
 ness. CALEB TKENCHFIELD, 
 (probably a fictitious name,) RESTITUTA. 
 
 In some passages you will observe me very satirical. 
 Writing on such subjects I could not be otherwise. I can 
 write nothing without aiming, at least, at usefulness. It 
 were beneath my years to do it, and still more dishonour- 
 able to my religion. I know that a reformation of such 
 abuses as I have censured is not to be expected from the 
 efforts of an author; but to contemplate the world, its 
 follies, its vices, its indifferences to duty, and its strenuous 
 attachment to what is evil, and not to reprehend, were to 
 approve it. From this charge, at least, I shall be clear ; 
 for I have neither tacitly, nor expressly flattered either its 
 characters or its customs. COWPER. 
 
 Nemo co sapientius den'puisse, nemo stultius sapuisse 
 videtur. 
 
 Said of Cardan by I know not who. 
 
 II y en a quipensent que les lecteurs reyoivent peu a' in- 
 struction, quand on leur represente des choses qui n'ont 
 pas esle achevees, qu'eux appellent ceuvres imparfaites ; 
 mat's je ne suis pas de leur advis ; car quand quelquefait 
 est descrit a la veriti, et avec ses circonstances, encor qu'il 
 ne soft parvenu qu'a mychemin, si peut-on tnusjours en 
 tirer dufruict. LA NOUB. 
 
 Authors, you know of greatest fame, 
 
 Thro' modesty suppress their name ; 
 
 And would you wish me to reveal 
 
 What these superior wits conceal ? 
 
 Forego the search, my curious friend, 
 
 And husband time to better end. 
 
 All my ambition is, I own, 
 
 To profit and to please unknown, 
 
 Like streams supplied from springs below 
 
 Which scatter blessings as they flow. 
 
 DR. COTTON. 
 
 Thus have I, as well as I could, gathered a posey of 
 observations as they grew, and if some rue and worm- 
 wood be found amongst the sweeter herbs, their whole- 
 someness will make amends for their bitterness. 
 
 ADAM LITTLETON. 
 
 This worthy work in which of good examples are so 
 many, 
 
 This orchard of Alcinous, in which there wants not any 
 
 Herb, tree, or fruit that may mans use for health or 
 pleasure serve; 
 
 This plenteous horn of Acheloy, which justly doth de- 
 serve 
 
 To bear the name of Treasury of Knowledge, I present 
 
 To your good worships once again, desiring you there- 
 fore 
 
 To let your noble courtesy and favour countervail 
 
 My faults, where art or eloquence on my behalf doth fail, 
 
 For sure the mark whereat I shoot is neither wreaths of 
 bay, 
 
 Nor name of author, no, nor meed ; but chiefly that it 
 may 
 
 Be liked well of you and all the wise and learned sort ; 
 
 And next, that every wight that shall have pleasure for 
 to sport 
 
 Him in this garden, may as well bear wholesome fruit 
 away 
 
 As only on the pleasant flowers his retchless senses stay. 
 
 GOLDINO. 
 
 Doubtless many thoughts have presented, and are still 
 presenting themselves to my mind, which once I had no 
 idea of. But these, in I believe every instance, are as 
 much the growth of former rooted principles, as multiplied 
 branches grow from one and the same main stem. Of such 
 an inward vegetation I am always conscious ; and I equally 
 seem to myself to perceive the novelty of the fresh shoot, 
 and its connexion with what had been produced before. 
 ALEXANDER KNOX. 
 
 The extensive argument and miscellaneous nature of 
 the work led him to declare liis sentiments on a multitude 
 of questions, on which he thought differently from other 
 writers, and of course, to censure or confute their opinions. 
 Whole bodies of men, as well as individuals of the highest 
 reputation, were attacked by him, and his manner was to 
 speak his sense of all with freedom and force. So that 
 most writers, and even readers, had some ground of com- 
 plaint against him. Not only the free-thinkers and un- 
 believers, against whom the tenour of his book was 
 directed, but the heterodox of every denomination were 
 treated without much ceremony, and of the orthodox 
 themselves, some tenet or other, which till then they had 
 held sacred, was discussed and reprobated by him. Strag- 
 gling heresies, or embodied systems, made no difference 
 with him ; as they came in his way, no quarter was given 
 to either, " his end and manner of writing," as Dr. Mid 
 dleton truly observed, " being to pursue truth wherever 
 he found it." KURD'S LIFE OF WARBURTON. 
 
 Thou art like my rappee, here, a most ridiculous super- 
 fluity; but a pinch of thee now and then is a more delicious 
 t rea t. CLANDESTINE MARRIAGB. 
 
 Yea but what am I? 
 
 A scholar, or a schoolmaster, or else some youth ? 
 
 A lawyer, a student, or else a country clown ? 
 
 A brumman, a basket-maker, or a baker of pies ? 
 
 A flesh, or a fishmonger, or a sower of lies ? 
 
 A louse, or a louser, a leek or a lark, 
 
 A dreamer, a drommell, a fire or a spark ?
 
 XIV 
 
 PRELUDE OF MOTTOES. 
 
 A caitiff, a cut-throat, a creeper in corners, 
 A hairbrain, a hangman, or a grafter of homers ? 
 A merchant, a maypole, a man or a mackarel, 
 A crab or a crevise, a crane or a cockerel! ? 
 
 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA. 
 It may appear to some ridiculous 
 Thus to talk knave and madman, and sometimes 
 Come in with a dried sentence, stuft with sage. 
 
 WEBSTER. 
 
 Etsi verd, quce in isto opere desiderentur, rectius forsan 
 quam quivis alius, perspiciam ; et si meo plane voto stan- 
 dumfuisset, id, in tanta, quce fiodie est librorum copid, vel 
 plane suppressissem, vel in multos annos adhucpressissem; 
 tamen aliquid amicis, aliquid tempori dandum ; et cum Us 
 gut aliquid fructus ex eo spcrant, illud commumcandum 
 putavi. Hunc itaque meum qualcmcunque laborem, Lec- 
 tor candide, boni consuls ; quod te facile facturum confido, 
 si eum animum ad legendum attuleris, qucm ego ad scri- 
 bendum, veritatis nimirum aliisque inserviendi cupidum. 
 
 SENNERTUS. 
 
 [Prefixed to Vol. VII. in the original Edition.] 
 PRELUDE OF MOTTOES. 
 
 Well : we go on. MERIC CASAUBON. 
 
 Ventri utinam pax sit, sic varianle cibo. 
 
 VENANTIUS FORTUNATUS. 
 
 I had forgot one half, I do protest, 
 
 And now am sent again to speak the rest. DRYDEN. 
 
 Well said, Master Doctor, well said ; 
 
 By the mass we must have you into the pulpit. 
 
 LUSTY JCVENTUS. 
 
 Why this is quincy quarie pepper de watchet single go- 
 by, of all that ever I tasted 1 ROBERT GREENE. 
 Alonso. Prythee no more ! thou dost talk nothing to me. 
 Gonzalo. I did it to minister occasion to these gentle- 
 men who are of such sensible and nimble lungs, that they 
 always use to laugh at nothing. TEMPEST. 
 Comme Von voit, a Vouvrir de la porte 
 D'un cabinet royal, maint beau tableau, 
 Mainte antiquaiHe, et tout ce que de beau 
 Le Portugais des Indes nous apporte ; 
 
 A us si des lor s que Vhomme qui medite, 
 Et est syavant, commence de s'ouvrir, 
 Un grand thresor vient d se descouvrir, 
 
 Thresor cache au putts de Democrite. 
 
 QUATRAINS DE PIBRAC. 
 
 Cum enim infelicius nihil sit Us ingeniis, ut recte J. Ctes. 
 Scaliger censet, qute mordicus sentiunt Majores nostros 
 nihil ignorasse, mancipium alienarum opinionum nun- 
 quam esse volui. Contra nee me puduit ab aliis discere, 
 et qutcdam exits in mea scripta transferre ; quod omnibus 
 ircuttl ab omnibus viris doctis factitatum video, neminem- 
 que adhuc inventum existimo, qui omnia, quee in publicum 
 edidit, in suo cerebro nata esse gloriari potuerit. In- 
 venient tamen, qui volent, in meis aliqua, eaque a veritate 
 non aliena, qua; in aliorum scriplii forsan non ita stint 
 obviit. Verum omnibus placcre impossibile ; et, ut J. Ctes. 
 Scaliger ait 
 
 Qui sevit, ab alto pluviam satis precatur ; 
 
 At iterfaciens imbribus imprecatur atris, 
 
 Non stepe Deus placet ; et tu placer e credis t 
 
 Ideoque invidorum obtrectationibus nihil motus, tomurn 
 sextum Doctorls in publicum edidi, ac septimum jam in 
 
 manus sumam, et in eo quousque D. 0. M. placucrit, pro- 
 gredwr. In quo ipso etiatn etsi non pauca qutE obtrecta- 
 tioni malevolorum et invidorum obnoiia esse poterunt, 
 dicenda erunt, proferam tamen ea libere. SENNEHTUS. 
 
 Tired of thee, my Opus ? that is impossible ! 
 
 G'j^l fAttrrof you ytyov' ovftzi; ^TUTOT-. 
 rut f-t.lv yiaf aXXtm ifri xatrur !r}.r l /ru.otri' 
 
 fftu 3' tyiitr' ovtiiif fJMTTOi ev$ixutrTi. 
 
 ARISTOPHANES. 
 
 I desire the unlearned readers not to be offended for 
 that I have in some places intermixed Greek and Latin 
 (and other tongues) with the English. For I have an 
 especial regard unto young -scholars and students, unto 
 whom it is not possible to be expressed what great utility, 
 benefit, and knowledge doth redound, of conferring one 
 strange language with another. Neither is it to be 
 doubted, but that such as are towards the discipline of 
 good literature in divers tongues, may of such doings as 
 this pick out as much utility and furtherance of their 
 studies, as the unlearned shall take pleasure and fruit of 
 the English for their use. Whoso careth not for the 
 Latin may pass it over, and satisfy himself with the En- 
 glish. Whopasseth not on the Greek, may semblably pass 
 it over, and make as though he see none such. There is 
 in this behalf no man's labour lost but mine, and yet not 
 that all lost neither, if my good zeal and honest intent to 
 do good to all sorts, be in good part interpreted and ac- 
 cepted. NICHOLAS UDALL. 
 
 Truly for the Englishman to be offended with the ad- 
 mixtion of Latin, or the Latin-man to dislike the powder- 
 ing of Greek, appeareth unto me a much like thing, as if 
 at a feast with variety of good meats and drinks furnished, 
 one that loveth to feed of a capon should take displeasure 
 that another man hath appetite to a coney ; or one that 
 serveth his stomach with a partridge should be angry 
 with another that hath a mind to a quail ; or one that 
 drinketh small beer, should be grieved with his next 
 fellow for drinking ale or wine. NICHOLAS UDALL. 
 
 If food and amusement are wanted for the body, what 
 does he deserve who finds food and amusement for the 
 mind ? GNOMICA. 
 
 Mai voi, seguitate il ragionamento del Dottore ; et 
 mostrateci, come havete bona memoria ; che credo se sape- 
 rete ritaccarlo ove lo lasciaste, non f arete poco. 
 
 CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 If any complain of obscurity, they must consider, that 
 in these matters it cometh no otherwise to pass than in 
 sundry the works both of art and also of nature, where 
 that which hath greatest force in the very things we see, 
 is, notwithstanding, itself oftentimes not seen. The 
 stateliness of horses, the goodliness of trees, when we 
 behold them, delighteth the eye ; but that foundation 
 which beareth up the one, that root which ministereth 
 unto the other nourishment and life, is in the bosom of 
 the earth concealed ; and if there be at any time occasion 
 to search into it, such labour is then more necessary than 
 pleasant, both to them which undertake it, and for the 
 lookers on. HOOKER.
 
 PRELUDE OF MOTTOES. 
 
 [xiv] 
 
 Alcuni dicono ch' to ho crcduto formar me stcsso, per- 
 suadendomi che le conditioni ch' io al Dottore attribuisco, 
 tutte siano in me. A" guesli tali non voglio gid negar di 
 nan haver lenlato tutto quello, ch' io vorrei che sapesse fi 
 Dottore ; et penso che chi non havesse havuto qualche 
 notitia delle cose che nel libra si trattano, per erudito che 
 Jusse stato,male haverebbe potato scrivetle: ma io non 
 son tanto privo di giudicio in conoscere me slesso, che mi 
 presuma saper tutto quello, che to desiderare. 
 
 CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 In a building, if it be large, there is much to be done 
 in preparing and laying the foundation, before the walls 
 appear above ground; much is doing within, when the 
 work does not seem, perhaps, to advance without, and 
 when it is considerably forward, yet being encumbered 
 with scaffolds and rubbish, a bystander sees it at great 
 disadvantage, and can form but an imperfect judgment of 
 it. But all this while the architect himself, even from 
 the laying of the first stone, conceives of it according to 
 the plan and design he has formed ; lie prepares and ad- 
 justs the materials, disposing each in its proper t'.me and 
 place, and views it in idea as already finished. In due 
 season it is compleated, but not in a day. The top-stone 
 is fixed, and then, the scaffolds and rubbish being re- 
 moved, it appears to others as he intended it should be. 
 
 JOHN NEWTON. 
 
 Non si dea adunque V uomo contenlare di fare le cose 
 buone, ma dee studiare di farle unco leggiadre. E non I 
 altro leggiadria, che una cotale quasi luce, che risplende 
 datta convenevolezza delle cose, che sono ben composte, e 
 ben divisate F una con I' altra, e tutte insieme ; senza la 
 quel misura eziandio il bene non e bello, e la bellezza non 
 e piacevole. M. Gio. DELLA CASA, GALATEO. 
 
 Pick out of mirth, like stones out of thy ground, 
 
 Profaneness, filthiness, abusiveness ; 
 These are the scum with which coarse wits abound ; 
 
 The few may spare them well. HERBERT. 
 
 The wise, weighs each thing as it ought, 
 Mistakes no term, nor sentence wrests awry ; 
 
 The fond will read awhile, but cares for nought, 
 Yet easts on each man's work a frowning eye. 
 This neither treats of matters low nor high, 
 
 But finds a meane, that each good meaning might 
 
 In all true means take Charity aright. CHURCHYARD. 
 
 While others fish with craft for great opinion, 
 
 I with great truth catch mere simplicity. 
 
 Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns, 
 
 With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare. 
 
 Fear not my truth ; the moral of my wit 
 
 Is plain and true; there's all the reach of it. 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 on rc,f(tnxv;, xoux itt^r 
 aufiri' eti/Tu 3-oAu ri iSiot 
 
 riif aarir: 
 
 r t&tixa xa,rnn, 
 
 i<t\va.fli, 
 
 r' lip' 'ooixx xuTt 
 
 ARISTOPHANES. 
 
 Io vorrei, Monsignor, solo tanf arte 
 Ch' to polessi, per longo e per traverse, 
 Dipengervi il mio cor in quesle carte. 
 
 LUDOVICO DOLCE. 
 
 Kous nous aimons un peu, c'est notrefaible a tous ; 
 Lepriz que nous valons qui le $i;ail mieux que nous ? 
 Et puts la mode en est, et la cour I'auiorise, 
 Nous pinions de nous-mimes avec tout franchise. 
 
 CORNEILLE. 
 
 Mes paroles sont un peu de dure digestion pour la 
 foiblesse del estomacs d'a present. Mais si on let remache 
 bien, on en tirera beaucoup de substance. 
 
 MADEMOISELLE Boo RIG NON. 
 
 Supersunt etiant plurima qute diet possint in hanc 
 materiam, quibus pro vitando fastidio, supersedertdum 
 puto ; ut si quis eadem conari velit, habeat etiamnum 
 aliquid in quo exerceat induitriam. REN. RAPIN. 
 
 I wish thee as much pleasure in the reading as I had in 
 the writing. QUARLES. 
 
 U7]
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PRELUDE OF MOTTOES. Page vii. 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. p. viii. 
 CHAPTER VII. A.I. p. 1. 
 
 A FAMILY PARTY AT A NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOUR'S. 
 
 Good Sir, reject it not, although it bring 
 
 Appearances of some fantastic thing 
 
 At first unfolding ! GEORGE WITHER TO THE KING. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. A. I. p. 2. 
 
 SHOWING THAT AN AUTHOR MAY MORE EASILY BE 
 KEPT AWAKE BY HIS OWN IMAGINATIONS THAN 
 PUT TO SLEEP BY THEM HIMSELF, WHATEVER 
 MAY BE THEIR EFFECT UPON HIS READERS. 
 
 Thou sleepest worse than if a mouse should be forced 
 to take up her lodging in a cat's ear : a little infant that 
 breeds its teeth, should it lie with thee, would cry out as 
 if them wert the more unquiet bedfellow. \\EUSTEK. 
 
 CHAPTER V. A. I. p. 3. 
 
 SOMETHING CONCERNING THE PHILOSOPHY OF 
 DREAMS, AND THE AUTHOR'S EXPERIENCE IN 
 AERIAL HORSEMANSHIP. 
 
 If a dream should come in now to make you afear'd, 
 With a windmill on his head and bells at his beard, 
 Would you straight wear your spectacles here at your toes, 
 And your boots on your brows and your spurs on your 
 nose? BEN JONS ON. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. A. I. p. 4 
 
 A CONVERSATION AT THE BREAKFAST TABLE. 
 
 Tel condamne mon cog a-l'ane qui unjour enjustfflera le 
 bon sera. LA PRETILUSE. 
 
 CHAPTER III. A.I. p. 6. 
 
 THE UTILITY OF POCKETS. A COMPLIMENT PKO- 
 PERLY RECEIVED. 
 
 La tasca e propria cosa da Christiani. 
 
 BENEDETTO VARCHI. 
 
 CHAPTER II. A.I. p. 6. 
 
 CONCERNING DEDICATIONS, PRINTERS' TYPES, AND 
 IMPERIAL INK. 
 
 Jiy aura des clefs, ct des ouvertures de mes secrets. 
 LA PRETIEUSB. 
 
 DEDICATION. p. 8. 
 CHAPTER I. A.I. p. 8. 
 
 NO BOOK CAN BE COMPLETE WITHOUT A PREFACE. 
 
 I see no cause but men may pick their teeth. 
 Though Brutus with a sword did kill himself. 
 
 TAYLOR, THE WATER POET. 
 
 ANTE-PREFACE. p. 8. 
 
 I here present thee with a hire of bees, laden some with 
 wax, and some with honey. Fear not to approach ! 
 There are no Wasps, there are no Hornets here. If some 
 wanton Bee should chance to buzz about thine ears, 
 stand thy ground and hold thy hands : there's none will 
 sting thee if thou strike not first. If any do, she hath 
 honey in her bag will cure thee too. QUARLBS. 
 
 PREFACE. p. 9. 
 
 Oh for a quill plucked from a Seraph's wing ! 
 
 YOUNG. 
 
 INITIAL CHAPTER. p. 10. 
 
 "EJ u >>>> TO, T{r. HOMER.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 THE DOCTOR, 
 fe. 
 
 Eccoti il libra ; mettivi ben euro 
 Iddio f ajuti e dia buona ventura. 
 
 ORL. I.S.NAM. 
 
 CHAPTER I. P.I. p. 11. 
 
 THE SUBJECT? OF THIS HISTORY AT HOME AND AT 
 
 TEA. 
 
 If thou be a severe sour complexioned man then I here 
 disallow thee to be a competent judge. IZAAK WALTON. 
 
 CHAPTER II. P. I. p. 11. 
 
 WHEREOT CERTAIN QUESTIONS ARE PROPOSED CON- 
 CERNING TIME, PLACE AND PERSONS. 
 
 Quis? quid? ubi? quibus auxiliis? cur? quomodo? 
 quando? TECHNICAL VERSE. 
 
 CHAPTER III. P. I. p. 12. 
 
 WHOLESOME OBSERVATIONS UPON THE VANITY OF 
 
 FAME. 
 
 Whosoever shall address himself to write of matters of 
 instruction, or of any other argument of importance, it 
 behoveth that before he enter thereinto, he should reso- 
 lutely determine with himself in what order he will handle 
 the same ; so shall he best accomplish that he hath un- 
 dertaken, and inform the understanding, and help the 
 memory of the Reader. 
 
 GWILLIM'S DISPLAY OF HERALDRY. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. P. I. p. 13. 
 
 BIRTH AND PARENTAGE OF DR. DOVE, WITH THE 
 DESCRIPTION OF A YEOMAN'S HOUSE IN THE 
 WEST RIDING OF YORKSHIRE A HUNDRED YEARS 
 AGO. 
 
 Non possidentem mitlta vocaverit 
 Recte beatum ; rectius occupat 
 Nomen beati, qui Deorum 
 Muneribus sapienter uti, 
 Duramque collet pauperiem pati, 
 Pejusque letho flagitium timet. 
 
 HORACE, L. 4. Od. 9. 
 
 CHAPTER V. P. I. p. 15. 
 
 EXTENSION OF THE SCIENCE OF PHYSIOGNOMY, 
 WITH SOME REMARKS UPON THE PRACTICAL 
 USES OF CRANIOLOGY. 
 
 Hanc ergo scicntiam blonde excipiamus, hilariterque 
 
 amplectamur, ut vere nostram et de nobismet ipsis trac- 
 
 tantem ; quam qui nan amat, quam qui non ampltctitur, 
 
 nee phikxophiam amat, neque sues vilts discrimina curat. 
 
 BAPTISTA POHTA. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. P. I. p. 17. 
 
 A COLLECTION OF BOOKS NONE OF WHICH ARE 
 INCLUDED AMONGST THE PUBLICATIONS OF ANY 
 SOCIETY FOR THE PROMOTION OF KNOWLEDGE 
 RELIGIOUS OR PROFANE. HAPPINESS IN HUMBLE 
 LIFE. 
 
 Felix tile animi, divisque simillimus ipsis, 
 
 Quern non mordaci resplendent gloria fuco 
 
 Solicitat, non fastosi mala gaudia luxtts, 
 
 Sed tacilos sinit ire dies, et paupere cultu 
 
 Exigit innocuce tranquilla silentia vitte. POLITIAN. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. P. I. p. 20. 
 
 RUSTIC PHILOSOPHY. AN EXPERIMENT UPON 
 MOONSHINE. 
 
 Quien comiema enjuvenlud 
 A bicn obrar, 
 Senal es de no error, 
 En senetud. 
 PROVEBBIOS DEL MARQUES DE SANTILLANA. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. P.I. p. 23. 
 
 A KIND SCHOOLMASTER AND A HAPPY SCHOOL 
 BOY. 
 
 Though happily thou wilt say that wands be to be 
 wrought when they are green, lest they rather break than 
 bend when they be dry, yet know also that he that bendeth 
 a twig because he would see if it would bow by strength 
 may chance to have a crooked tree when he would have a 
 straight. EUPHULS. 
 
 LNTERCHAPTER I. p. 26. 
 
 REMARKS IN THE PRINTING OFFICE. THE AUTHOR 
 CONFESSES A DISPOSITION TO GARRULITY. PRO- 
 PRIETY OF PROVIDING CERTAIN CHAPTERS FOR 
 THE RECEPTION OF HIS EXTRANEOUS DIS- 
 COURSE. CHOICE OF AN APPELLATION FOR SUCH 
 CHAPTERS. 
 
 Perque vices aliquid, quod tempora longa virieri 
 Non sinat, in medium vacua* referamus ad aurei. 
 
 OVID.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. P.I. p. 26. 
 
 EXCEPTIONS TO ONE OF KING SOLOMON'S RULES 
 
 A WINTER'S EVENING AT DANIEL'S FIRESIDE. 
 
 These are my thoughts ; I might have spun them out 
 into a greater lengih, but I think a little plot of ground, 
 thick sown, is better than a great field which, for the most 
 part of it, lies fallow. NORRIS. 
 
 CHAPTER X. P. I. p. 27. 
 
 ONE WHO WAS NOT SO WISE AS HIS FRIENDS 
 COULD HAVE WISHED, AND YET QUITE AS HAPPY 
 AS IF HE HAD BEEN WISER. NEPOTISM NOT 
 CONFINED TO POPES. 
 
 There are of madmen as there are of tame, 
 
 All humoured not alike. Some 
 
 Apish and fantastic ; 
 
 And though 'twould grieve a soul to see God's image 
 
 So blemished and defaced, yet do they act 
 
 Such antic and such pretty lunacies, 
 
 That spite of sorrow, they will make you smile. 
 
 DEKKER. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. P. I. p. 29. 
 
 A WORD TO THE READER, SHOWING WHERE WE 
 ARE, AND HOW WE CAME HERE, AND WHERE- 
 FORE ; AND WHITHER WE ARE GOING. 
 
 'Tis my venture 
 On your retentive wisdom. 
 
 BEN JONIOM. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. P. I. p. 31. 
 
 A HISTORY NOTICED WHICH IS WRITTEN BACK- 
 WARD. THE CONFUSION OF TONGUES AN ESPE- 
 CIAL EVIL FOR SCHOOLBOYS. 
 
 For never in the long and tedious tract 
 Of slavish grammar was I made to plod ; 
 
 No tyranny of Rules my patience rackt ; 
 I served no prenticehood to any Rod ; 
 
 But in the freedom of the Practic way 
 
 Learnt to go right, even when I went astray. 
 
 DR. BEAUMONT. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. P. I. p. 33. 
 
 A DOUBT CONCERNING SCHOOL BOOKS, WHICH 
 WILL BE DEEMED HERETICAL: AND SOME AC- 
 COUNT OF AN EXTRAORDINARY SUBSTITUTE FOR 
 OVID OR VIRGIL. 
 
 They say it is an ill mason that refuseth any stone ; 
 and there is no knowledge but in a skilful hand serves, 
 either positively as it is, or else to illustrate some other 
 knowledge. HERBERT'S REMAINS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. P. I. p. 36. 
 
 AN OBJECTION ANSWERED. 
 
 Is this then your wonder ? 
 Nay then you shall under- 
 stand more of my skill. BEN JONSON. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. P. I. p. 37. 
 
 THE AUTHOR VENTURES AN OPINION AGAINST THE 
 PREVAILING WISDOM OF MAKING CHILDREN 
 PREMATURELY WISE. 
 
 Pray you, use your freedom : 
 And so far, if you please allow me mine, 
 To hear you only ; not to be compelled 
 To take your moral potions. MASSINGER. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. P. I. p. 38. 
 
 USE AND ABUSE OF STORIES IN REASONING, WITH 
 A WORD IN BEHALF OF CHIMNEY-SWEEPERS 
 AND IN REPROOF OF THE EARL OF LAUDER- 
 DALE. 
 
 My particular inclination moves me in controversy 
 especially to approve his choice that said, fortia mallem 
 quam fortnosa. Dr. JACKSON. 
 
 INTERCHAPTER II. p. 40. 
 
 ABALLIBOOZOBANGANORRIBO. 
 
 la 'I dico dunque e dicol che ognun m" ode. 
 
 BENEDETTO VARCHI. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. P. I. p. 42. 
 
 THE HAPPINESS OF HAVING A CATHOLIC TASTE. 
 
 There's no want of meat, Sir ; 
 Portly and curious viands are prepared 
 To please all kinds of appetites. MASSIXOF.R. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. P. I. p. 44. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELT- 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. P. I. p. 45. 
 
 A CONVERSATION WITH MISS GRAVEAIRS. 
 
 Operi stacepto inserviendum fnit ; so Jacobus Mycillui 
 pleadeth for himself in his translation of Liician's Dia- 
 logues, and so do I ; I must and will perform my task. 
 
 BURTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. P. I. p. 46. 
 
 HOW TO MAKE GOLD. 
 
 L' Alchimista non travaglia a voto ; 
 
 Ei cerca C oro, ei cerca C oro, to dico 
 
 Ch' ei cerca F oro ; e *' ei giungetse in porto 
 
 Fora ben per se ilesso e per altrui. 
 
 7," oro e somma posanza infra morfaii; 
 
 Chiedine a Cavalier, chiedine a Dame, 
 
 Chiedine a tvtto il Hondo. CHIABRERA. 
 
 CHAPTER XXL P.I. p. 49. 
 
 A DOUBT CONCERNING THE USES OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 El comienzo de salad 
 e* el saber, 
 distingtiir y conocer 
 qttal es virttid. 
 PROVERBIOS DEL MARQUES DE SANTILLAVA.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. P.I. p. 50. 
 
 TCII/ 5' diraiJ.iiQijfj.ivog. 
 
 Qfelice colui, che intender puote 
 Le cagiott de le cose di natura, 
 Che al piu di que' che vivon sono ignote ; 
 
 E solto it pit si mette ogni paitra 
 Defati, e de la morte, ch'i si trista, 
 Ne di vulgo gli cat, ne d'altro ha cur a. 
 
 TANSILLO. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. P.I. p. 52. 
 
 ROWLAND DIXON AND HIS COMPANY OF PUPPETS. 
 
 Alii se ve tan cficaz el llanto, 
 lasfabulas y historias retratadas, 
 que parece verdad, y es dulce cncanto. 
 * * * 
 
 Y para el vulgo rudo, que ignorante 
 aborrece el manjar costoso, guisa 
 el plato del gracioso extravagante ; 
 
 Con que les hartas de contento y risa, 
 guslando de mirar sayal grossero, 
 mas que sutil y Candida car/lisa. 
 
 JOSEPH ORTIZ DE VILLENA. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. P. I. p. 55. 
 
 QUACK AND NO QUACK, BEING AN ACCOUNT OF DR. 
 OKEEN AND HIS MAN KEMP. POPULAR MEDI- 
 CINE, HEBBAEY, THEORY OF SIGNATURES, WIL- 
 LIAM DOVE, JOHN WESLEY, AND BAXTER. 
 
 Hold thy hand ! health's dear maintainer ; 
 
 Life perchance may burn the stronger : 
 Having substance to maintain her 
 She untouched may last the longer. 
 When the Artist goes about 
 To redress her flame, I doubt 
 Oftentimes he snuffs it out. QUAKLES. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. P. I. p. 62. 
 Hiatus valde lacrymabilis. 
 
 Time flies away fast, 
 The while we never remember 
 
 How soon our life here 
 
 Grows old with the year 
 That dies with the next December ! 
 
 HEKRICK. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. P. I. p. 64. 
 
 DANIEL AT DONCASTER ; THE REASON WHY HE 
 WAS DESTINED FOR THE MEDICAL PROFESSION, 
 RATHER THAN HOLY ORDERS; AND SOME RE- 
 MARKS UPON SERMONS. 
 
 Je ne veux distimuler, amy Lectcur, que je n'aye bicn 
 priveu, et me tiens pour deiiement adverty, que ne puts 
 eviter la reprehension d'aucuns, et les calomnies de plu~ 
 tieurs, ausqucls c'est escrit desplaira du tout. 
 
 CHRISTOPLE DE HERICOURT. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. P. I. p. 67. 
 A PASSAGE IN PROCOPIUS IMPROVED. A STORY 
 CONCERNING URIM AND THUMMIM J AND THE 
 ELDER DANIEL'S OPINION OF THE PROFESSION 
 OF THE LAW. 
 
 Here is Domine Picklock, 
 My man of Law, sollicits all my causes, 
 Follows my business, makes and compounds my quarrels 
 Between my tenants and me ; sows all my strifes 
 And reaps them too, troubles the country for me, 
 And vexes any neighbour that I please, BEN JONSON. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. P. I. p. 69. 
 
 PETER HOPKINS. EFFECTS OF TIME AND CHANGE. 
 DESCRIPTION OF HIS DWELLING-HOUSE. 
 
 Combien de c/iangemens tiequis que suis au monde, 
 Qui n'est qu'un point du terns ! PASijuiEit. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. P. I. p. 70. 
 A HINT OF REMINISCENCE TO THE READER. THE 
 CLOCK OF ST. GEORGE'S. A WORD IN HONOUR 
 OF ARCHDEACON MARKHAM. 
 
 There is a ripe season for everything, and if you slip 
 that or anticipate it, you dim the grace of tiie matter be 
 it never so good. As we say by way of Proverb that an 
 hasty birth brings forth blind whelps, so a good tale 
 tumbled out before the time is ripe for it, is ungrateful to 
 the hearer. BISHOP HACKETT. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. P. 1. p. 72. 
 
 THE OLD BELLS RUNG TO A NEW TUNE. 
 
 If the bell have any sides the clapper will find 'em. 
 
 BEN JONSON. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. P. I. p. 75. 
 
 MORE CONCERNING BELLS. 
 
 Lord, ringing changes all our bells hath marr'd ; 
 
 Jangied they have and jarr'd 
 So long, they're out of tune, and out of frame ; 
 
 They seetn not now the same. 
 Put them in frame anew, and once begin 
 To tune them so, that they may chime all in. 
 
 HERBERT. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. P. I. p. 76. 
 
 AN INTRODUCTION TO CERTAIN PRELIMINARIES 
 ESSENTIAL TO THE PROGRESS OF THIS WORK. 
 
 Mas demos ya el assienlu en lo importnnte, 
 due el tiempo huye del mundo par la posla. 
 
 BALBUENA. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. P. I. p. 78. 
 
 DONCASTRIANA. THE RIVER DON. 
 
 Rivers from bubbling springs 
 Have rise at first ; and great from abject things. 
 
 MIDDLETON.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. P. I. p. 80. 
 
 MORAL, INTEREST OF TOPOGRAPHICAL WORKS. 
 LOCAL ATTACHMENT. 
 
 Let none our Author rudely blame 
 Who from the story has thus long digrest ; 
 
 But for his righteous pains may his fair fame 
 For ever travel, whilst his ashes rest. 
 
 SIR WILLIAM DAVKNANT. 
 
 IXTERCHAPTER III. p. 82. 
 
 THE AUTHOR QUESTIONS THE PROPRIETY OF PER- 
 SONIFYING CIRCUMSTANCE, DENIES THE UNITY 
 AND INDIVISIBILITY OF THE PUBLIC, AND MAY' 
 EVEN BE SUSPECTED OF DOUBTING ITS OMNI- 
 SCIENCE AND ITS INFALLIBILITY. 
 
 Haforse 
 
 Testa la plebe, ove si chiuda in vece 
 Si senno, ultra cfie nebbia ? o. forma voce 
 Chi sta pib saggia, che un bebU d'armento f 
 
 CHIABKEBA. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. P. I. p. 83. 
 
 DONCASTRIANA. POTTERIC CARR. SOMETHING 
 CONCERNING THE MEANS OF EMPLOYING THE 
 POOR, AND BETTERING THEIR CONDITION. 
 Why should I sowen draf out of my fist 
 When I may sowen wheat, if that me list ? 
 
 CHAUCER. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. P.I. p. 85. 
 
 KEMARKS ON AN OPINION OF MR. CRABBE's. TOPO- 
 GRAPHICAL POETRY. DRAYTON. 
 
 Do, pious marble, let thy readers know 
 
 What they and what their children owe 
 
 To Drayton's.name, whose sacred dust 
 
 We recommend unto thy trust. 
 
 Protect his memory, and preserve his story ; 
 
 Remain a lasting monument of his glory ; 
 
 And when thy ruins shall disclaim 
 
 To be the treasurer of his name, 
 
 His name that cannot fade shall be 
 
 An everlasting monument to thee. 
 
 EPITAPH IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. P. I. p. 87. 
 
 ANECDOTES OF PETER IIEYLYN AND LIGHTFOOT, 
 EXEMPLIFYING THAT GREAT KNOWLEDGE IS 
 NOT ALWAYS APPLICABLE TO LITTLE THINGS ; 
 AND THAT AS CHARITY BEGINS AT HOME, SO IT 
 MAY WITH EQUAL TRUTH SOMETIMES BE SAID 
 THAT KNOWLEDGE ENDS THERE. 
 
 A scholar in his study knows the stars, 
 
 Their motion and their influence, which are fix'd, 
 
 And which are wandering ; can decypher seas, 
 
 And give each several land his proper bounds : 
 
 But set him to the compass he's to seek, 
 
 Where a plain pilot can direct his course 
 
 From hence unto both the Indies. HBYWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. P.I. p. 90. 
 
 THE READER IS LED TO INFER THAT A TRAVELLER 
 WHO STOPS UPON THE WAY TO SKETCH, BOTA- 
 NISE, ENTOMOLOGISE OR MINERALOGISE, TRA- 
 VELS WITH MORE PLEASURE AND PROFIT TO 
 HIMSELF THAN IF HE WERE IN THE MAIL 
 COACH. 
 Non servio maieritE sed indulgeo ,- quam quo ducit te- 
 
 quendum est, rum quo invitat. SENECA. 
 
 INTERCHAPTER IV. p. 91. 
 
 ETYMOLOGICAL DISCOVERIES CONCERNING THE 
 REMAINS OF VARIOUS TRIBES OR FAMILIES 
 MENTIONED IN SCRIPTURAL HISTORY. 
 
 All things are big with jest ; nothing that's plain 
 But may be witty, if thou hast the vein. HERBERT. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. P. I. p. 92. 
 
 A CHAPTER FOR THE INFORMATION OF THOSE WHO 
 MAY VISIT DONCASTER, AND ESPECIALLY OF 
 THOSE WHO FREQUENT THE RACES THERE. 
 
 My good Lord, there is a Corporation, 
 
 A body, a kind of body. 
 
 MIDDLETON. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. P. I. p. 96. 
 
 REMARKS ON THE ART OF VERBOSITY. A RULE OF 
 COCCEIU8, AND ITS APPLICATION TO THE LAN- 
 GUAGE AND PRACTICE OF THE LAW. 
 
 If they which employ their labour and travail about the 
 public administration of justice, follow it only as a trade, 
 with unquenchable and unconscionable thirst of gain, 
 being not in heart persuaded that justice is God's own 
 work, and themselves his agents in this business, the 
 sentence, of right, God's own verdict, and themselves his 
 priests to deliver it ; formalities of justice do but serve to 
 smother right ; and that which was necessarily ordained 
 for the common good, is through shameful abuse made 
 the cause of common misery. HOOKER. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. P. I. p. 97. 
 
 REVENUE OF THE CORPORATION OF DONCASTER 
 WELL APPLIED. DONCASTER RACES. 
 
 Play not for gain but sport : who plays for more 
 Than he can lose with pleasure, stakes his heart ; 
 Perhaps his wife's too, and whom she hath bore. 
 
 HERBERT. 
 
 INTERCHAPTER V. p. 98. 
 
 WHEREIN THE AUTHOR MAKES KNOWN HIS GOOD 
 INTENTIONS TO ALL READERS, AND OFFERS 
 GOOD ADVICE TO SOME OF THEM. 
 
 I can write, and talk too, as soft as other men, with 
 submission to better judgements, and I leave it to you 
 Gentlemen. I am but one, and I always distrust myself. 
 I only hint my thoughts : You'U please to consider whether 
 you will not think that it may seem to deserve yiiur con- 
 sideration. This is a taking way of speaking. But much 
 good may do them that use it ! ASGILL.
 
 XX 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. P.I. p. 100. 
 
 DONCASTER CHURCH. THE RECTORIAL TITHES 
 SECURED BY ARCHBISHOP SHARP FOR HIS OWN 
 FAMILY. 
 
 Say ancient edifice, thyself with years 
 Grown grey, how long upon the hill has stood 
 Thy weather-braving tower, and silent mark'd 
 The human leaf in constant bud and fall ? 
 The generations of deciduous man, 
 How often hast thou seen them pass away ! 
 
 HUROIS. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. P.I. p. 101. 
 
 ANTIQUITIES OF DONCASTER. THE DEJE MATRES. 
 SAXON FONT. THE CASTLE. THE HELL CROSS. 
 
 yieux monuments, 
 
 Las, peit a peu cendre vous devenex. 
 
 Fable du peuple el publiques rapines ! 
 
 Et bien qu'au Temps pour un temps facent guerre 
 
 Les bastimens, si cst ce que le Tempt 
 
 Oeuvres el nomsfinable-inent atterre. 
 
 JOACHIM uu BELL\V. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. P. I. p. 103. 
 
 HISTORICAL CIRCUMSTANCES CONNECTED WITH 
 DONCASTER. THOMAS, EARL OF LANCASTER. 
 EDWARD IV. ASKE'S INSURRECTION. ILLUS- 
 TRIOUS VISITORS. JAMES I. BARNABEE. 
 CHARLES I. CHURCH LIBRARY. 
 
 They unto whom we shall appear tedious, are in no wise 
 injured by us, because it is in their own hands to spare 
 that labour which they are not willing to endure. 
 
 HOOKER. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. P. I. p. 105. 
 
 CONCERNING THE WORTHIES, OR GOOD MEN, WHO 
 WERE NATIVES OF DONCASTER, OR OTHERWISE 
 CONNECTED WITH THAT TOWN. 
 
 Vir bonus est quis ? TERENCE. 
 INTERCHAPTER VI. p. 106. 
 
 CONTINGENT CAUSES. PERSONAL CONSIDERATIONS 
 INDUCED BY REFLECTING ON THEM. THE 
 AUTHOR TREMBLES FOR THE PAST. 
 
 Vereis que no hay lazada desasida 
 
 De nudo y de pendencia soberana ; 
 Ni a poder trastornar la orden del cielo 
 
 Lasfuerzas Uegan, ni el saber del suelo. 
 
 BALBUENA. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. P. I. p. 107. 
 DANTEL DOVE'S ARRIVAL AT DONCASTER. THE 
 ORGAN IN ST. GEORGE'S CHURCH. THE PULPIT. 
 MRS. NEALE'S BENEFACTION. 
 
 Non ulla Musi's pagina gralior 
 Quam qiuc sever is ludicra jungcre 
 ffovit, fatigatamque nugis 
 
 Utilibus recrearcmentem. DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 CHAPTER XLYII. P. I. p. 111. 
 
 DONCASTRIANA. GUY ! S DEATH. SEARCH FOR HIS 
 TOMBSTONE IN INGf.KTON CHURCHYARD. 
 Go to the dull churchyard and see 
 Those hillocks of mortality, 
 Where proudest man is only found 
 By a small hillock on the ground. TIXALL POETRY. 
 
 CHAPTER XL VIII. P.I. p. 112. 
 A FATHER'S MISGIVINGS CONCERNING HIS SON'S 
 DESTINATION. PETER HOPKINs'S GENEROSITY. 
 DANIEL IS SENT ABROAD TO GRADUATE IN 
 MEDICINE. 
 
 Heaven is the magazine wherein He puts 
 Both good and evil ; Prayer's the key that shuts 
 And opens this great treasure : 'tis a key 
 Whose wards are Faith and Hopp and Charity. 
 Wouldst thou prevent a judgement due to sin ? 
 Turn but the key r.nd thou mayst lock it in. 
 Or wouldst thou have a blessing fall upon thee? 
 Open the door, and it will shower on thee ! 
 
 QUARLES. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. p. 113. 
 
 CONCERNING THE INTEREST WHICH DANIEL THE 
 ELDER TOOK EN THE DUTCH WAR, AND MORE 
 ESPECIALLY IN THE SIEGE AND PROVIDENTIAL 
 DELIVERY OF LEYDEN. 
 
 Glory to Thee in thine omnipotence, 
 
 O Lord who art our shield and our defence, 
 
 And dost dispense. 
 
 As seemeth best to thine unerring will, 
 
 (Which passeth mortal sense,) 
 
 The lot of Victory still ; 
 
 Edging sometimes with might the sword unjust ; 
 
 And bowing >o the dust, 
 
 The rightful cause, that so much seeming ill 
 
 May thine appointed purposes fulfil ; 
 
 Sometimes, (as in this late auspicious hour 
 
 For which our hymns we raise,) 
 
 Making the wicked feel thy present power ; 
 
 Glory to thee and praise, 
 
 Almighty God, by whom our strength was given ! 
 
 Glory to Thee, 6 Lord of Earth and Heaven ! 
 
 SOUTHEY. 
 
 CHAPTER L. P.I. p. 115. 
 
 VOYAGE TO ROTTERDAM AND LEYDEN. THE 
 AUTHOR CANNOT TARRY TO DESCRIBE THAT 
 CITY. WHAT HAPPENED THERE TO DANIEL 
 DOVE. 
 
 He took great content, exceeding delight in that his 
 voyage. As who doth not that shall attempt the like ? 
 For peregrination charms our senses with such unspeak- 
 able and sweet variety, that some count him unhappy 
 that never travelled, a kind of prisoner, and pity his case 
 that from his cradle to his old age he beholds the same 
 still ; still, still, the same, the same ! BURTON. 
 
 CHAPTER LI. P.I. p.117. 
 
 ARMS OF LEYDEN. DANIEL DOVE, M. D. A LOVE 
 
 STORY, STRANGE BUT TRUE. 
 Oye el extrano caso, advierte y siente ; 
 Suceso es ran, mas verdad ha sido. BALBUENA.
 
 CONTEXTS. 
 
 xxi 
 
 CHAPTER LII. P. I. p. 118. 
 
 SHOWING HOW THE YOUNG STUDENT FELL IN 
 LOVE AND HOW HE MADE THE BEST USE OF 
 HIS MISFORTUNE. 
 
 // creder, donne vagfie, i cortesia, 
 
 Quando colui che scrive o chefavella, 
 Possa essere sospetto di bugia, 
 
 Per dir qualcosa Iroppo rara e bella. 
 Dunque ctii ascolla questa istnria mea 
 
 E non la crertc frottola o novella 
 Ma cosa vera come ella e difatto, 
 Fa che di lui mi cfiiami soddisfatto 
 E pure che mi diate pienafede, 
 De la dubbiezza allrui poco mi cole. 
 
 RlCCIARDETTO. 
 
 CHAPTER LIII. P. I. p. 120. 
 
 OF THE VARIOUS WAYS OF GETTING IN LOVE. A 
 CHAPTER CONTAINING SOME USEFUL OBSER- 
 VATIONS, AND SOME BEAUTIFUL POETRY. 
 Let cavillers know, that as the Lord John answered the 
 Queen in that Italian Guazzo, an old, a grave discreet man 
 is fittest to discourse of love-matters ; because he hath 
 likely more experience, observed more, hath a more staid 
 judgement, can better discern, resolve, discuss, advise, 
 give better cautions and more solid precepts, better in- 
 form his auditors in such a subject, and by reason of his 
 riper years, sooner divert. BURTON. 
 
 CHAPTER LIV. P. I. p. 121. 
 
 MORE CONCERNING LOVE AND MARRIAGE, AND 
 
 MARRIAGE WITHOUT LOVE. 
 Nay Cupid, pitch thy trammel where thou please, 
 Thou canst not fail to catch such fish as these. 
 
 QUARLES. 
 
 CHAPTER LV. P. I. p. 128. 
 THE AUTHOR'S LAST VISIT TO DONCASTER. 
 
 Fuere quondam hcec sedfuere ; 
 
 Nunc ubi sint, rogitas ? Id annos 
 Scire has oportet scilicet. bonce 
 MUSK, O Lepores Charlies merce! 
 
 Ogauiiia offuscata nuilis 
 
 Litibusl O sine nube soles ! JANUS DOUZA. 
 
 CHAPTER LVI. P.I. p. 124. 
 
 A TRUCE WITH MELANCHOLY. GENTLEMEN SUCH 
 AS THEY WERE IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 
 1747. A HINT TO YOUNG LADIES CONCERNING 
 THEIR GREAT-GRANDMOTHERS. 
 
 Fashions that are now called new, 
 Have been worn by more than you ; 
 Elder times have used the same, 
 Though these new ones get the name. 
 
 MlDDLXTON. 
 
 CHAPTER LVII. P. I. p. 126. 
 
 AN ATTEMPT IS MADE TO REMOVE THE UN- 
 PLEASANT IMPRESSION PRODUCED UPON THE 
 LADIES BY THE DOCTOR'S TYE-WIG AND HIS 
 SUIT OF SNUFF-COLOURED DITTOS. 
 
 So full of shapes is fancy 
 That it alone is high fantastical. 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT. 
 
 CHAPTER LVIII. P. I. p. 12G. 
 
 CONCERNING THE PORTRAIT OF DR. DANIEL DOVE. 
 
 The sure traveller 
 Though he alight sometimes still goeth on. 
 
 HERBERT. 
 
 CHAPTER LIX. P. I. p. 128. 
 
 SHOWING WHAT THAT QUESTION WAS, WHICH 
 
 WAS ANSWERED BEFORE IT WAS ASKED. 
 Chacun a son stile ; le mien, comme vouz voyez, n'est 
 pas laconique. HE. DE SEVIGNK. 
 
 CHAPTER LX. P. I. p. 128. 
 
 SHOWING CAUSE WHY THE QUESTION WHICH 
 WAS NOT ASKED OUGHT TO BE ANSWERED. 
 
 Nay in troth I talk but coarsely, 
 But I hold it comfortable for the understanding. 
 
 BEAUMONT and FLETCHER. 
 
 CHAPTER LXI. P. I. p. 130. 
 
 WHEREIN THE QUESTION IS ANSWERED WHICH 
 
 OUGHT TO HAVE BEEN ASKED. 
 Ajutami, tu penna, et calamaio, 
 Ch,' to fid tra matto una materia asciutta. 
 
 MATTIO FRANZESI. 
 
 CHAPTER LXII. p. 132. 
 
 IN WHICH IS RELATED THE DISCOVERY OF A 
 CERTAIN PORTRAIT AT DONCASTER. 
 Call in the Barber ! If the tale be long 
 He'll cut it short, I trust. WIDDLETON. 
 
 CHAPTER LXIIL p. 133. 
 
 A DISCUSSION CONCERNING THE QUESTION LAST 
 
 PROPOSED. 
 
 Questo i bene un de' piu profondi passi 
 Che not habbiamo ancora oggi tentato ; 
 E non i mica da huomini bassi. 
 
 AGNUOLO FIRENZCOLA. 
 
 CHAPTER LXIV. p. 135. 
 
 DEFENCE OF PORTRAIT-PAINTING. A SYSTEM OF 
 MORAL COSMETICS RECOMMENDED TO THE 
 LADIES. GWILLIM. SIR T. LAWRENCE. GEORGE 
 WITHER. APPLICATION TO THE SUBJECT OF 
 THIS WORK. 
 
 Pingitur in tabulii formce peritura vcnustas, 
 
 Vivat ut in tabulis, quod peril in facie. OWEN. 
 
 CHAPTER LXV. p. 137. 
 
 SOCIETY OF A COUNTRY TOWN. SUCH A TOWN 
 A MORE FAVOURABLE HABITAT FOR SUCH A 
 PERSON AS DR. DOVE THAN LONDON WOULD 
 HAVE BEEN. 
 
 Be then thine own home, and in thyself dwell ; 
 Inn any where; 
 
 And seeing the snail, which every where doth roam, 
 Carrying his own home still, still is at home, 
 Follow (for he is easy paced) this snail ; 
 Be thine own Palace, or the World's thy jail. DONNE
 
 XX11 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER LXVI. p. 139. 
 
 MR. COPLEY OF NETHERHALL. SOCIETY AT HIS 
 HOUSE. DRUMMOND. BURGH, GRAY. MASON. 
 MILLER THE ORGANIST AND HISTORIAN OF 
 DONCASTER. HERSCHEL. 
 
 All worldly joys go less 
 To the one joy of doing kindnesses. 
 
 HERBERT. 
 
 CHAPTER LXVII. p. 140. 
 
 A MYTHOLOGICAL STORY MORALISED. 
 
 Ilfaut mettre let fables en presse pour en tirer quelque 
 sue de t'crite. GARASSE. 
 
 CHAPTER LXVIIL p. 144. 
 
 ECCENTRIC PERSONS, WHY APPARENTLY MORE 
 COMMON IN ENGLAND THAN IN OTHER COUN- 
 TRIES. HARRY BINGLEY. 
 
 Blest are those 
 
 Whose blood and judgement are so well commingled, 
 That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger 
 To sound what stop she please. HAMLET. 
 
 CHAPTER LXIX. p. 147. 
 
 A MUSICAL RECLUSE AND HIS SISTER. 
 
 Some proverb maker, I forget who, says, " God hath 
 given to some men wisdom and understanding, and to 
 others the art of playing on the fiddle." 
 
 Professor PARK'S Dogmas of the Constitution. 
 
 CHAPTER LXX. p. 148. 
 
 SHOWING THAT ANY HONEST OCCUPATION IS 
 BETTER THAN NONE, BUT THAT OCCUPATIONS 
 WHICH ARE DEEMED HONOURABLE ARE NOT 
 ALWAYS HONEST. 
 
 J'aipeine d- concevoir pourquoi le pl&part des homines 
 ont ttne it forte envie d'etre heureux, el une si grande 
 incapacite pour le devenir. 
 
 VOYAGES DE MILORD CETON. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXI. p. 150. 
 
 TRANSITION IN OUR NARRATIVE PREPARATORY 
 TO A CHANGE IN THE DOCTOR'S LIFE. A SAD 
 STORY SUPPRESSED. THE AUTHOR PROTESTS 
 AGAINST PLAYING WITH THE FEELINGS OF HIS 
 READERS. ALL ARE NOT MERRY THAT SEEM 
 MIRTHFUL. THE SCAFFOLD A STAGE. DON 
 RODRIGO CALDERON. THISTLEWOOD. THE 
 WORLD A MASQUERADE, BUT THE DOCTOR 
 ALWAYS IN HIS OWN CHARACTER. 
 
 This breaks no rule of order. 
 
 If order were infringed then should I flee 
 
 From my chief purpose, and my mark should miss. 
 
 Order is Nature's beauty, and the way 
 
 To Order is by rules that Art hath found. GWILLIM. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXII. p. 154. 
 
 IN WHICH THE FOURTH OF THE QUESTIONS PRO- 
 POSED IN CHAPTER II. P. I. IS BEGUN TO BE 
 ANSWERED ; SOME OBSERVATIONS UPON AN- 
 CESTRY ARE INTRODUCED, AND THE READER 
 IS INFORMED WHY THE AUTHOR DOES NOT 
 WEAR A CAP AND BELLS. 
 Boast not the titles of your ancestors, 
 Brave youths ! they're their possessions, none of yours. 
 When your own virtues equall'il have their names, 
 'Twill be but fair to lean upon their fames, 
 For they are strong supporters ; but till then 
 The greatest are but growing gentlemen. BEN JONSON. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIIL p. 156. 
 
 RASH MARRIAGES. AN EARLY WIDOWHOOD. AF- 
 FLICTION RENDERED A BLESSING TO THE SUF- 
 FERER ; AND TWO ORPHANS LEFT, THOUGH NOT 
 DESTITUTE, YET FRIENDLESS. 
 
 Love built a stately house; where Fortune came, 
 And spinning fancies, she was heard to say 
 
 That her fine cobwebs did support the frame ; 
 
 Whereas they were supported by the same. 
 But Wisdom quickly swept them all away. 
 
 HERBERT. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIV. p. 157. 
 
 A LADY DESCRIBED WHOSE SINGLE LIFE WAS 
 NO BLESSEDNESS EITHER TO HERSELF OR 
 OTHERS. A VERACIOUS EPITAPH AND AN AP- 
 PROPRIATE MONUMENT. 
 
 Beauty ! my Lord, 'tis the worst part of woman ! 
 
 A weak poor thing, assaulted every hour 
 
 By creeping minutes of defacing time ; 
 
 A superficies which each breath of care 
 
 Blasts off; and every humorous stream of grief 
 
 Which flows from forth these fountains of our eyes, 
 
 Washeth away, as rain doth winter's snow. GOFF. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXV. p. 159. 
 
 A SCENE WHICH WILL PUT SOME OF THOSE 
 READERS WHO HAVE BEEN MOST IMPATIENT 
 WITH THE AUTHOR, IN THE BEST HUMOUR 
 WITH HLM. 
 
 There is no argument of more antiquity and elegancy 
 than is the matter of Love ; for it seems to be as old as 
 the world, and to bear date from the first time that man 
 and woman was: therefore in this, as in the finest metal, 
 the freshest wits have in all ages shown their best work- 
 manship. ROBERT WILMOT. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXVL p. 160. 
 
 A STORY CONCERNING CUPID WHICH NOT ONE 
 READER IN TEN THOUSAND HAS EVER HEARD 
 BEFORE; A DEFENCE OF LOVE WHICH WILL 
 BE VERY SATISFACTORY TO THE LADIES. 
 
 They do lie, 
 
 Lie grossly who say Love is blind : by him 
 And heaven they lie ! he has a sight can pierce 
 Thro' ivory, as clear as it were horn, 
 And reach his object. BEAUMONT and FLETCHER.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 XXHl 
 
 CHAPTER LXXVIL p. 163. 
 
 MORE CONCERNING LOVE AND THE DREAM OF 
 LIFE. 
 
 Happy the bonds that hold ye ; 
 Sure they be sweeter far than liberty. 
 There is no blessedness but in such bondage ; 
 Happy that happy chain ; such links are heavenly. 
 BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. 
 
 INTERCHAPTER VII. p. 164. 
 
 OBSOLETE ANTICIPATIONS ; BEING A LEAF OUT OF 
 AN OLD ALMANACK, WHICH LIKE OTHER OLD 
 ALMANACKS THOUGH OUT OF DATE IS NOT OUT 
 
 OF USE. 
 
 If 
 
 You play before me, I shall often look on you, 
 
 I give you that warning before hand. 
 
 Take it not ill, my masters, I shall laugh at you, 
 
 And truly when I am least offended with you ; 
 
 It is my humour. MIDDLETON. 
 
 INTERCHAPTER VIII. p. 167. 
 
 A LEAF OUT OF THE NEW ALMANACK. THE AU- 
 THOR THINKS CONSIDERATELY OF HIS COMMEN- 
 TATORS ; RUMINATES; RELATES AN ANECDOTE 
 
 OF SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE ; QUOTES SOME 
 PYRAMIDAL STANZAS, WHICH ARE NOT THE 
 WORSE FOR THEIR ARCHITECTURE, AND DE- 
 LIVERS AN OPINION CONCERNING BURNS. 
 
 To smell a turf of fresh earth is wholesome for the 
 body; no less are thoughts of mortality cordial to the 
 Soul. " Earth thou art, to earih thou shall return." 
 
 FULLER. 
 
 IXTERCHAPTER IX. p. 169. 
 
 AN ILLUSTRATION FOR THE ASSISTANCE OF THE 
 COMMENTATORS DRAWN FROM THE HISTORY OF 
 THE KORAN. REAIARKS WHICH ARE NOT IN- 
 TENDED FOR MUSSELMEN, AND WHICH THE 
 MISSIONARIES IN THE MEDITERRANEAN ARE 
 ADVISED NOT TO TRANSLATE. 
 
 You will excuse me if I do not strictly confine myself to 
 narration ; but now and then intersperse such reflections 
 as may offer while I am writing. JOHN NEWTON. 
 
 IXTERCHAPTER X. p. 171. 
 
 MORE ON THE FOREGOING SUBJECT. ELUCIDA- 
 TIONS FROM HENRY MORE AND DR. WATTS. AN 
 INCIDENTAL OPINION UPON HORACE WALPOLE. 
 THE STREAM OF THOUGHT " FLOWETH AT ITS 
 OWN SWEET WILL." PICTURES AND BOOKS. A 
 SAYING OF MR. PITT'S CONCERNING WILBER- 
 FORCK. THE AUTHOR EXPLAINS IN WHAT 
 SENSE IT MIGHT BE SAID THAT HE SOMETIMES 
 SHOOTS WITH A LONG BOW. 
 
 Vorrei, disse il Signor (jaspnro Pallavicino, cJie voi 
 raxionassi un poco pin minutamente di questo, che non 
 fate ; che in vero vi tenete molto at gent-rale, el quasi ci 
 mostrute Ic cose per transito. IL CGKTEGIANO. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXVIII. p. 174. 
 
 AMATORY POETRY NOT ALWAYS OF THE WISEST 
 KIND. AN ATTEMPT TO CONVEY SOME NOTION 
 OF ITS QUANTITY. TRUE LOVE THOUGH NOT IN 
 EVERY CASE THE BEST POET, THE BEST MORA- 
 LIST ALWAYS. 
 
 El Amor es tan ingenioso, qur en mi opinion, maspoetas 
 ha hecho el solo, que la misma naturaleza. 
 
 PEREZ DE MO.NTALVAN. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIX. p. 177. 
 
 AN EARLY BEREAVEMENT. TRUE LOVE ITS OWN 
 COMFORTER. A LONELY FATHER AND AN ONLY 
 CHILD. 
 
 Read ye that run the aweful truth, 
 With which 1 charge my page ; 
 A worm is in the bud of youth, 
 And at the root of age. COWPER. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXX. p. 178. 
 
 OBSERVATIONS WHICH SHOW THAT WHATEVER 
 PRIDE MEN MAY TAKE IN THE APPELLATIONS 
 THEY ACQUIRE IN THEIR PROGRESS THROUGH 
 THE WORLD, THEIR DEAREST NAME DIES BEFORE 
 THEM. 
 
 Thus they who reach 
 
 Grey hairs, die piecemeal. SOCTHEY. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXI. p. 179. 
 
 A QUESTION WHETHER LOVE SHOULD BE FAITHFUL 
 TO THE DEAD. DOUBTS ADVANCED AND CASES 
 STATED. 
 
 even in spite of death, yet still my choice, 
 Oft with the inward all-beholding eye 
 
 1 think I see thee, and I hear thy voice ! 
 
 LORD STEBLINE. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXIL p. 181. 
 
 THE DOCTOR IS INTRODUCED, BY THE SMALL POX, 
 TO HIS FUTURE WIFE. 
 
 Long-waiting love doth entrance find 
 
 Into the slow-believing mind. SYDNEY GODOLPHIN. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXIII. p. 182. 
 
 THE AUTHOR REQUESTS THE READER NOT TO BE 
 IMPATIENT. SHOWS FROM LORD SHAFTESBURY 
 AT WHAT RATE A JUDICIOUS WRITER OUGHT TO 
 PROCEED. DISCLAIMS PROLIXITY FOR HIMSELF, 
 AND GIVES EXAMPLES OF IT IN A GERMAN PRO- 
 FESSOR, A JEWISH RABBI, AND TWO COUNSEL- 
 LORS, ENGLISH AND AMERICAN. 
 
 Pand. He that will have a cuke out of the wheat, must 
 tarry the grinding. 
 
 Troilus. Have I not tarried ? 
 
 Pand. Ay, the grinding ; but you must tarry the bolting. 
 
 Troilus. Have I not tarried ?
 
 XXIV 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Pand. Ay, the bolting ; but you must tarry the leaven- 
 ing. 
 
 Troilus. Still have I tarried. 
 
 Pand. Ay, to the leavening : but here's yet in the 
 word hereafter, the kneading, the making of the cake, the 
 heating of the oven, arid the baking. Nay, you must stay 
 the cooling too ; or you may chance to burn your lips. 
 THOILCS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXIV. p. 184. 
 
 A LOOP DROPPED IN THE FOREGOING CHAPTER 
 IS HERE TAKEN UP. 
 
 Enobarbus. Every time 
 
 Serves for the matter that is then born in it. 
 Lepidus. But small to greater matters must give way. 
 Enobarbus. Not if the email come first. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXV. p. 184. 
 
 THE DOCTOR'S CONTEMPORARIES AT LEYDEN. 
 EARLY FRIENDSHIP. COWPER's MELANCHOLY 
 OBSERVATION THAT GOOD DISPOSITIONS ARE 
 MORE LIKELY TO BE CORRUPTED THAN EVIL 
 ONES TO BE CORRECTED. YOUTHFUL CONNEC- 
 TIONS LOOSENED IN THE COMMON COURSE OF 
 THINGS. A FINE FRAGMENT BY WALTER 
 
 LANDOR. 
 
 Lass mich den Stunde gedenken, und jedes kleinercn 
 
 unstands. 
 
 Ach, wer ruft nicht so gern unwiederbringlicfies an ! 
 Jcnei sUsse Gedrange der leichtesten irdischen Tage, 
 
 Ach, wer sch'dtzt ihn genug, diesen vcreilenden Werlh ! 
 Kit in erscheinet et nun, duett ach! nicht kleinlich dem 
 
 Henen; 
 
 Mac/it die Liebe, die Kuntt,jegliches Heine doch gross. 
 
 GOETHE. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXVL p. 188. 
 
 PETER HOPKINS. REASONS FOR SUPPOSING THAT 
 HE WAS AS GOOD A PRACTITIONER AS ANY IN 
 ENGLAND; THOUGH NOT THE BEST. THE 
 FITTEST 3IASTER FOR DANIEL DOVE. HIS SKILL 
 IN ASTROLOGY. 
 
 Que sea Medico mas grave 
 Quien mas aforismos sate, 
 
 Ken puede ser. 
 Mas que no sea mas ezperto 
 El que mas huviere muerto, 
 
 No puede ser. GONGORA. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXVIL p. 191. 
 
 ASTROLOGY. ALMANACKS. PRISCILLIANI8M RE- 
 TAINED IN THEM TO THIS TTME. 
 
 I wander 'twixt the poles 
 And heavenly hinges, 'mongst eccentricals, 
 Centers, concentricks, circles and epicycles. 
 
 ALBVMAZAR. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXVIII. p. 193. 
 
 AN INCIDENT WHICH BRINGS THE AUTHOR INTO A 
 FORTUITOUS RESEMBLANCE WITH THE PATRI- 
 ARCH OF THE PREDICANT FRIARS. DIFFERENCES 
 BETWEEN THE FACT AND THE FABLE ; AND AN 
 APPLICATION WHICH, UNLIKE THOSE THAT ARE 
 USUALLY APPENDED TO ESOP'S FABLES, THE 
 READER IS LIKELY NEITHEP. TO SKIP NOR TO 
 FORGET. 
 
 Dire aqui una maldad grande del Demonio. 
 
 PEDRO DE CIECA DE LEON. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXIX. p. 194. 
 
 A CHAPTER CHARACTERISTIC OF FRENCH ANTIQUA- 
 RIES, FRENCH LADIES, FRENCH LAWYERS, 
 FRENCH JUDGES, FRENCH LITERATURE, AND 
 FRENCHXESS IN GENERAL. 
 Quid dt: pulicibui ? vita; salientia puncta. COWLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER XC. p. 199. 
 
 WHEREIN THE CURIOUS READER MAY FIND SOME 
 THINGS WHICH HE IS NOT LOOKING FOR, AND 
 WHICH THE INCURIOUS ONE MAY SKIP IF HE 
 PLEASES. 
 Voulant doncques satisfaire a la curiosite de touts bans 
 
 cumpagnons,fay revolve toutes les Pantarches des Cieux, 
 
 cnlcule les quadrats de la Lune, crochete lout ce que 
 jamais penserent touts les Astrophiles, Hypernephelistes, 
 
 Anemophylaces, Uranupetes et Ombropftores. RABELAIS. 
 
 CHAPTER XCI. p. 202. 
 
 THE AUTHOR DISPLAYS A LITTLE MORE OF SUCH 
 READING AS IS SELDOM READ, AND SHOWS THAT 
 LORD BYRON AND AN ESSEX WIDOW DIFFERED 
 IN OPINION CONCERNING FRIDAY. 
 
 Sifavois disperse cecien divers e ndroits de man ovvrage, 
 j'aurois evile la censure de ceux qui appclleront ce chnpitre 
 un fatrat de petit recucils. Mais comme je cherche la 
 commodite de m, s lecleurs plulot que la mienne, je veux 
 bien au depens de cette censure, leur epargner la peine de 
 rassembler ce que j'aurois dispen&. BAYLE. 
 
 CHAPTER XCIL p. 206. 
 
 CONCERNING PETER HOPKINS AND THE INFLUENCE 
 OF THE MOON AND TIDES UPON THE HUMAN 
 BODY. A CHAPTER WHICH SOME PERSONS MAY 
 DEEM MORE CURIOUS THAN DULL, AND OTHERS 
 MORE DULL THAN CURIOUS. 
 
 A man that travelleth to the most desirable home, hath 
 a habit of desire to it all the way ; but his present business 
 is his travel; and horse, and company, and inns, and ways, 
 and weariness, &c., may take up more of his sensible 
 thoughts, and of his talk and action, than his home. 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 CHAPTER XCIIL p. 210. 
 
 REMARKS OF AN IMPATIENT READER ANTICIPATED 
 AND ANSWERED. 
 
 T fi 
 Ov 
 
 anj, 
 
 auxi-r' oi&i* ; SOPHOCLES.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XCIV. p. 213. 
 
 THE AUTHOR DISCOVERS CERTAIN MUSICAL, COR- 
 RESPONDENCIES TO THESE HIS LUCUBRATIONS. 
 And music mild I learn 'd that tells 
 Tune, time and measure to the song. HIGGINS. 
 
 CHAPTER XCV. p. 214. 
 
 WHKREIN MENTION IS MADE OF LORD BYRON, 
 RONSAHD, RABBI KAPOL AND CO. IT IS SUG- 
 GESTED THAT A MODE OP READING THE STARS 
 HAS BEEN APPLIED TO THE RECOVERY OF 
 OBLITERATED ROMAN INSCRIPTIONS ; AND IT IS 
 SHOWN THAT A MATHEMATICIAN MAY REASON 
 MATHEMATICALLY, AND YET LIKE A FOOL. 
 
 Thus may ye behold 
 This man is very bold, 
 And in his learning old 
 Intendeth for to sit. 
 I blame him not a whit ; 
 For it would vex his wit, 
 And clean against his earning 
 To follow such learning 
 As now-a-days is taught. 
 
 DOCTOCR DOUBLE- ALE. 
 
 CHAPTER XCVL p. 217. 
 A MUSICIAN'S WISH EXCITED BY HERSCHEL'S 
 TELESCOPE. SYMPATHY BETWEEN PETER HOP- 
 KINS AND HIS PUPIL. INDIFFERENTISM USEFUL 
 IN ORDINARY POLITICS, BUT DANGEROUS IN 
 RELIGION. 
 
 2foi intendiamo parlare alls cose che ulile sono alia 
 umana vita, quanta per noslro intendimento si potra in 
 questa parts comprendere ; e sopra quelle particelle die 
 dctlo avemo di comporre. BUSONE DA GUBBIO. 
 
 CHAPTER XCVIL p. 220. 
 
 MR. BACON'S PARSONAGE. CHRISTIAN RESIGNA- 
 TION. TIME AND CHANGE. W1LKXE AND THE 
 MONK IN THE ESCURIAL. 
 
 The idea of her life shall sweetly creep 
 
 Into his study of imagination ; 
 
 And every lovely organ of her life 
 
 Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, 
 
 More moving delicate, and full of life, 
 
 Into the eye and prospect of his soul, 
 
 Than when she lived indeed. SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 CHAPTER XCVIII. p. 222. 
 
 CHRISTIAN CONSOLATION. OPINIONS CONCERNING 
 THE SPIRITS OF THE DEAD. 
 
 The voice which 1 did more esteem 
 Than music in her sweetest key ; 
 
 Those eyes which unto me did seem 
 More comfortable than the day ; 
 
 Those now by me, as they have b^en, 
 
 Shall never more be heard, or seen ; 
 
 But what I once enjoyed in them, 
 
 Shall seem hereafter as a dream. 
 
 All earthly comforts vanish thus ; 
 
 So little hold of them have we, 
 That we from them, or they from us, 
 
 May in a moment ravished be. 
 Yet we are neither just nor wise, 
 If present mercies we despise ; 
 Or mind not how there may be made 
 A thankful use of what we had. WITHER. 
 
 CHAPTER XCIX. p. 224. 
 
 A COUNTRY PARISH. SOME WHOLESOME EXTRACTS, 
 SOME TRUE ANECDOTES, AND SOME USEFUL 
 HINTS, WHICH WILL NOT BE TAKEN BY THOSE 
 WHO NEED THEM MOST. 
 
 Non e iticonvcniente, che delie cose delettabili alcune ne 
 sieno utili, cost come delt utili molte ne sono delettabili, 
 el in ttitte due alcune si truovano honeste. 
 
 LEONE MEDICO (HEBREO). 
 
 .CHAPTER C. p. 227. 
 
 SHOWING HOW THE VICAR DEALT WITH THE 
 JUVENILE PART OF HIS FLOCK; AND HOW HE 
 WAS OF OPINION THAT THE MORE PLEASANT 
 THE WAY IS WHICH CHILDREN ARE TRAINED 
 UP TO GO CAN BE MADE FOR THEM, THE LESS 
 LIKELY THEY WILL BE TO DEPART FROM IT. 
 
 Sweet were the sauce would please each kind of taste, 
 The life, likewise, were pure that never swerved ; 
 
 For spiteful tongues, in cankered stomachs placed, 
 Deem worst of things which best, percase, deserved. 
 
 But what for that '< This medicine may suffice, 
 
 To scorn the rest, and seek to please the wise. 
 
 SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 
 
 CHAPTER CI. p. 229. 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF A RETIRED TOBACCONIST AND 
 HIS FAMILY. 
 
 Nonfumum exjulgore, sed exfumo dare lucent. 
 
 HORACE. 
 
 LNTERCHAPTER XI. p. 231. 
 
 ADVICE TO CERTAIN READERS INTENDED TO AS- 
 SIST THEIR DIGESTION OF THESE VOLUMES. 
 
 Take this in good part, whatsoever thou be, 
 And wish me no worse than I wish unto thee. 
 
 TUSSER. 
 
 CHAPTER CIL p. 232. 
 
 MORE CONCERNING THE AFORESAID TOBACCONIST. 
 
 I doubt nothing at all but that you shall like the man 
 every day better than other ; for verily I think he lacketh 
 not of those qualities which should become any honest 
 man to have, over and besides the gift of nature wherewith 
 God hath above the common rate endued him. 
 
 ARCHBISHOP CHANMER.
 
 XXVI 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER CIII. p. 236. 
 
 A FEW PARTICULARS CONCERNING NO. 113. 
 BISHOPSGATE STREET WITHIN ; AND OP THE 
 FAMILY AT THAXTED GRANGE. 
 
 Opinion is the rate of things, 
 From hence our peace doth flow ; 
 
 I have a better fate than kings, 
 Because 1 think it so. KATHARINB PHILIPS. 
 
 CHAPTER CIV. p. 239. 
 
 A REMARKABLE EXAMPLE, SHOWING THAT A 
 AVISE MAN, WHEN HE RISES IN THE MORNING, 
 LITTLE KNOWS WHAT HE MAY DO BEFOP.E 
 
 NIGHT. 
 
 Now I love, 
 
 And so as in so short a time I may ; 
 Yet so as time shall never break that so, 
 And therefore so accept of Elino- 
 
 ROBERT GREENE. 
 
 CHAPTER CV. p. 242. 
 
 A WORD OF NOBS, AND AN ALLUSION TO C.ESAR. 
 SOME CIRCUMSTANCES RELATING TO THE DOC- 
 TOR'S SECOND LOVE, WHEREBY THOSE OF HIS 
 THIRD AND LAST ARE ACCOUNTED FOR. 
 
 Un mal que se entra par media los ojos, 
 
 Y va se derecho hasla el corazon ; 
 
 Alii en ser llegado se lorna ajicion, 
 Y da mil pesares, plnzeres y enojos; 
 Causa alt-grins, tristezas, antojos ; 
 
 Haze Uorar, y haze reir. 
 
 Haze cantor, y haze planir ; 
 Da pensamientos dos mil a manojos. 
 
 QUESTION DE AMOR. 
 
 INTERCHAPTER XII. p. 245. 
 
 THE AUTHOR REGRETS THAT HE CANNOT MAKE 
 HIMSELF KNOWN TO CERTAIN READERS ; STATES 
 THE POSSIBLE REASONS FOR HIS SECRESY ; 
 MAKES NO USE IN SO DOING OF THE LICENCE 
 WHICH HE SEEMS TO TAKE OUT IN HIS MOTTO ; 
 AND STATING THE PRETENCES WHICH HE AD- 
 VANCES FOR HIS WORK, DISCLAIMING THE 
 WHILE ALL MERIT FOR HIMSELF, MODESTLY 
 PRESENTS THEM UNDER A GRECIAN VEIL. 
 
 "EitBa yaj n Sli fylvSof \iyiadau fayicrOa. 
 
 HERODOTUS. 
 
 INTERCHAPTER XIII. p. 247. 
 
 A PEEP FROM BEHIND THE CURTAIN. 
 
 Ha, ha. ha, now ye will make me to smile, 
 
 To see if 1 can all men beguile. 
 
 Ha, my name, my name would ye so fain know ? 
 
 Yea, I wis, shall ye, and that with all speed. 
 I have forgot it, therefore 1 cannot show. 
 
 A, a, now I have it ! I have it indeed ' 
 My name is Ambidexter, I signify one 
 
 That with both hands finely tan play. 
 
 KING CAMBYSES. 
 
 CHAPTER CVL p. 249. 
 
 THE AUTHOR APOSTROPHISES SOME OF HIS FAIR 
 READERS; LOOKS FARTHER THAN THEY ARE 
 LIKELY TO DO, AND GIVES THEM A JUST THOUGH 
 MELANCHOLY EXHORTATION TO BE CHEERFUL 
 WHILE THEY SIAY. 
 
 Hark how the birds do sing, 
 
 And woods do ring ! 
 All creatures have their joy, and Man hath his : 
 
 Yet if we rightly measure, 
 
 Man's joy and pleasure 
 Rather hereafter, than in present ia. HERBERT. 
 
 CHAPTER CVII p. 250. 
 
 THE AUTHOR INTRODUCES HIS READERS TO A RE- 
 TIRED DUCHESS, AND SUGGESTS A PARALLEL 
 BETWEEN HER GRACE AND THE RETIRED TO- 
 BACCONIST. 
 
 In midst of plenty only to embrace 
 Calm patience, is not worthy of your praise ; 
 
 But he that can look sorrow in the face 
 And not be daunted, he deserves the bays. 
 
 This is prosperity, where'er we find 
 
 A heavenly solace in an earthly mind. 
 
 Hi'GH CROMPTON. 
 
 CHAPTER CYIIL p.256. 
 
 PERCY LODGE. THAXTED GRANGE. RAPIN THE 
 JESUIT AND SIR THOMAS BKOWNE. 
 
 It seems that you take pleasure in these walks, 
 
 Sir. 
 Cleanthes. Contemplative content I do, my Lord ; 
 
 They bring into my mind oft meditations 
 So sweetly precious, that in the parting 
 1 find a shower of grace upon my cheeks, 
 They take their leave so feelingly. 
 
 MASSINGER. 
 
 INTERCHAPTER XIV. p. 259. 
 
 CONCERNING INTERCHAPTERS. 
 
 If we present a mingle-mangle, our fault is to be ex- 
 cused, because the whole world is become a hodge-podge. 
 
 LYLY. 
 
 CHAPTER CIX. p.263. 
 
 INCIDENTAL MENTION OF HAMMOND, SIR EDMUND 
 KING, JOANNA BAILLIE, SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE, 
 AND MR. THOMAS PEREGRINE COUHTENAY. 
 PETER COLLINSON AN ACQUAINTANCE OF MB. 
 ALLISON'S. HOLIDAYS AT THAXTED GRANGE. 
 
 And sure there seem of human kind 
 
 Some born to shun the solemn strife ; 
 Some for amusive tasks design'd 
 
 To soothe the certain ills of life, 
 Grace its lone vales with many a budding rose, 
 
 New founts of bliss disclose, 
 Call forth refreshing shades and decorate repose. 
 
 SHENSTONB.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 XXVll 
 
 CHAPTER CX. p. 267. 
 
 A TRANSITIONAL CHAPTER, WHEREIN THE AUTHOR 
 COMPARES HIS BOOK TO AN OMNIBUS AND A 
 SHIP, QUOTES SHAKESPEARE, MARCO ANTONIO 
 DE CAM OS, QUARIJ5S, SPENSER, AND SOMEBODY 
 ELSE, AND INTRODUCES HIS READERS TO SOME 
 OF THE HEATHEN GODS, WITH WHOM PERHAPS 
 THEY WERE NOT ACQUAINTED BEFORE. 
 
 We are not to grudge such interstitial and transitional 
 matter as may promote an easy connection of parts and 
 an elastic separation of them, and keep the reader's mind 
 upon springs as it were. HENRY TAYLOR'S Statesman. 
 
 CHAPTER CXI. p. 268. 
 
 CONCERNING MAGAZINES, AND THE FORMER AND 
 PRESENT RACE OF ALPHABET-MEN. 
 
 Altrigli han messo name Santa Croce, 
 Altri lo chiaman I' A. B. C. guaslando 
 La tniiura, gl' accenti, et la $ua voce. SANSOVINO. 
 
 CHAPTER CXII. p. 270. 
 
 HUNTING IN AN EASY CHAIR. THE DOCTOR'S 
 BOOKS. 
 
 That place that does contain 
 My books, the best companions, is to me 
 A glorious court, where hourly I converse 
 With the old sages and philosophers ; 
 And sometimes for variety I confer 
 With Kings and Emperors, and weigh their counsels, 
 Calling their victories, if unjustly got, 
 Unto a strict account, and in my fancy 
 Deface their ill-placed statues. 
 
 BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. 
 
 CHAPTER CXIIL p. 271. 
 
 THOMAS GENT AND ALICE GUY, A TRUE TALE, 
 SHOWING THAT A WOMAN'S CONSTANCY WILL 
 NOT ALWAYS HOLD OUT LONGER THAN TROY 
 TOWN, AND YET THE WOMAN MAY NOT BE THE 
 PABTY WHO IS MOST IN FAULT. 
 
 lo dfco, non dimando 
 Quel che tu nuoi udir, perch' io I' ho visto 
 Ove s' appunta ogtii ubi, e ogni quando. DANTE. 
 
 CHAPTER CXIV. p. 276. 
 
 THE AUTHOR HINTS AT CERTAIN CIRCUMSTANCES 
 IN THE LIFE OF THOMAS GENT ON WHICH HE 
 DOES NOT THINK IT NECESSARY TO DWELL. 
 
 Round white stones will serve they say, 
 
 As well as eggs, to make hens lay. BUTLER. 
 
 CHAPTER CXV. p. 279. 
 
 THE READER IS REMINDED OF PRINCE ABINO 
 JA3SIMA AND THE FOX-LADY. GENT NOT LIKE 
 JOB, NOR MRS. GENT LIKE JOB'S WIFE. 
 
 A me parrebbe a la storia far tor to, 
 
 S' io non aggiwigo qualche codicillo ; 
 Accid che ognun chi Ifgge, benedica 
 L' ultimo fffMo dc la miafatica. Pixel. 
 
 CHAPTER CXVL p. 281. 
 
 DR. SOUTHEY. JOHN BUNYAN. BARTHOLOMEWS 
 SCHER.EUS. TERTULLJAN. DOMENICO BERNINO. 
 PETRARCH. JEREMY TAYLOR. HARTLEY COLE- 
 RIDGE. DIEGO DE SAN PEDRO, AND ADAM 
 LITTLETON. 
 
 Black spirits and white, red spirits and gray ; 
 Mingle, mingle, mingle, you that mingle may. 
 
 Titty, Tiffin, keep it stiff in ! 
 
 Firedrake, Puckey, make it lucky ! 
 
 Liard, Robin, you must bob in ! 
 Round, around, around, about, about ! 
 All good come running in, all ill keep out. 
 
 MIDDLETON. 
 
 CHAPTER CXVIL p.284 
 
 CONCERNING JOB'S WIFE. 
 
 This insertion is somewhat long, and utterly imper- 
 tinent to the principal matter, and makes a great gap in 
 the tale ; nevertheless is no disgrace, but rather a beauty 
 and to very good purpose. TOTTENHAM. 
 
 CHAPTER CXVIII. p.288. 
 
 POINTS OF SIMILITUDE AND DISSIMILITUDE BE- 
 TWEEN SIR THOMAS BROWNE AND DOCTOB 
 DOVE. 
 
 But in these serious works designed 
 
 To mend the morals of mankind, 
 
 We must for ever be disgraced 
 
 With all the nicer sons of taste, 
 
 If once the shadow to pursue 
 
 We let the substance out of view. 
 
 Our means must uniformly tend 
 
 In due proportion to their end, 
 
 And every passage aptly join 
 
 To bring about the one design. CHURCHILL 
 
 LNTERCHAPTER XV. p. 290. 
 
 THE AUTHOR RECOMMENDS A CERTAIN WELL- 
 KNOWN CHARACTER AS A CANDIDATE FOR 
 HONOURS, BOTH ON THE SCORE OF HIS FAMILY 
 AND HIS DESERTS. HE NOTICES ALSO OTHER 
 PERSONS WHO HAVE SIMILAR CLAIMS. 
 
 Thoricht, auf Bessrung der Thoren zu harren ! 
 
 Kinder der klugheit, o habet die Narren 
 
 Eben zum Narren auch, tcie tich't gehort. GOETHE. 
 
 CHAPTER CXIX. p. 292. 
 
 THE DOCTOR IN HIS CURE. IRRELIGION THE RE- 
 PROACH OF HIS PROFESSION. 
 Virtue, and that part of philosophy 
 Will I apply, that treats of happiness 
 By virtue specially to be achieved. 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 CHAPTER CXX. p. 294. 
 
 EFFECT OF MEDICAL STUDIES ON DIFFERENT DIS- 
 POSITIONS. JEW PHYSICIANS, ESTIMATION AND 
 ODIUM IN WHICH THEY WERE HELD. 
 Conjiesso la digression , masesfacilal que no quisiere 
 leerla, passar al capitulo tiguienle, y esta advertencia 
 lirva dc disculpa. Luis MUNOZ.
 
 xxvm 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXL p. 297. 
 
 WHEREIN IT APPEARS THAT SANCHO'S PHYSICIAN 
 AT BARATARIA ACTED ACCORDING TO PRECE- 
 DENTS AND PRESCRIBED LAWS. 
 
 Letter, tu vedi ben com' io innalxo 
 
 La mia materia, eperd con piu arte 
 
 Kon ti maravigliar i' f la rincalzo. DANTE. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXII. p.300. 
 
 A CHAPTER WHEREIN STUDENTS IN SURGERY MAY 
 FIND SOME FACTS WHICH WERE NEW TO THEM 
 IN THE HISTORY OF THEIR OWN PROFESSION. 
 
 If I have more to spin 
 The wheel shall g >. 
 
 HERBERT. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXIIL p. 303. 
 
 SOME ALLUSION TO, AND SOME USE OF THE FIGURE 
 OF SPEECH CALLED PARENTHESIS. 
 
 fecrirai id met pensees tans ordre, et non pas peut- 
 gtre dam une confusion sans dessein ; c'est If veritable 
 ordre, et qui marquera tovjours man objetpar le desordre 
 meme. PASCAL. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXIV. p.306. 
 
 THE AUTHOR MORALISES UPON THE VANITY OF 
 FAME ; AND WISHES THAT HE HAD BOSWELLISED 
 WHILE IT WAS IN HIS POWER TO HAVS DONE SO. 
 
 Mucho tengo que llorar, 
 Mucho tengo que reir. 
 
 GONGORA. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXV. p. 309. 
 
 FAME IN THE BOROUGH ROAD. THE AUTHOR 
 DANIELISES. 
 
 Due, Puma, 
 
 Due me insolenti tramite ; devius 
 Tentabo inaccessos profanis 
 Invidite pedibus recessus. 
 
 VINCENT BOURNE. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXVL p. 313. 
 
 MB. BAXTER'S OFFICES. MILLER'S CHARACTER OF 
 MASON ; WITH A FEW REMARKS IN VINDICATION 
 OF GRAY'S FRIEND AND THE DOCTOR'S AC- 
 QUAINTANCE. 
 
 Te snnare quis mihi 
 
 Genique vim dabil tui? 
 Stylo quis tequor fiocce arare chartettm, 
 
 Et area per papyrirut 
 Satu loquace seminare literal f JANUS DODSA. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXVIL p. 318. 
 THE DOCTOR'S THEORY OF PROGRESSIVE EXIST- 
 ENCE. 
 
 Quam multie pecudes humano in corpore virunt ! 
 PALISGENIUS. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXVIII. p. 320. 
 
 ELUCIDATIONS OF THE COLUMBIAN THEORY. 
 Thou almost makest me waver in my faith, 
 To hold opinion with Pythagoras, 
 That souls of animals infuse themselves 
 Into the trunks of men. MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXIX. p. 326. 
 
 WHEREIN THE AUTHOR SPEAKS OF A TRAGEDY 
 FOR THE LADIES, AND INTRODUCES ONE OF 
 WILLIAM DOVE'S STORIES FOR CHILDREN. 
 
 Ydondesobre todo de sa dueTio 
 
 El gran tesoro y el caudal se infiere, 
 Es que al grande, al mediano, y al pequcno, 
 
 Todo sedade balde d quien io quiere. BALBUENA. 
 
 THE STORY OF THE THREE BEARS. 
 
 p. 327. 
 
 A tale which may content the minds 
 Of learned men and grave philosophers. GASCOYNE. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXX. p. 330. 
 
 CHILDREN AND KITTENS. APHORISMS ASCRIBED TO 
 THE LAUREATE, DR. SOUTHEY. MORE COLUM- 
 BIAN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Oh ! if in after life we could but gather 
 The very refuse of our youthful hours ! 
 
 CHARLES LLOYD. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXXI. p. 331. 
 
 THE DOCTOR ABSTAINS FROM SPECULATING ON 
 PERILOUS SUBJECTS. A STORY OF ST. AXSELM. 
 
 This 6eld is so spacious, that it were easy for a man to 
 lose himself in it ; and if I should spend all my pilgrimage 
 in this walk, my time would sooner end than my way. 
 
 BISHOP HALL. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXXIL p. 333. 
 
 DR. CADOGAN. A REMARKABLE CASE OF HEREDI- 
 TARY LONGEVITY. REMARKS ON THE ORDINARY 
 TERM OF HUMAN LIFE. 
 I,.ve well, and then how soon so e'er thou die, 
 Thou art of age to claim eternity. RANDOLPH. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXXIII. p.334 
 
 MORE THOUGHTS CONCERNING LIFE, DEATH AND 
 
 IMMORTALITY. 
 
 Clericus es ? legito hiec. Laicus ? legito ista libenter. 
 Crede mihi, invenies hie quod uterquc volet. 
 
 D. Uu.-TR. MED. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXXTV. p. 337. 
 
 A TRANSITION, AN ANECDOTE, AN APOSTROPHE, 
 AND A PUN, PUNNET, OR PUNDIGRION. 
 
 Esl brevitate opus, ut currat sententia, n< u se 
 Impediatverbii lassos onerantibus aures ; 
 Etsermone opus est, modo tristi, stcpejocoso. 
 
 HORACE.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXXV. p. 338. 
 
 REGINALD HEBER. A MISTAKE OBVIATED, WHICH 
 
 MIGHT OTHERWISE EASILY BE MADE. 
 Perhaps some Gull, as witty as a Goose, 
 
 Says with a coy skew look, " it's pretty, pretty ! 
 But yet that so much wit he should di-'pose 
 For so small purpose, faith " saith he, " 'tis pity ! " 
 
 DAVIES OP HEREFORD- 
 
 CHAPTER CXXXVI. p. 339. 
 
 THE PEDIGREE AND BIRTH OF NOBS, GIVEN IN 
 REPLY TO THE FIRST QUERY IN THE SECOND 
 CHAPTER P. I. 
 
 Theo. Look to my Horse, I pray you, well. 
 Diego. He shall, Sir. 
 
 Inc. Oh ! how beneath his rank and call was that now ! 
 Your Horse shall be entreated as becomes 
 A Horse of fashion, and his inches. 
 
 BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. 
 
 IXTERCHAPTER XVI. p. 340. 
 
 THE AUTHOR RELATES SOME ANECDOTES, REFERS 
 TO AN OPINION EXPRESSED BY A CRITIC ON THE 
 PRESENT OPUS, AND DESCANTS THEREON. 
 Every man can say B to a battledore, and write in praise 
 of virtue and the seven liberal sciences ; thresh corn out 
 of full sheaves, and fetch water out of the Thames. But 
 out of dry stubble to make an after-harvest, and a plenti- 
 ful crop without sowing, and wring juice out of a flint, 
 that is Pierce a God's name, and the right trick of a 
 workman. NASH. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXXVII. p.345. 
 
 DIFFERENCE OF OPINION BETWEEN THE DOCTOR 
 AND NICHOLAS CONCERNING THE HIPPOGONY, 
 OR ORIGIN OF THE FOAL DROPPED IN THE 
 PRECEDING CHAPTER. 
 
 his birth day, the eleventh of June 
 
 When the Apostle Barnaby the bright 
 Unto our year doth give the longest light. 
 
 BEN JONSON. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXXVIIL p.346. 
 DOUBTFUL PEDIGREE OF ECLIPSE. SHAKESPEAK 
 (N. B. NOT WILLIAM) AND OLD MARSK. A PECU- 
 LIARITY OF THE ENGLISH LAW. 
 
 Lady Percy. But hear you, my Lord ! 
 Hotspur. What say'st thou, my lady ? 
 Lady Percy. What is it carries you away ? 
 Hotspur. Why my Horse, my love, my Horse. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXXIX. p. 347. 
 
 FACTS AND OBSERVATIONS RELATING TO ONOMA- 
 
 TOLOGY. 
 
 Moreover there are many more things in the World 
 than there are names for them ; according to the saying 
 of the Philosopher ; Nomina sunt finita, ret out fin in- 
 finites i idea unum nomcn plura sign(ficat : which saying 
 is by a certain, or rather uncertain, author approved: 
 Multis spcciebus nan sunt nomina ; idcirco necessarium 
 est nomina fingere, si nullum ante erit nomfn impositum. 
 
 GWILLIM. 
 
 CHAPTER CXL. p. 353. 
 
 HOW THERE AROSE A DISPUTE BETWEEN BARNABY 
 AND NICHOLAS CONCERNING THE NAMING OP 
 THIS COLT, AND OF THE EXTRAORDINARY CIR- 
 CUMSTANCES THAT ENSUED. 
 
 Quoiqu'il en soil, je ne tairai point cette hisloire ; je 
 fabandonne d la credulili, ou a Cincredulitt ties Lccteurs, 
 its prendront d cet egard quel parti il Icur plaira. Je 
 dirai settlement, s'ils ne la veulent pas croire, que je let 
 defte de me prouver qu'elle soil absolumeiit impossible ; ils 
 ne le prouverontjamais. GOMGAU. 
 
 CHAPTER CXLI. p. 354. 
 
 A SINGULAR ANECDOTE AND NOT MORE SAD THAN 
 TRUE. 
 
 Oh penny Pipers, and most painful penners 
 Of bountiful new Ballads, what a subject. 
 What a sweet subject for your silver sounds ! 
 
 BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. 
 
 CHAPTER CXLII. p. 355. 
 A DEFECT IN HOYLE SUPPLIED. GOOD ADVICE 
 GIVEN, AND PLAIN TRUTH TOLD. A TRIBUTE 
 OF RESPECT TO THE MEMORY OF F. NEWBERY, 
 THE CHILDREN'S BOOKSELLER AND FRIEND. 
 
 Neither is it a thing impossible or greatly hard, even by 
 such kind of proofs so to manifest and clear that point, 
 that no man living shall be able to deny it, without deny- 
 ing some apparent principle such as all men acknowledge 
 to be true. HOOKER. 
 
 CHAPTER CXLIII. p. 356. 
 
 A FEEBLE ATTEMPT TO DESCRIBE THE PHYSICAL 
 AND MORAL QUALITIES OF NOBS. 
 
 Quant d moi, je desirerois fort Sf avoir bien dire, ou que 
 j'eutse eu une bonne plume, el bien taillee a commande- 
 ment, pour I'ezalter et lover comtne il le merite. Tuutes- 
 fois, telle quelle est,je m'en vais C employer au hazard. 
 
 BRANTOME. 
 
 CHAPTER CXLTV. p.363 
 
 HISTORY AND ROMANCE RANSACKED FOR RESEM- 
 BLANCES AND NON-RESEMBLANCES TO THE 
 HORSE OF DR. DANIEL DOVE. 
 
 Renowned beast ! (forgive poetic flight !) 
 Not less than man, deserves poetic right. 
 
 THE BRCCIAD. 
 
 CHAPTER CXLV. p.369. 
 
 WILLIAM OSMER. INNATE QUALITIES. MARCH OF 
 ANIMAL INTELLECT. FARTHER REVEALMENT OF 
 THE COLUMBIAN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 There is a word, and it is a great word in this Book,* 
 \ici-nuun, In id ipsum, that is, to look to the thing 
 itself, the very point, the principal matter of all ; to have 
 our eye on that, and not off it, upon alia omnia, any thing 
 
 but it To go to the point, drive all to that, as also to go 
 
 to the matter real, without declining from it this way or 
 that, to the right hand or to the left. BP. AKDREWES. 
 
 * The New Testament which the Preacher had before 
 him.
 
 XXX 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER CXLVI. p. 373. 
 
 DANIEL DOVE VERSUS SENECA AND BEN JONSON. 
 ORLANDO AND HIS HORSE AT RONCESVALLES. 
 ME. BURCHELL. THE PRINCE OF ORANGE. THE 
 LORD KEEPER GUILDFORD. REV. MB. HAWTAYN. 
 DR. THOMAS JACKSON. THE ELDER SCALIGER. 
 EVELYN. AN ANONYMOUS AMERICAN. WALTER 
 LANDOR, AND CAROLINE BOWLES. 
 
 Contented with an humble theme 
 
 I pour my stream of panegyric down 
 
 The vale of Nature, where it creeps and winds 
 
 Among her lovely works with a secure 
 
 And unambitious course, reflecting clear, 
 
 If not the virtues, yet the worth of brutes. COWPER. 
 
 CHAPTER CXLVII. p.375. 
 
 OLD TREES. SHIPS. FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. 
 LIFE AND PASSIONS ASCRIBED TO INANIMATE 
 OBJECTS. FETISH WORSHIP. A LORD CHAN- 
 CELLOR AND HIS GOOSE. 
 
 Ce quej'en ay escrit, c'estpour une curiosite, quiplaira 
 possible & aucuns : et non possible auz autres. 
 
 BRANTOMB. 
 
 CHAPTER EXTRAORDINARY. p. 379. 
 
 PROCEEDINGS AT A BOOK CLUB. THE AUTHOR 
 
 ACCUSED OF " Lese delicatesse," OR WHAT is 
 
 CALLED AT COURT " TUM-TI-TEE." HE UTTERS A 
 MYSTERIOUS EXCLAMATION, AND INDIGNANTLY 
 VINDICATES HIMSELF. 
 
 Remprofecto mirabilem,longequestupendam, rebusque 
 veris veriorem describo. HIBRONYMUS RADIOLENSIS. 
 
 CHAPTER CXLVIII. p. 384. 
 
 WHEREIN A SUBSTITUTE FOR OATHS, AND OTHER 
 PASSIONATE INTERJECTIONS IS EXEMPLIFIED. 
 
 What have we to do with the times ? We cannot cure 'em : 
 Let them go on : when they are swoln with surfeits 
 They'll burst and stink : Then all the world shall smell 
 'em. BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. 
 
 CHAPTER CXLIX. p. 387. 
 
 A PARLOUS QUESTION ARISING OUT OF THE FORE- 
 GOING CHAPTER. MR. IRVING AND THE UN- 
 KNOWN TONGUES. TAYLOR THE WATER POET. 
 POSSIBLE SCHEME OF INTERPRETATION PRO- 
 POSED. OPINIONS CONCERNING THE GIFT OF 
 TONGUES AS EXHIBITED IN MADMEN. 
 
 Speak what terrible language yon will, though you 
 understand it not yourselves, no matter ! Chough's lan- 
 guage, gabble enough and good enough. SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 CHAPTER CL. p. 390. 
 XHB WEDDING PEAL AT ST. GEORGE'S, AND THE 
 
 BRIDE'S APPEARANCE AT CHUBCH. 
 See how I have strayed ! and you'll not wonder when you 
 reflect on the whence and the whither. 
 
 ALEXANDER KNOX. 
 
 CHAPTER CLL p. 391. 
 
 SOMETHING SERIOUS. 
 
 If thou hast read all this Book, and art never the better, 
 yet catch this flower before thou go out of the garden, 
 and peradventure the scent thereof will bring thee back 
 to smell the rest. HENRY SMITH. 
 
 CHAPTER CUT. p. 393. 
 
 ODD OPINIONS CONCERNING BIOGRAPHY AND EDU- 
 CATION. THE AUTHOR MAKES A SECOND HIATUS 
 AS UNWILLINGLY AS HE MADE THE FIRST, AND 
 FOR THE SAME COGENT REASON. 
 
 Ya sabes pero esfoi-zoso 
 Repetirlo, aunque lo scpas. 
 
 CALDERON. 
 
 CHAPTER CL1II. p. 394. 
 
 MATRIMONY AND RAZORS. LIGHT SAYINGS LEAD- 
 ING TO GRAVE THOUGHTS. USES OF SHAVING. 
 
 I wonder whence that tear came, when I smiled 
 In the production on't ! Sorrow's a thief 
 That can when joy looks on, steal forth a grief. 
 
 MASSINGBR. 
 
 CHAPTER CLIV. p. 396. 
 
 A POET'S CALCULATION CONCERNING THE TIME 
 EMPLOYED IN SHAVING, AND THE USE THAT 
 MIGHT BE MADE OF IT. THE LAKE POETS LAKE 
 SHAVERS ALSO. A PROTEST AGAINST LAKE 
 SHAVLNG. 
 
 Intellect and industry are never incompatible. There 
 is more wisdom, and will be more benefit, in combining 
 them than scholars like to believe, or than the common 
 world imagine. Life has time enough for both, and its 
 happiness will be increased by the union. 
 
 SHARON TDRNER. 
 
 CHAPTER CLV. p. 397. 
 
 THE POET'S CALCULATION TESTED AND PROVED. 
 
 Fiddle-faddle, don't tell of this and that, and every thing 
 in the world, but give me mathematical demonstration. 
 
 CONGREVE. 
 
 CHAPTER CLVL p. 399. 
 
 AN ANECDOTE OF WESLEY, AND AN ARGUMENT 
 ARISING OUT OF IT, TO SHOW THAT THE TIME 
 EMPLOYED IN SHAVING IS NOT SO MUCH LOST 
 TIME ; AND YET THAT THE POET'S CALCULATION 
 REMAINS OF PRACTICAL USE. 
 
 Questo medesimo anchora con una altra gagliardis- 
 sima ragione vi confe.rmo. LODOVICO DOMINICHI. 
 
 CHAPTER CLVIL p. 401. 
 
 WHICH THE READER WILL FIND LIKE A ROASTED 
 
 MAGGOT, SHORT AND SWEET. 
 Malum quod minimum est, id minimum est malum. 
 
 PLAUTUS.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 XXXI 
 
 CHAPTER CLVIIL p. 401. 
 
 DR. DOVE'S PRECEPTORIAL PRESCRIPTION, TO BE 
 TAKEN BY THOSE WHO NEED IT. 
 
 Some strange devise, I know, each youthful wight 
 
 Would here expect, or lofty brave assay : 
 
 But I'll the simple truth in simple wise convey. 
 
 HENRY MORE. 
 
 CHAPTER CLIX. p. 402. 
 
 THE AUTHOR COMPARES HIMSELF AXD THE DOCTOR 
 TO CARDINAL WOLSEY AND KINO HENRY VIII. 
 AND SUGGESTS SUNDRY SIMILES FOR THE STYLE 
 OF HIS BOOK. 
 
 I doubt not but some will liken me to the Lover in a 
 modern Comedy, who was combing his peruke and setting 
 his cravat before his mistress ; and being asked by her 
 when he intended to begin his court ? he replied, he had 
 been doing it all this while. DRYDEN. 
 
 CHAPTER CLX. p. 404. 
 
 MENTION OF ONE FOR WHOM THE GERMANS WOULD 
 COIN A DESIGNATION WHICH MIGHT BE TRANS- 
 LATED A ONCE READER. MANY MINDS IN THE 
 SAME MAN. A POET'S UNREASONABLE REQUEST. 
 THE AUTHOR OFFERS GOOD ADVICE TO HIS 
 READERS, AND ENFORCES IT BY AN EPISCOPAL 
 OPINION. 
 
 Judge not before 
 
 Thou know mine intent ; 
 But read me throughout, 
 And then say thy fill ; 
 As thou in opinion 
 Art minded and bent, 
 Whether it be 
 Either good or ill. E. P. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXI. p. 405. 
 
 WESLEY AND THE DOCTOR OB" THE SAME OPINION 
 UPON THE SUBJECT OF THESE CHAPTERS. A 
 STUPENDOUS EXAMPLE OF CYCLOPJEDIAN STO- 
 LIDITY. 
 
 A good razor never hurts, or scratches. Neither would 
 good wit, were men as tractable as their chins. But in- 
 stead of parting with our intellectual bristles quietly, we 
 set them up, and wriggle. Who can wonder then if we 
 are cut to the bone ? GUESSES AT TRUTH. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXII. p. 406. 
 AMOUNT OF EVERY INDIVIDUAL'S PERSONAL SINS 
 ACCORDING TO THE ESTIMATE OF MB. TOPLADY. 
 THE DOCTOR'S OPINION THEREON. A BILL FOR 
 CERTAIN CHURCH REPAIRS. A ROMISH LEGEND 
 WHICH IS LIKELY TO BE TRUE, AND PART OF A 
 JESUIT'S SERMON. 
 
 Mankind, tho' satirists with jobations weary us, 
 Has only two weak parts if fairly reckon'd ; 
 
 The first of which, is trifling with things serious ; 
 And seriousness in trifles is the second. 
 
 Remove these little rubs, whoe'er knows how, 
 
 And fools will be as scarce, as wise men DOW. 
 
 BISHOP. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXIII. p. 409. 
 
 AN OPINION OF EL VENERABLE PADRE MAESTRO 
 FRAY LUIS DE GRANADA, AND A PASSAGE 
 QUOTED FROM HIS WORKS, BECAUSE OF THE 
 PECULIAR BENEFIT TO WHICH PERSONS OF A 
 CERTAIN DENOMINATION WILL FIND THEM- 
 SELVES ENTITLED UPON READING OK HEARING 
 
 IT i : i : A i >. 
 
 Chacun tourne en rfalitfs 
 Au/ant qu'il petit, set propres songes ; 
 
 L'homme est df glace out virites, 
 II est defeu pour les mensonget. LA FONTAINE. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXTV. p. 410. 
 
 AN INQUIRY IN THE POULTRY YARD, INTO THE 
 TRUTH OF AN OPINION EXPRESSED BY ARISTOTLE. 
 
 This is some liquor poured out of his bottle ; 
 A deadly draught for those of Aristotle. 
 
 J. C. sometime of M. H. Oxon. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXV. p. 411. 
 
 A QUESTION ASKED AND RIGHTLY ANSWERED, 
 WITH NOTICES OF A GREAT IMPORTATION AN- 
 NOUNCED IN THE LEITH COMMERCIAL LIST. 
 
 " But tell me yet what followed on that But." DANIEL. 
 CHAPTER CLXVI. p. 412. 
 
 A WISH CONCERNING WHALES, WITH SOME RE- 
 MARKS UPON THEIR PLACE IN PHYSICAL AND 
 MORAL CLASSIFICATION. DR. ABRAHAM REES. 
 CAPTAIN SCORESBY. THE WHALE FISHERY. 
 
 Your Whale he will swallow a hogshead for a pill ; 
 But the maker of the mouse-trap is he that hath skill. 
 
 BEN JONSON. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXVLL p. 416. 
 
 A MOTTO WHICH IS WELL CHOSEN BECAUSE NOT 
 BEING APPLICABLE IT SEEMS TO BE SO. THK 
 AUTHOR NOT ERRANT HERE OR ELSEWHERE. 
 PHILOSOPHY AND OTHER-OSOPHIES. 
 Much from my theme and friend have I digressed, 
 
 But poor as I am, poor in stuff for thought, 
 And poor in thought to make of it the best, 
 
 Blame me not, Gentles, if I soon am caught 
 By this or that, when as my themes suggest 
 
 Aught of collateral aid which may be wrought 
 Into its service : Blame me not, I say; 
 The idly musing often miss their way. 
 
 CHARLES LLOYD. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXVIII. p. 416. 
 NE-PLUS-ULTRA-WHALE-FISHING. AN OPINION OF 
 CAPTAIN SCORESBY'S. THE DOCTOR DENIES 
 THAT ALL CREATURES WERE MADE FOR THE 
 USE OF MAN. THE CONTRARY DEMONSTRATED 
 IN PRACTICE BY BELLARMINE. 
 
 Scquar quo vocas, omnibus enint rebus omnitntsqtie 
 sermonibus, aliquid salutare miscendum est. SENECA.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXIX. p. 419. 
 
 LINKS AND AFFINITIES. A MAP OF THK AUTHOR'S 
 INTELLECTUAL COURSE IN THE FIVE PRECEDING 
 CHAPTERS. 
 
 *Xl 0/A.l *7S{, troi Sri Kail ffiOiv ; PlATO. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXX. p. 422. 
 
 THE AUTHOR REPEATS A REMARK OF HIS DAUGHTER 
 UPON THE PRECEDING CHAPTER ; COMPLIMENTS 
 THE LORD BROUGHAM AND VAUX UPON HIS 
 LUNGS AND LARYNX; PHILOSOPHISES AND 
 QUOTES, AND QUOTES AND PHILOSOPHISES AGAIN 
 AND AGAIN. 
 
 Fato, Fortuna, Predtslinazione, 
 
 Sorte, Caso, Ventura, son di quelle 
 Cose che dan gran noja a le persone, 
 
 E vi si dicon su di gran novelle. 
 Ma in fine Iddio d' ogni cose 4 padrone : 
 
 E chi e savio domina a le stelle ; 
 Chi non savio paziente e forte, 
 
 Lnmentisi di se, non de la sorte. ORL. INN. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXI. p. 425. 
 
 CONTAINING PART OF A SERMON, WHICH THE 
 READER WILL FIND WORTH MORE THAN MOST 
 WHOLE ONES THAT IT MAY BE HIS FORTUNE TO 
 HEAR. 
 
 Je fais tine grande provision de ban sens en prenanl ce 
 que les autres en ont. MADAME DE MAINTENON. 
 
 INTERCHAPTER XVII. p. 426. 
 
 A POPULAR LAY NOTICED, WITH SUNDRY REMARKS 
 PERTINENT THERETO, SUGGESTED THEREBY, OR 
 DEDUCED THEREFROM. 
 
 Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit: by and by 
 It will strike. TEMPEST. 
 
 INTERCHAPTER XVIII. p. 429. 
 
 APPLICATION OF THE LAY. CALEB D'ANVERS. 
 IRISH LAW. ICON BASILIKE. JUNIUS. THOMAS 
 A KEMPIS. FELIX HEMMERLEN. A NKEDLE 
 LARGER THAN GAMMER GURTON'S AND A MUCH 
 COARSEE THREAD. THOMAS WARTON AND 
 BISHOP STILL. THE JOHN WEBSTERS, THE 
 ALEXANDER CUNNINGHAMS, AND THE CURINAS 
 AND THE STEPHENS. 
 
 Lo que soy, razona poco 
 Porque de sombra a mi va nada, o poco. 
 
 FUEMTE DESEADA. 
 
 INTERCHAPTER XIX. p. 437. 
 
 THE AUTHOR DIFFERS IN OPINION FROM SIR EGER- 
 TON BRYDGES AND THE EMPEROR JULIAN, 
 SPEAKS CHARITABLY OF THAT EMPEROR, VINDI- 
 CATES PROTEUS FROM HIS CENSURE, AND TALKS 
 OF POSTHUMOUS TRAVELS AND EXTRA MUNDANE 
 EXCURSIONS, AND THE PUBLIC LIBRARY IN 
 LIMBOLAND. 
 
 Petulant. If he says black's black, if I have a humour 
 to say it is blue let that pass. All's one 
 for that. If I have a humour to prove it, it 
 must be granted. 
 
 Witwould. Not positively must, But it may, it may. 
 
 Petulant. Yes, it positively must, upon proof positive. 
 
 Witwould. Ay, upon proof positive it must ; but upon 
 proof presumptive it only may. That's a 
 logic.il distinction now. CONGREVE. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXIL p. 439. 
 DESCARTES' NOTION CONCERNING THE PROLON- 
 GATION OF LIFE. A SICILIAN PROPOSAL FOR 
 
 BREEDING UP CHILDREN TO BE IMMORTAL. 
 ASGILL'S ARGUMENT AGAINST THE NECESSITY 
 
 OF DYING. 
 
 O harmless Death ! whom still the valiant brave, 
 The wise expect, the sorrowful invite ; 
 
 And all the good embrace, who know the Grave 
 A short dark passage to eternal light. 
 
 SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXIII. p. 452. 
 
 MORE CONCERNING ASGILL. HIS DEFENCE IN 
 THE HOUSE OF COMMONS, HIS EXPULSION, 
 FARTHER SPECULATIONS AND DEATH. 
 Let not that ugly Skeleton appear ! 
 Sure Destiny mistakes; this Death's not mine ! 
 
 DRYDEN. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXIV. p. 456. 
 
 THE DOCTOR INDULGES IN THE WAY OF FANTASTIC 
 AND TYPICAL SPECULATION ON HIS OWN NAME, 
 AND ON THE POWERS OF THE LETTER D., 
 WHETHER AS REGARDS DEGREES AND DIS- 
 TINCTIONS, GODS AND DEMI-GODS, PRINCES 
 AND KINGS, PHILOSOPHERS, GENERALS, OR 
 TRAVELLERS. 
 My mouth's no dictionary; it only serves as the needful 
 
 interpreter of my heart. QUARLES. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXV. p. 458. 
 
 THE DOCTOR FOLLOWS UP HIS MEDITATIONS ON 
 THE LETTER D. AND EXPECTS THAT THE 
 READER WILL BE CONVINCED THAT IT IS A 
 DYNAMIC LETTER, AND THAT THE HEBREWS 
 DID NOT WITHOUT REASON CALL IT DALETH 
 THE DOOR AS THOUGH IT WERE THE DOOR 
 OF SPEECH. THE MYSTIC TRIANGLE. 
 More authority, dear boy, 'name more ; and sweet my 
 
 child let them be men of good repute and carriage. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 XXXlll 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXVI. p. 461. 
 
 THE DOCTOR DISC'OVERS THE ANTIQUITY OF THE 
 NAME OF DOVE FROM PERUSING JACOB BRY- 
 ANT'S ANALYSIS OF ANCIENT MYTHOLOGY. 
 CHRISTOPHER AND FERDINAND COLUMBUS. 
 SOMETHING ABOUT PIGEON-PIE, AND THE 
 REASON WHY THE DOCTOR WAS INCLINED TO 
 THINK FAVOURABLY OF THE SAMARITANS. 
 
 An' I take the humour of a thing once, I am like your 
 tailor's needle ; I go through. BEN JONSON. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXVII. p. 462. 
 
 SOMETHING ON THE SCIENCE AND MYSTERY OF 
 NUMBERS WHICH IS NOT ACCORDING TO COCKER. 
 REVERIES OF JEAN D'ESPAGNE, MINISTER OF 
 THE FRENCH-REFORMED CHURCH IN WEST- 
 MINSTER, AND OF MR. JOHN BELLAMY. A 
 PITHY REMARK OF FULLER'S, AND AN EXTRACT 
 FROM HIS PISGAH SIGHT OF PALESTINE, TO 
 RECREATE THE READER. 
 
 None are so surely caught, when they are catch'd, 
 As wit turn'd fool : folly, in wisdom hatch'd, 
 Hath wisdom's warrant, and the help of school, 
 And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXVIII. p. 465. 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF NUMBERS PURSUED, AND CER- 
 TAIN CALCULATIONS GIVEN WHICH MAY RE- 
 MIND THE READER OF OTHER CALCULATIONS 
 EQUALLY CORRECT. ANAGRAMMATISING OF 
 NAMES, AND THE DOCTOR'S SUCCESS THEREIN. 
 
 "There is no efficacy in numbers, said the wiser Philo- 
 sophers ; and very truly," saith Bishop Hacket in 
 repeating this sentence; but he continues, "some 
 numbers are apt to enforce a reverent esteem towards 
 them, by considering miraculous occurrences which fell 
 out in holy Scripture on such and such a number. -Non 
 potest fortuito fieri, quod tarn sirpejit, says Maldonatus, 
 whom I never find superstitious in this matter. It falls 
 out too often to be called contingent; and the oftcner it 
 falls out, the more to be attended." 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXIX. p. 467. 
 
 THE SUBJECT OF ANAGRAMS CONTINUED ; A TRUE 
 OBSERVATION WHICH MANY FOR WANT OF OB- 
 SERVATION WILL NOT DISCOVER TO BE SUCH, 
 VIZ., THAT THERE IS A LATENT SUPERSTITION 
 IN THE MOST RATIONAL OF MEN. LUCKY AND 
 UNLUCKY FITTING AND UNFITTING ; ANA- 
 GRAMS, AND HOW THE DOCTOR'S TASTE IN 
 THIS LINE WAS DERIVED FROM OUR OLD AC- 
 QUAINTANCE JOSHUA SILVESTER. 
 
 Ha gran forza una vecchia opinions ; 
 E bisogna grand' arte, e gran fatica, 
 A cavarla del capo alle persone. 
 
 BRONZING PITTORB. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXX. p. 469. 
 THE DOCTOR'S IDEAS OF LUCK, CHANCE, ACCI- 
 
 DENT, FORTUNE AND MISFORTUNE. THE 
 
 DUCHESS OF NEWCASTLE'S DISTINCTION BE- 
 
 TWEEN CHANCE AND FORTUNE, WHEREIN 
 NO-MEANING IS MISTAKEN FOR MEANING. 
 AGREEMENT IN OPINION BETWEEN THE PHILO- 
 SOPHER OF DONCASTER AND THE PHILOSOPHER 
 OF NORWICH. DISTINCTION BETWEEN UN- 
 FORTUNATELY UGLY, AND WICKEDLY UGLY. 
 DANGER OF PERSONAL CHARMS. 
 
 a; "miff. xau iXoyimu; ffOvMitrtn, xcti ni ft.lt >.i-ym eturHi 
 fjLri xotTtzXctfAfiotvovrbn, Slat = Tr t v OLO^ivltctv TW xotTetkvr^/taas, 
 ct./.t>yu; ciofAttan SixnTK^Baa TO.VTU., Si rot Aoyan tltnly oi/x 
 ix.ovn>. CONSTANT. ORAT. AD SANCT. C^T. c. VH. 
 
 " Deformity ' is either natural, voluntary, or adven- 
 titious, being either caused by God's unseen Providence, 
 (by men nicknamed chance,) or by men's cruelty." 
 
 FULLER'S HOLY STATE, B. iii. c. 15. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXXL p. 471. 
 
 NO DEGREE OF UGLINESS REALLY UNFORTUNATE. 
 FIDUS CORNELIUS COMPARED TO A PLUCKED 
 OSTRICH. WILKES' CLAIM TO UGLINESS CON- 
 SIDERED AND NEGATIVED BY DR. JOHNSON, 
 NOTWITHSTANDING HOGARTH'S PORTRAIT. 
 CAST OF THE EYE A LA MONTMORENCY. ST. 
 EVREMOND AND TURENNE. WILLIAM BLAKE 
 THE PAINTER, AND THE WELSH TRIADS. 
 CCRIOU8 EXTRACT FROM THAT VERY CURIOUS 
 AND RARE BOOK, THE DESCRIPTIVE CATALOGUE 
 OF HIS OWN PICTURES, AND A PAINFUL ONE 
 FROM HIS POETICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 " If ihou beest not so handsome as thou tcouldest have 
 been, thank God thou art not more unhandsome than thou 
 art. 'Tis His mercy thou art not the mark for passenger's 
 fingers to point at, an Heteroclite in nature, with some 
 member defective or redundant Be glad that thy clay 
 cottage hath all the necessary forms thereto belonging, 
 though the outside be not so fairly plaistered as some 
 others." FULLER'S HOLY STATE, iii. c. 15. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXXIL p.476. 
 
 AN IMPROVEMENT IN THE FORM OF THE HUMAN 
 LEG SUGGESTED BY A PHYSICIAN. THE DOC- 
 TOR'S CURE OF A BROKEN SHIN AND INVENTION 
 OF A SHIN-SHIELD. 
 
 Resfisci est, ubicunque natal. Whatsoever swims upon 
 any water, belongs to this exchequer. 
 
 JEREMY TAYLOR. Preface to the Duct. Dub. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXXIII. p. 477. 
 
 VIEWS OF OLD AGE. MONTAGNE, DANIEL COR- 
 NEILLE, LANGUET, PASQUIER, DR. JOHNSON, 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD, ST. EVREMOND. 
 
 What is age 
 
 But the holy place of life, the chapel of ease 
 For all men's wearied miseries ? MASSINGBR.
 
 XX XIV 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXXIV. p. 481. 
 
 FURTHER OBSERVATIONS CONCERNING OLD AGE. 
 BISHOP REYNOLDS. OPINION OF THE DOCTOR 
 CONCERNING BEASTS AND MEN. M. DE CUSTINE. 
 THE WORLD IS TOO MUCH WITH US. WORDS- 
 WORTH. SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 
 In these reflections, which are of a serious, and some- 
 what of a melancholy cast, it is best to indulge ; because 
 it is always of use to be serious, and not unprofitable 
 sometimes to be melancholy. FREEMAN'S SERMONS. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXXV. p. 483. 
 
 EVOLVEMENTS. ANALOGIES. ANTICIPATIONS. 
 
 I have heard, how true 
 I know not, most physicians as they grow 
 Greater in skill, grow less in their religion; 
 Attributing so much to natural causes, 
 That they have little faith in that they cannot 
 Deliver .reason for : this Doctor steers 
 Another course. MASSINGER. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXXYL p. 484 
 
 LEONE HEBREO'S DIALOGI DE AMORE. THE 
 ELIXIR OF LIFE NO OBSTACLE TO DEATH. 
 PARACELSUS. VAN HELMONT AND JAN MASS. 
 DE. DOVE'S OPINION OF A BIOGRAPHER'S 
 DUTIES. 
 
 There's a lean fellow beats all conquerors ! 
 
 OLD FORTUNATCS. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXXVIL p. 487. 
 VAN HELMONT'S WORKS, AND CERTAIN SPECIA- 
 LITIES IN HIS LIFE. 
 Voilh man conte Je ne s$ay s'il est vray ; mnis,je 
 
 Fay ainsi out/ confer Possible qne cela estfavx, possible 
 
 que nan Je m'en rapporte <J ce qui en est. 11 ne sera 
 
 pai damns qui le croira, ou decroira. BRANTOMB. 
 
 IXTERCHAPTER XX. p. 489. 
 
 8T. PANTALEON OF NICOMEDIA IN BITHYNIA 
 HIS HISTORY, AND SOME FURTHER PARTICULARS 
 NOT TO BE FOUND ELSEWHERE. 
 
 Non dice a le cose senna il quia ; 
 Che il dritlo distingueva dal mancino, 
 E dicea pane al pane, e vino al vino. BERTOLDO. 
 
 ARCH-CHAPTER. p. 493. 
 CHAPTER CLXXXVIII. p. 495. 
 
 FOLLY IN PRINT, REFERRED TO, BUT (N.B.) NOT 
 EXEMPLIFIED. THE FAIR MAID OF DONCASTER. 
 DOUBTS CONCERNING THE AUTHENTICITY OF 
 HER STORY. THEVENARD, AND LOVE ON A 
 NEW FOOTING. STARS AND GARTERS, A MONI- 
 TORY ANECDOTE FOR OUR SEX, AND A WHOLE- 
 SOME NOVELTY IN DRESS RECOMMENDED TO 
 BOTH. 
 
 They be at hand, Sir, with stick and fiddle, 
 They can play a new dance, Sir, called hey, diddle, diddle. 
 KING CAMBYSUS. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXXIX, p, 498. 
 
 THE DOCTOR'S OPINION OF LATE HOURS. DANCING. 
 FANATICAL OBJECTION OF THE ALBIGEXSES ; 
 INJURIOUS EFFECT OF THAT OPINION WHEN 
 
 TRANSMITTED TO THE FRENCH PROTESTANTS. 
 SIR JOHN DAVIES AND BURTON QUOTED TO 
 SHOW THAT IT CAN BE NO DISPARAGEMENT 
 TO SAY THAT ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGli, 
 WHEN ALL THE SKY'S A BALL-ROOM. 
 
 I could be pleased with any one 
 
 Who entertained my sight with such gay shows, 
 
 As men and women moving here and there, 
 
 That coursing one another in their steps 
 
 Have made their feet a tune. DRYDEI*. 
 
 CHAPTER CXC. p. 501. 
 
 DANCING PROSCRIBED BY THE METHODISTS. ADAM 
 CLARKE. BURCHELL'S REMARKS ON THE UNI- 
 VERSALITY OF THIS PRACTICE. HOW IT IS 
 REGARDED IN THE COLUMBIAN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Non vi par adunque die habbiamo ragionato a baslanza 
 di questo ? A baslanza parmi, rispose il Signor Gasparo ; 
 pur desidero io f intendere quulche particolarilH anchor. 
 
 IL CORTEGIANO. 
 
 CHAPTER CXCI- p. 504. 
 
 A SERIOUS WORD IN SAD APOLOGY FOR ONE OF 
 THE MANY FOOLISH WAYS IN WHICH TIME IS 
 MIS-SPENT. 
 
 Time as he passes us, has a dove's wing, 
 Unsoil'd, and swift, and of a silken sound ; 
 But the World's Time, is Time in masquerade ! 
 Their's, should I paint him, has his pinions fledged, 
 With motley plumes; and where the peacock shews 
 His azure eyes, is tinctured black and red 
 With spots quadrangular of diamond form, 
 Ensanguined hearts, clubs typical of strile, 
 And spades, the emblem of untimely graves. 
 
 COWPER. 
 
 CHAPTER CXCI1. p.506. 
 
 MORE OF THE DOCTOR'S PHILOSOPHY, WHICH WILL 
 AND WILL NOT BE LIKED BY THE LADIES, AND 
 SOME OF THE AUTHOR'S WHICH WILL AND WILL 
 NOT BY THE GENTLEMEN. THE READER IS IN- 
 TRODUCED TO COUNT CASTIGLIONE, AND TO SIR 
 JOHN CHEKE. 
 
 Oil tend I'autcur a cette heurc? 
 Quefait-il? Revient-il? Va-t-il? Ou s'il demeure f 
 
 L'ACTEUR. 
 
 Kon,je ne rcviens p.ts, carje n'ai pns ete ; 
 
 Je ne vais pas aussi, carje suis arrete ; 
 
 El ne demeure point, car, tout de cepas nicme 
 
 Je pre tens m'en alter. MOLIERE.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 XXXV 
 
 CHAPTER CXCIII. p. 510. 
 
 MASTER THOMAS MACE, AMD THE TWO HISTORIANS 
 OP HIS SCIENCE, SIR JOHN HAWKINS AND DR. 
 BURNEY. SOME ACCOUNT OF THE OLD LUTANI3T 
 AND OF HIS "MUSIC'S MONUMENT." 
 
 This Man of Music hath more in his head 
 Than mere crotchets. Sin W. DAVENANT. 
 
 CHAPTER CXCIV. p.olG. 
 
 A MUSIC LESSON FROM MASTER THOMAS MACK TO 
 BE PLAYED BY LADY FAIR : A STORY, THAN 
 WHICH THERE IS NONE PIJETT1EK IN THE HIS- 
 TORY OF MUSIC. 
 
 What shall I say? Or shall I say no more ? 
 
 I must go on ! I'm brim-full, running o'er. 
 
 But yet I'll hold, because I judge ye wise ; 
 
 And few words unto such may well suffice. 
 
 But much much mo-e than this I could declare ; 
 
 Yet for some certain reasons I'll forbear. 
 
 But li ss than this I could not say ; because, 
 
 If saying less, 1 hould neglect my cause, 
 
 For 'tis the Doctor's cause I plead so strong for, 
 
 And 'tis his cause completed th;it I long for, 
 
 And 'tis true doctrine certainly 1 preach, 
 
 And 'tis that doctrine every priest should teach. 
 
 THOMAS MACE, TO ALL DIVINE READERS. 
 
 CHAPTER CXCV. p.519. 
 
 ANOTHER LESSON, WITH THE STORY AND MANNER 
 OF ITS PRODUCTION. 
 
 Ou$iif {<-?T<i0'. u; uxifiXymr Xtyoy, 
 
 - /U|<fcf , iAXi rr,s trtuiTOu tfitis- SOPHOCLES. 
 
 CHAPTER CXCVI. p. 52ft. 
 
 FURTHER ACCOUNT OF MASTER THOMAS MACE, 
 HIS LIGHT HEART, HIS SORROWS, AND HIS 
 POVERTY, " POORLY, POOR MAN, HE LIVED, 
 POORLY, POOR MAN, HE DIED " PIIINEAS 
 FLETCHER. 
 
 The sweet and the sour, 
 
 The nettle and the flower, 
 
 The thorn and the rose, 
 
 This garland compose. 
 SMALL OAKLAND OF Pious AND GODLY SONGS. 
 
 CHAPTER CXCVIL p. 524. 
 
 QUESTION PROPOSED, WHETHER A MAN BE MAG- 
 NIFIED OR MINIFIED BY CONSIDERING HIMSELF 
 UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF THE HEAVENLY 
 BODIES, AND ANSWERED WITH LEARNING AND 
 DISCRETION. 
 
 I find by experience that Writing is like Building, 
 wherein the undertaker, to supply some defect, or serve 
 some convenience which at first he foresaw not, is usually 
 forced to exceed his first model and proposal, and many 
 times to double the charge and expence of it. 
 
 DR. JOHN SCOTT. 
 
 CHAPTER CXCVIIL p. 527. 
 
 PETER HOPKINS' VIEWS OF ASTROLOGY. HIS 
 SKILL IN CHIROMANCY, PALMISTRY, OR MANUAL 
 DIVINATION WISELY TEMl'KKED. SPANISH PRO- 
 VERB AND SONNET BY BARTOLOME LEONARDO 
 DE ARGENSOLA. TIPPOO SULTAN. MAHO- 
 METAN SUPERSTITION. W. Y. PLAYTEs' PRO- 
 SPECTUS FOR THE HORN BOOK FOR THE RE- 
 MEMBRANCE OF THE SIGNS OF SALVATION. 
 
 Segvile dunqve con la mentc Hrta, 
 Sf guile, Monsignor, che com' iu dico, 
 Presto presto sarete in su la mela. 
 
 LCDOVICO DOLCE. 
 
 CHAPTER CXCIX. p. 530. 
 
 CONCERNING THE GREAT HONOURS TO WHICH 
 CERTAIN HORSES HAVE ATTAINED, AND THE 
 KOYAL MERITS OF NOBS. 
 
 Sientopara contarlas que me llama 
 El a mi, yo a mi pluma, ella a lafama. 
 
 BALBUENA. 
 
 CHAPTER CC. p. 531. 
 
 A CHAPTER OF KINGS. 
 
 FFMBIJL-FAMBI heitr 
 Sd crfalt kann si-gia, 
 That er osnolvrs athal. 
 
 Fimbul-Jambi (falitui ) voeatur 
 
 Out pnuca novit narrnre : 
 
 Ea est hominis insciti proprietas . 
 
 EDDA, Hava M'il. 
 
 ISTTERCHAPTER XXI. p. 536. 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 J.e Pl:-be e beslin 
 
 Di cento teste, e non rinchiude in lorn 
 I'ur unria Ui xi/i^r. CHIABKERA. 
 
 INTERCHAPTER XXII. p. 537. 
 
 VARIETY OF STILES. 
 
 Quails vir, tal-s oratio. ERASMI ADAGIA. 
 
 IXTERCHAPTER XXIII. p. 538. 
 
 A LITTLE ADVICE BESTOWED UPON THE SCORN FUL, 
 READER IN A SHORT INTERCHATTER. 
 
 No man is so foolish but may give another good 
 counsel sometimes: and no m;ui is so wis, but may 
 easily err, if he will take no other's counsel but his own. 
 
 BEN JONSON. 
 
 PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH VOLUME. 
 
 p. 539. 
 Invenias etfai disjccti membra Poetie.
 
 XXXVI 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER CCL p.539. 
 
 QUESTION CONCERNING THE USE OF TONGUES. 
 THE ATHANASIAN CONFESSORS. GIBBON'S RE- 
 LATION OF THE SUPPOSED MIRACLE OF TONGUES. 
 THE FACTS SHOWN TO BE TRUE, THE MIRACLE 
 IMAGINARY, AND THE HISTORIAN THE DUPE OF 
 HIS OWN UNBELIEF. 
 
 Pcrseveremus, peractis qua rem continebant, scrutari 
 etiam ea qtue, si vis verum, connexa sunt, non coluerentia ; 
 qute quisquis diligenter inspirit, necfacit cperce prcetium, 
 nee tamen perdit operam. SENECA. 
 
 CHAPTER CCIL p.543. 
 
 A LAW OF ALFRED'S AGAINST LYING TONGUES. 
 
 OBSERVATIONS ON LAX ONES. 
 
 As I have gained no small satisfaction to myself, so I 
 am desirous that nothing that occurs here may occasion 
 the least dissatisfaction to others. And I think it will be 
 impossible anything should, if they will be but pleased to 
 take notice of ray design. HENRY MORE. 
 
 CHAPTER CCIIL p.545. 
 WHETHER A MAN AND HIMSELF BE TWO. MAXIM 
 OF BAYLE'S. ADAM LITTLETON'S SERMONS, 
 A RIGHT-HEARTED OLD DIVINE WITH WHOM 
 
 THE AUTHOR HOPES TO BE BETTER ACQUAINTED 
 IN A BETTER WORLD. THE READER REFERRED 
 TO HIM FOR EDIFICATION. WHY THE AUTHOR 
 PURCHASED HIS SERMONS. 
 
 ParoU.es. Go to, thou art a witty fool, 1 have found 
 thee. 
 
 Clown. Did you find me in yourself, Sir? or were you 
 taught to find me? The search, Sir, was profitable ; and 
 much fool may you find in you, even to the world's plea- 
 sure and the increase of laughter. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 CHAPTER CCIV. p. 548. 
 ADAM LITTLETON'S STATEMENT THAT EVERY MAN 
 IS MADE UP OF THREE EGOS. DEAN YOUNG 
 DISTANCE BETWEEN A MAN'S HEAD AND HIS 
 
 HEART. 
 
 Perhaps when the Reader considers the copiousness of 
 the argument, he will rather blame me for being too brief 
 than too tedious. DR. JOHN SCOTT. 
 
 CHAPTER CCV. p. 549. 
 EQUALITY OF THE SEXES, A POINT ON WHICH 
 IT WAS NOT EASY TO COLLECT THE DOCTOR'S 
 OPINION. THE SALIC LAW. DANIEL ROGERS's 
 TREATISE OF MATRIMONIAL HONOUR, MISS 
 HATFIELD'S LETTERS ON THE IMPORTANCE OF 
 THE FEMALE SEX, AND LODOVICO DOMENICHl'S 
 DIALOGUE UPON THE NOBLENESS OF WOMEN. 
 
 Mirths and toys 
 
 To cozen time withal : for o' my troth, Sir, 
 I can love, I think well too, well enough ; 
 
 And think as well of women as they are, 
 Pretty fantastic things, some more regardful. 
 And some few worth a service. I'm so honest 
 I wish 'em all in Heaven, and you know how hard, Sir, 
 'Twill be to get in there with their great farthingals. 
 BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. 
 And not much easier now with their great sleeves. 
 
 AUTHOR. A. D. 1830. 
 
 CHAPTER CCVL p. 552. 
 THE SUBJECT CONTINUED. OPINIONS OF THE 
 RABBIS. ANECDOTE OF LADY JEKYLL AND A 
 TART REPLY OF WILLIAM WHISTON'S. JEAN 
 D'ESPAGNE. QUEEN ELIZABETH OF THE QUORUM 
 QUARUM QUORUM GENDER. THE SOCIETY OF 
 GENTLEMEN AGREE WITH MAHOMET IN SUPPOS- 
 ING THAT WOMEN HAVE NO SOULS, BUT ARE 
 OF OPINION THAT THE DEVIL IS AN HERMA- 
 PHRODITE. 
 
 Sing of the nature of women, and then the song shall be 
 surely full of variety, old crotchets, and most sweet closes : 
 It shall be humourous, grave, fantastic, amorous, melan- 
 choly, sprightly, one in all and all in one. MARSTON. 
 
 CHAPTER CCVII. p.554. 
 
 FRACAS WITH THE GENDER FEMININE. THE 
 
 DOCTOR'S DEFENCE. 
 
 If there sit twelve women at the table, let a dozen of 
 them be as they are. TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 CHAPTER CCVIII. p. 555. 
 
 VALUE OF WOMEN AMONG THE AFGHAUNS. LIGON's 
 HISTORY OF BARBADOES, AND A FAVOURITE 
 STORY OF THE DOCTOR'S THEREFROM. CLAUDE 
 SEISSEL, AND THE SALIC LAW. JEWISH THANKS- 
 GIVING. ETYMOLOGY OF MULIER, WOMAN, AND 
 LASS ; FROM WHICH IT MAY BE GUESSED HOW 
 MUCH IS CONTAINED DJ THE LIMBO OF ETYMO- 
 LOGY. 
 
 If thy name were known that writest in this sort, 
 
 By womankind, unnaturally, giving evil report, 
 
 Whom all men ought, both young and old, defend with all 
 
 their might, 
 
 Considering what they do deserve of every living wight, 
 I wish thou should exiled be from women more and less, 
 And not without just cause thou must thyself confess. 
 EDWARD MORE. 
 
 INTERCHAPTER XXIV. p. 558. 
 
 A TRUE STORY OF THE TERRIBLE KNITTERS E' 
 DENT WHICH WILL BE READ WITH INTEREST BY 
 HUMANE MANUFACTURERS, AND BY MASTERS OF 
 SPINNING JENNIES WITH A SMILE. BETTY YEW- 
 DALE. THE EXCURSION AN EXTRACT FROM, 
 AND AN ILLUSTRATION OF. 
 
 O voi ck' avete gl' intelietti sani, 
 
 Mirate la dottrina, che s' asconde 
 
 Sullo 'I eelame degli versi strani. DANTK.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 xxxvn 
 
 CHAPTER CC1X. p. 502. 
 
 EARLY APPROXIMATION TO THE DOCTOR'S THEORY. 
 GEORGE FOX. ZACHARIAU BEN MOHAMMED. 
 COWPER. INSTITUTES OF MENU. BARDIC PHI- 
 LOSOPHY. MILTON. SIR THOMAS BROWNE. 
 
 There are distinct degrees of Being as there are degrees 
 of Sound ; and the whole world is but as it were a greater 
 Gamut, or scale of music. Noiuus. 
 
 CHAPTER CCX. p. 569. 
 
 A QUOTATION FROM BISHOP BERKELEY, AND A HIT 
 
 AT THE SMALL CRITICS. 
 
 Plusieurs blameront I'entass ement dc passages que Con 
 vicnt tie vuir ; j'ai prevu l<~urs dedaim, leurs degouts, et 
 leurs censures magistrates; et n'ai pat voulu y nvoir 
 
 BAYLE. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXI. p. 570. 
 
 SOMETHING IN HONOUR OF BISHOP WATSON. CUD- 
 WORTH. JACKSON OF OXFORD AND NEWCASTLE. 
 A BAXTERIAN SCRUPLE. 
 
 S'il y a dcs lecteurs qui se soucient peu de cela, on les 
 prie de se souvenir qu'un auteur n'estpas obligi a ne rien 
 dire que ce qui est de leurguut. BAYLE. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXII. p. 571. 
 
 SPECULATIONS CONNECTED WITH THE DOCTOR'S 
 THEORY. DOUBTS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 t'oilH liien des mys/e'res, dira-t-on ; fen conviens ; aussi 
 Ic snjet le merite-t-il bien. Au reste, il est certain que 
 ces mysleres ne cacfient rien de mauvais. GOMGAM. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXIII. p.574. 
 
 BIRDS OF PARADISE. THE ZIZ. STORY OF THE 
 ABBOT OF ST. SALVADOR DE VILLAR. HOLY 
 COLETTE'S NONDESCRIPT PET. THE ANIMAL- 
 CULAR WOHIJX GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 And so 1 came to Fancy's meadows, strow'd 
 
 With many a flower ; 
 Fain would I here have made abode, 
 But I was quickened by my hour. HERBERT. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXI V. p. 577. 
 
 FURTHER DIFFICULTIES. QUESTION CONCERNING 
 INFERIOR APPARITIONS. BLAKE THE PAINTER, 
 AND THE GHOST OF A FLEA. 
 
 la amplissimd causa, quasi mngno mart, pluribus ventu 
 sumus eecti. PLINY. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXV. p. 579. 
 
 FACTS AND FANCIES CONNECTING THE DOCTOR'S 
 THEORY WITH THE VEGETABLE WORLD. 
 
 We will not be too peremptory herein : and build 
 standing structures of bold assertions on so uncertain a 
 foundation ; rather with the llechabites we will live in 
 tents of conjecture, which on better reason we may easily 
 alter aud remove. FULLER. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXVI. p. 581. 
 
 A SPANISH AUTHORESS. HOW THE DOCTOR OB- 
 TAINED HER WORKS FROM MADRID. THE PLEA- 
 SURE AND ADVANTAGES WHICH THE AUTHoU 
 DERIVES FROM HIS LANDMARKS IN THE BOOKS 
 WHICH HE HAD PERUSED. 
 
 ALEX. Quel et D. Diego aquel Arbol, 
 
 que titne la copa en tierra 
 
 y las raizes arriba ? 
 DIKG. Elhombre. EL LBTRADO DEL CIELO. 
 
 Man is a Tree that hath no top in cares. 
 
 No root in comforts. CHAPMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXVLL p. 583. 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF D. OLTVA SABUCO'S MEDICAL 
 THEORIES AND PRACTICE. 
 
 Yo tolvert 
 
 A nueva diligencia y paso largo, 
 
 Que es breve el (tempo, 's grande le memoria 
 
 Que para darla al mundo esta a mi cargo. 
 
 BALBUENA. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXVI II. p. 586. 
 THE MUNDANE SYSTEM AS COMMONLY HELD IN D. 
 OLTVA'S AGE. MODERN OBJECTIONS TO A PLURA- 
 LITY OF WORLDS BY THE REV. JAMES MILLER, 
 
 Un cerchio immaginato ci bisogna, 
 
 A voter b<~n la spera contemplare ; 
 Cosi chi intender questa storia agogna 
 
 Conviensi altro per altro immaginare ; 
 Perche qui non si cant a. efingc, e sogna ; 
 
 Venuto e il tempo daJUoiofare. Putci. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXIX. p. 588. 
 THE ARGUMENT AGAINST CHRISTIANITY DRAWN 
 FROM A PLURALITY OF WORLDS SHOWN TO BE 
 FUTILE: REMARKS ON THE OPPOSITE DISPOSI- 
 TIONS BY WHICH MEN ARE TEMPTED TO INFI- 
 DELITY. 
 
 ascolta 
 Siccome suomo di verace lingua ; 
 E porgimi I'oreccfiio. 
 
 CUIABRERA. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXX. p. 590. 
 
 DONA OLIVA'S PHILOSOPHY, AND VIEWS OF POLI- 
 TICAL REFORMATION. 
 
 Non t'ipar adunque cfif habbiamo rngionato a baslanza 
 di questo f A bastanza parmi, rispose il Signor Caspar s 
 par desidero to d' intendcre qualcfie particolarita anchor. 
 
 CASTIGLIONR. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXI. p. 593. 
 THE DOCTOR'S OPINION OF DONA OLIVA'S PRAC- 
 TICE AND HUMANITY. 
 Anchor dir si potrebber cose asiai 
 Che la materia e tanto piena etjolta, 
 Che non se ne vert ^obe d capo mai, 
 Dunquefia buono c/i' io suoni a raccoita. 
 
 FK. SANSOVINO.
 
 COXTENTS. 
 
 FRAGMENTS. p. 594. 
 
 The prince 
 
 Of Poets, Homer, sang long since, 
 A skilful leech is better far 
 Than half a hundred men of war. 
 
 IXTERCHAP.TER XXV. p. 598. 
 
 A WISHING INTERCHAPTER WHICH IS SHORTLY 
 TERMINATE!), ON SUDDENLY RECOLLECTING THE 
 WORDS OF CLEOPATRA, "WISHERS WERE 
 EVER FOOLS." 
 
 Begin betimes, occasion's bald behind, 
 Stop not thine opportunity, for fear too late 
 Thou seek'st for much, but canst not compass it. 
 
 MARLOWE. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXIL p. 599. 
 
 ETYMOLOGY. UN TOUR DE MA1TRE GONIN. ROMAN 
 DE VAUDEMONT AND THE LETTER C. SHEN- 
 STONE. THE DOCTOR'S USE OF CHRISTIAN NAMES. 
 
 . xtxmrau, nyat. 
 
 ARISTOPHANES. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXIIL p. 602. 
 
 TRUE PRONUNCIATION OF THE NAME OF DOVE. 
 DIFFICULTIES OF PRONUNCIATION AND PRO- 
 SODY. A TRUE AND PERFECT RHYME HIT UPON. 
 
 Tal nombre, que a lot sfglos extendido, 
 
 Se olvide de olvidarsele al Olvido. LOPE DE VEGA. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXIV. p. 605. 
 
 CHARLEMAGNE, CASIMIR THE POET, MARGARET 
 DUCHESS OF NEWCASTLE, NOCTURNAL REMEM- 
 BRANCER. THE DOCTOR NOT AMBITIOUS OF 
 FAME. THE AUTHOR IS INDUCED BY MR. FOS- 
 BROOKE AND NORRIS OF BEMERTON TO EJACU- 
 LATE A HEATHEN PRAYER IN BEHALF OF HIS 
 BRETHREN. 
 
 Tulte le cose son rose et viole 
 
 C/i' io dico d ch' io dird de la virtute. 
 
 FR. SANSOVINO. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXV. p. 606. 
 
 TWO QUESTIONS GROWING OUT OF THE PRECEDING 
 CHAPTER. 
 
 A Taylor who has no objection to wear motley, may 
 make himself a great coat with half a yard of his own stuff, 
 by eking it out with cabbage from every piece that comes 
 iii his way. ROBERT SOUTHEY. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXYI. p. C08. 
 
 THE AUTHOR DIGRESSES A LITTLE, AND TAKES UP 
 A STITCH WHICH WAS DROPPED IN THE EARLIER 
 PART OF THIS OPUS. NOTICES CONCERNING 
 LITERARY AND DRAMATIC HISTORY, BUT PERTI- 
 NENT TO THIS PART OF OUR SUBJECT. 
 Jam paululum rtigressus a spectantibus, 
 Doctis loquar, qui non adeo spcctnre quam 
 Audire gcstiunt, logosque ponderant, 
 Etaminant, dijttdicattlque pro sun 
 Candore vel livore ; nun laium lainen 
 Culmum (quod afunt) dum loquar sapientibiu 
 Loco movebor. MACROPEDIUS. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXVIL p. 616. 
 
 SYSTEM OF PROGRESSION MARRED ONLY BY MAN'S 
 INTERFERENCE. THE DOCTOR SPEAKS SERIOUSLY 
 AND HUMANELY, AND QUOTES JUVENAL. 
 
 MONTENEGRO. How now, are thy arrows feathered ? 
 
 VELASCO. Well enough for roving. 
 
 MONTENEGRO. Shoot home then. SHIRLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXVIII. p. 617. 
 
 RATS. PLAN OF THE LAUREATE SOUTHEY FOR 
 LESSENING THEIR NUMBER. THE DOCTOR'S 
 HUMANITY IN REFUSING TO SELL POISON TO 
 KILL VERMIN, AFTER THE EXAMPLE OF PETER 
 HOPKINS HIS MASTER. POLITICAL P.ATS NOT 
 ALLUDED TO. RECIPE FOR KILLING RATS. 
 I know that nothing can be so innocently writ, or 
 
 carried, but may be made obnoxious to construction ; 
 
 marry, whilst 1 bear mine innocence about me, I fear 
 
 it not. BEN JONSON. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXIX. p. 618. 
 
 RATS LIKE LEARNED MEN LIABLE TO BE LED BY 
 THE NOSE. THE ATTENDANT UPON THE STEPS 
 OF MAN, AND A SORT OF INSEPARABLE ACCI- 
 DKNT. SEIGNEUR DE UUMESESNE AND PANTA- 
 GRUEL. 
 
 Where my pen hath offended, 
 
 I pray you it may be amended 
 
 By discrete consideration 
 
 Of your wise reformation : 
 
 I have not offended, I trust, 
 
 If it be sadly discust.- SKELTON. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXX. p. 620. 
 
 DISTINCTION BETWEEN YOUNG ANGELS AND YOUNG 
 YAHOOS. FAIRIES, KILLCROPS, AND CHANGE- 
 LINGS. LUTHER'S OPINIONS ON THE SUBJECT. 
 
 HIS COLLOQUIA MENSALIA. DIFFERENCE BE- 
 TWEEN THE OLD AND NEW EDITION. 
 I think it not impertinent sometimes to relate such 
 accidents as may seem no better than mere trifles ; for 
 even by trifles are the qualities of great persons as well 
 disclosed as by their great actions ; because in matters of 
 importance they commonly strain themselves to the ob- 
 servance of general commended rules ; in lesser things 
 they follow the current of their own natures. 
 
 SIR WALTER RALF.ICH.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXXI. p. 623. 
 
 QUESTION AS TO WHETHER BOOKS UNDER THE 
 TERMINATION OF " ANA " HAVE BEEN SERVICE- 
 ABLE OR INJURIOUS TO LITERATURE CONSIDERED 
 IN CONNECTION WITH LUTHER'S TABLE TALK. 
 HISTORY OF THE EARLY ENGLISH TRANSLATION 
 OF THAT BOOK, OF ITS WONDERFUL PRESERVA- 
 TION, AND OF THE MARVELLOUS AND UNIM- 
 PEACHABLE VERACITY OF CAPTAIN HENRY BELL. 
 
 Prophecies, predictions, 
 Stories and fictions, 
 Allegories, rhymes, 
 And serious pastimes 
 For all manner men, 
 Without regard when, 
 
 Or where they abide, 
 On this or that side, 
 Or under the mid line 
 Of the Holland sheets fine, 
 Or in the tropics fair 
 Of sunshine and clear air, 
 Or under the pole 
 Of chimney and sea coal : 
 
 Read they that list ; understand they that can ; 
 Verbum satis est to a wise man. 
 
 BOOK OF RIDDLES. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXXIL p. 626. 
 THE DOCTOR'S FAMILY FEELING. 
 
 It behoves the high 
 For their own sakes to do things worthily. 
 
 BEN JONSON. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXXIIL p. 629. 
 
 THE PETTY GERMAN PRINCES EXCELLENT PA- 
 TRONS OF LITERATURE AND LEARNED MEN. 
 THE DUKE OF SAXE WEIMAR. QUOTATION 
 FROM BISHOP HACKET. AN OPINION OF THE 
 EXCELLENT MR. BOYLE. A TENET OF THE 
 DEAN OF CHALON, PIERRE DE ST. JULIEN, AND 
 A VERITABLE PLANTAGENET. 
 
 Ita nati estis, lit I/ana maiaque vestra ad Rempublicam 
 pertineant. TACITUS. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXXI V. p. 631. 
 
 OPINION OF A MODERN DIVINE UPON THE WHERE- 
 ABOUT OF NEWLY-DEPARTED SPIRITS. ST. 
 JOHN'S BURIAL, ONE RELIC ONLY OF THAT 
 SAINT, AND WHEREFORE. A TALE CONCERNING 
 ABRAHAM, ADAM AND EVE. 
 
 Je Sftiy gu'il y a plusieurs qui diront que je fais beau- 
 coitp de petils fats contes, dunt je m'en passerois bien. 
 O'ty, bien pour attains, tnai's non pour tnoy, me con- 
 tentant de m'en renouveller le suuvenance, et en tirer 
 autant de plaisir. BKANTOME. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXXV. p. 634. 
 
 THE SHORTEST AND PLEASANTEST WAY FROM 
 DONCASTER TO JEDDAH, WITH MANY MORE, 
 TOO LONG. 
 
 Tlito; tritu trirn f 
 Ha, xZ yf oJx ifi 
 
 SOPHOCLES. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXXVL p. 641. 
 
 CHARITY OF THE DOCTOR IN HIS OPINIONS. 
 MASON THE POET. POLITICAL MEDICINE. SIR 
 WILLIAM TEMPLE. CERVANTES. STATE PHY- 
 SICIANS. ADVANTAGE TO BE DERIVED FROM, 
 WHETHER TO KING, CABINET, LORDS, OR COM- 
 MONS. EXAMPLES. PHILOSOPHY OF POPULAR 
 EXPRESSIONS. COTTON MATHER. CLAUDE PAJON 
 AND BARNABAS OLEY. TIMOTHY ROGERS AND 
 MELANCHOLY. 
 
 Gotol 
 
 You are a subtile nation, you physicians, 
 And grown the only cabinets in court ! B. JONSON. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXXVIL p. 646. 
 
 MORE MALADIES THAN THE BEST PHYSICIANS CAN 
 PREVENT BY REMEDIES. THE DOCTOR NOT 
 GIVEN TO QUESTIONS, AND OF THE POCO- 
 CURANTE SCHOOL AS TO ALL THE POLITICS OF 
 THE DAY. 
 
 A slight answer to an intricate and useless question is a 
 fit cover to such a dish ; a cabbage leaf is good enough to 
 cover a pot of mushrooms. JEREMY TAYLOR. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXXVIIL p.647. 
 
 SIMONIDES. FUNERAL POEMS. UNFEELING 
 
 OPINION IMPUTED TO THE GREEK POET, AND 
 EXPRESSED BY MALHERBE. SENECA. JEREMY 
 TAYLOR AND THE DOCTOR ON WHAT DEATH 
 MIGHT HAVE BEEN, AND, WERE MEN WHAT 
 CHRISTIANITY WOULD MAKE THEM, MIGHT BE. 
 
 Intendale chi pud ; che non I ttretto 
 Alcunu a creder piu di quel che vuole. 
 
 ORLANDO INNAMORATO. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXXIX. p. 648. 
 
 THE DOCTOR DISSENTS FROM A PROPOSITION OF 
 WARBURTON'S, AND SHOWS IT TO BE FAL- 
 LACIOUS. HUTCHINSON'S REMARKS ON THE 
 POWERS OF BRUTES. LORD SHAFTESBURY 
 QUOTED. APOLLONIUS AND THE KING OP 
 BABYLON. DISTINCTION IN THE TALMUD BE- 
 TWEEN AN INNOCENT BEAST AND A VICIOUS 
 ONE. OPINION OF ISAAC LA PEYRESC. THE 
 QUESTION DE ORIGINS ET NATURA ANIMARUM 
 IN BRCTIS AS BROUGHT BEFORE THE THEOLO- 
 GIANS OF SEVEN PROTESTANT ACADEMIES IN 
 THE YEAR 1635 BY DANIEL SENNERTUS. 
 
 Toutcs veritez ne sont pas bonnes & dire serieusement. 
 
 GUMGAM.
 
 xl 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXL. p. 655. 
 
 THE JESUIT GARASSE'S CENSURE OF HUARTE AND 
 BARCLAY. EXTRAORDINARY INVESTIGATION. 
 THE TENDENCY OF NATURE TO PRESERVE ITS 
 OWN ARCHETYPAL FORMS. THAT OF ART TO 
 VARY THEM. PORTRAITS. MORAL AND PHY- 
 SICAL CADASTRE. PARISH CHRONICLER AND 
 PARISH CLERK THB DOCTOR THOUGHT MIGHT 
 BE WELL UNITED. 
 
 Is't you, Sir, that know things ? 
 SOOTH. In nature's in8nite book of secresy, 
 
 A little I can read. SHAKSPBARB. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXLL p. 660. 
 
 THE DOCTOR'S UTOPIA DENOMINATED COLUMBIA. 
 
 HIS SCHEME ENTERED UPON BUT "LEFT 
 
 HALF TOLD " LIKE " THE STORY OF CAMBUS- 
 
 CAN BOLD." 
 
 I will to satisfy and please myself, make an Utopia of 
 mine own, a new Atlantis, a poetical commonwealth of 
 mine own, in which I will freely domineer, build cities, 
 make laws, statutes, as I list myself. And why may I not ? 
 
 BURTON. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXLIL p. 662. 
 
 FARTHER REMARKS UPON THE EFFECTS OF SCHISM, 
 AND THB ADVANTAGES WHICH IT AFFORDS TO 
 THE ROMISH CHURCH AND TO INFIDELITY. 
 
 In nan ci ho inlerresso 
 Nestun, ne vifui mat, ne manco chieggo 
 Per quel ch' to ne vb dir, d" esserei messo. 
 Vb dir, che tenza passion eleggo, 
 E nonforzato, e tenza pigliar parte; 
 Di dime tutlo quel, ch' iniendo e veggo. 
 
 BRONZING PITTORB. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXLHI. p. 664. 
 
 BREVITY BEING THE SOUL OF WIT THE AUTHOR 
 STUDIES CONCISENESS. 
 
 You need not fear a surfeit, here is but little, and that 
 light of digestion. QUARLES. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXLIV. p. 664. 
 
 THB AUTHOR VENTURES TO SPEAK A WORD ON 
 CHRISTIAN CHEERFULNESS: QUOTES BEN 
 SIRACH, SOLOMON, BISHOP HACKET, WALTER 
 SAVAGE LANDOR, BISHOP REYNOLDS, MILTON, 
 
 ETC. 
 
 AXA fb ntuTo, fjut9ut, 
 f) TV* ira.Su> r). 
 
 SlMONlDES. 
 
 FRAGMENTS TO THE DOCTOR. p. 669. 
 
 A LOVE FRAGMENT FOR THE LADIKS, INTIIOIHVED 
 BY A CURIOUS INCIDENT WHICH THE AUTHuR 
 BEGS THEY WILL EXCUSE. 
 
 Now will ye list a little space, 
 
 And I shall send you to solace ; 
 
 You to solace and be blyth, 
 
 Hearken ! ye shall hear belyve 
 
 A tale that is of verity. 
 
 ROSWALL AND LlI.Ll \N. 
 
 A FRAGMENT ON BEARDS. p. G71. 
 
 Yet have I more to say which I have thought upon, for 
 I am filled as the moon at the full ! KCCLESIASTICUS. 
 
 FRAGMENT ON MORTALITY. p. 673. 
 FRAGMENT OF SIXTH VOLUME. p. 674. 
 
 FRAGMENT WHICH WAS TO HAVE ANSWERED THE 
 QUESTION PROPOSED IN THE TWO HUNDRED 
 AND FORTY-SECOND CHAPTER. p. 676. 
 lo udii gia dire ad un valente uomo nostro vicino, gli 
 uomini abbiano molle volte bisogno si di lagrimare, come 
 di ridere ; e per tat cagione egli affermava essere state da 
 principio trovate le dolorose favole, che ti chiamarono 
 Tragedie, accioche raccontate ne' teatri, come in qual 
 tempo si costumava di/are, tirassero le lagrime agli occhi 
 di coloro, che avevano di do mestiere ; e cost eglino pian- 
 gendo delta loro infirmita guarisscro. Ma come cid sia 
 a not non ista bene di contristare gli animi tit lie persont 
 con ctti favelliamo ; massimamenle cola dove si dimori 
 per averfesta e sollazzo, e non per piagnere ; che se pure 
 atcuno i, che infermi per ttaghezza di lagrimare, nssai 
 leggier cosajia di medicarlo con la mustarda forte, o porio 
 in alcun luogo alfumo. 
 
 GALATEO, DEL M. GIOVANNI DELLA CASA. 
 
 FRAGMENT ON HUTCHISSON'S WORKS. p. 676. 
 
 FRAGMENT RELATIVE TO THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL 
 AT DONCASTER AND THE LIVING OF ROSSING- 
 TON. p. 679. 
 
 FRAGMENT OF INTERCHAPTER. p. 680. 
 MEMOIRS OF CAT'S EDEN. p. 681. 
 
 FRAGMENT OF INTERCHAPTER. p. 681. 
 More than prince of cats, 1 can tell jou. 
 
 ROMEO AND JtTLIET. 
 
 MEMOIR OF THE CATS OF GRETA HALL. p. 682. 
 FRAGMENT OF INTERCHAPTER. p. 686. 
 
 EI2 TOTS ANAPIANTA2.-p.686. 
 
 1 At" 8*/3Af itixrtvffi Tin Ta;oe/M<; KtOfutroi;, xzi 
 tlf roW fuv @ctffi\&r Cfigiffotv avJ^avTfltf . 
 
 CHBYSOST. HOM AD POPUL. ANTIOCHEN. 
 
 EPILUDE OF MOTTOES. p. 691. 
 L'EXTOY. p.694.
 
 THE DOCTOR, 
 
 CHAPTER VII. A. I. 
 
 A FAMILY PARTY AT A NEXT DOOR NEIGH- 
 BOUR'S. 
 
 Good Sir, reject it not, although it bring 
 Appearances of some fantastic thing 
 At first unfolding ! 
 
 GEORGE WITHER TO THE KING. 
 
 I WAS in the fourth night of the story of the 
 Doctor and his horse, and had broken it off, 
 not like Scheherezade because it was time 
 to get up, but because it was time to go to 
 bed. It was at thirty-five minutes after ten 
 o'clock, on the 20th of July, in the year of 
 our Lord 1813. I finished my glass of punch, 
 tinkled the spoon against its side, as if 
 making music to iny meditations, and having 
 my eyes fixed upon the Bhow Begum, who 
 was sitting opposite to me at the head of her 
 own table, I said, " It ought to be written 
 in a book ! " 
 
 There had been a heavy thunder-storm in 
 the afternoon ; and though the thermometer 
 had fallen from 78 to 70, still the atmosphere 
 was charged. If that mysterious power 
 by which the nerves convey sensation and 
 make their impulses obeyed, be (as experi- 
 ments seem to indicate) identical with the 
 galvanic fluid ; and if the galvanic and 
 electric fluids be the same (as philosophers 
 have more than surmised) ; and if the lungs 
 (according to a happy hypothesis) elaborate 
 for us from the light of heaven this pabulum 
 of the brain, and material essence, or essen- 
 tial matter of genius, it may be that the 
 ethereal fire which I had inhaled so largely 
 during the day produced the bright concep- 
 tion, or at least impregnated and quickened 
 the latent seed. The punch, reader, had no 
 share in it. 
 
 I had spoken as it were abstractedly, and 
 the look which accompanied the words was 
 rather cogitative than regardant. The Bhow 
 Begum laid down her snuff-box and replied, 
 entering into the feeling, as well as echoing 
 the words, " It ought to be written in a 
 book, certainly it ought." 
 
 They may talk as they will of the dead 
 languages. Our auxiliary verbs give us a 
 power which the ancients, with all their 
 varieties of mood, and inflections of tense, 
 never could attain. " It must be written in 
 a book," said I, encouraged by her manner. 
 The mood was the same, the tense was the 
 same ; but the gradation of meaning was 
 marked in a way which a Greek or Latin 
 grammarian might have envied as well as 
 admired. 
 
 " Pshaw ! nonsense ! stuff! " said my wife's 
 eldest sister, who was sitting at the right 
 hand of the Bhow Begum ; " I say, write it 
 in a book indeed!" My wife's youngest 
 sister was sitting diagonally opposite to the 
 last speaker ; she lifted up her eyes and 
 smiled. It was a smile which expressed the 
 san e opinion as the late vituperative tones ; 
 there was as much of incredulity in it ; but 
 more of wonder and less of vehemence. 
 
 My wife was at my left hand, making a 
 cap for her youngest daughter^and with her 
 tortoiseshell-paper work-box before her. I 
 turned towards her, and repeated the words, 
 " It must be written in a book ! " But I 
 smiled while I was speaking, and was con- 
 scious of that sort of meaning in my eyes 
 which calls out contradiction for the pleasure 
 of sporting with it. 
 
 " Write it in a book ! " she replied, " I 
 am sure you won't;" and she looked at me 
 with a frown. Poets have written much
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 upon their ladies' frowns, but I do not re- 
 member that they have ever described the 
 thing with much accuracy. AY hen my wife 
 frowns, two perpendicular wrinkles, each 
 three quarters of an inch in length, are 
 formed in the forehead, the base of each 
 resting upon the top of the nose, and equi- 
 distant from each other. The poets have 
 also attributed dreadful effects to the frown 
 of those whom they love. I cannot say that 
 I ever experienced any thing very formidable 
 in my wife's. At present she knew her eyes 
 would give the lie to it if they looked at me 
 steadily for a moment; so they wheeled to 
 the left about quick, off at a tangent, in a 
 direction to the Bhow Begum, and then she 
 smiled. She could not prevent the smile ; 
 but she tried to make it scornful. 
 
 My wife's nephew was sitting diagonally 
 with her, and opposite his mother, on the left 
 hand of the Bhow Begum. " Oh ! " he ex- 
 claimed, " it ought to be written in a book ! 
 it will be a glorious book ! write it, uncle, I 
 beseech you ! " My wife s nephew is a sen- 
 sible lad. He reads my writings, likes my 
 stories, admires my singing, and thinks as I 
 do in politics : a youth of parts and con- 
 siderable promise. 
 
 " He will write it ! " said the Bhow Begum, 
 taking up her snuff-box, and accompanying 
 the words with a nod of satisfaction and en- 
 couragement. " He w ill never be so foolish ! " 
 said my wife. My wife's eldest sister re- 
 joined, " he is foolish enough for any thing." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. A. I. 
 
 SHOWING THAT AN AUTHOR MAT MORE 
 EASILY BE KEPT AWAKE BY HIS OWN 
 IMAGINATIONS THAN PUT TO SLEEP BY 
 THEM HIMSELF, WHATEVER MAY BE THEIR 
 EFFECT UPON HIS READERS. 
 
 Thou sleepest worse than if a mouse should be forced 
 to take up her lodging in a cat's ear : a little infant that 
 breeds its teeth, should it lie with thee, would cry out as 
 if thou wert the more unquiet bedfellow. WEBSTER. 
 
 WHEN I ought to have been asleep the 
 u unborn pages crowded on my soul." The 
 
 Chapters ante-initial and post-initial ap- 
 peared in delightful prospect "long drawn 
 out : " the beginning, the middle and the end 
 were evolved before me : the whole spread 
 itself forth, and then the parts unravelled 
 themselves and danced the hays. The very 
 types rose in judgment against me, as if 
 to persecute me for the tasks which during 
 so many years I had imposed upon them. 
 Capitals and small letters, pica and long- 
 primer, brevier and bourgeois, English and 
 nonpareil, minion and pearl, Romans and 
 Italics, black-letter and red, passed over my 
 inward sight. The notes of admiration ! ! ! 
 stood straight up in view as I lay on the one 
 side; and when I turned on the other to 
 avoid them, the notes of interrogation cocked 
 up their hump-backs ? ? ? Then came to re- 
 collection the various incidents of the event- 
 ful tale. " Visions of glory spare my aching 
 sight ! " The various personages, like spectral 
 faces in a fit of the vapours, stared at me 
 through my eyelids. The Doctor oppressed 
 me like an incubus; and for the Horse, he 
 became a perfect night-mare. " Leave me, 
 leave me to repose ! " 
 
 Twelve by the kitchen clock! still rest- 
 less ! One ! O Doctor, for one of thy com- 
 fortable composing draughts! Two! here's 
 a case of insomnolence ! I, who in summer 
 close my lids as instinctively as the daisy 
 when the sun goes down ; and who in winter 
 could hybernate as well as Bruin, were I but 
 provided with as much fat to support me 
 during the season, and keep the wick of 
 existence burning : I, who, if my pedi- 
 gree were properly made out, should be 
 found to have descended from one of the 
 Seven Sleepers, and from the Sleeping 
 Beauty in the AVood ! 
 
 I put my arms out of bed. I turned the 
 pillow for the sake of applying a cold sur- 
 face to my cheek. I stretched my feet into 
 the cold corner. I listened to the river, and 
 to the ticking of my watch. I thought of all 
 sleepy sounds and all soporific things : the 
 flow of water, the humming of bees, the 
 motion of a boat, the waving of a field of 
 corn, the nodding of a mandarine's head on 
 the chimney-piece, a horse in a mill, the
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 opera, Mr. Humdrum's conversation, Mr. 
 Proser's poems, Mr. Laxative's speeches, 
 Mr. Lengthy's sermons. I tried the device 
 of my own childhood, and fancied that the 
 bed revolved with me round and round. 
 Still the Doctor visited me as perseveringly 
 as if I had been his best patient ; and, cull 
 up what thoughts I would to keep him off, 
 the Horse charged through them all. 
 
 At last Morpheus reminded ine of Dr. 
 Torpedo's divinity lectures, where the voice, 
 the manner, the matter, even the very at- 
 mosphere, and the streamy candle-light were 
 all alike somnific ; where he who by strong 
 effort lifted up his head, and forced open 
 the reluctant eyes, never failed to see all 
 around him fast asleep. Lettuces, cowslip- 
 wine, poppy-syrup, mandragora, hop-pillows, 
 spiders-web pills, and the whole tribe of 
 narcotics, up to bang and the black drop, 
 would have failed : but this was irresistible ; 
 and thus twenty years after date I found 
 benefit from having attended the course. 
 
 CHAPTER V. A. I. 
 
 SOMETHING CONCERNING THE PHILOSOPHY OF 
 DREAMS, AND THE AUTHOR'S EXPERIENCE 
 IN AERIEL HORSEMANSHIP. 
 
 If a dream should come in now to make you afear'd, 
 With a windmill on his head and bells at his beard, 
 Would you straight wear your spectacles here at your toes, 
 And your boots on your brows and your spurs on your 
 nose? BEN JONSON. 
 
 THE wise ancients held that dreams are from 
 Jove. Virgil hath told us from what gate of 
 the infernal regions they go out, but at 
 which of the five entrances of the town of 
 Mansoul they get in John Bunyan hath not 
 explained. Some have conceited that unem- 
 bodied spirits have access to us during sleep, 
 and impress upon the passive faculty, by 
 divine permission, presentiments of those 
 things whereof it is fitting that we should be 
 thus dimly forewarned. This opinion is held 
 by Baxter, and to this also doth Bishop 
 Newton incline. The old atomists supposed 
 that the likenesses or spectres of corporeal 
 things (excuvice scilicet rerum, vel effluvia, as 
 
 they are called by Vaninus, when he takes 
 advantage of them to explain the Fata Mor- 
 gana), the atomists I say, supposed that these 
 spectral forms which are constantly emitted 
 from all bodies, 
 
 Omne genus quantum passim simulacra feruntur *, 
 
 assail the soul when she ought to be at rest ; 
 according to which theory all the lathered 
 faces that are created every morning in the 
 looking-glass, and all the smiling ones that 
 my Lord Simper and Mr. Smallwit contem- 
 plate there with so much satisfaction during 
 the day, must at this moment be floating up 
 and down the world. Others again opine, 
 as if in contradiction to those who pretend 
 life to be a dream, that dreams are realities, 
 and that sleep sets the soul free like a bird 
 from a cage. John Henderson saw the spirit 
 of a slumbering cat pass from her in pursuit 
 of a visionary mouse ; (I know not whether 
 he would have admitted the fact as an argu- 
 ment for materialism ;) and the soul of 
 Hans Engelbrecht not only went to hell, but 
 brought back from it a stench which proved 
 to all the bystanders that it had been there. 
 Faugh! 
 
 Whether then my spirit that night found 
 its way out at the nose (for I sleep with my 
 mouth shut), and actually sallied out seeking 
 adventures ; or whether the spectrum of the 
 Horse floated into my chamber; or some 
 benevolent genius or daemon assumed the 
 well-known and welcome form ; or whether 
 the dream were merely a dream, 
 
 tifui en etpirilu, dfue 
 en cnerpo, no si ; que yo 
 tola ac, que no lo st j t 
 
 so however it was that in the visions of the 
 night I mounted Nobs. Tell me not of 
 Astolfo's hippogriff, or Pacolet's wooden 
 steed; nor 
 
 Of that wonderous horse of brass 
 Whereon the Tartar King did pass ; 
 
 nor of Alborak, who was the best beast for a 
 night-journey that ever man bestrode. Tell 
 
 * LUCRETIUS. 
 
 f CALDBRON.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 me not even of Pegasus! I have ridden him 
 many a time ; by day and by night have I 
 ridden him ; high and low, far and wide, 
 round the earth, and about it, and over it, 
 and under it. I know all his earth-paces, 
 and his sky-paces. I have tried him at a 
 walk, at an amble, at a trot, at a canter, at 
 a hand-gallop, at full gallop, and at full 
 speed. I have proved him in the manege 
 with single turns and the manege with double 
 turns, his bounds, his curvets, his pirouettes, 
 and his pistes, his croupade and his balotade, 
 his gallop-galliard, and his capriole. I have 
 been on him when he has glided through the 
 sky with wings outstretched and motionless, 
 like a kite or a summer cloud ; I have be- 
 strode him when he went up like a bittern 
 with a strong spiral flight, round, round, and 
 round, and upward, upward, upward, cir- 
 cling and rising still ; and again when he has 
 gone full sail, or full fly, with his tail as 
 straight as a comet's behind him. But for a 
 hobby or a night horse, Pegasus is nothing 
 to Nobs. 
 
 Where did we go on that memorable 
 night ? What did we see ? What did we 
 do ? Or rather what did we not see ? and 
 what did we not perform ? 
 
 CHAPTER IV. A. I. 
 
 A CONVERSATION AT THE BREAKFAST TABLE. 
 
 Tel condamne man Coq-a-l'ane qui unjour en justifiera 
 e ban sent. LA PRETIEUSE. 
 
 I WENT down to breakfast as usual, over- 
 flowing with joyous thoughts. For mirth 
 and for music, the skylark is but a type of me. 
 I warbled a few wood notes wild, and then, 
 full of the unborn work, addressed myself to 
 my wife's eldest sister, and asked if she 
 would permit me to dedicate the Book to 
 her. "What book?" she replied. "The 
 History," said I, "of Doctor Daniel Dove, of 
 Doncaster, and his Horse Nobs." She an- 
 swered, " No, indeed ! I will have no such 
 nonsense dedicated to me !" and with that 
 she drew up her upper lip, and the lower 
 region of the nose. I turned to my wife's 
 
 youngest sister : " Shall I have the pleasure 
 of dedicating it to you?" She raised her 
 eyes, inclined her head forwards with a 
 smile of negation, and begged leave to de- 
 cline the honour. " Commandante," said I, 
 to my wife and Commandress, " shall I dedi- 
 cate it then to you ?" My Commandante 
 made answer, " Not unless you have some- 
 thing better to dedicate." 
 
 " So Ladies ! " said 1 ; " the stone which the 
 builders rejected," and then looking at my 
 wife's youngest sister "Oh, it will be such 
 a book!" The manner and the tone were 
 so much in earnest, that they arrested the 
 bread and butter on the way to her mouth ; 
 and she exclaimed, with her eyes full of 
 wonder and incredulity at the same time, 
 "Why, you never can be serious?" "Not 
 serious," said I; "why I have done nothing 
 but think of it and dream of it the whole 
 night." " He told me so," rejoined my 
 Commandante, "the first thing in the morn- 
 ing." "Ah, Stupey!" cried my wife's eldest 
 sister, accompanying the compliment with a 
 protrusion of the head, and an extension of 
 the lips, which disclosed not only the whole 
 remaining row of teeth, but the chasms that 
 had been made in it by the tooth drawer; 
 hiatus valde lacrymabiles. 
 
 " Two volumes," said I, " and this in the 
 title-page!" So taking out my pencil, I 
 drew upon the back of a letter the myste- 
 rious monogram, erudite in its appearance 
 as the diagamma of Mr. A. F. Valpy. 
 
 It past from hand to hand. " Why, he is not 
 in earnest;" said my wife's youngest sister. 
 " He never can be," replied my wife. And 
 yet beginning to think that peradventure I 
 was, she looked at me with a quick turn of
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 the eye, "a pretty subject, indeed, for you 
 to employ your time upon ! You, vema 
 whehaha yohu almad oteuba twandri athan- 
 cod ! " I have thought proper to translate 
 this part of my Commandaiite's speech into 
 the Garamna tongue. 
 
 CHAPTER HI. A. I. 
 
 THE UTILITY OF POCKETS. A COMPLIMEXT 
 PROPERLY RECEIVED. 
 
 La tasca e proprio cosa da Chrisliani. 
 
 BENEDETTO VARCHI. 
 
 MY eldest daughter had finished her Latin 
 lessons, and my son had finished his Greek; 
 and I was sitting at my desk, pen in hand 
 and in mouth at the same time, (a substitute 
 for biting the nails which I recommend to 
 all onygophagists), when the Bow Begum 
 came in with her black velvet reticule, sus- 
 pended as usual from her arm by its silver 
 chain. 
 
 Now, of all the inventions of the Tailor 
 (who is of all artists the most inventive), I 
 hold the pocket to be the most commodious, 
 and, saving the fig leaf, the most indispensa- 
 ble. Birds have their craw ; ruminating 
 beasts their first or ante-stomach ; the mon- 
 key has his cheek, the opossum her pouch ; 
 and, so necessary is some convenience of this 
 kind for the human animal, that the savage 
 who cares not for clothing, makes for himself 
 a pocket if he can. The Hindoo carries his 
 snutF-box in his turban. Some of the inha- 
 bitants of Congo make a secret fob in their 
 woolly toupet, of which, as P. Labat says, the 
 worst use they make is to carry poison in 
 it. The Matolas, a long-haired race, who 
 border upon the CafFres, form their locks 
 into a sort of hollow cylinder in which they 
 bear about their little implements ; certes a 
 more sensible bag than such as is worn at 
 court. The New Zealander is less inge- 
 nious ; he makes a large opening in his ear, 
 and carries his knife in it. The Ogres, who 
 are worse than savages, and whose ignorance 
 and brutality is in proportion to their bulk, 
 are said, upon the authority of tradition, 
 
 when they have picked up a stray traveller 
 or two more than, they require for their sup- 
 per, to lodge them in a hollow tooth, as a 
 place of security till breakfast ; whence it 
 may be inferred that they are not liable to 
 tooth-ache, and that they make no use of 
 tooth-picks. Ogres, savages, beasts, and 
 birds, all require something to serve the 
 purpose of a pocket. Thus much for the 
 necessity of the thing. Touching its anti- 
 quity, much might be said ; for it would not 
 be difficult to show, with that little assistance 
 from the auxiliaries must and have and been, 
 which enabled Whitaker, of Manchester, to 
 write whole quartos of hypothetical history 
 in the potential mood, that pockets are coeval 
 with clothing : and, as erudite men have 
 maintained that language and even letters 
 are of divine origin, there might with like 
 reason be a conclusion drawn from the 
 twenty-first verse of the third chapter of the 
 book of Genesis, which it would not be easy 
 to impugn. Moreover, nature herself shows 
 us the utility, the importance, nay, the in- 
 dispensability, or, to take a hint from the 
 pure language of our diplomatists, the sine- 
 quano7ininess of pockets. There is but one 
 organ which is common to all animals what- 
 soever : some are without eyes, many with- 
 out noses ; some have no heads, others no 
 tails ; some neither one nor the other ; some 
 there are who have no brains, others very 
 pappy ones ; some no hearts, others very 
 bad ones ; but all have a stomach, and 
 what is the stomach but a live inside pocket ? 
 Hath not Van Helmont said of it, " Saccus 
 vel pera est, ut ciborum olla f " 
 
 Dr. Towers used to have his coat pockets 
 made of capacity to hold a quarto volume 
 a wise custom; but requiring stout cloth, 
 good buckram, and strong thread well waxed. 
 I do not so greatly commend the humour of 
 Dr. Ingenhouz, whose coat was lined with 
 pockets of all sizes, wherein, in his latter 
 years, when science had become to him as 
 a plaything, he carried about various mate- 
 rials for chemical experiments : among the 
 rest, so many compositions for fulminating 
 powders in glass tubes, separated only by a 
 cork in the middle of the tube, that, if any
 
 G 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 person had unhappily given him a blow with 
 a stick, he might have blown up himself and 
 the Doctor too. For myself, four coat 
 pockets of the ordinary dimensions content 
 me; in these a sufficiency of conveniences 
 may be carried, and that sufficiency me- 
 thodically arranged. For mark me, gentle 
 or ungentle reader ! there is nothing like 
 method in pockets, as well as in composition : 
 and what orderly and methodical man would 
 have his pocket-handkerchief, and his pocket- 
 book, and the key of his door (if he be a 
 batehelor living in chambers), and his knife, 
 and his loose pence and half-pence, and the 
 letters which perad venture he might just 
 have received, or peradventure he may in- 
 tend to drop in the post-office, two-penny 
 or general, as he passes by, and his snuff, if 
 he be accustomed so to regale his olfactory 
 conduits, or -his tobacco-box if he prefer the 
 masticable to the pulverized weed, or his 
 box of lozenges if he should be troubled 
 with a tickling cough ; and the sugar-plumbs, 
 and the gingerbread nuts which he may be 
 carrying home to his own children, or to any 
 other small men and women upon whose 
 hearts he may have a design ; who, I say, 
 would like to have all this in chaos and con- 
 fusion, one lying upon the other, and the 
 thing which is wanted first fated alway to 
 be undermost ! (Mr. Wilberforce knows the 
 inconvenience) the snuff working its way 
 out to the gingerbread, the sugar-plumbs in- 
 sinuating themselves into the folds of the 
 pocket-handkerchief, the pence grinding the 
 lozenges to dust for the benefit of the pocket- 
 book, and the door key busily employed in 
 unlocking the letters ? 
 
 Now, forasmuch as the commutation of 
 female pockets for the reticule leadeth to 
 inconveniences like this (not to mention that 
 the very name of commutation ought to be 
 held in abhorrence by all who hold day-light 
 and fresh air essential to the comfort and 
 salubrity of dwelling-houses), I abominate 
 that bag of the Bhow Begum, notwithstand- 
 ing the beauty of the silver chain upon the 
 black velvet. And perceiving at this time 
 that the clasp of its silver setting was broken, 
 so that the mouth of the bag was gaping 
 
 pitiably, like a sick or defunct oyster, I con- 
 gratulated her as she came in upon this 
 farther proof of the commodiousness of the 
 invention ; for here, in the country, there is 
 no workman who can mend that clasp, and 
 the bag must therefore either be laid aside, 
 or used in that deplorable state. 
 
 When the Bhow Begum had seated hersfilf 
 I told her how my proffered dedication had 
 been thrice rejected with scorn, and repeat- 
 ing the offer I looked for a more gracious 
 reply. But, as if scorn had been the in- 
 fluenza of the female mind that morning, she 
 answered, " No ; indeed she would not have 
 it after it had been refused by every body 
 else." " Nay, nay," said I ; "it is as much 
 in your character to accept, as it was in 
 theirs to refuse." While I was speaking she 
 took a pinch of snuff; the nasal titillation 
 co-operated with my speech, for when any 
 one of the senses is pleased, the rest are not 
 likely to continue out of humour. " Well," 
 she replied, " I will have it dedicated to me, 
 because I shall delight in the book." And 
 she powdered the carpet with tobacco dust as 
 
 CHAPTER H. A.I. 
 
 CONCERNING DEDICATIONS, PRINTERS' TYPES, 
 AND IMPERIAL INK. 
 
 // y aura des clefs, et des ouvertures de mes secreis. 
 
 LA PBETIECSE. 
 
 MONSIEUR Dellon, having been in the In- 
 quisition at Goa, dedicated an account of 
 that tribunal, and of his own sufferings to 
 Mademoiselle du Cambout de Coislin, in 
 these words : 
 
 Mademoiselle, 
 
 J'aurois tort de me plaindre des rigueurs 
 de T Inquisition, et des mauvais traitements que 
 fay eprouvez de la part de ses ministres, 
 puisqiien me fournissant la matiere de cet 
 ouvrage, Us mont procure Tavantage de vous 
 le dedier. 
 
 This is the book which that good man 
 Claudius Buchanan with so much propriety
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 put into the hands of the Grand Inquisitor 
 of India, when he paid him a visit at the 
 Inquisition, and asked him his opinion of 
 the accuracy of the relation upon the spot ! 
 
 The Frenchman's compliment may truly 
 be said to have been far-fetched and dearly 
 bought. Heaven forefend that I should 
 either go so fur for one, or purchase it at 
 such a price ! 
 
 A dedication has oftentimes cost the 
 unhappy author a greater consumption of 
 thumb and finger nail than the whole book 
 besides, and all varieties of matter and 
 manner have been resorted to. Mine must 
 be so far in character with the delectable 
 history which it introduces, that it shall be 
 unlike all which have ever gone before it. 
 I knew a man (one he was who would have 
 been an ornament to his country if me- 
 thodisin and madness had not combined to 
 overthrow a bright and creative intellect), 
 who, in one of his insaner moods, printed a 
 sheet and a half of muddy rhapsodies with 
 the title of the " Standard of God Dis- 
 played : " and he prefaced it by saying that 
 the price of a perfect book, upon a perfect 
 subject, ought to be a perfect sum in a 
 perfect coin ; that is to say, one guinea. Now 
 as Dr. Daniel Dove was a perfect Doctor, 
 and his horse Nobs was a perfect horse, and 
 as I humbly hope their history will be a 
 perfect history, so ought the Dedication 
 thereunto to be perfect in its kind. Perfect 
 therefore it shall be, as far as kalotypo- 
 graphy can make it. For though it would 
 be hopeless to exceed all former Dedications 
 in the turn of a compliment or of a sentence, 
 in the turn of the letters it is possible to 
 exceed them all. It was once my fortune to 
 employ a printer who had a love for his art ; 
 and having a taste that way myself, we 
 discussed the merits of a new font one day 
 when I happened to call in upon him. I 
 objected to the angular inclination of a 
 capital italic A which stood upon its pins as 
 if it were starting aghast from the next 
 letter on the left, and was about to tumble 
 upon that to the right ; in which case down 
 would go the rest of the word, like a row of 
 soldiers which children make with cards. 
 
 My printer was too deeply enamoured with 
 the beauties of his font, to have either tar 
 or eye for its defects ; and hastily waving 
 that point he called my attention to a capital 
 R in the same line, which cocked up its tail 
 just as if it had been nicked; that cock of 
 the tail had fascinated him. " Look Sir," 
 said he, while his eyes glistened with all the 
 ardour of an amateur ; " look at that turn ! 
 that's sweet, Sir ! " and drawing off the 
 hand with the forefinger of which he had 
 indicated it, he described in the air the turn 
 that had delighted him, in a sort of heroic 
 flourish, his head with a diminished axis, 
 like the inner stile of a Pentegraph, follow- 
 ing the movement. I have never seen 
 that R since without remembering him. 
 
 ***, *' '**. He who can 
 
 read the stars, may read in them the secret 
 which he seeketh. 
 
 But the turns of my Dedication to the 
 Bhow Begum shall not be trusted to the 
 letter founders, a set of men remarkable for 
 involving their craft in such mystery that no 
 one ever taught it to another, every one who 
 has practised it having been obliged either 
 surreptitiously to obtain the secret, or to 
 invent a method for himself. It shall be in 
 the old English letter, not only because that 
 alphabet hath in its curves and angles, its 
 frettings and redundant lines, a sort of 
 picturesque similitude with Gothic architec- 
 ture, but also because in its breadth and 
 beauty it will display the colour of the ink 
 to most advantage. For the Dedication 
 shall not be printed in black after the 
 ordinary fashion, nor in white like the 
 Sermon upon the Excise Laws, nor in red 
 after the mode of Mr. Dibdin's half titles, 
 but in the colour of that imperial encaustic 
 ink, which by the laws of the Roman Em- 
 pire it was death for any but the Roman 
 Emperor himself to use. We Britons live 
 in a free country, wherein every man may 
 use what coloured ink seemeth good to him, 
 and put as much gall in it as he pleases, or 
 any other ingredient whatsoever. Moreover
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 this is an imperial age, in which to say 
 nothing of M. Ingelby, the Emperor of the 
 Conjurors, we have seen no fewer than four 
 new Emperors. He of Russia, who did not 
 think the old title of Peter the Great good 
 enough for him ; he of France, for whom 
 any name but that of Tyrant or Murderer 
 is too good ; he of Austria, who took up one 
 imperial appellation to cover over the humi- 
 liating manner in which he laid another 
 down ; and he of Hayti, who if he be wise 
 will order all public business to be carried 
 on in the talkee-talkee tongue, and make it 
 high treason for any person to speak or 
 write French in his dominions. We also 
 must dub our old Parliament imperial 
 forsooth! that we may not be behindhand 
 with the age. Then we have Imperial 
 Dining Tables ! Imperial Oil for nourish- 
 ing the hair ! Imperial Liquid for Boot 
 Tops! Yea, and, by all the Csosnis deified 
 and damnified, Imperial Blacking ! For 
 my part I love to go with the stream, so I 
 will have an Imperial Dedication. 
 
 Behold it, Reader. Therein is mystery. 
 
 Cijr 
 
 accumulation. To send a book like this 
 into the world without a Preface would be 
 as impossible as it is to appear at Court with- 
 out a bag at the head and a sword at the 
 tail ; for as the perfection of dress must be 
 shown at Court, so in this history should the 
 perfection of histories be exhibited. The 
 book must be omni genere absolutum ; it must 
 prove and exemplify the perfectibility of 
 books : yea, with all imaginable respect for 
 the " Delicate Investigation," which I leave 
 in undisputed possession of an appellation so 
 exquisitely appropriate, I conceive that the 
 title of THE BOOK, as a popular designation 
 Kar' eox}i-, should be transferred from the 
 edifying report of that Inquiry, to the pre- 
 sent unique, unrivalled, and unrivalable pro- 
 duction ; a production the like whereof 
 hath not been, is not, and will not be. Here 
 however let me warn my Greek and Arabian 
 translators how they render the word, that 
 if they offend the Mufti or the Patriarch, 
 the offence as well as the danger may be 
 theirs : I wash my hands of both. I write 
 in plain English, innocently and in the sim- 
 plicity of my heart : what may be made of 
 it in heathen languages concerns not me. 
 
 CHAPTER I. A. I. 
 
 NO BOOK CAN BE COMPLETE WITHOUT A 
 PREFACE. 
 
 I see no cause but men may pick their teeth, 
 Though Brutus with a sword did kill himself. - 
 
 TAYLOR, THE WATER POET. 
 
 WHO was the Inventor of Prefaces ? I shall 
 be obligejd to the immortal Mr. Urban 
 (immortal, because like the king in law he 
 never dies,) if he will propound this question 
 for me in his Magazine, that great lumber- 
 room wherein small ware of all kinds has 
 been laid up higgledy-piggledy by half- penny- 
 worths or farthing- worths at a time for four- 
 score years, till, like broken glass, rags, or 
 rubbisli, it has acquired value by mere 
 
 ANTE-PREFACE. 
 
 I here present thee with a hive of bees, laden some with 
 wax, and some with honey. Fear not to approach ! There 
 are no Wasps, there are no Hornets here. If some wanton 
 Bee should chance to buzz about thine ears, stand thy 
 ground and hold thy hands : there's none will sting thee 
 if thou strike not first. If any do, she hath honey in her 
 bag will cure thee too. QUARLES. 
 
 "PEEFACES," said Charles Blount, Gent., who 
 committed suicide because the law would 
 not allow him to marry his brother's widow, 
 (a law, be it remarked in passing, which is 
 not sanctioned by reason, and which, instead 
 of being in conformity with scripture, is in 
 direct opposition to it, being in fact the 
 mere device of a corrupt and greedy church) 
 "Prefaces," said this flippant, ill-opinioned 
 and unhappy man, "ever were, and still 
 are but of two sorts, let other modes and 
 fashions vary as they please. Let the pro-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 fane long peruke succeed the godly cropt 
 hair ; the cravat, the ruff; presbytery, po- 
 pery ; and popery presbytery again, yet still 
 the author keeps to his old and wonted 
 method of prefacing ; when at the beginning 
 of his book he enters, either with a halter 
 about his neck, submitting himself to his 
 reader's inercy whether he shall be hanged, 
 or no ; or else in a huffing manner he ap- 
 pears with the halter in his hand, and threat- 
 ens to hang his reader, if he gives him not 
 his good word. This, with ttie excitement 
 of some friends to his undertaking, and some 
 few apologies for want of time, books, and 
 the like, are the constant and usual shams 
 of all scribblers as well ancient as modern." 
 This was not true then, nor is it now ; but 
 when he proceeds to say, " for my part I 
 enter the lists upon another score," so say 
 I with him ; and my Preface shall say the 
 rest. 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Oh for a quill pluck'd from a Seraph's wing ! 
 
 YOCNG. 
 
 So the Poet exclaimed ; and his exclamation 
 may be quoted as one example more of the 
 vanity of human wishes ; for, in order to get 
 a Seraph's quill it would be necessary, ac- 
 cording to Mrs. Glasse's excellent item in 
 her directions for roasting a hare, to begin 
 by catching a Seraph. A quill from a 
 Seraph's wing is, I confess, above my ambi- 
 tion ; but one from a Peacock's tail was 
 within my reach ; and be it known unto all 
 people, nations and languages, that with a 
 Peacock's quill this Preface hath been pen- 
 ned literally truly, and bona-fidely speak- 
 ing. And this is to write, as the learned 
 old Pasquier says, pavonesquement, which in 
 Latin minted for the nonce may be rendered 
 paeomci, and in English peacockically or 
 peacockishly, whichever the reader may like 
 best. That such a pen has verily and indeed 
 been used upon this occasion I affirm. I 
 affirm it upon the word of a true man ; and 
 here is a Captain of his Majesty's Navy at 
 my elbow, who himself made the pen, and 
 
 who, if evidence were required to the fact, 
 would attest it by as round an oath as ever 
 rolled over a right English tongue. Nor 
 will the time easily escape his remembrance, 
 the bells being at this moment ringing, June 4. 
 1814, to celebrate the King's birth-day, and 
 the public notification that peace has been 
 concluded with France. 
 
 I have oftentimes had the happiness of 
 seeing due commendation bestowed by gentle 
 critics, unknown admirers and partial friends 
 upon my pen, which has been married to all 
 amiable epithets: classical, fine, powerful, 
 tender, touching, pathetic, strong, fanciful, 
 daring, elegant, sublime, beautiful. I have 
 read these epithets with that proper satis- 
 faction which, when thus applied, they could 
 not fail to impart, and sometimes qualified 
 the pride which they inspired by looking at 
 the faithful old tool of the Muses beside me, 
 worn to the stump in their service : the one 
 end mended up to the quick in that spirit 
 of economy which becomes a son of the 
 Lackland family, and shortened at the other 
 by the gradual and alternate processes of 
 burning and biting, till a scant inch only is 
 left above the finger place. Philemon Sol- 
 land was but a type of me in this respect. 
 Indeed I may be allowed to say that I have 
 improved upon his practice, or at least that 
 I get more out of a pen than he did, for in 
 the engraved title-page to his Cyrupaedia, 
 where there appears the Portrait of the 
 Interpres marked by a great D inclosing the 
 Greek letter * (which I presume designates 
 Doctor Philemon) cetatis suce 80. A. 1632, 
 it may be plainly seen that he used his pen 
 only at one end. Peradventure he delighted 
 not, as I do, in the mitigated ammoniac 
 odour. 
 
 But thou, O gentle reader, who in the 
 exercise of thy sound judgment and natural 
 benignity wilt praise this Preface, thou may- 
 est with perfect propriety bestow the richest 
 epithets upon the pen wherewith its immor- 
 tal words were first clothed in material 
 forms. Beautiful, elegant, fine, splendid, 
 fanciful, will be to the very letter of truth : 
 versatile it is as the wildest wit ; flexible as 
 the most monkey-like talent ; and shouldst
 
 10 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 thou call it tender, I will whisper in thine 
 ear that it is only too soft. Yet softness 
 may be suitable ; for of my numerous readers 
 one half will probably be soft by sex, and of 
 the other half a very considerable proportion 
 soft by nature. Soft therefore be the Pen 
 and soft the strain. 
 
 I have drawn up the window-blinds (though 
 sunshine at this time acts like snuff upon 
 the mucous membrane of my nose) in order 
 that the light may fall upon this excellent 
 Poet's wand as I wave it to and fro, making 
 cuts five and six of the broad-sword exercise. 
 Every feather of its fringe is now lit up by 
 the sun; the hues of green and gold and 
 amethyst are all brought forth ; and that 
 predominant lustre which can only be likened 
 to some rich metallic oxyd ; and that spot 
 of deepest purple, the pupil of an eye for 
 whose glorious hue neither metals nor flowers 
 nor precious stones afford a resemblance : its 
 likeness is only to be found in animated 
 life, in birds and insects whom nature seems 
 to have formed when she was most prodigal 
 of beauty * : I have seen it indeed upon the 
 sea t but it has been in some quiet bay when 
 the reflection of the land combined with the 
 sky and the ocean to produce it. 
 
 And what can be more emblematic of the 
 work which I am beginning than the splendid 
 instrument wherewith the Preface is traced ? 
 What could more happily typify the com- 
 bination of parts, each perfect in itself when 
 separately considered, yet all connected into 
 one harmonious whole; the story running 
 through like the stem or back-bone, which 
 the episodes and digressions fringe like so 
 many featherlets, leading up to that cata- 
 strophe, the gem or eye-star, for which the 
 whole was formed, and in which all terminate. 
 
 They who are versed in the doctrine of 
 sympathies and the arcana of correspond- 
 ences as revealed to the Swedish Emanuel, 
 will doubtless admire the instinct or inspira- 
 tion which directed my choice to the pavo- 
 nian Pen. The example should be followed 
 by all consumers of ink and quill. Then 
 would the lover borrow a feather from the 
 
 * " Framed in the prodigality of nature." 
 
 HiciiAitn III. 
 
 turtle dove. The lawyer would have a large 
 assortment of kite, hawk, buzzard and vul- 
 ture : his clients may use pigeon or gull. 
 
 Poets according to their varieties. Mr. , 
 
 the Tom Tit. Mr. , the Water-wag- 
 tail. Mr. , the Crow. Mr. , the 
 
 Mocking-bird. Mr. , the Magpie. Mr. 
 
 Mr. 
 
 the Sky-lark. 
 , the Swan. 
 
 Mr. 
 Lord 
 
 the Eagle. 
 , the Black 
 Owl, others the 
 
 Swan Critics some the 
 Butcher Bird. Your challenger must indite 
 with one from the wing of a game cock : he 
 who takes advantage of a privileged situation 
 to offer the wrong and shrink from the atone- 
 ment will find a white featlier. Your dealers 
 in public and private scandal, whether Jaco- 
 bins or Anti-Jacobins, the pimps and pan- 
 ders of a profligate press, should use none 
 but duck feathers, and those of the dirtiest 
 that can be found in the purlieus of Pimlico 
 or St. George's Fields. But for the Editor 
 of the Edinburgh Review, whether he dic- 
 tates in morals or in taste, or displays his 
 peculiar talent in political prophecy, he must 
 continue to use goose quills. Stick to the 
 goose, Mr. Jeffrey ; while you live, stick to 
 the Goose ! 
 
 INITIAL CHAPTER. 
 
 'E| o* Jij roc, treiJTO. HOMER. 
 
 THEY who remember the year 1800 will re- 
 member also the great controversy whether 
 it was the beginning of a century, or the 
 end of one ; a controversy in which all Maga- 
 zines, all Newspapers, and all persons took 
 part. Now as it has been deemed expedient 
 to divide this work, or to speak more empha- 
 tically this Opus, or more emphatically still 
 this Ergon, into Chapters Ante-Initial and 
 Post-Initial, a dispute of the same nature 
 might arise among the commentators in after 
 ages, if especial care were not now taken to 
 mark distinctly the beginning. This there- 
 fore, is the Initial Chapter, neither Ante nor 
 Post, but standing between both ; the point 
 of initiation, the goal of the Antes, the start- 
 ing place of the Posts; the mark at which 
 the former end their career, and from whence 
 tho latter take their departure.
 
 THE DOCTOR, 
 
 ETC. 
 
 Eccoti il libra ; mettivi ben cur a, 
 Iddio f ajuti e dia buona venlura. 
 
 OKI. INNAM. 
 
 CHAPTER I. P. L 
 
 THE SUBJECT OF THIS HISTOET AT HOME 
 AND AT TEA. 
 
 If thou be a severe sour complexioned man, then I here 
 disallow thee to be a competent judge. 
 
 IZAAK WALTON. 
 
 THE clock of St. George's had struck five. 
 Mrs. Dove had just poured out the Doctor's 
 seventh cup of tea. The Doctor was sitting 
 in his arm-chair. Sir Thomas was purring 
 upon his knees ; and Pompey stood looking 
 up to his mistress, wagging his tail, some- 
 times whining with a short note of im- 
 patience, and sometimes gently putting his 
 paw against her apron to remind her that he 
 wished for another bit of bread and butter. 
 Barnaby was gone to the farm : and Nobs 
 was in the stable. 
 
 CHAPTER H. P. I. 
 
 WHEREIN CERTAIN QUESTIONS ARE PROPOSED 
 CONCERNING TIME, PLACE, AND PERSONS. 
 
 Quit? quid? ubi? quibus auxiliisf cur? quotnodo? 
 quando? TECHNICAL VERSE. 
 
 THUS have I begun according to the most 
 approved forms ; not like those who begin 
 the Trojan War from Leda's egg, or the 
 History of Great Britain from Adam, or the 
 Life of General Washington from the Dis- 
 covery of the New World ; but in confor- 
 mity to the Horatian precept, rushing into 
 
 the middle of things. Yet the Giant Mouli- 
 neau's appeal to his friend the story-telling 
 Ram may well be remembered here ; Belter, 
 mon ami, si tu vovlois commencer par le com- 
 mencement, tu me ferois grand plaisir. For 
 in the few lines of the preceding chapter how 
 much is there that requires explanation ? 
 Who was Nobs ? Who was Barnaby ? 
 Who was the Doctor ? Who was Mrs. 
 Dove ? The place, where ? The time, 
 when ? The persons, who ? 
 
 1 maie not tell you all at once ; 
 But as I maie and can, I shall 
 By order tellen you it all. 
 
 So saith Chaucer ; and in the same mind, 
 facilius discimus qua congruo dicuntur ordine 
 quam qua sparsim et confusim, saith Erasmus. 
 Think a moment I beseech thee, Reader, 
 what order is ! Not the mere word which 
 is so often vociferated in the House of 
 Commons or uttered by the Speaker ore 
 rotundo, when it is necessary for him to 
 assume the tone of Ztrg vi|/igp/Tnc; but 
 order in its essence and truth, in itself and 
 in its derivatives. 
 
 Waving the Orders in Council, and the 
 Order of the Day, a phrase so familiar in the 
 disorderly days of the French National Con- 
 vention, think, gentle Reader, of the order of 
 Knighthood, of Holy Orders, of the orders of 
 architecture, the Linnaean orders, the orderly 
 Serjeant, the ordinal numbers, the Ordinary 
 of Newgate, the Ordinary on Sundays at 
 2 o'clock in the environs of the Metropolis, 
 the ordinary faces of those who partake of 
 what is ordinarily provided for them there ;
 
 12 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 and under the auspices of Government itself, 
 and par excellence the Extraordinary Ga- 
 zette. And as the value of health is never 
 truly and feelingly understood except in 
 sickness, contemplate for a moment what the 
 want of order is. Think of disorder in things 
 remote, and then as it approaches thee. In 
 the country wherein thou livest, bad ; in the 
 town whereof thou art an inhabitant, worse ; 
 in thine own street, worser; in thine own 
 house, worst of all. Think of it in thy 
 family, in thy fortune, in thine intestines. 
 In thy affairs, distressing ; in thy members, 
 painful ; in thy conduct, ruinous. Order is 
 the sanity of the mind, the health of the 
 body, the peace of the city, the security of 
 the state. As the beams to a house, as the 
 bones to the microcosm of man, so is order 
 to all things. Abstract it from a Dictionary, 
 and thou mayest imagine the inextricable 
 confusion which would ensue. Reject it 
 from the Alphabet, and Zerah Colburne 
 himself could not go through the chriscross 
 row. How then should I do without it in 
 this history ? 
 
 A Quaker, by name Benjamin Lay, (who 
 was a little cracked in the head though 
 sound at heart,) took one of his compositions 
 once to Benjamin Franklin that it might be 
 printed and published. Franklin, having 
 looked over the manuscript, observed that it 
 was deficient in arrangement ; it is no matter, 
 replied the author, print any part thou 
 pleasest first. Many are the speeches and 
 the sermons and the treatises and the poems 
 and the volumes which are like Benjamin 
 Lay's book ; the head might serve for the 
 tail, and the tail for the body, and the body 
 for the head, either end for the middle, 
 and the middle for either end ; nay, if you 
 could turn them inside out like a polypus, 
 or a glove, they would be no worse for the 
 operation. 
 
 When the excellent Hooker was on his 
 death-bed, he expressed his joy at the pros- 
 pect of entering a World of Order. 
 
 CHAPTER III. P. I. 
 
 WHOLESOME OBSERVATIONS LPOPJ THE 
 VANITY OF FAME. 
 
 Whosoever sh;ill address himself to write of matters of 
 instruction, or of any other argument of importance, it 
 behoveth that before he enter thereinto, he should reso- 
 lutely determine with himself in what order he will handle 
 the same ; so shall he best accomplish that he hath under- 
 taken, and inform the understanding, and help the 
 memory of the Reader. 
 
 GWILLIM'S DISPLAY or HERALDRY. 
 
 WHO was the Doctor ? 
 
 We will begin with the persons for sundry 
 reasons, general and specific. Doth not the 
 Latin grammar teach us so to do, wherein 
 the personal verbs come before the imper- 
 sonal, and the Propria qua maribus precede 
 all other nouns? Moreover by replying to 
 this question all needful explanation as to 
 time and place will naturally and of neces- 
 sity follow in due sequence. 
 
 Truly I will deliver and discourse 
 The sum of all.* 
 
 Who was the Doctor ? 
 
 Can it then be necessary to ask ? Alas 
 the vanity of human fame ! Vanity of vani- 
 ties, all is Vanity ! " How few," says Bishop 
 Jeremy Taylor, " have heard of the name of 
 Veneatapadino Ragium ! He imagined that 
 that there was no man in the world that 
 knew him not : how many men can tell me 
 that he was the King of Xarsinga ? " When 
 I mention Arba, who but the practised 
 textualist can call to mind that he was " a 
 great man among the Anakim," that he was 
 the father of Anak, and that from him Kir- 
 jath-Arba took its name ? A great man 
 ameng the Giants of the earth, the founder 
 of a city, the father of Anak ! and now 
 there remaineth nothing more of liim or his 
 race than the bare mention of them in one 
 of the verses of one of the chapters of the 
 Book of Joshua : except for that only record 
 it would not now be known that Arba had 
 ever lived, or that Hebron was originally 
 called after his name. Vanitus vanitatum! 
 Omnia vanitas. An old woman in a village 
 in the West of England was told one day
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 13 
 
 that the King of Prussia was dead, such a 
 report having arrived when the great Fre- 
 deric was in the noon-day of his glory. Old 
 Mary lifted up her great slow eyes at. the 
 news, and fixing them in the fulness of 
 vacancy upon her informant, replied, " Is a ! 
 is a ! The Lord ha' marcy ! Well, well ! 
 The King of Prussia ! And who's lie ? " 
 The " Who's he " of this old woman might 
 serve as text for a notaole sermon upon am- 
 bition. " Who's he " may now be asked of 
 men greater as soldiers in their day than 
 Frederic, or Wellington ; greater as disco- 
 verers than Sir Isaac, or Sir Humphrey. 
 Who built the Pyramids? Who ate the 
 first Oyster? Vanitas vanitatum! Omnia 
 vanitas. 
 
 Why then doth flesh, a bubble-glass of breath, 
 Hunt after honour and advancement vain, 
 
 And rear a trophy for devouring Death, 
 With so great labour and long-lasting pain, 
 As if his days for ever should remain ? 
 
 Sith all that in this world is great or gay, 
 
 Doth as a vapour vanish and decay. 
 
 Look back who list unto the former ages, 
 And call to count what is of them become ; 
 
 Whore be those learned wits and antique sages 
 Which of all wisdom knew the perfect sum ? 
 Where those great warriors which did overcome 
 
 The world with conquest of their might and main, 
 
 And made one mear * of the earth and of their reign ? t 
 
 Who was the Doctor ? 
 Oh that thou hadst known him, Reader ! 
 Then should I have answered the question, 
 
 if orally, by an emphasis upon the article, 
 
 the Doctor ; or if in written words, THE 
 DOCTOR thus giving the word that 
 capital designation to which, as the head of 
 his profession within his own orbit, he was 
 so justly entitled. But I am not writing to 
 those only who knew him, nor merely to the 
 inhabitants of the West Riding, nor to the 
 present generation alone : No ! to all York- 
 shire, all England ; all the British Empire ; 
 all the countries wherein the English tongue 
 is, or shall be, spoken or understood; yea 
 to all places, and all times to come. Para 
 todos, as saith the famous Doctor Juan Perez 
 
 * A mear 01 meer- stone, still means a boundary stone. 
 The word is used in our Homilies. See fourth part of 
 the Sermon for Rogation Week. 
 
 t SPENSER. 
 
 de Montalvan, Natural de Madrid, which is, 
 being interpreted, a Spanish Cockney 
 para todos ; porque es un aparato de varias 
 materias, donde el Filosofo, el Cortesano, el 
 Humanista, el Poeta, el Predicador, el Tea- 
 logo, el Soldado, el Devoto, el Jurisconsidto, 
 el Matematico, el Medico, el Soltero, el Ca- 
 sado, el Religioso, el Minislro, el Plebeyo, el 
 Sefior, el Oficial, y el Entretenido, hallaran 
 juntamente utilidad y gusto, erudition y diver- 
 timiento, doctrina y desahogo, recreo y ense- 
 fianza, moralidad y alivio, ciencia y descanso, 
 provecho y passatiempo, alabanzas y repre- 
 hensiones, y ultimamente exemplos y donaires, 
 que sin ofender las costumbres delecten el 
 animo, y sazonen el entendimiento. 
 
 Who was the Doctor ? 
 The Doctor was Doctor Daniel Dove. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. P. I. 
 
 BIRTH AND PARENTAGE OF DOCTOR DOVE, 
 WITH THE DESCRIPTION OF A YEOMAN'S 
 HOUSE IN THE WEST RIDING OF YORK- 
 SHIRE A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 Non possfdentem mulla vocavcris 
 Recte beatum ; rectitts occupat 
 Nomen beati, qui Deo^um 
 
 Muneribus sapienter utf, 
 Duramque collet pavperiem pati, 
 Pejusque letho fiagitium timet. 
 
 HORAT. Od. 
 
 DANIEL, the son of Daniel Dove and of 
 Dinah his wife, was born near Ingleton in 
 the West Riding of Yorkshire, on Monday 
 the twenty-second of April, old style, 1723, 
 nine minutes and three seconds after three 
 in the afternoon ; on which day Marriage 
 came in and Mercury was with the Moon ; 
 and the aspects were D Jj $ : a week 
 earlier, it would have been a most glorious 
 Trine of the Sun and Jupiter; circum- 
 stances which were all duly noted in the 
 blank leaf of the family Bible. 
 
 Daniel, the father, was one of a race of 
 men who unhappily are now almost extinct. 
 He lived upon an estate of six and twenty 
 acres which his fathers had possessed before 
 him, all Doves and Daniels, in uninterrupted 
 succession from time immemorial, farther
 
 14 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 than registers or title deeds could ascend. 
 The little church, called Chapel le Dale, 
 stands about a bow-shot from the family 
 house. There they had all been carried to 
 the font ; there they had each led his bride 
 to the altar ; and thither they had, each in 
 his turn, been borne upon the shoulders of 
 their friends and neighbours. Earth to earth 
 they had been consigned there for so many 
 generations, that half of the soil of the 
 churchyard consisted of their remains. A 
 hermit who might wish his grave to be as 
 quiet as his cell, could imagine no fitter 
 resting place. On three sides there was an 
 irregular low stone wall, rather to mark the 
 limits of the sacred ground, than to inclose 
 it; on the fourth it was bounded by the 
 brook whose waters proceed by a subter- 
 raneous channel from Wethercote cave. 
 Two or three alders and rowan trees hung 
 over the brook, and shed their leaves and 
 seeds into the stream. Some bushy hazels 
 grew at intervals along the lines of the wall ; 
 and a few ash trees, as the winds had sown 
 them. To the east and west some fields 
 adjoined it, in that state of half cultivation 
 which gives a human character to solitude : 
 to the south, on the other side the brook, 
 the common with its limestone rocks peering 
 every where above ground, extended to the 
 foot of Ingleborough. A craggy hill, fea- 
 thered with birch, sheltered it from the 
 north. 
 
 The turf was as soft and fine as that of 
 the adjoining hills; it was seldom broken, 
 so scanty was the population to which it was 
 appropriated ; scarcely a thistle or a nettle 
 deformed it, and the few tomb-stones which 
 had been placed there were now themselves 
 half buried. The sheep came over the wall 
 when they listed, and sometimes took shelter 
 in the porch from the storm. Their voices, 
 and the cry of the kite wheeling above, were 
 the only sounds which were heard there, 
 except when the single bell which hung in 
 its niche over the entrance tinkled for ser- 
 vice on the Sabbath day, or with a slower 
 tongue gave notice that one of the children 
 of the soil was returning to the earth from 
 which he sprung. 
 
 The house of the Doves was to the east of 
 the church, under the same hill, and with the 
 same brook in front ; and the intervening 
 fields belonged to the family. It was a low 
 house, having before it a little garden of 
 that size and character which showed that 
 the inhabitants could afford to bestow a 
 thought upon something more than mere 
 bodily wants. You entered between two 
 yew trees clipt to the fashion of two pawns. 
 There were hollyhocks and sunflowers dis- 
 playing themselves above the wall ; roses 
 and sweet peas under the windows, and the 
 everlasting pea climbing the porch. Over 
 the door was a stone with these letters. 
 
 D 
 D + M 
 
 A.D. 
 
 1608. 
 
 The A. was in the Saxon character. The 
 rest of the garden lay behind the house, 
 partly on the slope of the hill. It had a 
 hedge of gooseberry-bushes, a few apple- 
 trees, pot-herbs in abundance, onions, cab- 
 bages, turnips and carrots; potatoes had 
 hardly yet found their way into these re- 
 mote parts : and in a sheltered spot under 
 the crag, open to the south, were six bee- 
 hives which made the family perfectly inde- 
 pendent of West India produce. Tea was 
 in those days as little known as potatoes, 
 and for all other things honey supplied the 
 place of sugar. 
 
 The house consisted of seven rooms, the 
 dairy and cellar included, which were both 
 upon the ground floor. As you entered the 
 kitchen there was on the right one of those 
 open chimneys which afford more comfort in 
 a winter's evening than the finest register 
 stove ; in front of the chimney stood a 
 wooden bee-hive chair, and on each side 
 was a long oak seat with a back to it, the 
 seats serving as chests in which the oaten 
 bread was kept. They were of the darkest 
 brown, and well polished by constant use. 
 On the back of each were the same initials 
 as those over the door, with the date 1610 
 The great oak table, and the cnest in the 
 best kitchen which held the house-linen,
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 15 
 
 bore the same date. The chimney was well 
 hunt* with bacon, the rack which covered 
 
 O 
 
 half the ceiling bore equal marks of plenty ; 
 mutton hams were suspended from other 
 parts of the ceiling ; and there was an odour 
 of cheese from the adjoining dairy, which the 
 turf fire, though perpetual as that of the 
 Magi, or of the Vestal Virgins, did not over- 
 power. A few pewter dishes were ranged 
 above the trenchers, opposite the door, on a 
 conspicuous shelf. The other treasures of 
 the family were in an open triangular cup- 
 board, fixed in one of the corners of the best 
 kitchen, half way from the floor, and touch- 
 ing the ceiling. They consisted of a silver 
 ! saucepan, a silver goblet, and four apostle 
 spoons. Here also King Charles's Golden 
 Rules were pasted against the wall, and a 
 large print of Daniel in the Lion's Den. 
 The Lions were bedaubed with yellow, and 
 the Prophet was bedaubed with blue, with a 
 red patch upon each of his cheeks : if he had 
 been like his picture he might have fright- 
 ened the Lions ; but happily there were no 
 "judges" in the family, and it had been 
 bought for its name's sake. The other print 
 which ornamented the room had been pur- 
 chased from a like feeling, though the cause 
 was not so immediately apparent. It re- 
 presented a Ship in full sail, with Joseph, 
 and the Virgin Mary, and the Infant on 
 board, and a Dove flying behind as if to fill 
 the sails with the motion of its wings. Six 
 black chairs were ranged along the wall, 
 where they were seldom disturbed from their 
 array. They had been purchased by Daniel 
 the grandfather upon his marriage, and were 
 the most costly purchase that had ever been 
 made in the family ; for the goblet was a 
 legacy. The backs were higher than the 
 head of the tallest man when seated; the 
 seats flat and shallow, set in a round 
 frame, unaccommodating in their material, 
 more unaccommodating in shape ; the backs 
 also were of wood rising straight up, and 
 ornamented with balls and lozenges and 
 embossments; and the legs and cross bars 
 were adorned in the same taste. Over the 
 chimney were two Peacocks' feathers, some 
 of the dry silky pods of the honesty flower, 
 
 and one of those large " sinuous shells " so 
 finely thus described by Landor : 
 
 Of pearly hue 
 
 Within, and they that lustre have imbib'd 
 In the sun's palace porch ; where, when unyok'd, 
 His chariot wheel stands midway in the wave. 
 Shake one, and it awakens ; then apply 
 Its polish'd lips to your attentive ear, 
 And it remembers its august abodes, 
 And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there. 
 
 There was also a head of Indian corn there, 
 and a back scratcher, of which the hand was 
 ivory and the handle black. This had been 
 a present of Daniel the grandfather to his 
 wife. The three apartments above served 
 equally for store-rooms and bed-chambers. 
 William Dove the brother slept in one, and 
 Agatha the maid, or Haggy as she was called, 
 in another. 
 
 CHAPTER V. P. 1. 
 
 EXTENSION OF THE SCIENCE OF PHYSIOG- 
 NOMY, WITH SOME REMARKS UPON TUB 
 PRACTICAL USES OF CRANIOJLOGY. 
 
 Hanc ergo scientiam blande excipiamus, hilariterq'ue 
 amplectamur, ut vere nostrum et de nobismet ipsis trac- 
 tantem ; quam qjii non amat, quam qui non itmplectitur, 
 nee philosophiam amat, ncque sute vftee discrimina curat. 
 
 BAPTISTA PORTA. 
 
 THEY who know that the word physiognomy 
 is not derived from phiz, and infer from that 
 knowledge that the science is not confined to 
 the visage alone, have extended it to hand- 
 writings also, and hence it has become 
 fashionable in this age of collectors to collect 
 the autographs of remarkable persons. But 
 now that Mr. Rapier has arisen, " the Re- 
 former of illegible hands," he and his rival 
 Mr. Carstairs teach all their pupils to write 
 alike. The countenance however has fairer 
 play in our days than it had in old times, for 
 the long heads of the sixteenth century were 
 made by the nurses, not by nature. Elon- 
 gating the nose, flattening the temples, and 
 raising the forehead are no longer performed 
 by manual force, and the face undergoes 
 now no other artificial modelling than such 
 as may be impressed upon it by the aid of
 
 1C 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 the looking-glass. So far physiognomy be- 
 comes less difficult, the data upon which it 
 has to proceed not having been falsified ab 
 initio ; but there arises a question in what 
 state ought they to be examined ? Dr. Gall 
 is for shaving the head, and overhauling it 
 as a Turk does a Circassian upon sale, that 
 he may discover upon the outside of the skull 
 the organs of fighting, murder, cunning, and 
 thieving (near neighbours in his mappa 
 cerebri), of comparing colours, of music, of 
 sexual instinct, of philosophical judgment, 
 &c. &c., all which, with all other qualities, 
 have their latitudes and longitudes in the 
 brain, and are conspicuous upon the outward 
 skull, according to the degree in which they 
 influence the character of the individual. 
 
 It must be admitted that if this learned 
 German's theory of craniology be well 
 founded, the Gods have devised a much 
 surer, safer, and more convenient means for 
 discovering the real characters of the Lords 
 and Ladies of the creation, than what Mo- 
 mus proposed, when he advised that a window 
 should be placed in the breast. For if his 
 advice had been followed, and there had 
 actually been a window in the sternum, 
 it is, I think, beyond all doubt that a window- 
 shutter would soon have been found indis- 
 pensably necessary in cold climates, more 
 especially in England, where pulmonary com- 
 plaints are so frequent ; and, secondly, the 
 wind would not be more injurious to the 
 lungs in high latitudes, than the sun would 
 be to the liver in torrid regions ; indeed, 
 every where during summer it would be im- 
 possible to exist without a green curtain, or 
 Venetian blinds to the window ; and after 
 all, take what precautions we might, the 
 world would be ten times more bilious than 
 it is. Another great physical inconvenience 
 would also have arisen ; for if men could 
 peep into their insides at any time, and see 
 the motions and the fermentations which are 
 continually going on, and the rise and pro- 
 gress of every malady distinctly marked in 
 the changes it produced, so many nervous 
 diseases would be brought on by frequent 
 inspection, and so many derangements from 
 attempting to regulate the machine, that the 
 
 only way to prevent it from making a full 
 stop would be to put a lock upon the shutter, 
 and deliver the key to the Physician. 
 
 But upon Dr. Gall's theory how many and 
 what obvious advantages result! Nor are 
 they merely confined to the purposes of 
 speculative physiognomy ; the uses of his 
 theory as applied to practice offer to us 
 hopes scarcely less delightful than those 
 which seemed to dawn upon mankind with 
 the discovery of the gasses, and with the 
 commencement of the French Revolution, 
 and in these later days with the progress of 
 the Bible Society. In courts of Justice, for 
 instance, how beautifully would this new 
 science supply any little deficiency of evi- 
 dence upon trial ! If a man were arraigned 
 for murder, and the case were doubtful, but 
 he were found to have a decided organ for the 
 crime, it would be of little matter whether 
 he had committed the specific fact in the in- 
 dictment or not ; . for hanging, if not ap- 
 plicable as punishment, would be proper for 
 prevention. Think also in State Trials what 
 infinite advantages an Attorney General 
 might derive from the opinion of a Regius 
 Professor of Craniology ! Even these are 
 but partial benefits. Our Generals, Mi- 
 nisters, and Diplomatists would then un- 
 erringly be chosen by the outside of the 
 head, though a criterion might still be 
 wanted to ascertain when it was too thick 
 and when too thin. But the greatest ad- 
 vantages are those which this new system 
 would afford to education ; for by the joint' 
 efforts of Dr. Gall and Mr. Edgeworth we 
 should be able to breed up men according 
 to any pattern which Parents or Guardians 
 might think proper to bespeak. The Doctor 
 would design the mould, and Mr. Edgeworth, 
 by his skill in mechanics, devise with charac- 
 teristic ingenuity the best means of making 
 and applying it. As soon as the child was 
 born the professional cap, medical, military, 
 theological, commercial, or legal, would be 
 put on, and thus he would be perfectly pre- 
 pared for Mr. Edgeworth's admirable system 
 of professional education. I will pursue this 
 subject no farther than just to hint that the 
 materials of the mould may operate sympa-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 17 
 
 thetically, and therefore that for a lawyer 
 in rus the cap should be made of brass, for 
 a divine of lead, for a politician of base- 
 metal, for a soldier of steel, and for a sailor 
 of heart of English oak. 
 
 Dr. Gall would doubtless require the 
 naked head to be submitted to him for judge- 
 ment. Contrariwise I opine, and all the 
 Ladies will agree with me in this opinion, 
 that the head ought neither to be stript, nor 
 even examined in undress, but that it should 
 be taken with all its accompaniments, when 
 the owner has made the best of it, the ac- 
 companiments being not unfrequently more 
 indicative than the features themselves. 
 Long ago the question whether a man is 
 most like himself drest or undrest, was pro- 
 pounded to the British Apollo ; and it was 
 answered by the Oracle that a man of God 
 Almighty's making is most like himself when 
 undrest ; but a man of a tailor's, periwig- 
 maker's, and sempstress's making, when 
 drest. The Oracle answered rightly ; for 
 no man can select his own eyes, nose, or 
 mouth, but his wig and his whiskers are of 
 his own choosing. And to use an illustrious 
 instance, how much of character is there in 
 that awful wig which alway in its box ac- 
 companies Dr. Parr upon his visits of cere- 
 mony, that it may be put on in the hall, with 
 all its feathery honours thick upon it, not a 
 curl deranged, a hair flattened, or a particle 
 of powder wasted on the way ! 
 
 But if we would form a judgement of the 
 interior of that portentous head which is 
 thus formidably obumbrated, how could it 
 be done so well as by beholding the Doctor 
 among his books, and there seeing the food 
 upon which his terrific intellect is fed. 
 There we should see the accents, quantities, 
 dialects, digammas, and other such small 
 gear as in these days constitute the complete 
 armour of a perfect scholar ; and by thus 
 discovering what goes into the head we might 
 form a fair estimate of what was likely to 
 come out of it. This is a truth which, with 
 many others of equal importance, will be 
 beautifully elucidated in this nonpareil his- 
 toiy. For Daniel Dove, the Father, had a 
 collection of books ; they were not so nu- 
 
 merous as those of his contemporary Harley, 
 famous for his library, and infamous for the 
 Peace of Utrecht ; but he was perfectly 
 conversant with all their contents, which is 
 more than could be said of the Earl of 
 Oxford. 
 
 Reader, whether thou art man, woman, or 
 child, thou art doubtless acquainted with 
 the doctrine of association as inculcated by 
 the great Mr. Locke and his disciples. But 
 never hast thou seen that doctrine so richly 
 and so entirely exemplified as in this great 
 history, the association of ideas being, in 
 oriental phrase, the silken thread upon which 
 its pearls are strung. And never wilt thou 
 see it so clearly and delightfully illustrated, 
 not even if the ingenious Mr. John Jones 
 should one day give to the world the whole 
 twelve volumes in which he has proved the 
 authenticity of the Gospel History, by bring- 
 ing the narratives of the Four Evangelists 
 to the test of Mr. Locke's metaphysics. 
 
 " Desultoriness," says Mr. Danby, " may 
 often be the mark of a full head ; connection 
 must proceed from a thoughtful one." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. P. I. 
 
 A COLLECTION OP BOOKS NONE OF WHICH 
 ARE INCLUDED AMONGST THE PUBLICA- 
 TIONS OF ANY SOCIETY FOB THE PROMOTION 
 
 OF KNOWLEDGE RELIGIOUS OK PROFANE. 
 
 HAPPINESS IN HUMBLE LIFE. 
 
 Fflix tile animi, divisgue simillimus ipsfs, 
 Quern non mordaci resplendent gloria fuco 
 Solicit/it, nonfastosi mala gaitdia luxvs, 
 Sfd tacitos sinit ire dies, ft paupere cullu 
 Exigit innocute tranquilla silentia vitte. 
 
 POLITIAN. 
 
 HAPPILY for Daniel, he lived before the age 
 of Magazines, Reviews, Cyclopzedias, Elegant 
 Extracts and Literary Newspapers, so that 
 he gathered the fruit of knowledge for him- 
 self, instead of receiving it from the dirty 
 fingers of a retail vender. His books were 
 few in number, but they were all weighty 
 either in matter or in size. They consisted 
 of the Morte d' Arthur in the fine black- 
 letter edition of Copeland ; Plutarch's Morals
 
 IS 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 and Pliny's Natural History, two goodly 
 folios, full as an egg of meat, and both trans- 
 lated by that old worthy Philemon, who for 
 the service which he rendered to his con- 
 temporaries and to his countrymen deserves 
 to be called the best of the Hollands, without 
 disparaging either the Lord or the Doctor 
 of that appellation. The whole works of 
 Joshua Sylvester (whose name, let me tell 
 the reader in passing, was accented upon the 
 first syllable by his contemporaries, not as 
 now upon the second); Jean Petit's His- 
 tory of the Netherlands, translated and con- 
 tinued by Edward Grimeston, another 
 worthy of the Philemon order ; Sir Kenelm 
 Digby's Discourses ; Stowe's Chronicle ; 
 Joshua Barnes's Life of Edward III. ; 
 " Ripley Revived by Eirenaeus Philalethes, 
 an Englishman styling himself Citizen of the 
 World," with its mysterious frontispiece re- 
 presenting the Domus Natures, to which, Nil 
 deest, nisi clavis : the Pilgrim's Progress : 
 two volumes of Ozell's translation of Rabe- 
 lais ; Latimer's Sermons ; and the last volume 
 of Fox's Martyrs, which latter book had 
 been brought him by his wife. The Pilgrim's 
 Progress was a godmother's present to his 
 son : the odd volumes of Rabelais he had 
 picked up at Kendal, at a sale, in a lot with 
 Ripley Revived and Plutarch's Morals : the 
 others he had inherited. 
 
 Daniel had looked into all these books, 
 read most of them, and believed all that he 
 read, except Rabelais, which he could not tell 
 what to make of. He was not, however, one 
 of those persons who complacently suppose 
 every thing to be nonsense, which they do 
 not perfectly comprehend, or flatter them- 
 selves that they do. His simple heart 
 judged of books by what they ought to be, 
 little knowing what they are. It never oc- 
 curred to him that any thing would be 
 printed which was not worth printing, any 
 thing which did not convey either reasonable 
 delight or useful instruction : and he was no 
 more disposed to doubt the truth of what he 
 read, than to question the veracity of his 
 neighbour, or any one who had no interest 
 in deceiving him. A book carried with it to 
 him authority in its very aspect. The Morte 
 
 d' Arthur there fore he received for authentic 
 history, just as he did the painful chronicle 
 of honest John Stowe, and the Barnesian 
 labours of Joshua the self-satisfied : there 
 was nothing in it indeed which stirred his 
 English blood like the battles of Cressy and 
 Poictiers and Najara; yet on the whole he 
 preferred it to Barnes's story, believed in 
 Sir Tor, Sir Tristram, Sir Lancelot and Sir 
 Lamorack as entirely as in Sir John Chandos, 
 the Captal de Buche and the Black Prince, 
 and liked them better. 
 
 Latimer and Du Bartas he used some- 
 times to read aloud on Sundays ; and if the 
 departed take cognizance of what passes on 
 earth, and poets derive any satisfaction from 
 that posthumous applause which is generally 
 the only reward of those who deserve it, 
 Sylvester might have found some compensa- 
 tion for the undeserved neglect into which 
 his works had sunk, by the full and devout 
 delight which his rattling rhymes and quaint 
 collocations afforded to this reader. The 
 silver-tongued Sylvester, however, was re- 
 served for a Sabbath book ; as a week-day 
 author Daniel preferred Pliny, for the same 
 reason that bread and cheese, or a rasher of 
 hung mutton, contented his palate better 
 than a syllabub. He frequently regretted 
 that so knowing a writer had never seen or 
 heard of Wethercote and Yordas caves ; the 
 ebbing and flowing spring at Giggleswick, 
 Malham Cove, and Gordale Scar, that he 
 might have described them among the 
 wonders of the world. Omne ignotum pro 
 magnifico is a maxim which will not in all 
 cases hold good. There are things which 
 we do not undervalue because we are 
 familiar with them, but which are admired 
 the more the more thoroughly they are 
 known and understood ; it is thus with the 
 grand objects of nature and the finest works 
 of art, with whatsoever is truly great and 
 excellent. Daniel was not deficient in ima- 
 gination ; but no description of places which 
 he had never seen, however exaggerated (as 
 such things always are) impressed him so 
 strongly as these objects in his own neigh- 
 bourhood, which he had known from child- 
 hood. Three or four times in his life it had
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 19 
 
 happened that strangers with a curiosity 
 as uncommon in that age as it is general in 
 this, came from afar to visit these wonders of 
 the West Riding, and Daniel accompanied 
 them with a delight such as he never ex- 
 perienced on any other occasion. 
 
 But the Author in whom he delighted 
 most was Plutarch, of whose works he was 
 lucky enough to possess the worthier half: 
 if the other had perished Plutarch would not 
 have been a popular writer, but he would 
 have held a higher place in the estimation of 
 the judicious. Daniel could have posed a 
 candidate for university honours, and perhaps 
 the examiner too, with some of the odd 
 learning which he had stored up in his 
 memory from these great repositories of an- 
 cient knowledge. Refusing all reward for 
 such services, the strangers to whom he 
 officiated as a guide, though they perceived 
 that he was an extraordinary person, were 
 little aware how much information he had 
 acquired, and of how strange a kind. His 
 talk with them did not go beyond the sub- 
 jects which the scenes they came to visit 
 naturally suggested, and they wondered more 
 at the questions he asked, than at any thing 
 which he advanced himself. For his dispo- 
 sition was naturally shy, and that which had 
 been bashfulness in youth assumed the ap- 
 pearance of reserve as he advanced in life ; 
 for having none to communicate with upon 
 his favourite studies, he lived in an intellec- 
 tual world of his own, a mental solitude as 
 complete as that of Alexander Selkirk or 
 Robinson Crusoe. Even to the Curate his 
 conversation, if he had touched upon his 
 books, would have been heathen Greek ; and 
 to speak the truth plainly, without knowing 
 a letter of that language, he knew more about 
 the Greeks, than nine-tenths of the clergy 
 at that time, including all the dissenters, and 
 than nine-tenths of the schoolmasters also. 
 
 Our good Daniel had none of that con- 
 fidence which so usually and so unpleasantly 
 characterizes self-taught men. In fact he 
 was by no means aware of the extent of his 
 acquirements, all that he knew in this kind 
 having been acquired for amusement not for 
 use. He had never attempted to teach him- 
 
 self any thing. These books had lain in his 
 way in boyhood, or fallen in it afterwards, 
 and the perusal of them, intently as it was 
 followed, was always accounted by him to be 
 nothing more than recreation. None of his 
 daily business had ever been neglected for 
 it ; he cultivated his fields and his garden, 
 repaired his walls, looked to the stable, 
 tended his cows and salved his sheep, as 
 diligently and as contentedly as if he had 
 possessed neither capacity nor inclination for 
 any higher employments. Yet Daniel was 
 one of those men, who, if disposition and 
 aptitude were not overruled by circum- 
 stances, would have grown pale with study, 
 instead of 1 being bronzed and hardened by 
 sun and wind and rain. There were in him 
 undeveloped talents which might have raised 
 him to distinction as an antiquary, a vir- 
 tuoso of the Royal Society, a poet, or a 
 theologian, to whichever course the bias in 
 his ball of fortune had inclined. But he had 
 not a particle of envy in his composition. 
 He thought indeed that if he had had 
 grammar learning in his youth like the 
 curate, he would have made more use of it; 
 but there was nothing either of the sourness 
 or bitterness (call it which you please) of 
 repining in this natural reflection. 
 
 Never indeed was any man more con- 
 tented with doing his duty in that state of 
 life to which it had pleased God to call him. 
 And well he might be so, for no man ever 
 passed through the world with less to dis- 
 quiet or to sour him. Bred up in habits 
 which secured the continuance of that 
 humble but sure independence to which he 
 was born, he had never known what it was 
 to be anxious for the future. At the age of 
 twenty-five he had brought home a wife, the 
 daughter of a little landholder like himself, 
 with fifteen pounds for her portion : and the 
 true-love of his youth proved to him a faith- 
 ful helpmate in those years when the dream 
 of life is over, and we live in its realities. 
 If at any time there had been some alloy in 
 his happiness, it was when there appeared 
 reason to suppose that in him his family 
 would be extinct ; for though no man knows 
 what parental feelings are till he has ex-
 
 20 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 perienced them, and Daniel therefore knew 
 not the whole value of that which he had 
 never enjoyed, the desire of progeny is 
 natural to the heart of man; and though 
 Daniel had neither large estates, nor an illus- 
 trious name to transmit, it was an unwel- 
 come thought that the little portion of the 
 earth which had belonged to his fathers time 
 out of mind, should pass into the possession 
 of some stranger, who would tread on their 
 graves and his own without any regard to 
 the dust that lay beneath. That uneasy ap- 
 prehension was removed after he had been 
 married fifteen years, when to the great joy 
 of both parents, because they had long 
 ceased to entertain any hope of such an 
 event, their wishes were fulfilled in the birth 
 of a son. This their only child was healthy, 
 apt, and docile, to all appearance as happily 
 disposed in mind and body as a father's 
 heart could wish. If they had fine weather 
 for winning their hay or shearing their corn, 
 they thanked God for it; if the season 
 proved unfavourable, the labour was only a 
 little the more and the crop a little the 
 worse. Their stations secured them from 
 want, and they had no wish beyond it. What 
 more had Daniel to desire ? 
 
 The following passage in the divine Du 
 Bartus he used to read with peculiar satis- 
 faction, applying it to himself : 
 
 O thrice, thrice happy lie, who shuns the cares 
 Of city troubles, and of state-affairs ; 
 And, serving Ceres, tills with his own team, 
 His own free land, left by his friends to him ! 
 
 Never pale Envy's poisony heads do hiss 
 To gnaw his heart : nor Vulture Avarice : 
 His fields' bounds, bound his thoughts : he never sups 
 For nectar, poison mixed in silver cups ; 
 Neither in golden platters doth he lick 
 For sweet ambrosia deadly arsenic : 
 His hand's his bowl (better than plate or glass) 
 The silver brook his sweetest hippocrass : 
 Milk cheese and fruit, (fruits of his own endeavour) 
 Drest without dressing, hath he ready ever. 
 
 False counsellors (concealers of the law) 
 Turncoat attorneys that with both hands draw ; 
 Sly pettifoggers, wranglers at the bar, 
 Proud purse-leeches, harpies of Westminster 
 With feigned-chiding, and foul jarring noise, 
 Break not his brain, nor interrupt his joys ; 
 But cheerful birds chirping him sweet good-morrows 
 With nature's music do beguile his sorrows ; 
 Teaching the fragrant forests day by day 
 The diapason of their heavenly lay. 
 
 His wandering vessel, reeling to and fro 
 On th' ireful ocean (as the winds do blow) 
 With sudden tempest is not overwhurlrd, 
 To seek his sad death in another world : 
 But leading all his life at home in peace, 
 Always in sight of his own smoke, no seas 
 No other seas he knows, no other torrent, 
 Than that which waters with its silver current 
 His native meadows : and that very earth 
 Shall give him burial which Grst gave him birth. 
 
 To summon timely sleep, he doth not need 
 ^thiop's cold rush, nor drowsy poppy-seed ; 
 Nor keep in consort (as Mecsenasdid) 
 Luxurious Villains (Viols 1 should have said) ; 
 But on green carpets thrum'd with mossy bever, 
 Fringing the round skirts of his winding river, 
 The stream's mild murmur, as it gently gushes, 
 His healthy limbs in quiet slumber hushes. 
 
 Drum fife and trumpet, with their loud alarms, 
 Make him not start out of his sleep, to arms ; 
 Nor dear respect of some great General, 
 Him from his bed unto the block doth call. 
 The crested cock sings " Hunt-is-up " * to him, 
 Limits his rest, and makes him stir betime, 
 To walk the mountains and the flow'ry meads 
 Impearl'd with tears which great Aurora sheds. 
 
 Never gross air poisoned in stinking streets, 
 To choke his spirit, his tender nostril meets ; 
 But th' open sky where at full breath he lives, 
 Still keeps him sound, and still new stomach gives. 
 And Death, dread Serjeant of the Eternal Judge, 
 Conies very late to his sole-seated lodge. 
 
 CHAPTER VH. P. I. 
 
 RUSTIC PHILOSOPHY. AN EXPERIMENT UPON 
 MOONSHINE. 
 
 Quicn comicnza enjuvenlud 
 A bfen obrar, 
 Setlal es dc no errar 
 En senetud. 
 
 Proverbios del Marques de Santillana. 
 
 IT is not, however, for man to rest in abso- 
 lute contentment. He is born to hopes and 
 aspirations as the sparks fly upward, unless 
 he has brutified his nature and quenched 
 the spirit of immortality which is his por- 
 tion. Having nothing to desire for himself, 
 Daniel's ambition had taken a natural direc- 
 tion and fixed upon his son. He was resolved 
 that the boy should be made a scholar ; not 
 with the prospect of advancing him in the 
 
 * See Drayton's Poems, and Nare's Gloss, in v. 
 
 J. If. (('.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Jl 
 
 world, but in the hope that he might become 
 a philosopher, and take as much delight in 
 the books which he would inherit as his 
 father had done before him. Riches and rank 
 and' power appeared in his judgment to be 
 nothing when compared to philosophy ; and 
 herein he was as true a philosopher as if he 
 had studied in the Porch, or walked the 
 groves of Academus. 
 
 It was not however for this, for he was 
 as little given to talk of his opinions as to 
 display his reading, but for his retired 
 habits, and general character, and-some odd 
 practices into which his books had led him, 
 that he was commonly called Flossofer 
 Daniel by his neighbours. The appellation 
 was not affixed in derision, but respectfully 
 and as his due ; for he bore his faculties too 
 meekly ever to excite an envious or an ill- 
 natured feeling in any one. Rural Flossofers 
 were not uncommon in those days, though 
 in the progress of society they have dis- 
 appeared like Crokers, Bowyers, Lorimers, 
 Armourers, Running Footmen, and other 
 descriptions of men whose occupations are 
 gone by. But they were of a different order 
 from our Daniel. They were usually Phi- 
 lomaths, Students in Astrology, or the 
 Coelestial Science, and not unfrequently 
 Empirics or downright Quacks. Between 
 twenty and thirty almanacs used to be pub- 
 lished every year by men of this description, 
 some of them versed enough in mathematics 
 to have done honour to Cambridge, had the 
 fates allowed ; and others such proficients in 
 roguery, that they would have done equal 
 honour to the whipping-post. 
 
 A man of a different stamp from either 
 came in declining life to settle at Ingleton 
 in the humble capacity of schoolmaster, a 
 little before young Daniel was capable of 
 more instruction than could be given him 
 at home. Richard Guy was his name ; he 
 is the person to whom the lovers of old 
 rhyme are indebted for the preservation of 
 the old poem of Flodden Field, which he 
 transcribed from an ancient manuscript, and 
 which was printed from his transcript by 
 Thomas Gent of York. In his way through 
 the world, which had not been along the 
 
 King's high Dunstable road, Guy had picked 
 up a competent share of Latin, a little Greek, 
 some practical knowledge of physic, and 
 more of its theory; astrology enough to 
 cast a nativity, and more acquaintance with 
 alchemy than has often been possessed by 
 one who never burnt his fingers in its pro- 
 cesses. These acquirements were grafted 
 on a disposition as obliging as it was easy ; 
 and he was beholden to nature for an under- 
 standing so clear and quick that it might 
 have raised him to some distinction in the 
 world if he had not been under the influence 
 of an imagination at once lively and credu- 
 lous. Five and fifty years had taught him 
 none of the world's wisdom; they had sobered 
 his mind without maturing it ; but he had a 
 wise heart, and the wisdom of the heart is 
 worth all other wisdom. 
 
 Daniel was too far advanced in life to fall 
 in friendship ; he felt a certain degree of 
 attractiveness in this person's company ; 
 there was, however, so much of what may 
 better be called reticence than reserve in his 
 own quiet habitual manners, that it would 
 have been long before their acquaintance 
 ripened into any thing like intimacy, if an 
 accidental circumstance had not brought out 
 the latent sympathy which on both sides 
 had till then rather been apprehended than 
 understood They were walking together 
 one day when young Daniel, who was then 
 in his sixth year, looking up in his father's 
 face, proposed this question : "Will it be any 
 harm, Father, if I steal five beans when next 
 I go into Jonathan Dowthwaites, if I can do 
 it without any one's seeing me ? " 
 
 "And what wouldst thou steal beans for?" 
 was the reply, " when any body would give 
 them to thee, and when thou knowest there 
 are plenty at home ? " 
 
 "But it won't do to have them given, 
 Father," the boy replied. " They are to 
 charm away my warts. Uncle William says 
 I must steal five beans, a bean for every 
 wart, and tie them carefully up in paper, 
 and carry them to a place where two roads 
 cross, and then drop them, and walk away 
 without ever once looking behind me. And 
 then the warts will go away from me, and
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 come upon the hands of the person that 
 picks up the beans." 
 
 "Nay boy," the Father made answer; 
 " that charm was never taught by a white 
 witch ! If thy warts are a trouble to thee, 
 they would be a trouble to any one else ; 
 and to get rid of an evil from ourselves 
 Daniel, by bringing it upon another, is 
 against our duty to our neighbour. Have 
 nothing to do with a charm like that ! " 
 
 " May I steal a piece of raw beef then," 
 rejoined the boy, " and rub the warts with 
 it and bury it ? For Uncle says that will 
 do, and as the beef rots, so the warts will 
 waste away." 
 
 " Daniel," said the Father, " those can be 
 no lawful charms that begin with stealing ; 
 I could tell thee how to cure thy warts in a 
 better manner. There is an infallible way, 
 which is by wasliing the hands in moonshine, 
 but then the moonshine must be caught in a 
 bright silver basin. You wash and wash in 
 the basin, and a cold moisture will be felt 
 upon the hands, proceeding from the cold 
 and moist rays of the moon." 
 
 " But what shall we do for a silver basin ? " 
 said little Daniel. 
 
 The Father answered, " a pewter dish 
 might be tried if it were made very bright ; 
 but it is not deep enough. The brass kettle 
 perhaps might do better." 
 
 " Nay," said Guy, who had now begun to 
 attend with some interest, " the shape of a 
 kettle is not suitable. It should be a con- 
 cave vessel, so as to concentrate the rays. 
 Joshua Wilson I dare say would lend his 
 brass basin, which he can very well spare at 
 the hour you want it, because nobody comes 
 to be shaved by moonlight. The moon rises 
 early enough to serve at this time. If you 
 come in this evening at six o'clock I will 
 speak to Joshua in the mean time, and have 
 the basin as bright and shining as a good 
 scouring can make it. The experiment is 
 curious and I should like to see it tried. 
 Where Daniel didst thou learn it ? " "I 
 read it," replied Daniel, " in Sir Kenelm 
 Digby's Discourses, and he says it never 
 fails." 
 
 Accordingly the parties met at the ap- 
 
 pointed hour. Mambrino's helmet, when 
 new from the armourer's, or when furbished 
 for a tournament, was not brighter than Guy 
 had rendered the inside of the barber's 
 basin. Schoolmaster, Father and Son' re- 
 tired to a place out of observation, by the 
 side of the river, a wild stream tumbling 
 among the huge stones which it had brought 
 down from the hills. On one of these stones 
 sate Daniel the elder, holding the basin in 
 such an inclination toward the moon that 
 there should be no shadow in it ; Guy di- 
 rected the boy where to place himself so as 
 not to intercept the light, and stood looking 
 complacently on, while young Daniel re- 
 volved his hands one in another within the 
 empty basin, as if washing them. " I feel 
 them cold and clammy, Father ! " said the 
 boy. (It was the beginning of November) 
 " Ay," replied the father, " that's the cold 
 moisture of the moon ! " " Ay ! " echoed 
 the schoolmaster, and nodded his head in 
 confirmation. 
 
 The operation was repeated on the two 
 following nights ; and Daniel would have 
 kept up his son two hours later than his 
 regular time of rest to continue it on the 
 third if the evening had not set in with 
 clouds and rain. In spite of the patient's 
 belief that the warts would waste away and 
 were wasting, (for Prince Hohenlohe could 
 not require more entire faith than was given 
 on this occasion,) no alteration could be per- 
 ceived in them at a fortnight's end. Daniel 
 thought the experiment had failed because 
 it had not been repeated sufficiently often, 
 nor perhaps continued long enough. But 
 the Schoolmaster was of opinion that the 
 cause of failure was in the basin : for that 
 silver being the lunar metal would by 
 affinity assist the influential virtues of the 
 moonlight, which finding no such affinity in 
 a mixed metal of baser compounds, might 
 contrariwise have its potential qualities 
 weakened, or even destroyed when received 
 in a brasen vessel, and reflected from it. 
 Flossofer Daniel assented to this theory. 
 Nevertheless as the child got rid of his 
 troublesome excrescences in the course of 
 three or four months, all parties disregard-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 23 
 
 ing the lapse of time at first, and afterwards 
 fairly forgetting it, agreed that the remedy 
 had been effectual, and Sir Kenelin, if he 
 had been living, might have procured the 
 solemn attestation of men more veracious 
 than himself that moonshine was an infal- 
 lible cure for warts. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. P. I. 
 
 A KIND SCHOOLMASTER AND A HAPPY 
 SCHOOLBOY. 
 
 Though happily thou wilt say that wands be to be 
 wrought when they are green, lest they rather break than 
 bend when they be dry, yet know also that he that 
 bendeth a twig because he would see if it would bow by 
 strength may chance to have a crooked tree when he 
 would have a straight. ECPHLES. 
 
 FROM this time the two Flossofers were 
 friends. Daniel seldom went to Ingleton 
 without looking in upon Guy, if it were 
 between school hours. Guy on his part 
 would walk as far with him on the way 
 back, as the tether of his own time allowed, 
 and frequently on Saturdays and Sundays 
 he strolled out and took a seat by Daniel's 
 fireside. Even the wearying occupation of 
 hearing one generation of urchins after 
 another repeat a-b-ab, hammering the first 
 rules of arithmetic into leaden heads, and 
 pacing like a horse in a mill the same dull 
 dragging round day after day, had neither 
 diminished Guy's good-nature, nor lessened 
 his love for children. He had from the first 
 conceived a liking for young Daniel, both be- 
 cause of the right principle which was evinced 
 by the manner in which he proposed the 
 question concerning stealing the beans, and 
 of the profound gravity (worthy of a Flos- 
 sofer's son) with which he behaved in the 
 affair of the moonshine. All that he saw 
 and heard of him tended to confirm this 
 favourable prepossession ; and the boy, who 
 had been taught to read in the Bible and in 
 Stowe's Chronicle, was committed to his 
 tuition at seven years of age. 
 
 Five days in the week (for in the North 
 of England Saturday as well as Sunday is 
 a Sabbath to the Schoolmaster) did young 
 
 Daniel, after supping his porringer of oat- 
 meal pottage, set off to school, with a little 
 basket containing his dinner in his hand. 
 This provision usually consisted of oat-cake 
 and cheese, the latter in goodly proportion, 
 but of the most frugal quality, whatever 
 cream the milk afforded having been con- 
 signed to the butter tub. Sometimes it was 
 a piece of cold bacon or of cold pork ; and in 
 winter there was the luxury of a shred pie, 
 which is a coarse north country edition of 
 the pie abhorred by puritans. The distance 
 was in those days called two miles; but 
 miles of such long measure that they were 
 for him a good hour's walk at a cheerful 
 pace. He never loitered on the way, being 
 at all times brisk in his movements, and 
 going to school with a spirit as light as when 
 he returned from it, like one whose blessed 
 lot it was never to have experienced, and 
 therefore never to stand in fear of severity 
 or unkindness. For he was not more a 
 favourite with Guy for his docility, and 
 regularity and diligence, than he was with 
 his schoolfellows for his thorough good- 
 nature and a certain original oddity of 
 humour. 
 
 There are some boys who take as much 
 pleasure in exercising their intellectual 
 faculties, as others do when putting forth 
 the power of arms and legs in boisterous 
 exertion. Young Daniel was from his 
 childhood fond of books. William Dove 
 used to say he was a chip of the old block ; 
 and this hereditary disposition was regarded 
 with much satisfaction by both parents, 
 Dinah having no higher ambition nor better 
 wish for her son, than that he might prove 
 like his father in all things. This being the 
 bent of his nature, the boy having a kind 
 master as well as a happy home, never 
 tasted of what old Lily calls (and well might 
 call) the wearisome bitterness of the scholar's 
 learning. He was never subject to the 
 brutal discipline of the Udals and Busbys 
 and Bowyers, and Parrs, and other less no- 
 torious tyrants who have trodden in their 
 steps ; nor was any of that inhuman injustice 
 ever exercised upon him to break his spirit, 
 for which it is to be hoped Dean Colet has
 
 24 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 paid in Purgatory ; to be hoped, I say, 
 because if there be no Purgatory, the Dean 
 may have gone farther and fared worse. 
 Being the only Latiner in the school, his 
 lessons were heard with more interest and 
 less formality. Guy observed his progress 
 with almost as much delight and as much 
 hope as Daniel himself. A schoolmaster 
 who likes his vocation feels toward the 
 boys who deserve his favour something 
 like a thrifty and thriving father toward 
 the children for whom he is scraping 
 together wealth ; he is contented that his 
 humble and patient industry should produce 
 fruit not for himself, but for them, and looks 
 with pride to a result in which it is im- 
 possible for him to partake, and which in all 
 likelihood he may never live to see. Even 
 some of the old Phlebotomists have had this 
 feeling to redeem them. 
 
 " Sir," says the Compositor to the Cor- 
 rector of the Press, "there is no heading 
 in the Copy for this Chapter. What must I 
 do?" 
 
 "Leave a space for it," the Corrector 
 replies. " It is a strange sort of book ; but 
 I dare say the Author has a reason for every 
 thing that he says or does, and most likely 
 you will find out his meaning as you set 
 up."^ 
 
 Right, Mr. Corrector ! you are a judicious 
 person, free from the common vice of finding 
 fault with what you do not understand. My 
 meaning will be explained presently. And 
 having thus prologized, we will draw a line 
 if you please, and begin. 
 
 TEN measures of garrulity, says the Talmud, 
 were sent down upon the earth, and the 
 women took nine. 
 
 I have known in my time eight terrific 
 talkers ; and five of them were of the mas- 
 culine gender. 
 
 But supposing that the Rabbis were right 
 in allotting to the women a ninefold propor- 
 
 tion of talkativeness, I confess that I have 
 inherited my mother's share. 
 
 I am liberal of my inheritance, and the 
 Public shall have the full benefit of it. 
 
 And here if my gentle Public will consider 
 to what profitable uses this gift might have 
 been applied, the disinterestedness of my 
 disposition in having thus benevolently de- 
 dicated it to their service, will doubtless be 
 appreciated as it deserves by their discrimi- 
 nation and generosity. Had I carried it to 
 the pulpit, think how I might have filled the 
 seats, and raised the prices of a private 
 chapel ! Had I taken it to the bar, think 
 how I could have mystified a judge, and 
 bamboozled a jury ! Had I displayed it in 
 the senate, think how I could have talked 
 against time, for the purpose of delaying a 
 division, till the expected numbers could be 
 brought together ; or how efficient a part I 
 could have borne in the patriotic design of 
 impeding the business of a session, prolong- 
 ing and multiplying the debates, and worry- 
 ing a minister out of his senses and his life. 
 
 Diis aliter visum. I am what I was to 
 be, what it is best for myself that I should 
 be, and for you, my Public, also. The 
 rough-hewn plans of my destination have 
 been better shaped for me by Providence 
 than I could have shaped them for myself. 
 
 But to the purpose of this chapter, which 
 is as headless as the Whigs Observe, my 
 Public, I have not said as brainless. . . If it 
 were, the book would be worth no more 
 than a new Tragedy of Lord Byron's ; or an 
 old number of Mr. Jeffrey's Review, when 
 its prophecies have proved false, its blunders 
 have been exposed, and its slander stinks. 
 
 Every thing here shall be in order. The 
 digressions into which this gift of discourse 
 may lead me must not interrupt the arrange- 
 ment of our History. Never shall it be 
 said of the Unknown that " he draweth out 
 the thread of his verbosity finer than the 
 staple of his argument." We have a journey 
 to perform from Dan to Beersheba, and we 
 must halt occasionally by the way. Matter 
 will arise contingent to the story, correlative 
 to it, or excrescent from it ; not necessary 
 to its progress, and yet indispensable for
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 25 
 
 your delight, my gentle Public, and for mine 
 own ease. My Public would not have me 
 stifle the afflatus when I am labouring with 
 it, and in the condition of Elihu as described 
 by himself in the 18th and 19th verses of 
 the xxxii. chapter of the book of Job. 
 
 Quemadmodum ccelator oculos dm intentos 
 acfatigatos remittit atque avocat, et, ut did 
 solet, pascit ; sic nos animum aliquando debe- 
 mus relaxare et quibusdam oblectamentis re- 
 ficere, Sed ipsa ollectamenta opera sint ; ex 
 his quoque si observaveris, sumes quod possit 
 fieri salutare.* 
 
 But that the beautiful structure of this 
 history may in no wise be deranged, such 
 matter shall be distributed into distinct 
 chapters in the way of intercalation ; a 
 device of which as it respects the year, 
 Adam is believed to have been the inventor; 
 but according to the Author of the book of 
 Jalkut, it was only transmitted by him to 
 his descendants, being one of the things 
 which he received by revelation. 
 
 How then shall these Chapters be annomi- 
 nated? Intercalary they shall not. That 
 word will send some of my readers to John- 
 son's Dictionary for its meaning ; and others 
 to Sheridan, or Walker for its pronuncia- 
 tion. Besides, I have a dislike to all mongrel 
 words, and an especial dislike for strange 
 compounds into which a preposition enters. 
 I owe them a grudge. They make one of 
 the main difficulties in Greek and German. 
 
 From our own Calendars we cannot 
 borrow an appellation. In the Republican 
 one of our neighbours, when the revolu- 
 tionary fever was at its height, the supple- 
 mental days were called Sans-culottedes. The 
 Spaniards would call them Dias Descami- 
 sados. The holders of liberal opinions in 
 England would term them Radical Days. 
 A hint might be taken hence, and we might 
 name them radical chapters, as having the 
 root of the matter in them ; or ramal, if 
 there were such a word, upon the analogy 
 of the Branch Bible societies. Or ramage 
 as the king of Cockayne hath his Foliage. 
 But they would not be truly and philosophi- 
 
 * SENKCA, Epist. 58. 
 
 cally designated by these names. They are 
 not branches from the tree of this history, 
 neither are they its leaves ; but rather choice 
 garlands suspended there to adorn it on 
 festival days. They may be likened to the 
 waste weirs of a canal, or the safety valves 
 of a steam engine ; (my gentle Public would 
 not have me stifle the afflatus /) interludes ; 
 symphonies between the "acts ; volun- 
 taries during the service ; resting places 
 on the ascent of a church tower ; angular 
 recesses of an old bridge, into which foot 
 passengers may retire from carriages or 
 horsemen ; houses-of-call upon the road ; 
 seats by the way side, such as those which 
 were provided by the Man of Ross, or the 
 not less meritorious Woman of Chippenhain, 
 Maud Heath of Langley Burrel, Hospices 
 on the passages of the Alps, Capes of 
 Good Hope, or Isles of St. Helena, yea, 
 Islands of Tinian or Juan Fernandez, upon 
 the long voyage whereon we are bound. 
 
 Leap-chapters they cannot properly be 
 called ; and if we were to call them Ha 
 Has ! as being chapters which the Reader 
 may leap if he likes, the name would appear 
 rather strained than significant, and might 
 be justly censured as more remarkable for 
 affectation than for aptness. For the same 
 reason I reject the designation of Inter- 
 means, though it hath the sanction of great 
 Ben's authority. 
 
 Among the requisites for an accomplished 
 writer Steele enumerates the skill whereby 
 common words are started into new signifi- 
 cations. I will not presume so far upon that 
 talent ( modesty forbids me ) as to call 
 these intervening chapters either Interpella- 
 tions or Interpositions, or Interlocations, or 
 Intervals. Take this, Reader, for a general 
 rule, that the readiest and plainest style is 
 the most forcible (if the head be but pro- 
 perly stored ;) and that in all ordinary cases 
 the word which first presents itself is the 
 best ; even as in all matters of right and 
 wrong, the first feeling is that which the 
 heart owns and the conscience ratifies. 
 
 But for a new occasion, a new word or a 
 new composite must be formed. Therefore 
 I will strike one in the mint of analogy, in
 
 26 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 which alone the king's English must be 
 coined, and call them Interchapters and 
 thus endetli 
 
 INTERCHAPTER I. 
 
 REMARKS IN THE PRINTING OFFICE. THE 
 AUTHOR CONFESSES A DISPOSITION TO 
 GARRULITY. PROPRIETY OF PROVIDING 
 CERTAIN CHAPTERS FOR THE RECEPTION 
 OF HIS EXTRANEOUS DISCOURSE. CHOICE 
 OF AN APPEI^LATION FOR SUCH CHAPTERS. 
 
 Perque vices aliquid, quod tempora longa videri 
 Non tinat, in medium vacua* refer amus ad auret. 
 
 OVID. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. P. 1. 
 
 EXCEPTIONS TO ONE OF KING SOLOMON'S 
 RULES A WINTER'S EVENING AT DANIEL'S 
 FIRESIDE. 
 
 These are my thoughts ; I might have spun them out 
 into a greater length, but I think a little plot of ground, 
 thick sown, is better than a great field which, for the 
 most part of it, lies fallow. NORMS. 
 
 " TRAIN up a child in the way he should 
 go, and when he is old his feet will not 
 depart from it." Generally speaking it will 
 be found so ; but is there any other rule to 
 which there are so many exceptions ? 
 
 Ask the serious Christian as he calls him- 
 self, or the Professor (another and more 
 fitting appellative which the Christian Pha- 
 risees have chosen for themselves) ask 
 him whether he has found it hold good? 
 Whether his sons when they attained to 
 years of discretion (which are the most in- 
 discreet years in the course of human life) 
 have profited as he expected by the long 
 extemporaneous prayers to which they lis- 
 tened night and morning, the sad sabbaths 
 which they were compelled to observe, and 
 the soporific sermons which closed the do- 
 mestic religiosities of those melancholy days? 
 Ask him if this discipline has prevented 
 them from running headlong into the follies 
 and vices of the age ? from being birdlimed 
 by dissipation ? or caught in the spider's 
 web of sophistry and unbelief? "It is no 
 doubt a true observation," says Bishop 
 
 Patrick*, " that the ready way to make the 
 minds of youth grow awry, is to lace them too 
 hard, by denying them their just freedom." 
 
 Ask the old faithful servant of Mammon, 
 whom Mammon has rewarded to his heart's 
 desire, and in whom the acquisition of riches 
 has only increased his eagerness for acquir- 
 ing more ask him whether he has suc- 
 ceeded in training up his heir to the same 
 service ? He will tell you that the young 
 man is to be found upon race-grounds, and 
 in gaming-houses, that he is taking his swing 
 of extravagance and excess, and is on the 
 high road to ruin. 
 
 Ask the wealthy Quaker, the pillar of the 
 meeting most orthodox in heterodoxy, 
 who never wore a garment of foi'bidden cut 
 or colour, never bent his body in salutation, 
 or his knees in prayer, never uttered the 
 heathen name of a day or month, nor ever 
 addressed himself to any person without 
 religiously speaking illegitimate English, 
 ask him how it has happened that the tailor 
 has converted his sons ? He will fold his 
 hands, and twirl his thumbs mournfully in 
 silence. It has not been for want of train- 
 ing them in the way wherein it was his wish 
 that they should go. 
 
 You are about, Sir, to send your son to 
 a public school ; Eton or Westminster ; 
 Winchester or Harrow ; Rugby or the 
 Charter House, no matter which. He may 
 come from either an accomplished scholar 
 to the utmost extent that school education 
 can make him so ; he may be the better 
 both for its discipline and its want of disci- 
 pline ; it may serve him excellently well as 
 a preparatory school for the world into 
 which he is about to enter. But also he 
 may come away an empty coxcomb or a 
 hardened brute a spendthrift a profli- 
 gate a blackguard or a sot. 
 
 To put a boy in the way he should go, is like 
 sending out a ship well found, well manned 
 and stored, and with a careful captain ; but 
 there are rocks and shallows in her course, 
 
 * Fuller has the same remark in his notes on Jonah. 
 " As for cards to play with, let us not wholly condemn 
 them, lest lacing our consciences too straight, we make 
 them to grow awry on the wrong side." p. 40.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 27 
 
 winds and currents to be encountered, and 
 all the contingencies and perils of the sea. 
 
 How often has it been seen that sons, not 
 otherwise deficient in duty toward their 
 parents, have, in the most momentous con- 
 cerns of life, taken the course most opposite 
 to that in which they were trained to go, 
 going wrong where the father would have 
 directed them aright, or taking the right 
 path in spite of all inducements and endea- 
 vours for leading them wrong ! The son of 
 Charles Wesley, born and bred in Me- 
 thodism and bound to it by all the strongest 
 ties of pride and prejudice, became a papist. 
 This indeed was but passing from one erro- 
 neous persuasion to another, and a more in- 
 viting one. But Isaac Casaubon also had 
 the grief of seeing a son seduced into the 
 Romish superstition, and on the part of that 
 great and excellent man, there had been no 
 want of discretion in training him, nor of 
 sound learning and sound wisdom. Arch- 
 bishop Leighton, an honour to his church, 
 his country, and his kind", was the child of 
 one of those firebrands who kindled the 
 Great Rebellion. And Franklin had a son, 
 who notwithstanding the example of his 
 father (and such a father !) continued sted- 
 fast in his duty as a soldier and a subject ; 
 he took the unsuccessful side but 
 
 ^ nunquam successu crescat honestum.* 
 
 No such disappointment was destined to 
 befal our Daniel. The way in which he 
 trained up his son was that into which the 
 bent of the boy's own nature would have led 
 him ; and all circumstances combined to 
 favour the tendency of his education. The 
 country abounding in natural objects of sub- 
 limity and beauty (some of these singular in 
 their kind) might have impressed a duller 
 imagination than had fallen to his lot ; and 
 that imagination had time enough for its 
 workings during his solitary walks to and 
 from school morning and evening. His 
 home was in a lonely spot ; and having nei- 
 ther brother nor sister, nor neighbours near 
 enough in any degree to supply their place 
 as playmates, he became his father's com- 
 
 * LUCAN. 
 
 panion imperceptibly as he ceased to be his 
 fondling. And the effect was hardly less 
 apparent in Daniel than in the boy. He 
 was no longer the same taciturn person as 
 of yore ; it seemed as if his tongue had been 
 loosened, and when the reservoirs of his 
 knowledge were opened they flowed freely. 
 Their chimney corner on a winter's even- 
 ing presented a group not unworthy of Sir 
 Joshua's pencil. There sate Daniel, richer 
 in marvellous stories than ever traveller 
 who in the days of mendacity returned from 
 the East ; the peat fire shining upon a coun- 
 tenance which weather-hardened as it was, 
 might have given the painter a model for a 
 Patriarch, so rare was the union which it 
 exhibited of intelligence, benevolence and 
 simplicity. There sate the boy with open 
 eyes and ears, raised head, and fallen lip, in 
 all the happiness of wonder and implicit 
 belief. There sate Dinah, not less proud of 
 her husband's learning than of the towardly 
 disposition and promising talents of her son, 
 twirling the thread at her spinning-wheel, 
 but attending to all that past; and when 
 there was a pause in the discourse, fetching 
 a deep sigh, and exclaiming, "Lord bless 
 us ! what wonderful things there are in the 
 world!" There also sate Haggy, knitting 
 stockings, and sharing in the comforts and 
 enjoyments of the family when the day's 
 work was done. And there sate William 
 Dove; but William must have a chapter 
 to himself. 
 
 CHAPTER X. P. I. 
 
 ONE WHO WAS NOT SO WISE AS HIS FRIENDS 
 COULD HAVE WISHED, AND YET QUITE AS 
 HAPPY AS IF HE HAD BEEN WISER. NE- 
 POTISM NOT CONFINED TO POPES. 
 
 There are of madmen as there are of tame, 
 
 All humoured not alike. Some 
 
 Apish and fantastic ; 
 
 And though 'twould grieve a soul to see God's image 
 
 So blemished and defaced, yet do they act 
 
 Such antic and such pretty lunacies, 
 
 That spite of sorrow, they will make you smile. 
 
 DEKKER. 
 
 WILLIAM DOVE was Daniel's only surviving 
 brother, seven years his junior. He was
 
 28 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 born with one of those heads in which 
 the thin partition that divides great wits 
 from folly is wanting. Had he come into 
 the world a century sooner, he would have 
 been taken nolens volens into some Baron's 
 household, to wear motley, make sport for 
 the guests and domestics, and live in fear of 
 the rod. But it was his better fortune to 
 live in an age when this calamity rendered 
 him liable to no such oppression, and to be 
 precisely in that station which secured for 
 him all the enjoyments of which he was 
 capable, and all the care he needed. In 
 higher life, he would probably have been 
 consigned to the keeping of strangers who 
 would have taken charge of him for pay ; in 
 a humbler degree he must have depended 
 upon the parish for support; or have been 
 made an inmate of one of those moral lazar- 
 houses in which age and infancy, the harlot 
 and the idiot, the profligate and the unfor- 
 tunate are herded together. 
 
 William Dove escaped these aggravations 
 of calamity. He escaped also that persecu- 
 tion to which he would have been exposed 
 in populous places where boys run loose in 
 packs, and harden one another in impudence, 
 mischief and cruelty. Natural feeling, when 
 natural feeling is not corrupted, leads men 
 to regard persons in his condition with a 
 compassion not unmixed with . awe. It is 
 common with the country people when they 
 speak of such persons to point significantly 
 at the head and say 'tis not all there; 
 words denoting a sense of the mysterious- 
 ness of our nature which perhaps they feel 
 more deeply on this than on any other occa- 
 sion. No outward and visible deformity 
 can make them so truly apprehend how fear- 
 fully and wonderfully we are made. 
 
 William Dove's was not a case of fatuity. 
 Though all was not there, there was a great 
 deal. He was what is called half-saved. 
 Some of his faculties were more than ordi- 
 narily acute, but the power of self conduct 
 was entirely wanting in him. Fortunately 
 it was supplied by a sense of entire depend- 
 ence which produced entire docility. A 
 dog does not obey his master more dutifully 
 than William obeyed his brother; and in 
 
 this obedience there was nothing of fear ; 
 with all the strength and simplicity of a 
 child's love, it had also the character and 
 merit of a moral attachment. 
 
 The professed and privileged fool was 
 generally characterised by a spice of kna- 
 very, and not unfrequently of maliciousness : 
 the unnatural situation in which he was 
 placed, tended to excite such propensities 
 and even to produce them. William had 
 shrewdness enough for the character, but 
 nothing of this appeared in his disposition ; 
 ill-usage might perhaps have awakened it, 
 and to a fearful degree, if he had proved as 
 sensible to injury as he was to kindness. 
 But he had never felt an injury. He could 
 not have been treated with more tenderness 
 in Turkey (where a degree of holiness is 
 imputed to persons in his condition) than 
 was uniformly shown him within the little 
 sphere of his perambulations. It was sur- 
 prising how much he had picked up within 
 that little sphere. Whatever event occurred, 
 whatever tale was current, whatever tradi- 
 tions were preserved, whatever superstitions 
 were believed, William knew them all ; and 
 all that his insatiable ear took in, his me- 
 mory hoarded. Half the proverbial sayings 
 in Hay's volume were in his head, and as 
 many more with which Hay was unac- 
 quainted. He knew many of the stories 
 which our children are now receiving as 
 novelties in the selections from Grimm's 
 Kinder und Haus-Marchen, and as many of 
 those which are collected in the Danish 
 Folk-Sagn. And if some zealous lover of 
 legendary lore, (like poor John Leyden, or 
 Sir Walter Scott,) had fallen in with him, 
 the Shakesperian commentators might per- 
 haps have had the whole story of St. With- 
 old ; the Wolf of the World's End might 
 have been identified with Fenris and found 
 to be a relic of the Scalds : and Rauf Col- 
 Iyer and John the Reeve might still have 
 been as well known as Adam Bell, and Clym 
 of the Clough, and William of Cloudeslie. 
 
 William had a great fondness for his 
 nephew. Let not Protestants suppose that 
 Nepotism is an affection confined to the dig- 
 nitaries of the Roman Catholic Church. In
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 its excess indeed it is peculiarly a Papal 
 vice, which is a degree higher than a 
 Cardinal one ; but like many other sins it 
 grows out of the corruption of a good feel- 
 ing. It may be questioned whether fond 
 uncles are not as numerous as unkind ones, 
 notwithstanding our recollections of King 
 Richard and the Children in the Wood. We 
 may use the epithet nepotious for those who 
 carry this fondness to the extent of doting, 
 anil as expressing that degree of fondness it 
 may be applied to William Dove : he was a 
 nepotious uncle. The father regarded young 
 Daniel with a deeper and more thoughtful, 
 but not with a fonder affection, not with 
 such a doting attachment. -Dinah herself, 
 though a fond as well as careful mother, did 
 not more thoroughly 
 
 delight to hear 
 
 Her early child mis-speak half-uttered words ; * 
 
 and perhaps the boy, so long as he was in- 
 capable of distinguishing between their 
 moral qualities, and their relative claims to 
 his respect and love and duty, loved his uncle 
 most of the three. The father had no idle 
 hours; in the intervals when he was not 
 otherwise employed, one of his dear books 
 usually lay open before him, and if he was 
 not feeding upon the page, he was ruminat- 
 ing the food it had afforded him. But Wil- 
 liam Dove, from the time that his nephew 
 became capable of noticing and returning 
 caresses seemed to have concentred upon 
 him all his affections. With children affec- 
 tion seldom fails of finding its due return ; 
 and if he had not thus won the boy's heart 
 in infancy, he would have secured it in 
 childhood by winning his ear with these mar- 
 vellous stories. But he possessed another 
 talent which would alone have made him a 
 favourite with children, the power of 
 imitating animal sounds with singular per- 
 fection. A London manager would have 
 paid him well for performing the cock in 
 Hamlet. He could bray in octaves to a 
 nicety, set the geese gabbling by addressing 
 them in their own tongue, and make the 
 turkey-cock spread his fan, brush his wing 
 
 against the ground, and angrily gob-gobble 
 in answer to a gobble of defiance. But he 
 prided himself more upon his success with 
 the owls, as an accomplishment of more dif- 
 ficult attainment. In this Mr. Wordsworth's 
 boy of Winander was not more perfect. 
 Both hands were used as an instrument in 
 producing the notes ; and if Pope could 
 have heard the responses which came from 
 barn and doddered oak and ivied crag, he 
 would rather, (satirist as he was,) have left 
 Ralph unsatirised, than have vilified one 
 of the wildest and sweetest of nocturnal 
 sounds. 
 
 He was not less expert to a human ear in 
 hitting off the wood-pigeon's note, though 
 he could not in this instance provoke a 
 reply. This sound he used to say ought to 
 be natural to him, and it was wrong in the 
 bird not to acknowledge his relation. Once 
 when he had made too free with a lass's 
 lips, he disarmed his brother of a reprehen- 
 sive look, by pleading that as his name was 
 William Dove it behoved him both to bill 
 and to coo. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. P. I. 
 
 A WOED TO THE READER, SHOWING WHERE 
 WE ARE, AND HOW WE CAME HERE, AND 
 WHEREFORE J AND WHITHER WE ARE 
 GOING. 
 
 'Tis my venture 
 On your retentive wisdom. 
 
 BEN JONSON. 
 
 READER, you have not forgotten where we 
 are at this time : you remember I trust, 
 that we are neither at Dan nor Beersheba ; 
 nor anywhere between those two celebrated 
 places ; nor on the way to either of them : 
 but that we are in the Doctor's parlour, that 
 Mrs. Dove has just poured out his seventh 
 cup of tea, and that the clock of St. George's 
 has struck five. In what street, parade, 
 place, square, row, terrace or lane, and in 
 what town, and in what county ; and on what 
 day, and in what month, and in what year, 
 will be explained in due time. You cannot 
 but remember what was said in the second
 
 30 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 chapter post initium concerning the import- 
 ance and the necessity of order in an under- 
 taking like this. " All things," says Sir 
 Thomas Brown, " began in order ; so shall 
 they end, and so shall they begin again ; ac- 
 cording to the ordainer of order, and mys- 
 tical mathematics of the City of Heaven:" 
 This awful sentence was uttered by the 
 Philosopher of Norwich upon occasion of a 
 subject less momentous than that whereon 
 we have entered, for what are the mysteries 
 of the Quincunx compared to the delineation 
 of a human mind ? Be pleased only at pre- 
 sent to bear in mind where we are. Place 
 but as much confidence in me as you do in 
 your review, your newspaper, and your 
 apothecary ; give me but as much credit as 
 you expect from your tailor ; and if your 
 apothecary deserves that confidence as well, 
 it will be well for you, and if your credit is 
 as punctually redeemed, it will be well for 
 your tailor. It is not without cause that I 
 have gone back to the Doctor's childhood 
 and his birth-place. Be thou assured, O 
 Reader! that he never could have been 
 seated thus comfortably in that comfortable 
 parlour where we are now regarding him, 
 never by possibility could have been at that 
 time in that spot, and in those circum- 
 stances; never could have been the Doc- 
 tor that he was, nay, according to all 
 reasonable induction, all tangible or imagi- 
 nable probabilities, never would have been 
 a Doctor at all, consequently thou never 
 couldst have had the happiness of reading 
 this delectable history, nor I the happiness 
 of writing it for thy benefit and information 
 and delight, had it not been for his father's 
 character, his father's books, his schoolmaster 
 Guy, and his Uncle William, with all whom 
 and which, it was therefore indispensable 
 that thou shouldst be made acquainted. 
 
 A metaphysician, or as some of my con- 
 temporaries would affect to say a psychologist, 
 if he were at all a master of his art bablative 
 (for it is as much an ars bablativa as the 
 law, which was defined to be so by that old 
 traitor and time-server Serjeant Maynard) 
 a metaphysician I say, would not require 
 more than three such octavo volumes as 
 
 those of Mr. Malthus's Essay on Population, 
 to prove that no existing circumstance could 
 at this time be what it is, unless all preced- 
 ing circumstances had from the beginning 
 of time been precisely what they were. 
 But, my good reader, I have too much re- 
 spect for you, and too much regard for your 
 precious time, and too much employment, 
 or amusement (which is a very rational kind 
 of employment) for my own, to waste it in 
 demonstrating a truism. No man knows 
 the value of time more feelingly than I do ! 
 
 Man's life, Sir, being 
 
 So short, and then the way that leads unto 
 The knowledge of ourselves, so long and tedious, 
 Each minute should be precious.* 
 
 It is my wish and intention to make you 
 acquainted with a person most worthy to be 
 known, for such the subject of this history 
 will be admitted to be : one whom when 
 you once know him it will be impossible 
 that you should ever forget: one for whom 
 I have the highest possible veneration and 
 regard ; (and though it is not possible that 
 your feelings towards him should be what 
 mine are) one who, the more he is known, 
 will and must be more and more admired. 
 I wish to introduce this person to you. 
 Now, Sir, I appeal to your good sense, and 
 to your own standard of propriety, should I 
 act with sufficient respect either to yourself 
 or him, if, without giving you any previous 
 intimation, any information, concerning his 
 character and situation in life ; or in any 
 way apprising you who and what he was, I 
 were to knock at your door and simply pre- 
 sent him to you as Doctor Dove ? No, my 
 dear Sir ! it is indispensable that you should 
 be properly informed who it is whom I thus 
 introduce to your acquaintance ; and if you 
 are the judicious person that I suppose you 
 to be, you will be obliged to me as long as 
 you live. " For why," as old Higgins hath 
 it, 
 
 For why, who writes such histories as these 
 Doth often bring the Reader's heart such ease 
 As when they sit and see what he doth note, 
 Well fare his heart, say they, this book that wrote ! 
 
 El fare that reader's heart who of this 
 
 * BEAUMONT and FLETCHER.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 31 
 
 book says otherwise ! " Tain suavia dicam 
 facinora, ut male sit ei qui talibus nan delec- 
 tetur!" said a very different person from old 
 Higgins, writing in a different vein. I have 
 not read his book, but so far as my own is 
 concerned, I heartily adopt his malediction. 
 
 Had I been disposed, as the Persians say, 
 to let the steed of the pen expatiate in the 
 plains of prolixity, I should have carried 
 thee farther back in the generations of the 
 Doves. But the good garrulous son of Garci- 
 lasso my Lord (Heaven rest the soul of the 
 Princess who bore him, for Peru has 
 never produced any thing else half so pre- 
 cious as his delightful books,) the Inca- 
 blooded historian himself, I say, was not 
 more anxious to avoid that failing than I 
 am. Forgive me, Reader, if I should have 
 fallen into an opposite error ; forgive me if 
 in the fear of saying too much I should have 
 said too little. I have my misgivings : I 
 may have run upon Scylla while striving to 
 avoid Charybdis. Much interesting matter 
 have I omitted ; much have I passed by on 
 which I " cast a longing lingering look be- 
 hind ;" much which might worthily find a 
 place in the History of Yorkshire; or of 
 the West Riding (if that history were tri- 
 partitively distributed;) or in the Gentle- 
 man's Magazine ; or in John Nichols's Il- 
 lustrations of the Literary History of the 
 Eighteenth Century : (I honour John Ni- 
 chols, I honour Mr. Urban!) much more 
 might it have had place much more might 
 it be looked for here ! 
 
 I might have told thee, Reader, of Daniel 
 the Grandfather, and of Abigail his second 
 wife, who once tasted tea in the house- 
 keeper's apartments at Skipton Castle ; and 
 of the Great Grandfather who at the age of 
 twenty-eight died of the small-pox, and was 
 the last of the family that wore a leathern 
 jerkin ; and of his father Daniel the atavus, 
 who was the first of the family that shaved, 
 and who went with his own horse and arms 
 to serve in that brave troop, which during 
 the wreck of the King's party the heir of 
 Lowther raised for the loyal cause : and of 
 that Daniel's Grandfather, (the tritavus) 
 who going to Kentmere to bring home a 
 
 wife was converted from the Popish super- 
 stition by falling in with Bernard Gilpin on 
 the way. That apostolic man was so well 
 pleased with his convert, that he gave him 
 his own copy of Latimer's sermons, that 
 copy which was one of our Daniel's Sunday 
 books, and which was religiously preserved 
 in reverence for this ancestor, and for the 
 Apostle of the North (as Bernard Gilpin 
 was called), whose autograph it contained. 
 
 The history of any private family, how- 
 ever humble, could it be fully related for 
 five or six generations, would illustrate the 
 state and progress of society better than 
 could be done by the most elaborate disser- 
 tation. And the History of the Doves 
 might be rendered as interesting and as in- 
 structive as that of the Seymours or the 
 Howards. Frown not, my Lord of Norfolk, 
 frown not, your Grace of Somerset, when I 
 add, that it would contain less for their de- 
 scendants to regret. 
 
 CHAPTER Xn. P. I. 
 
 A HISTORY NOTICED WHICH IS WRITTEN 
 BACKWARD. THE CONFDSION OF TONGDES 
 AN ESPECIAL EVIL FOR SCHOOLBOYS. 
 
 For never in the long and tedious tract 
 Of slavish grammar was I made to plod ; 
 
 No tyranny of Rules my patience rackt ; 
 I served no prenticehood to any Rod ; 
 
 But in the freedom of the Practic way 
 
 Learnt to go right, even when I went astray. 
 
 DR. BEAUMONT. 
 
 IT has been the general practice of his- 
 torians, from the time of Moses, to begin at 
 the beginning of their subject : but as a 
 river may be traced either from its sources 
 or its mouth, so it appears that a history 
 may be composed in the reversed order of 
 its chronology; and a French author of very 
 considerable ability and great learning has 
 actually written a history of the Christian 
 religion from his own times upwards. It 
 forms part of an elaborate and extensive 
 work entitled Parallels des Religions, which 
 must have been better known than it ap- 
 pears to be at present if it had not happened 
 to be published in Paris during the most
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 turbulent year of the Revolution. Perhaps 
 if I had carried back the memoirs of the 
 Dove family, I might have followed his ex- 
 ample in choosing the up-hill way, and have 
 proceeded from son to father in the ascend- 
 ing line. But having resolved (whether 
 judiciously or not) not to go farther back in 
 these family records than the year of our 
 Lord 1723, being the year of the Doctor's 
 birth, I shall continue in the usual course, 
 and pursue his history ab incunubulis down 
 to that important evening on which we find 
 him now reaching out his hand to take that 
 cup of tea which Mrs. Dove has just creamed 
 and sugared for him. After all the beaten 
 way is usually the best, and always the 
 safest. "He ought to be well mounted," 
 says Aaron Hill, " who is for leaping the 
 hedges of custom." For myself I am not 
 so adventurous a horseman as to take the 
 hazards of a steeple chace. 
 
 Proceeding, therefore, after the model of 
 aTyburn biography, which being an ancient 
 as well as popular form is likely to be the 
 best, we come after birth and parentage 
 to education. " That the world from Babel 
 was scattered into divers tongues, we need 
 not other proof," says a grave and good 
 author, " than as Diogenes proved that there 
 is motion, by walking ; so we may see 
 the confusion of languages by our confused 
 speaking. Once all the earth was of one 
 tongue, one speech and one consent ; for 
 they all spake in the holy tongue wherein 
 the world was created in the beginning. 
 But pro peccato dissentionis humana (as saith 
 St. Austin,) for the sin of men disagree- 
 ing, not only different dispositions but 
 also different languages came into the world. 
 They came to Babel with a disagreeing 
 agreement ; and they came away punished 
 with a speechless speech. They disagree 
 among themselves, while every one strives 
 for dominion. They agree against God in 
 their Nagnavad Ian Liguda, we will make 
 ourselves a rendezvous for idolatry. But 
 they come away speaking to each other, but 
 not understood of each other ; and so speak 
 to no more purpose than if they spake not 
 at :ill. This punishment of theirs at Babel 
 
 is like Adam's corruption, hereditary to us ; 
 for we never come under the rod at the 
 Grammar School, but we smart for our 
 ancestor's rebellion at Babel." 
 
 Light lie the earth upon the bones of 
 Richard* Guy, the Schoolmaster of Ingleton ! 
 He never consumed birch enough in his 
 vocation to have made a besom ; and his 
 ferule was never applied unless when some 
 moral offence called for a chastisement that 
 would be felt. There is a closer connection 
 between good-nature and good sense than 
 is commonly supposed. A sour ill-tem- 
 pered pedagogue would have driven Daniel 
 through the briars and brambles of the 
 Grammar and foundered him in its sloughs ; 
 Guy led him gently along the green-sward. 
 He felt that childhood should not be made 
 altogether a season of painful acquisition, 
 and that the fruits of the sacrifices then 
 made are uncertain as to the account to 
 which they may be turned, and are also 
 liable to the contingencies of life at least, if 
 not otherwise jeopardized. " Puisque le 
 jour pent lui manquer, laissons le un pen 
 jouir de FAurore ! " The precept which 
 warmth of imagination inspired in Jean 
 Jacques was impressed upon Guy's practice 
 by gentleness of heart. He never crammed 
 the memory of his pupil with such horrific 
 terms as Prothesis, Aphaeresis, Epcnthesi.s, 
 Syncope, Paragoge, and Apocope ; never 
 questioned him concerning Appositio, Evo- 
 catio, Syllepsis, Prolepsis, Zeugma, Syn- 
 thesis, Antiptosis, and Synecdoche ; never 
 attempted to deter him (as Lily says boys 
 are above all things to be deterred) from 
 those faults which Lily also says, seem al- 
 most natural to the English, the heinous 
 faults of lotacism, Lambdacism, (which Al- 
 cibiades affected,) Ischnotesism, Trauli'sm 
 and Plateasm. But having grounded him 
 well in the nouns and verbs, and made him 
 understand the concords, he then followed 
 in part the excellent advice of Lily thus 
 given in his address to the Reader : 
 
 " When these concords be well known 
 unto them (an easy and pleasant pain, if the 
 foregrounds be well and thoroughly beaten 
 in) let them not continue in learning of the
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 33 
 
 rules orderly, as they lie in their Syntax, 
 but rather learn some pretty book wherein 
 is contained not only the eloquence of the 
 tongue, but also a good plain lesson of 
 honesty and godliness; and thereof take 
 some little sentence as it lieth, and learn to 
 make the same first out of English into 
 Latin, not seeing the book, or construing it 
 thereupon. And if there fall any necessary 
 rule of the Syntax to be known, then to 
 learn it, as the occasion of the sentence 
 giveth cause that day ; which sentence once 
 made well, and as nigh as may be with the 
 words of the book, then to take the book 
 and construe it ; and so shall he be less 
 troubled with the parsing of it, and easiliest 
 carry his lesson in mind." 
 
 Guy followed this advice in part ; and in 
 part he deviated from it, upon Lily's own 
 authority, as "judging that the most suffi- 
 cient way which he saw to be the readiest 
 mean ; " while, therefore, he exercised his 
 pupil in writing Latin pursuant to this plan, 
 he carried him on faster in construing, and 
 promoted the boy's progress by gratifying 
 his desire of getting forward. When he had 
 done with Cordery, Erasmus was taken up, 
 for some of Erasmus's colloquies were in 
 those days used as a school book, and the 
 most attractive one that could be put into a 
 boy's hands. After he had got through this, 
 the aid of an English version was laid aside. 
 And here Guy departed from the ordinary 
 course, not upon any notion that he could 
 improve upon it, but merely because he hap- 
 pened to possess an old book composed for 
 the use of Schools, which was easy enough 
 to suit young Daniel's progress in the lan- 
 guage, and might therefore save the cost of 
 purchasing Justin or Phaedrus or Cornelius 
 Nepos, or Eutropius, to one or other of 
 which he would otherwise have been intro- 
 duced. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. P. I. 
 
 A DOUBT CONCERNING SCHOOL BOOKS, WHICH 
 WILL BE DEEMED HERETICAL : AND SOME 
 ACCOUNT OF AN EXTRAORDINARY SUBSTI- 
 TUTE FOR OVID OR VIRGIL. 
 
 They say it is an ill mason that refuseth any stone ; and 
 there is no knowledge but in a skilful hand serves, either 
 positively as it is, or else to illustrate some other know- 
 ledge. HUBERT'S REMAINS. 
 
 I AM sometimes inclined to think that pigs 
 are brought up upon a wiser system, than 
 boys at a grammar school. The Pig is 
 allowed to feed upon any kind of offal, how- 
 ever coarse, on which he can thrive, till the 
 time approaches when pig is to commence 
 pork, or take a degree as bacon ; and then 
 he is fed daintily. Now it has sometimes 
 appeared to me that in like manner, boys 
 might acquire their first knowledge of Latin 
 from authors very inferior to those which 
 are now used in all schools ; provided the 
 matter was unexceptionable and the Latinity 
 good ; and that they should not be intro- 
 duced to the standard works of antiquity 
 till they are of an age in some degree to 
 appreciate what they read. 
 
 Understand me, Reader, as speaking 
 doubtfully, and that too upon a matter 
 of little moment ; for the scholar will return 
 in riper years to those authors which are 
 worthy of being studied, and as for the 
 blockhead it signifies nothing whether the 
 book which he consumes by thumbing it in 
 the middle and dog-earing it at the corners 
 be worthy or not of a better use. Yet if 
 the dead have any cognizance of posthum- 
 ous fame, one would think it must abate 
 somewhat of the pleasure with which Virgil 
 and Ovid regard their earthly immortality, 
 when they see to what base purposes their 
 productions are applied. That their verses 
 should be administered to boys in regular 
 doses, as lessons or impositions, and some 
 dim conception of their meaning whipt into 
 the tail when it has failed to penetrate the 
 head, cannot be just the sort of homage to 
 their genius which they anticipated or de- 
 sired.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Not from any reasonings or refinements 
 of this kind, but from the mere accident of 
 possessing the book, Guy put into his pupil's 
 hands the Dialogues of Johannes Ravisius 
 Textor. Jean Tixier, Seigneur de Ravisy, 
 in the Nivernois, who thus latinised his 
 name, is a person whose works, according to 
 Baillet's severe censure, were buried in the 
 dust of a few petty colleges and unfre- 
 quented shops, more than a century ago. 
 He was, however, in his day a person of no 
 mean station in the world of letters, having 
 been Rector of the University of Paris, at 
 the commencement of the sixteenth cen- 
 tury; and few indeed are the writers whose 
 books have been so much used; for perhaps 
 no other author ever contributed so largely 
 to the manufacture of exercises whether in 
 prose or verse, and of sermons also. Textor 
 may be considered as the first compiler of 
 the Gradus ad Parnassum ; and that collec- 
 tion of Apophthegms was originally formed 
 by him, which Conrade Lycosthenes enlarged 
 and re-arranged ; which the Jesuits adopted 
 after expurgating it ; and which, during 
 many generations, served as one of the 
 standard common-place books for common- 
 place divines in this country as well as on 
 the continent. 
 
 But though Textor was continually work- 
 ing in classical literature with a patience 
 and perseverance which nothing but the 
 delight he experienced in such occupations 
 could have sustained, he was without a 
 particle of classical taste. His taste was 
 that of the age wherein he flourished, 
 and these his Dialogues are Moralities in 
 Latin verse. The designs and thoughts 
 which would have accorded with their lan- 
 guage, had they been written either in old 
 French or old English, appear, when pre- 
 sented in Latinity, which is always that of 
 a scholar, and largely interwoven with 
 scraps from familiar classics, as strange as 
 Harlequin and Pantaloon would do in he- 
 roic costume. 
 
 Earth opens the first of these curious 
 compositions with a bitter complaint for the 
 misfortunes which it is her lot to witness. 
 Age (JEtas) overhears the lamentation and 
 
 inquires the cause ; and after a dialogue in 
 which the author makes the most liberal use 
 of his own common-places, it appears that 
 the perishable nature of all sublunary things 
 is the cause of this mourning. JEtas en- 
 deavours to persuade Terra that her grief 
 is altogether unreasonable by such brief and 
 cogent observations as Fata jubent, Fata 
 volwit, Ita Diis placitum. Earth asks the 
 name of her philosophic consoler, but upon 
 discovering it, calls her falsa virago, and 
 meretrix, and abuses her as being the very 
 author of all the evils that distress her. 
 However JEtas succeeds in talking Terra 
 into better humour, advises her to exhort 
 man that he should not set his heart upon 
 perishable things, and takes her leave as 
 Homo enters. After a recognition between 
 mother and son, Terra proceeds to warn 
 Homo against all the ordinary pursuits of 
 this world. To convince him of the vanity 
 of glory she calls up in succession the ghosts 
 of Hector, Achilles, Alexander, and Sam- 
 son, who tell their tales and admonish him 
 that valour and renown afford no protection 
 against Death. To exemplify the vanity of 
 beauty Helen, Lais, Thisbe and Lucretia 
 are summoned, relate in like manner their 
 respective fortunes, and remind him that 
 pidvis et umbra surnus. Virgil preaches to 
 him upon the emptiness of literary fame. 
 Xerxes tells him that there is no avail in 
 power, Nero that there is none in tyranny, 
 Sardanapalus that there is none in voluptu- 
 ousness. But the application which Homo 
 makes of all this, is the very reverse to what 
 his mother intended: he infers that seeing 
 he must die at last, live how he will, the 
 best thing he can do is to make a merry 
 life of it, so away he goes to dance and revel 
 and enjoy himself: and Terra concludes 
 with the mournful observation that men 
 will still pursue their bane, unmindful of 
 their latter end. 
 
 Another of these Moralities begins with 
 three Worldlings (Tres Mundutii) ringing 
 changes upon the pleasures of profligacy, in 
 Textor's peculiar manner, each in regular 
 succession saying something to the same 
 purport in different words. As thus
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 35 
 
 PttlMUS Mt'NDANUS. 
 
 Si breve Umpus abit, 
 
 SKCUNDUS MUNDANUS. 
 
 Si vita cad Ufa recedit j 
 TERTICS MUNDANDS. 
 
 Si cadit hot- a. 
 
 PRIMUS MUNDANUS. 
 
 Dies abeunt, 
 SECUNDUS MUNDANUS. 
 Peril Ornne, 
 TBRTIUS MCNDANUS. 
 
 fenil Mars, 
 PRIMUS MUNDANUS. 
 
 Quirlaam prodcsset Jati meminisse futuri ? 
 SECUNDUS MUNDANUS. 
 
 Quidnam prodesset lachrymis consumere vitam f 
 TERTIUS MUXDANUS. 
 
 Quidnam prodesset lands incumbere curis f 
 
 Upon which an unpleasant personage who 
 has just appeared to interrupt their tria- 
 logue observes, 
 
 Si breve tempus abit, si vita caduca recedit, 
 
 Si cadit hora, dies abeunt, perit otnne, venil \tors, 
 
 Quidnam IcthiJertB Mortis meminisse nocebitf 
 
 It is Mors herself who asks the question. 
 The three Worldlings, however, behave as 
 resolutely as Don Juan in the old drama ; 
 they tell Death that they are young, and 
 rich, and active, and vigorous, and set all 
 admonition at defiance. Death, or rather 
 Mrs. Death, (for Mors, being feminine, is 
 called lama, and meretrix, and virago,) takes 
 all this patiently, and letting them go off in 
 a dance, calls up Human Nature, who has 
 been asleep meantime, and asks her how she 
 can sleep in peace while her sons are lead- 
 ing a life of dissipation and debauchery? 
 Nature very coolly replies by demanding 
 why they should not? and Death answers, 
 because they must go to the infernal regions 
 for so doing. Upon this Nature, who ap- 
 pears to be liberally inclined, asks if it is 
 credible that any should be obliged to go 
 there ? and Death, to convince her, calls up 
 a soul from bale to give an account of his 
 own sufferings. A dreadful account this 
 Danniatus gives ; and when Nature, shocked 
 at what she hears, inquires if he is the only 
 one who is tormented in Orcus, Damnatus 
 assures her that hardly one in a thousand 
 goes to Heaven, but that his fellow-sufferers 
 are in number numberless ; and he specifies 
 among them Kings and Popes, and Senators, 
 and severe Schoolmasters, a class of men 
 whom Textor seems to have held in great 
 
 and proper abhorrence as if like poor 
 Thomas Tusser he had suffered under their 
 inhuman discipline. 
 
 Horrified at this, Nature asks advice of 
 Mors, and Mors advises her to send a Son 
 of Thunder round the world, who should 
 reprove the nations for their sins, and sow 
 the seeds of virtue by his preaching. Pere- 
 grinus goes upon this mission and returns to 
 give an account of it. Nothing can be worse 
 than the report. As for the Kings of the 
 Earth, it would be dangerous, he says, to 
 say what they were doing. The Popes suf- 
 fered the ship of Peter to go wherever the 
 winds carried it. Senators were won by in- 
 tercession or corrupted by gold. Doctors 
 spread their nets in the temples for prey, 
 and Lawyers were dumb unless their tongues 
 were loosened by money. Had he seen the 
 Italians ? Italy was full of dissensions, 
 ripe for war, and defiled by its own infamous 
 vice. The Spaniards? They were suckled 
 by Pride. The English ? 
 
 Gens tacitis pr&gnans arcanis, ardua lentans, 
 Edita tartar eis mini creditor esse tenebris. 
 
 In short the Missionary concludes that he 
 has found every where an abundant crop of 
 vices, and that all his endeavours to pro- 
 duce amendment have been like ploughing 
 the sea shore. Again afflicted Nature asks 
 advice of Mors, and Mors recommends that 
 she should call up Justice and send her 
 abroad with her scourge to repress the 
 wicked. But Justice is found to be so fast 
 asleep that no calling can awaken her. 
 Mors then advises her to summon Veritas ; 
 alas ! unhappy Veritas enters complaining 
 of pains from head to foot and in all the in- 
 termediate parts, within and without ; she 
 is dying and entreats that Nature will call 
 some one to confess her. But who shall be 
 applied to ? Kings ? They will not come. 
 Nobles ? Veritas is a hateful personage to 
 them. Bishops, or mitred Abbots ? They 
 have no regard for Truth. Some Saint 
 from the desert ? Nature knows not where 
 to find one ! Poor Veritas therefore dies 
 " unhouseled, disappointed, unanealed;" and 
 forthwith three Demons enter rejoicing that 
 Human Nature is left with none to help her,
 
 3G 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 and that they are Kings of this world. They 
 call in their Ministers, Caro and Voluptas 
 and Vitium, and send them to do their work 
 among mankind. These successful mission- 
 aries return, and relate how well they have 
 sped every where ; and the Demons being 
 by this time hungry, after washing in due 
 form, and many ceremonious compliments 
 among themselves, sit down to a repast 
 which their ministers have provided. The 
 bill of fare was one which Beelzebub's Court 
 of Aldermen might have approved. There 
 were the brains of a fat monk, a roasted 
 Doctor of Divinity who afforded great satis- 
 faction, a King's sirloin, some broiled 
 Pope's fle-h, and part of a Schoolmaster ; 
 the joint is not specified, but I suppose it to 
 have been the rump. Then came a Senator's 
 lights and a Lawyer's tongue. 
 
 When they have eaten of these dainties 
 till the distended stomach can hold no more, 
 Virhis comes in, and seeing them send off the 
 fragments to their Tartarean den, calls upon 
 mankind to bestow some sustenance upon 
 her, for she is tormented with hunger. The 
 Demons and their ministers insult her and 
 drive her into banishment ; they tell Nature 
 that to-morrow the great King of Orcus will 
 come and carry her away in chains ; off they 
 go in a dance, and Nature concludes the 
 piece by saying that what they have threat- 
 ened must happen, unless Justice shall be 
 awakened, Virtue fed, and Veritas restored 
 to life by the sacred book. 
 
 There are several other Dialogues in a 
 similar strain of fiction. The rudest and 
 perhaps oldest specimen of this style is to 
 be found in Pierce Ploughman, the most 
 polished in Calderon, the most popular in 
 John Bunyan's Holy War, and above all in 
 his Pilgrim's Progress. It appears from the 
 Dialogues that they were not composed for 
 the use of youth alone as a school book, but 
 were represented at College ; and poor as 
 they are in point of composition, the oddity 
 of their combinations, and the wholesome 
 honesty of their satire, were well adapted to 
 strike young imaginations and make an im- 
 pression there which better and wiser works 
 might have failed to leave. 
 
 A schoolmaster who had been regularly 
 bred would have regarded such a book with 
 scorn, and discerning at once its obvious 
 faults, would have been incapable of per- 
 ceiving any thing which might compensate 
 for them. But Guy was not educated well 
 enough to despise a writer like old Textor. 
 What he knew himself, he had picked up 
 where and how he could, in bye ways and 
 corners. The book was neither in any re- 
 spect above his comprehension, nor below 
 his taste ; and Joseph Warton, never rolled 
 off the hexameters of Virgil or Homer, ore 
 rotunda, with more delight, when expatiating 
 with all the feelings of a scholar and a poet 
 upon their beauties, to such pupils as Head- 
 ley and Russell and Bowles, than Guy para- 
 phrased these rude but striking allegories to 
 his delighted Daniel. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. P. I. 
 
 AN OBJECTION ANSWERED. 
 
 Is this then your wonder? 
 Nay then you shall under- 
 stand more of my skill. BEN JONSON. 
 
 " THIS account of Textor's Dialogues," says 
 a critical Reader, " might have done very 
 well for the Retrospective Review, or one of 
 the Magazines, or D'Israeli's Curiosities of 
 Literature. But no one would have looked 
 for it here, where it is completely out of 
 place." 
 
 " My good Sir, there is quite enough left 
 untouched in Textor to form a very amusing 
 paper for the journal which you have men- 
 tioned, and the Editor may thank you for 
 the hint. But you are mistaken in thinking 
 that what has been said of those Dialogues 
 is out of place here. May I ask what you 
 expected in these volumes ? " 
 
 " W T hat the Title authorised me to look 
 for." 
 
 " Do you know, Sir, what mutton broth 
 means at a city breakfast on the Lord 
 Mayor's Day, mutton broth being the ap- 
 pointed breakfast for that festival ? It 
 
 means according to established usage by 
 
 J
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 37 
 
 liberal interpretation mutton broth and 
 every thing else that can be wished for at a 
 breakfast. So, Sir, you have here not only 
 what the title seems to specify, but every 
 thing else that can be wished for in a book. 
 In treating of the Doctor, it treats de omnibus 
 rebus et quibusdam aliis. It is the Doctor 
 &c., and that &c., like one of Lyttleton's, 
 implies every thing that can be deduced 
 from the words preceding. 
 
 But I maintain that the little which has 
 been said of comical old Textor (for it is 
 little compared to what his Dialogues con- 
 tain) strictly relates to the main thread of 
 this most orderly and well-compacted work. 
 You will remember that I am now replying 
 to the question proposed in the third chap- 
 ter P. I. " Who was the Doctor ? " And 
 as he who should undertake to edite the 
 works of Chaucer, or Spenser, or Shakespear 
 would not be qualified for the task, unless 
 he had made himself conversant with the 
 writings of those earlier authors, from whose 
 storehouses (as far as they drew from books) 
 their minds were fed ; so it behoved me (as 
 far as my information and poor ability ex- 
 tend) to explain in what manner so rare a 
 character as Dr. Dove's was formed. 
 
 Quo semel est imbwta recens, you know 
 the rest of the quotation, Sir. And perhaps 
 you may have tasted water out of a beery 
 glass, which it is not one or two rinsings 
 that can purify. 
 
 You have seen yw trees cut into the 
 forms of pyramids, chess-kings, and pea- 
 cocks : nothing can be more unlike their 
 proper growth and yet no tree except the 
 yew could take the artificial figures so well. 
 The garden passes into the possession of 
 some new owner who has no taste for such 
 irnaments : the yews are left to grow at 
 their own will ; they lose the preposterous 
 shape which had been forced upon them, 
 without recovering that of their natural 
 growth, and what was formal becomes gro- 
 tesque a word which may be understood 
 as expressing the incongruous combination 
 of formality with extravagance or wildness. 
 
 The intellectual education which young 
 Daniel received at home was as much out of 
 
 the ordinary course as the book in which he 
 studied at school. Robinson Crusoe had not 
 yet reached Ingleton. Sandford and Merton 
 had not been written; nor that history of 
 Pecksey and Flapsey and the Robin's Nest, 
 which is the prettiest fiction that ever was 
 composed for children, and for which its 
 excellent authoress will one day rank high 
 among women of genius when time shall 
 have set its seal upon desert. The only 
 book within his reach, of all those which 
 now come into the hands of youth, was the 
 Pilgrim's Progress, and this he read at first 
 without a suspicion of its allegorical import. 
 What he did not understand was as little 
 remembered as the sounds of the wind, or 
 the motions of the passing clouds ; but the 
 imagery and the incidents took possession of 
 his memory and his heart. After a while 
 Textor became an interpreter of the im- 
 mortal Tinker, and the boy acquired as 
 much of the meaning by glimpses as was 
 desirable, enough to render some of the per- 
 sonages more awful by spiritualising them, 
 while the tale itself remained as a reality. 
 Oh ! what blockheads are those wise persons 
 who think it necessary that a child should 
 comprehend every thing it reads ! 
 
 CHAPTER XV. P.I. 
 
 THE AUTHOR VENTURES AN OPINION AGAINST 
 THE PREVAILING WISDOM OF MAKING 
 CHILDREN PREMATURELY WISE. 
 
 Pray you, use your freedom ; 
 And so far, if you please allow me mine, 
 To hear you only ; not to be compelled 
 To take your moral potions. MASSINGER. 
 
 "WHAT, SIB," exclaims a Lady, who is 
 bluer than ever one of her naked and woad- 
 stained ancestors appeared at a public 
 festival in full dye, " what, Sir, do you 
 tell us that children are not to be made to 
 understand what they are taught?" And 
 she casts her eyes complacently toward an 
 assortment of those books which so many 
 writers, male and female, some of the in- 
 fidel, some of the semi-fidel, and some of the 
 super-fidel schools have composed for the
 
 .38 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 laudable purpose of enabling children to 
 understand every thing. " What, Sir," 
 she repeats, " are we to make our children 
 learn things by rote like parrots, and fill 
 their heads with words to which they cannot 
 attach any signification ? " 
 
 " Yes, Madam, in very many cases." 
 " I should like, Sir, to be instructed 
 why?" 
 
 She says this in a tone, and with an ex- 
 pression both of eyes and lips, which plainly 
 show, in direct opposition to the words, that 
 the Lady thinks herself much fitter to in- 
 struct, than to be instructed. It is not her 
 fault. She is a good woman, and naturally a 
 sensible one, but she has been trained up in 
 the way women should not go. She has 
 been carried from lecture to lecture, like a 
 student who is being crammed at a Scotch 
 University. She has attended lectures on 
 chemistry, lectures on poetry, lectures on 
 phrenology, lectures on mnemonics ; she has 
 read the latest and most applauded essays 
 on Taste : she has studied the newest and 
 most approved treatises practical and theo- 
 retical upon Education : she has paid suf- 
 ficient attention to metaphysics to know 
 as much as a professed philosopher about 
 matter and spirit : she is a proficient in 
 political economy, and can discourse upon 
 the new science of population. Poor Lady, 
 it would require large draughts of Lethe to 
 clear out all this undigested and undiges- 
 tible trash, and fit her for becoming what 
 she might have been ! Upon this point, how- 
 ever, it may be practicable to set her right. 
 
 " You are a mother, Madam, and a good 
 one. In caressing your infants you may 
 perhaps think it unphilosophical to use what 
 I should call the proper and natural language 
 of the nursery. But doubtless you talk to 
 them; you give some utterance to your 
 feelings ; and whether that utterance be in 
 legitimate and wise words, or in good ex- 
 temporaneous nonsense, it is alike to the 
 child. The conventional words convey no 
 more meaning to him than the mere sound ; 
 but he understands from either all that is 
 meant, all that you wish him to understand, 
 all that is to be understood. He knows 
 
 that it is an expression of your love anc 
 tenderness, and that he is the object of it. 
 
 " So too it continues after he is advanced 
 from infancy into childhood. When children 
 are beginning to speak they do not and 
 cannot affix any meaning to half the words 
 which they hear ; yet they learn their 
 mother tongue. What I say is, do not 
 attempt to force their intellectual growth. 
 Do not feed them with meat till they have 
 teeth to masticate it. 
 
 " There is a great deal which they ought 
 to learn, can learn, and must learn, before 
 they can or ought to understand it. How 
 many questions must you have heard from 
 them which you have felt to be best answered, 
 when they were with most dexterity put 
 aside ! Let me tell you a story which the 
 Jesuit Manuel de Vergara used to tell of 
 himself. When he was a little boy he asked 
 a Dominican Friar what was the meaning of 
 the seventh commandment, for he said he 
 could not tell what committing adultery was. 
 The Friar not knowing how to answer, cast 
 a perplexed look round the room, and think- 
 ing he had found a safe reply pointed to a 
 kettle on the fire, and said the Command- 
 ment meant that he must never put his hand 
 in the pot while it was boiling. The very 
 next day, a loud scream alarmed the family, 
 and behold there was little Manuel running 
 about the room holding up his scalded finger, 
 and exclaiming " Oh dear, oh dear, I've 
 committed adultery ! I've committed adul- 
 tery ! I've committed adultery ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. P. I. 
 
 USE AND ABUSE OF STORIES IN SEASONING, 
 WITH A WORD IN BEHALF OF CHIMNEY- 
 SWEEPERS AND IN REPROOF OF THE EARL 
 OF L4.UDERDALE. 
 
 My particular inclination moves me in controversy 
 especially to approve his choice that said, fortia mallem 
 guamjormosa. DR. JACKSON. 
 
 I ENDED that last chapter with a story, and 
 though " I say it who should not say it," it 
 is a good story well applied. Of what use a 
 story may be even in the most serious de- 
 bates may be seen from the circulation of
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 old Joes in Parliament, which are as current 
 there as their sterling namesakes used to be 
 in the city some threescore years ago. A 
 jest, though it should be as stale as last 
 week's newspaper, and as flat as Lord Floun- 
 der's face, is sure to be received with laughter 
 by the Collective Wisdom of the Nation : 
 ray, it is sometimes thrown out like a tub to 
 the whale, or like a trail of carrion to draw 
 off hounds from the scent. 
 
 The Bill which should have put an end to 
 the inhuman practice of employing children 
 to sweep chimneys, was thrown out on the 
 third reading in the House of Lords (having 
 passed the Commons without a dissentient 
 voice) by a speech from Lord Lauderdale, 
 the force of which consisted in, literally, a 
 Joe Millar jest. He related that an Irish- 
 man used to sweep his chimney by letting 
 a rope down, which was fastened round the 
 legs of a goose, and then pulling the goose 
 after it. A neighbour to whom he recom- 
 mended this as a convenient mode objected 
 to it upon the score of cruelty to the goose : 
 upon which he replied, that a couple of 
 ducks might do as well. Now if the Bill 
 before the house had been to enact that men 
 should no longer sweep chimneys but that 
 boys should be used instead, the story would 
 have been apph'cable. It was no other- 
 wise applicable than as it related to 
 chimney-sweeping : but it was a joke, and 
 that sufficed. The Lords laughed ; his 
 Lordship had the satisfaction of throwing 
 out the Bill, and the home Negro trade has 
 continued from that time, now seven years, 
 till this day, and still continues. His Lord- 
 ship had his jest, and it is speaking within 
 compass to say that in the course of those 
 seven years two thousand children have 
 been sacrificed in consequence. 
 
 The worst actions of Lord Lauderdale's 
 worst ancestor admit of a better defence 
 before God and Man. 
 
 Had his Lordship perused the evidence 
 which had been laid before the House of 
 Commons when the Bill was brought in, 
 upon which evidence the Bill was founded ? 
 Was he aware of the shocking barbarities 
 connected with the trade, and inseparable 
 
 from it ? Did he know that children in- 
 evitably lacerate themselves in learning this 
 dreadful occupation ? that they are fre- 
 quently crippled by it? frequently lose 
 their lives in it by suffocation, or by slow 
 fire ? that it induces a peculiar and dread- 
 ful disease? that they who survive the 
 accumulated hardships of a childhood during 
 which they are exposed to every kind of 
 misery, and destitute of every kind of com- 
 fort, have at the age of seventeen or eighteen 
 to seek their living how they can in some 
 other employment, for it is only by chil- 
 dren that this can be carried on ? Did his 
 Lordship know that girls as well as boys are 
 thus abused ? that their sufferings begin at 
 the age of six, sometimes a year earlier ? 
 finally that they are sold to this worst and 
 most inhuman of all slaveries, and sometimes 
 stolen for the purpose of being sold to it ? 
 
 I bear no ill-will towards Lord Lauder- 
 dale, either personally or politically: far 
 from it. His manly and honourable conduct 
 on the Queen's trial, when there was such an 
 utter destitution of honour in many quarters 
 where it was believed to exist, and so fearful 
 a want of manliness where it ought to have 
 been found, entitles him to the respect and 
 gratitude of every true Briton. But I will 
 tell his Lordship that rather than have 
 spoken as he did against an act which would 
 have lessened the sum of wickedness and 
 suffering in this country, rather than have 
 treated a question of pure humanity with 
 contempt and ridicule, rather than have 
 employed my tongue for such a purpose and 
 
 with such success, I would But no: 
 
 I will not tell him how I had concluded. I 
 will not tell him what I had added in the 
 sincerity of a free tongue and an honest heart. 
 I leave the sentence imperfect rather than 
 that any irritation which the strength of my 
 language might excite should lessen the 
 salutary effects of self-condemnation. 
 
 James Montgomery! these remarks are too 
 late for a place in thy Chimney Sweepers' 
 Friend : but insert them, I pray thee, in thy 
 newspaper, at the request of one who ad- 
 mires and loves thee as a Poet, honours and 
 respects thee as a man, and reaches out in
 
 40 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 spirit at this moment a long arm to shake 
 hands with thee in cordial good will. 
 
 My compliments to you, Mr. Bowring! 
 your little poem in Montgomery's benevolent 
 album is in a strain of true poetry and 
 right feeling. None but a man of genius 
 could have struck off such stanzas upon such 
 a theme. But when you wrote upon Hu- 
 manity at Home, the useful reflection might 
 have occurred that Patriotism has no busi- 
 ness abroad. Whatever cause there may be 
 to wish for amendment in the government 
 and institutions of other countries, keep 
 aloof from all revolutionary schemes for 
 amending them, lest you should experience 
 a far more painful disappointment, in their 
 success than in their failure. No spirit of 
 prophecy is required for telling you that 
 this must be the result. Lay not up that 
 cause of remorse for yourself, and time will 
 ripen in you what is crude, confirm what is 
 right, and gently rectify all that is erro- 
 neous ; it will abate your political hopes, 
 and enlarge your religious faith, and stablish 
 both upon a sure foundation. My good 
 wishes and sincere respects to you, Mr. 
 Bowring ! 
 
 INTERCHAPTER II. 
 
 ABALLIBOOZOBANGANORRIBO. 
 
 lo 'I di'co dunquc, e dicol che ognun m'ode. 
 
 BENEDETTO VARCHI. 
 
 WHETHER the secret of the Freemasons be 
 comprised in the mystic word above is more 
 than I think proper to reveal at present. 
 But I have broken no vow in uttering it. 
 
 And I am the better for having uttered 
 it. 
 
 Mahomet begins some of the chapters of 
 the Koran with certain letters of unknown 
 signification, and the commentators say that 
 the meaning of these initials ought not to be 
 inquired. So Gelaleddin says, so sayeth 
 Taleb. And they say truly. Some begin 
 with A. L. M. Some with K. H. I. A. S. ; 
 some with T. H. ; T. S. M. ; T. S. or 
 'I. S. others with K. M. ; II. M. A. S. K. ; 
 N. M. ; a single Kaf, a single Nun or 
 
 a single Sad, and sad work would it be 
 either for Kaffer or Mussulman to search 
 for meaning where none is. Gelaleddin 
 piously remarks that there is only One who 
 knoweth the import of these letters ; I 
 reverence the name which he uses too much 
 to employ it upon this occasion. Mahomet 
 himself tells us that they are the signs of the 
 Book which teacheth the true doctrine, 
 the Book of the Wise, the Book of 
 Evidence, the Book of Instruction. When 
 he speaketh thus of the Koran he lieth like 
 an impostor as he is : but what he has said 
 falsely of that false book may be applied 
 truly to this. It is the Book of Instruction 
 inasmuch as every individual reader among 
 the thousands and tens of thousands who 
 peruse it will find something in it which he 
 did not know before. It is the Book of 
 Evidence because of its internal truth. It 
 is the Book of the Wise, because the wiser a 
 man is the more he will delight therein ; 
 yea, the delight which he shall take in it 
 will be the measure of his intellectual capa- 
 city. And that it teacheth the true doctrine 
 is plain from this circumstance, that I defy 
 the British Critic, the Antijacobin, the 
 Quarterly and the Eclectic Reviews, ay, 
 and the Evangelical, the Methodist, the 
 Baptist, and the Orthodox Churchman's Ma- 
 gazine, with the Christian Observer to boot, 
 to detect any one heresy in it. Therefore I 
 say again, 
 
 Aballiboozobanganorribo, 
 
 and, like Mahomet, I say that it is the Sign 
 of the Book ; and therefore it is that I have 
 said it ; 
 
 Nondimen tie la lingua degli Hebrei 
 Ni la Latina, ne la Greca antica, 
 AV quella furse ancor degli Aramei.* 
 
 Happen it may, for things not less 
 strange have happened, and what has been 
 may be again ; for may be and has been 
 are only tenses of the same verb, and that 
 verb is eternally being declined : Hap- 
 pen I say it may ; and peradventure if it 
 may it must ; and certainly if it must it will : 
 but what with indicatives and subjunc- 
 
 * MOLZA.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 41 
 
 lives, presents, praeterperfects and paulo- 
 post-futura, the parenthesis is becoming too 
 long for the sentence, and I must begin it 
 again. A prudent author should never 
 exact too much from the breath or the 
 attention of his reader, to say nothing of 
 the brains. 
 
 Happen then it may that this Book may 
 outlive Lord Castlereagh's Peace, Mr. Pitt's 
 reputation (we will throw Mr. Fox's into the 
 bargain) ; Mr. Locke's Metaphysics, and the 
 Regent's Bridge in St. James's Park. It 
 may outlive the eloquence of Burke, the 
 discoveries of Davy, the poems of Words- 
 worth, and the victories of Wellington. It 
 may outlive the language in which it is 
 written ; and, in heaven knows what year of 
 heaven knows what era, be discovered by 
 some learned inhabitant of that continent 
 which the insects who make coral and ma- 
 drepore are now, and from the beginning 
 of the world have been, fabricating in the 
 Pacific Ocean. It may be dug up among 
 the ruins of London, and considered as one 
 of the sacred books of the sacred Island of 
 the West, for I cannot but hope that some 
 reverence will always be attached to this 
 most glorious and most happy island when 
 its power and happiness and glory, like those 
 of Greece, shall have passed away. It may 
 be deciphered and interpreted, and give 
 occasion to a new religion called Dovery or 
 Danielism, which may have its Chapels, 
 Churches, Cathedrals, Abbeys, Priories, Mo- 
 nasteries, Nunneries, Seminaries, Colleges, 
 and Universities ; its Synods, Consistories, 
 Convocations, and Councils ; its Acolytes, 
 Sacristans, Deacons, Priests, Archdeacons, 
 Rural Deans, Chancellors, Prebends, Canons, 
 Deans, Bishops, Archbishops, Prince Bishops, 
 Primates, Patriarchs, Cardinals, and Popes; 
 its most Catholic Kings, and its Kings most 
 Dovish or most Danielish. It may have 
 Commentators and Expounders (who can 
 doubt that it will have them ?) who will 
 leave unenlightened that which is dark, and 
 darken that which is clear. Various inter- 
 pretations will be given, and be followed by 
 as many sects. Schisms must ensue ; and 
 the tragedies, comedies, and farces, with all 
 
 the varieties of tragi-comedy and tragi-farce 
 or fareico-tragedy which have been repre- 
 sented in this old world, be enacted in that 
 younger one. Attack on the one side, de- 
 fence on the other ; high Dovers and low 
 Dovers ; Danielites of a thousand unima- 
 gined and unimaginable denominations ; 
 schisms, heresies, seditions, persecutions, 
 wars, the dismal game of Puss-catch- 
 corner played by a nation instead of a family 
 of children, and in dreadful earnest, when 
 power, property, and life are to be won and 
 lost! 
 
 But, without looking so far into the future 
 history of Dovery, let me exhort the learned 
 Australian to whom the honour is reserved 
 of imparting this treasure to his countrymen, 
 that he abstain from all attempts at disco- 
 vering the mysteries of Aballiboozobanga- 
 norribo! The unapocalyptical arcana of 
 that stupendous vocable are beyond his 
 reach ; so let him rest assured. Let him 
 not plunge into the fathomless depths of 
 that great word ; let him not attempt to 
 soar to its unapproachable heights. Perhaps, 
 and surely no man of judgement will sup- 
 pose that I utter any thing lightly, per- 
 haps, if the object were attainable, he might 
 have cause to repent its attainment. If too 
 " little learning be a dangerous thing," too 
 much is more so ; 
 
 D taper troppo qualche volta nuoce.* 
 
 " Curiosity," says Fuller, " is a kernel of 
 the Forbidden Fruit, which still sticketh in 
 the throat of a natural man, sometimes to 
 the danger of his choaking." 
 
 There is a knowledge which is forbidden 
 because it is dangerous. Remember the 
 Apple! Remember the beautiful tale of 
 Cupid and Psyche ! Remember Cornelius 
 Agrippa's library ; the youth who opened in 
 unhappy hour his magical volume ; and the 
 choice moral which Southey, who always 
 writes so morally, hath educed from that 
 profitable story ! Remember Bluebeard ! 
 But I am looking far into futurity. Blue- 
 beard may be forgotten; Southey may be 
 
 * MOLZA.
 
 42 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 J 
 
 forgotten ; Cornelius Agrippa may be no 
 more remembered ; Cupid and Psyche may 
 be mere names which shall have outlived 
 all tales belonging to them ; Adam and 
 Eve Enough. 
 
 Eat beans, if thou wilt, in spite of Pytha- 
 goras. Eat bacon with them, for the Levi- 
 tical law hath been abrogated : and indulge 
 in black-puddings, if thou likest such food, 
 though there be Methodists who prohibit 
 them as sinful. But abstain from Aballi- 
 boozobanganorribo. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. P. I. 
 
 THE HAPPINESS OF HAVING A CATHOLIC 
 TASTE. 
 
 There's no want of meat, Sir ; 
 Portly and curious viands are prepared 
 To please all kinds of appetites. MASSINGER. 
 
 A FASTIDIOUS taste is like a squeamish ap- 
 petite ; the one has its origin in some disease 
 of mind, as the other has in some ailment 
 of the stomach. Your true lover of litera- 
 ture is never fastidious. I do not mean the 
 helluo librorum, the swinish feeder, who 
 thinks that every name which is to be found 
 in a title-page, or on a tombstone, ought to 
 be rescued from oblivion ; nor those first 
 cousins of the moth, who labour under a 
 bulimy for black-letter, and believe every 
 thing to be excellent which was written in 
 the reign of Elizabeth. I mean the man of 
 robust and healthy intellect, who gathers the 
 harvest of literature into his barns, threshes 
 the straw, winnows the grain, grinds it at 
 his own mill, bakes it in his own oven, and 
 then eats the true bread of knowledge. If 
 he bake his loaf upon a cabbage leaf, and 
 eat onions with his bread and cheese, let 
 who will find fault with him for his taste, 
 not I! 
 
 The Doves, father as well as son, were 
 blest with a hearty intellectual appetite, and 
 a strong digestion : but the son had the 
 more catholic taste. He would have relished 
 caviare; would have ventured upon laver 
 undeterred by its appearance and would 
 have liked it. 
 
 What an excellent thing did Goci bestow on man, 
 When he did give him a good stomach ! * 
 
 He would have eaten sausages for break- 
 fast at Norwich, sally-luns at Bath, sweet 
 butter in Cumberland, orange marmalade 
 at Edinburgh, Findon haddocks at Aber- 
 deen, and drunk punch with beef-steaks to 
 oblige the French if they insisted upon 
 obliging him with a dejeuner d TAngloise. 
 
 A good digestion turneth all to health. f 
 
 He would have eaten squab-pie in De- 
 vonshire, and the pie which is squabber 
 than squab in Cornwall ; sheep's head with 
 the hair on in Scotland, and potatoes roasted 
 on the hearth in Ireland ; frogs with the 
 French, pickled herrings with the Dutch, 
 sour-krout with the Germans, maccaroni 
 with the Italians, aniseed with the Spaniards, 
 garlic with any body; horse-flesh with the 
 Tartars; ass-flesh with the Persians; dogs- 
 with the North Western American Indians, 
 curry with the Asiatic East Indians, birds' 
 nests with the Chinese, mutton roasted with 
 honey with the Turks, pismire cakes on the 
 Orinoco, and turtle and venison with the 
 Lord Mayor ; and the turtle and venison he 
 would have preferred to all the other dishes, 
 because his taste, though catholic, was not 
 indiscriminating. He would have tried all, 
 tasted all, thriven upon all, and lived content- 
 edly and cheerfully upon either, but he would 
 have liked best that which was best. And his 
 intellectual appetite had the same happy 
 Catholicism. 
 
 He would not have said with Euphues, 
 " If I be in Crete, I can lie ; if in Greece, I 
 can shift ; if in Italy, I can court it : " but 
 he might have said with him, " I can carouse 
 with Alexander ; abstain with Romulus ; 
 eat with the Epicure ; fast with the Stoic ; 
 sleep with Endymion ; watch with Chry- 
 sippus." 
 
 The reader will not have forgotten, I 
 trust, (but if he should I now remind him 
 of it,) that in the brief inventory of Daniel's 
 library there appeared some odd volumes of 
 that " book full of Pantagruelism," the in- 
 
 * BEAUMONT and FLETCHER. 
 
 t HERBERT.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 43 
 
 estimable life of the Great Gargantua. The 
 elder Daniel could make nothing of this 
 book ; and the younger, who was about ten 
 years old when he began to read it, less than 
 he could of the Pilgrim's Progress. But he 
 made out something. 
 
 Young Daniel was free from all the isms 
 in Lily, and from rhotacism to boot ; he was 
 clear too of schism, and all the worse isms 
 which have arisen from it: having by the 
 blessing of Providence been bred up not in 
 any denomination ending in ist or inian, or 
 erian or arian, but as a dutiful and con- 
 tented son of the Church of England. In 
 humour, however, he was by nature a Pan- 
 tagruelist. And, indeed, in his mature years 
 he always declared that one of the reasons 
 which had led him to reject the old hu- 
 moral pathology was, that it did not include 
 Pantagruelism, which, he insisted, depended 
 neither upon heat or cold, moisture or dry- 
 ness, nor upon any combination of those 
 qualities ; but was itself a peculiar and ele- 
 mentary humour ; a truth, he said, of which 
 he was feelingly and experimentally con- 
 vinced, and lauded the gods therefore. 
 
 Mr. Wordsworth, in that poem which Mr. 
 Jeffrey has said won't do (Mr. Jeffrey is 
 always lucky in his predictions whether as 
 a politician or a critic, bear witness, Wel- 
 lington ! bear witness, Wordsworth and 
 Southey ! bear witness, Elia and Lord 
 Byron !) Mr. Wordsworth, in that poem 
 which 
 
 The high and tender Muses shall accept 
 With gracious smile deliberately pleated, 
 And listening Time reward with sacred praise : 
 
 Mr. Wordsworth, in that noble poem, ob- 
 serves, 
 
 Oh many are the Poets that are sown 
 By nature ! 
 
 Among the emblems of Daniel Heinsius 
 (look at his head, reader, if thou hast a 
 collection of portraits to refer to, and thou 
 wilt marvel how so queer a conceit should 
 have entered it, for seldom has there been a 
 face more gnarled and knotted with crabbed 
 cogitation than that of this man, who was 
 one of the last of the Giants;) among his 
 emblems, I say, is one which represents 
 
 Cupid sowing a field, and little heads spring- 
 ing out of the ground on all sides, some up 
 to the neck, others to the shoulders, and 
 some with the arms out. If the crop were 
 examined, I agree with Mr. Wordsworth, 
 that poets should be found there as thick as 
 darnel in the corn ; and grave counsellors 
 would not be wanting whose advice would 
 be that they should be weeded out. 
 
 The Pantagruelists are scarcer. Greece 
 produced three great tragic poets, and only 
 one Aristophanes. The French had but one 
 Rabelais when the seven Pleiades shone in 
 their poetical hemisphere. We have seen a 
 succession of great Tragedians from Better- 
 ton to the present time ; and in all that time 
 there has been but one Grimaldi in whom 
 the Pantagruelism of Pantomine has found 
 its perfect representative. 
 
 And yet the reader must not hastily con- 
 clude that I think Pantagruelism a better 
 thing than Poetry, because it is rarer ; that 
 were imputing to me the common error of 
 estimating things by their rarity rather than 
 their worth, an error more vulgar than any 
 which Sir Thomas Brown has refuted. But 
 I do hold this, that all the greatest poets 
 have had a spice of Pantagruelism in their 
 composition, which I verily believe was es- 
 sential to their greatness. What the world 
 lost in losing the Margites of Homer we 
 know not, we only know that Homer had 
 there proved himself a Pantagruelist. Shake- 
 spear was a Pantagruelist ; so was Cer- 
 vantes ; and till the world shall have produced 
 two other men in whom that humour has 
 been wanting equal to these, I hold my 
 point established. 
 
 Some one objects Milton. I thank him 
 for the exception ; it is just such an excep- 
 tion as proves the rule ; for look only at 
 Milton's Limbo and you will see what a glo- 
 rious Pantagruelist he might have been, if 
 the Puritans had not spoilt him for Panta- 
 gruelism.
 
 44 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Tit 
 
 CHAPTER xvm. p. i. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 itri/u.trirOu art rev Xoyw 
 
 IP William Dove had been installed in 
 office, with cap and bells and bauble, he 
 would have been a Professor of Pantagruel- 
 ism, and might have figured in Flb'gel's 
 History of such Professors with Tyll Eulen- 
 spiegel, Piovano Arlotto, and Peter the 
 Lion ; and in Douce's Illustrations of Shake- 
 spear with Muckle John, Rees Pengelding, 
 and Robin Rush. The humour lay latent 
 till the boy his nephew hit the spring by 
 reading to him some of those chapters in 
 Rabelais which in their literal grotesqueness 
 were level to the capacity of both. These 
 readings led to a piece of practical Panta- 
 gruelism, for which William would have 
 been whipt if he had worn a Fool's coat. 
 
 One unlucky day, Dan was reading to 
 him that chapter wherein young Gargantua 
 relates the course of experiments which he 
 had made with a velvet mask, a leaf of ver- 
 vain, his mother's glove, a lappet worked 
 with gold thread, a bunch of nettles, and 
 other things more or less unfit for the pur- 
 pose to which they were applied. To those 
 who are acquainted with the history of 
 Grandgousier's royal family, I need not 
 explain what that purpose was ; nor must I 
 to those who are not, (for reasons that re- 
 quire no explanation,) farther than to say, it 
 was the same purpose for which that wild 
 enigma (the semi-composition of the Sphinx's 
 Ghost) was designed, that enigma of all 
 enigmas the wildest, 
 
 On which was written 
 
 William had frequently interrupted him 
 with bursts of laughter ; but when they 
 came to that crowning experiment in which 
 Gargantua thought he had found the beau 
 ideal of what he was seeking, William clapt 
 his hands, and with an expression of glee in 
 his countenance worthy of Eulenspiegel him- 
 self, exclaimed, " Thou shalt try the Goose, 
 Dan ! thou shalt try the Goose ! " 
 
 So with William's assistance the Goose 
 was tried. They began with due prudence, 
 according to rule, by catching a Goose. 
 In this matter a couple of Ducks, Lord 
 Lauderdale knows, would not have answered 
 as well. The boy then having gone through 
 the ceremony which the devotees of Baal 
 are said to have performed at the foot of his 
 Image, as the highest act of devotion, (an 
 act of super-reverence it was,) and for which 
 the Jews are said to have called him in 
 mockery Baalzebul instead of Baalzebub ; 
 cried out that he was ready. He was 
 at that moment in the third of those eight 
 attitudes which form a RiKath. My readers 
 who are versed in the fashionable poets of 
 the day (this day I mean their fashion 
 not being insured for to-morrow) such 
 readers, I say, know that a rose is called a 
 ghul, and a nightingale a bulbul, and that 
 this is one way of dressing up English 
 Poetry in Turkish Costume. But if they 
 desire to learn a little more of what Maho- 
 metan customs are, they may consult D'Ohs- 
 son's Tableau of the Ottoman Empire, and 
 there they may not only find the eight atti- 
 tudes described, but see them represented. 
 Of the third attitude or Rukeou, as it is de- 
 nominated, I shall only say that the Ancients 
 represented one of their Deities in it, and 
 that it is the very attitude in which As in 
 prcesenti committed that notorious act for 
 which he is celebrated in scholastic and im- 
 mortal rhyme, and for which poor Syntax 
 bore the blame. Verbum nit sat sapieiiti. 
 During the reign of Liberty and Equality 
 a Frenchman was guillotined for exemplify- 
 ing it under Marat's Monument in the Place 
 du Carousal. 
 
 The bird was brought, but young Daniel 
 had not the strength of young Gargantua ; 
 the goose, being prevented by William from 
 drawing back, pressed forward ; they were 
 by the side of the brook, and the boy by this 
 violent and unexpected movement was, as 
 the French would say in the politest and 
 most delicate of all languages, culbute, or in 
 sailors' English, capsized into the water. 
 The misfortune did not end there ; for, fall- 
 ing with his forehead against a stone, he
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 4-5 
 
 received a cut upon the brow, which left a 
 scar as long as he lived. 
 
 It was not necessary to prohibit a repeti- 
 tion of what William called the speriment. 
 Both had been sufficiently frightened ; and 
 William never felt more pain of mind than 
 on this occasion, when the Father, with a 
 shake of the head, a look of displeasure, and 
 a low voice, told him he ought to have known 
 better than to have put the lad upon such 
 pranks ! 
 
 The mishap, however, was not without its 
 use. For, in after life, when Daniel felt an 
 inclination to do any thing which might 
 better be left undone, the recollection that he 
 had tried the goose served as a salutary me- 
 mento, and saved him, perhaps, sometimes 
 from worse consequences. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. P. I. 
 
 A CONVERSATION WITH MISS GBAVEAIKS. 
 
 Operi susccpio inserviendum fuit ; so Jacobus Mycillus 
 pleadeth for himself in his translation of Lucian's Dia- 
 logues, and so do I ; I must and will perform my task. 
 
 BURTON. 
 
 " IT does not signify, Miss Graveairs ! you 
 may flirt your fan, and overcloud that white 
 forehead with a frown ; but I assure you 
 the last chapter could not be dispensed with. 
 The Doctor used to relate the story himself 
 to his friends ; and often alluded to it as the 
 most wholesome lesson he had ever received. 
 My dear Miss Graveairs, let not those intel- 
 ligent eyes shoot forth in anger arrows 
 which ought to be reserved for other execu- 
 tion. You ought not to be displeased ; 
 ought not, must not, can not, shall not ! " 
 
 " But you ought not to write such things, 
 Mr. Author ; really you ought not. What 
 can be more unpleasant than to be reading 
 aloud, and come unexpectedly upon some- 
 thing so strange that you know not whether 
 to proceed or make a full stop, nor where 
 to look, nor what to do ? It is too bad of 
 you, Sir, let me tell you ! and if I come to 
 any thing more of the kind, I must discard 
 the book. It is provoking enough to meet 
 
 with so much that one does not understand ; 
 but to meet with any thing that one ought 
 not to understand, is worse. Sir, it is not to 
 be forgiven ; and I tell you again, that if I 
 meet with any thing more of the same kind, 
 I must discard the book." 
 
 " Nay, dear Miss Graveairs ! " 
 
 " I must, Mr. Author ; positively I must." 
 
 " Nay, dear Miss Graveairs ! Banish Tris- 
 tram Shandy ! banish Smollett, banish 
 Fielding, banish Richardson ! But for the 
 Doctor, sweet Doctor Dove, kind Doctor 
 Dove, true Doctor Dove, banish not him ! 
 Banish Doctor Dove, and banish all the 
 world ! Come, come, good sense is getting 
 the better of preciseness. That stitch in 
 the forehead will not long keep the brows 
 in their constrained position ; and the in- 
 cipient smile which already brings out that 
 dimple, is the natural and proper feeling." 
 
 " Well, you are a strange man ! " 
 
 " Call me a rare one, and I shall be satis- 
 fied. ' O rare Ben Jonson,' you know, was 
 epitaph enough for one of our greatest 
 men." 
 
 " But seriously, why should you put any 
 thing in your book, which, if not actually 
 exceptionable, exposes it at least to that 
 sort of censure which is most injurious?" 
 
 "That question, dear Madam, is so sen- 
 sibly proposed, that I will answer it with all 
 serious sincerity. There is nothing excep- 
 tionable in these volumes ; ' Certes,' as Eu- 
 phues Lily has said, ' I think there be more 
 speeches here which for gravity will mislike 
 the foolish, than unseemly terms which for 
 vanity may ofFend the wise.' There is 
 nothing in them that I might not have read 
 to Queen Elizabeth, if it had been my for- 
 tune to have lived in her golden days ; 
 nothing that can by possibility taint the 
 imagination, or strengthen one evil propen- 
 sity, or weaken one virtuous principle. But 
 they are not composed like a forgotten 
 novel of Dr. Towers' s, to be read aloud in 
 dissenting families instead of a moral essay, 
 or a sermon ; nor like Mr. Kett's Emily, to 
 complete the education of young ladies by 
 supplying them with an abstract of universal 
 knowledge. Neither have they any preten-
 
 4G 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 sions to be placed on the same shelf with 
 Coelebs. But the book is a moral book ; its 
 tendency is good, and the morality is both 
 the wholesomer and pleasanter because it is 
 not administered as physic, but given as 
 food. I don't like morality in doses." 
 
 " But why, my good Mr. Author, why lay 
 yourself open to censure ? " 
 
 " Miss Graveairs, nothing excellent was 
 ever produced by any author who had the 
 fear of censure before his eyes. He who 
 would please posterity must please himself 
 by choosing his own course. There are 
 only two classes of writers who dare do this, 
 the best and the worst, for this is one of 
 the many cases in which extremes meet. 
 The mediocres in every grade aim at pleas- 
 ing the public, and conform themselves to the 
 fashion of their age whatever it may be." 
 
 My Doctor, like the Matthew Henderson 
 of Burns, was a queer man, and in that re- 
 spect, I, his friend and biographer, humbly 
 resemble him. The resemblance may be 
 natural, or I may have caught it, this I 
 pretend not to decide, but so it is. Perhaps 
 it might have been well if I had resolved 
 upon a farther designation of Chapters, and 
 distributed them into Masculine and Femi- 
 nine ; or into the threefold arrangement 
 of virile, femiuile, and puerile ; considering 
 the book as a family breakfast, where there 
 should be meat for men, muffins for women, 
 and milk for children. Or I might have 
 adopted the device of the Porteusian So- 
 ciety, and marked my chapters as they (very 
 usefully) have done the Bible, pointing out 
 what should be read by all persons for edifi- 
 cation, and what may be passed over by the 
 many, as instructive or intelligible only to 
 the learned. 
 
 Here, however, the book is, 
 
 An orchard bearing several trees, 
 And fruits of several taste.* 
 
 Ladies and Gentlemen, my gentle Readers, 
 one of our liveliest and most popular old 
 Dramatists knew so well the capricious hu- 
 mour of an audience that he made his Pro- 
 logue say 
 
 * MIDDLETON and ROWLEY'S Spanish Gipsey. 
 
 He'd rather dress upon a Triumph-Day 
 
 My Lord Mayor's Feast, and make them sauces too, 
 
 Sauce for each several mouth ; nay further go, 
 
 He'd rather build up those invincible Pies 
 
 And Castle-Custards that affright all eyes, 
 
 Nay, eat them all and their artillery, 
 
 Than dress for such a curious company, 
 
 One single dish. 
 
 But I, gentle Readers, have set before yon 
 a table liberally spread. It is not expected 
 or desired that every dish should suit the 
 palate of all the guests, but every guest will 
 find something that he likes. You, Madam, 
 may prefer those boiled chicken, with 
 stewed celery, or a little of that frican- 
 deau ; the Lady opposite will send her 
 plate for some pigeon pie. The Doctor has 
 an eye upon the venison and so I see has 
 the Captain. Sir, I have not forgotten 
 that this is one of your fast days I am 
 glad, therefore, that the turbot proves so 
 good, and that dish has been prepared for 
 you. Sir John, there is garlic in the fri- 
 cassee. The Hungarian wine has a bitterness 
 which everybody may not like ; the Ladies 
 will probably prefer Malmsey. The Cap- 
 tain sticks to his Port, and the Doctor to 
 his Madeira. Sir John, I shall be happy 
 to take Sauterne with you. There is a 
 splendid trifle for the young folks, which 
 some of the elders also will not despise : 
 and I only wish my garden could have fur- 
 nished a better dessert ; but, considering our 
 climate, it is not amiss. Is not this enter- 
 tainment better than if I had set you all 
 down to a round of beef and turnips ? 
 
 If any thing be set to a wrong taste, 
 
 Tis not the meat there, but the mouth's displaced ; 
 
 Remove but that sick palate, all is well.* 
 
 Like such a dinner I would have my 
 book, something for everybody's taste, and 
 all good of its kind. 
 
 It ought also to resemble the personage 
 of whom it treats ; and 
 
 If ony whiggish whingin sot 
 To blame the Doctor dare, man ; 
 
 May dool and sorrow be his lot, 
 For the Doctor was a rare man ! f 
 
 Some whiggish sots, I dare say, will blame 
 him, and whiggish sots they will be who do ! 
 
 * BEN JONSON. 
 
 t BURNS.
 
 THE DOCTOR, 
 
 47 
 
 "En un mot; mes amis,je riai entrepris de 
 vous contenter tons en general; ainsi uns et 
 autres en particidier, et par special, moy- 
 meme." * 
 
 CHAPTER XX. P. I. 
 
 HOW TO MAKE GOLD. 
 
 L'AlchimisIa non travaglia a voto ; 
 
 E> cerca f oro, ef cerca V oro, io dico 
 
 Ck' ei cerca I' oro ; e s' eigiungesse in porto 
 
 Fora ben per se stesso e per altrui. 
 
 L' oro e somnru posanza infra mortali ; 
 
 Chiedine a Cavalier, chiedine a Dame, 
 
 Chiedine a tvtlo il Mondo. CHIABKERA. 
 
 WILLIAM had heard so much about experi- 
 ments that it is not surprising he should 
 have been for making some himself. It was 
 well indeed for his family that the speculative 
 mind, which lay covered rather than con- 
 cealed under the elder Daniel's ruminating 
 manners, and quiet contented course of life, 
 was not quickened by his acquaintance with 
 the schoolmaster into an experimental and 
 dangerous activity, instead of being satisfied 
 with theoretical dreams. For Guy had 
 found a book in that little collection which 
 might have produced more serious con- 
 sequences to the father than the imitation 
 of Gargantua had done to the son. 
 
 This book was the Exposition of 
 Eirenams Philalethes upon Sir George 
 Ripley's Hermetico-Poetical works. Daniel 
 had formerly set as little value upon it as 
 upon Rabelais. He knew indeed what its 
 purport was; thus much he had gathered 
 from it : but although it professed to con- 
 tain " the plainest and most excellent dis- 
 coveries of the most hidden secrets of the 
 Ancient Philosophers that were ever yet 
 published," it was to him as unintelligible 
 as the mysteries of Pantagruelism. He could 
 make nothing of the work that was to ascend 
 in Bus and Nubi from the Moon up to the 
 Sun, though the Expositor had expounded 
 that this was in Nubibus; nor of the Lake 
 which was to be boiled with the ashes of 
 Hermes's Tree, night and day without ceas- 
 
 * PASQUIER. 
 
 ing, till the Heavenly Nature should ascend 
 and the Earthly descend : nor of the Crow's 
 bill, the White Dove, the Sparkling Che- 
 rubim, and the Soul of the Green Lion. But 
 he took those cautions simply and honestly 
 as cautions, which were in fact the lures 
 whereby so many infatuated persons had 
 been drawn on to their own undoing. The 
 author had said that his work was not writ- 
 ten for the information of the illiterate, and 
 illiterate Daniel knew himself to be. " Our 
 writings," says the dark Expositor, " shall 
 prove as a curious edged knife ; to some 
 they shall carve out dainties, and to others 
 it shall serve only to cut their fingers. Yet 
 we are not to be blamed ; for we do seriously 
 profess to any that shall attempt the work, 
 that he attempts the highest piece of phi- 
 losophy that is in Nature ; and though we 
 write in English, yet our matter will be as 
 hard as Greek to some, who will think they 
 understand us well, when they misconstrue 
 our meaning most perversely ; for is it ima- 
 ginable that they who are fools in Nature 
 should be wise in our Books, which are 
 testimonies unto Nature ? " And again, 
 " Make sure of thy true matter, which is no 
 small thing to know ; and though we have 
 named it, yet we have done it so cunningly, 
 that thou niayest sooner stumble at our 
 Books than at any thou ever didst read in 
 thy life. Be not deceived either with re- 
 ceipt or discourse; for we verily do not 
 intend to deceive you ; but if you will be 
 deceived, be deceived ! Our way, which is 
 an easy way, and in which no man may err, 
 our broad way, our linear way, we have 
 vowed never to reveal it but in metaphor. 
 I, being moved with pity, will hint it to you. 
 Take that which is not yet perfect, nor yet 
 wholly imperfect, but in a way to perfection, 
 and out of it make what is most noble and 
 most perfect. This you may conceive to be 
 an easier receipt than to take that which is 
 already perfect, and extract out of it what is 
 imperfect and make it perfect, and after out 
 of that perfection to draw a plusquam per- 
 fection ; and yet this is true, and we have 
 wrought it. But this last discovery, which 
 I hinted in few words, is it which no man
 
 48 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 ever did so plainly lay open ; nor may 
 any make it more plain upon pain of an 
 anathema." 
 
 All this was heathen Greek to Daniel, 
 except the admonition which it con- 
 tained. But Guy had meddled with this 
 perilous pseudo-science, and used to talk 
 with him concerning its theory, which 
 Daniel soon comprehended, and which like 
 many other theories wanted nothing but a 
 foundation to rest upon. That every thing 
 had its own seed as well as its own form 
 seemed a reasonable position ; and that the 
 fermental virtue, " which is the wonder of 
 the world, and by which water becomes 
 herbs, trees and plants, fruits, flesh, blood, 
 stones, minerals and every thing, works 
 only in kind. Was it not then absurd to 
 allow that the fermentive and multiplicative 
 power existed in almost all other things, and 
 yet deny it to Gold, the most perfect of all 
 sublunary things?" The secret lay in ex- 
 tracting from Gold its hidden seed. 
 
 Ben Jonson has with his wonted ability 
 presented the theory of this delusive art. 
 His knavish Alchemist asks of an unbeliever, 
 
 Why, what have you observed, Sir, in our art, 
 
 Seems so impossible ? 
 Surly. But your whole work, no more ! 
 
 That you should hatch gold in a furnace, Sir, 
 
 As they do eggs in Egypt. 
 Subtle. Sir, do you 
 
 Believe that eggs are hatch'd so ? 
 Surly. If I should ? 
 
 Subtle. Why, I think that the greater miracle. 
 
 No egg but differs from a chicken more 
 
 Than metals in themselves. 
 Surly. That cannot be. 
 
 The egg's ordained by nature to that end, 
 
 And is a chicken inpotentia. 
 Subtle. The same we say of lead and other metals, 
 
 Which would be gold if they had time. 
 Mammon. And that 
 
 Our art doth further. 
 Subtle. Ay, for 'twere absurd 
 
 To think that nature in the earth bred gold 
 
 Perfect in the instant : something went before. 
 
 There must be remote matter. 
 
 Surly. Ay, what is that ? 
 
 Subtle. Marry we say 
 Mammon. Ay, now it heats ; stand, father ; 
 
 Pound him to dust. 
 Subtle. It is, of the one part, 
 
 A humid exhalation, which we cal. 
 
 Materia liquida, or the unctuous water ; 
 
 On the other part a certain crass and viscous 
 
 Portion of earth ; both which concorporate 
 
 Do make the elementary matter of gold ; 
 
 Which is not yet propria materia, 
 
 But common to all metals and all stones ; 
 For where it is forsaken of that moisture, 
 And hath more dryness, it becomes a stone ; 
 Where it retains more of the humid fatness, 
 It turns to sulphur, or to quicksilver, 
 Who are the parents of all other metaU. 
 Nor can this remote matter suddenly 
 Progress so from extreme unto extreme, 
 As to grow gold, and leap o'er all the means. 
 Nature doth first beget the imperfect, then 
 Proceeds she to the perfect. Of that airy 
 And oily water, mercury is engendered ; 
 Sulphur of the fat and earthy part ; the one, 
 Which is the last, supplying the place of male, 
 The other of the female in all metals. 
 Some so believe hermaphrodeity, 
 That both do act and suffer. But these too 
 Make the rest ductile, malleable, extensive. 
 And even in gold they are ; for we do find 
 Seeds of them, by our fire, and gold in them ; 
 And can produce the species of each metal 
 More perfect thence than nature doth in earth. 
 
 I have no cause to say here, with Sheik 
 Mohammed AH Hazin, that " taste for poeti- 
 cal and elegant composition has turned the 
 reins of my ink-dropping pen away from the 
 road which lay before it : " for this passage 
 of learned Ben lay directly in the way ; and 
 no where, Reader, couldst thou find the 
 theory of the Alchemists more ably epi- 
 tomised. 
 
 " Father," said the boy Daniel one day, 
 after listening to a conversation upon this 
 subject, " I should like to learn to make 
 gold." 
 
 " And what wouldst thou do, Daniel, if 
 thou couldst make it ? '' was the reply. 
 
 " Why I would build a great house, and 
 fill it with books ; and have as much money 
 as the King, and be as great a man as the 
 Squire." 
 
 " Mayhap, Daniel, in that case thou 
 wouldst care for books as little as the 
 Squire, and have as little time for them as 
 the King. Learning is better than house 
 or land. As for money, enough is enough ; 
 no man can enjoy more ; and the less he can 
 be contented with the wiser and better he is 
 likely to be. What, Daniel, does our good 
 poet tell us in the great verse-book ? 
 
 Nature's with little pleased ; enough's a feast : 
 A sober life but a small charge requires : 
 But man, the author of his own unrest, 
 The more he hath, the more he still desires. 
 
 No, boy, thou canst never be as rich as the
 
 THE DOCTOR, 
 
 49 
 
 King, nor as great as the Squire; but them 
 mayest be a Philosopher, and that is being 
 as happy as either." 
 
 " A great deal happier," said Guy. " The 
 Squire is as far from being the happiest man 
 in the neighbourhood, as he is from being the 
 wisest or the best. And the King, God bless 
 him ! has care enough upon his head to bring 
 on early grey hairs. 
 
 Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown." 
 
 "But what does a Philosopher do?" re- 
 joined the boy. " The Squire hunts and 
 shoots and smokes, and drinks punch and 
 goes to Justice-Meetings. And the King 
 goes to fight for us against the French, and 
 governs the Parliament, and makes laws. 
 But I cannot tell what a Philosopher's busi- 
 ness is. Do they do any thing else besides 
 making Almanacks and gold ? " 
 
 " Yes," said William, " they read the 
 stars." 
 
 " And what do they read there ?" 
 
 " AVhat neither thou nor I can under- 
 stand, Daniel," replied the father, " however 
 nearly it may concern us ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. P. I. 
 
 A DOUBT CONCERNING THE USES OF 
 PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 El comienzo de salud 
 ei el saber, 
 distingufr y conocer 
 gun I es virtud. 
 PROVERBIOS DEL MARQUES DE SANTILLANA. 
 
 THAT grave reply produced a short pause. 
 It was broken by the boy, who said, return- 
 ing to the subject, " I have been thinking, 
 Father, that it is not a good thing to be a 
 Philosopher." 
 
 " And what, my Son, has led thee to that 
 thought ? " 
 
 " What I have read at the end of the Dic- 
 tionary, Father. There was one Philosopher 
 that was pounded in a mortar." 
 
 " That, Daniel," said the Father, " could 
 
 neither have been the Philosopher's fault 
 nor his choice." 
 
 "But it was because he was a Philosopher, 
 my lad," said Guy, " that he bore it so 
 bravely, and said, beat on, you can only 
 bruise the shell of Anaxarchus! If he had 
 not been a Philosopher they might have 
 pounded him just the same, but they would 
 never have put him in the Dictionary. 
 Epictetus in like manner bore the torments 
 which his wicked master inflicted upon him, 
 without a groan, only saying, ' Take care, or 
 you will break my leg;' and when the leg 
 was broken, he looked the wretch in the face 
 and said, ' I told you you would break it.' " 
 
 " But," said the youngster, " there was 
 one Philosopher who chose to live in a tub ; 
 and another who, that he might never again 
 see any thing to withdraw his mind from 
 meditation, put out his eyes by looking upon 
 a bright brass basin, such as I cured my 
 warts in." 
 
 " He might have been a wise man," said 
 William Dove, " but not wondrous wise : 
 for if he had, he would not have used the 
 basin to put his eyes out. He would have 
 jumped into a quickset hedge, and scratched 
 them out, like the Man of our Town ; be- 
 cause when he saw his eyes were out, he 
 might then have jumped into another hedge 
 and scratched them in again. The Man of 
 our Town was the greatest philosopher of 
 the two." 
 
 " And there was one," continued the boy, 
 "who had better have blinded himself at 
 once, for he did nothing else but cry at 
 every thing he saw. Was not this being 
 very foolish ? " 
 
 " I am sure," says William, " it was not 
 being merry and wise." 
 
 " There was another who said that hunger 
 was his daily food." 
 
 " He must have kept such a table as Duke 
 Humphrey," quoth William ; " I should not 
 have liked to dine with him." 
 
 " Then there was Crates," said the perse- 
 vering boy ; " he had a good estate and sold 
 it and threw the money into the sea, saying, 
 ' Away ye paltry cares ! I will drown you 
 that you may not drown me.'"
 
 50 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 " I should like to know," quoth William, 
 " what the overseers said to that chap, when 
 he applied to the parish for support." 
 
 " They sent him off to Bedlam, I suppose," 
 said the Mother, " it was the fit place for 
 him, poor creature." 
 
 " And when Aristippus set out upon a 
 journey he bade his servants throw away all 
 their money, that they might travel the 
 better. Why they must have begged their 
 way, 'and it cannot be right to beg if people 
 are not brought to it by misfortune. And 
 there were some who thought there was no 
 God. I am sure they were fools, for the 
 Bible says so." 
 
 "Well, Daniel," said Guy, "thou hast 
 studied the end of the Dictionary to some 
 purpose ! " 
 
 " And the Bible too, Master Guy ! " said 
 Dinah, her countenance brightening with 
 joy at her son's concluding remark. 
 
 " It's the best part of the book," said the 
 boy, replying to his schoolmaster ; " there are 
 more entertaining and surprising things 
 there than I ever read in any other place, 
 except in my Father's book about Panta- 
 gruel." 
 
 CHAPTER XXH. P. I. 
 
 Tbv S 1 a 
 
 Ofelice colui, che intender puote 
 Le cagion de le cose di natura, 
 Che al piu di que' che vivon sono ignote ; 
 
 E sot to il pie si mette ogni paura 
 Defati, e de la marie, ch'e si trista, 
 Nedivulgoglical, ni d'a/tro ha cura. 
 
 TANSILLO. 
 
 THE elder Daniel had listened to this dia- 
 logue in his usual quiet way, smiling some- 
 times at his brother William's observations. 
 He now stroked his forehead, and looking 
 mildly but seriously at the boy addressed 
 him thus. 
 
 " My son, many things appear strange or 
 silly in themselves if they are presented to 
 us simply, without any notice when and 
 where they were done, and upon what occa- 
 
 sion. If any strangers, for example, had seen 
 thee washing thy hands in an empty basin, 
 without knowing the philosophy of the 
 matter, they would have taken thee for an 
 innocent, and thy master and me for little 
 better ; or they might have supposed some 
 conjuring was going on. The things which 
 the old Philosophers said and did, would 
 appear, I dare say, as wise to us as they did 
 to the people of their own times, if we knew 
 why and in what circumstances they were 
 done and said. 
 
 " Daniel, there are two sorts of men in all 
 ranks and ways of life, the wise and the 
 foolish ; and there are a great many degrees 
 between them. That some foolish people 
 have called themselves Philosophers, and 
 some wicked ones, and some who were out 
 of their wits, is just as certain as that per- 
 sons of all these descriptions are to be found 
 among all conditions of men. 
 
 " Philosophy, Daniel, is of two kinds : that 
 which relates to conduct, and that which re- 
 lates to knowledge. The first teaches us to 
 value all things at their real worth, to be 
 contented with little, modest in prosperity, 
 patient in trouble, equal-minded at all 
 times. It teaches us our duty to our neigh- 
 bour and ourselves. It is that wisdom of 
 which King Solomon speaks in our rhyme- 
 book. Reach me the volume ! " Then turn- 
 ing to the passage in his favourite Du Bartas 
 he read these lines : 
 
 " She's God's own mirror ; she's a light whose glance 
 Springs from the lightening of his countenance. 
 She's mildest heaven's most sacred influence ; 
 Never decays her beauties' excellence, 
 Aye like herself; and she doth always trace 
 Not only the same path but the same pace. 
 Without her honour, health and wealth would prove 
 Three poisons to me. Wisdom from above 
 Is the only moderatrix, spring and guide, 
 Organ and honour of all gifts beside." 
 
 " But let us look in the Bible : aye, this 
 is the place. 
 
 "For in her is an understanding spirit, 
 holy, one only, manifold, subtil, lively, clear, 
 undefiled, plain, not subject to hurt, loving 
 the thing that is good, quick, which cannot 
 be letted, ready to do good ; 
 
 " Kind to man, steadfast, sure, free from
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 L 
 
 care, having all power, overseeing all things, 
 and going through all understanding, pure, 
 and most subtil, spirits. 
 
 " For wisdom is more moving than any 
 motion : she passeth and goeth through all 
 things by reason of her pureness. 
 
 " For she is the breath of the power of 
 God, and a pure influence, flowing from the 
 glory of the Almighty; therefore can no de- 
 nied thing fall into her. 
 
 " For she is the brightness of the ever- 
 lasting light, the unspotted mirror of the 
 power of God, and the image of his goodness. 
 
 "And being but one she can do all things ; 
 and remaining in herself she maketh all 
 things new : and in all ages entering into 
 holy souls she maketh them friends of God, 
 and prophets. 
 
 "For God loveth none but him that 
 dwelleth with wisdom. 
 
 " For she is more beautiful than the Sun, 
 and above all the order of Stars : being com- 
 pared with the light she is found before it. 
 
 " For after this cometh night : but vice 
 shall not prevail against wisdom." 
 
 He read this with a solemnity that gave 
 weight to every word. Then closing the 
 book, after a short pause, he proceeded in a 
 lower tone. 
 
 " The Philosophers of whom you have read 
 in the Dictionary possessed this wisdom only 
 in part, because they were heathens, and 
 therefore could see no farther than the light 
 of mere reason sufficed to show the way. 
 The fear of the Lord is the beginning of 
 wisdom, and they had not that to begin with. 
 So the thoughts which ought to have made 
 them humble produce pride, and so far their 
 wisdom proved but folly. The humblest 
 Christian who learns his duty, and performs 
 it as well as he can, is wiser than they. He 
 does nothing to be seen of men ; and that 
 was their motive for most of their actions. 
 
 " Now for the philosophy which relates to 
 knowledge. Knowledge is a brave thing. 
 I am a plain, ignorant, untaught man, and 
 know my ignorance. But it is a brave thing 
 when we look around us in this wonderful 
 world to understand something of what we 
 see : to know something of the earth on 
 
 which we move, the air which we breathe, 
 and the elements whereof we are made : to 
 comprehend the motions of the moon and 
 stars, and measure the distances between 
 them, and compute times and seasons : to 
 observe the laws which sustain the universe 
 by keeping all things in their courses : to 
 search into the mysteries of nature, and dis- 
 cover the hidden virtue of plants and stones, 
 and read the signs and tokens which are 
 shown us, and make out the meaning of 
 hidden things, and apply all this to the 
 benefit of our fellow-creatures. 
 
 " Wisdom and knowledge, Daniel, make 
 the difference between man and man, and 
 that between man and beast is hardly 
 greater. 
 
 " These things do not always go together. 
 There may be wisdom without knowledge, 
 and there maybe knowledge without wisdom. 
 A man without knowledge, if he walk humbly 
 with his God, and live in charity with his 
 neighbours, may be wise unto salvation. A 
 man without wisdom may not find his know- 
 ledge avail him quite so well. But it is he 
 who possesses both that is the true Philoso- 
 pher. The more he knows, the more he is 
 desirous of knowing ; and yet the farther he 
 advances in knowledge the better he under- 
 stands how little he can attain, and the more 
 deeply he feels that God alone can satisfy 
 the infinite desires of an immortal soul. To 
 understand this is the height and perfection 
 of philosophy." 
 
 Then opening the Bible which lay before 
 him, he read these verses from the Proverbs. 
 
 " My son, if thou wilt receive my words, 
 
 " So that thou incline thine ear unto wis- 
 dom and apply thine heart to understanding ; 
 
 " Yea, if thou criest after knowledge, and 
 liftest up thy voice for understanding ; 
 
 " If thou seekest after her as silver, and 
 searchest for her as for hid treasures ; 
 
 " Then shalt thou understand the fear of 
 the Lord and find the knowledge of God. 
 
 "For the Lordgiveth wisdom; out of His 
 mouth cometh knowledge and understanding. 
 
 " He layeth up sound wisdom for the 
 righteous ; He is a buckler to them that 
 walk uprightly.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 "He keepeth the paths of judgement and 
 preserveth the way of his Saints. 
 
 " Then shalt thou understand righteous- 
 ness and judgement and equity ; yea, every 
 good path. 
 
 " When wisdom entereth into thine heart, 
 and knowledge is pleasant unto thy soul ; 
 
 " Discretion shall preserve thee, under- 
 standing shall keep thee, 
 
 " To deliver thee from the way of the evil." * 
 
 " Daniel, my son," after a pause he pur- 
 sued, " thou art a diligent good lad. God 
 hath given thee a tender and a dutiful 
 heart ; keep it so, and it will be a wise one, 
 for thou hast the beginning of wisdom. I 
 wish thee to pursue knowledge, because in 
 pursuing it happiness will be found by the 
 way. If I have said any thing now which 
 is above thy years, it will come to mind in 
 after time, when I am gone perhaps, but 
 when thou mayest profit by it. God bless 
 thee, my child ! " 
 
 He stretched out his right hand at these 
 words, and laid it gently upon the boy's 
 head. What he said was not forgotten, and 
 throughout life the son never thought of 
 that blessing without feeling that it had 
 taken effect. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. P. I. 
 
 ROWLAND DIXON AND HIS COMPANY OP 
 PUPPETS. 
 
 ve tan eficaz el llanlo, 
 lasjabulas y historias retratadas, 
 que parece verdad, y es dulce encanto. 
 
 Ypara el vulgo rudo, que ignorante 
 aborrece el manjar cosloso, guisa 
 el plato del gracioso eztravagante ; 
 
 Con que les htirlas de contcnto y lisa, 
 gustando de mirar sayal grossero, 
 mas que sutil y Candida camisa. 
 
 JOSEPH ORTIZ DE VII.LENA. 
 
 WERE it not for that happy facility with 
 which the mind in such cases commonly 
 satisfies itself, my readers would find it not 
 
 * I am not sure whether man Is left out advisedly, but 
 I suspect it is. 
 
 more easy to place themselves in imngination 
 at Ingleton a hundred years ago, than at 
 Thebes or Athens, so strange must it appear 
 to them, that a family should have existed, 
 in humble but easy circumstances, among 
 whose articles of consumption neither tea 
 nor sugar had a place, who never raised 
 potatoes in their garden, nor saw them at 
 their table, and who never wore a cotton 
 garment of any kind. 
 
 Equally unlike any thing to which my 
 contemporaries have been accustomed, must 
 it be for them to hear of an Englishman 
 whose talk was of philosophy, moral or spe- 
 culative, not of politics ; who read books in 
 folio and had never seen a newspaper ; nor 
 ever heard of a magazine, review, or literary 
 journal of any kind. Not less strange must 
 it seem to them who, if they please, may 
 travel by steam at the rate of thirty miles 
 an hour upon the Liverpool and Manchester 
 railway, or at ten miles an hour by stage 
 upon any of the more frequented roads, to 
 consider the little intercourse which, in those 
 days, was carried on between one part of 
 the kingdom and another. During young 
 Daniel's boyhood, and for many years after 
 he had reached the age of manhood, the 
 whole carriage of the northern counties, and 
 indeed of all the remoter parts, was per- 
 formed by pack-horses, the very name of 
 which would long since have been as obso- 
 lete as their use, if it had not been preserved 
 by the sign or appellation of some of those 
 inns at which they were accustomed to put 
 up. Rarely, indeed, were the roads about 
 Ingleton marked by any other wheels than 
 those of its indigenous carts. 
 
 That little town, however, obtained con- 
 siderable celebrity in those days, as being 
 the home and head quarters of Rowland 
 Dixon, the Gesticulator Maximus, or Pup- 
 pet-show-master-general, of the North; a 
 person not less eminent in his line than 
 Powel, whom the Spectator has immorta- 
 lised. 
 
 My readers must not form their notion of 
 Rowland Dixon's company from the am- 
 bulatory puppet-shows which of late years 
 have added new sights and sounds to the
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 53 
 
 spectacles and cries of London. Far be it 
 from me to depreciate those peripatetic 
 street exhibitions, which you may have be- 
 fore your window at a call, and by which 
 the hearts of so many children are con- 
 tinually delighted : Nay, I confess that few 
 things in that great city carry so much 
 comfort to the cockles of my own, as the 
 well-known voice of Punch ; 
 
 the same which in my school-boy days 
 
 1 listened to, 
 
 as Wordsworth says of the Cuckoo, 
 
 And I can listen to it yet 
 And listen till I do beget 
 That golden time again. 
 
 It is a voice that seems to be as much in 
 accord with the noise of towns, and the 
 riotry of fairs, as the note of the Cuckoo, 
 with the joyousness of spring fields and the 
 fresh verdure of the vernal woods. 
 
 But Rowland Dixon's company of puppets 
 would be pitifully disparaged, if their size, 
 uses, or importance, were to be estimated 
 by the street performances of the present 
 day. 
 
 The Dramatis Personae of these modern 
 exhibitions never, I believe, comprehends 
 more than four characters, and these four 
 are generally the same, to wit, Punch, Judy, 
 as she who used to be called Joan is now 
 denominated, the Devil and the Doctor, or 
 sometimes the Constable in the Doctor's 
 stead. There is, therefore, as little variety 
 in the action as in the personages ; and 
 their dimensions are such, that the whole 
 company and the theatre in which they are 
 exhibited are carried along the streets at 
 quick time and with a light step by the two 
 1 ersons who manage the concern. 
 
 But the Rowlandian, Dixonian, or Ingle- 
 touian puppets were large as life ; and re- 
 quired for their removal a caravan (in 
 the use to which that word is now ap- 
 propriated), a vehicle of such magnitude 
 and questionable shape, that if Don Quixote 
 had encountered its like upon the highway, 
 he would have regarded it as the most for- 
 midable adventure which had ever been 
 presented to his valour. And they went as 
 
 far beyond our street-puppets in the sphere of 
 their subjects as they exceeded them in size ; 
 for in that sphere quicquid agunt homines was 
 included, and a greal deal more. 
 
 In no country, and in no stage of society, 
 has the drama ever existed in a ruder state 
 than that in which this company presented 
 it. The Drolls of Bartholomew Fair were 
 hardly so far below the legitimate drama, 
 as they were above that of Rowland Dixon ; 
 for the Drolls were written compositions : 
 much ribaldry might be, and no doubt was, 
 interpolated as opportunity allowed or in- 
 vited ; but the main dialogue was prepared. 
 Here, on the contrary, there was no other 
 preparation than that of frequent practice. 
 The stock pieces were founded upon popular 
 stories or ballads, such as Fair Rosamond, 
 Jane Shore, and Bateinan, who hanged him- 
 self for love ; with scriptural' subjects for 
 Easter and Whitsun-week, such as the Cre- 
 ation, the Deluge, Susannah and the Elders, 
 and Nebuchadnezzar or the Fall, of Pride. 
 These had been handed down from the time 
 of the old mysteries and miracle-plays, hav- 
 ing, in the progress of time and change, 
 descended from the monks and clergy to 
 become the property of such managers as 
 Powel and Rowland Dixon. In what man- 
 ner they were represented when thus 
 
 Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen, 
 Fallen from their high estate, 
 
 may be imagined from a play- bill of Queen 
 Anne's reign, in which one of them is thus 
 advertised : 
 
 " At Crawley's Booth, over against the 
 Crown Tavern in Smithfield, during the 
 time of Bartholomew Fair, will be presented 
 a little Opera, called the Old Creation of the 
 World, yet newly revived ; with the addi- 
 tion of Noah's flood. Also several fountains 
 playing water during the time of the play. 
 The last scene does present Noah and his 
 family coming out of the Ark, with all the 
 beasts two and two, and all the fowls of the 
 air seen in a prospect sitting upon trees. 
 Likewise over the Ark is seen the Sun 
 rising in a most glorious manner. More- 
 over, a multitude of Angels will be seen in
 
 54 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 a double rank, which presents a double 
 prospect, one for the Sun, the other for a 
 palace, where will be seen six Angels, ring- 
 ing of bells. Likewise machines descend 
 from above double and treble, with Dives 
 rising out of Hell, and Lazarus seen in 
 Abraham's bosom ; besides several figures 
 dancing jigs, sarabands and country dances, 
 to the admiration of the spectators ; with 
 the merry conceits of Squire Punch, and 
 Sir John Spendall." 
 
 I have not found it any where stated at 
 what time these irreverent representations 
 were discontinued in England, nor whether 
 (which is not unlikely) they were put an 
 end to by the interference of the magis- 
 trates. The Autos Sacramentales, which form 
 the most characteristic department of the 
 Spanish drama, were prohibited at Madrid 
 in 1763, at the instance of the Conde de 
 Teba, then Archbishop of Toledo, chiefly 
 because of the profaneness of the actors, and 
 the indecency of the places in which they 
 were represented : it seems, therefore, that 
 if they had been performed by clerks, and 
 within consecrated precincts, he would not 
 have objected to them. The religious dra- 
 mas, though they are not less extraordinary 
 and far more reprehensible, because in many 
 instances nothing can be more pernicious 
 than their direct tendency, were not in- 
 cluded in the same prohibition ; the same 
 marks of external reverence not being re- 
 quired for Saints and Images as for the 
 great object of Romish Idolatry. These, 
 probably, will long continue to delight the 
 Spanish people. But facts of the same kind 
 may be met with nearer home. So recently 
 as the year 1816, the Sacrifice of Isaac was 
 represented on the stage at Paris : Samson 
 was the subject of the ballet ; the unshorn 
 son of Manoah delighted the spectators by 
 dancing a solo with the gates of Gaza on his 
 back; Dalilah clipt him during the intervals 
 of a jig ; and the Philistines surrounded and 
 captured him in a country dance ! 
 
 That Punch made his appearance in the 
 puppet-show of the Deluge, most persons 
 know ; his exclamation of " hazy weather, 
 master Noah," having been preserved by 
 
 tradition. In all of these wooden dramas, 
 whether sacred or profane, Punch indeed 
 bore a part, and that part is well described 
 in the verses entitled Pupa gestiadantes, 
 which may be found among the Selecta 
 Poemata Anglorum Latina, edited by Mr. 
 Popharn. 
 
 Ecce tamen subito, et media discrimine rerum, 
 liidicului vultu procedit Homuncio, tergum 
 Cut rigel in gibbum, immensusque protruditur alvus ; 
 PONCHIUS huicnomen, nee erat petulantiur unquam 
 Ullus ; quinctiam media inter seria semper 
 Importunus adest, leptdusque etgarrulus usque 
 Perstat, permiscetquejucos, atque omnia turbat. 
 Sxpe puellarum densa ad subsellia sese 
 Convertens, sedet en ! pulchras mea, dizil, arnica 
 lllic inter eat ! Oculo simul improbus uno 
 Cunnivens, aliquam illarum quasi noverat, ipsam 
 Quteque pudens se signari pudefacta rubescit ; 
 Talaque subridetjuvcnumque virumque corona. 
 Cum vero ambiguis ubscccnas turpia dictis 
 Innuit, effuso testantur gaudia risu. 
 
 In one particular only this description is 
 unlike the Punch of the Ingleton Company. 
 He was not an homuncio, but a full-grown 
 personage, who had succeeded with little 
 alteration either of attributes or appearance 
 to the Vice of the old Mysteries, and served 
 like the Clown of our own early stage, and 
 the Gracioso of the Spaniards, to scatter 
 mirth over the serious part of the perform- 
 ance, or turn it into ridicule. The wife was 
 an appendage of later times, when it was 
 not thought good for Punch to be alone ; 
 and when, as these performances had fallen 
 into lower hands, the quarrels between such 
 a pair afforded a standing subject equally 
 adapted to the capacity of the interlocutor 
 and of his audience. 
 
 A tragic part was assigned to Punch in 
 one of Rowland Dixon's pieces, and that one 
 of the most popular, being the celebrated 
 tragedy of Jane Shore. The Beadle in this 
 piece, after proclaiming in obvious and 
 opprobrious rhyme the offence which had 
 drawn upon Mistress Shore this public 
 punishment, prohibited all persons from 
 relieving her on pain of death, and turned 
 her out, according to the common story, 
 to die of hunger in the streets. The only 
 person who ventured to disobey this pro- 
 hibition was Punch the Baker ; and the 
 reader may judge of the dialogue of these
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 pieces by this Baker's words, when he stole 
 behind her, and nudging her furtively, while 
 he spake, offered her a loaf, saying, " Tuk it 
 Jenny, tak it!" for which act so little con- 
 sonant with his general character, Punch 
 died a martyr to humanity by the hang- 
 man's hands. 
 
 Dr. Dove used to say he doubted whether 
 Garrick and Mrs. Gibber could have affected 
 him more in middle life, than he had been 
 moved by Punch the Baker and this wooden 
 Jane Shore in his boyhood. For rude 
 as were these performances (and nothing 
 could possibly be ruder), the effect on 
 infant minds was prodigious, from the ac- 
 companying sense of wonder, an emotion 
 which of all others is, at that time of life, 
 the most delightful. Here was miracle in 
 any quantity to be seen for two-pence, and 
 be believed in for nothing. Xo matter how 
 confined the theatre, how coarse and in- 
 artificial the scenery, or how miserable the 
 properties ; the mind supplied all that was 
 wanting. 
 
 ' Mr. Guy," said young Daniel to the 
 schoolmaster, after one of these perform- 
 ances, " I wish Rowland Dixon could per- 
 form one of our Latin dialogues ! " 
 
 " Ay, Daniel," replied the schoolmaster, 
 entering into the boy's feelings ; " it would 
 be a grand thing to have the Three Fatal 
 Sisters introduced, and to have them send 
 for Death ; and then for Death to summon 
 the Pope and jugulate him; and invite the 
 Emperor and the King to dance ; and dis- 
 arm the soldier, and pass sentence upon the 
 Judge ; and stop the Lawyer's tongue ; and 
 feel the Physician's pulse ; and make the 
 Cook come to be killed ; and send the Poet 
 to the shades ; and give the Drunkard his 
 last draught. And then to have Rhada- 
 manthus come in and try them all ! Me- 
 thinks, Daniel, that would beat Jane Shore 
 and Fair Rosamond all to nothing, and 
 would be as good as a sermon to boot." 
 
 " I believe it would, indeed ! " said the 
 Boy ; " and then to see MORS and NATURA ; 
 and have DAMNATUS called up ; and the 
 Three Cacoda;mons at supper upon the 
 sirloin of a King, and the roasted Doctor of 
 
 Divinity, and the cruel Schoolmaster's 
 rump ! Would not it be nice, Mr. Guy ? " 
 
 " The pity is, Daniel," replied Guy, " that 
 Rowland Dixon is no Latiner, any more 
 than those who go to see his performances." 
 
 " But could not you put it into English 
 for him, Mr. Guy ?" 
 
 " I am afraid, Daniel, Rowland Dixon 
 would not thank me for my pains. Besides, 
 I could never make it sound half so noble 
 in English as in those grand Latin verses, 
 which fill the mouth, and the ears, and the 
 mind, ay and the heart and soul too. 
 No, boy ! schools are the proper places for 
 representing such pieces, and if I had but 
 Latiners enough we would have them our- 
 selves. But there are not many houses, 
 my good Daniel, in which learning is held 
 in such esteem as it is at thy father's ; if 
 there were, I should have more Latin scho- 
 lars ; and what is of far more consequence, 
 the world would be wiser and better than it 
 
 is?" 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. P. I. 
 
 QUACK AND NO QUACK, BEING AN ACCOUNT 
 OF DOCTOR GREEN AND HIS MAN KEMP. 
 POPULAR MEDICINE, HERBART, THEORY OF 
 SIGNATURES, WILLIAM DOVE, JOHN WESLEY, 
 AND BAXTER. 
 
 Hold thy hand ! health's dear mniutainer ; 
 
 Life perchance may burn the stronger : 
 Having substance to maintain her 
 She untouch'd may last the longer. 
 When the Artist goes about 
 To redress her flame, I doubt 
 Oftentimes he snuffs it out. QUARLES. 
 
 IT was not often that Rowland Dixon ex- 
 hibited at Ingleton. He took his regular 
 circuits to the fairs in all the surrounding 
 country far and wide ; but in the intervals 
 of his vocation, he, who when abroad was the 
 servant of the public, became his own master 
 at home. His puppets were laid up in ordi- 
 nary, the voice of Punch ceased, and the 
 master of the motions enjoyed otium cum 
 dignitate. When he favoured his friends 
 and neighbours with an exhibition, it was
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 speciali gratia, and in a way that rather en- 
 hanced that dignity than derogated from it. 
 
 A performer of a very different kind used 
 in those days to visit Ingleton in Us rounds, 
 where his arrival was always expected by 
 some of the community with great anxiety. 
 This was a certain Dr. Green, who having 
 been regularly educated for the profession 
 of medicine, and regularly graduated in it, 
 chose to practise as an itinerant, and take 
 the field with a Merry Andrew for his aide- 
 de-camp. He was of a respectable and 
 wealthy family in the neighbourhood of 
 Doncaster, which neighbourhood on their 
 account he never approached in his pro- 
 fessional circuits, though for himself he was 
 far from being ashamed of the character 
 that he had assumed. The course which he 
 had taken had been deliberately chosen, with 
 the twofold object of gratifying his own hu- 
 mour, and making a fortune ; and in the 
 remoter as well as in the immediate purpose, 
 he succeeded to his heart's content. 
 
 It is not often that so much worldly pru- 
 dence is found connected with so much ec- 
 centricity of character. A French poetess, 
 Madame de Villedieu, taking as a text for 
 some verses the liberal maxim que la vertu 
 depend autant du temperament que des loix, 
 says, 
 
 Presque toujours chacun suit son caprice; 
 Heuriux est le mortel que les deslins amis 
 Out parlagt d'un caprice pennis. 
 
 He is indeed a fortunate man who, if he must 
 have a hobby-horse, which is the same as 
 saying if he will have one, keeps it not merely 
 for pleasure, but for use, breaks it in well, 
 has it entirely under command, and gets as 
 much work out of it as he could have done 
 out of a common roadster. Dr. Green did 
 this ; he had not taken to this strange course 
 because he was impatient of the restraints 
 of society, but because he fancied that his 
 constitution both of body and of mind re- 
 quired an erratic life ; and that, within cer- 
 tain bounds which he prescribed for himself, 
 he might indulge in it, both to his own 
 advantage, and that of the community, 
 that part of the community at least among 
 whom it would be his lot to labour. Our 
 
 laws had provided itinerant Courts of Justice 
 for the people. Our church had formerly 
 provided itinerant preachers ; and after the 
 Reformation, when the Mendicant Orders 
 were abolished by whom this service used 
 to be performed, such preachers have never 
 failed to appear during the prevalence of 
 any religious influenza. Dr. Green thought 
 that itinerant physicians were wanted ; and 
 that if practitioners regularly educated and 
 well qualified would condescend to such a 
 course, the poor ignorant people would no 
 longer be cheated by travelling quacks, and 
 sometimes poisoned by them ! 
 
 One of the most reprehensible arts to 
 which the Reformers resorted in their hatred 
 of popery, was that of adapting vulgar 
 verses to church tunes, and thus associating 
 with ludicrous images, or with something 
 worse, melodies which had formerly been 
 held sacred. It is related of Whitefield that 
 he, making a better use of the same device, 
 fitted hymns to certain popular airs, because, 
 he said, " there was no reason why the Devil 
 should keep all the good tunes to himself." 
 Green acted upon a similar principle when 
 he took the field as a Physician Errant, with 
 his man Kemp, like another Sancho for his 
 Squire. But the Doctor was no Quixote ; 
 and his Merry Andrew had all Sancho's 
 shrewdness, without any alloy of his simple- 
 ness. 
 
 In those times medical knowledge among 
 the lower practitioners was at the lowest 
 point. Except in large towns the people 
 usually trusted to domestic medicine, which 
 some Lady Bountiful administered from her 
 family receipt book ; or to a Village Doc- 
 tress whose prescriptions were as likely 
 sometimes to be dangerously active, as at 
 others to be ridiculous and inert. But 
 while they held to their garden physic it 
 was seldom that any injury was done either 
 by exhibiting wrong medicines or violent 
 ones. 
 
 Herbs, Woods and Springs, the power that in you lies 
 If mortal man could know your properties I * 
 
 * FLETCHER.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 There was at one time abundant faith in 
 those properties. The holy Shepherdess in 
 Fletcher's fine pastoral drama, which so in- 
 finitely surpasses all foreign compositions of 
 that class, thus apostrophises the herbs which 
 she goes out to cull : 
 
 you best sons of earth, 
 
 You only brood unto whose happy birth 
 
 Virtue was given, holding more of Nature 
 
 Than man, her first-born and most perfect creature, 
 
 Let me adore you, you that only can 
 
 Help or kill Nature, drawing out that span 
 
 Of life and breath even to the end of time ! 
 
 So abundantly was the English garden 
 stocked in the age of the Tudors, that Tusser, 
 after enumerating in an Appendix to one 
 of his Chapters two and forty herbs for the 
 kitchen, fourteen others for sallads or sauces, 
 eleven to boil or butter, seventeen as strew- 
 ing herbs, and forty " herbs, branches, and 
 flowers for windows and pots," adds a list of 
 seventeen herbs " to still in summer," and 
 of five and twenty " necessary herbs to grow 
 in the garden for physic, not rehearsed 
 before ; " and after all advises his readers to 
 seek more in the fields. He says, 
 
 The nature of Flowers dame Physic doth shew ; 
 She teacheth them all to be known to a few. 
 
 Elsewhere he observes that 
 
 The knowledge of stilling is one pretty feat, 
 The waters be wholesome, the charges not great. 
 
 In a comedy of Lord Digby's, written 
 more than a hundred years after Tusser's 
 didactics, one of the scenes is laid in a lady's 
 laboratory, " with a fountain in it, some stills, 
 and many shelves, with pots of porcelain and 
 glasses ; " and when the lady wishes to keep 
 her attendant out of the way, she sends her 
 there, saying 
 
 1 have a task to give you, carefully 
 
 To shift the oils in the perfuming room, 
 As in the several ranges you shall see 
 The old begin to wither. To do it well 
 Will take you up some hours, but 'tis a work 
 I oft perform myself. 
 
 And Tusser among " the Points of House- 
 wifery united to the Comfort of Husbandry," 
 includes good housewifely physic, as incul- 
 cated in these rhymes ; 
 
 Good houswife provides ere an sickness do come, 
 
 Of sundry good things in her house to have some; 
 
 Good aqua composita, and vinegar tart, 
 
 Rose water, and treacle to comfort the heart ; 
 
 Cold herbs in her garden for agues that burn, 
 
 That over-strong heat to good temper may turn ; 
 
 White endive, and succory, with spinage enow, 
 
 All such with good pot-herbs should follow the plough. 
 
 Get water of fumitory liver to cool, 
 
 And others the like, or else go like a fool ; 
 
 Conserves of barberry, quinces and such, 
 
 With syrups that easeth the sickly so much. 
 
 Old Gervase Markham in his " Approved 
 Book called the English Housewife, con- 
 taining the inward and outward virtues 
 which ought to be in a complete woman," 
 places her skill in physic as one of the most 
 principal ; " you shall understand," he says, 
 " that sith the preservation and care of the 
 family touching their health and soundness 
 of body consisteth most in her diligence, it 
 is meet that she have a physical kind of 
 knowledge, how to administer any whole- 
 some receipts or medicines for the good of 
 their healths, as well to prevent the first 
 occasion of sickness, as to take away the 
 effects and evil of the same, when it hath 
 made seizure upon the body." And " as it 
 must be confessed that the depths and secrets 
 of this most excellent art of physic, are far 
 beyond the capacity of the most skilful 
 woman," he relates for the Housewife's use 
 some "approved medecines and old doctrines, 
 gathered together by two excellent and 
 famous physicians, and in a manuscript 
 given to a great worthy Countess of this 
 land." 
 
 The receipts collected in this and other 
 books for domestic practice are some of them 
 so hyper-composite that even Tusser's gar- 
 den could hardly supply all the indigenous 
 ingredients ; others are of the most fantastic 
 kind, and for the most part they were as 
 troublesome in preparation, and many of 
 them as disgusting, as they were futile. 
 That " Sovereign Water " which was in- 
 vented by Dr. Stephens, was composed of 
 almost all known spices, and all savoury and 
 odorous herbs, distilled in claret. With 
 this Dr. Stephens " preserved his own life 
 until such extreme old age that he could 
 neither go nor ride ; and he did continue 
 his life, being bed-rid five years, when other
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 physicians did judge he could not live one 
 year ; and he confessed a little before his 
 death, that if he were sick at any time, he 
 never used any thing but this water only. 
 And also the Archbishop of Canterbury used 
 it, and found such goodness in it that he 
 lived till he was not able to drink out of a 
 cup, but sucked his drink through a hollow 
 pipe of silver." 
 
 Twenty-nine plants were used in the com- 
 position of Dr. Adrian Gilbert's most sove- 
 reign Cordial Water, besides hartshorn, figs, 
 raisins, gillyflowers, cowslips, niarygolds, 
 blue violets, red rose-buds, ambergris, be- 
 zoar stone, sugar, aniseed, liquorice, and to 
 crown all, " what else you please." But 
 then it was sovereign against all fevers ; and 
 one who in time of plague should take two 
 spoonsful of it in good beer, or white wine, 
 " he might walk safely from danger, by the 
 leave of God." The Water of Life was 
 distilled from nearly as many ingredients, 
 to which were added a fleshy running capon, 
 the loins and legs of an old coney, the red 
 flesh of the sinews of a leg of mutton, four 
 young chickens, twelve larks, the yolks of 
 twelve eggs, and a loaf of white bread, all to 
 be distilled in white wine. 
 
 For consumption, there were pills in 
 which powder of pearls, of white amber and 
 of coral, were the potential ingredients ; 
 there was cockwater, the cock being to be 
 chased and beaten before he was killed, or 
 else plucked alive ! and there was a special 
 water procured by distillation, from a peck 
 of garden shell-snails and a quart of earth 
 worms, besides other things ; this was pre- 
 scribed not for consumption alone, but for 
 dropsy and all obstructions. For all faint- 
 ness, hot agues, heavy fantasies and imagi- 
 nations, a cordial was prepared in tabulates, 
 which were called Manus Christi : the true 
 receipt required one ounce of prepared pearls 
 to twelve of fine sugar, boiled with rose 
 water, violet water, cinnamon water, " or 
 howsoever one would have them." But 
 apothecaries seldom used more than a drachm 
 of pearls to a pound of sugar, because men 
 would not go to the cost thereof; and the 
 Manus Christi simplex was made without 
 
 any pearl at all. For broken bones, bones 
 out of joint, or any grief in the bones or 
 sinews, oil of swallows * was pronounced 
 exceeding sovereign, and this was to be 
 procured by pounding twenty live swallows 
 in a mortar with about as many different 
 herbs ! A mole, male or female according to 
 the sex of the patient, was to be dried in an 
 oven whole as taken out of the earth, and 
 administered in powder for the falling evil. 
 A grey eel with a white belly was to be 
 closed in an earthen pot, and buried alive in 
 a dunghill, and at the end of a fortnight 
 its oil might be collected to " help hearing." 
 A mixture of rose leaves and pigeon's dung 
 quilted in a bag, and laid hot upon the parts 
 aflected, was thought to help a stitch in the 
 side ; and for a quinsey, " give the party to 
 drink," says Markham, " the herb mouse-ear, 
 steept in ale or beer ; and look when you see 
 a swine rub himself, and there upon the same 
 place rub a slick-stone, and then with it 
 slick all the swelling, and it will cure it." 
 
 To make hair grow on a bald part of the 
 head, garden snails were to be plucked out 
 of their houses, and pounded with horse- 
 leaches, bees, wasps and salt, an equal quan- 
 tity of each ; and the baldness was to be 
 anointed with the moisture from this mix- 
 ture after it had been buried eight days in a 
 hotbed. For the removal and extirpation 
 of superfluous hairs, a depilatory was to be 
 made by drowning in a pint of wine as many 
 green frogs as it would cover (about twenty 
 was the number), setting the pot forty days 
 in the sun, and then straining it for use. 
 
 A water specially good against gravel or 
 dropsy might be distilled from the dried and 
 pulverised blood of a black buck or he-goat, 
 three or four years old. The animal was to 
 be kept by himself, in the summer time when 
 the sun was in Leo, and dieted for three 
 weeks upon certain herbs given in pre- 
 scribed order, and to drink nothing but red 
 wine, if you would have the best prepara- 
 tion, though some persons allowed him his 
 
 * I have known it used in the present century. The 
 OLD DOCTOR who used it, Blacksmith, Farrier, Phle- 
 botomist, and Tooth-drawer combined, is now con- 
 signed to his resting place, atat. 81 .
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 59 
 
 fill of water every third day. But there was 
 a water of man's blood which in Queen 
 Elizabeth's days was a new invention, 
 " whereof some princes had very great 
 estimation, and used it for to remain thereby 
 in their force, and, as they thought, to live 
 long." A strong man was to be chosen, in 
 his flourishing youth, and of twenty-five 
 years, and somewhat choleric by nature. He 
 was to be well dieted for one month with 
 light and healthy meats, and with all kinds 
 of spices, and with good strong wine, and 
 moreover to be kept with mirth ; at the 
 month's end veins in both arms were to be 
 opened, and as much blood to be let out as 
 he could " tolerate and abide." One hand- 
 ful of salt was to be added to six pounds of 
 this blood, and this was to be seven times 
 distilled, pouring the water upon the resi- 
 duum after every distillation, till the last. 
 This was to be taken three or four times a 
 year, an ounce at a time. One has sight of 
 a theory here ; the life was thought to be in 
 the blood, and to be made transferable when 
 thus extracted. 
 
 Richard Brathwait, more famous since 
 Mr. Haslewood has identified him with 
 Drunken Barnaby, than as author of " the 
 English Gentleman and the English Gentle- 
 woman, presented to present times for orna- 
 ments, and commended to posterity for 
 precedents," says of this Gentlewoman, 
 " herbals she peruseth, which she seconds 
 with conference ; and by degrees so improves 
 her knowledge, as her cautelous care perfits 
 many a dangerous cure." But herbals were 
 not better guides than the medical books of 
 which specimens have just been set before 
 the reader, except that they did not lead the 
 practitioner so widely and perilously astray. 
 " Had Solomon," says the author of Adam 
 in Eden, or the Paradise of Plants, " that 
 great proficient in all sublunary experi- 
 ments, preserved those many volumes that 
 he wrote in this kind, for the instruction of 
 future ages, so great was that spaciousness 
 of mind that God had bestowed on him, that 
 he had immediately under the Deity been 
 the greatest of Doctors for the preservation 
 of mankind : but with the los.s of his books 
 
 so much lamented by the Rabbins and 
 others, the best part of this herbarary art 
 hath since groaned under the defects of 
 many unworthy authors, and still remains 
 under divers clouds and imperfections." 
 This writer, " the ingeniously learned and 
 excellent Herbarist Mr. William Coles," 
 professing as near as possible to acquaint all 
 sorts of people with the very pith and marrow 
 of herbarism, arranges his work according 
 to the anatomical application of plants, 
 " appropriating," says he, " to every part of 
 the body, (from the crown of the head, with 
 which I begin, and proceed till I come to 
 the sole of the foot,) such herbs and plants 
 whose grand uses and virtues do most speci- 
 fically, and by signature thereunto belong, 
 not only for strengthening the same, but 
 also for curing the evil effects whereunto 
 they are subjected :" the signatures being, 
 as it were, the books out of which the an- 
 cients first learned the virtues of herbs ; 
 Nature, or rather the God of Nature, having 
 stamped on divers of them legible characters 
 to discover their uses, though he hath left 
 others without any, " that after he had showed 
 them the way, they, by their labour and 
 industry, which renders every thing more 
 acceptable, might find out the rest." It was 
 an opinion often expressed by a physician of 
 great and deserved celebrity, that in course 
 of time specifics would be discovered for 
 every malady to which the human frame is 
 liable. He never supposed, (though few 
 men have ever been more sanguine in their 
 hopes and expectations,) that life was thus 
 to be indefinitely prolonged, and that it 
 would be man's own fault, or his own choice, 
 if he did not live for ever ; but he thought 
 that when we should thus have been taught 
 to subdue those diseases which cut our life 
 short, we should, like the Patriarchs, live 
 out the number of our days, and then fall 
 asleep, Man being by this physical re- 
 demption restored to his original corporeal 
 state. 
 
 Then shall like four straight pillars, the four Elements 
 Support the goodly structure of Mortality : 
 Then shall the four Complexions, like four beads 
 Of a clear river, streaming in his body,
 
 60 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Nourish and comfort every vein and sinew : 
 No sickness of contagion, no grim death, 
 Or deprivation of health's real blessings, 
 Shall then affright the creature, built by Heaven, 
 Reserved for immortality.* 
 
 He had not taken up this notion from any 
 religious feeling ; it was connected in him 
 with the pride of philosophy, and he ex- 
 pected that this was one of the blessings 
 which we were to obtain in the progress of 
 knowledge. 
 
 Some specific remedies being known to 
 exist, it is indeed reasonable to suppose that 
 others will be found. Old theorists went 
 farther ; and in a world which everywhere 
 bears such undeniable evidences of design 
 in every thing, few theories should seem 
 more likely to be favourably received than 
 the one which supposed that every healing 
 plant bears, in some part of its structure, 
 the type or signature of its peculiar virtues : 
 now this could in no other way be so obvi- 
 ously marked, as by a resemblance to that 
 part of the human frame for which its reme- 
 dial uses were intended. There is a fable, in- 
 deed, which says that he who may be so 
 fortunate as to taste the blood of a certain 
 unknown animal, would be enabled thereby 
 to hear the voice of plants and understand 
 their speech ; and if he were on a mountain 
 at sunrise, he might hear the herbs which 
 grow there, when freshened with the dews 
 of night they open themselves to the beams 
 of the morning, return thanks to the Creator 
 for the virtues with which he has indued 
 them, each specifying what those virtues 
 were, le quali veramente son tante e tali che 
 beati i pastori che quelle capessero. A bota- 
 nical writer who flourished a little before the 
 theory of signatures was started complains 
 that herbal medicine had fallen into disuse ; 
 he says, antequam chemia patrum nostroruin 
 inemorid orbi restitueretur, contenti civebant 
 oi TWV larpdiv Ko/i^ol Kal \apiiararoi phar- 
 macis ex vegetabilium regno accersitis parum 
 soUiciti de Soils sulphure et oleo, de LUTUB 
 sale et essentid, de Saturni saccaro, de Martis 
 tinctura et croco, de vitriolo Veneris, de Mer- 
 curio preecipitato, et Antimonii floribus, de 
 
 FORD. 
 
 Sulphuris spiritu et Tartari crystallis : nihilo- 
 minus mascule debellabant morbos, et tute et 
 jucunde. Nunc sccculi nostri infelicitas est, 
 quod vegetabilibus contempthn habitis, plerique 
 uihil aliud spirant prater metallica ista, et 
 extis parata horribilia secreta.* The new 
 theory came in timely aid of the Galenists ; 
 it connected their practice with a doctrine 
 hardly less mysterious than those of the 
 Paracelsists, but more plausible because it 
 seemed immediately intelligible, and had a 
 natural religious feeling to strengthen and 
 support it. 
 
 The Author of Adam in Eden refers to 
 Oswald Crollius, as " the great discoverer 
 of signatures," and no doubt has drawn 
 from him most of his remarks upon this 
 theory of physical correspondence. The 
 resemblance is in some cases very obvious ; 
 but in many more the Swedenborgian corre- 
 spondences are not more fantastic ; and 
 where the resemblances exist the inference 
 is purely theoretical. 
 
 Walnuts are said to have the perfect sig- 
 nature of the head ; the outer husks or 
 green covering represents the pericranium, 
 or outward skin of the skull, whereon the 
 hair groweth, and therefore salt made of 
 those husks is exceeding good for wounds in 
 the head. The inner woody shell hath the 
 signature of the skull, and the little yellow 
 skin or peel, that of the dura and pia mater 
 which are the thin scarfs that envelope the 
 brain. The kernel hath " the very figure 
 of the brain, and therefore it is very profit- 
 able for the brain and resists poisons." So 
 too the Piony, being not yet blown, was 
 thought to have " some signature and pro- 
 portion with the head of man, having su- 
 tures and little veins dispersed up and 
 down, like unto those which environ the 
 brain : when the flowers blow they open an 
 outward little skin representing the skull :" 
 the piony, therefore, besides its other vir- 
 tues was very available against the falling 
 sickness. Poppy heads with their crowns 
 somewhat represent the head and brain, and 
 
 * PETRI LAUREMBERGII Rosloc/u'eruis Horttcttltura.. 
 Praeloquium, p. 10.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 61 
 
 therefore decoctions of them were used with 
 good success in several diseases of the head. 
 And Lilies of the Valley, which in Coles's 
 days grew plentifully upon Hampstead- 
 heuth, were known by signature to cure the 
 apoplexy ; " for as that disease is caused by 
 the dropping of humours into the principal 
 ventricles of the brain, so the flowers of this 
 lilly hanging on the plants as if they were 
 drops, are of wonderful use herein." 
 
 All capillary herbs were of course sove- 
 reign in diseases of the hair ; and because 
 the purple and yellow spots and stripes 
 upon the flowers of Eyebright very much 
 resemble the appearance of diseased eyes, it 
 was found out by that signature that this 
 herb was very effectual " for curing of the 
 same." The small Stone-crop hath the sig- 
 nature of the gums, and is therefore good 
 for scurvy. The exquisite Crollius observed 
 that the woody scales of which the cones of 
 the pine tree are composed resemble the 
 fore teeth ; and therefore pine leaves boiled 
 in vinegar make a gargle which relieves the 
 tooth-ache. The Pomegranate has a like 
 virtue for a like reason. Thistles and Holly 
 leaves signify by their prickles that they 
 are excellent for pleurisy and stiches in the 
 side. Saxifrage rnanifesteth in its growth 
 its power of breaking the stone. It had 
 been found experimentally that all roots, 
 barks and flowers which were yellow, cured 
 the yellow jaundice ; and though Kidney 
 beans as yet were only used for food, yet 
 having so perfect a signature, practitioners 
 in physic were exhorted to take it into con- 
 sideration, and try whether there were not in 
 this plant some excellent faculty to cure 
 nephritic diseases. In pursuing this fan- 
 tastic system, examples might be shown of 
 that mischief, which, though it may long 
 remain latent, never fails at some time or 
 other to manifest itself as inherent in all 
 error and falsehood. 
 
 When the mistresses of families grounded 
 their practice of physic upon such systems 
 of herbary, or took it from books which 
 contained prescriptions like those before 
 adduced, (few being either more simple or 
 more rational,) Dr. Green might well argue 
 
 that when he mounted his hobby and rode 
 out seeking adventures as a Physician 
 Errant, he went forth for the benefit of his 
 fellow-creatures. The guidance of such 
 works, or of their own traditional receipts, 
 the people in fact then generally followed. 
 Burton tells us that Paulus Jovius in his 
 description of Britain, and Levinus Lem- 
 nius have observed, of this our island, how 
 there was of old no use of physic amongst 
 us, and but little at this day, except, he 
 says, " it be for a few nice idle citizens, sur- 
 feiting courtiers, and stall-fed gentlemen 
 lubbers. The country people use kitchen 
 physic." There are two instances among 
 the papers of the Berkeley family, of the 
 little confidence which persons of rank 
 placed upon such medical advice and medi- 
 cinal preparations as could be obtained in 
 the country, and even in the largest of our 
 provincial cities. In the second year of 
 Elizabeth's reign, Henry Lord Berkeley 
 " having extremely heated himself by chas- 
 ing on foot a tame deer in Yate Park, with 
 the violence thereof fell into an immoderate 
 bleeding of the nose, to stay which, by the 
 ill counsel of some about him, he dipt his 
 whole face into a basin of cold water, 
 whereby," says the family chronicler, " that 
 flush and fulness of his nose which forthwith 
 arose could never be remedied, though for 
 present help he had physicians in a few days 
 from London, and for better help came 
 thither himself not long after to have the 
 advice of the whole College, and lodged 
 with his mother at her house in Shoe-lane." 
 He never afterwards could sing with truth 
 or satisfaction the old song, 
 
 Nose, Nose, jolly red Nose, 
 And what gave thee that jolly red Nose ? 
 Cinnamon and Ginger, Nutmegs and Cloves, 
 And they gave me this jolly red Nose. 
 
 A few years later, " Langham, an Irish 
 footman of this Lord, upon the sickness 
 of the Lady Catherine, this Lord's wife, 
 carried a letter from Callowdon to old Dr. 
 Fryer, a physician dwelling in Little Britain 
 in London ; and returned with a glass bottle 
 in his hand, compounded by the doctor for 
 the recovery of her health, a journey of an
 
 62 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 hundred and forty-eight miles performed by 
 him in less than forty-two hours, notwith- 
 standing his stay of one night at the physi- 
 cian's and apothecary's houses, which no one 
 horse could have so well and safely per- 
 formed." No doubt it was for the safer 
 conveyance of the bottle, that a footman 
 was sent on this special errand,, for which 
 the historian of that noble family adds, 
 " the lady shall after give him a new suit of 
 cloaths." 
 
 In those days, and long after, they who 
 required remedies were likely to fare ill, 
 iinder their own treatment, or that of their 
 neighbours ; and worse under the travelling 
 quack, who was always an ignorant and im- 
 pudent impostor, but found that human 
 sufferings and human credulity afforded him 
 a never-failing harvest. Dr. Green knew 
 this : he did not say, with the Romish priest, 
 populus vidt decipi, et decipietur! for he had 
 no intention of deceiving them ; but he saw 
 that many were to be won by buffoonery, 
 more by what is called palaver, and almost 
 all by pretensions. Condescending, there- 
 fore, to the common arts of quackery, he 
 employed his man Kemp to tickle the mul- 
 titude with coarse wit ; but he stored him- 
 self with the best drugs that were to be 
 procured, distributed as general remedies 
 such only as could hardly be misapplied and 
 must generally prove serviceable ; and 
 brought to particular cases the sound know- 
 ledge which he had acquired in the school, 
 of Boerhaave, and the skill which he had 
 derived from experience aided by natural 
 sagacity. When it became convenient for 
 him to have a home, he established himself 
 at Penrith, in the County of Cumberland, 
 having married a lady of that place ; but he 
 long continued his favourite course of life 
 and accumulated in it a large fortune. He 
 gained it by one maggot, and reduced it by 
 many : nevertheless, there remained a hand- 
 some inheritance for his children. His son 
 proved as maggoty as the father, ran 
 through a good fortune, and when confined 
 in the King's Bench prison for debt, wrote 
 a book upon the Art of cheap living in 
 London ! 
 
 The father's local fame, though it has not 
 reached to the third and fourth generation, 
 survived him far into the second^ and for 
 many years after his retirement from prac- 
 tice, and even after his death, every travel- 
 ling mountebank in the northern counties 
 adopted the name of Dr. Green. 
 
 At the time to which this chapter refers, 
 Dr. Green was in his meridian career, and 
 enjoyed the highest reputation throughout 
 the sphere of his itinerancy. Ingleton lay 
 in his rounds, and whenever he came there 
 he used to send for the schoolmaster to pass 
 the evening with him. He was always glad 
 if he could find an opportunity also of 
 conversing with the elder Daniel, as the 
 Flossofer of those parts. William Dove 
 could have communicated to him more 
 curious things relating to his own art ; but 
 William kept out of the presence of strangers, 
 and had happily no ailments to make him 
 seek the Doctor's advice ; his occasional 
 indispositions were but slight, and he treated 
 them in his own way. That way was some- 
 times merely superstitious, sometimes it was 
 whimsical, and sometimes rough. If his 
 charms failed when he tried them upon 
 himself, it was not for want of faith. When 
 at any time it happened that one of his eyes 
 was blood-shot, he went forthwith in search 
 of some urchin whose mother, either for 
 laziness, or in the belief that it was whole- 
 some to have it in that state, allowed his 
 ragged head to serve as a free warren for 
 certain " small deer." One of these hexa- 
 peds William secured, and " using him as if 
 he loved him," put it into his eye; when 
 according to William's account the insect 
 fed upon what it found, cleared the eye, and 
 disappearing he knew not where or how, 
 never was seen more. 
 
 His remedy for the cholic was a pebble 
 posset ; white pebbles were preferred, and 
 of these what was deemed a reasonable 
 quantity was taken in some sort of milk 
 porridge. Upon the same theory he some- 
 times swallowed a pebble large enough as 
 he said to clear all before it ; and for that 
 purpose they have been administered of 
 larger calibre than any bolus that ever came
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 from the hands of the most merciless apo- 
 thecary, as large indeed sometimes as a 
 common sized walnut. Does the reader 
 hesitate at believing this of an ignorant man, 
 living in a remote part of the country ? 
 Well might William Dove be excused, for a 
 generation later than his John Wesley pre- 
 scribed, in his Primitive Physic, quicksilver 
 to be taken ounce by ounce, to the amount 
 of one, two, or three pounds, till the desired 
 effect was produced. And a generation 
 earlier, Richard Baxter of happy memory 
 and unhappy digestion, having read in Dr. 
 Gerhard " the admirable effects of the 
 swallowing of a gold bullet upon his father," 
 in a case which Baxter supposed to be like 
 his own, got a gold bullet of between twenty 
 and thirty shillings weight, and swallowed 
 it. " Having taken it," says he, " I knew 
 not how to be delivered of it again. I took 
 clysters and purges for about three weeks, 
 but nothing stirred it ; and a gentleman 
 having done the like, the bullet never came 
 from him till he died, and it was cut out. 
 But at last my neighbours set a day apart to 
 fast and pray for me, and I was freed from 
 my danger in the beginning of that day ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. P. I. 
 
 Hiatus valde lacrymabilis. 
 
 Time flies away fast, 
 The while we never remember 
 
 How soon our life here 
 
 Grows old with the year 
 That dies with the next December ! HERRICK. 
 
 I MUST pass over fourteen years, for were I 
 to pursue the history of our young Daniel's 
 boyhood and adolescence into all the rami- 
 fications which a faithful biography requires, 
 fourteen volumes would not contain it. 
 They would be worth reading, for that costs 
 little ; they would be worth writing, though 
 that costs much. They would deserve the 
 best embellishments that the pencil and the 
 graver could produce. The most poetical 
 of artists would be worthily employed in 
 designing the sentimental and melancholy 
 
 scenes ; Cruikshank for the grotesque ; 
 Wilkie and Richter for the comic and serio- 
 comic; Turner for the actual scenery; 
 Bewick for the head and tail pieces. They 
 ought to be written ; they ought to be read. 
 They should be written and then they 
 would be read. But time is wanting: 
 
 Eheu ! fugaces Posihume, Posthume, 
 Labuntur anni ! 
 
 and time is a commodity of which the value 
 rises as Jong as we live. We must be con- 
 tented with doing not what we wish, but 
 what we can, our possible as the French 
 call it. 
 
 One of our Poets * (which is it ?) 
 speaks of an everlasting now. If such a 
 condition of existence were offered to us in 
 this world, and it were put to the vote 
 whether we should accept the offer and fix 
 all things immutably as they are, who are 
 they whose voices would be given in the 
 affirmative ? 
 
 Not those who are in pursuit of fortune, 
 or of fame, or of knowledge, or of enjoy- 
 ment, or of happiness ; though with regard 
 to all of these, as far as any of them are 
 attainable, there is more pleasure in ths 
 pursuit than in the attainment. 
 
 Not those who are at sea, or travelling in 
 a stage coach. 
 
 Not the man who is shaving himself. 
 
 Not those who have the tooth-ache, or 
 who are having a tooth drawn. 
 
 The fashionable beauty might; and the 
 fashionable singer, and the fashionable opera 
 dancer, and the actor who is in the height of 
 his power and reputation. So might the 
 alderman at a city feast. So would the heir 
 who is squandering a large fortune faster 
 than it was accumulated for him. And the 
 thief who is not taken, and the convict who 
 is not hanged, and the scoffer, at religion 
 whose heart belies his tongue. 
 
 * Cowlev's Davideis, book i. vol. i. p. 302., and note 
 p. 364. The Latin version is in vol. ii. p. 513. 
 
 " Nothing is there to come, and nothing past, 
 But an eternal now does always last." 
 
 It is needless to add that the term originated with tLe 
 Schoolmen.
 
 64 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Not the wise and the good. 
 
 Not those who are in sickness or in sorrow. 
 
 Not I. 
 
 But were I endowed with the power of 
 suspending the effect of time upon the 
 things around me, methinks there are some 
 of my flowers which should neither fall nor 
 fade : decidedly my kitten should never 
 attain to cathood : and I am afraid my little 
 boy would continue to "mis-speak half- 
 uttered words ;" and never, while I live, 
 outgrow that epicene dress of French grey, 
 half European, half Asiatic in its fashion. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. P. I. 
 
 DANIEL AT DONCASTER; THE REASON WHT 
 HE WAS DESTINED FOR THE MEDICAL 
 PROFESSION, RATHER THAN HOLT ORDERS ; 
 AND SOME REMARKS UPON SERMONS. 
 
 Je ne veux dissimuler, amy Lccteur, que je n'aye bien 
 preveu, et me tiens pour deiiement adverty, que ne puts 
 eviter la reprehension d'aucuns, el les calamities de 
 plusiturs, ausquelt cest escrit desplaira du tout. 
 
 CBRISTOFLE DE HERICOURT. 
 
 FOURTEEN years have elapsed since the 
 scene took place which is related in the 
 twenty-second chapter : and Daniel the 
 younger, at the time to which this present 
 chapter refers, was residing at Doncaster 
 with Peter Hopkins who practised the 
 medical art in all its branches. He had 
 lived with him eight years, first as a pupil, 
 latterly in the capacity of an assistant, and 
 afterwards as an adopted successor. 
 
 How this connection between Daniel and 
 Peter Hopkins was brought about, and the 
 circumstances which prepared the way for 
 it, would have appeared in some of the non- 
 existent fourteen volumes, if it had pleased 
 Fate that they should have been written. 
 
 Some of my readers, and especially those 
 who pride themselves upon their knowledge 
 of the world, or their success in it, will think it 
 strange, perhaps, that the elder Daniel, when 
 he resolved to make a scholar of his son, did 
 not determine upon breeding him either to 
 the Church or the Law, in either of which 
 
 professions the way was easier and more 
 inviting. Now though this will not appear 
 strange to those other readers who have 
 perceived that the father had no knowledge 
 of the world, and could have none, it is 
 nevertheless proper to enter into some ex- 
 planation upon that point. 
 
 If George Herbert's Temple, or his Re- 
 mains, or his life by old Izaak Walton, had 
 all or any of them happened to be among 
 those few but precious books which Daniel 
 prized so highly and used so well, it is likely 
 that the wish of his heart would have been 
 to train up his Son for a Priest to the 
 Temple. But so it was that none of his 
 reading was of a kind to give his thoughts 
 that direction ; and he had not conceived 
 any exalted opinion of the Clergy from the 
 specimens which had fallen in his way. A 
 contempt which was but too general had 
 been brought upon the Order by the igno- 
 rance or the poverty of a great proportion 
 of its members. The person who served 
 the humble church which Daniel dutifully 
 attended was almost as poor as a Capuchine, 
 and quite as ignorant. This poor man had 
 obtained in evil hour from some easy or 
 careless Bishop a licence to preach. It was 
 reprehensible enough to have ordained one 
 who was destitute of every qualification 
 that the office requires ; the fault was still 
 greater in promoting him from the desk to 
 the pulpit. 
 
 "A very great Scholar" is quoted by 
 Dr. Eachard as saying, " that such preach- 
 ing as is usual is a hindrance of salvation 
 rather than the means to it." This was said 
 when the fashion of conceited preaching, 
 which is satirised in Frey Gerundio, had 
 extended to England, and though that 
 fashion has so long been obsolete, that many 
 persons will be surprised to hear it had ever 
 existed among us, it may still reasonably be 
 questioned whether sermons, such as they 
 commonly are, do not quench more devotion 
 than they kindle. 
 
 My Lord ! put not the book aside in dis- 
 pleasure! (I address myself to whatever 
 Bishop may be reading it.) Unbiassed I 
 will not call myself, for I am a true and
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 orthodox churchman, and have the interests 
 of the Church zealously at heart, because I 
 believe and know them to be essentially and 
 inseparably connected with those of the 
 commonwealth. But I have been an atten- 
 tive observer, and as such, request a hear- 
 ing. Receive my remarks as coming from 
 one whose principles are in entire accord 
 with your Lordship's, whose wishes have 
 the same scope and purport, and who, while 
 he offers his honest opinion, submits it with 
 proper humility to your judgment. 
 
 The founders of the English Church did 
 not intend that the sermon should invariably 
 form a part of the Sunday services.* It 
 became so in condescension to the Puritans, 
 of whom it has long been the fashion to 
 speak with respect, instead of holding them 
 up to the contempt and infamy and abhor- 
 rence which they have so richly merited. 
 They have been extolled by their descend- 
 ants and successors as models of patriotism 
 and piety ; and the success with which this 
 delusion has been practised is one of the 
 most remarkable examples of what may be 
 effected by dint of effrontery and persever- 
 ing falsehood. 
 
 That sentence I am certain will not 
 be disapproved at Fulham or Lambeth. 
 Dr. Southey, or Dr. Phillpots, might have 
 written it. 
 
 The general standard of the Clergy has 
 undoubtedly been very much raised since 
 the days when they were not allowed to 
 preach without a licence for that purpose 
 from the Ordinary. Nevertheless it is cer- 
 tain that many persons who are in other, 
 and more material respects well, or even 
 excellently, qualified for the ministerial func- 
 tions, may be wanting in the qualifications 
 for a preacher. A man may possess great 
 learning, sound principles and good sense, 
 and yet be without the talent of arranging 
 and expressing his thoughts well in a 
 written discourse : he may want the power 
 of fixing the attention, or reaching the 
 
 * Selden's words are not to be readily forgotten. 
 " Preaching, for the most part, is the glory of the 
 Preacher, to show himself a fine man. Catechising would 
 do much better." TABLE TALK. 
 
 hearts of his hearers ; and in that case the 
 discourse, as some old writer has said in 
 serious jest, which was designed for edifi- 
 cation turns to ^edification. The evil was 
 less in Addison's days, when he who dis- 
 trusted his own abilities availed himself of 
 the compositions of some approved Divine, 
 and was not disparaged in the opinion of his 
 congregation by taking a printed volume 
 into the pulpit. This is no longer practised ; 
 but instead of this, which secured whole- 
 some instruction to the people, sermons are 
 manufactured for sale, and sold in manu- 
 script, or printed in a cursive type imitating 
 manuscript. The articles which are pre- 
 pared for such a market are, for the most 
 part, copied from obscure books, with more 
 or less alteration of language, and generally 
 for the worse ; and so far as they are drawn 
 from such sources they are not likely to 
 contain any thing exceptionable on the 
 score of doctrine : but the best authors will 
 not be resorted to, for fear of discovery, and 
 therefore when these are used, the congre- 
 gation lose as much in point of instruction, 
 as he who uses them ought to lose in self- 
 esteem. 
 
 But it is more injurious when a more 
 scrupulous man composes his own dis- 
 courses, if he be deficient either in judg- 
 ment or learning. He is then more likely 
 to entangle plain texts than to unravel 
 knotty ones ; rash positions are sometimes 
 advanced by such preachers, unsound argu- 
 ments are adduced by them in support of 
 momentous doctrines, and though these 
 things neither offend the ignorant and care- 
 less, nor injure the well-minded and well- 
 informed, they carry poison with them when 
 they enter a diseased ear. It cannot be 
 doubted that such sermons act as corrobora- 
 tives for infidelity. 
 
 Nor when they contain nothing that is 
 actually erroneous, but are merely unim- 
 proving, are they in that case altogether 
 harmless. They are not harmless if they 
 are felt to be tedious. They are not harm- 
 less if they torpify the understanding : a 
 chill that begins there may extend to the 
 vital regions. Bishop Taylor (the great
 
 66 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Jeremy) says of devotional books, that 
 " they are in a large degree the occasion of 
 so great indevotion as prevails among the 
 generality of nominal Christians, being," he 
 says, " represented naked in the conclusions 
 of spiritual life, without or art or learn- 
 ing; and made apt for persons who can 
 do nothing but believe and love, not for 
 them that can consider and love." This 
 applies more forcibly to bad sermons than 
 to common-place books of devotion ; the 
 book may be laid aside if it offend the 
 reader's judgment, but the sermon is a 
 positive infliction upon the helpless hearer. 
 
 The same Bishop, and his name ought 
 to carry with it authority among the wise 
 and the good, has delivered an opinion 
 upon this subject, in his admirable Apology 
 for Authorized and Set Forms of Liturgy. 
 " Indeed," he says, " if I may freely declare 
 my opinion, I think it were not amiss, if the 
 liberty of making sermons were something 
 more restrained than it is ; and that such 
 persons only were entrusted with the liberty, 
 for whom the church herself may safely be 
 responsive, that is, men learned and pious ; 
 and that the other part, the vvlgus cleri, 
 should instruct the people out of the foun- 
 tains of the church and the public stock, till 
 by so long exercise and discipline in the 
 schools of the Prophets they may also be 
 intrusted to minister of their own unto the 
 people. This I am sure was the practice 
 of the Primitive Church." 
 
 " I am convinced," said Dr. Johnson, 
 " that I ought to be at Divine Service more 
 frequently than I am ; but the provocations 
 given by ignorant and affected preachers too 
 often disturb the mental calm which other- 
 wise would succeed to prayer. I am apt to 
 whisper to myself on such occasions, ' How 
 can this illiterate fellow dream of fixing at- 
 tention, after we have been listening to the 
 sublimest truths, conveyed in the most chaste 
 and exalted language, throughout a liturgy 
 which must be regarded as the genuine off- 
 spring of piety impregnated by wisdom ! ' " 
 " Take notice, however," he adds, "though 
 I make this confession respecting myself, I 
 do not mean to recommend the fastidious- 
 
 ness that sometimes leads me to exchange 
 congregational for solitary worship." 
 The saintly Herbert says, 
 
 " Judge not the Preacher, for he is thy Judge ; 
 If thou mislike him thou conceiv'st him not. 
 God calleth preaching folly. Do not grudge 
 To pick out treasures from an earthen pot. 
 The worst speak something good. If all want sense, 
 God takes a text and preacheth patience. 
 
 He that gets patience and the blessing which 
 Preachers conclude with, hath not lost his pains." 
 
 This sort of patience was all that Daniel 
 could have derived from the discourses of 
 the poor curate ; and it was a lesson of which 
 his meek and benign temper stood in no 
 need. Nature had endowed him with this 
 virtue, and this Sunday's discipline exercised 
 without strengthening it. While he was, in 
 the phrase of the Religious Public, sitting 
 under the preacher, he obeyed to a certain 
 extent George Herbert's precept, that is, 
 he obeyed it as he did other laws with the 
 existence of which he was unacquainted, 
 
 Let vain or busy thoughts have there no part : 
 Bring not thy plough, thy plots, thy pleasure thither. 
 
 Pleasure made no part of his speculations 
 at any time. Plots he had none. For the 
 Plough, it was what he never followed in 
 fancy, patiently as he plodded after the fur- 
 row in his own vocation. And then for 
 worldly thoughts they were not likely in that 
 place to enter a mind which never at any 
 time entertained them. But to that sort of 
 thought (if thought it may be called) which 
 cometh as it listeth, and which when the 
 mind is at ease and the body in health, is the 
 forerunner and usher of sleep, he certainly 
 gave way. The curate's voice passed over 
 his ear like the sound of the brook with 
 which it blended, and it conveyed to him as 
 little meaning and less feeling. During the 
 sermon, therefore, he retired into himself, 
 with as much or as little edification as a 
 Quaker finds at a silent meeting. 
 
 It happened also that of the few clergy 
 within the very narrow circle in which 
 Daniel moved, some were in no good repute 
 for their conduct, and none displayed either 
 that zeal in the discharge of their pastoral 
 functions, or that earnestness and ability in 
 performing the service of the Church, which
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 (57 
 
 are necessary for commanding the respect 
 and securing the affections of the parish- 
 ioners. The clerical profession had never 
 presented itself to him in its best, which is 
 really its true light ; and for that cause he 
 would never have thought of it for the boy, 
 even if the means of putting him forward in 
 this path had been easier and more obvious 
 than they were. And for the dissenting 
 ministry, Daniel liked not the name of a 
 Nonconformist. The Puritans had left be- 
 hind them an ill savour in his part of the 
 country, as they had done every where else ; 
 and the extravagances of the primitive 1 
 Quakers, which during his childhood were 
 fresh in remembrance, had not yet been 
 forgotten. 
 
 It was well remembered in those parts 
 that the Vicar of Kirkby Lonsdale, through 
 the malignity of some of his puritanical 
 parishioners, had been taken out of his bed 
 from his wife who was then big with 
 child and hurried away to Lancaster jail, 
 where he was imprisoned three years for no 
 other offence than that of fidelity to his 
 Church and his King. And that the man 
 who was a chief instigator of this persecu- 
 tion, and had enriched himself by the spoil 
 of his neighbour's goods, though he nourished 
 for awhile, bought a field and built a fine 
 house, came to poverty at last, and died in 
 prison, having for some time received his 
 daily food there from the table of one of this 
 very Vicar's sons. It was well remembered 
 also that, in a parish of the adjoining county- 
 palatine, the puritanical party had set fire 
 in the night to the Rector's barns, stable, 
 and parsonage; and that he and his wife and 
 children had only as it were by miracle 
 escaped from the flames. 
 
 William Dove had also among his tradi- 
 tional stores some stories of a stranger kind 
 concerning the Quakers, these parts of the 
 North having been a great scene of their 
 vagaries in their early days. He used to 
 relate how one of them went into the church 
 at Brough, during the reign of the Puritans, 
 with a white sheet about his body, and a 
 rope about bis neck, to prophesy before the 
 people and their Whig Priest (as he called 
 
 him) that the surplice which was then pro- 
 hibited should again come into use, and that 
 the Galiows should have its due ! And how 
 when their ringleader, George Fox, was put 
 in prison at Carlisle, the wife of Justice 
 Benson would eat no meat unless she par- 
 took it with him at the bars of his dungeon, 
 declaring she was moved to do this ; where- 
 fore it was supposed he had bewitched her. 
 And not without reason ; for when this old 
 George went, as he often did, into the Church 
 to disturb the people, and they thrust him 
 out, and fell upon him and beat him, sparing 
 neither sticks nor stones if they came to 
 hand, he was presently, for all that they had 
 done to him, as sound and as fresh as if 
 nothing had touched him ; and when they 
 tried to kill him, they could not take away 
 his life ! And how this old George rode a 
 great black horse, upon which he was seen 
 in the course of the same hour at two places, 
 threescore miles distant from each other ! 
 And how some of the women who followed 
 this old George used to strip off all their 
 clothes, and in that plight go into the church 
 at service time on the Sunday, to bear testi- 
 mony against the pomps and vanities of the 
 world ; " and to be sure," said William, 
 " they must have been witched, or they 
 never would have done this." " Lord de- 
 liver us ! " said Dinah, " to be sure they 
 must ! " " To be sure they must, Lord 
 bless us all ! " said Haggy. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVH. P. I. 
 
 A PASSAGE IN PROCOPIUS IMPROVED. A 
 STORY CONCERNING UR1M AND THUMMIM ; 
 AND THE ELDER DANIEL'S OPINION OF THE 
 PROFESSION OF THE LAW, 
 
 Here is Dotnine Picklock, 
 My man of Law, sollicits all my causes, 
 Follows my business, makes and compounds my quarrels 
 Between my tenants and me ; sows all my strifes 
 And reaps them too, troubles the country for me, 
 And vexes any neighbour that I please. BEN JONSON. 
 
 AMONG the people who were converted to 
 the Christian faith during the sixth century
 
 G8 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 were two tribes or nations called the Lazi 
 and the Zani. Methinks it had been better 
 if they had been left unconverted ; for they 
 have multiplied prodigiously among us, 
 so that between the Lazy Christians and 
 the Zany ones, Christianity has grievously 
 suffered. 
 
 It was one of the Zany tribe whom Guy 
 once heard explaining to his congregation 
 what was meant by Urim and Thummim, 
 and in technical phrase improving the text. 
 Urim and Thummim, he said, were two 
 precious stones, or rather stones above all 
 price, the Hebrew names of which have been 
 interpreted to signify Light and Perfection, 
 or Doctrine and Judgment, (which Luther 
 prefers in his Bible, and in which some of 
 the northern versions have followed him,) or 
 the Shining and the Perfect, or Manifesta- 
 tion and Truth, the words in the original 
 being capable of any or all of these signi- 
 fications. They were set in the High Priest's 
 breast-plate of judgment ; and when he 
 consulted them upon any special occasion 
 to discover the will of God, they displayed 
 an extraordinary brilliancy if the matter 
 which was referred to this trial were 
 pleasing to the Lord Jehovah, but they gave 
 no lustre if it were disapproved. " My 
 Brethren," said the Preacher, " this is what 
 learned Expositors, Jewish and Christian, 
 tell me concerning these two precious stones. 
 The stones themselves are lost. But, my 
 Christian Brethren, we need them not, for 
 we have a surer means of consulting and 
 discovering the will of God ; and still it is 
 by Urim and Thummim, if we alter only a 
 single letter in one of those mysterious words. 
 Take your Bible, my brethren ; use him and 
 thumb him use him and thumb him well, 
 and you will discover the will of God as 
 surely as ever the High Priest did by the 
 stones in his breast-plate ! " 
 
 What Daniel saw of the Lazi, and what 
 he heard of the Zani, prevented him from 
 ever forming a wish to educate his son for 
 a North country cure, which would have 
 been all the preferment that lay within his 
 view. And yet, if any person to whose 
 judgment he deferred, had reminded him 
 
 that Bishop Latimer had risen from as hum- 
 ble an origin, it might have awakened in 
 him a feeling of ambition for the boy, not 
 inconsistent with his own philosophy. 
 
 But no suggestions could ever have in- 
 duced Daniel to choose for him the profes- 
 sion of the Law. The very name of Lawyer 
 was to him a word of evil acceptation. Mon- 
 taigne has a pleasant story of a little boy 
 who when his mother had lost a lawsuit, 
 which he had always heard her speak of as 
 a perpetual cause of trouble, ran up to her 
 in great glee to tell her of the loss as a mat- 
 ter for congratulation and joy ; the poor 
 child thought it was like losing a cough, or 
 any other bodily ailment. Daniel enter- 
 tained the same sort of opinion concerning 
 all leg il proceedings. He knew that laws 
 were necessary evils ; but he thought they 
 were much greater evils than there was any 
 necessity that they should be ; and believing 
 this to be occasioned by those who were 
 engaged in the trade of administering them, 
 he looked upon lawyers as the greatest pests 
 in the country 
 
 Because, their end being merely avarice, 
 
 Winds up their wits to such a nimble strain 
 
 As helps to blind the Judge, not give him eyes.* 
 
 He had once been in the Courts at Lancas- 
 ter, having been called upon as witness in 
 a civil suit, and the manner in which he was 
 cross-examined there by one of those "young 
 spruce Lawyers," whom Donne has so hap- 
 pily characterised as being 
 
 " all impudence and tongue " 
 
 had confirmed him in this prejudice. What 
 he saw of the proceedings that day induced 
 him to agree with Beaumont and Fletcher, 
 that 
 
 Justice was a Cheese-monger, a mere cheese-monger, 
 Weighed nothing to the world but mites and maggots 
 And a main stink ; Law, like a horse-courser, 
 Her rules and precepts hung with gauds and ribbands, 
 And pampered up to cozen him that bought her, 
 When she herself was hackney, lame and founder'd.f 
 
 His was too simple and sincere an under- 
 standing to admire in any other sense than 
 that of wondering at them 
 
 * LORD BROOKE. 
 
 f WOMEN PLEASED.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 69 
 
 Men of that large profession that can speak 
 To every cause, and things mere contraries, 
 Till they are hoarse again, yet all be taw ! 
 That with most quick agility can turn. 
 And re-return ; can make knots and undo them, 
 Give forked counsel, take provoking gold 
 On either hand, and put it up. These men 
 He knew would thrive ; * 
 
 but far was he from wishing that a son of 
 his should thrive by such a perversion of his 
 intellectual powers, and such a corruption 
 of his moral nature. 
 
 On the other hand he felt a degree of 
 respect amounting almost to reverence for 
 the healing art, which is connected with so 
 many mysteries of art and nature. And 
 therefore when an opportunity offered of 
 placing his son with a respectable practi- 
 tioner, who he had every reason for believing 
 would behave toward him with careful and 
 prudent kindness, his entire approbation was 
 given to the youth's own choice. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIIL 
 
 PETER HOPKINS. EFFECTS OF TIME AND 
 CHANGE. DESCRIPTION OF HIS DWEIJLING- 
 HOUSE. 
 
 Combien de changemens depuis que suis au monde, 
 Qui n'esl qu'un point du tems! FASQI'IER. 
 
 PETER HOPKINS was a person who might 
 have suffered death by the laws of Solon, if 
 that code had been established in this coun- 
 try ; for though he lived in the reigns of 
 George I. and George II., he was neither 
 Whig nor Tory, Hanoverian nor Jacobite. 
 When he drank the King's health with any 
 of his neighbours, he never troubled him- 
 self with considering which King was in- 
 tended, nor to which side of the water their 
 good wishes were directed. Under George 
 or Charles he would have been the same 
 quiet subject, never busying himself with a 
 thought about political matters, and having 
 no other wish concerning them than that 
 they might remain as they were, so far he 
 
 was a Hanoverian, and no farther. There 
 was something of the same temper in his 
 religion ; he was a sincere Christian, and 
 had he been born to attendance at the Mass 
 or the Meeting House would have>sbeen 
 equally sincere in his attachment to either 
 of those extremes : for his whole mind was 
 in his profession. He was learned in its 
 history ; fond of its theories ; and skilful in 
 its practice, in which he trusted little to 
 theory and much to experience. 
 
 Both he and his wife were at this time 
 well stricken in years; they had no children, 
 and no near kindred on either side ; and 
 being both kind-hearted people, the liking 
 which they soon entertained toward Daniel 
 for his docility, his simplicity of heart, his 
 obliging temper, his original cast of mind, 
 and his never-failing good-humour, ripened 
 into a settled affection. 
 
 Hopkins lived next door to the Mansion 
 House, which edifice was begun a few years 
 after Daniel went to live with him. There 
 is a view of the Mansion House in Dr. 
 Miller's History of Doncaster, and in that 
 print the dwelling in question is included. 
 It had undergone no other alteration at the 
 time this view was taken than that of hav- 
 ing had its casements replaced by sash 
 windows, an improvement which had been 
 made by our Doctor, when the frame-work 
 of the casements had become incapable of 
 repair. The gilt pestle and mortar also had 
 been removed from its place above the door. 
 Internally the change had been greater ; for 
 the same business not being continued there 
 after the Doctor's decease, the shop had 
 been converted into a sitting room, and the 
 very odour of medicine had passed away. 
 But I will not allow myself to dwell upon 
 this melancholy subject. The world is full 
 of mutations ; and there is hardly any that 
 does not bring with it some regret at the 
 time, and alas, more in the retrospect ! I 
 have lived to see the American Colonies 
 separated from Great Britain, the Kingdom 
 of Poland extinguished, the Republic of 
 Venice destroyed, its territory seized by 
 one Usurper, delivered over in exchange to 
 another, and the transfer sanctioned and con-
 
 70 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 firmed by all the Powers of Europe in 
 Congress assembled! I have seen Heaven 
 knows how many little Principalities and 
 States, proud of their independence, and 
 happy in the privileges connected with it, 
 swallowed up by the Austrian or the Prus- 
 sian Eagle, or thrown to the Belgic Lion, 
 as his share in the division of the spoils. I 
 have seen constitutions spring up like mush- 
 rooms and kicked down as easily. I have 
 seen the rise and fall of Napoleon. 
 
 I have seen Cedars fall 
 And in their room a mushroom grow ; 
 I have seen Comets, threatening all, 
 Vanish themselves ; * 
 
 wherefore then should I lament over what 
 time and mutability have done to a private 
 dwelling-house in Doncaster ? 
 
 It was an old house, which when it was 
 built had been one of the best in Doncaster ; 
 and even after the great improvements which 
 have changed the appearance of the town, 
 had an air of antiquated respectability about 
 it. Had it been near the church it would 
 have been taken for the Vicarage ; standing 
 where it did, its physiognomy was such that 
 you might have guessed it was the Doctor's 
 house, even if the pestle and mortar had 
 not been there as his insignia. There were 
 eight windows and two doors in front. It 
 consisted of two stories, and was oddly built, 
 the middle part having, something in the 
 Scotch manner, the form of a gable end 
 towards the street. Behind this was a single 
 chimney, tall, and shaped like a pillar. In 
 windy nights the Doctor was so often con- 
 sulted by Mrs. Dove concerning the stability 
 of that chimney, that he accounted it the 
 plague of his life. But it was one of those 
 evils which could not be removed without 
 bringing on a worse, the alternative being 
 whether there should be a tall chimney, or 
 a smoky house. And after the mansion 
 house was erected, there was one wind which, 
 in spite of the chimney's elevation, drove the 
 smoke down, so inconvenient is it some- 
 times to be fixed near a great neighbour. 
 
 This unfortunate chimney, being in the 
 
 * HABINGTON. 
 
 middle of the house, served for four apart- 
 ments ; the Doctor's study and his bed- 
 chamber on the upper floor, the kitchen and 
 the best parlour on the lower, that parlour, 
 yes, Reader, that very parlour wherein, as 
 thou canst not have forgotten, Mrs. Dove 
 was making tea for the Doctor on that ever 
 memorable afternoon with which our history 
 begins. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. P. I. 
 
 A HINT OF REMINISCENCE TO THE READER. 
 THE CLOCK OF ST. GEORGE'S. A WORD IN 
 HONOUR OF ARCHDEACON MARKHAM. 
 
 There is a ripe season for every thing, and if you slip 
 that or anticipate it, you dim the grace of the matter be 
 it never so good. As we say by way of Proverb that an 
 hasty birth brings forth blind whelps, so a good tale 
 tumbled out before the time is ripe for it, is ungrateful to 
 the hearer. BISHOP HACKETT. 
 
 THE judicious reader will now have per- 
 ceived that in the progress of this narrative, 
 which may be truly said to 
 
 bear 
 
 A music in the ordered history 
 It lays before us, 
 
 we have arrived at that point which de- 
 termines the scene and acquaints him with 
 the local habitation of the Doctor. He will 
 perceive also that in our method of narra- 
 tion, nothing has been inartificially antici- 
 pated ; that, there have been no premature 
 disclosures, no precipitation, no hurry, or 
 impatience on my part ; and that, on the 
 other hand, there has been no unnecessary 
 delay, but that we have regularly and 
 naturally come to this development. The 
 author who undertakes a task like mine, 
 
 must nombre al the hole cyrcumitaunce 
 Of hys matter with brevyacion, 
 
 as an old Poet * says of the professors of the 
 rhyming art, and must moreover be careful 
 
 That he walke not by longe continuance 
 The perambulate way, 
 
 * HAWE'S " Pastime of Pleasure.'
 
 TUP: DOCTOR. 
 
 as I have been, O Reader ! and as it is my 
 fixed intention still to be. Thou knowest, 
 gentle Reader, that I have never wearied 
 thee with idle and worthless words ; thou 
 knowest that the old comic writer spake 
 truly when he said, that the man who speaks 
 little says too much, if he says what is not 
 to the point ; but that he who speaks well 
 and wisely, will never be accused of speak- 
 ing at too great length, 
 
 rut JO'TO f&rM tr 
 
 Tot (A*! Xiy 
 
 My good Readers will remember that, as 
 was duly noticed in our first chapter P I. 
 the clock of St. George's had just struck 
 five, when Mrs. Dove was pouring out the 
 seventh cup of tea for her husband, and 
 when our history opens. I have some ob- 
 servations to make concerning both the tea 
 and the tea service, which will clear the 
 Doctor from any imputation of intemper- 
 ance in his use of that most pleasant, salu- 
 tiferous and domesticising beverage : but it 
 would disturb the method of my narration 
 were they to be introduced in this place. 
 Here I have something to relate about the 
 Clock. Some forty or fifty years ago a 
 Butcher, being one of the Churchwardens 
 of the year, and fancying himself in that 
 capacity invested with full power to alter 
 and improve any thing in or about the 
 Church, thought proper to change the posi- 
 tion of the clock, and, accordingly, had it 
 removed to the highest part of the tower, 
 immediately under the battlements. Much 
 beautiful Gothic work was cut away to 
 make room for the three dials, which he 
 placed on three sides of this fine tower ; and 
 when he was asked what had induced him 
 thus doubly to disfigure the edifice, by mis- 
 placing the dials, and destroying so much 
 of the ornamental part, the great and greasy 
 killcow answered that by fixing the dials so 
 high, he could now stand at his own shop- 
 door and see what it was o'clock ! That 
 convenience this arrant churchwarden had 
 
 the satisfaction of enjoying for several years, 
 there being no authority that could call him 
 to account for the insolent mischief he had 
 done. But Archdeacon Markham (to his 
 praise be it spoken), at the end of the last 
 century, prevailed on the then church- 
 wardens to remove two of the dials, and 
 restore the architectural ornaments which 
 had been defaced. 
 
 This was the clock which, with few inter- 
 vals, measured out by hours the life of 
 Daniel Dove from the seventeenth year of 
 his age, when he first set up his rest within 
 its sound. 
 
 Perhaps of all the works of man sun-dials 
 and church-clocks are those which have 
 conveyed most feeling to the human heart ; 
 the clock more than the sun-dial, because it 
 speaks to the ear as well as to the eye, and 
 by night as well as by day. Our forefathers 
 understood this, and, therefore, they not 
 only gave a Tongue to Time *, but provided 
 that he should speak often to us, and re- 
 mind us that the hours are passing. Their 
 quarter-boys and their chimes were de- 
 signed for this moral purpose as much as 
 the memento which is so commonly seen 
 upon an old clock-face, and so seldom 
 upon a new one. I never hear chimes that 
 they do not remind me of those which were 
 formerly the first sounds I heard in the 
 morning, which used to quicken my step on 
 my way to school, and which announced my 
 release from it, when the same tune me- 
 thought had always a merrier import. When 
 I remember their tones, life seems to me 
 like a dream, and a train of recollections 
 arises, which, if it were allowed to have its 
 course, would end in tears. 
 
 The bell strikes one. We take no note of time 
 But from its loss. To give it then a tongue 
 Is wise in man." 
 
 YOUNG'S Kigfit Thoughts. Night I.
 
 72 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. P. I. 
 
 THB OLD BELLS HUNG TO A NEW TUNE. 
 
 If the bell have any sides the clapper will find 'em. 
 
 BEN JONSON. 
 
 THAT same St. George's Church has a peal 
 of eight tunable bells, in the key of E. b. 
 the first bell weighing seven hundred, one 
 quarter, and fourteen pounds. 
 
 Tra tutte quante le musiche humane, 
 O Sfgnor mio gentil, tra le piu care 
 Gioje del mondo, e 'I suon delle can/pane ; 
 Don don don don don don, che ve ne pare ? * 
 
 They were not christened, because they 
 were not Roman Catholic bells ; for in 
 Roman Catholic countries church bells are 
 christened with the intention of causing 
 them to be held in greater reverence, 
 
 perb ordino n'un consistoro 
 
 Un certo di quei buon papi all' antica, 
 Che non ci lavoravan di straforo, 
 
 Che la campnna if, si benedica, 
 Pot sibattezzi, e se le punga il name, 
 Prima che' tn campanil I' tifizio dica. 
 
 Gli organi, ch' anco lor san si ben come 
 Si dica il vespro, e le messe canlale, 
 Non hanno questo honor sopra le chiome. 
 
 Che le lor canne non son baltezzate, 
 Ne' name ha f una Pier, V allra Maria 
 Come hanno le campane prelibate .* 
 
 The bells of St. George's, Doncaster, I 
 say, were not christened, because they were 
 Protestant bells ; for distinction's sake, how- 
 ever, we will name them as the bells stand 
 in the dirge of that unfortunate Cat whom 
 Johnny Green threw into the well. 
 
 But it will be better to exhibit their 
 relative weights in figures, so that they may 
 be seen synoptically. Thus then ; 
 
 Bim the first 
 Bim the second 
 Bim the third 
 Bim the fourth 
 Bim the fifth 
 Bim the sixth 
 Bom 
 Bell - - 
 
 Cwt. 
 
 7 
 8 
 8 
 
 10 
 13 
 15 
 22 
 29 
 
 qr. 
 1 
 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 1. 
 
 2 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 14 
 18 
 
 6 
 15 
 
 
 16 
 
 
 20 
 
 * AGNOLO FIRKNZUOLA. 
 
 I cannot but admit that these appellations 
 are not so stately in appearance as those 
 of the peal which the Bishop of Chalons 
 recently baptized, and called a " happy and 
 holy family " in the edifying discourse that 
 he delivered upon the occasion. The first 
 of these was called Marie, to which or to 
 whom the Duke and Duchess of Dander- 
 ville (so the newspapers give this name) 
 stood sponsors. " It is you, Marie," said the 
 Bishop, " who will have the honour to an- 
 nounce the festivals, and proclaim the glory 
 of the Lord ! You appear among us under 
 the most happy auspices, presented by those 
 respectable and illustrious hands to which 
 the practices of piety have been so long 
 familiar. And you, Anne," he pursued, 
 addressing the second bell, "an object 
 worthy of the zeal and piety of our first 
 magistrate (the Prefect), and of her who so 
 nobly shares his solicitude, you shall be 
 charged with the same employment. Your 
 voice shall be joined to Marie's upon im- 
 portant occasions. Ah ! what touching les- 
 sons will you not give in imitation of her 
 whose name you bear, and whom we reve- 
 rence as the purest of Virgins ! You, also, 
 Deodate, will take part in this concert, you 
 whom an angel, a new-born infant, has con- 
 jointly with me consecrated to the Lord ! 
 Speak, Deodate ! and let us hear your 
 marvellous accents." This Angel and God- 
 mother, in whose name the third bell was 
 given, was Mademoiselle Deodate Boisset, 
 then in the second month of her age, 
 daughter of Viscount Boisset. " And you, 
 Stephanie, crowned with glory," continued 
 the orator, in learned allusion to the Greek 
 word arifyavoc, " you are not less worthy 
 to mingle your accents with the melody of 
 your sisters. And you, lastly, Seraphine 
 and Pudentienne, you will raise your voices 
 in this touching concert, happy all of you 
 in having been presented to the benedic- 
 tions of the Church, by these noble and 
 generous souls, so praiseworthy for the 
 liveliness of their faith, and the holiness of 
 their example." And then the Bishop con- 
 cluded by calling upon the congregation to 
 join with him in prayer that the Almighty
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 73 
 
 would be pleased to preserve from all 
 accidents this " happy and holy family of 
 the bells." 
 
 We have no such sermons from our 
 Bishops! The whole ceremony must have 
 been as useful to the bells as it was edify- 
 ing to the people. 
 
 Were I called upon to act as sponsor 
 upon such an occasion, I would name my 
 bell Peter Bell, in honour of Mr. Words- 
 worth. There has been a bull so called, and 
 a bull it was of great merit. But if it were 
 the great bell, then it should be called 
 Andrew, in honour of Dr. Bell ; and that 
 bell should call the children to school. 
 
 There are, I believe, only two bells in 
 England which are known by their Christian 
 names, and they are both called Tom ; but 
 Great Tom of Oxford, which happens to be 
 much the smaller of the two, was christened 
 in the feminine gender, being called Mary, 
 in the spirit of catholic and courtly adula- 
 tion at the commencement of the bloody 
 Queen's reign. Tresham, the Vice-Chan- 
 cellor, performed the ceremony, and his 
 exclamation, when it first summoned him 
 to mass, has been recorded : " O delicate 
 and sweet harmony ! O beautiful Mary ! 
 how musically she sounds ! how strangely 
 she pleaseth my ear ! " 
 
 In spite of this christening, the object of 
 Dr. Tresham's admiration is as decidedly a 
 Tom-Bell as the Puss in Boots who ap- 
 peared at a Masquerade (Theodore Hook 
 remembers when and where) was a Tom 
 Cat. Often as the said Tom-Bell has been 
 mentioned, there is but one other anecdote 
 recorded of him ; it occurred on Thursday 
 the thirteenth day of March, 1 806, and was 
 thus described in a letter written two hours 
 after the event : " An odd thing happened 
 to-day, about half-past four, Tom suddenly 
 went mad ; he began striking as fast as 
 he could about twenty times. Every body 
 went out doubting whether there was an 
 earthquake, or whether the Dean was dead, 
 or the College on fire. However, nothing 
 was the matter but that Tom was taken ill 
 in his bowels : in other words, something 
 had happened to the works, but it was not 
 
 of any serious consequence, for he has 
 struck six as well as ever, and bids fair to 
 toll 101 to-night as well as he did before 
 the attack." 
 
 This was written by a youth of great 
 natural endowments, rare acquirements, 
 playful temper, and affectionate heart. If 
 his days had been prolonged, his happy 
 industry, his inoffensive wit, his sound judge- 
 ment and his moral worth, favoured as they 
 were by all favourable circumstances, must 
 have raised him to distinction ; and the name 
 of Barre Roberts, which is now known only 
 in the little circle of his own and his father's 
 friends, would have had its place with those 
 who have deserved well of their kind and 
 reflected honour upon their country. 
 
 But I return to a subject, which would 
 have interested him in his antiquarian 
 pursuits, for he loved to wander among 
 the Ruins of Time. We will return there- 
 fore to that ceremony of christening Church 
 Bells, which, with other practices of the 
 Holy Roman Catholic and Apostolic Church, 
 has been revived in France. 
 
 Bells, say those Theologians in issimi who 
 have gravely written upon this grave matter, 
 Bells, say they, are not actually baptized 
 with that baptism which is administered for 
 the remission of sins ; but they are said to 
 be christened because the same ceremonies 
 which are observed in christening children 
 are also observed in consecrating them, 
 such as the washing, the anointing, and the 
 imposing a name ; all which, however, may 
 more strictly be said to represent the signs 
 and symbols of baptism than they may be 
 called baptism itself. 
 
 Nothing can be more candid ! Bells arc 
 not baptized for the remission of sins, because 
 the original sin of a bell would be a flaw in 
 the metal, or a defect in the tone, neither of 
 which the Priest undertakes to remove. 
 There was however a previous ceremony of 
 blessing the furnace when the bells were 
 cast within the precincts of a monastery, as 
 they most frequently were in former times, 
 and this may have been intended for the 
 prevention of such defects. The Brethren 
 stood round the furnace ranged in proces-
 
 74 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 sional order, sang the 150th Psalm, and then 
 after certain prayers blessed the molten 
 metal, and called upon the Lord to infuse 
 into it his grace and overshadow it with his 
 power, for the honour of the Saint to whom 
 the bell was to be dedicated and whose name 
 it was to bear. 
 
 When the tune of christening came, the 
 officiating Priest and his assistant named 
 every bell five times, as a sort of prelude, 
 for some unexplained reason which may 
 perhaps be as significant and mystical as the 
 other parts of the ceremony. He then 
 blessed the water in two vessels which were 
 prepared for the service. Dipping a clean 
 linen cloth in one of these vessels, he washed 
 the bell within and without, the bell being 
 suspended over a vessel wider in circum- 
 ference than the bell's mouth, in order that 
 no drop of the water employed in this wash- 
 ing might fall to the ground ; for the water 
 was holy. Certain psalms were said or 
 sung (they were the 96th and the four last in 
 the psalter) during this part of the ceremony 
 and while the officiating Priest prepared the 
 water in the second vessel : this he did by 
 sprinkling salt in it, and putting holy oil 
 upon it, either with his thumb, or with a 
 stick ; if the thumb were used, it was 
 to be cleaned immediately by rubbing 
 it well with salt over the same water. Then 
 he dipt another clean cloth in this oiled and 
 salted water, and again washed the bell 
 within and without : after the service the 
 cloths were burnt lest they should be pro- 
 faned by other uses. The bell was then 
 authentically named. Then it was anointed 
 with chrism in the form of a cross four times 
 on the broadest part of the outside, thrice 
 on the smaller part, and four times on the 
 inside, those parts being anointed with most 
 care against which the clapper was to strike. 
 After this the name was again given. Myrrh 
 and frankincense were then brought, the 
 bell was incensed while part of a psalm was 
 recited, and the bell was authentically named 
 a third time ; after which the priest care- 
 fully wiped the chrism from the bell with 
 tow, and the tow was immediately burnt in 
 the censer. Next the Priest struck each 
 
 bell thrice with its clapper, and named it 
 again at every stroke ; every one of the 
 assistants in like manner struck it and 
 named it once. The bells were then care- 
 fully covered each with a cloth and immedi- 
 diately hoisted that they might not be con- 
 taminated by any irreverent touch. The 
 Priest concluded by explaining to the con- 
 gregation, if he thought proper, the reason 
 for this ceremony of christening the bells, 
 which was that they might act as preserva- 
 tives against thunder and lightning, and 
 hail and wind, and storms of every kind, 
 and moreover that they might drive away 
 evil Spirits. To these and their other 
 virtues the Bishop of Chalons alluded in his 
 late truly Gallican and Roman Catholic 
 discourse. " The Bells," said he, " placed 
 like sentinels on the towers, watch over us 
 and turn away from us the temptations of 
 the enemy of our salvation, as well as storms 
 and tempests. They speak and pray for us 
 in our troubles ; they inform heaven of the 
 necessities of the earth." 
 
 Now were this edifying part of the Roman 
 Catholic ritual to be re-introduced in the 
 British dominions, as it very possibly may 
 be now that Lord Peter has appeared in his 
 robes before the King, and been introduced 
 by his title, the opportunity would no 
 doubt be taken by the Bishop or Jesuit 
 who might direct the proceedings, of com- 
 plimenting the friends of their cause by 
 naming the first " holy and happy family " 
 after them. And to commemorate the ex- 
 traordinary union of sentiment which that 
 cause has brought about between persons 
 not otherwise remarkable for any similitude 
 of feelings or opinions, they might unite two 
 or more names in one bell (as is frequently 
 done in the human subject), and thus with 
 a peculiar felicity of compliment show who 
 and who upon this great and memorable 
 occasion have pulled together. In such a 
 case the names selected for a peal of eight 
 tunable bells might run thus : 
 
 Bim 1st. Canning O'Connel. 
 
 Bim 2d. Plunkett Shiel. 
 
 Bim 3d. Augustus Frederick Cohbett.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 75 
 
 Bim 4th. Williams Wynn Burdett 
 
 Waithman. 
 
 Bim 5th. Grenville Wood. 
 Bim 6th. Palmerston Hume. 
 Boin Lawless Brougham. 
 Bell Lord King, per se ; 
 
 alone par excellence, as the thickest and 
 thinnest friend of the cause, and moreover 
 because 
 
 None but himself can be his parallel ; 
 and last in order because the base note 
 accords best with him ; and because for the 
 decorum and dignity with which he has at 
 all times treated the Bishops, the clergy and 
 the subject of religion, he must be allowed 
 to bear the bell not from his compeers alone 
 but from all his contemporaries. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. P. I. 
 
 MOKE CONCERNING BELLS. 
 
 Lord, ringing changes all our bells hath marr'd ; 
 
 Jangled they have and jarr'd 
 So long, they're out of tune, and out of frairre ; 
 
 They seem not now the same. 
 Put them in frame anew, and once begin 
 To tune them so, that they may chime all in ! 
 
 HERBERT. 
 
 THERE are more mysteries in a peal of bells 
 than were touched upon by the Bishop of 
 Chalons in his sermon. There are plain 
 bob-triples, bob-majors, bob-majors re- 
 versed, double bob-majors, and grandsire- 
 bob-cators, and there is a Bob-maximus. 
 Who Bob was, and whether he were Bob 
 Major, or Major Bob, that is whether Major 
 were his name or his rank, and if his rank, to 
 what service he belonged, are questions which 
 inexorable Oblivion will not answer, how- 
 ever earnestly adjured. And there is no 
 Witch of Endor who will call up Bob from 
 the grave to answer them himself. But 
 there are facts in the history of bell- ringing 
 which Oblivion has not yet made her own, 
 and one of them is that the greatest per- 
 formance ever completedby one person in the 
 world was that of Mr. Samuel Thurston at 
 
 the New Theatre Public House in the City 
 of Norwich, on Saturday evening, July 1, 
 1809, when he struck all these intricate 
 short peals, the first four upon a set of eight 
 musical hand-bells, the last on a peal of ten. 
 
 But a performance upon hand-bells when 
 compared to bell-ringing is even less than 
 a review in comparison with a battle. 
 Strength of arm as well as skill is required 
 for managing a bell-rope. Samuel Thurs- 
 ton's peal of plain bob-triples was " nobly 
 brought round " in two minutes and three 
 quarters, and his grandsire-bob-cators were 
 as nobly finished in five minutes and four- 
 teen seconds. The reader shall now see 
 what real bell-ringing is. 
 
 The year 1796 was remarkable for the 
 performance of great exploits in this manly 
 and English art, for to England the art 
 is said to be peculiar, the cheerful carrillons 
 of the continent being played by keys. In 
 that year, and in the month of August, the 
 Westmoreland youths rang a complete peal 
 of 5040 grandsire-triples in St. Mary's 
 Church, Kendal, being the whole number of 
 changes on seven bells. The peal was divided 
 into ten parts, or courses of 504 each ; the 
 bobs were called by the sixth, a lead single 
 was made in the middle of the peal, and 
 another at the conclusion, which brought the 
 bells home. Distinct leads and exact di- 
 visions were observed throughout the whole, 
 and the performance was completed in three 
 hours and twenty minutes. A like per- 
 formance took place in the same month at 
 Kidderminster in three hours and fourteen 
 minutes. Stephen Hill composed and called 
 the peal, it was conducted through with one 
 single, which was brought to the 4984th 
 change, viz. 1,267,453. This was allowed by 
 those who were conversant in the art to 
 exceed any peal ever yet rung in this king- 
 dom by that method. 
 
 Paulo majora canamus. The Society of 
 Cambridge youths that same year rang, in 
 the Church of St. Mary the Great, a true 
 and complete peal of Bob-maximus in five 
 hours and five minutes. This consisted of 
 6600 changes, and for regularity of striking 
 and harmony throughout the peal was
 
 76 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 allowed by competent judges to be a very 
 masterly performance. In point of time the 
 striking was to such a nicety that in each 
 thousand changes the time did not vary one 
 sixteenth of a minute, and the compass of 
 the last thousand was exactly equal to the 
 first. 
 
 Eight Birmingham youths (some of them 
 were under twenty years of age) attempted 
 a greater exploit ; they ventured upon a 
 complete peal of 15,120 bob-major. They 
 failed indeed, magnis tamen ousts. For after 
 they had rang upwards of eight hours and 
 a half, they found themselves so much 
 fatigued that they desired the caller would 
 take the first opportunity to bring the bells 
 home. This he soon did by omitting a bob, 
 and so brought them round, thus making a 
 peal of 14,224 changes in eight hours and 
 forty -five minutes; the longest which was 
 ever rung in that part of the country, or 
 perhaps any where else. 
 
 In that same year died Mr. Patrick, the 
 celebrated composer of church-bell music, 
 and senior of the Society of Cumberland 
 Youths, an Hibernian sort of distinction 
 for one in middle or later life. He is the 
 same person whose name was well known in 
 the scientific world as a maker of barome- 
 ters ; and he it was who composed the whole 
 peal of Stedman's triples, 5040 changes, 
 (which his obituarist says had till then been 
 deemed impracticable, and for the discovery 
 of which he received a premium of 50/. 
 offered for that purpose by the Norwich 
 amateurs of the art,) "his productions of 
 real double and treble bob-royal being a 
 standing monument of his unparalleled and 
 superlative merits." This Mr. Patrick was 
 interred on the afternoon of Sunday, June 
 26, in the churchyard of St. Leonard, 
 Shoreditch ; the corpse was followed to the 
 grave by all the Ringing Societies in London 
 and its environs, each sounding hand-bells 
 with muffled clappers, the church bells at 
 the same time ringing a dead peal : 
 
 'fis uy iptfixin rifm Harfixes /SoCtoJ*/aMi 
 
 James Ogden was interred with honours 
 of the same kind at Ashton-under-Line, in 
 
 the year of this present writing, 1827. His 
 remains were borne to the grave by the 
 ringers of St. Michael's Tower in that town, 
 with whom he had rung the tenor bell for 
 more than fifty years, and with whom he 
 performed "the unprecedented feat" of 
 ringing five thousand on that bell (which 
 weighed 28 cwt.) in his sixty-seventh year. 
 After the funeral his old companions rang a 
 dead peal for him of 828 changes, that being 
 the number of the months of his life. Such 
 in England are the funeral honours of the 
 
 It would take ninety-one years to ring 
 the changes upon twelve bells, at the rate of 
 two strokes to a second ; the changes upon 
 fourteen could not be rung through at the 
 same rate in less than 16,575 years ; and 
 upon four and twenty they would require 
 more than 117,000 billions of years. 
 
 Great then are the mysteries of bell-ring- 
 ing ! And this may be said in its praise, 
 that of all devices which men have sought 
 out for obtaining distinction by making a 
 noise in the world, it is the most harmless.* 
 
 CHAPTER XX XII. P.I. 
 
 AN INTRODUCTION TO CERTAIN PRELIMI- 
 NARIES ESSENTIAL TO THE PROGRESS OF 
 THIS WORK. 
 
 Mas demos ya el asiento en lo importante, 
 Que el tiempo huye del mundo par la posta. 
 
 BALBUENA. 
 
 THE subject of these memoirs heard the bells 
 of St. George's ring for the battles of Dettin- 
 gen and Culloden ; for Commodore Anson's 
 return and Admiral Hawke's victory ; for 
 the conquest of Quebec ; for other victories, 
 important in their day, though in the retro - 
 
 * Some readers may not be displeased with these old 
 lines. 
 
 TlNTlNNABULUM SONAT ! 
 
 Laudo Deum Verum, plebem TOCO, congrego clerum ; 
 Defunctos ploro, pestem fugo, festa decoro.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 77 
 
 speet they may seem to have produced little 
 effect ; and for more than one Peace ; for 
 the going out of the Old Style, and for the 
 coming in of the New ; for the accession, 
 marriage, and coronation of George HI. ; for 
 the birth of George IV. ; and 
 that of all his royal brethren 
 and sisters ; and what was 
 to him a subject of nearer and 
 dearer interest than any of 
 these events, for his own 
 wedding. 
 
 What said those bells to him 
 that happy day ? for that bells can convey 
 articulate sounds to those who have the 
 gift of interpreting their language, Whit- 
 tington, Lord Mayor of London Town, 
 knew by fortunate experience. 
 
 So did a certain Father Confessor in the 
 Netherlands, whom a buxom widow con- 
 sulted upon the perilous question whether 
 she should marry a second husband, or con- 
 tinue in,,widowed blessedness. The prudent 
 Priest deemed it too delicate a point for him 
 to decide ; so he directed her to attend to 
 the bells of her church when next they 
 chimed (they were but three in number) 
 
 and bring him word what she thought 
 they said ; and he exhorted her to pray in 
 the mean time earnestly for grace to under- 
 stand them rightly, and in the sense that 
 might be most for her welfare here and here- 
 after, as he on his part would pray for her. 
 
 She listened with mouth and ears the 
 first time that the bells struck up ; and the 
 more she listened, the more plainly they 
 said " Nempt een man, Nempt een man ! 
 Take a Spouse, Take a Spouse ! " " Aye, 
 Daughter ! " said the Confessor, when she 
 returned to him with her report, " if the 
 bells have said so, so say I ; and not I alone, 
 but the Apostle also, and the Spirit who 
 through that Apostle hath told us when it is 
 best for us to marry ! " Reader, thou mayest 
 thank the Leonine poet Gummarus Van 
 Craen for this good story. 
 
 What said the Bells of Doncaster to our 
 dear Doctor on that happy niorninjr which 
 made him a whole man by uniting to him the 
 rib that he till then had wanted ? They said 
 
 to him as distinctly as they spoke to Whit- 
 tington, and to the Flemish Widow, 
 
 Daniel Dove brings Deborah home. 
 Daniel Dove brings Deborah home. 
 
 
 i 
 
 Daniel Dove brings Deborah home. 
 
 But whither am I hurrying ? It was not 
 till the year 1761 that that happy union was 
 effected ; and the fourteen years whose 
 course of events I have reluctantly, yet of 
 necessity, pretermitted, bring us only to 1748, 
 in which year the Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle 
 was made. Peter Hopkins and Mrs. Hop- 
 kins were then both living, and Daniel had 
 not attained to the honours of his diploma. 
 Before we come to the day on which the 
 bells rang that joyful peal, I must enter into 
 some details for the purpose of showing how 
 he became qualified for his degree, and how 
 he was enabled to take it ; and it will be 
 necessary therefore to say something of the 
 opportunities of instruction which he en- 
 joyed under Hopkins, and of the state of 
 society in Doncaster at that time. And 
 preliminary to, as preparatory for all this, 
 some account is to be given of Doncaster 
 itself. 
 
 Reader, you may skip this preliminary 
 account if you please, but it will be to your 
 loss if you do ! You perhaps may be one of 
 those persons who can travel from Dan to 
 Beersheba, and neither make inquiry con- 
 cerning, nor take notice of, any thing on the 
 way ; but, thank Heaven, I cannot pass 
 through Doncaster in any such mood of 
 mind. If, however, thou belongest to a better 
 class, then may I promise that in what is 
 here to follow thou wilt find something to 
 recompense thee for the little time thou wilt 
 employ in reading it, were that time more 
 than it will be, or more valuable than it is. 
 For I shall assuredly either tell thee of 
 something which thou didst not know before
 
 78 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 (and let me observe by the bye that I never 
 obtained any information of any kind which 
 did not on some occasion or other prove 
 available) or I shall waken up to pleasur- 
 able consciousness thy napping knowledge. 
 Snuff the candles therefore, if it be candle- 
 light, and they require it (I hope, for thine 
 eyes' sake, thou art not reading by a lamp !) 
 stir the fire, if it be winter, and it be 
 prudent to refresh it with the poker ; and 
 then comfortably begin a new chapter : 
 
 Faciam ut hujus loci semper memineris." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. P. I. 
 
 DONCASTRIANA. THE RIVER DON. 
 
 Rivers from bubbling springs 
 Have rise at first ; and great from abject things. 
 
 MlDDLETON. 
 
 How would it have astonished Peter Hop- 
 kins if some one gifted with the faculty of 
 second-sight had foretold to him that, at the 
 sale of Pews in a new Church at Doncaster, 
 eighteen of those Pews should produce up- 
 wards of sixteen hundred pounds, and that 
 one of them should be bought at the price 
 of ^138, a sum for which, in his days, 
 lands enough might have been purchased to 
 have qualified three men as Yorkshire Free- 
 holders ! How would it have surprised him 
 to have been told that Doncaster races would 
 become the greatest meeting in the North 
 of England ; that Princes would attend 
 them, and more money would annually be 
 won and lost there than might in old times 
 have sufficed for a King's ransom ! But the 
 Doncaster of George the Fourth's reign is 
 not more like the Doncaster of George the 
 Second's, than George the Fourth himself, 
 in manners, habit, character, and person is 
 like his royal Great Grandfather ; not 
 more like than to the Doncaster of the United 
 States, if such a place there be there; or 
 
 TERENCE 
 
 to the Doncaster that may be in New South 
 Wales, Van Diemen's or Swan-river-land. 
 It was a place of considerable importance 
 when young Daniel first became an inhabit- 
 ant of it ; but it was very far from having 
 attained all the advantages arising from its 
 well -endowed corporation, its race-ground, 
 and its position on the great north road. 
 
 It is beyond a doubt that Doncaster may 
 be identified with the Danum of Antoninus 
 and the Notitia, the Caer Daun of Nennius, 
 and the Dona-cester of the Saxons ; whether 
 it were the Campo-Donum of Bede, a 
 royal residence of the Northumbrian Kings, 
 where Paulinus the Romish Apostle of Nor- 
 thumbria built a Church, which, with the 
 town itself, was burnt by the Welsh King 
 Cadwallon, and his Saxon Ally the Pagan 
 Penda, after a battle in which Edwin fell, 
 is not so certain : antiquaries differ upon this 
 point, but they who maintain the affirmative 
 appear to have the strongest case. In the 
 charter granted to it by Richard Cceur de 
 Lion the town is called Danecastre. 
 
 The name indicates that it was a Roman 
 Station on the river Dan, Don or Dun, " so 
 called," says Camden, " because 'tis carried 
 in a low deep channel, for that is the signifi- 
 cation of the British word Dan." I thank 
 Dr. Prichard for telling me what it was not 
 possible for Camden to know, that Don in 
 the language of the Ossetes, a Caucassian 
 tribe, means water ; and that in a country 
 so remote as New Guinea, Dan has the same 
 meaning. Our Doctor loved the river for 
 its name's sake ; and the better because the 
 river Dove falls into it. Don however, 
 though not without some sacrifice of feeling, 
 he was content to call it, in conformity to 
 the established usage. A more satisfactory 
 reason to him would have been that of pre- 
 serving the identity of name with the Don 
 of Aberdeenshire and of the Cossacks, and 
 the relationship in etymology with the Don- 
 au ; but that the original pronunciation, which 
 was, as he deemed, perverted in that latter 
 name, was found in Danube ; and that by 
 calling his own river Don it ceased to be 
 homonymous with that Dan which adds its 
 waters and its name to the Jor.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 79 
 
 But the Yorkshire Don might be liked 
 also for its own sake. Hear how its course 
 is described in old prose and older verse ! 
 " The River Don or Dun," says Dodsworth 
 in his Yorkshire collections, " riseth in the 
 upper part of Pennystone parish, near Lady's 
 Cross (which may be called our Apennines, 
 because the rain-water that falleth sheddeth 
 ffom sea to sea) cometh to Birchworth, so 
 to Pennystone, thence to Boleterstone by 
 Medop, leaveth Wharncliffe Chase (stored 
 with roebucks, which are decayed since the 
 great frost) on the north (belonging to Sir 
 Francis Wortley, where he hath great iron- 
 works. The said Wharncliffe affordeth two 
 hundred dozen of coal for ever to his said 
 works. In this Chase he had red and fallow 
 deer and roes), and leaveth Bethuns, a Chase 
 and Tower of the Earl of Salop, on the 
 south side. By Wortley to Waddsley, where 
 in times past Everingham of Stainber had 
 a park, now disparked ; thence to Sheffield, 
 and washeth the castle wall ; keepeth its 
 course to Attercliffe, wher.e is an iron forge 
 of the Earl of Salop ; from thence to Winke- 
 bank, Kymberworth and Eccles, where it 
 entertaineth the Rother; cometh presently 
 to Rothcrham, thence to Aldwark Hall, the 
 Fitzwilliams' ancient possession ; then to 
 Thriberg Park, the seat of Reresbyes Knights ; 
 then to Mexborough, where hath been a 
 Castle; then to Conisborough Park and 
 Castle of the Earls of Warrens, where there 
 is a place called Horsas Tomb ; from thence 
 to Sprotebrough, the ancient seat of the 
 famous family of Fitzwilliam, who have 
 nourished since the Conquest ; thence by 
 Newton to Donecastre, Wheatley, and Kirk 
 Sandal, to Barnby-Dunn; byBramwith and 
 Stninforth to Fishlake ; thence to Turnbrig, 
 a port town serving indifferently for all the 
 west parts, where he pays his tribute to the 
 Ayre." 
 
 Hear Michael Drayton next, who being 
 as determined a personificator as Darwin 
 himself, makes " the wide West Riding " 
 thus address her favourite River Don : 
 
 Tliou first of all my floods, whose banks do bound my 
 
 south 
 And offerest up thy stream to mighty Humber's mouth ; 
 
 Of yew and climbing elm that crown'd with many a spray, 
 From thy clear fountain first thro' many a. mead dost play, 
 Till Rother, whence the name of Rotherham first begun, 
 At that her christened town doth lose her in my Don ; 
 Which proud of her recourse, towards Doncaster doth 
 
 drive, 
 
 Her great and chiefest town, the name that doth derive 
 From Don's near bordering banks ; when holding on her 
 
 race, 
 
 She, dancing in and out, indenteth Hatfield Chase, 
 Whose bravery hourly adds new honors to her bank: 
 When Sherwood sends her in slow Iddle that, made rank 
 With her profuse excess, she largely it bestows 
 On Marshland, whose swoln womb with such abundance 
 
 flows, 
 
 As that her battening breast her fallings sooner feeds, 
 And with more lavish waste than oft the grazier needs ; 
 Whose soil, as some reports, that be her borderers, note, 
 With water under earth undoubtedly doth float, 
 For when the waters rise, it risen doth remain 
 High, while the floods are high, and when they fall again, 
 It falleth : but at last when as my lively Don 
 Along by Marshland side her lusty course hath run, 
 The little wandering Trent, won by the loud report 
 Of the magnific state and height of Humber's court, 
 Draws on to meet with Don, at her approach to Aire. 
 
 Seldon's rich commentary does not extend 
 to that part of the Polyolbion in which these 
 lines occur, but a comment upon the sup- 
 posed rising and falling of the Marshland 
 with the waters is supplied by Camden. 
 " The Don," he says, after it has passed 
 Hatfield Chase, " divides itself, one stream 
 running towards the river Idel, which comes 
 out of Nottinghamshire, the other towards 
 the river Aire ; in both which they continue 
 till they meet again, and fall into the 2Estu- 
 ary of Humber. Within the island, or that 
 piece of ground encompassed by the branches 
 of these two rivers, are Dikemarsh, and 
 Marshland, fenny tracts, or rather river- 
 islands, about fifteen miles round, which 
 produce a very green rank grass, and are as 
 it were set round with little villages. Some 
 of the inhabitants imagine the whole island 
 floats upon the water ; and that sometimes 
 when the waters are increased 'tis raised 
 higher ; just like what Pom ponius Mela tells 
 us of the Isle of Autrum in Gaul." Upon 
 this passage Bishop Gibson remarks, " As to 
 what our author observes of the ground 
 being heaved up, Dr. Johnston affirms he 
 has spoke with several old men, who told 
 him that the turf-moor between Thorne and 
 Gowle was so much higher before the drain- 
 ing, especially in winter time, than it is now, 
 that before they could see little of the church
 
 80 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 steeple, whereas now they can see the church- 
 yard wall." 
 
 The poet might linger willingly with Ebe- 
 nezer Elliott amid 
 
 rock, vale and wood, 
 
 Haunts of his early days, and still loved well, 
 And where the tun, o'er purple moorlands wide, 
 Gilds WharnclifTe's oaks, while Don is dark below ; 
 And where the blackbird sings on Rot her's side, 
 And where Time spares the age of Conisbro' ; 
 
 but we must proceed with good matter-of- 
 fact prose. 
 
 The river has been made navigable to 
 Tinsley, within three miles of Sheffield, and 
 by this means Sheffield, Rotherham and 
 Doncaster carry on a constant intercourse 
 with Hull. A cut was made for draining 
 that part of Hatfield Chase called the Levels, 
 by an adventurous Hollander, Cdrnelius 
 Vermuyden by name, in the beginning of 
 Charles the First's reign. Some two hun- 
 dred families of French and Walloon refu- 
 gees were induced to colonise there at that 
 time. They were forcibly interrupted in 
 their peaceful and useful undertaking by the 
 ignorant people of the country, who were 
 instigated and even led on by certain of the 
 neighbouring gentry, as ignorant as them- 
 selves ; but the Government was then strong 
 enough to protect them ; they brought about 
 twenty -four thousand acres into cultivation, 
 and many of their descendants are still set- 
 tled upon the ground which was thus re- 
 claimed. Into this new cut, which is at this 
 day called the Dutch river, the Don was 
 turned, its former course having been through 
 Eastoft; but the navigation which has 
 since proved so beneficial to the country, 
 and toward which this was the first great 
 measure, produced at first a plentiful crop 
 of lawsuits, and one of the many pamphlets 
 which this litigation called forth bears as an 
 alias in its title, " the Devil upon Don." 
 
 Many vestiges of former cultivation were 
 discovered when this cut was made, such 
 (according to Gibson's information) as gates, 
 ladders, hammers, and shoes. The land was 
 observed in some places to lie in ridges and 
 furrows, as if it had been ploughed ; and 
 oaks and fir trees were frequently dug up, 
 some of which were found lying along, with 
 
 their roots still fastened ; others, as if cut or 
 burnt, and severed from the ground. Roots 
 were long to be seen in the great cut, some 
 very large and standing upright, others with 
 an inclination toward the east. 
 
 About the year 1665 the body of a man 
 was found in a turf-pit, some four yards 
 deep, lying with his head toward the north. 
 The hair and nails were not decayed, and 
 the skin was like tanned leather ; but it had 
 lain so long there that the bones had become 
 spongy. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. P. I. 
 
 MOBAL INTEREST OF TOPOGRAPHICAL WORKS. 
 IX)CAJ, ATTACHMENT. 
 
 Let none our Author rudely blame 
 Who from the story has thus long digrest ; 
 
 But for his righteous pains may his fair fame 
 For ever travel, whilst his ashes rest. 
 
 SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT. 
 
 READER, if thou carest little or nothing for 
 the Yorkshire river Don and for the town 
 of Doncaster, and for the circumstances 
 connected with it, I am sorry for thee. My 
 venerable friend the Doctor was of a dif- 
 ferent disposition. He was one who loved, 
 like Southey, 
 
 uncontrolled, as in a dream 
 To muse upon the course of human things ; 
 Exploring sometimes the remotest springs, 
 Far as tradition lends one guiding gleam ; 
 Or following upon Thought's audacious wings 
 Into Futurity the endless stream. 
 
 He could not only find 
 
 tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
 
 Sermons in stones, and good in every thing, 
 
 but endeavoured to find all he could in them, 
 and for that reason delighted to inquire into 
 the history of places and of things, and to 
 understand their past as well as their present 
 state. The revolutions of a mansion house 
 within his circuit were as interesting to him 
 as those of the Mogul Empire ; ami he had 
 as much satisfaction in being acquainted 
 with the windings of a brook from its springs 
 
 SlIAKESPEAKP.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 81 
 
 to the place where it fell into the Don, as 
 he could have felt in knowing that the 
 sources of the Nile had been explored, or 
 the course and termination of the Niger. 
 
 Hear, Reader, what a journalist says upon 
 rivers in the newest and most approved 
 style of critical and periodical eloquence ! 
 He says, and he regarded himself no doubt 
 with no small complacency while so saying, 
 
 "An acquaintance with" Rivers "well 
 deserves to be erected into a distinct science. 
 We hail Potamology with a cordial greeting, 
 and welcome it to our studies, parlours, 
 schools, reading-rooms, lecture-rooms, me- 
 chanics' institutes and universities. There 
 is no end to the interest which Rivers excite. 
 They may be considered physically, geogra- 
 phically, historically, politically, commer- 
 cially, mathematically, poetically, pictorially, 
 morally, and even religiously in the 
 world's anatomy they are its veins, as the 
 primitive mountains, those mighty structures 
 of granite, are its bones ; they minister to 
 the fertility of the earth, the purity of the 
 air, and the health of mankind. They mark 
 out nature's kingdoms and provinces, and are 
 the physical dividers and subdividers of 
 continents. They welcome the bold dis- 
 coverer into the heart of the country, to 
 whose coast the sea has borne his adventur- 
 ous bark. The richest freights have floated 
 on their bosoms, and the bloodiest battles 
 have been fought upon their banks. They 
 move the wheels of cotton mills by their 
 mechanical power, and madden the souls of 
 poets and painters by their picturesque 
 splendour. They make scenery and are 
 scenery, and land yields no landscape with- 
 out water. They are the best vehicle for 
 the transit of the goods of the merchant, and 
 for the illustration of the maxims of the 
 moralist. The figure is so familiar, that we 
 scarcely detect a metaphor when the stream 
 of life and the course of time flow on into 
 the ocean of Eternity." 
 
 Hear, hear, oh hear! 
 
 Udite 
 
 Fiumi correnti, e rive, 
 
 E voi fontant vive ! * 
 
 * GIUSTO DE' CONTB. 
 
 Yet the person who wrote this was neither 
 deficient in feeling, nor in power ; it is the 
 epidemic vice prevailing in an age of jour- 
 nals that has infected him. They who frame 
 their style ad captandum fall into this vein, 
 and as immediate effect is their object they 
 are wise in their generation. The public to 
 which they address themselves are attracted 
 by it, as flies swarm about treacle. 
 
 We are advanced from the Age of Reason 
 to the Age of Intellect, and this is the 
 current eloquence of that age ! let us get 
 into an atmosphere of common sense. 
 
 Topographical pursuits, my Doctor used 
 to say, tend to preserve and promote the 
 civilisation of which they are a consequence 
 and a proof. They have always prospered 
 in prosperous countries, and nourished most 
 in flourishing times, when there have been 
 persons enough of opulence to encourage such 
 studies, and of leisure to engage in them. 
 Italy and the Low Countries therefore took 
 the lead in this branch of literature ; the Spa- 
 niards and Portuguese cultivated it in their 
 better days ; and beginning among ourselves 
 with Henry VIII. it has been continued with 
 increasing zeal down to the present time. 
 
 Whatever strengthens our local attach- 
 ments is favourable both to individual and 
 national character. Our home, our birth 
 place, our native land, think for awhile 
 what the virtues are which arise out of the 
 feelings connected with these words ; and if 
 thou hast any intellectual eyes thou wilt then 
 perceive the connection between topography 
 and patriotism. 
 
 Show me a man who cares no more for 
 one place than another, and I will show you 
 in that same person one who loves nothing 
 but himself. Beware of those who are 
 homeless by choice ! You have no hold on 
 a human being whose affections are without 
 a tap-root. The laws recognise this truth 
 in the privileges which they confer upon 
 freeholders ; and public opinion acknow- 
 ledges it also, in the confidence which it re- 
 poses upon those who have, what is called a 
 stake in the country. Vagabond and rogue 
 are convertible terms ; and with how much 
 propriety any one may understand who
 
 82 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 knows what are the habits of the wandering 
 classes, such as gypsies, tinkers, and potters. 
 
 The feeling of local attachment was pos- 
 sessed by Daniel Dove in the highest degree. 
 Spurzheim and the crazyologists would 
 have found out a bump on his head for its 
 local habitation ; letting that quackery 
 pass, it is enough for me to know that he 
 derived this feeling from his birth as a 
 mountaineer, and that he had also a right to 
 it by inheritance, as one whose ancestors 
 had from time immemorial dwelt upon the 
 same estate. Smile not contemptuously at 
 that word, ye whose domains extend over 
 more square miles than there were square 
 roods upon his patrimony ! To have held 
 that little patrimony unimpaired, as well as 
 unenlarged, through so many generations, 
 implies more contentment, more happiness, 
 and a more uniform course of steadiness and 
 good conduct, than could be found in the 
 proudest of your genealogies ! 
 
 The most sacred spot upon earth to him 
 was his father's hearth-stead. Rhine, Rhone, 
 Danube, Thames or Tyber, the mighty 
 Ganges or the mightier Maranon, even 
 Jordan itself, affected his imagination less 
 than the Greta, or Wease as he was wont to 
 call it, of bis native fields ; whose sounds in 
 his boyhood were the first which he heard at 
 morning and the last at night, and during so 
 many peaceful and happy years made as it 
 were an accompaniment to his solitary mu- 
 sings, as he walked between his father's house 
 and his schoolmaster's, to and fro. 
 
 Next to that wild river Wease whose 
 visible course was as delightful to the eye 
 and ear, as its subterranean one was to the 
 imagination, he loved the Don. He was 
 not one of those refined persons who like to 
 lessen their admiration of one object by 
 comparing it with another. It entered as 
 little into his mind to depreciate the Don 
 because it was not a mountain stream, as it 
 did into Corporal Trim's or Uncle Toby's 
 to think the worse of Bohemia because it 
 has no sea coast. What if it had no falls, 
 no rapids or resting-places, no basins whose 
 pellucid water might tempt Diana and tlie 
 Oreades to bathe in it ; instead of these the 
 
 Don had beauties of its own, and utilities 
 which give to such beauties when combined 
 with them an additional charm. There was 
 not a more pleasing object in the landscape 
 to his eyes than the broad sail of a barge 
 slowly moving between the trees, and bear- 
 ing into the interior of England the proauce 
 of the Baltic, and of the East and West. 
 
 The place in the world which he loved 
 best was Ingleton, because in that little 
 peaceful village, as in his childhood it was, 
 he had once known every body and every 
 body had known him ; and all his recollec- 
 tions of it were pleasurable, till time cast 
 over them a softening but a pensive hue. 
 But next to Ingleton he loved Doncaster. 
 
 And wherefore did he thus like Don- 
 caster ? For a better reason than the 
 epigrammatist could give for not liking Dr. 
 Fell, though perhaps many persons have no 
 better than that epigrammatist had in tiiis 
 case, for most of their likings and dislikings. 
 He liked it because he must have been a 
 very unreasonable man if he had not been 
 thankful that his lot had fallen there be- 
 cause he was useful and respected there, 
 contented, prosperous, happy; finally lie- 
 cause it is a very likeable place, being one 
 of the most comfortable towns in England : 
 for it is clean, spacious, in a salubrious 
 situation, well-built, well-governed, has no 
 manufactures, few poor, a greater propor- 
 tion of inhabitants who are not engaged in 
 any trade or calling, than perhaps any other 
 town in the kingdom, and moreover it sends 
 no members to parliament. 
 
 INTERCHAPTER in. 
 
 THE AUTHOR QUESTIONS THE PROPRIETY OF 
 PERSONIFYING CIRCUMSTANCE. DENIES THE 
 UNITY AND INDIVISIBILITY OF THE PUBLIC, 
 AND MAY EVEN BE SUSPECTED OF DOUBT- 
 ING ITS OMNISCIENCE AND ITS INFALLI- 
 BILITY. 
 
 Haforse 
 
 Testa la plcbe, ove si cfiiuda in rece 
 Di senno, altro che nebbia ? o forma voce 
 Chi sla piit saggia, che un belit d'armento ? 
 
 CHIABRERA. 
 
 " WHAT a kind of Being is circumstance ! M
 
 TIIE DOCTOR. 
 
 83 
 
 says Horace Wai pole in his atrocious tragedy 
 of the Mysterious Mother. A very odd 
 kind of Being indeed. In the course of my 
 reading I remember but three Beings equally 
 remarkable, as personified in prose and 
 verse. Social-Tie was one ; Catastrophe 
 another ; and Inoculation, heavenly Maid ! 
 the third. 
 
 But of all ideal Beings the most extra- 
 ordinary is that which we call the Public. 
 The Public and Transubstantiation I hold 
 to be the two greatest mysteries in or out 
 of nature. And there are certain points of 
 resemblance between them. For as the 
 Priest creates the one mystery, so the author, 
 or other appellant to the said Public, creates 
 the other, and both bow down in worship, 
 real or simulated, before the Idol of their 
 own creation. And as every fragment of the 
 wafer, break it into as many as you may, 
 contains in itself the whole entire mystery of 
 transubstantiation, just in the same manner 
 every fractional part of the Public assumes 
 to itself the powers, privileges and preroga- 
 tives of the whole, as virtually, potentially 
 and indefeasably its own. Nay, every in- 
 dividual who deems himself a constituent 
 member of the said Public arrogates them 
 also, and when he professes to be acting pro 
 bono publico, the words mean with him all 
 the good he can possibly get for himself. 
 
 The old and famous illustration of Hermes 
 may be in part applied to the Public ; it is 
 a circle of which the centre is every where : 
 in part I say, for its circumference is de- 
 fined. It is bounded by language, and has 
 many intercircles. It is indeed a confused 
 multiciplity of circles intersecting each 
 other, perpetually in motion and in change. 
 Every man is the centre of some circle, and 
 yet involved in others ; he who is not some- 
 times made giddy by their movements, has a 
 strong head ; and he who is not sometimes 
 thrown off his balance by them, stands well 
 upon his legs. 
 
 Again, the Public is like a nest of patent 
 coffins packed for exportation, one within 
 another. There are Publics of all sizes, 
 from the genus generalissimum, the great 
 general universal Public, whom London is 
 
 not large enough to hold, to the species 
 specialissima, the little Thinking Public, 
 which may find room in a nutshell. 
 
 There is the fashionable Public, and the 
 Religious Public, and the Play-going Public, 
 and the Sporting Public, and the Commercial 
 Public, and the Literary Public, and the 
 Reading Public, and heaven knows how 
 many Publics more. They call themselves 
 Worlds sometimes, as if a certain number 
 of worldlings made a World ! 
 
 He who pays his homage to any or all of 
 these Publics, is a Publican and a Sinner. 
 
 " Nunquam valui populo p'acere ; nam qiue ego scio 
 non probat populus ; qiue prubat pjpulus, ego nescio." * 
 
 " Bene et ille,<]uisquisfnit, (ambigitur enim deauctore.) 
 cum qiuereretur ab illo, quo tttnta diligentia artis spec- 
 taret ad paucissimos pervenlura:? Satis sunt, inquit, 
 mihi pauci ; satis est unus ; satis est nitllus." * 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. P. I. 
 
 DONCASTRIANA. POTTERIC CARR. SOMETHING 
 CONCERNING THE MEANS OF EMPLOYING 
 THE POOR, AND BETTERING THEIR CON- 
 DITION. 
 
 Why should I sowen draf out of my fist, 
 When 1 may sowen wheat, if that me list ? 
 
 CHAUCER. 
 
 DONCASTER is built upon a peninsula, or 
 ridge of land, about a mile across, having a 
 gentle slope from east to west, and bounded 
 on the west by the river ; this ridge is com- 
 posed of three strata, to wit, of the allu- 
 vial soil deposited by the river in former 
 ages, and of limestone on the north and west ; 
 and of sandstone to the south and east. To 
 the south of this neck of land lies a tract 
 called Potteric Carr, which is much below 
 the level of the river, and was a morass, or 
 range of fens, when our Doctor first took 
 up his abode in Doncaster. This tract ex- 
 tends about four miles in length and nearly 
 three in breadth, and the security which it 
 afforded against an attack on that side, while 
 the river protected the peninsula by its 
 
 * SENECA, 2, 79.
 
 SI4 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 semicircular bend on the other, was evi- 
 dently one reason why the Romans fixed 
 upon the site of Doncaster for a station. In 
 Brockett's Glossary of North-Country words, 
 Carr is interpreted to mean "flat marshy 
 land ; a pool or lake ; " but the etymology 
 of the word is yet to be discovered. 
 
 These fens were drained and enclosed 
 pursuant to an act of Parliament which was 
 obtained for that purpose in the year 1766. 
 Three principal drains were then cut, four- 
 teen feet wide, and about four miles long, 
 into which the water was conducted from 
 every part of the Carr, southward, to the 
 little river Torne, at Rossington Bridge, 
 whence it flows into the Trent. Before these 
 drainings the ground was liable to frequent 
 inundations, and about the centre there was 
 a decoy for wild ducks : there is still a deep 
 water there of considerable extent, in which 
 very large pike and eels are found. The 
 soil, which was so boggy at first that horses 
 were lost when attempting to drink at the 
 drains, has been brought into good cultiva- 
 tion (as all such ground may be) to the 
 great improvement of the district ; for till 
 this improvement was effected intermittent 
 fevers and sore throats were prevalent there, 
 and they have ceased from the time that the 
 land was drained. The most unhealthy 
 season now is the Spring, when cold winds 
 from the North and North East usually 
 prevail during some six weeks ; at other 
 times Doncaster is considered to be a healthy 
 place. It has been observed that when en- 
 demic diseases arrive there, they uniformly 
 come from the south ; and that the state of 
 the weather may be foretold from a know- 
 ledge of what it has been at a given time 
 in London, making an allowance of about 
 three days, for the chance of winds. Here, 
 as in all places which lie upon a great and 
 frequented road, the transmission of diseases 
 has been greatly facilitated by the increase 
 of travelling. 
 
 But before we leave Potteric Carr, let us 
 try, reader, whether we cannot improve it in 
 another way, that is, in the dissenting and 
 so-called evangelical sense of the word, in 
 which sense the battle of Trafalgar was im- 
 
 proved, in a sermon by the Reverend John 
 Evans. Gentle Reader, let you and I in 
 like manner endeavour to improve this en- 
 closure of the Carr. 
 
 Four thousand acres of bog whereof that 
 Carr consisted, and upon which common 
 sand, coal ashes, and the scrapings of a lime- 
 stone road were found the best manure, 
 produce now good crops of grain, and ex- 
 cellent pasturage. 
 
 There are said to be in England and 
 Wales at this time 3,984,000 acres of uncul- 
 tivated but cultivable ground ; 5,950,000 in 
 Scotland; 4,900,000 in Ireland; 166,000 in 
 the smaller British Islands. Crags, woods, 
 and barren land are not included in this 
 statement. Here are 15,000,000 acres, the 
 worst of which is as good as the morass 
 which has been reclaimed near Doncaster, 
 and the far greater part very materially 
 better. 
 
 I address myself now to any one of my 
 readers who pays poor rates ; but more 
 especially to him who has any part in the 
 disposal of those rates ; and most especially 
 to a clergyman, a magistrate, and a mem- 
 ber of Parliament. 
 
 The money which is annually raised for 
 poor-rates in England and Wales has for some 
 years amounted to from five to six millions. 
 With all this expenditure cases are con- 
 tinually occurring of death from starvation, 
 either of hunger or cold, or both together ; 
 wretches are carried before the magistrates 
 for the offence of lying in the streets or in 
 unfinished houses, when they have not where 
 to hide their heads ; others have been found 
 dead by the side of limekilns, or bi-ickkilns, 
 whither they had crept to save themselves 
 from perishing for cold ; and untold num- 
 bers die of the diseases produced by scanty 
 and unwholesome food. 
 
 This money, moreover, is for the most 
 part so applied, that they who have a right- 
 ful claim upon it, receive less than injustice, 
 in humanity, and according to the intent of 
 a law wisely and humanely enacted, ought 
 to be their portion ; while they who have 
 only a legal claim upon it, that claim arising 
 from an evil usage which has become pre-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 srriptive, receive pay, where justice, policy, 
 and considerate humanity, and these Tery 
 aws "themselves, if rightly administered, 
 would award restraint or punishment. 
 
 Thus it is in those parts of the United 
 Kingdom, where a provision for the poor is 
 directly raised by law. In Scotland the pio- 
 x>rtion of paupers is little less, and the evils 
 attendant upon poverty are felt in an equal 
 or nearly equal degree. In Ireland they 
 exist to a far greater extent, and may truly 
 be called terrible. 
 
 Is it fitting that this should be while there 
 are fifteen millions of cultivable acres lying 
 waste ? Is it possible to conceive grosser im- 
 providence in a nation, grosser folly, grosser 
 norance of its duty and interest, or grosser 
 neglect of both, than are manifested in the 
 continuance and growth and increase of this 
 enormous evil, when the means of checking 
 it are so obvious, and that too by a process 
 in which every step must produce direct and 
 tangible good ? 
 
 But while the Government is doing those 
 things which it ought not to have done, and 
 leaves undone those which it ought to do, 
 let Parishes and Corporations do what is in 
 their power for themselves. m And bestir 
 yourselves in this good work, ye who can ! 
 The supineness of the Government is no ex- 
 cuse for you. It is in the exertions of indi- 
 viduals that all national reformation must 
 begin. Go to work cautiously, experiment- 
 ally, patiently, charitably, and in faith ! I 
 am neither so enthusiastic as to suppose, 
 nor so rash as to assert, that a cure may 
 thus be found for the complicated evils 
 arising from the condition of the labouring 
 classes. But it is one of those remedial 
 means by which much misery may be re- 
 lieved, and much of that profligacy that 
 arises from hopeless wretchedness be pre- 
 vented. It is one of those means from which 
 present relief may be obtained, and future 
 good expected. It is the readiest way in 
 which useful employment can be provided 
 for the industrious poor. And if the land 
 so appropriated should produce nothing 
 more than is required for the support of 
 those employed in cultivating it, and who 
 
 must otherwise be partly or wholly supported 
 by the poor-rates, such cultivation would, 
 even then, be profitable to the public. 
 Wherever there is heath, moor or fen, 
 which there is in every part of the Island, 
 there is work for the spade ; employment 
 and subsistence for man is to be found there, 
 and room for him to encrease and multiply 
 for generations. 
 
 Reader, if you doubt that bog and bad 
 land may be profitably cultivated, go and 
 look at Potteric Carr, (the members of both 
 Houses who attend Doncaster Races, may 
 spare an hour for this at the next meeting). 
 If you desire to know in what manner the 
 poor who are now helpless may be settled 
 upon such land, so as immediately to earn 
 their own maintenance, and in a short time to 
 repay the first cost of their establishment, 
 read the account of the Pauper Colonies in 
 Holland ; for there the experiment has been 
 tried, and we have the benefit of their 
 experience. 
 
 As for the whole race of Political Econo- 
 mists, our Malthusites, Benthamites, Utili- 
 tarians or Futilitarians, they are to the 
 Government of this Country such counsellors 
 as the magicians were to Pharaoh ; whosoever 
 listens to them has his heart hardened. 
 But they are no conjurors. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. P. I. 
 
 REMARKS ON AN OPINION OF MR. CHABBB's. 
 TOPOGRAPHICAL POETRY. DKATTON. 
 
 Do, pious marble, let thy readers know 
 
 What they and what their children owe 
 
 To Drayton's name, whose sacred dust 
 
 We recommend unto thy trust. 
 
 Protect his memory, and preserve his story ; 
 
 Remain a lasting monument of his glory ; 
 
 And when thy ruins shall disclaim 
 
 To be the Treasurer of his name, 
 
 His name that cannot fade, shall be 
 
 An everlasting monument to thee. 
 
 EPITAPH IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 
 
 THE Poet Crabbe has said that there subsists 
 an utter repugnancy between the studies of 
 topography and poetry. He must have 
 intended by topography, when he said so,
 
 8(3 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 the mere definition of boundaries and speci- 
 fication of land-marks, such as are given in 
 the advertisement of an estate for sale ; and 
 boys in certain parts of the country are 
 taught to bear in mind by a remembrance 
 in tail when the bounds of a parish are walked 
 by the local authorities. Such topography 
 indeed bears as little relation to poetry as a 
 map or chart to a picture. 
 
 But if he had any wider meaning, it is 
 evident, by the number of topographical 
 poems, good, bad and indifferent, with 
 which our language abounds, that Mr. 
 Crabbe's predecessors in verse, and his con- 
 temporaries also, have differed greatly from 
 him in opinion upon this point. The Poly- 
 olbion, notwithstanding its common-place 
 personifications and its inartificial transitions, 
 which are as abrupt as those in the Meta- 
 morphoses and the Fasti, and not so graceful, 
 is nevertheless a work as much to be valued 
 by the students and lovers of English litera- 
 ture, as by the writers of local history. 
 Dray ton himself, whose great talents were 
 deservedly esteemed by the ablest of his 
 contemporaries in the richest age of English 
 poetry, thought he could not be more 
 worthily employed than in what he calls the 
 Herculean task of this topographical poem ; 
 and in that belief he was encouraged by his 
 friend and commentator Selden, to whose 
 name the epithet of learned was in old times 
 always and deservedly affixed. With how 
 becoming a sense of its dignity and variety 
 the Poet entered upon his subject, these 
 lines may shew : 
 
 Thou powerful God of flames, in verse divinely great, 
 Touch my invention so with thy true genuine heat, 
 That high and noble things I slightly may not tell, 
 Nor light and idle toys my lines may vainly swell ; 
 But as my subject serves so high or low to strain, 
 And to the varying earth so suit my varying strain, 
 That Nature in my work thou mayest thy power avow ; 
 That as thou first found'st art, and didst her rules allow, 
 So T, to thine own self that gladly near would be, 
 May herein do the best in imitating thee. 
 As thou hast here a hill, a vale there, there a flood, 
 A mead here, there a heath, and now and then a wood. 
 These things so in my song I naturally may show 
 Now as the mountain high, then as the valley low ; 
 Here fruitful as the mead ; there as the heath be bare, 
 Then as the gloomy wood I may be rough, tho' rare. 
 
 I would not say of this Poet, as Kirkpatrick 
 gays of him, that when he 
 
 his Albion sung 
 
 With their own praise the echoing vallies rung; 
 His bounding Muse o'er every mountain rode, 
 And every river warbled where he flowed ; 
 
 but I may say that if instead of sending his 
 Muse to ride over the mountains, and 
 resting contented with her report, he had 
 ridden or walked over them himself, his 
 poem would better have deserved that praise 
 for accuracy which has been bestowed upon 
 it by critics who had themselves no know- 
 ledge which could enable them to say 
 whether it were accurate or not. Camden 
 was more diligent; he visited some of the 
 remotest counties of which he wrote. 
 
 This is not said with any intention of 
 detracting from Michael Drayton's fame : 
 the most elaborate criticism could neither 
 raise him above the station which he holds 
 in English literature, nor degrade him from 
 it. He is extolled not beyond the just 
 measure of his deserts in his epitaph, which 
 has been variously ascribed to Ben Jonson, 
 to Randolph, and to Quarles, but with most 
 probability to "the former, who knew and 
 admired and loved him. 
 
 He was a poet by nature, and carefully 
 improved his talent ; one who sedulously 
 laboured to deserve the approbation of such 
 as were capable of appreciating, and cared 
 nothing for the censures which others might 
 pass upon him. " Like me that list," he 
 says, 
 
 my honest rhymes, 
 Nor care for critics, nor regard the times. 
 
 And though he is not a poet virum volitare 
 per ora, nor one of those whose better 
 fortune it is to live in the hearts of their 
 devoted admirers, yet what he deemed his 
 greatest work will be preserved by its 
 subject ; some of his minor poems have 
 merit enough in their execution to ensure 
 their preservation, and no one who studies 
 poetry as an art will think his time mis-spent 
 in perusing the whole, if he have any real 
 love for the art which he is pursuing. The 
 youth who enters upon that pursuit without 
 a feeling of respect and gratitude for those 
 elder poets, who by their labours have pre- 
 pared the way for him, is not likely to
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 87 
 
 produce any thing himself that will be held 
 in remembrance by posterity. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. P. I. 
 
 ANECDOTES OF PETER HEYLYN AND LIGHT- 
 FOOT, EXEMPLIFYING THAT GREAT KNOW- 
 LEDGE IS NOT ALWAYS APPLICABLE TO 
 LITTLE THINGS : AND THAT AS CHARITY 
 BEGINS AT HOME, SO IT MAY WITH EQUAL 
 TRUTH SOMKTIMKS BE SAID THAT KNOW- 
 LEDGE ENDS THERE. 
 
 A scholar in his study knows the stars, 
 
 Their motion and their influence, which are fix'd, 
 
 And which are wandering ; can decypher seas, 
 
 And give each several land his proper bounds : 
 
 But set him to the compass, he's to seek, 
 
 Where a plain pilot can direct his course 
 
 From hence unto both the Indies, HEYWOOD. 
 
 THERE was a Poet who wrote a descriptive 
 poem, and then took a journey to see the 
 scenes which he had described. Better late 
 then never, he thought; and thought wisely 
 in so thinking. Dray ton was not likely to 
 have acted thus upon after consideration, if 
 in the first conception of his subject he did 
 not feel sufficient ardour for such an under- 
 taking. It would have required indeed a 
 spirit of enterprise as unusual in those days 
 as it is ordinary now. Many a long day's 
 ride must he have taken over rough roads, 
 and in wild countries ; and many a weary 
 step would it have cost him, and many a 
 poor lodging must he have put up with at 
 night, where he would have found poor fare, 
 if not cold comfort. So he thought it 
 enough, in many if not most parts, to travel 
 by the map, and believed himself to have 
 been sufficiently " punctual and exact in 
 giving unto every province its peculiar 
 bounds, in laying out their several land- 
 marks, tracing the course of most of the 
 principal rivers, and setting forth the situa- 
 tion and estate of the chiefest towns." 
 
 Peter Heylyn, who speaks thus of his own 
 exactness in a work partaking enough of 
 the same nature as the Poly-olbion to be 
 remembered here, though it be in prose and 
 upon a wider subject, tells a humorous 
 
 anecdote of himself, in the preface to his 
 Cosmography. " He that shall think this 
 work imperfect, " says he, " (though I 
 confess it to be nothing but imperfections) 
 for some deficiencies of this kind, may be 
 likened to the country fellow, (in Aristo- 
 phanes, if my memory fail not), who picked 
 a great quarrel with the map because he 
 could not find where his own farm stood. 
 And such a country customer I did meet 
 with once, a servant of my elder brother, 
 sent by him with some horses to Oxford, to 
 bring me and a friend of mine unto his 
 house ; who having lost his way as we passed 
 through the forest of Whichwood, and not 
 being able to recover any beaten track, did 
 very earnestly entreat me to lead the way, 
 till I had brought him past the woods to the 
 open fields. Which when I had refused to 
 do, as I had good reason, alledging that I 
 had never been there before, and therefore 
 that I could not tell which way to lead him ; 
 ' that's strange ! ' said he ; ' I have heard 
 my old master, your father, say that you 
 made a book of all the world ; and cannot 
 you find your way out of the wood ?'" 
 
 Peter Heylyn was one who fell on evil 
 times, and on whom, in consequence, evil 
 tongues have fallen. But he was an able, 
 honest, brave man, who " stood to his 
 tackling when he was tasted." And if thou 
 hast not read his Survey of the State of 
 France, Reader, thou hast not read one of 
 our liveliest books of travels in its lighter 
 parts ; and one of the wisest and most replete 
 with information that ever was written by a 
 young man. 
 
 His more learned contemporary Lightfoot, 
 who steered a safer but not so straight a 
 course, met with an adventure not unlike 
 that of Heylyn's in the forest ; but the ap- 
 plication which in the cosmographist's case 
 was ridiculously made by an ignorant and 
 simple man, was in this instance self-ori- 
 ginated. 
 
 Lightfoot had promised to set forth as an 
 accompaniment to his Harmony of the 
 Evangelists, " A chorographical description 
 of the land of Canaan, and those adjoining 
 places, that we have occasion to look upon
 
 88 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 as we read the Gospels ." " I went on in 
 that work," he says, " a good while, and that 
 with much cheerfulness and content ! for 
 methought a Talmudical survey and history 
 of the land of Canaan, (not omitting collec- 
 tions to be taken up out of the Scripture, 
 and other writers,) as it would be new and 
 rare, so it might not prove unwelcome nor 
 unprofitable to those that delighted in such 
 a subject." It cost him as much pains to 
 give the description as it would have done 
 to travel thither ; but says one of his Edi- 
 tors, " the unhappy chance that hindered the 
 publishing this elaborate piece of his, which 
 he had brought to pretty good perfection, 
 was the edition of Doctor Fuller's Pisgah 
 Sight ; great pity it was that so good a book 
 should have done so much harm ; for that 
 book, handling the same matters and pre- 
 venting his, stopped his resolution of letting 
 his labours on that subject see the light. 
 Though he went a way altogether different 
 from Dr. Fuller ; and so both might have 
 shown their face together in the world ; and 
 the younger sister, if we may make com- 
 parisons, might have proved the fairer of the 
 two." 
 
 It is pleasant to see how liberally and 
 equitably both Lightfoot and Fuller speak 
 upon this matter ; " But at last, says the 
 former, I understood that another workman, 
 a far better artist than myself, had the de- 
 scription of the Land of Israel, not only in 
 hand, but even in the press ; and was so far 
 got before me in that travel that he was 
 almost at his journey's end, when I was but 
 little more than setting out. It was grievous 
 to me to have lost my labour, if I should 
 now sit down ; and yet I thought it wisdom 
 not to lose more in proceeding farther, when 
 one on the same subject, and of far more 
 abilities in it, had got the start so far before 
 me. 
 
 " And although I supposed, and at last 
 was assured, even by that Author himself 
 (my very learned and worthy friend) that 
 we should not thrust nor hinder one another 
 any whit at all, though we both went at 
 once in the perambulation of that land, 
 because he had not meddled with that Rab- 
 
 binic way that I had gone ; yet, when I 
 considered what it was to glean after so clean 
 a reaper, and how rough a Talmudical pencil 
 would seem after so fine a pen, I resolved to 
 sit down, and to stir no more in that matter, 
 till time and occasion did show me more 
 encouragement thereunto, than as yet I saw. 
 And thus was my promise fallen to the 
 ground, not by any carelessness or forget- 
 fulness of mine, but by the happy preven- 
 tion of another hand, by whom the work is 
 likely to be better done. Yet was I unwil- 
 ling to suffer my word utterly to come to 
 nothing at all, though I might evade my 
 promise by this fair excuse : but I was 
 desirous to pay the reader something in 
 pursuance of it, though it were not in this 
 very same coin, nor the very same sum, that 
 I had undertaken. Hereupon I turned my 
 thoughts and my endeavours to a description 
 of the Temple after the same manner, and 
 from the same authors, that I had intended 
 to have described the Land ; and that the 
 rather, not only that I might do some thing 
 towards making good my promise ; but also, 
 that by a trial in a work of this nature of a 
 lesser bulk, I might take some pattern and 
 assay how the other, which would prove of 
 a far larger pains and volume, would be 
 accepted, if I should again venture upon it." 
 Lightfoot was sincere in the commenda- 
 tion which he bestowed upon Fuller's dili- 
 gence, and his felicitous way of writing. 
 And Fuller on his part rendered justice in 
 the same spirit to Lightfoot's well known 
 and peculiar erudition. " Far be it from 
 me," he says, " that our pens should fall 
 out, like the herdsmen of Lot and Abraham, 
 the land not being able to bear them both, 
 that they might dwell together. No such 
 want of room in this subject, being of such 
 latitude and receipt, that both we and hun- 
 dreds more, busied together therein, may 
 severally lose ourselves in a subject of such 
 capacity. The rather, because we embrace 
 several courses in this our description ; it 
 being my desire and delight, to stick only 
 to the written word of God, whilst my 
 worthy friend takes in the choicest Rabbi- 
 nical and Talmudical relations, being so
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 89 
 
 well seen iu these studies, that it is ques- 
 tionable whether his skill or my ignorance 
 be the greater therein." 
 
 Now then (for now and then go thus 
 lovingly together, in familiar English) 
 after these preliminaries, the learned Light- 
 foot, who at seven years of age, it is said, 
 could not only read fluently the biblical 
 Hebrew, but readily converse in it, may tell 
 his own story. 
 
 " Here by the way," he says, " I cannot 
 but mention, and I think I can never for- 
 get, a handsome and deserved check that 
 mine own heart, meeting with a special 
 occasion, did give me, upon the laying down 
 of the other task, and the undertaking of 
 this, for my daring to enter either upon the 
 one or the other. That very day wherein I 
 first set pen to paper to draw up the de- 
 scription of the Temple, having but imme- 
 diately before laid aside my thoughts of the 
 description of the Land, I was necessarily 
 called out, towards the evening, to go to 
 view a piece of ground of mine own, con- 
 cerning which some litigiousness was emerg- 
 ing, and about to grow. The field was but 
 a mile from my constant residence and habi- 
 tation, and it had been in mine owning 
 divers years together ; and yet till that very 
 time, had I never seen it, nor looked after 
 it, nor so much as knew whereabout it lay. 
 It was very unlikely I should find it out 
 myself, being so utterly ignorant of its situa- 
 tion ; yet because I desired to walk alone, 
 for the enjoying of my thoughts upon that 
 task that I had newly taken in hand, I took 
 some direction which way to go, and would 
 venture to find out the field myself alone. 
 I had not gone far, but I was at a loss ; and 
 whether I went right or wrong I could not 
 tell ; and if right thither, yet I knew not 
 how to do so farther ; and if wrong, I knew 
 not which way would prove the right, and 
 so in seeking my ground I had lost myself. 
 Here my heart could not but take me to 
 task ; and, reflecting upon what my studies 
 were then, and had lately been upon, it could 
 not but call me fool ; and methought it spake 
 as true to me, as ever it had done in all my 
 life, but only when it called me sinner. 
 
 A fool that was so studious, and had been so 
 searching about things remote, and that so 
 little concerned my interest, and yet was 
 so neglective of what was near me, both in 
 place, and in my particular concernment ! 
 And a fool again, who went about to de- 
 scribe to others, places and buildings that 
 lay so many hundred miles off, as from hence 
 to Canaan, and under so many hundred 
 years' ruins, and yet was not able to know, 
 or find the way to a field of mine own, that 
 lay so near me ! 
 
 " I could not but acknowledge this re- 
 proof to be both seasonable, and seasoned 
 both with truth and reason ; and it so far 
 prevailed with me, that it not only put me 
 upon a resolution to lay by that work that I 
 had newly taken in hand that morning, but 
 also to be wiser in my bookishness for the 
 time to come, than for it, and through it, to 
 neglect and sink my estate as I had done. 
 And yet within a little time after, I know 
 not how, I was fallen to the same studies and 
 studiousness again, had got my laid-up 
 task into my hands again before I was aware, 
 and was come to a determination to go on 
 in that work, because I had my notes and 
 collections ready by me as materials for it ; 
 and when that was done, then to think of the 
 advice that my heart had given me, and to 
 look to mine own business. 
 
 " So I drew up the description of the 
 Temple itself, and with it the History of the 
 Temple-service." 
 
 Lightfoot's heart was wise when it ad- 
 monished him of humility ; but it was full of 
 deceit when it read him a lesson of worldly 
 wisdom, for which his conscience and his 
 better mind would have said to him " Thou 
 Fool ! " if he had followed it.
 
 90 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 THE HEADER IS LED TO INFER THAT A 
 TRAVELLER WHO STOPS UPON THE WAT 
 TO SKETCH, BOTANISE, ENTOMOLOGISE, OR 
 MINEEALOGISE, TRAVELS WITH MORE 
 PLEASURE AND PROFIT TO HIMSELF THAN 
 IF HE WERE IN THE MAIL COACH. 
 
 Non sert'fo materite sed indulgeo ; quant quo rivcit se- 
 quendum est, nan quo invitat. SENECA. 
 
 FEAR not, my patient reader, that I should 
 lose myself and bewilder you, either in the 
 Holy land, or Whichwood forest, or in the 
 wide fields of the Poly-olbion, or in Potteric 
 Carr, or in any part of the country about 
 Doncaster, most fortunate of English towns 
 for circumstances which I have already 
 stated and henceforth to be the most illus- 
 trious, as having been the place where 
 my never-to-be-forgotten Philosopher and 
 friend passed the greater part of his inno- 
 cent and useful and happy life. Good patient 
 reader, you may confide in me as in one who 
 always knows his whereabout, and whom 
 the Goddess Upibilia will keep in the right 
 way. 
 
 In treating of that flourishing and every 
 way fortunate town, I have not gone back 
 to visionary times, like the author who 
 wrote a description and drew a map of Angle- 
 sea as it was before the flood. Nor have I 
 touched upon the ages when hyenas prowled 
 over what is now Doncaster race-ground, 
 and great lizards, huge as crocodiles, but 
 with long necks and short tails, took 
 their pleasure in Potteric Carr. I have 
 not called upon thee, gentle and obse- 
 quious reader, to accompany me into a 
 Pra;adamite world, nor even into the ante- 
 diluvian one. We began with the earliest 
 mention of Doncaster no earlier; and 
 shall carry our summary notices of its his- 
 tory to the Doctor's time, no later. And 
 if sometimes the facts on which I may touch 
 should call forth thoughts, and those thoughts 
 remind me of other facts, anecdotes lead- 
 ing to reflection, and reflection producing 
 more anecdotes, thy pleasure will be con- 
 
 sulted in all this, my good and patient 
 reader, and thy profit also as much as mine ; 
 nay, more in truth, for I might think upon 
 all these things in silence, and spare myself 
 the trouble of relating them. 
 
 O Reader, had you in your mind 
 Such stores as silent thought can bring, 
 
 O gentle Reader, you would find 
 A Tale in every thing ! * 
 
 I might muse upon these things and let 
 the hours pass by unheeded as the waters of 
 a river in their endless course. And thus 
 I might live in other years, with those who 
 are departed, in a world of my own, by force 
 of recollection ; or by virtue of sure hope 
 in that world which is their' s now, and to 
 which I shall, ere long, be promoted. 
 
 For thy pleasure, Reader, and for thy 
 improvement, I take upon myself the pains 
 of thus materialising my spiritual stores. 
 Alas ! their earthly uses would perish with 
 me unless they were thus embodied ! 
 
 " The age of a cultivated mind," says an 
 eloquent and wise and thoughtful author, 
 " is often more complacent and even more 
 luxurious, than the youth. It is the reward 
 of the due use of the endowments bestowed 
 by nature : while they who in youth have 
 made no provision for age, are left like an 
 unsheltered tree, stripped of its leaves and 
 its branches, shaking and withering before 
 the cold blasts of winter. 
 
 " In truth, nothing is so happy to itself, 
 and so attractive to others, as a genuine and 
 ripened imagination, that knows its own 
 powers, and throws forth its treasures with 
 frankness and fearlessness. The more it 
 produces, the more capable it becomes of 
 production ; the creative faculty grows by 
 indulgence ; and the more it combines, the 
 more means and varieties of combinations 
 it discovers. 
 
 " When death comes to destroy that mys- 
 terious and magical union of capacities and 
 acquirements which has brought a noble 
 genius to this point of power, how frightful 
 and lamentable is the effect of the stroke 
 that stops the current which was wont to 
 
 WORDSWORTH.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 p:ir this mighty formation into activity! 
 Perhaps the incomprehensible Spirit may 
 have acted in conjunction with its corporeal 
 adherents to the last. Then in one moment, 
 what darkness and destruction follows a 
 sirgle gasp of breath ! " * 
 
 This fine passage is as consolatory in its 
 former part, as it is gloomy at the con- 
 clusion ; and it is gloomy there, because the 
 view which is there taken is imperfect. Our 
 thoughts, our reminiscences, our intellectual 
 acquirements, die with us to this world, 
 but to this world only. If they are what 
 they ought to be, they are treasures which 
 we lay up for Heaven. That which is of 
 the earth, earthy, perishes with wealth, rank, 
 honours, authority, and other earthly and 
 perishable things ; but nothing that is 
 worth retaining can be lost. When Ovid 
 says, in Ben Jonson's play, 
 
 We pour out our affections with our blood, 
 And with our blood's affections fade our loves, 
 
 the dramatist makes the Roman Poet speak 
 like a sensualist, as he was, and the philo- 
 sophy is as false as it is foul. Affections 
 well placed and dutifully cherished ; friend- 
 ships happily formed and faithfully main- 
 tained; knowledge acquired with worthy 
 intent, and intellectual powers that have been 
 diligently improved as the talents which our 
 Lord and Master has committed to our 
 keeping : these will accompany us into ano- 
 ther state of existence, as surely as the 
 soul in that state retains its identity and its 
 consciousness. 
 
 INTERCHAPTER IV. 
 
 ETYMOLOGICAL DISCOVERIES CONCERNING THE 
 REMAINS OF VARIOUS TRIBES OR FAMILIES 
 MENTIONED IN SCRIPTURAL HISTORY. 
 
 All things are big with jest ; nothing that's plain 
 But may be witty if thou hast the vein. HERBERT. 
 
 THAT the lost Ten Tribes of Israel may be 
 found in London, is a discovery which any 
 
 * SIR EGERTON BRYDGES. 
 
 person may suppose he has made, when he 
 walks for the first time from the city to 
 Wapping. That the tribes of Judah and 
 Benjamin flourish there is known to all 
 mankind ; and from them have sprung the 
 Scripites, and the Omniumites, and the 
 Threepercentites. 
 
 But it is not so well known that many 
 other tribes noticed in the Old Testament are 
 to be found in this Island of Great Britain. 
 
 There are the Hittites, who excel in one 
 branch of gymnastics. And there are the 
 Amorites, who are to be found in town and 
 country ; and there are the Gadites, who 
 frequent watering places, and take pictur- 
 esque tours. 
 
 Among the Gadites I shall have some of 
 my best readers, who, being in good humour 
 with themselves and with every thing else, 
 except on a rainy day, will even then be 
 in good humour with me. There will be 
 Amorites in their company ; and among the 
 Amorites, too, there will be some, who, in the 
 overflowing of their love, will have some 
 liking to spare for the Doctor and his faith- 
 ful memorialist. 
 
 The Poets, those especially who deal in 
 erotics, lyrics, sentimentals or sonnets, are 
 the Ah-oh-ites. 
 
 The gentlemen who speculate in chapels 
 are the Puh-ites. 
 
 The chief seat of the Simeonites is at 
 Cambridge ; but they are spread over the 
 land. So are the Man-ass-ites, of whom the 
 finest specimens are to be seen in St. James's- 
 Street, at the fashionable time of day for 
 exhibiting the dress and the person upon the 
 pavement. 
 
 The free-masons are of the family of the 
 Jachinites. 
 
 The female Haggites are to be seen in 
 low life wheeling barrows, and in high life 
 seated at card tables. 
 
 The Shuhamites are the cordwainers. 
 
 The Teamanites attend the sales of the 
 East India Company. 
 
 Sir James Mackintosh, and Sir James 
 Scarlett, and Sir James Graham, belong to 
 the Jim-nites. 
 
 Who are the Gazathites if the people of
 
 92 
 
 THE DOCTOil. 
 
 London are not, where any thing is to be 
 seen ? All of them are Gettites when they 
 can, all would be Havites if they could. 
 
 The journalists should be Geshurites, if 
 they answered to their profession : instead 
 of this they generally turn out to be Geshu- 
 wrongs. 
 
 There are, however, three Tribes in Eng- 
 land, not named in the Old Testament, who 
 considerably outnumber all the rest. These 
 are the High Vulgarites, who are the chil- 
 dren of Rahank and Phashan; the Mid- 
 dle Vulgarites, who are the children of 
 Mammon and Terade, and the Low Vul- 
 garites, who are the children of Tahag, 
 Rahag, and Bohobtay-il. 
 
 With the Low Vulgarites I have no con- 
 cern, but with the other two tribes, much. 
 Well it is that some of those who are fruges 
 consumers nati, think it proper that they 
 should consume books also : if they did not, 
 what a miserable creature wouldst thou be, 
 Henry Colburn, who art their Bookseller ! I 
 myself have that kind of respect for the 
 consumers which we ought to feel for every 
 thing useful. If not the salt of the earth 
 they are its manure, without which it 
 could not produce so abundantly. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 A CHAPTER FOR THE INFORMATION OF THOSE 
 WHO MAY VISIT DONCASTER, AND ESPE- 
 CIALLY OF THOSE WHO FREQUENT THE 
 RACES THERE. 
 
 My good Lord, there is a Corporation, 
 
 A body, a kind of body. 
 
 MlDDLETON. 
 
 WELL, reader, I have told thee something 
 concerning the topography of Doncaster : 
 and now in due order, and as in duty bound, 
 will I give thee a sketch of its history; 
 " summa sequarfastigia rerum" with becom- 
 ing brevity, according to my custom, and in 
 conformity with the design of this book. 
 The Nobility and Gentry who attend the 
 races there, will find it very agreeable to be 
 well acquainted with every thing relating 
 
 to the place ; and I particularly invite their 
 attention to that part of the present chapter 
 which concerns the Doncaster charters, be- 
 cause as a wise and ancient author hath said, 
 turpe est homini nolili ejus civitatis in qua 
 versetur, jus ignorare, which may be thus 
 applied, that every gentleman who frequents 
 Doncaster races ought to know the form 
 and history of its corporation. 
 
 In Edward the Confessor's reign, the 
 soccage part of Doncaster and of some ad- 
 joining townships was under the manor of 
 Hexthorp, though in the topsy-turveying 
 course of time Hexthorp has become part of 
 the soke of Doncaster. Earl Tostig was the 
 Lord of that manor, one of Earl Godwin's 
 sons, and one who holds, like his father, no 
 honourable place in the records of those 
 times, but who in the last scene of his life 
 displayed a heroism that may well redeem 
 his name. The manor being two miles and 
 a half long, and one and a half broad, was 
 valued at eighteen pounds yearly rent ; but 
 when Doomsday book was compiled that rent 
 had decreased one third. It had then been 
 given by the Conqueror to his half-brother 
 Robert Earl of Montaigne in Normandy, 
 and of Cornwall in England. The said Earl 
 was a lay-pluralist of the first magnitude, 
 and had no fewer than seven hundred and 
 fifty manors bestowed upon him as his allot- 
 ment of the conquered kingdom. He granted 
 the lordship and soke of Doncaster with 
 many other possessions to Nigel de Fossard, 
 which Nigel is believed to have been the 
 Saxon noble who at the time of the conquest 
 held these same possessions under the crown. 
 
 The Fossard family ended in an heiress in 
 Cceur-de-Lion's reign; and the only daughter 
 of that heiress was given in marriage by 
 John Lackland to Peter de Malolieu or 
 Maulay, as a reward for his part in the 
 murder of Prince Arthur. Peter de Maulay 
 bore, as such a service richly deserved, an 
 ill name in the nation, being moreover a 
 favourite of King John's, and believed to be 
 one of his evil counsellors as well as of his 
 wicked instruments : but the name was in 
 good odour with his descendants, and was 
 borne accordingly by eight Peters in succes-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 93 
 
 sion. The eighth had no male issue ; he 
 left two daughters, and daughters are said 
 by Fuller to be " silent strings, sending no 
 sound to posterity, but losing their own sur- 
 names in their matches." Ralph Salvayne 
 or Salvin, a descendant of the younger co- 
 heiress, in the reign of James I., claimed the 
 Lordship of Doncaster ; and William his son 
 after a long suit with the Corporation, re- 
 signed his claim for a large sum of money. 
 
 The Burgesses had obtained their Charter 
 from Richard I., in the fifth year of his 
 reign, that king confirming to them their 
 Soke, and Town or Village of Danecastre, 
 to hold of him and his heirs, by the ancient 
 rent, and over and above that rent, by an 
 annual payment at the same time of twenty- 
 five marks of silver. For this grant the 
 Burgesses gave the king fifty marks of silver, 
 and were thereby entitled to hold their Soke 
 and Town " effectually and peaceably, freely 
 and quietly, fully and honourably, with all 
 the liberties and free customs to the same 
 appertaining, so that none hereupon might 
 them disturb." This charter, with all and 
 singular the things therein contained, was 
 ratified and confirmed by Richard II., to his 
 beloved the then Burgesses of the aforesaid 
 Town. 
 
 The Burgesses fearing that they might be 
 molested in the enjoyment of these their 
 liberties and free customs, through defect of 
 a declaration and specification of the same, 
 petitioned Edward IV., in the seventh year 
 of his reign, that he would graciously con- 
 descend those liberties and free customs, 
 under specifical declaration and express 
 terms, to them and their heirs and succes- 
 sors, incorporating them, and making them 
 persons fit and capable, with perpetual suc- 
 cession. Accordingly the king granted that 
 Doncaster should be a free borough, and 
 that the burgesses, tenants, resiants, and in- 
 habitants and their successors, should be free 
 burgesses and might have a Gild Merchant, 
 and continue to have the same liberties and 
 free customs, as they and their predecessors 
 had theretofore reasonably used and enjoyed. 
 And that they from thenceforth might be, in 
 reality and name, one body and one perpe- 
 
 tual community ; and every year choose out 
 of themselves one fit person to be the Mayor, 
 and two other fit persons for the Serjeants 
 at Mace, of the same town, within the same 
 town dwelling, to rule and govern the com- 
 munity aforesaid, for ever. And further of 
 his more abundant grace the king granted 
 that the cognizance of all manner of pleas 
 of debt, trespass, covenant, and all manner 
 of other causes and contracts whatsoever 
 within the same borough, should be holden 
 before the Mayor. He granted also to the 
 corporation the power of attachment for 
 debt, by their Serjeants at Mace ; and of his 
 abundant grace that the Mayor should hold 
 and exercise the office of Coroner also, 
 during his year ; and should be also a Justice 
 and Keeper of the King's peace within the 
 said borough. And he granted them of his 
 same abundant grace the right of having a 
 Fair at the said Borough every year upon 
 the vigil, and upon the feast, and upon the 
 morrow of the Annunciation of the Blessed 
 Virgin Alary, to be held, and for the same 
 three days to continue, with all liberties and 
 free customs to this sort of fair appertaining, 
 unless that fair should be to the detriment 
 of the neighbouring fairs. 
 
 There appear to onis Charter among others 
 as witnesses, the memorable names of " our 
 dearest brothers, George of Clarence, and 
 Richard of Gloucester, Dukes ; Richard 
 Wydeville deRyvers, our Treasurer of Eng- 
 land, Earl; and our beloved and faithful 
 William Hasty nges de Hasty nges, Chamber- 
 lain of our Household, and Anthony Wyde- 
 vile de Scales, Knights. The charter is 
 moreover decorated with the armorial bear- 
 ings of the Corporation, a Lion sejeant, 
 upon a cushion powdered ermine, holding in 
 his paws and legs a banner with the castle 
 thereon depicted, and this motto, Son Com- 
 fort et Liesse, his Comfort and Joy. 
 
 Henry VII. enlarged the charter, giving of 
 his special grace, to the Mayor and Commu- 
 nity all and singular the messuages, marshes, 
 lands, tenements, rents, reversions and ser- 
 vices, advowsons of churches, chantries and 
 chapels, possessions and all hereditaments 
 whatsoever within the Lordship and its de-
 
 94 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 pendencies, " with the court-leets, view-of- 
 frank-pledges-courts, waters, mills, entry 
 and discharge of waters, fairs, markets, tolls, 
 picages, stallages, pontages, passages, and all 
 and singular profits, commodities and emolu- 
 ments whatsoever within that lordship and 
 its precincts to the King, his heirs and suc- 
 cessors howsoever appertaining, or lately 
 belonging. And all and singular the issues, 
 revenues, and profits of the aforesaid courts, 
 view of frank pledge, waters, mills, fairs, 
 markets, tolls, picages, stallages, pontages, 
 passages, and the rest of the premises in what 
 manner so ever accruing or arising." For 
 this the Mayor and Community were to pay 
 into the Exchequer yearly in equal portions, 
 at the feasts of St. Michael the Archangel, 
 and Easter, without fee, or any other charge, 
 the sum of seventy and four pounds, thirteen 
 shillings eleven pence and a halfpenny. 
 Further of his more extensive grace, he 
 granted them to hold twice in every year a 
 leet or view of frank pledge ; and that they 
 might have the superintendency of the 
 assize of bread and ale, and other victuals 
 vendible whatsoever, and the correction and 
 punishment of the same, and all and what- 
 soever, which to a leet or view of frank 
 pledge appertaineth, or ought to appertain. 
 And that they might have all issues and 
 profits and perquisites, fines, penalties, re- 
 demptions, forfeitures, and amerciaments in 
 all and singular these kind of leets, or frank 
 pledge to be forfeited, or assessed, or im- 
 posed; and moreover wayf, strayf, infang- 
 thief, and outfang- thief ; and the goods and 
 chattels of all and singular felons, and the 
 goods of fugitives, convicts and attainted, 
 and the goods and chattels of outlaws and 
 waived ; and the wreck of sea when it should 
 happen, and goods and chattels whatsoever 
 confiscated within the manor, lordship, soke, 
 towns, villages, and the rest of the premises 
 of the precincts of the same, and of every of 
 them found, or to be found for ever." 
 
 In what way any wreck of sea could be 
 thrown upon any part of the Doncastrian 
 jurisdiction is a question which might have 
 occasioned a curious discussion between 
 Corporal Trim and his good master. How 
 
 it could happen I cannot comprehend, unless 
 " the fatal Welland," according to old saw, 
 
 which God forbid ! 
 
 Should drown all Holland with his excrement.* 
 
 Nor indeed do I see how it could happen 
 then, unless Humber should at the same 
 time drown all Lindsey, and the whole of 
 the Yorkshire plain, and Trent bear a part 
 also with all his thirty tributary streams, 
 and the plain land of all the midland coun- 
 ties be once more flooded, " as it was in the 
 days of Noah." But if the official person 
 who drew up this charter of Henry the 
 Seventh contemplated any such contingency, 
 he must have been a whimsical person ; and 
 moreover an unreasonable one not to have 
 considered that Doncaster itself must be de- 
 stroyed by such a catastrophe, and conse- 
 quently that its corporation even then could 
 derive no benefit from wreck at sea. 
 
 Further of his more abundant grace King 
 Henry granted to the Mayor and Community 
 that they might hold two markets in the 
 week for ever, to wit every Tuesday and 
 every Saturday ; and that they might hold 
 a second fair, which was to be upon the 
 vigil, and upon the day of St. James the 
 Apostle, and upon the morrow of the day 
 immediately following to continue : and that 
 they might choose a Recorder ; and hold a 
 weekly court in their Guild Hall, which 
 court should be a Court of Record: and 
 that the Recorder and three of the Aldermen 
 should be Justices as well as the Mayor, and 
 that they might have a gaol within the pre- 
 cincts of their town. 
 
 Henry VIII. confirmed this his father's 
 charter, and Elizabeth that her father's con- 
 firmation. In the next reign when the cor- 
 poration, after having " endured the charge 
 of many great and tedious suits," had com- 
 pounded with Ralph Salvin for what they 
 called his pretended title, they petitioned the 
 King that he would be pleased to accept 
 from them a surrender of their estates, to- 
 gether with an assurance of Salvin's title, 
 and then graciously assure and convey the
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 95 
 
 said manors and premises to them and their 
 successors, so to secure them against any 
 farther litigation. 
 
 This accordingly was done. In the fourth 
 year after the Restoration the Mayor, Alder- 
 men and Burgesses petitioned for a ratifica- 
 tion of their existing privileges and for an 
 enlargement of them, which Charles II. 
 granted, " the borough being an ancient and 
 populous borough, and he being desirous 
 that for the time to come, for ever, one cer- 
 tain and invariable method might be had of, 
 for, and in the preservation of our peace, 
 and in the rule and governance of the same 
 borough, and of our people in the same in- 
 habiting, and of others resorting thither; 
 and that that borough in succeeding times, 
 might be, and remain a borough of harmony 
 and peace, to the fear and terror of the 
 wicked, and for the support and reward of 
 the good." Wherefore he the King of his 
 special grace, certain knowledge and mere 
 motion, willed, granted, constituted, declared 
 and confirmed, and by his then presents did 
 will, grant, constitute, declare and confirm, 
 that Doncaster should be, and continue for 
 ever, a free borough itself; and that the 
 Mavor and community, or commonalty 
 thereof, should be one body corporate and 
 politic in reality, deed and name, by the 
 name of Mayor, Aldermen and Burgesses of 
 the borough of Doncaster in the County of 
 York, and by that name be capacitated and 
 enabled to plead, and to be impleaded, an- 
 swer and be answered ; defend and be de- 
 fended ; and to have, purchase, receive, 
 possess, give, grant and demise." 
 
 This body corporate and politic, which 
 was to have perpetual succession, was by 
 the Charter appointed to consist of one 
 Mayor, twelve Aldermen, and twenty-four 
 capital Burgesses, the Aldermen to be " of 
 the better and more excellent inhabitants 
 of the borough," and the capital Burgesses 
 of the better, more reputable and discreet, 
 and these latter were to be " for ever in 
 perpetual future times, the Common Council 
 of the borough." The three Estates of the 
 Borough as they may be called, in court or 
 convocation gathered together and assem- 
 
 bled, were invested with full authority, 
 power, and ability of granting, constituting, 
 ordaining, making, and rendering firm, from 
 time to time, such kind of laws, institutes, 
 bye-laws, ordinances, and constitutions, 
 which to them, or the greater part of them, 
 shall seem to be, according to their sound 
 understandings, good, salutary, profitable, 
 honest, or honourable, and necessary for the 
 good rule and governance of the Mayor, 
 Aldermen, and Burgesses, and of all and 
 singular, and other the inhabitants of the 
 borough aforesaid ; and of all the officers, 
 ministers, artificers, and resiants whatsoever 
 within the borough aforesaid, for the time 
 being ; and for the declaring in what manner 
 and form, the aforesaid Mayor, Aldermen, 
 and Burgesses, and all and singular other the 
 ministers, officers, artificers, inhabitants, and 
 resiants of the borough aforesaid, and their 
 factors or agents, servants and apprentices, in 
 their offices, callings, mysteries, artifices, and 
 businesses, within the borough aforesaid, 
 and the liberties of the same for the time 
 being, shall have, behave, and use themselves, 
 and otherwise for the more ultimate public 
 good, common utility and good regimen of 
 the borough aforesaid." And for the vic- 
 tualling of the borough, and for the better 
 preservation, governance, disposing, letting, 
 and demising of the lands, tenements, pos- 
 sessions, revenues, and hereditaments, vested 
 in their body corporate, they had power to 
 ordain and enforce such punishments, penal- 
 ties, inflictions, and imprisonments of the 
 body, or by fines and amerciaments, or by 
 both of them, against and upon all delin- 
 quents and offenders against these their 
 laws as might to them seem necessary, so ! 
 that nevertheless this kind of laws, ordi- 
 nances, institutions, and constitutions, be 
 not repugnant, nor contrary to the laws and 
 statutes of the kingdom. 
 
 Persons refusing to accept the office of 
 Mayor, Alderman, Capital Burgess, or any 
 other inferior office of the borough, except 
 the Recorders, might be committed to gaol, 
 till they consented to serve, or fined at the 
 discretion of the Corporation, and held fast 
 in their gaol till the fine was paid.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 This Charter also empowered the Corpora- 
 tion to keep a fair on the Saturday before 
 Easter, and thenceforth on every alternate 
 Saturday until the feast of St. Andrew, for 
 cattle, and to hold at such times a court of 
 pie-powder. 
 
 James II. confirmed the corporation in 
 all their rights and privileges, and by the 
 Charter of Charles II., thus confirmed, Don- 
 caster is governed at this day. 
 
 It was during the mayoralty of Thomas 
 Pheasant that Daniel Dove took up his 
 abode in Doncaster. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. P. I. 
 
 REMARKS ON THE ART OF VERBOSITY. A 
 RULE OF COCCEIUS, AND ITS APPLICATION 
 TO THE LANGUAGE AND PRACTICE OF THE 
 LAW. 
 
 If they which employ their labour and travail about the 
 public administration of justice, follow it only as a trade, 
 with unquenchable and unconscionable thirst of gain, 
 being not in heart persuaded that justice is God's own 
 work, and themselves his agents in this business, the 
 sentence of right, God's own verdict, and themselves his 
 priests to deliver it ; formalities of justice do but serve to 
 smother right, and that which was necessarily ordained 
 for the common good, is through shameful abuse made 
 the cause of common misery. HOOKER. 
 
 READER, thou mayest perhaps have thought 
 me at times disposed to be circumambagious 
 in my manner of narration. But now, 
 having cast thine eyes over the Doncaster 
 charters, even in the abridged form in which 
 I have considerately presented them, thou 
 knowest what a round-about style is when 
 amplified with all possible varieties of pro- 
 fessional tautology. 
 
 You may hear it exemplified to a certain 
 degree, in most sermons of the current 
 standard, whether composed by those who 
 inflict them upon their congregation, or 
 purchased ready made and warranted ortho- 
 dox as well as original. In a still greater 
 degree you may hear it in the extempore 
 prayers of any meeting-house, and in those 
 with which the so-called Evangelical Cler- 
 gymen of the. Establishment think proper 
 
 sometimes to prologize and epilogize their 
 grievous discourses. But in tautology the 
 Lawyers beat the Divines hollow. 
 
 Cocceius laid it down as a fundamental 
 rule of interpretation in theology, that the 
 words and phrases of scripture are to be 
 understood in every sense of which they are 
 susceptible ; that is, that they actually sig- 
 nify every thing that they can possibly sig- 
 nify. The Lawyers carry this rule farther 
 in their profession than the Leyden Pro- 
 fessor did in his : they deduce from words 
 not only every thing that they can possibly 
 signify, but sometimes a great deal more ; 
 and sometimes they make them bear a sig- 
 nification precisely opposite to what they 
 were intended to express. 
 
 That crafty politician who said the use of 
 language is to conceal our thoughts, did not 
 go farther in his theory, than the members 
 of the legal profession in their practice ; as 
 every deed which comes from their hands 
 may testify, and every Court of Law bears 
 record. You employ them to express your 
 meaning in a deed of conveyance, a marriage 
 settlement, or a will ; and they so smother 
 it with words, so envelope it with techni- 
 calities, so bury it beneath redundancies of 
 speech, that any meaning which is sought 
 for may be picked out, to the confusion of 
 that which you intended. Something at 
 length comes to be contested : you go to a 
 Court of Law to demand your right ; or you 
 are summoned into one to defend it. You 
 ask for justice, and you receive a nice dis- 
 tinction a forced construction, a verbal 
 criticism. By such means you are defeated 
 and plundered in a civil cause ; and in a 
 criminal one a slip of the pen in the indict- 
 ment brings off" the criminal scot free. As if 
 slips of the pen in such cases were always 
 accidental ! But because Judges are incor- 
 ruptible (as, blessed be God, they still are in 
 this most corrupt nation), and because Bar- 
 risters are not to be suspected of ever inten- 
 tionally betraying the cause which they are 
 fee'd to defend, it is taken for granted that 
 the same incorruptibility, and the same 
 principled integrity, or gentlemanly sense of 
 honour which sometimes is its substitute,
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 97 
 
 are to be found among all those persons 
 who pass their miserable lives in quill- 
 driving, day after day, from morning till 
 night, at a scrivener's desk, or in an attor- 
 ney's office ! 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. P. I. 
 
 REVENUE OF THE CORPORATION OF DON- 
 CASTER WELL APPLIED. 
 
 Play not for gain but sport : who plays for more 
 Than he can lose with pleasure, stakes his heart ; 
 Perhaps his wife's too, and whom she hath bore. 
 
 HERBERT. 
 
 WELL, gentle Reader, we have made our 
 way through the Charters, and seen that the 
 Borough of Doncaster is, as it may be called, 
 an imperium in imperio or regnum, or 
 rather, if there were such word, regnulum, 
 in regno (such a word there ought to be, 
 and very probably was, and most certainly 
 would be if the Latin were a living lan- 
 guage) a little kingdom in itself, modelled 
 not unhappily after the form of that greater 
 one whereof it is a part ; differing from it, 
 for reasons so evident that it would be a 
 mere waste of words and time to explain 
 them, in being an elective instead of an 
 hereditary monarchy, and also because the 
 monarchy is held only for a year, not for 
 life ; and differing in this respect likewise, 
 that its three estates are analogous to the 
 vulgar and mistaken notion of the English 
 constitution, not to what that constitution 
 is, as transmitted to us by our fathers. 
 
 We have seen that its Mayor (or Monarch), 
 its twelve Aldermen (or House of Lords), 
 all being of the better and more excellent 
 inhabitants, and its four-and-twenty capital 
 Burgesses (or House of Commons,) all of 
 the better, more reputable and discreet 
 Doncastrians, constitute one body corporate 
 and politic in reality, deed, and name, to the 
 fear and terror of the wicked, and for the 
 support and reward of the good ; and that 
 the municipal government has been thus 
 constituted expressly to the end that Don- 
 caster might remain for ever a borough of 
 
 harmony and peace : to the better effecting 
 of which most excellent intent, a circum- 
 stance which has already been adverted to, 
 contributes greatly, to wit, that Doncaster 
 sends no members to Parliament. 
 
 Great are the mysteries of Corporations ; 
 and great the good of them when they are 
 so constituted, and act upon such principles 
 as that of Doncaster. 
 
 There is an old Song which says 
 
 Oh London is a gallant town 
 
 A most renowned city ; 
 'Tis governed by the scarlet gown, 
 
 Indeed, the more's the pity. 
 
 The two latter verses could never l)e ap- 
 plied to Doncaster. In the middle of the 
 last century the revenues of the Corpora- 
 tion did not exceed 1500Z. a-year : at the 
 beginning of this they had increased to 
 nearly 6000Z., and this income was prin- 
 cipally expended, as it ought to be, for the 
 benefit of the Town. The public buildings 
 have been erected from these funds ; and 
 liberal donations made from them to the 
 Dispensary and other eleemosynary institu- 
 tions. There is no constable-assessment, 
 none for paving and lighting the street ; 
 these expenses are defrayed by the cor- 
 poration, and families are supplied with 
 river water chiefly at its expense. 
 
 Whether this body corporate should be 
 commended or condemned for encouraging 
 the horse-races, by building a grand stand 
 upon the course, and giving annually a 
 plate of the value of fifty pounds, to be run 
 for, and two sums of twenty guineas each 
 toward the stakes, is a question which will 
 be answered by every one according to his 
 estimate of right and wrong. Gentlemen 
 of the Turf will approve highly of their con- 
 duct, so will those Gentlemen whose charac- 
 teristics are either light fingers or black 
 legs. Put it to the vote in Doncaster, and 
 there will be few voices against them : take 
 the sense of the nation upon it by uni- 
 versal suffrage, and there would be a trium- 
 phant majority in their favour. 
 
 In this, and alas ! in too many other cases, 
 vox populi est vox diaboli. 
 
 A greater number of families are said to
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 meet each other at Doncaster races, than at 
 any other meeting of the same kind in 
 England. That such an assemblage con- 
 tributes greatly to the gaiety and prosperity 
 of the town itself, and of the country round 
 about, is not to be disputed. But horse 
 races excite evil desires, call forth evil pas- 
 sions, encourage evil propensities, lead the 
 innocent into temptation, and give oppor- 
 tunities to the wicked. And the good which 
 arises from such amusements, either as mere 
 amusement (which is in itself unequivo- 
 cally a good when altogether innocent), or 
 by circulating money in the neighbourhood, 
 
 or by tending to keep up an excellent 
 breed of horses, for purposes of direct 
 utility, these consequences are as dust in 
 the balance, when compared with the guilt 
 and misery that arise from gambling. 
 
 Lord Exeter and the Duke of Grafton 
 may, perhaps, be of a different opinion. So 
 should Mr. Gully, whom Pindar may seem 
 to have prophetically panegyrised as 
 
 'OAu/mnav/xav 
 
 "AvSfX, !Tu!- KglTCtt 
 
 Ev0>T.* 
 
 That gentleman, indeed, may, with great 
 propriety, congratulate himself upon his 
 knowledge of what is called the world, and 
 the ability with which he has turned it to 
 a good practical account. But Lord Bur- 
 leigh, methinks, would shake his head in 
 the ante-chamber of Heaven if he could read 
 there the following paragraph from a Sun- 
 day Newspaper. 
 
 " PLEASURES AND PROFITS OF THE TURF. 
 
 We stated in a former number that Lord 
 Exeter's turf-profits were, for the previous 
 season, 26,OOOZ., this was intended to include 
 bets. But we have now before us a correct 
 and consecutive account of the Duke of 
 Grafton's winnings, from 1811 to 1829 in- 
 clusive, taking in merely the value of the 
 stakes for which the horses ran, and which 
 amounts to no less a sum than 99,21 ll. Bs. 4d., 
 or somewhat more than 50001. per annum. 
 This, even giving in a good round sum for 
 training and outlay, will leave a sufficiently 
 
 Olymp. vii. 162. 
 
 pleasant balance in hand ; to say nothing of 
 the betting book, not often, we believe, 
 light in figures. His Grace's greatest win- 
 nings were in 1822 and 1825 : in the former 
 of these years they amounted to 11,3642. 5*. 
 in the latter, 12,668/. 16s. Sd" 
 
 It is to be hoped that the Duke has with 
 his crest and coronet his motto also upon 
 the covers of his racing and betting books, 
 and upon his prize plates and cups : 
 ET DECUS ET FRBTIUH KECTI. 
 
 Before we pass from the Race-ground, 
 let me repeat to the reader a wish of Horace 
 Walpole's that " some attempt were made 
 to ennoble our horse-races, by associating 
 better arts with the courses, as by con- 
 tributing for odes, the best of which should 
 be rewarded by medals. Our nobility," 
 says he, " would find their vanity gratified ; 
 for, as the pedigrees of their steeds would 
 soon grow tiresome, their own genealogies 
 would replace them, and, in the mean time, 
 poetry and medals would be improved. 
 Their lordships would have judgment 
 enough to know if the horse (which should 
 be the impression on one side) were not 
 well executed ; and, as I hold that there is 
 no being more difficult to draw well than a 
 horse, no bad artist could be employed. 
 Such a beginning would lead farther; and 
 the cup or plate for the prize might rise into 
 beautiful vases." 
 
 Pity that the hint has not been taken, and 
 an auxiliary sporting society formed for 
 promoting the education of Pindars and 
 Benvenuto Cellinis ! 
 
 INTERCHAPTER V. 
 
 WHEREIN THE AUTHOR MAKES KNOWN HIS 
 GOOD INTENTIONS TO ALL READERS, AND 
 OFFERS GOOD ADVICE TO SOME OF THEM. 
 
 I can write, and talk too, as soft as other men, with 
 submission to better judgements, and I leave it to you 
 Gentlemen. I am but one, and I always distrust myself. 
 I only hint my thoughts : You'll please to consider whether 
 you will not think that it may seem to ileserve your con- 
 sideration This is a taking way of speaking. But 
 much good may do them that use it ' ASGILL. 
 
 Reader, my compliments to you ! 
 
 This is a form of courtesy which the Turks
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 use in their compositions, and being so 
 courteous a form, I liave here adopted it. 
 Why not ? Turks though they are, we 
 learnt inoculation from them, and the use of 
 coffee; and hitherto we have taught them 
 nothing but the use of tobacco in return. 
 
 Reader, my compliments to you ! 
 
 Why is it that we hear no more of Gentle 
 Readers ? Is it that having become critical 
 in this age of Magazines and Reviews, they 
 have ceased to be gentle ? But all are not 
 critical ; 
 
 The baleful dregs 
 
 Of these late ages, that Circaean draught 
 Of servitude and folly, have not yet, 
 Yet have not so dishonour'd, so deform'd 
 The native judgement of the human soul.* 
 
 In thus applying these lines I mean the 
 servitude to which any rational man de- 
 grades his intellect, when he submits to 
 receive an opinion from the dictation of 
 another, upon a point whereon he is just as 
 capable of judging for himself; the intel- 
 lectual servitude of being told by Mr. A. B. 
 or C. whether he is to like a book or not, 
 or why he is to like it : and the folly of 
 supposing that the man who writes anony- 
 mously, is on that very account entitled to 
 more credit for judgment, erudition, and 
 integrity, than the author who comes for- 
 war in his own person, and stakes his 
 character upon what he advances. 
 
 All Readers, however, thank Heaven, 
 and what is left among us of that best and 
 rarest of all senses called Common Sense, 
 all Readers, however, are not critical. There 
 are still some who are willing to be pleased, 
 and thankful for being pleased ; and who do 
 not think it necessary that they should be 
 able to parse their pleasure, like a lesson, 
 and give a rule or a reason why they are 
 pleased, or why they ought not to be pleased. 
 There are still readers who have never read 
 an Essay upon Taste ; and if they take 
 my advice they never will ; for they can no 
 more improve their taste by so doing, than 
 they could improve their appetite or their 
 digestion by studying a cookery-book. 
 
 I have something to say to all classes of 
 
 Readers : and, therefore, having thus begun 
 to speak of one, with that class I will 
 proceed. It is to the youthful part of 
 my lectors (why not lectors as well as 
 auditors ?) it is virginibus puerisque that I 
 now address myself. Young Readers, you 
 whose hearts are open, whose understand- 
 ings are not yet hardened, and whose 
 feelings are neither exhausted nor encrusted 
 by the world, take from me a better rule 
 than any professors of criticism will teach 
 you ! 
 
 Would you know whether the tendency 
 of a book is good or evil, examine in what 
 state of mind you lay it down. Has it 
 induced you to suspect that what you have 
 been accustomed to think unlawful may 
 after all be innocent, and that that may be 
 harmless which you have hitherto been 
 taught to think dangerous ? Has it tended 
 to make you dissatisfied and impatient 
 under the control of others ; and disposed 
 you to relax in that self-government, with- 
 out which both the laws of God and man 
 tell us there can be no virtue and conse- 
 quently no happiness ? Has it attempted 
 to abate your admiration and reverence for 
 what is great and good, and to diminish in 
 you the love of your country and your fel- 
 low-creatures ? Has it addressed itself to 
 your pride, your vanity, your selfishness, or 
 any other of your evil propensities ? Has 
 it defiled the imagination with what is loath- 
 some, and shocked the heart with what is 
 monstrous ? Has it disturbed the sense of 
 right and wrong which the Creator has im- 
 planted in the human soul ? If so if you 
 are conscious of all or any of these effects, 
 or if, having escaped from all, you have 
 felt that such were the effects it was in- 
 tended to produce, throw the book in the 
 fire, whatever name it may bear in the title- 
 page ! Throw it in the fire, young man, 
 though it should have been the gift of a 
 friend! young lady, away with the whole 
 set, though it should be the prominent fur- 
 niture of a rosewood bookcase !
 
 100 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. P. I. 
 
 DONCASTER CHURCH. THE RECTORIAL TITHES 
 SECURED BY ARCHBISHOP SHARP FOR HIS 
 OWN FAMILY. 
 
 Say, ancient edifice, thyself with years 
 Grown grey, how long upon the hill has stood 
 Thy weather-braving tower, and silent mark'd 
 The human leaf in constant bud and fall ? 
 The generations of deciduous man, 
 How often hast thou seen them pass away ! 
 
 HURDIS. 
 
 THE ecclesiastical history of Doncaster is 
 not so much to the credit of all whom it 
 concerns, as the municipal. Nigel Fossard, 
 in the year 1100, granted the advowson of 
 its church to St. Mary's Abbey, York ; and 
 it was for rather more than two hundred 
 years a rectory of two rnedieties, served 
 by two resident rectors whom the Ab- 
 bey appointed. In 1303, Archbishop Cor- 
 bridge appropriated it to the abbey, and 
 ordained it a perpetual vicarage. Fifty 
 marks a year out of the profits of the rec- 
 tory were then allowed for the Vicar's sup- 
 port, and he held the house and garden 
 also which had formerly appertained to 
 one of the Rectors. When, upon the disso- 
 lution of the monasteries, it fell to the 
 crown, Henry VIII. gave it with other 
 monastic impropriations to Archbishop Hoi- 
 gate, as some compensation for the valu- 
 able manors which he made the see of York 
 alienate to himself. The church of Doncaster 
 gained nothing by this transfer. The rec- 
 tory was secured by Archbishop Sharp for 
 his own family. At the beginning of the 
 present century it was worth from 1000/. 
 to 12001. a year, while the Vicar had only 
 an annual income of 801. charged upon 
 that rectory, and 201. charged upon 'a cer- 
 tain estate. He had no tithes, no Easter 
 offerings, and no other glebe than the church- 
 yard, and an orchard attached to the vicar- 
 age : and he had to pay a curate to do the 
 duty at Loversall church. 
 
 There is one remarkable epitaph in this 
 church upon a monument of the altar form, 
 placed just behind the reading-desk. 
 
 How, how, who is here ? 
 I Robin of Doncaster, and Margaret my fere. 
 
 That I spent, that I had ; 
 
 That I gave, that I hnve ; 
 
 That I left, that I lost. A. D. 1579. 
 Quoth Robertas Byrkes who in this world did reign 
 Threescore years and seven, and yet lived not one. 
 
 Robin of Doncaster, as he is now familiarly 
 called by persons connected, or acquainted 
 with the church, is remembered only by 
 this record which he has left of himself : per- 
 haps the tomb was spared for the singularity 
 of the epitaph, when prouder monuments 
 in the same church were despoiled. He 
 seems to have been one who, thinking little 
 of any thing beyond the affairs of this world 
 till the last year of his pilgrimage, lived 
 during that year a new life. It may also be 
 inferred that his property was inherited by 
 persons to whom he was bound by no other 
 ties than those of cold affinity ; for if he 
 had felt any concern for their welfare, he 
 would not have considered those possessions 
 as lost which were left to them. 
 
 Perhaps a farther inference may be fai ly 
 drawn, that though the deceased had stood 
 in this uncomfortable relation to his heirs- 
 at-law, he was too just a man to set aside 
 the course of succession which the law ap- 
 pointed. They who think that in the testa- 
 mentary disposal of their property they have 
 a right to do whatever it is legally in their 
 power to do, may find themselves wofully 
 mistaken when they come to render their 
 account. Nothing but the weightiest moral 
 considerations can justify any one in depriv- 
 ing another of that which the law of the 
 land would otherwise in its due course have 
 assigned him. But rights of descent cease 
 to be held sacred in public opinion in pro- 
 portion as men consider themselves exempt 
 from all duty to their forefathers ; and that 
 is in proportion as principles become sophis- 
 ticated, and society more and more corrupt. 
 
 St. George's is the only church in Don- 
 caster, a town which in the year 1800 con- 
 tained 1246 houses, 5697 souls : twenty 
 years afterwards the houses had increased 
 to 1729, and the inhabitants to 8544. The 
 state having made no other provision for 
 the religious instruction of the townspeople
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 101 
 
 than one church, one vicar, and one curate 
 if the vicar, from other revenues than those 
 of his vicarage, can afford to keep one 
 the far greater part of the inhabitants are 
 left to be absenters by necessity, or dissent- 
 ers by choice. It was the boast of the 
 corporation in an address to Charles II. that 
 they had not "one factious seditious person" 
 in their town, " being all true sons of the 
 Church of England and loyal subjects ;" 
 and that " in the height of all the late 
 troubles and confusion (that is, during the 
 civil wars and the commonwealth, which 
 might more truly have been called the com- 
 mon-woe) they never had any conventicle 
 amongst them, the nurseries and seed plots 
 of sedition and rebellion." There are con- 
 venticles there now of every denomination. 
 And this has been occasioned by the great 
 sin of omission in the Government, and the 
 great sin of commission in that Prelate who 
 appropriated the property of the church to 
 his own family. 
 
 Hollis Pigot wasYicar when Daniel Dove 
 began to reside in Doncaster; and Mr. 
 Fawkes was his Curate. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. P. I. 
 
 ANTIQUITIES OF DONCASTER. THE 
 
 MATRES. SAXON FONT. THE CASTLE. THE 
 HALL CROSS. 
 
 Vieux monuments, 
 
 Las, peu a pen cendre vans devenez, 
 
 Fable du peuple et publiques rapines I 
 
 Et bien qu'au Temps pour un temps facent guerre 
 
 Les bastimens, si est ce que le Temps 
 
 (Euvres et noms finablement atterre. 
 
 JOACHIM DU BELLAY. 
 
 THE oldest monument in Doncaster is- a 
 Roman altar, which was discovered in the 
 year 1781, in digging a cellar six feet deep, 
 in St. Sepulchre's gate. An antiquary of 
 Ferrybridge congratulated the corporation 
 " on the great honour resulting therefrom." 
 Was it a great honour to Doncaster, 
 meaning by Doncaster its Mayor, its Alder- 
 men, its capital burgesses, and its whole 
 
 people, was it, I say, an honour, a great 
 honour to it, and these, and each and all of 
 these, that this altar should have been dis- 
 covered ? Did the corporation consider it 
 to be so ? Ought it to be so considered ? 
 Did they feel that pleasurable though fever- 
 ish excitement at the discovery which is felt 
 by the fortunate man at the moment when 
 his deserts have obtained their honourable 
 meed ? Richard Staveley was Mayor that 
 year : Was it an honour to him and his 
 mayoralty as it was to King Ferdinand of 
 Spain that, when he was King, Christopher 
 Columbus discovered the New World, or 
 to Queen Elizabeth, that Shakespeare flou- 
 rished under her reign ? Was he famous 
 for it, as old Mr. Bramton Gurdon of As- 
 sington in Suffolk was famous, about the 
 year 1627, for having three sons parliament 
 men ? If he was thus famous, did he "blush 
 to find it fame," or smile that it should be 
 accounted so ? What is fame ? what is 
 honour ? But I say no more. " He that hath 
 knowledge spareth his words ; and he that 
 shutteth his lips is esteemed a man of under- 
 standing." 
 
 It is a votive altar, dedicated to the Decs 
 Matres, with this inscription : 
 
 MATRIBTJS 
 
 M. NAN- 
 
 TONIUS. 
 
 OHBIOTAL. 
 VOTUM. SOLVIT. LTJBENS. MERITO. 
 
 and it is curious because it is only the third 
 altar dedicated to those Goddesses which 
 has yet been found: the other two were 
 also found in the North of England, one at 
 Binchester near Durham, the other at Rib- 
 chester in Lancashire. 
 
 Next in antiquity to this Roman altar, 
 is a Saxon font in the church ; its date, 
 which is now obliterated, is said to have 
 been A. D. 1061. 
 
 Not a wreck remains of any thing that 
 existed in Doncaster between the time when 
 Orbiotal erected his altar to the local God- 
 desses, and when the baptismal font was 
 made : nor the name of a single individual ; 
 nor memorial, nor tradition of a single event.
 
 1C2 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 There was a castle there, the dykes of 
 which might partly be seen in Leland's time, 
 and the foundation of part of the walls, 
 nothing more, so long even then had it been 
 demolished. In the area where it stood the 
 church was built, and Leland thought that 
 great part of the ruins of one building were 
 used for the foundations of the other, and for 
 filling up its walls. It is not known at what 
 time the church was founded. There was 
 formerly a stone built into its east end, with 
 the date of A. D. 1071 ; but this may more 
 probably have been originally placed in the 
 castle than the church. Different parts of 
 the building are of different ages, and the 
 beautiful tower is supposed to be of Henry 
 the Third's age. 
 
 The Hall Cross, as it is now called, bore 
 this inscription : 
 
 ICEST : EST : LACRUICE : OTE : D : TUXI : A : 
 KI : AL.ME : DEU : EN : FACE : MERCI : AM : 
 
 There can be little doubt that this Otto de 
 Tilli is the same person whose name appears 
 as a witness to several grants about the 
 middle of the twelfth century, and who was 
 Seneschal to the Earl of Conisborough. It 
 stood uninjured till the Great Rebellion, when 
 the Earl of Manchester's army, on their way 
 from the South to the siege of York in the 
 year 1644, chose to do the Lord service by de- 
 facing it. " And the said Earl of Manches- 
 ter's men, endeavouring to pull the whole 
 shank down, got a smith's forge-hammer 
 and broke off the four corner crosses ; and 
 then fastened ropes to the middle cross, 
 which was stronger and higher, thinking by 
 that to pull the whole shank down. But a 
 stone breaking off, and falling upon one of 
 the men's legs, which was nearest it, and 
 breaking his leg, they troubled themselves 
 no more about it." This account, with a 
 drawing of the cross in its former state, was 
 in Fairfax's collection of antiquities, and 
 came afterwards into Thoresby's possession. 
 The Antiquarian Society published an en- 
 graving of it by that excellent and upright 
 artist Vertue, of whom it is recorded that 
 he never would engrave a fictitious portrait. 
 The pillar was composed of five columns, 
 
 a large one in the middle, and four smaller 
 ones around it, answering pretty nearly to 
 the cardinal points : each column was sur- 
 mounted by a cross, that in the middle being 
 the highest and proportionally large. There 
 were numeral figures on the south face, near 
 the top, which seem to have been intended 
 for a dial ; the circumference of the pillar 
 was eleven feet seven, the height eighteen 
 feet. 
 
 William Paterson, in the year of his 
 mayoralty, 1678, "beautified it with four 
 dials, ball and fane :" in 1792, when Henry 
 Heaton was Mayor, it was taken down, 
 because of its decayed state, and a new one 
 of the same form was erected by the road- 
 side, a furlong to the south of its former 
 site, on Hop-cross hill. This was better 
 than destroying the cross ; and as either 
 renovation or demolition had become neces- 
 sary, the Corporation are to be commended 
 for what they did. But it is no longer the 
 same cross, nor on the same site which had 
 once been consecrated, and where many a 
 passing prayer had been breathed in sim- 
 plicity and sincerity of heart. 
 
 What signifies the change? Both place 
 and monument had long been desecrated. 
 As little religious feeling was excited by it 
 as would have been by the altar to the Decs 
 Matres if it had stood there. And of the 
 hundreds of travellers who daily pass it, in 
 or outside of stage coaches, in their own 
 carriages, on horseback, or on foot ; and of 
 the thousands who flock thither during the 
 races ; and of the inhabitants of Doncaster 
 itself, not a single soul cares whether it be 
 the original cross or not, nor where it was 
 originally erected, nor when, nor wherefore, 
 nor by whom ! 
 
 " I wish I did not !" said Dr. Dove, when 
 some one advanced this consideration with 
 the intent of reconciling him to the change. 
 " I am an old man," said he, " and in age we 
 dislike all change as naturally, and therefore, 
 no doubt, as fitly, as in youth we desire it. 
 The youthful generation, in their ardour for 
 improvement and their love of novelty, strive 
 to demolish what ought religiously to be pre- 
 served ; the elders, in their caution and their
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 103 
 
 fear, endeavour to uphold what has become 
 useless, and even injurious. Thus, in the 
 order of Providence, we have both the ne- 
 cessary impulse and the needful check. 
 
 " But I miss the old cross from its old 
 place. More than fifty years had I known 
 it there ; and if fifty years' acquaintance did 
 not give us some regard even for stocks and 
 stones, we must be stocks and stones our- 
 selves." 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. P. I. 
 
 HISTORICAL CIRCUMSTANCES CONNECTED WITH 
 DONCASTER. THOMAS, EARL OF LANCASTER. 
 EDWARD IV. ASKE'S INSURRECTION. ILLUS- 
 TRIOUS VISITORS. JAMES I. BARNABEE. 
 CHARLES I. CHURCH LIBRARY. 
 
 They unto whom we shall appear tedious, are in no 
 wise injured by us, because it is in their own hands to 
 spare that labour which they are not willing to endure. 
 
 HOOKER. 
 
 NOTHING more than the scanty notices 
 which have already been mentioned is re- 
 corded concerning the history of Doncaster, 
 till King John ordered it "to be enclosed 
 with hertstone and pale, according as the 
 ditch required ; and that a light brecost or 
 barbican should be made upon the bridge, 
 to defend the town if need should be." The 
 bridge was then of wood ; in the following 
 reign the townsmen " gave aid to make a 
 stone bridge there :" in that reign a hospital 
 for sick and leprous people was built there, 
 the priories of St. James and St. Nicholas 
 founded, a Dominican convent, and a Fran- 
 ciscan one. Henry III. slept there on his 
 way to York. In the 23d year of Edward I. 
 the borough was first summoned to send 
 members to Parliament, from which burthen, 
 as it was then considered, it was relieved in 
 the ensuing year. 
 
 In 1321, Thomas Earl of Lancaster held a 
 council here with other discontented Barons 
 against Edward II. ; in its results it brought 
 many of them to an untimely death, and 
 Lancaster himself suffered by the axe at 
 Porufret, as much in revenge for Gaveston, 
 
 as for this rebellion. " In this sort," says an 
 old chronicler, " came the mighty Earl of 
 Lancaster to his end, being the greatest 
 Peer in this realm, and one of the mightiest 
 Earls in Christendom : for when he began 
 to levy war against the King, he was pos- 
 sessed of five earldoms, Lancaster, Lincoln, 
 Salisbury, Leicester, and Derby, beside 
 other seigniories, lands, and possessions, 
 great to his advancement in honour and 
 puissance. But all this was limited within 
 prescription of time, which being expired 
 both honour and puissances were cut off 
 with dishonour and death ; for (O miserable 
 state !) 
 
 Invidafatorttm series, summisque negatum 
 Stare din. 
 
 " But now touching the foresaid Earl of Lan- 
 caster, great strife rose afterwards amongst 
 the people, whether he ought to be reputed 
 for a saint, or no. Some held that he ought 
 to be no less esteemed, for that he did many 
 alms-deeds in his lifetime, honoured men of 
 religion, and maintained a true quarrel till 
 his life's end. Also his enemies continued 
 not long after, but came to evil ends. 
 Others conceived another opinion of him, 
 alleging that he favoured not his wife, but 
 lived in spouse-breach, defiling a great num- 
 ber of damsels and gentlewomen. If any 
 offended him, he slew him shortly after in 
 his wrathful mood. Apostates and other 
 evil doers he maintained, and would not 
 suffer them to be punished by due order of 
 law. All his doings he used to commit to 
 one of his secretaries, and took no heed him- 
 self thereof; and as for the manner of his 
 death, he fled shamefully in the fight, and 
 was taken and put to death against his will ; 
 yet by reason of certain miracles which were 
 said to be done near the place both where he 
 suffered and where he was buried, caused 
 many to think he was a Saint. Howbeit, at 
 length by the King's commandment, the 
 church doors of the Priory where he was 
 buried were shut and closed, so that no man 
 might l>e suffered to come to the tomb to 
 bring any offerings, or to do any other kind 
 of devotion to the same. Also the hill 
 where he suffered was kept by certain
 
 104 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Gascoigners appointed by the Lord Hugh 
 Spenser his son, then lying at Pomfret, to 
 the end that no people should come and 
 make their prayers there in worship of the 
 said Earl, whom they took verily for a 
 martyr." 
 
 The next confederacy at Doncaster was 
 more successful, though it led eventually to 
 bloodier consequences. Bolingbroke, after 
 landing at Ravensburg, was met here by 
 Northumberland, Hotspur, Westmorland, 
 and others, who engaged with him there, 
 some of them probably not knowing how 
 far his ambitious views extended, and who 
 afterwards became the victims of their own 
 turbulent policy. The Dragon's teeth which 
 were then sown produced a plentiful harvest 
 threescore years afterwards, when more than 
 six-and-thirty thousand Englishmen fell by 
 each other's hands at Towton, between this 
 town and York. Edward IV. beheaded 
 Sir Robert Willis and Sir Ralph Grey here, 
 whom he had taken in the rout of Lose-coat 
 field ; and when he mustered his people here 
 to march against Warwick and Clarence, 
 whose intentions began then to be dis- 
 covered, " it was said that never was seen in 
 England so many goodly men and so well 
 arranged in a field." Afterwards he passed 
 through Doncaster when he returned from 
 exile, on the way to his crowning victory at 
 Barnet. 
 
 Richard III. also passed through this place 
 on the way to York, where he was crowned. 
 In Henry VIH.'s reign it became the actual 
 seat of war, and a battle would have been 
 fought there, if the Don had not, by its 
 sudden rising, twice prevented Aske and his 
 army of insurgents from attacking the Duke 
 of Norfolk, with so superior a force that 
 success would have been almost certain, 
 and the triumph of the popish party a pro- 
 bable result. Here Norfolk, profiting by 
 that delay, treated with the insurgents, and 
 finally, by offering them a free pardon, and 
 engaging that a free Parliament should be 
 held in the North, induced them to disperse. 
 
 In 1538 John Grigge, the Mayor, lost a 
 thumb in an affray at Marshgate, and next 
 year the Prior of Doncaster was hanged for 
 
 treason. In 1551 the town was visited by 
 the plague : in that of 1582, 908 persons 
 died here. 
 
 The next noticeable circumstance in the 
 annals of Doncaster is, that James I. lodged 
 there, at the sign of the Sun and Bear, on 
 his way from Scotland to take possession of 
 the Crown of England. 
 
 The maypole in the market-place was 
 taken down in 1634, and the market cross 
 erected there in its place. But the removal 
 of the maypole seems to have been no proof 
 of any improved state of morals in the town ; 
 for Barnabee, the illustrious potator, saw 
 there the most unbecoming sight that he 
 inet with in all his travels. On his second 
 visit the frail Levite was dead ; and I will 
 not pick out a name from the succession of 
 Vicars which might suit the time of the 
 poem, because, though Doncaster was the 
 scene, it does not follow that the Vicar was 
 the actor ; and whoever he may have been, 
 his name can be no object of legitimate 
 curiosity, though Barnabee's justly was, till 
 it was with so much ingenuity determined 
 by Mr. Haslewood. 
 
 When the army which had been raised 
 against the Scots was disbanded, Charles I. 
 dined there at the house of Lady Carlingford, 
 and a pear tree, which he is said to have 
 planted, is now standing there in Mr. Maw's 
 garden. Charles was there again in 1644, 
 and attended service in the church. And 
 from a house in the butter market it was 
 that Morris with two companions attempted 
 to carry off the parliamentary commander 
 Rainsborough at noon-day, and failing in 
 the attempt, killed him upon the spot. 
 
 A Church Library was founded here by 
 the contributions of the clergy and gentry of 
 the surrounding country in 1726. A cham- 
 ber over the church porch was appropriated 
 for the books, with the Archbishop's licence ; 
 and there was one curate of this town whose 
 love of reading was so great, that he not 
 only passed his days in this library, but had 
 a bed fixed there, and spent his nights there 
 also. 
 
 In 1731 all the streets were new paved, 
 and the sign-posts taken down ; and in 1739,
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 105 
 
 Daniel Dove, in remembrance of whom these 
 volumes are composed, came to reside in 
 Doncaster. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. P. I. 
 
 CONCERNING THE WOKTHIES, OB GOOD MEN, 
 WHO WERE NATIVES OF DONCASTER OR 
 OTHERWISE CONNECTED WITH THAT TOWN. 
 
 V ir bonus est quis f 
 
 TERENCE. 
 
 LET good old Fuller answer the well-known 
 question which is conveyed in the motto to 
 this chapter. " And here," he says, " be it 
 remembered, that the same epithet in several 
 places accepts sundry interpretations. He is 
 called a Good Man in common discourse, 
 who is not dignified with gentility ; a Good 
 Man upon the Exchange, who hath a re- 
 sponsible estate ; a Good Man in a Camp, 
 who is a tall man of his arms ; a Good Man 
 in the Church, who is pious and devout in 
 his conversation. Thus, whatever is fixed 
 therein in other relations, that person is a 
 Good Man in history, whose character 
 affords such matter as may please the palate 
 of an ingenuous reader." 
 
 Two other significations may be added 
 which Fuller has not pretermitted, because 
 he could not include them, they being rela- 
 tively to him, of posthumous birth. A Good 
 Man upon State trials, or in certain Com- 
 mittees which it might not be discreet to 
 designate, is one who will give his verdict 
 without any regard to his oath in the first 
 case or to the evidence in both. And in 
 the language of the Pugilists it signifies one 
 who can bear a great deal of beating : Hal 
 Pierce, the Game Chicken and unrivalled 
 glory of the ring, pronounced this eulogium 
 upon Mr. Gully, the present honourable 
 member for Pontefract, when he was asked 
 for a candid opinion of his professional 
 merits : " Sir, he was the very Best Man 
 as ever I had." 
 
 Among the Good Men, in Fuller's accept- 
 ation of the term, who have been in any 
 
 way connected with Doncaster, the first in 
 renown as well as in point of time, is Robin 
 Hood. Many men talk of him who never 
 shot in his bow ; but many think of him 
 when they drink at his Well, which is at 
 Skelbroke by the way-side, about six miles 
 from Doncaster on the York road. There 
 is a small inn near with Robin Hood for its 
 sign. This country has produced no other 
 hero whose popularity has endured so long. 
 The Duke of Marlborough, the Duke of 
 Cumberland, and the Marquis of Granby have 
 flourished upon sign-posts, and have faded 
 there ; so have their compeers Prince Eu- 
 gene and Prince Ferdinand. Rodney and 
 Nelson are fading ; and the time is not far 
 distant when Wellington also will have had 
 his day. But while England shall be Eng- 
 land, Robin Hood will be a popular name.* 
 
 Near Robin Hood's Well, and nearer to 
 Doncaster, the Hermit of Harnpole resided, 
 at the place from which he was so called, 
 " where living he was honoured, and dead 
 was buried and sainted." Richard Role, 
 however, for that was his name, was no 
 otherwise sainted than by common opinion 
 in those parts. He died in 1349, and is 
 the oldest of our known Poets. His writings, 
 both in verse and prose, which are of con- 
 siderable extent, ought to be published at 
 the expense of some national institution. 
 
 In the next generation John Marse, who 
 was born in a neighbouring village of that 
 name, flourished in the Carmelite Convent 
 at Doncaster, and obtained great celebrity in 
 his time for writing against a far greater 
 than himself John Wickliffe. 
 
 It is believed that Sir Martin Frobisher 
 was born at Doncaster, and that his father 
 was Mayor of that place. " I note this the 
 rather," says Fuller, " because learned Mr. 
 Carpenter, in his Geography, recounts him 
 among the famous men of Devonshire ; but 
 why should Devonshire, which hath a flock 
 of Worthies of her own, take a lamb from 
 another country." This brave seaman, when 
 he left his property to a kinsman who was 
 
 * " And there they live like the old KOBIN HOOD OP 
 ENGLAND." As You LIKE IT.
 
 106 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 very likely to dissipate it, said, " it was 
 gotten at sea, and would never thrive long 
 at land." 
 
 Lord Molesworth having purchased the 
 estate at Edlington, four miles from Don- 
 caster, formerly the property of Sir Edward 
 Stanhope, resided there occasionally in the 
 old mansion, during the latter part of his 
 life. His Account of Denmark is a book 
 which may always be read with profit. 
 The Danish Ambassador complained of it to 
 King William, and hinted that if one of his 
 Danish Majesty's subjects had taken such 
 liberties with the King of England, his 
 master would, upon complaint, have taken 
 off the author's head. " That I cannot do," 
 replied William ; " but if you please I will 
 tell him what you say, and he shall put it 
 into the next edition of his book." 
 
 Other remarkable persons who were con- 
 nected with Doncaster, and were contem- 
 poraries with Dr. Dove, will be noticed in 
 due time. Here I shall only mention two 
 who have distinguished themselves since his 
 day (alas ! ) and since I took my leave of 
 a place endeared to me by so many recollec- 
 tions. Mr. Bingley, well known for his 
 popular works upon Natural History, and 
 Mr. Henry Lister Maw, the adventurous 
 naval officer who was the first Englishman 
 that ever came down the great river Ama- 
 zons, are both natives of this town. I 
 know not whether the Doncaster Maws are 
 of Hibernian descent; but the name of 
 M'Coghlan is in Ireland beautified and ab- 
 breviated into Maw ; the M'Coghlan, or 
 head of the family, was called the Maw; and 
 a district of King's County was known 
 within the memory of persons now living by 
 the appellation of the Maw's County. 
 
 For myself, I am behind a veil which is 
 not to be withdrawn : nevertheless I may 
 say, without consideration of myself, that 
 in Doncaster both because of the principal 
 scene and of the subject of this work 
 
 HONOS EBIT HTIIC QUOQUE TOMO. 
 
 INTERCHAPTER VI. 
 
 CONTINGENT CAUSES. PERSONAL CONSIDERA- 
 TIONS INDUCED BY REFLECTING ON THEM. 
 THE AUTHOR TREMBLES FOR THE PAST. 
 
 Vereis qtte no fay laxada desatida 
 
 De nudo y de pendencia sober ana ; 
 Ni a poder trastornar la orden del cielo 
 
 Lasfuerzas Uegan, ni el taber del suelo. 
 
 BALBUENA. 
 
 " THERE is no action of man in this life," 
 says Thomas of Malmesbury, " which is not 
 the beginning of so long a chain of conse- 
 quences, as that no human providence is 
 high enough to give us a prospect to the 
 end." The chain of causes, however, is as 
 long as the chain of consequences, perad- 
 venture longer ; and when I think of the 
 causes which have combined to procreate 
 this book, and the consequences which of 
 necessity it must produce, I am lost in ad- 
 miration. 
 
 How many accidents might for ever have 
 impossibilitated the existence of this incom- 
 parable work ! If, for instance, I the Un- 
 known had been born in any other part of 
 the world than in the British dominions ; or 
 in any other age than one so near the time 
 in which the venerable subject of these me- 
 moirs flourished; or in any other place 
 than where these localities could have been 
 learned, and all these personalities were re- 
 membered ; or if I had not counted it among 
 my felicities like the philosopher of old, and 
 the Polish Jews of this day, (who thank 
 God for it in their ritual), to have been 
 born a male instead of a female ; or if I had 
 been born too poor to obtain the blessings 
 of education, or too rich to profit by them : 
 or if I had not been born at all. If, indeed, 
 in the course of six thousand years which 
 have elapsed since the present race of intel- 
 lectual inhabitants were placed upon this 
 terraqueous globe, any chance had broken 
 off one marriage among my innumerable 
 married progenitors, or thwarted the court- 
 ship of those my equally innumerable ances- 
 tors who lived before that ceremony was 
 instituted, or in countries where it was not
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 107 
 
 known, where, or how would my immortal 
 part have existed at this time, or in what 
 shape would these bodily elements have 
 been compounded with which it is invested ? 
 A single miscarriage among my millions of 
 grandmothers might have cut off the entail 
 of my mortal being ! 
 
 Quid non evert it primordia frivola vitts f 
 
 Nee mirum, vita est Integra pene nihiL 
 Jfunc peril, ah ! tenui pereunlis odore lucerrue, 
 
 Elfumum htinc fumus forlior illefugat. 
 Totum aquilis Ciesar rapidis circumvolet orbem, 
 
 Collfgamque sibi viz feral esse Jovem. 
 Quantula res quantus potuisset inepta iriumphos. 
 
 El magnum nasci vel prohibere Deum ! 
 Ezlueredasset inoriente lucemula flammd 
 
 Tot dominis mundum numinibusque ncvit. 
 Tu quoque tantilli, juvenis PeUtee, peruses, 
 
 (Ilium gratus terris illefuisset odor .') 
 Tu tanturn unius qui pauper regulus orbis, 
 
 Et prope privatus visut es esse tibi. 
 ffec tu tanluni, idem potuisset tollere casus 
 
 Teque, Jovis fili, Bucephalumque tuum : 
 Dormitwque urbem male delevisset agaso 
 
 Bucephalam r tiestris, Indica Fata, libris.* 
 
 The snuff of a candle, a fall, a fright, 
 nay, even a fit of anger ! Such things are 
 happening daily, yea, hourly, upon this 
 peopled earth. One such mishap among so 
 many millions of cases, millions ten million 
 times told, centillions multiplied beyond the 
 vocabulary of numeration, and ascending 
 to ifsafipaicoffia, which word having been 
 coined by a certain Alexis (perhaps no 
 otherwise remembered) and latinised are- 
 naginta by Erasmus, is now Anglicised 
 sandillions by me; one such among them 
 all ! I tremble to think of it ! 
 
 Again. How often has it depended upon 
 political events ! If the Moors had defeated 
 Charles Martel ; if William instead of 
 Harold had fallen in the Battle of Hastings; 
 if bloody Queen Mary had left a child ; or 
 if blessed Queen Mary had not married the 
 Prince of Orange! In the first case the 
 English might now have been Musselmen ; 
 in the second they would have continued to 
 use the Saxon tongue, and in either of those 
 cases the Ego could not have existed ; for if 
 Arabian blood were put in, or Norman 
 taken out, the whole chain of succession 
 would have been altered. The two latter 
 
 * COWLBY. 
 
 cases, perhaps, might not have affected the 
 bodily existence of the Ego ; but the first 
 might have entailed upon him the curse of 
 Popery, and the second, if it had not sub- 
 jected him to the same curse, would have 
 made him the subject of a despotic govern- 
 ment. In neither case could he have been 
 capable of excogitating lucubrations, such 
 as this high history contains : for either of 
 these misfortunes would have emasculated 
 his mind, unipsefying and unegofying the 
 Ipsissimus Ego. 
 
 Another chance must be mentioned. One 
 of my ancestors was, as the phrase is, out in 
 a certain rebellion. His heart led him into 
 the field and his heels got him out of it. 
 Had he been less nimble, or had he been 
 taken and hanged, and hanged he would 
 have been if taken, there would have been 
 no Ego at this day, no history of Dr. Daniel 
 Dove. The Doctor would have been like 
 the heroes who lived before Agamemnon, 
 and his immortaliser would never have lived 
 at all. 
 
 CHAPTER XL VI. P. L 
 
 DANIEL DOVE'S ARBIVAL AT DONCASTEE. THE 
 ORGAN IN SAINT GEOBGE's CHUKCH. THE 
 PTJJLPIT. MBS. NEALE'S BENEFACTION. 
 
 yon ulia Musis pagtna gratior 
 Quant qvtc sever it ludicra jungere 
 ffovit, fatigatamque nugis 
 Utilibus recreare mentem. 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 IT was in the Mayoralty of Thomas Phea- 
 sant (as has already been said) and in the 
 year of our Lord 1739, that Daniel Dove 
 the younger, having then entered upon his 
 seventeenth year, first entered the town of 
 Doncaster, and was there delivered by his 
 excellent father to the care of Peter Hop- 
 kins. They loved each other so dearly, 
 that this, which was the first day of their 
 separation, was to both the unhappiest of 
 their lives. 
 
 The great frost commenced in the winter 
 of that year; and with the many longing
 
 108 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 lingering thoughts which Daniel cast to- 
 wards his home, a wish was mingled that he 
 could see the frozen waterfall in Weather- 
 cote Cave. 
 
 It was a remarkable era in Doncaster also, 
 because the Organ was that year erected, at 
 the cost of five hundred guineas, raised by 
 voluntary subscription among the parish- 
 ioners. Harris and Byfield were the builders, 
 and it is still esteemed one of the best in the 
 kingdom. When it was opened, the then 
 curate, Mr. Fawkes, preached a sermon for 
 the occasion, in which, after having rheto- 
 rised in praise of sacred music, and touched 
 upon the cornet, flute, harp, sackbut, psaltery, 
 dulcimer and all kinds of instruments, he 
 turned to the organ and apostrophised it 
 thus ; " But O what O what what 
 shall I call thee by? thou divine Box of 
 sounds ! " 
 
 That right old worthy Francis Quarles of 
 quaint memory, and the more to be re- 
 membered for his quaintness, knew how 
 to improve an organ somewhat better than 
 Mr. Fawkes. His poem upon one is the 
 first in his Divine Fancies, and whether he 
 would have it ranked among Epigrams, 
 Meditations, or Observations, perhaps he 
 could not himself tell. The Reader may 
 class it as he pleases. 
 
 Observe this Orgaiy mark but how it goes 1 
 'Tis not the hand alone of him that blows 
 The unseen bellows, nor the hand that plays 
 Upon the apparent note-dividing keys, 
 That makes these well-composed airs appear 
 Before the high tribunal of thine ear. 
 They both concur ; each acts his several part ; 
 Th* one gives it breath, the other lends it art. 
 Man is this Organ ; to whose every action 
 Heaven gives a breath, (a breath without coaction,) 
 Without which blast we cannot act at all ; 
 Without which Breath the Universe must fall 
 To the first nothing it was made of seeing 
 In Him we live, we move, we have our being. 
 Thus filled with His diviner breath, and back't 
 With His first power, we touch the keys and act : 
 lie blows the bellows : as we thrive in skill, 
 Our actions prove, like music, good or ill. 
 
 The question whether instrumental music 
 may lawfully be introduced into the worship 
 of God in the Churches of the New Testa- 
 ment, has been considered by Cotton Mather 
 and answered to his own satisfaction and 
 
 that of his contemporary countrymen and 
 their fellow puritans, in his " Historical 
 Remarks upon the discipline practised in 
 the Churches of New England." "The 
 Instrumental Music used in the old Church 
 of Israel," he says, " was an Institution of 
 God ; it was the Commandment of the Lord 
 by the Prophets ; and the Instruments are 
 called God's Instruments, and Instruments 
 of the Lord. Now there is not one word of 
 Institution in the New Testament for In- 
 strumental Music in the Worship of God. 
 And because the holy God rejects all he 
 does not command in his worship, he now 
 therefore in effect says to us, / will not hear 
 the melody of thy Organs. But, on the 
 other hand, the rule given doth abundantly 
 intimate that no voice is now heard in tho 
 Church but what is significant, and edifying 
 by signification; which the voice of Instru- 
 ments is not." 
 
 Worse logic than this and weaker reason- 
 ing no one would wish to meet with in the 
 controversial writings of a writer from whose 
 opinions he differs most widely. The Re- 
 marks form part of that extraordinary and 
 highly interesting work the Magnolia Chrisli 
 Americana. Cotton Mather is such an author 
 as Fuller would have been if the old English 
 Worthy, instead of having been from a child 
 trained up in the way he should go, had been 
 calvinisticated till the milk of human kind- 
 ness with which his heart was always ready 
 to overflow had turned sour. 
 
 " Though Instrumental Music," he pro- 
 ceeds to say, " were admitted and appointed 
 in the worship of God under the Old Testa- 
 ment, yet we do not find it practised in the 
 Synagogue of the Jews, but only in the 
 Temple. It thence appears to have been a 
 part of the ceremonial Pedagogy which is 
 now abolished; nor can any say it was a 
 part of moral worship. And whereas the 
 common usage now hath confined Instru- 
 mental Music to Cathedrals, it seems therein 
 too much to Judaise, which to do is a part 
 of the Anti-Christian Apostacy, as well as 
 to Paganise. If we admit Instrumental 
 Music in the worship of God, how can 
 we resist the imposition of all the instru-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 109 
 
 ments used among the ancient Jews? Yea, 
 Dancing as well as playing, and several 
 other Judaic actions?" 
 
 During the short but active reign of the 
 Puritans in England, they acted upon this 
 preposterous opinion, and sold the Church 
 organs, without being scrupulous concerning 
 the uses to which they might be applied. 
 A writer of that age, speaking of the pre- 
 valence of drunkenness, as a national vice, 
 says, " that nothing may be wanting to the 
 height of luxury and impiety of this abo- 
 mination, they have translated the organs 
 out of the Churches to set them up in 
 taverns, chaunting their dithyrambics and 
 bestial bacchanalias to the tune of those 
 instruments which were wont to assist them 
 in the celebration of God's praises, and 
 regulate the voices of the worst singers in 
 the world, which are the English in their 
 churches at present." 
 
 It cannot be supposed that the Organs 
 which were thus disposed of, were instru- 
 ments of any great cost or value. An old 
 pair of Organs, (for that was the customary 
 mode of expression, meaning a set, and in 
 like manner a pair of cards, for a pack ; ) 
 an old pair of this kind belonging to Lam- 
 beth Church was sold in 1565 for 11. 10s. 
 Church Organs, therefore, even if they had 
 not been at a revolutionary price, would be 
 within the purchase of an ordinary vintner. 
 " In country parish Churches," says Mr. 
 Denne the Antiquary, "even where the 
 district was small, there was often a choir of 
 singers, for whom forms, desks and books 
 were provided ; and they probably most of 
 them had benefactors who supplied them 
 with a pair of organs that might more pro- 
 perly have been termed a box of whistles. 
 To the best of my recollection there were in 
 the chapels of some of the Colleges in Cam- 
 bridge very, very, indifferent instruments. 
 That of the chapel belonging to our old 
 house was removed before I was admitted." 
 
 The use of the organ has occasioned a 
 great commotion, if not a schism, among the 
 methodists of late. Yet our holy Herbert 
 could call Church music the " sweetest of 
 sweets ;" and describe himself when listen- 
 
 ing to it, as disengaged from the body, and 
 " rising and falling with its wings." 
 
 Harris, the chief builder of the Doncaster 
 Organ, was a contemporary and rival of 
 Father Smith, famous among Organists. 
 Each built one for the Temple Church, and 
 Father Smith's had most votes in its 
 favour.* The peculiarity of the Doncaster 
 Organ, which was Harris's masterpiece, is, 
 its having, in the great organ, two trumpets 
 and a clarion, throughout the whole com- 
 pass ; and these stops are so excellent, that 
 a celebrated musician said every pipe in 
 them was worth its weight in silver. 
 
 Our Doctor dated from that year, in his 
 own recollections, as the great era of his life. 
 It served also for many of the Doncastrians, 
 as a date to which they carried back their 
 computations, till the generation which re- 
 membered the erecting of the organ was 
 extinct. 
 
 This was the age of Church improvement 
 in Doncaster, meaning here by Church, 
 the material structure. Just thirty years 
 before, the Church had been beautified and 
 the ceiling painted, too probably to the 
 disfigurement of works of a better architec- 
 tural age. In 1721 the old peal of five bells 
 was replaced with eight new ones, of new 
 metal, heretofore spoken of. In 1723 the 
 church floor and church-yard, which had 
 both been unlevelled by Death's levelling 
 course, were levelled anew, and new rails 
 were placed to the altar. Two years later 
 the Corporation gave the new Clock, and it 
 was fixed to strike on the watch bell, that 
 clock which numbered the hours of Daniel 
 Dove's life from the age of seventeen till 
 that of seventy. In 1736 the west gallery 
 was put up, and in 1741, ten years after the 
 organ, a new pulpit, but not in the old 
 style ; for pulpits, which are among the finest 
 works of art in Brabant and Flanders, had 
 degenerated in England, and in other pro- 
 testant countries. 
 
 * See Lord Campbell's Lives of the Chancellors, vol. 
 iii. p. 591. He states that Judge Jeffreys decided in 
 favour of Smith's, and that Harris's went to Wolver- 
 hampton. I have often heard it there, and he who played 
 on it had Music in his soul. If I recollect aright, his name- 
 was Rudge.
 
 110 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 This probably was owing, in our own 
 country, as much to the prevalence of puri- 
 tanism, as to the general depravation of taste. 
 It was for their beauty or their splendour 
 that the early Quakers inveighed with such 
 vehemence against pulpits, " many of which 
 places," saith George Keith in his quaking 
 days, "as we see in England and many 
 other countries, have a great deal of super- 
 fluity, and vain and superfluous labour and 
 pains of carving, painting and varnishing 
 upon them, together with your cloth and 
 velvet cushion in many places ; because of 
 which, and not for the height of them above 
 the ground, we call them Chief Places. But 
 as for a commodious place above the ground 
 whereon to stand when one doth speak in 
 an assembly, it was never condemned by our 
 friends, who also have places whereupon to 
 stand, when to minister, as they had under 
 the Law." * 
 
 In 1743 a marble Communion Table was 
 placed in the Church, and (passing forward 
 more rapidly than the regular march of this 
 narration, in order to present these ecclesi- 
 astical matters without interruption,) a 
 set of chimes were fixed in 1754 merry be 
 the memory of those by whom this good 
 work was effected ! The north and south 
 galleries were re-built in 1765 ; and in 1767 
 the church was white-washed, a new reading- 
 desk put up, the pulpit removed to what 
 was deemed a more convenient station, and 
 Mrs. Neale gave a velvet embroidered cover 
 and cushion for it, for which her name 
 is enrolled among the benefactors of St. 
 George's Church. 
 
 That velvet which, when I remember it, 
 had lost the bloom of its complexion, will 
 hardly have been preserved till now even by 
 the dyer's renovating aid : and its em- 
 broidery has long since passed through the 
 goldsmith's crucible. Sic transit excites a 
 
 * " By his order, the Reading- Pew and Pulpit " (of the 
 Church of Lay Ion Ecclesia in the County of Huntingdon) 
 "were a little distant from each other, and both of an 
 equal height, for he would often say, They should neither 
 have a precedency or priority of the other; but that Prayer 
 and Preaching, being equally useful, might agree lite 
 brethren, and have an equal honour and estimation." 
 
 ISAAC WALTON'S LIFE OP MB. GEORGE HERBERT. 
 
 more melancholy feeling in me when a 
 recollection like this arises in my mind, than 
 even the "forlorn hicjacet" of a neglected 
 tombstone. Indeed such is the softening 
 effect of time upon those who have not been 
 rendered obdurate and insensible by the 
 world and the world's law, that I do not now 
 call to mind without some emotion even that 
 pulpit, to which I certainly bore no good 
 will in early life, when it was my fortune to 
 hear from it so many somniferous discourses; 
 and to bear away from it, upon pain of dis- 
 pleasure in those whose displeasure to me 
 was painful, so many texts, chapter and 
 verse, few or none of which had been im- 
 proved to my advantage. " Public ser- 
 mons" (hear! hear! for Martin Luther 
 speaketh !) " public sermons do very little 
 edify children, who observe and learn but 
 little thereby. It is more needful that they 
 be taught and well instructed with diligence 
 in schools ; and at home that they be orderly 
 heard and examined in what they have 
 learned. This way profiteth much; it is 
 indeed very wearisome, but it is very neces- 
 sary." May I not then confess that no turn 
 of expression however felicitous no col- 
 location of words however emphatic and 
 beautiful no other sentences whatsoever, 
 although rounded, or pointed for effect with 
 the most consummate skill, have ever given 
 me so much delight, as those dear phrases 
 which are employed in winding up a ser- 
 mon, when it is brought to its long-wished- 
 for close. 
 
 It is not always, nor necessarily thus ; 
 nor ever would be so if these things were 
 ordered as they might and ought to be. 
 Hugh Latimer, Bishop Taylor, Robert 
 South, John Wesley, Robert. Hall, Bishop 
 Jebb, Bishop Heber, Christopher Benson, 
 your hearers felt no such tedium! when 
 you reached that period it was to them like 
 the cessation of a strain of music, which 
 while it lasted had rendered them insensible 
 to the lapse of time. 
 
 " I would not," said Luther, " have 
 preachers torment their hearers and detain 
 them with long and tedious preaching."
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Ill 
 
 CHAPTER XLYH. 
 
 DONCASTRIANA. GDl's DEATH. SEARCH FOB 
 HIS TOMBSTONE IN INGLETON CHCKCH- 
 YABD. 
 
 Go to the dull church-yard, and see 
 Those hillocks of mortality, 
 Where proudest man is only found 
 By a small hillock in the ground. 
 
 TIXALL POETRY. 
 
 THE first years of Daniel's abode in Don- 
 caster were distinguished by many events 
 of local memorability. The old Friar's 
 bridge was taken down, and a new one 
 with one large arch built in its stead. 
 Turnpikes were erected on the roads to 
 Saltsbrook and to Tadcaster; and in 1742 
 Lord Seinple's regiment of Highlanders 
 marched through the town, being the first 
 soldiers without breeches who had ever 
 been seen there since breeches were in use. 
 In 1746 the Mansion House was begun, 
 next door to Peter Hopkins's, and by no 
 means to his comfort while the work was 
 going on, nor indeed after it was completed, 
 its effect upon his chimneys having hereto- 
 fore been noticed. The building was inter- 
 rupted by the rebellion. An army of six 
 thousand English and Hessians was then 
 encamped upon Wheatley Hills ; and a 
 Hessian general dying there, was buried in 
 St. George's Church ; from whence his 
 leaden coffin was stolen by the grave- 
 digger. 
 
 Daniel had then completed his twenty- 
 second year. Every summer he paid a 
 month's visit to his parents ; and those were 
 happy days, not the less so to all parties 
 because his second home had become almost 
 as dear to him as his first. Guy did not 
 live to see the progress of his pupil ; he died 
 a few months after the lad had been placed 
 at Doncaster, and the delight of Daniel's 
 first return was overclouded by this loss. It 
 was a severe one to the elder Daniel, who 
 lost in the Schoolmaster his only intellectual 
 companion. 
 
 I have sought in vain for Richard Guy's 
 tombstone in Ingleton church-yard.* That 
 
 * " Grave-stones tell truth scarce forty years." 
 
 SIB T. BROWNE'S HYDRIATAPHIA. 
 
 there is one there can hardly, I think, be 
 doubted ; for if he left no relations who 
 regarded him, nor perhaps effects enough of 
 his own to defray this last posthumous and 
 not necessary expense ; and if Thomas Gent 
 of York, who published the old poem of 
 Flodden Field from his transcript, after his 
 death, thought he required no other monu- 
 ment ; Daniel was not likely to omit this 
 last tribute of respect and affection to his 
 friend. But the church-yard, which, when 
 his mortal remains were deposited there, 
 accorded well with its romantic site, on a 
 little eminence above the roaring torrent, 
 and with the then retired character of the 
 village, and with the solemn use to which it 
 was consecrated, is now a thickly-peopled 
 burial-ground. Since their time, manufac- 
 tures have been established in Ingleton, and 
 though eventually they proved unsuccessful, 
 and were consequently abandoned, yet they 
 continued long enough in work largely to 
 increase the population of the church-yard. 
 Amid so many tombs the stone which 
 marked poor Guy's resting-place might 
 escape even a more diligent search than 
 mine. Nearly a century has elapsed since 
 it was set up : in the course of that time its 
 inscription not having been re-touched, must 
 have become illegible to all but an antiquary's 
 poring and practised eyes ; and perhaps to 
 them also unless aided by his tracing tact, 
 and by the conjectural supply of connecting 
 words, syllables, or letters ; indeed, the 
 stone itself has probably become half in- 
 terred, as the earth around it has been 
 disturbed and raised. Time corrodes our 
 epitaphs, and buries our very tombstones. 
 
 Returning pensively from my unsuccessful 
 search in the church-yard, to the little inn at 
 Ingleton, I found there, upon a sampler, 
 worked in 1824 by Elizabeth Brown, aged 9, 
 and framed as an ornament for the room 
 which I occupied, some lines in as moral a 
 strain of verse as any which I had that day 
 perused among the tombs. And I tran- 
 scribed them for preservation, thinking it 
 not improbable that they had been originally 
 composed by Richard Guy, for the use of 
 his female scholars, and handed down for a
 
 112 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 like purpose, from one generation to an- 
 other. This may be only a fond imagina- 
 tion, and perhaps it might not have occurred 
 to me at another time ; but many compo- 
 sitions have been ascribed in modern as well 
 us ancient times, and indeed daily are so, to 
 more celebrated persons, upon less likely 
 grounds. These are the verses : 
 
 Jesus permit thy gracious name to stand 
 As the first effort of an infant's hand ; 
 And as her fingers on the sampler move, 
 Engage her tender heart to seek thy love ; 
 With thy dear children may she have a part, 
 And write thy name thyself upon her heart. 
 
 CHAPTER XL VIII. 
 
 A FATHER'S MISGIVINGS CONCERNING HIS 
 SON'S DESTINATION. PETER HOPKINS's 
 GENEROSITY. DANIEL IS SENT ABROAD 
 TO GRADUATE IN MEDICINE. 
 
 Heaven is the magazine wherein He puts 
 Both good and evil ; Prayer's the key that shuts 
 And opens this great treasure : 'tis a key 
 Whose wards are Faith and Hope and Charity. 
 Wouldst thou prevent a judgment due to sin ? 
 Turn but the key, and thou may'st lock it in. 
 Or wouldst thou have a blessing fall upon thee ? 
 Open the door, and it will shower on thee ! 
 
 QUARLES. 
 
 THE elder Daniel saw in the marked im- 
 provement of his son at every yearly visit 
 more and more cause to be satisfied with 
 himself for having given him such a desti- 
 nation, and to thank Providence that the 
 youth was placed with a master whose kind- 
 ness and religious care of him might truly 
 be called fatherly. There was but one con- 
 sideration which sometimes interfered with 
 that satisfaction, and brought with it a sense 
 of uneasiness. The Doves, from time imme- 
 morial, had belonged to the soil as fixedly as 
 the soil had belonged to them. Generation 
 after generation they had moved in the same 
 contracted sphere, their wants and wishes 
 being circumscribed alike within their own 
 few hereditary acres. Pride, under what 
 ever form it may show itself, is of the Devil; 
 and though Family Pride may not be its 
 most odious manifestation, even that child 
 
 bears a sufficiently ugly likeness of its 
 father. But Family Feeling is a very dif- 
 ferent thing, and may exist as strongly in 
 humble as in high life. Naboth was as 
 much attached to the vineyard, the inheri- 
 tance of his fathers, as Ahab could be to 
 the throne which had been the prize, and 
 the reward, or punishment, of his father 
 Omri's ambition. 
 
 This feeling sometimes induced a doubt 
 in Daniel whether affection for his son had 
 not made him overlook his duty to his fore- 
 fathers ; whether the fixtures of the land 
 are not happier, and less in the way of evil, 
 than the moveables : whether he had done 
 right in removing the lad from that station 
 of life in which he was born, in which it had 
 pleased God to place him ; divorcing him, 
 as it were, from his paternal soil, and cut- 
 ting off the entail of that sure independence, 
 that safe contentment, which his ancestors 
 had obtained and preserved for him, and 
 transmitted to his care to be in like manner 
 by him preserved and handed down. The 
 latent poetry which there was in the old 
 man's heart made him sometimes feel as if 
 the fields and the brook, and the hearth and 
 the graves, reproached him for having done 
 this ! But then he took shelter in the re- 
 flection that he had consulted the boy's true 
 welfare, by giving him opportunities of stor- 
 ing and enlarging his mind ; that he had 
 placed him in the way of intellectual ad- 
 vancement, where he might improve the 
 talents which were committed to his charge, 
 both for his own benefit and for that of 
 his fellow-creatures. Certain he was that 
 whether he had acted wisely or not, he had 
 meant well. He was conscious that his 
 determination had not been made without 
 much and anxious deliberation, nor without 
 much and earnest prayer ; hitherto, he saw, 
 that the blessing which he prayed for had 
 followed it, and he endeavoured to make his 
 heart rest in thankful and pious hope that 
 that blessing would be continued. "Wouldst 
 thou know," says Quarles, " the lawfulness 
 of the action which thou desirest to under- 
 take, let thy devotion recommend it to 
 divine blessing. If it be lawful tl-.ou shalt
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 113 
 
 perceive thy heart encouraged by thy. 
 prayer ; if unlawful, thou shalt find thy 
 prayer discouraged by thy heart. That 
 action is not warrantable which either 
 blushes to beg a blessing, or, having suc- 
 ceeded, dares not present a thanksgiving." 
 Daniel might safely put his conduct to this 
 test ; and to this test, in fact, his own 
 healthy and uncorrupted sense of religion 
 led him, though probably he had never read 
 these golden words of Quarles the Em- 
 bleruist. 
 
 It was, therefore, with no ordinary de- 
 light that our good Daniel received a letter 
 from his son, asking permission to go to 
 Ley den, in conformity with his Master's 
 wishes, and there prosecute his studies long 
 enough to graduate as a Doctor in medi- 
 cine. Mr. Hopkins, he said, would gene- 
 rously take upon himself the whole expense, 
 having adopted him as his successor, and 
 almost as a son ; for as such he was treated 
 in all respects, both by him and by his mis- 
 tress, who was one of the best of women. 
 And, indeed, it appeared that Mr. Hopkins 
 had long entertained this intention, by the 
 care which he had taken to make him keep 
 up and improve the knowledge of Latin 
 which he had acquired under Mr. Guy. 
 
 The father's consent, as might be sup- 
 posed, was thankfully given ; and accord- 
 ingly Daniel Dove, in the twenty-third 
 year of his age, embarked from Kingston- 
 upon-Hull for Rotterdam, well provided by 
 the care and kindness of his benevolent 
 master with letters of introduction and of 
 credit ; and still better provided with those 
 religious principles which, though they can- 
 not ensure prosperity in this world, ensure 
 to us things of infinitely greater moment, 
 good conduct, peace of mind, and the ever- 
 lasting reward of the righteous. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 CONCERNING THE INTEREST WHICH DANIEL 
 THE ELDER TOOK IN THE DUTCH WAR, 
 AND MORE ESPECIALLY IN THE SIEGE AND 
 PROVIDENTIAL DELIVERY OF LEYDEN. 
 
 Glory to Thee in thine omnipotence, 
 
 O Lord who art our shield and our defence, 
 
 And dost dispense, 
 
 As spemeth best to thine unerring will, 
 
 (Which passe 1 h mortal sense) 
 
 The lot of Victory still ; 
 
 Edging sometimes with might the sword unjust ; 
 
 And bowing to the dust 
 
 The rightful cause, that so such seeming ill 
 
 May thine appointed purposes fulfil ; 
 
 Sometimes, as in this late auspicious hour 
 
 For which our hymns we raise, 
 
 Making the wicked feel thy present power ; 
 
 Glory to thee and praise, 
 
 Almighty God, by whom our strength was given ! 
 
 Glory to Thee, O Lord of Earth and Heaven I 
 
 SOUTHEY. 
 
 THERE were two portions of history with 
 which the elder Daniel was better acquainted 
 than most men, that of Edward the Third's 
 reign, and that of the Wars in the Nether- 
 lands down to the year 1608. Upon both 
 subjects he was homo unius libri ; such a 
 man is proverbially formidable at his own 
 weapon ; and the book with which Johnson 
 immortalised Osborne the bookseller, by 
 knocking him down with it, was not a more 
 formidable folio than either of those from 
 which Daniel derived this knowledge. 
 
 Now of all the events in the wars of the 
 Low Countries, there was none which had 
 so strongly affected his imagination as the 
 siege of Leyden. The patient fortitude of 
 the besieged, and their deliverance, less by 
 the exertions of man, (though no human 
 exertions were omitted,) than by the special 
 mercy of Him whom the elements obey, and 
 in whom they had put their trust, were in 
 the strong and pious mind of Daniel, things 
 of more touching interest than the tragedy 
 of Haarlem, or the wonders of military 
 science and of courage displayed at the 
 siege of Antwerp. Who indeed could forget 
 the fierce answer of the Leydeners when 
 they were, for the last time, summoned to 
 surrender, that the men of Leyden would 
 never surrender while they had one arm left
 
 114 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 to eat, and another to fight with ! And the 
 not less terrible reply of the Burgemeester 
 Pieter Adriaanzoon Vander Werf, to some 
 of the townsmen when they represented to 
 him the extremity of famine to which they 
 were reduced ; " I have sworn to defend 
 this city," he made answer, " and by God's 
 help I mean to keep that oath ! but if my 
 death can help ye men, here is my body ! 
 cut it in pieces, and share it among ye as far 
 as it will go." And who without partaking 
 in the hopes and fears of the contest, almost 
 as if it were still, at issue, can peruse the 
 details of that amphibious battle (if such an 
 expression may be allowed) upon the inun- 
 dated country, whep, in the extremity of 
 their distress, and at a time when the Spa- 
 niards said that it was as impossible for the 
 Hollanders to save Leyden from their power, 
 as it was for them to pluck the stars from 
 heaven, " a great south wind, which they 
 might truly say came from the grace of 
 God," set in with such a spring tide, that in 
 the course of eight-and-forty hours, the 
 inundation rose half a foot, thus rendering 
 the fields just passable for the flat-bottomed 
 boats which had been provided for that 
 service ! A naval battle, among the trees ; 
 where the besieged, though it was fought 
 within two miles of their walls, could see 
 nothing because of the foliage ; and amid 
 such a labyrinth of dykes, ditches, rivers 
 and fortifications, that when the besiegers 
 retired from their palisades and sconces, the 
 conquerors were not aware of their own 
 success, nor the besieged of their deliver- 
 ance! 
 
 " In this delivery," says the historian, 
 " and in every particular of the enterprise, 
 doubtless all must be attributed to the mere 
 providence of God, neither can man chal- 
 lenge any glory therein ; for without a 
 miracle all the endeavours of the Protestants 
 had been as wind. But God who is always 
 good, would not give way to the cruelties 
 wherewith the Spaniards threatened this 
 town, with all the insolencies whereof they 
 make profession in the taking of towns 
 (although they be by composition) without 
 any respect of humanity or honesty. And 
 
 there is not any man but will confess with 
 me, if he be not some atheist, or epicure, 
 (who maintain that all things come by 
 chance,) that this delivery is a work which 
 belongs only unto God. For if the Spa- 
 niards had battered the town but with four 
 cannons only, they had carried it, the people 
 being so weakened with famine, as they 
 could not endure any longer : besides a 
 part of them were ill affected, and very 
 many of their best men were dead of the 
 plague. And for another testimony that it 
 was God only who wrought, the town was 
 no sooner delivered, but the wind which was 
 south-west, and had driven the water out of 
 the sea into the country, turned to north- 
 east, and did drive it back again into the 
 sea, as if the south-west wind had blown 
 those three days only to that effect ; where- 
 fore they might well say that both the winds 
 and the sea had fought for the town of 
 Leyden. And as for the resolution of the 
 States of Holland to drown the country, and 
 to do that which they and their Prince, 
 together with all the commanders, captains 
 and soldiers of the army shewed in this sea- 
 course, together with the constancy and 
 resolution of the besieged to defend them- 
 selves, notwithstanding so many miseries 
 which they suffered, and so many promises 
 and threats which were made unto them, 
 all in like sort proceeded from a divine 
 instinct." 
 
 In the spirit of thoughtful feeling that 
 this passage breathes, was the whole history 
 of that tremendous struggle perused by the 
 elder Daniel; and Daniel the son was so 
 deeply imbued with the same feeling, that if 
 he had lived till the time of the Peninsular 
 War, he would have looked upon the condi- 
 tion to which Spain was reduced, as a con- 
 sequence of its former tyranny, and as an 
 awful proof how surely, soon or late, the 
 sins of the fathers are visited upon the 
 children. 
 
 Oh that all history were regarded in this 
 spirit ! " Even such as are in faith most 
 strong, of zeal most ardent, should not," 
 says one of the best and wisest of Theolo- 
 gians, " much mispend their time in com-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 115 
 
 paring the degenerate fictions, or historical 
 relations of times ancient or modern, with 
 the everlasting truth. For though this 
 method could not add much increase either 
 to their faith or zeal, yet would it doubt- 
 less much avail for working placid and mild 
 affections. The very penmen of Sacred 
 Writ themselves were taught patience, and 
 instructed in the ways of God's providence, 
 by their experience of such events as the 
 course of time is never barren of; not 
 always related by canonical authors, nor 
 immediately testified by the Spirit; but 
 ofttimes believed upon a moral certainty, or 
 such a resolution of circumstances con- 
 current into the first cause or disposer of all 
 affairs as we might make of modern acci- 
 dents, were we otherwise partakers of the 
 Spirit, or would we mind heavenly matters 
 as much as earthly." 
 
 CHAPTER L. P. I. 
 
 VOYAGE TO ROTTERDAM AND LEYDEN. THE 
 AUTHOR CANNOT TARRY TO DESCRIBE 
 THAT CITY. WHAT HAPPENED THERE TO 
 DANIEL DOVE. 
 
 He took great content, exceeding delight in that his 
 voyage. As who doth not that shall attempt the like ? 
 For peregrination charms our senses with such unspeak- 
 able and sweet variety, that some count him unhappy that 
 never travelled, a kind of prisoner, and pity his case that 
 from his cradle to his old age he beholds the same still ; 
 still, still, the same, the same ! BURTON. 
 
 "WHY did Dan remain in ships?" says 
 Deborah the Prophetess in that noble song, 
 which, if it had been composed in Greek 
 instead of Hebrew, would have made Pindar 
 hide his diminished head, or taught him a 
 loftier strain than even he has reached in 
 
 I his eagle nights "Why did Dan remain 
 in ships?" said the Prophetess. Our Daniel 
 during his rough passage from the Humber 
 to the Maese, thought that nothing should 
 
 l make him do so. Yet when all danger, real 
 or imaginary, was over, upon that deep 
 
 Where Proteus' herds and Neptune's ores do keep, 
 Where all is ploughed, yet still the pasture's green. 
 The ways are found, and yet no paths are seen : " 
 
 B. JONSON : Neptune's Triumph. 
 
 when all the discomforts and positive suffer- 
 ings of the voyage were at an end ; and 
 when the ship. 
 
 Quitting her fairly of the injurious seat, 
 
 had entered the smooth waters of that 
 stately river, and was gliding 
 
 Into the bosom of her quiet quay f ; 
 
 he felt that the delight of setting foot on 
 shore after a sea voyage, and that too the 
 shore of a foreign country, for the first time, 
 is one of the few pleasures which exceed 
 any expectation that can be formed of them. 
 
 He used to speak of his landing, on a fine 
 autumnal noon, in the well-wooded and 
 well-watered city of Rotterdam, and of his 
 journey along what he called the high- 
 turnpike canal from thence to Leyden, as 
 some of the pleasantest recollections of his 
 life. Nothing, he said, was wanting to his 
 enjoyment, but that there should have been 
 some one to have partaken it with him in an 
 equal degree. But the feeling that he was 
 alone in a foreign land sate lightly on him, and 
 did not continue long, young as he was, 
 with life and hope before him, healthful of 
 body and of mind, cheerful as the natural 
 consequence of that health corporeal and 
 mental, and having always much to notice 
 and enough to do the one being an indis- 
 pensable condition of happiness, the other a 
 source of pleasure as long as it lasts ; and 
 where there is a quick eye and an inquiring 
 mind, the longest residence abroad is hardly 
 long enough to exhaust it. 
 
 No day in Daniel's life had ever passed 
 in such constant and pleasurable excitement 
 as that on which he made his passage from 
 Rotterdam to Leyden, and took possession 
 of the lodgings which Peter Hopkins's cor- 
 respondent had engaged for him. His recep- 
 tion was such as instantly to make him feel 
 that he was placed with worthy people. 
 The little apprehensions, rather than anxie- 
 ties, which the novelty of his situation occa- 
 sioned, the sight of strange faces with which 
 he was to be domesticated, and the sound 
 of a strange language, to which, harsh and 
 uninviting as it seemed, his ear and speech 
 
 t QUARI.KS.
 
 116 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 must learii to accustom themselves, did not 
 disquiet his first night's rest. And having 
 fallen asleep, notwithstanding the new posi- 
 tion to which a Dutch bolster constrained 
 him, he was not disturbed by the storks, 
 
 all night 
 Beating the air with their obstreperous beiks, 
 
 (for with Ben Jonson's leave, this may much 
 more appropriately be said of them than of 
 the ravens), nor by the watchmen's rappers, 
 or clap-sticks, which seem to have been in- 
 vented in emulous imitation of the stork's 
 instrumental performance. 
 
 But you and I, Reader, can afford to make 
 no tarriance in Leyden. I cannot remain 
 with you here till you could see the Rector 
 Magnificus in his magnificence. I cannot 
 accompany you to the monument of that 
 rash Baron who set the crown of Bohemia 
 in evil hour upon the Elector Palatine's 
 unlucky head. I cannot take you to the 
 graves of Boerhaave and of Scaliger. I can- 
 not go with you into that library of which 
 Heinsius said, when he was Librarian there, 
 " I no sooner set foot in it and fasten the 
 door, but I shut out ambition, love, and all 
 those vices of which idleness is the mother 
 and ignorance the nurse ; and in the very 
 lap of Eternity, among so many illustrious 
 souls, I take my seat, with so lofty a spirit 
 that I then pity the great who know nothing 
 of such happiness." Plerunriue in qua si- 
 mulac pedem posui, furibus pessulum cibdo, 
 unibitionem autem, amorem, libidinem, Sfc. ex- 
 cludo, quorum parens est ignavia, imperitia 
 iiutrix ; et in ipso ceterrdtatis gremio, inter 
 tot illustre<i animas sedem mihi sumo, cum 
 ingenti quidem animo, ut subinde magnatum 
 me misereat qui felicitatem hanc ignorant ! 
 I cannot walk with you round the ramparts, 
 from which wide-circling and well-shaded 
 promenade you might look down upon a 
 large part of the more than two thousand 
 gardens which a century ago surrounded 
 this most horticultural city of a horticul- 
 tural province, the garden, as it was called, 
 of Holland, that is of the land of Gardeners. 
 I cannot even go up the Burgt with you, 
 though it be pretended that the Hengist of 
 Anglo-Saxon history erected it ; nor can I 
 
 stop at the entrance of that odd place, for 
 you to admire (as you could not but admire) 
 the Lion of the United Provinces, wb> 
 stands there erect and rampant in menacing 
 attitude, grinning horribly a ghastly smile, 
 his eyes truculent, his tail in full elevation, 
 and in action correspondent to his motto 
 Pugno pro Patria, wielding a drawn sword 
 in his. dreadful right paw. 
 
 Dear Reader, we cannot afford time for 
 going to Oegstgeest, though the first Church 
 in Holland is said to have been founded there 
 by St. Willebord, and its burial-ground is 
 the Campo Santo of the Dutch Roman 
 Catholics, as Bunhill Fields of the English 
 Dissenters. Nor can I accompany thee to 
 Xoortwyck and describe to thee its fish- 
 ponds, its parterres, the arabesque carpet- 
 work of its box, and the espalier walls or 
 hedges, with the busts which were set in the 
 archways, such as they existed when our 
 Doctor, in his antedoctorial age, was a stu- 
 dent at Leyden, having been kept up till 
 that time in their old fashion by the repre- 
 sentatives of Janus Dousa. We cannot, 
 dear Reader, tarry to visit the gardens in 
 that same pleasant village from which the 
 neighbouring cities are supplied with medi- 
 cinal plants ; where beds of ranunculuses 
 afford, when in blossom, a spectacle which 
 no exhibition of art could rival in splen- 
 dour and in beauty ; and from whence rose 
 leaves are exported to Turkey, there to have 
 their essential oil extracted for Mahometan 
 luxury. 
 
 We must not go to see the sluices of the 
 Rhine, which Daniel never saw, because in 
 his time the Rhine had no outlet through 
 these Downs. We cannot walk upon the 
 shore at Katwyck, where it was formerly a 
 piece of Dutch courtship for the wooer to 
 take his mistress in his arms, carry her into 
 the sea till he was more than knee deep, set 
 her down upon her feet, and then bearing 
 her out again, roll her over and over upon 
 the sand-hills by way of drying her. We 
 have no time for visiting that scene of the 
 Batavian Arcadia. No, reader, I cannot 
 tarry to show thee the curiosities of Leyden, 
 nor to talk over its memorabilia, nor to visit
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 the pleasant parts of the surrounding country : 
 though Gerard Goris says, that comme la 
 Ville de Leide, entouree par les plaisants 
 villages de Soeterwoude, Stompvic, Wilsveen, 
 Tedingerbroek, Oegstgeest, Leiderdorp et 
 Vennep, est la Centre et la Delice de toute 
 Hollande, ainsi la Campagne d Tentour de 
 cette celebre Ville est comme un autre Eden 
 ou Jardin de plaisance, qui avec ses beaux 
 attraits tellement transporte I 'attention du 
 spectateur qiiil se trouve contraint, comme 
 par un ravissment d'esprit, de confesser quil 
 ii'a jamais veu pais au monde, ou Vart et la 
 nature si bien ont pris leurs mesures pour 
 aporter et entremeler tout ce qui peut servir a 
 raise, a la recreation, et au profit. 
 
 No, Reader, we must not linger here, 
 
 Hicr, waar in Hollands heerlijkste oorden 
 
 De lieve Lcnte zoeter lacht, 
 Het schrofiend Zud, het grijnzend Noorden 
 
 Ztjn' glued en strenge kou verzacht , 
 If'aar nijverheid en blij genoegen, 
 Waar stilte en vlijt zich samenvoegfn.* 
 
 We must return to Doncaster. It would 
 not be convenient for me to enter minutely, 
 even if my materials were sufficient for that 
 purpose, into the course of our student's life, 
 from the time when he was entered among 
 the Greenies of this famous University ; nor 
 to describe the ceremonies which were used 
 at his ungreening, by his associates ; nor the 
 academical ones with which, at the termina- 
 tion of his regular terms, his degree in medi- 
 cine was conferred. I can only tell thee 
 that, during his residence at Leyden, he 
 learned with exemplary diligence whatever 
 he was expected to learn there, and by the 
 industrious use of good opportunities a great 
 deal more. 
 
 But, he fell in love with a Burgemeester's 
 Daughter. 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 ARMS OF LEYDEN. DANIEL DOVE, M.D. A 
 LOVE STORY, STRANGE BUT TRUE. 
 
 Oye el ertrailo caso, advierte y siente ; 
 Suceso e$ raro, mas verdadha sido. 
 
 BALBIENA. 
 
 THE arms of Leyden are two cross keys, 
 * LBV DEN'S R^MP. 
 
 gules in a field argent ; and having been 
 entrusted with the power of those keys to 
 bind and to loose, and, moreover, to bleed 
 and to blister, to administer at his discretion 
 pills, potions, and powders, and employ the 
 whole artillery of the pharmacopoeia, 
 Daniel returned to Doncaster. The papal 
 keys convey no such general power as the 
 keys of Leyden : they give authority over 
 the conscience and the soul ; now it is not 
 every man that has a conscience, or that 
 chooses to keep one ; and as for souls, if 
 it were not an article of faith to believe 
 otherwise, one might conclude that the 
 greater part of mankind had none, from the 
 utter disregard of them which is manifested 
 in the whole course of their dealings with 
 each other. But bodily diseases are among 
 the afflictions which flesh is heir to j and we 
 are not more surely f rages consumer e nati, 
 than we are born to consume physic also, 
 greatly to the benefit of that profession in 
 which Daniel Dove had now obtained his 
 commission. 
 
 But though he was now M.D. in due 
 form, and entitled to the insignia of the pro- 
 fessional wig, the muff, and the gold-headed 
 cane, it was not Mr. Hopkins's intention 
 that he should assume his title, and com- 
 mence practice as a physician. This would 
 have been an unpromising adventure ; 
 whereas, on the other hand, the considera- 
 tion which a regular education at Leyden, 
 then the most flourishing school of medicine, 
 would obtain for him in the vicinity, was a 
 sure advantage. Hopkins could now pre- 
 sent him as a person thoroughly qualified to 
 be his successor : and if at any future time 
 Dove should think proper to retire from the 
 more laborious parts of his calling, and take 
 up his rank, it would be in his power to do so. 
 
 But one part of my Readers are, I sus- 
 pect, at this time a little impatient to know 
 something about the Burgemeester's Daugh- 
 ter ; and I, because of the 
 
 allegiance and fast fealty 
 
 Which I do owe unto all womankind *, 
 
 am bound to satisfy their natural and be-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 coining curiosity. Not, however, in this 
 place ; for though love has its bitters, I never 
 will mix it up in the same chapter with 
 physic. Daniel's passion for the Burge- 
 rneester's Daughter must be treated of in a 
 chapter by itself, this being a mark of re- 
 spect due to the subject, to her beauty, and 
 to the dignity of Mynheer, her Wei Edel, 
 Groot, Hoogh-Achtbaer father. 
 
 First, however, I must dispose of an 
 objection. 
 
 There may be readers who, though they 
 can understand why a lady instead of telling 
 her love, should 
 
 let concealment like a worm in the bud 
 
 Feed on her damask cheek, 
 
 will think it absurd to believe that any man 
 should fix his affections as Daniel did upon 
 the Burgemeester's Daughter, on a person 
 whom he had no hopes of obtaining, and 
 with whom, as will presently appear, he 
 never interchanged a word. I cannot help 
 their incredulity. But if they will not be- 
 lieve nit . they may perhaps believe the news- 
 papers, wnich, about the year 1810, related 
 the following case in point. 
 
 " A short time since a curious circum- 
 stance happened. The Rector of St. Martin's 
 parish was sent for to pray by a gentleman 
 of the name of Wright, who lodged in St. 
 James's Street, Pimlico. A few days after- 
 wards Mr. Wright's solicitor called on the 
 Rector, to inform him that Mr. Wright was 
 dead, and had made a codicil to his will 
 wherein he had left him 1000Z., and Mr. Ab- 
 bott, the Speaker of the House of Commons, 
 2000Z., and all his personal property and 
 estates, deer-park and fisheries, &c. to Lady 
 Frances Bruce Brudenell, daughter of the 
 Earl of Ailesbury. Upon the Rector's going 
 to Lord Ailesbury's to inform her Ladyship, 
 the house-steward said she was married to 
 Sir Henry Wilson of Chelsea Park, but he 
 would go to her Ladyship and inform her of 
 the matter. Lady Frances said she did not 
 know any such person as Mr. Wright, but 
 desired the Steward to go to the Rector to 
 get the whole particulars, and say she would 
 wait on him the next day : she did so, and 
 found to her great astonishment that the 
 
 whole was true. She afterwards went to 
 St. James's Street, and saw Mr. Wright in 
 his coffin ; and then she recollected him, as 
 having been a great annoyance to her many 
 years ago at the Opera House, where he had 
 a box next to hers : he never spoke to her, 
 but was continually watching her, look 
 wherever she would, till at length she was 
 under the necessity of requesting her friends 
 to procure another box. The estates are 
 from '20 to 30,OOOZ. a-year. Lady Frances 
 intends putting all her family into mourning 
 out of respect." 
 
 Whether such a bequest ought to have 
 been held good in law, and if so, whether it 
 ought in conscience to have been accepted, 
 are points upon which I should probably 
 differ both from the Lord Chancellor, and 
 the Lady Legatee. 
 
 CHAPTER LII. 
 
 SHOWING HOW THE YOUNG STUDENT FELL IN 
 
 LOVE AND HOW HE MADE THE BKST USE 
 
 OF HIS MISFORTUNE. 
 
 // creder, danne vaghe, i cortesia, 
 Quando colui eke scrive o chefavella, 
 
 Pussa essere sospetto di bugia, 
 Per dir qualcosa troppo rara e bella. 
 
 Dunque chi ascolta questa isloria mea 
 E non la credc frottola o novella 
 
 Ma cosa vera come ella e difalto, 
 
 Fa che di lui mi chiami soddisfatto. 
 
 E pure che mi diate pienajeile, 
 De la dubbiezza altrui poco mi cale. 
 
 RlCCIARDETTO. 
 
 DEAR Ladies, I can neither tell you the 
 name of the Burgemeester's Daughter, nor 
 of the B urgemeester himself. If I ever heard 
 them they have escaped my recollection. 
 The Doctor used to say his love for her 
 was in two respects like the small-pox; for 
 he took it by inoculation, and having taken 
 it, he was secured from ever having the 
 disease in a more dangerous form. 
 
 The case was a very singular one. Had 
 it not been so it is probable I should never 
 have been made acquainted with it. Most 
 men seem to consider their unsuccessful love, 
 when it is over, as a folly which they neither 
 like to speak of, nor to remember.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 119 
 
 Daniel Dove never was introduced to the 
 Burgemeester's Daughter, never was in com- 
 pany with her, and, as already has been inti- 
 mated, never spoke to her. As for any hope 
 of ever by any possibility obtaining a return 
 of his affection, a devout Roman Catholic 
 might upon much better grounds hope that 
 Saint Ursula, or any of her Eleven Thou- 
 sand Virgins would come from her place in 
 Heaven to reward his devotion with a kiss. 
 The gulph between Dives and Lazarus was 
 not more insuperable than the distance 
 between such an English Greeny at Leyden 
 and a Burgemeester's Daughter. 
 
 Here, therefore, dear Ladies, you cannot 
 look to read of 
 
 Le speranxe, glf affttti, 
 La ittttafc', !c tciifrczie, > primi 
 Scambievoli sospiri, i primi sguardi.* 
 
 Nor will it be possible for me to give you 
 
 Fidea di quel volto 
 
 Dave appresf il sun core 
 
 La prima valla a sospirar d'amore.* 
 
 This I cannot do ; for I never saw her pic- 
 ture, nor heard her features described. And 
 most likely if I had seen her herself, in her 
 youth and beauty, the most accurate descrip- 
 tion that words could convey might be just 
 as like Fair Rosamond, Helen, Rachael, or 
 Eve. Suffice it to say that she was con^- 
 fessedly the beauty of that city, and of those 
 parts. 
 
 But it was not for the fame of her beauty 
 that Daniel fell in love with her : so little 
 was there of this kind of romance in his 
 nature, that report never raised in him the 
 slightest desire of seeing her. Her beauty 
 was no more than Hecuba's to him, till he 
 saw it. But it so happened that having 
 once seen it, he saw it frequently, at leisure, 
 and always to the best advantage : " and so," 
 said he, " I received the disease by inocu- 
 lation." 
 
 Thus it was. There was at Leyden an 
 English Presbyterian Kirk for the use of the 
 English students, and any other persons 
 who might choose to frequent it. Daniel 
 felt the want there of that Liturgy in the 
 
 * METASIA. 
 
 use of which he had been trained up : and 
 finding nothing which could attract him to 
 that place of worship except the use of his 
 own language, which, moreover, was not 
 used by the preacher in any way to his 
 edification, he listened willingly to the ad- 
 vice of the good man with whom he boarded, 
 and this was, that, as soon as he had acquired 
 a slight knowledge of the Dutch tongue, he 
 should, as a means of improving himself in 
 it, accompany the family to their parish 
 church. Now this happened to be the very 
 church which the Burgemeester and his 
 family attended : and if the allotment of 
 pews in that church had been laid out by 
 Cupid himself, with the fore-purpose of 
 catching Daniel as in a pitfall, his position 
 there in relation to the Burgemeester's 
 Daughter could not have been more exactly 
 fixed. 
 
 " God forgive me ! " said he ; " for every 
 Sunday while she was worshipping her 
 Maker, I used to worship her." 
 
 But the folly went no farther than this; 
 it led him into no act of absurdity, for he 
 kept it to himself ; and he even turned it 
 to some advantage, or rather it shaped for 
 itself a useful direction, in this way : having 
 frequent and unobserved opportunity of 
 observing her lovely face, the countenance 
 became fixed so perfectly in his mind, that 
 even after the lapse of forty years, he was 
 sure, he said, that if he had possessed a 
 painter's art, he could have produced her 
 likeness. And having her beauty thus im- 
 pressed upon his imagination, any other ap- 
 peared to him only as a foil to it, during 
 that part of his life when he was so circum- 
 stanced that it would have been an act of 
 imprudence for him to run in love. 
 
 I smile to think how many of my readers, 
 when they are reading this chapter aloud in 
 a domestic circle, will bring up at the ex- 
 pression of running in love; like a stage- 
 coachman, who, driving at the smooth and 
 steady pace of nine miles an hour on a 
 macadamised road, comes upon some acci- 
 dental obstruction only just in time to check 
 the horses. 
 
 Amorosa who flies into love ; and Ama-
 
 120 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 tura who flutters as if she were about to do 
 the same ; and Amoretta who dances into it, 
 (poor creatures, God help them all three !) 
 and Amanda, Heaven bless her! who 
 will be led to it gently and leisurely along 
 the path of discretion, they all make a sud- 
 den stop at the words. 
 
 CHAPTER LIII. P. I. 
 
 OP THE VARIOUS WATS OF GETTING IN LOVE. 
 A CHAPTER CONTAINING SOME USEFUL 
 OBSERVATIONS, AND SOME BEAUTIFUL 
 POETRY. 
 
 Let cavillers know, that as the Lord John answered 
 the Queen in that Italian Guazzo, an old, a grave discreet 
 man is fittest to discourse of love-matters ; because he 
 hath likely more experience, observed more, hath a more 
 staid judgement, can better discern, resolve, discuss, 
 advise, give better cautions and more solid precepts, 
 better inform his auditors in such a subject, and, by reason 
 of his riper years, sooner divert. BURTON. 
 
 SLIPS of the tongue are sometimes found 
 very inconvenient by those persons who, 
 owing to some unlucky want of correspond- 
 ence between their wits and their utterance, 
 say one thing when they mean to say another, 
 or bolt out something which the slightest 
 degree of forethought would have kept un- 
 said. But more serious mischief arises from 
 that misuse of words which occurs in all in- 
 accurate writers. Many are the men, who 
 merely for want of understanding what they 
 say, have blundered into heresies and erro- 
 neous assertions of every kind, which they 
 have afterwards passionately and perti- 
 naciously defended, till they have established 
 themselves in the profession, if not in the 
 belief, of some pernicious doctrine or opinion, 
 to their own great injury and that of their 
 deluded followers, and of the common- 
 wealth. 
 
 There may be an opposite fault ; for in- 
 deed upon the agathokakological globe there 
 are opposite qualities always to be found in 
 parallel degrees, north and south of the 
 equator. 
 
 A man may dwell upon words till he be- 
 comes at length a mere precisian in speech. 
 He may think of their meaning till he loses 
 
 sight of all meaning, and they appear as 
 dark and mysterious to him as chaos and 
 outer night. "Death! Grave!" exclaims 
 Goethe's suicide, " I understand not the 
 words ! " and so he who looks for its quin- 
 tessence might exclaim of every word in the 
 dictionary. 
 
 They who cannot swim should be con- 
 tented with wading in the shallows : they 
 who can may take to the deep water, no 
 matter how deep, so it be clear. But let no 
 one dive in the mud. 
 
 I said that Daniel fell in love with the 
 Burgemeester's Daughter, and I made use 
 of the usual expression because there it was 
 the most appropriate : for the thing was 
 accidental. He himself could not have been 
 more surprised if, missing his way in a fog, 
 and supposing himself to be in the Breede- 
 straat of Leyden, where there is no canal, 
 he had fallen into the water; nor would 
 he have been more completely over head 
 and ears at once. 
 
 A man falls in love, just as he falls down 
 stairs. It is an accident, perhaps, and very 
 probably a misfortune ; something which he 
 neither intended, nor foresaw, nor appre- 
 hended. But when he runs in love it is as 
 when he runs in debt ; it is done knowingly 
 and intentionally ; and very often rashly, 
 and foolishly, even if not ridiculously, miser- 
 ably, and ruinously. 
 
 Marriages that are made up at watering- 
 places are mostly of this running sort ; and 
 there may be reason to think that they are 
 even less likely to lead to I will not say 
 happiness, but to a very humble degree of 
 contentment, than those which are a plain 
 business of bargain and sale ; for into these 
 latter a certain degree of prudence enters 
 on both sides. But there is a distinction to 
 be made here : the man who is married for 
 mere worldly motives, without a spark of 
 affection on the woman's part, may never- 
 theless- get, in every worldly sense of the 
 word, a good wife ; and while English women 
 continue to be what, thank Heaven they are, 
 he is likely to do so : but when a woman is 
 married for the sake of her fortune, the case 
 is altered, and the chances are five hundred
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 121 
 
 to one that she marries a villain, or at best a 
 scoundrel. 
 
 Falling in love and running in love are 
 both, as every body knows, common enough ; 
 and yet less so than what I shall call catching 
 love. Where the love itself is imprudent, 
 that is to say, where there is some just 
 prudential cause or impediment why the 
 two parties should not be joined together in 
 holy matrimony, there is generally some 
 degree of culpable imprudence in catching 
 it, because the danger is always to be appre- 
 hended, and may in most cases be avoided. 
 But sometimes the circumstances may be 
 such as leave no room for censure, even 
 when there may be most cause for com- 
 passion ; and under such circumstances our 
 friend, though the remembrance of the 
 Burgemeester's daughter was too vivid in 
 his imagination for him ever to run in love, 
 or at that time deliberately to walk into it, 
 as he afterwards did, under such circum- 
 stances, I say, he took a severe affection of 
 this kind. The story is a melancholy one, 
 and I shall relate it not in this place. 
 
 The rarest, and surely the happiest mar- 
 riages, are between those who have grown 
 in love. Take the description of such a 
 love in its rise and progress, ye thousands 
 and tens of thousands who have what is 
 called a taste for poetry, take it in the 
 sweet words of one of the sweetest and 
 tenderest of English Poets; and if ye doubt 
 upon the strength of my opinion whether 
 Daniel deserves such praise, ask Leigh 
 Hunt, or the Laureate, or Wordsworth, or 
 Charles Lamb. 
 
 Ah ! I remember well (and how can I 
 
 But evermore remember well) when first 
 
 Our flame began, when scarce we knew what was 
 
 The flame we felt ; when as we sat and sighed 
 
 And looked upon each other, and conceived 
 
 Not what we ailed, yet something we did ail ; 
 
 And yet were well, and yet we were not well, 
 
 And what was our disease we could not tell. 
 
 Then would we kiss, then sigh, then look : and thus 
 
 In that first garden of our simpleness 
 
 We spent our childhood. But when years began 
 
 To reap the fruit of knowledge, ah how then 
 
 Would she with graver looks, with sweet stern brow, 
 
 Check my presumption and my forwardness ; 
 
 Yet still would pive me flowers, still would me show 
 
 What she would have me, yet not have me know. 
 
 Take also the passage that presently follows 
 
 this ; it alludes to a game which has long been 
 obsolete, but some fair reader I doubt not 
 will remember the lines when she dances next. 
 
 And when in sport with other company 
 Of nymphs and shepherds we have met abroad, 
 How would she steal a look, and watch mine eye 
 Which way it went ? And when at Barley-break 
 It came unto my turn to rescue her, 
 With what an earnest, swift and nimble pace 
 Would her affection make her feet to run, 
 And further run than to my hand ! her race 
 Had no stop but my bosom, where no end. 
 And when we were to break again, how late 
 And loth her trembling hand would part with mine ; 
 And with how slow a pace would she set forth 
 To meet the encountering party who contends 
 To attain her, scarce affording him her fingers' ends 1 * 
 
 CHAPTER LIV. P. I. 
 
 MORE CONCERNING LOVE AND MARRIAGE, 
 AND MARRIAGE WITHOUT LOVE. 
 
 Nay, Cupid, pitch thy trammel where thou please, 
 Thou canst not fail to catch such fish as these. 
 
 QUARLES. 
 
 WHETHER chance or choice have most to do 
 in the weighty concerns of love and matri- 
 mony, is as difficult a question, as whether 
 chance or skill have most influence upon a 
 game at backgammon. Both enter into the 
 constitution of the game ; and choice will 
 always have some little to do with love, 
 though so many other operating motives 
 may be combined with it, that it sometimes 
 bears a very insignificant part : but from 
 marriage it is too frequently precluded on 
 the one side, unwilling consent, and sub- 
 mission to painful circumstances supplying 
 its place ; and there is one sect of Christians 
 (the Moravians), who, where they hold to the 
 rigour of their institute, preclude it on both 
 sides. They marry by lot ; and if divorces 
 ever take place among them, the scandal has 
 not been divulged to the profaner world. 
 
 Choice, however, is exercised among all 
 other Christians; or where not exercised, it is 
 presumed by a fiction of law or of divinity, call 
 it which you will. The husband even insists 
 upon it in China where the pig is bought in 
 a poke ; for when pigsnie arrives and the 
 
 * HYMEN'S TRIUMPH.
 
 122 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 purchaser opens the close sedan chair in 
 which she has been conveyed to his house, 
 if he does not like her looks at first sight, 
 he shuts her up again and sends her back. 
 
 Bat when a bachelor who has no par- 
 ticular attachment, makes up his mind to 
 take unto himself a wife, for those reasons 
 to which Uncle Toby referred the Widow 
 Wadman as being to be found in the Book 
 of Common Prayer, how then to choose is a 
 matter of much more difficulty, than one 
 who has never considered it could suppose. 
 It would not be paradoxical to assert that in 
 the sort of choice which such a person makes, 
 chance has a much greater part than either 
 affection or judgment. To set about seek- 
 ing a wife is like seeking one's fortune, and 
 the probability of finding a good one in such 
 a quest is less, though poor enough, Heaven 
 knows, in both cases. 
 
 The bard has sung, God never form'd a soul 
 
 Without its own peculiar mate, to meet 
 Its wandering half, when ripe to crown the whole 
 
 Bright plan of bliss, most heavenly, most compleat ! 
 
 But thousand evil things there are that hate 
 To look on happiness ; these hurt, impede, 
 
 And leagued with time, space, circumstance and fate, 
 Keep kindred heart from heart, to pine and pant and 
 bleed. 
 
 And as the dove to far Palmyra flying, 
 From where her native founts of Antioch beam, 
 
 Weary, exhausted, longing, panting, sighing, 
 Lights sadly at the desert's bitter stream ; 
 
 So many a soul o'er life's drear desert faring, 
 Love's pure congenial spring unfound, unquaff 'd, 
 
 Suffers, recoils, then thirsty and despairing 
 Of what it would, descends and sips the nearest 
 draught.* 
 
 So sings Maria del Occidente, the most 
 impassioned and most imaginative of all 
 poetesses. 
 
 According to the new revelation of the 
 Saint Simonians, every individual human 
 being has had a fitting mate created, the one 
 and only woman for every individual man, 
 and the one and only man for every in- 
 dividual woman ; and unless the persons so 
 made, fitted and intended for each other, 
 meet and are joined together in matrimonial 
 bonds, there can be no perfect marriage for 
 either, that harmonious union for which they 
 
 * ZOPHIEL. 
 
 were designed being frustrated for both. 
 Read the words of the Chief of the New 
 Hierarchy himself, Father Bazard : II uij 
 a sur la terre pour chaque hommc qninic 
 seule femme, et pour chaque fcmrne qu'un 
 seul homme, qui soient destines d former 
 dans le manage Funion harmonique du couple. 
 
 Grace aux lumieres de cette revelation, 
 les individus les plus avarices peuvent (<nn.fi 
 de-i aujourd'hui sentir et former le lien qui 
 doit les unir dans le mariage. 
 
 But if Sinner Simon and his disciples, 
 (most assuredly they ought to be unsainted !) 
 
 were right in this doctrine, hnppy mar- 
 riages would be far more uncommon than 
 they are ; the man might with better like- 
 lihood of finding it look for a needle in a 
 bottle of hay, than seek for his other half in 
 this wide world ; and the woman's chance 
 would be so immeasurably less, that no 
 intelligible form of figures could express her 
 fraction of it. 
 
 The man who gets in love because he has 
 determined to marry, instead of marrying 
 because he is in love, goes about to private- 
 parties and to public places in search of a 
 wife ; and there he is attracted by a woman's 
 appearance, and the figure which she makes 
 in public, not by her amiable deportment, 
 her domestic qualities and her good report. 
 Watering-places might with equal propriety 
 be called fishing places, because they are 
 frequented by female anglers, who are in 
 quest of such prey, the elder for their 
 daughters, the younger for themselves. But 
 it is a dangerous sport, for the fair Piscatrix 
 is not more likely to catch a bonito, or a 
 dorado, than she is to be caught by a shark. 
 
 Thomas Day, not old Thomas Day of the 
 old glee, nor the young Thomas Day either, 
 
 a father and son whose names are married 
 to immortal music, but the Thomas Day 
 who wrote Sandford and Merton, and who 
 had a heart which generally led him right, 
 and a head which as generally led him 
 wrong ; that Thomas Day thought that the 
 best way of obtaining a wife to his mind, 
 was to breed one up for himself. So he 
 selected two little orphan girls from a charity 
 school, with the intention of marrying in
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 123 
 
 due time the one whom he should like best. 
 Of course such proper securities as could 
 alone justify the managers of the charity in 
 consenting to so uncommon a transaction, 
 were required and given. The experiment 
 succeeded in every thing except its specific 
 object ; for he found at last that love was 
 not a thing thus to be bespoken on either 
 side ; and his Lucretia and Sabrina, as he 
 named them, grew up to be good wives for 
 other men. I do not know whether the life 
 of Thomas Day has yet found its appropriate 
 place in the Wonderful Magazine, or in the 
 collection entitled Eccentric Biography, 
 but the Reader may find it livelily related in 
 Miss Seward's Life of Darwin. 
 
 The experiment of breeding a wife is not 
 likely to be repeated. None but a most 
 determined theorist would attempt it ; and 
 to carry it into effect would require con- 
 siderable means of fortune, not to mention a 
 more than ordinary share of patience : after 
 which there must needs be a greater dis- 
 parity of years than can be approved in 
 theory upon any due consideration of human 
 nature, and any reasonable estimate of the 
 chances of human life. 
 
 CHAPTER LV. P. I. 
 THE AUTHOR'S LAST VISIT TO DONCASTER. 
 
 Fuere quondam JUEC. sedfuere ; 
 
 Nunc ubi sint, rogitas? Id minus 
 Scire has oportet scilicet. O boiue 
 Muste, Lepores Charites mertel 
 
 gaudia qffuscata nullis 
 
 Litibus ! sine nube soles ! 
 
 JANUS DOUZA. 
 
 I HAVE more to say, dear Ladies, upon that 
 which to you is, and ought to be, the most 
 interesting of all worldly subjects, matri- 
 mony, and the various ways by which it is 
 brought about ; but this is not the place for 
 saying it. The Doctor is not at this time 
 thinking of a wife : his heart can no more 
 be taken so long as it retains the lively 
 image of the Burgemeester's Daughter, than 
 Troy-town while the Palladium was safe. 
 Imagine him, therefore, in the year of our 
 
 Lord 1747, and in the twenty-sixth year of 
 his age, returned to Doncaster, with the 
 Burgemeester's Daughter, seated like the 
 Lady in the Lobster, in his inmost breast ; 
 with physic in his head and at his fingers' 
 ends; and with an appetite for knowledge 
 which had long been feeding voraciously, 
 digesting well, and increasing in its growth 
 by what it fed on. Imagine him returned 
 to Doncaster, and welcomed once more as a 
 son by the worthy old Peter Hopkins and 
 his good wife, in that comfortable habitation 
 which I have heretofore described, and of 
 which (as was at the same time stated) you 
 may see a faithful representation in Miller's 
 History of that good town ; a faithful repre- 
 sentation, I say, of what it was in 1 804 ; the 
 drawing was by Frederic Nash ; and Edward 
 Shirt made a shift to engrave it ; the house 
 had then undergone some alterations since 
 the days when I frequented it ; and now ! 
 
 Of all things in this our mortal pilgrimage 
 one of the most joyful is the returning home 
 after an absence which has been long enough 
 to make the heart yearn with hope, and not 
 sicken with it, and then to find when you 
 arrive there that all is well. But the most 
 purely painful of all painful things is to visit 
 after a long, long interval of time the place 
 which was once our home; the most purely 
 painful, because it is unmixed with fear, 
 anxiety, disappointment, or any other emo- 
 tion but what belongs to the sense of time 
 and change, then pressing upon us with its 
 whole unalleviated weight. 
 
 It was my fortune to leave Doncaster 
 early in life, and, having passed per varios 
 casus, and through as large a proportion of 
 good and evil in my humble sphere, as the 
 pious ^Eneas, though not exactly per tot dis- 
 crimina rerum, not to see it again till after 
 an absence of more than forty years, when 
 my way happened to lie through that town. 
 I should never have had heart purposely to 
 visit it, for that would have been seeking 
 sorrow ; but to have made a circuit for the 
 sake of avoiding the place would have been 
 an act of weakness ; and no man who has a 
 proper degree of self-respect will do any 
 thing of which he might justly feel ashamed.
 
 124 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 It was evening, and late in autumn, when 
 I entered Doncaster, and alighted at the 
 Old Angel Inn. " The Old Angel ! " said I 
 to my fellow-traveller ; " you see that even 
 Angels on earth grow old ! " 
 
 My companion knew how deeply I had 
 been indebted to Dr. Dove, and with what 
 affection I cherished his memory. We pre- 
 sently sallied forth to look at his former 
 habitation. Totally unknown as I now am 
 in Doncaster, (where there is probably not 
 one living soul who remembers either me, or 
 my very name,) I had determined to knock 
 at the door, at a suitable hour on the mor- 
 row, and ask permission to enter the house 
 in which I had passed so many happy and 
 memorable hours, long ago. My age and 
 appearance, I thought, might justify this 
 liberty ; and I intended also to go into the 
 garden and see if any of the fruit trees were 
 remaining, which my venerable friend had 
 planted, and from which I had so often 
 plucked and ate. 
 
 When we came there, there was nothing 
 by which I could have recognised the spot, 
 had it not been for the Mansion House that 
 immediately adjoined it. Half of its site 
 had been levelled to make room for a street 
 or road which had been recently opened. 
 Not a vestige remained of the garden behind. 
 The remaining part of the house had been 
 re-built ; and when I read the name of R. 
 DE.VNISON on the door, it was something 
 consolatory to see that the door itself was 
 not the same which had so often opened to 
 admit me. 
 
 Upon returning to the spot on the follow- 
 ing morning I perceived that the part which 
 had been re-built is employed as some sort 
 of official appendage to the Mansion House ; 
 and on the naked side-wall now open to the 
 new street, or road, I observed most dis- 
 tinctly where the old tall chimney had stood, 
 and the outline of the old pointed roof. 
 These were the only vestiges that remained ; 
 they could have no possible interest in any 
 eyes but mine, which were likely never to 
 behold them again ; and indeed it was evi- 
 dent that they would soon be effaced as a 
 deformity, and the naked side-wall smoothed 
 
 over with plaster. But they will not be 
 effaced from my memory, for they were the 
 last traces of that dwelling which is the 
 Kebla of my retrospective day-dreams, the 
 Sanctum Sanctorum of my dearest recol- 
 lections; and, like an apparition from the 
 dead, once seen, they were never to be for- 
 gotten. 
 
 CHAPTER LVI. P. I. 
 
 A TEUCE WITH MELANCHOLY. GENTLEMEN 
 SUCH AS THEY WERE IN THE YEAR OF OUR 
 LORD 1747. A HINT TO YOUNG LADIES CON- 
 CERNING THEIR GREAT-GRANDMOTHERS. 
 
 Fashions that are now called new, 
 Have been worn by more than you ; 
 Elder times have used the same, 
 Though these new ones get the name. 
 
 MIDOLETON. 
 
 WELL might Ben Jonson call bell-ringing 
 " the poetry of steeples ! " It is a poetry 
 which in some heart or other is always sure 
 to move an accordant key ; and there is not 
 much of the poetry, so called by courtesy 
 because it bears the appearance of verse, of 
 which this can be said with equal truth. 
 Doncaster since I was one of its inhabitants 
 had been so greatly changed, (improved 
 I ought to say, for its outward changes had 
 really been improvements,) that there 
 was nothing but my own recollections to 
 carry me back into the past, till the clock of 
 St. George's struck nine, on the evening of 
 our arrival, and its chimes began to measure 
 out the same time in the same tones which 
 I used to hear as regularly as the hours came 
 round, forty long years ago. 
 
 Enough of this ! My visit to Doncaster 
 was incidentally introduced by the com- 
 parison which I could not choose but make 
 between such a return, and that of the 
 Student from Leyden. We must now re- 
 vert to the point from whence I strayed, and 
 go farther back than the forty years over 
 which the chimes, as if with magic, had 
 transported me. We must go back to the 
 year 1747, when gentlemen wore sky-blue 
 coats, with silver button holes and huge
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 1-25 
 
 cuffs extending more than half way from 
 the middle of the hand to the elbow, short 
 breeches just reaching to the silver garters 
 at the knee, and embroidered waistcoats 
 with long flaps which came almost as low. 
 Were I to describe Daniel Dove in the wig 
 which he then wore, and which observed a 
 modest mean between the bush of the 
 Apothecary and the consequential foretop 
 of the Physician with its depending knots, 
 fore and aft ; were I to describe him in a 
 sober suit of brown or snuff-coloured dittos, 
 such as beseemed his profession, but with 
 cuffs of the dimensions, waistcoat-flaps of 
 the length, and breeches of the brevity be- 
 fore mentioned ; Amorosa and Amatura and 
 Amoretta would exclaim that love ought 
 never to be named in connection with such 
 a figure, Amabilis, sweet girl, in the very 
 bloom of innocence and opening youth, 
 would declare she never could love such a 
 creature, and Amanda herself would smile, 
 not contemptuously, nor at her idea of the 
 man, but at the mutability of fashion. Smile 
 if you will, young Ladies ! your great-grand- 
 mothers wore large hoops, peaked stoma- 
 chers, and modesty-bits * ; their riding- 
 habits and waistcoats were trimmed with 
 silver, and they had very gentleman-like 
 perukes for riding in, as well as gentleman- 
 like cocked hats. Yet, young Ladies, they 
 were as gay and giddy in their time as you 
 are now ; they were as attractive and as 
 lovely ; they were not less ready than you 
 are to laugh at the fashions of those who 
 had gone before them; they were wooed 
 and won by gentlemen in short breeches, 
 long flapped waistcoats, large cuffs, and tie- 
 wigs ; and the wooing and winning pro- 
 ceeded much in the same manner as it had 
 ' .me in the generations before them, as the 
 same agreeable part of this world's business 
 proceeds among yourselves, and as it will 
 proceed when you will be as little thought 
 of by your great-grand-daughters as your 
 
 * Probably the same as the Modesty-piece. Johnson 
 quotes the following from the Guardian. " A narrow 
 lace which runs along the upper part of the stays before, 
 lieing a part of the tucker, is called the Modesty -piece." 
 in v. 
 
 great-grand-mothers are at this time by 
 you. What care you for your great-grand- 
 mothers ! 
 
 The law of entails sufficiently proves that 
 our care for our posterity is carried far, 
 sometimes indeed beyond what is reasonable 
 and j ust. On the other hand, it is certain 
 that the sense of relationship in the ascend- 
 ing line produces in general little other 
 feeling than that of pride in the haughty 
 and high-born. That it should be so to a 
 certain degree, is in the order of nature and 
 for the general good : but that in our selfish 
 state of society this indifference for our 
 ancestors is greater than the order of nature 
 would of itself produce, may be concluded 
 from the very different feeling which pre- 
 vailed among some of the ancients, and still 
 prevails in other parts of the world. 
 
 He who said that he did not see why he 
 should be expected to do any thing for Pos- 
 terity, when Posterity had done nothing for 
 him, might be deemed to have shown as 
 much worthlessness as wit in this saying, if 
 it were any thing more than the sportive 
 sally of a light-hearted man. Yet one who 
 " keeps his heart with all diligence," knowing 
 that " out of it are the issues of life," will 
 take heed never lightly to entertain a thought 
 that seems to make light of a duty, still 
 less will he give it utterance. We owe much 
 to Posterity, nothing less than all that we 
 have received from our Forefathers. And 
 for myself I should be unwilling to believe 
 that nothing is due from us to our ancestors. 
 If I did not acquire this feeling from the 
 person who is the subject of these volumes, 
 it was at least confirmed by him. He used 
 to say that one of the gratifications which 
 he promised himself after death, was that of 
 becoming acquainted with all his progenitors, 
 in order, degree above degree, up to Noah, 
 and from him up to our first parents. " But," 
 said he, " though I mean to proceed regularly 
 step by step, curiosity will make me in one 
 instance trespass upon this proper arrange- 
 ment, and I shall take the earliest oppor- 
 tunity of paying my respects to Adam and 
 Eve."
 
 126 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 CHAPTER LVIL P.I. 
 
 AN ATTEMPT IS MADE TO REMOVE THE UN- 
 PLEASANT IMPRESSION PRODUCED UPON 
 THE LADIES BT THE DOCTOR'S TIE-WIG 
 AND HIS SUIT OF SNUFF-COLOURED DITTOS. 
 
 So full of shapes is fancy 
 That it alone is high fantastical. 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT. 
 
 I MUST not allow the feminine part of my 
 readers to suppose that the Doctor, when in 
 his prime of life, was not a very likeable 
 person in appearance, as well as in every 
 thing else, although he wore what, in the 
 middle of the last century, was the costume 
 of a respectable country practitioner in 
 medicine. Though at Leyden he could only 
 look at a Burgemeester's daughter as a cat 
 may look at a King, there was not a Mayor 
 or Alderman's daughter in Doncaster who 
 would have thought herself disparaged if 
 he had fixed his eyes upon her, and made 
 her a proffer of his hand. 
 
 Yet, as in the opinion of many dress 
 " makes the man," and any thing which de- 
 parts widely from the standard of dress, 
 " the fellow," I must endeavour to give those 
 young Ladies who are influenced more than 
 they ought to be, and perhaps more than 
 they are aware, by such an opinion, a more 
 favourable notion of the Doctor's appear- 
 ance, than they are likely to have if they 
 bring him before their eyes in the fashion of 
 his times. It will not assist this intention 
 on my part, if I request you to look at him 
 as you would look at a friend who was 
 dressed in such a costume for a masquerade 
 or a fancy ball ; for your friend would ex- 
 pect and wish to be laughed at, having 
 assumed the dress for that benevolent pur- 
 pose. Well, then, let us take on' the afore- 
 said sad snuff-colour coat with broad deep 
 cuffs ; still the waistcoat with its long flaps, 
 and the breeches that barely reach to the knee, 
 will provoke your merriment. We must not 
 proceed farther in undressing him ; and if I 
 conceal these under a loose morning gown 
 of green damask, the insuperable perriwig 
 would still remain. 
 
 Let me then present him to your imagina- 
 tion, setting forth on horseback in that sort 
 of weather which no man encounters volun- 
 tarily, but which men of his profession who 
 practise in the Country are called upon to 
 face at all seasons and all hours. Look at 
 him in a great coat of the closest texture 
 that the looms of Leeds could furnish, 
 one of those dreadnoughts, the utility of 
 which sets fashion at defiance. You will 
 not observe his boot-stockings coming high 
 above the knees ; the coat covers them ; and 
 if it did not, you would be far from de- 
 spising them now. His tie-wig is all but 
 hidden under a hat, the brim of which is broad 
 enough to answer in some degree the use 
 of an umbrella. Look at him now, about 
 to set off on some case of emergency ; with 
 haste in his expressive eyes, and a cast of 
 thoughtful anxiety over one of the most 
 benignant countenances that Nature ever 
 impressed with the characters of good hu- 
 mour and good sense ! 
 
 Was he, then, so handsome ? you say. 
 Nay, Ladies, I know not whether you would 
 have called him so ; for, among the things 
 which were too wonderful for him, yea, 
 which he knew not, I suspect that Solomon 
 might have included a woman's notion of 
 handsomeness in man. 
 
 CHAPTER LVHI. P. I. 
 
 CONCERNING THE PORTRAIT OF DOCTOR 
 DANIEL DOVE. 
 
 The sure traveller, 
 Though he alight sometimes still goeth on. 
 
 HERBEKT. 
 
 THERE is no portrait of Dr. Daniel Dove. 
 And there Horrebow, the Natural His- 
 torian of Iceland, if Horrebow had been 
 his biographer would have ended this 
 chapter.* 
 
 * The author of the Doctor, &c. ; had evidently in view 
 the end of the Laureate's Second Letter in his Vindicia? 
 Eccles. Anglic. " And with this I conclude a letter which 
 mav remind the reader of the Chapter concerning Ow! 
 in Horrebow's Natural History of Iceland."
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 127 
 
 " Here perchance," (observe, Header, I 
 am speaking now in the words of the Lord 
 Keeper, Sir Nicholas Bacon,) " here per- 
 chance a question would be asked (and 
 yet I do marvel to hear a question made of 
 so plain a matter,) what should be the 
 cause of this ? If it were asked," (still 
 the Lord Keeper spcaketh) " thus I mean 
 to answer : That I think no man so blind 
 but seeth it, no man so deaf but heareth it, 
 nor no man so ignorant but understandeth 
 it." " // y a des demandes si ftottes quoji ne 
 les sqauroit resoudre par autre moyen qiie par 
 la moquerie et les absurdities; afin qiiune 
 sottise pousac I autre?* 
 
 But some reader may ask what have I 
 answered here, or rather what have I brought 
 forward the great authority of the Lord 
 Keeper Sir Nicholas Bacon and the arch- 
 vitupcrator P. Garasse, to answer for me ? 
 Do I take it for granted that the cause 
 wherefore there is no portrait of Dr. Daniel 
 Dove should be thus apparent? or the 
 reason why, there being no such portrait, 
 llorrebow should simply have said so, and 
 having so said, end therewith the chapter 
 which he had commenced upon the subject. 
 
 O, gentle reader, you who ask this perti- 
 nent question, I entirely agree with you ! 
 there is nothing more desirable in compo- 
 sition than perspicuity ; and in perspicuity 
 precision is implied. Of the Author who 
 has attained it in his style, it may indeed 
 l)e said, O7?i?ie t ulit punct urn, so far as relates 
 to style ; for all other graces, those only ex- 
 <vpted which only genius can impart, will 
 necessarily follow. Nothing is so desirable, 
 and yet it should seem that nothing is so 
 difficult. He who thinks least about it when 
 he is engaged in composition will be most 
 likely to attain it, for no man ever attained 
 it by labouring for it. Read all the treatises 
 upon composition that ever were composed, 
 and you will find nothing which conveys so 
 much useful instruction as the account given 
 by John Wesley of his own way of writing. 
 ' I never think of my style," says he ; " but 
 just set down the words that come first. 
 
 Only when I transcribe any thing for the 
 press, then I think it my duty to see that 
 every phrase be clear, pure and proper : con- 
 ciseness, which is now as it were natural to 
 me, brings quantum sufficit of strength. If 
 after all I observe any stiff expression, I 
 throw it out neck and shoulders." Let your 
 words take their course freely ; they will 
 then dispose themselves in their natural 
 order, and make your meaning plain : that 
 is, Mr. Author, supposing you have a mean- 
 ing ; and that it is not an insidious, and for 
 that reason, a covert one. With all the 
 head-work that there is in these volumes, 
 and all the heart-work too, I have not bitten 
 my nails over a single sentence which they 
 contain. I do not say that my hand has not 
 sometimes been passed across my brow ; nor 
 that the fingers of my left hand have not 
 played with the hair upon my forehead, 
 like Thalaba's with the grass that grew beside 
 Oneiza's tomb. 
 
 No people have pretended to so much 
 precision in their language as the Turks. 
 They have not only verbs active, passive, 
 transitive, and reciprocal, but also verbs co- 
 operative, verbs meditative, verbs frequenta- 
 tive, verbs negative, and verbs impossible ; 
 and, moreover, they have what are called 
 verbs of opinion, and verbs of knowledge. 
 The latter are used when the speaker mcains 
 it to be understood that he speaks of his own 
 sure knowledge, and is absolutely certain of 
 what he asserts ; the former when he ad- 
 vances it only as what he thinks likely, or 
 believes upon the testimony of others. 
 
 Now in the Turkish language the word 
 whereon both the meaning and the construc- 
 tion of the sentence depend, is placed at 
 the end of a sentence, which extends not 
 unfrequently to ten, fifteen, or twenty lines. 
 What, therefore, they might gain in accu- 
 racy by this nice distinction of verbs must 
 be more than counterbalanced by the am- 
 biguity consequent upon long-windedness. 
 And, notwithstanding their conscientious 
 moods, they are not more remarkable for 
 veracity than their neighbours who, in 
 ancient times, made so much use of the inde- 
 finite tenses, and were said to be always liars.
 
 123 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 We have a sect in our own country who 
 profess to use a strict and sincere plainness 
 of speech ; they call their dialect the plain 
 language, and yet they are notorious for 
 making a studied precision in their words 
 answer all the purposes of equivocation. 
 
 CHAPTER LIX. P. I. 
 
 SHOWING WHAT THAT QUESTION WAS, WHICH 
 WAS ANSWERED BEFOKE IT WAS ASKED. 
 
 Chacun a son stile ; le mien, comme vouz voyez, n'est pas 
 laconique. ME. DE SEVIGNE'. 
 
 IN reporting progress upon the subject of 
 the preceding chapter, it appears that the 
 question asked concerning the question that 
 was answered, was not itself answered in 
 that chapter ; so that it still remains to be 
 explained what it was that was so obvious 
 as to require no other answer than the 
 answer that was there given ; whether it 
 was the reason why there is no portrait of 
 Dr. Daniel Dove ? or the reason why Hor- 
 rebow, if he had been the author of this 
 book, would simply have said that there was 
 none, and have said nothing more about it ? 
 The question which was answered related 
 to Horrebow. He would have said nothing 
 more about the matter, because he would 
 have thought there was nothing more to say ; 
 or because he agreed with Britain's old 
 rhyming Remembrancer, that although 
 
 More might be said hereof to make a proof, 
 Yet more to say were more than is enough. 
 
 But if there be readers who admire a style 
 of such barren brevity, I must tell them in 
 the words of Estienne Pasquier, th&tjefais 
 grande conscience dalambiquer man esprit en 
 telle espece d'escrite pour leur complairc. Do 
 they take me for a Bottle-Conjurer that I 
 am to compress myself into a quart, wine- 
 merchants' measure, and be corked down ? I 
 must have "ample room and verge enough," 
 a large canvass such as Haydon requires, 
 and as Rubens required before him. When 
 I pour out nectar for my guests it must 
 be into 
 
 a bowl 
 
 Large as my capacious soul. 
 
 It is true I might have contented myself 
 with merely saying there is no portrait of 
 my venerable friend ; and the benevolent 
 reader would have been satisfied with the 
 information, while at the same time he 
 wished there had been one, and perhaps in- 
 voluntarily sighed at thinking there was not. 
 But I have duties to perform ; first to the 
 memory of my most dear philosopher and 
 friend ; secondly, to myself; thirdly, to pos- 
 terity, which in this matter I cannot con- 
 scientiously prefer either to myself or my 
 friend ; fourthly, to the benevolent reader 
 whodelighteth in this book, and consequently 
 loveth me therefore, and whom therefore I 
 love, though, notwithstanding here is love 
 for love between us, we know not each other 
 now, and never shall ! fourthly, I say to 
 the benevolent reader, or rather readers, 
 utriusque generis ; and, fifthly, to the Public 
 for the time being. " England expects every 
 man to do his duty;" and England's ex- 
 pectation would not be disappointed if every 
 Englishman were to perform his as faithfully 
 and fully as I will do mine. Mark me, 
 Reader, it is only of my duties to England, 
 and to the parties above-mentioned that I 
 speak ; other duties I am accountable for 
 elsewhere. God forbid that I should ever 
 speak of them in this strain, or ever think of 
 them otherwise than in humility and fear ! 
 
 CHAPTER LX. P. I. 
 
 SHOWING CAUSE WHY THE QUESTION WHICH 
 WAS NOT ASKED OUGHT TO BE ANSWEKED. 
 
 Nay in troth 1 talk but coarsely, 
 But I hold it comfortable for the understanding. 
 
 BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. 
 
 " WHAT, more buffoonery ! " says the Ho- 
 nourable Fastidious Feeble-wit, who con- 
 descends to act occasionally as Small Critic 
 to the Court Journal : " what, still more 
 of this buffoonery ! " 
 
 " Yes, Sir, vous ne recevrez de may, sur 
 le commencement et milieu de celuy-cy mien 
 chapitre que bouffimncrie; ettuutesfois bovffon- 
 nerie qui porte quant d soy une philosophic ft
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 129 
 
 contemplation generate de la vanite de ce 
 nnmcle." * 
 
 " More absurdities still ! " says Lord 
 Make-motion Ganderman, " more and more 
 absurdities ! " 
 
 " Ay, my Lord ! " as the Gracioso says in 
 one of Calderon's Plays, 
 
 sino digo lo ijtte quiero, 
 de que me sirve ser loco t 
 
 " Ay, my Lord ! " as the old Spaniard 
 says iu his national' poesy, " mas, y mas, y 
 mas, y mas" more, and more, and more, and 
 more. You may live to learn what vaunted 
 maxims of your political philosophy are 
 nothing else than absurdities in masquerade ; 
 what old and exploded follies there are, 
 which with a little vamping and varnishing 
 pass for new and wonderful discoveries ; 
 
 What a world of businesses 
 Which by interpretation are mere nothings ! f 
 
 This you may live to learn. As for my 
 absurdities, they may seem very much be- 
 neath your sapience ; but when I say kce 
 nugae seria ducunt, (for a trite quotation when 
 well-set is as good as one that will be new 
 to every body,) let me add, my Lord, that it 
 will be well both for you and your country, 
 if your practical absurdities do not draw 
 after them consequences of a very different 
 dye! 
 
 No, my Lord, as well as Ay, my Lord ! 
 
 Never made man of woman born 
 Of a bullock's tail, a blowing-horn ; 
 Nor can an ass's hide disguise 
 A lion, if he ramp and rise.J 
 
 " More fooling," exclaims Dr. Dense : he 
 takes off his spectacles, lays them on the 
 table beside him, with a look of despair, and 
 ; applies to the snuff-box for consolation. It 
 is a capacious box, and the Doctor's servant 
 takes care that his master shall never find 
 in it a deficiency of the best rappee. " More 
 fooling ! " says that worthy Doctor. 
 
 Fooling, say you, my learned Dr. Dense ? 
 Chiabrera will tell you 
 
 che iion e ria 
 
 Una gentilfollia, 
 
 my erudite and good Doctor ; 
 
 But do you know what fooling is ? true fooling, 
 The circumstances that belong unto it? 
 For every idle knave that shews his teeth, 
 Wai.ts, and would live, can juggle, tumble, fiddle, 
 Make a dog-face, or can abuse his fellow, 
 Is not a fool at first dash. 
 
 It is easy to talk of fooling and of folly, 
 mats d'en savoir les ordres, les rangs, les 
 distinctions ; de connoitre ces differences de- 
 licates quil y a de Folie a Folie ; les affinites 
 et les alliances qui se trouvent entre la Sagesse 
 et cette meme Folie, as Saint Evremond 
 says ; to know this is not under every one's 
 nightcap; and perhaps, my learned Doctor, 
 may not be under your wig, orthodox and 
 in full buckle as it is. 
 
 The Doctor is all astonishment, and almost 
 begins to doubt whether I am fooling in 
 earnest. Ay, Doctor ! you meet in this 
 world with false mirth as often as with false 
 gravity ; the grinning hypocrite is not a 
 more uncommon character than the groan- 
 ing one. As much light discourse comes 
 from a heavy heart, as from a hollow one ; 
 and from a full mind as from an empty 
 head. "Levity," says Mr. Danby, " is 
 sometimes a refuge from the gloom of 
 seriousness. A man may whistle ' for want 
 of thought,' or from having too much of it " 
 
 " Poor creature ! " says the Reverend 
 Philocalvin Frybabe. " Poor creature ! 
 little does he think what an account he 
 must one day render for every idle word ! " 
 
 And what account, odious man, if thou 
 art a hypocrite, and hardly less odious if 
 thou art sincere in thine abominable creed, 
 what account wilt thou render for thine 
 extempore prayers and thy set discourses? 
 My words, idle as thou mayest deem them, 
 will never stupify the intellect, nor harden 
 the heart, nor besot the conscience like an 
 opiate drug ! 
 
 "Such facetiousness," saith Barrow, "is 
 not unreasonable or unlawful which minis- 
 tereth harmless divertisement and delight to 
 conversation ; harmless, I say, that is, not 
 entrenching upon piety, not infringing 
 charity or justice, not disturbing peace. For 
 Christianity is not so tetrical, so harsh, so 
 
 * PASQUIER. t BEAI'MONT and FLETCHER. J PEELB. 
 
 BEAUMONT and FLETCHER.
 
 130 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 envious as to bar us continually from in- 
 nocent, much less from wholesome and 
 useful pleasure, such as human life doth 
 need or require. And if jocular discourse 
 may serve to good purposes of this kind ; if 
 it may be apt to raise our drooping spirits, 
 to allay our irksome cares, to whet our 
 blunted industry, to recreate our minds, 
 being tired and cloyed with graver occu- 
 pations ; if it may breed alacrity, or maintain 
 good-humour among us ; if it may conduce 
 to sweeten conversation and endear society, 
 then is it not inconvenient, or unprofitable. 
 If for those ends we may use other recrea- 
 tions, employing on them our ears and 
 eyes, our hands and feet, our other instru- 
 ments of sense and motion ; why may we 
 not as well to them accommodate our 
 organs of speech and interior sense ? Why 
 should those games which excite our wit 
 and fancies be less reasonable than those 
 whereby our grosser parts and faculties are 
 exercised? yea, why are not those more 
 reasonable, since they are performed in a 
 manly way, and have in them a smack of 
 reason; seeing also they may be so managed, 
 as not only to divert and please, but to 
 improve and profit the mind, rousing and 
 quickening it, yea, sometimes enlightening 
 and instructing it, by good sense conveyed 
 in jocular expression." 
 
 But think not that in thus producing the 
 authority of one of the wisest and best of 
 men, I offer any apology for my levities to 
 your Gravityships ! they need it not and 
 you deserve it not. 
 
 Questi 
 
 Sonfatti per dar pasta a gr ignoranti ; 
 Ma vui ch' avete gC intelletti sani, 
 Mirale la dottrina che s'asconde 
 Sot/o quette coperte alte e prqfonde. 
 
 Le cose belle, epreziose, e care, 
 Saporite, toavi e dilicate, 
 Scoperte in man non si dtltbon portare 
 Perche da' porci non sieno imbrattate.* 
 
 Gentlemen, you have made me break the 
 word of promise both to the eye and ear. 
 I began this chapter with the intention of 
 showing to the reader's entire satisfaction, 
 
 * ORLANDO INNAMOHATO. 
 
 why the question which was not asked, ought 
 to be answered ; and now another chapter 
 must be appropriated to that matter ! Many 
 things happen between the cup and the lip, 
 and between the beginning of a chapter and 
 the conclusion thereof. 
 
 CHAPTER LXL P. I. 
 
 WHEREIN THE QUESTION IS ANSWERED WHICH 
 OUGHT TO HAVE BEEN ASKED. 
 
 Ajutami, tu penna, et calamaio, 
 
 Ch,' to ho tra mono una tnateria asciutta. 
 
 MATTIO FRANZESI. 
 
 WHEREFORE there is no portrait of my ex- 
 cellent friend, is a question which ought to 
 be answered, because the solution will ex- 
 hibit something of what in the words of the 
 old drinking song he used to call his " poor 
 way of thinking." And it is a question 
 which may well be asked, seeing that in the 
 circle wherein he moved, there were some 
 persons of liberal habits and feelings as well 
 as liberal fortune, who enjoyed his pecu- 
 liarities, placed the fullest reliance upon his 
 professional skill, appreciated most highly 
 his moral and intellectual character, and 
 were indeed personally attached to him in 
 no ordinary degree. 
 
 For another reason also ought this ques- 
 tion to be resolved ; a reason which what- 
 ever the reader may think, has the more 
 weight with me, because it nearly concerns 
 myself. " There is indeed," says the Phi- 
 losopher of Bemerton, " a near relation 
 between seriousness and wisdom, and one 
 is a most excellent friend to the other. 
 A man of a serious, sedate and considerate 
 temper, as he is always in a ready dis- 
 position for meditation, (the best improve- 
 ment both of knowledge and manners,) so 
 he thinks without disturbance, enters not 
 upon another notion till he is master of 
 the first, and so makes clean work with it : 
 whereas a man of a loose, volatile and 
 shattered humour, thinks only by fits and 
 starts, now and then in a morning interval, 
 when the serious mood comes upon him;
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 131 
 
 and even then too, let but the least trifle 
 cross his way, and his desultorious fancy 
 presently takes the scent, leaves the unfi- 
 nished and half-mangled notion, and skips 
 away in pursuit of the new game." Reader, 
 it must be my care not to come under this 
 condemnation ; and therefore I must follow 
 to the end the subject which is before me : 
 quare autem nobis dicendum videtur, ne 
 temere secuti putemur ; et breriter dicendum, 
 ne in hujusmodi rebus diutius, quam ratio 
 prcEcipiendi postulet commoremur.* 
 
 Mr. Copley of Netherhall was particularly 
 desirous of possessing this so-much-by-us- 
 now-desiderated likeness, and would have 
 invited an Artist from London, if the 
 Doctor could have been prevailed upon to 
 sit for it ; but to this no persuasions could 
 induce him. He never assigned a reason 
 for this determination, and indeed always 
 evaded the subject when it was introduced, 
 letting it at the same time plainly be per- 
 ceived that he was averse to it, and wished 
 not to be so pressed as to draw from him 
 a direct refusal. But once when the desire 
 had been urged with some seriousness, he re- 
 plied that he was the last of his race, and if 
 he were to be the first who had his portrait 
 taken, well might they who looked at it ex- 
 claim with Solomon, " Vanity of vanities !" 
 
 In that thought indeed it was that the 
 root of his objection lay. Pauli in domo, 
 prater se nemo superest, is one of the most 
 melancholy reflections to which Paulus 
 yEmilius gave utterance in that speech of 
 his which is recorded by Livy. The speedy 
 extinction of his family in his own person 
 was often in the Doctor's mind ; and he 
 would sometimes touch upon it when, in 
 his moods of autumnal feeling, he was con- 
 versing with those persons whom he had 
 received into his heart of hearts. Unworthy 
 as I was, it was my privilege and happiness 
 to be one of them ; and at such times his 
 deepest feelings could not have been ex- 
 pressed more unreservedly, if he had given 
 them utterance in poetry or in prayer. 
 
 Blessed as he had been in all other things 
 
 " CICERO. 
 
 to the extent of his wishes, it would be 
 unreasonable in him, he said, to look upon 
 this as a misfortune ; so to repine would 
 indicate little sense of gratitude to that 
 bountiful Providence which had so emi- 
 nently favoured him ; little also of religious 
 acquiescence in its will. It was not by any 
 sore calamity nor series of afflictions that 
 the extinction of his family had been brought 
 on ; the diminution had been gradual, as 
 if to show that their uses upon earth were 
 done. His grandfather had only had two 
 children; his parents but one, and that 
 one was now ultimus suorum. They had 
 ever been a family in good repute, walking 
 inoffensively towards all men, uprightly 
 with their neighbours, and humbly with 
 their God ; and perhaps this extinction was 
 their reward. For what Solon said of in- 
 dividuals, that no one could truly be called 
 happy till his life had terminated in a happy 
 death, holds equally true of families. 
 
 Perhaps, too, this timely extinction was 
 ordained in mercy, to avert consequences 
 which might else so probably have arisen 
 from his forsaking the station in which he 
 was born ; a lowly, but safe station, exposed 
 to fewer dangers, trials, or temptations, than 
 any other in this age or country, with which 
 he was enabled to compare it. The senti- 
 ment with which Sanazzaro concludes his 
 Arcadia was often in his mind, not as derived 
 from that famous author, but self-originated : 
 per cosa vera ed indubitata tener ti puoi, che 
 chi piu di nascoso e piu lontano dalla moltitu- 
 dine vive, miglior vive ; e colui trd mortali si 
 pub con piu veritd chiamar beato, die senza 
 invidia delle altrui grandezze, con modesto 
 animo della sua fortuna si contenta. His 
 father had removed him from that station ; 
 he would not say unwisely, for his father 
 was a wise and good man, if ever man 
 deserved to be so called ; and he could not 
 say unhappily ; for assuredly he knew that 
 all the blessings which had earnestly been 
 prayed for, had attended the determination. 
 Through that blessing he had obtained the 
 whole benefit which his father desired for 
 him, and had escaped evils which perhaps 
 had not been fully apprehended. His in-
 
 132 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 tellectual part had received all the improve- 
 ment of which it was capable, and his moral 
 nature had sustained no injury in the pro- 
 cess; nor had his faith been shaken, but 
 stood firm, resting upon a sure foundation. 
 But the entail of humble safety had been, as 
 it were, cut off; the birth-right so to 
 speak had been renounced. His children, 
 if God had given him children, must have 
 mingled in the world, there to shape for 
 themselves their lot of good or evil ; and he 
 knew enough of the world to know how 
 manifold and how insidious are the dangers, 
 which, in all its paths, beset us. He never 
 could have been to them what his father 
 had been to him ; that was impossible. 
 They could have had none of those hallow- 
 ing influences both of society and solitude 
 to act upon them, which had imbued his 
 heart betimes, and impressed upon his 
 youthful mind a character that no after 
 circumstances could corrupt. They must 
 inevitably have been exposed to more 
 danger, and could not have been so well 
 armed against it. That consideration re- 
 conciled him to being childless. God, who 
 knew what was best for him, had ordained 
 that it should be so ; and he did not, and 
 ought not, to regret, that having been the 
 most cultivated of his race, and so far the 
 happiest, it was decreed that he should be 
 the last. God's will is best. 
 
 r lg tfyaT tv^opevoc; for with some aspira- 
 tion of piety he usually concluded his more 
 serious discourse, either giving it utterance, 
 or with a silent motion of the lips, which 
 the expression of his countenance, !is well as 
 the tenour of what had gone before, rendered 
 intelligible to those who knew him as I did. 
 
 CHAPTER LXII. 
 
 IN WHICH IS RELATED THE DISCOVERT OF A 
 CERTAIN PORTRAIT AT DONCASTER. 
 
 Call in the Barber ! If the tale be long 
 
 He'll cut it short, I trust. MIDDLETON. 
 
 HERE I must relate a circumstance which 
 occurred during the few hours of my last, 
 
 and by me ever-to-be-remembered visit to 
 Doncaster. As we were on the way from 
 the Old Angel Inn to the Mansion House, 
 adjoining which stood, or to speak more 
 accurately had stood, the Kebla to which 
 the steps of my pilgrimage were bent, we 
 were attracted by a small but picturesque 
 group in a shaving-shop, exhibited in 
 strong relief by the light of a blazing fire, 
 and of some glaring lamps. It was late in 
 autumn and on a Saturday evening, at which 
 time those persons in humble life, who can- 
 not shave themselves, and whose sense of 
 religion leads them to think that what may 
 be done on the Saturday night ought not 
 to be put off till the Sunday morning, set- 
 tle their weekly account with their beards. 
 There was not story enough in the scene to 
 have supplied Wilkie with a subject for his 
 admirable genius to work upon, but he 
 would certainly have sketched the group if 
 he had seen it as we did. Stopping for a 
 minute, at civil distance from the door, we 
 observed a picture over the fire-place, and 
 it seemed so remarkable that we asked per- 
 mission to go in and look at it more nearly. 
 It was an unfinished portrait, evidently of 
 no common person, and by no common 
 hand ; and as evidently it had been painted 
 many years ago. The head was so nearly 
 finished that nothing seemed wanting to 
 complete the likeness ; the breast and 
 shoulders were faintly sketched in a sort of 
 whitewash which gave them the appearance 
 of being covered with a cloth. Upon asking 
 the master of the shop if he could tell us 
 whose portrait it was, Mambrino who seemed 
 to be a good-natured fellow, and was pleased 
 at our making the inquiry, replied that it 
 had been in his possession many years, 
 before he knew himself. A friend of his 
 had made him a present of it, because, he 
 said, the gentleman looked by his dress as if 
 he was just ready to be shaved, and had an 
 apron under his chin; and therefore his 
 shop was the properest place for it. One 
 day, however, the picture attracted the 
 notice of a passing stranger, as it had done 
 ours, and he recognised it for a portrait of 
 Garrick. It certainly was so ; and any one
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 133 
 
 who knows Garrick's face may satisfy him- 
 self of this when he happens to be in Don- 
 caster. Mambrino's shop is not far from 
 the Old Angel, and on the same side of the 
 street. 
 
 My companion told me that when we 
 entered the shop he had begun to hope it 
 might prove to be a portrait of my old 
 friend : he seemed even to be disappointed 
 that we had not fallen upon such a 
 discovery, supposing that it would have 
 gratified me beyond measure. But upon 
 considering in my own mind if this would 
 have been the case, two questions presented 
 themselves. The first was, whether know- 
 ing as I did that the Doctor never sate for 
 his portrait, and knowing also confidentially 
 the reason why he never could be persuaded 
 to do so, or rather the feeling which pos- 
 sessed him on that subject, knowing these 
 things, I say, the first question was, whether 
 if .1 stolen likeness had been discovered, I 
 ought to have rejoiced in the discovery. For 
 as 1 certainly should have endeavoured to 
 purchase the picture, I should then have 
 had to decide whether or not it was my 
 duty to destroy it ; for which, or, on the 
 other hand, for preserving it, so many 
 strong reasons and so many refined ones, 
 might have been produced, pro and coti, 
 that I could not have done either one or 
 the other, without distrusting the justice of 
 my own determination : if I preserved it, I 
 should continually be self-accused for doing 
 wrong; if I destroyed it, self-reproaches 
 would pursue me for having done what was 
 irretrievable ; so that while I lived I should 
 never have been out of my own Court of 
 Conscience. And let me tell you, Reader, 
 that to be impleaded in that Court is even 
 worse than being brought into the Court of 
 Chancery. 
 
 Secondly, the more curious question oc- 
 curred, whether if there had been a por- 
 trait of Dr. Dove, it would have been like 
 him. 
 
 " That," says Mr. Everydayman, " is as it 
 might happen." 
 
 " Pardon me, Sir ; my question does not 
 regard happening. Chance has nothing to 
 
 do with the matter. The thing queried is 
 whether it could or could not have been." 
 
 And before I proceed to consider that 
 question, I shall take the counsel which 
 Catwg the Wise gave to his pupil Taliesin ; 
 and which by these presents I recommend 
 to every reader who may be disposed to con- 
 sider himself for the time being as mine: 
 
 " Think before thou speakest ; 
 First, what thou shalt speak ; 
 Secondly, why thou shouldest speak ; 
 Thirdly, to whom thou mayest have 
 
 to speak ; 
 Fourthly, about whom (or what) thou 
 
 art to speak ; 
 Fifthly, what will come from what 
 
 thou mayest speak ; 
 Sixthly, what may be the benefit from 
 
 what thou shalt speak ; 
 Seventhly, who may be listening to 
 
 what thou shalt speak. 
 Put thy word on thy fingers' ends before 
 thou speakest it, and turn it these seven 
 ways before thou speakest it ; and there will 
 never come any harm from what thou shalt 
 say ! 
 
 Catwg the Wise delivered this counsel to 
 Taliesin, Chief of Bards, in giving him his 
 blessing." 
 
 CHAPTER LXIII. 
 
 A DISCUSSION CONCERNING THE QUESTION 
 LAST PROPOSED. 
 
 Questo e bene tin de" pib profotuii pnssi 
 Che not habbiamo ancora oggitentato; 
 E non i mica da fiuomini bassi. 
 
 AGNOLO FIRENZUOLA. 
 
 GOOD and satisfactory likenesses may, beyond 
 all doubt, be taken of Mr. Everyday man him- 
 self, and indeed of most persons : and were 
 it otherwise, portrait-painting would be a 
 worse profession than it is, though too many 
 an unfortunate artist has reason bitterly to 
 regret that he possessed the talents which 
 tempted him to engage in it. There are few 
 faces of which even a mediocre painter can- 
 not produce what is called a staring likeness, 
 and Sir Thomas Lawrence a handsome one ;
 
 134 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Sir Thomas is the painter who pleases every 
 body ! 
 
 But there are some few faces with which 
 no artist can succeed so as to please himself, 
 (if he has a true feeling for his own art,) or 
 to content those persons who are best ac- 
 quainted with the living countenance. This 
 is the case where the character predominates 
 over the features, and that character itself is 
 one in which many and seemingly opposite 
 qualities are compounded. Garrick in Abel 
 Drugger, Garrick in Sir John Brute, and 
 Garrick in King Lear, presented three faces 
 as different as were the parts which he per- 
 sonated ; yet the portraits which have been 
 published of him in those parts may be 
 identified by the same marked features, 
 which, flexible as they were rendered by his 
 histrionic power, still under all changes re- 
 tained their strength and their peculiarity. 
 But where the same flexibility exists and 
 the features are not so peculiar or prominent, 
 the character is then given by what is fleet- 
 ing, not by what is fixed ; and it is more 
 difficult to hit a likeness of this kind than to 
 paint a rainbow. 
 
 Now I cannot but think that the Doctor's 
 countenance was of this kind. I can call it 
 to mind as vividly as it appears to me in 
 dreams ; but I could impart no notion of it 
 by description. Words cannot delineate a 
 single feature of his face, such words at 
 least as my knowledge enables me to use. 
 A sculptor, if he had measured it, might 
 have given you technically the relative pro- 
 portions of his face in all its parts : a painter 
 might describe the facial angle, and how the 
 eyes were set, and if they were well-slit, and 
 how the lips were formed, and whether the 
 chin was in the just mean between n.eful 
 length and spectatorial brevity ; and whether 
 he could have passed over Strasburgh Bridge * 
 without hearing any observations made upon 
 his nose. My own opinion is that the sen- 
 tinel would have had something to say upon 
 that subject ; and if he had been a Protestant 
 Soldier (which, if an Alsacian, he was likely 
 
 * He hath a long nose with a bending ridge ; 
 
 It might be worthy of notice on Strasburg Bridge. 
 
 ROHKBT THH KHYMKK'S, &c. 
 
 to be) and accustomed to read the Bible, he 
 might have been reminded by it of the Tower 
 of Lebanon, looking towards Damascus ; for, 
 as an Italian Poet says, 
 
 fn proipettiva 
 Ne mostra tin barbacane sforacctiiato.t 
 
 I might venture also to apply to the Doctor's 
 nose that safe generality by which Alcina's 
 is described in the Orlando Furioso. 
 
 Quindi il naso, per mezzo tl visa scende, 
 Che nan trova I'invidia one Femende. 
 
 But farther than this, which amounts to no 
 more than a doubtful opinion and a faint 
 adumbration, I can say nothing that would 
 assist any reader to form an idea at once 
 definite and just of any part of the Doctor's 
 face. I cannot even positively say what was 
 the colour of his eyes. I only know that 
 mirth sparkled in them, scorn flashed from 
 them, thought beamed in them, benevolence 
 glistened in them ; that they were easily 
 moved to smiles, easily to tears. No baro- 
 meter ever indicated more faithfully the 
 changes of the atmosphere than his counte- 
 nance corresponded to the emotions of his 
 iniud ; but with a mind which might truly 
 be said to have been 
 
 so various, that it seemed to be 
 
 Not one, but all mankind's epitome, 
 
 thus various, not in its principles, or passions, 
 or pursuits, but in its inquiries, and fancies, 
 and speculations, and so alert that nothing 
 seemed to escape i:s ever watchful and active 
 apprehension, with such a mind the coun- 
 tenance that was its faithful index was per- 
 petually varying : its likeness, therefore, at 
 any one moment could but represent a 
 fraction of the character which identified it, 
 and which left upon you an indescribable 
 and inimitable impression resulting from its 
 totality, though, in its totality, it never was 
 and never could be seen. 
 
 Have I made myself understood ? 
 
 I mean to say that the ideal face of any 
 one to whom we are strongly and tenderly 
 attached, that face which is enshrined in 
 our heart of hearts and which comes to us 
 in dreams long after it has mouldered in the 
 
 * MATTIO FRANZESI.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 grave, that face is not the exact mechanical 
 countenance of the beloved person, not the 
 countenance that we ever actually behold, 
 but its abstract, its idealisation, or rather, its 
 realisation; the spirit of the countenance, 
 its essence and its life. And the finer 
 the character, and the more various its in- 
 tellectual powers, the more must this true 
 ftcSwXoj' differ from the most faithful likeness 
 that a painter or a sculptor can produce. 
 
 Therefore I conclude that if there had 
 been a portrait of Dr. Daniel Dove, it could 
 not have been like him, for it was as im- 
 possible to paint the character which con- 
 stituted the identity of his countenance, as 
 to paint the flavour of an apple, or the 
 fragrance of a rose. 
 
 CHAPTER LXIV. 
 
 DEFENCE OF PORTRAIT-PAINTING. A SYSTEM 
 OF MORAL COSMETICS RECOMMENDED TO 
 THE LADIES. GWILLIM. SIR T. LAWRENCE. 
 GEORGE WITHER. APPLICATION TO THE 
 SUBJECT OF THIS WORK. 
 
 Pingitur in tabi'lis form< peritura venvstas, 
 Vivat ut in labulis, quod peril in facie. 
 
 OWEN. 
 
 THE reader will mistake me greatly if he 
 supposes that in showing why it was im- 
 possible there should be a good portrait of 
 Dr. Daniel Dove, I meant to depreciate the 
 art of portrait-painting. I have a very high 
 respect for that art, and no person can be 
 more sincerely persuaded of its moral uses. 
 The great number of portraits in the annual 
 exhibitions of our Royal Academy is so far 
 from displeasing me that I have always re- 
 garded it as a symptom of wholesome teeling 
 in the nation, an unequivocal proof that 
 the domestic and social affections are still 
 existing among us in their proper strength, 
 and cherished as they ought to be. And 
 when I have heard at any time observations 
 of the would-be-witty kind upon the vanity 
 of those who allow their portraits thus to be 
 hung up for public view, I have generally 
 perceived that the remark implied a much 
 greater degree of conceit in the speaker. As 
 for allowing the portrait to be exhibited, 
 
 that is no more than an act of justice to 
 the artist, who has no other means of making 
 his abilities known so well, and of forward- 
 ing himself in his profession. If we look 
 round the rooms at Somerset House, and ob- 
 serve how large a proportion of the portraits 
 represent children, the old, and persons in 
 middle life, we shall see that very few indeed 
 are those which can have been painted, or 
 exhibited for the gratification of personal 
 vanity. 
 
 Sir Thomas Lawrence ministers largely to 
 self-admiration : and yet a few years ripen 
 even the most flattering of his portraits into 
 moral pictures : 
 
 Pt-rc/ie, donne mie care, la belta 
 Ha I' ali al capo, a le spalle ed a' pit : 
 E vola si, che non si scorge piti 
 I'ealigio alcun ne' visi, duvcjii.* 
 
 Helen in her old age, looking at herself in 
 a mirror, is a subject which old sonnetteers 
 were fond of borrowing from the Greek 
 Anthology. Young Ladies ! you who have 
 sate to Sir Thomas, or any artist of his 
 school, I will tell you how your portraits 
 may be rendered more useful monitors to 
 you in your progress through life than the 
 mirror was to Helen, and how you may 
 derive more satisfaction from them when 
 you are grown old. Without supposing that 
 you actually "called up a look" for the 
 painter's use, I may be certain that none of 
 you during the times of sitting permitted 
 any feeling of ill-humour to cast a shade 
 over your countenance ; and that if you 
 were not conscious of endeavouring to put 
 on your best looks for the occasion, the 
 painter was desirous of catching them, and 
 would catch the best he could. The most 
 thoughtless of you need not be told that you 
 cannot retain the charms of youthful beauty, 
 but you may retain the charm of an amiable 
 expression through life : never allow your- 
 selves to be seen with a worse than you wore 
 for the painter! Whenever you feel ill- 
 tempered, remember that you look ugly ; 
 and be assured that every emotion of 
 fretfulness, of ill-humour, of anger, of irri- 
 tability, of impatience, of pride, haughtiness, 
 
 * UlCCUKDETTO.
 
 136 
 
 THE DOCTOlt. 
 
 envy, or malice, any unkind, any uncharit- 
 able, any ungenerous feeling, lessens the 
 likeness to your picture, and not only deforms 
 you while it lasts, but leaves its trace be- 
 hind; for the effect of the passions upon the 
 face is more rapid and more certain than 
 that of time. 
 
 " His counsel," says Gwillim the Pursui- 
 vant, " was very behoveful, who advised all 
 gentlewomen often to look on glasses, that 
 so, if they saw themselves beautiful, they 
 might be stirred up to make their minds as 
 fair by virtue as their faces were by nature ; 
 but if deformed, they might make amends 
 for their outward deformity, with their intern 
 pulchritude and gracious qualities. And 
 those that are proud of their beauty should 
 consider that their own hue is as brittle as 
 the glass wherein they see it ; and that they 
 carry on their shoulders nothing but a skull 
 wrapt in skin which one day will be loath- 
 some to be looked on." 
 
 The conclusion of this passage accorded 
 not with the Doctor's feelings. He thought 
 that whatever tended to connect frightful 
 and loathsome associations with the solemn 
 and wholesome contemplation of mortality, 
 ought to be avoided as injudicious and in- 
 jurious. So too with regard to age : if it is 
 dark and unlovely " the fault," he used to 
 say, " is generally our own ; Nature may 
 indeed make it an object of compassion, but 
 not of dislike, unless we ourselves render it 
 so. It is not of necessity that we grow ugly 
 as well as old." Donne says 
 
 No spring, nor summer's beauty hath such grace 
 As I have seen iu one autumnal face ; 
 
 he was probably speaking of his wife, for 
 Donne was happy in his marriage, as he 
 deserved to be. There is a beauty which, 
 as the Duchess of Newcastle said of her 
 mother's, is " beyond the reach of time ; " 
 that beauty depends upon the mind, upon the 
 temper, Young Ladies, upon yourselves ! 
 
 George Wither wrote under the best of 
 his portraits, 
 
 What I WAS, is passed by ; 
 
 What I AM, away doth fly ; 
 
 What I SHALL BE, none do see; ' 
 
 Yet in THAT my beauties be. 
 
 He commenced also a Meditation upon 
 that portrait in these impressive lines : 
 
 When I behold my Picture and perceive 
 
 How vain it is our Portraitures to leave 
 
 In lines and shadows, (which make shews to-day 
 
 Of that which will to-morrow fade away,) 
 
 And think what mean resemblances at best 
 
 Are by mechanic instruments exprest, 
 
 I thought it better much to leave behind me, 
 
 Somedraught, ID which my living friends might find me, 
 
 The same I am, in that which will remain 
 
 Till all is ruined and repaired again. 
 
 In the same poem he says, 
 
 A Picture, though with most exactness made, 
 Is nothing but the shadow of a shade. 
 For even our living bodies, (though they seem 
 To others more, or more in our esteem,) 
 Are but the shadow of that Heal Being, 
 Which doth extend beyond the fleshly seeing, 
 And cannot be discerned, until we rise 
 Immortal objects for immortal eyes. 
 
 Like most men, George Wither, as he 
 grew more selfish, was tolerably successful in 
 deceiving himself as to his own motives and 
 state of mind. If ever there was an honest 
 enthusiast, he had been one ; afterwards he 
 feathered his nest with the spoils of the 
 Loyalists and of the Bishops ; and during 
 this prosperous part of his turbulent lite 
 there must have been times when the re- 
 membrance of his former self brought with 
 it more melancholy and more awful thoughts 
 than the sight of his own youthful portrait, 
 in its fantastic garb, or of that more sober 
 resemblance upon which his meditation was 
 composed. 
 
 Such a portraiture of the inner or real 
 being as Wither in his better mind wished 
 to leave in his works, for those who knew 
 and loved him, such a portraiture am I en- 
 deavouring to compose of Dr. Dove, wherein 
 the world may see what he was, and so be- 
 come acquainted with his intellectual linea- 
 ments, and with those peculiarities, which, 
 forming as it were the idiosyncrasy of his 
 moral constitution, contributed in no small 
 degree to those ever-varying lights and 
 shades of character and feeling in his livi.ig 
 countenance, which, I believe, would have 
 baffled the best painter's art. 
 
 Pot voi sapete quanta egli e dabbene. 
 Com' ha giudizio, ingegno, e discrezione 
 Come conosce il vero, it bello, e V bene.* 
 
 * BERNI.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 137 
 
 CHAPTER LXV. 
 
 SOCIETY OF A COUNTRY TOWN. SUCH A 
 TOWN A MORE FAVOURABLE HABITAT FOR 
 SUCH A PERSON AS DR. DOVE THAN LONDON 
 WOULD HAVE BEEN. 
 
 Be then thine own home, and in thyself dwell ; 
 
 Inn any whero ; 
 
 And seeing the snail, which every where doth roam, 
 
 Carrying his own home still, still is at home, 
 
 Follow (for he is easy paced) this snail ; 
 
 Be thine own Falace, or the World's thy jail. 
 
 DONNE. 
 
 SUCH then as Daniel Dove was in the 
 twenty-sixth year of his age we are now to 
 consider him, settled at Doncaster, and with 
 his way of life chosen, for better for worse, 
 in all respects ; except, as my female readers 
 will remember, that he was neither married, 
 nor engaged, nor Likely to be so. 
 
 One of the things for which he used to 
 thank God was that the world had not been 
 all before him where to choose, either as to 
 calling or place, but that both had been well 
 chosen for him. To choose upon such just 
 motives as can leave no rational cause for 
 after repentance requires riper judgment 
 than ought to be expected at the age when 
 the choice is to be made ; it is best for us 
 therefore at a time of life when, though per- 
 haps we might choose well, it is impossible 
 that we could choose wisely, to acquiesce in 
 the determination of others, who have know- 
 ledge and experience to direct them. Far 
 happier are they who always know what 
 they are to do, than they who have to 
 determine what they will do. 
 
 Bisognafar quel cfie si devefare, 
 E non gia tutto qucllo che si vuole.* 
 
 Thus he was accustomed to think upon thb 
 subject. 
 
 But was he well placed at Doncaster ? 
 
 It matters not where those men are placed, 
 who, as South says, " have souls so dull and 
 stupid as to serve for little else but to keep 
 their bodies from putrefaction." Ordinary 
 people, whether their lot be cast in town or 
 country, in the metropolis or in a village, 
 
 PANANTI. 
 
 will go on in the ordinary way, conforming 
 their habits to those of the place. It matters 
 nothing more to those who live less in the 
 little world about them, than in a world of 
 their own, with the whole powers of the head 
 and of the heart too (if they have one) in- 
 tently fixed upon some favourite pursuit: 
 if they have a heart I say, for it sometimes 
 happens that where there is an excellent 
 head, the heart is nothing more than a piece 
 of hard flesh. In this respect, the highest 
 and the meanest intellects are, in a certain 
 sense, alike self-sufficient ; that is, they are 
 so far independent of adventitious aid, that 
 they derive little advantage from society and 
 suffer nothing from the want of it. But 
 there are others for whose mental improve- 
 ment, or at least mental enjoyment, collision, 
 and sympathy, and external excitement seem 
 almost indispensable. Just as large towns 
 are the only places in which first-rate work- 
 men in any handicraft business can find em- 
 ployment, so men of letters and of science 
 generally appear to think that nowhere but 
 in a metropolis can they find the oppor- 
 tunities which they desire of improvement 
 or of display. These persons are wise in 
 their generation, but they are not children 
 of light. 
 
 Among such persons it may perhaps be 
 thought that our friend should be classed ; 
 and it cannot be doubted that, in a more 
 conspicuous field of action, he might have 
 distinguished himself, and obtained a splendid 
 fortune. But for distinction he never enter- 
 tained the slightest desire, and with the 
 goods of fortune which had fallen to his 
 share he was perfectly contented. But was 
 he favourably situated for his intellectual 
 advancement? which, if such an inquiry 
 had come before him concerning any other 
 person, is what he would have considered to 
 be the question-issimus. I answer without 
 the slightest hesitation, that he was. 
 
 In London he might have mounted a 
 Physician's wig, have ridden in his carriage, 
 have attained the honours of the College, 
 and added F.R.S. to his professional initials. 
 He might, if Fortune opening her eyes had 
 chosen to favour desert, have become Sir
 
 138 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Daniel Dove, Bart., Physician to his Majesty. 
 But he would then have been a very different 
 person from the Dr. Dove of Doncaster, 
 whose memory will be transmitted to pos- 
 terity in these volumes, and he would have 
 been much less worthy of being remembered. 
 The course of such a life would have left him 
 no leisure for himself; and metropolitan 
 society, in rubbing off the singularities of 
 his character, would just in the same degree 
 have taken from its strength. 
 
 It is a pretty general opinion that no 
 society can be so bad as that of a small 
 country town ; and certain it is that such 
 towns offer little or no choice. You must 
 take what they have and make the best of 
 it. But there are not many persons to 
 whom circumstances allow much latitude of 
 choice anywhere, except in those public 
 places, as they are called, where the idle and 
 the dissipated, like birds of a feather, flock 
 together. In any settled place of residence 
 men are circumscribed by station and oppor- 
 tunities, and just as much in the capital as 
 in a provincial town. No one will be dis- 
 posed to regret this, if he observes, where 
 men have most power of choosing their 
 society, how little benefit is derived from it, 
 or, in other words, with how little wisdom it 
 is used. 
 
 After all, the common varieties of human 
 character will be found distributed in much 
 the same proportion everywhere, and in most 
 places there will be a sprinkling of the un- 
 common ones. Everywhere you may find 
 the selfish and the sensual, the carking and 
 the careful, the cunning and the credulous, 
 the worldling and the reckless. But kind 
 hearts are also everywhere to be found, 
 right intentions, sober minds, and private 
 virtues, for the sake of which let us hope 
 that God may continue to spare this hitherto 
 highly-favoured nation, notwithstanding the 
 fearful amount of our public and manifold 
 offences. 
 
 The society then of Doncaster, in the 
 middle of the last century, was like that of 
 any other country town which was neither 
 the seat of manufactures, nor of a Bishop's 
 see ; in either of which more information of 
 
 a peculiar kind would have been found, 
 more active minds, or more cultivated ones. 
 There was enough of those eccentricities for 
 which the English above all other people are 
 remarkable, those aberrations of intellect 
 which just fail to constitute legal insanity, 
 and which, according to their degree, excite 
 amusement, or compassion. Nor was the 
 town without its full share of talents ; these 
 there was little to foster and encourage, but 
 happily there was nothing to pervert and 
 stimulate them to a premature and mis- 
 chievous activity. 
 
 In one respect it more resembled an epi- 
 scopal than a trading city. The four kings 
 and their respective suits of red and black 
 were not upon more frequent service in the 
 precincts of a cathedral, than in the good 
 town of Doncaster. A stranger who had 
 been invited to spend the evening with a 
 family there, to which he had been intro- 
 duced, was asked by the master of the house 
 to take a card as a matter of course ; upon 
 his replying that he did not play at cards, 
 the company looked at him with astonish- 
 ment, and his host exclaimed " What, Sir ! 
 not play at cards ? the Lord help you ! " 
 
 I will not say the Lord helped Daniel 
 Dove, because there would be an air of 
 irreverence in the expression, the case being 
 one in which he, or any one, might help him- 
 self. He knew enough of all the games 
 which were then in vogue to have played at 
 them, if he had so thought good; and he 
 would have been as willing, sometimes, in 
 certain moods of mind, to have taken his 
 seat at a card-table, in houses where card- 
 playing did not form part of the regular 
 business of life, as to have listened to a tune 
 on the old-fashioned spinnet, or the then 
 new-fashioned harpsichord. But that which 
 as an occasional pastime he might have 
 thought harmless and even wholesome, 
 seemed to him something worse than folly 
 when it was made a kill-time, the serious 
 occupation for which people were brought 
 together, the only one at which some of 
 them ever appeared to give themselves the 
 trouble of thinking. And seeing its effects 
 upon the temper, and how nearly this habit
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 139 
 
 was connected with a spirit of gambling, he 
 thought that cards had not without reason 
 been called the Devil's Books. 
 
 I shall not therefore introduce the reader 
 to a Doncaster card-party, by way of show- 
 ing him the society of the place. The Mrs. 
 Shuffles, Mrs. Cuts, and Miss Dealems, the 
 Mr. Tittles and Mrs. Tattles, the Hum- 
 drums and the Prateapaces, the Fribbles 
 and the Feebles, the Perts and the Prims, 
 the Littlewits and the Longtongues, the 
 Heavyheads and the Broadbelows, are to be 
 found everywhere. 
 
 " It is quite right," says one of the 
 Guessers at Truth, " that there should be a 
 heavy duty on cards : not only on moral 
 grounds; not only because they act on a 
 social party like a torpedo, silencing the 
 merry voice and numbing the play of the 
 features ; not only to still the hunger of the 
 public purse, which, reversing the qualities 
 of Fortunatus's, is always empty, however 
 much you may put into it ; but also because 
 every pack of cards is a malicious libel on 
 courts, and on the world, seeing that the 
 trumpery with number one at the head, is 
 the best part of them ; and that it gives 
 kings and queens no other companions than 
 knaves." 
 
 CHAPTER LXVL 
 
 MB. COPLEY OF NETHERHALL. SOCIETY AT 
 HIS HOUSE. DRUMMOND. BUKGH. GRAY. 
 MASON. MILLER THE ORGANIST AND HIS- 
 TORIAN OF DONCASTER. HERSCHEL. 
 
 All worldly joys go less 
 To the one joy of doing kindnesses. 
 
 HERBERT. 
 
 THERE was one house in Doncaster in 
 which cards were never introduced ; this 
 house was Netherhall, the seat of Mr. 
 Copley ; and there Dr. Dove had the ad- 
 vantage of such society as was at that 
 time very rarely, and is still not often, to be 
 enjoyed anywhere. 
 
 The Copleys are one of the most ancient 
 
 families in Doncaster : Robert Gro&teteste, 
 one of the most eminent of our English 
 churchmen before the Reformation, was a 
 branch from their stock. Robert Copley, 
 who in the middle of the last century re- 
 presented the family, was brought up at 
 Westminster School, and while there took, 
 what is very unusual for boys at West- 
 minster or any other school to take, lessons 
 in music. Dr. Crofts was his master, and 
 made him, as has been said by a very com- 
 petent judge, a very good performer in 
 thorough-bass on the harpsichord. He 
 attempted painting also, but not with equal 
 success ; the age of painting in this country 
 had not then arrived. 
 
 Mr. Copley's income never exceeded 
 twelve hundred a-year ; but this which is 
 still a liberal income, was then a large one, 
 in the hands of a wise and prudent man. 
 Netherhall was the resort of intellectual 
 men, in whose company he delighted ; and 
 the poor were fed daily from his table. 
 Drummond, afterwards Archbishop of York, 
 was his -frequent guest; so was Mason; so 
 was Mason's friend Dr. Burgh ; and Gray 
 has sometimes been entertained there. 
 One of the " strong names " of the King 
 of Dahomey means, when interpreted, 
 " wherever I rub, I leave my scent." In 
 a better sense than belongs to this meta- 
 phorical boast of the power and the dis- 
 position to be terrible, it may be said of 
 such men as Gray and Mason that wherever 
 they have resided, or have been entertained 
 as abiding guests, an odour of their memory 
 remains. Who passes by the house at 
 Streatham that was once Mrs. Thrale's with- 
 out thinking of Dr. Johnson ? 
 
 During many years Mr. Copley enter- 
 tained himself and his friends with a weekly 
 concert at Netherhall, he himself, Sir Brian 
 Cooke and some of his family, and Dr. Miller 
 the organist, and afterwards Historian of 
 Doncaster, being performers. Miller, who 
 was himself a remarkable person, had the 
 fortune to introduce a more remarkable one 
 to these concerts ; it is an interesting anec- 
 dote in the history of that person, of Miller, 
 and of Doncaster.
 
 140 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 About the year 1760 as Miller was dining 
 at Pontefract with the officers of the Durham 
 militia, one of them, knowing his love of 
 music, told him they had a young German 
 in their band as a performer on the hautboy, 
 who had only been a few months in Eng- 
 land, and yet spoke English almost as well 
 as a native, and who was also an excellent 
 performer on the violin ; the officer added, 
 that if Miller would come into another room 
 this German should entertain him with a 
 solo. The invitation was gladly accepted, 
 and Miller heard a solo of Giardini's exe- 
 cuted in a manner that surprised him. He 
 afterwards took an opportunity of having 
 some private conversation with the young 
 musician, and asked him whether he had 
 engaged himself for any long period to the 
 Durham militia. The answer was, " only 
 from month to month." " Leave them 
 then," said the organist, " and come and 
 live with me. I am a single man, and think 
 we shall be happy together ; and doubtless 
 your merit will soon entitle you to a more 
 eligible situation." The offer was accepted 
 as frankly as it was made : and the reader 
 may imagine with what satisfaction Dr. 
 Miller must have remembered this act of 
 generous feeling, when he hears that this 
 young German was Herschel the Astro- 
 nomer. 
 
 "My humble mansion," says Miller, 
 " consisted at that time but of two rooms. 
 However, poor as I was, my cottage con- 
 tained a small library of well-chosen books ; 
 and it must appear singular that a foreigner 
 who had been so short a time in England 
 should understand even the peculiarities of 
 the language so well, as to fix upon Swift 
 for his favourite author." He took an early 
 opportunity of introducing his new friend 
 at Mr. Copley's concerts ; the first violin 
 was resigned to him : and never, says the 
 organist, had I heard the concertos of Corelli, 
 Geminiani and Avison, or the overtures of 
 Handel, performed more chastely, or more 
 according to the original intention of the 
 composers than by Mr. Herschel. I soon 
 lost my companion : his fame was presently 
 spread abroad : he had the offer of pupils, 
 
 and was solicited to lead the public concerts 
 both at Wakeiield and Halifax. A new 
 organ for the parish church of Halifax was 
 built about this time, and Herschel was one 
 of the seven candidates for the organist's 
 place. They drew lots how they were to 
 perform in succession. Herschel drew the 
 third, the second fell to Mr., afterwards Dr., 
 Wainwright of Manchester, whose finger 
 was so rapid that old Snetzler, the organ- 
 builder, ran about the church, exclaiming, 
 Te Tevel, te Tevel ! he run over te keys like 
 one cat; he will not give my piphes room 
 for to shpeak. " During Mr. Wainwright's 
 performance," says Miller, " I was standing 
 in the middle aisle with Herschel ; what 
 chance have you, said I, to follow this man ? " 
 He replied, " I don't know ; I am sure 
 fingers will not do." On which he ascended 
 the organ loft, and produced from the organ 
 so uncommon a fulness, such a volume of 
 slow solemn harmony, that I could by no 
 means account for the effect. After this short 
 extempore effusion, he finished with the old 
 hundredth-psalm-tune, which he played 
 better than his opponent. Ay, ay, cried old 
 Snetzler, tish is very goot, very goot indeet ; 
 I vil luf tish man, for he gives my piphes room 
 for to shpeak. Having afterwards asked 
 Mr. Herschel by what means, in the begin- 
 ning of his performance, he produced so un- 
 common an effect, he replied, " I told you 
 fingers would not do ! " and producing two 
 pieces of lead from his waistcoat pocket, 
 " one of these," said he, " I placed on the 
 lowest key of the organ, and the other upon 
 the octave above ; thus by accommodating 
 the harmony, I produced the effect of four 
 hands instead of two." 
 
 CHAPTER LXVII. 
 
 A MYTHOLOGICAL STOBY MORALISED. 
 
 II faut mettre let fables en presse pour en tirer quelque 
 sue de verite. GARASSE. 
 
 IT is related of the great mythological 
 personage Baly, that Veeshnoo, when he 
 dispossessed him of his impious power,
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 141 
 
 allowed him, in mitigation of his lot, to make 
 his choice, whether he would go to the Swer- 
 ga, and take five ignorant persons with him 
 who were to be his everlasting companions 
 there, or to Padalon and have five Pundits 
 in his company. Baly preferred the good 
 company with the bad quarters. 
 
 That that which is called good company 
 has led many a man to a place which it is 
 not considered decorous to mention before 
 " ears polite," is a common, and, therefore, 
 the more an awful truth. The Swerga and 
 Padalon are the Hindoo Heaven and Hell ; 
 and if the Hindoo fable were not obviously 
 intended to extol the merits of their Pundits, 
 or learned men, as the missionary Ward 
 explains the title, it might with much seem- 
 ing likelihood bear this moral interpretation, 
 that Baly retained the pride of knowledge 
 even when convinced by the deprivation of 
 his power that the pride of power was vanity, 
 and in consequence drew upon himself a 
 further punishment by his choice. 
 
 For although Baly, because of the righte- 
 ousness with which he had used his power, 
 was so far favoured by the Divinity whom he 
 had offended, that he was not condemned 
 to undergo any of those torments of which 
 there was as rich an assortment and as 
 choice a variety in Padalon, as ever monkish 
 imagination revelled in devising, it was at 
 the best a dreadful place of abode and so 
 it would appear if Turner were to paint a 
 picture of its Diamond City from Southey's 
 description. I say Turner, because, though 
 the subject might seem more adapted to 
 Martin's cast of mind, Turner's colouring 
 would well represent the fiery streams and 
 the sulphureous atmosphere; and that colour- 
 ing being transferred from earthly landscapes 
 to its proper place, his rich genius would 
 have full scope for its appropriate display. 
 Baly, no doubt, as a state prisoner who was 
 to be treated with the highest consideration 
 as well as with the utmost indulgence, would 
 have all the accommodations that Yamen 
 could afford him. There he and the Pundits 
 might 
 
 reason high 
 
 Of Proridence, foreknowledge, will, and fate, 
 
 Fix'd fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute, 
 And find no end, in wandering mazes lost. 
 
 They might argue there of good and evil, 
 
 Of happiness and final misery, 
 
 Passion and apathy, and glory and shame ; 
 
 and such discourses possibly 
 
 with a pleasing sorcery might charm 
 Pain for awhile and anguish, and excite 
 Fallacious hope, or arm the obdured breast 
 With stubborn patience as with triple steel. 
 
 But it would only be for awhile that they 
 could be thus beguiled by it, for it is 
 Vain wisdom all, and false philosophy t 
 
 it would be only for awhile, and they were 
 there for a time which in prospect must 
 appear all but endless. The Pundits would 
 not thank him for bringing them there ; 
 Baly himself must continually wish he were 
 breathing the heavenly air of the Swerga 
 in the company of ignorant but happy asso- 
 ciates, and he would regret his unwise choice 
 even more bitterly than he remembered the 
 glorious city wherein he had reigned in his 
 magnificence. 
 
 He made a great mistake. If he had gone 
 with the ignorant to Heaven he would have 
 seen them happy there, and partaken their 
 happiness, though they might not have been 
 able to derive any gratification from his 
 wisdom ; which said wisdom, peradventure, 
 he himself when he was there might have 
 discovered to be but foolishness. It is only 
 in the company of the good that real enjoy- 
 ment is to be found ; any other society is 
 hollow and heartless. You may be excited 
 by the play of wit, by the collision of ambi- 
 tious spirits, and by the brilliant exhibition 
 of self-confident power ; but the satisfaction 
 ends with the scene. Far unlike this is the 
 quiet confiding intercourse of sincere minds 
 and friendly hearts, knowing, and loving, and 
 esteeming each other ; and such intercourse 
 our philosopher enjoyed in Doncaster. 
 
 Edward Miller, the Organist, was a per- 
 son very much after Daniel Dove's own 
 heart. He was a warm-hearted, simple- 
 hearted, right-hearted man : an enthusiast 
 in his profession, yet not undervaluing, much 
 less despising, other pursuits. The one Doc-
 
 142 
 
 THE DOCTO1J. 
 
 tor knew as little of music as the other did 
 of medicine ; but Dr. Dove listened to Mil- 
 ler's performance with great pleasure, and 
 Dr. Miller, when he was indisposed, took 
 Dove's physic with perfect faith. 
 
 This musician was brother to William 
 Miller, the bookseller, well known in the 
 early part of the present century as a pub- 
 lisher of splendid works, to whose flourish- 
 ing business in Albemarle Street the more 
 flourishing John Murray succeeded. In the 
 worldly sense of the word the musician was 
 far less fortunate than the bibliopole, a doc- 
 torate in his own science being the height 
 of the honours to which he attained, and 
 the place of organist at Doncaster the height 
 of the preferment. A higher station was 
 once presented to his hopes. The Marquis 
 of Rockingham applied in his behalf for the 
 place of Master of his Majesty's band of 
 musicians, then vacated by the death of Dr. 
 Boyce ; and the Duke of Manchester, who 
 was at that time Lord Chamberlain, would 
 have given it him if the King had not par- 
 ticularly desired him to bestow it on Mr. 
 Stanley, the celebrated blind performer on 
 the organ. Dr. Miller was more gratified 
 by this proof of the Marquis's good-will to- 
 wards him than disappointed at its failure. 
 Had the application succeeded, he would not 
 have written the History of Doncaster ; nor 
 would he have borne a part in a well-intended 
 and judicious attempt at reforming our 
 church psalmody, in which part of our church 
 service reformation is greatly needed.* This 
 meritorious attempt was made when George 
 Hay Drummond, whose father had been 
 Archbishop of York, was Vicar of Doncas- 
 ter, having been presented to that vicarage 
 in 1785, on the demise of Mr. Hatfield. 
 
 At that time the Parish Clerk used there, 
 as in all other parish churches, to choose what 
 psalm should be sung " to the praise and 
 glory of God," and what portions of it ; and 
 considering himself as a much more impor- 
 tant person in this department of his office 
 
 * " It is gad to hear what whining, toting, yelling, or 
 screeching there is in many country congregations, as if 
 the people were affrighted or distracted." Thomas 
 Mact't Mutic't Monument, p. 3. 
 
 than the organist, the only communication 
 upon the subject which he held with Dr. 
 Miller was to let him know what tune he 
 must play, and how often he was to repeat 
 it. " Strange absurdity ! " says Miller. 
 " How could the organist, placed in this de- 
 grading situation, properly perform his part 
 of the church service ? Not knowing the 
 words, it was impossible for him to accom- 
 modate his music to the various sentiments 
 contained in different stanzas, consequently 
 his must be a mere random performance, 
 and frequently producing improper effects." 
 This, however, is what only a musician would 
 feel ; but it happened one Sunday that the 
 clerk gave out some verses which were either 
 ridiculously inapplicable to the day, or bore 
 some accidental and ludicrous application, 
 so that many of the congregation did not 
 refrain from laughter. Mr. Drummond upon 
 this, for he was zealously attentive to all 
 the duties of his calling, said to Miller, 
 " that in order to prevent any such occur- 
 rence in future he would make a selection 
 of the best verses in each psalm, from the 
 authorised version of Tate and Brady, and 
 arrange them for every Sunday and festival 
 throughout the year, provided he, the organ- 
 ist, who was perfectly qualified for such a 
 task, would adapt, them to proper music." 
 To such a man as Miller this was the great- 
 est gratification that could have been 
 afforded ; and it proved also to be the great- 
 est service that was ever rendered to him 
 in the course of his life ; for, through Mr. 
 Drummond's interest, the King and the 
 Bishop patronised the work, and nearly five 
 thousand copies were subscribed for, the list 
 of subscribers being, it is believed, longer 
 than had ever been obtained for any musical 
 publication in this kingdom. 
 
 Strange to say, nothing of this kind had 
 been attempted before ; for the use of 
 psalmody in our churches was originally no 
 part of the service ; but having, as it were, 
 crept in, and been at first rather suffered 
 than encouraged, and afterwards allowed 
 and permitted only, not enjoined, no provi- 
 sion seems ever to have been made for its 
 proper or even decent performance. And
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 1-13 
 
 when an arrangement like this of Mr. Drum- 
 inond's had been prepared, and Dr. Miller, 
 with sound judgement, had adapted it, 
 where that could be done, to the most popu- 
 lar of the old and venerable melodies which 
 had been so long in possession, it may seem 
 more strange that it should not have been 
 brought into general use. This I say might 
 be thought strange, if any instance of that 
 supine and sinful negligence which permits 
 the continuance of old and acknowledged 
 defects in the church establishment, and 
 church service, could be thought so. 
 
 Mr. Drummond had probably been led to 
 think upon this subject by Mason's conver- 
 sation, and by his Essays, historical and 
 critical, on English Church Music. Mason 
 who had a poet's ear and eye was ambitious 
 of becoming both a musician and a painter. 
 According to Miller he succeeded better in 
 his musical than in his pictorial attempts, 
 for he performed decently on the harp- 
 sichord ; but in painting he never arrived 
 even at a degree of mediocrity, and in music 
 it was not possible to teach him the prin- 
 ciples of composition, Miller and others 
 having at his own desire attempted in vain 
 to instruct him. Nevertheless, such a man, 
 however superficial his knowledge of the 
 art, could not but feel and reason justly 
 upon its use and abuse in our Church 
 Service ; and he was for restricting the 
 organist much in the same way that Drum- 
 mond and Miller were for restraining the 
 clerk. For after observing that what is 
 called the voluntary requires an innate in- 
 ventive faculty, which is certainly not the 
 lot of many ; and that the happy few who 
 possess it will not at all times be able to 
 restrain it within the bounds which reason 
 and, in this case, religion would prescribe, 
 he said, " it was to be wished therefore that 
 in our established church extempore playing 
 were as much discountenanced as extempore 
 praying ; and that the organist were as 
 closely obliged in this solo and separate part 
 of his office to keep to set forms, as the 
 officiating minister; or as he himself is when 
 accompanying the choir in an anthem, or a 
 parochial congregation in a psalm." He 
 
 would have indulged him, however, with a 
 considerable quantity of these set forms, and 
 have allowed him, if he approached in some 
 degree to Rousseau's high character of a 
 Preluder, " to descant on certain single 
 grave texts which Tartini, Geminiani, Co- 
 relli or Handel would abundantly furnish, 
 and which may be found at least of equal 
 elegance and propriety in the Largo and 
 Adagio movements of Haydn or Pleyel." 
 
 Whatever Miller may have thought of 
 this proposal, there was a passage in Mason's 
 Essay in favour of voluntaries which was in 
 perfect accord with Dr. Dove's notions. 
 " Prompt and as it were casual strains," says 
 the Poet, " which do not fix the attention of 
 the hearer, provided they are the produce 
 of an original fancy, which scorns to debase 
 itself by imitating common and trivial melo- 
 dies, are of all others the best adapted to 
 induce mental serenity. We in some sort 
 listen to such music as we do to the pleasing 
 murmur of a neighbouring brook, the whisper 
 of the passing breeze, or the distant war- 
 blings of the lark and nightingale ; and if 
 agreeable natural voices have the power of 
 soothing the contemplative mind, without 
 interrupting its contemplations, simple 
 musical effusions must assuredly have that 
 power in a superior degree. All that is to 
 be attended to by the organist is to preserve 
 such pleasing simplicity ; and this musical 
 measures will ever have, if they are neither 
 strongly accented, nor too regularly rhyth- 
 mical. But when this is the case, they cease 
 to soothe us, because they begin to affect us. 
 Add to this that an air replete with short 
 cadences and similar passages is apt to fix 
 itself too strongly on the memory ; whereas 
 a merely melodious or harmonical movement 
 glides, as it were, through the ear, awakens 
 a transient pleasing sensation, but leaves 
 behind it no lasting impression. Its effect 
 ceases, when its impulse on the auditory 
 nerve ceases; an impulse strong enough 
 to dispel from the mind all eating care (to 
 use our great Poet's own expression), but in 
 no sort to rouse or ruffle any of its faculties, 
 save those only which attend truly devotional 
 duty."
 
 144 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 This passage agreed with some of the 
 Doctor's peculiar notions. He felt the 
 power of devotional music both in such 
 preparatory strains as Mason has here de- 
 scribed, and in the more exciting emotions 
 of congregational psalmody. And being 
 thus sensible of the religious uses which 
 may be drawn from music, he was the more 
 easily led to entertain certain speculations 
 concerning its application in the treatment 
 of diseases, as will be related hereafter. 
 
 CHAPTER LXVIII. 
 
 ECCENTRIC PERSONS, WHY APPARENTLY MORE 
 COMMON IN ENGLAND THAN IN OTHER 
 COUNTRIES. HARRY BINGLEY. 
 
 Blest are those 
 
 Whose blood and judgement are so well commingled, 
 That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger 
 To sound what stop she please. 
 
 HAMLET. 
 
 THERE is a reason why eccentricity of cha- 
 racter seems to be much more frequent in 
 England than in other countries. 
 
 Here some reflective reader, methinks, 
 interrupts me with " seems, good Author." 
 
 " Ay, and it is !" 
 
 Have patience, good reader, and hear me 
 to the end I There is a reason why it seems 
 so; and the reason is, because all such 
 eccentricities are recorded here in news- 
 papers and magazines, so that none of them 
 are lost ; and the most remarkable are 
 brought forward from time to time, in 
 popular compilations. A collection of what 
 is called Eccentric Biography is to form a 
 portion of Mr. Murray's Family Library. 
 
 But eccentric characters probably are 
 more frequent among us than among most 
 other nations ; and for this there are two 
 causes. The first is to be found in that 
 spirit of independence upon which the Eng- 
 lish pride themselves, and which produces 
 a sort of Drawcansir-like bravery in men 
 who are eccentrically inclined. It becomes 
 a perverse sort of pleasure in them to act 
 preposterously, for the sake of showing that 
 
 they have a right to do as they please, and 
 the courage to exercise that right, let the 
 rest of the world think what it will of their 
 conduct. 
 
 The other reason is that mad-houses very 
 insufficiently supply the place of convents, 
 and very ill also. It might almost be ques- 
 tioned whether convents do not well nigh 
 make amends to humanity for their manifold 
 mischiefs and abominations, by the relief 
 which they afford as asylums for insanity, 
 in so many of its forms and gradations. They 
 afford a cure also in many of its stages, and 
 precisely upon the same principle on which 
 the treatment in mad-houses is founded : 
 but oh ! how differently is that principle 
 applied ! That passive obedience to another's 
 will which in the one case is exacted by 
 authority acting through fear, and oftentimes 
 enforced by no scrupulous or tender means, 
 is in the other required as a religious duty, 
 an act of virtue, a voluntary and ac- 
 cepted sacrifice, a good work which will 
 be carried to the patient's account in the 
 world to come. They who enter a convent 
 are to have no will of their own there ; they 
 renounce it solemnly upon their admission ; 
 and when this abnegation is sincerely made, 
 the chief mental cause of insanity is removed. 
 For assuredly in most cases madness is more 
 frequently a disease of the will than of the 
 intellect. When Diabolus appeared before 
 the town of Mansoul, and made his oration 
 to the citizens at Ear- Gate, Lord Will-be- 
 will was one of the first that was for con- 
 senting to his words, and letting him into 
 the town. 
 
 We have no such asylums in which mad- 
 ness and fatuity receive every possible 
 alleviation, while they are at the same time 
 subjected to the continual restraint which 
 their condition requires. They are wanted 
 also for repentant sinners, who when they 
 are awakened to a sense of their folly, and 
 their guilt, and their danger, would fain find 
 a place of religious retirement, wherein they 
 might pass the remainder of their days in 
 preparing for death. Lord Goring, the most 
 profligate man of his age, who by his pro- 
 fligacy, as much as by his frequent miscou-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 duct, rendered irreparable injury to the 
 cause which he intended to ssrve, retired to 
 Spain after the ruin of that cause, and there 
 ended his days as a Dominican Friar. If 
 there be any record of him in the Chro- 
 nicles of the Order, the account ought to 
 be curious at least, if not edifying. But it 
 is rather (for his own sake) to be hoped 
 than supposed that he did not hate and 
 despise the follies and the frauds of the fra- 
 ternity into which he had entered more 
 heartily than the pomps and vanities of the 
 world which he had left. 
 
 On the other hand wherever convents are 
 among the institutions of the land, not to 
 speak of those poor creatures who are thrust 
 into them against their will, or with only a 
 mockery of freedom in the choice, it must 
 often happen that persons enter them in 
 some fit of disappointment, or resentment, 
 or grief, and find themselves, when the first 
 bitterness of passion is past, imprisoned for 
 life by their own rash, but irremediable act 
 and deed. The woman, who, when untoward 
 circumstances have prevented her from mar- 
 rying the man she loves, marries one for 
 whom she has no affection, is more likely 
 (poor as her chance is) to find contentment 
 and perhaps happiness, than if for the same 
 cause she had thrown herself into a nunnery. 
 Yet this latter is the course to which, if 
 she were a Roman Catholic, her thoughts 
 would perhaps preferably at first have turned, 
 and to which they would probably be di- 
 rected by her .confessor. 
 
 Men who are weary of the ways of the 
 world, or disgusted with them, have more 
 licence, as well as more resources than 
 women. If they do not enter upon some 
 dangerous path of duty, or commence 
 wanderers, they may choose for themselves 
 an eccentric path, in which, if their habits 
 are not such as expose them to insult, or if 
 their means are sufficient to secure them 
 against it, they are not likely to be molested, 
 provided they have no relations whose 
 interest it may be to apply for a statute of 
 lunacy against them. 
 
 A gentleman of this description well known 
 in London towards the close of George the 
 
 Second's reign by the name of Harry Bing- 
 ley, came in the days of Dr. Dove to reside 
 upon his estate in the parish of Bolton-upon- 
 Derne near Doncaster. He had figured as 
 an orator and politician in coffee-houses at 
 the west end of the town, and enjoyed the 
 sort of notoriety which it was then his am- 
 bition to obtain ; but discovering with the 
 Preacher that this was vanity and vexation 
 of spirit, when it was either too late for him 
 to enter upon domestic life, or his habits 
 had unfitted him for it, he retired to his 
 estate, which with the house upon it he had 
 let to a farmer ; in that house he occupied 
 two rooms, and there indulged his humour 
 as he had done in London, though it had 
 now taken a very different direction. 
 
 " Cousin-german to Idleness," says Bur- 
 ton, is " nimia solitudo, too much solitariness. 
 Divers are cast upon this rock for want of 
 means ; or out of a strong apprehension of 
 some infirmity, disgrace, or through bash- 
 fulness, rudeness, simplicity, they cannot 
 apply themselves to others' company. Nud- 
 lum solum infelici gratius solitudine, ubi nidlus 
 sit qui miseriam exprobret. This enforced 
 solitariness takes place and produceth his 
 effect soonest in such as have spent their 
 time, jovially peradventure, in all honest 
 recreations, in good company, in some great 
 family, or populous city ; and are upon a 
 sudden confined to a desert country cottage 
 far off, restrained of their liberty and barred 
 from their ordinary associates. Solitariness 
 is very irksome to such, most tedious, and 
 a sudden cause of great inconvenience." 
 
 The change in Bingley's life was as great 
 and sudden as that which the Anatomist of 
 Melancholy has here described ; but it led 
 to no bodily disease nor to any tangible 
 malady. His property was worth about 
 fourteen hundred a-year. He kept no ser- 
 vant, and no company ; and he lived upon 
 water-gruel and celery, except at harvest 
 time, when he regaled himself with sparrow 
 pies, made of the young birds just fledged, 
 for which he paid the poor inhabitants who 
 caught them two pence a-head. Probably 
 he supposed that it was rendering the neigh- 
 bourhood a service thus to rid it of what he
 
 146 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 considered both a nuisance and a delicacy. 
 This was his only luxury ; and his only 
 business was to collect about a dozen boys 
 and girls on Sundays, and hear them say 
 their Catechism, and read a chapter in the 
 New Testament, for which they received re- 
 muneration in the intelligible form of two 
 pence each, but at the feasts and statutes, 
 " most sweet guerdon, better than remune- 
 ration," in the shape of sixpence. He stood 
 godfather for several poor people's children, 
 they were baptized by his surname ; when 
 they were of proper age he used to put 
 them out as apprentices, and in his will he 
 left each of them an hundred guineas to be 
 paid when they reached the age of twenty- 
 five if they were married, but not till they 
 married ; and if they reached the age of fifty 
 without marrying, the legacy was then for- 
 feited. There were two children for whom 
 he stood godfather, but whose parents did 
 not choose that they should be named after 
 him ; he never took any notice of these chil- 
 dren, nor did he bequeath them any thing ; 
 but to one of the others he left the greater 
 part of his property. 
 
 This man used every week day to lock 
 himself in the church and pace the aisles for 
 two hours, from ten till twelve o'clock. An 
 author, who, in his own peculiar and ad- 
 mirable way, is one of the most affecting 
 writers of any age or country, has described 
 with characteristic feeling the different effects 
 produced upon certain minds by entering 
 an empty or a crowded church. " In the 
 latter," he says, " it is chance but some pre- 
 sent human frailty, an act of inattention 
 on the part of some of the auditory, or 
 a trait of affectation, or worse, vain-glory on 
 that of the preacher, puts us by our best 
 thoughts, disharmonising the place and the 
 occasion. But wouldst thou know the beauty 
 of holiness ? go alone on some week day, 
 borrowing the keys of good master Sexton ; 
 traverse the cool aisles of some country 
 church ; think of the piety that has kneeled 
 there, the congregations old and young 
 that have found consolation there, the 
 meek pastor, the docile parishioners, 
 with no disturbing emotions, no cross con- 
 
 flicting comparisons, drink in the tranquil- 
 lity of the place, till thou thyself become as 
 fixed and motionless as the marble effigies 
 that kneel and weep around thee ! " * 
 
 Harry Bingley died in lodgings at Rother- 
 ham, whither he had removed when he felt 
 himself ill, that he might save expense by 
 being nearer a physician. According to his 
 own direction his body was brought back 
 from thence to the village, and interred in 
 the churchyard ; and he strictly enjoined 
 that no breast-plate, handles, or any orna- 
 ments whatever should be affixed to his 
 coffin, nor any gravestone placed to mark 
 the spot where his remains were deposited. 
 
 Would or would not this godfather general 
 have been happier in a convent or a her- 
 mitage, than he was in thus following his own 
 humour ? It was Dr. Dove's opinion that 
 upon the whole he would; not that a con- 
 ventual, and still less an eremital way of life 
 would have been more rational, but because 
 there would have been a worthier motive for 
 choosing it ; and if not a more reasonable 
 hope, at least a firmer persuasion that it was 
 the sure way to salvation. 
 
 That Harry Bingley's mind had taken a 
 religious turn appeared by his choosing the 
 church for his daily place of promenade. 
 Meditation must have been as much his 
 object as exercise, and of a kind which the 
 place invited. It appeared also by the sort 
 of Sunday-schooling which he gave the chil- 
 dren, long before Sunday Schools, whether 
 for good or evil, were instituted, or as the 
 phrase is, invented by Robert Raikes of 
 eccentric memory. (Patrons and Patronesses 
 of Sunday Schools, be not offended if a doubt 
 concerning their utility be here implied ! 
 The Doctor entertained such a doubt ; and 
 the why and the wherefore shall in due time 
 be fairly stated.) But Bingley certainly 
 came under the description of a humourist, 
 rather than of a devotee or religious enthu- 
 siast ; in fact, he bore that character. And 
 the Doctor's knowledge of human nature 
 led him to conclude that solitary humourists 
 are far from being happy. You see them, 
 
 * The Last Essays of Elia.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 147 
 
 as you see the blind, at their happiest times, 
 when they have something to divert their 
 thoughts. But in the humourist's course of 
 life, there is a sort of defiance of the world 
 and the world's law ; indeed, any man who 
 departs widely from its usages avows this ; 
 and it is, as it ought to be, an uneasy and 
 uncomfortable feeling, wherever it is not 
 sustained by a high state of excitement ; and 
 that state, if it be lasting, becomes madness. 
 Such persons when left to themselves and 
 to their own reflections, as they necessarily 
 are for the greater part of their time, must 
 often stand not only self-arraigned for folly, 
 but self- condemned for it. 
 
 CHAPTER LXIX. 
 
 A MUSICAL RECLUSE AND HIS SISTER. 
 
 " Some proverb maker, I forget who, says, God hath 
 given to some men wisdom and understanding, and to 
 others the art of playing on the fiddle." 
 
 Professor PARK'S Dogmas of the Constitution. 
 
 THE Doctor always spoke of Bingley as a 
 melancholy example of strength of charac- 
 ter misapplied. But he used to say that 
 strength of character was far from implying 
 strength of mind ; and that strength of mind 
 itself was no more a proof of sanity of mind, 
 than strength of body was of bodily health. 
 Both may coexist with mortal maladies, and 
 both, when existing in any remarkable de- 
 gree, may oftentimes be the cause of them. 
 
 Alas for man ! 
 
 Exuberant health diseases him, frail worm ! 
 And the slight bias of untoward chance 
 Makos his b?st virtues from the even line, 
 With fatal declination, swerve aside.* 
 
 There was another person within his cir- 
 cuit who had taken umbrage at the world, 
 and withdrawn from it to enjoy, or rather 
 solace himself according to his own humour 
 in retirement; not in solitude, for he had a 
 sister, who with true sisterly affection ac- 
 commodated herself to his inclinations, and 
 partook of his taste. This gentleman, whose 
 name was Jonathan Stanifbrth, had taken 
 
 RODERICK. 
 
 out a patent for a ploughing machine, and 
 had been deprived, unjustly as he deemed, 
 of the profits which he had expected from it, 
 by a lawsuit. Upon this real disappoint- 
 ment, aggravated by the sense, whether 
 well or ill founded of injustice, he retired to 
 his mansion in the village of Firbeck, about 
 ten miles south of Doncaster, and there dis- 
 carding all thoughts of mechanics, which 
 had been his favourite pursuit, he devoted 
 himself to the practice of music; devoted 
 is not too strong an expression. He had 
 passed the middle of his life before the 
 Doctor knew him ; and it was not till some 
 twenty years later that Miller became ac- 
 quainted with them. 
 
 " I was introduced," says the Organist, 
 " into a room where was sitting a thin old 
 Gentleman, upwards of seventy years of age, 
 playing on the violin. He had a long time 
 lived sequestered from the world, and dedi- 
 cated not less than eight hours a-day to the 
 practice of music. His shrunk shanks were 
 twisted in a peculiar form, by the constant 
 posture in which he sate ; and so indifferent 
 was he about the goodness of his instrument, 
 that, to my astonishment, he always played 
 on a common Dutch fiddle, the original price 
 of which could not be more than half a 
 guinea ; the strings were bad, and the whole 
 instrument dirty and covered with resin. 
 With this humble companion he used to 
 work hard every morning on the old solos of 
 Vivaldi, Tessarini, Corelli, and other ancient 
 composers. The evening was reserved for 
 mere amusement, in accompanying an an- 
 cient sister, who sung most of the favourite 
 songs from Handel's old Italian Operas, 
 which he composed soon after his arrival in 
 England. These Operas she had heard on 
 their first representation in London; con- 
 sequently her performance was to me an 
 uncommon treat. I had an opportunity of 
 comparing the different manner of singing 
 in the beginning of the century, to that 
 which I had been accustomed to hear. And 
 indeed the style was so different, that, 
 musically considered, it might truly be 
 called a different language. None of the 
 present embellishments or graces in music
 
 143 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 were used, no appoggiatura, no un- 
 adorned sustaining, or swelling long notes ; 
 they were varbled by a continual tremulous 
 accent from beginning to end ; and when she 
 arrived at the period of an air, the brother's 
 violin became mute, and she, raising her 
 eyes to the top of the room, and stretching 
 out her throat, executed her extempore 
 cadence in a succession of notes perfectly 
 original, and concluded with a long shake 
 something like the bleating of a lamb." 
 
 Miller's feelings during this visit were so 
 wholly professional, that in describing this 
 brother and sister forty years afterwards, he 
 appears not to have been sensible in how 
 affecting a situation they were placed. 
 Crabbe would have treated these characters 
 finely had they fallen in his way. And so 
 Chancey Hare Townsend could treat them, 
 who has imitated Crabbe with such singular 
 skill, and who has moreover music in his 
 soul and could give the picture the soft 
 touches which it requires. 
 
 I must not omit to say that Mr. Stani- 
 forth and his sister were benevolent, hos- 
 pitable, sensible, worthy persons. Thinkest 
 thou, reader, that they gave no proof of 
 good sense in thus passing their lives ? 
 Look round the circle of thine acquaintance, 
 and ask thyself how many of those whose 
 time is at their own disposal, dispose of it 
 more wisely, that is to say, more benefi- 
 cially to others, or more satisfactorily to 
 themselves ? The sister fulfilled her proper 
 duties in her proper place, and the brother 
 in contributing to her comfort performed 
 his; to each other they were, as their cir- 
 cumstances required them to be, all in all ; 
 they were kind to their poor neighbours, and 
 they were perfectly inoffensive towards the 
 rest of the world. They who are wise unto 
 salvation, know feelingly, when they have 
 done best, that their best works are worth 
 nothing; but they who are conscious that 
 they have lived inoffensively may have in 
 that consciousness a reasonable ground of 
 comfort. 
 
 The Apostle enjoins us to " eschew evil 
 and do good." To do good is not in every 
 one's power ; and many who think they are 
 
 doing it, may be grievously deceived for 
 lack of judgment, and be doing evil the 
 while instead, with the best intentions, but 
 with sad consequences to others, and even- 
 tual sorrow for themselves. But it is in 
 every one's power to eschew evil, so far as 
 never to do wilful harm ; and if we were all 
 careful never unnecessarily to distress or 
 disquiet those who are committed to our 
 charge, or who must be affected by our con- 
 duct, if we made it a point of conscience 
 never to disturb the peace, or diminish the 
 happiness of others, the mass of moral evil 
 by which we are surrounded would speedily 
 be diminished, and with it no inconsiderable 
 portion of those physical ones would be 
 removed, which are the natural consequence 
 and righteous punishment of our misdeeds. 
 
 CHAPTER LXX. 
 
 SHOWING THAT ANY HONEST OCCUPATION IS 
 BETTER THAN NONE, BUT THAT OCCUPA- 
 TIONS WHICH ARE DEEMED HONOURABLE 
 ARE NOT ALWAYS HONEST. 
 
 J'ai peine & concevoir pourquoi le pl&part des hommes 
 ont une si forte envie d'etre heureux, et une si grtinde 
 incapacity pour le devenir. 
 
 VOYAGES DE MILORD CETON. 
 
 " HAPPY," said Dr. Dove, " is the man who, 
 having his whole time thrown upon his hands, 
 makes no worse use of it than to practise 
 eight hours a-day upon a bad fiddle." It 
 was a sure evidence, he insisted, that ilr. 
 Staniforth's frame of mind was harmonious ; 
 the mental organ was in perfect repair, 
 though the strings of the material instru- 
 ment jarred ; and he enjoyed the scientific 
 delight which Handel's composition gave 
 him abstractedly, in its purity and essence. 
 
 " There can now," says an American 
 preacher *, " be no doubt of this truth be- 
 cause there have been so many proofs of it ; 
 that the man who retires completely from 
 business, who is resolved to do nothing but 
 enjoy himself, never attains the end at which 
 
 * FREEMAN'S Eighteen Sermons.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 149 
 
 he aims. If it is not mixed with other in- 
 gredients, no cup is so insipid, and at the 
 same time so unhealthful, as the cup of plea- 
 sure. When the whole enjoyment of the 
 day is to eat, and drink, and sleep, and talk, 
 and visit, life becomes a burden too heavy 
 to be supported by a feeble old man, and he 
 soon sinks into the arms of spleen, or falls 
 into the jaws of death." 
 
 Alas ! it is neither so easy a thing, nor so 
 agreeable a one as men commonly expect, to 
 dispose of leisure when they retire from the 
 business of the world. Their old occupations 
 cling to them, even when they hope that 
 they have emancipated themselves. 
 
 Go to any sea-port town and you will see 
 that the Sea-captain who has retired upon 
 his well-earned savings, sets up a weather- 
 cock in full view from his windows, and 
 watches the variations of the wind as duly 
 as when he was at sea, though no longer 
 with the same anxiety. 
 
 Every one knows the story of the Tallow 
 Chandler, who, having amassed a fortune, 
 disposed of his business, and taken a house 
 in the country, not far from London, that 
 he might enjoy himself, after a few months 
 trial of a holiday life, requested permission 
 of his successor to come into town, and 
 assist him on melting days. I have heard 
 of one who kept a retail spirit-shop, and 
 having in like manner retired from trade, 
 used to employ himself by having one pun- 
 cheon filled with water, and measuring it off 
 by pints into another. I have heard also of a 
 butcher in a small country town, who some 
 little time after he had left off business, in- 
 formed his old customers that he meant to kill 
 a lamb once a week, just for his amusement. 
 
 There is no way of life to which the gene- 
 rality of men cannot conform themselves ; 
 and it seems as if the more repugnance they 
 may at first have had to overcome, the better 
 at last they like the occupation. They grow 
 insensible to the loudest and most discordant 
 sounds, or remain only so far sensible of 
 them, that the cessation will awaken them 
 from sleep. The most offensive smells be- 
 come pleasurable to them in time, even those 
 which are produced by the most offensive 
 
 substances. The temperature of a glass- 
 house is not only tolerable but agreeable to 
 those who have their fiery occupation there. 
 Wisely and mercifully was this power of 
 adaptation implanted in us for our good ; 
 but in our imperfect and diseased society 
 it is grievously perverted. We make the 
 greater part of the evil circumstances in 
 which we are placed ; and then we fit our- 
 selves for those circumstances by a process 
 of systematic degradation, the effect of 
 which most people see in the classes below 
 them, though they may not be conscious 
 that it is operating in a different manner, 
 but with equal force, upon themselves. 
 
 For there is but too much cause to con- 
 clude that our moral sense is more easily 
 blunted than our physical sensations. Roman 
 Ladies delighted in seeing the gladiators 
 bleed and die in the public theatre. Spanish 
 Ladies at this day clap their hands in ex- 
 ultation at spectacles which make English 
 Soldiers sicken and turn away. The most 
 upright Lawyer acquires a sort of Swiss 
 conscience for professional use ; he is soon 
 taught that considerations of right and wrong 
 have nothing to do with his brief, and that 
 his business is to do the best he can for his 
 client, however bad the case. If this went 
 no farther than to save a criminal from 
 punishment, it might be defensible on the 
 ground of humanity and of charitable hope. 
 But to plead with the whole force of an 
 artful mind in furtherance of a vexatious 
 and malicious suit, and to resist a rightful 
 claim with all the devices of legal subtlety, 
 and all the technicalities of legal craft, I 
 know not how he who considers this to be 
 his duty towards his client, can reconcile it 
 with his duty towards his neighbour; or how 
 he thinks it will appear in the account he 
 must one day render to the Lord for the 
 talents which have been committed to his 
 charge. 
 
 There are persons indeed who have so far 
 outgrown their catechism as to believe that 
 their only duty is to themselves ; and who 
 in the march of intellect have arrived at the 
 convenient conclusion that there is no ac- 
 count to be rendered after death. But thev
 
 150 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 would resent any imputation upon their 
 honour or their courage as an offence not to 
 be forgiven ; and it is difficult therefore to 
 understand how even such persons can un- 
 dertake to plead the cause of a scoundrel in 
 cases of seduction, how they can think 
 that the acceptance of a dirty fee is to justify 
 them for cross-examining an injured and 
 unhappy woman with the cruel wantonness 
 of unmanly insult, bruising the broken reed, 
 and treating her as if she were as totally 
 devoid of shame, as they themselves of 
 decency and of humanity. That men should 
 act thus and be perfectly unconscious the 
 while that they are acting a cowardly and 
 rascally part, and that society should not 
 punish them for it by looking upon them as 
 men who have lost their caste, would be 
 surprising if we did not too plainly see to 
 what a degree the moral sense, not only of 
 individuals, but of a whole community, may 
 be corrupted. 
 
 Physiologists have observed that men and 
 dogs are the only creatures whose nature 
 can accommodate itself to every climate, 
 from the burning sands of the desert to the 
 shores and islands of the frozen ocean. And 
 it is not in their physical nature alone that 
 this power of accommodation is found. Dogs 
 who beyond all reasonable question have a 
 sense of duty, and fidelity, and affection, 
 towards their human associates, a sense 
 altogether distinct from fear and selfishness, 
 who will rush upon any danger at their 
 master's bidding, and die broken-hearted 
 beside his body, or upon his grave, dogs, 
 I say, who have this capacity of virtue, have 
 nevertheless been trained to act with rob- 
 bers against the traveller, and to hunt down 
 human beings and devour them. But de- 
 pravity sinks deeper than this in man ; for 
 the dog when thus deteriorated acts against 
 no law, natural or revealed, no moral sense ; 
 he has no power of comparing good and evil 
 and choosing between them, but may be 
 trained to either, and in either is performing 
 his intelligible duty of obedience. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXI. 
 
 TRANSITION IN OUR NARRATIVE PREPARA- 
 TORY TO A CHANGE IN THE DOCTOR'S 
 LIFE. A SAD STORY SUPPRESSED. THE 
 AUTHOR PROTESTS AGAINST PLAYING WITH 
 THE FEELINGS OF HIS READERS. ALL ARE 
 NOT MEBRY THAT SEEM MIRTHFUL. THE 
 SCAFFOLD A STAGE. DON RODRIGO CAL- 
 DERON. THISTLEWOOD. THE WORLD A 
 MASQUERADE, BUT THE DOCTOR ALWAYS 
 IN HIS OWN CHARACTER. 
 
 This breaks no rule of order. 
 
 If order were infringed then should 1 flee 
 
 From my chief purpose and my mark should miss. 
 
 Order is Nature's beauty, and the way 
 
 To Order is by rules that Art hath found. 
 
 GWII.LIM. 
 
 THE question " Who was the Doctor ? " has 
 now, methinks, been answered, though not 
 fully, yet sufficiently for the present stage 
 of our memorials, while he is still a bachelor, 
 a single man, an imperfect individual, half 
 only of the whole being which by the laws 
 of nature, and of Christian polity, it was 
 designed that man should become. 
 
 The next question therefore that presents 
 itself for consideration relates to that other, 
 and as he sometimes called it better half, 
 which upon the union of the two moieties 
 made him a whole man. Who was Mrs. 
 Dove? 
 
 The reader has been informed how my 
 friend in his early manhood, when about-to- 
 be-a-Doctor, fell in love. Upon that part 
 of his history I have related all that he com- 
 municated, which was all that could by me 
 be known, and probably all there was to 
 know. From that time he never fell in love 
 again ; nor did he ever run into it ; but as 
 was formerly intimated, he once caught the 
 affection. The history of this attachment I 
 heard from others ; he had suffered too 
 deeply ever to speak of it himself; and 
 having maturely considered the matter I 
 have determined not to relate the circum- 
 stances. Suffice it to s;iy that he might at 
 the same time have caught from the same 
 person an insidious and mortal disease, if his
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 constitution had been as susceptible of the 
 one contagion, as his heart was of the other. 
 The tale is too painful to be told. There 
 are authors enough in the world who delight 
 in drawing tears ; there will always be young 
 readers enough who are not unwilling to 
 shed them ; and perhaps it may be whole- 
 some for the young and happy upon whose 
 tears there is no other call. 
 
 Not that the author is to be admired, or 
 even excused, who draws too largely upon 
 our lachrymal glands. The pathetic is a 
 string which may be touched by an unskilful 
 hand, and which has often been played upon 
 by an unfeeling one. 
 
 For my own part, I wish neither to make 
 my readers laugh nor weep. It is enough for 
 me, if I may sometimes bring a gleam of 
 sunshine upon thy brow, Pensoso; and a 
 watery one over thy sight, Buonallegro ; a 
 smile iipon Penserosa's lips, a dimple in 
 Amanda's cheek, and some quiet tears, 
 Sophronia, into those mild eyes, which have 
 shed so many scalding ones ! When my 
 subject leads me to distressful scenes, it will, 
 as Southey says, not be 
 
 my purpose e'er to entertain 
 The heart with useless grief; but, as I may, 
 Blend in my calm and meditative strain 
 Consolatory thoughts, the balm for real pain. 
 
 The maxim that an author who desires to 
 make us weep must be affected himself by 
 what he writes, is too trite to be repeated in 
 its original language. Both authors and 
 actors, however, can produce this effect 
 without eliciting a spark of feeling from their 
 own hearts ; and what perhaps may be 
 deemed more remarkable, they can with the 
 same success excite merriment in others, 
 without partaking of it in the slightest 
 degree themselves. No man ever made his 
 contemporaries laugh more heartily than 
 Scarron, whose bodily sufferings were such 
 that he wished for himself 
 
 a loule heure 
 Ou la mart, ou sante meilleure: 
 
 And who describes himself in his epistle to 
 Sarazin, as 
 
 Tale of PARAGUAY. 
 
 Un Pauvret 
 Trei-maigret ; 
 Au col tors, 
 Dont le corps 
 Tout tortu, 
 Tout bossu, 
 Suranne, 
 Dfcharne, 
 Bit rfduit 
 Jour et nuit 
 A souffi-ir 
 Sans guerir 
 Ueg tourment 
 Vehement. 
 
 It may be said perhaps that Scarron's 
 disposition was eminently cheerful, and that 
 by indulging in buffoonery he produced in 
 himself a pleasurable excitement, not unlike 
 that which others seek from strong liquors, 
 or from opium ; and therefore that his ex- 
 ample tends to invalidate the assertion in 
 support of which it was adduced. This is a 
 plausible objection ; and I am far from un- 
 dervaluing the philosophy of Pantagruelism, 
 and from denying that its effects may, and 
 are likely to be as salutary as any that were 
 ever produced by the proud doctrines of the 
 Porch. But I question Scarron's right to 
 the appellation of a Pantagruelist ; his 
 humour had neither the height nor the 
 depth of that philosophy. 
 
 There is a well-known anecdote of a phy- 
 sician, who being called in to an unknown 
 patient, found him suffering under the 
 deepest depression of mind, without any 
 discoverable disease, or other assignable 
 cause. The physician advised him to seek 
 for cheerful objects, and recommended him 
 especially to go to the theatre and see a 
 famous actor then in the meridian of his 
 powers, whose comic talents were unrivalled. 
 Alas ! the comedian who kept crowded 
 theatres in a roar was this poor hypochon- 
 driac himself! 
 
 The state of mind in which such men play 
 their part, whether as authors or actors, was 
 confessed in a letter written from Yarmouth 
 Gaol to the Doctor's friend Miller, by a 
 then well-known performer in this line, 
 George Alexander Stevens. He wrote to 
 describe his distress in prison, and to request 
 that Miller would endeavour to make a 
 small collection for him, some night at a
 
 152 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 concert ; and he told his sad tale sportively. 
 But breaking off that strain he said; " You 
 may think I can have no sense, that while I 
 am thus wretched I should offer at ridicule ! 
 But, Sir, people constituted like me, with a 
 disproportionate levity of spirits, are always 
 most merry when they are most miserable ; 
 and quicken like the eyes of the consump- 
 tive, which are always brightest the nearer 
 a patient approaches to dissolution." 
 
 It is one thing to jest, it is another to be 
 mirthful. Sir Thomas More jested as he 
 ascended the scaffold. In cases of violent 
 death, and especially upon an unjust sen- 
 tence, this is not surprising; because the 
 sufferer has not been weakened by a wasting 
 malady, and is in a state of high mental 
 excitement and exertion. But even when 
 dissolution comes in the course of nature, 
 there are instances of men who have died 
 with a jest upon their lips. Garci Sanchez 
 de Badajoz when he was at the point of 
 death desired that he might be dressed in 
 the habit of St. Francis ; this was accordingly 
 done, and over the Franciscan frock they 
 put on his habit of Santiago, for he was a 
 knight of that order. It was a point of 
 devotion with him to wear the one dress, a 
 point of honour to wear the other ; but 
 looking at himself in this double attire, he 
 said to those who surrounded his death -bed, 
 " The Lord will say to me presently, my 
 friend Garci Sanchez, you come very well 
 wrapt up ! (niuy arropado) and I shall 
 reply, Lord, it is no wonder, for it was 
 winter when I set off." 
 
 The author who relates this anecdote 
 remarks that o morrer com graqa lie muyto 
 bom, e com graqas he muyto mdo : the obser- 
 vation is good but untranslateable, because 
 it plays upon the word which means grace 
 as well as wit. The anecdote itself is an 
 example of the ruling humour " strong in 
 death;" perhaps also of that pride or vanity, 
 call it which we will, -which so often, when 
 mind and body have not yielded to natural 
 decay, or been broken down by suffering, 
 clings to the last in those whom it has 
 strongly possessed. Don Rodrigo Calderon, 
 whose fall and exemplary contrition served 
 
 as a favourite topic for the poets of his day, 
 wore a Franciscan habit at his execution, as 
 an outward and visible sign of penitence 
 and humiliation ; as he ascended the scaffold, 
 he lifted the skirts of the habit with such an 
 air that his attendant confessor thought it 
 
 o 
 
 necessary to reprove him for such an instance 
 of ill-timed regard to his appearance. Don 
 Rodrigo excused himself by saying that he 
 had all his life carried himself gracefully ! 
 
 The author by whom this is related calls 
 it an instance of illustrious hypocrisy. In 
 my judgment the Father Confessor who 
 gave occasion for it deserves a censure far 
 more than the penitent sufferer. The move- 
 ment beyond all doubt was purely habitual, 
 as much so as the act of lifting his feet to 
 ascend the steps of the scaffold ; but the 
 undeserved reproof made him feel how 
 curiously whatever he did was remarked ; 
 and that consciousness reminded him that 
 he had a part to support, when his whole 
 thoughts would otherwise have been far 
 differently directed. 
 
 A personage in one of Webster's Plays 
 says, 
 
 I knew a man that was to lose his head 
 
 Feed with an excellent good appetite 
 
 To strengthen his heart scarce half an hour before, 
 
 And if he did, it only was to speak. 
 
 Probably the dramatist alluded to some well 
 known fact which was at that time of recent 
 occurrence. When the desperate and atro- 
 cious traitor Thistlewood was on the scaffold, 
 his demeanour was that of a man who was 
 resolved boldly to meet the fate he had de- 
 served ; in the few words Avhich were ex- 
 changed between him and his fellow criminals 
 he observed, that the grand question whether 
 or not the soul was immortal would soon be 
 solved for them. No expression of hope 
 escaped him, no breathing of repentance ; 
 no spark of grace appeared. Yet (it is a 
 fact, which whether it be more consolatory 
 or awful, ought to be known,) on the night 
 after the sentence, and preceding his execu- 
 tion, while he supposed that the person who 
 was appointed to watch him in his cell, was 
 asleep, this miserable man was seen by that 
 person repeatedly to rise upon his knees, and 
 heard repeatedly calling upon Christ his
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 153 
 
 Saviour to have mercy upon him, and to 
 forgive him his sins ! 
 
 All men and women are verily, as Shaks- 
 peare has said of them, merely players, 
 when we see them upon the stage of the 
 world ; that is, when they are seen any 
 where except in the freedom and undressed 
 intimacy of private life. There is a wide 
 difference indeed in the performers, as there 
 is at a masquerade between those who 
 assume a character, and those who wear 
 dominoes ; some play off the agreeable, or 
 the disagreeable for the sake of attracting 
 notice ; others retire as it were into them- 
 selves ; but you can judge as little of the one 
 as of the other. It is even possible to be 
 acquainted with a man long and familiarly, 
 and as we may suppose intimately, and yet 
 not to know him thoroughly or well. There 
 may be parts of his character with which we 
 have never come in contact, recesses 
 which have never been opened to us, 
 springs upon which we have never touched. 
 Many there are who can keep their vices 
 secret ; would that all bad men had sense 
 and shame enough to do so, or were com- 
 pelled to it by the fear of public opinion ! 
 Shame of a very different nature, a moral 
 shamefacedness, which, if not itself an 
 instinctive virtue, is near akin to one, makes 
 those who are endowed with the best and 
 highest feelings, conceal them from all com- 
 mon eyes ; and for our performance of 
 religious duties, our manifestations of 
 piety, we have been warned that what of 
 this kind is done to be seen of men, will not 
 be rewarded openly before men and angels 
 at the last. 
 
 If I knew my venerable friend better than 
 I ever knew any other man, it was because 
 he was in many respects unlike other men, 
 and in few points more unlike them than in 
 this, that he always appeared what he was, 
 neither better nor worse. With a dis- 
 cursive intellect and a fantastic imagination, 
 he retained his simplicity of heart. He had 
 kept that heart unspotted from the world ; 
 his father's blessing was upon him, and he 
 ! prized it beyond all that the world could 
 i have bestowed. Crowe says of us, 
 i 
 
 Our better mind 
 
 Is as a Sunday's garment, then put on 
 When we have nought to do ; but at our work 
 We wear a worse for thrift ! 
 
 It was not so with him ; his better mind was 
 not as a garment to be put on and off at 
 pleasure ; it was like its plumage to a bird, 
 its beauty and its fragrance to a flower, 
 except that it was not liable to be ruffled, 
 nor to fade, nor to exhale and pass away. 
 His mind was like a peacock always in full 
 attire ; it was only at times indeed, (to pur- 
 sue the similitude,) that he expanded and 
 displayed it ; but its richness and variety 
 never could be concealed from those who 
 had eyes to see them. 
 
 His sweetest mind 
 'Twixt mildness tempered and low courtesy, 
 
 Could leave as soon to be, as not be kind. 
 Churlish despite ne'er looked from his calm eye, 
 
 Much less commanded in his gentle heart ; 
 To baser men fair looks he would impart ; 
 
 Nor could he cloak ill thoughts in complimental art.* 
 
 What he was in boyhood has been seen, and 
 something also of his manlier years ; but as 
 yet little of the ripe fruits of his intellectual 
 autumn have been set before the readers. 
 No such banquet was promised them as that 
 with which they are to be regaled. "The 
 booksellers," says Somner the antiquary, in 
 an unpublished letter to Dugdale, " affect a 
 great deal of title as advantageous for the 
 sale ; but judicious men dislike it, as savour- 
 ing of too much ostentation, and suspecting 
 the wine is not good where so much bush is 
 hung out." Somebody, I forget who, wrote 
 a book upon the titles of books, regarding 
 the title as a most important part of the com- 
 position. The bookseller's fashion of which 
 Somner speaks has long been obsolete ; mine 
 is a brief title promising little, but intending 
 much. It specifies only the Doctor ; but 
 his gravities and his levities, his opinions of 
 men and things, his speculations moral and 
 political, physical and spiritual, his phi- 
 losophy and his religion, each blending with 
 each, and all with all, these are comprised in 
 the &c. of my title-page, these and his 
 Pantauruelism to boot. When I meditate 
 upon these I may exclaim with the poet: 
 
 * PHINEAS FLETCHER.
 
 154 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Mnemosyne hath kiss'd the kingly Jove, 
 
 Per fua gratia singulare 
 
 And entertained a feast within my brain.* 
 
 Par ch' to habbi nel capo tma seguenza, 
 
 
 Unafontana, un flume, un logo, un mare. 
 
 These I shall produce for the entertainment 
 
 Idest un pantanaccio d'eloquenza.% 
 
 of the idle reader, and for the recreation 
 
 Sidronius Hosschius has supplied me with 
 
 of the busy one ; for the amusement of the 
 
 a simile for this stream of recollections. 
 
 young, and the contentment of the old ; for 
 
 JEstnat el cursu nunquam cessante laborat 
 
 the pleasure of the wise, and the approba- 
 
 Eridantis,fessis trrequietus aquis; 
 
 tion of the good ; and these when produced 
 
 Spvmeus it,fcrvensquc, undamque supervenit unda ; 
 HCEC illam, sed et hanc non minus into prensit. 
 
 will be the monument of Daniel Dove. 
 
 Volvitur, et votvit pariter, motuque percnni 
 
 Of such a man it may indeed be said that 
 
 Truditur ajluctu posteriors prior. 
 
 he 
 
 As I shall proceed 
 
 Is his own marble ; and hit merit can 
 Cut him to any figure, and express 
 
 Ezcipiet curam nova euro, laborque laborem, 
 Nee minus exhausto quod superabit erit. 
 
 More art than Death's Cathedral palaces, 
 Where royal ashes keep their court ! t 
 
 But for stores which in this way have been 
 received, the best compacted memory is like 
 
 Some of my contemporaries may remember 
 a story once current at Cambridge, of a 
 
 a sieve ; more of necessity slips tlu'ough 
 than stops upon the way ; and well is it, if 
 
 luckless undergraduate, who being examined 
 
 that which is of most value be what remains 
 
 for his degree, and failing in every subject 
 
 behind. I have pledged myself, therefore, 
 
 upon which he was tried, complained that 
 he had not been questioned upon the things 
 which he knew. Upon which the examining 
 
 to no more than I can perform ; and this the 
 reader shall have within reasonable limits, 
 and in due time, provided the performance 
 
 master, moved less to compassion by the 
 
 be not prevented by any of the evils in- 
 
 impenetrable dulness of the man than to 
 
 cident to human life. 
 
 anger by his unreasonable complaint, tore 
 
 At present, my business is to answer the 
 
 off about an inch of paper, and pushing it 
 
 question " Who was Airs. Dove ?" 
 
 towards him, desired him to write upon that 
 
 
 all he knew ! 
 
 
 And yet bulky books are composed, or 
 
 
 compiled by men who know as little as this 
 poor empty individual. Tracts, and treatises, 
 
 CHAPTER LXXD. 
 
 and tomes, may be, and are written by 
 
 IN WHICH THE FOURTH OF THE QUESTIONS 
 
 persons, to whom the smallest square sheet 
 
 PROPOSED IN CHAPTER II. P. I. IS BEGUN 
 
 of delicate note paper, rose-coloured, or 
 
 TO BE ANSWERED ; SOME OBSERVATIONS 
 
 green, or blue, with its embossed border, 
 
 UPON ANCESTRY ARE INTRODUCED, AND 
 
 manufactured expressly for ladies' fingers 
 
 THE READER IS INFORMED WHY THE AU- 
 
 and crow-quills, would afford ample room, 
 
 THOR DOES NOT WEAR A CAP AND EEIJ^S. 
 
 and verge enough, for expounding the sum 
 
 Boast not the titles of your ancestors, 
 
 total of their knowledge upon the subject 
 
 Brave youths ! they're their possessions, none of yours. 
 
 whereon they undertake to enlighten the 
 
 When your own virtues equall'il have their names, 
 'Twill be but fair to lean upon their fames, 
 
 public. 
 
 For they are strong supporters; but till then 
 
 Were it possible for me to pour out all 
 
 The greatest are but growing gentlemen. 
 
 that I have taken in from him, of whose 
 
 
 accumulated stores I, alas ! am now the sole 
 
 WHO was Mrs. Dove ? 
 
 living depository, I know not to what extent 
 
 A woman of the oldest family in this or 
 
 the precious reminiscences might run. 
 
 any other kingdom, for she was beyond all 
 
 
 doubt a legitimate descendant of Adam. 
 
 ROBERT GREEN. f MIDDLETON. 
 
 t MATTEO FRANZESI.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 155 
 
 Her husband perhaps might have rather 
 said that she was a daughter of Eve. But 
 he would have said it with a smile of play- 
 fulness, not of scorn. 
 
 To trace her descent somew.hat lower, 
 and bring it nearer to the stock of the 
 Courtenays, the Howards, the Manriques, 
 the Bourbons and Thundertentronks, she 
 was a descendant of Noah, and of his eldest 
 son Japhet. She was allied to Ham, how- 
 ever, in another way, besides this remote 
 niece-ship. 
 
 As how I pray you, Sir ? 
 
 Her maiden name was Bacon. 
 
 Grave Sir, be not disconcerted. I hope 
 you have no antipathy to such things : or at 
 least that they do not act upon you, as the 
 notes of a bagpipe are said to act upon cer- 
 tain persons whose unfortunate idiosyncrasy 
 exposes them to very unpleasant effects from 
 the sound. 
 
 Mr. Critickin, for as there is a diminu- 
 tive for cat, so should there be for critic, 
 I defy you ! Before I can be afraid of your 
 claws, you must leave off biting your nails. 
 
 I have something better to say to the 
 Reader, who follows wherever I lead up 
 and down, high and low, to the hill and to 
 the valley, contented with his guide, and 
 enjoying the prospect which I show him in 
 all its parts, in the detail and in the whole, 
 in the foreground and home scene, as well as 
 in the Pisgah view. I will tell him before 
 the chapter is finished, why I do not wear a 
 cap and bells. 
 
 To you, my Lady, who may imagine that 
 Miss Bacon was not of a good family, (Lord 
 Verulam's line, as you very properly remark, 
 being extinct,) I beg leave to observe that 
 she was certainly a cousin of your own ; 
 somewhere within the tenth and twentieth 
 degrees, if not nearer. And this I proceed 
 to prove. 
 
 Every person has two immediate parents, 
 four ancestors in the second degree, eight in 
 the third, and so the pedigree ascends, 
 doubling at every step, till in the twentieth 
 generation, he has no fewer than one mil- 
 lion, thirty thousand, eight hundred and 
 ninety-six 
 
 Great, great, great, 
 
 great, great, great, 
 
 great, great, great, 
 
 great, great, great, 
 
 great, great, great, 
 
 great, great, great, 
 
 grandfathers and grandmothers. Therefore, 
 my Lady, I conceive it to be absolutely cer- 
 tain, that under the Plantagenets, if not in 
 the time of the Tudors, some of your 
 ancestors must have been equally ancestors 
 of Miss Deborah Bacon. 
 
 " At the conquest," says Sir Richard 
 Phillips, " the ancestry of every one of the 
 English people was the whole population of 
 England; while on the other hand, every 
 one having children at that time, was the 
 direct progenitor of the whole of the living 
 race." 
 
 The reflecting reader sees at once that it 
 must be so. Plato ait, Neminem regem non 
 ex servis esse oriendum, neminem non servum 
 ex regibus. Omnia ista longa varietas mis- 
 cuit, et sursum deorsum fortuna versavit. 
 Quis ergo generosus? ad virtutem bene a 
 natura composites. Hoc unum est intuendum : 
 alioqui, si ad vetera revocas, nemo non inde 
 est, ante quod nihil est* And the erudite 
 Ihre in the Proemium to his invaluable 
 Glossary, says, ut aliquoto cognationis gradu, 
 sed per monumentorum defectum hodie in- 
 explicabile, omnes homines inter se connexi 
 sunt. 
 
 Now then to the gentle reader. The 
 reason why I do not wear a cap and bells is 
 this. 
 
 There are male caps of five kinds which 
 are worn at present in this kingdom ; to wit. 
 the military cap, the collegiate cap, the 
 jockey cap, the travelling cap, and the night 
 cap. Observe, reader, I said kinds, that is 
 to say in scientific language genera, for 
 the species and varieties are numerous, 
 especially in the former genus. 
 
 I am not a soldier ; and having long been 
 weaned from Alma Mater, of course have 
 left off my college cap. The gentlemen of 
 the hunt would object to my going
 
 156 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 out with the bells on : it would be likely to 
 frighten their horses ; and were I to attempt 
 it, it might involve me in unpleasant dis- 
 putes, which might possibly lead to more 
 unpleasant consequences. To my travelling 
 cap the bells would be an inconvenient 
 appendage ; nor would they be a whit more 
 comfortable upon my night-cap. Besides, 
 my wife might object to them. 
 
 It follows that if I would wear a cap and 
 bells, I must have a cap made on purpose. 
 But this would be rendering myself sin- 
 gular; and of all things a wise man will 
 most avoid any ostentatious appearance of 
 singularity. 
 
 Now I am certainly not singular in play- 
 ing the fool without one. 
 
 And indeed if I possessed such a cap, it 
 would not be proper to wear it in this part 
 of my history. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXHT. 
 
 BASH MARRIAGES. AN EARLY WIDOWHOOD. 
 AFFLICTION RENDERED A BLESSING TO THE 
 SUFFERERS J AND TWO ORPHANS LEFT, 
 THOUGH NOT DESTITUTE, YET FRIENDLESS. 
 
 Love built a stately house ; where Fortune came, 
 And spinning fancies, she was heard to say 
 
 That her fine cobwebs did support the frame ; 
 
 Whereas they were supported by the same. 
 But Wisdom quickly swept them all away. 
 
 HERBERT. 
 
 MRS. Dove was the only child of a clergy- 
 man who held a small vicarage in the West 
 Riding. Leonard Bacon, her father, had 
 been left an orphan in early youth. He 
 had some wealthy relations by whose con- 
 tributions he was placed at an endowed 
 grammar-school in the country, and having 
 through their influence gained a scholar- 
 ship to which his own deserts might have 
 entitled him, they continued to assist him 
 sparingly enough indeed at the University, 
 till he succeeded to a fellowship. Leonard 
 was made of Nature's finest clay, and Nature 
 had tempered it with the choicest dews of 
 heaven. 
 
 He had a female cousin about three years 
 younger than himself, and in like manner 
 an orphan, equally destitute, but far more 
 forlorn. Man hath a fleece about him which 
 enables him to bear the bufferings of the 
 storm ; but woman when young, and lovely, 
 and poor, is as a shorn lamb for which the 
 wind has not been tempered. 
 
 Leonard's father and Margaret's had been 
 bosom friends. They were subalterns in the 
 same regiment, and being for a long time 
 stationed at Salisbury, had become intimate 
 at the house of Mr. Trewbody, a gentleman 
 of one of the oldest families in Wiltshire. 
 Mr. Trewbody had three daughters. Meli- 
 cent, the eldest, was a celebrated beauty, 
 and the knowledge of this had not tended 
 to improve a detestable temper. The two 
 youngest, Deborah and Margaret, were 
 lively, good-natured, thoughtless, and at- 
 tractive. They danced with the two Lieu- 
 tenants, played to them on the spinnet, sung 
 with them and laughed with them, till this 
 mirthful intercourse became serious, and 
 knowing that it would be impossible to ob- 
 tain their father's consent, they married the 
 men of their hearts without it. Palmer and 
 Bacon were both without fortune, and with- 
 out any other means of subsistence than 
 their commissions. For four years they were 
 as happy as love could make them ; at the 
 end of that time Palmer was seized with an 
 infectious fever. Deborah was then far ad- 
 vanced in pregnancy, and no solicitations 
 could induce Bacon to keep from his friend's 
 bed-side. The disease proved fatal; it com- 
 municated to Bacon and his wife ; the former 
 only survived his friend ten days, and he 
 and Deborah were then laid in the same 
 grave. They left an only boy of three years 
 old, and in less than a month the widow 
 Palmer was delivered of a daught er. 
 
 In the first impulse of anger at the flight 
 of his daughters, and the degradation of his 
 family, (for Bacon was the son of a trades- 
 man, and Palmer was nobody knew who,) 
 Mr. Trewbody had made his will, and loft 
 the whole sum, which he had designed for 
 his three daughters, to the eldest. Whether 
 the situation of Margaret and the two or-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 157 
 
 phaiis might have touched him is, perhaps, 
 doubtful, for the family were either light- 
 hearted or hard-hearted, and his heart was 
 of the hard sort ; but he died suddenly a few 
 months before his sons-in-law. The only 
 son, Trewman Trewbody, Esq., a Wiltshire 
 fox-hunter, like his father, succeeded to the 
 estate ; and as he and his eldest sister hated 
 each other cordially, Miss Melicent left the 
 manor-house, and established herself in the 
 Close at Salisbury, where she lived in that 
 style which a portion of 6000Z. enabled her 
 in those days to support. 
 
 The circumstance which might appear so 
 greatly to have aggravated Mrs. Palmer's 
 distress, if such distress be capable of aggra- 
 vation, prevented her perhaps from eventu- 
 ally sinking under it. If the birth of her 
 child was no alleviation of her sorrow, it 
 brought with it new feelings, new duties, 
 new cause for exertion, and new strength 
 for it. She wrote to Melicent and to her 
 brother, simply stating her own destitute 
 situation, and that of the orphan Leonard; 
 she believed that their pride would not 
 suifer them either to let her starve or go 
 to the parish for support, and in this she 
 was not disappointed. An answer was re- 
 turned by Miss Trewbody, informing her 
 that she had nobody to thank but herself 
 for her misfortunes ; but, that notwithstand- 
 ing the disgrace which she had brought 
 upon the family, she might expect an annual 
 allowance of ten pounds from the writer, 
 and a like sum from her brother ; upon this 
 she must retire into some obscure part of 
 the country, and pray God to forgive her 
 for the offence she had committed in marry- 
 ing beneath her birth and against her father's 
 consent. 
 
 Mrs. Palmer had also written to the friends 
 of Lieutenant Bacon, her own husband 
 had none who could assist her. She ex- 
 pressed her willingness and her anxiety to 
 have the care of her sister's orphan, but 
 represented her forlorn state. They behaved 
 more liberally than her own kin had done, 
 and promised five pounds a-year as long as 
 the boy should require it. With this and 
 her pension she took a cottage in a retired 
 
 village. Grief had acted upon her heart 
 like the rod of Moses upon the rock in the 
 desert ; it had opened it, and the well-spring 
 of piety had gushed forth. Affliction made 
 her religious, and religion brought with it 
 consolation, and comfort, and joy. Leonard 
 became as dear to her as Margaret. The 
 sense of duty educed a pleasure from every 
 privation to which she subjected herself for 
 the sake of economy ; and in endeavouring 
 to fulfil her duties in that state of life to 
 which it had pleased God to call her, she 
 was happier than she had ever been in her 
 father's house, and not less so than in her 
 marriage state. Her happiness indeed was 
 different in kind, but it was higher in degree. 
 For the sake of these dear children she was 
 contented to live, and even prayed for life ; 
 while, if it had respected herself only, Death 
 had become to her rather an object of de- 
 sire than of dread. In this manner she lived 
 seven years after the loss of her husband, 
 and was then carried off by an acute disease, 
 to the irreparable loss of the orphans who 
 were thus orphaned indeed. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIV. 
 
 A LADY DESCRIBED WHOSE SINGLE LIFE WAS 
 UO BLESSEDNESS EITHER TO HERSELF OR 
 OTHERS. A VERACIOUS EPITAPH AND AN 
 APPROPRIATE MONUMENT. 
 
 Beauty ! my Lord, 'tis the worit part of woman ! 
 
 A weak poor thing, assaulted every hour 
 
 By creeping minutes of defacing time ; 
 
 A superficies which each breath of care 
 
 Blasts off; and every humorous stream of grief 
 
 Which flows from forth these fountains of our eyes, 
 
 Washeth away, as rain doth winter's snow. 
 
 GOFP. 
 
 Miss TREWBODY behaved with perfect pro- 
 priety upon the news of her sister's death. 
 She closed her front windows for two days ; 
 received no visitors for a week ; was much 
 indisposed, but resigned to the will of Pro- 
 vidence, in reply to messages of condolence ; 
 put her servants in mourning, and sent for 
 Margaret that she might do her duty to her 
 sister's child by breeding her up under her
 
 158 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 own eye. Poor Margaret was transferred 
 from the stone floor of her mother's cottage 
 to the Turkey carpet of her aunt's parlour. 
 She was too young to comprehend at once 
 the whole evil of the exchange ; but she 
 learned to feel and understand it during 
 years of bitter dependence, unalleviated by 
 any hope, except that of one day seeing 
 Leonard, the only creature on earth whom 
 she remembered with affection. 
 
 Seven years elapsed, and during all those 
 years Leonard was left to pass his holidays, 
 summer and winter, at the grammar-school 
 where he had been placed at Mrs. Palmer's 
 death : for although the master regularly 
 transmitted with his half-yearly bill the most 
 favourable accounts of his disposition and 
 general conduct, as well as of his progress 
 in learning, no wish to see the boy had ever 
 arisen in the hearts of his nearest relations ; 
 and no feeling of kindness, or sense of decent 
 humanity, had ever induced either the fox- 
 hunter Trewman or Melicent his sister, to 
 invite him for Midsummer or Christmas. 
 At length in the seventh year a letter an- 
 nounced that his school- education had been 
 completed, and that he was elected to a 
 
 scholarship at College, Oxford, which 
 
 scholarship would entitle him to a fellowship 
 in due course of time : in the intervening 
 years some little assistance from his liberal 
 benefactors would be required ; and the libe- 
 rality of those kind friends would be well 
 bestowed upon a youth who bade so fair to 
 do honour to himself, and to reflect no din- 
 grace upon his honourable connections. The 
 head of the family promised his part, with 
 an ungracious expression of satisfaction at 
 thinking that " thank God, there would soon 
 be an end of these demands upon him." 
 Miss Trewbody signified her assent in the 
 same amiable and religious spirit. However 
 much her sister had disgraced her family, 
 she replied, " please God it should never be 
 said that she refused to do her duty." 
 
 The whole sum which these wealthy re- 
 lations contributed was not very heavy, 
 an annual ten pounds each : but they con- 
 trived to make their nephew feel the weight 
 of every separate portion. The Squire's 
 
 half came always with a brief note desiring 
 that the receipt of the enclosed sum might 
 be acknowledged without delay, not a word 
 of kindness or courtesy accompanied it : 
 and Miss Trewbody never failed to admi- 
 nister with her remittance a few edifying 
 remarks upon the folly of his mother in 
 marrying beneath herself; and the improper 
 conduct of his father in connecting himself 
 with a woman of family, against the consent 
 of her relations,- the consequence of which 
 was that he had left a child dependant upon 
 those relations for support. Leonard re- 
 ceived these pleasant preparations of charity 
 only at distant intervals, when he regularly 
 expected them, with his half-yearly allow- 
 ance. But Margaret meantime was dieted 
 upon the food of bitterness, without one 
 circumstance to relieve the misery of her 
 situation. 
 
 At the time, of which I am now speaking, 
 Miss Trewbody was a maiden lady of forty- 
 seven, in the highest state of preservation. 
 The whole business of her life had been to 
 take care of a fine person, and in this she 
 had succeeded admirably. Her library con- 
 sisted of two books ; Nelson's Festivals and 
 Fasts was one, the other was " the Queen's 
 Cabinet unlocked ; " and there was not a 
 cosmetic in the latter which she had not 
 faithfully prepared. Thus by means, as she 
 believed, of distilled waters of various kinds, 
 May-dew and butter-milk, her skin retained 
 its beautiful texture still, and much of its 
 smoothness ; and she knew at times how to 
 give it the appearance of that brilliancy 
 which it had lost. But that was a profound 
 secret. Miss Trewbody, remembering the 
 example of Jezebel, always felt conscious 
 that she was committing a sin when she took 
 the rouge-box in her hand, and generally 
 ejaculated in a low voice, the Lord forgive 
 me ! when she laid it down : but looking in 
 the glass at the same time, she indulged a 
 hope that the nature of the temptation might 
 be considered as an excuse for the trans- 
 gression. Her other great business was to 
 observe with the utmost precision all the 
 punctilios of her situation in life ; and the 
 time which was not devoted to one or other
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 159 
 
 of these worthy occupations, was employed 
 in scolding her servants, and tormenting her 
 niece. This employment, for it was so 
 habitual that it deserved that name, agreed 
 excellently with her constitution. She was 
 troubled with no acrid humours, no fits of 
 bile, no diseases of the spleen, no vapours 
 or hysterics. The morbid matter was all 
 collected in her temper, and found a regular 
 vent at her tongue. This kept the lungs in 
 vigorous health ; nay, it even seemed to sup- 
 ply the place of wholesome exercise, and to 
 stimulate the system like a perpetual blister, 
 with this peculiar advantage, that instead of 
 an inconvenience it was a pleasure to her- 
 self, and all the annoyance was to her de- 
 pendents. 
 
 Miss Trewbody lies buried in the Cathe- 
 dral at Salisbury, where a monument was 
 erected to her memory worthy of remem- 
 brance itself for its appropriate inscription 
 and accompaniments. The epitaph recorded 
 her as a woman eminently pious, virtuous, 
 and charitable, who lived universally re- 
 spected, and died sincerely lamented by all 
 who had the happiness of knowing her. This 
 inscription was upon a marble shield sup- 
 ported by two Cupids, who bent their heads 
 over the edge, with marble tears larger than 
 grey pease, and something of the same 
 colour, upm their cheeks. These were the 
 only tears 'rhich her death occasioned, and 
 the only Cupids with whom she had ever 
 any concern. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXV. 
 
 A. SCENE WHICH WILL PUT SOME OF THOSE 
 READERS WHO HAVE BEEN MOST IM- 
 PATIENT WITH THE AUTHOR, IN THE BEST 
 HUMOUR WITH HIM. 
 
 There is no argument of more antiquity and elegancy 
 than is the matter of Love ; for it seems to be as old as 
 the world, and to bear date from the first time that man 
 and woman was : therefore In this, as in the finest metal, 
 the freshest wit! have in all ages shown their best work- 
 manship. ROBERT WILMOT. 
 
 WHEN Leonard had resided three years at 
 Oxford, one of his college-friends invited 
 him to pass the long vacation at his father's 
 
 house, which happened to be within an easy 
 ride of Salisbury. One morning, therefore, 
 he rode to that city, rung at Miss Trewbody's 
 door, and having sent in his name, was ad- 
 mitted into the parlour, where there was no 
 one to receive him, while Miss Trewbody 
 adjusted her head-dress at the toilette, be- 
 fore she made her appearance. Her feelings 
 while she was thus employed were not of 
 the pleasnntest kind toward this unexpected 
 guest ; and she was prepared to accost him 
 with a reproof for his extravagance in un- 
 dertaking so long a journey, and with some 
 mortifying questions concerning the busi- 
 ness which brought him there. But this 
 amiable intention was put to flight, when 
 Leonard, as soon as she entered the room, 
 informed her that having accepted an invi- 
 tation into that neighbourhood, from his 
 friend and fellow-collegian, the son of Sir 
 Lambert Bowles, he had taken the earliest 
 opportunity of coming to pay his respects to 
 her, and acknowledging his obligations, as 
 bound alike by duty and inclination. The 
 name of Sir Lambert Bowles acted upon 
 Miss Trewbody like a charm : and its molli- 
 fying effect was not a little aided by the 
 tone of her nephew's address, and the sight 
 of a fine youth in the first bloom of man- 
 hood, whose appearance and manners were 
 such that she could not be surprised at the 
 introduction he had obtained into one of 
 the first families in the county. The scowl, 
 therefore, which she brought into the room 
 upon her brow, passed instantly away, and 
 was succeeded by so gracious an aspect, that 
 Leonard, if he had not divined the cause, 
 might have mistaken this gleam of sunshine 
 for fair weather. 
 
 A cause which Miss Trewbody could not 
 possibly suspect had rendered her nephew's 
 address thus conciliatory. Had he expected 
 to see no other person in that house, the 
 visit would have been performed as an irk- 
 some obligation, and his manner would have 
 appeared as cold and formal as the reception 
 which he anticipated. But Leonard had not 
 forgotten the playmate and companion with 
 whom the happy years of his childhood had 
 been passed. Young as he was at their
 
 160 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 separation, his character had taken its stamp 
 during those peaceful years, and the impres- 
 sion which it then received was indelible. 
 Hitherto hope had never been to him so 
 delightful as memory. His thoughts wan- 
 dered back into the past more frequently 
 than they took flight into the future ; and 
 the favourite form which his imagination 
 called up was that of the sweet child, who in 
 winter partook his bench in the chimney 
 corner, and in summer sate with him in the 
 porch, and strung the fallen blossoms of 
 jessamine upon stalks of grass. The snow- 
 drop and the crocus reminded him of their 
 little garden, the primrose of their sunny 
 orchard-bank, and the blue bells and the 
 cowslip of the fields, wherein they were al- 
 lowed to run wild, and gather them in the 
 merry month of May. Such as she then 
 was he saw her frequently in sleep, with her 
 blue eyes, and rosy cheeks, and flaxen curls : 
 and in his day-dreams he sometimes pictured 
 her to himself such as he supposed she now 
 might be, and dressed up the image with all 
 the magic of ideal beauty. His heart, there- 
 fore, was at his lips when he inquired for 
 his cousin. It was not without something 
 like fear, and an apprehension of disappoint- 
 ment, that he awaited her appearance ; and 
 he was secretly condemning himself for the 
 romantic folly which he had encouraged, 
 when the door opened, and a creature came 
 in, less radiant, indeed, but more winning 
 than his fancy had created, for the loveli- 
 ness of earth and reality was about her. 
 
 " Margaret," said Miss Trewbody, " do 
 you remember your cousin Leonard ?" 
 
 Before she could answer, Leonard had 
 taken her hand. " 'Tis a long while, Margaret, 
 since we parted ! ten years ! But I have 
 not forgotten the parting, nor the blessed 
 days of our childhood." 
 
 She stood trembling like an aspen leaf, 
 and looked wistfully in his face for a moment, 
 then hung down her head, without power to 
 utter a word in reply. But he felt her tears 
 fall fast upon his hand, and felt also that she 
 returned its pressure. 
 
 Leonard had some difficulty to command 
 himself, so as to bear a part in conversation 
 
 with his aunt, and keep his eyes and his 
 thoughts from wandering. He accepted, 
 however, her invitation to stay and dine with 
 her with undissembled satisfaction, and the 
 pleasure was not a little heightened when 
 she left the room to give some necessary 
 orders in consequence. Margaret still sate 
 trembling and in silence. He took her 
 hand, pressed it to his lips, and said in a low 
 earnest voice, " dear dear Margaret ! " She 
 raised her eyes, and fixing them upon him 
 with one of those looks the perfect remem- 
 brance of which can never be effaced from 
 the heart to which they have been addressed, 
 replied in a lower but not less earnest tone, 
 " dear Leonard ! " and from that moment 
 their lot was sealed for time and for eternity. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXVI. 
 
 A STORY CONCERNING CUPID WHICH NOT ONE 
 READER IN TEN THOUSAND HAS EVER 
 HEARD BEFORE ; A DEFENCE OF LOVE 
 WHICH WILL BE VERY SATISFACTORY TO 
 THE LADIES. 
 
 They do lie, 
 
 Lie grossly who say Love is blind, by him 
 And Heaven they lie ! he has a sight can pierce 
 Thro' ivory, as clear as it were horn, 
 And reach his object. 
 
 BEAUMONT and FLETCHER. 
 
 THE Stoics who called our good affections 
 eupathies, did not manage those affections 
 as well as they understood them. They kept 
 them under too severe a discipline, and 
 erroneously believed that the best way to 
 strengthen the heart was by hardening it. 
 The Monks carried this error to its utmost 
 extent, falling indeed into the impious ab- 
 surdity that our eupathies are sinful in them- 
 selves. The Monks have been called the 
 Stoics of Christianity; but the philosophy 
 of the Cloister can no more bear comparison 
 with that of the Porch, than Stoicism itself 
 with Christianity pure and undefiled. Van 
 Helmont compares even the Franciscans 
 with the Stoics; paucis mutatis, he says, 
 videbam Capucinum esse Stoicum Chris- 
 tianum. He might have found a closer
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 161 
 
 parallel for them in the Cynics both for their 
 filth and their extravagance. And here I 
 will relate a Rabbinical tradition. 
 
 On a time the chiefs of the Synagogue, 
 being mighty in prayer, obtained of the 
 Lord that the Evil Spirit who had seduced 
 the Jews to commit idolatry, and had brought 
 other nations against them to overthrow 
 their city and destroy the Temple, should 
 be delivered into their hands for punish- 
 ment ; when by advice of Zechariah the 
 prophet they put him in a leaden vessel, and 
 secured him there with a weight of lead 
 upon his face. By this sort of peine forte et 
 dure, they laid him so effectually that he has 
 never appeared since. Pursuing then their 
 supplications while the ear of Heaven was 
 open, they entreated that another Evil Spirit, 
 by whom the people had continually been 
 led astray, might in like manner be put into 
 their power. This prayer also was granted ; 
 and the Demon with whom Poets, Lovers, 
 and Ladies are familiar, by his heathen 
 name of Cupid, was delivered up to them. 
 
 folle per lui 
 
 Tutto il mondo si fa. Perisca Amore, 
 E taggto ognun sard.* 
 
 The prophet Zechariah warned them not to 
 be too hasty in putting him to death, for 
 fear of the consequences ; 
 
 You shall see 
 
 A fine confusion in the country ; mark it 1 
 
 But the prophet's counsel was as vain as the 
 wise courtier's in Beaumont and Fletcher's 
 tragedy, who remonstrated against the de- 
 cree for demolishing Cupid's altars. They 
 disregarded his advice ; because they were 
 determined upon destroying the enemy now 
 that they had him in their power ; and they 
 bound their prisoner fast in chains, while 
 they deliberated by what death he should 
 die. These deliberations lasted three days ; 
 on the third day it happened that a new-laid 
 egg was wanted for a sick person, and be- 
 hold ! no such thing was to be found through- 
 out the kingdom of Israel, for since this 
 Evil Spirit was in durance, not an egg had 
 
 METASTASIO. 
 
 been laid ; and it appeared upon inquiry, 
 that the whole course of kind was suspended. 
 The chiefs of the Synagogue perceived then 
 that not without reason Zechariah had 
 warned them ; they saw that if they put their 
 prisoner to death the world must come to an 
 end ; and therefore they contented them- 
 selves with putting out his eyes, that he 
 might not see to do so much mischief, and let 
 him go. 
 
 Thus it was that Cupid became blind, a 
 fact unknown to the Greek and Roman Poets 
 and to all the rhymesters who have succeeded 
 them. 
 
 The Rabbis are coarse fablers. Take away 
 love, and not physical nature only, but the 
 heart of the moral world would be palsied : 
 
 This is the salt unto Humanity 
 And keeps it sweet.* 
 
 Senza di lui 
 Che diverrian le sfere, 
 n mar, la terra f Alia sva chiaraface 
 Si color an le sidle ; ordine e lume 
 Ei lor ministra ; egli manlicne in pace 
 GIT elemente discordi ; unisce insieme 
 Gli oppotti eccessi ; e con eterno giro, 
 Che sembra caso, ed e saper profondo, 
 Forma, scompone, e riproduce il mondo.\ 
 
 It is with this passion as with the Amreeta 
 in Southey's Hindoo tale, the most original 
 of his poems ; its effects are beneficial or 
 malignant according to the subject on which 
 it acts. In this respect Love may also be 
 likened to the Sun, under whose influence 
 one plant elaborates nutriment for man, and 
 another poison ; and which, while it draws 
 up pestilence from the marsh and jungle, and 
 sets the simoom in motion over the desert, 
 diffuses light, life, and happiness over the 
 healthy and cultivated regions of the earth. 
 
 It acts terribly upon Poets. Poor crea- 
 tures, nothing in the whole details of the 
 Ten Persecutions, or the history of the 
 Spanish Inquisition, is more shocking than 
 what they have suffered from Love, accord- 
 ing to the statements which they have given 
 of their own sufferings. They have endured 
 scorching, frying, roasting, burning, some- 
 times by a slow fire, sometimes by a quick 
 one ; and melting, and this too from a fire, 
 
 BEACMONT and FLETCHER. 
 
 f METASTASIO.
 
 162 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 which, while it thus affects the heart and 
 liver, raises not a blister upon the skin ; re- 
 sembling in this respect that penal fire which 
 certain theological writers describe as being 
 more intense because it is invisible, exist- 
 ing not in form, but in essence, and acting 
 therefore upon spirit as material and visible 
 fire acts upon the body. Sometimes they 
 have undergone from the same cause all the 
 horrors of freezing and petrifaction. Very 
 frequently the brain is affected ; and one 
 peculiar symptom of the insanity arising 
 from this cause, is that the patients are sen- 
 sible of it, and appear to boast of their mis- 
 fortune. 
 
 Hear how it operated upon Lord Brooke, 
 who is called the most thoughtful of poets, 
 by the most bookful of Laureates. The said 
 Lord Brooke in his love, and in his thought- 
 fulness, confesseth thus ; 
 
 I sigh ; I sorrow; I do play the fool 1 
 
 Hear how the grave the learned Pasquier 
 describes its terrible effects upon himself 
 
 Jd je sens en mes os uneflamme nouvette 
 
 Qui me mine, qui m'ard, qui brusle ma mouelle. 
 
 Hear its worse moral consequences, which 
 Euphues avowed in his wicked days ! " Pie 
 that cannot dissemble in love is not worthy 
 to live. I am of this mind, that both might 
 and malice, deceit and treachery, all perjury 
 and impiety, may lawfully be committed in 
 love, which is lawless." 
 
 Hear too how Ben Jonson makes the Lady 
 Frampul express her feelings ! 
 
 My fires and fears are met : I burn and freeze ; 
 My liver's one great coal, my heart shrunk un 
 With all the fibres ; and the mass of blood 
 Within me is a standing lake of fire, 
 Curl'd with the cold wind of my gelid sighs, 
 That drive a diift of sleet through all my body 
 And shoot a February through my veins. 
 
 And hear how Artemidorus, not the oneiro- 
 logist, but the great philosopher at the 
 Court of the Emperor Sferamond, describes 
 the appearances which he had observed in 
 dissecting some of those unfortunate per- 
 sons, who had died of love : Quant a man 
 regard, says he, fen ay veu faire anatomie 
 de quclques uns qui estoient marts de cette 
 maladie, qui avoient leurs entrailles toutes re- 
 
 tirees, leur pauvre cceur tout brusle, leur foye 
 toute enfume, leurs poulmons tout rostis, lex 
 ventricules de leurs ceroeaux tons endom- 
 magcz ; et je croy que leur pauvre ame etoit 
 cuite et arse a petite feu, pour la vehemence et 
 excessif chaleur et ardeur inextinguible quails 
 enduroient lors que lajievre d 1 amour les avoit 
 surprins* 
 
 But the most awful description of its 
 dangerous operation upon persons of his 
 own class is given by the Prince of the 
 French Poets, not undeservedly so called in 
 his own times. Describing the effect of love 
 upon himself when he is in the presence of 
 his mistress, Ronsard says, 
 
 Tani s'enfaul queje sois alnrs maistre de moy, 
 Queje nfrois les Dieux, et trahirois man Roy, 
 Je vendrois man pay,je meurtrirois man pere ; 
 Telle rage me tient apres que fay taste 
 A longs traits amoureux de la poison atnere 
 Qui sort de ces beaux yeux dontje suis encfiante. 
 
 Mercy on us ! neither Petrarch, nor poor 
 Abel Shufflebottom himself, was so far gone 
 as this ! 
 
 In a diseased heart it loses its nature, and 
 combining with the morbid affection which 
 it finds, produces a new disease. 
 
 When it gets into an empty heart, it 
 works there like quicksilver in an apple 
 dumpling, while the astonished cook, ignorant 
 of the roguery which has been played her. 
 thinks that there is not Death, but the Devil 
 in the pot. 
 
 In a full heart, which is tantamount to 
 saying a virtuous one, (for in every other, 
 conscience keeps a void place for itself, and 
 the hollow is always felt,) it is sedative, 
 sanative, and preservative : a drop of the 
 true elixir, no mithridate so effectual against 
 the infection of vice. 
 
 How then did this passion act upon Leo- 
 nard and Margaret? In a manner which 
 you will not find described in any of Mr. 
 Thomas Moore's poems; and which Lord 
 Byron is as incapable of understanding, or 
 even believing in another, as he is of feeling 
 it in himself. 
 
 * AMADIS DE GAUI B. Liv. 23.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 163 
 
 ~l 
 
 CHAPTER LXXVII. 
 
 MORE CONCERNING LOVE AND THE DREAM 
 Of LIFE. 
 
 Happy the bonds that hold ye ; 
 Sure they be sweeter far than liberty. 
 There is no blessedness but in such bondage ; 
 Happy that happy chain ; such links are heavenly. 
 
 BEAUMONT and FLETCHER. 
 
 I WILL not describe the subsequent inter- 
 views between Leonard and his cousin, short 
 and broken but precious as they were ; nor 
 that parting one in which hands were plighted, 
 with the sure and certain knowledge that 
 hearts had been interchanged. Remembrance 
 will enable some of my readers to portray 
 the scene, and then perhaps a sigh may be 
 heaved for the days that are gone : Hope 
 will picture it to others, and with them 
 the sigh will be for the days that are to come. 
 There was not that indefinite deferment 
 of hope in this case at which the heart sick- 
 ens. Leonard had been bred up in poverty 
 from his childhood ; a parsimonious allow- 
 ance, grudgingly bestowed, had contributed 
 to keep him frugal at College, by calling 
 forth a pardonable if not a commendable 
 sense of pride in aid of a worthier principle. 
 He knew that he could rely upon him- 
 self for frugality, industry, and a cheerful 
 as well as a contented mind. He had seen 
 the miserable state of bondage in which 
 Margaret existed with her Aunt, and his 
 resolution was made to deliver her from that 
 bondage as soon as he could obtain the 
 smallest benefice on which it was possible 
 for them to subsist. They agreed to live 
 rigorously within their means, however poor, 
 and put their trust in Providence. They 
 could not be deceived in each other, for 
 they had grown up together; and they 
 knew that they were not deceived in them- 
 selves. Their love had the freshness of 
 youth, but prudence and forethought were 
 not wanting; the resolution which they 
 had taken brought with it peace of mind, 
 and no misgiving was felt in either heart 
 when they prayed for a blessing upon their 
 purpose. In reality it had already brought 
 a blessing with it ; and this they felt ; for 
 
 love, when it deserves that name, produces 
 in us what may be called a regeneration of 
 its own, a second birth, dimly, but yet 
 in some degree, resembling that which is 
 effected by Divine Love when its redeeming 
 work is accomplished in the soul. 
 
 Leonard returned to Oxford happier than 
 all this world's wealth or this world's hon- 
 ours could have made him. He had now a 
 definite and attainable hope, an object in 
 life which gave to life itself a value. For 
 Margaret, the world no longer seemed to 
 her like the same earth which she had 
 till then inhabited. Hitherto she had felt 
 herself a forlorn and solitary creature, with- 
 out a friend; and the sweet sounds and 
 pleasant objects of nature had imparted 
 as little cheerfulness to her as to the debtor 
 who sees green fields in sunshine from his 
 prison, and hears the lark singing at liberty. 
 Her heart was open now to all the exhilar- 
 ating and all the softening influences of birds, 
 fields, flowers, vernal suns, and melodious 
 streams. She was subject to the same daily 
 and hourly exercise of meekness, patience, 
 and humility ; but the trial was no longer 
 painful ; with love in her heart, and hope and 
 sunshine in her prospect, she found even a 
 pleasure in contrasting her present condition 
 with that which was in store for her. 
 
 In these our days every young lady holds 
 the pen of a ready writer, and words flow 
 from it as fast as it can indent its zigzag 
 lines, according to the reformed system of 
 writing, which said system improves hand- 
 writings by making them all alike and all 
 illegible. At that time women wrote better 
 and spelt worse : but letter writing was not 
 one of their accomplishments. It had not 
 yet become one of the general pleasures and 
 luxuries of life, perhaps the greatest grati- 
 fication which the progress of civilisation 
 has given us. There was then no mail 
 coach to waft a sigh across the country at 
 the rate of eight miles an hour. Letters 
 came slowly and with long intervals be- 
 tween ; but when they came, the happiness 
 which they imparted to Leonard and Mar- 
 garet lasted during the interval, however 
 long. To Leonard it was as an exhilarant and
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 a cordial which rejoiced and strengthened 
 him. He trod the earth with a lighter and 
 more elated movement on the day when he 
 received a letter from Margaret, as if he felt 
 himself invested with an importance which 
 he had never possessed till the happiness of 
 another human being was inseparably asso- 
 ciated with his own ; 
 
 So proud a thing it was for him to wear 
 
 Love's golden chain, 
 With which it is best freedom to be bound.* 
 
 Happy, indeed, if there be happiness on 
 earth, as that same sweet poet says, is he, 
 
 Who love enjoys, and placed hath his mind 
 Where fairest virtues fairest beauties grace, 
 
 Then in himself such store of worth doth find 
 That he deserves to find so good a place.* 
 
 This was Leonard's case ; and when he 
 kissed the paper, which her hand had 
 pressed, it was with a consciousness of the 
 strength and sincerity of his affection, which 
 at once rejoiced and fortified his heart. To 
 Margaret his letters were like summer dew 
 upon the herb that thirsts for such refresh- 
 ment. Whenever they arrived, a head-ache 
 became the cause or pretext for retiring 
 earlier than usual to her chamber, that she 
 might weep and dream over the precious 
 lines : 
 
 True gentle love is like the summer dew, 
 
 Which falls around when all is still and hush ; 
 And falls unseen until its bright drops strew 
 
 With odours, herb and flower, and bank and bush. 
 O love ! when womanhood is in the flush. 
 
 And man's a young and an unspotted thing, 
 His first-breathed word, and her half-conscious blush, 
 
 Are fair as light in heaven, or flowers in spring. t 
 
 INTERCHAPTER VII. 
 
 OBSOLETE ANTICIPATIONS ; BEING A LEAF 
 OUT OF AN OLD ALMANAC, WHICH, LIKE 
 OTHER OLD ALMANACS, THOUGH OUT OF 
 DATE IS NOT OUT OF USE. 
 
 If 
 
 You play before me, I shall often look on you, 
 
 1 give you that warning beforehand. 
 
 Take it not ill, my masters, I shall laugh at you, 
 
 And truly when I am least offended with you ; 
 
 It is my humour, MIDDLE-TO*. 
 
 WHEN St. Thomas Aquinas was asked in 
 what manner a man might best become 
 
 * DCUMMOND. 
 
 t ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. 
 
 learned, he answered, "by reading one book ;" 
 " meaning," says Bishop Taylor, " that an 
 understanding entertained with several ob- 
 jects is intent upon neither, and profits not." 
 Lord Holland's poet, the prolific Lope de 
 Vega, tells us to the same purport : 
 
 due es estudiante notable 
 El que lo es de un libra solo. 
 Que qtiando no estavan llenot 
 De tantos librui agenos, 
 Como van dexando atras, 
 Sabian los hombres mns 
 Porque estudiavan en menot. 
 
 The homo unius libri is indeed proverbially 
 formidable to all conversational figurantes. 
 Like your sharp-shooter, he knows his piece 
 perfectly, and is sure of his shot. I would, 
 therefore, modestly insinuate to the reader 
 what infinite advantages would be possessed 
 by that fortunate person who shall be the 
 homo hujus libri. 
 
 According to the Lawyers the King's 
 eldest son is for certain purposes of full age 
 as soon as he is born, great being the mys- 
 teries of Law ! I will not assume that in 
 like manner hie liber is at once to acquire 
 maturity of fame ; for fame, like the oak, is 
 not the product of a single generation ; and 
 a new book in its reputation is but as an 
 acorn, the full growth of which can be known 
 only by posterity. The Doctor will not 
 make so great a sensation upon its first ap- 
 pearance as Mr. Southey's Wat Tyler, or 
 the first two Cantos of Don Juan ; still less 
 will it be talked of so universally as the 
 murder of Mr. Weire. Talked of, however, 
 it will be widely, largely, loudly and length- 
 ily talked of: lauded and vituperated, vilified 
 and extolled, heartily abused, and no less 
 heartily admired. 
 
 Thus much is quite certain, that before it 
 has been published a week, eight persons 
 will be named as having written it; and 
 these eight positive lies will be affirmed each 
 as positive truths on positive knowledge. 
 
 Within the month Mr. Woodbee will write 
 to one Marquis, one Earl, two Bishops, and 
 two Reviewers-Major, assuring them that 
 he is not the Author. Mr. Sligo will cau- 
 tiously avoid making any such declaration, 
 and will take occasion significantly to remark
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 165 
 
 upon the exceeding impropriety of saying 
 to any person that a work which has been 
 published anonymously is supposed to be 
 his. He will observe also, that it is alto- 
 gether unwarrantable to ask any one, under 
 such circumstances, whether the report be 
 true. Mr. Blueman's opinion of the book 
 will be asked by four-and-twenty female 
 correspondents, all of the order of the 
 stocking. 
 
 Professor Wilson will give it his hearty 
 praise. Sir Walter Scott will deny that he 
 has any hand in it. Mr. Coleridge will smile 
 if he is asked the question. If it be pro- 
 posed to Sir Humphry Davy he will smile 
 too, and perhaps blush also. The Laureate 
 will observe a careless silence ; Mr. Words- 
 worth a dignified one. And Professor Por- 
 son, if he were not gone where his Greek 
 is of no use to him, would accept credit for 
 it, though he would not claim it. 
 
 The Opium-Eater, while he peruses it, 
 will doubt whether there is a book in his 
 hand, or whether he be not in a dream of 
 intellectual delight. 
 
 "My little more than nothing" Jeffrey 
 the second (for of the small Jeffreys, 
 Jeffrey Hudson must always be the first) 
 will look less when he pops upon his own 
 name in its pages. Sir Jeffrey Dunstan is 
 Jeffrey the third : he must have been placed 
 second in right of seniority, had it not been 
 for the profound respect with which I regard 
 the University of Glasgow. The Rector of 
 Glasgow takes precedence of the Mayor of 
 Garratt. 
 
 And what will the Reviewers do ? I speak 
 not of those who come to their office, (for 
 such there are, though few,) like Judges to 
 the bench, stored with all competent know- 
 ledge and in an equitable mind ; prejudging 
 nothing, however much they may foreknow ; 
 and who give their sentence without regard 
 to persons, upon the merits of the case ; 
 but the aspirants and wranglers at the bar, 
 the dribblers and the spit-fires, (there are 
 of both sorts;) the puppies who bite for 
 the pleasure which they feel in exercising 
 their teeth, and the dogs whose gratification 
 consists in their knowledge of the pain and 
 
 injury that they inflict; the creepers of 
 literature, who suck their food, like the ivy, 
 from what they strangulate and kill ; they 
 who have a party to serve, or an opponent 
 to run down ; what opinion will they pro- 
 nounce in their utter ignorance of the author ? 
 They cannot play without a bias in their 
 bowls ! Ay, there's the rub! 
 
 Ha ha, ha ha ! this World doth pass 
 
 Most merrily, I'll be sworn, 
 For many an honest Indian Ass 
 
 Goes for a Unicorn. 
 Farra diddle dyno, 
 This is idle fyno ! 
 Tygh hygh, tygh hygh ! O sweet delight ! 
 
 He tickles this age that can 
 Call Tullia's ape a marmasite, 
 
 And Leda's goose a swan.* 
 
 Then the discussion that this book will 
 excite among bluestockings, and blue beards! 
 The stir f the buzz ! the bustle ! The talk 
 at tea tables in the country, and conversazione 
 in town, in Mr. Murray's room, at Mr. 
 Longman's dinners, in Mr. Hatchard's shop, 
 at the Royal Institution, at the Alfred, 
 at the Admiralty, at Holland House ! Have 
 you seen it ? Do you understand it ? Are 
 you not disgusted with it ? Are you not 
 provoked at it ? Are you not delighted 
 with it ? Whose is it ? Whose can it be ? 
 
 Is it Walter Scott's ? There is no Scotch 
 in the book ; and that hand is never to be 
 mistaken in its masterly strokes. Is it Lord 
 Byron's ? Lord Byron's ! Why the Au- 
 thor fears God, honours the King, and loves 
 his country and his kind. Is it by Little 
 Moore ? If it were, we should have senti- 
 mental lewdness, Irish patriotism, which is 
 something very like British treason, and a 
 plentiful spicing of personal insults to the 
 Prince Regent. Is it the Laureate ? He 
 lies buried under his own historical quartos ! 
 There is neither his mannerism, nor his 
 moralism, nor his methodism. Is it Words- 
 worth ? What, an Elephant cutting ca- 
 pers on the slack wire ! Is it Coleridge ? 
 The method indeed of the book might lead 
 to such a suspicion, but then it is intelli- 
 gible throughout. Mr. A ? there 
 
 is Latin in it. Mr. B ? there is 
 
 * BRITISH BIBLIOGRAPHER.
 
 166 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Greek in it. Mr. C- 
 
 ? it is written 
 
 in good English. Mr. Hazlitt ? It contains 
 no panegyric upon Bonaparte ; no imitations 
 of Charles Lamb ; no plagiarisms from Mr. 
 Coleridge's conversation ; no abuse of that 
 gentleman, Mr. Southey and Mr. Words- 
 worth, and no repetitions of himself. Cer- 
 tainly, therefore, it is not Mr. Hazlitt's. 
 Is it Charles Lamb ? 
 
 Baa ! Baa ! good Sheep, have you any wool ? 
 Yes marry, that I have, three bags full. 
 
 Good Sheep I write here, in emendation 
 of the nursery song ; because nobody ought 
 to call this Lamb a black one. 
 
 Comes it from the Admiralty ? There 
 indeed wit enough might be found and 
 acuteness enough, and enough of sagacity, 
 and enough of knowledge both of books and 
 men ; but when 
 
 The Raven croaked as she sate at her meal 
 And the Old Woman knew what he said, * 
 
 the Old Woman knew also by the tone who 
 said it. 
 
 Does it contain the knowledge, learning, 
 wit, sprightliness, and good sense, which that 
 distinguished patron of letters my Lord 
 Puttiface Papinhead has so successfully con- 
 cealed from the public and from all his most 
 intimate acquaintance during his whole life ? 
 
 Is it Theodore Hook with the learned 
 assistance of his brother the Archdeacon? 
 A good guess that of the Hook : have an 
 eye to it ! 
 
 " I guess it is our Washington Irving," 
 says the New Englander. The Virginian 
 replies, " I reckon it may be ; " and they 
 agree that none of the Old Country Authors 
 are worthy to be compared with him. 
 
 Is it Smith? 
 
 Which of the Smiths? for they are a 
 numerous people. To say nothing of Black 
 Smiths, White Smiths, Gold Smiths, and 
 Silver Smiths, there is Sydney, who is Joke- 
 Smith to the Edinburgh Review; and 
 William, who is Motion Smith to the Dis- 
 senters Orthodox and Heterodox, in Par- 
 liament, having been elected to represent 
 
 SOUTHEY. 
 
 them, to wit, the aforesaid Dissenters 
 by the citizens of Norwich. And there is 
 Cher Bobus who works for nobody ; and 
 there is Horace and his brother James, who 
 work in Colburn's forge at the sign of the 
 Camel. You probably meant these brothers; 
 they are clever fellows, with wit and humour 
 as fluent as their ink ; and to their praise be 
 it spoken with no gall in it. But their wares 
 are of a very different quality. 
 
 Is it the Author of Thinks I to myself? 
 " Think you so," says I to myself I. Or the 
 Author of the Miseries of Human Life? 
 George Colman? Wrangham, unfrocked 
 and in his lighter moods ? Yorick of Dublin? 
 Dr. Clarke? Dr. Busby ? The Author of My 
 Pocket Book ? D'Israeli ? Or that pheno- 
 menon of eloquence, the celebrated Irish 
 Barrister, Counsellor Phillips ? Or may it not 
 be the joint composition of Sir Charles and 
 Lady Morgan ? he compounding the specu- 
 lative, scientific, and erudite ingredients ; 
 she intermingling the lighter parts, and in- 
 fusing her own grace, airiness, vivacity, and 
 spirit through the whole. A well-aimed 
 guess : for they would throw out opinions 
 differing from their own, as ships in time of 
 war hoist false colours ; and thus they would 
 enjoy the baffled curiosity of those wide 
 circles of literature and fashion in which 
 they move with such enviable distinction 
 both at home and abroad. 
 
 Is it Mr. Mathurin ? Is it Hans Busk? 
 
 Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny bonny bride, 
 Busk ye, my winsome marrow ! 
 
 Is it he who wrote of a World without 
 Souls, and made the Velvet Cushion relate 
 its adventures ? 
 
 Is it Rogers? The wit and the feeling 
 of the book may fairly lead to such an 
 ascription, if there be sarcasm enough to 
 support it. So may the Pleasures of Me- 
 mory which the Author has evidently en- 
 joyed during the composition. 
 
 Is it Mr. Utinam? He would have written 
 it, if he could. Is it Hookham Frere? 
 He could have written it, if he would. 
 Has Matthias taken up a new Pursuit in 
 Literature ? Or has William Bankes been 
 trying the experiment whether he can im-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 167 
 
 part as much amusement and instruction by 
 writing, as in conversation ? 
 
 Or is it some new genius " breaking out 
 at once like the Irish Rebellion a hundred 
 thousand strong ? " Not one of the Planets, 
 nor fixed stars of our Literary System, but 
 a Comet as brilliant as it is eccentric in its 
 course. 
 
 Away the dogs go, whining here, snuffing 
 there, nosing in this place, pricking their 
 ears in that, and now full-mouthed upon a 
 false scent, and now again all at fault. 
 
 Oh the delight of walking invisible among 
 mankind ! 
 
 " Whoever he be," says Father O'Faggot, 
 " he is an audacious heretic." " A school- 
 master, by his learning," says Dr. Fullbot- 
 toin Wigsby. The Bishop would take him 
 for a Divine, if there were not sometimes a 
 degree of levity in the book, which, though 
 always innocent, is not altogether consistent 
 with the gown. Sir Fingerfec Dolittle dis- 
 covers evident marks of the medical pro- 
 fession. "He has manifestly been a traveller," 
 says the General, " and lived in the World." 
 The man of letters says it would not sur- 
 prise him if it were the work of a learned 
 Jew. Mr. Dullman sees nothing in the book 
 to excite the smallest curiosity; he really 
 does not understand it, and doubts whether 
 the Author himself knew what he would be 
 at. Mr. M c Dry declares, with a harsh 
 Scotch accent, " It's just parfit nonsense." 
 
 INTERCHAPTER VTLL 
 
 A LEAF OUT OF THE NEW ALMANAC. THE 
 AUTHOR THINKS CONSIDERATELY OF HIS 
 COMMENTATORS ; RUMINATES ; RELATES AN 
 ANECDOTE OF SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE ; 
 QUOTES SOME PYRAMIDAL STANZAS, WHICH 
 ARE NOT THE WORSE FOR THEIR ARCHI- 
 TECTURE, AND DELIVERS AN OPINION CON- 
 CERNING BURNS. 
 
 To smell to a turf of fresh earth is wholesome for the 
 body ; no less are thoughts of mortality cordial to the 
 Soul. Earth thou art, to earth thou shall return. 
 
 FULLER. 
 
 THE Commentators in the next millennium, 
 and even in the next century, will, I foresee, 
 
 have no little difficulty, in settling the 
 chronology of this opus. I do not mean the 
 time of its conception, the very day and 
 hour of that happy event having been re- 
 corded in the seventh chapter, A. I. : nor 
 the tune of its birth, that, as has been re- 
 gistered in the weekly Literary Journals, 
 having been in the second week of January, 
 1 834. But at what intervening times certain 
 of its Chapters and Interchapters were 
 composed. 
 
 A similar difficulty has been found with 
 the Psalms, the Odes of Horace, Shake- 
 speare's Plays, and other writings sacred or 
 profane, of such celebrity as to make the 
 critical inquiry an object of reasonable cu- 
 riosity, or of real moment. 
 
 They, however, who peruse the present 
 volume while it is yet a new book, will at 
 once have perceived that between the com- 
 position of the preceding Chapter and their 
 perusal thereof, an interval as long as one 
 of Nourjahad's judicial visitations of sleep 
 must have elapsed. For many of the great 
 performers who figured upon the theatre of 
 public life when the anticipations in that 
 Chapter were expressed, have made their 
 exits; and others who are not there men- 
 tioned, have since that time made their 
 entrances. 
 
 The children of that day have reached 
 their stage of adolescence; the youth are 
 now in mid life; the middle-aged have 
 grown old, and the old have passed away. 
 I say nothing of the political changes that 
 have intervened. Who can bestow a thought 
 upon the pantomime of politics, when his 
 mind is fixed upon the tragedy of human 
 life? 
 
 Robert Landor (a true poet like his great 
 brother, if ever there was one) says finely in 
 his Impious Banquet, 
 
 There is a pause near death when men grow bold 
 Toward all things else : 
 
 Before that awful pause, whenever the 
 thought is brought home to us, we feel our- 
 selves near enough to grow indifferent to 
 them, and to perceive the vanity of all 
 earthly pursuits, those only excepted which 
 have the good of our fellow creatures for
 
 168 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 their object, and tend to our own spiritual 
 improvement. 
 
 But this is entering upon a strain too 
 sei'ious for this place ; though any reflection 
 upon the lapse of time and the changes that 
 steal on us in its silent course leads naturally 
 to such thoughts. 
 
 Omnfa ptmlatim consumit longior (Etas, 
 Vivendoque simul morimur, rapimurque manendo. 
 Ipse mihi collates enim non tile vidcbor ; 
 Prons alia ett. moresque alii, nova mentis imago, 
 Voxque aliud mutata sonat.* 
 
 Sir Thomas Lawrence was told one day 
 that he had made a portrait, which he was 
 then finishing, ten years too young. " Well," 
 he replied, " I have ; and I see no reason 
 why it should not be made so." There was 
 this reason : ten years, if they bring with 
 them only their ordinary portion of evil and 
 of good, cannot pass over any one's head 
 without leaving their moral as well as phy- 
 sical traces, especially if they have been 
 years of active and intellectual life. The 
 painter, therefore, who dips his brush in 
 Medea's kettle, neither represents the coun- 
 tenance as it is, nor as it has been. 
 
 " And what does that signify ? " Sir 
 Thomas might ask in rejoinder. What in- 
 deed! Little to any one at present, and 
 nothing when the very few who are con- 
 cerned in it shall have passed away, ex- 
 cept to the artist. The merits of his picture 
 as a work of art are all that will then be 
 considered ;' its fidelity as a likeness will be 
 taken for granted, or be thought of as little 
 consequence as in reality it then is. 
 
 Yet if Titian or Vandyke had painted 
 upon such a principle, their portraits would 
 not have been esteemed as they now are. 
 We should not have felt the certainty which 
 we now feel, that in looking at the pictures 
 of the Emperor Charles V. and of Cortes ; 
 of King Charles the Martyr, and of Strafford, 
 we see the veritable likeness and true cha- 
 racter of those ever-memorable personages. 
 
 Think of the changes that any ten years 
 in the course of human life produce in body 
 and in mind, and in the face, which is in a 
 certain degree the index of both. From 
 
 * PETRARCH. 
 
 thirty to forty is the decade during which 
 the least outward and visible alteration 
 takes place ; and yet how perceptible is it 
 even during that stage in every countenance 
 that is composed of good flesh and blood ! 
 For I do not speak of those which look as if 
 they had been hewn out of granite t cut out 
 of a block, cast in bronze, or moulded either 
 in wax, tallow, or paste. 
 
 Ten years ! 
 
 Quarles in those Hieroglyphics of the Life 
 of Man, which he presents to the Reader as an 
 Egyptian dish dressed in the English fashion, 
 symbolises it by the similitude of a taper 
 divided into eight equal lengths, which are 
 to burn for ten years each, if the candle 
 be not either wasted, or blown out by the 
 wind, or snuffed out by an unskilful hand, 
 or douted (to use a good old word) with 
 an extinguisher, before it is burned down to 
 the socket. The poem which accompanies 
 the first print of the series begins thus, in 
 pyramidal stanzas ; such they were designed 
 to be, but their form resembles that of an 
 Aztecan or Mexican Cu, rather than of an 
 Egyptian pyramid. 
 
 1. 
 
 Behold 
 
 How short a span 
 
 Was long enough of old 
 
 To measure out the life of man ! 
 
 In those well-temper'd days, his time was then 
 
 Surveyed, cast up, and found but threescore years and ten. 
 
 2. 
 
 Alas 
 
 And what is that ! 
 
 They come and slide and pass 
 
 Before my pen can tell thee what. 
 
 The posts of life are swift, which having run 
 
 Their seven short stages o'er, their short-liv'd task is done. 
 
 " I had an old grand-uncle," says Burns, 
 " with whom my mother lived awhile in her 
 girlish years. The good man was long blind 
 ere he died, during which time his highest 
 enjoyment was to sit down and cry, while 
 my mother would sing the simple old song 
 of the Life and Age of Man." 
 
 It is certain that this old song was in 
 Burns's mind when he composed to the 
 same cadence those well-known stanzas of 
 which the burthen is that " man was made 
 to mourn." But the old blind man's tears 
 were tears of piety, not of regret ; it was his
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 169 
 
 greatest enjoyment thus to listen and to 
 weep; and his heart the while was not so much 
 in the past, as his hopes were in the future. 
 They were patient hopes ; he knew in Whom 
 he believed, and was awaiting his deliverance 
 in God's good time. Sunt homines qui cum 
 patientia moriuntur ; sunt autem quidam per- 
 fecti qui cum patientia vivunt* Burns may 
 perhaps have been conscious in his better 
 hours (and he had many such), that he had 
 inherited the feeling (if not the sober piety) 
 which is so touchingly exemplified in this 
 family anecdote; that it was the main in- 
 gredient in the athanasia of his own incom- 
 parable effusions ; and that without it he 
 never could have been the moral, and 
 therefore never the truly great poet that he 
 eminently is. 
 
 INTERCHAPTER IX. 
 
 AN ILLUSTRATION FOE THE ASSISTANCE OF 
 THE COMMENTATORS DBAWN FROM THE 
 HISTORY OF THE KORAN. REMARKS WHICH 
 ARE NOT INTENDED FOR MUSSELMEN, AND 
 WHICH THE MISSIONARIES IN THE MEDI- 
 TERRANEAN ARE ADVISED NOT TO TRANS- 
 LATE. 
 
 You will excuse me if I do not strictly confine myself 
 to narration, but now and then intersperse such reflections 
 as may offer while I am writing. JOHN NEWTON. 
 
 BUT the most illustrious exemplification of 
 the difficulty which the Doctorean or Dovean 
 commentators will experience in settling the 
 chronology of these chapters, is to be found 
 in the history of the Koran. 
 
 Mahomrnedan Doctors are agreed that 
 the first part or parcel of their sacred book 
 which was revealed to the prophet, consisted 
 of what now stands as the first five verses 
 of the ninety-sixth chapter ; and that the 
 chapter which ought to be the last of the 
 whole hundred and fourteen, because it was 
 the last which Mahommed delivered, is 
 placed as the ninth in order. 
 
 The manner in which the book was origi- 
 
 Sr. AUGUSTIW. 
 
 nally produced, and afterwards put together, 
 explains how this happened. 
 
 Whenever the Impostor found it conve- 
 nient to issue a portion, one of his disciples 
 wrote it, from his dictation, either upon 
 palm-leaves or parchment, and these were 
 put promiscuously into a chest. After his 
 death Abubeker collected them into a volume, 
 but with so little regard to any principle of 
 order or connection, that the only rule which 
 he is supposed to have followed was that of 
 placing the longest chapters first. 
 
 Upon this M. Savary remarks, ce boule- 
 versement dans un ouvrage qui est un recueil 
 de preceptes donnes dans differens temps et 
 dont les premiers sont souvent abroges par les 
 suivans, y ajette la plus grand confusion. On 
 ne doit done y chercher ni ordre ni suit. And 
 yet one of the chapters opens with the asser- 
 tion that " a judicious order reigns in this 
 book," according to Savary's version, which 
 here follows those commentators who prefer 
 this among the five interpretations which the 
 words may bear. 
 
 Abubeker no doubt was of opinion that it 
 was impossible to put the book together in 
 any way that could detract from its value 
 and its use. If he were, as there is every 
 reason to think, a true believer, he would 
 infer that the same divine power which re- 
 vealed it piece-meal would preside over the 
 arrangement, and that the earthly copy 
 would thus miraculously be made a faith- 
 ful transcript of the eternal and uncreated 
 original. 
 
 If, on the other hand, he had been as 
 audacious a knave as his son-in-law, the 
 false prophet himself, he would have come 
 with equal certainty to the same conclusion 
 by a different process : for he would have 
 known that if the separate portions, when 
 they were taken out of the chest, had been 
 shuffled and dealt like a pack of cards, they 
 would have been just as well assorted as it 
 was possible to assort them. 
 
 A north-country dame in days of old 
 economy, when the tailor worked for women 
 as well as men, delivered one of her nether 
 garments to a professor of the sartorial art 
 with these directions :
 
 170 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 " Here Talleor, tak this petcut ; thoo mun 
 bin' me't, and thoo mun tap-bin' me't ; thoo 
 mun turn me't rangsid afoor, tapsid bottom, 
 insid oot : thoo can do't, thoo mun do't, and 
 thoo mun do't speedly." Neither Bonaparte 
 nor Wellington ever gave their orders on the 
 field of battle with more precision, or more 
 emphatic and authoritative conciseness. 
 
 Less contrivance was required for editing 
 the Koran, than for renovating this petti- 
 coat : the Commander of the Faithful had 
 only to stitch it together and bin' me't. 
 
 The fable is no doubt later than Abubek- 
 er's time that the first transcript of this book 
 from its eternal and uncreated original in 
 the very essence of the Deity, is on the Pre- 
 served Table, fast by the throne of God ; on 
 which Table all the divine decrees'of things 
 past, passing, and to come, are recorded. 
 The size of the Table may be estimated by 
 that of the Pen wherewith these things were 
 written on it. The Great Pen was one of 
 the first three created things ; it is in length 
 five hundred years' journey, and in breadth, 
 eighty ; and I suppose the rate of an Angel's 
 travelling is intended, which considerably 
 exceeds that of a rail-road, a race-horse, or 
 a carrier-pigeon. A copy of the Koran, 
 transcribed upon some celestial material from 
 this original on the Preserved Table, bound 
 in silk, and ornamented with gold and set 
 with precious stones from Paradise, was 
 shown to the Prophet by the Angel Gabriel, 
 once a year, for his consolation, and twice 
 during the last year of his life. 
 
 Far later is the legend transmitted by the 
 Spanish Moor, Mahomet Rabadan, that Oth- 
 man arranged the fragments and copied 
 them in the Prophet's life-time ; and that 
 when this transcript was completed, Gabriel 
 presented the Prophet with another copy of 
 the whole, written by his own arch-angelic 
 hand in heaven, whereby the greatest honour 
 and most perfect satisfaction that could be 
 given to man were imparted, and the most 
 conclusive proof afforded of the fidelity with 
 which Othman had executed his holy task. 
 For when his copy was collated with the 
 Angel's it was found to be so exact, " that 
 not the least tittle was variated or omitted, 
 
 but it seemed as if the same hand and pen 
 had written them both," the only difference 
 being in the size of the letters, and con- 
 sequently of the two books, and in their 
 legibility. 
 
 Gabriel's copy was contained in sixteen 
 leaves, the size of a Damascus coin, not 
 larger than an English shilling ; and the 
 strokes of the letters were so much finer 
 than any human hair or any visible thread, 
 that they are compared to the hairs of a ser- 
 pent, which are so fine that no microscope 
 has ever yet discovered them. They were 
 plainly legible to all who were pure and 
 undefiled ; but no unclean person could dis- 
 cern a single syllable, nor could any pen 
 ever be made fine enough to imitate such 
 writing. The ink was of a rich purple, the 
 cover of a bright chesnut colour. Mahom- 
 med continually carried this wonderful book 
 about him in his bosom, and when he slept 
 he had it always under his pillow or next 
 his heart. After his decease it disappeared, 
 nor though Othman and Ali diligently sought 
 for it could it ever be found; it was believed, 
 therefore, to have returned to the place from 
 whence it came. 
 
 But this is a legend of later date ; and 
 learned Mahommedans would reject it not 
 merely as being apocryphal, but as false. 
 
 Before I have done with the subject, let 
 me here, on the competent authority of 
 Major Edward Moore, inform the European 
 reader, who may be ignorant of Arabic, that 
 the name of the Arabian False Prophet is, 
 in the language of his own country, written 
 with four letters M. H. M. D. a charac- 
 ter called teshdid over the medial M de- 
 noting that sound to be prolonged or doubled ; 
 so that Mahammad would better than any 
 other spelling represent the current vernacu- 
 lar pronunciation. 
 
 Here let me observe by the way, that the 
 work which the reader has now the privi- 
 lege of perusing is as justly entitled to the 
 name of the Koran as the so-called pseudo- 
 bible itself, because the word signifies " that 
 which ought to be read ; " and, moreover, 
 that like the Musselman's Koran, it might 
 also be called Dhikr, which is, being inter-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 171 
 
 preted, ''the Admonition]' because of the 
 salutary instruction and advice which it is 
 intended to convey. 
 
 Take, if ye can, ye careless and supine, 
 Counsel and caution from a voice like mine 1 
 Truths that the theorist could never reach, 
 And observation taught me, I would teach.* 
 
 Having given the reader this timely inti- 
 mation, I shall now explain in what my 
 commentators will find a difficulty of the 
 same kind as that which Abubeker would 
 have had, if, in putting together the disor- 
 derly writings entrusted to his care, he had 
 endeavoured to arrange them according to 
 the order in which the several portions were 
 produced. 
 
 When Mahommed wanted to establish an 
 ordinance for his followers, or to take out 
 a licence for himself for the breach of his 
 own laws, as when he chose to have an extra 
 allowance of wives, or coveted those of his 
 neighbours, he used to promulgate a frag- 
 ment of the Koran, revealed pro re natd, 
 that is to say in honest old English, for the 
 nonce. It has been determined with suffi- 
 cient accuracy at what times certain portions 
 were composed, because the circumstances 
 in his public or private history which ren- 
 dered them necessary, or convenient, are 
 known. And what has been done with these 
 parts, might have been done with the whole, 
 if due pains had been taken, at a time when 
 persons were still living who knew when, and 
 why, every separate portion had been, as 
 they believed, revealed. This would have 
 required more diligence than the first Ca- 
 liph had either leisure or inclination to 
 bestow, and perhaps more sagacity than he 
 possessed ; the task would have been diffi- 
 cult, but it was possible. 
 
 But my commentators will never be able 
 to ascertain any thing more of the chronology 
 of this Koran, than the dates of its concep- 
 tion, and of its birth-day, the interval be- 
 tween them having been more than twenty 
 years. 
 
 INTERCHAPTER X. 
 
 MORE ON THE FOREGOING SUBJECT. ELUCI- 
 DATION FROM HENRY MORE AND DOCTOR 
 WATTS. AN INCIDENTAL OPINION UPON 
 HORACE WALPOLE. THE STREAM OF 
 THOUGHT "FLOWETH AH. ITS OWN SWEET 
 WILL." PICTURES AND BOOKS. A SATING 
 OF MR. PITT'S CONCERNING WILBERFORCE. 
 
 THE AUTHOR EXPLAINS IN WHAT SENSE 
 IT MIGHT BE SAID THAT HE SOMETIMES 
 SHOOTS WITH A LONG BOW. 
 
 Vorrei, disse il Signor Gasparo Pallavtctno, che voi 
 ragionassi tin poco piu minutamente di questo, che non 
 fate ; che en vero t>i tenete molto at generate, et quasi ci 
 mostrate le cose per transito. IL CORTEGIANO. 
 
 HENRY MORE, in the Preface General to 
 the collection of his philosophical writings, 
 says to the reader, " if thy curiosity be for- 
 ward to inquire what I have done in these 
 new editions of my books, I am ready to 
 inform thee that I have taken the same 
 liberty in this Intellectual Garden of my 
 own planting, that men usually take in their 
 natural ones ; which is, to set or pluck up, 
 to transplant and inoculate, where and what 
 they please. And therefore if I have rased 
 out some things, (which yet are but very 
 few) and transposed others, and interserted 
 others, I hope I shall seem injurious to no 
 man in ordering and cultivating this Philo- 
 sophical Plantation of mine according to 
 mine own humour and liking." 
 
 Except as to the rasing out, what our 
 great Platonist has thus said for himself, 
 may here be said for me. " Many things," 
 as the happy old lutanist, Thomas Mace, 
 says, " are good, yea, very good ; but yet 
 upon after-consideration we have met with 
 the comparative, which is better; yea, and 
 after that, with the superlative, (best of all), 
 by adding to, or altering a little, the same 
 good things." 
 
 During the years that this Opus has been 
 in hand (and in head and heart also) no- 
 thing "was expunged as if it had become 
 obsolete because the persons therein alluded 
 to had departed like shadows, or the subjects 
 there touched on had grown out of date ;
 
 172 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 but much was introduced from time to time 
 where it fitted best. Allusions occur in 
 relation to facts which are many years 
 younger than the body of the chapter in 
 which they have been grafted, thus render- 
 ing it impossible for any critic, however 
 acute, to determine the date of any one 
 chapter by its contents. 
 
 "What Watts has said of his own Treatise 
 upon the Improvement of the Mind may 
 therefore, with strict fidelity, be applied to 
 this book, which I trust, O gentle Reader, 
 thou wilt regard as specially conducive to 
 the improvement of thine. " The work was 
 composed at different times, and by slow 
 degrees. Now and then indeed it spread 
 itself into branches and leaves, like a plant 
 in April, and advanced seven or eight pages 
 in a week ; and sometimes it lay by without 
 growth, like a vegetable in the winter, and 
 did not increase half so much in the revolu- 
 tion of a year. As thoughts occurred to me 
 in reading or meditation, or in my notices 
 of the various appearances of things among 
 mankind, they were thrown under appropri- 
 ate heads, and were, by degrees, reduced 
 to such a method as the subject would 
 admit. The language and dress of these 
 sentiments is such as the present temper of 
 mind dictated, whether it were grave or 
 pleasant, severe or smiling. And a book 
 which has been twenty years in writing may 
 be indulged in some variety of style and 
 manner, though I hope there will not be 
 found any great difference of sentiment." 
 With little transposition Watts's words have 
 been made to suit my purpose ; and when 
 he afterwards speaks of " so many lines 
 altered, so many things interlined, and so 
 many paragraphs and pages here and there 
 inserted," the circumstances which he men- 
 tions as having deceived him in computing 
 the extent of his work, set forth the embar- 
 rassment which the commentators will find 
 in settling the chronology of mine. 
 
 The difficulty would not be obviated were 
 I, like Horace Walpole, (though Heaven 
 knows for no such motives as influenced that 
 posthumous libeller,) to leave a box con- 
 taining the holograph manuscript of this 
 
 Opus in safe custody, with an injunction 
 that the seals should not be broken till the 
 year of our Lord 2000. Nothing more than 
 what has been here stated would appear in 
 that inestimable manuscript. Whether I 
 shall leave it as an heir-loom in my family, 
 or have it deposited either in the public 
 library of my Alma Mater, or that of my 
 own College, or bequeath it as a last mark 
 of affection to the town of Doncaster, con- 
 cerns not the present reader. Nor does it 
 concern him to know whether the till-then- 
 undiscoverable name of the author will be 
 disclosed at the opening of the seals. An 
 adequate motive for placing the manuscript 
 in safe custody is, that a standard would 
 thus be secured for posterity whereby the 
 always accumulating errors of the press 
 might be corrected. For modern printers 
 make more and greater blunders than the 
 copyists of old. 
 
 In any of those works which posterity will 
 not be " willing to let perish," how greatly 
 would the interest be enhanced, if the whole 
 history of its rise and progress were known, 
 and amid what circumstances, and with 
 what views, and in what state of mind, 
 certain parts were composed. Sir Walter, 
 than whom no man ever took more accurate 
 measure of the public taste, knew this well ; 
 and posterity will always be grateful to him 
 for having employed his declining years in 
 communicating so much of the history of 
 those works which obtained a wider and 
 more rapid celebrity than any that ever 
 preceded them, and perhaps than any that 
 ever may follow them. 
 
 An author of the last generation, (I can- 
 not call to mind who,) treated such an opi- 
 nion with contempt, saying in his preface that 
 " there his work was, and that as the Public 
 were concerned with it only as it appeared 
 before them, he should say nothing that 
 would recal the blandishments of its child- 
 hood : " whether the book was one of which 
 the maturity might just as well be forgotten 
 as the nonage, I do not remember. But he 
 must be little versed in bibliology who has 
 not learnt that such reminiscences are not 
 more agreeable to an author himself, than
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 173 
 
 they are to his readers, (if he obtain any,) 
 in after times ; for every trifle that relates 
 to the history of a favourite author, and of 
 his works, then becomes precious. 
 
 Far be it for me to despise the relic- 
 mongers of literature, or to condemn them, 
 except when they bring to light things which 
 ought to have been buried with the dead ; 
 like the Dumfries craniologists, who, when 
 the grave of Burns was opened to receive 
 the corpse of his wife, took that opportunity 
 of abstracting the poet's skull that they 
 might make a cast from it ! Had these men 
 forgotten the malediction which Shakespeare 
 utters from his monument ? And had they 
 never read what Wordsworth says to such 
 men in his Poet's epitaph 
 
 Art thou one all eyes, 
 Philosopher ! a fingering slave, 
 One that would peep and botanize 
 Upon his mother's grave ? 
 
 Wrapt closely in thy sensual fleece, 
 O turn aside, and take, I pray, 
 That he below may rest in peace, 
 Thy pin-point of a soul away 1 
 
 O for an hour of Burns' for these men's 
 sake! Were there a Witch of Enclor in 
 Scotland it would be an act of comparative 
 piety in her to bring up his spirit ; to stig- 
 matise them in verses that would burn for 
 ever would be a gratification for which he 
 might think it worth while to be thus 
 brought again upon earth. 
 
 But to the harmless relic-mongers we owe 
 much ; much to the Thomas Hearnes and 
 John Nichols, the Isaac Reids and the 
 Malones, the Haslewoods and Sir Egertons. 
 Individually, I owe them much, and willingly 
 take this opportunity of acknowledging the 
 obligation. And let no one suppose that Sir 
 Egerton is disparaged by being thus classed 
 among the pioneers of literature. It is no 
 disparagement for any man of letters, how- 
 ever great his endowments, and however 
 extensive his erudition, to take part in those 
 patient and humble labours by which honour 
 is rendered to his predecessors, and informa- 
 tion preserved for those who come after him. 
 
 But in every original work which lives 
 and deserves to live, there must have been 
 some charms which no editorial diligence can 
 
 preserve, no critical sagacity recover. The 
 pictures of the old masters suffer much when 
 removed from the places for which they, and 
 in which many of them were painted. It 
 may happen that one which has been con- 
 veyed from a Spanish palace or monastery to 
 the collection of Marshal Soult, or any 
 other Plunder-Master-General in Napoleon's 
 armies, and have passed from thence, 
 honestly as regards the purchaser, to the 
 hands of an English owner, may be hung at 
 the same elevation as in its proper place, 
 and in the same light. Still it loses much. 
 The accompaniments are all of a different 
 character; the air and odour of the place 
 are different. There is not here the locality 
 that consecrated it, no longer the religio 
 loci. Wealth cannot purchase these ; power 
 may violate and destroy, but it cannot 
 transplant them. The picture in its new 
 situation is seen with a different feeling, by 
 those who have any true feeling for such 
 things. 
 
 Literary works of imagination, fancy, or 
 feeling, are liable to no injury of this kind ; 
 but in common with pictures they suffer a 
 partial deterioration in even a short lapse of 
 time. In such works as in pictures, there 
 are often passages which once possessed a 
 peculiar interest, personal and local, subor- 
 dinate to the general interest. The painter 
 introduced into an historical piece the por- 
 trait of his mistress, his wife, his child, his 
 dog, his friend, or his faithful servant. The 
 picture is not, as a work of art, the worse 
 where these persons were not known, or when 
 they are forgotten : but there was once a 
 time when it excited on this account in very 
 many beholders, a peculiar delight which it 
 can never more impart. 
 
 So it is with certain books : and though 
 there is perhaps little to regret in any thing 
 that becomes obsolete, an author may be 
 allowed to sigh over what he feels and knows 
 to be evanescent. 
 
 Mr. Pitt used to say of Wilberforce that 
 he was not so single minded in his speeches 
 as might have been expected from the sin- 
 cerity of his character, and as he would have 
 been if he had been less dependant upon
 
 174 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 popular support. Those who knew him, 
 and how he was connected, he said, could 
 perceive that some things in his best speeches 
 were intended to tell in such and such quar- 
 ters, upon Benjamin Sleek in one place, 
 Isaac Drab in another, and Neheminh Wily- 
 man in a third. Well would it be if no 
 man ever looked askant with worse motives! 
 
 Observe, Header, that I call him simply 
 Wilberforce, because any common prefix 
 would seem to disparage that name, espe- 
 cially if used by one who regarded him with 
 admiration ; and with respect, which is bet- 
 ter than admiration, because it can be felt 
 for those only whose virtues entitle them to 
 it ; and with kindliness, which is better than 
 both, because it is called forth by those 
 kindly qualities that are worth more than 
 any talents, and without which a man, 
 though he may be both great and good, 
 never can be amiable. No one was ever 
 blest with a larger portion of those gifts and 
 graces which make up the measure of an 
 amiable and happy man. 
 
 It will not be thought then that I have 
 repeated with any disrespectful intention 
 what was said of Wilberforce by Mr. Pitt. 
 The observation was brought to mind while 
 I was thinking how many passages in these 
 volumes were composed with a double in- 
 tention, one for the public and for posterity, 
 the other private and personal, written with 
 special pleasure on my part, speciali gratia, 
 for the sake of certain individuals. Some of 
 these, which are calculated for the meridian of 
 Doncaster, the commentators may possibly, 
 if they make due research, discover ; but 
 there are others which no ingenuity can 
 detect. Their quintessence exhales when 
 the private, which was in these cases the 
 primary, intention has been fulfilled. Yet 
 the consciousness of the emotions which 
 those passages will excite, the recollections 
 they will awaken, the surprise and the smile 
 with which they will be received, yea and 
 the melancholy gratification, even to tears, 
 which they will impart, has been one and j 
 not the least of the many pleasures which I 
 have experienced while employed upon this 
 work. 
 
 IloXXa u,oi utr 
 -t&s axia. ,ii).r, 
 
 But while thus declaring that these 
 volumes contain much covert intention of 
 this kind, I utterly disclaim all covert male- 
 volence. My roving shafts are more harm- 
 less even than bird bolts, and can hurt none 
 on whom they fall. The arrows with which 
 I take aim carry tokens of remembrance and 
 love, and may be likened to those by which 
 intelligence has been conveyed into besieged 
 places. Of such it is that I have been speak- 
 ing. Others, indeed, I have in the quiver 
 which are pointed and barbed. 
 
 if&Ot U.:* Sv Wloffftt, XKfT-tbl- 
 
 -ia.T<n fiiKof a,/.x Ti$u .* 
 
 When one of these is let fly, (with sure aim 
 and never without just cause,) it has its 
 address written on the shaft at full length, 
 like that which Aster directed from the 
 walls of Methone to Philip's right eye. 
 
 Or" c'est assez s' estre esgare de son grand 
 chemin: j'y retourne et le bats, et le trace 
 comme devant.\ 
 
 CHAPTER LXXVIII. 
 
 AMATORY POETET NOT ALWAYS OP THE 
 WISEST KIND. AN ATTEMPT TO CONVEY 
 SOME NOTION OF ITS QUANTITY. TRUE 
 LOVE, THOUGH NOT IN EVERY CASE THE 
 BEST POET, THE BEST MORALIST ALWAYS. 
 
 El Amor es tan ingenioso, que enmi opinion, maspoetas 
 ha hecho el solo, que la misma nnturalrza. 
 
 FEKEZ DE MONTALVAN. 
 
 I RETURN to the loves of Leonard and 
 Margaret. 
 
 That poet asked little from his mistress, 
 who entreated her to bestow upon him, not 
 a whole look, for this would have been too 
 great a mercy for a miserable lover, but 
 part of a look, whether it came from the 
 white of her eye, or the black, and if even 
 that, were too much, then he besought her 
 only to seem to look at him : 
 
 PINDAR. 
 
 t BRANTOME.
 
 THE DOCTOR, 
 
 17.5 
 
 Un guardo nn guardo f no, troppo pietate 
 
 E per mi'sero Amante un guardo intcro ; 
 Solo un de' vostri raggi, occhi girate, 
 
 O parle del 6el bianco, o del bel nero. 
 E se troppo vi par, n<>n mi mirate ; 
 
 Ma fate sol sembiante di mirarmi, 
 
 Che nolpoletefar senza bearmi.* 
 
 This is a new thought in amatory poetry ; 
 and the difficulty of striking out a new 
 thought in such poetry, is of all difficulties 
 the greatest. Think of a look from the 
 white of an eye ! Even part of a look, 
 however, is more than a lady will bestow 
 upon one whom she does not favour ; and 
 more than one whom she favours will con- 
 sent to part with. An Innamorato Furioso in 
 one of Dryden's tragedies says : 
 
 I'll not one corner of a glance resign ! 
 
 Poor Robert Greene, whose repentance 
 has not been disregarded by just posterity, 
 asked his mistress in his licentious days, to 
 look upon him with one eye, (no doubt he 
 meant a sheep's eye ;) this also was a new 
 thought ; and he gave the reason for his re- 
 quest in this sonnet 
 
 On women nature did bestow two eyes, 
 
 Like heaven's bright lamps, in matchless beauty shining, 
 
 Whose beams do soonest captivate the wise, 
 
 And wary heads, made rare by art's refining. 
 
 But why did nature, in her choice combining, 
 
 Plant two fair eyes within a beauteous face ? 
 
 That they might favour two with equal grace. 
 
 Venus did soothe up Vulcan with one eye, 
 
 With the other granted Mars his wished glee. 
 
 If she did so whom Hymen did defy, 
 
 Think love no sin, but grant an eye to me ! 
 
 In vain else nature gave two stars to thee. 
 
 If then two eyes may well two friends maintain, 
 
 Allow of two, and prove not nature vain. 
 
 Love, they say, invented the art of tracing 
 likenesses, and thereby led the way to por- 
 trait painting. Some painters it has cer- 
 tainly made ; whether it ever made a poet 
 may be doubted : but there can be no doubt 
 that under its inspiration more bad poetry 
 has been produced than by any, or all other 
 causes. 
 
 Haec via jam cunctis nota est, haec trita poetls 
 Materia, bane omnis tractat ubique liber. -f- 
 
 As the most forward bud 
 Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, 
 Even so by Love the young and tender wit 
 Is turn'd to folly. J 
 
 * CHIABRERA. f SCAURANUS. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 Vanity, presumption, ambition, adulation, 
 malice and folly, flatulent emptiness and ill- 
 digested fulness, misdirected talent and mis- 
 applied devotion, wantonness and want, 
 good motives, bad motives, and mixed mo- 
 tives have given birth to verses in such 
 numberless numbers, that the great lake of 
 Oblivion in which they have sunk, must 
 long ago have been filled up, if there had 
 been any bottom to it. But had it been so 
 filled up, and a foundation thus laid, the 
 quantity of love poems which have gone to 
 the same place, would have made a pile 
 there that would have been the eighth won- 
 der of the world. It would have dwarfed 
 the Pyramids. Pelion upon Ossa would 
 have seemed but a type of it ; and the 
 Tower of Babel would not, even when that 
 Tower was at its highest elevation, have 
 overtopped it, though the old rhyme says 
 that 
 
 Seven mile sank, and seven mile fell, 
 And seven mile still stand and ever shall. 
 Ce n'est que feu de leurs froids chaleurs, 
 Ce n'est qu' horreur de leurs feintes doulcurs, 
 Ce n'est encor de letirs souspirs el pleurs, 
 
 Que vents, pluye, et orages : 
 Et bref, ce n'est ii oufr leurs chansons, 
 De leurs amours, queflammes etglafons, 
 Fleches, liens, et mille autresfacons 
 De semblables outrages. 
 
 De vox beavtez, ce n'est que tout Jin or, 
 Perles, crystal, marbre, et ivoyre encor, 
 Et tout I'honneur de CIndique thresor, 
 
 Fleurs, Us, ceiUets, et roses : 
 De vox dovlceurs ce n'est que succre et mid, 
 De voz rigueures n'est qu' aloe's, etfiel, 
 De voz esprits c'est tous ce que le del 
 
 Tient de graces encloses. 
 
 * * 
 
 Iln'y a roc, qui n'entende leurs voii, 
 Leurs piteux cris ontfaict cent mille fois 
 Pleurer les monts, Us plaines, et les bois, 
 
 Les antres etfonteines. 
 Bref. il n'y a ny solitaires Keux, 
 fTy lieux fiantez, voyre mesmes les deux, 
 Qui fa et Id ne montrent a leurs yen* 
 
 L'image de leurs peines. 
 
 Cestuy-laporte en son cueur fluctueiu 
 De C Ocean les flats tumultueux, 
 Cesluy V horreur det vents impetueux 
 
 Sortans de leur caverne : 
 L'un (fun Caucase, et Mongibel se plaingt, 
 L'aulre en veillant plus de songes se pcingt, 
 Qu'il n'enfut onq'en cest orme, qu'onfeinct 
 
 En la fosse d'Avcrne. 
 
 Qui contrefaict ce Tantale mourant 
 Brusle de soif au milieu fun torrent, 
 Qui repaissant un aigle devorant, 
 S'accoustre en Fromethee :
 
 176 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Et qui encor, par un plus chaste eceu, 
 En se bruslant, veuit Hercule estre veu, 
 Mais gut se mue en etiu, air, terre, etftu, 
 Com me uu second Protee. 
 
 L'un meurt dtfroid, el Fautre meurt de chauld ; 
 
 L'un vole has, et fautre vole liav.lt, 
 
 L'un est chelif, I'autre a ce qui luy fault ; 
 
 L'un snr I'esprit sefonde, 
 L'autre s'arreste a la bfnute'du corps ; 
 On ne vid onq' si horribles discords 
 En ce cahos, qui troubloil les accords 
 
 Dontfut baity le monde.* 
 
 But, on the other hand, if lore, simple love, 
 is the worst of poets, that same simple love is 
 beyond comparison the best of letter writers. 
 In love poems conceits are distilled from the 
 head ; in love letters feelings flow from the 
 heart; and feelings are never so feelingly 
 uttered, affection never so affectionately 
 expressed, truth never so truly spoken, as 
 in such a correspondence. Oh, if the dis- 
 position which exists at such times were 
 sustained through life, marriage would then 
 be indeed the perfect union, the " excellent 
 mystery" which our Father requires from 
 those who enter into it, that it should be 
 made ; and which it might always be, 
 under his blessing, were it not for the mis- 
 conduct of one or the other party, or of 
 both. If such a disposition were maintained, 
 " if the love of husbands and wives were 
 grounded (as it then would be) in virtue 
 and religion, it would make their lives a 
 kind of heaven on earth ; it would prevent 
 all those contentions and brawlings which 
 are the great plagues of families, and the 
 lesser hell in passage to the greater." Let 
 no reader think the worse of that sentence 
 because it is taken from that good homely 
 old book, the better for being homely, en- 
 titled the Whole Duty of Man. 
 
 I once met with a book in which a ser- 
 vant 'girl had written on a blank leaf, "not 
 much love after marriage, but a good deal be- 
 fore ! " In her station of life this is but too 
 true ; and in high stations also, and in all 
 those intermediate grades where either the 
 follies of the world, or its cares, exercise 
 over us an unwholesome influence. But it 
 is not so with well constituted minds in 
 those favourable circumstances wherein the 
 
 * JOACHIM DU BELLAY. 
 
 heart is neither corrupted by wealth, nor 
 hardened by neediness. So far as the ten- 
 dency of modern usages is to diminish the 
 number of persons who are thus circum- 
 stanced, in that same proportion must the 
 sum of happiness be diminished, and of 
 those virtues which are the only safeguard 
 of a nation. And that modern policy and 
 modern manners have this tendency, must 
 be apparent to every one who observes the 
 course both of public and private life. 
 
 This girl had picked up a sad maxim 
 from the experience of others ; I hope it did 
 not as a consequence make her bestow too 
 much love before marriage herself, and meet 
 with too little after it. I have said much of 
 worthless verses upon this subject ; take 
 now, readers, some that may truly be called 
 worthy of it. They are by the Manchester 
 poet, Charles Swain. 
 
 1. 
 
 Love ? I will tell thee what it is to IOTP ! 
 It is to build with human thoughts a shrine, 
 Where Hope sits brooding like a beauteous dove ; 
 Where Time seems young, and Life a thing divine. 
 All tastes, all pleasures, all desires combine 
 To consecrate this sanctuary of bliss. 
 Above, the stars in shroudless beauty shine ; 
 Around, the streams their flowery margins kiss ; 
 And if there's heaven on earth, that heaven is surely this ! 
 
 2. 
 
 Yes, this is Love, the stedfast and the true, 
 The immortal glory which hath never set ; 
 The best, the brightest boon the heart e'er knew : 
 Of all life's sweets the very sweetest yet ! 
 Oh ! who but can recall the eve they met 
 To breathe, in some green walk, their first young vow, 
 While summer flowers with moonlight dews were wet, 
 And winds sigh'd soft around the mountain's brow, 
 And all was rapture then which is but memory now ! 
 
 The dream of life indeed can last with none 
 of us, 
 
 As if the thing beloved were all a Saint, 
 And every place she entered were a shrine : f 
 
 but it must be our own fault, when it has 
 passed away, if the realities disappoint us : 
 they are not "weary, stale, flat and unpro- 
 fitable," unless we ourselves render them so. 
 The preservation of the species is not the 
 sole end for which love was implanted in 
 the human heart ; that end the Almighty 
 might as easily have effected by other 
 means : not so the development of our 
 
 t GONDIBEKT.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 177 
 
 moral nature, which is its higher purpose. 
 The comic poet asserts that 
 
 Verum illutt verbum est viilgo quod did solet 
 Omnes sibi esse melius malle. quam alien':* 
 
 but this is not true in love. The lover never 
 says 
 
 Heus prozimus sum egomet mihi ; * 
 
 He knows and understands the falsehood of 
 the Greek adage, 
 
 <fiht7 $' iatVTOu sriiin oiSttt eiidstu.' 
 
 and not lovers alone, but husbands and 
 wives, and parents, feel that there are others 
 who are dearer to them than themselves. 
 Little do they know of human nature who 
 speak of marriage as doubling our pleasures 
 and dividing our griefs : it doubles, or more 
 than doubles both. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIX. 
 
 AN EARLY BEREAVEMENT. TRUE LOVE ITS 
 OWN COMFORTER. A LONELY FATHER AND 
 AN ONLY CHILD. 
 
 Rend ye that run the aweful truth, 
 With which I charge my page ; 
 
 A worm is in the bud of youth, 
 And at the root of age. COWPKR. 
 
 LEONARD was not more than eight-and- 
 twenty when he obtained a living, a few 
 miles from Doncaster. He took his bride 
 with him to the vicarage. The house was 
 as humble as the benefice, which was worth 
 less than ^50 a-year ; but it was soon made 
 the neatest cottage in the country round, 
 and upon a happier dwelling the sun never 
 shone. A few acres of good glebe were 
 attached to it ; and the garden was large 
 enough to afford healthful and pleasurable 
 employment to its owners. The course of 
 true love never ran more smoothly ; but its 
 course was short. 
 
 O how this spring of love resembleth 
 The uncertain glory of an April day, 
 
 Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, 
 And by and by a cloud takes all away ! f 
 
 Little more than five years from the time of 
 their marriage had elapsed, before a head- 
 
 ,* TERENCE. 
 
 f SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 stone in the adjacent churchyard told where 
 the remains of Margaret Bacon had been 
 deposited in the 30th year of her age. 
 
 When the stupor and the agony of that 
 bereavement had passed away, the very in- 
 tensity of Leonard's affection became a 
 source of consolation Margaret had been 
 to him a purely ideal object during the 
 years of his youth ; death had again ren- 
 dered her such. Imagination had beautified 
 and idolised her then ; f;iith sanctified and 
 glorified her now. She had been to him on 
 earth all that he had fancied, all that he had 
 hoped, all that he had desired. She would 
 again be so in heaven. And this second 
 union nothing could impede, nothing could 
 interrupt, nothing could dissolve. He had 
 only to keep himself worthy of it by cherish- 
 ing her memory, hallowing his heart to it 
 while he performed a parent's duty to their 
 child ; and so doing to await his own sum- 
 mons, which must one day come, which 
 every day was brought nearer, and which 
 any day might bring. 
 
 'Tis the only discipline we are born for; 
 
 All studies else are but as circular lines, 
 
 And death the centre where they must all meet, t 
 
 The same feeling which from his child- 
 hood had refined Leonard's heart, keeping 
 it pure and undefiled, had also corroborated 
 the natural strength of his character, and 
 made him firm of purpose. It was a saying 
 of Bishop Andrewes that "good husbandry 
 is good divinity : " " the truth whereof," 
 says Fuller, " no wise man will deny." Fru- 
 gality he had always practised as a needful 
 virtue, and found that in an especial manner 
 it brings with it its own reward. He now 
 resolved upon scrupulously setting apart a 
 fourth of his small income to make a pro- 
 vision for his child, in case of her surviving 
 him, as in the natural course of things might 
 be expected. If she should be removed 
 before him, for this was an event the pos- 
 sibility of which he always bore in mind, 
 he had resolved that whatever should have 
 been accumulated with this intent, should be 
 disposed of to some other pious purpose, 
 
 t MASSINCER.
 
 178 
 
 TIIK DOCTOR. 
 
 for such, within the limits to which his poor 
 means extended, he properly considered 
 this. And having entered on this prudential 
 course with a calm reliance upon Providence 
 in case his hour should coine before that 
 purpose could be accomplished, he was 
 without any earthly hope or fear, those 
 alone excepted, from which no parent can 
 be free. 
 
 The child had been christened Deborah 
 after her maternal grandmother, for whom 
 Leonard ever gratefully retained a most 
 affectionate and reverential remembrance. 
 She was a healthy, happy creature in body 
 and in mind ; at first 
 
 one of those little prating girls 
 
 Of whom fond parents tell such tedious stories ; 
 
 afterwards, as she grew up, a favourite with 
 the village school-mistress, and witli the 
 whole parish ; docile, good-natured, lively 
 and yet considerate, always gay as a lark 
 and busy as a bee. One of the pensive 
 pleasures in which Leonard indulged was 
 to gaze on her unperceived, and trace the 
 likeness to her mother. 
 
 Oh Christ ! 
 
 How that which was the life's life of our being, 
 Can pass away, and we recall it thus ! f 
 
 That resemblance which was strong in 
 childhood lessened as the child grew up ; 
 for Margaret's countenance had acquired a 
 cast of meek melancholy during those years 
 in which the bread of bitterness had been 
 her portion ; and when hope came to her, it 
 was that " hope deferred " which takes from 
 the cheek its bloom, even when the heart, 
 instead of being made sick, is sustained by 
 it. But no unhappy circumstances depressed 
 the constitutional buoyancy of her daughter's 
 spirits. Deborah brought into the world 
 the happiest of all nature's endowments, an 
 easy temper and a light heart. Resemblant 
 therefore as the features were, the dissimili- 
 tude of expression was more apparent ; and 
 when Leonard contrasted in thought the 
 sunshine of hilarity that lit up his daughter's 
 face, with the sort of moonlight loveliness 
 
 which had given a st-rene and saint-lita 
 character to her mother's, he wished to per- 
 suade himself that as the early translation of 
 the one seemed to have been thus prefi- 
 gured, the other might be destined to live 
 for the happiness of others till a good old 
 age, while length of years in their course 
 should ripen her for heaven. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXX. 
 
 OBSERVATIONS WHICH SHOW THAT WHAT- 
 EVER PRIDE MEN MAY TAKE IN THE 
 APPELLATIONS THEY ACQUIRE IN THEIR 
 PROGRESS THROUGH THE WORLD, THEIR 
 DEAREST NAME DIES BEFORE THEM. 
 
 Thus they who reach 
 
 Grey hairs, die piecemeal. 
 
 SOUTHEY. 
 
 * DRYDEN. 
 
 t ISAAC COMNENCS. 
 
 THE name of Leonard must now be dropped 
 as we proceed. Some of the South- Ame- 
 rican tribes, among whom the Jesuits la- 
 boured with such exemplary zeal, and who 
 take their personal appellations, (as most 
 names were originally derived,) from beasts, 
 birds, plants, and other visible objects, abo- 
 lish upon the death of every individual the 
 name by which he was called, and invent 
 another for the thing from which it was 
 taken, so that their language, owing to this 
 curiously inconvenient custom, is in a state 
 of continual change. An abolition almost 
 as complete with regard to the person had 
 taken place in the present instance. The 
 name, Leonard, was consecrated to him by 
 all his dearest and fondest recollections. 
 He had been known by it on his mother's 
 knees, and in the humble cottage of that 
 aunt who had been to him a second mother ; 
 and by the wife of his bosom, his first, last, 
 and only love. Margaret had never spoken 
 to him, never thought of him, by any other 
 name. From the hour of her death, no 
 human voice ever addressed him by it again. 
 He never heard himself so called, except in 
 dreams. It existed only in the dead letter ; 
 he signed it mechanically in the course of 
 business, but it had ceased to be a living 
 name.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 179 
 
 Men willingly prefix a handle to their 
 mimes, and tack on to them any two or 
 more honorary letters of the alphabet as a 
 tail ; they drop their surnames for a dignity, 
 and change them for an estate or a title. 
 They are pleased to be Doctor'd and Pro- 
 fessor'd ; to be Captain'd, Major'd, Colonel'd, 
 General' d, or Admiral'd; to be Sir John'd, 
 my-Lorded, or your-Graced. " You and I," 
 says Cranmer in his Answer to Gardiner's 
 book upon Transubstantiation " you and 
 I were delivered from our surnames when 
 we were consecrated Bishops ; sithence 
 which time we have so commonly been used 
 of all men to be called Bishops, you of Win- 
 chester, and I of Canterbury, that the most 
 part of the people know not that your name 
 is Gardiner, and mine Cranmer. And I 
 pray God, that we being called to the name 
 of Lords, have not forgotten our own baser 
 estates, that once we were simple squires ! " 
 But the emotion with which the most suc- 
 cessful suitor of Fortune hears himself first 
 addressed by a new and honourable title, 
 conferred upon him for his public deserts, 
 touches his heart less, (if that heart be sound 
 at the core,) than when, after long absence, 
 some one who is privileged so to use it, accosts 
 him by his Christian name, that household 
 name which he has never heard but from 
 his nearest relations, and his old familiar 
 friends. By this it is that we are known to 
 all around us in childhood ; it is used only 
 by our parents and our nearest kin when 
 that stage is passed ; and as they drop off, it 
 dies as to its oral uses with them. 
 
 It is because we are remembered more 
 naturally in our family and paternal circles 
 by our baptismal than our hereditary names, 
 and remember ourselves more naturally by 
 them, that the Roman Catholic, renouncing, 
 upon a principle of perverted piety, all 
 natural ties when he enters a convent and 
 voluntarily dies to the world, assumes a new 
 one. This is one manifestation of that in- 
 tense selfishness which the law of monastic 
 life inculcates, and affects to sanctify. Alas, 
 there need no motives of erroneous religion 
 to wean us from the ties of blood and of 
 affection ! They are weakened and dissolved 
 
 by fatal circumstances and the ways of the 
 world, too frequently and too soon. 
 
 " Our men of rank," said my friend one 
 day when he was speaking upon this subject, 
 " are not the only persons who go by dif- 
 ferent appellations in different parts of their 
 lives. We all moult our names in the 
 natural course of life. I was Dan in my 
 father's house, and should still be so with 
 my uncle William and Mr. Guy, if they 
 were still living. Upon my removal to 
 Doncaster, my master and mistress called 
 me Daniel, and my acquaintance Dove. In 
 Holland I was Mynheer Duif. Now I am 
 the Doctor, and not among my patients 
 only ; friends, acquaintance, and strangers, 
 address me by this appellation ; even my 
 wife calls me by no other name ; and I shall 
 never be any thing but the Doctor again, 
 till I am registered at my burial by the 
 same names as at my christening." 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXI. 
 
 A QUESTION WBETHER LOVE SHOULD BB 
 FAITHFUL TO THE DEAD. DOUBTS AD- 
 VANCED AND CASES STATED. 
 
 even in spite of death, yet still my choice, 
 Oft with the inward all -beholding eye 
 
 1 think I see thee, and 1 hear thy voice ! 
 
 LORD STERLINE. 
 
 IN the once popular romance of Astrea the 
 question si Amour pent mourir par la mort 
 de la chose aimee ? is debated in reference 
 to the faithful shepherd, Tyrcis, who, having 
 lost his mistress Cleon, (Cleon serving for a 
 name feminine in French, as Stella has done 
 in English,) and continuing constant to her 
 memory, is persecuted by the pertinacious 
 advances of Laonice. The sage shepherd, 
 Sylvandre, before whom the point is argued, 
 and to whom it is referred for judgment, 
 delivers, to the great disappointment of the 
 lady, the following sentence : Qiune Amour 
 perissable ii'est pas tray A mour ; car il doit 
 suivre le svjet qui luy a donne naissanes, 
 C^est pourquoy ceux qui ont aime le corps 
 seulemejit, doivent enclorre tovtes les amours
 
 180 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 du corps dans le mesme tombeau ou il senserre : 
 mais ceux qui outre cela out aime fesprit, 
 doivent avec leur Amour voler apres cet esprit 
 aime jusques au plus haul ciel, sans que les 
 distances les puissent separer. 
 
 The character of a constant mourner is 
 sometimes introduced in romances of the 
 earlier and nobler class ; but it is rare in 
 those works of fiction, and indeed it is not 
 common in what has happily been called 
 the romance of real life. Let me, however, 
 restrict this assertion within its proper 
 bounds. What is meant to be here asserted 
 (and it is pertinent to this part of our story) 
 is, that it is not common for any one who 
 has been left a widow or widower, early in 
 life, to remain so always out of pure affection 
 to the memory of the dead, unmingled with 
 any other consideration or cause. Such 
 constancy can be found only where there is 
 the union of a strong imagination and a 
 strong heart, which, perhaps, is a rare 
 union ; and if to these a strong mind be 
 united, the effect would probably be different. 
 
 It is only in a strong imagination that the 
 deceased object of affection can retain so 
 firm a hold as never to be dispossessed from 
 it by a living one ; and when the imagina- 
 tion is thus possessed, unless the heart be 
 strong, the heart itself, or the intellect, is 
 likely to give way. A deep sense of religion 
 would avert the latter alternative; but I 
 will not say that it is any preservative 
 against the former. 
 
 A most affecting instance of this kind is 
 related by Dr. Uwins in his Treatise on Dis- 
 orders of the Brain. A lady on the point 
 ofmarriage, whose intended husband usually 
 travelled by the stage-coach to visit her, 
 went one day to meet him, and found instead 
 of him an old friend, who came to announce 
 to her the tidings of his sudden death. 
 She uttered a scream, and piteously ex- 
 claimed " he is dead ! " But then all con- 
 sciousness of the affliction that had befallen 
 her ceased. "From that fatal moment," 
 says the Author, " has this unfortunate fe- 
 male daily for fifty years, in all seasons, 
 traversed the distance of a few miles to the 
 spot where she expected her future husband 
 
 to alight from the coach ; and every day she 
 utters in a plaintive tone, ' he is not come 
 yet ! I will return to-morrow ! ' " 
 
 There is a more remarkable case in which 
 love, after it had long been apparently 
 extinct, produced a like effect upon being 
 accidentally revived. It is recorded in a 
 Glasgow newspaper. An old man residing 
 in the neighbourhood of that city found a 
 miniature of his wife, taken in her youth. 
 She had been dead many years, and he was 
 a person of strictly sedate and religious 
 habits ; but the sight of this picture over- 
 came him. From the time of its discovery 
 till his death, which took place some months 
 afterwards, he neglected all his ordinary 
 duties and employments, and became in a 
 manner imbecile, spending whole days with- 
 out uttering a word, or manifesting the 
 slightest interest in passing occurrences. 
 The only one with whom he would hold any 
 communication was a little grandchild, who 
 strikingly resembled the portrait ; to her he 
 was perfectly docile ; and a day or two before 
 his death he gave her his purse, and strictly 
 enjoined her to lay the picture beside him 
 in his coffin, a request which was accord- 
 ingly fulfilled. 
 
 Mr. Newton, o/ Olney, says, that once in 
 the West Indies, upon not receiving letters 
 from his wife in England, he concluded that 
 surely she was dead, and this apprehension 
 affected him so much, that he was nearly 
 sinking under it. " I felt, " says he, " some 
 severe symptoms of that mixture of pride 
 and madness which is commonly called a 
 broken heart; and indeed, I wonder that this 
 case is not more common than it appears to 
 be. How often do the potsherds of the 
 earth presume to contend with their Maker ! 
 and what a wonder of mercy is it that they 
 are not all broken ! " 
 
 This is a stern opinion ; and he who de- 
 livered it held stern tenets, though in his 
 own disposition compassionate and tender. 
 He was one who could project his feelings, 
 and relieve himself in the effort. No hus- 
 band ever loved his wife more passionately, 
 nor with a more imaginative affection ; the 
 long and wasting disease by which she was
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 181 
 
 consumed, affected him proportionably to 
 this deep attachment ; but immediately upon 
 her death he roused himself, after the ex- 
 ample of David, threw off his grief, and 
 preached her funeral sermon. He ought to 
 have known that this kind of strength and 
 in this degree is given to very few of us, 
 that a heart may break, even though it be 
 thoroughly resigned to the will of God, and 
 acquiesces in it, and has a lively faith in God's 
 mercies; yea, that this very resignation, 
 this entii-e acquiescence, this sure and certain 
 hope, may even accelerate its breaking; and 
 a soul thus chastened, thus purified, thus 
 ripened for immortality, may unconsciously 
 work out the deliverance which it ardently, 
 but piously withal, desires. 
 
 What were the Doctor's thoughts upon 
 this subject, and others connected with it, 
 will appear in the proper place. It is 
 touched upon here in relation to Leonard. 
 His love for Margaret might be said to have 
 begun w ith her life, and it lasted as long as 
 his own. No thought of a second marriage 
 even entered his mind ; though in the case 
 of another person, his calm views of human 
 nature and of the course of life would have 
 led him to advise it. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXII. 
 
 THE DOCTOR IS INTRODUCED, BY THE SMAT.T.- 
 POX, TO HIS FUTURE WIFE. 
 
 Long-waiting love doth entrance find 
 Into the slow-believing mind. 
 
 SYDNEY GODOLPHIN. 
 
 WHEN Deborah was about nineteen, the 
 small-pox broke out in Doncaster, and soon 
 spread over the surrounding country, occa- 
 sioning everywhere a great mortality. At 
 that time inoculation had very rarely been 
 practised in the provinces ; and the preju- 
 dice against it was so strong, that Mr. Bacon, 
 though convinced in his own mind that the 
 practice was not only lawful, but advisable, 
 refrained from having his daughter inocu- 
 lated till the disease appeared in his own 
 parish. He had been induced to defer it 
 
 during her childhood, partly because he was 
 unwilling to offend the prejudices of his 
 parishioners, which he hoped to overcome by 
 persuasion and reasoning when time and 
 opportunity might favour; still more because 
 he thought it unjustifiable to introduce such 
 a disease into his own house, with immi- 
 nent risk of communicating it to others, 
 which were otherwise in no danger, in which 
 the same preparations would not be made, 
 and where, consequently, the danger would 
 be greater. But when the malady had shown 
 itself in the parish, then he felt that his 
 duty as a parent required him to take the 
 best apparent means for the preservation of 
 his child ; and that as a pastor also it became 
 him now in his own family to set an example 
 to his parishioners. 
 
 Deborah, who had the most perfect re- 
 liance upon her father's judgment, and 
 lived in entire accordance with his will in 
 all things, readily consented; and seemed 
 to regard the beneficial consequences of "the 
 experiment to others with hope, rather than 
 to look with apprehension to it for herself. 
 Mr. Bacon therefore went to Doncaster and 
 called upon Dr. Dove. " I do not," said he, 
 " ask whether you would advise me to have 
 my daughter inoculated ; where so great a 
 risk is to be incurred, in the case of an only 
 child, you might hesitate to advise it. But 
 if you see nothing in her present state of 
 health, or in her constitutional tendencies, 
 which would render it more than ordinarily 
 dangerous, it is her own wish and mine, 
 after due consideration on my part, that she 
 should be committed to your care, putting 
 our trust in Providence." 
 
 Hitherto there had been no acquaintance 
 between Mr. Bacon and the Doctor, farther 
 than that they knew each other by sight and 
 by good report. This circumstance led to 
 a growing intimacy. During the course of 
 his attendance the Doctor fell in friendship 
 with the father, and the father with him. 
 
 " Did he fall in love with his patient?" 
 
 " No, ladies." 
 
 You have already heard that he once fell 
 in love, and how it happened. And you 
 have also been informed that he caught love
 
 182 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 once, though I have not told you how, be- 
 cause it would have led me into top melan- 
 choly a tale. In this case he neither fell in 
 love, nor caught it, nor ran into it, nor 
 walked into it ; nor was he overtaken in it, 
 as a boon companion is in liquor, or a run- 
 away in his flight. Yet there was love 
 between the parties at last, and it was love 
 for love, to the heart's content of both. 
 How this came to pass will be related at 
 the proper time and in the proper place. 
 
 For here let me set before the judicious 
 Reader certain pertinent remarks by the 
 pious and well-known author of a popular 
 treatise upon the Right Use of Reason, a 
 treatise which has been much read to little 
 purpose. That author observes, that " those 
 writers and speakers, whose chief business 
 is to amuse or delight, to allure, terrify, or 
 persuade mankind, do not confine them- 
 selves to any natural order, but in a cryp- 
 tical or hidden method, adapt every thing 
 to their designed ends. Sometimes they omit 
 those things which might injure their design, 
 or grow tedious to their hearers, though they 
 seem to have a necessary relation to the 
 point in hand ; sometimes they add those 
 things which have no great reference to the 
 subject, but are suited to allure or refresh 
 the mind and the ear. They dilate some- 
 times, and flourish long upon little inci- 
 dents, and they skip over, and but lightly 
 touch the drier part of the theme. They 
 omit things essential which are not beautiful ; 
 they insert little needless circumstances and 
 beautiful digressions : they invert times and 
 actions, in order to place every thing in the 
 most affecting light ; they place the first 
 things last, and the last things first with 
 wondrous art; and yet so manage it as to 
 conceal their artifice, and lead the senses 
 and passions of their hearers into a pleasing 
 and powerful captivity." 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXIH. 
 
 THE AUTHOR REQUESTS THE READER HOT 
 TO BE IMPATIENT. SHOWS FROM LORD 
 SHAFTESBURY AT WHAT RATE A JUDICIOUS 
 WRITER OUGHT TO PROCEED. DISCLAIMS 
 PROLIXITY FOR HIMSELF, AND GIVES 
 EXAMPLES OF IT IN A GERMAN PROFESSOR, 
 A JEWISH RABBI, AND TWO COUNSELLORS, 
 ENGLISH AND AMERICAN. 
 
 Pand. He that will have a cake out of the wheat, must 
 tarry the grinding. 
 
 Troilus. Have I not tarried ? 
 
 Pand. Ay, the grinding ; but you must tarry the bolting. 
 
 Troilus. Have I not tarried? 
 
 Pand. Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the 
 leavening. 
 
 Troilus. Still have I tarried. 
 
 Pand. Ay, to the leavening: but here's yet In the 
 word hereafter, the kneading, the making of the cake, the 
 heating of the oven, and the baking ; nay, you must stay 
 the cooling too ; or you may chance to burn your lips. 
 TROILUS AND CKESSIDA. 
 
 I passed over fourteen years of the Doctor's 
 boyhood and adolescence, as it may be re- 
 membered was stated in the twenty -fifth 
 Chapter ; but I must not in like manner pass 
 over the years that intervened between his 
 first acquaintance with Deborah Bacon, and 
 the happy day whereon the bells of St. 
 George's welcomed her to Doncaster as his 
 bride. It would be as inconsistent with my 
 design to pretermit this latter portion of his 
 life, as it would have been incompatible 
 with my limits to have recorded the details 
 of the former, worthy to be recorded as they 
 were. If any of my readers should be im- 
 patient on this occasion, and think that I 
 ought to have proceeded to the marriage 
 without delay, or at least to the courtship, I 
 must admonish them in the words of a 
 Turkish saying, that " hurry comes from the 
 Devil, and slow advancing from Allah." 
 "Needs must go when the Devil drives," 
 says the proverb : but the Devil shall never 
 drive me. I will take care never to go at 
 such a rate, " as if haste had maimed speed 
 by overrunning it at starting." 
 
 " The just composer of a legitimate piece," 
 says Lord Shaftesbury, " is like an able tra- 
 veller, who exactly measures his journey, 
 considers his ground, premeditates his stages
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 183 
 
 and intervals of relaxation and intention, to 
 the very conclusion of his undertaking, that 
 he happily arrives where he first proposed 
 at setting out. He is not presently upon the 
 spur, or in his full career, but walks his steed 
 leisurely out of the stable, settles himself in 
 his stirrups, and when fair road and season 
 offer, puts on perhaps to a round trot, thence 
 into a gallop, and after a while takes up. As 
 down, or meadow, or shady lane present 
 themselves, he accordingly suits his pace, 
 favours his palfrey, and is sure not to bring 
 him puffing, and in a heat, into his last inn." 
 Yes, Reader, 
 
 matter needless, of importless burden* 
 
 may as little be expected to flow from the 
 slit of my pen, as to " divide the lips " of 
 wise Ulysses. On the other hand what is 
 needful, what is weighty in its import, let 
 who will be impatient, must not be left un- 
 said. 
 
 Farfe JUa a varie tele 
 Uopj mi son, che tutte ordure intcndo.\ 
 
 It is affirmed by the angelic Doctor, St. 
 Thomas Aquinas, that of corporeal things the 
 quantity is in proportion to the quality, that 
 which is best being always in the same degree 
 the greatest. "Thus in this our universe," 
 he says, " the water is more than the earth, 
 the air more than the water, the fire more 
 than the air ; the first heaven larger than 
 the sphere of fire, the second than the first, 
 the third than the second ; and so they pro- 
 ceed increasing to the tenth sphere, and to 
 the empyrean, which is, inestimabilis et in- 
 comparalilis magnitudirus" 
 
 Upon the principle which this greatest of 
 the schoolmen has assumed, I leave the 
 reader to infer what would be the probable 
 and proper extent of the present opus, were 
 I to indulge my genius and render justice to 
 the subject. 
 
 To make it exceed in length the histories 
 of Sir Charles Grandison and of Clarissa 
 Harlowe, or the bulkier romances of Cal- 
 prenede and the Scuderys, it would not be 
 necessary to handle it in the manner of a 
 
 * TROIL.S AND CKE.SSIDA. 
 
 t AHIOSTO. 
 
 lawyer who, having no more argument than 
 would lie in a nut-shell, wire-draws it and 
 hammers at it, and hammers at it and wire- 
 draws it, and then wire draws it and ham- 
 mers at it again, like a lecturer who is ex- 
 hibiting the infinite ductility of gold. 
 
 " What a gift," says Fuller, " had John 
 Halsebach, Professor at Vienna, in tedious- 
 ness, who being to expound the Prophet 
 Isaiah to his auditors, read twenty-one years 
 on the first chapter, and yet finished it not ! " 
 Mercator, in the description of Austria in 
 his Atlas, has made mention of this Arch- 
 Emperor of the Spintexts. 
 
 If I had been in John Halsebach's place, 
 my exposition of that first chapter would 
 have been comprised in one lecture, of no 
 hungry or sleepy duration. But if John 
 Halsebach were in mine, he would have filled 
 more volumes than Rees's Cyclopaedia with 
 his account of Daniel Dove. 
 
 And yet Rabbi Chanauiah may contest 
 the palin with the Vienna Professor. It is 
 recorded of him that when he undertook to 
 write a commentary upon part of the Prophet 
 Ezekiel, he required the Jews to supply 
 him with three hundred tons of oil for the 
 use of his lamp, while he should be engaged 
 in it.J 
 
 It is well known upon one of the English 
 circuits that a leading barrister once under- 
 took to speak while an express went twenty 
 miles to bring back a witness whom it was 
 necessary to produce upon the trial. But 
 what is this to the performance of an Ame- 
 rican counsellor, who upon a like emergency 
 held the judge and the jury by their ears for 
 three mortal days ! He indeed was put to 
 his wits' end for words wherewith to fill up 
 the time ; and he introduced so many 
 truisms, and argued at the utmost length so 
 many indisputable points, and expatiated so 
 profusely upon so many trite ones, that 
 Judge Marshal (the biographer of Wash- 
 
 t " The Jews did not suffer this book, or at least the 
 beginning of it, to be read by any who had not attained 
 their thirtieth year ; and restrictions were imposed upon 
 Commentators who might be disposed to write upon it." 
 BISHOP OKAY'S Key to the Old Testament.
 
 184 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 iugton and the most patient of listeners,) 
 was so far moved at last as to say, " Mr. 
 Such a one ! (addressing him by his name 
 in a deliberate tone of the mildest repre- 
 hension,) there are some things with 
 which the Court should be supposed to be 
 acquainted." 
 
 I can say with Burton, malo decent potius 
 verba, decies repetita licet, abundare, quarn 
 unum desiderari. " To say more than a man 
 can say, I hold it not fit to be spoken : but 
 to say what a man ought to say, there," 
 
 with Simon the tanner of Queenborough, 
 
 "I leave you." 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXIV. 
 
 A LOOP DROPPED IN THE FOREGOING CHAP- 
 TER IS HERE TAKEN UP. 
 
 Enobarbus. Every time 
 
 Serves for the matter that is then born in it. 
 Lepidus. But small to greater matters must give way. 
 Enobarbus. Not if the small come first 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 IN the last chapter an illustration of tedious- 
 ness was omitted, because it so happily ex- 
 hibits the manner in which a stop may be 
 put to a tedious discourse without incivility, 
 that it deserves a chapter to itself. 
 
 When Madame de Stael resided at Copet, 
 it was her custom to collect around her in 
 the evening a circle of literati, the blue legs 
 of Geneva, by some one of whom an essay, a 
 disquisition, or a portion of a work in pro- 
 gress was frequently read aloud to entertain 
 the rest. Professor Dragg's History of 
 Religion had occupied on one of those even- 
 ings more time than was thought necessary, 
 or convenient by the company, and espe- 
 cially by the lady of the chateau. It began 
 at the beginning of the world, and did not 
 pass to the Deluge with the rapidity which 
 Dandin required from the pleader in Racine's 
 comedy, who in like manner opened his case 
 before the Creation. Age after age rolled 
 away over the Professor's tongue, the course 
 of which seemed to be interminable as that 
 of the hand of the dial, while the clock 
 struck the hour, and the quarter, and 
 
 the half hour, and the third quarter, and 
 then the whole hour again, and then again 
 the quarters. " A tedious person," says 
 Ben Jonson, " is one a man would leap a 
 steeple from." Madame de Stael could tole- 
 rate nothing that was dry, except her father; 
 but she could neither leap out of her own 
 window, nor walk out of her own room, to 
 escape from Professor Dragg. She looked 
 wistfully round, and saw upon many a 
 countenance an occasional and frequent 
 movement about the lips, indicating that a 
 yawn was at that moment painfully stifled 
 in its birth. Dumont committed no such 
 violence upon nature ; he had resigned him- 
 self to sleep. The Professor went steadily 
 on. Dumont slept audibly. The Professor 
 was deaf to every sound but that of his own 
 voice. Madame de Stael was in despair. 
 The Professor coming to the end of an elo- 
 quent chapter declaimed with great force 
 and vehemence the emphatic close, and pre- 
 pared to begin the next. Just in that in- 
 terstice of time, Dumont stirred and snorted. 
 Madame de Stael seized the opportunity ; 
 she clapped her hands and ejaculated Mon 
 Dieu ! Voyez Dumont ! II a dormi pendant 
 deux siecles ! Dumont opened his eyes, and 
 Professor Dragg closed his manuscript. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXV. 
 THE DOCTOR'S CONTEMPORARIES AT LEYDEN. 
 
 EARLY FRIENDSHIP. COWPEfi's MELAN- 
 CHOLY OBSERVATION THAT GOOD DISPOSI- 
 TIONS ARE MORE LIKELY TO BE CORRUPTED 
 THAN EVIL ONES TO BE CORRECTED. 
 YOUTHFUL CONNECTIONS LOOSENED IN THE 
 COMMON COURSE OF THINGS. A FINE 
 FRAGMENT BY WALTER LANDOR. 
 
 Lass mich den Stitnde gedcnken, und jedes kleineren 
 
 umstands. 
 
 Ach, wer raft nicht so gern unwiedfrbringliches an I 
 Jcncs slisse Gedr'dnge der leichtesten irdischcn Tage, 
 
 Ach, wer schlitzt ihn gcnug, diesen vereileniien Werth ! 
 Klein erscheinet es nun, dock ach ! nicht kleinlich dem 
 
 Herzen ; 
 
 Mac/it die Liebe, die Kunst, jegliches Kleine dorh grott. 
 
 GOETHE. 
 
 THE circumstances of my friend's boyhood 
 and early youth, though singularly favour-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 185 
 
 able to his peculiar cast of mind, in many or 
 indeed most respects, were in this point dis- 
 advantageous, that they afforded him little 
 or no opportunity of forming those early 
 friendships which, when they are well 
 formed, contribute so largely to our future 
 happiness. Perhaps the greatest advantage 
 of public education, as compared with pri- 
 vate, is, that it presents more such oppor- 
 tunities than are ever met with in any 
 subsequent stage of human life. And yet 
 even then in friendship, as afterwards in 
 love, we are for the most part less directed 
 by choice than by what is called chance. 
 
 Daniel Dove never associated with so 
 many persons of his own age at any other 
 time as during his studies at Leyden. But 
 he was a foreigner there, and this is almost 
 as great an obstacle to friendship as to 
 matrimony ; and" there were few English 
 students among whom to choose. Dr. 
 Brocklesby took his degree, and left the 
 University the year before he entered it; 
 Brocklesby was a person in whose society he 
 might have delighted; but he was a cruel 
 experimentalist, and the dispathy which this 
 must have excited in our friend, whose love 
 of science, ardent as it was, never overcame 
 the sense of humanity, would have counter- 
 acted the attraction of any intellectual 
 powers, however brilliant. Akenside, with 
 whom in many respects he would have felt 
 himself in unison, and by whose society he 
 might have profited, graduated also there 
 just before his time. 
 
 He had a contemporary more remarkable 
 than either in his countryman John Wilkes, 
 who was pursuing his studies there, not 
 without some diligence, under the superin- 
 tendence of a private tutor ; and who ob- 
 tained much notice for those lively and 
 agreeable talents which were afterwards so 
 flagrantly abused. But the strict and con- 
 scientious frugality which Dove observed, 
 rendered it unfit for him to associate with 
 one who had a liberal allowance, and ex- 
 pended it lavishly : and there was also a 
 stronger impediment to any intimacy be- 
 tween them ; for no talents however com- 
 panionable, no qualities however engaging, 
 
 could have induced him to associate with a 
 man whose irreligion was of the worst kind, 
 and who delighted in licentious conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 There was one of his countrymen indeed 
 there (so far as a Scotchman may be called 
 so) with whom he formed an acquaintance 
 that might have ripened into intimacy, if 
 their lots had fallen near to each other in 
 after life. This was Thomas Dickson, a 
 native of Dumfries ; they attended the same 
 lectures, and consorted on terms of friendly 
 familiarity. But when their University 
 course is completed, men separate, like 
 stage-coach travellers, at the end of a jour- 
 ney, or fellow passengers in a ship when 
 they reach their port. While Dove " pur- 
 sued the noiseless tenor of his way " at 
 Doncaster, Dickson tried his fortune in the 
 metropolis, where he became Physician to 
 the London Hospital, and a Fellow of the 
 Royal Society. He died in the year 1784, 
 and is said in his epitaph to have been " a 
 man of singular probity, loyalty, and huma- 
 nity; kind to his relations, beloved by all 
 who knew him, learned and skilful in his 
 profession. Unfeed by the poor, he lived to 
 do good, and died a Christian believer." 
 For awhile some intercourse between him 
 and the Doctor had been kept up by letters ; 
 but the intervals in their correspondence 
 became longer and longer as each grew 
 more engaged in business ; and new con- 
 nexions gradually effaced an impression 
 which had not been made early, nor had 
 ever been very deep. 'The friendship that, 
 with no intercourse to nourish it, keeps itself 
 alive for years, must have strong roots in a 
 good soil. 
 
 Cowper regarded these early connexions 
 in an unfavourable and melancholy mood. 
 " For my own part," says he, " I found such 
 friendships, though warm enough in their 
 commencement, surprisingly liable to ex- 
 tinction ; and of seven or eight whom I had 
 selected for intimates out of about three 
 hundred, in ten years' time not one was left 
 me. The truth is that there may be, and 
 often is, an attachment of one boy to an- 
 other, that looks very like a friendship ; and
 
 186 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 while they arc in circumstances that enable 
 them mutually to oblige and to assist each 
 other, promises well and bids fair to be last- 
 ing. But they are no sooner separated from 
 each other, by entering into the world at j 
 large, than other connexions and new em- i 
 
 O ' 
 
 ployments in which they no longer share i 
 together, efface the remembrance of what 
 passed in earlier days, and they become 
 strangers to each other for ever. Add to 
 this, the man frequently differs so much from 
 the boy, his principles, manners, temper, 
 and conduct, undergo so great an alteration, 
 that we no longer recognise in him our 
 old play-fellow, but find him utterly un- 
 worthy and unfit for the place he once held 
 in our affections." These sentiments he has 
 also expressed in verse : 
 
 - School-friendships are not always found, 
 Though fair in promise, permanent and sound ; 
 The most disinterested and virtuous minds, 
 In early years connected, time unbinds; 
 New situations give a different cast 
 Of habit, inclination, temper, taste ; 
 And he that seem'd our counterpart at first, 
 Soon shows the strong similitude reversed. 
 Young heads are giddy, and young hearts are warm, 
 And make mistakes for manhood to reform. 
 Boys are, at best, but pretty buds unblown, 
 Whose scent and hues are rather guessed than known; 
 Each dreams that each is just what he appears, 
 But learns his error in maturer years, 
 When disposition, like a sail unfurled, 
 Shows all its rents and patches to the world. 
 
 Disposition, however, is the one thing which 
 undergoes no other change than that of 
 growth in after life. The physical constitu- 
 tion, when any morbid principle is innate in 
 it, rarely alters ; the moral constitution 
 (except by a miracle of God's mercy) 
 
 rifos, e-j^it xXXo trK-^v xaxot.* 
 
 " Believe, if you will," say the Persians, 
 " that a mountain has removed from one 
 place to another ; but if you are told that a 
 man has changed his nature, believe it 
 not ! " 
 
 The best of us have but too much cause 
 for making it part of our daily prayer that 
 we fall into no sin ! But there is an ori- 
 ginal pravity which deserves to be so called 
 
 EURIPIDES. 
 
 in the darkest import of the term, an 
 inborn and incurable disease of the moral 
 being, manifested as soon as it has strength 
 to show itself; and wherever this is per- 
 ceived in earliest youth, it may too surely 
 be predicted what is to be expected when 
 all control of discipline is removed. Of 
 those that bring with them such a disposition 
 into the world, it cannot be said that they 
 fall into sin, because it is too manifest that 
 they seek and pursue it as the bent of their 
 nature. No wonder that wild theories have 
 been devised to account for what is so mys- 
 terious, so awful, and yet so incontestable ! 
 Zephaniah Holwell, who will always be re- 
 membered for his sufferings in the Black 
 Hole, wrote a strange book in which he en- 
 deavoured to prove that men were fallen 
 angels, that is, that human bodies are the 
 forms in which fallen angels are condemned 
 to suffer for the sins which they have com- 
 mitted in their former state. Akin to this 
 is the Jewish fancy, held by Josephus, as 
 well as his less liberalised countrymen, that 
 the souls of wicked men deceased got into 
 the bodies of the living and possessed them ; 
 and by this agency they accounted for all 
 diseases. IlolweU's theory is no doubt, as 
 old as any part of the Oriental systems of 
 philosophy and figments ; it is one of the 
 many vain attempts to account for that 
 fallen nature of which every man who is 
 sincere enough to look into his own heart, 
 finds there what may too truly be called an 
 indwelling witness. Something like the 
 Jewish notion was held by John Wesley and 
 Adam Clarke ; and there are certain cases 
 in which it is difficult not to admit it, espe- 
 cially when the question of the demoniacs 
 is considered. Nor is there any thing that 
 shocks us in supposing this to be possible 
 for the body, and the mind also, as depend- 
 ing upon the bodily organs. But that the 
 moral being, the soul itself, the life of life, 
 the immortal part, should appear, as so often 
 it undoubtedly does, to be thus possessed, 
 this indeed is of all mysterious things the 
 darkest. 
 
 For a disposition thus evil in its nature 
 it almost seems as if there could be no hope.
 
 THE DOCTOR, 
 
 187 
 
 On the other hand, there is no security in a 
 sood one, if the support of good principles 
 (that is to say, of religion of Christian 
 faith ) be wanting. It may be soured by 
 misfortunes, it may be corrupted by wealth, 
 it may be blighted by neediness, it may lose 
 " all its original brightness." 
 
 School friendships arise out of sympathy 
 of disposition .at an age when the natural 
 disposition is under little control and less 
 disguise ; and there are reasons enough, of a 
 less melancholy kind than Cowper contem- 
 plated, why so few of these blossoms set, 
 and of those which afford a promise of fruit, 
 why so small a proportion should bring it to 
 maturity. " The amity that wisdom knits 
 not folly may easily untie * ; " and even 
 when not thus dissolved, the mutual attach- 
 ment which in boyhood is continually 
 strengthened by similarity of circumstance 
 and pursuits, dies a natural death in most 
 cases when that similarity ceases. If one 
 goes north in the intellectual bearings of his 
 course in life, and the other south, they will 
 at last be far as the poles asunder. If 
 their pursuits are altogether different, and 
 their opinions repugnant, in the first case 
 they cease to think of each other with any 
 warm interest ; in the second, if they think 
 of each other at all, it is with an uncomfort- 
 able feeling, and a painful sense of change. 
 
 The way in which too many ordinary 
 minds are worsened by the mere course of 
 time is finely delineated by Landor, in some 
 verses which he designed as an imitation, 
 not of a particular passage in a favourite 
 Greek author, but of his manner and style 
 of thought. 
 
 Friendship, in each successive stage of life, 
 As we approach him, varies to the view ; 
 In youth he wears the face of Love himself, 
 Of Love without his arrows and his wings. 
 Soon afterwards with Bacchus and with Pan 
 Thou finciest him ; or hearest him resign, 
 To some dog-pastor, by the quiet fire, 
 Witli much good-will and jocular adieu, 
 His age-worn mule, or broken-hearted steed. 
 Fly not, as thou wert wont, to his embrace ; 
 Lest, after one long yawning gaze, he swear 
 Thou art the best good fellow in the world, 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 But he had quite forgotten thee, by Jove ! 
 
 Or laughter wag his newly bearded chin 
 
 At recollection of his childish hours. 
 
 But wouldst thou see, young man, his latest form, 
 
 When e'en tliis laughter, e'en this memory fails, 
 
 Look at yon fig-tree statue ! golden once, 
 
 As all would deem it, rottenness falls out 
 
 At every little hole the worms have made ; 
 
 And if thou triest to lift it up again 
 
 It breaks upon thee 1 Leave it ! touch it not I 
 
 Its very lightness would encumber thee. 
 
 Come thou hast seen it : 'tis enough ; be gone 1 
 
 The admirable writer who composed these 
 verses in some melancholy mood, is said to 
 be himself one of the most constant and af- 
 fectionate of friends. It may indeed safely 
 be affirmed, that generous minds, when they 
 have once known each other, never can be 
 alienated as long as both retain the cha- 
 racteristics which brought them into union. 
 No distance of place, or lapse of time, can 
 lessen the friendship of those who are 
 thoroughly persuaded of each other's worth. 
 There are even some broken attachments in 
 friendship as well as in love which nothing 
 can destroy, and it sometimes happens that 
 we are not conscious of their strength till 
 after the disruption. 
 
 There are a few persons known to me in 
 years long past, but with whom I lived in no 
 particular intimacy then, and have held no 
 correspondence since, whom I could not now 
 meet without an emotion of pleasure deep 
 enough to partake of pain, and who, I doubt 
 not, entertain for me feelings of the same 
 kind and degree ; whose eyes sparkle when 
 they hear, and glisten sometimes when they 
 speak of me ; and who think of me as I do of 
 them, with an affection that increases as we 
 advance in years. This is because our moral 
 and intellectual sympathies have strengthen- 
 ed ; and because, though far asunder, we 
 know that we are travelling the same road 
 toward our resting place in heaven. " There 
 is such a pleasure as this," says Cowper, 
 "which would want explanation to some 
 folks, being perhaps a mystery to those whose 
 hearts are a mere muscle, and serve only for 
 the purposes of an even circulation."
 
 188 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXVI. 
 
 PETER HOPKINS. REASONS FOR SUPPOSING 
 THAT HE WAS AS GOOD A PRACTITIONER 
 AS ANT IN ENGLAND ; THOUGH NOT THE 
 BEST. TOE FITTEST MASTER FOR DANIEL 
 DOVE. HIS SKILL IN ASTROLOGY. 
 
 due sea Medico mas grave 
 Quien mas aforismos sabt, 
 
 Bien puede ser. 
 Mas que no sea mas experto 
 El que mas huviere rmterlo, 
 
 No puede ter. GONG OR A. 
 
 OF all the persons with whom Daniel Dove 
 associated at Doncaster, the one who pro- 
 duced the most effect upon his mind was his 
 master and benefactor, Peter Hopkins. The 
 influence indeed which he exercised, in- 
 sensibly as it were, upon his character, was 
 little less than that whereby he directed and 
 fixed the course of his fortune in life. A 
 better professional teacher in his station 
 could nowhere have been found ; for there 
 was not a more skilful practitioner in 
 the Three Ridings, consequently not in 
 England ; consequently not in Christen- 
 dom, and by a farther consequence not in 
 the world. Fuller says of Yorkshire that 
 " one may call, and justify it to be the best 
 shire in England ; and that not by the help 
 of the general katachresis of good for great, 
 (as a good blow, a good piece, &c.,) but in 
 the proper acceptation thereof. If in Tully's 
 Orations, all being excellent, that is adjudged 
 optima qua longissima, the best which is the 
 longest ; then by the same proportion, this 
 Shire, par taking in goodness alike with others, 
 must be allowed the best." Yorkshire there- 
 fore being the best county in England, as 
 being the largest, of necessity it must have 
 as good practitioners in medicine as are to 
 be found in any other county ; and there 
 aeing no better practitioner than Peter 
 Hopkins there, it would have been in vain 
 to seek for a better elsewhere. 
 
 As good a one undoubtedly might have 
 been found ; 
 
 I trust there were within this realm 
 Five hundred as good as he,* 
 
 though there goes more to the making ol 
 a Peter Hopkins than of an Earl Percy. 
 But I very much doubt (and this is one of 
 the cases in which doubt scarcely differs a 
 shade from disbelief) whether there could 
 anywhere have been found another person 
 whose peculiarities would have accorded so 
 curiously with young Daniel's natural bent, 
 and previous education. Hopkins had asso- 
 ciated much with Guy, in the early part of 
 their lives ; (it was indeed through this 
 connexion that the lad was placed at Don- 
 caster) ; and, like Guy, he had tampered with 
 the mystical sciences. He knew the theories, 
 and views, and hopes 
 
 which set the Chymist on 
 
 To search that secret-natured stone, 
 Which the philosophers have told, 
 When found, turns all things into gold ; 
 But being hunted and not caught, 
 Oh ! sad reverse ! turns gold to nought, f 
 
 This knowledge he had acquired, like his 
 old friend, for its own sake, for the pure 
 love of speculation and curious inquiry, 
 not with the slightest intention of ever pur- 
 suing it for the desire of riches. He liked 
 it, because it was mysterious ; and he could 
 listen with a half-believing mind to the le- 
 gends (as they may be called) of those Adepts 
 who from time to time have been heard of, 
 living as erratic a life as the Wandering 
 Jew ; but with this difference, that they are 
 under no curse, and that they may forego 
 their immortality, if they do not choose to 
 renew the lease of it, by taking a dose of the 
 elixir in due time. 
 
 He could cast a nativity with as much ex- 
 actness, according to the rules of art, as 
 William Lilly, or Henry Coley, that Merli- 
 nus Anglicus Junior, upon whom Lilly's 
 mantle descended; or the Vicar of Thornton 
 in Buckinghamshire, William Bredon, a pro- 
 found Divine, and " absolutely the most 
 polite person for nativities in that age ; " 
 who being Sir Christopher Heydon's chap- 
 lain, had a hand in composing that Knight's 
 Defence of Judicial Astrology ; but withal 
 
 CHEVY CHACE. 
 
 f ARBUTHNOT.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 189 
 
 was so given over to tobacco and drink, that 
 when he had no tobacco, he would cut the 
 bell-ropes, and smoke them. 
 
 Peter Hopkins could erect a scheme either 
 according to the method of Julius Firmicus, 
 or of Aben-Ezra, or of Campanus, Alcabi- 
 tius, or Porphyrius, " for so many ways are 
 there of building these houses in the air ; " 
 and in that other called the Rational Way, 
 which in a great degree superseded the rest, 
 and which Johannes Muller, the great Regio- 
 montanus, gave to the world in his Tables of 
 Directions, drawn up at the Archbishop of 
 Strigonia's request. He could talk of the 
 fiery and the earthly Trigons, the aerial and 
 the watery ; and of that property of a tri- 
 angle (now no longer regarded at Cam- 
 bridge) whereby Sol and Jupiter, Luna and 
 Venus, Saturn and Mercury, respectively 
 become joint Trigonocrators, leaving Mars 
 to rule over the watery Trigon alone. He 
 knew the Twelve Houses as familiarly as he 
 knew his own ; the Horoscope, which is the 
 House of Life, or more awfully to unlearned 
 ears, Domus Vita ; the House of Gain and 
 the House of Fortune ; for Gain and 
 Fortune no more keep house together in 
 heaven, than either of them do with Wisdom, 
 and Virtue, and Happiness on earth ; the 
 Hypogeum, or House of Patrimony, which is 
 at the lowest part of heaven, the Imum Cceli, 
 though it be in many respects a good house 
 to be born in here below ; the Houses of 
 Children, of Sickness, of Marriage, and of 
 Death ; the House of Religion ; the House of 
 Honours, which, being the Mesouranema, is 
 also called the Heart of Heaven ; the Aga- 
 thodemon, or House of Friends, and the 
 Cacodemon, or House of Bondage. All 
 these he knew, and their Consignificators, 
 and their Chronocrators or Alfridarii, who 
 give to these Consignificators a septennial 
 dominion in succession. 
 
 He could ascertain the length of the 
 planetary hour at any given time and place, 
 anachronism being nowhere of greater con- 
 sequence, for if a degree be mistaken in 
 the scheme, there is a year's error in the 
 prognostication, and so in proportion for any 
 inaccuracy more or less. Sir Christopher 
 
 Heydon, the last great champion of this 
 occult science, boasted of possessing a watch 
 so exact in its movements, that it would give 
 him with unerring precision not the minute 
 only, but the very scruple of time. That 
 erudite professor knew 
 
 In quas Forturue leges qtueque hora valeret ; 
 Quantaque quam parvi facerent dfscrinrina motus.* 
 
 Peter Hopkins could have explained to a 
 student in this art, how its astronomical part 
 might be performed upon the celestial globe 
 "with speed, ease, delight, and demonstra- 
 tion." He could have expatiated upon con- 
 junctions and oppositions ; have descanted 
 upon the four Cardinal Houses ; signs fixed, 
 moveable, or common ; signs human and 
 signs bestial ; semi-sextiles, sextiles, quin- 
 tiles, quartiles, trediciles, trines, biquintiles 
 and quincunxes ; the ascension of the planets, 
 and their declination ; their dignities essen- 
 tial and accidental ; their exaltation and 
 retrogradation ; till the hearer by under- 
 standing a little of the baseless theory, here 
 and there, could have persuaded himself that 
 he comprehended all the rest. And if it had 
 been necessary to exact implicit and profound 
 belief, by mysterious and horisonant terms, 
 he could have amazed the listener with the 
 Lords of Decanats, the Five Fortitudes, 
 and the Head and Tail of the Dragon ; and 
 have astounded him by ringing changes upon 
 Almugea, Cazimi, Hyleeh, Aphetes, Ana- 
 cretes and Alcochodon. 
 
 " So far," says Fabian Withers, " are they 
 distant from the true knowledge of physic 
 which are ignorant of astrology, that they 
 ought not rightly to be called physicians, 
 but deceivers : for it hath been many 
 times experimented and proved, that that 
 which many physicians could not cure or 
 remedy with their greatest and strongest 
 medicines, the astronomer hath brought to 
 pass with one simple herb, by observing the 
 moving of the signs. There be certain evil 
 tunes and years of a man's life, which are at 
 every seven years' end. Wherefore if thou 
 wilt prolong thy days, as often as thou 
 comest to every seventh or ninth year (if 
 
 * MANILICS.
 
 190 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 thou givest any credit to Marsilius Ficinus. 
 or Firmicus), diligently consult with an as- 
 tronomer, from whence and by what means 
 any peril or danger may happen, or come 
 unto thee ; then either go unto a physician, 
 or use discretion and temperance, and by 
 that means thou mayest defer and prolong 
 thy natural life through the rules of astro- 
 nomy, and the help of the physician. Neither 
 be ashamed to inquire of the physician what 
 is thy natural diet, and of the astronomer 
 what star doth most support and favour thy 
 life, and to see in what aspect he is with the 
 moon." 
 
 That once eminent student in the mathe- 
 matics and the celestial sciences, Henry 
 Coley,who, as Merlin junior continued Lilly's 
 Almanac, and published also his own yearly 
 Nuncius Sydereus, or Starry Messenger, 
 the said Coley, whose portrait in a flowing 
 wig and embroi 'ered band, most unlike to 
 Merlin, has made his Ephemeris in request 
 among the Graingerites, he tells us it is 
 from considering the nature of the planets, 
 together with their daily configurations, and 
 the mixture of their rays or beams of light 
 and heat, that astrologers deduce their 
 judgment of what may probably, not posi- 
 tively happen : for Nature, he observes, 
 works very abstrusely ; and one person may 
 be able to make a better discovery than 
 another, whence arise diversities of opinion 
 too often about the same thing. The phy- 
 sician knows that the same portion of either 
 single or compound simples will not work 
 upon all patients alike ; so neither can the 
 like portion and power of qualities stir up, 
 or work always the same; but may some- 
 times receive either intention or remission 
 according to the disposed aptness of the 
 subject, the elements or elementary bodies 
 not always admitting of their powers alike, 
 or when they be overs w ay ed by more potent 
 and prevalent operations. For universal and 
 particular causes do many times differ so as 
 the one hinders the operation of the other ; 
 and Nature may sometimes be so abstrusely 
 shut up, that what we see not may over- 
 power and work beyond what we see." 
 
 Thus were these professors of a pseudo- 
 
 science always provided with, an excuse, 
 however grossly their predictions might be 
 contradicted by the event. It is a beautiful 
 specimen of the ambiguity of the art that the 
 same aspect threatened a hump-back or the 
 loss of an eye ; and that the same horoscope 
 which prognosticated a crown and sceptre 
 was held to be equally accomplished if the 
 child were born to a fool's-cap, a bauble, and 
 a suit of motley. "The right worshipful, 
 and of singular learning in all sciences, Sir 
 Thomas Smith, the flower in his time of the 
 University of Cambridge," and to whom, 
 more than to any other individual, both 
 Universities are beholden ; for when Parlia- 
 ment, in its blind zeal for ultra-reformation, 
 had placed the Colleges, as well as the Re- 
 ligious Houses at the King's disposal, he, 
 through Queen Katharine Par, prevailed 
 upon Henry to preserve them, instead of 
 dividing them also among the great court 
 cormorants ; and he it was who reserved 
 for them the third part of their rents in 
 corn, making that a law which had always 
 been his practice when he was Provost of 
 Eton : this Sir Thomas used, as his grateful 
 pupil Richard Eden has recorded, to call 
 astrology ingeniosissimam artem mentiendi, 
 the most ingenious art of lying. 
 
 Ben Jonson's servant and pupil* has given 
 some good comic examples of the way in 
 which those who honestly endeavoured to 
 read the stars might be deceived, thqugh 
 when the stars condescended " to palter in a 
 double sense " it was seldom in so good a 
 humour. 
 
 One told a gent'eman 
 
 His son should be a man-killer, and be hang'd for't j 
 Who after proved a great and rich physician, 
 And with great fame, in the University 
 Hang'd up in picture for a grave example ! 
 
 Another schemist 
 
 Found that a squint-eyed boy should prove a notable 
 Pick-purse, and afterwards a most strong thief; 
 When he grew up to be a cunning lawyer, 
 And at last died a Judge ! 
 
 * BROOME.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 191 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXV1L 
 
 ASTROLOGY. ALMANACKS. PRISCIIXIANISM 
 RETAINED IN THEM TO THIS TIME. 
 
 I wander 'twixt the poles 
 And heavenly hinges, 'mongst eccentricals, 
 Centers, concentricks, circles, and epicycles. 
 
 ALBCMAZAR. 
 
 THE connexion between astrology and the 
 art of medicine is not more firmly believed 
 in Persia at this day, than it was among the 
 English people during the age of almanack- 
 makers. The column which contained the 
 names of the saints for every day, as fully 
 as they are still given in Roman Catholic 
 almanacks, was less frequently consulted 
 than those in which the aspects were set 
 down, and the signs and the parts of the 
 human body under their respective gover- 
 nance. Nor was any page in the book re- 
 garded with more implicit belief than that 
 which represented the " Anatomy of Man's 
 body as the parts thereof are governed by 
 the twelve Constellations, or rather by the 
 Moon as she passeth by them." In those 
 representations man indeed was not more 
 uglily than fearfully made, as he stood 
 erect and naked, spiculated by emitted in- 
 fluences from the said signs, like another St. 
 Sebastian ; or as he sate upon the globe 
 placed like a butt for him, while they radi- 
 ated their shafts of disease and pain. 
 
 Portentous as the Homo in the almanack 
 is, he made a much more horrific appearance 
 in the Margarita Philosophica, which is a 
 Cyclopaedia of the early part of the 16th cen- 
 tury. There Homo stands, naked but not 
 ashamed, upon the two Pisces, one foot upon 
 each, the Fish being neither in air, nor 
 water, nor upon earth, but self-suspended 
 as it appears in the void. Aries has alighted 
 with two feet on Homo's head, and has sent 
 a shaft through the forehead into his brain. 
 Taurus has quietly seated himself across his 
 neck. The Gemini are riding astride a little 
 below his right shoulder. The whole trunk 
 is laid open, as if part of the old accursed 
 punishment for high treason had been per- 
 formed upon him. The Lion occupies the 
 
 thorax as his proper domain, and the Crab 
 is in possession of the abdomen. Sagitta- 
 rius, volant in the void, has just let fly an 
 arrow, which is on the way to his right arm. 
 Capricornus breathes out a visible influence 
 that penetrates both knees ; Aquarius inflicts 
 similar punctures upon both legs. Virgo 
 fishes as it were at his intestines ; Libra at 
 the part affected by schoolmasters in their 
 anger ; and Scorpio takes the wickedest aim 
 of all. 
 
 The progress of useful knowledge has in 
 our own days at last banished this man from 
 the almanack ; at least from all annuals of 
 that description that carry with them any 
 appearance of respectability. If it has put 
 an end to this gross superstition, it has done 
 more than the Pope could do fourteen cen- 
 turies ago, when he condemned it, as one of 
 the pernicious errors of the Priscillianists. 
 
 In a letter to Turribius, Bishop of As- 
 torga, concerning that heresy, Pope St. Leo 
 the Great says : Si universes haereses, quce 
 ante Priscilliani tempus exortce sunt, diligen- 
 tius retractentur, nullus pene invenitur error 
 de quo non traxerit impietas ista contagium : 
 quce non contenta eorum recipere falsitates, qui 
 <ib Evangelio Christi sub Christi nomine de- 
 viarunt, tenebris se etiam paganitatis immersit, 
 ut per magicarum artium prophana secreta, 
 et mathematicorum vana mendacia, religionis 
 fidem, morumque rationem in potestate dcemo- 
 num, et in affectu syderum collocarent. Quod 
 si et credi liceat et doceri, nee virtutibus prce- 
 mium, nee vitiis pcena debebitur, omniaque non 
 solum humanarum legum, sed etiam divinarum 
 comtitutionum decreta solventur : quia neque 
 de bonis, neque de malis actibus ullum poterit 
 esse judicium, si in utramque partem fatalis 
 necessitas motum mentis impellit, et quicquid 
 ab hominibus agitur, non -est hominum, sed 
 astrorum. Ad hanc insaniam pertinet pro- 
 digiosa ilia totius humani corporis per duo- 
 decim Ccelisigna distinctio, ut diversis partibus 
 diversce prcesideant potestates ; et creatura, 
 quam Deus ad imaginem suam fecit, in tantd 
 sit obligatione syderum, in quanta est connec- 
 tionc membrorum. 
 
 But invention has been as rare among 
 heretics as among poets. The architect of
 
 192 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 the Priscillian heresy (the male heresy of 
 that name, for there was a female one also) 
 borrowed this superstition from the mathe- 
 maticians, as the Romans called the astro- 
 logical impostors of those times. For this 
 there is the direct testimony of Saint Au- 
 gustine : Astruunt etiam fatalibus stellis ho- 
 mmes colligates, ipsumque corpus nostrum 
 secundum duodecim signa cceli essc composi- 
 tum ; sicut hi qui Mathematici vulgo appellan- 
 tur, constituentes in capite Arietem, Taurum 
 in cervice, Geminos in humeris, Cancfiim in 
 pecfore, et cetera nominaiim signa percurrentes 
 ad plantas usque perveniunt, quas Piscibus 
 tribuunt, quad ultimum signum ab Astrologis 
 nuncupatur. 
 
 These impostors derived this part of their 
 craft from Egypt, where every month was 
 supposed to be under the care of three 
 Decans or Directors, for the import of the 
 word must be found in the neighbouring 
 language of the Hebrews and Syrians. 
 There were thirty-six of these, each super- 
 intending ten days ; and these Decans were 
 believed to exercise the most extensive in- 
 fluence over the human frame. Astrological 
 squares calculated upon this mythology are 
 still in existence. St. Jerome called it the 
 opprobrium of Egypt. 
 
 The medical superstition derived from this 
 remote antiquity has continued down to the 
 present generation in the English almanacks, 
 is still continued in the popular almanacks 
 of other countries, and prevails at this time 
 throughout the whole Mahommedan and 
 Eastern world. So deeply does error strike 
 its roots, and so widely scatter its seeds ; 
 and so difficult is it to extirpate any error 
 whatsoever, or any evil, which it is the in- 
 terest of any class of men to maintain. And 
 the rogues had much to say for themselves. 
 
 " Notwithstanding the abuses put upon 
 the art of Astrology," said an eminent Pro- 
 fessor, " doubtless some judgment may be 
 made thereby what any native may be by 
 nature prone or addicted to. For the as- 
 pects of the Planets among themselves, as 
 also the Fixed Stars, 'tis more than sup- 
 posed, may cause many strange effects in 
 sublunary bodies, but especially in those 
 
 that have been almost worn out with de- 
 crepit age, or debilitated with violent or 
 tedious diseases ; wherefore this knowledge 
 may be requisite, and of excellent use to 
 physicians and chirurgeons, &c., for old aches 
 and most diseases do vary according to the 
 change of the air and weather, and that pro- 
 ceeds from the motion of the heavens and 
 aspects of the planets." Who that has any 
 old aches in his bones, or has felt his 
 corns shoot. but must acknowledge the 
 truth that was brought forward here in sup- 
 port of an impudent system of imposture? 
 The natural pride, and the natural piety of 
 man, were both appealed to when he was 
 told that the stars were appointed for signs 
 and tokens, that "the reason why God 
 hath given him an upright countenance is, 
 that he might converse with the celestial 
 bodies, which are placed for his service as 
 so many diamonds in an azure canopy of 
 perpetuity," and that astrologers had a 
 large field to walk in, for " all the produc- 
 tions of Time were the subjects of their 
 science, and there is nothing under the Sun 
 but what is the birth of Time." There is 
 no truth however pure, and however sacred, 
 upon which falsehood cannot fasten, and en- 
 graft itself therein. 
 
 Laurence Humphrey, who was sufficiently 
 known in Queen Elizabeth's days as one of 
 the standard-bearers of the ^Nonconformists, 
 but who, like many others, grew conform- 
 able in the end as he grew riper in ex- 
 perience and sager in judgment, in his 
 Optimates or Treatise concerning Nobility, 
 which he composed for the use of that class 
 and of the Gentry, observed how " this sci- 
 ence above all others was so snatched at, so 
 beloved, and even devoured by most persons 
 of honour and worship, that they needed no 
 excitement to it, but rather a bridle; no 
 trumpeter to set them on, but a reprover to 
 take them off from their heat. Many," he 
 said, " had so trusted to it, that they almost 
 distrusted God." He would not indeed 
 wholly condemn the art, but the nobility 
 should not have him a persuader nor an ap- 
 plauder of it; for there were already enough ! 
 In vain might a JJishop warn his hearers
 
 TIII-; DOCTOR. 
 
 193 
 
 from the pulpit and from the press that " no 
 soothsayer, no palterer, no judicial astro- 
 loger is able to tell any man the events of 
 his life." Man is a dupeable annual. Quacks 
 in medicine, quacks in religion, and quacks 
 in politics know this, and act upon that 
 knowledge. There is scarcely any one who 
 may not, like a trout, be taken by tickling. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXVm. 
 
 AN INCIDENT WHICH BRINGS THE AUTHOR 
 INTO A FORTUITOUS RESEMBLANCE WITH 
 THE PATRIARCH OF THE PREDICANT 
 FRIARS. DIFFERENCES BETWEEN THE FACT 
 AND THE FABLE ; AND AN APPLICATION 
 WHICH, UNLIKE THOSE THAT ARE USUAXJLT 
 APPENDED TO ESOP's FABLES, THE REA- 
 DER IS LIKELY NEITHER TO SKIP NOR TO 
 FORGET. 
 
 Dire aqui una mcUdad grande del Demonio. 
 
 PEDRO DE CIECA DE LEON. 
 
 WHILE I was writing that last chapter, a 
 flea appeared upon the page before me, as 
 there did once to St. Dominic. 
 
 But the circumstances in my case and in 
 St. Dominic's were different. 
 
 For, in the first place I, as has already 
 been said, was writing ; but St. Dominic 
 was reading. 
 
 Secondly, the flea which came upon my 
 paper was a real flea, a flea of flea-flesh and 
 blood, partly flea-blood and partly mine, 
 which the said flea had flea- feloniously ap- 
 propriated to himself by his own process of 
 flea-botomy. That which appeared upon 
 St. Dominic's book was the Devil in dis- 
 guise 
 
 The intention with which the Devil 
 abridged himself into so diminutive a form, 
 was that he might distract the Saint's atten- 
 tion from his theological studies, by skipping 
 upon the page, and perhaps provoke him to 
 unsaintlike impatience by eluding his fingers. 
 
 But St. Dominic was not so to be de- 
 ceived : he knew who the false flea was ! 
 
 To punish him therefore for this diabo- 
 lical intrusion, he laid upon him a holy spell 
 
 whereby Flea Beelzebub was made to serve 
 as a marker through the whole book. When 
 Dominic, whether in the middle of a sen- 
 tence or at the end, lifted his eyes from 
 the page in meditation, Flea Beelzebub 
 moved to the word at which the Saint had 
 paused, he moved not by his own dia- 
 bolical will, but in obedience to an impulse 
 which he had no power to resist ; and there 
 he remained, having as little power to re- 
 move, till the Saint's eye having returned to 
 the book, and travelled farther, stopped at 
 another passage. And thus St. Dominic 
 used him through the volume, putting him 
 moreover whenever he closed the book to 
 the peine forte et dure. 
 
 When Dominic had finished the volume, 
 he dismissed his marker. Had it been a 
 heretic, instead of the Devil, the canonised 
 founder of the Friars Predicant, and Patron 
 Saint of the Inquisition, would not have let 
 him off so easily. 
 
 Indeed I cannot but think that his lenity 
 in this case was ill-placed. He should have 
 dealt with that flea as I did with mine. 
 
 " How, Mr. Author, was that ?" 
 
 " I dealt with it, Sir, as Agesilaus un- 
 ceremoniously did with one victim upon the 
 altar of Chalcioecious Pallas, at the same 
 time that with all due ceremony he was 
 sacrificing another. An ox was the pre- 
 meditated and customary victim; the ex- 
 temporaneous and extraordinary one was a 
 six-footed ' small deer.' Plutarch thought 
 the fact worthy of being recorded ; and we 
 may infer from it that the Spartans did not 
 always comb their long hair so carefully as 
 the Three Hundred did at Thermopylae, 
 when on the morning of that ever-glorious 
 fight, they made themselves ready to die 
 there in obedience to the institutions of 
 their country. What the King of Lace- 
 da?mon did with his crawler, I did with my 
 skipper ; I cracked it, Sir." 
 
 " And for what imaginable reason can 
 you have thought fit to publish such an in- 
 cident to the world ? " 
 
 "For what reason, Sir? why, that Hop- 
 o'-my-thumb the critic may know what he 
 has to expect, if I lay hold of him !"
 
 194 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXIX. 
 
 A CHAPTER CHARACTERISTIC OF FRENCH 
 ANTIQUARIES, FRENCH LADIES, FRENCH 
 LAWYERS, FRENCH JUDGES, FRENCH LITER- 
 ATURE, AND FRENCHNESS IN GENERAL. 
 
 Quid de pulicibut f vitte salientia puncta. 
 
 COWLEY. 
 
 Now, Reader, having sent away the small 
 Critic with a flea in his ear, I will tell you 
 something concerning one of the curiosities 
 of literature. 
 
 The most famous flea, for a real flea, that 
 has yet been heard of, for not even the 
 King of the Fleas, who, as Dr. Clarke and 
 his fellow traveller found to their cost, keeps 
 his court at Tiberias, approaches it in cele- 
 brity, nor the flea of that song, which 
 Mephistopheles sung in the cellar at Leip- 
 zig, that flea for whom the King ordered 
 breeches and hose from his own tailor ; who 
 was made prime minister ; and who, when 
 he governed the realm, distinguished him- 
 self, like Earl Grey, by providing for all his 
 relations: the most illustrious, I say, of 
 all fleas, pulicum facile princeps was 
 that flea which I know not whether to call 
 Mademoiselle des Roches's flea, or Pasquier's 
 flea, or the flea of Poictiers. 
 
 In the year 1579, when the Grands Jours, 
 or Great Assizes, were held at Poictiers 
 under President de Harlay, Pasquier, who 
 was one of the most celebrated advocates, 
 most accomplished scholars, and most learned 
 men in France, attended in the exercise of 
 his profession. Calling there one day upon 
 Madame des Roches and her daughter, 
 Mademoiselle Catherine, whom he describes 
 as Tune des plus belles et sages de nostre 
 France, while he was conversing with the 
 young lady he espied a flea, parquee au beau 
 milieu de son sein. 
 
 Upon this Pasquier made such a speech 
 as a Frenchman might be expected to make 
 upon so felicitous an occasion, admiring the 
 taste of the flea, envying its happiness, and 
 marvelling at its boldness de iestre mise en 
 
 si beau jour ; parce que jaloux de son hear, 
 pen s'en falloit, he says, que je ne misse la 
 main stir die, en deliberation de luy faire un 
 mauvais tour ; et bien luy prenoit quelle estoit 
 en lieu de franchise ! This led to a conten- 
 tion mignarde between the young lady and 
 the learned lawyer, who was then more than 
 fifty years of age ; foialement, ayant este 
 Tautheur de la noise, says Pasquier, je luy dis 
 que puisque ceste Puce avoit receu tant dheur 
 de se repaistre de son sang, et d'estre reci- 
 proquement honoree de nos propos, elle meritoit 
 encores d'estre enchassee dedans nos papiers, 
 et que tres-volontiers je ray employerois, si 
 cette Dame vouloit de sa part faire le sem- 
 blable ; chose quelle rriaccorda liberalement. 
 Each was in earnest, but each, according to 
 the old Advocate, supposed the other to be 
 in jest : both went to work upon this theme 
 after the visit, and each finished a copy of 
 verses about the same time, tombants en 
 quelques rencontres de mots les plus signuh-z 
 pour le subject. Pasquier thinking to sur- 
 prise the lady, sent his poem to her as soon 
 as he had transcribed it, on a Sunday morn- 
 ing, the better the day the better being 
 the deed ; and the lady apprehending that 
 they might have fallen upon some of the 
 same thoughts, lest she should be suspected 
 of borrowing what she knew to be her own, 
 sent back the first draught of her verses by 
 his messenger, not having had time to write 
 them fairly out. Heureuse, certes, rencontre 
 et jouyssance de deux esprits, qui passe d"un 
 long entrejet, toutes ces opinions follastrcs et 
 vulgaires d"amour. Que si en cecy tu me 
 permets d"y apporter quelque chose de man 
 jugement je te diray, qu'en fun tu trouveras 
 les discours d"une sage file, en Tautre les dis- 
 cours d"un homme qui nest pas trop fol; 
 ayants fun et Fautre par une bienseance des 
 nos sexes joue tels roolles que deoions, 
 
 The Demoiselle, after describing in her 
 poem the feats of the flea, takes a hint from 
 the resemblance in sound between puce and 
 pucelle, and making an allegorical use of 
 mythology, makes by that means a decorous 
 allusion to the vulgar notion concerning the 
 unclean circumstances by which fleas, as 
 they say, are bred :
 
 THE DOCTOR, 
 
 195 j 
 
 Puce, si ma plume estoit digne, 
 Je descrirois toslre origine ; 
 Et comment le plus grand des Die it f 
 Pour la terre quitlant les deux, 
 Vousfit naitre, comme il me semble, 
 Orion et vous tout ensemble. 
 
 She proceeds to say that Pan became ena- 
 moured of this sister of Orion ; that Diana, 
 to preserve her from his pursuit, metamor- 
 phosed her into a flea (en puce), and that in 
 this transformation nothing remained of her 
 
 Sinon 
 La crainte, Fadresse, et le nom. 
 
 Pasquier in his poem gave himself a pretty 
 free scope in his imaginary pursuits of the 
 flea, and in all the allusions to which its 
 name would on such an occasion invite an 
 old Frenchman. If the story had ended 
 here, it would have been characteristic 
 enough of French manners : Or voy, je te 
 prie, says Pasquier, que I fruict nous a pro- 
 duit cette belle altercation, ou pour mieux 
 dire, symbolization de deux ames. Ces deux 
 petits Jeux poetiques commencerent a courir 
 par les mains de plusieurs, et se trouverent si 
 agreables, que sur leur modelle, quelques per- 
 sonnages de marque voulurent estre de la 
 partie ; et s employ erent sur mesme subject a 
 qui mieux mieux, les uns en Latin, les autres 
 en Franqois, et quelques-uns en Tune et Fautre 
 langue : ayant chacun si bien exploits en son 
 endroict, qu a chacun doit demeurer la vic- 
 toire. 
 
 Among the distinguished persons who ex- 
 ercised their talents upon this worthy oc- 
 casion, Brisson was one ; that Brisson of 
 whom Henri III. said that no king but him- 
 self could boast of so learned a subject ; 
 who lent the assistance of his great name 
 and talents towards setting up the most 
 lawless of all tyrannies, that of an insurrec- 
 tionary government ; and who suffered death 
 under that tyranny, as the reward such men 
 always (and righteously as concerns them- 
 selves, however iniquitous the sentence) re- 
 ceive from the miscreants with whom they 
 have leagued. He began his poem much as 
 a scholar might be expected to do, by allud- 
 ing to the well-known pieces which had been 
 composed upon somewhat similar subjects. 
 
 Fcelices meritd Mures Ranteque loquaces 
 
 Quet's caci valis contigit ore cani : 
 Vivet et eztento lepidus Passerculus tevo 
 
 Cantatas numcris, culte Catulle tuis. 
 Te quaque, parve Culex, nulla unquam muta silebit 
 
 Posteritas, docti suave Maronis opus. 
 Ausoniusque Pulex, dubius quern conditiit attctor, 
 
 Canescet sieclis inmimerabilibus. 
 Pictonici at Pulicit longe prteclarior at sors, 
 
 Quern fovet in lepido castapuella sinu. 
 Fortunate Pulex nimium, tua si bona noris, 
 
 AUernis vatum nobilitate metris. 
 
 In the remainder of his poem Bvisson 
 t:ikes the kind of range which, if the subject 
 did not actually invite, it seemed at least to 
 permit. He produced also four Latin epi- 
 grams against such persons as might censure 
 him for such a production, and these, as 
 well as the poem itself, were translated into 
 French by Pasquier. This was necessary 
 for the public, not for Madame des Roches, 
 and her daughter, who were versed both in 
 Latin and Greek. Among the numerous 
 persons whom the Assizes had brought to 
 Poictiers, whether as judges, advocates, 
 suitors, or idlers, every one who could write 
 a Latin or a French verse tried his skill 
 upon this small subject. Tout le Parnasse 
 latin et franqois du royaume, says Titon du 
 Tillet, voulut prendre part a cette rare de- 
 couverte, sur tout apres avoir reconnu que la 
 Jille, quoique tres-sage, entendoit raillerie. 
 There is one Italian sonnet in the collection, 
 one Spanish, and, according to the Abbe 
 Goujet, there are some Greek verses, but in 
 the republication of Pasquier's works these 
 do not appear : they were probably omitted, 
 as not being likely ever again to meet with 
 readers. Some of the writers were men 
 whose names would have been altogether 
 forgotten if they had not been thus pre- 
 served ; and others might as well have been 
 forgotten for the value of any thing vhich 
 they have left ; but some were deservedly 
 distinguished in their generation, and had 
 won for themselves an honourable remem- 
 brance, which will not pass away. The Pre- 
 sident Harlay himself encouraged Pasquier 
 by an eulogistic epigram, and no less a per- 
 son than Joseph Scaliger figures in Catullian 
 verse among the flea-poets. 
 
 The name of the Demoiselle des Roches 
 afforded occasion for such allusions to the
 
 196 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 rocks of Parnassus as the dealers in common- 
 place poetry could not fail to profit by. 
 
 Nil rerum variat perennis ordo. 
 Et constant sibi Phoebus et sorores ; 
 Nee Pulez modo tot simul Poetas, 
 Sed Parnassia fecit ipsa rapes, 
 Rapes, aut HeUconia Hippocrene. 
 
 These verses were written by Pithou, to 
 whose satirical talents his own age was 
 greatly indebted for the part which he took 
 in the Satyre Menippee ; and to whose col- 
 lections and serious researches his country 
 will always remain so. Many others harped 
 upon the same string ; and Claude Binet, in 
 one of his poems, compared the Lady to 
 Rochelle, because all suitors had found her 
 impregnable. 
 
 Nicolas Rapin, by way of varying the 
 subject, wrote a poem in vituperation of the 
 aforesaid flea, and called it La Contrepuce. 
 He would rather, he said, write in praise of 
 a less mentionable insect ; which, however, 
 he did mention ; and, moreover, broadly 
 explained, and in the coarsest terms, the 
 Lady's allusion to Orion. 
 
 The flea having thus become the business, 
 as well as the talk of Poictiers, some epi- 
 grams were sported upon the occasion. 
 
 Causidicos habuil vigilantes Curia ; namque 
 lilis perpetuus tinnit in aure Pulez. 
 
 The name of Nicolas Rapinus is affixed to 
 this; that of Raphael Gallodonius to the 
 following. 
 
 Ad consultissimos Supremi Senatus GaJlioi 
 Patronos, in Rupees Pulicem ludentes. 
 
 Alidita causarum si vis responsa rejerre. 
 Hoi tarn perspicuos consule Causidicos : 
 
 Qui juris callent apices, vestigia morsu 
 Metiri pulicum carmine certa sciunt. 
 
 Ecquid eos latuisse putas dum seria tractant, 
 Qui dum nugantur, tarn bene parva canunt? 
 
 The President of the Parliament of Paris, 
 Pierre de Soulfour, compared the flea to the 
 Trojan horse, and introduced this gigantic 
 compliment with a stroke of satire- 
 Quid Magni pepertre Dies ? res mira canenda ett, 
 
 Vcra tamen ; Pulicem progenuere breveni. 
 Quicquid id est, tamen est magnum ; Magnisqtte 
 
 Diebut 
 
 Xon sine divino numine progenitum. 
 Illc utero potuit plures gestare poetas, 
 
 Quam tulit audaces techna Pelasga dares. 
 Tros equus heroes tantos nonfudit ab alvo, 
 Dulcisonos vales quot tulit isle Pulex. 
 
 Pasquier was proud of what he had done 
 in starting the flea, and of the numerous and 
 distinguished persons who had been pleased 
 to follow his example in poetising upon it ; 
 pour memorial de laquelle, he says, jai voulu 
 dresser ce trophee, qui est la publication de 
 lews vers. So he collected all these verses 
 in a small quarto volume, and published 
 them in 1582, with this title LA PUCE; OH 
 Jeux Poetiques Francois et Latins : composez 
 sur la Puce aux Grands Jours de Poictiers 
 Fan 1579 : dont Pasquier futle premier motif. 
 He dedicated the volume to the President 
 Harlay, in the following sonnet : 
 
 Pendant que du Harlay de Themis la lumiere. 
 Pour bannir de Poictou I'cspouventable. mal, 
 Exercant la justice a tous de poids egal, 
 
 Bestablessoit VAstree en ia chaire premiere ; 
 
 Quelques nobles esprils, pour se donner carriere, 
 Voulourent exulter un petit animal, 
 Et lay coler auxflancs les aisles du cheral 
 
 Qui prcnd jusque au del sa course coutumiere. 
 
 Harlay, man Achille, relasche tes esprits ; 
 
 Sousguigne d'un ban 'ceil tant soil peu ces escrils, 
 II attendent de toy, ou In mart, ou la vie : 
 
 Si tupers a les lire un Sful point de ton temps, 
 
 Ils vivront tmmortels dans le temple des ans, 
 Malgre I'oubly, la mart, le mesdire et Ccnvie. 
 
 The original volume would have passed 
 away with the generation to which it be- 
 longed, or if preserved, it would, like many 
 others more worthy of preservation, have 
 been found only in the cabinets of those who 
 value books for their rarity rather than 
 their intrinsic worth : this would have been 
 its fate if it had not been comprised in the 
 collective edition of Pasquier's works, which, 
 as relating to his own times, to the antiqui- 
 ties of his country, and to French literature, 
 are of the greatest importance. It was pro- 
 perly included there, not merely because it 
 is characteristic of the nation, and of the 
 age, but because it belongs to the history of 
 the individual. 
 
 Here in England the Circuit always serves 
 to sharpen the wits of those who are wait- 
 ing, some of them hungrily, and but too 
 many hopelessly, for practice; and as no- 
 where there is more talent running to seed 
 than at the bar, epigrams circulate there as 
 freely as opinions, and much more harm- 
 lessly. But that the elders of the profession, 
 and the judges, should take part in such
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 197 
 
 levities as the Jcux Poetiques of Poictiers, 
 would at all times have been as much out of 
 character iu England, as it would be still in 
 character among our lighter-heeled, lighter- 
 hearted, and lighter-headed neighbours. 
 The same facility in composing Latin verse 
 would not now be found at the French bar ; 
 but if a flea was started there, a full cry 
 might as easily be raised after it, as it was 
 at the Grands Jours held under the Pre- 
 sident Harlay ; and they who joined in the 
 cry would take exactly the same tone. You 
 would find in their poetry just as much of 
 \vh;it Pasquier calls mignardise, and just as 
 little exertion of intellect in any other direc- 
 tion. 
 
 It is not language alone, all but all-power- 
 ful in this respect as language is, which 
 makes the difference in whatever belongs to 
 poetry, between the French and the English. 
 We know how Donne has treated this very 
 subject; and we know how Cleveland, and 
 Randolph and Cowley would have treated 
 it, licentiously indeed, but with such a pro- 
 fusion of fantastic thought, that a prodigality 
 of talent would seem even greater than the 
 abuse. In later times, if such a theme had 
 presented itself, Darwin would have put the 
 flea in a solar microscope, and painted the 
 monster with surprising accuracy in the 
 most elaborate rhymes : he would then have 
 told of fleas which had been taken and 
 tamed, and bound in chains, or yoked to 
 carriages; and this he would have done in 
 couplets so nicely turned, and so highly 
 polished, that the poetical artist might seem 
 to vie with the flea-tamer and carriage- 
 builder in patience and in minute skill. 
 Cowper would have passed with playful but 
 melancholy grace 
 
 From gay to grave, from lively to severe, 
 
 and might have produced a second Task. 
 And in our own days, Rogers would case 
 the flea, like his own gnat, in imperishable 
 amber. Leigh Hunt would luxuriate in a 
 fairy poem, fanciful as Drayton's Nymphidia, 
 or in the best style of Herrick. Charles 
 Lamb would crack a joke upon the subject ; 
 but then he would lead his readers to think 
 
 while he was amusing them, make them feel 
 if they were capable of feeling, and perhaps 
 leave them in tears. Southey would give 
 us a strain of scornful satire and meditative 
 playfulness in blank verse of the Elizabethan 
 standard. Wordsworth, no, Wordsworth 
 would disdain the flea : but some imitator 
 of Wordsworth would enshrine the flea in a 
 Sonnet the thought and diction of which 
 would be as proportionate to the subject 
 matter, aa the Great Pyramid is to the 
 nameless one of the Pharaohs for whose 
 tomb it was constructed. Oxford and Cam- 
 bridge would produce Latin verses, good in 
 their manner as the best of Pasquier's col- 
 lection, and better in every thing else ; they 
 would give us Greek verses also, as many 
 and as good. Landor would prove himself 
 as recondite a Latinist as Scaliger, and a 
 better poet; but his hendecasyllables * would 
 not be so easily construed. Cruikshank 
 would illustrate the whole collection with 
 immortal designs, such as no other country, 
 and no other man could produce. The flea 
 would be introduced upon the stage in the 
 next new Pantomime ; Mr. Irving would 
 discover it in the Apocalypse ; and some 
 preacher of Rowland Hill's school would 
 improve it (as the phrase is) in a sermon, 
 and exhort his congregation to flee from sin. 
 
 I say nothing of Mr. Moore, and the half 
 dozen Lords who would mignardise the sub- 
 ject like so many Frenchmen. But how 
 would Bernard Barton treat it? Perhaps 
 Friend Barton will let us see in one of the 
 next year's Annuals. 
 
 I must not leave the reader with an un- 
 favourable opinion of the lady whose flea 
 obtained such singular celebrity, and who 
 quoique tres sage entendoit raillerie. Titon du 
 Tillet intended nothing equivocal by that ex- 
 pression; and the tone which the Flea-poets 
 took was in no degree derogatory to her, for 
 the manners of the age permitted it. Les 
 Dames des Roches, both mother and daugh- 
 
 * Landor's " Phaleuciorura Liber " was published at 
 Pisa in 1820. It is appended to his " Idyllia Heroica 
 Decem." The copy before me was his presentation copy 
 to Southey, with corrections in his own handwriting.
 
 198 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 ter, were remarkable and exemplary women ; 
 and there was a time when Poictiers derived 
 as much glory from these blue ladies as from 
 the Black Prince. The mother, after living 
 most happily with her husband eight-and- 
 twenty years, suffered greatly in her widow- 
 hood from vexatious lawsuits, difficult cir- 
 cumstances, and broken health ; but she had 
 great resources in herself, and in the dutiful 
 attachment of Catherine, who was her only 
 child, and whom she herself had nursed and 
 educated ; the society of that daughter 
 enabled her to bear her afflictions, not only 
 with patience but with cheerfulness. No 
 solicitations could induce Catherine to marry; 
 she refused ofiers which might in all other 
 respects have been deemed eligible, because 
 she would not be separated from her mother, 
 from whom she said death itself could not 
 divide her. And this was literally verified, 
 for in 1587 they both died of the plague on 
 the same day. 
 
 Both were women of great talents and 
 great attainments. Their joint works in 
 prose and verse were published in their life- 
 time, and have been several times reprinted, 
 but not since the year 1604. The poetry is 
 said to be of little value ; but the philoso- 
 phical dialogues are praised as being neither 
 deficient in genius nor in solidity, and as 
 compositions which may still be perused 
 with pleasure and advantage. This is the 
 opinion of a benevolent and competent critic, 
 the Abbe Goujet. I have never seen the 
 book. 
 
 Before I skip back to the point from 
 which my own flea and the Poictiers' flea 
 have led me, I must tell a story of an 
 English lady who under a similar circum- 
 stance was not so fortunate as Pasquier's ac- 
 complished friend. This lady, who lived in 
 the country, and was about to have a large 
 dinner party, was ambitious of making as 
 great a display as her husband's establish- 
 ment, a tolerably large one, could furnish : 
 so that there might seem to be no lack of 
 servants, a great lad, who had been employed 
 only in farm work, was trimmed and dressed 
 for the occasion, and ordered to take his 
 stand behind his mistress's chair, with strict 
 
 injunctions not to stir from the place, nor 
 do any thing unless she directed him ; the 
 lady well knowing that although no footman 
 could make a better appearance as a piece 
 of still-life, some awkwardness would be in- 
 evitable, if he were put in motion. Accord- 
 ingly Thomas, having thus been duly drilled 
 and repeatedly enjoined, took his post at the 
 head of the table behind his mistress, and 
 for a while he found sufficient amusement in 
 looking at the grand set-out, and staring at 
 the guests : when he was weary of this, and 
 of an inaction to which he was so little used, 
 his eyes began to pry about nearer objects. 
 It was at a time when our ladies followed 
 the French fashion of having the back and 
 shoulders under the name of the neck un- 
 covered much lower than accords either with 
 the English climate, or with old English 
 notions ; a time when, as Landor ex- 
 presses it, the usurped dominion of neck had 
 extended from the ear downwards, almost 
 to where mermaids become fish. This lady 
 was in the height, or lowness of that fashion ; 
 and between her shoulder-blades, in the 
 hollow of the back, not far from the confines 
 where nakedness and clothing met, Thomas 
 espied what Pasquier had seen upon the 
 neck of Mademoiselle des Roches. The 
 guests were too much engaged with the 
 business and the courtesies of the table to 
 see what must have been worth seeing, the 
 transfiguration produced in Thomas's coun- 
 tenance by delight, when he saw so fine an 
 opportunity of showing himself attentive, 
 and making himself useful. The lady was 
 too much occupied with her company to feel 
 the flea ; but to her horror she felt the great 
 finger and thumb of Thomas upon her back, 
 and to her greater horror heard him exclaim 
 in exultation, to the still greater amuse- 
 ment of the party a vlea, a vlea ! my lady, 
 ecod Tve caught 'en !
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 199 
 
 CHAPTER XC. 
 
 WHEREIN THE CURIOUS HEADER MAY FIND 
 SOME THINGS WHICH HE IS NOT LOOKING 
 FOR, AND WHICH THE INCURIOUS ONE MAY 
 SKIP IF HE PLEASES. 
 
 Vuulani doncyui-s satisfaire d la curiositf de touts bons 
 c>in/>,tf!>ioiis,j'ay remlve toutes les Pantarches ties Cieux, 
 calculi- U-s quadrats dela Lune, crochet^ tout cequejamais 
 pcnsfrfit! itiuls les Astrophiles, Hypernephelistes, Anemo- 
 p/iylacci, 1,'rtinopetes el Omprophozes . RABELAIS. 
 
 A MINUTE'S recollection will carry the reader 
 buck to the chapter whereon that accidental 
 immolation took place, which was the means 
 of introducing him to the bas-bleus of Poic- 
 tiers. We were then engaged upon the con- 
 nection which in Peter Hopkins's time still 
 subsisted between astrology and the practice 
 of medicine. 
 
 Court de Gebelin in his great hypotheti- 
 cal, fanciful, but withal ingenious, erudite, 
 and instructive work, says that the almanack 
 was one of the most illustrious and most 
 useful efforts of genius of the first men, and 
 that a complete history of it would be a 
 precious canvass for the history of the human 
 race, were it not that unfortunately many 
 of the necessary materials have perished. 
 On peril assurer, he says, que sans almanach, 
 les 'operations de I 'agriculture seroient incer- 
 taines ; que les travaux des champs ne se 
 rencontreroient que per hazard dans les terns 
 convendbles : qui il riy anroit ni fetes ni as- 
 semblees publiques, et que la memoire des terns 
 anciens ne seroit qrfun cahos. 
 
 This is saying a little too much. But 
 who is there that has not sometimes occasion 
 to consult the almanack ? Maximilian I. 
 by neglecting to do this failed in an enter- 
 prise against Bruges. It had been con- 
 certed with his adherents in that turbulent 
 city, that he should appear before it at a 
 certain time, and they would be ready to 
 rise in his behalf, and open the gates for 
 him. He forgot that it was leap-year, and 
 came a day too soon ; and this error on his 
 part cost many of the most zealous of his 
 friends their lives. It is remarkable that 
 
 neither the historian who relates this, nor 
 the writers who have followed him, should 
 have looked in the almanack to guard against 
 any inaccuracy in the relation ; for they 
 have fixed the appointed day on the eve of 
 St. Matthias, which being the 23d of Fe- 
 bruary could not be put out of its course 
 by leap-year. 
 
 This brings to my recollection a legal 
 anecdote, that may serve in like manner to 
 exemplify how. necessary it is upon any im- 
 portant occasion to scrutinise the accuracy 
 of a statement before it is taken upon trust. 
 A fellow was tried (at the Old Bailey, if I 
 remember rightly) for highway robbery, 
 and the prosecutor swore positively to him, 
 saying he had seen his face distinctly, for it 
 was a bright moonlight night. The counsel 
 for the prisoner cross-questioned the man, 
 so as to make him repeat that assertion, and 
 insist upon it. He then affirmed that this 
 was a most important circumstance, and a 
 most fortunate one for the prisoner at the 
 bar : because the night on which the alleged 
 robbery was said to have been committed 
 was one in which there had been no moon ; 
 it was during the dark quarter ! In proof 
 of this he handed an almanack to the Bench, 
 and the prisoner was acquitted accord- 
 ingly. The prosecutor, however, had stated 
 every thing truly ; and it was known after- 
 wards that the almanack with which the 
 counsel came provided had been prepared 
 and printed for the occasion. 
 
 There is a pleasing passage in Sanazzaro's 
 Arcadia, wherein he describes two large 
 beechen tablets, suspended in the temple of 
 Pan, one on each side of the altar, scritte di 
 rusticane lettere; le quali successivamente di 
 tempo in tempo per molti anni conservate dai 
 passati pastori, contenevano in se le antiche 
 leggi, e gli ammaestramenti della pastorale 
 vita : dalle quali tutto quello che fra le selve 
 oggi se adopra, ebbe prima origine. One of 
 these tablets contained directions for the 
 management of cattle. In the other eran 
 notati tutti i di delf anno, e i vary mutamenti 
 deUe stagioni, e la inegualitd delle notte e del 
 giorno, insieme con la osservazione delle ore, 
 non poco necessarie a viverdi, e li non falsi
 
 200 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 pronostici dclle tempestati : e quando il Sole 
 con suo nascimento denunzia serenita, e quando 
 pioggia, e quando venti, e quando grandini; 
 e quali giorni son della luna fortunati, e quali 
 infelici alle opre d mortali : e che ciascuno 
 in ciascuna ora dovesse fuggire, o seguitare, 
 per non qffendere le osservabili volonta degli 
 Dii. 
 
 It is very probable that Sanazzaro has 
 transferred to his pastoral what may then 
 have been the actual usage in more retired 
 parts of the country, and that before the 
 invention of printing rendered almanacks 
 accessible to every one, a calendar, which 
 served for agricultural as well as ecclesias- 
 tical purposes, was kept in every consider- 
 able church. Olaus Magnus says that the 
 northern countrymen used to have a calen- 
 dar cut upon their walking-sticks (baculos 
 unnales, he calls them) ; and that when they 
 met at church from distant parts, they laid 
 their heads together and made their com- 
 putations. The origin of these wooden 
 almanacks, which belong to our own anti- 
 quities, as well as to those of Scandinavia, is 
 traced hypothetically to the heathen temple, 
 authentically to the Church. It has been 
 supposed that the Cimbri received the Julian 
 calendar from Cassar himself, after his con- 
 quest, as it is called, of Britain ; and that it 
 was cut in Runic characters for the use of 
 the priests, upon the rocks, or huge stones, 
 which composed their rude temples, till 
 some one thought of copying it on wood and 
 rendering it portable, for common use : 
 donee tandem, (are Wormius's words,) in- 
 genii rara dexteritate emersit ille, quisquis 
 tandem f uerit, qui per lignea hacce compen- 
 dia, tarn utile tamque necessarium negotium 
 plebi communicandum duxit: cujus nomen si 
 exstaret tequiore jure fastis hisce insereretur, 
 quam multorum tituli, quos boni publici cura 
 vix unquam tetigit. 
 
 The introduction of the Julian calendar 
 at that time is, however, nothing better than 
 an antiquary's mere dream. At a later 
 period the Germans, who had much more 
 communication with the Romans than ever 
 the Scandinavians had, divided the year into 
 three seasons, if Tacitus was rightly in- 
 
 formed ; this being one consequence of the 
 little regard which they paid to agriculture. 
 Hyems et ver et cestas intellectum ac vocabula 
 habent ; autumni perinde nomen ac bona igno- 
 rantur. 
 
 Moreover, Wormius was assured, (and 
 this was a fact which might well have been 
 handed down by memory, and was not likely 
 to have been recorded), that the wooden 
 almanacks were originally copied from a 
 written one in a very ancient manuscript 
 preserved in the church at Drontheim. 
 There is no proof that a pagan Rimstofte 
 ever existed in those countries. The clergy 
 had no interest in withholding this kind of 
 knowledge from the people even in the 
 darkest ages of papal tyranny and monkish 
 imposture. But during the earlier idolatries 
 of the Romans it seems to have been with- 
 held ; and it was against the will of the 
 Senate that the Fasti were first divulged to 
 the people by Cneius Flavius Scriba. 
 
 The carelessness of the Romans during 
 many ages as to the divisions of time, seems 
 scarcely compatible even with the low de- 
 gree of civilisation which they had attained. 
 We are told that when the Twelve Tables 
 were formed, no other distinctions of the 
 day than those of sunrise and sunset were 
 known among them by name ; that some 
 time after they began to compute from noon 
 to noon ; and that for three hundred years 
 they had nothing whereby to measure an 
 hour, nor knew of any such denomination, 
 tamdiu populi Romani indiscreta luxfuit. A 
 brazen pillar, which marked the hour of 
 noon by its shortest shadow, was the only 
 means of measuring time, till, in the first 
 Punic war, the Consul M. Valerius Messala 
 brought thither a sun-dial from the spoils of 
 Catana in Sicily. This was in the 477th year 
 of the City ; and by that dial the Romans 
 went ninety-nine years without adapting it 
 to the meridian of Rome. A better was 
 then erected; but they were still without 
 any guide in cloudy weather, till in the year 
 595 after the building of the City, Scipio 
 Nasica introduced the water-clock, which is 
 said to have been invented about eighty 
 years before by Ctesibius of Alexandria.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 201 
 
 When the Romans had begun to advance in 
 civilisation, no people ever made a more 
 rapid progress in all the arts and abuses which 
 follow in its train. Astrology came with 
 astronomy from the East, for science had 
 speedily been converted into a craft, and in 
 the age of the Caesars the Egyptian profes- 
 sors cf that craft were among the pests of 
 Rome. 
 
 More than one Roman calendar is in ex- 
 istence, preserved by the durability of the 
 material, which is a square block of marble. 
 Each side contains three months, in parallel 
 columns, headed by the appropriate signs of 
 the zodiac. In these the astronomical inform- 
 ation was given, with directions for the agri- 
 cultural business of the month, and notices 
 of the respective gods under whose tutelage 
 the months were placed, and of the religious 
 festivals in their course, with a warning to 
 the husbandmen against neglecting those 
 religious duties, upon the due performance 
 of which the success of their labours de- 
 pended. 
 
 Those learned authors who look in the 
 Scriptures for what is not to be found there, 
 and supply by conjectures whatever they 
 wish to find, have not decided whether as- 
 tronomy was part of Adam's infused know- 
 ledge, or whether it was acquired by him, 
 and his son Seth ; but from Seth they say it 
 descended to Abraham, and he imparted it 
 to the Egyptians. Whatever may be thought 
 of this derivation, the Egyptian mind seems 
 always to have pullulated with superstition, 
 as the slime of their own Nile is said to have 
 fermented into low and loathsome forms of 
 miscreated life. The Rabbis say that ten 
 measures of witchcraft were sent into the 
 world, and Egypt got nine of them. 
 
 The Greeks are said to have learned from 
 the Babylonians the twelve divisions of the 
 day. The arrow-headed* inscriptions at 
 Babylon are supposed by some of those who 
 have bestowed most attention upon them to 
 be calendars : and there can be little doubt 
 
 * See the Paper of N. L. Westergaard on the Median 
 Species of Arrow-headed Writing, in the Memoires de la 
 Societe lloyale det Antiquaires du Nord, 1844, p. 271., 
 &c. 
 
 that where the divisions of time were first 
 scientifically observed, there the first calen- 
 dar would be formed. In Egypt, however, 
 it is that we hear of them first; and such 
 resemblances exist between the Egyptian 
 calendar, and the oldest of those which have 
 been discovered in the north of Europe, that 
 Court de Gebelin supposes they must have 
 had a common origin, and in an age anterior 
 to those Chaldeans whose astronomical ob- 
 servations ascended nineteen hundred years 
 before the age of Alexander. This is too 
 wild an assumption to be soberly maintained. 
 What is common to both found its way to 
 Scandinavia in far later times. Christianity 
 was imported into those countries with all 
 the corruptions which it had gathered in the 
 East as well as in the West ; and the Chris- 
 tian calendar brought with it as many super- 
 stitions of European growth, as there was 
 room for inserting. There was room for 
 many even upon the Norwegian staff. 
 
 The lineal descendant of that rimstoke was 
 still in use in the middle of England at the 
 close of the 17th century ; though it was 
 then, says Plot, a sort of antiquity so little 
 known that it had hardly been heard of in 
 the southern parts, and was understood but 
 by few of the gentry in the northern. 
 Clogg f was the English name, whether so 
 called from the word log, because they were 
 generally made of wood, and not so com- 
 monly of oak or fir as of box ; or from the 
 resemblance of the larger ones to the clogs, 
 " wherewith we restrain the wild, extrava- 
 gant, mischievous motions of some of our 
 dogs," he knew not. There were some few 
 of brass. Some were of convenient size for 
 the pocket ; and there were larger ones, 
 which used to hang at one end of the mantle 
 tree of the chimney for family use ; as in 
 Denmark the rimstoke was found in every 
 respectable yeoman's house at the head of 
 the table, or suspended from a beam. Plot 
 minutely and carefully described these, and 
 endeavoured, but not always with success, 
 
 t The Icelandic is Klotr, the Danish, Klog. On this 
 point, see the Specimen Caleudarii Gentilis, appended to 
 the 3d vol. of the JEdda Stemundar him Froda, pp. 999 
 1124.
 
 202 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 to explain some of the hieroglyphes or sym- 
 bols by which the festivals were denoted; 
 all which he had seen had only the Prime 
 (or Golden Number) and the immovable 
 feasts; the Prime, so called as indicating 
 primas lunas through the year, our ancestors 
 set in the margin of their calendars in cha- 
 racters of gold, and thence its other name. 
 
 The rudest that has ever been discovered 
 was found in pulling down part of a chateau 
 in Bretagne. Its characters had so magical 
 an appearance, that it would have been con- 
 demned by acclamation to the flames, if the 
 Lord of the Chateau had not rescued it, 
 thinking it was more likely to puzzle an an- 
 tiquary than to raise the Devil. He sent it 
 to Sainte-Palaye, and M. Lancelot succeeded 
 in fully explaining it. Most barbarous as it 
 was, there is reason for concluding that it 
 was not older than the middle of the 17th 
 century. 
 
 In Peter Hopkins's time the clogg was 
 still found in farm houses. He remem- 
 bered when a countryman had walked to the 
 nearest large town, thirty miles distant, for 
 the express purpose of seeing an almanack, 
 the first that had been heard of in those 
 parts. His inquiring neighbours crowded 
 round the man on his return. " Well 
 well," said he, " I know not ! it maffles 
 and talks. But all I could make out is that 
 Collop Monday falls on a Tuesday next 
 year." 
 
 CHAPTER XCI. 
 
 THE AUTHOR DISPLAYS A LITTLE MORE OF 
 SUCH READING AS IS SELDOM READ, AND 
 SHOWS THAT LORD BYRON AND AN ESSEX 
 WIDOW DIFFERED IN OPINION CONCERN- 
 ING FRIDAY. 
 
 Sij'avois disperse ceci en divers endroits de man ouv- 
 rage, j'aurois evile la censure de ceux qui appelleront ce 
 chapitre un fatras de petit recuefls. Mais comme je 
 cherche la commodite de mes Iccteurs plutAt que Ut mienne, 
 je vcux bien au depens de cette censure, leur (pargnerla 
 peine de rassembler ce quej'auroit disperse. BAYLE. 
 
 THERE is no superstition, however harmless 
 it may appear, and may indeed long con- 
 
 tinue to be, but has in it some latent evil. 
 Much has arisen from the distinction of un- 
 lucky days, which may very innocently and 
 naturally have originated, though it was 
 afterwards dexterously applied by astro- 
 logers, and by the priests of false religions, 
 to their own purposes. No one would 
 willingly commence an important under- 
 taking on the anniversary of a day which 
 had brought to him some great and irrepar- 
 able calamity. It would be indecent to fix 
 upon St. Bartholomew's for a day of public 
 rejoicing in France ; or in Portugal, upon 
 that day on which Lisbon was laid in ruins 
 by the great earthquake. On the other 
 hand an English General, and an English 
 army, would feel something more than their 
 wonted hope and expectation of victory, if 
 they gave the enemy battle on the anniver- 
 saries of Waterloo, or Blenheim, Cressy, 
 Poictiers, or Agincourt. God be thanked 
 neither our fleets, nor armies have ever yet 
 caused a day to be noted with black in the 
 English calendar ! 
 
 But many a good ship has lost that tide 
 which might have led to fortune, because 
 the captain and the crew thought it unlucky 
 to begin their voyage on a Friday. You 
 were in no danger of being left behind by 
 the packet's sailing on that day, however 
 favourable the wind, if it were possible for 
 the captain to devise any excuse for re- 
 maining till the morrow in harbour. Lord 
 Byron partook this superstition ; and if any 
 thing of the slightest importance in which 
 he was concerned were commenced on a 
 Friday, he was seriously disconcerted. 
 
 Such, however, are the effects of supersti- 
 tious animosity, that (as the Puritans in the 
 next generation made Christmas- day a fast 
 by an ordinance of Parliament) in James 
 the First's reign Friday was kept as a sort 
 of holyday. The biographer of a Spanish 
 lady, who came to England for the purpose 
 of secretly serving the Roman Catholic 
 cause, says " that among her other griefs 
 she had that of hearing the wheel go round, 
 by which they roasted whole quarters of 
 beef on every Friday, delighting to profane 
 with forbidden food that day on which the
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 203 
 
 catholics, by fasting and other works of 
 penitence, manifested their sense, every week 
 throughout the year, of the sufferings of 
 their Lord and Saviour. In all English 
 houses," he says, " both private and public 
 (to which latter great part of the people 
 went for their meals), all kinds of meat 
 roasted and boiled are seen on Fridays, 
 Good Friday not excepted, as if it were a 
 land of Jews or Turks. The nobles in par- 
 ticular reserve their feasts and entertain- 
 ment of all kinds of meats and delicacies for 
 Fridays. It is the sport of the great, and 
 their sort of piety, to testify by these sacri- 
 leges their hatred to the Roman church." 
 
 There is probably some exaggeration in 
 this statement ; and if the biographer was 
 conversant with the history of his own 
 country, he must have known that there 
 was a time when his own countrymen made 
 it a point of duty to eat pork on Saturdays, 
 for the sake of despiting the Jews. But 
 the practice cannot have been so common as 
 he represents it ; for if it had, Friday would 
 not have retained its inauspicious character 
 to the present time. Yet even this which 
 is in common opinion the most unlucky of 
 all the days, may, from particular circum- 
 stances, deserve, it appears, to be marked 
 with a white stone. Upon a trial brought 
 at the Chelmsford Assizes, by a disconsolate 
 widow against a faithless suitor, for breach 
 of promise, a letter of the defendant's was 
 produced, containing this passage : " Mrs. 
 Martha Harris, you say I have used you ill ; 
 but I do not think I have at all ; for I told 
 you not to count too much, lest something 
 should happen to disappoint. You say the 
 day was mine ; but respecting that, I said, 
 ' if before harvest it must be very soon, or 
 it would be in harvest;' and you said ' fix 
 any time soon.' But you said you should 
 like to marry on a Friday, for you thought 
 that a good day ; for on a Friday your hus- 
 band died, and on a Friday I first came to 
 see you, and Friday was market day." 
 
 Old opinions, however groundless, are not 
 often so easily overcome. The farmer has 
 let precious days pass by without profiting 
 by favourable weather, because he was 
 
 warned against them by his almanack, or 
 by tradition ; and for the same reason, mea- 
 sures which might have relieved and saved 
 a patient have been fatally procrastinated. 
 There were about thirty days in the Christian 
 year to which such malignant influences 
 were imputed, that the recovery of any per- 
 son who fell ill upon them was thought to 
 be almost impossible ; in any serious disease 
 how greatly must this persuasion have in- 
 creased the danger ! 
 
 More than half the days in the year are 
 unlucky in Madagascar : and the Ombiasses, 
 as the sort of bastard Mahomedan jugglers 
 in that great island are called, have made 
 the deluded people believe that any child 
 born on one of those days will, if it be 
 allowed to grow up, prove a parricide, be 
 addicted to every kind of wickedness, and 
 moreover be miserable throughout the whole 
 course of its life. The infant is always ex- 
 posed in consequence ; and unless some 
 humaner parents employ a slave or relation 
 to preserve it, and remove it for ever from 
 their knowledge, it is left for beasts, birds, 
 or reptiles to devour ! 
 
 The unfortunate days in Christendom, ac- 
 cording to the received superstition in dif- 
 ferent countries, were either a little more or 
 less than thirty, about a twelfth part of 
 the year; the fortunate were not quite so 
 many, all the rest are left, if the astrologers 
 had so pleased, in their natural uncertainty. 
 And how uncertain all were is acknowledged 
 in the oldest didactics upon this subject, 
 after what were then the most approved 
 rules had been given. 
 
 Ai?e u.\y r.u.i 
 Al'S' i)J.Ki 
 
 xf,{ii, evn ( 
 w^oi 3s r' ir 
 
 "AAAait ft,r,r 
 Tcitn iv$a.if 
 
 E,'Jij I 
 
 These are the days of which the careful heed 
 Each human enterprise will favouring speed: 
 Others there are, which intermediate fall, 
 Mark'd with no auspice, and unomen'd all : 
 And these will some, and those will others praise; 
 But few are vers'd in mysteries of days. 
 Now as a stepmother the day we find 
 Severe, and now as is a mother kind. 
 
 * HESIOO.
 
 204 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 O fortunate the man ! O blest is he. 
 
 Who skill'd in these, fulfils his ministry ! _ 
 
 He to whose note the auguries are giv'n, 
 
 No rite transgress'd, and void of blame to Heaven.* 
 
 The fixed days for good and evil were 
 said to have been disclosed by an angel to 
 Job. I know not whether it comes from 
 the Rabbinical mint of fables that Moses de- 
 termined upon Saturday for the Israelites' 
 Sabbath, because that day is governed by 
 Saturn, and Saturn being a malignant planet, 
 all manner of work that might be under- 
 taken on the Saturday might be expected 
 not to prosper. The Sabbatarians might 
 have found here an astrological argument 
 for keeping their sabbath on the same day 
 as the Jews. 
 
 Sunday, however, is popularly supposed in 
 France to be a propitious day for a Romish 
 sabbath, which is far better than a Sir- 
 Andrew- Agnewish one. II est reconnu, 
 says a Frenchman, whose testimony on such 
 a point is not invalidated by his madness, 
 que les jours de la semaine tie peuvent se res- 
 sembler, puisqu'ils content sous T influence de 
 differentes pianettes. Le soleil, 'qui preside 
 au dimanche, est cense nous procurer un beau 
 jour plus riant que les autres jours de la 
 semaine ; et voila aussi pourquoi on se reserve 
 cejour pour se livrer aux plaisirs et amuse- 
 mens honnetes. 
 
 The Jews say that the Sun always shines 
 on Wednesdays, because his birthday was 
 on Wednesday, and he keeps it in this man- 
 ner every week. In Feyjoo's time the 
 Spaniards had a proverbial saying, that no 
 Saturday is ever without sunshine ; nor 
 could they be disabused of tbis notion be- 
 cause in their country it is really a rare 
 thing to have a Saturday, or any other day, 
 in some part or other of which the sun is 
 not seen. But on the Wednesday in Passion 
 week they held that it always rains, because 
 on that day it was that Peter went out and 
 wept bitterly, and they think that it behoves 
 the heavens to weep, after this manner, as if 
 in commemoration of his tears. 
 
 The saints indeed have been supposed to 
 affect the weather so much upon their own 
 
 holydays, that a French Bishop is said to 
 have formed an ingenious project for the 
 benefit of a particular branch of agriculture, 
 by reforming a small part of the Calendar. 
 This prelate was the Bishop of Auxerre, 
 Francis D'Inteville, first of that name. He 
 had observed that for many years the vine- 
 yards had suffered severely on certain Saints' 
 days, by frost, hail, cold rains or blighting 
 winds, and he had come to the conclusion 
 that though the said Saints had their festi- 
 vals during the time when the sun is pass- 
 ing through Taurus, they were nevertheless 
 Saints gresleurs, geleurs^ et gasteurs du bour- 
 geon. 
 
 Now this Bishop loved good wine, comme 
 fait tout homme de bien ; and he conceived 
 that if these foul-weather Saints, who 
 seemed in this respect to act as if they had 
 enrolled themselves in aTemperance Society, 
 were to have their days changed, and be 
 calendared between Christmas Day and St. 
 Typhaines, they might hail, and freeze, and 
 bluster to their hearts content ; and if their 
 old festivals were assigned to new patrons, 
 who were supposed to have no dislike for 
 vineyards, all would go on well. St. George, 
 St. Mark, St. Philip and St. Vitalis were 
 some of the Saints who were to be provided 
 for at Christmas ; St. Christopher, St. Do- 
 minic, St. Laurence, and St. Magdalene, the 
 most illustrious of those who should have 
 been installed in their places, for on their 
 days tant s'en faut quon soit en danger de 
 gelee, que lors mestier au monde nest, qui 
 tant soit de requeste ; comme est des faiseurs 
 de friscades, et refraischisseurs de vin* 
 Those changes, however, in the Saints' ad- 
 ministration were not effected ; and it appears 
 by Rabelais' manner of relating the fact, 
 that the Bishop never got from the optative 
 to the potential mood. 
 
 Master Rabelais says that the Bishop 
 called the mother of the Three Kings St. 
 Typhaine ; it is certain that such a Saint 
 was made out of Le Sainte Epiphanie, and 
 that the Three Kings of Cologne were filiated 
 upon her. But whether or not this Prelate 
 
 ELTON. 
 
 * lavre in. c.zxxiii.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 205 
 
 were hi this respect as ignorant as his flock, 
 he is praised by writers of his own com- 
 munion for having by his vigilance and zeal 
 kept his diocese, as long as he lived, free 
 from the Lutheran pestilence. And he de- 
 serves to be praised by others for having 
 given a fine organ to his cathedral, and a 
 stone pulpit, which was scarcely surpassed 
 in beauty by any in the whole kingdom. 
 
 The Japanese, who are a wise people, 
 have fixed upon the five most unfortunate 
 days in the year for their five great festivals ; 
 and this they have done purposely, and pru- 
 dently, in order by this universal mirth to 
 divert and propitiate their Camis, or Deities ; 
 and also by their custom on those days of 
 wishing happiness to each other, to avert the 
 mishaps that might otherwise befal them. 
 They too are careful never to begin a 
 journey at an inauspicious time, and there- 
 fore in all their road and house books there 
 is a printed table, showing what days of the 
 month are unfortunate for this purpose : 
 they amount to four-and-twenty in the year. 
 The wise and experienced Astrologer, Abino 
 Seimei, who invented the table, was a per- 
 sonage endowed with divine wisdom and 
 the precious gift of prognosticating things to 
 come. It is to be presumed that he derived 
 this from his parentage, which was very re- 
 markable on the mother's side. Take, gentle 
 Reader, for thy contentment, what Light- 
 foot would have called no lean story. 
 
 Prince Abino Jassima was in the Temple 
 of Inari, who, being the God and the Pro- 
 tector of Foxes, ought to have a temple in 
 the Bishopric of Durham, and in Leicester- 
 shire, and wherever Foxes are preserved. 
 Foxes' lungs, it seems, were then as much 
 esteemed as a medicine by the Japanese, as 
 Fox-glove may be by European physicians ; 
 and a party of Courtiers were fox-hunting 
 at this time, in order to make use of the 
 lungs in a prescription. They were in full 
 cry after a young fox, when the poor crea- 
 ture ran into the temple, and instead of 
 looking for protection to the God Inari, took 
 shelter in Prince Jassima's bosom. The 
 Prince on this occasion behaved very well, 
 and the fox-hunters very ill, as it may be 
 
 feared most fox-hunters would do in similar 
 circumstances. They insisted upon his turn- 
 ing the fox out ; he protested that he would 
 commit no such crime, for a crime it would 
 have been in such a case ; they attempted to 
 take the creature by force, and Prince Jas- 
 sima behaved so bravely that he beat them 
 all, and set the fox at liberty. He had a 
 servant with him, but whether this servant 
 assisted him has not been recorded ; neither 
 is it stated that the Fox- God, Inari, took 
 any part in the defence of his own creature 
 and his princely votary ; though from what 
 followed it may be presumed that he was far 
 from being an unconcerned spectator. I 
 pass over the historical consequences which 
 make " the hunting of that day " more im- 
 portant in Japanese history, than that of 
 Chevy Chace is in our own. I pass them 
 over because they are not exactly pertinent 
 to this place. Suffice it to say, that King 
 Jassima, as he must now be called, revenged 
 his father's murder upon these very hunters, 
 and succeeded to his throne ; and then, after 
 his victory, the fox appeared, no longer in 
 vulpine form, but in the shape of a lady of 
 incomparable beauty, whom he took to wife, 
 and by whom he became the happy father 
 of our Astrologer, Abino Seimei. Gratitude 
 had moved this alopegyne, gynalopex, fox- 
 lady, or lady-fox, to love ; she told her love 
 indeed, but she never told her gratitude : 
 nor did King Jassima know, nor could he 
 possibly suspect, that his lovely bride had 
 been that very fox whose life he had with 
 so much generosity and courage preserved, 
 that very fox, I say, "another and the* 
 same ; " never did he imagine, nor never 
 could he have imagined this, till an extra- 
 ordinary change took place in his beautiful 
 and beloved wife. Her ears, her nose, her 
 claws and her tail began to grow, and by 
 degrees this wonderful creature became a 
 fox again ! My own opinion is, that she 
 must have been a daughter of the great 
 Fox-God Inari himself. 
 
 Abino Seimei, her son, proved to be, as 
 might have been expected, a cunning per- 
 sonage, in the old and good meaning of that 
 word. But as he inherited this cunning from
 
 206 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 his mysterious mother, he derived also an 
 equal share of benevolence from his kind- 
 hearted father, King Jassima: and there- 
 fore, after having calculated for the good of 
 mankind the table of unfortunate days, he, 
 for their farther good, composed an t/ita, or 
 couplet, of mystical words, by pronouncing 
 which the poor traveller who is necessitated 
 to begin a journey upon one of those days, 
 may avert all those evils, which, if he were 
 not preserved by such a spell, must in- 
 fallibly befal him. He did this for the 
 benefit of persons in humble life, who were 
 compelled at any time to go wherever their 
 lords and masters might send them. I know 
 not whether Lord Byron would have ven- 
 tured to set out on a Friday, after reciting 
 these words, if he had been made acquainted 
 with their value ; but here they are, ex- 
 pressed in our own characters, to gratify the 
 " curious in charms." 
 
 Sada Mejesi Tabicatz Fidori Josi Asijwa, 
 Omojitatz Figo Kitz Nito Sen. 
 
 CHAPTER XCII. 
 
 CONCERNING PETER HOPKINS AND THE IN- 
 FLUENCE OF THE MOON AND TIDES UPON 
 THE HUMAN BODY. A CHAPTER WHICH 
 SOME PERSONS MAT DEEM MORE CURIOUS 
 THAN DULL, AND OTHERS MORE DULL 
 THAN CURIOUS. 
 
 A man that travelleth to the most desirable home, hath 
 a habit of desire to it all the way ; but his present business 
 is his travel ; and horse, and company, and inns, and 
 ways, and weariness, &c., may take up more of his sensible 
 thoughts, and of his talk and action, than his home. 
 
 BAXTER. 
 
 FEW things in this world are useless, none 
 indeed but what are of man's own invention. 
 It was one of Oberlin's wise maxims that 
 nothing should be destroyed, nothing thrown 
 away, or wasted ; he knew that every kind 
 of refuse which will not serve to feed pigs, 
 may be made to feed both man and beast in 
 another way by serving for manure : per- 
 haps he learned this from the Chinese proverb, 
 
 that a wise man saves even the parings of 
 his nails and the clippings of his beard, for 
 this purpose. " To burn a hair," says Dar- 
 win, "or a straw, unnecessarily, diminishes 
 the sum of matter fit for quick nutrition, by 
 decomposing it nearly into its elements : and 
 should therefore give some compunction to 
 a mind of universal sympathy." Let not 
 this cant about universal sympathy nauseate 
 a reader of common sense, and make him 
 regard Darwin's opinion here with the con- 
 tempt which his affectation deserves. Every 
 thing may be of use to the farmer. And so 
 it is with knowledge ; there is none, however 
 vain in itself, and however little it may be 
 worth the pains of acquiring it, which may 
 not at some time or other be turned to ac- 
 count. 
 
 Peter Hopkins found that his acquaintance 
 with astrology was sometimes of good service 
 in his professional practice. In his days 
 most of the Almanacks contained Rules As- 
 trological showing under what aspects and 
 positions different modes of remedy were to 
 be administered, and different complexions 
 were to let blood. He had often to deal 
 with persons who believed in their Almanack 
 as implicitly as in their Bible, and who 
 studied this part of it with a more anxious 
 sense of its practical importance to them- 
 selves. When these notions were opposed 
 to the course of proceeding which the case 
 required, he could gain his point by talking 
 to them in their own language, and display- 
 ing, if it were called for, a knowledge of the 
 art which might have astonished the Alma- 
 nack-maker himself. If he had reasoned 
 with them upon any other ground, they 
 would have retained their own opinion, even 
 while they submitted to his authority ; and 
 would neither have had faith in him, nor in 
 his prescriptions. 
 
 Peter Hopkins would never listen to any 
 patient who proposed waiting for a lucky 
 day before he entered upon & prescribed 
 course of medicine. " Go by the moon as 
 much as you please," he would say ; " have 
 your hair cut, if you think best, while it 
 wexes, and cut your corns while it wanes ; 
 and put off any thing till a lucky day that
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 207 
 
 may as well be done on one day as another. 
 But the right day to be bled is when you 
 want bleeding ; the right day for taking 
 physic is when physic is necessary." 
 
 He was the better able to take this course, 
 because he himself belonged to the debate- 
 able land between credulity and unbelief. 
 Some one has said that the Devil's dubitative 
 is a negative, dubius in fide, infidelis est * ; 
 and there are cases, as in Othello's, in which, 
 from the infirmity of human nature, it is too 
 often seen that 
 
 to be once in doubt 
 
 Is once to be resolved. 
 
 There is, however, a state of mind, or to 
 speak more accurately, a way of thinking, in 
 which men reverse the Welshman's conclu- 
 sion in the old comedy, and instead of saying 
 " it may be, but it is very impossible," re- 
 solve within themselves that it is very im- 
 possible, but it may be. So it was in some 
 degree with Peter Hopkins ; his education, 
 his early pursuits, and his turn of mind, dis- 
 posed him to take part with what was then 
 the common opinion of common men, and 
 counterbalanced, if they did not, perhaps, a 
 little preponderate against the intelligence of 
 the age, and his own deliberate judgment, 
 if he had been called upon seriously to de- 
 clare it. He saw plainly that astrology had 
 been made a craft by means whereof knaves 
 practised upon fools ; but so had his own 
 profession ; and it no more followed as a 
 necessary consequence from the one ad- 
 mission that the heavenly bodies exercised 
 no direct influence upon the human frame, 
 than it did from the other that the art of 
 medicine was not beneficial to mankind. 
 
 In the high days of astrology, when such 
 an immediate influence was affirmed upon 
 the then undisputed authority of St. Augustin, 
 it was asked ho\v it happened that the pro- 
 fessors of this science so frequently deceived 
 others, and were deceived themselves ? The 
 answer was that too often, instead of con- 
 fining themselves within the legitimate limits 
 of the art, they enlarged their phylacteries 
 too much. Farther, that there were many 
 
 * SEXTUS PYTHAGORAS. 
 
 more fixed stars than were known to us, yet 
 these also must have their influence ; and 
 moreover that the most learned professors 
 differed upon some of the most important 
 points. Nevertheless, so many causes and 
 effects in the course of nature were so visibly 
 connected, that men, whether astrologers or 
 not, drew from them their own conclusions, 
 and presaged accordingly : Mirum non est, 
 .si his et similibus solertcr pensiculatis, non tarn 
 astrologi quam philosophi, medici, et longa 
 experientia edocti agricolce et nautce, quotidie 
 de futuris multa vera prcedicunt, etiam sine as- 
 trologies reguLis de morbis, de annona, deque 
 tempestatibus. 
 
 All persons in Peter Hopkins's days be- 
 lieved that change of weather may be 
 looked for at the change of the Moon ; and 
 all men, except a few philosophers, believe so 
 still, and all the philosophers in Europe could 
 not persuade an old sailor out of the belief. 
 And that the tides have as much influence 
 over the human body, in certain stages of 
 disease, as the moon has over the tides, is a 
 popular belief in many parts of the world. 
 The Spaniards think that all who die of 
 chronic diseases breathe their last during the 
 ebb.f Among the wonders of the Isle and 
 City of Cadiz, which the historian of that 
 city, Suares de Salazar, enumerates, one is, 
 according to P. Labat, that the sick never die 
 there while the tide is rising or at its height, 
 but always during the ebb : he restricts the 
 notion to the Isle of Leon, but implies that 
 the effect was there believed to take place in 
 diseases of any kind, acute as well as 
 chronic. " Him fever," says the Negro in 
 the West Indies, " shall go when the water 
 come low. Him alway come hot when the 
 tide high." 
 
 If the Negroes had ever heard the theory 
 of the tides which Herrera mentions, they 
 would readily believe it, and look upon it as 
 completely explaining the ground of their 
 assertion ; for according to that theory the 
 tides are caused by a fever of the sea, which 
 
 t Dame Quickly, in letting of FalstafPg death to 
 Bardolph, says : " "A parted even just between twelve 
 and one, e'eu at turning o' the tide." Henry V. Act II. 
 Scene iii.
 
 208 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 rages for six hours, and then intermits for 
 as many more. 
 
 But the effect of the tides upon the human 
 constitution in certain states is not a mere 
 vulgar opinion. Major Moor says that near 
 the tropics, especially in situations where 
 the tide of the sea has a great rise and 
 fall, scarcely any person, and certainly no one 
 affected with feverish or nervous symp- 
 toms, is exempted from extraordinary sen- 
 sations at the periods of spring tides. That 
 these are caused by the changes of the 
 moon he will not say, for he had never fully 
 convinced himself, however plausible the 
 theory, that the coincident phenomena of 
 spring tides, and full and change of the moon, 
 were cause and effect ; but at the conjunc- 
 tion and opposition, or what amounts to the 
 same, at the spring tides, these sensations are 
 periodically felt. There is an account of 
 one singular case in which the influence was 
 entirely lunar. When Mr. Gait was travel- 
 ling in the Morea, he fell in with a pea- 
 sant, evidently in an advanced stage of 
 dropsy, who told him, that his father had 
 died of a similar complaint, but differing 
 from his in this remarkable respect the 
 father's continued to grow regularly worse, 
 without any intervals of alleviation ; but at the 
 change of the moon the son felt comparatively 
 much easier. As the moon advanced to the 
 full, the swelling enlarged ; and as she 
 waned, it again lessened. Still, however, 
 though this alteration continued, the disease 
 was gaining ground. 
 
 " The moon," Mr. Gait observes, " has, or 
 is believed to have, much more to say in the 
 affairs of those parts, than with us. The 
 climate is more regular ; and if the air have 
 tides, like the ocean, of course their effects 
 are more perceptible." 
 
 In an early volume of the Philosophical 
 Transactions are some observations made by 
 Mr. Paschal on the motions of diseases, and 
 on the births and deaths of men and other 
 animals, in different parts of the day and 
 night. Having suspected, he says, that the 
 causes of the tides at sea exert their power 
 elsewhere, though the effect may not be so 
 sensibly perceived on the solid as on the 
 
 fluid parts of the globe, he divided, for trial 
 of this notion, the natural day into four 
 senaries of hours ; the first consisting of 
 three hours before the moon's southing, and 
 three after ; the second, of the six hours 
 following ; and the third and fourth con- 
 tained the two remaining quarters of the 
 natural day. Observing then the times of 
 birth and death, both in human and other 
 subjects, as many as came within the circle 
 of his knowledge, he found, he says, none 
 that were born or died a natural death in the 
 first and third senaries (which he called first 
 and second tides), but every one either in 
 the second or fourth senaries (which he 
 called the first and second ebbs). He then 
 made observations upon the motions of 
 diseases, other circumstances connected with 
 the human frame, alterations of the weather, 
 and such accounts as he could meet with of 
 earthquakes and other things, and he met 
 with nothing to prevent him from laying 
 down this as a maxim: that motion, 
 vigour, action, strength, &c., appear most 
 and do best, in the tiding senaries; and that 
 rest, relaxation, decay, dissolution, belong to 
 the ebbing ones. 
 
 This theorist must have been strongly 
 possessed with a favourite opinion, before he 
 could imagine that the deep subterranean 
 causes of earthquakes could in any degree 
 be affected by the tides. But that the same 
 influences which occasion the ebb and flow 
 of the ocean have an effect upon certain 
 diseases, is a conclusion to which Dr. 
 Pinckard came in the West Indies, and Dr. 
 Balfour in the East, from what they ob- 
 served in the course of their own practice, 
 and what they collected from the informa- 
 tion of others. " In Bengal," Dr. Balfour 
 says, " there is no room to doubt that the 
 human frame is affected by the influences 
 connected with the relative situations of the 
 sun and moon. In certain states of health 
 and vigour, this influence has not power to 
 show itself by any obvious effects, and in 
 such cases its existence is often not ac- 
 knowledged. But in certain states of debility 
 and disease it is able to manifest itself by 
 exciting febrile paroxysms. Such paroxysms
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 209 
 
 show themselves more frequently during the 
 period of the spring tides, and as these ad- 
 vance become more violent and obstinate, 
 and on the other hand tend no less in- 
 variably to subside and terminate during the 
 recess. 
 
 I have no doubt, says this practitioner, 
 that any physician who will carefully attend 
 to the diurnal and nocturnal returns of the 
 tides, and will constantly hold before him 
 the prevailing tendency of fevers to appear 
 at the commencement, and during the period 
 of the spring ; and to subside and terminate 
 at the commencement and during the period 
 of the recess, will soon obtain more infor- 
 mation respecting the phenomena of fevers, 
 and be able to form more just and certain 
 judgments and prognostics respecting every 
 event, than if we were to study the history 
 of medicine, as it is now written, for a 
 thousand years. There is no revolution or 
 change in the course of fevers that may not 
 be explained by these general principles in 
 a manner consistent with the laws of the 
 human constitution, and of the great system 
 of revolving bodies which unite together in 
 producing them. 
 
 Dr. Balfour spared no pains in collect- 
 in^ information to elucidate and confirm his 
 
 O 
 
 theory during the course of thirty years' 
 practice in India. He communicated upon 
 it with most of the European practitioners 
 in the Company's dominions ; and the then 
 Governor General, Lord Teignmouth, con- 
 sidered the subject as so important, that he 
 properly as well as liberally ordered the cor- 
 respondence and the treatise, in which its 
 results were embodied, to be printed and 
 circulated at the expense of the government. 
 The author drew up his scheme of an as- 
 tronomical ephemeris, for the purposes of 
 medicine and meteorology, and satisfied him- 
 self that he had " discovered the laws of 
 febrile paroxysms, and unfolded a history 
 and theory of fevers entirely new, consistent 
 with itself in every part, and with the other 
 appearances of nature, perfectly conform- 
 able to the laws discovered by the immortal 
 Newton, and capable of producing import- 
 ant improvements in medicine and meteor- 
 
 ology. He protested against objections to 
 his theory as if it were connected with the 
 wild and groundless delusions of astrology. 
 Yet the letter of his correspondent, Dr. 
 Helenus Scott, of Bombay, shows how na- 
 turally and inevitably it would be connected 
 with them in that country. " The influence 
 of the moon on the human body," says that 
 physician, " has been observed in this part 
 of India by every medical practitioner. It 
 is universally acknowledged by the doctors 
 of all colours, of all castes, and of all coun- 
 tries. The people are taught to believe it 
 in their infancy, and as they grow up, they 
 acknowledge it from experience. I suppose 
 that in the northerc latitudes this power of 
 the moon is far less sensible than in India. 
 Here we universally think that the state of 
 weakly and diseased bodies is much influ- 
 enced by its motions. Every full and change 
 increases the number of the patients of every 
 practitioner. That the human body is 
 affected in a remarkable manner by them I 
 am perfectly convinced, and that an atten- 
 tion to the power of the moon is highly 
 necessary to the medical practitioner in 
 India." 
 
 This passage tends to confirm, what, in- 
 deed, no judicious person can doubt, that 
 the application of astrology to medicine, 
 though it was soon perverted and debased 
 till it became a mere craft, originated in 
 actual observations of the connection be- 
 tween certain bodily affections, and certain 
 times and seasons. Many, if not most of 
 the mischievous systems in physics and 
 divinity have arisen from dim perceptions 
 or erroneous apprehensions of some import- 
 ant truth. And not a few have originated 
 in the common error of drawing bold and 
 hasty inferences from weak premises. Sai- 
 lors say, what they of all men have most 
 opportunities of observing, that the moon as 
 it rises clears the sky of clouds : a puesta del 
 sol, says a Spanish chronicler, parescio la 
 luna, e comio poco a poco todas las nuves. 
 The "learned and reverend" Dr. Goad, 
 sometime master of the Merchant Taylors' 
 School, published a work "of vast pains, 
 reading and many years experience," which
 
 210 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 he called " Astro- Meteorologia, or a Demon- 
 stration of the Influences of the Stars in the 
 alterations of the Air ; proving that there is 
 not an Earthquake, Comet, Parhelia, Halo, 
 Thunder-storm or Tempest, or any other 
 phenomena, but is referable to its particular 
 planetary aspect, as the sub-solar cause 
 thereof." 
 
 CHAPTER XCITI. 
 
 REMARKS OF AN IMPATIENT READER 
 ANTICIPATED AND ANSWERED. 
 
 Oil ftr>r,/AtYiviis cuxir' tl'vi 
 
 SOPHOCLES. 
 
 NOVEL readers are sometimes so impatient 
 to know how the story is to end, that they 
 look at the last chapter, and so escape, 
 should I say or forfeit that state of agi- 
 tating suspense in which it was the author 
 or authoress's endeavour to keep them till 
 they should arrive by a regular perusal at 
 the well-concealed catastrophe. It may be 
 apprehended that persons of this temper, 
 having in their composition much more of 
 Eve's curiosity than of Job's patience, will 
 regard with some displeasure a work like 
 the present, of which the conclusion is not 
 before them : and some, perhaps, may even 
 be so unreasonable as to complain that they 
 go through chapter after chapter without 
 making any progress in the story. " What 
 care the Public," says one of these readers, 
 (for every reader is a self-constituted repre- 
 sentative of that great invisible body) 
 " what do the Public care for Astrology and 
 Almanacks, and the Influence of the Tides 
 upon diseases, and Mademoiselle de Roches's 
 flea, and the Koran, and the Chronology of 
 this fellow's chapters, and Potteric Carr, 
 and the Corporation of Doncaster, and the 
 Theory of Signatures, and the Philosophy 
 of the Alchemists, and the Devil knows 
 what besides ! What have these things to 
 do with the subject of the book, and who 
 would ever have looked for them in a 
 Novel?" 
 
 "A Novel do you call it, ]\lr. Reader?" 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Author, what else should I call 
 it ? It has been reviewed as a Novel and 
 advertised as a Novel." 
 
 "I confess that in this very day's news- 
 paper it is advertised in company with four 
 new Novels ; the first in the list being 
 ' Warleigh, or the Fatal Oak,' a Legend of 
 Devon, by Mrs. Bray : the second, ' Dacre,' 
 edited by the Countess of Morley ; Mr. 
 James's ' Life and Adventures of John Mar- 
 ston Hall,' is the third : fourthly, comes the 
 dear name of ' The Doctor ; ' and last in the 
 list, ' The Court of Sigismund Augustus, or 
 Poland in the Seventeenth Century.' " 
 
 I present my compliments to each and all 
 of the authoresses and authors with whom I 
 find myself thus associated. At the same 
 time I beg leave to apologise for this appa- 
 rent intrusion into their company, and to 
 assure them that the honour which I have 
 thus received has been thrust upon me. 
 Dr. Stegman had four patients whose dis- 
 ease was that they saw themselves double : 
 " they perceived," says Mr. Turner, " another 
 self, exterior to themselves ! " I am not one 
 of Dr. Stegman's patients ; but I see myself 
 double in a certain sense, and in that sense 
 have another and distinct self, the one 
 incog, the other out of cog. Out of cog I 
 should be as willing to meet the novelist of 
 the Polish Court, as any other unknown 
 brother or sister of the quill. Out of cog I 
 should be glad to shake hands with Mr. 
 James, converse with him about Charle- 
 magne, and urge him to proceed with his 
 French biography. Out of cog I should 
 have much pleasure in making my bow to 
 Lady Morley or her editor. Out of cog I 
 should like to be introduced to Mrs. Bray 
 in her own lovely land of Devon, and see the 
 sweet innocent face of her humble friend 
 Mary Colling. But without a proper intro- 
 duction I should never think of presenting 
 myself to any of these persons ; and having 
 incog the same sense of propriety as out of 
 cog, I assure them that the manner in which 
 my one self has been associated with them is 
 not the act and deed of my other self, but 
 that of Messrs. Longman, Rees, Orinc,
 
 THE DOCTOR, 
 
 211 
 
 Brown, Green and Longman, my very wor- 
 thy and approved good publishers. 
 
 " Why, Mr. Author, you do not mean to 
 say that the book is not printed as a novel, 
 does not appear as one, and is not intended 
 to pass for one. Have you the face to deny 
 it?" 
 
 " Lecteur, man ami, la demande est bicn 
 faite sans doute, et bien apparente; mais la 
 response vous contentera, ou fai le sens mal- 
 gallefretu ! " 
 
 "Lecteur, mon ami! an Incog has no face. 
 But this I say in the face, or in all the faces, 
 of that Public which has more heads than a 
 Hindoo Divinity, that the character and con- 
 te'nts of the book were fairly, fully, carefully 
 and considerately denoted, that is to say, 
 notified or made known, in the title-page. 
 Turn to it, I entreat you, Sir! The first 
 thing which you cannot but notice, is, that 
 it is in motley. Ought you not to have 
 inferred, concerning the author, that in his 
 brain 
 
 he hath strange places cramm'd 
 With observation, the which he vents 
 In mangled forms.* 
 
 And if you could fail to perceive the con- 
 spicuous and capacious 
 
 which in its omnisignificance may promise 
 anything, and yet pledges the writer to 
 nothing ; and if you could also overlook the 
 mysterious monograph 
 
 your attention was invited to all this by a 
 sentence of Butler's on the opposite page, so 
 apposite that it seems as if he had written it 
 
 with a second-sight of the application thus 
 to be made of it : ' There is a kind of 
 physiognomy in the titles of books no less 
 than in the faces of men, by which a skilful 
 observer will as well know what to expect 
 from the one as the other.' This was the 
 remark of one whose wisdom can never be 
 obsolete ; and whose wit, though much of it 
 has become so, it will always be worth while 
 for an Englishman to study and to under- 
 stand. 
 
 "Mr.D'Israeli has said that 'the false idea 
 which a title conveys is alike prejudicial to 
 the author and the reader, and that titles 
 are generally too prodigal of their promises;' 
 but yet there is an error on the other hand 
 to be avoided, for if they say too little they 
 may fail of attracting notice. I bore in 
 mind what Baillet says upon this subject, to 
 which he has devoted a long chapter : le 
 litre d'un Livre doit etre son abrege, et il en 
 doit renfermer tout Fesprit, autant quil est 
 possible. 11 doit etre le centre de toutes les 
 paroles et de toiites les pensees du Livre ; de 
 telle sorte qrfon riy en puisse pas meme trou- 
 vcr une qui liy dit de la correspondence et du 
 rapport. From this rule there has been no 
 departure. Everything that is said of Peter 
 Hopkins relates to the Doctor prospectively, 
 because he was the Doctor's master : every 
 thing that may be said of, or from myself, 
 relates to the Doctor retrospectively, or 
 reflectively, because he, though in a different 
 sense, was mine : and everything that is said 
 about anything else relates to him collater- 
 ally, being either derivative or tributary, 
 either divergent from the main subject, or 
 convergent to its main end. 
 
 "But albeit I claim the privilege of motley, 
 and in right thereof 
 
 I must have liberty 
 Withal, as large a rliarter as the wind, 
 To blow on whom I please ; * 
 
 yet I have in no instance abused that 
 charter, nor visited any one too roughly. 
 Nor will I ever do against all the world 
 what John Kinsaider did, in unseemly de- 
 fiance, nor against the wind either; though 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE.
 
 212 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 it has been no maxim of mine, nor ever shall 
 be, to turn with the tide, or go with the 
 crowd, unless they are going my road, and 
 there is no other way that I can take to 
 escape the annoyance of their company." 
 
 " And is this any reason, Mr. Author, why 
 you should get on as slowly with the story 
 of your book, as the House of Commons 
 with the business of the nation, in the pre- 
 sent reformed Parliament, with Lord Al- 
 thorpe for its leader ? " 
 
 "Give me credit, Sir, for a temper as 
 imperturbably good as that which Lord 
 Althorpe presents, like a sevenfold shield 
 of lamb's wool, to cover him against all at- 
 tacks, and I will not complain of the dis- 
 paragement implied in your comparison." 
 
 "Your confounded good temper, Mr. 
 Author, seems to pride itself upon trying 
 experiments on the patience of your readers. 
 Here I am in the middle of the third volume, 
 and if any one asked me what the book is 
 about, it would be impossible for me to an- 
 swer the question. I have never been able 
 to guess at the end of one chapter what 
 was likely to be the subject of the next." 
 
 " Let me reply to that observation, Sir, 
 by an anecdote. A collector of scarce books 
 was one day showing me his small but 
 curious hoard ; ' Have you ever seen a copy 
 of this book ? ' he asked, with every rare 
 volume that he put into my hands : and 
 when my reply was that I had not, he 
 always rejoined with a look and tone of 
 triumphant delight, 'I should have been 
 exceedingly sorry if you had ! ' 
 
 "Let me tell you another anecdote, not 
 less to the purpose. A thorough-bred fox- 
 hunter found himself so much out of health, 
 a little before the season for his sport began, 
 that he took what was then thought a long 
 journey to consult a physician, and get some 
 advice which he hoped would put him into a 
 condition for taking the field. Upon his 
 return his friends asked him what the Doc- 
 tor had said, ' Why,' said the Squire, ' he 
 told me that I've got a dyspepsy : I don't 
 knew what that is : but it's some damn'd 
 thing or other I suppose ! ' My good Sir, 
 however much at a loss you may be to guess 
 
 what is coming in the next chapter, you can 
 have no apprehension that it may turn out 
 anything like what he, with too much rea- 
 son, supposed a dyspepsy to be. 
 
 " Lecteur, mon ami, I have given you the 
 advantage of a motto from Sophocles, and 
 were it as apposite to me, as it seems appli- 
 cable when coming from you, I might con- 
 tent myself with replying to it in a couplet 
 of the honest old wine-bibbing, Water- 
 poet : 
 
 That man may well be called an idle mome 
 That mocks the Cock because he wears a comb. 
 
 But no one who knows a hawk from a hern- 
 shaw, or a sheep's head from a carrot, or the 
 Lord Chancellor Brougham, in his wig and 
 robes, from a Guy Vaux on the fifth of Novem- 
 ber, can be so mistaken in judgment as to say 
 that I make use of many words in making 
 nothing understood ; nor as to think me, 
 
 a>0;*T0v axjioira/av, ctiiSa.'boffTiU.or, 
 
 lyovr' AX&UPM, cutfevrif, ajriAa/rov fftou.x, 
 
 T(/.a/.-/;-5v, %6U:^cfxx-J.cffr.u,otx.* 
 
 " Any subject is inexhaustible if it be 
 fully treated of; that is, if it be treated 
 doctrinally and practically, analytically 
 and synthetically, historically and morally, 
 critically, popularly and eloquently, philo- 
 sophically, exegetically and aesthetically, 
 logically, neologically, etymologically, ar- 
 chaiologically, Daniologtcally and Doveo- 
 logically, which is to say, summing up all in 
 one, Doctorologically. 
 
 "Now, my good Reader, whether I handle 
 my subject in any of these ways, or in any 
 other legitimate way, this is certain, that I 
 never handle it as a cow does a musket ; and 
 that I have never wandered from it, not 
 even when you have drawn me into a Tattle- 
 de-Moy." 
 
 "Auctor incomparabilis, what is a Tattle- 
 de-Moy ? " 
 
 " Lecteur, mon ami, you shall now know 
 what to expect in the next chapter, for I 
 will tell you there what a Tattle- de-Moy 
 is." 
 
 ARISTOPHANES.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 213 
 
 CHAPTER XCIV. 
 
 THE AUTHOR DISCOVERS CERTAIN MUSICAL 
 CORRESPONDENCIES TO THESE HIS LUCU- 
 BRATIONS. 
 
 And music mild I learn'd that tells 
 Tune, time, and measure of the song. 
 
 HIGGINS. 
 
 A TATTLE-DE-MOT, reader, was " a new- 
 fashioned thing" in the year of our Lord 
 1676, " much like a Seraband, only it had in 
 it more of conceit and of humour : and it 
 might supply the place of a seraband at the 
 end of a suit of lessons at any time." That 
 simple-hearted, and therefore happy old 
 man, Thomas Mace, invented it himself, be- 
 cause he would be a little modish, he said; 
 and he called it a Tattle-de-Moy, " because 
 it tattles, and seems to speak those very 
 words or syllables. Its humour," said he, 
 " is toyish, jocund, harmless and pleasant; 
 and as if it were one playing with, or toss- 
 ing, a ball up and down ; yet it seems to 
 have a very solemn countenance, and like 
 unto one of a sober and innocent condition, 
 or disposition ; not antic, apish, or wild." 
 
 If indeed the gift of prophecy were im- 
 parted, or imputed to musicians, as it has 
 sometimes been to poets, Thomas Mace 
 might be thought to have unwittingly fore- 
 shown certain characteristics of the unique 
 opus which is now before the reader : so 
 nearly has he described them, when instruct- 
 ing his pupils how to give right and proper 
 names to all lessons they might meet with. 
 
 " There are, first, Preludes ; then, second- 
 ly, Fancies and Voluntaries ; thirdly, Pa- 
 vines; fourthly, Allmaines ; fifthly, Airs; 
 sixthly, Galliards ; seventhly, Corantoes ; 
 eighthly, Serabands ; ninthly, Tattle-de- 
 Moys ; tenthly, Chichonas ; eleventhly, Toys 
 or Jiggs ; twelfthly, Common Tunes ; and, 
 lastly, Grounds, with Divisions upon them. 
 
 " The Prelude is commonly a piece of 
 confused, wild, shapeless kind of intricate 
 play (as most use it), in which no perfect 
 form, shape, or uniformity, can be per- 
 ceived ; but a random business, pottering 
 
 and grooping, up and down, from one stop, 
 or key, to another ; and generally so per- 
 formed, to make trial, whether the instru- 
 ment be well in tune or not ; by which 
 doing, after they have completed their 
 tuning, they will (if they be masters) fall 
 into some kind of voluntary or fancical play 
 more intelligible ; which (if he be a master 
 able) is a way whereby he may more fully 
 and plainly show his excellency and ability, 
 than by any other kind of undertaking ; and 
 has an unlimited and unbounded liberty, in 
 which he may make use of the forms and 
 shapes of all the rest." 
 
 Here the quasi-prophetic lutanist may 
 seem to have described the ante-initial 
 chapters of this opus, and those other pieces 
 which precede the beginning thereof, and 
 resemble 
 
 A lively prelude, fashioning the way 
 In which the voice shall wander.* 
 
 For though a censorious reader will pick 
 out such expressions only as may be applied 
 with a malign meaning ; yet in what he may 
 consider confused and shapeless, and call 
 pottering and grooping, the competent ob- 
 server will recognise the hand of a master, 
 trying his instrument and tuning it ; and 
 then passing into a voluntary whereby he 
 approves, his skill, and foreshows the spirit 
 of his performance. 
 
 The Pavines, Master Mace tells us, are 
 lessons of two, three, or four strains, very 
 grave and solemn ; full of art and pro- 
 fundity, but seldom used in " these our light 
 days," as in many respects he might well 
 call the days of King Charles the Second. 
 Here he characterises our graver Chapters, 
 which are in strains so deep, so soothing, 
 and so solemn withal, that if such a Pavine 
 had been played in the hall of the palace at 
 Aix, when King Charlemagne asked the 
 Archbishop to dance, the invitation could 
 not have been deemed indecorous. 
 
 Allmaines are very airy and lively, and 
 generally ha common or plain tune. Airs 
 differ from them only in being usually 
 shorter, and of a more rapid and nimble 
 
 KEATS.
 
 214 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 performance. With many of these have 
 the readers of the Doctor been amused. 
 
 Galliards, being grave and sober, are per- 
 formed in a slow and large triple time. 
 Some of the chapters relating to the history 
 of Doncaster come under this description : 
 especially that concerning its Corporation, 
 which may be called a Galliard par excel- 
 lence. 
 
 The Corantoes are of a shorter cut, and 
 of a quicker triple time, full of sprightful- 
 ness and vigour, lively, brisk, and cheerful : 
 the Serabands of the shortest triple time, 
 and more toyish and light than the Coran- 
 toes. There are of both kinds in these 
 volumes, and skilfully are they alternated 
 with the Pavines : 
 
 Now the musician 
 
 Hovers with nimble stick o'er squeaking crowd 
 Tickling the dried guts of a mewing cat * ; 
 
 and anon a strain is heard 
 
 Not wanting power to mitigate and swage, 
 With solemn touches, troubled thoughts, and chase 
 Anguish and doubt and fear and sorrow and pain 
 From mortal or immortal minds. t 
 
 And there are Chichonas also, which con- 
 sist of a few conceited notes in a grave kind 
 of humour ; these are the Chapters which 
 the Honourable Fastidious Feeblewit con- 
 demns as being in bad taste, and which 
 Lord Makemotion Ganderman pronounces 
 poor stuff; but at which Yorickson smiles, 
 Macswift's countenance brightens, and Fitz- 
 rabelais laughs outright. 
 
 No prophecies can be^xpected to go upon 
 all fours; and nothing in this opus correV 
 sponds to Master Mace's Toys, or Jiggs, 
 which are " light, squibbis* things, only fit 
 for fantastical and easy light-headed peo- 
 ple; " nor to his common Tunes. 
 
 Last in his enumeration is the Ground : 
 this, he says, is " a set number of slow notes, 
 very grave and stately; which, after it is 
 expressed once or twice very plainly, then 
 he that hath good brains and a good hand, 
 undertakes to play several divisions upon it, 
 time after time, till he has shewed his 
 bravery, both of invention and execution." 
 
 * HARSTON. 
 
 t MILTON. 
 
 My worthy friend Dr. Dense can need no 
 hint to make him perceive how happily this 
 applies to the ground of the present work, 
 and the manner of treating it. And if Mr. 
 Dulman disputes the application, it can only 
 be because he is determined not to see it. 
 All his family are remarkable for obstinacy. 
 And ere taking leave for awhile of the 
 good old lutanist, I invite the serious and 
 curious to another Pavine among the stars. 
 
 CHAPTER XCV. 
 
 WHEREIN MENTION 18 MADE OT LORD BYRON, 
 RONSARD, RABBI KAPOL AND CO. IT IS 
 SUGGESTED THAT A MODE OF HEADING 
 THE STARS HAS BEEN APPLIED TO THE 
 RECOVERY OF OBLITERATED ROMAN IN- 
 SCRIPTIONS ; AND IT IS SHOWN THAT A 
 MATHEMATICIAN MAY REASON MATHEMA- 
 TICALLY, AND YET LIKE A FOOL. 
 
 Thus may ye behold 
 This man is very bold, 
 And in his learning old 
 Intendeth for to sit. 
 I blame him not a whit ; 
 For it would vex his wit, 
 And clean against his earning 
 To follow such learning 
 As now-a-days is taught. 
 
 DOCTOUR DOUBLE-ALE. 
 
 LORD BYRON calls the Stars the poetry of 
 heaven, having perhaps in mind Ben Jon- 
 son's expression concerning bell-ringing. 
 Ronsard calls them the characters of the 
 
 sky : 
 
 Alors que Vesper vient embrunir nos yeuz. 
 Attache dans le cielje contemple lei deux. 
 En quiltieu nous escrit, en notes non obscures, 
 Les sons et les destins de toutes creatures. 
 Car ifo, en desdaignant (commefont les humains) 
 D'avfyr encre et papier et plume entre les mains, 
 Par les aitres du del, qui sont ses caracteres, 
 Les eposes nous predit et bonnes et contraires. 
 Maisks hommes, chargez de terres et du trespas, 
 Mepritent tel escrit, et ne le lisent pas. 
 
 The great French poet of his age probably 
 did not know that what he thus said was 
 actually believed by the Cabalists. Accord- 
 ing to them the ancient Hebrews repre- 
 sented the stars, severally and collectively, 
 by the letters of their alphabet ; to read the
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 215 
 
 stars, therefore, was more than a metapho- 
 rical expression with them. And an astral 
 alphabet for genethliacal purposes was pub- 
 lished near the close of the fifteenth century, 
 at Cracow, by Rabbi Kapol Ben Samuel, in 
 a ^ork entitled " The Profundity of Pro- 
 fundities." 
 
 But as this would rest upon an insecure 
 foundation, for who could be assured that 
 the alphabet had been accurately made out? 
 it has been argued that the Heavens are 
 repeatedly in the Scriptures called a Book, 
 whence it is to be inferred that they contain 
 legible characters : that the first verse of the 
 first chapter of Genesis ought to be trans- 
 lated, " In the beginning God created the 
 letter, or character of the Heavens ;" and 
 that in the nineteenth Psalm we should read 
 " their line," instead of " their sound has 
 gone forth into all lands," this referring to 
 their arrangement in the firmament like 
 letters upon a roll of parchment. Jews, 
 Pktonists and Fathers of the Church, are 
 shown to have believed in this celestial 
 writing. And there can be no question but 
 that both the language and the characters 
 must be Hebrew, that being the original 
 speech, and those the original characters, 
 and both divinely communicated to man, 
 not of human invention. But single stars 
 are not to be read as letters, as in the Astral 
 Alphabet. This may be a convenient mode 
 of noting them in astronomical observa- 
 tions ; the elements of this celestial science 
 are more recondite in proportion as the 
 science itself is more mysterious. An un- 
 derstanding eye may distinguish that the 
 stars in their groups form Hebrew letters, 
 instead of those imaginary shapes w^ich are 
 called the signs of the Zodiac. 
 
 But as the Stars appear to us only as dots 
 of light, much skill and sagacity are required 
 for discovering how they combine into the 
 complex forms of the Hebrew alphabet. 
 The astral scholar reads them as antiquaries 
 have made out inscriptions upon Roman 
 buildings by the marks of the nails, when 
 the letters themselves had been torn away 
 by rapacious hands for the sake of the metal. 
 Indeed it is not unlikely that the Abbe Bar- 
 
 thelemi took the hint from the curiously 
 credulous work of his countryman, Gaffarel, 
 who has given examples of this celestial 
 writing from the Rabbis Kapol, Chomer and 
 Abiudan. In these examples the stars are 
 represented by white spots upon the black 
 lines of the Hebrew letter. The Abbe, when 
 he writes upon this subject to Count Caylus, 
 seems not to have known that Peiresc had 
 restored ancient inscriptions by the same 
 means ; if, however, he followed the example 
 of Peiresc without choosing to mention his 
 name, that omni-erudite man himself is likely 
 to have seen the books from whence Gaffarel 
 derived his knowledge. 
 
 There is yet another difficulty ; even the 
 book of Heaven is not stereotyped : its types 
 are continually changing with the motion of 
 the heavenly bodies, and changes of still 
 greater importance are made by the appear- 
 ance of new stars. 
 
 One important rule is to be observed in 
 perusing this great stelliscript. He who 
 desires to learn what good they prefigure, 
 must read them from AVest to East ; but if 
 he would be forewarned of evil, he must read 
 from North to West; in either case be- 
 ginning with the stars that are most vertical 
 to him. For the first part of this rule, no 
 better reason has been assigned than the 
 conjectural one, that there is a propriety in 
 it, the free and natural motion of the stars 
 being from West to East ; but for the latter 
 part a sufficient cause is found in the words 
 of the Prophet Jeremiah : septentrione pan- 
 detur malum : " Out of the North evil shall 
 break forth." 
 
 Dionyse Settl was persuaded that Martin 
 Frobisher, being a Yorkshire-man, had, by 
 his voyage in search of a north-west passage, 
 repelled the rehearsal of those opprobrious 
 words ; not only he, but many worthy sub- 
 jects more, as well as the said Dionyse, who 
 was in the voyage himself, being "York- 
 shire too." 
 
 But why should evil come from the North ? 
 " I conceive," says Gaffarel, " it would stand 
 with sound philosophy to answer, by reason 
 of the darkness and gloominess of the air of 
 those parts, caused by the great distance of
 
 216 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 the Sun; and also by reason of the Evil 
 Spirits which inhabit dark places." This 
 reason becomes stronger when it is con- 
 sidered that the word which in the Vulgate 
 is rendered pandetur, may also be rendered 
 depingetur, so that the verse might be trans- 
 lated, " all evils shall be described (or 
 written) from the North;" and if written, 
 then certainly to be read from that direction. 
 This theory of what Southey has called 
 " the language of the lights of Heaven," is 
 Jewish. Abu Almasar (nominally well 
 known as Albumazar, by which name the 
 knaves called him who knew nothing of him 
 or his history), derived all religions from 
 the Planets. The Chaldean, he said, was 
 produced by the conjunction of Jupiter with 
 Mars; the Egyptian, by Jupiter with the 
 Sun; Judaism, by Jupiter with Saturn; Chris- 
 tianity, by Jupiter with Mercury ; Mahom- 
 medanism, by Jupiter with Venus. And in 
 the year 1460, when, according to his cal- 
 culation, the conjunction of Jupiter and 
 Mercury would again occur, he predicted 
 that the Christian religion would receive its 
 death blow, and the religion of Antichrist 
 begin. Pursuing these fancies, others have 
 asserted that the reason why the Jewish 
 nation always has been miserable, and always 
 must be so, is because their religion was 
 formed under the influences of Saturn : 
 
 Spiteful and cold, an old man melancholy, 
 With bent and yellow forehead, he is Saturn.* 
 
 A malevolent planet he is, and also an un- 
 fortunate one, and it was he that 
 
 With lead-coloured shine lighting it into life,* 
 
 threw a tincture of severity and moroseness 
 over the religion of the Jews ; he it was that 
 made them obstinate and covetous, and their 
 Sabbath accordingly is his day. In like 
 manner the character of the Turks and their 
 day of rest have been determined by the 
 planet Venus, which is the star of their re- 
 ligion. And as Christianity began under 
 the influence of the Sun, Sunday is the 
 Christian Sabbath; and the visible head of 
 the Christian Church has his seat in Eome, 
 
 * WAILENSTEIN. 
 
 which is a solar city, its foundations having 
 been laid when the Sun was in Leo, his 
 proper House. Farther proof of this in- 
 fluence is, that the Cardinals wear red, which 
 is a solar colour. 
 - Dr. Jenkin, in his Discourses upon the 
 Reasonableness and Certainty of the Chris- 
 tian Religion, takes into his consideration 
 the opinion of those persons who thought 
 that the stars would shine to little purpose 
 unless there were other habitable worlds 
 besides this earth whereon we dwell. One of 
 the uses for which they serve he supposes to 
 be this, that in all ages the wits of many 
 men whose curiosity might otherwise be 
 very ill employed have been busied in con- 
 sidering their end and nature, and calculat- 
 ing their distances and motions : a whim- 
 sical argument, in advancing which he seems 
 to have forgotten the mischievous purposes 
 to which so much of the wit which had taken 
 this direction had been applied. 
 
 Yet these fancies of the wildest astrolo- 
 gers are not more absurd than the grave 
 proposition of John Craig, whose " Theolo- 
 gies Christianas Principia Mathematica" 
 were published in London at the close of 
 the 17th century. He asserted, and pre- 
 tended to show by mathematical calculations, 
 that the probability of the truth of the 
 Gospel history was as strong at that time, as 
 it would have been in the days of our 
 Saviour himself, to a person who should have 
 heard it related by twenty-eight disciples ; 
 but that, upon the same mathematical 
 grounds, the probability will entirely cease 
 by the year 3150 ; there would then be no 
 more faith on earth, and, consequently, ac- 
 cording to St. Luke, the world would then 
 be at an end, and the Son of Man would 
 come to judge the quick and the dead. 
 
 Bayle always ridiculed that sort of evi- 
 dence which is called mathematical demon- 
 stration.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 217 
 
 CHAPTER XCVI. 
 
 A MUSICIAN'S WISH EXCITED BY HERSCHEL'S 
 TELESCOPE. SYMPATHY BETWEEN PETER 
 HOPKINS AND HIS PUPIL. INDIFFEHENTISM 
 USEFUL IN ORDINARY POLITICS, BUT DAN- 
 GEROUS IN RELIGION. 
 
 Noi intendiamo parlare alle cose che ulili sono alia 
 umana vi'a, quanta per nostro intendimento sipotrti in 
 guesta parts comprendere ; e sopra queUe parlicelle che 
 detlo avemo di comporre. 
 
 BlJSONE DA GUBOIO. 
 
 WHEN Miller talked of his friend Herschel's 
 good fortune, and of his astronomical disco- 
 veries, and of his sister, Miss Caroline Her- 
 schel, who, while in his absence she could 
 get possession of his twenty-feet reflector, 
 amused herself with sweeping the sky, and 
 searching for comets in the neighbourhood 
 of the sun, the warm-hearted and musical- 
 minded man used to wish that the science of 
 acoustics had been advanced in the same de- 
 gree as that of optics, and that his old friend, 
 when he gave up music as a profession, had 
 still retained it as a pursuit ; for, had he 
 constructed auditory tubes of proportionate 
 power and magnitude to his great telescope, 
 " who knows," said Miller, " but we might 
 have been enabled to hear the music of the 
 spheres ! " Pythagoras used to listen to that 
 music, when he retired into the depths of 
 his own being ; and, according to his dis- 
 ciples, to him alone of all mortals has it been 
 audible. But philosophers in modern times 
 have thought that the existence of this music 
 is more than an enthusiast's dream, a poet's 
 fiction, or an impostor's fable. They say it 
 may be inferred as probable from some of 
 Newton's discoveries ; and as a consequence 
 of that principle of harmony which in some 
 parts of the system of nature is so clearly 
 shown, and in others so mysteriously in- 
 dicated. 
 
 As for the Doctor, when Miller talked to 
 him of Miss Herschel's performances in sky- 
 sweeping and comet-hunting, it reminded 
 him of the nursery song, and he quoted the 
 lines, 
 
 Old woman, old woman, whither so high ? 
 I'm going to sweep cobwebs off the sky, 
 And I shall be back again by and by : 
 
 not meaning, however, any disrespect to the 
 lady, nor knowing any thing of her age. 
 
 Herschel would have opened no new field 
 of speculation for Peter Hopkins, if Hopkins 
 had lived till that day ; but he would have 
 eradicated the last remains of his lurking 
 belief in astrology, by showing how little 
 those who pretended to read the stars had 
 seen or known of them. The old man would 
 have parted with it easily, though he de- 
 lighted in obsolete knowledge, and took as 
 much interest in making himself acquainted 
 with the freaks of the human mind, as with 
 the maladies of the human frame. He 
 thought that they belonged to the same 
 study ; and the affection which he had so 
 soon contracted for his pupil was in no small 
 degree occasioned by his perceiving in him 
 a kindred disposition. Mr. Danby says, 
 " there is perhaps more of instinct in our feel- 
 ings than we are aware of, even in our esteem 
 of each other ; " it is one of the many wise 
 remarks of a thoughtful man. 
 
 This intellectual sympathy contributed 
 much to the happiness of both, and no little 
 to the intellectual progress of the younger 
 party. But Hopkins's peculiar humour had 
 rendered him indifferent upon some points 
 of great moment. It had served as a pro- 
 phylactic against all political endemics, and 
 this had been a comfortable security for him 
 in times when such disorders were frequent 
 and violent ; and when, though far less ma- 
 lignant than those of the present age, they 
 were far more dangerous, in individual cases. 
 The reader may perhaps remember (and if 
 not, he is now reminded of it,) how, when 
 he was first introduced to Peter Hopkins, it 
 was said that any king would have had in 
 him a quiet subject, and any church a con- 
 tented conformist. He troubled himself with 
 no disputations in religion, and was troubled 
 with no doubts, but believed what he was 
 taught to believe, because he had been taught 
 to believe it ; and owing to the same facility 
 of mind, under any change of dynasty, or 
 revolution of government that could have 
 befallen, he would have obeyed the ruling 
 power. Such would always be the politics 
 of the many, if they were let alone ; and
 
 218 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 such would always be their religion. As 
 regards the civil point this is the best con- 
 dition in which a people can be, both for 
 themselves and their rulers ; and if the laws 
 be good and well administered, the form of 
 government is good so far as it is causative 
 of those effects, and so far as it is not causa- 
 tive, it is a trifle for which none but fools 
 would contest. The proper end of all govern- 
 ment being the general good, provided that 
 good be attained it is infinitesiinally insig- 
 nificant by what means. That it can be 
 equally attained under any form is not 
 asserted here. The argument from the ana- 
 logy of nature which might seem to favour 
 such an assertion cannot be maintained. 
 The Bees have their monarchy, and the Ants 
 their republic ; but when we are told to go 
 to the Ant and the Bee, and consider their 
 ways, it is not that we should borrow from 
 them formic laws or apiarian policy. Under 
 the worst scheme of government the desired 
 end would be in a great degree attainable, 
 if the people were trained up, as they ought 
 to be, in the knowledge of their Christian 
 duties ; and unless they are so trained, it 
 must ever be very imperfectly attained under 
 the best. 
 
 Forms of government alone deserving to 
 be so called, of whatever kind, are here in- 
 tended, not those of savage or barbarous 
 times and countries. Indeed it is only in 
 advanced stages of society that men are left 
 sufficiently to themselves to become reason- 
 ably contented ; and then they may be ex- 
 pected, like our friend Peter Hopkins, to 
 be better subjects than patriots. It is de- 
 sirable that they should be so : for good 
 subjects promote the public good at all 
 times, and it is only in evil times that pa- 
 triots are wanted, such times as are usually 
 brought on by rash, or profligate and wicked 
 men, who assume the name. 
 
 From this political plasticity, in his days 
 and in his station, no harm could arise either 
 to himself or others. But the same tem- 
 perament in religion, though doubtless it 
 may reach the degree of saving faith, can 
 hardly consist with an active and imaginative 
 mind. It was fortunate, therefore, for the 
 
 Doctor, that he found a religious friend in 
 Mr. Bacon. 'While he was at Leyden his 
 position in this respect had not been favour- 
 able. Between the Dutch language and the 
 Burgemeester's daughter, St. Peter's Kirk 
 had not been a scene of much devotion for 
 him. Perhaps many Churches in his own 
 Country might have produced no better 
 effect upon him at that time of life ; but the 
 loose opinions which Bayle had scattered 
 were then afloat in Holland, and even these 
 were less dangerous to a disposition such as 
 his, than the fierce Calvinistic tenets by 
 which they were opposed. The former might 
 have beguiled him into scepticism, the latter 
 might have driven him into unbelief, if the 
 necessary attention to his professional stu- 
 dies, and an appetite for general knowledge, 
 which found full employment for all leisure 
 hours, had not happily prevented him from 
 entering without a guide upon a field of 
 inquiry, where he would either have been 
 entangled among thorns, or beset with snares 
 and pitfalls. 
 
 True indeed it is that nothing but the 
 most injurious and inevitable circumstances 
 could have corrupted his natural piety, for 
 it had been fostered in him by his father's 
 example, and by those domestic lessons 
 which make upon us the deepest and most 
 enduring impressions. But he was not 
 armed, as it behoved him to be, against the 
 errors of the age, neither those which like 
 the pestilence walked in noon-day, nor those 
 which did their work insidiously and in 
 darkness. 
 
 Methodism was then in its rampant stage; 
 the founders themselves had not yet sobered 
 down ; and their followers, though more de- 
 cent than the primitive Quakers, and far 
 less offensive in their operations, ran, never- 
 theless, into extravagancies which made ill- 
 judging magistrates slow in protecting them 
 against the insults and outrages of the rab- 
 ble. The Dissenters were more engaged in 
 controversy amongst themselves than with 
 the Establishment ; their old leaven had at 
 that time no mass whereon to work, but it 
 was carefully preserved. The Nonjurors, of 
 all sects (if they may be called a sect), the
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 219 
 
 most respectable in their origin, were almost 
 extinct. The Roman Catholics were quiet, 
 in fear of the laws, no toleration being 
 then professed for a Church which pro- 
 claimed, and everywhere acted upon, the 
 principle of absolute intolerance ; but there 
 were few populous parts of the kingdom in 
 which there was not some secular priest, or 
 some regular, not indeed 
 
 Black, white, and grey, with all their trumpery, 
 
 for neither the uniform nor the trumpery 
 were allowed, but Monk, or Friar, or 
 Jesuit, in lay-clothing, employed in secretly 
 administering to the then decreasing num- 
 bers of their own communion, and recruiting 
 them whenever they safely could ; but more 
 generally venturing no farther than to in- 
 sinuate doubts, and unsettle the belief, of 
 unwary and unlearned members of the es- 
 tablished religion, for this could always be 
 done with impunity. And in this they aided, 
 and were aided by, those who in that age 
 were known by the name, which they had 
 arrogated to themselves, of Free-thinkers. 
 
 There was among the higher classes in 
 those days a fashion of infidelity, imported 
 from France : Shaftesbury and " the can- 
 kered Bolingbroke " (as Sir Robert Walpole 
 used justly to call that profligate statesman) 
 were beholden for their reputation more to 
 this, than to any solidity of talents, or grace 
 of style. It had made much less way in 
 middle life than in the higher and lower 
 ranks ; for men in middle life, being 
 generally trained up when children in the 
 way they should go, were less likely to de- 
 part from it than those who were either 
 above or below them in station ; indeed they 
 were not exposed to the same dangers. The 
 principles which were veiled, but not dis- 
 guised, by Lord Chesterfield and Horace 
 Walpole, and exposed in their nakedness by 
 Wilkes and his blasphemous associates at 
 their orgies, were discussed in the Robin 
 Hood Society, by men who were upon the 
 same level with the holders-forth at the 
 Rotunda in our own times, but who differed 
 from them in these respects, that they neither 
 
 made a trading profession of impiety, i.or 
 ventured into the treason-line. 
 
 Any man may graduate in the schools of 
 Irreligion and Mispolicy, if he have a glib 
 tongue and a brazen forehead; with these 
 qualities, and a small portion of that talent 
 which is produceable on demand, he may 
 take a wrangler's degree. Such men were 
 often met with in the common walks of so- 
 ciety, before they became audacious enough 
 to show themselves upon the public theatre, 
 and aspire to from a party in the state. 
 Peter Hopkins could listen to them just 
 with as much indifference as he did to a 
 Jacobite, a Nonjuror, or one to whom the 
 memory of Oliver and the saints in buff was 
 precious. The Doctor, before he happily 
 became acquainted with Mr. Bacon, held 
 his peace when in the presence of such peo- 
 ple, but from a different cause : for though 
 his heart rose against their discourse, and 
 he had an instinctive assurance that it was 
 equally pernicious and false, he had not so 
 stored himself with needful knowledge as to 
 be able to confute the common-places of an 
 infidel propagandist. But it has an ill effect 
 upon others, when a person of sounder judg- 
 ment and more acquirements than them- 
 selves, remains silent in the company of 
 such talkers ; for, from whatever motive his 
 silence may proceed, it is likely to be consi- 
 dered, both by the assailants of the truth, 
 and by the listeners, as an admission of his 
 inability to maintain the better cause. Great 
 evil has arisen to individuals, and to the 
 community, from allowing scoffers to go 
 unrebuked in private life ; and fallacies and 
 falsehoods to pass uncontradicted and un- 
 exposed in those channels through which 
 poison is conveyed to the public mind.
 
 220 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 CHAPTER XCVIL 
 
 MR. BACON'S PARSONAGE. CHRISTIAN RE- 
 SIGNATION. TIME AND CHANGE. WIJLK.IE 
 AND THE MONK IN THE ESCUBIAL. 
 
 The idea of her life shall sweetly creep 
 
 Into his study of imagination ; 
 
 And every lovely organ of her life 
 
 Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, 
 
 More moving delicate, and full of life, 
 
 Into the eye and prospect of his soul, 
 
 Than when she lived indeed. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 IN a Scotch village the Manse is sometimes 
 the only good house, and generally it is the 
 best ; almost, indeed, what in old times the 
 Mansion used to be in an English one. In 
 Mr. Bacon's parish, the vicarage, though 
 humble as the benefice itself, was the neatest. 
 The cottage in which he and Margaret passed 
 their childhood had been remarkable for that 
 comfort which is the result and the reward 
 of order and neatness : and when the re- 
 union which blessed them both rendered 
 the remembrance of those years delightful, 
 they returned in this respect to the way in 
 which they had been trained up, practised 
 the economy which they had learned there, 
 and loved to think how entirely their course 
 of life, in all its circumstances, would be 
 after the heart of that person, if she could 
 behold it, whose memory they both with 
 equal affection cherished. After his bereave- 
 ment it was one of the widower's pensive 
 pleasures to keep everything in the same 
 state as when Margaret was living. Nothing 
 was neglected that she used to do, or that 
 she would have done. The flowers were 
 tended as carefully as if she were still to 
 enjoy their fragrance and their beauty ; and 
 the birds who came in winter for their 
 crumbs were fed as duly for her sake, as 
 they had formerly been by her hands. 
 
 There was no superstition in this, nor 
 weakness. Immoderate grief, if it does not 
 exhaust itself by indulgence, easily assumes 
 the one character, or the other, or takes a 
 type of insanity. But he had looked for 
 consolation, where, when sincerely sought, 
 it is always to be found ; and he had expe- 
 
 rienced that religion effects in a true be- 
 liever all that philosophy professes, and 
 more than all that mere philosophy can per- 
 form. The wounds which stoicism would 
 cauterise, religion heals. 
 
 There is a resignation with which, it may 
 be feared, most of us deceive ourselves. To 
 bear what must be borne, and submit to 
 what cannot be resisted, is no more than 
 what the unregenerate heart is taught by 
 the instinct of animal nature. But to ac- 
 quiesce in the afflictive dispensations of Pro- 
 vidence, to make one's own will conform 
 in all things to that of our Heavenly Father, 
 to say to him in the sincerity of faith, 
 when we drink of the bitter cup, " Thy will 
 be done!" to bless the name of the Lord 
 as much from the heart when He take? 
 away, as when He gives, and with a depth 
 of feeling of which, perhaps, none but the 
 afflicted heart is capable, this is the re- 
 signation which religion teaches, this the 
 sacrifice which it requires. * This sacrifice 
 Leonard had made, and he felt that it was 
 accepted. 
 
 Severe, therefore, as his loss had been, 
 and lasting as its effects were, it produced in 
 him nothing like a settled sorrow, nor even 
 that melancholy which sorrow leaves behind. 
 Gibbon has said of himself, that as a mere 
 philosopher he could not agree with the 
 Greeks, in thinking that those who die in 
 their youth are favoured by the Gods : 
 
 "Ov 01 Seal <pi\ovau> airoGvi'iffKfi vtos. 
 
 It was because he was "a mere philosopher,'' 
 that he failed to perceive a truth which 
 the religious heathen acknowledged, and 
 which is so trivial, and of such practical value, 
 that it may now be seen inscribed upon 
 village tombstones. The Christian knows 
 that " blessed are the dead which die in 
 the Lord ; even so saith the Spirit." And the 
 
 * This passage was written when Southey was bowing 
 his head under the sorest and saddest of his many troubles. 
 He thus alludes to it in a letter to me, dated October 5. 
 1834. 
 
 " On the next leaf is the passage of which I spoke in 
 my letter from York. It belongs to an early chapter in 
 the third volume ; and very remarkable it is that it should 
 have been written just at that time."
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 221 
 
 heart of the Christian mourner, in its deepest 
 distress, hath the witness of the Spirit to 
 that consolatory assurance. 
 
 In this faith Leonard regarded his be- 
 reavement. His loss, he knew, had been 
 Margaret's gain. What, if she had been 
 summoned in the flower of her years, and 
 from a state of connubial happiness which 
 there had been nothing to distizrb or to 
 alloy ? How soon might that flower have 
 been blighted, how surely must it have 
 faded ! how easily might that happiness have 
 been interrupted by some of those evils 
 which flesh is heir to ! And as the separa- 
 tion was to take place, how mercifully had 
 it been appointed that he, who was the 
 stronger vessel, should be the survivor! 
 Even for their child this was best, greatly 
 as she needed, and would need, a mother's 
 care. His paternal solicitude would supply 
 that care, as far as it was possible to supply 
 it ; but had he been removed, mother and 
 child must have been left to the mercy of 
 Providence, without any earthly protector, 
 or any means of support. 
 
 For her to die was gain ; in him, there- 
 fore, it were sinful as well as selfish to repine, 
 and of such selfishness and sin his heart 
 acquitted him. If a wish could have recalled 
 her to life, no such wish would ever have by 
 him been uttered, nor ever have by him 
 been felt ; certain he was that he loved her 
 too well to bring her again into this world 
 of instability and trial. Upon earth there 
 can be no safe happiness. 
 
 Ah ! male FORTUNE itevota est ara MANENTI ! 
 FaUit, et htec nullas accipit ara preces.* 
 
 All things here are subject to Time and 
 Mutability : 
 
 Qnod tibi largS dedil Hora dextra, 
 Horafuraci rapiet siniitra.^ 
 
 We must be in eternity before we can be 
 secure against change. " The world," says 
 Cowper, " upon which we close our eyes at 
 night, is never the same with that on which 
 we open them in the morning." 
 
 It was to the perfect Order he should find 
 
 * WALLIUS. 
 
 t CASIMIR. 
 
 in that state upon which he was about to 
 enter, that the judicious Hooker looked for- 
 ward at his death with placid and profound 
 contentment. Because he had been em- 
 ployed in contending against a spirit of in- 
 subordination and schism which soon proved 
 fatal to his country ; and because his life 
 had been passed under the perpetual dis- 
 comfort of domestic discord, the happiness 
 of Heaven seemed, in his estimation, to 
 consist primarily in Order, as, indeed, in all 
 human societies this is the first thing need- 
 ful. The discipline which Mr. Bacon had 
 undergone was very different in kind : what 
 he delighted to think, was, that the souls of 
 those whom death and redemption have 
 made perfect, are in a world where there is 
 no change, nor parting, where nothing 
 fades, nothing passes away and is no more 
 seen, but the good and the beautiful are 
 permanent. 
 
 Miser, chi speme in cosa mortal pone ; 
 Ma, chi non ve la pone ? t 
 
 When Wilkie was in the Escurial, looking 
 at Titian's famous picture of the Last Sup- 
 per, in the Refectory there, an old Jeronimite 
 said to him, "I have sat daily in sight of 
 that picture for now nearly threescore 
 years ; during that time my companions 
 have dropped off, one after another, all who 
 were my seniors, all who were my contempo- 
 raries, and many, or most of those who were 
 younger than myself; more than oe gene- 
 ration has passed away, and there the figures 
 in the picture have remained unchanged ! 
 I look at them till I sometimes think that 
 they are the realities, and we but shadows !" 
 
 I wish I could record the name of the 
 Monk by whom that natural feeling was so 
 feelingly and strikingly expressed. 
 
 " The shows of things are better than themselves," 
 
 says the author of the Tragedy of Nero, 
 whose name also I could wish had been 
 forthcoming; and the classical reader will 
 remember the lines of Sophocles : 
 
 J PETRARCH. 
 
 See the very beautiful lines of Wordsworth in the 
 " Yarrow Revisited." The affecting incident is intro- 
 duced in " Lines on a Portrait."
 
 222 THE DOCTOR, 
 
 
 easily comforted of any in the world ! " It 
 
 O(S yj r,u.!i; ei8e otra.s aXA, TX?! 
 
 Eiiii/.', cfenri( ^a/^m, v, xovQw fxiit.* 
 
 is not likely that this should have been the 
 
 These are reflections which should make 
 
 book which Leibnitz praised ; nor would 
 
 us think 
 
 Cowper have thus condemned one which re- 
 
 Of that same time when no more change shall be, 
 
 commends the mourner to seek for comfort, 
 
 But stedfast rest of all things, firmly stayd 
 
 where alone it is to be found, in resignation 
 
 Upon the pillars of Eternity, 
 That is contrairo to mutability ; 
 
 to God's will, and in the prospect of the life 
 
 For all that moveth doth in change delight : 
 
 to come. The remedy is infallible for those, 
 
 But thenceforth all shall rest eternally 
 With Him that is the God of Sabaoth hight, 
 O that great Sabaoth God grant me that sabbath's 
 
 who, like Mr. Bacon, faithfully pursue the 
 course that the only true philosophy pre- 
 
 sight.f 
 
 scribes. 
 
 
 At first, indeed, he had felt like the be- 
 
 
 reaved maiden in Schiller's tragedy, and 
 
 
 
 could almost have prayed like her, for a 
 
 CHAPTER XCVIIL 
 
 speedy deliverance, 
 
 
 Das Herz ist gestorben, die Welt ist leer, 
 
 CHRISTIAN CONSOLATION. OPINIONS CON- 
 
 Und weiter giebt sie dem Wunsche nichts mehr. 
 
 CERNING THE SPIRITS OF THE DEAD. 
 
 r>u Heilige, rufe dein Kind zuriick ! 
 
 
 Ich habe genossen das irdische Gliick, 
 
 The voice which I did more esteem 
 
 Ich habe gelebt und geliebet. 
 
 Than music in her sweetest key ; 
 Those eyes which unto me did seem 
 
 But even at first the sense of parental 
 
 More comfortable than the day ! 
 
 duty withheld him from such a prayer. The 
 
 Those now by me, as they have been, 
 Shall never more be heard, or seen ; 
 
 grief, though " fine, full, perfect," was not a 
 
 But what I once enjoyed in them, 
 
 grief that 
 
 Shall seem hereafter as a dream. 
 
 violenteth in a sense as strong 
 
 All earthly comforts vanish thus ; 
 
 As that which causeth it,J 
 
 So little hold of them have we, 
 That we from them, or they from us, 
 
 There was this to compress, as it were, 
 
 May in a moment ravished be. 
 
 and perhaps to mitigate it, that it was 
 
 Yet we are neither just nor wise, 
 If present mercies we despise ; 
 Or mind not how there may be made 
 
 Avholly confined to himself, not multiplied 
 among others, and reflected from them. In 
 
 A thankful use of what we bad. 
 
 great public calamities, when fortunes are 
 
 
 wrecked in revolutionary storms, or families 
 
 THERE is a book written in Latin by the 
 
 thinned or swept off by pestilence, there 
 
 Flemish Jesuit Sarasa, upon the Art of re- 
 
 may be too many who look upon it as 
 
 joicing always in obedience to the Apostle's 
 
 Kolamen miseris socios habuisse doloris ; 
 
 precept, ' Ars semper gaudendi, demon- 
 strata ex sola consideratione Divines Provi- 
 
 and this is not so much because 
 
 dentice? Leibnitz and Wolf have com- 
 
 fellowship in woe doth woe assuage, K 
 
 mended it; and a French Protestant mi- 
 
 and that 
 
 nister abridged it under the better title of 
 
 the mind much suflfenance doth o'erskip 
 
 L 'Art de se tranquiliser dans tons les evene- 
 
 When grief hath mates and bearing fellowship, H 
 
 mens de la vie. " I remember," says Cow- 
 
 as because the presence of a fellow sufferer 
 
 per, " reading, many years ago, a long 
 
 at such times calls forth condolence, when 
 
 treatise on the subject of consolation, writ- 
 
 that of one who continues in the sunshine 
 
 ten in French ; the author's name I have 
 
 of fortune might provoke an envious self- 
 
 forgotten ; but I wrote these words in the 
 
 comparison, which is the commonest of all 
 
 margin, ' special consolation ! ' at least for 
 
 evil feelings. But it is not so with those 
 
 a Frenchman, who is a creature the most 
 
 
 
 J SHAKESPEARE. INCERTI ArcToms. 
 
 
 * SOPHOCLES. f SPENCER. 
 
 H SHAKESPEARE.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 223 I 
 
 keener griefs which affect us in our domestic 
 relations. The heart-wounds which are 
 inflicted by our fellow-creatures are apt to 
 fester : those which we receive in the dis- 
 pensations of Almighty wisdom and the 
 course of nature are remedial and sanative. 
 There are some fruits which must be punc- 
 tured before they can ripen kindly ; and 
 there are some hearts which require an ana- 
 logous process. 
 
 He and Margaret had been all in all to 
 each other, and the child was too young to 
 understand her loss, and happily just too 
 old to feel it as an infant would have felt it. 
 In the sort of comfort which he derived 
 from this sense of loneliness, there was no- 
 thing that resembled the pride of stoicism ; 
 it was a consideration that tempered his 
 feelings and assisted in enabling him to 
 control them, but it concentrated and per- 
 petuated them. 
 
 Whether the souls of the departed are 
 cognizant of what passes on earth, is a ques- 
 tion which has been variously determined 
 by those who have reasoned concerning the 
 state of the dead. Thomas Burnet was 
 of opinion that they are not, because they 
 " rest from their labours." And South 
 says, " it is clear that God sometimes takes 
 his Saints out of the world for this very 
 cause, that they may not see and know what 
 happens in it. For so says God to King 
 Josiah, ' Behold, I will gather thee to thy 
 fathers, and thou shalt be gathered to thy 
 grave in peace ; neither shall thy eyes see 
 all the evil that I will bring upon this place, 
 and the inhabitants thereof.' " This he ad- 
 duces as a conclusive argument against the 
 invocation of Saints, saying, the " discourse 
 would have been hugely absurd and incon- 
 sequent, if so be the saints' separation from 
 the body gave them a fuller and a clearer 
 prospect into all the particular affairs and 
 occurrences that happen here upon earth." 
 
 Aristotle came to an opposite conclusion ; 
 he thought not only that the works of the 
 deceased follow them, but that the dead are 
 sensible of the earthly consequences of those 
 works, and are affected in the other world 
 by the honour or the reproach which is 
 
 justly ascribed to their memory in this. So 
 Pindar represents it as one of the enjoy- 
 ments of the blessed, that they behold and 
 rejoice in the virtues of their posterity : 
 
 xa.1 ri tt.vvTiff(m 
 
 So Sextus, or Sextius, the Pythagorean, 
 taught ; immortales crede te manere in ju- 
 dicio honores et pcenas. And Bishop Ken 
 deemed it would be an addition to his hap- 
 piness in Paradise, if he should know that 
 his devotional poems were answering on 
 earth the purpose for which he had piously 
 composed them : 
 
 should the well-meant songs I leave behind 
 With Jesus' lovers an acceptance find, 
 "Twill heighten even the joys of Heaven to know 
 That in my verse the Saints hymn God below. 
 
 The consensus gentium universcdis is with 
 the Philosophers and the Bishop, against 
 South and Burnet : it affords an argument 
 which South would not have disregarded, 
 and to which Burnet has, on another occa- 
 sion, triumphantly appealed. 
 
 All sacrifices to the dead, and all comme- 
 morations of them, have arisen from this 
 opinion, and the Romish Church established 
 upon it the most lucrative of all its deceitful 
 practices. Indeed the belief in apparitions 
 could not prevail without it ; and that 
 belief, which was all but universal a cen- 
 tury ago, is still, and ever will be held by 
 the great majority of mankind. Call it a 
 prejudice if you will ; " what is an universal 
 prejudice," says Reginald Heber, "but the 
 voice of human nature ? " And Shake- 
 speare seems to express his own opinion 
 when he writes, " They say miracles are 
 past ; and we have our philosophical persons, 
 to make modern and familiar, things super- 
 natural and causeless. Hence it is that we 
 make trifles of terrors, ensconcing ourselves 
 into seeming knowledge, when we should 
 submit ourselves to an unknown fear." f 
 
 PINDAR, Ol. viii. 101, &c. See also Pyth. v. 133. &c. 
 t All's Well that Ends Well, Act ii. Sc. iii.
 
 224 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 That the spirits of the departed are per- 
 mitted to appear only for special purposes 
 is what the most credulous believer in such 
 appearances would probably admit, if he 
 reasoned at all upon the subject. On the 
 other hand, they who are most incredulous 
 on this point would hardly deny that to 
 witness the consequences of our actions may 
 be a natural and just part of our reward or 
 punishment in the intermediate state. We 
 may well believe that they whom faith has 
 sanctified, and who upon their departure 
 join the spirits of the "just made perfect," 
 may at once be removed from all concern 
 with this world of probation, except so far 
 as might add to their own happiness, and be 
 made conducive to the good of others, in 
 the ways of Providence. But by parity of 
 reason, it may be concluded that the sordid 
 and the sensual, they whose affections have 
 been set upon worldly things, and who are 
 of the earth earthy, will be as unable to rise 
 above this earth, as they would be incapable 
 of any pure and spiritual enjoyment. " He 
 that soweth to his flesh, shall of the flesh 
 reap corruption." When life is extin- 
 guished, it is too late for them to struggle 
 for deliverance from the body of that death, 
 to which, while the choice was in their 
 power, they wilfully and inseparably bound 
 themselves. The popular belief that places 
 are haunted where money has been con- 
 cealed (as if where the treasure was, and 
 the heart had been, there would the miser- 
 able soul be also), or where some great and 
 undiscovered crime has been committed, 
 shows how consistent this is with our na- 
 tural sense of likelihood and fitness. 
 
 There is a tale in the Nigaristan of 
 Kemal-Pascha-zade, that one of the Sultans 
 of Khorassan saw in a dream, Mahmoud a 
 hundred years after his death, wandering 
 about his palace, his flesh rotten, his 
 bones carious, but his eyes full, anxious, and 
 restless. A dervise who interpreted the 
 dream, said that the eyes of Mahmoud were 
 thus troubled, because the kingdom, his 
 beautiful spouse, was now in the embrace of 
 another. 
 
 This was that great Mahmoud the Gaz- 
 
 nevide, who was the first Mohammedan 
 conqueror that entered India, and the first 
 who dropped the title of Malek and assumed 
 that of Sultan in its stead. He it was, who 
 after having broken to pieces with his own 
 hands the gigantic idol of Soumenat, put to 
 death fifty thousand of its worshippers, as -a 
 further proof of his holy Mohammedan in- 
 dignation. In the last days of his life, when 
 a mortal disease was consuming him, and he 
 himself knew that no human means could 
 arrest its course, he ordered all his costliest 
 apparel, and his vessels of silver and gold, 
 and his pearls and precious stones, the ines- 
 timable spoils of the East, to be displayed 
 before him, the latter were so numerous 
 that they were arranged in separate cabinets 
 according to their colour and size. It was 
 in the royal residence which he had built 
 for himself in Gazna, and which he called the 
 Palace of Felicity, that he took from this 
 display, wherewith he had formerly gratified 
 the pride of his eye, a mournful lesson ; and 
 in the then heartfelt conviction that all is 
 vanity, he wept like a child. " What toils," 
 said he, "what dangers, what fatigues of 
 body and mind have I endured for the sake 
 of acquiring these treasures, and what cares 
 in preserving them, and now I am about to 
 die and leave them ! " In this same palace 
 he was interred, and there it was that his 
 unhappy ghost, a century afterwards, was 
 believed to wander. 
 
 CHAPTER XCIX. 
 
 A COUNTRY PARISH. SOME WHOLESOME EX- 
 TRACTS, SOME TRUE ANECDOTES, AND SOME 
 USEFUL HINTS, WHICH WILL NOT BE TAKEN 
 BY THOSE WHO NEED THEM MOST. 
 
 Kon e tnconvenfente, che delle cose delettabili alcune nc 
 sieno utfli, cost come dell' vtili molte nc sono delettabili, et 
 in tutte due alcune si truovano honesle. 
 
 LEONE MEDICO (HEBREO). 
 
 MR. BACON'S parsonage was as humble a 
 dwelling in all respects as the cottage in 
 which his friend Daniel was born. A best
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 225 
 
 kitchen was its best room, and in its furniture 
 an Observantine Friar would have seen no- 
 thing that he could have condemned as 
 superfluous. His college and later school 
 books, with a few volumes which had been 
 presented to him by the more grateful of 
 his pupils, composed his scanty library : 
 they were either books of needful reference, 
 or such as upon every fresh perusal might 
 afford new delight. But he had obtained 
 the use of the Church Library at Doncaster, 
 by a payment of twenty shillings, according 
 to the terms of the foundation. Folios from 
 that collection might be kept three mouths, 
 smaller volumes, one or two, according to 
 their size ; and as there were many works 
 in it of solid contents as well as sterling 
 value, he was in no such want of intellectual 
 food, as too many of his brethren are, even 
 at this time. How much good might have 
 been done, and how much evil might pro- 
 bably have been prevented, if Dr. Bray's 
 design for the formation of parochial li- 
 braries had been everywhere carried into 
 effect ! 
 
 The parish contained between five and 
 six hundred souls. There was no one of 
 higher rank among them than entitled him, 
 according to the custom of those days, to be 
 styled gentleman upon his tombstone. They 
 were plain people, who had neither manu- 
 factories to corrupt, ale-houses to brutalise, 
 nor newspapers to mislead them. At first 
 coming among them he had won their good- 
 will by his affability and benign conduct, 
 and he had afterwards gained their respect 
 and affection in an equal degree. 
 
 There were two services at his church, 
 but only one sermon, which never fell short 
 of fifteen minutes in length, and seldom 
 extended to half-an-hour. It was generally 
 abridged from some good old divine. His 
 own compositions were few, and only upon 
 points on which he wished carefully to ex- 
 amine and digest his own thoughts, or which 
 were peculiarly suited to some or other of 
 his hearers. His whole stock might be 
 deemed scanty in these days ; but there was 
 not one in it which would not well bear 
 repetition, and the more observant of his 
 
 congregation liked that they should be re- 
 peated. 
 
 Young ministers are earnestly advised 
 long to refrain from preaching their own 
 productions, in an excellent little book ad- 
 dressed by a Father to his Son, preparatory 
 to his receiving holy orders. Its title is a 
 " Monitor for Young Ministers," and every 
 parent who has a son so circumstanced 
 would do well to put it into his hands. " It 
 is not possible," says this judicious writer, 
 " that a young minister can at first be com- 
 petent to preach his sermons with effect, 
 even if his abilities should qualify him to 
 write well. His very youth and youthful 
 manner, both in his style of writing and in 
 his delivery, will preclude him from being 
 effective. Unquestionably it is very rare 
 indeed for a man of his age to have his 
 mental abilities sufficiently chastened, or 
 his method sufficiently settled, to be equal 
 to the composition of a sermon fit for public 
 use, even if it should receive the advantage 
 of chaste and good delivery. On every 
 account, therefore, it is wise and prudent to 
 be slow and backward in venturing to pro- 
 duce his own efforts, or in thinking that 
 they are fit for the public ear. There is an 
 abundant field of the works of others open 
 to him, from the wisest and the best of men, 
 the weight, of whose little fingers, in argu- 
 ment or instruction, will be greater than his 
 own loins, even at his highest maturity. 
 There is clearly no want of new compositions, 
 excepting on some new or occasional emer- 
 gencies : for there is not an open subject in 
 the Christian religion, which has not been 
 discussed by men of the greatest learning 
 and piety, who have left behind them nu- 
 merous works for our assistance and edifica- 
 tion. Many of these are so neglected, that 
 they are become almost new ground for our 
 generation. To these he may freely resort, 
 till experience and a rational and chas- 
 tened confidence shall warrant him in be- 
 lieving himself qualified to work upon his 
 own resources." 
 
 " He that learns of young men," says 
 Rabbi Jose Bar Jehudah, " is like a man 
 that eats unripe grapes, or that drinks wine
 
 226 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 out of the wine-press ; but he that learneth 
 of the ancient, is like a man that eateth ripe 
 grapes, and drinketh wine that is old." * 
 
 It was not in pursuance of any judicious 
 advice like this that Mr. Bacon followed the 
 course here pointed out, but from his own 
 good sense and natural humility. His only 
 ambition was to be useful ; if a desire may 
 be called ambitious which originated in the 
 sincere sense of duty. To think of dis- 
 tinguishing himself in any other way, would 
 for him, he well knew, have been worse than 
 an idle dream. The time expended in com- 
 posing a sermon as a perfunctory official 
 business, would have been worse than wasted 
 for himself, and the time employed in de- 
 livering it, no better than wasted upon his 
 congregation. He was especially careful 
 never to weary them, and, therefore, never 
 to preach anything which was not likely to 
 engage their attention, and make at least 
 some present impression. His own sermons 
 effected this, because they were always com- 
 posed with some immediate view, or under 
 the influence of some deep and strong feeling: 
 and in his adopted ones, the different man- 
 ner of the different authors produced an 
 awakening effect. Good sense is as often to 
 be found among the illiterate, as among 
 those who have enjoyed the opportunities of 
 education. Many of his hearers who knew 
 but one meaning of the word stile, and had 
 never heard it used in any other, perceived 
 a difference in the manner of Bishops Hall, 
 and Sanderson and Jeremy Taylor, of Bar- 
 row, and South and Scott, without troubling 
 themselves about the cause,' or being in the 
 slightest degree aware of it. 
 
 Mr. Bacon neither undervalued his parish- 
 ioners, nor overvalued the good which could 
 be wrought among them by direct instruction 
 of this kind. While he used perspicuous 
 language, he knew that they who listened to 
 it would be able to follow the argument; 
 and as he drew always from the wells of 
 English undefiled, he was safe on that point. 
 But that all even of the adults would listen, 
 and that all even of those who did, would 
 
 * LlGHTFOOT. 
 
 do anything more than hear, he was too 
 well acquainted with human nature to 
 expect. 
 
 A woman in humble life was asked one 
 day on the way back from church, whether 
 she had understood the sermon ; a stranger 
 had preached, and his discourse resembled 
 one of Mr. Bacon's neither in length nor 
 depth. " Wud I hae the persumption ? " 
 was her simple and contented answer. The 
 quality of the discourse signified nothing to 
 her ; she had done her duty, as well as she 
 could, in hearing it; and she went to her 
 house justified rather than some of those 
 who had attended to it critically ; or who 
 had turned to the text in their Bibles when 
 it was given out. 
 
 " Well, Master Jackson," said his Minister, 
 walking homeward after service, with an 
 industrious labourer, who was a constant 
 attendant; "well, Master Jackson, Sunday 
 must be a blessed day of rest for you, who 
 work so hard all the week ! And you make 
 a good use of the day, for you are always to 
 be seen at Church!" "Ay, Sir," replied 
 Jackson, " it is indeed a blessed day ; I 
 works hard enough all the week, and then 
 I comes to Church o' Sundays, and sets me 
 down, and lays my legs up, and thinks 
 o 1 nothing." 
 
 " Let my candle go out in a stink, when 
 I refuse to confess from whom I have lighted 
 it." f The author to whose little book J I 
 am beholden for this true anecdote, after 
 saying " Such was the religion of this worthy 
 man," justly adds, " and such must be the 
 religion of most men of his station. Doubt- 
 less, it is a wise dispensation that it is so. 
 For so it has been from the beginning of the 
 world, and there is no visible reason to sup- 
 pose that it can ever be otherwise." 
 
 " In spite," says this judicious writer, " of 
 all the zealous wishes and efforts of the most 
 pious and laborious teachers, the religion of 
 the bulk of the people must and will ever be 
 little more than mere habit, and confidence 
 in others. This must of necessity be the 
 case with all men, who, from defect of 
 
 t FULLER. 
 
 J Few Words on many Subjects.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 227 
 
 nature or education, or from other worldly 
 causes, have not the power or the disposition 
 to think ; and it cannot be disputed that the 
 far greater number of mankind are of this 
 class. These facts give peculiar force to 
 those lessons which teach the importance 
 and efficacy of good example from those 
 who are blessed with higher qualifications ; 
 and they strongly demonstrate the necessity 
 that the zeal of those who wish to impress 
 the people with the deep and awful mys- 
 teries of religion should be tempered by 
 wisdom and discretion, no less than by 
 patience, forbearance, and a great latitude of 
 indulgence for uncontrollable circumstances. 
 They also call upon us most powerfully to 
 do all we can to provide such teachers, and 
 imbue them with such principles as shall not 
 endanger the good cause by over earnest 
 efforts to effect more than, in the nature of 
 things, can be done ; or disturb the existing 
 good by attempting more than will be borne, 
 or by producing hypocritical pretences of 
 more than can be really felt." 
 
 CHAPTER C. 
 
 SHOWING HOW THE VICAR DEALT WITH THE 
 JUVENILE PART OF HIS FLOCK ; AND HOW 
 HE WAS OF OPINION THAT THE MORE 
 PLEASANT THE WAT IN WHICH CHILDREN 
 ARE TRAINED UP TO GO CAN BE MADE 
 FOR THEM, THE LESS LIKELY THEY WILL 
 BE TO DEPART FROM IT. 
 
 Sweet were the sauce would please each kind of taste, 
 The life, likewise, were pure that never swerved ; 
 
 For spiteful tongues, in cankered stomachs placed, 
 Deem worst of things which best, percase, deserved. 
 
 But what for that ? This medicine may suffice, 
 
 To scorn the rest, and seek to please the wise. 
 
 SIB WALTEK RALEIGH. 
 
 THE first thing which Mr. Bacon had done 
 after taking possession of his vicarage, and 
 obtaining such information about his parish- 
 ioners as the more considerate of them could 
 impart, was to inquire into the state of the 
 children in every household. He knew that 
 to win the mother's good will was the surest 
 way to win that of the family, and to win 
 
 the children was a good step toward gaining 
 that of the mother. In those days reading 
 and writing were thought as little necessary 
 for the lower class, as the art of spelling for 
 the class above them, or indeed for any ex- 
 cept the learned. Their ignorance in this 
 respect was sometimes found to be incon- 
 venient, but by none, perhaps, except here 
 and there by a conscientious and thoughtful 
 clergyman, was it felt to be an evil, an 
 impediment in the way of that moral and 
 religious instruction, without which men are 
 in danger of becoming as the beasts that 
 perish. Yet the common wish of advancing 
 their children in the world made most 
 parents in this station desire to obtain the 
 advantage of what they called book-learning 
 for any son who was supposed to manifest a 
 disposition likely to profit by it. To make 
 him a scholar was to raise him a step above 
 themselves. 
 
 Qui ha les lettres, ha Fadresse 
 Au double d'un qtti n'en ha point.* 
 
 Partly for this reason, and still more that 
 industrious mothers might be relieved from 
 the care of looking after their children, there 
 were few villages in which, as in Mr. Bacon's 
 parish, some poor woman in the decline of 
 life and of fortune did not obtain day- 
 scholars enough to eke out her scanty means 
 of subsistence. 
 
 The village Schoolmistress, such as Shen- 
 stone describes in his admirable poem, and 
 such as Kirke White drew from the life, is 
 no longer a living character. The new 
 system of education has taken from this 
 class of women the staff of their declining 
 age, as the spinning jennies have silenced 
 the domestic music of the spinning wheel. 
 Both changes have come on unavoidably in 
 the progress of human affairs. It is well 
 when any change brings with it nothing 
 worse than some temporary and incidental 
 evil ; but if the moral machinery can coun- 
 teract the great and growing evils of the 
 manufacturing system, it will be the greatest 
 moral miracle that has ever been wrought. 
 
 Sunday schools f, which make Sunday a 
 
 BAIP. 
 
 t See supra, p. 146.
 
 228 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 day of toil to the teachers, and the most 
 irksome day of the week to the children, had 
 not at that time been devised as a palliative 
 for the profligacy of large towns, and the 
 worsened and worsening condition of the 
 poor. Mr. Bacon endeavoured to make the 
 parents perform their religious duty toward 
 their children, either by teaching them what 
 they could themselves teach, or by sending 
 them where their own want of knowledge 
 might be supplied. Whether the children 
 went to school or not, it was his wish that 
 they should be taught their prayers, the 
 Creed, and the Commandments, at home. 
 These he thought were better learned at the 
 mother's knees than from any other teacher ; 
 and he knew also how wholesome for the 
 mother it was that the child should receive 
 from her its first spiritual food, the milk of 
 sound doctrine. In a purely agricultural 
 parish, there were at that time no parents 
 in a state of such brutal ignorance as to be 
 unable to teach these, though they might 
 never have been taught to read. When the 
 father or mother could read, he expected 
 that they should also teach their children 
 the catechism ; in other cases this was left to 
 bis humble co-adjutrix the schoolmistress. 
 
 During the summer and part of the au- 
 tumn, he followed the good old usage of 
 catechising the children, after the second 
 lesson in the evening service. His method 
 was to ask a few questions in succession, and 
 only from those who he knew were able to 
 answer them ; and after each answer he 
 entered into a brief exposition suited to 
 their capacity. His manner was so bene- 
 volent, and he had made himself so familiar 
 in his visits, which were at once pastoral 
 and friendly, that no child _ felt alarmed at 
 being singled out; they regarded it as a 
 mark of distinction, and the parents were 
 proud of seeing them thus distinguished. 
 This practice was discontinued in winter ; 
 because he knew that to keep a congregation 
 in the cold is not the way either to quicken 
 or cherish devotional feeling. Once a week 
 during Lent he examined all the children, 
 on a week day ; the last examination was in 
 Easter week, after which each was sent home 
 
 happy with a homely cake, the gift of a 
 wealthy parishioner, who by this means con- 
 tributed not a little to the good effect of the 
 pastor's diligence. 
 
 The foundation was thus laid by teaching 
 the rising generation their duty towards God 
 and towards their neighbour, and so far 
 training them in the way that they should 
 go. In the course of a few years every 
 household, from the highest to the lowest, 
 (the degrees were neither great nor many,) 
 had learned to look upon him as their friend. 
 There was only one in the parish whose 
 members were upon a parity with him in 
 manners, none in literary culture; but in 
 good will, and in human sympathy, he was 
 upon a level with them all. Never inter- 
 fering in the concerns of any family, unless 
 his interference was solicited, he was con- 
 sulted upon all occasions of trouble or im- 
 portance. Incipient disputes, which would 
 otherwise have afforded grist for the lawyer's 
 mill, were adjusted by his mediation; and 
 anxious parents, when they had cause to 
 apprehend that their children were going 
 wrong, knew no better course than to com- 
 municate their fears to him, and request 
 that he would administer some timely admo- 
 nition. Whenever he was thus called on, or 
 had of himself perceived that reproof or 
 warning was required, it was given in pri- 
 vate, or only in presence of the parents, 
 and always with a gentleness which none 
 but an obdurate disposition could resist. 
 His influence over the younger part of his 
 flock was the greater because he was no 
 enemy to any innocent sports, but, on the 
 contrary, was pleased to see them dance 
 round the may-pole, encouraged them to 
 dress their doors with oaken boughs on the 
 day of King Charles's happy restoration, and 
 to wear an oaken garland in the hat, or an 
 oak-apple on its sprig in the button hole; 
 went to see their bonfire on the fifth of No- 
 vember, and entertained the morris-dancers 
 when they called upon him in their Christ- 
 mas rounds. 
 
 Mr. Bacon was in his parish what a 
 moralising old poet wished himself to be, in 
 these pleasing stanzas :
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 229 
 
 I would I wore an excellent divine, 
 That had the Bible at my fingers' ends, 
 
 That men might hear out of this mouth of mine 
 How God doth make his enemies his friends ; 
 
 Bather than with a thundering and long prayer 
 
 Be led into presumption, or despair. 
 
 Tiiis would I be, and would none other be 
 
 But a religious servant of my God: 
 And know there is none other God but He, 
 
 And willingly to suffer Mercy's rod, 
 Joy in his grace and live but in his love, 
 And seek my bliss but in the world above. 
 
 And I would frame a kind of faithful prayer 
 For all estates within the state of grace ; 
 
 That careful love might never know despair, 
 Nor servile fear might faithful love deface ; 
 
 And this would I both day and night devise 
 
 To make my humble spirits exercise. 
 
 And I would read the rules of sacred life, 
 Persuade the troubled soul to patience, 
 
 The husband care, and comfort to the wife, 
 To child and servant due obedience. 
 
 Faith to the friend and to the neighbour peace, 
 
 That love might live, and quarrels all might cease : 
 
 Pray for the health of all that are diseased, 
 Confession unto all that are convicted. 
 
 And patience unto all that are displeased, 
 And comfort unto all that are afflicted, 
 
 And mercy unto all that have offended, 
 
 And grace to all, that all may be amended.* 
 
 CHAPTER CL 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF A BETIHED TOBACCONIST 
 AND HIS FAMILY. 
 
 Nanfumum ezfulgore, sed ex f unto dare lucem. 
 
 HORACE. 
 
 IN all Mr. Bacon's views he was fortunate 
 enough to have the hearty concurrence of 
 the wealthiest person in the parish. This 
 was a good man, Allison by name, who 
 having realised a respectable fortune in the 
 metropolis as a tobacconist, and put out his 
 sons in life according to their respective 
 inclinations, had retired from business at 
 the age of threescore, and established him- 
 self with an unmarried daughter, and a 
 maiden sister some ten years younger than 
 himself, in his native village, that he might 
 there, when his hour should come, be 
 gathered to his fathers. 
 
 " N. B., supposed to be NICHOLAS BRETON. 
 
 " The providence of God," says South, 
 " has so ordered the course of things, that 
 there is no action the usefulness of which 
 has made it the matter of duty and of a 
 profession, but a man may bear the con- 
 tinual pursuit of it, without loathing or 
 satiety. The same shop and trade that 
 employs a man in his youth employs him 
 also in his age. Every morning he rises 
 fresh to his hammer and his anvil : custom 
 has naturalised his labour to him ; his shop 
 is his element, and he cannot, with any 
 enjoyment of himself, live out of it." The 
 great preacher contrasts this with the 
 wearisomeness of an idle life, and the 
 misery of a continual round of what the 
 world calls pleasure. " But now," says he, 
 " if God has interwoven such a content- 
 ment with the works of our ordinary call- 
 ing, how much superior and more refined 
 must that be that arises from the survey of 
 a pious and well-governed life ? " 
 
 This passage bears upon Mr. Allison's 
 case, partly in the consolatory fact which it 
 states, and wholly in the application which 
 South has made of it. At the age of four- 
 teen he had been apprenticed to an Uncle 
 in Bishopsgate Street-within ; and twenty 
 years after, on that Uncle's death, had suc- 
 ceeded to his old and well-established busi- 
 ness. But though he had lived there 
 prosperously and happily six and twenty 
 years longer, he had contracted no such 
 love for it as to overcome the recollections 
 of his childhood. Grateful as the smell of 
 snuff and tobacco had become to him, he 
 still remembered that cowslips and violets 
 were sweeter ; and that the breath of a 
 May morning was more exhilarating than 
 the air of his own shop, impregnated as it 
 was with the odour of the best Virginia. 
 So having buried his wife, who was a Lon- 
 doner, and made over the business to his 
 eldest son, he returned to his native place, 
 with the intention of dying there; but he 
 was in sound health of body and mind, and 
 his green old age seemed to promise, as 
 far as any thing can promise, length of 
 days. 
 
 Of his two other sons, one had chosen to
 
 230 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 be a clergyman, and approved his choice 
 both by his parts and diligence, for he had 
 gone off from Merchant- Taylors' School to 
 St. John's, Oxford, and was then a fellow of 
 that college. The other was a Mate in the 
 Merchants' service, and would soon have 
 the command of a ship in it. The desire of 
 seeing the world led him to this way of life ; 
 and that desire had been unintentionally 
 implanted by his father, who, in making 
 himself acquainted with everything relating 
 to the herb out of which his own fortune 
 was raised, had become fond of reading 
 voyages and travels. His conversation in- 
 duced the lad to read these books, and the 
 books confirmed the inclination which had 
 already been excited ; and as the boy was 
 of an adventurous temper, he thought it best 
 to let him follow the pursuit on which his 
 mind was bent. 
 
 The change to a Yorkshire village was not 
 too great for Mr. Allison, even after residing 
 nearly half a century in Bishopsgate Street - 
 within. The change in his own household 
 indeed rendered it expedient for him to 
 begin, in this sense, a new life. He had 
 lost his mate; the young birds were full- 
 fledged and had taken flight; and it was 
 time that he should look out a retreat for 
 himself and the single nestling that remained 
 under his wing, now that his son and suc- 
 cessor had brought home a wife. The 
 marriage had been altogether with his ap- 
 probation ; but it altered his position in the 
 house, and in a still greater degree his 
 sister's ; moreover, the nest would soon be 
 wanted for another brood. Circumstances 
 thus compelled him to put in effect what had 
 been the dream of his youth, and the still 
 remote intention of his middle age. 
 
 Miss Allison, like her brother, regarded 
 this removal as a great and serious change, 
 preparatory to the only greater one in this 
 world that now remained for both ; but like 
 him she regarded it rather seriously than 
 sadly, or sadly only in the old sober meaning 
 of the word ; and there was a soft, sweet, 
 evening sunshine in their prospect, which 
 both partook, because both had retained a 
 deep affection for the scenes of their child- 
 
 hood. To Betsey, her niece, nothing could 
 be more delightful than the expectation of 
 such a removal. She, who was then only 
 entering her teens, had nothing to regret in 
 leaving London ; and the place to which she 
 was going was the very spot which, of all 
 others in this wide world, from the time in 
 which she was conscious of forming a wish, 
 she had wished most to see. Her brother, 
 the sailor, was not more taken with the 
 story of Pocahontas and Captain Smith, or 
 Dampier's Voyages, than she was with her 
 aunt's details of the farm and the dairy at 
 Thaxted Grange, the May-games and the 
 Christmas gambols, the days that were gone, 
 and the elders who were departed. To one 
 born and bred in the heart of London, who 
 had scarcely ever seen a flock of sheep, 
 except when they were driven through the 
 streets, to or from Smithfield, no fairy tale 
 could present more for the imagination than 
 a description of green fields and rural life. 
 The charm of truth heightened it, and the 
 stronger charm of natural piety; for the 
 personages of the tale were her near kin, 
 whose names she had learned to love, and 
 whose living memory she revered, but whose 
 countenances she never could behold till she 
 should be welcomed by them in the ever- 
 lasting mansions of the righteous. 
 
 None of the party were disappointed 
 when they had established themselves at the 
 Grange. Mr. Allison found full occupation 
 at first in improving the house, and after- 
 wards in his fields and garden. Mr. Bacon 
 was just such a clergyman as he would have 
 chosen for his parish priest, if it had been 
 in his power to choose, only he would have 
 had him provided with a better benefice. 
 The single thing on which there was a want 
 of agreement between them, was, that the 
 Vicar neither smoked nor took snuff; he 
 was not the worse company on this account, 
 for he had no dislike to the fragrance of a 
 pipe; but his neighbour lost the pleasure 
 which he would have had in supplying him 
 with the best pig-tail, and with Strasburg 
 or Rappee. Miss Allison fell into the habits 
 of her new station the more easily, because 
 they were those which she had witnessed in
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 231 
 
 her early youth ; she distilled waters, dried 
 herbs, and prepared conserves, which were 
 at the service of all who needed them in 
 sickness. Betsey attached herself at first 
 sight to Deborah, who was about five years 
 elder, and soon became to her as a sister. 
 The Aunt rejoiced in finding so suitable a 
 friend and companion for her niece ; and 
 as this connexion was a pleasure and an 
 advantage to the Allisons, so was it of the 
 greatest benefit to Deborah. 
 
 What of her ensues 
 I list not prophecy, but let Time's news 
 Be known, when 'tis brought forth. Of this allow 
 If ever you have spent time worse ere now ; 
 If never yet, the Author then doth say 
 He wishes earnestly you never may.* 
 
 INTERCIIArTER XL 
 
 ADVICE TO CERTAIN READERS INTENDED 
 TO ASSIST THEIR DIGESTION OF THESE 
 VOLUMES. 
 
 Take this in good part, whosoever thou be, 
 And wish me no worse than I wish unto thee. 
 
 TUSSER. 
 
 THE wisest of men hath told us that there is 
 a time for everything. I have been con- 
 sidering what time is fittest for studying 
 this elaborate opus, so as best to profit by 
 its recondite stores of instruction, as the 
 great chronicler of Garagantua says, avec 
 espoir certain (Tacquerrir moult prudence el 
 preucChommie a la ditte lecture, la quelle vous 
 relevera de tres-hauts sacrements et mys- 
 teres horrifiques. 
 
 The judicious reader must ere this have 
 perceived that this work, to use the happy 
 expression of the Demoiselle de Gournay, is 
 edifie de telle sort que les mots et la matiere 
 sont consubstantiels. In one sense indeed it is 
 
 Meet for all hours and every mood of man ; t 
 
 but all hours are not equally meet for it. 
 For it is not like Sir Walter Scott's novels, 
 fit for men, women and children, at morn- 
 ing, noon, or night, summer and winter, 
 
 * SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 t DR. BUTT. 
 
 and every day, among all sorts of people, 
 Sundays excepted with the religious public. 
 Equally sweet in the mouth it may be to 
 some ; but it will not be found equally light 
 of digestion. 
 
 Whether it should be taken upon an 
 empty stomach, must depend upon the con- 
 stitution of the reader. If he is of that 
 happy complexion that he awakes in the 
 morning with his spirits elastic as the air, 
 fresh as the dawn, and joyous as the sky- 
 lark, let him by all means read a chapter 
 before breakfast. It will be a carminative, 
 a cordial for the day. If, on the contrary, 
 his faculties continue to feel the influence of 
 the leaden sceptre till breakfast has resusci- 
 tated them, I advise him not to open the 
 book before the stomach has been propitiated 
 by a morning offering. 
 
 Breakfast will be the best time for bache- 
 lors, and especially for lawyers. They will 
 find it excellent to prime with. 
 
 I do not recommend it at night. Rather, 
 indeed, I caution the reader against indulg- 
 ing in it at that time. Its effect might be 
 injurious, for it would counteract the genial 
 tendency to repose which ought then to be 
 encouraged. Therefore when the hour of 
 sleep approaches, lay this book aside, and 
 read four pages upon political economy, 
 it matters not in what author, though the 
 Scotch are to be preferred. 
 
 Except at night, it may be perused at any 
 time by those who have the mens sana in 
 corpore sano ; those who fear God, honour 
 the King, love their country and their kind, 
 do their duty to their neighbours, and live 
 in the performance and enjoyment of the 
 domestic charities. 
 
 It will be an excellent Saturday book for 
 Rowland Hill ; his sermon will be pleasanter 
 for it next day. 
 
 The book is good for valetudinarians, and 
 may even be recommended in aid of Aber- 
 nethy's blue-pill. But I do -not advise it 
 with water-gruel nor sago ; hardly with 
 chicken-broth, calfs-foot-jelly, or beef-tea. 
 It accords well with a course of tonics. But 
 a convalescent will find it best with his first 
 beef-steak and glass of wine.
 
 232 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 The case is different for those who have 
 either a twist in the head or a morbid affec- 
 tion about the pericardium. 
 
 If Grey Bennet will read it, (from 
 which I dehort him), he should prepare 
 by taking the following medicine to purge 
 choler : 
 
 9=. Extract : Colocynth : Comp : gr. x. 
 Calomel: gr. v. 
 
 Syr : q. s.f. Massa in piMaa iij divi- 
 denda. Sumat pilulas iij hard somni. 
 
 It will do Lord Holland no harm. 
 
 Lord John Russell is recommended to use 
 sage tea with it. If this operate as an altera- 
 tive, it may save him from taking oil of rue 
 hereafter in powerful doses. 
 
 For Mr. Brougham a strong decoction 
 of the herb lunaria will be needful, a 
 plant " elegantly so named by the elder 
 botanists, and by all succeeding ones, 
 from tuna, the moon, on account of the 
 silvery semi-transparent aspect, and broad 
 circular shape of its seed-vessels." Honesty, 
 or satin-flower, are its trivial names. It is 
 recommended in this case not so much for 
 the cephalic properties which its Linnean 
 appellation might seem to denote, as for its 
 emollient and purifying virtue. 
 
 The Lord Chancellor must never read it 
 in his wig. Dr. Parr, never without it. 
 
 Mr. Wilberforce may dip into it when he 
 will. At all times it will find him in good 
 humour, and in charity with all men. Nay, 
 if I whisper to him that it will be no sin to 
 allow himself, a few pages on a Sunday, and 
 that if the preacher, under whom he has 
 been sitting, should have given his dis- 
 course a strong spice of Calvinism, it may 
 then be useful to have recourse to it ; 
 though he should be shocked at the whole- 
 some hint, the worst thing he will say of the 
 incognisable incognito from whom it comes, 
 will be Poo-oo-oo-r cree-ee-eature ! shaking 
 his head, and lowering it at the same tune, 
 till his forehead almost touches the table, 
 and his voice, gradually quickening in speed 
 and sinking in tone, dies away to a whisper, 
 in a manner which may thus be represented 
 in types; 
 
 Pooo-oo-oo-oo-r Creeeature 
 
 Poo-oo-oo-oo-r Creeature 
 
 Poo-oo-oo-r Creature 
 
 Po5-oo-r Creature 
 
 Poooor Creature 
 
 Pooor Creature 
 
 Pour Creature 
 
 Poor Creture 
 
 Poor Cretur 
 
 Poor Crtur 
 
 Poo Crtr 
 
 Poo Crt 
 
 CHAPTER CH. 
 
 MORE CONCERNING THE AFORESAID 
 TOBACCONIST. 
 
 I doubt nothing at all but that you shall like the man 
 every day better than other ; for verily I think he lacketh 
 not of those qualities which should become any honest 
 man to have, over and besides the gift of nature where- 
 with God hath above the common rate endued him. 
 
 ARCHBISHOP CKANMEB. 
 
 MR. ALLISON was as quiet a subject as Peter 
 Hopkins, but he was not like him a political 
 quietist from indifference, for he had a warm 
 sense of loyalty, and a well-rooted attach- 
 ment to the constitution of his country in 
 church and state. His ancestors had suffered 
 in the Great Rebellion, and much the greater 
 part of their never large estates had been 
 alienated to raise the fines imposed upon 
 them as delinquents. The uncle, whom he 
 succeeded in Bishopsgate Street, had, in his 
 early apprenticeship, assisted at burning the 
 Rump, and in maturer years had joined as 
 heartily in the rejoicings, when the Seven 
 Bishops were released from the Tower : he 
 subscribed to Walker's "Account of the 
 Sufferings of the Clergy," and had heard 
 sermons preached by the famous Dr. Scott, 
 (which were afterwards incorporated in his 
 great work tipon the Christian Life,) in the 
 church of St. Peter-le-Poor (oddly so called, 
 seeing that there are few districts within 
 the City of London so rich, insomuch that 
 
 N
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 233 
 
 the last historian of the metropolis believed 
 the parish to have scarcely a poor family in 
 it), and in All-hallows, Lombard Street, 
 where, during the reign of the Godly, the 
 puritanical vestry passed a resolution that 
 if any persons should come to the church 
 " on the day called Christ's birth-day," they 
 should be compelled to leave it. 
 
 In these principles Mr. Allison had grown 
 up ; and without any profession of extra- 
 religion, or ever wearing a sanctified face, 
 he had in the evening of his life attained 
 " the end of the commandment, which is 
 charity, proceeding from a pure heart, and 
 a good conscience, and a faith unfeigned." 
 London in his days was a better school for 
 young men in trade than it ever was before, 
 or has been since. The civic power had 
 quietly and imperceptibly put an end to that 
 club-law which once made the apprentices 
 a turbulent and formidable body, at any 
 moment armed as well as ready for a riot ; and 
 masters exercised a sort of parental control 
 over the youth entrusted to them, which in 
 later times it may be feared has not been so 
 conscientiously exerted, because it is not 
 likely to be so patiently endured. Trade 
 itself had not then been corrupted by that 
 ruinous spirit of competition, which, more 
 than any other of the evils now pressing 
 upon us, deserves to be called the curse of 
 England in the present age. At all times 
 men have been to be found, who engaged in 
 hazardous speculations, gamester-like, ac- 
 cording to their opportunities, or who, mis- 
 taking the means for the end, devoted them- 
 selves with miserable fidelity to the service 
 of Mammon. But " Live and let live," had 
 not yet become a maxim of obsolete morality. 
 We had our monarchy, our hierarchy, and our 
 aristocracy, God be praised for the bene- 
 fits which have been derived from all three, 
 and God in his mercy continue them to us ! 
 but we had no plutarchy, no millionaires, no 
 groat capitalists to break down the honest 
 and industrious trader with the weight of 
 their overbearing and overwhelming wealth. 
 They who had enriched themselves in the 
 course of regular and honourable commerce 
 withdrew from business, and left the field 
 
 to others. Feudal, tyranny had passed away, 
 and moneyed tyranny had not yet arisen in 
 its stead a tyranny baser in its origin, not 
 more merciful in its operations, and with 
 less in its appendages to redeem it. 
 
 Trade in Mr. Allison's days was a school 
 of thrift and probity, as much as of profi ( 
 and loss ; such his shop had been when ho 
 succeeded to it upon his uncle's decease, an; I 
 such it continued to be when he transmitted 
 it to his son. Old Mr. Strahan the printer 
 (the founder of his typarchical dynasty) saiu 
 to Dr. Johnson, that " there are few ways 
 in which a man can be more innocently em- 
 ployed than in getting money ; " and he 
 added, that " the more one thinks of this 
 the juster it will appear." Johnson agreed 
 with him ; and though it was a money- 
 maker's observation, and though the more 
 it is considered now, the more fallacious it 
 will be found, the general system of trade 
 might have justified it at that time. The 
 entrance of an Exciseman never occasioned 
 any alarm or apprehension at No. 113. 
 Bishopsgate- Street- Within, nor any uncom- 
 fortable feeling, unless the officer happened 
 to be one, who, by giving unnecessary 
 trouble, and by gratuitous incivility in the 
 exercise of authority, made an equitable law 
 odious in its execution. They never there 
 mixed weeds with their tobacco, nor adul- 
 terated it in any worse way ; and their snufF 
 was never rendered more pungent by stir- 
 ring into it a certain proportion of pounded 
 glass. The duties were honestly paid, with 
 a clear perception that the impost fell lightly 
 upon all whom it affected, and affected those 
 only who chose to indulge themselves in a 
 pleasure which was still cheap, and which, 
 without any injurious privation, they might 
 forego. Nay, when our good man expatiated 
 upon the uses of tobacco, which Mr. Bacon 
 demurred at, and the Doctor sometimes play- 
 fully disputed, he ventured an opinion that 
 among the final causes for which so excellent 
 an herb had been created, the facilities 
 afforded by it toward raising the revenue in 
 a well-governed country like our^own might 
 be one. 
 
 There was a strong family likeness be-
 
 234 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 tween him and his sister, both in countenance 
 and disposition. Elizabeth Allison was a 
 person for whom the best and wisest man 
 might have thanked Providence, if she had 
 been allotted to him for help-mate. But 
 though she had, in Shakespeare's language, 
 " withered on the virgin thorn," hers had 
 not been a life of single blessedness : she 
 had been a blessing first to her parents ; then 
 to her brother and her brother's family, 
 where she relieved an amiable, but sickly 
 sister-in-law, from those domestic offices 
 which require activity and forethought ; 
 lastly, after the dispersion of his sons, the 
 transfer of the business to the eldest, and the 
 breaking-up of his old establishment, to the 
 widower and his daughter, the only child 
 who cleaved to him, not like Ruth to 
 Naomi, by a meritorious act of duty, for in 
 her case it was in the ordinary course of 
 things, without either sacrifice or choice ; 
 but the effect in endearing her to him was 
 the same. 
 
 In advanced stages of society and no- 
 where more than in England at this time, the 
 tendency of all things is to weaken the re- 
 lations between parent and child, and fre- 
 quently to destroy them, reducing human 
 nature in this respect nearer to the level of 
 animal life. Perhaps the greater number 
 of male children who are " born into the 
 world" in our part of it, are put out at as 
 early an age, proportionately as the young 
 bird is driven from its nest, or the young 
 beast turned off by its dam as being capable 
 of feeding and protecting itself; and in 
 many instances they are as totally lost to the 
 parent, though not in like manner forgotten. 
 Mr. Allison never saw all his children together 
 after his removal from London. The only 
 time when his three sons met at the Grange 
 was when they came there to attend their 
 father's funeral ; nor would they then have 
 been assembled, if the Captain's ship had not 
 happened to have recently arrived in port. 
 
 This is a state of things more favourable 
 to the wealth than to the happiness of na- 
 tions. It was a natural and pious custom 
 in patriarchal times that the dead should be 
 gathered unto their people. " Bury me," 
 
 said Jacob, when he gave his dying charge 
 to his sons, " bury me with my fathers, in 
 the cave that is in the field of Machpelah, 
 which is before Mamre in the land of Ca- 
 naan, which Abraham bought with the field 
 of Ephron the Hittite, for a possession of a 
 burying place. There they buried Abraham 
 and Sarah his wife ; there they buried Isaac 
 and Rebecca his wife ; and there I buried 
 Leah." Had such a passage occurred in 
 Homer, or in Dante, all critics would have 
 concurred in admiring the truth and beauty 
 of the sentiment. He had buried his be- 
 loved Rachel by the way where she died ; 
 but although he remembered this at his 
 death, the orders which he gave were that 
 his own remains should be laid in the sepul- 
 chre of his fathers. The same feeling pre- 
 vails among many, or most of those savage 
 tribes who are not utterly degraded. With 
 them the tree is not left to lie where it falls. 
 The body of one who dies on an expedition 
 is interred on the spot, if distance or other 
 circumstances render it inconvenient to 
 transport the corpse ; but, however long the 
 journey, it is considered as a sacred duty 
 that the bones should at some time or other 
 be brought home. In Scotland, where the 
 common rites of sepulture are performed 
 with less decency than in any other Chris- 
 tian country, the care with which family 
 burial-grounds in the remoter parts are pre- 
 served, may be referred as much to natural 
 feeling as to hereditary pride. 
 
 But as indigenous flowers are eradicated 
 by the spade and plough, so this feeling is 
 destroyed in the stirring and bustling inter- 
 course of commercial life. No room is left 
 for it : as little of it at this time remains in 
 wide America as in thickly-peopled En- 
 gland. That to which soldiers and sailors 
 are reconciled by the spirit of their profes- 
 sion and the chances of war and of the seas, 
 the love of adventure and the desire of 
 advancement cause others to regard with 
 the same indifference ; and these motives are 
 so prevalent, that the dispersion of families 
 and the consequent disruption of natural 
 ties, if not occasioned by necessity, would 
 now in most instances be the effect of
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 235 
 
 choice. Even those to whom it is an inevi- 
 table evil, and who feel it deeply as such, 
 look upon it as something in the appointed 
 course of things, as much as infirmity and 
 age and death. 
 
 It is well for us that in early life we never 
 think of the vicissitudes which lie before us; 
 or look to them only with pleasurable anti- 
 cipations as they approach. 
 
 Youth 
 
 Knows nought of changes : Age hath traced them oft, 
 Expects and can interpret them.* 
 
 The thought of them, when it comes across 
 us in middle life, brings with it only a tran- 
 sient sadness, like the shadow of a passing 
 cloud. We turn our eyes from them while 
 they are in prospect, but when they are in 
 retrospect many a longing lingering look is 
 cast behind. So long as Mr. Allison was in 
 business he looked to Thaxted Grange as 
 the place where he hoped one day to enjoy 
 the blessings of retirement, that otium cum 
 dignitate, which in a certain sense the pru- 
 dent citizen is more likely to attain than the 
 successful statesman. It was the pleasure 
 of recollection that gave this hope its zest 
 and its strength. But after the object which 
 during so many years he had held in view 
 had been obtained, his day-dreams, if he 
 had allowed them to take their course, would 
 have recurred more frequently to Bishops- 
 gate- Street than they had ever wandered 
 from thence to the scenes of his boyhood. 
 They recurred thither oftener than he 
 wished, although few men have been more 
 masters of themselves ; and then the remem- 
 brance of his wife, whom he had lost by a 
 lingering disease in middle age ; and of the 
 children, those who had died during their 
 childhood, and those who in reality were 
 almost as much lost to him in the ways of 
 the world, made him alway turn for comfort 
 to the prospect of that better state of exist- 
 ence in which they should once more all be 
 gathered together, and where there would 
 be neither change nor parting. His thoughts 
 often fell into this train, when on summer 
 evenings he was taking a solitary pipe in his 
 
 * ISAAC COMMENTS. 
 
 arbour, with the church in sight, and the 
 churchyard wherein at no distant time he 
 was to be laid in his last abode. Such 
 musings induced a sense of sober piety, 
 of thankfulness for former blessings, con- 
 tentment with the present, and humble yet 
 sure and certain hope for futurity, which 
 might vainly have been sought at prayer- 
 meetings, or evening lectures, where indeed 
 little good can ever be obtained without 
 some deleterious admixture, or alloy of 
 baser feelings. 
 
 The happiness which he had found in re- 
 tirement was of a different kind from what 
 he had contemplated : for the shades of 
 evening were gathering when he reached 
 the place of his long-wished-for rest, and 
 the picture of it which had imprinted itself 
 on his imagination was a morning view. 
 But he had been prepared for this by that 
 slow change of which we are not aware 
 during its progress till we see it reflected in 
 others, and are thus made conscious of it in 
 ourselves ; and he found a satisfaction in the 
 station which he occupied there, too worthy 
 in its nature to be called pride, and which 
 had not entered into his anticipations. It is 
 said to have been a saying of George the 
 Third, that the happiest condition in which 
 an Englishman could be placed, was just 
 below that wherein it would have been 
 necessary for him to act as a Justice of the 
 Peace, and above that which would have 
 rendered him liable to parochial duties. 
 This was just Mr. Allison's position : there 
 was nothing which brought him into rivalry 
 or competition with the surrounding Squir- 
 archy, and the yeomen and peasantry re- 
 spected him for his own character, as well as 
 for his name's-sake. He gave employment 
 to more persons than when he was engaged 
 in trade, and his indirect influence over 
 them was greater ; that of his sister was still 
 more. The elders of the village remem- 
 bered her in her youth, and loved her for 
 what she then had been as well as for what 
 she now was ; the young looked up to her 
 as the Lady Bountiful, to whom no one that 
 needed advice or assistance ever applied in 
 vain. She it was who provided those much-
 
 236 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 approved plum cakes, not the less savoury 
 for being both homely and wholesome, the 
 thought of which induced the children to 
 look on to their Lent examination with hope, 
 and prepare for it with alacrity. Those 
 offices in a parish which are the province 
 of the Clergyman's wife, when he has made 
 choice of one who knows her duty and has 
 both will and ability to discharge it, Miss 
 Allison performed; and she rendered Mr. 
 Bacon the farther, and to him individually 
 the greater, service of imparting to his 
 daughter those instructions which she had 
 no mother to impart. Deborah could not 
 have had a better teacher ; but as the pre- 
 sent chapter has extended to a sufficient 
 length, 
 
 Diremo il rcsto in quel eke vien dt'poi, 
 Per non venire a noja amee voi.* 
 
 CHAPTER Cm. 
 
 A FEW PARTICULARS CONCERNING NO. 113. 
 BISHOPSG ATE -STREET -WITHIN ; AND OF 
 THE FAMILY AT THAXTED GRANGE. 
 
 Opinion is the rate of things, 
 From hence our peace rtoth flow ; 
 
 I have a better fate than kings, 
 Because 1 think it so. 
 
 KATHARINE PHILIPS. 
 
 THE house wherein Mr. Allison realised by 
 fair dealing and frugality the modest fortune 
 which enabled him to repurchase the home- 
 stead of his fathers, is still a Tobacconist's, 
 and has continued to be so from " the palmy 
 days " of that trade, when King James vainly 
 endeavoured by the expression of his royal 
 dislike, to discountenance the newly-im- 
 ported practice of smoking ; and Joshua 
 Sylvester thundered from Mount Helicon 
 a Volley of Holy Shot, thinking that thereby 
 " Tobacco " should be " battered, and the 
 Pipes shattered, about their ears thatr idly 
 idolize so base and barbarous a weed, or at 
 least-wise overlove so loathsome vanity ."f 
 For he said, 
 
 ORLAMW INNAMORATO. 
 
 f Old Burton's was a modified opinion. See Anatomic 
 of Melancholy, part ii. 2. mem. 2. subs. 2. 
 
 If there be any Herb in any place 
 
 Must opposite to God's good Herb of Grace, 
 
 "Tis doubtless this ; and this doth plainly prove it, 
 
 That for the most, most graceless men do love it. 
 
 Yet it was not long before the dead and 
 unsavoury odour of that weed, to which a 
 Parisian was made to say that "sea- coal 
 smoke seemed a very Portugal perfume," 
 prevailed as much in the raiment of the 
 more coarsely-clad part of the community, 
 as the scent of lavender among those who 
 were clothed in fine linen, and fared sump- 
 tuously every day : and it had grown so 
 much in fashion, that it was said children 
 " began to play with broken pipes, instead 
 of corals, to make way for their teeth." 
 
 Louis XIV. endeavoured just as ineffec- 
 tually to discourage the use of snuff-taking. 
 His valets de charribre were obliged to re- 
 nounce it when they were appointed to their 
 office ; and the Duke of Harcourt was sup- 
 posed to have died of apoplexy in conse- 
 quence of having, to please his Majesty, left 
 off at once a habit which he had carried to 
 excess. 
 
 I know not through what intermediate 
 hands the business at No. 113. has passed, 
 since the name of Allison was withdrawn 
 from the firm ; nor whether Mr. Evans, by 
 whom it is now carried on there, is in any 
 way related by descent with that family. 
 Matters of no greater importance to most 
 men have been made the subject of much 
 antiquarian investigation ; and they who 
 busy themselves in such investigations must 
 not be said to be ill-employed, for they find 
 harmless amusement in the pursuit, and 
 sometimes put up a chance truth of which 
 others, soon or late, discover the application. 
 The house has at this time a more antiquated 
 appearance than any other in that part of 
 the street, though it was modernised some 
 forty or fifty years after Mr. Bacon's friend 
 left it. The first floor then projected several 
 feet farther over the street than at present, 
 and the second several feet farther over the 
 first ; and the windows, which still extend the 
 whole breadth of the front, were then com- 
 posed of small casement panes. But in the 
 progress of those improvements which are 
 now carrying on in the city with as much
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 237 
 
 spirit as at the western end of the metro- 
 polis, and which have almost reached Mr. 
 Evans's door, it cannot be long before the 
 house will be either wholly removed, or so 
 altered as no longer to be recognised. 
 
 The present race of Londoners little know 
 what the appearance of the city was a cen- 
 tury ago; their own city, I was about to 
 have said ; but it was the city of their great 
 grandfathers, not theirs, from which the 
 elder Allisons retired in the year 1746. At 
 that time the kennels (as in Paris) were in 
 the middle of the street, and there were no 
 foot-paths ; spouts projected the rain-water 
 in streams against which umbrellas, if um- 
 brellas had been then in use, could have 
 afforded no defence ; and large signs, such 
 as are now only to be seen at country inns, 
 were suspended before every shop * , from 
 posts which impeded the way, or from iron 
 supports strongly fixed into the front of the 
 house. The swinging of one of these broad 
 signs, in a high wind, and the weight of the 
 iron on which it acted, sometimes brought 
 the wall down ; and it is recorded that one 
 front-fall of this kind in Fleet Street maimed 
 several persons, and killed " two young 
 ladies, a cobler, and the King's Jeweller." 
 
 The sign at No. 113. was an Indian Chief, 
 smoking the calumet. Mr. Allison had found 
 it there ; and when it became necessary that 
 a new one should be substituted, he retained 
 the same figure, though, if he had been to 
 choose, he would have greatly preferred the 
 head of Sir Walter Raleigh, by whom, ac- 
 cording to the common belief, he supposed 
 tobacco had been introduced into this coun- 
 try. The Water-Poet imputed it to the 
 Devil himself, and published 
 
 A Proclamation, 
 
 Or Approbation, 
 
 From the King of Execration 
 
 To every Nation, 
 For Tobacco's propagation. 
 
 Mr. Allison used to shake his head at such 
 libellous aspersions. Raleigh was a great 
 favourite with him, and held, indeed, in es- 
 
 * The counting of these signs " from Temple Bar to 
 the furthest Conduit in Cheapside," &c., is quoted as a 
 remarkable instance of Fuller's Memory. Life, &c. p. 76. 
 ED. 1GC2. 
 
 pecial respect, though not as the Patron of 
 his old trade, as St. Crispin is of the Gentle 
 Craft, yet as the founder of his fortune. He 
 thought it proper, therefore, that he should 
 possess Sir Walter's History of the World, 
 though he had never found inclination, or 
 summoned up resolution, to undertake its 
 perusal. 
 
 Common sense has been defined by Sir 
 Egerton Brydges, " to mean nothing more 
 than an uneducated judgement, arising from 
 a plain and coarse understanding, exercised 
 upon common concerns, and rendered effec- 
 tive rather by experience, than by any re- 
 gular process of the intellectual powers. If 
 this," he adds, " be the proper meaning of 
 that quality, we cannot wonder that books 
 are little fitted for its cultivation." Except 
 that there was no coarseness in his nature, 
 this would apply to Mr. Allison. He had 
 been bred up with the notion that it be- 
 hoved him to attend to his business, and 
 that reading formed no part of it. Never- 
 theless he had acquired some liking for 
 books by looking casually now and then 
 over the leaves of those unfortunate volumes 
 with which the shop was continually sup- 
 plied for its daily consumption. 
 
 Many a load of criticism, 
 
 Elaborate products of the midnight toil 
 Of Belgian brains,* 
 
 went there ; and many a tome of old law, 
 old physic, and old divinity ; old history as 
 well ; books of which many were at all times 
 rubbish ; some, which though little better, 
 would now sell for more shillings by the 
 page than they then cost pence by the 
 pound ; and others, the real value of which 
 is perhaps as little known now, as it was 
 then. Such of these as in latter years 
 caught his attention, he now and then res- 
 cued from the remorseless use to which 
 they had been condemned. They made a 
 curious assortment with his wife's books of 
 devotion or amusement, wherewith she had 
 sometimes beguiled, and sometimes soothed 
 the weary hours of long and frequent illness. 
 Among the former were Scott's " Christian
 
 238 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Life," Bishop Bayly's " Practice of Piety," 
 Bishop Taylor's " Holy Living and Dying," 
 Drelincourt on Death, with De Foe's lying 
 story of Mrs. Veal's ghost as a puff pre- 
 liminary, and the Night Thoughts. Among 
 the latter were Cassandra, the Guardian and 
 Spectator, Mrs. Howe's Letters, Richard- 
 son's Novels and Pomfret's Poems. 
 
 Mrs. Allison had been able to do little 
 for her daughter of that little, which, if her 
 state of health and spirits had permitted, she 
 might have done ; this, therefore, as well as 
 the more active duties of the household, 
 devolved upon Elizabeth, who was of a 
 better constitution in mind as well as body. 
 Elizabeth, before she went to reside with 
 her brother, had acquired all the accom- 
 plishments which a domestic education in 
 the country could in those days impart. 
 Her book of receipts, culinary and medical, 
 might have vied with the " Queen's 
 Cabinet Unlocked." The spelling indeed 
 was such as ladies used in the reign of Queen 
 Anne, and in the old time before her, when 
 every one spelt as she thought fit ; but it 
 was written in a well-proportioned Italian 
 hand, with fine down-strokes and broad up- 
 ones, equally distinct and beautiful. Her 
 speech was good Yorkshire, that is to say, 
 good provincial English, not the worse for 
 being provincial, and a little softened by 
 five-and-twenty years' residence in London. 
 Some sisters, who in those days kept a 
 boarding-school, of the first repute, in one 
 of the midland counties, used to say, when 
 they spoke of an old pupil, "her went to 
 school to we." Miss Allison's language was 
 not of this kind, it savoured of rusticity, 
 not of ignorance ; and where it was peculiar, 
 as in the metropolis, it gave a raciness to 
 the conversation of an agreeable woman. 
 
 She had been well instructed in orna- 
 mental work as well as ornamental pen- 
 manship. Unlike most fashions, this had 
 continued to be in fashion because it con- 
 tinued to be of use ; though no doubt some 
 of the varieties which Taylor, the Water- 
 Poet, enumerates in his praise of the Needle, 
 might have been then as little understood 
 as now : 
 
 Tent-work, Raised-work, Laid-work, Prest-work, Net- 
 work, 
 
 Most curious Pearl, or rare Italian Cut-work, 
 Fine Fern-stitch, Finny-stitch, New-stitch and Chain- 
 stitch, 
 
 Brave Bred-stitch, Fisher-stitch, Irish-stitch and Queen- 
 stitch, 
 
 The Spanish-stitch, Rosemary-stitch and Maw-such, 
 The smarting Whip-stitch, Back-stitch and the Cross- 
 stitch. 
 
 AH these are good, and these we must allow ; 
 And these are every where in practice now. 
 
 There was a book published in the Water 
 Poet's days, with the title of " School House 
 for the Needle ;" it consisted of two volumes 
 in oblong quarto, that form being suited to 
 its plates " of sundry sorts of patterns and 
 examples ;" and it contained a " Dialogue 
 in Verse between Diligence and Sloth." If 
 Betsey Allison had studied in this " School 
 House," she could not have been a greater 
 proficient with the needle than she became 
 under her Aunt's teaching : nor would she 
 have been more 
 
 versed in the arts 
 
 Of pies, puddings, and tarts,* 
 
 if she had gone through a course of practical 
 lessons in one of the Pastry Schools which 
 are common in Scotland, but were tried 
 without success in London, about the middle 
 of the last century. Deborah partook of 
 these instructions at her father's desire. In 
 all that related to the delicacies of a country 
 table, she was glad to be instructed, because 
 it enabled her to assist her friend ; but it 
 appeared strange to her that Mr. Bacon 
 should wish her to learn ornamental work, 
 for which she neither had, nor could foresee 
 any use. But if the employment had been 
 less agreeable than she found it in such com- 
 pany, she would never have disputed, nor 
 questioned his will. 
 
 For so small a household, a more active 
 or cheerful one could nowhere have been 
 found than at the Grange. Ben Jonson 
 reckoned among the happinesses of Sir 
 Robert Wroth, that of being " with im- 
 bought provision blest." This blessing Mr. 
 Allison enjoyed in as great a degree as his 
 position in life permitted ; he neither killed 
 his own meat nor grew his own corn ; but 
 he had his poultry yard, his garden and his 
 
 T. WARTON.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 239 
 
 orchard ; he baked his own bread, brewed 
 his own beer, and was supplied with milk, 
 cream and butter from his own dairy. It is 
 a fact not unworthy of notice, that the most 
 intelligent farmers in the neighbourhood of 
 London are persons who have taken to 
 farming as a business, because of their strong 
 inclination for rural employments ; one of 
 the very best in Middlesex, when the Survey 
 of that County was published by the Board 
 of Agriculture, had been a Tailor. Mr. 
 Allison did not attempt to manage the land 
 which he kept in his own hands ; but he had 
 a trusty bailiff, and soon acquired knowledge 
 enough for superintending what was done. 
 When he retired from trade he gave over all 
 desire for gain, which indeed he had never 
 desired for its own sake ; he sought now only 
 wholesome occupation, and those comforts 
 which may be said to have a moral zest. 
 They might be called luxuries, if that word 
 could be used in a virtuous sense without 
 something so to qualify it. It is a curious 
 instance of the modification which words 
 undergo in different countries, that luxury 
 has always a sinful acceptation in the southern 
 languages of Europe, and lust an innocent 
 one in the northern ; the harmless meaning 
 of the latter word, we have retained in the 
 verb to list. 
 
 Every one who looks back upon the scenes 
 of his youth has one spot upon which the 
 last light of the evening sunshine rests. 
 The Grange was that spot in Deborah's re- 
 trospect. 
 
 CHAPTER CIV. 
 
 A REMARKABLE EXAMPLE, SHOWING THAT A 
 WISE MAN, WHEN HE RISES IN THE MORN- 
 ING, LITTLE KNOWS WHAT HE MAY DO 
 BEFORE NIGHT. 
 
 Now I love, 
 
 And so as in so short a time I may; 
 Yet so as time shall never break that so, 
 And therefore so accept of Elinor. 
 
 ROBERT GREENE. 
 
 ONE summer evening the Doctor on his way 
 back from a visit in that direction, stopped, as i 
 on such opportunities he usually did, at Mr. 
 
 Bacon's wicket, and looked in at the open 
 casement to see if his friends were within. 
 Mr. Bacon was sitting there alone, with a 
 book open on the table before him ; and 
 looking round when he heard the horse stop, 
 " Come in Doctor," said he, " if you have a 
 few minutes to spare. You were never more 
 welcome." 
 
 The Doctor replied, " I hope nothing ails 
 either Deborah or yourself?" "No," said 
 Mr. Bacon, "God be thanked! but some- 
 thing has occurred which concerns both." 
 
 When the Doctor entered the room, he 
 perceived that the wonted serenity of his 
 friend's countenance was overcast by a shade 
 of melancholy thought ; " Nothing," said 
 he, " I hope has happened to distress you ? " 
 " Only to disturb us," was the reply. 
 " Most people would probably think that we 
 ought to consider it a piece of good fortune. 
 One who would be thought a good match 
 for her, has proposed to marry Deborah." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said the Doctor ; " and who 
 is he?" feeling, as he asked the question, an 
 unusual warmth in his face. 
 
 " Joseph Hebblethwaite, of the Willows. 
 He broke his mind to me this morning, say- 
 ing that he thought it best to speak with me 
 before he made any advances himself to the 
 young woman : indeed he had had no oppor- 
 tunity of so doing, for he had seen little of 
 her ; but he had heard enough of her cha- 
 racter to believe that she would make him a 
 good wife; and this, he said, was all he 
 looked for, for he was well to do in the 
 world." 
 
 " And what answer did you make to this 
 matter-of-fact way of proceeding ?" 
 
 " I told him that I commended the very 
 proper course he had taken, and that I was 
 obliged to him for the good opinion of my 
 daughter which he was pleased to entertain : 
 that marriage was an affair in which I should 
 never attempt to direct her inclinations, 
 being confident that she would never give 
 me cause to oppose them ; and that I would 
 talk with her upon the proposal, and let him 
 know the result. As soon as I mentioned it 
 to Deborah, she coloured up to her eyes ; 
 and with an angry look, of which I did not
 
 240 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 think those eyes had been capable, she de- 
 sired me to tell him that he had better lose 
 no time in looking elsewhere, for his thinking 
 of her was of no use. ' Do you know any ill 
 of him ? ' said I ; ' No,' she replied, ' but I 
 never heard any good, and that's ill enough. 
 And I do not like his looks.' " 
 
 " Well said, Deborah ! " cried the Doctor : 
 clapping his hands so as to produce a sono- 
 rous token of satisfaction. 
 
 " 'Surely, my child,' said I, 'he is not an 
 ill-looking person?' 'Father,' she replied, 
 'you know he looks as if he had not one idea 
 in his head to keep company with another.' " 
 
 "Well said, Deborah!" repeated the 
 Doctor. 
 
 " Why Doctor, do you know any ill of 
 him?" 
 
 " None. But as Deborah says, I know 
 no good ; and if there had been any good to 
 be known, it must have come within my 
 knowledge. I cannot help knowing who the 
 persons are to whom the peasantry in my 
 rounds look with respect and good will, and 
 whom they consider their friends as well as 
 their betters. And in like manner, I know 
 who they are from whom they never expect 
 either courtesy or kindness." 
 
 " You are right, my friend ; and Deborah 
 is right. Her answer came from a wise 
 heart ; and I was not sorry that her deter- 
 mination was so promptly made, and so re- 
 solutely pronounced. But I wish, if it had 
 pleased God, the offer had been one which 
 she could have accepted with her own willing 
 consent, and with my full approbation." 
 
 " Yet," said the Doctor, " I have often 
 thought how sad a thing it would be for 
 you ever to part with her." 
 
 " Far more sad will it be for me to leave 
 her unprotected, as it is but too likely that, 
 in the ordinary course of nature, I one day 
 shall ; and as any day in that same ordinary 
 course, I so possibly may ! Our best inten- 
 tions, even when they have been most pru- 
 dentially formed, fail often in their issue. I 
 meant to train up Deborah in the way she 
 should go, by fitting her for that state of 
 life in which it had pleased God to place 
 her, so that she might have made a good 
 
 wife for some honest man in the humbler 
 walks of life, and have been happy with 
 him." 
 
 "And how was it possible," replied the 
 Doctor, " that you could have succeeded 
 better ? Is she not qualified to be a good 
 man's wife in any rank ? Her manner 
 would not do discredit to a mansion ; her 
 management would make a farm prosperous, 
 or a cottage comfortable ; and for her prin- 
 ciples, and temper and cheerfulness, they 
 would render any home a happy one." 
 
 " You have not spoken too highly in her 
 praise, Doctor. But as she has from her 
 childhood been all in all to me, there is a 
 danger that I may have become too much 
 so to her ; and that while her habits have 
 properly been made conformable to our poor 
 means, and her poor prospects, she has been 
 accustomed to a way of thinking, and a kind 
 of conversation, which have given her a dis- 
 taste for those whose talk is only of sheep 
 and of oxen, and whose thoughts never get 
 beyond the range of their every day em- 
 ployments. In her present circle, I do not 
 think there is one man with whom she 
 might otherwise have had a chance of set- 
 tling in life, to whom she would not have 
 the same intellectual objections as to Joseph 
 Hebblethwaite : though I am glad that the 
 moral objection was that which first in- 
 stinctively occurred to her. 
 
 " I wish it were otherwise, both for her 
 sake and my own ; for hers, because the 
 present separation would have more than 
 enough to compensate it, and would in its 
 consequences mitigate the evil of the final 
 one, whenever that may be ; for my own, 
 because I should then have no cause what- 
 ever to render the prospect of dissolution 
 otherwise than welcome, but be as willing 
 to die as to sleep. It is not owing to any 
 distrust in Providence, that I am not thus 
 willing now, God forbid! But if I gave 
 heed to my own feelings, I should think 
 that I am not long for this world ; and 
 surely it were wise to remove, if possible, 
 the only cause that makes me fear to think 
 so." 
 
 "Are you sensible of any symptoms that
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 241 
 
 can lead to such an apprehension ? " said the 
 Doctor. 
 
 "Of nothing that can be called a symptom. 
 I am to all appearance in good health, of 
 sound body and mind ; and you know how 
 unlikely my habits are to occasion any dis- 
 turbance in either. But I have indefinable 
 impressions, sensations they might almost 
 be called, which as I cannot but feel them, 
 so I cannot but regard them." 
 
 " Can you not describe these sensations ? " 
 
 " No better than by saying, that they 
 hardly amount to sensations, and are inde- 
 scribable." 
 
 " Do not," said the Doctor, " I entreat 
 you, give way to any feelings of this kind. 
 They may lead to consequences, which, 
 without shortening or endangering life, 
 would render it anxious and burthensome, 
 and destroy both your usefulness and your 
 comfort." 
 
 " I have this feeling, Doctor ; and you 
 shall prescribe for it, if you think it requires 
 either regimen or physic. But at present 
 you will do me more good by assisting me 
 to procure for Deborah such a situation as 
 she must necessarily look for on the event 
 of my death. What I have laid by, even if 
 it should be most advantageously disposed 
 of, would afford her only a bare subsistence ; 
 it is a resource in case of sickness, but while 
 in health, it would never be her wish to eat 
 the bread of idleness. You may have oppor- 
 tunities of learning whether any lady within 
 the circle of your practice wants a young 
 person in whom she might confide, either as 
 an attendant upon herself, or to assist in the 
 management of her children, or her house- 
 hold. You may be sure this is not the first 
 time that I have thought upon the subject ; 
 but the circumstance which has this day 
 occurred, and the feeling of which I have 
 spoken, have pressed it upon my considera- 
 tion. And the inquiry may better be made 
 and the step taken while it is a matter of 
 foresight, than when it has become one of 
 necessity." 
 
 " Let me feel your pulse ! " 
 
 " You will detect no other disorder there," 
 said Mr. Bacon, holding out his arm as he 
 
 spake, " than what has been caused by this 
 conversation, and the declaration of a pur- 
 pose, which though for some time perpended, 
 I had never till now fully acknowledged to 
 myself." 
 
 " You have never then mentioned it to 
 Deborah?" 
 
 " In no other way than by sometimes in- 
 cidentally speaking of the way of life which 
 would be open to her, in case of her being 
 unmarried at my death." 
 
 " And you have made up your mind to 
 part with her ? " 
 
 " Upon a clear conviction that I ought to 
 do so ; that it is best for herself and me." 
 
 " Well then, you will allow me to con- 
 verse with her first, upon a different sub- 
 ject. You will permit me to see whether 
 I can speak more successfully for myself, 
 than you have done for Joseph Hebble- 
 thwaite. Have I your consent?" 
 
 Mr. Bacon rose in great emotion, and 
 taking his friend's hand pressed it fervently 
 and tremulously. Presently they heard the 
 wicket open, and Deborah came in. 
 
 " I dare say, Deborah," said her father, 
 composing himself, " you have been telling 
 Betsy Allison of the advantageous offer that 
 you have this day refused." 
 
 " Yes," replied Deborah ; " and what do 
 you think she said? That little as she 
 likes him, rather than that I should be 
 thrown away upon such a man, she could 
 almost make up her mind to marry him 
 herself." 
 
 " And I," said the Doctor, " rather than 
 such a man should have you would marry 
 you myself." 
 
 "Was not I right in refusing him, 
 Doctor?" 
 
 " So right, that you never pleased me so 
 well before ; and never can please me bet- 
 ter, unless you will accept of me in his 
 stead." 
 
 She gave a little start, and looked at him 
 half incredulously, and half angrily withal ; 
 as if what he had said was too light in its 
 manner to be serious, and yet too serious in 
 its import to be spoken in jest. But when 
 he took her by the hand, and said, "Will
 
 242 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 you, dear Deborah ? " with a pressure, and 
 in a tone that left no doubt of his earnest 
 meaning, she cried, " Father, what am I to 
 say? speak for me!" "Take her, my 
 friend ! " said Mr. Bacon ; " My blessing be 
 upon you both. And if it be not pre- 
 sumptuous to use the words, let me say 
 for myself, ' Lord, now lettest thou thy 
 servant depart in peace ! ' " 
 
 CHAPTER CV. 
 
 A WORD Or NOBS, AND AN ALLUSION TO 
 CAESAR. SOME CIRCUMSTANCES RELATING 
 TO THE DOCTOR'S SECOND LOVE, WHEREBY 
 THOSE OF HIS THIRD AND LAST ARE AC- 
 COUNTED FOR. 
 
 Un mat que se enlra par media los ojos, 
 Y va se derecho hasta el corazon ; 
 Alii en ser ttegado se torna aficion, 
 Y da mil pesares, plazeres y enojoi : 
 Causa alegrias, tristezas, antojos ; 
 Haze Uorar, y haze reir, 
 Haze cantor, y haze planir, 
 Da pensamientos dos mil a manojos. 
 
 QUESTION DE AMOR. 
 
 " NOBS," said the Doctor, as he mounted 
 and rode away from Mr. Bacon's garden 
 gate, " when I alighted and fastened thee to 
 that wicket, I thought as little of what was 
 to befal me then, and what I was about to 
 do, as thou knowest of it now." 
 
 Man has an inward voice as well as an 
 " inward eye," * a voice distinct from that 
 of conscience. It is the companion, if not 
 " the bliss of solitude ; " * and though he 
 sometimes employs it to deceive himself, it 
 gives him good counsel perhaps quite as 
 often, calls him to account, reproves him 
 for having left unsaid what he ought to 
 have said, or for having said what he ought 
 not to have said, reprehends or approves, 
 admonishes or encourages. On this occa- 
 sion it was a joyful and gratulatory voice, 
 with which the Doctor spake mentally, first 
 to Nobs and afterwards to himself, as he 
 rode back to Doncaster. 
 
 * WORDSWORTH. 
 
 By this unuttered address the reader 
 would perceive, if he should haply have 
 forgotten what was intimated in some of the 
 ante-initial chapters, and in the first post- 
 initial one, that the Doctor had a horse, 
 named Nobs ; and the question Who was 
 Nobs, would not be necessary, if this were 
 all that was to be said concerning him. 
 There is much to be said ; the tongue that 
 could worthily express his merits had need 
 be like the pen of a ready writer; though I 
 will not say of him as Berni or Boiardo has 
 said of 
 
 quel valeroso e bel destriero, 
 
 Argalia's horse, Eubicano, that 
 
 Un che volesse dir lodando il vero, 
 Bisogno aria di parlor piu ch' umano. 
 
 At present, however, I shall only say this in 
 his praise, he was altogether unlike the 
 horse of whom it was said he had only two 
 faults, that of being hard to catch, and that 
 of being good for nothing when he was 
 caught. For whether in stable or in field, 
 Nobs would come like a dog to his master's 
 call. There was not a better horse for the 
 Doctor's purpose in all England ; no, nor in 
 all Christendom ; no, nor in all Houyhn- 
 hnmdom, if that country had been searched 
 to find one. 
 
 CcBsarem vehis, said Cajsar to the Egyp- 
 tian boatman. But what was that which the 
 Egyptian boat carried, compared to what 
 Nobs bore upon that saddle to which con- 
 stant use had given its polish bright and 
 brown ? 
 
 Virlutem solidi pectoris hospitam 
 Idem portal equus, qui dominum.\ 
 
 Nobs therefore carried all that is in these 
 volumes ; yea, and as all future generations 
 were, according to Madame Bourignon, 
 actually as well as potentially, contained 
 in Adam, all editions and translations of 
 them, however numerous. 
 
 But on that evening he carried something 
 of more importance ; for on the life and 
 weal of his rider there depended from that 
 hour, as far as its dependence was upon any- 
 
 t CASIMIR.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 243 
 
 thing earthly, the happiness of one of the 
 best men in the world, and of a daughter 
 who was not unworthy of such a father. If 
 the Doctor had been thrown from his horse 
 and killed, an hour or two earlier, the same 
 day, it would have been a dreadful shock 
 both to Deborah and Mr. Bacon ; and they 
 would always have regretted the loss of one 
 whose company they enjoyed, whose cha- 
 racter they respected, and for whom they 
 entertained a feeling of more than ordinary 
 regard. But had such a casualty occurred 
 now, it would have been the severest afflic- 
 tion that could have befallen them. 
 
 Yet till that hour Deborah had never 
 thought bf Dove as a husband, nor Dove of 
 Deborah as a wife that is, neither had 
 ever looked at the possibility of their being 
 one day united to each other in that rela- 
 tion. Deborah liked him, and he liked her ; 
 and beyond this sincere liking neither of 
 them for a moment dreamed that the inclina- 
 tion would ever proceed. They had not 
 fallen in love with each other ; nor had they 
 run in love, nor walked into it, nor been led 
 into it, nor entrapped into it ; nor had they 
 caught it. 
 
 How then came they to be in love at last? 
 The question may be answered by an inci- 
 dent which ]\Ir. John Davis relates in his 
 Travels of Four Years and a Half in the 
 United States of America. The traveller 
 was making his way "faint and wearily" 
 on foot to a place called by the strange name 
 of Frying Pan, for the Americans have 
 given all sorts of names, except fitting ones, 
 to the places which they have settled, or 
 discovered, and their Australian kinsmen 
 seem to be following the same absurd and 
 inconvenient course. It will occasion, here- 
 after, as much confusion as the sameness of 
 Mahommedan proper names, in all ages and 
 countries, causes in the history of all Mahom- 
 medan nations. Mr. Davis had walked till 
 he was tired without seeing any sign of the 
 place at which he expected long before to 
 have arrived. At length he met a lad in the 
 wilderness, and asked him, "how far, my 
 boy, is it to Frying Pan ? " The boy re- 
 plied, " you be in the Pan now." 
 
 So it was with the Doctor and with De- 
 borah ; they found themselves in love, as 
 much to their surprise as it was to the 
 traveller when he found himself in the Pan, 
 and much more to their satisfaction. And 
 upon a little after reflection they both per- 
 ceived how they came to be so. 
 
 There's a chain of causes 
 Link'd to effects, invincible necessity 
 That whate'er is, could not but so have been.* 
 
 Into such questions, however, I enter not. 
 " Nolo altum sapere" they be matters above 
 my capacity : the Cobler's check shall never 
 light on my head, "JVe sutor ultra crepi- 
 dam." f Opportunity, which makes thieves J, 
 makes lovers also, and is the greatest of all 
 match-makers. And when opportunity came, 
 the Doctor, 
 
 For tibbidir chi sempre ttbbidir debbe 
 La mente, 
 
 acted promptly. Accustomed as he was to 
 weigh things of moment in the balance, and 
 hold it with as even and as nice a hand, as 
 if he were compounding a prescription on 
 which the life of a patient might depend, he 
 was no shillishallier, nor ever wasted a pre- 
 cious minute in pro-and-conning, when it 
 was necessary at once to decide and act. 
 
 Chi ha tempo, e tempo aspetta, il tempo perde.ft 
 
 His first love, as the reader will remember, 
 came by inoculation, and was taken at first 
 sight. This third and last, he used to say, 
 came by inoculation also ; but it was a more 
 remarkable case, for eleven years elapsed 
 before there was an appearance of his having 
 taken the infection. How it happened that 
 an acquaintance of so many years, and which 
 at its very commencement had led to confi- 
 dence, and esteem, and familiarity, and friend- 
 ship, should have led no farther, may easily 
 be explained. Dove, when he first saw 
 Deborah, was in love with another person. 
 
 He had attended poor Lucy Bevan from 
 the eighteenth year of her age, when a ten- 
 
 DRYDEN. t THOMAS LODGE. 
 
 t Tilfaldgjbr Tju/en. Swedish Proverb. 
 PCLCI. I SBRAFINO DA L'AQUILA. 
 
 B 2
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 dencj to consumption first manifested itself 
 in her, till the twenty-fifth, when she sunk 
 under that slow and insidious malady. She, 
 who for five of those seven years, fancied 
 herself during every interval, or mitigation 
 of the disease, restored to health, or in the 
 way of recovery, had fixed her affections 
 upon him. And he who had gained those 
 affections by his kind and careful attend- 
 ance upon a case of which he soon saw cause 
 to apprehend the fatal termination, becom- 
 ing aware of her attachment as he became 
 more and more mournfully convinced that 
 no human skill could save her, found himself 
 unawares engaged in a second passion, as 
 hopeless as his first. That had been wilful ; 
 this was equally against his will and his 
 judgment : that had been a folly, this was 
 an affliction. And the only consolation 
 which he found in it was, that the conscious- 
 ness of loving and of being beloved, which 
 made him miserable, was a happiness to her 
 as long as she retained a hope of life, or was 
 capable of feeling satisfaction in anything 
 relating to this world. Caroline Bowles, 
 whom no authoress or author has ever sur- 
 passed in truth, and tenderness, and sanctity 
 of feeling, could relate such a story as it 
 ought to be related, if stories which in 
 themselves are purely painful ought ever to 
 be told. I will not attempt to tell it : for 
 I wish not to draw upon the reader's tears, 
 and have none to spare for it myself. 
 
 This unhappy attachment, though he never 
 spoke of it, being always but too certain in 
 what it must end, was no secret to Mr. 
 Bacon and his daughter : and when death 
 had dissolved the earthly tie, it seemed to 
 them, as it did to himself* that his affections 
 were wedded to the dead. It was likely that 
 the widower should think so, judging of his 
 friend's heart by his own. 
 
 Sorrow and Time will ever paint too well 
 
 The lost when hopeless, all things loved in vain.* 
 
 His feelings upon such a point had been ex- 
 pressed for him by a most prolific and un- 
 equal writer, whose poems, more perhaps 
 
 * ROBERT LANDOR. 
 
 than those of any other English author, de- 
 serve to be carefully winnowed, the grain, 
 which is of the best quality, being now lost 
 amid the heap of chaff. 
 
 Lord keep me faithful to the trust 
 Which my dear spouse reposed in me : 
 
 To her now dead, preserve me just 
 In all that should performed be. 
 
 For tho' our being man and wife 
 
 Extendeth only to this life, 
 
 Yet neither life nor death should end 
 
 The being of a faithful friend-t 
 
 The knowledge that the Doctor's heart was 
 thus engaged at the time of their first ac- 
 quaintance, had given to Deborah's inter- 
 course with him an easy frankness which 
 otherwise might perhaps not have been felt, 
 and could not have been assumed ; and the 
 sister-like feeling into which this had grown 
 underwent no change after Lucy Bevan's 
 death. He meantime saw that she was so 
 happy with her father, and supposed her 
 father's happiness so much depended upon 
 her, that to have entertained a thought of 
 separating them (even if the suitableness of 
 such a marriage in other respects had ever 
 entered into his imagination), would have 
 seemed to him like a breach of friendship. 
 Yet, if Mr. Bacon had died before he opened 
 his mind to the Doctor upon occasion of 
 Joseph Hebblethwaite's proposal, it is pro- 
 bable that one of the first means of consola- 
 tion which would have occurred to him, 
 would have been to offer the desolate daughter 
 a home, together with his hand ; so well was 
 he acquainted with her domestic merits, so 
 highly did he esteem her character, and so 
 truly did he admire the gifts with which 
 Nature had endowed her, 
 
 her sweet humour 
 
 That was as easy as a calm, and peaceful ; 
 All her affections, like the dews on roses, 
 Fair as the flowers themselves, as sweet and gentle.J 
 
 f WITHER. 
 
 BEAUMONT and FLETCHER.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 245 
 
 INTERCHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE AUTHOR REGRETS THAT HE CANNOT 
 MAKE HIMSELF KNOWN TO CERTAIN 
 READERS ; STATES THE POSSIBLE REASONS 
 
 FOR HIS SECRECY; MAKES NO USE IN so 
 
 DOING OF THE LICENCE WHICH HE SEEMS 
 TO TAKE OUT IN HIS MOTTO ; AND STATING 
 THE PRETENCES WHICH HE ADVANCES FOR 
 HIS WORK, DISCLAIMING THE WHILE ALL 
 MERIT FOR HIMSELF, MODESTLY PRESENTS 
 THEM UNDER A GRECIAN VEIL. 
 
 HERODOTUS. 
 
 THERE is more gratitude in the world than 
 the worldly believe, or than the ungrateful 
 are capable of believing. And knowing this, 
 1 consequently know how great a sacrifice I 
 make in remaining incognito. 
 
 Reputation is a bubble upon the rapid 
 stream of time ; popularity, a splash in the 
 great pool of oblivion ; fame itself but a full- 
 blown bladder, or at best a ballopn. There 
 is no sacrifice in declining them ; for in es- 
 caping these you escape the impertinences 
 and the intrusions which never fail to follow 
 in their train. But that this book will find 
 some readers after the Author's own heart 
 is certain ; they will lose something in not 
 knowing who the individual is with whom 
 they would delight to form a personal, as 
 they have already formed a moral and intel- 
 lectual friendship ; 
 
 For in this world, to reckon every thing, 
 Pleasure to man there is none comparable 
 
 As is to read with understanding 
 In books of wisdom, they ben so delectable 
 Which sound to virtue, and ben profitable.* 
 
 And though my loss is not of this kind, yet 
 it is great also, for in each of these unknown 
 admirers I lose the present advantage of a 
 well-wisher, and the possible, or even pro- 
 bable benefit of a future friend. 
 
 Eugenius ! Eusebius ! Sophron ! how 
 gladly would ye become acquainted with my 
 outward man, and commune with me face 
 to face ! How gladly would ye, Sophronial 
 Eusebia! Eugenia! 
 
 * TllEVISA, 
 
 With how radiant a countenance and how 
 light a step would Euphrosyne advance to 
 greet me ! with how benign an aspect would 
 Amanda silently thank me for having held 
 up a mirror in which she has unexpectedly 
 seen herself ! 
 
 Letitia's eyes would sparkle at the sight 
 of one whose writings had given her new 
 joy. Penserosa would requite me with a 
 gentle look for cheering her solitary hours, 
 and moving her sometimes to a placid smile, 
 sometimes to quiet and pleasurable tears. 
 
 And you, Marcellus, from whom your 
 friends, your country, and your kind have 
 everything to hope, how great a pleasure 
 do I forego by rendering it impossible for 
 you to seek me, and commence an acquaint- 
 ance with the sure presentiment that it 
 would ripen into confidence and friendship ! 
 
 There is another and more immediate 
 gratification which this resolution compels 
 me to forego, that of gratifying those per- 
 sons who, if they knew from whom the book 
 proceeded, would peruse it with heightened 
 zest for its author's sake ; old acquaint- 
 ance who would perceive in some of those 
 secondary meanings which will be under- 
 stood only by those for whom they were 
 intended, that though we have long been 
 widely separated, and probably are never 
 again to meet in this world, they are not 
 forgotten ; and old friends, who would take 
 a livelier interest in the reputation which 
 the work obtains, than it would now be pos- 
 sible for me to feel in it myself. 
 
 " And why, Sir," says an obliging and in- 
 quisitive reader, " should you deprive your 
 friends and acquaintance of that pleasure, 
 though you are willing to sacrifice it your- 
 self? " 
 
 "Why, Sir, do you ask ? " 
 
 Ah that is the mystery 
 Of this wonderful history, 
 And you wish that you could tell ! t 
 
 " A question not to be asked," said an 
 odder person than I shall ever pretend to 
 be, " is a question not to be answered." 
 
 Nevertheless, gentle reader, in courtesy I 
 
 t SOUTHEY.
 
 246 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 will give sundry answers to your interroga- 
 tion, and leave you to fix upon which of 
 them you may think likely to be the true 
 one. 
 
 The Author may be of opinion that his 
 name, not being heretofore known to the 
 public, could be of no advantage to his 
 book. 
 
 Or, on the other hand, if his name were 
 already well known, he might think the 
 book stands in no need of it, and may safely 
 be trusted to its own merits. He may wish 
 to secure for it a fairer trial than it could 
 otherwise obtain, and intend to profit by the 
 unbiassed opinions which will thus reach his 
 ear ; thinking complacently with Benedict, 
 that " happy are they that hear their de- 
 tractions, and can put them to mending." 
 In one of Metastasio's dramatic epithala- 
 miums, Minerva says, 
 
 I'onore, a cut 
 Venni proposta anch' io 
 Piu meritar, che consegair desio ; 
 
 and he might say this with the Goddess of 
 Wisdom. 
 
 He may be so circumstanced that it would 
 be inconvenient as well as unpleasant for 
 him to offend certain persons, Sir Andrew 
 Agnewites for example, whose conscien- 
 tious but very mischievous notions he never- 
 theless thinks it his duty to oppose, when 
 he can do so consistently with discretion. 
 
 He may have wagers dependent upon the 
 guesses that will be made concerning him. 
 
 Peradventure it might injure him in his 
 professional pursuits, were he to be known 
 as an author, and that he had neglected 
 " some sober calling for this idle trade." 
 
 He may be a very modest man, who can 
 muster courage enough for publication, and 
 yet dares not encounter any farther pub- 
 licity. 
 
 Unknown, perhaps bis reputation 
 Escapes the tax of defamation, 
 And wrapt in darkness, laughs unhurt, 
 While critic blockheads throw their dirt ; 
 But he who madly prints his name, 
 Invites his foe to take sure aim.* 
 
 He may be so shy, that if his book were 
 
 LLOYD. 
 
 praised he would shrink from the notoriety 
 into which it would bring him ; or so sensi- 
 tive, that his mortification would be extreme 
 if it were known among his neighbours that 
 he had been made the subject of sarcastic 
 and contemptuous criticism. 
 
 Or if he ever possessed this diffidence he 
 may have got completely rid of it in his 
 intercourse with the world, and have acquired 
 that easy habit of simulation without which 
 no one can take his degree as Master of 
 Arts in that great University. To hear the 
 various opinions concerning the book and 
 the various surmises concerning the author, 
 take part in the conversation, mystifying 
 some of his acquaintance and assist others 
 in mystifying themselves, may be more amus- 
 ing to him than any amusement of which he 
 could partake in his own character. There 
 are some secrets which it is a misery to 
 know, and some which the tongue itches to 
 communicate ; but this is one which it is a 
 pleasure to know and to keep. It gives to 
 the possessor, quasically speaking, a double 
 existence: the exoteric person mingles, as 
 usual, in society, while the esoteric is like 
 John the Giganticide in his coat of darkness, 
 or that knight who in the days of King 
 Arthur used to walk invisible. 
 
 The best or the worst performer at a 
 masquerade may have less delight in the 
 consciousness or conceit of their own talents, 
 than he may take in conversing with an air 
 of perfect unconcern about his own dear 
 book. It may be sport for him to hear it 
 scornfully condemned by a friend, and plea- 
 sure to find it thoroughly relished by an 
 enemy. 
 
 The secrets of nature 
 Have not more gift iu taciturnity.! 
 
 Peradventure he praises it himself with a 
 sincerity for which every reader will give 
 him full credit ; or peradventure he con- 
 demns it, for the sake of provoking others 
 to applaud it more warmly in defence of 
 their own favourable and pre-expressed opin- 
 ion. Whether of these courses, thinkest 
 thou, gentle reader, is he most likely to pur- 
 
 t TROILUS and CRESSIDA.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 247 
 
 sue ? I will only tell thee that either would 
 to him be equally easy and equally enter- 
 taining. " Ye shall know that we may 
 dissemble in earnest as well as in sport, under 
 covert and dark terms, and in learned and 
 apparent speeches, in short sentences, and 
 by long ambage and circumstance of words, 
 and finally, as well when we lie, as when we 
 tell truth." * 
 
 In any one of the supposed cases suffi- 
 cient reason is shown for his keeping, and 
 continuing to keep his own secret. 
 
 En nuusjormant, nature a scs caprices, 
 Hirers priichans en m>us ellcfail observer. 
 Lea tins, A s'cxposer, trouvent mille delices; 
 
 Hoi, fen trouve a me consertoer.^ 
 
 And if there be any persons who are not 
 satisfied with this explanation, I say to them, 
 in the words of Jupiter, 
 
 STET PRO RATIONS VOLUNTAS. 
 
 Moreover, resting my claim to the grati- 
 tude of this generation, and of those which 
 are to come, upon the matter of these 
 volumes, and disclaiming for myself all merit 
 except that of fidelity to the lessons of my 
 philosopher and friend, I shall not fear to 
 appropriate, mutatis mutandis, and having 
 thus qualified them, the proud words of 
 Arrian : 
 
 'AAA' ixiito ivayjajai, OTI ifjuu tretifis , xa.1 ytttf, XKI 
 ig%xt, ads 01 ).<,-/ii lift Ti XKI ixi ra til fix. arxfi-2 
 lu.ix.uni T> tr^u-raat tr -ry <?? T-j) 'Ayj-X/as/J, l'ixi$ out a.i 
 An>y. o l&ryti iuu; ray it -roi; 
 
 INTERCHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A PEEP FROM BEHIND THE CUBTAIN. 
 
 Ha, ha, ha, now ye will make me to smile, 
 
 To see if I can all men beguile. 
 
 Ha, my name, my name would ye so fain know ? 
 
 Yea, I wis, shall ye, and that with all speed. 
 I have forgot it, therefore I cannot show. 
 
 A, a, now I have it ! I have it indeed ! 
 My name is Ambidexter, I signify one 
 
 That with both hands finely can play. 
 
 KING CAMBYSES. 
 
 BUT the question has been mooted in the 
 literary and cerulean circles of the metro- 
 
 PUTTENHAM. 
 
 t MOLIERE. 
 
 polis, whether this book be not the joint 
 work of two or more authors. And this 
 duality or plurality of persons in one author- 
 ship has been so confidently maintained, 
 that if it were possible to yield upon such a 
 point to any display of evidence and weight 
 of authority, I must have been argued out 
 of my own indivisible individuality. 
 
 Fort bien ! Je le soutiens par la grande raison 
 Qu'ainsi I' a fait des Dieux la puissance supreme ; 
 Et qu'il n'est pas en moi de pouvoir dire non, 
 Et d'etre un autre que moi-meme.\ 
 
 Sometimes I have been supposed to be 
 the unknown Beaumont of some equally 
 unknown Fletcher, the moiety of a Siamese 
 duplicate ; or the third part of a Geryonite 
 triplicity; the fourth of a quaternion of 
 partners, or a fifth of a Smectymnuan as- 
 sociation. Nay, I know not whether they 
 have not cut me down to the dimensions of 
 a tailor, and dwindled me into the ninth 
 part of an author ! 
 
 Me to be thus served ! me, who am an 
 integral, to be thus split into fractions ! me, 
 a poor unit of humanity, to be treated like a 
 polypus under the scissors of an experimental 
 naturalist, or unnaturalist. 
 
 The reasons assigned in support of this 
 pluri-personal hypothesis are, first, the sup- 
 posed discrepancy of humour and taste ap- 
 parent in the different parts of the book. 
 Oh men ignorant of humorology ! more 
 ignorant of psychology ! and most ignorant 
 of Pantagruelism ! 
 
 Secondly, the prodigal expenditure of 
 mottoes and quotations, which they think 
 could only have been supported by means 
 of a pic-nic contribution. Oh men whose 
 diligence is little, whose reading less, and 
 whose sagacity least of all ! 
 
 Yet looking at this fancy of the Public, 
 a creature entertained with many fancies, 
 beset with many tormenting spirits, and 
 provided with more than the four legs and 
 two voices which were hastily attributed to 
 the son of Sycorax ; a creature which, 
 though it be the fashion of the times to seek 
 for shelter under its gaberdine, is by this 
 
 % MOLIERE.
 
 248 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 good light, " a very shallow monster," " a 
 most poor credulous monster ! " I say 
 looking at this fancy of the Public in that 
 temper with which it is my wish to regard 
 everything, methinks I should be flattered 
 by it, and pleased (if anything nattering 
 could please me) by having it supposed upon 
 such grounds, that this book, like the Satyre 
 Menippee, is the composition of several bons 
 et gentils esprits du terns, dans lequel souz 
 paroles et allegations pleines de raillerie, Us 
 boufonnerent, comme en riant le vray se pent 
 dire ; and which Us firent, selon leurs 
 humeurs, caprices et intelligences, en telle 
 sorts qiCil se pent dire qrftts n'ont rien 
 oullie de ce qui se peut dire pour servir de 
 perfection a cet ouvrage, qui bien entendu 
 sera grandement estime par la posterite* 
 
 The same thing occurred in the case of 
 Gulliver's Travels, and in that case Arbuth- 
 not thought reasonably ; for, said he, " if 
 this Book were to be decyphered, merely 
 from a view of it, without any hints, or 
 secret history, this would be a very natural 
 conclusion: we should be apt to fancy it 
 the production of two or three persons, who 
 want neither wit nor humour ; but who are 
 very full of themselves, and hold the rest of 
 mankind in great contempt ; who think suf- 
 ficient regard is not paid to their merit by 
 those in power, for which reason they rail at 
 them ; who have written some pieces with 
 success and applause, and therefore pre- 
 sume that whatever comes from them must 
 be implicitly received by the public. In 
 this last particular they are certainly right ; 
 for the superficial people of the Town, who 
 have no judgment of their own, are pre- 
 sently amused by a great name : tell them, 
 by way of a secret, that such a thing is 
 Dr. Swift's, Mr. Pope's, or any -other per- 
 son's of note and genius, and immediately it 
 flies about like wildfire."f 
 
 If the Book of the Doctor, instead of con- 
 tinuing to appear, as it originally went 
 forth, simplex munditiis, with its own pithy, 
 comprehensive, and well-considered title, 
 were to have a name constructed for it of 
 
 * CHEVBRNY. 
 
 t GULLIVER decyphered. 
 
 composite initials, like the joint-stock 
 volume of the five puritanical ministers 
 above referred to, once so well known, but 
 now preserved from utter oblivion by no- 
 tliing but that name, vox et praterea 
 nihil; if, I say, the Book of the Doctor 
 were in like manner to be denominated, 
 according to one or other of the various 
 schemes of bibliogony which have been de- 
 vised for explaining its phenomena, the 
 reader might be expected in good earnest 
 to exclaim, 
 
 Bless us ! what a word on 
 A title page is this 1 
 
 For among other varieties, the following 
 present themselves for choice : 
 
 Isdis. 
 
 Roso. 
 
 Heta. 
 
 Harco. 
 
 Samro. 
 
 Grobe. 
 
 Theho. 
 
 Heneco. 
 
 Thojama. 
 
 Johofre. 
 
 Reverne. 
 
 Hetaroso. 
 
 Walaroso. 
 
 Rosogrobe. 
 
 Venarchly. 
 
 Satacoroso. 
 
 Samrothomo. 
 
 Verevfrawra. 
 
 Isdisbendis. 
 
 Harcoheneco. 
 
 Henecosaheco. 
 
 Thehojowicro. 
 
 Rosohenecoharco. 
 
 Thehojowicrogecro. 
 
 Harcohenecosaheco. 
 
 Satacoharcojotacohenecosaheco. 
 
 And thus, my monster of the Isle, while I 
 have listened and looked on like a spectator 
 at a game of blind-man's-buff", or at a blind- 
 fold boat-race, have you, with your erra- 
 bund guesses, veering to all points of the 
 literary compass, amused the many-hu-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 249 
 
 moured yet single-minded Pantagruelist, 
 the quotationipotent mottocrat, the entire 
 unit, the single and whole homo, who sub- 
 scribes himself, 
 
 with all sincerity and good will, 
 
 Most delicate Monster, 
 and with just as much respect as you deserve, 
 
 not yours, or any body's humble Servant 
 (saving always that he is the king's dutiful 
 
 subject), 
 
 and not yours, but his own, to command, 
 KEWINT-HEILA- WERNER. 
 
 CHAPTER CVI. 
 
 THE AUTHOE APOSTROPHIZES SOME OF HIS 
 FAIR READERS ; LOOKS FARTHER THAN 
 THEY ARE LIKELY TO DO, AND GIVES 
 THEM A JDST THOUGH MELANCHOLY EX- 
 HORTATION TO BE CHEERFUL WHILE THEY 
 MAY. 
 
 Hark how the birds do sing, 
 
 And woods do ring ! 
 All creatures have their joy, and Man hath his : 
 
 Yet, if we rightly measure, 
 
 Man's joy and pleasure 
 Rather hereafter, than in present is. 
 
 HERBERT. 
 
 BERTHA, Arabella, Sarah, Mary, Caroline, 
 Dorothea, Elizabeth, Kate, Susan, how 
 many answer to these names, each thinking 
 that perad venture she may be the individual 
 especially addressed 
 
 Alcun' e che risponde a chi not chiama * ; 
 
 you are looking with impatience for De- 
 borah's wedding-day, and are ready to 
 inveigh against me for not immediately pro- 
 ceeding to that part of my story. Well has 
 Sir William Davenant said, 
 Slow seems their speed whose thoughts before them run ; 
 
 but it is true in one sense as applied to you, 
 and in another as applied to myself. To 
 you my progress appears slow, because you 
 are eager to arrive at what, rightly consider- 
 ing it the most important point upon the 
 whole journey of life, you may, perhaps, 
 
 PETKARCU. 
 
 expect to prove the most interesting in this 
 volume. Your thoughts have sped forward 
 to that point and no farther. Mine travel 
 beyond it, and this, were there no other 
 motive, would retard me now. You are 
 thinking of the bride and bridegroom, and 
 the bridesmaid, and the breakfast at the 
 vicarage, and the wedding dinner at the 
 Grange, and the Doncaster bells which rung 
 that day to the Doctor's ears the happiest 
 peal that ever saluted them, from St. 
 George's tower. My thoughts are of a dif- 
 ferent complexion ; for where now are the 
 joys and the sorrows of that day, and where 
 are all those by whom they were partaken ! 
 The elder Allisons have long since been 
 gathered to their fathers. Betsey and her 
 husband (whom at that day she had never 
 seen) are inhabitants of a distant church- 
 yard. Mr. Bacon's mortal part has mould- 
 ered in the same grave with Margaret's. 
 The Doctor has been laid beside them ; and 
 thither his aged widow Deborah was long 
 ago brought home, earth to earth, ashes to 
 ashes, dust to dust. 
 
 " The deaths of some, and the marriages 
 of others," says Cowper, " make a new world 
 of it every thirty years. Within that space 
 of time the majority are displaced, and a 
 new generation has succeeded. Here and 
 there one is permitted to stay longer, that 
 there may not be wanting a few grave Dons 
 like myself to make the observation." 
 
 Man is a self-survivor every year 
 Man like a stream is in perpetual flow. 
 Death's a destroyer of quotidian prey : 
 My youth, my noontide his, my yesterday ; 
 The bold invader shares the present hour, 
 Each moment on the former shuts the grave. 
 While man is growing, life is in decrease, 
 And cradles rock us nearer to the tomb. 
 Our birth is nothing but our death begun, 
 As tapers waste that instant they take fire, t 
 
 Yet infinitely short as the term of human 
 life is when compared with time to come, it 
 is not so in relation to time past. An hun- 
 dred and forty of our own generations carry 
 us back to the Deluge, and nine more of 
 antediluvian measure to the Creation, 
 which to us is the beginning of time ; for 
 
 t YOUNG.
 
 250 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 " time itself is but a novelty, a late and up- 
 start thing in respect of the Ancient of 
 Days." * They who remember their grand- 
 father and see their grandchildren, have 
 seen persons belonging to five out of that 
 number ; and he who attains the age of 
 threescore has seen two generations pass 
 away. "The created world," says Sir 
 Thomas Browne, " is but a small parenthesis 
 in eternity, and a short interposition for a 
 time, between such a state of duration as 
 was before it, and may be after it." There 
 is no time of life after we become capable of 
 reflection, in which the world to come must 
 not to any considerate mind appear of more 
 importance to us than this ; no time in 
 which we have not a greater stake there. 
 When we reach the threshold of old age all 
 objects of our early affections have gone 
 before us, and in the common course of 
 mortality a great proportion of the later. 
 Not without reason did the wise compilers 
 of our admirable Liturgy place next in order 
 after the form of Matrimony, the services 
 for the Visitation and Communion of the 
 Sick, and for the Burial of the Dead, 
 
 I would not impress such considerations 
 too deeply upon the young and happy. Far 
 be it from me to infuse bitters into the cup 
 of hope ! 
 
 Hum fata sinunt 
 Vimte Iteti : properat cursu 
 Vita citato, volucrique die 
 Rota prcecipitis verlitur anni. 
 Dur<E peragunt pensa lorores, 
 Nee sua retro JUa revolvunt. f 
 
 What the Spaniards call desengano (which 
 our dictionaries render " discovery of deceit, 
 the act of undeceiving, or freeing from 
 error," and for which, if our language has 
 an equivalent word, it is not in my voca- 
 bulary,) that state of mind in which we 
 understand feelingly the vanity of human 
 wishes, and the instability of earthly joys, 
 that sad wisdom comes to all in time ; 
 but if it came too soon, it would unfit us for 
 this world's business and the common inter- 
 course of life. When it comes in due season, 
 it fits us for a higher intercourse and for a 
 happier state of existence. 
 
 SAMUEL JOHNSON the elder. 
 
 t SENECA. 
 
 CHAPTER CVII. 
 
 THE AUTHOR INTRODUCES HIS READERS TO 
 A RETIRED DUCHESS, AND SUGGESTS A 
 PARALLEL BETWEEN HER GRACE AND THE 
 RETIRED TOBACCONIST. 
 
 In midst of plenty only to embrace 
 Calm patience, is not worthy of your praise ; 
 
 But he that can look sorrow in the face 
 And not be daunted, he deserves the bays. 
 
 This is prosperity, where'er we find 
 
 A heavenly solace in an earthly mind. 
 
 HUGH CROMPTON. 
 
 THERE is a very pleasing passage in a letter 
 of the Duchess of Somerset's, written in 
 the unreserved intimacy of perfect friend- 
 ship, without the slightest suspicion that it 
 would ever find its way to the press. "'Tis 
 true, my dear Lady Luxborough," she says, 
 " times are changed with us, since no walk 
 was long enough, or exercise painful enough, 
 to hurt us as we childishly imagined ; yet 
 after a ball, or a masquerade, have we not 
 come home very well contented to pull off 
 our ornaments and fine clothes, in order to 
 go to rest ? Such, methinks, is the recep- 
 tion we naturally give to the warnings of 
 our bodily decays ; they seem to undress us 
 by degrees, to prepare us for a rest that 
 will refresh us far more powerfully than any 
 night's sleep could do. We shall then find 
 no weariness from the fatigues which either 
 our bodies or our minds have undergone ; 
 but all tears shall be wiped from our eyes, 
 and sorrow and crying and pain shall be no 
 more : we shall then without weariness move 
 in our new vehicles, and transport ourselves 
 from one part of the skies to another, with 
 much more ease and velocity than we could 
 have done in the prime of our strength, 
 upon the fleetest horses, the distance of a 
 mile. This cheerful prospect enables us to 
 see our strength fail, and await the tokens 
 of our approaching dissolution with a kind 
 of awful pleasure. I will ingenuously own 
 to you, dear Madam, that I experience more 
 true happiness in the retired manner of life 
 that I have embraced, than I ever knew 
 from all the splendour or flatteries of the 
 world. There was always a void ; they could
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 251 
 
 not satisfy a rational mind : and at the 
 most heedless time of my youth I well re- 
 member that I always looked forward with 
 a kind of joy to a decent retreat when the 
 evening .of life should make it practicable." 
 
 " If one only anticipates far enough, one 
 is sure to find comfort," said a young 
 moraliser, who was then for the first time 
 experiencing some of the real evils of life. 
 A sense of its vanities taught the Duchess 
 that wisdom, before she was visited with 
 affliction. Frances, wife and widow of Al- 
 gernon seventh Duke of Somerset, was a 
 woman who might perhaps have been hap- 
 pier in a humbler station, but could not 
 have been more uncorrupted by the world. 
 Her husband inherited from his father the 
 honours of the Seymour, from his mother 
 those of the Percy family ; but Lord Beau- 
 champ, 
 
 Born with as much nobility as would. 
 
 Divided, serve to make ten noblemen 
 
 Without a herald ; but with so much spirit 
 
 And height of soul, as well might furnish twenty,* 
 
 Lord Beauchamp I say, the son thus en- 
 dowed, who should have succeeded to these 
 accumulated honours, died on his travels at 
 Bologna of the small-pox, in the flower of 
 his youth. His afflicted mother in reply to 
 a letter of consolation expressed herself 
 thus : " The dear lamented son I have lost 
 was the pride and joy of my heart : but I 
 hope I may be the more easily excused for 
 having looked on him in this light, since he 
 was not so from the outward advantages he 
 possessed, but from the virtues and recti- 
 tude of his mind. The prospects which 
 flattered me in regard to him, were not 
 drawn from his distinguished rank, or from 
 the beauty of his person ; but from the 
 hopes that his example would have been 
 serviceable to the cause of virtue, and 
 would have shown the younger part of the 
 world that it was possible to be cheerful 
 without being foolish or vicious, and to be 
 religious without severity or melancholy. 
 His whole life was one uninterrupted course 
 of duty and affection to his parents, and 
 
 when he found the hand of death upon him, 
 his only regret was to think on the agonies 
 which must rend their hearts : for he was 
 perfectly contented to leave the world, as 
 his conscience did not reproach him with 
 any presumptuous sins, and he hoped his 
 errors would be forgiven. Thus he resigned 
 his innocent soul into the hands of his mer- 
 ciful Creator on the evening of his birthday, 
 which completed him nineteen." 
 
 In another letter she says, " when I lost 
 my dear, and by me ever-lamented son, 
 every faculty to please (if ever I were pos- 
 sessed of any such) died with him. I have 
 no longer any cheerful thoughts to com- 
 municate to my friends ; but as the joy and 
 pride of my heart withers in his grave, my 
 mind is continually haunting those mansions 
 of the dead, and is but too inattentive to 
 what passes in a world where I have still 
 duties and attachments which I ought to be, 
 and I hope I may truly say I am, thankful 
 for. But I enjoy all these blessings with 
 trembling and anxiety; for after my dear 
 Beauchamp, what human things can appear 
 permanent ? Youth, beauty, virtue, health, 
 were not sufficient to save him from the 
 hand of death, and who then can think 
 themselves secure ? These are the melan- 
 choly considerations which generally enter- 
 tain my waking hours ; though sometimes I 
 am able to view the bright side of my fate, 
 and ask myself for whom I grieve ? only for 
 myself? how narrow an affection does this 
 imply ! Could he have lived long as my 
 fondest wish desired, what could I have 
 asked at the end of that term more than the 
 assurance that he should be placed where I 
 humbly hope, and confidently trust, he is, 
 beyond the reach of sorrow, sin, or sick- 
 ness ? " 
 
 I have said that this Duchess, the Eusebia 
 of Dr. Watts' Miscellanies, and once more 
 known as the Cleora of her then famous 
 friend Mrs. Howe's Letters, might perhaps 
 have been happier in a humbler station ; 
 but she could not have been more meek and 
 more amiable, nor have possessed in a greater 
 degree the Christian virtue of humility. She 
 was one of the daughters and coheiresses of
 
 252 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 the Honourable Henry Thynne, and was of 
 the bed-chamber to the Princess of Wales, 
 in which office she continued after that 
 Princess became Queen Caroline. It was 
 through her intercession that Savage's life 
 was spared. When the Queen being pre- 
 judiced against that wretched man had re- 
 fused to hear any application in his behalf, 
 " she engaged in it," says Johnson, " with all 
 the tenderness that is excited by pity, and all 
 the zeal that is kindled by generosity; an 
 advocate," he calls her, " of rank too great 
 to be rejected unheard, and of virtue too 
 eminent to be heard without being believed." 
 Her husband's father was commonly called 
 the proud Duke of Somerset, an odious 
 designation, which could not have been ob- 
 tained unless it had been richly deserved: 
 but there are some evil examples which in- 
 cidentally produce a good effect, and Lord 
 Beauchamp, whose affability and amiable 
 disposition endeared him to all by whom he 
 was known, was perhaps more carefully 
 instructed in the principles of Christian 
 humility, and more sensible of their import- 
 ance and their truth, because there was in 
 his own family so glaring an instance of the 
 folly and hatefulness of this preposterous 
 and ridiculous sin. " It is a most terrible 
 thing for his parents," says Horace Walpole, 
 " Lord Beauchamp's death ; if they were out 
 of the question, one could not be sorry for 
 such a mortification to the pride of old 
 Somerset. He has written the most shock- 
 ing letter imaginable to poor Lord Hartford, 
 telling him that it is a judgment upon him 
 for all his undutifulness, and that he must 
 always look upon himself as the cause of his 
 son's death. Lord Hartford is as good a 
 man as lives, and has always been most un- 
 reasonably ill-treated by that old tyrant." 
 The Duke was brute enough to say that his 
 mother bad sent him abroad to kill him. It 
 was not his mother's fault that he had not 
 been secured, as far as human precautions 
 avail against the formidable disease of which 
 he died. Three years before that event she 
 said in one of her letters, " Inoculation is at 
 present more in fashion than ever ; half my 
 acquaintance are shut up to nurse their 
 
 children, grandchildren, nephews, or nieces. 
 I could be content notwithstanding the fine 
 weather to stay in town upon the same 
 account, if I were happy enough to see my 
 son desire it ; but that is not the case, and 
 at his age it must either be a voluntary act 
 or left undone." 
 
 The proud Duke lived to the great age of 
 eighty-six, and his son died little more than 
 twelvemonths after him, leaving an irre- 
 proachable name. The Duchess survived 
 her son ten years, and her husband four. 
 Upon the Duke's death the Seymour honours 
 were divided between two distant branches 
 of that great and ancient house ; those of 
 the Percys devolved to his only daughter 
 and heiress the Lady Elizabeth, then wife 
 of Sir Hugh Smithson, in whom the Duke- 
 dom of Northumberland was afterwards re- 
 vived. The widow passed the remainder of 
 her days at a seat near Colnbrook, which 
 her husband had purchased from Lord 
 Bathurst, and had named Percy Lodge : 
 Richkings was its former appellation. Pope 
 in one of his letters calls it " Lord Bathurst's 
 extravagante bergerie" in allusion to the 
 title of an old mock-romance. " The en- 
 virons," says the Duchess, " perfectly an- 
 swer to that title, and come nearer to my 
 idea of a scene in Arcadia than any place I 
 ever saw. The house is old but convenient ; 
 and when you are got within the little pad- 
 dock it stands on, you would believe your- 
 self an hundred miles from London, which I 
 think a great addition to its beauty." Moses 
 Brown wrote a poem upon it, the Duke and 
 Duchess having appointed him their laureate 
 for the nonce ; but though written by their 
 command, it was not published till after the 
 death of both, and was then inscribed to 
 her daughter, at that time Countess of 
 Northumberland. If Olney had not a far 
 greater poet to boast of, it might perhaps 
 have boasted of Moses Brown. Shenstone's 
 Ode on Rural Elegance, which is one of his 
 latest productions, related especially to this 
 place. He inscribed it to the Duchess, 
 and communicated it to her in manuscript 
 through their mutual friend Lady Lux- 
 borough, sister to Bolingbroke, who pos-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 253 
 
 sessed much of her brother's talents, but 
 nothing of his cankered nature. 
 
 The Duchess was a great admirer of Shen- 
 stone's poetry, but though pleased with the 
 poem, and gratified by the compliment, she 
 told him that it had given her some pain, 
 and requested that wherever her name or 
 that of Percy Lodge occurred, he would 
 oblige her by leaving a blank, without sus- 
 pecting her of an affected or false modesty, 
 for to that accusation she could honestly 
 plead not guilty. The idea he had formed 
 of her character, he had taken, she said, 
 from a partial friend, whose good nature had 
 warped her judgment. The world in gene- 
 ral, since they could find no fault in his 
 poem, would blame the choice of the per- 
 son to whom it was inscribed, and draw 
 mortifying comparisons between the ideal 
 lady, and the real one. " But I," said she, 
 " have a more impartial judge to produce 
 than either my friend or the world, and 
 that is my own heart, which, though it may 
 flatter me, I am not quite so faulty as the 
 world would represent, at the same time 
 loudly admonishes me that I am still further 
 from the valuable person Lady Luxborough 
 has drawn you in to suppose me, I hope 
 you will accept these reasons as the genuine 
 and most sincere sentiments of my mind, 
 which indeed they are, though accompanied 
 with the most grateful sense of the honour 
 you designed me." 
 
 I have said something, and have yet more 
 to say of a retired Tobacconist ; and I will 
 here describe the life of a retired Duchess, 
 of the same time and country, drawn from 
 her own letters. Some of Plutarch's pa- 
 rallels are less apposite, and none of them 
 in like manner equally applicable to those of 
 high station and those of low degree. 
 
 The duchess had acquired that taste for 
 landscape gardening, the honour of introduc- 
 ing which belongs more to Shenstone than 
 to any other individual, and has been pro- 
 perly awarded to him by D'Israeli, one of 
 the most just and generous of critical au- 
 thors. Thus she described the place of her 
 retreat, when it came into their possession : 
 " It stands in a little paddock of about a 
 
 mile and a half round, which is laid out in 
 the manner of a French park, interspersed 
 with woods and lawns. There is a canal in 
 it about twelve hundred yards long, and pro- 
 portionably broad, which has a stream con- 
 tinually running through it, and is deep 
 enough to carry a pleasure-boat. It is well 
 stocked with carp and tench ; and at its 
 upper end there is a green-house, contain- 
 ing a good collection of orange, myrtle, gera- 
 nium, and oleander trees. This is a very 
 agreeable room, either to drink tea, play at 
 cards, or sit in with a book on a summer's 
 evening. In one of the woods (through all 
 which there are winding paths), there is a 
 cave, which, though little more than a rude 
 heap of stones, is not without charms for 
 me. A spring gushes out at the back of it ; 
 which, falling into a basin (whose brim it 
 overflows), passes along a channel in the 
 pavement where it loses itself. The entrance 
 to this recess is overhung with periwinkle, 
 and its top is shaded with beeches, large 
 elms, and birch. There are several covered 
 benches, and little arbours interwoven with 
 lilacs, woodbines, seringas and laurels ; and 
 seats under shady trees, disposed all over 
 the park. One great addition to the plea- 
 sure of living here, is the gravelly soil, 
 which, after a day of rain (if it holds up 
 only for two or three hours), one may walk 
 over without being wet through one's shoes : 
 and there is one gravel walk that encom- 
 passes the whole. We propose to make 
 an improvement, by adding to the present 
 ground a little pasture farm, which is just 
 without the pale, because there is a very 
 pretty brook of clear water which runs 
 through the meadows to supply our canal, 
 and whose course winds in such a manner 
 that it is almost naturally a serpentine river. 
 I am afraid I shall have tired you with the 
 description of what appear to me beauties 
 in our little possession ; yet I cannot help 
 adding one convenience that attends it, 
 this is, the cheap manner in which we keep 
 it, since it only requires a flock of sheep, 
 who graze the lawns fine ; and whilst these 
 are feeding, their shepherd cleans away any 
 weeds that spring up in the gravel, and re-
 
 254 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 moves dry leaves or broken branches that 
 would litter the walks. 
 
 " On the spot where the green-house now 
 stands, there was formerly a chapel, dedi- 
 cated to St. Leonard, who was certainly 
 esteemed as a tutelar saint of Windsor 
 Forest and its purlieus, for the place we left 
 was originally a hermitage founded in honour 
 of him. We have no relics of the saint ; but 
 we have an old covered bench with many re- 
 mains of the wit of my lord Bathurst's visit- 
 ors, who inscribed verses upon it. Here is 
 the writing of Addison, Pope, Prior, Con- 
 greve, Gay, and what he esteemed no less, 
 of several fine ladies. I cannot say that 
 the verses answered my expectation from 
 such authors ; we have, however, all resolved 
 to follow the fashion, and to add some of 
 our own to the collection. That you may 
 not be surprised at our courage for daring 
 to write after such great names, I will trans- 
 cribe one of the old ones, which I think as 
 good as any of them : 
 
 Who set the trees shall he remember 
 That is in haste to fell the timber ? 
 What then shall of thy woods remain, 
 Except the box that threw the main ? 
 
 There has been only one added as yet by 
 our company, which is tolerably numerous 
 at present. I scarcely know whether it is 
 worth reading or not : 
 
 By Bathurst planted, first these shades arose ; 
 Prior and Pope have sung beneath these boughs : 
 Here Addison his moral theme pursued, 
 And social Gay has cheer'd the solitude. 
 
 There is one walk that I am extremely par- 
 tial to, and which is rightly called the Abbey- 
 walk, since it is composed of prodigiously 
 high beech-trees, that form an arch through 
 the whole length, exactly resembling a clois- 
 ter. At the end is a statue ; and about the 
 middle a tolerably large circle, with Windsor 
 chairs round it : and I think, for a person of 
 contemplative disposition, one would scarcely 
 find a more venerable shade in any poetical 
 description. " 
 
 She had amused herself with improving 
 the grounds of Percy Lodge before her 
 husband's death, as much for his delight as 
 her own. 
 
 Those shady elms, my favourite trees, 
 Which near my Percy's window grew, 
 
 (Studious his leisure hours to please) 
 I decked last year for smell and shew ; 
 
 To each a fragrant woodbine bound, 
 
 And edged with pinks the verdant mound. 
 
 Nor yet the areas left ungraced 
 Betwixt the borders and each tree ; 
 
 But on them damask roses placed, 
 Which rising in a just degree. 
 
 Their glowing lustre through the green 
 
 Might add fresh beauties to the scene. 
 
 Afterwards when it became her own by the 
 Duke's bequest, and her home was thereby 
 fixed upon the spot of earth which she 
 would have chosen for herself, the satis- 
 faction which she took in adding to it either 
 beauty or convenience was enhanced by the 
 reflection that in adorning it she was at the 
 same time showing her value for the gift, 
 and her gratitude to the lamented giver. 
 " Every thing," said she, " both within 
 and without the house reminds me of my 
 obligations to him ; and I cannot turn my 
 eyes upon any object which is not an object 
 of his goodness to me. And as I think it a 
 duty, while it pleases God to continue us 
 here, not to let ourselves sink into a stupid 
 and unthankful melancholy, I endeavour 
 to find out such entertainments as my re- 
 tirement, and my dear Lord's unmerited 
 bounty will admit of." 
 
 And oh the transport, most allied to song, 
 
 In some fair villa's peaceful bound, 
 To catch soft hints from nature's tongue 
 
 And bid Arcadia bloom around : 
 Whether we fringe the sloping hill, 
 
 Or smooth below the verdant mead ; 
 Whether we break the falling rill, 
 
 Or through meandering mazes lead ; 
 Or in the horrid bramble's room 
 Bid careless groups of roses bloom ; 
 
 Or let some sheltered lake serene 
 
 Reflect flowers, woods, and spires, and brighten all the 
 scene. 
 
 O sweet disposal of the rural hour ! 
 O beauties never known to cloy ! 
 While worth and genius haunt the favour'd bower, 
 
 And every gentle breast partakes the joy. 
 While Charity at eve surveys the swain, 
 Enabled by these toils to cheer 
 A train of helpless infants dear, 
 Speed whistling home across the plain ; 
 Sees vagrant Luxury, her handmaid grown, 
 
 For half her graceless deeds atone, 
 And hails the bounteous work, and ranks it with her own.* 
 
 SHENSTONE.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 255 
 
 The Duchess was too far advanced in life 
 to find any of that enjoyment in her occu- 
 pations, which her own poet described in 
 these stanzas, and which he felt himself only 
 by an effort of reflection. But if there was 
 not the excitement of hope, there was the 
 satisfaction of giving useful employment to 
 honest industry. " When one comes," said 
 she, " to the last broken arches of Mirza's 
 bridge, rest from pain must bound our am- 
 bition, for pleasure is not to be expected in 
 this world. I have no more notion of laying 
 schemes to be executed six months, than I 
 have six years hence ; and this I believe 
 helps to keep my spirits in an even state of 
 cheerfulness, to enjoy the satisfactions that 
 present themselves, without anxious solici- 
 tude about their duration. As our journey 
 seems approaching towards the verge of life, 
 is it not more natural to cast our eyes to 
 the prospect beyond it, than by a retrospec- 
 tive view to recall the troublesome trifles 
 that ever made our road difficult or danger- 
 ous ? Methinks it would be imitating Lot's 
 wife (whose history is not recorded as an 
 example for us to follow) to want to look 
 back upon the miserable scene we are so 
 near escaping from." 
 
 In another letter to the same old friend 
 she says, " I have a regular, and I hope a 
 religious, family. My woman, though she 
 has not lived with me quite three years, had 
 before lived twenty-three, betwixt Lord 
 Grantham's and Lady Cowper's : my house- 
 keeper has been a servant as long : the per- 
 son who takes in my accounts, pays my 
 bills, and overlooks the men within doors, 
 has been in the family thirteen years ; and 
 the other, who has lived ten, has the care 
 of the stables, and every thing without. I 
 rise at seven, but do not go down till nine, 
 when the bell rings, and my whole family 
 meet me at chapel. After prayers we go to 
 breakfast ; any friend who happens to be 
 there, myself, and my chaplain, have ours in 
 the little library; the others in their respec- 
 tive eating-rooms. About eleven, if the 
 weather permits, we go to walk in the park, 
 or take' the air in the coach ; but if it be too 
 bad for either, we return to our various 
 
 occupations. At three we dine, sit perhaps 
 near an hour afterwards, then separate till 
 we meet at eight for prayers ; after which 
 we adjourn again to the library, where 
 somebody reads aloud (unless some stranger 
 comes who chooses cards), until half past 
 nine, when we sup, and always part before 
 eleven. This to the fine would sound a 
 melancholy monastic life ; and I cannot be 
 supposed to have chosen it from ignorance 
 of the splendour and gaiety of a court, but 
 from a thorough experience that they can 
 give no solid happiness ; and I find myself 
 more calmly pleased in my present way of 
 living, and more truly contented, than I 
 ever was in the bloom and pomp of my 
 youth. I am no longer dubious what point 
 to pursue. There is but one proper for the 
 decline of life, and indeed the only one 
 worth the anxiety of a rational creature at 
 any age : but how do the fire of youth, and 
 flattery of the world, blind our eyes, and 
 mislead our fancies, after a thousand 
 imaginary pleasures which are sure to dis- 
 appoint us in the end ! " 
 
 The Duchess was a person whose moral 
 constitution had not been injured by the 
 atmosphere of a court. But though she 
 kept aloof from its intrigues, and had ac- 
 quired even a distaste for its vanities, she 
 retained always an affectionate regard for 
 Queen Caroline's memory. " I should have 
 1 been glad," she says to Lady Pomfret, " to 
 have shared your reverence, and have in- 
 dulged my own at Blansfelden, whilst you 
 were overlooking the fields and the shades 
 where our late mistress had passed the first 
 scenes of her life, before the cares of royalty 
 had clouded the natural vivacity of her tem- 
 per, or the disguise which greatness is often 
 forced to wear had veiled any of her native 
 goodness ; and certainly she had a greater 
 stock of both than is often found in any 
 rank. She could never think of her with- 
 out a sigh," she said. " The most amiable 
 mistress," she calls her, " that ever adorned 
 a court, and so fitted to charm in society, 
 that it was impossible not to grudge her to 
 that life which involved her in cares and 
 encompassed her with such a cloud of dif-
 
 256 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 ferent people, that her real lustre could not 
 always reach those who parhaps had the 
 most pleasure in it." 
 
 Before the loss of her son (from which the 
 Duchess never entirely recovered), her 
 spirits had been affected by the state of her 
 husband's health. "The many solitary hours 
 I pass in a day," she says, " and the melan- 
 choly employment of attending a person in 
 his sufferings, to whom I owe every happi- 
 ness I enjoy, cannot furnish me with many 
 smiling ideas relating to this world." The 
 country in its wintry appearances accorded 
 with her feelings, " where," said she, " every 
 thing around instructs me that decay is the 
 lot of all created beings ; where every tree 
 spreads out its naked arms to testify the 
 solemn truth, which I thank heaven I feel 
 no pain in assenting to. It has long been 
 my fixed opinion, that in the latter part of 
 life, when the duties owing to a family no 
 longer call upon us to act on the public 
 stage of life, it is not only more decent, but 
 infinitely more eligible, to live in an absolute 
 retirement. However this is not the general 
 opinion of the world, and therefore I con- 
 clude that it is better it is not so, since 
 Providence undoubtedly orders better for 
 us than we are able to do for ourselves." 
 
 During the latter years of her life, how- 
 ever, she enjoyed that absolute retirement 
 which was her heart's desire. But the peace- 
 ful mansion in which this wise and amiable 
 woman passed her latter years was, after her 
 decease, inhabited by one of those men who 
 insulted public decency by the open and 
 ostentatious profligacy of their lives. Hairs. 
 Carter writing from the Castle Inn at Marl- 
 borough, which had not long before been 
 one of the residences of the Seymour family, 
 says, " this house I consider with great re- 
 spect and veneration, not without a strong 
 mixture of regret, that what was once the 
 elegant abode of virtue and genius, and 
 honoured by the conversation of the Duchess 
 of Somerset and Mrs. Howe, should now re- 
 sound with all the disorderly and riotous 
 clamour of an inn. And yet its fate is more 
 eligible than that of Percy Lodge, as it 
 stands the chance of receiving indifferently 
 
 good and bad people, and is not destined to 
 be the constant reception of shocking profli- 
 gate vice." 
 
 CHAPTER CVIII. 
 
 PERCY LODGE. THAXTED GRANGE. RAPIN 
 THE JESUIT AND SIR THOMAS BROWNE. 
 
 It seems that you take pleasure in these walks, 
 
 Sir. 
 Cleanthes. Contemplative content I do, my Lord. 
 
 They bring into my mind oft meditations 
 So sweetly precious, that in the parting 
 I find a shower of grace upon my cheeks, 
 They take their leave so feelingly. 
 
 MASSINGER. 
 
 THE difference was very great between 
 Thaxted Grange and Percy Lodge, though 
 somewhat less than that between North- 
 umberland House and the Tobacconist's at 
 No. 113. Bishopsgate Street. Yet if a 
 landscape painter who could have embodied 
 the spirit of the scene had painted both, the 
 Grange might have made the more attrac- 
 tive picture, though much had been done 
 to embellish the Lodge by consulting pic- 
 turesque effect, while the Allisons had 
 aimed at little beyond comfort and con- 
 venience in their humble precincts. 
 
 From a thatched seat in the grounds of 
 the Lodge, open on three sides and con- 
 structed like a shepherd's hut, there was a 
 direct view of Windsor Castle, seen under 
 the boughs of some old oaks and beeches. 
 Sweet Williams, narcissuses, rose-campions, 
 and such other flowers as the hares would 
 not eat, had been sown in borders round the 
 foot of every tree. There was a hermitage, 
 absurdly so called, in the wood, with a 
 thatched covering, and sides of straw ; and 
 there was a rosary, which though appro- 
 priately named, might sound as oddly to the 
 ears of a Roman Catholic. A porter's lodge 
 had been built at the entrance ; and after 
 the Duke's death the long drawing-room 
 had been converted into a chapel, in Gothic 
 taste, with three painted windows, which, 
 having been bespoken for Northumberland 
 House, but not suiting the intended altera- 
 tions in that mansion, were put up here.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 257 
 
 The Duchess and her servant had worked 
 cross-stitch chairs for this chapel in fine 
 crimson, the pattern was a Gothic mosaic, 
 and they were in Gothic frames. 
 
 Se o mundo nos nao anda a' vonlctde 
 Nao fie per a estranhar, pot's he hum sonho 
 Que nunca con ninguem tratou verdade. 
 
 Se qua >ido st nos mostra mais risonho, 
 Mais brandc, mais amigo, o desprezemos, 
 He grao virtude, e a stta conta o ponho. 
 
 Mais se, (o que fie mais certo) o desprezamot 
 Depots que nos engeita e nos despreza, 
 Quf premio, ou que louvor d/sso esperamosf* 
 
 All here, however, was as it should be : Percy 
 Lodge was the becoming retreat of a lady of 
 high rank, who having in the natural course 
 of time and things outlived all inclination for 
 the pomps and vanities of the world, and all 
 necessity for conforming to them, remem- 
 bered what was still due to her station ; and 
 doing nothing to be seen of men, had retired 
 thither to pass the remainder of her days in 
 privacy and religious peace. 
 
 All too was as it should be at Thaxted 
 Grange. Picturesque was a term which had 
 never been heard there ; and taste was as 
 little thought of as pretended to ; but the 
 right old English word comfort, in its good 
 old English meaning, was nowhere more 
 thoroughly understood. Nor anywhere could 
 more evident indications of it be seen both 
 within and without. 
 
 A tradesman retiring from business in 
 these days with a fortune equivalent to what 
 Mr. Allison had made, would begin his im- 
 provements upon such a house as the Grange 
 by pulling it down. Mr. Allison contented 
 himself with thoroughly repairing it. He 
 had no dislike to low rooms, and casement 
 windows. The whole furniture of his house 
 cost less than would now be expended by a 
 person of equal circumstances in fitting up 
 a drawing-room. Everything was for use, 
 and nothing for display, unless it were two 
 fowling pieces, which were kept in good 
 order over the fireplace in the best kitchen, 
 and never used but when a kite threatened 
 the poultry, or an owl was observed to fre- 
 quent the dove-cote in preference to the 
 barn. 
 
 * DIOGO BEK.VARDF.S. 
 
 But out of doors as much regard was 
 shown to beauty as to utility. Miss Allison 
 and Betsey claimed the little garden in front 
 of the house for themselves. It was in so 
 neglected a state when they took possession, 
 that between children and poultry and stray 
 pigs, not a garden flower was left there to 
 grow wild : and the gravel walk from the 
 gate to the porch was overgrown with 
 weeds and grass, except a path in the 
 middle which had been kept bare by use. 
 On each side of the gate were three yew 
 trees, at equal distances. In the old days of 
 the Grange they had been squared in three 
 lessening stages, the uppermost tapering 
 pyramidally to a point. While the house 
 had been shorn of its honours, the yews 
 remained unshorn ; but when it was once 
 more occupied by a wealthy habitant, and a 
 new gate had been set up and the pillars 
 and their stone-balls cleaned from moss and 
 lichen and short ferns, the unfortunate 
 evergreens were again reduced to the formal 
 shape in which Mr. Allison and his sister 
 remembered them in their childhood. This 
 was with them a matter of feeling, which is 
 a better thing than taste. And indeed the 
 yews must either have been trimmed, or 
 cut down, because they intercepted sunshine 
 from the garden and the prospect from the 
 upper windows. The garden would have 
 been better without them, for they were 
 bad neighbours ; but they belonged to old 
 times, and it would have seemed a sort of 
 sacrilege to destroy them. 
 
 Flower-beds used, like beds in the kitchen 
 garden, to be raised a little above the path, 
 ritb nothing to divide them from it, till 
 about the beginning of the seventeenth cen- 
 tury the fashion of bordering them was 
 introduced either by the Italians or the 
 French. Daisies, periwinkles, feverfew, hys- 
 sop, lavender, rosemary, rue, sage, worm- 
 wood, camomile, thyme, and box, were used 
 for this purpose: a German horticulturist 
 observes that hyssop was preferred as the 
 most convenient; box, however, gradually 
 obtained the preference. The Jesuit Rapin 
 claims for the French the merit of bringing 
 this plant into use, and embellishes hig
 
 258 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 account of it by one of those school-boy 
 fictions which passed for poetry in his days, 
 and may still pass for it in his country. lie 
 describes a feast of the rural gods : 
 
 Arifuit et Cybele, Phrygias celebrata per urbes ; 
 Ipsaque cum reliquis Flora invitaia deabut 
 Venit, inornatis, ut erat neglecta, capillis j 
 Sivefuitfastus, seu fors fiducia formte . 
 Kon illipubes ridendi prompta pepc rcit, 
 Neglfctam risere. Deam Berecynthia mater 
 Semotam a turba, casum miserata puel&e, 
 Exornat, certdque comam sub lege reponit^ 
 Et viridi imprimis buxo (nam buxifer omnis 
 Undique campus erat) velavit tempora nymphte. 
 lieddidit is speciem cultus, ccepitque. videri 
 Formosa, et meruit : novus tiinc decor addilus ori. 
 
 Ex illo, ut Floram decuit cultura, per artem 
 Floribus tile decor posthac qutesitus, et hortis : 
 Quern tamen Ausonii cultores, quemque Pelasgi 
 Neidvere, suos nulld qui lege per hortos 
 Plantabant flares, nee eos componere norant 
 Arcolis, tonsaque vias describcre buxo. 
 Culla super reliquai Francis topiaria gentes, 
 Ingenium seu mite soli ccelique benigni 
 Temperies tantam per sese adjuverit artem ; 
 Sive illam egregiie solers industria genlis 
 Extuderit, seris seu venerit usus ab aunt's. 
 
 The fashion which this buxom Flora in- 
 troduced had at one time the effect of 
 banishing flowers from what should have 
 been the flower garden : the ground was set 
 with box in their stead, disposed in patterns 
 more or less formal, some intricate as a 
 labyrinth and not a little resembling those 
 of Turkey carpets, where Mahommedan laws 
 interdict the likeness of any living thing, 
 and the taste of Turkish weavers excludes 
 any combination of graceful forms. One 
 sense at least was gratified when fragrant 
 herbs were used in these " rare figures of 
 composures," or knots as they were called, 
 hyssop being mixed in them with thyme, as 
 aiders the one to the other, the one being 
 dry, the other moist. Box had the dis- 
 advantage of a disagreeable odour; but it 
 was greener in winter and more compact in 
 all seasons. To lay out these knots and 
 tread them required the skill of a master- 
 gardener : much labour was thus expended 
 without producing any beauty. The walks 
 between them were sometimes of different 
 colours, some would be of lighter or darker 
 gravel, red or yellow sand ; and when such 
 materials were at hand, pulverised coal and 
 pulverised shells. 
 
 Such a garden Mr. Cradock saw at Bor- 
 deaux no longer ago than the year 1785 ; it 
 belonged to Monsieur Rabi, a very rich Jew 
 merchant, and was surrounded by a bank of 
 earth, on which there stood about two hun- 
 dred blue and white flower-pots ; the garden 
 itself was a scroll work cut very narrow, and 
 the interstices filled with sand of different 
 colours to imitate embroidery ; it required 
 repairing after every shower, and if the wind 
 rose the eyes were sure to suffer. Yet the 
 French admired this and exclaimed, supcrbe ! 
 magnifique ! 
 
 Neither Miss Allison nor her niece would 
 have taken any pleasure in gardens of this 
 kind, which had nothing of a garden but the 
 name. They both delighted in flowers ; the 
 aunt because flowers to her were " redolent 
 of youth," and never failed to awaken tender 
 recollections ; Betsey for an opposite reason ; 
 having been born and bred in London, a 
 nosegay there had seemed always to bring 
 her a foretaste of those enjoyments for which 
 she was looking forward with eager hope. 
 They had stocked their front garden there- 
 fore with the gayest and the sweetest flowers 
 that were cultivated in those days ; lark- 
 spurs both of the giant and dwarf species, 
 and of all colours; sweet-williams of the 
 richest hues ; monk's-hood for its stately 
 growth ; Betsey called it the dumbledore's 
 delight, and was not aware that the plant 
 in whose helmet- rather than cowl -shaped 
 flowers that busy and best-natured .of all 
 insects appears to revel more than in any 
 other, is the deadly aconite of which she 
 read in poetry : the whil e lily, and the 
 fleur-de-lis ; pseonies, which are still the 
 glory of the English garden ; stocks and 
 gillyflowers which make the air sweet as 
 the gales of Arabia; wall -flowers, which for 
 a while are little less fragrant, and not less 
 beautiful ; pinks and carnations added their 
 spicy odours ; roses red and white peeped 
 at the lower casements, and the jessamine 
 climbed to those of the chambers above. 
 You must nurse your own flowers if you 
 would have them flourish, unless you happen 
 to have a gardener who is as fond of them as 
 yourself. Eve was not busier with her's in
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 259 
 
 Paradise, her " pleasant task injoined," than 
 Betsey Allison and her aunt, from the time 
 that early spring invited them to their 
 cheerful employment, till late and monitory 
 autumn closed it for the year. 
 
 " Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed 
 like one of these;" and Solomon in all his 
 wisdom never taught more wholesome les- 
 sons than these silent monitors convey to a 
 thoughtful mind and an "understanding 
 heart." " There are two books," says Sir 
 Thomas Browne, " from whence I collect my 
 divinity; besides that written one of God, 
 another of his servant Nature, that uni- 
 versal and public manuscript that lies ex- 
 pansed unto the eyes of all. Those that 
 never saw him in the one have discovered 
 him in the other. This was the scripture 
 and theology of the heathens : the natural 
 motion of the sun made them more admire 
 him than its supernatural station did the 
 children of Israel ; the ordinary effects of 
 nature wrought more admiration in them, 
 than in the other all his miracles. Surely 
 the heathens knew better how to join and 
 read these mystical letters, than we Christians 
 who cast a more careless eye on these com- 
 mon hieroglyphics, and disdain to suck divi- 
 nity from the flowers of nature." 
 
 INTERCHAPTER XIV. 
 
 CONCERNING INTERCHAPTERS. 
 
 If we present a mingle-mangle, our fault is to be ex- 
 cused, because the whole world is become a hodge-podge. 
 
 LYLY. 
 
 IT occurs to me that some of my readers 
 may perhaps desire to be informed in what 
 consists the difference between a Chapter 
 and an Inter Chapter; for that there is a 
 difference no considerate person would be 
 disposed to deny, though he may not be able 
 to discover it. Gentle readers, readers 
 after my own heart, you for whom this opus 
 was designed long before it was an opus, 
 when as Dryden has said concerning one of 
 his own plays, " it was only a confused mass 
 
 of thoughts, tumbling over one another in 
 the dark ; when the fancy was yet in its 
 first work, moving the sleeping images of 
 things towards the light, there to be distin- 
 guished, and then either chosen or rejected 
 by the judgment," good-natured readers, 
 you who are willing to be pleased, and 
 whom therefore it is worth pleasing, for 
 your sakes, 
 
 And for because 5-011 shall not think that I 
 Do use the same without a reason why, * 
 
 I will explain the distinction. 
 
 It is not like the difference between a 
 Baptist and an Anabaptist, which Sir John 
 Danvers said, is much the -same as that be- 
 tween a Whiskey and a Tim- Whiskey, that 
 is to say, no difference at all. Nor is it like 
 that between Dryads and Hamadryads, 
 which Benserade once explained to the 
 satisfaction of a learned lady, by saying, 
 qu'il avail autant de difference qu'entre 
 les Eveques et les Archeveques. Nor 
 is it like the distinction taken by him who 
 divided bread into white bread, brown bread, 
 and French rolls. 
 
 A panegyrical poet said of the aforesaid 
 Benserade that he possessed three talents, 
 which posterity would hardly be persuaded 
 to believe ; 
 
 De plaisanter les Grands il nefit point scrupule, 
 
 Sans qu'ils le prissent de travers ; 
 Ilful vieta et golant sans etre ridicule, 
 
 Et s'enrichit a composer ties vers. 
 
 He used to say, that he was descended 
 and derived his name from the Abencer- 
 rages. Upon a similar presumption of ety- 
 mological genealogy, it has been said that 
 Aulus Gellius was the progenitor of all the 
 Gells. An Englishman may doubt this, a 
 Welshman would disbelieve, and a Jew 
 might despise it. So might a Mahomme- 
 dan, because it is a special prerogative of 
 his prophet to be perfectly acquainted with 
 his whole pedigree ; the Mussulmen hold 
 that no other human being ever possessed 
 the same knowledge, and that after the 
 resurrection, when all other pedigrees will 
 be utterly destroyed, this alone will be pre- 
 served in the archives of Eternity. 
 
 ROBERT GREEN.
 
 260 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Leaving, however, Sir William Gell to 
 genealogise, if he pleases, as elaborately as 
 he has topographised, and to maintain the 
 authenticity and dignity of his Roman 
 descent against all who may impugn it, 
 whether Turk, Jew, or Christian, I proceed 
 with my promised explanation. 
 
 The Hebrews call chapters and sections, 
 and other essential or convenient divisions, 
 the bones of a book. The Latins called 
 them nodi, knots or links ; and every philo- 
 logist knows that articles, whether gram- 
 matical, conventional, or of faith, are so 
 denominated as being the joints of language, 
 covenants, and creeds. 
 
 Now, reader, the chapters of this book 
 are the bones wherewith its body is com- 
 pacted ; the knots or links whereby its 
 thread or chain of thoughts is connected ; 
 the articulations, without which it would be 
 stiff, lame, and disjointed. Every chapter 
 has a natural dependence upon that which 
 precedes, and in like manner a relation to 
 that which follows it. Each grows out of 
 the other. They follow in direct genealogy ; 
 and each could no more have been pro- 
 duced without relation to its predecessor, 
 than Isaac could have begotten Jacob un- 
 less Abraham had begotten Isaac. 
 
 Sometimes, indeed, it must of necessity 
 happen that a new chapter opens with a 
 new part of the subject, but this is because 
 we are arrived at that part in the natural 
 prosecution of our argument. The disrup- 
 tion causes no discontinuance ; it is (to 
 pursue the former illustration) as when the 
 direct line in a family is run out, and the suc- 
 cession is continued by a collateral branch; 
 or as in the mineral world, in which one 
 formation begins where another breaks off. 
 
 In my chapters, however, where there is 
 no such natural division of the subject 
 matter, I have ever observed that " one most 
 necessary piece of mastership, which is ever 
 performed by those of good skill in music, 
 when they end a suit of lessons in any one 
 key, and do intend presently to begin an- 
 other in a differing key." Upon which piece 
 of mastership, tho worthy old " Remem- 
 brancer of the best practical music, both 
 
 divine and civil, that has ever been known 
 to have been in the world," thus instructs 
 his readers. 
 
 " They do not abruptly and suddenly 
 begin such new lessons, without some neat 
 and handsome interluding-voluntary-like 
 playing ; which may by degrees (as it were) 
 steal into that new and intended key. 
 
 " Now that you may be able to do it hand- 
 somely, and without blemish or incomplete- 
 ness (for you must know it is a piece of 
 quaintness so to do), you must take notice, 
 that always, when you have made an end of 
 playing upon any one key (if discourse or 
 some other occasion do not cause a cessation 
 of play for some pretty time, so as the re- 
 membrance of that former key may, in a 
 manner, be forgotten), it will be very need- 
 ful that some care be taken that you leave 
 that key handsomely, and come into that 
 other you intend next to play upon without 
 impertinency. 
 
 " For such impertinencies will seem to be 
 very like such a thing as this, which I shall 
 name to wit 
 
 " That when two or more persons have 
 been soberly and very intently discoursing 
 upon some particular solid matter, musing 
 and very ponderously considering thereof, 
 all on the sudden, some one of them shall 
 abruptly (without any pause) begin to talk 
 of a thing quite of another nature, nothing 
 relating to the aforesaid business. 
 
 " Now those by-standers (who have judg- 
 ment), will presently apprehend that, although 
 his matter might be good, yet his manner 
 and his wit might have been better approved 
 of in staying some certain convenient time, 
 in which he might have found out some 
 pretty interluding discourse, and have taken 
 a handsome occasion to have brought in his 
 new matter. 
 
 " Just so is it in music, and more parti- 
 cularly in this last- recited matter ; as to 
 chop different things of different natures, 
 and of different keys, one upon the neck of 
 another, impertinently. 
 
 " For I would have it taken notice of, 
 that music is (at least) as a language, if it 
 will not be allowed a perfect one, because
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 261 
 
 it is not so well understood as it might 
 be. 
 
 " Having thus far prepared you with an 
 apprehension of the needfulness of the thing, 
 I will now show you how it is to be done 
 without abruption and absurdness. 
 
 " First, (as abovesaid) it may be that dis- 
 course may take off the remembrance of the 
 last key in which you played, or some occa- 
 sion of a leaving off for some pretty time, 
 by a string breaking or the like ; or if not, 
 then (as commonly it happens) there may 
 be a need of examining the tuning of your 
 lute, for the strings will alter a little in the 
 playing of one lesson, although they have 
 been well stretched. But if lately put on, 
 or have been slacked down by any mis- 
 chance of pegs slipping, then they will need 
 mending, most certainly. 
 
 " I say some such occasion may sometimes 
 give you an opportunity of coming hand- 
 somely to your new intended key ; but if 
 none of these shall happen, then you ought, 
 in a judicious and masterly way, to work 
 from your last key which you played upon, 
 in some voluntary way till you have brought 
 your matter so to pass that your auditors 
 may be captivated with a new attention, 
 yet so insinuatingly, that they may have lost 
 the remembrance of the foregoing key they 
 know not how ; nor are they at all concerned 
 for the loss of it, but rather taken with a 
 new content and delight at your so cunning 
 and complete artifice." 
 
 With strict propriety then may it be said 
 of these my chapters, as Wordsworth has said 
 of certain sonnets during his tour in Scot- 
 land and on the English border, that they 
 
 Have moTed in order, to each other bound 
 By a continuous and acknowledged tie 
 Though unapparent, like those shapes distinct 
 That yet survive ensculptured on the walls 
 Of Palace, or of Temple, 'mid the wreck 
 Of famed Persepolis ; each following each, 
 As might beseem a stately embassy 
 In set array ; these bearing in their hands 
 Ensign of civil power, weapon of war, 
 Or gift to be presented at the Throne 
 Of the Great King ; and others as they go 
 In priestly vest, with holy offerings charged, 
 Or leading victims dressed for sacrifice. 
 
 For an ordinary book then the ordinary 
 division into chapters might very well have 
 
 sufficed. But this is an extraordinary book. 
 Hath not the Quarterly Review that Re- 
 view which among all Reviews is properly 
 accounted facile Princeps, hath not that 
 great critical authority referred to it KO.T 
 ifyxnv as "the extraordinary book called 
 the Doctor" ? Yes, reader 
 
 All things within it 
 Are so digested, fitted and composed 
 As it shows Wit had married Order.* 
 
 And as the exceptions in grammar prove 
 the rule, so the occasional interruptions of 
 order here are proofs of that order, and in 
 reality belong to it. 
 
 Lord Bacon (then Sir Francis) said in a 
 letter to the Bishop of Ely upon sending him 
 his writing intitled Cogitata et Visa, " I am 
 forced to respect as well my times, as the 
 matter. For with me it is thus, and I think 
 with all men in my case : if I bind myself 
 to an argument, it loadeth my mind ; but if 
 I rid my mind of the present cogitation, it 
 is rather a recreation. This hath put me 
 into these miscellanies, which I purpose to 
 suppress if God give me leave to write a 
 just and perfect volume of philosophy." 
 
 That I am full of cogitations, like Lord 
 Bacon, the judicious reader must ere this 
 time have perceived, though he may perhaps 
 think me not more worthy on that score 
 to be associated with Bacon, than beans or 
 cabbage, or eggs at best. Like him, how- 
 ever, in this respect I am, however unlike 
 in others ; and it is for the reader's recrea- 
 tion as well as mine, and for our mutual 
 benefit, that my mind should be delivered 
 of some of its cogitations as soon as they 
 are ripe for birth. 
 
 I know not whence thought comes ; who 
 indeed can tell ? But this we know, that 
 like the wind it cometh as it listeth. Hap- 
 pily there is no cause for me to say with Sir 
 Philip Sydney, 
 
 If I could think how these my thoughts to leave ; 
 
 Or thinking still, my thoughts might have good end ; 
 If rebel Sense would Reason's law receive, 
 
 Or Reason foiled would not in vain contend ; 
 Then might I think what thoughts were best to think, 
 Then might I wisely swim, or gladly gink. 
 
 * B. JONSO.N.
 
 262 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Nor with Des-Portes, 
 
 pensers trap pensez, que rebellez man ante ! 
 O debile ration ! lacqs ! train I 
 
 thanks to that kind Providence which has 
 hitherto enabled me, through good and evil 
 fortune, to maintain an even and well-regu- 
 lated mind. Neither need I say with the 
 pleasant authors of the "Rejected Ad- 
 dresses" in their harmless imitation of a most 
 pernicious author, 
 
 Thinking is but an idle waste of thought, 
 
 And nought is every thing and every thing is nought. 
 
 I have never worked in an intellectual tread- 
 mill, which, as it had nothing to act on, was 
 grinding the wind. 
 
 " He that thinks ill," says Dean Young, 
 (the poet's father,) "prevents the Tempter, 
 and does the Devil's business for him ; he 
 that thinks nothing, tempts the Tempter, and 
 offers him possession of an empty room ; but 
 he that thinks religiously, defeats the Temp- 
 ter, and is proof and secure against all his 
 assaults." I know not whether there be 
 any later example where the word prevent 
 is used, as hi the Collect, in its Latin sense. 
 
 It is a man's own fault if he excogitate 
 vain thoughts, and still more if he enunciate 
 and embody them ; but it is not always in 
 his power to prevent their influx. Even the 
 preventive which George Tubervile recom- 
 mends in his monitory rhymes, is not infal- 
 lible : 
 
 Eschew the idle life 1 
 Flee, flee from doing nought ! 
 
 For never was there idle brain 
 But bred an idle thought. 
 
 Into the busiest brain they will sometimes 
 intrude ; and the brain that is over-busy 
 breeds them. But the thoughts which are 
 not of our own growth or purchase, and 
 which we receive not from books, society, 
 or visible objects, but from some undis- 
 covered influence, are of all kinds. 
 
 Who has a breast so pure, 
 But some uncleanly apprehensions 
 Keep leets and law days, and in session sit 
 With meditations lawful ? 
 
 I dare not affirm that some are suggestions 
 of the enemy ; neither dare I deny it ; from 
 all such tela ignea and tela venenata, what- 
 ever be their origin, or whencesoever they 
 come, God preserve us ! But there are 
 holy inspirations, which philosophy may 
 teach us to expect, and faith to pray for. 
 
 My present business is not with these, 
 but it is with those conceptions which float 
 into the solitary mind, and which, if they 
 are unrecorded pass away, like a dream or 
 a rainbow, or the glories of an evening sky. 
 Some of them are no better than motes in 
 the sunbeams, as light, as fleeting, and to 
 all apprehension as worthless. Others may 
 be called seminal thoughts, which, if they 
 light not upon a thorny, or stony, or arid 
 field of intellect, germinate, and bring forth 
 flowers, and peradvcnture fruit. Now it is 
 in the Interchapters that part of this float- 
 ing capital is vested ; part of these waifs and 
 strays impounded ; part of this treasure trove 
 lodged ; part of these chance thoughts and 
 fancies preserved : part I say, because 
 
 J'ay mille autres pensers, et mille et mille et mille, 
 Quifont qu'incessammcnt man esprit se distile.t 
 
 " There are three things," says a Welsh 
 triad, " that ought to be considered before 
 some things should be spoken ; the manner, 
 the place, and the time." Touching the 
 manner, I see none whereby they could 
 more conveniently or agreeably be con- 
 veyed; and for the place and time these 
 must be allowed to be at my own discretion. 
 
 And howsoever, be it well or ill 
 
 What I have done, it is mine own ; I may 
 
 Do whatsoever therewithal I will.J 
 
 (Be it remarked in passing that these lines 
 bear a much greater resemblance to Italian 
 poetry than any of those English sonnets 
 which have been called Petrarcal.) One 
 place being (generally speaking) as suitable 
 as another, it has not been necessary for me 
 to deliberate, 
 
 Dcsla antigua prenez de pensamientos 
 dual el primero hare, qual el segvndo.$ 
 
 I have interspersed them where I thought 
 fit, and given them the appellation which 
 
 t DBS-PORTES. 
 
 DANIEL. 
 
 BALBUBNA.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 263 
 
 they bear, to denote that they are no 
 
 
 more a necessary and essential part of this 
 
 CHAPTER CIX. 
 
 opus, than the voluntary is of the church 
 
 
 service. 
 
 INCIDENTAL MENTION OF HAMMOND, SIB ED- 
 
 
 MCND KING, JOANNA BAILLIE, SIB WILLIAM 
 
 'Eiffit Je a'.fi tta ; 
 
 TEMPLE, AND MB. THOMAS PEBEGBINE 
 
 Ilsjj 'Aftivan, TE{) UiiXm, 
 
 COUBTENAT. PETEB COLLINSON AN AC- 
 
 Tl--(i vw, trifi t/juS, srtft ixKtTtn y^a.yua,-nn.* 
 
 QUAINTANCE OF MB. ALLISON'S. HOLTDATS 
 
 A Chapter is, as has been explained, both 
 
 AT THAXTED GBANGE. 
 
 procreated and procreative : an Interchapter 
 
 And sure there seem of human kind 
 
 is like the hebdomad, which profound phi- 
 losophers have pronounced to be not only 
 
 Some born to shun the solemn strife ; 
 Some for amusive tasks design'd 
 To soothe the certain ills of life, 
 
 irapdivos, but diiijTiap. a motherless as well as 
 
 Grace its lone vales with many a budding rose, 
 
 
 New founts of bliss disclose, 
 
 a virgin number. 
 
 Call forth refreshing shades and decorate repose. 
 
 Here, too, the exception illustrates the 
 
 SHENSTONE. 
 
 rule. There are at the commencement of the 
 third volume four Interchapters in succes- 
 sion, and relating to each other, the first 
 gignitive but not generated ; the second and 
 third both generated and gignitive, the 
 fourth generated but not gignitive. They 
 stand to each other in the' relation of Adam, 
 Seth, Enoch, Kenan. These are the ex- 
 ceptions. The other chapters are all Mel- 
 cliizodckitcs. 
 
 DB. HAMMOND says he had " heard say of a 
 man who, upon his death-bed, being to take 
 his farewell of his son, and considering what 
 course of life to recommend that might se- 
 cure his innocence, at last enjoined him to 
 spend his time in making verses, and in 
 dressing a garden ; the old man thinking no 
 temptation could creep into either of these 
 employments." As to the former part of 
 
 The gentle Reader will be satisfied with 
 this explanation ; the curious will be pleased 
 with it. To the captious one I say in the 
 words of John Bunyan, " Friend, howsoever 
 thou earnest by this book, I will assure thee 
 thou wert least in my thoughts when I writ 
 it. I tell thee, I intended the book as little 
 for thee as the goldsmith intended his jewels 
 and rings for the snout of a sow ! " 
 
 this counsel, a certain Sir Edmund King 
 was of a different opinion ; for meeting with 
 Watts in his youth, he said, to him, " Young 
 man, I hear that you make verses ! Let me 
 advise you never to do it but when you 
 can't help it." If there were ever a person 
 who could not help it, Joanna Baillie would 
 have said nothing more than what was 
 strictly true, when she observed that " surely 
 
 If any be not pleased, let them please 
 themselves with their own displeasure. Je 
 tiay pas enterpris de contenter tout le monde : 
 mesme Jupiter naggree a tous.^f 
 
 writing verses must have some power of 
 intoxication in it, and can turn a sensible 
 man into a fool by some process of mental 
 alchemy." 
 " Gardening," says Mr. Courtenay, in his 
 
 
 Life of Sir William Temple, " is a pursuit 
 
 
 peculiarly adapted for reconciling and com- 
 
 
 bining the tastes of the two sexes, and 
 
 
 indeed of all ages. It is, therefore, of all 
 
 
 o-*tnC'/vY-kr-r\f o *Vr* -n-n-iot ***+ nr\4 iir*l f\ f\f\n\Qa4-^ft 
 
 
 mil us cm Guts i IIL most rctciiii > vJ ui cionicsi-ic 
 affection. It is, perhaps, most warmly pur- 
 
 
 sued by the very young, and by those who 
 
 
 are far advanced in life, before the mind 
 
 
 is occupied with worldly business, and after 
 
 
 it has become disgusted with it. There is 
 
 
 nothing in it to remind of the bustle of 
 
 
 ARISTOPHANES. t BOUCHET. 
 
 political life ; and it requires neither a
 
 2G4 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 sanguine disposition nor the prospect of a 
 long life, to justify the expectation of a 
 beautiful result from the slight and easy 
 care which it exacts. Is it too much to say 
 that the mind which can with genuine taste 
 occupy itself in gardening, must have pre- 
 served some portion of youthful purity ; 
 that it must have escaped, during its pas- 
 sage through the active world its deeper 
 contaminations ; and that no shame nor 
 remorse can have found a seat in it." 
 
 Certainly it is not too much to say this of 
 Sir William Temple ; nor would it be too 
 much to say it of his biographer, whether he 
 occupy himself, or not, in gardening as well 
 as in literature, after many laborious years 
 honourably passed in political and official 
 life. 
 
 Peter Collinson, whose pious memory 
 ought to be a standing toast at the meetings 
 of the Horticultural Society, used to say 
 that he never knew an instance in which 
 the pursuit of such pleasure as the culture 
 of a garden affords, did not either find men 
 temperate and virtuous, or make them so. 
 And this may be affirmed as an undeniable 
 and not unimportant fact relating to the 
 lower classes of society, that wherever the 
 garden of a cottage, or other humble dwell- 
 ing, is carefully and neatly kept, neatness 
 and thrift, and domestic comfort, will be 
 found within doors. 
 
 When Mr. Allison settled at Thaxted 
 Grange, English gardens were beginning 
 generally to profit by the benevolent and 
 happy endeavours of Peter Collinson to im- 
 prove them. That singularly good man 
 availed himself of his mercantile connex- 
 ions, and of the opportunities afforded him 
 by the Royal Society, of which he was one 
 of the most diligent and useful members, to 
 procure seeds and plants from all parts of 
 the world, and these he liberally communi- 
 cated to his friends. So they found their 
 way first into the gardens of the curious, 
 then of the rich, and lastly, when their 
 beauty recommended them, spread them- 
 selves into those of ordinary persons. He 
 divided his time between his counting-house 
 in Gracechurch Street and his country- 
 
 house and garden, at Mill Hill, near Hen- 
 don ; it might have grieved him could he 
 have foreseen that his grounds there would 
 pass, after his death, into the hands of a 
 purchaser who, in mere ignorance, rooted 
 out the rarest plants, and cut down trees 
 which were scarcely to be found in perfec- 
 tion anywhere else in the kingdom at that 
 time. 
 
 Mr. Collinson was a man of whom it was 
 truly said that, not having any public 
 station, he was the means of procuring 
 national advantages for his country, and 
 possessed an influence in it which wealth 
 cannot purchase, and which will be honoured 
 when titles are forgotten. For thirty years 
 he executed gratuitously the commissions 
 of the Philadelphian Subscription Library, 
 the first which was established in America ; 
 he assisted the directors in their choice of 
 books, took the whole care of collecting and 
 shipping them, and transmitted to the di- 
 rectors the earliest accounts of every im- 
 provement in agriculture and the arts, and 
 of every philosophical discovery. 
 
 Franklin, who was the founder of that 
 library, made his first electrical experiments 
 with an apparatus that had been sent to it 
 as a present by Peter Collinson. He deemed 
 it therefore a proper mark of acknowledg- 
 ment to inform him of the success with 
 which it had been used, and his first Essays 
 on Electricity were originally communicated 
 in letters to this good man. They were .read 
 in the Royal Society, " where they were not 
 thought worth so much notice as to be 
 printed in their transactions ; " and his paper 
 in which the sameness of lightning with 
 electricity was first asserted, was laughed at 
 by the connoisseurs. Peter Collinson, how- 
 ever, gave the letters to Cave for the Gen- 
 tleman's Magazine ; Cave forming a better 
 judgment than the Royal Society had done, 
 printed them separately in a pamphlet, for 
 which Dr. Fothergill wrote a preface ; the 
 pamphlet by successive additions swelled to 
 a volume in quarto which went through five 
 editions, and, as Franklin observes, " cost 
 Cave nothing for copy money." 
 
 What a contrast between this English
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 265 
 
 Quaker and Monsieur Le Cour (observe, 
 reader, I call him Monsieur, lest you should 
 mistake him for a Dutchman, seeing that he 
 lived at Leyden,) who, having raised a 
 double tuberose from the seed, and propa- 
 gated it by the roots, till he had as many 
 as he could find room to plant, destroyed 
 the rest as fast as they were produced, that 
 he might boast of being the only person in 
 Europe who possessed it. Another French 
 florist of the same stamp, M. Bachelier was 
 his name, kept in like manner some beauti- 
 ful species of the anemone to himself, which 
 he had procured from the East Indies, and 
 succeeded in withholding them for ten years 
 from all who wished to possess them like- 
 wise. A counsellor of the Parliament, how- 
 ever, one day paid him a visit when they 
 were in seed, and in walking with him round 
 the garden, contrived to let his gown fall 
 upon them ; by this means he swept off a 
 good number of the seeds, and his servant, 
 who was apprised of the scheme, dexterously 
 wrapt up the gown and secured them. Any 
 one must have been a sour moralist who 
 should have considered this to be a breach 
 of the eighth commandment. 
 
 Mr. Allison was well acquainted with 
 Peter Collinson ; he and his sister sometimes 
 visited him at Mill Hill, and upon their 
 removal into Yorkshire they were supplied 
 from thence with choice fruit trees, and 
 fine varieties of the narcissus and polyan- 
 thus, which were the good Quaker's fa- 
 vourite tribes. The wall-fruits were under 
 Mr. Allison's especial care ; he called him- 
 self, indeed, First Lord of the Fruit De- 
 partment ; and if the first lords of certain 
 other departments had taken as much pains 
 :o understand their business, and to perform 
 it, the affairs of the state would have been 
 setter managed than they were in his days, 
 and than they are in ours. Some part also 
 ic took in directing the business of the 
 dtchen-garden ; but the flowers were left 
 ntirely to Betsey and her aunt. 
 
 The old poet who called himself Shepherd 
 Tonie, and whom Sir Egerton, with much 
 ikelihood, supposes to have been Anthony 
 Munday, gives in his Woodman's Walk an 
 
 unfavourable representation of provincial 
 morals, when, after forsaking the court and 
 the city, because he had found nothing but 
 selfishness and deceit in both, he tried the 
 country. 
 
 There did appear no subtle shows, 
 
 But yea and nay went smoothly : 
 But Lord ! bow country folks can glose 
 
 When they speak most untruly 1 
 More craft was in a buttoned cap 
 
 And in the old wives' rail, 
 Than in my life it was my hap 
 
 To see on down or dale. 
 There was no open forgery, 
 
 But underhanded gleaning, 
 Which they call country policy, 
 
 But hath a worser meaning. 
 Some good bold face bears out the wrong, 
 
 Because he gains thereby ; 
 The poor man's back is crackt ere long, 
 
 Yet there he lets him lie : 
 And no degree among them all 
 
 But had such close intending, 
 That I upon my knees did fall 
 
 And prayed for their amending. 
 
 If the author of these verses, or any one 
 who entertained the same opinion, had been 
 a guest of Mr. Allison's at Thaxted Grange, 
 and had remained under his roof long enough 
 to see the way of life there, and the condition 
 of the hamlet, he would have gone away with 
 a very different persuasion. It was a remark 
 of Bishop Percy's that you may discern in a 
 country parish whether there is a resident 
 clergyman or not, by the civil or savage 
 manners of the people. The influence of 
 the clergyman, however exemplary he may 
 be, is materially impaired if his benefice is 
 so poor and his means so straitened that his 
 own necessities leave him little or nothing 
 to spare ; but when such a parish priest as 
 Mr. Bacon has for his neighbour such a 
 resident landholder as his friend at the 
 Grange, happy are not the cottagers only, 
 but all who live within their sphere. 
 
 There was no alehouse in the hamlet, and 
 as the fashion of preserves had not yet been 
 introduced, there were no poachers, the in- 
 habitants being thus happily exempted from 
 two of the great temptations with which in 
 our days men of that class are continually 
 beset. If a newspaper ever found its way 
 among them, newspapers were at that time 
 harmless ; and when a hawker came he had 
 no pestiferous tracts, either seditious or sec-
 
 266 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 tarian, for sale, or for gratuitous distribution : 
 a scurvy jest-book was the worst article in 
 his assortment. Mr. Bacon had nothing to 
 counteract his pastoral labours except the 
 pravity of human nature. Of this there 
 must everywhere be but too much ; but for- 
 tunate indeed is the parish priest who finds 
 himself in like manner stationed where there 
 are no external circumstances to aggravate 
 and excite it. 
 
 Wherever more than ordinary pains were 
 bestowed upon a cottager's or farmer's gar- 
 den, Mr. Allison supplied the housewife with 
 seed of a better kind than she might other- 
 wise have been able to procure, and with 
 grafts from his most serviceable fruit trees. 
 No one who behaved well in his employ 
 was ever left in want of employment; he 
 had always some work going on, the cost of 
 which was allowed for as charity in his 
 accounts : and when he observed in a boy 
 the diligence and the disposition which made 
 it likely that an opportunity of bettering his 
 condition would not be thrown away upon 
 him, he advised, or if need were, enabled the 
 parents to educate him for trade, and at a 
 proper age provided a situation for him in 
 London. If any of their daughters desired 
 to acquire those useful arts which might 
 qualify them for domestic service, they came 
 to assist and learn from Miss Allison when 
 she distilled her waters, made her cowslip, 
 elder, and gooseberry wines, prepared her 
 pickles and preserves, dried her medicinal 
 plants, or constructed the great goose-pye, 
 which in the Christmas week was always 
 dispatched by the York coach to Bishops- 
 gate Street, for the honour of Yorkshire, 
 and the astonishment of the Londoners. 
 They came also when preparations were 
 making for a holiday, for old observances of 
 this kind were maintained as duly there as 
 by the Romans when the Laws of the 
 Twelve Tables were in use, and every man 
 constantly observed his family festivals as 
 thereby enjoined. 
 
 Pancakes on Shrove Tuesday are still in 
 general usage ; indeed I do not know that it 
 was ever deemed malignant and idolatrous 
 to eat them on that day even under the 
 
 tyranny of the Puritans. But in Mr. Alli- 
 son's days Mid-lent Sunday was not allowed 
 to pass without a wholesome and savoury 
 bowl of furmity on the social board : and 
 Easter day brought with it not only those 
 coloured eggs which are the friendly offer- 
 ing of that season throughout the whole 
 north of Europe, but the tansy pudding 
 also, originally perhaps introduced (and 
 possibly by some compulsory converts from 
 Judaism) as a representative of the bitter 
 herbs with which the Paschal Lamb was to 
 be eaten. 
 
 Both Christmas-days were kept at the 
 Grange. There were people in those times 
 who refused to keep what they called Parlia- 
 ment Christmas. But whether the old com- 
 putation or the new were right, was a point 
 on which neither the master nor mistress of 
 this house pretended to form an opinion. 
 On which day the Glastonbury Thorn blos- 
 somed they never thought it necessary to 
 inquire, nor did they go into the byre or 
 the fields to see upon which midnight the 
 oxen were to be found on their knees. 
 They agreed with Mr. Bacon that in other 
 respects it was a matter of indifference, but 
 not so that Christmas should be celebrated 
 on the same day throughout Christendom : 
 and he agreed with them that as the ritual 
 ought to be performed at the time appointed 
 by authority, so the convivial observances 
 might be regulated by the old calendar, or 
 still more fitly, repeated according to the 
 old reckoning, in deference to old feelings 
 and recollections which time had conse- 
 crated. 
 
 In Bishopsgate Street it had been found 
 convenient to set down the children and 
 their young guests on these occasions at 
 Pope- Joan, or snip-snap-snorum, which was 
 to them a more amusing because a noisier 
 game. But here was room for more legi- 
 timate gambols ; and when a young party 
 had assembled numerous enough for such 
 pastime, hunt the slipper, hot cockles, or 
 blind-man's buff were the sports of a Christ- 
 mas evening. These had been days of high 
 enjoyment to Betsey for a few years after 
 their removal into the country ; they ceased
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 267 
 
 to be so when she saw that her aunt's hair 
 was passing from the steel to the silver hue, 
 and remembered that her father had reached 
 the term of life, beyond which, in the ordi- 
 nary course of nature, our strength is but 
 labour and sorrow ; that the one was at 
 an age 
 
 When every day that comes, comes to decay 
 A day's work in us * ; 
 
 the other, 
 
 Even in the downfall of his mellowed years 
 When Nature brought him to the door of Death.* 
 
 CHAPTER CX. 
 
 A TRANSITIONAL CHAPTER, WHEREIN THE 
 AUTHOR COMPARES HIS BOOK TO AN 
 OMNIBUS AND A SHIP, QUOTES SHAKE- 
 SPEARE, MARCO ANTONIO DE CAMOS, 
 QUARLES, SPENSER, AND SOMEBODY ELSE, 
 AND INTRODUCES HIS READERS TO SOME 
 OF THE HEATHEN GODS, WITH WHOM 
 PERHAPS THEY WERE NOT ACQUAINTED 
 BEFORE. 
 
 We are not to grudge such interstitial and transitional 
 matter as may promote an easy connection of parts and 
 an elastic separation of them, and keep the reader's mind 
 upon springs as it were. 
 
 HENRY TAYLOR'S Statesman. 
 
 DEAR impatient readers, you whom I 
 know and who do not know me, and you 
 who are equally impatient, but whom I 
 cannot call equally dear, because you are 
 totally strangers to me in my out-of-cog 
 character, you who would have had me 
 hurry on 
 
 In motion of no less celerity 
 Than that of thought*, 
 
 you will not wonder, nor perhaps will you 
 blame me now, that I do not hasten to the 
 wedding-day. The day on which Deborah 
 left her father's house was the saddest that 
 she had ever known till then ; nor was there 
 one of the bridal party who did not feel 
 that this was the first of those events, in- 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 evitable and mournful all, by which their 
 little circle would be lessened, and his or 
 her manner of life or of existence changed. 
 
 There is no checking the course of time. 
 When the shadow on Hezekiah's dial went 
 back, it was in the symbol only that the 
 miracle was wrought : the minutes in every 
 other horologe held their due course. But 
 as Opifex of this opus, I, when it seems good 
 unto me, may take the hour-glass from 
 Time's hand and let it rest at a stand-still, 
 till I think fit to turn it and set the sands 
 again in motion. You who have got into 
 this my omnibus, know that like other 
 omnibuses, its speed is to be regulated, not 
 according to your individual, and perhaps 
 contrariant wishes, but by my discretion. 
 
 Moreover, I am not bound to ply with 
 this omnibus only upon a certain line. In 
 that case there would be just cause of com- 
 plaint, if you were taken out of your road. 
 
 Mas estorva y desabre en el camiao 
 Una pequana Ifgua de desvio 
 Que la Jornada larga de contino. 
 
 Whoever has at any time lost his way upon 
 a long journey can bear testimony to the 
 truth of what the Reverend Padre Maestro 
 Fray Marco Antonio de Camos says in those 
 lines. (I will tell you hereafter, reader, (for 
 it is worth telling,) why that namesake of 
 the Triumvir, when he wrote the poem from 
 whence the lines are quoted, had no thoughts 
 of dedicating it, as he afterwards did, to D. 
 Juan Piinentel y de Requesens.) But you 
 are in no danger of being bewildered, or 
 driven out of your way. It is not in a stage 
 coach that you have taken your place with 
 me, to be conveyed to a certain point, and 
 within a certain time, under such an expect- 
 ation on your part, and such an engagement 
 on mine. We will drop the metaphor of 
 the omnibus, observing, however, by the 
 bye, which is the same thing in common 
 parlance as by the way, though critically 
 there may seem to be a difference, for by 
 the bye might seem to denote a collateral 
 remark, and by the way a direct one ; ob- 
 serving, however, as I said, that as Dexter 
 called his work, or St. Jerome called it for 
 him, Omnimoda Historic^ so might this opua
 
 268 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 be not improperly denominated. You have 
 embarked with me, not for a definite voyage, 
 but for an excursion on the water ; and not 
 in a steamer, nor in a galley, nor in one of 
 the post-office packets, nor in a man-of-war, 
 nor in a merchant- vessel ; but in 
 
 A ship that's mann'd 
 
 With labouring Thoughts, and steer'd by Reason's hand. 
 My Will's the seaman's card whereby she sails ; 
 My just Affections are the greater sails, 
 The top sail is my fancy.* 
 
 Sir Guyon was not safer in Phaedria's " gon- 
 delay bedecked trim" than thou art on 
 " this wide inland sea," in my ship 
 
 That knows her port and thither sails by aim ; 
 Ne care, ne fear I how the wind do blow ; 
 Or whether swift I wend, or whether slow, 
 Both slow and swift alike do serve my turn.f 
 
 My turn is served for the present, and yours 
 also. The question who was Mrs. Dove? 
 propounded for future solution in the se- 
 cond Chapter P. I., and for immediate con- 
 sideration at the conclusion of the 71st 
 Chapter and the beginning of the 72nd, has 
 been sufficiently answered. You have been 
 made acquainted with her birth, parentage, 
 and education ; and you may rest assured that 
 if the Doctor had set out upon a tour, like 
 Ccelebs, in search of a wife, he could never 
 have found one who would in all respects 
 have suited him better. What Shakespeare 
 says of the Dauphin and the Lady Blanch 
 might seem to have been said with a second 
 sight of this union : 
 
 Such as she is 
 
 Is this our Doctor, every way complete ; 
 If not complete, O say, he is not she : 
 And she again wants nothing, to name want, 
 If want it be not, that she is not he. 
 He is the half part of a blessed man, 
 Left to be finished by such a she ; 
 And she a fair divided excellence 
 Whose fullness of perfection lies in him. 
 
 You would wish me perhaps to describe 
 her person. Sixty years had " written their 
 defeatures in her face" before I became 
 acquainted with her; yet by what those 
 years had left methinks I could conceive 
 what she had been in her youth. Go to 
 your looking-glasses, young ladies, and 
 you will not be so well able to imagine by 
 
 * QUARLES : mutatis mutandis. 
 
 t SPENSER. 
 
 what you see there, how you will look when 
 you shall have shaken hands with Three- 
 score. 
 
 One of the Elizabethan minor-poets, 
 speaking of an ideal beauty, says, 
 
 Into a slumber then I fell, 
 
 When fond. Imagination 
 Seemed to see, but could not tell, 
 
 Her feature, or her fashion. 
 But even as babes in dreams do smile, 
 
 And sometimes fall a-weeping, 
 So I awaked, as wise this while, 
 As when I fell a-sleeping. 
 
 Just as unable should I feel myself were 
 I to attempt a description from what Mrs. 
 Dove was when I knew her, of what De- 
 borah Bacon might be supposed to have 
 been, just as unable as this dreaming 
 rhymer should I be, and you would be no 
 whit the wiser. What the disposition was 
 which gave her face its permanent beauty 
 you may know by what has already been 
 said. But this I can truly say of her and of 
 her husband, that if they had lived in the 
 time of the Romans when Doncaster was 
 called Danum, and had been of what was 
 then the Roman religion, and had been 
 married, as consequently they would have 
 been, with the rites of classical Paganism, 
 it would have been believed both by their 
 neighbours and themselves that their nuptial 
 offerings had been benignly received by the 
 god Domicius and the goddesses Maturna 
 and Gamelia ; and no sacrifice to Viriplaca 
 would ever have been thought necessary in 
 that household. 
 
 CHAPTER CXI. 
 
 CONCERNING MAGAZINES, AND THE FORMER 
 AND PRESENT RACE OF ALPHABET-MEN. 
 
 Altri gli han messo name Santa Croce, 
 Altrilo chiaman I' A, B. C. gttastando 
 La misura, gl' accenti, et la sua voce. 
 
 SANSOVINO. 
 
 THE reader has now been informed who Mrs. 
 Dove was, and what she was on that day 
 of mingled joy and grief when the bells of
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 269 
 
 St. George's welcomed her to Doncaster as 
 a bride. Enough too has been related con- 
 cerning the Doctor in his single state, to 
 show that he was not unworthy of such a 
 wife. There is, however, more to be told ; 
 for any one who may suppose that a phy- 
 sician at Doncaster must have been pretty 
 much the same sort of person in the year 
 1761 as at present, can have reflected little 
 upon the changes for better and worse which 
 have been going on during the intervening 
 time. The fashions in dress and furniture 
 have not altered more than the style of in- 
 tellectual upholstery. 
 
 Our Doctor flourished in the Golden Age 
 of Magazines, when their pages were filled 
 with voluntary contributions from men who 
 never aimed at dazzling the public, but 
 came each with his scrap of information, or 
 his humble question, or his hard problem, 
 or his attempt in verse. 
 
 In those days A was an Antiquary, and 
 wrote articles upon Altars and Abbeys and 
 Architecture. B made a blunder, which C 
 corrected. D demonstrated that E was in 
 error, and that F was wrong in Philology, 
 and neither Philosopher nor Physician, 
 though he affected to be both. G was a Ge- 
 nealogist : II was an Herald, who helped him. 
 I was an inquisitive inquirer, who found 
 reason for suspecting J to be a Jesuit. M 
 was a mathematician. N noted the weather. 
 O observed the stars. P was a poet, who 
 piddled in pastorals, and prayed Mr. Urban 
 to print them. Q came in the corner of the 
 page with his query. R arrogated to him- 
 self the right of reprehending every one who 
 differed from him. S sighed and sued in 
 song. T told an old tale, and when he was 
 wrong U used to set him right. V was a 
 virtuoso. W warred against Warburton. 
 X excelled in algebra. Y yearned for im- 
 mortality in rhyme ; and Z in his zeal was 
 always in a puzzle. 
 
 Those were happy times when each little 
 star was satisfied with twinkling in his own 
 sphere. No one thought of bouncing about 
 like a cracker, singeing and burning in the 
 mere wantonness of mischief, and then going 
 out with a noise and a stink. 
 
 But now 
 
 when all this world is woxen daily worse,* 
 
 see what a change has taken place through 
 the whole Chriscross Row ! As for A, there 
 is Alaric Watts with his Souvenir, and 
 Ackerman with his Forget-me-not, and all 
 the rest of the Annual Albumers. B is a 
 blackguard, and blusters in a popular Ma- 
 gazine. C is a coxcomb who concocts fashion- 
 able novels for Colburn ; and D is a dunce 
 who admires him. E, being empty and 
 envious, thinks himself eminently qualified 
 for Editor of a Literary Gazette. F figures 
 as a fop in Knight's Quarterly. G is a 
 general reformer, and dealer in Greek scrip. 
 H is Humbug and Hume ; and for my I, it 
 may always be found with Mr. Irving and 
 Mrs. Elizabeth Martin. J jeers at the 
 Clergy in Mr. Jeffery's journal. K kicks 
 against the pricks with his friend L, who is 
 Leigh Hunt, the Liberal. M manufactures 
 mischief for the Morning Chronicle. N is 
 nobody knows who, that manufactures jokes 
 for John Bull, and fathers them upon Rogers. 
 O is an obstreperous orator. P was Peter 
 Pindar, and is now Paul Pry. Q is the 
 Quarterly Review, and R S Robert Southey, 
 who writes in it. T tells lies in the Old 
 Times. U is a Unitarian who hopes to be 
 Professor of Theology at the London Uni- 
 versity. V is Vivian Grey. W is Sir 
 Walter Scott. X the Ex- Sheriff Parkins. 
 Y was the Young Roscius; and Z, Zounds, 
 who can Z be, but Zachary Macauley ? 
 Oh, 
 
 * e oggidi vivesse in terra 
 
 Democrito, (perche di lagrimare 
 lo non son vago, e perd taccio il name 
 D' Eraclito dolente ;) or, se vivesse 
 Fro" mortali Democrito, per certo 
 Ei si smascellerebbe della risa, 
 Guardando le sciocchexxe de' mortaU.\ 
 
 t CHIABRBJU.
 
 270 
 
 THE DOCTOR, 
 
 CHAPTER CXII. 
 
 HUNTING IN AN EAST CHAIR. 
 BOOKS. 
 
 THE DOCTOR S 
 
 That place that does contain 
 My books, the best companions, is to me 
 A glorious court, where hourly I converse 
 With the old sages and philosophers ; 
 And sometimes for variety I confer 
 With Kings and Emperors, and weigh their counsels, 
 Calling their victories, if unjustly got. 
 Unto a strict account, and in my fancy 
 Deface their ill placed statues. 
 
 BEAUMONT and FLETCHER 
 
 A CERTAIN Ludovicus Bosch, instead of 
 having his coat of arms, or his cypher en- 
 graved to put in his books, had a little print 
 of himself in his library. The room has a 
 venerable collegiate character; there is a 
 crucifix on the table, and a goodly propor- 
 tion of folios on the shelves. Bosch, in a 
 clerical dress, is seated in an easy chair, 
 cogitabund, with a manuscript open before 
 him, a long pen in his hand, and on his 
 head a wig which, with all proper respect 
 for the dignity and vocation of the wearer, 
 I cannot but honestly denominate a caxon. 
 The caxon quizzifies the figure, and thereby 
 mars the effect of what would otherwise 
 have been a pleasing as well as appropriate 
 design. Underneath in the scrolled framing 
 is this verse, 
 
 In tali nunqitam lass at venatio sylvd. 
 
 Dr. Charles Balguy, of Peterborough, had 
 for the same purpose a design which, though 
 equally appropriate, was not so well con- 
 ceived. His escutcheon, with the words 
 
 Jttcunda oblivia vita; 
 
 above, and his name and place of abode 
 below, is suspended against an architectural 
 pile of books. It was printed in green. I 
 found it in one of our own Doctor's out-of- 
 the-way volumes, a thin foolscap quarto, 
 printed at Turin, 1589, being a treatise 
 delta natura de" cibi et del bere, by Baldas- 
 sare Pisanelli, a physician of Bologna. 
 
 Dr. Balguy's motto would not have suited 
 our Doctor. For though books were among 
 the comforts and enjoyments of his life from 
 boyhood to old age, they never made him 
 
 oblivious of its business. Like Ludovicus 
 Bosch, but remember, I beseech you, 
 Ladies! his wig was not a caxon ; and, more- 
 over, that when he gave an early hour to 
 his books, it was before the wig was put on, 
 and that when he had a leisure evening for 
 them, off went the wig, and a velvet or 
 silken cap, according to the season, supplied 
 its place ; like Bosch, I say, when he was 
 seated in his library, but in no such con- 
 ventual or collegiate apartment, and with 
 no such assemblage of folios, quartos, and 
 all inferior sizes, substantially bound, in ve- 
 nerable condition, and " in seemly order 
 ranged ; " nor with that atmospheric odour 
 of antiquity, and books, which is more grate- 
 ful to the olfactories of a student than the 
 fumes of any pastille ; but in a little room, 
 with a ragged regiment upon his shelves, and 
 an odour of the shop from below, in which 
 rhubarb predominated, though it was some- 
 times overpowered by valerian, dear to cats, 
 or assafcetida wliiei sprung up, say the 
 Turks, in Paradise, upon the spot where the 
 Devil first set his foot : like Bosch, I say, 
 once more and without farther parenthesis, 
 
 TOLtttf e /jL'ffa 
 
 like Bosch, the Doctor never was weary with 
 pursuing the game that might be started in 
 a library. And though there was no forest 
 at hand, there were some small preserves in 
 the neighbourhood, over which he was at 
 liberty to range. 
 
 Perhaps the reader's memory may serve 
 him, where mine is just now at fault, and he 
 may do for himself, what some future editor 
 will do for me, that is supply the name of a 
 man of letters who, in his second childhood, 
 devised a new mode of book-hunting : he 
 used to remove one of the books in his 
 library from its proper place, and when he 
 had forgotten, as he soon did, where it had 
 been put, he hunted the shelves till he 
 found it. There will be some who see no- 
 thing more in this affecting anecdote than 
 an exemplification of the vanity of human 
 pursuits ; but it is not refining too much, if 
 
 * EDRIPIDES.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 9.71 
 
 I we perceive in it a consolatory mark of a 
 cheerful and philosophical mind, retaining 
 its character even when far in decay. For 
 no one who had not acquired a habit of 
 happy philosophy would have extracted 
 amusement from his infirmities, and made 
 the failure of his memory serve to beguile 
 some of those hours which could then no 
 longer be profitably employed. 
 
 Circulating libraries, which serve for the 
 most part to promote useless reading, were 
 not known when Daniel Dove set up his 
 rest at Doncaster. It was about that time 
 that a dissenting minister, Samuel Fancourt 
 by name, opened the first in London, of 
 course upon a very contracted scale. Book 
 clubs are of much later institution. There 
 was no bookseller in Doncaster till several 
 years afterwards : sometimes an itinerant 
 dealer in such wares opened a stall there on 
 a market day, as Johnson's father used to 
 do at Birmingham ; and one or two of the 
 trade regularly kept the fair. A little of 
 the live stock of the London publishers 
 found its way thither at such times, and 
 more of their dead stock, with a regular 
 supply of certain works popular enough to 
 be printed in a cheap form for this kind of 
 sale. And when, at the breaking up of a 
 household, such books as the deceased or 
 removing owner happened to possess were 
 sold off with the furniture, those which 
 found no better purchaser on the spot 
 usually came into the hands of one of these 
 dealers, and made the tour of the neigh- 
 bouring markets. It was from such strag- 
 glers that the Doctor's ragged regiment had 
 been chiefly raised. Indeed he was so fre- 
 quent a customer, that the stall-keepers 
 generally offered to his noti*:e any English 
 book which they thought likely to take his 
 fancy, and any one in a foreign language 
 which had not the appearance of a school- 
 book. And when in one book he found such 
 references to another as made him desirous 
 of possessing, or at least consulting it, he 
 employed a person at York to make inquiry 
 for it there. 
 
 CHAPTER CXIII. 
 
 THOMAS GENT AND ALICE GUY, A TRUE TALE, 
 SHOWING THAT A WOMAN'S CONSTANCY 
 WILL NOT ALWAYS HOLD OUT LONGER 
 THAN TROY TOWN, AND YET THE WOMAN 
 MAY NOT BE THE PARTY WHO IS MOST IN 
 FAULT. 
 
 lo dico, non dimando 
 Quel che tu vnoi udir, perch' to f ho visto 
 Ove s' uppunta ogni ubi, e ogni quando. 
 
 DANTE. 
 
 THE person whom the Doctor employed in 
 collecting certain books for him, and whom 
 Peter Hopkins had employed in the same 
 way, was that Thomas Gent of whom it was 
 incidentally said in the 47th Chapter that he 
 published the old poem of Flodden Field, 
 from a transcript made by Daniel's kind- 
 hearted schoolmaster, Richard Guy, whose 
 daughter he married. Since that chapter 
 was written an account of Gent's life, writ- 
 ten by himself in 1746, when he was in his 
 53d year, and in his own handwriting, was 
 discovered by Mr. Thorpe, the bookseller, 
 among a collection of books from Ireland, 
 and published by him, with a portrait of 
 the author, copied from a fine mezzotinto 
 engraving by Valentine Green, which is well 
 known to collectors. Gent was a very old 
 man when that portrait was taken ; and his 
 fine loose-flowing silver hair gave great 
 effect to a singularly animated and cheerful 
 face. His autobiography is as characteristic 
 as John Dunton's, and like it contains much 
 information relating to the state of the press 
 in his days, and the trade of literature. A 
 few curious notices occur in it of the man- 
 ners and transactions of those times. But 
 the portion pertinent to the business of these 
 volumes is that which in its consequences 
 led him to become the Doctor's purveyor of 
 old books in the ancient city of York. 
 
 Gent, though descended, he says, from 
 the Gents of Staffordshire, was born in 
 Dublin : his parents were good people in 
 humble life, who trained him up in the way 
 he should go, gave him the best education 
 their means could afford, and apprenticed 
 him to a printer, from whom, after three
 
 272 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 years' service, he ran away, because of the 
 brutal usage which he received. He got 
 on board ship with little more than a shil- 
 ling in his pocket, and was landed at Park- 
 gate to seek his fortune. But having made 
 good use of the time which he had served 
 with his tyrannical master, he obtained em- 
 ployment in London, and made himself use- 
 ful to his employers. After having been 
 four years there, he accepted an offer from 
 Mr. White, who, as a reward for printing 
 the Prince of Orange's Declaration when all 
 the printers in London refused to undertake 
 so dangerous a piece of work, was made 
 King's printer for York and five other coun- 
 ties. Mr. White had plenty of business, 
 there being few printers in England, except 
 in London, at that time ; " None," says Gent, 
 " I am sure, at Chester, Liverpool, White- 
 haven, Preston, Manchester, Kendal, and 
 Leeds. The offer was eighteen pounds a 
 year, with board, washing, and lodging, and 
 a guinea to bear his charges on the road. 
 Twenty shillings of this I offered," he says, 
 " to Crofts the carrier, a very surly young 
 fellow as ever I conversed with, but he 
 would have five or six shillings more ; find- 
 ing him so stiff with me, I resolved to ven- 
 ture on foot. He set out with his horses on 
 Monday, and the next morning, being the 
 20th of April, 1714, I set forward, and Lad 
 not, I think, walked three miles, when a 
 gentleman's servant with a horse ready sad- 
 dled and himself riding another, overtook 
 me, and for a shilling, with a glass or so on 
 the road, allowed me to ride with him as 
 far as Caxton, which was the period of his 
 journey." 
 
 Having reached York about twelve o'clock 
 on the Sunday following, and found the way 
 to Mr. White's house, the door was opened 
 by the head-maiden. " She ushered me," 
 says Gent, " into the chamber where Mrs. 
 White lay something ill in bed ; but the old 
 gentleman was at his dinner, by the fire- 
 side, sitting in a noble arm-chair, with a 
 good large pie before him, and made me 
 partake heartily with him. I had a guinea 
 in my shoe lining, which I pulled out to 
 ease my foot ; at which the old gentleman 
 
 smiled, and pleasantly said, it was more than 
 he had ever seen a journeyman save before. 
 I could not but smile too, because my trunk, 
 with my clothes and eight guineas, was sent, 
 about a month before to Ireland, where I 
 was resolved to go and see my friends had his 
 place not offered to me as it did." 
 
 Gent was as happy as he could wish here, 
 and as he earned money bought clothes to 
 serve him till he should rejoin his trunk in 
 Dublin, which at the year's end he deter- 
 mined to do, refusing to renew his engage- 
 ment till he had visited his parents. " Yet," 
 says he, " what made my departure some- 
 what uneasy, I scarce then well knew how, 
 was through respect of Mrs. Alice Guy, the 
 young woman who I said first opened the 
 door to me, upper maiden to Mrs. White, 
 who, I was persuaded to believe, had the 
 like mutual fondness for me she was the 
 daughter of Mr. Richard Guy, schoolmaster 
 at Ingleton, near Lancashire ; had very good 
 natural parts, quick understanding, was of 
 a fine complexion, and very amiable in her 
 features. Indeed I was not very forward in 
 love, or desire of matrimony, till I knew 
 the world better, and consequently should 
 be more able to provide such a handsome 
 maintenance as I confess I had ambition 
 enough to desire ; but yet my heart could 
 not absolutely slight so lovely a young crea- 
 ture as to pretend I had no esteem for her 
 charms, which had captivated others, and par- 
 ticularly my master's grandson, Mr. Charles 
 Bourne, who was more deserving than any. 
 However I told her (because my irresolution 
 should not anticipate her advancement,) 
 that I should respect her as one of the 
 dearest of friends ; and receiving a little dog 
 from her as a companion on the road, I 
 had the honour to be accompanied as far as 
 Bramham Moor by my rival." 
 
 He was received by his parents like the 
 Prodigal son, and had engaged himself as 
 journeyman in Dublin, when his old master 
 Powell employed officers to seize him for 
 leaving his apprenticeship. It was in vain 
 that his father and a friendly brother-in-law 
 offered a fair sum for his release, while he 
 concealed himself; more was demanded than
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 273 
 
 would have been proper for them to give ; 
 there was no other remedy than to leave 
 Ireland once more, and as about that time 
 he had received a letter from his dearest at 
 York, saying that he was expected there, 
 thither, purely again to enjoy her company, 
 he resolved to direct his course. His friends 
 were much concerned at their parting, " but 
 my unlucky whelp," says he, " that a little 
 before, while taking a glass with Mr. Hume 
 (the printer with whom I had engaged), had 
 torn my new hat in pieces, seemed nowise 
 affected by my taking boat; so I let the 
 rascal stay with my dear parents who were 
 fond of him for my sake, as he was of them 
 for his own ; nor was he less pleasant by his 
 tricks to the neighbourhood, who called him 
 Yorkshire, from the country whence I 
 brought him." 
 
 There is a chasm in this part of the manu- 
 script : it appears, however, that he remained 
 some months at York, and then went to Lon- 
 don, where he was as careful as possible in 
 saving what he had earned, " but yet," says 
 he, " could not perceive a prospect of settle- 
 ment whereby to maintain a spouse like her 
 as I judged she deserved, and I could not 
 bear the thoughts to bring her from a good 
 settlement, without I could certainly make 
 us both happy in a better." He went on, 
 however, industriously and prosperously, had 
 "the great happiness" in the year 1717 of 
 being made freeman of the company of Sta- 
 tioners, and in the same year commenced 
 citizen of London, his share of the treat that 
 day with other expenses coming to about five 
 pounds. Now that he was beyond his reach, 
 his old tyrant in Dublin was glad to accept 
 of five pounds for his discharge ; this money 
 he remitted, and thus became absolutely free 
 both in England and Ireland, for which he 
 gave sincere thanks to the Almighty. 
 
 " And now," says he, " I thought myself 
 happy, when the thoughts of my dearest often 
 occurred to my mind : God knows it is but 
 too common, and that with the best and most 
 considerate persons, that something or other 
 gives them disquietude or makes them seek 
 after it." A partnership at Norwich was 
 offered him, and he accepted it ; but a few 
 
 hours afterwards there came a mournful 
 letter from his parents, saying that they 
 were very infirm, and extremely desirous to 
 see him once more before they died. It is 
 to Gent's honour that he immediately gave 
 up his engagement at Norwich, though the 
 stage coach had been ordered to receive 
 him. The person whom he recommended in 
 his stead was Mr. Robert Raikes, who when 
 Gent wrote these memoirs was settled as a 
 master in Gloucester ; he became the father 
 of a singularly prosperous family, and one 
 of his sons, his successor in the printing 
 office, is well known as the person who first 
 established Sunday schools. 
 
 Yet though Gent acted under an impulse 
 of natural duty on this occasion, he confesses 
 that he was not without some cause for self- 
 reproach : " I wrote," said he, " a lamenting 
 letter to my dear in York, bewailing that I 
 could not find a proper place as yet to settle 
 in, told her that I was leaving the kingdom, 
 and reminded her by what had passed that 
 she could not be ignorant where to direct if 
 she thought proper so to do ; that I was far 
 from slighting her, and resigned her to none 
 but the protection of Heaven. But sure 
 never was poor creature afflicted with such 
 melancholy as I was upon my journey, my 
 soul did seem to utter within me, 'wretch 
 that I am, what am I doing, and whither 
 going ? ' My parents, it's true, as they were 
 constantly most affectionate, so indeed they 
 are, especially in far advanced years, pecu- 
 liar objects of my care and esteem ; but am 
 I not only leaving England, the Paradise of 
 the world, to which as any loyal subject I 
 have now an indubitable right, but am I not 
 also departing, for aught I know for ever, 
 from the dearest creature upon earth ? from 
 her that loved me when I knew not well 
 how to respect myself; who was wont to 
 give me sweet counsel in order for my 
 future happiness, equally partook of those 
 deep sorrows which our tender love had oc- 
 casioned, was willing to undergo all hazards 
 with me in this troublesome life, whose kind 
 letters had so often proved like healing balm 
 to my languishing condition, and whose con- 
 stancy, had I been as equally faithful and
 
 274 
 
 THE DOCTOR, 
 
 not so timorous of being espoused through 
 too many perplexing doubts, would never 
 have been shaken, and without question 
 would have promoted the greatest happiness 
 for which I was created." 
 
 These self-reproaches, which were not 
 undeserved, made him ill on the road. He 
 reached Dublin, however, and though the 
 employment which he got there was not 
 nearly so profitable as what he had had in 
 London, love for his parents made him con- 
 tented, "and took," he says, "all thoughts 
 of further advantages away, till Mr. Alex- 
 ander Campbell, a Scotchman in the same 
 printing office with me, getting me in liquor, 
 obtained a promise that I should accompany 
 him to England, where there was a greater 
 likelihood of prosperity. Accordingly he so 
 pressed me, and gave such reasons to my 
 dear parents that it was not worth while to 
 stay there for such small business as we 
 enjoyed, that they consented we should go 
 together : but alas ! their melting tears 
 made mine to flow, and bedewed my pillow 
 every night after that I lodged with them. 
 ' What, Tommy,' my mother would some- 
 times say, ' this English damsel of yours, I 
 suppose, is the chiefest reason why you 
 slight us and your native country ! ' ' Well,' 
 added she, ' the ways of Providence I know 
 are unsearchable ; and whether I live to see 
 you again or no, I shall pray God to be 
 your defender and preserver!' I thought 
 it not fit to accumulate sorrows to us all, by 
 returning any afflictive answers ; but taking 
 an opportunity whilst she was abroad on her 
 business, I embarked with my friend once 
 more for England." 
 
 Tommy, however, made the heart of his 
 English damsel sick with hope long deferred. 
 He was provident overmuch ; and this he 
 acknowledges even when endeavouring to 
 excuse himself: "all that I had under- 
 gone I must confess," he says, " I thought 
 were but my just deserts for being so long 
 absent from my dear," (it had now been an 
 absence of some years), " and yet I could 
 not well help it. I had a little money it is 
 very true, but no certain home wherein to 
 invite her. I knew she was well fixed ; and 
 
 it pierced me to the very heart to think, if 
 through any miscarriage or misfortune I 
 should alter her condition for the Avorse 
 instead of the better. Upon this account 
 my letters to her at this time were not so 
 amorously obliging as they ought to have 
 been from a sincere lover ; by which she 
 had reason, however she might have been 
 mistaken, to think that I had failed in my 
 part of those tender engagements which had 
 passed between us." 
 
 Gent had sometimes the honour of being 
 the Bellman's poet, and used to get heartily 
 treated for the Christmas verses which he 
 composed in that capacity. One lucky day 
 he happened to meet his friend Mr. Evan 
 Ellis, who was the Bellman's printer in 
 ordinary : " Tommy," said his friend, " I am 
 persuaded that some time or other you'll set 
 up a press in the country, where, I believe, 
 you have a pretty northern lass at heart; 
 and as I believe you save money and can 
 spare it, I can help you to a good penny- 
 worth preparatory to your design." Ac- 
 cordingly upon this recommendation he 
 purchased at a cheap price a considerable 
 quantity of old types, which Mr. Mist, the 
 proprietor of a journal well known at that 
 time by his name, had designed for the 
 furnace. To this he added a font almost 
 new, resolving to venture in the world 
 with his dearest, who at first, he says, gave 
 him encouragement. He does not say that 
 she ever discouraged him, and his own 
 resolution appears to have been but half- 
 hearted. His purse being much exhausted 
 by these purchases, he still worked on for 
 further supplies ; by and by he bought a 
 new font, and so went on increasing his 
 stock, working for his old first master and 
 for himself also, and occasionally employing 
 servants himself, though the fatigue was 
 exceedingly great and almost more than he 
 could go through. Alas the while for Alice 
 Guy, who was now in the tenth year of her 
 engagement to lukewarm Thomas ! 
 
 Lukewarm Thomas imagined " things 
 would so fall out that after some little time 
 he should have occasion to invite his dear 
 to London." But let him tell his own
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 275 
 
 story. " One Sunday morning, as my shoes 
 were japanning by a little boy at the end of 
 the lane, there came Mr. John Hoyle, who 
 had been a long time in a messenger's cus- 
 tody on suspicion for reprinting Vox Popidi 
 Vox Dei, under direction of Mrs. Powell, 
 with whom he wrought as journeyman ; 
 'Mr. Gent,' said he, 'I have been at York 
 to see my parents, and am but just as it 
 were returned to London. I am heartily 
 glad to see you, but sorry to tell you that 
 you have lost your old sweetheart ; for I 
 assure you that she is really married to your 
 rival Mr. Bourne ! ' I was so thunderstruck 
 that I could scarcely return an answer, 
 all former thoughts crowding into my mind, 
 the consideration of spending my substance 
 on a business I would not have engaged in 
 as a master but for her sake, my own re- 
 missness that had occasioned it, and withal 
 that she could not in such a case be much 
 blamed for mending her fortune, all these 
 threw me under a very deep concern." 
 
 He consoled himself as Petrarch had 
 done : and opening his old vein of poetry 
 and bell-metal, gave some vent to his pas- 
 sion by writing a copy of verses to the tune 
 of " Such charms has Phillis ! " then much 
 in request, and proper for the flute. He 
 entitled it " The Forsaken Lover's Letter to 
 his former Sweetheart." " When I had 
 done," says he, " as I did not care that Mr. 
 Midwinter (his master) should know of my 
 great disappointment, I gave the copy to 
 Mr. Dodd, who printing the same sold 
 thousands of them, for which he offered me 
 a price ; but as it was on my own proper 
 concern, I scorned to accept of anything 
 except a glass of comfort or so." If the 
 Forsaken Lover's Lamentation had been 
 sung about the streets of York, Mrs. Bourne 
 might have listened to it without suspecting 
 that she was the treacherous maid, who for 
 the sake of this world's splendour had be- 
 trayed her only sweet jewel, left him to 
 languish alone, and broken his heart, 
 
 Proving that none could be falser than she. 
 
 Conscience would never have whispered 
 to her that it was lukewarm Thomas who 
 
 closed his complaint with the desperate 
 determination expressed in the ensuing 
 stanza. 
 
 Now to the woods and groves I'll be ranging. 
 
 Free from all women I'll vent forth my grief: 
 While birds are singing and sweet notes exchanging, 
 
 This pleasing concert will yield me relief. 
 Thus like the swan before its departing 
 
 Sings forth its elegy in melting strains, 
 My dying words shall move all the kind powers above 
 
 To pity my fate, the most wretched of swains. 
 
 He neither went to the woods, nor died ; 
 but entered into an engagement with Mr. 
 Dodd's widow to manage her printing busi- 
 ness, being the more willing to enter into 
 the service of this gentlewoman since he was 
 disappointed of his first love. The widow 
 was a most agreeable person, daughter to a 
 sea captain, and had been educated at the 
 boarding-school at Hackney : Dodd was her 
 second husband, and she had been left with 
 a child by each. " I thought her," says 
 Gent, " worthy of the best of spouses ; for 
 sure there never could be a finer economist 
 or sweeter mother to her dear children, 
 whom she kept exceedingly decent. I have 
 dined with her; but then as in reason I 
 allowed what was fitting for my meals, and 
 her conversation, agreeably to her fine 
 education, almost wounded me with love, 
 and at the same time commanded a becom- 
 ing reverence. What made her excellent 
 carriage the more endearing was, that I 
 now must never expect to behold my first 
 love at York : though I heard by travellers 
 that not only she, but her husband used to 
 inquire after me. Indeed I was sensible 
 that Mr. Bourne, though a likely young 
 man, was not one of the most healthful 
 persons; but far from imagining otherwise 
 than that he might have outlived me who 
 then was worn to a shadow. But, see the 
 wonderful effects of Divine Providence in 
 all things ! 
 
 " It was one Sunday morning that Mr. 
 Philip Wood, a quondam partner at Mr. 
 Midwinter's, entering my chambers where I 
 sometimes used to employ him too when 
 slack of business in other places 'Tommy,' 
 said he, ' all these fine materials of yours, 
 must be moved to York ! ' At which won-
 
 276 
 
 THE DOCTOR, 
 
 dering, 'what mean you?' said I. 'Ay,' 
 said he, ' and you must go too, without it's 
 your own fault; for your first sweetheart 
 is now at liberty, and left in good circum- 
 stances by her dear spouse, who deceased 
 but of late.' ' I pray heaven,' answered I, 
 ' that his precious soul may be happy : and 
 for aught I know it may be as you say, for, 
 indeed, I think I may not trifle with a widow 
 as I have formerly done with a maid.' I 
 made an excuse to my mistress that I had 
 business in Ireland, but that I hoped to be 
 at my own lodgings in about a month's 
 time ; if not, as I had placed everything in 
 order, she might easily by any other person 
 carry on the business. But she said she 
 would not have any beside me in that sta- 
 tion I enjoyed, and therefore should expect 
 my return to her again : but respectfully 
 taking leave, I never beheld her after, 
 though I heard she was after very indiffe- 
 rently married. I had taken care that my 
 goods should be privately packed up, and 
 hired a little warehouse and put them in 
 ready to be sent, by sea or land, to where I 
 should order : and I pitched upon Mr. 
 Campbell, my fellow-traveller, as my con- 
 fidant in this affair, desiring my cousins to 
 assist him ; all of whom I took leave of at 
 the Black Swan in Holborn, where I had 
 paid my passage in the stage coach, which 
 brought me to York in four days' time. 
 Here I found my dearest once more, though 
 much altered from what she was about ten 
 years before that I had not seen her. There 
 was no need for new courtship ; but decency 
 suspended the ceremony of marriage for 
 some time : till my dearest at length, con- 
 sidering the ill -consequence of delay in her 
 business, as well as the former ties of love 
 that passed innocently between us by word 
 and writing, gave full consent to have the 
 nuptials celebrated," and performed ac- 
 cordingly they were, " in the stately ca- 
 thedral," the very day of Archbishop 
 Blackburne's installation. 
 
 CHAPTER CXIV. 
 
 THE AUTHOR HINTS AT CERTAIN CIRCUM- 
 STANCES IN THE LIFE OF THOMAS GENT 
 ON WHICH HE DOES NOT THINK IT NE- 
 CESSARY TO DWELL. 
 
 Round white stones will serve, they say, 
 As well as eggs, to make hens lay. 
 
 BUTLER. 
 
 If I were given to prolixity, and allowed 
 myself to be led away from the subject be- 
 fore me, I might here be tempted to relate 
 certain particulars concerning Thomas Gent; 
 how under his first London master, Mr. 
 Midwinter, whose house was a ballad-house, 
 "he worked many times from five in the 
 morning till twelve at night, and frequently 
 without food from breakfast till five or six 
 in the evening, through their hurry with 
 hawkers." And how in that same service 
 he wrote, which is to say in modern lan- 
 guage reported. Dr. Sacheverel's sermon 
 after his suspension, for which his master 
 gave him a crown-piece, and a pair of 
 breeches, not before they were wanted ; 
 and by which the said master gained nearly 
 thirty pounds in the course of the week. 
 And how he once engaged with Mr. Francis 
 Clifton, who having had a liberal education 
 at Oxford proved a Papist, set up a press, 
 printed a newspaper, and getting in debt 
 moved his goods into the liberty of the 
 Fleet, and there became entered as a pri- 
 soner ; and how Gent sometimes in extreme 
 weather worked for him under a mean shed 
 adjoining to the prison walls, when snow 
 and rain fell alternately on the cases, yet, he 
 says, the number of wide-mouthed sten- 
 torian hawkers, brisk trade, and very often 
 a glass of good ale, revived the drooping 
 spirits of him and his fellow workmen ; and 
 he often admired the success of this Mr. 
 Clifton in his station, for whether through 
 pity of mankind, or the immediate hand of 
 Divine Providence to his family, advan- 
 tageous jobs so often flowed upon him as 
 gave him cause to be merry under his heavy 
 misfortunes.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 277 
 
 And how while in this employ a piece j 
 ot work came iii which he composed and j 
 helped to work off, but was not permitted i 
 to know who was the author. It was a 
 vindication of an honest clergyman who had 
 been committed to the King's Bench upon 
 an action of scandalum magnatum : however, 
 says he, "when finished, the papers were 
 packed up, and delivered to my care ; and 
 the same night, my master hiring a coach, 
 we were driven to Westminster, where we 
 entered into a large sort of monastic build- 
 ing. Soon were we ushered into a spacious 
 hall, where we sate near a large table 
 covered with an ancient carpet of curious 
 work, and whereon was soon laid a bottle of 
 wine for our entertainment. In a little time 
 we were visited by a grave gentleman in a 
 black lay habit, who entertained us with one 
 pleasant discourse or other. He bid us be 
 secret ; for, said he, the imprisoned divine 
 does not know who is his defender ; and if 
 he did, I know his temper ; in a sort of 
 transport he would reveal it, and so I should 
 be blamed for my good office : and whether 
 his intention was designed to show his 
 gratitude, yet if a man is hurt by a friend, 
 the damage is the same as if done by an 
 enemy : to prevent which is the reason I 
 desire this concealment. 'You need not fear 
 me, Sir,' said my master ; ' and I, good Sir,' 
 added I, 'you may be less afraid of; for I 
 protest I do not know where I am, much 
 less your person, nor heard where I should 
 be driven, or if I shall not be driven to 
 Jerusalem before I get home again. Nay, 
 I shall forget I ever did the job by to-mor- 
 row, and consequently shall never answer 
 any questions about it, if demanded. Yet, 
 Sir, I shall secretly remember your gene- 
 rosity, and drink to your health with this 
 brimfull glass.' Thereupon this set them 
 both a-langhing, and truly I was got merrily 
 tipsy, so merry that I hardly knew how I 
 was driven homewards. For my part I was 
 ever inclined to secresy and fidelity ; and 
 therefore I was nowise inquisitive concern- 
 ing our hospitable entertainer. But hap- 
 pening afterwards to behold a state prisoner 
 in a coach, guarded from Westminster to 
 
 the Tower, God bless me, thought I, it was 
 no less than the Bishop of Rochester, Dr. 
 Atterbury, by whom my master and I had 
 been treated ! " 
 
 Were I to ramble from my immediate 
 purpose I might relate how Gent saw Mr. 
 John Mathews, a young printer, drawn on 
 a sledge to the place of execution, where he 
 suffered for high treason ; and how Ma- 
 thews's clothes were exceeding neat, the 
 lining of his coat a rich Persian silk, and 
 every other thing as befitted a gentleman ; 
 and how he talked of death like a philoso- 
 pher to some young ladies who came to take 
 their farewell. This poor youth was but in 
 his nineteenth year, and not out of his ap- 
 prenticeship to his mother and brother. He 
 had been under misfortunes before, and 
 through the favour of the government at 
 that time was discharged, at which time 
 his brother had given public orders to the 
 people in his employ that if ever they found 
 John either doing or speaking anything 
 against the government, they would inform 
 him that he might take a proper method to 
 prevent it. Nevertheless, for ten guineas, 
 he, with the assistance of another appren- 
 tice and a journeyman, printed a treason- 
 able paper intitled Vox Populi Vox Dei, 
 containing direct incitement to rebellion. I 
 might relate also how this journeyman 
 Lawrence Vezey, who went by the name of 
 old gentleman in the printing-office, and who 
 had not the character of an honest man 
 about his printing ; and who, moreover, had 
 gone to the criminal's mother and offered to 
 go out of the way if she would give him 
 money, and accordingly had gone to St. 
 Albans, and staid there nine days, but no 
 money coming, he could not stay out of the 
 way longer, but seems rather to have been 
 suspected of putting himself in the way, 
 I might, I say, relate how this Vezey did 
 not long survive the ill-fated youth ; and 
 how at his burial, in an obscure part of 
 Islington churchyard, many of the printers' 
 boys, called devils, made a noise like such, 
 with their ball stocks carried thither for 
 that purpose, and how the minister was 
 much interrupted thereby in the Burial
 
 278 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 service, and shameful indignities were com- 
 mitted at the grave : and how the printers, 
 who had been at Islington that day, had 
 their names sent off to the Courts of West- 
 minster, where it cost their pockets pretty 
 well before their persons were discharged 
 from trouble. But Gent, who desired to be 
 out of harm's way, had shunned what he 
 called the crew of demons with their in- 
 cendiaries to a mischief. 
 
 I might also relate how he once carried 
 skull caps made of printing balls stuffed 
 with wool to his brother printers, who were 
 to exhibit their faces in that wooden frame 
 called the pillory; in which frame, never- 
 theless, he seems to think they were properly 
 set ; and the mob were of the same opinion, 
 for these skull caps proved but weak helmets 
 against the missiles wherewith they were 
 assailed. Moreover, further to exemplify 
 the perils which in those days environed the 
 men who meddled with printer's types, I 
 might proceed to say how, after a strange 
 dream, poor Gent was in the dead of the 
 night alarmed by a strange thundering 
 noise at the door, and his door broken open, 
 and himself seized in his bed by two king's 
 messengers upon a false information that he 
 had been engaged in printing some lines 
 concerning the imprisoned Bishop of Ro- 
 chester, which had given offence ; and how 
 he was carried to a public-house near St. 
 Sepulchre's Church, whither his two em- 
 ployers Mr. Midwinter and Mr. Clifton 
 were also brought prisoners, and how they 
 were taken to Westminster and there im- 
 prisoned in a very fine house in Manchester 
 Court which had nevertheless within the 
 fusty smell of a prison ; and how from the 
 high window of his humble back apartment 
 he could behold the Thames, and hear the 
 dashing of the flowing waters against the 
 walls that kept it within due bounds : and 
 how in the next room to him was confined 
 that unhappy young Irish clergyman Mr. 
 Neynoe" (not Naypoe as the name in these 
 memoirs is erroneously given). " I used," 
 says Gent, "to hear him talk to himself when 
 his raving fits came on ; and now and then 
 would he sing psalms with such a melodious 
 
 voice as produced both admiration and pity 
 from me, who was an object of commisera- 
 tion myself, in being awhile debarred from 
 friends to see me, or the use of pen, ink, and 
 paper to write to them." And how after 
 five days he was honourably discharged, and 
 took boat from Palace- Yard stairs, in which, 
 he says, "my head seemed to be affected 
 with a strange giddiness ; and when I safely 
 arrived at home, some of my kinder neigh- 
 bours appeared very joyful at my return. 
 And my poor linnet, whose death I very 
 much feared would come to pass, saluted 
 me with her long, pleasant, chirping notes ; 
 and, indeed, the poor creature had occasion 
 to be the most joyful, for her necessary stock 
 was almost exhausted, and I was come just 
 in the critical time to yield her a fresh 
 supply." It was some compensation for his 
 fright on this occasion that he printed the 
 Bishop of Rochester's Effigy "with some 
 inoffensive verses that pleased all parties," 
 which sold very well ; and that he formed 
 some observations upon the few dying words 
 of Counsellor Layer, in nature of a large 
 speech, which for about three days had 
 such a run of sale that the unruly hawkers 
 were ready to pull his press in pieces for the 
 goods. 
 
 Farther I might say of Gent, that in 
 January, 1739, when the Ouse at York was 
 frozen, he set up a press on the ice, and 
 printed names there, to the great satisfac- 
 tion of young gentlemen, ladies, and others, 
 who were very liberal on the occasion. 
 And how having been unjustly as he thought 
 ejected from a house in Stonegate, which 
 was held under a prebendal lease and which 
 fell to Mr. Laurence Sterne, (to whom, 
 however, it was in vain to apply for redress, 
 it not being in his power to relieve him,) he 
 bought a house in Petergate and built a 
 tower upon it; "by which addition," said 
 he, " my house seems the highest in the city 
 and affords an agreeable prospect round the 
 country : we have a wholesome air when- 
 ever we please to ascend, especially the 
 mornings and evenings, with great conve- 
 niency for my business when overcrowded 
 in the narrow rooms below ; and several
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 279 
 
 gentlemen have occasionally taken a serious 
 pipe there, to talk of affairs in printing, as 
 well as neighbours to satisfy their curiosity 
 in viewing the flowers that grow almost 
 round about upon the walls." 
 
 This, and much more than this, might be 
 said of Thomas Gent, and would have been 
 deemed not uninteresting by the collectors 
 of English topography, and typographic 
 curiosities, Gent being well known to them 
 for his " famous history of the City of York, 
 its magnificent Cathedral, St. Mary's Abbey, 
 &c. ;" his "History of the Loyal Town of 
 Ripon, Fountains Abbey, Beverley, Wake- 
 field, &c. ; " and his " History of the Royal 
 and Beautiful Town of Kingston-upon- 
 Hull." lie entered upon a different pro- 
 vince when he wrote his Treatise, entitled 
 "Divine Justice and Mercy displayed in 
 the Life of Judas Iseariot." But though it 
 was because of his turn for books and anti- 
 quities that the Doctor employed him to 
 hunt the stalls at York, as Browne Willis 
 did to collect for him epitaphs and trades- 
 men's halfpence, what I had to say of him 
 arises out of his connexion with Richard 
 Guy, and must therefore be confined to his 
 dilatory courtship and late marriage. 
 
 CHAPTER CXV. 
 
 THE READER IS REMINDED OF PRINCE 
 ABINO JASSIMA AND THE FOX-LADY. GENT 
 NOT MKE JOB, NOB MRS. GENT LIKE JOfi's 
 WIFE. 
 
 A me parrcbbe a la storiafar torto, 
 
 S' to non aggiungo qualche codicillo ; 
 Accib che ognun chi lepge, benedica 
 L' ultimo ejfetto de la miafatica, 
 
 Pntci. 
 
 I CANNOT think so meanly of my gentle 
 readers as to suppose that any of them can 
 have forgotten the story of the Japanese 
 Prince Abino Jassima, and the gradual but 
 lamentable metamorphosis of his beautifid 
 wife. But perhaps it may not have occurred 
 to them that many a poor man, and with- 
 out anything miraculous in the case, finds 
 
 himself in the same predicament, except 
 that when he discovers his wife to be a vixen 
 he is not so easily rid of her. 
 
 Let me not be suspected of insinuating 
 that Alice Gent, formerly Bourne, formerly 
 Guy, proved to be a wife of this descrip- 
 tion, for which, I know not wherefore, an 
 appellation has been borrowed from the she- 
 fox. Her husband, who found that ten years 
 had wrought a great change in her appear- 
 ance, complained indeed of other changes. 
 " I found," he says, " her temper much 
 altered from that sweet natural softness and 
 most tender affection that rendered her so 
 amiable to me while I was more juvenile and 
 she a maiden. Not less sincere I must own ; 
 but with that presumptive air and conceited 
 opinion (like Mrs. Day in the play of the 
 Committee) which made me imagine an 
 epidemical distemper prevailed among the 
 good women to ruin themselves and fami- 
 lies, or, if not prevented by Divine Pro- 
 vidence, to prove the sad cause of great 
 contention and of disquietude. However as 
 I knew I was but then a novice in the in- 
 tricate laws of matrimony, and that nothing 
 but a thorough annihilation can disentangle 
 or break that chain which often produces a 
 strange concatenation for future disorders, I 
 endeavoured to comply with a sort of stoical 
 resolution to some very harsh rules that 
 otherwise would have grated my human 
 understanding. For as by this change I had 
 given a voluntary wound to my wonted 
 liberty, now attacked in the maintenance 
 partly of pretended friends, spunging para- 
 sites, and flatterers who imposed on good 
 nature to our great damage ; so in this con- 
 jugal captivity, as I may term it, I was fully 
 resolved, likewise in a Christian sense, to 
 make my yoke as easy as possible, thereby 
 to give no offence to custom or law of any 
 kind. The tender affection that a good hus- 
 band naturally has to the wife of his bosom 
 is such, as to make him often pass by the 
 greatest insults that can be offered to human 
 nature ; such I mean as the senseless pro- 
 voking arguments used by one who will not 
 be awakened from delusion till poverty ap- 
 pears, shows the ingratitude of false friends
 
 280 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 in prosperity, and brings her to sad repent- 
 ance in adversity : she will then wish she 
 had been foreseeing as her husband, when 
 it is too late ; condemn her foolish credulity, 
 and abhor those who have caused her to 
 differ from her truest friend, whose days she 
 has embittered with the most undutiful ag- 
 gravations, to render everything uncomfort- 
 able to him ! " 
 
 I suspect that Thomas Gent was wrong 
 in thinking thus of his wife ; I am sure he 
 was wrong in thus writing of her, and that 
 I should be doing wrong in repeating what 
 he has written, if it were not with the in- 
 tention of showing that though he repre- 
 sents himself in this passage as another Job, 
 Socrates, or Jerry Sneak, it must not be 
 concluded that his wife resembled the ter- 
 magant daughter of Sir Jacob Jollup, Xan- 
 tippe, Rahamat the daughter of Ephraim, 
 her cousin Makher the daughter of Manas- 
 seh, or Queen Saba, whichever of these 
 three latter were the wife of Job. 
 
 And here let me observe that although I 
 follow the common usage in writing the last 
 venerable name, I prefer the orthography 
 of Junius and Tremellius, who write Hiob, 
 because it better represents the sound of 
 the original Hebrew, and is moreover more 
 euphonous than Job, or Jobab, if those com- 
 mentators err not who identify that King 
 of Edom with the Man of Uz. Indeed it 
 is always meet and right to follow the es- 
 tablished usage, unless there be some valid 
 reason for departing from it ; and moreover 
 there is this to be said in favour of retaining 
 the usual form and pronunciation of this 
 well-known name, that if it were disnatu- 
 ralised and put out of use, an etymology 
 in our language would be lost sight of. For 
 a job in the working or operative sense of 
 the word, is evidently something which it 
 requires patience to perform ; in the phy- 
 sical and moral sense, as when, for example, 
 in the language of the vulgar, a personal 
 hurt or misfortune is called a bad job, it is 
 something which it requires patience to sup- 
 port ; and in the political sense it is some- 
 thing which it requires patience in the public 
 to endure : and in all these senses the origin 
 
 of the word must be traced to Job, who is 
 the proverbial exemplar of this virtue. This 
 derivation has escaped Johnson ; nor has 
 that lexicographer noticed the substantives 
 jobing and jobation, and the verb to jobe, all 
 from the same root, and familiar in the 
 mouths of the people. 
 
 For these reasons therefore, and especially 
 the etymological one, I prefer the common, 
 though peradventure, and indeed perlike- 
 lihood, erroneous manner of writing the 
 name, to lob, Hiob, Ajob, Ajoub, or Jjob, 
 all which have been proposed. And I do 
 not think it worth while (that is my while 
 or the reader's) to inquire into the deriva- 
 tion of the name, and whether it may with 
 most probability be expounded to mean sor- 
 rowful, jubilant, persecuted, beloved, zeal- 
 ous, or wise, in the sense of sage, seer, or 
 magician. Nor whether Job was also called 
 Jasub, Jaschub, Jocab, Jocam, Jobal, Jubab, 
 Hobab, or Uz of that ilk, for this also has 
 been contended. Nor to investigate the 
 position of a territory the name of which has 
 been rendered so famous by its connexion 
 with him, and of which nothing but the 
 name is known. This indeed has occasioned 
 much discussion among biblical chorogra- 
 phers. And not many years have elapsed 
 since, at a late hour of the night, or perhaps 
 an early one of the morning, the watchman 
 in Great Russell Street found it necessary in 
 the discharge of his duty to interpose be- 
 tween two learned and elderly gentlemen, 
 who returning together from a literary com- 
 potation, had entered upon this discussion 
 on the way, and forgetting the example of 
 the Man of Uz, quarrelled about the situa- 
 tion of his country. The scene of this 
 dispute, the only one upon that subject 
 that ever required the interference of the 
 watch in the streets of London at mid- 
 night, was near the Museum Gate, and 
 the Author of the Indian Antiquities was 
 one of the disputants. 
 
 Returning, however, to the matter which 
 these last parenthetical paragraphs inter- 
 rupted, I say that before lukewarm Thomas 
 represented himself as another Job for ma- 
 trimonial endurance, he ought to have asked
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 281 
 
 himself whether the motives for which he | 
 married the widow Bourne, were the same j 
 as those for which he wooed the fair maiden 
 Alice Guy ; and whether, if Mrs. Gent sus- 
 pected that as she had been obliged to her 
 first husband for her money, she was obliged 
 to the money for her second, it was not very 
 natural for her to resent any remonstrances 
 on his part, when she entertained or assisted 
 those whom she believed to be her friends, 
 and who peradventure had claims upon her 
 hospitality or her bounty for her late hus- 
 band's sake. 
 
 A woman's goodness, when she is a wife, 
 Lies much upon a man's desert ; believe it, Sir. 
 If there be fault in her, I'll pawn ray life on't 
 'Twas first in him, if she were ever good.* 
 
 If there be any reader so inconsiderate as 
 to exclaim, " what have we to do with the 
 temper and character of a low-lived woman 
 who was dead and buried long before we 
 were born, whom nobody ever heard of 
 before, and for whom nobody cares a straw 
 now ! What can have induced this most 
 unaccountable of authors to waste his time 
 and thoughts upon such people and such 
 matter ! " Should there, I say, be persons, 
 as in all likelihood there may, so impatient 
 and so unreasonable as to complain in this 
 manner, I might content myself with observ- 
 ing to them in the words of that thoughtful 
 and happy-minded man Mr. Danby of Swin- 
 ton, that if Common Sense had not a vehicle 
 to carry it abroad, it must always stay at 
 home. 
 
 But I am of the school of Job, and will 
 reply with Uzzite patience to these objectors, 
 as soon as I shall have related in a few words 
 the little more that remains to be said of 
 Thomas Gent, printer of York, and Alice his 
 wife. They had only one child, it died an 
 infant of six months, and the father speaks 
 with great feeling of its illness and death. 
 " I buried its pretty corpse," he says, " in 
 the Church of St. Michael le Belfrey, where 
 it was laid on the breast of Mr. Charles 
 Bourne, my predecessor, in the chancel on 
 the south side of the altar." This was in 
 
 BEAUMONT and FLETCHER. 
 
 1726; there he was buried himself more 
 than half a century afterwards, in the 87th 
 year of his age ; and Alice, who opened the 
 door to him when he first arrived in York, 
 was no doubt deposited in the same vault 
 with both her husbands. 
 
 CHAPTER CXVI. 
 
 DR. SOUTHET. JOHN BUNYAN. BARTHOLO- 
 M^US SCHER.EUS. TERTULLIAN. DOMENICO 
 BERNINO. PETRARCH. JEREHT TAYLOR. 
 HARTLEY COLERIDGE. DIEGO DE SAN 
 PEDRO, AND ADAM LITTLETON. 
 
 Black spirits and white, red spirits and gray ; 
 Mingle, mingle, mingle, you that mingle may. 
 
 Titty, Tiffin, keep it stiff in ! 
 
 Firedrake, Puckey, make it lucky ! 
 
 Liard, Robin, you must bob in ! 
 Round, around, around, about, about ! 
 All good come running in, all ill keep out. 
 
 MIDDLE-TON. 
 
 NINE years after the convention of Cintra a 
 representation was made to the Laureate in 
 favour of some artillery horses employed in 
 Sir Arthur Wellesley's army. They were 
 cast-off Irish cavalry, and their efficiency 
 had been called in question ; indeed it had 
 been affirmed that they were good for no- 
 thing; attestations to disprove this were 
 produced, and the Laureate was requested 
 to set this matter right in his History of the 
 Peninsular War.f The good-natured his- 
 torian has given accordingly a note to the 
 subject, saying that he thought himself bound 
 to notice the representation were it only for 
 the singularity of the case. If Dr. Southey 
 thought it became him for that reason and 
 for truth's sake, to speak a good word of 
 some poor horses who had long ago been 
 worked to death and left to the dogs and 
 wolves by the way-side, much more may I 
 feel myself bound for the sake of Dr. Dove 
 to vindicate the daughter of his old school- 
 master from a splenetic accusation brought 
 against her by her husband. The reader 
 who knows what the Doctor's feelings were 
 
 t See vol. i. p. 5.V1. 4to ed.
 
 282 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 .with regard to Mr. Guy, and what mine are 
 for the Doctor, would I am sure excuse me 
 even if on such an occasion I had travelled 
 out of the record. 
 
 Gent, when he penned that peevish page, 
 seems to have thought with Tom Otter, that 
 a wife is a very scurvy clogdogdo! And 
 with John Bunyan that " Women, whenever 
 they would perk it and lord it over their 
 husbands, ought to remember that both by 
 creation and transgression they are made to 
 be in subjection to them." " Such a thing," 
 says the Arch-tinker, " may happen, as that 
 the woman, not the man, may be in the 
 right, (I mean when both are godly), but 
 ordinarily it is otherwise." 
 
 Authors of a higher class than the York 
 printer and topographist have complained of 
 their wives. We read in Burton that Bar- 
 tholomaeus Scheraeus, Professor of Hebrew 
 at Wittenberg, whom he calls " that famous 
 Poet Laureate," said in the introduction to 
 a work of his upon the Psalms, he should 
 have finished it long before, but amongst 
 many miseries which almost broke his back 
 (his words were inter alia dura et tristia, ques 
 misero mihi pene tergum fregerunt^) he was 
 yoked to a worse than Xantippe. A like 
 lamentation is made more oddly, and with 
 less excuse, by Domenico Bernino, the author 
 of a large history of All Heresies, which he 
 dedicated to Clement XI. Tertullian, he 
 says, being iH advised in his youth, and de- 
 ceived by that shadow of repose which the 
 Conjugal state offers to the travellers in this 
 miserable world, threw himself into the 
 troubled sea of matrimony. And no sooner 
 had he taken a wife, than being made wise 
 by his own misfortunes, he composed his 
 laborious treatise de molestiis nuptiarum, con- 
 cerning the troubles of marriage, finding in 
 this employment the only relief from those 
 continual miseries, to which, he adds, we who 
 now write may bear our present and too 
 faithful testimony, delle quali Noi ancora 
 che quests cose scriviamo, siamo per lui tes- 
 timonio pur troppo vero e presente. 
 
 The Historian of Heresy and the Hebrew 
 Professor might have learned a lesson from 
 Petrarch's Dialogue de importund Uxorc, in 
 
 that work of his de Remedii/s Utriusque For- 
 turuE. When DOI.OE complains of having a 
 bad wife, RATIO reminds him that he might 
 blame his ill- fortune for any other calamity, 
 but this he had brought upon himself and 
 the only remedy was patience. 
 
 Est mala crux, conjux mala ; crux tamen illaferenda est 
 Qua nemo nisi Mars te relevare potest. 
 
 " It is the unhappy chance of many," says 
 Jeremy Taylor, " that finding many incon- 
 veniences upon the mountains of single life, 
 they descend into the valleys of marriage to 
 refresh their troubles, and there they enter 
 into fetters, and are bound to sorrow by 
 the cords of a man's or woman's peevish- 
 ness ; and the worst of the evil is, they are 
 to thank their own follies, for they fell into 
 the snare by entering an improper way." 
 To complain of the consequences, which are 
 indeed the proper punishment, is to commit 
 a second folly by proclaiming the first, and 
 the second deserves the ridicule it is sure to 
 meet with. Hartley Coleridge has well said, 
 that there must always be something de- 
 fective in the moral feelings or very unfor- 
 tunate in the circumstances of a man who 
 makes the public his confidant! 
 
 If Thomas Gent had read Lord Berners' 
 Castle of Love, which might easily, rare as 
 it has now become, have fallen in his way 
 a hundred years ago, he would there have 
 seen fifteen reasons why men do wrong 
 when they speak ill of women, and twenty 
 reasons why they ought to speak well of 
 them. All lovers of our old literature know 
 how greatly we are beholden to John Bou- 
 chier, Knight, Lord Berners, who, when 
 Deputy General of the King's Town of 
 Calais and Marches of the same, employed 
 his leisure in translating books out of French 
 into English. But he must have been one 
 of those persons, who, with a great appetite 
 for books, have no discriminating taste, or 
 he would not have translated Arthur of 
 Little Britain, when Gyron le Courtoys and 
 Meliadus were not extant in his own lan- 
 guage ; nor would he, even at the instance 
 of Lady Elizabeth Carew, if he had known 
 a good book from a bad one, have englished
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 283 
 
 from its French version the Carcel de Amor, 
 which Diego de San Pedro composed at the 
 request of the Alcayde de los Donzelles, 
 D. Diego Hernandez, and of other Knights 
 and Courtiers. 
 
 The reader will please to observe that 
 though all worthless books are bad, all bad 
 books are not necessarily worthless. A work, 
 however bad, if written, as the Carcel de 
 Amor was, early in the sixteenth century, 
 and translated into Italian, French, and 
 English, must be worth reading to any per- 
 son who thinks the history of literature (and 
 what that history includes) a worthy object 
 of pursuit. If I had not been one of those 
 who like Ludovicus Bosch (my friend in 
 the caxon) are never weary of hunting 
 in those woods, I could not, gentle reader, 
 have set before you, as I shall incontinently 
 proceed to do, the fifteen above-mentioned 
 and here following reasons, why you will 
 commit a sin if you ever speak in disparage- 
 ment of womankind. 
 
 First then, Leriano, the unhappy hero of 
 Diego de San Pedro's tragic story, says that 
 all things which God has made are neces- 
 sarily good ; women therefore being his 
 creatures, to calumniate them is to blas- 
 pheme one of his works. 
 
 Secondly, there is no sin more hateful 
 than ingratitude ; and it is being ungrateful 
 to the Virgin Mary if we do not honour all 
 women for her sake. 
 
 Thirdly, it is an act of cowardice for man 
 who is strong, to offend woman who is weak. 
 
 Fourthly, the man who speaks ill of 
 woman brings dishonour upon himself, in- 
 asmuch as every man is of woman born. 
 
 Fifthly, such evil speaking is, for the last- 
 mentioned reason, a breach of the fifth 
 commandment. 
 
 Sixthly, it is an obligation upon every 
 noble man to employ himself virtuously both 
 in word and deed ; and he who speaks evil 
 incurs the danger of infamy. 
 
 Seventhly, because all knights are bound 
 by their order to show respect and honour 
 to all womankind. 
 
 Eighthly, such manner of speech brings 
 the honour of others in question. 
 
 Ninthly, and principally, it endangers the 
 soul of the evil speaker. 
 
 Tenthly, it occasions enmities and the 
 fatal consequences resulting therefrom. 
 
 Eleventhly, husbands by such speeches 
 may be led to suspect their wives, to use 
 them ill, to desert them, and peradventure 
 to make away with them. 
 
 Twelfthly, a man thereby obtains the 
 character of being a slanderer. 
 
 Thirteenthly, he brings himself in jeopardy 
 with those who may think themselves bound 
 to vindicate a lady's reputation or revenge 
 the wrong which has ben done to it. 
 
 Fourteenthly, to speak ill of women is a 
 sin because of the beauty which distinguishes 
 their sex, which beauty is so admirable that 
 there is more to praise in one woman than 
 there can be to condemn in all. 
 
 Fifteenthly, it is a sin because all the 
 benefactors of mankind have been born of 
 women, and therefore we are obliged to 
 women for all the good that has ever been 
 done in the world. 
 
 Such are the fifteen reasons which Diego 
 de San Pedro excogitated to show that it is 
 wrong for men to speak ill of women ; and 
 the twenty reasons which he has superin- 
 duced to prove that they are bound to speak 
 well of them are equally cogent and not less 
 curious. I have a reason of my own for 
 reserving these till another opportunity. 
 Not, however, to disappoint my fair readers 
 altogether of that due praise which they 
 have so properly expected, I will conclude 
 the present chapter with a few flowers taken 
 from the pulpit of my old acquaintance 
 Adam Littleton. There is no impropriety 
 in calling him so, though he died before my 
 grandfathers and grandmothers .were born ; 
 and when I meet him in the next world I 
 hope to improve this one-sided acquaint- 
 ance by introducing myself and thanking 
 him for his Dictionary and his Sermons. 
 
 The passage occurs in a sermon preached 
 at the obsequies of the Eight Honourable 
 the Lady Jane Cheyne. The text was 
 " Favour is deceitful, and Beauty is vain ; 
 but a woman that feareth the Lord, she 
 shall be praised : " in which proposition, says
 
 284 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 the Preacher, we have, First the subject 
 Woman, with her qualification that fears the 
 Lord: Secondly the predicate, she shall be 
 praised, 
 
 " WOMAN, in the primitive design of Na- 
 ture, God's master-piece, being the last 
 work of creation, and made with a great 
 deal of deliberation and solemnity. 
 
 " For to look upon her as a supernume- 
 rary creature, and one brought into the 
 world by the bye, besides the Creator's first 
 intention, upon second thoughts, is to lay 
 a foul imputation upon Divine Wisdom, as 
 if it had been at a stand, and were to seek. 
 
 " Wherefore, as we used to argue that all 
 things were made for the use and service of 
 man, because he was made last of all ; I do 
 not see, if that argument be good, why the 
 same consequences should not be of like 
 force here too, that Man himself was made 
 for the affectionate care of Woman, who 
 was framed not only after him, but out of 
 him too, the more to engage his tenderest 
 and dearest respects. 
 
 " Certainly this manner of production 
 doth plainly evince the equality of the 
 Woman's merits and rights with Man ; she 
 being a noble cyon transplanted from his 
 stock, and by the mystery of marriage im- 
 planted into him again, and made one with 
 him. 
 
 " She is then equally at least partaker with 
 him of all the advantages which appertain to 
 human nature, and alike capable of those 
 improvements which by the efforts of reason, 
 and the methods of education and the in- 
 stincts of the Blessed Spirit, are to be made 
 upon it. 
 
 " Hence it was that all Arts and Sciences, 
 all Virtues and Graces, both divine and 
 moral, are represented in the shape and 
 habit of Women. Nor is there any reason 
 for fancying Angels themselves more of our 
 sex than of the other, since amongst them 
 there is no such distinction, but they may as 
 well be imagined female as male. 
 
 "Above all for Piety and Devotion, which 
 is the top-perfection of our nature, and 
 makes it most like angelical ; as the capacity 
 of Women is as large, so their inclinations 
 
 are generally more vigorous, the natural 
 bias and tendency of their spirits lying that 
 way, and their softer temper more kindly 
 receiving the supernatural impression of 
 God's Spirit. 
 
 " This is that, if any thing, which gives 
 their sex the pre-eminence above us men 
 and gains them just advantages of praise; 
 that whereas those who have only a hand- 
 some shape and good features to commend 
 them, are adored and idolised by persons of 
 slight apprehensions and ungoverned pas- 
 sions, pious and virtuous women command 
 the veneration of the most judicious, and 
 are deservedly admired by holy men and 
 Angels." 
 
 Thus saith that Adam of whom even 
 Adam Clarke might have been proud as a 
 namesake ; and whose portrait the Gen- 
 tlemen of the name of Adam who meet and 
 dine together at a tavern in London, once a 
 year, ought to have in their club-room. 
 
 CHAPTER CXVII. 
 
 CONCERNING JOB'S WIFE. 
 
 This insertion is somewhat long, and utterly impertinent 
 to the principal matter, and makes a great gap in the tale ; 
 nevertheless is no disgrace, but rather a beauty and to 
 very good purpose. 
 
 TOTTENHAM. 
 
 IT has been a custom in popish countries, 
 when there were no censors of the press 
 civil or ecclesiastical to render it unne- 
 cessary, for an author to insert at the be- 
 ginning of his work a protestation declaring, 
 that if the book contained anything con- 
 trary to the established faith, he thereby re- 
 voked any such involuntary error of opinion. 
 Something similar has sometimes been done 
 in free countries, and not then as a mere 
 form, nor for prudential considerations, but 
 in the sincerity of an upright intention, and 
 a humble mind. "Who can tell how oft he 
 offendeth? O cleanse thou me from my 
 secret faults ! " 
 
 To be sure what I am about to say is upon
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 285 
 
 a matter of less import, and may seem neither 
 to require nor deserve so grave a prelude. 
 But it is no part of my philosophy to turn 
 away from serious thoughts when they lie 
 before me. 
 
 I had no intention of quoting scripture when 
 I began, but the words came to mind and I 
 gave them utterance, and thou wilt not be 
 displeased, good reader, at seeing them thus 
 introduced. Good reader, I have said: 
 if thou art not good, I would gladly persuade 
 thee to become so; and if thou art good, 
 would fain assist thee in making thyself bet- 
 tor. Si de tout ce que je vous ai dit, un mot 
 pent vous ctre utile, je riaurai nul regret a ma 
 peine.'f 
 
 Well then benevolent and patient reader, 
 it is here my duty to confess that there is a 
 passage in the last chapter which I am bound 
 to retract. For since that chapter was 
 written I have found cause to apprehend 
 that in vindicating Guy's daughter I have 
 wronged Job's wife, by accrediting a re- 
 ceived calumny founded upon a mistransla- 
 tion. I did not then know, what I have now 
 learned, that a judicious and learned writer, 
 modest enough to conceal his name and 
 designate himself only as a private gentle- 
 man, had many years ago, in a Review of 
 the History of Job, stated his reasons for 
 regarding her as a much injured woman. 
 
 Every one knows that the wife of Job in 
 our Bible says to her husband, " Dost thou 
 still retain thine integrity ? Curse God and 
 die ! " Now this writer asserts that the 
 Hebrew verb which our translators render 
 in this place to curse, means also to bless, to 
 salute, or give the knee, and that there are 
 but four more places in all the Bible where 
 it can be supposed to have an opposite 
 meaning, and that even in those places it 
 may admit of the better signification. It is 
 not surprising that many verbal difficulties 
 should occur in a book, which, if of later 
 date than the books of Moses, is next to 
 
 EORIPIDES. 
 
 t MAD. DE MAINTBNON. 
 
 them in antiquity. Such difficulties might 
 be expected whether we have it in its original 
 language, or whether it were written, as 
 many have opined, by Job himself in Syriac, 
 Arabic, or Idumean, and translated into 
 Hebrew ; much more if the opinion of Dr. 
 Wall could be admitted, that it was written 
 at first in hieroglyphics, against which the 
 length of the book is a conclusive objection. 
 " I should imagine," saye the anonymous 
 defender, " she had so high an opinion of 
 her husband's innocence that she might 
 mean to advise him, seeing notwithstanding 
 his uprightness he was thus amazingly 
 afflicted, to go and kneel or bow down be- 
 fore God, and plead or as it were expos- 
 tulate with him concerning the reason of 
 these dreadful calamities, even though he 
 should die. If this sense of her expressions 
 be allowed, it will justify Job's wise rebuke 
 for her inconsiderateness, while, as he still 
 possessed his soul in submissive patience, 
 crying out ' Thou speakest as a rash, 
 thoughtless, or foolish woman : what, shall we 
 receive good at the hands of God, and shall 
 we not receive evil ? ' Indeed it should 
 seem that God himself did not behold her as 
 an impious or blasphemous woman, inasmuch 
 as we find she was made a great instrument 
 in Job's future and remarkable prosperity, 
 becoming after their great calamity the 
 mother of seven sons and three most beau- 
 tiful daughters. I say she was their mother, 
 because we have no intimation that Job had 
 any other wife." 
 
 Now upon consulting such authorities as 
 happen to be within my reach, I find that this 
 interpretation is supported by the Vulgate, 
 benedic Deo, et morere ; and also by the 
 version of Junius and Tremellius adhuc 
 tu refines integritatem tuam, benedicendo Deum 
 atque moriendo. Piscator too renders the 
 word in its better sense, as I learn from the 
 elder Wesley's elaborate collation of this 
 most ancient book, from which I collect also 
 that the Chaldee version gives the good 
 meaning, the Arabian and Syriac the bad 
 one ; and that the words of the Septuagint 
 oAAcb fjinh' TJ ^TJ/UO eij Kvpiov KaL reXevra, are in- 
 terpreted by the Scholiast Ka-rapaaov rbv fleoV.
 
 286 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Moreover, a passage of some length which 
 is in no other translation except that of St. 
 Ambrose, is found in three manuscripts of 
 the Septuagint, one* of them being that 
 from which the text of the Oxford edition 
 of 1817 is taken. It is as follows: "But 
 after much time had elapsed, his wife said 
 unto him, how long wilt thou endure thus, 
 saying, ' I will expect yet a little while, 
 awaiting the hope of my salvation ? ' Behold 
 thy memory hath passed away from the earth, 
 the sons and daughters of my womb, whom 
 I have with pain and sorrow brought forth 
 in vain. Thou thyself sittest among filthy 
 worms, passing the night under the open 
 sky ; and I am a wanderer and a servant, 
 from place to place and from house to house, 
 looking for the sun to go down that I may 
 rest from the grief and labour that oppress 
 me. Speak then a word against the Lord, 
 and die ! " 
 
 If the text were to be considered singly, 
 without reference to anything which may 
 assist in determining its meaning, it would 
 perhaps be impossible now to ascertain 
 among these contrariant interpretations 
 which is the true one. But the generous 
 Englishman who in this country first in our 
 language undertook the vindication of this 
 Matriarch and by whom I have been led to 
 make the present pertinent inquiry, has 
 judiciously (as has been seen) observed in 
 confirmation of his opinion, that the cir- 
 cumstance of her having been made a par- 
 taker in her husband's subsequent prosperity 
 is proof that she also had been found righ- 
 teous under all their trials. This is a valid 
 argument deduced from the book itself. 
 
 It would be invalidated were there any 
 truth in what certain Talmudists say, that 
 Job came into the world only to receive his 
 good things in it ; that when Satan was per- 
 mitted to afflict him he began to blaspheme 
 and to revile his Maker, and that therefore 
 the Lord doubled his measure of prosperity 
 in this life, that he might be rejected from 
 the world to come. But when we remember 
 that he is called " a perfect and an upright 
 
 I.e. the Vatican MS. 
 
 man, one that feareth God and escheweth 
 evil," we may say with the great Cistercian 
 Rabbinomastix, Hcec est magna Masphemia 
 et convicium in lob. Other Rabbis repre- 
 sent him as a fatalist, put into his mouth 
 the common argument of that false and 
 impious philosophy, and affirm that there is 
 no hope of his salvation : what they say con- 
 cerning him may safely be rejected. Others 
 of the same school assert that there never 
 was any such person as Job, in the teeth of 
 the Prophet Ezekiel, and that his whole 
 history is only a parable : if their opinion 
 were right it would be useless to inquire 
 into the character of his wife ; sed isti redar- 
 guuntur, says Bartolocci, ex nomine ipsius 
 et nomine cioitatis ejusdem. Just as, what- 
 ever inconsiderate readers may suppose who 
 take these my reminiscences of the Doctor 
 for a work of fiction, Daniel Dove was 
 Daniel Dove nevertheless, and Doncaster is 
 Doncaster. 
 
 There is nothing then among the Jewish 
 traditions, so far as my guides lead me, that 
 can throw any light upon the subject of this 
 inquiry. But there is among the Arabian, 
 where it was more likely to be found ; and 
 though the Arabic translation supports the 
 evil meaning of the equivocal text, the 
 tradition on the contrary is in favour of 
 Job's wife. It is indeed a legend, a mere 
 figment, plainly fabulous ; but it is founded 
 upon the traditional character of Job's wife 
 in Job's own country. There are two ver- 
 sions of the legend. The one Sale has given 
 as a comment upon the text of the Koran, 
 " Remember Job when he cried unto his 
 Lord, saying, Verily evil hath afflicted me ; 
 but Thou art the most merciful of those 
 who show mercy ! " 
 
 When Job, says this legend, was in so 
 loathsome a condition that as he lay on a 
 dunghill none could bear to come near him, 
 his wife alone attended him dutifully with 
 great patience, and supported him with what 
 she earned by her labour. One day the 
 Devil appeared to her, reminded her of their 
 former prosperity, and promised to restore 
 all they had lost if she would worship him. 
 He had overcome Eve by a less temptation ;
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 287 
 
 the Matriarch did not yield like the Mother 
 of Mankind, but neither did she withstand 
 it ; she took a middle course, and going to 
 her husband repeated to him the proposal, 
 and asked his consent : whereat he was so 
 indignant that he swore if he recovered to 
 give her an hundred stripes ; and then it 
 was that he uttered the ejaculation recorded 
 in the Koran. Immediately the Lord sent 
 Gabriel, who took him by the hand and 
 raised him up ; a fountain sprung up at his 
 feet, he drank of it, and the worms fell from 
 his wounds, and he washed in it, and his 
 health and beauty were restored. What his 
 wife had done was not imputed to her for 
 sin, doubtless in consideration of the motive, 
 and the sense of duty and obedience to her 
 lord and master which she had manifested. 
 She also became young and beautiful again; 
 and that Job might keep his oath and 
 neither hurt her nor his own conscience, he 
 was directed to give her one blow with a 
 palm branch having an hundred leaves. 
 
 The legend, as related in D'Herbelot, is 
 more favourable to her and exempts her 
 from all blame. According to Khondemir, 
 whom he follows, what Job's wife, here called 
 Rasima, provided for her miserable husband, 
 Satan stole from her, till he deprived her at 
 last of all means of supporting him, and thus 
 rendered him utterly destitute. As soon as 
 the tempter had effected this, he appeared to 
 Rasima in the form of a bald old woman, 
 and offered if she would give him the two 
 locks which hung down upon her neck, to 
 supply her every day with whatever she 
 wanted for her husband. Rasima joyfully 
 accepted the proposal, cut off her locks and 
 gave them to the false old woman. No 
 sooner was Satan possessed of them than he 
 went to Job, told him that his wife had been 
 detected in dishonouring herself and him, 
 and that she had been ignominiously shorn 
 in consequence, in proof of which lie pro- 
 duced the locks. Job when he saw that his 
 wife had indeed been shorn of her tresses, 
 believed the story, and not doubting that 
 she had allowed the Devil to prevail over 
 ber, swore if ever he recovered his health to 
 punish her severely. Upon this Satan ex- 
 
 ulting that he had provoked Job to anger, 
 assumed the form of an Angel of Light, and 
 appearing to the people of the land, said he 
 was sent by the Lord to tell them that Job 
 had drawn upon himself the displeasure of 
 the Most High, wherefore he had lost the 
 rank of Prophet which theretofore he had 
 held, and they must not suffer him to remain 
 among them, otherwise the wrath of the 
 Lord would be extended to them also. Job 
 then breathed the prayer which is in the 
 Koran, and the legend proceeds as in the 
 other version, except that nothing is said 
 concerning the manner in which he was dis- 
 charged of his vow, the vow itself being 
 annulled when Rasima's innocence was made 
 known. 
 
 The Koran, where it touches upon this 
 legend, says, it was said to Job, " take a 
 handful of rods in thy hand, and strike thy 
 wife therewith, and break not thine oath." 
 Sale observes upon this that as the text 
 does not express what this handful of rods 
 was to be, some commentators have sup- 
 posed it to be dry grass, and others rushes, 
 and others (as in the legend) a palm branch. 
 But the elder Wesley takes the words in 
 their direct and rigorous meaning, and 
 says that as the Devil had no small part in 
 the Koran, this passage indubitably bears 
 his stamp, for who but the Devil would 
 instigate any one to beat his wife ? This 
 erudite commentator (he deserves to be so 
 called) vindicates the Matriarch in one of 
 his Dissertations, and says that in the speech 
 for which Job reproved her she only advised 
 him to pray for death : in the mouth of a 
 Greek or Roman matron it might have been 
 understood as an exhortation to suicide ; 
 Hcec ore Greece ant Romans mulieris pro- 
 luta ut heroica qucedam exhortatio esiet sus- 
 pecta. 
 
 His favourable opinion is entitled to more 
 weight, because it was formed when he made 
 the book of Job his particular study, whereas 
 in an earlier work, the History of the Bible 
 in verse, he had followed the common error, 
 and made Satan as the last and worst of 
 Job's torments play his wife against him, 
 saying that the fiercest shock which the
 
 288 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Patriarch sustained was from the tempest 
 raised by her tongue. 
 
 The expositors who comment upon this 
 text of the Koran without reference to the 
 legend, have differed in opinion as to the 
 offence which Job's wife had committed 
 thus to provoke her husband, some asserting 
 that he swore to punish her with stripes 
 because she had stayed too long on an 
 errand, an opinion by no means con- 
 sistent with his patience. 
 
 Returning to the main argument I con- 
 clude, that if upon the meaning of the 
 doubtful word in the Hebrew text authori- 
 ties are so equipoised as to leave it doubtful, 
 these traditions being of Arabian growth 
 have sufficient weight to turn the scale ; 
 even if it were not a maxim that in cases of 
 this kind the most charitable opinion ought 
 to be preferred. And as Dr. Southey has 
 classed this injured Matriarch in a triad 
 with Xantippe and Mrs. Wesley, I cannot 
 but hope that the candid and learned Lau- 
 reate, who, as I before observed, has con- 
 descended to clear the character of some 
 Irish cast-off cavalry horses, will, when he 
 has perused this chapter, render the same 
 justice to Job's wife : and in the next edi- 
 tion of his Life of Wesley, substitute 
 Hooker's in her place. 
 
 CHAPTER CXVIII. 
 
 POINTS OF SIMILITUDE AND DISSIMILITUDE 
 BETWEEN SIB THOMAS BROWN AND DOC- 
 TOR DOVE. 
 
 But in these serious work: designed 
 To mend the morals or mankind, 
 We must for ever be disgraced 
 With all the nicer sons of taste, 
 If once the shadow to pursue 
 We let the substance out of view. 
 Our means must uniformly tend 
 In due proportion to their end, 
 And every passage aptly join 
 To bring about the one design. 
 
 CHURCHILL. 
 
 DR. JOHNSON says that, " perhaps there is 
 no human being, however hid in the crowd 
 from the observation of his fellow mortals, 
 
 who if he has leisure and disposition to 
 recollect his own thoughts and actions, will 
 not conclude his life in some sort a miracle, 
 and imagine himself distinguished from all 
 the rest of his species by many discrimina- 
 tions of nature or of fortune." This remark 
 he makes in relation to what Sir Thomas 
 Brown asserts of the course of his own life, 
 that it was " a miracle of thirty years, which 
 to relate were not a history, but a piece of 
 poetry, and would sound to common ears 
 like a fable." Now it is not known that any 
 thing extraordinary ever befell him. " The 
 wonders," says Johnson, "probably were 
 transacted in his own mind : self-love, co- 
 operating with an imagination vigorous and 
 fertile as that of Brown, will find or make 
 objects of astonishment in everv man's 
 life." 
 
 What the Philosopher of Norwich con- 
 sidered as miraculous was probably thw, 
 that he had escaped from " Pyrrho's maze," 
 and had never been contaminated in Epi- 
 curus' sty ; that he had neither striven for 
 place among the " wrangling crew " nor 
 sought to make his way with the sordid 
 herd ; that he had not sold himself to the 
 service of Mammon ; but in mature years 
 and with deliberate judgment had chosen a 
 calling in which he might continually in- 
 crease his knowledge and enlarge his views, 
 and entertain a reasonable hope that while 
 he endeavoured to relieve the sufferings of 
 his fellow creatures and discipline his own 
 mind, the labours wherein his life was passed 
 would neither be useless to others nor to 
 himself. He might well consider it a miracle 
 of divine mercy that grace had been given 
 him to fulfil the promise made for him at 
 his baptism, and that he had verily and 
 indeed renounced the pomps and vanities of 
 this wicked world. He might indeed take 
 comfort in his " authentic reflections how 
 far he had performed the great intention of 
 his Maker ; whether he had made good 
 the principles of his nature and what he 
 was made to be ; what characteristic and 
 special mark he had left to be observable in 
 his generation ; whether he had lived to 
 purpose or in vain ; and what he had added,
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 2S9 
 
 acted, or performed, that might considerably 
 speak him a man." 
 
 There were more resemblances between 
 Sir Thomas Brown and the Doctor than 
 Fluellen discovered between Henry of 
 Monmouth and Alexander the Great. Both 
 graduated in the same profession at the same 
 university ; and each settled as a prac- 
 titioner in a provincial town. (Doncaster 
 indeed was an inconsiderable place compared 
 with Norwich ; and Brown merely procured 
 his degree at Leyden, which was not in his 
 time, as it was in Daniel Dove's, the best 
 school of physic in Europe.) Both too were 
 Philosophers as well as Physicians, and both 
 were alike speculative in their philosophy 
 and devout Both were learned men. Sir 
 Thomas Brown might have said of himself 
 with Herbert, 
 
 I know the wars of learning ; both the head 
 
 And pipes that feed the press and make it run ; 
 What reason hath from nature borrowed, 
 
 Or of itself, like a good housewife, spun 
 In laws and policy : what the Stars conspire ; 
 What willing Nature speaks, what forced by fire ; 
 
 Both the old discoveries, and the new found seas : 
 The stock and surplus, cause and history: 
 
 All these stand open, or I have the keys. 
 
 The Doctor could not have said this; he 
 would rather have said, 
 
 I am but one who do the world despise 
 
 And would my thoughts to some perfection raise, 
 
 A wisdom-lover, willing to be wise.* 
 
 Yet he was as justly entitled to the appel- 
 lation of a learned man by his multifarious 
 knowledge, as he was far from pretending to 
 it. There were many things of which he 
 was ignorant, and contented to be ignorant, 
 because the acquirement would not have 
 been worth the cost. Brown would have 
 taken with just confidence a seat at the 
 Banquet of the Philosophers, whereas Dove 
 would have thought himself hardly worthy 
 to gather up the crumbs that fell from their 
 table. 
 
 A certain melancholy predominated as 
 much in the constitution of Sir Thomas's 
 mind, as in that of Charles the First, to 
 whom his portrait bears so remarkable a 
 
 LORD STIRLING. 
 
 resemblance; and a certain mirth entered as 
 largely into the composition of the Doctor's, 
 as it did into Charles the Second's, to whom 
 in all moral respects no one could be more 
 utterly unlike. The elements have seldom 
 been so happily mixed as they were in 
 the Philosopher of "Norwich ; he could not 
 have been perfectly homogeneous if a par- 
 ticle of the quintelement had been super- 
 added ; such an ingredient would have 
 marred the harmony of his character : 
 whereas the Philosopher of Doncaster would 
 have been marred without a large portion 
 of it. 
 
 It was a greater dissimilarity, and alto- 
 gether to be regretted, that my Doctor left 
 no " characteristic and special mark to be 
 observable in his generation ; " but upon 
 this I shall make some observations here- 
 after. What led me to compare these 
 persons, incomparable each in his own way, 
 was that my Doctor, though he did not look 
 upon his own history as miraculous, con- 
 sidered that the course of his life had been 
 directed by a singular and special Providence. 
 How else could it have been that being an 
 only son, an only child, the sole represen- 
 tative in his generation of an immemorial 
 line, his father, instead of keeping him 
 attached to the soil, as all his forefathers 
 had been, should have parted with him for 
 the sake of his moral and intellectual im- 
 provement, not with a view to wealth or 
 worldly advancement, but that he might 
 seek wisdom and ensue it? that with no 
 other friend than the poor schoolmaster of a 
 provincial townlet, and no better recom- 
 mendation, he should have been placed with 
 a master by whose care the defects of his 
 earlier education were supplied, and by 
 whose bounty, after he had learned the 
 practical routine of his profession, he was 
 sent to study it as a science in a foreign 
 university, which a little before had been 
 raised by Boerhaave to its highest repu- 
 tation ; that not only had his daily bread 
 been given him without any of that wearing 
 anxiety which usually attends upon an 
 unsettled and precarious way of life, but in 
 the very house which when sent thither in
 
 290 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 boyhood he had entered as a stranger, he 
 found himself permanently fixed, as succes- 
 sively the pupil, the assistant, the friend, 
 and finally the successor and heir of his 
 benefactor ; above all, that he had not been 
 led into temptation, and that he had been 
 delivered from evil. 
 
 " My life," said an unfortunate poor man 
 who was one of the American Bishop 
 Hobart's occasional correspondents, "has 
 been a chapter of blunders and disappoint- 
 ments." John Wilkes said that "the chapter 
 of accidents is the longest chapter in the 
 book;" and he, who had his good things 
 here, never troubled himself to consider 
 whether the great volume were the Book of 
 Chance, or of Necessity, the Demogorgon of 
 those by whom no other deity is acknow- 
 ledged. With a wiser and happier feeling 
 Bishop White Kennett when he was asked 
 " where are we ? " answered the question 
 thus, "in a world where nothing can be 
 depended on but a future state ; in the way 
 to it, little comfort but prayers and books." 
 White Kennett might have enjoyed more 
 comfort if he had been born in less con- 
 tentious times, or if he had taken less part 
 in their contentions, or if he had been placed 
 in a less conspicuous station. Yet he had 
 little cause to complain of his lot, and he 
 has left behind him good works and a good 
 name. 
 
 There is scarcely any man who in thought- 
 fully contemplating the course of his own 
 life would not find frequent reason to 
 say, 
 
 infede mfa 
 Hofatto bene a nonfare a mio modo.* 
 
 The Doctor, however, was one of the very 
 few who have never been put out of their 
 designed course, and never been disposed to 
 stray from it. 
 
 Spesso sipcrde il btiono 
 Cercando il meglio. E a scegliere it tentiero 
 Chi vital troppo ester saggio, 
 Del tempo abusa, e nonfa mat viaggio.^ 
 
 * KlCCIARDETTO. 
 
 t METASTASIO. 
 
 INTERCHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE AUTHOR RECOMMENDS A CERTAIN WELL- 
 KNOWN CHARACTER AS A CANDIDATE FOR 
 HONOURS, BOTH ON THE SCORE OF HIS 
 FAMILY AND HIS DESERTS. HE NOTICES 
 ALSO OTHER PERSONS WHO HAVE SIMILAR 
 CLAIMS. 
 
 Thoricht, atif Scs srung der Thoren zu harren! 
 
 Kinder der klugheit, o habet die Narren 
 
 Eben zum Narren auch, wie tick's gehort. GOETHE. 
 
 IN these days when honours have been so 
 profusely distributed by the most liberal of 
 Administrations and the most popular of 
 Kings, I cannot but think that Tom Fool 
 ought to be knighted. And I assure the 
 reader that this is not said on the score of 
 personal feeling, because I have the honour 
 to be one of his relations, but purely with 
 regard to his own claims, and the fitness of 
 things, as well as to the character of the 
 Government. 
 
 It is disparaging him, and derogatory to 
 his family, which in undisputed and indis- 
 putable antiquity exceeds any other in these 
 kingdoms, it is disparaging him, I say, to 
 speak of him as we do of Tom Duncombe, 
 and Tom Cribb, and Tom Campbell ; or of 
 Tom Hood and Tom Moore, and Tom 
 Sheridan ; and before them of Tom Browne 
 and Tom D'Urfey, and Tom Killigrew. Can 
 it be supposed if he were properly presented 
 to his Majesty (Lord Nugent would in- 
 troduce him), and knelt to kiss the royal 
 hand, that our most gracious and good- 
 natured King would for a moment hesitate 
 to give him the accollade, and say to him 
 "Rise Sir Thomas!" 
 
 I do not ask for the Guelphic Order; 
 simple Knighthood would in this case be 
 more appropriate. 
 
 It is perfectly certain that Sir Thomas 
 More, if he were alive, would not object to 
 have him for a brother knight and namesake. 
 It is equally certain that Sir Thomas Leth- 
 bridge could not, and ought not. 
 
 Dryden was led into a great error by his 
 animosity against Hunt and Shadwell when 
 he surmised that " dullness and clumsiness
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 were fated to the name of Tom." " There 
 are," says Serjeant Kite, " several sorts of 
 Toms ; Tom o' Lincoln, Tom Tit, Tom Tell- 
 truth, Tom o 1 Bedlam and Tom Fool ! " 
 With neither of these is dulness or clumsi- 
 ness associated. And in the Primitive World, 
 according to the erudite philologist who 
 with so much industry and acumen col- 
 lected the fragments of its language, the 
 word itself signified just or perfect. There- 
 fore the first Decan of the constellation 
 Virgo was called Tom, and from thence 
 Court de Gebelin derives Themis : and thus 
 it becomes evident that Themistocles be- 
 longs to the Toms. Let no Thomas then or 
 Sir Thomas, who has made shipwreck of his 
 fortune or his reputation or of both, con- 
 sider himself as having been destined to 
 such disgrace by his godfathers and god- 
 mothers when they gave him that name. 
 The name is a good name. Any one who 
 has ever known Sir Thomas Acland may 
 like it and love it for his sake : and no wise 
 man will think the worse of it for Tom 
 Fool's. 
 
 No ! the name Thomas is a good name, 
 however it has been disparaged by some of 
 those persons who are known by it at this 
 time. Though Bovius chose to drop it and 
 assume the name Zephiriel in its stead -in 
 honour of his tutelary Angel, the change 
 was not for the better, being indeed only a 
 manifestation of his own unsound state of 
 mind. And though in the reign of King 
 James the First, Mr. William Shepherd of 
 Towcester christened his son by it for a 
 reason savouring of disrespect, it is not the 
 worse for the whimsical consideration that 
 induced him to fix upon it. The boy was 
 born on the never-to-be-forgotten fifth of 
 November 1605, about the very hour when 
 the Gunpowder Treason was to have been 
 consummated ; and the father chose to have 
 him called Thomas, because he said this 
 child, if he lived to grow up, would hardly 
 believe that ever such wickedness could be 
 attempted by the sons of men. 
 
 It is recorded that a parrot which was 
 seized by a kite and carried into the air, 
 escaped by exclaiming Sancte Thoma adjuva 
 
 me ! for upon that powerful appeal the kite 
 relaxed his hold, and let loose the intended 
 victim. This may be believed, though it is 
 among the miracles of Thomas a Becket, to 
 whom and not to the great schoolman of 
 Aquino, nor the Apostle of the East, the 
 invocation was addressed. Has any other 
 human name ever wrought so remarkable a 
 deliverance ? 
 
 Has any other name made a greater noise 
 in the world. Let Lincoln tell, and Oxford ; 
 for although, omnis clocha clochubilis in 
 clocherio clochando, clochans clochativo, clo- 
 charefacit clochabiliter clochantes, yet among 
 them all, Master Janotus de Bragrnardo 
 would have assigned pre-eminence to the 
 mighty Toms. 
 
 The name then is sufficiently vindicated, 
 even if any vindication were needed, when 
 the paramount merits of my claimant are 
 considered. 
 
 Merry Andrew likewise should be pre- 
 sented to receive the same honour, for 
 sundry good reasons, and especially for this, 
 that there is already a Sir Sorry Andrew. 
 
 I should also recommend Tom Noddy, 
 were it not for this consideration, that the 
 honour would probably soon be merged in 
 an official designation, and therefore lost 
 upon him ; forwhen a certain eminent states- 
 man shall be called from the Lower House, 
 as needs he must ere long, unless the party 
 who keep moving and push him forward as 
 their leader, should before that time relieve 
 him of his hereditary rights, dignities, and 
 privileges, no person can possibly be found 
 so worthy to succeed him in office and tread 
 in his steps, as Tom Noddy. 
 
 Nor is Jack Pudding to be forgotten, who 
 is cousin-gerrnan to that merry man Andrew ! 
 He moreover deserves it by virtue of his 
 Puddingship ; the Puddings are of an ancient 
 and good family : the Blacks in particular 
 boast of their blood. 
 
 Take, reader, this epigram of that cheer- 
 ful and kind-hearted schoolmaster Samuel 
 Bishop of Merchant Taylors, written in his 
 vocation upon the theme Aliusque et Idem 
 
 Five countries from five favorite dishes name 
 The popular stage buffoon's professional name.
 
 292 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 H-ilf fish himself, the Dutchman never erring 
 
 From native instinct, styles him Pickle Herring. 
 
 The German whose strong palate haul-gouts fit, 
 
 Calls him Hans Went, that is John-Sausage-Wit. 
 
 The Frenchman ever prone to badinage 
 
 Thinks of his soup, and shrugs, Eh! voila Jean Potagef 
 
 Full of ideas his sweet food supplies, 
 
 The Italian, Ecto Macaroni! cries. 
 
 While English Taste, whose board with dumplin smokes, 
 
 Inspired by what it loves, applauds Jack Pudding's jokes. 
 
 A charming bill of fare, you'll say, to suit 
 
 One dish, and that one dish a Fool, to boot ! 
 
 " A learned man will have it," says 
 Fuller, " that Serapis is nothing more than 
 Apis with the addition of the Hebrew Bar, a 
 Prince, whence perchance our English Sir." 
 Odd, that the whole beast should have ob- 
 tained this title in Egypt, and a part of it in 
 England. For we all know that Loin of 
 Beef has been knighted, and who is not 
 pleased to meet with him at dinner? and 
 John Barleycorn has been knighted, and who 
 is not willing to pledge him in all companies 
 in a glass ? 
 
 But wherefore should I adduce prece- 
 dents, as if in this age any regard were paid 
 to them in the distribution of honours, or 
 there could be any need of them in a case 
 which may so well stand upon its own 
 merits. 
 
 CHAPTER CXIX. 
 
 THE DOCTOR IN HIS CUBE. IRRELIGION THE 
 REPROACH OF HIS PROFESSION. 
 
 Virtue, and that part of philosophy 
 Will I apply, that treats of happiness 
 By virtue especially to be achieved. 
 
 TAMING op THE SHREW. 
 
 A PRACTITIONER of medicine possesses in 
 what may be called his cure, that knowledge 
 of all who are under his care, which the 
 parochial priest used to possess in former 
 times, and will it is to be hoped regain when- 
 ever the most beneficial of all alterations 
 shall be effected in the Church Establish- 
 ment, and no Clergyman shall have a duty 
 imposed upon him which it Is impossible to 
 fulfil, impossible it is, if his parishioners 
 are numbered by thousands instead of hun- 
 dreds. In such cases one of two conse- 
 
 quences must inevitably ensue. Either he 
 will confine himself to the formalities of his 
 office, and because he cannot by any exer- 
 tions do what ought to be done, rest con- 
 tented with performing the perfunctory 
 routine; or he will exert himself to the 
 utmost till his health, and perhaps his heart 
 also, is broken in a service which is too often 
 found as thankless as it is hopeless. 
 
 Our Doctor was, among the poorer fami- 
 lies in his cure, very much what Herbert's 
 Country Parson is imagined to be in his 
 parish. There was little pauperism there at 
 that time ; indeed none that existed in a de- 
 gree reproachful to humanity ; or in that 
 obtrusive and clamorous form which at pre- 
 sent in so many parts of this misgoverned 
 country insults, and outrages, and endangers 
 society. The labourers were not so ill paid 
 as to be justly discontented with their lot ; 
 and he was not in a manufacturing district. 
 His profession led him among all classes ; 
 and his temper as well as his education 
 qualified him to sympathise with all, and 
 accommodate himself to each as far as such 
 accommodation was becoming. Yet he was 
 everywhere the same man ; he spoke the 
 King's English in one circle, and the King's 
 Yorkshire in another ; but this was the only 
 difference in his conversation with high and 
 low. Before the professors of his art in- 
 deed, in the exercise of their calling, the 
 distinctions of society disappear, and poor 
 human nature is stripped to its humanities. 
 Rank, and power, and riches, these 
 
 cannot take a passion away, Sir, 
 Nor cut a fit but one poor hour shorter.* 
 
 The most successful stock-jobber or manu- 
 facturer that ever counted his wealth by 
 hundreds of thousands 
 
 must endure as much as the poorest beggar 
 That cannot change his money, this is equality 
 In our impartial essences ! * 
 
 Death is not a more inexorable leveller than 
 his precursors age, and infirmity, and sick- 
 ness, and pain. 
 
 Hope, and fear, and grief, and joy act with 
 the same equitable disregard of conventional 
 
 BEAUMONT and FLETCHER.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 293 
 
 distinctions. And though there is reason 
 for disbelieving that the beetle which we 
 tread upon feels as much as a human being 
 suffers in being crushed, it is yet undoubtedly 
 true that except in those cases where indi- 
 viduals have so thoroughly corrupted their 
 feelings as to have thereby destroyed the in- 
 stinctive sense of right and wrong, making 
 evil their good, what may be termed the 
 primitive affections exist in as much strength 
 among the rudest as among the most re- 
 fined. They may be paralysed by pauper- 
 ism, they may be rotted by the licentiousness 
 of luxury ; but there is no grade of society 
 in which they do not exhibit themselves in 
 the highest degree. Tragic poets have been 
 attracted by the sufferings of the great, and 
 have laid the scene of their fables in the 
 higher circles of life ; yet tragedy represents 
 no examples more touching or more dread- 
 ful, for our admiration or abhorrence, to 
 thrill us with sympathy or with indignation, 
 than are continually occurring in all classes 
 of society. 
 
 They who call themselves men of the 
 world and pride themselves accordingly upon 
 their knowledge, are of all men those who 
 know least of human nature. It was well 
 said by a French biographer, though not 
 well applied to the subject* of his biography, 
 that il ai-ait pu, dans la solitude, se former d 
 lamour du vrai et du juste, et meme d la con- 
 noissance de Vhomme, si souvent et si mal d 
 propos confondue avec celle des Jiommes ; c'est- 
 d-dire, avec la petite experience des intrigues 
 mouvantes d"un petit nombre dindividus plus 
 ou moins accredited et des habitudes etroites 
 de leurs petites coteries. La connoissance des 
 Jiommes est d celle de Thomme ce quest Tin- 
 trigue sociale d tart social. 
 
 Of those passions which are or deserve to 
 be the subject of legal and judicial tragedy, 
 the lawyers necessarily see most, and for 
 this reason perhaps they think worse of 
 human nature than any other class of men, 
 except the Roman Catholic Clergy. Phy- 
 sicians, on the contrary, though they see 
 humanity in its most humiliating state, see 
 
 * The ABBE SIEVES. 
 
 it also in the exercise of its holiest and most 
 painful duties. No other persons witness 
 such deep emotions and such exertions of 
 self-control. They know what virtues are 
 developed by the evils which flesh is heir 
 to, what self-devotion, what patience, what 
 fortitude, what piety, what religious re- 
 signation. 
 
 Wherefore is it then that physicians have 
 lain under the reproach of irreligion, who of 
 all men best know how fearfully and wonder- 
 fully we are made, and who, it might be 
 thought, would be rendered by the scenes 
 at which they are continually called upon 
 to assist, of all men the most religious ? Sir 
 Thomas Brown acknowledges that this was 
 the general scandal of his profession, and his 
 commentator Sir Kenelm Digby observes 
 upon the passage, that " Physicians do com- 
 monly hear ill in this behalf," and that " it 
 is a common speech (but," he parenthesises, 
 " only amongst the unlearned sort) ubi tres 
 medici duo athei" Rabelais defines a Phy- 
 sician to be animal incombustible propter 
 religionem. 
 
 " As some mathematicians," says an old 
 Preacher, " deal so much in Jacob's staff 
 that they forget Jacob's ladder, so some 
 Physicians (God decrease the number !) are 
 so deep naturalists that they are very'shallow 
 Christians. With us, Grace waits, at the 
 heels of Nature, and they dive so deep into 
 the secrets of philosophy that they never 
 look up to the mysteries of Divinity." 
 
 Old Adam Littleton, who looked at every 
 thing in its best light, took a different view 
 of the effect of medical studies, in his sermon 
 upon St. Luke's day. " His character of 
 Physician," said he, " certainly gave him no 
 mean advantage, not only in the exercise 
 of his ministry by an acceptable address 
 and easy admission which men of that profes- 
 sion everywhere find among persons of any 
 civility ; but even to his understanding of 
 Christian truths and to the apprehending 
 the mysteries of faith. 
 
 " For having, as that study directed him, 
 gone orderly over all the links of that chain 
 by which natural causes are mutually tied to 
 on another, till he found God the supreme
 
 294 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 cause and first mover at the top ; having 
 traced the footsteps of Divine Goodness 
 through all the most minute productions of 
 his handmaid Nature, and yet finding human 
 reason puzzled and at a loss in giving an 
 account of his almighty power . and infinite 
 wisdom in the least and meanest of his 
 works ; with what pious humility must he 
 needs entertain supernatural truths, when 
 upon trial he had found every the plainest 
 thing in common nature itself was mystery, 
 and saw he had as much reason for his 
 believing these proposals of faith, as he had 
 for trusting the operations of sense, or the 
 collections of reason itself. 
 
 " I know there is an unworthy reproach 
 cast upon this excellent study that it in- 
 clines men to atheism. 'Tis true the ig- 
 norance and corruption of men that profess 
 any of the three honourable faculties bring 
 scandal upon the faculty itself. Again, 
 sciolists and half-witted men are those that 
 discredit any science they meddle with. 
 But he that pretends to the noble skill of 
 physic, and dares to deny that which doth 
 continually incurrere in sensus, that which 
 in all his researches and experiments he must 
 meet with at every turn, I dare to say he is 
 no Physician ; or at least that he doth at 
 once give his profession and his conscience 
 too the lye." 
 
 CHAPTER CXX. 
 
 EFFECT OF MEDICAL STUDIES ON DIFFERENT 
 DISPOSITIONS. JEW PHYSICIANS. ESTI- 
 MATION AND ODIUM IN WHICH THEY WEKE 
 HELD. 
 
 Confiesso la digression ; mas es facil al tjue no quisiere 
 leerla, pastar al capitulo siguicnle, y esta advertencia 
 sirva de disculpa. 
 
 Luis MCNOZ. 
 
 IF the elder Daniel had thought that the 
 moral feelings and religious principles of his 
 son were likely to be endangered by the 
 study of medicine, he would never have 
 been induced to place him with a medical 
 practitioner. But it seemed to him, good 
 
 man, that the more we study the works of 
 the Creator, the more we must perceive and 
 feel his wisdom, and his power, and his 
 goodness. It was so in his own case, and, 
 like Adam Littleton and all simple-hearted 
 men, he judged of others by himself. 
 
 Nevertheless that the practice of Physic, 
 and still more of surgery, should have an 
 effect like that of war upon the persons 
 engaged in it, is what those who are well 
 acquainted with human nature might expect, 
 and would be at no loss to account for. It 
 is apparent that in all these professions 
 coarse minds must be rendered coarser, and 
 hard hearts still farther indurated ; and that 
 there is a large majority of such minds and 
 hearts in every profession, trade and calling, 
 few who have had any experience of the 
 ways of the world can doubt. We need not 
 look farther for the immediate cause. Add 
 to a depraved mind and an unfeeling dispo- 
 sition either a subtle intellect or a daring 
 one, and you have all the preparations for 
 atheism that the Enemy could desire. 
 
 But other causes may be found in the 
 history of the medical profession, which was 
 an art, in the worst sense of the word, before 
 it became a science, and long after it pre- 
 tended to be a science, was little better 
 than a craft. Among savages the sorcerer 
 is always the physician ; and to this day 
 superstitious remedies are in common use 
 among the ignorant in all countries. But 
 wherever the practice is connected with 
 superstition as free scope is presented to 
 wickedness as to imagination ; and there 
 have been times in which it became ob- 
 noxious to much obloquy, which on this 
 score was well deserved. 
 
 Nothing exposed the Jews to more odium 
 in ages when they were held most odious, 
 than the reputation which they possessed as 
 physicians. There is a remarkable instance 
 of the esteem in which they were held for 
 their supposed superiority in this art as late 
 as the middle of the sixteenth century. 
 Francis I. after a long illness in which he 
 found no benefit from his own physicians, 
 dispatched a courier into Spain, requesting 
 Charles V. to send him the most skilful
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 295 
 
 Jewish practitioner in his dominions. This 
 afforded matter for merriment to the Spa- 
 niards ; the Emperor, however, gave orders 
 to make inquiry for one, and when he could 
 hear of none who would trust himself in that 
 character, he sent a New-Christian phy- 
 sician, with whom he supposed Francis 
 would be equally satisfied. But when this 
 person arrived in France, the King by way of 
 familiar discourse sportively asked him if he 
 were not yet tired of expecting the Messiah ? 
 Such a question produced from the new 
 Convert a declaration that he was a Chris- 
 tian, upon which the King dismissed him 
 immediately without consulting him, and 
 sent forthwith to Constantinople for a Jew. 
 The one who came found it necessary to 
 prescribe nothing more for his royal patient 
 than Asses' milk. 
 
 This reputation in which their physicians 
 were held was owing in great measure to the 
 same cause which gave them their superiority 
 in trade. The general celebrity which they 
 had obtained in the dark ages, and which is 
 attested by Eastern tales as well as by 
 European history, implies that they had 
 stores of knowledge which were not acces- 
 sible to other people. And indeed as they 
 communicated with all parts of the known 
 world, and with parts of it which were un- 
 known to the Christian nations, they had 
 means of obtaining the drugs of the East, 
 and the knowledge of what remedies were in 
 use there, which was not of less importance 
 in an art, founded, as far as it was of any 
 avail, wholly upon experience. That know- 
 ledge they reserved to themselves, perhaps 
 as much v,-ith a view to national as to pro- 
 fessional interests. 
 
 Nicolas Antonio sent to Bertolacci a 
 manuscript entitled Otzar Haanijm, that is, 
 " The Treasure of the Poor," written by a 
 certain Master Julian in the Portuguese 
 language, but in rabbinical characters. It 
 was a collection of simple receipts for all 
 diseases, and appears to have been written 
 thus that it might be serviceable to those 
 only who were acquainted with Hebrew. 
 There was good policy in this. A king's 
 physician in those days was hardly a less 
 
 important person than a king's confessor ; 
 with many princes indeed he would be the 
 more influential of the two, as being the 
 most useful, and frequently the best in- 
 formed ; and in those times of fearful in- 
 security, it might fall within his power, like 
 Mordecai, to avert some great calamity from 
 his nation. 
 
 Among the articles which fantastic super- 
 stition, or theories not less fantastic, had in- 
 troduced into the materia medico, there were 
 some which seemed more appropriate to the 
 purposes of magic than of medicine, and 
 some of an atrocious kind. Human fat was 
 used as an unguent, that of infants as a 
 cosmetic. Romances mention baths of 
 children's blood ; and there were times and 
 countries in which such a remedy was as 
 likely to be prescribed, as imagined in 
 fiction. It was believed that deadly poisons 
 might be extracted from the human body ; 
 and they who were wicked enough to 
 administer the product, would not be scru- 
 pulous concerning the means whereby it 
 was procured. One means indeed was by 
 tormenting the living subject. To such 
 practices no doubt Harrison alludes when, 
 speaking, in Elizabeth's reign, of those who 
 graduated in the professions or law or 
 physic, he says, " one thing only I mislike in 
 them, and that is their usual going into 
 Italy, from whence very few without special 
 grace do return good men, whatever they 
 pretend of conference or practice; chiefly 
 the physicians, who under pretence of seek- 
 ing of foreign simples, do oftentimes learn 
 the framing of such compositions as were 
 better unknown than practised, as I have 
 often heard alleged." The suspicion of such 
 practices attached more to the Jewish than 
 to any other physicians, because of the 
 hatred with which they were supposed to 
 regard all Christians, a feeling which the 
 populace in every country, and very fre- 
 quently the Rulers also, did everything to 
 deserve. The general scandal of atheism lay 
 against the profession ; but to be a Jew was 
 in common opinion to be worse than an 
 atheist, and calumnies were raised against 
 the Jew Physicians on the specific ground of
 
 296 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 their religion, which, absurd and monstrous 
 as they were, popular credulity was ready 
 to receive. One imputation was that they 
 made it a point of conscience to kill one 
 patient in five, as a sacrifice of atonement 
 for the good which they had done to the 
 other four. Another was that the blood of 
 a Christian infant was always administered to 
 a Jewess in child-bed, and was esteemed so 
 necessary an ingredient in their superstitious 
 ceremonies or their medical practice at such 
 times, that they exported it in a dried and 
 pulverised form to Mahomrnedan countries, 
 where it could not be obtained fresh. 
 
 They are some pages in Jackson's Treatise 
 upon the Eternal Truth of Scripture and 
 Christian Belief, which occurring in a work 
 of such excellent worth, and coming from 
 so profound and admirable a writer, must be 
 perused by every considerate reader with as 
 much sorrow as surprise. They show to 
 what a degree the most judicious and chari- 
 table mind may be deluded when seeking 
 eagerly for proofs of a favourite position or 
 important doctrine, even though the posi- 
 tion and the doctrine should be certainly 
 just. Forgetful of the excuse which he has 
 himself suggested for the unbelief of the 
 Jews since the destruction of Jerusalem, 
 saying, with equal truth and felicity of ex- 
 pression, that " their stubborness is but a 
 strong hope malignified, or, as we say, grown 
 wild and out of kind," he gives credit * to 
 the old atrocious tales of their crucifying 
 Christian children, and finds in them an 
 argument for confirming our faith at which 
 the most iron-hearted supralapsarian might 
 shudder. For one who passes much of his 
 time with books, and with whom the dead 
 are as it were living and conversing, it is 
 almost as painful to meet in an author 
 whom he reveres and loves, with anything 
 which shocks his understanding and disturbs 
 his moral sense, as it is to perceive the faults 
 of a dear friend. When we discover aberra- 
 tions of this kind in such men, it should 
 teach us caution for ourselves as well as 
 tolerance for others ; and thus we may 
 
 E.g. vol. i. p. 148. &c. Ed. Folio. 
 
 derive some benefit even from the errors of 
 the wise and good. 
 
 That the primitive Christian should have 
 regarded the Jews with hostile feelings as 
 their first persecutors, was but natural, and 
 that that feeling should have been aggravated 
 by a just and religious horror for the crime 
 which has drawn upon this unhappy nation 
 its abiding punishment. But it is indeed 
 strange that during so many centuries this 
 enmity should have continued to exist, and 
 that no sense of compassion should have 
 mitigated it. For the Jews to have inherited 
 the curse of their fathers was in the ap- 
 prehension of ordinary minds to inherit 
 their guilt ; and the cruelties which man 
 inflicted upon them were interpreted as 
 proofs of the continued wrath of Heaven, so 
 that the very injuries and sufferings which 
 in any other case would have excited com- 
 miseration, served in this to close the heart 
 against it. Being looked upon as God's 
 outlaws, they were everywhere placed as it 
 were under the ban of humanity. And while 
 these heart-hardening prepossessions sub- 
 sisted against them in full force, the very 
 advantages of which they were in possession 
 rendered them more especial objects of 
 envy, suspicion, and popular hatred. In 
 times when literature had gone to decay 
 throughout all Christendom, the Jews had 
 not partaken of the general degradation. 
 They had Moses and the Prophets, whose 
 ever lastinglamps were kept trimmed amongst 
 them, and burning clearly through the dark 
 when the light of the Gospel had grown dim 
 in the socket, and Monkery and Popery had 
 well nigh extinguished it. They possessed 
 a knowledge of distant countries which was 
 confined to themselves ; for being dispersed 
 everywhere, they travelled everywhere with 
 the advantage of a language which was 
 spoken by the Children of Israel wherever 
 they were found, and nowhere by any other 
 people. As merchants therefore and as 
 statesmen they had opportunities peculiar to 
 themselves. In both capacities those Princes 
 who had any sense of policy found them 
 eminently useful. But wealth made them 
 envied, and the way in which they increased
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 297 
 
 it by lending money made them odious in 
 ages when to take any interest was accounted 
 usury.* That odium was aggravated when- 
 ever they were employed in raising taxes ; and 
 as they could not escape odium, they seem 
 sometimes to have braved it in despite or in 
 despair, and to have practised extortion if 
 not in defiance of public opinion, at least as 
 a species of retaliation for the exactions 
 which they themselves endured, and the 
 frauds which unprincipled debtors were 
 always endeavouring to practise upon them. 
 But as has already been observed, nothing 
 exposed them to greater obloquy than the 
 general opinion which was entertained of 
 their skill in medicine, and of the flagitious 
 practices with which it was accompanied. 
 The conduct of the Romish Church tended 
 to strengthen that obloquy, even when it 
 did not directly accredit the calumnies which 
 exasperated it. Several Councils denounced 
 excommunication against any persons who 
 should place themselves under the care of 
 a Jewish Physician, for it was pernicious 
 and scandalous they said, that Christians, 
 who ought to despise and hold in horror' 
 the enemies of their holy religion, should 
 have recourse to them for remedies in sick- 
 ness. They affirmed that medicines admi- 
 nistered by such impious hands became 
 hurtful instead of helpful ; and, moreover, 
 that the familiarity thus produced between 
 a Jewish practitioner and a Christian family 
 gave occasion to great evil and to many 
 crimes. The decree of the Lateran Council 
 by which physicians were enjoined, under 
 heavy penalties, to require that their patients 
 should confess and communicate before they 
 administered any medicines to them, seems 
 to have been designed as much against 
 Jewish practitioners as heretical patients. 
 The Jews on their part were not more cha- 
 ritable, when they could express their feel- 
 ings with safety. It appears in their own 
 books that a physician was forbidden by the 
 Rabbis to attend upon either a Christian 
 or Gentile, unless he dared not refuse ; 
 
 * See the remarkable words of Jewel on 1 Thess. iv. 6. 
 pp. 78 86. Ed. Folio. 1611. Archbishop Abbot's Lectures 
 on Jonah, p. 90. Ed. 1613. 4to. 
 
 under compulsion it was lawful, but he was 
 required to demand payment for his ser- 
 vices, and never to attend any such patients 
 gratuitously. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXI. 
 
 WHEREIN IT APPEARS THAT SANCHo's PHY- 
 SICIAN AT BARATARIA ACTED ACCORDING 
 TO PRECEDENTS AND PRESCRIBED LAWS. 
 
 Lettor, tu vedi ben com' io innalzo 
 
 La mia materia, e pert) con piu arte 
 
 Non ti maravigliar ' i' la rincalzo. DANTB. 
 
 BUT the practice both of medicine and of 
 surgery, whatever might be the religion of 
 the practitioner, was obnoxious to suspicions 
 for which the manners of antiquity, of the 
 dark ages, and of every corrupted society, 
 gave but too much cause. It was a power 
 that could be exercised for evil as well as 
 for good. 
 
 One of the most detestable acts recorded 
 in ancient history is that of the Syrian usur- 
 per Tryphon, who, when he thought it 
 expedient to make away with young Anti- 
 ochus, the heir to the kingdom, delivered 
 him into a surgeon's hands to be cut for the 
 stone, that he might in that mannei; be put 
 to death. It is a disgraceful fact that the 
 most ancient operation known to have been 
 used in surgery, is that abominable one 
 which to the reproach of the civil and ec- 
 clesiastical authorities is still practised in 
 Italy. 
 
 Physicians were not supposed to be more 
 scrupulous than surgeons. The most famous 
 and learned Doctor Christopher Wirtzung, 
 whose General Practice of Physic was trans- 
 lated from German into English at the 
 latter end of Queen Elizabeth's reign, by 
 his countryman Jacob Mosan, Doctor in the 
 same faculty, has this remarkable section in 
 his work : 
 
 " Ancient Physicians were wont to have 
 an old proverb, and to say that Venom is 
 so proud that it dwelleth commonly in gold 
 and silver ; whereby they meant that great
 
 298 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 personages that eat and drink out of gold 
 and silver, are in greater danger to be poi- 
 soned than the common people that do eat 
 and drink out of earthen dishes." Chris- 
 topher Wirtzung might have quoted Juve- 
 nal here : 
 
 Nulla aconita bibuntvr 
 
 Fictilibus. Tune ilia time, cum pucula sumet 
 Gemmata, et Into Setinum ardebit in auro. 
 
 "Wherefore," proceeds the German Doctor, 
 " must such high personages that are afraid 
 to be poisoned, diligently take heed of the 
 meat and drink that they eat, and that are 
 dressed of divers things. Also they must 
 not take too much of all sweet, salt and sour 
 drinks ; and they must not eat too eagerly, 
 nor too hastily ; and they must at all times 
 have great regard of the first taste of their 
 meat and drink. But the most surest way 
 is, that before the mealtide he take some- 
 what that may resist venom, as figs, rue, or 
 nuts, each by himself, or tempered together. 
 The citrons, rape-seed, nepe, or any of those 
 that are described before, the weight of a 
 drachm taken with wine, now one and then 
 another, is very much commended. Some- 
 times also two figs with a little salt, then 
 again mithridate or treacle, and such like 
 more may be used before the mealtide." 
 
 " It is a matter of much difficulty," says 
 Ambrose Pare, " to avoid poisons, because 
 such as at this time temper them are so 
 thoroughly prepared for deceit and mischief 
 that they will deceive even the most wary 
 and quick-sighted ; for they so qualify the 
 ingrate taste and smell by the admixture of 
 sweet and well-smelling things that they 
 cannot easily be perceived even by the skil- 
 ful. Therefore such as fear poisoning ought 
 to take heed of meats cooked with much 
 art, very sweet, salt, sour, or notably en- 
 dued with any other taste. And when they 
 are opprest with hunger or thirst, they must 
 not eat nor drink too greedily, but have a 
 diligent regard to the taste of such things 
 as they eat or drink. Besides, before meat 
 let them take such things as may weaken 
 the strength of the poisons, such as is the 
 fat broth of good nourishing flesh-meats. 
 
 In the morning let them arm themselves 
 with treaele or mithridate, and conserve of 
 roses, or the leaves of rue, a walnut and dry 
 figs : besides let him presently drink a little 
 draught of muscadine, or some other good 
 wine." 
 
 How frequent the crime of poisoning had 
 become in the dark ages appears by the old 
 laws of almost every European people, in 
 some of which indeed its frequency, Proh 
 dolor! is alleged as a reason for enacting 
 statutes against it. And whilst in the empire 
 the capital sentence might be compounded 
 for, like other cases of homicide, by a stated 
 compensation to the representatives of the 
 deceased, no such redemption was allowed 
 among the Wisi-Goths, but the poisoner, 
 whether freeman or slave, was to suffer the 
 most ignominious death. In the lower ranks 
 of life men were thought to be in most 
 danger of being thus made away with by 
 their wives, in the higher by their Physicians 
 and their cooks. 
 
 There are two curious sections upon this 
 subject in the Laws of Alphonso the Wise, 
 'the one entitled Quotes deben ser los fisicos 
 del Rey, et que es lo que deben facer ; 
 What the Physicians of a King ought to be, 
 and what it is they ought to do : the 
 other, Quotes deben ser los ojiciales del Rey 
 que le han de servir en su coiner et en su 
 beber : What the officers of a King ought to 
 be who minister to him at his eating and at 
 his drinking. 
 
 " Physic," says the royal author, " ac- 
 cording as the wise antients have shown, is 
 as much as to say the knowledge of under- 
 standing things according to nature, what 
 they are in themselves, and what effect each 
 produces upon other things ; and therefore 
 they who understand this well, can do much 
 good, and remove many evils ; especially by 
 preserving life and keeping men in health, 
 averting from them the infirmities whereby 
 they suffer great misery, or are brought to 
 death. And they who do this are called 
 Physicians, who not only must endeavour to 
 deliver men from their maladies, but also to 
 preserve their health in such manner that 
 they may not become sick ; wherefore it is
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 299 
 
 necessary that those whom the King has 
 with him should be right good. And as 
 Aristotle said to Alexander, four things are 
 required in them ; First that they should 
 be knowing in their art ; secondly, that they 
 should be well approved in it ; thirdly, that 
 they should be skilled in the cases which 
 may occur ; fourthly, that they should be 
 right loyal and true. For if they are not 
 knowing in their art, they will not know how 
 to distinguish diseases ; and if they are not 
 well approved in it, they will not be able to 
 give such certain advice, which is a thing 
 from whence great hurt arises ; and if they 
 are not skilful, they will not be able to act 
 in cases of great danger when such may 
 happen ; and if they are not loyal, they can 
 commit greater treasons than other men, be- 
 cause they can commit them covertly. And 
 when the King shall have Physicians in 
 whom these four aforesaid things are found, 
 and who use them well, he ought to do them 
 much honour and much good ; and if per- 
 adventure they should act otherwise know- 
 ingly, they commit known treason, and 
 deserve such punishment as men who trea- 
 cherously kill others that have confided in 
 them. 
 
 " Regiment also in eating and drinking 
 is a thing without which the body cannot be 
 maintained, and therefore the officers who 
 have to minister to the King or others have 
 no less place than those of whom we have 
 spoken above, as to the preservation of his 
 life and his health. For albeit the Phy- 
 sicians should do all their endeavours to 
 preserve him, they will not be able to do it 
 if he who prepares his food for him should 
 not choose to take the same care ; we say the 
 same also of those who serve him with bread, 
 and wine, and fruit, and all other things of 
 which he has to eat, or drink. And accord- 
 ing as Aristotle said to Alexander, in these 
 officers seven things are required ; First, 
 that they be of good lineage, for if they be, 
 they will always take heed of doing things 
 which would be ill for them ; secondly, that 
 they be loyal, for if they be not so, great 
 danger might come to the King from them ; 
 thirdly, that they be skilful, so that they 
 
 may know how to do those things well which 
 appertain to their offices: fourthly, that they 
 be of good understanding, so that they may 
 know how to comprehend the good which the 
 King may do them, and that they be not 
 puffed up, nor become insolent because of 
 their good fortune ; fifthly, that they be not 
 over covetous, for great covetousness is the 
 root of all evil ; sixthly, that they be not 
 envious in evil envy, lest if they should be, 
 they might haply be moved thereby to com- 
 mit some wrong ; seventhly, that they be 
 not much given to anger, for it is a thing 
 which makes a man beside himself, and this 
 is unseemly in those who hold such offices. 
 And also besides all those things which we 
 have specified, it behoveth them greatly 
 that they be debonair and clean, so that 
 what they have to prepare for the King, 
 whether to eat or drink, may be well pre- 
 pared ; and that they serve it to him clean- 
 lily, for if it be clean he will be pleased with 
 it, and if it be well prepared he will savour 
 it the better, and it will do him the more 
 good. And when the King shall have such 
 men as these in these offices, he ought to 
 love them, and to do them good and honour ; 
 and if peradventure he should find that any 
 one offends in not doing his office loyally, so 
 that hurt might come thereof to the person 
 of the King, he ought to punish him both in 
 his body and in his goods, as a man who doth 
 one of the greatest treasons that can be." 
 
 The fear in which the Princes of more 
 barbarous states lived in those ages is no- 
 where so fully declared as in the Palace- 
 laws compiled by that King of Majorca who 
 was slain at the battle of Cressy, from which 
 laws those of his kinsman Pedro the Cere- 
 monious of Arragon, who drove him from 
 his kingdom, were chiefly taken. His butler, 
 his under butler, his major domo, and his 
 cooks were to swear fealty and homage, 
 quid tarn propter nefandissimam infidelitatem 
 aliquorum ministrorum, quam ipsorum negli- 
 gentiam, quce est totius boni inimica, qua 
 ministrante omittuntur prcecavenda, nudivimus 
 pluries tarn Regibus quam aliis Principibus 
 maxima pericula evenisse, quod est plus quam 
 summe abhorrendum. No stranger might
 
 ?00 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 approach the place where any food for the 
 King's table was prepared or kept ; and all 
 the cooks, purveyors and sub-purveyors, and 
 the major domo, and the chamberlain were to 
 taste of every dish which was served up to 
 him. The noble who ministered to him when 
 he washed at table was to taste the water, 
 and the barber who washed his head was to 
 do the like ; for great as the King was, being 
 mindful that he was still but a man, he 
 acknowledged it necessary that he should 
 have a barber, pro humanis necessitatibus, 
 quibus natura hominum quantacunque /return 
 potentia nullum fecit expertem, etiam nos 
 Barbitonsorum officio indigemus. His tailor 
 was to work in a place where no suspicious 
 people could have access ; and whatever 
 linen was used for his bed, or board, or 
 more especially for his apparel, was to be 
 washed in a secret place, and by none but 
 known persons. The Chief Physician was 
 to taste all the medicines that he adminis- 
 tered. Every morning he was to inspect 
 the royal urinal, and if he perceived any 
 thing amiss prescribe accordingly. He was 
 to attend at table, caution the King against 
 eating of anything that might prove hurt- 
 ful, and if, notwithstanding all precautions, 
 poisons should be administered, he was to 
 have his remedies at hand. 
 
 By the Chinese laws, if either the super- 
 intending or dispensing officer, or the cook, 
 introduces into the Emperor's kitchen any 
 unusual drug, or article of food, he is to be 
 punished with an hundred blows, and com- 
 pelled to swallow the same. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXIL 
 
 A CHAPTER WHEREIN STUDENTS IN SURGERY 
 MAT FIND SOME FACTS WHICH WERE NEW 
 TO THEM IN THE HISTORY OF THEIR OWN 
 PROFESSION. 
 
 If I have more to spin, 
 The wheel shall go. HERBERT. 
 
 ANOTHER reproach to which the medical 
 profession was exposed arose from the pre- 
 paratory studies which it required. The 
 
 natural but unreflecting sentiment of horror 
 with which anatomy is everywhere regarded 
 by the populace, was unfortunately sanc- 
 tioned by the highest authorities of the 
 Roman Church. Absolutely necessary for 
 the general good as that branch of science 
 indisputably is, it was reprobated by some 
 of the Fathers in the strongest and most 
 unqualified terms ; they called it butchering 
 the bodies of the dead ; and all persons who 
 should disinter a corpse for this purpose 
 were excommunicated by a decree of Boni- 
 face the Vlllth, wherein the science itself 
 was pronounced abominable both in the eyes 
 of God and man. In addition to this cause 
 of obloquy, there was a notion that cruel 
 experiments, such as are now made upon 
 animals and too often unnecessarily, and 
 therefore wickedly repeated, were sometimes 
 performed upon living men.* The Egyptian 
 Physician who is believed first to have 
 taught that the nerves are the organs of 
 sensation, is said to have made the discovery 
 by dissecting criminals alive. The fact is 
 not merely stated by Celsus, but justified by 
 him. Deducing its justification as a conse- 
 quence from the not-to-be-disputed asser- 
 tion cum in interioribus partibus et dolores, et 
 morborum varia genera nascantur, neminem 
 his adhibere posse remedia, qua ipse ignoret : 
 necessarium ergo esse, he proceeds to say, 
 incidere corpora mortuorum, eorumque viscera 
 atque intestina scrutari. LONGEQUE OPTIME 
 FECISSE Heropldlum et Erasistratum, qui 
 nocentes homines a regibus ex carcere ac- 
 ceptos, vivos INCIDEHINT; consider arintque, 
 ETIAM SPIRITU MANENTE, ea qucs natura antea 
 clausisset, eorumque posituram, colorem, figu- 
 ram, magnitudinem, ordinem, duritiem, molli- 
 tiem, Icevorem, contactum; processus deinde 
 singulorum et recessus ; et sive quid inseritur 
 alteri, sive quid partem alterius in se recipit. 
 As late as the sixteenth century surgeons 
 were wont to beg (as it was called) con- 
 demned malefactors, whom they professed 
 to put to death in their own way, by opium 
 before they opened them. It might well be 
 suspected that these disciples of Celsus were 
 
 * The curious reader should refer to Nicolai Klimii 
 Her Subterranetim, c. ix. p. 139. Ed. 1766.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 301 
 
 not more scrupulous than their master ; and 
 they who thus took upon themselves the 
 business of an executioner, had no reason to 
 complain if they shared in the reproach 
 attached to his infamous office. 
 
 A French author * of the sixteenth cen- 
 tury says that the Physicians at Montpelier, 
 which was then a great school of medicine, 
 had every year two criminals, the one living, 
 the other dead, delivered to them for dissec- 
 tion. He relates that on one occasion they 
 tried what effect the mere expectation of 
 death would produce upon a subject in per- 
 fect health, and in order to this experiment 
 they told the gentleman (for such was his 
 rank) who was placed at their discretion, 
 that, as the easiest mode of taking away his 
 life they would employ the means which 
 Seneca had chosen for himself, and would 
 therefore open his veins in warm water. 
 Accordingly they covered his face, pinched 
 his feet without lancing them, and set them 
 in a foot-bath, and then spoke to each other 
 as if they saw that the blood were flowing 
 freely, and life departing with it. The man 
 remained motionless, and when after a while 
 they uncovered his face they found him 
 dead. 
 
 It would be weakness or folly to deny 
 that dangerous experiments for the promo- 
 tion of medical or surgical practice may, 
 without breach of any moral law, or any 
 compunctious feeling, be tried upon crimi- 
 nals whose lives are justly forfeited. The 
 Laureate has somewhere in his farraginous 
 notes de omnibus rebus et quibusdam aliis, 
 produced a story of certain Polish physicians 
 who obtained permission to put on the head 
 of a criminal as soon as it had been cut off, 
 and an assurance of his pardon if they should 
 succeed in reuniting it. There is nothing to 
 be objected to such an experiment, except 
 its utter unreasonableness. 
 
 When it was necessary that what was at 
 that time a most difficult and dangerous 
 surgical operation should be performed upon 
 Louis XIV., inquiry was made for men 
 afflicted with the same disease; they were 
 
 * BOUCHET. 
 
 conveyed to the house of the minister Lou- 
 vois, and there in the presence of the King's 
 physician Fagon, Felix the chief surgeon 
 operated upon them. Most of these patients 
 died ; they were interred by night, but, 
 notwithstanding all precautions, it was ob- 
 served that dead bodies were secretly carried 
 from that house, and rumours got abroad 
 that a conspiracy had been discovered, that 
 suspected persons had been brought before 
 the minister, and had either died under the 
 question or been made away with by poison 
 under his roof. The motive for this secresy 
 was that the King might be saved from that 
 anxiety which the knowledge of what was 
 going on must have excited in him. In 
 consequence of these experiments, Felix 
 invented new instruments which he tried at 
 the Hotel des Invalides, and when he had 
 succeeded with them the result was com- 
 municated to the King, who submitted to 
 the operation with characteristic fortitude. 
 The surgeon performed it firmly and suc- 
 cessfully ; but the agitation which he had 
 long struggled against and suppressed, pro- 
 duced then a general tremour from which 
 he never recovered. The next day, in bleed- 
 ing one of his own friends he maimed him 
 for life. 
 
 This was a case in which the most consci- 
 entious practitioner would have felt no 
 misgiving ; there was no intentional sacrifice 
 of life, or infliction of unnecessary suffer- 
 ing. So too when inoculation for the small- 
 pox was introduced into this country ; some 
 condemned criminals gladly consented to be 
 inoculated instead of hanged, and saved 
 their lives by the exchange. 
 
 It is within the memory of some old mem- 
 bers of the profession, that a man was 
 sentenced to death at the Old Bailey, who 
 had a wen upon his throat weighing between 
 thirty and forty pounds. To hang him was 
 impossible without circumstances of such 
 revolting cruelty as would, even at that 
 time, have provoked a general outcry of 
 indignation. The case found its way from 
 the lawyers to the surgeons ; the latter ob- 
 tained his pardon, and took off the tumour. 
 John Hunter was the operator ; the man,
 
 302 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 his offence not having been of a very heinous 
 kind, though the indiscriminating laws made 
 it at that time capital, was taken into his 
 service, and used to show his own wen in 
 his master's museum; it was the largest from 
 which any person had ever been relieved. 
 The fate of the poor Chinese who underwent 
 a similar operation in London with a differ- 
 ent result, is fresh in remembrance and will 
 long be remembered. The operation was 
 made a public exhibition for medical stu- 
 dents, instead of being performed with all 
 circumstances that could tend to soothe the 
 patient ; and to the consequent heat of a 
 crowded room, and partly perhaps to the 
 excitement which such an assemblage oc- 
 casioned in the object of their curiosity, the 
 fatal termination was, with too much pro- 
 bability, imputed. We may be sure that no 
 such hazardous operation will ever again be 
 performed in this country in the same pub- 
 lic manner. 
 
 The remarks which were called forth on 
 that occasion are proofs of the great im- 
 provement in general feeling upon such 
 points, that has taken place in modern times. 
 In the reign of Louis XI. a franc-archer of 
 Meudon was condemned to be hanged for 
 robbery and sacrilege ; he appealed to the 
 Court of Parliament, but that Court con- 
 firmed the sentence, and remanded him to 
 the Provost of Paris for execution. The 
 appeal, however, seems to have brought the 
 man into notice, and as he happened to 
 afford a surgical case as well as a criminal 
 one, the surgeons and physicians of the 
 French capital petitioned the King for leave 
 to operate upon him. They represented 
 that many persons were afflicted with the 
 stone and other internal disorders ; that the 
 case of this criminal resembled that of the 
 Sieur de Bouchage, who was then lying 
 dangerously ill ; it was much to be desired 
 for his sake that the inside of a living man 
 should be inspected, and no better subject 
 could have occurred than this franc-archer 
 who was under sentence of death. This 
 application was made at the instance of Ger- 
 maine Colot, a practitioner who had learned 
 his art under one of the Norsini, a Milanese 
 
 family of itinerant surgeons*, celebrated 
 during several generations for their skill in 
 lithotomy. Whether the criminal had his 
 option of being hanged, or opened alive, is 
 not stated ; but Monstrelet, by whom the 
 fact is recorded, says that permission was 
 granted, that the surgeons and physicians 
 opened him, inspected his bowels, replaced 
 them, and then sewed him up ; that the 
 utmost care was taken of him by the King's 
 orders, that in the course of fifteen days he 
 was perfectly cured, and that he was not 
 only pardoned but had a sum of money given 
 him. To such means were the members of 
 this profession driven, because anatomy was 
 virtually if not formally prohibited. 
 
 A much worse example occurred when 
 the French King Henry II. was mortally 
 wounded in tilting with Montgomery. It is 
 stated by most historians, that a splinter 
 from Montgomery's spear entered the King's 
 visor and pierced his eye ; but Vincent Car- 
 loix, who probably was present, and if not, 
 had certainly the best means of information, 
 shows that this is altogether an erroneous 
 statement. He says that when the Scot had 
 broken his spear upon the King, instead of 
 immediately throwing away the truncheon, 
 as he ought to have done, he rode on hold- 
 ing it couched ; the consequence of this 
 inadvertence was, that it struck the King's 
 visor, forced it up, and ran into his eye. 
 His words are these, ayans tous deux fort 
 valeureusement couru et rompu (Tune grande 
 dexterite et adresse leurs lances, ce mal-habile 
 Lorges ne jecta pas, selon I ordinaire cous- 
 tume, le trousse qui demoura en la main la 
 lance rompue ; mais le porta tousjours baisse, 
 et en courant, rencontra la teste du Roy, du 
 quel il donna droit dedans la visiere qui le 
 coup haulsa, et luy creva un ceil. 
 
 The accuracy of this account happens to 
 be of some importance, because the course 
 which the King's surgeons pursued in con- 
 sequence illustrates the state of surgery at 
 that time, and of manners and laws also ; 
 
 * The "Whitworth Doctors," as they were called, 
 were all of one family, in our own country. Their rough- 
 ness and their skill were about on a par.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 303 
 
 for with the hope of ascertaining in what 
 direction the broken truncheon had entered 
 the brain, and how they might best proceed 
 to extract the splinters, they cut off the 
 heads of four criminals, and drove broken 
 truncheons into them, as nearly as they 
 could judge at the same inclination, and 
 then opened the heads. But after these 
 lessons, five or six of the most expert sur- 
 geons in France were as much at a loss 
 as before. 
 
 It was well that there were criminals ready 
 upon the occasion, otherwise perhaps, in the 
 then temper of the French Court, the first 
 Huguenots who came to hand might have 
 been made to serve the turn. And it was 
 well for the subjects that it was not thought 
 advisable to practise upon them alive ; for 
 no scruples would have been entertained 
 upon the score of humanity. When Philip 
 Von Huten, whom the Spanish writers call 
 Felipe de Utre, made his expedition from 
 Venezuela in search of the Omeguas, an 
 Indian wounded him with a spear, under 
 the right arm, through the ribs. One Diego 
 de Montes, who was neither surgeon nor 
 physician, undertook to treat the wound, 
 because there was no person in the party 
 better qualified to attempt it. A life was 
 to be sacrificed for his instruction, and ac- 
 cordingly a friendly Cacique placed the 
 oldest Indian in the village at his disposal. 
 This poor creature was dressed in Von 
 Huten's coat of mail (sayo o escaidpil) and 
 set on horseback ; Montes then ran a spear 
 into him through the hole in this armour, 
 after which he opened him, and found that 
 the integuments of the heart had not been 
 touched, this being what he wished to ascer- 
 tain. The Indian died; but Von Huten's 
 wound was opened and cleansed in full reli- 
 ance upon the knowledge thus obtained, and 
 he recovered. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXm. 
 
 SOME ALLUSION TO, AND SOME USE OP THE 
 FIGURE OF SPEECH CALLED PARENTHESIS. 
 
 J'ecrirai id mes pentees tans ordre, et turn pas peut- 
 etre dans une confusion sans dessein ; c'est le veritable 
 ordre, et qui marquera toujours man objet par le desordre 
 mome. PASCAL. 
 
 GENTLE reader, and if gentle, good read- 
 er, and if good, patient reader : for if not 
 gentle, then not good ; and if not good, then 
 not gentle ; and neither good nor gentle, if 
 not patient; dear reader, who art happily 
 for thyself all three, it is, I know, not less 
 with thy good will than with my own, that 
 I proceed with this part of my subject. 
 Quelle matiere que je traits avec vous, c'est 
 toujours un plaisir pour moi. * You will say 
 to me, " amuse yourself (and me) in your 
 own way ; ride your own round-about, so 
 you do but come to the right point at last." f 
 To that point you are well assured that all 
 my round-abouts tend ; and my care must 
 be to eschew the error of that author, engi- 
 neer, statesman, or adventurer of any kind, 
 
 Which of a weak and niggardly projection, 
 Doth like a miser spoil his coat with scanting 
 A little cloth.; 
 
 Lady Hester Stanhope had an English 
 Physician with her in Syria, who, if he be 
 living, can bear testimony that her Lady- 
 ship did not commit this fault, when she 
 superintended the cutting out of his scarlet 
 galligaskins. Neither will I commit it. 
 
 You indeed, dear reader, would express 
 no displeasure if, instead of proceeding in 
 the straight line of my purpose, I should 
 sometimes find it expedient to retrograde ; 
 or, borrowing a word of barbarous Latin 
 coined in the musician's mint, cancrizare, 
 which may be rendered to crab-grade. For 
 as Roger North says, when, at the com- 
 mencement of his incomparable account of 
 his brother the Lord Keeper's life, he con- 
 fesses that it would be hard to lead a thread 
 
 * MADAME DE MAINTENON. f CUMBERLAND. 
 J SHAKESPEARE.
 
 304 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 in good order of time through it " there 
 are many and various incidents to be re- 
 membered, which will interfere, and make 
 it necessary to step back sometimes, and 
 then again forwards ; and in this manner 
 I hope to evacuate my mind of every matter 
 and thing I know and can remember mate- 
 rially concerning him. And if some things 
 are set down which many may think too 
 trivial, let it be considered that the smallest 
 incidents are often as useful to be known, 
 though not so diverting, as the greater, and 
 profit must always share with entertain- 
 ment." 
 
 I am not, however, side-ling toward my 
 object crab-like ; still less am I starting 
 back from it, like a lobster, whose spring 
 upon any alarm is stern-foremost : nor am I 
 going I know not where, like the three 
 Princes Zoile, Bariandel and Lyriamandre, 
 when, having taken leave of Olivier King 
 of England, to go in search of Rosicler, they 
 took ship at London sans dessein (Taller 
 plustot en un lieu qu'en un autre. Nor like 
 the more famous Prince Don Florisel and 
 Don Falanges, when having gone on board 
 a small vessel, y mandada por ellos en lo alto 
 de la mar meter, hazen con los marineros que 
 no hagan otro camino mas de aquel que la nao 
 movido por la fuerza de los ayres, quisiesse 
 hazer, queriendo yr a buscar con la aventura 
 lo que a ella hallar se permitia segun la poca 
 certinidad que para la demanda podian llevar. 
 
 I should say falsely were I to say with 
 Petrarch, 
 
 Vommene in gttiza iTorbo senza luce, 
 Che non sa ove si vada, e pur si parte. 
 
 But I may say with the Doctor's name- 
 sake Daniel de Bosola in Webster's tragedy,* 
 " I look no higher than I can reach : they 
 are the gods that must ride on winged 
 horses. A lawyer's mule, of a slow pace, 
 will both suit my disposition and business ; 
 for mark me, when a man's mind rides faster 
 than his horse can gallop, they quickly both 
 tire." Moreover 
 
 * DUCHESS op MALFI. 
 
 This 1 hold 
 
 A secret worth its weight in gold 
 
 To those who write as 1 write now, 
 
 Not to mind where they go, or how, 
 
 Thro' ditch, thro' bog, o'er hedge and stile, 
 
 Make it but worth the reader's while, 
 
 And keep a passage fair and plain 
 
 Always to bring him back again. f 
 
 " You may run from major to minor," 
 says Mrs. Bray in one of her letters to Dr. 
 Southey, " and through a thousand changes, 
 so long as you fall into the subject at last, 
 and bring back the ear to the right key at 
 the close." 
 
 Where we are at this present reading, the 
 attentive reader cannot but know ; and if 
 the careless one has lost himself, it is his 
 fault, not mine. We are in the parenthesis 
 between the Doctor's courtship and his 
 marriage. Life has been called a parenthesis 
 between our birth and death j ; the history 
 of the human race is but a parenthesis be- 
 tween two cataclasms of the globe which it 
 inhabits ; time itself only a parenthesis in 
 eternity. The interval here, as might be 
 expected after so summary a wooing, was 
 not long ; no settlements being required, 
 and little preparation. But it is not equally 
 necessary for me to fix the chapter, as it 
 was for them to fix the day. 
 
 Montaigne tells us that he liked better to 
 forge his mind than to furnish it. I have a 
 great liking for old Michel, Seigneur de 
 Montaigne, which the well-read reader may 
 have perceived; who indeed has ever 
 made his acquaintance without liking him ? 
 I have moreover some sympathies with him ; 
 but upon this point we differ. It is more 
 agreeable to me to furnish than to forge, 
 intellectually speaking, to lay in than to lay 
 out ; to eat than to digest. There is 
 however (following the last similitude) an 
 intermediate process eojoyed by the flocks 
 and herds, but denied to Aldermen; th.it 
 process affords so apt a metaphor for an 
 operation of the mind, that the word denot- 
 ing it has passed into common parlance in 
 its metaphorical acceptation, and its original 
 meaning is not always known to those who 
 use it. 
 
 t CHURCHILL. 
 
 J See supra, p. 250.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 305 
 
 It is a pleasure to see the quiet full con- 
 tentment which is manifested both in the 
 posture and look of animals when they are 
 chewing the cud. The nearest approach 
 which humanity makes toward a similar 
 state of feeling, seems to be in smoking, when 
 the smoker has any intellectual cud on which 
 to chew. But ruminating is no whole- 
 some habit for man, who, if he be good for 
 anything, is born as surely to action as to 
 trouble; it is akin to the habit of indulging 
 in day-dreams, which is to be eschewed 
 by every one who tenders his or her own 
 welfare. 
 
 There is, however, a time for everything. 
 And though neither the Doctor nor Deborah 
 had thought of each other in the relation of 
 husband and wife, before the proposal was 
 made, and the silent assent given, they could 
 not choose but ruminate upon the future as 
 well as the past, during the parenthesis that 
 ensued. And though both parties deli- 
 berately approved of what had been suddenly 
 determined, the parenthesis was an uneasy 
 time for both. 
 
 The commentators tell us that readers 
 have found some difficulty in understanding 
 what was Shakespeare's meaning when he 
 made Macbeth say 
 
 If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well 
 It were done quickly. 
 
 Johnson says he never found them agreeing 
 upon it. Most persons, however, are agreed 
 in thinking, that when anything disagreeable 
 must be done, the sooner it is done the 
 better. Who but a child ever holds a dose 
 of physic in his hand, rhubarb to wit, 
 or Epsom salts, delaying as long as pos- 
 sible to take the nauseous draught ? Who 
 ever, when he is ready for the plunge, stands 
 lingering upon the side of the river, or the 
 brink of the cold bath? Who that has 
 entered a shower-bath and closed the door, 
 ever hesitates for a moment to pull the 
 string ? It was upon a false notion of hu- 
 manity that the House of Commons pro- 
 ceeded, when it prolonged the interval 
 between the sentence of a murderer and 
 the execution. The merciful course in all 
 
 cases would be, that execution should follow 
 upon the sentence with the least possible 
 delay. 
 
 "Heaven help the man," says a good- 
 natured and comely reader who has a ring 
 on the fourth finger of her left hand, 
 " Heaven help the man ! Does he compare 
 marriage to hanging, to a dose of physic, 
 and to a plunge over head and ears in cold 
 water?" No, madam, not he : he makes no 
 such unseemly comparisons. He only means 
 to say that when any great change is about 
 to take place in our circumstances and way 
 of life, anything that is looked on to 
 with anxiety and restlessness, anything that 
 occasions a yeasty sensation about the peri- 
 cardium, every one who is in that state 
 wishes that the stage of fermentation were 
 past, that the transition were over. 
 
 I have said that little preparation was 
 needed for a marriage which gave little em- 
 ployment to the upholsterers, less to the 
 dress-makers, and none to the lawyers. 
 Yet there was something to be done. Some 
 part of the furniture was to be furbished, 
 some to be renewed, and some to be added. 
 The house required papering and painting, 
 and would not be comfortably habitable 
 while the smell of the paint overpowered or 
 mingled with the odour of the shop. Here 
 then was a cause of unavoidable delay ; and 
 time which is necessarily employed, may be 
 said to be well employed, though it may not 
 be upon the business which we have most 
 at heart. If there be an impatient reader, 
 that is to say an unreasonable one, who 
 complains that, instead of passing rapidly 
 over this interval or parenthesis (as afore- 
 said), I proceed in such a manner with the 
 relation, that many of my chapters are as 
 parenthetical as the Euterpe of Herodotus, 
 which whole book, as the present Bishop 
 Butler used to say, is one long parenthesis, 
 and the longest that ever was written ; if, 
 I say, there be so censorious a reader, I 
 shall neither contradict him, nor defend my- 
 self, nor yet plead guilty to the fault of which 
 he accuses me. But I will te"ll him what 
 passed on a certain occasion, between Doctor, 
 afterwards Archbishop, Sharp, when he was
 
 30 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Rector of St. Giles's, and the Lord Chan- 
 cellor Jefferies. 
 
 In the year 1686, Dr. Sharp preached a 
 sermon wherein he drew some conclusions 
 against the Church of Rome, to show the 
 vanity of her pretensions in engrossing the 
 name of Catholic to herself. The sermon 
 was complained of to James II., and the 
 Lord Chancellor Jefferies was directed to 
 send for the preacher, and acquaint him 
 with the King's displeasure. Dr. Sharp 
 accordingly waited upon his Lordship with 
 the notes of his sermon, and read it over to 
 him. " Whether," says his son, " the Doctor 
 did this for his own justification, and to 
 satisfy his Lordship that he had been mis- 
 represented, or whether my Lord ordered 
 him to bring his sermon and repeat it before 
 him, is not certain ; but the latter seems 
 most probable : because Dr. Sharp after- 
 wards understood that his Lordship's design 
 in sending for him and discoursing with 
 him, was, that he might tell the King that 
 he had reprimanded the Doctor, and that 
 he was sorry for having given occasion of 
 offence to his Majesty, hoping by this means 
 to release Dr. Sharp from any further 
 trouble. However it was, his Lordship took 
 upon him, while the Doctor was reading 
 over his sermon, to chide him for several 
 passages which the Doctor thought gave no 
 occasion for chiding ; and he desired his 
 Lordship when he objected to these less 
 obnoxious passages, to be patient, for there 
 was a great deal worse yet to come." 
 
 The sermon nevertheless was a good ser- 
 mon, as temperate as it was properly timed, 
 and the circumstance was as important in 
 English history, as the anecdote is pertinent 
 in this place. For that sermon gave rise to 
 the Ecclesiastical Commission, which, in its 
 consequences, produced, within two years, 
 the Revolution. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXIV. 
 
 THE AUTHOR MORALISES UPON THE VANITY 
 OF FAME ; AND WISHES THAT HE HAD 
 BOSWEI.XISED WHILE IT WAS IN HIS POWER 
 TO HAVE DONE SO. 
 
 Mucho tengo que llorar, 
 Mucko tengo que reir. 
 
 GONGORA. 
 
 IT is a melancholy consideration that Fame 
 is as unjust as Fortune. To Fortune, in- 
 deed, injustice ought not to be imputed; for 
 Fortune is blind, and disposes of her favours 
 at random. But Fame, with all her eyes 
 and ears and tongues, overlooks more than 
 she perceives, and sees things often in a 
 wrong light, and hears and reports as many 
 falsehoods as truths. 
 
 We need not regret that the warriors who 
 lived before Agamemnon should be for- 
 gotten, for the world would have been no 
 worse if many of those who lived after him 
 had been forgotten in like manner. But 
 the wise also perish, and leave no memorial. 
 What do we know of " Ethan the Ezrahite, 
 and Heman and Chalcol, and Darda, the 
 sons of Mahol," whom it was accounted an 
 honour for Solomon to have excelled in 
 wisdom ? Where is now the krowledge for 
 which Gwalchmai ab Gwyar, and Llechau 
 ab Arthur, and Rhiwallawn Wallt Banadlen 
 were leashed in a Triad as the three Phy- 
 siologists or Philosophers of the Isle of 
 Britain; because "there was nothing of 
 which they did not know its material es- 
 sence, and its properties, whether of kind, 
 or of part, or of quality, or of compound, or 
 of coincidence, or of tendency, or of nature, 
 or of essence, whatever it might be ? " 
 Where is their knowledge ? where their 
 renown ? They are now " merely nuda 
 nomina, naked names ! " " For there is no 
 remembrance of the wise, more than of the 
 fool for ever ; seeing that which now is, in 
 the days to come shall all be forgotten ! " 
 
 If our virtues 
 Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike 
 As if we had them not.* 
 
 * SHAKESPEARE.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 307 
 
 The Seven Wise Men have left almost as 
 little as the Sybils. 
 
 " What satisfaction," says Sir John Haw- 
 kins, "does the mind receive from the 
 recital of the names of those who are said 
 to have increased the chords of the primitive 
 lyre from four to seven, Chorebus, Hyagius, 
 and Terpander ? Or when we are told that 
 Olympus invented the enarmonic genus, as 
 also the Harmatian mood? Or that Eu- 
 molpus and Melampus were excellent mu- 
 sicians, and Pronomus, Antigenides and 
 Lamia celebrated players on the flute ? In 
 all these instances, where there are no cir- 
 cumstances that constitute a character, and 
 familiarise to us the person spoken of, we 
 naturally inquire who he is, and for want of 
 farther information become indifferent as to 
 what is recorded of him." The same most 
 learned and judicious historian of his fa- 
 vourite art, laments that most of the many 
 excellent musicians who flourished in the 
 ages preceding our own are all but utterly 
 forgotten. "Of Tye," he says, "of Redford, 
 Shephard, Douland, Weelkes, Welbye, Est, 
 Bateson, Hilton and Brewer, we know little 
 more than their names. These men composed 
 volumes which are now dispersed and irre- 
 trievably lost; yet did their compositions 
 suggest those ideas of the power and efficacy 
 of music, and those descriptions of its mani- 
 fold charms, that occur in the verses of our 
 best poets." 
 
 Is there one of my Readers in a thousand 
 who knows that Philistes was a Greco-Phoe- 
 nician, or Phoenico-Grecian Queen of Malta 
 and Gozo, before the Carthaginians obtained 
 the dominion of those islands, in which their 
 language continues living, though corrupted, 
 to this day ? Are there ten men in Corn- 
 wall who know that Medacritus was the 
 name of the first man who carried tin from 
 that -part of the world? 
 
 What but his name is now known of Ro- 
 manianus, who in St. Augustin's opinion was 
 the greatest genius that ever lived ; and how 
 little is his very name known now ! What 
 is now remembered " of the men of renown 
 before the Flood?" Sir Walter Raleigh 
 hath a chapter concerning them, wherein he 
 
 says, " of the war, peace, government and 
 policy of these strong and mighty men, so 
 able both in body and wit, there is no 
 memory remaining ; whose stories if they 
 had been preserved, and what else was then 
 performed in that newness of the world, 
 there could nothing of more delight have 
 been left to posterity. For the exceeding long 
 lives of men, (who to their strength of body 
 and natural wits had the experience added of 
 eight hundred and nine hundred years,) how 
 much of necessity must the same add of 
 wisdom and understanding ? * Likely it is 
 that their works excelled all whatsoever can 
 be told of after- times; especially in respect 
 of this old age of the world, when we no 
 sooner begin to know than we begin to die : 
 according to Hippocrates, Vita brevis, ars 
 longa, tempus prceceps ; which is, Life is short, 
 art is long, and time is headlong. And that 
 those people of the first age performed many 
 things worthy of admiration, it may be 
 gathered out of these words of Moses, These 
 were mighty men, which in old time were 
 men of renown" What is known of them 
 now ? Their very names have perished ! 
 
 Who now can explain the difference be- 
 tween the Agenorian, the Eratoclean, the 
 Epigonian, and the Damouian sects of musi 
 cians, or knows anything more than the 
 names of their respective founders, except 
 that one of them was Socrates's music- 
 master ? 
 
 What Roman of the age of Horace would 
 have believed that a contemporaneous Con- 
 sul's name should only live to posterity, as a 
 record of the date of some one of the Poet's 
 odes ? 
 
 Who now remembers that memorable Mr. 
 Clinch, "whose single voice, as he had 
 learned to manage it, could admirably re- 
 present a number of persons at sport and in 
 hunting, and the very dogs and other ani- 
 mals," himself a whole pack and a whole 
 
 * The passage will be found in Book i. c. v. vii. of 
 the History of the World. The reading in the Oxford 
 Edition Is " undertakings," but Southey, it is likely, 
 preferred to write as in the text, and had authority for it. 
 He had no opinion of this edition, and once told me 
 that letters were not used which might have been, ai an 
 Appendix to the Life. 
 
 X 2
 
 308 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 field in full cry : " but none better than a 
 quire of choristers chanting an Anthem" 
 himself a whole quire. 
 
 " How subdued," says Mr. David Laing, 
 who has rescued from oblivion so much that 
 is worthy of being held in remembrance, 
 " how subdued is the interest that attaches 
 to a mere name, as for instance, to that of 
 Dunbar' s contemporaries, Stobo, Quintyne, 
 or St. John the Ross, whose works have 
 perished ! " 
 
 Who was that famous singer nick-named 
 Bonny Boots, who, because of his excellent 
 voice, or as Sir John Hawkins says, " for 
 some other reason, had permission to call 
 Queen Elizabeth his Lady : " and of whom it 
 is said in the canzonet, 
 
 Our Bonny Boots could toot it, 
 
 Yea and foot it, 
 Say, lusty lads, who now shall Bonny-Boot it ? 
 
 Sir John thinks it might "possibly be one 
 Mr. Hale." But what is Fame when it ends 
 in a poor possibility that Bonny Boots who 
 called the Queen his Lady, and that Queen, 
 not Bergami's popular Queen, but Queen 
 Elizabeth, the nation's glorious Queen Eli- 
 zabeth, the people's good Queen Bess, 
 what, I repeat, is Fame, when it ends in a 
 mere conjecture that the Bonny Boots who 
 was permitted to call such a Queen his 
 Lady, might be " one Hale or Hales in 
 whose voice she took some pleasure." Well 
 might Southey say 
 
 Fame's loudest blast upon the ear of Time 
 Leaves but a dying echo t 
 
 And what would posterity have heard of 
 my Dove, my Daniel, my Doctor, my 
 Doctor Daniel Dove, had it not been for 
 these my patient and humble labours ; 
 patient, but all too slow ; humble, if compared 
 with what the subject deserves, and yet am- 
 bitious, in contemplation of that desert, that 
 inadequate as they are, they will however 
 make the subject known ; so that my Dove, 
 my Daniel, my Doctor, shall be everybody's 
 Dove, everybody's Daniel, every-body's 
 Doctor, yea the World's Doctor, the 
 World's Doctor Daniel Dove ! 
 
 O his desert speaks loud ; and I should wrong it, 
 To lock it in the wards of covert bosom, 
 
 When it deserves with characters of br;is 
 A forted residence, 'gainst the tootn of time 
 And razure of oblivion.* 
 
 Alas that there should have been in that 
 generation but one Boswell. Why did 
 Nature break his mould ? Why did she not 
 make two ? for I would not have had 
 Johnson deprived of what may almost be 
 called his better part ; but why were there 
 not two Boswells, as there are two Dromios 
 in the Comedy of Errors, and two Mr. 
 Bulwers at this day, and three Hunchbacks 
 in the Arabian Tale. Why was there not a 
 duplicate Boswell, a fac-simile of the Laird 
 of Auchinleck, an undistinguishable twin- 
 brother, to have lived at Doncaster, and 
 have followed my Doctor, like his dog, or 
 his shadow, or St. Anthony's pig, and have 
 gathered up the fragments of his wit and his 
 wisdom, so that nothing should have been 
 lost ? Sinner that I am, that I should have 
 had so little forethought in the golden days 
 of youth and opportunity ! As Brantome 
 says when speaking of Montluc, J'etuis fort 
 souvent avec luy, et niaymoit fort, et prenoit 
 grand plaisir quand je le mettois en propos et 
 on train et luy faisois quelques demandes, 
 car je ne suis jamais este si jeune, que je 
 riaye tousjours este fort curieux d'apprendre ; 
 et luy, me voyant en cette volonte, il me re- 
 spondoit de bon cceur, et en beaux termes ; car 
 il avoit une fort belle eloquence. Truly 
 therefore may I say of thee, O my friend 
 and Master ! 
 
 S* alcun belfmtto 
 
 Nasce di me, da voi vien prima il seme, 
 lo per me son quasi un terreno ascivtto 
 Colto da voi, e 'Ipregio e vostro in iao.f 
 
 Sinner that I was ! not to have treasured 
 up all his words when I enjoyed and de- 
 lighted in his presence ; improvident wretch ! 
 that I did not faithfully record them every 
 night before I went to bed, while they were 
 yet fresh in memory ! How many things 
 would I fain recall, which are now irrecover- 
 ably lost 1 How muoh is there, that if it 
 were possible to call back the days that are 
 past, I would eagerly ask and learn ! But 
 the hand of Time is on me. Non solebat 
 
 * MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 t PETRARCH.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 309 
 
 mild tarn velox tempus videri ; nunc incredi- 
 bilis cursus apparet : sive quia admoveri 
 lineas sentio, sive quia attendere ccepi et com- 
 putare damnum meum* I linger over these 
 precious pages while I write, pausing and 
 pondering in the hope that more recollec- 
 tions may be awakened from their long 
 sleep ; that one may jog and stir up another. 
 By thus rummaging in the stores of memory 
 many things which had long been buried 
 there have been brought to light; but O 
 reader ! how little is this all to what it 
 might have been ! It is but as a poor arm- 
 ful of gleanings compared to a waggon well 
 piled with full sheaves, carrying the harvest 
 home. 
 
 Here too I may apply with the alteration of 
 only one word what that good man Gotthilf 
 Franck says in his Preface to the History of 
 the Danish Mission in India, as translated 
 into Latin from Niecamp's German Work. 
 Quamquam vero huic cequo desiderio gratifi- 
 candi animum tanto promptiorem gessimus, 
 quanta plus ad illustrationem nominis dilecti ex 
 tali compendia redundaturum esse perspeximus, 
 multa tamen impedimenta in dies subnata sunt^ 
 quo minus res in effectum dari potuerit. Si- 
 quidem ad ejusmodi epitomen accurate conscri- 
 bendum et res prascipuas breviter complectendas 
 non sofum multum temporis,putienti(B etlaboris, 
 sed singularis etiam epitomatoris IKCIVOTTIG et 
 dexteritas requiritur. 
 
 The Doctor himself was careless of Fame. 
 As he did nothing to be seen of men, so he 
 took no thought for anything through which 
 he might be remembered by them. It was 
 enough for him if his jests, and whims, and 
 fancies, and speculations, whether sportive or 
 serious, pleased himself, brought a smile to 
 his wife's lips and a dimple to her cheek, or 
 a good-humoured frown, which was hardly 
 less agreeable, to her brow; it was enough 
 for him if they amused or astonished those 
 to whom they were addressed. Something 
 he had for every one within the sphere of 
 his little rounds ; a quip for this person and 
 a crank for that; "nods and becks and 
 wreathed smiles " for those who were in the 
 
 * SENECA. 
 
 May-day of youth, or the hey-day of hilarity 
 and welfare ; a moral saying in its place and 
 a grave word in season ; wise counsel kindly 
 given for those who needed it, and kind 
 words for all, with which kind actions 
 always kept pace, instead of limping slowly 
 and ungraciously behind. But of the world 
 beyond that circle, he thought as little as 
 that world thought of him ; nor had he 
 the slightest wish for its applause. The 
 passion which has been called "the last 
 infirmity of noble minds" had no place in 
 his ; for he was a man in quo, as Erasmus 
 says of his Tutor Hegius, unum illud vel 
 Momus ipse calumniari fortasse potuisset, 
 quod famce plus cequo negligens, nullam poste- 
 ritatis haberet rationem. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXV. 
 
 FAME IN THE BOROUGH BOAD. THE AUTHOB 
 DANIELISES. 
 
 Due, Fama, 
 
 Due me insolfnti tramite s devius 
 Tentabo inaccessos profanis 
 Invidite pedibus recessus. 
 
 VINCENT BOURNS. 
 
 GUESS, Reader, where I once saw a full- 
 sized figure of Fame, erect, tip-toe, iii the 
 act of springing to take flight and soar 
 aloft, her neck extended, her head raised, 
 the trumpet at her lips, and her cheeks in- 
 flated, as if about to send forth a blast which 
 the whole city of London was to hear? 
 Perhaps thou mayest have seen this very 
 figure thyself, and surely if thou hast, thou 
 wilt not have forgotten it. It was in the 
 Borough Road, placed above a shop-board 
 which announced that Mr. Somebody fitted 
 up Water-Closets upon a new and improved 
 principle. 
 
 But it would be well for mankind if Fame 
 were never employed in trumpeting any- 
 thing worse. There is a certain stage of 
 depravity, in which men derive an unnatu- 
 ral satisfaction from the notoriety of their 
 wickedness, and seek for celebrity ob mag- 
 nitudinem i?ifamice, cujus apud prodigos novis-
 
 310 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 sima voluptas est. * Us veident fuire par- 
 ler d"eux, says Bayle, et lew vanite ne seroit 
 pas satisfaite s'zY n'y avoit quclque chose de 
 superlatif et d 'eminent dans leur mauvaise 
 reputation. Le plus haul degre de Finfamie 
 est le but de lews souhaits, et il y a des chases 
 qu'ils ne feroient pas si elles ri etoient extraor" 
 dinairement odieuses. 
 
 Plutarch has preserved the name of Chaere- 
 phanes, who was notorious among the an- 
 cients for having painted such subjects as 
 Julio Romano has the everlasting infamy of 
 having designed for the flagitious Aretine. 
 He has also transmitted to posterity the 
 name of Parmeno, famous for grunting like 
 a pig, and of Theodorus, not less famous 
 for the more difficult accomplishment of 
 mimicking the sound of a creaking cart- 
 wheel. Who would wish to have his name 
 preserved for his beggarliness, like Pauson 
 the painter, and Codrus the poet ? Or for 
 his rascality and wickedness like Phrynon- 
 das? Or like Callianax the physician for 
 callous brutality ? Our Doctor used to in- 
 stance these examples when he talked of 
 " the bubble reputation," which is sometimes 
 to be had so cheaply, and yet for which so 
 dear a price has often been paid in vain. It 
 amused him to think by what odd or piti- 
 ful accidents that bubble might be raised. 
 " Whether the regular practitioner may 
 sneer at Mr. Ching," says the Historian of 
 Cornwall, " I know not ; but the Patent 
 Worm-Lozenges have gained our Launceston 
 Apothecary a large fortune, and secured to 
 him perpetual fame." 
 
 Would not John Dory's name have died 
 with him, and so been long ago dead as a 
 door-nail, if a grotesque likeness for him had 
 not been discovered in the Fish, which being 
 called after him has immortalised him and 
 his ugliness? But if John Dory could 
 have anticipated this sort of immortality 
 when he saw his own face in the glass, he 
 might very well have " blushed to find it 
 fame." There would have been no other 
 memorial of Richard Jaquett at this day, 
 than the letters of his name in an old dead 
 
 TACITUS. 
 
 and obsolete hand, now well nigh rendered 
 illegible by time, if he had not in the reign 
 of Edward VI. been Lord of the Manor of 
 Tyburn with its appurtenances, wherein the 
 gallows was included, wherefore, from the 
 said Jaquett it is presumed by antiquaries 
 that the hangman hath been ever since 
 corruptly called Jack Ketch. A certain 
 William Dowsing, who during the Great 
 Rebellion was one of the Parliamentary 
 Visitors for demolishing superstitious pic- 
 tures and ornaments of Churches, is supposed 
 by a learned critic to have given rise to an 
 expression in common use among school- 
 boys and blackguards. For this worshipful 
 Commissioner broke so many " mighty great 
 Angels " in glass, knocked so many Apostles 
 and Cherubims to pieces, demolished so 
 many pictures and stone-crosses, and boasted 
 with such puritanical rancour of what he 
 had done, that it is conjectured the threat 
 of giving any one a dowsing preserves his 
 rascally name. So too while Bracton and 
 Fleta rest on the shelves of some public 
 Library, Nokes and Stiles are living names 
 in the Courts of Law : and for John Doe 
 and Richard Roe, were there ever two liti- 
 gious fellows so universally known as these 
 eternal antagonists ? 
 
 Johnson tells a story of a man who was 
 standing in an inn kitchen with his back to 
 the fire, and thus accosted a traveller who 
 stood next to him, " Do you know, Sir, who 
 I am ? " " No, Sir," replied the traveller 
 " I have not that advantage." " Sir," said 
 the man, " I am the great Twalmley who 
 invented the new Flood-gate Iron." Who 
 but for Johnson would have heard of the 
 great Twalmley now ? Reader, I will answer 
 the question which thou hast already asked, 
 and tell thee that his invention consisted 
 in applying a sliding door, like a flood-gate, 
 to an ironing-box, flat-irons having till 
 then been used, or box-irons with a door 
 and bolt. 
 
 Wfto was Tom Long the Carrier ? when 
 did he flourish ? what road did he travel ? 
 did he drive carts, or waggons, or was it in 
 the age of pack-horses ? Who was Jack 
 Robinson ? not the once well-known Jack
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 311 
 
 llobinson of the Treasury, (for his celebrity 
 is now like a tale that is told,) but the one 
 whose name is in every body's mouth, be- 
 cause it is so easily and so soon said. Who 
 was Magg ? and what was his diversion ? 
 was it brutal, or merely boorish ? the bois- 
 terous exuberance of rude and unruly mirth 
 or the gratification of a tyrannical temper 
 and a cruel disposition ? Who was Crop 
 the Conjuror, famous in trivial speech, as 
 Merlin in romantic lore, or Doctor Faustus 
 in the school of German extravagance ? 
 What is remembered now of Bully Dawson? 
 all I have read of him is, that he lived three 
 weeks on the credit of a brass shilling be- 
 cause nobody would take it of him. "There 
 goes a story of Queen Elizabeth," says Ray, 
 "that being presented with a Collection of 
 English Proverbs, and told by the Author 
 that it contained them all, 'Nay,' replied 
 she, ' Bate me an ace, quoth Bolton ! ' which 
 proverb being instantly looked for, happened 
 to be wanting in his collection." " Who 
 this Bolton was," Ray says, " I know not, 
 neither is it worth inquiring." Neverthe- 
 less I ask who was Bolton ? and when Echo 
 answers " who f " say in my heart Vanitas 
 Vanitatum, omnia Vanitas. And having said 
 this, conscience smites me with the recollec- 
 tion of what Pascal has said, Ceux qui ecri- 
 vent contre la gloire, veulent avoir la gloire 
 cT avoir bien ecrit ; et ceux qui le lisent, voulent 
 avoir la gloire de I 'avoir lu ; et moi qui ecris 
 ceciy fai pcut-ctre cette envie, et peut-etre 
 que ceux qui le liront, Fauront aussi. 
 
 Who was old Ross of Pottern, who lived 
 till all the world was weary of him ? All the 
 world has forgotten him now. Who was 
 Jack Raker, once so well known that he 
 was named proverbially as a scapegrace by 
 Skelton, and in the Ralph Roister Doister 
 of Nicholas Udall, that Udall, who on 
 poor Tom Tusser's account, ought always to 
 be called the bloody schoolmaster? Who 
 was William Dickins, whose wooden dishes 
 were sold so badly, that when' any one lost 
 by the sale of his wares, the said Dickins 
 and his dishes were brought up in scornful 
 comparison ? Out-roaring Dick was a stroll- 
 ing singer of such repute that he got twenty 
 
 shillings a day by singing at Braintree 
 Fair : but who was that Desperate Dick 
 that was such a terrible cutter at a chine of 
 beef, and devoured more meat at ordinaries 
 in discoursing of his frays and deep acting 
 of his flashing and hewing, than would serve 
 half a dozen brewers' draymen ? It is at 
 this day doubtful whether it was Jack Drum 
 or Tom Drum, whose mode of entertain- 
 ment no one wishes to receive ; for it was 
 to haul a man in by the head and thrust 
 him out by the neck and shoulders. Who 
 was that other Dick who wore so queer a 
 hat-band that it has ever since served as a 
 standing comparison for all queer things ? 
 By what name besides Richard was he 
 known ? Where did he live and when ? 
 His birth, parentage, education, life, cha- 
 racter and behaviour, who can tell ? " No- 
 thing," said the Doctor, " is remembered of 
 him now, except that he was familiarly called 
 Dick, and that his queer hat-band went 
 nine times round and would not tie." 
 
 O vain World's glory, and unstedfast state 
 Of all that lives on face of siul'ul earth 1 * 
 
 Who was Betty Martin, and wherefore 
 should she so often be mentioned in connex- 
 ion with my precious eye or your's ? Who 
 was Ludlam, whose dog was so lazy that he 
 leant his head against a wall to bark ? And 
 who was Old Cole whose dog was so proud 
 that he took the wall of a dung-cart and got 
 squeezed to death by the wheel ? Was he 
 the same person of whom the song says, 
 
 Old King Cole 
 Was a merry old soul, 
 And a merry old soul was he ? 
 
 -And was his dog proud because his master 
 was called King ? Here are questions to 
 be proposed in the Examination papers of 
 some Australian Cambridge, two thousand 
 years hence, when the people of that part of 
 the world shall be as reasonably inquisitive 
 concerning our affairs, as we are now con- 
 cerning those of the Greeks. But the 
 Burneys, the Parrs and the Persons, the 
 Ehnsleys, Monks and Blomfields of that 
 
 SPENSER.
 
 312 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 age, will puzzle over them in vain, for we 
 cannot answer them now. * 
 
 " Who was the Vicar of Bray ? I have had 
 a long chase after him," said Mr. Brome to 
 Mr. Rawlins, in 1735. " Simon Aleyn, or 
 Allen, was his name ; he was Vicar of Bray 
 about 1540, and died in 1588 ; so he held 
 the living near fifty years. You now par- 
 take of the sport that has cost me some 
 pains to take. And if the pursuit after such 
 game seems mean, one Mr. Vernon followed 
 a butterfly nine miles before he could catch 
 him." Reader, do not refuse your belief of 
 this fact, when I can state to you on my 
 own recollection that the late Dr. Shaw, the 
 celebrated Naturalist, a librarian of the 
 British Museum and known by the name of 
 the learned Shavius, from the facility and 
 abundance of his Latin compositions, pointed 
 out to my notice there many years ago two 
 volumes written by a Dutchman upon the 
 wings of a butterfly. " The dissertation is 
 rather voluminous, Sir, perhaps you will 
 think," said the Doctor, with somewhat of 
 that apologetic air, which modest science is 
 wont occasionally to assume in her commu- 
 nications witn ignorance, " but it is im- 
 mensely imj ortant." f Good-natured, excel- 
 lent enthusiast ! fully didst thou appreciate 
 the Book, the Dutchman, and above all the 
 Butterfly. 
 
 " I have known a great man," says Taylor 
 the Water-Poet, " very expert on the Jews'- 
 harp ; a rich heir excellent at Noddy ; a 
 Justice of the Peace skilful at Quoytes ; a 
 Merchant's Wife a quick gamester at Irish, 
 especially when she came to bearing of men, 
 that she would seldom miss entering." In- 
 jurious John Taylor ! thus to defraud thy 
 friends of their fame, and leave in irremedi- 
 able oblivion the proper name of that expert 
 Jews' -Harper, that person excellent at 
 Noddy, that great Quoytes-man, and that 
 
 * On Elmsley's putting forth his edition of the CEdipus 
 Coloneus, gome one asked him how it came about that he 
 left so much unexplained? "How should it be other- 
 wise," said he, ' when we are unable to explain our own 
 Shakespeare ? " 
 
 t This anecdote wag inserted by the late Grosvenor 
 Bedford, Southey's old and tried friend. 
 
 Mistress who played so masterly a game at 
 Irish! But I thank thee for this, good 
 John the Water-Poet ; thou hast told us 
 that Monsieur La Ferr, a Frenchman, was 
 the first inventor of the admirable game of 
 Double-hand, Hot Cockles, &c., and that 
 Gregory Dawson, an Englishman, devised 
 the unmatchable mystery of Blind-man's- 
 buff. But who can tell me what the game 
 of Carps was, the Ludus Carparum, which 
 Hearne says was used in Oxford much, and 
 being joined with cards, and reckoned as a 
 kind of alea, is prohibited in some statutes ? 
 When Thomas Hearne, who learned what- 
 ever Time forgot, was uncertain what game 
 or play it really was, and could only con- 
 jecture that perhaps it might be a sort of 
 Back -gammon, what antiquary can hope to 
 ascertain it ? 
 
 "Elizabeth Canning, Mary Squires the 
 Gipsey, and Miss Blandy," says one who 
 remembered their days of celebrity, " were 
 such universal topics in 1752, that you 
 would have supposed it the business of 
 mankind to talk only of them ; yet now, in 
 1790, ask a young man of twenty-five or 
 thirty a question relative to these extra- 
 ordinary personages, and he will be puzzled 
 to answer." 
 
 Who now knows the steps of that dance, 
 or has heard the name of its author, of which 
 in our fathers' days it was said in verse, that 
 
 Isaac's rigadoon shall live as long 
 As Rafael's painting, or as Virgil's song. 
 
 Nay, who reads the poem wherein those 
 lines are found, though the author predicted 
 for them in self-applauding pleasantry, that 
 
 Whilst birds in air, or fish in streams we find, 
 - Or damsels fresh with aged partners join'd, 
 As long as nymphs shall with attentive ear 
 A fiddle rather than a sermon hear, 
 So long the brightest eyes shall oft peruse 
 These useful lines of my instructive muse. 
 
 Even of the most useful of those lines, the 
 " uses are gone by." Ladies before they 
 leave the ball-room are now no longer 
 fortified against the sudden change of tem- 
 perature by a cup of generous white wine 
 mulled with ginger ; nor is it necessary now 
 to caution them at such times against a
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 313 
 
 draught of cold small beer, because, as the 
 Poet in his own experience assured them, 
 
 Destruction lurks within the poisonous dose, 
 A fatal fever, or a pimpled nose.* 
 
 CHAPTER CXXVL 
 
 MR. BAXTER'S OFFICES. MILLER'S CHARACTER 
 OF MASON ; WITH A FEW REMARKS IN 
 VINDICATION OF CRAY'S FRIEND AND THE 
 DOCTOR'S ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 Te sonare gvis mihi 
 
 Genigue vim dabit tuif 
 Stylo quis tequor hocce arare charteum, 
 
 En arva per papyrina 
 Satu loquace seminare Uterus f 
 
 JANUS Doug A. 
 
 THAT dwelling house which the reader may 
 find represented in Miller's History of Don- 
 caster, as it was in his time, and in the 
 Doctor's, and in mine, that house in which 
 the paper-hangers and painters were em- 
 ployed during the parenthesis, or to use a 
 more historical term, the Interim of this 
 part of our history, that house which 
 when, after an interval of many years, I saw 
 it last, had the name R. Deunison on the 
 door, is now, the Sheffield Mercury tells me, 
 occupied as Mr. Baxter's Offices. I mean 
 no disrespect to Mr. R. Dennison. I mean 
 no disrespect to Mr. Baxter. I know nothing 
 of these gentlemen, except that in 1830 the 
 one had his dwelling there, and in 1836 the 
 other his offices. But for the house itself, 
 which can now be ascertained only by its 
 site, totally altered as it is in structure and 
 appearance, without and within, when I 
 think of it I cannot but exclaim, in what 
 Wordsworth would call "that inward voice" 
 with which we speak to ourselves in solitude, 
 " If thou be'est it," with reference to that 
 alteration, and with reference to its change 
 of tenants and present appropriation, I 
 cannot but carry on the verse, and say 
 " but oh how fallen, how changed !" 
 
 In that house Peter Hopkins had enter- 
 tained his old friend Guy ; and the elder 
 
 SOAME JENYNS. 
 
 Daniel once, upon an often pressed and 
 special invitation, had taken the longest 
 journey he ever performed in his life, to 
 pass a week there. For many years Mr. 
 Allison and Mr. Bacon made it their house 
 of call whenever they went to Doncaster. 
 In that house Miller introduced Herschel to 
 Dr. Dove; and Mason, when he was Mr. 
 Copley's guest, never failed to call there, and 
 inquire of the Doctor what books he had 
 added to his stores, for to have an oppor- 
 tunity of conversing with him was one of 
 the pleasures which Mason looked for in his 
 visits at Netherhall. 
 
 Miller disliked Mason : described him as 
 sullen, reserved, capricious and unamiable ; 
 and this which he declared to be " the real 
 character of this celebrated poet," he inserted, 
 he said, " as a lesson to mankind, to show 
 them what little judgment can be formed of 
 the heart of an author, either by the sub- 
 limity of his conceptions, the beauty of his 
 descriptions, or the purity of his sentiments." 
 
 Often as Miller was in company with 
 Mason, there are conclusive proofs that the 
 knowledge which he attained of Mason's 
 character was as superficial as the poet's 
 knowledge of music, for which, as has here- 
 tofore been intimated, the Organist regarded 
 him with some contempt. 
 
 He says that the reason which Mason as- 
 signed for making an offer to the lady whom 
 he married, was, that he had been a whole 
 evening in her company with others, and ob- 
 served, that during all that time she never 
 spoke a single word. Mason is very likely 
 to have said this ; but the person who could 
 suppose that he said it in strict and serious 
 sincerity, meaning that it should be believed 
 to the letter, must have been quite in- 
 capable of appreciating the character of the 
 speaker. 
 
 Mason whom Gray described, a little 
 before this offer, as repining at his four-and- 
 twenty weeks' residence at York, and long- 
 ing for the flesh-pots and coffee-houses of 
 Cambridge, was notwithstanding in his friend 
 and fellow-poet's phrase, a long while mari- 
 turient, " and praying to heaven to give him 
 a good and gentle governess." " No man,"
 
 314 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 says Gray, " wants such a thing more in all 
 senses ; but his greatest wants do not make 
 him move a foot faster, nor has he, properly 
 speaking, anything one can call a passion 
 about him, except a little malice and re- 
 venge." Elsewhere he speaks of Mason's 
 "insatiable repining mouth." Yet there 
 was no malice in these expressions. Gray 
 loved him, taking him for all in all, and to 
 have been the friend of Gray will always be 
 considered as evidence of no ordinary worth ; 
 for it is not on intellect alone that the 
 friendship of so good and wise a man as 
 Gray could be founded. 
 
 When Gray first became acquainted with 
 Mason he wrote concerning him thus. " He 
 has much fancy, little judgment, and a good 
 deal of modesty. I take him for a good and 
 well-meaning creature ; but then he is really 
 in simplicity a child, and loves everybody 
 he meets with : he reads little or nothing, 
 writes abundance, and that with a design to 
 make his fortune by it." In another letter 
 " Mason grows apace in my good graces ; he 
 is very ingenious, with great good-nature 
 and simplicity ; a little vain, but in so harm- 
 less and so comical a way that it does not 
 offend one at all ; a little ambitious, but 
 withal so ignorant in the world and its ways, 
 that this does not hurt him in one's opinion. 
 So sincere and so undisguised, that no mind 
 with a spark of generosity would ever think 
 of hurting him, he lies so open to injury ; 
 but so indolent that if he cannot overcome 
 this habit, all his good qualities will signify 
 nothing at all." 
 
 This surely is the character of an amiable 
 and very likeable man. Mason said when 
 he printed it, " my friends, I am sure, will be 
 much amused at this ; my enemies (if they 
 please) may sneer at it, and say (which they 
 will very truly) that twenty-five years have 
 made a very considerable abatement in my 
 general philanthropy. Men of the world 
 will not blame me for writing from so 
 prudent a motive, as that of making my 
 fortune by it ; and yet the truth, I believe, 
 at the time was, that I was perfectly well 
 satisfied if my publications furnished me with 
 a few guineas to see a Play, or an Opera." 
 
 During the short time that his wife lived 
 after his marriage, Miller observed that he 
 appeared more animated and agreeable in 
 his conversation, that is to say, he was 
 cheerful because he was happy. After her 
 death (and who has ever perused her epitaph 
 without emotion ?) he relapsed into a dis- 
 contented habit of mind, as might be ex- 
 pected from one who had remained un- 
 married too long, and who, although he 
 might be said in the worldly sense of the 
 word to have been a fortunate man, was 
 never, except during the short duration of 
 his marriage, a happy one. He had no near 
 relations, none to whom he was in any 
 degree attached ; and in Gray he lost the 
 most intimate of his friends, probably the 
 only one towards whom he ever felt any- 
 thing approaching to a warmth of friendship. 
 This produced a most uncomfortable effect 
 upon him in the decline of life ; for knowing 
 that he was looked upon as one who had 
 wealth to leave for which there were no near 
 or natural claimants, he suspected that any 
 marks of attention which were shown him, 
 whether from kindness or from respect, 
 proceeded from selfish views. That in many 
 cases such suspicions may be well-founded, 
 any one who knows what the world is will 
 readily believe ; and if they made him 
 capricious, and rendered him liable to be 
 accused of injustice and want of feeling, 
 the effect is not so extraordinary as it is 
 pitiable. It is one of the evils attendant 
 upon the possession of riches where there is 
 no certain heir ; it is part of the punishment 
 which those persons bring upon themselves 
 who accumulate unnecessary wealth, without 
 any just or definite object.* 
 
 But Mason is chargeable with no such 
 sin. When a young man he made a resolu- 
 tion that if he came into possession of an 
 estate which was entailed upon him, he would 
 accept of no additional preferment; and he 
 adhered to that resolution, though many offers 
 were made to him which might have induced 
 
 * How applicable is this to the history of the late Dr. 
 Bell 1 Pity 'tis he did not apply his riches, as he told 
 Southcy he would, to the increase of poor livings. What 
 came from the church might well have been returned.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 315 
 
 % worldly man to depart from it. The first 
 thing he did after the inheritance fell to 
 him was to resign his King's Chaplainship : 
 " a priest in that situation," he said, " could 
 not help looking forward to a bishoprick, a 
 species of ambition incompatible with the 
 simplicity and purity of the Christian cha- 
 racter, for, the moment a man aspires to the 
 purple, that moment virtue goes out of him." 
 Mr. Greville, who, after a visit to Mason, 
 related this in a letter to his friend Polwhele, 
 was informed that his income was about 
 .1500 a-year, and that of this one-third 
 was appropriated to patronage and charity. 
 
 He had made another resolution, which 
 was not kept, because it was not reason- 
 able. When the Earl of Holdernesse offered 
 him the Rectory of Aston, he was not in 
 orders, and he called upon Warburton to 
 ask his advice. " I found him," says War- 
 burton, " yet unresolved whether he should 
 take the Living. I said, was the question 
 about a mere secular employment, I should 
 blame him without reserve if he refused 
 the offer. But. as I regarded going into 
 orders in another light, I frankly owned to 
 him he ought not to go, unless he had a 
 call : by which I meant, I told him, nothing 
 fanatical or superstitious ; but an inclina- 
 tion, and, on that, a resolution, to dedicate 
 all his studies to the service of religion, and 
 totally to abandon his poetry. This sacri- 
 fice, I said, I thought was required at any 
 time, but more indispensably so in this, 
 when we are fighting with infidelity pro 
 aris et focis. This was what I said ; and I 
 will do him the justice to say, that he en- 
 tirely agreed with me in thinking that de- 
 cency, reputation, and religion, all required 
 this sacrifice of him ; and, that if he went 
 into orders, he intended to give it." " How 
 much shall I honour him," says Warburton 
 in another letter, " if he performs his pro- 
 mise to me of putting away those idle 
 baggages after his sacred espousals ! " This 
 unwise promise explains Mason's long si- 
 lence as a poet, and may partly account for 
 his uncomfortable state of mind as long as 
 he considered himself bound by it. 
 
 There were other circumstances about 
 
 him which were unfavourable to happiness ; 
 he seems never to have been of a cheerful, 
 because never of a hopeful temper, other- 
 wise Gray would not have spoken of his 
 "insatiable repining mouth," the lively 
 expression of one who clearly perceived his 
 constitutional faults, and yet loved him as 
 he deserved to be loved, in spite of them. 
 The degree of malice also, which Gray noticed 
 as the strongest passion in his nature, is 
 to be reckoned among those circumstances. 
 By far the most popular of his compositions 
 were those well-known satires which he never 
 owned, and which professional critics, with 
 their usual lack of acumen, pronounced not 
 to be his because of their sarcastic humour 
 and the strength of their language. He 
 had a great deal of that sarcastic humour, 
 and this it was which Gray called malice ; 
 in truth it partakes of maliciousness, and a 
 man is the worse for indulging it, if he ever 
 allows himself to give it a personal direc- 
 tion, except in cases where strong provoca- 
 tion may warrant and strict justice require 
 it. That these satires were written by Mason 
 will appear upon the most indisputable proof 
 whenever his letters shall be published ; and 
 it is earnestly hoped those letters may not 
 be allowed to perish, for in them and in 
 them only will the character of the writer 
 appear in its natural lights and shades. 
 
 Mason would not (especially after their 
 signal success} have refrained from acknow- 
 
 o -^ 
 
 ledging these satires, which are the most 
 vigorous of his compositions, unless he had 
 been conscious that the turn of mind they 
 indicated was not that which ought to be 
 found in a member of his profession. And 
 it can only have been the same feeling which 
 induced the Editor to withhold them from 
 the only collective edition of his works. 
 That edition was delayed till fourteen years 
 after his death, and then appeared without 
 any memoir of the author, or any the slight- 
 est prefatory mark of respect : it seems, 
 therefore, that he had left none by whom his 
 memory was cherished. But though this 
 may have been in some degree his fault 
 it was probably in a far greater degree hia 
 misfortune.
 
 310 
 
 THE DOCTOK. 
 
 Mason had obtained preferment for his 
 literary deserts, and in such just measure 
 as to satisfy himself, and those also who 
 would wish that ecclesiastical preferment 
 were always so properly bestowed. But he 
 was not satisfied with his literary fame. 
 Others passed him upon the stream of popu- 
 larity with all their sails set, full speed before 
 the wind, while he lay quietly upon his oars 
 in a pleasant creek ; and he did not suffi- 
 ciently bear in mind that he was safe at 
 his ease, when some of those who so trium- 
 phantly left him behind were upset and went 
 to the bottom. He had done enough to 
 secure for himself a respectable place among 
 the poets of his country, and a distinguished 
 one among those of his age. But more 
 through indolence than from any deficiency 
 or decay of power, he had fallen short of 
 the promise of his youth, and of his own 
 early aspirations. Discontent, especially 
 when mingled with self-reproach, is an un- 
 easy feeling, and like many others he appears 
 to have sought relief by projecting it, and 
 transferring as much of it as he could upon 
 the world. He became an acrimonious whig, 
 and took an active part in the factious mea- 
 sures by which Yorkshire was agitated about 
 the close of the American war. Gray, if 
 he had been then living, might perhaps have 
 been able to have rendered him more tem- 
 perate and more reasonable in his political 
 views ; certainly he would have prevailed 
 upon him not to write, or having written 
 not to publish or preserve, the last book of 
 his English Garden, which is in every re- 
 spect miserably bad ; bad in taste as recom- 
 mending sham castles and modern ruins ; 
 bad in morals, as endeavouring to serve a 
 political cause and excite indignation against 
 the measures of Government by a fictitious 
 story, (which if it had been true could have 
 had no bearing whatever upon the justice 
 or injustice of the American war ;) and bad 
 in poetry, because the story is in itself 
 absurd. Not the least absurd part of this 
 puerile tale is the sudden death of the heroine, 
 at the unexpected sight of her betrothed 
 husband, whom she was neither glad nor 
 sorry to see ; and the description of the 
 
 fades Hippocratica is applied to this person, 
 thus dying in health, youth, and beauty ! 
 Dr. Dove used to instance this as a re- 
 markable example of knowledge ignorantly 
 misapplied. 
 
 Yet though the Doctor did not rank him 
 higher as a physiologist than Miller did as a 
 musician, or than Sir Joshua must have 
 done as a painter, he found more pleasure 
 than the organist could do in his conversa- 
 tion ; partly because there was an air of 
 patronage in Mason's intercourse with Miller 
 at first, and afterwards an air of estrange- 
 ment, (a sufficient reason) ; and partly be- 
 cause Mason was more capable of enjoying 
 the richness of the Doctor's mind, and such 
 of its eccentricities as were allowed to 
 appear in company where he was not wholly 
 without reserve, than he -was of appreciating 
 the simplicity of Miller's. That vein of 
 humour which he indulged in his corre- 
 spondence opened when he was conversing 
 with one, like the Doctor, upon whom 
 nothing was lost ; at such times the heavy 
 saturnine character of Mason's countenance, 
 which might almost be called morose, seemed 
 to be cast off ; and pleasantry and good- 
 nature animated its intellectual strength. 
 But according to Polwhele's friend, there 
 was a " sedate benignity in his countenance, 
 which taught me," says Mr. Greville, " in- 
 stantaneously to rely on him as a man the 
 leading traits of whose disposition were 
 feeling and reflection. This immediate im- 
 pression of his character I found afterwards 
 to be strictly just. I never yet met with a 
 human being whose head and heart appear 
 to act and react so reciprocally, so con- 
 cordantly upon each other as his. In his 
 style of conversation, you can trace nothing 
 of the vis vivida of the poet. Here his 
 inventive powers apparently lie dormant. 
 Those flashes of genius, those intellectual 
 emanations which we are taught to believe 
 great men cannot help darting forward in 
 order to lighten up the gloom of colloquial 
 communication, he seems to consider as 
 affected; he therefore rejects them when- 
 ever they occur, and appears to pride him- 
 self on the preference which he gives to
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 317 
 
 simplicity and perspicuity. Conversation, 
 (if you will excuse a pedantic allusion,) 
 with him resembles the style of painting 
 mentioned in the earlier part of the Athe- 
 nian History, which consisted in represent- 
 ing the artist's ideas in a simple unaffected 
 point of view, through the medium of one 
 colour only ; whereas his writings are like 
 the pictures of Polygnotus. They glow 
 with all the warmth of an invigorated ima- 
 gination, an animated diction, and a rich 
 luxuriant phraseology. 
 
 " His manners, too, are equally as chaste 
 and unaffected as his conversation. The 
 stream that winds its easy way through 
 woods and verdant meads, is not less artificial 
 or more insinuating than he is in doing the 
 honours of the table, or promoting the 
 graces of the drawing-room. That peculiar 
 happiness which some few I have met with 
 possess, of reconciling you implicitly to their 
 superiority, he enjoys in an eminent degree, 
 by the amiability of his sentiments, the 
 benignity of his attention, and particularly 
 by an indescribable way with him, of making 
 you appear to advantage, even when he 
 convinces you of the erroneousness of your 
 opinions, or the inconclusiveness of your 
 reasoning. 
 
 " In regard to his morals, I believe from 
 what I have collected, that few can look 
 back upon a period of sixty years' existence, 
 spent so uniformly pure and correct. In 
 the course of our chit-chat, he informed me, 
 in an unostentatious unaffected manner, 
 that he never was intoxicated but once." 
 
 There was another point of resemblance, 
 besides their vein of humour, between Mason 
 and the Doctor, in their latter days; they 
 were nearly of the same age, and time had 
 brought with it to both the same sober, 
 contemplative, deep feeling of the realities 
 of religion. 
 
 The French Revolution cured Mason of 
 his whiggery, and he had the manliness to 
 sing his palinode. The fearful prevalence 
 of a false and impious philosophy made him 
 more and more sensible of the inestimable 
 importance of his faith. On his three last 
 birth-days he composed three sonnets, which 
 
 for their sentiment and their beauty ought 
 to be inserted in every volume of select 
 poems for popular use. And he left for 
 posthumous publication a poem called RELI- 
 GIO CLERICI ; as a whole it is very inferior to 
 that spirited satire of Smedley's which bears 
 the same title, and which is the best satire 
 of its age ; but its concluding paragraph will 
 leave the reader with a just and very favour- 
 able impression of the poet and the man. 
 
 FATHER, REDEEMER, COMFORTER DIVINE 1 
 
 This humble offering to thy equal shrine 
 
 Here thy unworthy servant grateful pays, 
 
 Of undivided thanks, united praise. 
 
 For all those mercies which at birth began, 
 
 And ceaseless flow'd thro' life's long-lengthened span, 
 
 Fropt my frail frame thro' all the varied scene, 
 
 With health enough for many a day serene ; 
 
 Enough of science clearly to discern 
 
 How few important truths the wisest learn ; 
 
 Enough of arts ingenuous to employ 
 
 The vacant hours, when graver studies cloy; 
 
 Enough of wealth to serve each honest end, 
 
 The poor to succour, or assist a friend ; 
 
 Enough of faith in Scripture to descry, 
 
 That the sure hope of immortality, 
 
 Which only can the fear of death remove. 
 
 Flows from the fountain of REDEEMING LOVE. 
 
 One who visited York a few years after 
 the death of the Poet, says, " the Verger 
 who showed us the Minster upon my in- 
 quiring of him concerning Mason, began an 
 encomium upon him in an humble way 
 indeed, but more honourable than all the 
 factitious praises of learned ostentation ; his 
 countenance brightened up when I asked 
 him the question ; his very looks told me 
 that Mason's charities did not evaporate in 
 effusions of sensibility ; I learned that he 
 was humble, mild, and generous ; the father 
 of his family ; the delight of all that came 
 within the sphere of his notice. Then he 
 was so good in his parish. My soul con- 
 templates, with fond exultation, the picture 
 of a man, endowed with genius, wit and 
 every talent to please the great, but sua se 
 virtute involventem, resigning himself with 
 complacency to the humble duties of a 
 country pastor, turning select Psalms into 
 Verse to be sung in his Church ; simplifying 
 and arranging, and directing to the purposes 
 of devotion his church music ; and per- 
 forming his duties as a minister with meek- 
 ness, perseverance, and brotherly love."
 
 318 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Enough has now been adduced to vin- 
 dicate Mason's character from Miller's 
 aspersion. They who desire to see his merits 
 as a poet appreciated with great ability and 
 equal justice should peruse his life in 
 Hartley Coleridge's Boreal Biography, 
 what a boisterous title for a book in which 
 there is not one blustering sentence, and 
 so many sweet strains of feeling and of 
 thought ! 
 
 CHAPTER CXXVII. 
 
 THE DOCTOR'S THEORY OF PROGRESSIVE 
 EXISTENCE. 
 
 Qttam multts pecudes humano in carport vivunt ! 
 
 PALING ENIDS. 
 
 LIKE Mason, Dr. Dove looked to the future 
 in that sure and certain hope without which 
 the present would be intolerable to a think- 
 ing mind and feeling heart. But in his spe- 
 culations he looked to the past also. 
 
 Watson Bishop of Llandaff amused him- 
 self with asking from whom his mind de- 
 scended? where it existed before he was 
 born ? and who he should have been if he 
 had not been Richard Watson? "The 
 Bishop was a philosopher," says Dr. Jarrold, 
 "and ought not to have asked such idle 
 questions." 
 
 My Doctor would not have agreed with 
 Dr. Jarrold in this opinion. Who the Bishop 
 might have been if he had not been the 
 discontented hero of his own autobiography, 
 he could not indeed have pretended to 
 divine; but what he was before he was 
 Richard Watson, where his mind had existed 
 before he was born, and from whom, or 
 rather from what, it had been transmitted, 
 were questions which, according to his 
 notions, might admit of a probable solution. 
 
 It will not surprise the judicious reader to 
 be told that the Doctor was a professed phy- 
 siognomist, though Lavater had not in those 
 days made it fashionable to talk of phy- 
 siognomy as a science. Baptista Porta led 
 him to consider the subject ; and the coarse 
 wood-cuts of a bungling Italian elucidated 
 
 the system as effectually as has since been 
 done by Mr. Holloway's graver. But Dr. 
 Dove carried it farther than the Swiss 
 enthusiast after, or the Neapolitan physician 
 before him. Conceiving in a deeper sense 
 than Lebrun, que chacun avail sa bete dans 
 la figure, he insisted that the strong animal 
 likenesses which are often so distinctly to be 
 traced in men, -and the correspondent pro- 
 pensities wherewith they are frequently 
 accompanied, are evidence of our having 
 pre-existed in an inferior state of being. And 
 he deduced from it a theory, or notion as he 
 modestly called it, which he would have 
 firmly believed to be a part of the patriarchal 
 faith, if he had known how much it resem- 
 bled the doctrine of the Druids. 
 
 His notion was that the Archeus, or living 
 principle, acquires that perfect wisdom with 
 which it acts, by passing through a 'long 
 progression in the lower world, before it 
 becomes capable of being united to a rational 
 and immortal soul in the human body. He 
 even persuaded himself that he could dis- 
 cover in particular individuals indications of 
 the line by which their Archeus had tra- 
 velled through the vegetable and animal 
 kingdoms. 
 
 There was a little pragmatical exciseman, 
 with a hungry face, sharp nose, red eyes, and 
 thin, coarse, straggling hair of a yellow cast, 
 (what was formerly called Judas-colour,) 
 whom he pronounced to have been a ferret 
 in his last stage. "Depend upon it," he 
 said, " no rat will come under the roof 
 where he resides ! " And he was parti- 
 cularly careful when they met in the open 
 ah* always to take the wind of him. 
 
 One lawyer, a man of ability and fair cha- 
 racter, but ready to avail himself of every 
 advantage which his profession afforded, he 
 traced from a bramble into a wasp, thence 
 into a butcher-bird, and lastly into a fox, 
 the vulpine character being manifestly re- 
 tained in his countenance. There was 
 another, who, from sweeping his master's 
 office and blacking his shoes, had risen to be 
 the most noted pettifogger in those parts. 
 This fellow was his peculiar abhorrence ; 
 his living principle, he affirmed, could never
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 319 
 
 Lave existed in any other form than that of 
 a nuisance ; and accordingly he made out 
 his genealogy thus: a stinker (which is 
 the trivial name of the phallus impudicus,) 
 a London bug, an ear-wig, a pole-cat, 
 and, still worsening as he went on, a knavish 
 attorney. 
 
 He convicted an old Major in the West 
 York Militia of having been a turkey cock ; 
 and all who knew the Major were satisfied 
 of the likeness, whatever they might be of 
 the theory. 
 
 One of the neighbouring justices was a 
 large, square-built, heavy person, with a 
 huge head, a wide mouth, little eyes, and a 
 slender proportion of intellect. Him he set 
 down for a hippopotamus. 
 
 A brother magistrate of the Major's had 
 been a goose, beyond all dispute. There 
 was even proof of the fact ; for it was per- 
 fectly well remembered that he had been 
 born web-fingered. 
 
 All those persons who habitually sit up 
 till night is far spent, and as regularly pass 
 the best hours of the morning in bed, he 
 supposed to have been bats, night-birds, 
 night-prowling beasts, and insects whose por- 
 tion of active life has been assigned to them 
 during the hours of darkness. One indi- 
 cation of this was, that candle-light could 
 not have such attractions for them unless 
 they had been moths. 
 
 The dog was frequently detected in all 
 its varieties, from the lap-dog, who had 
 passed into the whipper-snapper petit-maitre, 
 and the turn-spit, who was now the bandy- 
 legged baker's boy, to the Squire's eldest 
 son, who had been a lurcher, the Butcher, 
 who had been a bull-dog, and so continued 
 
 still in the same line of life ; Lord A 's 
 
 domestic chaplain, harmless, good-natured, 
 sleek, obsequious, and as fond of ease, in- 
 dulgence and the fire-side, as when he had 
 
 been a parlour spaniel ; Sir William B 's 
 
 huntsman, who exercised now the whip 
 which he had felt when last upon four legs, 
 and who was still an ugly hound, though 
 staunch ; and the Doctor's own man, Bar- 
 naby, whom, for steadiness, fidelity, and 
 courage, he pronounced to have been a true 
 
 old English mastiff, and one of the best of 
 his kind. 
 
 Chloris had been a lily. You saw it in the 
 sickly delicacy of her complexion. More- 
 over she toiled not, neither did she spin. 
 
 A young lady, in whose family he was 
 perfectly familiar, had the singular habit of 
 sitting always upon one or other foot, which 
 as she sat down she conveyed so dexterously 
 into the seat of her chair, that no one who 
 was not previously acquainted with her 
 ways, could possibly perceive the movement. 
 Upon her mother's observing one day that 
 this was a most unaccountable peculiarity, 
 the Doctor replied, " No, madam ! I can 
 account for it to my own entire satisfaction. 
 Your daughter was a bird of some gentle 
 and beautiful species, in her last stage of 
 existence ; in that state she used always to 
 draw up one leg when at rest, The habits 
 that we acquire in our pre-existent state, 
 continue with us through many stages of 
 our progress ; your daughter will be an 
 Angel in her next promotion, and then, if 
 Angels close their eyes in slumber, she will 
 sleep with her head under her wing." 
 
 The landlady of the White Lion had been 
 a cabbage, a blue-bottle fly, a tame duck, 
 and a bacon-pig. 
 
 Who could doubt that Vauban had been 
 an earthworm, a mole, and a rabbit ? that 
 Euclid acquired the practical knowledge of 
 geometry when he was a spider ; and that 
 the first builder of a pyramid imitated un- 
 consciously the proportionately far greater 
 edifices which he had been employed in 
 raising when he was one of a nation of 
 white ants? 
 
 Mrs. Dove had been a cowslip, a humble 
 bee, and, lastly, a cushat. 
 
 He himself had been a Dove and a Ser- 
 pent for "Dan was a Serpent by the way ;" 
 and moreover, he flattered himself that ho 
 had the wisdom of the one, and the sim- 
 plicity of tie other. Of his other stages he 
 was not so certain, except that he had 
 probably once been an inhabitant of the 
 waters, in the shape of some queer fish.
 
 320 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXVIIL 
 
 ELUCIDATIONS OF THE COLUMBIAN THEORY. 
 
 Thou almost makest me waver in my faith, 
 To hold opinion with Pythagoras, 
 That souls of animals infuse themselves 
 Into the trunks of men. 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 MANY facts in illustration or exemplifica- 
 tion of the Doctor's theory concerning pro- 
 gressive existence must have occurred to 
 every one within the circle of his own ob- 
 servations. One of the scientific persons 
 who abridged the Philosophical Transactions 
 says, he " was acquainted with a medical 
 practitioner of considerable eminence who 
 could not refrain from eating toasted cheese, 
 though he was subject to an alarming pul- 
 monary complaint which was uniformly ag- 
 gravated by it, and which terminated fatally 
 at an age by no means advanced." This 
 practitioner, the Doctor would have said, 
 had been either a mouse or a rat, and in that 
 pre-existent form had nibbled at such a 
 bait, perhaps once too often. This would 
 account for the propensity, even if he were 
 not a Welshman to boot. 
 
 The same author says " there is now 
 living a physician of my acquaintance who 
 at an autumnal dessert never ceases eating 
 all the filberts he can lay his hands upon, 
 although he very candidly acknowledges 
 that they are extremely indigestible and 
 hurtful things." Upon the Doctor's theory, 
 who can doubt that he had been a squirrel ? 
 
 " I remember," says a certain Mr. George 
 Garden, in a letter written from Aberdeen 
 in 1676, "when Mrs. Scougall and I were 
 with you last summer, we had occasion to 
 speak of a man in this country very remark- 
 able for something peculiar in his temper, 
 that inclines him to imitate unawares all the 
 gestures and motions of those with whom 
 he converses. We then had never seen him 
 ourselves. Since our return we were toge- 
 ther at Strathbogie where he dwells, and 
 notwithstanding all we had heard of him 
 before, were somewhat surprised with the 
 oddness of this dotterel quality. This per- 
 
 son named Donald Munro, being a little old 
 and very plain man, of a thin slender body, 
 has been subject to this infirmity, as he 
 told us, from his very infancy. He is very 
 loath to have it observed, and therefore 
 casts down his eyes when he walks in the 
 streets, and turns them aside when he is in 
 company. We had made several trials before 
 he perceived our design, and afterwards 
 had much ado to make him stay. We ca- 
 ressed him as much as we could, and had 
 then the opportunity to observe that he 
 imitated not only the scratching of the head, 
 but also the wringing of the hands, wiping 
 of the nose, stretching forth of the arms, 
 &c., and we needed not strain compliments 
 to persuade him to be covered, for he still 
 put off and on as he saw us do, and all this 
 with so much exactness, and yet with such 
 a natural and unaffected air, that we could 
 not so much as suspect that he did it on 
 design. When we held both his hands and 
 caused another to make such motions, he 
 pressed to get free ; but when we would have 
 known more particularly how he found him- 
 self affected, he could only give us this 
 simple answer, that it vexed his heart and 
 his brain." 
 
 The writer of this letter had hit upon the 
 solution of the idiosyncracy which he de- 
 scribes, but had not perceived it. The man 
 had been a dotterel. 
 
 " Have we not heard," said the Doctor, 
 " of persons who have ruminated ? Do we 
 not read well-authenticated cases of some 
 whose skins were tuberculated ? Is it not 
 recorded of Dioscorides, not the botanist, 
 but the Alexandrian physician of Cleopatra's 
 time, that he was called Phacas because his 
 body was covered with warts ? And where 
 was this so likely to have happened as in 
 Egypt? He had been a crocodile. The 
 cases are more frequent of people who in the 
 scaliness of their skins have borne testimony 
 of their piscine origin. 
 
 Was not Margaret Griffith, wife of David 
 Owen of Llan Gaduain in Montgomeryshire 
 shown in London, because a crooked horn 
 four inches long grew out of the middle of 
 her forehead ? "A miraculous and mon-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 321 
 
 strous, but yet most true and certain ac- 
 count" of her, with her rude portrait affixed, 
 was imprinted at London by Thomas Owen, 
 in the year of the Spanish Armada, and sold 
 by Edward White, at the little north door of 
 St. Paul's Church, at the Sign of the Gun. 
 And in the British Museum there is not 
 only the picture of another horned woman, 
 Davies by name, who was born at Shotwick 
 in Cheshire, but one of the horns also which 
 she shed. 
 
 There was a Mistress Bomby, (not the 
 Mother Bornbie of the old play, but a per- 
 son of our own times,) who having been a 
 schoolmistress till the age of fifty, married 
 at that age, and on the day of her marriage 
 became deranged. She never recovered her 
 reason, but she lived to be fourscore ; and 
 in the latter year of her life a crooked horn 
 sprouted from the side of her forehead, and 
 grew to the length of nearly six inches. 
 Another made its appearance, but its growth 
 was stopped. It is to be regretted that the 
 person who recorded this did not say whe- 
 ther the second horn made its appearance 
 on the other side of the forehead, so as to 
 correspond with the former and form a pair. 
 
 Blumenbach had three human horns in 
 his collection, all the growth of one woman. 
 She had broken her head by a fall, and the 
 first of them grew from the wound ; it con- 
 tinued growing for thirty years, till it was 
 about ten inches long, then it dropped off; 
 a second grew from its place, this was short, 
 thick, and nearly straight, and she shed it in 
 less time ; the third was growing when she 
 died, and the Professor had it cut from the 
 corpse. The first was completely twisted 
 like a ram's horn, was round and rough, of 
 a brownish colour, and full half an inch in 
 diameter at the roots. All three appeared 
 to be hollow, and were blunt, and rounded 
 at the termination. It has been said that 
 all the cases of this kind which have been 
 observed have been in women ; the remark, 
 whether it were made by Blumenbach, or 
 by the intelligent traveller who describes 
 this part of his collection, would, if it were 
 true, be unimportant, because of the paucity 
 of cases that have been recorded: but there 
 
 is a case of a male subject, and it is remark- 
 able for the circumstances attending it. 
 
 Marshal Laverdin in the year 1599 was 
 hunting in the province of Maine, when his 
 attendants came in sight of a peasant who, 
 instead of waiting to pay his obeisance to 
 their master, fled from them. They pursued 
 and overtook him ; and as he did not un- 
 cover to salute the Marshal, they plucked off' 
 his cap, and discovered that he had a horn 
 growing on his head. Francois Trouillu 
 was this poor man's name, and he was then 
 aged thirty -four years : the horn began to 
 sprout when he was about seven years old ; 
 it was shaped almost like that of a ram, only 
 the flutings were straight instead of spiral, 
 and the end bowed inwards toward the 
 cranium. The fore part of his head was 
 bald, and his beard red and tufted, such as 
 painters bestow upon Satyrs. He had re- 
 tired to the woods hoping to escape exposure 
 there, and there he wrought in the coal-pits. 
 Marshal Laverdin took possession of him 
 as he would of a wild beast, and sent him as 
 a present to Henry IV. ; and that King, 
 with even more inhumanity than the Mar- 
 shal, bestowed him upon somebody who 
 carried him about as a show. Mezeray, who 
 relates this without any comment upon the 
 abominable tyranny of the Marshal and the 
 King, concludes the story by saying, "the 
 poor man took it so much to haart to be 
 thus led about like a bear and exposed to 
 the laughter and mockery of his fellow crea- 
 tures, that he very soon died." 
 
 Blumenbach says "it has been ascertained 
 by chemical analysis that such horns have a 
 greater affinity in their composition with the 
 horns of the rhinoceros than of any other 
 animal." It may be so ; but the short and 
 straight horns were stunted in their growth ; 
 their natural tendency was to twist like a 
 sheep's horn ; and the habit of cornifica- 
 tion is more likely to have been formed 
 nearer home than in the interior of Africa. 
 
 The first rope-dancer, or as Johnson 
 would have called him "funambulist," the 
 Doctor said, had been a monkey ; the first 
 fellow who threw a somerset, a tumbler 
 pigeon.
 
 322 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 The Oneirocrites, or Orieirologists, as 
 they who pretended to lay down rules for 
 the interpretation of dreams called them- 
 selves, say that if any one dreams he has the 
 head of a horse on his shoulders instead of 
 his own, it betokens poverty and servitude. 
 The Doctor was of opinion that it presaged 
 nothing, but that it bore a retrospective in- 
 terpretation, being the confused reminiscence 
 of a prior state. 
 
 Amateur thieves, for there are persons 
 who commit petty larcenies with no other 
 motive than the pleasure of stealing, he 
 supposed to have been tame magpies or 
 jackdaws. And in the vulgar appellation 
 which is sometimes bestowed upon an odious 
 woman, he thought that though there was 
 not more meant than meets the ear, there 
 was more truth conveyed than was intended. 
 
 A dramatist 'of Charles the First's reign, 
 
 "Tis thought the hairy child that's shown about 
 Came by the mother's thinking on the picture 
 Of Saint John Baptist, in his camel's coat. 
 
 But for this and other recorded cases of the 
 same kind the Doctor accounted more satis- 
 factorily to himself by his own theory. For 
 though imagination, he said, might explain 
 these perfectly well, (which he fully ad- 
 mitted,) yet it could not explain the horned, 
 nor the tubercular, nor the ruminating cases ; 
 nor the Case of John Ferguisson, of the 
 parish of Killmelfoord in Argyleshire, who 
 lived eighteen years without taking any 
 other sustenance than water, and must there- 
 fore either have been a leech, tortoise, or 
 some other creature capable of being so 
 supported. Nor could anything so well as 
 his hypothesis explain the cases in which 
 various parts of the human body had been 
 covered with incrustations, which were shed 
 and reproduced in continual succession, a 
 habit retained from some crustaceous stage 
 of existence, and probably acquired in the 
 form of a crab or lobster. Still more re- 
 markable was the case of a German, com- 
 municated by Dr. Steyerthall to the Royal 
 Society : this poor man cast his leg by an 
 effort of nature, not by an immediate act of 
 volition, as he would have done in his crab 
 
 or lobster state, for the power had not been 
 retained with the habit, but after long and 
 severe suffering ; the limb, however, at last 
 separated of itself, and the wound healed. 
 
 Neither, he said, could imagination ex- 
 plain the marvellous and yet well-attested 
 story of the Danish woman who lay in, like 
 Leda, of two eggs. The neighbours who 
 were called in at the delivery, most im- 
 properly broke one and found that it con- 
 tained a yolk and white, to all appearance as 
 in that of a hen, which it also resembled in 
 size. The other, instead of endeavouring to 
 hatch it, they sent to Olaus Wormius, and 
 it is still to be seen at Copenhagen. 
 
 How, he would ask, was the case of Samuel 
 Chilton, near Bath, to be explained, who 
 used to sleep for weeks and months at a 
 time ; but as an old habit of hibernation, 
 acting at irregular times, because it was no 
 longer under the direction of a sane instinct. 
 And how that of the idiot at Ostend, who 
 died at last in consequence of his appetite 
 for iron, no fewer than eight-and-twenty 
 pieces to the amount of nearly three pounds 
 in weight, having been found in his stomach 
 after death. Who but must acknowledge 
 that he had retained this habit from an 
 ostrich ? 
 
 This poor creature was really ferrivorous. 
 The Doctor, though he sometimes pressed 
 into his service a case to which some excep- 
 tions might have been taken, would not 
 have classed as a quondam ostrich the 
 sailor who used to swallow knives for a feat 
 of desperate bravery, and died miserably, as 
 might be expected. Nor would he have 
 formed any such conclusion concerning the 
 person of whom Adam Clarke has preserved 
 the following remarkable story, in the words 
 of Dr. Fox, who kept a lunatic asylum near 
 Bristol. 
 
 "In my visits among my patients, one 
 morning, I went into a room where two, who 
 were acquaintances of each other, were ac- 
 customed to live : immediately I entered, I 
 noticed an unusual degree of dejection about 
 one of them, and a feverish kind of excite- 
 ment in the c/ther. I inquired what was 
 the matter ? ' Matter ! ' said the excited
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 323 
 
 one, ' matter enough ! he has done for him- 
 self! ' ' Why ? what has he done ?' ' Oh 
 he has only swallowed the poker ! ' During 
 this short conversation the other looked in- 
 creasingly mournful; and on my inquiring 
 what was the matter with him, he replied, 
 ' He has told you true enough ; I have swal- 
 lowed the poker, and do not know what I 
 shall do with it ! ' 'I will tell you how it 
 happened,' said the first. ' My friend and 
 I were sitting by the fire talking on different 
 things, when I offered to lay him a wager 
 that he could not eat any of the poker : he 
 said he could and would ; took it up, twisted 
 the end of it backward and forward between 
 the bars of the grate, and at last broke off 
 some inches of it, and instantly swallowed 
 it ; and he has looked melancholy ever since.' 
 I did not believe," said Dr. Fox, " a word 
 of this tale ; and I suppose the narrator 
 guessed as much, for he added, 'O, you can 
 see that it is true, for there is the rest of the 
 poker.' I went to the grate and examined 
 the poker, which, being an old one, had been 
 much burned ; and where the action of the 
 fire had been fiercest and had worn away 
 the iron, a piece of between two and three 
 inches had been wrenched off, and was miss- 
 ing. Still I could hardly credit that the 
 human stomach could receive such a dose 
 and remain ' feeling,' as the professed 
 swallower of it said, 'nothing particular.' 
 However the constant affirming of the first, 
 united to the assent and rueful looks of the 
 second, induced me to use the patient as 
 though the account were true : I adminis- 
 tered very strong medicines, and watched 
 their effects constantly. The man ate, and 
 drank, and slept as usual, and appeared to 
 suffer nothing but from the effect of the 
 medicines. At last, to my astonishment, 
 the piece of the poker came away, and the 
 man was as well as ever. The iron had un- 
 dergone a regular process of digestion, and 
 the surface of it was deeply honey-combed 
 by the action of the juices. This was a most 
 singular case, and proves how the God of 
 Nature has endowed our system with powers 
 of sustaining and redressing the effects of 
 our own follies." 
 
 The tales of lycanthropy which are found 
 in such different ages and remote countries 
 strongly supported the Doctor's theory. 
 Virgil, and Ovid in his story of Lycaon, had 
 only adapted a popular superstition to their 
 purposes. And like its relator he regarded 
 as a mere fable the legend which Pliny has 
 preserved from the lost works of Evanthes, a 
 Greek author not to be despised. Evanthes 
 had found it written among the Arcadians 
 that a man from the family of a certain 
 Antaeus * in that country was chosen by lot, 
 and taken to a certain lake ; there he stript, 
 hung his garments upon an oak, swam across 
 and going into the wilderness, became a 
 wolf, and herded with wolves for nine years ; 
 and if during that time he abstained from 
 doing any hurt to men, he returned to the 
 lake, recrossed it, resumed his human form, 
 with the only change of being the worse, 
 not for the wear indeed, but for the lapse of 
 those nine years ; and moreover found his 
 clothes where he had left them. Upon 
 which Pliny observes, Mirum est quo pro- 
 cedat GrcEca credulitas ! Nullum tarn im- 
 pudens mendacium est quod teste careat. 
 
 A worse manner of effecting the same 
 metamorphosis Pliny relates from the Olym- 
 pionics of Agriopas ; that at a human sacri- 
 fice offered by the Arcadians to Jupiter 
 Lyca3us, one Demsenetus Parrhasius tasted 
 the entrails, and was transformed into a 
 wolf; at the expiration of ten years he 
 resumed his original form, and obtained the 
 prize of pugilism at the Olympic games. 
 
 But the Doctor differed from Pliny's 
 opinion that all which is related concerning 
 lycanthropy must be rejected or all believed; 
 Homines in lupos verti rursumque restitui 
 sibi, falsum esse confidenter existimare de- 
 bemus ; aid, credere omnia, qua fabvlosa tot 
 secidis comperimus. The belief, however, he 
 admits, was so firmly fixed in the common 
 people that their word for turncoat was 
 derived from it; Unde tamen ista vulgo 
 infixa sit fama in tantum, ut in maledictis 
 
 * The original is ex gente Anltei cujusdam. Cf. Lib. 
 viii. c. xxiii. In the original edition Antaeus is written 
 author by mistake, which is the occasion of this note, and 
 must have puzzled many a reader. 
 
 Y 3
 
 324 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 versipelles fiabeat, indicabitur. These fables, 
 the Doctor argued, could not invalidate the 
 testimony of ancient physicians, that there 
 was an actual and well-known species of 
 madness, in which men howled like wolves, 
 and wandered by night about in lonely 
 places or among the tombs. It was most 
 severe at the commencement of spring ; and 
 was sometimes epidemic in certain countries. 
 Pieter Forest, whose character for accuracy 
 and sagacity stands high among medical 
 writers, affirms that he, in the sixteenth 
 century, had seen the disease, and that it 
 was as it had been described by the ancients. 
 He must have been a credulous person who 
 believed Constantinople had been so in- 
 fested by these wolf-men, that the Grand 
 Seignior and his guards had been obliged to 
 go out against them ; killing a hundred and 
 fifty, and putting the rest of the pack to 
 flight. This was a traveller's tale ; and the 
 stories related in books of demonology and 
 witchcraft, concerning wretches who had 
 been tried and executed for having, in the 
 shape of wolves, killed and eaten children, 
 and who had confessed their guilt, might be 
 explained, like other confessions of witch- 
 craft, by the effects of fear and tortures ; yet 
 there were cases upon which the Doctor 
 thought no doubt could be entertained. 
 
 One case upon which the Doctor insisted 
 was that of an Italian peasant near Pavia, 
 who in the year 1541 was seized with this 
 madness, and fancying himself to be a wolf, 
 attacked several persons in the fields and 
 killed some of them. He was taken at last, 
 but not without great difficulty ; and when 
 in the hands of his captors he declared that 
 he was a wolf, however much they might 
 doubt the avowal, and that the only dif- 
 ference between him and other wolves was, 
 that they had their fur on the outside of the 
 skin, but his was between the skin and the 
 flesh. The madman asserted this so posi- 
 tively that some of the party, trop inhumains 
 et lonps par effect, as Simon Goulart says 
 with a humanity above the standard of his 
 age, determined to see, and made several 
 slashes in his arms and legs. Repenting of 
 their cruelty, when they had convinced 
 
 themselves by this experiment that the poor 
 wretch was really insane, they put him 
 under the care of a surgeon ; and he died in 
 the course of a few days under his hands. 
 " Now," said the Doctor, " if this were a 
 solitary case, it would evidently be a case 
 of madness ; but as lycanthropy is re- 
 cognised by physicians of different times 
 and countries, as a specific and well-known 
 affection of the human mind, can it be so satis- 
 factorily explained in any other manner, as 
 by the theory of progressive existence, by 
 the resurrection of a habit belonging to the 
 preceding stage of the individual's progress?" 
 
 The superstition was not disbelieved by 
 Bishop Hall. In the account of what he 
 observed in the Netherlands, he says of 
 Spa, " the wide deserts on which it borders 
 are haunted with three kinds of ill cattle, 
 free-booters, wolves, and witches, though 
 these two last are often one." 
 
 AVhen Spenser tells us it was said of the 
 Irish, as of the Scythians, how they were 
 once a year turned into wolves, " though 
 Master Camden in a better sense doth sup- 
 pose it was the disease called Lycanthropia," 
 he adds these remarkable words, "yet 
 some of the Irish do use to make the wolf 
 their gossip." Now it must be observed 
 that gossip is not here used in its secondary 
 meaning of a talking, tattling, or tippling 
 companion, but in its original import, though 
 wickedly detorted here: "Our Christian 
 ancestors," says Verstegan, " understanding 
 a spiritual affinity to grow between the 
 parents and such as undertook for the child 
 at baptism, called each other by the name 
 of God-sib, which is as much as to say as 
 that they were sib together, that is, of kin 
 together, through God." The Limerick 
 schoolmaster whose words are transcribed 
 by Camden, says, " they receive wolves as 
 gossips, calling them Chari-Christ, praying 
 for them, and wishing them happy ; upon 
 which account they are not afraid of them." 
 There was great store of wolves in Ireland 
 at that time ; and the Doctor asked whether 
 so strange a custom could be satisfactorily 
 explained in any way but by a blind con- 
 sciousness of physical affinity, by suppos-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 325 
 
 ing that those who chose wolves to be god- 
 fathers and godmothers for their children, 
 had in the preceding stage of their own 
 existence been wolves themselves ? 
 
 How triumphantly would be have ap- 
 pealed to a story which Captain Beaver 
 relates in his African Memoranda. "In the 
 evening," says that most enterprising, re- 
 solute, able, and right-minded man, " two or 
 three of the grumetas came to me and said 
 that Francisco, one of their party, was not a 
 good man : that he wanted to eat one of 
 them, John Basse, who had been this day 
 taken very ill. As I could not comprehend 
 what they meaut by saying that one of them 
 wanted to eat another, I sent for Johnson to 
 explain. He said that the man accused of 
 eating the other was a witch, and that he 
 was the cause of John Basse's illness, by 
 sucking his blood with his infernal witch- 
 craft; and that these people had come to 
 request that I would let them tie him to a 
 tree and flog him, after they had finished 
 their work. I told them that there was no 
 such thing as a witch ; that it was impossible 
 for this man to suck the blood of another, 
 by any art which he could possibly possess ; 
 that he could not be the cause of another 
 man's illness by such means ; and that with 
 respect to flogging, no one punished on the 
 island but myself. Johnson, who is as 
 bigoted in this instance as any of them, 
 says that he is well known to be a witch-: 
 that he has killed many people with his 
 infernal art, and that this is the cause of his 
 leaving his own country, where, if he should 
 ever be caught, he would be sold as a slave ; 
 and that he with difficulty had prevented the 
 other grumetas from throwing him overboard 
 on their passage from Bissao hither. John- 
 son moreover told me that there was another 
 witch among the grumetas, who had the 
 power of changing himself into an alligator, 
 and that he also had killed many people by 
 his witchcraft, and was consequently obliged 
 to run from his country. They therefore 
 most earnestly entreated me to let them 
 punish them, country fashion, and they pro- 
 mised not to kill either of them. Astonished 
 at the assurance that neither of them should 
 
 be killed if they were permitted to punish 
 them, I told Johnson that if such a thing 
 should occur, I would immediately hang all 
 those concerned in it, and then endeavoured 
 to reason them out of their foolish notions 
 respecting these two poor men. Johnson 
 replied, that it was the custom of the country 
 for white men never to interfere in these 
 cases, and that at Bissao the governor never 
 took notice of their thus punishing one 
 another according to their own country 
 fashion, and that they expected the same 
 indulgence here ; for that if these people 
 were in their own country, they would 
 either be killed or sold, as witchcraft was 
 never forgiven, and its professors never 
 suffered to remain in their own country, 
 when once found out. I had now all the 
 grumetas round me, among whom were the 
 accused themselves, and endeavoured again 
 to convince them of the innocence of these 
 people, by pointing out the impossibility of 
 their hurting others by any magic or spell, 
 or of transforming themselves into any other 
 shape. When many of them said this man 
 had often avowed his turning himself into 
 an alligator to devour people : ' How say 
 you, Corasmo,' said I, ' did you ever say so 
 to any of these people ? ' ' Yes, 1 was his 
 reply. ' What do you mean ? do you mean 
 to say that you ever transformed yourself 
 into any other shape than that which you 
 now bear ?' 'Yes,' was the answer. ' Now, 
 Corasmo, you know that white man knows 
 everything ; you cannot deceive me ; there- 
 fore avow to those people, that you never 
 changed yourself into an alligator, and that 
 these are all lies.' ' No,' was his reply, 
 who can believe it ? 'I can change myself 
 into an alligator, and have often done it." 
 This was such an incorrigible witch that I 
 immediately gave him up to the grumetas to 
 punish him, but desired them to be merciful. 
 It is scarcely credible that a man can so 
 work upon his own weak imagination as to 
 beliere, which I doubt not this man did, its 
 own fanciful creations to be realities. 
 After the grumetas had left me last night I 
 regretted having delivered up to them the 
 two poor miserable wretches accused of
 
 326 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 witchcraft. From ten till twelve at night 
 their cries were most piteous and loud, 
 and though distant a full half mile, were 
 distinctly heard. This morning they cannot 
 move." 
 
 There was a Mr. "William Wright, of 
 Sahara Tony in Norfolk, who used to cast 
 his skin every year, sometimes once, some- 
 times twice ; it was an uneasy and distress- 
 ing effort of nature, preceded by itching, red 
 spots, and swellings ; the fingers became 
 stiff, hard, and painful at the ends, and about 
 the nails the pain was exquisite. The whole 
 process of changing was completed in from 
 ten to twelve days, but it was about six 
 months before the nails were perfectly re- 
 newed. From the hands the skin came off 
 whole like a glove : and a print representing 
 one of these gloves is given with the account 
 of the case in the Gentleman's Magazine. 
 
 When this was related to the Doctor it 
 perplexed him. The habit was evidently 
 that . of a snake ; and it did not agree with 
 his theory to suppose that the Archeus would 
 pass, as it were per saltum, fro,m so low a 
 stage of existence to the human form. But 
 upon reading the account himself he was 
 completely satisfied as soon as he found that 
 the subject was an Attorney. 
 
 He did not know, because it was not 
 known till Mr. Wilkin published his excel- 
 lent edition of Sir Thomas Browne's Works, 
 that that Philosopher sent to his son Dr. 
 Edward Browne, " the skin of the palm of 
 a woman's hand, cast off at the end of a 
 fever, or in the declination thereof. I called 
 it," he says, " exuvium palmce muliebris, the 
 Latin word being exuvia in the plural, but 
 I named it exuvium, or exuvia in the singular 
 number. It is neat, and worthy to be shown 
 when you speak of the skin. Snakes, and 
 lizards, and divers insects cast their skins, 
 and they are very neat ones : men also in 
 some diseases, by pieces, but I have not met 
 with any so neat as this : a palmister might 
 read a lecture of it. The whole soles of 
 the feet came off, and I have one." If the 
 Doctor had heard of this case, and had not 
 suspected the woman of having once be- 
 longed to a generation of vipers, or some 
 
 snekki-famili as the words are rendered in 
 the Talkee-talkee version, he would have 
 derived her from an eel, and expressed a 
 charitable hope that she might not still be 
 a slippery subject. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXIX. 
 
 WHEREIN THE AUTHOR SPEAKS OF A TRAGEDY 
 FOR THE LADIES, AND INTRODUCES ONE Of 
 WILLIAM DOVE'S STORIES FOR CHILDREN. 
 
 Y donde sobre todo de su dueno 
 
 El gran tesoro y el caudal se infiere, 
 Es que al grande, al mediano, y al pequeno, 
 
 Todo se da de balde a quien lo quiere. 
 
 BALBUENA. 
 
 HERE might be the place for inquiring how 
 far the Doctor's opinions or fancies upon 
 this mysterious subject were original. His 
 notion he used to call it ; but a person to 
 whom the reader will be introduced ere Ion f, 
 
 o' 
 
 and who regarded him with the highest 
 admiration and the profoundest respect, 
 always spoke of it as the Columbian Theory 
 of Progressive Existence. Original indeed 
 in the Doctor it was not ; he said that he 
 had learned it from his poor Uncle William ; 
 but that William Dove originated it him- 
 self there can be little doubt. From books 
 it was impossible that he should have de- 
 rived it, because he could not read ; and 
 nothing can be more unlikely than that he 
 should have met with it as a traditional 
 opinion. The Doctor believed that this poor 
 Uncle, of whom he never spoke without 
 some expression of compassionate kindness, 
 had deduced it intuitively as an inference 
 from his instinctive skill in physiognomy. 
 
 When subjects like these are treated of, 
 it should be done discreetly. There should 
 be, in the words of Bishop Andre wes, 
 " OlKovopia, a dispensation, not a "dissipa- 
 tion ; a laying forth, not Siaa-Kopiriff^c, a 
 casting away ; a wary sowing, not a heedless 
 scattering; and a sowing x e 'P*> ^ &v\aK(f, 
 by handfulls, not by basket-fulls, as the 
 heathen-man well said." Bearing this in 
 mind I have given a Chapterfull, not a
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 327 
 
 Volumefull, and that Chapter is for physiolo- 
 gists and philosophers ; but this Opus is 
 not intended for them alone ; they consti- 
 tute but a part only of that " fit audience" 
 and not " few," which it will find. 
 
 One Andrew Henderson, a Scotchman, 
 who kept a bookseller's shop, or stand, in 
 Westminster Hall, at a time when lawyers' 
 tongues and witnesses' souls were not the 
 only commodities exposed for sale there, 
 published a tragedy called " Arsinoe, or The 
 Incestuous Marriage." The story was Egyp- 
 tian ; but the drama deserves to be called 
 Hendersonian, after its incomparable author; 
 for he assured the reader, in a prefatory 
 advertisement, that there were to be found in 
 it " the most convincing arguments against 
 incest and self-murder, interspersed with an 
 inestimable treasure of ancient and modern 
 learning, and the substance of the principles 
 of the illustrious Sir Isaac Xewton, adapted 
 to the meanest capacity, and very entertain- 
 ing to the Ladies, containing a nice descrip- 
 tion of the passions and behaviour of the 
 Fair Sex." 
 
 The Biographer, or Historian, or Anec- 
 dotist, or rather the reminiscent relator of 
 circumstances concerning the birth, parent- 
 age and education, life, character and be- 
 haviour, of Dr. Daniel Dove, prefers not so 
 wide a claim upon the gratitude of his 
 readers as Andrew Henderson has advanced. 
 Yet, like the author of " Arsinoe," he trusts 
 that his work is " adapted to the meanest 
 capacity ;" that the lamb may wade in it, 
 though the elephant may swim, and also that, 
 it will be found " very entertaining to the 
 Ladies." Indeed, he flatters himself that it 
 will be found profitable for old and young, 
 for men and for women, the married and the 
 single, the idle and the studious, the merry 
 and the sad ; that it may sometimes inspire 
 the thoughtless with thought, and some- 
 times beguile the careful of their cares. One 
 thing alone might hitherto seem wanting to 
 render it a. catholic, which is to say, an uni- 
 versal book, and that is, that as there are 
 Chapters in it for the closet, for the library, 
 for the breakfast room, for the boudoir, 
 (which is in modern habitations what the 
 
 oriel was in ancient ones,) for the drawing- 
 room, and for the kitchen, if you please, 
 (for whatever you may think, good reader, 
 I am of opinion, that books which at once 
 amuse and instruct may be as useful to 
 servant men and maids, as to their masters 
 and mistresses) so should there be one at 
 least for the nursery. With such a chapter, 
 therefore, will I brighten the countenance 
 of many a dear child, and gladden the heart 
 of many a happy father, and tender mother, 
 and nepotious uncle or aunt, and fond 
 brother or sister ; 
 
 For their sakes I will relate one of William 
 Dove's stories, with which he used to de- 
 light young Daniel, and with which the 
 Doctor in his turn used to delight his young 
 favourites ; and which never fails of effect 
 with that fit audience for which it is de- 
 signed, if it be told with dramatic spirit, in 
 the manner that our way of printing it may 
 sufficiently indicate, without the aid of 
 musical notation. Experto crede. Prick up 
 your ears then, 
 
 My good little women and men f ; 
 and ye who are neither so little, nor so good, 
 favete liiiguis, for here follows the Story of 
 the Three Bears. 
 
 THE STORY OF THE THREE 
 BEARS. 
 
 A tale which may content the minds 
 Of learned men and grave philosophers. 
 
 GASCOYNE. 
 
 ONCE upon a time there were Three Bears, 
 who lived together in a house of their own, 
 in a wood. One of them was a Little, Small, 
 Wee Bear ; and one was a Middle-sized 
 Bear, and the other was a Great, Huge 
 Bear. They had each a pot for their por- 
 ridge, a little pot for the Little, Small, Wee 
 Bear; and a middle-sized pot for the Middle 
 Bear, and a great pot for the Great, Huge 
 
 * SOPHOCLES. 
 
 t SOUTHBY.
 
 328 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Bear. And they had each a chair to sit in ; 
 a little chair for the Little, Small, Wee 
 Bear ; and a middle-sized chair for the 
 Middle Bear ; and a great chair for the 
 Great, Huge Bear. And they had each a 
 bed to sleep in ; a little bed for the Little, 
 Small, Wee Bear; and a middle-sized bed 
 for the Middle Bear ; and a great bed for 
 the Great, Huge Bear. 
 
 One day, after they had made the porridge 
 for their breakfast, and poured it into their 
 porridge-pots, they walked out into the 
 wood while the porridge was cooling, that 
 they might not burn their mouths, by be- 
 ginning too soon to eat it. And while they 
 were walking, a little old Woman came to 
 the house. She could not have been a good, 
 honest old Woman ; for first she looked in 
 at the window, and then she peeped in at 
 the keyhole ; and seeing nobody in the 
 house, she lifted the latch. The door was 
 not fastened, because the Bears were good 
 Bears, who did nobody any harm, and never 
 suspected that any body would harm them. 
 So the little old Woman opened the door, 
 and went in ; and well pleased she waa when 
 she saw the porridge on the table. If she 
 had been a good little old Woman, she would 
 have waited till the Bears came home, 
 and then, perhaps, they would have asked 
 her to breakfast ; for they were good Bears, 
 a little rough or so, as the manner of 
 Bears is, but for all that very good-natured 
 and hospitable. But she was an impudent, 
 bad old Woman, and set about helping her- 
 self. 
 
 So first she tasted the porridge of the 
 Great, Huge Bear, and that was too hot for 
 her ; and she said a bad word about that. 
 And then she tasted the porridge of the 
 Middle Bear, and that was too cold for her ; 
 and she said a bad word about that too. 
 And then she went to the porridge of the 
 Little, Small, Wee Bear, and tasted that; 
 and that was neither too hot, nor too cold, 
 but just right ; and she liked it so well, that 
 she ate it all up : but the naughty old 
 Woman said a bad word about the little por- 
 ridge-pot, because it did not hold enough 
 for her. 
 
 Then the little old Woman sate down in 
 the chair of the Great, Huge Bear, and that 
 was too hard for her. And then she sate 
 down in the chair of the Middle Bear, and 
 that was too soft for her. And then she 
 sate down in the chair of the Little, Small, 
 Wee Bear, and that was neither too hard, 
 nor too soft, but just right. So she seated 
 herself in it, and there she sate till the 
 bottom of the chair came out, and down 
 came her's, plump upon the ground. And 
 the naughty old Woman said a wicked word 
 about that too. 
 
 Then the little old Woman went up stairs 
 into the bed-chamber in which the three 
 Bears slept. And first she lay down upon 
 the bed of the Great, Huge Bear ; but that 
 was too high at the head for her. And next 
 she lay down upon the bed of the Middle 
 Bear ; and that was too high at the foot 
 for her. And then she lay down upon the 
 bed of the Little, Small, Wee Bear ; and 
 that was neither too high at the head, nor at 
 the foot, but just right. So she covered 
 herself up comfortably, and lay there till she 
 fell fast asleep. 
 
 By this time the Three Bears thought 
 their porridge would be cool enough; so 
 they came home to breakfast. Now the 
 little old Woman had left the spoon of the 
 Great, Huge Bear, standing in his porridge. 
 
 at 
 
 said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, 
 rough, gruff voice. And when the Middle 
 Bear looked at his, he saw that the spoon 
 was standing in it too. They were wooden 
 spoons ; if they had been silver ones, the 
 naughty old Woman would have put them 
 in her pocket. 
 
 " Somebody has been at my 
 porridge ! " 
 
 said the Middle Bear, in his middle voice. 
 Then the Little, Small, Wee Bear looked
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 329 
 
 at his, and there was the spoon in the por- 
 ridge-pot, but the porridge was all gone. 
 
 " Somebody has been at my porridge, and has eaten it all 
 tip ! " 
 
 said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his 
 little, small, wee voice. 
 
 Upon this the Three Bears, seeing that 
 some one had entered their house, and eaten 
 up the Little, Small, Wee Bear's breakfast, 
 began to look about them. Now the little 
 old Woman had not put the hard cushion 
 straight when she rose from the chair of the 
 Great, Huge Bear. 
 
 " 
 
 gbomtfuftg 
 pitting in m 
 
 torn 
 
 said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, 
 rough, gruff voice. 
 
 And the little old Woman had squatted 
 down the soft cushion of the Middle Bear. 
 
 " Somebody has been sitting 
 in my chair ! " 
 
 said the Middle Bear, in his middle voice. 
 
 And you know what the little old Woman 
 had done to the third chair. 
 
 " Somebody has been sitting in my chair, and has sate the 
 bottom of it out ! " 
 
 said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, 
 small, wee voice- 
 
 Then the Three Bears thought it neces- 
 sary that they should make farther search ; 
 so they went up stairs into their bed-cham- 
 ber. Now the little old Woman had pulled 
 the pillow of the Great, Huge Bear, out of 
 its place. 
 
 said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, 
 rough, gruff voice. 
 
 And the little old Woman had pulled the 
 bolster of the Middle Bear out of its place. 
 
 " Somebody has been lying in 
 my bed!" ' 
 
 said the Middle Bear, in his middle voice. 
 
 And when the Little, Small, Wee Bear 
 came to look at his bed, there was the bolster 
 in its place ; and the pillow in its place upon 
 the bolster ; and upon the pillow was the 
 little old Woman's ugly, dirty head, which 
 was not in its place, for she had no business 
 there. 
 
 " Somebody hat been lying in my bed, and here the it!" 
 
 said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his 
 little, small, wee voice. 
 
 The little old Woman had heard in her 
 sleep the great, rough, gruff voice of the 
 Great, Huge Bear ; but she was so fast 
 asleep that it was no more to her than 
 the roaring of wind, or the rumbling of 
 thunder. And she had heard the middle 
 voice of the Middle Bear, but it was only as 
 if she had heard some one speaking in a 
 dream. But when she heard the little, small, 
 wee voice of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, 
 it was so sharp, and so shrill, that it 
 awakened her at once. Up she started ; 
 and when she saw the Three Bears on one 
 side of the bed, she tumbled herself out at 
 the other, and ran to the window. Now the 
 window was open, because the Bears, like 
 good, tidy Bears, as they were, always 
 opened their bed-chamber window when they 
 got up in the morning. Out the little old 
 Woman jumped ; and whether she broke 
 her neck in the fall ; or ran into the wood 
 and was lost there ; or found her way out 
 of the wood, and was taken up by the con- 
 stable and sent to the House of Correction 
 for a vagrant as she was, I cannot tell. But 
 the Three Bears never saw anything more 
 of her.* 
 
 The lamented Southey was very much pleased with 
 the Story of the Three Bears as versified by G. N., and 
 published specially for the amusement of " little people," 
 lest in the volumes ol ' The Doctor, &c.," it should 
 "escape their sight."
 
 330 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXX. 
 
 CHILDREN AND KITTENS. APHORISMS 
 
 ASCRIBED TO THE LAUREATE, DOCTOR 
 SOUTHET. MORE COLUMBIAN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Oh ! if in after life we could but gather 
 The very refuse of our youthful hours ! 
 
 CHARLES LLOYD. 
 
 O DEAR little children, you who are in the 
 happiest season of human life, how will you 
 delight in the Story of the Three Bears, 
 when Mamma reads it to you out of this 
 nice book, or Papa, or some fond Uncle, 
 kind Aunt, or doting Sister ; Papa and 
 Uncle will do the Great, Huge Bear, best ; 
 but Sister, and Aunt, and Mamma, will ex- 
 cel them in the Little, Small, Wee Bear, 
 with his little, small, wee voice. And O Papa 
 and Uncle, if you are like such a Father and 
 such an Uncle as are at this moment in my 
 mind's eye, how will you delight in it, both 
 for the sake of that small, but "fit audience," 
 and because you will perceive how justly it 
 may be said to be 
 
 3 well- writ story, 
 
 Where each word stands so well placed that it passes 
 Inquisitive detraction to correct.* 
 
 It is said to be a saying of Dr. Southey's, 
 that " a house is never perfectly furnished 
 for enjoyment, unless there is a child in it 
 rising three years old, and a kitten rising six 
 weeks." 
 
 Observe, reader ; this is repeated upon 
 On-difs authority, which is never to be taken 
 for more than it is worth. I do not affirm 
 that Dr. Southey has said this, but he is 
 likely enough to have said it; for I know 
 that he sometimes dates his letters from Cat's 
 Eden. And if he did say so, I agree with 
 him, and so did the Doctor ; he specialiter 
 as regards the child, I specialiter as regards 
 the kitten. 
 
 Kitten is in the animal world what the 
 rosebud is in the garden ; the one the most 
 beautiful of all young creatures, the other 
 the loveliest of all opening flowers. The 
 
 * DAVENPORT. 
 
 rose loses only something in delicacy by 
 its development, enough to make it a 
 serious emblem to a pensive mind ; but if a 
 cat could remember kittenhood, as we re- 
 member our youth, it were enough to break 
 a cat's heart, even if it had nine times nine 
 heart strings. 
 
 Do not the flowers spring fresh and gay, 
 Pleasant and sweet, in the month of May ; 
 And when their time cometh they fade away.f 
 
 It is another saying of the Laureate's, 
 according to On-dit, that, " live as long as 
 you may, the first twenty years are the 
 longest half of your life." They appear so 
 while they are passing ; they seem to have 
 been so when we look back upon them ; and 
 they take up more room in our memory than 
 all the years that succeed them. 
 
 But in how strong a light has this been 
 placed by the American teacher Jacob Ab- 
 bott, whose writings have obtained so wide a 
 circulation in England. " Life," he says, " if 
 you understand by it the season of prepara- 
 tion for eternity, is more than half gone; 
 life so far as it presents opportunities and 
 facilities for penitence and pardon, so far 
 as it bears on the formation of character, 
 and is to be considered as a period of pro- 
 bation, is unquestionably more than half 
 gone, to those who are between fifteen and 
 twenty. In a vast number of cases it is more 
 than half gone, even in duration: and if we 
 consider the thousand influences which crowd 
 around the years of childhood and youth, 
 winning us to religion, and making a sur- 
 render of ourselves to Jehovah easy and 
 pleasant, and, on the other hand, look 
 forward beyond the years of maturity, and 
 see these influences losing all their power, 
 and the heart becoming harder and harder 
 under the deadening effects of continuance 
 in sin, we shall not doubt a moment 
 that the years of immaturity make a far 
 more important part of our time of probation 
 than all those that follow." 
 
 That pious man, who, while he lived, was 
 the Honourable Charles How, and might 
 properly now be called the honoured, says 
 
 t LCSTY JUVKNTUS.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 331 
 
 that " twenty years might be deducted for 
 education, from the three-score and ten 
 which are the allotted sum of human life ; 
 this portion," he observes, " is a time of dis- 
 cipline and restraint, and young people are 
 never easy till they are got over it." 
 
 There is, indeed, during those years, 
 much of restraint, of wearisomeness, of 
 hope, and of impatience ; all which feelings 
 lengthen the apparent duration of time. 
 Suffering, I have not included here ; but 
 with a large portion of the human race, in 
 all Christian countries, (to our shame be it 
 spoken !) it makes a large item in the ac- 
 count : there is no other stage of life in 
 which so much gratuitous suffering is en- 
 dured, so much that might have been 
 spared, so much that is a mere wanton, 
 wicked addition to the sum of human misery, 
 arising solely and directly from want of 
 feeling in others, their obduracy, their 
 caprice, their stupidity, their malignity, 
 their cupidity, and their cruelty. 
 
 Algunos sdbios han dicho que para lo que 
 el hombre tiene aprender es muy corta la vida; 
 mas yo ahado que es muy larga para los que 
 hemos de padecer. " Some wise men," writes 
 Capmany, " have said that life is very short 
 for what man has to learn, but I (he says) 
 must add, that it is very long for what we 
 have to suffer." Too surely this is but too 
 true ; and yet a more consolatory view may 
 be taken of human existence. The shortest 
 life is long enough for those who are more 
 sinned against than sinning; whose good 
 instincts have not been corrupted, and whose 
 evil propensities have either not been called 
 into action, or have been successfully resisted 
 and overcome. 
 
 The Philosopher of Doncaster found, in 
 his theory of progressive existence, an easy 
 solution for some of those questions on which 
 it is more presumptuous than edifying to 
 speculate, yet whereon that restless curiosity 
 which man derives from the leaven of the 
 forbidden fruit makes it difficult for a busy 
 mind to refrain from speculating. The hor- 
 rid opinion which certain Fathers entertained 
 concerning the souls of unbaptized infants, 
 he never characterised by any lighter epithet 
 
 than damnable, for he used to say, " it would 
 be wicked to use a weaker expression : " and 
 the more charitable notion of the Limbo he 
 regarded as a cold fancy, neither consonant 
 to the heart of man, nor consistent with the 
 wisdom and goodness of the Creator. He 
 thought that when the ascent of being has 
 been from good to better through all its 
 stages, in moral qualities as well as in phy- 
 sical development, the immortal spirit might 
 reach its human stage in such a state that it 
 required nothing more than the vehicle of 
 humanity, and might be spared its probation. 
 As Enoch had been translated without pass- 
 ing through death, so he thought such happy 
 spirits might be admitted into a higher 
 sphere of existence without passing through 
 the trials of sin and the discipline of sorrow. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXXI. 
 
 THE DOCTOR ABSTAINS FROM SPECULATING 
 ON PERILOUS SUBJECTS. A 6TOBT OP 
 ST. ANSELM. 
 
 This field is so spacious, that it were easy for a man to 
 lose himself in it ; and if I should spend all my pilgrimage 
 in this walk, my time would sooner end than my way. 
 
 BISHOP HAIL. 
 
 THE Doctor, though he played with many 
 of his theories as if they were rather mush- 
 rooms of the fancy than fruits of the under- 
 standing, never expressed himself sportively 
 upon this. He thought that it rested upon 
 something more solid than the inductions 
 of a speculative imagination, because there 
 is a feeling in human nature which answers 
 to it, acknowledges, and confirms it. Often 
 and often, in the course of his painful prac- 
 tice, he had seen bereaved parents seek for 
 consolation in the same conclusion, to which 
 faith and instinctive reason led them, though 
 no such hypothesis as his had prepared them 
 for it. They believed it simply and sin- 
 cerely ; and it is a belief, according to his 
 philosophy, which nature has implanted in 
 the heart for consolation, under one of the 
 griefs that affect it most. 
 
 He had not the same confidence in another
 
 332 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 view of the same branch of his hypothesis, 
 relating to the early death of less hopeful 
 subjects. Their term, he supposed, might 
 be cut short in mercy, if the predisposing 
 qualities which they had contracted on their 
 ascent were such as would have rendered 
 their tendency toward evil fatally predomi- 
 nant. But this, as he clearly saw, led to 
 the brink of a bottomless question ; and 
 when he was asked after what manner he 
 could explain why so many in whom this 
 tendency predominates are, to their own 
 destruction, permitted to live out their term, 
 he confessed himself at fault. It was among 
 the things, he said, which are inexplicable 
 by our limited powers of mind. When we 
 attain a higher sphere of existence, all things 
 will be made clear. Meantime, believing in 
 the infinite goodness of God, it is enough 
 for us to confide in His infinite mercy, and 
 in that confidence to rest. 
 
 When St. Anselm, at the age of seventy- 
 six, lay down in "his last illness, and one of 
 the Priests who stood around his bed said to 
 him, it being then Palm Sunday, "Lord 
 Father, it appears to us, that, leaving this 
 world, you are about to keep the Passover 
 in the Palace of your Lord!" the ambitious 
 old theologue made answer, et quidem, 
 si voluntas ejus in hoc est, voluntati ejus non 
 contradico. Verum si mallet me adhuc inter 
 vos saltern tamdiu manere, donee qucestionem 
 quam de animce origine mente revolvo, absol- 
 vere possem, gratiosus acciperem, eo quod 
 nescio, utrum aliquis earn, me defuncto, sit 
 absoluturus. "If indeed this be his will, I 
 gainsay it not. But if He should chuse 
 rather that I should yet remain among you 
 at least long enough to settle the question 
 which I am revolving in my mind concern- 
 ing the origin of the Soul, I should take it 
 gratefully ; because I do not know whether 
 any one will be able to determine it, after 
 I am dead." He added, Ego quippe, si come- 
 dere possem, spero convalescere ; nam nihil 
 doloris in aliqua parte sentio, nisi quod las- 
 sescente .stomacho, ob cibum quern capere nequit, 
 totus deficio. * " If I could but eat, I might 
 
 EADMER. 
 
 hope to recover, for I feel no pain in any 
 part, except that as my stomach sinks for 
 lack of food, which it is unable to take, I am 
 failing all over." 
 
 The Saint must have been in a most satis- 
 factory state of self-sufficiency when he thus 
 reckoned upon his own ability for disposing 
 of a question which he thought it doubtful 
 whether any one who came after him would 
 be able to solve. All other appetite had 
 forsaken him ; but that for unprofitable spe- 
 culation and impossible knowledge clung to 
 him to the last ; so strong a relish had he 
 retained of the forbidden fruit : 
 
 Letting down buckets into empty wells, 
 And growing old in drawing nothing up ! f 
 
 So had the Saint lived beyond the allotted 
 term of three-score years and ten, and his 
 hand was still upon the windlass when the 
 hand of death was upon him. One of our 
 old Dramatists J represented a seven years' 
 apprenticeship to such a craft as sufficient 
 for bringing a man to a just estimate of it : 
 
 I was a scholar ; seven useful springs 
 Did I deflower in quotations 
 Of cross'd opinions 'bout the soul of man ; 
 The more I learnt, the more I learnt to doubt. 
 DELIGHT, my spaniel, slept, whilst I baused leaves, 
 Toss'd o'er the dunces, pored on the old print 
 Of titled words ; and still my spaniel slept. 
 Whilst I wasted lamp-oil, baited my flesh, 
 Shrunk up my veins : and still my spaniel slept. 
 And still I held converse with Zabarell, 
 Aquinas, Scotus, and the musty saw 
 Of antick Donate ; still my spaniel slept. 
 Still on went I ; first, an sit anima ? 
 Then an it were mortal ? O hold, hold ; at that 
 They're at brain-buffets, fell by the ears amain 
 Pell-mell together : still my spaniel slept. 
 Then whether 'twere corporeal, local, fixt, 
 Ex traduce, but whether'! had free will 
 Or no, hot Philosophers 
 Stood banding factions, all so strongly propt, 
 I staggered, knew not which was firmer part, 
 But thought, quoted, read, observed and pryed, 
 StufJt noting-books ; and still my spaniel slept. 
 At length he waked and yawn'd ; and by yon sky, 
 For aught I know he knew as much as I. 
 
 In a more serious mood than that of this 
 scholar, and in a humbler and holier state 
 of mind than belonged to the Saint, our 
 philosopher used to say, " little indeed does 
 
 t COWPER. J MARSTON. 
 
 Baisser, Fr., and in vulgar English " Buss," which is 
 the same as Bausc.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 333 
 
 it concern us, in this our mortal stage, to 
 inquire whence the spirit hath come, but 
 of what infinite concern is the consideration 
 whither is it going ! " 
 
 CHAPTER CXXXIL 
 
 
 
 DOCTOR CADOGAN. A REMARKABLE CASE OF 
 HEREDITARY LONGEVITY. REMARKS ON 
 THE ORDINARY TERM OF HUMAN LIFE. 
 
 Live well, and then how soon so e'er thou die, 
 Thou art of age to claim eternity. RANDOLPH. 
 
 DR. CADOGAN used to say that the life of 
 man is properly ninety years instead of three- 
 score and ten ; thirty to go up, thirty to 
 stand still, and thirty to go down. 
 
 Who told him so ? said Dr. Dove ; and 
 who made him better informed upon that 
 point than the Psalmist ? 
 
 Any one who far exceeded the ordinary 
 term, beyond which " our strength is but 
 labour and sorrow," was supposed by our 
 philosopher, to have contracted an obstinate 
 habit of longevity in some previous stage of 
 existence. Centenaries he thought must 
 have been ravens and tortoises ; and Henry 
 Jenkins, like Old Parr, could have been 
 nothing in his preceding state, but a toad in 
 a block of stone or in the heart of a tree. 
 
 Cardinal D'Armagnac, when on a visitation 
 in the Cevennes, noticed a fine old man 
 sitting upon the threshold of his own door 
 and weeping ; and as, like the Poet, he had 
 
 not often seen 
 
 A healthy man, a man full-grown, 
 Weep in the public roads, alone, 
 
 he went up to him, and asked wherefore he 
 was weeping ? The old man replied he 
 wept because his father had just beaten him. 
 The Cardinal, who was amazed to hear that 
 so old a man had a father still living, was 
 curious enough to inquire what he had 
 beaten him for : " because," said the old 
 man, " I passed by my grandfather without 
 paying my respects to him." The Cardinal 
 then entered the house that he might see 
 this extraordinary family, and there indeed 
 
 he saw both father and grandfather, the 
 former still a hale though a very aged man ; 
 the latter unable to move because of his 
 extreme age, but regarded by all about him 
 with the greatest reverence. 
 
 That the habit in this instance, as in most 
 others of the kind, should have been heredi- 
 tary, was what the Doctor would have 
 expected : good constitutions and ill habits 
 of body are both so; two things which 
 seldom co-exist, but this obstinate longevity, 
 as he called it, was proof both of the one 
 and the other. A remarkable instance of 
 hereditary longevity is noticed in the Statis- 
 tical Account of Arklow. A woman who 
 died at the age of an hundred and ten, 
 speaking of her children, said that her 
 youngest boy was eighty ; and that old boy 
 was living several years afterwards, when 
 the account was drawn up. The habit, 
 however, he thought, was likely in such 
 cases to correct itself and become weaker in 
 every generation. An ill habit he deemed 
 it, because no circumstances can render 
 extreme old age desirable : it cannot be so 
 in a good man, for his own sake ; nor in a 
 bad one for the sake of everybody con- 
 nected with him. On all accounts the ap- 
 pointed term is best, and the wise and pious 
 Mr. How has given us one cogent reason 
 why it is so. 
 
 " The viciousness of mankind," that excel- 
 lent person says, " occasioned the flood ; and 
 very probably God thought fit to drown the 
 world for these two reasons ; first to punish 
 the then living offenders ; and next to 
 prevent men's plunging into those prodigious 
 depths of impiety, for all future ages. For 
 if in the short term of life, which is now 
 allotted to mankind, men are capable of 
 being puffed up to such an insolent degree 
 of pride and folly, as to forget God and 
 their own mortality, his power and their own 
 weakness ; if a prosperity bounded by 
 three-score and ten years, (and what mortal's 
 prosperity, since the deluge, ever lasted so 
 long ?) can swell the mind of so frail a crea- 
 ture to such a prodigious size of vanity, 
 what boundaries could be set to his arro- 
 gance, if his life and prosperity, like that
 
 334 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 of the Patriarchs, were likely to continue 
 eight or nine hundred years together ? If 
 under thr/. existing circumstances of life, 
 men's passions can rise so high; if the present 
 short and uncertain enjoyments of the world 
 are able to occasion such an extravagant 
 pride, such unmeasurable ambition, such 
 sordid avarice, such barbarous rapine and 
 injustice, such malice and envy, and so 
 many other detestable things, which compose 
 the numerous train of vice, how then 
 would the passions have flamed, and to 
 what a monstrous stature would every vice 
 have grown, if those enjoyments which pro- 
 voked and increased them were of eight 
 or nine hundred years' duration ? If eternal 
 happiness and eternal punishment are able 
 to make no stronger impressions upon 
 men's minds, so near at hand, it may well 
 be imagined that at so great a distance, 
 they would have made no impression at all ; 
 that eternal happiness would have been 
 entirely divested of its allurements, and 
 eternal misery of its terrors ; and the Great 
 Creator would have been deprived of that 
 obedience and adoration, which are so justly 
 due to him from his creatures. Thus, the 
 inundation of vice has in some measure, by 
 the goodness of God, been prevented by an 
 inundation of water. That which was the 
 punishment of one generation may be said 
 to have been the preservation of all those 
 which have succeeded. For if life had not 
 been thus clipped, one Tiberius, one Caligula, 
 one Nero, one Louis XIV. had been suffi- 
 cient to have destroyed the whole race of 
 mankind ; each of whose lives had they been 
 ten times as long, and the mischiefs they 
 occasioned multiplied by that number, it 
 might easily be computed how great a plague 
 one such long-lived monster would have 
 been to the world." 
 
 Reflect, reader, upon this extract. The 
 reasoning is neither fantastic, nor far- 
 fetched ; but it will probably be as new to 
 you as it was to me, when I met with it in 
 Mr. How's Devout Meditations. The re- 
 publication of that book is one of those good 
 works for which this country is beholden to 
 the late excellent Bishop Jebb. Mr. Hether- 
 
 ington in his very original and able treatise 
 upon the Fullness of Time, has seen this 
 subject in the same point of view. He says 
 " Even our three-score and ten years, broken 
 and uncertain as that little span is, can de- 
 lude us into the folly of putting death and 
 its dread reckoning far from us, as if we 
 were never to die, and might therefore neg- 
 lect any preparation for the after judgment. 
 But if we were to see before us the prospect 
 of a life of one thousand years, we should 
 doubtless regard death as a bugbear in- 
 deed, and throw off all the salutary restraint 
 which the fear of it now exercises. Suppose 
 our tendencies to every kind of sinful in- 
 dulgence as strong as at present, with the 
 prospect of such lengthened enjoyment and 
 immunity from danger, and we may easily 
 imagine with what hundred-fold eagerness 
 we should plunge into all kinds of enormity, 
 and revel in the wildest licentiousness. But 
 this is the very consummation to which the 
 race of Adam had reached, when 'God 
 looked on the earth, and behold it was cor- 
 rupt and filled with violence ;' and God 
 determined to destroy the earth with its 
 inhabitants." 
 
 A remark of Brantome's may be quoted 
 as the curious confirmation of a pious man's 
 opinion by a thoroughly corrupt one. It 
 occurs in his Discourse upon the Emperor 
 Charles the Fifth. U faut certes confesser, 
 he says, comme jouy dire une fois a un 
 vieux Capitaine Espagnol, que si ce grand 
 Empereur eust ete immortel, ou settlement de 
 cent ans bien sain et dispos, il auroit este par 
 guerre le vray Fleau du Monde, tant il estoit 
 frappe d'ambition, si jamais Empereur le 
 fut. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXXm. 
 
 MORE THOUGHTS CONCERNING LIFE, DEATH, 
 AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 Clericus es ? legito fuse. Laicus? legilo ista It enter, 
 Crede mihi, invenies hie quod uterque volet . 
 
 D. DU-TR. MED. 
 
 IF we look to the better part of the human 
 race as well as the worse, with regard to
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 335 
 
 them also the ordinary term of human life 
 will be found the best that could have been 
 appointed both for themselves and for the 
 purposes of society, the wisdom and the 
 goodness of the ways of Providence becom- 
 ing evident in this, as in all other things 
 upon which our limited faculties are capable 
 of forming a comprehensive judgment. 
 
 The term is long enough for all we have 
 to learn. Madame de Sevigne said spor- 
 tively, that she should be a very wise person 
 if she could but live about two hundred 
 years : je tache tons les jours a profiter de 
 mes reflexions ; et si je pouvois vivre seule- 
 ment deux cents ans, il me semble queje serois 
 une personne bien admirable. This the Doctor 
 thought might hold good in the case of 
 Madame de Sevigne herself, and of all other 
 persons who regarded the acquirement of 
 information as an amusement, or at most an 
 accomplishment ; " One small head might 
 carry all they knew," though their lives 
 should be prolonged to the length of ante- 
 diluvian old age. But in his opinion it would 
 be otherwise with those who devoted them- 
 selves to the pursuit of knowledge, for the 
 purpose of storing their own minds, and 
 enabling themselves to instruct their fellow 
 creatures. For although the mind would 
 retain its faculties unimpaired for a length 
 of time in proportion to the greater length 
 of life, it by no means follows that its capa- 
 city would be enlarged. Horace Walpole 
 lived forty years after he had said " my 
 mould has taken all its impressions, and can 
 receive no more. I must grow old upon the 
 stock I have." It is indeed highly probable 
 that the most industrious students for some 
 time before they reach the confines of seni- 
 lity forget as much as they learn. A short 
 life is long enough for making us wise to 
 salvation, if we will but give our hearts to 
 the wisdom which is from above: and this is 
 the one thing needful. 
 
 There are some, however, who in their 
 eulogistic and extravagant lamentations 
 seem to have thought no lease long enough 
 for the objects of their admiration. A certain 
 John Fellows published an elegy on the 
 death of the Beverend John Gill, D.D. 
 
 This learned Doctor in Dissent died at a 
 good old age ; nevertheless the passionate 
 mourner in rhyme considered his death as a 
 special mark of the Almighty's displeasure, 
 and exclaimed, 
 
 How are the mighty fallen ! Lord when will 
 Thine anger cease ? The great, the learned Gill 
 Now pale and breathless lies 1 
 
 Upon which a reviewer not improperly 
 remarked that without dwelling upon the 
 presumption of the writer, he could not but 
 notice the folly of thus lamenting, as though 
 it were an untimely stroke, the natural de- 
 parture of a venerable old man of near 
 eighty. "Was this," said he, "sufficient 
 cause for raising such an outcry in Zion, 
 and calling on her sons and daughters to 
 weep and wail as if the Day of Judgment 
 were come." 
 
 Nothing, however, in former times excited 
 so great a sensation in the small world of 
 Xoncons as the death of one of their Divines. 
 Their favourite poet Dr. Watts wished 
 when the Beverend Mr. Gouge died that he 
 could make the stones hear and the rocks 
 weep, 
 
 And teach the Seas and teach the Skies 
 
 Waitings and sobs and sympathies. 
 
 Heaven was impatient of our crimes, 
 
 And sent his minister of death 
 To scourge the bold rebellion of the times, 
 
 And to demand our prophet's breath. 
 
 He came commissioned for the fates 
 
 Of awful Mead and charming Bates : 
 
 There he essay'd the vengeance first, 
 Then took a dismal aim, and brought GREAT GOCOB to dust. 
 GREAT GOUGE to dust ! how doleful Is the sound ! 
 How vast the stroke is ! and how wide the wound ! 
 
 Sion grows weak and England poor ; 
 
 Nature herself with all her store 
 Can furnish such a pomp for death no more. 
 
 This was pretty well for a threnodial 
 flight. But Dr. Watts went farther. When 
 Mr. How should die, (and How was then 
 seventy years of age,) he thought it would 
 be time that the world should be at an end, 
 and prayed that it might be so. 
 
 Eternal God ! command his stay ! 
 
 Stretch the dear months of his delay ; 
 O we could wish his age were one immortal day t 
 
 But when the flaming chariot's come 
 And shining guards to attend thy Prophet home, 
 
 Amidst a thousand weeping eyes, 
 Send an Elisha down, a soul of equal size ; 
 Or burn this worthiest globe, and take la to the akitt !
 
 336 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 What would the Dissenters have said if a 
 clerical poet had written in such a strain upon 
 the decease of a Bishop or Archbishop ? 
 
 We pray in the Litany to be delivered 
 from sudden death. Any death is to be 
 deprecated which should find us unprepared : 
 but as a temporal calamity with more reason 
 might we pray to be spared from the misery 
 of an infirm old age. It was once my 
 fortune to see a frightful instance of extreme 
 longevity, a woman who was nearly in her 
 hundredth year. Her sight was greatly 
 decayed, though not lost ; it was very dif- 
 ficult to make her hear, and not easy then 
 to make her understand what was said, 
 though when her torpid intellect was 
 awakened she was, legally, of sane mind. 
 She was unable to walk, or to assist herself 
 in any way. Her neck hung in such wrinkles 
 that it might almost be likened to a turkey's ; 
 and the skin of her face and of her arms 
 was cleft like the bark of an oak, as rough, 
 and almost of as dark a colour. In this 
 condition, without any apparent suffering, 
 she passed her time in a state between 
 sleeping and waking, fortunate that she 
 could thus beguile the wearisomeness of 
 such an existence. 
 
 Instances of this kind are much rarer in 
 Europe than in tropical climates. Negresses 
 in the West Indies sometimes attain an age 
 which is seldom ascertained because it is far 
 beyond living memory. They outlive all 
 voluntary power, and their descendants of 
 the third or fourth generation carry them 
 out of their cabins into the open air, and 
 lay them, like logs, as the season may re- 
 quire, in the sunshine, or in the shade. 
 Methinks if Mecaenas had seen such an 
 object, he would have composed a palinode 
 to those verses in which he has perpetuated 
 his most pitiable love for life. A woman 
 in New Hampshire, North America, had 
 reached the miserable age of 102, when one 
 day as some people were visiting her, the 
 bell tolled for a funeral ; she burst into tears 
 and said, "Oh when will the bell toll for me! 
 It seems as if it never would toll for me ! 
 I am afraid that I shall never die ! " This 
 reminds me that I have either read, or 
 
 heard, an affecting story of a poor old woman 
 in England, very old, and very poor, 
 who retained her senses long after the body 
 had become a weary burden ; she too when 
 she heard the bell toll for a funeral used to 
 weep, and say she was afraid God had 
 forgotten her ! Poor creature, ignorantly 
 as she spake, she had not forgotten Him ; 
 and such impatience will not be accounted 
 to her for a sin. 
 
 These are extreme cases, as rare as they 
 are mournful. Life indeed is long enough 
 for what we have to suffer, as well as what 
 we have to learn ; but it was wisely said by 
 an old Scottish Minister (I wish I knew his 
 name, for this saying ought to have im- 
 mortalised it,) " Time is short ; and if 
 your cross is heavy you have not far to 
 carry it." 
 
 Chi ha travaglio, in pace ilporti : 
 Dolce e Dio, se il mondo e amaro. 
 Sappta I'uom, che al Cielo I caro; 
 
 Abbiafede, I aura conforti.* 
 
 Were the term shorter it would not suffice 
 for the development of those moral quali- 
 ties which belong peculiarly to the latter 
 stage of life ; nor could the wholesome 
 influence which age exercises over the young 
 in every country where manners are not so 
 thoroughly corrupted as to threaten the dis- 
 solution of society, be in any other manner 
 supplied. 
 
 II me semble que le mat physique attendrit 
 autant que le mal moral endurcit le coeur, said 
 Lord Chesterfield, when he was growing 
 old, and suffering under the infirmities of 
 a broken constitution. Affliction in its 
 lightest form, with the aid of time, had 
 brought his heart into this wholesome state. 
 
 OfigliuoF d'Adam, grida Natura, 
 Onde i tornienti? lo vifara tranquilli, 
 Se voi non rebellate alia mia legge.t 
 
 There is indeed a tranquillity which Nature 
 brings with it as duly toward the close of 
 life, as it induces sleep at the close of day. 
 We may resist the salutary influence in both 
 cases, and too often it is resisted, at the cost 
 of health in the one, and at a still dearer 
 
 * MAGGI. 
 
 t CBIABREKA.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 337 
 
 cost in the other : but if we do this, we do 
 it wilfully, the resistance is our own act and 
 deed, it is our own error, our own fault, 
 our sin, and we must abide the consequences. 
 The greatest happiness to which we can 
 attain in this world is the peace of God. 
 Ask those who have attained the height of 
 their ambition, whether in the pursuit of 
 wealth, or power, or fame, if it be not so ? 
 Ask them in their sane mind and serious 
 hours, and they will confess that all else is 
 vanity. 
 
 Fond man, that looks on earth for happiness, 
 And here lotig seeks what here is never found ! 
 
 This His own peace, which is his last and 
 crowning gift, our Heavenly Father reserves 
 for us in declining life, when we have earned 
 our discharge from its business and its 
 cares ; and He prepares us for it by the 
 course of nature which he has appointed. 
 
 O all the good we hope, and all we see, 
 That Thee we know and love, comes from Thy love and 
 Thee. 
 
 Hear, reader, the eloquent language of Adam 
 Littleton when speaking of one who has re- 
 ceived this gift : it occurs in a funeral 
 sermon, and the preacher's heart went with 
 his words. After describing the state of a 
 justified Christian, he rises into the following 
 strain : " And now what has this happy 
 person to do in this world any longer, 
 having his debts paid and his sins pardoned, 
 his God reconciled, his conscience quieted 
 and assured, his accusers silenced, his enemies 
 vanquished, the law satisfied, and himself 
 justified, and his Saviour glorified, and a 
 crown of Immortality, and a robe of righte- 
 ousness prepared for him ? What has he to 
 do here more, than to get him up to the top 
 of Pisgah and take a view of his heavenly 
 Canaan ; to stand upon the Confines of 
 Eternity, and in the contemplation of those 
 joys and glories, despise and slight the 
 vanities and troubles of this sinful and 
 miserable world; and to breathe after his 
 better life, and be preparing himself for his 
 change ; when he shall be called off to weigh 
 
 * PHINEAS FLETCHER. 
 
 anchor, and hoist sail for another world, 
 where he is to make discoveries of unutter- 
 able felicities, and inconceivable pleasures ? 
 
 " Oh what a happy and blest condition is 
 it to live, or to die in the midst of such 
 gracious deliverances and glorious assur- 
 ances; with this fastening consideration to 
 boot, that ' neither life nor death, nor things 
 present, nor things to come, nor any creature 
 is able to separate him from the love of God, 
 which is in Jesus Christ his Lord ! ' " 
 
 CHAPTER CXXXIV. 
 
 A TRANSITION, AN ANECDOTE, AN APO- 
 STROPHE, AND A PUN, PUNNET, OR PUN- 
 DIGR1ON. 
 
 Est brevftate opus, tit cvrrat sententia, neu se 
 
 Impcdiat verbis lassos onerantibus aures ; 
 
 Et germane upus est, modo trisii, sce-pe jocoso. HORACE. 
 
 THE Reader is now so far acquainted with 
 the Doctor and his bride elect, (for we are 
 still in the Interim,) he knows so much 
 of the birth, parentage, and education of 
 both, so much of their respective characters, 
 his way of thinking and her way of life, that 
 we may pass to another of those questions 
 propounded in the second post-initial chap- 
 ter. 
 
 The minister of a very heterodox con- 
 gregation in a certain large city, accosted 
 one of his friends one day in the street with 
 these words, which were so characteristic 
 and remarkable that it was impossible not 
 to remember and repeat them, " I am con- 
 sidering whether I shall marry or keep a 
 horse." He was an eccentric person, as 
 this anecdote may show ; and his inspirited 
 sermons (I must not call them inspired) were 
 thought in their style of eloquence and sub- 
 limity to resemble Klopstock's Odes. 
 
 No such dubitation could ever have en- 
 tered the Doctor's head. Happy man, he 
 had already one of the best horses in the 
 world: (Forgive me, O Shade of Nobs in 
 thine Elysian pastures, that I have so long 
 delayed thy eulogy !) and in Deborah
 
 338 
 
 THE DOCTOR, 
 
 he was about to have one of the best of 
 wives. 
 
 If he had hesitated between a horse and a 
 wife, he would have deserved to meet with a 
 Grey Mare. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXXV. 
 
 REGINALD HBEB. A MISTAKE OBVIATED, 
 WHICH MIGHT OTHERWISE EASILY BE MADE. 
 
 Perhaps some Gull, as witty as a Goose, 
 Says with a coy skew look, " it's pretty, pretty ! 
 
 But yet that so much wit he should dispose 
 For so small purpose, faith," saith he, " 'tis pity ! " 
 DAMES OF HEREFORD. 
 
 WHO was Nobs ? 
 
 Nobs, I may venture to affirm, is not 
 mentioned by Reginald Heber. I have 
 never had an opportunity of ascertaining 
 the fact by a careful examination of his 
 volumes, but the inquiries which it has 
 been in my power to make have led to this 
 conclusion. Judicious readers will, I hope, 
 acknowledge, that in consequence of the 
 scrupulous care with which I guard against 
 even the appearance of speaking positively 
 upon subjects whereon there may be any 
 reasonable doubt, I am, comparatively with 
 most authors, superlatively correct. 
 
 Now as Reginald Heber must have seen 
 Nobs, and having seen could not but have 
 remarked him, and having remarked must 
 also have perceived how remarkable he was 
 for all the outward and visible signs of a 
 good horse, this omission is to be lamented. 
 A culpable omission it must not be called, 
 because it was not required that he should 
 mention him; but it could not have been 
 considered as hors d'ceuvre to have noticed 
 his surpassing merits, merits which Reginald 
 Heber could have appreciated, and which 
 no one perhaps could have described so 
 well ; for of Nobs it may veritably be said 
 that he was a horse 
 
 tanlo buono e bello 
 Che chi voleste dir le lodi sue, 
 Bisognarebbe haver un gran cerveUo, 
 Bisognarebbe un capo come un but.* 
 
 * VARCHI. 
 
 Perhaps some captious reader may sup- 
 pose that he has here detected a notable 
 error in my chronology. Nobs, he may say, 
 was made dog's-meat before Reginald Heber 
 was born, or at least before he had ex- 
 changed his petticoats for the garb-mascu- 
 line, denominated galligaskins in philippic 
 verse. 
 
 Pardon me, reader; the mistake is on 
 your part ; and you have committed two in 
 this your supposition. Mistakes indeed, like 
 misfortunes, seldom come single. 
 
 First, it is a mistake, and what, if it were 
 not altogether inconsiderate, would be a 
 calumnious one, to suppose that Nobs 
 ever was made dog's-meat. The Doctor had 
 far too much regard for his good horse, to 
 let his remains be treated with such indignity. 
 He had too much sense of obligation and 
 humanity to part with an old dumb servant 
 when his strength began to fail, and consign 
 him to the hard usage which is the common 
 lot of these poor creatures, in this, in this 
 respect, hard-hearted and wicked nation. 
 Nobs, when his labour was past, had for the 
 remainder of his days the run of the fields 
 at Thaxted Grange. And when, in due 
 course of nature, he died of old age, instead 
 of being sent to the tanners and the dogs, 
 he became, like " brave Percy " food for 
 worms. A grave was dug, wherein he was 
 decently deposited, with his shoes on, and 
 Barnaby and his master planted a horse- 
 chesnut on the spot. Matthew Montagu 
 and Montagu Matthew ought to have visited 
 it in joint pilgrimage. 
 
 Hadst thou been a bay horse, Nobs, it 
 would have been a bay-tree instead. But 
 though the tree which was thy monument 
 was deciduous, and has perhaps been doomed 
 to fall by some irreverent or ignorant hand, 
 thy honours are perennial. 
 
 Secondly, the captious reader is mistaken 
 in supposing me to have spoken of Bishop 
 Heber, that Heber, who if he had been a 
 Romish Bishop would already have been 
 Saint Reginald by the courtesy of Rome, as 
 in due time he must have been by right of 
 canonisation. Sir Edward Lloyd would 
 smile at such a mistake. So would a York-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 339 
 
 shire or a Shropshire Genealogist. I am 
 not enough of one to know in what degree 
 the two Reginalds were related; but that 
 they were of the same family is apparent, 
 and the elder, who is of the equestrian order 
 of Authors and ought to have taken the 
 name of Philip, was contemporary with the 
 Doctor. He published yearly lists of horse 
 matches run from 1753 to 1758, I know 
 not how much longer. If such registers as 
 his had been preserved of the Olympic 
 Games, precious would they be to historians 
 and commentators, examining Masters, and 
 aspirant Under-Graduates. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXXVI. 
 
 THE PEDIGREE AND BIRTH OP NOBS, GIVEN 
 IN REPLY TO THE FIRST QUERY IN THE 
 SECOND CHAPTER P. I. 
 
 Theo. Look to my Horse, I pray you, well. 
 
 Diego. He shall, Sir. 
 
 Inc. Oh ! how beneath his rank and call was that now ! 
 
 Your Horse shall be entreated as becomes 
 
 A Horse of fashion, and his inches. 
 
 BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. 
 
 WHO was Nobs ? 
 
 A troop of British cavalry which had 
 served on the continent was disbanded in 
 the City of York, and the horses were sold. 
 Their commander Sir Robert Clayton was a 
 wealthy man, and happening to be a noble- 
 minded man also, he could not bear to 
 think that his old fellow campaigners, who 
 had borne brave men to battle, should be 
 ridden to dejath as butchers' hacks, or 
 worked in dung-carts till they became dog's 
 meat. So he purchased a piece of ground 
 upon Knavesmire heath, and turned out the 
 old horses to have their run there for life. 
 There may be persons living who remember 
 to have heard of this honourable act, and 
 the curious circumstance which has pre- 
 served it from being forgotten. For once 
 these horses were grazing promiscuously 
 while a summer storm gathered, and when 
 the first lightnings flashed from the cloud, 
 and the distant thunder began to roll ; but 
 presently, as if they supposed these fires and 
 sounds to be the signal of approaching 
 
 battle, they were seen to get together and 
 form in line, almost in as perfect order as 
 if they had had their old masters upon their 
 backs. 
 
 One of these old soldiers was what the 
 Spaniards with the gravity peculiar to their 
 language call a Caballo Padre; or what 
 some of our own writers, with a decorum 
 not less becoming, appellate an Entire 
 horse ; or what a French interpreter ac- 
 companying an Englishman to obtain a 
 passport wherein the horse as well as the 
 rider was to be described, denominated un 
 cheval de pierre to the astonishment of the 
 clerks in the office, whose difficulty was not 
 at all removed by the subsequent definition 
 of the English applicant, which the said 
 interpreter faithfully rendered thus, un cheval 
 de pierre est un cheval qui couvre les officiers 
 municipaux. He had found his way in a 
 Cossack regiment from the Steppes of Tar- 
 tary to the plains of Prussia ; had run 
 loose from a field of battle in which his 
 master was killed, and passing from hand to 
 hand had finally been sold by a Jew into 
 the service of his Majesty King George II 
 In the course of this eventful life he had 
 lost his . Sclavonic name, and when he en- 
 tered the British regiment was naturalised 
 by that of Moses in honour of his late pos- 
 sessor. 
 
 It so happened that a filly by name Miss 
 Jenny had been turned out to recover from 
 a sprain in a field sufficiently near Knaves- 
 mire heath for a Houyhnhnm voice to be 
 within hearing of Houyhnhnm ears. In this 
 field did Miss Jenny one day beguile the 
 solitude by exclaiming " heigh-ho for a hus- 
 band ! " an exclamation which exists in the 
 Equine as well as in the English language. 
 It is also found in the Feline tongue, but 
 Grimalkin has set it to very unpleasant 
 music. Moses heard the strain and listened 
 to the voice of love. The breezes did for 
 him what many a lover has in vain re- 
 quested them to do in sonnet, and in 
 elegy, and in song ; they wafted back his 
 sympathetic wishes, and the wooing was 
 carried on at a quarter of a mile distance : 
 after which the Innamorato made no more
 
 340 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 of hedge and ditch than Jupiter was wont 
 to do of a brazen Tower. Goonhilly in 
 Cornwall was indebted for its once famous 
 breed of horses to a Barb, which was turned 
 loose (like Moses) by one of the Erisey 
 family, the Erisey estate joining the down. 
 A few days afterwards, Miss Jenny, having 
 perfectly recovered of her sprain, was pur- 
 chased by Dr. Dove. The alteration which 
 took place in her shape was so little that 
 it excited no suspicion in any person : a 
 circumstance which will not appear extra- 
 ordinary to those who remember that the 
 great Mr. Taplin himself having once booked 
 his expectations of a colt, kept the mare 
 eleven lunar months and a fortnight by 
 the Almanack, and then parted with her, 
 after taking the opinion of almost every 
 farmer and breeder in the country, upon an 
 universal decision that she had no foal in 
 her ; ten days afterwards the mare showed 
 cause why the decision of the judges should 
 be reversed. Those persons, I say, who 
 know the supereminent accuracy of Mr. 
 Taplin, and that in matters of this kind 
 everything passed under his own eye, (for 
 he tells you that it was a trust which he 
 never delegated to another), will not be so 
 much surprised as the Doctor was at what 
 happened on the present occasion. The 
 Doctor and Nicholas were returning from 
 Adwick-in-the-Street where they had been 
 performing an operation. It was on the 
 eleventh of June ; the day had been un- 
 usually hot ; they were overtaken by a thun- 
 derstorm, and took shelter in a barn. The 
 Doctor had no sooner alighted than Miss 
 Jenny appeared greatly distressed; and to 
 the utter astonishment both of Dr. Dove 
 and Nicholas, who could scarcely believe 
 their own eyes, there was almost as soon 
 as they could take off the saddle what I 
 once saw called in the letter of a waiting 
 gentlewoman dishion to the family. To 
 express the same event in loftier language, 
 
 S' uri rxla.yx.itav inr' A- 
 
 'E; 
 
 lu the original "!<*; takes the place of Nobs. Cf. 
 Olyrap. vi. 72. 
 
 It is for the gratification of the learned 
 Thebans who will peruse this history that I 
 quote Pindar here. 
 
 INTERCHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE AUTHOR RELATES SOME ANECDOTES, 
 REFERS TO AN OPINION EXPRESSED BY 
 A CRITIC ON THE PRESENT OPUS, AND 
 DESCANTS THEREON. 
 
 Every man can say B to a battledore, and write in praise 
 of virtue and the seven liberal sciences ; thrash corn out 
 of full sheaves, and fetch water out of the Thames. But 
 out of dry stubble to make an after-harvest, and a plenti- 
 ful crop without sowing, and wring juice out of a flint, 
 that is Pierce a God's name, and the right trick of a work- 
 man. NASH. 
 
 THERE is an anecdote related of the Speaker 
 in one of Queen Elizabeth's Parliaments, 
 who when the Queen, during a session in 
 which small progress had been made in the 
 public business, asked him what the House 
 had got through, made answer, " May it 
 please your Majesty, eight weeks." In like 
 manner, if it be asked what I have got 
 through in the prosecution of this my Opus, 
 I reply, " May it please your Readership, 
 four volumes." 
 
 This brings to my recollection another 
 anecdote, which, though not matter of history 
 like the former, is matter of fact, and oc- 
 curred in the good town of Truro. A lady 
 in that town hired a servant, who at the 
 time of hiring thought herself bound to let 
 the lady know that she had once " had a 
 misfortune." When she had been some 
 time in service, she spoke of something to 
 her Mistress, inadvertently, as having hap- 
 pened just after the birth of her first child. 
 " Your first ! " said the Lady ; " why how 
 many have you had then ? " " Oh, Ma'am," 
 said she, "I've had four." "Four!" ex- 
 claimed the Mistress ; " why you told me you 
 had had but one. However I hope you mean 
 to have no more." " Ma'am," replied the wo- 
 man, "that must be as it may please God." 
 
 "We are," says Lord Camelford, " as it 
 pleases God, and sometimes as it dis- 
 pleases him."
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 341 
 
 The reflection is for every one ; but the 
 anecdote is recommended to the special 
 notice of a Critic on the Athenaeum estab- 
 lishment, who in delivering his opinion upon 
 the third volume of this Opus, pronounced 
 it to be " clear to him," that the Author 
 had " expended" on the two former " a 
 large portion of his intellectual resources, no 
 less than of his lengthy common-place book." 
 
 The aforesaid Critic has also pronounced 
 that the Opus entitled The Doctor might 
 have been and ought to have been a Novel. 
 Might have been is one consideration, ought 
 to have been is another, and whether it 
 would have been better that it should have 
 been, is a third ; but without discussing 
 either of these propositions, because as 
 Calderon says, 
 
 Sobre impossible t yf alias 
 proposiciones, no hat 
 argumento ; 
 
 without, I say, inquiring into what might, 
 would, could, or should have been, neither 
 of which imports of the preterperfect tense, 
 optative, potential or subjunctive, are suit- 
 able to the present case, the Author of this 
 Opus replies to the aforesaid Critic's asser- 
 tion that the Opus might have been a Novel, 
 That, Sir, must have been as it pleased ME. 
 When Corporal Trim in one of his many 
 attempts to begin the immortal story of the 
 King of Bohemia and his Seven Castles, 
 called that King unfortunate, and Uncle 
 Toby compassionately asked " was he unfor- 
 tunate then?" the Corporal replied, the 
 King of Bohemia, an' please your honour 
 was unfortunate, as thus, that taking great 
 pleasure and delight in navigation and all 
 sort of sea affairs, and there happening 
 throughout the whole Kingdom of Bohemia 
 to be no sea-port town whatever, " How 
 the Deuce should there, Trim ? cried my 
 Uncle Toby ; for Bohemia being totally in- 
 land, it could have happened no otherwise." 
 " It might, said Trim, if it had pleased 
 God." "I believe not, replied my Uncle 
 Toby, after some pause for being inland, 
 as I said, and having Silesia and Moravia to 
 the East ; Lusatia and Upper Saxony to the 
 North ; Franconia to the West, and Bavaria 
 
 to the South, Bohemia could not have been 
 propelled to the sea, without ceasing to be 
 Bohemia, nor could the sea, on the other 
 hand, have come up to Bohemia, without 
 overflowing a great part of Germany, and 
 destroying millions of unfortunate inhabit- 
 ants who could make no defence against 
 it, which would bespeak, added my Uncle 
 Toby, mildly, such a want of compassion in 
 Him who is the Father of it, that, I 
 think, Trim the thing could have hap- 
 pened no way." 
 
 Were I to. say of a Homo on any estab- 
 lishment whatsoever, political, commercial 
 or literary, public or private, legal or eccle- 
 siastical, orthodox or heterodox, military or 
 naval, I include them all that no indivi- 
 dual in any may fancy the observation was 
 intended for himself and so take it in snuff 
 
 (a phrase of which I would explain* the 
 origin if I could), and moreover that no 
 one may apply to himself the illustration 
 which is about to be made, I use the most 
 generic term that could be applied, Were 
 I to say of any Homo (and how many are 
 there of whom it might be said !) that he 
 might have been whelped or foaled, instead 
 of having been born, no judicious reader 
 would understand me as predicating this to 
 be possible, but as denoting an opinion that 
 such an animal might as well have been a 
 quadruped as what he is ; and that for any 
 use which he makes of his intellect, it might 
 have been better for society if he had gone 
 on four legs and carried panniers. 
 
 " There stands the Honourable Baronet, 
 hesitating between two bundles of opinions" 
 
 said a certain noble Lord of a certain 
 County Member in the course of an ani- 
 mated debate in the House of Commons on 
 a subject now long since forgotten. I will 
 not say of any Homo on any establishment 
 that his fault is that of hesitating too long 
 or hazarding too little ; but I will say of 
 any such hypothetical Homo as might better 
 
 * The explanation is probably to be drawn from the 
 idea expressed in the words of Horace: Nato suspendis 
 adunco. Nasibus uti Formido. Cf. 1 Sat. vi. 5. ; 1 Epist. 
 xix. 45. Doering quotes the German phrase " liber einen 
 die Nase riimpfen. For examples see Nare's Gloss, in v.
 
 342 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 have been foaled, that I wish his panniers 
 had supplied him with better bundles to 
 choose of. 
 
 " How," says Warburton, " happened it 
 in the definitions of Man, that reason is 
 always made essential to him ? Nobody ever 
 thought of making goodness so. And yet it 
 is certain that there are as few reasonable 
 men as there are good. To tell you my 
 mind, I think Man might as properly be de- 
 fined, an animal to whom a sword is essential, 
 as one to whom reason is essential. For 
 there are as few that can, and yet fewer that 
 dare, use the one as the other." And yet, 
 he might have added, too many that misuse 
 both. 
 
 The aforesaid Critic on the Athenaeum 
 establishment spoke with as little considera- 
 tion as Trim, when he said that the Opus 
 might have been a novel, implying the 
 while if it had so pleased the Author; and 
 I make answer advisedly like my Uncle 
 Toby in saying that it could not have pleased 
 me. 
 
 The moving accident is not my trade ; 
 To freeze the blood I have no ready arts.* 
 
 Wherefore should I write a novel? There 
 is no lack of novels nor of novel-writers in 
 these days, good, bad, and indifferent. Is 
 there not Mr. James, who since the demise 
 of Sir Walter, is by common consent justly 
 deemed King of the historical Novelists ? 
 And is there not Mrs. Bray, who is as pro- 
 perly the Queen ? Would the Earl of Mul- 
 grave be less worthily employed in writing 
 fashionable tales upon his own views of mo- 
 rality, than he is in governing Ireland as he 
 governs it ? Is there any season in which 
 some sprigs of nobility and fashion do not 
 bring forth hothouse flowers of this kind ? 
 And if some of them are rank or sickly, 
 there are others (tell us, Anne Grey ! are 
 there not ?) that are of delicate penciling, 
 rich colours, and sweet scent. What are 
 the Annuals but schools for Novelists, male 
 and female ? and if any lady in high life has 
 conceived a fashionable tale, and when the 
 critical time arrives wishes for a temporary 
 
 * WORDSWORTH. 
 
 concealment, is not Lady Charlotte Bury 
 kindly ready to officiate as Sage Femme ? 
 
 The Critic was not so wide of the mark 
 in saying that this Opus ought to have been a 
 novel to have pleased him, being under- 
 stood. 
 
 Oh, like a book of sport thou'lt read me o'er ; 
 But there's more in me than thou understandest.f 
 
 And indeed, as Chapman says in his Com- 
 mentary on the Iliad, " where a man is un- 
 derstood there is ever a proportion between 
 the writer's wit and the writees, that I may 
 speak with authority, according to my old 
 lesson in philosophy, intellectus in ipsa in- 
 telligibilia transit." 
 
 Le role d'un auteur est un role assez vain, 
 says Diderot, tfest celui d'un homme qui se 
 croit en etat de dormer des leqons au public. Et 
 le role du critique ? H est plus vain encore ; 
 c'est celui d'un homme qui se croit en etat de 
 donner des leqons d celui qui se croit en etat 
 d'en donner au public. ISauteur dit, Mes- 
 sieurs, ecoutez-moi, car je suis votre maitre. 
 Et le critique, (Test moi, Messieurs, qrfil 
 faut ecouter, car je suis le maitre de vos 
 maitres. 
 
 The Athenaeum Critic plays the Master 
 with me, and tops his part. " It is clear;" 
 he says, " from every page of this book that 
 the Author does not, in vulgar parlance, 
 think Small Beer of himself." Right, my 
 Master ? certainly I do not. I do not think 
 that the contents of this book would be truly 
 compared to small beer, which is either weak 
 and frisky, or weak and flat ; that they would 
 turn sour upon a sound, that is to say, an 
 orthodox stomach, or generate flatulence ex- 
 cept in an empty one. I am more inclined, 
 as my Master insinuates, to think Strong 
 Beer of myself, Cwrw, Burton, Audit 
 Ale, Old October, what in his par- 
 lance used to be called Stingo ; or Porter, 
 such as Thrale's Entire, and old Whitbread's, 
 in days when the ingredients came from the 
 malster and the hop merchant, not from the 
 Brewer's druggist. Or Cider, whether of 
 Herefordshire, Somersetshire, or Devonshire 
 growth, no matter ; Stire, Cokaghee, or Fox- 
 
 t TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 whelp, a beverage as much better than Cham- 
 pagne, as it is honester, wholesomer, and 
 cheaper. Or Perry, the Teignton-Squash. 
 These are right old English liquors, and I 
 like them all. Nay, I am willing if my Mas- 
 ter pleases, to think Metheglin of myself 
 also, though it be a Welsh liquor, for there 
 is Welsh blood in my veins, and Metheglin 
 has helped to make it, and it is not the worse 
 for the ingredient. Moreover with especial 
 reference to the present Opus, there is this 
 reason why I should think Metheglin of my- 
 self, that Metheglin is made of honey, and 
 honey is collected from all the flowers of the 
 fields and gardens : and how should I have 
 been able to render this tribute to the Philo- 
 sopher of Doncaster, my true Master, if 
 I had not been busy as a bee in the fields 
 and gardens of literature, yea in the woods 
 and wilds also ? And in the orchards, for 
 have I not been plying early and late amongst 
 
 the orchard trees 
 
 Last left and earliest found by birds and bees ? * 
 
 Of Bees, however, let me be likened to a 
 Duinbledore, which Dr. Sonthey says is the 
 most goodnatured of God's Insects ; because 
 great must be the provocation that can ex- 
 cite me to use my sting. 
 
 My Master's mention of Small Beer, in 
 vulgar parlance Swipes, reminds me of Old 
 Tom of Oxford's Affectionate Condolence 
 with the Ultras, some years ago, whereby it 
 appears that he thought Small Beer , at 
 that time of some very great Patriots and 
 Queenites. 
 
 I see your noble rage too closely pent ; 
 I hear you Whigs and Radicals ferment, 
 Like close-cnrk'd bottles filled with fizzing barm. 
 
 Now, Gentlemen, whose stopper is the strongest ? 
 Whose eloquence will bottle-in the longest ? 
 
 Who'll first explode, I wonder, or who last ? 
 As weak small Beer is sure to fly the first, 
 Lo ! poor Grey Bennet hath already burst, 
 
 And daub'd with froth the Speaker as he past. 
 
 Who next '< Is't Lambton, weak and pert and brisk, 
 And spitting in one's face, like Ginger.frisk ? 
 
 Lord John, keep in thy cork, for Heaven's sake do ! 
 The strength and spirit of Champagne is thine, 
 Powers that will mellow down to generous wine ; 
 
 Thy premature explosion I should rue. 
 
 * EBENEZER ELLIOTT. 
 
 The Oxford Satirist thought Champagne 
 of Lord John in the reign of Queen Caro- 
 line. I think Champagne of him still, which 
 the Satirist assuredly does not, but we differ 
 in opinion upon this point only because we 
 differ concerning the merits of the wine so 
 called. I request him to accept the assu- 
 rance of my high consideration and good 
 will ; I shake hands with him mentally and 
 cordially, and entreat him to write more 
 songs, such as gladden the hearts of true 
 Englishmen. 
 
 Dr. Clarke says in a note to his Travels, 
 that Champagne is an artificial compound : 
 that " the common champagne wine drunk 
 in this country is made with green grapes 
 and sugar; and that the imitation of it, 
 with green gooseberries and sugar, is full as 
 salutary, and frequently as palatable." A 
 Frenchman who translated these Travels 
 remarks upon this passage thus, C'est sans 
 doute par un sentiment de patriotisme, et pour 
 degouter ses compatriotes du vin de Cham- 
 pagne, que le Docteur Clarke se permet de 
 hasarder de pareilles assertions. Croit-il que 
 le vin de Champagne se fasse avec du sucre 
 et des raisins verts, ou des groseilles, et quun 
 semblable melange puisse passer, meme en 
 Angleterre, pour un analogue des vins d"Ai et 
 d'Epernai? Dr. Clarke, as it became him 
 to do, inserted this remark in his next 
 edition, and said in reply to it, " It so hap- 
 pens that the author's information does not 
 at all depend upon any conjectures he may 
 have formed ; it is the result of inquiries 
 which he made upon the spot, and of posi- 
 tive information relative to the chemical 
 constituents ' des vins d"Ai et d'Epernai,' 
 from Messrs. Moett and Company, the prin- 
 cipal persons concerned in their fabrication. 
 It was in the town of Epernai, whither the 
 author repaired for information upon this 
 subject, that in answer to some written 
 questions proposed to Mons. Moett, the 
 following statement was given by that gen- 
 tleman touching the admission of sugar 
 into the composition of their wine : 
 
 Peut-etre regarderoit-on en Champagne 
 comme un indiscretion, la reponse a cette ques- 
 tion, puisque la revelation de ce qu'on appelle
 
 344 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 L.E SECRET DU PROPRIETA1RE pourroit nuire 
 a la reputation des vins de Champagne : mais 
 les homines instruits et eclaires doivent con- 
 noitre les faits et les causes, parcequ'ils savent 
 apprecier et en tirer lesjustes consequences. 
 
 H est tres vrai que dans les anne.es froides 
 oil pluvicuses, le raisin itayarit pas acquis 
 assez de maturite, ou ayant ete prive. de la 
 chaleur du soleil, les vins ifont plus cette 
 liqueur douce et aimable qui les characterise : 
 dans ce cos qiielques proprietaires y ont sup- 
 plee par I 'introduction dans lew vins d'une 
 liqueur tres eclair e, dont la base est neces- 
 sairement du sucre ; sa fabrication est un 
 secret; cette liqueur meslee en tres petites 
 quantites aux vins verts, corrige le vice de 
 I'annee, et leur donne absolument la meme 
 douceur que cette que procure le soleil dans 
 les annees chaudes, II s'est eleve en Cham- 
 pagne meme des frequentes querelles entre des 
 connoisseurs qui pretendoient pouvoir distin- 
 guer au gout la liqueur artificielle de celle qui 
 est naturelle; mais c'est une chimere. Le 
 sucre produit dans le raisin, comme dans toute 
 espece de fruit par le travail de la nature, est 
 toujours du sucre, comme celui que Tart pour- 
 roit y introduire, lorsque F intemperance des 
 saisons les en a prive. Nous nous sommes 
 plus tres souvent a mettre en defaut I 'expe- 
 rience de ces pretendus connoisseurs ; et il est 
 si rare de les voir rencontrer juste, que Ton 
 pent croire que c'est le hazard plus que leur 
 gout qui les a guide. 
 
 Having thus upon the best authority 
 shown that Champagne in unfavourable 
 years is doctored in the country, and leaving 
 the reader to judge how large a portion of 
 what is consumed in England is made from 
 the produce of our own gardens, I repeat 
 that I think Champagne of Lord John Rus- 
 sell, not such as my friend of Oxford 
 intended in his verses, but Gooseberry 
 Champagne, by no means brisk, and with a 
 very disagreeable taste of the Cork. 
 
 If the Oxford Satirist and I should 
 peradventure differ concerning Champagne, 
 we are not likely to differ now concern- 
 ing Lord John Russell. I am very well 
 assured that we agree in thinking of 
 his Lord Johnship as he is thought of in 
 
 South Devonshire. Nor shall we differ in 
 our notions of some of Lord John's Col- 
 leagues, and their left-handed friends. If he 
 were to work out another poem in the same 
 vein of satire, some of the Whole-hoggery 
 in the House of Commons he would desig- 
 nate by Deady, or Wet and Heavy, some 
 by weak tea, others by Blue-Ruin, Old Tom 
 which rises above Blue-Ruin to the tune of 
 threepence a glass and yet more fiery 
 than Old Tom, as being a fit beverage for 
 another Old one who shall be nameless, 
 Gin and Brimstone. 
 
 There is a liquor peculiar to Cornwall, 
 with which the fishermen regale, and which 
 because of its colour they call Mahogany, 
 being a mixture of two parts gin and one 
 part treacle, well beaten together. Ma- 
 hogany then may be the representative 
 liqueur of Mr. Charles Buller, the represen- 
 tative of a Cornish borough ; and for Sir 
 John Campbell there is Athol porridge, 
 which Boswell says is the counterpart of 
 Mahogany, but which Johnson thought must 
 be a better liquor, because being a similar 
 mixture of whiskey and honey, both its 
 component parts are better : qui non odit the 
 one, amet the other. 
 
 Mr. Sheil would put the Satirist in mind 
 of Whiskey " unexcised by Kings," and con- 
 sequently above proof. Mr. Roebuck of 
 Bitters, Mr. Joseph Hume of Ditch Water, 
 Mr. Lytton Bulwer of Pop, Mr. Ward of 
 Pulque, Mr. O'Connell of Aqua Tofana, and 
 Lord Palmerston of Parfait Amour. 
 
 Observe, good Reader, it was to bottled 
 Small Beer that the Oxford Satirist likened 
 Grey Bennet, not to Brown Stout, which is 
 a generous liquor having body and strength. 
 
 Hops and Turkeys, Carp and Beer, 
 Came into England all in one year, 
 
 and that year was in the reign of Henry VIII. 
 The Turkeys could not have come before 
 the discovery of America, nor the Beer be- 
 fore the introduction of the Hops Bottled 
 Beer we owe to the joint agency of Alexander 
 Nowell, Bishop Bonner, and Mr. Francis 
 Bowyer, afterwards Sheriff of London. 
 Alexander Nowell, Dean of St. Paul's,
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 345 
 
 A famous preacher in the halcyon days 
 Of Queen Elizabeth of endless praise, 
 
 was at the beginning of Queen Mary's cruel 
 reign Master of Westminster School. Izaak 
 Walton would have pronounced him a very 
 honest man from his picture at Brazen Nose 
 College (to which he was a great Benefactor), 
 inasmuch as he is there represented " with 
 his lines, hooks, and other tackling, lying in 
 a round on one hand, and his angles of 
 several sorts on the other." But, says Ful- 
 ler, whilst Nowell was catching of Fishes, 
 Bonner was catching of Nowell, and under- 
 standing who he was, designed him to the 
 shambles, whither he had certainly been 
 sent, had not Mr. Francis Bowyer, then a 
 London merchant, conveyed him upon the 
 seas. Nowell was fishing upon the Banks 
 of the Thames when he received the first 
 intimation of his danger, which was so press- 
 ing that he dared not go back to his own 
 house to make any preparation for his flight. 
 Like an honest angler he had taken with 
 him provision for the day ; and when in the 
 first year of England's deliverance he re- 
 turned to his own country and his own 
 haunts, he remembered that on the day of 
 his flight he had left a bottle of beer in a 
 safe place on the bank ; there he looked for 
 it, and " found it no bottle, but a gun, such 
 the sound at the opening thereof; and this," 
 says Fuller, " is believed (casualty is mother 
 of more inventions than industry), the 
 original of Bottled Ale in England." 
 
 Whatever my Master may think of me, 
 whether he may class me with Grey Ben- 
 net's weak and frothy, or Dean Nowell's 
 wholesome and strong, be the quality of the 
 liquor what it may, he certainly mistook the 
 capacity of the vessel, even if he allowed it 
 to be a Magnum Bonum or Scotch Pint. 
 Greatly was he mistaken when he supposed 
 that a large portion of my intellectual re- 
 sources was expended, and of my common- 
 place Book also. The former come from a 
 living spring, and the latter is like the urn 
 under a River God's arm. I might hint 
 also at that Tun which the Pfalzgraf Jo- 
 hannes Kasimir built at Heidelberg in the 
 year 1591, 
 
 Dessgleichen xu derselben zeft 
 War keines in der Christenheit : 
 
 but alas! it is now a more melancholy object 
 than the Palace to which it appertained, 
 for the ruins of that Palace are so beautiful, 
 that the first emotion with which you behold 
 them is that of unmingled pleasure: and 
 the tun is empty! My Master, however, 
 who imagines that my vat runs low, and is 
 likely to be drawn dry, may look at one of 
 the London Brewers' great casks. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXXVII. 
 
 DIFFERENCE OF OPINION BETWEEN THE 
 DOCTOR AND NICHOLAS CONCERNING THE 
 HIPPOGONT OR ORIGIN OF THE FOAL 
 DROPPED IN THE PRECEDING CHAPTER. 
 
 his birth day, the eleventh of June 
 
 When the Apostle Barnaby the bright 
 Unto our year doth give the longest light. 
 
 BEN JONSON. 
 
 " IT'S as fine a foal as ever was dropped," said 
 Nicholas; "but I should as soon thought 
 of dropping one myself! " 
 
 " If thou hadst, Nicholas," replied the 
 Doctor, "'twould have been a foal with longer 
 ears, and a cross upon the shoulders. But I 
 am heartily glad that it has happened to the 
 Mare rather than to thee ; for in the first 
 place thou wouldst hardly have got so well 
 through it, as, with all my experience, I 
 should have been at a loss how to have 
 rendered thee any assistance ; and secondly, 
 Nicholas, I should have been equally at a 
 loss how to account for the circumstance, 
 which certainly never could have been ac- 
 counted for in so satisfactory a manner. 
 The birth of this extraordinary foal supports 
 a fact which the wise ancients have attested, 
 and the moderns in their presumptuous 
 ignorance have been pleased to disbelieve : 
 it also agrees with a notion which I have 
 long been disposed to entertain. But had it 
 been thy case instead of the Mare's it would 
 have been to no purpose except to con- 
 tradict all facts and confound all notions. " 
 
 " As for that matter," answered Nicholas,
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 all my notions are struck in a heap. You 
 bought that Mare on the 29th-of July, by 
 this token that it was my birth-day, and I 
 said she would prove a lucky one. One, 
 two, three, four, five, six, 
 seven, eight, nine, ten, " he continued, 
 counting upon his fingers, " ten Kalendar 
 months, and to-day the eleventh of June ; 
 in all that time I'll be sworn she has never 
 been nearer a horse than to pass him on the 
 road. It must have been the Devil's doing, 
 and I wish he never did worse. However, 
 Master, I hope you'll sell him, for, in spite 
 of his looks, I should never like to trust my 
 precious limbs upon the back of such a 
 misbegotten beast." 
 
 " Efabegotten, Nicholas," replied the Doc- 
 tor; " wwbegotten, or rather begotten by 
 the winds, for so with every appearance 
 of probability we may fairly suppose him to 
 have been." 
 
 " The Winds ! " said Nicholas. He lifted 
 up the lids of his little eyes as far as he could 
 strain them, and breathed out a whistle of a 
 half minute long, beginning in C alt and 
 running down two whole octaves! 
 
 " It was common in Spain," pursued Dr. 
 Dove, " and consequently may have happened 
 in our less genial climate, but this is the 
 first instance that has ever been clearly ob- 
 served. I well remember," he continued, 
 " that last July was peculiarly fine. The 
 wind never varied more than from South 
 South East to South West ; the little rain 
 which fell descended in gentle, balmy, 
 showers, and the atmosphere never could 
 have been more full of the fecundating 
 principle." " 
 
 That our friend really attached any credit 
 to this fanciful opinion of the Ancients is 
 what I will not affirm, nor perhaps would 
 he himself have affirmed it. But Henry 
 More, the Platonist, Milton's friend, un- 
 doubtedly believed it. After quoting the 
 well-known passage upon this subject in the 
 Georgics, and a verse to the same effect from 
 the Punics, he adds, that you may not 
 suspect it " to be only the levity and credu- 
 lity of Poets to report such things, I can 
 inform you that St. Austin, and Solinus the 
 
 historian, write the same of a race of horses 
 
 I in Cappadocia. Nay, which is more to the 
 
 j purpose, Columella and Varro, men expert 
 
 in rural affairs, assert this matter for a most 
 
 certain and known truth." Pliny also 
 
 affirms it as an undoubted fact : the foals of 
 
 the Wind, he says, were exceedingly swift, 
 
 but short-lived, never outliving three years. 
 
 And the Lampougs of Sumatra, according 
 
 to Marsden, believe at this time that the 
 
 Island Engano is inhabited entirely by 
 
 females, whose progeny are all children of 
 
 the Wind. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXXVm. 
 
 DOUBTFUL PEDIGREE OF ECLIPSE. SHAKE- 
 SPEARE (N. B. NOT WILLIAM) AND OLD 
 
 MARSK. A PECULIARITY OF THE ENGLISH 
 LAW. 
 
 Lady Percy. But hear you, my Lord ! 
 Hotspur. What say'st thou, my lady ? 
 Lady Percy. What is it carries you away ? 
 Hotspur. Why my Horse, my love, my Horse. 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 AFTER having made arrangements with the 
 owner of the barn for the accommodation of 
 the Mare in-the-straw, the Doctor and Ni- 
 cholas pursued their way to Doncaster on foot, 
 the latter every now and then breaking out 
 into exclamations of the " Lord bless me ! " 
 and sometimes with a laugh of astonishment 
 annexing the Lord's name to a verb of op- 
 posite signification governing a neuter pro- 
 noun. Then he would cry, "Who would 
 have thought it ? Who'll believe it ? " and so 
 with interjections benedictory or maledic- 
 tory, applied indiscriminately to himself and 
 Miss Jenny and the foal, he gave vent to 
 his wonder, frequently, however, repeating 
 his doubts how the come-by-chance, as he 
 called it, would turn out. 
 
 A doubt to the same purport had come 
 across the Doctor ; for it so happened that 
 one of his theories bore very much in support 
 of Nicholas's unfavourable prepossession. 
 Eclipse was at that time in his glory ; and 
 Eclipse was in the case of those children who
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 347 
 
 are said by our Law to be more than ordi- 
 narily legitimate, tho' * he was not, like one 
 of these double legitimates, enabled at years of 
 discretion to choose for himself between the 
 two possible fathers. Whether Eclipse was 
 got by Shakespeare or by Old Marsk was a 
 point of which the Duke of Cumberland 
 and his Stud Groom at one time confessed 
 themselves ignorant ; and though at length, 
 as it was necessary that Eclipse should have 
 a pedigree, they fiHated him upon Old Marsk, 
 Dr. Dove had amused himself with contend- 
 ing that the real cause of the superiority of 
 that wonderful horse to all other horses was, 
 that in reality he was the Son of both, and 
 being thus doubly begotten had derived a 
 double portion of vigour. It is not ne- 
 cessary to explain by what process of rea- 
 soning he had arrived at this conclusion; but 
 it followed as a necessary inference that if a 
 horse with two Sires inherited a double 
 stock of strength, a horse who had no Sire 
 at all must, pari ratione, be in a like pro- 
 portion deficient. And here the Doctor 
 must have rested had he not luckily called 
 to mind that Canto of the Faery Queen in 
 which 
 
 how 
 
 The birth of fayre Belphcebe and 
 Of Amorett is told: 
 
 wondrously they were begot and bred 
 Through influence of the Heavens fruitfull ray. 
 
 Miraculous may seem to him that reades 
 
 So strange ensample of conception ; 
 But reason teacheth that the fruitfull seedes 
 
 Of all things living, through impression 
 
 Of the sunbeames in moyst complexion 
 Doe life conceive, and quick'ned are by kynd ; 
 
 So after Nilus' inundation 
 
 Infinite shapes of creatures men doe fynd 
 Informed in the mud on which the Sunne hath shynd. 
 
 Great Father he of Generation 
 Is rightly called, th' Authour of life and light ; 
 
 And his faire sister for creation 
 Ministreth matter tit, which tempred right 
 With heate and humour breedes the living wight. 
 
 So delighted was he with this recollection, 
 and with the beautiful picture of Belphoebe 
 which it recalled, that he would instantly 
 have named the foal Belphcebe, if it had 
 
 * It will D? observed by critical readers that tho', thro', 
 altho", are thus written in the latter /portions of " The 
 Doctor, &c.," after Swift ; not in the earlier ones, or very 
 rarely. 
 
 happened to be a filly. For a moment it 
 occurred to him to call him Belphcebus ; 
 but then again he thought that Belphoebus 
 was too like Belphegor, and he would not 
 give any occasion for a mistake, which might 
 lead to a suspicion that he favoured Nicho- 
 las's notion of the Devil's concern in the 
 business. 
 
 But the naming of this horse was not so 
 lightly to be decided. Would it have been 
 fitting under all the circumstances of the 
 case to have given him any such appellation 
 as Buzzard, Trumpeter, Ploughboy, Master 
 Jackey, Master Robert, Jerry Sneak, Trim- 
 mer, Swindler, Deceiver, Diddler, Boxer, 
 Bruiser, Buffer, Prize-fighter, Swordsman, 
 Snap, would it have been fitting, I say, to 
 have given to a Colt who was dropped almost 
 as unexpectedly as if he had dropped from 
 the clouds, would it, I repeat, have been 
 fitting to have given him any one of these 
 names, all known in their day upon the Turf, 
 or of the numberless others commonly and 
 with equal impropriety bestowed upon horses. 
 
 CHAPTER CXXXIX. 
 
 FACTS AND OBSERVATIONS RELATING TO 
 ONOMATOL.OGY. 
 
 Moreover there are many more things in the World 
 than there are names for them ; according to the saying 
 of the Philosopher ; Notnina sitnt finila, res autem infi- 
 nitce i idea unum nomen plura significat : which saying 
 is by a certain, or rather uncertain, author approved : 
 Mtiltis speciebus non sunt nomina ; idcirco neceisarium 
 est nomina fingere, si nulluin ante erit nomen impositum. 
 
 GWILL1M. 
 
 NAMES, Reader, are serious things; and 
 certain philosophers, as well as Mr. Shandy, 
 have been, to use the French-English of the 
 day, deeply penetrated with this truth 
 
 The name of the Emperor of Japan is 
 never known to his subjects during his life. 
 And the people of ancient Rome never 
 knew the true and proper name of their own 
 City, which is indeed among the things that 
 have utterly perished. It was concealed as 
 the most awful of all mysteries, lest if it 
 were known to the enemies of the City, they
 
 348 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 might by force of charms and incantations 
 deprive it of the aid of its tutelary Gods. 
 As for that mystery which has occasioned 
 among Hebrew Critics the Sect of the Ado- 
 nists, I only hint thereat. 
 
 Names, Reader, are serious things, so 
 serious that no man since Adam has been 
 able, except by special inspiration, to invent 
 one which should be perfectly significant. 
 
 Ad an, antes que el bien lefuera oposito, 
 
 Fue tan grande JUosofo y dialectico, 
 due a todo quanta Dios le. dio en dsposito, 
 
 ( Aunque pecandofue despufsfrenetico,) 
 De nombres adorno tan a proposito 
 
 Como qufen tuvo espiritu profetico ; 
 Porque naturaleza en modo tacito 
 
 Las causas descubrio a su beneplacito. 
 
 Esta virtud tan altaftte perdiendose 
 De los que del vinieron derivandose, 
 
 Tanto que todos van desvaneciendose. 
 En aplicar los nombres, y enganandose, 
 
 Sino es par algun Angel descubriendose, 
 O par inspiration manifcstandose .* 
 
 Names, Reader, I repeat, are serious 
 things : and much ingenuity has been 
 exerted in inventing appropriate ones, not 
 only for man and beast, but for inanimate 
 things. Godfathers and Godmothers, Navi- 
 gators, Shipbuilders, Florists, Botanists, 
 Chemists, Jockeys, Feeders, Stage Coach 
 Proprietors, Quacks, Perfumers, Novelists 
 and Dramatists, have all displayed their 
 taste in the selection of Names. 
 
 More whimsically consorted names will 
 seldom be found than among the Lodges of 
 the Manchester Unity of the Independent 
 Order of Odd Fellows You find there 
 Apollo and St. Peter ; the Rose of Sharon, 
 and the Rose of Cheetham ; Earl Fitz- 
 william, Farmer's Glory, and Poor Man's 
 Protection ; Philanthropic and Lord Byron, 
 Lord John Russell and Good Intent ; Queen 
 Caroline (Bergami's Queen not George the 
 Second's) and Queen Adelaide. 
 
 Reader, be pleased to walk into the Gar- 
 den with me. You see that bush, what 
 would you call the fruit which it bears ? 
 The Gooseberry. But its more particular 
 name ? Its botanical name is ribes or 
 grossularia, which you will, Mr. Author. 
 Still, Reader, we are in generals. For you 
 
 * Cayrasco de Figueroa. 
 
 and I, and our wives and children, and all 
 plain eaters of gooseberry-pie and goose- 
 berry-fool, the simple name gooseberry 
 might suffice. Not so for the scientific in 
 gooseberries, the gooseberryologists. They 
 could distinguish whether it were the King 
 or the Duke of York ; the Yellow Seedling 
 or the Prince of Orange ; Lord Hood or Sir 
 Sidney Smith ; Atlas or Hercules ; the Green 
 Goose, or the Green Bob, or the Green 
 Chisel ; the Colossus or the Duke of Bed- 
 ford ; Apollo or Tickle Toby ; the Royal 
 Oak or the Royal Sovereign ; the Hero or 
 the Jolly Suioaker ; the Game Keeper or 
 the Sceptre ; the Golden Gourd, or the 
 Golden Lion, or the Gold-finder ; Worth- 
 ington's Conqueror or Somach's Victory ; 
 Robinson's Stump or Davenport's Lady ; 
 Blakeley's Chisel or Read's Satisfaction ; 
 Bell's Farmer or the Creeping Ceres ; the 
 White Muslin, the White Rose, the White 
 Bear, the White Noble, or the White Smith ; 
 the Huntsman, the Gunner, the Thrasher, 
 the Viper, the Independent, the Glory of 
 Eccles, or the Glory of England ; Smith's 
 Grim-Mask, Blomerly's John Bull, Hamlet's 
 Beauty of England, Goodier's Nelson's Vic- 
 tory, Parkinson's Scarlet Virgin, Milling's 
 Crown Bob, Kitt's Bank of England, Yeat's 
 Wild- Man of the Wood, Davenport's Jolly 
 Hatter, or Leigh's Fiddler. For all these 
 are Gooseberries : and yet this is none of 
 them : it is the Old Ironmonger. 
 
 Lancashire is the County in which the 
 Gooseberry has been most cultivated ; there 
 is a Gooseberry book annually printed at 
 Manchester ; and the Manchester News- 
 papers recording the death of a person, and 
 saying that he bore a severe illness with 
 Christian fortitude and resignation, add that 
 he was much esteemed among the Class of 
 Gooseberry Growers. A harmless class 
 they must needs be deemed, but even in 
 growing Gooseberries emulation may be 
 carried too far. 
 
 The Royal Sovereign, which in 1794 was 
 grown by George Cook of Ashton, near 
 Preston, which weighed seventeen penny- 
 weights, eighteen grains, was thought a 
 Royal Gooseberry at that day. But the
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 349 
 
 growth of Gooseberries keeps pace with the 
 March of Intellect. :In 1830 the largest 
 Yellow Gooseberry on record was shown at 
 Stockport ; it weighed thirty-two penny- 
 weights, thirteen grains, and was named 
 the Teazer. The largest Red one was the 
 Roaring Lion, of thirty-one pennyweights, 
 thirteen grains, shown at Nantwich ; and 
 the largest White was the Ostrich, shown 
 at Ormskirk ; falling far short of the others, 
 and yet weighing twenty-four pennyweights, 
 twenty grains. They have been grown as 
 large as Pigeon's eggs. But the fruit is not 
 improved by the forced culture which in- 
 creases its size. The Gooseberry growers, 
 who show for the prizes which are annually 
 offered, thin the fruit so as to leave but two 
 or three berries on a branch ; even then 
 prizes are not gained by fair dealing : they 
 contrive to support a small cup under each 
 of these, so that the fruit shall for some 
 weeks rest in water that covers about a 
 fourth part, and this they call suckling the 
 gooseberry. 
 
 Your Orchard, Sir ! you are perhaps con- 
 tent with Codlins and Pippins, Non-pareils, 
 and Russets, with a few nameless varieties. 
 But Mr. Forsyth will tell you of the Beauty 
 of Kent, of the Belle Grisdeline, the Boom- 
 rey, the Hampshire Nonsuch, the Dalmahoy, 
 the Golden Mundi, the Queening, the Oak 
 Peg, the Nine Square, the Paradise Pippin, 
 the Violet Apple, the Corpendu, the Tre- 
 voider, the Ramborn, the Spanish Onion, 
 the Royal George, the Pigeonette, the Nor- 
 folk Paradise, the Long-laster, the Kentish 
 Fill baskets, the Maiden's Blush, the Lady's 
 Finger, the Scarlet Admirable, the Hall- 
 Door, the Green Dragon, the Fox's Whelp, 
 the Fair Maid of Wishford, Coble-dick-lon- 
 gerkin an apple in the North of Devon 
 and Cornwall, which Mr. Polwhele supposes 
 to have been introduced into the parish of 
 Stratton by one Longerkin who was called 
 Cobble-dick, because his name was Richard 
 and he was a Cobler by trade. John Apple, 
 
 whose withered rind, intrench'd 
 With many a furrow, aptly represents 
 Decrepid age *, 
 
 PHILIPS. 
 
 the King of the Pippins (of him hereafter in 
 the Chapter of Kings) and the Seek-no- 
 farther, after which, no farther will we 
 seek. 
 
 Of Pears, the Bon Chretien, called by 
 English Gardeners the Bum-Gritton, the 
 Teton de Venus, and the Cuisse Madame, 
 three names which equally mark the country 
 from whence they came. The last Bishop 
 of Alais before the French Revolution visit- 
 ing a Rector once who was very rich and very 
 avaricious, gave him some gentle admonitory 
 hint of the character he had heard of him. 
 " Mais, Monseigneur" said the Man, " i7 
 faut garder une Poire pour la soif." " Vous 
 avez bien raison" replied the Bishop : " pre- 
 nez garde seulement qiielle soil du bon Chre- 
 tien." The first Lord Camelford, in one of 
 whose letters this pun is preserved, thought 
 it perfect. But to proceed with the no- 
 menclature of Pears, there are the Su- 
 preme, the Bag-pipe of Anjou, the Huff 
 Cap, the Grey Good Wife, the Goodman's 
 Pear, the Queen's Pear, the Prince's Pear, 
 the Marquis's Pear, the Dean's Pear, the 
 Knave's Pear, the Pope's Pear, the Chaw 
 Good, the Vicar, the Bishop's Thumb, the 
 Lady's Lemon, the Lord Martin, the St. 
 Austin, La Pastorelle and Monsieur John, 
 the Great Onion, the Great Mouthwater, the 
 King of Summer, the Angelic Pear, and 
 many others which I would rather eat than 
 enumerate. At present the Louis Philippe 
 holds pre-eminence. 
 
 The Propria (juce Potatibus will be found 
 not less rich, though here we perceive a 
 lower key of invention, as adapted to a lower 
 rank of fruit, and affording a proof of 
 Nature's Aristocracy; here we have Red 
 Champions, White Champions, Late Cham- 
 pions and English Champions, Early Manlys, 
 Rough Reds, Smooth Yellows, Silver Skins, 
 Pink Eyes, Golden Tags, Golden Gullens, 
 Common Wise, Quaker Wise, Budworth's 
 Dusters, Poor Man's Profit, Lady Queens, 
 Drunken Landlords, Britons, Crones, Apples, 
 Magpies, Lords, Invincibles, the Painted 
 Lady and the Painted Lord, the Golden Dun, 
 the Old Red Rough, and the Ox Noble : 
 
 Cum multis aliis qua; nunc perscribere longum ett.
 
 350 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 For Eoses, inethinks Venus, and the Fair 
 Maid, and Flora, and Favourite, and Diana 
 may well keep company with our old fa- 
 vourite the Maiden Blush. There may be, 
 too, though it were to be wished there were 
 not, a Miss Bold, among these beautiful 
 flowers. Nor would I object to Purple nor 
 to Ruby, because they are significant, if no- 
 thing more. But for Duchess, with double 
 blush, methinks the characteristic and the 
 name go ill together. The Great Mogul is 
 as bad as the Vagrant ; the Parson worse 
 than either ; and for Mount Etna and Mount 
 Vesuvius, it excites an explosion of anger 
 to hear of them. 
 
 Among the trees in Barbadoes, we read of 
 Anchovy the Apple, the Bread and Cheese, 
 or Sucking Bottle, the Belly Ache, and the 
 Fat Pork Tree ! 
 
 From the fields and gardens to the Dairy. 
 In the Vaccine nomenclature we pass over 
 the numerals and the letters of the Alphabet. 
 Would you have more endearing appella- 
 tions than Curly, Curl -pate, Pretty, Browny, 
 Cot Lass, Lovely Lass, (a name peradven- 
 ture imposed by that person famous in the 
 proverb, as the old Woman who kissed her 
 Cow,) more promising than Bee, Earnest, 
 Early, Standfast, Fill-bouk, Fill-pan, more 
 romantic than Rose, Rosely, Rosebud, Rose- 
 berry, Rosamond, Rosella, Rosalina, Furba, 
 Firbrella, Firbrina, more rural than Ru- 
 rorea. 
 
 Then for Bulls, was there not the Bull 
 Shakespeare, by Shakespeare off young Nell, 
 who was sold in the year 1793 for ,400 
 with a condition that the seller should have 
 the privilege every year of introducing two 
 Cows to the said Shakespeare. And was 
 there not the Bull Comet who was sold for 
 1000 guineas. I say nothing of Alderman 
 Bull, nor of John Bull, nor of the remark- 
 able Irish Breed. 
 
 For horses I content myself with remem- 
 bering the never-to-be-forgotten Pot-o-o-o- 
 o-o-o-o-os, sometimes written PotSos. Whose 
 was the proudest feeling of exultation, his 
 who devised this numerico-literal piece of 
 wit, or that of Archimedes when he ex- 
 claimed "EvprjKa ? And while touching the 
 
 Arithmographic mode of writing, let us not 
 forget the Frenchman, who by the union of 
 a pun and a hieroglyph described his Sove- 
 reign's style thus Louis with ten-oysters 
 in a row after the name. 
 
 As for the scientific names of Plants, if 
 Apollo had not lost all power he would have 
 elongated the ears of Tournefort and Lin- 
 naeus, and all their followers, as deservedly 
 as he did those of Midas. 
 
 Of the Knights or Horsemen, Greeks and 
 Trojans, Rustics and Townsmen among 
 Butterflies, and the Gods, Goddesses, 
 Muses and Graces, Heroes, Worthies and 
 Unworthies, who feed in their grub state 
 upon lettuces and cabbages, sleep through 
 their aurelian term of existence, and finally 
 obtain a name in the naturalist's nomencla- 
 ture, and perhaps a local habitation in his 
 Cabinet with a pin through their bodies, I 
 say nothing, farther than to state why one 
 tribe of them is denominated Trojans. Be 
 it known then in the words of a distinguished 
 Entomologist, that " this tribe has been de- 
 dicated by Entomologists to the memory of 
 the more distinguished worthies of the 
 Trojan race, and above others to preserve 
 the memory of those heroes whose exploits 
 in the defence of that rich and potent station 
 of the ancient world, the town of Troy, have 
 been commemorated in the Iliad by the im- 
 mortal Homer." Lest Homer therefore and 
 all the works derived from him should perish 
 from remembrance the Entomologists have 
 very considerately devised this means for 
 preserving the memory of Hector. 
 
 Hath not Daniel Girton, of the County of 
 Bucks, in his Complete Pigeon-Fancier, 
 wherein he points out to the Gentlemen of 
 the Fancy, the foul marks and the real per- 
 fections of every valuable species of Fancy 
 Birds and Toys which in his time were bred 
 in England, France and Holland ; hath 
 not Daniel Girton, I say, (tho' Boswell 
 thought that a sentence so formed as to re- 
 quire an Tsay to keep it together, resembled 
 a pair of ill-mended breeches, and candidly 
 acknowledged the resemblance in his own, 
 the sentence I mean, which he was then 
 penning, not the breeches which he wore ;)
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 351 
 
 hath not Daniel Girton, I say, particu- 
 larly enumerated in his Title-Page among 
 the varieties of such Fancy Birds, Powters, 
 Carriers, Horsemen, Dragoons, Croppers, 
 Powting Horsemen, Uplopers, Fantails, 
 Chinese Pigeons, Lace-Pigeons, Tumblers, 
 Runts, Spots, Laughers, Trumpeters, Jaco- 
 bines, Capuchines, Nuns, Shakers, Helmets, 
 Ruffs, Finnikins, Turners, Barbs, Mahomets, 
 Turbits, Owls, and Smiters, concluding the 
 imperfect enumeration with an &c. 
 
 The Foul Fiends also have odd names. 
 Witness the list which John Gee collected 
 after the veracious Romish Priests of his 
 time : Lusty Dick, Killico, Hob, Corner- 
 Cap, Puffe, Purre, Frateretto, Fliberdigibbet, 
 Haberdicut, Cocabelto, Maho, (this Maho, 
 who was a gentleman as Shakespeare * tells 
 us, maintained his ground against a Priest 
 for seven hours,) Kellicocam, Wilkin, Sinol- 
 kin, Lusty Jolly Jenkin, (this must have 
 been a Welsh Devil and of a noble race,) 
 Porto Richo, (peradventure a Creole Devil,) 
 Pudding of Thanie (fie on such pudding !) 
 
 Pour Dieu (Pour Diable !), Bonjour, 
 Motubizanto, Kur, Bernon, Delicate. 
 
 The familiar of that " damnable and 
 malicious witch Elizabeth Southerns, alias 
 Dimdikes, was called Tibb : she dwelt in 
 the forest of Pendle, a vast place fit for her 
 profession, and she was a general Agent for 
 the Devil in all those parts." 
 
 There was one Mr. Duke, a busy fanatic, 
 in Devonshire in Charles II.'s days, whom 
 old Sir Edward Seymour used to call Spirit 
 Po, that said Po being a petit diable, a small 
 devil that was presto at every Conjuror's 
 nod. He (the said Mr. Duke) " was a com- 
 mon runner up and down on factious 
 errands ; and there could not be a meeting 
 in the country for business or mirth, but 
 Spirit Po was there." 
 
 Actaeus Megalesius, Ormenus, Lycus, 
 Nicon and Mimon are five of the Chief Tel- 
 chinnes or Alastores, who take the waters of 
 Styx in their hands and sprinkle them over 
 the earth, thereby causing all kinds of dis- 
 easts and calamities. 
 
 * Lear, Act iii. gc. IT. 
 
 It is known upon testimony which has 
 received the sanction of the Holy Office, 
 that Lucifer has three Lord Lieutenants, 
 whose names are Aquias, Brum, and Acatu : 
 whether the second assumed his name in 
 prospective compliment to the Queen's At- 
 torney-General, or whether the name itself 
 has some appropriate and amiable significa- 
 tion in the infernal tongue must be left to 
 conjecture. These Lord Lieutenants were 
 sent with a whole army of Devils to make 
 war against a person of the feminine gender 
 called in her own language Anna de San- 
 tiago, but in the language of Hell, Catar- 
 ruxa, which, according to the interpretation 
 given by the Devils themselves, means the 
 Strong Woman. The General was named 
 Catacis, and the names of the subordinate 
 Commanders have been faithfully recorded 
 by a Franciscan Chronicler of unquestioned 
 veracity, for the use of Exorcists, experience 
 having shown that it is of signal use in their 
 profession to know the names of the enemies 
 with whom they are contending, the Devils 
 perhaps having learned from the Lawyers, 
 (who are able to teach the Devil,) to take 
 advantage of a misnomer. This indeed is 
 so probable that it cannot be superfluous to 
 point out to Exorcists a received error, 
 which must often have frustrated their 
 laudable endeavours, if the same literal 
 accuracy be required in their processes as 
 in those of the Law. They no doubt have 
 always addressed the Prince of the Devils 
 by the name of Beelzebub, but his real 
 name is Beelzebul ; and so St. Jerome found 
 it in all his Manuscripts, but not under- 
 standing what was then the common, and 
 true reading, he altered B\oi>X intoBttX- 
 %tov, by which he made the word sig- 
 nificant to himself, but enabled Beelzebul 
 to quash all actions of ejectment preferred 
 against him in this false name. The value 
 of this information will be appreciated in 
 Roman Catholic Countries. Gentlemen of 
 the long robe will think it beautiful ; and I 
 have this additional motive for communi- 
 cating it, to wit, that it may be a warning 
 to all verbal Critics. I now return to my 
 nomenclature.
 
 352 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 If a catalogue of plants or animals in a 
 newly-discovered country be justly esteemed 
 curious, how much more curious must a 
 genuine muster-roll of Devils be esteemed, 
 all being Devils of rank and consequence in 
 the Satanic service. It is to Anna de San- 
 tiago herself that we are originally beholden 
 for it, when at her Confessor's desire, 
 
 9inus 9' otau,f,ttt CLTO.VTZ.; 
 "Tiu; v!Tr{T{/ouf * 
 
 " The reader (as Fuller says) will not be 
 offended with their hard names here follow- 
 ing, seeing his eye may run them over in 
 perusing them, though his tongue never 
 touch them in pronouncing them." And 
 when he thinks how many private and non- 
 commissioned officers go to make up a legion, 
 he may easily believe that Owen Glendower 
 might have held Hotspur 
 
 at least nine hours 
 
 In reckoning up the several Devil's names 
 That were his lackeys. 
 
 Barca, Maquias, Acatain, Ge, Arri, Maca- 
 quias, Ju, Mocatam, Arra, Vi, Macutu, 
 Laca, Machehe, Abriim, Maracatu, Maja- 
 catam, Barra, Matu, the Great Dog, (this 
 was a dumb devil), Arracatorra, Mayca, 
 Oy, Aleu, Malacatan, Mantu, Arraba, Emay, 
 Alacamita, Olu, Ayvatu, Arremabur, Ay- 
 cotan, Lacahabarratu, Oguerracatam, Jama- 
 catia, Mayacatu, Ayciay, Balla, Luachi, 
 Mayay, Buzache, Berra, Berram, Malde- 
 quita, Bemaqui, Moricastatu, Anciaquias, 
 Zamata, Bu, Zamcapatujas, Bellacatuaxia, 
 Go, Bajaque, and Baa, which seems but 
 a sheepish name for a Devil. 
 
 Can there be yet a roll of names more 
 portentous in appearance, more formidable 
 in sound, more dangerous in utterance ? 
 Look, reader, at the ensuing array, and 
 judge for thyself; look I say, and mentally 
 peruse it, but attempt not to enunciate the 
 words, lest thou shouldst loosen thy teeth 
 or fracture them in the operation. 
 
 Angheteduff, otherwise Anghutuduffe, 
 otherwise Ballyhaise, Kealdragh, Caveneboy, 
 Aghugrenoase, otherwise Aghagremous, 
 Killataven, Kilnaverley, Kelvoryvybegg, 
 Tonnegh, Briehill, Drommody, Amragh- 
 
 duffe, Drumhermshanbeeg, Dranhill, Cor- 
 maghscargin, Corlybeeg, Cornashogagh, 
 Dromhome, Trimmigan, Knocklyeagh, Car- 
 rigmore, Clemtegrit, Lesdamenhuile, Cor- 
 reamyhy, Aghnielanagher, otherwise Agni- 
 gamagh, Prittage, Aghaiasgim, Tobogamagh, 
 Dromaragh, otherwise Dromavragh, Cnock- 
 amyhee, Lesnagvan, Kellarne, Gargaran, 
 Cormodyduffe, Curraghchinrin, Annageocry, 
 Brocklagh, Aghmaihi, Drungvin, otherwise 
 Dungen, Dungenbegg, Dungemore, Sheina, 
 Dremcarplin, Shaghtany, Knocksegart, Keil- 
 lagh, Tinlaghcoole, Tinlagheryagh, Lyssy- 
 brogan, Lyssgallagh, Langarriah, Sheanmul- 
 lagh, Celgvane, Drombomore, Lissgarre, 
 Toncantany, Knockadawe, Dromboobegg, 
 Drumpgampurne, Listiarta, Omrefada, Cor- 
 ranyore, Corrotober, Clere, Biagbire, Lurg- 
 riagh, Tartine, Drumburne, Aghanamaghan, 
 Lusmakeragh, Nucaine, Cornamuck, Crosse, 
 Coyleagh, Cnocknatratin, Toanmore, Ra- 
 gasky, Longamonihity, Atteantity, Knock- 
 fodda, Tonaghmore, Drumgrestin, Owley, 
 Dronan, Vusbinagh, Carricknascan, Lyssan- 
 hany, otherwise Lysseyshanan, Knockaduyne, 
 Dromkurin, Lissmakearke, Dromgowhan, 
 Raghege, Dromacharand, Moneyneriogh, 
 Drinsurly, Dromillan, Agunylyly, Gnock- 
 antry, Ellyn, Keileranny, otherwise Kul- 
 rany, Koraneagh, and Duigary. 
 
 " Mercy on us," says the Reader, " what, 
 are these !" Have patience, Reader, we have 
 not done yet, there are still Magheryhil- 
 lagh, Drung, Clefern, Castleterra, Killana, 
 Moybolgace, Kilfort, Templefort, Killagha- 
 don, Laragh, Cloncaughy, Annaghgiliffe, 
 Towninmore, Rathany, Drumgoone, Tyre- 
 latrada, Lurganboy, Ballyclanphilip, Killin- 
 kery, Ballintampel, Kilbride, Crosserlougli, 
 Drumlawnaught, Killanaburgh, Kilsher- 
 dan, otherwise Killersherding, Dremakellen, 
 Aughaurain, Drumgress and Shanaraghan. 
 " For mercy's sake," exclaims the Reader, 
 " enough enough ! what are they ? " The 
 latter, dear Reader, are all Poles and Ter- 
 mons. And the whole of them were set up 
 for sale by public cant in Dublin, pursuant 
 to a Decree of his Majesty's High Court of 
 Chancery in Ireland, dated the 18th of May, 
 1816.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 CHAPTER CXL. 
 
 HOW THESE AROSE A DISPUTE BETWEEN 
 BARNABY AND NICHOLAS CONCERNING THE 
 NAMING OF THIS COLT, AND OF THE 
 EXTRAORDINARY CIRCUMSTANCES THAT 
 ENSUED. 
 
 Quoiqu'il en soil, je ne tairai point cette. histoire ; je 
 Fabandonne ct la c-redulite, ou d fincrcdulite des Lec/eurs, 
 Us prendront d cet egnrd qut'l parti it leur plaira. Je 
 dirai seulement, s'ils ne la veulent pas entire, que je les 
 defie de me prouver qu'elle soil absolument impossible ; 
 ils ne le prouverontjamais. GOMGAM. 
 
 WHILE the Doctor was deliberating by 
 what significant name to call the foal of 
 which he had in so surprising a manner 
 found himself possessed, a warm dispute 
 upon the same subject had arisen between 
 Barnaby and Nicholas : for though a woman 
 does not consider herself complimented when 
 she is called a horse-godmother, each was 
 ambitious of being horse-godfather on this 
 occasion, and giving his own name to the 
 colt, which had already become a pet with 
 both. 
 
 Upon discovering each other's wish they 
 first quietly argued the point. Nicholas 
 maintained that it was not possible any per- 
 son, except his master, could have so good a 
 right to name the colt as himself, who had 
 actually been present when he was dropped. 
 Barnaby admitted the force of the argument, 
 but observed that there was a still stronger 
 reason for naming him as he proposed, be- 
 cause he had been foaled on the eleventh of 
 June, which is St. Barnabas's day. 
 
 " Nicholas," quoth his antagonist, " it ought 
 to be, for I was there at the very nick of 
 time." " Barnaby," retorted the other, " it 
 ought to be ; for in a barn it happened." 
 
 " Old Nick was the father of him !" said 
 Nicholas. " The more reason," replied Bar- 
 naby, " for giving him a Saint's name." 
 
 " He shall be nicked to suit his name," 
 said Nicholas ; " and that's a good rea- 
 son ! " " It's a wicked reason," cried Bar- 
 naby, " he shall never be nicked. I love him 
 as well as if he was a bairn of my own : and 
 that's another reason why he should be called 
 
 Barnaby. He shall be neither nicked nor 
 Nicholased." 
 
 Upon this Nicholas grew warm, and as- 
 serted that his name was as good as the other's, 
 and that he was ready to prove himself the 
 better man. The other, who had been made 
 angry at the thought of nicking his pet, was 
 easily put upon his mettle, and they agreed to 
 settle the dispute by the ultima ratio regum. 
 But this appeal to the immortal Gods was 
 not definitive, for John Atkinson the Miller's 
 son came up and parted them ; and laughing 
 at them for a couple of fools when he heard 
 the cause of their quarrel, he proposed that 
 they should determine it by running a race 
 to the gate at the other end of the field. 
 
 Having made them shake hands, and pro- 
 mise to abide by the issue, he went before 
 them to the goal, and got on the other side 
 to give the signal and act as umpire. 
 
 " One ! Two ! Three and away !" They 
 were off like race-horses. They jostled mid- 
 way. It was neck and neck. And each 
 laid his hand at the same moment on the 
 gate. 
 
 John Atkinson then bethought him that it 
 would be a more sensible way of deciding the 
 dispute, if they were to drink for it, and see 
 who could swallow most ale at the Black 
 Bull, where the current barrel was much to 
 his taste. At the Black Bull, therefore, they 
 met in the evening. John chalked pint for 
 pint ; but for the sake of good fellowship 
 he drank pint for pint also ; the Landlord 
 (honest Matthew Sykes) entered into the 
 spirit of the contest, and when his wife 
 refused to draw any more beer, went for 
 it himself as long as he had a leg to stand 
 on, or a hand to carry the jug, and longer 
 than any one of the party could keep the 
 score. 
 
 The next day they agreed to settle it by 
 a sober game at Beggar-my- Neighbour. It 
 was a singular game. The cards were dealt 
 with such equality that after the first round 
 had shown the respective hands, the ablest 
 calculator would have been doubtful on 
 which side to have betted. Captures were 
 made and re-made, the game had all and 
 more than all its usual ups and downs, and
 
 354 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 it ended in tyeing the two last cards. Never 
 in any contest had Jupiter held the scales 
 with a more even hand. 
 
 " The Devil is in the business to be sure," 
 said Nicholas, " let us toss up for it ! " 
 " Done," saidBarnaby; and Nicholas placing 
 a halfpenny on his thumb nail sent it whizz- 
 ing into the air. 
 
 " Tails !" quoth Barnaby. " 'Tis heads," 
 cried Nicholas, " hurrah ! " 
 
 Barnaby stamped with his right foot for 
 vexation lifted his right arm to his head, 
 drew in his breath with one of those sounds 
 which grammarians would class among inter- 
 jections, if they could express them by let- 
 ters, and swore that if it had been an honest 
 halfpenny, it would never have served him 
 so ! He picked it up, and it proved to be 
 a Srummejam of the coarsest and clumsiest 
 kind, with a head on each side. They now 
 agreed that the Devil certainly must be in 
 it, and determined to lay the whole case 
 before the Doctor. 
 
 The Doctor was delighted with their story. 
 The circumstances which they related were 
 curious enough to make the naming of this 
 horse as remarkable as his birth. He was 
 pleased also that his own difficulties and in- 
 decision upon this important subject should 
 thus as it were be removed by Fate or For- 
 tune; and taking the first thought which 
 now occurred, and rubbing his forehead as 
 he was wont to do, when any happy concep- 
 tion struck him, (Jupiter often did so when 
 Minerva was in his brain), he said, " we must 
 compromise the matter, and make a com- 
 pound name in which both shall have an 
 equal share. Nicholas Ottley, and Barnaby 
 Sutton; N. O. B. S. Nobs shall be his 
 name." 
 
 Perhaps the Doctor remembered Smec- 
 tymnuus at that time, and the notorious 
 Cabal, and the fanciful etymology that be- 
 cause news cornea from all parts, and the 
 letters N.E.W. S. stand for North, East, 
 West, and South the word was thence 
 compounded. Perhaps, also, he called to 
 mind that Rabbi Moses Ben Mainion, the 
 famous Maimonides, was called Rambam 
 1'rom the initials of his titles and his names ; 
 
 and that the great Gustavus Adolphus when 
 he travelled incognito assumed the name of 
 M. Gars, being the four initials of his name 
 and title. He certainly did not remember 
 that in the Dialogue of Solomon and Satur- 
 nus the name of Adam is said to have been 
 in like manner derived from the four 
 Angels Archox, Dux, Arocholem, and Min- 
 symbrie. He did not remember this be- 
 cause he never knew it ; this very curious 
 Anglo-Saxon poem existing hitherto only 
 in manuscript, and no other portions or 
 account of it having been printed than those 
 brief ones for which we are indebted to 
 Mr. Conybeare, a man upon whose like we 
 of his generation shall not look again. 
 
 CHAPTER CXLI. 
 
 A SINGULAR ANECDOTE AND NOT MOEE 
 SAD THAN TRUE. 
 
 Oh penny Pipers, and most painful penners 
 Of bountiful new Ballads, what a subject, 
 What a sweet subject for your silver sounds ! 
 
 BEAUMONT and FLETCHER. 
 
 THE chance of the Birmingham halfpenny 
 was a rare one. I will not so far wrong the 
 gentle Reader as to suppose that he will 
 doubt the accuracy of anything which is 
 recorded in this true history ; and I seri- 
 ously assure him that such a halfpenny I 
 have myself seen in those days when the 
 most barefaced counterfeits were in full 
 circulation, a halfpenny which had a head 
 on either side, and consequently was like 
 the fox in the fable, or a certain noble 
 Marquis, and now more noble Duke when 
 embassador at Petersburg, not as being 
 doublefaced, but as having lost its tail. 
 
 A rare chance it was, and yet rarer ones 
 have happened. I remember one concern- 
 ing a more serious appeal to fortune with 
 the same instrument. An Organist not 
 without some celebrity in his day, (Jeremiah 
 Clark was his name,) being hopelessly in 
 love with a very beautiful lady, far above 
 his station in life, determined upon suicide, 
 and walked into the fields to accomplish his
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 355 
 
 purpose. Coming to a retired spot where 
 there was a convenient pond, surrounded 
 with equally convenient trees, he hesitated 
 which to prefer, whether to choose a dry 
 death, or a watery one ; perhaps he had 
 never heard of the old riddle concerning 
 JElia. Laelia Crispis, which no (Edipus has 
 yet solved. But that he might not continue 
 like the Ass between two bundles of hay in 
 the sophism, or Mahomet's coffin in the 
 fable, he tossed a halfpenny in the air to 
 decide whether he should hang or drown 
 himself, and the halfpenny stuck edgeways 
 in the dirt. 
 
 The most determined infidel would at 
 such a moment have felt that this was more 
 than accident. Clark, as may well be sup- 
 posed, went home again ; but the salutary 
 impression did not remain upon his poor 
 disordered mind, and he shot himself soon 
 afterwards. 
 
 CHAPTER CXLII. 
 
 A DEFECT IN HOYLE SUPPLIED. GOOD AD- 
 VICE GIVEN, AND PLAIN TRUTH TOLD. 
 A TRIBUTE OF RESPECT TO THE MEMORY 
 OF F. NEWBERT, THE CHILDREN'S BOOK- 
 SELLER AND FRIEND. 
 
 Neither is it a thing impossible or greatly hard, even 
 by such kind of proofs so to manifest and clear that point, 
 that no man living shall be able to deny it, without deny- 
 ing some apparent principle such as all men acknowledge 
 to be true. HOOKER. 
 
 THERE are many things in these kingdoms 
 which are greatly under-valued : strong beer 
 for example in the cider countries, and cider 
 in the countries of good strong beer ; bottled 
 twopenny in South Britain ; sprats and her- 
 rings by the rich, (it may be questioned 
 whether his Majesty ever tasted them, 
 though food for the immortal Gods,) and 
 fish of every kind by the labouring classes ; 
 some things because they are common, 
 and others because they are not. 
 
 But I cannot call to mind anything which 
 is estimated so much below its deserts as the 
 game of Beggar-my-Neighbour. It is ge- 
 nerally thought fit only for the youngest 
 
 children, or for the very lowest and most 
 ignorant persons into whose hands a pack of 
 cards can descend ; whereas there is no game 
 whatever in which such perpetual oppor- 
 tunities of calculation are afforded to the 
 scientific gamester ; not indeed for playing 
 his cards, but for betting upon them. Zerah 
 Colburn, George Bidder and Professor Airy 
 would find their faculties upon the stretch, 
 were they to attempt to keep pace with its 
 chances. 
 
 It is, however, necessary that the Reader 
 should not mistake the spurious for the 
 genuine game, for there are various ways of 
 playing it, and as in all cases only one which 
 is the orthodox way. You take up trick by 
 trick. The trump, as at other games, takes 
 every other suit. If suit is not followed the 
 leader wins the trick ; but if it is, the 
 highest card is the winner. These rules 
 being observed (I give them . because they 
 will not be found in Hoylo) the game is 
 regular and affords combinations worthy to 
 have exercised the power of that calculating 
 machine of flesh and blood, called Jedediah 
 Buxton. 
 
 Try it, Reader, if you have the slightest 
 propensity for gambling. But first pledge 
 your sacred word of honour to the person 
 whose good opinion you are most desirous of 
 retaining, that you will never at any game, 
 nor in any adventure, risk a sum which 
 would involve you in any serious difficulties, 
 or occasion you any reasonable regret if it 
 should be lost. Make that resolution, and 
 keep it ; and you and your family will 
 have cause to bless the day in which you 
 read the History of Dr. Dove. 
 
 Observe, it is your word of honour that I 
 have requested, and not your oath. Either 
 with you might and ought to be equally 
 binding, as in foro conscientice, so every- 
 where else. But perhaps you are, or may 
 hereafter be a Member of Parliament, (a 
 propensity whether slight or not for gambling 
 which has been presupposed, renders this 
 the more likely ;) and since what is called 
 the Catholic Relief Bill was passed, the 
 obligation of an oath has been done away 
 by the custom of Parliament, honourable
 
 356 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Members being allowed to swear with what- 
 
 
 ever degree of mental reservation they and 
 
 CHAPTER CXLIII. 
 
 their Father Confessors may find con- 
 
 
 venient. 
 
 A FEEBLE ATTEMPT TO DESCRIBE THE PHY- 
 
 A Frenchman some fifteen years ago pub- 
 
 SICAL AND MORAL, QUALITIES OF NOBS. 
 
 lished a Treatise upon the game of Thirty- 
 
 Quant <J moi,je desirerofi fort scavoir bien dire, ou que 
 
 One ; and which is not always done by 
 
 j'eusse eu une bonne plume, et bien taillee a con/mamie- 
 
 Authors, in French or English, thought it 
 
 ment, pour I'exalter el louer comme il le merite. Toutes- 
 fois, tette quelle est,je m'en vais I' employer au hazard. 
 
 necessary to make himself well acquainted 
 
 BRAMUME. 
 
 with the subject upon which he was writing. 
 In order, therefore, to ascertain the chances, 
 he made one million five hundred and sixty 
 thousand throws, which he computed as 
 equivalent to four years' uninterrupted play. 
 If this indefatigable Frenchman be living, I 
 
 SUCH, O Reader, were the circumstances con- 
 cerning Nobs, before his birth, at his birth, 
 and upon his naming. Strange indeed would 
 it have been, if anything which regarded so 
 admirable a horse had been after the manner 
 
 exhort him to study Beggar-my-Neighbour 
 
 oi otner norses. 
 
 with equal diligence. 
 
 Fate never could a horse provide 
 
 There are some games which have sur- 
 
 So fit for such a man to ride ; 
 Nor find a man with strictest care 
 
 vived the Revolutions of Empires, like the 
 
 So fit for such a horse to bear.* 
 
 Pyramids ; but there are more which have 
 been as short-lived as modern Constitutions. 
 There may be some old persons who still 
 remember how Ombre was played, and 
 Tontine and Lottery ; but is there any one 
 who has ever heard of Quintill, Piquemdrill, 
 
 To describe him as he was would require 
 all the knowledge, and all the eloquence of 
 the immortal Taplin. Were I to attempt it 
 in verse, with what peculiar propriety might 
 I adopt the invocation of the Polish Poet. 
 
 Papillon, L'Ambigu, Ma Commere, La Ma- 
 riee, La Mouche, Man d'Auvergne, L'Em- 
 
 Ducite Gratia: 
 E valle Permfssi vagantem 
 Pegason ; aliperiemque sacrii 
 
 prunt, Le Poque, Romestecq, Sizette, 
 
 Frenate sertis Ut mical auribusl 
 
 Guinguette, Le Sixte, La Belle, Gillet, Cul 
 
 Vocemque longe vatis amabili 
 Agnoscit hinnitu ! Ut Dearum 
 
 Bas, Brusquembrille, the Game of Hoc, the 
 
 Frenaferox, hilarique bullam 
 
 Reverse, the Beast, the Cuckoo and the 
 
 Collo popofciH 
 
 Comet ? is there any one, I say, who has 
 
 Might I not have applied the latter part 
 
 ever heard of these Games, unless he 
 
 of these verses as aptly, as they might truly 
 
 happens to know as I do, that rules for 
 
 have been applied to Nobs, when Barnaby 
 
 playing them were translated from the 
 
 was about to saddle him on a fine spring 
 
 French of the Abbe Bellecour, and pub- 
 
 morning at the Doctor's bidding ? But what 
 
 lished for the benefit of the English people 
 
 have I to do with the Graces, or the Muses 
 
 some seventy years ago by Mr. F. Newbery, 
 
 and their winged steed ? My business is 
 
 a publisher never to be named without 
 
 with plain truth and sober prose. 
 
 honour by those who have read in their 
 
 
 childhood the delectable histories of Goody 
 
 Io non so dov' fo debba comminciare, 
 Dal capo, da gli orecchi, o dalla coda. 
 
 Two-Shoes, and Giles Gingerbread. 
 
 Egli e per tutto lanto singitlare. 
 
 
 Ch' to per me rd liidarlo, intero, intero ; 
 
 
 Poi pigli ognun qual membra piit gli pare. J. 
 
 
 Stubbs would have found it difficult to 
 
 
 paint him, Reginald Heber himself to de- 
 
 
 scribe him as he was. I must begin by 
 
 
 saying what he was not. 
 
 
 CHURCHILL. t CASIMIR. t BCSINI.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 357 
 
 And grant me now, 
 
 short stepper, nor a roarer, nor an interferer. 
 
 Good reader, them 1 
 Ol terms to use 
 
 For although it hath been said that " a man 
 
 Such choice to chuse, 
 
 cannot light of any horse young or old, but 
 
 As may delight 
 
 he is furnished with one, two, or more of 
 
 The country wight, 
 And knowledge bring : 
 
 these excellent gifts," Nobs had none of 
 
 For such do praise 
 
 them : he was an immaculate horse ; such 
 
 The country phrase, 
 The country acts, 
 
 as Adam's would have been, if Adam had 
 
 The country facts, 
 
 kept what could not then have been called a 
 
 The country toys, 
 Before the joys 
 
 saddle-horse, in Eden. 
 
 Of any thing.* 
 
 He was not, like the horse upon which 
 
 
 Petruchio came to his wedding, " possessed 
 
 He was not jogged under the jaw, nor 
 
 with the glanders and like to mose in the 
 
 shoulder-splat, neck-cricked, pricked in the 
 
 chine; troubled with the lampass, infected 
 
 sole or loose in the hoof, horse-hipped, hide- 
 
 with the fashions, full of wind-galls, sped 
 
 bound, broken-winded, straight or heavy 
 
 with spavins, raied with the yellows, past 
 
 shouldered, lame in whirl-bone, run-away, 
 
 cure of the fives, stark spoiled with the stag- 
 
 restiff, vicious, neck-reversed or cock-thrap- 
 
 gers, begnawn with the bots, swayed in the 
 
 pled, ewe-necked or deer-necked, high on 
 
 back and shoulder-shotten." f But he was 
 
 the leg, broken-knee'd, splent, oslett, false- 
 
 in every respect the reverse. 
 
 quartered, ring-boned, sand-cracked, groggy, 
 
 A horse he was worthy to be praised like 
 
 hollow-backed, bream-backed, long-backed 
 
 that of the Sieur Vuyart. 
 
 or broken-backed, light-carcased, ragged 
 hipped, droop-Dutchman'd, Dutch but- 
 
 Un courtaut brave, un courtaut glorieux, 
 Qui ait en Fair ruade furieuse. 
 
 tock'd, hip shot-stifled, hough-boney or 
 
 Glorieux trot, la bride glorievse.t 
 
 sickle-hammed. He had neither his head 
 ill set on, nor dull and hanging ears, nor 
 wolves' teeth, nor bladders in the mouth, nor 
 
 A horse who like that famous charger might 
 have said in his Epitaph 
 
 gigs, nor capped-hocks, nor round legs, nor 
 
 J* allay curieux 
 En chocs furieux. 
 
 grease, nor the chine-gall, the navel-gall, the 
 
 Sans craindre estrapade ; 
 
 spur-gall, the light-gall, or the shackle-gall ; 
 
 Mai rabotez lieux 
 Passex a cloz yeux. 
 
 nor the worms, nor the scratches, nor the 
 
 Sans fair e chopade. 
 
 colt-evil, nor the pole-evil, nor the quitter 
 
 La viste virade, 
 Pompante pennade, 
 
 bones, nor the curbs, nor the Anticore, nor 
 
 Le saut soui/zievant, 
 
 the pompardy, nor the rotten-frush, nor the 
 
 La roide ruade, 
 
 crown-scab, nor the cloyd, nor the web, 
 
 Prompte petarrade 
 Je mis en avatit. 
 
 nor the pin, nor the pearl, nor the howks, 
 
 Escumeur bavant 
 
 nor the haws, nor the vines, nor the paps, 
 
 Au manger sgavant, 
 An penser trts-doux f 
 
 nor the pose : nor the bladders, nor the sur- 
 
 Releve devant, 
 
 bate, nor the bloody riffs, nor sinews down, 
 
 Jusqu'au bout servant 
 
 nor mallenders, nor fallenders, nor sand 
 
 
 cracks, nor hurts in the joints, nor toes 
 
 Like that Arabian which Almanzar sent to 
 
 turned out, nor toes turned in, nor soft feet, 
 
 Antea's father, the Soldan, 
 
 nor hard feet, nor thrushes, nor corns. Nor 
 
 Egli avea lutte lefattexze pronte 
 
 did he beat upon the hand, nor did he carry 
 
 Di bnon caval, come udirete appresso. 
 
 low, nor did he carry in the wind. Neither 
 was he a crib-biter, nor a high-goer, nor a 
 daisy cutter, nor a cut-behind, nor a hammer 
 and pinchers, nor a wrong-end-first, nor a 
 
 Like those horses, described by Mr. Milman 
 in his version of the episode of Nala from 
 the Mahabharata, he was 
 
 
 t TAMING OF THE SHREW. } CLEMENT MAROT. 
 
 
 TUSSER. 
 
 5 PULCI.
 
 358 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 fit and powerful for the road ; 
 
 Blending mighty strength with fleetness, high in cou- 
 rage and in blood : 
 
 Free from all the well-known rices, broad of nostril, 
 large of jaw, 
 
 With the ten good marks distinguished, born in Sindhu, 
 fleet as wind. 
 
 Like these horses he was, except that 
 he was born in Yorkshire ; and being of 
 Tartarian blood it may be that he was one 
 of the same race with them. 
 
 He was not like the horses of Achilles ; 
 
 *EJ iufBinn ya,% ifBim tripvxirtf 
 Toy Hr,^.ias tpigeun Sot/fin yinn. 
 Aitvn 5" et'liTou; ;ra/.dxa.yf,ira.s 0,10% 
 njjXs? Horubuf, u; )dyi>ufi, srivriof.* 
 
 Like them therefore Nobs could not be, be- 
 cause he was a mortal horse ; and moreover 
 because he was not amphibious, as they must 
 have been. If there be any of their breed 
 remaining, it must be the immortal River, 
 or more properly Water-Horse of Loch 
 Lochy, who has sometimes, say the High- 
 landers, been seen feeding on the banks : 
 sometimes entices mares from the pasture, 
 sometimes overturns boats in his anger and 
 agitates the whole lake with his motion. 
 
 He was of a good tali stature ; his head 
 lean and comely ; his forehead out-swelling ; 
 his eyes clear, large, prominent and spark- 
 ling, with no part of the white visible ; his 
 ears short, small, thin, narrow and pricking ; 
 his eye-lids thin ; his eye-pits well-filled ; 
 his under-jaw thick but not fleshy ; his nose 
 arched ; his nostrils deep, open, and ex- 
 tended; his mouth well split and delicate; 
 his lips thin ; his neck deep, long, rising 
 straight from the withers, then curving like 
 a swan's ; his withers sharp and elevated ; 
 his breast broad ; his ribs bending; his chine 
 broad and straight ; his flank short and full; 
 his crupper round and plump ; his haunches 
 muscular : his thighs large and swelling ; 
 his hocks round before, tendonous behind, 
 and broad on the sides, the shank thin be- 
 fore, and on the sides broad ; his tendons 
 strong, prominent, and well detached ; his 
 pasterns short ; his fetlocks well-tufted, 
 the coronet somewhat raised; his hoofs 
 
 * EURIPIDES. 
 
 black, solid, and shining; his instep high, his 
 quarters round ; the heel broad ; the frog 
 thin and small ; the sole thin and concave. 
 
 Here I have to remark that the tufted 
 fetlocks Nobs derived from his dam Miss 
 Jenny. They belong not to the thorough- 
 bred race ; witness the hunting song, 
 
 Your high bred nags, 
 Your hairy legs, 
 We'll see which first come in, Sir. 
 
 He had two properties of a man, to wit, a 
 proud heart, and a hardy stomach. 
 
 He had the three parts of a woman, the 
 three parts of a lion, the three parts of a bul- 
 lock, the three parts of a sheep, the three 
 parts of a mule, the three parts of a deer, 
 the three parts of a wolf, the three parts of 
 a fox, the three parts of a serpent, and the 
 three parts of a cat, which are required in a 
 perfect horse. 
 
 For colour he was neither black-bay, 
 brown-bay, dapple-bay, black-grey, iron- 
 grey, sad-grey, branded-grey, sandy-grey, 
 dapple-grey, silver-grey, dun, mouse-dun, 
 flea-backed, ilea-bitten, rount, blossom, roan, 
 pye-bald, rubican, sorrel, cow-coloured 
 sorrel, bright sorrel, burnt sorrel, starling- 
 colour, tyger-colour, wolf-colour, deer- 
 colour, cream-colour, white, grey or black. 
 Neither was he green, like the horse which 
 the Emperor Severus took from the Par- 
 thians, and reserved for his share of the 
 spoil, with a Unicorn's horn and a white 
 Parrot ; et quil estima plus pour la rarete et 
 couleur naive et belle que pour la valeur, 
 comme certes il avoit raison : car, nul butin, 
 tantprecieux fut-il, ne Teust pu esgaler, et sur 
 tout ce cheval, nerd de nature. Such a horse 
 Rommel saw in the Duke of Parma's stables; 
 because of its green colour it was called 
 Speranza, and the Duke prized it above all 
 his other horses for the extreme rarity of 
 the colour, as being a jewel among horses, 
 yea a very emerald. 
 
 Nor was he peach-coloured roan, like 
 that horse which Maximilian de Bethune, 
 afterwards the famous Due de Sully, bought 
 at a horse-market forforty crowns, and which 
 was so poor a beast in appearance quil ne 
 sembloit propre qua porter la malle, and yet
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 359 
 
 turned out to be so excellent a horse that 
 Maximilian sold him to the Vidasme of Char- 
 tres for six hundred crowns. Sully was an 
 expert horse-dealer. He bought of Mon- 
 sieur de la Roche-Guyon one of the Guest 
 Spanish horses that ever was seen, and gave 
 six hundred crowns for him. Monsieur de 
 Nemours not being able to pay the money, 
 une tapisserie des forces de Hercule was re- 
 ceived either in pledge or payment, which 
 tapestry adorned the great hall at Sully, 
 when the veteran soldier and statesman had 
 the satisfaction of listening to the Memoires 
 de ce que Nous quatre, say the writers, qui 
 aeons este employex en diverses affaires de 
 France sous Monseigneur le Due de Sully, 
 avons peu sqavoir de sa vie, mceurs, diets, 
 f aicts, gestes et fortunes ; et de ce que luy- 
 mesme nous pent avoir appris de ceux de nos- 
 tre valeureux Alcide le Roy Henry le Grand, 
 depuis le mois de May 1572 (qu'il fut mis a 
 son service^) jusques au mois de May 1610, 
 quil laissa la t, rrc pour utter au Ciel. 
 
 No ! his colour was chesnut ; and it is a 
 saving founded on experience that a chesnut 
 horse is always a good one, and will do more 
 work than any horse of the same size of any 
 other colour. The horse which Wellington 
 rode at the Battle of Waterloo for fifteen 
 hours without dismounting, was a small 
 chesnut horse.* 
 
 This was the " thorough-bred red chesnut 
 charger" mentioned by Sir George Head, 
 when he relates an anecdote of the Duke of 
 Wellington and Sir Thomas Picton, who, 
 contrary to the Duke's intentions, seemed at 
 that moment likely to bring on an engage- 
 ment, not long after the battle of Orthez. 
 Having learned where Sir Thomas was, the 
 Duke set spurs to his horse ; the horse " tossed 
 up its head with a snort and impetuously 
 sprang forward at full speed, and in a few 
 
 * William Nicol, the printer of tlie original volumes, 
 and the friend of Sonthey and Bedford, added this para- 
 graph : The following extract is from Gleig's Story of 
 the Battle of Waterloo : " The gallant animal which had 
 carried his master safely through the fatigues and dangers 
 of the day, as if proud of the part which he had played in 
 the great game, threw up his heels just as the Duke turned 
 from him, and it was by a mere hair's breadth that the 
 life was preserved which, in a battle of ten hours' dura- 
 tion, had been left unscathed." c. xxxi. p. 254. 
 
 minutes, venire a terre, transported its gal- 
 lant rider, his white cloak streaming in the 
 breeze, to the identical copse distant about 
 half a mile from whence the firing of the 
 skirmishers proceeded. As horse and rider 
 furiously careered towards the spot, I fan- 
 cied," says Sir George, " I perceived by the 
 motion of the animal's tail, a type, through 
 the medium of the spur, of the quickened 
 energies of the noble Commander, on the 
 moment when for the first time he caught 
 view of Pictou." 
 
 This famous horse, named Copenhagen be- 
 cause he was foaled about the time of the 
 expedition against that City, died on the 12th 
 of February, 1836, at Strathfieldsaye of old 
 age ; there, where he had passed the last ten 
 years of his life in perfect freedom, he was 
 buried, and by the Duke's orders a salute 
 was fired over his grave. The Duchess used 
 to wear a bracelet made of his hair. Would 
 that I had some of thine in a broche, O 
 Nobs ! 
 
 Copenhagen has been wrongly described 
 in a newspaper as slightly made. A jockey 
 hearing this said of a horse would say, "cry 
 a thready thing ;" but Copenhagen was a 
 large horse in a small compass, as compact 
 a thorough-bred horse as ever run a race, 
 which he had done before he was bought and 
 sold to the Duke in Spain. "He was as 
 sweet gentle a creature," says a right good 
 old friend of mine, " as I ever patted, and 
 he came of a gentle race, by the mother's 
 side ; she was Meteora, daughter of Meteor, 
 and the best trait in her master's character, 
 Westminster's Marquis, was that his eyes 
 dropped tears when they told him she had 
 won a race, but being over weighted had 
 been much flogged." 
 
 He was worthy, like the horses of the 
 Greek Patriarch Theophylact, to have been 
 fed with pistachios, dates, dried grapes, and 
 figs steeped in the finest wines, that is to 
 say, if he would have preferred this diet to 
 good oats, clean hay, and sometimes, in case 
 of extraordinary exertion, an allowance of 
 bread soaked in ale. Wine the Doctor did 
 not find it necessary to give him, even in his 
 old age ; although he was aware of the
 
 360 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 benefit which the horse of Messire Philippe 
 De Coraines derived from it after the battle 
 of Montl'hery : J'avoye, says that saga- 
 cious soldier, un cneval extrememenl las et 
 vieil ; II beat un seau plein de vin ; par au- 
 cun cas (Taventure il y mit le museau ; Je le 
 laissay achever ; Jamais ne favoye trouve si 
 ban ne si frais. 
 
 He was not such a horse as that famous 
 one of Julius Caesar's, which had feet almost 
 like human feet, the hoofs being cleft after 
 the manner of toes. Leo X. had one which in 
 like manner had what Sir Charles Bell calls 
 digital extremities; and Geoffi-ey St. Hilaire, 
 he tells us, had seen one with three toes on 
 the fore-foot and four on the hind-foot ; and 
 such a horse was not long since exhibited in 
 London and at Newmarket, No ! Nobs 
 was not such a horse as this; if he had 
 been so mis-shapen he would have been a 
 monster. The mare which the Tetrarch of 
 Numidia sent to Grandgousier, and upon 
 which Gargantua rode to Paris, had feet of 
 this description ; but that mare was la plus 
 enorme et la plus grande que fut oncques 
 veiie, et la plus monntreuse. 
 
 He was a perfect horse ; worthy to be- 
 long to the perfect doctor, worthy of being 
 immortalised in this perfect history. And 
 it is not possible to praise him too much, 
 
 \xxui, errai laurn ur' r,u T' 
 
 not possible I repeat, porque, as D. Juan 
 Perez de Montalvan sa.js,parece que la Na- 
 turaleza le avia Jiecho, no con la prisa que 
 suele, sino con tanto espacio y perfection, que, 
 como quando un pintor acaba con felicidad un 
 lienzo, suele poner a su lado su nombre, assi 
 pudo la Naturaleza escrivir el suyo, como por 
 termino de su ciencia : which is, being trans- 
 lated, " Nature seemed to have made him, 
 not with her wonted haste, but with such 
 deliberation and perfection, that as a painter 
 when he finishes a picture successfully uses 
 to mark it with his name, so might Nature 
 upon this work have written hers, as being 
 the utmost of her skill ! " As Shakespeare 
 would have expressed it 
 
 * HOMER. 
 
 Nature might stand up ' 
 And say to all the world, this was a Horse. 
 
 In the words of an old romance, to de- 
 scribe him ainsi quil apartient seroit difficile 
 jusques a Fimpossibilite, beyond which no 
 difficulty can go. 
 
 He was as excellent a horse, the Doctor 
 used to say, as that which was first chosen 
 to be backed by Cain, and which the divine 
 Du Bartas, as rendered by the not less divine 
 Sylvester, thus describes, 
 
 With round, high, hollow, smooth, brown, jetty hoof; 
 
 With pasterns short, upright, but yet in mean ; 
 
 Dry sinewy shanks ; strong fleshless knees and lean ; 
 
 With hart-like legs ; broad breast, and large behind, 
 
 With body large, smooth flanks, and double chined ; 
 
 A crested neck, bowed like a half bent bow, 
 
 Whereon a long, thin, curled mane doth flow ; 
 
 A firm full tail, touching the lowly ground, 
 
 With dock between two fair fat buttocks drown'd ; 
 
 A pricked ear, that rests as little space 
 
 As his light foot ; a lean, bare, bony face, 
 
 Thin joule, and head but of a middle size ; 
 
 Full, lively-flaming, quickly-rolling eyes ; 
 
 Great foaming mouth, hot fuming nostril wide ; 
 
 Of chesnut hair, his forehead starrified ; 
 
 Three milky feet, a feather in his breast, 
 
 Whom seven-years-old at the next grass he guest. 
 
 In many respects he was like that horse 
 which the elder of the three Fracassins won 
 in battle in the Taprobanique Islands, in 
 the wars between the two dreadful Giant 
 Kings Gargamitre and Tartabas. Cefurieux 
 destrier estoit d'une taille fort belle, a jambe 
 de cerf, la poictrine ouvcrte, la croupe large, 
 grand corps, JIancs unis, double eschine, le col 
 voute comme un arc mi-tendu, sur lequel flot- 
 toit un long poil crespu ; la queue loiigue, 
 forme et espes.se ; Voreille poinctue et sans 
 repos, aussi lien que lepied, dune corne lissee, 
 retirant sur le noir, haute, ronde, et creuse, le 
 front sec, et riayant rien que Vos ; lea yeux 
 gros prompts et relevez ; la bouche grande, 
 escumeuse ; le nareau ronflant et ouvert ; poil 
 chastain, de Tage de sept ans. -Bref qui eut 
 voulu voir le modelle d"un beau, bon et gene- 
 reux cheval en estoit un. 
 
 Like this he was, except that he was never 
 Nobsfurieux, being as gentle and as docile 
 at seven years old, as at seventeen when it 
 was my good fortune to know and my pri- 
 vilege sometimes to ride him. 
 
 He was not such a horse as that for which 
 Muley, the General of the King of Fez, and
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 361 
 
 the Principe Constante D. Fernando fought, 
 when they found him without an owner upon 
 a field covered with slain ; a horse 
 
 Ian monitruo, que siendo hijo 
 del Viento, adoption pretends 
 del Fuego ; y entre los dot 
 lo desdize y lo desmiente 
 el color, pites siendn bianco 
 dize el Agua, parto es este 
 de mi esjera, sola yo 
 pude quaxarle de nieve. 
 
 Both leaped upon him at once, and fought 
 upon his back, and Calderon's Don Fernando 
 thus describes the battle, 
 
 En la silla y en las ancas 
 puestos los dos juntamente, 
 mares de sangre rompimos ; 
 por cuyas ondas crueles 
 este baxel animado, 
 hecho proa de lafrente, 
 rompiendo el gtobo de nacar. 
 desde el codon al copete, 
 parecio entre cspuma y sangre, 
 ya que baxel quise hazerle, 
 de quatro espuelas herido, 
 que quatro vientos le mueven, 
 
 He did not either in his marks or trap- 
 pings resemble Rabicano, as Chiabrera 
 describes him, when Rinaldo having lost 
 Bayardo, won this famous horse from the 
 Giant to whose keeping Galafron had com- 
 mitted him after Argalia's death. 
 
 Era si negro I' animal guerriero, 
 dual pece d'Ida ; e solamente enfronte 
 E sulla coda biancheggiava ilpelo, 
 E del pie manco, e deretano I'unghia ; 
 Ma confren d'oro, e con dorati arcioni. 
 Sdegna tremando ogni reposo, e vibra 
 Le tcse orecchie, e per levarsi avvampa, 
 E col J "errata pic non e mai stance 
 Battere il prato, e tuite I'aure sfida 
 Al sonar de magnanimi nitriti. 
 
 Galafron had employed 
 
 Tutto /'Inferno a far veloce in corso 
 dual negro corridor. 
 
 Notwithstanding which Rabicano appears 
 to have been a good horse, and to have had 
 no vice in him ; and yet his equine virtues 
 were not equal to those of Nobs, nor would 
 he have suited the Doctor so well. 
 
 Lastly, he was not such a Horse as that 
 goodly one " of Cneiiis Seiiis which had all 
 the perfections that could be named for 
 stature, feature, colour, strength, limbs, 
 comeliness, belonging to a horse ; but withal, 
 this misery ever went along with him, that 
 whosoever became owner of him was sure to 
 
 die an unhappy death." Nor did the pos- 
 session of that fatal horse draw on the de- 
 struction of his owner alone, but the ruin 
 of his whole family and fortune. So it 
 proved in the case of his four successive 
 Masters, Cneiiis Seiiis, Cornelius Dolabella, 
 Caius Cassius, and Mark Antony, whom, if 
 I were to call by his proper name Marcus 
 Antonius, half my readers would not recog- 
 nise. This horse was foaled in the territory 
 of Argos *, and his pedigree was derived from 
 the anthropophagous stud of the tyrant 
 Diomedes. He was of surpassing size, hand 
 credibili pidchritudine vigore et colore exu- 
 berantissimo, being purple with a tawney 
 mane. No ! Nobs was not such a horse as 
 this. 
 
 Though neither in colour nor in marks, 
 yet in many other respects the description 
 may be applied to him which Merlinus 
 Cocaius has given in his first Macaronea of 
 the horse on which Guido appeared at that 
 tournament where he won the heart of the 
 Princess Baldovina. 
 
 Huic mantellus erat nigrior carbone galantus, 
 Parvaque testa, breves agilesque movebat orecchias ; 
 Frontis et in media Jaciebat Stella decorem. 
 Frena biassabat, nareique tenebat apertas. 
 Pectore moslazzo tangit, se reddit in unum 
 Groppetlum, sotusque viam galopando tnisurat, 
 Gojfiat, et curtos agitant sua col la capillos. 
 Balzanta tribus est pedibus, cum pectore largo, 
 Ac inter gambas tenet arcto corpore caudam ; 
 Spaventat, volgitque oculos Mnc indefogatos ; 
 Semper et ad solam currit remanetque sbrialam, 
 Innaspatque pedes naso boffante priores. 
 
 That he should have been a good horse is 
 not surprising, seeing that though of foreign 
 extraction on the one side, he was of Eng- 
 lish birth, whereby, and by his dam, he par- 
 took the character of English horses. Now 
 as it has been discreetly said, " Our English 
 horses have a mediocrity of all necessary 
 good properties in them, as neither so slight 
 as the Barbe ; nor so slovenly as the Flem- 
 ish ; nor so fiery as the Hungarian ; nor so 
 aery as the Spanish Gennets, (especially if, 
 as reported, they be conceived of the wind ; ) 
 nor so earthly as those in the Low Coun- 
 tries, and generally all the German Horse. 
 
 Cf. Aul. Cell. Noct. Att lib. iii. c. ix., where the 
 other proverb of Attrum Tolosanum, so often referred to 
 in our old writers, ig explained likewise.
 
 362 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 For stature and strength they are of a middle 
 size, and are both seemly and serviceable in 
 a good proportion. And whilst the seller : 
 praiseth them too much, the buyer too little, 
 the indifferent stander-by will give them 
 this due commendation." * 
 
 A reasonably good horse therefore he 
 might have been expected to prove as being 
 English, and better than ordinary English 
 horses as being Yorkshire. For saith the 
 same judicious author, " Yorkshire doth 
 breed the best race of English horses, whose 
 keeping commonly in steep and stony ground 
 biingeth them to firmness of footing and 
 hardness of hoof; whereas a stud of horses 
 bred in foggy, fenny ground, and soft, rotten 
 morasses, (delicacy marrs both man and 
 beast,) have often a fen in their feet, being 
 soft, and soon subject to be foundered. Well 
 may Philip be so common a name amongst 
 the gentry of this country, who are generally 
 so delighted in horsemanship." 
 
 Very good therefore there might have 
 been fair ground for hoping that Nobs would 
 prove; but that he should have proved so 
 good, so absolutely perfect in his kind and 
 for his uses, was beyond all hope all ex- 
 pectation. 
 
 " I have done with this subject, the same 
 author continues, when I have mentioned 
 the monition of David, ' an Horse is but a 
 vain thing to save a man,' though it is no 
 vain thing to slay a man, by many casual- 
 ties : such need we have, whether waking or 
 sleeping, whether walking or riding, to put, 
 ourselves by prayer into Divine Protection." 
 
 Such a reflection is in character with the 
 benevolent and pious writer ; and conveys 
 indeed a solemn truth which ought always to 
 be borne in mind. Its force will not be 
 weakened though I should remark that the 
 hero of a horse which I have endeavoured 
 to describe may in a certain sense be said to 
 afford an exception to David's saying : for 
 there were many cases in which, according 
 to all appearance, the patient could not have 
 been saved unless the Doctor had by means 
 of his horse Nobs arrived in time. 
 
 * FULLER. 
 
 His moral qualities indeed were in as 
 great perfection as his physical ones ; but 
 ilfautfuire des.ormais une fin au discours de 
 ce grand ckeval ; car, tant plus que fentrerois 
 dans le labyrinthe de ses vertus, tant plus je 
 rny perdrois. With how much more fitness 
 may I say this of Nobs, than Brantome said 
 it of Francis I. ! 
 
 When in the fifteenth century the noble 
 Valencian Knight, Mossen Manuel Diez ac- 
 companied Alonso to the conquest of the 
 kingdom of Naples, he there had occasion to 
 remark of how great importance it was that 
 the knights should be provided with good 
 horses in time of war, that they might 
 thereby be the better able to increase the 
 honour and extend the dominions of their 
 king ; and that in time of their old age and 
 the season of repose they-should have for 
 their recreation good mules. He resolved 
 therefore to compose a book upon the nature 
 and qualities of these animals, and the way 
 of breeding them, and preserving them 
 sound, and in good condition and strong. 
 And although he was well versed in these 
 things himself, nevertheless he obtained the 
 king's orders for calling together all the best 
 Albeytares, that is to say in old speech, far- 
 riers, horse-doctors, or horse-leeches, and in 
 modern language Veterinary surgeons ; all 
 which could assemble were convened, and 
 after due consultation with them, he com- 
 posed that Libre de Menescalid, the original 
 of which in the Valencian dialect was among 
 the MSS. that Pope Alexander VII. col- 
 lected, and which began In nome sia de la 
 Sancta Trinitat, que es Pare, e Fill, e Sant 
 Spirit, tot hum Deu ; and which he as Ma- 
 jordom of the molt alt e poderos Princep, e 
 victorias Signior Don Alfonso, Re de Ragona, 
 SfC. set forth to show to alsjovents Cavellers, 
 gran part de la practica e de la conexenza del 
 Cavalls, e de lurs malaties, e gran part de les 
 cures di aquells. If Nobs had lived in those 
 days, worthy would he have been to have 
 been in all particulars described in that 
 work, to have had an equestrian order insti- 
 tuted in his honour, and have been made a 
 Rico Cavallo, the first who obtained that 
 rank.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 363 
 
 CHAPTER CXLIV. 
 
 HISTORY AND ROMANCE RANSACKED FOB 
 RESEMBLANCES AND NON-RESEMBLANCES 
 TO THE HORSE OF DOCTOR DANIEL DOVE. 
 
 Renowned beast ! (forgive poetic flight !) 
 Not less than man, deserves poetic right. 
 
 TUB BKUCIAD. 
 
 WHEN I read of heroic horses in heroic 
 books, I cannot choose but remember Nobs, 
 and compare him with them, not in parti- 
 cular qualities, but in the sum total of their 
 good points, each in his way. They may 
 resemble each other as little as Rabelais 
 and Rousseau, Shakespeare and Sir Isaac 
 Newton, Paganini and the Duke of Wel- 
 lington, yet be alike in this, that each had 
 no superior in his own line of excellence. 
 
 Thus when I read of the courser which 
 Prince Meridiano presented to Alphebus, 
 the Knight of the Sun, after the Prince had 
 been defeated by him in the presence of his 
 Sister Lindabridis, I think of Nobs, though 
 Cornelin was marvellously unlike the Doc- 
 tor's perfect roadster. For Cornelin was so 
 named because he had a horn growing from 
 the middle of his forehead ; and he had four 
 joints at the lower part of his legs, which 
 extraordinary formation, (I leave anatomists 
 to explain how,) made him swifter than all 
 other horses, insomuch that his speed was 
 likened to the wind. It was thought that 
 his Sire was an Unicorn, though his dam 
 was certainly a mare : and there was this 
 reason for supposing such to be the case, 
 that Meridiano was son to the emperor of 
 Great Tartary, in which country the hybrid 
 race between Unicorn and Mare was not 
 uncommon in those days. 
 
 When the good Knight of the Sun en- 
 gaged in single combat with the Giant 
 Bradaman, this noble horse stood him in 
 good stead : for Bradaman rode an elephant, 
 and as they ran at each other, Cornelin 
 thrust his natural spike into the elephant's 
 poitrel, and killed him on the spot. 
 
 Cornelin did special service on another 
 occasion, when some Knights belonging to a 
 Giant King of the Sards, who had established 
 
 one of those atrocious customs which it was 
 the duty of all Errant Knights to suppress, 
 met with the Good Knight of the Sun ; and 
 one of them said he would allow him to turn 
 back and go away in peace, provided he 
 gave him his arms and his horse, " if the 
 horse be thine own," said he, " inasmuch as 
 he liketh me hugely." The Good Knight 
 made answer with a smile " my arms I shall 
 not give, because I am not used to travel 
 without them ; and as for my horse, none 
 but myself can mount him." The discour- 
 teous Knight made answer with an oath 
 that he would see whether he could defend 
 the horse ; and with that he attempted to 
 seize the bridle. No sooner had he ap- 
 proached within Cornelin's reach, than that 
 noble steed opened his mouth, caught him 
 by the shoulder, lifted him up, dropped him, 
 and then trampled on him si rudement que 
 son ame s'envola a celuy a qui elle estoit pour 
 ses malefices. Upon this another of these 
 insolent companions drew his sword, and 
 was about to strike at Cornelin's legs, but 
 Cornelin reared, and with both his fore-feet 
 struck him on the helmet with such force, 
 that no armourer could repair the outer 
 head-piece, and no surgeon the inner one. 
 
 It was once disputed in France whether 
 a horse could properly be said to have a 
 mouth ; a wager concerning it was laid, and 
 referred to no less a person than a Judge, 
 because, says a Frenchman, "our French 
 Judges are held in such esteem that they 
 are appealed to upon the most trifling occa- 
 sions." The one party maintained qu'il fal- 
 loit dire la gueule a toutes bestes, et qu'il n'y 
 avoit que Thomme qui eust bouche ; but the 
 Judge decided, qua cause de ^excellence du 
 cheval, il falloit dire la bouche. The Giant 
 King's Knights must have been of the 
 Judge's opinion when they saw Cornelin 
 make but a mouthful of their companion. 
 
 When our English Judges are holden in 
 such esteem as to be referred to on such 
 occasions, they do not always entertain the 
 appeal. Mr. Brougham when at the Bar 
 that Mr. Brougham (if posterity inquires 
 whom I mean) who was afterwards made 
 Lord Chancellor and of whom Sir Edward
 
 364 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Sugden justly observed, that if he had but 
 a smattering of law he would know some- 
 thing of everything Mr. Brougham, I say, 
 opened before Lord Chief Justice Tenterden 
 an action for the amount of a wager laid 
 upon the event of a dog-fight, which through 
 some unwillingness of dogs or men had not 
 been brought to an issue : " We, My Lord," 
 said the advocate, "were minded that the 
 dogs should fight" " Then I," replied the 
 Judge, " am minded to hear no more of it ; " 
 and he called another cause. 
 
 No wager would ever have been left un- 
 decided through any unwillingness to fight 
 on the part of Cornelin or of his Master the 
 Knight of the Sun. 
 
 When that good Knight of the Sun seek- 
 ing death in his despair landed upon the 
 Desolate Island, there to encounter a mon- 
 ster called Faunus el Endemoniado, that is 
 to say, the Bedevilled Faun, he resolved in 
 recompense for all the service that Cornelin 
 had done him to let him go free for life : so 
 taking off his bridle and saddle and all his 
 equipments, he took leave of him in these 
 sorrowful words : " O my good Horse, full 
 grievously do I regret to leave thee ! Would 
 it were but in a place where thou mightest 
 be looked to and tended according to thy 
 deserts ! For if Alexander of Macedon did 
 such honour to his dead horse that he caused 
 a sepulchre to be erected for him and a city 
 to be called after his name, with much more 
 reason might I show honour to thee while 
 thou art living, who art so much better than 
 he. Augustus had his dead horse buried 
 that he might not be devoured by carrion 
 birds. Didius Julianus consecrated a mar- 
 ble statue of his in the Temple of Venus. 
 Lucius Verus had the likeness of his while 
 living cast in gold. But I who have 
 done nothing for thee, though thou sur- 
 passest them all in goodness, what can I do 
 now but give thee liberty that thou mayest 
 enjoy it like other creatures ? Go then, my 
 good Horse, the last companion from whom 
 I part in this world ! " Saying this, he 
 made as if he would have struck him to 
 send him off. But here was a great marvel 
 in this good horse: for albeit he was now 
 
 free and with nothing to encumber him, he 
 not only would not go away, but instead 
 thereof approached his master, his whole 
 body trembling, and the more the Knight 
 threatened the more he trembled and the 
 nearer he drew. The Knight of the Sun 
 knew not what he should do, for on the one 
 hand he understood in what danger this 
 good horse would be if he should be per- 
 ceived by the Faun ; and on the other 
 threaten him as he would he could not drive 
 him away. At length he concluded to leave 
 him at liberty, thinking that peradventure 
 he would take flight as soon as he should see 
 the Faun. He was not mistaken ; Cornelin 
 would have stood by his Master in the dread- 
 ful combat in which he was about to engage, 
 and would peradventure have lost his life in 
 endeavouring to aid him ; but the Bedevilled 
 Faun had been so named because he had a 
 hive of Devils in his inside ; fire came from 
 his mouth and nostrils as he rushed against 
 the Knight, and swarms of armed Devils 
 were breathed out with the flames ; no 
 wonder therefore that even Cornelin took 
 fright and galloped away. 
 
 But when Alphebus had slain the Bede- 
 villed Faun, and lived alone upon the 
 Desolate Island, like a hermit, waiting and 
 wishing for death, eating wild fruits and 
 drinking of a spring which welled near some 
 trees, under which he had made for himself 
 a sort of bower, Cornelin used often to visit 
 him in his solitude. It was some consolation 
 to the unhappy Knight to see the good horse 
 that he loved so well : but then again it 
 redoubled his grief as he called to mind the 
 exploits he had performed when mounted 
 upon that famous courser. The displeasure 
 of his beautiful and not less valiant than 
 beautiful mistress the Princess Claridiana 
 had caused his wretchedness, and driven him 
 to this state of despair ; and when Claridiana 
 being not less wretched herself, came to the 
 Desolate Island in quest of him, the first 
 thing that she found was the huge and 
 broken limb of a tree with which he had 
 killed the Faun, and the next was Cornelia's 
 saddle and bridle and trappings, which she 
 knew by the gold and silk embroidery,
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 365 
 
 tarnished as it was, and by the precious 
 stones. Presently she saw the good horse 
 Cornelin himself, who had now become well 
 nigh wild, and came toward her bounding 
 and neighing, and rejoicing at the sight of 
 her horse, for it was long since he had seen a 
 creature of his own kind. But he started 
 off when she would have laid hold of him, 
 for he could not brook that any but his own 
 master should come near him now. Howbeit 
 she followed his track, and was thus guided 
 to the spot where her own good Knight was 
 wasting his miserable life. 
 
 Nobs was as precious a horse to the 
 Doctor as Vegliantino was to Rinaldo, that 
 noble courser whom the Harpies killed, and 
 whom Rinaldo, after killing the whole host 
 of Harpies, buried sorowfully, kneeling 
 down and kissing his grave. He intended 
 to go in mourning and afoot for his sake all 
 the rest of his life, and wrote for him this 
 epitaph upon a stone, in harpy's blood and 
 with the point, of his sword. 
 
 Qui giacc regltantin, caral de Spagna, 
 Orrido in guerra, e tutto grazie in pace ; 
 Servi Rinaldo in Francia ed in Lamagna, 
 Ed ebbe ingegno e spirto si vivace 
 Che averebbe coi piefatto una ragna ; 
 Accorto, destro, nobile ed audace, 
 Mori qttal forte, e confronts superba ; 
 tu, che passi, gettagli un pd d'erba.* 
 
 He was as sagacious a horse and as gentle as 
 Frontalatte, who in the heroic age of horses 
 was 
 
 Sopra ogni altro caral savio ed umano.^ 
 
 When the good Magician Atlante against 
 his will sent his pupil Ruggiero forth, and 
 provided him with arms and horse, he gave 
 him this courser which Sacripante had lost, 
 saying to him 
 
 certamente so che potral dire 
 Che 'Iprmcipe Rinaldo e 'I conte Orlando 
 Kon ha miglior caval.\ 
 Avendo altro signore, ebbe altro name ; 
 
 His new master called him Frontino 
 
 // mondo nan avea pito bel destriero, 
 
 **** 
 
 Or sopra avendo il giovane Ruggiero, 
 f'itt vaga cosa non si vide mai. 
 Chi guardasse il cavallo e' I cavaliero 
 Starebbe a dar (indicia in dubbio assai, 
 Sefusser vivi, ofatti col pennello, 
 Tanto era C uneV altro egregio e 
 
 * RlCCIARDETTO. 
 
 t ORLANDO INAMORATO. 
 
 Nobs was not like that horse now living 
 at Brussels, who is fond of raw flesh, and 
 getting one day out of his stable found his 
 way to a butcher's shop and devoured two 
 breasts of mutton, mutton it seems being his 
 favourite meat. If his pedigree could be 
 traced we might expect to find that he was 
 descended from the anthropophagous stud of 
 that abominable Thracian King whom Her- 
 cules so properly threw to his own horses 
 for food. 
 
 Nor was he like that other horse of the 
 same execrable extraction, whom in an evil 
 day Rinaldo, having won him in battle, sent 
 as a present by the damsel Hipalca to 
 Ruggiero, that Clarion 
 
 A quien el cielo con rigor maldixo, 
 Y una bcldad le did tan codiciada ; 
 
 that fatal horse who, as soon as Ruggiero 
 mounted him, carried his heroic master into 
 the ambush prepared for him, in which he 
 was treacherously slain. The tragedy not 
 ending there, for one of the traitors took 
 this horse for his reward, and his proper 
 reward he had with him. 
 
 Puso/e el traidor pernas, com'6 elfuerte 
 Desenfrenado potro hasta arrojailo, 
 En media de la plaza de Marsella, 
 A ojos de Bradamante, y tu doncella. 
 Alii en presencia suyo hecho pedazos 
 Al Magances dezo el caballofifro : 
 Viendole Hipalca muerto entre los brazos, 
 Y no en sti silla qual penso a Rugero, 
 Notarial via los cavilosos lazos 
 Delfementido bando de Pontiero. 
 Allerdse la bella Bradamante 
 Y el sobresalto le aborto tin infante. 
 
 Y al quinto dia con la nueva cierta 
 
 De la muerte infeliz del paladino, 
 
 La antes dudosa amante qued6 muerta, 
 
 Y cumplido el temor del adivino. 
 
 Y par lantas desgracias descubierta 
 
 La Iraicion de Manama, un rio sanguino 
 
 Labro Morgana, y de la gente impia 
 
 Cienfalsos Condes degolld en tin dia.f 
 
 Eso quieren decir las desgracias del Cdballo 
 Clarion, says the author of this poem El 
 Doctor Don Bernardo de Balbuena, in the 
 allegory which he annexes to the Canto, que 
 la fuerza de las estrellas predoniina en los 
 brutos, y en la parte sensitiva, y no en el 
 albedrio humano y voluntad racional. 
 
 Neither did Nobs resemble in his taste 
 
 t BALBUENA.
 
 366 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 that remarkable horse which Dr. Tyson 
 frequently saw in London at the beginning 
 of the last century. This horse would eat 
 oysters with great delight, scrunching them 
 shells and all between his teeth. Accident 
 developed in him this peculiar liking; for 
 being fastened one day at a tavern-door 
 where there happened to be a tub standing 
 with oysters in it, the water first attracted 
 him, and then the fresh odour of fish induced 
 him to try his teeth upon what promised to 
 be more savoury than oats and not much 
 harder than horse-beans. From that time 
 he devoured them with evident satisfaction 
 whenever they were offered him ; and he 
 might have become as formidable a visitor 
 to the oyster-shops, if oyster-shops there 
 then had been, as the great and never-to-be- 
 forgotten Dando himself. 
 
 He was not like the Colt which Boyle 
 describes, who had a double eye, that is to 
 say two eyes in one socket, in the middle of 
 his forehead, a Cyclops of a horse. 
 
 Nor was he like the coal-black steed on 
 which the Trappist rode, fighting against the 
 Liberates as heartily as that good Christian 
 the Bishop Don Hieronimo fought with the 
 Cid Campeador against the Moors, elevating 
 the Crucifix in one hand, and with his sword 
 in the other smiting them for the love of 
 Charity. That horse never needed food or 
 sleep : he never stumbled at whatever speed, 
 his master found it needful to ride down the 
 most precipitous descent ; his eyes emitted 
 light to show the Trappist his way in the 
 darkness ; the tramp of his hoofs was heard 
 twenty miles around, and whatsoever man 
 in the enemy's camp first heard the dreadful 
 sound knew that his fate was fixed, and he 
 must inevitably die in the ensuing fight. 
 Nobs resembled this portentous horse as 
 little as the Doctor resembled the terrible 
 Trappist. Even the great black horse which 
 used to carry old George, as William Dove 
 called the St. George of Quakerdom, far 
 exceeded him in speed. The Doctor was 
 never seen upon his back in the course of 
 the same hour at two places sixty miles 
 apart from each other. There was nothing 
 supernatural in Nobs. His hippogony, 
 
 even if it had been as the Doctor was willing 
 to have it supposed he thought probable, 
 would upon his theory have been in the 
 course of nature, though not in her usual 
 course. 
 
 Olaus Magnus assigns sundry reasons why 
 the Scandinavian horses were hardier, and 
 in higher esteem than those of any other 
 part of the World. They would bear to be 
 shod without kicking or restraint. They 
 would never allow other horses to eat their 
 provender. They saw their way better in 
 the dark. They regarded neither frost nor 
 snow. They aided the rider in battle both 
 with teeth and hoofs. Either in ascending 
 or descending steep and precipitous places 
 they were sure-footed. At the end of a 
 day's journey a roll in the sand or the snow 
 took off their fatigue and increased their 
 appetite. They seldom ailed anything, and 
 what ailments they had were easily cured. 
 Moreover they were remarkable for one 
 thing, 
 
 Ch' a dire e brutto, ed a tacerlo t hello * 
 
 and which, instead of translating or quoting 
 
 the Dane's Latin, I must intimate by 
 
 saying that it was never necessary to whistle 
 to them. 
 
 Nobs had none of the qualities which cha- 
 racterised the Scandinavian horses, and in 
 which their excellencies consisted, as pe- 
 culiarly fitting them for their own country. 
 But he was equally endowed with all those 
 which were required in his station. There 
 was not a surer-footed beast in the West 
 Riding ; and if he did not see his way in the 
 dark by the light of his own eyes like the 
 black horse of the Trappist, and that upon 
 which the Old Woman of Berkeley rode 
 double behind One more formidable than the 
 Trappist himself, when she was taken out of 
 her coffin of stone and earned bodily away, 
 he saw it as well as any mortal horse 
 could see, and knew it as well as John 
 Gough the blind botanist of Kendal, or John 
 Metcalf the blind guide of Knaresborough. 
 
 But of all his good qualities that for which 
 the Doctor prized him most was the kind- 
 
 Rl'CELLAI.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 367 
 
 ness of his disposition, not meaning by those 
 words what Gentlemen-feeders and pro- 
 fessors of agriculture mean. " It is the 
 Grazier's own fault," says one of those 
 professors, " if ever he attempts to fatten an 
 unkind beast," kindness of disposition in 
 a beast importing in their language, that it 
 fattens soon. What it meant in the Doc- 
 tor's, the following authentic anecdote may 
 show. 
 
 The Doctor had left Nobs one day standing 
 near the door of a farm-house with his bridle 
 thrown over a gate-post ; one of the farmer's 
 children, a little boy just old enough to run 
 into danger, amused himself by pulling the 
 horse's tail with one hand and striking him 
 with a little switch across the legs with the 
 other. The mother caught sight of this and 
 ran in alarm to snatch the urchin away ; but 
 before she could do this, Nobs lifted up 
 one foot, placed it against the boy's stomach, 
 and gently pushed him down. The ground 
 was wet, so that the mark of his hoof showed 
 where he had placed it, and it was evident 
 that what he had dope was done carefully 
 not to injure the child, for a blow upon that 
 part must have been fatal. This was what 
 the Doctor called kindness of disposition in 
 a horse. Let others argue if they please 
 que le cheval avoit quelque raison, et qu'il 
 ratiocinoit entre toutes les autres bestes, a cause 
 du temperament de son cerveau * ; here, as 
 he justly said, was sufficient proof of con- 
 sideration, and good nature. 
 
 He was not like the heroic horse which 
 Ainadis won in the Isle Perilous, when in 
 his old age he was driven thither by a tem- 
 pest, though the adventure has been preter- 
 mitted in his great history. After the death 
 of that old, old, very old and most famous 
 of all Knights, this horse was enchanted by 
 the Magician Alchiso. Many generations 
 passed away before he was overcome and dis- 
 enchanted by Rinaldo ; and he then became 
 so famous by his well-known name Bajardo, 
 that for the sole purpose of winning this 
 horse and the sword Durlindana, which was 
 as famous among swords as Bajardo among 
 
 BOUCHET. 
 
 horses, Gradasso came from India to invade 
 France with an army of an hundred and 
 fifty thousand knights. If Nobs had been 
 like him, think what a confusion and con- 
 sternation his appearance would have pro- 
 duced at Doncaster races ! 
 
 Ecco appare il cavaUo, e i calci lira, 
 Efa saitando m del ben mills rote ; 
 Delle narici ilfoco accolto spira, 
 Mtiove V orecchie, e /* empie membra senate j 
 A soist, a sterpi, a piante ei nun rimira, 
 Mafracassando il lutto, urta e percote ; 
 Col nitrito i nemici afiera guerra 
 Sfida, e cd pie fa rimbombar la tierra.^ 
 
 Among the Romans he might have been 
 in danger of being selected for a victim to 
 Mars, on the Ides of December. The Mas- 
 sagetse would have sacrificed him to the 
 Sun, to whom horses seem to have been 
 offered wherever he was worshipped.'}; He 
 might have escaped in those countries where 
 white horses were preferred on such occa- 
 sions : a preference for which a commenta- 
 tor upon Horace accounts by the unlucky 
 conjecture that it was because they were 
 swifter than any others. 
 
 No better horse was ever produced from 
 that celebrated breed which Dionysius the 
 Tyrant imported into Sicily from the Veneti. 
 No better could have been found among 
 all the progeny of the fifty thousand Mares 
 belonging to the Great King, upon the Great 
 Plain which the Greeks called Hippobotus 
 because the Median herb which was the 
 best pasture for horses abounded there. 
 Whether the Nisaean horses, which were 
 used by kings, were brought from thence 
 or from Armenia, ancient Authors have not 
 determined. 
 
 There was a tomb not far from the gates 
 at Athens, ascending from the Piraeus, on 
 which a soldier was represented standing 
 beside a Horse. All that was known of this 
 monument in the age of Adrian was that it 
 
 t TASSO. 
 
 J " Ne detur celeri victim* tarda Deo." OVID, Fast. 
 Cf. 2 Kings, xxiii. 11. 
 
 Is there any mistake here? The allusion is to Sal. 
 Tii. 8. " Equis praecurreret albis?" Horace had in view 
 Iliad, x. 436. Virgil has, with reference to PilumnuV 
 horses, " Qui candore nivei anteirent, cursibus auras." 
 /En. xii. 84.
 
 368 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 was the work of Praxiteles ; the name of ] 
 the person whose memory it was intended to 
 preserve had perished. If Nobs and his 
 Master had flourished at the same time with 
 Praxiteles, that great sculptor would have 
 thought himself worthily employed in pre- 
 serving likenesses for posterity of the one 
 and the other. He was worthy to have been 
 modelled by Phidias or Lysippus. I will 
 not wish that Chantrey had been what he 
 now is, the greatest of living sculptors, four- 
 score years ago : but I may wish that Nobs 
 and the Doctor had lived at the time when 
 Chantrey could have made a bust of the one 
 and a model of the other, or an equestrian 
 statue to the joint honour of both. 
 
 Poppaea would have had such a horse shod 
 with shoes of gold. Caligula would have 
 made him Consul. William Rufus would 
 have created him by a new and appropriate 
 title Lord Horse of London Town. 
 
 When the French had a settlement in the 
 Island of Madagascar, their Commander, 
 who took the title of Viceroy, assembled a 
 force of 3000 natives against one of the most 
 powerful native Chiefs, and sent with them 
 140 French under the Sieur de Chamargou. 
 This officer had just then imported from 
 India the first horse which had ever been 
 seen in Madagascar, and though oxnianship 
 was practised by this people, as by some of 
 the tribes on the adjacent coast of Africa, 
 those oxriders were astonished at the horse ; 
 ils luy rendoierd. meine des respects si profonds, 
 que tons ceux qui envoyoient quelque deputa- 
 tion vers le General de cette armee, ne man- 
 quoient point de faire des presens et des 
 complimens a Monsieur le Cheval. If Nobs 
 had been that Horse, he would have deserved 
 all the compliments that could have been 
 paid him. 
 
 He would have deserved too, as far as 
 Horse could have deserved, the more extra- 
 ordinary honours which fell to the lot of a 
 coal-black steed, belonging to a kinsman of 
 Cortes by name Palacios Rubios. In that 
 expedition which Cortes made against his 
 old friend and comrade Christoval de Olid, 
 who in defiance of him had usurped a 
 government for himself, the Spaniards, after 
 
 suffering such privations and hardships of" 
 every kind as none but Spaniards could 
 with the same patience have endured, came 
 to some Indian settlements called the Mazo- 
 tecas, being the name of a species of deer in 
 the form of one of which the Demon whom 
 the natives worshipped had once, they said, 
 appeared to them, and enjoined them never 
 to kill or molest in any way an animal of 
 that kind. They had become so tame in 
 consequence, that they manifested no fear at 
 the appearance of the Spaniards, nor took 
 flight till they were attacked. The day was 
 exceedingly hot, and as the hungry hunters 
 followed the chase with great ardour, 
 Rubios's horse was overheated, and as the 
 phrase was, melted his grease. Cortes there- 
 fore charged the Indians of the Province of 
 Itza to take care of him while he proceeded 
 on his way to the Coast of Honduras, saying 
 that as soon as he fell in with the Spaniards 
 of whom he was in quest, he would send for 
 him ; horses were of great value at that 
 time, and this was a very good one. The 
 Itzaex were equally in fear of Cortes and 
 the Horse ; they did not indeed suppose 
 horse and rider to be one animal, but they 
 believed both to be reasonable creatures, 
 and concluded that what was acceptable to 
 the one would be so to the other. So they 
 offered him fowls to eat, presented nosegays 
 to him of their most beautiful and fragrant 
 flowers, and treated him as they would have 
 treated a sick Chief, till, to their utter dis- 
 may, he was starved to death. What was 
 to be done when Cortes should send for 
 him ? The Cacique, with the advice of his 
 principal men, gave orders that an Image of 
 the Horse should be set up in the temple of 
 his town, and that it should be worshipped 
 there by the name of Tziminchac, as the 
 God of Thunder and Lightning, which it 
 seemed to them were used as weapons by the 
 Spanish Horsemen. The honour thus paid 
 to the Horse would they thought obtain 
 credit for the account which they must give 
 to the Spaniards, and prove that they had 
 not wilfully caused his death. 
 
 The Itzaex, however, heard nothing of the 
 Spaniards, nor the Spaniards of liubios's
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 369 1 
 
 black horse, till nearly an hundred years 
 afterwards two Franciscans of the province 
 of Yucatan went as Missionaries among 
 these Indians, being well versed in the Maya 
 tongue, which is spoken in that country ; 
 their names were Bartolome de Fuensalida 
 and Juan de Orbita. The chief settlement 
 was upon an Island in the Lake of Itza; 
 there they landed, not with the good will 
 either of the Cacique or the people, and 
 entering the place of worship, upon one of 
 their great Cus or Pyramids they beheld the 
 Horse-Idol, which was then more venerated 
 than all the other Deities. Indignant at the 
 sight, Father Orbita took a great stone and 
 broke to pieces the clay statue, in defiance 
 of the cries and threats with which he was 
 assailed. "Kill him who has killed our God," 
 they exclaimed ; " kill him! kill him ! " The 
 Spaniards say the serene triumph and the 
 unwonted beauty which beamed in Orbita 1 s 
 countenance at that moment made it evident 
 that he was acting under a divine impulse. 
 His companion Fuensalida, acting in the 
 same spirit, held up the Crucifix, and ad- 
 dressed so passionate and powerful an appeal 
 to the Itzaex in their own language upon 
 the folly and wickedness of their Idolatry 
 and the benefits of the Gospel which he. 
 preached, that they listened to him with 
 astonishment, and admiration, and awe, and 
 followed the Friars respectfully from the 
 place of worship, and allowed them to depart 
 in safety- 
 
 These Franciscan Missionaries, zealous and 
 intrepid as they were, did but half their 
 work. Many years afterwards when D. 
 Martin de Ursua defeated the Itzaex in an 
 action on the Lake, and took the Peten or 
 Great Island, he found, in what appears to 
 have been the same Adoratory, a decayed 
 shin bone, suspended from the roof by three 
 strings of different coloured cotton, a little 
 bag beneath containing smaller pieces of 
 bone in the same state of decay ; under both 
 there were three censers of the Indian 
 fashion with storax and other perfumes 
 burning, and a supply of storax near wrapt 
 in dry leaves of maize, and over the larger 
 bone an Indian coronet. These, he was told 
 
 upon inquiry, were the bones of the Horse 
 which the Great Captain had committed to 
 the care of their Cacique long ago. 
 
 If it had been the fate of Nobs thus to be 
 idolified, and the Itzaex had been acquainted 
 with his character, they would have com- 
 pounded a name for him, not from Thunder 
 and Lightning, but from all the good quali- 
 ties which can exist in horse-nature, and for 
 which words could be found in the Maya 
 tongue. 
 
 CHAPTER CXLV. 
 
 WILLIAM OSMER. INNATE QUALITIES. MARCH 
 OF ANIMAL INTELLECT. FARTHER REVEAL- 
 MENT OF THE COLUMBIAN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 There is a word, and it is a great word in this Book *, 
 in T'O KUTO, In id ipsum, that is, to look to the thing 
 itself, the very point, the principal matter of all ; to have 
 our eye on that, and not off it, upon alia omnia, any thing 
 
 but it To go to the point, drive ah 10 that, as also to go 
 
 to the matter real, without declining from it this way or 
 that, to the right hand or to the left. BP. ANDREHES. 
 
 A CERTAIN William Osmer once wrote a 
 dissertation upon the Horse, wherein he 
 affirmeth, it is demonstrated by matters of 
 fact, as well as from the principles of philo- 
 sophy, that innate qualities do not exist, and 
 that the excellence of this animal is alto- 
 gether mechanical and not in the blood. 
 In affirming this of the Horse, the said 
 William Osmer hath gone far toward de- 
 monstrating himself an Ass ; for he might 
 as well have averred that the blood hath 
 nothing to do with the qualities of a black 
 pudding. When Hurdis said 
 
 Give me the steed 
 Whose noble efforts bore the prize away, 
 I care not for his grandsire or his dam, 
 
 it was well said, but not wisely. 
 
 The opinion, which is as old as anything 
 known concerning this animal, that the good 
 qualities of a horse are likely to bear some 
 resemblance to those of its sire or dam, Mr. 
 Osmer endeavoured to invalidate by arguing 
 
 * The New Testament which the Preacher had before 
 him. R. S.
 
 370 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 that his strength and swiftness depend upon 
 the exactness of his make, and that where 
 this was defective, these qualities would be 
 deficient also, a foolish argument, for the 
 proposition rests upon just the same ground 
 as that against which he was reasoning. But 
 what better reasoning could be looked for 
 from a man who affirmed that if horses were 
 not shod they might travel upon the turn- 
 pike road without injury to their feet, be- 
 cause, iu his own language, "when time 
 was young, when the earth was in a state 
 of nature, and turnpike roads as yet were 
 not, the Divine Artist had taken care to 
 give their feet such defence as it pleased 
 him." 
 
 If the Doctor had known that Nobs was 
 of Tartarian extraction, this fact would suf- 
 ficiently have accounted for the excellences 
 of that incomparable roadster. He explained 
 them quite as satisfactorily to himself by 
 the fancy which he amused himself with 
 supporting on this occasion, that this mar- 
 vellous horse was a son of the Wind. And 
 hence he inferred that Nobs possessed the 
 innate qualities of his kind in greater per- 
 fection than any other horse, as approaching 
 near to the original perfection in which the 
 species was created. For although animals 
 are each in their kind less degenerate than 
 man, whom so many circumstances have 
 tended to injure in his physical nature, still, 
 he argued, all which like the horse have been 
 made subservient to the uses of man, were 
 in some degree deteriorated by that sub- 
 jection. Innate qualities, however, he ad- 
 mitted were more apparent in the brute 
 creation than in the human creature, be- 
 cause even in those which suffer most by 
 domestication, the course of nature is not 
 so violently overruled. 
 
 I except the Duck, he would say. That 
 bird, which Nature hath made free of earth, 
 air and water, loses by servitude the use of 
 one element, the enjoyment of two, and the 
 freedom of all three. 
 
 Look at the Pjg also, said the Doctor. 
 In his wild state no animal is cleaner, hap- 
 pier, or better able to make himself re- 
 spected. Look at him when tamed, I 
 
 will not say in a brawn-case, for I am not 
 speaking now of those cruelties which the 
 Devil and Man between them have devised, 
 but look at him prowling at large about 
 the purlieus of his sty. What a loathsome 
 poor despised creature hath man made him ! 
 
 Animal propter convivia natum* 
 
 Every cur thinks itself privileged to take 
 him by the ear; whereas if he were once 
 more free in the woods, the stoutest mastiff 
 or wolf-dog would not dare look him in the 
 face. 
 
 Yet he was fond of maintaining that the 
 lower creation are capable of intellectual 
 improvement. In Holland, indeed, he had 
 seen the school for dogs, where poodles go 
 through a regular course of education, and 
 where by this time perhaps the Lancasterian 
 inventions have been introduced. But this 
 was not what the Doctor contemplated. 
 Making bears and elephants dance, teaching 
 dogs to enact ballets, and horses to exhibit 
 tricks at a fair, he considered as the freaks 
 of man's capricious cruelty, and instances of 
 that abuse of power which he so frequently 
 exercises over his inferior creatures, and for 
 which he must one day render an account, 
 together with all those whose countenance 
 of such spectacles affords the temptation to 
 exhibit them.'!' 
 
 In truth, the power which animals as well 
 as men possess, of conforming themselves 
 to new situations and forming new habits 
 adapted to new circumstances, is proof of a 
 capability of improvement. The wild dogs 
 in the plains of La Plata burrow, because 
 there is no security for them above ground 
 against stronger beasts of prey. In the same 
 country owls make their nests in the ground, 
 because there are neither trees nor buildings 
 to afford them concealment. A clergyman 
 in Iceland by sowing angelica upon a Lake- 
 island some miles from the sea, not only 
 attracted gulls and wild ducks to breed 
 there, but brought about an alliance between 
 those birds, who are not upon neighbourly 
 
 * JUVENAL. 
 t Cf. Jonah, iv. 11.; Prov. xii. 10., with Ps. xxxti. 6.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 371 
 
 terms elsewhere. Both perceived that the 
 new plants afforded better shelter from wind 
 and rain, than anything which they had seen 
 before ; there was room enough for both ; 
 and the neighbourhood produced so much 
 good will, that the gulls protected the 
 weaker birds not only against the ravens who 
 are common enemies, but against another 
 species of gull also which attacks the duck's 
 nest. 
 
 A change more remarkable than either of 
 these is that which the common hearth- 
 cricket has undergone in its very constitu- 
 tion as well as in all its ways of life, since 
 men built houses and inhabited cold cli- 
 mates. 
 
 The field-cricket in North America, which 
 buries itself during the winter ten inches 
 deep, and there lies torpid, began about an 
 hundred years ago to avail itself of the work 
 of man and take up its abode in the chimnies. 
 This insect even likes man for a bed-fellow, 
 not with any such felonious intentions as 
 are put in execution by smaller and viler 
 vermin, but for the sake of warmth. The 
 Swedish traveller, Kalm, says that when he 
 and his companions were forced to sleep in 
 uninhabited places, the crickets got into the 
 folds of their garments, so that they were 
 obliged to make some tarriance every morn- 
 ing, and search carefully before they could 
 get rid of them. 
 
 Two species of Swallows have domesti- 
 cated themselves with man. We have only * 
 that which builds under the eaves in Eng- 
 land, but in North America they have both 
 the house swallow and the chimney swallow ; 
 the chimnies not being made use of in sum- 
 mer, they take possession, and keep it some- 
 times in spite of the smoke, if the fire is not 
 very great. Each feather in this bird's tail 
 ends in a stiff point, like the end of an awl ; 
 they apply the tail to the side of the wall, 
 and it assists in keeping them up, while they 
 
 This looks like a mistake ; we have the chimney 
 swallow also, the Hirundo rustica. It is the Martin, or 
 the Hirundo itrbica, that builds under the eaves. Besides 
 these we have the Hirundo riparia, or Sand-Martin, and 
 the Hirundo Apus, or Swift. I say it looks like a mistake, 
 but what follows makes it doubtful. 
 
 hold on with their feet. " They make a 
 great thundering noise all day long by flying 
 up and down in the chimnies ; " now as the 
 Indians had not so much as a hearth made 
 of masonry, it is an obvious question, says 
 Kalm, where did these swallows build before 
 the Europeans came, and erected houses 
 with chimnies ? Probably, it is supposed, 
 in hollow trees, but certainly where they 
 could ; and it is thus shown that they took 
 the first opportunity of improving their own 
 condition. 
 
 But the Doctor dwelt with most pleasure 
 on the intellectual capabilities of Dogs. 
 There had been Dogs, he said, who, from the 
 mere desire of following their master's ex 
 ample, had regularly frequented either the 
 Church or the Meeting House ; others who 
 attended the Host whenever they heard the 
 bell which announced that it was carried 
 abroad ; one who so modulated his voice as 
 to accompany instrumental music through 
 all the notes of a song ; and Leibnitz had 
 actually succeeded in teaching one to speak. 
 A dog may be made an epicure as well as 
 his master. He acquires notions of rank 
 and respectability ; understands that the 
 aristocracy are his friends, regards the beg- 
 gar as his rival for bones, and knows that 
 whoever approaches in darkness is to be 
 suspected for his intentions. A dog's phy- 
 siognomical discernment never deceives him ; 
 and this the Doctor was fond of observing, 
 because wherever he was known the dogs 
 came to return the greeting they expected. 
 He has a sense of right and wrong as far as 
 he has been taught ; a sense of honour and 
 of duty, from which his master might some- 
 times take a lesson ; and not unfrequently 
 a depth and heroism of affection, which the 
 Doctor verily believed would have its re- 
 ward in a better world. John Wesley held 
 the same opinion, which has been maintained 
 also by his enemy, Augustus Toplady, and 
 by his biographer, the laureated LL. D. or 
 the El-el-deed Laureate. The Materialist, 
 Dr. Dove would argue, must allow, upon 
 his own principles, that a dog has as much 
 soul as himself; and the Immaterialist, if he 
 would be consistent, must perceive that the
 
 372 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 life, and affections, and actions of an animal 
 are as little to be explained as the mysteries 
 of his own nature by mere materiality. The 
 all-doubting, and therefore always half- 
 believing Bayle has said that les actions des 
 betes sont peut-etre un des plus profonds 
 abimes sur quoi notre raison se puisse exercer. 
 
 But here the Doctor acknowledged him- 
 self to be in doubt. That another state of 
 existence there must be for every creature 
 wherein there is the breath of life he was 
 verily persuaded.* To that conclusion the 
 whole tenor of his philosophy led him, and 
 what he entertained as a philosophical opin- 
 ion, acquired from a religious feeling some- 
 thing like the strength of faith. For if the 
 whole of a brute animal's existence ended 
 in this world, then it would follow that 
 there are creatures born into it, for whom it 
 had been better never to have been, than 
 to endure the privations, pains, and wrongs 
 and cruelties, inflicted upon them by human 
 wickedness ; and he would not, could not, 
 dared not believe that any, even the meanest 
 of God's creatures, has been created to 
 undergo more of evil than of good (where 
 no power of choice was given) much less 
 to suffer unmingled evil, during its allotted 
 term of existence. Yet this must be, if 
 there were no state for animals after death. 
 
 A French speculator upon such things (I 
 think it was P. Bougeant) felt this so strongly 
 as to propose the strange hypothesis that 
 fallen Angels underwent their punishment 
 in the bodies of brutes, wherein they were 
 incarnate and incarcerate as sentient, suffer- 
 ing and conscious spirits. The Doctor's 
 theory of progressive life was liable to no 
 such objections. It reconciled all seeming 
 evil in the lower creation to the great system 
 of benevolence. But ^still there remained a 
 difficulty. Men being what they are, there 
 were cases in which it seemed that the ani- 
 mal soul would be degraded instead of ad- 
 vanced by entering into the human form. 
 For example, the Doctor considered the 
 beast to be very often a much worthier animal 
 than the butcher ; the horse than the horse- 
 
 * But ee Eccles. c. iii. v. 21. 
 
 jockey or the rider ; the cock than the 
 cock-fighter ; the young whale than the man 
 who harpoons the reasonable and dutiful 
 creature when it suffers itself to be struck 
 rather than forsake its wounded mother. 
 
 In all these cases indeed, a migration into 
 some better variety of the civilised biped 
 might be presumed, Archeus bringing good 
 predispositions and an aptitude for improve- 
 ment: But when he looked at a good dog 
 (in the best acceptation of the epithet), 
 a dog who has been humanised by human 
 society, who obeys and loves his master, 
 pines during his illness, and dies upon his 
 grave (the fact has frequently occurred), 
 the Doctor declared his belief, and with a 
 voice and look which told that he was speak- 
 ing from his heart, that such a creature 
 was ripe for a better world than this, and 
 that in passing through the condition of 
 humanity it might lose more than it could 
 gain. 
 
 The price of a dog might not, among the 
 Jews, be brought into the House of the Lord, 
 " for any vow," for it was an abomination to 
 the Lord. This inhibition occurs in the 
 same part of the Levitical law which enjoins 
 the Israelites not to deliver up to his master 
 the servant who had escaped from him : and 
 it is in the spirit of that injunction, and 
 of those other parts of the Law which are 
 so beautifully and feelingly humane, that 
 their very tenderness may be received in 
 proof of their divine origin. It looks upon 
 the dog as standing to his master in far other 
 relation than his horse or his ox or his ass, 
 as a creature connected with him by the 
 moral ties of companionship, and fidelity, and 
 friendship.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 373 
 
 CHAPTER CXLVL 
 
 DANIEL DOVE VERSUS SENECA AND BEN 
 JONSON. OHLANDO AND HIS HORSE AT 
 RONCESVALLES. MR. BURCHELL. THE 
 
 PRINCE OF ORANGE. THE LORD KEEPER 
 GUILDFORD. REV. MB. HAWTAYN. DR. 
 THOMAS JACKSON. THE ELDER SCALIGER. 
 EVELYN. AN ANONYMOUS AMERICAN. 
 
 WALTER LANDOR, AND CAROLINE BOWLES. 
 
 Contented with an humble theme 
 I pour my stream of panegyric down 
 The vale of Nature, where it creeps and winds 
 Among her lovely works with a secure 
 And unambitious course, reflecting clear, 
 If not the virtues, yet the worth of brutes. 
 
 COWPBR. 
 
 THE Doctor liked not Seneca when that 
 philosopher deduced as a consequence from 
 his definition of a benefit, that no gratitude 
 can be due to beasts or senseless things : 
 nawz, qui benejicmm mihi daturas est, he 
 says, debet non tantum prodesse, sed velle. 
 Idea nee mutis animalibus quidquam debetur; 
 et quam multos e pericido velocitas equi ra- 
 puit! Nee arboribus; et quam multos cestu 
 laborantes ramorum opacitas texit ! that is, 
 u for he who is about to render me a good 
 service, not only ought to render it, but to 
 intend it. Nothing, therefore, can be owed 
 to dumb animals, and yet how many have 
 the speed of a horse saved from danger ! 
 Nor to trees, and yet how many when suffer- 
 ing under the summer sun, have the thick 
 boughs shaded ! " To the same tenor Ben 
 Jonson speaks. "Nothing is a courtesy," 
 he says, " unless it be meant us, and that 
 friendly and lovingly. We owe no thanks 
 to rivers that they carry our boats ; or winds 
 that they be favouring, and fill our sails ; 
 or meats that they be nourishing ; for these 
 are what they are necessarily. Horses carry 
 us, trees shade us, but they know it not." 
 
 What ! our friend would say, do I owe 
 thee nothing, Nobs, for the many times that 
 thou hast carried me carefully and safely, 
 through bad ways, in stormy weather, and 
 in dark nights ? Do I owe thee nothing for 
 thy painful services, thy unhesitating obe- 
 dience, thy patient fidelity ? Do I owe thee 
 
 nothing for so often breaking thy rest, when 
 thou couldest not know for what urgent 
 cause mine had been broken, nor wherefore 
 I was compelled by duty to put thee to thy 
 speed ? Nobs, Nobs, if I did not acknowledge 
 a debt of gratitude to thee, and discharge it 
 as far as kind usage can tend to prolong 
 thy days in comfort, I should deserve to be 
 dropped as a colt in my next stage of ex- 
 istence, to be broken in by a rough rider, 
 and broken down at last by hard usage in a 
 hackney coach. 
 
 There is not a more touching passage in 
 Italian poetry than that in which Pulci re- 
 lates the death of Orlando's famous horse (his 
 Nobs) in the fatal battle of Roncesvalles : 
 
 Vegliantin come Orlando in terra scese, 
 A pie del suo signor caduto e morto, 
 
 E inginocchiossi e licenzia g/i chiese. 
 Quasi dicesse, in /' ho condotto a porto. 
 
 Orlando presto le braccia distese 
 A C acqiia, e cerca <1i dargli conforto, 
 
 Ma poi che pure il caval non si sente, 
 
 Si condoled molto pietosamente. 
 
 Vegliantin, tu m' hai servito tanto : 
 Vegliantin, dov' e la tua prodezza f 
 
 O Vegliantin, nessun si dia piu vanto ; 
 O Vegliantin, venvta 4 /' ora sezza : 
 
 Vegliantin, tu m' hai cresciuto il pianto } 
 Vegliantin, tu non vuoi piu cavezsa : 
 
 O Vegliantin, s' io tffeci mai torto, 
 
 Perdonami, ti priego, cost morto. 
 
 Dice Turpin, che mi par maraviglia, 
 Che come Orlando perdonami disse, 
 
 Quel caval parve ch' aprisse le ciglia, 
 E col capo e co gesti acconsentisse.* 
 
 A traveller in South Africa, Air. Burchell, 
 who was not less adventurous and perse- 
 vering than considerate and benevolent, says 
 that " nothing but the safety of the whole 
 party, or the urgency of peculiar and in- 
 evitable circumstances, could ever, during 
 his whole journey, induce him to forget the 
 consideratio'n due to his cattle, always re- 
 garded as faithful friends whose assistance 
 was indispensable. There may be in the 
 world," he says, " men who possess a nature 
 so hard, as to think these sentiments mis- 
 applied ; but I leave them to find, if they 
 can, in the coldness of their own hearts, a 
 satisfaction equal to that which I have en- 
 joyed in paying a grateful attention to 
 
 * MORGANTE MAGGIOBB.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 animals by whose services I have been so 
 much benefited." 
 
 The Prince of Orange would once have 
 been surprised and taken in his tent by the 
 Spaniards if his dog had not been more 
 vigilant than his guards. Julian Romero 
 planned and led this night attack upon the 
 Prince's camp ; the camisado was given so 
 suddenly, as well as with such resolution, 
 " that the place of arms took no alarm, until 
 their fellows," says Sir Roger Williams, 
 " were running in with the enemy in their 
 tail ; whereupon this dog, hearing a great 
 noise, fell to scratching and crying, and 
 withal leaped on the Prince's face, awaking 
 him, being asleep, before any of his men." 
 Two of his secretaries were killed hard by 
 the tent, and " albeit the Prince lay in his 
 arms, with a lacquey always holding one of 
 his horses ready bridled, yet at the going 
 out of his tent, with much ado he recovered 
 his horse before the enemy arrived. One 
 of his squires was slain taking horse pre- 
 sently after him, and divers of his servants 
 which could not recover theirs, were forced 
 to escape amongst the guards of foot. Ever 
 after until the Prince's dying day, he kept 
 one of that dog's race, so did many of his 
 friends and followers. The most or all of 
 these dogs were white little hounds, with 
 crooked noses, called camuses." 
 
 The Lord Keeper Guildford " bred all 
 his horses, which came to the husbandry first 
 colts, and from thence, as they were fit, were 
 taken into his equipage ; and as by age or 
 accident they grew unfit for that service, 
 they were returned to the place from whence 
 they came, and there expired." This is one 
 of the best traits which Roger North has re- 
 lated of his brother. 
 
 " A person," says Mr. Hawtayn, who was 
 a good kind-hearted clergyman of the 
 Church of England, " that can be insensible 
 to the fidelity and love which dumb animals 
 often express, must be lower in nature than 
 
 they. 
 
 Grata e ffatura in not ; fin datla cuna 
 Gratitudine i impressa in uman core ; 
 Ma d'un instinto tal questo i Jo stile, 
 Che lo seconda pib, chi e piu gentile.* 
 
 * CARLO MIBIA MAGUI. 
 
 The gentlest natures indeed are the best, 
 and the best will be at the same time the 
 most grateful and the most tender. " Even 
 to behold a flourishing tree, first bereft of 
 bark," says Dr. Jackson, " then of all the 
 naked branches, yet standing, lastly the green 
 trunk cut down and cast full of sap into the 
 fire, would be an unpleasant spectacle to 
 such as delighted in setting, pruning, or 
 nourishing plants." 
 
 The elder Scaliger, as Evelyn tells us, 
 never could convince Erasmus but that trees 
 feel the first stroke of the axe ; and Evelyn 
 himself seems to have thought there was 
 more probability in that opinion than he 
 liked to allow. " The fall of a very aged oak," 
 he says, " giving a crack like thunder, has 
 been often heard at many miles' distance ; 
 nor do I at any time hear the groans with- 
 out some emotion and pity, constrained, as I 
 too often am, to fell them with much reluc- 
 tancy." Mr. Downes, in his Letters from the 
 Continent, says, "There is at this time a 
 forest near Bolsena so highly venerated for 
 its antiquity, that none of the trees are ever 
 cut."| 
 
 One who, we are told, has since been 
 honourably distinguished for metaphysical 
 speculation, says, in a juvenile letter to the 
 late American Bishop Hobart, " I sometimes 
 converse a considerable time with a tree 
 that in my infancy invited me to play under 
 its cool and refreshing shade ; and the old 
 dwelling in which I have spent the greater 
 part of my life, though at present unoccupied 
 and falling into ruin, raises within me such 
 a musing train of ideas, that I know not 
 whether it be pleasing or painful. Now 
 whether it arise from an intimate association 
 of ideas, or from some" qualities in the in- 
 sensible objects themselves to create an 
 affection, I shall not pretend to determine ; 
 but certain it is that the love we bear for 
 objects incapable of making a return, seems 
 always more disinterested, and frequently 
 affords us more lasting happiness than even 
 that which we feel toward rational crea- 
 tures." 
 
 t " Stat vetus, et multus inctedua silva per annos," 
 &c. OVID.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 375 
 
 But never by any author, ancient or 
 modern, in verse or prose, has the feeling 
 which ascribes sentience as well as life to 
 the vegetable world, been more deliciously 
 described than by Walter Landor, when, 
 speaking of sweet scents, he says, 
 
 They bring me tales of youth, and tones of love ; 
 And 'tis and ever was my wish and way 
 To let all flowers live freely and all die, 
 Whene'er their Genius bids their souls depart, 
 Among their kindred in their native place. 
 I never pluck the rose ; the violet's head 
 Hath shaken with my breath upon its bank 
 And not reproach'd me ; the ever sacred cup 
 Of the pure lily hath between my hands 
 Felt safe, unsoil'd, nor lost one grain of gold. 
 
 These verses are indeed worthy of their 
 author, when he is most worthy of himself. 
 And yet Caroline Bowles's sweet lines will 
 lose nothing by being read after them. 
 
 THE DEATH OF THE FLOWERS. 
 
 How happily, how happily the flowers die away ! 
 Oh ! could we but return to earth as easily as they ; 
 Just live a life of sunshine, of innocence and bloom, 
 Then drop without decrepitude or pain into the tomb. 
 
 The gay and glorious creatures ! " they neither toll nor 
 
 spin," 
 
 Yet lo ! what goodly raiment they're all apparelled in ; 
 No tears are on their beauty, but dewy gems more bright 
 Than ever brow of Eastern Queen endiademed with light. 
 
 The young rejoicing creatures ! their pleasures never pall, 
 Nor lose in sweet contentment, because so free to all ; 
 The dew, the shower, the sunshine ; the balmy blessed 
 
 air, 
 Spend nothing of their freshness, though all may freely 
 
 share. 
 
 The happy careless creatures ! of time they take no heed ; 
 Nor weary of his creeping, nor tremble at his speed ; 
 Nor sigh with sick impatience, and wish the light away; 
 Nor when 'tis gone, cry dolefully, " Would God that it 
 were day." 
 
 And when their lives are over, they drop away to rest, 
 Unconscious of the penal doom, on holy Nature's breast ; 
 No pain have they in dying, no shrinking from decay. 
 Oh ! could we but return to earth as easily as they I 
 
 CHAPTER CXLVH. 
 
 OLD TREES. SHIPS. FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. 
 LIFE AND PASSIONS ASCRIBED TO INANI- 
 MATE OBJECTS. FETISH WORSHIP. A LORD 
 CHANCELLOR AND HIS GOOSE. 
 
 Ce quej't'n ay escrit, c'est pour vne curiosite, qui pleura 
 possible a. uucuns : el non possible aux autres. 
 
 BRANTOME. 
 
 " CONSIDER," says Plutarch, in that precious 
 volume of Philemon Holland's translating, 
 
 which was one of the elder Daniel's trea- 
 sures, and which the Doctor valued accord- 
 ingly as a relic, " consider whether our 
 forefathers have not permitted excessive 
 ceremonies and observations in these cases, 
 even for an exercise and studious medita- 
 tion of thankfulness ; as namely, when they 
 reverenced so highly the Oaks bearing acorns 
 as they did. Certes the Athenians had one 
 Fig-tree which they honoured by the name 
 of the holy and sacred Fig- Tree ; and they 
 expressly forbade to cut down the Mulberry- 
 tree. For these ceremonies, I assure you, 
 do not make men inclined to superstition as 
 some think, but frame and train us to grati- 
 tude and sociable humanity one toward 
 another, whenas we are thus reverently 
 affected to such things as these that have no 
 soul nor sense." But Plutarch knew that 
 there were certain Trees to which something 
 more than sense or soul was attributed by 
 his countrymen. 
 
 There was a tradition at Corinth which 
 gave a different account of the death of Pen- 
 theus from that in the Metamorphoses, 
 where it is said that he was beholding the 
 rites of the Bacchanals, from an open emi- 
 nence surrounded by the woods, when his 
 mother espied him, and in her madness led 
 on the frantic women by whom he was torn 
 to pieces. But the tradition at Corinth was 
 that he climbed a tree for the purpose of 
 seeing their mysteries, and was discovered 
 amid its branches ; and that the Pythian 
 Oracle afterwards enjoined the Corinthians 
 to find out this Tree, and pay divine honours 
 to it, as to a God. The special motive here 
 was to impress the people with an awful re- 
 spect for the Mysteries, none being felt for 
 any part of the popular religion. 
 
 Old Trees, without the aid of an Oracle to 
 consecrate them, seem to have been some of 
 the most natural objects of that contempla- 
 tive and melancholy regard which easily 
 passes into superstitious veneration. No 
 longer ago than during the peace of Amiens 
 a Frenchman * describing the woods on the 
 banks of the Senegal, says, On eprouve
 
 376 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 un doux ravissement en contemplant ces nob/es 
 productions dune nature tranquille, libre el 
 presque vierge ; car Id elle est encore re- 
 spectee, et la vieillesse des beaux arbres y est 
 pour ainsi dire Vobjel dun culte. Mon ame 
 reconnoissante des emotions qu'elle ressentait, 
 remerciait le Createur davoir fait naitre ces 
 magnifiques vegetables sur un sol ou elles 
 avaient pu croitre independantes et paisibles, 
 et conserver ces formes originales et na'ives 
 que Tart suit alterer, mats quil ne saura ja- 
 mais imiter. 
 
 Quelques-uns des sites qiion rencontre eta- 
 lent les attraits et les graces d'une nature vir- 
 ginale ; dans (fautres, on admire ce que Tage, 
 de sa plus grande force, peut avoir de plus 
 imposant et de plus auguste ; et d 'antiques 
 forets, dont les arbres out une grosseur et une 
 elevation qui attestent leur grand age, excitent 
 une admiration melee de respect; et ces prodi- 
 gieux vegetaux encore verts, encore beaux, 
 apres une vie de tant ("te siecles, semblent vou- 
 loir nous apprendre, que dans ces contrees 
 solitaires et fertiles, la nature vit toujours, et 
 ne vieillit jamais. 
 
 There are Tribes among the various races 
 in the Philippines who are persuaded that the 
 souls of their ancestors use old trees as their 
 habitations, and therefore it is deemed a sa- 
 crilege to cut one down. The Lezgis used 
 to erect pillars under the boughs of decayed 
 Oaks to support them as long as possible ; 
 Murlooz is the name which they give to such 
 spurs, or stay-pillars. 
 
 The Rector of Manafon, Mr. Walter 
 Davies, in his View of the Agriculture and 
 Domestic Economy of North Wales, says, 
 " Strangers have oftentimes listened with 
 attention to Gentlemen of the County of 
 Montgomery inquiring anxiously into the 
 conduct and fate of the Windsor Castle, the 
 Impregnable, the Brunswick, and other men 
 of war, in some particular naval engage- 
 ments ; and were led to imagine that they 
 had some near and dear relations holding 
 important commissions on board ; but upon 
 further inquiry, found the ground of this 
 curiosity to be no other than that such ships 
 had been partly built of timber that had 
 grown upon their estates ; as if the inani- 
 
 mate material contained some magic virtue." 
 The good Rector might have perceived in 
 what he censures one indication of that at- 
 tachment to our native soil, on which much 
 of the security of states depends, much of the 
 happiness of individuals, and not a little of 
 their moral and intellectual character. 
 
 But indeed the same cause which renders 
 personification a common figure not only 
 with poets and orators, but in all empas- 
 sioned and even in ordinary speech, leads 
 men frequently both to speak and act as if 
 they ascribed life and consciousness to inani- 
 mate things. 
 
 When the Cid Campeador recovered from 
 the Infantes of Carrion his two swords 
 Colada and Tizona, "his whole frame," says 
 the Chronicler, " rejoiced, and he smiled 
 from his heart. And he laid them upon his 
 lap and said, " Ah my swords, Colada and 
 Tizona, truly may I say of you that you are 
 the best swords in Spain ; and I won you, 
 for I did not get you either by buying or by 
 barter. I gave ye in keeping to the Infantes 
 of Carrion that they might do honour to my 
 daughters with ye. But ye were not for 
 them ! They kept ye hungry, and did not 
 feed ye with flesh as ye were wont to be fed. 
 Well is it for you that ye have escaped 
 that thraldom and are come again to my 
 hands." 
 
 The same strong figure occurs in the Ma- 
 caronea, 
 
 Gaude, Baldus ait, mi brande ! cibaberis ; ecce 
 Carnis et sanguis tibi prtEse ntentur abunde. 
 
 The Greek Captain who purchases a vessel 
 which he is to command himself takes pos- 
 session of it by a ceremony which is called 
 espousing the ship ; on this occasion he sus- 
 pends in it a laurel crown as a symbol of the 
 marriage, and a bag of garlic as a preserva- 
 tive against tempests. In the year 1793, 
 the ship Darius belonging to a Hindoo, or 
 more probably, as may be inferred from the 
 name, a Parsee owner, was run ashore off Ma- 
 lacca by its Commander Captain Laughton, 
 to save it from falling into the hands of a 
 French Privateer. The Captain and his 
 Officers, when they had thus disappointed
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 377 
 
 the enemy, succeeded afterwards, by great 
 exertion and great skill, in getting the vessel 
 off, and brought it safely home to Bombay ; 
 where the grateful owner, thinking the Ship 
 itself was entitled to some signal mark of 
 acknowledgment, treated it with a complete 
 ablution, which was performed not with 
 water, but with sugar and milk. 
 
 Our own sailors sometimes ascribe con- 
 sciousness and sympathy to their ship. It 
 is a common expression with them that 
 "she behaves well;" and they persuade 
 themselves that an English Man of War, by 
 reason of its own good will, sails faster in 
 pursuit of a Frenchman than at any other 
 time. Poor old Captain Atkins was firmly 
 possessed with this belief. On such occasions 
 he would talk to his ship, as an Arabian to 
 his horse, urge and intreat her to exert 
 herself and put forth all her speed, and 
 promise to reward her with a new coat of 
 paint as soon as they should get into harbour. 
 
 "Who," says Fuller, "can without pity 
 or pleasure behold that trusty vessel which 
 carried Sir Francis Drake about the World?" 
 
 So naturally are men led to impute 
 something like vitality to so great a work of 
 human formation, that persons connected 
 with the shipping trade talk of the average 
 life of a ship, which in the present state of 
 our naval affairs is stated to be twenty-two 
 years. 
 
 At one of the Philosophers' Yearly- 
 Meetings it was said that every Engine-man 
 had more or less pride in his engine, just as 
 a sailor had in his ship. We heard then of 
 the duty of an engine, and of how much 
 virtue resides in a given quantity of coals. 
 This is the language of the Mines, so easily 
 does a figurative expression pass into common 
 speech. The duty of an engine has been 
 taken at raising 50 millions of cubic-feet of 
 water one foot in an hour; some say 100 
 millions, some 120; but the highest duty 
 which the reporter had ascertained was 
 90 millions, the lowest 70. And the virtue 
 in a bushel of coals is sufficient to raise 125 
 millions of cubic-feet of water one foot, 
 being from 800 to 1070 at the cost of one 
 farthing. No one will think this hard duty 
 
 for the Engine, but all must allow it to be 
 cheap virtue in the coals. 
 
 This, however, is merely an example of the 
 change which words undergo in the currency 
 of speech as their original stamp is gradually 
 effaced : what was metaphorical becomes 
 trivial ; and this is one of the causes by 
 which our language has been corrupted, 
 more perhaps than any other, recourse being 
 had both in prose and verse to forced and 
 fantastic expressions as substitutes for the 
 freshness and strength that have been lost. 
 Strong feelings and strong fancy are liable 
 to a more serious perversion. 
 
 M. de Custine, writing from Mont Anvert, 
 in the rhapsodical part of his travels, ex- 
 claims, Qu'on ne me parle plus de nature 
 morte ; on sent ici que la Divinite est partout, 
 et que les pierres sont penetrees comme nous- 
 memes cTune puissance creatrice ! Quand on 
 me dit que les rochers sont insensibles, je crois 
 entendre un enfant soutenir que I 'aiguille dune 
 montre ne marche pas, parce qu'il ne la voit 
 pas se mouvoir. 
 
 It is easy to perceive that feelings of this 
 kind may imperceptibly have led to the 
 worship of any remarkable natural objects, 
 such as Trees, Forests, Mountains, Springs, 
 and Rivers, as kindred feelings have led to 
 the adoration of Images and of Relics. 
 Court de Gebelin has even endeavoured to 
 show that Fetish worship was not without 
 some reasonable cause in its origin. The 
 author of a treatise Du Culte des Dieux 
 Fetiches, ou Parallele de Tancienne Religion 
 de TEgypte avec la Religion actuelle de la 
 Nigritie, had asserted that this absurd super- 
 stition originated in fear. But Court de 
 Gebelin asks, " why not from gratitude and 
 admiration as well ? Are not these passions 
 as capable of making Gods as Fear ? Is not 
 experience itself in accord with us here ? 
 Do not all savage nations admit of Two 
 Principles, the one Good, who ought not to 
 be feared, the other Evil, to whom sacrifices 
 must be offered in order to avert the mis- 
 chief in which he delights ? If fear makes 
 them address their homage to the one, it has 
 no part in the feeling which produces it 
 toward the other. Which then of these
 
 378 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 sentiments has led to Fetish worship ? Not 
 fear, considered as the sentiment which 
 moves us to do nothing that might displease 
 a Being whom we regard as our superior, 
 and as the source of our happiness ; for 
 Fetishes cannot be regarded in this light. 
 Will it then be fear considered as the 
 sentiment of our own weakness, filling us 
 with terror, and forcing us to seek the pro- 
 tection of a Being more powerful than our- 
 selves and capable of protecting us ? But 
 how could any such fear have led to the 
 worship of Fetishes ? How could a Savage, 
 seized with terror, ever have believed that 
 an onion, a stone, a flower, water, a tree, a 
 mouse, a cat, &c. could be his protector and 
 secure him against all that he apprehended ? 
 I know that fear does not reason, but it is 
 not to be understood in this sense ; we fre- 
 quently fear something without knowing 
 why ; but when we address ourselves to a 
 Protector we always know why ; it is in the 
 persuasion that he can defend us, a per- 
 suasion which has always a foundation, a 
 basis. But in Fetish worship where is the 
 motive ? What is there to afford confidence 
 against alarm ? Who has said that the 
 Fetish is superior to man ? It is impossible 
 to conceive any one so blockish, so stupid, 
 so terrified as to imagine that inanimate 
 things like these are infinitely above him, 
 much more powerful than himself, in a state 
 to understand his wants, his evils, his fears, 
 his sufferings, and to deliver him from all in 
 acknowledgment of the offering which he 
 makes to them. 
 
 " Moreover, the Fetish is not used till it 
 has been consecrated by the Priest : this 
 proves an opinion in the savage, that the 
 Fetish of itself cannot protect him ; but that 
 he may be made by other influence to do so, 
 and that influence is exercised by the Priest 
 in the act of consecration." Court de Ge- 
 belin argues therefore that this superstition 
 arose from the primary belief in a Supreme 
 Being on whom we are altogether dependent, 
 who was to be honoured by certain cere- 
 monies directed by the Priest, and who was 
 to be propitiated by revering these things 
 whereby it had pleased him to benefit man- 
 
 kind ; and by consecrating some of them as 
 pledges of future benefits to be received 
 from him, and of his presence among his 
 Creatures who serve him and implore his 
 protection. But in process of time it was 
 forgotten that this was only a symbolic 
 allegory of the Divine Presence, and igno- 
 rant nations who could no longer give a 
 reason for their belief, continued the prac- 
 tice from imitation and habit. 
 
 This is ascribing too much to system, too 
 little to superstition and priestcraft. The 
 name Fetish, though used by the Negroes 
 themselves, is known to be a corrupt appli- 
 cation of the Portuguese word for Witch- 
 craft, feitiqo ; the vernacular name is Bossum 
 or Bossifoe. Upon the Gold Coast every 
 nation has its own, every village, every 
 family, and every individual. A great hill, 
 a rock any way remarkable for its size or 
 shape, or a large Tree, is generally the 
 national Fetish. The king's is usually the 
 largest tree in his country. They who 
 choose or change one take the first thing 
 they happen to see, however worthless. A 
 stick, a stone, the bone of a beast, bird or 
 fish, unless the worshipper takes a fancy for 
 something of better appearance, and chooses 
 a horn or the tooth of some large animal. 
 The ceremony of consecration he performs 
 himself, assembling his family, washing the 
 new object of his devotion, and sprinkling 
 them with the water. He has thus a house- 
 hold or personal God in which he has as 
 much faith as the Papist in his relics,' and 
 with as much reason. Barbot says that 
 some of the Europeans on that coast not 
 only encouraged their slaves in this super- 
 stition, but believed in it, and practised it 
 themselves. 
 
 Thus low has man sunk in his fall. The 
 debasement began with the worship of the 
 Heavenly Bodies. When he had once de- 
 parted from that of his Creator, his religious 
 instinct became more and more corrupted, 
 till at length no object was too vile for his 
 adoration ; as in a certain state of disease 
 the appetite turns from wholesome food, 
 and longs for what would at other times be 
 loathsome.
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 
 379 
 
 The Negro Fetishes are just such objects 
 as, according to the French Jesuits, the 
 Devil used to present to the Canadian In- 
 dians, to bring them good luck in fishing, 
 hunting, gaming, and such traffic as they 
 carried on. This may probably mean that 
 they dreamt of such things ; for in dreams 
 many superstitions have originated, and 
 great use has been made of them in Priest- 
 craft. 
 
 The same kind of superstition has ap- 
 peared in different ages and in different 
 parts of the World, among the most civi- 
 lised nations and the rudest savages *, and 
 among the educated as well as the ignorant. 
 The belief in Omens prevails among us still, 
 and will long continue to prevail, notwith- 
 standing national schools, cheap literature 
 and Societies for promoting knowledge. 
 
 A late Lord Chancellor used to travel 
 with a Goose in his carriage, and consult it 
 on all occasions ; whether according to the 
 rules of Roman augury I know not, nor 
 whether he decided causes by it; but the 
 causes might have been as well decided 
 if he did. The Goose was his Fetish. It 
 was not Lord Brougham, Lord Brougham 
 was his own Goose while he held the Seals ; 
 but it was the only Lord Chancellor in our 
 times who resembled him in extraordinary 
 genius, and as extraordinary an unfitness for 
 his office. One of the most distinguished 
 men of the age, who has left a reputation 
 which will be as lasting as it is great, was, 
 when a boy, in constant fear of a very able 
 but unmerciful schoolmaster ; and in the 
 state of mind which that constant fear pro- 
 duced he fixed upon a great Spider for his 
 Fetish, and used every day to pray to it that 
 
 Omens from birds are taken in the island of Borneo 
 with as much faith as they were amongst the Greeks 
 or Romans. The Rajah Brooke says, " the Singt! Dyacks, 
 like the others, attend to the warning of birds of various 
 sorts, some birds being in more repute than others," 
 &c. &c. The Expedition to Borneo of H. M. S. Dido, 
 vol. i. p. 232. 
 
 CHAPTER EXTRAORDINARY. 
 
 PROCEEDINGS AT A BOOK CLUB. THE AU- 
 THOR ACCUSED OF " LESE DELICATESSE," 
 OR WHAT IS CALLED AT COURT " TUM-TI- 
 TEE." HE UTTERS A MYSTERIOUS EX- 
 CLAMATION, AND INDIGNANTLY VINDI- 
 CATES HIMSELF. 
 
 Hem profecto mirabilem, longeque stupendam, rebusqtie 
 veris veriorem describo. HIBRONYMUS RADIOLENSIS. 
 
 A CIRCUMSTANCE has come to my knowledge 
 so remarkable in itself and affecting me so 
 deeply, that on both accounts I feel it neces- 
 sary to publish a Chapter Extraordinary on 
 the occasion. 
 
 There is a certain Book- Club, or Society, 
 (no matter where) in which the Volumes of 
 this Opus have been regularly ordered as 
 they appeared, and regularly perused, to the 
 edification of many Readers, the admiration 
 of more, and the amusement of all. But I 
 am credibly informed that an alarm was 
 excited in that select literary Circle by a 
 Chapter in the fourth volume f, and that the 
 said volume was not allowed to circulate by 
 the Managing Directors or Committee, of 
 the said Book Club, till the said Chapter 
 had been exscinded, that is to say, cut out. 
 Aballiboozo ! 
 
 When a poor wretch fell into the hands 
 of that hellish Tribunal which called itself 
 the Holy Office, the Inquisitors always 
 began by requiring him to tell them what 
 he was accused of; and they persisted in 
 this course of examination time after time, 
 till by promises and threats, long suspense, 
 and solitary confinement, with the occasional 
 aid of the rack, they had extorted from him 
 matter of accusation against himself and as 
 many of his friends, relations and acquaint- 
 ances, as they could induce, or compel, or en- 
 trap him to name. Even under such a judicial 
 process I should never have been able to dis- 
 cover what Chapter in this Opus could have 
 been thought to require an operation, which, 
 having the fear of the expurgatorial scissars 
 before my eyes, I must not venture to men- 
 
 t See supra, p. 339., of this edition.
 
 380 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 tion here, by its appropriate name, though 
 it is a Dictionary word, and the use of it is 
 in this sense strictly technical. My ignor- 
 ance, however, has been enlightened, and I 
 have been made acquainted with what in 
 the simplicity of my heart I never could 
 have surmised. 
 
 The Chapter condemned to that operation, 
 the chapter which has been not bisked, but 
 semiramised, is the Hundred and thirty-sixth 
 Chapter, concerning the Pedigree and Birth 
 of Nobs ; but whether the passage which 
 called forth this severe sentence from the 
 Censors were that in which Moses and Miss 
 Jenny, the Sire and Dam of Nobs, are 
 described as meeting in a field near Knaves- 
 mire Heath, like Dido dux et Trojanus ; or 
 whether it were the part where the con- 
 sequences of that meeting are related as 
 coming unexpectedly to light, in a barn be- 
 tween Doncaster and Adwick-in-the- Street, 
 my informant was not certain. 
 
 From another quarter I have been assured, 
 that the main count in the indictment was 
 upon the story of Le Cheval de Pierre, et 
 les Ojflciers Municipaux. This I am told 
 it was which alarmed the Literary Sen- 
 sitives. The sound of the footsteps of the 
 Marble Statue in Don Juan upon the boards 
 of the stage never produced a more awful 
 sense of astonishment in that part of the 
 audience who were fixed all eyes and ears 
 upon its entrance, than this Cheval de Pierre 
 produced among the Board of Expurgators. 
 After this I ought not to be surprised if the 
 Publishers were to be served with a notice 
 that the Lord Mayors of London and York, 
 and the simple Mayors of every corporate 
 town in England, reformed or unreformed, 
 having a Magistrate so called, whether gentle 
 or simple, had instituted proceedings against 
 them for Scandcdum Magnatum. This, how- 
 ever, I have the satisfaction of knowing, 
 that Miss Graveairs smiled in good humour 
 when she heard the Chapter read ; the only 
 serious look put on was at the quotation 
 from Pindar, as if suspecting there might 
 be something in the Greek which was not 
 perfectly consistent with English notions of 
 propriety. Nothing, however, could be more 
 
 innocent than that Greek. And, even after 
 what has passed, she would agree with me 
 that this Chapter, which made the Elders 
 blush, is one which Susanna would have read 
 as innocently as it was written. 
 
 Nevertheless I say, O tempora I O mores ! 
 uttering the words exultantly, not in expro- 
 bration. I congratulate the age and the 
 British Public. I congratulate my Country- 
 men, my Country-women, and my Country- 
 children. I congratulate Young England 
 upon the March of Modesty ! How delight- 
 ful that it should thus keep pace with the 
 March of Intellect ! Redeunt Saturnia regna. 
 In these days Liberality and Morality ap- 
 pear hand-in-hand upon the stage like the 
 Two Kings of Brentford ; and Piety and 
 Profit have kissed each other at religious 
 Meetings. 
 
 We have already a Family Shakespeare : 
 and it cannot be supposed that the hint will 
 always be disregarded which Mr. Matthew 
 Gregory Lewis introduced so properly some 
 forty years ago into his then celebrated 
 novel called the Monk, for a Family Bible, 
 upon the new plan of removing all passages 
 that could be thought objectionable on the 
 score of indelicacy. We may look to see 
 Mr. Thomas Moore's Poems adapted to the 
 use of Families ; and Mr. Murray cannot 
 do less than provide the Public with a Family 
 Byron. 
 
 It may, therefore, be matter of grave con- 
 sideration for me whether, under all circum- 
 stances, it would not be highly expedient to 
 prepare a semiramised edition of this Opus, 
 under the Title of the Family Doctor. It 
 may be matter for consultation with my 
 Publishers, to whose opinion, as founded 
 on experience and a knowledge of the public 
 taste, an author will generally find it pru- 
 dent to defer. Neither by them or me 
 would it be regarded as an objection that 
 the title might mislead many persons, who, 
 supposing that the " Family Doctor" and the 
 " Family Physician " meant the same kind 
 of Book, would order the Opus, under a 
 mistaken notion that it was a new and con- 
 sequently improved work, similar to Dr. 
 Buchan's, formerly well known as a stock-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 381 
 
 book. This would be no objection I say, 
 but, on the contrary, an advantage to all 
 parties. For a book which directs people 
 how to physic themselves ought to be en- 
 titled Every Man his own Poisoner, because 
 it cannot possibly teach them how to dis- 
 criminate between the resemblant symptoms 
 of different diseases. Twice fortunate, there- 
 fore, would that person have reason to think 
 him or herself, who, under such a misappre- 
 hension of its title, should purchase the 
 Family Doctor ! 
 
 Ludicrous mistakes of this kind have some- 
 times happened. Mr. Haslewood's elaborate 
 and expensive edition of the Mirror for 
 Magistrates was ordered by a gentleman in 
 the Commission of the Peace, not a hundred 
 miles from the Metropolis ; he paid for it 
 the full price, and his unfortunate Worship 
 was fain to take what little he could get for 
 it from his Bookseller under such circum- 
 stances, rather than endure the mortification 
 of seeing it in his book-case.* A lady who 
 had a true taste as well as a great liking for 
 poetry, ordered an Essay on Burns for the 
 Reading Society of which she was a mem- 
 ber. She opened the book expecting to 
 derive much pleasure from a critical disquisi- 
 tion on the genius of one of her favourite 
 Poets ; and behold it proved to be an Essay 
 on Burns and Scalds by a Surgeon ! 
 
 But in this case it would prove an Agree- 
 able Surprise instead of a disappointment ; 
 and if the intention had been to mislead, 
 and thereby entrap the purchaser, the end 
 might be pleaded, according to the con- 
 venient morality of the age, as justifying 
 the means. Lucky indeed were the patient 
 who sending for Morison's Pills should be 
 supplied with Tom D'Urfey's in their stead ; 
 happy man would be his dole who when he 
 had made up his mind in dismal resolution 
 to a dreadful course of drastics, should find 
 that gelastics had been substituted, not of 
 the Sardonian kind, but composed of the 
 most innocent and salutiferous ingredients, 
 
 Whoever purchased Southey's copy will find this 
 anecdote in his own handwriting, on the fly leaf. I tran- 
 scribed it from thence into ray own copy many years ago. 
 
 gently and genially alterative, mild in their 
 operation, and safe and sure in their effects. 
 On that score, therefore, there could be no 
 objection to the publication of a Family 
 Doctor. But believing as I believe, or 
 rather, knowing as I know, that the Book 
 is free from any such offence, 
 
 mal cupiera alii 
 tal aspid en tales floret ; f 
 
 maintaining that it is in this point imma- 
 culate, which I will maintain as confidently 
 because as justly, and as publicly were it 
 needful, (only that my bever must be closed) 
 as Mr. Dymock at the approaching Corona- 
 tion will maintain Queen Victoria's right to 
 the Crown of these Kingdoms (God save the 
 Queen!), it is impossible that I should 
 consent to a measure which must seem like 
 acknowledging the justice of a charge at 
 once ridiculous and wrongful. 
 
 I must not disestcem 
 My rightful cause for being accused, nor must 
 Forsake myself, tho I were left of all. 
 Fear cannot make my innocence unjust 
 Unto itself, to give my Truth the fall.J 
 
 The most axiomatic of English Poets has 
 said 
 
 Do not forsake yourself ; for they that do, 
 Offend and teach the world to leave them too. 
 
 Of the Book itself, (the Opus) I can 
 say truly, as South said of the Sermon which 
 he preached in 1662 before the Lord Mayor 
 and Aldermen of the city of London, " the 
 subject is inoffensive, harmless, and innocent 
 as the state of innocence itself;" and of the 
 particular chapter, that it is " suitable to the 
 immediate design, and to the genius of the 
 book." And in saying this I call to mind 
 the words of Nicolas Perez, el Setabiense; 
 el amor propio es nuestro enemigo mas 
 perjudicial ; es dijicil acabar con el, par lo 
 mismo un sdbio le compara a la camisa, que 
 es el ultimo de los vestidos que nos quitamos. 
 
 Bear witness incorrupta Fides, nudaque 
 Veritas! that I seek not to cover myself 
 with what the Spaniard calls Self-Love's 
 last Shirt ; for I am no more guilty of Lese 
 Modestie than of Lese Majeste. If there were 
 a Court of Delicacy as there has been a 
 
 t LOPK DE VEGA. 
 
 t DANIEL.
 
 382 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Court of Honour, a Court Modest as there 
 is a Court Martial, I would demand a trial, 
 and in my turn arraign my arraigners, 
 
 Porque en este limpio trigo 
 Siembren zizana y eslrago.* 
 
 It is said in the very interesting and 
 affecting Memoir of Mr. Smedley's Life that 
 he had projected with Mr. Murray " a cas- 
 tigated edition of the Faery Queen." He was 
 surprised, says the biographer, " to find how 
 many passages there were in this the most 
 favourite poem of his youth, which a father's 
 acuter vision and more sensitive delicacy 
 discovered to be unfit for the eyes of his 
 daughters." It appears, too, that he had 
 actually performed the task ; but that " Mr. 
 Murray altered his opinion as to the ex- 
 pediency of the publication, and he found to 
 his annoyance that his time had been em- 
 ployed to no purpose." 
 
 Poor Smedley speaks thus of the project 
 in one of his letters. " I am making the 
 Faery Queen a poem which may be admitted 
 into family reading, by certain omissions, by 
 modernising the spelling and by appending, 
 where necessary, brief glossarial foot-notes. 
 I read Spenser so very early and made him 
 so much a part of the furniture of my mind, 
 that until I had my attention drawn to him 
 afresh I had utterly forgotten how much he 
 required the pruning-knife, how utterly 
 impossible it is that he should be read aloud : 
 and I cannot but think that when fitted for 
 general perusal, he will become more at- 
 tractive by a new coat and waistcoat. If 
 we were to print Shakespeare, and Beaumont 
 and Fletcher, or even Milton, literatim from 
 the first editions, the spelling would deter 
 many readers. Strange to say, when Southey 
 was asked some time ago whether he would 
 undertake the task, he said, 'No, I shall print 
 every word of him ! ' And he has done so in 
 a single volume. Can he have daughters ? 
 Or any who, like my Mary, delight in such 
 portions as they are permitted to open ? " 
 
 Did Southey say so ? Why then, well 
 said Southey ! And it is very like him ; for 
 he is not given to speak, as his friends the 
 
 * LOPE DE VEGA. 
 
 Portuguese say, enfarinhadamente which 
 is, being interpreted, mealy-mouthedly. In- 
 deed his moral and intellectual constitution 
 must be much feebler than I suppose it to 
 be, if his daughters are not " permitted to 
 open " any book in his library. He must 
 have been as much astonished to hear that 
 the Faery Queen was unfit for their perusal 
 as he could have been when he saw it 
 gravely asserted by an American Professor, 
 Critic and Doctor of Divinity, that his Life 
 of Wesley was composed in imitation of the 
 Iliad ! 
 
 Scott felt like Southey upon this subject, 
 and declared that he would never deal with 
 Dryden as Saturn dealt with his father 
 Uranus. Upon such publications as the 
 Family Shakespeare he says, "I do not 
 say but that it may be very proper to select 
 correct passages for the use of Boarding- 
 Schools and Colleges, being sensible no 
 improper ideas can be suggested in these 
 seminaries unless they are introduced or 
 smuggled under the beards and ruffs of our 
 old dramatists. But in making an edition 
 of a Man of Genius's Works for libraries and 
 collections, (and such I conceive a complete 
 edition of Dryden to be), I must give my 
 author as I find him, and Avill not tear out 
 the page even to get rid of the blot, little as 
 I like it. Are not the pages of Swift, and 
 even of Pope, larded with indecency and 
 often of the most disgusting kind, and do 
 we not see them upon all shelves, and 
 dressing-tables and in all boudoirs ? Is not 
 Prior the most indecent of tale-tellers, not 
 even excepting La Fontaine ? and how often 
 do we see his works in female hands. In 
 fact, it is not passages of ludicrous indelicacy 
 that corrupt the manners of a people ; it is 
 the sonnets which a prurient genius like 
 Master Little sings virginibus puerisque, 
 it is the sentimental slang, half lewd, half 
 methodistic, that debauches the understand- 
 ing, inflames the sleeping passions, and pre- 
 pares the reader to give way as soon as a 
 tempter appears." 
 
 How could Mr. Smedley have allowed 
 himself to be persuaded that a poem like the 
 Faery Queen which he had made from early
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 383 
 
 youth " a part of the furniture of his own 
 mind," should be more injurious to others 
 than it had proved to himself? It is one of 
 the books which Wesley in the plan which 
 he drew up for those young Methodists who 
 designed to go through a course of acade- 
 mical learning, recommended to students of 
 the second year. Mr. Todd has noticed this 
 in support of his own just estimate of this 
 admirable poet. " If," says he, " our con- 
 ceptions of Spenser's mind may be taken 
 from his poetry, I shall not hesitate to pro- 
 nounce him entitled to our warmest appro- 
 bation and regard for his gentle disposition, 
 for his friendly and grateful conduct, for 
 his humility, for his exquisite tenderness, 
 and above all for his piety and morality. 
 To these amiable points a fastidious reader 
 may perhaps object some petty inadver- 
 tencies ; yet can he never be so ungrateful 
 as to deny the efficacy which Spenser's 
 general character gives to his writings, as 
 to deny that Truth and Virtue are graceful 
 and attractive, when the road to them is 
 pointed out by such a guide. Let it always 
 be remembered that this excellent Poet in- 
 culcates those impressive lessons, by attend- 
 ing to which the gay and the thoughtless 
 may be timely induced to treat with scorn 
 and indignation the allurements of intem- 
 perance and illicit pleasure." 
 
 When Izaak Walton published " Thealma 
 and Clearchus," a pastoral history written 
 long since in smooth and easy verse by John 
 Chalkhill, Esq., he described him in the Title 
 page as " An Acquaintant and Friend of 
 Edmund Spenser." He says of him " that 
 he was in his time a man generally known 
 and as well beloved, for he was humble and 
 obliging in his behaviour, a gentleman, a 
 scholar, very innocent and prudent, and in- 
 deed his whole life was useful, quiet, and 
 virtuous." Yet to have been the friend of 
 Edmund Spenser was considered by the 
 biographer of Hooker and Donne and Bishop 
 Sanderson and George Herbert, as an 
 honourable designation for this good man, a 
 testimonial of his worth to posterity, long 
 after both Chalkhill and Spenser had been 
 called to their reward. 
 
 It was well that Mr. Murray gave up the 
 project of a Family Faery Queen. Mr. 
 Smedley when employed upon such a task 
 ought to have felt that he was drawing upon 
 himself something like Ham's malediction. 
 
 With regard to another part of these pro- 
 jected emendations there is a fatal objection. 
 There is no good reason why the capri- 
 cious spelling of the early editions should 
 be scrupulously and pedantically observed in 
 Shakespeare, Milton, or any author of their 
 respective times; no reason why words 
 which retain the same acceptation, and are 
 still pronounced in the same manner, should 
 not now be spelt according to the received 
 orthography. Spenser is the only author 
 for whom an exception must be made from 
 this obvious rule. Malone was wrong when 
 he asserted that the language of the Faery 
 Queen was that of the age in which Spenser 
 lived ; and Ben Jonson was not right when, 
 saying that Spenser writ no language, he 
 assigned as the cause for this, his " affecting 
 the Ancients." The diction, or rather dialect, 
 which Spenser constructed, was neither like 
 that of his predecessors, nor of his contem- 
 poraries. Camoens also wrote a language of 
 his own, and thereby did for the Portuguese 
 tongue the same service which was rendered 
 to ours by the translators of the Bible. But 
 the Portuguese Poet, who more than any 
 other of his countrymen refined a language 
 which was then in the process of refining, 
 attempted to introduce nothing but what 
 entirely accorded with its character, and 
 with the spirit of that improvement which 
 was gradually taking place : whereas both the 
 innovations and renovations which Spenser 
 introduced were against the grain. Yet 
 such is the magic of his verse, that the Faery 
 Queen if modernised, even though the struc- 
 ture of its stanza (the best which has ever 
 been constructed) were preserved, would 
 lose as much as Homer loses in the best 
 translation. 
 
 Mr. Wordsworth has modernised one of 
 Chaucer's Poems with " no farther deviation 
 from the original than was necessary for the 
 fluent reading and instant understanding of 
 the author, supplying the place of whatever
 
 384 
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 
 he removed as obsolete with as little incon- 
 gruity as possible." This he has done very 
 skilfully. But the same skill could not be 
 exercised upon the Faery Queen with the 
 same success. The peculiarities of language 
 there are systematic ; to modernise the spell- 
 ing, as Mr. Smedley proposed, would in very 
 many cases interfere with the rhyme, and 
 thus dislocate the stanza. The task, there- 
 fore, would have been extremely difficult ; it 
 would have been useless, because no one 
 who is capable of enjoying that delightful 
 Poem ever found any difficulty in under- 
 standing its dialect, and it would have been 
 mischievous, because it would have destroyed 
 the character of the Poem. And this in the 
 expectation of rendering Spenser more 
 attractive by a new coat and waistcoat ! 
 Spenser of whom it has been truly said that 
 more poets have sprung from him than from 
 all other English writers ; Spenser by whom 
 Cowley tells us he was made a Poet; of 
 whom Milton acknowledged to Dryden that 
 he was his original ; and in whom Pope says 
 " there is something that pleases one as 
 strongly in one's old age as it did in one's 
 youth. I read the Faery Queen," he pro- 
 ceeds, "when I was about twelve, with a 
 vast deal of delight, and I think it gave 
 me as much when I read it over about a 
 year or two ago." 
 
 No, a new suit of clothes would not render 
 Spenser more attractive, not even if to a coat 
 and waistcoat of Stultz's fabric, white satin 
 pantaloons were added, such as the hand- 
 somest and best dressed of modern patriots, 
 novelists and poets was known by on the 
 public walk of a fashionable watering-place. 
 
 Save us from the Ultradelicates and the 
 Extrasuperfines ! for if these are to prevail 
 
 What can it avail 
 To drive forth a snail 
 Or to make a sail 
 Of a herring's tail ? 
 To rhyme or to rail, 
 To write or to indite 
 Either for delight 
 Or else for despite ? 
 Or books to compile 
 Of divers manner of style, 
 Vice to revile, 
 And sin to exile, 
 To teach or to preach 
 As reason will reach ? 
 
 So said Skelton three centuries ago, and 
 for myself I say once more what Skelton 
 would have been well pleased to have heard 
 said by any one. 
 
 Aballiboozo ! 
 
 Dear Author, says one of those Readers 
 who deserve to be pleased, and whom, there- 
 fore, there is a pleasure in pleasing, dear 
 Author ! may I not ask wherefore you have 
 twice in this Chapter Extraordinary given 
 us part of your long mysterious word, and 
 only part, instead of setting it before us at 
 full length ? 
 
 Dear Reader! you may; and you may 
 also ask unblamed whether a part of the 
 word is not as good, that is to say, as sig- 
 nificant, as the whole? You shall have a 
 full and satisfactory answer in the next 
 Chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER CXLVIH. 
 
 WHEREIN A SUBSTITUTE FOR OATHS, AND 
 OTHER PASSIONATE INTERJECTIONS IS EX- 
 EMPLIFIED. 
 
 What have we to do with the times ? We cannot cure 
 
 'em : 
 
 Let them go on : when they are swoln with surfeits 
 They'll burst and stink: Then all the world shall smell 
 
 'em. 
 
 BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. 
 
 ONCE more, Reader, I commence with 
 
 Aballiboozobanganorribo ; 
 Do not suppose that I am about to let thee 
 into the mysteries of that great decasyllabon ! 
 Questo e bene uno de' piu profondi segreti ch 1 
 abbia tutto il mondo, e quasi nessuno il sa ; c 
 sia certo che ad altri nol direi giammai* No, 
 Reader ! not if I were before the High 
 Court of Parliament, and the House of 
 Commons should exert all its inquisitorial 
 and tyrannical powers to extort it from 
 me, would I let the secret pass that s'peoe 
 oSovruv within which my little trowel of 
 speech has learned not to be an unruly mem- 
 ber. I would behave as magnanimously as 
 Sir Abraham Bradley King did upon a not- 
 
 * BlBBIfcNA.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 385 
 
 altogether dissimilar occasion. Sir Abraham 
 might have said of his secret as Henry 
 More says of the Epicurean Philosophy, 
 " Truly it is a very venerable secret ; and 
 not to be uttered or communicated but by 
 some old Silenus lying in his obscure grot 
 or cave ; nor that neither but upon due cir- 
 cumstances, and in a right humour, when 
 one may find him with his veins swelled out 
 with wine, and his garland fallen off from 
 his head through his heedless drowsiness. 
 Then if some young Chroinis and Mnasylus, 
 especially assisted by a fair and forward 
 .ZEgle, that by way of a love-frolic will leave 
 the tracts of their fingers in the blood of 
 mulberries on the temples and forehead of 
 this aged Satyr, while he sleeps dog-sleep, 
 and will not seem to see for fear he forfeit 
 the pleasure of his feeling, then I say, if 
 these young lads importune him enough, 
 he will utter it in a higher strain than ever." 
 
 But by no such means can the knowledge 
 of my profounder mystery be attained. I 
 will tell thee, however, good Reader, that the 
 word itself, apart from all considerations of 
 its mystical meaning, serves me for the same 
 purpose to which the old tune of Lillibur- 
 lero was applied by our dear Uncle Toby, 
 our dear Uncle I say, for is he not your 
 Uncle Toby, gentle Reader ? yours as well 
 as mine, if you are worthy to hold him in 
 such relationship ; and so by that relation- 
 ship, you and I are Cousins. 
 
 The Doctor had learned something from 
 his Uncle William, which he used to the 
 same effect, though not in the same way. 
 William Dove in that capacious memory of 
 his, into which everything that he heard was 
 stored, and out of which nothing was lost, 
 had among the fragments of old songs and 
 ballads which he had picked up, sundry 
 burdens or choruses, as unmeaning as those 
 which O'Keefe used to introduce in some of 
 the songs of his farces, always with good 
 farcical effect. Uncle Toby's favourite was 
 one of them ; 
 
 Lilli bnrlero bullen a-!a ; 
 Lero lero, lilli bnrlero, lero lero, billion a-la ; 
 Lero lero, lilli burlero, lero lero, bullen a-la. 
 
 Without knowing that it was designed as 
 
 an insult to the French, he used to say and 
 sing in corrupted form, 
 
 Suum, mun, hey no nonny, 
 Dolphin, my boy, my boy, 
 Sessa, let him trot by. 
 
 Another was that from the ballad in honour 
 of the Earl of Essex, called Queen Eliza- 
 beth's Champion, which Johnson quoted in 
 the Isle of Sky ; and Johnson is not the only 
 omnivorous reader in whose memory it has 
 stuck ; 
 
 Raderer too, tandaro tee 
 Radarer, tandorer, tan do ree. 
 
 And he had treasured up the elder frag- 
 ment, 
 
 Martin Swart and his men. 
 
 Sodledum, sodledum, 
 Martin Swart and bis men, 
 
 Sodledum bell, 
 
 With hey troly loly lo, whip here Jack, 
 Alumbeck, sodledum, syllerum ben, 
 Martin Swart and his merry men. 
 
 He had also this relic of the same age, relat- 
 ing as it seems to some now forgotten hero 
 of the strolling minstrels, 
 
 Rory-bull Joyse, 
 Rumble down, tumble down, hey, go now now. 
 
 Here is another, for he uttered these things 
 " as he had eaten ballads." 
 
 A story strange I will you tell, 
 
 But not so strange as true, 
 Of a woman that danced upon the rope, 
 And so did her husband too : 
 With a dildo, dildo, dildo, 
 With a dildo, dildo, dee. 
 
 And he had one of Irish growth, which he 
 sometimes tacked on to this last for the 
 rhyme's sake 
 
 Callino, callino, 
 
 Callino, castore me, 
 Era e'e, Era ee 
 
 Loo loo, loo loo lee. 
 
 All these were favourites with little Daniel; 
 and so especially for his name's sake, was 
 
 My juggy, my puggy, my honey, my coney, 
 My deary, my love, my dove. 
 
 There was another with which and the 
 Dovean use thereof, it is proper that the 
 reader should now be made acquainted, for 
 it would otherwise require explanation, 
 when he meets with it hereafter. This was 
 the one which, when William Dove trotted 
 little Daniel upon his knee, he used to sing 
 
 cc
 
 386 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 more frequently than any other, because the 
 child, then in the most winning stage of 
 childhood, liked it best of all, and it went to 
 the tune of " God save great George our 
 King," as happily as if that noble tune had 
 been composed for it. The words were, 
 
 Fa la la lerridan, 
 Dan dan dan derridan, 
 Dan dan dan derridan, 
 Derridan dee. 
 
 To what old ditty they formed the burden I 
 know not, nor whether it may be (as I sus- 
 pect) a different reading of " Down, down, 
 down derry down," which the most learned 
 of living Welshmen supposes to be a Druidi- 
 cal fragment : but the frequent repetition of 
 his own abbreviated name seldom failed to 
 excite in the child one of those hearty and 
 happy laughs which are never enjoyed after 
 that blessed age has past. Most of us have 
 frequently laughed till our sides ached, and 
 many not unfrequently it may be feared 
 laugh till their hearts ache. But the pure, 
 fresh, unalloyed innocent laughter of chil- 
 dren, in those moods when they 
 
 _ seem like birds, created to be glad,* 
 
 that laughter belongs to them and to them 
 only. We see it and understand it in them ; 
 but nothing can excite more than a faint re- 
 semblance of it in ourselves. 
 
 The Doctor made use of this burden when 
 anything was told him which excited his 
 wonder, or his incredulity ; and the degree 
 in which either was called forth might be 
 accurately determined by his manner of 
 usin^ it. He expressed mirthful surprise, 
 or contemptuous disbelief by the first line, 
 and the tune proceeded in proportion as the 
 surprise was greater, or the matter of more 
 moment. But when anything greatly asto- 
 nished him, he went through the whole, and 
 gave it in a base voice when his meaning was 
 to be most emphatic. 
 
 In imitation, no doubt, of my venerable 
 friend in this his practice, though perhaps at 
 first half unconscious of the imitation, I have 
 been accustomed to use the great decasylla- 
 bon, with which this present Chapter com- 
 
 * GONDIBERT. 
 
 mences, and with which it is to end. In my 
 use of it, however, I observe this caution, 
 that I do not suffer myself to be carried away 
 by an undue partiality, so as to employ it in 
 disregard of ejaculatory propriety or to the 
 exclusion of exclamations which the occasion 
 may render more fitting. Thus if I were to 
 meet with Hercules, Mehercule would doubt- 
 less be the interjection which I should pre- 
 fer ; and when I saw the Siamese Twins, I 
 could not but exclaim, O Gemini!^ 
 
 Further, good Reader, if thou wouldest 
 profit by these benevolent disclosures of 
 Danielism and Dovery, take notice I say, 
 and not only take notice, but take good 
 notice, N. B. there was this difference 
 between the Doctor's use of his burden, and 
 mine of the decasyllabon, that the one was 
 sung, and the other said, and that they are 
 not " appointed to be said or sung," but that 
 the one being designed for singing must be 
 sung, and the other not having been adapted 
 to music must be said. And if any great 
 Composer should attempt to set the Deca- 
 syllabon, let him bear in mind that it should 
 be set in the hypodorian key, the proslani- 
 banomenos of which mode is, in the judge- 
 ment of the Antients, the most grave sound 
 that the human voice can utter, and that the 
 hearing can distinctly form a judgement of. 
 
 Some such device may be recommended 
 to those who have contracted the evil habit 
 of using oaths as interjectional safety-valves 
 or convenient expletives of speech. The 
 manner may be exemplified in reference to 
 certain recent events of public notoriety. 
 
 We see which way the stream of time doth run, 
 And are enforced from our most quiet sphere 
 By the rough torrent of occasion, j 
 
 Upon hearing one morning that in the 
 Debate of the preceding night Mr. Brougham 
 had said no change of administration could 
 possibly affect him, I only exclaimed A \ A 
 short-hand writer would have mistaken it for 
 the common interjection, and have written 
 it accordingly Ah ! But it was the first 
 syllable of my inscrutable word, and signified 
 mere notation without wonder or belief. 
 
 t This last paragraph was inserted by Mr. H. Tayler. 
 J SHAKESPEABE.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 387 
 
 When in the course of the same day 
 there came authentic intelligence that Mr. 
 Brougham was to be the Lord Chancellor of 
 the New Administration, so little surprise 
 was excited by the news, that I only added 
 another syllable and exclaimed Abal! 
 
 Reading in the morning papers that Sir 
 James Graham was to be first Lord of the 
 Admiralty, and Lord Althorp to lead the 
 House of Commons, the exclamation pro- 
 ceeded one step farther, and became Aballi ! 
 
 This was uttered in a tone that implied 
 disbelief ; for verily I gave Cabinet Makers 
 credit for a grain of sense more than they 
 possessed, (a grain mark you, because they 
 had nothing to do with sbruples ;) I sup- 
 posed there was a mistake as to the persons, 
 that Sir James Graham, whose chief 
 knowledge was supposed to lie in finance, 
 and his best qualification in his tongue, was 
 to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and that 
 Lord Althorp, who had no other claim to 
 consideration whatever than as being Earl 
 Spencer's eldest son, (except that as Hodge 
 said of Diccon the Bedlam, he is " even as 
 good a fellow as ever kissed a cow,") was in- 
 tended for the Admiralty, where Spencer is 
 a popular name. But when it proved that 
 there was no mistake in the Newspapers, 
 and that each of these ministers had been 
 deliberately appointed to the office for which 
 the other was fit, then I said Aballiboo ! 
 
 The accession of Mr. Charles Grant and 
 his brother to such an Administration 
 brought me to Aballiboozo! with a shake of 
 the head and in a mournful tone; for I 
 could not but think how such a falling off 
 would astonish the Soul of Canning, if in the 
 intermediate state there be any knowledge 
 of the events which are passing on earth. 
 
 When the Ministry blundered into their 
 Budget, I exclaimed Aballiboozobang ! with 
 a strong emphasis upon the final syllable, and 
 when they backed out of it, I came to Aballi- 
 boozobanga ! 
 
 The Reform Bill upon a first glance at its 
 contents called forth Aballiboozobanganor 
 I would have hurried on two steps farther, 
 to the end of the decasyllabon, if I had not 
 prudently checked myself and stopped there, 
 
 foreseeing that new cause for astonish- 
 ment must now arise daily. 
 
 When Sir Robert Peel did not upon the 
 first reading kick out this mass of crudities, 
 and throw out the Cabinet after it, neck and 
 shoulders, hip and thigh, I said in bitterness 
 Aballiboozobanganorri ! 
 
 And when that Cabinet waxing insolent 
 because they had raised the mob to back 
 them, declared that they would have the 
 Bill, the whole Bill, and nothing but the 
 Bill, then I expressed my contempt, amaze- 
 ment, and indignation, by uttering in its 
 omnisignificant totality the great word 
 
 ABAULIBOOZOBANGANORHIBO. 
 
 CHAPTER CXLIX. 
 
 A PARLOUS QUESTION ARISING OUT OF THE 
 FOREGOING CHAPTER. MR. IRVING AND 
 THE UNKNOWN TONGUES. TAYLOR THE 
 WATER POET. POSSIBLE SCHEME OF IN- 
 TERPRETATION PROPOSED. OPINIONS CON- 
 CERNING THE GIFT OF TONGUES AS EXHI- 
 BITED IN MADMEN. 
 
 Speak what terrible language you will, though you 
 understand it not yourselves, no matter! Chough's lan- 
 guage, gabble enough and good enough. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 BUT here, gentle reader, occurs what Bishop 
 Latimer would call a parlous question, if he 
 had lived in these portentous times. There 
 is no apparent meaning in Lilli burlero 
 bullen a-la, nor in Raderer too, tandaro tee, 
 nor in Dan dan dan derridan, any more than 
 there is in Farra diddle dyno, Hayley 
 gayly gamborayly, higgledypiggledy, gallop- 
 ing draggle-tail dreary dun, and other 
 burthens of a similar kind, which are to be 
 found in the dramas of poor old blind 
 O'Keeffe, and in Tom D'Urfey's songs. 
 There is I say no apparent meaning in them ; 
 but we must not too confidently apply the 
 legal maxim in this case, and conclude that 
 de non apparente et non existente eadem est 
 ratio; for although these choruses are not 
 in any known tongue, they may by possibi- 
 lity be in an unknown one : and if Mr. Irving
 
 388 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Las not a cast in his intellect as well as in 
 his eye, there is a mystery in an unknown 
 tongue ; and they who speak it, and conse- 
 quently they who write it, may be inspired 
 for the nonce though they may be as little 
 conscious of their inspiration as they are of 
 their meaning. There may be an unknown 
 inspiration as well as an unknown tongue. 
 If so what mighty revelations may lie un- 
 revealed in the gibberish of Taylor the 
 Water Poet ! Now if Mr. Irving would but 
 read one of the wine-drinking Water Poet's 
 effusions of this kind, in his chapel, on a day 
 appointed for that purpose, some of his in- 
 spired speakers male or female might per- 
 adventure be moved to expound it in their 
 kindred language ; and as two negatives 
 make an affirmative, it might be found that 
 two unintelligibles make a meaning, and the 
 whole affair would thus become intelligible 
 to every one. 
 
 Two specimens therefore of the Taylorian 
 tongues I shall here set before the public, in 
 the hope that this important experiment 
 may be tried with them. They were both 
 intended as epitaphs for Thomas Coriat the 
 famous Odcombian traveller ; the first was 
 supposed by the inspired Water Poet to be 
 in the Bermuda tongue. 
 
 Hough gruntough wough Thomough Coriatough, Ad- 
 cough robunquogh 
 
 Warawogh bogh Comitogh sogh wogh termonatogrogh, 
 
 Callimogh gogh whobogh Ragamogh demagorgogh pale- 
 in ogh, 
 
 Lomerogh nogh Tottertogh illemortogh eagh Allaquem- 
 quogh 
 
 Toracorninogh Jagogh Jamerogh mogh Carnogh pelep- 
 sogh, 
 
 Animogh trogh deradrogh maramogh hogh Flondrogh 
 calepsogh. 
 
 This, Taylor says, must be pronounced 
 with the accent of the grunting of a hog. 
 He gives no directions for pronouncing the 
 second specimen, which is in the Utopian 
 tongue. 
 
 Nortumblum callimumquash omystolitonquashteburashte 
 Scribuke woshtay solusbay perambulatushte ; 
 Grekay sous Turkay Paphay zums Jerusalushte. 
 Neptus esht Ealors Interrimoy diz dolorushte, 
 Confabuloy Odcumbay Prozeugtnolliton tymorumynoy, 
 Otmilus oratushte paralescus tolliton umbroy. 
 
 The Water Poet gave notice as Professor 
 of these tongues that he was willing to in- 
 
 struct any gentlemen or others who might be 
 desirous of learning them. 
 
 But with regard to a gift of tongues, either 
 known or unknown, there are more things 
 than are dreamed of in the Irvingite philoso- 
 phy or in the Lerry-cum-twang school. It 
 was a received opinion in the seventeenth 
 century that maniacs, and other persons 
 afflicted with morbid melancholy, spoke in 
 strange languages, and foretold things that 
 were to come, by virtue, that is to say, 
 in consequence of their mental malady. But 
 some philosophers who in the march of in- 
 tellect were in advance of their age, denied 
 the fact, and accounted for the persuasion by 
 supposing that such patients, when in a state 
 of great agitation, uttered unmeaning words 
 or sounds which ignorant people took to be 
 Greek, Latin or Hebrew, merely because 
 they could not understand them. Two ques- 
 tions therefore arose ; whether the received 
 opinion were true ? and if it were true, how 
 was the fact to be accounted for ? 
 
 The first of these questions was easily dis- 
 posed of by Sennertus, one of the most 
 eminent Professors and practitioners of the 
 medical science in that age. Facts he said, 
 which were attested by trustworthy authors, 
 were not to be disputed. Many were the 
 impudent falsehoods which this great, and in 
 other respects wise man, received implicitly 
 as facts conformably to the maxim which he 
 thus laid down ; and many were the perilous 
 consequences which he deduced in good 
 faith, and on fair reasoning from such pre- 
 mises. Upon this occasion he instanced the 
 case of a countryman, who at certain periods 
 of the moon used to compose Latin verses, 
 though he knew not a word of Latin at any 
 other time. And of a man who spoke lan- 
 guages which he had never learned, and be- 
 came unable to speak any one of them as 
 soon as he was restored to health by the 
 effect of some powerful worm-medicines. 
 And of a sailor's son, who being wounded in 
 the head and becoming delirious in conse- 
 quence, made perfect S) llogisms in German, 
 but as soon as his wound was healed, lost 
 all the logic which had been beaten into his 
 head in so extraordinary a way.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 389 
 
 Aiitonius Guainerius, who vouched for one 
 of these cases as having witnessed the fact 
 and all its circumstances, accounted for it by 
 a brave hypothesis. The soul, he said, be- 
 fore its infusion into the body, possesses a 
 knowledge of all things, and that knowledge 
 is, in a certain manner, obliterated, or offus- 
 cated by its union with the body ; but it is 
 restored either by the ordinary means of in- 
 struction or by the influence of the star 
 which presided at the time of its union. The 
 body and the bodily senses resist this in- 
 fluence, but when these are as it were bound, 
 or suspended, quod Jiat in melancholia, the 
 stars can then impart their influences to the 
 soul without obstruction, and the soul may 
 thus be endowed with the power of effecting 
 what the stars themselves effect, and thus 
 an illiterate person may become learned, 
 and may also predict events that are to come. 
 Sennertus is far from assenting to this theory. 
 He says, Magna petita sunt quce prcesup- 
 ponit et sibi concedi postulat Guainerius. 
 
 A theory quite as extraordinary was ad- 
 vanced by Juan Huarte, in his Examen de 
 Ingenios, a book which obtained at one time 
 far more reputation than it deserved. Take 
 the passage, curious Reader, from the Eng- 
 lish version, entitled, " The Examination of 
 Men's Wits," in which by discovering the 
 variety of natures is shewed for what pro- 
 fession each one is apt, and how far he shall 
 profit therein. Translated out of the Spanish 
 tongue by M. Camillo Camilli. Englished 
 out of his Italian by R. C.*, Esquire, 1594. 
 " The frantic person's speaking of Latin, 
 without that he ever learned the same in his 
 health-time, shews the consonance which the 
 Latin tongue holds with the reasonable soul ; 
 and (as we will prove hereafter) there is to 
 be found a particular wit applicable to the 
 invention of languages, and Latin words ; 
 and the phrases of speech in that tongue are 
 so fitting with the ear, that the reasonable 
 soul, possessing the necessary temperature 
 for the invention of some delicate language, 
 suddenly encounters with this. And that 
 
 i. e. Richard Carew. See Life of Camden prefixed 
 to the Britannia, note p. xv. 
 
 two devisers of languages may shape the like 
 words, (having the like wit and hability) it 
 is very manifest ; pre-supposing, that when 
 God created Adam, and set all things before 
 him, to the end he might bestow on each its 
 several name whereby it should be called, 
 he had likewise at that instant molded an- 
 other man with the same perfection and 
 supernatural grace ; now I demand if God 
 had placed the same things before this other 
 man, that he might also set them names 
 whereby they should be called, of what 
 manner those names should have been ? For 
 mine own part I make no- doubt but he 
 would have given these things those very 
 names which Adam did : and the reason is 
 very apparent, for both carried one self- 
 same eye to the nature of each thing, which 
 of itself was no more but one. After this 
 manner might the frantic person light upon 
 the Latin tongue ; and speak the same with- 
 out ever having learned it in his health ; for 
 the natural temperature of his brain con- 
 ceiving alteration through the infirmity, it 
 might for a space become like his who first 
 invented the Latin tongue, and feign the 
 like words, but yet not with that concert 
 and continued fineness, for this would give 
 token that the Devil moved that tongue, as 
 the Church teacheth her Exorcists." 
 
 This theory found as little favour with 
 Sennertus as that of Guainerius, because he 
 says, Huarte assumes more than can be 
 granted ; and moreover because he supposes 
 that the Latin language has a peculiar con- 
 sonance with the rational soul, and that 
 there are certain natures which are pe- 
 culiarly constituted for inventing languages. 
 And therefore if by disease that tempera- 
 ment be excited in the brain which is neces- 
 sary for the invention of any most elegant 
 language the patient would fall into the 
 Latin tongue ; and Latin words would occur 
 to him, without any deliberation, or act of 
 will on his part. This opinion Sennertus 
 argued cannot be maintained as probable, 
 being indeed disproved by the very cases 
 upon which the question had been raised, for 
 Greek and Hebrew had been spoken by some 
 of the patients, as well as Latin. The facts
 
 390 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 he admits as not to be doubted, because they 
 are related by veracious authors ; and his 
 way of accounting for them is by the agency 
 of evil spirits, who take advantage of bodily 
 diseases and act upon them, especially such 
 as arise from melancholy ; for that humour 
 or passion has such attractions for evil spirits 
 that it has been called Balneum Diaboli, the 
 Devil's Bath. When therefore a patient 
 speaks in tongues which he has never learned, 
 eo ipso Daemon se manifeste prodit. 
 
 This opinion, than which one of greater 
 weight could not have been produced in the 
 seventeenth century, is recommended to the 
 serious consideration of the Irvingites 
 
 The Doctor would have sung Fa-la-la- 
 lerridan to all this reasoning, and I say 
 Aballiboo ! 
 
 CHAPTER CL. 
 
 THE WEDDING PEAL AT ST. GEORGfi'8. AND 
 THE BRIDE'S APPEABANCE AT CHUKCH. 
 
 See how I have strayed ! and you'll not wonder when you 
 reflect on the whence and the whither. 
 
 ALEXANDER KNOX. 
 
 WELL dear Reader, I have answered your 
 question concerning the great Decasyllabon. 
 I have answered it fairly and 
 explicitly, not like those Je- n-tt tf 
 
 suitical casuists 
 
 parenthesis in the most important part of the 
 Doctor's life, tell thee that the Interim is 
 past, that in the month of April, 1761, he 
 brought home his bride, and the bells of St. 
 George rang that peal, that memorable 
 peal which was anticipatively mentioned in 
 the 32d chapter. Many such peals have they 
 rung since on similar occasions, but they have 
 rung their last from St. George's Tower, for 
 in 1836 it was thought necessary to remove 
 them, lest they should bring that fine old 
 fabric down. 
 
 Webster libelled the most exhilarating and 
 the most affecting of all measured sounds 
 when he said, 
 
 those flattering bells have all 
 One sound at weddings and at funerals. 
 
 Es cierta experiencia que la musica crece la 
 pena donde la halla, y acrecieuta el plazer en 
 el corazon contento ; this is more true of bell 
 ringing than of any other music ; but so far 
 are church bells from having one sound on 
 all occasions, that they carry a different im- 
 port on the same to different ears and diffe- 
 rent minds. The bells of St. George's told 
 a different tale to Daniel Dove, and to 
 Deborah, on their wedding day. To her, 
 they said, as in articulate words, varying, but 
 melancholy alike in import as in cadence, 
 
 That palter with us in a double sense, 
 That keep the word of promise to our ear 
 And break it to our hope. 
 
 You have received an answer as full and 
 satisfactory as you could expect or desire, 
 and yet the more than cabalistic mysteries 
 of the word are still concealed with Eleu- 
 sinian secresy. Enough of this. For the 
 present also we will drop the subject which 
 was broken off by the extraordinary circum- 
 stances that called forth our Chapter Ex- 
 traordinary, 
 
 T il Kill rlTiteTU-'lito IffTOU' * 
 
 for awhile, however, it will be convenient to 
 leave it unfinished, and putting an end to the 
 
 * HOMKR. 
 
 
 Deborah Bacon hath changed her name ; 
 Deborah Bacon hath left her home ; 
 Deborah Bacon is now no more. 
 
 Yet she had made what in every one's 
 opinion was considered a good match, and 
 indeed was far better than what is commonly 
 called good ; it promised in all human likeli- 
 hood to be a happy one, and such it proved. 
 In the beautiful words of Mrs. Hutchinson, 
 neither she nor her husband, " ever had 
 occasion to number their marriage among 
 their infelicities." 
 
 Many eyes were turned on the Doctor's 
 bride, when she made her appearance at St.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 391 
 
 George's Church. The novelty of the place 
 made her less regardful of this than she 
 might otherwise have been. Hollis Pigot, 
 who held the vicarage of Doncaster thirty 
 years, and was then in the last year of his 
 incumbency and his life, performed the ser- 
 vice that day. I know not among what 
 description of preachers he was to be classed ; 
 whether with those who obtain attention, 
 and command respect, and win confidence, 
 and strengthen belief, and inspire hope, or 
 with the far more numerous race of Spin- 
 texts and of Martexts. But if he had 
 preached that morning with the tongue of an 
 angel, the bride would have had no ears for 
 him. Her thoughts were neither upon those 
 who on their way from church would talk 
 over her instead of the sermon, nor of the 
 service, nor of her husband, nor of herself in 
 her new character, but of her father, and 
 with a feeling which might almost be called 
 funereal, that she had passed from under his 
 pastoral as well as his paternal care. 
 
 CHAPTER CLI. 
 
 SOMETHING SERIOUS. 
 
 If thou hast read all this Book, and art never the better, 
 yet catch this flower before thou go out of the garden, 
 and peradventure the scent thereof will bring thee back 
 to smell the rest. HENRY SMITH. 
 
 DEBORAH found no one in Doncaster to sup- 
 ply the place of Betty Allison in the daily 
 intercourse of familiar and perfect friend- 
 ship. That indeed was impossible ; no after- 
 math has the fragrance and the sweetness 
 of the first crop. But why do I call her 
 Deborah ? She had never been known by 
 that name to her new neighbours ; and to 
 her very Father she was now spoken of as 
 Mrs. Dove. Even the Allisons called her so 
 in courteous and customary usage, but not 
 without a melancholy reflection that when 
 Deborah Bacon became Mrs. Dove, she was 
 in a great measure lost to them. 
 
 Friendship, although it cease not 
 In marriage, is yet at less command 
 Than when a single freedom can dispose it.* 
 
 FORD. 
 
 Doncaster has less of the Rus in Urbe 
 now than it had in those days, and than Bath 
 had when those words were placed over the 
 door of a Lodging House, on the North 
 Parade. And the house to which the Doctor 
 brought home his bride had less of it than 
 when Peter Hopkins set up the gilt pestle 
 and mortar there as the cognizance of his 
 vocation. It had no longer that air of quiet 
 respectability which belongs to such a dwell- 
 ing in the best street of a small country 
 town. The Mansion House by which it was 
 dwarfed and inconvenienced in many ways 
 occasioned a stir and bustle about it, unlike 
 the cheerful business of a market day. The 
 back windows, however, still looked to the 
 fields, and there was still a garden. But 
 neither fields nor garden could prevail over 
 the odour of the shop, in which, like 
 
 Hot, cold, moist and dry, four champions fierce, 
 
 in Milton's Chaos, rhubarb and peppermint, 
 and valerian, and assafetida, " strove for 
 mastery," and to battle brought their atoms. 
 Happy was the day when peppermint pre- 
 dominated ; though it always reminded Mrs. 
 Dove of Thaxted Grange, and the delight 
 with which she used to assist Miss Allison in 
 her distillations. There is an Arabian proverb 
 which says, " The remembrance of youth is a 
 sigh." Southey has taken it for the text of 
 one of those juvenile poems in which he 
 dwells with thoughtful forefeeling upon the 
 condition of declining life. 
 
 Miss Allison had been to her, not indeed 
 as a mother, but as what a step-mother is, 
 who is led by natural benevolence and a re- 
 ligious sense of duty, to perform as far as 
 possible a mother's part to her husband's 
 children. There are more such step-mothers 
 than the world is willing to believe, and they 
 have their reward here as well as hereafter. 
 It was impossible that any new friend could 
 fill up her place in Mrs. Dove's affections, 
 impossible that she could ever feel for an- 
 other woman the respect, and reverence, and 
 gratitude, which blended with her love for 
 this excellent person. Though she was bom 
 within four miles of Doncaster, and had lived 
 till her marriage in the humble vicarage in
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 which she was born, she had never passed 
 four-and-twenty hours in that town before 
 she went to reside there ; nor had she the 
 slightest acquaintance with any of its inha- 
 bitants, except the few shopkeepers with 
 whom her little dealings had lain, and the 
 occasional visitants whom she had met at the 
 Grange. 
 
 An Irish officer in the army, happening to 
 be passenger in an armed vessel during the 
 last war, used frequently to wish that they 
 might fall in with an enemy's ship, because 
 he said, he had been in many land battles, 
 and there was nothing in the world which he 
 desired more than to see what sort of a thing 
 a sea fight was. He had his wish, and when 
 after a smart action, in which he bore his 
 part bravely, an enemy of superior force had 
 been beaten off, he declared with the custo- 
 mary emphasis of an Hibernian adjuration, 
 that a sea-fight was a mighty sairious sort of 
 thing. 
 
 The Doctor and Deborah, as soon as they 
 were betrothed, had come to just the same 
 conclusion upon a very different subject. 
 Till the day of their engagement, nay till the 
 hour of proposal on his part, and the very 
 instant of acceptance on hers, each had looked 
 upon marriage, when the thought of it oc- 
 curred, as a distant possibility, more or less 
 desirable, according to the circumstances 
 which introduced the thought, and the mood 
 in which it was entertained. And when it 
 was spoken of sportively, as might happen, 
 in relation to either the one or the other, it 
 was lightly treated as a subject in which they 
 had no concern. But from the time of their 
 engagement, it seemed to both the most 
 serious event of their lives. 
 
 In the Dutch village of Broek, concerning 
 which, singular as the habits of the inhabi- 
 tants are, travellers have related more pecu- 
 liarities than ever prevailed there, one 
 remarkable custom shows with how serious a 
 mind some of the Hollanders regard mar- 
 riage. The great house door is never opened 
 but when the Master of tne House brings 
 home his Bride from the altar, and when 
 Husband and Wife are borne out to the 
 grave. Dr. Dove had seen that village of 
 
 great Baby-houses, but though much at- 
 tached to Holland, and to the Dutch as a 
 people, and disposed to think that we might 
 learn many useful lessons from our prudent 
 and thrifty neighbours, he thought this to be 
 as preposterous, if not as shocking a custom, 
 as it would be to have the bell toll at a mar- 
 riage, and to wear a winding sheet for a 
 wedding garment. 
 
 We look with wonder at the transforma- 
 tions that take place in insects, and yet their 
 physical metamorphoses are not greater than 
 the changes which we ourselves undergo 
 morally and intellectually, both in our rela- 
 tions to others and in our individual nature. 
 Chaque individu, considers separement, dif- 
 fers encore de lui meme par Feffet du terns; 
 il devient un autre, en quelque maniere, aux 
 diver ses epoques de sa vie. II enfant, I'homme 
 fait, le vieillard, sont comme autant d'etrangers 
 unis dans une seule personne par le lien myste- 
 rieux du souvenir. * Of all changes in life, 
 marriage is certainly the greatest, and though 
 less change in every respect can very rarely 
 be produced by it in any persons than in 
 the Doctor and his wife, it was very great to 
 both. On his part it was altogether an in- 
 crease of happiness ; or rather from having 
 been contented in his station he became 
 happy in it, so happy as to be experimentally 
 convinced that there can be no " single 
 blessedness" for man. There were some 
 drawbacks on her part, in the removal 
 from a quiet vicarage to a busy street ; in 
 the obstacle which four miles opposed to that 
 daily and intimate intercourse with her 
 friends at the Grange which had been the 
 chief delight of her maiden life ; and above 
 all in the separation from her father, for even 
 at a distance which may appear so incon- 
 siderable, such it was ; but there was the 
 consolatory reflection that those dear friends 
 and that dear father concurred in approving 
 her marriage, and in rejoicing in it for her 
 sake ; and the experience of every day and 
 every year made her more and more thank- 
 ful for her lot. In the full liturgic sense of 
 the word, he worshipped her, that is, he 
 
 * NECKEB.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 393 
 
 loved, and cherished, and respected, and 
 
 that portion of its existence to which Mr. 
 
 honoured her ; and she would have obeyed 
 
 Coleridge is said to have attached such 
 
 him cheerfully as well as dutifully, if obe- 
 
 metaphysical, or, in his own language, such 
 
 dience could have been shown where there 
 
 psychological importance. But even these 
 
 was ever but one will. 
 
 Ultra-philosophers would not have main- 
 
 
 tained that a biographer ought to begin 
 
 
 before the birth of his subject. All an- 
 
 
 tecedent matter belongs to genealogical 
 
 
 writers ; astrologers themselves are content 
 
 CHAPTER CLH. 
 
 to commence their calculations from the 
 
 ODD OPINIONS CONCERNING BIOGRAPHY AND 
 
 hour and minute of the nativity. The 
 
 EDUCATION. THE AUTHOR MAKES A SECOND 
 
 fourteen years over which I formerly passed 
 
 HIATUS AS UNWILLINGLY AS HE MADE THE 
 
 for the reasons stated in the 25th Chapter of 
 
 FIRST, AND FOR THE SAME COGENT REASON. 
 
 this Opus, would have supplied more ma- 
 
 Ya sabes pero esfonoso 
 Repetirlo, aunque lo sepai. CALDERON. 
 
 terials than any equal portion of his life, if 
 the Doctor had been his own historian ; for 
 
 
 in those years his removal from home took 
 
 UNWILLINGLY, as the Reader may re- 
 
 place, his establishment at Doncaster, and 
 
 member, though he cannot possibly know 
 
 his course of studies at Leyden, the most 
 
 with how much unwillingness, I passed over 
 
 momentous events in his uneventful history, 
 
 fourteen years of Daniel Dove's youth, 
 
 except the great one of marriage, which 
 
 being the whole term of his adolescence, and 
 
 either makes or mars the happiness of both 
 
 a fifth part of that appointed sum, beyond 
 
 parties. 
 
 which the prolongation of human life is but 
 
 From the time of that " crowning event" 
 
 labour and sorrow. Mr. Coleridge has said 
 
 I must pass over another but longer interval, 
 
 that "the history of a man for the nine 
 
 and represent the Doctor in his married 
 
 months preceding his birth would probably 
 
 state, such as he was when it was my fortune 
 
 be far more interesting, and contain events 
 
 in early life to be blessed with his paternal 
 
 of greater moment than all the threescore 
 and ten years that follow it." * Mr. Coleridge 
 
 friendship, for such it might be called. Age 
 like his, and Youth might well live together, 
 
 was a philosopher, in many points, of the 
 
 for there was no crabbedness in his age. 
 
 first order, and it has been truly said by one 
 
 Youth, therefore, was made the better and 
 
 of the ancients that there is nothing so 
 
 the happier by such society. It was full of 
 
 absurd but that some philosopher has ad- 
 
 pleasure instead of care ; not like winter, 
 
 vanced it. Mr. Coleridge, however, was not 
 
 but like a fine summer evening, or a mild 
 
 always in earnest when he said startling 
 
 autumn, or like the light of a harvest 
 
 things ; and they who suppose that the 
 
 moon, 
 
 opinions of such a man are to be collected 
 
 
 r 
 
 from what he says playfully in the freedom 
 
 Which sheds o'er all the sleeping scene 
 A soft nocturnal day .t 
 
 of social intercourse to amuse himself, and 
 
 
 perhaps to astonish others, may as well 
 
 
 expect to hold an eel by the tail. 
 
 
 There were certain French legislators in 
 
 
 the days of Liberty and Equality, who held 
 
 
 that education ought to begin before birth, 
 
 
 and therefore they proposed to enact laws 
 
 
 for the benefit of the homunculus during 
 
 
 * Most probably Mr. Coleridge said this with reference 
 
 
 to Sir Thomas Browne, who maintained that every man, 
 
 
 at his birth, was nine months old. 
 
 t JAMES MONTGOMERY. 
 
 
 1
 
 394 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 CHAPTER CLTII. 
 
 MATRIMONY AND BAZOKS. MGHT SAYINGS 
 LEADING TO GRAVE THOUGHTS. USES OF 
 SHAVING. 
 
 I wonder whence that tear came, when I smiled 
 In the production on't ! Sorrow's a thief 
 That can, when joy looks on, steal forth a grief. 
 
 MASSINGER. 
 
 OH pitiable condition of human kind ! One 
 colour is born to slavery abroad, and one 
 sex to shavery at home! A woman, to 
 secure her comfort and well-being in this 
 country, stands in need of one thing only, 
 which is a good husband ; but a man hath to 
 provide himself with two things, a good wife, 
 and a good razor, and it is more difficult to 
 find the latter than the former. The Doctor 
 made these remarks one day, when his chin 
 was smarting after an uncomfortable opera- 
 tion ; and Mrs. Dove retorted by saying that 
 women had still the less favourable lot, for 
 scarce as good razors might be, good hus- 
 bands were still scarcer. 
 
 " Ay," said the Doctor, " Deborah is right, 
 and it is even so ; for the goodness of wife, 
 husband, and razor depends upon their 
 temper, and, taking in all circumstances and 
 causes natural and adventitious, we might 
 reasonably conclude that steel would more 
 often be tempered precisely to the just 
 degree, than that the elements of which 
 humanity is composed should be all nicely 
 proportioned and amalgamated happily. 
 Rarely indeed could Nature stand up, and 
 pointing out a sample of its workmanship in 
 this line say to all the world this is a Man ! 
 meaning thereby what man, rational, civi- 
 lised, well educated, redeemed, immortal 
 man, may and ought to be. Where this 
 could be said in one instance, in a thousand 
 or ten thousand others she might say this is 
 what Man has by his own devices made 
 himself, a sinful and miserable creature, 
 weak or wicked, selfish, sensual, earthly- 
 minded, busy in producing temporal evil for 
 others, and everlasting evil for himself!" 
 
 But as it was his delight to find good, or 
 to look for it, in everything, and especially 
 when he could discover the good which may 
 
 be educed from evil, he used to say that 
 more good than evil resulted from shaving, 
 preposterous as he knew the practice to be, 
 irrational as he admitted it was, and trouble- 
 some as to his cost he felt it. The incon- 
 venience and the discomfort of the operation 
 no doubt were great, very great, espe- 
 cially in frosty weather, and during March 
 winds, and when the beard is a strong beard. 
 He did not extenuate the greatness of this 
 evil, which was moreover of daily recurrence. 
 Nay, he said, it was so great, that had it 
 been necessary for physical reasons, that is 
 to say, were it a law of nature, instead of a 
 practice enjoined by the custom of the 
 country, it would undoubtedly have been 
 mentioned in the third chapter of the book 
 of Genesis, as the peculiar penalty inflicted 
 upon the sons of Adam, because of his 
 separate share in the primal offence. The 
 daughters of Eve, as is well known, suffer 
 expressly for their mother's sin ; and the 
 final though not apparent cause why the 
 practice of shaving, which is apparently so 
 contrary to reason, should universally pre- 
 vail in all civilised Christian countries, the 
 Doctor surmised might be, that by this 
 means the sexes were placed in this respect 
 upon an equality, each having its own 
 penalty to bear, and those penalties being 
 perhaps on the whole equal ; or if man 
 had the heavier for his portion, it was no 
 more than he deserved, for having yielded 
 to the weaker vessel. These indeed are 
 things which can neither be weighed nor 
 measured; but it must be considered that 
 shaving comes every day to all men of what 
 may be called the clean classes, and to the 
 poorest labourer or handicraft once a week ; 
 and that if the daily shavings of one year, 
 or eve i the weekly ones, could be put into 
 one shave, the operation would be fatal, 
 it would be more than flesh and blood could 
 bear. 
 
 In the case of man this penalty brought 
 with it no after compensation, and here the 
 female had the advantage. Some good 
 nevertheless resulted from it, both to the 
 community and to the individual shaver, 
 unless he missed it by his own fault.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 395 
 
 To the community because it gives em- 
 ployment to Barbers, a lively and loqua- 
 cious race, who are everywhere the great 
 receivers and distributors of all news, private 
 or public in their neighbourhood. 
 
 To the individual, whether he were, like 
 the Doctor himself, and as Zebedee is fami- 
 liarly said to have been, an autokureus, 
 which is being interpreted a self-shaver, or 
 shaver of himself; or merely a shavee, as the 
 labouring classes almost always are, the 
 operation in either case brings the patient 
 into a frame of mind favourable to his moral 
 improvement. He must be quiet and com- 
 posed when under the operator's hands, and 
 not less so if under his own. In whatever 
 temper or state of feeling he may take his 
 seat in the barber's chair, or his stand at the 
 looking-glass, he must at once become calm. 
 There must be no haste, no impatience, no 
 irritability ; so surely as he gives way to 
 either, he will smart for it. And however 
 prone to wander his thoughts may be, at 
 other and perhaps more serious times, he 
 must be as attentive to what he is about in 
 the act of shaving, as if he were working a 
 problem in mathematics. 
 
 As a lion's heart and a lady's hand are 
 among the requisites for a surgeon, so are 
 they for the Zebedeean shaver. He must 
 have a steady hand, and a mind steadied for 
 the occasion ; a hand confident in its skill, 
 and a mind assured that the hand is compe- 
 tent to the service upon which it is ordered. 
 Fear brings with it its immediate punish- 
 ment as surely as in a field of battle ; if he 
 but think of cutting himself, cut himself he 
 will. 
 
 I hope I shall not do so to-morrow ; but 
 if what I have just written should come into 
 my mind, and doubt come over me in con- 
 sequence, too surely then I shall ! Let me 
 forget myself, therefore, as quickly as I can, 
 and fall again into the train of the Doctor's 
 thoughts. 
 
 Did not the Due de Brissac perform the 
 operation himself for a moral and dignified 
 sentiment, instead of letting himself be 
 shaved by his valet-de-chambre ? Often was 
 he heard to say unto himself in grave soli- 
 
 loquy, while holding the razor open, and 
 adjusting the blade to the proper angle, in 
 readiness for the first stroke, " Timoleon de 
 Cosse, God hath made thee a Gentleman, 
 and the King hath made thee a Duke. It 
 is nevertheless right and fit that thou 
 shouldst have something to do ; therefore 
 thou shalt shave thyself!" In this spirit 
 of humility did that great Peer " mundify 
 his muzzel." 
 
 De sqavoir les raisons pourquoy son pere 
 luy donna ce nom de Timoleon, encore que ce 
 ne fut nom Chretien, mais payen, il ne se 
 pent dire ; toutesfois, a limitation des Italiens 
 et des Grecs, qui ont emprunte la plus part des 
 noms pay ens, et ra'en sont corrigez pour cela, et 
 rf en font aucun scruple, il avoitcette opinion, 
 que son pere luy avoit donne ce nom par 
 humeur, et venant a lire la vie de Timoleon 
 elle luy pleut, et pour ce en imposa le nom a 
 sonjils, presageant quun jour il luy seroit 
 semblable. Et certes pour si pen qu'il a vesqu, 
 il luy a ressemble quelque peu ; mais, s'il eust 
 vesqu il ne Teust ressemble quelque peu en sa 
 retraite si longue, et en son temporisement si 
 tardif qu'il fit, et si longue abstinence de 
 guerre ; ainsi que luy-mesme le disoit souvent, 
 qu'il ne demeureroit pour tous les biens du 
 monde retire si longuement que fit ce Timo- 
 leon* This is a parenthesis : I return to 
 our philosopher's discourse. 
 
 And what lectures, I have heard the 
 Doctor say, does the looking-glass, at such 
 times, read to those men who look in it at 
 such times only ! The glass is no flatterer, 
 the person in no disposition to flatter him- 
 self, the plight in which he presents himself 
 assuredly no flattering one. It would be 
 superfluous to have Yv&Qi Stavrbv inscribed 
 upon the frame of the mirror; he cannot 
 fail to know himself, who contemplates his 
 own face there, long and steadily, every day. 
 Nor can he as he waxes old need a death's 
 head for a memento in his closet or his 
 chamber ; for day by day he traces the de- 
 features which the hand of Time is making, 
 that hand which never suspends its work. 
 
 Thus his good melancho'y oft began 
 On the catastrophe and heel of pastime. t 
 
 * BRANTOME. 
 
 t SHAKESPEARE.
 
 396 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 " When I was a round-faced, red-faced, 
 smooth-faced boy," said he to me one day, 
 following the vein upon which he had thus 
 fallen, " I used to smile if people said they 
 thought me like my father, or my mother, 
 or my uncle. I now discern the resemblance 
 to each and all of them myself, as age brings 
 out the primary and natural character of the 
 countenance, and wears away all that acci- 
 dental circumstances had superinduced upon 
 it. The recognitions, the glimpses which 
 at such times I get of the departed, carry 
 my thoughts into the past; and bitter, 
 bitter indeed would those thoughts be, if my 
 anticipations (wishes I might almost call 
 them, were it lawful as wishes to indulge in 
 them) did not also lead me into the future, 
 when I shall be gathered to my fathers in 
 spirit, though these mortal exuvice should not 
 be laid to moulder with them under the 
 same turf." * 
 
 There were very few to whom he talked 
 thus. If he had not entirely loved me, he 
 would never have spoken to me in this strain. 
 
 CHAPTER CLIV. 
 
 A POET'S CALCULATION CONCERNING THE 
 TIME EMPLOYED IN SHAVING, AND THE 
 USE THAT MIGHT BE MADE OF IT. THE 
 LAKE POETS LAKE SHAVERS ALSO. A PRO- 
 TEST AGAINST LAKE SHAVING. 
 
 Intellect and industry are never incompatible. There 
 is more wisdom, and will be more benefit, in combining 
 them than scholars like to believe, or than the common 
 world imagine. Life has time enough for both, and its 
 happiness will be increased by the union. 
 
 SHARON TURNER. 
 
 THE poet Campbell is said to have calculated 
 that a man who shaves himself every day, 
 
 * The passage following is from a letter of Southey's, 
 published by Sir Egerton Brydges in his Autobiography: 
 " Did you ever remark how remarkably old age brings 
 out family likenesses, which, having been kept, as it were, 
 in abeyance while the passions and the business of the 
 world engrossed the parties, come forth again in age (as 
 in infancy), the features settling into their primary cha- 
 racters before dissolution ? I have seen some affecting 
 instances of this, a brother and sister, than whom no 
 two persons in middle life could have been more unlike 
 in countenance or in character, becoming like as twins at 
 last. I now see my father's lineaments in the looking- 
 glass, where they never used to appear." Vol. ii. p. 270. 
 
 and lives to the age of threescore and ten, 
 expends during his life as much time in the 
 act of shaving, as would have sufficed for 
 learning seven languages. 
 
 The poet Southey is said to carry shaving 
 to its ne plus ultra of independency, for he 
 shaves suits looking-glass, sans shaving- 
 brush, sans soap, or substitute for soap, sans 
 hot-water, sans cold-water, sans everything 
 except a razor. And yet among all the 
 characters which he bears in the world, no 
 one has ever given him credit for being a 
 cunning shaver ! 
 
 (Be it here observed in a parenthesis that 
 I suppose the word shaver in this so common 
 expression to have been corrupted from 
 shaveling ; the old contemptuous word for 
 a Priest.) 
 
 But upon reflection, I am not certain 
 whether it is of the poet Southey that this is 
 said, or of the poet Wordsworth. I may 
 easily have confounded one with the other 
 in my recollections, just as what was said of 
 Romulus might had been repeated of Remus 
 while they were both living and flourishing 
 together ; or as a mistake in memory might 
 have been made between the two Kings of 
 Brentford when they both quitted the stage, 
 each smelling to his nosegay, which it was 
 who made his exit P. S. and which O. P. 
 
 Indeed we should never repeat what is 
 said of public characters (a denomination 
 under which all are to be included who 
 figure in public life, from the high, mighty 
 and most illustrious Duke of Wellington at 
 this time, down to little Waddington) with- 
 out qualifying it as common report, or as 
 newspaper, or magazine authority. It is 
 very possible that the Lake poets may, both 
 of them, shave after the manner of other 
 men. The most attached friends of Mr. 
 Rogers can hardly believe that he has ac- 
 tually said all the good things which are 
 ascribed to him in a certain weekly journal ; 
 and Air. Campbell may not have made the 
 remark which I have repeated, concerning 
 the time employed in mowing the chin, and 
 the use to which the minutes that are so 
 spent might be applied. Indeed so far am I 
 from wishing to impute to this gentleman
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 397 
 
 upon common report, anything which might 
 not be to his credit, or which he might not 
 like to have the credit of, that it is with the 
 greatest difficulty I can persuade myself to 
 believe in the authenticity of his letter to 
 Mr. Moore upon the subject of Lord and 
 Lady Byron, though he has published it 
 himself, and in his own name. 
 
 Some one else may have made the calcu- 
 lation concerning shaving and languages, 
 some other poet, or proser, or one who never 
 attempted either prose or rhyme. Was he 
 not the first person who proposed the estab- 
 lishment of the London University, and if 
 this calculation were his, is it possible that 
 he should not have proposed a plan for it 
 founded thereon, which might have entitled 
 the new institution to assume the title of 
 the Polyglot College ? 
 
 Be this as it may, I will not try the sans- 
 every-thing way of shaving, let who will 
 have invented it : never will I try it, unless 
 thereto by dire necessity enforced ! I will 
 neither shave dry, nor be dry-shaved, while 
 any of those things are to be obtained which 
 either mitigate or abbreviate the operation. 
 I will have a brush, I will have Naples soap, 
 or some substitute for it, which may enable 
 me always to keep a dry and clean apparatus. 
 I will have hot-water for the sake of the 
 razor, and I will have a looking-glass for the 
 sake of my chin and my upper lip. No, 
 never will I try Lake shaving, unless thereto 
 by dire necessity enforced. 
 
 Nor would I be enforced to it by any 
 necessity less dire than that with which 
 King Arthur was threatened by a messager 
 from Kynge Ryons of North-walys ; and 
 Kynge he was of all Ireland and of many 
 Hes. And this was his message, gretynge 
 wel Kynge Arthur in this manere wyse, 
 sayenge, " that Kynge Ryons had discomfy te 
 and overcome eleaven Kynges, and everyche 
 of hem did hym homage, and that was this ; 
 they gaf hym their beardys clene flayne off, 
 as moche as ther was ; wherfor the messager 
 came for King Arthurs beard. For King 
 Ryons had purfyled * a mantel with Kynges 
 
 '. t. Ornamented. See Halliwell's Dictionary of Ar- 
 chaic and Provincial Words, v. PUKFLE. 
 
 berdes, and there lacked one place of the 
 mantel, wherfor he sent for his berd, or els 
 he wold entre in to his landes, and brenne 
 and slee, and never leve tyl he have thi hede 
 and thi berd." If the King of the Lakes 
 should require me to do him homage by 
 shaving without soap, I should answer with 
 as much spirit as was shown in the answer 
 which King Arthur returned to the Mes- 
 senger from King Ryons. " Wel, sayd 
 Arthur, thow hast said thy message, the 
 whiche is the most vylanous and lewdest 
 message that ever man herd sente unto a 
 Kynge. Also thow mayst see, my berd is 
 ful yong yet to make a purfyl of hit. But 
 telle thow thy Kynge this ; I owe hym none 
 homage, ne none of mine elders ; but or it 
 be longe to, he shall do me homage on bothe 
 his kneys, or els he shall lese his hede by the 
 feithe of my body, for this is the most 
 shamefullest message that ever I herd 
 speke of. I have aspyed, thy King met 
 never yet with worshipful man ; but telle 
 hym, I wyll have his hede without he doo 
 me homage : Then the messager departed." 
 
 CHAPTER CLV. 
 
 THE POET'S CALCULATION TESTED AND 
 PEOVED. 
 
 Fiddle-faddle, don't tell of this and that, and every thing 
 in the world, but give me mathematical demonstration. 
 
 CONCRETE. 
 
 BUT I will test (as an American would say, 
 though let it be observed in passing that 
 I do not advocate the use of Americanisms,) 
 I will test Mr. Campbell's assertion. And 
 as the Lord President of the New Monthly 
 Magazine has not favoured the woi'ld with 
 the calculations upon which his assertion, if 
 his it be, is founded, I will investigate it, 
 step by step, with which intent I have this 
 morning, Saturday, May the fifteenth, 1830, 
 minuted myself during the act of shaving. 
 
 The time employed was, within a second 
 or two more or less, nine minutes. 
 
 I neither hurried the operation, nor 
 lingered about it. Everything was done in
 
 398 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 my ordinary orderly way, steadily, and 
 without waste of time. 
 
 Now as to my beard, it is not such a beard 
 as that of Domenico d'Ancona, which was 
 delle barbe la corona, that is to say the crown 
 of beards, or rather, in English idiom, the 
 king. 
 
 Una barba la pill tingulare 
 Che mai fosse discritta in verso o'n prosa, 
 A beard the most unparallell'd 
 That ever was yet described in prose or rhyme, 
 
 and of which Berni says that the Barber 
 ought to have felt less reluctance in cutting 
 the said Domenico's throat, than in cutting 
 off so incomparable a beard. Neither do I 
 think that mine ever by possibility could vie 
 with that of Futteh AH Shah, King of 
 Persia at this day : nay, I doubt whether 
 Macassar Oil, Bear's grease, Elephant's 
 marrow, or the approved recipe of sour 
 milk with which the Persians cultivate their 
 beards, could ever bring mine to the far 
 inferior growth of his son's, Prince Abbas 
 Mirza. Indeed no Mussulmen would ever 
 look upon it, as they did upon Mungo 
 Park's, with envious eyes, and think that it 
 was too good a beard for a Christian. But 
 for a Christian, and moreover an English- 
 man, it is a sufficient beard ; and for the 
 individual a desirable one : nihil me poenitet 
 hujus barbce ; desirable I say, inasmuch as it 
 is in thickness and rate of growth rather 
 below the average standard of beards. Nine 
 minutes, therefore, will be about the average 
 time required for shaving, by a Zebedeean, 
 one who shaves himself. A professional 
 operator makes quicker work ; but he cannot 
 be always exactly to the time, and at the 
 year's end as much may have been lost in 
 waiting for the barber, as is gained by his 
 celerity of hand. 
 
 Assuming, then, the moderate average of 
 nine minutes, nine minutes per day amount 
 to an hour and three minutes per week ; an 
 hour and three minutes per week are fifty- 
 four hours thirty-six minutes per year. We 
 will suppose that our shaver begins to 
 operate every day when he has completed 
 his twentieth year ; many, if not most men, 
 begin earlier ; they will do so if they are 
 ambitious of obtaining whiskers ; they must 
 
 do so if their beards are black, or carroty, 
 or of strong growth. There are, then, fifty 
 years of daily shaving to be computed ; and 
 in that time he will have consumed two 
 thousand, seven hundred and thirty hours in 
 the act of shaving himself. I have stated 
 the numbers throughout in words, to guard 
 against the mistakes which always creep into 
 the after editions of any book, when figures 
 are introduced. 
 
 Now let us see whether a man could in 
 that time acquire a competent knowledge of 
 seven languages. 
 
 I do not, of course, mean such a knowledge 
 as Professor Person and Dr. Elmsley had 
 attained of Greek, or as is possessed by 
 Bishop Blomfield and Bishop Monk, but a 
 passable knowledge of living languages, such 
 as would enable a man to read them with 
 facility and pleasure, if not critically, and to 
 travel without needing either an interpreter 
 or the use of French in the countries 
 where they are spoken. 
 
 Dividing, therefore, two thousand seven 
 hundred and thirty, being the number of 
 hours which might be appropriated to learn- 
 ing languages, by seven, the number of 
 languages to be learnt, we have three hun- 
 dred and ninety hours for each language ; 
 three hundred and ninety lessons of an hour 
 long, wherein it is evident that any per- 
 son of common capacity might with common 
 diligence learn to read, speak, and write 
 sufficiently well for all ordinary purposes, 
 any European language. The assertion, there- 
 fore, though it might seem extravagant at 
 first, is true as far as it goes, and is only 
 inaccurate because it is far short of the truth. 
 
 For take notice that I did not strop the 
 razor this morning, but only passed it, after 
 the operation, ten or twelve times over the 
 palm of the hand, according to my every-day 
 practice. One minute more at least would 
 have been required for stropping. There are 
 many men whose beards render it necessary 
 for them to apply to the strop every day, 
 and for a longer time, and who are obliged 
 to try first one razor and then another. But 
 let us allow only a minute for this one 
 minute a day amounts to six hours five
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 399 
 
 minutes in the year ; and in fifty years to 
 three hundred and four hours ten minutes, 
 time enough for an eighth language. 
 
 Observe, also, that some languages are so 
 easy, and others so nearly related to each 
 other, that very much less than half the 
 number of hours allowed in this computation 
 would suffice for learning them. It is strictly 
 true that in the time specified a man of good 
 capacity might add seven more languages to 
 the seven for which that computation was 
 formed ; and that a person who has any re- 
 markable aptitude for such studies might in 
 that time acquire every language in which 
 there are books to be procured. 
 
 He bien, me suis-je enjin rendu crogable f Est-on con- 
 tent f* 
 
 See, Reader, what the value of time is, 
 when put out at simple interest. But there 
 is no simple interest in knowledge. What- 
 ever funds you have in that Bank go on in- 
 creasing by interest upon interest, till the 
 Bank fails. 
 
 CHAPTER CLVI. 
 
 AN ANECDOTE OF WESLEY, AND AN ARGU- 
 MENT ARISING OUT OF IT, TO SHOW THAT 
 THE TIME EMPLOYED IN SHAVING IS NOT 
 SO MUCH LOST TIME ; AND YET THAT THE 
 POET'S CALCULATION REMAINS OF PRAC- 
 TICAL USE. 
 
 Questo medesimo anchora con una altra gagliardissima 
 ragione vi confermo. LODOVICO DOMINICHI. 
 
 THERE was a poor fellow among John 
 Wesley's followers, who suffered no razor to 
 approach his chin, and thought it impossible 
 that any one could be saved who did : shav- 
 ing was in his opinion a sin for which there 
 could be no redemption. If it had been 
 convenient for their interests to put him out 
 of the way, his next of kin would have had 
 no difficulty in obtaining a lettre de cachet 
 against him from a mad-doctor, and he might 
 have been imprisoned for life, for this harm- 
 less madness. This person came one day to 
 
 Mr. Wesley, after sermon, and said to him 
 in a manner which manifested great concern, 
 " Sir, you can have no place in Heaven with- 
 out a beard ! therefore, I entreat you, let 
 your's grow immediately ! " 
 
 Had he put the matter to Wesley as a 
 case of conscience, and asked that great 
 economist of time how he could allow him- 
 self every day of his life to bestow nine 
 precious minutes upon a needless operation, 
 the Patriarch of the Methodists might have 
 been struck by the appeal, but he would soon 
 have perceived that it could not be supported 
 by any just reasoning. 
 
 For in the first place, in a life of such in- 
 cessant activity as his, the time which Wesley 
 employed in shaving himself, was so much 
 time for reflection. However busy he might 
 be, as he always was, however hurried he 
 might be on that particular day, here was a 
 portion of time, small indeed, but still a dis- 
 tinct and apprehensible portion, in which he 
 could call his thoughts to council. Like our 
 excellent friend, he was a person who knew 
 this, and he profited by it, as well knowing 
 what such minutes of reflection are worth. 
 For although thought cometh, like the wind, 
 when it listeth, yet it listeth to come at re- 
 gular appointed times, when the mind is in a 
 state of preparation for it, and the mind will 
 be brought into that state, unconsciously, 
 by habit. We may be as ready for medita- 
 tion at a certain hour, as we are for dinner, 
 or for sleep ; and there will be just as little 
 need for an effort of volition on our part. 
 
 Secondly, Mr. Wesley would have con- 
 sidered that if beards were to be worn, some 
 care and consequently some time must be 
 bestowed upon them. The beard must be 
 trimmed occasionally, if you would not have 
 it as ragged as an old Jew Clothes-man's : it 
 must also be kept clean, if you would not 
 have it inhabited like the Emperor Julian's ; 
 and if you desired to have it like Aaron's 
 you would oil it. Therefore it is probable 
 that a Zebedeean, who is cleanly in his habits 
 would not save any time by letting his beard 
 grow. 
 
 But it is certain that the practice of shav- 
 ing must save time for fashionable men,
 
 400 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 though it must be admitted that these are 
 persons whose time is not worth saving, who 
 are not likely to make any better use of it, 
 and who are always glad when any plea can 
 be invented for throwing away a portion of 
 what hangs so heavily upon their hands. 
 
 Alas, Sir, what is a Gentleman's time ! 
 
 there are some brains 
 
 Can never lose their time, whate'er they do.* 
 
 For in former times as much pains were be- 
 stowed on dressing the beard, as in latter 
 ones upon dressing the hair. Sometimes it 
 was braided with threads of gold. It was 
 dyed to all colours, according to the mode, 
 and cut to all shapes, as you may here learn 
 from John Taylor's Superbice Flagellum. 
 
 Now a few lines to paper I will put, 
 
 Of men's beards strange and variable cut : 
 
 In which there's some do take as vain a pride, 
 
 As almost in all other things beside. 
 
 Some are reap'd most substantial like a brush, 
 
 Which make a natural wit known by the bush : 
 
 (And in my time of some men I have heard, 
 
 Whose wisdom hath been only wealth and beard,) 
 
 Many of these the proverb well doth fit, 
 
 Which says Bush natural, more hair than wit. 
 
 Some seem as they were starched stiff and fine, 
 
 Like to the bristles of some angry swine : 
 
 And some (to set their Love's desire on edge) 
 
 Are cut and pruned like to a quickset hedge. 
 
 Some like a spade, some like a fork, some square, 
 
 Some round, some mowed like stubble, some stark bare, 
 
 Some sharp stiletto fashion, dagger like, 
 
 That may with whispering a man's eyes out pike : 
 
 Some with the hammer cut or Roman T, 
 
 Their beards extravagant reformed must be, 
 
 Some with the quadrate, some triangle fashion, 
 
 Some circular, some oval in translation, 
 
 Some perpendicular in longitude, 
 
 Some like a thicket for their crassitude, 
 
 That heights, depths, breadths, triform, square, oval, 
 round, 
 
 And rules geometrical in beards are found ; 
 
 Beside the upper lips strange variation, 
 
 Corrected from mutation to mutation ; 
 
 As't were from tithing unto tithing sent, 
 
 Pride gives to Pride continual punishment. 
 
 Some (spile their teeth) like thatched eaves downward 
 grows, 
 
 And some grow upwards in despite their nose. 
 
 Some their mustachios of such length do keep, 
 
 That very well they may a manger sweep ? 
 
 Which in Beer, Ale, or Wine, they drinking plunge, 
 
 And suck the liquor up as't were a sponge-; 
 
 But 'tis a Sloven's beastly Pride I think 
 
 To wash his beard where other men must drink. 
 
 And some (because they will not rob the cup) 
 
 Their upper chaps like pot hooks are turned up, 
 
 The Barbers thus (like Tailors) still must be, 
 
 Acquainted with each cut's variety. t 
 
 MAY. 
 
 t TAYLOR the Water Poet. 
 
 In comparison with such fashions, clean 
 shaving is clear gain of time. And to what 
 follies and what extravagances would the 
 whiskerandoed macaronies of Bond Street 
 and St. James's proceed, if the beard once 
 more were, instead of the neckcloth, to 
 " make the man ! " They who have put on 
 the whole armour of Dandeyism, having 
 their loins girt with stays, and having put 
 on the breast-plate of buckram, and having 
 their feet shod by Hoby ! 
 
 I myself, if I wore a beard, should cherish 
 it, as the Cid Campeador did his, for my 
 pleasure. I should regale it on a summer's 
 day with rose water; and, without making it 
 an Idol, I should sometimes offer incense to 
 it, with a pastille, or with lavender and sugar. 
 My children when they were young enough 
 for such blandishments would have delighted 
 to stroke, and comb, and curl it, and my 
 grand-children in their turn would have 
 succeeded to the same course of mutual en- 
 dearment. 
 
 Methinks then I have shown that although 
 the Campbellian, or Pseudo-Campbellian 
 assertion concerning the languages which 
 might be acquired in the same length of 
 time that is consumed in shaving, is no other- 
 wise incorrect than as being short of the 
 truth, it is not a legitimate consequence from 
 that proposition that the time employed in 
 shaving is lost time, because the care and 
 culture of a beard would in all cases require 
 as much, and in many would exact much 
 more. But the practical utility of the pro- 
 position, and of the demonstration with 
 which it has here been accompanied, is not 
 a whit diminished by this admission. For, 
 what man is there, who, let his business, 
 private or public, be as much as it will, 
 cannot appropriate nine minutes a-day to 
 any object that he likes ?
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 401 
 
 CHAPTER CLVII. 
 
 WHICH THE READER WILL FIND LIKE A 
 BOASTED MAGGOT, SHORT AND SWEET. 
 
 Malum quod minimum est, id minimum tit malum. 
 
 PLAUTUS. 
 
 BUT here one of those persons who acting 
 upon the proverbial precept which bids us 
 look before we leap, look so long that they 
 never leap at all, offers a demurrer. 
 
 It may be perfectly true, he observes, that 
 a language may be learned in three hundred 
 and ninety lessons of an hour each. But in 
 your proposition the hour is broken into 
 several small parts ; we will throw in an 
 additional minute, and say six such portions. 
 What I pray you can a lesson of ten minutes 
 be worth ? 
 
 To this- 1 reply that short lessons are best, 
 and are specifically enjoined in the new 
 System of Education. Dr. Bell says in his 
 Manual of Instructions for conducting 
 Schools, " in the beginning never prescribe 
 a lesson or task, which the Scholar can 
 require more than ten minutes, or a quarter 
 of an hour, to learn." 
 
 On this authority, and on the authority of 
 experience also, I recommend short lessons. 
 For the same reasons, or for reasons nearly 
 or remotely related to them, I like short 
 stages, short accounts, short speeches, and 
 short sermons ; I do not like short measure 
 or short commons ; and, like Mr. Shandy, I 
 dislike short noses. I know nothing about 
 the relative merit of short-horned cattle. I 
 doubt concerning the propriety of short 
 meals. I disapprove of short parliaments 
 and short petticoats ; I prefer puffpaste to 
 short pie-crust ; and I cut this chapter short 
 for the sake of those readers who may like 
 short chapters. 
 
 CHAPTER CLVm. 
 
 DB. DOVE'S PRECEPTORIAL PRESCRIPTION 
 TO BE TAKEN BY THOSE WHO NEED IT. 
 
 Some strange devise, I know, each youthful wight 
 
 Would here expect, or lofty brave assay : 
 
 But I'll the simple truth in simple wise convey. 
 
 HENRY MORE. 
 
 Now comes the question of a youth after my 
 own heart, so quick in his conclusions that 
 his leap seems rather to keep pace with his 
 look than to follow it. He will begin to- 
 morrow, and only asks my advice upon the 
 method of proceeding. 
 
 Take the Grammar of any modern lan- 
 guage, and read the dialogues in it, till you 
 are acquainted with the common connecting 
 words, and know the principal parts of 
 speech by sight. Then look at the de- 
 clensions and the verbs you will already 
 have learned something of their inflections, 
 and may now commit them to memory, or 
 write them down. Read those lessons, which 
 you ought to read daily in a bible of this 
 language, having the English bible open 
 beside it. Your daily task will soon be 
 either to learn the vocabulary, or to write 
 exercises, or simply to read, according to 
 the use which you mean to make of your 
 new acquirement. You must learn me- 
 moriter, and exercise yourself in writing if 
 you wish to educate your ear and your 
 tongue for foreign service ; but all that is 
 necessary for your own instruction and 
 delight at home may be acquired by the eye 
 alone. 
 
 Qui mihi Discipulus es cupis alque doceri, 
 try this method for ten minutes a-day, per- 
 severingly, and you will soon be surprised at 
 your own progress. 
 
 (lnod Mi deest, it te ipso mutuare, 
 
 it is Cato's advice. 
 
 Ten minutes you can bestow upon a 
 modern language, however closely you may 
 be engaged in pursuits of immediate ne- 
 cessity ; even tho' you should be in a public 
 office from which Joseph Hume, or some of 
 bis worthy compeers, has moved for volu-
 
 402 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 minous returns. (Never work at extra 
 hours upon such returns, unless extra pay is 
 allowed for the additional labour and con- 
 finement to the desk, as in justice it ought 
 to be. But if you are required to do so by 
 the superiors, who ought to protect you from 
 such injustice, send petition after petition to 
 Parliament, praying that when the abolition 
 or mitigation of slavery shall be taken into 
 consideration, your case may be considered 
 also.) 
 
 Any man who will, may command ten 
 minutes. Exercet philosophia regnum suum, 
 says Seneca ; dot tempus, non accipit. Non 
 est res subcisiva, ordinaria est, domina est; 
 adest, et jubet. Ten minutes the Under 
 Graduate who reads this may bestow upon 
 German, even though he should be in train- 
 ing for the University races. Ten minutes 
 he can bestow upon German, which I re- 
 commend because it is a master-key for 
 many doors both of language and of know- 
 ledge. His mind will be refreshed even by 
 this brief change of scene and atmosphere. 
 In a few weeks (I repeat) he will wonder at 
 his own progress : and in a few years, if he 
 is good for anything if the seed has not 
 been sown upon a stony place, nor among 
 thorns, he will bless me his unknown be- 
 nefactor, for showing him by what small 
 savings of time a man may become rich in 
 mind. " And so I end my counsel, beseech- 
 ing thee to begin to follow it." * 
 
 But not unto me be the praise! O 
 Doctor, O my guide, philosopher and 
 friend ! 
 
 Like to the bee thou everywhere didst roam 
 
 Spending thy spirits in laborious care, 
 And nightly brought'st thy gathered honey home, 
 
 As a true workman in so great affair ; 
 First of thine own deserving take the fame, 
 
 Next of thy friend's ; his due he gives to thee, 
 That love of learning may renown thy name. 
 
 And leave it richly to posterity.! 
 
 I have but given freely what freely I have 
 received. This knowledge I owe, and what 
 indeed is there in my intellectual progress 
 which I do not owe to my ever-beloved 
 friend and teacher, my moral physician ? 
 
 * EUPHUES, A. M. 
 
 t RESTITUTA. 
 
 his plausive words 
 He scattered not in ears, but grafted them 
 To grow there and to bear.f. 
 
 To his alteratives and tonics I am chiefly 
 (under Providence) indebted for that sanity 
 of mind which I enjoy, and that strength, 
 whatever may be its measure, which I 
 possess. It was his method, his way, he 
 called it ; in these days when we dignify 
 everything, it might be called the Dovean 
 system or the Columbian, which he would 
 have preferred. 
 
 CHAPTER CLIX. 
 
 THE AUTHOR COMPARES HIMSELF AND THE 
 DOCTOR TO CARDINAL WOLSEY AND KING 
 HENRY VIII., AND SUGGESTS SUNDRY 
 SIMILES FOR THE STYLE OF HIS BOOK. 
 
 I doubt not but some will liken me to the Lover in a 
 modern Comedy, who was combing his peruke and setting 
 his cravat before his mistress ; and being asked by her 
 when he intended to begin his court ? replied, he had 
 been doing it all this while. URVDEN. 
 
 IT cannot be necessary for me to remind the 
 benevolent reader, that at those times when 
 a half or a quarter-witted critic might cen- 
 sure me for proceeding egotistically, I am 
 nevertheless carrying on the primary inten- 
 tion with which this work was undertaken, 
 as directly as if the Doctor were the imme- 
 diate and sole theme of every chapter ; 
 
 Non enint excursus hie sed opus ipsum est.$ 
 
 For whatever does not absolutely relate to 
 him is derived directly or indirectly from 
 him ; it is directly derivative when I am 
 treating upon subjects which it has been my 
 good fortune to hear him discuss ; and in- 
 directly when I am led to consider the topics 
 that incidentally arise, according to the way 
 of thinking in which he trained me to go. 
 
 As Wolsey inscribed upon one of his mag 
 nificent buildings the words Ego et Ilex 
 Meus, so might I place upon the portal of 
 this Edifice Ego et Doctor Meus, for I am as 
 much his creature as Wolsey was the crea- 
 ture of bluff King Harry, as confessedly 
 
 SHAKESPEARE.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 403 
 
 so, and as gratefully. Without the King's 
 favour Wolsey could not have founded 
 Christ Church ; without the Doctor's friend- 
 ship I could not have edified this monument 
 to his memory. Without the King's favour 
 Wolsey would never have obtained the Car- 
 dinal's hat; and had it not been for the 
 favour, and friendship, and example of the 
 Doctor, never should I have been entitled to 
 wear that cap, my reasons for not wearing 
 which have heretofore been stated, that cap 
 which to one who knows how to wear it be- 
 comingly, is worth more than a coronet or a 
 mitre ; and confers upon the wearer a more 
 lasting distinction. 
 
 His happy mind, like the not less happy 
 and not more active intellect of Humboldt 
 King of Travellers, was excursive in its 
 habits. To such discursive or excursive- 
 ness I also was prone, and he who observed 
 in me this propensity encouraged it, temper- 
 ing, however, that encouragement with his 
 wonted discretion. Let your imagination, 
 he said, fly like the lady-bird, 
 
 North, south, and east, and west, 
 
 but take care that it always comes home to 
 rest. 
 
 Perhaps it may be said therefore of his 
 unknown friend and biographer as Passovier 
 said of Michel de Montaigne, il estoit per- 
 sonnage hardy, qui se croyoit, et comme tel se 
 laissoit aisement emporter a, la beaute de son 
 esprit; tellement que par ses ecrits il prenoit 
 plaisir de desplaire plaisamment. 
 
 Perhaps also some one who for his own 
 happiness is conversant with the literature 
 of that affluent age, may apply to the said 
 unknown what Balzac said of the same great 
 Michael, Michael the second, (Michael Angelo 
 was Michael the first,) Montaigne sqait bien 
 ce qui il dit ; mais, sans violer le respect qui 
 luy est deu, je pense aussi, quil ne sqait pas 
 toujours ce quil va dire. 
 
 Dear Reader you may not only say this of 
 the unknown, sans violer le respect qui luy 
 est deu, but you will pay him what he will 
 consider both a great and a just compliment, 
 in saying so. 
 
 For I have truly endeavoured to observe 
 
 the precepts of my revered Mentor, and to 
 follow his example, which I venture to hope 
 the judicious reader will think I have done 
 with some success. He may have likened 
 me for the manner in which I have conducted 
 this great argument to a gentle falcon, which, 
 however high it may soar to command a 
 wider region with its glance, and however 
 far it may fly in pursuit of its quarry, returns 
 always to the falconer's hand. 
 
 Learned and discreet reader, if you should 
 not always discern the track of associations 
 over which I have passed as fleetly as Ca- 
 milla over the standing corn ; if the story 
 which I am relating to thee should seem in 
 its course sometimes to double like a hare 
 in her flight, or in her sport, sometimes to 
 bound forward like a jerboa, or kangaroo, 
 and with such a bound that like Milton's 
 Satan it overleaps all bounds ; or even to 
 skip like a flea, so as to be here, there and 
 everywhere, taking any direction rather 
 than that which will bring it within your 
 catch ; learned and discreet reader, if any 
 of these similitudes should have occurred to 
 you, think of Pindar, read Landor's Gebir, 
 and remember what Mr. Coleridge has said 
 for himself formerly, and prophetically for 
 me, intettigenda non intellectum adfero. 
 Would you have me plod forward like a tor- 
 toise in my narration, foot after foot in 
 minute steps, dragging his slow tail along ? 
 Or with such deliberate preparation for pro- 
 gressive motion that like a snail the slime of 
 my way should be discernible ? 
 
 A bye-stander at chess who is ignorant of 
 the game presently understands the straight 
 and lateral movement of the rooks, the dia- 
 gonal one of the bishops, and the power which 
 the Queen possesses of using both. But the 
 knight perplexes him, till he discovers that 
 the knight's leap, eccentric as at first it seems, 
 is nevertheless strictly regulated. 
 
 We speak of erratic motions among the 
 heavenly bodies ; but it is because the course 
 they hold is far beyond our finite compre- 
 hension. 
 
 Therefore I entreat thee, dear reader, thou 
 who hast the eye of a hawk or of a sea gull, 
 and the intellectual speed of a greyhound,
 
 404 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 do not content thyself with glancing over 
 this book as an Italian Poet says 
 
 Precipitevolissimevolmente. 
 
 But I need not exhort thee thus, who art 
 quick to apprehend and quick to feel, and 
 sure to like at first sight whatever upon 
 better acquaintance deserves to be loved. 
 
 CHAPTER CLX. 
 
 MENTION OF ONE FOB WHOM THE GERMANS 
 WOULD COIN A DESIGNATION WHICH MIGHT 
 BE TRANSLATED A ONCE-HEADEB. MANY 
 MINDS IN THE SAME MAN. A POET'S 
 UNSEASONABLE REQUEST. THE AUTHOR 
 OFFEBS GOOD ADVICE TO HIS READERS, 
 AND ENFOBCES IT BT AN EPISCOPAL 
 OPINION. 
 
 Judge not before 
 
 Thou know mine intent : 
 
 But read me throughout, 
 And then say thy fill ; 
 
 As thou in opinion 
 Art minded and bent, 
 
 Whether it be 
 
 Either good or ill. E. P. 
 
 I HAVE heard of a man who made it a law 
 for himself never to read any book again 
 which had greatly pleased him on a first 
 perusal ; lest a second reading should in 
 some degree disturb the pleasurable im- 
 pression which he wished to retain of it. 
 This person must have read only for his 
 amusement, otherwise he would have known 
 that a book is worth little if it deserves to 
 be perused but once : and moreover that as 
 the same landscape appears differently at 
 different seasons of the year, at morning and 
 at evening, in bright weather and in cloudy, 
 by moonlight and at noon-day, so does the 
 same book produce a very different effect 
 upon the same reader at different times and 
 under different circumstances. 
 
 I have elsewhere said that the man of one 
 book is proverbially formidable ; but the 
 man of one reading, though he should read 
 through an ample library would never be- 
 come so. 
 
 The studious man who at forty re-peruses 
 books which he has read in his youth or 
 early manhood, vivid as his recollections of 
 them may be, finds them new, because he 
 
 brings another mind to the perusal. Worth- 
 less ones with which he may formerly have 
 been delighted appear flat and unprofitable 
 to his maturer judgment ; and on the other 
 hand sterling merit which he was before un- 
 able to appreciate, he can now understand and 
 value, having in his acquired knowledge and 
 habits of reflection the means of assaying it. 
 
 Sometimes a Poet, when he publishes 
 what in America would be called a lengthy 
 poem, with lengthy annotations, advises the 
 reader in his preface, not to read the notes 
 in their places, as they occur, lest they 
 should interrupt his clear perception and 
 enjoyment of the piece, but to read the 
 poem by itself at first; and then, for his 
 more full contentment, to begin again, and 
 peruse the notes in their order, whereby he 
 will be introduced to the more minute and 
 recondite merits of the work. 
 
 If the poets who calculate upon many 
 such readers are not wise in their generation, 
 they are happy in it. 
 
 What I request of my dear readers is far 
 more reasonable, and yet perhaps not much 
 more likely to be granted ; I request them, 
 that in justice to themselves, for that they 
 may not lose any part of the pleasure which 
 I have designed for them ; and in justice to 
 me, that I may not be defrauded of any 
 portion of that grateful applause, which 
 after a due perusal they will undoubtedly 
 bestow upon the benevolent unknown ; 
 and in justice to the ever-honoured subject 
 of these volumes, lest a hasty and erroneous 
 judgment of his character should be formed, 
 when it is only partially considered; I 
 request that they would not dip into these 
 volumes before they read them, nor while 
 they are reading them, but that they would 
 be pleased to go through the book regularly, 
 in the order of the chapters, and that when 
 they recommend the book to their friends, 
 (as they will do with the friendly intention 
 of contributing to their entertainment and 
 instruction,) they would particularly advise 
 them to begin at the beginning, or more 
 accurately speaking at the seventh chapter 
 before the beginning, and so peruse it con- 
 secutively.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 405 
 
 So doing, reader^ thou wilt perceive the 
 method and the order of the work, develop- 
 ing before thee as thou readest ; thou wilt 
 then comprehend and admire the connection 
 of the parts, and their dependence upon 
 each other, and the coherence and beauty of 
 the whole. Whereas were you only to dip 
 into it here and there, you would from such 
 a cursory and insufficient inspection come 
 perhaps to the same conclusion, " wherein 
 nothing was concluded" as the man did 
 concerning Bailey's Dictionary, who upon 
 returning the book to a neighbour from 
 whom he had borrowed it, said that he was 
 much obliged to him for the loan, and that 
 he had read it through, from beginning to 
 end, and had often been much entertained 
 by it, and was sure that the Author must 
 have been a very knowing person ; but 
 added he to confess the truth, I have 
 never been able clearly to make out what 
 the book is about. 
 
 Now as opposite causes will sometimes 
 produce a like effect, thou mightest, by 
 reading this book partially, come to the 
 same inconclusive conclusion concerning it, 
 that our friend did by reading straight 
 forward through Bailey's Dictionary; though 
 considering what there is in that Dictionary, 
 his time might have been worse employed. 
 I very well remember when I was some 
 ten years old, learning from an abridgment 
 of it as much about Abracadabra as I know 
 now. I exhort thee therefore to begin ab 
 oco, with the ante-initial chapters, and to 
 read the whole regularly ; and this advice I 
 give, bearing in mind what Bishop Hacket 
 says in his life of the Lord Keeper, Arch- 
 bishop Williams, when he inserts a speech of 
 that Chancellor-Prelate's, at full length : 
 
 " This he delivered, thus much : and I 
 took counsel with myself not to abbreviate it. 
 For it is so compact and pithy that he that 
 likes a little, must like it all. Plutarch 
 gives a rule for sanity to him that eats a 
 tortoise, f; oXqv, } M bXa>c, " eat it up all, 
 or not a whit." The reason assigned for 
 this rule would look better in Plutarch's 
 Greek than in the Episcopal English ; being 
 paraphrased it imports that a small portion 
 
 of such food is apt to produce intestinal 
 pains ; but that a hearty meal has the 
 wholesome effect of those pills which by a 
 delicate and beautiful euphuism of Dr. 
 Kitchener's are called Peristaltic Persuaders. 
 " So," proceeds the Bishop, " the speech of 
 a great orator is instructive when it is 
 entire : pinch it into an epitome, you mangle 
 the meaning and avile the eloquence." 
 
 CHAPTER CLXL 
 
 WESLEY AND THE DOCTOR OF THE SAME 
 OPINION UPON THE SUBJECT OF THESE 
 CHAPTERS. A STUPENDOUS EXAMPLE OF 
 CTCLOP^DIAN STOLIDITY. 
 
 A good razor never hurts, or scratches. Neither would 
 good wit, were men as tractable as their chins. But in- 
 stead of parting with our intellectual bristles quietly, we 
 set them up, and wriggle. Who can wonder then if we 
 are cut to the bone ? GUESSES AT TRUTH. 
 
 BOTH Mr. Wesley and Dr. Dove, who, much 
 as they differed concerning Methodism, 
 agreed remarkably well in their general 
 method of thinking, would have maintained 
 the morality and propriety of shaving, 
 against all objections founded upon the 
 quantity of time expended in that practice. 
 If the one had preached or the other des- 
 canted on the 27th verse of the 19th Chapter 
 of Leviticus, each would have shown that no 
 general application could be made of the 
 prohibition therein contained. But what 
 would they have said to the following phy- 
 sical argument which is gravely advanced in 
 Dr. Abraham Rees's New Cyclopaedia ? 
 
 " The practice of cutting the hair of the 
 head and the beard is attended with a pro- 
 digious increase of the secretion of the 
 matter of hair. It is ascertained that a 
 man of fifty years of age will have cut from 
 his head above thirteen feet, or twice his 
 own length of hair ; and of his beard, in the 
 last twenty-five years of the same period 
 above eight feet. The hair likewise, besides 
 this enormous length, will be thicker than if 
 it had been left uncut, and must lose most 
 of its juices by evaporation, from having its 
 tube and the ends of its fibres always ex-
 
 406 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 posed. The custom of shaving the beard, 
 and cutting the hair of the head, has, w'e 
 believe, been justly deprecated by some 
 physiologists. The latter has been supposed, 
 and with much apparent reason, to weaken 
 the understanding, by diverting the blood 
 from the brain to the surface of the head. 
 The connection which exists between the 
 beard and the organs of generation, and 
 likewise between the muscular strength of 
 the individual, would seem to render it im- 
 proper to interfere with its natural mode of 
 growth. Bichat attributes the superior 
 strength of the ancients to their custom of 
 wearing their beards ; and those men who 
 do not shave at present are distinguished for 
 vigour and hardihood." 
 
 Thus far we have had to deal only with a 
 grave folly, and I shall follow the writer no 
 farther. 
 
 "What would John Wesley and Daniel 
 Dove have said to the speculations and 
 assertions in this curious passage ? They 
 were both men of reading, both speculative 
 men and both professors, each in his way, of 
 the art of medicine. They would have 
 asked what proof could be produced that 
 men who let their beards grow are stronger 
 than those who shave, or that the ancients 
 were superior in bodily strength to the men 
 of the present day ? Thus they would have 
 treated his assumed facts ; and for his phi- 
 losophy, they would have inferred, that if 
 cutting the hair weakened the understand- 
 ing, and the story of Samson were a physical 
 allegory, the person who wrote and reasoned 
 thus must have been sheared at least twice 
 a week from his childhood. 
 
 If on the other hand they had been as- 
 sured that the writer had worn his hair long, 
 then they would have affirmed that, as in 
 the case of the Agonist, it was " robustious 
 to no purpose." 
 
 "When the Russian soldiers were first 
 compelled to part with their beards that they 
 might look like other European troops, they 
 complained that the cold struck into their 
 jaws and gave them the tooth-ache. The 
 sudden deprivation of a warm covering 
 might have occasioned this and other local 
 
 affections. But they are not said to have 
 complained that they had lost their wits. 
 
 They are said indeed in the days of Peter 
 the Great to have made a ready use of them 
 in relation to this very subject. Other 
 arguments had been used in vain for per- 
 suading them to part with that comfortable 
 covering which nature had provided for 
 their cheeks and chins, when one of their 
 Priests represented to them that their good 
 Czar had given orders for them to be shaved 
 only from the most religious motives and a 
 special consideration of what concerned them 
 most nearly. They were about to march 
 against the Turks. The Turks as they well 
 knew wore beards, and it was of the utmost 
 importance that they should distinguish 
 themselves from the misbelievers by this 
 visible mark, for otherwise their protector 
 St. Nicholas in whom they trusted would not 
 know his own people. This was so cogent a 
 reason that the whole army assented to it, 
 and a general shaving took place. But 
 when the campaign against the Turks was 
 over and the same troops were ordered to 
 march against the Swedes, the soldiers called 
 for the Priest, and told him they must now 
 let their beards grow again ; for the 
 Swedes shaved, and they must take care St. 
 Nicholas might know his friends from his 
 foes. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXII. 
 
 AMOUNT OF EVEET INDIVIDUAL'S PERSONAL 
 SINS ACCORDING TO THE ESTIMATE OF 
 MR. TOPLADY. THE DOCTOR'S OPINION 
 THEREON. A BILL FOR CERTAIN CHURCH 
 REPAIRS. A ROMISH LEGEND WHICH IS 
 LIKELY TO BE TRUE, AND PART OF A 
 JESUIT'S SERMON. 
 
 Mankind, tho' satirists with jobations weary uSj 
 Has only two weak parts if fairly reckon'd ; 
 
 The first of which, is trifling with things serious ; 
 And seriousness in trifles is the second. 
 
 Remove these little rubs, whoe'er knows how, 
 
 And fools will be as scarce, as wise men now. 
 
 BISHOP. 
 
 IT is not often that a sportive or fanciful 
 calculation like that of Air. Campbell can be
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 407 
 
 usefully applied, or in the dialect of the 
 Evangelical Magazine, improved. 
 
 I remember well the look, and the voice 
 and the manner with which my ever-to-be- 
 honoured friend pointed out to me a memo- 
 rable passage of this kind in the works of 
 the Reverend Augustus Toplady, of whom 
 he used to say that he was a strong-headed, 
 wrong-headed man ; and that in such men 
 you always found the stronger the head, the 
 wronger the opinions ; and the more wrongly 
 their opinions were taken up, the more 
 strongly they were persisted in. 
 
 Toplady after some whimsical calculations 
 concerning the national debt, proceeds to a 
 " spiritual improvement" of the subject. 
 He asserts that because " we never come up 
 to that holiness which God requires, we 
 commit a sin every second of our existence," 
 and in this view of the matter, he says, our 
 dreadful account stands as follows. At ten 
 years old each of us is chargeable with 
 315,036,000 sins; and summing up the 
 account at every intermediate stage of ten 
 years, he makes the man of fourscore debtor 
 for 2,5 10,288,000. 
 
 In Toplady's creed there were no venial 
 sins, any more than in Sir George Mac- 
 kenzie's, who used this impious argument 
 for the immortality of the soul, that it must 
 needs be immortal because the smallest sin, 
 M the least peccadillo against the Almighty 
 who is Infinite cannot be proportionably 
 punished in the swift glass of man's short 
 life." 
 
 And this man, said the Doctor, laying his 
 finger upon Toplady's book, thinks himself 
 a Christian, and reads the Bible and believes 
 it ! He prints and vouches for the au- 
 thenticity of a painter's bill at Cirencester 
 delivered in to the Churchwarden of an 
 adjacent parish in these words : Mr. 
 Charles Ferebee, Churchwarden of Sid- 
 dington, to Joseph Cook, Debtor : To 
 mending the Commandments, altering the 
 Belief, and making a new Lord's Prayer, 
 1 Is. 
 
 The Painter made no such alteration in 
 the Christian creed, as he himself did, when 
 he added to it, that the Almighty has pre- 
 
 destined the infinitely greater number of his 
 creatures to eternal misery ! 
 
 "God," says good old Adam Littleton, 
 "made no man purposely to damn him. Death 
 was one of man's own inventions, and will be 
 the reward of his evil actions." 
 
 The Roman Catholics have a legend from 
 which we may see what proportion of the 
 human race they suppose to be redeemed 
 from perdition ; it relates that on the day of 
 St. Bernard's death there died threescore 
 thousand persons, of whom only four souls 
 were saved, the Saint's being one; the 
 salvage therefore is one in fifteen thousand ! 
 
 But one legend may be set against another, 
 and Felix Faber the Monk of Ulm gives 
 us one of better import, when he relates 
 the story of a lovely child who in her twelfth 
 year was stricken with the plague, during 
 the great pestilence, which, in the middle of 
 the fourteenth century, swept off a greater 
 portion of the human race than is ever known 
 to have perished in any similar visitation. As 
 the disease increased upon her, she became 
 more beautiful and more cheerful, looking 
 continually upward and rejoicing ; for she 
 said she saw that Heaven was open, and 
 innumerable lights flowing upward thither, 
 as in a stream, which were the souls of 
 the elect, ascending as they were released. 
 When they who stood beside her bed were 
 silent and seemed as if they gave no credit 
 to her words, she told them that what she 
 saw was no delusion, and added in token of 
 its sure truth, that her own death would 
 take place that night, and her father die on 
 the third day following : she then pointed 
 to seven persons, foretelling to each the day 
 of their decease, and named some others 
 who were not present, who would, in like 
 manner, be cut off by the plague, saying at 
 what time each of them would expire ; and 
 in every instance, according to the legend, 
 the prediction was punctually fulfilled. This 
 ia a tale which may in all its parts be true ; 
 for such predictions at such a time, when 
 whole cities were almost depopulated by the 
 pestilence, were likely not only to be veri- 
 fied, but in a great degree to bring about 
 their own verification ; and the state of her
 
 408 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 mind would lead to her interpretation of 
 those ocular spectra which were probably 
 effects of the disease, without supposing it 
 to be a happy delirium, heightening her ex- 
 pectation of that bliss which faith had assured 
 to her, and into which her innocent spirit 
 was about to enter. 
 
 Had the story been fabricated it would 
 not have been of so humane a character. 
 The Roman Catholics, as is well known, 
 believe that all who are not of what they 
 please to call the Holy, Roman, Catholic and 
 Apostolic Church, are doomed to everlasting 
 perdition ; this doctrine is part of the creed 
 which their laity profess, and to which their 
 clergy swear. If any member of that Church 
 reject an opinion so uncharitable in itself, 
 and in its consequences so infinitely mis- 
 chievous, he may be a Roman Catholic by 
 his connections, by courtesy, by policy, or 
 by fear ; but he is not so in reality, for he 
 refuses to believe in the infallibility of his 
 Church, which has on no point declared itself 
 more peremptorily than upon this. All other 
 Christians of every persuasion, all Jews, all 
 Mahometans, and all Heathens are goats ; 
 only the Romanists are the Sheep of God's 
 pasture, and the Inquisitors, we may sup- 
 pose, his Lambs ! Of this their own flock 
 they hold that one half are lost sheep : though 
 a liberal opinion, it is esteemed the most 
 probable one upon that subject, and the best 
 founded, because it is written that one shall 
 be taken and one left, and that of the ten 
 virgins who went with their lamps to meet 
 the bridegroom, five were wise, and five 
 foolish. 
 
 An eloquent Jesuit preaching before the 
 Court in his own country stated this opinion, 
 and made an application from it to his 
 hearers with characteristic integrity and 
 force. " According to this doctrine," said 
 he, " which is held by many Saints, (and is 
 not the most straitened, but a large and 
 favourable one,) if I were this day preaching 
 before another auditory, I should say that 
 half of those who heard me belonged to the 
 right hand, and half unto the left. Truly a 
 most wonderful and tremendous considera- 
 tion, that of Christians and Catholics, en- 
 
 lightened with the faith, bred up with the 
 milk of the Church, and assisted by so many 
 sacraments and aids, half only should be 
 saved ! That of ten men who believe in 
 Christ, and for whom Christ died, five should 
 perish ! That of an hundred fifty should be 
 condemned ! That of a thousand five 
 hundred go to burn eternally in Hell ! who 
 is there that does not tremble at the 
 thought ? But if we look at the little Chris- 
 tianity and the little fear of God with which 
 men live, we ought rather to give thanks to 
 the Divine Mercy, than to be astonished at 
 this justice. 
 
 "This is what I should say if I were 
 preaching before a different audience. But 
 because to-day is a day of undeceiving," 
 (it was the first Sunday in Advent,) 
 " and the present Auditory is what it is, let 
 not those who hear me think or persuade 
 themselves, that this is a general rule for all, 
 even although they may be or call them- 
 selves Catholics. As in this life there is a 
 wide difference between the great and 
 powerful and those who are not so, so will it 
 be in the Day of Judgement. They are on 
 the right hand to-day, but as the world will 
 then have had so great a turn, it is much to 
 be feared that many of them will then be on 
 the left. Of others half are to be saved, and 
 of the great and powerful, how many? 
 Will there be a third part saved? Will 
 there be a tenth ? I shall only say (and 
 would not venture to say it, unless it were 
 the expressed oracle and infallible sentence 
 of supreme Truth,) I shall only say that 
 they will be very few, and those by great 
 wonder. Let the great and mighty listen, 
 not to any other than the Lord himself in 
 the Book of Wisdom. Prcebite aurem vos 
 qui continetis multitudinem, quoniam data est 
 a Domino potestas vobis. ' Give ear ye that 
 rule the people, for power is given you of 
 the Lord.' Ye princes, ye ministers who 
 have the people under your command, ye to 
 whom the Lord hath given this power to 
 rule and govern the commonwealth, prtsbite 
 aurem, give ear to me ! And what have 
 they to hear from God who give ear so ill to 
 men ? A proclamation of the Day of Judge-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 409 
 
 nient far more portentous and terrible than 
 that which has to summon the dead ! Ju- 
 dicium durissimum his qui prcesunt Jiet; 
 exiguo enim conceditur misericordia ; potentes 
 autem potenter tormenta patientur : A sharp 
 judgement shall be to them that be in high 
 places. For mercy will pardon the mean ; 
 but mighty men shall be mightily tormented. 
 The Judgement with which God will judge 
 those who rule and govern is to be a sharp 
 Judgement, because mercy will be granted 
 to the mean; but the mighty shall be 
 mightily tormented, potentes potenter tormenta 
 patientur. See here in what that power is 
 to end which is so greatly desired, which is 
 so panted after, which is so highly esteemed, 
 which is so much envied ! The mighty fear 
 no other power now, because the power is in 
 their own hands, but when the sharp Judge- 
 ment comes they will then see whose Power 
 is greater than theirs ; potentes potenter 
 patientur" 
 
 This was a discourse which might have 
 made Felix tremble. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXni. 
 
 AN OPINION OP EL VENERABLE PADRE 
 MAESTRO FRAY LUIS DE GRANADA, AND 
 A PASSAGE QUOTED FROM HIS WORKS, 
 BECAUSE OF THE PECULIAR BENEFIT TO 
 WHICH PERSONS OF A CERTAIN DENOMI- 
 NATION WILL FIND THEMSELVES ENTITLED 
 UPON BEADING OR HEARING IT READ. 
 
 Chacun tourne en realties, 
 Autant qu'il pent, let propret songet ; 
 
 L'hamme est de glace aia eerites, 
 II est defeu pour let mensonges. 
 
 L4 FONTAINE. 
 
 THE translated extract in the preceding 
 Chapter from the most eloquent of the 
 Portuguese preachers, el mismissimo Vieyra, 
 en su mesma mesmedad, as he is called in 
 Fray Gerundio, brings to my mind the most 
 eloquent and the most popular of the Spanish 
 divines, P. M. Luis de Granada. He held 
 an opinion wherein, (as will appear hereafter,) 
 the Philosopher of Doncaster did not agree 
 with him, that everything under the sky 
 
 was created for man directly or indirectly, 
 either for his own use, or for the use of 
 those creatures which minister to it ; for, 
 says the Spaniard, if he does not eat mosqui- 
 toes he eats the birds that eat them ; if he 
 does not eat the grass of the field, the cattle 
 graze there that are necessary for his use. 
 
 I have a very particular reason for giving 
 the famous and Venerable Dominican's 
 opinion in his own words. 
 
 Todo quanta ay debaxo del Cielo, 6 es para 
 el hombre, 6 para cosas de que se ha de servir 
 el hombre ; porque si el no come el mosquito 
 que buela por el ayre, come lo el pajaro de que 
 el se mantiene ; y si el no pace la yerva del 
 campo, pacela el ganado, de que el tiene 
 necessidad. 
 
 My reason for transcribing this sentence 
 in its original language, is that by so doing I 
 might confer a great act of kindness upon 
 every Roman Catholic who reads the present 
 Chapter. For be it known unto every such 
 reader, that by perusing it, he becomes 
 entitled to an indulgence of an hundred 
 days, granted by D. Pasqual Aragon, Car- 
 dinal by the Title of Santa Balbina, and 
 Archbishop of Toledo ; and moreover to 
 eighteen several indulgences of forty days 
 each, granted by eighteen most illustrious 
 and most reverend Lords Archbishops and 
 Bishops ; such indulgences having been pro- 
 claimed, para los que leyeren, 6 oyeren leer 
 qualquier capitulo,parrafo, dperiodo de lo que 
 escrivio el dicho V. P. M. Fray Luis de 
 Granada. 
 
 It might be a question for the casuists 
 whether a good papist reading the paragraph 
 here presented to him, and not assenting to 
 the opinion expressed therein, would be 
 entitled to this discount of eight hundred 
 and twenty days from his time due in 
 Purgatory. But if he accords with the 
 Venerable Dominican, he can no more doubt 
 his own right to participate in the Episcopal 
 and Archiepiscopal grants, than he can call 
 in question the validity of the grants them- 
 selves.
 
 410 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXTV. 
 
 AN INQUIRY, IN THE POULTRY-YARD, INTO 
 THE TRUTH OF AN OPINION EXPRESSED 
 BY ARISTOTLE. 
 
 This is some liquor poured out of his bottle ; 
 A deadly draught for those of Aristotle. 
 
 J. C. sometime of M. H. Oxon. 
 
 ARISTOTLE was of opinion that those animals 
 which have been tamed, or are capable of 
 being so, are of a better nature, or higher 
 grade, than wild ones, and that it is advan- 
 tageous for them that they should be brought 
 into subjection by man, because under his 
 protection they are safe. 
 
 Tie, IMI yi{ 
 il tran /3i'XT< 
 
 Our Philosopher was not better disposed to 
 agree with Aristotle upon this point, than 
 with the more commonly received notion of 
 Father Luis de Granada. He thought that 
 unless men were more humane in the days of 
 Alexander the Great than they are now, 
 and than they have been in all times of 
 which we have any knowledge, the Stagyrite 
 must have stated what ought to be, rather 
 than what is. 
 
 So our Philosopher thought ; and so I, 
 faithfully retaining the lessons of my beloved 
 Master, am prepared to prove. I will go no 
 farther than to the Poultry Yard, and bor- 
 rowing the names of the Dramatis Personae 
 from a nursery story, one of his Uncle 
 William's, which has been told with the 
 greatest possible success to all my children 
 in succession, as it was to me, and their 
 Uncles and Aunts before them, I will ques- 
 tion the Poultry upon the subject, and 
 faithfully report their evidence. 
 
 Voi ch' avete gf intelletti lani 
 Mirate la dottrina che s'asconde 
 Sotto queste coperte alle e profonde.* 
 
 " Chick-pick, Chick -pick, which is best for 
 you ; to be a wild Chick-pick, or to live, as 
 you are living, under the protection, and 
 care, and regular government of Man ? " 
 
 ORLANDO INNAMORATO. 
 
 Chick-pick answers and says, " Nature 
 provides for my support quite as abundantly 
 and as surely as you can do, and more 
 wisely; you do not make my life happier or 
 more secure while it lasts, and you shorten 
 it ; I have nothing to thank you for." 
 
 " Hen-pen, Hen-pen, which is best for 
 you ; to be a wild Hen-pen, or to live as you 
 are living, under the protection, and care, 
 and regular government of Man ? " 
 
 Hen-pen answers and says : " Had I been 
 bred up as my mother if she had been a 
 wild Hen-pen would have bred me, I should 
 have had the free use of my wings. I have 
 nothing to thank you for ! You take my 
 eggs. Sometimes you make me hatch in 
 their stead a little unnatural brood who run 
 into the water, in spite of all my fears and 
 of all that I can do to prevent them. You 
 afford me protection when you can from 
 foumarts and foxes ; and you assist me in 
 protecting my chicken from the kite, and 
 the hawk, but this is that you may keep them 
 for your own eating ; you fatten them in 
 coops, and then comes the Cook ! " 
 
 " Cock-lock which is best for you ; to be a 
 wild Cook-lock, or to live as you are living, 
 under the protection, and care, and regular 
 government of Man ? " 
 
 Cock-lock answers and says, " Is there a 
 man impudent enough to ask me the ques- 
 tion ! You squailf at us on Shrove Tuesday; 
 you feed us with Cock-bread, and arm us 
 with steel spurs, that we may mangle and 
 kill each other for your sport ; you build 
 cock-pits ; you make us fight Welsh mains, 
 and give subscription cups to the winner. 
 And what would that Cock-lock say, who 
 was a Cock-lock till you made him a Capon- 
 lapon ! " 
 
 "Duck-luck, Duck-luck, which is best 
 for you, to be a wild Duck-luck, or to live 
 as you are living under the protection, and 
 care, and regular government of Man ? " 
 
 Duck-luck answers and says, "I was 
 created to be one of the most privileged of 
 God's creatures, born to the free enjoyment 
 
 t SQUAII : " To throw a stick, as at a cock." Grose's 
 Provincial Glossary.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 411 
 
 of three elements. My wings were to bear 
 me whither I would thro' the sky, as change 
 of season required change of climate for my 
 well being ; the waters were to afford me 
 pastime and food, the earth repose and 
 shelter. No bird more joyous, more active, 
 more clean or more delighting in cleanliness 
 than I should be, if the society of man had 
 not corrupted my instincts. Under your 
 regular government my wings are rendered 
 useless to me ; I waddle about the miserable 
 precincts to which I am confined, and dabble 
 in the dirt and grope for garbage in your 
 gutters. And see there are green peas in the 
 garden ! " 
 
 " Turkey-lurkey, Turkey-lurkey, which is 
 best for you ; to be a wild Turkey-lurkey, 
 or to live as you are living, under the pro- 
 tection and care, and regular government 
 of Man ? " 
 
 Turkey-lurkey answers and says, " You 
 cram us as if to show that there may be as 
 much cruelty exercised in giving food as in 
 withholding it. Look at the Norwich 
 coaches for a week before Christmas ! Can 
 we think of them, think you ? without wish- 
 ing ourselves in the woods like our blessed 
 ancestors, where chine, sausages and oyster- 
 sauce are abominations which never have 
 been heard of!" Sir Turkey-lurkey then 
 shook and ruffled and reddened the collops 
 of his neck, and gobbled out his curses upon 
 man. 
 
 " Goosey-loosey, Goosey-loosey, which is 
 best for you ; to be a wild Goosey-loosey, 
 or to live as you are living, under the pro- 
 tection, and care, and regular government of 
 Man?" 
 
 Goosey-loosey answers and says, " It is 
 not for any kindness to us that you turn us 
 into your stubbles. You pluck us that you 
 may lie the softer upon our feathers. You 
 pull our quills that you may make pens of 
 them. O St. Michael, what havoc is com- 
 mitted amongst us under the sanction of 
 your arch- angelic name ! And O Satan ! 
 what punishment wilt thou exact from those 
 inhuman wretches who keep us in a state of 
 continual suffering in order to induce a 
 disease by which our livers may be enlarged 
 
 for the gratification of wicked epicures ! 
 We might curse man for all that we know 
 of his protection, and care, and regular go- 
 vernment ; but" 
 
 " BUT ! " said Goosey-loosey, and lifting up 
 her wings significantly she repeated a third 
 time that word "Bur ! " and with a toss of the 
 head and a twist of the snaky neck which at 
 once indicated indignation and triumph, 
 turned away with all the dignity that Goose- 
 nature could express. 
 
 I understood the meaning of that But. 
 
 It was not one of those dreaded, ominous, 
 restrictive, qualifying, nullifying or nega- 
 tiving Buts of which Daniel, the tenderest 
 of all tender poets, says, 
 
 Ah ! now comes that bitter word of But, 
 
 Which makes all nothing that was said before ! 
 
 That smoothes and wounds, that strokes and dashes more 
 
 Than flat denial, or a plain disgrace. 
 
 It was not one of those heart-withering, joy- 
 killing, and hope-annihilating Buts. It was 
 a minatory But, full of meaning as ever 
 Brewer's Butt was full of beer. 
 
 However, I will not broach that But in 
 this Chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXV. 
 
 A QUESTION ASKED AND RIGHTLY ANSWERED, 
 WITH NOTICES OF A GREAT IMPORTATION 
 ANNOUNCED IN THE LEITH COMMERCIAL 
 IJST. 
 
 " But tell me yet what followed on that But." 
 
 DANIEL. 
 
 GREAT, Reader, are the mysteries of Gram- 
 marians ! Dr. Johnson considered But as 
 only a Conjunction, whereas, says Mr. Todd, 
 it is in a fact a Conjunction, Preposition, 
 Adverb and Interjection, as Dr. Adam 
 Smith long since ingeniously proved. With 
 Home Tooke it is a verb to boot, being ac- 
 cording to him the imperative of the Saxon 
 beon-ucan, to be out; but in this Mr. Todd 
 supposes him to be out himself. And Noah 
 Webster says it is also a Participle and a 
 Noun. Pity that some one has not proved 
 it to be a Pronoun ; for then it would have 
 belonged to all the eight parts of speech.
 
 412 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Great are the mysteries of Grammarians ! 
 
 O Reader, had you in your mind 
 Such stores as subtlety can bring, 
 
 O gentle Reader, you would find 
 A mystery in every thing. 
 
 For once, dear Reader, I who pride myself 
 upon lucid order of arrangement, and per- 
 spicuity of language, instead of making, 
 which I have heretofore done, and shall 
 hereafter do, the train of my associations as 
 visible as the tract of a hare in the dewy 
 grass or in the snow, will let it be as little 
 apparent as that of a bird in the air, or a 
 serpent on a rock ; or as Walter Landor in 
 his poems, or his brother Robert's, whose 
 poetry has the true Landorean obscurity, as 
 well as the Landorean strength of diction and 
 the Landorean truth and beauty of feeling 
 and of thought : perhaps there is no other 
 instance of so strongly marked an intellectual 
 family likeness. 
 
 Thus having premised, I propound the 
 following question : Of all the Birds in the 
 air, and all the beasts in the field, and all 
 the fishes in the sea, and all the creatures of 
 inferior kind, who pass their lives wholly, or 
 in part, according to their different stages of 
 existence, in air, earth or water, what crea- 
 ture has produced directly or indirectly the 
 most effect upon mankind ? That, which 
 you, Reader, will deserve to be called, if you 
 do not, after a minute's reflection, answer 
 the question rightly. 
 
 The Goose ! 
 
 Now, Reader, you have hit the But. 
 
 Among the imports in the Leith Com- 
 mercial List, for June 1830, is an entry of 
 1,820,000 goose quills, brought by the Anne 
 from Riga, for Messrs. Alexander Duncan 
 and Son of Edinburgh. 
 
 One million, eight hundred and twenty 
 thousand goose quills ! The number will 
 present itself more adequately to thy ima- 
 gination when it is thus expressed in words. 
 
 O Reader, consider in thy capacious mind 
 the good and the evil in which that million, 
 eight hundred and twenty thousand quills 
 will be concerned ! 
 
 Take notice that the whole quantity is of 
 foreign growth that they are all imported 
 quills, and so far from being all that were 
 
 imported, that they were brought by one 
 ship, and for only one house. Geese enough 
 are not bred in Great Britain for supplying 
 pens to schools, counters, public offices, 
 private families, authors, and last not least 
 in their consumption of this article, young 
 ladies, though they call in the crow-quills 
 to their aid. Think of the Lawyers, Reader ! 
 and thou wilt then acknowledge that even if 
 we were not living at this time under a 
 government of Newspapers, the Goose is 
 amply revenged upon mankind. 
 
 And now you understand Goosey-loosey's 
 BUT. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXVI. 
 
 A WISH CONCERNING WHALES, WITH SOME 
 REMARKS UPON THEIR PLACE IN PHYSICAL 
 AND MORAL CLASSIFICATION. DOCTOR 
 ABRAHAM REES. CAPTAIN SCORESBY. THE 
 WHALE FISHERY. 
 
 Your Whale he will swallow a hogshead for a pill ; 
 But the maker of the mouse-trap is he that hath skill. 
 
 BEN JONSON. 
 
 WHEN gas-lights came into general use, I 
 entertained a hope that Whales would no 
 longer be slaughtered for the sake of their 
 oil. The foolishness of such a hope may be 
 excused for its humanity. 
 
 I will excuse you Reader, if in most cases 
 you distrust that word humanity. But you 
 are not to be excused if you suspect me of 
 its counterfeit, that mock humanity which is 
 one characteristic of this dishonourable and 
 dishonest age. I say you are not to be ex- 
 cused, if being so far acquainted as by this 
 time you must be with the philosophy of the 
 Doctor, you suspect me his faithful and 
 dutiful disciple of this pitiful affectation. 
 
 How the thought concerning Whales came 
 just now into my mind will be seen when 
 its application shall in due course be made 
 apparent. Where I am is always well known 
 to myself, though every Reader may not 
 always discover my whereabout. And before 
 the thought can be applied I must show upon 
 what our Philosopher's opinions concerning 
 Whales, or fancies if you think proper so to 
 call them, were founded; mine upon this
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 413 
 
 and most other matters, having been as I 
 gratefully acknowledge, derived from him. 
 
 Linnaeus in his classification, as is well 
 known, arranges Whales with Quadrupeds, 
 an arrangement at which Uncle Toby, if he 
 had been told of it, would have whistled 
 Lilli-bullero, and the Doctor if he had not 
 been a man of science himself, would have 
 sung 
 
 Fa la la lerridan 
 Dan dan dan derridan 
 Dan dan dan derridan 
 Derridan dee. 
 
 But Uncle Toby never could have been told 
 of it, because he good man died before Lin- 
 naeus dreamt of forming a system ; and 
 Doctor Dove was a man of science, so that 
 Lilli-bullero was never whistled upon this 
 occasion, nor Dan dan dan derridan sung. 
 
 Whistle the one, Reader, or sing the other, 
 which you will, or if you will, do both; when 
 you hear that in Dr. Rees's Cyclopaedia it is 
 said, " the Whale has no other claim to a 
 place among fishes, than from its fish-like 
 appearance and its living in the water." The 
 Whale has its place among them, whatever 
 the Cyclopsedists may think of its claim, and 
 will never have it any where else ; and so 
 very like a fish it is, so strongly in the 
 odour of fishiness, which is a good odour if 
 it be not too strong, that if the Green- 
 landers had been converted by the Jesuits 
 instead of the Moravians, the strictest disci- 
 plinarian of that order would without doubt 
 have allowed his converts to eat Whale upon 
 fish days. 
 
 But whether Whale be fish or flesh, or if 
 makers of system should be pleased to make 
 it fowl, (for as it is like a Quadruped except 
 that it has no feet, and cannot live upon 
 land, so it may be like a bird, except that it 
 has neither legs, wings, nor feathers, and 
 cannot live in the air,) wherever naturalists 
 may arrange it, its local habitation is among 
 fishes, and fish in common language it always 
 will be called. This whole question matters 
 not to our present purpose. Our Philoso- 
 pher had regard to its place in the scale of 
 existence, a scale which he graduated not 
 according to size, (tho* that also must 
 sometimes be taken into the account,) nor 
 
 "by intellect, which is yet of greater considera- 
 tion, but according to those affections or 
 moral feelings, which, little acquainted as we 
 are with the nature of the lower creatures, 
 are in many instances too evident to be called 
 in question. 
 
 Now in this respect no other creature in 
 the water ranks so high as the Whale. 
 
 The affection of the parent for its young is 
 both in itself and its consequences purely 
 good, however those men seek to degrade it 
 who ascribe all feelings, and all virtuous 
 emotions, whether in man or beast, to self- 
 ishness, being themselves conscious that 
 they have no worthier motive for any of 
 their own actions.* Martin Luther says 
 that the Hebrew word which we translate 
 by curse, carries not with it in the original 
 language so strong a meaning as is given to 
 it in his mother tongue, consequently in 
 ours. The Hebrew imprecation, he says, 
 imports no more than " ill betide thee ! " 
 intending by ill temporal misfortune, or 
 punishment, the proper reward of ill deeds ; 
 not what is implied by cursing in its dread- 
 ful acceptation. A curse, then, in the Hebrew 
 sense, be upon those who maintain this 
 sensual, and sensualising opinion ; an opinion 
 of which it is the sure effect to make bad 
 men worse, and the folly and falsehood of 
 which birds and beasts might teach them, 
 were it not that because their hearts are 
 gross, seeing they see not, and hearing they 
 hear not, neither do they understand. 
 
 The Philosopher of Doncaster affirmed 
 that virtue as well as reason might be clearly 
 perceived in the inferior creation, and that 
 their parental affection was proof of it. The 
 longer the continuance of this affection in 
 any species the higher he was disposed to 
 place that species in the scale of animated life. 
 This continuance bears no relation to their 
 size in birds, and little in quadrupeds ; but 
 in the whale it seems to be somewhat more 
 proportionate, the young depending upon 
 
 " They who affirm all natural acts declare 
 
 Self-love to be the ruler of the mind, 
 Judge from their own mean hearts, and foully 
 wrong mankind." 
 
 A Talc of Paraguay, canto ii. 13.
 
 414 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 the mother more than twelve months cer- 
 tainly, how much longer has not been 
 ascertained. And so strong is the maternal 
 affection that it is a common practice among 
 whalers to harpoon the cub as a means of 
 taking the mother ; for this creature, altho' 
 harmless and timid at all other times, totally 
 disregards danger when its young is to be 
 defended, gives every possible indication of 
 extreme agony for its young's sake, and 
 suffers itself to be killed without attempting 
 to escape. The mighty Ceticide Captain 
 Scoresby describes a most affecting instance 
 of this. " There is something," he observes, 
 " extremely painful in the destruction of a 
 whale, when thus evincing a degree of 
 affectionate regard for its offspring, that 
 would do honour to the superior intelligence 
 of human nature; yet," he adds, " the object 
 of the adventure, the value of the prize, the 
 joy of the capture, cannot be sacrificed to 
 feelings of compassion." That conclusion, if 
 it were pursued to its legitimate con- 
 sequences, would lead farther than Captain 
 Scoresby would follow it ! 
 
 The whale fishery has indeed been an 
 object of almost portentous importance ac- 
 cording to the statements made by this well- 
 informed and very able writer. That on 
 the coast of Greenland proved, he says, in a 
 short time the most lucrative and the most 
 important branch of national commerce that 
 had ever been offered to the industry of 
 man. The net profits which the Dutch 
 derived from the Greenland fishery during 
 an hundred and seven years are stated at 
 more than 20 millions sterling. 
 
 The class of Captains and seamen, em- 
 ployed in the southern whale-fishery, says a 
 person engaged in that business himself, are 
 quite different from any other. Lads taken 
 from the streets without shoes and stockings, 
 become many of them masters of ships and 
 men of very large property. " There was 
 an instance, a short time ago, of one dying 
 worth ^60,000 ; and I can point out twenty 
 instances of persons worth 7 or 8, or 
 .10,000 who have risen, without any pa- 
 tronage whatever, by their own exertions. 
 It does not require any patronage to get on 
 
 in the fishery." Such is the statement of 
 one who was examined before a Committee 
 of the House of Commons in 1833, upon the 
 state of Manufactures, Commerce and Ship- 
 ping. 
 
 In a pamphlet written about the middle 
 of the last century to recommend the pro- 
 secution of this trade, is was stated that the 
 whale-fishery is of the nature of a lottery, 
 where tho' the adventurers are certain losers 
 on the whole, some are very great gainers ; 
 and this, it was argued, instead of being a 
 discouragement, was in fact the most powerful 
 motive by which men were induced to engage 
 in it. 
 
 If indeed the pleasure of gambling be in 
 proportion to the stake, as those miserable 
 and despicable persons who are addicted to 
 that vice seem to think it is ; and if the 
 pleasure which men take in field sports be 
 in proportion to the excitement which the 
 pursuit calls forth, whaling must be in both 
 respects the most stimulating of all maritime 
 adventures. One day's sport in which 
 Captain Scoresby took three whales, pro- 
 duced a return of ,=2,100, and several years 
 before he retired from this calling he had 
 been personally concerned in the capture of 
 three hundred and twenty-two. And his 
 father in twenty-eight voyages, in which he 
 commanded a ship, brought home 498 whales, 
 producing 4246 tons of oil, the value of 
 which, with that of the whale-bone, exceeded 
 ,=150,000, "all fished for under his own 
 direction out of the sea." 
 
 The whale fishery is even of more im- 
 portance as a nursery for seamen, for of all 
 naval services it is the most severe ; and this 
 thorough seaman describes the excitement 
 and the enjoyment of a whaler's life as being 
 in proportion to the danger. " The dif- 
 ficulties and intricacies of the situation, 
 when the vessel is to be forced through 
 masses of drift ice, afford exercise," he says, 
 " for the highest possible exertion of nautical 
 skill, and are capable of yielding to the 
 person who has the management of a ship a 
 degree of enjoyment, which it would be 
 difficult for navigators accustomed to mere 
 common-place operations duly to appreciate.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 415 
 
 The ordinary management of a ship, under 
 a strong gale, and with great velocity, ex- 
 hibits evolutions of considerable elegance; 
 but these cannot be compared with the 
 navigation in the intricacies of floating ice, 
 where the evolutions are frequent, and per- 
 petually varying ; where manoeuvres are to 
 be accomplished, that extend to the very 
 limits of possibility ; and where a degree of 
 hazard attaches to some of the operations, 
 which would render a mistake of the helm, 
 or a miscalculation of the powers of a 
 ship, irremediate and destructive." How 
 wonderful a creature is man, that the sense 
 of power should thus seem to constitute his 
 highest animal enjoyment ! 
 
 In proportion to the excitement of such 
 a life, Captain Scoresby describes its religious 
 tendency upon a well disposed mind, and 
 this certainly has been exemplified in his 
 own person. " Perhaps there is no situation 
 in life," he says, "in which an habitual 
 reliance upon Providence, and a well founded 
 dependance on the Divine protection and 
 support, is of such sensible value as it is 
 found to be by those employed in seafaring 
 occupations, and especially in the fishery for 
 whales. These are exposed to a great 
 variety of dangers, many of which they must 
 voluntarily face; and the success of their 
 exertions depends on a variety of causes, 
 over many of which they have no controul. 
 The anxiety arising from both these causes 
 is greatly repressed, and often altogether 
 subdued, when, convinced of the infallibility 
 and universality of Providence by the in- 
 ternal power of religion, we are enabled to 
 commit all our ways unto God, and to look 
 for his blessing as essential to our safety, 
 and as necessary for our success." 
 
 John Xewton of Olney has in his narrative 
 of his own remarkable life, a passage that 
 entirely accords with these remarks of 
 Captain Scoresby, and which is in like 
 manner the result of experience. '> A sea- 
 faring life," he says, " is necessarily excluded 
 from the benefit of public ordinances, and 
 Christian communion. In other respects, I 
 know not any calling that seems more 
 favourable, or affords greater advantages to 
 
 an awakened mind, for promoting the life of 
 God in the soul, especially to a person who 
 has the command of a ship, and thereby has 
 it in his power to restrain gross irregularities 
 in others, and to dispose of his own time. 
 To be at sea in these circumstances, with- 
 drawn out of the reach of innumerable 
 temptations, with opportunity and a turn of 
 mind disposed to observe the wonders of 
 God, in the great deep, with the two noblest 
 objects of sight, the expanded heavens and 
 the expanded ocean, continually in view ; 
 and where evident interpositions of Divine 
 Providence in answer to prayer occur almost 
 everyday; these are helps to quicken and 
 confirm the life of faith, which in a good 
 measure supply to a religious sailor the 
 want of those advantages which can be 
 only enjoyed upon the shore. And indeed 
 though my knowledge of spiritual things (as 
 knowledge is usually estimated) was at this 
 time very small, yet I sometimes look back 
 with regret upon those scenes. I never 
 knew sweeter or more frequent hours of 
 divine communion than in my two last 
 voyages to Guinea, when I was either almost 
 secluded from society on ship-board, or 
 when on shore among the natives." 
 
 What follows is so beautiful (except the 
 extravagant condemnation of a passionate 
 tenderness which he, of all men, should have 
 been the last to condemn) that the passage, 
 though it has set us ashore, must be con- 
 tinued a little farther. " I have wandered," 
 he proceeds, " thro' the woods, reflecting on 
 the singular goodness of the Lord to me in 
 a place where, perhaps, there was not a 
 person who knew him, for some thousand 
 miles round me. Many a time upon these 
 occasions I have restored the beautiful lines 
 of Tibullus * to the right owner ; lines full 
 of blasphemy and madness, when addressed 
 to a creature, but full of comfort and pro- 
 priety in the mouth of a believer. 
 
 Sic ego deiertit possum bene vivere sylvii, 
 Qua nulla finmano sit via trita peile. 
 
 TV mihi curarum rcquics, in node vet atra 
 Lumen, el in toll's tu mihi turba locis. 
 
 * Mr. Newton, by an easy slip of the memory, ha 
 ascribed the lines to Propertius. R. S.
 
 416 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXVIL 
 
 A MOTTO WHICH IS WELL CHOSEN BECAUSE 
 NOT BEING APPLICABLE IT SEEMS TO BE 
 SO. THE AUTHOR NOT EKRANT HERE OR 
 ELSEWHERE. PHILOSOPHY AND OTHER- 
 OSOPHIES. 
 
 Much from my theme and friend have I digressed, 
 But poor as I am, poor in stuff Tor thought, 
 
 And poor in thought to miike of it the best, 
 Blame me not. Gentles, if I soon am caught 
 
 By this or that, when as my theme suggest 
 Aught of collateral aid which may be wrought 
 
 Into its service : Blame me not, I say : 
 
 The idly musing often miss their way. 
 
 CHARLES LLOYD. 
 
 THE pleasing pensive stanza, which thou, 
 gentle Reader, hast just perused, is prefixed 
 to this Chapter because it would be so feli- 
 citous a motto, if only it were applicable ; 
 and for that very reason it is felicitous, its 
 non-applicability furnishing a means of happy 
 application. 
 
 IL y a du bonheur et de t esprit a employer 
 les paroles (Tun poete a une chose d quay le 
 poete ne pense jamais, et d les employer si d 
 propos qu'elles semblent avoir este faites 
 expres pour le sujet auquel elles sont appli- 
 
 " Good Sir, you understand not ;" yet I 
 am not saying with the Pedagogue at the 
 
 Ordinary, 
 
 Let's keep them 
 
 In desperate hope of understanding us ; 
 Riddles and clouds are very lights of speech. 
 I'll veil my careless anxious thoughts as 'twere 
 In a perspicuous cloud, that so 1 may 
 Whisper in a loud voice, and even be silent 
 When I do utter words. f 
 
 Here, as everywhere, my intention is to be 
 perfectly intelligible; I have not digressed 
 either from my theme or friend ; I am 
 neither poor in stuff for thought, nor in 
 thought for working ; nor, (if I may be per- 
 mitted so to say) in skill for manipulating it. 
 I have not been idly musing, nor have I 
 missed my road, but. have kept the track 
 faithfully, and not departed from the way in 
 which I was trained up. All that I have 
 been saying belongs to, and is derived from 
 the philosophy of my friend : yes, gentle 
 Reader, all that is set before thee in these 
 well stored volumes. Una est enim philoso- 
 
 * P. BOUHOURS. 
 
 t CARTWRIGHT. 
 
 phia, quascumque in oras disputationis rc- 
 gionesve delata est. Nam sive de cceli natura 
 loquitur, sive de terra, sive de divind vi, sive 
 de humand, sive ex inferiore loco, sive ex 
 cequo, sive ex superiore, sive ut impettat 
 homines, sive ut doceat, sive ut deterreat, sive 
 ut concitet, sive ut incendat, sive ut reflected, 
 sive ut leniat, sive ad paucos, sive ad inultos, 
 sive inter alienos, sive cum suis, sive secum, 
 rivis est deducta philosophia, nonfontibus. 
 
 We speak of the philosophy of the Porch, 
 and of the Grove, and of the Sty when we 
 would express ourselves disdainfully of the 
 Epicureans. But we cannot, in like manner, 
 give to the philosophy which pervades these 
 volumes, a local habitation and a name, 
 because the philosophy of Doncaster would 
 popularly be understood to mean the philo- 
 sophy of the Duke of Grafton, the Marquis 
 of Exeter, and Mr. Gully, tho' that indeed 
 belongs not to Philosophy but to one of its 
 dialects, varieties, or corrupted forms, which 
 are many ; for example, there is Fallosophy 
 practised professionally by Advocates, and 
 exhibited in great perfection by Quacks 
 and Political Economists ; Failosophy, the 
 science of those who make bankruptcy a 
 profitable adventure ; Fellowsophy, which 
 has its habitat in common rooms at Cam- 
 bridge and Oxford ; Feelosophy common to 
 Lawyers and Physicians ; Fillyosophy well 
 understood on the turf, and nowhere better 
 than in Doncaster ; and finally the Foolo- 
 sophy of Jeremy Bentham, and of all those 
 who have said in their hearts what it 
 saddens a compassionate heart to think that 
 even the Fool should say ! 
 
 CHAPTER CLXVIII. 
 
 NE-PLUS-ULTRA-WHALE-FISHING. AN OPI- 
 NION OF CAPTAIN SCORESBT'S. THE DOC- 
 TOR DENIES THAT ALL CREATURES WERE 
 MADE FOR THE USE OF MAN. THE CON- 
 TRARY DEMONSTRATED IN PRACTICE BY 
 BELLARMINE. 
 
 Sequar quo vocas, omnOnu enim rebus omnibusque ser- 
 monibus, aliquid talutare miscendum est. SENECA. 
 
 THE hardiest of Captain Scoresby's sailors 
 would never, methinks, have ventured upon
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 417 
 
 a manner of catching the whale used by the 
 Indians in Florida, which Sir Richard Haw- 
 kins says is worthy to be considered, inas- 
 much as the barbarous people have found 
 out so great a secret, by the industry and 
 diligence of one man, to kill so great and 
 huge a monster. Let not the reader think 
 meanly of an able and judicious, as well as 
 brave, adventurous, and unfortunate man, 
 because he believed what he thus relates : 
 
 " The Indian discovering a whale, pro- 
 cureth two round billets of wood, sharpened 
 both at one end, and so binding them to- 
 gether with a cord, casteth himself with 
 them into the sea, and swimmeth towards 
 the whale. If he come to him the whale 
 escapeth not ; for he placeth himself upon 
 his neck; and altho' the whale goeth to 
 the bottom, he must of force rise pre- 
 sently to breathe, for which nature hath 
 given him two great holes in the top of his 
 head by which every time that he breatheth, 
 he spouteth out a great quantity of water ; 
 the Indian forsaketh not his hold, but riseth 
 with him, and thrusteth in a log into one of 
 his spouters, and with the other knocketh it 
 in so fas,t, that by no means the whale can 
 get it out : that fastened, at another oppor- 
 tunity, he thrusteth in the second log into 
 the other spouter, and with all the force he 
 can, keepeth it in. The whale not being 
 able to breathe swimmeth presently ashore, 
 and the Indian a cock-horse upon him ! " 
 Hawkins says that many Spaniards had 
 discoursed to him upon this subject, who 
 had been eye-witnesses of it ! 
 
 " Most other animals when attacked," 
 says Captain Scoresby, " instinctively pursue 
 a conduct which is generally the best cal- 
 culated to secure their escape ; but not so 
 the whale. Were it to remain on the sur- 
 face after being harpooned, to press steadily 
 forward in one direction, and to exert the 
 wonderful strength that it possesses ; or were 
 it to await the attacks of its enemies, and 
 repel them by well-timed flourishes of its 
 tremendous tail, it would often victoriously 
 dispute the field with man, whose strength 
 and bulk scarcely exceed a nine-hundredth 
 part of its own. But, like the rest of the 
 
 lower animals, it was designed by Him who 
 ' created great whales,' and every living 
 creature that moveth to be subject to man ; 
 and therefore when attacked by him, it 
 perishes by its simplicity." 
 
 Captain Scoresby now holds a commission 
 in the spiritual service as a fisher of men, 
 a commission which I verily believe has been 
 most properly applied for and worthily be- 
 stowed. Whether this extraordinary change 
 in life has produced any change in his 
 opinion upon this subject I know not ; or 
 whether he still thinks that whales were 
 made subject to man, in order that man 
 might slaughter them for the sake of their 
 blubber and their whalebone. 
 
 Nevertheless it was a foolish wish of mine 
 that gas-lights might supersede the use of 
 train-oil; foolish because a little foresight 
 might have made me apprehend that oil-gas 
 might supersede coal-gas; and a little re- 
 flection would have shown that tho' col- 
 lieries are much more necessary than the 
 Greenland fishery can be pretended to be, 
 far greater evil is connected with them, and 
 that this evil is without any incidental good. 
 For the Greenland fishery unquestionably 
 makes the best seamen ; and a good seaman, 
 good in the moral and religious, as well as 
 in the nautical sense of the word, is one of 
 the highest characters that this world's 
 rough discipline can produce. "Ay," says 
 an old Lieutenant, living frugally upon his 
 poor half- pay, " ay that he is, by ." 
 
 But it was not otherwise a foolish wish ; 
 for that the whale was made for the use of 
 man in any such way as the whalers take for 
 granted, I am very far from believing. 
 
 All creatures animate and inanimate, are 
 constituent parts of one great system ; and 
 so far dependent upon each other, and in a 
 certain sense each made for all. The whale 
 is a link in the chain, and the largest that 
 has yet been found, for no one has yet 
 caught a Kraken. 
 
 Cicero makes Crassus the orator commend 
 the ancient philosophy which taught that all 
 things were thus connected : Mihi quidem 
 veteres illi, majus quiddam animo complex^ 
 mvlto plus etiam vidisse viderdur, quam quan-
 
 418 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 turn nostrorum ingeniorum acies intueri potest ; 
 qui omnia hcec, qua supra et subter, unum 
 esse, et und vi atque und consensione natures 
 constricta esse dixerunL Nullum est enim 
 genus rerum quod out avulsum a ccefpris per 
 seipsum constare, aut, quo ccetera si careant, 
 vim suam atque (Bternitatem conservare possint. 
 He expresses a doubt indeed that Jiac major 
 esse ratio videtur, quant ut hominum possit 
 sensu, out cogitatione, comprehendi : and with 
 the proper reserve of such a doubt, our Philo- 
 sopher gave a qualified assent to the opinion, 
 restricting it, however, religiously to the in- 
 ferior and visible creation : but as to the 
 notion that all things were made for the 
 use of man, in the sense that vulgar men 
 believe, this he considered to be as presump- 
 tuous and as absurd as the converse of the 
 proposition which Pope puts into the mouth 
 of the pampered Goose. " The monstrous 
 faith of many made for one," might seem 
 reasonable and religious when compared 
 with such a supposition. 
 
 " Made for thy use," the Doctor would 
 say, " tyrant that thou art, and weak as thou 
 art tyrannical ! Will the unicorn be willing 
 to serve thee, or abide by thy crib ? Canst 
 thou bind him with his band in the furrow ; 
 or will he harrow the vallies after thee? 
 Canst thou draw out leviathan with an hook, 
 will he make a covenant with thee, wilt thou 
 take him for a servant! Wilt thou bind 
 him for thy maidens ? Shall thy companions 
 make a banquet of him? Shall they part 
 him among the merchants ? Made for thy 
 use, when so many may seem to have 
 been made for thy punishment and humi- 
 liation ! " 
 
 There is a use indeed in these, but few 
 men are so ready to acknowledge and act 
 upon it as Bellarmine was, who being far 
 more indulgent to musquitos and other 
 small deer than to heretics, allowed them 
 free right of pasture upon his corporal do- 
 mains. He thought they were created to 
 afford exercise for our patience, and more- 
 over that it is unjust for us to interrupt them 
 in their enjoyment here, when we consider 
 that they have no other paradise to expect. 
 Yet when the Cardinal Controversialist gave 
 
 breakfast, dinner, or supper of this kind, he 
 was far from partaking any sympathetic plea- 
 sure in the happiness which he imparted ; for 
 it is related of him that at one time he was 
 so terribly bitten d bestiolis quibusdam ne- 
 quam ac damnificis, (it is not necessary to 
 inquire of what species,) as earnestly to 
 pray that if there were any torments in Hell 
 itself so dreadful as what he was then en- 
 during, the Lord would be pleased not to 
 send him there, for he should not be able to 
 bear it. 
 
 What could the Cardinal then have 
 thought of those Convents that were said 
 to have an apartment or dungeon into which 
 the Friars every day during the warm sea- 
 son, brushed or shook the fleas from their 
 habits thro' an aperture above, (being the 
 only entrance,) and where, whenever a frail 
 brother was convicted of breaking the most 
 fragile of his vows, he was let down naked 
 and with his hands tied ! This earthly Pur- 
 gatory was called la Pulciara, that is, the 
 Fleaery, and there the culprit was left till it 
 was deemed that he had suffered punishment 
 enough in this life for his offence. 
 
 Io tengo omai per infallibil cosa, 
 
 Che sian per nostro mal nati gC insetti 
 
 Per renderci In vita aspra e nojosa . 
 
 Certo in quri primi giorni benedetti 
 Ne gli orti del piacer non abitaro 
 Questi suzzi e molesti anfmaletti ; 
 
 AV con gli altri animali a pnro a paro 
 Per saper come avessero a chiantarsi 
 Al cospetto d'Adam si presentaro : 
 
 * * 
 Nacquero dunque sol per nostro male 
 
 Quest c malnate bestie, e JUT prodottt 
 In pena de la colpa originate. 
 
 * * 
 E come I' uomo a sospirar ridutlo 
 
 Per r inferno sconcerta de gli ajffettt 
 Pravi, germoglia miseraliil frutto ; 
 
 Cost la terra fra sitoi varj effetti 
 Pel reofermento, onde bollir si sente t 
 Da se produce i velenosi inset li. 
 
 Infin, da la materia putrescente, 
 Nascon I' abbominevoli bestiuole, 
 Ed e quesla per me cosa evidt-nte. 
 
 So che nol voglion le moderne scuole ; 
 
 Ma cib che monta f In simile argomento 
 E' lecito a ciascun dir cid che vuole.* 
 
 * CORDARA.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 419 
 
 CHAPTER CLXIX. 
 
 LINKS AND AFFINITIES. A MAP OF THE 
 AUTHOR'S INTELLECTUAL COURSE IN THE 
 FIVE PRECEDING CHAPTERS. 
 
 '., rti 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 AND now it may be agreeable to the reader 
 to be presented here with a sort of synopsis, 
 or itinerary, whereby as in a chart he may 
 trace what he perhaps has erroneously con- 
 sidered the erratic course of association in 
 the five antecedent Chapters. 
 
 First, then, Aristotle held that domesticated 
 animals were benefited by their connection 
 with man. 
 
 Secondly, the Biographer and Disciple of 
 Dr. Dove thought that Aristotle was not 
 altogether right when he held that domes- 
 ticated animals were benefited by their 
 connection with man. 
 
 Thirdly, Chick-Pick, and Hen-Pen, and 
 Cock-Lock, and Duck-Luck, and Turkey- 
 Lurkey, and Goosey-Loosey, being con- 
 sulted, confirmed the opinion of the Bio- 
 grapher and Disciple of Dr. Dove, that 
 Aristotle was not altogether right when he 
 held that domesticated animals were bene- 
 fited by their connection with man. 
 
 Fourthly, it was seen that Goosey-Loosey 
 ended her speech abruptly and significantly 
 with the word Hut : When Chick-Pick and 
 Hen-Pen, and Cock-Lock, and Duck-Luck, 
 and Turkey-Lurkey, and Goosey-Loosey, 
 being consulted, confirmed the opinion of 
 the Biographer and Disciple of Dr. Dove, 
 that Aristotle was not altogether right when 
 he held that domesticated animals were 
 benefited by their connection with man. 
 
 Fifthly, it was observed that Grammarians 
 have maintained many and mysterious opi- 
 nions concerning the nature of the word But, 
 with which Goosey-Loosey ended her speech 
 abruptly and significantly, after Chick-Pick, 
 and Hen-Pen, and Cock-Lock, and Duck- 
 Luck, and Turkey-Lurkey, and Goosey- 
 Loosey, being consulted, had confirmed the 
 opinion of the Biographer and Disciple of 
 Dr. Dove, that Aristotle was not altogether 
 
 right when he held that domesticated animals 
 were benefited by their connection with man. 
 
 Sixthly, a question was propounded, after 
 it had been observed that Grammarians have 
 maintained many and mysterious opinions 
 concerning the nature of the word But, with 
 which Goosey-Loosey ended her speech 
 abruptly and significantly, after Chick-Pick, 
 and Hen-Pen, and Cock-Lock, and Duck- 
 Luck, and Turkey-Lurkey, and Goosey- 
 Loosey, being consulted, had confirmed the 
 opinion of the Biographer and Disciple of 
 Dr. Dove, that Aristotle was not altogether 
 right when he held that domesticated animals 
 were benefited by their connection with man. 
 
 Seventhly, the Reader answered the ques- 
 tion which the writer propounded, after it 
 had been observed that Grammarians have 
 maintained many and mysterious opinions 
 concerning the nature of the word But, with 
 which Goosey-Loosey ended her speech 
 abruptly and significantly, after Chick-Pick, 
 and Hen-Pen, and Cock-Lock, and Duck- 
 Luck, and Turkey-Lurkey, and Goosey- 
 Loosey, being consulted, had confirmed the 
 opinion of the Biographer and Disciple of 
 Dr. Dove, that Aristotle was not altogether 
 right when he held that domesticated animals 
 were benefited by their connection with man. 
 
 Eighthly, it appeared that the Reader had 
 hit the But, when he answered the question 
 which the writer propounded, after it had 
 been observed that Grammarians have main- 
 tained many and mysterious opinions con- 
 cerning the nature of the word But, with 
 which Goosey-Loosey ended her speech 
 abruptly and significantly, after Chick-Pick, 
 and Hen-Pen, and Cock-Lock, and Duck- 
 Luck, and Turkey-Lurkey, and Goosey- 
 Loosey, being consulted, had confirmed the 
 opinion of the Biographer and Disciple of 
 Dr. Dove, that Aristotle was not altogether 
 right when he held that domesticated animals 
 were benefited by their connection with man. 
 
 Ninthly, there was an entry of one million, 
 eight hundred and twenty thousand Goose 
 Quills, entered in that place, because the 
 Reader had hit the But, when he answered 
 the question which the writer propounded, 
 after it had been observed that Grammarians
 
 420 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 have maintained many and mysterious opi- 
 nions concerning the nature of the word But, 
 with which Goosey-Loosey ended her speech 
 abruptly and significantly, after Chick-Pick, 
 and Hen-Pen, and Cock-Lock, and Duck- 
 Luck, and Turkey-Lurkey, and Goosey- 
 Loosey, being consulted, had confirmed the 
 opinion of the Biographer and Disciple of 
 Dr. Dove, that Aristotle was not altogether 
 right when he held that domesticated ani- 
 mals were benefited by their connection 
 with man. 
 
 Tenthly, the Reader was called upon to 
 consider the good and evil connected with 
 those one million, eight hundred and twenty 
 thousand goose quills, the entry of which 
 was entered in that place, because the Reader 
 had hit the But, when he answered the ques- 
 tion which the writer propounded, after it had 
 been observed that Grammarians have main- 
 tained many and mysterious opinions concern- 
 ing the nature of the word But, with which 
 Goosey-Loosey ended her speech abruptly 
 and significantly, after Chick-Pick, and Hen- 
 Pen, and Cock-Lock, and Duck-Luck, and 
 Turkey-Lurkey, and Goosey-Loosey, being 
 consulted, had confirmed the opinion of the 
 Biographer and Disciple of Dr. Dove, that 
 Aristotle was not altogether right when he 
 held that domesticated animals were bene- 
 fited by their connection with man. 
 
 Eleventhly, a wish concerning Whales was 
 expressed, which was associated, it has not 
 yet appeared how, with the feeling in which 
 the Reader is called upon to consider the 
 good and the evil connected with those one 
 million, eight hundred and twenty thousand 
 goose quills, the entry of which was entered 
 in that place, because the Reader had hit 
 the But, when he answered the question 
 which the writer propounded, after it had 
 been observed that Grammarians have main- 
 tained many and mysterious opinions con- 
 cerning the nature of the word But, with 
 which Goosey-Loosey ended her speech ab- 
 ruptly and significantly, after Chick-Pick, 
 and Hen-Pen, and Cock-Lock, and Duck- 
 Luck, and Turkey-Lurkey, and Goosey- 
 Loosey, being consulted, had confirmed the, 
 opinion of the Biographer and Disciple of 
 
 Dr. Dove, that Aristotle was not altogether 
 right when he held that domesticated animals 
 were benefited by their connection with man. 
 
 Twelfthly, Captain Scoresby was intro- 
 duced in consequence of a wish concerning 
 Whales having been expressed, which was as- 
 sociated, it has not yet appeared how, with the 
 feeling in which the Reader was called upon 
 to consider the good and the evil connected 
 with those one million, eight hundred and 
 twenty thousand goose quills, the entry of 
 which was entered in that place, because the 
 Reader had hit the But, when he answered 
 the question which the writer propounded, 
 after it had been observed that Grammarians 
 have maintained many and mysterious opi- 
 nions concerning the nature of the word But, 
 with which Goosey-Loosey ended her speech 
 abruptly and significantly, after Chick -Pick, 
 and Hen-Pen, and Cock-Lock, and Duck- 
 Luck, and Turkey-Lurkey, and Goosey- 
 Loosey, being consulted, had confirmed the 
 opinion of the Biographer and Disciple of Dr. 
 Dove, that Aristotle was not altogether right 
 when hemaintained that domesticated animals 
 were benefited by their connection with man. 
 
 Thirteenthly, some curious facts concern- 
 ing the Greenland fishery were stated on 
 the authority of Captain Scoresby, who was 
 introduced in consequence of a wish concern- 
 ing Whales having been expressed, which 
 was associated, it has not yet appeared how, 
 with the feeling to which the Reader was 
 called upon to consider the good and the 
 evil connected with those one million, eight 
 hundred and twenty thousand goose quills, 
 the entry of which was entered in that place, 
 because the Reader had hit the But, when 
 he answered the question which the writer 
 propounded, after it had been observed that 
 Grammarians have maintained many and 
 mysterious opinions concerning the nature 
 of the word But, with which Goosey-Loosey 
 ended her speech abruptly and significantly, 
 after Chick-Pick, and Hen-Pen, and Cock- 
 Lock, and Duck-Luck, and Turkey-Lurkey, 
 and Goosey-Loosey, being consulted, con- 
 firmed the opinion of the Biographer and 
 Disciple of Dr. Dove, that Aristotle was not 
 altogether right when he held that domesti-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 421 
 
 cateil animals were benefited by their con- 
 nection with man. 
 
 Fourteenthly, a beautiful stanza was quoted 
 from a poem by Mr. Charles Lloyd, which, 
 becoming applicable as a motto because it 
 seemed inapplicable, was applied, after some 
 curious facts concerning the Greenland fishery 
 had been stated on the authority of Captain 
 Scoresby, who was introduced in consequence 
 of a wish concerning Whales having been 
 expressed, which was associated, it has not 
 yet appeared how, with the feeling in which 
 the Reader was called upon to consider the 
 good and the evil connected with those one 
 million, eight hundred and twenty thousand 
 goose quills, the entry of which was entered 
 in that place, because the Reader had hit 
 the But, when he answered the question 
 which the writer propounded, after it had 
 been observed that Grammarians have main- 
 tained many and mysterious opinions con- 
 cerning the nature of the word But, with 
 which Goosey-Loosey ended her speech 
 abruptly and significantly, after Chick-Pick, 
 and Hen-Pen, and Cock-Lock, and Duck- 
 Luck, and Turkey-Lurkey, and Goosey- 
 Loosey, being consulted, confirmed the opi- 
 nion of the Biographer and Disciple of Dr. 
 Dove, that Aristotle was not altogether right 
 when he held that domesticated animals were 
 benefited by their connection with man. 
 
 Fifteenthly, that the writer in all which 
 went before had adhered, and was at present 
 adhering to the philosophy of Dr. Dove, was 
 shown in relation to a beautiful stanza that 
 had been quoted from a poem by Mr. Charles 
 Lloyd, which, becoming applicable as a 
 motto because it seemed to be inapplicable, 
 was applied, after some curious facts con- 
 cerning the Greenland fishery had been 
 stated on the authority of Captain Scoresby, 
 who was introduced in consequence of a wish 
 concerning Whales having been expressed, 
 which was associated, it has not yet appeared 
 how, with the feeling in which the Reader 
 was called upon to consider the good and 
 the evil connected with those one million, 
 eight hundred and twenty thousand goose 
 quills, the entry of which was entered in that 
 place, because the Reader had hit the But, 
 
 when he answered the question which the 
 writer propounded, after it had been ob- 
 served that Grammarians have maintained 
 many and mysterious opinions concerning 
 the nature of the word But, with which 
 Goosey-Loosey ended her speech abruptly 
 and significantly, after Chick-Pick, and Hen- 
 Pen, and Cock-Lock, and Duck-Luck, and 
 Turkey-Lurkey, and Goosey-Loosey, being 
 consulted, confirmed the opinion of the Bio- 
 grapher and Disciple of Dr. Dove, that Aris- 
 totle was not altogether right when he held 
 that domesticated animals were benefited 
 by their connection with man. 
 
 Sixteenthly, an assertion of Captain Scores- 
 by's that Whales were created for man was 
 brought forward, when it had been shown 
 that the writer in all which went before had 
 adhered, and was at present adhering to the 
 philosophy of Dr. Dove, in relation to a 
 beautiful stanza that had been quoted from 
 a poem by Air. Charles Lloyd, which, becom- 
 ing applicable as a motto because it seemed 
 to be inapplicable, was applied, after some 
 curious facts concerning the Greenland fish- 
 ery had been stated on the authority of 
 Captain Scoresby, who was introduced in 
 consequence of a wish concerning Whales 
 having been expressed, which was associated, 
 it has not yet appeared how, with the feeling 
 in which the reader was called upon to con- 
 sider the good and the evil connected with 
 those one million, eight hundred and twenty 
 thousand goose quills, the entry of which 
 was entered in that place, because the Reader 
 had hit the But, when he answered the ques- 
 tion which the writer propounded, after it 
 had been observed that Grammarians have 
 maintained many and mysterious opinions 
 concerning the nature of the word But, with 
 which Goosey-Loosey ended her speech ab- 
 ruptly and significantly, after Chick-Pick, 
 and Hen-Pen, and Cock-Lock, and Duck- 
 Luck, and Turkey-Lurkey, and Goosey- 
 Loosey, being consulted, confirmed the 
 opinion of the Biographer and Disciple of 
 Dr. Dove, that Aristotle was not altogether 
 right when he held that domesticated ani- 
 mals were benefited by their connection 
 with man.
 
 422 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Seventeenthly and lastly, the Biographer 
 and Disciple of Dr. Dove opposed the asser- 
 tion of Captain Scoresby that Whales were 
 created for man, which assertion was brought 
 forward when it had been shown, that the 
 writer in all which went before had adhered, 
 and was at present adhering to the philo- 
 sophy of Dr. Dove, in relation to a beautiful 
 stanza that had been quoted from a poem of 
 Mr. Charles Lloyd, which, becoming appli- 
 cable as a motto because it seemed to be 
 inapplicable, was applied, after some curious 
 facts concerning the Greenland fishery had 
 been stated on the authority of Captain 
 Scoresby, who was introduced in conse- 
 quence of a wish concerning Whales having 
 been expressed, which was associated, it has 
 not yet appeared how, with the feeling in 
 which the Reader was called upon to con- 
 sider the good and the evil connected with 
 those one million, eight hundred and twenty 
 thousand goose quills, the entry of which was 
 entered in that place, because the Reader 
 had hit the But, when he answered the 
 question which the writer propounded, 
 after it had been observed that Gramma- 
 rians have maintained many and myste- 
 rious opinions concerning the nature of 
 the word But, with which Goosey-Loosey 
 ended her speech abruptly and significantly, 
 after Chick-Pick, and Hen-Pen, and Cock- 
 Lock, and Duck-Luck, and Turkey-Lurkey, 
 and Goosey-Loosey, being consulted, con- 
 firmed the opinion of the Biographer and 
 Disciple of Dr. Dove, that Aristotle was not 
 altogether right when he held that domes- 
 ticated animals were benefited by their con- 
 nection with man. 
 
 You see, Reader, where we are, and whence 
 we came, and I have thus retraced for you 
 the seventeen stages of association by which 
 we have proceeded from the one point to the 
 other, because you will have much more 
 satisfaction in seeing the substance of the 
 aforesaid five chapters thus clearly and co- 
 herently recapitulated, than if it had been 
 in the common form, simply and compen- 
 diously capitulated at the head of each. For 
 in this point I agree with that good, patient, 
 kind-hearted, industrious, ingenious, odd, 
 
 whimsical and yet withal dullus homo, James 
 Elphinstone, Radical Reformer of English 
 Orthography. He says, and you shall have 
 the passage in Elphinstonography, as he 
 printed it, "I own myself an ennemy 
 to hwatevver seems quaint in dhe verry 
 contents ov a chapter ; and dho dhe starts 
 ov surprize be intollerabell, wons plezzure 
 iz no les balked by anticipation. Hoo in- 
 deed prezents a bil ov fare, widh an enter- 
 tainment ? Hwen dhe entertainment iz 
 over, dhe bil may doubtles com in, to re- 
 fresh dhe memmory, edher widh plan or 
 particulers, dhat hav regaled dhe various 
 pallates ov dhe company." 
 
 CHAPTER CLXX. 
 
 THE AUTHOR REPEATS A REMARK OF HIS 
 DAUGHTER UPON THE PRECEDING CHAP- 
 TER ; COMPLIMENTS THE LORD BROUGHAM 
 AND VAUX UPON HIS LUNGS AND LARYNX ; 
 PHILOSOPHISES AND QUOTES, AND QUOTES 
 AND PHILOSOPHISES AGAIN AND AGAIN. 
 
 Fato, Fortuna, Predestinazione, 
 
 Sorte, Caso, Ventura, son di quells 
 Cose che dan gran noja a le persone, 
 
 E vi si dicon su di gran novelle. 
 Ma in fine Iddio d' ogni cose padrone : 
 
 E chi e savio domina a le stelle ; 
 Chi nan e savio paziente e forte, 
 
 Lament isi di se, non de la sorte. ORL. INN. 
 
 "PAPPA, it's a breathless chapter!" says 
 one whose eyes when they are turned toward 
 me I never meet without pleasure, unless 
 sorrow has suffused them, or illness dimmed 
 their light. 
 
 Nobody then can give so much effect to 
 it in reading aloud as the Lord Chancellor 
 Brougham and Vaux, he having made a 
 speech of nine hours long upon the state of 
 the law, and thereby proved himself to be 
 the most long-winded of living men. And 
 fit it is that he should be so ; for there are 
 very few men to whom, whether he be right 
 or wrong, it can be so well worth while to 
 listen. 
 
 Yet give me space a while for to respire, 
 And I myself shall fairly well out-wind.* 
 
 * HENKY MORE.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 423 
 
 For I have read no idle or unprofitable 
 lesson in this remuneration. Were we thus 
 to retrace the course of our own lives, there 
 are few of us who would not find that that 
 course had been influenced, and its most 
 important events brought about, by inci- 
 dents which might seem as casually or ca- 
 priciously connected as the seventeen links 
 of this mental chain. Investigate anything 
 backward through seventeen generations of 
 motives, or moving causes, whether in pri- 
 vate or in public life : see from what slight 
 and insignificant circumstances friendships 
 have originated, and have been dissolved; 
 by what accidents the choice of a profession, 
 or of a wife, have been determined, and on 
 how inconsiderable a point the good or ill 
 fortune of a life has depended ; deaths, 
 marriages, wealth or poverty, opinions more 
 important than all other things, as in their 
 consequence affecting our happiness not 
 only here but hereafter ; victories and de- 
 feats, war and peace, change of ministries 
 and of dynasties, revolutions, the overthrow 
 of thrones, the degradation, and the ruin, 
 and the destruction, and the disappearance 
 of nations ! Trace any of these backward 
 link by link, and long before we are lost in 
 the series of causes, we shall be lost in 
 thought, and in wonder ; so much will there 
 be to humble the pride of man, to abate his 
 presumption, and to call for and confirm his 
 faith. 
 
 On dit que quand les Chinois, qui riorit pas 
 Fusage des horologes, commencerent a voir 
 ces roues, ces balanciers, ces volans, ces con- 
 trepoids, et tout fattirail de ces grandes 
 machines, considerant les pieces a part et 
 comme desmembrees, Us it en firent pas grand 
 estat, pource qrfils ne sqavoient a quel usage 
 devoient servir toutes ces pieces : mais comme 
 elles furent montees, et qu'ils oiiyrent les 
 heurcs sur le tymbre, ils furent si surpris 
 d* estonnement, quils s'as.sembloient d trouppes 
 pour voir le mouvement de T aiguille, et pour 
 entendre les heures; et appellerent ces ma- 
 chines en leur langue, LE FER QUI PARLE. 
 Je dis que qui considera les parties de la Pro- 
 vidence Divine comme desmembrees et d piece, 
 tant de ressorts, tant daccordans divers, tant 
 
 d'evenemens qui nous semblent casuels, ne se 
 pourrajamais imaginer la beaut e de cette ma- 
 chine, la sagesse de cette Providence, la con- 
 duitte de ce grand corps ; d cause qu'on fait 
 tort d un ouvrage fait d la Mosaique de le voir 
 d lambeaux ; il le faut voir monte et range 
 par le menu pour marquer sa beaute. Mais 
 quand on entend Fheure qui sonne sur le tym- 
 bre, on commence d cognoistre qu'il y avoit 
 au dedans une belle et agreable police qui 
 paroist au dehors par la sonnerie. Ainsi en 
 est il d pen pres de la vie d"un homme.* 
 
 May not that which frequently has been, 
 instruct us as to what will be ! is a question 
 which Hobbes proposes, and which he an- 
 swers in the negative. "No ;" he replies to 
 it, " for no one knows what may be, except 
 He who knows all things, because all things 
 contribute to everything." 
 
 Nonne 
 
 Id quod stupe fuit, nos docet id quod erit ; 
 Nan ; scit enim quod erit, nisi qui sciat omnia, nemo; 
 Omni contribuunt omnia namque ret. 
 
 The philosopher of Doncaster was far from 
 agreeing with the philosopher of Malmesbury 
 upon this as upon many other points. De 
 minimis non curat lex, was a maxim with him 
 in philosophy as well as in law. There were 
 many things he thought, which ended in as 
 little as they began, fatherless and childless 
 actions, having neither cause nor conse- 
 quence, bubbles upon the stream of events, 
 which rise, burst, and are no more : 
 
 A moment seen, then gone for ever.f 
 
 What John Newton said is nevertheless 
 true ; the way of man is not in himself! nor 
 can he conceive what belongs to a single 
 step. " When I go to St. Mary Woolnoth," 
 he proceeds, " it seems the same whether I 
 turn down Lothbury or go through the Old 
 Jewry; but the going through one street 
 and not another may produce an effect of 
 lasting consequence." He had proof enough 
 of this in the providential course of his own 
 eventful life ; and who is there that cannot 
 
 * GARASSE This passage is remarkable. Paley evi- 
 dently borrowed the illustration from Burnet's Theoria 
 Sacra ; whether Burnet borrowed it from Garassc is not 
 so clear : he was about forty years Burnet's senior, 
 t BURNS.
 
 424 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 call to mind some striking instances in his 
 own? 
 
 " There is a time coming," said this good 
 man, "when our warfare shall be accom- 
 plished, our views enlarged, and our light 
 increased; then with what transports of 
 adoration and love shall we look back upon 
 the way by which the Lord led us ! We 
 shall then see and acknowledge that mercy 
 and goodness directed every step ; we shall 
 see that what our ignorance once called 
 adversities and evils, were in reality bless- 
 ings which we could not have done well 
 without; that nothing befell us without a 
 cause, that no trouble came upon us sooner, 
 or pressed us more heavily, or continued 
 longer, than our case required : in a word, 
 that our many afflictions were each in their 
 place, among the means employed by divine 
 grace and wisdom, to bring us to the pos- 
 session of that exceeding and eternal weight 
 of glory which the Lord has prepared for his 
 people. And even in this imperfect state, 
 though we are seldom able to judge aright 
 of our present circumstances, yet if we look 
 upon the years of our past life, and compare 
 the dispensations we have been brought 
 through, with the frame of our minds under 
 each successive period ; if we consider how 
 wonderfully one thing has been connected 
 with another ; so that what we now number 
 amongst our greatest advantages, perhaps 
 took their first rise from incidents which we 
 thought hardly worth our notice ; and that 
 we have sometimes escaped the greatest 
 dangers that threatened us, not by any 
 wisdom or foresight of our own, but by that 
 intervention of circumstances, which we nei- 
 ther desired nor thought of; I say, when 
 we compare and consider these things by the 
 light afforded us in the Holy Scriptures, we 
 may collect indisputable proof from the 
 narrow circle of our own concerns, that the 
 wise and good providence of God watches 
 over his people from the earliest moment 
 of their life, over-rules and guards them 
 through all their wanderings in a state of 
 ignorance, and leads them in a way they 
 know not, till at length his providence and 
 grace concur in those events and impres- 
 
 sions which bring them to the knowledge of 
 Him and themselves." 
 
 " All things are brought upon us by 
 Nature and Fate," says the unknown specu- 
 lator who foisted his theology upon the 
 woi'ld under the false name of Hermes Tris- 
 megistus : " and there is no place deserted 
 by Providence. But Providence is the 
 reason, perfect in itself, of super-celestial 
 Deity. From it are the two known Powers, 
 Necessity and Fate. Fate is the Minister 
 of Providence and of Necessity ; and the 
 Stars are the ministers of Fate. And no 
 one can fly from Fate, nor protect himself 
 against its mighty force ; for the Stars are 
 the arms of Fate, and according to it all 
 things are affected in Nature and in Men." 
 Take the passage in the Latin of Franciscus 
 Patricius, who produced these mystic trea- 
 tises from the Ranzovian Library. 
 
 Omnia verofiunt Natura et Fata. El non 
 est locus desertus a Providentia. Providentia 
 vero est per se perfecta ratio superccelestis 
 Dei. Du(B auiem sunt ab ea notes potentice. 
 Necessitas et Fatum. Fatum autem ministrum 
 est ProvidenticB et Necessitatis. Fati vero 
 ministrcs sunt stella. Neque enim Fatum 
 fugere quis potest, neque se custodire ab ipsius 
 vi magnd. Arma namque Fati sunt Stella, 
 secundum ipsum namque cuncta efficiuntur 
 Natures et hominibus. 
 
 Thus, says P. Garasse, there are six or 
 seven steps down to man ; Providence, Ne- 
 cessity, Fate, the Stars, Nature, and then 
 Man at the lowest step of the ladder. For 
 Providence, being ratio absoluta ccelestis Dei, 
 is comme hors de pair : and has under her a 
 servant, who is called Necessity, and Neces- 
 sity has under her, her valet Fate, and Fate 
 has the Stars for its weapons, and the Stars 
 have Nature for their arsenal, and Nature 
 has them for her subjects : The one serves 
 the other, en sorte que le premier qui 
 manque a son devoir, desbauche tout I'attirail ; 
 mais a condition, qu'il est hors de la puissance 
 des hommes d"eviter les armes du Destin qui 
 sont les JEstoiles. Or je confesse que tout ce 
 discours m'est si obscur et enigmatique quefen- 
 tendrois mieux left resveries d'un phrenetique, 
 ou les pensees obscures de Lycophron; je
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 425 
 
 m'asseure que Trismegiste ne sentendoit non 
 plus lors quil faisoit ce discours, que nous 
 lentendons maintenant." 
 
 The Jesuit is right. Necessity, Fate and 
 Nature are mere abstractions. The Stars 
 keep their courses and regard not us. Be- 
 tween Man and his Maker nothing is inter- 
 posed ; nothing can be interposed between 
 the Omnipresent Almighty and the crea- 
 tures of His hand. Receive this truth into 
 thy soul whoever thou be'est that readest, 
 and it will work in thee a death unto sin 
 and a new birth unto righteousness ! And 
 ye who tremble at the awful thought, re- 
 member that, though there be nothing be- 
 tween us and our Judge, we have a Mediator 
 and Advocate with Him, who is the propi- 
 tiation for our sins, and who is " able to 
 save them to the uttermost that come to 
 God through Him." 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXI. 
 
 CONTAINING PART OF A SERMON, WHICH THE 
 READER WILL FIND WORTH MORE THAN 
 MOST WHOLE ONES THAT IT MAY BE HIS 
 FORTUNE TO HEAR. 
 
 Jefais une grtimte provision de ban sens en prenant ce 
 que ks autres en ont. MADAME DE MAINTENON. 
 
 READER ! I set some learning before you in 
 the last chapter, and " however some may 
 cry out that all endeavours at learning in a 
 book like this, especially where it steps 
 beyond their little, (or let me not wrong 
 them) no brain at all, is superfluous, I am 
 contented," with great Ben, " that these fas- 
 tidious stomachs should leave my full tables, 
 and enjoy at home their clean empty 
 trenchers." 
 
 In pursuance of the same theme I shall 
 set before you here some divine philosophy 
 in the words of Dr. Scott, the author of the 
 Christian Life. " The goods and evils that 
 befall us here," says that wise and excellent 
 preacher, who being dead yet speaketh, and 
 will continue to speak while there be any 
 virtue and while there be any praise, 
 
 " the goods and evils, which befall us here, 
 are not so truly to be estimated by them- 
 selves as by their effects and consequents. 
 For the Divine Providence which runs 
 through all things, hath disposed and con- 
 nected them into such a series and order, 
 that there is no single event or accident 
 (but what is purely miraculous) but depends 
 upon the whole system, and hath innumer- 
 able causes antecedent to it, and innumer- 
 able consequents attending it; and what 
 the consequents will be, whether good or 
 bad, singly and apart by itself, yet in con- 
 junction with all those consequents that will 
 most certainly attend it, the best event, for 
 aught we know, may prove most mischievous, 
 and the worst most beneficial to us. So 
 that for us boldly to pronounce concerning 
 the good or evil of events, before we see the 
 train of consequents that follow them, is 
 very rash and inconsiderate. As, for in- 
 stance, you see a good man oppressed with 
 sorrows and afflictions, and a bad man 
 crowned with pleasures and prosperities ; 
 and considering these things apart by them- 
 selves, you conclude that the one fares very 
 ill, and the other very well : but did you at 
 the same time see the consequents of the 
 one's adversity and the other's prosperity, 
 it's probable you would conclude the quite 
 contrary, viz. that the good man's adversity 
 was a blessing, and the bad man's prosperity 
 a curse. For I dare boldly affirm that good 
 men generally reap more substantial benefit 
 from their afflictions, than bad men do from 
 their prosperities. The one smarts indeed 
 at present, but what follows? perhaps his 
 mind is cured by it of some disease that is 
 ten times worse to him than his outward 
 affliction ; of avarice and impatience, of 
 envy or discontent, of pride or vanity of 
 spirit; his riches are lessened, but his virtues 
 are improved by it ; his body is impaired, 
 but his mind is grown sound and hale by it, 
 and what he hath lost in health, or wealth, 
 or pleasure, or honour, he hath gained with 
 vast advantage in wisdom and goodness, in 
 tranquillity of mind and self-enjoyment, and 
 methinks no man who believes he hath a 
 soul should grudge to suffer any tolerable
 
 426 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 affliction for bettering of his mind, his will, 
 and his conscience. 
 
 " On the other hand the bad man triumphs 
 and rejoices at present ; but what follows ? 
 His prosperity either shrivels him into mi- 
 serableness, or melts him into luxury ; the 
 former of which impoverishes, and the latter 
 diseases him : for if the former be the effect 
 of his prosperity, it increases his needs, 
 because before he needed only what he had 
 not, but now he needs both what he hath 
 not, and what he hath, his covetous desires 
 treating him as the falconer doth his hawk, 
 luring him off from what he hath seized to 
 fly at new game, and never permitting him 
 to prey upon his own quarry : and if the 
 latter be the effect of his prosperity, that is 
 if it melts him into luxury, it thereby 
 wastes his health to be sure, and commonly 
 his estate too, and so whereas it found him 
 poor and well, it leaves him poor and 
 diseased, and only took him up from the 
 plough, and sets him down at the hospital. 
 In general, while he is possessed of it, it only 
 bloats and swells him, makes him proud and 
 insolent, griping and oppressive ; pampers 
 and enrages his lust, stretches out his desires 
 into insatiable bulimy, sticks his mind full 
 of cares, and his conscience of guiles, and 
 by all those woeful effects it inflames his 
 reckoning with God, and treasures up wrath 
 for him against the day of wrath ; so that 
 comparing the consequences of the good 
 man's adversity, with those of the bad man's 
 prosperity, it is evident that the former fares 
 well even in his worst condition, and the 
 latter ill in his best. ' It is well for me,' 
 saith David, ' that I was afflicted, for before 
 I was afflicted I went astray, but now I have 
 kept thy commandments.' But, on the con- 
 trary, when the wicked spring as the grass, 
 saith the same author, and when all the 
 workers of iniquity do flourish, then it is 
 that they shall be destroyed for ever ! If 
 then in the consequents of things, good men 
 are blessed in their afflictions and bad men 
 plagued in their prosperities, as it is apparent 
 they generally are, these unequal distribu- 
 tions are so far from being an argument 
 against Providence, that they are a glorious 
 
 instance of it. For wherein could the divine 
 Providence better express its justice and 
 wisdom together, than by benefiting the 
 good, and punishing the bad by such cross 
 and unprobable methods ? ** 
 
 INTERCHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A POPULAR LAY NOTICED, WITH SUNDRY RE- 
 MARKS PERTINENT THERETO, SUGGESTED 
 THEREBY, OR DEDUCED THEREFROM. 
 
 Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit : by and by 
 it will strike. TEMPEST. 
 
 THERE was a female personage of whom I 
 will venture to say that every one of my 
 English readers, (Quakers perhaps excepted) 
 has heard tell ; and a great many of my 
 Scotch, Welsh, Irish, and Transatlantic ones 
 also I venture to say this because her 
 remarkable story has been transmitted to us 
 in a Lay, a species of composition the full 
 value of which has never been understood 
 till the present age. Niebuhr and his learned 
 followers assure us that the whole early 
 history of Rome is founded upon no other 
 authority than that of Lays, which have 
 long since perished. And very possibly 
 there may be German professors of Divinity 
 who in like manner trace the Jewish history 
 before Samuel to the Lays of Samson, 
 Jephthah, Gideon, and other heroes of the 
 Kritarchy, of Joshua, and of Moses, and so 
 of the Patriarchs upwards. 
 
 To be sure it might startle us somewhat if 
 these Lays were called by the old-fashioned 
 name of Ballads, or old songs ; and had 
 either of those appellations been used we 
 might hesitate a little before we gave im- 
 plicit credit to so great a discovery. 
 
 Returning, however, to the personage of 
 the Lay to which I have alluded, and which 
 has been handed down from mother and 
 nurse to child by immemorial tradition, and 
 not stopping to inquire whether the tale 
 itself is an historical matter of fact, or what 
 is now called a mythos, and whether the 
 personage is a mythological personage, the
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 427 
 
 Lay of the Little Woman when reduced to 
 history, or prose narration, says that she 
 went to market to sell her eggs ; in his- 
 torifying the fact from this metrical docu- 
 ment, I must take care to avoid any such 
 collocation of words as might lead me into 
 the worst of all possible styles, that of 
 poetical prose. Numerous prose indeed not 
 only carries with it a charm to the ear but 
 affords such facility to the utterance, that the 
 difference between reading aloud from a 
 book so composed, or from one which has 
 been written without any feeling of numer- 
 ousness on the writer's part, is as great and 
 perceptible as the difference between travel- 
 ling upon an old road, or a macadamised 
 one. Twenty pages of the one will exhaust 
 the reader more than threescore of the other, 
 just as there was more fatigue in a journey 
 of fifty miles, fifty years ago, than there is 
 in thrice the distance now. The fact is 
 certain, and may no doubt be physically 
 explained. But numerous prose and poe- 
 tical prose are things as different as grace- 
 fulness and affectation. 
 
 All who remember the story will recollect 
 that the Little Woman fell asleep by the way- 
 side ; and probably they will agree with me 
 in supposing, that this must have happened 
 on her return from market, after she had 
 sold her eggs, and was tired with the busi- 
 ness and excitement of the day. A different 
 conclusion would perhaps be drawn from the 
 Lay itself, were it not that in historical Lays 
 many connecting circumstances are passed 
 over because they were so well known at 
 the time the Lay was composed that it was 
 deemed unnecessary to touch upon them; 
 moreover it should be observed that in Lays 
 which have been orally transmitted for many 
 generations before they were committed to 
 writing, the less important parts are liable 
 to be dropped. Of this there is evidently an 
 example in the present case. Most country- 
 women who keep the market go on horseback, 
 I and it is not mentioned in the Lay that the 
 Little Woman went on foot ; yet that she 
 did so is certain ; for nothing could be more 
 likely than that being tired with walking 
 she should sit down to rest herself by the 
 
 way-side, and nothing more unlikely than 
 that if she had been on horseback, she 
 should have alighted for that purpose. 
 
 And here it is proper in this glose, com- 
 mentary or exposition, to obviate an in- 
 jurious suspicion which might arise con- 
 cerning the character of the Little Woman, 
 namely, that she must have been in liquor. 
 Had it been a Lay of present times, this, it 
 must be admitted, would have been very 
 probable, the British Parliament having 
 thought fit to pass au Act, by virtue, or by 
 vice of which, in addition to the public- 
 houses previously established, which were so 
 numerous that they have long been a curse 
 to the country, in addition I say to these, 
 39,654 beer shops, as appears by a Parlia- 
 mentary paper, were licensed in the year 
 1835. This Utilitarian law ought to have 
 been entitled an Act for the increase of 
 Drunkenness, and the promotion of sedition, 
 brutality, wretchedness, and pauperism. But 
 the Little Woman lived when there were 
 not more public houses than were required 
 for the convenience of travellers ; perhaps 
 before there were any, when strangers were 
 entertained in monasteries, or went to the 
 parsonage, as was the custom within the 
 present century in some parts of Switzerland. 
 In Iceland they are lodged in the Church at 
 this time ; but this seems never to have been 
 the case in England. 
 
 It was a hot day, probably at the latter 
 end of summer, or perhaps in autumn ; this 
 must be inferred from the circumstances of 
 the story ; and if the Little Woman called 
 at a gossip's house, and was offered some 
 refreshment, it is very possible that being 
 thirsty she may have drank a peg lower in 
 the cup than she generally allowed herself 
 to do ; and that being somewhat exhausted, 
 the ale, beer, cyder, or metheglin may have 
 had more effect upon her than it would have 
 had at another time, and that consequently 
 she may have felt drowsy as soon as she sate 
 down. This may be admitted without im- 
 peaching her reputation on the score of 
 temperance ; and beyond this it is certain, 
 as will presently be made appear, that her 
 head could not have been affected.
 
 423 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Sleep, however, 
 
 weigh'd her eye-lids down 
 And steep'd her senses in forgetfulness. 
 
 It will sometimes press heavily on the lids, 
 even when the mind is wakeful, and fever- 
 ishly, or miserably employed ; but it will 
 seldom steep the senses unless it be of that 
 sound kind which denotes a healthy body 
 and a heart at ease. They who sleep soundly 
 must be free from care. In the south of 
 Europe men of the lower classes lie down in 
 the sun or shade according to the season, 
 and fall asleep like dogs at any time. The 
 less they are raised above animal life, the 
 sounder the sleep is, and the more it seems 
 to be an act of volition with them; when 
 they close their eyes there is nothing within 
 to keep them waking. 
 
 Well, our Little Woman was sleeping on 
 a bank beside the way, when a Pedlar hap- 
 pened to come by. Not such a Pedlar as 
 the one in Mr. Wordsworth's Excursion, 
 who was what Randolph's Pedlar describes 
 himself to be, " a noble, generous, under- 
 standing, royal, magnificent, religious, he- 
 roical, and thrice illustrious Pedlar;" if 
 Randolph had been a Highlander this de- 
 scription might have been adduced as a 
 proof of the prophetic faculty, a second 
 sight of that glorious poem, the well esta- 
 blished fame of which and the effect which 
 it has produced and is producing upon 
 the present generation both of authors and 
 readers must be so peculiarly gratifying to 
 Lord Jeffrey. No; he was such a Pedlar 
 as Autolycus, and if the Little Woman lived 
 in the days of King Leontes, it may possibly 
 have been Autolycus himself; for he had 
 " a quick eye and a nimble hand," and was 
 one who " Held honesty for a fool and Trust, 
 his brother, for a very simple gentleman." 
 The distance between Bohemia and England 
 makes no difficulty in this supposition. Gyp- 
 sies used to be called Bohemians ; and more- 
 over, as Uncle Toby would have told Trim, 
 Bohemia might have been a maritime country 
 in those days ; and when he found it con- 
 venient to return thither, the readiest way 
 was to get on board ship. 
 
 It is said, however, in the Lay, that the 
 
 Pedlar's name was Stout. It may have been 
 so ; and yet I am disposed to think that this 
 is a corrupt passage, and that stout in this 
 place is more probably an epithet, than a 
 name. The verse may probably have run 
 thus, 
 
 There came by a Pedlar, a losell stout, 
 
 a stout thief being formerly as common a 
 designation as a sturdy beggar. This rogue 
 seeing her asleep by the way-side, cut her 
 petticoats all round about up to the knee ; 
 whence it appears not only how soundly she 
 must have been sleeping, and how expert he 
 was in this branch of his trade, but also that 
 her pockets were in her petticoats and not a 
 separate article of her dress. 
 
 At the marriage of Sir Philip Herbert 
 with the Lady Susan Vere, which was per- 
 formed at the Court of Whitehall, in the 
 year 1604, with all the honour that could be 
 done to a great favourite, many great ladies 
 were made shorter by the skirts, like the 
 Little Woman; and Sir Dudley Carleton 
 says "they were well enough served that 
 they could keep cut* no better." If the 
 reader asks what is keeping cut ? he asks a 
 question I cannot answer. 
 
 I have already observed that the weather 
 was warm, and the proof is twofold, first in 
 the Little Woman's sitting down by the 
 way, which in cold weather she would not 
 have done ; and, secondly, because when she 
 awoke and discovered the condition in which 
 this cut-purse had left her, she began to 
 quiver and quake, for these words are 
 plainly intended to denote at the same time 
 a sense of chilliness, and an emotion of fear. 
 She quivered perhaps for cold, having been 
 deprived of so great a part of her lower 
 garments ; but she quaked for fear, consi- 
 dering as well the danger she had been in, 
 as the injury which she had actually sus- 
 tained. The confusion of mind produced by 
 these mingled emotions was so remarkable 
 that Mr. Coleridge might have thought it 
 not unworthy of his psychological and tran- 
 scendental investigations ; and Mr. Words- 
 
 * Quccref To be in the fashion to be as others are ?
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 429 
 
 worth might make it the subject of a mo- 
 dern Lay to be classed either among his 
 poems of the Fancy, or of the Imagination 
 as might to him seem fit. For the Lay says 
 that the Little Woman, instead of doubting 
 for a while whether she were asleep or 
 awake, that is to say whether she were in a 
 dream because of the strange, and indeco- 
 rous, and uncomfortable, and unaccountable 
 condition in which she found herself, doubted 
 her own identity, and asked herself whether 
 she were herself, or not ? So little was she 
 able to answer so subtle a question satisfac- 
 torily that she determined upon referring it 
 to the decision of a little dog which she had 
 left at home, and whose fidelity and in- 
 stinctive sagacity could not, she thought, be 
 deceived. " If it be I," said she, " as I hope 
 it be, he will wag his little tail for joy at my 
 return ; if it be not I, he will bark at me 
 for a stranger." Homeward, therefore, the 
 Little Woman went, and confused as she 
 was, she found her way there instinctively 
 like Dr. Southey's Ladurlad, and almost in 
 as forlorn a state. Before she arrived, 
 night had closed, and it became dark. She 
 had reckoned rightly upon her dog's fidelity, 
 but counted too much upon his sagacious 
 instinct. He did not recognise his mistress 
 at that unusual hour, and in a curtailed 
 dress wherein he had never seen her before, 
 and instead of wagging his tail, and fawn- 
 ing, and whining, to bid her welcome as she 
 had hoped, he began to bark angrily, with 
 faithful but unfortunate vigilance, mistaking 
 her for a stranger who could have no good 
 reason for coming about the premises at that 
 time of night. And the Lay concludes with 
 the Little Woman's miserable conclusion 
 that as the dog disowned her, she was not 
 the dog's Mistress, not the person who 
 dwelt in that house, and whom she had sup- 
 posed herself to be, in fact not herself, but 
 somebody else, she did not know who. 
 
 INTERCHAPTER XVIH. 
 
 APPLICATION OF THE LAY. CALEB D'ANVERS. 
 IKISH LAW. ICON BASILIKE. JUNIUS. 
 THOMAS A KEMPIS. FELIX HEMMERLIN. 
 A NEEDLE LARGER THAN GAMMER GUR- 
 TON'S AND A MUCH COARSER THREAD. 
 THOMAS WARTON AND BISHOP STILL. THE 
 JOHN WEBSTERS, THE ALEXANDER CUN- 
 INGHAMS, THE CURINAS AND THE STE- 
 PHENS. 
 
 Lo que soy, razona poco 
 Porque de sombra a mi va nada, o poco. 
 
 FCENTB DESEAUA. 
 
 THE sagacious reader will already have ap- 
 plied the Lay of the Little Woman to the 
 case of Dr. Dove's disciple and memorialist, 
 and mentally apostrophising him may have 
 said, 
 
 dete 
 Fabula narratur. 
 
 Even so, dear Reader, the Little Woman 
 was a type of me, and yet but an imperfect 
 one, for my case is far more complicated 
 than hers. The simple doubt which dis- 
 tressed her, (and a most distressing one it 
 must be admitted that it was,) was whether 
 she were herself or not ; but the compound 
 question which has been mooted concerning 
 me is whether I am myself or somebody else, 
 and whether somebody else is himself or 
 me. 
 
 When various conjectures were formed 
 and assertions hazarded concerning the 
 Author or Editor of the Craftsman, some 
 representing Caleb D'Anvers as an ima- 
 ginary person, a mere fictitious character 
 made use of to screen the performances of 
 men in the dark, that formidable opponent 
 of Sir Robert Walpole's administration said, 
 " I hope it will not be expected that I should 
 stand still and see myself reasoned out of 
 my existence." 
 
 Every one knows that it is possible to be 
 reasoned out of our rights and despoiled in 
 consequence of our property in a court of 
 law ; but every one may not know that it is 
 possible to be reasoned out of our existence 
 there : I do not mean condemned to death, 
 and executed accordingly upon the testi-
 
 430 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 mony of false witnesses, as those who suffered 
 for the Popish plot were ; or upon circum- 
 stantial evidence, honestly produced, and 
 disproved when it was too late ; but that an 
 individual may be judicially declared to be 
 not in existence, when actually present in 
 the Court to give the Lawyers and the Law 
 the lie. 
 
 On the 2d of March, 1784, the Irish 
 Attorney General was heard before the 
 Irish House of Lords in the case of Hume 
 and Loftus. In the course of his argument 
 he contended that judgments were of the 
 most sacred nature, and that to reverse one 
 was in effect to overturn the law and the 
 constitution ; the record was binding, and a 
 bar to all other evidence being produced to 
 the Court. " He instanced a case wherein 
 a judgment had been given on the presumed 
 death of a man's wife, who, as afterwards 
 appeared, was not dead, but was produced in 
 person to the Court, and was properly iden- 
 tified, and it was prayed to the Court to 
 reverse the judgment given on supposition 
 of her death which had been pronounced by 
 the same Court, as in the pleading stated. 
 Nevertheless the Court, with the Woman 
 before their eyes, pronounced her dead, and 
 confirmed the judgment, saying, that the 
 verdict was not that which was binding, but 
 the judgment, in consequence of the verdict 
 having become a record, could not be re- 
 versed." 
 
 This woman, upon hearing such a decision 
 concerning herself pronounced, might well 
 have called in question not her identity, but 
 the evidence of her senses, and have supposed 
 that she was dreaming, or out of her wits, 
 rather than that justice could be so outraged, 
 and common sense so grossly insulted in a 
 Court of Law. 
 
 Happily my case is in no worse court than 
 a Court of Criticism, a Court in which I 
 can neither be compelled to plead nor to 
 appear. 
 
 Dr. Wordsworth rendered good service to 
 English History when he asked who wrote 
 Ei'icwf B(TiXtK>}, for it is a question of great 
 historical importance, and he has shown, 
 by a careful investigation of all the evidence 
 
 which it has been possible to collect, that it 
 is the work of Charles himself, confirming 
 thus that internal evidence which is of the 
 most conclusive kind. 
 
 Who was Junius is a question which is 
 not likely ever to be determined by dis- 
 cussion after so many fruitless attempts ; 
 but whenever the secret shall by any chance 
 be discovered, considerable light will be 
 thrown upon the political intrigues of the 
 earlier part of a most important reign. 
 
 But who or what I am can be of no im- 
 portance to any but myself. 
 
 More than one hundred and fifty treatises 
 are said to have been published upon the 
 question whether Thomas a Kempis was the 
 Author of the well-known book de Imitations 
 Christi. That question affects the Augus- 
 tinians ; for if it were proved that this 
 native of Kemp near Cologne, Thomas Ham- 
 merlein by name, were the transcriber only 
 and not the writer of that famous treatise, 
 they would lose the brightest ornament of 
 their order. This Hammerlein has never 
 been confounded with his namesake Felix, 
 once a Doctor and Precentor Clarissimus, 
 under whose portrait in the title page of one 
 of his volumes where he stands Hammer in 
 hand, there are these verses. 
 
 Felicis si tejuvat indulsisse libellis 
 
 Malleoli, presens dilige lector opus. 
 Hints ingenium variis scabronibus ac/ttm 
 
 Perspicis, et stimulos sustinuisse graves. 
 Casibus adversis, aurum velut igne, probatus 
 
 Hostibus usque suis Malleus acer erat. 
 Hinc sibi conveniens sortittis nomen, ut esset 
 
 Hemmerlin dictus, nomine, reque, statu. 
 At Felix tnndem, vilioque ill&sus ab omni 
 
 Carceris e tenebris sydera Clara subit. 
 
 This Hemmerlin in his Dialogue between a 
 Nobleman and a Rustic, makes the Rustic 
 crave license for his rude manner of speech 
 saying, Si ruralis consuetudine moris in- 
 eptissime loquar per te non corripiar, quia non 
 sermonis colorum quoque nitorem, sed sensus 
 sententiarumque requiro rigorem. Nam le- 
 gitur quod Demon sedcbat et braccam cum 
 reste suebat; etdixit, si non est pulchra, tamen 
 est consucio firma. The needle must have 
 been considerably larger than Gammer 
 Gurton's, which is never-the-less and ever 
 will be the most famous of all needles.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 431 
 
 Well was it for Hodge when Diccon the 
 Bedlam gave him the good openhanded blow 
 which produced the catastrophe of that 
 Right Pithy, Pleasant, and Merry Comedy 
 entitled Gammer Gurton's Needle, Well 
 was it I say for Hodge that the Needle in 
 the episcopal comedy was not of such calibre 
 as that wherewith the Auld Gude Man, as 
 the Scotch, according to Sir Walter, re- 
 spectfully call the Old Wicked One, in their 
 caution never to give any unnecessary 
 ofFc'nce, Well, again I say, was it for 
 Hodge that his Gammer's Neele, her dear 
 Neele, her fair long straight Neele that was 
 her only treasure, was of no such calibre as 
 the Needle which that Old One used, when 
 mending his breeks with a rope he observed 
 that though it was not a neat piece of sewing 
 it was strong, for if it had been such a 
 Needle, Diccon's manual joke must have 
 proved fatal. Our Bishops write no such 
 comedies now ; yet we have more than one 
 who could translate it into Aristophanic 
 Greek. 
 
 Wherefore did Thomas Warton (never to 
 be named without respect and gratitude by 
 all lovers of English literature) say that 
 when the Sermons of Hugh Latimer were in 
 vogue at Court, the University might be 
 justified in applauding Gammer Gurton's 
 Needle ? How could he who so justly ap- 
 preciated the Comedy, disparage those 
 sermons ? He has spoken of the play as the 
 first in our language in which a comic story 
 is handled with some disposition of plot and 
 some discrimination. " The writer," he says, 
 " has a degree of jocularity which sometimes 
 rises above buffoonery, but is often disgraced 
 by lowness of incident. Yet in a more 
 polished age he would have chosen, nor 
 would he perhaps have disgraced, a better 
 subject. It has been thought, surprising 
 that a learned audience could have endured 
 some of these indelicate scenes. But the 
 established festivities of scholars were gross; 
 nor was learning in that age always ac- 
 companied by gentleness of manners." Nor 
 is it always now, nor has it ever been, O ! 
 Thomas Warton! if it had, you would not i 
 when you wore a great wig, had taken the j 
 
 degree of B.D., been Professor of Poetry in 
 the University of Oxford, and wast more- 
 over Poet Laureate, most worthy of that 
 office of all who have held it since Great 
 Ben, you would not in your mellow old 
 age, when your brother was Master of Win- 
 chester School, have delighted as you did in 
 hunting rats with the Winchester Boys. 
 
 O Thomas Warton ! you had and could 
 not but have a hearty liking for all that is 
 properly comic in the pithy old episcopal 
 comedy ! but that you should even seem to 
 disparage Latimer's Sermons is to me more 
 than most strange. For Latimer would 
 have gained for himself a great and enduring 
 name in the pulpit, if he had not been called 
 upon to bear the highest and holiest of all 
 titles. The pithy comedy no doubt was 
 written long before its author was con- 
 secrated Bishop of Bath and Wells, and we 
 may be sure that Bishop Still never reckoned 
 it among his sins. If its language were 
 rendered every where intelligible and its 
 dirtiness cleaned away, for there is nothing 
 worse to be removed, Gammer Gurton's 
 Needle might succeed in these days as a 
 farce. 
 
 Fuller says he had read in the Register of 
 Trinity College, Cambridge, this commend- 
 ation of Bishop Still that he was aya6o 
 <coDporpo0oe nee Collegia gravis out onerosus. 
 Still was Master of that College, as he had 
 been before of St. John's. 
 
 " What style," says Sir John Harrington, 
 "shall I use to set forth this Still, whom 
 (well nigh thirty years since) my reverend 
 tutor in Cambridge styled by this name, 
 'Divine Still,' who, when myself came to 
 him to sue for my grace to be bachelor, first 
 examined me strictly, and after answered 
 me kindly, that 'the grace he granted me 
 was not of grace but of merit;' who was 
 often content to grace my young exercises 
 with his venerable presence ; who, from that 
 time to this, hath given me some helps, more 
 hopes, all encouragements, in my best 
 studies ; to whom I never came, but I grew 
 more religious ; from whom I never went, 
 but I parted better instructed : Of him, 
 therefore, my acquaintance, my friend, my
 
 432 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 instructor, and last my diocesan ; if I speak 
 much it were not to be marvelled ; if I speak 
 frankly, it is not to be blamed ; and though 
 I speak partially, it were to be pardoned. 
 Yet to keep within my proportion, custom 
 and promise, in all these, I must say this 
 much of him ; his breeding was from his 
 childhood in good literature, and partly in 
 music *, which was counted in those days a 
 preparative to Divinity ; neither could any 
 be admitted to primam tonsuram, except he 
 could first bene le, bene con, bene can (as 
 they call it), which is to read well, to 
 construe well, and to sing well ; in which 
 last he hath good judgment, and I have 
 heard good music of voices in his house. 
 
 " In his full time, more full of learning, 
 he became Bachelor of Divinity, and after 
 Doctor ; and so famous for a Preacher, and 
 especially a disputer, that the learned'st 
 were even afraid to dispute with him ; and 
 he finding his own strength would not stick 
 to warn them in their arguments to take 
 heed to their answers, like a perfect fencer 
 that will tell beforehand in which button 
 he will give the venew, or like a cunning 
 chess-player that will appoint beforehand 
 with which pawn, and in what place, he will 
 give the mate. 
 
 " One trifling accident happened to his 
 Lordship at Bath, that I have thought since 
 of more consequence, and I tell him that I 
 never knew him non plus in argument, but 
 there. There was a craft's-man in Bath, 
 a recusant puritan, who, condemning our 
 Church, our Bishops, our sacraments, our 
 prayers, was condemned himself to die at 
 the assizes, but, at my request, Judge 
 Anderson reprieved him, and he was suffered 
 to remain at Bath Tipon bail. The Bishop 
 conferred with him, in hope to convert him, 
 and first, My Lord alleged for the authority 
 of the church, St. Augustine ! The Shoe- 
 maker answered, ' Austin was but a man.' 
 He (Still) produced, for the antiquity of 
 Bishops, the Fathers of the Council at Nice. 
 
 The Greek sense of ftwirizis is well known. Cf 
 Arist. Pol. lib. viii. c. iii. As Cicero says, " Sumra .m 
 eruditionem Graeci sitam censebant in nervorum vocum- 
 que cantibus," &c. Cic. Tuscul. i. c. ii. 
 
 He answered, ' They were also but men, 
 and might err.' ' Why then,' said the Bishop, 
 ' thou art but a man, and must, and dost err.' 
 ' No, Sir,' saith he, ' the Spirit bears witness 
 to my spirit ; I am the child of God.' 'Alas ! ' 
 said the Bishop, ' thy blind spirit will lead 
 thee to the gallows.' ' If I die,' saith he, 'in 
 the Lord's cause, I shall be a martyr.' The 
 Bishop turning to me, stirred as much to 
 pity as impatience; 'This man,' said he, 'is 
 not a sheep strayed from the fold, for such 
 may be brought in again on the shepherd's 
 shoulders, but this is like a wild buck broke 
 out of a park, whose pale is thrown down, 
 that flies the farther off", the more he is 
 hunted.' Yet this man, that stopped his 
 ears like the adder to the charms of the 
 Bishop, was after persuaded by a lay-man, 
 and grew conformable. But to draw to an 
 end ; in one question this Bishop, whom I 
 count an oracle for learning, would never 
 yet give me satisfaction, and that was, when 
 I asked him his opinion of witches. He 
 saith ' he knows other men's opinions, both 
 old and new writers, but could never so 
 digest them, to make them an opinion of his 
 own.' All I can get is ' this, that the Devil 
 is the old Serpent our enemy, that we pray 
 to be delivered from daily ; as willing to 
 have us think he can do too much as to have 
 us persuaded he doth nothing.'" 
 
 In the account of Webster and his 
 Writings, prefixed to his W^orks by their 
 able editor Mr. Dyce, that editor finds it 
 necessary to bestow much pains in showing 
 that John Webster the Dramatist and 
 Player, was not John Webster the Puritan 
 and Chaplain in the Army ; but, on the 
 other hand, Mr. Payne Collier, who is a 
 great authority in our stage literature, 
 contends that he was one and the same 
 person, and that when in the Prefatory 
 Address to his Saint's Guide, he speaks of 
 the " damnable condition" from which the 
 Lord in his wonderful mercy had brought 
 him, he could hardly mean anything but his 
 condition as a player. It remained then to 
 be argued, whether either of these persons 
 were the John Webster, Practitioner in 
 Physic and Chirurgery, who wrote or com-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 433 
 
 piled a work entitled Metalographia, a 
 volume of Sermons entitled The Judgment 
 set and the Books opened, and a tract called 
 Academiarum Examen, or the Examination 
 of Academies, wherein is discussed and ex- 
 amined the Matter, Method, and Customs of 
 Academic and Scholastic Learning, and the 
 insufficiency thereof discovered and laid 
 open : as also some expedients proposed for 
 the reforming of schools and the perfecting 
 and promoting of all kind of science. A 
 powerful Tract Mr. Dyce calls it ; and it 
 must have been thought of some importance 
 in its day, for it provoked an answer from 
 Seth Ward, afterwards Bishop of Salisbury, 
 and Wilkins, afterwards the well known 
 Bishop of Chester, (from whom Peter Wilkins 
 may perhaps have been named,) wrote in it 
 an Epistle to the Author. One of these 
 Websters wrote a remarkable book against 
 the then prevalent belief in witchcraft, though 
 he was himself a believer in astrology and 
 held that there are great and hidden virtues 
 in metals and precious stones, as they are by 
 Nature produced, by mystical Chemistry 
 prepared and exalted, or commixed and 
 insculped in their due and fit constellation. 
 Which of the John Websters was this ? If 
 it has not been satisfactorily ascertained, 
 whether there were one, two, three or four 
 John Websters after so much careful in- 
 vestigation by the most eminent bibliologists, 
 though it is not supposed that on the part of 
 any John Webster there was any design to 
 conceal himself and mystify the public, by 
 whom can the question be answered con- 
 cerning the authorship of this Opus, except 
 by me the Opifex, and those few persons 
 trusted and worthy of the trust, who are, 
 like me, secret as the grave ? 
 
 There is a history (and of no ordinary 
 value) of Great Britain from the Revolution 
 to the Accession of George T. written in 
 Latin by Alexander Cunningham, translated 
 from the Author's Manuscript by Dr. 
 William Thompson, and published in two 
 quarto volumes by Dr. Hollingbery in 1787. 
 That the Author was Minister for George 
 I. to the Venetian Republic is certain ; but 
 whether he were the Alexander Cunningham 
 
 that lived at the same time, whose editions 
 of Virgil and Horace are well known, and 
 whose reputation as a critic stood high 
 among the continental scholars of the last 
 century, is altogether doubtful. If they 
 were two persons, each was born in Scotland 
 and educated in Holland, each a friend and 
 favourite of Carstares, King William's con- 
 fidential secretary for Scotch affairs, each 
 a remarkably good Chess Player, each an 
 accomplished Latinist, and each concerned 
 in the education of John Duke of Argyle. 
 Upon weaker evidence, says Dr. Thompson, 
 than that which seems to prove the identity 
 of the two Cunninghams, decisions have been 
 given that have affected fortunes, fame, life, 
 posterity and all that is dear to mankind ; 
 and yet, notwithstanding these accumulated 
 coincidences, he comes at length to the con- 
 clusion, that there are circumstances which 
 seem incompatible with their identity, and 
 that probably they were different persons. 
 
 But what signifies it now to any one 
 whether certain books published in the 
 seventeenth century were written by one 
 and the same John Webster, or by four 
 persons of that name ? What signifies it 
 whether Alexander Cunningham the his- 
 torian was one and indivisible, like the 
 French Republic, or that there were two 
 Alexander Cunninghams, resembling each 
 other as much as the two Sosias of the 
 ancient drama, or the two Dromios and their 
 twin masters in the Comedy of Errors? 
 What signifies it to any creature upon 
 earth ? It may indeed afford matter for 
 inquiry in a Biographical Dictionary, or in 
 the Gentleman's Magazine, and by possibility 
 of the remotest kind, for a law-suit. And 
 can we wonder that an identity of names 
 has sometimes occasioned a singular con- 
 fusion of persons, and that Biographers and 
 Bibliographers should sometimes be thus at 
 fault, when we find that the same thing has 
 deceived the most unerring of all Messengers, 
 Death himself. 
 
 Thus it was. There was a certain man, 
 Curina by name, who lived in a village not 
 far from Hippo in the days of St. Augustine. 
 This man sickened and died; but because
 
 434 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 there seemed to be some faint and inter- 
 mitting appearances of life, his friends 
 delayed burying him for some days. Those 
 appearances at length ceased ; it could no 
 longer be doubted that he was indeed dead ; 
 when behold he opened his eyes, and desired 
 that a messenger might immediately be sent 
 to his neighbour and namesake Curina the 
 blacksmith, and inquire how he was. The 
 answer was that he had just expired. The 
 resuscitated Curina then related that he 
 himself had verily and indeed died, and that 
 his soul had been carried before the Judge 
 of the Dead, who had vehemently reproved 
 the Ministering Spirits that brought him 
 thither, seeing it was not for him but for 
 Curina the Blacksmith that they had been 
 sent. This was not only a joyful surprise 
 for the reprieved or replevied Curina, but a 
 most happy adventure in other respects. He 
 had not only an opportunity of seeing 
 Paradise in his excursion, but a friendly hint 
 was given him there, that as soon as his 
 health was restored he should repair to Hippo 
 and there receive baptism from St. Augus- 
 tine's hands. 
 
 When the wrong soul happens thus to be 
 summoned out of the body, Pope St. Gre- 
 gory the Great assures us that there is no 
 mistake ; and who shall question what the 
 Infallible Pope and Saint affirms ? " Peter," 
 saith he, in one of his Dialogues, " when 
 this happeneth, it is not, if it be well con- 
 sidered, any error, but an admonition. For 
 God of his great and bountiful mercy so 
 disposeth, that some after their death do 
 straightways return again to life, in order 
 that having seen the torments of Hell, which 
 before when they heard of they would not 
 believe, they may at least tremble at them 
 after they have with their own eyes beheld 
 them. For a certain Sclavonian who \vas a 
 Monk, and lived with me here in this city, 
 in my Monastery, used to tell me, that at 
 such time as he dwelt in the wilderness, he 
 knew one Peter, a Monk born in Spain, who 
 lived with him in the vast desert called 
 Evasa, which Peter (as he said) told him 
 how before he came to dwell in that place, 
 he by a certain sickness died, and was 
 
 straightway restored to life again, affirming 
 that he had seen the torments and innumer- 
 able places of Hell, and divers who were 
 mighty men in this world hanging in those 
 flames ; and that as himself was carried to 
 be thrown also into the same fire, suddenly 
 an Angel in a beautiful attire appeared, who 
 would not suffer him to be cast into those 
 torments, but spake unto him in this manner: 
 ' Go thy way back again, and hereafter 
 carefully look imto thyself how thou leadest 
 thy life!' after which words his body by 
 little and little became warm, and himself 
 waking out of the sleep of everlasting death, 
 reported all such things as had happened 
 about him ; after which time he bound 
 himself to such fasting and watching, that 
 though he had said nothing, yet his life and 
 conversation did speak what torments he 
 had seen and was afraid of; and so God's 
 merciful providence wrought in his temporal 
 death that he died not everlastingly. 
 
 " But because man's heart is passing 
 obdurate and hard, hereof it cometh that 
 though others have the like vision and see 
 the same pains, yet do they not always keep 
 the like profit. For the honourable man 
 Stephen, whom you knew very well, told me 
 of himself, that at such time as he was upon 
 business, resident in the City of Constan- 
 tinople, he fell sick and died : and when they 
 sought for a surgeon to bowel him and to 
 embalm his body and could not get any, he 
 lay nnburied all the night following ; in 
 which space his soul was carried to the dun- 
 geon of Hell, where he saw many things 
 which before when he heard of, he had little 
 believed. But when he was brought before 
 the Judge that sat there, the Judge would 
 not admit him to his presence, saying, 'I 
 commanded not this man to be brought, but 
 Stephen the Smith!' upon which words he 
 was straightway restored to life, and Stephen 
 the Smith, that dwelt hard by, at that very 
 hour departed this life, whose deatli did show 
 that the words which he had heard were 
 most true. But though the foresaid Stephen 
 escaped death in this manner at that time, 
 yet three years since, in that mortality which 
 lamentably wasted this city, (and in which,
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 43i 
 
 as you know, men with their corporal eyes 
 did behold arrows that came from Heaven, 
 which did strike divers,) the same man ended 
 his days. At which time a certain soldier 
 being also brought to the point of death, his 
 soul was in such sort carried out of his 
 body that he lay void of all sense and feel- 
 ing, but coming quickly again to himself, he 
 told them that were present what strange 
 things he had seen. For he said, (as many 
 report who knew it very well,) that he saw 
 a Bridge, under which a black and smoaky 
 river did run that had a filthy and intoler- 
 able smell ; but upon the further side thereof 
 there Avere pleasant green meadows full of 
 sweet flowers ; in which also there were 
 divers companies of men apparelled in white; 
 and such a delicate savour there was that 
 the fragrant odour thereof did give wonder- 
 ful content to all them that dwelt and walked 
 in that place. Divers particular mansions 
 also there were, all shining with brightness 
 and light, and especially one magnifical and 
 sumptuous house, which was a-building, the 
 bricks whereof seemed to be of Gold ; but 
 whose it was that he knew not. 
 
 " There were also upon the bank of the 
 foresaid river certain houses, but some of 
 them the stinking vapour which rose from 
 the river did touch, and some other it 
 touched not at all. Now those that desired 
 to pass over the foresaid Bridge were subject 
 to this manner of trial ; if any that was 
 wicked attempted to go over, down he fell 
 into that dark and stinking river ; but those 
 that were just and not hindered by sin, 
 securely and easily passed over to those plea- 
 sant and delicate places. There he said also 
 that he saw Peter, who was Steward of the 
 Pope's family, and died some four years since, 
 thrust into a most filthy place, where he 
 was bound and kept down with a great 
 weight of iron ; and inquiring why he was 
 so used, he received this answer, which all 
 we that knew his life can affirm to be most 
 true ; for it was told him that he suffered 
 that pain, because when himself was upon 
 any occasion to punish others, that he did it 
 more upon cruelty than to show his obedi- 
 ence ; of which his merciless disposition none 
 
 that knew him can be ignorant. There also 
 he said that he saw a Priest whom he knew, 
 who coming to the foresaid Bridge passed 
 over with as great security as he had lived 
 in this world sincerely. 
 
 " Likewise upon the same Bridge he said 
 that he did see this Stephen whom before 
 we spake of, who, being about to go over, 
 his foot slipped, and half his body hanging 
 beside the Bridge, he was of certain terrible 
 men that rose out of the river drawn by the 
 legs downward, and by certain other white 
 and beautiful persons he was by the arms 
 pulled upward, and while they strove thus, 
 the wicked spirits to draw him downward 
 and the good to lift him upward, he that 
 beheld all this strange sight returned to life, 
 not knowing in conclusion what became of 
 him. By which miraculous vision we learn 
 this thing concerning the life of Stephen, to 
 wit, that in him the sins of the flesh did strive 
 with his works of alms. For in that he was 
 by the legs drawn downward, and by the 
 arms plucked upward, apparent it is, that 
 both he loved to give alms, and yet did not 
 perfectly resist the sins of the flesh which did 
 pull him downward ; but in that secret ex- 
 amination of the Supreme Judge, which of 
 them had the victory, that neither we know 
 nor he that saw it. Yet more certain it is 
 that the same Stephen after that he had seen 
 the places of Hell, as before was said, and 
 returned again to his body, did never per- 
 fectly amend his former wicked life, seeing 
 many years after he departed this world 
 leaving us in doubt whether he were saved 
 or damned." 
 
 Hereupon Peter the Deacon said to Pope 
 St. Gregory the Great, " What, I beseech 
 you, was meant by the building of that house 
 in those places of delight, with bricks of 
 gold ? For it seemeth very ridiculous that 
 in the next life we should have need of any 
 such kind of metal." Pope Gregory the 
 Great answered and said, "What man of 
 sense can think so ? But by that which was 
 shown there, (whosoever he was for whom 
 that house was built,) we learn plainly what 
 virtuous works he did in this world ; for he 
 that by plenty of alms doth merit the reward 
 
 F F 2
 
 436 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 of eternal light, certain it is that he doth 
 build his house with gold. For the same 
 soldier who had this vision said also, (which 
 I forgot to tell you before,) that old men 
 and young, girls and boys, did carry those 
 bricks of gold for the building of that house, 
 by which we learn that those to whom we 
 show compassion in this world do labour for 
 us in the next. There dwelt hard by us a 
 religious man called Deusdedit, who was a 
 shoemaker, concerning whom another saw 
 by revelation that he had in the next world 
 a house a-building, but the workmen thereof 
 laboured only upon the Saturday ; who 
 afterward inquiring more diligently how he 
 lived, found that whatsoever he got by his 
 labour all the week, and was not spent upon 
 necessary provision of meat and apparel, all 
 that upon the Saturday he bestowed upon 
 the poor in alms, at St. Peter's Church ; and 
 therefore see what reason there was that 
 his building went forward upon the Satur- 
 day." 
 
 It was a very reasonable question that 
 Peter the Deacon asked of Gregory the 
 Great, when he desired to know how it came 
 to pass that certain persons who were sum- 
 moned into the other world, were told when 
 they got there that they were not the per- 
 sons who had been sent for. And it was not 
 ill answered by the Pope that if properly 
 considered, this when it happeneth is not an 
 error, but an admonition. Yet that there 
 was a mistake in the two cases of Curina 
 and Stephen and their respective namesakes 
 and blacksmiths cannot be disputed, a 
 mistake on the part of the Ministering 
 Spirits. This may be accounted for by sup- 
 posing that inferior Spirits were employed in 
 both cases, those for whom they were sent 
 not being of a condition to be treated with 
 extraordinary respect on such an occasion. 
 Comets were never kindled to announce the 
 death of common men, and the lowest 
 Spirits might be deputed to take charge of 
 the Blacksmiths. But Azrael himself makes 
 no mistakes. 
 
 Five things the Mahommedans say are 
 
 known to no created Beings, only to the 
 
 I Creator ; the time of the Day of Judgment ; 
 
 the time of rain ; whether an unborn child 
 shall be male or female ; what shall happen 
 to-morrow, and when any person is to die. 
 These the Arabians call the five keys of 
 secret knowledge, according to a tradition of 
 their Prophet, to whom questions of this 
 kind were propounded by Al Hareth Ebnn 
 Amru. But it may be inferred from a tra- 
 dition which Al Beidawi has preserved that 
 one of these keys is committed to the Angel 
 of Death, when he is sent out in person to 
 execute the irrevocable decree. 
 
 The Arabians tell us that Solomon was 
 exercising his horses one day when the hour 
 for evening prayer was announced. Imme- 
 diately he alighted, and would not allow 
 either his own horse or any other in the field 
 to be taken to the stables, but gave orders 
 that they should be turned loose, being from 
 thenceforth dedicated to the Almighty's 
 service, which the Arabians we are told call 
 Rebath f. sebil Allth. To reward the king 
 for this instance of his piety, Allah gave him 
 a mild and pleasant, but strong wind, to be 
 at his orders from that time forth and carry 
 him whithersoever he would. 
 
 Once on a time Azrael passed by Solomon 
 in a visible form, and in passing looked 
 earnestly at a certain person who was sitting 
 with the king. That person not liking the 
 earnestness and the expression of his look, 
 asked Solomon who it was, and Solomon re- 
 plied it was the Angel of Death. He looks 
 as if he wanted me, said the affrighted man ; 
 I beseech you, therefore, order the Wind to 
 carry me instantly to India ! Solomon spake 
 the word, and no sooner was it spoken, than 
 the Wind took him up and set him down 
 where he desired to be. The Angel then 
 said to Solomon, I looked so earnestly at that 
 Man out of wonder, because that being com- 
 manded to take his soul in India, I found 
 him here with thee in Palestine. 
 
 But, my good Reader, you and I must 
 make no tarriance now with Solomon Ben 
 Daoud, wisest of men and mightiest of Magi- 
 cians, nor with St. Gregory the Great, Pope 
 and Punster, and his friend Peter the Dea- 
 con, though you and I might delight in the 
 Pope's veracious stories as much as good
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 437 
 
 Peter himself. We must wind up the 
 volume * with one Intel-chapter more. 
 
 Saggio e' il consigliator che sol ricorre 
 A quell' ultimo Jin, che in cor sifisse, 
 Qufl sol rimira, e tutio I'altro abborre, 
 Come al suo proprio danno conscntisse ; 
 ' chifard in tal guisa, rarofia 
 Che d' incontrare il ver perda la via. 
 
 IXTERCHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE AUTHOR DIFFERS IN OPINION FROM SIR 
 EGERTON BRTDGES, AND THE EMPEROR 
 JULIAN. SPEAKS CHARITABLY OF THAT 
 EMPEROR, VINDICATES PROTEUS FROM HIS 
 CENSURE, AND TALKS OF POSTHUMOUS 
 TRAVELS AND EXTRA MUNDANE EXCUR- 
 SIONS, AND THE PUBLIC LIBRARY IN LIM- 
 BOLAND. 
 
 Petulant. If he says black's black, if I have a humour 
 to say it is blue let that pass. All's one 
 for that. If 1 have a humour to prove it, 
 it must be granted. 
 
 IVitwould. Not positively must, But it may, it may. 
 
 Petulant Yes, it positively must, upon proof positive. 
 
 Witwould. Ay, upon proof positive it must ; but upon 
 proof presumptive it only may. That's a 
 logical distinction now. CONGREVE. 
 
 "!N the ignotum pro magnijico" says Umbra, 
 " resides a' humble individual's best chance 
 of being noticed or attended to at all." Yet 
 many are the attempts which have been 
 made, and are making, in America too as 
 well as in Great Britain, by Critics, Critickins 
 and Criticasters, (for there are of all de- 
 grees,) to take from me the Ignotum, and 
 force upon me the Magnificum in its stead, 
 to prove that I am not the humble, and 
 happily unknown disciple, friend, and, 
 however unworthy, memorialist of Dr. Dove, 
 a nameless individual as regards the public, 
 holding the tenour of my noiseless way con- 
 tentedly towards that oblivion which sooner 
 or later must be the portion of us all ; but 
 that I am what is called a public character, 
 a performer upon the great stage, whom 
 every one is privileged to hiss or to applaud ; 
 myself a Doctor, LL.D. according to the 
 old form, according to the present usage 
 D.C.L. a Doctor upon whom that trili- 
 
 A'cfc. This refer* to the former Editions in seven 
 oUinins. 
 
 t L' AVARCHIDE. 
 
 teral dignity was conferred in full theatre, 
 amid thundering peals of applauding hands, 
 and who heard himself addressed that day 
 in Phillimorean voice and fluent latinity by 
 all eulogistic epithets ending in issimus or 
 errimus, I an issimus! I an errimus! No 
 other issimus than that Ipsissimus ego which 
 by these critics I am denied to be. 
 
 These critics will have it that I am among 
 living authors what the ever memorable 
 Countess of Henneberg was among women ; 
 that I have more tails to my name than the 
 greatest Bashaw bears among his standards, 
 or the largest cuttle fish to his headless body 
 or bodyless head ; that I have executed 
 works more durable than brass, and loftier 
 than the Pyramids, and that I have touched 
 the stars with my sublime forehead, what 
 could have saved my poor head from being 
 moonstruck if I had. 
 
 Believe them not, O Reader ! I never exe- 
 cuted works in any material more durable 
 than brass, I never built any thing like a 
 pyramid, Absurdo de tamaha grandeza no se 
 ha escrito en letras de molde. And as for the 
 alleged proofs, which, depriving me of my 
 individuality and divesting me even of entity, 
 would consubstantiate me with the most 
 prolific of living writers, no son mas queayre 
 6 menos que ayre, uiia sombra 6 menus que 
 sombra, pues son nada, y nada es lo que nunca 
 ha tenido ser verdadero. \ " It is in Vain," as 
 Mr. Carlyle says when apostrophising Mira- 
 beau the father upon his persevering en- 
 deavours to make his son resemble him in 
 all points of character, and be as it were his 
 second self, " it is in vain. He will not be 
 Thou, but must and will be himself, an- 
 other than Thou." In like manner, It is in 
 vain, say I : I am not, and will not and can- 
 not be any body but myself; nor is it of any 
 consequence to any human being who or 
 what I am, though perhaps those persons 
 may think otherwise who say that " they de- 
 light more in the shadow of something than ! 
 to converse with a nothing in substance." j 
 
 Lord Shaftesbury has said that " of all the 
 artificial relations formed between mankind, 
 
 NICOLAS PERES. 
 
 llUULOTHIiUMBO.
 
 438 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 the most capricious and variable is that of 
 Author and Reader." He may be right in 
 this ; but when he says 'tis evident that an 
 Author's art and labour are for his Reader's 
 sake alone, I cannot assent to the position. 
 For though I have a great and proper re- 
 .gard for my readers, and entertain all due 
 respect for them, it is not for their sake alone 
 that my art and labour have been thus em- 
 ployed, not for their benefit alone, still 
 less for their amusement, that this Opus has 
 been edified. Of the parties concerned in 
 it, the Readers, sooth to say, are not those 
 who have been either first or second in niy 
 consideration. The first and paramount ob- 
 ject was to preserve the Doctor's memory ; 
 the second to gratify myself by so doing ; 
 for what higher gratification can there be 
 than in the performance of a debt of grati- 
 tude, one of those debts truly to be called 
 immense, which 
 
 A grateful mind 
 
 By owing owes not, but still pays, at once 
 Indebted and discharged.* 
 
 That there are some readers who would 
 think themselves beholden, though in far less 
 degree, to me, as I am to the revered sub- 
 ject of these memorials, was nu after consi- 
 deration. 
 
 Sir Egerton Brydges says he never took 
 up a book which he could read without 
 wishing *to know the character and history 
 of the author. "But what is it," he says, 
 " to tell the facts that he was born, married 
 or lived single and died ? What is common 
 to all can convey no information. We desire 
 to know an author's feelings, his temper, his 
 disposition, his modes of thinking, his habits ; 
 nay even his person, his voice, and his mode 
 of expressing himself, the society in which 
 he has lived, and the images and lessons 
 which attended upon his cradle." Most of 
 this, Sir Egerton, you can never know other- 
 wise than by guess work. Yet niethinks my 
 feelings, my temper, my disposition, and my 
 modes of thinking are indicated here, as far 
 as a book can indicate them. You have 
 yourself said ; " if it could be proved that 
 
 * MILTON. 
 
 what one writes, is no index to what he 
 thinks and feels, then it would be of little 
 value and no interest ;" but you are confi- 
 dent that such delusive writers always be- 
 tray themselves; " Sincerity," you say, "has 
 always a breath and spirit of its own." Yes, 
 Sir Egerton, and if there is not that spirit in 
 these volumes, there is no vitality in them ; 
 if they have not that breath of life, they 
 must be still-born. 
 
 Yet I cannot agree with you in the opinion 
 that those who make a false display of fine 
 feelings, whether in prose or verse, always 
 betray themselves. The cant of sentimenta- 
 lism passes as current with the Reading 
 Public, as cant of a different description 
 with those who call themselves the Religious 
 Public. Among the latter, the proudest and 
 the most uncharitable people in this nation 
 are to be found ; and in proof that the most 
 intensely selfish of the human race may be 
 sentimentalists, and super-sentimentalists, it 
 is sufficient to name Rousseau. 
 
 Perhaps some benevolent and sagacious 
 Reader may say to me as Randolph said to 
 his friend Owen Feltham, 
 
 Thy book I read, and read it with delight, 
 Resolving so to live as thou dost write ; 
 And yet I guess, thy life thy book produces 
 And but expresses thy peculiar uses. 
 
 But the Reader who should apply to me 
 and my Opus the French lines, 
 
 A Vauteur on connoit rout/rage, 
 A I'ouvrage on connoit Vauteur, 
 
 though he may be equally benevolent, would 
 not be equally sagacious. It is not for mere 
 caprice that I remain Ignotus and Innomi- 
 uabilis ; not a Great Unknown, an Igiioto- 
 lemagne, but simply an Unknown, "Ayvworoc, 
 Ylnconnu, Sconciuto, the Encubierto, the 
 Desconocido 
 
 This precious secret let me hide. 
 I'll tell you every thing beside.t 
 
 Critics, we know, affect always to have 
 strange intelligence ; but though they should 
 say to me 
 
 You may 
 
 As soon tie up the sunbeams in a net 
 As keep yourself unknown t, 
 
 + COTTON. + SHIBIEY.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 439 
 
 I shall still continue in darkness inscrutable. 
 Nor am I to be moved from this determina- 
 tion by the opinion which the Emperor 
 Julian expressed concerning Proteus, when 
 he censured him for changing himself into 
 divers forms, lest men should compel him to 
 manifest his knowledge. For, said Julian, 
 "if Proteus were indeed wise, and knew, 
 as Homer says, many things, I praise him 
 indeed for his knowledge, but I do not 
 commend his disposition ; seeing that he 
 performed the part, not of a philanthropist, 
 but rather of an impostor, in concealing 
 himself lest he should be useful to man- 
 kind." 
 
 This was forming a severer opinion of the 
 Ancient of the Deep, the old Prophet of the 
 Sea, than I would pronounce upon Julian 
 himself, though the name of Apostate clings 
 to him. Unhappy as he was in the most 
 important of all concerns, he was at least a 
 true believer in a false religion, and there- 
 fore a better man than some of those kings 
 who have borne the title of Most Christian 
 
 or Most Catholic. I wish he had kept his 
 beard clean ! But our follies and weak- 
 nesses, when they are nothing worse, die 
 with us, and are not like unrepented sins to 
 be raised up in judgment. The beard of the 
 imperial Philosopher is not populous now. 
 And in my posthumous travels, if in some 
 extramundane excursion I should meet him 
 in that Limbo which is not a place of punish- 
 ment, but where odd persons as well as odd 
 things are to be found, and in the Public 
 Library of that Limbo we should find a cer- 
 tain Opus conspicuously placed and in high 
 repute, translated, not into the Limbo tongue 
 alone, but into all languages, and the Impe- 
 rial Philosopher should censure the still 
 incognoscible Author for still continuing in 
 incognoscibility for the same reason that he 
 blamed . the Ancient of the Deep, I should 
 remind him of the Eleusinian Mysteries, 
 whisper the Great Decasyllabon in his ear, 
 and ask him whether there are not some 
 secrets which it is neither lawful nor fitting 
 to disclose.
 
 THE DOCTOR, 
 
 1'AKT THE S ECO XI)
 
 " There is a physiognomy in the Titles of Books no less than in the faces 
 of men, by which a skilful observer will as well know what to expect from 
 the one as the othr." Butler's Remains.
 
 TO THE SECOND PART. 
 
 INVENIAS ETIAM DISJECTI MEMBRA POKT.S:. 
 
 FN the distribution of the lamented Southey's 
 literary property, the History of the Brazils, 
 his much treasured MS. History of Portugal, 
 The Doctor, &c. and the MS. materials for 
 its completion, fell to the share of Edith 
 May Warter, his eldest child, and, as he 
 used to call her, his right hand, to whom 
 he addressed the Dedication of the Tale of 
 Paraguay, and to whom he commenced a 
 little Poem of which the lines following are 
 almost the last, if not the very last, he ever 
 wrote in verse. 
 
 O daughter dear, who bear'st no longer now 
 
 Thy Father's name, and for the chalky flats 
 
 Of Sussex hast exchanged thy native land 
 
 Of lakes and mountains, neither change of place, 
 
 Condition, and all circumstantial things, 
 
 Nor new relations, and access of cares 
 
 Unfelt before, have alienated thee 
 
 Nor wean'd thy heart from this beloved spot, 
 
 Thy birth place, and so long thy happy home ! 
 
 The present portion of " The Doctor, &c." 
 is drawn up from the MS. materials alluded 
 to, as nearly as possible in the order the 
 Author had intended, and the seventh and 
 concluding volume is in the press and will 
 shortly be published.* 
 
 The whole of the MS. sheets, previous to 
 being sent to the press, were cautiously ex- 
 amined by his no less amiable and excellent, 
 than highly gifted Widow, who, at the time, 
 was staying with us on a visit at West- 
 Tarring. Had the lamented Southey con- 
 tinued the work, it was his intention, in this 
 volume, to have advanced a step in the 
 story, and the Interchapters, no doubt, 
 would have been enlarged, according to 
 custom. His habit was, as he said, " to lay 
 the timbers of them, and to jot down, from 
 time to time, remarks serious or jocose, as 
 they occurred to him." Full readily would 
 this holy and humble man of heart have ac- 
 ceded to the truth conveyed in these lines 
 
 * This refers to the Edition in Seven Volumes, 8vo. 
 
 from Martin Tupper's Proverbial Philo- 
 sophy, and none the less for their dactylic 
 cadence. 
 
 There is a grave-faced folly, and verily a laughter loving 
 
 wisdom ; 
 
 And what, if surface judges account it vain frivolity ? 
 There is indeed an evil in excess, and a field may lie 
 
 fallow too long ; 
 Yet merriment is often as a froth, that mantleth on the 
 
 strong mind : 
 And note thou this for a verity, the subtlest thinker 
 
 when alone, 
 From ease of thoughts unbent, will laugh the loudest 
 
 with his fellows : 
 
 And well is the loveliness of wisdom mirrored in a cheer- 
 ful countenance, 
 
 Justly the deepest pools are proved by dimpling eddies ; 
 For that, a true philosophy commandeth an innocent life, 
 And the unguilty spirit is lighter than a linnet's heart ; 
 Yea, there is no cosmetic like a holy conscience ; 
 The eye is bright with trust, the cheek bloomed over 
 
 with affection, 
 The brow un wrinkled with a care, and the lip triumphant 
 
 in its gladness. f 
 
 The only liberty taken with the original 
 MS. is the omission of, now and then a 
 name, or even a paragraph, which might 
 have given pain to the living. Such pas- 
 sages were thrown off playfully, and were, 
 as Mrs. Southey can testify, erased by the 
 author continually. It was no custom of 
 Southey to cast " fire-brands, arrows, and 
 death," and to say, " Am I not in sport ? " J 
 
 It only remains to add that the Editor has 
 carefully verified all references, that he is 
 responsible for the headings of the chapters 
 (some few excepted,) for the Mottoes to 
 Chapters CLXXX. and CLXXXL, and 
 for the casual foot notes. 
 
 JOHN WOOD WARTER. 
 
 Vicarage House, 
 West-Tarring, Nov. 'Kith, 1846. 
 
 t Of Ridicule, 1st Series. On my acquainting Mrs. 
 Southey with my intention of quoting these lines, she 
 wrote me word back : "That very passage I had noted, 
 as singularly applicable to him we knew so well, whom 
 the world, the children of this generation, knew so 
 little 1 " 
 
 % Prov. xxvi. 18, 19.
 
 The ancient sage who did so long maintain 
 
 That bodies die, but souls return again, 
 
 With all the births and deaths he had in store, 
 
 Went out Pythagoras and came no more. 
 
 And modern Asgill, whose capricious thought 
 
 Is yet with stores of wilder notions fraught, 
 
 Too soon convinced, shall yield that fleeting breath, 
 
 Which play'd so idly with the darts of death. 
 
 PRIOR. 
 
 I swell with my imaginations, 
 
 Like a tall ship, bound out for the Fortunate Islands ; 
 Top and top-gallant ! my flags, and my figaries, 
 Upon me, with a lusty gale of wind 
 Able to rend my sails. I shall o'errnn 
 And sink thy little bark of understanding 
 In my career. 
 
 SHIRLEY. 
 
 Tu as icy dequoy faire un grand repas : la sotise, Pegare- 
 ment, le desordre, la negligence, la paresse,et miiles Attires 
 defauts cacher a man aveuglement, ou a man ignorance, 
 sont term's en piramide et plats renforcez. Gobe, gobe, 
 man cher Lecteur a ton aise ! qu'il ne te reste ny faim ny 
 appetit, puis que tu pens satisfaire I'un et Fautre., et que 
 tu as tout, Abastanza, comme dissnt les Italiens ; c'est a 
 dire presque a gogo. 
 
 LA PKECIEUSE. 
 
 Let the looks and noses of judges hover thick, so they 
 bring the brains ; or if they do not, I care not When 1 
 suffered it to go abroad, I departed with my right; and 
 now, so secure an interpreter I am of my chance, that 
 neither praise nor dispraise shall affect me. 
 
 BEN JONSON. 
 
 Deep-reaching wits, here is no deep stream for you to 
 angle in. Moralizers, you that wrest a never-meant 
 meaning out of every thing, applying all things to the 
 present time, keep your attention for the common stage ; 
 for here are no quips in characters for you to read 1 Vain 
 glozers, gather what you will 1 Spite, spell backward 
 what thou canst ! 
 
 NASH, Summer's Last Will. 
 
 MSS. MOTTOES FOR THE DOCTOR, &c.
 
 THE D C T R, 
 
 &c. 
 
 PART THE SECOND. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXIL 
 
 DESCARTES' NOTION CONCERNING THE PRO- 
 LONGATION OF LIFE. A SICILIAN PROPOSAL 
 FOR BREEDING UP CHILDREN TO BE IM- 
 MORTAL. ASGILL'S ARGUMENT AGAINST 
 
 THE NECESSITY OF DYING. 
 
 O harmless Death ! whom still the valiant brave, 
 The wise expect, the sorrowful invite ; 
 
 And all the good embrace, who know the Grave 
 A short dark passage to eternal light. 
 
 SIR WILLIAM DAVBNANT. 
 
 SIR KENELM DIGBY went to Holland for 
 the purpose of conversing with Descartes, 
 who was then living in retirement at Egmont. 
 Speculative knowledge, Digby said to him, 
 was, no doubt, a refined and agreeable pur- 
 suit, but it was too uncertain and too useless 
 to be made a man's occupation, life being so 
 short that one has scarcely time to acquire 
 well the knowledge of necessary things. It 
 would be far more worthy of a person like 
 Descartes, he observed, who so well under- 
 stood the construction of the human frame, if 
 he would apply himself to discover means 
 of prolonging its duration, rather than at- 
 tach himself to the mere speculation of philo- 
 sophy. Descartes made answer that this 
 was a subject on which he had already medi- 
 tated ; that as for rendering man immortal, 
 it was what he would not venture to promise, 
 but that he was very sure he could prolong 
 his life to the standard of the Patriarchs. 
 
 Saint-Evremond, to whom Digby repeated 
 this, says that this opinion of Descartes was 
 well known both tohis friends in Holland and 
 in France. The Abbe Picot, his disciple and 
 his martyr, was so fully persuaded of it, that 
 
 it was long before he would believe his master 
 was dead, and when at length unwillingly 
 convinced of what it was no longer possible 
 to deny or doubt, he exclaimed, que e'en etoit 
 faitet que la fin du Genre humain alloit venir! 
 A certain Sicilian physician who com- 
 mented upon Galen, was more cautious if 
 not more modest than Descartes. He affirm- 
 ed that it was certainly possible to render 
 men immortal, but then they must be bred 
 up from the earliest infancy with that view ; 
 and he undertook so to train and render 
 them, if they were fit subjects. Poor 
 children ! if it had indeed been possible thus 
 to divest them of their reversionary interest 
 in Heaven. 
 
 A much better way of abolishing death 
 
 was that which Asgill imagined, when he 
 
 persuaded himself from Scripture that it is 
 
 j in our power to go to Heaven without any 
 
 i such unpleasant middle passage. Asgill's is 
 
 i the worst case of intolerance that has occur- 
 
 i red in this country since persecution has 
 
 j ceased to affect life or member. 
 
 This remarkable man was born about the 
 middle of the seventeenth century, and bred 
 to the Law in Lincoln's Inn, under Mr. 
 Eyre, a very eminent lawyer of those days. 
 In 1698 he published a treatise with this 
 i title " Several assertions proved, in order 
 i to create another species of money than Gold 
 and Silver," and also an " Essay on a Regis- 
 try for Titles of Lands." Both subjects 
 seem to denote that on these points he was 
 j considerably advanced beyond his age. But 
 j the whole strength of his mind was devoted 
 to his profession, in which he had so com-
 
 446 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 pletely trammelled and drilled his intellectual 
 powers, that he at length acquired a habit j 
 of looking at all subjects in a legal point of 
 view. He could find flaws in an hereditary 
 title to the crown. But it was not to seek 
 flaws that he studied the Bible ; he studied 
 it to see whether he could not claim under 
 the Old and New Testament something more 
 than was considered to be his share. The 
 result of this examination was, that in the 
 year 1700 he published " An Argument 
 proving that according to the Covenant of 
 Eternal Life revealed in the Scriptures Man 
 may be translated from hence into that Eter- 
 nal Life without passing through death, 
 although the Human Nature of Christ him- 
 self could not be thus translated till he had 
 passed through death." 
 
 That the old motto (says he), worn upon 
 tomb-stones, " Death is the Gate of Life," 
 is a lie, by which men decoy one another into 
 death, taking it to be a thoroughfare into 
 Eternal Life, whereas it is just so far out of 
 the way. For die when we will, and be 
 buried where we will, and lie in the grave 
 as long as we will, we must all return from 
 thence, and stand again upon the Earth 
 before we can ascend into the Heavens. 
 Hinc itur ad astra. He admitted that " this 
 custom of the world to die hath gained 
 such a prevalency over our minds by pre- 
 possessing us of the necessity of death, that 
 it stands ready to swallow his argument 
 whole without digesting it." But the domi- 
 nion of death, he said, is supported by our 
 fear of it, by which it hath bullied the world 
 to this day. Yet " the custom of the World 
 to die is no argument one way or other;" 
 however, because he knew that custom itself 
 is admitted as an evidence of title, upon 
 presumption that such custom had once a 
 reasonable commencement, and that this 
 reason doth continue, it was incumbent upon 
 him to answer this Custom by showing the 
 time and reason of its commencement, and 
 that the reason was determined. 
 
 " First then," says he, " I do admit the 
 custom or possession of Death over the 
 world to be as followeth : that Death did 
 reign from Adam to Moses by an uninter- 
 
 rupted possession over all men, women and 
 children, created or born, except one breach 
 made upon it in that time by Enoch ; and 
 hath reigned from Moses unto this day by 
 the like uninterrupted possession, except one 
 other breach made upon it in this time by 
 Elijah. And this is as strong a possession 
 as can be alledged against me. 
 
 " The religion of the World now is that 
 Man is born to die. But from the beginning 
 it was not so, for Man was made to live. 
 God made not Death till Man brought it 
 upon himself by his delinquency. Adam 
 stood as fair for Life as Death, and fairer 
 too, because he was in the actual possession 
 of Life, as Tenant thereof at the Will of 
 God, and had an opportunity to have made 
 that title perpetual by the Tree of Life, 
 which stood before him with the Tree of 
 Knowledge of Good and Evil. And here 
 'tis observable how the same act of man is 
 made the condition both of his life and death: 
 ' put forth thy hand and pull and eat and die,' 
 or ' put forth thy hand and pull and eat and 
 live for ever.' 'Tis not to be conceived that 
 there was any physical virtues in either of 
 these Trees whereby to cause life or death ; 
 but God having sanctified them by those 
 two different names, he was obliged to make 
 good his. own characters of them, by com- 
 manding the whole Creation to act in such 
 a manner as that Man should feel the effects 
 of this word, according to which of the 
 Trees he first put forth his hand. And it is 
 yet more strange, that man having life and 
 death set before him at the same time and 
 place, and both to be had upon the same 
 condition, that he should single out his own 
 death, and leave the Tree of Life untouched. 
 And what is further strange, even after his 
 election of death be had an interval of time 
 before his expulsion out of Paradise, to have 
 retrieved his fate by putting forth his hand 
 to the Tree of Life ; and yet he omitted 
 this too ! 
 
 " But by all this it is manifest that as the 
 form or person of man in his first creation 
 was capable of eternal life without dying, 
 so the fall of man, which happened to him 
 after his creation, hath not disabled his per-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 447 
 
 son from that capacity of eternal life. And, 
 therefore, durst Man even then have broken 
 through the Cherubim and flaming sword, ! 
 or could he now any way come at the Tree ! 
 of Life, he must yet live for ever, notwith- 
 standing his sin committed in Paradise and 
 his expulsion out of it. But this Tree of 
 Life now seems lost to Man ; and so he 
 remains under the curse of that other Tree, 
 in the day that thou eatest thereof thou 
 shalt die.' Which sentence of the Law is 
 the cause of the death of Man, and was the 
 commencement of the Custom of Death in 
 the World, and by the force of this Law 
 Death has kept the possession (before ad- 
 mitted) to this day. 
 
 " By his act of delinquency and the sen- 
 tence upon it, Adam stood attainted and 
 became a dead man in law, though he was 
 not executed till about nine hundred years 
 afterwards." Lawyer as Asgill was, and 
 legally as he conducts his whole extraor- 
 dinary argument, he yet offers a moral ex- 
 tenuation of Adam's offence. Eve after her 
 eating and Adam before his eating, were, 
 he says, in two different states, she in the 
 state of Death, and he in the state of Life ; 
 and thereby his was much the harder case. 
 For she by her very creation was so much 
 a part of himself that he could not be happy 
 while she was miserable. The loss of her 
 happiness so much affected him by sympathy 
 that all his other enjoyments could do him 
 no good ; and, therefore, since he thought it 
 impossible for her to return into the same 
 state with him, he chose, rather than be 
 parted from her, to hazard himself in the 
 same state with her. Asgill then resumes 
 his legal view of the case : the offence, he 
 says, was at last joint and several ; the sen- 
 tence fell upon Mankind as descendants from 
 these our common ancestors, and so upon 
 Christ himself. And this is the reason why 
 in the genealogy of our Saviour as set down 
 by two Evangelists his legal descent by 
 Joseph is only counted upon, " because all 
 legal descents are accounted from the father." 
 As he was born of a Virgin to preserve his 
 nature from the defilement of humanity, so 
 was he of a Virgin espoused to derive upon 
 
 himself the curse of the Law by a 
 father : for which purpose it was necessary 
 that the birth of Christ should, in the terms 
 of the Evangelists, be on this wise and no 
 otherwise. And hence the Genealogy of 
 Christ is a fundamental part of Eternal Life. 
 
 The reader will soon perceive that tech- 
 nically as Asgill treated his strange argu- 
 ment, he was sincerely and even religiously 
 convinced of its importance and its truth. 
 " Having shewn," he proceeds, " how this 
 Law fell upon Christ, it is next incumbent 
 on me to shew that it is taken away by his 
 death, and consequently that the long pos- 
 session of Death over the World can be no 
 longer a title against Life. But when I say 
 this Law is taken away, I don't mean that 
 the words of it are taken away ; for they 
 remain with us to this day, and being matter 
 of Record must remain for ever ; but that 
 it is satisfied by other matter of Record, by 
 which the force of it is gone. Law satis- 
 fied is no Law, as a debt satisfied is no debt. 
 Now the specific demand of the Law was 
 Death ; and of a man ; and a man made 
 under the Law. Christ qualified himself to 
 be so : and as such suffered under it, thus 
 undergoing the literal sentence. This he 
 might have done and not have given the 
 Law satisfaction, for millions of men before 
 him had undergone it, and yet the Law was 
 nevertheless dissatisfied with them and others, 
 but He declared It is finished before he 
 gave up the ghost. By the dignity of his 
 person he gave that satisfaction which it was 
 impossible for mankind to give." 
 
 For the Law, he argues, was not such a 
 civil contract that the breach of it could be 
 satisfied ; it was a Law of Honour, the breach 
 whereof required personal satisfaction for 
 the greatest affront and the highest act of 
 ingratitude to God, inasmuch as the slighter 
 the thing demanded is, the greater is the 
 affront in refusing it. " Man by his very 
 creation entered into the labours of the 
 Creator and became Lord of the Universe 
 which was adapted to his enjoyments. God 
 left him in possession of it upon his parole 
 of honour, only that he would acknowledge 
 it to be held of Him, and as the token of
 
 448 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 this tenure that he would only forbear from 
 eating of one tree, withal telling him that if 
 he did eat of it, his life should go for it. If 
 man had had more than his life to give, God 
 would have had it of him. This was rather 
 a resentment of the affront, than any satis- 
 faction for it ; and therefore to signify the 
 height of this resentment, God raises man 
 from the dead to demand further satisfac- 
 tion from him. Death is a commitment to 
 the prison of the Grave till the Judgment 
 of the Great Day ; and then the grand 
 Habeas Corpus will issue to the Earth and 
 to the Sea, to give up their dead : to remove 
 the Bodies, with the cause of their com- 
 mitment. 
 
 " Yet was this a resentment without 
 malice ; for as God maintained his resent- 
 ment under all his love, so He maintained 
 his love under all his resentment. For his 
 love being a love of kindness flowing from 
 his own nature, could not be diminished by 
 any act of man ; and yet his honour being 
 concerned to maintain the truth of his word, 
 he could not falsify that to gratify his own 
 affection. And thus he bore the passion of 
 his own love, till he had found out a salvo 
 for his honour by that Son of Man who gave 
 him satisfaction at once by the dignity of 
 his person. Personal satisfactions by the 
 Laws of Honour are esteemed sufficient or 
 not, according to the equality or inequality 
 between the persons who give or take the 
 affront. Therefore God to vindicate his 
 honour was obliged to find out a person for 
 this purpose equal to Himself: the invention 
 of which is called the manifold wisdom of 
 God, the invention itself being the highest 
 expression of the deepest love, and the exe- 
 cution of it, in the death of Christ, the deepest 
 resentment of the highest affront. 
 
 " Now inasmuch as the person of our 
 Saviour was superior to the human nature, 
 so much the satisfaction by his death sur- 
 mounted the offence. He died under the 
 Law, but he did not arise under it, having 
 taken it away by his death. The life re- 
 gained by him in his resurrection was by 
 Conquest, by which, according to all the 
 Laws of Conquest, the Law of Death is 
 
 taken away. For by the Laws of Conquest the 
 - Laws of the conquered are ipso facto taken 
 away, and all records and writings that re- 
 main of them are of no more force than 
 waste paper. Hence the title of Christ to 
 Eternal Life is become absolute, by abso- 
 lute," says this theologo-jurist, "I mean 
 discharged from all tenure or condition, and 
 consequently from all forfeiture. And as 
 his title to life is thus become absolute by 
 Conquest, so the direction of it is become 
 eternal by being annexed to the Person of 
 the Godhead : thus Christ ever since his re- 
 surrection did, and doth, stand seized of an 
 absolute and indefeazable Estate of Eternal 
 Life, without any tenure or condition or 
 other matter or thing to change or determine 
 it for ever." " 1 had reason," says Asgill, 
 " thus to assert the title of Christ at large ; 
 because this is the title by and under which 
 I am going to affirm my argument, and to 
 claim Eternal Life for myself and all the 
 world. 
 
 " And first I put it upon the Profession of 
 Divinity to deny one word of the fact as I 
 have repeated it. Next I challenge the 
 Science of the Law to shew such another 
 Title as this is. And then I defy the Logi- 
 cians to deny my Argument : of which this 
 is the abstract : That the Law delivered to 
 Adam before the Fall is the original cause 
 of Death in the World : That this Law is 
 taken away by the Death of Christ : That 
 therefore the legal power of death is gone. 
 And I am so far from thinking this Cove- 
 nant of Eternal Life to be an allusion to the 
 forms of Title amongst men, that I rather 
 adore it as the precedent for them all ; 
 believing with that great Apostle that the 
 things on Earth are but the patterns of 
 things in the Heavens where the Originals 
 are kept." This he says because he has be- 
 fore made it appear that in the Covenant of 
 Eternal Life all things requisite to consti- 
 tute a legal instrument are found, to wit, 
 the date, the parties, the contents, and con- 
 sideration, the sealing, and execution, the 
 witnesses, and the Ceremony required of 
 Man, whereby to execute it on his part and 
 take the advantage of it.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 449 
 
 By the sacrifice which our Lord offered 
 of himself, this technical but sincere and 
 serious enthusiast argues, more than an 
 atonement was made. " And that this super- 
 abundancy might not run to waste, God 
 declared that Man should have Eternal Life 
 absolute as Christ himself had it ; and hence 
 Eternal Life is called the Gift of God through 
 our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, over 
 and above our redemption. Why then," 
 he asks, " doth Death remain in the World? 
 Why because Man knows not the Way of Life 
 ' the way of Life they have not known.' 
 Because our faith is not yet come to us 
 ' when the Son of Man comes shall he find 
 faith upon the earth ? ' Because Man is a 
 beast of burden that knows not his own 
 strength in the virtue of the Death and the 
 power of the Resurrection of Christ. Un- 
 belief goes not by reason or dint of argu- 
 ment, but is a sort of melancholy madness, 
 by which if we once fancy ourselves bound, 
 it hath the same effect upon us as if we really 
 were so. Death is like Satan, who appears 
 to none but those who are afraid of him : 
 Resist the Devil and he will flee from you. 
 Because Death had once dominion over us, 
 we think it hath, and must have it still. 
 And this I find within myself, that though I 
 can't deny one word I have said in fact or 
 argument, yet I can't maintain my belief 
 of it without making it more familiar to my 
 understanding, by turning it up and down 
 in my thoughts and ruminating upon some 
 proceedings already made upon it in the 
 World. 
 
 " The Motto of the Religion of the World 
 is Mors Jamta Vita ; if we mean by this the 
 Death of Christ, we are in the right ; but if 
 we mean our own Death, then we are in the 
 wrong. Far be it from me to say that Man 
 may not attain to Eternal Life, though he 
 should die ; for the Text runs double. ' / 
 am the Resurrection and the Life ; he that 
 liveth and believeth on me, shall never die ; 
 and though he were dead he shall live.' This 
 very Text shews that there is a nearer way 
 of entering into Eternal Life than by the 
 way of Death and Resurrection. AVhatever 
 circumstances a man is under at the time of 
 
 his death, God is bound to make good this 
 Text to him, according to which part of it he 
 builds his faith upon ; if he be dead there's 
 a necessity for a resurrection ; but if he be 
 alive there's no occasion for Death or Re- 
 surrection either. This text doth not main- 
 tain two religions, but two articles of faith 
 in the same religion, and the article of faith 
 for a present life without dying is the higher 
 of the two. 
 
 "No man can comprehend the heights 
 and depths of the Gospel at his first entrance 
 into it ; and in point of order, ' the last 
 enemy to be destroyed is Death.' The first 
 essay of Faith is against Hell, that though 
 we die we may not be damned ; ana the full 
 assurance of this is more than most men 
 attain to before Death overtakes them, 
 which makes Death a terror to men. But 
 they who attain it can sing a requiem ' Lord, 
 now lettest thou thy Servant depart in 
 peace! ' and if God takes them at their word, 
 they lie down in the faith of the Resurrec- 
 tion of the Just. But whenever, he pleases 
 to continue them, after that attainment, 
 much longer above ground, that time seems 
 to them an interval of perfect leisure, till at 
 last espying Death itself, they fall upon it as 
 an enemy that must be conquered, one time 
 or other, through faith in Christ. This is the 
 reason why it seems intended that a respite 
 of time should be allotted to believers after 
 the first Resurrection and before the disso- 
 lution of the World, for perfecting that faith 
 which they began before their death but 
 could not attain to in the first reach of life : 
 for Death being but a discontinuance of 
 Life, wherever men leave off at their death, 
 they must begin at their resurrection. Nor 
 shall they ascend after their resurrection, till 
 they have attained to this faith of translation, 
 and by that very faith they shall be then 
 convinced that they need not have died. 
 
 " When Elijah courted death under the 
 juniper tree in the wilderness, and ' said 
 now, Lord, take away my life, for I am not 
 better than my fathers,' that request shews 
 that he was not educated in this faith of trans- 
 lation, but attained it afterwards by study. 
 Paul tells ' we shall not all die but we shall
 
 450 
 
 THE DOCTOR, 
 
 all be changed ;' yet though he delivered 
 this to be his faith in general, he did not 
 attain to such a particular knowledge of the 
 way and manner of it as to prevent his own 
 death: he tells us he had not yet attained 
 the Resurrection of the dead, but was 
 pressing after it. He had but a late con- 
 version, and was detained in the study of 
 another part of divinity, the confirming the 
 New Testament by the Old and making 
 them answer one another, a point previous 
 to the faith of translation, and which must 
 be learned before it in order to it. But 
 this his pressing (though he did not attain) 
 hath much encouraged me," says Asgill, " to 
 make this enquiry, being well assured that 
 he would not have thus pursued it, had he 
 not apprehended more in it than the vulgar 
 opinion. 
 
 " We don't think ourselves fit to deal with 
 one another in human affairs till our age of 
 one and twenty. But to deal with our 
 offended Maker, to counterplot the malice 
 of fallen Angels, and to rescue ourselves 
 from eternal ruin, we are generally as well 
 qualified before we can speak plain, as all 
 our life-time after. Children can say over 
 their religion at four or five years old, and 
 their parents that taught them can do no 
 more at four or five and fifty. The common 
 Creed of the Christian religion may be 
 learned in an hour : and one day's philosophy 
 will teach a man to die. But to know the 
 virtue of the Death and Power of the 
 Resurrection of Christ, is a science calcu- 
 lated for the study of Men and Angels for 
 ever. 
 
 " But if man may be thus changed with- 
 out death, and that it is of no use to him in 
 order to Eternal Life ; what then is Death ? 
 Or, whereunto serveth it ? What is it ? 
 Why 'tis a misfortune fallen upon man from 
 the beginning, and from which he has not 
 yet dared to attempt his recovery : and it 
 serves as a spectre to fright us into a little 
 better life (perhaps) than we should lead 
 without it. Though God hath formed this 
 Covenant of Eternal Life, Men have made an 
 agreement with Death and Hell, by way of 
 composition to submit to Death, in hope of 
 
 escaping Hell by that obedience ; and under 
 this allegiance we think ourselves bound 
 never to rebel against it! The study of 
 Philosophy is to teach men to die, from the 
 observations of Nature ; the profession of 
 Divinity is to enforce the doctrine from 
 Revelation : and the science of the Law is 
 to settle our civil affairs pursuant to these 
 resolutions. The old men are making their 
 last Wills and Testaments ; and the young 
 are expecting the execution of them by the 
 death of the testators ; and thus 
 
 Mortii ad eiemplum lotus componitur orbis. 
 
 I was under this Law of Death once ; and 
 while I lay under it, I felt the terror of it, 
 till I had delivered myself from it by those 
 thoughts which must convince them that 
 have them. And in this thing only, I wish, 
 for their sakes, that all men were as I am. 
 The reason why I believe that this doctrine 
 is true, is, because God hath said it : yet I 
 could not thus assert it by argument, if I 
 did not conceive it with more self-conviction 
 than I have from any maxims or positions in 
 human science. The Covenant of Eternal 
 Life is a Law of itself and a science of itself, 
 which can never be known by the study of 
 any other science. It is a science out of 
 Man's way, being a pure invention of God. 
 Man knows no more how to save himself 
 than he did to create himself; but to raise 
 his ambition for learning this, God graduates 
 him upon his degree of knowledge in it, and 
 gives him badges of honour as belonging to 
 that degree, upon the attainment whereof a 
 man gains the title of a Child of the Resur- 
 rection : to which title belongs this badge of 
 honour, to die no more but make our exit 
 by translation, as Christ, who was the first 
 of this Order, did before us. And this world 
 being the academy to educate Man for 
 Heaven, none shall ever enter there till they 
 have taken this degree here. 
 
 " Let the Dead bury the Dead ! and the 
 Dead lie with the Dead ! And the rest of 
 the Living go lie with them ! I'll follow 
 him that was dead, and is alive, and living 
 for ever. And though I am now single, yet 
 I believe that this belief will be general 
 before the general change, of which Paul
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 451 
 
 speaks, shall come ; and that then, and not 
 before, shall be the Resurrection of the 
 Just, which is called the first Resurrection ; 
 and after that the Dead so arisen, with the 
 Living, then alive, shall have learned this 
 faith, which shall qualify them to be caught 
 up together in the air, then shall be the 
 General Resurrection, after which Time 
 shall be no more. 
 
 "The beginning of this faith, like all 
 other parts of the Kingdom of Heaven, will 
 be like a grain of mustard seed, spreading 
 itself by degrees till it overshadow the whole 
 earth. And since ' the things concerning 
 Him must have an end,' in order to this 
 they must have a beginning. But whoever 
 leads the van will make the world start, and 
 must expect for himself to walk up and 
 down, like Cain, with a mark on his forehead, 
 and run the gauntlet for an Ishmaelite, 
 having every man's hand against him because 
 his hand is against every man ; than which 
 nothing is more averse to my temper. This 
 makes me think of publishing with as much 
 regret as he that ran away from his errand 
 when sent to Nineveh : but being just going 
 to cross the water " (he was going to Ire- 
 land, ) "I dared not leave this behind me 
 undone, lest a Tempest send me back again 
 to do it. And to shelter myself a little, 
 (though I knew my speech would betray 
 me,) I left the Title page anonymous. Nor 
 do I think that any thing would now extort 
 my name from me but the dread of the 
 sentence, ' he that is ashamed of me and of 
 my words, of him will I be ashamed before 
 my Father and his Angels : ' for fear of 
 which I dare not but subscribe my argument, 
 though with a trembling hand ; having felt 
 two powers within me all the while I have 
 been about it, one bids me write, and the 
 other bobs my elbow. But since I have 
 wrote this, as Pilate did his inscription, 
 without consulting any one, I'll be absolute 
 as he was ; ' what I have written, I have 
 written.' 
 
 " Having pursued that command, ' Seek 
 first the Kingdom of God,' I yet expect the 
 performance of that promise, to receive in 
 this life an hundred fold, and in the world 
 
 to come life everlasting.' I have a great 
 deal of business yet in this world, without 
 doing of which Heaven itself would be 
 uneasy to me : but when that is done I 
 know no business I have with the dead, and 
 therefore do depend that I shall not go 
 hence by ' returning to the dust,' which is 
 the sentence of that law from which I claim 
 a discharge : but that I shall make my exit 
 by way of translation, which I claim as a 
 dignity belonging to that Degree in the 
 Science of Eternal Life of which I profess 
 myself a graduate. And if after this I die 
 like other men, I declare myself to die of no 
 religion. Let no one be concerned for me 
 as a desperade : I am not going to renounce 
 the other part of our religion, but to add 
 another article of faith to it, without which 
 I cannot understand the rest. And if it be 
 possible to believe too much in God, I 
 desire to be guilty of that sin. 
 
 " Behold ye despisers and wonder ! 
 Wonder to see Paradise lost, with the Tree 
 of Life in the midst of it ! Wonder and 
 curse at Adam for an original fool, who in 
 the length of one day never so much as 
 thought to put forth his hand, for him and 
 us, and pull and eat and live for ever! 
 Wonder at and damn ourselves for fools of 
 the last impression, that in the space of 
 seventeen hundred years never so much as 
 thought to put forth our hands, every one 
 for himself, and seal and execute the Co- 
 venant of Eternal Life. 
 
 " To be even with the World at once, he 
 that wonders at my faith, I wonder at his 
 unbelief. The Blood of Christ hath an in- 
 cident quality which cleaneth from sin ; and 
 he that understands this never makes any 
 use of his own personal virtues as an argu- 
 ment for his own salvation, lest God should 
 overbalance against him with his sins ; nor 
 doth God ever object a man's sins to him in 
 the day of his faith ; therefore till I am more 
 sinful than He was holy, my sins are no ob- 
 jection against my faith. And because in 
 Him is all my hope, I care not (almost) 
 what I am myself. 
 
 " It is observed in the mathematics that 
 the practice doth not always answer the
 
 452 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 theory^ and that therefore there is no de- 
 pendence upon the mere notions of it as they 
 lie in the brain, without putting them to- 
 gether in the form of a tool or instrument, 
 to see how ah 1 things fit. This made me dis- 
 trust my own thoughts till I had put them 
 together, to see how they would look in the 
 form of an argument. But in doing this, I 
 thank God I have found every joint and 
 article to come into its own place, and fall 
 in with and suit one another to a hair's 
 breadth, beyond my expectation : or else I 
 could not ha^fe had the confidence to pro- 
 duce this as an engine in Divinity to convey 
 man from Earth to Heaven. I am not 
 making myself wings to fly to Heaven with, 
 but only making myself ready for that con- 
 veyance which shall be sent me. And if I 
 should lose myself in this untrodden path of 
 Life, I can still find out the beaten Road of 
 Death blindfold. If therefore, after this, ' I 
 go the way of my fathers,' I freely waive that 
 haughty epitaph, Magnis tamen excidit ausis, 
 and instead knock under table that Satan 
 hath beguiled me to play the fool with my- 
 self, in which however he hath shewed his 
 master-piece ; for I defy the whole clan of 
 Hell to produce another lye so like to truth 
 as this is. But if I act my motto, and go the 
 way of an Eagle in the air, then have I played 
 a trump upon Death, and shewn myself a 
 match for the Devil. 
 
 " And while I am thus fighting with Death 
 and Hell, it looks a little like foul play for 
 Flesh and Blood to interpose themselves 
 against me. But if any one hath spite enough 
 to give me a polt, thinking to falsify my faith 
 by taking away my life, I only desire them 
 first to qualify themselves for my execu- 
 tioners, by taking this short test in their own 
 consciences : whoever thinks that any thing 
 herein contained is not fair dealing with 
 God and Man, let him or her burn this 
 book, and cast a stone at him that wrote it." 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXIIL 
 
 MORE CONCERNING ASGILL. HIS DEFENCE IN 
 THE HOUSE OF COMMONS, HIS EXPULSION, 
 FARTHER SPECULATIONS AND DEATH. 
 
 Let not that ugly Skeleton appear ! 
 Sure Destiny mistakes ; this Death's not mine ! 
 
 DRYDEN. 
 
 THE substance of AsgilTs argument has been 
 given in his own words, but by thus ab- 
 stracting and condensing it his peculiar 
 manner is lost. This, though it consisted 
 more perhaps in appearance than in reality, 
 is characteristic of the author, and may be 
 well exemplified in the concluding passage 
 of one of his political pamphlets : 
 
 " But I shall raise more clioler by this way of writing, 
 For writing and reading are in themselves commendable 
 
 things, 
 
 But 'tis the way of writing at which offence is taken, 
 And this is the misfortune of an Author, 
 That unless some are angry with him, none are pleased. 
 Which puts him under this dilemma, 
 That he must either ruin himself or his Printer. 
 
 But to prevent either, as far as I can, I 
 would rather turn Trimmer and compound 
 too. And to end all quarrels with my readers 
 (if they please to accept the proposal, 
 
 And to shew withal that I am no dogmatical Author,) 
 
 I now say to them all, in print, what I once 
 did to one of them, by word of mouth. 
 Whoever meets with any thing in what I 
 publish, which they don't like, 
 
 Let 'em strike it out. 
 
 But to take off part of the Odium from me, 
 They say others write like me, 
 In short paragraphs : 
 (An easy part of a mimick,) 
 But with all my heart ! 
 I don't care who writes like me, 
 So 1 don't write like them." 
 
 Many a book has originated in the misfor- 
 tunes of its Author. Want, imprisonment, 
 and disablement by bodily infirmity from 
 active occupation, have produced almost as 
 many works in prose or rhyme, as leisure, 
 voluntary exertion, and strong desire. As- 
 gill's harmless heresy began in an involun- 
 tary confinement to which he was reduced 
 in consequence of an unsuccessful specula-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 453 
 
 tion. He had engaged in this adventure (by 
 which better word our forefathers designated 
 what the Americans call a spec,) with the 
 hope of increasing his fortune, instead of 
 which he incurred so great a loss, that he 
 found it necessary to keep his chamber in 
 the Temple for some years. There he fell 
 to examining that " Book of Law and 
 Gospel," both which we call the Bible ; and 
 examining it as he would have perused an 
 old deed, with the hope of discovering in it 
 some clause upon which to ground a claim 
 at law, this thought, he says, first came into 
 his head ; but it was a great while coming 
 out. He was afraid of his own thoughts, 
 lest they were his own only, and as such a 
 delusion. And when he had tried them with 
 pen, ink and paper, and they seemed to him 
 plainer and plainer every time he went over 
 them, and he had formed them into an 
 Argument, " to see how they would bear 
 upon the proof," even then he had no inten- 
 tion of making them public. 
 
 "But writing an ill hand," says he, "I 
 resolved to see how it would look in print. 
 On this I gave the Printer my Copy, with 
 money for his own labour, to print off some 
 few for myself, and keep the press secret. 
 But I remember before he got half way 
 through, he told me his men fancied I was 
 a little crazed, in which I also fancied he 
 spoke one word for them and two for him- 
 self. However I bid him go on ; and at last 
 it had so raised his fancy, that he desired 
 my leave to print off one edition at the 
 risque of his own charge, saying he thought 
 gome of the Anabaptists would believe it 
 first. I being just then going for Ireland, 
 admitted him, with this injunction, he should 
 not publish them 'till I was got clear out 
 of Middlesex ; which I believe he might ob- 
 serve ; though by what I heard afterwards, 
 they were all about town by that time I got 
 to St. Albans : and the book was in Ireland 
 almost as soon as I was, (for a man's works 
 will follow him,) with a noise after me that 
 I was gone away mad." 
 
 Asgill was told in Ireland that the cry 
 which followed him would prevent his prac- j 
 tice ; it had a contrary effect, for " people 
 
 went into Court to see him as a Monster 
 and heard him talk like a man." In the 
 course of two years he gained enough by his 
 profession to purchase Lord Kenmure's for- 
 feited estate, and to procure a seat in the 
 Irish House of Commons. The purchase 
 made him enemies ; as he was on the way to 
 Dublin he met the news that his book had 
 been burnt by Order of the House. He 
 proceeded however, took the oaths and his 
 seat, and the Book having been condemned 
 and executed without hearing the author in 
 its defence, nothing more was necessary than 
 to prove him the Author and expel him 
 forthwith, and this was done in the course of 
 four days. After this he returned to England 
 and obtained a seat for Bramber, apparently 
 for the mere sake of securing himself against 
 his creditors. This borough he represented 
 for two years ; but in the first Parliament 
 after the Union some of the Scotch Members 
 are said to have looked upon it as a disgrace 
 to the House of Commons, that a man who 
 enjoyed his liberty only under privilege 
 should sit there, and instead of attempt- 
 ing to remedy a scandal by straightforward 
 means, they took the easier course of moving 
 for a Committee to examine his book. Their 
 report was that it was profane and blasphe- 
 mous, highly reflecting upon the Christian 
 Religion. He was allowed, however, to make 
 his defence, which he thus began. 
 
 " Mr. Speaker, this day calls me to some- 
 thing I am both unapt and averse to 
 Preaching. For though, as you see, I have 
 vented some of my thoughts in religion, yet 
 I appeal to my conversation, whether I use 
 to make that the subject of my discourse. 
 However that I may not let this accusation 
 go against me by a Nihil dicit, I stand up to 
 make my defence. I have heard it from 
 without doors that I intended to withdraw 
 myself from this day's test and be gone ; 
 which would have given them that said it 
 an opportunity to boast that they had once 
 spoken truth. But qua me fata trahunt, Til 
 give no man occasion to write fugam fecit 
 upon my grave-stone." 
 
 He then gave the history of his book and 
 of his expulsion in Ireland, and thanked the
 
 454 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 House for admitting him to a defence before 
 they proceeded to judgment. " I find," said 
 he, " the Report of the Committee is not 
 levelled at the argument itself which I have 
 advanced, nor yet against the treatise I have 
 published to prove it, but against some ex- 
 pressions in that proof, and which I intend 
 to give particular answers to. But there is 
 something else laid to my charge as my de- 
 sign in publishing that argument, of higher 
 concern to me than any expressions in the 
 treatise, or any censure that can fall on me 
 for it ; as if I had wrote it with a malicious 
 intention to expose the Scriptures as false, 
 because they seemed to contain what I 
 asserted ; and that therefore if that asser- 
 tion did not hold true, the Scripture must 
 be false. Now whether this was my inten- 
 tion or no, there is but one Witness in 
 Heaven or Earth can prove, and that is He 
 that made me, and in whose presence I now 
 stand, and Who is able to strike me dead in 
 my place ; and to Him I now appeal for the 
 truth of what I protest against : that I never 
 did write or publish that argument with any 
 intention to expose the Scriptures ; but on 
 the contrary, (though I was aware that I 
 might be liable to that censure, which I knew 
 not how to avoid,) I did both write and pub- 
 lish it, under a firm belief of the truth of 
 the Scriptures : and with a belief (under that) 
 that what I have asserted in that argument 
 is within that truth. And if it be not, then 
 I am mistaken in my argument, and the 
 Scripture remains true. Let God be true 
 and every man a lyar. And having made 
 this protestation, I am not much concerned 
 whether I am believed in it or not ; I had 
 rather tell a truth than be believed in a lie 
 at any time." 
 
 He then justified the particular passage 
 which had been selected for condemnation, 
 resting his defence upon this ground, that 
 he had used familiar expressions with the 
 intent of being sooner read and more readily 
 understood. There was indeed but a single 
 word which savoured of irreverence, and 
 certainly no irreverence was intended in its 
 use; no one who fairly perused his argu- 
 ment but must have perceived that the levity 
 
 of his manner in no degree detracted from 
 the seriousness of his belief. " Yet," said 
 he, " if by any of those expressions I have 
 really given offence to any well-meaning 
 Christian, I am sorry for it, though I had 
 no ill intention in it : but if any man be 
 captious to take exceptions for exception 
 sake, I am not concerned. I esteem my 
 own case plain and short. I was expelled 
 one House for having too much land ; and 
 I am going to be expelled another for having 
 too little money. But if I may yet ask one 
 question more ; pray what is this blasphe- 
 mous crime I here stand charged with ? A 
 belief of what we all profess, or at least what 
 no one can deny. If the death of the body 
 be included in the Fall, why is not the life 
 of the body included in the Resurrection ? 
 And what if I have a firmer belief of this 
 than some others have ? Am I therefore a 
 blasphemer ? Or would they that believe 
 less take it well of me to call them so ? Our 
 Saviour in his day took notice of some of 
 little faith and some of great faith, without 
 stigmatizing either of them with blasphemy 
 for it. But I do not know how 'tis, we are 
 fallen into such a sort of uniformity that we 
 would fain have Religion into a Tyrant's 
 bed, torturing one another into our own size 
 of it only. But it grows late, and I ask but 
 one saying more to take leave of my friends 
 with. I do believe that had I turned this 
 Defence into a Recantation, I had prevented 
 my Expulsion : but I have reserved my last 
 words as my ultimate reason against that 
 Recantation. He that durst write that book, 
 dares not deny it ! " 
 
 "And what then?" said this eccentric 
 writer, when five years afterwards he pub- 
 lished his Defence. " Why then they called 
 for candles; and I went away by the light 
 of 'em : and after the previous question and 
 other usual ceremonies, (as I suppose) I was 
 expelled the House. And from thence I 
 retired to a Chamber I once had in the 
 Temple ; and from thence I afterwards sur- 
 rendered myself in discharge of my bail, 
 and have since continued under confinement. 
 And under that confinement God hath been 
 pleased to take away ' the Desire of mine
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 455 
 
 Eyes with a stroke,' which hath, however, 
 drowned all my other troubles at once ; for 
 the less are merged in the greater ; 
 
 Qui venit hicfluctus,fluctus tupereminet omnes. 
 
 And since I have mentioned her, I'll relate 
 this of her. She having been educated a 
 Protestant of the Church of England, by 
 a Lady her Grandmother, her immediate 
 parents and other relations being Roman 
 Catholics, an honest Gentleman of the Romish 
 persuasion, who knew her family, presented 
 her, while she was my fellow-prisoner, with 
 a large folio volume, being the history of 
 the Saints canonised in that Church, for her 
 reading ; with intention, as I found, to in- 
 cline her that way. With which, delighting 
 in reading, she entertained herself 'till she 
 had gone through it ; and some time after 
 that she told me that she had before some 
 thoughts towards that religion, but that the 
 reading that history had confirmed her 
 against it. 
 
 " And yet she would never read the book 
 I was expelled for 'till after my last expul- 
 sion ; but then reading it through, told me 
 she was reconciled to the reasons of it, though 
 she could not say she believed it. How- 
 ever she said something of her own thoughts 
 with it, that hath given me the satisfaction 
 that she is ' dead in Christ,' and thereby 
 sure of her part in the first Resurrection : 
 the Dead in Christ shall arise first. And 
 this pars decessa mei leaving me half dead 
 while she remains in the grave, hath since 
 drawn me, in diving after her, into a nearer 
 view and more familiar though more unusual 
 thoughts of that first Resurrection than ever 
 I had before. From whence I now find 
 that nothing less than this fluctus decumanus 
 would have cast me upon, or qualified me 
 for, this theme, if yet I am so qualified. 
 And from hence I am advancing that com- 
 mon Article in our Creed, the Resurrection 
 of the Dead, into a professed study ; from 
 the result of which study I have already 
 advanced an assertion, which (should I vent 
 alone) perhaps would find no better quarter 
 in the world than what I have advanced 
 already. And yet, though I say it that per- 
 
 haps should not, it hath one quality we are 
 all fond of, it is News; and another we 
 all should be fond of, it is good News : or, 
 at least, good to them that are so, ' for to 
 the froward all things are froward.' 
 
 " Having made this Discovery, or rather 
 collected it from the "Word of Life ; I am 
 advancing it into a Treatise whereby to 
 prove it in special form, not by arguments 
 of wit or sophistry, but from the evidence 
 and demonstration of the truth as it is in 
 Jesus : which should I accomplish I would 
 not be prevented from publishing that edi- 
 tion to gain more than I lost by my former ; 
 nor for more than Balak ever intended to 
 give, or than Balaam could expect to receive, 
 for cursing the people of Israel, if God had 
 not spoilt that bargain. I find it as old as 
 the New Testament, c if by any means I may 
 attain the Resurrection of the Dead.' And 
 though Paul did not then so attain, (not as 
 if I had already attained), yet he died in his 
 calling, and will stand so much nearer that 
 mark at his Resurrection. But if Paul, 
 with that effusion of the Spirit upon him 
 in common with the other Apostles, and that 
 superabundant revelation given him above 
 them all, by that rapture unto things un- 
 utterable, did not so attain in that his day; 
 whence should I, a mere Lay, (and that 
 none of the best neither,) without any func- 
 tion upon me, expect to perfect what he left 
 so undone ? In pursuit of this study I have 
 found, (what I had not before observed,) that 
 there are some means since left us towards 
 this attainment, which Paul had not in his 
 day ; for there now remain extant unto the 
 world, bound up with that now one entire 
 record of the Bible, two famous Records of 
 the Resurrection that never came to Paul's 
 hands; and for want whereof, perhaps, he 
 might not then so attain. But having now 
 this intelligence of them, and fearing that in 
 the day of Account I may have a special sur- 
 charge made upon me for these additional 
 Talents and further Revelations ; and bear- 
 ing in mind the dreadful fate of that cautious 
 insuring servant who took so much care to 
 redeliver what he had received in statu quo 
 as he had it, that it might not be said to be
 
 456 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 the worse for his keeping, I have rather 
 adventured to defile those Sacred Records 
 with my own study and thoughts upon them, 
 than to think of returning them wrapt up 
 in a napkin clean and untouched. 
 
 " Whether ever I shall accomplish to my 
 own satisfaction what I am now so engaged 
 in, I do not yet know ; but 'till I do, I'll 
 please myself to be laughed at by this 
 cautious insuring world, as tainted with a 
 frenzy of dealing in Reversions of Con- 
 tingencies. However in the mean time I 
 would not be thought to be spending this 
 interval of my days by myself in beating 
 the air, under a dry expectancy only of a 
 thing so seemingly remote as the Resur- 
 rection of the Dead : like Courtiers-Ex- 
 traordinary fretting out their soles with 
 attendances in ante-rooms for things or 
 places no more intended to be given them 
 than perhaps they are fit to have them. For 
 though I should fall short of the attainment 
 I am attempting, the attempt itself hath 
 translated my Prison into a Paradise ; 
 treating me with food and enamouring me 
 with pleasures that man knows not of : from 
 whence, I hope, I may without vanity say, 
 
 Vcus nobis htec alia fecit." 
 
 What the farther reversion might be to 
 which Asgill fancied he had discovered a 
 title in the Gospels, is not known. Perhaps 
 he failed in satisfying himself when he 
 attempted to arrange his notions in logical 
 and legal form, and possibly that failure may 
 have weakened his persuasion of the former 
 heresy : for though he lived twenty years 
 after the publication of his Defence and the 
 announcement of this second discovery in 
 the Scriptures, the promised argument never 
 appeared. His subsequent writings consist 
 of a few pamphlets in favour of the Hano- 
 verian succession. They were too incon- 
 siderable to contribute much towards eking 
 out his means of support, for which he was 
 probably chiefly indebted to his professional 
 knowledge. The remainder of his life was 
 passed within the Rules of the King's Bench 
 Prison, where he died in 1738 at a very 
 advanced age, retaining his vivacity and his 
 
 remarkable powers of conversation to the 
 last. If it be true that he nearly attained 
 the age of an hundred, (as one statement 
 represents,) and with these happy faculties 
 unimpaired, he may have been tempted to 
 imagine that he was giving the best and 
 only convincing proof of his own argument. 
 Death undeceived him, and Time has done 
 him justice at last. For though it stands 
 recorded that he was expelled the House of 
 Commons as being the Author of a Book in 
 which are contained many profane and 
 blasphemous expressions, highly reflecting 
 upon the Christian Religion ! nothing can 
 be more certain than that this censure was 
 undeserved, and that his expulsion upon that 
 ground was as indefensible as it would have 
 been becoming, if, in pursuance of the real 
 motives by which the House was actuated, 
 an Act had been passed disqualifying from 
 that time forward any person in a state of 
 insolvency from taking or retaining a seat 
 there. 
 
 In the year 1760 I find him mentioned as 
 " the celebrated gentleman commonly called 
 " translated Asgill." His name is now seen 
 only in catalogues, and his history known 
 only to the curious: Mais, c'est assez 
 parle de luy, et encore trop, ce diront aucuns, 
 qui pourront men blasmer, et dire que festois 
 bien de loisir quand fescrivis cecy; mais Us 
 seront Men plus de loisir de la lire, pour me 
 reprendre. * 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXIV. 
 
 THE DOCTOR INDULGES IN THE WAT OF 
 FANTASTIC AND TYPICAL SPECULATION ON 
 HIS OWN NAME, AND ON THE POWERS OF 
 THE LETTER D., WHETHER AS REGARDS 
 DEGREES AND DISTINCTIONS, GODS AND 
 DEMIGODS, PRINCES AND KINGS, PHILO- 
 SOPHERS, GENERALS, OR TRAVELLERS. 
 
 My mouth's no dictionary ; it only serves as the needful 
 interpreter of my heart. QUAKLES. 
 
 THERE were few things in the way of 
 fantastic and typical speculation which de- 
 
 * BRYKTOME.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 457 
 
 lighted the Doctor so much as the contem- 
 plation of his own name : 
 
 DANIEL DOVE. 
 
 D. D. it was upon his linen and his seal. 
 D. D., he used to say, designated the highest 
 degree in the highest of the sciences, and he 
 was D. D. not by the forms of a University, 
 but by Nature or Destiny. 
 
 Besides, he maintained, that the letter D 
 was the richest, the most powerful, the most 
 fortunate letter in the alphabet, and con- 
 tained in its form and origin more mysteries 
 than any other. 
 
 It was a potential letter under which all 
 powerful things were arranged ; Dictators, 
 Despots, Dynasties, Diplomas, Doctors, Do- 
 minations ; Deeds and Donations and De- 
 crees ; Dioptrics and Dynamics ; Dialectics 
 and Demonstrations. 
 
 Diaphragm, Diathesis, Diet, Digestion, 
 Disorder, Disease, Diagnosis ; Diabrosis, 
 Diaphragmatis, Diaphthora, Desudation, De- 
 fluxions, Dejection, Delirium, Delivery, 
 Dyspepsy, Dysmenorrhcea, Dysorcexia, Dys- 
 pnoea, Dysuria, Dentition, Dropsy, Diabetes, 
 Diarrhoea, Dysentery ; then passing almost 
 in unconscious but beautiful order from 
 diseases to remedies and their consequences, 
 he proceeded with Dispensation, Diluents, 
 Discutients, Deobstruents, Demulcents, De- 
 tergents, Desiccatives, Depurantia, Diapho- 
 retics, Dietetics, Diachylon, Diacodium, 
 Diagrydium, Deligations, Decoctions, Doses, 
 Draughts, Drops, Dressings, Drastics, Dis- 
 solution, Dissection. What indeed he would 
 say, should we do in our profession without 
 the Ds ? 
 
 Or what would the Divines do without it 
 Danger, Despair, Dea'h, Devil, Doomsday, 
 Damnation; look to the brighter side, there 
 is the Doxology, and you ascend to A<6c, 
 and Deus and Deity. 
 
 What would become of the farmer with- 
 out Dung, or of the Musician without the 
 Diapason ? Think also of Duets in music 
 and Doublets at Backgammon. And the 
 soldier's toast in the old Play, " the two Ds 
 Drink and your Duty." * 
 
 * SHIKLEY, Honoria and Mammon. 
 
 Look at the moral evils which are ranged 
 under its banners, Dissentions, Discord, 
 Duels, Dissimulation, Deceit, Dissipation, 
 Demands, Debts, Damages, Divorce, Dis- 
 tress, Drunkenness, Dram-drinking, Dis- 
 traction, Destruction. 
 
 When the Poet would describe things 
 mournful and calamitous, whither doth he 
 go for epithets of alliterative significance ? 
 where but to the letter D ? there he hath 
 Dim, Dusky, Drear, Dark, Damp, Dank, 
 Dismal, Doleful, Dolorous, Disastrous, 
 Dreadful, Desperate, Deplorable. 
 
 Would we sum up the virtues and praise 
 of a perfect Woman, how should we do it 
 but by saying that she was devout in 
 religion, decorous in conduct, domestic in 
 habits, dextrous in business, dutiful as a 
 wife, diligent as a mother, discreet as a 
 mistress, in manner debonnaire, in mind 
 delicate, in person delicious, in disposition 
 docile, in all things delightful. Then he 
 would smile at Mrs. Dove and say, I love my 
 love with a D. and her name is Deborah. 
 
 For degrees and distinctions, omitting 
 those which have before been incidentally 
 enumerated, are there not Dauphin and 
 Dey, Dux, Duke, Doge. Dominus, with 
 its derivatives Don, the Dom of the French 
 and Portugueze, and the Dan of our own 
 early language; Dame, Damsel, and Da- 
 moisel in the untranslated masculine. Dea- 
 cons and Deans, those of the Christian 
 Church, and of Madagascar, whose title 
 the French write Dian, and we should 
 write Deen not to confound them with the 
 dignitaries of our Establishment. Druids 
 and Dervises, Dryads, Demigods, and Di- 
 vinities. 
 
 Regard the Mappa Mundi. You have 
 Denmark and Dalecarlia, Dalmatia and the 
 fertile Delta, Damascus, Delos, Delphi and 
 Dodona, the Isles of Domingo and Do- 
 minica, Dublin and Durham and Dorchester 
 and Dumfries, the shires of Devon, Dorset 
 and Derby and the adjoining Bishoprick. 
 Dantzic and Drontheim, the Dutchy of 
 Deux Fonts ; Delhi the seat of the Great 
 Mogul, and that great city yet unspoiled, 
 which
 
 4.58 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Geryon's sons 
 Call El Dorado, 
 
 the Lakes Dembea and Derwentwater, the 
 rivers Dwina, Danube and Delawar, Duero 
 or Douro call it which you will, the Doubs 
 and all the Dons, and our own wizard Dee, 
 which may be said to belong wholly to 
 this letter, the vowels being rather for ap- 
 pearance than use. 
 
 Think also, he would say of the worthies, 
 heroes and sages in D. David, and his 
 namesake of Wales. Diogenes, Daedalus, 
 Diomede, and Queen Dido, Decebalus the 
 Dacian King, Deucalion, Datames the Carian 
 whom Nepos hath immortalised, and Marshal 
 Daun who so often kept the King of Prussia 
 in check, and sometimes defeated him. Nay 
 if I speak of men eminent for the rank which 
 they held, or for their exploits in war, might 
 I not name the Kings of Persia who bore the 
 name of Darius, Demaratus of Sparta, whom 
 the author of Leonidas hath well pourtrayed 
 as retaining in exile a reverential feeling 
 toward the country which had wronged him : 
 and Deodatus, a name assumed by, or given 
 to Louis the 14th, the greatest actor of 
 greatness that ever existed. Dion who lives 
 for ever in the page of Plutarch; the 
 Demetrii, the Roman Decii, Diocletian, and 
 Devereux Earl of Essex, he by whom Cadiz 
 was taken, and whose execution occasioned 
 the death of the repentant Elizabeth by 
 whom it was decreed. If of those who have 
 triumphed upon the ocean shall we not find 
 Dragat the far-famed corsair, and our own 
 more famous and more dreadful Drake. 
 Dandolo the Doge who at the age of 
 triumphed over the perfidious Greeks, and 
 was first chosen by the victorious Latins to 
 be the Emperor of Constantinople : Doria of 
 whom the Genoese still boast. Davis who 
 has left his name so near the Arctic Pole. 
 Dampier of all travellers the most observant 
 and most faithful.f Diaz who first attained 
 
 * The blank is in the original MS. Quzere, ninety-five ? 
 
 t " One of the most faithful, as well as exact and ex- 
 cellent of all voyage writers." Vindicia Eccl. Angl. 
 p. 115. Unhappily Southey's wish to continue this work 
 was not responded to. The continuation would have 
 proved invaluable now ; for who, so well as he, knew the 
 wiles of the Romish Church, and the subtillies of the 
 Jesuit ? 
 
 that 'Stormy Cape, to which from his time 
 the happier name of Good Hope hath been 
 given ; and Van Diemen the Dutchman. If 
 we look to the learned, are there not Duns 
 Scotus and Descartes ? Madame Dacier and 
 her husband. Damo the not-degenerate 
 daughter of Pythagoras, and though a woman 
 renowned for secrecy and silence; Dante 
 and Davila, Dugdale and Dupin ; Demo- 
 sthenes, Doctor Dee, (he also like the wizard 
 stream all our own,) and Bishop Duppa to 
 whom the EIKUJV Bao-iXiicj}, whether truly or 
 not, hath been ascribed : Sir Kenelm Digby, 
 by whom it hath been proved that Dogs 
 make syllogisms ; and Daniel Defoe. Here 
 the Doctor always pronounced the Christian 
 name with peculiar emphasis, and here I 
 think it necessary to stop, that the Reader 
 may take breath. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXV. 
 
 THE DOCTOR FOLLOWS UP HIS MEDITATIONS 
 ON THE LETTER D., AND EXPECTS THAT 
 THE READER WILL BE CONVINCED THAT 
 IT IS A DYNAMIC LETTER, AND THAT THE 
 HEBREWS DID NOT WITHOUT REASON CALL 
 
 IT DALETH THE DOOR AS THOUGH IT 
 
 WERE THE DOOR OF SPEECH. THE MYS- 
 TIC TRIANGLE. 
 
 More authority, dear boy, name more ; and sweet my 
 child, let them be men of good repute and carriage. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. 
 
 THE Doctor, as I have said in the last Ch.ip- 
 ter, pronounced with peculiar emphasis the 
 Christian name of Daniel Defoe. Then 
 taking up the auspicious word. Is there 
 not Daniel the prophet, in honour of whom 
 my baptismal name was given, Daniel, if not 
 the greatest of the prophets, yet for the matter 
 of his prophecies the most important. Daniel 
 the French historian, and Daniel the Eng- 
 lish poet ; who reminds me of other poets 
 in D, not less eminent. Donne, Dodsley, 
 Drayton, Drummond, Douglas the Bishop 
 of Dunkeld, Dunbar, Denham, Davenant, 
 Dyer, Durfey, Dryden, and Stephen Duck ; 
 Democritus the wise Abderite, whom I espe- 
 cially honour for finding matter of jest, even
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 459 
 
 in the profoundest thought, extracting mirth 
 from philosophy, and joining in delightful 
 matrimony wit with wisdom. Is there not 
 Dollond the Optician? Dalembert and 
 Diderot among those Encyclopedists with 
 whose renown 
 
 all Europe rings from side to side, 
 
 Derham the Astro-Physico and Christo 
 Theologian, Dillenius the botanist, Dion 
 who for his eloquence was called the golden- 
 mouthed; Diagoras who boldly despising 
 the false Gods of Greece, blindly and auda- 
 ciously denied the God of Nature. Diocles 
 who invented the cissoid, Deodati, Diodorus, 
 and Dion Cassius. Thus rich was the letter 
 D, even before the birth of Sir Humphrey 
 Davy, and the catastrophe of Doctor Dodd : 
 before Daniel Mendoza triumphed over 
 Humphreys in the ring, and before Diony- 
 
 sius Lardner, Professor at the St 'ni- 
 
 versity of London, projected the Cabinet 
 Cyclopaedia, Daniel O'Connell fought Mr. 
 Peel, triumphed over the Duke of Welling- 
 ton, bullied the British Government, and 
 changed the British Constitution. 
 
 If we look to the fine arts, he pursued, 
 the names of Douw, and Durer, Dolce and 
 Dominichino instantly occur. In my own 
 profession, among the ancients Dioscorides; 
 among the moderns Dippel, whose marvel- 
 lous oil is not more exquisitely curious in 
 preparation than powerful in its use ; Dover 
 of the powder ; Dalby of the Carminative ; 
 Daffy of the Elixir ; Deventer by whom 
 the important art of bringing men into the 
 world has been so greatly improved; Douglas, 
 who has rendered lithotomy so beautiful an 
 operation, that he asserteth in his motto it 
 may be done speedily, safely, and pleasantly ; 
 Dessault, now rising into fame among the 
 Continental surgeons, and Dimsdale who is 
 extending the blessings of inoculation. Of 
 persons eminent for virtue or sanctity, who 
 ever in friendship exceeded Damon, the 
 friend of Pythias ? Is there not St. John 
 Damascenus, Dr. Doddridge, Deborah the 
 Xurse of Rebekah, who was buried beneath 
 Beth-el under an Oak, which was called Allon- 
 bachuth, the Oak of Weeping, and Deborah 
 
 the wife of Lapidoth, who dwelt under her 
 palm-trees between Ramah and Beth-el in 
 Mount Ephraim, where the children of Israel 
 came up to her for judgment, for she was a 
 mother in Israel ; Deinas for whom St. Paul 
 greets the Colossians, and whom he calleth 
 his fellow labourer ; and Dorcas which being 
 interpreted is in Hebrew Tabitha and in 
 English Doe, who was full of good works 
 and alms-deeds, whom therefore Peter raised 
 from the dead, and whom the Greeks might 
 indeed truly have placed among the Atvrt- 
 po7ror/*oi; Daniel already named, but never 
 to be remembered too often, and Dan the 
 father of his tribe. Grave writers there are, 
 the Doctor would say, who hesitate not to 
 affirm that Dan was the first King of Den- 
 mark, more properly called Danmark from 
 his name, and that he instituted there the 
 military order of Dannebrog. With the 
 pretensions of these Danish Antiquaries, 
 he pursued, I meddle not. There is surer 
 authority for the merits of this my first 
 namesake. " Dan shall judge his people, as 
 one of the tribes of Israel. Dan shall be a 
 serpent by the way, an adder in the path, 
 that biteth the horse's heels, so that his rider 
 shall fall backward." Daniel, quoth the 
 Doctor, is commonly abbreviated into Dan, 
 from whence doubtless it taketh its root ; 
 and the Daniel therefore who is not wise as 
 a serpent, falsifieth the promise of the patri- 
 arch Jacob. 
 
 That this should have been the Dan who 
 founded the kingdom of Denmark he deemed 
 an idle fancy. King Dans in that country, 
 however, there have been, and among them 
 was King Dan called Mykelati or the Mag- 
 nificent, with whom the Bruna Olid, or age 
 of Combustion, ended in the North, and the 
 Houghs Olid or age of barrows began, for 
 he it was who introduced the custom of in- 
 terment. But he considered it as indeed an 
 honour to the name, that Death should have 
 been called Advog by the Macedonians, not 
 as a dialectic or provincial form of Qdvarof 
 but from the Hebrew Dan, which signifies, 
 says Jeremy Taylor, a Judge, as intimating 
 that Judges are appointed to give sentence 
 upon criminals in life and death.
 
 460 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Even if we look at the black side of the 
 shield we still find that the D preserves its 
 power : there is Dathan, who with Korah 
 and Abiram went down alive into the pit, 
 and the earth closed upon them ; Dalila by 
 whom Sampson was betrayed ; Dionysius 
 the acoustical tyrant ; Domitian who like a 
 true vice-gerent of Beelzebub tormented 
 flies as well as men ; Decius the fiercest of 
 the persecutors ; the inhuman Dunstan, and 
 the devilish Dominic, after whom it seems all 
 but an anticlimax to name the ipsissimus 
 Diabolus, the Devil himself. And here let 
 us remark through how many languages the 
 name of the author of evil retains its charac- 
 teristic initial, Aie/3oXof, Diabolus, Diavolo, 
 Diablo, Diabo, Diable, in Dutch Duival, in 
 Welsh Diawl, and though the Germans write 
 him Teufel, it is because in their coarser 
 articulation the D passes into the cognate 
 sound of T, without offending their obtuser 
 organs of hearing. Even in the appellations 
 given him by familiar or vulgar irreverence, 
 the same pregnant initial prevails, he is the 
 Deuce, and Old Davy and Davy Jones. 
 And it may be noted that in the various 
 systems of false religion to which he hath 
 given birth, the Delta is still a dominant 
 inchoative. Witness Dagon of the Philis- 
 tines, witness the Daggial of the Mahom- 
 medans, and the forgotten root from whence 
 the Aiof of the Greeks is derived. Why 
 should I mention the Roman Diespiter, the 
 Syrian Dirceto, Delius with his sister Delia, 
 known also as Dictynna and the great Diana 
 of the Ephesians. The Sicyonian Dia, 
 Dione of whom Venus was born, Deiphobe 
 the Cumsean Sybil who conducted -3Sneas in 
 his descent to the infernal regions. Doris 
 the mother of the Nereids, and Dorus father 
 of the race of Pygmies. Why should I 
 name the Dioscuri, Dice and Dionysus, the 
 Earth, Mother Demeter, the Demiourgos, 
 gloomy Dis, Demogorgon dread and Daphne 
 whom the Gods converted into a Laurel to 
 decorate the brows of Heroes and Poets. 
 
 Truly, he would say, it may be called a 
 dynamic letter ; and not without mystery 
 did the Hebrews call it Daleth, the door, as 
 though it were the door of speech. Then 
 
 its form ! how full of mysteries ! The wise 
 Egyptians represented it by three stars dis- 
 posed in a triangle : it was their hieroglyphic 
 of the Deity. In Greek it is the Delta. 
 
 In this form were the stupendous Pyra- 
 mids built, when the sage Egyptians are 
 thought to have emblematised the soul of 
 man, which the Divine Plato supposed to be 
 of this shape. This is the mysterious tri- 
 angle, whicn the Pythagoreans called Pallas, 
 because they said it sprang from the brain 
 of Jupiter, and Tritogeneia, because if three 
 right lines were drawn from its angles to 
 meet in the centre, a triple birth of triangles 
 was produced, each equal to the other. 
 
 I pass reverently the diviner mysteries 
 which have been illustrated from hence, and 
 may perhaps be typified herein. Nor will I 
 do more than touch upon the mechanical 
 powers which we derive from a knowledge 
 of the properties of the figures, and upon 
 the science of Trigonometry. In its Roman 
 and more familiar form, the Letter hath 
 also sublime resemblances or prototypes. 
 The Rainbow resting upon the earth de- 
 scribes its form. Yea, the Sky and the 
 Earth represent a grand and immeasurable 
 D ; for when you stand upon a boundless 
 plain, the space behind you and before in 
 infinite longitude is the straight line, and 
 the circle of the firmament which bends 
 from infinite altitude to meet it, forms the 
 bow. 
 
 For himself, he said, it was a never failing 
 source of satisfaction when he reflected how
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 4(51 
 
 richly his own destiny was endowed with 
 Ds. The D was the star of his ascendant. 
 There was in the accident of his life, and 
 he desired it to be understood as using the 
 word accident in its scholastic acceptations, 
 a concatenation, a concentration. Yea 
 he might venture to call it a constellation of 
 Ds. Dove he was born ; Daniel he was 
 baptized ; Daniel was the name of his father ; 
 Dinah of his mother, Deborah of his wife ; 
 Doctor was his title, Doncaster his dwelling- 
 place ; in the year of his marriage, which 
 next to that of his birth was the most im- 
 portant of his life, D was the Dominical 
 letter ; and in the amorous and pastoral 
 strains wherein he had made his passion 
 known in the magazines, he had called him- 
 self Damon and his mistress Delia. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXVI. 
 
 THE DOCTOR DISCOVERS THE ANTIQUITY OF 
 THE NAME OF DOVE FEOM PERUSING 
 JACOB BRYANT'S ANALYSIS OF ANCIENT 
 MYTHOLOGY. CHRISTOPHER AND FERDI- 
 NAND COLUMBUS. SOMETHING ABOUT 
 
 PIGEON-PIE, AND THE REASON WHY THE 
 DOCTOR WAS INCLINED TO THINK FAVOUR- 
 ABLY OF THE SAMARITANS. 
 
 An I take the humour of a tnmg once, 1 am like your 
 tailor's needle ; I go through. BEN JONSON. 
 
 DOVE also was a name which abounded with 
 mystical significations, and which derived 
 peculiar significance from its mysterious 
 conjunction with Daniel. Had it not been 
 said, " Be ye wise as serpents and harmless 
 as Doves ? " To him the text was person- 
 ally applicable in both parts. Dove he was 
 by birth. Daniel by baptism or the second 
 birth, and Daniel was Dan, and Dan shall 
 be a serpent by the way. 
 
 But who can express his delight when in 
 perusing Jacob Bryant's Analysis of ancient 
 Mythology, he found that so many of the 
 most illustrious personages of antiquity 
 proved to be Doves, when their names were 
 truly interpreted or properly understood! 
 That erudite interpreter of hidden things 
 
 taught him that the name of the Dove was 
 Ion and Ibnah, whence in immediate de- 
 scent the Oa'n and Cannes of Berosus and 
 Abydenus, and in longer but lineal deduc - 
 tion .3Sneas, Hannes, Hanno, lonah, 'Icoj''r/c, 
 Johannes, Janus, Eanus among the elder 
 Romans, Giovanni among the later Italians, 
 Juan, Joam, Jean, John, Jan, Iwain, Ivan, 
 Ewan, Owen, Evan, Hans, Ann, Hannah, 
 Nannette, Jane, Jeannette, Jeanne, Joanna 
 and Joan ; all who had ever borne these 
 names, or any name derived from the same 
 radical, as doubtless many there were in 
 those languages of which he had no know- 
 ledge, nor any means of acquiring it, being 
 virtually Doves. Did not Bryant expressly 
 say that the prophet Jonah was probably 
 so named as a messenger of the Deity, the 
 mystic Dove having been from the days of 
 Jonah regarded as a sacred symbol among 
 all nations where any remembrance of the 
 destruction and renovation of mankind was 
 preserved! It followed therefore that the 
 prophet Jonah, Hannibal, St. John, Owen 
 Glendower, Joan of Arc, Queen Anne, Miss 
 Hannah More, and Sir Watkin Williams 
 Wynn, were all of them his namesakes, to 
 pretermit or pass over Pope Joan, Little 
 John, and Jack the Giantkiller. And this 
 followed, not like the derivation of King 
 Pepin from "O<nrip, by a jump in the pro- 
 cess, such as that from AioTrtp to Napkin ; 
 nor like the equally well known identification 
 of a Pigeon with an Eel Pye, in the logic of 
 which the Doctor would have detected a 
 fallacy, but in lawful etymology, and ac- 
 cording to the strict interpretation of words. 
 If he looked for the names through the 
 thinner disguise of language there was Semi- 
 ramis, who having been fed by Doves was 
 named after them. What was Zurita the 
 greatest historian of Arragon, but a young 
 stock Dove? What were the three Palo- 
 minos so properly enumerated in the Bib- 
 liotheca of Nicolas Antonio? Pedro the 
 Benedictine in whose sermons a more than 
 ordinary breathing of the spirit might not 
 unreasonably be expected from his name; 
 Francisco, who translated into Castillian the 
 Psychomachia of the Christian poet Aurelius
 
 402 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Prudentius, and Diego the Prior of Xodar, 
 whose Liber de mutatione aeris, in quo assi- 
 dua, et mirabilis ntutationis temporum historia, 
 cum suis causis, enarratur, he so greatly re- 
 gretted that he had never been able to pro- 
 cure ; what were these Palominos ? what 
 but Doves ? Father Colombiere who 
 framed the service for the Heart of Jesus, 
 which was now so fashionable in Catholic 
 countries, was clearly of the Dove genus. 
 St. Columba was a decided Dove ; three 
 there were certainly, the Senonian, the Cor- 
 dovan and the Cornish : and there is reason 
 to believe that there was a fourth also, a 
 female Dove, who held a high rank in 
 St. Ursula's great army of virgins. Co- 
 lumbo the Anatomist, deservedly eminent 
 as one of those who by their researches led 
 the way for Harvey, he also was a Dove. 
 Lastly, and the Doctor in fine taste 
 always reserved the greatest glory of the 
 Dove name, for the conclusion of his dis- 
 course lastly, there was Christopher Co- 
 lumbus, whom he used to call his famous 
 namesake. And he never failed to commend 
 Ferdinand Columbus for the wisdom and 
 piety with which he had commented upon 
 the mystery of the name, to remark that his 
 father had conveyed the grace of the Holy 
 Ghost to the New World, shewing to the 
 people who knew him not who was God's be- 
 loved son, as the Holy Ghost had done in the 
 figure of a Dove at the baptism of St. John, 
 and bearing like Noah's Dove the Olive 
 Branch, and the Oil of Baptism over the 
 waters of the ocean. 
 
 And what would our onomatologist have 
 said if he had learned to read these words 
 in that curious book of the &c. family, the 
 Oriental fragments of Major Edward Moor : 
 " In respect to St. Columba, or Colomb, 
 and other superstitious names and things in 
 close relationship, I shall have in another 
 place something to say. I shall try to con- 
 nect Col-omb, with Kal-O'm, those infi- 
 nitely mysterious words of Hindu mythology: 
 and with these, divers Mythe, converging 
 into or diverging from O'M A U M, 
 the Irish Ogham, I A M, Amen, I Aft) 
 Il-Kolmkill, &c. &c. &c." Surely had 
 
 the onomatologist lived to read this passage, 
 he would forthwith have opened and cor- 
 responded with the benevolent and erudite 
 etcaeterarist of Bealings. 
 
 These things were said in his deeper 
 moods. In the days of courtship he had 
 said in song that Venus's car was drawn by 
 Doves, regretting at the time that an allu- 
 sion which came with such peculiar felicity 
 from him, should appear to common readers 
 to mean nothing more than what rhymers 
 from time immemorial had said before him. 
 After marriage he often called Mrs. Dove 
 his Turtle, and in his playful humours, when 
 the gracefulness of youth had gradually 
 been superseded by a certain rotundity of 
 form, he sometimes named her $<-ra, his 
 ring-dove. Then he would regret that she 
 had not proved a stock-dove, and if she 
 frowned at him, or looked grave, she was 
 his pouting pigeon. 
 
 One inconvenience, however, Mrs. Dove 
 felt from his reverence for the name. He 
 never suffered a pigeon-pie at his table. 
 And when he read that the Samaritans were 
 reproached with retaining a trace of Assy- 
 rian superstition because they held it un- 
 lawful to eat this bird, he was from that 
 time inclined, to think favourably of the 
 schismatics of Mount Gerizim. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXVH. 
 
 SOMETHING ON THE SCIENCE AND MYSTERY 
 OF NUMBERS WHICH IS NOT ACCORDING TO 
 COCKER. REVERIES OF JEAN D'ESPAGNE, 
 MINISTER OF THE FRENCH - REFORMED 
 CHURCH IN WESTMINSTER, AND OF MR. 
 JOHN BELLAMY. A PITHY REMARK OF 
 FULLER'S AND AN EXTRACT FROM HIS 
 PISGAH SIGHT OF PALESTINE, TO RE- 
 CREATE THE READER. 
 
 None are so surely caught, when they are catch'd, 
 As wit turn'd fool : folly, in wisdom hatch'd, 
 Hath wisdom's warrant, and the help of school, 
 And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. 
 
 IT may easily be supposed that the Doctor 
 was versed in the science of numbers ; not
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 463 
 
 merely that common science which is taught 
 at schools and may be learnt from Cocker's 
 Arithmetic, but the more recondite mysteries 
 which have in all ages delighted minds like 
 his ; and of which the richest specimens may 
 be seen in the writings of the Hugonot 
 Minister Jean de 1'Espagne, and in those of 
 our contemporary Mr. John Bellamy, author 
 of the Ophion, of various papers in the 
 Classical Journal, and defender of the Old 
 and New Testament. 
 
 (Jet aideur est assez digne d'etre lu, says 
 Bayle of Jean de 1'Espagne, and he says it 
 in some unaccountable humour, too gravely 
 for a jest. The writer who is thus recom- 
 mended was Minister of the Reformed 
 French Church in Westminster, which met 
 at that time in Somerset Chapel, and his 
 friend Dr. De Garencieres, who wrote com- 
 mendatory verses upon him in French, Latin 
 and Greek, calls him 
 
 Belie lumiere des Pasteurs, 
 Ornemeid du Siccle ou nous sommes, 
 Qui trouve des admirnleurs 
 Par tout ou il y a des hommes. 
 
 He was one of those men to whom the 
 Bible comes as a book of problems and 
 riddles, a mine in which they are always at 
 work, thinking that whatever they can throw 
 up must needs be gold. Among the various 
 observations which he gave the world with- 
 out any other order, as he says, than that in 
 which they presented themselves to his me- 
 mory, there may be found good, bad and 
 indifferent. He thought the English Church 
 had improperly appointed a Clerk to say 
 Amen for the people. Amen being intended, 
 among other reasons, as a mark whereby to 
 distinguish those who believed with the 
 officiating Priest from Idolaters and Heretics. 
 He thought it was not expedient that Jews 
 should be allowed to reside in England, for 
 a Jew would perceive in the number of our 
 tolerated sects, a confusion worse than that 
 of Babel ; and as the multitude here are 
 always susceptible of every folly which is 
 offered, and the more monstrous the faith, 
 to them the better mystery, it was to be 
 feared, he said, that for the sake of con- 
 verting two or three Jews we were exposing 
 
 a million Christians to the danger of Ju- 
 daising ; or at least that we should see new 
 religions start up, compounded of Judaism 
 with Christianity. He was of opinion, in 
 opposition to what was then generally 
 thought in England, that one might in- 
 nocently say God bless you, to a person who 
 sneezed, though he candidly admitted that 
 there was no example either in the Old or 
 New Testament, and that in all the Scrip- 
 tures only one person is mentioned as having 
 sneezed, to wit the Shunamite's son. He 
 thought it more probable from certain texts 
 that the Soul at death departs by way of the 
 nostrils, than by way of the mouth according 
 to the vulgar notion : had he previously 
 ascertained which way it came in, he would 
 have had no difficulty in deciding which way 
 it went out. And he propounded and re- 
 solved a question concerning Jephtha which 
 no person but himself ever thought of 
 asking : Pourquoy Dieu voulant delivrer les 
 Israelites, leur donna pour liberateur, noire 
 pour Chef et Gouverneur perpetuel, un _/?/* 
 cTune paittarde f " O Jephtha, Judge of 
 Israel," that a Frenchman should call thee 
 in filthy Frenches dune putain! 
 
 But the peculiar talent of the Belle 
 Lumiere des Pasteurs was for cabalistic 
 researches concerning numbers, or what he 
 calls UHarmonie du Temps. Numbers, he 
 held, (and every generation, every family, 
 every individual was marked with one,) 
 were not the causes of what came to pass, 
 but they were marks or impresses which 
 God set upon his works, distinguishing them 
 by the difference of these their cyphers. 
 And he laid it down as a rule that in doubt- 
 ful points of computation, the one wherein 
 some mystery could be discovered was 
 always to be preferred. QUOT ? (think 
 how triumphantly his mouth opened and his 
 nose was erected and his nostrils were dilated, 
 when he pronounced that interrogation) 
 QOOY ? la variete de nos opinions qui provient 
 d 1 imperfection, aneantira-t-elle les merveittes 
 de Dieu f In the course of his Scriptural 
 computations he discovered that when the 
 Sun stood still at the command of Joshua, it 
 was precisely 2555 years after the Creation,
 
 464 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 that is seven years of years, a solar week, 
 after which it had been preordained that the 
 Sun should thus have its sabbath of rest : 
 Ceci riest-il pas admirable ? It was on the 
 tenth year of the tenth year of the years 
 that the Sun went back ten degrees, which 
 was done to show the chronology : ou est le 
 stupide qui ne soit ravi en admiration (Tune si 
 celeste harmonic f With equal sagacity and 
 equal triumph he discovered how the ge- 
 nerations from Adam to Christ went by 
 twenty -twos ; and the generations of Christ 
 by sevens, being 77 in all, and that from the 
 time the promise of the Seed was given till 
 its fulfilment there elapsed a week of years, 
 seven times seventy years, seventy weeks of 
 years, and seven times seventy weeks of 
 years, by which beautiful geometry, if he 
 might be permitted to use so inadequate a 
 term, the fullness of time was made up. 
 
 What wonderful significations also hath 
 Mr. Bellamy in his kindred pursuits dis- 
 covered and darkly pointed out ! Doth he 
 not tell us of seven steps, seven days, seven 
 priests, seven rams, seven bullocks, seven 
 trumpets, seven shepherds, seven stars, seven 
 spirits, seven eyes, seven lamps, seven pipes, 
 seven heads, four wings, four beasts, four 
 kings, four kingdoms, four carpenters ; the 
 number three he has left unimproved, but 
 for two, 
 
 which number Nature framed 
 In the most useful faculties of man, 
 To strengthen mutually and relieve each other, 
 Two eyes, two ears, two arms, two legs and feet, 
 That where one failed the other might mpply, 
 
 for this number Mr. Bellamy has two cheru- 
 bims, two calves, two turtles, two birds alive, 
 two *, two baskets of figs, 
 
 two olive trees, two women grinding, two 
 men in the fields, two woes, two witnesses, 
 two candlesticks ; and when he descends to 
 the unit, he tells us of one tree, one heart, 
 one stick, one fold, one pearl, to which we 
 must add one Mr. John Bellamy the Pearl of 
 Commentators. 
 
 But what is this to the exquisite manner 
 in which he elucidates the polytheism of the 
 
 The blank is in the MS. 
 
 Greeks and Romans, showing us that the 
 inferior Gods of their mythology were in 
 their origin only men who had exercised 
 certain departments in the state, a discovery 
 which he illustrates in a manner the most 
 familiar, and at the same time the most 
 striking for its originality. Thus, he says, 
 if the Greeks and Romans had been Eng- 
 lishmen, or if we Englishmen of the present 
 day were Greeks and Romans, we should 
 call our Secretary at War, Lord Batlmrst 
 for instance, Mars ; the Lord Chancellor 
 (Lord Eldon to wit) Mercury, as being at 
 the head of the department for eloquence. 
 (But as Mercury is also the God of thieves 
 may not Mr. Bellamy, grave as he is, be 
 suspected of insinuating here that the Gen- 
 tlemen of the Long Robe are the most 
 dextrous of pickpockets ?) The first Lord 
 of the Admiralty, Neptune. The President 
 of the College of Physicians, Apollo. The 
 President of the Board of Agriculture, 
 Janus. Because with one face he looked 
 forward to the new year, while at the same 
 time he looked back with the other on the 
 good or bad management of the agriculture 
 of the last, wherefore he was symbolically 
 represented with a second face at the back 
 of his head. Again Mr. Bellamy seems to 
 be malicious, in thus typifying or seeming to 
 typify Sir John Sinclair between two ad- 
 ministrations with a face for both. The 
 ranger of the forests, he proceeds, would be 
 denominated Diana. The Archbishop of 
 Canterbury, Minerva ; Minerva in a 
 Bishop's wig ! The first Lord of the Trea- 
 sury, Juno ; and the Society of Suppression 
 of Vice, Reader, lay thy watch upon the 
 table, and guess for three whole minutes 
 what the Society for the Suppression of Vice 
 would be called upon this ingenious scheme, 
 if the Greeks and Romans were Englishmen 
 of the present generation, or if we of the 
 present generation were heathen Greeks and 
 Romans. I leave a carte blanche before this, 
 lest thine eye outrunning thy judgment, 
 should deprive thee of that proper satisfac- 
 tion which thou wilt feel if thou shouldst 
 guess aright. But exceed not the time which 
 I have affixed for thee, for if thou dost not
 
 THE DOCTOR. 4C5 
 
 guess aright in three minutes, thou wouldest 
 
 Moses : six square, the Petitions or the 
 
 not in as many years. 
 
 Lord's Prayer : seven square, their Sacra- 
 
 
 ments: eight square, the Beatitudes: nine 
 
 
 square, the Orders of Angels : ten square, 
 
 
 the Commandments : eleven square, the 
 
 
 moral virtues : twelve square, the articles o 
 
 
 the creed are therein contained. In a wore 
 
 
 for matter of numbers fancy is never 
 
 
 at a loss like a beggar, never out of her 
 
 
 way, but hath some haunts where to repose 
 
 
 itself. But such as in expounding scriptures 
 
 VENUS. Yes, Reader. By Cyprus and 
 
 reap more than God did sow there, never 
 
 Paphos and the Groves of Idalia, by the 
 
 eat what they reap themselves, because such 
 
 little God Cupid, by all the Loves and 
 Doves, and by the lobbies of the London 
 
 grainless husks, when seriously thrashed out, 
 vanish all into chaff.* 
 
 theatres he calls the Society for the Sup- 
 
 
 pression of Vice, VENUS ! 
 
 
 Fancy, says Fuller, runs riot when 
 
 
 spurred with superstition. This is his 
 
 
 marginal remark upon a characteristic para- 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXVm. 
 
 graph concerning the Chambers about 
 
 
 Solomon's Temple, with which I will here 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF NUMBERS PURSUED, AND 
 
 recreate the reader. " As for the mystical 
 
 CERTAIN CALCULATIONS GIVEN WHICH 
 
 meaning of these chambers, Bede no doubt, 
 
 MAT REMIND THE READER OF OTHER CAL- 
 
 thought he hit the very mark when finding 
 therein the three conditions of life, all be- 
 
 CULATIONS EQUALLY CORRECT. ANAGRAM- 
 MATISING OF NAMES, AND THE DOCTOR'S 
 
 longing to God's Church : in the ground 
 
 SUCCESS THEREIN. 
 
 chamber, such as live in marriage ; in the 
 
 " There is no efficacy in numbers, said the wiser Phi- 
 
 middle chamber such as contract ; but in 
 
 losophers ; and very truly," saith Bishop Hacket in re- 
 peating this sentence ; but he continues " some numbers 
 
 the excelsis or third story, such as have 
 
 are apt to enforce a reverent esteem towards them, by 
 
 attained to the sublimity of perpetual 
 virginity. Rupertus in the lowest chamber 
 
 considering miraculous occurrences which fell out in holy 
 Scripture on such and such a number. N&n potest Jor- 
 tuitd fieri, quod tarn stepe Jit, says Maldonatus, whom I 
 
 lodgeth those of practical lives with Noah ; 
 
 never find superstitious in this matter. It falls out too 
 
 in the middle those of mixed lives with 
 
 often to be called contingent ; and the oftener it falls out, 
 the more to be attended." f 
 
 Job; and in the highest such as spend 
 
 
 their days with Daniel in holy speculations. 
 
 THIS choice morsel hath led us from the 
 
 But is not this rather lusus, than alhisio, 
 
 science of numbers. Great account hath 
 
 sporting with, than expounding of scrip- 
 
 been made of that science in old times. 
 
 tures ? Thus when the gates of the Oracle 
 
 There was an epigrammatist who discovering 
 
 are made five square, Ribera therein reads 
 
 that the name of his enemy Damagoras 
 
 our conquest over the five senses, and when 
 
 amounted in numerical letters to the same 
 
 those of the door r if the Temple are said to 
 
 sum as Aot/ioc the plague, inferred from 
 
 be four square, therein saith he is denoted 
 
 thence that Damagoras and the Plague were 
 
 the quaternion of Evangelists. After this 
 
 one and the same thing ; a stingless jest 
 
 rate, Hiram (though no doubt dexterous in 
 
 serving, like many satires of the present age, 
 
 his art) could not so soon fit a pillar with a 
 
 to show the malice and not the wit of the 
 
 fashion as a Friar can fit that fashion with a 
 
 
 mystery. If made three square, then the 
 
 
 Trinity of Persons: four square, the cardinal 
 
 Pisgah Sight of Palestine, Book iii. c. vii. 
 t On referring to Bishop Hacket's Sermons I find this 
 
 virtues : five square, the Pentateuch of 
 
 Motto is not copied out Verbatim. See p. 245.
 
 466 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 satirist. But there were those among the 
 
 AavuX. 
 
 ancients who believed that stronger influen- 
 
 A 4 
 
 ces existed in the number of a name, and 
 
 a 1 
 
 that because of their arithmetical inferiority 
 
 v 50 
 
 in this point, Patroclus was slain by Hector, 
 
 t 10 
 
 and Hector by Achilles. Diviners grounded 
 
 c 5 
 
 upon this a science which they called Ono- 
 
 X 30 
 
 .. A *T4-V*v^rtvrt*^4-"rt lA r l*y-wv A Tn *^^ 
 
 
 maniia or -/i-iiiiiiiioiii timid. >> ncn ivLaurice 
 of Saxony, to the great fear of those who 
 
 Daniel 100 
 
 were most attached to him, engaged in war 
 
 
 
 against Charles V., some one encouraged 
 
 
 his desponding friends by this augury, and 
 
 Af/3opa 
 
 said that if the initials of the two names 
 
 A 4 
 
 were considered, it would be seen that the 
 
 5 
 
 fortunes of Maurice preponderated over those 
 
 P 2 
 
 of Charles in the proportion of a thousand 
 
 o 70 
 
 to a hundred. 
 
 p 100 
 
 A science like this conld not be without 
 
 a 1 
 
 attractions for the Doctor ; and it was with 
 
 
 
 no little satisfaction that he discovered in 
 
 Deborah 182 
 
 the three Ds with which his spoons and his 
 
 
 house linen were marked, by considering 
 
 , 
 
 them as so many capital Deltas, the figures 
 
 AM 
 
 444, combining the complex virtues of the 
 
 4 
 
 9fg\ 
 
 four thrice told. But he discovered greater 
 
 o 70 
 
 A f\f\ 
 
 secrets in the names of himself and his wife 
 
 v 40O 
 
 when taken at full length. He tried them 
 
 t 5 
 
 in Latin, and could obtain no satisfactory re- 
 
 Dove 479 
 
 sult ; nor had he any better success in Greek 
 
 
 when he observed the proper orthography 
 
 
 of Aaviq\ and Ae/?/3wpa.* But anagram- 
 
 The whole being added together gave the 
 
 matists are above the rules of orthography, 
 
 following product 
 
 just as Kings, Divines and Lawyers are 
 
 
 privileged, if it pleases them, to dispense 
 
 Daniel 100 
 
 with the rules of grammar. Taking these 
 
 Deborah 182 
 
 words therefore letter by letter according 
 
 Dove 479 
 
 to the common pronunciation (for who said 
 
 7fil 
 
 he pronounces them Danieel and Deboarah?) 
 
 * \J L 
 
 and writing the surname in Greek letters 
 
 
 instead of translating it, the sum which it 
 
 Here was the number 761 found in fair 
 
 thus produced was equal to his most sanguine 
 
 addition, without any arbitrary change of 
 
 wishes, for thus it proved 
 
 letters, or licentious innovation in orthogra- 
 
 
 phy. And herein was mystery. The num- 
 
 Daniel and Deborah Dove. 
 
 ber 761 is a prime number; from hence 
 
 Arti'itA. AijBopa. Aoi'f. 
 
 the Doctor inferred that, as the number was 
 
 
 indivisible, there could be no division be- 
 
 ' 
 
 tween himself and Mrs. Dove ; an inference 
 
 
 which the harmony of their lives fully war- 
 
 * At/Wfl5 Gen. xxxv. 8., At/3^ Judges iv. 4. The 
 
 ranted. And this alone would have amply 
 
 double f will not affect the mystery I 
 
 rewarded his researches. But a richer dis-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 407 
 
 covery flashed upon him. The year 1761 
 was the year of his marriage, and to make 
 up the deficient thousand there was M for 
 marriage and matrimony. These things, he 
 would say, must never be too explicit ; their 
 mysterious character would be lost if they 
 lay upon the surface ; like precious metals 
 and precious stones you must dig to find 
 them. 
 
 He had bestowed equal attention and 
 even more diligence in anagrammatising the 
 names. His own indeed furnished him at 
 first with a startling and by no means agree- 
 able result ; for, upon transposing the com- 
 ponent letters of Daniel Dove, there appeared 
 the words Leaden void! Nor was he more 
 fortunate in a Latin attempt, which gave 
 him Dan vile Deo. Vel dona Dei, as far as 
 it bore a semblance of meaning, was better ; 
 but when, after repeated dislocations and 
 juxta-positions, there came forth the words 
 Dead in love, Joshua Sylvester was not 
 more delighted at finding that Jacobus Stu- 
 art made justa scrutabo, and James Stuart 
 A just Master, than the Doctor, for it was 
 in the May days of his courtship. In the 
 course of these anagrammatical experiments 
 he had a glimpse of success, which made 
 him feel for a moment like a man whose 
 lottery ticket is next in number to the 
 20,000 prize. Dove failed only in one 
 letter of being Ovid. In old times they did 
 not stand upon trifles in these things, and 
 John Bunyan was perfectly satisfied with 
 extracting from his name the words Nu hony 
 in a B, a sentence of which the ortho- 
 graphy and the import are worthy of each 
 other. But although the Doctor was con- 
 tented with a very small sufficit of meaning, 
 he could not depart so violently from the let- 
 ters here. The disappointment was severe, 
 though momentary : it was, as we before 
 observed, in the days of his courtship ; and 
 could he thus have made out his claim to 
 be called Ovid, he had as clear a right to 
 add Naso as the poet of Sulmo himself, or 
 any of the Nasonic race, for he had been 
 at the promontory, " and why indeed Naso," 
 as Holofernes has said? Why not merely 
 for that reason " looking toward Damascus," 
 
 which may be found in the second volume 
 of this work, in the sixty-third chapter 
 and at the two hundred and thirtieth page *, 
 but also " for smelling out the odoriferous 
 flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention ?"f 
 
 Thus much for his own name. After mar- 
 riage he added his wife's with the conjunc- 
 tion copulative, and then came out Dear 
 Delia had bound one : nothing could be more 
 felicitous, Delia, as has already been noticed, 
 having been the poetical name by which 
 he addressed the object of his affections. 
 Another result was, / hadden a dear bond- 
 love, but having some doubts as to the syn- 
 tax of the verb, and some secret dislike to 
 its obsolete appearance, he altered it into 
 Ned, I had a dear bond-love, as though he 
 was addressing his friend Dr. Miller the 
 organist, whose name was Edward. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXIX. 
 
 THE SUBJECT OF ANAGRAMS CONTINUED ', A 
 TRUE OBSERVATION WHICH MANY FOR 
 WANT OF OBSERVATION WILL NOT DIS- 
 COVER TO BE SCCH, VIZ., THAT THERE 
 IS A LATENT SUPERSTITION EN THE 
 MOST RATIONAL OF HEN. LUCKY AND 
 
 UNLUCKY FITTING AND UNFITTING 
 
 ANAGRAMS, AND HOW THE DOCTOR'S 
 TASTE IN THIS LINE WAS DERIVED FROM 
 OUR OLD ACQUAINTANCE JOSHUA SYL- 
 VESTER. 
 
 Ha gran forza una vecchia opinione ; 
 E bisngna grand' arte, e gran fatica, 
 A cavaria del capo alle persone. 
 
 BRONZING FITTOBB. 
 
 ANAGRAMS are not likely ever again to hold 
 so high a place among the prevalent pursuits 
 of literature as they did in the seventeenth 
 century, when Louis XIII. appointed the 
 Provengal Thomas Billen to be his Royal 
 Anagrammatist, and granted him a salary of 
 1200 livres. But no person will ever hit 
 upon an apt one without feeling that degree 
 of pleasure and surprise with which any odd 
 
 This refers to the 8vo. Edition. See page 134 of 
 this Edition, 
 t Love's Labour Lost, Act iv. Sc. ii. 
 
 H H 2
 
 4G3 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 coincidence is remarked. Has any one who 
 knows Johnny the Bear heard his name thus 
 anagrammatised without a smile ? We may 
 be sure he smiled and growled at the same 
 time when he first heard it himself. 
 
 Might not Father Salvator Mile, and 
 Father Louis Almerat, who were both 
 musicians, have supposed themselves as 
 clearly predestinated to be musical, as ever 
 seventh son of a Septimus thought himself 
 born for the medical profession, if they had 
 remarked what Penrose discovered for them, 
 that their respective names, with the F for 
 Friar prefixed, each contained the letters of 
 the six musical notes ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la, 
 and not a letter more or less ? 
 
 There is, and always hath been, and ever 
 will be, a latent superstition in the most 
 rational of men. It belongs to the weakness 
 and dependence of human nature. Believing, 
 as the Scriptures teach us to believe, that signs 
 and tokens have been vouchsafed in many 
 cases, is it to be wondered at that we seek 
 for them sometimes in our moods of fancy, 
 or that they suggest themselves to us in 
 our fears and our distress ? Men may cast 
 off religion and extinguish their conscience 
 without ridding themselves of this innate 
 and inherent tendency. 
 
 Proper names have all in their origin been 
 significant in all languages. It was easy for 
 men who brooded over their own imagina- 
 tions, to conceive that they might contain in 
 their elements a more recondite, and perhaps, 
 fatidical signification ; and the same turn or 
 twist of mind which led the Cabbalists to 
 their extravagant speculations have taken 
 this direction, when confined within the 
 limits of languages which have no super- 
 natural pretensions. But no serious im- 
 portance was attached to such things, except 
 by persons whose intellects were in some 
 degree deranged. They were sought for 
 chiefly as an acceptable form of compliment, 
 sometimes in self-complacency of the most 
 inoffensive kind, and sometimes for the sting 
 which they might carry with them. Lyco- 
 phron is said to have been the inventor of 
 this trifling. 
 
 The Rules for the true discovery of 
 
 perfect anagrams, as laid down by Mrs. 
 Mary Fage*, allowed as convenient a licence 
 in orthography as the Doctor availed himself 
 of in Greek. 
 
 E may most-what conclude an English word, 
 
 And so a letter at a need afford. 
 
 H is an aspiration and no letter; 
 
 It may be had or left which we think better. 
 
 I may be I or Y as need require ; 
 
 Q ever after doth a U desire ; 
 
 Two Vs may be a double U ; and then 
 
 A double U may be two Vs again. 
 
 X may divided be, and S and C 
 
 May by that letter comprehended be. 
 
 Z a double S may comprehend : 
 
 And lastly an apostrophe may ease 
 
 Sometimes a letter when it doth not please. 
 
 Two of the luckiest hits which anagram- 
 matists have made were on the Attorney 
 General William Noy, / moyl in law ; and 
 Sir Edmundbury Godfrey, I find murdered 
 by rogues. Before Felton's execution it was 
 observed that his anagram was No,flie not. 
 
 A less fortunate one made the Lady 
 Davies mad, or rather fixed the character of 
 .her madness. She was the widow of Sir 
 John Davies, the statesman and poet, and 
 having anagrammatised Eleanor Davies into 
 Reveal O Daniel, she was crazy enough to 
 fancy that the spirit of the Prophet Daniel 
 was incorporated in her. The Doctor men- 
 tioned the case with tenderness and a kind 
 of sympathy. " Though the anagram, says 
 Dr. Heylyn, had too much by an L and too 
 little by an S, yet she found Daniel and 
 Reveal in it, and that served her turn." 
 Setting up for a Prophetess upon this con- 
 ceit, and venturing upon political predictions 
 in sore times, she was brought before the 
 Court of High Commission, where serious 
 pains were preposterously bestowed in en- 
 deavouring to reason her out of an opinion 
 founded on insanity. All, as might have 
 been expected, and ought to have been 
 foreseen, would not do, " till Lamb, then 
 Dean of the Arches, shot her through and 
 through with an arrow borrowed from her 
 own quiver." For while the Divines were 
 reasoning the point with her out of Scripture, 
 
 * In her Fames Roule, or the names of King Charles, 
 his Queen and his most hopeful posterity; together with 
 the names of the Dukes, Marq'iisses, &c., anapramma- 
 tized, and expressed by acrostick lines on their lives. 
 London, 1G37. R. S.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 469 
 
 he took a pen into his hand, and presently 
 finding that the letters of her name might 
 be assorted to her purpose, said to her, 
 Madam, I see that you build much on ana- 
 grams, and I have found out one which I 
 hope will fit you : Dame Eleanor Davies, 
 Never so mad a Ladie ! He then put it into 
 her hands in writing, " which happy fancy 
 brought that grave Court into such a 
 laughter, and the poor woman thereupon 
 into such a confusion, that afterwards she 
 either grew wiser, or was less regarded." 
 This is a case in which it may be admitted 
 that ridicule was a fair test of truth. 
 
 When Henri IV. sent for Marshal Biron 
 to court, with an assurance of full pardon if 
 he would reveal without reserve the whole 
 of his negociations and practices, that rash 
 and guilty man resolved to go and brave all 
 dangers, because certain Astrologers had 
 assured him that his ascendant commanded 
 that of the King, and in confirmation of this 
 some flattering friend discovered in his name 
 Henri de Bourbon this anagram, De Biron 
 Bonheur. Comme ainsi fust, says one of his 
 contemporaries, qu'il en _fist gloire, quelque 
 Gentilhomme bien advise Id present dit 
 tout bos a Foreille d'un sien amy, s'il le pense 
 ainsi il n'est pas sage, ettrouvera qu'il y a du 
 Robin dedans Biron. Robin was a name 
 used at that time by the French as syno- 
 nymous with simpleton. But of unfitting 
 anagrams none were ever more curiously 
 unfit than those which were discovered in 
 Marguerite de Valois, the profligate Queen 
 of Navarre; Salve, Virgo Mater Dei; ou, 
 de vertu royal image ! The Doctor derived 
 his taste for anagrams from the poet with 
 whose rhymes and fancies he had been so 
 well embued in his boyhood, old Joshua 
 Sylvester, who, as the translator of Du 
 Bartas, signed himself to the King in ana- 
 grammatical French Voy Sire Saluste, and 
 was himself addressed in anagrammatical 
 Latin as Vere Os Sahistii. 
 
 " Except Eteostiques," says Drummond of 
 Hawthornden, " I think the Anagram the 
 most idle study in the world of learning. 
 Their maker must be homo miserrimcB pa- 
 tientice, and when he is done, what is it but 
 
 magno eonatu nugas magnas agere ! you may 
 of one and the same name make both good 
 and evil. So did my Uncle find in Anna 
 Regina, Ingannare, as well as of Anna Bri- 
 tannorum Regina, Anna Regnantium Arbor: 
 as he who in Charles de Valois found 
 Chasse la dure lay, and after the massacre 
 found Chasseur desloyal. Often they are 
 most false, as Henri de Bourbon, Bonheur 
 de Biron. Of all the anagrammatists and 
 with least pain, he was the best who, out of 
 his own name, being Jacques de la Chamber, 
 found La Chamber de Jacques, and rested 
 there : and next to him, here at home, a 
 Gentleman whose mistress's name being 
 Anna Grame, he found it an Anagrame 
 already." 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXX. 
 
 THE DOCTOR'S IDEAS OF LUCK, CHANCE, 
 ACCIDENT, FORTUNE, AND MISFORTUNE. 
 THE DUCHESS OF NEWCASTLE'S DISTINC- 
 TION BETWEEN CHANCE AND FORTUNE, 
 WHEREIN NO-MEANING IS MISTAKEN FOE 
 MEANING. AGREEMENT IN OPINION BE- 
 TWEEN THE PHILOSOPHER OF DONCASTER 
 AND THE PHILOSOPHER OF NORWICH. 
 DISTINCTION BETWEEN UNFORTUNATELY 
 UGLY, AND WICKEDLY UGLY. DANGER OF 
 PERSONAL CHARMS. 
 
 "Ern -ytt^ u; i 
 ; ITVZI xxi StXvyi 
 
 t xunfMtnr, >furtn 
 , xxi Tt ui> Xiyot OLIITUI 
 
 a.}.c-/a; uo 
 \ytvffH. 
 
 ir SixTfTK^Scu TXUTU, St rot Xoyot EtVuV eux 
 CONSTANT. ORAT. AD SANCT. CJET. c. vn. 
 
 " Deformity is either natural, voluntary, or adventi- 
 tious, being either caused by God's unseen Providence, 
 (by men nick named, chance,) or by men's cruelty." 
 
 FLLLKK s HOLY STATE, B. iii. c. 15. 
 
 IT may readily be inferred from what has 
 already been said of our Philosopher's way 
 of thinking, that he was not likely to use the 
 words luck, chance, accident, fortune or 
 misfortune, with as little reflection as is 
 ordinarily shown in applying them. The 
 distinction which that fantastic and yet 
 most likeable person Margaret Duchess 
 of Newcastle, makes between Chance and 
 Fortune was far from satisfying him. "For- 
 tune," says her Grace (she might have been
 
 470 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 called her Beauty too), "is only various 
 corporeal motions of several creatures de- 
 signed to one creature, or more creatures ; 
 either to that creature, or those creatures' 
 advantage, or disadvantage; if advantage, 
 man names it Good Fortune ; if disadvan- 
 tage, man names it HI Fortune. As for 
 Chance, it is the visible effects of some hidden 
 cause, and Fortune, a sufficient cause to 
 produce such effects ; for the conjunction of 
 sufficient causes, doth produce such or such 
 effects, which effects could not be produced 
 if any of those causes were wanting : so 
 that Chances are but the effects of Fortune." 
 
 The Duchess had just thought enough 
 about this to fancy that she had a meaning, 
 and if she had thought a little more she 
 might have discovered that she had none. 
 
 The Doctor looked more accurately both 
 to his meaning and his words ; but keeping 
 as he did, in my poor judgment, the golden 
 mean between superstition and impiety, 
 there was nothing in this that savoured of 
 preciseness or weakness, nor of that scru- 
 pulosity which is a compound of both. He 
 did not suppose that trifles and floccinauci- 
 ties of which neither the causes nor con- 
 sequences are of the slightest import, were 
 predestined ; as, for example whether he 
 had beef or mutton for dinner, wore a blue 
 coat or a brown or took off" his wig with 
 his right hand or with his left. He knew 
 that all things are under the direction of 
 almighty and omniscient Goodness ; but as 
 he never was unmindful of that Providence 
 in its dispensations of mercy and of justice, 
 so he never disparaged it. 
 
 Herein the Philosopher of Doncaster 
 agreed with the Philosopher of Norwich 
 who saith, " let not fortune which hath no 
 name in Scripture, have any in thy divinity. 
 Let providence, not chance, have the honour 
 of thy acknowledgements, and be thy 
 (Edipus on contingences. Mark well the 
 paths and winding ways thereof ; but be not 
 too wise in the construction, or sudden in 
 the application. The hand of Providence 
 writes often by abbreviatures, hieroglyphics 
 or short characters, which, like the laconism 
 on the wall, are not to be made out but by a 
 
 hint or key from that spirit which indicted 
 them." * 
 
 Some ill, he thought, was produced in 
 human affairs by applying the term unfor- 
 tunate to circumstances which were brought 
 about by imprudence. A man was unfor- 
 tunate, if being thrown from his horse on a 
 journey, he broke arm or leg, but not if he 
 broke his neck in steeple-hunting, or when 
 in full cry after a fox ; if he were impo- 
 verished by the misconduct of others, not if 
 he were ruined by his own folly and extra- 
 vagance ; if he suffered in any way by the 
 villainy of another, not if he were trans- 
 ported, or hanged for his own. 
 
 Neither would he allow that either man 
 or woman could with propriety be called, 
 as we not unfrequently hear in common 
 speech, unfortunately ugly. Wickedly ugly, 
 he said, they might be, and too often were ; 
 and in such cases the greater their preten- 
 sions to beauty, the uglier they were. But 
 goodness has a beauty of its own, which is 
 not dependent upon form and features, and 
 which makes itself felt and acknowledged, 
 however otherwise ill-favoured the face may 
 be in which it is set. He might have said 
 with Seneca, errare mihi visits est qui dixit 
 
 Oratior est pulchro veniens e corpore virtus y 
 
 nullo enim honestamento eget ; ipsa et magnum 
 sui decus est, et corpus suum consecret. None, 
 he would say with great earnestness, ap- 
 peared so ugly to his instinctive perception 
 as some of those persons whom the world 
 accounted handsome, but upon whom pride, 
 or haughtiness, or conceit had set its stamp, 
 or who bore in their countenances what no 
 countenance can conceal, the habitual ex- 
 pression of any reigning vice, whether it 
 were sensuality and selfishness, or envy, 
 hatred, malice, and uncharitableness. Nor 
 could he regard with any satisfaction a fine 
 
 * The Readers of Jeremy Taylor will not fail to re- 
 member the passage following from his Great Exemplar. 
 
 " God's Judgments are like the writing upon the wall, 
 which was a missive of anger from God upon Belshazzar. 
 It came upon an errand of revenge, and yet was writ in 
 so dark characters that none could read it but a prophet." 
 Disc, xviii. Of the Causes and Manner of the Divine 
 Judgments.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 471 
 
 face which had no ill expression, if it wanted 
 a good one : he had no pleasure in behold- 
 ing mere formal and superficial beauty, that 
 which lies no deeper than the skin, and 
 depends wholly upon " a set of features and 
 complexion." He had more delight, he said, 
 in looking at one of the statues in Mr. Wed- 
 dePs collection, than at a beautiful woman 
 if he read in her face that she was as little 
 susceptible of any virtuous emotion as the 
 marble. While, therefore, he would not 
 allow that any person could be unfortunately 
 ugly, he thought that many were unfor- 
 tunately handsome, and that no wise parent 
 would wish his daughter to be eminently 
 beautiful, lest what in her childhood was 
 naturally and allowably the pride of his eye 
 should, when she grew up, become the grief 
 of his heart. It requires no wide range of 
 observation to discover that the woman who 
 is married for her beauty has little better 
 chance of happiness than she who is married 
 for her fortune. " I have known very few 
 women in my life," said Mrs. Montagu, 
 " whom extraordinary charms and accom- 
 plishments did not make unhappy." 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXXI. 
 
 NO DEGREE OF UGLINESS REALLY UNFOR- 
 TUNATE. FIDUS CORNELIUS COMPARED 
 TO A PLUCKED OSTRICH. WILKES* CLAIM 
 TO UGLINESS CONSIDERED AND NEGATIVED 
 BY DOCTOR JOHNSON, NOTWITHSTANDING 
 HOGARTH'S PORTRAIT. CAST OF THE 
 EYE A LA MONTMORENCY. ST. EVREMOND 
 AND TURENNE. WILLIAM BLAKE THE 
 PAINTER, AND THE WELSH TRIADS. CURI- 
 OUS EXTRACT FROM THAT VERY CURIOUS 
 AND RARE BOOK, THE DESCRIPTIVE CATA- 
 LOGUE OF HIS OWN PICTURES, AND A 
 
 PAINFUL ONE FROM HIS POETICAL 
 SKETCHES. 
 
 " If than beesl not so handsome as thott wotMit have 
 been, thank God t/iou art not more unhandsome than tfiou 
 art. "Tis His mercy thou art not the mark for passen- 
 ger's fingers to point at, an Heteroclite in nature, with 
 gome member defective or redundant. Be glad that thy 
 clay cottage hath all the necessary forms thereto belong- 
 ing, though the outside be not so fairly plaistered as some 
 others." FULLER'S HOLY STATE, iii. c. 15. 
 
 I ASKED him once if there was not a degree 
 of ugliness which might be deemed unfor- 
 
 tunate, because a consciousness of it affected 
 the ill-favoured individual so as to excite in 
 him discontent and envy, and other evil 
 feelings. He admitted that in an evil dis- 
 position it might have this tendency ; but 
 he said a disposition which was injuriously 
 affected by such a cause, would have had 
 other propensities quite as injurious in them- 
 selves and in their direction, evolved and 
 brought into full action by an opposite cause. 
 To exemplify this he instanced the two 
 brothers Edward IV. and Richard III. 
 
 Fidus Cornelius burst into tears in the 
 Roman Senate, because Corbulo called him 
 a plucked ostrich : Adversus alia maledicta 
 mores et vitam convulnerantia^ frontis illi fir- 
 mitas constitit ; adversus hoc tarn absurdum 
 lacrimce prociderunt ; tanta animorum imbe- 
 cillitas est ubi ratio discessit. But instances 
 of such weakness, the Doctor said, are as 
 rare as they are ridiculous. Most people 
 see themselves in the most favourable light. 
 " Ugly ! " a very ugly, but a very conceited 
 fellow, exclaimed one day when he con- 
 templated himself in a looking-glass ; " ugly ! 
 and yet there's something genteel in the 
 face ! " There are more coxcombs in the 
 world than there are vain women ; in the one 
 sex there is a weakness for which time soon 
 brings a certain cure, in the other it deserves 
 a harsher appellation. 
 
 As to ugliness, not only in this respect do 
 we make large allowances for ourselves, but 
 our friends make large allowances for us also. 
 Some one praised Palisson to Madame de 
 Sevigne for the elegance of his manners, the 
 magnanimity, the rectitude, and other vir- 
 tues which he ought to have possessed ; fie 
 bien, she replied, pour moije ne connois que sa 
 laideur ; qu'on me le dedouble done. Wilkes, 
 who pretended as little to beauty, as he did 
 to public virtue, when he was off the stage 
 used to say, that in winning the good graces 
 of a lady there was not more than three 
 days' difference between himself and the 
 handsomest man in England. One of his 
 female partizans praised him for his agree- 
 able person, and being reminded of his 
 squinting, she replied indignantly, that it 
 was not more than a gentleman ought to
 
 472 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 squint. So rightly has Madame de Villedieu 
 observed that 
 
 En mille occasions V amour a Sfea prouver 
 Que lout devient pour lay, matiere a sympathie, 
 Quand il/ait tant que (fen vouloir trouver. 
 
 She no doubt spoke sincerely, according to 
 the light wherein, in the obliquity of her 
 intellectual eyesight, she beheld him. Just 
 as that prince of republican and unbelieving 
 bigots, Thomas Holies, said of the same per- 
 son, " I am sorry for the irregularities of 
 Wilkes ; they are, however, only as spots in 
 the sun ! " " It is the weakness of the 
 many," says a once noted Journalist, " that 
 when they have taken a fancy to a man, or 
 to the name of a man, they take a fancy even 
 to his failings." But there must have been 
 no ordinary charm in the manners of John 
 Wilkes, who in one interview overcame 
 Johnson's well-founded and vehement dis- 
 like. The good nature of his countenance, 
 and its vivacity and cleverness, made its 
 physical ugliness be overlooked ; and pro- 
 bably his cast of the eye, which was a squint 
 of the first water, seemed only a peculiarity 
 which gave effect to the sallies of his wit. 
 
 Hogarth's portrait of him he treated with 
 characteristic good humour, and allowed it " to 
 be an excellent compound caricature, or a ca- 
 ricature of what Nature had already carica- 
 tured. I know but one short apology, said he, 
 to be made for this gentleman, or, to speak 
 more properly, for the person of Mr. Wilkes ; 
 it is, that he did not make himself ; and that 
 he never was solicitous about the case (as 
 Shakespeare calls it) only so far as to keep 
 it clean and in health. I never heard that 
 he ever hung over the glassy stream, like 
 another Narcissus, admiring the image in it ; 
 nor that he ever stole an amorous look at 
 his counterfeit in a side mirror. His form, 
 such as it is, ought to give him no pain, 
 while it is capable of giving so much plea- 
 sure to others. I believe he finds himself 
 tolerably happy in the clay cottage to which 
 he is tenant for life, because he has learned 
 to keep it in pretty good order. While the 
 share of health and animal spirits which 
 heaven has given out should hold out, I 
 can scarcely imagine he will be one moment 
 
 peevish about the outside of so precarious, 
 so temporary a habitation ; or will ever be 
 brought to our Ingenium Galbce male hati- 
 tat : Monsieur, est mal loge." This was 
 part of a note for his intended edition of 
 Churchill. 
 
 Squinting, according to a French writer, 
 is not unpleasing, when it is not in excess. 
 He is probably right in this observation. 
 A slight obliquity of vision sometimes gives 
 an archness of expression, and always adds 
 to the countenance a peculiarity, which, when 
 the countenance has once become agreeable 
 to the beholder, renders it more so. But 
 when the eye-balls recede from each other 
 to the outer verge of their orbits, or ap- 
 proach so closely that nothing but the in- 
 tervention of the nose seems to prevent their 
 meeting, a sense of distortion is produced, 
 and consequently of pain. II y a des gens, 
 says Vigneul Marville, qui ne sauroient 
 regarder des louches sans en sentir quelque 
 douleur aux yeux. Je suis des ceux-la. This 
 is because the deformity is catching, which 
 it is well known to be in children ; the 
 tendency to imitation is easily excited in a 
 highly sensitive frame as in them ; and 
 the pain felt in the eyes gives warning that 
 this action, which is safe only while it is un- 
 conscious and unobserved, is in danger of 
 being deranged. 
 
 A cast of the eye d la Montmorency was 
 much admired at the Court of Louis XIII., 
 where the representative of that illustrious 
 family had rendered it fashionable by his 
 example. Descartes is said to have liked all 
 persons who squinted for his nurse's sake, 
 and the anecdote tells equally in favour of 
 her and of him. 
 
 St. Evremond says in writing the Eulogy 
 of Turenne, Je ne rnamuserai point d de- 
 peindre tous les traits de son visage. Les 
 caracteres des Grands Hommes nont rien de 
 commun avec les portraits des belles fcmmes. 
 Mais je puis dire en gros qtiil avoit quelque 
 chose d'auguste et d'agreable ; quelque chose 
 en sa physionomie qui faisoit concevoir je ne 
 sat quoi de grand en son ame, et en son esprit. 
 On pouvoit juger a le voir, que par un 
 dupos&iom particulierc la Nature T avoit pre-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 473 
 
 pare afaire tout ce qu'il a fait. If Turenne 
 had not been an ill-looking man, the skilful 
 eulogist would not thus have excused him- 
 self from giving any description of his 
 countenance ; a countenance from which 
 indeed, if portraits belie it not, it, might be 
 inferred that nature had prepared him to 
 change his party during the civil wars, as 
 lightly as he would have changed his seat at 
 a card- table, to renounce the Protestant 
 faith, and to ravage the Palatinate. Ne 
 souvenez-vous pas de la physionomie funeste 
 dp ce grand homme, says Bussy Rabutin 
 to Madame de Sevigne. An Italian bravo 
 said, che non teneva specchio in camera, perche 
 quando si crucciava diveniva tanto terribile 
 neir aspetto, che veggendosi haria fatto troppo 
 gran paura a se stesso* 
 
 Queen Elizabeth could not endure the 
 sight of deformity ; when she went into 
 public her guards, it is said, removed all 
 misshapen and hideous persons out of her 
 way. 
 
 Extreme ugliness has once proved as ad- 
 vantageous to its possessor as extreme 
 beauty, if there be truth in those Triads 
 wherein the Three Men are recorded who 
 escaped from the battle of Camlan. They 
 were Morvran ab Teged, in consequence of 
 being so ugly, that every body thinking him 
 to be a Demon out of Hell fled from him ; 
 Sandde Bryd-Angel, or Angel-aspect, in 
 consequence of being so fine of form, so 
 beautiful and fair, that no one raised a hand 
 against him for he was thought to be an 
 Angel from Heaven : and Glewlwyd Ga- 
 vaelvawr, or Great-grasp, (King Arthur's 
 porter,) from his size and strength, so that 
 none stood in his way, and every body ran 
 before him ; excepting these three, none es- 
 caped from Camlan, that fatal field where 
 King Arthur fell with all his chivalry. 
 
 That painter of great but insane genius, 
 William Blake, of whom Allan Cunningham 
 has written so interesting a memoir, took 
 this Triad for the subject of a picture, which 
 he called the Ancient Britons. It was one 
 of his worst pictures, which is saying 
 
 much ; and he has illustrated it with one of 
 the most curious commentaries, in his very 
 curious and very rare descriptive Catalogue 
 of his own Pictures. 
 
 It begins with a translation from the 
 Welsh, supplied to him, no doubt, by that 
 good simple-hearted, Welsh-headed man, 
 William Owen, whose memory is the great 
 store-house of all Cymric tradition and lore 
 of every kind. 
 
 " In the last battle of King Arthur only 
 Three Britons escaped ; these were the 
 Strongest Man, the Beautifullest Man, and 
 the Ugliest Man. These Three marched 
 through the field unsubdued as Gods ; and 
 the Sun of Britain set, but shall arise again 
 with tenfold splendour, when Arthur shall 
 awake from sleep, and resume his dominion 
 over earth and ocean. 
 
 " The three general classes of men," says 
 the painter, " who are represented by the 
 most Beautiful, the most Strong, and the 
 most Ugly, could not be represented by any 
 historical facts but those of our own coun- 
 trymen, the Ancient Britons, without violat- 
 ing costumes. The Britons (say historians) 
 were naked civilised men, learned, studious, 
 abstruse in thought and contemplation ; 
 naked, simple, plain in their acts and man- 
 ners ; wiser than after ages. They were 
 overwhelmed by brutal arms, all but a 
 small remnant. Strength, Beauty, and 
 Ugliness escaped the wreck, and remain for 
 ever unsubdued, age after age. 
 
 " The British Antiquities are now in the 
 Artist's hands ; all his visionary contempla- 
 tions relating to his own country and its 
 ancient glory, when it was, as it again shall 
 be, the source of learning and inspiration. 
 He has in his hands poems of the highest 
 antiquity. Adam was a Druid, and Noah. 
 Also Abraham was called to succeed the 
 Druidical age, which began to turn allegoric 
 and mental signification into corporeal 
 command ; whereby human sacrifice would 
 have depopulated the earth. All these things 
 are written in Eden. The artist is an in- 
 habitant of that happy country ; and if 
 everything goes on as it has begun, the 
 work of vegetation and generation may
 
 474 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 expect to be opened again to Heaven, 
 through Eden, as it was in the beginning. 
 
 " The Strong Man represents the human 
 sublime. The Beautiful Man represents the 
 human pathetic, which was in the ban of 
 Eden divided into male and female. The 
 Ugly Man represents the human reason. 
 They were originally one man, who was 
 fourfold : he was self- divided and his real 
 humanity drawn on the stems of generation : 
 and the form of the fourth was like the Son 
 of God. How he became divided is a sub- 
 ject of great sublimity and pathos. The 
 Artist has written it under inspiration, and 
 will, if God please, publish it. It is volu- 
 minous, and contains the ancient history of 
 Britain, and the world of Satan and of 
 Adam. 
 
 " In the mean time he has painted this 
 picture, which supposes that in the reign of 
 that British Prince, who lived in the fifth 
 century, there were remains of those naked 
 heroes in the Welsh mountains. They are 
 now. Gray saw them in the person of his 
 Bard on Snowdon ; there they dwell in 
 naked simplicity ; happy is he who can see 
 and converse with them, above the shadows 
 of generation and death. In this picture, 
 believing with Milton the ancient British 
 history, Mr. Blake has done as all the an- 
 cients did, and as all the moderns who are 
 worthy of fame, given the historical fact in 
 its poetical vigour ; so as it always happens; 
 and not in that dull way that some his- 
 torians pretend, who being weakly organised 
 themselves, cannot see either miracle or 
 prodigy. All is to them a dull round of 
 probabilities and possibilities ; but the his- 
 tory of all times and places is nothing else 
 but improbabilities and impossibilities, 
 what we should say was impossible, if we 
 did not see it always before our eyes. 
 
 " The antiquities of every nation under 
 Heaven are no less sacred than those of the 
 Jews ; they are the same thing, as Jacob 
 Bryant and all antiquaries have proved. 
 How other antiquities came to be neglected 
 and disbelieved, while those of the Jews are 
 collected and arranged, is an enquiry worthy 
 of both the Antiquarian and the Divine- 
 
 All had originally one language, and one 
 religion. This was the religion of Jesus, the 
 everlasting Gospel. Antiquity preached the 
 Gospel of Jesus. The reasoning historian, 
 turner and twister of courses and con- 
 sequences, such as Hume, Gibbon, and 
 Voltaire, cannot, with all their artifice, turn 
 or twist one fact, or disarrange self-evident 
 action and reality. Reasons and opinions 
 concerning acts are not history. Acts them- 
 selves alone are history, and they are neither 
 the exclusive property of Hume, Gibbon, 
 and Voltaire, Echard, Rapin, Plutarch, nor 
 Herodotus. Tell me the acts, O historian, 
 and leave me to reason upon them as I 
 please; away with your reasoning and your 
 rubbish. All that is not action is not worth 
 reading. Tell me the What ; I do not want 
 you to tell me the Why, and the How ; I can 
 find that out myself, as well as you can, and 
 I will not be fooled by you into opinions, 
 that you please to impose, to disbelieve what 
 you think improbable, or impossible. His 
 opinion, who does not see spiritual agency, 
 is not worth any man's reading ; he who 
 rejects a fact because it is improbable, must 
 reject all History, and retain doubts only. 
 
 " It has been said to the Artist, take the 
 Apollo for the model of your beautiful man, 
 and the Hercules for your strong man, and 
 the Dancing Fawn for your ugly man. Now 
 he conies to his trial. He knows that what 
 he does is not inferior to the grandest an- 
 tiques. Superior they cannot be, for human 
 power cannot go beyond either what lie 
 does, or what they have done. It is the gift 
 of God; it is inspiration and vision. He had 
 resolved to emulate those precious remains 
 of antiquity. He has done so, and the 
 result you behold. His ideas of strength 
 and beauty have not been greatly different. 
 Poetry as it exists now on earth in the 
 various remains of ancient authors, Music 
 as it exists in old tunes or melodies, Painting 
 and Sculpture as it exists in the remains of 
 antiquity and in the works of more modern 
 genius, is Inspiration, and cannot be sur- 
 passed ; it is perfect and eternal : Milton, 
 Shakspeare, Michael Angelo, Rafael, the 
 finest specimens of ancient Sculpture and
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 475 
 
 Painting, and Architecture, Gothic, Grecian, 
 Hindoo, and Egyptian are the extent of the 
 human mind. The human mind cannot go 
 beyond the gift of God, the Holy Ghost. 
 To suppose that Art can go beyond the 
 finest specimens of Art that are now in the 
 world, is not knowing what Art is ; it is 
 being blind to the gifts of the Spirit. 
 
 " It will be necessary for the Painter to 
 say something concerning his ideas of Beauty, 
 Strength, and Ugliness. 
 
 "The beauty that is annexed and ap- 
 pended to folly, is a lamentable accident and 
 error of the mortal and perishing life ; it does 
 but seldom happen ; but with this unnatural 
 mixture the sublime Artist can have no thing 
 to do ; it is fit for the burlesque. The 
 beauty proper for sublime Art, is linea- 
 ments, or forms and features that are capable 
 of being the receptacle of intellect ; accord- 
 ingly the Painter has given in his beautiful 
 man, his own idea of intellectual Beauty. 
 The face and limbs (?) that deviates or alters 
 least, from infancy to old age, is the face 
 and limbs (?) of greatest Beauty and Per- 
 fection. 
 
 " The Ugly likewise, when accompanied 
 and annexed to imbecillity and disease, is a 
 subject for burlesque and not for historical 
 grandeur ; the artist has imagined the Ugly 
 man ; one approaching to the beast in fea- 
 tures and form, his forehead small, without 
 frontals ; his nose high on the ridge, and 
 narrow ; his chest and the stamina of his 
 make, comparatively little, and his joints and 
 his extremities large ; his eyes with scarce 
 any whites, narrow and cunning, and every- 
 thing tending toward what is truly ugly ; 
 the incapability of intellect. 
 
 " The Artist has considered his strong 
 man as a receptacle of Wisdom, a sublime 
 energizer; his features and limbs do not 
 spindle out into length, without strength, 
 nor are they too large and unwieldy for his 
 brain and bosom. Strength consists in ac- 
 cumulation of power to the principal seat, 
 and from thence a regular gradation and 
 subordination ; strength in compactness, not 
 extent nor bulk. 
 
 " The strong man acts from conscious su- 
 
 periority, and marches on in fearless de- 
 pendence on the divine decrees, raging with 
 the inspirations of a prophetic mind. The 
 Beautiful man acts from duty, and anxious 
 solicitude for the fates of those for whom he 
 combats. The Ugly man acts from love of 
 carnage, and delight in the savage barbari- 
 ties of war, rushing with sportive precipita- 
 tion into the very teeth of the affrighted 
 enemy. 
 
 " The Roman Soldiers rolled together in 
 a heap before them : ' like the rolling thing 
 before the whirlwind : ' each shew a differ- 
 ent character, and a different expression of 
 fear, or revenge, or envy, or blank horror, 
 or amazement, or devout wonder and un- 
 resisting awe. 
 
 " The dead and the dying, Britons naked, 
 mingled with armed Romans, strew the field 
 beneath. Amongst these, the last of the 
 Bards who were capable of attending warlike 
 deeds, is seen falling, outstretched among 
 the dead and the dying ; singing to his harp 
 in the pains of death. 
 
 " Distant among the mountains are Druid 
 Temples, similar to Stone Henge. The sun 
 sets behind the mountains, bloody with the 
 day of battle. 
 
 " The flush of health in flesh, exposed to 
 the open air, nourished by the spirits of 
 forests and floods, in that ancient happy 
 period, which history has recorded, cannot 
 be like the sickly daubs of Titian or Rubens. 
 Where will the copier of nature, as it now 
 is, find a civilized man, who has been accus- 
 tomed to go naked ? Imagination only can 
 furnish us with colouring appropriate, such 
 as is found in the frescoes of Rafael and 
 Michael Angelo : the disposition of forms 
 always directs colouring in works of true art. 
 As to a modern man, stripped from his load 
 of clothing, he is like a dead corpse. Hence 
 Rubens, Titian, Correggio, and all of that 
 class, are like leather and chalk ; their men 
 are like leather, and their women like chalk, 
 for the disposition of their forms will not 
 admit of grand colouring ; in Mr. B.'s Britons, 
 the blood is seen to circulate in their limbs ; 
 he defies competition in colouring." 
 
 My regard for thee, dear Reader, would
 
 476 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 not permit me to leave untranscribed this 
 very curious and original piece of composi- 
 tion. Probably thou hast never seen, and 
 art never likely to see either the " Descrip- 
 tive Catalogue " or the " Poetical Sketches" 
 of this insane and erratic genius, I will 
 therefore end the chapter with the Mad 
 Song from the latter, premising only 
 Dificultosa provincia es la que emprendo, y a 
 muchos parecerd escusada ; mas para la ente- 
 reza desta historia, ha parecido no omitir 
 aquetta parte* 
 
 The wild winds weep, 
 
 And the night is a-cold ; 
 Come hither, Sleep, 
 
 And my griefs unfold : 
 But lo ! the morning peeps 
 
 Over the eastern steep ; 
 And the rustling birds of dawn 
 
 The earth do scorn. 
 
 Lo 1 to the vault 
 
 Of paved heaven, 
 With sorrow fraught 
 
 My notes are driven : 
 They strike the ear of night, 
 
 Make weep the eyes of day ; 
 They make mad the roaring winds, 
 
 And with tempests play. 
 
 Like a fiend in a cloud 
 
 With howling woe, 
 After night I do croud 
 
 And with night will go ; 
 I turn my back to the east, 
 
 From whence comforts have increas'd ; 
 For light doth seize my brain 
 
 With frantic pain. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXXII. 
 
 AN IMPROVEMENT IN THE FORM OF THE 
 HUMAN LEG SUGGESTED BY A PHYSICIAN. 
 THE DOCTOR'S CURE OF A BROKEN SHIN 
 AND INVENTION OF A SHIN-SHIELD. 
 
 Resfisci est, tibicunque nalat. Whatsoever swims upon 
 any water, belongs to this exchequer. 
 
 JEREMY TAYLOH. Preface lo the Duct. Dub. 
 
 SOME Dr. Moreton is said to have advanced 
 this extraordinary opinion in a treatise upon 
 the beauty of the human structure, that had 
 the calf of the leg been providentially set 
 
 LUIS MtlNOZ, VlDA DEL P. L. DE GRANADA. 
 
 before, instead of being preposterously placed 
 behind, it would have been evidently better, 
 for as much as the shin-bone could not then 
 have been so easily broken. 
 
 I have no better authority for this than a 
 magazine extract. But there have been men 
 of science silly enough to entertain opinions 
 quite as absurd, and presumptuous enough 
 to think themselves wiser than their Maker. 
 
 Supposing the said Dr. Moreton has not 
 been unfairly dealt with in this statement, it 
 would have been a most appropriate reward 
 for his sagacity, if some one of the thousand 
 and one wonder-working Saints of the Pope's 
 Calendar had reversed his own calves for 
 him, placed them in front, conformably to 
 his own notion of the fitness of things, and 
 then left him to regulate their motions as 
 well as he could. The Gastrocnemius and 
 the Solaeus would have found themselves in 
 a new and curious relation to the Rectus 
 femoris and the two Vasti, and the anato- 
 mical reformer would have learned feelingly 
 to understand the term of antagonising 
 muscles in a manner peculiar to himself. 
 
 The use to which this notable philosopher 
 would have made the calf of the leg serve, 
 reminds me of a circumstance that occurred 
 in our friend's practice. An old man hard 
 upon threescore and ten broke his shin one 
 day by stumbling over a chair ; and although 
 a hale person who seemed likely to attain a 
 great age by virtue of a vigorous constitu- 
 tion, which had never been impaired through 
 ill habits or excesses of any kind, the hurt 
 that had been thought little of at first became 
 so serious in its consequences, that a morti- 
 fication was feared. Daniel Dove was not 
 one of those practitioners who would let a 
 patient die under their superintendence 
 secundum artem, rather than incur the risque 
 of being censured for trying in desperate 
 cases any method not in the regular course 
 of practice : and recollecting what he had 
 heard when a boy, that a man whose leg 
 and life were in danger from just such an 
 accident had been saved by applying yeast 
 to the wound, he tried the application. The 
 dangerous symptoms were presently re- 
 moved by it ; a kindly process was induced,
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 477 
 
 the wound healed, and the man became whole 
 again. 
 
 Dove was then a young man ; and so 
 many years have elapsed since old Joseph 
 Todhunter was gathered to his fathers, that 
 it would now require an antiquarian's 
 patience to make out the letters of his name 
 upon his mouldering headstone. All re- 
 membrance of him (except among his de- 
 scendants, if any there now be) will doubtless 
 have passed away, unless he should be recol- 
 lected in Doncaster by the means which Dr. 
 Dove devised for securing him against an- 
 other such accident. 
 
 The Doctor knew that the same remedy 
 was not to be relied on a second time, when 
 there would be less ability left in the system 
 to second its effect. He knew that in old 
 age the tendency of Nature is to dissolution, 
 and that accidents which are trifling in 
 youth, or middle age, become fatal at a time 
 when Death is ready to enter at any breach, 
 and Life to steal out through the first flaw 
 in its poor crazy tenement. So, having 
 warned Todhunter of this, and told him that 
 he was likely to enjoy many years of life, if 
 he kept a whole skin on his shins, he per- 
 suaded him to wear spatterdashes, quilted 
 in front and protected there with whalebone, 
 charging him to look upon them as the most 
 necessary part of his clothing, and to let 
 them be the last things which he doffed at 
 night, and the first which he donned in the 
 morning. 
 
 The old man followed this advice ; lived 
 to the great age of eighty-five, enjoyed his 
 faculties to the last ; and then died so easily, 
 that it might truly be said he fell asleep. 
 
 My friend loved to talk of this case ; for 
 Joseph Todhunter had borne so excellent a 
 character through life, and was so cheerful 
 and so happy, as well as so venerable an old 
 man, that it was a satisfaction for the Doctor 
 to think he had been the means of prolong- 
 ing his days. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXXIII. 
 
 VIEWS OF OLD AGE. MONTAIGNE, DANIEL 
 COKNEILLE, LANGUET, PASQUIER, DR. JOHN- 
 SON, LORD CHESTEBFIELD, ST. EVEEMOND. 
 
 What is age 
 
 But the holy place of life, the chapel of ease 
 For all men's wearied miseries ? 
 
 MASSINGBR. 
 
 MONTAIGNE takes an uncomfortable view of 
 old age. II me semble, he says, quen la 
 vieillesse, nos antes sont subjectes a des mala- 
 dies et imperfections plus importunes qu'en la 
 jeunesse. Je le disois estantjeune, lors on me 
 donnoit de man menton par le nez ; je le dis 
 encore a cette keure, que man poil gris me 
 donne le credit. Nous appellons sagesse la 
 dijficulte de nos humeurs, le desgoustdes choses 
 presentes : mais a la verite, nous ne quittons 
 pas tant les vices, comme nous les changeons ; 
 et, a man opinion, en pis. Outre une sotte et 
 caduque Jierte, un babil ennuyeux, ces hu- 
 menres espineuses et inassociables, et la super- 
 stition, et un soin ridicule des richesses, lors 
 que T usage en est perdu, jy trouve plus denvie, 
 ^injustice, et de malignite. Elle nous attache 
 plus de rides en T esprit qtiau visage : et ne 
 se void point dames ou fort rares, qiii en 
 vieillissant ne sentent Faigre, et le moisi. 
 
 Take this extract, my worthy friends who 
 are not skilled in French, or know no more 
 of it than a Governess may have taught 
 you, in the English of John Florio, Reader 
 of the Italian tongue unto the Sovereign 
 Majesty of Anna, Queen of England, Scot- 
 land, &c., and one of the gentlemen of her 
 Royal privy chamber ; the same Florio whom 
 some commentators, upon very insufficient 
 grounds, have supposed to have been de- 
 signed by Shakespeare in the Holofernes of 
 Love's Labour's Lost. 
 
 " Methinks our souls in age are subject 
 unto more importunate diseases and im- 
 perfections than they are in youth. I said 
 so being young, when my beardless chin was 
 upbraided me, and I say it again, now that 
 my gray beard gives me authority. We 
 entitle wisdom, the frowardness of our hu- 
 mours, and the distaste of present things ;
 
 478 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 but in truth we abandon not vices so much 
 as we change them ; and in mine opinion 
 for the worse. Besides a silly and ruinous 
 pride, cumbersome tattle, wayward and un- 
 sociable humours, superstition, and a ridi- 
 culous carking for wealth, when the use of 
 it is well nigh lost. I find the more envy, 
 injustice, and malignity in it. It sets more 
 wrinkles in our minds than in our foreheads ; 
 nor are there any spirits, or very rare ones, 
 which in growing old taste not sourly and 
 mustily." 
 
 In the same spirit, recollecting perhaps 
 this very passage of the delightful old Gas- 
 con, one of our own poets says, 
 
 Old age doth give by too long space, 
 Our souls as many wrinkles as our face ; 
 
 and the same thing, no doubt in imitation of 
 Montaigne, has been said by Corneille in a 
 poem of thanks addressed to Louis XIV., 
 when that King had ordered some of his 
 plays to be represented during the winter 
 of 1685, though he had ceased to be a popu- 
 lar writer, 
 
 Je vieillis, ou du mains, ils te le persuadent ; 
 Pour bien ecrire encorfai trap long terns ecrit, 
 Et let rides du front passent jusqu' & I'esprit. 
 
 The opinion proceeded not in the poet 
 Daniel from perverted philosophy, or sour- 
 ness of natural disposition, for all his affec- 
 tions were kindly, and he was a tender- 
 hearted, wise, good man. But he wrote this 
 in the evening of his days, when he had 
 
 out lived the date 
 Of former grace, acceptance and delight ; 
 
 when, 
 
 those bright stars from whence 
 He had his light, were set for evermore ; 
 
 and when he complained that years had 
 done to him 
 
 this wrong, 
 To make him write too much, and live too long ; 
 
 so that this comfortless opinion may be 
 ascribed in him rather to a dejected state 
 of mind, than to a clear untroubled judg- 
 ment. But Hubert Languet must have 
 written more from observation and reflec- 
 tion than from feeling, when he said, in one 
 of his letters to Sir Philip Sidney, "you 
 are mistaken if you believe that, men are 
 
 made better by age ; for it is very rarely 
 so. They become indeed more cautious, 
 and learn to conceal their faults and their 
 evil inclinations ; so that if you have known 
 any old man in whom you think some pro- 
 bity were still remaining, be assured that 
 he must have been excellently virtuous in 
 his youth." Erras si credis homines fieri 
 estate meliores ; id nam est rarissimum. Fi~ 
 unt quidem cautiores, et vitia animi, ac pravos 
 suos affectus occultare discunt : quod si quern 
 senem novisti in quo aliquid probitatis supe- 
 resse judices, crede eum in adolescentia fuisse 
 optimum. 
 
 Languet spoke of its effects upon others. 
 Old Estienne Pasquier, in that uncomfort- 
 able portion of his Jeux Poetiques which 
 he entitles Vieillesse Rechignee, writes as a 
 self-observer, and his picture is not more 
 favourable. 
 
 Je ne nourry dans mot/ qu'une humeur noire. 
 Chagrin, fascheux, melancholic, hagard, 
 Grongneux, despit, presomptueux , langard, 
 Jefay Vamour au bon vin et an boire. 
 
 But the bottle seems not to have put him 
 in good humour either with others or himself. 
 
 Toute la monde me put ; je vy de telle sort, 
 Queje nefay meshuy que lousser et cracker, 
 Que defascher autruy, et d'autruy mefascher ; 
 
 Je ne supportc nul, et nul ne me supporte. 
 
 Un mal de corps je sens, un mat d' esprit je porte y 
 Foible de corps je veux, mat's je ne puis marcher ; 
 Foible d'espritje n'oze d man argent toucher, 
 
 Voila les beaux effects que la vieiUesse apporte t 
 combien est heureux celuy qui, de ses ans 
 Jeune, ne passe point lafleur de son printans, 
 
 Ou celuy qui venu s'en relourne aussi vite! 
 Non : je m'abuze ; ainyois ces maux ce sont appas 
 Qui meferont unjour trouver doux man trespat, 
 
 Quand il plaira a Dieu que ce monde je quitte. 
 
 The miserable life I lead is such, 
 
 That now the world loathes me and I loathe it ; 
 
 What do I do all day but cough and spit, 
 Annoying others, and annoyed as much ! 
 My limbs no longer serve me, and the wealth 
 
 Which I have heap'd, I want the will to spend. 
 So mind and body both are out of health, 
 
 Behold the blessings that on age attend ! 
 Happy whose fate is not to overlive 
 The joys which youth, and only youth can give, 
 
 But in his prime is taken, happy he ! 
 Alas, that thought is of an erring heart, 
 These evils make me willing to depart 
 
 When it shall please the Lord to summon me. 
 
 The Rustic, in Hammerlein's curious dia- 
 logues de Habilitate et Rusticitate, describes 
 his old age in colours as dark as Pasquier's : 
 plenus dierum, he says, ymmo senex valde, id
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 479 
 
 est, octogcnarius, et senio confractus, et heri 
 et nudiustercius, ymmo plerisque revolutionism 
 annorum temporibus, corporis statera recur- 
 vatus, singidto, tussito, sterto, ossito, sternuto, 
 balbutio, catharizo, mussico, paraleso, garga- 
 riso, cretico, tremo, sudo, titiUo, digitis scepe 
 geliso, et insuper (quod deterius esf) cor meum 
 affligitur, et caput excutitur, languet spiritus, 
 fetet anhelitus, caligaiit oculi et facillant* ar- 
 ticidi, nares coitfluunt, crines deftuunt, tremunt 
 tactus et deperit actus, dentes putrescunt et 
 aures surdescunt; defacili ad iram provocor, 
 difficili revocor, cito credo, tarde discedo. 
 
 The effects of age are described in lan- 
 guage not less characteristic by the Conte 
 Baldessar Castiglione in his Cortegiano. He 
 is explaining wherefore the old man is always 
 laudator temporis acti ; and thus he ac- 
 counts for the universal propensity; Gli 
 anni fnggendo se ne portan seco molte com- 
 moditd, e tra T altre levano dal sangue gran 
 parte de gli spiriti vitali ; onde la complession 
 si muta, e divengon dcMli gli organi, per i 
 quali V anima opera le sue virtu. Perb de i 
 cori nostri in quel tempo, come olio autunno le 
 fogli de gli arbori, caggiono i soavi fiori di 
 contento ; e nel loco de i sereni et chiari pen- 
 sieri, entra la nubilosa e turbida tristitia di 
 mille calamitd compagnata, di modo che non 
 solamente il corpo, ma T animo anchora e in- 
 fermo ; ne de i passati piaceri reserva altro 
 che una tcnace memoria, e la imagine di quel 
 caro tempo della tenera eta, nella quale quando 
 ci troviamo, ci pare che scmpre il cielo, e la 
 terra, e ogni cosa faccia fcsta, e rida imtorno 
 a gh occhi nostri e nel pensiero, come in un 
 delitioso et vago giardino, Jiorisca la dolce 
 primavera d 1 allegrezza : onde forse saria 
 utile, qiuindo gia nella fredda stagione comin- 
 cia il sole della nostra vita, spogliandoci de 
 quei piaceri, andarsene verso F occaso, per- 
 dere insieme con essi anchor la lor memoria, 
 e trovar (come disse Temistocle) an' arte, che 
 a scordar insegnasse ; perche tanto sonofallaci 
 i sensi del corpo nostro, che spesfto ingannano 
 anchora il giudicio della mente. Perbparmi 
 che i vecchi siano alia condition di quelli, che 
 
 Faciliant is here evidently the same as vacillant. 
 For the real meaning of facillo the reader is referred to 
 Du Cange in v. or to Martinius' Lexicon. 
 
 partendosi dal porto, tengon gli occhi in ter- 
 ra, e par loro che la nave stia ferma, e la 
 rica si parta ; e pur e il contrario"; che il 
 porto, e medesimamente il tempo, e i piaceri 
 restano nel suo stato, e noi con la nave della 
 mortalitd fuggendo n' andiamo, F un dopo F 
 altro, per quel procelloso mare che ogni cosa 
 assorbe et devora ; ne mai piu pigliar terra 
 ci e concesso , anzi sempre da contrarii venti 
 combattuti, al fine in qualche scoglio la nave 
 rompemo. 
 
 Take this passage, gentle reader, as Master 
 Thomas Hoby has translated it to my hand. 
 
 "Years wearing away carry also with 
 them many commodities, and among others 
 take away from the blood a great part of the 
 lively spirits ; that altereth the complection, 
 and the instruments wax feeble whereby the 
 soul worketh his effects. Therefore the 
 sweet flowers of delight vade * away in that 
 season out of our hearts, as the leaves fall 
 from the trees after harvest ; and instead of 
 open and clear thoughts, there entereth 
 cloudy and troublous heaviness, accompanied 
 with a thousand heart griefs : so that not only 
 the blood, but the mind is also feeble, neither 
 of the former pleasures retaineth it any 
 thing else but a fast memory, and the print 
 of the beloved time of tender age, which 
 when we have upon us, the heaven, the earth 
 and each thing to our seeming rejoiceth 
 and laugheth always about our eyes, and in 
 thought (as in a savoury and pleasant gar- 
 den) flourisheth the sweet spring time of 
 mirth : So that, peradventure, it were not 
 unprofitable when now, in the cold season, 
 the sun of our life, taking away from us our 
 delights, beginneth to draw toward the West, 
 to lose therewithall the mindfulness of them, 
 and to find out as Themistocles saith, an art 
 
 t " Vade " is no doubt the true word here. The double 
 sense of it, that is, to fade, or to go away, may be 
 seen in Todd's Johnson and in Nares' Glossary. Neither 
 of them quote the following lines from the Earl of 
 Surrey's Poems. They occur in his Ecclesiastes. 
 
 We, that live on the earth, draw toward our decay. 
 
 Our children fill our place awhile, and then they vade 
 
 away. 
 And again, 
 
 New fancies daily spring, which vade, returning mo. 
 
 Jewel commonly writes " vade." See vol. i. pp. 141. 
 154. Ed. Jelf.
 
 480 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 to teach us to forget ; for the senses of our 
 body are so deceivable, that they beguile 
 many times also the judgement of the mind. 
 Therefore, methinks, old men be like unto 
 them that sailing in a vessel out of an haven, 
 behold the ground with their eyes, and the 
 vessel to their seeming standeth still, and 
 the shore goeth ; and yet is it clean con- 
 trary, for the haven, and likewise the time 
 and pleasures, continue still in their estate, 
 and we with the vessel of mortality flying 
 away, go one after another through the tem- 
 pestuous sea that swalloweth up and devour- 
 eth all things, neither is it granted us at any 
 time to come on shore again ; but, always 
 beaten with contrary winds, at the end we 
 break our vessel at some rock." 
 
 " Why Sir," said Dr. Johnson, " a man 
 grows better humoured as he grows older. 
 He improves by experience. When young 
 he thinks himself of great consequence, 
 and every thing of importance. As he ad- 
 vances in life, he learns to think himself 
 of no consequence, and little things of little 
 importance, and so he becomes more patient 
 and better pleased." This was the obser- 
 vation of a wise and good man, who felt 
 in himself, as he grew old, the effect of Chris- 
 tian principles upon a kind heart and a 
 vigorous understanding. One of a very dif- 
 ferent stamp came to the same conclusion 
 before him ; Crescit estate pidchritudo animo- 
 rum, says Antonio Perez, quantum miuuitur 
 eorundem corporum venustas. 
 
 One more of these dark pictures. " The 
 heart, " says Lord Chesterfield, " never grows 
 better by age ; I fear rather worse ; always 
 harder. A young liar will be an old one ; 
 and a young knave will only be a greater 
 knave as he grows older. But should a bad 
 young heart, accompanied with a good head, 
 (which by the way very seldom is the case) 
 really reform, in a more advanced age, from 
 a consciousness of its folly, as well as of its 
 guilt, such a conversion would only be 
 thought prudential and political, but never 
 sincere." 
 
 It is remarkable that Johnson, though, as 
 lias just been seen, he felt in himself and 
 saw in other good men, that the natural 
 
 effect of time was to sear away asperities of 
 character, 
 
 Till the smooth temper of their age should be 
 Like the high leaves upon the Holly Tree, 
 
 yet he expressed an opinion closely agreeing 
 with this of Lord Chesterfield. " A man," 
 he said, " commonly grew wicked as he grew 
 older, at least he but changed the vices of 
 youth, head-strong passion and wild teme- 
 rity, for treacherous caution and desire to 
 circumvent." These he can only have meant 
 of wicked men. But what follows seems to 
 imply a mournful conviction that the ten- 
 dency of society is to foster our evil propen- 
 sities, and counteract our better ones ; " I am 
 always," he said, " on the young people's side, 
 when there is a dispute between them and 
 the old ones ; for you have at least a charm 
 for virtue, till age has withered its very 
 root." Alas, this is true of the irreligious 
 and worldly minded, and it is generally true 
 because they composed the majority of our 
 corrupt contemporaries. 
 
 But Johnson knew that good men became 
 better as they grew older, because his philo- 
 sophy was that of the Gospel. Something 
 of a philosopher Lord Chesterfield was, and 
 had he lived in the days of Trajan or Ha- 
 drian, might have done honour to the school 
 of Epicurus. But if he had not in the pride 
 of his poor philosophy, shut both his under- 
 standing and his heart against the truths of 
 revealed religion, in how different a light 
 would the evening of his life have closed. 
 
 Une raison essentielle, says the Epicurean 
 Saint Evremond, qui nous oblige a nous re- 
 tirer quand nous sommes vieux, c'estqu'ilfaut 
 prevenir le ridicule ou Vage nous fait tomber 
 presque toujours. And in another place he 
 says, certes le plus honnete-homme dont per- 
 sonne n'a besoin, a de la peine a s'exempter 
 du ridicule en vieillissant. This was the 
 opinion of a courtier, a sensualist, and a 
 Frenchman. 
 
 I cannot more appositely conclude this 
 chapter than by a quotation ascribed, whether 
 truly or not, to St. Bernard. Maledictum 
 caput canum et cor vanum, caput tremulum et 
 cor emulum, canities in vcrtice et pcrnicies in 
 mente : fades rugosa et lingua nugosa^ cuti*
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 481 
 
 ticca et fides ficta ; visus caligans et caritas 
 claudicans : labium pendens et dens detrahens ; 
 virtus debilis et vita Jlebilis ; dies uberes et 
 fructus steriles, amid multi, et actus stulti. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXXIV. 
 
 FURTHER OBSERVATIONS CONCERNING OLD 
 AGE. BISHOP REYNOLDS. OPINION OF THE 
 DOCTOR CONCERNING BEASTS AND MEN. 
 M. DE CIJSTINE. THE WORLD IS TOO MUCH 
 WITH US. WORDSWORTH. SIR WALTER 
 RALEIGH. 
 
 In these reflections, which are of a serious, and some- 
 what of a melancholy cast, it is best to indulge ; because 
 it is always of use to be serious, and not unprofitable 
 sometimes to be melancholy. FREEMAN'S SERMONS. 
 
 " As usurers," says Bishop Reynolds, " be- 
 fore the whole debt is paid, do fetch away 
 some good parts of it for the loan, so before 
 the debt of death be paid by the whole body, 
 old age doth by little and little take away 
 sometimes one sense, sometimes another ; this 
 year one limb, the next another ; and causeth 
 a man as it were to die daily. No one can 
 dispel the clouds and sorrows of old age, but 
 Christ, who is the sun of righteousness and 
 the bright morning star." 
 
 Yet our Lord and Saviour hath not left 
 those who are in darkness and the shadow of 
 death, without the light of a heavenly hope 
 at their departure, if their ways have not 
 wilfully been evil, if they have done their 
 duty according to that law of nature which 
 is written in the heart of man. It is the 
 pride of presumptuous wisdom (itself the 
 worst of follies) that has robbed the natural 
 man of his consolation in old age, and of his 
 hope in death, and exacts the forfeit of that 
 hope from the infidel as the consequence 
 and punishment of his sin. Thus it was in 
 heathen times, as it now is in countries that 
 are called Christian. When Cicero speaks 
 of those things which depend upon opinion, 
 he says, hujusmodi sunt probabilia; impiis 
 apud infer os pcenas esse prcej tratas; eos, qui 
 philosophies dent operam, no* arbitrari Deos 
 esse. Hence it appears he regarded it as 
 equally probable that there was an account 
 
 to be rendered after death ; and that those 
 who professed philosophy would disbelieve 
 this as a vulgar delusion, live therefore 
 without religion, and die without hope, like 
 the beasts that perish ! 
 
 " If they perish," the Doctor used always 
 reverently to say when he talked upon this 
 subject. O Reader, it would have done 
 you good as it has done me, if you had heard 
 him speak upon it, in his own beautiful old 
 age! "If they perish," he would say. 
 " That the beasts die without hope we may 
 conclude ; death being to them like falling 
 asleep, an act of which the mind is not cogni- 
 sant ! But that they live without religion, 
 he would not say, that they might not 
 have some sense of it according to their 
 kind ; nor that all things animate, and seem- 
 ingly inanimate, did not actually praise the 
 Lord, as they are called upon to do by the 
 Psalmist, and in the Benedicite /" 
 
 It is a pious fancy of the good old lexi- 
 cographist Adam Littleton that our Lord 
 took up his first lodging in a stable amongst 
 the cattle, as if he had come to be the Saviour 
 of them as well as of men ; being, by one 
 perfect oblation of himself, to put an end to 
 all other sacrifices, as well as to take away 
 sins. This, he adds, the Psalmist fears not 
 to affirm, speaking of God's mercy. " Thou 
 savest," says he, " both man and beast." 
 
 The text may lead us further than Adam 
 Littleton's interpretation. 
 
 Qu'on ne me parle plus de NATURE 
 MORTE, says M. de Custine, in his youth and 
 enthusiasm, writing from Mont-Auvert ; on 
 sent id que la Divinite est partout, et que les 
 pierres sont penetrees comme nous-memes dune 
 puissance creatrice ! Quand on me dit que 
 les rochers sont insensibles, je crois entendre 
 un enfant soutenir que faiguille dune rnontre 
 ne marche pas, parce qrfil ne la voit pas se 
 mouvoir. 
 
 Do not, said our Philosopher, when he 
 threw out a thought like this, do not ask me 
 how this can be ! I guess at everything, 
 and can account for nothing. It is more 
 comprehensible to me that stocks and stones 
 should have a sense of devotion, than that 
 men should be without it. I could much
 
 482 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 more easily persuade myself that the birds 
 in the air and the beasts in the field have 
 souls to be saved, than I can believe that 
 very many of my fellow bipeds have any 
 more soul than, as some of our divines have 
 said, serves to keep their bodies from putre- 
 faction. " God forgive me, worm that I am ! 
 for the sinful thought of which I am too often 
 conscious, that of the greater part of the 
 human race, the souls are not worth saving ! " 
 I have not forgotten the look which ac- 
 companied these words, and the tone in 
 which he uttered them, dropping his voice 
 toward the close. 
 
 " We must of necessity," said he, " become 
 better or worse as we advance in years. 
 Unless we endeavour to spiritualise our- 
 selves, and supplicate in this endeavour for 
 that Grace which is never withheld when it 
 is sincerely and earnestly sought, age bodilises 
 us more and more, and the older we grow 
 the more we are embruted and debased : so 
 manifestly is the awful text verified which 
 warns us that 'unto every one which hath 
 shall be given, and from him that hath not, 
 even that he hath shall be taken away from 
 him.' In some the soul seems gradually to 
 be absorbed and extinguished in its crust of 
 clay ; in others as if it purified and sublimed 
 the vehicle to which it was united. Viget 
 animus, et gaudet non multum sibi esse cum 
 corpore ; magnam oneris partem sui posuit* 
 Nothing therefore is more beautiful than a 
 wise and religious old age ; nothing so pitiable 
 as the latter stages of mortal existence 
 when the World and the Flesh, and that 
 false philosophy which is of the Devil, have 
 secured the victory for the Grave ! " 
 
 " He that hath led a holy life," says one 
 of our old Bishops, " is like a man which 
 hath travelled over a beautiful valley, and 
 being on the top of a hill, turneth about 
 with delight, to take a view of it again." 
 The retrospect is delightful, and perhaps it 
 is even more grateful if his journey has been 
 by a rough and difficult way. But whatever 
 may have been his fortune on the road, the 
 Pilgrim who has reached the Delectable 
 
 Mountains looks back with thankfulness and 
 forward with delight. 
 
 And wherefore is it not always thus ? 
 Wherefore, but because, as AVordsworth has 
 said, 
 
 The World is too much with us, late and soon 
 Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers. 
 
 " Though our own eyes," says Sir Walt<-r 
 Raleigh, " do every where behold the sudden 
 and resistless assaults of Death, and Natme 
 assureth us by never failing experience, and 
 Reason by infallible demonstration, that our 
 times upon the earth have neither certainty 
 nor durability, that our bodies are but the 
 anvils of pain and diseases, and our minds 
 the hives of unnumbered cares, sorrows and 
 passions ; and that when we are most glori- 
 fied, we are but those painted posts against 
 which Envy and Fortune direct their darts ; 
 yet such is the true unhappiness of our con- 
 dition, and the dark ignorance which covereth 
 the eyes of our understanding, that we only 
 prize, pamper, and exalt this vassal and 
 slave of death, and forget altogether, or only 
 remember at our cast-away leisure, the im- 
 prisoned immortal Soul, which can neither 
 die with the reprobate, nor perish with the 
 mortal parts of virtuous men ; seeing God's 
 justice in the one, and his goodness in the 
 other, is exercised for evermore, as the ever- 
 living subjects of his reward and punish- 
 ment. But when is it that we examine this 
 great account ? Never, while we have one 
 vanity left us to spend ! We plead for titles 
 till our breath fail us ; dig for riches whilst 
 our strength enableth us ; exercise malice 
 while we can revenge ; and then when time 
 hath beaten from us both youth, pleasure 
 and health, and that Nature itself hateth the 
 house of Old Age, we remember with Job 
 that ' we must go the way from whence we 
 shall not return, and that our bed is made 
 ready for us in the dark.' And then I say, 
 looking over-late into the bottom of our 
 conscience, which Pleasure and Ambition 
 had locked up from us all our lives, we be- 
 hold therein the fearful images of our actions 
 past, and withal this terrible inscription that 
 ' God will bring every work into judgement 
 that man hath done under the Sun.'
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 433 
 
 " But what examples have ever moved 
 us ? what persuasions reformed us ? or what 
 threatenings made us afraid? We behold 
 other men's tragedies played before us ; we 
 hear what is promised and threatened ; but 
 the world's bright glory hath put out the 
 eyes of our minds ; and these betraying 
 lights, with which we only see, do neither 
 look up towards termless joys, nor down 
 towards endless sorrows, till we neither 
 know, nor can look for anything else at the 
 world's hands. But let us not flatter our 
 immortal Souls herein ! For to neglect God 
 all our lives, and know that we neglect Him; 
 to offend God voluntarily, and know that we 
 offend Him, casting our hopes on the peace 
 which we trust to make at parting, is no 
 other than a rebellious presumption, and 
 that which is the worst of all, even a con- 
 temptuous laughing to scorn and deriding 
 of God, his laws and precepts. Frustra 
 sperant qui sic de misericordid Dei sibi blan- 
 diuntur ; they hope in vain, saith Bernard, 
 which in this sort flatter themselves with 
 God's mercy." 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXXV. 
 
 EVOLVEMENTS. ANALOGIES. ANTICIPATIONS. 
 
 I have heard, how true 
 I know not, most physicians as they grow 
 Greater in skill, grow less in their religion ; 
 Attributing so much to natural causes, 
 That they have little faith in that they cannot 
 Deliver reason for : this Doctor steers 
 Another course. MASSINGER. 
 
 I FORGET what poet it is, who, speaking of 
 old age, says that 
 
 The Soul's dark mansion, battered and decayed, 
 Lets in new light through chinks that time has made ; 
 
 a strange conceit, imputing to the decay of 
 our nature that which results from its ma- 
 turation.* 
 
 As the ancients found in the butterfly a 
 
 * There is more true philosophy in what WVmUworth 
 says, 
 
 " The wiser mind 
 Mourns less for what age takes away. 
 Than what it leave* behind." 
 
 The Fountain. 
 
 beautiful emblem of the immortality of the 
 Soul, my true philosopher and friend looked, 
 in like manner, upon the chrysalis as a type 
 of old age. The gradual impairment of the 
 senses and of the bodily powers, and the 
 diminution of the whole frame as it shrinks 
 and contracts itself in age, afforded analogy 
 enough for a mind like his to work on, which 
 quickly apprehended remote similitudes 
 and delighted in remarking them. The 
 sense of flying in our sleep might probably, 
 he thought, be the anticipation or forefeeling 
 of an unevolved power, like an aurelia's 
 dream of butterfly motion. 
 
 The tadpole has no intermediate state of 
 torpor. This merriest of all creatures, if 
 mirth may be measured by motion, puts out 
 legs before it discards its tail and commences 
 frog. It was not in our outward frame that 
 the Doctor could discern any resemblance 
 to this process ; but he found it in that ex- 
 pansion of the intellectual faculties, those 
 aspirations of the spiritual part, wherein the 
 Soul seems to feel its wings and to imp 
 them for future flight. 
 
 One has always something for which to 
 look forward, some change for the better. 
 The boy in petticoats longs to be dressed in 
 the masculine gender. Little boys wish to 
 be big ones. In youth we are eager to 
 attain manhood, and in manhood matrimony 
 becomes the next natural step of our desires. 
 " Days then should speak, and multitude of 
 years should teach wisdom ; " and teach it 
 they will, if man will but learn ; for nature 
 brings the heart into a state for receiving it. 
 
 Jucundissima est (Etas devexa jam, non 
 tamen praceps ; et illam quoque in extrema 
 regvld stantem, judico habere xuas voluptatcs ; 
 out hoc ipsum succedit in locum voluptatum, 
 nullis egere. Quam dulce est cupiditates 
 fatigasse ac reliquisse /f This was not Dr. 
 Dove's philosophy : he thought the stage of 
 senescence a happy one, not because we out- 
 grow the desires and enjoyments of youth 
 and manhood, but because wiser desires, 
 more permanent enjoyments, and holier hopes 
 succeed to them, because time in its course 
 
 t SENECA.
 
 484 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 brings us nearer to eternity, and as earth 
 recedes Heaven opens upon our prospect. 
 
 " It is the will of God and nature," says 
 Franklin, " that these mortal bodies be laid 
 aside, when the soul is to enter into real life. 
 This is rather an embryo state, a preparation 
 for living. A man is not completely born 
 until he be dead. Why, then, should we 
 grieve that a new child is born among the 
 immortals, a new member added to their 
 happy society ? We are spirits. That 
 bodies should be lent us, while they can 
 afford ns pleasure, assist us in acquiring 
 knowledge, or in doing good to our fellow- 
 creatures, is a kind and benevolent act of 
 God. When they become unfit for these 
 purposes, and afford us pain instead of 
 pleasure, instead of an aid become an 
 encumbrance, and answer none of the in- 
 tentions for which they were given, it is 
 equally kind and benevolent, that a way is 
 provided by which we may get rid of them. 
 Death is that way." 
 
 " God," says Fuller, " sends his servants 
 to bed when they have done their work." 
 
 This is a subject upon which even Sir 
 Richard Blackmore could write with a poet's 
 feeling. 
 
 Thou dost, O Death, a peaceful harbour lie 
 Upon the margin of Eternity ; 
 Where the rough waves of Time's impetuous tide 
 Their motion lose, and quietly subside : 
 Weary, they roll their drousy heads asleep 
 At the dark entrance of Duration's deep. 
 Hither our vessels in their turn retreat ; 
 Here still they find a safe untroubled seat, 
 When worn with adverse passions, furious strife, 
 And the hard passage of tempestuous life. 
 
 Thou dost to man unfeigned compassion show, 
 
 Soothe all his grief, and solace all his woe. 
 
 Thy spiceries with noble drugs abound, 
 
 That every sickness cure and every wound. 
 
 That whic 1 ! anoints the corpse will only prove 
 
 The sovereign balm our anguish to remove. 
 
 The cooling draught administered by thee, 
 
 O Death ! from all our sufferings sets us free. 
 
 Impetuous life is by thy force subdued, 
 
 Life, the most lasting fever of the blood. 
 
 The weary in thy arms lie down to rest, 
 
 No more with breath's laborious task opprest. 
 
 Hear, how the men that long life-riilden lie, 
 
 In constant pain, for thy assistance cry, 
 
 Hear how they beg and pray for leave to die. 
 
 For vagabonds that o'er the country roam, 
 
 Forlorn, unpitied and without a home, 
 
 Thy friendly care provides a lodging-room. 
 
 The comfortless, the naked, and the poor, 
 
 Much pinch'd with cold, with grievous hunger more, 
 
 Thy subterranean hospitals receive, 
 Assuage their anguish and their wants relieve. 
 Cripples with aches and with age opprest, 
 Crawl on their crutches to the Grave for rest. 
 Exhausted travellers that have undergone 
 The scorching heats of life's intemperate zone, 
 Haste for refreshment to their beds beneath, 
 And stretch themselves in the cool shades of death. 
 Poor labourers who their daily task repeat, 
 Tired with their still returning toil and sweat, 
 Lie down at last ; and at the wish'd for close 
 Of life's long day, enjoy a sweet repose. 
 
 Thy realms, indulgent Death, have still possest 
 Profound tranquillity and unmolested rest. 
 No raging tempests, which the living dread, 
 Beat on the silent regions of the dead: 
 Proud Princes ne'er excite with war's alarms 
 Thy subterranean colonies to arms. 
 They undisturbed their peaceful mansions keep, 
 And earthquakes only rock them in their sleep. 
 
 Much has been omitted which may be 
 found in the original, and one couplet re- 
 moved from its place ; but the whole is 
 Blackmore's. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXXVI. 
 
 LEONE HEBREO'S DIALOGI DE AMOBE. THE 
 ELIXIR OF LIFE NO OBSTACLE TO DEATH. 
 PARACELSUS. VAN HELMONT AND JAN 
 MASS. DR. DOVE'S OPINION OF A BIO- 
 GRAPHER'S DUTIES. 
 
 There's a lean fellow beats all conquerors ! 
 
 OLD FORTUNATUS. 
 
 IN Leone Hebreo's Dialogi de Amore, one 
 of the interlocutors says, Vediamo che gli 
 huomini naturalmente desiano di mai non 
 morire ; laqual cosa e impossibile, manifesto, 
 e senza speranza. To which the other 
 replies, Coloro chel desiano, non credeno 
 interamente che sia impossibile, et hanno 
 inteso per le historic legali, che Enoc, et Elia, 
 et ancor Santo Giovanni Evangelista sono 
 immortali in corpo, et anima : se ben veggono 
 essere stato per miracolo : onde ciascuno pema 
 che a loro Dio potria fare simil miracolo. E 
 perb con questa possibilita si gionta qualche 
 remota speranza, laquale incita un lento de- 
 siderio, massimamente per essere la morte 
 horribile, e la corruttione propria odiosa a chi 
 si vuole, et il desiderio non e d" acquistare cosa 
 nuova, ma di nonperdere la vita, che si truova; 
 laquale havendosi di presente, e facil cosa 
 ingannarsi F huomo d desiare che non si
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 485 
 
 perda ; se ben naturalmente e impossibile , 
 chel desiderio di do e talmente lento, che pub 
 essere di cosa impossibile et imagindbile, 
 essendo di tanta importantia al desiderante 
 Et ancora ti dirb chel fondamento di questo 
 desidcrio non e vano in se, se bene e alquanto 
 ingannoso, perb chel desiderio deW huomo 
 d" essere immortale e veramente possibile , 
 perche C esentfa deW huomo, (come rettamente 
 Platon vuole,) non e altro che la sua anima 
 intellettiva, laquale per la virtu, sapientia, 
 cognitione, et amore divino si fa gloriosa et 
 immortale. 
 
 Paracelsus used to boast that he would 
 not die till he thought proper so to do ; thus 
 wishing it to be understood that he had 
 discovered the Elixir of life. He died sud- 
 denly, and at a time when he seemed to be 
 in full health ; and hence arose a report, 
 that he had made a compact with the Devil, 
 who enabled him to perform- all his cures, 
 but came for him as soon as the term of 
 their agreement was up. 
 
 Wherefore indeed should he have died by 
 any natural means who so well understood 
 the mysteries of life and of death ? What, 
 says he, is life ? Nihil mehercle vita est aliud, 
 nisi Mumia qucedam Balsamita conservans 
 mortale corpus d mortalibus vermibus, et 
 eschara cum impressa liquoris salium com- 
 mistura. What is Death ? Nihil certe aliud 
 quam Balsami dominium, Mumice interitus, 
 salium ultima materia. Do you understand 
 this, Reader? If you do, I do not. 
 
 But he is intelligible when he tells us 
 that Life may be likened to Fire, and that 
 all we want is to discover the fuel for keep- 
 ing it up, the true Lignum Vitae. " It is 
 not against nature," he contends, " that we 
 should live till the renovation of all things ; 
 it is only against our knowledge, and beyond 
 it. But there are medicaments for pro- 
 longing life ; and none but the foolish or the 
 ignorant would ask why then is it that 
 Princes and Kings who can afford to purchase 
 them, die nevertheless like other people." 
 " The reason," says the great Bombast 
 von Hohenheim, " is, that their physicians 
 know less about medicine than the very 
 boors, and moreover that Princes and Kings 
 
 lead dissolute lives." And if it be asked why 
 no one, except Hermes Trismegistus, has used 
 such medicaments; he replies that others 
 have used them, but have not let it be known. 
 Van Helmont was once of opinion that no 
 metallic preparation could contain in itself 
 the blessing of the Tree of Life, though that 
 the Philosopher's stone had been discovered 
 was a fact that consisted with his own sure 
 knowledge. This opinion, however, was in 
 part changed, in consequence of some ex- 
 periments made with an aurific powder, 
 given him by a stranger after a single 
 evening's acquaintance ; (vir peregrinus, 
 unius vesperi amicus :) these experiments 
 convinced him that the stone partook of 
 what he calls Zoophyte life, as distinguished 
 both from vegetative and sensitive. But 
 the true secret, he thought, must be derived 
 from the vegetable world, and he sought for 
 it in the Cedar, induced, as it seems, by the 
 frequent mention of that tree in the Old 
 Testament. He says much concerning the 
 cedar, among other things, that when all 
 other plants were destroyed by the Deluge, 
 and their kinds preserved only in their seed, 
 the Cedars of Lebanon remained uninjured 
 under the waters. However, when he comes 
 to the main point, he makes a full stop, 
 saying, Ccetera autem quce de Cedro sunt 
 mecum sepelientur : nam mundus non capax 
 est. It is not unlikely that if his mysticism 
 had been expressed in the language of in- 
 telligible speculation, it might have been 
 found to accord with some of Berkeley's 
 theories in the Siris. But for his reticence 
 upon this subject, as if the world were not 
 worthy of his discoveries, he ought to have 
 been deprived of his two remaining talents. 
 Five, he tells us, he had received for his 
 portion, but because instead of improving 
 them he had shown himself unworthy of so 
 large a trust, he by whom they were given 
 had taken from him three. Ago illi gratias, 
 quod cum contulisset in me quinque talenta, 
 fecissemque me indignum, et hactenus repudium 
 coram eofactus essem, placuit divince bonitati, 
 auferre d me tria, et relinquere adhuc, bina, ut 
 me sic ad meliorem frugem exspectaret. Ma- 
 luit, inquam, me depauperare et tolerare, ut
 
 486 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 non essem utilis plurimis, modb me salvaret ab 
 hujiis mundi pericvlis. Sit ipsi atema sancti- 
 ficatio. 
 
 He has, however, informed posterity of the 
 means by which he prolonged the life of a 
 man to extreme old age. This person, whose 
 name was Jan Mass, was in the service of 
 Martin Rythovius, the first Bishop of Ypres, 
 when that prelate, by desire of the illustrious 
 sufferers, assisted at the execution of Counts 
 Egmond and Horn. Mass was then in the 
 twenty-fifth year of his age. When he was 
 fifty-eight, being poor, and having a large 
 family of young children, he came to Van 
 Helmont, and entreated him to prolong his 
 life if he could, for the sake of these children, 
 who would be left destitute in case of his 
 death, and must have to beg their bread 
 from door to door. Van Helmont, then a 
 young man, was moved by such an applica- 
 tion, and considering what might be the 
 likeliest means of sustaining life in its decay, 
 he called to mind the fact that wine is pre- 
 served from corruption by the fumes of 
 burnt brimstone; it then occurred to him 
 that the acid liquor of sulphur, acidum 
 svlfuris stagma,) (it is better so to translate 
 his words than to call it the sulphuric acid,) 
 must of necessity contain the fumes and 
 odour of sulphur, being, according to his 
 chemistry, nothing but those fumes of 
 sulphur, combined with, or imbibed in, its 
 mercurial salt. The next step in his reason- 
 ing was to regard the blood as the wine of 
 life ; if this could be kept sound, though 
 longevity might not be the necessary con- 
 sequence, life would at least be preserved 
 from the many maladies which arose from 
 its corruption, and the sanity, and immunity 
 from such diseases, and from the sufferings 
 consequent thereon, must certainly tend to 
 its prolongation. He gave Mass therefore a 
 stone bottle of the distilled liquor of sulphur, 
 and taught him also how to prepare this oil 
 from burnt sulphur. And he ordered him 
 at every meal to take two drops of it in his 
 first draught of beer ; and not lightly to 
 exceed that; two drops, he thought, con- 
 tained enough of the fumes for a sufficient 
 dose. This was in the year 1600 ; and now, 
 
 says Helmont, in 1641, the old man still 
 walks about the streets of Brussels. And 
 what is still better, (quodque augustius est,) 
 in all these forty years, he has never been 
 confined by any illness, except that by a fall 
 upon the ice he once broke his leg near the 
 knee ; and he has constantly been free from 
 fever, remaining a slender and lean man, and 
 always poor. 
 
 Jan Mass had nearly reached his hundredth 
 year when this was written, and it is no 
 wonder that Van Helmont, who upon a 
 fantastic analogy had really prescribed an 
 efficient tonic, should have accounted, by the 
 virtue of his prescription, for the health and 
 vigour which a strong constitution had 
 retained to that extraordinary age. There 
 is no reason for doubting the truth of his 
 statement ; but if Van Helmont relied upon 
 his theory he must have made further ex- 
 periments ; it is probable therefore that he 
 either distrusted his own hypothesis, or 
 found, upon subsequent trials, that the 
 result disappointed him. 
 
 Van Helmont' s works were collected and 
 edited by his son Francis Mercurius, who 
 styles himself Philosophus per Unum in quo 
 Omnia Eremita peregrinans, and who de- 
 dicated the collection as a holocaust to the 
 ineffable Hebrew Name. The Vita Authoris 
 which he prefixed to it relates to his own 
 life, not to his father's, and little can be 
 learned from it, except that he is the more 
 mystical and least intelligible of the two. 
 The most curious circumstances concerning 
 the father are what he has himself com- 
 municated in the treatise entitled his Con- 
 fession, into which the writer of his life in 
 Aikin's Biography seems not to have looked, 
 nor indeed into any of his works, the articles 
 in that as in our other Biographies, being 
 generally compiled from compilations, so as 
 to present the most superficial information, 
 with the least possible trouble to the writer, 
 and the least possible profit to the reader, 
 skimming for him not the cream of know- 
 ledge but the scum. 
 
 Dr. Dove used to say that whoever wrote 
 the life of an author without carefully pe- 
 rusing bis works acted as iniquitously as a
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 487 
 
 Judge who should pronounce sentence in a 
 cause without hearing the evidence ; nay, he 
 maintained, the case was even worse, because 
 there was an even chance that the Judge 
 might deliver a right sentence ; but it was 
 impossible that a life so composed should be 
 otherwise than grievously imperfect, if not 
 grossly erroneous. For all the ordinary 
 business of the medical profession he thought 
 it sufficient that a practitioner should tho- 
 roughly understand the practice of his art, 
 and proceed empirically : God help the 
 patients, he would say, if it were not so ! and 
 indeed without God's help they would fare 
 badly at the best. But he was of opinion 
 that no one could take a lively and at the 
 same time a worthy interest in any art or 
 science without as it were identifying himself 
 with it, and seeking to make himself well 
 acquainted with its history : a Physician 
 therefore, according to his way of thinking, 
 ought to be as curious concerning the 
 writings of his more eminent predecessors, 
 and as well read in the most illustrious of 
 them, as a general in the wars of Hannibal, 
 Cuesar, the Black Prince, the Prince of 
 Parma, Gustavus Adolphus, and Marl- 
 borough. How carefully he had perused 
 Van Helmont was shown by the little land- 
 marks whereby, after an interval of alas 
 how many years, I have followed him 
 through the volume, hand passibus cequis. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXXVII. 
 
 VAN HELMONT'S WORKS, AND CERTAIN 
 SPECIALITIES IN HIS LIFE. 
 
 VoilH men conte Je ne sgay s'il esl vray ; mats, je 
 fay ainsi ouy conter Possible qua cela estfaux, possible 
 que nun. Jem' en rapports ce gui enest. line sera 
 pas damns qui le croira, on decroira. BRANTdME. 
 
 " THE works of Van Helmont," Dr. Aikin 
 savs, " are now only consulted as curiosities: 
 but with much error and jargon, they con- 
 tain many shrewd remarks, and curious spe- 
 culations." 
 
 How little would any reader suppose 
 from this account of them, or indeed from 
 
 anything which Dr. Aikin has said concern- 
 ing this once celebrated person, that Van 
 Helmont might as fitly be classed among 
 enthusiasts as among physicians, and with 
 philosophers as with either ; and that, like 
 most enthusiasts, it is sometimes not easy to 
 determine whether he was deceived himself, 
 or intended to deceive others. 
 
 He was born at Brussels in the year 1577, 
 and of noble family. In his Treatise entitled 
 Tumulus Pestis (to which strange title a 
 stranger* explanation is annexed) he gives 
 a sketch of his own history, saying, imite- 
 mini, si quid forte boni in ed occurrerit. He 
 was a devourer of books, and digested into 
 common places for his own use whatever he 
 thought most remarkable in them, so that 
 few exceeded him in diligence, but most, he 
 says, in judgment. At the age of seventeen 
 he was appointed by the Professors Thomas 
 Fyenus, Gerard de Velleers, and Stornius, to 
 read surgical lectures in the Medical College 
 at Louvain. Eheu, he exclaims, prcesumsi 
 docere, qua ipse nesciebam! and his pre- 
 sumption was increased because the Pro- 
 fessors of their own accord appointed him to 
 this Lectureship, attended to hear him, and 
 were the Censors of what he delivered. The 
 writers from whom he compiled his dis- 
 courses were Holerius, Tagaultius, Guido, 
 Vigo, ^gineta, and "the whole tribe of 
 Arabian authors." But then he began, and 
 in good time, to marvel at his own temerity 
 and inconsiderateness in thinking that by 
 mere reading he could be qualified to teach 
 what could be learned only by seeing, and by 
 operating, and by long practice, and by care- 
 ful observation : and this distrust in himself 
 was increased, when he discovered that the 
 
 * Lector, titulus quern legis, terror lugubris, furibusaffixug, 
 
 intus mortem, mortis genus, et hominmn 
 nunciat flagrum. Sta, et inquire, quid hoc ? 
 
 Mirare. Quid sibi vult 
 Tumuli Epigraphe Pestis ? 
 
 Sub anatome abii, non obii ; quamdiu malesuada invidia 
 
 Momi, et hominmn iguara cupido, 
 
 me fovebunt. 
 
 Ergo heic 
 
 Non funus, non cadaver, non mors, non sceleton, 
 non luctus, non conlagiura. 
 
 JETERNO DA G LORI AM 
 
 Quod Festis jam desiit, sub Auiiton-.es proprio supplicio.
 
 488 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Professors could give him no further light 
 than books had done. However, at the age 
 of twenty-two he was created Doctor of 
 Medicine in the same University. 
 
 Very soon he began to repent that he, 
 who was by birth noble, should have been 
 the first of his family to choose the medical 
 profession, and this against the will of his 
 mother, and without the knowledge of his 
 other relations. " I lamented," he says, 
 "with tears the sin of my disobedience, and 
 regretted the time and labour which had 
 been thus vainly expended: and often with a 
 sorrowful heart I intreated the Lord that he 
 would be pleased to lead me to a vocation 
 not of my own choice, but in which I might 
 best perform his will ; and I made a vow 
 that to whatever way of life he might call 
 me I would follow it, and do my utmost en- 
 deavour therein to serve him. Then, as if I 
 had tasted of the forbidden fruit, I dis- 
 covered my own nakedness. I saw that there 
 was neither truth nor knowledge in my 
 putative learning ; and thought it cruel to 
 derive money from the sufferings of others ; 
 and unfitting that an art, founded upon 
 charity, and conferred upon the condition of 
 exercising compassion, should be converted 
 into a means of lucre." 
 
 These reflections were promoted if not 
 induced by his having caught a disorder 
 which, as it is not mentionable in polite circles, 
 may be described by intimating that the 
 symptom from which it derives its name is 
 alleviated by what Johnson defines tearing 
 or rubbing with the nails. It was commu- 
 nicated to him by a young lady's glove, into 
 which, in an evil minute of sportive gallantry, 
 he had insinuated his hand. The physicians 
 treated him, secundum artem, in entire igno- 
 rance of the disease ; they bled him to cool 
 the liver, and they purged him to carry off 
 the torrid choler and the salt phlegm ; they 
 repeated this clearance again and again, till 
 from a hale strong and active man they had 
 reduced him to extreme leanness and debi- 
 lity without in the slightest degree abating 
 the cutaneous disease. He then persuaded 
 himself that the humours which the Gale- 
 nists were so triumphantly expelling from 
 
 his poor carcase had not pre-existed there 
 in that state, but were produced by the action 
 of their drugs. Some one cured him easily 
 by brimstone, and this is said to have made 
 him feelingly perceive the inefficiency of the 
 scholastic practice which he had hitherto 
 pursued. 
 
 In this state of mind he made over his in- 
 heritance to a widowed sister, who stood in 
 need of it, gave up his profession, and left 
 his own country with an intention of never 
 returning to it. The world was all before 
 him, and he began his travels with as little 
 fore-knowledge whither he was going, and 
 as little fore-thought of what he should do, 
 as Adam himself when the gate of Paradise 
 was closed upon him ; but he went with the 
 hope that God would direct his course by 
 His good pleasure to some good end. It so 
 happened that he who had renounced the 
 profession of medicine, as founded on delu- 
 sion and imposture, was thrown into the way 
 of practising it, by falling in company with 
 a man who had no learning, but who un- 
 derstood the practical part of chemistry, or 
 pyrotechny, as he calls it. The new world 
 which Columbus discovered did not open a 
 wider or more alluring field to ambition and 
 rapacity than this science presented to Van 
 Helmont's enthusiastic and inquiring mind. 
 " Then," says he, " when by means of fire I 
 beheld the penetrale, the inward or secret 
 part of certain bodies, I comprehended the 
 separations of many, which were not then 
 taught in books, and some of which are still 
 unknown." He pursued his experiments 
 with increasing ardour, and in the course of 
 two years acquired such reputation by the 
 cures which he performed, that because of 
 his reputation he was sent for by the Elector 
 of Cologne. Then indeed he became more 
 ashamed of his late and learned ignorance, 
 and renouncing all books because they sung 
 only the same cuckoo note, perceived that 
 he profited more by fire, and by conceptions 
 acquired in praying. "And then," says 
 he, " I clearly knew that I had missed the 
 entrance of true philosophy. On all sides 
 obstacles and obscurities and difficulties ap- 
 peared, which neither labour, nor time, nor
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 489 
 
 vigils, nor expenditure of money could over- 
 come and disperse, but only the mere good- 
 ness of God. Neither women nor social 
 meetings deprived me then of even a single 
 hour, but continual labour and watching 
 were the thieves of my time ; for I willingly 
 cured the poor and those of mean estate, 
 being more moved by human compassion, 
 and a moral love of giving, than by pure 
 universal charity reflected in the Fountain 
 of Life." 
 
 INTERCHAPTER XX. 
 
 ST. PANTALEON OF NICOMEDIA IN BITHYNIA 
 HIS HISTOET, AND SOME FURTHER PAR- 
 TICULARS NOT TO BE FOUND EJLSEWHEKE. 
 
 Won dicea le cose senza il quid ; 
 Che il dritto distingueva dal mancino, 
 E dicea pane at pane, e vino al vino. 
 
 BERTOLDO. 
 
 THIS Interchapter is dedicated to St. Panta- 
 leon, of Nicomedia in Bithynia, student in 
 medicine and practitioner in miracles, whose 
 martyrdom is commemorated by the Church 
 of Rome on the 27th of July. 
 
 SANCTB PANTALEON, ORA PRO NOBIS ! 
 
 This I say to be on the safe side ; though 
 between ourselves, reader, Nicephorus, and 
 Usuardus, and Vincentius, and St. Antoninus 
 (notwithstanding his sanctity) have written 
 so many lies concerning him, that it is very 
 doubtful whether there ever was such a per- 
 son, and still more doubtful whether there 
 be such a Saint. However the body which 
 is venerated under his name is just as vene- 
 rable as if it had really belonged to him, and 
 works miracles as well. 
 
 It is a tradition in Corsica that when St. 
 Pantaleon was beheaded the executioner's 
 sword was converted into a wax taper, and 
 the weapons of all his attendants into snuffers, 
 and that the head rose from the block and 
 sung. In honour of this miracle the Corsi- 
 cans, as late as the year 1775, used to have 
 their swords consecrated, or charmed, by 
 laying them on the altar while a mass was 
 performed to St. Pantaleon. 
 
 But what have I, who am writing in Janu- 
 ary instead of July, and who am no papist, 
 and who have the happiness of living in a 
 protestant country, and was baptized more- 
 over by a right old English name, what 
 have I to do with St. Pantaleon ? Simply this, 
 my new pantaloons are just come home, 
 and that they derive their name from the 
 aforesaid Saint is as certain, as that it 
 was high time I should have a new pair. 
 
 St. Pantaleon, though the tutelary Saint 
 of Oporto, (which city boasteth of his relics,) 
 was in more especial fashion at Venice : and 
 so many of the grave Venetians were in 
 consequence named after him, that the other 
 Italians called them generally Pantaloni in 
 derision, as an Irishman is called Pat, 
 and as Sawney is with us synonymous with 
 Scotchman, or Taffy for a son of Cadwallader 
 and votary of St. David and his leek. Now 
 the Venetians wore long small clothes ; these 
 as being the national dress were called Pan- 
 taloni also; and when the trunk-hose of 
 Elizabeth's days went out of fashion, we re- 
 ceived them from France, with the name of 
 pantaloons. 
 
 Pantaloons then, as of Venetian and Mag- 
 nifico parentage, and under the patronage of 
 an eminent Saint, are doubtless an honour- 
 able garb. They are also of honourable 
 extraction, being clearly of the Braccse 
 family. For it is this part of our dress by 
 which we are more particularly distinguished 
 from the Oriental and inferior nations, and 
 also from the abominable Romans, whom 
 our ancestors, Heaven be praised ! subdued. 
 Under the miserable reign of Honorius and 
 Arcadius, these Lords of the World thought 
 proper to expel the Braccarii, or breeches- 
 makers, from their capitals, and to prohibit 
 the use of this garment, thinking it a thing 
 unworthy that the Romans should wear the 
 habit of Barbarians : and truly it was not 
 fit that so effeminate a race should wear the 
 breeches. 
 
 The Pantaloons are of this good Gothic 
 family. The fashion having been disused 
 for more than a century was re -introduced 
 some five and twenty years ago, and still 
 prevails so much that I who like to go
 
 490 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 with the stream, and am therefore content 
 to have fashions thrust upon me, have just 
 received a new pair from London. 
 
 The coining of a box from the Great City 
 is an event which is always looked to by the 
 juveniles of this family with some degree of 
 impatience. In the present case there was 
 especial cause for such joyful expectation ; 
 for the package was to contain no less a trea- 
 sure than the story of the Lioness and the 
 Exeter Mail, with appropriate engravings 
 representing the whole of that remarkable 
 history, and those engravings emblazoned in 
 appropriate colours. This adventure had 
 excited an extraordinary degree of interest 
 among us, when it was related in the news- 
 papers : and no sooner had a book upon the 
 subject been advertised, than the young ones, 
 one and all, were in an uproar, and tumul- 
 tuously petitioned that I would send for it, 
 to which, thinking the prayer of the petition- 
 ers reasonable, I graciously assented. And 
 moreover there was expected, among other 
 things ejusdem generis, one of those very few 
 perquisites which the all-annihilating hand 
 of Modern Reform has not retrenched in 
 our public offices, an Almanac or Pocket- 
 Book for the year, curiously bound and gilt, 
 three only being made up in this magnificent 
 manner for three magnificent personages, 
 from one of whom this was a present to my 
 lawful Governess. Poor Mr. Bankes ! the 
 very hairs of his wig will stand erect, 
 
 Like quills upon the fretful porcupine, 
 
 when he reads of this flagrant misapplica- 
 tion of public money ; and Mr. Whitbread 
 would have founded a motion upon it, had 
 he survived the battle of Waterloo. 
 
 There are few things in which so many 
 vexatious delays are continually occurring, 
 and so many rascally frauds are systemati- 
 cally practised, as in the carriage of parcels. 
 It is indeed much to be wished that Govern- 
 ment could take into its hands the convey- 
 ance of goods as well as letters ; for in this 
 country whatever is done by Government 
 is done punctually and honourably ; what 
 corruption there is lies among the people 
 themselves, among whom honesty is certainly 
 
 less general than it was half a century ago. 
 Three or four days elapsed, on each of which 
 the box ought to have arrived. " Will it 
 come to-day, Papa?" was the morning ques- 
 tion : " why does not it come ? " was the com- 
 plaint at noon; and *'when will it come?" 
 was the query at night. But in childhood 
 the delay of hope is only the prolongation of 
 enjoyment ; and through life indeed, hope, 
 if it be of the right kind, is the best food 
 of happiness. " The House of Hope," says 
 Hafiz, " is built upon a weak foundation." 
 If it be so, I say, the fault is in the builder : 
 Build it upon a Rock, and it will stand. 
 
 Expectata dies, long looked for, at length 
 it came. The box was brought into the 
 parlour, the ripping-chisel was produced, 
 the nails were easily forced, the cover was 
 lifted, and the paper which lay beneath it was 
 removed. " There's the pantaloons ! " was 
 the first exclamation. The clothes being 
 taken out, there appeared below a paper 
 parcel, secured with a string. As I never 
 encourage any undue impatience, the string 
 was deliberately and carefully untied. Be- 
 hold, the splendid Pocket-Book, and the 
 history of the Lioness and the Exeter Mail, 
 had been forgotten ! 
 
 St. Peter ! St. Peter ! 
 
 " Pray, Sir," says the Reader, " as I per- 
 ceive you are a person who have a reason 
 for everything you say, may I ask where- 
 fore you call upon St. Peter on this oc- 
 casion?" 
 
 You may, Sir. 
 
 A reason there is, and a valid one. But 
 what that reason is, I shall leave the com- 
 mentators to discover ; observing only, 
 for the sake of lessening their difficulty, that 
 the Peter upon whom I have called is not 
 St. Peter of Verona, he having been an 
 Inquisitor, one of the Devil's Saints, and 
 therefore in no condition at this time to help 
 anybody who invokes him. 
 
 " Well, Papa, you must write about them, 
 and they must come in the next parcel," 
 said the children. Job never behaved bet- 
 ter, who was a scriptural Epictetus : nor 
 Epictetus, who was a heathen Job. 
 
 1 kissed the little philosophers ; and gave
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 491 
 
 them the Bellman's verses, which happened 
 to come in the box, with horrific cuts of 
 the Marriage at Cana, the Ascension, and 
 other portions of gospel history, and the 
 Bellman himself; so it was not altogether 
 a blank. We agreed that the disappoint- 
 ment should be an adjourned pleasure, and 
 then I turned to inspect the pantaloons. 
 
 I cannot approve the colour. It hath too 
 much of the purple ; not that imperial die 
 by which ranks were discriminated at Con- 
 stantinople, nor the more sober tint which 
 Episcopacy affecteth. Nor is it the bloom 
 of the plum; still less can it be said to 
 resemble the purple light of love. No ! it 
 is rather a hue brushed from the raven's 
 wing, a black purple ; not Night and Aurora 
 meeting, which would make the darkness 
 blush ; but Erebus and Ultramarine. 
 
 Doubtless it hath been selected for me 
 because of its alamodality, a good and 
 pregnant word, on the fitness of which 
 some German, whose name appears to be 
 erroneously as well as uncouthly written 
 Geamoenus, is said to have composed a 
 dissertation. Be pleased, Mr. Todd, to insert 
 it in the interleaved copy of your dictionary ! 
 
 Thankful I am that they are not like Jean 
 de Bart's full-dress breeches ; for when that 
 famous sailor went to court he is said to 
 have worn breeches of cloth of gold, most 
 uncomfortably as well as splendidly lined 
 with cloth of silver. 
 
 He would never have worn them, had he 
 read Lampridius, and seen the opinion of 
 the Emperor Alexander Severus, as by that 
 historian recorded : in lined aviem aurum 
 mitti etiam dementiam judicabat, cum asperi- 
 tati adderetur rigor. 
 
 The word breeches has, I am well aware, 
 been deemed ineffable, arid therefore not to 
 be written because not to be read. But 
 I am encouraged to use it by the high and 
 mighty authority of the Anti- Jacobin Re- 
 view. Mr. Stephens having in his Memoirs 
 of Home Tooke used the word small-clothes 
 is thus reprehended for it by the indignant 
 Censor. 
 
 " His breeches he calls small-clothes ; the 
 first time we have seen this bastard term, 
 
 the offspring of gross ideas and disgusting 
 affectation in print, in anything like a book. 
 It is scandalous to see men of education 
 thus employing the most vulgar language, 
 and corrupting their native tongue by the 
 introduction of illegitimate words. But this 
 is the age of affectation. Even our fish- 
 women and milkmaids affect to blush at the 
 only word which can express this part of a 
 man's dress, and lisp small-clothes with as 
 many airs as a would-be woman of fashion 
 is accustomed to display. That this folly is 
 indebted for its birth to grossness of imagi- 
 nation in those who evince it, will not admit 
 of a doubt. From the same source arises 
 the ridiculous and too frequent use of a 
 French word for a part of female dress ; as 
 if the mere change of language could ope- 
 rate a change either in the thing expressed, 
 or in the idea annexed to the expression ! 
 Surely, surely, English women, who are 
 justly celebrated for good sense and decorous 
 manners, should rise superior to such pitiful, 
 such paltry, such low-minded affectation." 
 
 Here I must observe that one of these 
 redoubtable critics is thought to have a par- 
 tiality for breeches of the Dutch make. It 
 is said also that he likes to cut them out for 
 himself, and to have pockets of capacious 
 size, wide and deep ; and a large fob, and a 
 large allowance of lining. 
 
 The Critic who so very much dislikes the 
 word small-clothes, and argues so vehemently 
 in behalf of breeches, uses no doubt that 
 edition of the scriptures that is known by 
 the name of the Breeches Bible. * 
 
 I ought to be grateful to the Anti- Jacobin 
 Review. It assists in teaching me my duty 
 to my neighbour, and enabling me to live in 
 charity with all men. For I might perhaps 
 think that nothing could be so wrong-headed 
 as Leigh Hunt, so wrong-hearted as Cob- 
 
 * The Bible here alluded to was the Genevan one, by 
 Rowland Hall, A. D. 1560. It was for many years the most 
 popular one in England, and the notes were great favourites 
 with the religious public, insomuch so that they were 
 attached to a copy of King James' Translation as late as 
 171ft. From the peculiar rendering of Genesis, iii. 7., the 
 Editions of this translation have been commonly known 
 by th name of " Breeches Bibles." See Cotton's Va- 
 rious Editions of the Bible, p. 14., and Ames and Herbert, 
 Ed. Dibdin, vol. iv. p. 410.
 
 492 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 bett, so foolish as one, so blackguard as the 
 other, so impudently conceited as both, if 
 it were not for the Anti- Jacobin. I might 
 believe that nothing could be so bad as the 
 coarse, bloody and brutal spirit of the vul- 
 gar Jacobin, if it were not for the Anti- 
 Jacobin. 
 
 Blessings on the man for his love of pure 
 English ! It is to be expected that he will 
 make great progress in it, through his fami- 
 liarity with fishwomen and milkmaids ; for 
 it implies no common degree of familiarity 
 with those interesting classes to talk to them 
 about breeches, and discover that they pre- 
 fer to call them small-clothes. 
 
 But wherefore did he not instruct us by 
 which monosyllable he would express the 
 female garment, " which is indeed the sister 
 to a shirt," as an old poet says, and which 
 he hath left unnamed, for there are two 
 by which it is denominated. Such a dis- 
 cussion would be worthy both of his good 
 sense and his decorous style. 
 
 For my part, instead of expelling the word 
 chemise from use I would have it fairly 
 naturalised. 
 
 Many plans have been proposed for re- 
 ducing our orthography to some regular 
 system, and improving our language in va- 
 rious ways. Mr. Elphinstone, Mr. Pinkerton, 
 and Mr. Spence, the founder of the Spencean 
 Philanthropists, have distinguished them- 
 selves in these useful and patriotic projects, 
 and Mr. Pytches is at present in like manner 
 laudably employed, though that gentleman 
 contents himself with reforming what these 
 bolder spirits would revolutionise. I also 
 would fain contribute to so desirable an end. 
 
 We agree that in spelling words it is proper 
 to discard all reference to their etymology. 
 The political reformer would confine the 
 attention of the Government exclusively to 
 what are called truly British objects ; and 
 the philological reformers in like manner 
 are desirous of establishing a truly British 
 language. 
 
 Upon this principle, I would anglicise the 
 orthography of chemise ; and by improving 
 upon the hint which the word would then 
 offer in its English appearance, we might 
 
 introduce into our language a distinction of 
 genders in which it has hitherto been de- 
 fective. For example, 
 
 Hemise and Shemise. 
 
 Here, without the use of an article or any 
 change of termination, we have the needful 
 distinction made more perspicuously than 
 by 6 and ), hie and hcec, le and la, or other 
 articles serving for no other purpose. 
 
 Again. In letter-writing, every person 
 knows that male and female letters have a 
 distinct sexual character ; they should there- 
 fore be generally distinguished thus, 
 
 Hepistle and Shepistle. 
 And as there is the same marked difference in 
 the writing of the two sexes I would propose 
 
 Penmanship and Penwomanship. 
 Erroneous opinions in religion being pro- 
 mulgated in this country by women as well 
 as men, the teachers of such false doctrines 
 may be divided into 
 
 Heresiarchs and Sheresiarchs, 
 so that we should speak of 
 
 the Heresy of the Quakers, 
 
 the Sheresy of Joanna Southcote's people. 
 
 The troublesome affection of the diaphragm, 
 which every person has experienced, is, 
 upon the same principle, to be called accord- 
 ing to the sex of the patient 
 
 Hecups or Shecups, 
 
 which, upon the principle of making our 
 language truly British, is better than the 
 more classical form of 
 
 Hiccups and Haeccups. 
 In its objective use the word becomes 
 Hiscups or Hercups ; 
 
 and in like manner Histerics should be 
 altered into Herterics, the complaint never 
 being masculine. 
 
 So also instead of making such words as 
 agreeable, comfortable, &c. adjectives of one 
 termination, I would propose, 
 Masculine agreeabeau, Feminine agreeabelle 
 
 comfortabeau comfortabelle 
 
 miserabeau miserabelle, 
 
 &c. &c.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 493 
 
 These things are suggested as hints to Mr. 
 Pytches, to be by him perpended in his im- 
 provement of our Dictionary. I beg leave 
 also to point out for his critical notice the 
 remarkable difference in the meaning of the 
 word misfortune, as applied to man, woman, 
 or child : a peculiarity for which perhaps no 
 parallel is to be found in any other language. 
 
 But to return from these philological 
 speculations to the Anti-Jacobin by whom 
 we have been led to them, how is it that 
 this critic, great master as he is of the vulgar 
 tongue, should affirm that breeches is the 
 only word by which this part of a man's 
 dress can be expressed ? Had he forgotten 
 that there was such a word as galligaskins ? 
 to say nothing of inexpressibles and dont- 
 mention 'ems. Why also did he forget 
 pantaloons ? and thus the Chapter like a 
 rondeau comes round to St. Pantaleon with 
 whom it began, 
 
 SANCTE PANTALEON, ORA PRO NOBIS ! 
 
 " HERB is another Chapter without a head- 
 ing," the Compositor would have said, 
 when he came to this part of the Manu- 
 script, if he had not seen at a glance, that in 
 my great consideration I had said it for 
 him. 
 
 Yes, Mr. Compositor ! Because of the 
 matter whereon it has to treat, we must, if 
 you please, entitle this an 
 
 ABCH-CUAPTER. 
 
 A Frenchman once, who was not ashamed 
 of appearing ignorant on such a subject, 
 asked another who with some reputation for 
 classical attainments had not the same rare 
 virtue, what was the difference between 
 Dryads and Hamadryads ; and the man of 
 erudition gravely replied that it was much 
 the same as that between Bishops and 
 Archbishops. 
 
 I have dignified this Arch-Chapter in its 
 designation, because it relates to the King. 
 
 Dr. Gooch, you are hereby requested to 
 order this book for his Majesty's library, 
 
 Celt une rare piece, et digne sitr mafoi, 
 Qu'on en fosse present au cabinet fun rot.* 
 
 Dr. Gooch, I have a great respect for you. 
 At thg time when there was an intention of 
 bringing a bill into Parliament for eman- 
 cipating the Plague from the Quarantine 
 Laws, and allowing to the people of Great 
 Britain their long withheld right of having 
 this disease as freely as the small pox, 
 measles and any other infectious malady, 
 you wrote a paper, and published it in the 
 Quarterly Review, against that insane in- 
 tention ; proving its insanity so fully by 
 matter of fact, and so conclusively by force 
 of reasoning, that your arguments carried 
 conviction with them, and put an end, for 
 the time, to that part of the emancipating 
 and free trade system. 
 
 Dr. Gooch, you have also written a 
 volume of medical treatises of which I 
 cannot speak more highly than by saying, 
 sure I am that if the excellent subject of 
 these my reminiscences were living, he 
 would, for his admiration of those treatises 
 have solicited the pleasure and honour of 
 your acquaintance. 
 
 Dr. Gooch, comply with this humble 
 request of a sincere, though unknown ad- 
 mirer, for the sake of your departed brother- 
 in-physic, who, like yourself, brought to the 
 study of the healing art a fertile mind, a 
 searching intellect, and a benevolent heart. 
 More, Dr. G., I might say, and more I would 
 say, but 
 
 Should I say more, you well might censure me 
 (What yet I never was) a flatterer.f 
 
 When the King (God bless his Majesty !) 
 shall peruse this book, and be well-pleased 
 therewith, if it should enter into his royal 
 mind to call for his Librarian, and ask of 
 him what honour and dignity hath been 
 done to the author of it, for having delighted 
 the heart of the King, and of so many of his 
 
 * MOLIBRK. 
 
 t BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
 
 494 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 liege subjects, and you shall have replied 
 unto his Majesty, "there is nothing done for 
 hLn ; " then Dr. Gooch when the King shall 
 take it into consideration how to testify his 
 satisfaction with the book and to manifest 
 his bounty toward the author, you are re- 
 quested to bear in mind my thoughts upon 
 this weighty matter, of which I shall now 
 proceed to put you in possession. 
 
 Should he generously think of conferring 
 upon me the honour of knighthood, or a 
 baronetcy, or a peerage, (Lord Doncaster 
 the title,) or a step in the peerage, according 
 to my station in life, of which you, Dr. 
 Gooch, can give him no information ; or 
 should he meditate the institution of an 
 Order of Merit for men of letters, with an 
 intention of nominating me among the 
 original members, worthy as such intentions 
 would be of his royal goodness, I should 
 nevertheless, for reasons which it is not 
 necessary to explain, deem it prudent to 
 decline any of these honours. 
 
 Far be it from me, Dr. Gooch, to wish 
 that the royal apparel should be brought 
 which the King useth to wear, and the horse 
 that the King rideth upon, and the crown 
 royal which is set upon his head ; and that 
 this apparel and horse should be delivered to 
 the hand of one of the King's most noble 
 princes, that he might array me withal ; and 
 bring me on horseback through the streets 
 of London, and proclaim before me, thus 
 shall it be done to the man whom the King 
 delighteth to honour ! Such an exhibition 
 would neither accord with this age, nor with 
 the manners of this nation, nor with my 
 humility. 
 
 As little should I desire that his Majesty 
 should give orders for me to be clothed in 
 purple, to drink in gold and to sleep upon 
 gold, and to ride in a chariot with bridles of 
 gold, and to have an head-tire of fine linen, 
 and a chain about my neck, and to eat next 
 the King, because of my wisdom, and to be 
 called the King's cousin. For purple 
 garments, Dr. Gooch, are not among the 
 propria qiue maribus in England at this 
 time ; it is better to drink in glass than in 
 gold, and to sleep upon a feather bed than 
 
 upon a golden one; the only head-tire 
 which I wear is my night-cap. I care not 
 therefore for the fineness of its materials ; 
 and I dislike for myself chains of any kind. 
 That his Majesty should think of sending 
 for me to sit next him because of my wisdom, 
 is what he in his wisdom will not do ; and 
 what, if he were to do, would not be agree- 
 able to me, in mine. But should the King 
 desire to have me called his Cousin, accom- 
 panying that of course with such an ap- 
 panage as would be seemly for its support, 
 and should he notify that most gracious 
 intention to you his Librarian, and give 
 order that it should be by you inserted in 
 the Gazette, to the end that the secret 
 which assuredly no sagacity can divine, and 
 no indiscretion will betray, should incon- 
 tinently thereupon be communicated through 
 you to the royal ear ; and that in future 
 editions of this work the name of the thus 
 honoured author should appear with the 
 illustrious designation, in golden letters, of 
 " by special command of his Majesty, 
 
 Cousitf TO THE KING." 
 
 A gracious mandate of this nature, Dr. 
 Gooch, would require a severe sacrifice from 
 my loyal and dutiful obedience. Not that 
 the respectful deference which is due to the 
 royal and noble house of Gloucester should 
 withhold me from accepting the proffered 
 honour ; to that house it could be nothing 
 derogatory ; the value of their consanguinity 
 would rather be the more manifest, when 
 the designation alone, unaccompanied with 
 rank, was thus rendered by special command 
 purely and singularly honourable. Still less 
 should I be influenced by any apprehension 
 of being confounded in cousinship with 
 Olive, calling herself Princess of Cumber- 
 land. Nevertheless let me say, Dr. Gooch, 
 while I am free to say it, while I am 
 treating of it paulo-post-futuratively, as of 
 a possible case, not as a question brought 
 before me for my prompt and irrevocable 
 answer, let me humbly say that I prefer 
 the incognito even to this title. It is not 
 necessary, and would not be proper to enter 
 into my reasons for that preference : suffice
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 495 
 
 it that it is my humour (speaking be it 
 observed respectfully, and using that word in 
 its critical and finer sense,) that it is the 
 idiosyncrasy of my disposition, the familiar 
 way in which it pleases me innocently to 
 exercise my privilege of free will. It is not 
 a secret which every body knows, which 
 nobody could help knowing and which was 
 the more notoriously known, because of its 
 presumed secresy. Incognito I am and wish 
 to be, and incognoscible it is in my power to 
 remain : 
 
 He deserves small trust, 
 Who is not privy councillor to himself; 
 
 but my secret, (being my own,) is like my 
 life (if that were needed) at the King's 
 service, and at his alone ; 
 
 Til; x'ji'oi; y !r<xT yr t SrJ.ovv Xaysv.* 
 
 Be pleased therefore, Dr. Gooch, if his 
 Majesty most graciously and most consi- 
 derately should ask, what may be done for 
 the man ( meaning me, ) whom the King 
 delighteth to honour ; be pleased, good 
 Dr. Gooch, to represent that the allowance 
 which is usually granted to a retired Envoy, 
 would content his wishes, make his fortunes 
 easy, and gladden his heart ; (Dr. Gooch 
 you will forgive the liberty thus taken with 
 you!) that "where the word of a King 
 is, there is power," that an ostensible 
 reason for granting it may easily be found, a 
 sealed communication from the unknown 
 being made through your hands ; that 
 nuiny Envoys have not deserved it better, 
 and many secret services which have been 
 as largely rewarded have not afforded to the 
 King so much satisfaction ; finally, that 
 this instance of royal bounty will not have 
 the effect of directing public suspicion 
 toward the object of that bounty, nor be 
 likely to be barked at by Joseph Hume, 
 Colonel Davies, and Daniel Whittle Har- 
 vey I 
 
 * SOPHOCLES. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXXVKL 
 
 FOLLY IN PRINT, REFERRED TO, BCT (N.B.) 
 NOT EXEMPLIFIED. THE FAIR MAID OF 
 DONCASTER. DOUBTS CONCERNING THE 
 AUTHENTICITY OF HER STORY. THEVE- 
 NARD, AND LOVE ON A NEW FOOTING. 
 STARS AND GARTERS. A MONITORY ANEC- 
 DOTE FOR OUR SEX, AND A WHOLESOME 
 NOVELTY IN DRESS RECOMMENDED TO 
 BOTH. 
 
 They be at hand, Sir, with stick and fiddle, 
 They can play a new dance, Sir, called hey, diddle, diddle. 
 
 KING CAMBYSES. 
 
 You have in the earlier chapters of this 
 Opus, gentle Reader, heard much of the 
 musical history of Doncaster ; not indeed as 
 it would have been related by that tho- 
 roughly good, fine-ear'd, kind-hearted, open- 
 handed, happiest of musicians and men, Dr. 
 Burney the first ; and yet I hope thou mayest 
 have found something in this relation which 
 has been to thy pleasure in reading, and 
 which, if it should be little to thy profit in 
 remembrance, will be nothing to thy hurt. 
 From music to dancing is an easy transition ; 
 but do not be afraid that I shall take thee 
 to a Ball, for I would rather go to the 
 Treading Mill myself. 
 
 What I have to say of Doncaster dancing 
 relates to times long before those to which 
 my reminiscences belong. 
 
 In a collection of Poems entitled " Folly 
 in Print" (which title might be sufficiently 
 appropriate for many such collections) or 
 a book of Rhymes, printed in 1667, there is 
 a Ballad called the Northern Lass, or the 
 Fair Maid of Doncaster. Neither book or 
 ballad has ever fallen in my way, nor has 
 that comedy of Richard Broome's, which 
 from its name Oldys supposed to have been 
 founded upon the same story. I learn, how- 
 ever, in a recent and voluminous account of 
 the English Stage from the Revolution, (by 
 a gentleman profoundly learned in the most 
 worthless of all literature, and for whom 
 that literature seems to have been quite 
 good enough,) that Broome's play has no 
 connection with the ballad, or with Don- 
 caster. But the note in which Oldys men-
 
 496 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 tions it has made me acquainted with this 
 Fair Maid's propensity for dancing, and 
 with the consequences that it brought upon 
 her. Her name was Betty Maddox ; a 
 modern ballad writer would call her Eli- 
 zabeth, if he adopted the style of the Eliza- 
 bethan age ; or Eliza, if his taste inclined to 
 the refinements of modern euphony. When 
 an hundred horsemen wooed her, says 
 Oldys, she conditioned that she would marry 
 the one of them who could dance her down ; 
 
 You shall decide your quarrel by a dance,* 
 
 but she wearied them all ; and they left her 
 a maid for her pains. 
 
 Legiadria tuosfervebat tanta per artus, 
 Ut qucecunque palest fieri saltatio per not 
 Humanot, agili motufiebat ab ;V/a.f 
 
 At that dancing match they must have 
 footed it till, as is said in an old Comedy, a 
 good country lass's capermonger might have 
 been able to copy the figure of the dance 
 from the impressions on the pavement. 
 
 For my own part I do not believe it to be 
 a true story ; they who please may. Was 
 there one of the horsemen but would have 
 said on such occasion, with the dancing 
 Peruvians in one of Davenant's operatic 
 dramas, 
 
 Still round and round and round, 
 
 Let us compass the ground. 
 
 What man is he who let-Is 
 
 Any weight at his heels, 
 
 Since our hearts are so light, that, all weigh 'd together, 
 Agree to a grain, and they weigh not a feather. 
 
 I disbelieve it altogether, and not for its 
 want of verisimilitude alone, but because 
 when I was young there was no tradition of 
 any such thing in the town where the venue 
 of the action is laid ; and therefore I con- 
 jecture that it is altogether a fictitious story, 
 and may peradventure have been composed 
 as a lesson for some young spinster whose 
 indefatigable feet made her the terror of all 
 partners. 
 
 The Welsh have a saying that if a woman 
 were as quick with her feet as her tongue, 
 she would catch lightning enough to kindle 
 the fire in the morning ; it is a fanciful 
 saying, as many of the Welsh sayings are. 
 But if Miss Maddox had been as quick with 
 
 DKYDBN. 
 
 t MACARONICA. 
 
 her tongue as her feet, instead of dancing an 
 hundred horsemen down, she might have 
 talked their hundred horses to death. 
 
 Why it was a greater feat than that of 
 Kempe the actor, who in the age of odd 
 performance danced from London to Nor- 
 wich. He was nine days in dancing the 
 journey, and published an account of it under 
 the title of his " Nine Days Wonder." J It 
 could have been no " light fantastic toe " 
 that went through such work ; but one fit 
 for the roughest game at football. At sight 
 of the awful foot to which it belonged, Cupid 
 would have fled with as much reason as the 
 Dragon of Wantley had for turning tail when 
 Moor of Moor Hall with his spiked shoe- 
 armour pursued him. He would have lied 
 before marriage, for fear of being kicked out 
 of the house after it. They must have been 
 feet that instead of gliding and swimming 
 and treading the grass so trim, went, as the 
 old Comedy says, lumperdee, clumperdee. 
 
 The Northern Lass was in this respect no 
 Cinderella. Nor would any one, short of an 
 Irish Giant, have fallen in love with her 
 slipper, as Thevenard the singer did with 
 that which he saw by accident at a shoe- 
 maker's, and inquiring for what enchanting 
 person it was made, and judging of this 
 earthly Venus as the proportions of Her- 
 cules have been estimated ex pede, sought 
 her out, for love of her foot, commenced his 
 addresses to her, and obtained her hand in 
 marriage. 
 
 The story of Thevenard is true ; at least it 
 has been related and received as such ; this 
 of the Fair Maid of Doncaster is not even 
 ben trovato. Who indeed shall persuade me, 
 or who indeed will be persuaded, that if she 
 had wished to drop the title of spinster, and 
 take her matrimonial degree, she would not 
 have found some good excuse for putting an 
 end to the dance when she had found a 
 partner to her liking ? A little of that wit 
 which seldom fails a woman when it is 
 
 t WEBSTER'S Westward Ho. Act. v. Sc. i. Anno 1600. 
 R. S. Since this note was written by the lamented 
 author, the Dancing Journey has been lepublished by 
 Mr. Dyce. 
 
 RALPH ROISTEB DOISTEB.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 497 
 
 needed, would have taught her how to do 
 this with a grace, and make it appear that 
 she was still an invincible dancer, though 
 the Stars had decreed that in this instance 
 she should lose the honour of the dance. 
 Some accident might have been feigned like 
 those by which the ancient epic poets and 
 their imitators contrive in their Games to 
 disappoint those who are on the point of 
 gaining the prize which is contended for. 
 
 If the Stars had favoured her, they might 
 have predestined her to meet with such an 
 accident as befel a young lady in the age of 
 minuets. She was led out in a large assem- 
 bly by her partner, the object of all eyes ; 
 and when the music began and the dance 
 should have began also, and he was in motion, 
 she found herself unable to move from the 
 spot, she remained motionless for a few 
 seconds, her colour changed from rose to 
 ruby, presently she seemed about to faint, 
 fell into the arms of those who ran to sup- 
 port her, and was carried out of the room. 
 The fit may have been real, for though 
 nothing ailed her, yet what had happened 
 was enough to make any young woman faint 
 in such a place. It was something far more 
 embarrassing than the mishap against which 
 Soame Jenyns cautions the ladies when he 
 says, 
 
 No waving lappets should the dancing fair, 
 Nor ruffles edged with dangling fringes wear ; 
 Oft will the cobweb ornaments catch hold 
 On the approaching button, rough with gold ; 
 Nor force nor art can then the bonds divide, 
 When once the entangled Gordian knot is tied. 
 So the unhappy pair, by Hymen's power 
 Together joined in some ill-fated hour, 
 The more they strive their freedom to regain, 
 The faster binds the indissoluble chain. 
 
 It was worse than this in the position in 
 which she had placed herself according to 
 rule ; for beginning the minuet, she was 
 fastened not by a spell, not by the influence 
 of her malignant Stars, but by the hooks 
 and eyes of her garters. The Countess of 
 Salisbury's misfortune was as much less em- 
 barrassing as it was more celebrated. 
 
 No such misfortunes could have happened 
 to that Countess who has been rendered 
 illustrious thereby, nor to the once fair 
 danceress, who would have dreaded nothing 
 
 more than that her ridiculous distress should 
 become publicly known, if they had worn 
 genouilleres, that is to say, knee-pieces. A 
 necessary part of a suit of armour was dis- 
 tinguished by this name in the days of chi- 
 valry ; and the article of dress which corre- 
 sponds to it may be called kneelets, if for a 
 new article we strike a new word in that 
 mint of analogy, from which whatever is 
 lawfully coined comes forth as the King's 
 English. Dress and cookery are both great 
 means of civilisation ; indeed they are among 
 the greatest ; both in their abuse are made 
 subservient to luxury and extravagance, and 
 so become productive of great evils, moral 
 and physical ; and with regard to both the 
 physician may sometimes interfere with 
 effect, when the moralist would fail. In diet 
 the physician has more frequently to oppose 
 the inclinations of his patient, than to gratify 
 them ; and it is not often that his advice in 
 matters of dress meets with willing ears, al- 
 though in these things the maxim will gene- 
 rally hold good, that whatever is wholesome 
 is comfortable, and that whatever causes dis- 
 comfort or uneasiness is more or less injurious 
 to health. But he may recommend kneelets 
 without having any objection raised on the 
 score of fashion, or of vanity ; and old and 
 young may be thankful for the recommenda- 
 tion. Mr. lleady-to-halt would have found 
 that they supported his weak joints, and ren- 
 dered him less liable to rheumatic attacks ; 
 and his daughter Much-afraid, if she had 
 worn them when she " footed it hand- 
 somely," might have danced without any 
 fear of such accidents as happened to the 
 Countess of old, or the heroine of the minuet 
 in later times. 
 
 Begin therefore forthwith, dear Lady- 
 readers, to knit genouilleres for yourselves, 
 and for those whom you love. You will 
 like them better, I know, by their French 
 name, though English comes best from 
 English lips ; but so you knit and wear them, 
 call them what you will. 
 
 K K
 
 493 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 CHAPTER CLXXXIX. 
 
 THE DOCTOR'S OPINION OF LATE HOURS. 
 DANCING. FANATICAL OBJECTION OF THE 
 ALBIGENSES ; INJURIOUS EFFECT OF THAT 
 OPINION WHEN TRANSMITTED TO THE 
 FRENCH PROTESTANTS. SIR JOHN DAVIES 
 AND BURTON QUOTED TO SHOW THAT IT 
 CAN BE NO DISPARAGEMENT TO SAY THAT 
 ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE, WHEN ALL 
 THE SKY'S A BALL-ROOM. 
 
 I could be pleased with any one 
 
 Who entertained my sight with such gay shows, 
 
 As men and women moving here and there, 
 
 That coursing one another in their steps 
 
 Have made their feet a tune. DRYDBN. 
 
 THE Doctor was no dancer. He had no 
 inclination for this pastime even in what the 
 song calls " our dancing days," partly be- 
 cause his activity lay more in his head than 
 in his heels, and partly perhaps from an ap- 
 prehension of awkwardness, the consequence 
 of his rustic breeding. In middle and later 
 life he had strong professional objections, 
 not to the act of dancing, but to the crowded 
 and heated rooms wherein it was carried on, 
 and to the late hours to which it was con- 
 tinued. In such rooms and at such as- 
 semblies, the Devil, as an old dramatist says, 
 " takes delight to hang at a woman's girdle, 
 like a rusty watch, that she cannot discern how 
 the time passes." * Bishop Hall, in our friend's 
 opinion, spake wisely when, drawing an ideal 
 picture of the Christian, he said of him, " in 
 a due season he betakes himself to his rest. 
 He presumes not to alter the ordinance of 
 day and night; nor dares confound, where 
 distinctions are made by his Maker." 
 
 Concerning late hours indeed he was much 
 of the same opinion as the man in the old 
 play, who thought that " if any thing was to 
 be damned, it would be Twelve o'clock at 
 night." 
 
 Tnese should be hours for necessities, 
 Not for delights ; times to repair our nature 
 With comforting repose, and not for us 
 To waste these times. t 
 
 He used to sny that whenever he heard of a 
 
 ball carried on far into the night, or more 
 properly speaking, far into the morning, it 
 reminded him, with too much reason, of the 
 Dance of Death. 
 
 Rise with the lark, and with the lark to bed : 
 The breath of night's destructive to the hue 
 Of ev'ry flow'r that blows. Go to the field, 
 And ask the humble daisy why it sleeps 
 Soon as the sun departs ? Why close the eyes 
 Of blossoms infinite, long ere the moon 
 Her oriental veil puts off? Think why. 
 Nor let the sweetest blossom Nature boasts 
 Be thus exposed to night's unkindly damp. 
 Well may it droop, and all its freshness lose, 
 Compell'd to taste the rank and pois'uous steam 
 Of midnight theatre, and morning ball. 
 Give to repose the solemn hour she claims. 
 And from the forehead of the morning steal 
 The sweet occasion. O there is a charm 
 Which morning has, that gives the brow of age 
 A smack of earth, and makes the lip of youth 
 Shed perfume exquisite. Expect it not, 
 Ye who till noon upon a down-bed lie, 
 Indulging feverous sleep. t 
 
 The reader need not be told that his ob- 
 jections were not puritanical, but physical. 
 The moralist who cautioned his friend to 
 refrain from dancing, because it was owing 
 to a dance that John the Baptist lost his 
 head, talked, he said, like a fool. Nor 
 would he have formed a much more favour- 
 able opinion of the Missionary in South 
 Africa, who told the Hottentots that dancing 
 is a work of darkness, and that a fiddle is 
 Satan's own instrument. At such an assertion 
 he would have exclaimed a fiddlestick ! 
 
 Why and how that word has become an 
 interjection of contempt, I must leave those 
 to explain who can. The Albigenses and 
 the Vaudois are said to have believed that 
 a dance is the Devil's procession, in which 
 they who dance break the promise and vow 
 which their sponsors made for them at their 
 baptism, that they should renounce the Devil 
 and all his works, the pomps and vanities of 
 this wicked world, (not to proceed further,) 
 
 this being one of his works, and un- 
 deniably one of the aforesaid vanities and 
 
 t SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 t HCRDIS' VILLAGE CURATE. 
 
 The explanation following is given in Grose's Clas- 
 sical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue. FIDDLESTICK'S 
 END. Nothing : the ends of the ancient fiddlesticks end- 
 ing in a point: hence metaphorically used to express a 
 thing terminating in nothing.
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 
 499 
 
 pomps. They break, moreover, all the ten 
 commandments, according to these fanatics ; 
 for fanatics they must be deemed who said 
 this; and the manner in which they at- 
 tempted to prove the assertion, by exempli- 
 fying it through the decalogue, shows that 
 the fermentation of their minds was in the 
 acetous stage. 
 
 Unfortunately for France, this opinion 
 descended to the Huguenots ; and the pro- 
 gress of the Reformation in that country was 
 not so much promoted by Marot's psalms, 
 as it was obstructed by this prejudice, a 
 prejudice directly opposed to the tempera- 
 ment and habits of a mercurial people. 
 " Dancing," says Peter Heylyn, " is a sport 
 to which they are so generally affected, that 
 were it not so much enveighed against by 
 their straight-laced Ministers, it is thought 
 that many more of the French Catholicks 
 had been of the Reformed Religion. For 
 so extremely are they bent upon this disport, 
 that neither Age nor Sickness, no - nor 
 poverty itself, can make them keep their 
 heels still, when they hear the Music. Such 
 as can hardly walk abroad without their 
 Crutches, or go as if they were troubled all 
 day with a Sciatica, and perchance have 
 their rags hang so loose about them, that 
 one would think a swift Galliard might 
 shake them into their nakedness, will to the 
 Dancing Green howsoever, and be there as 
 eager at the sport, as if they had left their 
 several infirmities and wants behind them. 
 What makes their Ministers (and indeed all 
 that follow the Genevian Discipline) enveigh 
 so bitterly against Dancing, and punish it 
 with such severity when they find it used ? I 
 am not able to determine, nor doth it any 
 way belong unto this discourse. But being, 
 as it is, a Recreation which this people are 
 so given unto, and such a one as cannot be 
 followed but in a great deal of company, 
 and before many witnesses and spectators of 
 their carriage in it : I must needs think the 
 Ministers of the French Church more nice 
 than wise, if they choose rather to deter men 
 from their Congregations, by so strict a 
 Stoicism, than indulge anything unto the 
 jollity and natural gaiety of this people, 
 
 in matters not offensive, but by accident 
 only." * 
 
 Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue, 
 But moody and dull melancholy, 
 Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair ; 
 And at their heels, a huge infectious troop 
 Of pale distemperatures and foes to life.f 
 
 It is a good-natured Roman Catholic who 
 says, " that the obliging vices of some people 
 are better than the sour and austere virtues 
 of others." The fallacy is more in his lan- 
 guage than in his morality ; for virtue is 
 never sour, and in proportion as it is austere 
 we may be sure that it is adulterated. Be- 
 fore a certain monk of St. Gal, Iso by name, 
 was born, his mother dreamed that she was 
 delivered of a hedgehog; her dream was 
 fulfilled in the character which he lived to 
 obtain of being bristled with virtues like 
 one. Methinks no one would like to come 
 in contact with a person of this description. 
 Yet among the qualities which pass with a 
 part of the world for virtues, there are some 
 of a soft and greasy kind, from which I 
 should shrink with the same instinctive 
 dislike. I remember to have met some- 
 where with this eulogium passed upon one 
 dissenting minister by another, that he was 
 a lump of piety ! I prefer the hedgehog. 
 
 A dance, according to that teacher of the 
 Albigenses whose diatribe has been pre- 
 served, is the service of the Devil, and the 
 fiddler, whom Ben Jonson calls Tom Tick- 
 lefoot, is the Devil's minister. If he had 
 known what Plato had said he would have 
 referred to it in confirmation of this opinion ; 
 for Plato says that the Gods, compassionating 
 the laborious life to which mankind were 
 doomed, sent Apollo, Bacchus and the 
 Muses to teach them to sing, to drink, and 
 to dance. And the old Puritan would, to 
 his own entire satisfaction, have identified 
 Apollo with Apollyon. 
 
 " But shall we make the welkin dance indeed ? " t 
 
 The Rector of a Parish once complained to Fenelon 
 of the practice of the villagers in dancing on Sunday 
 evenings. " My good friend," replied the prelate, " you 
 and I should not dance ; but allowance must be made to 
 the poor people, who have only one day in the week to 
 forget their misfortunes." 
 
 t SHAKESPEARE. t IBID. 
 
 K K2
 
 500 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Sir John Davies, who holds an honour- 
 able and permanent station among English 
 statesmen and poets, deduces Dancing, in a 
 youthful poem of extraordinary merit, from 
 the Creation, saying that it 
 
 then began to be 
 
 When the first seeds whereof the world did spring, 
 The fire, air, earth, and water did agree, 
 By Love's persuasion, Nature's mighty king, 
 To leave their first disordered combating; 
 And in a dance such measure to observe, 
 As all the world their motion should preserve. 
 
 He says that it with the world 
 
 in point of time begun : 
 Yea Time itself, (whose birth Jove never knew, 
 
 And which indeed is elder than the Sun,) 
 
 Had not one moment of his age outrun, 
 When out leapt Dancing from the heap of things, 
 And lightly rode upon his nimble wings. 
 For that brave Sun, the father of the day. 
 
 Doth love this Earth, the mother of the Night, 
 And like a reveller in rich array, 
 
 Doth dance his galliard in his leman's sight. 
 
 
 
 Who doth not see the measures of the Moon, 
 
 Which thirteen times she danceth every year ? 
 And ends her pavin thirteen times as soon 
 
 As doth her brother, of whose golden hair 
 
 She borroweth part, and proudly doth it wear ; 
 Then doth she coyly turn her face aside, 
 That half her cheek is scarce sometimes descried. 
 And lo ! the Sea that fleets about the land, 
 
 And like a girdle clips her solid waist, 
 Music and measure both doth understand : 
 
 For his great crystal eye is always cast 
 
 Up to the Moon, and on her fixed fast ; 
 And as she danceth in her pallid sphere, 
 So danceth he about the centre here. 
 
 This is lofty poetry, and one cannot but 
 regret that the poet should have put it in 
 the mouth of so unworthy a person as one of 
 Penelope's suitors, though the best of them 
 has been chosen. The moral application 
 which he makes to matrimony conveys a 
 wholesome lesson : 
 
 If they whom sacred love hath link'd in one, 
 Do, as they dance, in all their course of life ; 
 
 Never shall burning grief, nor bitter moan, 
 Nor factious difference, nor unkind strife, 
 Arise betwixt the husband and the wife ; 
 
 For whether forth, or back, or round he go, 
 
 As the man doth, so must the woman do. 
 
 What if, by often interchange of place 
 Sometimes the woman gets the upper hand ? 
 
 That is but done for more delightful grace ; 
 For on that part she doth not ever stand ; 
 But as the measure's law doth her command, 
 
 She wheels about, and ere the dance doth end, 
 
 Into her former place she doth transcend.* 
 
 * It is remarkable that Sir John Davies should have 
 written this Poem, which he entitled the Orchestra, and 
 
 This poem of Sir John Davies could not 
 have been unknown to Burton, for Burton 
 read everything ; but it must have escaped 
 his memory ; otherwise he who delighted in 
 quotations and quoted so well, would have 
 introduced some of his stanzas, when he 
 himself was treating of the same subject, and 
 illustrated it with some of the same simili- 
 tudes. " The Sun and Moon, some say," 
 (says he,) " dance about the earth ; the three 
 upper planets about the Sun as their centre, 
 now stationary, now direct, now retrograde, 
 now in apogoeo, then in perigceo, now swift, 
 then slow ; occidental, oriental, they turn 
 round, jump and trace ? and $ about the 
 Sun, with those thirty-three Macula or Bur- 
 bonian planets, circa Solem saltuntes cytha- 
 redum, saith Fromundus. Four Medicean 
 stars dance about Jupiter, two Austrian 
 about Saturn, &c., and all belike to the music 
 of the spheres." 
 
 Sir Thomas Browne had probably this 
 passage in his mind, when he said " acquaint 
 thyself with the choragium of the stars." 
 
 " The whole matter of the Universe and 
 all the parts thereof," says Henry More, 
 " are ever upon motion, and in such a dance 
 as whose traces backwards and forwards 
 take a vast compass ; and what seems to have 
 made the longest stand, must again move, 
 according to the modulations and accents of 
 that Music, that is indeed out of the hear- 
 ing of the acutest ears, but yet perceptible 
 by the purest minds, and the sharpest wits. 
 The truth whereof none would dare to op- 
 pose, if the breath of the gainsayer could 
 but tell its own story, and declare through 
 how many Stars and Vortices it has been 
 strained, before the particles thereof met, 
 to be abused to the framing of so rash a 
 contradiction." 
 
 that very remarkable and beautiful one on the Immor- 
 tality of the Soul.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 501 
 
 CHAPTER CXC. 
 
 DANCING PROSCRIBED BY THE METHODISTS. 
 ADAM CLARKE. BURCHELL's REMARKS ON 
 THE UNIVERSALITY OF THIS PRACTICE. 
 HOW IT IS REGARDED IN THE COLUMBIAN 
 PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Non vi par adnnque che habbiamo ragionato a bastanza 
 di qucsto ? A bastanza parmi, rispose il Signor Gasparo; 
 pur desidero to d' intendere qualche particularity anchor. 
 
 IL CORTEGIANO. 
 
 THE Methodist Preachers in the first Confer- 
 ence (that is Convocation or Yearly Meeting) 
 after Mr. Wesley's death, passed a law for 
 the public over which their authority ex- 
 tends, or, in their own language, made a rule, 
 that " schoolmasters and schoolmistresses who 
 received dancing-masters into their schools, 
 and parents also who employed dancing- 
 masters for their children, should be no 
 longer members of the Methodist Society." 
 Many arguments were urged against this 
 rule, and therefore it was defended in the 
 Magazine, which is the authorised organ of 
 the Conference, by the most learned and the 
 most judicious of their members, Adam 
 Clarke. There was, however, a sad want of 
 judgment in some of the arguments which 
 he employed. He quoted the injunction of 
 St. Paul, " whatsoever ye do in word or 
 deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, 
 giving thanks to God and the Father by him," 
 and he applied the text thus. Can any 
 person, can any Christian dance in the name 
 of the Lord Jesus ? Or, through him, give 
 thanks to God the Father for such an em- 
 ployment ? 
 
 Another text also appeared to him deci- 
 sive against dancing and its inseparable con- 
 comitants ; " woe unto them who chaunt 
 unto the sound of the viol, and invent unto 
 themselves instruments of music, as did 
 David." The original word, which we trans- 
 late chaunt, signifies, according to him, to 
 quaver, to divide, to articulate, and may, he 
 says, as well be applied to the management 
 of the feet, as to the modulations of the 
 voice. This interpretation is supported by 
 the Septuagiut, and by the Arabic version ; 
 
 but suppose it be disputed, he says, " yet this 
 much will not be denied, that the text is 
 pointedly enough against that without which 
 dancing cannot well be carried on, I mean, 
 instrumental music." He might have read 
 in Burton that " nothing was so familiar in 
 France as for citizens' wives and maids to 
 dance a round in the streets, and often too 
 for want of better instruments to make good 
 music of their own voices, and dance after it." 
 Ben Jonson says truly " that measure is the 
 soul of a dance, and Tune the tickle-foot 
 thereof;" but in case of need the mouth can 
 supply its own music. 
 
 It is true the Scripture says " there is a 
 time to dance ;" but this he explains as 
 simply meaning " that human life is a varie- 
 gated scene." Simple readers must they be 
 who can simply understand it thus, to the 
 exclusion of the literal sense. Adam Clarke 
 has not remembered here that the Psalms 
 enjoin us to praise the Lord with tabret and 
 harp and lute, the strings and the pipe, and 
 the trumpet and the loud cymbals, and to 
 praise his name in the dance, and that David 
 danced before the Ark. And though he 
 might argue that Jewish observances are 
 no longer binding, and that some things 
 which were permitted under the Jewish dis- 
 pensation are no longer lawful, he certainly 
 would not have maintained that anything 
 which was enjoined among its religious solem- 
 nities can now in itself be sinful. 
 
 I grant, he says, " that a number of mo- 
 tions and steps, circumscribed by a certain 
 given space, and changed in certain quan- 
 tities of time, may be destitute of physical 
 and moral evil. But it is not against these 
 things abstractedly that I speak. It is 
 against their concomitant and consequent 
 circumstances ; the undue, the improper 
 mixture of the sexes ; the occasions and 
 opportunities afforded of bringing forth 
 those fruits of death which destroy their own 
 souls, and bring the hoary heads of their 
 too indulgent parents with sorrow to the 
 grave. 
 
 So good a man as Adam Clarke is not to 
 be suspected of acting like an Advocate here, 
 and adducing arguments which he knew to
 
 502 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 be fallacious, in support of a cause not te- 
 nable by fair reasoning. And how so wise a 
 man could Lave reasoned so weakly, is ex- 
 plained by a passage in his most interesting 
 and most valuable autobiography. " Mala 
 ave, when about twelve or thirteen years 
 of age, I learned to dance. I long resisted 
 all solicitations to this employment ; but at 
 last I suffered myself to be overcome ; and 
 learnt, and profited beyond most of my fel- 
 lows. I grew passionately fond of it, would 
 scarcely walk but in measured time, and was 
 continually tripping, moving, and shuffling 
 in all times and places. I began now to 
 value myself, which, as far as I can recollect, 
 I had never thought of before. I grew im- 
 patient of control, was fond of company, 
 wished to mingle more than I had ever done 
 with young people. I got also a passion for 
 better clothing than that which fell to my 
 lot in life, was discontented when I found a 
 neighbour' s son dressed better than myself. 
 I lost the spirit of subordination, and did not 
 love work, imbibed a spirit of idleness, and, in 
 short, drunk in all the brain-sickening efflu- 
 via of pleasure. Dancing and company took 
 the place of reading and study; and the 
 authority of my parents was feared indeed, 
 but not respected ; and few serious impres- 
 sions could prevail in a mind imbued now 
 with frivolity and the love of pleasure ; yet 
 I entered into no disreputable assembly, and 
 in no one case ever kept any improper com- 
 pany. I formed no illegal connection, nor 
 associated with any whose characters were 
 either tarnished or suspicious. Nevertheless 
 dancing was to me a perverting influence, an 
 unmixed moral evil ; for although, by the 
 mercy of God, it led me not to depravity of 
 manners, it greatly weakened the moral prin- 
 ciple, drowned the voice of a well instructed 
 conscience, and was the first cause of im- 
 pelling me to seek my happiness in this life. 
 Everything yielded to the disposition it had 
 produced, and everything was absorbed by 
 it. I have it justly in abhorrence for the 
 moral injury it did me ; and I can testify, 
 (as far as my own observations have ex- 
 tended, and they have had a pretty wide 
 range,) I have known it to produce the same 
 
 evil in others that it produced in me. I con- 
 sider it therefore as a branch of that worldly 
 education, which leads from heaven to earth, 
 from things spiritual to things sensual, and 
 from God to Satan. Let them plead for it 
 who will ; I know it to be evil, and that only. 
 They who bring up their children in this 
 way, or send them to these schools where 
 dancing is taught, are consecrating them to 
 the service of Moloch, and cultivating the 
 passions, so as to cause them to bring forth 
 the weeds of a fallen nature, with an addi- 
 tional rankness, deep-rooted inveteracy, and 
 inexhaustible fertility. Nemo sobrius saltat, 
 ' no man in his senses will dance,' said Cicero, 
 a heathen ; shame on those Christians who 
 advocate a cause by which many sorts have 
 become profligate, and many daughters have 
 been ruined." Such was the experience of 
 Adam Clarke in dancing, and such was his 
 opinion of the practice.* 
 
 An opinion not less unfavourable is ex- 
 pressed in homely old verse by the translator 
 of the Ship of Fools, Alexander Barclay. 
 
 Than it in the earth no game is more damnable ; 
 It seemeth no peace, but battle openly, 
 
 They that it use of minds seem unstable, 
 As mad folk running with clamour, shout and cry 
 What place is void of this furious folly ? 
 
 None ; so that I doubt within a while 
 
 These fools the holy Church shall defile. 
 
 Of people what sort or order may we find, 
 
 Rich or poor, high or low of name, 
 But by tbeir foolishness and wanton mind, 
 
 Of each sort some are given unto the same. 
 
 The priests anil clerks to dance have no shame. 
 The friar or monk, in hU frock and cowl, 
 Must dance in his dortour, leaping to play the fool. 
 
 To it comes children, maids, and wives, 
 And flattering young men to see to have their prey ; 
 
 The hand-in-hand great falsehood oft contrives. 
 The old quean also this madness will assay ; 
 And the old dotard, though he scantly may 
 
 For age and lameness stir either foot or hand, 
 
 Yet playeth he the fool, with others in the band. 
 
 * It is old Fuller's observation, that " people over I 
 strait-laced in one part will hardly fail to grow awry in 
 another." Over against the observations of Adam Clarke 
 may be set th- following, from the life of that excellent 
 man Sir William Jones. " Nor was he so indifferent 
 to slighter accomplishments as not to avail himself of the 
 instructions of a celebrated dancing-master at Aix-la- 
 Chapelle. He had before taken lessons from Gallini in 
 that trifling art." Carey's Lives of English Poets. Sir 
 William Jones, p. 3!>9.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Then leap they about as folk past their mind, 
 With madness amazed running in compace ; 
 
 He most is commended that can most lewdness find, 
 Or can most quickly run about the place, 
 There are all manners used that lack grace, 
 
 Moving their bodies iu signs full of shame, 
 
 Which doth their hearts to sin right sore inflame. 
 
 Do away your dances, ye people much unwise ! 
 
 Desist your foolish pleasure of travayle ! 
 It is mi-thinks an unwise use and guise 
 
 To take such labour and pain without avayle. 
 
 And who that suspecteth his maid or wives tayle, 
 Let him not suffer them in the dance to be ; 
 
 For in that game though size or cinque them fayle, 
 The dice oft runneth upon the chance of three. 
 
 The principle upon which such reasoning 
 rests is one against which the Doctor ex- 
 pressed a strong opinion, whenever he heard 
 it introduced. Nothing, he thought, could 
 be more unreasonable than that the use of 
 what is no ways hurtful or unlawful in itself, 
 should be prohibited because it was liable to 
 abuse. If that principle be once admitted, 
 where is it to stop ? There was a Persian 
 tyrant, who having committed some horrible 
 atrocity in one of his fits of drunkenness, 
 ordered all the wine in his dominions to be 
 spilt as soon as he became sober, and was 
 conscious of what he had done ; and in this 
 he acted rightly, under a sense of duty as 
 well as remorse ; for it was enjoining obe- 
 dience to a law of his religion, and enforcing 
 it in a manner the most effectual. But a 
 Christian government, which because drun- 
 kenness is a common sin shall prohibit all 
 spirituous liquors, would by so doing subject 
 the far greater and better part of the com- 
 munity to an unjust and hurtful privation; 
 thus punishing the sober, the inoffensive, and 
 the industrious, for the sake of the idle, the 
 worthless, and the profligate. 
 
 Jones of Nayland regarded these things 
 with no puritanical feeling. " In joy and 
 thanksgiving," says that good and true 
 minister of the Church of England, " the 
 tongue is not content with speaking ; it must 
 evoke and utter a song, while the feet are 
 also disposed to dance to the measures of 
 music, as was the custom in sacred cele- 
 brities of old among the people of God, 
 before the World and its vanities had en- 
 grossed to themselves all the expressions of 
 mirth and festivity. They have now left 
 
 nothing of that kind to religion, which 
 must sit by in gloomy solemnity, and see the 
 World with the Flesh and the Devil assume 
 to themselves the sole power of distributing 
 social happiness." 
 
 " Dancing," says Mr. Burchell, " appears 
 to have been in all ages of the world, and 
 perhaps in all nations, a custom so natural, 
 so pleasing, and even useful, that we may 
 readily conclude it will continue to exist as 
 long as mankind shall continue to people the 
 earth. We see it practised as much by the 
 savage as by the civilised, as much by the 
 lowest as by the highest classes of society ; 
 and as it is a recreation purely corporeal, 
 and perfectly independent of mental quali- 
 fication, or refinement, all are equally fitted 
 for enjoying it : it is this probably which 
 has occasioned it to become universal. All 
 attempts therefore at rendering any exertion 
 of the mind necessary to its performance, 
 are an unnatural distortion of its proper and 
 original features. Grace and ease of motion 
 are the extent of its perfection : because 
 these are the natural perfections of the 
 human body. Every circumstance and ob- 
 ject by which man is surrounded may be 
 viewed in a philosophical light ; and thus 
 viewed, dancing appears to be a recreative 
 mode of exercising the body and keeping it 
 in health, the means of shaking off spleen, 
 and of expanding one of the best characters 
 of the heart, the social feeling. When it 
 does not affect this, the fault is uot in the 
 dance, but in the dancer ; a perverse mind 
 makes all things like itself. Dancing and 
 music, which appear to be of equal anti- 
 quity, and equally general among mankind, 
 are connected together only by a community 
 of purpose : what one is for the body, the 
 other is for the mind." 
 
 The Doctor had come to a conclusion not 
 unlike this traveller's concerning dancing, 
 he believed it to be a manifestation of that 
 instinct by which the young are excited to 
 wholesome exercise, and by which in riper 
 years harmless employment is afforded for 
 superfluous strength and restless activity. 
 The delight which girls as well as boys take 
 in riotous sports were proof enough, he said,
 
 504 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 that Nature had not given so universal an 
 inclination without some wise purpose. An 
 infant of six months will ply its arms and 
 legs .in the cradle, with all its might and 
 main, for joy, this being the mode of 
 dancing at that stage of life. Nay, he said, 
 he could produce grave authorities on which 
 casuists would pronounce that a probable 
 belief might be sustained, to prove that it is 
 an innate propensity, and of all propensities 
 the one which has been developed in the 
 earliest part of mortal existence ; for it is re- 
 corded of certain Saints, that on certain holi- 
 days, dedicated either to the mystery, or to 
 the heavenly patron under whose particular 
 patronage they were placed, they danced 
 before they were born, a sure token or 
 presage of their future holiness and canoni- 
 sation, and a not less certain proof that the 
 love of dancing is an innate principle. 
 
 Lovest thou Music ? 
 
 Oh, 'tis sweet 1 
 What's dancing ? 
 
 E'en the mirth of feet. 
 
 CHAPTER CXCI. 
 
 A SERIOUS WORD IN SAD APOLOGY FOR ONE 
 OF THE MANT FOOLISH WAYS IN WHICH 
 TIME IS MIS-SPENT. 
 
 Time, as he passes us, has a dove's wing, 
 Unsoil'd, and swift, and of a silken sound ; 
 But the World's Time, is Time in masquerade 1 
 Their's, should I paint him, has his pinions fledged, 
 With motley plumes ; and where the peacock shews 
 His azure eyes, is tinctured black and red 
 With spots quadrangular of diamond form, 
 Ensanguined hearts, clubs typical of strife, 
 And spades, the emblem of untimely graves. 
 
 COWPER. 
 
 HUNTING, gaming, and dancing are three 
 propensities to which men are inclined 
 equally in the savage and in the civilised, 
 in all stages of society from the rudest to the 
 most refined, and in all its grades ; the 
 Doctor used to say they might be called 
 semi-intellectual. The uses of hunting are 
 obvious, wherever there are wild animals 
 which may be killed for food, or beasts of 
 
 * From a Masque quoted by U 1 ISRAELI. 
 
 prey which for our own security it is ex- 
 pedient to destroy. 
 
 Indeed because hunting, hawking, and 
 fishing, (all which according to Gwillim and 
 Plato are comprised in the term Venation,) 
 tend to the providing of sustenance for man, 
 Farnesius doth therefore account them all a 
 species of agriculture. The great heraldic 
 author approves of this comprehensive classi- 
 fication. But because the more heroic 
 hunting, in which danger is incurred from 
 the strength and ferocity of the animals 
 pursued, hath a resemblance of military 
 practice, he delivers his opinion that " this 
 noble kind of venation is privileged from 
 the title of an Illiberal Art, being a princely 
 and generous exercise ; and those only, who 
 use it for a trade of life, to make sure 
 thereof, are to be marshalled in the rank of 
 mechanics and illiberal artizans." The 
 Doctor admired the refinement of these 
 authors ; but he thought that neither lawful 
 sporting nor poaching could conveniently be 
 denominated agricultural pursuits. 
 
 He found it not so easy to connect the 
 love of gaming with any beneficial effect ; 
 some kind of mental emotion however, he 
 argued, was required for rendering life 
 bearable by creatures with whom sleep is 
 not so completely an act of volition, that 
 like dogs they can lie down and fall asleep 
 when they like. For those persons, therefore, 
 who are disposed either by education, 
 capacity, or inclination to make any worthier 
 exertion of their intellectual faculties, 
 gaming, though infinitely dangerous as a 
 passion, may be useful as a pastime. It has 
 indeed a strong tendency to assume a 
 dangerous type, and to induce as furious an 
 excitement as drunkenness in its most fero- 
 cious form ; but among the great card- 
 playing public of all nations, long experience 
 has produced an effect in mitigating it, 
 analogous to what the practice of inoculation 
 has effected upon the small-pox. Vaccina- 
 tion would have afforded our philosopher a 
 better illustration, if it had been brought 
 into notice during his life. 
 
 Pope has assigned to those women who 
 neither toil or spin, " an old age of cards,"
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 505 
 
 after " a youth of pleasure." This, perhaps, 
 is not now so generally the course of female 
 life, in a certain class and under certain 
 circumstances, as it was in his days and in 
 the Doctor's. The Doctor certainly was 
 of opinion that if the senescent spinsters and 
 dowagers within the circle of his little world 
 had not their cards as duly as their food, 
 many of them would have taken to some- 
 thing worse in their stead. They would 
 have sought for the excitement which they 
 now found at the whist or quadrille table 
 from the bottle, or at the Methodist Meet- 
 ing. In some way or other, spiritual or 
 spirituous, they must have had it * ; and the 
 more scandalous of these ways was not 
 always that which would occasion the 
 greatest domestic discomfort, or lead to the 
 most injurious consequences. Others would 
 have applied to him for relief from maladies 
 which, by whatever names they might be 
 called, were neither more nor less than the 
 effect of that tcedium vitce which besets those 
 who having no necessary employment have 
 not devised any for themselves. And when 
 he regarded the question in this light he 
 almost doubted whether the invention of 
 cards had not been more beneficial than in- 
 jurious to mankind. 
 
 It was not with an unkind or uncharitable 
 feeling, still less with a contemptuous one, 
 that Anne Seward mentioning the death of 
 a lady " long invalid and far advanced in 
 life," described her as " a civil social being, 
 whose care was never to offend; who had 
 the spirit of a gentlewoman in never doing 
 a mean thing, whose mite was never with- 
 held from the poor ; and whose inferiority 
 of understanding and knowledge found 
 sanctuary at the card-table, that universal 
 leveller of intellectual distinctions." Let 
 not such persons be despised in the pride of 
 intellect ! Let them not be condemned in 
 the pride of self-righteousness ! 
 
 " Our law," says the Puritan Matthew 
 Mead, " supposes all to be of some calling, 
 
 It happened during one of the lamented Southey'g 
 visits here at the Vicarage, West-Tarring, that a cargo of 
 spirits was run close by. His remark was " Better 
 spirituous smuggling than spiritual pride." 
 
 not only men but women, and the young 
 ladies too ; and therefore it calls them 
 during their virgin state spinsters. But 
 alas, the viciousness and degeneracy of this 
 age hath forfeited the title. Many can card, 
 but few can spin ; and therefore you may 
 write them carders, dancers, painters, ranters, 
 spenders, rather than spinsters. Industry is 
 worn out by pride and delicacy ; the comb 
 and the looking-glass possess the place and 
 the hours of the spindle and the distaff; and 
 their great business is to curl the locks, 
 instead of twisting wool and flax. So that 
 both males and females are prepared for all 
 ill impressions by the mischief of an idle 
 education." 
 
 " There is something strange in it," says 
 Sterne, " that life should appear so short in 
 the gross, and yet so long in the detail. 
 Misery may make it so, you'll say; but 
 we will exclude it, and still you'll find, 
 though we all complain of the shortness of life, 
 what numbers there are who seem quite over- 
 stocked with the days and hours of it, and 
 are constantly sending out into the highways 
 and streets of the city, to compel guests to 
 come in, and take it off their hands : to do 
 this with ingenuity and forecast, is not one 
 of the least arts and business of life itself; 
 and they who cannot succeed in it, carry as 
 many marks of distress about them, as 
 bankruptcy itself could wear. Be as careless 
 as we may, we shall not always have the 
 power, nor shall we always be in a temper 
 to let the account run thus. When the 
 blood is cooled, and the spirits which have 
 hurried us on through half our days before 
 we have numbered one of them, are begin- 
 ning to retire; then wisdom will press a 
 moment to be heard, afflictions, or a bed 
 of sickness will find their hours of per- 
 suasion : and should they fail, there is 
 something yet behind : old age will over- 
 take us at the last, and with its tremb'ing 
 hand, hold up the glass to us."
 
 506 
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 
 CHAPTER CXCII. 
 
 MORE OF THE DOCTOR'S PHILOSOPHY, WHICH 
 WILL AND WILL NOT BE LIKED BY THE 
 LADIES, AND SOME OF THE AUTHOR'S 
 WHICH WILL AND WILL NOT BY THE 
 GENTLEMEN. THE HEADER IS INTRO- 
 DUCED TO COUNT CASTIGLIONE, AND TO 
 SIR JOHN CHEKE. 
 
 Ou tend rauteur d cette heuref 
 Quefait-ti? Bevunt-ilt Va-t-il? Ou s'il demevre P 
 
 L'AOTEUR. 
 
 Non,je ne reviens pas, car je n'ai pas its ; 
 
 Je ne vais pas austi, car je suis arrele ; 
 
 El ne demeure point, car, tout de ce pas meme 
 
 Je pretens m'en alter. MOLIERE. 
 
 THE passage with which the preceding 
 Chapter is concluded, is extracted from 
 Sterne's Sermons, one of those discourses in 
 which he tried the experiment of adapting 
 the style of Tristram Shandy to the pulpit ; 
 an experiment which proved as unsuc- 
 cessful as it deserved to be. Gray, however, 
 thought these sermons were in the style 
 which in his opinion was most proper for 
 the pulpit, and that they showed " a very 
 strong imagination and a sensible head. 
 But you see him," he adds, " often tottering 
 on the verge of laughter, and ready to throw 
 his perriwig in the face of his audience." 
 
 The extract which has been set before the 
 reader is one of those passages which bear 
 out Gray's judgment; it is of a good kind, 
 and in its kind so good, that I would not 
 weaken its effect, by inserting too near it 
 the following Epigram from an old Maga- 
 zine, addressed to a lady passionately fond 
 of cards. 
 
 Thou, whom at length incessant gaming dubs, 
 Thrice honourable title ! Queen of Clubs, 
 Say what vast joys each winning card imparts, 
 And that, too justly, called the King of Hearts. 
 Say, when you mourn of cash and jewels spoil'd, 
 May not the thief be Knave of Diamonds stil'd ? 
 One friend, howe'er, when deep remorse invades, 
 Awaits thee. Lady ; 'tis the Ace of Spades ! 
 
 It has been seen that the Doctor looked 
 upon the love of gaming as a propensity 
 given us to counteract that indolence which, 
 if not thus amused, would breed for itself 
 both real and imaginary evils. And dancing 
 he thought was just as useful in counteract- 
 ing the factitious inactivity of women in 
 
 their youth, as cards are for occupying the 
 vacuity of their minds at a later period. Of 
 the three semi-intellectual propensities, as 
 he called them, which men are born with, 
 those for hunting and gaming are useful 
 only in proportion as the earth is uncul- 
 tivated, and those by whom it is inhabited. 
 In a well-ordered society there would be no 
 gamblers, and the Nimrods of such a society 
 must, like the heroes in Tongataboo, be con- 
 tented with no higher sport than rat- 
 catching : but dancing will still retain its 
 uses. It will always be the most graceful 
 exercise for children at an age when all that 
 they do is graceful ; and it will always be 
 that exercise which can best be regulated 
 for them, without danger of their exerting 
 themselves too much, or continuing in it too 
 long. And for young women in a certain 
 rank, or rather region of life, the tem- 
 perate zone of society, those who are 
 above the necessity of labour, and below the 
 station in which they have the command of 
 carriages and horses, that is for the great 
 majority of the middle class, it is the 
 only exercise which can animate them to 
 such animal exertion as may suffice 
 
 To give the blood its natural spring and play.* 
 
 Mr. Coleridge says (in his Table Talk) 
 " that the fondness for dancing in English 
 women is the reaction of their reserved man- 
 ners : it is the only way in which they can 
 throw themselves forth in natural liberty." 
 But the women are not more fond of 
 it in this country, than they are in France 
 and Spain. There can be no healthier 
 pastime for them, (as certainly there is 
 none so exhilarating, and exercise unless 
 it be exhilarating is rarely healthful) 
 provided, and upon this the Doctor alwavs 
 insisted, provided it be neither carried on 
 in hot rooms, nor prolonged to late hours. 
 They order these things, he used to say, 
 better in France ; they order them better 
 indeed anywhere than in England, and there 
 was a time when they were ordered better 
 among ourselves. 
 
 " The youth of this city," says the honest
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 507 
 
 old chronicler and historian of the me- 
 tropolis his native place, " used on holidays, 
 after evening prayers, to exercise their 
 basters and bucklers, at their master's doors ; 
 and the maidens, one of them playing on a 
 timbrel, to dance for garlands hanged 
 athwart the streets, which open pastimes in 
 my youth, being now suppressed, worser 
 practises within doors are to be feared." 
 
 Every one who is conversant with the 
 Middle Ages, and with the literature of the 
 reigns of Elizabeth, James and Charles I. 
 must have perceived in how much kindlier 
 n -la tions the different classes of society 
 existed toward each other in those days than 
 they have since done. The very word in- 
 dependence had hardly found a place in the 
 English language, or was known only as 
 denoting a mischievous heresy. It is indeed, 
 as one of our most thoughtful contemporaries 
 has well said, an "unscriptural word," and 
 " when applied to man, it directly con- 
 tradicts the first and supreme laws of our 
 nature ; the very essence of which is uni- 
 versal dependence upon God, and universal 
 interdependence on one another." 
 
 The Great Rebellion dislocated the rela- 
 tions which had for some centuries thus 
 happily subsisted ; and the money-getting 
 system which has long been the moving 
 principle of British society, has, aided by 
 other injurious influences, effectually pre- 
 vented the recovery which time, and the 
 sense of mutual interest, and mutual duty, 
 ini^ht otherwise have brought about. It 
 was one characteristic of those old times, 
 which in this respect deserve to be called 
 good, that the different classes participated 
 in the enjoyments of each other. There 
 were the religious spectacles, which, instead 
 of being reformed and rendered eminently 
 useful as they might have been, were de- 
 stroyed by the brutal spirit of puritanism. 
 There were the Church festivals, till that 
 same odious spirit endeavoured to separate, 
 and has gone far toward separating, all 
 festivity from religion. There were tourna- 
 ments and city pageants at which all ranks 
 were brought together ; they are now 
 brought together only upon the race-course. 
 
 Christmas Mummers have long ceased to be 
 heard of. The Morris dancers have all but 
 disappeared even in the remotest parts of 
 the kingdom. I know not whether a May- 
 pole is now to be seen. What between 
 manufactures and methodism England is no 
 longer the merry England which it was 
 once a happiness and an honour to call 
 our country. Akenside's words " To the 
 Country Gentlemen of England," may be 
 well remembered. 
 
 And yet full oft your anxious tongues complain 
 That lawless tumult prompts the rustic throng ; 
 That the rude Village-inmates now disdain 
 Those homely ties which rul'd their fathers long. 
 Alas ! your fathers did by other arts 
 Draw those kind ties around their simple hearts, 
 And led in other paths their ductile will ; 
 By succour, faithful counsel, courteous cheer, 
 Won them their ancient manners to revere, 
 To prize their country's peace and heaven's due rites 
 ful61. 
 
 My friend saw enough of this change in 
 its progress to excite in him many me- 
 lancholy forebodings in the latter part of his 
 life. He knew how much local attachment 
 was strengthened by the recollection of 
 youthful sports and old customs ; and he 
 well understood how little men can be 
 expected to love their country, who have no 
 particular affection for any part of it. 
 Holidays he knew attached people to the 
 Church, which enjoined their observance; 
 but he very much doubted whether Sunday 
 Schools would have the same effect. 
 
 In Beaumont and Fletcher's Play of the 
 Prophetess, the countrymen discourse con- 
 cerning the abdicated Emperor who has 
 come to reside among them. One says to 
 the other, 
 
 Do you think this great man will continue here ? 
 
 The answer is 
 
 Continue here? what else? he has bought the great 
 
 farm; 
 
 A great man * with a great inheritance 
 And all the ground about it, all the woods too, 
 And stock'd it like an Emperor. Now all our sports again 
 And all our merry gambols, our May Ladies, 
 Our evening dances on the green, our songs, 
 Our holiday good cheer ; our bagpipes now, boys, 
 Shall make the wanton lasses skip again, 
 Our sheep-shearings and all our knacks. 
 
 Southey has inserted a query here. " Qy Manor or 
 Mansion." It is usually printed as in the text. See 
 Act v. Sc. iii.
 
 508 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 It is said, however, in the Cortegiano ; 
 Che non saria conveniente che un gentilhuomo 
 andasse ad honorare con la persona sua una 
 festa di contado, dove i spetlatori, et i com- 
 pagnifussero gente ignobile. What follows 
 is curious to the history of manners. Disse 
 allhor il S. Gasparo Pallavicino, nel paese 
 nostro di Lombardia non ' hanno queste ris- 
 petti : anzi molti gentiV huomini giovani tro- 
 vansi, che le feste ballano tuttof di nel Sole 
 co i villani, et con esti giocano a lanciar la 
 barra, lottare, correre et saltare ; et io non 
 credo che sia male, per che ivi non si fa para- 
 gone del/a nobiltd, ma dellaforza, e destrezza, 
 nelle qnai cose spesso gli huomini di villa non 
 vaglion meno che i nobili; et par che que 
 fjuella domestichezza habbia in se una certa 
 liberalita amabile. An objection is made to 
 this ; Quel ballar nel Sole, rispose M. Fede- 
 rico, a me non piace per modo alcuno ; ne so 
 che guadagno vi si trovi. Ma chi vuol pur 
 lottar, correr et saltar co i villani, dee (al 
 parer mio) farlo in modo di provarsi, et 
 (come si suol dir) per gentilezza, nonper con- 
 tender con loro, et dee F huorno esser quasi 
 sicuro di vincere ; altramente non vi si metta ; 
 perche sta troppo male, et troppo e brutta cosa, 
 et fuor de la dignita vedere un gentilhuomo 
 vinto da un villano, et massimameide alia 
 lotto, ; perb credo io che sia ben astenersi 
 almano in presentia di molti, perche il gua- 
 dagno nel vincere e pochissimo, et la perdita 
 nelV esse vinto e grandissima. 
 
 That is, in the old version of Master 
 Thomas Hoby ; "It were not meet that a 
 gentleman should be present in person, and 
 a doer in such a matter in the country, where 
 the lookers-on and the doers were of a base 
 sort. Then said the Lord Gasper Pallavi- 
 cino, in our country of Lombardy these 
 matters are not passed upon ; for you shall 
 see there young gentlemen, upon the holy- 
 days, come dance all the day long in the sun 
 with them of the country, and pass the time 
 with them in casting the bar, in wrestling, 
 running and leaping. And I believe it is 
 not ill done ; for no comparison is there 
 made of nobleness of birth, but of force and 
 sleight ; in which things many times the men 
 of the country are not a whit inferior to gen- 
 
 tlemen : and it seemeth this familiar con- 
 versation containeth in it a certain lovely 
 freeness." " The dancing in the sun," an- 
 swered Sir Frederick, " can I in no case 
 away withal ; and I cannot see what a man 
 shall gain by it. But whoso will wrestle, 
 run and leap with men of the country, ought, 
 in my judgment, to do it after a sort ; to 
 prove himself, and (as they are wont to say) 
 for courtesy, not to try mastery with them. 
 And a man ought (in a manner) to be as- 
 sured to get the upper hand, else let him 
 not meddle withal ; for it is too ill a sight, 
 and too foul a matter, and without estima- 
 tion, to see a gentleman overcome by a carter, 
 and especially in wrestling. Therefore I be- 
 lieve it is well done to abstain from it, at the 
 leastwise in the presence of many ; if he be 
 overcome, his gain is small, and his loss in 
 being overcome very great." 
 
 This translation is remarkable for having 
 a Sonnet, or more correctly speaking a qua- 
 torzain by Sackville prefixed to it, and at 
 the end of the volume a letter of Sir John 
 Cheke's to the translator, curious for its 
 peculiar spelling, and for the opinion ex- 
 pressed in it that our language ought as 
 much as possible to be kept pure and un- 
 mixed. 
 
 " I have taken sum pain," he says, " at 
 your request, cheflie in your preface ; not in 
 the reading of it, for that was pleasaunt unto 
 me, boath for the roundnes of your saienges 
 and welspeakinges of the saam, but in chang- 
 ing certein wordes which might verie wel be 
 let aloan, but that I am verie curious in mi 
 freendes matters, not to determijn, but to 
 debaat what is best. Whearin I seek not 
 the bestnes haplie bi truth, but bi mijn own 
 phansie and sheo of goodnes. 
 
 " I am of this opinion that our own tung 
 shold be written cleane and pure, unmixt 
 and unmangeled with borowing of other 
 tunges ; wherein if we take not heed bi tijm, 
 ever borowing and never payeng, she shall 
 be fain to keep her house as bankrupt. For 
 then doth our tung naturallie and praise- 
 ablie utter her meaning, when she boroweth 
 no conterfectness of other tunges to attire 
 her self withall, but useth plainlie her own
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 509 
 
 with such shift as nature, craft, experiens, 
 and folowing of other excellent doth lead 
 her unto ; and if she went at ani tijm (as 
 being unperfight she must) yet let her borow 
 with suche bashfulnes, that it mai appear, 
 that if either the mould of our own tung 
 could serve us to fascion a woord of our own, 
 or if the old denisoned wordes could content 
 and ease this neede, we wold not boldly 
 venture of unknoven wordes. This I say, 
 not for reproof of you, who have scarslie and 
 necessarily used, whear occasion serveth, a 
 strange word so, as it seemeth to grow out 
 of the matter and not to be sought for ; but 
 for mijn our defens, who might be counted 
 overstraight a deemer of thinges, if I gave 
 not thys accompt to you, myfreend and wijs, 
 of mi marring this your handiwork. 
 
 " But I am called awai. I prai you pardon 
 mi shortnes ; the rest of my saienges should 
 be but praise and exhortacion in this your 
 doinges, which at moar leisor I shold do 
 better. 
 
 From my house in Wood street 
 the 16 of July 1557. 
 
 Yours assured 
 
 JOAN CHEEK." 
 
 Sir John Cheke died about two months 
 after the date of this letter : and Hoby's 
 translation was not published till 1561, be- 
 cause " there were certain places in it, 
 which of late years being misliked of some 
 that had the perusing of it, the Author 
 thought it much better to keep it in dark- 
 ness a while, then to put it in light, unper- 
 fect, and in piecemeal, to serve the time." 
 The book itself had been put in the list of 
 prohibited works, and it was not till 1576 
 that the Conte Camillo Castiglione, the au- 
 thor's son, obtained permission to amend the 
 obnoxious passages and publish an expur- 
 gated edition. 
 
 It would have vexed Sir John if he had 
 seen with how little care the printer, and 
 his loving friend Master Hoby observed his 
 system of orthography, in this letter. For 
 he never used the final e unless when it is 
 sounded, which he denoted then by doubling 
 it ; he rejected the y, wrote u when it was 
 
 long, with a long stroke over it, doubled the 
 other vowels when they were long, and 
 threw out all letters that were not pro- 
 nounced. No better system of the kind has 
 been proposed, and many worse. Little 
 good would have been done by its adoption, 
 and much evil, if the translators of the Bible 
 had been required to proceed upon his 
 principle of using no words but such as were 
 true English of Saxon original. His dislike 
 of the translation for corrupting as he thought 
 the language into vocables of foreign growth, 
 made him begin to translate the New Testa- 
 ment in his own way. The Manuscript in 
 his own hand, as far as it had proceeded, is 
 still preserved at Bene't College*, and it 
 shows that he found it impracticable to ob- 
 serve his own rule. But though as a pre- 
 cisian he would have cramped and im- 
 poverished the language, he has been praised 
 for introducing a short and expressive style, 
 avoiding long and intricate periods, and for 
 bringing " fair and graceful writing into 
 vogue." He wrote an excellent hand him- 
 self, and it is said that all the best scholars 
 in those times followed his example, "so that 
 fair writing and good learning seemed to 
 commence together." 
 
 O Soul of Sir John Cheke, thou wouldst 
 have led me out of my way, if that had been 
 possible, if my ubiety did not so nearly re- 
 semble ubiquity, that in Anywhereness and 
 Everywhereness I know where I am, and 
 can never be lost till I get out of Whereness 
 itself into Nowhere. 
 
 This has been since printed with a good Glossary by 
 the Rev. James Goodwin, Fellow and Tutor of Corpus 
 Christ! Coll. Cambridge, and is very curious. All that 
 remains is tlie Gospel according to St. Matthew, and part 
 of the first chapter of the Gospel according to St. Mark. 
 As an instance of Cheke's Englishisms I may refer to the 
 rendering of TJIXT^XWTW in c. xxiii. v. 15. by Jreschman. 
 Some little of the MS. is lost. See Preface, p. 10.
 
 510 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 CHAPTER CXCni. 
 
 MASTER THOMAS MACE, AND THE TWO HIS- 
 TORIANS OF HIS SCIENCE, SIB JOHN HAW- 
 KINS AND DR. BURNET. SOME ACCOUNT 
 OF THE OLD LUTANIST AND OF HI8 
 " MUSIC'S MONUMENT." 
 
 This Man of Music hath more in his head 
 Than mere crotchets. SIR W. DAVBNANT. 
 
 THOU wast informed, gentle Reader, in the 
 third Volume, and at the two hundred and 
 sixth* page of this much-hereafter-to-be- 
 esteemed Opus, that a Tattle de Moy was a 
 new-fashioned thing in the Year of our 
 Lord 1676. This was on the authority of 
 the good old Lutanist, whom, I then told 
 you, I took leave of but for awhile, bethink- 
 ing me of Pope's well-known lines, 
 
 But all our praises why should Lords engross ? 
 Rise, honest Muse ! and sing the MAN OF Ross. 
 
 And now, gentle reader, seeing that 
 whether with a consciousness of second sight 
 or not, Master Mace, praiseworthy as the 
 Man of Ross, has so clearly typified my 
 Preludes and Voluntaries, my grave Pavines 
 and graver Galliards, my Corantoes and 
 Serabands, my Chichonas, and above all my 
 Tattle-de-Moys, am I not bound in grati- 
 tude to revive the memory of Master Mace ; 
 or rather to extend it and make him more 
 fully and more generally known than he has 
 been made by the two historians of his 
 science Sir John Hawkins and Dr. Burney ? 
 It is to the honour of both these eminent 
 men, who have rendered such good services 
 to that science, and to the literature of their 
 country, that they should have relished the 
 peculiarities of this simple-hearted old lu- 
 tanist. But it might have been expected 
 from both ; for Dr. Burney was as simple- 
 hearted himself, and as earnestly devoted to 
 the art: and Sir John, who delighted in 
 Ignoramus and in Izaak Walton, could not 
 fail to have a liking for Thomas Mace. 
 
 " Under whom he was educated," says Sir 
 John, " or by what means he became pos- 
 sessed of so much skill in the science of 
 
 P. 213. of this Edition. 
 
 music, as to be able to furnish out matter 
 for a folio volume, he has nowhere informed 
 us ; nevertheless his book contains so many 
 particulars respecting himself, and so many 
 traits of an original and singular character, 
 that a very good judgment may be formed 
 both of his temper and ability. With regard 
 to the first, he appears to have been an 
 enthusiastic lover of his art ; of a very de- 
 vout and serious turn of mind; and cheer- 
 ful and good-humoured under the infirmities 
 of age, and the pressure of misfortunes. 
 As to the latter his knowledge of music 
 seems to have been confined to the practice 
 of his own instrument ; and so much of the 
 principles of the science as enabled him to 
 compose for it ; but for his style in writing 
 he certainly never had his fellow." 
 
 Thi? is not strictly just as relating either 
 to his proficiency in music, or his style as an 
 author. Mace says of himself, " having said 
 so much concerning the lute, as also taken 
 so much pains in laying open all the hidden 
 secrets thereof, it may be thought I am so 
 great a lover of it, that I make light esteem 
 of any other instrument besides ; which 
 truly I do not ; but love the viol in a very 
 high degree ; yea close unto the lute ; and 
 have done much more, and made very many 
 more good and able proficients upon it, than 
 ever I have done upon the lute. And this 
 I shall presume to say, that if I excel in 
 either, it is most certainly upon the viol. 
 And as to other instruments, I can as truly 
 say, I value every one that is in use, ac- 
 cording to its due place ; as knowing and 
 often saying, that all God's creatures are 
 good ; and all ingenuities done by man, are 
 signs, tokens, and testimonies of the wisdom 
 of God bestowed upon man." 
 
 So also though it is true that Thomas 
 Mace stands distinguished among the writers 
 on Music, yet it could be easy to find many 
 fellows for him as far as regards peculiarity 
 of style. A humourist who should collect 
 odd books might form as numerous a library, 
 as the man of fastidious taste who should 
 confine his collection to such works only as 
 in their respective languages were esteemed 
 classical. " The singularity of his style,"
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 fiil 
 
 says Sir John, " remarkable for a profusion 
 of epithets and words of his own invention, 
 and tautology without end, is apt to disgust 
 such as attend less to the matter than 
 manner of his book ; but in others it has a 
 different effect ; as it exhibits, without the 
 least reserve, all the particulars of the 
 author's character, which was not less ami- 
 able than singular." " The vein of humour 
 that runs through it presents a lively por- 
 traiture of a good-natured, gossipping old 
 man, virtuous and kind-hearted." The 
 anxious "precision with which he constantly 
 delivers himself, is not more remarkable 
 than his eager desire to communicate to 
 others all the knowledge he was possessed 
 of, even to the most hidden secrets." 
 " The book breathes throughout a spirit of 
 devotion ; and, agreeable to his sentiments 
 of music is a kind of proof that his temper 
 was improved by the exercise of his pro- 
 fession." There is no pursuit by which, if 
 it be harmless in itself, a man may not be 
 improved in his moral as well as in his 
 intellectual nature, provided it be followed 
 for its own sake : but most assuredly there 
 is none however intrinsically good, or bene- 
 ficial to mankind, from which he can desire 
 any moral improvement, if his motive be 
 either worldly ambition, or the love of gain. 
 'ASvvaTov e <f>av\q<; dtyopfjirig tirl rb re'Xof 
 fvepafiiiv.* 
 
 To give an account of " Music's Monu- 
 ment," which Dr. Burney calls a matchless 
 book, not to be forgotten among the curio- 
 sities of the seventeenth century ! will be to 
 give the character of Thomas Mace himself, 
 for no author ever more compleatly em- 
 bodied his own spirit in his writings. 
 
 It is introduced with an Epistle Dedica- 
 tory, which by an easy misrepresentation 
 has been made to appear profane. 
 
 To Thee, One-Only-Oneness, I direct 
 
 My weak desires and works. 
 
 Thou only art The Able True Protector ; 
 
 Oh be my shield, defender and director, 
 
 Then sure we shall be safe. 
 
 Thou know'st, O Searcher of all hearts how I, 
 
 V'ith riglit, downright, sincere sincerity. 
 
 Have longed long to do some little good, 
 
 (According to the best 1 understood) 
 
 IAMBLICHUS. 
 
 With thy rich talent, though by me made poor, 
 For which I grieve, and will do so no more, 
 By thy good Grace assisting, which I do 
 Most humbly beg for. Oh, adjoin it to 
 My longing ardent soul : and have respect 
 To this my weak endeavour, and accept, 
 In thy great mercy, both of it and me, 
 Even a we dedicate ourselves to Thee. 
 
 An Epistle, in verse, follows, "to all 
 Divine Readers, especially those of the 
 Dissenting Ministry, or Clergy, who want 
 not only skill, but good will to this most 
 excelling part of divine service, viz. singing 
 of psalms, hymns and spiritual songs, to the 
 praise of the Almighty, in the public As- 
 semblies of his Saints : and yet more par- 
 ticularly, to all great and high Persons, 
 Supervisors, Masters, or Governors of the 
 Church, (if any such there should be,) 
 wanting skill, or good will thereunto." 
 
 He says to those " high men of honour," 
 that 
 
 Example is the thing ; 
 
 There's but one way, which is yourselves to sing. 
 This sure will do it ; for when the vulgar see 
 Such worthy presidents their leaders be, 
 Who exercise therein and lead the van, 
 They will be brought to't, do they what they can. 
 But otherwise for want of such example, 
 Tis meanly valued, and on it they trample ; 
 And by that great defect, so long unsought, 
 Our best Church Music's well-uigh brought to nought. 
 
 Besides, 
 
 No robes adorn high persons like to it ; 
 No ornaments for pure Divines more fit. 
 
 That Counsel given by the Apostle Paul 
 Does certainly extend to Christians all. 
 Cnlossians the third, the sixteenth verse ; 
 (Turn to the place :) that text will thus rehearse, 
 Let the word of Christ dwell in you plenteously, 
 (What follows ? Music in its excellency.) 
 Admonishing yourselves, in sweet accord, 
 In singing psalms with grace unto the Lord, 
 Sed sine arle, that cannot be done, 
 / sine arte, better let alone. 
 
 Having thus " fronted this Book with the 
 divine part, and preached his little short 
 sermon" upon the last of St. Paul, he says 
 that his first and chief design in writing 
 this book was only to discover the occult 
 mysteries of the noble lute, and to shew the 
 great worthiness of that too much neglected 
 and abused instrument, and his good will to 
 all the true lovers of it, in making it plain 
 and easy, giving the true reasons why it has 
 been formerly a very hard instrument to 
 play well upon, and also why now it is
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 become so easy and familiarly pleasant. 
 " And I believe," says he, " that whosoever 
 will but trouble himself to read those reasons, 
 and join his own reason, with the reason- 
 ableness of those reasons, will not be able 
 to find the least reason to contradict those 
 reasons." 
 
 He professed that by his directions " any 
 person, young or old, should be able to per- 
 form so much and so well upon it, in so 
 much or so little time, towards a full and 
 satisfactory delight and pleasure, (yea, if it 
 were but only to play common toys, jigs or 
 tunes,) as upon any instrument whatever ; 
 yet with this most notable and admirable 
 exception, (for the respectable commenda- 
 tion of the lute,) that they may, besides 
 such ordinary and common contentments, 
 study and practice it all the days of their 
 lives, and yet find new improvements, yea 
 doubtless if they should live unto the age 
 of Methusalem, ten times over ; for there is 
 no limitation to its vast bounds and bravery." 
 It appears that the merit of this book in 
 this respect is not overstated : one of his sons 
 attained to great proficiency on this instru- 
 ment by studying the book without any 
 assistance from his father ; and Sir John 
 Hawkins affirms on his own knowledge that 
 Mr. John Immyns, lutanist to the Chapel 
 Royal, has the like experience of it. " This 
 person who had practised on sundry instru- 
 ments for many years, and was able to sing 
 his part at sight, at the age of forty took to 
 the lute, and by the help of Mace's book 
 alone, became enabled to play thorough 
 base, and also easy lessons on it ; and by 
 practice had rendered the tablature as fami- 
 liar to him, as the notes of the scale." 
 
 The notation called the tablature is mi- 
 nutely explained in the work. It has not the 
 least relation to the musical character ; the 
 six strings of the lute are represented by as 
 many lines, " and the several frets or stops 
 by the letters a, b, c, d, e, f, g, h, y, (a 
 preference to i as being more conspicuous,) 
 k ; the letter a ever signifying the open 
 string in all positions." Many persons have 
 been good performers on the lute, and at 
 the same time totally ignorant of the notes 
 
 of the Gamut. His printer, he said, " had 
 outdone all music work in this kind ever 
 before printed in this nation ; and was 
 indeed the only fit person to do the like, lie 
 only having those new materials, the like to 
 which was never had made before in Eng- 
 land." They might have been more distinct, 
 and more consistent; five being common 
 English characters, the c more resembling 
 the third letter in the Greek alphabet than 
 any thing else, the b reversed serving for g, 
 and the d in like manner for e. 
 
 The characters for the time of notes he 
 compares to money, as supposing that most 
 people would be ready enough to count 
 them the better for that. Considering 
 therefore the semi-breve as a groat, the 
 minim becomes two pence, the crotchet a 
 penny, the quaver a half-penny, and the 
 semi-quaver a farthing. "Trouble not your- 
 self for the demi-quaver," he says, " till you 
 have a quick hand, it being half a semi- 
 quaver." 
 
 But besides these, there are marks in his 
 notation for the fifteen graces which may be 
 used upon the lute, though few or none used 
 them all. They are the Shake, the Beat, 
 the Back-fall, the Half^fall, the Whole-fall, 
 the Elevation, the Single Relish, the Double 
 Relish, the Slur, the Slide, the Spinger, the 
 Sting, the Tutt, the Pause and the Soft and 
 Loud Play, " which is as great and good a 
 grace as any other whatever." 
 
 " Some," says Master Mace, " there are, 
 and many I have met with, who have such a 
 natural agility in their nerves, and aptitude 
 to that performance, that before they could 
 do any thing else to purpose, they would 
 make a shake rarely well. And some again 
 can scarcely ever gain a good shake, by 
 reason of the unaptness of their nerves to 
 that action, but yet otherwise come to play 
 very well. I, for my own part, have had 
 occasion to break both my arms ; by reason 
 of which, I cannot make the nerve-shake 
 well, nor strong ; yet by a certain motion of 
 my arm, I have gained such a contentive 
 shake, that sometimes my scholars will ask 
 me, how they shall do to get the like. I 
 have then no better answer for them, than
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 513 
 
 to tell them, they must first break their 
 arm, as I have done ; and so possibly after 
 that, by practice, they may get my manner 
 of Shake." 
 
 Rules are given for all these graces, but 
 observe, he says, " that whatever your grace 
 be, you must in your farewell express the 
 true note perfectly, or else your pretended 
 grace, will prove a disgrace." 
 
 " The Spinger is a grace very neat and 
 curious, for some sort of notes, and is done 
 thus : After you have hit your note, you 
 must just as you intend to part with it, dab 
 one of your rest fingers lightly upon the 
 same string, a fret or two frets below, (ac- 
 cording to the air,) as if you did intend to 
 stop the string, in that place, yet so gently, 
 that you do not cause the string to sound, 
 in that stop, so dab'd ; but only so that it 
 may suddenly take away that sound which 
 you last struck, yet give some small tincture 
 of a new note, but not distinctly to be heard 
 as a note ; which grace, if well done and 
 properly, is very taking and pleasant." 
 
 The Sting is " another very neat and 
 pretty grace," it makes the sound seem to 
 swell with pretty unexpected humour, and 
 gives much contentment upon cases. 
 
 The Tut is easily done, and always with 
 the right hand. " When you would perform 
 this grace, it is but to strike your letter 
 which you intend shall be so graced, with 
 one of your fingers, and immediately clap 
 on your next striking finger upon the string 
 which you struck; in which doing, you 
 suddenly take away the sound of the letter ; 
 and if you do it clearly, it will seem to speak 
 the word, Tut, so plainly, as if it were a 
 living creature, speakable ! " 
 
 While, however, the pupil was intent upon 
 exhibiting these graces, the zealous master 
 exhorted him not to be unmindful of his 
 own, but to regard his postures, for a good 
 posture is comely, creditable and praise- 
 worthy, and moreover advantageous as to 
 good performance. " Set yourself down 
 against a table, in as becoming a posture, as 
 you would choose to do for your best repu- 
 tation. Sit upright and straight ; then take 
 up your lute, and lay the body of it in your 
 
 lap across. Let the lower part of it lie 
 upon your right thigh, the head erected 
 against your left shoulder and ear ; lay your 
 left hand down upon the table, and your 
 right arm over the lute, so that you may set 
 your little finger down upon the belly of the 
 lute, just under the bridge, against the 
 treble, or second string : and then keep 
 your lute stiff, and strongly set with its 
 lower edge against the table-edge ; and so, 
 leaning your breast something hard against 
 its ribs, cause it to stand steady and strong, 
 so that a bystander cannot easily draw it from 
 your breast, table, and arm. This is the most 
 becoming, steady and beneficial posture." 
 
 "Your left hand thus upon the table, 
 your lute firmly fixed, yourself and it in your 
 true postures, bring up your left hand 
 from the table, bended, just like the balance 
 of a hook, all excepting your thumb, which 
 must stand straight and span'd out; your 
 fingers also, all divided out from the other 
 in an equal and handsome order ; and in 
 this posture, place your thumb under the 
 neck of the lute, a little above the fret, just 
 in the midst of the breadth of the neck ; all 
 your four-fingers in this posture, being held 
 close over the strings on the other side, so 
 that each finger may be in a readiness to 
 stop down upon any fret. And now in this 
 lively and exact posture, I would have your 
 posture drawn, which is the most becoming 
 posture I can direct unto for a lutanist." 
 
 " Know that an old lute is better than a 
 new one." Old instruments indeed are 
 found by experience to be far the best, the 
 reasons for which Master Mace could no 
 further dive into than to say, he appre- 
 hended, "that by extreme age, the wood 
 and those other adjuncts, glue, parchment, 
 paper, linings of cloth, (as some used,) but 
 above all the varnish, are by time very 
 much dried, limped, made gentle, rarified, 
 or to say better, even airified ; so that that 
 stiffness, stubbornness, or clunguiness which 
 is natural to such bodies, are so debilitated 
 and made pliable, that the pores of the wood 
 have a more free liberty to move, stir or 
 secretly vibrate ; by which means the air, 
 (which is the life of all things both animate
 
 514 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 and inanimate,) has a more free and easy 
 recourse to pass and repass, &c. Whether 
 I have hit upon the right cause I know not, 
 but sure I am that age adds goodness to 
 instruments." 
 
 The Venice lutes were commonly good; 
 and the most esteemed maker was Laux 
 Malles, whose name was always written in 
 text letters. Mace had seen two of his lutes, 
 "pitiful, old, battered, cracked things;" yet 
 for one of these, which Mr. Gootiere the 
 famous lutanist in his time showed him, the 
 King paid an hundred pounds. The other 
 belonged to Mr. Edward Jones, one of 
 Gootiere's scholars ; and he relates this 
 " true story " of it ; that a merchant bar- 
 gained with the owner to take it with him 
 in his travels, on trial ; if he liked it, he was 
 on his return to give an hundred pounds for 
 it ; otherwise he was to return it safe, and 
 pay twenty pounds " for his experience and 
 use of it." He had often seen lutes of three 
 or four pounds a-piece " more illustrious and 
 taking to a common eye." 
 
 The best shape was the Pearl mould, both 
 for sound and comeliness, and convenience 
 in holding. The best wood for the ribs was 
 what he calls air-wood, this was absolutely 
 the best ; English maple next. There were 
 very good ones, however, of plum, pear, yew, 
 rosemary-air, and ash. Ebony and ivory, 
 though most costly and taking to a common 
 eye, were the -worst. For the belly the 
 finest grained wood was required, free from 
 knots or obstructions ; cypress was very 
 good, but the best was called Cullen's-cliff, 
 being no other than the finest sort of fir, 
 and the choicest part of that fir. To try 
 whether the bars within, to strengthen and 
 keep it straight and tight, were all fast, you 
 were gently to knock the belly all along, 
 round about, and then in the midst, with 
 one of your knuckles ; " if any thing be 
 either loose in it, or about it, you may easily 
 perceive it, by a little fuzzing or hizzing ; 
 but if all be sound, you shall hear nothing 
 but a tight plump and twanking knock." 
 
 Among the aspersions against the lute 
 which Master Mace indignantly repelled, 
 one was that it cost as much in keeping 
 
 as a horse. "I do confess," said he, "that 
 those who will be prodigal and extraordinary 
 curious, may spend as much as may main- 
 tain two or three horses, and men to ride 
 upon them too if they please. But he never 
 charged more than ten shillings for first 
 stringing one, and five shillings a quarter 
 for maintaining it with strings." 
 
 The strings were of three sorts, minikins, 
 Venice Catlins, and Lyons, for the basse.- ; 
 but the very best for the basses were called 
 Pistoy Basses ; these, which were smooth 
 and well-twisted strings, but hard to come 
 by, he supposes to be none others than thick 
 Venice Catlins, and commonly dyed of a 
 deep dark red. The red strings, however, 
 were commonly rotten, so were the yellow ; 
 the green sometimes very good ; the clear 
 blue the best. But good strings might be 
 spoilt in a quarter of an hour, if they were 
 exposed to any wet, or moist air. Therefore 
 they were to be bound close together, and 
 wrapt closely up either in an oiled paper, 
 a bladder, or a piece of sere cloth, " such as 
 often comes over with them," and then to 
 be kept in some close box, or cupboard, but 
 not amongst linen, (for that gives moisture,) 
 and in a room where is usually a fire. And 
 when at any time you open them for your use, 
 take heed they lie not too long open, nor in a 
 dark window, nor moist place ; for moisture 
 is the worst enemy to your strings. 
 
 " How to choose and find a true string, 
 which is the most curious piece of skill in 
 stringing, is both a pretty curiosity to do, 
 and also necessary. First, draw out a 
 length, or more ; then take the end, and 
 measure the length it must be of, within an 
 inch or two, (for it will stretch so much at 
 least in the winding up,) and hold that 
 length in both hands, extended to reasonable 
 stiffness : then, with one of your fingers 
 strike it ; giving it so much liberty in slack- 
 ness as you may see it vibrate, or open 
 itself. If it be true, it will appear to the 
 eye just as if they were two strings ; but 
 if it shows more than two, it is false, and 
 will sound unpleasantly upon your instru- 
 ment, nor will it ever be well in tune, either 
 stopt or open, but snarl." Sir John Hawkins
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 515 
 
 observes that this direction is given by 
 Adrian Le Hoy in his instructions for the 
 lute, and is adopted both by Mersennus and 
 Kircher. Indeed this experiment is the 
 only known test of a true string, and for 
 that reason is practised by such as are 
 curious at this day. 
 
 In his directions for playing, Master Mace 
 says, " take notice that you strike not your 
 strings with your nails, as some do, who 
 maintain it the best way of play ; but I do 
 not ; and for this reason ; because the nail 
 cannot draw so sweet a sound from the lute 
 as the nibble end of the flesh can do. I con- 
 fess in a concert it might do well enough, 
 where the mellowness, (which is the most 
 excellent satisfaction from a lute,) is lost in 
 the crowd ; but alone, I could never re- 
 ceive so good content from the nail as from 
 the flesh." 
 
 Mace considered it to be absolutely neces- 
 sary that all persons who kept lutes should 
 know how to repair them ; for he had known 
 a lute " sent fifty or sixty miles to be mended of 
 a very small mischance, (scarce worth twelve 
 pence for the mending,) which besides the 
 trouble and cost of carriage, had been 
 broken all to pieces in the return, and so 
 farewell lute and all the cost." One of the 
 necessary tools for this work is "a little 
 working knife, such as are most commonly 
 made of pieces of broken good blades, 
 fastened into a pretty thick haft of wood or 
 bone, leaving the blade out about two or 
 three inches;" "grind it down upon the 
 back," he says, " to a sharp point, and set to 
 a good edge ; it will serve you for many 
 good uses, either in cutting, carving, making 
 pins, &c." 
 
 His directions for this work are exceed- 
 ingly minute ; but when the lute was in 
 order, it was of no slight importance to keep 
 it so, and for this also he offers some choice 
 observations. "You shall do well, ever 
 when you lay it by in the day-time, to put 
 it into a bed that is constantly used, be- 
 tween the rug and blanket, but never be- 
 tween the sheets, because they may be 
 moist." "This is the most absolute and 
 best place to keep it in always." There are 
 
 many great commodities in so doing ; it will 
 save your strings from breaking, it will keep 
 your lute in good order, so that you shall 
 have but small trouble in tuning it ; it will 
 sound more brisk and lively, and give you 
 pleasure in the very handling of it ; if you 
 have any occasion extraordinary to set up 
 your lute at a higher pitch, you may do it 
 safely, which otherwise you cannot so well 
 do, without danger to your instrument and 
 strings : it will be a great safety to your 
 instrument, in keeping it from decay, it will 
 prevent much trouble in keeping the bars from 
 flying loose and the belly from sinking : and 
 these six conveniences considered all together, 
 must needs create a seventh, which is, that 
 lute-playing must certainly be very much fa- 
 cilitated, and made more delightful thereby. 
 Only no person must be so inconsiderate as 
 to tumble down upon the bed whilst the 
 lute is there, for I have known," said 
 he, " several good lutes spoilt with such a 
 trick." 
 
 I will not say of the reader, who after the 
 foregoing specimens of Music's Monument 
 has no liking for Master Mace and his book, 
 that he 
 
 Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoil, 
 but I cannot but suspect that he has no taste 
 for caviare, dislikes laver, would as willingly 
 drink new hock as old, and more willingly 
 the base compound which passes for cham- 
 pagne, than either. Nay I could even sus- 
 pect that he does not love those "three 
 things which persons loving, love what they 
 ought, the whistling of the wind, the 
 dashing of the waves, and the rolling of 
 thunder : " and that he comes under the 
 eommination of this other triad, " let no one 
 love such as dislike the scent of cloves, the 
 taste of milk, and the song of birds." My 
 Welsh friends shall have the pleasure of 
 reading these true sayings, in their own an- 
 cient, venerable, and rich language. 
 
 Tri dyn o garu tri pheth a garant a ddy- 
 laint; gorddyan y gwgnt, boran y tbnau, ac 
 angerdd y daran. 
 
 Tri pheth ma chared neb a 'M hanghara : 
 rhogleu y meillion, bids llaeth, a chdn adar.
 
 516 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 CHAPTER CXCIV. 
 
 A MUSIC LESSON FROM MASTER THOMAS 
 
 MACE TO BE PLAYED BT LADY FAIR : 
 
 A STORY, THAN WHICH THERE IS NONE 
 PRETTIER IN THE HISTORY OF MUSIC. 
 
 What shall I say ? Or shall I say no more ? 
 
 I must go on ! I'm brim-full, running o'er. 
 
 But yet Pll hold, because I judge ye wise ; 
 
 And few words unto such may well suffice. 
 
 But much much more than this I could declare ; 
 
 Yet for some certain reasons I'll forbear. 
 
 But less than this I could not say ; because, 
 
 If saying less, I should neglect my cause, 
 
 For 'tis the Doctor's cause I plead so strong for, 
 
 And 'tis his cause compleated that I long for, 
 
 And 'tis true doctrine certainly I preach, 
 
 And 'tis that doctrine every priest should teach. 
 
 THOMAS MACE, TO ALL DIVINE READERS. 
 
 O LADY fair, before we say, 
 
 Now cease my lute ; this is the last 
 Labour that thou and I shall waste, 
 And ended is that we begun ; 
 My lute be still, for I have done : * 
 
 before we say this, O Lady fair, play I pray 
 you the following lesson by good Master 
 Mace. It will put you in tune for the story 
 " not impertinent " concerning it, which he 
 thought fit to relate, although, he said, many 
 might choose to smile at it. You may thank 
 Sir John Hawkins for having rendered it 
 from tablature into the characters of musical 
 notation. 
 
 SIR THOMAS WYAT. 
 
 " This Lesson," says Master Mace, " I 
 call my Mistress, and I shall not think it 
 impertinent to detain you here a little longer 
 than ordinary in speaking something of it, 
 the occasion of it, and why I give it that 
 name. And I doubt not, but the relation I 
 shall give may conduce to your advantage 
 in several respects, but chiefly in respect of 
 Invention. 
 
 " You must first know, That it is a lesson, 
 though old ; yet I never knew it disrelished 
 by any, nor is there any one lesson in this 
 Book of that age, as it is ; yet I do esteem it 
 (in its kind) with the best Lesson in the 
 Book, for several good reasons, which I shall 
 here set down. 
 
 " It is, this very winter, just forty years 
 since I made it and yet it is new, because 
 all like it, and then when I was past being 
 a suitor to my best beloved, dearest, and 
 sweetest living Mistress, but not married, 
 yet contriving the best, and readiest way to- 
 wards it ; And thus it was, 
 
 "That very night, in which I was thus 
 agitated in my mind concerning her, my 
 living Mistress, she being in Yorkshire, 
 and myself at Cambridge, close shut up in 
 my chamber, still and quiet, about ten or 
 eleven o'clock at night, musing and writing 
 letters to her, her Mother, and 
 some other Friends, in sum- 
 ming up and determining the 
 whole matter concerning our 
 Marriage. You may conceive 
 I might have very intent 
 thoughts all that time, and 
 might meet with some difficul- 
 ties, for as yet I had not gained 
 her Mother's consent, so that 
 in my writings I was sometimes 
 put to my studyings. At which 
 times, my Lute lying xipon my 
 table, I sometimes took it up, 
 and walked about my chamber, 
 letting my fancy drive which 
 way it would, (for I studied 
 nothing, at. that time, as to 
 Music,) yet my secret genius 
 or fancy prompted my fingers, 
 do what I could, into this very
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 517 
 
 humour. So that every time I walked, and 
 took up my Lute, in the interim, betwixt 
 writing and studying, this Air would needs 
 offer itself unto me continually ; insomuch 
 that, at the last, (liking it well, and lest it 
 should be lost,) I took paper and set it 
 down, taking no further notice of it at that 
 time. But afterwards it passed abroad for a 
 very pleasant and delightful Air amongst all. 
 Yet I gave it no name till a long time after, 
 nor taking more notice of it, in any parti- 
 cular kind, than of any other my Compo- 
 sures of that nature. 
 
 "But after I was married, and had brought 
 my wife home to Cambridge, it so fell out 
 that one rainy morning I stay'd within, 
 and in my chamber my wife and I were all 
 alone, she intent upon her needlework, and 
 I playing upon my Lute, at the table by her. 
 She sat very still and quiet, listening to all 
 I played without a word a long time, till at 
 last, I hapned to play this lesson ; which, so 
 soon as I had once played, she earnestly de- 
 sired me to play it again, 'for,' said she, 
 ' That shall be called my Lesson.' 
 
 " From which words, so spoken, with em- 
 phasis and accent, it presently came into my 
 remembrance, the time when, and the occa- 
 sion of its being produced, and I returned 
 her this answer, viz., That it may very pro- 
 perly be called your Lesson, for when I 
 composed it you were wholly in my fancy, and 
 the chief object and ruler of my thoughts ; 
 telling her how, and when it was made. 
 And therefore, ever after, I thus called it 
 MY MISTRESS, and most of my scholars since 
 call it MRS. MACE, to this day. 
 
 " Thus I have detained you, (I hope not 
 too long,) with this short relation ; nor 
 should I have been so seemingly vain, as to 
 have inserted it, but that I have an intended 
 purpose by it, to give some advantage to the 
 reader, and doubt not but to do it to those 
 who will rightly consider what here I shall 
 further set down concerning it. 
 
 " Now in reference to the occasion of it, 
 &c. It is worth taking notice, That there 
 are times and particular seasons, in which the 
 ablest Master of his Art shall not be able to 
 command his Invention or produce things so 
 
 to his content or liking, as he shall at other 
 times ; but he shall be (as it were) stupid, 
 dull, and shut up, as to any neat, spruce, or 
 curious Invention. 
 
 " But again, at other times, he will have 
 Inventions come flowing in upon him, with 
 so much ease and freedom, that his greatest 
 trouble will be to retain, remember, or set 
 them down, in good order. 
 
 " Yet more particularly, as to the occasion 
 of this Lesson, I would have you take notice, 
 that as it was at such a time, when I was 
 wholly and intimately possessed with the 
 true and perfect idea of my living Mistress, 
 who was at that time lovely > fair, comely, 
 sweet, debonair, uniformly-neat, and every 
 way compleat ; how could, possibly, my 
 fancy run upon anything at that time, but 
 upon the very simile, form, or likeness, of 
 the same substantial thing ? 
 
 " And that this Lesson doth represent, 
 and shadow forth such a true relation, as 
 here I have made, I desire you to take 
 notice of it, in every particular ; which I 
 assure myself may be of benefit to any, who 
 shall observe it well. 
 
 " First, therefore, observe the two first 
 Bars of it, which will give you the Fugue ; 
 which Fugue is maintained quite through 
 the whole lesson. 
 
 " Secondly, observe the Form, and Shape 
 of the whole lesson, which consists of two 
 uniform, and equal strains ; both strains 
 having the same number of Bars. 
 
 "Thirdly, observe the humour of it; 
 which you may perceive (by the marks and 
 directions) is not common. 
 
 " These three terms, or things, ought to 
 be considered in all compositions, and per- 
 formances of this nature, viz. Ayres, or the 
 like. 
 
 "The Fugue is lively, ayrey,neat, curious, 
 and sweet, like my Mistress. 
 
 "The Form is uniform, comely, sub- 
 stantial, grave, and lovely, like my Mistress. 
 
 "The humour is singularly spruce, ami- 
 able, pleasant, obliging, and innocent, like 
 my Mistress. 
 
 "This relation to some may seem odd, 
 strange, humorous, and impertinent; but to
 
 518 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 others (I presume) it may be intelligible 
 and useful ; in that I know, by good ex- 
 perience, that in Music, all these significa- 
 tions, (and vastly many more,) may, by an 
 experienced and understanding Artist, be 
 clearly, and most significantly expressed ; yea, 
 even as by language itself, if not much more 
 effectually. And also, in that I know, that 
 as a person is affected or disposed in his 
 temper, or humour, by reason of what object 
 of his mind soever, he shall at that time 
 produce matter, (if he be put to it,) answer- 
 able to that temper, disposition, or humour, 
 in which he is. 
 
 " Therefore I would give this as a caveat, 
 or caution, to any, who do attempt to ex- 
 ercise their fancies in such matters of 
 Invention, that they observe times, and 
 seasons, and never force themselves to any- 
 thing, when they perceive an 
 indisposition; but wait for a 
 fitter, and more hopeful sea- 
 son, for what comes most com- 
 pleatly, comes most familiarly, 
 naturally, and easily, without 
 pumping for, as we use to say. 
 
 " Strive therefore to be in a 
 good, cheerful, and pleasant 
 humour always when you 
 would compose or invent, and 
 then, such will your produc- 
 tions be ; or, to say better, 
 chuse for your time of Study, 
 and Invention, if you may, 
 that time wherein you are so 
 disposed, as I have declared. 
 And doubtless, as it is in the 
 study and productions of Mu- 
 sic, so must it needs be in all 
 other studies, where the use 
 and exercise of fancy is re- 
 quirable. 
 
 " I will, therefore, take a little more pains 
 than ordinary, to give such directions, as 
 you shall no ways wrong, or injure my 
 Mistress, but do her all the right you can, 
 according to her true deserts. 
 
 "First, therefore, observe to play soft, 
 and loud, as you see it marked quite through 
 the Lesson. 
 
 " Secondly, use that Grace, which I call 
 the Sting, where you see it set, and the 
 Spinger after it. 
 
 " And then, in the last four strains, ob- 
 serve the Slides, and Slurs, and you cannot 
 fail to know my Mistress's Humour, provided 
 you keep true time, which you must be ex- 
 tremely careful to do in all lessons : FOB 
 
 TlME IS THE ONE HALF OF MoSIC. 
 
 " And now, I hope I shall not be very 
 hard put to it, to obtain my pardon for all 
 this trouble I have thus put you to, in the 
 exercise of your patience ; especially from 
 those, who are so ingenious and good- 
 natured, as to prize, and value, such singular 
 and choice endowments, as I have here 
 made mention of in so absolute and coni- 
 pleat a subject." 
 
 MY MISTRESS OB MBS. MACE. 
 
 
 THOMAS MACE. 
 
 There is no prettier story in the history 
 of Music than this ; and what a loving, 
 loveable, happy creature must he have been 
 who could thus in his old age have related 
 it!
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 519 
 
 CHAPTER CXCV. 
 
 ANOTHER LESSON, WITH THE STORY AND 
 MANNER OF ITS PRODUCTION. 
 
 , i/.A* rf,; ffeuinv 
 
 MASTER Mace has another lesson which he 
 calls Hab-Nab ; it "has neither fugue, nor 
 very good form," he says, " yet a humour, 
 although none of the best ;" and his " story 
 of the manner and occasion of Hab-Nab's 
 production," affords a remarkable counter- 
 part to that of his favourite lesson. 
 
 " View every bar in it," he says, " and 
 you will find not any one Bar like another, 
 nor any affinity in the least kind betwixt 
 strain and strain, yet the Air pleaseth some 
 sort of people well enough ; but for ray own 
 part, I never was pleased with it ; yet 
 because some liked it, I retained it. Nor 
 can I tell how it came to pass that I thus 
 made it, only I very well remember the 
 time, manner, and occasion of its production, 
 (which was on a sudden,) without the least 
 premeditation, or study, and merely ac- 
 cidentally; and, as we use to say, ex tempore, 
 in the tuning of a lute. 
 
 "And the occasion, I conceive, might 
 possibly contribute something towards it, 
 which was this. 
 
 " I had, at that very instant, when I made 
 it, an agitation in hand, viz., the stringing 
 up, and tuning of a Lute, for a person of an 
 ununiform, and inharmonical disposition, 
 (as to Music,) yet in herself well propor- 
 tioned, comely, and handsome enough, and 
 ingenious for other things, but to Music 
 very unapt, and learned it only to please her 
 friends, who had a great desire she should 
 be brought to it, if possible, but never 
 could, to the least good purpose ; so that at 
 the last we both grew weary ; for there if 
 no striving against such a stream. 
 
 " I say, this occasion possibly might be 
 the cause of this so inartificial a piece, in 
 regard that that person, at that time, was 
 the chief object of my mind and thoughts. 
 
 I call it inartificial, because the chief ob- 
 servation (as to good performance) is wholly 
 wanting. Yet it is true Music, and has 
 such a form and humour, as may pass, and 
 give content to many. Yet I shall never 
 advise any to make things thus by hab-nab*, 
 without any design, as was this. And 
 therefore I give it that name. 
 
 " There are abundance of such things to 
 be met with, and from the hands of some, 
 who fain would pass for good composers ; 
 yet most of them may be traced, and upon 
 examination, their things found only to be 
 snaps and catches; which they, having 
 been long conversant in Music, and can 
 command an Instrument, through great and 
 long practice, some of them very well, 
 have taken here and there, (hab-nab,) from 
 several airs and things of other men's works, 
 and put them handsomely together, which 
 then pass for their own compositions. 
 
 " Yet I say, it is no affront, offence, or 
 injury, to any Master, for another to take 
 his Fugue, or Point to work upon, nor dis- 
 honour for any Artist so to do, provided he 
 shew by his Workmanship, a different Dis- 
 course, Form, or Humour. But it is rather 
 a credit and a repute for him so to do ; for 
 by his works he shall be known. It being 
 observable, That great Master Composers 
 may all along be as well known by their 
 Compositions, or their own compositions 
 known to be of them, as the great and 
 learned writers may be known by their 
 styles and works." 
 
 * Hab-Nab is a good old English word, derived from 
 the Anglo-Saxon. Skinner is correct enough. " Temerd, 
 sine consilio ab AS. Httbban Habere, Kabban, non Ha- 
 bere, addito scilicet na, non, cum apostrophe " Will- 
 nil!, i. e. Will ye, or will ye not, is a parallel form. 
 Every one will recollect the lines of Hudibras, (Part ii. 
 Canto iii.) 
 
 With that he circles draws, and squares, 
 With cyphers, astral characters : 
 Then looks 'em o'er to understand 'em 
 Although set down, hab nab, at random. 
 
 Dr. Grey illustrates the expression from Don Quixote: 
 "Let every man," says Sancho Pancha, " take care what 
 he talks or how he writes of other men, and not set down 
 at random, hab-nub, higgledy-piggledy, what comes into 
 his noddle." Part ii c. iii. 
 
 On referring to the original it will be seen that the 
 Translator has used three words for one. " Cada uno 
 mire coino habla 6 corao escriba de las presonas, y no 
 (otiga d troche moche lo primero quc le vicne al magin."
 
 520 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 CHAPTER CXCVI. 
 
 FURTHER ACCOUNT OF MASTER THOMAS 
 
 MACE, HIS LIGHT HEART, HIS SORROWS, 
 
 AND HIS POVERTY, " POORLY, POOR MAN, 
 
 HE LIVED, POORLY, POOR MAN, HE DIED" 
 PH1NEAS FLETCHER. 
 
 The sweet and the sour, 
 The nettle and the flower, 
 The thorn and the rose, 
 This garland compose. 
 SMALL GARLAND OF Pious AND GODLY SONGS. 
 
 LITTLE more is known of Thomas Mace 
 than can be gathered from his book. By a 
 good portrait of him in his sixty-third year, 
 it appears that he was born in 1613, and by 
 his arms that he was of gentle blood. And 
 as he had more subscribers to his book in 
 York than in any other place, (Cambridge 
 excepted,) and the name of Henry Mace, 
 Clerk, occurs among them, it may be pre- 
 sumed that he was a native of that city, or 
 of that county. This is the more likely, be- 
 cause when he was established at Cambridge 
 in his youth, his true love was in Yorkshire ; 
 and at that time his travels are likely to 
 have been confined between the place of his 
 birth and of his residence. 
 
 The price of his book was twelve shillings 
 in sheets ; and as he obtained about three 
 hundred subscribers, he considered this fair 
 encouragement to publish. But when the 
 work was completed and the accounts cast 
 up, he discovered that "in regard of his 
 unexpected great charge, besides his uncon- 
 ceivable care and pains to have it compleatly 
 done, it could not be well afforded at that 
 price, to render him any tolerable or reason- 
 able requital." He gave notice therefore, 
 that after it should have been published 
 three months, the price must be raised; 
 " adding thus much, (as being bold to say) 
 that there were several pages, yea several 
 lessons in this book, (accordmg to the ordi- 
 nary value, esteem, or way of procuring such 
 things,) which were every one of them of 
 more value than the price of the whole book 
 by far." 
 
 It might be truly said of him, that 
 
 Poorly, poor man, he lived, poorly, poor man, he died,* 
 
 for he never attained to any higher prefer- 
 ment than that of being " one of the Clerks 
 of Trinity College." But it may be doubted 
 whether any of those who partook more 
 largely of the endowment of that noble 
 establishment, enjoyed so large a portion of 
 real happiness. We find him in the sixty- 
 third year of his age, and the fortieth of his 
 marriage, not rich, not what the world calls 
 fortunate, but a contented, cheerful old man; 
 even though " Time had done to him this 
 wrong" that it had half deprived him of his 
 highest gratification, for he had become so 
 deaf that he could not hear his own lute. 
 When Homer says of his own blind bard 
 that the Muse gave him good and evil, de- 
 priving him of his eyes, but giving him the 
 gift of song, we understand the compen- 
 sation ; 
 
 T {i Mcu* 1 ' Ifl^rifi, Sidov 8" u.vAiii n xaxit rl, 
 
 but what can compensate a musician for the 
 loss of hearing ! There is no inward ear to 
 be the bliss of solitude. He could not, like 
 Pythagoras, dppf]T<f rivi Kal SvrrtinvorjT<{> 
 SreioTTjTi xp^/ifvoc, by an effort of ineffable 
 and hardly conceivable divinity retire into 
 the depths of his own being, and there listen 
 to that heavenly harmony of the spheres 
 which to him alone of all the human race was 
 made audible; ' Eavry -yap \ibv<# TUV *Vl yije 
 a,tra,VT(i>v<rvviTa Kal itrrjKoa ra KO'jfiiKa.^k^f.inra 
 tvafii&v ait avrijc T/;e ^vffiiciyf TTIJJTJS Ka\ pif/Jf.'f" 
 Master Mace had no such supernatural 
 faculty, and no such opinion of himself. But 
 the happy old man devises a means of over- 
 coming to a certain degree his defect by in- 
 venting what he called a Dyphone, or Double 
 Lute of fifty strings, a representation of which 
 is given in his book, as " the one only instru- 
 ment in being of that kind, then lately in- 
 vented by himself, and made with his own 
 hands in the year 1672." 
 
 " The occasion of its production was my 
 necessity ; viz. my great defect in hearing ; 
 adjoined with my unsatiable love and desire 
 
 * PHINEAS FLETCHER. 
 t IAMBLICHI Uber de Pythagorica Vita, c. xr.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 521 
 
 after the Lute. It being an instrument so 
 sdft, and past my reach of hearing, I did 
 imagine it was possible to contrive a louder 
 Lute, than ever any yet had been ; where- 
 upon, after divers casts and contrivances, I 
 pitched upon this order, the which has (in a 
 great degree) answered my expectation, it 
 being absolutely the lustiest or loudest Lute 
 that I ever yet heard. For although I can- 
 not hear the least twang of any other Lute, 
 when I play upon it, yet I can hear this in 
 a very good measure, yet not so loud as to 
 distinguish every thing I play, without the 
 help of my teeth, which when I lay close to 
 the edge of it, (there, where the lace is 
 fixed,) I hear all I play distinctly. So that 
 it is to me (I thank God !) one of the prin- 
 cipal refreshments and contentments I enjoy 
 in this world. What it may prove to others 
 in its use and service, (if any shall think fit 
 to make the like,) I know not, but I conceive 
 it may be very useful, because of the several 
 conveniences and advantages it has of all 
 other Lutes." 
 
 This instrument was on the one side a 
 Theorboe, on the other lute, having on the 
 former part twenty-six strings, twenty-four 
 on the latter. It had a fuller, plumper, and 
 lustier sound, he said, than any other lute, 
 because the concave was almost as long 
 again, being hollow from neck to mouth. 
 " This is one augmentation of sound ; there 
 is yet another ; which is from the strange 
 and wonderful secret, which lies in the 
 nature of sympathy, in unities, or the uniting 
 of harmonical sounds, the one always aug- 
 menting the other. For let two several 
 instruments lie asunder at any reasonable 
 distance, when you play upon one, the other 
 shall sound, provided they be both exactly 
 tuned in unisons to each other ; otherwise 
 not. This is known to all curious inspectors 
 into such mysteries. If this therefore be 
 true, it must needs be granted, that when 
 the strings of these two twins, accordingly 
 put on, are tuned in unities and set up to a 
 stiff lusty pitch, they cannot but more aug- 
 ment and advantage one the other." 
 
 Some allowances he begged for it, because 
 it was a new-made instrument and could not 
 
 yet speak so well as it would do, when it 
 came to age and ripeness, though it already 
 gave forth "a very free, brisk, trouling, 
 plump and sweet sound," and because it was 
 made by a hand that never before attempted 
 the making of any instrument. He con- 
 cludes his description of it, with what he 
 calls a Recreative Fancy : saying, " because 
 it is my beloved darling, I seemed, like an 
 old doting body, to be fond of it ; so that 
 when I finished it, I bedecked it with these 
 five rhymes following, fairly written upon 
 each belly. 
 
 " First, round the Theorboe knot, thus, 
 
 I am of old, and of Great Britain's fame, 
 Theorboe was my name. 
 
 Then next, about the French Lute knot, 
 thus, 
 
 I'm not so old ; yet grave, and much acute ;. 
 My name was the French lute. 
 
 Then from thence along the sides, from one 
 knot to the other, thus, 
 
 But since we are thus joined both in one, 
 Henceforth our name shall be the Lute Dyphone. 
 
 Then again cross-wise under the Theorboe- 
 knot, thus, 
 
 Lo here a perfect emblem seen in me. 
 Of England and of France, their unity ; 
 Likewise that year they did each other aid, 
 I was contrived, and thus compleatly made. 
 
 viz. when they united both against the 
 Dutch and beat them soundly, A. D. 1672. 
 
 "Then lastly, under the French Lute-knot, 
 thus, 
 
 Long have we been divided, now made one, 
 We sang in sevenths ; now in full unison. 
 In this firm union, long may we agree, 
 No unison is like Lute's harmony. 
 
 Thus in its body, tis trim, spruce and fine 
 But in its sp'rit, tis like a thing divine." 
 
 Poor Mace formed the plan of a Music- 
 room, and hoped to have erected it himself : 
 " but it pleased God," says he, " to disappoint 
 and discourage me several ways, for such a 
 work ; as chiefly by the loss of my hearing, 
 and by that means the emptiness of niy 
 purse, (my meaning may easily be guessed 
 at,) I only wanted money enough but no 
 good will thereunto." However he engraved 
 his plan, and annexed a description of it,
 
 522 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 " in hopes that at one time or other, there 
 might arise some honourable and truly nobly- 
 spirited person, or persons, who may con- 
 sider the great good use and benefit of such 
 a necessary convenience, and also find in his 
 heart to become a benefactor to such an 
 eminent good work, for the promotion of 
 the art and encouragement of the true lovers 
 of it; there being great need of such a thing, 
 in reference to the compleating and illus- 
 trating of the University Schools." 
 
 What he designed was a room six yards 
 square, having on each side three galleries 
 for spectators, each something more than 
 three yards deep. These were to be one 
 story from the ground, " both for advantage 
 of sound, and also to avoid the moisture of 
 the earth, which is very bad, both for in- 
 strument and strings ;" and the building 
 was to be " in a clear and very delightful 
 dry place, both free from water, the over- 
 hanging of trees, and common noises." The 
 room was for the performers, and it was to 
 be " one step higher on the floor than the 
 galleries the better to convey the sound to 
 the auditors : " being thus clear and free 
 from company, all inconvenience of talking, 
 crowding, sweating and blustering, &c. are 
 taken away ; the sound has its free and un- 
 interrupted passage ; the performers are no 
 ways hindered ; and the instruments will 
 stand more steadily in tune, (for no lutes, 
 viols, pedals, harpsicons, &c., will stand in 
 tune at such a time ; no, nor voices them- 
 selves ;) " For I have known," says he, " an 
 excellent voice, well prepared for a solemn 
 performance, who has been put up in a crowd, 
 that when he has been to perform his part, 
 could hardly speak, and by no other cause 
 but the very distemper received by that 
 crowd and overheat." 
 
 The twelve galleries, though but little, 
 would hold two hundred persons very well ; 
 and thus the uneasy and unhandsome ac- 
 commodation, which has often happened to 
 persons of quality, being crowded up, 
 squeezed and sweated among persons of an 
 inferior rank, might be avoided, " which 
 thing alone, having such distinct reception 
 for persons of different qualifiers, must needs 
 
 be accounted a great conveniency." But 
 there was a scientific convenience included 
 in the arrangement ; for the lower walls were 
 to be " wainscoted, hollow from the wall, 
 and without any kind of carved, bossed, or 
 rugged work, so that the sound might run 
 glib and smooth all about, without the least 
 interruption. And through that wainscot 
 there must be several conveyances all out 
 of the room by grooves, or pipes to cer- 
 tain auditor's seats, where the hearer, as he 
 sate, might at a small passage, or little hole, 
 receive the pent-up sound, which let it be 
 never so weak in the music-room, he, (though 
 at the furthest end of the gallery,) should 
 hear as distinctly as any who were close by 
 it." The inlets into these pipes should be 
 pretty large, a foot square at least, yet the 
 larger the better, without all doubt, and so 
 the conveyance to run proportionably nar- 
 rower, till it came to the ear of the auditor, 
 where it need not be above the wideness of 
 one's finger end. "It cannot," says he, "be 
 easily imagined, what a wonderful advantage 
 such a contrivance must needs be, for the 
 exact and distinct hearing of music ; without 
 doubt far beyond all that ever has yet been 
 used. For there is no instrument of touch, 
 be it never so sweet, and touched with the 
 most curious hand that can be, but in the 
 very touch, if you be near unto it, you may 
 perceive the touch to be heard ; especially 
 of viols and violins : but if you be at a dis- 
 tance, that harshness is lost, and conveyed 
 unto the air, and you receive nothing but 
 the pure sweetness of the instrument ; so as 
 I may properly say, you lose the body, but 
 enjoy the soul or spirit thereof." 
 
 Such a necessary, ample and most con- 
 venient erection would become, he thought, 
 any nobleman, or gentleman's house ; and 
 there might be built together with it as con- 
 venient rooms for all services of a family, as 
 by any other contrivance whatever, and as 
 magnificently stately. Were it but once 
 experienced, he doubted not, but that the 
 advantages would apparently show them- 
 selves, and be esteemed far beyond what 
 he had written, or that others could con- 
 ceive.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 52.3 
 
 The last notice which we have of good 
 Master Mace is an advertisement, dated 
 London, 1690, fourteen years after the pub- 
 lication of his book. Dr. Burney found it 
 in the British Museum, in a collection of 
 title-pages, devices and advertisements. It 
 is addressed " to all Lovers of the best sort 
 of Music." 
 
 Men say the times are strange ; tis true ; 
 
 'Cause many strange things hap to be. 
 Let it not then seem strange to you 
 
 That here one strange thing more you see. 
 
 That is, in Devereux Court, next the Grecian 
 Coffee House, at the Temple back gate, there 
 is a deaf person teacheth music to perfec- 
 tion ; who by reason of his great age, viz. 
 seventy-seven, is come to town, with his 
 whole stock of rich musical furniture ; viz. 
 instruments and books, to put off, to whom- 
 soever delights in such choice things ; for he 
 has nothing light or vain, but all substantial 
 and solid Mcsic. Some particulars do here 
 follow. 
 
 " First, There is a late invented Organ, 
 which, for private use, exceeds all other 
 fashioned organs whatever ; and for which, 
 substantial artificial reasons will be given ; 
 and, for its beauty, it may become a noble- 
 man's dining-room. 
 
 " Second, There belongs to it a pair of 
 fair, large-sized consort viols, chiefly fitted 
 and suited for that, or consort use ; and 'tis 
 great pity they should be parted. 
 
 " Third, There is a pedal harpsicon, (the 
 absolute best sort of consort harpsicon that 
 has been invented ; there being in it more 
 than twenty varieties, most of them to come 
 iu with the foot of the player ; without the 
 least hindrance of play,) exceedingly plea- 
 sant. 
 
 " Fourth, Is a single harpsicon. 
 
 " Fifth, A new invented instrument, called 
 a Dyphone, viz. a double lute ; it is both 
 theorboe and French lute compleat ; and as 
 easy to play upon as any other lute. 
 
 " Sixth, Several other theorboes, lutes and 
 viols, very good. 
 
 " Seventh, Great store of choice collec- 
 tions of the works of the most famous com- 
 posers that have lived in these last hundred 
 
 years, as Latin, English, Italian and some 
 French. 
 
 "Eighth, There is the publishers own 
 Music's Monument ; some few copies thereof 
 he has still by him to put off, it being a sub- 
 scribed book, and not exposed to common 
 sale. All these will be sold at very easy 
 rates, for the reasons aforesaid ; and because, 
 indeed, he cannot stay in town longer than 
 four months, exactly." 
 
 He further adds, " if any be desirous to 
 partake of his experimental skill in this high 
 noble art, during his stay in town, he is 
 ready to assist them ; and haply, they may 
 obtain that from him, which they may not 
 meet withal elsewhere. He teacheth these 
 five things ; viz. the theorboe, the French 
 lute, and the viol, iu all their excellent ways 
 and uses ; as also composition, together with 
 the knack of procuring invention to young 
 composers, (the general and greatest diffi- 
 culty they meet withal ;) this last thing not 
 being attempted by any author, (as he knows 
 of,) yet may be done, though some have been 
 so wise, or otherwise to contradict it : 
 
 Sed experientia docuit. 
 
 Any of these five things maybe learned so 
 understandingly, in this little time he stays, 
 by such general rules as he gives, together 
 with Music's Monument, (written principally 
 to such purposes,) as that any, aptly inclined, 
 may, for the future, teach themselves, with- 
 out any other help." 
 
 This is the last notice of poor Mace : poor 
 he may be called, when at the age of seventy- 
 seven he is found in London upon the for- 
 lorn hope of selling his instruments and his 
 books, and getting pupils during this stay. 
 It may be inferred that he had lost the son 
 of whose musical proficiency he formerly 
 spoke with so much pleasure ; for otherwise 
 this professional collection and stock in trade 
 would hardly have been exposed to sale, but 
 it appears that the good old man retained 
 his mental faculties, and his happy and con- 
 tented spirit. 
 
 Dr. Burney recommends the perusal of 
 what he calls his matchless book " to all 
 who have taste for excessive simplicity and 
 quaintness, and can extract pleasure from
 
 5-24 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 the sincere and undissembled happiness of 
 an author, who with exalted notions of his 
 subject and abilities, discloses to his readers 
 every inward working of self-approbation in 
 as undisguised a manner, as if he were com- 
 muning with himself in all the plenitude of 
 mental comfort and privacy." 
 
 CHAPTER CXCVIL 
 
 QUESTION PROPOSED, WHETHER A MAN BE 
 MAGNIFIED OR MINIFIED BY CONSIDERING 
 HIMSELF UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF THE 
 HEAVENLY BODIES, AND ANSWERED WITH 
 LEARNING AND DISCRETION. 
 
 I find by experience that Writing is like Building, 
 wherein the undertaker, to supply some defect, or serve 
 some convenience which at first he foresaw not, is usually 
 furred to exceed his first model and proposal, and many 
 times to double the charge and expence of it. 
 
 DR. JOHN SCOTT. 
 
 Is man magnified or minified by considering 
 himself as under the influence of the hea- 
 venly bodies, not simply as being 
 
 Moved round in earth's dismal course 
 With rocks and stones and trees * ; 
 
 but as affected by them in his constitution 
 bodily and mental, and dependent on them 
 for weal or woe, for good or evil fortune ; 
 as subjected, that is, according to astrolo- 
 gical belief to 
 
 The Stars, who, by I know not what strange right, 
 Preside o'er mortals in their own despite, 
 Who without reason, govern those who most, 
 (How truly, judge from thence !) of reason boast ; 
 And by some mighty magic, yet unknown, 
 Our actions guide, yet cannot guide their own.f 
 
 Apart from what one of our Platonic divines 
 calls " the power of astral necessity, and un- 
 controllable impressions arising from the 
 subordination and mental sympathy and 
 dependence of all mundane causes," which 
 is the Platonist's and Stoic's " proper notion 
 of fate f ; " apart, I say, from this, and from 
 the Calvinist's doctrine of predestination, is 
 it a humiliating, or an elevating considera- 
 
 * WORDSWORTH. 
 t CHURCHILL. J JOHN SMITH. 
 
 tion, that the same celestial movements 
 which cause the flux and reflux of the ocean, 
 should be felt in the pulse of a patient 
 suffering with a fever : and that the eternal 
 laws which regulate the stars in their 
 courses should decide the lot of an in- 
 dividual ? 
 
 Here again a distinction must be made, 
 between the physical theory and the 
 pseudo-science. The former is but a ques- 
 tion of more or less ; for that men are 
 affected by atmospherical influence is proved 
 by every endemic disease ; and invalids feel 
 in themselves a change of weather as de- 
 cidedly as they perceive its effect upon the 
 weather-glass, the hygrometer, or the strings 
 of a musical instrument. The sense of our 
 weakness in this respect, of our depen- 
 dence upon causes over which we have no 
 control, and which in their operation and 
 nature are inexplicable by us, must have a 
 humbling and therefore a beneficial tendency 
 in every mind disposed to goodness. It is 
 in the order of Providence that we should 
 learn from sickness and adversity lessons 
 which health and prosperity never teach. 
 
 Some of the old theoretical physicians 
 went far beyond this. Sachs von Lewen- 
 heimb compared the microcosm of man with 
 the macrocosm in which he exists. " The 
 heart in the one," he said, "is what the ocean 
 is in the other, the blood has its ebbing and 
 flowing like the tide, and as the ocean re- 
 ceives its impulse from the moon and the 
 winds, the brain and the vital spirits act in 
 like manner upon the heart." Baillet lias 
 noticed for censure the title of his book in 
 his chapter Des prejuges des Titres des 
 Livres; it is Oceanus Macro-Micro-cosmiciis. 
 Peder Severinsen carrying into his medical 
 studies a fanciful habit of mind which he 
 might better have indulged in his younger 
 days when he was a Professor of Poetry, 
 found in the little world of the human body, 
 antitypes of everything in the great world, 
 its mountains and its valleys, its rivers and 
 its lakes, its minerals and its vegetables, its 
 elements and its spheres. According to 
 him the stars are living creatures, subject 
 the same diseases as ourselves. Ours inde<
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 52;! 
 
 are derived from them by sympathy, or 
 astral influence, and can be remedied only 
 by those medicines, the application of which 
 is denoted by their apparent qualities, or by 
 the authentic signature of nature. 
 
 This fancy concerning the origin of dis- 
 eases is less intelligible than the mythology 
 of those Kosicrucians who held that they 
 were caused by evil demons rulers of the 
 respective planets, or by the Spirits of the 
 Firmament and the Air. A mythology this 
 niav more properly be coiled than a theory; 
 and it would belong rather to the history of 
 Manicheism than of medicine, were it not 
 that in all ages fanaticism and imposture 
 have, in greater or less degree, connected 
 themselves with the art of healing. 
 
 But however dignified, or super-celestial 
 the theoretical causes of disease, its effect is 
 always the same in bringing home, even to 
 the proudest heart, a sense of mortal weak- 
 ness : whereas the belief which places man 
 in relation with the Stars, and links his 
 petty concerns and fortunes of a day with 
 the movements of the heavenly bodies, and 
 the great chain of events, tends to exalt him 
 in his own conceit. The thriftless man in 
 middle or low life who says, in common 
 phrase, that he was born under a threepenny 
 planet, and therefore shall never be worth a 
 groat, finds some satisfaction in imputing 
 his unprosperity to the Stars, and casting 
 upon them the blame which he ought to 
 take upon himself. In vain did an old 
 Almanack-maker say to such men of the 
 Creator, in a better strain than was often 
 attained by the professors of his craft. 
 
 He made the Stars to be an aid unto us, 
 
 Not (as is fondly dreara'd) to help undo us : 
 
 Much less without our fault to ruinate 
 
 By doom of irrecoverable Fate. 
 
 And if our best endeavours use we will, 
 
 These glorious Creatures will be helpful still 
 
 In all our honest ways : for they do stand 
 
 To help, not hinder us, in God's command, 
 
 "Who doth not only rule them by his powers 
 
 But makes their glory servant unto ours. 
 
 Be wise In Him, and if just cause there be 
 
 The Sun and Moon shall stand and wait on thce. 
 
 On the other hand the lucky adventurer 
 proceeds with superstitious confidence in his 
 Fortune ; and the ambitious in many in- 
 stances have devoted themselves, or been 
 
 deceived to their own destruction. It is 
 found accordingly that the professors of 
 astrology generally in their private practice 
 addressed themselves to the cupidity or the 
 vanity of those by whom they were em- 
 ployed. Honest professors there were who 
 framed their schemes faithfully upon their 
 own rules; but the greater number were 
 those who consulted their own adrantage 
 only, and these men being well acquainted 
 with human nature in its ordinary character, 
 always took this course. Their character 
 has changed as little as human nature itself 
 in the course of two thousand years since 
 Ennius expressed his contempt for them, in 
 a passage preserved by Cicero. 
 
 Kan habeo denique nauci Afarsum augurem, 
 A T on eicanot Jtaruspices, non tie circo nstrologot, 
 Horn Isiacos cottjectores, non interpretes somnium. 
 \un enim iunt ii out scienlia out arte divini, 
 Sed superstiliosi vales, impudent-, sqite harioli, 
 Ant tnertes, tint iniani. out quibus egestas imperat : 
 Qui sibi semitam non sapiunt, alien munstrant riant. 
 Qitibus divitias pollicentur, ab Us drachmam ipsi pel tint. 
 De his dii'itiis sibi deducant drachmam, reddant ceetera. 
 
 Pompey, Crassus, and Caesar were each 
 assured by the Chaldaeans that he should die 
 in his own house, in prosperity, and in a 
 good old age. Cicero tells us this upon his 
 own knowledge : Quam mvlta ego Pompeio, 
 quam muLta Crasso, quam multa Jiuic ipsi 
 CcBsari a Chaldceis dicta mcmini, neminem 
 eorum nisi senectute, nisi doini, nisi cum clari- 
 tate esse moriturum! ut mihi ermirum 
 videatur, quemquam extare, qui etiam nunc 
 credat iis, quorum prcedicta quotidie videat re 
 et eventis rejelli. 
 
 And before the age of Ennius, Euripides 
 had in the person of Tiresias shown how 
 surely any such profession, if the professor 
 believed in his own art, must lead to mar- 
 tyrdom, or falsehood. When the blind old 
 Prophet turns away from Creon, he says, in 
 words worthy of Milton's favourite poet, 
 
 T p.u rf ' iyuh ITT' i%U! ' r,ym, rixw, 
 Tl(i; uxn' tint; 3' luvufa Zftreu ri^ry, 
 MaroJt;- f us* i-^Sfx tr-r,u.r i ia^ -n^ri. 
 
 X{*i> BffTOillTr, if ititixtr oSl'. 
 
 The sagacity of the poet will be seen by 
 those who are versed in the history of the
 
 526 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Old Testament ; and for those who are not 
 versed in it, the sooner they cease to be 
 ignorant in what so nearly concerns them, 
 the better it may be for themselves. 
 
 Jeremy Taylor says that he reproves 
 those who practised judicial astrology, and 
 pretended to deliver genethliacal predictions, 
 "not because their reason is against re- 
 ligion, for certainly," said he, " it cannot be ; 
 but because they have not reason enough in 
 what they say ; they go upon weak prin- 
 ciples which they cannot prove; they reduce 
 them to practice by impossible mediums ; 
 they argue about things with which they 
 have little conversation. Although the art 
 may be very lawful if the stars were upon 
 the earth, or the men were in heaven, if 
 they had skill in what they profess, and 
 reason in all their pretences, and after 
 all that their principles were certain, and 
 that the stars did really signify future 
 events, and that those events were not 
 overruled by everything in heaven and 
 in earth, by God, and by our own will and 
 wisdom, yet because here is so little 
 reason and less certainty, and nothing but 
 confidence and illusion, therefore it is that 
 religion permits them not ; and it is not the 
 reason in this art that is against religion, 
 but the folly or the knavery of it ; and the 
 dangerous and horrid consequents which 
 they feel that run a-whoring after such 
 idols of imagination." 
 
 In our days most of those persons who 
 can afford to employ the greater part of 
 their thoughts upon themselves fall at a 
 certain age under the influence either of a 
 physical or a spiritual director, for Pro- 
 testantism has its Directeurs as well as 
 Popery, less to its advantage and as little to 
 its credit. The spiritual professors have 
 the most extensive practice, because they, 
 like their patients, are of all grades, and are 
 employed quite as much among the sound 
 as the sick. The astrologer no longer 
 contests the ascendancy with either. That 
 calling is now followed by none but such 
 low impostors, that they are only heard of 
 when one of them is brought before a 
 magistrate for defrauding some poor cre- 
 
 dulous creature in the humblest walks of 
 life. So low has that cunning fallen, which 
 in the seventeenth century introduced its 
 professors into the cabinets of kinirs, and 
 more powerful ministers. An astrologer 
 was present at the birth of Louis XIV., 
 that he might mark with all possible pre- 
 cision the exact moment of his nativity. 
 After the massacre of St. Bartholomew's 
 day, Catherine de Medici, deep in blood as 
 she was, hesitated about putting to death 
 the King of Navarre and the Prince of 
 Conde, and 'the person of whom she took 
 counsel was an astrologer, had she gone 
 to her Confessor their death would have 
 been certain. Cosmo Ruggieri was an un- 
 principled adventurer, but on this occasion 
 he made a pious use of his craft, and when 
 the Queen inquired of him what the nativi- 
 ties of these Princes prognosticated, he 
 assured her that he had calculated them 
 with the utmost exactness, and that accord- 
 ing to the principles of his art, the State had 
 nothing to apprehend from either of them. 
 He let them know this as soon as he could, 
 and told them that he had given this answer 
 purely from regard for them, not from any 
 result of his schemes, the matter being in its 
 nature undiscoverable by astrology. 
 
 The Imperial astrologers in China excused 
 themselves once for a notable failure in their 
 art, with more notable address. The error 
 indeed was harmless, except in its probable 
 consequences to themselves ; they had pre- 
 dicted an eclipse, and no eclipse took place. 
 But instead of being abashed at this proof 
 of their incapacity the ready rogues com- 
 plimented the Emperor, and congratulated 
 him upon so wonderful and auspicious an 
 event. The eclipse, they said, portended 
 evil, and therefore in regard to him the 
 Gods had put it by. 
 
 An Asiatic Emperor who calls himself 
 Brother to the Sun and Moon might well 
 believe that his relations would go a little 
 out of their way to oblige him, if the Queen 
 of Navarre could with apparent sincerity 
 declare her belief that special revelations 
 are made to the Great, as one of the privi- 
 leges of their high estate, and that her
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 >27 
 
 mother, that Catherine de Medici whose 
 name is for ever infamous, was thus miracu- 
 lously forewarned of every remarkable event, 
 that befell her husband and her children, 
 nor was she herself without her share in this 
 privilege, though her character was not 
 more spotless in one point than her mother's 
 in another. De ces divins advertissemens, 
 she sa\s,je ne me veux estimer digne, toutes- 
 fois p'jurtie me taire comme ingrate des graces 
 que fay receiies de Dieu, queje dois et veux 
 confesser toute ma vie, pour luy en rendrcgrace, 
 et que chacun le loue aux merveilles des effets 
 de sa puissance, bonte, et misericorde, quCil Ivy 
 a plufaire en moy,fadvoueray ri avoir jamais 
 este procke de quelques signalez accidens, ou 
 sinistres, ou heureux, que fen aye eu quelque 
 advertissement ou en songe, ou autrement; 
 et puis Lien dire ce vers, 
 
 De man bien mi man mal, man esprit m'est oracle. 
 
 CHAPTER CXCVIII. 
 
 PETER HOPKINS' VIEWS OF ASTROLOGY. HIS 
 SKILL IN CHIROMANCY, PALMISTRY, OR 
 MANUAL DIVINATION WISELY TEMPERED. 
 SPANISH PROVERB AND SONNET BY BAR- 
 TOLOME LEONARDO DE AHGENSOLA. TIP- 
 POO SULTAN. MAHOMETAN SUPERSTITION. 
 W. Y. PLAYTES' PROSPECTUS FOR TUB HORN 
 BOOK FOR THE REMEMBRANCE OF THE 
 SIGNS OF SALVATION. 
 
 Seguile danque con la mente lieta, 
 Seguile, Monstgnor, die com' io dico, 
 Presto presto sarete in su la meta. 
 
 LUDOVICO DOLCE. 
 
 PETER HOPKINS had believed in astrology 
 when he studied it in early life with his 
 friend Gray ; his faith in it had been over- 
 thrown by observation and reflection, and 
 the unperceived influence of the opinions of 
 the learned and scientific public ; but there 
 was more latent doubt in his incredulity 
 than had ever lurked at the root of his 
 belief. 
 
 He was not less skilled in the kindred, 
 though more trivial art of Chiromancy, Pal- 
 uiisrry, or Manual Divination, for the divine 
 origin of which a verse in the Book of Job 
 
 was adduced as scriptural proof; "He sealeth 
 up the hand of every man, that all men may 
 know his work." The text appears more 
 chiromantical in the Vulgate : Qui in manu 
 omnium hominum signa poxuit: Who has 
 placed signs in the hand of all men. The 
 uses of the science were represented to be 
 such, as to justify this opinion of its origi- 
 nation: "For hereby," says Fabian Withers, 
 " thou shalt perceive and see the secret 
 works of Nature, how aptly and necessarily 
 she hath compounded and knit each member 
 with other, giving unto the hand, as unto a 
 table, certain signs and tokens whereby to 
 discern and know the inward motions and 
 affections of the mind and heart, with the 
 inward state of the whole body : as also 
 our inclination and aptness to all our external 
 actions and doings. For what more profitable 
 thing may be supposed or thought, than when 
 a man in himself may foresee and know his 
 proper and fatal accidents, and thereby to 
 embrace and follow that which is good, and 
 to avoid and eschew the evils which are 
 imminent unto him, for the better under- 
 standing and knowledge thereof?" 
 
 But cautioning his readers against the 
 error of those who perverted their belief in 
 palmistry and astrology, and used it as a 
 refuge or sanctuary for all their evil deeds, 
 " we ought," said he, " to know and under- 
 stand that the Stars do not provoke or force 
 us to anything, but only make us apt and 
 prone ; and being so disposed, allure as it 
 were, and draw us forward to our natural 
 inclination. In the which if we follow the 
 rule of Reason, taking it to be our only guide 
 and governor, they lose all the force, power 
 and effect which they by any means may 
 have in and upon us : contrariwise, if we 
 give ourselves over to follow our own sen- 
 suality and natural dispositions, they work 
 even the same effect on us that they do in 
 brute beasts." 
 
 Farther he admonishes all " which should 
 read or take any fruit of his small treatise, 
 to use such moderation in perusing of the 
 same that they do not by and by take in 
 hand to give judgment either of their own, 
 or other men's estates or nativities, without
 
 528 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 diligent circumspection and taking heed; 
 weighing and considering how many ways a 
 man may be deceived ; as by the providence 
 and discretion of the person on whom he 
 gives judgment, also, the dispensation of 
 God, and our fallible and uncertain specu- 
 lation," " Wherefore," he continues, " let all 
 men in seeking hereby to foresee their own 
 fortune, take heed that by the promise of 
 good, they be not elate, or high-minded, 
 giving themselves over to otiosity or idle- 
 ness, and trusting altogether to the Natural 
 Influences ; neither yet by any signs or 
 tokens of adversity, to be dejected or cast 
 down, but to take and weigh all things with 
 such equality and moderation, directing 
 their state of life and living to all perfectness 
 and goodness, that they may be ready to 
 embrace and follow all that which is good 
 and profitable ; and also not only to eschew 
 and avoid, but to withstand and set at nought 
 all evil and adverse fortune, whensoever it 
 may happen unto them." 
 
 Whoever studies the history of opinions, 
 that is, of the aberrations, caprices, and ex- 
 travagances of the human mind, may find 
 some consolation in reflecting upon the 
 practical morality which has been preached 
 not only by men of the most erroneous faith, 
 but even by fanatics, impostors and hypo- 
 crites, as if it were in the order of Providence 
 that there should be no poison which had not 
 also some medicinal virtue. The books of 
 palmistry have been so worn by perusal that 
 one in decent preservation is now among the 
 rarities of literature ; and it may be hoped 
 that of the credulous numbers who have 
 pored over them, many have derived more 
 benefit from the wholesome lessons which 
 were thus unexpectedly brought home to 
 them, than they suffered detriment from 
 giving ear to the profession of a fallacious 
 art. 
 
 The lesson was so obvious that the Spa- 
 niards expressed it in one of their pithy 
 proverbs, es nuestra alma en nuestra palma. 
 The thought has been expanded into a son- 
 net by Bartolome Leonardo de Argensola, a 
 poet whose strains of mauly morality have 
 not been exceeded in that language. 
 
 Fabio, pensar que el Padre soberano 
 
 En esas rayas de la palma diestra 
 
 (Que son arrvgas de la piel) te mttettra 
 Los accidentes del rtiscurso humanoi 
 Et beber con el vnlgo el error vano 
 
 De la ignornncin, su comun maestro. 
 
 Bifn te confieso, que la suerte nuestra. 
 Mala, o buetia, la j>uso en nuestra mono. 
 Di, quiin te estorvara el ser Rey, si vives 
 
 Sin envidiar la suerte de los Reyes, 
 Tan contento y pacifico en la tuya, 
 
 Que esten ociosas para ti sus leyes; 
 Y qualquier novedad que el Cielo influya, 
 
 Como cosa ordinaria la recibes ? 
 
 Fabius to think that God hath interlined 
 
 The human hand like some prophetic page, 
 And in the wrinkles of the palm defined 
 
 As in a map, our mortal pilgrimage, 
 This is to follow, with the multitude, 
 
 Error and Ignorance, their common guides, 
 Vet heaven hath placed, for evil or for good, 
 
 Our fate in our own hands, whate'er betides. 
 Being as we make it. Art thou not a king 
 
 Thyself my friend, when envying not the lot 
 Of thrones, ambition hath for thee no sting, 
 
 Laws are to thee as they existed not, 
 And in thy harmless station no event 
 Can shake the calm of its assured content. 
 
 " Nature," says a Cheirologist, " was a 
 careful workman in the creation of the 
 human body. She hath set in the hand of 
 man certain signs and tokens of the heart, 
 brain and liver, because in them it is that 
 the life of man chiefly consists, but she hath 
 not done so of the eyes, ears, mouth, hands 
 and feet, because those parts of the body 
 seem rather to be made for a comeliness or 
 beauty, than for any necessity." What he 
 meant to say was that any accident which 
 threatened the three vital parts was be- 
 tokened in the lines of the palm, but that 
 the same fashioning was not necessary in 
 relation to parts which might be injured 
 without inducing the loss of life. Therefore 
 every man's palm has in it the lines relating 
 to the three noble parts; the more minute 
 lines are only found on subjects of finer 
 texture, and if they originally existed in 
 husbandmen and others whose hands are 
 rendered callous by their employments, they 
 are effaced. 
 
 It was only cheirologically speaking that 
 he disparaged what sailors in their emphatic 
 language so truly call our precious eyes and 
 limbs, not that he estimated them like 
 Tippoo Sultan, who in one of his letters 
 says, that if people persisted in visiting a
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 520 
 
 certain person who was under bis displeasure, 
 " their ears and noses should be dispensed 
 with." This strange tyrant wrote odes in 
 praise of himself, and describes the effect 
 of his just government to be such, that in 
 the security of his protection " the deer of 
 the forest made their pillow of the lion and 
 the tyger, and their mattress of the leopard 
 and the panther." 
 
 Tippoo did not consider ears and noses to 
 be superfluities when in that wanton wicked- 
 ness which seldom fails to accompany the 
 possession of irresponsible power he spoke 
 of dispensing with them. But in one in- 
 stance arms and legs were regarded as 
 worse than superfluous. Some years ago a 
 man was exhibited who was born without 
 either, and in that condition had found a 
 woman base enough to marry him. Having 
 got some money together, she one day set 
 this wretched creature upon a chimney- 
 piece, from whence he could not move, and 
 went off with another man, stripping him of 
 everything that she could cany away. The 
 first words he uttered, when some one came 
 into the room and took him down, were an 
 imprecation upon those people who had legs 
 and arms, because, he said, they were always 
 in mischief ! 
 
 The Mahommedans believe that every 
 man's fate is written on his forehead, but 
 that it can be read by those only whose 
 eyes have been opened. The Brahmins say 
 that the sutures of the skull describe in like 
 manner the owner's destined fortune, but 
 neither can this mysterious writing be seen 
 by any one during his life, nor decyphered 
 after his death. Both these notions are 
 mere fancies which afford a foundation for 
 nothing worse than fable. Something more 
 extraordinary has been excogitated by W. 
 Y. Playtes, Lecturer upon the Signs of the 
 light of the Understanding. He announces 
 to mankind that the prints of the nails of 
 the Cross which our Lord showed Thomas 
 are printed in the roots of the nails of the 
 hands and feet of every man that is born 
 into the world, for witnesses, and for leading 
 us to believe in the truth of all the signs, 
 and graven images and pictures that are 
 
 seen in the Heavenly Looking Glass of Re- 
 flection, in the Sun and the Moon and the 
 Stars. This Theosophist has published a 
 short Prospectus of his intended work 
 entitled the Horn Book for the remembrance 
 of the Signs of Salvation, which Horn Book 
 is (should subscriptions be forthcoming) to 
 be published in one hundred and forty-four 
 numbers, forming twelve octavo volumes of 
 six hundred pages each, with fifty plates, 
 maps and tables, and 365,000 marginal re- 
 ferences, being one thousand for every 
 day in the year. Wonder not, reader, at the 
 extent of this projected work ; for, says the 
 author, " the Cow of the Church of Truth 
 giveth abundance of milk, for the Babes of 
 Knowledge." But for palmistry there was 
 a plausible theory which made it applicable 
 to the purposes of fraud. 
 
 Among the odd persons with whom Peter 
 Hopkins had become acquainted in the 
 course of his earlier pursuits, was a sincere 
 student of the occult sciences, who, being a 
 more refined and curious artist, whenever 
 he cast the nativity of any one, took an 
 impression from the palm of the hand, as 
 from an engraved plate, or block. He had 
 thus a fac-simile of what he wanted. Accord- 
 ing to Sir Thomas Browne, the variety in 
 the lines is so great, that there is almost no 
 strict conformity. Bewick in one of his 
 works has in this manner printed his own 
 thumb. There are French deeds of the 15th 
 century which are signed by the imprint of 
 five fingers dipt in ink, underwritten Ce est 
 la griffe de monseigneur.* 
 
 Hopkins himself did not retain any lurk- 
 ing inclination to believe in this art. You 
 could know without it, he said, whether a 
 person were open-handed, or close-fisted, 
 and this was a more useful knowledge than 
 palmistry could give us. But the Doctor 
 sometimes made use of it to amuse children, 
 and gave them at the same time playful 
 admonition, and wholesome encouragement. 
 
 * The Reader, who it curious in such matters, may 
 turn to Ames and Herbert, (Dibdin, ii. 380.) for the hands 
 in Holt's Lac Puerorum, emprynted at London by Wyn- 
 kyn de Worde.
 
 530 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 CHAPTER CXCIX. 
 
 CONCERNING THE CHEAT HONOURS TO WHICH 
 CERTAIN HORSES HAVE ATTAINED, AND 
 THE ROYAL MERITS OF NOBS. 
 
 Sienlo para conlarlas que me llama 
 El d mi, yo a mi pluma, ella a la Jama. 
 
 BALBCENA. 
 
 THERE have been great and good horses 
 whose merits have been recorded in history 
 and in immortal song as they well deserved 
 to be. Who has not heard of Bucephalus ? 
 of whom Pulteney said that he questioned 
 whether Alexander himself had pushed 
 his conquests half so far, if Bucephalus had 
 not stooped to take him on his back. Statius 
 hath sung of Arion, who when he carried 
 Neptune left the winds panting behind him, 
 and who was the best horse that ever has 
 been heard of for taking the water. 
 
 Sape per Ionium Libycumqvf natanttbui ire 
 Interjunctus equis, omnesque assuelus in oras 
 Cceruleum defer re pair em. 
 
 Tramp, tramp across the land he went, 
 Splash, splash across the sea. 
 
 But he was a dangerous horse in a gig. 
 Hercules found it difficult to hold him in, 
 and Polynices when he attempted to drive 
 him made almost as bad a figure as the 
 Taylor upon his ever- memorable excursion 
 to Brentford. 
 
 The virtues of Caligula's horse, whom 
 that Emperor invited to sup with him, whom 
 he made a Priest, and whom he intended to 
 make Consul, have not been described by 
 those historians who have transmitted to us 
 the account of his extraordinary fortune ; 
 and when we consider of what materials, 
 even in our days, both Priests and Senators 
 are sometimes made, we may be allowed to 
 demur at any proposition which might in- 
 clude an admission that dignity is to be 
 considered an unequivocal mark of desert. 
 More certain it is that Borysthenes was a 
 good horse, for the Emperor Adrian erected 
 a monument to his memory, and it was 
 recorded in his epitaph that he used to fly 
 over the plains and marshes and Etrurian 
 hills, hunting Pannonian boars ; he appears 
 
 by his name to have been, like Nobs, of 
 Tartaric race. 
 
 Bavieca was a holy and happy horse, I 
 borrow the epithets from the Bishop of 
 Chalons's sermon upon the Bells. Gil Diaz 
 deserved to be buried in the same grave 
 with him. And there is an anonymous 
 Horse, of whom honourable mention is made 
 in the Roman Catholic Breviary, for his 
 religious merits, because after a Pope had 
 once ridden him, he never would suffer 
 himself to be unhallowed by carrying a 
 woman on his back. These latter are both 
 Roman Catholic Houyhnhnms, but among 
 the Mahometans also, quadrupedism is not 
 considered an obstacle to a certain kind of 
 canonisation. Seven of the Emperor of 
 Morocco's horses have been Saints, or Ma- 
 rabouts, as the Moors would call it; and 
 some there were who enjoyed that honour 
 in the year 1721 when Windus was at 
 Mequinez. One had been thus distinguished 
 for saving the Emperor's life ; " and if a 
 man," says the Traveller, " should kill one 
 of his children, and lay hold of this horse, 
 he is safe. This horse has saved the lives 
 of some of the captives, and is fed with 
 cuscu.ru and camel's milk. After the Em- 
 peror has drank, and the horse after him, 
 some of his favourites are suffered to drink 
 out of the same bowl." This was probably 
 the horse who had a Christian slave ap- 
 pointed to hold up his tail when he was led 
 abroad, and to carry a vessel and towel, 
 " for use unmeet to tell." 
 
 I have discovered only one Houyhnhnm 
 who was a martyr, excepting those who are 
 sometimes burnt with the rest of the family 
 by Captain Rock's people in Ireland. This 
 was poor Morocco, the learned horse of 
 Queen Elizabeth's days : he and his master 
 Banks, having been in some danger of being 
 put to death at Orleans, were both burnt 
 alive by the Inquisition at Rome, as ma- 
 gicians. The word martyr is here used in 
 its religious acceptation : for the victims of 
 avarice and barbarity who are destroyed by 
 hard driving and cruel usage are numerous 
 enough to make a frightful account among 
 the sins of this nation.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 531 
 
 Fabretti the antiquary had a horse which, 
 when he carried his master on an antiquarian 
 excursion, assisted him in his researches ; 
 for this sagacious horse had been so much 
 accustomed to stop where there were ruins, 
 and probably had found so much satisfaction 
 in grazing, or cropping the boughs among 
 them at his pleasure, that he was become a 
 sort of antiquary himself; and sometimes 
 by stopping and as it were pointing like a 
 setter, gave his master notice of some 
 curious and half-hidden objects which he 
 might otherwise have passed by unperceived. 
 
 How often has a drunken rider been 
 carried to his own door by a sure-footed 
 beast, sensible enough to understand that 
 his master was in no condition either to 
 guide him, or to take care of himself. How 
 often has a stage coach been brought safely 
 to its inn after the coachman had fallen 
 from the box. Nay, was there not a mare 
 at Ennis races in Ireland (Atalanta was her 
 name) who, having thrown her rider, kept 
 the course with a perfect understanding of 
 what was expected from her, looked back 
 and quickened her speed as the other horses 
 approached her, won the race, trotted a few 
 paces beyond the post, then wheeled round, 
 and came up to the scale as usual ? And 
 did not Hurieyburley do the same thing at 
 the Goodwood races ? 
 
 That Nobs was the best horse in the world 
 I will not affirm. Best is indeed a bold 
 word to whatever it be applied, and yet in 
 the shopkeeper's vocabulary it is at the 
 bottom of his scale of superlatives. A 
 haberdasher in a certain great city is still 
 remembered, whose lowest priced gloves 
 were what he called Best, but then he had 
 five degrees of optimism ; Best, Better than 
 Best, Best of all, Better than Best of all, 
 and the Real Best. It may be said of Nobs, 
 then, that he was one of the Real Best : 
 equal to any that Spain could have produced 
 to compare with him, though concerning 
 Spanish horses, the antiquary and historian 
 Morales, (properly and as it were pro- 
 phetically baptized Ambrosio, because his 
 name ought ever to be in ambrosial odour 
 among his countrymen,) concerning Spanish 
 
 horses, I say, that judicious author has said, 
 la estima que agora se hace en todo el mundo 
 de un caballo Espafiol es la mas solemne cosa 
 que puede haber en animales. 
 
 Neither will I assert that there could not 
 have been a better horse than Nobs, because 
 I remember how Roger Williams tells us, 
 " one of the chiefest Doctors of England 
 was wont to say concerning strawberries, 
 that God could have made a better berry, 
 but he never did." Calling this to mind, I 
 venture to say as that chiefest Doctor might, 
 and we may believe would have said upon 
 the present occasion, that a better horse 
 than Nobs there might have been, but 
 there never was. 
 
 The Duchess of Newcastle tells us that 
 her Lord, than whom no man could be a 
 more competent judge, preferred barbs and 
 Spanish to all others, for barbs, he said, 
 were like gentlemen in their kind, and 
 Spanish horses like Princes. This saying 
 would have pleased the Doctor, as coinciding 
 entirely with his own opinions. He was no 
 believer in equality either among men or 
 beasts ; and he used to say, that in a state 
 of nature Nobs would have been the king of 
 his kind. 
 
 And why not ? If I do not show you 
 sufficient precedents for it call me FIMBBL 
 FAMBI. 
 
 CHAPTER CC. 
 
 A CHAPTER OF KINGS. 
 
 FIMBUL-FAMBI heitr 
 
 Sd erfatt ktmn segia, 
 
 That er 6snotvrs athal, 
 
 Fimbul-fambi (fatuns) vocatur 
 
 Quipauca novit narrare : 
 
 Ea est hum in is inscili proprietor. 
 
 Emu, Hara Mai. 
 
 THERE are other monarchies in the inferior 
 world, besides that of the Bees, though they 
 have not been registered by Naturalists, nor 
 
 1 studied by them. 
 
 For example, the King of the Fleas keeps 
 his court at Tiberias, as Dr. Clarke dis- 
 covered to his cost, and as Mr. Cripps will 
 
 \ testify for him.
 
 532 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 The King of the Crocodiles resides in 
 Upper Egypt ; he has no tail, but Dr. 
 Southey has made one for him. 
 
 The Queen Muscle may be found at the 
 Falkland Islands. 
 
 The Oysters also have their King accord- 
 ing to Pliny. Theirs seems to be a sort of 
 patriarchical monarchy, the King, or per- 
 adventure the Queen, Oyster being dis- 
 tinguished by its size and age, perhaps 
 therefore the parent of the bed ; for every 
 bed, if Pliny err not, has its sovereign. In 
 Pliny's time the diver made it his first 
 business to catch the royal Oyster, because 
 his or her Majesty being of great age and 
 experience, was also possessed of marvellous 
 sagacity, which was exercised for the safety 
 of the commonweal ; but if this were taken 
 the others might be caught without difficulty, 
 just as a swarm of Bees may be secured 
 after the Queen is made prisoner. Seeing, 
 however, that his Oyster Majesty is not to 
 be heard of now at any of the Oyster shops 
 in London, nor known at Colchester or 
 Milton, it may be that liberal opinions have, 
 in the march of intellect, extended to the 
 race of Oysters, that monarchy has been 
 abolished among them, and that republi- 
 canism prevails, at this day throughout all 
 Oysterdom, or at least in those parts of it 
 which be near the British shores. It has 
 been observed also by a judicious author 
 that no such King of the Oysters has been 
 found in the West Indian Pearl fisheries. 
 
 The King of the Bears rules over a terri- 
 tory which is on the way to the desert of 
 Hawaida, and Hatim Tai married his 
 daughter, though the said Hatim was long 
 unwilling to become a Mac Mahon by 
 marriage. 
 
 " I was told by the Sheikh Othman and 
 his son, two pious and credible persons," 
 says the traveller Ibn Batista, "that the 
 Monkies have a leader whom they follow as 
 if he were their King (this was in Ceylon). 
 About his head is tied a turban composed of 
 the leaves of trees, (for a crown,) and he 
 reclines upon a staff", (which is his sceptre). 
 At his right and left hand are four Monkies 
 with rods in their hands, (gold sticks,) all 
 
 of which stand at his head whenever the 
 leading Monkey (his Majesty) sits. His 
 wives and children are daily brought in on 
 these occasions, and sit down before him; 
 then comes a number of Monkies (his privy 
 council), which sit and form an assembly 
 about him. After this each of them conies 
 with a nut, a lemon or some of the mountain 
 fruit, which he throws down before the 
 leader. He then eats (dining in public, 
 like the King of France,) together with his 
 wives, and children, arid the four principal 
 Monkies : they then all disperse. One of 
 the Jogres also told me, that he once saw 
 the four Monkies standing in the presence 
 of the leader, and beating another Monkey 
 with rods ; after which they plucked off all 
 his hair." 
 
 The Lion is the King of Beasts. Hut- 
 chinson, however, opines that Bulls may be 
 ranked in a higher class ; for helmets are 
 fortified with their horns, which is a symbol 
 of pre-eminence. Certainly he says, both 
 the Bull and Lion discover the King, but 
 the Bull is a better and more significant 
 representative of a King than the Lion. 
 But neither Bull nor Lion is King of all 
 Beasts, for a certain person whose name 
 being anagrammatised rendereth Johnny 
 the Bear, is notoriously the King of the 
 Bears at this time : even Ursa Major would 
 not dispute his title. And a certain honour- 
 able member of the House of Commons 
 would by the tottle of that whole House be 
 voted King of the Bores. 
 
 The King of the Codfish frequents the 
 shores of Finmark. He has a sort of 
 chubbed head, rising in the shape of a crown, 
 his forehead is broad, and the lower jaw 
 bone projects a little ; in other parts he 
 resembles his subjects, whom he leads and 
 directs in their migrations. The Laplanders 
 believe that the fisherman who takes him 
 will from that time forth be fortunate, 
 especially in fishing ; and they show their 
 respect for his Cod-Majesty, when he is 
 taken, by hanging him up whole to dry, 
 instead of cutting off his head as they do to 
 the common fish. 
 
 In Japan the Tai, which the Dutch call
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 533 
 
 Steenbrassem, is the King of Fish, because 
 it is sacred to their sea-god Jebis, and 
 because of its splendid colours, and also, 
 perhaps, because of its exorbitant price, it 
 being so scarce, that for a court enter- 
 tainment, or on other extraordinary occa- 
 sions, one is not to be had under a thousand 
 cobangs. 
 
 Among the Gangas or Priests of Congo 
 is one whose official title is Mutuin, and who 
 calls himself King of the Water, for by 
 water alone he professes to heal all diseases. 
 At certain times all who need his aid are 
 assembled on the banks of a river. He 
 throws an empty vessel in, repeats some 
 mysterious words, then takes it out full and 
 distributes the water as an universal me- 
 dicine. 
 
 The Herring has been called the King of 
 Fish, because of its excellence, the Herring, 
 as all Dutchmen know, and as all other men 
 ought to know, exceeding every other fish 
 in goodness. Therefore it may have been 
 that the first dish which used to be brought 
 to table in this country on Easter Day, was 
 a Red Herring on horseback, set in a corn 
 sallad. 
 
 Others have called the Whale, King of 
 Fish. But Abraham Rees, D.D. and F.R.S. 
 of Cyclopasdian celebrity, assures us that the 
 whale,notwithstanding itspiscine appearance, 
 and its residence in the waters, has no claim 
 to a place among fishes. Uncle Toby would 
 have whistled Lillabullero at being told that 
 the Whale was not a fish. The said Abraham 
 Rees, however, of the double Dees, who is, 
 as the advertisement on the cover of his own 
 Cyclopaedia informs us, " of acknowledged 
 learning and industry, and of unquestionable 
 experience in this (the Cyclopaedian) depart- 
 ment of literary labour," candidly admits 
 that the Ancients may surely be excused for 
 thinking Whales were fish. But how can 
 Abraham Rees be excused for denying the 
 Whale's claim to a place among the in- 
 habitants of the Great Deep, which was 
 appointed for him at the Creation ? 
 
 But the Great Fish, who is undoubtedly 
 the King of Fish, and of all creatures that 
 exist in the sea, Whales, Mermen-and-Maids 
 
 included, is the fish Arez, which Ormuzd 
 created, and placed in the water that sur- 
 rounds Horn, the King of Trees, to protect 
 that sacred arboreal Majesty against the 
 Great Toad sent there by Ahriman to de- 
 stroy it. 
 
 It is related in the same archives of cos- 
 mogony that the King of the Goats is a 
 White Goat, who carries his head in a 
 melancholy and cogitabund position, regard- 
 ing the ground, weighed down perhaps 
 by the cares of royalty ; that the King of 
 the Sheep has his left ear white, from 
 whence it may appear that the Royal Mutton 
 is a black sheep, which the Royal Ram of 
 the Fairy Tales is not : that the King of the 
 Camels has two white ears : and that the 
 King of the Bulls is neither Apis, nor John 
 Bull, but a Black Bull with yellow ears. 
 According to the same archives, a White 
 Horse with yellow ears and full eyes is King 
 of the Horses ; doubtless the Mythological 
 Horse King would acknowledge Nobs for 
 his Vicegerent. The Ass King is also white : 
 his Asinine Majesty has no Vicegerent. The 
 number of competitors being so great that 
 he has appointed a regency. 
 
 The King of Dogs is yellow. The King 
 of Hares red. 
 
 There are Kings among the Otters in the 
 Highland waters, and also among their rela- 
 tions the Sea Otters. The royal Otter is 
 larger than his subjects, and has a white 
 spot upon the breast. He shuns observa- 
 tion, which it is sometimes provident for 
 Kings to do, especially under such circum- 
 stances as his, for his skin is in great re- 
 quest, among soldiers and sailors ; it is sup- 
 posed to ensure victory, to secure the wearer 
 from being wounded, to be a prophylactic 
 in times of contagious sickness, and a pre- 
 servative in shipwreck. But it is not easy 
 to find an Otter King, and when found there 
 is danger in the act of regicide, for he bears 
 a charmed life. The moment in which he is 
 killed proves fatal to some other creature, 
 either man or beast, whose mortal existence 
 is mysteriously linked with his. The nature 
 of the Otter monarchy has not been de- 
 scribed : it is evident, however, that his
 
 534 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 ministers have no loaves to dispose of, but 
 then they have plenty of fishes. 
 
 The Ant, who, when Solomon entered the 
 Valley of Ants with his armies of Genii and 
 men and birds, spoke to the nation of Ants, 
 saying, " O Ants, enter ye not your habita- 
 tions, lest Solomon and his host tread you 
 under foot, and perceive it not," that wise 
 pismire is said by certain commentators upon 
 the Koran to have been the Queen of the 
 Ants. 
 
 Men have held the Eagle to be the King 
 of Birds ; but, notwithstanding the authority 
 of Horace, the Gods know otherwise, for 
 they appointed the Tchamrosch to that dig- 
 nity, at the beginning. Some writers in- 
 deed would have the Eagle to be Queen, 
 upon the extraordinary ground that all 
 Eagles are hens ; though in what manner 
 the species is perpetuated these persons have 
 not attempted to show. 
 
 The Carrion Crows of Guiana have their 
 King, who is a White Crow (rara avis in 
 terris) and has wings tipt with black. When 
 a flight of these birds arrive at the prey 
 which they have scented from afar, however 
 ravenous they may be, they keep at a re- 
 spectful distance from the banquet, till his 
 Carrion Majesty has satisfied himself. But 
 there is another Bird, in South America, 
 whom all the Birds of prey of every species 
 acknowledge for their natural sovereign, 
 and carry food to him in his nest, as their 
 tribute. 
 
 The King of the Elks is so huge an elk 
 that other elks look like pismires beside him. 
 His legs are so long, and his strength withal 
 such, that when the snow lies eight feet deep 
 it does not in the least impede his pace. He 
 has an arm growing out of his shoulder, and 
 a large suite who attend upon him wherever 
 he goes, and render him all the service he 
 requires. 
 
 I have never heard anything concerning 
 the King of the Crickets except in a rodo- 
 montade of Matthew Merrygreeks, who, said 
 Ralph Roister Doister, 
 
 Bet him on Christinas day 
 That he crept in a hole, and had not a jyord to say. 
 
 Among the many images of Baal, one was 
 
 the form or representation of a Fly, and 
 hence, says Master Perkins, he is called 
 Baalzebub the Lord of Flies, because he was 
 thought to be the chiefest Fly in the world. 
 That is he was held to be the King of the 
 Flies. I wish the King of the Spiders would 
 catch him. 
 
 The King of the Peacocks may be read of 
 in the Fairy Tales. The Japanese name for 
 a crane is Tsuri, and the common people in 
 that country always give that bird the same 
 title which is given to their first secular Em- 
 peror, Tsiri-sama my great Lord Crane. 
 
 The Basilisk, or crowned Cockatrice, who 
 is the chief of a Cock's egg, is accounted the 
 King of Serpents. And as it has been said 
 that there is no Cock Eagle, so upon more 
 probable cause it is affirmed that there is no 
 female Basilisk, that is no Henatrice, the 
 Cock laying only male eggs. But the most 
 venomous of this kind is only an earthly and 
 mortal vicegerent, for the true King of Ser- 
 pents is named Sanc-ha-naga, and formerly 
 held his court in Chacragiri, a mountain in 
 the remote parts of the East, where he and 
 his serpentine subjects were oppressed by 
 the Rational Eagle Garuda. In the spirit of 
 an imperial Eagle, Garuda required from 
 them a serpent every day for his dinner, 
 which was regarded by the serpents as a 
 most unpleasant tribute, especially by such 
 as were full grown and in good condition ; 
 for the Rational Eagle being large and strong 
 enough to carry Vishnu on his back, ex- 
 pected always a good substantial snake suffi- 
 cient for a meal. Sanc-ha-naga, like a 
 Patriot King, endeavoured to deliver his 
 liege subjects from this consuming tyranny ; 
 the attempt drew upon him the wrath of 
 Garuda, which would soon have been fol- 
 lowed by his vengeance, and the King of 
 Serpents must have been devoured himself, 
 if he and all the snakes had not retired, as 
 fast as they could wriggle, to Sanc-ha-vana, 
 in Sanc-ha-dwip, which is between Cali and 
 the Sea ; there they found an asylum near 
 the palace of Carticeya, son of the mountain 
 goddess Parvats, and Commander of the 
 Celestial Armies. Carticeya is more power- 
 ful than Garuda, and therefore the divine
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 535 
 
 Eagle is too rational to invade them while 
 they are under his protection. It would 
 have been more fortunate for the world if the 
 King of Serpents had not found any one to 
 protect him ; for whatever his merits may 
 be towards his subjects, he is a most pestilent 
 Potentate, the breath of his nostrils is a 
 fiery wind which destroys and consumes all 
 creatures and all herbs within an hundred 
 yojanas of his abode, and which, in fact, is the 
 Simoom, so fatal to those who travel in the 
 deserts. The sage Agastya for a time put a 
 stop to this evil, for he, by the virtue of his 
 self-inflection, obtained such power, that he 
 \ caught Sanc-ha-naga, and carried him about 
 I in an earthen vessel. That vessel, however, 
 must have been broken in some unhappy 
 hour, for the fiery and poisonous wind is 
 now as frequent as ever in the deserts. 
 
 The Hindoos say that whoever performs 
 yearly and daily rites in honour of the King 
 of the Serpents will acquire immense 
 riches. This King of the Serpents, I say, 
 to wit Sanc'-ha-naga, (or Sane' ha-mucha, 
 as he is also called from the shape of his 
 mouth resembling that of a shell,) because 
 there is another King of the Serpents, 
 Karkotaka by name, whom the sage Narada 
 for deceiving him punished once by casting 
 him into a great fire, and confining him 
 there by a curse till he was delivered in the 
 manner which the reader may find related 
 in the 14th book of Nela and Damarante, 
 as translated by Mr. Milman from the 
 Sanscrit. 
 
 The Locusts according to Agur in the 
 Book of Proverbs have no King, although 
 they go forth all of them by bands. Perhaps 
 their form of government has changed, for 
 the Moors of Morocco inform us that they 
 have a sovereign, who leads forth their in- 
 numerable armies ; and as his nation belongs 
 to the Mahometan world, his title is Sultan 
 Jereed. 
 
 The Rose is the Queen of the Garden : 
 
 Plebci cedite floret; 
 Horlorum regina suof ostendit honorei. * 
 
 Bampficld Moore Carew was King of the 
 
 RAPIN. 
 
 Beggars; and James Bosvill was King of 
 the Gypsies. He lies buried in Rossington 
 Churchyard, near Doncaster, and for many 
 years the gypsies from the south visited his 
 grave annually, and among other rites poured 
 a flagon of ale upon it. 
 
 There was a personage at Oxford who 
 bore in that University the distinguished 
 title of Rex Rafforum. After taking his 
 degree he exchanged it for that of the 
 Reverend. 
 
 The Scurrce, (we have no word in our 
 language which designates men who profess 
 and delight in indulging an ill-mannered 
 and worse-minded buffoonery,) the Scurrce 
 also have their King. He bears a Baron's 
 coronet. 
 
 The throne of the Dandies has been vacant 
 since the resignation of the personage dig- 
 nified and distinguished by the title of Beau 
 Brummel. 
 
 By an advertisement in the Times of 
 Friday, June 18. 1830, I learn that the 
 beautiful and stupendous Bradwell Ox is 
 at present the " truly wonderful King of the 
 Pastures," the said King Ox measuring 
 fourteen feet in girth, and sixteen feet in 
 length, being eighteen hands high, and five 
 years and a half old, and weighing four 
 thousand five hundred pounds, or more than 
 five hundred and sixty stone, which is nearly 
 double the size of large oxen in general. 
 
 Under the Twelve Caesars (and probably 
 it might deserve the title long after them), 
 the Via Appia was called the Queen of 
 Roads. That from Hyde Park Corner is 
 Regina viarum in the 19th century. 
 
 Easter Sunday has been called the King 
 of Days, though Christmas Day might dis- 
 pute the sovereignty, being in Greek the 
 Queen day of the Kalendar. 'H fiaai\iaoa 
 ijfiipa Justin Martyr calls it. 
 
 Who is King of the Booksellers ? There is 
 no King among them at this time, but there 
 is a Directory of five Members, Longman, 
 Rees, Orme, Brown and Green in the East : 
 the Emperor Murraylemagne, whom Byron 
 used to call the Grand Murray, reigned 
 alone in the West, till Henry Colburn 
 divided his empire, and supported the sta-
 
 586 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 tion which he had assumed by an army of 
 
 your discernment, and your majesty to boot, 
 
 trumpeters which he keeps in constant pay. 
 
 to express myself as Whitfield or Rowland 
 
 If the Books had a King that monarchy 
 
 Hill would have done in such a case (for 
 
 must needs be an elective one, and the 
 
 they knew the force of language) I must 
 
 reader of these volumes knows where the 
 
 say, it would puzzle the Devil to tell. II 
 
 election would fall. But literature being a 
 
 faut librement avec verite francher ce mot, 
 
 Republic, this cannot be the King of Books. 
 
 sans en estre repris ; ou si Von est, c'est tres- 
 
 Suffice it that it is a BOOK FOR A KING, or, 
 
 mal a propos, 
 
 for our SOVEREIGN LADY THE QUEEN. 
 
 I will tell you what you are ; you are a 
 
 
 great, ugly, many-headed beast, with a great 
 
 i i I i_ j 1 i I 
 
 
 many ears which are long, hairy, ticklish, 
 
 
 moveable, erect, and never at rest. 
 
 INTERCHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Look at your picture in Southey's Hexa- 
 
 
 meters, that poem in which his laureated 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Doctorship writes verses by the yard instead 
 
 Le Plebe e bestia 
 
 of the foot, he describes you as "many- 
 
 Di cento teste, e non rinchiude in loro 
 
 headed and monstrous," 
 
 fur oncia di taper, CHIABRERA. 
 
 
 
 with numberless faces, 
 
 The Public, will, I very well know, make 
 
 Numberless bestial ears, erect to all rumours, and restless, 
 And with numberless mouths which are iill'd with lies as 
 
 free with me more suo, as it thinks it has a 
 
 with arrows. 
 
 right to do with any one who comes before 
 it with anything designed for its service, 
 whether it be for its amusement, its use, or 
 its instruction. Now, my Public, I will 
 more meo make free with you that we may 
 be so far upon equal terms : 
 
 Look at that Picture, my Public ! It is 
 very like you ! 
 For individual readers I profess just as 
 much respect as they individually deserve. 
 There are a few persons in every generation 
 for whose approbation, rather let it be 
 
 OiJw Si7Tj/rx" *>* 
 
 said for whose gratitude and love, it is 
 
 You have seldom or never had the truth 
 
 worth while "to live laborious days," and 
 
 spoken to you when you have been directly 
 addressed. You have been called the en- 
 
 for these readers of this generation and the 
 generations that are to follow, for these 
 
 lightened Public, the generous Public, the 
 
 Such as will join their profit with their pleasure, 
 
 judicious Public, the liberal Public, the 
 
 And come to feed their understanding parts ; 
 For these I'll prodigally spend myself, 
 
 discerning Public, and so forth. Nay your 
 
 And speak away my spirit into air ; 
 
 bare title THE PUBLIC oftentimes stands 
 
 For these I'll melt my brain into invention, 
 
 alone par excellence in its plain majesty like 
 
 Coin new conceits, and hang my richest words 
 As polished jewels in their bounteous ears.U 
 
 that of the king, as if needing no affix to 
 denote its inherent and pre-eminent im- 
 portance. But I will speak truth to you, 
 
 Such readers, they who to their learning 
 add knowledge, and to their knowledge 
 wisdom, and to their wisdom benevolence, 
 
 my Public. 
 
 will say to me, 
 
 ' 
 
 Be not deceived 1 I have no bended knees, 
 
 
 No supple tongue, no speeches steep'd in oil, 
 
 T O *a liyam, <rXu V ipuvu' i-ri v Xivuy 
 
 No candied flattery, nor honied words ! t 
 
 tfyarctftiv , tin ""A- 
 
 
 &6i? ecjravTa ut>i rxQeHs' 
 
 I must speak the truth to you, my Public, 
 
 us iyu fjLoi r>oz.'j> 
 
 Sincera veritil non vuol tacersi.% 
 
 xeit /JMr.fxv iSot Sn^Oiit taffr' KXoufxi. 
 rfo; Taj' Z (Upturn 8o.ppf,ffKf }.iy', u; - 
 
 Where your enlightenedness (if there be 
 
 T<S ftijl&rti <.f 
 
 such a word) consists, and your generosity, 
 
 But such readers are very few. Walter 
 
 and your judgment, and your liberality, and 
 
 Landor said that if ten such persons should 
 
 * EURIPIDES. t RANDOLPH'S ARISTIPPDS. 
 
 BRANTOME. :: BEN JONSON. 
 
 t CHIABRERA. 
 
 f ARISTOPHANES.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 537 
 
 approve his writings, he would call for a 
 division and count a majority. To please 
 them is to obtain an earnest of enduring 
 fame; for which, if it be worth anything, 
 no price can be too great. But for the 
 aggregate anything is good enough. Yes, 
 my Public, Mr. Hume's arithmetic, and Mr. 
 Brougham's logic, Lord Castlereagh's syn- 
 tax, Mr. Irving's religion, and Mr. Carlisle's 
 irreligion, the politics of the Edinburgh Re- 
 view, and the criticism of the Quarterly, 
 Thames water, Brewers' beer, Spanish loans, 
 old jokes, new constitutions, Irish eloquence, 
 Scotch metaphysics, Tom and Jerry, Zim- 
 merman on Solitude, Chancery Equity and 
 Old Bailey Law, Parliamentary wit, the 
 patriotism of a Whig Borough-monger, and 
 the consistency of a British cabinet ; Et sil 
 y a encore quelque chose d dire, je le tiens 
 pour dit. 
 
 Yes, my Public, 
 
 Nor would I you should look for other looks, 
 Gesture, or compliment from me. * 
 
 Minus dico quam vellem, et verba omninb 
 frigidiora hcec quam ut satis exprimant quod 
 concipio^: these and anything worse than 
 these, if worse than what is worse can be 
 imagined, will do for you. If there be any- 
 thing in infinite possibility more worthless 
 than these, more floccical-naucical, nihilish- 
 pilish, ass isal-ter uncial, more good for nothing 
 than good for nothingness itself, it is good 
 enough for you. 
 
 INTERCHAPTER XXII. 
 
 VARIETY Of STILES. 
 
 Qualis vir, talis oratio. 
 
 ERASMI ADAGIA. 
 
 AUTHORS are often classed, like painters, 
 according to the school in which they have 
 been trained, or to which they have attached 
 themselves. But it is not so easy to ascertain 
 this in literature as it is in painting ; and if 
 some of the critics who have thus endea- 
 voured to class them were sent to school 
 
 * BEN JONSON. 
 
 f 1'IITS MlRANDCLA. 
 
 themselves, and there whipt into a little more 
 learning, so many silly classifications of this 
 kind would not mislead those readers who 
 suppose, in the simplicity of their own good 
 faith, that no man presumes to write upon a 
 subject which he does not understand. 
 
 Stiles may with more accuracy be classed, 
 and for this purpose metals might be used 
 in literature as they are in heraldry. We 
 might speak of the golden stile, the silver, 
 the iron, the leaden, the pinchbeck and the 
 bronze. 
 
 Others there are which cannot be brought 
 under any of these appellations. There is 
 the Cyclopean stile, of which Johnson is the 
 great example ; the sparkling, or micacious, 
 possessed by Hazlitt, and much affected in 
 Reviews and Magazines ; the oleaginous, in 
 which Mr. Charles Butler bears the palm, 
 or more appropriately the olive branch : the 
 fulminating which is Walter Landor's, 
 whose conversation has been compared to 
 thunder and lightning ; the impenetrable 
 which is sometimes used by Mr. Coleridge ; 
 and the Jeremy-Benthamite, which cannot 
 with propriety be distinguished by any other 
 name than one derived from its unparalleled 
 and unparallelable author. 
 
 Ex stiloy says Erasmus, perpendimus in- 
 genium cujusque, omnemque mentis habitum ex 
 ipsd dictionis ratione conjectamus. Est enim 
 tumidi, stilus turgidus ; abjecti, humilis, exan- 
 guis ; asperi, scaber ; amarulenti, tristis ac 
 maledicus ; deliciis affluentis, picturatus ac 
 dvtsolutus ; Breviter, omne vita simulacrum, 
 omnis animi vis, in oratione perinde ut in 
 specula reprcesentatur, ac vel intima pectoris, 
 arcanis quibusdam vestigiis, deprehenduntur. 
 
 There is the lean stile, of which Nathaniel 
 Lardner, and William Coxe may be held up 
 as examples ; and there is the larded one, 
 exemplified in Bishop Andrewes, and in 
 Burton, the Anatomist of Melancholy ; 
 Jeremy Taylor's is both a flowery and a 
 fruitful stile : Harvey the Meditationist's a 
 weedy one. There are the hard and dry ; 
 the weak and watery ; the manly and the 
 womanly ; the juvenile and the anile ; the 
 round and the pointed ; the flashy and the 
 fiery ; the lucid and the opaque ; the lumi-
 
 538 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 nous and the tenebrous ; the continuous and 
 the disjointed. The washy and the slap- 
 dash are both much in vogue, especially in 
 magazines and reviews ; so are the barbed 
 and the venomed. The High-Slang stile is 
 exhibited in the Court Journal and in Mr. 
 Col burn's novels; the Low- Slang in Tom 
 and Jerry, Bell's Life in London, and most 
 Magazines, those especially which are of 
 most pretensions. 
 
 The flatulent stile, the feverish, the aguish, 
 and the atrabilious, are all as common as the 
 diseases of body from which they take their 
 name, and of mind in which they originate ; 
 and not less common than either is the dys- 
 peptic stile, proceeding from a weakness in 
 the digestive faculty. 
 
 Learned, or if not learned, Dear Reader, 
 I had much to say of stile, but the under 
 written passage from that beautiful book, 
 Xenophon's Memorabilia Socratis, has in- 
 duced me, as the Latins say, stilum vertere, 
 and to erase a paragraph written with ink 
 in which the gall predominated. 
 
 i xxi etvrts, 'AtnifSt, caffxi^ ci\>.i; rif r, wxia 
 S ) xvvi >i SgriBt r,Strnu, OVTCO xxi ITI ^taXXw rfo/jMi 
 I\eis ayxBoif xxi, lay TI fw a.ya.6in ^I'&xffxta, x.ot.1 
 
 ' at 
 
 li; otflTW' xxi rdu; ffrjirxiifov; rat XK\OU trftfSv 
 ivt7roi XK-riKixov Ir /3//3X/f yfaifitn;, anti-man x 
 - xx.i 0.1 TI o(/u.tt ayaBon, i 
 
 INTERCHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 A LITTLE ADVICE BESTOWED TJPON THE 
 SCORNFUL READER IN A SHORT INTER- 
 CHAPTER. 
 
 No man is so foolish but may give another good counsel 
 sometimes ; and no man is so wise, but may easily err, if 
 lie will take no other's counsel but his own. 
 
 BEN JONSON. 
 
 I WILL now bestow a little advice upon the 
 scornful reader. 
 
 "And who the Devil are you," exclaims 
 that reader, "who are impertinent enough 
 to offer your advice, and fool enough to sup- 
 pose that I shall listen to it ? " 
 
 " Whatever your opinion may be, Sir, con- 
 cerning an Evil Principle, whether you hold 
 
 with the thorough -paced Liberals, that there 
 is no Principle at all, (and in one sense, ex- 
 emplify this in your own conduct,) or with 
 the Unitarians that there is no Evil one ; or 
 whether you incline to the Manichean scheme 
 of Two Principles, which is said to have its 
 advocates, in either case the diabolical ex- 
 pletive in your speech is alike reprehensible : 
 you deserve a reprimand for it ; and you are 
 hereby reprimanded accordingly. Having 
 discharged this duty, I answer your question 
 in the words of Terence, with which I doubt 
 not you are acquainted, because they are to 
 be found in the Eton grammar : Homo sum, 
 nihil humani a me alienum puto." 
 
 " And what the Devil have the words of 
 Terence to do with my query ? " 
 
 " You are again reprimanded, Sir. If it be 
 a bad thing to have the Devil at one's elbow, 
 it cannot be a good one to have him at one's 
 tongue's end. The sentence is sufficiently 
 applicable. It is a humane thing to offer 
 advice where it is wanted, and a very humane 
 thing to write and publish a book which is 
 intended to be either useful or delightful to 
 those who read it. " 
 
 " A humane thing to write a book ! 
 Martin of Galway's humanity is not a better 
 joke than that ! " 
 
 " Martin of Galway's humanity is no joke, 
 Sir. He has begun a good work, and will 
 be remembered for it with that honour 
 which is due to all who have endeavoured 
 to lessen the sum of suffering and wickedness 
 in this wicked world." 
 
 " Answer me one question, Mr. Author, if 
 you please. If your book is intended to be 
 either useful or delightful, why have you 
 filled it with such a parcel of nonsense ? " 
 
 " What you are pleased to call by that 
 name, Mr. Reader, may be either sense or 
 nonsense according to the understanding 
 which it meets with. Quicquid recipitur, 
 recipitur in modum recipientis. Look in the 
 seventh Chapter of the second book of 
 Esdras, and at the twenty-fifth verse you 
 will find the solution of your demand." 
 
 "And do you suppose I shall take the 
 trouble of looking into the Bible to please 
 the humour of such a fellow as you ?"
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 539 
 
 " If you do not, Sir, there are others who 
 will ; and more good may arise from looking 
 into that book, even upon such an occasion, 
 than either they or I can anticipate." 
 
 And so, scornful reader, wishing thee a 
 better mind, and an enlightened under- 
 standing, I bid thee gladly and heartily 
 farewell ! 
 
 PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH VOLUME.* 
 
 INVENIAS ETIAM DISJECT! MEMBRA POET.35. 
 
 THE present Volume contains all that it is 
 thought advisable to publish of the Papers 
 and Fragments for THE DOCTOR, &c. Some 
 of these Papers, as in the former Volume, 
 were written out fair and ready for Publica- 
 tion but the order, and the arrangement 
 intended is altogether unknown. 
 
 I have taken care to examine the different 
 extracts, and occasionally I have added a 
 note or an explanation, where such seemed 
 to be needed. The whole has been printed 
 
 with scrupulous exactness from the MSS. 
 The Epilude of Mottoes is a selection from 
 such as had not been used in the body 
 of the work. Some of them may possibly 
 have been quoted before but if so, it has 
 escaped my recollection. 
 
 Mifti dulcet 
 
 Ignoscent, si quid peccdro stnltus. amid, 
 Inque vicem illorum patiar delicla libenter. 
 
 JOHN WOOD WARTER. 
 
 Vicarage, West-Tarring, Sussex. 
 Sept. Uth, 1847. 
 
 CHAPTER CGI. 
 
 QUESTION CONCERNING THE USE OF TONGUES. 
 THE ATHANASIAN CONFESSORS. GIBBON'S 
 RELATION OF THE SUPPOSED MIRACLE OF 
 TONGUES. THE FACTS SHOWN TO BE TRUE, 
 THE MIRACLE IMAGINARY, AND THE HIS- 
 TORIAN THE DUPE OF HIS OWN UNBELIEF. 
 
 Perseveremus, peractis qu(E rem continebant, scrutari 
 etiam ea qute, si vis verum, connexa sunt, non cohcerentia; 
 quce quisquis ditigentcr inspirit, necjacit operte prtstium, 
 nee tu/iiot perdit operam. SENECA. 
 
 FOR what use were our tongues given us ? 
 " To speak with, to be sure," will be the 
 immediate reply of many a reader. But 
 Master, Mistress, Miss or Master Speaker, 
 (whichever you may happen to be,) I beg 
 leave to observe that this is only one of the 
 uses for which that member was formed, 
 and that for this alone it has deserved to be 
 called an unruly member ; it is not its 
 primary, nor by any means its most im- 
 portant use. For what use was it given to 
 
 L 
 
 This refers to Vol. vil. of the edition In 8vo. 
 
 thy labourer the ox, thy servant the horse, 
 thy friend, if thou deservest to have such 
 a friend, the dog, thy playfellow the 
 kitten, and thy cousin the monkey ? f 
 
 In another place I shall answer my own 
 question, which was asked in this place, 
 because it is for my present purpose to make 
 it appear that the tongue, although a very 
 convenient instrument of speech, is not 
 necessary for it. 
 
 It is related in Gibbon's great history, a 
 work which can never be too highly praised 
 for its ability, nor too severely condemned 
 for the false philosophy which pervades it, 
 that the Catholics, inhabitants of Tipasa, a 
 maritime colony of Mauritania, were by 
 command of the Arian King, Hunneric, 
 Genseric's detestable son and successor, 
 assembled on the forum, and there deprived 
 of their right hands and their tongues. 
 "But the holy confessors," he proceeds to 
 say, " continued to speak without tongues ; 
 
 t Simla quam shnilis, turpUeima bestia notis. 
 
 ENNIUB.
 
 540 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 and this miracle is attested by Victor, an 
 African bishop, who published an history of 
 the persecution within two years after the 
 event. 'If any one,' says Victor, 'should 
 doubt of the truth, let him repair to Con- 
 stantinople, and listen to the clear and 
 perfect language of Restitutus, the sub- 
 deacon, one of these glorious sufferers, who 
 is now lodged in the palace of the Emperor 
 Zeno, and is respected by the devout Em- 
 press.' At Constantinople we are astonished 
 to find a cool, a learned, an unexceptionable 
 witness, without interest and without passion, 
 ^neas of Gaza, a Platonic philosopher, has 
 accurately described his own observations 
 on these African sufferers. 'I saw them 
 myself: I heard them speak: I diligently 
 inquired by what means such an articulate 
 voice could be formed without any organ of 
 speech : I used my eyes to examine the 
 report of my ears : I opened their mouth, 
 and saw that the whole tongue had been 
 completely torn away by the roots ; an 
 operation which the physicians generally 
 suppose to be mortal.' The testimony of 
 .ZEneas of Gaza might be confirmed by the 
 superfluous evidence of the Emperor Jus- 
 tinian, in a perpetual edict ; of Count 
 Marcellinus in his Chronicles of the times ; 
 and of Pope Gregory the First, who had 
 resided at Constantinople as the minister of 
 the Roman Pontiff. They all lived within 
 the compass of a century, and they all 
 appeal to their personal knowledge, or the 
 public notoriety, for the truth of a miracle, 
 which was repeated in several instances, 
 displayed on the greatest theatre of the 
 world, and submitted during a series of 
 years, to the calm examination of the senses." 
 He adds in a note that " the miracle is 
 enhanced by the singular instance of a boy 
 who had never spoken before his tongue was 
 cut out." 
 
 Now comes the unbelieving historian's 
 comment. He says, " this supernatural gift 
 of the African confessors, who spoke without 
 tongues, will command the assent of those, 
 and of those only, who already believe, that 
 their language was pure and orthodox. 
 But the stubborn mind of nn infidel is 
 
 guarded by secret, incurable suspicion ; and 
 the Arian, or Socinian, who has seriously 
 rejected the doctrines of the Trinity, will 
 not be shaken by the most plausible evi- 
 dence of an Athanasian miracle." 
 
 Well has the sceptical historian applied 
 the epithet stubborn to a mind affected with 
 the same disease as his own. 
 
 Oh dear unbelief 
 
 How wealthy dost thou make thy owner's wit ! 
 Thou train of knowledge, what a privilege 
 Thou givest to thy possessor ! anchorest him 
 From floating with the tide of vulgar faith, 
 From being damn'd with multitudes 1 * 
 
 Gibbon would not believe the story because 
 it had been adduced as a miracle in con- 
 firmation of the Catholic doctrine as opposed 
 to the Arian heresy. He might probably 
 have questioned the relation between the 
 alleged miracle and the doctrine : and if he 
 had argued that it is not consistent with the 
 plan of revelation (so far as we may pre- 
 sume to reason upon it) for a miracle to be 
 wrought in proof of a doctrinal point, a 
 Christian who believes sincerely in that very 
 doctrine might agree with him. 
 
 But the circumstances are attested, as he 
 fairly admits, by the most ample and un- 
 exceptionable testimony ; and like the Pla- 
 tonic philosopher whose evidence he quotes, 
 he ought to have considered the matter of 
 fact, without regard to the application which 
 the Catholics, in perfect good faith, made 
 of it. The story is true, but it is not 
 miraculous. 
 
 Cases which demonstrate the latter part 
 of this question were known to physiologists 
 before a book was published at Paris in the 
 year 1765, the title of which I find in Mr. 
 D'Israeli's Curiosities of Literature, thus 
 translated ; " The Christian Religion proved 
 by a single fact ; or a Dissertation in which 
 is shown that those Catholics whose tongues 
 Hunneric King of the Vandals cut out, 
 spoke miraculously all the remainder of 
 their days : from whence is deduced the 
 consequence of the miracle against the 
 Arians, the Socinians and the Deists, and 
 particularly against the author of Emilius, 
 
 * MARSTON.
 
 THE DOCTOR, 
 
 by solving their difficulties." It bears this 
 motto, Ecce Ego admirationcm facio populo 
 huic, miracvlo grandi et stupendo. And Mr. 
 DTsraeli closes his notice of the Book by 
 saying " there needs no farther account of 
 it than the title." That gentleman, who has 
 contributed so much to the instruction and 
 entertainment of his contemporaries, will I 
 am sure be pleased at perusing the facts in 
 disproof of the alleged miracle, brought 
 together here by one who as a Christian 
 believes in miracles and that they have not 
 ceased, and that they never will cease. 
 
 In the Philosophical Transactions, and in 
 the Gentleman's Magazine, is an account of 
 a woman, Margaret Cutting by name, who 
 about the middle of the last century was 
 living at Wickham Market in Suffolk. 
 When she was four years of age " a cancer 
 ate off her tongue at the root, yet she never 
 lost the power of speech, and could both 
 read distinctly afterwards and sing." Her 
 speech was very intelligible, but it was a 
 little through the nose owing to the want of 
 the uvula; and her voice was low. In this 
 case a new tongue had been formed, about 
 an inch and half in length and half an inch 
 broad ; but this did not grow till some years 
 after the cure. 
 
 Upon the publication of this case it was 
 observed that some few instances of a like 
 nature had been recorded : and one in par- 
 ticular by Tulpius of a man whom he had 
 himself examined, who, having had his 
 tongue cut out by the Turks, could after 
 three years speak distinctly. One of the 
 persons who published an account of this 
 woman saw several men upon whom the 
 same act of cruelty had been committed by 
 these barbarians or by the Algerines : " one 
 of them," says he, " aged thirty-three, 
 wrote a good hand, and by that means 
 answered my questions. ' He informed me 
 that he could not pronounce a syllable, nor 
 make any articulate sound ; though he had 
 often observed that those who suffered that 
 treatment when they were very young, 
 were some years after able to speak ; and 
 that their tongues might be observed to 
 grow in proportion to the other parts of the 
 
 body : but that if they were adults, or full- 
 grown persons, at the time of the operation, 
 they were never able to utter a syllable. 
 The truth of this observation was confirmed 
 to me by the two following cases. Patrick 
 Strainer and his son-in-law came to Harwich, 
 in their way to Holland, the third of this 
 month. I made it my business to see and 
 examine them. The father told me he had 
 his tongue cut out by the Algerines, when he 
 was seven years of age : and that some time 
 after he was able to pronounce many sylla- 
 bles, and can now speak most words toler- 
 ably well ; his tongue, he said, was grown at 
 least half an inch. The son-in-law, who is 
 about thirty years of age, was taken by the 
 Turks, who cut out his tongue ; he cannot 
 pronounce a syllable ; nor is his tongue 
 grown at all since the operation ; which was 
 more than five years ago." 
 
 Sir John Malcolm, in one of his visits to 
 Persia, became acquainted with Zal Khan 
 of Khist, who " was long distinguished as 
 one of the bravest and most attached 
 followers of the Zend family. When the 
 death of Lootf AH Khan terminated its 
 powers, he, along with the other governors of 
 provinces and districts in Furs, submitted 
 to Aza Mahomed Khan. That cautious and 
 cruel monarch, dreading the ability, and 
 doubtful of the allegiance of this chief, 
 ordered his eyes to be put out. An appeal 
 for the recall of the sentence being treated 
 with disdain, Zal Khan loaded the tyrant 
 with curses. 'Cut out his tongue,' was the 
 second order. The mandate was imperfectly 
 executed, and the loss of half this member 
 deprived him of speech. Being afterwards 
 persuaded that its being cut close to the 
 root would enable him to speak so as to be 
 understood, he submitted to the operation ; 
 and the effect has been, that his voice, 
 though indistinct and thick, is yet intel- 
 ligible to persons accustomed to converse 
 with him. This I experienced from daily 
 intercourse. He often spoke to me of his 
 sufferings and of the humanity of the present 
 King, who had restored him to his situation 
 as head of his tribe, and governor of Khist. 
 I am not an anatomist," Sir John adds,
 
 542 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 " and cannot therefore give a reason why a 
 man, who could not articulate with half a 
 tongue, should speak when he had none at 
 all. But the facts are as stated ; and I had 
 them from the very best authority, old Zal 
 Khan himself." * 
 
 A case occurred in the household of that 
 Dr. Mark Duncan whom our James I. 
 would have engaged as his Physician in 
 ordinary, but Duncan having married at 
 Saumur and settled in that city declined the 
 invitation, because his wife was unwilling to 
 leave her friends and relations and her 
 native place. Yielding therefore, as became 
 him, to her natural and reasonable reluctance, 
 he passed the remainder of his useful and 
 honourable life at Saumur. It is noticed as 
 a remarkable circumstance that the five 
 persons of whom his family consisted died 
 and were interred in as many different king- 
 doms, one in France, another at Naples, a 
 third at Stockholm, a fourth in London, 
 and the fifth in Ireland. A son of Duncan's 
 valet, in his thirteenth year, lost his tongue 
 by the effects of the small-pox, the root 
 being so consumed by this dreadful disease, 
 that in a fit of coughing it came away. The 
 boy's speech was no otherwise affected by 
 the loss than that he found it difficult to 
 pronounce the letter r. He was exhibited 
 throughout Europe, and lived long after- 
 wards. A surgeon at Saumur composed a 
 treatise upon the case, and Duncan, who was 
 then Principal of the College in that city, 
 supplied him with this title for it Aglosso- 
 
 * This account of Zal Khan (Mrs. Southey writes me 
 word) was farther confirmed by the testimony of Mr. 
 Bruce, her relative, who knew him and had looked into 
 the tongue-less mouth. Mr. Bruce wa< well acquainted 
 with another person who had undergone the same cruel 
 punishment. Being a wealthy man, he bribed the exe- 
 cutioner to spare a considerable portion of the tongue ; 
 but finding that he could not articulate a word with the 
 imperfect member, he had it entirely extracted root 
 and all, and then spoke almost as intelligibly as before his 
 punishment. 
 
 This person was well known at Calcutta, as well as at 
 Bushire and Shiraz where Mr. Bruce first became ac. 
 quainted with him. He was a man of some consequence 
 and received as such in the first circles at Calcutta, and it 
 was inoneofthose a dinner party that on the question 
 being warmly argued as to the possibility of articulation 
 after the extraction of the tongue, he opened his mouth 
 and desired the company assembled to look into it, and so 
 set their doubts on the matter for ever at rest. 
 
 stomographie. A rival physician published 
 a dissertation to prove that it ought to be 
 Aglossostomatographie, and he placed these 
 verses at the conclusion of this odd treatise. 
 
 Lecteur, tu fesmerve illeras 
 Qu'un garfon qui n'a point df langue, 
 Prononce bfen une harangue; 
 Mais bien plus tu t'estunneras 
 Qu'un barbier que ne Sfait pas lire 
 Le greCj se mesle d'en escrire. 
 Que si ce plaisant epigramme, 
 Doux fruit d'un penser fie man ante 
 Te semble n'aller pas tant mal, 
 Cat queje Faifait A c/ieval. 
 Qwlques gens matins changerent le dernier vers dans 
 
 les exemplaires qu'ils parent trouver, et y mirent Celt 
 
 queje Faifait en cheval. 
 
 The reader who thinks upon what he 
 reads, will find some materials for thinking 
 on, in what has here been collected for him. 
 First as to the physical facts : they show 
 that the power of reproduction exists in the 
 human body, in a greater degree than has 
 been commonly supposed. But it is pro- 
 bable that this power would be found only 
 in young subjects, or in adults whose con- 
 stitutions were unusually healthful and 
 vigorous. A very small proportion of the 
 snails which have been decapitated by ex- 
 perimental physiologists have reproduced 
 their heads ; though the fact of such re- 
 production is certainly established. 
 
 Rhazes records two cases which had fallen 
 under his own observation ; in one of which 
 the tibia, in the other the under-jaw, had 
 been reproduced; neither acquired the 
 consistency of the other bones. The Doctor 
 used to adduce these cases in support of a 
 favourite theory of his own, with which 
 the reader will ill due time be made ac- 
 quainted. 
 
 Secondly, there is a moral inference to be 
 drawn from the effect which the story pro- 
 duced upon Gibbon. He could not in- 
 validate, or dispute the testimony upon 
 which it came before him ; but he chose to 
 disbelieve it. For he was ignorant that the 
 facts might be physically true, and he would 
 not on any evidence give credit to what 
 appeared miraculous. A stubborn mind 
 conduces as little to wisdom, or even to 
 knowledge, as a stubborn temper to hap- 
 piness.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 543 
 
 CHAPTER CCII. 
 
 A. LAW OF ALFRED'S AGAINST LYING TONGUES. 
 OBSERVATIONS ON LAX ONES. 
 
 As I have gained no small satisfaction to myself, so I 
 am desirous that nothing that occurs here may occasion 
 the least dissatisfaction to others. And I think it will be 
 impossible anything should, if they will be but pleased to 
 take notice of my design. HENRY MOBE. 
 
 IF the laws of our great Alfred, whose 
 memory is held in such veneration by all 
 who are well acquainted with his history, 
 and his extraordinary virtues, and whose 
 name has been so often taken in vain by 
 speculative reformers who were ignorant of 
 the one, and incapable of estimating the 
 other; if the laws of Alfred, I say, had 
 continued in use, everything relating to the 
 reproduction of human tongues would long 
 before this time have been thoroughly un- 
 derstood ; for by those laws any one who 
 broached a public falsehood, and persisted 
 in it, was to have his tongue cut out ; and 
 this punishment might not be commuted for 
 any smaller fine than that at which the life of 
 the criminal would have been rated. 
 The words of the law are these : 
 
 DE RUMORJBUS FICTIT1IS. 
 
 Si quis publicmn mendacium confingat, et 
 ille in eo firmetur, nuttu levi re hoc emendet, 
 sed lingua ei excidatur; nee minori precio 
 redimi liceat, quam juxta capitis CEstimationem 
 censebatur. 
 
 What a wholesome effect might such a 
 law have produced upon orators at public 
 meetings, upon the periodical press, and 
 upon the debates in Parliament. 
 
 " I am charmed," says Lady M. W. Mon- 
 taue, "with many points of the Turkish 
 law, to our shame be it spoken, better de- 
 signed and better executed than ours ; par- 
 ticularly the punishment of convicted liars 
 (triumphant criminals in our country, God 
 knows !) : they are burnt in the forehead 
 with a hot iron, when they are proved the 
 authors of any notorious falsehoods. How 
 many white foreheads should we see dis- 
 figured, how many fine gentlemen would 
 be forced to wear their wigs as low as their 
 
 eyebrows, were this law in practice with 
 us !" 
 
 But who can expect that human laws 
 should correct that propensity in the wicked 
 tongue! They who have "the poison of 
 asps under their lips," and " which have said 
 with our tongues will we prevail ; we are 
 they that ought to speak : who is lord over 
 us?" they who "love to speak all words 
 that may do hurt, and who cut with lies like 
 a sharp razor" what would they care for 
 enactments which they would think either 
 to evade by their subtlety, or to defy in the 
 confidence of their numbers and their 
 strength ? Is it to be expected that those 
 men should regard the laws of their country, 
 who set at nought the denunciations of 
 scripture, and will not "keep their tongues 
 from evil, and their lips that they speak no 
 guile," though they have been told that it is 
 " he who hath used no deceit in his tongue 
 and hath not slandered his neighbour, who 
 shall dwell in the tabernacle of the Lord, 
 and rest upon his holy hill ! " 
 
 Leave we them to their reward, which is 
 as certain as that men shall be judged 
 according to their deeds. Our business is 
 with the follies of the unruly member, not 
 with its sins : with loquacious speakers and 
 verbose writers, those whose " tongues are 
 gentelmen-ushers to their wit, and still go 
 before it,"* who never having studied the 
 exponibilia, practise the art of battology by 
 intuition ; and in a discourse which might 
 make the woeful hearer begin to fear that 
 he had entered unawares upon eternity, 
 bring forth, " as a man would say in a word 
 of two syllables, nothing." * The West 
 Britons had in their own Cornish langunpe 
 this good proverbial rhyme, (the graphy 
 whereof, be it ortho or not is Mr. Pol- 
 whele's,) 
 
 An lavor goth ewe. lavar gwir, 
 tie vedn nevera doaz vas a tavaz re hfr. 
 
 The old saying is a true saying, 
 Never will come good from a tongue too long. 
 
 Oh it is a grievous thing to listen, or seem 
 to listen as one is constrained to do, some- 
 
 SEN JONSON.
 
 544 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 times by the courtesy of society, and some- 
 times by "the law of sermon," to an un- 
 merciful manufacturer of speech, who before 
 he ever arrives at the empty matter of his 
 discourse, 
 
 no puede dezar de dectr 
 
 antes, sigutera 
 quatro, o cinco mil palabras ! 
 
 Vossius mentions three authors, who, to 
 use Bayle's language, for in Bayle the 
 extract is found, enfermaient de grands riens 
 dans une grande multitude de paroles. Anaxi- 
 menes the orator was one ; when he was 
 about to speak, Theocritus of Chios said, 
 " here begins a river of words and a drop of 
 sense," "Apxtrai Xt&wv fiiv Trcnapuc, vov fe 
 ffraXajfing. Longolius, an orator of the 
 Lower Empire, was the second. The third 
 was Faustus Andrelinus, Professor of Poetry 
 at Paris, and Poeta Laureatus : of him 
 Erasmus dicitur dixisse, is said to have 
 said, that there was but one thing wanting 
 in all his poems, and that thing was com- 
 prised in one word of one syllable, NOT2. 
 
 It were better to be remembered as Bayle 
 has remembered Petrus Carmilianus, because 
 of the profound obscurity in which this 
 pitiful poet was buried, than thus to be 
 thought worthy of remembi'ance only for 
 having produced a great deal that deserved 
 to be forgotten. There is, or was, an officer 
 of the Exchequer called Clericus Nihilorum, 
 or Clerk of the Nihils. If there were a 
 High Court of Literature with such an 
 officer on its establishment, it would be no 
 sinecure office for him in these, or in any 
 days, to register the names of those authors 
 who have written to no purpose, and the 
 titles of those books from which nothing is 
 to be learned. 
 
 On, ne vid jamais, says the Sieur de 
 Brocourt, homme qui ne die plustost trop, que 
 mains quHil ne doit ; et jamais parole proferee 
 ne seroit tant, comme plusieurs teues ont 
 profile ; car tousjours pouvons-nous bien dire 
 ce qtfaoons ten, et non pas taire ce qrfavons 
 public. The latter part of this remark is 
 true ; the former is far too general. For 
 
 * CALDF.RON. 
 
 more harm is done in public life by the 
 reticence of well-informed men, than by the 
 loquacity of sciolists ; more by the timidity 
 and caution of those who desire at heart the 
 good of their country, than by the audacity 
 of those who labour to overthrow its con- 
 stitutions. It was said in the days of old, 
 that " a man full of words shall not prosper 
 upon the earth." Mais nous aeons change 
 tout cela.-\ 
 
 Even in literature a leafy style, if there 
 be any fruit under the foliage, is preferable 
 to a knotty one, however fine the grain. 
 Whipt cream is a good thing ; and better 
 still when it covers and adorns that amiable 
 combination of sweetmeats and ratafia cakes 
 soaked in wine, to which Cowper likened his 
 delightful poem, when he thus described the 
 " Task." " It is a medley of many things, 
 some that may be useful, and some that, for 
 aught I know, may be very diverting. I am 
 merry that I may decoy people into my 
 company, and grave that they may be the 
 better for it. Now and then I put on the 
 garb of a philosopher, and take the oppor- 
 tunity that disguise procures me, to drop a 
 word in favour of religion. In short, there 
 is some froth, and here and there a bit of 
 sweetmeat, which seems to entitle it justly 
 to the name of a certain dish the ladies call 
 a Trifle." But in Task or Trifle unless the 
 ingredients were good, the whole were 
 nought. They who should present to their 
 deceived guests whipt white of egg would 
 deserve to be whipt themselves. 
 
 If there be any one who begins to suspect 
 that in tasking myself, and trifling with my 
 reader, my intent is not unlike Cowper's, he 
 will allow me to say to him, " by your leave, 
 Master Critic, you must give me licence to 
 flourish my phrases, to embellish my lines, 
 to adorn my oratory, to embroider my 
 speeches, to interlace my words, to draw out 
 my sayings, and to bombard the whole suit 
 of the business for the time of your 
 wearin." 
 
 t See Remarks on Mr. Evans's Third Series of Scrip- 
 ture Biography: " MOSES," p. 43. 
 t TAYLOR, the Water Poet.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 545 
 
 CHAPTER CCIII. 
 
 WHETHER A MAN AND HIMSELF BE TWO. 
 MAXIM OF BAYLE'S. ADAM LITTLETON'S 
 
 SERMONS, A EIGHT-HEARTED OI-D DIVINE 
 
 WITH WHOM THE AUTHOR HOPES TO BE 
 BETTER ACQUAINTED IN A BETTER WORLD. 
 THE READER REFERRED TO HIM FOR EDI- 
 FICATION. WHY THE AUTHOR PURCHASED 
 HIS SERMONS. 
 
 Parullci. Go to, thou art a witty fool, I have found 
 thee. 
 
 Clown. Did you find me in yourself, Sir ? or were you 
 taught to find me ? The search, Sir, was profitable ; and 
 much fool may you find in you, even to the world's plea- 
 sure and the increase of laughter. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 " \VHETHER this author means to make his 
 Doctor more fool or philosopher, is more 
 than I can discover," says a grave reader, 
 who lays down the open book, and knits his 
 brow while he considers the question. 
 
 Make him, good Reader ! I, make him ! 
 
 make " the noblest work of " But as i 
 
 the Spaniards say, el creer es cortesia, and it 
 is at your pleasure either to believe the 
 veracity of these biographical sketches, or to ' 
 regard them as altogether fictitious. It is at , 
 your pleasure, I say ; not at your peril : ; 
 but take heed how you exercise that ; 
 pleasure in cases which are perilous ! The 
 worst that can happen to you for disbelief 
 in this matter is, that I shall give you little 
 credit for courtesy, and less for discrimina- 
 tion ; and in Doncaster you will be laughed 
 to scorn. You might as well proclaim at 
 Coventry your disbelief in the history of 
 Lady Godiva and Peeping Tom ; or tell the 
 Swiss that their tale of shooting the apple 
 on the child's head was an old story before 
 William Tell was born. 
 
 But perhaps you did not mean to express 
 any such groundless incredulity, your doubt 
 may be whether I represent or consider my 
 friend as having in his character a larger 
 portion of folly or of philosophy ? 
 
 This you might determine, Reader, for 
 yourself, if I could succeed in delineating 
 him to the life, the inner 1 mean, not the 
 outward man, 
 
 Et en pett de papier, comme sur un tableau. 
 
 Vtnts pourtraire au naif tout son boa, et son beau.* 
 
 He was the soul of goodness, 
 And all our praises of him are like streams 
 Drawn from a spring, that still rise full, and leave 
 The part remaining greatest. 
 
 But the Duchess of Newcastle hath decided 
 in her philosophy that it is not possible for 
 any one person thoroughly to understand 
 the character of another. In her own words, 
 "if the Mind was not joined and mixed 
 with the sensitive and inanimate parts, and 
 had not interior as well as exterior parts, 
 the whole Mind of one man might perceive 
 the whole Mind of another man ; but that 
 being not possible one whole Mind cannot 
 perceive another whole Mind." By which 
 observation we may perceive there are no 
 Platonic Lovers in Nature. An odd con- 
 clusion of her Grace's, and from odd pre- 
 mises. But she was an odd personage. 
 
 So far, however, the beautiful and fanciful 
 as well as fantastic Duchess is right, that 
 the more congenial the disposition of two 
 persons who stand upon the same intel- 
 lectual level, the better they understand 
 each other. The lower any one is sunk in 
 animal life, the less is he capable of ap- 
 prehending the motives and views of those 
 who have cultivated the better part of their 
 nature. 
 
 If I am so unfortunate as to fail in pro- 
 ducing the moral likeness which I am en- 
 deavouring to pourtray, it will not be owing 
 to any want of sympathy with the subject in 
 some of the most marked features of his 
 character. 
 
 It is a maxim of Bayle's, Qu'il n'y a point 
 de grand esprit dans le caractere du quel il 
 rfentre un pen de folie. And he named 
 Diogenes as one proof of this. Think indeed 
 somewhat more than a little upon the words 
 folly and philosophy, and if you can see any 
 way into a mist, or a stone wall, you will 
 perceive that the same radicals are found in 
 both. 
 
 This sort of mixed character was never 
 more whimsically described than by Andrew 
 
 * PASQl'lBl.
 
 S4G 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Erskine in one of his letters to Boswell, in 
 which he tells him, "since I saw you I 
 
 received a letter from Mr. D ; it is 
 
 filled with encomiums upon you ; he says 
 there is a great deal of humility in your 
 vanity, a great deal of tallness in your 
 shortness, and a great deal of whiteness in 
 your black complexion. He says there's a 
 great deal of poetry in your prose, and a 
 great deal of prose in your poetry. He says 
 that as to your late publication, there is a 
 great deal of Ode in your Dedication, and 
 a great deal of Dedication in your Ode. He 
 says there is a great deal of coat in your 
 waistcoat, and a great deal of waistcoat in 
 your coat, that there is a great deal of live- 
 liness in your stupidity, and a great deal of 
 stupidity in your liveliness. But to write 
 you all he says would require rather more 
 fire in my grate than there is at present, and 
 my fingers would undoubtedly be numbed, 
 for there is a great deal of snow in this 
 frost, and a great deal of frost in this 
 snow." 
 
 The Marquis de Custine in a book which 
 in all its parts, wise or foolish, strikingly 
 characterises its author, describes himself 
 thus : J'ai un melange de gravite et de 
 legerete qui ntempechera de devenir aidre 
 chose quun vieil enfant bien triste. Sije suis 
 destine d eprouver de grands malheurs, 
 faurai ^occasion de remercier Dieu de 
 m avoir fait naitre avec cette disposition a la 
 fois serieuse et frivole : le serieux maidera d 
 me parser du monde f ' enfantillage d sup- 
 porter le douleur. C'est d quoi il reussit 
 mieux que la raison. 
 
 Un pen de folie there certainly was in the 
 grand esprit of my dear master, and more 
 than un pen there is in his faithful pupil. 
 But I shall not enter into a discussion 
 whether the gravity of which the Marquis 
 speaks preponderated in his character, or 
 whether it was more than counterpoised by 
 the levity. Enough of the latter, thank 
 Heaven ! enters into my own composition not 
 only to preserve me from becoming un vieil 
 enfant bien triste, but to entitle me in all 
 innocent acceptance of the phrase to the 
 appellation of a merry old boy, that is to 
 
 say, merry at becoming times, there being a 
 time for all things. I shall not enter into 
 the discussion as it concerns my guide, phi- 
 losopher and friend, because it would be 
 altogether unnecessary; he carried ballast 
 enough, whatever I may do. The elements 
 were so happily mixed in him that though 
 Nature did not stand up and say to all the 
 world "this is a man," because such a 
 miracle could neither be in the order of 
 Nature or of Providence ; I have thought 
 it my duty to sit down and say to the public 
 this was a Doctor. 
 
 There is another reason why I shall 
 refrain from any such inquiry ; and that 
 reason may be aptly given in the words of a 
 right-hearted old divine, with whom certain 
 congenialities would lead my friend to be- 
 come acquainted in that world, where I also 
 hope in due season to meet and converse 
 with him. 
 
 " People," says Adam Littleton, " are 
 generally too forward in examining others, 
 and are so taken up with impertinence and 
 things that do not concern them, that they 
 have no time to be acquainted with them- 
 selves ; like idle travellers, that can tell you 
 a world of stories concerning foreign 
 countries, and are very strangers at home. 
 Study of ourselves is the most useful know- 
 ledge, as that without which we can know 
 neither God nor anything else aright, as we 
 should know them. 
 
 *' And it highly concerns us to know our- 
 selves well ; nor will our ignorance be par- 
 donable, but prove an everlasting reproach, 
 in that we and ourselves are to be in- 
 separable companions in bliss or torment to 
 all eternity ; and if we, through neglect of 
 ourselves here, do not in time provide for 
 that eternity, so as to secure for ourselves 
 future happiness, God will at last make us 
 know ourselves, when it will be too late to 
 make any good use of that knowledge, but 
 a remediless repentance that we and our- 
 selves ever met in company ; when poor 
 ruined self shall curse negligent sinful self 
 to all ages, and wish direful imprecations 
 upon that day and hour that first joined 
 them together.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 547 
 
 "Again, God has given man that ail- 
 vantage above all other creatures, that he 
 can with reflex acts look back and pass judg- 
 ment upon himself. But seeing examination 
 here supposes two persons, the one to ex- 
 amine, the other to be examined, and yet 
 seems to name but one, a man to examine 
 himself; unless a man and himself be two, 
 and thus every one of us have two selfs in 
 him ; let us first examine who 'tis here is to 
 execute the office of examinant, and then 
 who 'tis that is to be the party examined. 
 
 " Does the whole man in this action go 
 over himself by parts ? Or does the re- 
 generate part call the unregenerate part to 
 account ? Or if there be a divided self in 
 every man, does one self examine the other 
 self, as to wit, the spiritual self, the carnal 
 self? Or is it some one faculty in a man, 
 by which a man brings all his other faculties 
 and parts to trial, such a one as the con- 
 science may be ? If so, how then is con- 
 science itself tried, having no Peers to be 
 tried by, as being superior to all other 
 human powers, and calling them all to the 
 bar ? " 
 
 Here let me interpose a remark. Whether 
 a man and himself be two must be all one in 
 the end ; but woe to that house in which 
 the man and his wife are ! 
 
 The end of love is to have two made one 
 In will, and in affection.* 
 
 The old Lexicographer answers his own 
 question thus : " Why, yes ; I do think 'tis 
 the conscience of a man which examines the 
 man, and every part of him, both spiritual 
 and carnal, as well regenerate as unregene- 
 rate, and itself and all. For hence it was 
 called conscientia, as being that faculty by 
 which a man becomes conscious to himself, 
 and is made knowing together with himself 
 of all that good and evil that lies working in 
 his nature, and has been brought forth in 
 his actions. And this is not only the Re- 
 gister, and Witness and Judge of all parts 
 of man, and of all that they do, but is so 
 impartial an officer also, that it will give a 
 strict account of all itself at any time does, 
 
 BEN JONRON. 
 
 accusing or excusing even itself in every 
 motion of its own." 
 
 Reader I would proceed with this extract, 
 were it not for its length. The application 
 which immediately follows it, is eloquently 
 and forcibly made, and I exhort thee if ever 
 thou comest into a library where Adam 
 Littleton's Sermons are upon the shelf, 
 
 look 
 Not on, but m this Thee-concerning book ! t 
 
 Take down the goodly tome, and turn to the 
 sermon of Self-Examination, preached be- 
 fore the (Royal) Family at Whitehall, 
 March 3, 1677-8. You will find this passage 
 in the eighty-sixth page of the second 
 paging, and I advise you to proceed with 
 it to the end of the Discourse. 
 
 I will tell the reader for what reason I 
 purchased that goodly tome. It was because 
 of my grateful liking for the author, from 
 the end of whose dictionary I, like Daniel in 
 his boyhood, derived more entertainment 
 and information to boot, than from any 
 other book which, in those days, came within 
 the walls of a school. That he was a truly 
 learned man no one who ever used that 
 dictionary could doubt, and if there had not 
 been oddity enough in him to give his 
 learning a zest, he never could have com- 
 pounded an appellation for the Monument, 
 commemorating in what he calls an heptastic 
 vocable, which may be interpreted a 
 seven-leagued word, the seven Lord 
 Mayors of London under whose mayoralties 
 the construction of that lying pillar went 
 on from its commencement to its completion. 
 He called it the Fordo- Watermanno-Han- 
 sono - Hookero - Vinero - Sheldono - Davisian 
 pillar. 
 
 I bought the book for the author's sake, 
 which in the case of a living author is a 
 proper and meritorious motive, and in the 
 case of one who is dead, may generally be 
 presumed to be a wise one. It proved so in 
 this instance. For though there is nothing 
 that bears the stamp of oddity in his sermons, 
 there is much that is sterling. They have a 
 merit of their own, and it is of no mean 
 
 t SIR WILLIAM DENNY. 
 
 N N 2
 
 548 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 degree. Their manner is neither Latimerist 
 nor Andrewesian, nor Fullerish, nor Cotton- 
 Matherish, nor Jeremy Taylorish, nor Bar- 
 rowish, nor Southish, but Littletonian. 
 They are full of learning, of wisdom, of 
 sound doctrine, and of benevolence, and of 
 earnest and persuasive piety. No one who 
 had ears to hear could have slept under 
 them, and few could have listened to them 
 without improvement. 
 
 CHAPTER CCIV. 
 
 ADAM LITTLETON'S STATEMENT THAT EVERT 
 MAN IS MADE TIP OF THREE EGOS. DEAN 
 
 YOUNG DISTANCE BETWEEN A MAN'S 
 
 HEAD AND HIS HEART. 
 
 Perhaps when the Reader considers the copiousness of 
 the argument, he will rather blame me for being too brief 
 than too tedious. DR. JOHN SCOTT. 
 
 IN the passage quoted from Adam Littleton 
 in the preceding chapter, that good old 
 divine inquired whether a man and himself 
 were two. A Moorish prince in the most 
 extravagant of Dryden's extravagant tra- 
 gedies, (they do not deserve to be called 
 romantic,) agrees with him, and exclaims to 
 his confidential friend, 
 
 Assist me, Zulema, if thou wouldst be 
 
 The friend thou seem'st, assist me against me. 
 
 Machiavel says of Cosmo de Medici that who- 
 ever considered his gravity and his levity 
 might say there were two distinct persons in 
 him. 
 
 " There is often times," says Dean Young, 
 (father of the poet,) " a prodigious distance 
 betwixt a man's head and his heart ; sucli a 
 distance that they seem not to have any 
 correspondence ; not to belong to the same 
 person, not to converse in the same world. 
 Our heads are sometimes in Heaven, con- 
 templating the nature of God, the blessed- 
 ness of Saints, the state of eternity; while 
 our hearts are held captive below in a 
 conversation earthly, sensual, devilish. 'Tis 
 possible we may sometimes commend virtue 
 convincingly, unanswerably ; and yet our 
 
 own hearts be never affected by our own 
 arguments ; we may represent vice in her 
 native dress of horror, and yet our hearts be 
 not at all startled with their own menaces. 
 We may study and acquaint ourselves with 
 all the truths of religion, and yet all this out 
 of curiosity, or hypocrisy, or ostentation ; 
 not out of the power of godliness, or the 
 serious purpose of good living. All which 
 is a sufficient proof that the consent of the 
 Head and of the Heart are two different 
 things." 
 
 Dean Young may seem in this passage to 
 have answered Adam the Lexicographist's 
 query in the affirmative, by showing that the 
 head belongs sometimes to one Self and the 
 heart to the other. Yet these two Selves, 
 notwithstanding this continual discord, are 
 so united in matrimony, and so inseparably 
 made one flesh, that it becomes another 
 query whether death itself can part them. 
 
 The aforesaid Dean concludes one of his 
 Discourses with the advice of an honest 
 heathen. Learn to be one Man; that is, 
 learn to live and act alike. " For," says he, 
 " while we act from contrary principles ; 
 sometimes give, and sometimes defraud ; 
 sometimes love, and sometimes betray ; some- 
 times are devout, and sometimes careless of 
 God : this is to be two Men, which is a 
 foolish aim, and always ends in loss of pains. 
 ' No,' says wise Epictetus, ' Learn to be one 
 MaiiJ thou mayest be a good man ; or thou 
 mayest be a bad man, and that to the pur- 
 pose ; but it is impossible that thou shouldst 
 be both. And here the Philosopher had the 
 happiness to fall in exactly with the notion 
 of my text. We cannot serve two Masters." 
 
 But in another sermon Adam Littleton 
 says that " every man is made of three Egos, 
 and has three Selfs in him;" and that this 
 " appears in the reflection of Conscience 
 upon actions of a dubious nature ; whilst 
 one Self accuses, another Self defends, and 
 the third Self passes judgment upon what 
 hath been so done by the man ! " This he 
 adduced as among various " means and un- 
 worthy comparisons, whereby to show that 
 though the mysterious doctrine of the 
 Trinity " far exceeds our reason, there want
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 549 
 
 not natural instances to illustrate it. But 
 he adds most properly that we should neither 
 " say or think aught of God in this kind," 
 without a preface of reverence and asking 
 pardon ; " for it is sufficient for us and most 
 suitable to the mystery, so to conceive, so to 
 discourse of God, as He himself has been 
 pleased to make Himself known to us in his 
 Word." 
 
 If all theologians had been as wise, as 
 humble, and as devout as Adam Littleton, 
 from how many heresies and evils might 
 Christendom have been spared ! 
 
 In the Doctor's own days the proposition 
 was advanced, and not as a paradox, that a 
 man might be in several places at the same 
 time. Presence corporelle de Fhomme en 
 plusieurs lieux prouvee possible par les prin- 
 cipes de la bonne Philosophic is the title of a 
 treatise by the Abbe de Lignac, who having 
 been first a Jesuit, and then an Oratorian, 
 secularised himself without departing from 
 the principles in which he had been trained 
 up. The object of his treatise was to show 
 that there is nothing absurd in the doctrine 
 of Transubstantiation. He made a dis- 
 tinction between man and his body, the 
 body being always in a state of change, the 
 man remaining the while identically the same. 
 But how his argument that because a worm 
 may be divided and live, the life which ani- 
 mated it while it was whole continues a 
 single life when it animates all the parts into 
 which the body may have separated, proves 
 his proposition, or how his proposition, if 
 proved, could prove the hyper-mysterious 
 figment of the Romish Church to be no 
 figment, but a divine truth capable of 
 philosophical demonstration, CEdipus himself 
 were he raised from the dead would be unable 
 to explain. 
 
 CHAPTER CCV. 
 
 EQUALITY OF THE SEXES, A POINT ON 
 
 WHICH IT WAS NOT EASY TO COLLECT THE 
 DOCTOR'S OPINION. THE SALIC LAW. 
 DANIEL KOGERS'S TREATISE OF MATRI- 
 MONIAL HONOUR, MISS HATFIELD'S LET- 
 TERS ON THE IMPORTANCE OF THE FEMALE 
 SEX, AND LODOVICO DOMENICHl's DIALOGUE 
 UPON THE NOBLENESS OF WOMEN. 
 
 Mirths and toys 
 
 To cozen time withal : for o' my troth, Sir, 
 I can love, 1 think well too, well enough ; 
 And think as well of women as they are, 
 Pretty fantastic things, some more regardful, 
 And some few worth a service. I'm so honest 
 I wish 'em all in Heaven, and you know bow hard, Sir, 
 "Twill be to get in there with their great farthingals. 
 
 BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. 
 And not much easier now with their great sleeves. 
 
 AUTHOR, A. D. 1830. 
 
 THE question concerning the equality of the 
 sexes, which was discussed so warmly some 
 thirty years ago in Magazines and Debating 
 Societies, was one upon which it was not 
 easy to collect the Doctor's real opinion. 
 His manner indeed was frequently sportive 
 when his meaning was most serious, and as 
 frequently the thoughts and speculations 
 with which he merely played, and which were 
 sports or exercitations of intellect and hu- 
 mour, were advanced with apparent gravity. 
 The propensity, however, was always re- 
 tained within due bounds, for he had treasured 
 up his father's lessons in his heart, and would 
 have regarded it as a crime ever to have 
 trifled with his principles or feelings. But 
 this question concerning the sexes was a 
 subject which he was fond of introducing 
 before his female acquaintance ; it was like 
 hitting the right note for a dog when you 
 play the flute, he said. The sort of half 
 anger, and the indignation, and the astonish- 
 ment, and the merriment withal, which he 
 excited when he enlarged upon this fertile 
 theme, amused him greatly, and moreover he 
 had a secret pleasure in observing the in- 
 vincible good-humour of his wife, even when 
 she thought it necessary for the honour of 
 her sex to put on a semblance of wrath at 
 the notions which he repeated, and the com- 
 ments with which he accompanied them.
 
 550 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 He used to rest his opinion of male supe- 
 riority upon divinity, law, grammar, natural 
 history, and the universal consent of nations. 
 Noting also by the way, that in the noble 
 science of heraldry, it is laid down as a rule 
 " that amongst things sensitive the males are 
 of more worthy bearing than the females." * 
 
 The Salic law he looked upon as in this 
 respect the Law of Nature. And therefore 
 he thought it was wisely appointed in 
 France, that the royal Midwife should re- 
 ceive a fee of five hundred crowns upon the 
 birth of a boy, and only three hundred if it 
 were a female child. This the famous 
 Louise Bourgeois has stated to be the cus- 
 tom, who for the edification of posterity, the 
 advancement of her own science, and the 
 use of French historians, published a Recit 
 veritable de la naissance de Messieurs et 
 Dames les enfans de France, containing 
 minute details of every royal parturition at 
 which she had officiated. 
 
 But he dwelt with more force on the theo- 
 logical grounds of his position. " The wife 
 is the weaker vessel. Wives submit your- 
 selves to your husbands : be in subjection to 
 them. The Husband is the head. Sarah 
 obeyed Abraham, calling him Lord." And 
 here he had recourse to the authority of 
 Daniel Rogers, (whom he liked the better for 
 his name's sake,) who in his Treatise of 
 Matrimonial Honour teaches that the duty 
 of subjection is woman's chief command- 
 ment ; and that she is properly made subject 
 by the Law of Creation and by the Law of 
 Penalty. As thus. All other creatures were 
 created male and female at the same time ; 
 man and woman were not so, for the Man 
 was first created as a perfect creature, and 
 afterwards the woman was thought of. 
 Moreover she was not made of the same 
 matter, equally, with man, but of him, of a 
 rib taken from him, and thirdly, she was made 
 for his use and benefit as a meet helpmate, 
 " three weighty reasons and grounds of the 
 woman's subjection to the man, and that 
 from the purpose of the Creator; who might 
 have done otherwise, that is, have yielded to 
 
 the Woman co-equal beginning, sameness of 
 generation, or relation of usefulness ; for he 
 might have made her without any such pre- 
 cedency of matter, without any dependency 
 upon him, and equally for her good as for 
 his. All show at ennobling the Man as the 
 Head and more excellent, not that the Man 
 might upbraid her, but that she might in all 
 these read her lesson of subjection. And 
 doubtless, as Malachi speaks, herein is wis- 
 dom, for God hath left nothing to be bettered 
 by our invention. 
 
 " The woman, being so created by God in 
 the integrity of Nature hud a most divine 
 honour and partnership of his image, put 
 upon her in her creation ; yea, such as (with- 
 out prejudice of those three respects) might 
 have held full and sweet correspondence 
 with her husband. But her sin still aug- 
 mented her inequality, and brought her 
 lower and lower in her prerogative. For 
 since she would take upon her, as a woman, 
 without respect to the order, dependence 
 and use of her creation, to enterprise so sad 
 a business, as to jangle and demur with the 
 Devil about so weighty a point as her hus- 
 band's freehold, and of her own brain to lay 
 him and it under foot, without the least 
 parley and consent of his, obeying Satan 
 before him, so that till she had put all 
 beyond question and past amendment, and 
 eaten, she brought not the fruit to him, 
 therefore the Lord stript her of this robe of 
 her honour, and smote into the heart of Eve 
 an instinct of inferiority, a confessed yielding 
 up of her insufficient self to depend wholly 
 upon her husband." 
 
 This being a favourite commentary with 
 the Doctor upon the first transgression, what 
 would he have said if he had lived to read 
 an Apology for Eve by one of her daughters? 
 yes, an Apology for her and a Defence, 
 showing that she acted meritoriously in 
 eating the Apple. It is a choice passage, 
 and the reader shall have it from Miss Hat- 
 field's Letters on the Importance of the 
 Female Sex. 
 
 " By the creation of woman, the great 
 design was accomplished, the universal 
 system was harmonised. Happiness and in-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 551 
 
 nocence reigned together. But unacquainted 
 with the nature or existence of evil, con- 
 scious only of good and imagining that all 
 were of that essence around her ; without 
 the advantages of the tradition of forefathers 
 to relate, or of ancient records to hand 
 down, Eve was fatally and necessarily igno- 
 rant of the rebellious disobedience of the 
 fallen Angels, and of their invisible vigilance 
 and combination to accomplish the destruc- 
 tion of the new favourites of Heaven. 
 
 " In so momentous an event, as that which 
 has ever been exclusively imputed to her, 
 neither her virtue nor her prudence ought 
 to be suspected ; and there is little reason to 
 doubt, that if the same temptations had been 
 offered to her husband under the same ap- 
 pearances, but he also would have acquiesced 
 in the commission of this act of disobedience. 
 
 " Eve's attention was attracted by the 
 manner in which the Serpent first made his 
 attack : he had the gift of speech, which she 
 must have observed to be a faculty peculiar 
 to themselves. This appeared an evidence 
 of something supernatural. The wily tempter 
 chose also the form of the serpent to assist 
 his design, as not only in wisdom and saga- 
 city that creature surpassed all others, but 
 his figure was also erect and beautiful, for it 
 was not until the offended justice of God 
 denounced the curse, that the Serpent's crest 
 was humbled to the dust. 
 
 " During this extraordinary interview, it 
 is evident that Eve felt a full impression of 
 the divine command, which she repeated 
 to the tempter at the time of his solicita- 
 tions. She told him they were not to eat of 
 that Tree. But the Serpent opposed her 
 arguments with sophistry and promises. He 
 said unto the Woman, ye shall not surely 
 die but shall be as Gods. What an idea 
 to a mortal ! Such an image astonished 
 her ! It was not the gross impulses of 
 greedy appetite that urged her, but a nobler 
 motive had induced her to examine the con- 
 sequences of the act. She was to be better 
 and happier ; to exchange a mortal for an 
 angelic nature. Her motive was great, 
 virtuous, irresistible. Might she not have 
 felt herself awed and inspired with a belief 
 
 of a divine order? Upon examination she 
 found it was to produce a greater good than 
 as mortals they could enjoy ; this impression 
 excited a desire to possess that good; and 
 that desire determined her will and the future 
 destiny of a World ! " 
 
 It must be allowed that this Lady 
 Authoress has succeeded in what might have 
 been supposed the most difficult of all at- 
 tempts, that of starting a new heresy, her 
 followers in which may aptly be denominated 
 Eveites. 
 
 The novelty consists not in excusing the 
 mother of mankind, but in representing her 
 transgression as a great and meritorious act. 
 An excuse has been advanced for her in 
 Lodovico Domenichi's Dialogue upon the 
 Nobleness of Women. It is there pleaded 
 that the fruit of the fatal tree had not been 
 forbidden to Eve, because she was not created 
 when the prohibition was laid on. Adam it 
 was who sinned in eating it, not Eve, and it 
 is in Adam that we have all sinned, and all 
 die. Her ofFence was in tempting him to 
 eat, et questo anchora senza intention cattiva, 
 essendo stata tentata dal Diavolo. L'huomo 
 adunque peccb per certa scientia, et la Donna 
 ignorantemente, et ingannata. 
 
 I know not whether this special pleading 
 be Domenichi's own ; but he must have been 
 conscious that there is a flaw in it, and could 
 not have been in earnest, as Miss Hatfield 
 is. The Veronese lady Isotta Nogarola 
 thought differently ; essendo studiosa motto 
 di Theologia et di Philosophia, she composed 
 a Dialogue wherein the question whether 
 Adam or Eve in the primal transgression 
 had committed the greater sin. How she 
 determined it I cannot say, never having 
 seen her works. 
 
 Domenichi makes another assertion in 
 honour of womankind which INliss Hatfield 
 would undoubtedly consider it an honour for 
 herself to have disproved in her own person, 
 that no heresy, or error in the faith, ever 
 originated with a woman. 
 
 Had this Lady, most ambitious of Eve's 
 daughters, been contemporary with Doctor 
 Dove, how pleasant it would have been to 
 have witnessed a debate between them upon
 
 552 
 
 THE DOCTOK. 
 
 the subject ! He would have wound her up 
 to the highest pitch of indignation, and she 
 would have opened the flood-gates of female 
 oratory upon his head. 
 
 CHAPTER CCVI. 
 
 THE SUBJECT CONTINCED. OPINIONS OF THE 
 BABBIS. ANECDOTE OF LADY JEKYLL AND 
 A TAHT REPLY OF WILLIAM WHISTOJi's. 
 JEAN D'ESPAGNE. QUEEN ELIZABETH OF 
 THE QUORUM QUARUM QUORUM GENDER. 
 THE SOCIETY OF GENTLEMEN AGREE WITH 
 MAHOMET IN SUPPOSING THAT WOMEN HAVE 
 NO SOULS, BUT ARE OF OPINION THAT THE 
 DEVIL IS AN HERMAPHRODITE. 
 
 Sing of the nature of women, and then the song shall be 
 surely full of variety, old crotchets, and most sweet closes : 
 It shall be humourous, grave, fantastic, amorous, melan- 
 choly, sprightly, one in all and all in one. MARSTON. 
 
 THE Doctor had other theological arguments 
 in aid of the opinion which he was pleased 
 to support. The remark has been made 
 which is curious, or in the language of 
 Jeremy Taylor's age, considerable, that we 
 read in Genesis how when God saw every- 
 thing else which he had made he pronounced 
 that it was very good, but he did not say 
 this of the woman. 
 
 There are indeed certain Rabbis who 
 affirm that Eve was not taken out of Adam's 
 side : but that Adam had originally been 
 created with a tail, (herein agreeing with the 
 well-known theory of Lord Monboddo,) and 
 that among the various experiments and 
 improvements which were made in his form 
 and organisation before he was finished, the 
 tail was removed as an inconvenient ap- 
 pendage, and of the excrescence or super- 
 fluous part which was then lopped off, the 
 Woman was formed. 
 
 " We are not bound to believe the Rabbis 
 in everything," the Doctor would say ; " and 
 yet it cannot be denied that they have pre- 
 served some valuable traditions which ought 
 to be regarded with much respect." And 
 then by a gentle inclination of the head, 
 and a peculiar glance of the eye, he let it be 
 understood that this was one of those tradi- 
 tions which were entitled to consideration. 
 
 " It was not impossible," he said, " but that a 
 different reading in the original text might 
 support such an interpretation : the same 
 word in Hebrew frequently signified different 
 things, and rib and tail might in that lan- 
 guage be as near each other in sound or as 
 easily miswritten by a hasty hand, or mis- 
 read by an inaccurate eye, as costa and cauda 
 in Latin." He did not pretend that tins was 
 the case but that it might be so. And by 
 a like corruption (for to such corruptions 
 all written and even all printed books are 
 liable) the text may have represented that 
 Eve was taken from the side of her husband 
 instead of from that part of the back where 
 the tail grew. The dropping of a syllable 
 might occasion it. 
 
 " And this view of the question," he said, 
 " derived strong support from that well- 
 known and indubitable text wherein the Hus- 
 band is called the Head; for although that 
 expression is in itself most clear and signifi- 
 cative in its own substantive meaning, it 
 becomes still more beautifully and empha- 
 tically appropriate when considered as re- 
 ferring to this interpretation and tradition, 
 and implying as a direct and necessary 
 converse that the Wife is the Tail." 
 
 There is another legend relating to a like 
 but even less worthy formation of the first 
 helpmate, and this also is ascribed to the 
 Rabbis. According to this mythos the rib 
 which had been taken from Adam was for a 
 moment laid down, and in that moment a 
 monkey stole it and ran off with it full 
 speed. An Angel pursued, and though not 
 in league with the Monkey he could have 
 been no good Angel ; for overtaking him, 
 he caught him by the Tail, brought it 
 maliciously back instead of the Rib, and of 
 that Tail was Woman made. What became 
 of the Rib, with which the Monkey got 
 clear off, " was never to mortal known." 
 
 However the Doctor admitted that on the 
 whole the received opinion was the more 
 probable. And after making this admission 
 he related an anecdote of Lady Jekyll, who 
 was fond of puzzling herself and others 
 with such questions as had been common 
 enough a generation before her, in the days
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 553 
 
 of the Athenian Oracle. She asked William 
 Whiston of berhymed name and eccentric 
 memory, one day at her husband's table, to 
 resolve a difficulty which occurred to her in 
 the Mosaic account of the creation. " Since 
 it pleased God, Sir," said she, " to create the 
 Woman out of the Man, why did he form 
 her out of the rib rather than any other 
 part?" Whiston scratched his head and 
 answered : "Indeed, Madam, I do not know, 
 unless it be that the rib is the most crooked 
 part of the body." " There ! " said her 
 husband, " you have it now : I hope you 
 are satisfied ! " 
 
 He had found in the writings of the 
 Huguenot divine, Jean D'Espagne, that 
 Women have never had either the gift of 
 tongues, or of miracle ; the latter gift, ac- 
 cording to this theologian, being withheld 
 from them because it properly accompanies 
 preaching, and women are forbidden to be 
 preachers. A reason for the former ex- 
 ception the Doctor supplied ; he said it was 
 because one tongue was quite enough for 
 them : and he entirely agreed with the 
 Frenchman that it must be so, because there 
 could have been no peace on earth had it 
 been otherwise. But whether the sex 
 worked miracles or not was a point which 
 he left the Catholics to contend. Female 
 Saints there certainly had been, " the 
 Lord," as Daniel Rogers said, " had gifted 
 and graced many women above some men 
 especially with holy affections ; I know not," 
 says that divine, " why he should do it else 
 (for he is wise and not superfluous in 
 needless things) save that as a Pearl shining 
 through a chrystal glass, so her excellency 
 shining through her weakness of sex, might 
 show the glory of the workman." He 
 quoted also what the biographer of one of 
 the St. Catharines says, " that such a woman 
 ought not to be called a woman, but rather 
 an earthly Angel, or a heavenly homo : heec 
 foemina, sed potius Angelus terrestris, vel si 
 
 lueriS) homo ccelestis dicenda erat, quam 
 ftemina." In like manner the Hungarians 
 thinking it infamous for a nation to be 
 governed by a woman and yet perceiving 
 the groat advantage of preserving the suc- 
 
 cession, when the crown fell to a female, 
 they called her King Mary, instead of 
 Queen. 
 
 And Queen Elizabeth, rather than be ac- 
 counted of the feminine gender, claimed it 
 as her prerogative to be of all three. " A 
 prime officer with a White Staff coming into 
 her presence " she willed him to bestow a 
 place then vacant upon a person whom she 
 named. " May it please your Highness 
 Madam," said the Lord, " the disposal of 
 that place pertaineth to me by virtue of this 
 White Staff." "True," replied the Queen, 
 "yet I never gave you your office so ab- 
 solutely, but that I still reserved myself of 
 the Quorum" " Of the Quorum, Madam," 
 returned the Lord, presuming, somewhat 
 too far, upon her favour. Whereat she 
 snatched the staff in some anger out of his 
 hand, and told him " he should acknowledge 
 her of the Quorum, Quarum, Quorum before 
 he had it again." 
 
 It was well known indeed to Philosophers, 
 he said, that the female is an imperfection 
 or default in nature, whose constant design 
 is to form a male ; but where strength and 
 temperament are wanting a defective pro- 
 duction is the result. Aristotle therefore 
 calls Woman a Monster, and Plato makes it 
 a question whether she ought not to be 
 ranked among irrational creatures. There 
 were Greek Philosophers, who (rightly in 
 his judgment) derived the name of 'A.tii}vrj 
 from e/jXt> and alpha privativa, as im- 
 plying that the Goddess of wisdom, though 
 Goddess, was nevertheless no female, having 
 nothing of female imperfection. And a 
 book unjustly ascribed to the learned Ad- 
 dalius was published in Latin, and after- 
 wards in French, to prove that women were 
 not reasonable creatures, but distinguished 
 from men by this specific difference, as well 
 as in sex. 
 
 Mahomet too was not the only person 
 who has supposed that women have no souls. 
 In this Christian and reformed country, the 
 question was propounded to the British 
 Apollo whether there is now, or will be at 
 the resurrection any females in Heaven 
 since, says the questioner, there seems to be
 
 554 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 no need of them there ! The Society of 
 Gentlemen who, (in imitation of John 
 Dunton, his brother-in-law the elder Wesley, 
 and their coadjutors,) had undertaken in 
 this Journal to answer all questions, re- 
 turned a grave reply, that sexes being 
 corporeal distinctions there could be no 
 such distinction among the souls which are 
 now in bliss ; neither could it exist after the 
 resurrection, for they who partook of 
 eternal life neither marry nor are given in 
 marriage. 
 
 That same Society supposed the Devil to 
 be an Hermaphrodite, for though by his 
 roughness they said he might be thought of 
 the masculine gender, they were led to that 
 opinion because he appeared so often in 
 petticoats. 
 
 CHAPTER CCVIL 
 
 FRACAS WITH THE GENDER FEMININE. 
 THE DOCTOR'S DEFENCE. 
 
 If there sit twelve women at the table, let a dozen of 
 them be as they are. TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 " PAPP-PAAH ! " says my daughter. 
 
 " You intolerable man ! " says my wife. 
 
 " You abominable creature ! " says my 
 wife's eldest sister, " you wicked wretch ! " 
 
 " Oh Mr. Author," says Miss Graveairs, 
 " I did not expect this from you." 
 
 " Very well, Sir, very well ! This is like 
 you ! " says the Bow-Begum. 
 
 " Was there ever such an atrocious libel 
 upon the sex ? " says the Lady President of 
 the Celestial Blues. 
 
 The Ladies of the Stocking unanimously 
 agree in the sentence of condemnation. 
 
 Let me see, who do I know among them ? 
 There is Mrs. Lapis Lazuli and her daughter 
 Miss Ultramarine, there is Mrs. Bluestone, 
 the most caustic of female critics, and her 
 friend Miss Gentian, Heaven protect me 
 from the bitterness of her remarks, there 
 is Lady Turquoise, Lady Celestina Sky, the 
 widow Bluebeard, Miss Mazarine, and that 
 pretty creature Serena Cerulean, it does me 
 good to look at her, she is the blue-bell of 
 
 the party. There is Miss Sapphire, Miss 
 Priscilla Prussian, Mrs. Indigo, and the 
 Widow Woad. And Heaven knows who 
 beside. Mercy on me it were better to 
 be detected at the mysteries of the Bona 
 Dea, than be found here ! Hear them how 
 they open in succession 
 
 " Infamous ! " 
 
 " Shameful ! " 
 
 " Intolerable ! " 
 
 " This is too bad." 
 
 " He has heaped together all the slanderous 
 and odious things that could be collected from 
 musty books." 
 
 " Talk of his Wife and Daughter. I do not 
 believe any one who had wife and daugh- 
 ter would have composed such a Chapter 
 as that. An old bachelor I warrant him, 
 and mustier than his books." 
 
 " Pedant ! " 
 
 " Satirist !" 
 
 " Libeller ! " 
 
 " Wretch ! " 
 
 "Monster!" 
 
 And Miss Virginia Vinegar compleats 
 the climax by exclaiming with peculiar em- 
 phasis, " Man ! " 
 
 All Indigo-land is in commotion ; and Ur- 
 gand the Unknown would be in as much 
 danger proh- Jupiter ! from the Stockingers, 
 if he fell into their hands, as Orpheus from 
 the Maenades. Tantane animis cadestibus 
 irce f 
 
 " Why Ladies ! dear Ladies ! good Ladies ! 
 gentle Ladies ! merciful Ladies ! hear me, 
 hear me ! In justice, in compassion, in cha- 
 rity, hear me ! For your own sukes, and lor 
 the honour of feminaJity, hear me ! " 
 
 " What has the wretch to say ? " 
 
 " What can he say ?" 
 
 " What indeed can be said f Nevertheless 
 let us hear him, so bad a case must always 
 be made worse by any attempt at defend- 
 ing it." 
 
 " Hear him ! hear him !" 
 
 "Englishwomen, countrywomen, and love- 
 lies, lovelies, I certainly may call you, if 
 it be not lawful for me to say lovers, hear 
 me for your honour, and have respect to 
 your honour that you may believe, censure
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 555 
 
 me in your wisdom, and awake your senses 
 that you may be better judges. W ho is here 
 so unfeminine that would be a male crea- 
 ture? if any, speak; for her have I offended. 
 Who is here so coarse that would not be a 
 woman ? if any, speak ; for her have I 
 offended. Who is here so vile that will 
 not love her sex ? if any speak ; for her 
 have I offended. I can have offended none 
 but those who are ashamed of their woman- 
 hood, if any such there be, which I ana far 
 from thinking." 
 
 Gentle Ladies, do you in your conscience 
 believe that any reasonable person could 
 possibly think the worse of womankind, for 
 any of the strange and preposterous opinions 
 which my lamented and excellent friend 
 used to repeat in the playfulness of an eccen- 
 tric fancy ? Do you suppose that he was 
 more in earnest when he brought forward 
 these learned fooleries, than the Devil's 
 Advocate when pleading against a suit for 
 canonisation in the Papal Court ? 
 
 Qttfsto negro inchiostro, cA' io dtspenzo 
 Konfu per dare, o donne, a i vostri nati, 
 Jngrato odore, o d' altro che d' incenzo.* 
 
 Hear but to the end, and I promise you 
 on the faith of a true man, a Red Letter 
 Chapter in your praise ; not a mere pane- 
 gyric in the manner of those who flatter 
 while they despise you, but such an honest 
 estimate as will bear a scrutiny, and which 
 you will not like the worse because it may 
 perhaps be found profitable as well as 
 pleasing. 
 
 Forgive me, sacred sex of woman, that, 
 
 In thought or syllable, I have declaim'd 
 
 Against your goodness ; and I will redeem it 
 
 With such religious honouring your names, 
 
 That when I die, some never thought- stain'd virgin 
 
 Shall make a relic of my dust, and throw 
 
 My ashes, like a charm, upon those men 
 
 Whose faiths they hold suspected. t 
 
 * MAUEO. 
 
 t SHIRLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER CCVHL 
 
 VALUE OF WOMEN AMONG THE AFGHAUN8. 
 LIGON'8 HISTORY OF BABBADOES, AND A 
 FAVOURITE STORY OF THE DOCTOR'S 
 THEREFROM. CLAUDE SEISSEL, AND THE 
 SALIC LAW. JEWISH THANKSGIVING. ETY- 
 MOLOGY OF MULIER, WOMAN, AND LASS ; 
 
 FROM WHICH IT MAY BE GUESSED HOW 
 
 MUCH IS CONTAINED IN THE LIMBO OF 
 ETYMOLOGY. 
 
 If thy name were known that writest in thit ort, 
 
 By womankind, unnaturally, giving evil report, 
 
 Whom all men ought, both young and old, defend with all 
 
 their might, 
 
 Considering what they do deserve of every living wight, 
 I wish thou should exiled be from women more and less, 
 And not without just cause thou must thyself confess. 
 EDWARD MORE. 
 
 IT would have pleased the Doctor when he 
 was upon this topic if he had known how 
 exactly the value of women was fixed among 
 the Afghauns, by whose laws twelve young 
 women are given as a compensation for the 
 slaughter of one man, six for cutting off a 
 hand, an ear, or a nose ; three for breaking a 
 tooth, and one for a wound of the scalp. 
 
 By the laws of the Venetians as well as of 
 certain Oriental people, the testimony of two 
 women was made equivalent to that of one 
 man. And in those of the Welsh King 
 Hywel Dda, or Howel Dha, " the satisfac- 
 tion for the murder of a woman, whether 
 she be married or not, is half that of her 
 brother," which is upon the same standard 
 of relative value. By the same laws a 
 woman was not to be admitted as bail for a 
 man, nor as witness against him. 
 
 He knew that a French Antiquarian 
 (Claude Seissel) had derived the name of the 
 Salic law from the Latin word Sal, comme 
 une lay pleine de sel, c'est d dire pleine de 
 sapience J, and this the Doctor thought a far 
 more rational etymology than what some one 
 proposed either seriously or in sport, that 
 the law was called Salique because the words 
 Si aliquis and Si aliqua were of such fre- 
 quent occurrence in it. " To be born a man- 
 child," says that learned author who first 
 composed an Art of Rhetoric in the English 
 
 t BRANTOME. .
 
 556 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 tongue, " declares a courage, gravity and 
 onstancy. To be born a woman, declares 
 weakness of spirit, neshenes of body, and 
 fickleness of mind."* Justin Martyr, after 
 saying that the Demons by whom according 
 to him the system of heathen mythology was 
 composed, spake of Minerva as the first 
 Intelligence and the daughter of Jupiter, 
 makes this observation ; " now this we con- 
 sider most absurd, to carry about the image 
 of Intelligence in a female form ! " The 
 Father said this as thinking with the great 
 French comic poet that a woman never 
 could be anything more than a woman. 
 
 Car, voyez-vous. In femme est, comme on dit, man maitre, 
 
 Un certain animal difficile a connuitre, 
 
 Et de qui la nature est fort encline uu mal; 
 
 Et comme un animal est toujours animal. 
 
 Et ne serajamais qu' animal, quand sa vie 
 
 Dureroit cent mille ans ; aussi, sans repartie, 
 
 Lafcmmtest toujours femme, etjamais ne sera 
 
 due femme, tant qu'entier le monde durera. 
 
 A favourite anecdote with our Philosopher 
 was of the Barbadoes Planters, one of whom 
 agreed to exchange an English maid servant 
 with the other for a bacon pig, weight for 
 weight, four-pence per pound to be paid for 
 the overplus, if the balance should be in 
 favour of the pig, sixpence if it were on the 
 Maid's side. But when they were weighed 
 in the scales, Honour who was " extreme 
 fat, lazy and good for nothing," so far out- 
 weighed the pig, that the pig's owner re- 
 pented of his improvident bargain, and 
 refused to stand to it. Such a case Ligon 
 observes, when he records this notable story, 
 seldom happened ; but the Doctor cited it as 
 showing what had been the relative value of 
 women and pork in the West Indies. And 
 observe, he would say, of white women, Eng- 
 lish, Christian women, not of poor heathen 
 blacks, who are considered as brutes, bought 
 and sold like brutes, worked like brutes 
 and treated worse than any Government 
 ought to permit even brutes to be treated. 
 
 However, that women were in some re- 
 spects "better than men, he did not deny. He 
 doubted not but that Cannibals thought 
 them so ; for we know by the testimony of 
 such Cannibals as happen to have tried both, 
 
 that white men are considered better meat 
 than negroes, and Englishmen than French- 
 men, and there could be little doubt that, 
 for the same reason, women would be pre- 
 ferred to men. Yet this was not the case 
 with animals, as was proved by buck veni- 
 son, ox beef, and wether mutton. The 
 tallow of the female goat would not make 
 as good candles as that of the male. Nature 
 takes more pains in elaborating her nobler 
 work ; and that the male, as being the nobler, 
 was that which Nature finished with great- 
 est care must be evident, he thought, to 
 any one who called to mind the difference 
 between cock and hen birds, a difference 
 discoverable even in the egg, the larger and 
 finer eggs, with a denser white and a richer 
 yolk, containing male chicks. Other and 
 more curious observations had been made 
 tending to the same conclusion, but he omit- 
 ted them, as not perhaps suited for general 
 conversation, and not exactly capable of the 
 same degree of proof. It was enough to 
 hint at them. 
 
 The great Ambrose Parey, (the John 
 Hunter and the Baron Larrey of the six- 
 teenth century,) has brought forward many 
 instances wherein women have been changed 
 into men, instances which are not fabulous : 
 but he observes, "you shall find in no 
 history, men that have degenerated into 
 women ; for nature always intends and goes 
 from the imperfect to the more perfect, but 
 never basely from the more perfect to the 
 imperfect." It was a rule in the Roman law, 
 that when husband and wife overtaken by 
 some common calamity perished at the same 
 time, and it could not be ascertained which 
 had lived the longest, the woman should 
 be presumed to have expired the first, as 
 being by nature the feeblest. And for the 
 same reason if it had not been noted whether 
 brother or sister being twins came first in 
 the world, the legal conclusion was that the 
 boy being the stronger was the first born. 
 
 And from all these facts he thought the 
 writer must be a judicious person who 
 published a poem entitled the Great Birth 
 of Man, or Excellence of his Creation over 
 Woman.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 557 
 
 Therefore according to the Bramins, the 
 widow who burns herself with the body of 
 her husband, will in her next state be born 
 a male ; but the widow, who refuses to make 
 this self-sacrifice, will never be anything 
 better than a woman, let her be born again 
 as often as she may. 
 
 Therefore it is that the Jew at this day 
 begins his public prayer with a thanksgiving 
 to his Maker, for not having made him a 
 woman ; an escape for which the Greek 
 philosopher was thankful. One of the things 
 which shocked a Moor who visited England 
 was to see dogs, women, and dirty shoes, 
 permitted to enter a place of worship, the 
 Mahometans, as is well known, excluding all 
 three from their Mosques. Not that all 
 Mahometans believe that women have no 
 souls. There are some who think it more 
 probable they have, and these more liberal 
 Mussulinen hold that there is a separate 
 Paradise for them, because they say, if the 
 women were admitted into the Men's Pa- 
 radise, it would cease to be Paradise, 
 there would be an end of all peace there. 
 It was probably the same reason which 
 induced Origen to advance an opinion that 
 after the day of Judgment women will be 
 turned into men. The opinion has been 
 condemned among his heresies ; but the 
 Doctor maintained that it was a reasonable 
 one, and almost demonstrable upon the sup- 
 position that we are all to be progressive in 
 a future state. " There was, however," he 
 said, " according to the Jews a peculiar pri- 
 vilege and happiness reserved for them, that 
 is lor all those of their chosen nation, during 
 the temporal reign of the Messiah, for every 
 Jewish woman is then to lie in every day!" 
 
 " I never," says Bishop Reynolds, " read 
 of more dangerous falls in the Saints than 
 were Adam's, Samson's, David's, Solomon's, 
 and Peter's ; and behold in all these, either 
 the first enticers, or the first occasioners, 
 are women. A weak creature may be a 
 strong tempter : nothing too impotent or 
 useless for the Devil's service." Fuller 
 among his Good Thoughts has this pa- 
 ragraph : "I find the natural Philosopher 
 making a character of the Lion's disposition, 
 
 amongst other his qualities, reporteth, first, 
 that the Lion feedeth on men, and after- 
 wards (if forced with extremity of hunger, 
 on women. Satan is a roaring Lion seeking 
 whom he may devour. Only he inverts the 
 method, and in his bill of fare takes the 
 second first. Ever since he over-tempted 
 our grandmother Eve, encouraged with s.uc- 
 cess he hath preyed first on the weaker sex." 
 
 " Sit not in the midst of women," saith the 
 son of Sirach in his Wisdom, " for from 
 garments cometh a moth, and from women 
 wickedness." " Behold, this have I found, 
 saith the Preacher, counting one by one to 
 find out the account ; which yet my soul 
 seeketh, but I find not : one man among a 
 thousand have I found; but a woman among 
 all those have I not found." 
 
 "It is a bad thing," said St. Augustine, "to 
 look upon a woman, a worse to speak to her, 
 and to touch her is worst of all." John 
 Bunyan admired the wisdom of God for 
 making him shy of the sex, and boasted that 
 it was a rare thing to see him "carry it 
 pleasant towards a woman." " The common 
 salutation of women," said he, "I abhor, 
 their company alone I cannot away with ! " 
 John, the great Tinker, thought wi:h the 
 son of Sirach, that " better is the churlish- 
 ness of a man, than a courteous woman, a 
 woman which bringeth shame and reproach." 
 And Menu the lawgiver of the Hindoos 
 hath written that " it is the nature of women 
 in this world to cause the seduction of men." 
 And John Moody in the play, says, " I ha' 
 seen a little of them, and I find that the 
 best, when she's minded, won't ha' much 
 goodness to spare." A wife has been called 
 a daily calamity, and they who thought least 
 unfavourably of the sex have pronounced it 
 a necessary evil. 
 
 " Mulier, quasi mollior,'" saith Varro * ; 
 a derivation upon which Dr. Featley thus 
 commenteth : "Women take their name in 
 
 * The Soothsayer in Cymbeline was of a like opinion 
 
 with Varro ! 
 
 The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter, 
 Which we call mollis aer i and mollis aer 
 We term it mvlicr. 
 
 Souther's favourite play upon the stage was Cymbeline, 
 
 and next to it, As yon like it.
 
 558 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Latin from tenderness or softness, because 
 they are usually of a softer temper than 
 men, and much more subject to passions, 
 especially of fear, grief, love, and longing ; 
 their fear is almost perpetual, their grief 
 immoderate, their love ardent, and their 
 longing most vehement. They are the 
 weaker vessels, not only weaker in body 
 than men, and less able to resist violence, 
 but also weaker in mind and less able to 
 hold out in temptations ; and therefore the 
 Devil first set upon the woman as conceiving 
 it a matter of more facility to supplant her 
 than the man " And they are such dis- 
 semblers, says the Poet, 
 
 As if their mother had been made 
 Only of all the falsehood of the man, 
 Disposed into that rib. 
 
 " Look indeed at the very name," said the 
 Doctor, putting on his gravest look of pro- 
 vocation to the ladies. "Look at the very 
 name Woman, evidently meaning either 
 man's woe or abbreviated from woe to man, 
 because by woman was woe brought into the 
 world." 
 
 And when a girl is called a lass, who does 
 not perceive how that common word must 
 have arisen ? Who does not see that it may 
 be directly traced to a mournful interjection, 
 alas! breathed sorrowfully forth at the 
 thought the girl, the lovely and innocent 
 creature upon whom the beholder has fixed 
 his meditative eye, would in time become a 
 woman, a woe to man ! 
 
 There are other tongues in which the 
 name is not less significant. The two most 
 notoriously obstinate things in the world are 
 a mule and a pig. Now there is one lan- 
 guage in which pige means a young woman : 
 and another in which woman is denoted by 
 the word mulier : which word, whatever 
 grammarians may pretend, is plainly a com- 
 parative, applied exclusively and with pecu- 
 liar force to denote the only creature in nature 
 which is more mulish than a mule. Comment, 
 says a Frenchman, pourroit-on aymer les 
 Dames, puts qiielles se nomment ainsi du dam 
 et dominage qrfettes apportent aux hommes ! * 
 
 * BOUCHET. 
 
 INTERCIIAPTER XXIV. 
 
 A TRUE STORY OF THE TERRIBLE KNITTERS 
 E' DENT WHICH WILL BE READ WITH 
 INTEREST BY HUMANE MANUFACTURERS, 
 AND BY MASTERS OF SPINNING JENNIES 
 WITH A SMILE. BETTY YEWDALE. THE 
 
 EXCURSION AN EXTRACT FROM, AND AN 
 
 ILLUSTRATION OF. 
 
 voi ch' avete gl' inteUetti sani, 
 
 Mirate la dottrina, che s' asconde 
 
 Sotto 'I velame degli versi strani. DANTE.f 
 
 "!T was about six an' fifty year sen, in 
 June, when a woman cam fra' Dent at see a 
 Nebbor of ours e' Langdon.f They er 
 terrible knitters e' Dent sea my Fadder 
 an' Mudder sent me an' my lile Sister, 
 Sally, back we' her at larn at knit. I was 
 between sebben an' eight year auld, an' Sally 
 twea year younger T' Woman reade on 
 ya Horse, we Sally afore her an' I on 
 anudder, we a man walking beside me 
 whiles he gat up behint an' reade Ee' 
 them Days Fwoak dud'nt gang e' Carts 
 but Carts er t'best I'd rader ride e' yan 
 than e' onny Carriage I us't at think if I 
 was t' Leady, here at t' Ho ||,' how I wad 
 tear about int' rwoads but sen I hae 
 ridden in a Chaise I hate t' nwotion ont' 
 warst of ought for t' Trees gang fleeing 
 by o' ya side, an t' Wa'as ^[ on tudder, an' 
 gars yan be as seek as a peeate.** 
 
 " Weel, we dud'nt like Dent at a' nut 
 that they wer bad tull us but ther way o' 
 leeving it was round Meal an' they 
 stoult it int' frying pan, e' keaeks as thick as 
 my fing-er. Then we wer stawed^ we' sae 
 
 t By an oversight, this quotation has occurred before. 
 See p. 410. 
 
 t The valley of Langdale, near Ambleside. The 
 Langdale Pikes are known to all tourists. 
 
 Dent is a chapelry in the Parish and Union of Sed- 
 bergh, W. Division of the wapentake of Staincliffe and 
 Ewcross, W. Riding of the County of York, sixteen miles 
 E. from Kendal. Lewis's Topog. Diet. 
 
 || i. e. at the Hall. 
 
 1T Wa'as, i. e. Walls, as in p. 560. 
 
 ** Quaere, does this mean pet, as in the Taming of the 
 Shrew ? 
 
 " A pretty peat ! 'tis best 
 Put finger in the eye, an we knew why." 
 
 Act i. Sc. 1. 
 
 ft i. e. cloyed, saturated, fatigued. BROCKETT'S Glos- 
 sary of North Country words.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 mickle knitting We went to a Skeul about 
 a mile off ther was a Maister an' Mistress 
 they larnt us our Lessons, yan a piece 
 an' then we o' knit as hard as we cud drive, 
 striving whilk cud knit t' hardest yan again 
 anudder we lied our Darracks * set afore 
 we coin fra' Heam int' mwornin ; an' if we 
 dud'nt git them duun we warrant to gang 
 to our dinners They hed o' macks o' con- 
 trivances to larn us to knit swift T 
 Maister wad wind 3 or 4 clues togedder, for 
 3 or 4 Bairns to knitt off thaf at knit 
 slawest raffled tudders yarn, an' than she 
 gat weel thumpt (but ther was baith Lasses 
 an' Lads 'at learnt at knit) Than we ust 
 at sing a mack of a sang, whilk we wer at 
 git at t'end on at every needle, ca'ing ower 
 t' Neams of o' t' fwoak in t' Deaal but 
 Sally an me wad never ca' Dent Fwoak 
 sea we ca'ed Langdon Fwoak T' Sang 
 was 
 
 Sally an' I, Sally an' I, 
 
 For a good pudding pye, 
 
 Taa hoaf wheat, an' tudder hoaf rye, 
 
 Sally an' I, for a good pudding pye. 
 
 We sang this (altering t' neams) at every 
 needle : and when we com at t' end cried 
 "off" an' began again, an' sea we strave on 
 o' t' day through. 
 
 " We wer stawed, as I telt yea o' t' 
 pleser we hed was when we went out a bit 
 to beat t' fire for a nebbor 'at was baking 
 that was a grand day for us! AtKursmas 
 teea, ther was t' maskers an' on Kursmas 
 day at mworn they gav' us sum reed stuff 
 to' t' Breakfast I think it maun ha' been 
 Jocklat but we dud'nt like 't at a', 't 
 ommost puzzened us ! an' we cared for 
 nought but how we wer to git back to 
 Langdon Neet an' Day ther was nought 
 but this knitting ! T' Nebbors ust at gang 
 about fra' house to house, we' ther wark, 
 than yan fire dud, ye knaw, an' they cud 
 hev a better they hed girt lang black 
 peeats an' set them up an hed in a girt 
 round we' a whol at top an a' t' Fwoak sat 
 about it. When ony o' them gat into a 
 bubble we' ther wark, they shouted out 
 
 * I. e. Dayi-works. So the Derwent is called the 
 Darron. 
 
 " turn a Peeat " an' them 'at sat naarest 
 t' fire turnt yan, an' meaad a low\ fur 
 they nivver hed onny cannal. We knat 
 quorse wosset stockings some gloves an' 
 some neet caps, an' wastecwoat breests, an' 
 petticwoats. I yance knat a stocking, for 
 mysell, e' six hours Sally yan e' sebben 
 an' t' woman's Doughter, 'at was aulder than 
 us e' eight an' they sent a nwote to our 
 Fwoak e' Langdon at tell them. 
 
 " Sally an' me, when we wer by our sells, 
 wer always contrivin how we wer at git 
 away, when we sleept by oursells we talk't 
 of nought else but when t' woman's 
 Doughter sleept we' us we wer qwhite mum 
 
 sununat or udder always happent at 
 hinder us, till yan day, between Kursmas an' 
 Cannalmas, when t' woman's Doughter stait 
 at heaam, we teuk off. Our house was four 
 mile on 'todder side o' Dent's Town whor, 
 efter we hed pass t' Skeul, we axed t' way 
 to Kendal It hed been a hard frost, an' 
 ther was snaw on t' grund but it was 
 beginnin to thow, an' was varra sloshy an' 
 cauld but we poted alang leaving our lile 
 footings behint us we hed our cloggs on 
 
 for we durst'nt change them for our 
 shoon for fear o' being fund out an' we 
 had nought on but our hats, an' bits o' blue 
 bedgowns, an' brats see ye may think we 
 cuddent be varra heeat I hed a sixpence 
 e' my pocket, an' we hed three or four 
 shilling mare in our box, 'at our Fwoak hed 
 ge'en us to keep our pocket we' but, lile 
 inafflinsj as we wer, we thought it wad be 
 misst an' durst'nt tak ony mare. 
 
 "Afore we gat to Sebber we fell hun- 
 gry ; an' ther was a fine, girt, reed house 
 nut far off t' rwoad, whar we went an' begged 
 for a bit o' breead but they wadd'nt give 
 us ought sea we trampt on, an com to a 
 lile theakt house, an' I said ' Sally thou 
 
 t i. e.. a flame; it is an Icelandic word. See Haldorgon's 
 Lexicon. At logo, ardere, and Loga,flamma. So in St. 
 George for England, 
 
 As timorous larks amazed are 
 
 With light, and with a low-beU. 
 
 t Waffling a state of perplexity. BROCKETT. Maffled, 
 mazed, and maisled (as used a little further on) have all a 
 line sense. 
 J i. e. Sedbergh.
 
 500 
 
 THE DOCTOll. 
 
 sail beg t' neesht thou's less than me, an' 
 mappen they'll sarra us' an' they dud 
 an' gav us a girt slave * o' breead at last 
 we gat to Scotch Jins, as they ca' t' public 
 House about three mile fra Sebber (o' this 
 side) a Scotch woman keept it. It was 
 arnaist dark, sea we axt her at let us stay o' 
 neet she teuk us in, an' gav us sum boilt 
 milk and breead an' suun put us to bed 
 
 we telt her our taael ; an' she sed we wer 
 hit' reet at run away. 
 
 " Neesht mwornin she gav us sum mare 
 milk an' breead, an' we gav her our sixpence 
 
 an' then went off-sledding away ainangt' 
 snaw, ower that cauld moor (ye ken' 't weel 
 enough) naarly starved to deeath, an' maisled 
 
 sea we gat on varra slawly, as ye may 
 think an' 't rain'd tua. We begged again 
 at anudder lile theakt house, on t' Hay Fell 
 
 there was a woman an' a heap of raggeltly 
 Bairns stannin round a Teable an' she 
 gave us a few of their poddish, an' put a 
 lock of sugar into a sup of cauld tea tull 
 them. 
 
 " Then we trailed on again till we com to 
 t' Peeat Lane Turnpike Yat they teuk us 
 in there, an' let us warm oursells, an' gav us 
 a bit o' breead. They sed had duun re'et to 
 com away ; for Dent was t' poorest plaace in 
 t' warld, and we wer seafe to ha' been hun- 
 gert an' at last we gat to Kendal, when 't 
 was naar dark as we went up t' streat we 
 met a woman, an' axt t' way to Tom Posts 
 (that was t' man at ust te bring t' Letters 
 fra' Kendal to Ammelsid an' Hawksheead 
 yance a week an' baited at his house when 
 we com fra' Langdon) she telt us t' way an' 
 we creept on, but we leaked back at her 
 twea or three times an' she was still stan- 
 ning, leuking at us then she com back an' 
 quiesed us a deal, an' sed we sud gang heain 
 with her We telt her whor we hed cum 
 fra' an' o' about our Tramp 'at we hed hed. 
 
 She teuk us to her house it was a varra 
 poor yan down beside t' brig at we had 
 cum ower into t' Town Ther was nea fire 
 on but she went out, an' brought in saiu 
 
 * i. e. a slice. So in Titus Andromctig. 
 " Rasy it is 
 Or a cut loaf to steal a skive we know." 
 
 eilding^ (for they can buy a pennerth, or sea, 
 o' quols or Peeats at onny time there) an' 
 she set on a good fire an' put on t' kettle 
 then laitedf up sum of her awn claes, nn' 
 tiet them on us as weel as she cud, an' dried 
 ours for they wer as wet as thack it lied 
 rained a' t' way Then she meead us sum 
 tea an' as shehedden't a bed for us in her 
 awn house she teuk us to a nebbors Ther 
 was an auld woman in a Bed naar us that 
 flaed us sadly for she teuk a fit int' neet 
 an' her feace turnt as black as a cwol we 
 laid trimmiling, an' hutched oursells ower 
 heead e' bed Fwoks com an' steud round 
 her an' we heeard them say 'at we wer 
 asleep sea we meade as if we wer asleep, 
 because we thought if we wer asleep they 
 waddn't kill us an' we wisht oursells e' t' 
 streets again, or onny whor an' wad ha' 
 been fain to ha' been ligging under a Dyke. 
 " Neesht mwornin we hed our Brekfast, 
 an' t' woman gav us baith a hopenny Keack 
 beside (that was as big as a penny 'an now) 
 to eat as we went an' she set us to t' top 
 o' t' House o' Correction Hill It was freez- 
 ing again, an' t' rwoad was terrible slape ; 
 sea we gat on varra badly an' afore we 
 com to Staavley (an' that was but a lile bit 
 o' t' rwoad) we fell hung'ry an' began on our 
 keacks then we sed we wad walk sea far, 
 an' then tak a bite an' then on again an' 
 tnk anudder and afore we gat to t' Ings 
 Chapel they wer o' gane Every now an' 
 than we stopped at reest an' sat down, 
 an' grat , under a hedge or wa'a crudled up 
 togedder, taking haud o' yan anudder's hands 
 at try at warm them, for we were fairly 
 maizled wi' t' cauld an' when we saw onny 
 body cumming we gat up an' walked away 
 
 t Fire-elding, the common term for fuel. lid in 
 Danish \fjlre. Such words were to be expected in Cum- 
 berland. The commencement of Lander's lines to 
 Soutbey, 1*33, will explain why 
 Indwellef of a peaceful vale, 
 Ravaged erewhile by white-hair'd Dane, &c. 
 
 t To late or lent i> to seek out. See BROCKETT. It is 
 from the Icelandic at leyta, qiuerere. Cf. Haldorson 
 in v. 
 
 $ i. e. wept, from the old word greet, common to all the 
 Northern languages. Chaucer, Sppnser, &c., use it. See 
 Specimen Glo^sarii in Kdda Sa'inundar hinns Froda V. 
 Grtetr, ploratus, at grtela, plurare : hence grief, &c.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 561 
 
 but we duddn't meet monny I woak I 
 dunnat think Fwoak warr sea mickle in t' 
 rwoads e' them Days. 
 
 "We scraffled* on t' this fashion an' it 
 was quite dark afore we gat to Ammelsid 
 Yat our feet warr sare an' we warr naarly 
 dune for an' when we turnt round Win- 
 dermer Watter heead, T' waves blasht sea 
 dowly f that we warr fairly heart-brossen 
 we sat down on a cauld steane an' grat sare 
 
 but when we bed hed our belly-full o' 
 greeting we gat up, an feelt better J fort' an' 
 sea dreed on again slaw enough ye may 
 be sure but we warr e' bent rwoads an' 
 now when I gang that gait I can nwote o' t' 
 sports whor we reested for them lile bye 
 Iwoans erent sea micklealtert, as t' girt 
 rwoads, fra what they warr. At Clappers- 
 gait t' Fwoak wad ha' knawn us, if it hed- 
 dent been dark, an' o' ther duirs steeked , 
 an geen us a relief, if we hed begged there 
 
 but we began at be flate || 'at my Fadder 
 an' Mudder wad be angert at us for running 
 away. 
 
 " It was twea o'clock int' mworning when 
 we gat to our awn Duir I c'aed out 
 ' Fadder ! Fadder ! Mudder ! Mudder !' 
 ower an' ower again She hard us, an' sed 
 ' That's our Betty's voice' ' Thou's 
 nought but fancies, lig still,' said my Fadder 
 
 but she waddent ; an' sea gat up, an' 
 opent' Duir and there warr we stanning 
 doddering ^[ an' daized we' cauld, as deer 
 deead as macks nea matter When she so 
 us she was mare flate than we She brast 
 out a crying an' we grat an' my Fadder 
 grat an' a' an' they duddent flight**, nor 
 said nought tull us, for cumming away, 
 
 * I. e. struggled on. BROCKETT in v. 
 
 t i. e. lonely, melancholy. Ibid. 
 
 J The scholar will call to mind the X7 nra^t^u.-ar^a. 
 >i of the Iliad, xxiii. 98., with like expressions in the 
 Odyspy, e. p. xi. 211. xix. 213, and the reader of the 
 Pseudo Ossian will remember the words of Fingal : 
 " Strike the harp in my hall, and let Fingal hear the song. 
 Pleasant is the joy of grief." See Adam Littleton's Ser- 
 mons : part ii. p. 263. 
 
 " Steek the heck," i. e. shut the door. BROCKETT. 
 
 || From the verb " Flay," to frighten. 
 
 ^ We still speak of Dodder or Quaker'! grass, a 
 word, by the way, older than the Sect. 
 
 ** A. S. Flitan to scold. 
 
 they warrant a bit angert an' my Fadder 
 sed we sud nivver gang back again. 
 
 " r Fwoaks e' Dent nivver mist us, tilt' 
 Neet because they thought 'at we hed 
 been keept at dinner time 'at finish our tasks 
 
 but when neet com, an' we duddent cum 
 heam, they set off efter us to Kendal an' 
 mun ha' gane by Scotch Jins when we warr 
 there how they satisfied thersells, I knan't, 
 but they suppwosed we hed gane heam 
 and sea they went back My Fadder wasn't 
 lang, ye may be seur, o' finding out' T' 
 Woman at Kendal 'at was sea good tull us 
 
 an' my Mudder put her doun a pot o' 
 Butter, an' meead her a lile cheese an' 
 sent her." 
 
 INTERPOLATION . 
 
 The above affecting and very simple story, 
 Reader, was taken down from the mouth of 
 Betty Yewdale herself, the elder of the two 
 children, at that time an old woman, but 
 with a bright black eye that lacked no lustre. 
 A shrewd and masculine woman, Reader, 
 was Betty Yewdale, fond of the Nicotian 
 weed and a short pipe so as to have the full 
 flavour of its essence, somewhat, sooth be 
 said, too fond of it, for the pressure of the 
 pipe produced a cancer in her mouth, which 
 caused her death. Knowest thou, gentle 
 Reader, that most curious of all curious 
 books (we stop not to inquire whether 
 Scarron be indebted to it, or it to Scarron) 
 the Anatomy of Melancholy by Democritus 
 Junior, old Burton to wit ? Curious if 
 thou art, it cannot fail, but that thou knowest 
 it well, curious or not, hear what he says 
 of Tobacco, poor Betty Yewdale's bane ! 
 
 " Tobacco, divine, rare, super-excellent 
 tobacco, which goes far beyond all their 
 panaceas, potable gold, and philosopher's 
 stones, a sovereign remedy to all diseases. 
 A good vomit, I confesse, a vertuous herb, 
 if it be well qualified, opportunely taken, 
 and medicinally used ; but, as it is commonly 
 abused by most men, which take it as tinkers 
 do ale, 'tis a plague, a mischief, a violent 
 purger of goods, lands, health, hellish, 
 devilish and damned tobacco, the ruine and 
 overthrow of body and soul.'
 
 562 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Gentle Reader ! if thou knowest not the 
 pages of honest old Burton we speak not 
 of his melancholy end, which melancholy 
 may have wrought, but of his honesty of 
 purpose, and of his life, thou wilt not be 
 unacquainted with that excellent Poem of 
 Wordsworth's, " The Excursion, being a 
 Portion of the Recluse." If any know not 
 the wisdom contained in #, forthwith let them 
 shidy it! Acquainted with it or not, it is 
 Betty Yewdale that is described in the fol- 
 lowing lines, as holding the lanthorn to guide 
 the steps of old Jonathan, her husband, on 
 his return from working in the quarries, if 
 at any time he chanced to be beyond his 
 usual hour. They are given at length; 
 for who will not be pleased to read them 
 decies repetita ? 
 
 Much was I pleased, the grey-haired wanderer said, 
 
 When to those shining fields our notice first 
 
 You turned ; and yet more pleased have from your lips, 
 
 Gathered this fair report of them who dwell 
 
 In that retirement ; whither, by such course 
 
 Of evil hap and good as oft awaits 
 
 A lone wayfaring man, I once was brought. 
 
 Dark on my road the autumnal evening fell 
 
 While I was traversing yon mountain pass, 
 
 And night succeeded with unut.ua! gloom ; 
 
 So that ray feet and hands at length became 
 
 Guides better than mine eyes until a light 
 
 High in the gloom appeared, too high, methought, 
 
 For human habitation, but I longed 
 
 To reach it destitute of other hope. 
 
 I looked with steadiness as sailors look, 
 
 On the north-star, or watch-tower's di>tant lamp, 
 
 And saw the light now fixed and shifting, now 
 
 Not like a dancing meteor ; but in line 
 
 Of never varying motion, to and fro. 
 
 It is no night fire of the naked hills, 
 
 Thought I, some friendly covert mu-t he near. 
 
 With this persuasion thitherward my steps 
 
 I turn, and reach at last the guiding light; 
 
 Joy to myself! but to the heart of Her 
 
 Who there was standing on the open hill, 
 
 (The same kind Matron whom your tongue hath praised) 
 
 Alarm and disappointment ! The alarm 
 
 Ceased, when she learned through what mishap I came, 
 
 And by what help had gained those distant fields. 
 
 Drawn from her Cottage, on that open height. 
 
 Bearing a lantern in her hand she stood 
 
 Or paced the ground, to guide her husband home, 
 
 By that unwearied signal, kenned alar ; 
 
 An anxious duty ! which the lofty Site, 
 
 Traversed but by a few irregular paths, 
 
 Ini|>oses, whensoe'er untoward chance 
 
 Detains him after his accustomed hour 
 
 When night lies black upon the hills. ' But come, 
 
 Come,' said the Matron, ' to our poor abode ; 
 
 Those dark rocks hide it ! Entering, I beheld 
 
 A blazing fire beside a cleanly hearth 
 
 Sate down ; and to her office, with leave asked, 
 
 The Dame returned. Or ere that glowing pile 
 
 Of mountain turf required the builder's hand 
 
 Its wasted splendour to repair, the door 
 
 Opened, and she re-entered with glad looks, 
 
 Her Helpmate following. Hospitable fare, 
 
 Frank conversation, make the evening's treat: 
 
 Need a bewildered Traveller wish for more? 
 
 But more was given ; I studied as we sate 
 
 By the bright fire, the good Man's face composed 
 
 Of features elegant ; an open brow 
 
 Of undisturbed humanity ; a cheek 
 
 Suffused with something of a feminine hue ; 
 
 Fyes beaming courtesy and mild regard : 
 
 But in the quicker turns of his discourse, 
 
 Expression slowly varying, that evinced 
 
 A tardy apprehension. From a fount 
 
 Lost, thought 1, in the obscurities of time, 
 
 But honour'd once, those features and that nvec 
 
 May have descended, though I see them here, 
 
 In such a man, so gentle and subdued, 
 
 Withal so graceful in his gentleness. 
 
 A race illustrious for heroic deeds, 
 
 Humbled, but not degraded, may expire. 
 
 This pleasing fancy (cherished and upheld 
 
 By sundry recollections of such tall 
 
 From high to low, ascent from low to high, 
 
 As books record, and even the careless mind 
 
 Cannot but notice among men and thing-,) 
 
 Went with me to the place of my repose. 
 
 BOOR V. THE PASTOR. 
 
 ** Miss Sarah Hutchinson, Mrs. Wordsworth's sister . 
 and Mrs. Warter took down the ttory from the old 
 woman's lips, and Southey laid it by for the Doctor, &c. 
 She then lived in a cottage at Rydal, where I afterwards 
 saw her. Of the old man it was told me (for I did not 
 see him) " He is a perfect picture, like those we meet 
 with in the better copies of Saints in our old Prayer 
 Books." 
 
 There was another comical History intended for an 
 Interchapter to the Doctor, &c. of a runaway match to 
 Gretna Green by two people in humble life, but it was 
 not handed over to me with the MS. materials. It was 
 taken down from the mouth of the old woman who was 
 one of the parties and it would probably date back some 
 sixty or seventy years. 
 
 CHAPTER CCIX. 
 
 EARLY APPROXIMATION TO THE DOCTOR'S 
 THEORY. GEORGE FOX. ZACHARIAH BEN 
 MOHAMMED. COWPER. INSTITUTES OF 
 MENU. BARDIC PHILOSOPHY. MILTON. 
 SIR THOMAS BROWNE. 
 
 There are distinct degrees of Being as there are degrees 
 of Sound ; and the whole world is but as it were a greater 
 Gamut, or scale of music. NORRIS. 
 
 CERTAIN theologians, and certain theo- 
 sophists, as men who fancy themselves in- 
 spired sometimes affect to be called, had 
 approached so nearly to the Doctor's hypo- 
 thesis of progressive life, and propensities
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 continued in the ascending scale, that he 
 appealed to them as authorities for its sup- 
 port. They saw the truth, he said, as far as 
 they went; but it was only to a certain 
 point : a step farther and the beautiful theory 
 would have opened upon them. " How can 
 we choose, said one, but remember the mercy 
 of God in this our land in this particular, 
 that no ravenous dangerous beasts do range 
 in our nation, if men themselves would not 
 be wolves, and bears, and lions one to 
 another ! " And why are they so, observed 
 the Doctor commenting upon the words of 
 the old Divine ; why are they so, but be- 
 cause they have actually been lions, and 
 bears, and wolves ? Why are they so, but 
 because, as the wise heathen speaks, more 
 truly than he was conscious of speaking, sub 
 homlnum effigie latet ferinus animus. The 
 temper is congenital, the propensity innate ; 
 it is bred in the bone ; and what Theo- 
 logians call the old Adam, or the old Man, 
 should physiologically, and perhaps therefore 
 preferably, be called the old Beast. 
 
 That wise and good man William Jones, 
 of Nayland, has, in his sermon upon the 
 nature and oeconomy of Beasts and Cattle, a 
 passage which, in elucidating a remarkable 
 part of the Law of Moses, may serve also as 
 a glose or commentary upon the Doctor's 
 theory. 
 
 " The Law of Moses, in the xith chapter 
 of Leviticus, divides the brute creation into 
 two grand parties, from the fashion of their 
 feet, and their manner of feeding, that, is, 
 from the parting of the hoof, and the chew- 
 ing of the cud ; which properties are indica- 
 tions of their general characters, as wild or 
 tame. For the dividing of the hoof and the 
 chewing of the cud are peculiar to those 
 cattle which are serviceable to man's life, as 
 sheep, oxen, goats, deer, and their several 
 kinds. These are shod by the Creator for 
 a peaceable and inoffensive progress through 
 life ; as the Scripture exhorts us to be shod 
 in like manner with the preparation of the 
 Gospel of Peace. They live temperately 
 upon herbage, the diet of students and 
 saints ; and after the taking of their food, 
 chew it deliberately over again for better 
 
 digestion ; in which act they have all the 
 appearance a brute can assume of pensive- 
 ness or meditation ; which is, metaphorically, 
 called rumination *, with reference to this 
 property of certain animals. 
 
 " Such are these : but when we compare 
 the beasts of the field and the forest, they, 
 instead of the harmless hoof, have feet 
 which are swift to shed blood, (Rom. iii. 15.) 
 sharp claws to seize upon their prey, and 
 teeth to devour it ; such as lions, tigers, 
 leopards, wolves, foxes, and smaller vermin. 
 
 " Where one of the Mosaic marks is found, 
 and the other is wanting, such creatures are 
 of a middle character between the wild and 
 the tame ; as the swine, the hare, and some 
 others. Those that part the hoof afford us 
 wholesome nourishment ; those that are shod 
 with any kind of hoof may be made useful to 
 man ; as the camel, the horse, the ass, the 
 mule ; all of which are fit to travel and carry 
 burdens. But when the foot is divided into 
 many parts, and armed with claws, there is but 
 small hope of the manners ; such creatures 
 being in general either murderers, or hun- 
 ters, or thieves ; the malefactors and felons 
 of the brute creation : though among the 
 wild there are all the possible gradations of 
 ferocity and evil temper. 
 
 " Who can review the creatures of God, 
 as they arrange themselves under the two 
 great denominations of wild and tame, with- 
 out wondering at their different dispositions 
 and ways of life ! sheep and oxen lead a 
 sociable as well as a peaceful life ; they are 
 formed into flocks and herds ; and as they 
 live honestly they walk openly in the day. 
 The time of darkness is to them, as to the 
 virtuous and sober amongst men, a time of 
 rest. But the beast of prey goeth about in 
 
 * Pallentes ruminat herbas. VIRGII. 
 
 Dum jacet, et lentd revocatas ruminat herbas. Ovm. 
 
 It were hardly necessary to recal to an English reader's 
 recollection the words of Brutus to Cassius, 
 
 Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this, 
 
 Jl'LIUS C-WS*R. 
 
 or those of Agrippa in Antony and Cleopatra, 
 
 Pardon what I have spoke ; 
 For 'tis a studied, not a present thought, 
 By duty ruminated. 
 
 00 a
 
 5G4 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 solitude ; the time of darkness is to him the 
 time of action ; then he visits the folds of 
 sheep, and stalls of oxen, thirsting for their 
 blood ; as the thief and the murderer visits 
 the habitations of men, for an opportunity 
 of robbing, and destroying, under the con- 
 cealment of the night. When the sun 
 ariseth the beast of prey retires to the covert 
 of the forest ; and while the cattle are 
 spreading themselves over a thousand hills 
 in search of pasture, the tyrant of the desert 
 is laying himself down in his den, to sleep 
 off the fumes of his bloody meal. The ways 
 of men are not less different than the ways 
 of beasts ; and here we may see them repre- 
 sented as on a glass; for, as the quietness 
 of the pasture, in which the cattle spend 
 their day, is to the bowlings of a wilderness 
 at night, such is the virtuous life of honest 
 labour to the life of the thief, the oppressor, 
 the murderer, and the midnight gamester, 
 who live upon the losses and sufferings of 
 other men." 
 
 But how would the Doctor have delighted 
 in the first Lesson of that excellent man's 
 Book of Mature, a book more likely to be 
 useful than any other that has yet been 
 written with the same good intent. 
 
 THE BEASTS. 
 
 " The ass hath very long ears, and yet 
 he hath no sense of music, but brayeth with 
 a frightful noise. He is obstinate and un- 
 ruly, and will go his own way, even though 
 he is severely beaten. The child who will 
 not be taught is but little better ; he has 
 no delight in learning, but talketh of his 
 own folly, and disturbeth others with his 
 noise. 
 
 " The dog barketh all the night long, and 
 thinks it no trouble to rob honest people of 
 their rest. 
 
 " The fox is a cunning thief, and men, 
 when they do not fear God, are crafty and 
 deceitful. The wolf is cruel and blood- 
 thirsty. As he devoureth the kmb, so do 
 bad men oppress and tear the innocent and 
 helpless. 
 
 " The adder is a poisonous snake, and 
 hath a forked double tongue ; and so men 
 
 speak lies, and utter slanders against their 
 neighbours, when the poison of asps in under 
 their lips. The devil, who deceiveth with 
 lies, and would destroy all mankind, is the 
 old serpent, who brought death into the 
 world by the venom of his bite. He would 
 kill me, and all the children that are born, if 
 God would let him ; but Jesus Christ came 
 to save us from his power, and to destroy the 
 works of the Devil. 
 
 " Lord, thou hast made me a man for thy 
 service : O let me not dishonour thy work, 
 by turning myself into the likeness of some 
 evil beast : let me not be as the fox, who is 
 a thief and a robber : let me never be cruel, 
 as a wolf, to any of thy creatures ; especially 
 to my dear fellow-creatures, and my dearer 
 fellow Christians ; but let me be harmless 
 as the lamb ; quiet and submissive as the 
 sheep ; that so I may be fit to live, and be 
 fed on thy pasture, under the good shepherd, 
 Jesus Christ. It is far better to be the 
 poorest of his flock, than to be proud and 
 cruel, as the lion or the tiger, who go about 
 seeking what they may devour." 
 
 THE QUESTIONS. 
 
 " Q. What is the child that will not learn ? 
 
 " A. An ass, which is ignorant and unruly. 
 
 " Q. What are wicked men, who hurt and 
 cheat others ? 
 
 " A. They are wolves, and foxes, and 
 blood-thirsty lions. 
 
 " Q. What are ill-natured people, who 
 trouble their neighbours and rail at them ? 
 
 " A. They are dogs, who bark at every- 
 body. 
 
 " Q. But what are good and peaceable 
 people ? 
 
 " A. They are harmless sheep ; and little 
 children under the grace of God, are inno- 
 cent lambs. 
 
 " Q. But what are linrs? 
 
 " A. They are snakes and vipers, with 
 double tongues and poison under their lips. 
 
 " Q. Who is the good shepherd ? 
 
 *' A. Jesus Christ." 
 
 There is a passage not less apposite in 
 Donne's Epistle to Sir Edward, afterwards 
 Lord Herbert of Cher bury.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 565 
 
 Man is a lump where all beasts kneaded be ; 
 
 Wisdom makes him an Ark where all agree. 
 
 The fool in whom these beasts do live at jar, 
 
 Is sport to others and a theatre ; 
 
 Nor 'scapes he so, but is himself their prey, 
 
 All that was man in him is ate away ; 
 
 And now his beasts on one another feed, 
 
 Yet couple in anger and new monsters breed 
 
 How happy he which hath due place assign'd 
 
 To his beasts, and dUaforested his mind, 
 
 Empaled himself to keep them out, not in ; 
 
 Can sow and dares trust corn where they have been, 
 
 Can use his horse, goat, wolf and every beast, 
 
 And is not ass himself to all the rest. 
 
 To this purport the Patriarch of the 
 Quakers writes, where he saith " now some 
 men have the nature of Swine, wallowing in 
 the mire : and some men have the nature of 
 Dogs, to bite both the sheep and one 
 another : and some men have the nature of 
 Lions, to tear, devour, and destroy : and 
 some men have the nature of Wolves, to 
 tear and devour the lambs and sheep of 
 Christ : and some men have the nature of 
 the Serpent (that old destroyer) to sting, 
 evenom, and poison. He that hath an ear to 
 hear, let him hear, and learn these things 
 within himself. And some men have the 
 natures of other beasts and creatures, mind- 
 ing nothing but earthly and visible things, 
 and feeding without the fear of God. Some 
 men have the nature of a Horse, to prance 
 and vapour in their strength, and to be 
 swift in doing evil. And some men have 
 the nature of tall sturdy Oaks, to flourish 
 and spread in wisdom and strength, who are 
 strong in evil, which must perish and come 
 to the fire. Thus the Evil one is but one in 
 all, but worketh many ways ; and what- 
 soever a Man's or Woman's nature is ad- | 
 dieted to that is outward, the Evil one will 
 tit him with that, and will please his nature 
 and appetite, to keep his mind in his in- 
 ventions, and in the creatures from the 
 Creator." 
 
 To this purport the so-called Clemens 
 writes in the Apostolical Constitutions when 
 he complains that the flock of Christ was 
 devoured by Demons and wicked men, or 
 rather not men, but wild beasts in the shape 
 of men, vovtjpo^f dvVpwTrotc, ftaXXov Si oi'K 
 dt'Gpi'i-tcotQ, a\Xa Stjpioig <iv9pw7rofiimv t by , 
 Heathens, Jews and godless heretics. 
 
 With equal triumph, too, did he read a 
 passage in one of the numbers of the Con- 
 noisseur, which made him wonder that the 
 writer, from whom it proceeded in levity, 
 should not have been led on by it to the 
 clear perception of a great truth. " The 
 affinity," says that writer, who is now known 
 to have been no less a person than the author 
 of the Task, " the affinity between chatter- 
 ers and monkeys, and praters and parrots, 
 is too obvious not to occur at once. Grun- 
 ters and growlers may be justly compared 
 to hogs. Snarlers are curs that continually 
 shew their teeth, but never bite ; and the 
 spit-fire passionate are a sort of wild cats, 
 that will not bear stroking, but will purr 
 when they are pleased. Complainers are 
 screech-owls ; and story-tellers, always re- 
 peating the same dull note, are cuckoos. 
 Poets, that prick up their ears at their own 
 hideous braying, are no better than asses ; 
 critics in general are venomous serpents, that 
 delight in hissing ; and some of them, who 
 have got by heart a few technical terms, 
 without knowing their meaning, are no bet- 
 ter than magpies." 
 
 So, too, the polyonomous Arabian philoso- 
 pher Zechariah Ben Mohammed Ben Mah- 
 inud Al Camuni Al Cazvini. "Man," he 
 says, " partakes of the nature of vegetables, 
 because, like them, he grows and is nourished ; 
 he stands in this further relation to the 
 irrational animals, that he feels and moves ; 
 by his intellectual faculties he resembles the 
 higher orders of intelligences, and he par- 
 takes more or less of these various classes, 
 as his inclination leads him. If his sole wish 
 be to satisfy the wants of existence, then he 
 is content to vegetate. If he partakes more 
 of the animal than the vegetable nature, we 
 find him fierce as the lion, greedy as the 
 bull, impure as the hog, cruel as the leopard, 
 or cunning as the fox ; and if, as is some- 
 times the case, he possesses all these bad 
 qualities, he is then a demon in human 
 shape." 
 
 Gratifying as these passages were to him, 
 some of them being mere sports of wit, and 
 others only the produce of fancy, he would 
 have been indeed delighted if he had known
 
 566 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 what was in his days known by no European 
 scholar, that in the Institutes of Menu, his 
 notion is distinctly declared as a revealed 
 truth ; there it is said, " In whatever occu- 
 pation the Supreme Lord first employed 
 any vital soul, to that occupation the same 
 soul attaches itself spontaneously, when it 
 receives a new body again and again. What- 
 ever quality, noxious or innocent, harsh or 
 mild, unjust or just, false or true, he con- 
 ferred on any being at its creation, the 
 same quality enters it of course on its future 
 births." * 
 
 Still more would it have gratified him if 
 he had known (as has before been curso- 
 rily observed) how entirely his own theory 
 coincided with the Druidical philosophy, a 
 philosophy which he would rather have 
 traced to the Patriarchs, than to the Canaan- 
 ites. Their doctrine, as explained by the 
 Welsh translator of the Paradise Lost, in 
 the sketch of Bardism which he has prefixed 
 to the poems of Lly ware the Aged, was that 
 " the whole animated creation originated in 
 the lowest point of existence, and arrived by 
 a regular train of gradations at the proba- 
 tionary state of humanity, the intermediate 
 stages being all necessarily evil, but more 
 or less so as they were removed from the 
 beginning, which was evil in the extreme. 
 In the state of humanity, good and evil were 
 equally balanced, consequently it was a state 
 of liberty, in which, if the conduct of the 
 free agent preponderated towards evil, death 
 gave but an awful passage whereby he re- 
 turned to animal life, in a condition below 
 humanity equal to the degree of turpitude 
 to which he had debased himself, when free 
 to choose between good and evil : and if his 
 life were desperately wicked, it was possible 
 for him to fall to his original vileness, in the 
 lowest point of existence, there to recom- 
 mence his painful progression through the 
 ascending series of brute being. But if he 
 had acted well in this his stage of proba- 
 tion, death was then to the soul thus tried 
 and approved, what the word by which in 
 the language of the Druids it is denoted, 
 
 SIR W. JO.NES. 
 
 literally means, enlargement. The soul was 
 removed from the sphere wherein evil hath 
 any place, into a state necessarily good ; not 
 to continue there in one eternal condition 
 of blessedness, eternity being what no in- 
 ferior existence could endure, but to pass 
 from one gradation to another, gaining at 
 every ascent increase of knowledge, and 
 retaining the consciousness of its whole pre- 
 ceding progress through all. For the good 
 of the human race, such a soul might again 
 be sent on earth, but the human being of 
 which it then formed the life, was inca- 
 pable of falling." In this fancy the Bardic 
 system approached that of the Brarains, this 
 Celtic avatar of a happy soul, corresponding 
 to the twice-born man of the Hindus. And 
 the Doctor would have extracted some con- 
 firmation for the ground of the theory from 
 that verse of the Psalm which speaks of us 
 as " curiously wrought in the lowest parts 
 of the earth." 
 
 Young, he used to say, expressed uncon- 
 sciously this system of progressive life, when 
 he spoke of man as a creature 
 
 From different natures marvellously mix'd ; 
 Connection exquisite of distant worlds ; 
 Distinguish'd link in being's endless chain, 
 Midway from nothing to the Deity. 
 
 It was more distinctly enounced by Aken- 
 side. 
 
 The same paternal hand 
 
 Fronn the mute shell-fish gasping on the shore 
 To men, to angels, to celestial minds 
 Will ever lead the generations on 
 Through higher scenes of being: while, supplied 
 From day to day with his enlivening breath, 
 Inferior orders in succession rise 
 To fill the void below. As flame ascends. 
 As vapours to the earth in showers return, 
 As the pois'd ocean toward the attracting moon 
 Swells, and the ever listening planets charmed 
 By the Sun's call their onward pace incline, 
 So all things which have life aspire to God, 
 Exhaustless fount of intellectual day ! 
 Centre of souls ! nor doth the mastering voice 
 Of nature cease within to prompt aright 
 Their steps ; nor is the care of heaven withheld 
 From sending to the toil external aid, 
 That in their stations all may persevere 
 To climb the ascent of being, and approach 
 For ever nearer to the Life Divine. 
 
 The Bardic system bears in itself intrinsic 
 evidence of its antiquity ; for no such philo- 
 sophy could have been devised among any 
 Celtic people in later ages ; nor could the
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 567 
 
 Britons have derived any part of it from 
 any nation with whom they had any oppor- 
 tunity of intercourse, at any time within 
 reach of history. The Druids, or rather 
 the Bards, (for these, according to those by 
 whom their traditionary wisdom has been 
 preserved, were the superior order,) deduced 
 as corollaries from the theory of Progressive 
 Existence, these beautiful Triads.* 
 
 " There are three Circles of Existence ; 
 the Circle of Infinity, where there is nothing 
 but God, of living or dead, and none but 
 God can traverse it ; the Circle of Inchoa- 
 tion, where all things are by nature derived 
 from Death, this Circle hath been tra- 
 versed by man ; and the Circle of happiness, 
 where all things spring from life, this man 
 shall traverse in heaven. 
 
 " Animated beings having three states of 
 Existence ; that of Indication in the Great 
 Deep, or lowest point of Existence ; that of 
 Liberty in the State of Humanity ; and 
 that of Love, which is the Happiness of 
 Heaven. 
 
 " All animated Beings are subject to three 
 Necessities ; beginning in the Great Deep ; 
 Progression in the Circle of Inchoation ; and 
 Plenitude in the Circle of Happiness. With- 
 out these things nothing can possibly exist 
 but God. 
 
 " Three things are necessary in the Circle 
 of Inchoation ; the least of all, Animation, 
 
 Originally quoted in the notes to Madoc to illustrate 
 the lines which follow. 
 
 " Let the Bard, 
 
 Rxclaira'd the King, give his accustom'd lay: 
 For sweet, 1 know, to Madoc is the song 
 He loved in earlier years. 
 
 Then strong of voice, 
 The officer proclaim'd the sovereign will, 
 Bidding the hall be silent ; loud he spake 
 And emote the sounding pillar with his wand 
 And luish'd the banqueters. The chief of Bards 
 Then raised the ancient lay. 
 
 Thi e. Lord, fie tung, 
 
 Father ! Thee, whose wisdom, Thee, trfiose power, 
 Whose love, nil love, all power, all wisdmn, Thou ! 
 Tongue cannot viler, nor can heart conceive. 
 He in the lowest depth of Being framed 
 The imperishable mind ; in every change 
 Through the great circle of progressive Iff; 
 He guides and guards, till evil shall be knuirn, 
 And being known as evil cease to be ; 
 And the pure soul emancipate hi/ death. 
 The Enlarger, shall attain its end predoom'd. 
 The eternal ncwnas of eternal joy. 
 
 and thence beginning ; the materials of all 
 things, and thence Increase, which cannot 
 take place in any other state ; the formation 
 of all things out of the dead mass, and 
 thence Discriminate Individuality. 
 
 " Three things cannot but exist towards 
 all animated Beings from the nature of 
 Divine Justice: Co- sufferance in the Circle 
 of Inchoation, because without that none 
 could attain to the perfect knowledge of 
 anything ; Co-participation in the Divine 
 Love ; and Co-ultimity from the nature of 
 God's Power, and its attributes of Justice 
 and Mercy. 
 
 " There are three necessary occasions of 
 Inchoation : to collect the materials and 
 properties of every nature; to collect the 
 knowledge of everything ; and to collect 
 power towards subduing the Adverse and 
 the Devastative, and for the divestation of 
 Evil. Without this traversing every mode 
 of animated existence, no state of animation, 
 or of anything in nature, can attain to 
 plenitude." 
 
 " By the knowledge of three things will 
 all Evil and Death be diminished and sub- 
 dued; their nature, their cause, and their 
 operation. This knowledge will be obtained 
 in the Circle of Happiness." 
 
 " The three Plenitudes of Happiness : 
 Participation of every nature, with a pleni- 
 tude of One predominant; conformity to 
 every cast of genius and character, possessing 
 superior excellence in one : the love of all 
 Beings and Existences, but chiefly concen- 
 tred in one object, which is God ; and in 
 the predominant One of each of these, will 
 the Plenitude of Happiness consist." 
 
 Triads, it may be observed, are found in 
 the Proverbs of Solomon : so that to the 
 evidence of antiquity which these Bardic 
 remains present in their doctrines, a pre- 
 sumption is to be added from the peculiar 
 form in which they are conveyed. 
 
 Whether Sir Philip Sydney had any such 
 theory in his mind or not, there is an ap- 
 proach to it in that fable which he says old 
 Lanquet taught him of the Beasts desiring 
 from Jupiter, a King, Jupiter consented, but 
 on Condition that they should contribute the
 
 568 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 qualities convenient for the new and superior 
 creature. 
 
 Full glad they were, and took the naked sprite, 
 Which straight the Earth yclothed in her clay ; 
 
 The Lion heart, the Ounce gave active might ; 
 The Horse, good shape ; the Sparrow lust to play ; 
 Nightingale, voice enticing songs to say ; 
 
 Elephant gave a perfect memory, 
 
 And Parrot, ready tongue that to apply. 
 
 The Fox gave craft ; the Dog gave flattery ; 
 Ass, patience ; the Mole, a working thought ; 
 
 Eagle, high look ; Wolf, secret cruelty ; 
 Monkey, sweet breath ; the Cow, her fair eyes brought : 
 The Ermine, whitest skin, spotted with nought. 
 
 The Sheep, mild-seeming face ; climbing the Bear, 
 
 The Stag did give his harm-eschewing fear. 
 
 The Hare, her slights ; the Cat, her melancholy ; 
 
 Ant, industry ; and Coney, skill to build ; 
 Cranes, order ; Storks, to be appearing holy ; 
 
 Cameleous, ease to change ; Duck, ease to yield ; 
 
 Crocodile, tears which might be falsely spill d ; 
 Ape, great thing gave, tho' he did mowing stand, 
 The instrument of instruments, the hand. 
 
 Thus Man was made, thus Man their Lord became. 
 At such a system he thought Milton 
 glanced when his Satan speaks of the in- 
 fluences of the heavenly bodies, as 
 
 Productive in herb, plant, and nobler birth 
 
 Of creatures animate with gradual life 
 
 Of growth, sense, reason, all summ'd up in man : 
 
 for that the lines, though capable of another 
 interpretation, ought to be interpreted as 
 referring to a scheme of progressive life, ap- 
 pears by this fuller developement in the 
 ^peech of Rafael ; 
 
 O Adam, one Almighty is, from whom 
 
 All things proceed, and up to him return, 
 
 If not deprav'd from good, created all 
 
 Such to perfection, one first matter all, 
 
 Indued with various forms, various degrees 
 
 Of substance, and in things that live, of life ; 
 
 But more retin'd, more spiritous, and pure, 
 
 As nearer to him plac'd, or nearer tending 
 
 Each in their several active spheres assign'd, 
 
 Till body up to spirit work, in bounds 
 
 Proportion'd to each kind. So from the root 
 
 Springs lighter the green stalk, from thence the leaves 
 
 More aery, last the bright consummate flower 
 
 Spirits odorous breathes : flow'rs and their fruit, 
 
 Man's nourishment, by gradual scale sublimed, 
 
 To vital spirits aspire, to animal, 
 
 To intellectual ; give both life and sense 
 
 Fancy and understanding ; whence the soul 
 
 Reason received, and reason is her being 
 
 Discursii e, or intuitive ; discourse 
 
 Is oftest yours, the latter most is ours, 
 
 Differing but in degree, of kind the same.* 
 
 Whether that true philosopher, in the 
 exact import of the word, Sir Thomas 
 
 Spenser in his " Hymne of Heavenly Beautie " falls 
 Into a similar train of thought, as is observed by Thyer : 
 
 Browne, had formed a system of this kind, 
 or only threw out a seminal idea from which 
 it might be evolved, the Doctor, who dearly 
 loved the writings of this most meditative 
 author, would not say. But that Sir Thomas 
 had opened the same vein of thought ap- 
 pears in what Dr. Johnson censured in " a 
 very fanciful and indefensible section" of 
 his Christian Morals ; for there, and not 
 among his Pseudodoxia Epidemics, that is 
 to say, Vulgar Errors, the passage is found. 
 Our Doctor would not only have deemed it 
 defensible, but would have proved it to be 
 so by defending it. " Since the brow," says 
 the Philosopher of Norwich, " speaks often 
 truth, since eyes and noses have tongues, 
 and the countenance proclaims the heart 
 and inclinations ; let observation so far in- 
 struct thee in physiognomical lines, as to be 
 some rule for thy distinction, and guide 
 for thy affection unto such as look most like 
 men. Mankind, methinks, is comprehended 
 in a few faces, if we exclude all visages 
 which any way participate of symmetries 
 and schemes of look common unto other 
 animals. For as though man were the 
 extract of the world, in whom all were in 
 coagulate, which in their forms were in 
 soluto, and at extension, we often observe 
 that men do most act those creatures whose 
 constitution, parts and complexion, do most 
 predominate in their mixtures. This is a 
 corner-stone in physiognomy, and holils 
 some truth, not only in particular persons, 
 but also in whole nations." f 
 
 But Dr. Johnson must cordially have as- 
 sented to Sir Thomas Browne's inferential 
 admonition. " Live," says that Religious 
 Physician and Christian Moralist, "live 
 unto the dignity of thy nature, and leave it 
 not disputable at last whether thou hast 1 
 
 By view whereof it plainly may appeare 
 
 That still as every thing doth upward tend, 
 
 And further is from earth, so still more cleare 
 
 Andfaire it grows, till to his perfect end 
 
 Of pure- 1 beautie it at last ascend ; 
 
 Ayre more than water, fire much more than ayre. 
 
 And heaven than fire, appeares more pure and fayre. 
 
 But these are somewhat of Pythagorean speculationi - 
 caught up by Lucretius and Virgil, 
 t Part ii. Section 9.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 569 
 
 been a man, or since thou art a composition 
 of man and beast, how thou hast predomi- 
 nantly passed thy days, to state the deno- 
 mination. Un-man not, therefore, thyself 
 by a bestial transformation, nor realize old 
 fables. Expose not thyself by fourfooted 
 manners unto monstrous draughts and ca- 
 ricature representations. Think not after 
 the old Pythagorean concert what beast 
 thou mayest be after death. Be not under 
 any brutal metempsychosis while thou livest 
 and walkest about erectly under that scheme 
 of man. In thine own circumference, as in 
 that of the earth, let the rational horizon be 
 larger than the sensible, and the circle of 
 reason than of sense : let the divine part be 
 upward, and the region of beast below : 
 otherwise it is but to live invertedly, and 
 with thy head unto the heels of thy antipodes. 
 Desert not thy title to a divine particle and 
 union with invisibles. Let true knowledge 
 and virtue tell the lower world thou art a 
 part of the higher. Let thy thoughts be of 
 things which have not entered into the 
 hearts of beasts ; think of things long past, 
 and long to come ; acquaint thyself with the 
 choragium of the stars, and consider the 
 vast expansion beyond them. Let intel- 
 lectual tubes give thee a glance of things 
 which visive organs reach not. Have a 
 glimpse of incomprehensible, and thoughts 
 of things, which thoughts but tenderly 
 touch. Lodge immaterials in thy head, 
 ascend unto invisibles ; fill thy spirit with 
 spirituals, with the mysteries of faith, the 
 magnalities of religion, and thy life with the 
 honour of God ; without which, though 
 giants in wealth and dignity, we are but 
 dwarfs and pygmies in humanity, and may 
 hold a pitiful rank in that triple division of 
 mankind into heroes, men and beasts. For 
 though human souls are said to be equal, 
 yet is there no small inequality in their 
 operations ; some maintain the allowable 
 station of men, many are far below it ; and 
 some have been so divine as to approach 
 the apogeum of their natures, and to be in 
 the confinium of spirits." 
 
 CHAPTER CCX. 
 
 A QUOTATION FROM BISHOP BERKELEY, AND 
 A HIT AT THE SMALL CBITICS. 
 
 Plusicurs blameront fentassement de passages fut Ton 
 vien' de oir ; faiprevu leurs dedains, leurs riegudls, ft 
 If tn s censures magistrates ; et n'ai pas vovlu y avoir 
 egard. BAYLE. 
 
 HERB I shall inform the small critic, what it 
 is, "a thousand pounds to one penny," as 
 the nursery song says, or as the newspaper 
 reporters of the Ring have it, Lombard 
 Street to a China Orange, no small critic 
 already knows, whether he be diurnal, 
 hebdomadal, monthly or trimestral, that a 
 notion of progressive Life is mentioned in 
 Bishop Berkeley's Minute Philosopher, not 
 as derived from any old system of philosophy 
 or religion, but as the original speculation 
 of one who belonged to a club of Free- 
 thinkers. Another member of that worship- 
 ful society explains the system of his ac- 
 quaintance, thus : 
 
 " He made a threefold partition of the 
 human species into Birds, Beasts and Fishes, 
 being of opinion that the Road of Life lies 
 upwards in a perpetual ascent, through the 
 scale of Being : in such sort, that the souls 
 of insects after death make their second 
 appearance in the shape of perfect animals, 
 Birds, Beasts or Fishes; which upon their 
 death are preferred into human bodies, and 
 in the next stage into Beings of a higher 
 and more perfect kind. This man we con- 
 sidered at first as a sort of heretic, because 
 his scheme seemed not to consist with our 
 fundamental tenet, the Mortality of the 
 Soul: but he justified the notion to be 
 innocent, inasmuch as it included nothing of 
 reward or punishment, and was not proved 
 by any argument which supposed or implied 
 either incorporeal spirit, or Providence, 
 being only inferred, by way of analogy, from 
 what he had observed in human affairs, the 
 Court, the Church, and the Army, wherein 
 the tendency is always upwards, from lower 
 posts to higher. According to this system, 
 the Fishes are those men who swim in plea- 
 sure, such as petits maitrcs, bons vivans, and
 
 070 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 honest fellows. The Beasts are dry, 
 drudging, covetous, rapacious folk, and all 
 those addicted to care and business like 
 oxen, and other dry land animals, which 
 spend their lives in labour and fatigue. 
 The Birds are airy, notional men, En- 
 thusiasts, Projectors, Philosophers, and such 
 like ; in each species every individual re- 
 taining a tincture of his former state, which 
 constitutes what is called genius." 
 
 The quiet reader who sometimes lifts his 
 eyes from the page (and closes them per- 
 haps) to meditate upon what he has been 
 reading, will perhaps ask himself wherefore 
 I consider it to be as certain that no small 
 critic should have read the Minute Phi- 
 losopher, as that children cannot be drowned 
 while " sliding on dry ground ? " My 
 reason for so thinking is, that small critics 
 never read anything so good. Like town 
 ducks they dabble in the gutter, but never 
 purify themselves in clear streams, nor take 
 to the deep waters. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXI. 
 
 SOMETHING IN HONOUR OF BISHOP WATSON. 
 CUDWORTH. JACKSON OF OXFORD AND 
 NEWCASTLE. A BAXTERIAN SCRUPLE. 
 
 S'il y a des lectcurs qui se soucient pen de cela, on les 
 pric de se souvenir qu'un auleur n'est pas oblige & ne rien 
 dire que ce qui est de leur gout. BA YLE. 
 
 HAD my ever-by-me-to-be-lamented friend, 
 and from this time forth, I trust, ever-by-the- 
 public-to-be-honoured philosopher, been a 
 Welshman ; or had he lived to become ac- 
 quainted with the treasures of Welsh lore 
 which Edward Williams, William Owen, and 
 Edward Davies, the Curate of Olveston, 
 have brought to light ; he would have be- 
 lieved in the Bardic system as heartily as the 
 Glamorganshire and Merionethshire Bards 
 themselves, and have fitted it, without any 
 apprehension of heresy, to his own religious 
 creed. And although he would have per- 
 ceived with the Curate of Olveston (worthy 
 of the best Welsh Bishoprick for his labours; 
 O George the Third, why did no one tell 
 
 thee that he was so, when he dedicated to 
 thee his Celtic Researches ?), although (I 
 say) he would have perceived that certain of 
 the Druidical rites were derived from an ac- 
 cursed origin, a fact authenticated by 
 their abominations, and rendered certain by 
 the historical proof that the Celtic language 
 affords in both those dialects wherein any 
 genuine remains have been preserved, that 
 knowledge would still have left him at liberty 
 to adopt such other parts of the system as 
 harmonised with his own speculations, and 
 were not incompatible with the Christian 
 faith. How he would have reconciled them 
 shall be explained when I have taken this 
 opportunity of relating something of the late 
 Right Reverend Father in God, Richard 
 Watson, Lord Bishop of Llandaff, which is 
 more to his honour than anything that he 
 has related of himself. He gave the Curate 
 of Olveston, upon George Hardinge's recom- 
 mendation, a Welsh Rectory, which, though 
 no splendid preferment, placed that patient, 
 and learned, and able and meritorious poor 
 man, in a respectable station, and conferred 
 upon him (as he gratefully acknowledged) 
 the comfort of independence. 
 
 My friend had been led by Cudworth to 
 this reasonable conclusion that there was a 
 theology of divine tradition, or revelation, 
 or a divine cabala, amongst the Hebrews first, 
 and from them afterward communicated to 
 the Egyptians and other nations. He had 
 learned also from that greater theologian 
 Jackson of Corpus (whom the Laureate 
 Southey (himself to be commended for so 
 doing) loses no opportunity of commend- 
 ing) * that divine communion was not con- 
 fined to the Israelites before their distinc- 
 tion from other nations, and that " idolatry 
 and superstition could not have increased so 
 much in the old world, unless there had been 
 evident documents of a divine power in ages 
 precedent;" for "strange fables and lying 
 
 * Since Southey's death, Jackson's Works, to the much 
 satisfaction of all sound theologians, have been reprinted 
 at the Clarendon Press. I once heard Mr. Parker the 
 Bookseller the uncle of the present Mr. Parker say, 
 that he recollected the sheets of the Folio Edition being 
 used as wrappers in the shops ! Alexander's dust as a 
 bung to a beer-barrel, quotha !
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 671 
 
 wonders receive being from notable and ad- 
 mirable decayed truths, as baser creatures 
 do life from the dissolution of more noble 
 bodies." These were the deliberate opinions 
 of men not more distinguished among their 
 contemporaries and eminent above their 
 successors, for the extent of their erudition, 
 than remarkable for capacity of mind and 
 sobriety of judgment. And with these the 
 history of the Druidical system entirely ac- 
 cords. It arose " from the gradual or acci- 
 dental corruption of the patriarchal religion, 
 by the abuse of certain commemorative 
 honours which were paid to the ancestors of 
 the human race, and by the admixture of 
 Saba;an Molatry ;" and on the religion thus 
 corrupted some Canaanite abominations were 
 engrafted by the Phoenicians. But as in 
 other apostacies, a portion of original truth 
 was retained in it. 
 
 Indeed just as remains of the antediluvian 
 world are found everywhere in the bowels 
 of the earth, so are traces not of scriptural 
 history alone, but of primeval truths, to be 
 discovered in the tradition of savages, their 
 wild fables, and their bewildered belief; as 
 well as in the elaborate systems of heathen 
 mythology and the principles of what may 
 deserve to be called divine philosophy. The 
 farther our researches are extended, the 
 more of these collateral proofs are collected, 
 and consequently the stronger their collec- 
 tive force becomes. Research and reflection 
 lead also to conclusions as congenial to the 
 truly Christian heart as they may seem start- 
 ling to that which is Christian in everything 
 except in charity. Impostors acting only 
 for their own purposes have enunciated holy 
 truths, which in many of their followers 
 have brought forth fruits of holiness. True 
 miracles have been worked in false religions. 
 Nor ought it to be doubted that prayers 
 which have been directed to false Gods in 
 erring, but innocent, because unavoidable 
 misbelief, have been heard and accepted by 
 that most merciful Father, whose eye is over 
 all his creatures, and who hateth nothing 
 thai he hath made. Here, be it remarked, 
 that Baxter has protested against this fine 
 expression in that paper of exceptions 
 
 against the Common Prayer which he pre- 
 pared for the Savoy Meeting, and which his 
 colleagues were prudent enough to set aside, 
 lest it should give offence, they said, but pro- 
 bably because the more moderate of them 
 were ashamed of its frivolous and captious 
 cavillings ; the Collect in which it occurs, he 
 said, hath no reason for appropriation to the 
 first day of Lent, and this part of it is un- 
 handsomely said, being true only in a for- 
 mal sense qua tails, for " he hateth all the 
 works of iniquity." Thus did he make ini- 
 quity the work of God, a blasphemy from 
 which he would have revolted with just ab- 
 horrence if it had been advanced by another 
 person : but dissent had become in him a 
 cachexy of the intellect. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXII. 
 
 SPECULATIONS CONNECTED WITH THE DOC- 
 THEORY. DOUBTS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 Vot'ld bien ties mysteres, dira-t-on ; fen conviens ; aussi 
 le sttjet le mirite-t-il bien. Au reste, il est certain qae 
 ces mysteres ne cachent rien de mauvais. GOMGAM. 
 
 BUT although the conformity of the Bardic 
 system to his own notions of progressive 
 existence would have appeared to the Doctor 
 
 confirmation strong 
 As proof of holy writ, 
 
 he would have assented to that system no 
 farther than such preceding conformity ex- 
 tended. Holding it only as the result of his 
 own speculations, as hypothesis, a mere 
 fancy, a toy of the mind, a plaything 
 for the intellect in its lighter moments, and 
 sometimes in its graver ones the subject of a 
 dream, he valued it accordingly. And yet 
 the more he sported with it, and the farther 
 he pursued it in his reveries, the more 
 plausible it appeared, and the better did it 
 seem to explain some of the physical pheno- 
 mena, and some of the else seemingly inex- 
 plicable varieties of human nature. It was 
 Henry More's opinion that the Pre-existence 
 of the Soul, which is so explicit and fre- 
 quent a doctrine of the Platonists, " was a 
 tenet for which there are many plausible
 
 572 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 reasons, and against which there is nothing 
 considerable to be alleged ; being a key," he 
 said, "for some main mysteries of Providence 
 which no other can so handsomely unlock." 
 More however, the Doctor thought, might be 
 advanced against that tenet, than against his 
 own scheme, for to that no valid objection 
 could be opposed. But the metempsychosis 
 in a descending scale as a scheme of punish- 
 ment would have been regarded by him as 
 one of those corruptions which the Bards 
 derived from the vain philosophy or false 
 religions of the Levant. 
 
 Not that this part of their scheme was 
 without a certain plausibility on the surface, 
 which might recommend it to inconsiderate 
 minds. He himself would have thought that 
 no Judge ever pronounced a more just deci- 
 sion than the three Infernal Lord Chancellors 
 of the dead would do, if they condemned his 
 townsman the pettyfogger to skulk upon 
 earth again as a pole-cat, creep into holes as 
 an earwig, and be flattened again between 
 the thumbnails of a London chambermaid, 
 or exposed to the fatal lotion of Mr. Tiffin, 
 bug-destroyer to his Majesty. It was fitting, 
 he thought, that every keen sportsman, for 
 once at least, should take the part of the in- 
 ferior creature in those amusements of the 
 field which he had followed so joyously, and 
 that he should be winged in the shape of a 
 partridge, run down in the form of a hare by 
 the hounds, and Actaeonised in a stag : that 
 the winner of a Welsh main should be the 
 cock of one, and die of the wounds received 
 in the last fight ; that the merciless post- 
 master should become a post-horse at his 
 own inn ; and that they who have devised, 
 or practised, or knowingly permitted any 
 wanton cruelty for the sake of pampering 
 their appetites, should in the next stage of 
 their existence feel in their own person the 
 effect of those devices, which in their human 
 state they had only tasted. And not being 
 addicted himself to " the most honest, in- 
 genuous, quiet, and harmless art of angling," 
 (forgive him Sir Humphrey Davy ! forgive 
 him Chantrey ! forgive him, thou best of all 
 publishers, John Major, who mightest write 
 Ne plus ultra upon thy edition of any book 
 
 which thou delightest to honour,) he allowed 
 that even Izaak Walton of blessed memory 
 could not have shown cause for mitigation 
 of the sentence, if Rhadamanthus and his 
 colleagues in the Court below, had con- 
 demned him to be spitted upon the hook of 
 some dear lover and ornament of the art, in 
 the shape of " a black snail with his belly 
 slit to shew the white ;" or of a perch, which 
 of fish, he tells us, is the longest lived on a 
 hook ; or sewed him metempsycho-sized into 
 a frog, to the arming iron, with a fine needle 
 and silk, with only one stitch, using him in 
 so doing, according to his own minute direc- 
 tions, as if he loved him, that is, harming 
 him as little as he possibly mightf that he 
 might live the longer. 
 
 This would be fitting, he thought, and 
 there would have been enough of purgatory 
 in it to satisfy the sense of vindictive justice, 
 if any scheme of purgatory had been recon- 
 cilable with his scriptural belief. Bishop 
 Hall has a passage in his Choice Helps for a 
 Pious Spirit, which might be taken in the 
 sense of this opinion, though certainly no 
 such meaning was intended by the writer. 
 " Man," he says, " as he consists of a double 
 nature, flesh and spirit, so is he placed in a 
 middle rank, betwixt an angel, which is a 
 spirit, and a beast, which is flesh : partaking 
 of the qualities and performing the acts of 
 both. He is angelical in his understanding, 
 in his sensual affections bestial ; and to 
 whether of these he most incline and com- 
 forteth himself, that part wins more of the 
 other, and gives a denomination to him ; so 
 as he that was before half angel, half beast, 
 if he be drowned in sensuality, hath lost the 
 angel and is become a beast ; if he be wholly 
 taken up with heavenly meditations, he hath 
 quit the beast, and is improved angelical. It 
 is hard to hold an equal temper, either he 
 must degenerate into a beast, or be advanced 
 to an angel." 
 
 Had the Doctor held this opinion accord- 
 ing to the letter, and believed that those 
 who brutalised their nature in the stage of 
 humanity, were degraded to the condition 
 of brutes after death, he could even have 
 persuaded himself that intelligible indica-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 573 
 
 tioas of stub a trans, igration might be dis- 
 covered in the eyes of a dog when he looks 
 to some hard master for mercy, or to some 
 kind one for notice, and as it were for a 
 recognition of the feelings and thoughts 
 which had no other means of expression. 
 But he could not have endured to think it 
 possible that the spaniel who stood beside 
 him in mute supplication, with half-erected 
 ears, looking for a morsel of food, might be 
 a friend or relation ; and that in making a 
 troublesome or a thievish cur slink away 
 with his tail between his legs, he might be 
 hurting the feelings of an old acquaintance. 
 And indeed on the whole it would have 
 disturbed his sense of order, to think that 
 while some inferior creatures were in- 
 tently and unconsciously ascending in the 
 scale of existence through their appointed 
 p-adations, others were being degraded to a 
 condition below humanity for their sins 
 committed in the human state. Punishment 
 such degradation could not be deemed, 
 unless the soul so punished retained its 
 consciousness ; and such consciousness would 
 make it a different being from those who 
 were externally of its fellow kind, and thus 
 would the harmony of nature be destroyed : 
 and to introduce discord there were to bring 
 back Chaos Bad enough, as he saw, is the 
 inequality which prevails among mankind, 
 though without it men would soon be all 
 upon the dead level of animal and ferine 
 life : But what is it to that which would 
 appear in the lower world, if in the same 
 species some individuals were guided only 
 by their own proper instincts, and others 
 endued with the consciousness of a human 
 and reasonable mind ? 
 
 The consequences also of such a doctrine 
 where it was believed could not but lead to 
 pitiable follies, and melancholy superstitions. 
 Has humanity ever been put to a viler use 
 than by the Banians at Surat, who support 
 a hospital for vermin in that city, and 
 regale the souls of their friends who are 
 undergoing penance in the shape of fleas, or 
 in loathsome pedicular form, by hiring 
 beggars to go in among them, and afforc 
 them pasture for the night ! 
 
 Even from his own system consequences 
 "ollowed which he could not reconcile to his 
 wishes. Fond as he was of animals, it would 
 lave been a delight to him if he could have 
 aelieved with the certainty of faith that he 
 should have with him in Heaven all that he 
 lad loved on earth. But if they were only 
 so many vehicles of the living spirit during 
 its ascent to humanity, only the egg, the 
 aterpillar and the aurelia from which the 
 buman but immortal Psyche was to come 
 forth at last, then must their uses be at an 
 end in this earthly state : and Paradise he 
 was sometimes tempted to think would want 
 something if there were no* beautiful insects 
 to hover about its flowers, no birds to 
 warble in its groves or glide upon its waters, 
 would not be the Paradise he longed for 
 unless the lion were there to lie down with 
 the lamb, and the antelope reclined its 
 gentle head upon the leopard's breast. 
 Fitting, and desirable, and necessary he con- 
 sidered the extinction of all noxious kinds, 
 all which were connected with corruption, 
 and might strictly be said to be of the earth 
 earthly. But in his Paradise he would fain 
 have whatever had been in Eden, before 
 Paradise was lost, except the serpent. 
 
 " I can hardly," says an English officer 
 who was encamped in India near a lake 
 overstocked with fish, " I can hardly censure 
 the taste of the Indians, who banish from a 
 consecrated pond the net of the fisher, the 
 angler's hook and the fowler's gun. Shoals 
 of large fish giving life to the clear water of 
 a large lake covered with flocks of aquatic 
 birds, afford to the sight a gratification 
 which would be ill exchanged for the mo- 
 mentary indulgence of appetite." My ex- 
 cellent friend would heartily have agreed 
 with this Englishman ; but in the waters of 
 Paradise he would have thought, neither did 
 the fish prey upon each other, nor the birds 
 upon them, death not being necessary there 
 as the means of providing aliment for life. 
 
 That there are waters in the Regions oi 
 the Blessed, Bede, it is said, assures us for 
 this reason, that they are necessary there to 
 temper the heat of the Sun. And Cornelius 
 a Lapide has found out a most admirable
 
 674 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 use for them above the firmament, which 
 is to make rivers, and fountains, and water- 
 works for the recreation of the souls in bliss, 
 whose seat is in the Empyrean Heaven. 
 
 " If an herd of kine," says Fuller, "should 
 meet together to fancy and define happiness, 
 (that is to imagine a Paradise for them- 
 selves,) they would place it to consist in 
 fine pastures, sweet grass, clear water, 
 shadowy groves, constant summer; but if 
 any winter, then warm shelter and dainty 
 hay, with company after their kind, counting 
 these low things the highest happiness, 
 because their conceit can reach no higher. 
 Little better do the heathen poets describe 
 Heaven, paving it with pearl and roofing it 
 with stars, filling it with Gods and God- 
 desses, and allowing them to drink, (as if 
 without it, no poet's Paradise,) nectar and 
 ambrosia." 
 
 CHAPTER CCXIH. 
 
 BIRDS OF PARADISE. THE ZIZ. STORY OF 
 THE ABBOT OF ST. SALVADOR DE VILLAR. 
 HOLT COLETTE'S NONDESCRIPT PET. THE 
 ANIMALCULAR WORLD. GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 And so I came to Fancy's meadows, strow'd 
 
 With many a flower ; 
 Fain would I here have made abode, 
 But I was quickened by my hour. HERBERT. 
 
 HINDOOS and Mahommedans have stocked 
 their heavens not only with mythological 
 monsters but with beautiful birds of celestial 
 kind. They who have read Thalaba will 
 remember the 
 
 Green warbler of the bowers of Paradise : 
 
 and they who will read the history of the 
 Nella-Rajah, which whosoever reads or 
 relates shall (according to the author) enjoy 
 all manner of happiness and planetary bliss, 
 that is to say, all the good fortune that 
 can be bestowed by the nine great lumi- 
 naries which influence human events, 
 they who read that amusing story will find 
 that in the world of Daivers, or Genii, there 
 are milk-white birds called Aunnays, re- 
 markable for the gracefulness of their walk, 
 
 wonderfully endowed with knowledge and 
 speech, incapable of deceit, and having 
 power to look into the thoughts of men. 
 
 These creatures of imagination are con- 
 ceived in better taste than the Rabbis have 
 displayed in the invention of their great 
 bird Ziz, whose head when he stands in the 
 deep sea reaches up to Heaven ; whose 
 wings when they are extended darken the 
 sun ; and one of whose eggs happening to 
 fall crushed three hundred cedars, and 
 breaking in the fall, drowned sixty cities in 
 ! its yolk. That fowl is reserved for the dinner 
 of the Jews in heaven, at which Leviathan 
 I is to be the fish, and Behemoth the roast 
 meat. There will be cut and come again at 
 all of them ; and the carvers, of whatever 
 rank in the hierarchy they may be, will 
 have no sinecure office that day. 
 
 The monks have given us a prettier tale ; 
 praise be to him who composed, but 
 the liar's portion to those who made it pass 
 for truth. There was an Abbot of S. 
 Salvador de Villar who lived in times when 
 piety flourished, and Saints on earth enjoyed 
 a visible communion with Heaven. This 
 holy man used in the intervals of his litur- 
 gical duties to recreate himself by walking 
 in a pine forest near his monastery, em- 
 ploying his thoughts the while in divine 
 meditations. One day when thus engaged 
 during his customary walk, a bird in size 
 and appearance resembling a blackbird 
 alighted before him on one of the trees, and 
 began so sweet a song, that in the delight of 
 listening the good Abbot lost all sense of 
 time and place, and of all earthly things, 
 remaining motionless and in extasy. He 
 returned not to the Convent at his accus- 
 tomed hour, and the Monks supposed that 
 he had withdrawn to some secret solitude ; 
 and would resume his office when his in- 
 tended devotion there should have been 
 compleated. So long a time elapsed without 
 his reappearance that it was necessary to 
 appoint a substitute for him pro tempore ; 
 his disappearance and the forms observed 
 upon this occasion being duly registered. 
 Seventy years passed by, during all which 
 time no one who entered the pine forest ever
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 lighted upon the Abbot, nor did he think of 
 anything but the bird before him, nor hear 
 anything but the song which filled his soul 
 with contentment, nor eat, nor drink, nor 
 sleep, nor feel either want, or weariness, or 
 exhaustion. The bird at length ceased to 
 sing and took flight: and the Abbot then, as 
 if he had remained there only a few minutes, 
 returned to the monastery. He marvelled 
 as he approached at certain alterations about 
 the place, and still more when upon entering 
 the house, he knew none of the brethren 
 whom he saw, nor did any one appear to 
 know him. The matter was soon explained, 
 his name being well known, and the manner 
 of his disappearance matter of tradition 
 there as well as of record : miracles were not 
 so uncommon then as to render any proof 
 of identity necessary, and they proposed 
 to reinstate him in his office. But the 
 holy man was sensible that after so great a 
 favour had been vouchsafed him, he was not 
 to remain a sojourner upon earth ; so he 
 exhorted them to live in peace with one 
 another, and in the fear of God, and in the 
 strict observance of their rule, and to let 
 him end his days in quietness ; and in a few 
 days, even as he expected, it came to pass, 
 and he fell asleep in the Lord. 
 
 The dishonest monks who, for the honour 
 of their Convent and the lucre of gain, 
 palmed this lay (for such in its origin it was) 
 upon their neighbours as a true legend, 
 added to it, that the holy Abbot was in- 
 terred in the cloisters ; that so long as the 
 brethren continued in the observance of 
 their rule, and the place of his interment 
 was devoutly visited, the earth about it 
 proved a certain cure for many maladies, but 
 that in process of time both church and 
 cloisters became so dilapidated through decay 
 of devotion, that cattle strayed into them, 
 till the monks and the people of the vicinity 
 were awakened to a sense of their sin and of 
 their duty, by observing that every animal 
 which trod upon the Abbot's grave fell and 
 broke its le<r.* The relics therefore were 
 
 * Superstition is confined to no country, but is spread, 
 more or less, over all. The classical reader will call to 
 mind what Herodotus tells happened in the territory of 
 
 translated with due solemnity, and deposited 
 in a new monument, on which the story of 
 the miracle, in perpetitam rei memoriam, was 
 represented in bas-relief. 
 
 The Welsh have a tradition concerning 
 the Birds of Rhianon, a female personage 
 who hath a principal part in carrying on the 
 spells in Gwlad yr Hud, or the Enchanted 
 Land of Pembrokeshire. Whoso happened 
 to hear the singing of her birds stood seven 
 years listening, though he supposed the 
 while that only an hour or two had elapsed. 
 Owen Pughe could have told us more of 
 these Birds. 
 
 Some Romish legends speak of birds which 
 were of no species known on earth and who 
 by the place and manner of their appear- 
 ances were concluded to have come from 
 Paradise, or to have been celestial spirits in 
 that form. Holy Colette of portentous 
 sanctify, the Reformeress of the Poor Clares, 
 and from whom a short-lived variety of the 
 Franciscans were called Colettines, was 
 favoured, according to her biographers, with 
 frequent visits by a four-footed pet, which 
 was no mortal creature. It was small, re- 
 sembling a squirrel in agility, and an ermine 
 in the snowy whiteness of its skin, but not 
 in other respects like either ; and it had this 
 advantage over all earthly pets, that it was 
 sweetly and singularly fragrant. It would 
 play about the saint, and invite her at- 
 tention by its gambols. Colette felt a 
 peculiar and mysterious kind of pleasure 
 when it showed itself; and for awhile not 
 supposing that there was anything super- 
 natural in its appearance, endeavoured to 
 catch it, for she delighted in having lambs 
 and innocent birds to fondle : but though 
 the Nuns closed the door, and used every 
 art and effort to entice or catch it, the little 
 nondescript always either eluded them, or 
 vanished ; and it never tasted of any food 
 which they set before it. This miracle 
 being unique in its kind is related with 
 becoming admiration by the chroniclers of 
 the Seraphic Order ; as it well may, for, 
 for a monastic writer to invent a new 
 
 Agyllaei. Clio. c. 167, i-yivira Siam-foQa xxi lu.irr.fa. xeu 
 fafarihlKM, liAola; Xfofiara, xo.i imo^uyia. a,i itBfurti.
 
 576 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 miracle of any kind evinces no ordinary- 
 power of invention. 
 
 If this story be true, and true it must be 
 unless holy Colette's reverend Roman Ca- 
 tholic biographers are liars, its truth cannot 
 be admitted sans tirer a consequence ; and it 
 would follow as a corollary not to be dis- 
 puted, that there are animals in the world of 
 Angels. And on the whole it accorded with 
 the general bearing of the Doctor's notions 
 (notions rather than opinions he liked to call 
 them where they were merely speculative) 
 to suppose that there may be as much 
 difference between the zoology of that world, 
 and of this, as is found in the zoology and 
 botany of widely distant regions here, ac- 
 cording to different circumstances of climate : 
 and rather to imagine that there were ce- 
 lestial birds, beasts, fishes, and insects, 
 exempt from evil, and each happy in its kind 
 to the full measure of its capacity for hap- 
 piness, than to hold the immortality of 
 brutes. Cudworth's authority had some 
 weight with him on this subject, where the 
 Platonical divine says that as " human souls 
 could not possibly be generated out of 
 matter, but were some time or other created 
 by the Almighty out of nothing preexisting, 
 either in generations, or before them," so if 
 it be admitted that brute animals are " not 
 mere machines, or automata, (as some seem 
 inclinable to believe,) but conscious and 
 thinking beings ; then, from the same prin- 
 ciple of reason, it will likewise follow, that 
 their souls cannot be generated out of 
 matter neither, and therefore must be de- 
 rived from the fountain of all life, and 
 created out of nothing by Him ; who, since 
 he can as easily annihilate as create, and 
 does all for the best, no man need at all to 
 trouble himself about their permanency, or 
 immortality." 
 
 Now though the Doctor would have been 
 pleased to think, with the rude Indian, that 
 when he was in a state of existence wherein 
 no evil could enter, 
 
 His faithful dog should bear him company, 
 he felt the force of this reasoning ; and he 
 perceived also that something analogous to 
 the annihilation there intended might be 
 
 discerned in his own hypothesis. For in 
 what may be called the visible creation he 
 found nothing resembling that animalcular 
 world which the microscope has placed 
 within reach of our senses ; nothing like 
 those monstrous and prodigious forms which 
 Leeuwenhoeck, it must be believed, has 
 faithfully delineated. Bishop has a beau- 
 tiful epigram upon the theme KU\U Trityavrai : 
 
 When thro' a chink *, a darkened room 
 
 Admits the solar beam, 
 Down the long light that breaks the gloom, 
 
 Millions of atoms stream. 
 
 In sparkling agitation bright, 
 
 Alternate dyes they bear ; 
 Too small for any sense but sight, 
 
 Or any sight, but there. 
 
 Nature reveals not all her store 
 
 To human search, or skill ; 
 And when she deigns to shew us more 
 
 She shows us Beauty still. 
 
 But the microscopic world affords us excep- 
 tions to this great moral truth. The forms 
 which are there discovered might well be 
 called 
 
 Abominable, inutterable, and worse 
 
 Than fables yet have feign'd, or fear conceiv'd, 
 
 Gorgons and Hydras/aud Cliimasras dire. 
 
 Such verily they would be, if they were in 
 magnitude equal to the common animals by 
 which we are surrounded. But Nature has 
 left all these seemingly misformed creatures 
 in the lowest stage of existence, the circle 
 of inchoation ; neither are any of the hide- 
 ous forms of insects repeated in the higher 
 grades of animal life; the sea indeed contains 
 creatures marvellously uncouth and ugly, 
 beaucoup plus de monstres, sans comparaison, 
 que la terre, and the Sieur de Brocourt, who 
 was as curious in collecting the opinions of 
 men as our philosopher, though no man could 
 
 * The reader may not be displeased to read the fol- 
 lowing beautiful passage from Jeremy Taylor. 
 
 " If God is glorified in the sun and moon, in the rare 
 fabric of the honeycombs, in the discipline of bees, in the 
 economy of pismires, in the little houses of birds, in the 
 curiosity of an eye, God being pleased to delight in those 
 little images and reflexes of himself from those pretty 
 mirrors, which, like n crevice in the wall, through a nar- 
 row perspective, transmit the species of a vast excellency : 
 much rather shall God be pleased to behold himself in the 
 glasses of our obedience, in the emissions of our will and 
 understanding; these being rational and apt instruments 
 to express him, far better than the natural, as being near 
 communications of himself." Invalidity qf a late or 
 Death-bed Repentance, vol. v. p. 464.
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 
 577 
 
 make more dissimilar uses of their know- 
 ledge, explains it d cause de la facilite de la 
 generation qui est en elle, dont se procreent si 
 diverses figures, d raisonde la grande chaleur 
 qui se trouve en la mer, I'humeury estantgras, 
 et I' aliment abondant; toute generation sefai- 
 sant par chaleur et humidite, qui produisent 
 toutes choses. With such reasoning our Doc- 
 tor was little satisfied ; it was enough to 
 know that as the sea produces monsters, so 
 the sea covers them, and that fish are evi- 
 dently lower in the scale of being than the 
 creatures of earth and air. It is the system 
 of Nature then that whatever is unseemly 
 should be left in the earliest and lowest 
 stages ; that life as it ascends should cast off 
 all deformity, as the butterfly leaves its 
 exuviae when its perfect form is developed ; 
 and finally, that whatever is imperfect should 
 be thrown off, and nothing survive in im- 
 mortality but what is beautiful as well as 
 good. 
 
 He was not acquainted with the specula- 
 tion, or conception (as the Philotheistic phi- 
 losopher himself called it) of Giordano Bruno, 
 that deformium animalium forma, formosce 
 sunt in ctxlo. Nor would he have assented 
 to some of the other opinions which that 
 pious and high-minded victim of papal in- 
 tolerance connected with it. That metallo- 
 rum in se non luccntium formce, lucent in 
 planetis suis, he might have supposed, if he 
 had believed in the relationship between 
 metals and planets. And if Bruno's remark 
 applied to the Planets only, as so many other 
 worlds, and did not regard the future state 
 of the creatures of this our globe, the Doc- 
 tor might then have agreed to his assertion 
 that non enim homo, nee animalia, nee mctalla 
 ut hie sunt, illic existunt. But the Philotheist 
 of Nola, in the remaining part of this his 
 twelfth Conceptus Idearum soared above the 
 Doctor's pitch : Quod nempe hie discurrit, 
 he says, illic actu viget, discursione. superiori. 
 Virtutes enim qua versus materiam explican- 
 tur : versus actum primum uniuntur, et com- 
 plicantnr. Unde patet quod dicunt Platonici, 
 ideam quamlibet rerwn etiam non viventium, 
 vitam esse et intelli gentium quandam. Item et 
 in Prirnd Mente unam csse rerun omnium 
 
 ideam. Illuminando igitur, vivifaando, et 
 uniendo est quod te superioribus ugentibus con- 
 formans, in conceptionem et retemionem spe- 
 cierum ejferaris. Here the Philosopher of 
 Doncaster would have found himself in the 
 dark, but whether because " blinded by 
 excess of light," or because the subject is 
 within the confines of uttermost darkness, is 
 not for me his biographer to determine. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXIV. 
 
 FURTHER DIFFICULTIES. QUESTION CONCERN- 
 ING INFERIOR APPARITIONS. BLAKE THE 
 PAINTER, AND THE GHOST OF A FLEA. 
 
 In amplissima causa, quasimagno mari,pluribus ventit 
 tumus vecti. PLINY. 
 
 THERE was another argument against the 
 immortality of brutes, to which, it may be, 
 he allowed the more weight, because it was 
 of his own excogitating. Often as he had 
 heard of apparitions in animal forms, all 
 such tales were of some spirit or hobgoblin 
 which had assumed that appearance ; as, for 
 instance, that simulacrum admodum monstru- 
 osum, that portentous figure in which Pope 
 Gregory the Ninth after his death was met 
 roaming about the woods by a holy hermit : 
 it was in the form of a wild beast with the 
 head of an ass, the body of a bear, and the 
 tail of a cat. Well might the good hermit 
 fortify himself with making the sign of the 
 cross when he beheld this monster : he ap- 
 proved himself a courageous man by speak- 
 ing to the apparition, which certainly was 
 not " in such a questionable shape" as to 
 invite discourse : and we are beholden to 
 him for having transmitted to posterity the 
 bestial Pope's confession, that because he 
 had lived an unreasonable and lawless life, 
 it was the will of God and of St. Peter whose 
 chair he had defiled by all kinds of abomina- 
 tions, that he should thus wander about in 
 a form of ferine monstrosity. 
 
 He had read of such apparitions, and been 
 sufficiently afraid of meeting a barguest* in 
 
 * A northern word, used in Cumberland and Yorkshire. 
 Brocket and Grose neither of them seem aware that this
 
 578 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 his boyish days ; but in no instance had he 
 ever heard of the ghost of an animal. Yet 
 if the immaterial part of such creatures sur- 
 vived in a separate state of consciousness, 
 why should not their spirits sometimes have 
 been seen as well as those of our departed 
 fellow creatures? No cock or hen ghost 
 ever haunted its own barn door : no child 
 was ever alarmed by the spirit of its pet 
 lamb ; no dog or cat ever came like a shadow 
 to visit the hearth on which it rested when 
 living. It is laid down as a certain truth 
 deduced from the surest principles of de- 
 monology by the Jesuit Thyrseus, who had 
 profoundly studied that science, that when- 
 ever the apparition of a brute beast or mon- 
 ster was seen, it was a Devil in that shape. 
 Quotiescumque sub brutorum animantium for- 
 ma conspiciuntur spirUus, quotiescumquc mon- 
 stra exhibentur dubium non est, autoprosopos 
 adesse Dcemoniorum spiritus. For such 
 forms were not suitable for human spirits, 
 but for evil Demons they were in many 
 respects peculiarly so : and such apparitions 
 were frequent. 
 
 Thus the Jesuit reasoned, the possibility 
 that the spirit of a brute might appear 
 never occurring to him, because he would 
 have deemed it heretical to allow that there 
 was anything in the brute creation partak- 
 ing of immortality. No such objection oc- 
 curred to the Doctor in his reasonings upon 
 this point. His was a more comprehensive 
 creed ; the doubt which he felt was not 
 concerning the spirit of brute animals, but 
 whether it ever existed in a separate state 
 after death, which the Ghost of one, were 
 there but one such appearance well attested, 
 would sufficiently prove. 
 
 He admitted, indeed, that for every au- 
 thenticated case of an apparition, a peculiar 
 cause was to be assigned, or presumed ; but 
 that for the apparition of an inferior animal, 
 there could in general be no such cause. 
 Yet cases are imaginable wherein there 
 
 spirit or dzemon had the form of the beast. Their deri- 
 vations are severally " Berg, a hill, and geest, ghost ; " 
 " Bar, a gate or style, and gheist." 
 
 The locality of the spirit will suggest a reference to the 
 Icelandic Bcrserkr. In that, language Bera and Bersi 
 both signify a bear. 
 
 might be such peculiar cause, and some final 
 purpose only to be brought about by such 
 preternatural means. The strong affection 
 which leads a dog to die upon his master's 
 grave, might bring back the spirit of a dog 
 to watch for the safety of a living master. 
 That no animal ghosts should have been 
 seen afforded, therefore, in this judgment no 
 weak presumption against their existence. 
 
 O Dove, " my guide, philosopher, and 
 friend ! " that thou hadst lived to see what I 
 have seen, the portrait of the Ghost of a 
 Flea, engraved by Varley, from the original 
 by Blake ! The engraver was present when 
 the likeness was taken, and relates the cir- 
 cumstances thus in his Treatise on Zodiacal 
 Physiognomy. 
 
 " This spirit visited his imagination in 
 such a figure as he never anticipated in an 
 insect. As I was anxious to make the most, 
 correct investigation in my power of the 
 truth of these visions, on hearing of this 
 spiritual apparition of a Flea, I asked him 
 if he could draw for me the resemblance of 
 what he saw. He instantly said, 'I see 
 him now before me.' I therefore gave him 
 paper and a pencil, with which he drew the 
 portrait of which a fac-simile is given in 
 this number. I felt convinced by his mode 
 of proceeding, that he had a real image 
 before him ; for he left off, and began on 
 another part of the paper to make a separate 
 drawing of the mouth of the Flea, which the 
 spirit having opened, he was prevented from 
 proceeding with the first sketch till he had 
 closed it. During the time occupied in 
 compleating the drawing, the Flea told him 
 that all fleas were inhabited by the souls of 
 such men as were by nature blood-thirsty 
 to excess, and were therefore providentially 
 confined to the size and form of insects ; 
 otherwise, were he himself, for instance, the 
 size of a horse, he would depopulate a great 
 portion of the country. He added that if 
 in attempting to leap from one island to 
 another he should fall into the sea, he could 
 swim, and should not be lost." 
 
 The Ghost of the Flea spoke truly when 
 he said what a formidable beast he should 
 be, if with such power of leg and of pro-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 579 
 
 boscis, and such an appetite for blood, he 
 were as large as a horse. And if all things 
 came by chance, it would necessarily follow 
 from the laws of chance that such monsters 
 there would be : but because all things are 
 wisely and mercifully ordered, it is, that 
 these varieties of form and power which 
 would be hideous, and beyond measure 
 destructive upon a larger scale, are left in 
 the lower stages of being ; the existence of 
 such deformity and such means of destruc- 
 tion there, and their non-existence as the 
 scale of life ascends, alike tending to prove 
 the wisdom and the benevolence of the 
 Almighty Creator. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXV. 
 
 FACTS AND FANCIES CONNECTING THE DOC- 
 TOR'S THEORY WITH THE VEGETABLE 
 WORLD. 
 
 We will not be too peremptory herein : and build 
 standing structures of bold assertions on so uncertain a 
 foundation ; rather with the Rechabites we will live in 
 tents of conjecture, which on better reason we may easily 
 alter and remove. FULLER. 
 
 IT may have been observed by the attentive 
 reader (and all my readers will be atten- 
 tive, except those who are in love,) that 
 although the Doctor traced many of his 
 acquaintance to their prior allotments in 
 the vegetable creation, he did not discover 
 such symptoms in any of them as led 
 him to infer that the object of his specula- 
 tions had existed in the form of a tree ; 
 crabbed tempers, sour plums, cherry-cheeks, 
 and hearts of oak being nothing more than 
 metaphorical expressions of similitude. But 
 it would be a rash and untenable deduction 
 were we to conclude from the apparent 
 omission that the arboreal world was ex- 
 cluded from his system. On the contrary, 
 the analogies between animal and vegetable 
 life led him to believe that the Archeus of 
 the human frame received no unimportant 
 part of his preparatory education in the 
 woods. 
 
 Steele in a playful allegory has observed 
 " that there is a sort of vegetable principle 
 
 in the mind of every man when he comes 
 into the world. In infants, the seeds lie 
 buried and undiscovered, till after a while 
 they sprout forth in a kind of rational 
 leaves, which are words ; and in due season 
 the flowers begin to appear in variety of 
 beautiful colours, and all the gay pictures of 
 youthful fancy and imagination ; at last the 
 fruit knits and is formed, which is green 
 perhaps at" first, sour and unpleasant to the 
 taste, and not fit to be gathered ; till, ripened 
 by due care and application, it discovers 
 itself in all the noble productions of phi- 
 losophy, mathematics, close reasoning, and 
 handsome argumentation. I reflected fur- 
 ther on the intellectual leaves before men- 
 tioned, and found almost as great a variety 
 among them as in the vegetable world." In 
 this passage, though written only as a sport 
 of fancy, there was more, our speculator 
 thought, than was dreamed of in Steele's 
 philosophy. 
 
 Empedocles, if the fragment which is 
 ascribed to him be genuine, pretended to 
 remember that he had pre-existed not only 
 in the forms of maiden and youth, fowl and 
 fish, but of a shrub also ; 
 
 *HS) 
 
 But upon such authority the Doctor placed as 
 little reliance as upon the pretended recollec- 
 tions of Pythagoras, whether really asserted 
 by that philosopher or falsely imputed to him 
 by fablers in prose or verse. When man shall 
 have effected his passage from the mortal and 
 terrestrial state into the sphere where there 
 is nothing that is impure, nothing that is 
 evil, nothing that is perishable, then in- 
 deed it is a probable supposition that he 
 may look back into the lowest deep from 
 whence he hath ascended, recal to mind his 
 progress step by step, through every stage of 
 the ascent, and understand the process by 
 which it had been appointed for him, (ap- 
 plying to Plato's words a different meaning 
 from that in which they were intended,) 
 IK iroXXuJi/ eva ysyovora tvcaifiova tataQat, 
 to become of many creatures, one happy 
 one. In that sphere such a retrospect would 
 enlarge the knowledge, and consequently the 
 
 p p 3
 
 580 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 happiness also, of the soul which has there 
 attained the perfection of its nature the 
 end for which it was created and redeemed. 
 But any such consciousness of pre-existence 
 would in this stage of our mortal being be so 
 incompatible with the condition of huma- 
 nity, that the opinion itself can be held only 
 as a speculation, of which no certainty can 
 ever have been made known to man, because 
 that alone has been revealed, the knowledge 
 of which is necessary : the philosophers 
 therefore who pretended to it, if they were 
 sincere in the pretension (which may be 
 doubted) are entitled to no more credit, than 
 the poor hypochondriac who fancies himself 
 a bottle or a tea-pot. 
 
 Thus our philosopher reasoned, who either 
 in earnest or in jest, or in serious sportive- 
 ness, irai%wv Kai airovFa^uv ufia, was careful 
 never to lean more upon an argument than 
 it would bear. Sometimes he pressed the lame 
 and halt into his service, but it was with a 
 clear perception of their defects, and he placed 
 them always in positions where they were 
 efficient for the service required for them, 
 and where more valid ones would not have 
 been more available. He formed, therefore, 
 no system of dendranthropology, nor at- 
 tempted any classification in it ; there were 
 not facts enough whereon to found one. Yet 
 in more than one circumstance which obser- 
 vant writers have recorded, something he 
 thought might be discerned which bore upon 
 this part of the theory, some traces of 
 
 those first affections, 
 Those shadowy recollections, 
 
 on which Wordsworth (in whose mystic 
 strains he would have delighted) dwells. 
 Thus he inferred that the soul of Xerxes 
 must once have animated a plane tree, and 
 retained a vivid feeling connected with his 
 arboreal existence, when he read in Evelyn 
 how that great king " stopped his prodigious 
 army of seventeen hundred thousand soldiers 
 to admire the pulchritude and procerity of 
 one of those goodly trees ; and became so 
 fond of it, that spoiling both himself, his 
 concubines, and great persons of all their 
 jewels, he covered it with gold, gems, neck- 
 laces, scarfs and bracelets, and infinite riches; 
 
 in sum, was so enamoured of it, that for 
 some days, neither the concernment of his 
 grand expedition, nor interest of honour, 
 nor the necessary motion of his portentous 
 army, could persuade him from it. He stiled 
 it his mistress, his minion, his goddess ; and 
 when he was forced to part from it, he 
 caused the figure of it to be stamped on a 
 medal of gold, which he continually wore 
 about him." 
 
 " That prudent Consul Passianus Crispns" 
 must have been influenced by a like feeling, 
 when he " fell in love with a prodigious 
 beech of a wonderful age and stature, used 
 to sleep under it, and would sometimes re- 
 fresh it with pouring wine at the root." Cer- 
 tainly, as Evelyn has observed, " a goodly 
 tree was a powerful attractive" to this per- 
 son. The practice of regaling trees with 
 such libations was not uncommon among the 
 wealthy Romans ; they seem to have sup- 
 posed that because wine gladdened their own 
 hearts, it must in like manner comfort the 
 root of a tree : and Pliny assures us that it 
 did so, compertum id maxime prodexse radi- 
 cibtis, he says, docuimusque etiam arbores vina 
 potare. If this were so, the Doctor reasoned 
 that there would be a peculiar fitness in fer- 
 tilising the vine with its own generous juice, 
 which it might be expected to return with 
 increase in richer and more abundant clus- 
 ters : forgetting, ignoring, or disregarding 
 this opinion which John Lily has recorded 
 that the vine watered (as he calls it) with 
 wine is soon withered. He was not wealthy 
 enough to afford such an experiment upon 
 that which clothed the garden-front of his 
 house, for this is not a land flowing with 
 wine and oil ; but he indulged a favourite 
 apple-tree (it was a Ribstone pippin) with 
 cider ; and when no sensible improvement in 
 the produce could be perceived, he imputed 
 the disappointment rather to the parsimo- 
 nious allowance of that congenial liquor, 
 than to any error in the theory. 
 
 But this has led me astray, and I must 
 return to Xerxes the Great King. The pre- 
 dilection or passion which he discovered for 
 the plane, the sage of Doncaster explained 
 by deriving it from a dim reminiscence of
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 581 
 
 his former existence in a tree of the same 
 kind ; or which was not less likely in the 
 wanton ivy which had clasped one, or in the 
 wild vine which had festooned its branches 
 with greener leaves, or even in the agaric 
 which had grown out of its decaying sub- 
 stance. And he would have quoted Words- 
 worth if the Sage of Rydal had not been of 
 a later generation : 
 
 Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting ; 
 The soul that rises with us, our life's star, 
 Hath had elsewhere its setting, 
 And cometh from afar. 
 
 Other examples of men who have doated 
 upon particular trees he accounted for by 
 the same philosophy. But in the case of the 
 Consul Crispus he was more inclined to hold 
 the first supposition, to wit, that he had 
 been a beech himself, and that the tree which 
 he loved so dearly had sprung from his own 
 mast, so that the feeling with which he re- 
 garded it was a parental one. For that man 
 should thus unconsciously afford proof of his 
 relationship to tree, was rendered more pro- 
 bable by a singular, though peradventure 
 single fact, in which a tree so entirely re- 
 cognised its affinity with man, that a slip 
 accidentally grafted on the human subject, 
 took root in the body, grew there, flourished, 
 blossomed and produced fruit after its kind. 
 " A shepherd of Tarragon had fallen into a 
 sloe tree, and a sharp point thereof having 
 run into his breast, in two years time it took 
 such root, that, after many branches had 
 been cut off, there sprang up some at last 
 which bare both flowers and fruit." 
 " Peiresc," as Gassendi the writer of his .life 
 assures us, " would never be quiet till Car- 
 dinal Barberino procured the Archbishop of 
 that place to testify the truth of the story ; 
 and Putean the knight received not only 
 letters testifying the same, but also certain 
 branches thereof, which he sent unto him." 
 
 CHAPTER CCXVI. 
 
 A SPANISH AUTHORESS. HOW THE DOCTOR 
 OBTAINED HER WORKS FROM MADRID. 
 THE PLEASURE AND ADVANTAGES WHICH 
 THE AUTHOR DERIVES FROM HIS LAND- 
 MARKS IN THE BOOKS WHICH HE HAD 
 PERUSED. 
 
 ALEX. Qiteles D. Diego aqttcl Arbol, 
 
 qiie tiene. la copa en lierra 
 
 y las raizes arriba ? 
 DIEG. El hombre. EL LETRADO DEL CIELO. 
 
 MAN is a Tree that hath no top in cares, 
 No root in comforts.* 
 
 This is one of the many poetical passages in 
 which the sound is better than the sense ; 
 yet it is not without its beauty. The same 
 similitude has been presented by Henry More 
 in lines which please the ear less, but satisfy 
 the understanding. 
 
 The lower m?.n is nought but a fair plant 
 Whose grosser matter is from tlie base ground. 
 
 " A plant," says Jones of Nayland, " is a 
 system of life, but insensitive and fixed to a 
 certain spot. An animal hath voluntary 
 motion, sense, or perception, and is capable 
 of pain and pleasure. Yet in the construc- 
 tion of each there are some general prin- 
 ciples which very obviously connect them. 
 It is literally as well as metaphorically true, 
 that trees have limbs, and an animal body 
 branches. A vascular system is also common 
 to both, in the channels of which life is 
 maintained and circulated. When the 
 trachea, with its branches in the lungs, or 
 the veins and arteries, or the nerves, are 
 separately represented, we have the figure 
 of a tree. The leaves of trees have a 
 fibrous and fleshy part ; their bark is a 
 covering which answers to the skin in 
 animals. An active vapour pervades them 
 both, and perspires from both, which is 
 necessary for the preservation of health and 
 vigour. The vis vita, or involuntary, me- 
 chanical force of animal life, is kept up by 
 the same elements which act upon plants for 
 their growth and support." f 
 
 * CHAPMAN. 
 f The reader of Berkeley will naturally turn to the
 
 582 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 " Plants," says Novalis, " are Children of 
 the Earth ; we are Children of the ^Ether. 
 Our lungs are properly our root ; we live 
 when we breathe ; we begin our life with 
 breathing." Plato also compared man to a 
 Tree, but his was a physical similitude, he 
 likened the human vegetable to a tree in- 
 verted, with the root above and the branches 
 below. Antonio Perez allegorised the simi- 
 litude in one of his epistles to Essex, thus, 
 Unde credis hominem inversam arborem ap- 
 pellari ? Inversam nostris oculis humanis ct 
 terrenis; rectam verb vere, viridemque, si 
 radicem defixam habuerit in ,tuo naturali loco, 
 ccelo, unde orta. And Rabelais pursues the 
 resemblance farther, saying that trees differ 
 from beasts in this, Quelles ont la teste, c'est 
 le tronc, en bas ; Ics cheveulx, ce sont les 
 ratines, en terre ; et les pieds, ce sont les 
 rameaulx, contremont ; comme si un homme 
 faisoit le chesne fourchu. 
 
 The thought that man is like a tree arose 
 in the Doctor's mind more naturally when 
 he first saw the representation of the veins 
 and arteries in the old translation of Am- 
 brose Fare's works. And when in course of 
 time he became a curious inquirer into the 
 history of her art, he was less disposed to 
 smile at any of the fancies into which Dona 
 Oliva Sabuco Barrera had been led by this 
 resemblance, than to admire the novelty and 
 ingenuity of the theory which she deduced 
 from it. 
 
 Bless ye the memory of this Spanish 
 Lady, all ye who bear, or aspire to, the 
 honour of the bloody hand as Knights of 
 Esculapius ! For from her, according to 
 Father Feyjoo, the English first, and after- 
 wards the physicians of other countries, 
 learned the theory of nervous diseases ; 
 never, therefore, did any other individual 
 contribute so largely to the gratification of 
 fee-feeling fingers ! 
 
 Feyjoo has properly enumerated her 
 among the women who have done honour to 
 their country : and later Spaniards have 
 
 Siris of that author called by Southey in his life of 
 Wesley "one of the best, wisest, and greatest men whom 
 Ireland, with all its feitility of genius, has produced." 
 Vol. ii. 2GO., 2nd Edit. 
 
 called her the immortal glory not of Spain 
 alone, but of all Europe. She was born, 
 and dwelt in the city of Alcaraz, and 
 flourished in the reign of Philip II. to whom 
 she dedicated in 1587 her "New Philosophy 
 of the Nature of Man," * appealing to the 
 ancient law of chivalry, whereby great 
 Lords and high-born Knights were bound 
 always to favour women in their adventures. 
 In placing under the eagle wings of his 
 Catholic Majesty this child which she had 
 engendered, she told the King that he was 
 then receiving from a woman greater service 
 than any that men had rendered him, with 
 whatever zeal and success they had exerted 
 themselves to serve him. The work which 
 she laid before him would better the world, 
 she said, in many things, and if he could not 
 attend to it, those who came after him per- 
 adventure would. For though there were 
 already all too-many books in the world, yet 
 this one was wanting. 
 
 The brief and imperfect notices of this 
 Lady's system, which the Doctor had met 
 with in the course of his reading, made him 
 very desirous of procuring her works : this 
 it would not be easy to do in England at 
 this time, and then it was impossible. He 
 obtained them, however, through the kindness 
 of Mason's friend, Mr. Burgh, whom he 
 used to meet at Mr. Copley's at Netterhall, 
 and who in great or in little things was 
 always ready to render any good office in his 
 power to any person. Burgh procured the 
 book through the Rev. Edward Clarke, 
 (father of Dr. Clarke the traveller,) then 
 Chaplain to the British Embassador in 
 Spain. The volume came with the des- 
 patches from Madrid, it was forwarded to 
 Mr. Burgh in an official frank, and the 
 Doctor marked with a white stone the day 
 on which the York carrier delivered it at 
 his house. That precious copy is now in 
 my possession f ; my friend has noted in it, 
 
 * It should seem by her name, as suffixed to the Carta 
 Dedicatorie, that she was of French or Breton extraction, 
 for the signs herself, Oliva de Nantes, Sabuco Barera. 
 K. S. 
 
 t This curious book I unluckily missed at the Sale of 
 Southey's Library. I was absent at the time, and it 
 passed into private hands. It sold for thirteen shillings
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 583 
 
 as was his custom, every passage that seemed 
 worthy of observation, with the initial of his 
 own name a small capital, neatly written 
 in red ink. Such of his books as I have 
 been able to collect are full of these marks, 
 showing how carefully he had read them. 
 These notations have been of much use to 
 me in my perusal, leading me to pause 
 where he had paused, to observe what he 
 had noted, and to consider what had to him 
 seemed worthy of consideration. And 
 though I must, of necessity more frequently 
 have failed to connect the passages so noted 
 with my previous knowledge as he had done, 
 and for that reason to see their bearings in 
 the same point of view, yet undoubtedly I 
 have often thus been guided into the same 
 track of thought which he had pursued 
 before me. Long will it be before some of 
 these volumes meet with a third reader ; 
 never with one in whom these vestiges of 
 their former owner can awaken a feeling 
 like that which they never fail to excite in 
 me ! 
 
 But the red letters in this volume have 
 led me from its contents ; and before I pro- 
 ceed to enter upon them in another chapter, 
 I will conclude this, recurring to the simili- 
 tude at its commencement, with an extract 
 from one of Yorick's Sermons. " It is very 
 remarkable," he says, " that the Apostle St. 
 Paul calls a bad man a wild olive tree, not 
 barely a branch," (as in the opposite case 
 where our Saviour told his disciples that 
 He was the vine, and that they were only 
 branches,) " but a Tree, which having a 
 root of its own supports itself, and stands 
 in its own strength, and brings forth its own 
 fruit. And so does every bad man in 
 respect of the wild and sour fruit of a vicious 
 and corrupt heart. According to the re- 
 semblance, if the Apostle intended it, he is 
 a Tree, has a root of his own, and fruit- 
 fulness such as it is, with a power to bring 
 it forth without help. But in respect of 
 religion and the moral improvements of 
 
 only. See Catalogue, No. 3453. The title is as follows : 
 Sabuco (Olivia) Xueva Filosofia de la Xaturaleza flel 
 hombre, no canocida ni alcanyada de las Grandes Filosofos 
 Antiguos. FIRST EDITION. Madrid, 1587. 
 
 virtue and goodness, the Apostle calls us, 
 and reason tells us, we are no more than a 
 branch, and all our fruitfulness, and all our 
 support, depend so much upon the influence 
 and communications of God, that without 
 Him we can do nothing, as our Saviour 
 declares." 
 
 CHAPTER CCXVII. 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF D. OI.IVA SABUCo's ME- 
 DICAL THEORIES AM) PRACTICE. 
 
 Yo volvere 
 
 A nueva diligencia y paso largo, 
 
 Que es breve el tiempo, ** granrie la memoria 
 
 Que para darla al mttndo estd a mi cargo. 
 
 BAI.BVEKA. 
 
 CARFW the poet speaking metaphorically of 
 his mistress calls her foot, 
 
 the precious root 
 On which the goodly cedar grows. 
 
 Dona Oliva on the contrary thought that 
 the human body might be called a tree 
 reversed, the brain being the root, and the 
 other the bark. She did not know what 
 great authority there is for thinking that 
 trees stand upon their heads, 'for though 
 we use vulgarly but improperly to call the 
 uppermost of the branches the top of a tree, 
 we are corrected, the learned John Gregory 
 tells us, by Aristotle in his books De Animd*, 
 where we are taught to call the root the 
 head, and the top the feet. 
 
 The pia mater according to her theory 
 diffuses through this bark by the nerves 
 that substance, moisture, sap, or white chyle 
 which, when it flows in its proper course, 
 preserves the human vegetable in a state of 
 well being, but when its course is reverted 
 it becomes the cause of diseases. This 
 nervous fluid, the brain derived principally 
 from the air, which she held to be water in 
 a state of rarefaction, air being the chyle 
 of the upper world, water of the inferior, 
 and the Moon with air and water, as with 
 milk, feeding like a nursing mother, all 
 
 * Quaere ? Lib. ii. c. ii. 6. a.1 It (K.cu rS 
 taXtyn . T. f.
 
 584 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 sublunary creatures, and imparting moisture 
 for their increase, as the Sun imparteth 
 heat and life. Clouds are the milk of the 
 Moon, from which, if she may so express 
 herself, she says it rains air and wind as well 
 as water, wind beingair, or rarefied water rare- 
 fied still farther. The mutation or rarefac- 
 tion of water into air takes place by day, the 
 remutation or condensation of air into water 
 by night : this is shown by the dew, and by 
 this the ebbing and flowing of the sea are 
 caused. 
 
 In the brain, as in the root of the animal 
 tree, all diseases, according to Dona Oliva, 
 had their origin. From this theory she 
 deduced a mode of practice, which if it did 
 not facilitate the patient's recovery, was at 
 least not likely to retard it; and tended in 
 no way to counteract, or interfere with the 
 restorative efforts of nature. And although 
 fanciful in its foundation, it was always so 
 humane, and generally so reasonable, as in a 
 great degree to justify the confidence with 
 which she advanced it. She requested that 
 a board of learned men might be appointed, 
 before whom she might defend her system 
 of philosophy and of therapeutics, and that 
 her practice might be tried for one year, 
 that of Hippocrates and Galen having been 
 tried for two thousand, with what effect was 
 daily and miserably seen, when of a thousand 
 persons there were scarcely three who 
 reached the proper termination of life and 
 died by natural decay, the rest being cut off 
 by some violent disease. For, according to 
 her, the natural termination of life is pro- 
 duced by the exhaustion of the radical 
 moisture, which in the course of nature is 
 dried, or consumed, gradually and imper- 
 ceptibly ; deatli therefore, when that course 
 is not disturbed, being an easy passage to 
 eternity. This gradual desiccation it is 
 which gives to old age the perfection of 
 judgment that distinguishes it; and for the 
 same reason the children of old men are 
 more judicious than others, young men 
 being deficient in judgment by reason of 
 the excess of radical moisture, children still 
 more so. 
 
 She had never studied medicine, she said ; 
 
 but it was clear as the light of day that the 
 old system was erroneous, and must needs 
 be so, because its founders were ignorant of 
 the nature of man, upon which being rightly 
 understood the true system must, of neces- 
 sity, be founded. Hope is what supports 
 health and life ; fear, the worst enemy of 
 both. Among the best preservatives and 
 restoratives she recommended therefore 
 cheerfulness, sweet odours, music,' the 
 country, the sound of woods and waters, 
 agreeable conversation, and pleasant pas- 
 times. Music, of all external things, she 
 held to be that which tends most to comfort, 
 rejoice and strengthen the brain, being as it 
 were a spiritual pleasure in which the mind 
 sympathises ; and the first of all remedies, 
 in this, her true system of medicine, was to 
 bring the mind and body into unison, re- 
 moving thus that discord which is occasioned 
 when they are ill at ease ; this was to be 
 done by administering cheerfulness, content, 
 and hope to the mind, and in such words 
 and actions as produced these, the best 
 medicine was contained. Next to this it 
 imported to comfort the stomach, and to 
 cherish the root of man, that is to say the 
 brain, with its proper corroborants, espe- 
 cially with sweet odours and with music. 
 For music was so good a remedy for me- 
 lancholy, so great an alleviator of pain, such 
 a soother of uneasy emotions, and of passion, 
 that she marvelled wherefore so excellent a 
 medicine should not be more in use, seeing 
 that undoubtedly many grievous diseases, as 
 for example epilepsy, might be disarmed 
 and cured by it ; and it would operate with 
 the more effect if accompanied with hopeful 
 words and with grateful odours, for Dona 
 Oliva thought with Solomon that " pleasant 
 words are as an honeycomb, sweet to the 
 soul, and health to the bones." 
 
 Consequently unpleasant sounds and ill 
 smells were, according to her philosophy, 
 injurious. The latter she confounded with 
 noxious air, which was an error to be 
 expected in those days, when nothing con- 
 cerning the composition of the atmosphere 
 had been discovered. Thus she thought it 
 was by their ill odour that limekilns and
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 585 
 
 charcoal-fires occasioned death ; and that 
 owing to the same cause horses were fre- 
 quently killed when the filth of a stable was 
 removed, and men who were employed in 
 cleaning vaults. Upon the same principle, 
 in recommending perfumes as alexipharmic, 
 she fell in with the usual practice. The 
 plague, according to her, might be received 
 not by the breath alone, but the eyes also, 
 for through the sight there was ready access 
 to the brain ; it was prudent therefore to 
 close the nostrils when there might be reason 
 to apprehend that the air was tainted ; and 
 when conversing with an infected person, 
 not to talk face to face, but to avert the 
 countenance. In changing the air, with the 
 hope of escaping an endemic disease, the 
 place to go to should be that from whence 
 the pestilence had come, rather than one 
 whither it might be going. 
 
 Ill sounds were noxious in like manner, 
 though not in like degree, because no 
 discord can be so grating as to prove fatal ; 
 but any sound which is at once loud and 
 discordant she held to be unwholesome, and 
 that to hear any one sing badly, read ill, or 
 talk importunately like a fool was sufficient 
 to cause a defluxion from the brain ; if this 
 latter opinion were well founded, no Speaker 
 of the House of Commons could hold his 
 office for a single Session without being 
 talked to death. With these she classed the 
 sound of a hiccup, the whetting of a saw, 
 and the cry of bitter lamentation. 
 
 Doiia Oliva, it may be presumed, was en- 
 dued with a sensitive ear and a quick per- 
 ception of odours, as well as with a cheerful 
 temper, and an active mind. Her whole 
 course of practice was intended to cheer and 
 comfort the patient, if that was possible. She 
 allowed the free use of water, and fresh air, 
 and recommended that the apartments of 
 the sick should be well ventilated. She pre- 
 scribed refreshing odours, among others that 
 of bread fresh from the oven, and that wine 
 should be placed near the pillow, in order 
 to induce sleep. She even thought that 
 cheerful apparel conduced to health, and that 
 the fashion of wearing black, which pre- 
 vailed in her time, was repugnant to reason. 
 
 Pursuing her theory that the brain was the 
 original seat of disease, she advised that the 
 excessive moisture which would otherwise 
 take a wrong course from thence should be 
 drawn off through the natural channels by 
 sneezing powders, or by pungent odours 
 which provoke a discharge from the eyes and 
 nostrils, by sudorifics also, exercise, and 
 whatever might cause a diversion to the 
 skin. When any part was wounded, or pain- 
 ful, or there was a tumour, she recommended 
 compression above the part affected, with a 
 woollen bandage, tightly bound, but not so 
 as to occasion pain. And to comfort the 
 root of the animal tree she prescribes scratch- 
 ing the head with the fingers, or combing it 
 with an ivory comb, a general and ad- 
 mirable remedy she calls this, against which 
 some former possessor of the book, who 
 seems to have been a practitioner upon the 
 old system, and has frequently entered his 
 protest against the medical heresies of the 
 authoress, has written in the margin " bad 
 advice." She recommended also cutting the 
 hair, and washing the head with white wine, 
 which as it were renovated the skin, and im- 
 proved the vegetation. 
 
 But Dona Oliva did not reject more ac- 
 tive remedies ; on the contrary she advised 
 all such as men had learned from animals, and 
 this included a powerful list, for she seems 
 to have believed all the fables with which 
 natural history in old times abounded, and 
 of which indeed it may almost be said to 
 have consisted. More reasonably she ob- 
 served that animals might teach us the utility 
 of exercise, seeing how the young lambs 
 sported in the field, and dogs played with 
 each other, and birds rejoiced in the air. 
 When the stomach required clearing she 
 prescribed a rough practice, that the patient 
 should drink copiously of weak wine and 
 water, and of tepid water with a few drops 
 of vinegar and an infusion of camomile 
 flowers ; and that he should eat also things 
 difficult of digestion, such as radishes, figs, 
 carrots, onions, anchovies, oil and vinegar, 
 with plenty of Indian pepper, and with some- 
 thing acid the better to cut the phlegm 
 which was to be got rid of; having thus
 
 586 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 stored the stomach well for the expenditure 
 which was to be required from it, the patient 
 was then to lay himself on a pillow across a 
 chair, and produce the desired effect either 
 by his fingers or by feathers dipped in oil. 
 After this rude operation, which was to re- 
 fresh the brain and elevate the pia mater, 
 the stomach was to be comforted. 
 
 To bathe the whole body with white wine 
 was another mode of invigorating the pia 
 mater ; for there it was that all maladies 
 originated, none from the liver ; the nature 
 of the liver, said she, is that it cannot err ; 
 es docta sin doctor. 
 
 The latter treatises in her book are in 
 Latin, but she not unfrequently passes, as if 
 unconsciously, into her own language, writ- 
 ing always livelily and forcibly, with a clear 
 perception of the fallacy of the established 
 system, and with a confidence, not so well 
 founded, that she had discovered the real 
 nature of man, and thereby laid the founda- 
 tion of a rational practice, conformable to it. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXVIII. 
 
 THE MUNDANE SYSTEM AS COMMONLY HELD 
 IN D. OLIVA's AGE. MODERN OBJECTIONS 
 TO A PLURALITY OF WORLDS BY THE EEV. 
 JAMES MILLER. 
 
 Uncerchio immaginatoci bisogna, 
 
 A vuler ben In spera contemplare ; 
 Cost chi intender gueita storia ngogna 
 
 Cvnvienii allro per altro immaginare ; 
 Percfie qui non si canta, efinge, e sogna ; 
 
 Veiiuto t il tempo daJUosofare. PULCI. 
 
 ONE of Doiia Oliva's treatises is upon the 
 Compostura del Mundo, which may best be 
 interpreted the Mundane System ; herein 
 she laid no claim to the merit of discovery, 
 only to that of briefly explaining what had 
 been treated of by many before her. The 
 mundane system she illustrates by compar- 
 ing it to a large ostrich's egg, with three 
 whites and eleven shells, our earth being the 
 yolk. The water, which according to this 
 theory surrounded the globe, she likened to 
 the first or innermost albumen ; the second 
 and more extensive was the air ; the third 
 
 and much the largest consisted of fire. The 
 eleven shells were so many leaves one in- 
 closing the other, circle within circle, like a 
 nest of boxes. The first of these was the 
 first heaven, wherein the Moon hath her ap- 
 pointed place, the second that of the planet 
 Mercury, the third that of Venus ; the 
 fourth was the circle of the Sun ; Mars, 
 Jupiter and Saturn moved in the fifth, sixth 
 and seventh ; the eighth was the starry sky ; 
 the ninth the chrystalline ; the tenth the 
 primum mobile, which imparted motion to 
 all ; and the eleventh was the immobile, or 
 empyreum, surrounding all, containing all, 
 and bounding all ; for beyond this there was 
 no created thing, either good or evil. 
 
 A living writer of no ordinary powers 
 agrees in this conclusion with the old philo- 
 sophers whom Doiia Oliva followed ; and in 
 declaring his opinion he treats the men of 
 science with as much contempt as they be- 
 stow upon their unscientific predecessors in 
 astronomy. 
 
 Reader, if thou art capable of receiving 
 pleasure from such speculations, (and if thou 
 art not, thou art little better than an Oran- 
 Otang,) send for a little book entitled the 
 " Progress of the Human Mind, its objects, 
 conditions and issue : with the relation 
 which the Progress of Religion bears to the 
 general growth of mind ; by the Rev. James 
 Miller." Send also for the " Sibyl's Leaves, 
 or the Fancies, Sentiments and Opinions of 
 Silvanus, miscellaneous, moral and religious," 
 by the same author, the former published in 
 1823, the latter in 1829. Very probably 
 you may never have heard of either : but if 
 you are a buyer of books, I say unto you, 
 buy them both. 
 
 "Infinity," says this very able and ori- 
 ginal thinker, " is the retirement in which 
 perfect love and wisdom only dwell with 
 God. 
 
 " In Infinity and Eternity the sceptic sees 
 an abyss in which all is lost : I see in them 
 the residence of Almighty Power, in which 
 my reason and nay wishes find equally a firm 
 support. Here holding by the pillars of 
 Heaven, I exist I stand fast. 
 
 " Surround our material system with a
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 587 
 
 void, and mind itself becoming blind and 
 impotent in attempting to travel through it, 
 will return to our little lights, like the dove 
 which found no rest for the sole of her foot. 
 But when I find Infinity filled with light, 
 and life, and love, I will come back to you 
 with my olive branch : follow me, or fare- 
 well ! you shall shut me up in your cabins 
 no more. 
 
 " In stretching our view through the wide 
 expanse which surrounds us, we perceive a 
 system of bodies receding behind one an- 
 other, till they are lost in immeasureable 
 distance. This region beyond, though to us 
 dark and unexplored, from the impossibility 
 of a limit, yet gives us its infinity as the 
 most unquestionable of all principles. But 
 though the actual extent to which this in- 
 finite region is occupied by the bodies of 
 which the universe is composed, is far be- 
 yond our measure and our view, and though 
 there be nothing without to compel us any- 
 where to stop in enlarging its bounds, Nature 
 herself gives us other principles not less 
 certain, which prove that she must have 
 limits, and that it is impossible her frame 
 can fill the abyss which surrounds her. Her 
 different parts have each their fixed place, 
 their stated distance. You may as well 
 measure infinity by mile-stones as fill it 
 with stars. To remove any one from an in- 
 finite distance from another, you must, in 
 fixing their place, set limits to the infinity 
 you assume. You can advance from unity 
 as far as you please, but there is no actual 
 number at an infinite distance from it. You 
 may, in the same manner, add world to world 
 as long as you please, only because no 
 number of them can fill infinity, or approach 
 nearer to fill it. We have the doctrine of 
 Nature's abhorrence of a vacuum ; it is from 
 a plenum like this she shrinks, as from a 
 region in which all her substance would be 
 dissipated into nothing. Her frame is com- 
 posed of parts which have each their certain 
 proportion and relation. It subsists by 
 mutual attractions and repulsions, lessening 
 and increasing with distance ; by a circula- 
 tion which, actually passing through every 
 part, rejects the idea of a space which it could 
 
 never pervade. Infinity cannot revolve; 
 the circulation of Nature cannot pervade in- 
 finity. The globe we inhabit, and all its 
 kindred planets, revolve in orbits which em- 
 brace a common power in the centre which 
 animates and regulates their motions, and 
 on the influence of which their internal 
 energies evidently depend. That we may 
 not be lost in looking for it in the boundless 
 regions without, our great physical power is 
 all within, in the bosom of our own circle ; 
 and the same facts which prove the great- 
 ness of this power to uphold, to penetrate, 
 to enliven at such a distance, shew in what 
 manner it might at last become weak, 
 become nothing. Whatever relations we 
 may have to bodies without, or whatever 
 they may have to one another, their in- 
 fluence is all directed to particular points, 
 to given distances. Material Nature has no 
 substance, can make no effort, capable of 
 pervading infinity. The light itself of all 
 her powers the most expansive, in diffusing 
 itself through her own frame, shews most of 
 all her incapacity to occupy the region be- 
 yond, in which (as the necessary result of its 
 own effort) it soon sinks, feeble and faint, 
 where all its motion is but as rest, in an ex- 
 tent to which the utmost possible magnitude 
 of Nature is but a point." 
 
 The reader will now be prepared for the 
 remarks of this free thinker upon the Plura- 
 lity of Worlds. Observe I call him free 
 thinker not in disparagement, but in honour ; 
 he belongs to that service in which alone is 
 perfect freedom. 
 
 " Perceiving," he says, " as it is easy to 
 do, the imperfection of our present system, 
 instead of contemplating the immense pro- 
 spect opened to our view in the progress of 
 man, in the powers and the means he 
 possesses, the philosopher sees through his 
 telescope worlds and scales of being to his 
 liking. By means of these, without the 
 least reference to the Bible, or the human 
 heart, Pope, the pretty talking parrot of 
 Bolingbroke, with the assistance of his pam- 
 pered goose, finds it easy to justify the ways 
 of God to man. From worlds he never saw, 
 he proves ours is as it should be.
 
 588 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 " To form the children of God for himself, 
 to raise them to a capacity to converse with 
 him, to enjoy all his love, this grand scenery 
 is not unnecessary, not extravagant. A 
 smaller exhibition would not have demon- 
 strated his wisdom and power. You would 
 make an orrery serve perhaps ! By a plura- 
 lity of Gods, error degraded the Supreme 
 Being in early ages ; by a plurality of worlds 
 it would now degrade his children, deprive 
 them of their inheritance. 
 
 " What are they doing in these planets ? 
 Peeping at us through telescopes ? We may 
 be their Venus or Jupiter. They are per- 
 haps praying to us, sending up clouds of in- 
 cense to regale our nostrils. Hear them, 
 far-seeing Herschel ! gauger of stars. I 
 will pray to One only, who is above them 
 all ; and if your worlds come between me and 
 Him, I will kick them out of my way. In 
 banishing your new ones, I put more into 
 the old than is worth them all put together. 
 
 " These expanding heavens, the residence 
 of so many luminous bodies of immeasurable 
 distance and magnitude, and which the phi- 
 losopher thinks must be a desert if devoted 
 to man, at present possessing but so small a 
 portion of his own globe, shall yet be too 
 little for him, the womb only in which the 
 infant was inclosed, incapable of containing 
 the mature birth. 
 
 " We shall yet explore all these celestial 
 bodies more perfectly than we have hitherto 
 done our own globe, analyse them better than 
 the substances we can shut up in our retorts, 
 count their number, tell their measure. 
 
 " As nature grows, mind grows. It grows 
 to God, and in union with him shall fill, 
 possess all. 
 
 " Our rank among worlds is indeed in- 
 significant if we are to receive it from the 
 magnitude of our globe compared with 
 others, compared with space. Put Herschel 
 with his telescope on Saturn, he would 
 scarcely think us worthy of the name of even 
 a German prince. We may well be the sport 
 of Jupiter, the little spot round which Mars 
 and Venus coquette with one another. 
 Little as it is, however, pepper-corn, clod 
 of clay as it is, with its solitary satellite, and 
 
 all its spots and vapours, I prefer it to them 
 all. I am glad I was born in it, I love its 
 men, and its women, and its laws. It's 
 people shall be my people ; it's God shall b? 
 my God. Here I am content to lodge and 
 here to be buried. What Abanns and Phar- 
 phars may flow in these planets I know not : 
 here is Jordan, here is the river of life. 
 From this world I shall take possession of 
 all these; while those, who in quest of strange 
 worlds have forsaken God, shall be desolate. 
 
 "This globe is large enough to contain 
 man ; man will yet grow large enough to fill 
 Heaven. 
 
 " Fear not, there is no empty space in the 
 universe, none in eternity : nothing lost. 
 God possesses all, and there is room for 
 nothing but the objects of his affections." 
 
 CHAPTER CCXIX. 
 
 THE ARGUMENT AGAINST CHRISTIANITY 
 DRAWN FROM A PLURALITY OF WORLDS 
 SHOWN TO BE FUTILE : REMARKS ON THE 
 OPPOSITE DISPOSITIONS BY WHICH MEN 
 ARE TEMPTED TO INFIDELITY. 
 
 ascolla 
 
 Siccome suomo di verace lingua ; 
 E porgimi Forecchio. 
 
 CHIABRERA. 
 
 THE extracts with which the preceding 
 Chapter concludes will have put thee in a 
 thoughtful mood, Reader, if thou art one of 
 those persons whose brains are occasionally 
 applied to the purpose of thinking upon such 
 subjects as are worthy of grave consideration. 
 Since then I have thee in this mood, let us 
 be serious together. Egregiously is he 
 mistaken who supposes that this book con- 
 sists of nothing more than 
 Fond Fancy's scum, and dregs of scattered thought.* 
 Everywhere I have set before thee what 
 Bishop Reynolds calls verba desiderii, 
 " pleasant, delightful, acceptable words, such 
 as are worthy of all entertainment, and may 
 minister (not a few of them) comfort and 
 refreshment to the hearers." I now come 
 
 SIR P. SIDNEY.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 589 
 
 to thee with verba rectitudinis " equal and 
 right words; not loose, fabulous, amorous, 
 impertinent, which should satisfy the itch 
 of ear, or tickle only a wanton fancy ; but 
 profitable and wholesome words, so to 
 please men as that it may be unto edification 
 and for their profit : words written to make 
 men sound and upright; to make their 
 paths direct and straight, without falseness 
 or hypocrisy." Yea they shall be verba 
 veritatis, " words of truth, which will not 
 deceive or misguide those that yield up 
 themselves to the direction of them : a truth 
 which is sanctifying and saving, and in these 
 respects most worthy of our attention and 
 belief." 
 
 Make up your mind then to be Tremayned 
 in this chapter. 
 
 The benevolent reader will willingly do 
 this, he I mean who is benevolent to himself 
 as well as towards me. The so-called phi- 
 losopher or man of liberal opinions, who 
 cannot be so inimical in thought, to me, as 
 they are indeed to themselves, will frown at 
 it; one such exclaims pshaw, or pish, ac- 
 cording as he may affect the forte manner, 
 or the fine, of interjecting his contemptuous 
 displeasure ; another already winces, feeling 
 himself by anticipation touched upon a sore 
 place. To such readers it were hopeless to 
 say favete, Numquid ceger laudat mcdicum 
 secantem ? But I shall say with the Roman 
 Philosopher of old, who is well entitled to 
 that then honourable designation, tacete, et 
 prcebete vos curationi : etiam si exclamaveritis, 
 non aliter aucliam, quam si ad tactum vitiorum 
 vestrorum ingemiscatis* 
 
 My own observation has led me to be- 
 lieve with Mr. Miller, that some persons are 
 brought by speculating upon a Plurality of 
 Worlds to reason themselves out of their 
 belief in Christianity : such Christianity in- 
 deed it is as has no root, because the soil on 
 which it has fallen is shallow, and though the 
 seed which has been sown there springs up, 
 it soon withers away. Thus the first system 
 of superstition, and the latest pretext for 
 unbelief, have both been derived from the 
 
 SENECA. 
 
 contemplation of the heavenly bodies. The 
 former was the far more pardonable error, 
 being one to which men, in the first ages, 
 among whom the patriarchal religion had 
 not been carefully preserved, were led by 
 natural piety. The latter is less imputable 
 to the prevalence of unnatural impiety, than 
 to that weakness of mind and want of 
 thought which renders men as easily the 
 dupe of the infidel propagandist in one age, 
 as of the juggling friar in another. These 
 objectors proceed upon the gratuitous as- 
 sumption that other worlds are inhabited by 
 beings of the same kind as ourselves, and 
 moreover in the same condition ; that is 
 having fallen, and being therefore in need 
 of a Redeemer. Ask of them upon what 
 grounds they assume this, and they can 
 make no reply. 
 
 Too many, alas ! there are who part with 
 their heavenly birth-right at a viler price 
 than Esau ! It is humiliating to see by what 
 poor sophistries they are deluded, by what 
 pitiable vanity they are led astray ! And it 
 is curious to note how the same evil effect is 
 produced by causes the most opposite. The 
 drunken pride of intellect makes one man 
 deny his Saviour and his God : another, 
 under the humiliating sense of mortal in- 
 significancy, feels as though he were " a 
 worm and no man," and therefore concludes 
 that men are beneath the notice, still more 
 beneath the care of the Almighty. " When 
 I consider thy Heavens, the work of thy 
 fingers, the Moon and the Stars, which thou 
 hast ordained ; what is man that thou art 
 mindful of him ? and the son of man that 
 thou visitest him ? " Of those who pursue 
 this feeling to a consequence as false as it is 
 unhappy, there is yet hope; for the same 
 arguments (and they are all-sufficient) by 
 which the existence of the Deity is proved, 
 prove also his infinite goodness ; and he who 
 believes in that goodness, if he but feelingly 
 believe, is not far from trusting in it, 
 
 fu if 
 
 Ai xtv TOY,; 
 
 ia, TT' irtff,riu{ 
 ey.t 
 
 It is a good remark of Mr. Riland's, in his 
 
 t ORPHEUS.
 
 590 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Estimate of the Religion of the Times, that 
 men quarrel with the Decalogue rather than 
 with the Creed. But the quarrel that begins 
 with one, generally extends to the other ; 
 we may indeed often perceive how mani- 
 festly men have made their doctrines con- 
 form to their inclinations : At wrpoao-fie nark 
 TO. eOij ffvfiflaivovaiv' Stg yeip tihtOapiVj ovrwg 
 d*iovfifv \sytff9ai.* They listen only to what 
 they like, as Aristotle has observed, and would 
 be instructed to walk on those ways only which 
 they choose for themselves. But if there 
 be many who thus make their creed conform 
 to their conduct, and are led by an immoral 
 life into irreligious opinions, there are not 
 a few whose error begins in the intellect, 
 and from thence proceeds to their practice 
 in their domestic and daily concerns. Thus 
 if unbelief begins not in the evil heart, it 
 settles there. But perhaps it is not so 
 difficult to deal with an infidel who is in 
 either of these predicaments, as with one 
 whose disposition is naturally good, whose 
 course of life is in no other respect blameless, 
 or meritorious, but who, owing to unhappy 
 circumstances, has either been allowed to 
 grow up carelessly in unbelief, or trained in it 
 systematically, or driven to seek for shelter in 
 it from the gross impostures of popery, or 
 the revolting tenets of Calvinism, the cant 
 of hypocrisy, or the crudities of cold So- 
 cinianism. Such persons supposing them- 
 selves whole conclude that they have no 
 need of a physician, and are thus in the 
 fearful condition of those righteous ones of 
 whom our Lord said that he came not to 
 call them to repentance ! The sinner, brave 
 it as he may, feels inwardly the want of a 
 Saviour, and this is much, though not enough 
 to say with the poet 
 
 Pars sanitatis velle sanarifuit; f 
 
 nor with the philosopher, Et hoc midtum est 
 velle servari: nor with the Father, 'O TO Trpurov 
 dove tat ro divripov dwfftt. For if this be re- 
 jected, then comes that " penal induration, 
 as the consequent of voluntary and con- 
 
 * Bp. Reynolds quotes this same passage in his Sermon 
 on " Brotherly Reconciliation," and applies it in the same 
 way. Works, vol. v. p. 158. 
 
 t SENECA IN HIPPOL. 
 
 tracted induration," which one of our own 
 great Christian philosophers pronounces to 
 be "the sorest judgement next to hell itself." 
 Nevertheless it is much to feel this self-con- 
 demnation and this want. But he who con- 
 fides in the rectitude of his intentions, and 
 in his good works, and in that confidence 
 rejects so great salvation, is in a more aweful 
 state, just as there is more hope of him who 
 suffers under an acute disease, than of a 
 patient stricken with the dead palsy. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXX. 
 
 DONA OLIVA'S PHILOSOPHY, AND VIEWS OF 
 POLITICAL REFORMATION. 
 
 A T on vi par adunquc che Kabbiamo ragfonato a bastanza 
 diqueslo? A bastanza parmi, rispuse il Signor Caspar; 
 par desidero to d'inUndere qualchc particolarita anchor. 
 
 CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 ACCORDING to Dona Oliva's philosophy, the 
 quantity of water is ten times greater than 
 that of earth, air in like manner exceeding 
 water in a tenfold degree, and fire in the 
 same proportion out-measuring air. From 
 the centre of the earth to the first heaven 
 the distance by her computation is 36,292 
 leagues of three miles each and two thousand 
 paces to the mile. From the surface of the 
 earth to its centre, that centre being also 
 the central point of the Infernal regions, her 
 computed distance is 117,472 leagues. How 
 far it is to the confines has not been ascer- 
 tained by discovery, and cannot be computed 
 from any known data. 
 
 Pliny has preserved an anecdote in geo- 
 logical history, which relates to this point, 
 and which, not without reason, he calls 
 exemplum vanitatis Gracce maximum. It 
 relates to a certain philosopher, Dionysio- 
 dorus by name, who was celebrated for his 
 mathematical attainments, and who it se 'ins 
 retained his attachment to that science after 
 death, and continued the pursuit of it. For 
 having died in a good old age, and received 
 all fitting sepulchral rites, he wrote a letter 
 from Hades to the female relations who had 
 succeeded to his property, and who probably
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 501 
 
 were addicted to the same studies as himself, 
 for otherwise he would not have commu- 
 nicated with them upon such a subject. 
 They found the letter in his sepulchre, 
 wherein he had deposited it as at a post- 
 oflice " till called for ; " and whither he 
 knew they would repair for the due per- 
 formance of certain ceremonies, among 
 others that of pouring libations through the 
 perforated floor of the Tomb-chamber upon 
 the dust below. The purport of his writing 
 was not to inform them of his condition in 
 the Shades, nor to communicate any infor- 
 mation concerning the World of Spirits, but 
 simply to state the scientific fact, that having 
 arrived in the depths of the earth, he had 
 found the distance from the surface to be 
 42,000 stadia. The philosophers to whom 
 this post-mortem communication was im- 
 parted, reasonably inferred that he had 
 reached the very centre, and measured from 
 that point ; they calculated upon the data 
 thus afforded them, and ascertained that the 
 globe was exactly 250,000 stadia in circum- 
 ference. Pliny, however, thought that this 
 measurement was 12,000 stadia short of the 
 true amount. Harmonica ratio, he says, 
 qua cogit rerum naturam sibi ipsam congruere, 
 addit huic mensurce stadia xii. millia; ter- 
 ramque nonagcsimam sextam totius mundi 
 partem facit. 
 
 " "What is the centre of the earth?" says 
 the melancholy Burton. " Is it pure element 
 only as Aristotle decrees ? Inhabited, as 
 Paracelsus thinks, with creatures whose 
 chaos is the earth ? Or with Faeries, as 
 the woods and waters, according to him, are 
 with Nymphs ? Or, as the air, with 
 Spirits? Dionysiodorus," he adds, "might 
 have done well to have satisfied all these 
 doubts." 
 
 But the reason, according to Doiia Oliva, 
 wherefore the place of punishment for sinful 
 souls has been appointed in the centre of 
 this our habitable earth, is this; the soul 
 being in its essence lighter than air, fire, or 
 any of the ten spheres, has its natural place 
 in the Empyreum or Heaven of Heavens, 
 where the Celestial Court is fixed, and 
 whither it would naturally ascend when set 
 
 free from the body, as to its natural and 
 proper place of rest. The punishment, 
 therefore, is appropriately appointed in the 
 place which is most remote from its native 
 region, and most repugnant to its own 
 nature ; the pain, therefore, must needs be 
 fort et dure which it endures when confined 
 within that core of the earth, to which all 
 things that are heaviest gravitate. 
 
 In these fancies she only followed or ap- 
 plied the received opinions of the middle 
 ages. A more remarkable part of her works, 
 considering the time and place in which 
 they were composed, is a Colloquy * upon 
 the means by which the World and the 
 Governments thereof might be improved. 
 Having in her former treatises laid down a 
 better system for treating the infirmities of 
 the human microcosm, she enters nothing 
 loth, and nothing doubting her own capacity, 
 upon the maladies of the body politic. 
 
 The first evils which occurred to her were 
 those of the law, its uncertainty and its 
 delays, by which properties were wasted, 
 families ruined, and hearts broken. " What 
 barbarity it is," she says, " that a cause should 
 continue forty years in the Courts ! that one 
 Counsellor should tell you the right is on 
 your side, and another should say the same 
 thing to your adversary ; that one decision 
 should be given in one place, and another to 
 revoke it in that ; and in a third a different, 
 one from either, and all three perhaps 
 equally wide of the truth and justice of the 
 case, and yet each such as can be maintained 
 by legal arguments, and supported by legal 
 authorities ! " The cause of all this she 
 ascribes to the multiplicity of laws and of 
 legal books, which were more than enough 
 to load twenty carts, and yet more were 
 continually added, and all were in Latin. 
 Could any folly exceed that of those law- 
 givers who presumed to prescribe laws for 
 all possible contingencies, and for the whole 
 course of future generations! She was 
 therefore for reducing the written laws to a 
 few fundamentals in the vernacular tongue, 
 and leaving everything else to be decided 
 
 Colloquio de las Cosai que mejoraran este Mundo y 
 sus Ilipublicas R. S.
 
 592 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 by men of good conscience and sincere un- 
 derstanding ; by which the study of j uris- 
 prudence as a science would be abolished, 
 and there might be an end to those nu- 
 merous costly professorships for which so 
 many chairs and universities had been 
 founded. Ten short commandments coin- 
 prised the law of God ; but human laws by 
 their number and by the manner in which 
 they were administered occasioned more 
 hurt to the souls of men than even to their 
 lives and fortunes ; for in courts of law it 
 was customary, even if not openly permitted, 
 to bear false witness against your neighbour, 
 to calumniate him in writing, and to seek 
 his destruction or his death. Laws which 
 touched the life ought to be written, be- 
 cause in capital cases no man ought to be 
 left to an uncertain sentence, nor to the will 
 of a Judge, but all other cases should be 
 left to the Judges, who ought always to be 
 chosen from Monasteries, or some other 
 course of retired life, and selected for their 
 religious character. This she thought, with 
 the imposition of a heavy fine for any direct 
 falsehood, or false representation advanced 
 either in evidence, or in pleading, and for 
 denying the truth, or suppressing it, would 
 produce the desired reformation. 
 
 Next she considered the condition of the 
 agricultural labourers, a class which had 
 greatly diminished, and which it was most 
 desirable to increase. Their condition was 
 to be bettered by raising their wages and 
 consequently the price of produce, and 
 exempting their cattle, their stores and their 
 persons from being taken in execution. She 
 would also have them protected against their 
 own imprudence, by preventing them from 
 obtaining credit for wedding-garments, that 
 being one of the most prevalent and ruinous 
 modes of extravagance in her days. In this 
 rank of life it sometimes happened, that a 
 shopkeeper not only seized the garments 
 themselves, but the peasant's cattle also, to 
 make up the payment of a debt thus con- 
 tracted. 
 
 She thought it a strange want of policy 
 that in a country where the corn failed for 
 want of rain, the waters with which all 
 
 brooks and rivers were filled in winter 
 should be allowed to run to waste. There- 
 fore she advised that great tanks and reser- 
 voirs should be formed for the purposes of 
 irrigation, and that they should be rendered 
 doubly profitable by stocking them with 
 fish, such as shad, tench and trout. She 
 advised also that the seed should frequently 
 be changed, and crops raised in succession, 
 because the soil loved to embrace new pro- 
 ducts : and that new plants should be intro- 
 duced from the Indies ; where hitherto the 
 Spaniards had been more intent upon intro- 
 ducing their own, than in bringing home 
 from thence others to enrich their own 
 country ; the cacao in particular she re- 
 commended, noticing that this nut for its 
 excellence had even been used as money. 
 
 Duels she thought the Christian Princes 
 and the Pope might easily prevent, by 
 erecting a Jurisdiction which should take 
 cognisance of all affairs of honour. She 
 would have had them also open the road to 
 distinction for all who deserved it, so that no 
 person should be debarred by his birth from 
 attaining to any office or rank ; " this," she 
 said, "wast he way to have more Rolands and 
 Cids, more Great Captains, more Hannibals 
 and Tamerlanes." 
 
 Such were Dona Oliva's views of political 
 reformation, the wretched state of law and 
 of medicine explaining satisfactorily to her 
 most of the evils with which Spain was 
 afflicted in the reign of Philip II. She 
 considered Law and Physic as the two great 
 plagues of human life, according to the 
 Spanish proverb, 
 
 A quien yo quiero mat, 
 De le Dios plcyto y orinal. 
 
 Upon these subjects and such as these the 
 Spanish lady might speculate freely ; if she 
 had any opinions which " savoured of the 
 frying-pan," she kept them to herself.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 393 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXI. 
 
 THE DOCTOR'S OPINION OF DONA OLIVA'S 
 PRACTICE AND HUMANITY. 
 
 Anchor dir si potrebber cose assai 
 Che la matcria e tanto picna etjalta, 
 Che non se tie verrebbe a capo mat, 
 Dunquefia buono ch' iosuoni d raccolta. 
 
 FE. SANSOTINO. 
 
 THE Doctor's opinion of Doiia Oliva's prac- 
 tice was that no one would be killed by it, 
 but that many would be allowed to die 
 whom a more active treatment might have 
 saved. It would generally fail to help the 
 patient, but it would never exasperate the 
 disease ; and therefore in her age it was an 
 improvement, for better is an inert treatment 
 than a mischievous one. 
 
 He liked her similitude of the tree, but 
 wondered that she had not noted as much 
 resemblance to the trunk and branches in 
 the bones and muscles, as in the vascular 
 system. He admired the rational part of 
 her practice, and was disposed to think some 
 parts of it not irrational which might seem 
 merely fanciful to merely practical men. 
 
 She was of opinion that more persons 
 were killed by affections of the mind, than 
 by intemperance, or by the sword : this she 
 attempts to explain by some weak reasoning 
 from a baseless theory ; but the proofs 
 which she adduces in support of the asser- 
 tion are curious. "Many persons," she 
 says, "who in her own time had fallen under 
 the King's displeasure, or even received a 
 harsh word from him, had taken to their 
 beds and died." It was not uncommon for 
 wives who loved their husbands dearly, to 
 die a few days after them ; two such in- 
 stances had occurred within the same week 
 in the town in which she resided : and she 
 adds the more affecting fact that the female 
 slaves of the better kind (esclavas abiles), 
 meaning perhaps those upon whom any care 
 had been bestowed, were frequently observed 
 to pine away as they grew up, and perish ; 
 and that this was still more frequent with 
 those who had a child born to an inheritance 
 of slavery. Mortified ambition, irremedi- 
 able grief, and hopeless misery, had within 
 
 her observation produced the same fatal 
 effect. The general fact is supported by 
 Harvey's testimony. That eminent man 
 said to Bishop Hacket that during the Great 
 Rebellion, more persons whom he had seen 
 in the course of his practice died of grief of 
 mind than of any other disease. In France 
 it was observed not only that nervous 
 diseases of every kind became much more 
 frequent during the revolution but cases of 
 cancer also, moral causes producing in 
 women a predisposition to that most dread- 
 ful disease. 
 
 Our friend was fortunate enough to live 
 in peaceful times, when there were no public 
 calamities to increase the sum of human 
 suffering. Yet even then, and within the 
 limits of his own not extensive circle, he 
 saw cases enough to teach him that it is 
 difficult to minister to a mind diseased, but 
 that for a worm in the core there is no 
 remedy within the power of man. 
 
 He liked Dona Oliva for the humanity 
 which her observations upon this subject 
 implies. He liked her also for following the 
 indications of nature in part of her practice ; 
 much the better he liked her for prescribing 
 all soothing circumstances and all induce- 
 ments to cheerfulness that were possible; 
 and nothing the worse for having carried 
 some of her notions to a whimsical extent. 
 He had built an Infirmary in the air himself, 
 "others," he said, "might build Castles there." 
 
 It was not such an Infirmary as the great 
 Hospital at Malta, where the Knights 
 attended in rotation and administered to the 
 patients, and where every culinary utensil 
 was made of solid silver, such was the 
 ostentatious magnificence of the establish- 
 ment. The doctor provided better attend- 
 ance, for he had also built a Beguinage in 
 the air, as an auxiliary institution ; and 
 as to the utensils, he was of opinion that 
 careful neatness was very much better than 
 useless splendour. But here he would have 
 given Dona Oliva's soothing system a fair 
 trial, and have surrounded the patients with 
 all circumstances that could minister to the 
 comfort or alleviation of either a body or a 
 mind diseased. " The principal remedy in 
 
 QQ
 
 594 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 true medicine," said that Lady practitioner, 
 " is to reconcile the mind and body, or to 
 bring them in accord with each other, 
 (componer el anima con el cuerpo : ) to effect 
 this you must administer contentment and 
 pleasure to the mind, and comfort to the 
 stomach and to the brain : the mind can 
 only be reached by judicious discourse and 
 pleasing objects ; the stomach is to be com- 
 forted by restoratives ; the brain by sweet 
 odours and sweet sounds." The prospect of 
 groves and gardens, the shade of trees, the 
 flowing of water, or its gentle fall, music and 
 cheerful conversation, were things which she 
 especially advised. How little these circum- 
 stances would avail in the fiercer forms of 
 acute diseases, or in the protracted evils of 
 chronic suffering, the Doctor knew but too 
 well. But he knew also that medical art 
 was humanely and worthily employed, when 
 it alleviated what no human skill could cure. 
 " So great," says Dr. Currie, " are the 
 difficulties of tracing out the hidden causes 
 of the disorders to which this frame of ours 
 is subject, that the most candid of the pro- 
 fession have allowed and lamented how 
 unavoidably they are in the dark ; so that 
 the best medicines, administered by the 
 wisest heads, shall often do the mischief 
 they intend to prevent." There are more 
 reasons for this than Dr. Currie has here 
 assigned. For not only are many of the 
 diseases which flesh is heir to, obscure in 
 their causes, difficultly distinguishable by 
 their symptoms, and altogether mysterious 
 in their effect upon the system, but consti- 
 tutions may be as different as tempers, and 
 their varieties may be as many and as great 
 as those of the human countenance. Thus 
 it is explained wherefore the treatment 
 which proves successful with one patient 
 should fail with another, though precisely in 
 the same stage of the same disease. Another 
 and not unfrequent cause of failure is that 
 the life of a patient may depend as much 
 upon administering the right remedy at the 
 right point of time, as the success of an 
 alchemist was supposed to do upon seizing 
 the moment of projection. And where 
 constant attendance is not possible, or where 
 
 skill is wanting, it must often happen that 
 the opportunity is lost. This cause would 
 not exist in the Columbian Infirmary, where 
 the ablest Physicians would be always 
 within instant call, and where the Beguines 
 in constant attendance would have sufficient 
 skill to know when that call became neces- 
 sary. 
 
 " A ship-captain," the Doctor used to say, 
 "when he approaches the coast of France 
 from the Bay of Biscay, or draws near the 
 mouth of the British Channel, sends down 
 the lead into the sea, and from the ap- 
 pearance of the sand which adheres to its 
 tallowed bottom, he is enabled to find upon 
 the chart where he is, with sufficient pre- 
 cision for directing his course. Think," he 
 would say, " what an apparently impossible 
 accumulation of experience there must have 
 been, before the bottom of that sea every- 
 where within soundings could be so ac- 
 curately known, as to be marked on charts 
 which may be relied on with perfect con- 
 fidence ! No formal series of experiments 
 was ever instituted for acquiring this know- 
 ledge ; and there is nothing in history which 
 can lead us to conjecture about what time 
 sailors first began to trust to it. The boasted 
 astronomy of the Hindoos and Egyptians 
 affords a feebler apparent proof in favour 
 of the false antiquity of the world, than 
 might be inferred from this practice. Now 
 if experience in the Art of Healing had 
 been treasured up with equal care, it is not 
 too much to say that therapeutics might 
 have been as much advanced, as navigation 
 has been by preserving the collective know- 
 ledge of so many generations." * 
 
 The prince 
 
 Of Poets, Homer, sang long since, 
 A skilful leech is better far 
 Than half a hundred men of war. 
 
 Such prescriptions as were composed of 
 any part of the human body were repro- 
 
 * The following fragments belong to the chapters wliich 
 were to have treated on the Medical Science. Thej- may 
 therefore appropriately be appended to these chapters on 
 Dofia Oliva. I have only prefixed a motto from Butler.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 59o 
 
 bated by Galen, and he severely condemned 
 Xenocrates for having introduced them, as 
 being worse than useless in themselves, and 
 wicked in their consequences. Yet these 
 abominable ingredients continued in use till 
 what may be called the Reformation of 
 medicine in the Seventeenth century. Hu- 
 man bones were administered internally as 
 a cure for ulcers, and the bones were to be 
 those of the part affected. A preparation 
 called Aqua Divina was made by cutting in 
 pieces the body of a healthy man who had 
 died a violent death, and distilling it with 
 the bones and intestines. Human blood 
 was prescribed for epilepsy, by great autho- 
 rities, but others equally great with better 
 reason condemned the practice, for this 
 among other causes, that it might com- 
 municate the diseases of the person from 
 whom it was taken. Ignorant surgeons 
 when they bled a patient used to make him 
 drink the warm blood that he might not lose 
 the life which it contained. The heart dried, 
 and taken in powder, was thought good 
 in fevers ; but conscientious practitioners 
 were of opinion that it ought not to be used, 
 because of the dangerous consequences which 
 might be expected if such a remedy were in 
 demand. It is not long since a Physician 
 at Heidelberg prescribed human brains to 
 be taken inwardly in violent fevers, and 
 boasted of wonderful cures. And another 
 German administered cat's entrails as a 
 panacea ! 
 
 The Egyptian physicians, each being con- 
 fined to the study and treatment of one part 
 of the body, or one disease, were bound to 
 proceed in all cases according to the pre- 
 scribed rules of their art. If the patient 
 died under this treatment, no blame attached 
 to the physician ; but woe to the rash prac- 
 titioner who ventured to save a life by any 
 means out of the regular routine ; the suc- 
 cess of the experiment was not admitted as 
 an excuse for the transgression, and he was 
 punished with death; for the law presumed 
 that in every case the treatment enjoined 
 was such as by common consent of the most 
 learned professors had been approved, be- 
 
 cause by long experience it had been found 
 beneficial. The laws had some right to 
 interfere because physicians received a pub- 
 lic stipend. 
 
 Something like this prevails at this day in 
 China. It is enacted in the Ta Tsing Leu 
 Lee, that "when unskilful practitioners of 
 medicine or surgery administer drugs, or 
 perform operations with the puncturing 
 needle, contrary to the established rules 
 and practice, and thereby kill the patient, 
 the Magistrates shall call in other prac- 
 titioners to examine the nature of the medi- 
 cine, or of the wound, as the case may 
 be, which proved mortal ; and if it shall ap- 
 pear upon the whole to have been simply an 
 error without any design to injure the pa- 
 tient, the practitioner shall be allowed to 
 redeem himself from the punishment of 
 homicide, as in cases purely accidental, but 
 shall be obliged to quit his profession for 
 ever. If it shall appear that a medical 
 practitioner intentionally deviates from the 
 established rules and practice, and while 
 pretending to remove the disease of his 
 patient, aggravates the complaint, in order 
 to extort more money for its cure, the money 
 so extorted shall ba considered to have been 
 stolen, and punishment inflicted accordingly, 
 in proportion to the amount. If the patient 
 dies, the medical practitioner who is con- 
 victed of designedly employing improper 
 medicines, or otherwise contriving to injure 
 his patient, shall suffer death by being 
 beheaded after the usual period of con- 
 finement." 
 
 No man ever entertained a higher opinion 
 of medical science, and the dignity of a 
 Physician, than Van Helmont. What has 
 been said of the Poet ought, in his opinion, 
 to be said of the Physician also, Nascitur, non 
 Jit; and in his relation to the Creator, he 
 was more Poet, or Prophet, whom the word 
 VAXES brings under one predicament, 
 more than Priest. Scilicet Pater Miseri- 
 cordiarum, qui Medicum ab initio, ceu Me- 
 diatorem inter Deum et hominem, constituit, 
 immo sibi in deliciis posuit, d Medico vinci 
 velle, nimirum, ad hoc se creasse peculiari 
 
 QQ 2
 
 596 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 elogio, et elegisse tcatatur. Ita est sane. Non 
 enim citius hominem ptmit Deus, infirmat, aut 
 interimere minatur, sibi quam optet opponentem 
 Medicum, ut se Omnipotentem, etiam meritas 
 immittendo pcenas, vincat propriis dementia 
 SUCE donis. Ejusmodi autem Medici sunt in 
 venire matris prceparati, suo fungentes mu- 
 nere, nullius lucri intuitu, nudeque reflectuntur 
 super beneplacilum (immo mandaturn) illius, 
 qui solus, vere misericors, nos jubet, sub in- 
 dictionepcence infemalis,forePatri suo similes. 
 
 Obedite praepositis pr&ceptum quidem : 
 sed honora parentes, honora Medicum, an- 
 gustius est quam obedire, cum cogamur etiam 
 obedire minoribus. Medicus enim Mediator 
 inter Vitce Principem et Mortem. 
 
 " To wit," this done into English by 
 3. C. sometime of M. H. Oxon. "the 
 Father of mercies, he who appointed a Phy- 
 sician, or Mediator between God and man 
 from the beginning, yea He made it his de- 
 light that he would be overcome by a Phy- 
 sician, indeed he testifieth that he created 
 and chose him to this end for a peculiar 
 testimony of his praise. It is so in truth. 
 For no sooner doth He punish, weaken, and 
 threaten to kill man, but he desireth a 
 Physician opposing himself, that He may 
 conquer himself, being Omnipotent, and 
 even in sending deserved punishments, by 
 the proper gifts of his clemency. Of this 
 sort are Physicians, which are fitted from 
 their Mothers' wombs, exercise their gift with 
 respect to no gain ; and they are nakedly 
 cast upon the good pleasure yea the com- 
 mand of him, who alone being truly mer- 
 ciful commands us that, under pain of in- 
 fernal punishment, we be like to his father. 
 
 Obey those that sit over you, is a precept 
 indeed ; but honour thy Parents, honour 
 the Physician, is more strict than to obey, 
 seeing we are constrained even to obey our 
 youngers. For the Physician is a Mediator 
 between the Prince of life and Death." 
 
 Some of the Floridian tribes had a high 
 opinion of medical virtue. They buried all 
 their dead, except the Doctors ; them they 
 burned, reduced their bones to powder, and 
 drank it in water. 
 
 A century ago the Lions in the Tower 
 were named after the different Sovereigns 
 then reigning, "and it has been observed 
 that when a King dies, the Lion of that 
 name dies also." 
 
 In the great Place at Delhi the poor 
 Astrologers sit, as well Mahometan as 
 Heathen. These Doctors, forsooth, sit there 
 in the sun upon a piece of tapestry, all 
 covered with dust, having about them some 
 old mathematical instruments, which they 
 make show of to draw passengers, and a 
 great open book representing the animals of 
 the Zodiac. These men are the oracles of 
 the vulgar, to whom they pretend to give for 
 one Payssa, that is a penny, good luck, and 
 they are they that looking upon the hands 
 and face, turning over their books and 
 making a show of calculation, determine the 
 fortunate moment when a business is to be 
 begun, to make it successful. The mean 
 women, wrapped up in a white sheet from 
 head to foot, come to find them out, telling 
 them in their ear their most secret concerns, 
 as if they were their confessors, and intreat 
 them to render the stars propitious to them, 
 and suitable to their designs, as if they could 
 absolutely dispose of their influences. 
 
 The most ridiculous of all these astrologers, 
 in my opinion, was a mongrel Portugueze 
 from Goa, who sat with much gravity upon 
 his piece of tapestry, like the rest, and had 
 a great deal of custom, though he could 
 neither read nor write ; and as for instru- 
 ments and books was furnished with nothing 
 but an old sea-compass, and an old Romish 
 prayer-book in the Portugueze language, of 
 which he showed the pictures for figures of 
 the Zodiac. " As taes bestlas, tal Astrologo, 
 for such beasts, such an Astrologer," said 
 he to father Buze, a Jesuit, who met him 
 there. 
 
 M. Rondeau in 1 780 opened a large tu- 
 mour which had grown behind a woman's 
 left ear, at Brussels, and found in it a stone, 
 in form and size like a pigeon's egg, which 
 all the experiments to which it was subject 
 proved to be a real Bezoar, of the same
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 597 
 
 colour, structure, taste and substance with 
 the oriental and occidental Bezoars. This, 
 however, was a fact which the Doctor could 
 not exactly accommodate to his theory, 
 though it clearly belonged to it ; the diffi- 
 culty was not in this, that there are those 
 animals in which the Bezoar is produced, 
 the goat, in which it is most frequent, the 
 cow, in which it is of less value, and the ape, 
 in which it is very seldom found, but is of 
 most efficacy. Through either of these 
 forms the Archeus might have passed. But 
 how the Bezoar, which is formed in the 
 stomach of these animals, should have con- 
 creted in a sort of wen upon the woman's 
 head was a circumstance altogether ano- 
 malous. 
 
 At Mistra, a town built from the ruins of 
 Sparta, the sick are daily brought and laid 
 at the doors of the metropolitan Church, as 
 at the gates of the ancient temples, that 
 those who repair thither to worship may 
 indicate to them the remedies by which 
 their health may be recovered. 
 
 It is well remarked of the Spaniards by 
 the Abbe de Vayrac, Que dun trop grand 
 attuchement pour les Anciens en matiere de 
 Philosophic et de Medecine, et de trop de 
 negligence pour eux en matiere de Poesie, il 
 arrive presque toujours quils ne sont ni 
 bons Philosophes, ni bons Medecins, ni bans 
 Poetes. 
 
 The desire of having something on which 
 to rely, as dogmatical truths, " as it appears," 
 says Donne, "in all sciences, so most mani- 
 festly in Physic, which for a long time 
 considering nothing but plain curing, and 
 that by example and precedent, the world 
 at last longed for some certain canons and 
 rules how these cures might be accomplished : 
 and when men are inflamed with this desire, 
 and that such a fire breaks out, it rages and 
 consumes infinitely by heat of argument, 
 except some of authority interpose. This 
 produced Hippocrates his Aphorisms ; and 
 the world slumbered, or took breath, in his 
 resolution divers hundreds of years. And 
 
 then in Galen's time, which was not satisfied 
 with the effect of curing, nor with the 
 knowledge how to cure, broke out another 
 desire of finding out the causes why those 
 simples wrought those effects. Then Galen, 
 rather to stay their stomachs than that he 
 gave them enough, taught them the qualities 
 of the four Elements, and arrested them 
 upon this, that all differences of qualities 
 proceeded from them. And after, (not 
 much before our time,} men perceiving that 
 all effects in physic could not be derived 
 from these beggarly and impotent proper- 
 ties of the Elements, and that therefore they 
 were driven often to that miserable refuge 
 of specific form, and of antipathy and sym- 
 pathy, we see the world hath turned upon 
 new principles, which are attributed to 
 Paracelsus, but indeed too much to his 
 honour." 
 
 '' This indenture made 26 Apr. 18 Hen. 8, 
 between Sir Walter Strickland, knight, of 
 one part, and Alexander Kenet, Doctor of 
 Physic, on the other part, witnesseth, that 
 the said Alexander permitteth, granteth, 
 and by these presents bindeth him, that he 
 will, with the grace and help of God, render 
 and bring the said Sir Walter Strickland to 
 perfect health of all his infirmities and 
 diseases contained in his person, and espe- 
 cially stomach and lungs and breast, wherein 
 he has most disease and grief; and over to 
 minister such medicines truly to the said 
 Sir Walter Strickland, in such manner and 
 ways as the said Master Alexander may 
 make the said Sir Walter heal of all in- 
 firmities and diseases, in as short time as 
 possible may be, with the grace and help of 
 God. And also the said Master Alexander 
 granteth he shall not depart at no time from 
 the said Sir Walter without his license, 
 unto the time the said Sir Walter be 
 perfect heal, with the grace and help of 
 God. For the which care the said Sir 
 Walter Strictland granteth by these pre- 
 sents, binding himself to pay or cause to be 
 paid to the said Mr. Alexander or his 
 assigns ^20. sterling monies of good and 
 lawful money of England, in manner and
 
 598 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 form following : that is, five marks to be 
 paid upon the first day of May next ensuing, 
 and all the residue of the said sum of .^20. 
 to be paid parcel by parcel as shall please 
 the said Sir Walter, as he thinks necessary 
 to be delivered and paid in the time of his 
 disease, for sustaining such charges as the 
 said Mr. Alexander must use in medicine 
 for reducing the said Sir Walter to health ; 
 and so the said payment continued and 
 made, to the time the whole sum of 2Q. 
 aforesaid be fully contented and paid. In 
 witness whereof, either to these present 
 indentures have interchangeably set their 
 seals, the day and year above mentioned." 
 
 Sir Walter, however, died on the 9th of 
 January following. 
 
 Je voudrois de bon cceur, says an inter- 
 locutor in one of the evening conversation 
 parties of Guillaume Bouchet, Sieur de 
 Brocourt, quil y eust des Medecins pour 
 remedier aux ennuis et maladies de fesprit, 
 ne plus ne mains qu'il en y a qui guerissent 
 les maladies et douleurs du corps ; comme il 
 se trouve quil y en avoit en Grece ; car il est 
 escrit que Xenophon ayant faict bastir une 
 maison a Corinthe, il mit en un billet sur la 
 porte, qu'il faisoit profession, et avoit le 
 moyen de guerir de paroles ceux qui estoient 
 ennuyez et faschez ; et leur demandant les 
 causes de leurs ennuis, il les guerissoit, les 
 recomfortant, et consolant de leurs douleurs et 
 ennuis. 
 
 Under barbarous governments the most 
 atrocious practices are still in use. It was 
 reported in India that when Hyder Aly was 
 suffering with a malignant bile on his back 
 common in that country, and which oc- 
 casioned his death, an infant's liver was 
 applied to it every day. An Englishman in 
 the service of Phizal Beg Cawn was on an 
 embassy at Madras when this story was 
 current ; the Governor asked him whether 
 he thought it likely to be true, and he ac- 
 knowledged his belief in it, giving this suf- 
 ficient reason, that his master Phizal Beg had 
 tried the same remedy, but then he begged 
 leave to affirm, in behalf of his master, that 
 
 the infants killed for his use were slaves, 
 and his own property. 
 
 Of odd notions concerning virginity I do 
 not remember a more curious one than that 
 virgin mummy was preferred in medicine. 
 
 INTERCHAPTER XXV. 
 
 A WISHING INTERCHAPTER WHICH IS SHORTLY 
 TERMINATED, ON SUDDENLY RECOLLECTING 
 
 THE WORDS OF CLEOPATRA, " WISHERS 
 
 WERE EVER FOOLS." 
 
 Begin betimes, occasion's bald behind, 
 Stop not thine opportunity, for fear too late 
 Thou seek'st for much, but canst not compass it. 
 MARLOWE. 
 
 Plust a Dieu que feusse presentement cent 
 soixante et dixnuit millions d'or I says a 
 personage in Rabelais : ho, comment je 
 triumpherois J 
 
 It was a good, honest, large, capacious 
 wish ; and in wishing, it is as well to wish 
 for enough. By enough, in the way of 
 riches, a man is said to mean always some- 
 thing more than he has. Without exposing 
 myself to any such censorious remark, I will, 
 like the person above quoted, limit my 
 desires to a positive sum, and wish for just 
 one million a-year. 
 
 " And what would you do with it ? " says 
 Mr. Sobersides. 
 
 " Attendez encores un peu, avec demie once 
 de patience" 
 
 I now esteem my venerable self 
 
 As brave a fellow, as if all that pelf 
 
 Were sure mine own ; and I have thought a way 
 
 Already how to spend. 
 
 And first, for my private expenditure, I 
 would either buy a house to my mind, or 
 build one ; and it should be such as a house 
 ought to be, which I once heard a glorious 
 agriculturist define " a house that should 
 have in it everything that is voluptuous, 
 and necessary and right." In my accep- 
 tation of that felicitous definition, I request 
 the reader to understand that everything 
 which is right is intended, and nothing but 
 what is perfectly so : that is to say I mean 
 every possible accommodation conducive to
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 599 
 
 health and comfort. It should be large 
 enough for my friends, and not so large as 
 to serve as an hotel for my acquaintance, 
 and I would live in it at the rate of five 
 thousand a-year, beyond which no real and 
 reasonable enjoyment is to be obtained by 
 money. 
 
 I would neither keep hounds, nor hunters, 
 nor running horses. 
 
 I would neither solicit nor accept a 
 peerage. I would not go into Parliament. 
 I would take no part whatever in what is 
 called public life, farther than to give my 
 vote at an election against a Whig, or against 
 any one who would give his in favour of the 
 Catholic Question. 
 
 I would not wear my coat quite so thread- 
 bare as I do at present : but I would still 
 keep to my old shoes, as long as they would 
 keep to me. 
 
 But stop Cleopatra adopted some wi- 
 zard's words when she said " Wishers were 
 ever fools ! " 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXH. 
 
 ETYMOLOGY. UN TOUR BE MAITRE GONIN. 
 ROMAN DE VAUDEMONT AND THE LETTER C. 
 SHENSTONE. THE DOCTOR'S USE OF CHRIS- 
 TIAN NAMES. 
 
 ARISTOPHANES. 
 
 Magnus thesaurus latet in nominibus, said 
 Strafford, then Lord Deputy Wentworth, 
 when noticing a most unwise scheme which 
 was supposed to proceed from Sir Abraham 
 Dawes, he observes, it appeared most plainly 
 that he had not his name for nothing ! In 
 another letter, he says, " I begin to hope I 
 may in time as well understand these 
 customs as Sir Abraham Dawes. Why 
 should I fear it ? for I have a name less 
 ominous than his." 
 
 Gonin, Court de Gebelin says, is a French 
 word or rather name which exists only in 
 these proverbial phrases, Maitre Gonin, 
 un tour de Maitre Gonin ; it designates un 
 Maitre passe en ruses et artifices ; un homme 
 Jin et ruse. The origin of the word, says 
 
 he, was altogether unknown. Menage 
 rejects with the utmost contempt the opinion 
 of those who derive it from the Hebrew 
 PIJJ, Gwunen, a diviner, an enchanter. It 
 is true that this etymology has been ad- 
 vanced too lightly, and without proofs ; 
 Menage, however, ought to have been less 
 contemptuous, because he could substitute 
 nothing in its place. 
 
 It is remarkable that neither Menage nor 
 Court de Gebelin should have known that 
 Maistre Gounin was a French conjuror, as 
 well known in his day as Katterfelto and 
 Jonas, or the Sieur Ingleby Emperor of 
 Conjurors in later times. He flourished in 
 the days of Francis the First, before whom he 
 is said to have made a private exhibition of 
 his art in a manner perfectly characteristic 
 of that licentious King and his profligate 
 court. Thus he effected par ses inventions, 
 illusions et sorcelleries et enchantements, 
 car il estoit un homme fort expert ct subtil en 
 son art, says Brantome ; et son petit-fils, que 
 nous avons veu, n'y eniendoit rien au prix de 
 luy. Grandfather and grandson having 
 been at the head of their worshipful pro- 
 fession, the name passed into a proverbial 
 expression, and survived all memory of the 
 men. 
 
 Court de Gebelin traced its etymology 
 far and wide. He says, it is incontestable 
 that this word is common to us with the 
 ancient Hebrews, though it does not come 
 to us from them. We are indebted for it 
 to the English. Cunning designe chez eux un 
 homme adroit, fin, ruse. Master Cunning a 
 fait Maitre Gonin. This word comes from 
 the primitive Cen pronounced Ken, which 
 signifies ability, (habilite,') art, power. The 
 Irish have made from it Kami, I know ; 
 Kunna, to know ; Kenning, knowledge, 
 (science) ; Kenni-immn, wise men (homines 
 savans,~) Doctors, Priests. 
 
 It is a word common to all the dialects of 
 the Celtic and Teutonic ; to the Greek in 
 which Konne-ein * signifies to know (savoir), 
 to be intelligent and able, &c., to the Tartar 
 languages, &c. 
 
 So in the MS.
 
 600 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Les Anglois, associant Cunning avec Man, 
 homme, en font le mot Cunning-Man, qui 
 signifie Devin, Enchanteur, homme qui fait 
 de grandes choses, et qui est habile : cest done 
 Le correspondent du mot Hebreu Gwunen, 
 Enchanteur, Devin ; Gwuna, Magicienne, 
 Devineresse ; d'ou le verbe Gwunen, deviner, 
 observer les Augures, faire des prestiges. Ne 
 soyons pas etonnes, says the author, bringing 
 this example to bear upon his system, de 
 voir ce mot commun a tant de Peuples, et si 
 ancien : il vint chez tons d'une source commune, 
 de la haute Asie, berceau de tons ces Peuples 
 et de leur Langue. 
 
 If Mr. Canning had met with the fore- 
 going passage towards the close of his poli- 
 tical life, when he had attained the summit 
 of his wishes, how would it have affected 
 him in his sober mind ? Would it have 
 tickled his vanity, or stung his conscience ? 
 Would he have been flattered by seeing his 
 ability prefigured in his name ? or would he 
 have been mortified at the truth conveyed 
 in the proverbial French application of it, 
 and have acknowledged in his secret heart 
 that cunning is as incompatible with self- 
 esteem as it is with uprightness, with mag- 
 nanimity, and with true greatness ? 
 
 His name was unlucky not only in its 
 signification, but according to Roman de 
 Vaudeinont, in its initial. 
 
 Maudit e$t nom qui-par C se commence, 
 Coquin, cornard, caignard, coqu, caphard : 
 Aussi par .B, badaud, badin, bavard, 
 
 Mait fire est C, sij'ay bien remembrance. 
 
 Much as the Doctor insisted upon the 
 virtues of what he called the divine initial, 
 he reprehended the uncharitable sentiment 
 of these verses, and thought that the author 
 never could have played at " I love my 
 Love with an A," or that the said game 
 perhaps was not known among the French ; 
 for you must get to x, y, and z before you 
 find it difficult to praise her in any letter 
 in the alphabet, and to dispraise her in the 
 same. 
 
 Initials therefore, he thought, (always 
 with one exception,) of no other consequence 
 than as they pleased the ear, and combined 
 gracefully in a cypher, upon a seal or ring. 
 
 But in names themselves a great deal more 
 presents itself to a reflecting mind. 
 
 Shenstone used to bless his good fortune 
 that his name was not obnoxious to a pun. 
 He would not have liked to have been com- 
 plimented in the same strain as a certain 
 Mr. Pegge was by an old epigrammatist. 
 
 What wonder if my friendship's force doth last 
 Firm to your goodness ? 5fou have pegg'd it fast. 
 
 Little could he foresee, as Dr. Southey has 
 observed, that it was obnoxious to a rhyme 
 in French English. In the gardens of Er- 
 menonville M. * placed this in- 
 
 scription to his honour. 
 
 This plain stone 
 
 To William Shenstone. 
 In his writings he display'd 
 A mind natural ; 
 At Leasowes he laid 
 
 Arcadian greens rural. 
 
 Poor Shenstone hardly appears more ridi- 
 culous in the frontispiece to his own works, 
 where, in the heroic attitude of a poet who 
 has won the prize and is about to receive 
 the crown, he stands before Apollo in a 
 shirt and boa, as destitute of another less 
 dispensable part of dress as Adam in Eden ; 
 but like Adam when innocent, not ashamed : 
 while the shirtless God holding a lyre in one 
 hand prepares with the other to place a 
 wreath of bay upon the brow of his delighted 
 votary. 
 
 The father of Sir Joshua Reynolds fancied 
 that if he gave his son an uncommon Chris- 
 tian name, it might be the means of better- 
 ing his fortune ; and therefore he had him 
 christened Joshua. It does not appear, 
 however, that the name ever proved as con- 
 venient to the great painter as it did to Joshua 
 Barnes. He to whose Barnesian labours 
 Homer and Queen Esther, and King 
 Edward III. bear witness, was a good man 
 and a good scholar, and a rich widow who 
 not imprudently inferred that he would 
 make a good husband, gave him an oppor- 
 tunity by observing to him one day that 
 Joshua made the Sun and Moon stand still, 
 and significantly adding that nothing could 
 resist Joshua. The hint was not thrown 
 
 So in the MS.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 601 
 
 away ; and he never had cause to repent 
 that he had taken, nor she that she had 
 given it. 
 
 A Spanish gentleman who made it his 
 pastime to write books of chivalry, being to 
 bring into his work a furious Giant, went 
 many days devising a name which might in 
 all points be answerable to his fierceness ; 
 neither could he light upon any ; till playing 
 one day at cards in his friend's house, he 
 heard the master of the house say to the boy 
 muchacho tra qui tantos. As soon as 
 he heard Traquitantos he laid down his 
 cards, and said that now he had found a 
 name which would fit well for his Giant.* 
 
 I know not whether it was the happy- 
 minded author of the Worthies and the 
 Church History of Britain who proposed as 
 an Epitaph for himself the words " Fuller's 
 Earth," or whether some one proposed it for 
 him. But it is in his own style of thought 
 and feeling. 
 
 Nor has it any unbeseeming levity, like 
 this which is among Browne's poems. 
 
 Here lieth in sooth 
 Honest John Tooth, 
 Whom Death on a day 
 From us drew away. 
 
 Or this upon a Mr. Button, 
 
 Here lieth one, God rest his soul, 
 Whose grave is but a button-hole. 
 
 No one was ever punned to death, nor, 
 though Ditton is said to have died in con- 
 sequence of "the unhappy effect" which 
 Swift's verses produced upon him, can I 
 believe that any one was ever rhymed to 
 death. 
 
 A man may with better reason bless his 
 godfathers and godmothers if they chuse for 
 him a name which is neither too common 
 nor too peculiar .f 
 
 It is not a good thing to be Tom'd or 
 Bob'd, Jack'd or Jim'd, Sam'd or Ben'd, 
 Natty'd or Batty'd, Neddy 'd or Teddy'd, 
 WilPd or Bill'd, Dick'd ^or Nick'd, Joe'd or 
 Jerry'd, as you go through the world. And 
 yet it is worse to have a Christian name, 
 
 * HUARTE. 
 
 f It is said of an eccentric individual that he never 
 forgave his Godfathers and Godmother for giving him the 
 name of Moses, fur which the short is Mo. 
 
 I that for its oddity shall be in every body's 
 ; mouth when you are spoken of, as if it were 
 pinned upon your back, or labelled upon 
 your forehead : Quintin Dick, for example, 
 which would have been still more unlucky 
 if Mr. Dick had happened to have a cast in 
 his eye. The Report on Parochial Regis- 
 tration contains a singular example of the 
 inconvenience which may arise from giving 
 a child an uncouth Christian name. A 
 gentleman called Anketil Gray had occasion 
 for a certificate of his baptism: it was 
 known at what church he had been baptized, 
 but on searching the register there no such 
 nanle could be found ; some mistake was 
 presumed therefore not in the entry, but in 
 the recollection of the parties, and many 
 other registers were examined without suc- 
 cess. At length the first register was again 
 recurred to, and then upon a closer investiga- 
 tion they found him entered as Miss Ann 
 Kettle Grey. 
 
 Souvent, says Brantome, ceux qui portent 
 le nom de leurs ayeuls, leur ressemblent 
 volontiers, comme je Fay veu observer et en 
 discourir d aucuns philosophes. He makes 
 this remark after observing that the Em- 
 peror Ferdinand was named after his grand- 
 father Ferdinand of Arragon, and Charles 
 V. after his great-grandfather Charles the 
 Bold. But such resemblances are, as 
 Brantome implies, imitational where they 
 exist. And Mr. Keightley's observation, 
 that " a man's name and his occupation 
 have often a most curious coincidence," 
 rests perhaps on a similar ground, men 
 being sometimes designated by their names 
 for the way of life which they are to pursue. 
 Many a boy has been called Nelson in our 
 own days, and Rodney in our father's, 
 because he was intended for the sea service, 
 and many a seventh son has been christened 
 Luke, in the hope that he might live to be a 
 physician. In what other business than 
 that of lottery-office would the name 
 Goodluck so surely have brought business 
 to the house ? Captain Death could never 
 have practised medicine or surgery, unless 
 under an alias; but there would be no 
 better name with which to meet an enemy
 
 602 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 in battle. Dr. Damman was an eminent 
 physician and royal professor of midwifery 
 at Ghent in the latter part of the last cen- 
 tury. He ought to have been a Calvinistic 
 divine. 
 
 The Ancients paid so great a regard to 
 names, that whenever a number of men 
 were to be examined on suspicion, they 
 began by putting to the torture the one 
 whose name was esteemed the vilest. And 
 this must not be supposed to have had its 
 origin in any reasonable probability, such as 
 might be against a man who, being appre- 
 hended for a riot, should say his name was 
 Patrick Murphy, or Dennis O'Connor, or 
 Thady O'Callaghan; or against a Moses 
 Levi, or a Daniel Abrahams for uttering bad 
 money ; it was for the import of the name 
 itself, and the evidence of a base and servile 
 origin which it implied. 
 
 JTui ete tousjours fort etonne, says 
 Bayle, que les families qui portent un nom 
 odieux ou ridicule, ne le quitent pas. The 
 Leatherheads and Shufflebottoms, the Hig- 
 genses and Huggenses, the Scroggses and 
 the Scraggses, Sheepshanks and Rams- 
 bottoms, Taylors and Barbers, and worse 
 than all, Butchers, would have been to 
 Bayle as abominable as they were to Dr. 
 Dove. "I ought," the Doctor would say, 
 " to have a more natural dislike to the names 
 of Kite, Hawk, Falcon and Eagle ; and yet 
 they are to me (the first excepted) less 
 odious than names like these : and even 
 preferable to Bull, Bear, Pig, Hog, Fox or 
 Wolf." 
 
 "What a name," he would say, "is Lamb 
 for a soldier, Joy for an undertaker, Rich for 
 a pauper, or Noble for a taylor : Big for a 
 lean and little person, and Small for one 
 who is broad in the rear and abdominous in 
 the van. Short for a fellow six feet without 
 his shoes, or Long for him whose high heels 
 hardly elevate him to the height of five. 
 Sweet for one who has either a vinegar face, 
 or a foxey complexion. Younghusband 
 for an old bachelor. Merryweather for 
 any one in November and February, a black 
 spring, a cold summer or a wet autumn. 
 Goodenough for a person no better than he 
 
 should be : Toogood for any human crea- 
 ture, and Best for a subject who is perhaps 
 too bad to be endured." 
 
 Custom having given to every Christian 
 name its alias, he always used either the 
 baptismal name or its substitute as it hap- 
 pened to suit his fancy, careless of what 
 others might do. Thus he never called any 
 woman Mary, though Mare he said being 
 the sea was in many respects but too em- 
 blematic of the sex. It was better to use 
 a synonyme of better omen, and Molly 
 therefore was to be preferred as being soft. 
 If he accosted a vixen of that name in her 
 worst temper he mollyfied her. On the 
 contrary he never could be induced to 
 substitute Sally for Sarah. Sally he said 
 had a salacious sound, and moreover it 
 reminded him of rovers, which women 
 ought not to be. Martha he called Patty, 
 because it came pat to the tongue. Dorothy 
 remained Dorothy, because it was neither 
 fitting that women should be made Dolls 
 nor Idols. Susan with him was always 
 Sue, because women were to be sued, and 
 Winifred AVinny because they were to be 
 won. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXIII. 
 
 TRUE PRONUNCIATION OF THE NAME OF DOVE. 
 DIFFICULTIES OF PRONUNCIATION AND PRO- 
 SODY. A TRUE AND PERFECT RHYME HIT 
 UPON. 
 
 Tal nombre, que a los siglos extendido, 
 
 Se olvide de olvidarsele al Olfido. LOPE DB VEGA. 
 
 CONSIDERING the many mysteries which our 
 Doctor discovered in the name of Dove, 
 and not knowing but that many more may 
 be concealed in it which will in due time be 
 brought to light, I am particularly desirous, 
 I am solicitous, I am anxious, I 
 wish (which is as much as if a Quaker were 
 to say " I am moved," or " it is upon my 
 mind,") to fix for posterity, if possible, the 
 true pronunciation of that name. If possible, 
 I say, because whatever those readers may 
 think, who have never before had the sub
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 603 
 
 ject presented to their thoughts, it is ex- 
 ceedingly difficult. My solicitude upon this 
 point will not appear groundless, if it be 
 recollected to what strange changes pro- 
 nunciation is liable, not from lapse of time 
 alone, but from caprice and fashion. Who 
 in the present generation knows not how 
 John Kemble was persecuted about his 
 a-ches, a point wherein, right as he was, he 
 was proved to be wrong by a new norma 
 loquendi. Our allies are no longer iambic 
 as they were wont to be, but pure trochees 
 now, like Alley Croker and Mr. Alley the 
 counsellor. Beta is at this day called Veto. 
 in Greece, to the confusion of Sir John 
 Cheke, to the triumph of Bishop Gardiner, 
 and in contempt of the whole ovine race. 
 Nay, to bring these observations home to 
 the immediate purport of this chapter, the 
 modern Greeks when they read this book 
 will call the person, on whose history it 
 relates, Thaniel Thove ! and the Thoctor ! 
 their Delta having undergone as great a 
 change as the Delta in Egypt. Have I not 
 reason then for my solicitude ? 
 
 Whoever examines that very rare and 
 curious book, Lesclarcissement de la langue 
 franqoyse, printed by Johan Haukyns, 1530, 
 (which is the oldest French grammar in our 
 language, and older than any that the 
 French possess in their own,) will find in- 
 dubitable proof that the pronunciation of 
 both nations is greatly altered in the course 
 of the last three hundred years. 
 
 Neither the Spaniards nor Portuguese 
 retain in their speech that strong Khotacism 
 which they denoted by the double rr, and 
 which Camden and Fuller notice as peculiar 
 to the people of Carlton in Leicestershire. 
 Lily has not enumerated it among those 
 isms from which boys are by all means to be 
 deterred ; a most heinous ism, however, it is. 
 A strange uncouth wharliug Fuller called 
 it, and Camden describes it as a harsh and 
 ungrateful manner of speech with a guttural 
 and difficult pronunciation. They were 
 perhaps a colony from Durham or North- 
 umberland in whom the bifrr had become 
 hereditary. 
 
 Is the poetry of the Greeks and Romans 
 
 ever read as they themselves read it ? Have 
 we not altered the very metre of the pen- 
 tameter by our manner of reading it ? Is it 
 not at this day doubtful whether Caesar was 
 called Kaesar, Chaesar, or as we pronounce 
 his name ? And whether Cicero ought not 
 to be called Chichero* or Kikero? Have 
 I not therefore cause to apprehend that 
 there may come a time when the true pro- 
 nunciation of Dove may be lost or doubt- 
 ful? Major Jardine has justly observed 
 that in the great and complicated art of 
 alphabetical writing, which is rendered so 
 easy and familiar by habit, we are not 
 always aware of the limits of its powers. 
 
 " Alphabetical writing," says that always 
 speculative writer," was doubtless awonderful 
 and important discovery. Its greatest merit, 
 I think, was that of distinguishing sounds 
 from articulations, a degree of perfection to 
 which the eastern languages have not yet 
 arrived ; and that defect may be, with those 
 nations, one of the chief causes of their 
 limited progress in many other things. You 
 know they have no vowels, except some that 
 have the a, but always joined to some 
 articulation : their attempt to supply that 
 defect by points give them but very im- 
 perfect and indistinct ideas of vocal and 
 articulate sounds, and of their important 
 distinction. But even languages most al- 
 phabetical, if the expression may be allowed, 
 could not probably transmit by writing a 
 compleat idea of their own sounds and pro- 
 nunciation from any one age or people to 
 another. Sounds are to us infinite and 
 variable, and we cannot transmit by one 
 sense the ideas and objects of another. We 
 shall be convinced of this when we recollect 
 the innumerable qualities of tone in human 
 voices, so as to enable us to distinguish all 
 
 * The well-known verses of Catullus would be against 
 CAicAero, at least. 
 
 Chommoda dicebat, si quando commoda veliet 
 
 Dicere, et hinsidias Arriui insidias : 
 Et turn mirifici sperabat se esse locutum, 
 Cum quantum poterat, dixerat hinsidias, S;c. 
 
 CARM. LXXXIV. 
 
 The h appears to havs been an old Shibboleth, and not 
 restricted either to Shropshire or Warwickshire. Mr. 
 Evans' verses will occur to many readers of " The Doc- 
 tor, &c."
 
 604 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 our acquaintances, though the number 
 should amount to many hundreds, or per- 
 haps thousands. With attention we might 
 discover a different quality of tone in every 
 instrument ; for all these there never can be 
 a sufficient number of adequate terms in 
 any written language ; and when that 
 variety comes to be compounded with alike 
 variety of articulations, it becomes infinite 
 to us. The varieties only upon the seven 
 notes in music, varied only as to pitch and 
 modulation throughout the audible scale, 
 combined with those of time, are not yet 
 probably half exhausted by the constant 
 labour of so many ages. So that the idea 
 of Mr. Steel and others, of representing to 
 the eye the tune and time only of the 
 sounds in any language, will probably ever 
 prove inadequate to the end proposed, even 
 without attempting the kinds and qualities 
 of tones and articulations which would 
 render it infinite and quite impossible." 
 
 Lowth asserts that " the true pronuncia- 
 tion of Hebrew is lost, lost to a degree 
 far beyond what can ever be the case of any 
 European language preserved only in writ- 
 ing ; for the Hebrew language, like most of 
 the other Oriental languages, expressing 
 only the consonants, and being destitute of 
 its vowels, has lain now for two thousand 
 years in a manner mute and incapable of 
 utterance, the number of syllables is in a 
 great many words uncertain, the quantity 
 and accent wholly unknown." 
 
 In the pronouncing Dictionary of John 
 Walker, (that great benefactor to all ladies 
 employed in the task of education,) the word 
 is written Duv, with a figure of 2 over the 
 vowel, designating that what he calls the 
 short simple is intended, as in the English 
 tub, cup, sup, and the French veuf, neuf. 
 How Sheridan gives it, or how it would 
 have been, as Mr. Southey would say, 
 uglyographised by Elphinstone and the other 
 whimsical persons who have laboured so 
 disinterestedly in the vain attempt of re- 
 gulating our spelling by our pronunciation, 
 I know not, for none of their books are at 
 hand. My public will forgive me that I 
 have not taken the trouble to procure them. 
 
 It has not been neglected from idleness, nor 
 for the sake of sparing myself any pains 
 which ought to have been taken. Would I 
 spare any pains in the service of my Public ! 
 
 I have not sought for those books because 
 their authority would have added nothing 
 to Walker's : nor if they had differed from 
 him, would any additional assistance have 
 been obtained. They are in fact all equally 
 inefficient for the object here required, 
 which is so to describe and fix the true pro- 
 nunciation of a particular word, that there 
 shall be no danger of it ever being mistaken, 
 and that when this book shall be as old as 
 the Iliad, there may be no dispute con- 
 cerning the name of its principal personage, 
 though more places should vie with each 
 other for the honour of having given birth 
 to Urgand the Unknown, than contended 
 for the birth of Homer. Now that cannot 
 be done by literal notation. If you think it 
 may, " I beseech you, Sir, paint me a voice ! 
 Make a sound visible if you can ! Teach 
 mine ears to see, and mine eyes to hear ! " 
 
 The prosody of the ancients enables us to 
 ascertain whether a syllable be long or short. 
 Our language is so much more flexible in 
 verse that our poetry will not enable the 
 people of the third and fourth millenniums 
 even to do this, without a very laborious 
 collation, which would after all in many in- 
 stances leave the point doubtful. Nor will 
 rhyme decide the question ; for to a foreigner 
 who understands English only by book (and 
 the people of the third and fourth millen- 
 niums may be in this state) Dove and 
 Glove, Rove and Grove, Move and Prove, 
 must all appear legitimate and inter- 
 changeable rhymes. 
 
 I must therefore have given up the matter 
 in despair had it not been for a most for- 
 tunate and felicitous circumstance. There 
 is one word in the English language which, 
 happen what may, will never be out of use, 
 and of which the true pronunciation, like 
 the true meaning, is sure to pass down 
 uninterruptedly and unaltered from genera- 
 tion to generation. That word, that one 
 and only word which must remain immutable 
 wherever English is spoken, whatever other
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 605 
 
 mutations the speech may undergo, till the 
 language itself be lost in the wreck of all 
 things, that word (Youths and Maidens 
 ye anticipate it now !) that one and only 
 word 
 
 TtSl ,ti; OilXiTI ffTOfJMTO; It JTi/XoUf 
 
 Kafir!*' * 
 
 that dear delicious monosyllable LOVE, 
 that word is a true and perfect rhyme to the 
 name of our Doctor. 
 
 Speak but one rhyme and I am satisfied ; 
 .... pronounce but Love and Dove.f 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXIV. 
 
 CHARLEMAGNE, CASIMIR THE POET, MAR- 
 GARET DUCHESS OF NEWCASTLE, NOCTUR- 
 NAL REMEMBRANCER. THE DOCTOR NOT 
 AMBITIOUS OF FAME. THE AUTHOR IS 
 INDUCED BT MR. FOSBROOKE AND NORRIS 
 OF BEMERTON TO EJACULATE A HEATHEN 
 PRAYER IN BEHALF OF HIS BRETHREN. 
 
 Tutte le cose ton rose el viole 
 
 CV to dico o cK io dird de la eirtuie. 
 
 FB. SA.NSOVINO. 
 
 IT is recorded of Charlemagne by his secre- 
 tary Eginhart, that he had always pen, ink 
 and parchment beside his pillow, for the 
 purpose of noting down any thoughts 
 which might occur to him during the night : 
 and lest upon waking he should find himself 
 in darkness, a part of the wall, within reach 
 from the bed, was prepared, like the leaf of 
 a tablet, with wax, on which he might 
 indent his memoranda with a style. 
 
 The Jesuit poet Casimir had a black 
 tablet always by his bedside, and a piece of 
 chalk, with which to secure a thought, or a 
 poetical expression that might occur to him, 
 si quid insomnis noctu non infeliciter cogitdbat 
 ne id sibi periret. In like manner it is 
 related of Margaret Duchess of Newcastle 
 that some of her young ladies always slept 
 within call, ready to rise at any hour in the 
 night, and take down her thoughts, lest she 
 should forget them before morning. 
 
 Some threescore years ago a little instru- 
 ment was sold by the name of the Nocturnal 
 
 ECRIPIDES. 
 
 t ROMEO AND JCLIET. 
 
 Remembrancer ; it consisted merely of some 
 leaves of what is called asses-skin, in a 
 leathern case wherein there was one aperture 
 from side to side, by aid of which a straight 
 line could be pencilled in the dark : the leaf 
 might be drawn up and fixed at measured 
 distances, till it was written on from top to 
 bottom. 
 
 Our Doctor, ( now that thou art so well 
 acquainted with him and likest him so 
 cordially, Reader, it would be ungenerous 
 in me to call him mine) our Doctor needed 
 no such contrivances. He used to say that 
 he " laid aside all his cares when he put off 
 his wig, and that never any were to be 
 found under his night-cap." Happy man, 
 from whom this might be believed ! but so 
 even had been the smooth and noiseless 
 tenour of his life that he could say it truly. 
 Anxiety and bereavements had brought to 
 him no sleepless nights, no dreams more 
 distressful than even the realities that 
 produce and blend with them. Neither had 
 worldly cares or ambitious hopes and projects 
 ever disquieted him, and made him misuse 
 in midnight musings the hours which belong 
 to sleep. He had laid up in his mind an 
 inexhaustible store of facts and fancies, and 
 delighted in nothing more than in adding to 
 these intellectual treasures ; but as he 
 gathered knowledge only for its own sake, 
 and for the pleasure of the pursuit, not 
 with any emulous feelings, or aspiring 
 intent 
 
 to be for ever known, 
 And make the years to come his own, 
 
 he never said, with the studious Elder 
 Brother in Fletcher's comedy, 
 
 the children 
 
 Which I will leave to all posterity, 
 Begot and brought up by my painful studies 
 Shall be my living issue. 
 
 And therefore voild un homme qui etait 
 fort savant et fort eloquent, et neanmoins 
 (altering a little the words of Bayle,) 
 il iiest pas connu dans la republique des 
 lettres, et ily aeu une infinite de gens beaucoup 
 mains habile que lui, qui sont cent fois plus 
 conmts ; c'est qu'ils out public des livres, et que 
 la presse ria point roule sur ses productions. 
 n imports extremement aux hommes doctes,
 
 606 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 qui Tie vevlent pas tomber dans Voubli apres 
 leur morl, de s'eriger en auteurs ; sans cela 
 leur nom ne passe guere la premiere genera- 
 tion ; res erat unius CEtatis. Le commun des 
 lecteurs ne prend point garde au nom des 
 savans quits ne connaissent que par le temoig- 
 nage d'autrui; on oublie bientut un homme, 
 lorsque Feloge qrf en font les autres finit par 
 le public n'a rien ou de lui. 
 
 Bayle makes an exception of men who 
 like Peiresc distinguish themselves dunfaqon 
 singuliere. 
 
 "I am not sure," says Sir Egerton 
 Brydges, " that the life of an author is a 
 happy life ; but yet, if the seeds of author- 
 ship be in him, he will not be happy except 
 in the indulgence of this occupation. With- 
 out the culture and free air which these 
 seeds require they will wither and turn to 
 poison." It is no desirable thing, according 
 to this representation, to be born with such 
 a predisposition to the most dangerous of all 
 callings. But still more pitiable is the con- 
 dition of such a person, if Mr. Fosbrooke 
 has described it truly : " the mind of a man 
 of genius," says he, (who beyond all question 
 is a man of genius himself, ) " is always in a 
 state of pregnancy, or parturition ; and its 
 power of bearing offspring is bounded only 
 by supervening disease, or by death." Those 
 who are a degree lower in genius are in a 
 yet worse predicament ; such a sort of man, 
 as Norris of Bemerton describes, who, 
 " although he conceives often, yet by some 
 chance or other he always miscarries, and 
 the issue proves abortive." 
 
 JUNO LuciNA/er opem ! 
 
 This invocation the Doctor never made 
 metaphorically for himself, whatever serious 
 and secret prayers he may have preferred 
 for others, when exercising one branch of 
 his tripartite profession. 
 
 Bernardin de Saint Pierre says in one of 
 his letters, when his Etudes de la Nature 
 were in the press, Je suis a present dans les 
 douleurs de fenfantement, car il n'y a point de 
 mere qui souffre autant en mettant un enfant 
 au monde, et qui craigneplus qu'on ne Tecorche 
 ou qiion ne les creve un ceil, qu'un auteur qui 
 revoit les epreuves de son ouvrage. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXV. 
 
 TWO QUESTIONS GROWING OUT OF THE 
 PRECEDING CHAPTER. 
 
 A Taylor who has no objection to wear motley, may 
 make himself a great coat with half a yard of his own stuff, 
 by eking it out with cabbage from every piece that comes 
 in his way. ROBERT SOUTHEY. 
 
 BUT here two questions arise : 
 
 Ought Dr. Dove, or ought he not, to have 
 been an author ? 
 
 Was he, or was he not, the happier, for 
 not being one ? 
 
 " Not to leave the reader," as Lightfoot 
 says, " in a bivium of irresolutions," I will 
 examine each of these questions, Escriviendo 
 algunos breves reglones, sobre lo mucho que 
 dezir y escrivir se podria en esto ; moviendo 
 me principalmente a ello la grande ignorancia 
 que sobre esta matheria veo manijiestamente 
 entre las gentes de nuestro siglo* 
 
 "I am and have been," says Robert 
 Wilmot " (if there be in me any soundness 
 of judgement,) of this opinion, that whatso- 
 ever is committed to the press is commended 
 to eternity ; and it shall stand a lively 
 witness with our conscience, to our comfort 
 or confusion, in the reckoning of that great 
 day. Advisedly therefore was that proverb 
 used of our elder Philosopher, Manum a 
 Tabula ; withhold thy hand from the paper, 
 and thy papers from the print, or light of 
 the world." 
 
 Robert Wilmot says, I say, using the 
 present tense in setting his words before the 
 reader, because of an author it may truly be 
 said that "being dead he yet speaketh." 
 Obscure as this old author now is, for his 
 name and his existing works are known only 
 to those who love to pore among the tombs 
 and the ruins of literature, yet by those who 
 will always be enough " to make a few," his 
 name will continue to be known, long after 
 many of those bubbles which now glitter as 
 they float upon the stream of popularity are 
 " gone for ever ;" and his remains are safe 
 for the next half millennium, if the globe
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 607 
 
 should last so long without some cataclasm 
 which shall involve its creatures and its 
 works in one common destruction. 
 
 Wilmot is right in saying that whatever is 
 written for the public, is, as regards the 
 individual responsibility of the writer, 
 written for eternity, however brief may be 
 its earthly duration ; an aweful consider- 
 ation for the authors of wicked books, and 
 for those who by becoming instrumental in 
 circulating such books involve themselves 
 in the author's guilt as accessaries after 
 the fact, and thereby bring themselves de- 
 servedly under the same condemnation. 
 
 Looking at the first question in this point 
 of view, it may be answered without hesi- 
 tation, the Doctor was so pure in heart, and 
 consequently so innocent in mind, that there 
 was no moral reason why he ought not to 
 have been an author. He would have 
 written nothing but what, religiously 
 speaking, might have been accounted among 
 his good works, so far as, so speaking, 
 any works may deserve to be called good. 
 
 But the question has two handles, and we 
 must now take it by the other. 
 
 An author, more obscure in the literature 
 of his own country than Wilmot, (unless 
 indeed some Spanish or Italian Haslewood 
 may have disinterred his name,) has ex- 
 pressed an opinion directly the reverse of 
 Wilmot's concerning authorship. Ye who 
 understand the noble language which the 
 Emperor Charles V. ranked above all other 
 living tongues may have the satisfaction of 
 here reading it in the original. 
 
 Mnchos son los que del loalle y fructuoso 
 trabajo de escrevir, rehuir suelen ; unos por 
 no saber, a los quales su ignorancia en ulguna 
 manera escusa; otros por negligencia, que 
 teniendo habilidad y disposicion par ello no lo 
 hazen ; y a estos es menester que Dios los 
 perdone en lo pasfado, y emiencle en lo por 
 venir ; otros dexan de hazello por ternor de los 
 detractor es y que mal acostumbran dezir ; los 
 quales a mi parecer de toda reprehension son 
 dignos, pues siendo el acto en si virtuoso, 
 dexan de usarlo por temor. Mayormente 
 que todos, o los mas que este exercicio 
 usan, o con buen ingenio escriven, o con 
 
 buen desseo querrian escrevir. Si con buen 
 ingenio hazen buena obra, cierto es que dese 
 ser alabada. Y se el defecto de mas no 
 alcanzar algo, la haze diminuta de lo que 
 mejor pudiera ser, deve se loar lo que el tal 
 quisiera hazer, si mas supiera, o la invencion 
 y fantasia de la obra, por que fue, o porque 
 desseo ser bueno. De manere que es mucho 
 mejor escrevir como quiera que sepueda hazer, 
 que no por algun temor dexar de hazerlo. * 
 
 "Many," says this author, "are they who 
 are wont to eschew the meritorious and 
 fruitful labour of writing, some for want 
 of knowledge, whom their ignorance in some 
 manner excuses ; others for negligence, who 
 having ability and fitness for this neverthe- 
 less do it not, and need there is for them, 
 that God should forgive them for the past, 
 and amend them for the time to come ; 
 others forbear writing, for fear of detractors 
 and of those who accustom themselves to 
 speak ill ; and these in my opinion are worthy 
 of all reprehension, because the act being 
 in itself so virtuous they are withheld by 
 fear from performing it. Moreover it is to 
 be considered that all, or most of those who 
 practise this art, either write with a good 
 genius, or a good desire of writing well. If 
 having a good genius they produce a good 
 work, certes that work deserves to be com- 
 mended. And if for want of genius it falls 
 short of this, and of what it might better 
 have been, still he ought to be praised, who 
 would have made his work praiseworthy if 
 he had been able, and the invention and 
 fancy of the work, either because it is or 
 because he wished it to be so. So that it is 
 much better for a man to write whatever 
 his ability may be, than to be withheld from 
 the attempt by fear." 
 
 A very different opinion was expressed 
 by one of the most learned of men, Ego 
 multos studiosos quotidie video, paucos doctos ; 
 in doctis paucos ingeniosos ; in semidoctis 
 nullos bonos; atque adeo liter ce generis humani 
 unicum solamen, jam pestis et perniciei max- 
 imce loco smit.1[ 
 
 M. Cornet used to say, Que pourfaire de* 
 
 * QUESTION DE AMOR. PBOLOGO. 
 
 SCAUGER.
 
 608 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 livres, U faloit etre on bicn fou ou bien sage, 
 que pour lui, comme il ne se cro'ioit pas assez 
 sage pour faire un bon livre, ni assez fou 
 pour en faire un mechant, il avoit pris le 
 parti de ne point ecrire. 
 
 Pour lui, the Docteur of the Sorbonne : 
 pour moi, every reader will, in the ex- 
 ercise of that sovereign judgment whereof 
 every reader is possessed, determine for 
 himself whether in composing the present 
 work I am to be deemed bien sage or bien 
 fou. I know what Mr. Dulman thinks upon 
 this point, and that Mr. Slapdash agrees 
 with him. To the former I shall say 
 nothing ; but to the latter, and to Slender- 
 wit, Midge, Wasp, Dandeprat, Brisk and 
 Blueman, I shall let Cordara the Jesuit 
 speak for me. 
 
 O quanli, o quanti sono, a cui displace 
 Vedere un uom contenlo ; sol per questo 
 Lo pungono con stile acre e mordace. 
 
 Per questi versi miei chi sa che presto 
 Qualche xanxaru ronlro me non s'armi, 
 E non prentla ill qui qualche prelesto. 
 
 Jo certo me V aspetto, che ollraggiarmi 
 Talun pretendcrft sol perche pare, 
 Che di licti pensier' sappia occuparmi. 
 
 Ma canti pur, lo lascerb cantare 
 E per mostrargli quanta me ne prendo, 
 Tornerd, se bisogna, a verseggiare. 
 
 Leaving the aforesaid litterateurs to con- 
 strue and apply this, I shall proceed in due 
 course to examine and decide whether Dr. 
 Daniel Dove ought or ought not to have 
 been an author, being the first of two 
 questions, propounded in the present 
 chapter, as arising out of the last. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXVI. 
 
 THE AUTHOR DIGRESSES A LITTLE, AND TAKES 
 UP A STITCH WHICH WAS DROPPED IN THE 
 EARLIER PART OF THIS OPUS. NOTICES 
 CONCERNING LITERARY AND DRAMATIC 
 HISTORY, BUT PERTINENT TO THIS PART 
 OF OUR SUBJECT. 
 
 Jam paululum digrcssus a spectantibus, 
 Doctii loquar, qui non adeo spec/are quam 
 Audire gestiunt, logosque ponderant, 
 Examinant, dijudicanlque pro suo 
 Candore vel livore ; non latum tamen 
 Culmum (quod aiunt) dum loquar sapienlibus 
 Loco movebor. MACROPEDICS. 
 
 THE boy and his schoolmaster were not 
 mistaken in thinking that some of Textor's 
 
 Moralities would have delighted the people 
 of Ingleton as much as any of Rowland 
 Dixon's stock pieces. Such dramas have 
 been popular wherever they have been pre- 
 sented in the vernacular tongue. The pro- 
 gress from them to the regular drama was 
 slow, perhaps not so much on account of 
 the then rude state of most modern lan- 
 guages, as because of the yet ruder taste of 
 the people. I know not whether it has been 
 observed in literary history how much more 
 rapid it was in schools, where the Latin lan- 
 guage was used, and consequently fit au- 
 dience was found, though few. 
 
 George von Langeveldt, or Macropedius, 
 as he called himself, according to the 
 fashion of learned men in that age, was con- 
 temporary with Textor, and like him one of 
 the pioneers of literature, but he was a 
 person of more learning and greater in- 
 tellectual powers. He was born about the 
 year 1475, of a good family in the little 
 town or village of Gemert, at no great 
 distance from Bois-le-Duc. As soon as his 
 juvenile studies were compleated he entered 
 among the Fratres Vitce Communis ; they 
 employed him in education, first as Rector 
 in their college at Bois-le-duc, then at 
 Liege, and afterwards at Utrecht, from 
 whence in 1552, being infirm and grievously 
 afflicted with gout, he returned to Bois-le- 
 duc, there to pass the remainder of his days, 
 as one whose work was done. Old and 
 enfeebled, however, as he was, he lived till 
 the year 1558, and then died not of old age 
 but of a pestilential fever. 
 
 There is an engraved portrait of him in 
 the hideous hood and habit of his order ; 
 the countenance is that of a good-natured, 
 intelligent, merry old man : underneath are 
 these verses by Sanderus the topographer. 
 
 Tu Seneca, et noftri poles esse Terentius CEVI, 
 Seu strut's adfaciles viva theatra pedes, 
 
 Seu ploras tragicas, Macropedi, carmine cladcs, 
 Jilateriam sanctis adsimilante modii. 
 
 Desinejam J.atios mirari Roma cothurnos ; 
 Nescio quid majtis Eelgica tcena dabit. 
 
 Macropedius published Rudiments both 
 of the Greek and Latin languages ; he had 
 studied the Hebrew and Chaldee ; had some 
 skill in mathematics, and amused his leisure
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 609 
 
 in making mathematical instruments, a 
 branch of art in which he is said to have 
 been an excellent workman. Most of the 
 men who distinguished themselves as scholars 
 in that part of the Low Countries, toward 
 the latter part of the 16th century, had 
 been his pupils : for he was not more re- 
 markable for his own acquirements than 
 for the earnest delight which he took in 
 instructing others. There is some reason 
 for thinking that he was a severe disci- 
 plinarian, perhaps a cruel one. Herein 
 he differed widely from Textor, who took 
 every opportunity for expressing his ab- 
 horrence of magisterial cruelty. In one of 
 these Dialogues with which Guy and young 
 Daniel were so well acquainted, two school- 
 masters after death are brought before 
 llhadamanthus for judgment; one for his 
 inhumanity is sent to be tormented in Tar- 
 tarus, part of his punishment, in addition to 
 those more peculiarly belonging to the re- 
 gion, being that 
 
 Verbera q\ue pueris intulft, ipseferat : 
 the other who indulged his boys and never 
 maltreated them is ordered to Elysium, the 
 Judge saying to him 
 
 tua te in pucros dementia salvum 
 Jteddil, et cEternis per simile m superit. 
 
 That Textor's description of the cruelty 
 exercised by the pedagogues of his age was 
 not overcharged, Macropedius himself might 
 be quoted to prove, even when he is vindi- 
 cating and recommending such discipline as 
 Dr. Parr would have done. I wish Parr 
 had heard an expression which fell from the 
 honest lips of Isaac Reid, when a school, 
 noted at that time for its consumption of 
 birch, was the subject of conversation ; the 
 words would have burned themselves in. I 
 must not commit them to the press ; but this 
 I may say, that the Recording Angel en- 
 tered them on the creditor side of that kind- 
 hearted old man's account. 
 
 Macropedius, like Textor, composed dra- 
 matic pieces for his pupils to represent. The 
 latter, as has been shown in a former chap- 
 ter, though he did not exactly take the 
 Moralities for his model, produced pieces of 
 the same kind, and adapted his conceptions 
 
 to the popular facts, while he clothed them 
 in the language of the classics. His aim at 
 improvement proceeded no farther, and he 
 never attempted to construct a dramatic 
 fable. That advance was made by Macro- 
 pedius, who in one of his dedicatory epistles 
 laments that among the many learned men 
 who were then nourishing, no Menander, no 
 Terence was to be found; their species of 
 writing, he says, had been almost extinct 
 since the time of Terence himself, or at 
 least of Lucilius. He regretted this be- 
 cause comedy might be rendered useful to 
 persons of all ages, quid enim plus pueris ad 
 eruditionem, plus adolescentibus ad honesta 
 studia, plus provectioribus, immb omnibus in 
 commune ad virlutem conducat ? 
 
 Reuchlin, or Capnio, (as he who was one 
 of the lights of his generation was misnamed 
 and misnamed himself,) who had with his 
 other great and eminent merits that of re- 
 storing or rather introducing into Germany 
 the study of Hebrew, revived the lost art of 
 comedy. If any one had preceded him in 
 this revival, Macropedius was ignorant of it ; 
 and by the example and advice of this great 
 man he was induced to follow him, not only 
 as a student of Hebrew, but as a comic 
 writer. Hrosvitha indeed, a nun of Gan- 
 dersheim in Saxony, who lived in the tenth 
 century and in the reign of Otho II., com- 
 posed six Latin comedies in emulation of 
 Terence, but in praise of virginity ; and 
 these with other of her poems were printed 
 at Nuremburg in the year 1501. The book 
 I have never seen, nor had De Bure, nor 
 had he been able (such is its rarity) to pro- 
 cure any account of it farther than enabled 
 him to give its title. The name of Conrad 
 Celtes, the first German upon whom the 
 degree of Poet Laureate was conferred, 
 appears in the title, as if he had discovered 
 the manuscript; Conrado Celte inventore. 
 De Bure says the volume was attribue au 
 meme Conradus Celtes. It is rash for any 
 one to form an opinion of a book which he 
 has never examined, unless he is well ac- 
 quainted with the character and capacity of 
 its author ; nevertheless I may venture to 
 observe that nothing can be less in unison
 
 610 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 with the life and conversation of this Latin 
 poet, as far as these maybe judged of by his 
 acknowledged poems, than the subjects of 
 the pieces published under Hrosvitha's 
 name ; and no reason can be imagined why, 
 if he had written them himself, he should 
 have palmed them upon the public as her 
 composition. 
 
 It is remarkable that Macropedius, when 
 he spoke of Reuchlin's comedies, should not 
 have alluded to these, for that he must have 
 seen them there can be little or no doubt. 
 One of Reuchlin's is said to have been 
 imitated from la Farce de Pathelin, which, 
 under the title of the Village Lawyer, has 
 succeeded on our own stage, and which was 
 so deservedly popular that the French have 
 drawn from it more than one proverbial 
 saying. The French Editor who affirms 
 this says that Pathelin was printed in 1474, 
 four years before the representation of 
 Reuchlin's comedy ; but the story is one of 
 those good travellers which are found in all 
 countries, and Reuchlin may have drama- 
 tised it without any reference to the French 
 drama, the existence of which may very 
 probably have been unknown to him, as 
 well as to Macropedius. Both his pieces are 
 satirical. His disciple began with a scrip- 
 tural drama upon the Prodigal Son ; Asotus 
 is its title. It must have been written early 
 in the century, for about 1520 he laid it 
 aside as a juvenile performance, and faulty 
 as much because of the then comparatively 
 rude state of learning, as of his own inex- 
 perience. 
 
 Scripsiolim adolescent, trimetrii versibtm, 
 Et tetrametris, ea phrasi etfacundid 
 date turn per adolesce ntiam et mala tempora 
 Licebat, evangelicum Asotum out Prodigum 
 Ornnis quidem met labor is initium. 
 
 After it had lain among his papers for 
 thirty years, he brought it to light, and 
 published it. In the prologue he intreats 
 the spectators not to be offended that he 
 had put his sickle into the field of the 
 Gospel, and exhorts them, while they are 
 amused with the comic parts of the dialogue, 
 still to bear in mind the meaning of the 
 parable. 
 
 Sed oral author carminis voi res duns : 
 Ne tEgreferatis, quod levemfalcem tulit 
 
 Semen/em in cvartgeticam, eamqite quodattdeat 
 Tractare mnjestatem lambo et Tribracho ; 
 Keve insuper nimis h&reatis ludicris 
 Ludisque comicis, scd animum advortite 
 Hie abdito mysterio, quod eruam. 
 
 After these lines he proceeds succinctly to 
 expound the parable. 
 
 Although the grossest representations 
 were not merely tolerated at that time in 
 the Miracle Plays, and Mysteries, but per- 
 formed with the sanction and with the assis- 
 tance of the clergy, it appears that objec- 
 tions were raised against the sacred dramas 
 of this author. They were composed for a 
 learned audience, which is indeed the 
 reason why the Latin, or as it may more 
 properly be called the Collegiate drama, 
 appeared at first in a regular and respectable 
 form, and received little or no subsequent 
 improvement. The only excuse which could 
 be offered for the popular exhibitions of this 
 kind, was that they were, if not necessary, 
 yet greatly useful, by exciting and keeping 
 up the lively faith of an ignorant, but all- 
 believing people. That apology failed 
 where no such use was needed. But Ma- 
 cropedius easily vindicated himself from 
 charges which in truth were not relevant to 
 his case ; for he perceived what scriptural 
 subjects might without impropriety be re- 
 presented as he treated them, and he care- 
 fully distinguished them from those upon 
 which no fiction could be engrafted without 
 apparent profanation. In the prologue to 
 his Lazarus he makes this distinction be- 
 tween the Lazarus of the parable, and the 
 Lazarus of the Gospel History : the former 
 might be thus treated for edification, the 
 latter was too sacred a theme, 
 
 quod is sine 
 Filii Dei persona agi nun possiet. 
 
 Upon this distinction he defends himself, 
 and carefully declares what were the bounds 
 which ought not to be overpassed. 
 
 Fortassii objectabit illi quispiam 
 Quod audeat sacerrimam rent, rt serio 
 Vostrie saluti a Christo Jesu proditam 
 Tractare cornice, et/acere rein ludicram. 
 Fatetur ingenue, qr/od eadem ratio se 
 Scepenumero delerruit. ne quid suum, 
 Vel ab aliis quantumlibet scriplutn, pie 
 Doctfve, quod personam haberet Chriili Jeiu 
 Agentis, histrionibus seu ludiis 
 Populo ezhibendum ex pulpito committeret.
 
 THE DOCTOR, 
 
 611 
 
 From tliis passage I am induced to suspect 
 that the Jesus Scholasticus, and the tragedy 
 De Passione Christi, which are named in 
 the list of his works, have been erroneously 
 ascribed to him. No date of time or place 
 is affixed to either by the biographers. 
 After his judicious declaration concerning 
 such subjects it cannot be thought he would 
 have written these tragedies ; nor that if he 
 had written them before he seriously con- 
 sidered the question of their propriety, he 
 would afterwards have allowed them to 
 appear. It is more probable that they were 
 published without an author's name, and 
 ascribed to him, because of his reputation. 
 No inference can be drawn from their not 
 appearing in the two volumes of his plays ; 
 because that collection is entitled Omnes 
 Georgii Macropedii Fabulce COMIC^E, and 
 though it contains pieces which are deeply 
 serious, that title would certainly preclude 
 the insertion of a tragedy. But a piece 
 upon the story of Susanna which the biogra- 
 phers have also ascribed to him is not in the 
 collection * ; the book was printed after his 
 retirement to Bois-le-duc, when from his 
 age and infirmities he was most unlikely to 
 have composed it, and therefore I conclude 
 that, like the tragedies, it is not his work. 
 
 Macropedius was careful to guard against 
 anything which might give offence, and 
 therefore he apologises for speaking of the 
 fable of his Nama : 
 
 Mirabilur fortasse vestrum quispiam, 
 Quod fabulam rem sacrosanctam dixerim. 
 Verum sibi is persuasum habebit, omne quod 
 Tragico artificio comicove scribitur. 
 Did poetis fabulam , qnod utique rum 
 Tani hisloria vert texitur, qnod proprium est, 
 Quam imago verifingitur, quad artis est. 
 Nam comicus non propria personii sold, 
 Sed apta tribuere atque verisimilia, ut 
 dute pro loco vel tempore potuere agi 
 Vcl dicier. 
 
 For a very different reason he withdrew 
 from one of these dramas certain passages, 
 by the advice of his friends ; he says, qui rem 
 seriam fdlndosius tractandum dissuaserunt. 
 These it seems related to the first chapter of 
 St. Luke, but contained circumstances 
 derived not from that Gospel, but from the 
 
 This must be a comic drama. R. S. 
 
 legends engrafted upon it, and therefore 
 he rejects them as citra scriptures authori- 
 tatem. 
 
 From the scrupulousness with which Ma- 
 cropedius in this instance distinguishes be- 
 tween the facts of the Gospel history and 
 the fables of man's invention, it may be 
 suspected that he was not averse at heart to 
 those hopes of a reformation in the church 
 which were at that time entertained. This 
 is still further indicated in the drama called 
 Hecastus ("EKauroe Every one,) in which 
 he represents a sinner as saved by faith in 
 Christ and repentance. He found it neces- 
 sary to protest against the suspicion which 
 he had thus incurred, and to declare that he 
 held works of repentance and the sacra- 
 ments appointed by the Church necessary 
 for salvation.f 
 
 Hecastus is a rich man, given over to the 
 pomps and vanities of the world, and Epi- 
 curia his wife is of the same disposition. 
 They have prepared a great feast, when 
 Nomodidascalus arrives with a summons for 
 him to appear before the Great King for 
 judgement. Hecastus calls upon his son 
 Philomathes, who is learned in the law, for 
 counsel; the son is horror-stricken, and con- 
 fesses his ignorance of the language in which 
 the summons is written : 
 
 Horror, pater, me invadit, anxietas quoque 
 Non mcdiocris ; nam elementa quanquam barbara 
 Mir am Dei potentiam prte seferunt, 
 Humaniorcs literas scio ; barbarca 
 Keque legere, neque intelligere, pater, queo. 
 
 The father is incensed that a son who had 
 been bred to the law for the purpose of 
 
 t Hecastus was represented by the schoolboys in 1538, 
 non sine mag.no spcctantium plansu. It was printed in 
 the ensuing year; and upon reprinting it, in 1550, the 
 author offers his apology. He says, Fuere multi quibut 
 (fabubc tcopo recte considerate) peromnia placuit ; fuere 
 quibus in ea nonnttlla ojffendertint ; fuere quoque, quibus 
 omnino displicuit, ob hoc prtecipue, quod erroribvs qui- 
 butdam notlri temporis connivere et suffragari eideretur. 
 Inprimis illi, quod citrapcenilenticE opera (satisfactionem 
 dicimus) et ecclesice sacramenta, per solam in Christum 
 fidem et cordis contritionem, condonationem criminum 
 \ docere, vel asserere videretur : et quod quisque certo se 
 j fore fervendum credere teneretur : Id quod nequaquam 
 nee mente concept, nee unquam docere volui, licet ?i- 
 butdam fortassii fabulte scopum non exacts consirteran- 
 tibui, primd (quod aiunt) fronte sic vide ri potuerit. Si 
 enim rei scopum, quern in argumenlo indicabam, penitus 
 observassent, tecus fortassis judicaturi fuissent B. S. 
 
 R K 2
 
 612 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 pleading his cause at any time should fail 
 him thus ; but Noinodidascalus vindicates 
 the young man, and reads a severe lecture 
 to Hecastus, in which Hebrew words of 
 aweful admonishment Are introduced and 
 interpreted. The guests arrive ; he tells 
 them what has happened, and entreats them 
 to accompany him, and assist him when he 
 appeal's before the Judge ; they plead other 
 engagements, and excuse themselves. He 
 has no better success with his kinsmen ; 
 though they promise to look after his affairs, 
 and say that they will make a point of 
 attending him with due honour as far as the 
 gate. He then calls upon his two sons to 
 go with him unto the unknown country 
 whereto he has been summoned. The elder 
 is willing to fight for his father, but not to 
 enter upon such a journey ; the lawyer does 
 not understand the practice of those courts, 
 and can be of no use to him there ; but he 
 advises his father to take his servants with 
 him, and plenty of money. 
 
 Madam Epicuria, who is not the most 
 affectionate of wives, refuses to accompany 
 him upon this unpleasant expedient, and 
 moreover requests that her maids may be 
 left with her ; let him take his man servants 
 with him, and gold and silver in abundance. 
 The servants bring out his wealth. Plutus, 
 ex area loqiiens, is one of the Dramatis 
 Personse, and the said Plutus, when brought 
 upon the stage in a chest, or strong box, 
 complains that he is shaken to pieces by 
 being thus moved. Hecastus tells him he 
 must go with him to the other world and 
 help him there, which Plutus flatly refuses. 
 If he will not go of his own accord he shall 
 be carried whether he will or no, Hecastus 
 says. Plutus stands stiffly to his refusal. 
 
 Non transferent ; prius quidem 
 Artus et ilia ruperint, quam transfcrant. 
 In morte nemini opitulor usquam gentium, 
 Quin magis ad alienum dominant Iranseo. 
 
 Hecastus on his part is equally firm, and 
 orders his men to fetch some strong poles, 
 and carry off the chest, Plutus and all. 
 Having sent them forward, he takes leave of 
 his family, and Epicuria protests that she 
 remains like a widowed dove, and his 
 
 neighbours promise to accompany him as far 
 as the gate. 
 
 Death comes behind him now : 
 
 Horrenda imago, larva abominabilis, 
 Figura lam execranda, ut alntm cUemona 
 Putetis obvium.* 
 
 This dreadful personage is with much 
 difficulty entreated to allow him the respite 
 of one short hour, after which Death de- 
 clares he will return, and take him, will he 
 or nill he before the Judge, and then to the 
 infernal regions. During this interval who 
 should come up but an old and long- 
 neglected friend of Hecastus, Virtue by 
 name ; a poor emaciated person, in mean 
 attire, in no condition to appear with him 
 before the Judge, and altogether unfit to 
 plead his desperate cause. She promises, 
 however, to send him a Priest to his assist- 
 ance, and says moreover that she will speak 
 to her sister Faith, and endeavour to per- 
 suade her to visit him. 
 
 Meantime the learned son predicts from 
 certain appearances the approaching end of 
 his father. 
 
 Actum Philocrate, de patris salute, uli 
 Plane recenti ez lolio prejudico, 
 Kant cerulea si lend it ad nigrcdinem 
 Urina mortem prozimam denunciat. 
 
 He has been called on, he says, too late, 
 
 Sero meam medentis admisit manum. 
 
 The brothers begin to dispute about their 
 inheritance, and declare law against each 
 other ; but they suspend the dispute when 
 Hieronymus the Priest arrives, that they 
 may look after him lest he should prevail 
 
 * The reader should by all means consult Mr. Sharpe's 
 " Dissertation on the Pageants or Dramatic Mysteries, 
 anciently performed in Coventry." " The Devil," he 
 observes, " was a very favourite and prominent character 
 in our Keligious Mysteries, wherein he was introduced as 
 often as was practicable, and considerable pains taken to 
 furnish him with appropriate habiliments, &c." p. 31. 
 also pp. 57-60. There are several plates of " Hell-Moug/it 
 and Sir Sathanas," which will not escape the examina- 
 tion of the curious. The bloody Herod was a character 
 almost as famous as " Sir Sathanas ;" hence the expres- 
 sion " to out-herod Herod," e.g. in Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. ii. 
 With reference to the same personage Charmian says to 
 the Soothsayer in Antony and Cleopatra, "Let me have 
 a child at fifty, to whom Herod nf Jewry may do homage," 
 Act i. Sc. ii. ; and Mrs. Page asks in the Merry Wives of 
 Windsor, " What Herod of Jewry is this ?" Actii. Sc,
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 613 
 
 upon the dying to dispose of too large a part 
 of his property in charitable purposes. 
 
 Id cautum oportet maxime. Kovimus enim 
 Qua:n turn sibi, turn cteteris quibus favent, 
 Legata iarga extorqueal id Hominum genus, 
 Cum morte ditem terminandum viderint. 
 
 Virtue arrives at this time with his sister 
 Faith ; they follow Hieronymus into the 
 chamber into which Hecastus has been 
 borne ; and as they go in up comes Satan 
 to the door, and takes his seat there to draw 
 up a bill of indictment against the dying 
 man : he must do it carefully, he says, that 
 there may be no flaw in it. 
 
 Causam meam scripturus nbsolutius 
 Adversvm Hecaslum, hie paululum desedero; 
 Ne si quid insit falsitatis maximis 
 Facinoribus, res tota venial in graven 
 Fcedamque controversiam. Abstmete vos, 
 Quotquot theatro adfstis, a petulantid, 
 Nisi si velitis et has cachinnos scribier. 
 
 Then he begins to draw up the indictment, 
 speaking as he writes, 
 
 Primum omnium superbtts est et arrogant, 
 Superbus est et arrogant, et arrogant ; 
 Turn in tedibus, turn in ttdibus ; turn in vestibus, 
 Turn in vestibus. Jam reliqua tacitus scripsero, 
 Loquaculi ne cxaudiant et deferant. 
 
 While Satan is thus employed at the door, 
 the priest Hieronymus within is questioning 
 the patient concerning his religion. Hecastus 
 possesses a very sound and firm historical 
 belief. But this the Priest tells him is not 
 enough, for the Devils themselves believe 
 and tremble, and he will not admit Faith 
 into the chamber till Hecastus be better 
 instructed in the true nature of a saving 
 belief. 
 
 Creiiis quod omnia quue patravit Filiut 
 Dei unicus, tibi redhnendo gesserit t 
 Tibi natus est f tibi vixerit ? tibi mortutu 
 Sit f tibi sepuilus ? et tibi surrcxeritf 
 Mortetnque tibi devicerit f 
 
 Hecastus confesses in reply that he is a 
 most miserable sinner, unworthy of forgive- 
 ness ; and having brought him into this state 
 of penitence the Priest calls Fides in. 
 
 Then says Fides, 
 
 Htfc tria quidem, cognilio netnpe criminii. 
 Horror gehemruc, et pccniteniia, beta sunt 
 I'erie salutis omnium prirnordia, 
 Jam pcrge, ut in Dcum excites fiduciam. 
 
 When this trust has been given him, and he 
 has declared his full belief, he confesses that 
 still he is in fear, 
 
 est quod adhuc parit mihi tcrupulum ; 
 Mors horrida, atque aspectus atri Dirmonis, 
 Queis terribiliiis (inquiunt) nil timiinibus. 
 Post paululum quos adfuturos arbitrus. 
 
 But Hieronymus assures him that Fides 
 and Virtus will defend him from all danger, 
 and under their protection he leaves him. 
 
 The scene is now again at the door : Mors 
 arrives. Satan abuses her for having made 
 him wait so long, and the improba bestia in 
 return reproaches him for his ingratitude 
 and imprudence. However they make up 
 their quarrel. Satan goes into th house 
 expecting to have a long controversy with 
 his intended victim, and Mors amuses herself 
 in the mean time with sharpening her dart. 
 Satan, however, finds that his controversy is 
 not to be with Hecastus himself, but with 
 his two advocates Fides and Virtus; and 
 they plead their cause so provokingly that 
 the old Lawyer tears his bill, and sculks 
 into a corner to see how Mors will come off. 
 
 Now comes his son the Doctor, and prog- 
 nosticates speedy dissolution ex pulsu et 
 atro lotio. And having more professional 
 pride than filial feeling, he would fain 
 persuade the Acolyte, who is about to assist 
 in administering extreme unction, that he 
 has chosen a thankless calling, and would do 
 wisely if he forsook it for more gainful 
 studies. The youth makes a good defence 
 for his choice, and remains master in the 
 argument ; for the Doctor getting sight of 
 Death brandishing the sharpened dart takes 
 fright and runs off. Having put the Doctor 
 to flight, Death enters the sick chamber, 
 and finding Fides there calls in Satan as an 
 ally : their joint force avails nothing against 
 Virtus, Fides, and Hieronymus ; and these 
 dismiss the departing Spirit under a convoy 
 of Angels to Abraham's bosom. 
 
 Three supplementary scenes conclude the 
 two dramas ; in the two first the widow and 
 the sons and kinsmen lament the dead, and 
 declare their intention of putting themselves 
 all in mourning, and giving a funeral worthy 
 of his rank. But Hieronymus reproves
 
 614 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 them for the excess of their grief, and for 
 the manner by which they intended to show 
 their respect for the dead. The elder son is 
 convinced by his discourse, and replies 
 
 Recte mones vir omnium piissime, 
 
 Linquamus omnem hunc apparatum splendidum, 
 
 Linquamus hxcce cuncta in usum paupentm, 
 
 Linquamus omnem luctum inanem et lachrymas ; 
 
 Moresque nostros corrigamus pristinos. 
 
 Si multo amceniora vittE munia, 
 
 Post hanc calamitatem, morantur in fide 
 
 Spe ut charitate mortuos, quid residuum est 
 
 Nisi et hunc diem cum patre agamus mortuo 
 
 Ltelissimum f non in cibis et poculis 
 
 Gravioribus, nalura quam poposcerit ; 
 
 Nee tympanis et organis, sed maximas 
 
 Deo exhibendu gratias. Viro pio 
 
 Congaudeamus intimis ajfeclibus ; 
 
 Et absque pompa inutili exequias pica 
 
 Patri paremus mortuo. 
 
 The Steward then concludes the drama by 
 dismissing the audience in these lines : 
 
 Vos qui advolastis impigri ad 
 Nostra hcec theatra, turn viri, tumfceminte, 
 Adite nunc vestras domos sine rcmord. 
 Nam Hecastus hie quern Morte ccesum exhibuimus, 
 Non ante tertium diem tumulandus eft, 
 Valete cuncti, et, si placuimus, plaudite. 
 
 We have in our own language a dramatic 
 piece upon the same subject, and of the 
 same age. It was published early in Henry 
 the Eighth's reign, and is well known to 
 English philologists by the name of Every 
 Man. The title page says, " Here be- 
 gynneth a treatyse how the hye Fader of 
 Heven sendeth Dethe to somon every crea- 
 ture to come and gyve a counte of theyr 
 lyves in this worlde, and is in maner of a 
 moralle Playe." 
 
 The subject is briefly stated in a prologue 
 by a person in the character of a Messenger, 
 who exhorts the spectators to hear with re- 
 verence. 
 
 This mater is wonders precyous ; 
 But the extent of it is more gracyous, 
 
 And swete to here awaye. 
 The story sayth, Man, in the begynnynge 
 Loke well and take good heed to the endynge, 
 
 Be you never so gay. 
 
 God (the Son) speaketh at the opening of 
 the piece, and saying that the more He 
 forbears the worse the people be from year 
 to year, declares his intention to have a 
 reckoning in all haste of every man's person, 
 and do justice on every man living. 
 
 Where art thou, Deth, thou mighty messengere ? 
 
 DETHE. 
 
 Almighty God, I am here at your wyll 
 Your commaundement to fulfyll. 
 
 GOD. 
 
 Go thou to Every-man 
 And shewe hym in my name, 
 A pylgrymage he must on hym take, 
 Whiche he in no wyse may escape : 
 And that he brynge with him a sure rekenynge, 
 Without delay or ony taryenge. 
 
 DETHE. 
 
 L,orde, I wyll in the world go renne over all 
 And cruelly out serche bothe grete and small. 
 
 The first person whom Death meets is 
 Every-man himself, and he summons him in 
 God's name to take forthwith a long journey, 
 and bring with him his book of accounts. 
 Every-man offers a thousand pounds to be 
 spared, and says that if he may but have 
 twelve years allowed him, he will make his 
 accounts so clear that he shall have no need 
 to fear the reckoning. Not even till to- 
 morrow is granted him. He then asks if he 
 may not have some of his acquaintances to 
 accompany him on the way, and is told yes, 
 if he can get them. The first to whom he 
 applies is his old boon-companion Fellow- 
 ship, who promises to go with him anywhere, 
 till he hears what the journey is on which 
 Every-man is summoned : he then declares 
 that he would eat, drink and drab with him, 
 or lend him a hand to kill anybody, but 
 upon such a business as this he will not stir 
 a foot ; and with that bidding him God 
 speed, he depai'ts as fast as he can. 
 
 Alack, exclaims Every-man, when thus 
 deserted, 
 
 Felawship herebefore with me wolde mery make, 
 
 And now lytell sorowe for roe dooth he take. 
 
 Now wheder for socoure shall I flee 
 
 Syth that Felawship hath forsaken me ? 
 
 To my kynnesmen I wyll truely, 
 
 Prayenge them to helpe me in my necessyte. 
 
 I byleve that they wyll do so ; 
 
 For kynde wyll crepe where it may not go. 
 
 But one and all make their excuses ; they 
 have reckonings of their own which are not 
 ready, and they cannot and will not go with 
 him. Thus again disappointed he breaks 
 out in more lamentations ; and then catches 
 at another fallacious hope. 
 
 Yet in my mynde a thynge there is ; 
 All my lyfe I have loved Ryches ;
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 615 
 
 If that my good now hclpe me myght 
 He wolde make me herte full iyglit. 
 1 wyll speke to hym in this distresse, 
 Where art thou, my Goodes, and Ryches ? 
 
 GOODES. 
 
 Who calletli me ? K very -man ? What hast thou haste ? 
 I lye here in corners, trussed and pyled so hye, 
 And in chestes I am locked so fast, 
 Also sacked in bagges, thou mayst se with thyn eye 
 I cannot styrre ; in packes low I lye. 
 What wolde ye have ? lightly me saye 
 Syr, an ye in the worlde have sorowe or adversyte 
 That can I helpe you to remedy shortly. 
 
 EVERY-MAX. 
 
 In this world it is not, 1 tell thee so, 
 
 I am sent for an other way to go, 
 
 To gyve a strayte counte generall 
 
 Before the hyest Jupiter of all : 
 
 And all my life I have had joye and pleasure in the, 
 
 Therefore, I pray the, go witii me : 
 
 For paraventure, thou mayst before God Almighty 
 
 My rekenynge helpe to clene and puryfye ; 
 
 For it is said ever amonge 
 
 That money maketh all ryght that is wrong. 
 
 GOODES. 
 
 Nay, Every-man, I synge an other songe ; 
 I folowe no man in such vyages. 
 For an I wente with the, 
 Thou sholdes fare moche the worse for me. 
 
 Goodes then exults in having beguiled 
 him, laughs at his situation, and leaves him. 
 Of whom shall he take counsel ? He be- 
 thinks him of Good Dedes. 
 
 But alas she is so weke 
 That she can noiher go nor speke. 
 Vet wyll I venter on her now 
 My Good Dedes, where be you ? 
 
 GOOD DEDES. 
 
 Here I lye colde on the grounde, 
 Thy simies hath me sore bounde 
 That I cannot stere. 
 
 EVERY-MAN. 
 I pray you that ye wyll go with me. 
 
 GOOD DEDES. 
 I wolde full fayne, but I can not stand veryly. 
 
 EVERY-MAN. 
 Why, is there any ttiynge on you fall ? 
 
 GOOD DEDES. 
 
 Ye, Sir ; I may thanke you of all. 
 If ye had parfytely sheved me, 
 Your boke of counte full redy had be. 
 Loke, the bokes of your workes and dedes eke, 
 A ! se how they lye under the fete, 
 To your soules hevynes. 
 
 EVERY-MAN. 
 
 Our Lorde Jesus helpe me, 
 For one letter here I cannot se ! 
 
 GOOD DEDES. 
 There is a blynde rekenynge in tyme of dystres ! 
 
 EVERY-MAN. 
 
 Good-Dedes, I pray you, helpe me in this nede, 
 Or elles 1 am for ever dampned in dede. 
 
 Good Dedes calls in Knowledge to help 
 him to make his reckoning ; and Knowledge 
 
 takes him lovingly to that holy man Con- 
 fession ; and Confession gives him a precious 
 jewel called Penance, in the form of a 
 scourge. 
 
 When with the scourge of Penance man doth hym bynde, 
 The oyl of forgyvenes than shall he fynde, 
 Now may you make your rekenynge sure. 
 
 EVEKY-MAN. 
 
 In the name of the holy Trynyte, 
 My body sore punyshed shall be. 
 Take this, Body, for the synne of the flesshe ! 
 Also thou delytest to go gay and fresshe, 
 And in the way of dampnacyon thou dyd me brynge, 
 Therefore suffre now strokes of punysshynge. 
 Now of penaunce I wyll wede the water clere 
 To save me from Purgatory, that sharpe fyre. 
 
 GOOD DEDES. 
 
 I thanke God, now I can walke and go ; 
 And am delyvered of my sykenesse and wo, 
 Therfore with Every-man I wyll go and not spare ; 
 His good workes I wyll helpe hym to declare. 
 
 KNOWLEGE. 
 
 Now Every-man, be mery and glad, 
 Your Good Dedes cometh now, ye may not be sad. 
 Now is your Good Dedes hole and sounde, 
 Goynge upryght upon the grounde. 
 
 EVERY-MAN. 
 
 My herte is lyght, and shall be evermore, 
 Nor wyll I smyte faster than I dyde before. 
 
 Knowledge then makes him put on the 
 garment of sorrow called contrition, and 
 makes him call for his friends Discretion, 
 Strength, and Beauty, to help him on his 
 pilgrimage, and his Five Wits to counsel 
 him. They come at his call, and promise 
 faithfully to help him. 
 
 STRENGTH. 
 
 I Strength wyll by you stande in dystres, 
 Though thou wolde in batayle fyght on the grownde. 
 
 FYVB-WYTTES. 
 
 And thought it were thrugh the world rounde, 
 We wyll not depart for swete ne soure. 
 
 BEAUTE. 
 
 No more wyll I unto dethes howre, 
 Watsoever therof befall. 
 
 He makes his testament, and gives half 
 his goods in charity. Discretion and Know- 
 ledge send him to receive the holy sacrament 
 and extreme unction, and Five- Wits expa- 
 tiates upon the authority of the Priesthood. 
 To the Priest he says, 
 
 God hath more power given 
 Than' to ony Aungell that is in Heven, 
 With five wordes he may consecrate 
 Goddes body in flesshe and blode to make, 
 And handeleth his maker bytwene his handes. 
 The preest byndeth and unbyndeth all bandes 
 Both in erthe and in heven 
 No remedy we fynde under God 
 But alLonely preesthode.
 
 616 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 God gave Freest that dygnyte, 
 
 And setteth them in his stede among us to be: 
 
 Thus they be above Aungelles iu degree. 
 
 Having received his viaticum Every-man 
 sets out upon this mortal journey : his com- 
 rades renew their protestations of remaining 
 with him ; till when he grows faint on the 
 way, and his limbs fail, they fail him also. 
 
 EVERY-MAN. 
 
 into this cave must I crepe, 
 And tourne to erth, and there to slepe. 
 
 What, says Beauty ; into this Grave ? 
 
 adewe by saynt Johan, 
 I take my tappe in my lappe and am gone. 
 
 Strength in like manner forsakes him ; 
 and Discretion says that " when Strength 
 goeth before, he follows after ever more." 
 And Fyve-Wyttes, whom he took for his 
 best friend, bid him, " farewell and then an 
 
 end." 
 
 EVERY-MAN. 
 
 Jesu, helpe ! all hath forsaken me ! 
 
 GOOD DEDES. 
 Nay, Every-man, 1 wyll byde with the, 
 
 1 wyll not forsake the in dede ; 
 
 Thou shall fynde me a good frende at nede. 
 
 Knowledge also abides him till the last ; 
 the song of the Angel who receives his 
 spirit is heard, and a Doctour concludes the 
 piece with an application to the audience. 
 
 This morall men may have in mynde, 
 
 forsake Pryde for he deceyveth you in the ende. 
 
 And remembre Beaute, Fyve-Wyttes, Strength and Dys- 
 
 crecyon, 
 
 They all at the last do Every-man forsake, 
 Save his Good Dedes, these doth he take : 
 But be ware, an they be. small, 
 Before God he hath no helpe at all ! * 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXVII. 
 
 SYSTEM OF PROGRESSION MAKRED ONLY BY 
 MAN'S INTERFERENCE. THE DOCTOR 
 
 SPEAKS SERIOUSLY AND HUMANELY, AND 
 QUOTES JUVENAL. 
 
 MONTENEGRO. How now, are thy arrows feathered ? 
 
 VKLASCO. Well enough for roving. 
 
 MONTENEGRO. Shoot home then. SHIRLEY. 
 
 IT is only when Man interferes, that the 
 system of progression, which the All Father 
 has established throughout the living and 
 sentient world, is interrupted, and Man, our 
 
 * The reader who may wish to see EVERY-MAN com- 
 plete will find it in the first volume of Thomas Hawkins' 
 " Origin of the English Drama," &c. 
 
 Philosopher would sorrowfully observe, has 
 interrupted it, not only for himself, but for 
 such of the inferior creatures as are under 
 his control. He has degraded the instincts 
 of some, and in others, perhaps it may not 
 be too much to say that he has corrupted 
 that moral sense of which even the brute 
 creation partakes in its degree ; and has 
 inoculated them with his own vices. Thus 
 the decoy duck is made a traitor to her own 
 species, and so are all those smaller birds 
 which the bird-catcher trains to assist him 
 in ensnaring others. The Rat, who is one 
 of the bravest of created things, is in like 
 manner rendered a villain. 
 
 Upon hunting and hawking the Doctor 
 laid little stress, because both dogs and 
 falcons in their natural state would have 
 hunted and fowled on their own account. 
 These sports, according to his " poor way of 
 thinking," tended to deprave not so much 
 the animals, as the human beings employed 
 in them ; for when they ceased to be ne- 
 cessary for the support or protection of man, 
 they became culpable. But to train dogs 
 for war, and flesh them upon living pri- 
 soners, as the Spaniards did, (and as, long 
 since the decease of my venerable friend, 
 Buonaparte's officers did in St. Domingo,) 
 to make horses, gentle and harmless as 
 well as noble in their disposition as they are, 
 take a part in our senseless political con- 
 tentions, charge a body of men, and trample 
 over their broken limbs and palpitating 
 bodies, to convert the Elephant, whom 
 Pope, he said, had wronged by only calling 
 him half-reasoning, the mild, the thoughtful, 
 the magnanimous Elephant, into a wilful, 
 and deliberate, and cruel executioner, these, 
 he thought, were acts of high treason against 
 humanity, and of impiety against universal 
 nature. Grievous indeed it is, he said, to 
 know that the whole creation groaneth and 
 travaileth in pain ; but more grievous to 
 consider that man, who by his original sin 
 was the guilty cause of their general de- 
 pravation, should continue by repeated sins to 
 aggravate it ; to which he added that the 
 lines of the Roman Satirist, though not exactly 
 true, were yet humiliating and instructive.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 617 
 
 Mundi 
 
 Principio indulsit communis conditor illis 
 Tan turn aniias, nobis animum quoque, mutuus lit nos 
 Adfectus petere auxilium et prtestare juberet, 
 Dispersot trahere in populum, migrare vetusta 
 De nemore, et proavis habitatas linquere silvat ; 
 Mdijicare domos, Laribus conjungere nostrit 
 Tfctum aliud, ttitns vicino limine somnos 
 Ut conlata daretfiducia ; protegere armis 
 Labsum, out ingenli nutantem vulnere civem, 
 Communidare signa tuba, defendier tsdem 
 Turribus, atque uni portarum clave teneri. 
 Scdjam serpentum major concordia ; parcit 
 Cugnatit macutii sitnilisfera ; qitando leoni 
 Fortior eripuit vitam leo f quo nemore unquam 
 Expiravit aper majoris dentibus aprif 
 Indica tigris agit rabida cum tigride pacem 
 Perpetuam : stevis inter se convenit ursii. 
 Ast homini ferrum lethale incude nefandd 
 Produxisse parurn est ; quum rastra et sarcula tantum 
 Adsueti coquere, et mar f is ac vomere lassi 
 Nescii-rint primi gladios excudere fabri. 
 Adspicimrts populos, quorum non sufflcit iree 
 Occidisse aliquem : sedpectora, brachia, vullum 
 Crcdiderint genus esse cibi. Quid diceret ergo 
 I'd quo nonfugerit, si nunc htec monstra videret 
 Pythagoras : cunctis animalibus abstinuit qui 
 Tanquam homine, et ventri indulsit non omne legumen.* 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXVHI. 
 
 RATS. PLAN OF THE LAUREATE SOUTHEY FOR 
 LESSENING THEIR NUMBER. THE DOCTOR'S 
 HUMANITY IN REFUSING TO SELL POISON 
 TO KILL VERMIN, AFTER THE EXAMPLE 
 OF PETER HOPKINS HIS MASTER. POLI- 
 TICAL HATS NOT ALLUDED TO. RECIPE 
 FOR KILLING RATS. 
 
 I know that nothing can be so innocently writ, or 
 carried, but may be made obnoxious to construction ; 
 marry, whilst I bear mine innocence about me, I fear 
 it not. BEN JONSON. 
 
 THE Laureate Southey proposed some years 
 ago in one of his numerous and multifarious 
 
 The reader may call to mind the commencement of 
 the Third Canto of Kokeby. 
 
 The hunting tribes of air and earth 
 Respect the brethren of their birth ; 
 Nature, who loves the claim of kind, 
 Less cruel, chase to each assigned. 
 The falcon, poised on soaring wing, 
 Watches the wild-duck by the spring ; 
 The slow-hound wakes the fox's lair ; 
 The greyhound presses on the hare ; 
 The eagle pounces on the lamb ; 
 The wolf devours the fleecy dam : 
 Even tiger fell and sullen bear 
 Their likeness and their lineage spare. 
 Man, only, mars kind Nature's plan 
 And turns the fierce pursuit on man ; 
 Plying war's desultory trade, 
 Incursion, flight, and ambuscade, 
 Since Nimrod, Cush's mighty son, 
 At first the bloody game begun. 
 
 books, three methods for lessening the 
 number of rats, one of which was to in- 
 oculate some of these creatures with the 
 small-pox or any other infectious disease, 
 and turn them loose. Experiments, he said, 
 should first be made, lest the disease should 
 assume in them so new a form, as to be 
 capable of being returned to us with in- 
 terest. If it succeeded, man has means in 
 his hand which would thin the hyenas, 
 wolves, jackals and all gregarious beasts of 
 prey. 
 
 Considering the direction which the March 
 of his Intellect has long been taking, it 
 would surprise me greatly if the Laureate 
 were now to recommend or justify any such 
 plan. For setting aside the contemplated 
 possibility of physical danger, there are 
 moral and religious considerations which 
 ought to deter us from making use of any 
 such means, even for an allowable end. 
 
 Dr. Dove, like his master and benefactor 
 Peter Hopkins before him, never would sell 
 poison for destroying vermin. Hopkins 
 came to that resolution in consequence of 
 having been called as a witness upon a trial 
 for poisoning at York. The arsenic had not 
 been bought at his shop ; but to prevent the 
 possibility of being innocently instrumental 
 to the commission of such a crime, he made 
 it from that time a rule for himself, irre- 
 vocable as the laws of the Medes and Per- 
 sians, that to no person whatever, on any 
 account, would he supply ingredients which 
 by carelessness or even by unavoidable ac- 
 cident might be so fatally applied. 
 
 To this rule his pupil and successor, our 
 Doctor, religiously adhered. And when 
 any one not acquainted with the rule of the 
 shop, came there on such an errand, he 
 used always, if he was on the spot, to re- 
 commend other methods, adapting his argu- 
 ments to what he knew of the person's 
 character, or judged of it from his phy- 
 siognomy. To an ill-conditioned and ill- 
 looking applicant he simply recommended 
 certain ways of entrapping rats as more 
 convenient, and more likely to prove effi- 
 cacious : but to those of whom he enter- 
 tained a more favourable opinion, he would
 
 618 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 bint at the cruelty of using poison, ob- 
 serving that though we exercised a clear 
 natural right in destroying noxious crea- 
 tures, we were not without sin if in so 
 doing we inflicted tipon them any suffering 
 more than what must needs accompany a 
 violent death. 
 
 Some good-natured reader who is pestered 
 with rats in his house, his warehouses, or his 
 barns, will perhaps, when he comes to this 
 part of our book, wish to be informed in 
 what manner our Zoophilist would have 
 advised him to rid himself of these vermin. 
 
 There are two things to be considered 
 here, first hew to catch rats, and secondly, 
 how to destroy them when caught. And 
 the first of these questions is a delicate one, 
 when a greater catch has recently been 
 made than any that was ever heard of 
 before, except in the famous adventure of 
 the Pied Piper at Hammel. Jack Robinson 
 had some reputation in his day for his pro- 
 fessional talents in this line, but he was a 
 bungler in comparison with Mr. Peel. 
 
 The second belongs to a science which 
 Jeremy the thrice illustrious Bentham calls 
 Phthisozoics, or the art of destruction ap- 
 plied to noxious animals, a science which 
 the said Jeremy proposes should form part 
 of the course of studies in his Chrestomathic 
 school. There are no other animals in this 
 country who do so much mischief now as the 
 disciples of Jeremy himself. 
 
 But leaving this pestilent set, as one of 
 the plagues with which Great Britain is 
 afflicted for its sins ; and intending no 
 offence to any particular Bishop, Peer, 
 Baronet, Peer-expectant, or public man 
 whatever, and protesting against any ap- 
 plication of what may here be said to any 
 person who is, has been, or may be included 
 under any of the forementioned denomina- 
 tions, I shall satisfy the good-natured 
 reader's desires, and inform him in what 
 manner our Philosopher and Zoophilist, 
 (philanthropist is a word which would 
 poorly express the extent of his benevolence,) 
 advised those who consulted him as to the 
 best manner of taking and destroying rats. 
 Protesting therefore once more, as is need- 
 
 ful in these ticklish times, that I am speaking 
 not of the Pro-papist or Anti-Hanoverian 
 rat, which is a new species of the Parliament 
 rat, but of the old Norway or Hanoverian 
 one, which in the last century effected the 
 conquest of our island by extirpating the 
 original British breed, I inform the humane 
 reader that the Doctor recommended 
 nothing more than the common rat-catcher's 
 receipt, which is to lure them into a cage by 
 oik of carraways, or of rhodium, and that 
 when entrapped, the speediest and easiest 
 death which can be inflicted is by sinking 
 the cage in water. 
 
 Here Mr. Slenderwit, critic in ordinary 
 to an established journal, wherein he is 
 licensed to sink, burn and destroy any book 
 in which his publisher has not a particular 
 interest, turns down the corners of his 
 mouth in contemptuous admiration, and 
 calling to mind the anecdote of Grainger's 
 invocation repeats in a tone of the softest 
 self-complacence, " Now Muse, let's sing of 
 Rats ! " And Mr. Slapdash, who holds a 
 similar appointment in a rival periodical, 
 slaps his thigh in exultation upon finding so 
 good an opportunity for a stroke at the 
 anonymous author. But let the one simper 
 in accompaniment to the other's snarl. I 
 shall say out my say in disregard of both. 
 Ay, Gentlemen, 
 
 For if a Humble Bee should kill a Whale 
 With the butt end of the Antarctic pole, 
 'Tis nothing to the mark at which we aim. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXIX. 
 
 BATS LIKE LEARNED MEN LIABLE TO BE 
 LED BY THE NOSE. THE ATTENDANT UPON 
 THE STEPS OF MAN, AND A SORT OF 
 INSEPARABLE ACCIDENT. SEIGNEUR DE 
 HUMESESNE AND PANTAGRUEL. 
 
 Where my pen hath offended, 
 
 I pray you it may be amended 
 
 By discrete consideration 
 
 Of your wise reformation : 
 
 I have not offended, I trust, 
 
 If it be sadly discust. SKKLTON. 
 
 MARVEL not, reader, that rats, though they 
 are among the most sagacious of all animals,
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 619 
 
 should be led by the nose. It has been the 
 fate of many great men, many learned men, 
 most weak ones, and some cunning ones. 
 
 When we regard the comparative sagacity 
 of animals, it should always be remembered 
 that every creature, from the lowest point 
 of sentient existence upward, till we arrive 
 at man, is endued with sagacity sufficient to 
 provide for its own well-being, and for the 
 continuance of its kind. They are gifted 
 with greater endowments as they ascend in 
 the scale of being, and those who lead a life 
 of danger, and at the same time of en- 
 terprise, have their faculties improved by 
 practice, take lessons from experience, and 
 draw rational conclusions upon matters 
 within their sphere of intellect and of 
 action, more sagaciously than nine tenths of 
 the human race can do. 
 
 Now no other animal is placed in circum- 
 stances which tend so continually to sharpen 
 its wits (were I writing to the learned 
 only, I should perhaps say to acuate its 
 faculties, or to develops its intellectual 
 powers,) as the rat, nor does any other ap- 
 pear to be of a more improvable nature. 
 He is of a most intelligent family, being 
 related to the Beaver. And in civilised 
 countries he is not a wild creature, for he 
 follows the progress of civilisation, and 
 adapts his own habits of life to it, so as to 
 avail himself of its benefits. 
 
 The "pampered Goose" who in Pope's 
 Essay retorts upon man, and says that man 
 was made for the use of Geese, must have 
 been forgetful of plucking- time, as well as 
 ignorant of the rites that are celebrated in 
 all old-fashioned families on St. Michael's 
 day. But the Rat might with more ap- 
 parent reason support such an assertion : he 
 is not mistaken in thinking than corn-stacks 
 are as much for his use as for the farmer's ; 
 that barns and granaries are his winter 
 magazines ; that the Miller is his acting 
 partner, the Cheesemonger his purveyor, 
 and the Storekeeper his steward. He places 
 himself in relation with man, not as his de- 
 pendent like the dog, nor like the cat as his 
 ally, nor like the sheep as his property, nor 
 like the ox as his servant, nor like horse and 
 
 ass as his slaves, nor like poultry who are to 
 "come and be killed" when Mrs. Bond 
 invites them ; but as his enemy, a bold 
 borderer, a Johnnie Armstrong or Rob Roy, 
 who acknowledge no right of property in 
 others, and live by spoil. 
 
 Wheresoever man goes, Rat follows, or 
 accompanies him. Town or country are 
 equally agreeable to him. He enters upon 
 your house as a tenant-at-will, (his own, not 
 yours,) works out for himself a covered way 
 in your walls, ascends by it from one story 
 to another, and leaving you the larger apart- 
 ments, takes possession of the space between 
 floor and ceiling, as an entresol for himself. 
 There he has his parties, and his revels, and 
 his gallopades, (merry ones they are,) when 
 you would be asleep, if it were not for the 
 spirit with which the youth and belles of 
 Rat-land keep up the ball over your head. 
 And you are more fortunate than most of 
 your neighbours, if he does not prepare for 
 himself a mausoleum behind your chimney- 
 piece or under your hearth-stone*, retire 
 into it when he is about to die, and very 
 soon afford you full proof that though he 
 may have lived like a hermit, his relics are 
 not in the odour of sanctity. You have 
 then the additional comfort of knowing that 
 the spot so appropriated will thenceforth be 
 used either as a common cemetery, or a 
 family vault. In this respect, as in many 
 others, nearer approaches are made to us by 
 inferior creatures than are dreamt of in our 
 philosophy. 
 
 The adventurous merchant ships a cargo 
 for some distant port, Rat goes with it. 
 Great Britain plants a colony in Botany 
 Bay, Van Diemen's Land, or at the Swan 
 River, Rat takes the opportunity for colo- 
 nising also. Ships are sent out upon a 
 voyage of discovery, Rat embarks as a 
 volunteer. He doubled the Stormy Cape 
 with Diaz, arrived at Malabar in the first 
 European vessel with Gama, discovered the 
 
 * Southey alludes here to an incident which occurred 
 in his own house. On taking up the hearth-stone in the 
 dining-room at Keswick, it was found that the mice had 
 made underneath it a Campo Santo, a depository for 
 their dead.
 
 620 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 new world with Columbus and took pos- 
 session of it at the same time, and circum- 
 navigated the globe with Magellan, and with 
 Drake, and with Cook. 
 
 After all, the Seigneur de Humesesne, 
 whatever were the merits of that great case 
 which he pleaded before Pantagruel at 
 Paris, had reasonable grounds for his asser- 
 tion when he said, Monsieur et Messieurs, si 
 I'iniquite des hommes estoit aussi facilement 
 vue enjugemcnt categorique, comme on connoit 
 mousches en lait, le monde quatre bceufs ne 
 seroit tant mange de Rats comme il est. 
 
 The Doctor thought there was no crea- 
 ture to which you could trace back so many 
 persons in civilised society by the indica- 
 tions which they afforded of habits acquired 
 in their praenatal professional education. In 
 what other vehicle, during its ascent, could 
 the Archeus of the Sailor have acquired the 
 innate courage, the constant presence of 
 mind, and the inexhaustible resources, which 
 characterise a true seaman ? Through this 
 link too, on his progress towards humanity, 
 the good soldier has passed, who is brave, 
 alert and vigilant, cautious never to give his 
 enemy an opportunity of advantage, and 
 watchful to lose the occasion that presents 
 itself. From the Eat our Philosopher traced 
 the engineer, the miner, the lawyer, the 
 thief, and the thief- taker, that is, ge- 
 nerally speaking : some of these might have 
 pre-existed in the same state as moles or 
 ferrets ; but those who excelled in their 
 respective professions had most probably 
 been trained as rats. 
 
 The judicious reader will do me the 
 justice to observe that as I am only faith- 
 fully representing the opinions and fancies 
 of my venerable friend, I add neither 
 M. P., Dean, Bishop nor Peer to the list, 
 nor any of those public men who are known 
 to hanker after candle-ends and cheese- 
 parings. 
 
 Indeed, it is a strange-disposed time ; 
 
 But men may construe things after their fashion, 
 
 Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.* 
 
 It behoves me to refrain more especially 
 upon this subject from anything which the 
 
 * SHAKSPEARB. 
 
 malicious might interpret as scandal : for 
 the word itself aKuvSaXov, the Greek gratfi- 
 marians tell us, and the great Anglo-Latin 
 Lexicographist tells me, properly signifies 
 that little piece of wood in a mouse-trap or 
 pit-fall, which bears up the trap, and being 
 touched lets it fall. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXX. 
 
 DISTINCTION BETWEEN YOUNG ANGELS AND 
 YOUNG YAHOOS. FAIRIES, KILLCROPS, AND 
 CHANGELINGS. LUTHER*S OPINIONS ON THE 
 SUBJECT. HIS COLLOQUIA MENSALIA. DIF- 
 FERENCE BETWEEN THE OLD AND NEW 
 EDITION. 
 
 I think it not impertinent sometimes to relate such 
 accidents ag may seem no better than mere trifles ; for 
 even by trifles are the qualities of great persons as well 
 disclosed as by their great actions ; because in matters of 
 importance they commonly strain themselves to the ob- 
 servance of general commended rules ; in lesser things 
 they follow the current of their own natures. 
 
 SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 
 
 IT may easily be inferred from some of the 
 Doctor's peculiar opinions, or fancies, as he 
 in unaffected humility would call them, that 
 though a dear lover of children, his love of 
 them was not indiscriminate. He made a 
 great distinction between young angels and 
 young yahoos, and thought it might very 
 early be discovered whether the angel or the 
 brute part predominated. 
 
 This is sometimes so strongly marked and 
 so soon developed as to excite observation 
 even in the most incurious ; and hence the 
 well-known superstition concerning Change- 
 lings. 
 
 In the heroic ages a divine origin is 
 ascribed to such persons as were most re- 
 markable for their endowments either of 
 -body or of mind ; but this may far more 
 probably be traced to adulation in the 
 poets, than to contemporary belief at any 
 time prevailing among the people ; whereas 
 the opposite superstition was really believed 
 in the middle ages, and traces of it are still 
 to be found. 
 
 It is remarkable that the Fairies, who in
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 621 
 
 the popular belief of this country are never 
 represented as malignant upon any other 
 occasion, act an evil part in the supposed 
 case of Changelings. So it is with the Trolls 
 also of our Scandinavian kinsmen, (though 
 this race of beings is in worse repute :) the 
 children whom they substitute for those 
 whom they steal are always a plague to the 
 nurse and to the parents. In Germany 
 such children were held to be young Devils, 
 but whether Mac-Incubi, Mac-Succubi, or 
 O'Devils by the whole blood is not clearly 
 to be collected from Martin Luther, who is 
 the great authority upon this subject. He 
 is explicit upon the fact that the Nix or 
 Water Fiend increases the population by a 
 mixed breed ; but concerning the Killcrops, 
 as his countrymen the Saxons call them, 
 whom the Devil leaves in exchange, when 
 he steals children for purposes best known 
 to himself, Luther does not express any 
 definite opinion, farther than that they are 
 of a devilish nature : how fathered, how 
 mothered, the reader is left to conjecture as 
 he pleases. 
 
 " Eight years since," said Luther, at 
 " Dessaw I did see and touch a changed 
 child, which was twelve years of age ; he 
 had his eyes and all members like another 
 child ; he did nothing but feed, and would 
 eat as much as two clowns or threshers were 
 able to eat. When one touched it, then it 
 cried out. When any evil happened in the 
 house, then it laughed, and was joyful ; but 
 when all went well, then it cried, and was 
 very sad. I told the Prince of Anhalt, that 
 if I were Prince of that country, so would 
 I venture homicidium thereon, and would 
 throw it into the river Moldaw. I admo- 
 nished the people dwelling in that place 
 devoutly to pray to God to take away the 
 Devil ; the same was done accordingly, and 
 the second year after the Changeling died. 
 
 ' In Saxonia, near unto Halberstad, was 
 a man that also had a Killcrop, who sucked 
 the mother and five other women dry, and 
 resides devoured very much. This man 
 was advised that he should in his pilgrimage 
 at Halberstad make a promise of the Killcrop 
 to the Virgin Mary, and should cause him 
 
 there to be rocked. This advice the man 
 followed, and carried the Changeling thither 
 in a basket. But going over a river, being 
 upon the bridge, another Devil that was 
 below in the river called, and said, Killcrop! 
 Killcrop ! Then the child in the basket, 
 (which never before spake one word,) 
 answered Ho, ho ! The Devil in the water 
 asked further, whither art thou going ? The 
 child in the basket said, ' I am going towards 
 Halberstad to our Loving Mother, to be 
 rocked.' The man being much affrighted 
 thereat, threw the child with the basket 
 over the bridge into the water. Whereupon 
 the two Devils flew away together, and 
 cried, ho, ho, ha ! tumbling themselves one 
 over another and so vanished. 
 
 " Such Changelings and Killcrops," said 
 Luther, "supponit Satan in locum verorum 
 filiorum ; for the Devil hath this power, 
 that he changeth children, and instead 
 thereof layeth Devils in the cradles, which 
 thrive not, only they feed and suck : but 
 such Changelings live not above eighteen or 
 nineteen years. It oftentimes falleth out that 
 the children of women in child-bed are thus 
 changed, and Devils laid in their stead, one 
 of which more fouleth itself than ten other 
 children do, so that the parents are much 
 therewith disquieted ; and the mothers in 
 such sort are sucked out, that afterwards 
 they are able to give suck no more. Such 
 Changelings," said Luther, " are baptized, 
 in regard that they cannot be known the 
 first year, but are known only by sucking 
 the mothers dry." 
 
 Mr. Cottle has made this the subject of a 
 lively eclogue ; but if that gentleman had 
 happened upon the modern edition of 
 Luther's Colloquia Mensalia^ or Divine 
 Discourses at his Table, instead of the old 
 one, this pleasant poem would never have 
 been written, the account of the Killcrops 
 being one of the passages which the modern 
 editor thought proper to omit. His omis- 
 sions are reprehensible, because no notice is 
 given that any such liberty has been taken ; 
 and indeed a paragraph in the introductory 
 life which is prefixed to the edition might 
 lead the reader to conclude that it is a
 
 622 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 faithful reprint ; that paragraph saying 
 there are many things which, for the credit 
 of Luther, might as well have been left out, 
 and proceeding to say, " but then it must be 
 considered that such Discourses must not 
 be brought to the test of our present refined 
 age ; that all what a man of Luther's name 
 and character spoke, particularly at the 
 latter part of his life, was thought by his 
 friends worth the press, though himself 
 meant it only for the recreation of the com- 
 pany ; that he altered many opinions in his 
 progress from darkness to light ; and that it 
 is with a work of this kind, as with the 
 publishing of letters which were never in- 
 tended for the press ; the Author speaks 
 his sentiments more freely, and you arq able 
 to form a true idea of his character, by 
 looking, as it were, into his heart." Never- 
 theless there are considerable omissions, and 
 as may be supposed of parts which are 
 curious, and in a certain sense valuable 
 because they are characteristic. But the 
 reprint was the speculation of a low pub- 
 lisher, put forth in numbers, and intended 
 only for a certain class of purchasers, who 
 would read the book for edification. The 
 work itself deserves farther notice, and that 
 notice is the more properly and willingly 
 bestowed upon it here, because the original 
 edition is one of the few volumes belonging 
 to my venerable friend which have passed 
 into my possession, and his mark occurs 
 frequently in its margin. 
 
 " I will make no long excursion here, but 
 a short apology for one that deserved well 
 of the reformed Religion. Many of our 
 adversaries have aspersed Luther, with ill 
 words, but none so violent as our English 
 fugitives, because he doth confess it that the 
 Devil did encounter him very frequently, 
 and familiarly, when he first put pen to 
 paper against the corruptions of the Church 
 of Rome. In whose behalf I answer : much 
 of that which is objected I cannot find in the 
 Latin Editions of his works which himself 
 corrected, although it appears by the quota- 
 tions some such things were in his first 
 writings set forth in the Dutch language. 
 2. I say no more than he confesseth in- 
 
 genuously of himself in an epistle to Bren- 
 tius, his meaning was good, but his words 
 came from him very unskilfully, and his 
 style was most rough and unsavoury. St. 
 Paul says of himself, that he was rudis 
 sermone, rude in speech. But Luther was 
 not so much icidinji; ry \6y<[>, the word 
 used in Saint Paul, as dypoiKoc, after his 
 Dutch Monastical breeding, and his own hot 
 freedom. By nature he had a boisterous 
 clownish expression ; but for the most part 
 very good jewels of doctrine in the dung- 
 hills of his language. 3. If the Devil did 
 employ himself to delude and vex that 
 heroical servant of God, who took such a 
 task upon him, being a simple Monk, to 
 inveigh against errors and superstitions 
 which had so long prevailed, why should it 
 seem strange to any man ? Ribadaneira 
 sticks it among the praises of his founder 
 Ignatius Loiola, that the Devil did declaim 
 and cry out against him, (believe it every one 
 of you at your leisure,) and why might not 
 the Devil draw near to vex Luther, as well 
 as roar out a great way off against Loiola f 
 I have digrest a little with your patience, to 
 make Luther's case appear to be no out- 
 rageous thing, that weak ones may not be 
 offended when they hear such stuff objected 
 out of Parsons, or Barclay, or Walsingham, 
 or out of Bellarmine himself. If Beelzebub 
 was busy with the Master, what will he be 
 with the Servants ? When Christ did begin 
 to lay the first corner stone of the Gospel, 
 then he walked into the wilderness to be 
 tempted of the Devil."* 
 
 * HACKET a SERMONS.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 623 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXXI. 
 
 QUESTION AS TO WHETHER BOOKS UNDER 
 THE TERMINATION OF " ANA " HAVE BEEN 
 SERVICEABLE OR INJURIOUS TO LITERA- 
 TURE CONSIDERED IN CONNECTION WITH 
 LUTHER'S TABLE TALK. HISTORY OF THE 
 EARLY ENGLISH TRANSLATION OF THAT 
 BOOK, OF ITS WONDERFUL PRESERVATION, 
 AND OF THE MARVELLOUS AND UNIM- 
 PEACHABLE VERACITY OF CAPTAIN HENRY 
 
 BELL. 
 
 Prophecies, predictions, Or where they abide, 
 
 Stories and fictions, 
 Allegories, rhymes, 
 And serious pastimes 
 For all manner men, 
 Without regard when, 
 
 On this or that side, 
 Or under the mid line 
 Of the Holland sheets fine, 
 Or in the tropics fair 
 Of sunshine and clear air, 
 Or under the pole 
 Of chimney and sea coal : 
 
 Read they that list ; understand they that can ; 
 f'crl/um satis cst to a wise man. 
 
 BOOK OF RIDDLES. 
 
 LUTHER'S Table Talk is probably the earliest 
 of that class of books, which, under the ter- 
 mination of ana, became frequent in the two 
 succeeding centuries, and of which it may 
 be questioned whether they have been more 
 serviceable or injurious to literature. For 
 though they have preserved much that is 
 valuable, and that otherwise might probably 
 have been lost, on the other hand they have 
 introduced into literary history not a little 
 that is either false, or of suspicious authority; 
 some of their contents have been obtained 
 by breach of confidence ; many sayings are 
 ascribed in them to persons by whom they 
 were never uttered, and many things have 
 been fabricated for them. 
 
 The Collection concerning Luther bears 
 this title in the English translation : " Doc- 
 toris Martini Lutheri Colloquia Mensalia : 
 or, Dr. Martin Luther's Divine Discourses 
 at his Table, &c., which in his lifetime he 
 held with clivers learned men, (such as were 
 Philip Melancthon, Casparus Cruciger, 
 Justus Jonas, Paulus Eberus, Vitus Die- 
 tericus, Joannes Bugenhagen, Joannes For- 
 sterus, and others :) containing Questions 
 and Answers touching Religion, and other 
 main Points of Doctrine ; as also many 
 notable Histories, and all sorts of Learning, 
 
 Comforts, Advices, Prophecies, Admonitions, 
 Directions and Instructions. Collected first 
 together by Dr. Antonius Lauterbach, and 
 afterwards disposed into certain Common- 
 places by John Aurifaber, Doctor in Di- 
 vinity. Translated out of the High German 
 into the English tongue, by Captain Henry 
 Bell. 
 
 John vi. 12. Gather, up the fragments that 
 
 nothing be lost. 
 
 1 Cor. x. 31. Whether therefore ye eat 
 or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to 
 the Glory of God. 
 
 Tertull. Apologet. cap. 39. The primitive 
 Christians ate and drank to satisfy 
 nature, and discoursed at their Tables 
 of the Holy Scriptures, or otherwise, as 
 became those that knew God did hear 
 them, ut non tarn ccenam ccenaverint, 
 quam disciplinam. 
 
 Ancient Writers, Councils, and our Uni- 
 versity College Statutes require sacra 
 ad mensam. 
 Luther in Gen. 2. Sermones vera sunt 
 
 condimenta ciborum. 
 
 Melchior Adamus in Vita Lutheri. Inter 
 prandendum et ccenandum non rarb con- 
 dones aliis dictavit. 
 
 London, Printed by William Du Gard, 
 dwelling in Suffolk-lane, near London-stone, 
 1652." 
 
 The original Collection was first published 
 three-and-thirty years after Luther's death, 
 consequently not till most of those persons 
 from whose reminiscences it professes to be 
 compiled had passed away. The book there- 
 fore is far from carrying with it any such 
 stamp of authenticity as Boswell's Life of 
 Johnson, which in that respect, as well as 
 for its intrinsic worth, is the Ana of all Anas. 
 But though it may have been undertaken 
 upon book-making motives, there seems no 
 reason to suppose that the task was not per- 
 formed faithfully by the Doctors Clear- 
 stream and Goldsmith, according to their 
 judgement, and that much which had lightly 
 or carelessly fallen from such a man as 
 Luther was likely to be carefully preserved, 
 and come into their hands. Many parts 
 indeed authenticate themselves, bearing so
 
 624 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 strong a likeness that no one can hesitate at 
 filiating them upon the ipsissimus Luther. 
 The editor of the modern English edition, 
 John Gottlieb Burckhardt, D. D., who was 
 Minister of the German Lutheran Congre- 
 gation in the Savoy, says, " the Book made 
 a great noise at its first appearance in 1569. 
 Some indeed have called its authenticity in 
 question ; but there is no reason to doubt of 
 the testimony of Dr. John Aurifaber ; and 
 indeed the full character of Luther's free 
 manner of speaking and thinking is seen 
 almost in every line. The same manly, open, 
 bold and generous spirit breathes through 
 the whole, as is felt in reading the composi- 
 tions which he published himself in his life- 
 time. There is a pleasing variety of matters 
 contained in these discourses, and many 
 fundamental truths are proposed in a fa- 
 miliar, careless dress, and in Luther's own 
 witty, acute manner ; for which reason it is 
 as much entertaining to popular capacities 
 as to men of genius. Many good Christians 
 have found it to be of great benefit for 
 establishing their souls in the knowledge 
 and practice of truth, and of the good old 
 way ; and since many weeds grow up from 
 time to time in the Church, this book handed 
 down to posterity, will be a standing test of 
 sound doctrines, which our forefathers be- 
 lieved, and of such wise principles on which 
 they acted at, and after the Reformation." 
 On the other hand the book afforded as 
 much gratification to the enemies of Luther, 
 as to his admirers. Bayle after noticing 
 some of the monstrous calumnies with which 
 the Papists assailed his memory, proceeds to 
 say, La plupart de ces medisances sont 
 fondees sur quelques paroles (fun certain livre 
 public par les amis de Luther, aus'quelles on 
 donne un sens tres-malin, etfort eloigne de la 
 pensee de ce Ministre. Ce nest pas qu'il ne 
 faille convenir quil y cut nne tres-grande 
 imprudence a publier une telle compilation. 
 Ce fut Feffet d'un zele inconsidere, ou plutot 
 d'une preoccupation excessive, qui empechoit 
 de conoitre les defauts de ce grand nomme. 
 In like manner Seckendorf, whom Bayle 
 quotes, says it was compiled with little 
 prudence, and incautiously published, but 
 
 upon its authenticity, (as far as any such 
 collection can be deemed authentic,) he casts 
 no suspicion. 
 
 Something worse than want of prudence 
 may be suspected in those who set forth the 
 English translation. The translator in- 
 troduced it by " a Narrative of the mira- 
 culous preserving" of the book, and " how 
 by God's Providence it was discovered lying 
 under the ground where it had lain hid 
 fifty-two years:" "I, Capt. Henry Bell," 
 he says, " do hereby declare both to the 
 present age and also to posterity, that being 
 employed beyond the seas in state affairs 
 divers years together, both by King Jnmes, 
 and also by the late King Charles, in Ger- 
 many I did hear and understand in all 
 places, great bewailing and lamentation 
 made, by reason of the destroying or burn- 
 ing of above fourscore thousand of Martin 
 Luther's books, entituled his last Divine 
 Discourses. For after such time as God 
 stirred up the spirit of Martin Luther to 
 detect the corruptions and abuses of Popery, 
 and to preach Christ, and clearly to set forth 
 the simplicity of the Gospel, many Kings, 
 Princes and States, Imperial Cities, and 
 Hanse-Towns, fell from the Popish Religion, 
 and became Protestants as their posterities 
 still are, and remain to this very day. And 
 for the further advancement of the great 
 work of Reformation then begun, the fore- 
 said Princes and the rest did then order, 
 that the said Divine Discourses of Luther 
 should forthwith be printed, and that every 
 Parish should have and receive one of the 
 foresaid printed Books into every Church 
 throughout all their principalities and domi- 
 nions, to be chained up, for the common 
 people to read therein. Upon which the 
 Reformation was wonderfully promoted and 
 increased, and spread both here in England 
 and other countries beside. But afterwards 
 it so fell out, that the Pope then living, viz. 
 Gregory XIII., understanding what great 
 hurt and prejudice he and his popish re- 
 ligion had already received by reason of the 
 said Luther's Divine Discourses ; and also 
 fearing that the same might bring farther 
 contempt and mischief upon himself, and
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 625 
 
 upon the popish Church, he therefore, to 
 prevent the same, did fiercely stir up and 
 instigate the Emperor then in being, viz. 
 Rudolphus II., to make an edict through 
 the whole empire, that all the foresaid 
 printed books should be burnt, and also that 
 it should be Death for any person to have 
 or keep a copy thereof, but also to burn 
 the same : which edict was speedily put in 
 execution accordingly, in so much that not 
 one of all the said printed books, not so 
 much as any one copy of the same, could be 
 found out, nor heard of in any place." 
 
 Upon this it is to be observed that in the 
 popish states of Germany such an edict was 
 not required, and that in the Protestant 
 ones it could not be enforced. There is 
 therefore as little foundation for the state- 
 ment, as for the assertion introduced in it 
 that the Reformation was promoted in 
 England by the publication of this book in 
 German. The Book appears not to have 
 been common, for Bayle had never seen itj 
 but this was because few editions were 
 printed, not because many copies were des- 
 troyed. The reader, however, will judge by 
 what follows of the degree of credit which 
 may be given to any statement of Capt. 
 Henry Bell's. 
 
 " Yet it pleased God," the veracious 
 Captain proceeds, "that anno 1626 a German 
 Gentleman, named Casparus Van Sparr, 
 (with whom, in the time of my staying 
 in Germany about King James's business, 
 I became very familiarly known and ac- 
 quainted,) having occasion to build upon 
 the old foundation of an house wherein his 
 grandfather dwelt at that time when the 
 said edict was published in Germany for the 
 burning of the foresaid books, and digging 
 deep into the ground under the said old 
 foundation, one of the said original printed j 
 books was there happily found, lying in a 
 deep obscure hole, being wrapt in a strong 
 linen cloth, which was waxed all over with 
 bees-wax both within and without, whereby 
 the book was preserved fair without any 
 blemish. And at the same time Ferdi- 
 nandus II. being Emperor in Germany, who 
 was a severe enemy and persecutor of the 
 
 Protestant religion, the foresaid Gentleman 
 and grandchild to him that had hidden the 
 said Book in that obscure hole, fearing that 
 if the said Emperor should get knowledge 
 that one of the said Books was yet forth- 
 coming and in his custody, thereby not only 
 himself might be brought into trouble, but 
 also the Book in danger to be destroyed, as 
 all the rest were so long before ; and also 
 calling me to mind, and knowing that I had 
 the High Dutch tongue very perfect, did 
 send the said original Book over hither into 
 England, unto me ; and therewith did write 
 unto me a letter, wherein he related the 
 passages of the preserving and finding out 
 of the said Book. And also he earnestly 
 moved me in his letter, that for the ad- 
 vancement of God's glory, and of Christ's 
 Church, I would take the pains to translate 
 the said Book, to the end that that most 
 excellent Divine Work of Luther might be 
 brought again to light ! 
 
 " Whereupon I took the said Book before 
 me, and many times began to translate the 
 same, but always I was hindered therein, 
 being called upon about other business; 
 insomuch that by no possible means I could 
 remain by that work. Then about six weeks 
 after I had received the said Book, it fell 
 out, that I being in bed with my Wife, one 
 night between twelve and one of the clock, 
 she being asleep but myself yet awake, there 
 appeared unto me an Antient Man, standing 
 at my bed-side, arrayed all in white, having 
 a long and broad white beard, hanging down 
 to his girdle-stead ; who, taking me by my 
 right ear, spake these words following unto 
 me. Sirrah ! Will not you take time to 
 translate that Book u-hich is sent unto you out 
 of Germany ? I will shortly provide for 
 you both place and time to do it ! And then 
 he vanished away out of my sight. Where- 
 upon being much thereby affrighted, I fell 
 into an extreme sweat, insomuch that my 
 Wife awaking, and finding me all over wet, 
 she asked me what I ailed ; I told her what 
 I had seen and heard ; but I never did heed 
 nor regard visions, nor dreams. And so the 
 same fell soon out of my mind. 
 
 " Then, about a fortnight after I had seen
 
 626 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 that Vision, I went to Whitehall to hear the 
 Sermon ; after which ended, I returned to 
 my lodging, which was then in King Street 
 at Westminster, and sitting down to dinner 
 with my Wife, two Messengers were sent 
 from the whole Council-Board, with a war- 
 rant to carry me to the Keeper of the Gate 
 House, Westminster, there to be safely 
 kept, until further order from the Lords of 
 the Council ; which was done without show- 
 ing me any cause at all wherefore I was 
 committed. Upon which said warrant I 
 was kept there ten whole years close pri- 
 soner ; where I spent five years thereof 
 about the translating of the said Book : in- 
 somuch as I found the words very true 
 which the old man in the foresaid Vision 
 did say unto me, ' / will shortly provide for 
 you both place and time to translate it.' " 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXXII. 
 THE DOCTOR'S FAMILY FEELING. 
 
 It behoves the high 
 For their own sakes to do things worthily. 
 
 BEN JONSON. 
 
 No son ever regarded the memory of his 
 father with more reverential affection than 
 this last of the Doves. There never lived a 
 man, he said, to whom the lines of Marcus 
 Antonius Flaminius, (the sweetest of all 
 Latin poets in modern times, or perhaps of 
 any age,) could more truly be applied. 
 
 f'ixisti, genitor, bene, ac beale. 
 Nee pauper, neque dives ; erur/ititt 
 Satis, et tatis eloquent ; vulente 
 Semper corpurc, mrntf Sana ; amicis 
 Jw'itniiits, pielate singular!. 
 
 " What if he could not with the Heven- 
 ninghams of Suffolk count five and twenty 
 knights of his family, or tell sixteen knights 
 successively with the Tilneys of Norfolk, or 
 with the Nauntons shew where his ancestors 
 had seven hundred pounds a year before 
 the conquest," * he was, and with as much, 
 or perhaps more reason, contented with his 
 
 parentage. Indeed his family feeling was 
 so strong, that, if he had been of an illus- 
 trious race, pride, he acknowledged, was the 
 sin which would most easily have beset him ; 
 though on the other hand, to correct this 
 tendency, he thought there could be no 
 such persuasive preachers as old family por- 
 traits, and old monuments in the family 
 church. 
 
 He was far, however, from thinking that 
 those who are born to all the advantages, as 
 they are commonly esteemed, of rank and 
 fortune, are better placed for the improve- 
 ment of their moral and intellectual nature, 
 than those in a lower grade. JFortunatos 
 nimium sua si bona norint ! he used to say 
 of this class, but this is a knowledge that 
 they seldom possess ; and it is rare indeed 
 to find an instance in which the high privi- 
 leges which hereditary wealth conveys are 
 understood by the possessors, and rightly 
 appreciated and put to their proper use. 
 The one, and the two talents are, 
 
 (Oh ! bright occasions of dispensing good 
 How seldom used, how little understood ! f) 
 
 in general, more profitably occupied than 
 the five ; the five indeed are not often tied 
 up in a napkin, but still less often are they 
 faithfully employed in the service of that 
 Lord from whom they are received in trust, 
 and to whom an account of them must be 
 rendered. 
 
 " A man of family and estate," said John- 
 son, " ought to consider himself as having 
 the charge of a district over which he is to 
 diffuse civility and happiness." Are there 
 fifty men of family and estate in the Three 
 Kingdoms who feel and act as if this were 
 their duty? Are there five and forty ? 
 Forty? Thirty? Twenty? Or can it 
 be said with any probability of belief that 
 " peradventure Ten shall be found there ? " 
 
 m sangue illustre e sfgnorile, 
 In uom d' alti parenli ill mundo nalo. 
 La villa si raddoppia, e piu si scorge 
 Che in color o il cui grado olio non sorge.% 
 
 Here in England stood a village, within 
 the memory of man, no matter where, 
 
 COWPER. 
 
 TASSO
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 627 
 
 close by the Castle of a noble proprietor, 
 no matter who : 
 
 ilfiglio 
 
 Del tnlf, ed il nipote del cotale, 
 If aid per madre della tale.* 
 
 It contained about threescore houses, and 
 every cottager had ground enough for keep- 
 ing one or two cows. The noble proprietor 
 looked upon these humble tenements as an 
 eye-sore; and one by one as opportunity 
 offered, he purchased them, till at length he 
 became owner of the whole, one field ex- 
 cepted, which belonged to an old Quaker. 
 The old man resisted many offers, but at 
 last he was induced to exchange it for a 
 larger and better piece of land in another 
 place. No sooner had this transaction been 
 compleated, than the other occupants, who 
 were now only tenants at will, received 
 notice to quit ; the houses were demolished, 
 the inclosures levelled, hearthsteads and 
 homesteads, the cottage garden and the 
 cottage field disappeared, and the site was 
 in part planted, in part thrown into the 
 park. The Quaker, who unlike Naboth 
 had parted with the inheritance of his 
 fathers, was a native of the village ; but he 
 knew not how dearly he was attached to it, 
 till he saw its demolition : it was his fault, 
 he said ; and if he had not exchanged his 
 piece of ground, he should never have lived 
 to see his native place destroyed. He took 
 it deeply to heart ; it preyed upon his mind, 
 and he soon lost his senses and died. 
 
 I tell the story as it was related, within 
 sight of the spot, by a husbandman who 
 knew the place and the circumstances, and 
 well remembered that many people used to 
 come every morning from the adjacent parts 
 to buy milk there, "a quart of new milk 
 for a half-penny, and a quart of old given 
 with it." 
 
 Naboth has been named in relating this, 
 but the reader will not suppose that I have 
 any intention of comparing the great pro- 
 prietor to Ahab, or to William the Con- 
 queror. There was nothing unjust in his 
 proceedings, nothing iniquitous ; and (though 
 there may have been a great want of proper 
 
 CHIABREBA. 
 
 feeling) nothing cruel. I am not aware that 
 any hardship was inflicted upon the families 
 who were ejected, farther than the incon- 
 venience of a removal. He acted as most 
 persons in the same circumstances probably 
 would have acted, and no doubt he thought 
 that his magnificent habitation was greatly 
 improved by the demolition of the poor 
 dwellings which had neighboured it so 
 closely. Farther it may be said in his justi- 
 fication, (for which I would leave nothing 
 unsaid,) that very possibly the houses had 
 not sufficient appearance jof neatness and 
 comfort to render them agreeable objects, 
 that the people may have been in no better 
 state of manners and morals than villagers 
 commonly are, which is saying that they 
 were bad enough; that the filth of their 
 houses was thrown into the road, and that 
 their pigs, and their children, who were 
 almost as unclean, ran loose there. Add to 
 this, if you please, that though they stood 
 in fear of their great neighbour, there may 
 have been no attachment to him, and little 
 feeling of good-will. But I will tell you 
 how Dr. Dove would have proceeded if he 
 had been the hereditary Lord of that Castle 
 and that domain. 
 
 He would have considered that this vil- 
 lage was originally placed there for the sake 
 of the security which the Castle afforded. 
 Tunes had changed, and with them the rela- 
 tive duties of the Peer and of the Peasantry : 
 he no longer required their feudal services, 
 and they no longer stood in need of his pro- 
 tection. The more, therefore, according to 
 his " way of thinking," was it to be desired, 
 that other relations should be strengthened, 
 and the bonds of mutual good-will be more 
 closely intertwined. He would have looked 
 upon these villagers as neighbours, in whose 
 welfare and good conduct he was especially 
 interested, and over whom it was in his 
 power to exercise a most salutary and bene- 
 ficial influence ; and, having this power, he 
 would have known that it was his duty so to 
 use it. He would have established a school 
 in the village, and have allowed no ale- 
 house there. He would have taken his do- 
 mestics preferably from thence. If there
 
 628 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 were a boy who, by his gentle disposition, 
 his diligence, and his aptitude for learning, 
 gave promise of those qualities which best 
 become the clerical profession, he would 
 have sent that boy to a grammar-school, 
 and afterwards to college, supporting him 
 there in part, or wholly, according to the 
 parents' means, and placing him on his list 
 for preferment, according to his deserts. 
 
 If there were any others who discovered 
 a remarkable fitness for any other useful 
 calling, in that calling he would have had 
 them instructed, and given them his coun- 
 tenance and support, as long as they con- 
 tinued to deserve it. The Archbishop of 
 Braga, Fray Bartolomen dos Martyres, 
 added to his establishment a Physician for 
 the poor. Our friend would, in like man- 
 ner, have fixed a medical practitioner in the 
 village, one as like as he could find to a 
 certain Doctor at Doncaster ; and have al- 
 lowed him such a fixed stipend as might 
 have made him reasonably contented and 
 independent of the little emolument which 
 the practice of the place could afford, for he 
 would not have wished his services to be 
 gratuitous where there was no need. If the 
 parish, to which the village belonged, was 
 too extensive, or the parochial Minister un- 
 willing, or unable, to look carefully after 
 this part of his flock, his Domestic Chaplain, 
 (for he would not have lived without one,) 
 should have taken care of their religious in- 
 struction. 
 
 In his own family and his own person he 
 would have set his neighbours an example 
 of " whatsoever things are honest, whatso- 
 ever things are just, whatsoever things are 
 pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatso- 
 ever things are of good report." And as 
 this example produced its sure effects, he 
 would have left the Amateurs of Agricul- 
 ture to vie with each other in their breeds 
 of sheep and oxen, and in the costly culti- 
 vation of their farms. It would have been, 
 not his boast, for he boasted of nothing ; 
 not his pride, for he had none of 
 
 that poor vice which only empty men 
 Esteem a virtue * 
 
 BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. 
 
 it was out of the root of Christian humility 
 that all his virtues grew, but his consola- 
 tion and his delight, to know that nowhere in 
 Great Britain was there a neater, a more 
 comfortable village than close to his own 
 mansion ; nowhere a more orderly, a more- 
 moral, a more cheerful, or a happier people. 
 And if his castle had stood upon an eleva- 
 tion commanding as rich a survey as Belvoir 
 or Shobden, that village, when he looked 
 from his windows, would still have been the 
 most delightful object in the prospect. 
 
 I have not mentioned the name of the old 
 Quaker in my story ; but I will preserve it 
 in these pages, because the story is to his 
 honour. It was Joshua Dickson. If Quakers 
 have (and certainly they have) the quality 
 which is called modest assurance, in a super- 
 lative degree, that distinguishes them from 
 any other class of men (it is of the men only 
 that I speak), they are the only sect, who, as 
 a sect, cultivate the sense of conscience. 
 This was not a case of conscience, but of 
 strong feeling, assuming that character under 
 a tendency to madness. 
 
 When Lord Harcourt, about the same 
 time, removed the village of Nuneham, an 
 old widow, Barbara Wyat by name, earnestly 
 intreated that she might be allowed to re- 
 main in her old habitation. The request, 
 which it would have been most unfeeling to 
 refuse, was granted ; she ended her days 
 there, and then the cottage was pulled down : 
 but a tree, which grew beside it, and which 
 she had planted in her youth, is still shown 
 on the terrace at Nuneham, and called by 
 her name. Near it is placed the following 
 Inscription by that amiable man, the Lau- 
 reate Whitehead. Like all his serious poems 
 it may be read with pleasure and profit, 
 though the affecting circumstance, which 
 gives the anecdote its highest interest, is re- 
 lated only in a note. 
 
 This Tree was planted by a female hand, 
 
 In the gay dawn of rustic beauty's glow ; 
 And last beside it did her cottage stand, 
 
 When age had clothed the matron's head wivh snow. 
 
 To her, long used to nature's simple ways, 
 
 This single spot was happiness compleat; 
 Her tree could shield her from the noontide blaze, 
 
 And from the tempest screen her little seat.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 629 
 
 Here with her Colin oft the faithful maid 
 Had led the dance, the envious youths among ; 
 
 Here when his aged bones in earth were laid, 
 The patient matron turned her wheel and sung. 
 
 She felt her loss, yet felt it as she ought, 
 Nor dared 'gainst Nature's general law exclaim, 
 
 But checkt her tears and to her children taught 
 That well-known truth their lot would be the same. 
 
 The Thames before her flowed, his farther shores 
 She ne'er explored, contented with her own ; 
 
 And distant Oxford, tho' she saw its towers, 
 To her ambition was a world unknown. 
 
 Did dreadful tales the clowns from market beai 
 Of kings and tumults and the courtier train, 
 
 She coldly listened with unheeding ear, 
 And good Queen Anne, for aught she cared, might reign. 
 
 The sun her day, the seasons marked her year. 
 She toiled, she slept, from care, from envy free ; 
 
 For what had she to hope, or what to fear, 
 Blest with her cottage, and her favourite Tree. 
 
 Hear this ye Great, whose proud possessions spread 
 O'er earth's rich surface to no space confined 1 
 
 Ve learn'd in arts.jn men, in manners read, 
 Who boast as wide an empire o'er the mind, 
 
 With reverence visit her august domain ; 
 
 To her unlettered memory bow the knee ; 
 She found that happiness you seek in vain, 
 
 Blest with a cottage, and a single Tree.* 
 
 Mason would have produced a better in- 
 scription upon this subject, in the same 
 strain ; Southey in a different one ; Crabbe 
 would have treated it with more strength ; 
 Bowles with a finer feeling ; so would his 
 kinswoman and namesake Caroline, than 
 whom no author or authoress has ever writ- 
 ten more touchingly, either in prose or verse. 
 Wordsworth would have made a picture from 
 it worthy of a place in the great Gallery of 
 his Recluse. But Whitehead's is a remark- 
 able poem, considering that it was produced 
 during what has been not unjustly called 
 the neap tide of English poetry : and the 
 reader who should be less pleased with it 
 than offended by its faults, may have cause 
 to suspect that his refinement has injured 
 his feelings in a greater degree than it has 
 improved his taste. 
 
 * The Classical reader will be aware that the Author of 
 these lines had Claudian's " Old Man of Verona" in his 
 mind's eye, as Claudian had Virgil's " Corycian Old 
 Man." Georg. ir. 127. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXXIIL 
 
 THE PETTY GERMAN PRINCES EXCELLENT 
 PATRONS OF LITERATURE AND LEARNED 
 MEN. THE DUKE OF SAXE WEIMAR. QUOTA- 
 TION FROM BISHOP HACKET. AN OPINION 
 OF THE EXCELLENT MR. BOYLE. A TENET 
 OF THE DEAN OF CHALON, PIERRE DE 
 ST. JULIEN, AND A VERITABLE PLANTA- 
 GENET. 
 
 Ita nati estis, ut bona malaque veslra ad Rempublfcam 
 pertineant. TACITUS. 
 
 " WE have long been accustomed to laugh 
 at the pride and poverty of petty German 
 Princes," says one of the most sensible and 
 right-minded travellers that ever published 
 the result of his observations in Germany f ; 
 " but nothing," he proceeds, " can give a 
 higher idea of the respectability which so 
 small a people may assume, and the quantity 
 of happiness which one of these insignificant 
 monarchs may diffuse around him, than the 
 example of the little state of Weimar, with 
 a prince like the present J Grand Duke at 
 its head. The mere pride of sovereignty, 
 frequently most prominent where there is 
 only the title to justify it, is unknown to 
 him; he is the most affable man in his 
 dominions, not simply with the condescen- 
 sion which any prince can learn to practise 
 as a useful quality, but from goodness of 
 heart." The whole population of his state 
 little if at all exceeds that of Leicestershire; 
 his capital is smaller than a third or fourth 
 rate country town ; so in fact it scarcely 
 deserves the name of a town ; and the in- 
 habitants, vain as they are of its well-earned 
 reputation as the German Athens, take a 
 pride in having it considered merely a large 
 village : his revenue is less than that of 
 many a British Peer, great Commoner, or 
 commercial Millionist. Yet " while the 
 treasures of more weighty potentates were 
 insufficient to meet the necessities of their 
 political relations, his confined revenues 
 could give independence and careless leisure 
 to the men who were gaining for Germany 
 
 t RUSSELL. 
 
 t A. D. 1822.
 
 630 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 its intellectual reputation." It is not too 
 much to say that for that intellectual re- 
 putation, high as it is, and lasting as it will 
 be, Germany is little less beholden to the 
 Duke of Weimar's well-bestowed patronage, 
 than to the genius of Wieland, and Schiller, 
 and Goethe. " In these little principalities, 
 the same goodness of disposition can work 
 with more proportional effect than if it 
 swayed the sceptre of an empire ; it comes 
 more easily and directly into contact with 
 those towards whom it should be directed : 
 the artificial world of courtly rank and 
 wealth has neither sufficient glare nor body 
 to shut out from the prince the more 
 chequered world that lies below." 
 
 Alas no Prince either petty or great has 
 followed the Duke of Saxe Weimar's ex- 
 ample ! " He dwells," says Mr. Downes, 
 " like an estated gentleman, surrounded by 
 his tenantry." Alas no British Peer, great 
 Commoner, or commercial Millionist, has 
 given to any portion of his ampler revenues 
 a like beneficent direction. 
 
 A good old Bishop * quoting the text " not 
 many wise men after the flesh, not many 
 mighty, not many noble are called," cautions 
 us against distorting the Scripture as if it 
 pronounced nothing but confusion to the 
 rulers of the earth : " let not the honourable 
 person," said he, " hang down his head, as if 
 power and wisdom, and noble blood, and 
 dignity, were causes of rejection before God : 
 no, beloved! Isaiah foretold that Kings 
 should be nursing fathers, and Queens 
 should be nursing mothers of the Church, 
 but it is often seen that the benignity of 
 nature and the liberality of fortune are 
 made impediments to a better life ; and, 
 therefore, Nobles and Princes are more 
 frequently threatened with judgment. I ad- 
 join moreover that the Scriptures speak more 
 flatly against illustrious Magistrates, than 
 the common sort ; for if God had left it to 
 men, whose tongues are prostituted to flat- 
 tery, they had scarce been told that their 
 abominable sins would bring damnation." 
 
 When our philosopher considered the 
 
 * BISHOP RACKET. 
 
 manner in which large incomes are ex- 
 pended, (one way he had opportunities 
 enough of observing at Doncaster,) he 
 thought that in these times high birth 
 brought with it dangers and evils which in 
 many or most instances more than counter- 
 balanced its advantages. 
 
 That excellent person Mr. Boyle had 
 formed a different opinion. To be the son 
 of a Peer whose prosperity had found many 
 admirers, but few parallels, and not to be 
 his eldest son, was a happiness that he used 
 to "mention with great expressions of grati- 
 tude ; his birth, he said, so suiting his in- 
 clinations and designs, that, had he been 
 permitted an election, his choice would scarce 
 have altered God's assignment. For as on 
 the one side, a lower birth would have too 
 much exposed him to the inconveniences of 
 a mean descent, which are too notorious to 
 need specifying ; so on the other side, to a 
 person whose humour indisposes him to the 
 distracting hurry of the world, the being 
 born heir to a great family is but a glittering 
 kind of slavery, whilst obliging him to a 
 public entangled course of life, to support 
 the credit of his family, and tying him from 
 satisfying his dearest inclinations, it often 
 forces him to build the advantages of his 
 house upon the ruins of his own content- 
 ment." 
 
 "A man of mean extraction," he con- 
 tinues, " is seldom admitted to the privacy 
 and secrets of great ones promiscuously, and 
 scarce dares pretend to it, for fear of being 
 censured saucy, or an intruder. And titular 
 greatness is ever an impediment to the know- 
 ledge of many retired truths, that cannot 
 be attained without familiarity with meaner 
 persons, and such other condescensions, as 
 fond opinion, in great men, disapproves and 
 makes disgraceful." " But he himself," Mr. 
 Boyle said, "was born in a condition that 
 neither was high enough to prove a tempta- 
 tion to laziness, nor low enough to discourage 
 him from aspiring." And certainly to a 
 person that affected so much an universal 
 knowledge, and arbitrary vicissitudes of quiet 
 and employments, it could not be unwel- 
 come to be of a quality that was a handsome
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 631 
 
 stirrup to preferment, without an obligation 
 to court it, and which might at once both 
 protect his higher pretensions from the guilt 
 of ambition, and secure his retiredness from 
 contempt. 
 
 There would be more and higher advan- 
 tages in high birth than Mr. Boyle appre- 
 hended, if the Dean of Chalon, Pierre de 
 St. Julien, were right when he maintained 
 contre V opinion des Philosophes, et Vordi- 
 naire des Predicaments, que la vraye No- 
 blesse a sa source du sang, et est substancidle. 
 
 Ces mots Gentilhomme de sang, et d'armes, 
 de race genereuse, de bonne part, <$c., says 
 the well-born Dean, who in his title pages 
 let us know that he was de la maison de Bol- 
 leurre, sont ternies non de qualite, ny d'habi- 
 tiide ; ains importants substance de vray, 
 comme il est bien dit, 
 
 veniunt cum sanguine mores ; 
 
 et aillieurs, 
 
 Q.ui virct infaliis venit 11 radicibus humor ; 
 Sic palrum in natos abcunt cum setninc mores. 
 
 Et comme le sang est le vehiculc, etporteur 
 des esprits de vie, esquels est enclose la sub- 
 stance de lame ; aussi est il le comme chariot, 
 qui porte et soustient celle substance qui de- 
 coule des peres, et des ayeulx, par long ordre 
 de generation, et provient aux en/ants, qui, 
 nez de bonne et gentille semence, sont (confor- 
 mement d ^opinion du divin Philosophe Pla- 
 tori) rendu tels que leurs progeniteurs, par la 
 vertu des esprits enclosen la semence. Telle- 
 ment quon ne peut nyer, que comme d"une 
 bonne Ayre sortent de bans oyseaux, dun bon 
 Haras de bons chevaux, SfC., aussi il importe 
 beaucoup aux hommes dlestre nez de bons et 
 valeureux parents ; noire tant, que les mal 
 nez, ennemys de ceste bien naissance, ne sont 
 suffisants pour enjuger. 
 
 Sir Robert Cotton once met with a man 
 driving the plough, who was a true and un- 
 doubted Plantagenet. " That worthy Doc- 
 tor," (Dr. Hervey) says that worthy Fuller, 
 (dignissimus of being so styled himself,) 
 " hath made many converts in physic to his 
 seeming paradox, maintaining the circulation 
 of blood running round about the body of 
 man. Nor is it less true that gentle blood 
 fetcheth a circuit in the body of a nation, 
 
 running from Yeomanry, through Gentry 
 to Nobility, and so retrograde, returning 
 through Gentry to Yeomanry again." 
 
 Plust a Dieu, said Maistre Frangois Ra- 
 belais, of facetious memory, quun chacun 
 saust aussi certainement (as Gargantua that 
 is,) sa genealogie, depuis fArche de Noe, 
 jusqitd cet age ! Je pense que plusieurs sont 
 aujourd'hui Empereurs, Boys, Dues, Princes 
 et Papes en la terre, lesquels sont descendus 
 de quelques Porteurs de rogutons et de con- 
 strets. Comme au rebours plusieurs sont 
 gueux de Vhostiere, soiiffreteux et miserables, 
 lesquels sont descendus de sang et ligne de 
 grands Roys et Empereurs ; attends radmi- 
 rable transport des Regnes et Empires 
 
 Des Assyriens, es Mcdes ; 
 Des Medes, es Per self 
 Des Perses, is Macedonicns ; 
 Des Mucedoniens, es Grecs ,- 
 Des Grecs, es Francois. 
 
 Et pour vous donner a entendre de moy 
 qui vous parle, je cuide que suis descendu de 
 quelque riche Roy, ou Prince, au temps jadis ; 
 car oncques ne vistes hornme qui eust plus 
 grande affection d'estre Roy ou riche que moy, 
 afin de faire grand chere, pas ne trauailler, 
 point ne me soucier et bien enrichir mes amis, 
 et tous gens de bien et de sqavoir. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXXIV. 
 
 OPINION OF A MODERN DIVINE UPON THE 
 WHEREABOUT OF NEWLY-DEPARTED SPI- 
 RITS. ST. JOHN'S BURIAL, ONE RELIC ONLY 
 OF THAT SAINT, AND WHEREFORE. A TALE 
 CONCERNING ABRAHAM, ADAM AND EVE. 
 
 Je Sfay qu'il y a plusieurs qui diront que je fais beau- 
 coup de petits fats conies, dont je m'en passerois bien. 
 Ouy, bien pour aucuns, mats non pour moy, me con- 
 tentant de m'fn renouveller le souvenance, et en lirer 
 autant de plaisir. BRANT6MK. 
 
 WATTS, who came to the odd conclusion in 
 his Philosophical Essay, that there may be 
 Spirits which must be said in strict philoso- 
 phy to be nowhere, endeavoured to explain 
 what he called the ubi or whereness of those 
 spirits which are in a more imaginable situa- 
 tion. While man is alive, the soul he thought
 
 632 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 might be said to be in his brain, because 
 the seat of consciousness seems to be there ; 
 but as soon as it is dislodged from that local 
 habitation by death, it finds itself at once 
 iii a heaven or hell of its own, and this 
 " without any removal or relation to place, 
 or change of distances." The shell is broken, 
 the veil is withdrawn ; it is where it was, 
 but in a different mode of existence, in the 
 pure intellectual, or separate world. " It 
 reflects upon its own temper and actions in 
 this life, it is conscious of its virtues, or its 
 vices," and it has an endless spring of peace 
 and joy within, or is tormented with the 
 anguish of self-condemnation. 
 
 In his speculations the separation of soul 
 from body is total, till their reunion at the 
 day of judgement; and this unquestionably 
 is the Christian belief. The fablers of all 
 religions have taken a different view, be- 
 cause at all times and in all countries they 
 have accommodated their fictions to the 
 notions of the people. The grave is with 
 them a place of rest, or of suffering. If 
 Young had been a Jew, a Mahommedan, or 
 a Roman Catholic, he might be understood 
 as speaking literally when he says, 
 
 How populous, how vital is the grave. 
 
 St. Augustine had been assured by what 
 he considered no light testimony that St. 
 John was not dead, but asleep in his sepul- 
 chre, and that the motion of his breast as he 
 breathed might be perceived by a gentle 
 movement of the earth. The words of our 
 Lord after his Resurrection, concerning the 
 beloved disciple, "If I will that he tarry 
 till I come, what is that to thee," gave scope 
 to conjecture concerning the fate of this 
 Evangelist, and yet in some degree set 
 bounds to that spirit of lying invention 
 which in process of time annexed as many 
 fables to corrupted Christianity as the Greek 
 and Roman poets had engrafted upon their 
 heathenism, or the Rabbis upon the Jewish 
 faith. " Sinner that I am," said a French 
 prelate with demure irony, when a head of 
 St. John the Baptist was presented to him 
 to kiss in some Church of which it was the 
 choicest treasure, " sinner that I am, this 
 is the fourth head of the glorious Baptist 
 
 that I have had the happiness of holding in 
 these unworthy hands ! " But while some 
 half dozen or half score of these heads were 
 produced, because it was certain that the 
 Saint had been beheaded, no relic of St. 
 John the Evangelist's person, nor of the 
 Virgin Mary's, was ever invented. The 
 story of the Assumption precluded any 
 such invention in the one case, and in St. 
 John's the mysterious uncertainty of his 
 fate had the same effect as this received 
 tradition. The Benedictines of St. Claude's 
 Monastery in the Jura exhibited his own 
 manuscript of the Apocalypse, (the most 
 learned of that order in no unlearned age 
 believed or affected to believe that it was 
 his actual autograph,) and they consi- 
 dered that it was greatly enhanced in value 
 by its being the only relic of that Saint in 
 existence. 
 
 The fable which St. Augustine seems to 
 have believed was either parent or child of 
 the story told under the name of Abdias, 
 that when the Beloved Disciple had attained 
 the postdiluvian age of ninety- seven, our 
 Lord appeared to him, said unto him, 
 " come unto me, that thou inayest partake 
 at my feast with thy brethren," and fixed 
 the next Sunday, being Easter, for his re- 
 moval from this world. On that Sunday 
 accordingly, the Evangelist, after having 
 performed service in his own temple at 
 Ephesus, and exhorted the people, told some 
 of his chosen disciples to take with them 
 two mattocks and spade, and accompany 
 him therewith. They went to a place near 
 the city, where he had been accustomed to 
 pray; there he bade them dig a grave, and 
 when they would have ceased from the 
 work, he bade them dig it still deeper. 
 Then taking off all his garments except a 
 linen vestment, he spread them in the grave, 
 laid himself down upon them, ordered his 
 disciples to cover him up, and forthwith fell 
 asleep in the Lord. Abdias proceeds no 
 farther with the story ; but other ecclesiastic 
 romancers add that the evangelist enjoined 
 them to open the grave on the day follow- 
 ing ; they did so and found nothing but his 
 garments, for the Blessed Virgin, in recom-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 633 
 
 pence for the filial piety which he had 
 manifested towards her in obedience to our 
 Lord's injunctions from the cross, had ob- 
 tained for him the privilege of an Assump- 
 tion like her own. Baronius has no objec- 
 tion to believe this ; but that St. John 
 actually died is, he says, more than certain, 
 certo certius ; and that his grave at 
 Ephesus was proof of it, for certe non nisi 
 mortuomm solent esse sepulchra. 
 
 Yet the Cardinal knew that the historian 
 of his Church frequently represented the 
 dead as sentient in their graves. The Jews 
 have some remarkable legends founded upon 
 the same notion. It is written in the book 
 of Zohar, say the Rabbis, how when Abra- 
 ham had made a covenant with the people 
 of the land, and was about to make a feast 
 for them, a calf, which was to be slaughtered 
 on the occasion, broke loose and ran into 
 the cave of Machpelah. Abraham followed, 
 and, having entered the cave in pursuit, 
 there he discovered the bodies of Adam and 
 Eve, each on a bed, with lamps burning be- 
 tween them. They were sleeping the sleep 
 of death, and there was a good odour around 
 them, like the odour of repose. In conse- 
 quence of having made this discovery it was 
 that he desired to purchase the cave for his 
 own burial-place ; and when the sons of 
 Jebus refused to sell it, he fell upon his 
 knees, and bowed himself before them, till 
 they were entreated. When he came to 
 deposit the body of Sarah there, Adam and 
 Eve rose up, and refused their consent. The 
 reason which they gave for this unexpected 
 prohibition was, that they were already in a 
 state of reproach before the Lord, because 
 of their transgression, and a farther reproach 
 would be brought upon them by a com- 
 parison with his good deeds, if they allowed 
 such company to be introduced into their 
 resting-place. But Abraham took upon him- 
 self to answer for that ; upon this they were 
 satisfied with his assurances, and composed 
 themselves again to their long sleep. 
 
 The Rabbis may be left to contend for 
 the authority of the book of Zohar in this 
 particular against the story of the Cabalists 
 that Adam's bones were taken into the Ark, 
 
 and divided afterwards by Noah among his 
 sons. The skull fell to Shem's portion ; lie 
 burnt it on the mountain, which, for that 
 reason, obtained the name of Golgotha, or 
 Calvary, being interpreted, the place of a 
 skull, and on that spot, for mystical signifi- 
 cation, the cross whereon our Saviour suf- 
 fered was erected; a wild legend, on which 
 as wild a fiction has been grafted, that a 
 branch from the Tree of Life had been 
 planted on Adam's grave, and from the wood 
 which that branch had produced the cross 
 was made. 
 
 And against either of these the authority 
 of Rabbi Judas Bar Simon is to be opposed, 
 for he affirms that the dust of Adam was 
 washed away by the Deluge, and utterly 
 dispersed. 
 
 The Rabbis have also to establish the 
 credit of their own tradition against that of 
 the Arabs, who, at this time, show Eve's 
 grave near Jeddah ; about three days' 
 journey east from that place, according to 
 Bruce. He says it is covered with green 
 sods, and about fifty yards in length. The 
 Cashmerian traveller Abdulkurreem, who 
 visited it in 1742, says that it measured an 
 hundred and ninety-seven of his footsteps, 
 which would make the mother of mankind 
 much taller than Bruce's measurement. He 
 likens it to a flower-bed ; on the middle of 
 the grave there was then a small dome, and 
 the ends of it were enclosed with wooden 
 pales. Burckhardt did not visit it ; he was 
 told that it was about two miles only, north- 
 ward of the town, and that it was a rude 
 structure of stone, some four feet in length, 
 two or three in height, and as many in 
 breadth, thus resembling the tomb of Noah, 
 which is shown in the valley of Bekaa, in 
 Syria. Thus widely do these modern travel- 
 lers, on any one of whom reasonable re- 
 liance might have been placed, differ in the 
 account of the same thing.
 
 634 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXXV. 
 
 THE SHORTEST AND PLEASANTEST WAT FROM 
 DONCASTER TO JEDDAH, WITH MANY MORE, 
 TOO LONG. 
 
 llimf -xlna triitt Qif'.l, 
 llix. -roi yij ovx IjicH ey* 
 
 SOPHOCLES. 
 
 WE have got from the West Riding of 
 Yorkshire, to the Eastern shore of the Red 
 Sea, without the assistance of mail-coach, 
 steam-packet, or air-balloon, the magical 
 carpet, the wishing-cap, the shoes of swift- 
 ness, or the seven-leagued boots. From 
 Mr. Bacon's vicarage we have got to Eve's 
 grave, not per saltum, by any sudden, or 
 violent transition ; but by following the 
 stream of thought. We shall get back in 
 the same easy manner to that vicarage, and 
 to the quiet churchyard wherein the remains 
 of one of the sweetest and for the few latter 
 years of her short life, one of the happiest 
 of Eve's daughters, were deposited in sure 
 and certain hope. If you are in the mood 
 for a Chapter upon Churchyards, go, reader, 
 to those which Caroline Bowles has written ; 
 you will find in them everything that can 
 touch the heart, everything that can sanctify 
 the affections, unalloyed by anything that 
 can offend a pure taste and a masculine 
 judgement. 
 
 But before we find our way back we must 
 tarry awhile among the tombs, and converse 
 with the fablers of old. 
 
 A young and lovely Frenchwoman after 
 visiting the Columbarium near the Villa 
 Albani, expressed her feelings strongly upon 
 our custom of interring the dead, as com- 
 pared with the urn-burial of the ancients. 
 Usage odieux, said she, qui rend la mort 
 horrible! Si les anciens en avaient moins 
 d'eff'roi, c'est que la coutume de bruler les 
 corps derobait au trepas tout ce qrfil a de 
 hideux. Quil etait consolant et doux de 
 pouvoir pleurer sur des cendres cheries! 
 Quil est epouvantable et dechirant aujourd" hui 
 de penser que celui quHon a tant aime rioffre 
 plus qu'une image affreuse et decharnee dont 
 on ne pourrait supporter la vue. 
 
 The lady in whose journal these lines were 
 
 written lies buried in the Campo Santo at 
 Milan, with the following inscription on her 
 tomb ; Priez pour une jeune Francahe que 
 la mort a frappee a vingt ans, comme elle 
 allait, apres un voyage de huit mois avec un 
 epoux cheri, revoir son enfant, son pere et sa 
 mere, qui venaient joyeux au-devant d'elle. 
 Her husband wished to have her remains 
 burnt, in conformity to her own opinion 
 respecting the disposal of the dead, and to 
 his own feelings at the time, that he might 
 have carried her ashes to his own country, 
 and piously have preserved them there, to 
 weep over them, and bequeath them to his 
 son ; mais les amis qui m entouraient, he says, 
 combatterent mon desir, comme une inspira- 
 tion insensee de la douleur. 
 
 There can be no doubt that our ghastly 
 personification of Death has been derived 
 from the practice of interment ; and that of 
 all modes in which the dead have ever been 
 disposed of, cremation is in some respects 
 the best. But this mode, were it generally 
 practicable, would in common use be ac- 
 companied with more revolting circum- 
 stances than that which has now become the 
 Christian usage. Some abominations, how- 
 ever, it would have prevented, and though 
 in place of those superstitions which it pre- 
 cluded others would undoubtedly have arisen, 
 they would have been of a less loathsome 
 character. 
 
 The Moors say that the dead are disturbed 
 if their graves be trodden on by Christian 
 feet ; the Rabbis that they feel the worms 
 devouring them. 
 
 On the south side of the city of Erzeroom 
 is a mountain called Eyerli, from the same 
 likeness which has obtained for one of the 
 English mountains the unpoetical name of 
 Saddleback. The Turkish traveller Evlia 
 Effendi saw on the top of this mountain a 
 tomb eighty paces in length, with two 
 columns marking the place of the head and 
 of the feet. " I was looking on the tomb," 
 he says, " when a bad smell occurred very 
 hurtfully to my nose, and to that of my ser- 
 vant who held the horses ; and looking near, 
 I then saw that the earth of the grave, which 
 was greasy and black, was boiling, like gruel
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 635 
 
 in a pan. I returned then, and having re- 
 lated my adventures in the evening in com- 
 pany with the Pashaw, Djaafer Effendi of 
 Erzeroom, a learned man and an elegant- 
 writer, warned me not to visit the place 
 again, for it was the grave of Balaam the son 
 of Beor, who died an infidel, under the curse 
 of Moses, and whose grave was kept always 
 in this state by subterraneous fires." 
 
 When Wheler was at Constantinople, he 
 noticed a monument in the fairest and largest 
 street of that city, the cupola of which was 
 covered with an iron grating. It was the 
 tomb of Mahomet Cupriuli, father to the 
 then Grand Vizier. He had not been scru- 
 pulous as to the means by which he settled 
 the government during the Grand Seignior's 
 minority, and carried it on afterwards, quell- 
 ing the discontents and factions of the prin- 
 cipal Agas, and the mutinies of the Jani- 
 zaries. Concerning him after his decease, 
 says this traveller, " being buried here, and 
 having this stately monument of white 
 marble covered with lead erected over his 
 body, the Grand Seigneur and Vizier had 
 this dream both in the same night, to wit, 
 that he came to them and earnestly begged 
 of them a little water to refresh him, being 
 in a burning heat. Of this the Grand Seig- 
 neur and Vizier told each other in the 
 morning, and thereupon thought fit to con- 
 sult the Mufti what to do concerning it. 
 The Mufti, according to their gross super- 
 stition, advised that thereof of his sepulchre 
 should be uncovered, that the rain might 
 descend on his body, thereby to quench the 
 flames which were tormenting his soul. And 
 this remedy the people who smarted under 
 his oppression think he had great need of, 
 supposing him to be tormented in the other 
 world for his tyrannies and cruelties com- 
 mitted by him in this." 
 
 If Cupriuli had been a Russian instead of 
 a Turk, his body would have been provided 
 with a passport before it was committed to 
 the grave. Peter Henry Bruce in his curi- 
 ous memoirs gives the form of one which in 
 the reign of Peter the Great, always before 
 the coffin of a Russian was closed, was put 
 between the fingers of the corpse : " We N. 
 
 N. do certify by these presents that the 
 bearer hereof hath always lived among us as 
 became a good Christian, professing the 
 Greek religion ; and although he may have 
 committed some sins, he hath confessed the 
 same, whereupon he hath received absolu- 
 tion, and taken the communion for the re- 
 mission of sins : That he hath honoured God 
 and his Saints ; that he hath not neglected 
 his prayers ; and hath fasted on the hours 
 and days appointed by the Church : That he 
 hath always behaved himself towards me, 
 his Confessor, in such a manner that I have 
 no reason to complain of him, or to refuse 
 him the absolution of his sins. In witness 
 whereof I have given him these testimonials, 
 to the end that St. Peter upon sight of them, 
 may not deny him the opening of the gate 
 to eternal bliss ! " 
 
 The custom evidently implies an opinion 
 that though soul and body were disunited by 
 death, they kept close company together till 
 after the burial ; otherwise a passport which 
 the Soul was to present at Heaven's gate 
 would not have been placed in the hands of 
 the corpse. In the superstitions of the 
 Romish church a re-union is frequently sup- 
 posed, but that there is an immediate sepa- 
 ration upon death is an article of faith, and 
 it is represented by Sir Thomas More as one 
 of the punishments for a sinful soul to be 
 brought from Purgatory and made to attend, 
 an unseen spectator, at the funeral of its own 
 body, and feel the mockery of all the pomps 
 and vanities used upon that occasion. The 
 passage is in his Supplycacyon of Soulys. 
 One of the Supplicants from Purgatory 
 speaks : 
 
 " Some hath there of us, while we were 
 in health, not so much studied how we might 
 die penitent, and in good Christian plight, 
 as how we might solemnly be borne out to 
 burying, have gay and goodly funerals, with 
 heralds at our herses, and offering up our 
 helmets, setting up our scutcheons and coat- 
 armours on the wall, though there never came 
 harness on our backs, nor never ancestor of 
 ours ever bare arms before. Then devised 
 we some Doctor to make a sermon at our 
 mass in our month's mind, and then preach
 
 636 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 to our praise with some fond fantasy devised 
 of our name ; and after mass, much feasting, 
 riotous and costly ; and finally, like madmen, 
 made men merry at our death, and take our 
 burying for a brideale. For special punish- 
 ment whereof, some of us have been by our 
 Evil Angels brought forth full heavily, in 
 full great despight to behold our own bury- 
 ing, and so, stand in great pain, invisible 
 among the press, and made to look on our 
 carrion corpse, carried out with great pomp, 
 whereof our Lord knoweth we have taken 
 heavy pleasure ! " 
 
 In opposition to this there is a Rabbinical 
 story which shows that though the Jews 
 did not attribute so much importance to the 
 rites of sepulture as the ancient Greeks, 
 they nevertheless thought that a parsimo- 
 nious interment occasioned some uncom- 
 fortable consequences to the dead. 
 
 A pious descendant of Abraham, whom 
 his wife requited with a curtain lecture for 
 having, as she thought improvidently, given 
 alms to a poor person in a time of dearth, 
 left his house, and went out to pass the 
 remainder of the night among the tombs, 
 that he might escape from her objurgations. 
 There he overheard a conversation between 
 the Spirits of two young women, not long 
 deceased. The one said, " come let us go 
 through the world, and then listen behind 
 the curtain and hear what chastisements 
 are decreed for it." The other made 
 answer, " I cannot go, because I have been 
 buried in a mat made of reeds, but go you, 
 and bring me account of what you hear." 
 Away went the Ghost whose grave-clothes 
 were fit to appear in : and when she re- 
 turned, " well friend, what have you heard 
 behind the curtain ? " said the ghost in the 
 reed-mat. " I heard," replied the gad-about 
 " that whatever shall be sown in the first 
 rains will be stricken with hail." Away 
 went the alms-giver ; and upon this in- 
 telligence, which was more certain than any 
 prognostication in the Almanack, he waited 
 till the second rains before he sowed his 
 field ; all other fields were struck with hail, 
 but according as he had expected his crop 
 escaped. 
 
 Next year, on the anniversary of the 
 night which had proved so fortunate to him, 
 ic went again to the Tombs : and overheard 
 another conversation between the same 
 ghosts to the same purport. The well-dressed 
 host went through the world, listened 
 behind the curtain, and brought back infor- 
 mation that whatever should be sown in the 
 iccond rains would be smitten with rust. 
 Away went the good man, and sowed his 
 field in the first rains ; all other crops were 
 spoiled with the rust, and only his escaped. 
 His wife then inquired of him how it had 
 happened that in two successive years he 
 had sown his fields at a different time from 
 everybody else, and on both occasions his 
 were the only crops that had been saved. 
 He made no secret to her of his adventures, 
 but told her how he had come to the know- 
 ledge which had proved so beneficial. Ere 
 long his wife happened to quarrel with the 
 mother of the poor ghost who was obliged 
 to keep her sepulchre ; and the woman of 
 unruly tongue, among other insults, bade 
 her go and look at her daughter, whom she 
 had buried in a reed-mat ! Another anni- 
 versary came round, and the good man went 
 again to the Tomb ; but he went this time 
 in vain, for when the well-dressed Ghost 
 repeated her invitation, the other made 
 answer, " let me alone, my friend, the words 
 which have passed between you and me have 
 been heard among the living." 
 
 The learned Cistercian * to whom I owe 
 this legend, expresses his contempt for it ; 
 nevertheless he infers from it that the spirits 
 of the dead know what passes in this world ; 
 and that the doctrine of the Romish Church 
 upon that point is proved by this tradition 
 to have been that of the Synagogue also. 
 
 The Mahommedans, who adopted so many 
 of the Rabbinical fables, dispensed in one 
 case, for reasons of obvious convenience, 
 with all ceremonies of sepulchral costume. 
 For the funeral of their martyrs, by which 
 appellation all Musselmen who fell in battle 
 against the unbelievers were honoured, none 
 of those preparations were required, which 
 
 * BBRTOLACCI.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 637 
 
 were necessary for those who die a natural 
 death. A martyr needs not to be washed 
 after his death, nor to be enveloped in 
 grave-clothes ; his own blood with which he 
 is besmeared serves him for all legal puri- 
 fication, and he may be wrapped in his robe, 
 and buried immediately after the funeral 
 prayer, conformably to the order of the 
 Prophet, who has said, " bury them as they 
 are, in their garments, and in their blood ! 
 Wash them not, for their wounds will smell 
 of musk on the Day of Judgement." 
 
 A man of Medina, taking leave of his 
 wife as he was about to go to the wars, com- 
 mended to the Lord her unborn babe. She 
 died presently afterwards, and every night 
 there appeared a brilliant light upon the 
 middle of her tomb. The husband hearing 
 of this upon his return, hastened to the 
 place ; the sepulchre opened of itself; the 
 wife sate up in her winding-sheet, and 
 holding out to him a boy in her arms, said 
 to him take " that which thou comrnendedst 
 to the Lord. Hadst thou commended us 
 both, thou shouldest have found us both 
 alive." So saying she delivered to him the 
 living infant, and laid herself down, and the 
 sepulchre closed over her. 
 
 * * 
 
 PAHS IMPERFECTA MANEBAT Virg. JEn. 
 
 TJie following materials, printed verbatim 
 from the MS. Collection, were to have com- 
 pleted the Chapter. It has been thought 
 advisable in the present instance to show how 
 the lamented Southey worked up the collection 
 of years. Each extract is on a separate 
 slip of paper, and some of them appear to 
 have been made from thirty to forty years 
 ago, more or less. 
 
 And so the virtue of his youth before 
 Was in his age the ground of his delight. 
 
 JAMES I. 
 
 ~E9tt $i S&y/Xou T&f 
 "O; pa, r 'Au.a 
 
 "A-i/ itiat (dr, yitf <rvta.tr,X<j6it 'H(xxXrii) 
 ~&'f.-f,u.lin; la xtiiBtt if' ay%ta\ov Qittt OLXTT,;. 
 Oil /tit Brp TjoT'jai itttuJTftW ?,xt yx( <niir>i 
 fago-iQe**! 'fyvx,*!* tro}.v$et.X{vcv 'AxTogiSete 
 
 Tvuilov it ffTtQatve ivifict 
 
 T7o; !ai uot 
 
 i Jj 
 
 ftit 
 
 Oi J' tutor, ij.it xfcwriut /.ctifc; nreifar, ix 31 j 
 
 APOLLOSirS RUODIDS. 
 
 The Abaza (a Circassian tribe) have a strange way of 
 burying their Beys. They put the body in a coffin of wood, 
 which they nation the branches of some high trees and 
 make a hole in the coffin by the head, that tlie Bey, as they 
 say, may look unto Heaven. Bees enter the coffin, and 
 make lioney, and cover the body with their comb : If the 
 season comes they open the coffin, take out the honey and 
 sell it, therefore much caution is necessary r.gainst the 
 honey of the Abazas. KVI.IA EFFENDI. 
 
 Once in their life time, the Jews say, they are bound by 
 the Law of Moses to go to the Holy Land, if they can, or 
 be able, and the bones of many dead Jews are carried 
 there, and there burnt. We were fraughted witli wools 
 from Constantinople to Sidon, in which sacks, as most 
 certainly was told to me, were many Jew's bones put into 
 little chests, but unknown to any of the ship. The Jews 
 our Merchants told me of them at my return from Jeru- 
 salem to Saphet, but earnestly intreated me not to tell it, 
 for fear of preventing them anotiier time. 
 
 Going on, one of my companions said, if you will take 
 the trouble of going a little out of the way, you will see a 
 most remarkable thing. Well, said I, what should be the 
 object of all pains taken in travelling, if it were not to ad. 
 mire the works of God. So we went on for an hour to the 
 north, but not taking the great road leading to the Plain of 
 Moosh, we advanced to a high rock that is a quarter of an 
 hour out of the road. To this rock, high like a tower, a 
 man was formerly chained, whose bones are yet preserved 
 in the chains. Both bones and chains are in a high state 
 of preservation. The bones of the arms are from seven 
 to eight cubits in length, of an astonishing thickness. The 
 skull is like the cupola of a bath, and a man may creep in 
 and out without pain through the eye-holes. Eagles 
 nestle in them. These bones are said to be those of a 
 faithful man who in Abraham's time was chained by 
 Nimrod to this rock, in order to be burnt by fire. The 
 fire calcined part of his body, so that it melted in one part 
 with the rock ; but the arms and legs are stretching forth 
 to the example of posterity. We have no doubt that they 
 will rise again into life at the sound of the trumpet on the 
 day of judgement. EVLIA EFFENDI. 
 
 The Magistrates of Leghorn have authority to issue out 
 orders for killing dogs if they abound too much in the 
 streets, and molest the inhabitants. The men entrusted 
 with the execution of these orders go through the city in 
 the night, and drop small bits of poisoned bread in the 
 streets. These are eaten by the dogs and instantaneously 
 kill them. Before sunrise the same men go through the 
 streets with a cart, gather hundreds of the dead dogs, and 
 carry them to the Jew's burying-ground without the 
 town. HASSELQCIST. 
 
 In the ROMANCE OF MEHLIN it is said that before the 
 time of Christ, Adam and Eve and the whole ancient 
 world were (not in Limbo) but actually in Hell. And that 
 when the Prophets comforted the souls under their suf- 
 ferings by telling them of the appointed Redeemer, the 
 Devils for that reason tormented these Prophets more 
 than others. The Devils themselves tell the story, et
 
 638 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Us tourmentions plus que Its autres. Et ilz faisoycnt 
 semblant qne nostre tourment ne les grevoit riens ; 
 ainfuis comfortoyent les aultres pccheurs et disoyent. Le 
 Saulveur de tout le monde viendra qui tous nous deli- 
 vrera. 
 
 At the time of the deluge the wife of Noah being preg- 
 nant, was through the hardships of the voyage delivered 
 of a dead child to which the name of Tarh was given, be- 
 cause the letters of this word form the number 217, which 
 was the number of days he was carried by his mother 
 instead of the full time of 280 days, or nine months. This 
 child was buried in the district now called Djezere Ibn 
 Omar, the Island or Peninsula of the son of Omar, and 
 this was the first burial on earth after the deluge. And 
 Noah prayed unto the Lord, saying, Oh God, thou hast 
 given me a thousand years of life, and this child is dead 
 before it began to live on earth ! And he begged of the 
 Lord as a blessing given to the burial-place of his child, 
 that the women of this town might never miscarry, which 
 was granted ; so that since that time women, and female 
 animals of every kind in this town, are all blessed with 
 births in due time and long living. The length of the 
 grave of this untimely child of Noah is 40 feet and it is 
 visited by pilgrims. EVLIA EFPENDI. 
 
 They suppose that a few souls are peculiarly gifted with 
 the power of quitting their bodies, of mounting into the 
 skies, visiting distant countries, and again returning and 
 resuming them ; they call the mystery of prayer by which 
 this power is obtained, the Mandiram. CRAUPURD. 
 
 The plain of Kerbela is all desert, inhabited by none but 
 by the dead, and by roving wild hounds, the race of the 
 dogs which licked the blood of the martyrs, and which 
 since are doomed to wander through the wilderness. 
 
 EVLIA EFFENDI. 
 
 Shi whang, the K. of Tsin becoming Emperor, he chose 
 for his sepulchre the mountain Li, whose foundation he 
 caused to dig, if we may so speak, even to the centre of 
 the earth. On its surface he erected a mausoleum which 
 might pass for a mountain. It was five hundred feet high, 
 and at least half a league in circumference. On the out- 
 side was a vast tomb of stone, where one might walk as 
 easily as in the largest hall. In the middle was a sump- 
 tuous coffin, and all around there were lamps and flam- 
 beaux, whose flames were fed by human fat. Within this 
 tomb, there was upon one side a pond of quicksilver, 
 upon which were scattered birds of gold and silver ; on 
 the other a compleat magazine of moveables and arms ; 
 here and there were the most precious jewels in thou- 
 sands. Du HALDE. 
 
 Emududakel, the Messenger of Death, receives the Soul 
 as 'tis breathed out of the body into a kind of a sack, and 
 runs away with it through briars and thorns and burning 
 whirlwinds, which torment the Soul very sensibly, till he 
 arrives at the bank of a fiery current, through which he is 
 to pass to the other side in order to deliver the soul to 
 Emen, the God of the Dead. 
 
 LETTERS TO THE DANISH MISSIONARIES. 
 
 A curious story concerning the power which the Soul 
 has been supposed to possess of leaving the body, in a 
 risible form, may be found in the notes to the Vision of 
 the Maid of Orleans. A more extraordinary one occurs 
 in the singularly curious work of Evlia Effendi. 
 
 " Sultan Bajazet II. was a saint-monarch, like Sultan 
 Orkhaun, or Sultan Mustapha I. There exist different 
 works relating his miracles and deeds, but they are rare. 
 The last seven years of his life he ate nothing which had 
 blood and life. One day longing much to eat calf s or 
 
 mutton's feet, he struggled long in that glorious contest 
 with the Soul, and as at last a well-seasoned dish of feet 
 was put before him, he said unto his Soul, " See my Soul, 
 the feet are before thee, if thou wantest to enjoy them, 
 leave the body and feed on them." In the same moment 
 a living creature was seen to come out of his mouth, 
 which drank of the juice in the dish and having satisfied 
 its appetite, endeavoured to return into the mouth from 
 whence it came. But Bajazet having prevented it with 
 his hand to re-enter his mouth, it fell on the ground, 
 and the Sultan ordered it to be beaten. The Pages arrived 
 and kicked it dead on the ground. The Mufti of that 
 time decided that as the Soul was an essential part of man, 
 this dead Soul should be buried : prayers were performed 
 over it, and the dead Soul was interred in a small tomb 
 near Bajazet's tomb. This is the truth of the famous 
 story of Bajazet II. having died twice and having been 
 twice buried. After this murder of his own Soul, the 
 Sultan remained melancholy in the corner of retirement, 
 taking no part or interest in the affairs of government." 
 
 The same anecdote of the Soul coming out of the mouth 
 to relish a most desired dish, had already happened to the 
 Sheik Bajazet Bostaumi, who had much longed to eat 
 Mohallebi (a milk-dish), but Bajazet Bostaumi permitted 
 it to re-enter, and Sultan Bajazet killed it ; notwith- 
 standing which he continued to live for some time longer. 
 
 See Jossclyn for a similar tale. 
 
 When Mohammed took his journey upon Alborach, 
 Gabriel (said he) led me to the first Heaven, and the 
 Angels in that Heaven graciously received me, and they 
 beheld me with smiles and with joy, beseeching for me 
 things prosperous and pleasant. One alone among the 
 Angels there sat, who neither prayed for my prosperity, 
 nor smiled ; and Gabriel when I inquired of him who he 
 was, replied, never hath that Angel smiled, nor will smile, 
 he is the Keeper of the Fire ; and I said to him is this the 
 Angel who is called the well-beloved of God ? and he 
 replied, this is that Angel. Then said I bid him that he 
 show me the Fire, and Gabriel requesting him, he removed 
 the cover of the vessel of Fire, and the Fire ascending I 
 feared lest all things whatever that I saw should be con- 
 sumed, and I besought Gabriel that the Fire again might 
 be covered. And so the fire returned to its place, and 
 it seemed then as when the Sun sinks in the West, and the 
 gloomy Angel, remaining the same, covered up the Fire. 
 
 RODERICI XlMENES, ARC. TOL. IllST. ARAB. 
 
 Should a Moslem when praying, feel himself disposed 
 to gape, he is ordered to suppress the sensation as the 
 work of the Devil, and to close his mouth, lest the father 
 of iniquity should enter and take possession of his person. 
 It is curious that this opinion prevails also among the 
 Hindoos, who twirl their fingers close before their mouths 
 when gaping, to prevent an evil spirit from getting in that 
 way. GRIFFITHS. 
 
 In what part soever of the world they die and are 
 buried, their bodies must all rise to judgement in the 
 Holy Land, out of the valley of Jehosophat, which causeth 
 that the greater and richer sort of them have their bones 
 conveyed to some part hereof by their kindred or friends. 
 By which means they are freed of a labour to scrape 
 thither through the ground, which with their nails they 
 hold they must, who are not there buried, nor conveyed 
 thither by others. SANDERSON. PURCHAS. 
 
 The Russians in effecting a practicable road to China 
 discovered in lat. 50 N., between the rivers Irtish and 
 Obalet, a desert of very considerable extent, overspread 
 In many parts with Tumuli, or Barrows, which have been 
 also taken notice of by Mr. Bell and other writers. This
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 639 
 
 desert constitutes the southern boundary of Siberia. It is 
 said the borderers on the desert have, for many years, 
 continued to dig for the treasure deposited in these tumuli, 
 which still, however, remain unexhausted. We are told 
 that they find considerable quantities of gold, silver and 
 bra<s, and some precious stones, among ashes and re- 
 mains of dead bodies : also hilts of swords, armour, orna- 
 ments for saddles and bridles, and other trappings, with 
 the bones of those animals to which the trappings be- 
 longed, among which are the bones of elephants. The 
 Russian Court, says Mr. Demidoff, being informed of 
 these depredations, sent a principal officer, with sufficient 
 troops, to open such of these tumuli, as were too large 
 for the marauding parties to undertake and to secure their 
 contents. This officer, on taking a survey of the number- 
 less monuments of the dead spread over this great desert, 
 concluded that the barrow of the largest dimensions most 
 probably contained the remains of the prince or chief; 
 and he was not mistaken ; for, after removing a very deep 
 covering of earth and stones, the workmen came to three 
 vaults, constructed of stones, of rude workmanship ; a 
 view of which is exhibited in the engraving. That 
 wherein the prince was deposited, which was in the 
 centre, and the largest of the three, was easily dis- 
 tinguished by the sword, spear, bow, quiver and arrow 
 which lay beside him. In the vault beyond him, towards 
 which his feet lay, were his horse, bridle, saddle and 
 stirrups. The body of the prince lay in a reclining posture 
 on a sheet of pure gold, extending from head to foot, and 
 another sheet of gold, of the like dimensions, was spread 
 over him. He was wrapt in a rich mantle, .bordered with 
 gold and studded with rubies and emeralds. His head, 
 neck, breast and arms naked, and without any ornament. 
 In the lesser vault lay the princess, distinguished by her 
 female ornaments. She was placed reclining against the 
 wall, with a gold chain of many link*, set with rubies, 
 round her neck, and gold bracelets round her arms. The 
 head, breast and arms were naked. The body was covered 
 with a rich robe, but without any border of gold or jewels, 
 and was laid on a sheet of fine gold, and covered over with 
 another. The four sheets of gold weighed 40 Ib. The 
 robes of both looked fair and complete ; but on touching, 
 crumbled into dust. Many more of the tumuli were 
 opened, but this was the most remarkable. In the others 
 a great variety of curious articles were found. 
 
 MONTHLY REVIEW, Vol. 49 
 
 The following story I had from Mr. Pierson, factor here 
 for the African company, who was sent here from Cape 
 Coree to be second to Mr. Smith then chief factor. Soon 
 after his arrival Mr. Smith fell very ill of the country 
 malignant fever ; and having little prospect of recovery, 
 resigned his charge of the company's affairs to Pierson. 
 This ~Mr. Smith had the character of an obliging, ingenious 
 young gentleman, and was much esteemed by the King, 
 who hearing of his desperate illness, sent his Fatiihman to 
 hinder him from dying; who coming to the factory went 
 to Mr. Smith's bed-side, and told him, that his King had 
 such a kindness for him, that he had sent to keep him 
 alive, and that he should not die. Mr. Smith was in such 
 a languishing condition, that he little regarded him. Then 
 the Fatishman went from him to the hog-yard, where they 
 bury the white men ; and having carried with him some 
 brandy, rum, oil, rice, &c., he cry'd out aloud, you dead 
 white men that lie here, you have a mind to have this factor 
 that is sick to you, but he it our king's friend and he loves 
 him, and will not part with him as yet. Then he went 
 to captain Wiburn't grave who built the factory, and 
 cry'd, you captain of all the dead white men that lie here, 
 this is yr>ur doings ; you would have this man from us to 
 bear you company, because he is a good man, but our Icing 
 
 trill not part with him, nor you shall not have him yet. 
 Then making a hole in the ground over his grave, he 
 poured in the brandy, rum, oil, rice, &c., telling him, If 
 he wanted those things, there they were for him, but the 
 factor he must not expect, nor should not have, with more 
 such nonsense ; then went to Smith, and assured him he 
 should not die ; but grow ing troublesome to the sick man, 
 Pierson turned him out of the factory, and in two days 
 after poor Smith made his exit. 
 
 Mr. Josiah Kelph to Mr. Thomas Routh, in Castle 
 Street, Carlisle. j une 20, 1740. 
 
 * * 
 
 " The following was sent me a few months ago by the 
 minister of Kirklees in Yorkshire, the burying-place of 
 Robin Hood. My correspondent tells me it was found 
 among the papers of the late Dr. Gale of York, and is 
 supposed to have been the genuine epitaph of that noted 
 English outlaw. He adds that the grave-stone is yet to 
 be seen, but the characters are now worn out. 
 Here undernead dis laitl Stean 
 Laiz Robert Earl of Huntingtun. 
 Nea Arcir ver az hie sa geud, 
 An Piple kauld im Robin Heud. 
 Sick utlawz az hi and is men 
 Vil england nivir si agen. 
 
 Obiit24. Kal. Dehembris, 1247. 
 
 I am, dear Sir, your most faithful and humble Servant, 
 JOSIAH Ki.i.1 n." 
 
 Note in Nichols See the stone engraved in the 
 Sepulchral Monuments, vol. i. p. cviii. Mr. Gough says 
 the inscription was never on it ; and that the stone must 
 have been brought from another place, as the ground 
 under it, on being explored, was found to have been never 
 before disturbed.* 
 
 Lord Dalmeny, son of the E. of Rosebery, married 
 about eighty years ago a widow at Bath for her beauty. 
 They went abroad, she sickened, and on her death-bed 
 requested that she might be interred in some particular 
 churchyard, either in Sussex or Suffolk, I forget which. 
 The body was embalmed, but at the custom-house in the 
 port where it was landed the officer suspected smuggling 
 and insisted on opening it. They recognised the features 
 of the wife of their own clergyman, who having been 
 married to him against her own inclination had eloped. 
 Both husbands followed the body to the grave. The 
 Grandfather of Dr. Smith of Norwich knew the Lord. 
 
 It was a melancholy notion of the Stoics that the con- 
 dition of the Soul, and even its individual immortality, 
 might be affected by the circumstances of death : for 
 example, that if any person were killed by a great mass 
 of earth falling upon him, or the ruins of a building, the 
 Soul as well as the body would be crushed, and not being 
 able to extricate itself would be extinguished there : 
 existimant animam hominis magno pondere cxtriti per- 
 meare non posse, el statim spargi, quia non fuerit illi 
 exitus liber. 
 
 Upon this belief, the satirical epitaph on Sir John Van- 
 brugh would convey what might indeed be called a heavy 
 curse. 
 
 * On the disputed question of the genuineness of the 
 above epitaph, see the Notes and Illustrations to Ritson's 
 Robin Hood, pp. xliv 1. Robin Hood's Death and 
 Burial is the last Ballad in the second volume. 
 
 " And there they buried bold Robin Hood, 
 Near to the fair Kirkleys."
 
 640 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Some of the Greenlanders, for even in Greenland there 
 are sects, suppose the soul to be so corporeal that it can 
 increase or decrease, is divisible, may lose part of its sub- 
 stance, and have it restored again. On its way to Heaven, 
 which is five days' dreadful journey, all the way down a 
 rugged rock, which is so steep that they must slide down 
 it, and so rough that their way is tracked with blood, they 
 are liable to be destroyed, and this destruction, which they 
 call the second death, is final, and therefore justly deemed 
 of all things the most terrible. It is beyond the power 
 of their Angekoks to remedy this evil ; but these impos- 
 tors pretend to the art of repairing a maimed soul, bring- 
 ing home a strayed or runaway one, arid of changing away 
 one that is sickly, for the sound and sprightly one of a 
 hare, a rein-deer, a bird, or an infant. 
 
 " This is the peevishness o( our humane wisdom, yea, 
 rather of our humane folly, to yearn for tidings from the 
 dead, as if a spirit departed could declare anything more 
 evidently than the book of God, which is the sure oracle 
 of life? This was Saul's practise, neglect Samuel 
 when he was alive, and seek after him when he was dead. 
 What says the Prophet, Should not a people seek unto 
 their God ? Should the living repair to the dead ? (Isai. 
 viij. 19.) Among the works of Athanasiug 1 find (though 
 he be not the author of the questions to Antiochus,) a 
 discourse full of reason, why God would not permit the 
 soul of any of those (hat departed from hence to return 
 back unto us again, and to declare the state of things in 
 hell unto us. For what pestilent errors would arise from 
 thence to seduce us? Devils would transform themselves 
 into the shapes of men that were deceased, pretend that 
 they were risen from the dead (for what will not the 
 Father of lies feign ?) and so spread in any false doc. 
 trines, or incite us to many barbarous actions, to our end- 
 less error and destruction. And admit they be not 
 Phantasms, and delusions, but the very men, yet all men 
 are liars, but God is truth. I told you what a Necro- 
 mancer Saul was in the Old Testament, he would believe 
 nothing unless a prophet rose from the grave to teach 
 him. There is another as good as himself in the New 
 Testament, and not another pattern in all the Scripture 
 to my remembrance, Lukejcvi. 27. The rich man in hell 
 urged Abraham to send Lazarus to admonish his brethren 
 of their wicked life ; Abraham refers to Moses and the 
 Prophets. He that could not teach himself when he was 
 alive, would teach Abraham himself being in hell, AV/y, 
 Father Abraham, but if one went unto them from the 
 dead, they will repent. 
 
 " The mind is composed with quietness to hear the 
 living ; the apparitions of dead men, beside the suspicion 
 of delusion, would fill us with ghastly horror, and it were 
 impossible we should be fit scholars to learn if such strong 
 perturbation of fear should be upon us. How much 
 better hath God ordained for our security, and tranquil- 
 lity, that the priest's lips should preserve knowledge ? 1 
 know, if God shall see it fit to have us disciplined by such 
 means, he can stir up the spirits of the faithful departed 
 to come among us : So, after Christ's resurrection, many 
 dead bodies of the Saints which slept arose, and came out 
 of their graves, and went into the Holy City, and appeared 
 unto many. This was uot upon a small matter, but upon 
 a brave and renowned occasion : But for the Spirits of 
 damnation, that are tied in chains of darkness, there is no 
 re-passage for them, and it makes more to strengthen our 
 belief that never any did return from hell to tell us their 
 woeful tale, than if any should return. It is among the 
 severe penalties of damnation that there is no indulgence 
 for the smallest respite to come out of it. The heathen 
 put that truth into this fable. The Lion asked the Fox, 
 why he never came to visit him when he was sick : Says 
 
 the Fox, because I can trace many beasts by the print of 
 their foot that have gone toward your den, Sir Lion, but 
 I cannot see the print of one foot that ever came back : 
 
 Quid me vestigia terrent 
 Omnia te advorsum spectantia, nulla retrorsum. 
 
 So there is a beaten, and a broad road that leads the re- 
 probate to hell, but you do not find the print of one hoof 
 that ever came back. When I have given you my judg- 
 ment about apparitions of the dead in their descending 
 from Heaven, or ascending from hell, I must tell you in 
 the third place, I have met with a thousand stories in 
 Pontifician writings concerning some that have had re- 
 passage from Purgatory to their familiars upon earth. 
 Notwithstanding the reverence I bear to Gregory the 
 Great, 1 cannot refrain to say ; He was much to blame to 
 begin such fictions upon his credulity ; others have been 
 more to blame that have invented such Legends ; and 
 they are most to be derided that believe them. miser- 
 able Theology! if thy tenets must be con firmed by sick 
 men's dreams, and dead men's phantastical apparitions !" 
 
 BP. HACKETT. 
 
 " It is a morose humour in some, even ministers, that 
 they will not give a due commendation to the deceased : 
 whereby they not only offer a seeming unkindness to the 
 dead, but do a real injury to the living, by discouraging 
 virtue, and depriving us of the great instruments of piety, 
 good examples : which usually are far more effective 
 methods of instruction, than any precepts : These com- 
 monly urging only the necessity of those duties, while 
 the other show the possibility and manner of performing. 
 
 " Rut then, 'tis a most unchristian and uncharitable 
 mistake in those, that think it unlawful to commemorate 
 the dead, and to celebrate their memories : whereas there 
 is no one thing does so much uphold and keep up the 
 honour and interest of religion amongst the multitude, as 
 the due observance of those Anniversaries which the 
 Church has, upon this account, scattered throughout the 
 whole course of the year, would do : and indeed to our 
 neglect of this in a great part the present decay of religion 
 may rationally be imputed. 
 
 " Thus in this age of our's what Pliny &aith of hi?, 
 Postquam dtsimus facere laudanda, lauJari quoque 
 ineptum putamus. Since people have left off doing things 
 that are praiseworthy, they look upon praise itself as a 
 silly thing. 
 
 " And possibly the generality of hearers themselves are 
 not free from this fault ; who peradventure may fancy 
 their own life upbraided, when they hear another's com- 
 mended. 
 
 " But that the servants of God, which depart this life in 
 his faith and fear, may and must be praised, I shall en- 
 deavour to make good upon these three grounds. 
 
 " In common justice to the deceased themselves. Ordi- 
 nary civility teaches us to speak well of the dead. ,\Yc 
 quicquam sanclius habet reverent ia superstitum, quam tit 
 amissos venerabiliter recordetur, says Ausonius, and 
 makes this the ground of the Parentalia, which had been 
 ever since Numa's time. 
 
 " Praise, however it may become the living, is a just 
 debt to the deserts of the dead, who are now got clear out 
 of the reach of envy; which, if it have anything of the 
 generous in it, will scorn, vulture-like, to prey upon 
 carcass. 
 
 " Besides, Christianity lays a greater obligation upon 
 us; The Communion of Saints is a Tenet of our faith. 
 Now, as we ought uot pray to or for them, so we may and 
 must praise them. 
 
 " This is the least we can do in return for those great 
 offices they did the Church Militant, while they were with
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 641 
 
 us, and now do, they are with God : nor have we any 
 other probable way of communicating with them. 
 
 " The Philosopher in his Morals makes it a question, 
 whether the dead are in any way concerned in what befals 
 them or their posterity after their decease ; and whether 
 those honours and reproaches, which survivors cast upon 
 them, reach them or no ? and he concludes it after a long 
 debate in the affirmative ; not so, he says, as to alter 
 their state, but, <ruu,flx.~f.f.<f{)a.i it, to contribute some- 
 what to it. 
 
 " Tully, though not absolutely persuaded of an im- 
 mortal soul, as speaking doubtfully and variously of it, 
 yet is constant to this, that he takes a good name and a 
 reputation, we leave behind us, to be a kind of immor- 
 tality. 
 
 " But there is more in it than so. Our remembrance 
 of the Saints may be a means to improve their bliss, and 
 heighten their rewards to all eternity. Abraham, the 
 Father of the Faithful, hath his bosom thus daily enlarged 
 for new comers. 
 
 " Whether the heirs of the kingdom are, at their first 
 admission, instated into a full possession of all their glory, 
 and kept to that stint, 1 think may be a doubt. For if the 
 faculty be perfected by the object, about which 'tis con- 
 versant ; then the faculties of those blessed ones being 
 continually employed upon an infinite object, must needs 
 be infinitely perficible, and capable still of being more 
 and more enlarged, and consequently of receiving still 
 new and further additions of glory. 
 
 " Not only so, (this is in Heaven.:) but even the in- 
 fluence of that example, they leave behind them on earth, 
 drawing still more and more souls after them to God, 
 will alo add to those improvements to the end of the 
 world, and bring in a revenue of accessory joys. 
 
 " And would it not be unjust in us then to deny them 
 those glorious advantages which our commemoration and 
 inclination may and ought to give them." 
 
 ADAM LITTLETON. 
 
 Circles and right lines limit and close all bodies, and 
 the mortal right lined circle must conclude to shut up 
 all. There is no Antidote against the Opinion of Time, 
 which temporally considereth all things ; Our Fathers 
 find their Graves in our short memories and sadly tell us 
 how we may be buried in our survivors. Grave-stones 
 tell truth scarce forty years: Generations pass while 
 some trees stand, and old families last not three oaks. 
 To be read by l*are Inscriptions like many in Gruter, to 
 hope for Eternity by .Enigmatical Epithetes, or first 
 Letters of our names to be studied by Antiquaries, who 
 we were, and have new names given us like many of 
 the Mummies, are cold consolations unto the students 
 of perpetuity even by everlasting Languages. 
 
 SIR T. BROWNE. 
 
 " Five Sermons formerly printed," p. 61., at the end 
 of the volume. The one from which the above passage is 
 extracted is that preached at the obsequies of the Hight 
 Honourable the Lady Jane Cheyne. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXXVI. 
 
 CHARITY OF THE DOCTOR IN HIS OPINIONS. 
 MASON THE POET. POLITICAL MEDICINE. 
 SIB WILLIAM TEMPLE. CERVANTES. STATE 
 PHYSICIANS. ADVANTAGE TO BE DERIVED 
 FROM, WHETHER TO KING, CABINET, LORDS, 
 OR COMMONS. EXAMPLES. PHILOSOPHY OF 
 POPULAR EXPRESSIONS. COTTON MATHER. 
 CLAUDE PA JON AND BARNABAS OLEY. 
 TIMOTHY ROGERS AND MELANCHOLY. 
 
 Goto ! 
 
 You are a subtile nation, you physicians, 
 And grown the only cabinets in court ! B. JONSON. 
 
 THE Doctor, who was charitable in all his 
 opinions, used to account and apologise for 
 many of the errors of men, by what he 
 called the original sin of their constitution, 
 using the term not theologically, but in a 
 physico-philosophical sense. What an old 
 French physician said concerning Charles 
 VIII. was in entire accord with his specula- 
 tions, ce corps etoit compose de mauvais 
 pate, et de matiere cathareuse. Men of hard 
 hearts and heavy intellect, he said, were 
 made of stony materials. For a drunkard, 
 his qualifying censure was, " poor fellow ! 
 bibulous clay bibulous clay ! " Your 
 light-brained, light-hearted people, who are 
 too giddy ever to be . good, had not earth 
 enough, he said, in their composition. 
 Those upon whose ungrateful temper be- 
 nefits were ill bestowed, and on whom the 
 blessings of fortune were thrown away, he 
 excused by saying that they were "made 
 from a sandy soil ; and for Mammon's 
 muckworms, their mould was taken from 
 the dunghill. 
 
 Mason the poet was a man of ill-natured 
 politics, out of humour with his country till 
 the French Revolution startled him and 
 brought him into a better state of feeling. 
 This, however, was not while the Doctor 
 lived, and till that time he could see nothing 
 but tyranny and injustice in the proceedings 
 of the British Government, and nothing but 
 slavery and ruin to come for the nation. 
 These opinions were the effects of Whiggery* 
 
 * See Vol. IV. p. 275. p. 317. of this editioa.
 
 642 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 acting upon a sour stomach and a saturnine 
 constitution. To think ill of the present 
 and augur worse of the future has long been 
 accounted a proof of patriotism among those 
 who by an illustrious antiphrasis call them- 
 selves patriots. " What the Romans scorned 
 to do after the battle of Cannze," said Lord 
 Keeper Finch in one of his solid and elo- 
 quent speeches, " what the Venetians never 
 did when they had lost all their terra 
 firma, that men are now taught to think a 
 virtue and the sign of a wise and good man, 
 desperare de Republica : and all this in a 
 time of as much justice and peace at home, 
 as good laws for the security of religion and 
 liberty, as good execution of these laws, as 
 great plenty of trade and commerce abroad, 
 and as likely a conjuncture of affairs for the 
 continuance of these blessings to us, as ever 
 nation prospered under." 
 
 The Doctor, when he spoke of this part of 
 Mason's character, explained it by saying 
 that the elements had not been happily 
 tempered in him " cold and dry, Sir ! " 
 and then he shook his head and knit his 
 brow with that sort of compassionate look 
 which came naturally into his countenance 
 when he was questioned concerning a patient 
 whose state was unfavourable. 
 
 But though he believed that many of our 
 sins and propensities are bred in the bone, 
 he disputed the other part of the proverb, 
 and maintained that they might be got out 
 of the flesh. And then generalising with a 
 rapidity worthy of Humboldt himself, he 
 asserted that all political evils in modern 
 ages and civilised states were mainly owing 
 to a neglect of the medical art ; and that 
 there would not, and could not be so many 
 distempers in the body politic, if the primes 
 vice were but attended to with proper care ; 
 an opinion in which he was fortified by the 
 authority of Sir William Temple. 
 
 " I have observed the fate of Campania" 
 says that eminent statesman, "determine 
 contrary to all appearances, by the caution 
 and conduct of a General, which was at- 
 tributed by those that knew him to his age 
 and infirmities, rather than his own true 
 qualities, acknowledged otherwise to have 
 
 been as great as most men of the age. I 
 have seen the counsels of a noble country 
 grow bold, or timorous, according to the fits 
 of his good or ill-health that managed them, 
 and the pulse of the Government beat high 
 with that of the Governor ; and this unequal 
 conduct makes way for great accidents in 
 the world. Nay, I have often reflected 
 upon the counsels and fortunes of the 
 greatest monarchies rising and decaying 
 sensibly with the ages and healths of the 
 Princes and chief officers that governed 
 them. And I remember one great minister 
 that confessed to me, when he fell into one 
 of his usual fits of the gout, he was no 
 longer able to bend his mind or thought to 
 any public business, nor give audiences 
 beyond two or three of his domestics, 
 though it were to save a kingdom ; and that 
 this proceeded not . from any violence of 
 pain, but from -a general languishing and 
 faintness of spirits, which made him in 
 those fits think nothing worth the trouble of 
 one careful or solicitous thought. For the 
 approaches, or lurkings of the Gout, the 
 Spleen, or the Scurvy, nay the very fumes 
 of indigestion, may indispose men to thought 
 and to care, as well as diseases of danger 
 and pain. Thus accidents of health grow to 
 be accidents of State, and public constitu- 
 tions come to depend in a great measure 
 upon those of particular men ; which makes 
 it perhaps seem necessary in the choice of 
 persons for great employments, (at least such 
 as require constant application and pains,) 
 to consider their bodies as well as their 
 minds, and ages and health as well as their 
 abilities." 
 
 Cervantes, according to the Doctor, clearly 
 perceived this great truth, and went farther 
 than Sir W. Temple, for he perceived also 
 the practical application, though it was one 
 of those truths which, because it might have 
 been dangerous for him to propound them 
 seriously, he was fain to bring forward in a 
 comic guise, leaving it for the wise to dis- 
 cover his meaning, and for posterity to 
 profit by it. He knew (Daniel loquitur') 
 for what did not Cervantes know ? that 
 if Philip II. had committed himself to the
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 6J3 
 
 superintendence of a Physician instead of a 
 Father Confessor, many of the crimes and 
 miseries by which his reign is so infamously 
 distinguished, might have been prevented. 
 A man of his sad spirit and melancholy 
 complexion to be dieted upon fish the whole 
 forty days of Lent, two days in the week 
 during the rest of the year, and on the eve 
 of every holiday besides, what could be 
 expected but atrabilious thoughts, and 
 cold-blooded resolutions ? Therefore Cer- 
 vantes appointed a Physician over Sancho 
 in his Baratarian government : the humour 
 of the scene was for all readers, the applica- 
 tion for those who could penetrate beyond 
 the veil, the benefit for happier ages when 
 the art of Government should be better 
 understood, and the science of medicine be 
 raised to its proper station in the state. 
 
 Shakespeare intended to convey the same 
 political lesson, when he said " take physic, 
 pomp ! " He used the word pomp instead 
 of power, cautiously, for in those days it was 
 a perilous thing to meddle with matters of 
 state. 
 
 When the Philosopher Carneades under- 
 took to confute Zeno the Stoic in public 
 argument, (still, reader, Daniel loquitur,} how 
 did he prepare himself for the arduous dis- 
 putation ? by purging his head with helle- 
 bore, to the intent that the corrupt humours 
 which ascended thither from the stomach 
 should not disturb the seat of memory and 
 judgement, and obscure his intellectual per- 
 ception. The theory, Sir, was erroneous, 
 but the principle is good. When we re- 
 quire best music from the instrument, ought 
 we not first to be careful that all its parts 
 are in good order, and if we find a string 
 that jars, use our endeavours for tuning it ? 
 
 It may have been the jest of a satirist 
 that Dryden considered stewed prunes as 
 the best means of putting his body into a 
 state favourable for heroic composition ; but 
 that odd person George Wither tells us of 
 himself that he usually watched and fasted 
 when he composed, that his spirit was lost if 
 at such times he tasted meat or drink, and 
 that if he took a glass of wine he could not 
 write a verse : no wonder, therefore, that 
 
 his verses were for the most part in a weak 
 and watery vein.* Father Paul Sarpi had 
 a still more extraordinary custom : it is not 
 to an enemy, but to his friend and admirers 
 that we are indebted for informing us with 
 what care that excellent writer attended to 
 physical circumstance as affecting his intel- 
 lectual powers. For when he was either 
 reading or writing, alone, "his manner," 
 says Sir Henry Wotton, " was to sit fenced 
 with a castle of paper about his chair, and 
 over head ; for he was of our Lord of St. 
 Alban's opinion that all air is predatory, and 
 especially hurtful when the spirits are most 
 employed." 
 
 There should be a State Physician to 
 the King, besides his Physicians ordinary 
 and extraordinary, one whose sole busi- 
 ness should be to watch over the royal 
 health as connected with the discharge of 
 the royal functions, a head keeper of the 
 King's health. 
 
 For the same reason there ought to be a 
 Physician for the Cabinet, a Physician for 
 the Privy Council, a Physician for the Bench 
 of Bishops, a Physician for the twelve Judges, 
 two for the House of Lords, four for the 
 House of Commons, one for the Admiralty, 
 one for the War Office, one for the Directors 
 of the East India Company, (there was no 
 Board of Control in the Doctor's days, or 
 he would certainly have advised that a Phy- 
 sician should be placed upon that Establish- 
 ment also) : one for the Lord Mayor, two 
 for the Common Council, four for the 
 Livery. (He was speaking in the days of 
 Wilkes and Liberty.) " How much mis- 
 chief," said he, " might have been prevented 
 by cupping the Lord Mayor, blistering a 
 few of the Aldermen, administering salts 
 and manna to lower the pulse of civic 
 patriotism, and keeping the city orators 
 upon a low regimen for a week before every 
 public meeting." 
 
 Then in the Cabinet what evils might 
 be averted by administering laxatives or 
 corroborants as the case required. 
 
 * The Greek Proverb, adverted toby Horace in 1 Epfst. 
 xix., was iu the Doctor's thoughts: 
 
 uitif tl Titat tiiSii SLI rixti trofir. 
 
 TT 2
 
 644 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 In the Lords and Commons, by clearing 
 away bile, evacuating ill-humours and occa- 
 sionally by cutting for the simples.* 
 
 While men are what they are, weak, 
 frail, inconstant, fallible, peccable, sinful 
 creatures, it is in vain to hope that Peers 
 and Commoners will prepare themselves for 
 the solemn exercise of their legislative func- 
 tions by fasting and prayer, that so they 
 may be better fitted for retiring into them- 
 selves, and consulting upon momentous 
 questions, the Uriin and Thummim which 
 God hath placed in the breast of every man. 
 But even as Laws are necessary for keeping 
 men within the limits of their duty when 
 conscience fails, so in this case it should be 
 part of the law of Parliament that what its 
 Members will not do for themselves, the 
 Physician should do for them. They should 
 go through a preparatory course of medicine 
 before every session, and be carefully at- 
 tended as long as Parliament was sitting. 
 
 Traces of such a practice, as of many 
 important and primeval truths, are found 
 among savages, from whom the Doctor was 
 of opinion that much might be learned, if 
 their customs were diligently observed and 
 their traditions carefully studied. In one 
 of the bravest nations upon the Mississippi, 
 the warriors before they set out upon an 
 expedition always prepared themselves by 
 taking the Medicine of War, which was an 
 emetic, about a gallon in quantity for each 
 man, and to be swallowed at one draught. 
 There are other tribes in which the Beloved 
 Women prepare a beverage at the Physic 
 Dance, and it is taken to wash away sin. 
 
 " Here," said the Doctor, " are vestiges of 
 early wisdom, probably patriarchal, and if 
 so, revealed," for he held that all needful 
 knowledge was imparted to man at his 
 creation. And the truth of the principle is 
 shown in common language. There is often 
 a philosophy in popular expressions and 
 forms of speech, which escapes notice, be- 
 cause words are taken as they are uttered, 
 at their current value, and we rest satisfied 
 with their trivial acceptation. We take 
 
 * The probable origin of this Proverb is given in 
 Grose's Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue. 
 
 them in the husk and the shell, but some- 
 times it is worth while to look for the kernel, 
 Do we not speak of sound and orthodox 
 opinions, sound principles, sound learning ? 
 mens sana in corpore sano. A sound mind 
 is connected with a sound body, and sound 
 and orthodox opinions result from the sanity 
 of both. Unsound opinions are diseased 
 ones, and therefore the factious, the here- 
 tical and the schismatic, ought to be put 
 under the care of a physician. 
 
 " I have read of a gentleman," says Cot- 
 ton Mather, " who had an humour of making 
 singular and fanciful expositions of scripture ; 
 but one Doctor Sim gave him a dose of 
 physic, which when it had wrought, the 
 gentleman became orthodox immediately 
 and expounded at the old rate no more." 
 
 Thus as the accurate, and moderate, and 
 erudite Mosheim informs us, the French 
 theologian Claude Pajon was of opinion that 
 in order to produce that amendment of the 
 heart which is called regeneration, nothing 
 more is requisite than to put the body, if its 
 habit is bad, into a sound state by the power 
 of physic, and having done this, then to set 
 truth and falsehood before the understand- 
 ing, and virtue and vice before the will, 
 clearly and distinctly in their genuine 
 colours, so as that their nature and their 
 properties may be fully apprehended. But 
 the Doctor thought that Pajon carried his 
 theory too far, and ought to have been phy- 
 sicked himself. 
 
 That learned and good man Barnabas 
 Oley, the friend and biographer of the saintly 
 Herbert, kept within the bounds of discre- 
 tion, when he delivered an opinion of the 
 same tendency. After showing what power 
 is exercised by art over nature, 1 st, in in- 
 animate materials, 2dly, in vegetables, and 
 Sdly, the largeness or latitude of its power 
 over the memory, the imagination and loco- 
 motive faculties of sensitive creatures, he 
 proceeds to the fourth rank, the rational, 
 " which adds a diadem of excellency to the 
 three degrees above mentioned, being an 
 approach unto the nature angelical and 
 divine." "Now," says he, " 1st, in as much 
 as the human body partly agrees with the
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 645 
 
 first runk of materials inanimate, so can Art 
 partly use it, as it uses them, to frame (rather 
 to modify the frame of) it into great variety; 
 the head thus, the nose so ; and other duc- 
 tile parts, as is seen and read, after other 
 fashions. 2. Art can do something to the 
 Body answerable to what Gardeners do to 
 plants. If our Blessed Saviour's words 
 (Matthew vi. 27.) deny all possibility of 
 adding procerity or tallness to the stature, 
 yet as the Lord Verulam notes, to make the 
 Body dwarfish, crook-shouldered (as some 
 Persians did) to recover straightness, or pro- 
 cure slenderness, is in the power of Art. 
 But, 3. much more considerable authority 
 has it over the humours, either so to impel 
 and. enrage them, that like furious streams 
 they shall dash the Body (that bottom where- 
 in the precious Soul is embarked) against 
 dangerous rocks, or run it upon desperate 
 sands ; or so to attemper and tune them, 
 that they shall become like calm waters or 
 harmonious instruments for virtuous habits, 
 introduced by wholesome moral precepts, to 
 practise upon. It is scarce credible what 
 services the Noble Science of Physic may do 
 unto Moral, (yea to Grace and Christian,) 
 virtue, by prescribing diet to prevent, or 
 medicine to allay the fervours and eruptions 
 of humours, of blood, and of that irriguum 
 concupiscenticE, or 6 rpo-xpQ Tf)S yiv'iatuz, 
 especially if these jewels, their recipes, light 
 into obedient ears. These helps of bettering 
 nature are within her lowest and middle 
 region of Diet and Medicine." 
 
 A sensible woman of the Doctor's ac- 
 quaintance, (the mother of a young family,) 
 entered so far into his views upon this sub- 
 ject, that she taught her children from their 
 earliest childhood to consider ill-humour as 
 a disorder which was to be cured by physic. 
 Accordingly she had always small doses 
 ready, and the little patients, whenever it 
 was thought needful, took rhubarb for the 
 crossness. No punishment was required. 
 Peevishness or ill-temper and rhubarb were 
 associated in their minds always as cause 
 and effect. 
 
 There are Divines who have thought that 
 melancholy may with advantage be treated 
 
 in age, as fretfulness in this family was in 
 childhood. Timothy Rogers, who having 
 been long afflicted with Trouble of Mind: 
 and the Disease of Melancholy, wrote a dis- 
 course concerning both for the use of his 
 fellow sufferers, says of Melancholy, that 
 " it does generally indeed first begin at the 
 body, and then conveys its venom to the 
 mind ; and if anything could be found that 
 might keep the blood and spirits in their due 
 temper and motion, this would obstruct its 
 further progress, and in a great measure 
 keep the soul clear. I pretend not" (he 
 continues) "to tell you what medicines are 
 proper to remove it, and I know of none, I 
 leave you to advise with such as are learned 
 in the profession of Physic." And then he 
 quotes a passage from " old Mr. Greenham's 
 Comfort for afflicted Consciences." " If a 
 Man," saith old Mr. Greenham, " that is 
 troubled in conscience come to a Minister, 
 it may be he will look all to the Soul and 
 nothing to the Body : if he come to a Phy- 
 sician he considereth the Body and neglect- 
 eth the Soul. For my part, I would never 
 have the Physician's counsel despised, nor 
 the labour of the Minister neglected : be- 
 cause the Soul and Body dwelling together, 
 it is convenient, that as the Soul should be 
 cured by the Word, by Prayer, by Fasting, 
 or by Comforting, so the Body must be 
 brought into some temperature by physic, 
 and diet, by harmless diversions and such 
 like ways ; providing always that it be so 
 done in the fear of God, as not to think by 
 these ordinary means quite to smother or 
 evade our troubles, but to use them as pre- 
 paratives, whereby our Souls may be made 
 more capable of the spiritual methods which 
 are to follow afterwards." 
 
 But Timothy Bright, Doctor of Physic, 
 is the person who had the most profound 
 reverence for the medical art. " No one," 
 he said, " should touch so holy a thing that 
 hath not passed the whole discipline of libe- 
 ral sciences, and washed himself pure and 
 clean in the waters of wisdom and under- 
 standing." "O Timothy Bright, Timothy 
 Bright," said the Doctor, " rightly wert 
 thou called Timothy Bright, for thou wert
 
 646 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 a Bright Timothy ! " Nor art thou less de- 
 serving of praise, O Timothy Bright, say I, 
 for having published an abridgement of the 
 Book of Acts and Monuments of the Church, 
 written by that Reverend Father Master 
 John Fox, and by thee thus reduced into a 
 more accessible form, for such as either 
 through want of leisure or ability have not 
 the use of so necessary a history. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXXVH. 
 
 MORE MALADIES THAN THE BEST PHYSICIANS 
 CAN PBEVENT BY REMEDIES. THE DOCTOR 
 NOT GIVEN TO QUESTIONS, AND OF THE 
 POCO-CURANTE SCHOOL AS TO ALL THE 
 POLITICS OF THE DAY. 
 
 A slight answer to an intricate and useless question is a 
 fit cover to such a dish ; a cabbage leaf is good enough to 
 cover a pot of mushrooms. JEREMY TAYLOR. 
 
 YET in his serious moods the Doctor sadly 
 confessed with that Sir George, whom the 
 Scotch ungratefully call Bloody Mackenzie, 
 that " as in the body natural, so likewise in 
 the politic, Nature hath provided more 
 diseases than the best of Physicians can pre- 
 vent by remedies." He knew that king- 
 doms as well as individuals have their agues 
 and calentures, are liable to plethora some- 
 times, and otherwhiles to atrophy, to fits of 
 madness which no hellebore can cure, and 
 to decay and dissolution which no human 
 endeavours can avert. With the maladies 
 of the State indeed he troubled himself not, 
 for though a true-born Englishman, he was 
 as to all politics of the day, of the Poco- 
 curante school. But with those of the 
 human frame his thoughts were continually 
 employed ; it was his business to deal with 
 them; his duty and his earnest desire to 
 heal them, under God's blessing, where heal- 
 ing was humanly possible, or to alleviate 
 them, when anything more than alleviation 
 was beyond the power of human skill. 
 
 The origin of evil was a question upon 
 which he never ventured. Here, too, he 
 said with Sir George Mackenzie, " as I am 
 not able by the Jacob's Ladder of my merit 
 
 to scale Heaven, so am I less able by the 
 Jacob's Staff of my private ability to take 
 up the true altitude of its mysteries:" and 
 borrowing a play upon words from the same 
 old Essayist, he thought the brain had too 
 little pia mater, which was too curious in 
 such inquiries. But the mysteries of his own 
 profession afforded " ample room and verge 
 enough" for his speculations, however wide 
 and wild their excursions. Those mysteries 
 are so many, so momentous, and so inscru- 
 table, that he wondered not at any super- 
 stitions which have been excogitated by 
 bewildered imagination, and implicitly fol- 
 lowed by human weakness in its hopes and 
 fears, its bodily and its mental sufferings. 
 
 As little did he wonder at the theories 
 advanced by men who were, in their days, 
 the Seraphic and Angelic and Irrefragable 
 Doctors of the healing art : the tartar of 
 Paracelsus, the Bias and Gas of Van Hel- 
 mont, nor in later times at the animalcular 
 hypotheses of Langius and Paullinus ; nor 
 at the belief of elder nations, as the Jews, 
 and of savages everywhere, that all mala- 
 dies are the immediate work of evil spirits. 
 But when he called to mind the frightful 
 consequences to which the belief of this 
 opinion has led, the cruelties which have 
 been exercised, the crimes which have been 
 perpetrated, the miseries which have been 
 inflicted and endured, it made him shudder 
 at perceiving that the most absurd error 
 may produce the greatest mischief to society, 
 if it be accompanied with presumption, and 
 if any real or imaginary interest be con- 
 nected with maintaining it. 
 
 The Doctor, like his Master and benefac- 
 tor Peter Hopkins, was of the Poco-curante 
 school in politics. He said that the War- 
 wickshire gentleman who was going out with 
 his hounds when the two armies were begin- 
 ning to engage at Edge-hill, was not the 
 worst Englishman who took the field that 
 day. 
 
 Local circumstances favoured this ten- 
 dency to political indifference. It was ob- 
 served in the 34th Chapter of this Opus 
 that one of the many reasons for which our 
 Philosopher thought Doncaster a very like-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 647 
 
 able place of residence was, that it sent no 
 Members to Parliament. And Yorkshire 
 being too large a county for any of its great 
 families to engage lightly in contesting it, 
 the Election fever, however it might rage 
 in other towns or other parts of the county, 
 never prevailed there. But the constitution 
 of the Doctor's mind secured him from all 
 excitement of this nature. Even in the 
 days of Wilkes and Liberty, when not a 
 town in England escaped the general In- 
 fluenza, he was not in the slightest degree 
 affected by it, nor did he ever take up the 
 Public Advertiser for the sake of one of 
 Junius's Letters. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXXVTIL 
 
 SIMONIDES. FUNERAL POEMS. UNFEELING 
 OPINION IMPUTED TO THE GREEK POET, 
 AND EXPRESSED BY MALHERBE. SENECA. 
 JEREMY TAYLOK AND THE DOCTOR ON 
 WHAT DEATH MIGHT HAVE BEEN, AND, 
 WERE MEN WHAT CHRISTIANITY WOULD 
 MAKE THEM, MIGHT BE. 
 
 Intendale chi pud ; che nun e stretto 
 Alcuno a creder piii di quel che vuole. 
 
 ORLANDO INNAMORATO. 
 
 AMONG the lost works of antiquity, there 
 are few poems which I should so much 
 rejoice in recovering, as those of Simonides. 
 Landor has said of him that he and Pindar 
 wrote nothing bad ; that his characteristics 
 were simplicity, brevity, tenderness, and an 
 assiduous accuracy of description. "If I 
 were to mention," he adds, " what I fancy 
 would give an English reader the best idea 
 of his manner, I should say, the book of 
 Ruth." 
 
 One species of composition wherein he 
 excelled was that which the Dutch in their 
 straight-forward way call Lykzangen or Lyk- 
 dichten, but for which we have no appropriate 
 name, poems in commemoration of the 
 dead. Beautiful specimens are to be found 
 in the poetry of all countries, and this might 
 be expected, threnodial being as natural as 
 amatory verse ; and as the characteristic of 
 the latter is passion with little reflection, 
 that of the former is, as naturally, to be at 
 the same time passionate and thoughtful. 
 
 Our own language was rich in such poems 
 during the Elizabethan age, and that which 
 followed it. Of foreign poets none has in 
 this department exceeded Chiabrera. 
 
 There is a passage among the fragments 
 of Simonides which is called by his old 
 editor consolatory, TrfipqyopiKov : but were 
 it not for the authority of Seneca, who un- 
 doubtedly was acquainted with the whole 
 poem, I should not easily be persuaded that 
 so thoughtful, so pensive, so moralising a 
 poet would, in any mood of mind, have re- 
 commended such consolation : 
 
 Ej TV Jvctciulv, T/.Sifiv '/.u-iiy.; f&tci$' 
 
 let us not call to mind the dead, if we think 
 of him at all, more than a single day. Indeed 
 I am not certain from what Seneca says, 
 whether the poet was speaking in his own, 
 or in an assumed character, nor whether he 
 spoke seriously or satirically ; or I cannot 
 but suspect that the passage would appear 
 very differently, if we saw it in its place. 
 Malherbe gives the same sort of advice in 
 his consolation to M. du Perier upon the 
 death of a daughter. 
 
 Ne te lasse done plus d'inufiles complaintes i 
 
 Mais sage d Vavenir, 
 Aime une ombre comme ombre, el des cendret elcintes 
 
 Eteins le souvenir ; 
 
 such a feeling is much more in character 
 with a Frenchman than with Simonides. 
 
 Seneca himself, Stoic though he was, gave 
 no such advice, but accounted the remem- 
 brance of his departed friends among his 
 solemn delights, not looking upon them as 
 lost : MiM amicorum defunctorum cogitatio 
 dulcis ac blanda est ; Jidbui enim illos, tanquam 
 amissurus ; amissi tanquam Jiabeam. 
 
 My venerable friend was not hardened by 
 a profession, which has too often the effect 
 of blunting the feelings, even if it does not 
 harden the heart. His disposition and his 
 happy education preserved him from that 
 injury ; and as his religion taught him that 
 death was not in itself an evil, that for 
 him, and for those who believed, with him, 
 it had no sting, the subject was as familiar 
 to his meditations as to his professional prac- 
 tice. A speculation which Jeremy Taylor, 
 without insisting on it, offers to the con-
 
 648 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 sideration of inquisitive and modest persons, 
 appeared to him far more probable than the 
 common opinion which Milton expresses 
 when he says that the fruit of the Forbidden 
 Tree brought death into the world. That, 
 the Bishop argues, " which would have been, 
 had there been no sin, and that which re- 
 mains when the sin or guiltiness is gone, is 
 not properly the punishment of the sin. But 
 dissolution of the soul and body should have 
 been, if Adam had not sinned ; for the world 
 would have been too little to have enter- 
 tained those myriads of men, which must, 
 in all reason, have been born from that 
 blessing of 'Increase and multiply,' which 
 was given at the first creation : and to have 
 confined mankind to the pleasures of this 
 world, in case he had not fallen, would have 
 been a punishment of his innocence: but 
 however, it might have been, though God had 
 not been angry, and shall still be, even when 
 the sin is taken off. The proper consequent 
 of this will be, that when the Apostle says 
 ' Death came in by Sin,' and that ' Death 
 is the wages of Sin,' he primarily and liter- 
 ally means the solemnities, and causes, and 
 infelicities, and untimeliness of temporal 
 death ; and not merely the dissolution, which 
 is directly no evil, but an inlet to a better 
 state." 
 
 As our friend agreed in this opinion with 
 Bishop Taylor ; and moreover as he read in 
 Scriptures that Enoch and Elijah had been 
 translated from this world without tasting of 
 death ; and as he deemed it probable at least, 
 that St. John, the beloved disciple, had been 
 favoured with a like exemption from the 
 common lot, he thought that Asgill had been 
 hardly dealt with in being expelled from 
 Parliament for his "Argument," that ac- 
 cording to the Covenant of Eternal Life, 
 revealed in the Scriptures, man might 
 be translated from hence, without passing 
 through death. The opinion, Dr. Dove 
 thought, might be enthusiastic, the reason- 
 ing wild, the conclusion untenable, and the 
 manner of the book indecorous, or irreverent. 
 But he had learned that much, which appears 
 irreverent, and in reality is so, has not been 
 irreverently intended ; and the opinion, 
 
 although groundless, seemed to him any- 
 thing rather than profane. 
 
 But the exemptions which are recorded 
 in the Bible could not, in his judgement, be 
 considered as showing what would have been 
 the common lot if our first parents had pre- 
 served their obedience. This he opined would 
 more probably have been uthanasy than 
 translation ; death, not preceded by infir- 
 mity and decay, but as welcome, and perhaps 
 as voluntary, as sleep. 
 
 Or possibly the transition from a corpo- 
 real to a spiritual, or more accurately in 
 our imperfect language, from an earthly 
 to a celestial state of being, might have been 
 produced by some developement, some formal 
 mutation as visible, (adverting to a favourite 
 fancy of his own,) as that which in the but- 
 terfly was made by the ancients their emblem 
 of immortality. Bishop Van Mildert shows 
 us upon scriptural authority that " the de- 
 gree of perfection at which we may arrive 
 has no definite limits, but is to go on in- 
 creasing as long as this state of probation 
 continues." So in the paradisiacal, and pos- 
 sibly in the millennial state, he thought, that 
 with such an intellectual and moral improve- 
 ment, a corresponding organic evolution 
 might keep pace ; and that as the child 
 expands into man, so man might mature 
 into Angel. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXXXIX. 
 
 THE DOCTOR DISSENTS FROM A PROPOSITION 
 OF WARBURTON'S, AND SHOWS IT TO BE 
 FALLACIOUS. HUTCHINSON'S REMARKS ON 
 THE POWERS OF BRUTES. LORD SHAFTES- 
 BURY QUOTED. APOLLONIUS AND THE 
 KING OF BABYLON. DISTINCTION IN THE 
 TALMUD BETWEEN AN INNOCENT BEAST 
 AND A VICIOUS ONE. OPINION OF ISAAC 
 LA PEYRESC. THE QUESTION DE ORIGINS 
 ET NATURA ANIMARUM IN BRUTIS AS 
 BROUGHT BEFORE THE THEOLOGIANS OF 
 SEVEN PROTESTANT ACADEMIES IN THE 
 YEAR 1635 BY DANIEL SENNERTUS. 
 
 Toules vcrilez ne sont pas bonnes a dire serieusemcnt. 
 
 GOMGA.M. 
 
 WARBURTON has argued that "from the 
 nature of any action morality cannot arise,
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 649 
 
 nor from its effects; not from the first, 
 because being only reasonable or unreason- 
 able, nothing follows but a fitness in doing 
 one, and an absurdity in doing the other ; 
 not from the second, because did the good 
 or evil produced make the action moral, 
 brutes, from whose actions proceed both good 
 and evil, would have morality." But War- 
 burton's proposition is fallacious, and his 
 reasoning is inconclusive ; there is an essen- 
 tial difference between right and wrong, 
 upon which the moral law is founded ; and 
 in the reductio ad absurdum upon which he 
 relies, there is no absurdity. The language 
 of the people is sometimes true to nature 
 and philosophy when that of the learned 
 departs widely from the one, and is mistaken 
 in the other. When we call a beast vicious, 
 we mean strictly what the word implies ; 
 and if we never speak of one as virtuous, 
 it is because man reserves the praise of 
 virtue to his own kind. The word good 
 supplies its place. A horse that has any 
 vice in him is never called good. 
 
 " In this case alone it is," says Lord Shaf- 
 tesbury, " we call any creature worthy or 
 virtuous, when it can have the notion of a 
 public interest, and can attain the specula- 
 tion or science of what is morally good or 
 ill, admirable or blameable, right or wrong. 
 For though we may vulgarly call a horse 
 vicious, yet we never say of a good one, 
 nor of any mere beast, idiot, or changeling, 
 though ever so good-natured, that he is 
 worthy or virtuous. 
 
 " So that if a creature be generous, kind, 
 constant, compassionate, yet if he cannot 
 reflect on what he himself does, or sees 
 others do, so as to take notice of what is 
 worthy or honest ; and make that notice or 
 conception of worth and honesty to be an 
 object of his affection, he has not the 
 character of being virtuous ; for thus, and 
 no otherwise, he is capable of having a sense 
 of right and wrong; a sentiment or judge- 
 ment of what is done through just, equal 
 and good affection, or the contrary." 
 
 The Jews upon 'this subject agree with 
 the common and natural opinion ; and the 
 Talmud accordingly, when any mischief has 
 
 been done by an animal, distinguishes be- 
 tween an innocent beast and a vicious one, 
 the owner of an innocent one being re- 
 quired to pay only half the amount of an 
 injury thus, as it was deemed, casualty in- 
 curred. There have been cases in which 
 the laws have considered a beast as guilty 
 of a crime, and amenable therefore to penal 
 justice. In the year 1403 Simon de Baude- 
 mont, Lieutenant at Meulont of Jhean Lord 
 of Maintenon, the Bailiff of Mantes and Meu- 
 lont, signed an attestation making known the 
 expences which had been incurred in order 
 to execute justice on a Sow that had eaten a 
 child. " For expences with the jail the 
 charge was 6 sols. Item, to the executioner 
 who came from Paris to Meulont to put the 
 sentence in execution by the command of 
 our Lord the Bailiff and of the king's At- 
 torney, 54 sols. Item, for the carriage that 
 conveyed her to execution, 6 sols. Item, 
 for ropes to tie and haul her up, 2 sols, 
 8 denier s. Item, for gloves 12 denier s; 
 amounting in the whole to 69 sols, 8 de- 
 niers." It must be supposed the Execu- 
 tioner insisted upon the gloves, as a point of 
 honour, that no one might reproach him 
 with having sullied his hands by performing 
 upon such a subject. 
 
 When Apollonius was introduced to the 
 King of Babylon, the King invited him to 
 sacrifice with him, for he was about to offer 
 a Nisean horse to the Sun, selected for its 
 beauty and adorned with all pomp for the 
 occasion. But the Philosopher replied, " O 
 King, do you sacrifice after your manner, 
 and give me leave to sacrifice after mine." 
 He then took frankincense, and prayed, 
 saying, " O Sun, conduct me so far as it 
 seemeth good to me and to thee. And let 
 me become acquainted with virtuous men ; 
 but as for the wicked, let me neither know 
 them nor they me." And throwing the 
 frankincense in the fire he observed the 
 smoke, how it ascended and which way it 
 bent, and just touching the fire when it 
 seemed that he had sacrificed enough, he 
 said to the King that he had performed the 
 rites of his country, and forthwith withdrew 
 that he might have nothing to do with blood
 
 650 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 and slaughter. Afterwards when the King 
 took him where were many lions, bears, and 
 panthers reserved for sport, invited him to go 
 with him and hunt them, Apollonius replied, 
 " King, you should remember, that I did not 
 choose to be present at your sacrifice, much 
 less should I like to see animals wounded, 
 and by the pain of their wounds rendered 
 more ferocious than nature has made them." 
 
 Isaac la Peyresc thought differently from 
 the Talmudists and the French Lawyers. 
 He says, quoting the Apostle, Ubi non est 
 lex, neque prcevaricatio est. Where ' no law 
 is, there is no transgression.' Prcevaricatio 
 autem eadem est, qua transgressio legis : ilia 
 ipsa proprie qua peccatum imputationis labe 
 infecit. Quod ut compingatur in oculos : 
 pecudes actualiter et materialiter eadem 
 faciunt, qua transgrediuntur homines ; in- 
 cestant, rapiunt, occidunt; non erit tamen 
 uspiam adeo supinus qui dicat, pecudes pec- 
 care ad similitudinem transgressionis homi- 
 nurn ; quia pecudes qua hac peccant, sequuntur 
 tantum suam naturam et suam materiam ; 
 neque legum transgrediuntur ullam, quia nulla 
 eis data est cujus transgressione formetur in 
 eis et imputetur peccatum. 
 
 Yet it cannot be doubted that in such a 
 case Peyresc himself, disregarding his own 
 arguments, would have ordered the Sow to 
 be put to death. 
 
 This author derives peccatum from pecus, 
 for, says he, " as often as a man wilfully de- 
 parts from that right reason which con- 
 stitutes him man, as often as under the 
 impulse of that brute matter which he has 
 in common with beasts, he commits any 
 action fitting in a beast, but unworthy in 
 man, so often he seems to fall below his 
 own species, and sink into that of a brute." 
 Lutini nomen peccati mutuati sunt a pecore. 
 Quoties enim homo delirat a recta ratione ilia 
 qua hominem constituit; quoties impulsu ma- 
 terial suce quam habet communem cum brutis, 
 quid agit dignum pecore, et indignum homine, 
 toties cadere videtur a specie sua, et incidere 
 in speciem pecoris sive bruti. 
 
 Pecunia is known to be derived from 
 Pecus, wealth, of which money is the repre- 
 sentative, having originally consisted in 
 
 cattle. As money is proverbially the root 
 of all evil, this etymological connection 
 might be remarkable enough to be deemed 
 mysterious by those who are fond of dis- 
 covering mysteries in words. 
 
 " Brutes," Hutchinson says, " are made in 
 scripture objects to inculcate the duties in 
 society, and even emblems of spiritual and 
 divine perfections. Many of them are more 
 strictly bound in pairs than is common be- 
 tween men and women ; many, both males 
 and females, take greater care and pains, 
 and run greater risques for the education 
 and defence of their young, than any of our 
 species. Many of them excel us in instruct- 
 ing their young, so in policy, in industry, 
 in mechanical arts and operations. And 
 there are other species among them, examples 
 to deter men from the vices in society." 
 " The power in brutes," he says, " is by the 
 same agent as that in the body of man, and 
 they are made of the same species of dust ; 
 most of them are guided by what is called 
 instinct ; some of them are tamed and dis- 
 ciplined and their powers made serviceable 
 to men, and all of them are subject to the 
 immediate power of God, when he pleases to 
 direct them. Mechanism is carried so far in 
 them, that in the parts or degrees of sensa- 
 tion they excel man ; that by every one of 
 their actions man might see the ne plus ultra 
 of sense, and know how to distinguish the 
 difference between them and the decayed 
 image in him, to value it accordingly, and 
 excite a proportionate zeal in him to recover 
 the first perfections in that image, and aug- 
 ment them to secure the pleasure of exer- 
 cising them upon the most desirable objects 
 to all eternity." So far so good, but this 
 once influential writer makes an erroneous 
 conclusion when he says, " if you allow any- 
 thing farther than mechanism to Brutes, 
 imagine that they have souls, or think, or 
 act the part of souls : you either begin to 
 think that you have no soul, or that it is, 
 such as are in Brutes, mortal." 
 
 The question de Origine et Natura Ani- 
 marum in Brutis was brought before the 
 Theologians of seven Protestant Academies 
 in the year 1635, by Daniel Sennertus, Pro-
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 651 
 
 fessor of Medicine at Witteraberg, of whose 
 Institutes Sir Thomas Browne says to a 
 student in that art, " assure yourself that 
 when you are a perfect master of them you 
 will seldom meet with any point in physic to 
 which you will not be able to speak like a 
 man." It was the opinion of this very 
 learned professor that what in scholastic 
 language is called the form of every perfect 
 thing, (distinguished from figure, forma 
 est naturae bonum,figura, artis opus,*) though it 
 is not a soul, yet even in precious stones is 
 something altogether different from the four 
 elements, and that every soul, or living 
 principle, is a certain quintessence ; the 
 wonderful operations in plants, and the 
 more wonderful actions of brute creatures, 
 far exceeding all power of the elements, 
 had convinced him of this. But for assert- 
 ing it, Freitagius the medical Professor at 
 Groninghen attacked him fiercely as a blas- 
 phemer and a heretic. Sennertus being 
 then an old man was more moved by this 
 outrage than became one of his attainments 
 and high character. So he laid the case 
 before the Universities of Leipsic, Rostock, 
 Basle, Marpurg, Konigsberg, Jena, Stras- 
 burg, and Altdorff, and he requested their 
 opinion upon these two propositions, whether 
 what he had affirmed, that the souls of brute 
 creatures had been created at first from 
 nothing by the Deity, and were not of an 
 elementary nature, but of something dif- 
 ferent, was blasphemous and heretical, or 
 whether it were not an ignorant opinion of 
 his assailant, that brute animals consisted 
 wholly of elementary matter, both as to 
 their body and soul ? 
 
 They all answered the questions more or 
 less at large, the Leipsic Doctors saying, 
 Officii nostri duximus esse ut in timore Domini 
 ea sub diligentem disquisitionem vocaremus. 
 They saw nothing irreligious in the opinion 
 that God at the creation had formed the 
 bodies of brutes from elementary matter, 
 and created their souls ex nihilo ; after which 
 both were reproduced in the natural course 
 of generation ; these souls, however, were not 
 immortal, nor so separable from the matter 
 with which they were united, as to survive 
 
 it, and exist without it, or return again into 
 their bodies ; but when the animals died, the 
 animal soul died also. Thus the excellence 
 of man was unimpaired, and the privilege of 
 the human soul remained inviolate, the pre- 
 rogative of man being that God had breathed 
 into him the breath of life, whereby he be- 
 came a living soul. Thus they fully ac- 
 quitted Sennertus of the charge brought 
 against him; and waiving any such direct 
 condemnation of his accuser as he had 
 desired, condemned in strong terms the 
 insolent manner in which the accusation had 
 been preferred. 
 
 The Theologians of Rostock replied more 
 briefly. Dismissing at once the charge 
 of blasphemy and heresy as absurd, they 
 treated the question as purely philosophical, 
 saying, Quod de elementari natura animarum 
 brutorum dicitur, de illo nostrum non est dis- 
 serere, Arbitramur, hcec non solum Philo- 
 sophorum, sed et libertati, super his modeste, 
 veritatis invenienda studio, philosophantium 
 permittenda; quos nimium constringere, et 
 unius hominis, Aristotelis, alteriwve, velle 
 alligare opinioni, pugnarc videtur cum natura 
 intellectus humani, quern nulli opinioni servum 
 Deus esse voluit. Concerning the second 
 question, they were not willing, they said, 
 to draw the saw of contention with any one ; 
 Si tamen, quod sentimus dicendum est, re- 
 spondemus, ilium qui cesium et terram ex ni- 
 hilo creavit, non eguisse ulld materia, ex qua 
 brutorum animus producer et ; sed illi placuisse 
 Us qua Moses recitat verbis compellare ter- 
 ram et aquam, et ad solius Omnipotevtis nutum 
 et imperium, ex subjectis qua compellarit, 
 animas emersisse. This answer Sennertus 
 obtained through his friend Lauremberg the 
 Horticulturist and Botanist, who advised 
 him at the same time to disregard all in- 
 vidious attacks ; Turbos tibi dari quod 
 libere philosophari satagis, id ipse nosti, neque 
 novum esse, neque insolens, hue estate. Ean- 
 dem tecum sortem experiuntur omnes eleganter 
 et solide eruditi, quibus qui paria facere non 
 valet, invidet et oblatrat. Tu verb noli hoc 
 nomine te quicquam macerare neu obtrecta- 
 tionem illam gravius vocare ad animum. Nota 
 est orbi tua eruditio, tua virtus et ingenuitas,
 
 652 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 qua ea propter nullam patietur jacturam. Tu 
 modo, ut hactenus fecisti, pergito bene mereri 
 de Republicd literarid, el mihi favere, certb 
 tibi persuasus, hdbere te hie loci hominem tui 
 anumtem, et observantem maxime. 
 
 Zuinger answered more at large for the 
 Faculty at Basle. They bade him not to 
 marvel that he should be accused of heresy 
 and blasphemy, seeing that the same charge 
 has been brought against their Theologians, 
 who when they taught according to Scrip- 
 ture that God alone was the Father of the 
 spirits as their parents were of their bodies, 
 and that the reasonable soul therefore was 
 not derived from their parents, but infused 
 and concreated OvpaOfv a Deo ap'tawc 
 were accused either of Pelagianism, as if 
 they had denied Original Sin, or of blas- 
 phemy, as if they had made God the author 
 of sin. They admonished him to regard 
 such calumnies more justly and quietly, for 
 evil and invidious tongues could never de- 
 tract from that estimation which he had won 
 for him in the Republic of Letters. Never- 
 theless as he had asked for their opinion, 
 they would freely deliver it. 
 
 First, then, as to the postulate which he 
 had premised in the Epistle accompanying 
 his Questions, that wherever there is crea- 
 tion, something is produced from nothing, 
 (ubicunque creatio est, ibi aliquid ex nihilo 
 producitur,} if by this he intended, that in no 
 mode of creation, whether it were jenVic, 
 or 7roo/<rie, or TrXairic, there was no sub- 
 strate matter out of which something was 
 made by the omnipotent virtue of the Deity, 
 in that case they thought, that his opinion 
 was contrary to Scripture, forasmuch as it 
 plainly appeared in the book of Genesis, 
 that neither the male nor female were 
 created from nothing, but the man from 
 the dust of the ground, and the woman from 
 one of his ribs, tanquam prcecedentibus cor- 
 porum matcriebiut. But though it is in- 
 dubitatle that the creation of the soul in 
 either parent was immediately ex nihilo, as 
 was shown in the creation of Adam, we see 
 nevertheless that the name of creation has 
 been applied by Moses to the formation 
 (plasmationi) of their bodies. But if Sen- 
 
 nertus's words were to be understood as in- 
 tending that wherever there was a creation, 
 something was produced in this either ex 
 nihilo absolutely, or relatively and Kara n 
 out of something, some preceding matter, 
 which though certainly in itself something, 
 yet relatively, that which is made out of 
 it, is nothing, (nihil, out non ens,) because it 
 hath in itself no power, liability, or aptitude 
 that it should either be, or become that 
 which God by his miraculous and omnipotent 
 virtue makes it, they had no difficulty in 
 assenting to this. As for example, the dust 
 of which God formed the body of Adam 
 was something and nothing. Something in 
 itself, for it was earth ; nothing in respect 
 of that admirable work of the human body 
 which God formed of it. 
 
 As for the question whether his opinion 
 was blasphemous and heretical, it could be 
 neither one nor the other, for it neither 
 derogated from the glory of God, nor touched 
 upon any fundamental article of faith. Some 
 there were who opined that Chaos was 
 created ex nihilo, which they understood by 
 Tohu Vabohu, from which all things celestial 
 and elementary were afterwards mediately 
 created by God. Others exploding Chaos 
 held that heaven, earth, water, and air, were 
 created ex nihilo. But they did not charge 
 each other with blasphemy and heresy be- 
 cause of this disagreement, and verily they 
 who thought that the souls of brutes were 
 originally created by God ex nihilo appeared 
 no more to derogate from the might, majesty 
 and glory of God, than those who held that 
 brutes were wholly created from the element. 
 The virtue of an omnipotent God became 
 in either case presupposed. 
 
 There was no heresy, they said, in his asser- 
 tion that the souls of brutes were not of an 
 elementary nature, but of something differ- 
 ent : provided that a just distinction were 
 made between the rational soul and the brute 
 soul, the difference being not merely specific 
 but generic. For the rational soul is alto- 
 gether of a spiritual nature and essence, 
 adebque Ens uti vacant transcendens, bearing 
 the image of God in this, that properly speak- 
 ing it is a spirit, as God is a Spirit. 2d.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 653 
 
 The rational soul as such, as Aristotle him- 
 self testifies, has no bodily energies, or opera- 
 tions ; its operations indeed are performed 
 in the body but not by the body, nor by 
 bodily organs ; but the contrary is true con- 
 cerning the souls of brutes. 3dly. The ra- 
 tional soul, though it be closely conjoined 
 with the body and hypostatically united 
 therewith, nevertheless is separable there- 
 from, so that ever out of the body sit 
 vtyiarapivov aliquod ; but the souls of 
 brutes are immersed in matter and in bodies, 
 so that they cannot subsist without them. 
 Lastly, the rational soul alone hath the privi- 
 lege of immortality, it being beyond all con- 
 troversy that the souls of brutes are mortal 
 and corruptible. These differences being 
 admitted, and saving the due prerogative, 
 excellence, and as it were divinity of the 
 rational soul, the Theological Faculty of 
 Basle thought it of little consequence if any 
 one held that the souls of brutes were of 
 something different from elementary matter. 
 They delivered no opinion in condem- 
 nation of his assailant's doctrine, upon the 
 ground that the question was not within 
 their province. Cerium est, they said, 
 uti formas rerum omnium difficulter, et non 
 nisi a posteriori, et per certas irspiaTarrtic, 
 cognoscere possumus ; ita omnium difficittime 
 Animarum naturam nos pervestigare posse, 
 nostramque, uti in aliis, ita in hac muterid, 
 scientiam esse, ut scite Scaliger loquitur, um- 
 bram in sole. Ac non dubium, Deum hie 
 ragabundis contemplationibus nostris pvnere 
 voluisse, ut disceremus imbecillitatis et ccEcita- 
 tis nostrtB conscientid humiliari, cum stupore 
 opera ejus admirari, atque cum modestia et 
 sobrietate philosophari. They declared, how- 
 ever, that the rational soul differed from that 
 of brutes in .its nature, essence, properties 
 and actions, and that this was not to be 
 doubted of by Christians : that the soul of 
 brutes was not spiritual, not immaterial, 
 that all its actions were merely material, and 
 performed by corporeal organs, and they 
 referred to Sennertus's own works as rightly 
 affirming that it was partible, et dividatur ad 
 divisionem materice, ita ut cum corporis parte 
 aliquid animce possit avetti, inferring here, as 
 
 it seems from a false analogy, that animal life 
 was like that of vegetables, qua ex parte a 
 plantd avulsd propagantur. 
 
 They entered also into some curious criti- 
 cism metaphysical and philological upon 
 certain texts pertinent to the questions before 
 them. When the dust became lice through- 
 out all the land of Egypt, the mutation of 
 the dust into lice was to be understood : so 
 too in the creation of Adam, and the for- 
 mation of Eve, there could be no doubt 
 concerning the matter from which both were 
 made. But when water was miraculously 
 produced from the rock, and from the hollow 
 place in the jaw, ibi sane nemo sanus dicet, 
 aquam e petrd out maxilla d Deo ita fuisse 
 productam, ut petra out maxilla materiam 
 aqua huic praebuerit. 
 
 The answer from Marpurg was short and 
 satisfactory. There also the Professors 
 waived the philosophical question, saying, 
 Nos falcem in alienam messem non mittemus, 
 nee Morychi in alieno choro pedem nostrum 
 ponemus, sed nostro modulo ac pede nos metie- 
 mur, nobis id etiam dictum putantes, ru virtp 
 t'jfias ovStv Trpoe jj/jcu;. Nobis nostra vendica- 
 bimus, Philosophis philosophica relinquentes. 
 Tertullian, they said, had asserted that Phi- 
 losophers were the Patriarchs of Heretics, 
 nevertheless a philosophical opinion, while it 
 keeps within its own circles, and does not 
 interfere with the mysteries of faith, is no 
 heresy. They adduced a subtle argument 
 to show that upon the point in question there 
 was no real difference between something 
 and nothing. Creatio ex nihilo intelligitur 
 fieri turn rations sui principii, quod est nihilum 
 negativum ; turn ratione indispositionis, ob 
 quam materia, ex qua aliquid Jit, in produc- 
 tione pro nihilo habetur. Quamvis igitur 
 animcB bestiarum dicerentur in Creatione ex 
 potentid matericB eductte, nihilominus ob indii- 
 positionem materice quam forma eductce mul- 
 tum superant, ex nihilo creata essent. And 
 they agreed with Luther, and with those 
 other Divines who held that the words in 
 the first Chapter of Genesis whereby the 
 Earth was bade to bring forth grass, herbs, 
 trees, and living creatures after their kind, 
 and the water to bring forth fishes, were to
 
 654 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 be strictly understood, the earth and the 
 waters having, ex Dei benedictions, active et 
 vere produced them. 
 
 The answer from Konigsberg was not less 
 favourable. The dispute which Freitagius 
 had raised, infelix ilia auppaZis they called 
 it, ought to have been carried on by that 
 Professor with more moderation. Granting 
 that the souls of brutes were not created 
 separately like human souls but conjointly 
 with the body, it still remained doubtful 
 quomodo se habuerit divinum partim ad aquam 
 et terramfactum mandatum, partim simultanea 
 brutalium animarum cum corporibus creatio. 
 For earth and water might here be variously 
 considered, 1, as the element, 2, as the mat- 
 ter, 3, as the subject, and 4, ut mater vel 
 vivus uterus ad animalium productionem im- 
 mediata Dei operations exaltatus. Water 
 and earth themselves were first created, and 
 on the fifth the vital and plastic power was 
 communicated to them, in which by virtue 
 of the omnipotent word they still consist. 
 They were of opinion that the souls of brutes 
 and of plants also were divinely raised above 
 an elementary condition, it being always 
 understood that the human soul far trans- 
 cended them. The expression of Moses 
 that formed every beast and every fowl out 
 of the ground, proved not the matter whereof, 
 but the place wherein they were formed. 
 
 The Faculty at Jena returned a shorter 
 reply. The ingratitude of the world toward 
 those who published their lucubrations upon 
 such abstruse points, reminded them, they 
 said, of Luther's complaint in one of his 
 Prefaces : Sape recordor boni Gersonis dubi- 
 tantis num. quid boni publice scribendum et 
 proferendum sit. Si scriptio omittitur, multce 
 animcB negliguntur, qua liberari potuissent ; 
 si verb ilia prcEstatur, statim Diabolus prcestb 
 est cum linguis pestiferis et calumniarum ple- 
 nis, quee omnia corrumpunt et inficiunt. What 
 was said of the production of fish, plants, 
 and animals might be understood synec- 
 dochically, salvd verborum Mosaicorum in- 
 tegritate, as the text also was to be understood 
 concerning the creation of ma-.i, where it is 
 said that the Lord formed him of the dust 
 of the earth, and immediately afterwards 
 
 that he breathed into his nostrils the breath 
 of life. 
 
 The Strasburg Divines entered upon the 
 subject so earnestly that their disquisition 
 far exceeds in length the whole of the com- 
 munications from the other Universities. 
 Sennertus could not have wished for a more 
 elaborate or a more gratifying reply. The 
 Faculty at Altdorff said that the question 
 was not a matter of faith, and therefore no 
 one could be obnoxious to the charge of 
 heresy for maintaining or controverting either 
 of the opposite opinions. They seem, how- 
 ever, to have agreed with neither party ; not 
 with Freitagius, because they denied that 
 brute souls were of an elementary nature ; 
 not with Sennertus, because they denied that 
 they were created at first from nothing. It 
 is manifest, said they, that they are not now 
 created from nothing, because it would fol- 
 low from thence that they subsist of them- 
 selves, and are not dependent upon matter, 
 and are consequently immortal, which is 
 absurd. It remained therefore that the 
 souls of brutes, as they do not now receive 
 their existence from mere nothing, so neither 
 did they at the first creation, but from some- 
 thing presupposed, which the Peripatetics 
 call the power of matter or of the subject, 
 which from the beginning was nothing else, 
 and still is nothing else, than its propension 
 or inclination to this or that form. Qua 
 forma multiplex, cum etiam in potentia primi 
 subjecti passiva pracesserit, per miraculosam 
 Dei actionem ex ilia fuit educta, aclumque 
 essendi completum in variis animalium specie- 
 bus accepit. 
 
 Sennertus either published these papers 
 or prepared them for publication just before 
 his death. They were printed in octavo at 
 Wittenberg, with the title De Origins et 
 Natura Animarum in Brutis, Sententice CL 
 Theologorum in aliquot Germanics Academiis, 
 1638. Sprengel observes that none of the 
 Historians of Philosophy have noticed, 
 
 Ctetera desunt.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 655 
 
 CHAPTER CCXL. 
 
 THE JESUIT GABASSE'S CENSURE OF HUARTE 
 AND BARCLAY. EXTRAORDINARY INVESTI- 
 GATION. THE TENDENCY OF NATURE TO 
 PRESERVE ITS OWN ARCHETYPAL FORMS. 
 THAT OF ART TO VARY THEM. PORTRAITS. 
 MORAL AND PHYSICAL CADASTRE. PARISH 
 
 CHRONICLER AND PARISH CLERK THE DOC- 
 TOR THOUGHT MIGHT BE WELL UNITED. 
 
 Is't you. Sir, that know things ? 
 SOOTH. In nature's infinite book of secresy, 
 
 A little I can read. SUAKSPEARE. 
 
 THE Jesuit Garasse censured bis contem- 
 poraries Huarte and Barclay for attempting, 
 the one in bis JExamen de los Ingenios, the 
 other in bis Icon Animorum, to class men 
 according to their intellectual characters : 
 ces deiix Autheurs, says he, se sont rendus cri- 
 minels cotitre V esprit de Fhomme, en ce quils 
 ont enirepris de ranger en cinq ou six cahiers, 
 toutes les diversitez des esprits qui peuvent 
 estre parmy les hommes, comme qui voudroit 
 verser toute lean de la mer dans une coquille. 
 For his own part, he had learned, he said, 
 et par la lecture, et par V experience, que les 
 hommes sont plus dissemblables en esprit qu'en 
 visage. 
 
 Garasse was right ; for there goes far 
 more to the composition of an individual cha- 
 racter, than of an individual face. It has 
 sometimes happened that the portrait of one 
 person has proved also to be a good likeness 
 of another. Mr. Hazlitt recognised his own 
 features and expression in one of Michael 
 Angelo's devils. And in real life two faces, 
 even though there be no relationship between 
 the parties, may be all but indistinguishably 
 alike, so that the one shall frequently be 
 accosted for the other ; yet no parity of 
 character can be inferred from this resem- 
 blance. Poor Capt. Atkins, who was lost in 
 the Defence off the coast of Jutland in 1811, 
 had a double of this kind, that was the tor- 
 ment of his life ; for this double was a 
 swindler, who having discovered the lucky 
 facsimileship, obtained goods, took up money, 
 and at last married a wife in his name. Once 
 when the real Capt. Atkins returned from 
 
 a distant station, this poor woman, who was 
 awaiting him at Plymouth, put off in a boat, 
 boarded the ship as soon as it came to anchor, 
 and ran to welcome him as her husband. 
 
 The following Extraordinary Investiga- 
 tion, cut out of a Journal of the day, would 
 have excited our Doctor's curiosity, and 
 have led him on to remoter speculations. 
 
 " On Tuesday afternoon an adjourned 
 inquest was held at the Christchurch work- 
 house, Boundary-row, Blackfriars-road, be- 
 fore Mr. R. Carter, on the body of Eliza Baker, 
 aged 17, who was found drowned at the steps 
 of Blackfriars-bridge, on Saturday morning, 
 by a police constable. Mr. Peter Wood, 
 an eating-house-keeper, in the Bermondsey 
 New-road, near the Bricklayers Arms, hav- 
 ing seen a paragraph in one of the Sunday 
 newspapers, that the body of a female bad 
 been taken out of the Thames on the pre- 
 vious day, and carried to the workhouse to 
 be owned, and, from the description given, 
 suspecting that it was the body of a young 
 female who had lived in his service, but who 
 had been discharged by his Avife on account 
 of jealousy, he went to the workhouse and 
 recognised the body of the unfortunate girl. 
 He was very much agitated, and he cut off 
 a lock of her hair, and kissed the corpse. 
 He immediately went to an undertaker, and 
 gave orders for the funeral. He then went 
 to the deceased's parents, who reside in Ade- 
 laide-place, Whitecross-street, Cripplegate, 
 and informed them of the melancholy fate 
 of their daughter. They also went to the 
 workhouse, and, on being shown the body, 
 were loud in their lamentations. 
 
 " On the Jury having assembled on Mon- 
 day evening, they proceeded to view the 
 body of the deceased, and, on their return, 
 a number of witnesses were examined, mostly 
 relations, who swore positively to the body. 
 From the evidence it appeared that the de- 
 ceased had lived with Mr. Wood as a ser- 
 vant for four months, but his wife being 
 jealous, she was discharged about a month 
 ago, since which time Mr. Wood had secretly 
 supplied her with money, and kept her from 
 want. Mrs. Baker, the mother of the de- 
 ceased, and other relations, in giving their
 
 G5G 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 evidence, spoke in severe terms of the con- 
 duct of Mr. Wood, and said that they had 
 no doubt but that he had seduced the unfor- 
 tunate girl, which had caused her to commit 
 suicide. 
 
 " The Jury appeared to be very indignant, 
 and, after five hours' deliberation, it was 
 agreed to adjourn the case until Tuesday 
 afternoon, when they re-assembled. Mr. 
 Wood, the alleged seducer, was now present, 
 but he was so overcome by his feelings at 
 the melancholy occurrence, that nothing 
 could be made of him ; in fact, he was like 
 a man in a state of stupefaction. Mrs. Wood, 
 the wife, was called in ; she is twenty-eight 
 years older than her husband, and shook her 
 head at him, but nothing was elicited from 
 her, her passion completely overcoming her 
 reason. 
 
 " A Juryman. ' The more we dive into 
 this affair the more mysterious it appears 
 against Mr. Wood.' 
 
 " This remark was occasioned on account 
 of some marks of violence on the body ; there 
 had been a violent blow on the nose, a black 
 mark on the forehead, and a severe wound 
 on the thigh. The Jury were commencing 
 to deliberate on their verdict, when a dray- 
 man in the employ of Messrs. Whitbread 
 and Co., brewers, walked into the jury- 
 room, and said that he wished to speak to 
 the Coroner and Jury. 
 
 " Mr. Carter. ' What is it you want ? ' 
 
 "Drayman. ' I comes to say, gentlemen, 
 that Mrs. Baker's daughter, you are now 
 holding an inquest on, is now alive and in 
 good health.' 
 
 " The Coroner and Jury (in astonishment). 
 ' What do you say ? ' 
 
 "Drayman. Til swear that I met her 
 to-day in the streets, and spoke to her. ' 
 
 " The Coroner, Witnesses, and Jury were 
 all struck with amazement, and asked the 
 drayman if he could bring Eliza Baker 
 forward, which he undertook to do in a short 
 time. 
 
 " In the interim the Jury and Witnesses 
 went again to view the body of the deceased. 
 Mr. Wood shed tears over the corpse, and 
 was greatly affected, as well as her relations : 
 
 the drayman's story was treated as nonsense, 
 but the Jury, although of the same opinion, 
 were determined to await his return. In 
 about a quarter of an hour the drayman re- 
 turned, and introduced the real Eliza Baker, 
 a fine looking young woman, and in full 
 health. To depict the astonishment of the 
 relations and of Mr. Wood is totally impos- 
 sible, and at first they were afraid to touch 
 her. She at last went forward, and took 
 Mr. Wood by the hand (who stood motion- 
 less), and exclaimed, ' How could you make 
 such a mistake as to take another body for 
 mine ? Do you think I would commit such 
 an act ? ' Mr. Wood could not reply, but 
 fell senseless in a fit, and it was with great 
 difficulty that seven men could hold him. 
 After some time he recovered, and walked 
 away, to the astonishment of every one, 
 with Eliza Baker, leaving his wife in the 
 jury-room. Several of the Jurors remarked 
 that they never saw such a strong likeness 
 in their lives as there was between Eliza 
 Baker and the deceased, which fully ac- 
 counted for the mistake that the Witnesses 
 had made. 
 
 "The whole scene was most extraordi- 
 nary, and the countenances of Witnesses and 
 Jurymen it is impossible to describe. There 
 was no evidence to prove who the deceased 
 was : and the Jury, after about eleven 
 hours' investigation, returned a verdict of 
 ' Found drowned,' but by what means the 
 deceased came into the water there is no 
 evidence to prove." 
 
 But in such likenesses, the resemblance is 
 probably never so exact as to deceive an in- 
 timate friend, except upon a cursory glance, 
 at first sight : even between twins, when 
 any other persons might be perplexed, the 
 parents readily distinguish. The varieties of 
 countenances are far more minute, and con- 
 sequently more numerous, than would ap- 
 pear upon light consideration. A shepherd 
 knows the face of every sheep in his flock, 
 though to an inexperienced eye they all 
 seem like one another. 
 
 The tendency of Nature is to preserve its 
 own archetypal forms, the tendency of art 
 and of what is called accident being to vary
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 657 
 
 them. The varieties which are produced in 
 plants by mere circumstances of soil and 
 situation are very numerous, but those 
 which are produced by culture are almost 
 endless. Moral and physical circumstances 
 effect changes as great, both externally and 
 internally, in man. Whoever consults the 
 elaborate work of Dr. Prichard on the Phy- 
 sical History of Mankind, may there see it 
 established by the most extensive research 
 and the most satisfactory proofs, that the 
 varieties of the human race, great and 
 striking as they are, are all derived from 
 one stock ; philosophical inquiry here, when 
 fully and fairly pursued, confirming the 
 scriptural account, as it has done upon every 
 subject which is within the scope of human 
 investigation. 
 
 Dr. Dove, in the course of his professional 
 practice, had frequent opportunities of ob- 
 serving the stamp of family features at 
 those times when it is most apparent ; at 
 birth, and in the last stage of decline, for 
 the elementary lines of the countenance 
 come forth as distinctly in death as they 
 were shaped in the womb. It is one of the 
 most affecting circumstances connected with 
 our decay and dissolution, that all traces of 
 individual character in the face should thus 
 disappear, the natural countenance alone 
 remaining, and that in this respect, the fresh 
 corpse should resemble the new-born babe. 
 He had, in the same way, opportunities for 
 observing that there were family dispositions 
 both of body and mind, some remaining 
 latent till the course of time developed them, 
 and others, till circumstances seemed as it 
 were to quicken them into action. Whether 
 these existed in most strength where the 
 family likeness was strongest, was a point 
 on which his own observation was not ex- 
 tensive enough for him to form an opinion. 
 Speculatively he inclined to think that 
 moral resemblances were likely to manifest 
 themselves in the countenance, but that 
 constitutional ones must often exist where 
 there could be no outward indication of 
 them. Thus a family heart, (metaphorically 
 speaking,) may be recognised in the " life, 
 conduct, and behaviour," though the face 
 
 should be a false index ; and hereditary 
 tendencies in the great organs of life show 
 themselves only in family diseases. 
 
 Under our Saxon Kings, a person was 
 appointed in every great Monastery to 
 record public events, register the deaths, 
 promotions, &c. in the community, and enter 
 in this current chronicle every occurrence 
 in the neighbourhood which was thought 
 worthy of notice. At the end of every 
 reign, a summary record was compiled from 
 these materials, and to this we owe our 
 Saxon Chronicle, the most ancient and au- 
 thentic in Europe. 
 
 But he often regretted that in every 
 generation so much knowledge was lost, and 
 that so much experience was continually 
 allowed to run to waste, many very many 
 of the evils which afflict mankind being oc- 
 casioned by this neglect, and perpetuated 
 by it. Especially he regretted this in his 
 own art : and this regret would not have 
 been removed if Medical Journals had been 
 as numerous in his days as they are at 
 present. His wishes went much farther. 
 
 We are told that in the sixteenth century 
 the great Lords in France piqued them- 
 selves upon having able and learned men 
 for their secretaries, and treated them as 
 their friends. The principal business of 
 such secretaries was to keep a journal of 
 the most interesting events ; and the masters 
 having witnessed or borne a part in the 
 business of state, were well able to inform 
 them of the intrigues and tortuous policy of 
 their own times. From such journals it is 
 that most of those old Memoirs have been 
 formed, in which French literature is so 
 peculiarly rich. They usually include as 
 much general history as is in any way con- 
 nected with the personage whom the writer 
 served. 
 
 Boswell, who if ever man went to Heaven 
 for his good works, has gone there for his 
 life of Johnson, Boswell, I say, thought, 
 and Johnson agreed with him, that there 
 ought to be a chronicler kept in every con- 
 siderable family, to preserve the characters 
 and transactions of successive generations. 
 In like manner, Milton's friend, Henry
 
 658 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 More, the Platonist and Poet, would have 
 
 If it may stand with your soft blush, to hear 
 
 bad the stories of apparitions and witchcraft 
 
 Yourself but told unto yourself, and see 
 In my character what your features be, 
 
 publicly recorded, as they occurred in every 
 
 You will not from the paper slightly pass. 
 
 parish, thinking that this course would 
 
 No lady, but at some time loves her glass. 
 And this shall be no false one, but as much 
 
 prove " one of the best antidotes against 
 
 Removed, as you from need to have it such.f 
 
 that earthly and cold disease of Sadducism 
 
 There was once a German who, being a 
 
 and Atheism," which he said, " if not pre- 
 
 poet, physician, and physiognomist, saw in a 
 
 vented might easily grow upon us, to the 
 
 vision of Paradise Physiognomy herself, and 
 
 hazard of all religion and the best kinds of 
 
 received from her a most gracious com- 
 
 philosophy." Our philosopher had more 
 
 o 
 
 pliment, which lay buried among the 
 
 comprehensive notions of what ought to be. 
 He wished not only for such domestic chro- 
 
 Heidelberg Manuscripts in the Vatican, till 
 Frederick Adelung, in the year 1799, 
 
 nicles, but that in every considerable family 
 
 brought it to light some centuries after the 
 
 there should be a compleat set of portraits 
 preserved in every generation, taken in so 
 
 very name of the poet had perished. Read 
 the compliment, reader, if thou canst, as 
 
 small a size that it might never be necessary 
 
 given by the German antiquary, without 
 
 to eject them in order to make room for 
 
 note, comment, glossary, or punctuation. 
 
 others. When this had been done for some 
 
 I can answer for the fidelity of my tran- 
 
 centuries, it might be seen how long a 
 
 script, though not of his text. 
 
 family likeness remains : whether Nature 
 
 
 J 
 
 Z mir in gar glicher wise 
 
 repeats her own forms at certain times, or 
 
 Quam us hymels paradyse 
 
 after uncertain intervals ; or whether she 
 
 I'd manic/i schiine frouive name 
 
 allows them to be continually modified, as 
 
 Jeglicher vol die kron zam 
 Sie varen schonc unit gecleil 
 
 families intermarry, till the original type at 
 
 Vrauwelicher zuchte mynnekeit 
 
 last may altogether be obliterated. 
 
 Sie zifrt ine danne riche gewant 
 Mir waTt iglicher name bekant 
 
 In China there are not only learned men, 
 
 Wanne er in geschriben iras 
 
 whose business it is to record everything 
 
 An ir vorgespan als ich las 
 
 remarkable that is either said or done by 
 
 PHISONOMIA kunstenriche 
 Gut lie fit redt wider mich 
 
 the reigning Emperor, (which is done for 
 
 Wir byden dich herre bescheiden 
 
 his own instruction, as well as for that of 
 
 Dai du in goltes geleiden 
 Dust machen myne lobrlicfi kunst 
 
 his successors,) but the great families have, 
 
 So hastu mynneclichen gunst 
 
 in like manner, their records, and these are 
 
 Von mir und myner gespi/en vil 
 
 considered as the most precious part of the 
 
 Der igliche dich des bidden wil 
 Das du in erkcnncn gebest 
 
 inheritance which descends from sire to son. 
 
 Und flu in unser friintscfiaft lebest 
 
 All who aspire to any high office are re- 
 
 Alleine din cleit sy donne 
 Got wil dir geben solich wonne 
 
 quired to be well acquainted with the history 
 
 Die mannich gelertcr mane 
 
 of their ancestors, and in that history their 
 
 Hummer mer gewynnen kan. 
 
 indispensable qualifications are examined. 
 
 There was no truth in Physiognomy when 
 
 That excellent good man Gilpin drew up 
 
 she made this promise to her medico-poet. 
 
 a family record of his great-grandfather, 
 
 Yet he deserved her gratitude, for he taught 
 
 grandfather, and father, who had all been 
 
 that her unerring indications might be read 
 
 " very valuable men." " I have often 
 
 not in the countenance alone, but in all the 
 
 thought," said he, " such little records might 
 
 members of the human body. 
 
 be very useful in families ; whether the sub- 
 
 In cases of disputed inheritance, when it 
 
 jects of them were good or bad. A light- 
 
 is contended that the heir claimant is not 
 
 house may serve equally the purpose of 
 
 the son of his reputed father, but a spurious 
 
 leading you into a haven, or deterring you 
 
 or supposititious child, such a series of por- 
 
 from a rock." * 
 
 traits would be witnesses, he thought, 
 
 * WAKNER'S RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 t BEN JONSON. 

 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 659 
 
 against whose evidence no exception could 
 be taken. Indeed such evidence would have 
 disproved the impudent story of the Warm- 
 ing Pan, if anything had depended upon 
 legitimacy in that case ; and in our times it 
 might divest D. Miguel of all claim to the 
 crown of Portugal, by right of birth. 
 
 But these legal and political uses he re- 
 garded as trifling, when compared with the 
 physiological inferences which in process of 
 time might be obtained, for on this subject 
 Mr. Shandy's views were far short of Dr. 
 Dove's. The improvement of noses would 
 be only an incidental consequence of the 
 knowledge that might be gathered from the 
 joint materials of the family portrait gallery, 
 and the family chronicle. From a com- 
 parison of these materials it might be in- 
 ferred with what temperaments of mind and 
 of body, with what qualities good or evil, 
 certain forms of feature, and certain charac- 
 ters of countenance, were frequently found 
 to be connected. And hence it might ulti- 
 mately be learned how to neutralise evil 
 tendencies by judicious intermarriages, how 
 to sweeten the disposition, cool the temper, 
 and improve the blood. 
 
 To be sure there were some difficulties in 
 the way. You might expect from the family 
 chronicler a faithful notice of the diseases 
 which had proved dangerous or fatal ; to 
 this part of his duty there could be no ob- 
 jection. But to assure the same fidelity 
 concerning moral and intellectual failings or 
 vices, requires a degree of independence 
 not to be hoped for from a writer so cir- 
 cumstanced. If it had still been the cus- 
 tom for great families to keep a Fool, as in 
 old times, our Philosopher in his legislative 
 character would have required that the 
 Fool's more notable sayings should be re- 
 corded, well knowing that in his privileged 
 freedom of speech, and the monitions and 
 rebukes which he conveyed in a jest, the de- 
 siderated information would be contained. 
 But in our present state of manners he 
 could devise no better check upon the family 
 historiographer, no better provision against 
 his sins, both of omission and of commission, 
 than that of the village or parish chronicle ; 
 
 for in every village or parish he would have 
 had every notable event that occurred within 
 its boundaries duly and authentically re- 
 corded. And as it should be the Chronicler's 
 duty to keep a Remembrancer as well as a 
 Register, in which whatever he could gather 
 from tradition, or from the recollections of 
 old persons, was to be preserved, the real 
 character which every person of local dis- 
 tinction had left behind him among his 
 domestics and his neighbours would be 
 found here, whatever might be recorded 
 upon his monument. 
 
 By these means, one supplying the defi- 
 ciencies of the other, our Philosopher thought 
 a knowledge of the defects and excellencies 
 of every considerable family might be ob- 
 tained, sufficient for the purposes of physio- 
 logy, and for the public good. 
 
 There was a man in the neighbouring vil- 
 lage of Bentley, who, he used to say, would 
 have made an excellent Parish Chronicler, 
 an office which he thought might well be 
 united with that of Parish Clerk.* This 
 person went by the name of Billy Dutch- 
 man : he was a journeyman stone-mason, 
 and kept a book wherein he inserted the 
 name of every one by whom he had been 
 employed, how many days he had worked 
 in every week, and how many he had been 
 idle, either owing to sickness or any other 
 cause, and what money he had earned in 
 each week, summing up the whole at the 
 year's end. His earning in the course of 
 nine and twenty years, beginning in 1767, 
 amounts to 583 18s. 3d., being, he said, 
 upon an average, seven shillings and nine- 
 pence a-week. 
 
 The Doctor would have approved of 
 Jacob Abbott's extension of his own plan 
 and adaptation of it to a moral and religious 
 
 * Such a Chronicler is old JAMES LONG now 77 years 
 of age 50 of which he has served in the capacity of 
 Parish Clerk of West- Tarring, in the County of Sussex. 
 There is no by-gone incident in this, or the neighbouring 
 Parishes, no mere-stone or balk with which he is not 
 acquainted. Aged and truthful Chronicler '. 
 
 Enjoy thy plainness 
 Jt nothing ill becomes thee 
 
 Since the above was written the old man has been 
 gathered to his fathers. Requicscat in face !
 
 660 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 purpose. Jacob Abbott, without any view 
 to the physical importance of such docu- 
 ments, advises that domestic journals should 
 be kept : " Let three or four of the older 
 brothers and sisters of a family agree to 
 write a history of the family ; any father 
 would procure a book for this purpose, and 
 if the writers are young, the articles in- 
 tended for insertion in it might be written 
 first on separate paper, and then corrected 
 and transcribed. The subjects suitable to 
 be recorded in such a book will suggest 
 themselves to every one ; a description of 
 the place of residence at the time of com- 
 mencing the book, with similar descriptions 
 of other places from time to time, in case 
 of removals ; the journies or absences of the 
 head of the family or its members ; the sad 
 scenes of sickness or death which may be 
 witnessed, and the joyous ones of weddings, 
 or festivities, or holydays ; the manner in 
 which the members are from time to time 
 employed ;' and pictures of the scenes which 
 the fire-side group exhibits in the long 
 winter evening, or the conversation which 
 is heard, and the plans formed at the supper 
 table or in the morning walk. 
 
 " If a family, where it is first established, 
 should commence with such a record of their 
 own efforts and plans, and the various deal- 
 ings of Providence towards them, the father 
 and the mother carrying it on jointly until 
 the children are old enough to take the pen, 
 they would find the work a source of great 
 improvement and pleasure. It would tend 
 to keep distinctly in view the great objects 
 for which they ought to live ; and repeatedly 
 recognizing, as they doubtless would do, the 
 hand of God, they would feel more sensibly 
 and more constantly their dependence upon 
 him." 
 
 CHAPTER CCXLL 
 
 THE DOCTOR'S UTOPIA DENOMINATED COLUM- 
 BIA. HIS SCHEME ENTERED UPON BUT 
 
 " LEFT HALF TOLD " LIKE " THE STORT 
 OF CAMBUSCAN BOLD." 
 
 I will to satisfy and please myself, make an Utopia of 
 mine own, a new Atlantis, a poetical commonwealth of 
 mine own, in which I will freely domineer, build cities, 
 make laws, statutes, as I list myself. And why may I not 'i 
 
 BURTON. 
 
 THE Doctor's plan would have provided 
 materials for a moral and physiological Ca- 
 dastre, or Domesday Book. This, indeed, 
 is the place for stating what the reader, 
 knowing as much as he knows of our Philo- 
 sopher, will not be surprised to hear, that 
 Dr. Dove had conceived an Utopia of his 
 own. He fixed it an island, thinking the 
 sea to be the best of all neighbours, and he 
 called it Columbia, not as pretending that it 
 had been discovered by his " famous name- 
 sake," but for a reason which the sagacious 
 may divine. 
 
 The scheme of his government had under- 
 gone many changes, although from the be- 
 ginning it was established upon the eternal 
 and immutable principles of truth and jus- 
 tice. Every alteration was intended to be 
 final ; yet it so happened that, notwithstand- 
 ing the proposed perpetuity of the structure, 
 and the immutability of the materials, he 
 frequently found cause to exercise the im- 
 perscriptible and inalienable right of alter- 
 ing and improving his own work. He jus- 
 tified this, as being himself sole legislator, 
 and moreover the only person in existence 
 whose acceptance of the new constitution 
 was necessary for its full establishment ; and 
 no just objection, he said, could be ad- 
 vanced against any of these changes, if they 
 were demonstrably for the better, not 
 merely innovations, but improvements also ; 
 for no possible revolution, however great, or 
 however suddenly effected, could occasion 
 the slightest evil to his Commonwealth. 
 Governments in nubibus being mended as 
 easily as they are made, for which, as for 
 many other reasons, they are so much better
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 66J 
 
 than any that are now actually existing, 
 have existed, or ever will exist. 
 
 At first he denominated his Common- 
 wealth an latrarchy, and made the Archia- 
 tros, or Chief Physician, head of the state. 
 But upon after consideration he became 
 convinced that the cares of general govern- 
 ment, after all the divisions and subdivisions 
 which could be made, were quite enough 
 for any one head, however capacious and 
 however strong, and however ably assisted. 
 Columbia, therefore, was made an absolute 
 monarchy, hereditary in the male line, ac- 
 cording to the Salic law. 
 
 How did he hold sweet dalliance with his crown, 
 And wanton with dominion, how lay down, 
 Without the sanction of a precedent, 
 Rules of a most large and absolute extent, 
 Rules which from sense of public virtue spring, 
 And all at once commence a Patriot King ! 
 
 O Simon Bolivar, once called the Liberator, 
 if thou couldst have followed the example 
 of this less practical but more philosophical 
 statesman, and made and maintained thyself 
 as absolute monarch of thy Columbia, well 
 had it been for thy Columbians and for 
 thee ! better still for thyself, it may be 
 feared, if thou hadst never been born. 
 
 There was an order of hereditary nobles 
 in the Doctor's Columbia; men were raised 
 to that rank as a just reward for any signal 
 service which they had rendered to the 
 state ; but on the other hand an individual 
 might be degraded for any such course of 
 conduct as evinced depravity in himself, or 
 was considered as bringing disgrace upon 
 his order. The chiefs of the Hierarchy, the 
 latrarchy, the Nomarchy and the Hoplarchy, 
 (under which title both sciences, naval and 
 military, were comprised,) were, like our 
 Bishops, Peers of the realm by virtue of 
 their station, and for life only. 
 
 I do not remember what was the scheme 
 of representation upon which his House of 
 Commons was elected, farther than it com- 
 menced with universal suffrage and ascended 
 through several stages, the lowest assembly 
 choosing electors for the next above it, so 
 that the choice ultimately rested with those 
 
 * CHURCHILL 
 
 who from their education and station of life 
 might be presumed to exercise it with due 
 discretion. Such schemes are easily drawn 
 up; making and mending constitutions, to 
 the entire satisfaction of the person so em- 
 ployed, being in truth among the easiest 
 things in the world. But like most Uto- 
 pianisers the legislator of this Columbia had 
 placed his Absolute King and his free 
 People under such strict laws, and given 
 such functions to the local authorities, and 
 established such compleat and precise order 
 in every ty thing, that the duties of the legis- 
 lative body were easy indeed ; this its very 
 name imported ; for he called it the Conser- 
 vative Assembly. 
 
 Nor is Crown-wisdom any quintessence 
 Of abstract truth, or art of Government, 
 More than sweet sympathy, or counterpease 
 Of humours, tcmper'd happily to please, t 
 
 The legislator of Columbia considered 
 good policy as a very simple thing. He said 
 to his King, his Three Estates and his col- 
 lective nation, with the inspired lawgiver, 
 " and now Israel what doth the Lord thy 
 God require of thee, but to fear the Lord 
 thy God, to walk in all his ways, and to love 
 him, and to serve the Lord thy God with all 
 thy heart and with all thy soul : to keep the 
 commandments of the Lord and his statutes, 
 which I command thee, this day, for thy 
 good ? " And he added with St. Paul, " now 
 the end of the commandment is charity, out 
 of a pure heart, and of a good conscience, 
 and of faith unfeigned." 
 
 Take care of the pennies, says the frugal 
 old Proverb, and the pounds will take care 
 of themselves. Les petites choses, says M. 
 de Custine, sont tout ce qu'on sent de F exis- 
 tence ; les grandes se savent, ce qui est tres- 
 different. Take care of little things, was the 
 Doctor's maxim as a legislator, and great 
 ones will then proceed regularly and well. 
 He was not ignorant that legislators as well 
 1 as individuals might be penny-wise and 
 pound foolish ; proofs enough he had seen 
 in the conduct of the English Government, 
 and many more and more glaring ones he 
 
 t LORD BROOKE.
 
 662 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 would have seen if he had lived to behold 
 the progress of (Economical reform and libe- 
 ral legislation. He also knew that an over- 
 attention to trifles was one sure indication 
 of a little mind ; but in legislation as in 
 experimental philosophy, he argued, that 
 circumstances which appeared trifling to the 
 ignorant were sometimes in reality of essen- 
 tial importance, that those things are not 
 trifles upon which the comfort of domestic 
 life, the peace of a neighbourhood, and the 
 stability of a state depend, and yet all these 
 depend mainly upon things apparently so 
 trifling as common schools and parochial 
 government. 
 
 " I have ever observed it," says Ben Jon- 
 son, "to have been the office of a wise 
 patriot, among the greatest affairs of the 
 state, to take care of the commonwealth of 
 learning. For schools they are the semi- 
 naries of state ; and nothing is worthier the 
 study of a statesman, than that part of the 
 republic which we call the advancement of 
 letters." 
 
 CHAPTER CCXLH. 
 
 FARTHER REMARKS UPON THE EFFECTS OF 
 SCHISM, AND THE ADVANTAGES WHICH IT 
 AFFORDS TO THE ROMISH CHURCH AND TO 
 INFLDEIJTY. 
 
 lo non ci ho interresso 
 Nessun, ne vi fui mai, ne manco c/iieggo 
 Per quel ch" to ne vd dir, d" esservi messo. 
 Vd dir, che senza passion eleggo, 
 E nonforzato, e senza pigliar parte; 
 Di dime lutlo quel, ch' intendo e veggo. 
 
 BRONZING PITTORB. 
 
 ONE cause why infidelity gained ground 
 among the middle and the lower classes was, 
 that owing to the increase of population, the 
 growth of the metropolis, and the defects of 
 our Church Establishment, no provision had 
 been made for their religious instruction. 
 Every one belonged to a parish, but in popu- 
 lous parishes a small part only of the parish- 
 ioners belonged to the Clergyman's flock ; 
 his fold in very many places would not have 
 contained half, and in some not a tenth of 
 them ; they were left therefore as stray 
 
 sheep, for false shepherds and for the wolf. 
 This was the main cause of the increase of 
 dissenters among us, and their increase oc- 
 casioned an increase of infidelity. Many 
 of their ministers and more of their students, 
 revolting against the monstrous doctrines 
 of Calvinism, passed from one extreme to the 
 other, more gradually indeed than their 
 brethren have done in Germany, in Geneva, 
 and in New England, for they halted awhile 
 on Arian ground, before they pitched their 
 tents in the debateable land of Socinianism, 
 where not a few of them afterwards crossed 
 the border. The principle of Nonconform- 
 ity itself led naturally to this consequence ; 
 it scornfully rejected that reasonable and 
 well-defined submission to authority re- 
 quired by the Church of England, which is 
 the true Catholic Church ; and thus it 
 encouraged, and indeed invited, tutors and 
 pupils at their Academies to make their own 
 immature and ill-instructed reason the test 
 of all truths. A good and wise man has 
 well remarked that " what men take for, or 
 at least assert to be, the dictates of their 
 conscience, may often in fact be only the 
 dictates of their pride." With equal truth 
 also he has said that he who " decides for 
 himself in rejecting what almost all others 
 receive, has not shewn himself at least in 
 one instance to be a ' wise man ; ' he does 
 not ' know that he is a fool.'" 
 
 This cause was continually operating upon 
 their students and younger ministers during 
 the latter half of the last century. It was 
 suspended first by the missionary spirit, 
 which called forth a high degree of enthu- 
 siasm, and gave that feeling its most useful 
 direction, and secondly by the revival of 
 political Puritanism, as soon as the succes- 
 sors of the Parliamentary Divines thought 
 themselves strong enough to act as a party 
 in the state, and declare war against the 
 Establishment. But as in that time, so in a 
 greater degree at present, the floating popu- 
 lation, who by no fault of their own are 
 extra-parochial as to all purposes of church- 
 worship and religious instruction, are as 
 much endangered by facility of change, as 
 the students used to be by their boasted
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 663 
 
 liberty of choice. Sectarian history might 
 supply numerous examples ; one may be 
 related here for the extraordinary way in 
 which it terminated. I know not from what 
 community of Christians the hero of the tale 
 strayed over to the Methodists, but he en- 
 joyed for awhile the dream of perfection, and 
 the privilege of assurance as one of their mem- 
 bers. When this excitement had spent itself, 
 he sought for quietness among the Quakers, 
 theed his neighbour, wore drab, and would 
 not have pulled offhis hat to the King. After 
 awhile, from considering, with them, that 
 baptism was a beggarly element, he passed 
 to the opposite extreme ; it was not enough 
 for him to have been sprinkled in his in- 
 fancy, he must be dipped over head and ears 
 in the water, and up he rose, rejoicing as 
 he shook his dripping locks, that he was now 
 a Baptist. His zeal then took another direc- 
 tion ; he had a strong desire to convert the 
 lost sheep of Israel ; and off he sets from a 
 remote part of the country to engage in 
 single controversy with a learned Rabbi in 
 one of the Midland counties. Tell it not 
 in Duke's-Place ! Publish it not in the 
 Magazine of the Society for converting the 
 Jews! The Rabbi converted him : and if 
 the victor in the dispute had thought proper 
 to take the spolia opima which were fairly 
 lost, the vanquished would have paid the 
 penalty, as he conceived himself in honour 
 and in conscience bound. He returned home 
 glorying in his defeat, a Jew in everything 
 but parentage and the outward and visible 
 sign. The sons of the synagogue are not 
 ambitious of making converts, and they did 
 not choose to adopt him by performing the 
 initiating rites. He obtained it, however, 
 from a Christian surgeon, who, after many 
 refusals, was induced at length in humanity 
 to oblige him, lest, as he solemnly declared 
 he would, he should perform it upon himself. 
 They who begin in enthusiasm, passing in 
 its heat and giddiness from one sect to ano- 
 ther, and cooling at every transition, gene- 
 rally settle in formalism, where they find 
 some substantial worldly motives for becom- 
 ing fixed ; but where the worldly motives 
 are wanting, it depends upon temperament 
 
 and accident whether they run headlong into 
 infidelity, or take refuge from it in the 
 Roman Catholic church. The papal clergy 
 in England have always known how to fish 
 in troubled waters ; and when the waters 
 are still, there are few among them who 
 have not been well instructed in the art of 
 catching gudgeons. Our clergy have never 
 been, in the same sense, fishers of men. 
 
 In an epigram written under the portrait 
 of Gibbon, as unquotable at length, as it is 
 unjust in part of the lines which may be 
 quoted, the face is said to be 
 
 the likeness of one 
 
 \Vho through every religion in Europe has run 
 And ended at last iu believing in none. 
 
 It was a base epigram which traduced the 
 historian's political character for no other 
 reason than that he was not a Whig; and it 
 reproached him for that part of his conduct 
 which was truly honourable, the sincerity 
 with which, when ill-instructed, he became 
 a Roman Catholic, and the propriety with 
 which, after full and patient investigation, 
 he gave up the tenets of the Romish church 
 as untenable. That he proceeded farther, 
 and yielded that which can be maintained 
 against the Gates of Hell, is to be lamented 
 deeply for his own sake, and for those in 
 whom he has sown the seeds of infidelity. 
 But the process from change to change is a 
 common one, and the cases are few wherein 
 there is so much to extenuate the culpability 
 of the individual. It was not in the self- 
 sufficiency of empty ignorance that Gibbon 
 and Bayle went astray ; generally the danger 
 is in proportion to the want of knowledge ; 
 there are more shipwrecks among the shal- 
 lows than in the deep sea. 
 
 During the great Rebellion, when the 
 wild beasts had trampled down the fences, 
 broken into the vineyard and laid it waste, 
 it is curious to observe the course taken by 
 men who felt for various causes, according 
 to their different characters, the necessity of 
 attaching themselves to some religious com- 
 munion. Cottington, being in Spain, found 
 it convenient to be reconciled to the Romish 
 church ; the dominant religion being to him, 
 as a politician, the best. Weak and plodding
 
 664 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 men like Father Cressey took the same turn 
 in dull sincerity : Davenant, because he 
 could not bear the misery of a state of 
 doubt, and was glad to rest his head upon 
 the pillow of authority ; Goring from remorse; 
 Digby (a little later) from ambition, and 
 Lambert, because he was sick of the freaks 
 and follies of the sectaries. 
 
 Their " opinions and contests," says Sir 
 Philip Warwick, " flung all into chaos, and 
 this gave the great advantages to the Ro- 
 manists, who want not their differences 
 among themselves, but better manage them; 
 for they having retained a great part of 
 primitive truths, and having to plead some 
 antiquity for their many doctrinal errors 
 and their ambitious and lucrative encroach* 
 ments, and having the policy of flinging 
 coloquintida into our pot, by our dissentions 
 and follies, they have with the motion of the 
 circle of the wheel, brought themselves who 
 were at the Nadir, to be almost at the Zenith 
 of our globe." 
 
 In no other age (except in our own and 
 now from a totally different cause) did the 
 Papists increase their numbers so greatly in 
 this kingdom. And infidelity in all its grades 
 kept pace with Popery. " Look but upon 
 many of our Gentry," says Sanderson, 
 (writing under the Commonwealth,) " what 
 they are already grown to from what they 
 were, within the compass of a few years : 
 and then ex pede Herculem ; by that, guess 
 what a few years more may do. Do we not 
 see some, and those not a few, that have 
 strong natural parts, but little sense of 
 religion turned (little better than professed) 
 Atheists. And other some, nor those a few, 
 that have good affections, but weak and un- 
 settled judgements, or (which is still but the 
 same weakness) an overweening opinion of 
 their own understandings, either quite 
 turned, or upon the point of turning Pa- 
 pists ? These be sad things, God knoweth, 
 and we all know, not visibly imputable to 
 anything so much, as to those distractions, 
 confusions, and uncertainties that in point 
 of religion have broken in upon us, since 
 the late changes that have happened among 
 us in church affairs." 
 
 The Revolution by which the civil and 
 religious liberties of the British nation were, 
 at great cost, preserved, stopped the growth 
 of Popery among us for nearly an hundred 
 years: but infidelity meanwhile was little 
 impeded in its progress by the occasional 
 condemnation of a worthless book ; and the 
 excellent works which were written to expose 
 the sophistry, the ignorance, and the mis- 
 representations of the infidel authors seldom 
 found readers among the persons to whom 
 they might have been most useful. It may 
 be questioned whether any of Jeremy Ben- 
 tham's misbelieving disciples has ever read 
 Berkeley's Minute Philosopher, or the kin- 
 dred work of Skelton which a London book- 
 seller published upon Hume's imprimatur. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXLIH. 
 
 BREVITY BEING THE SOUL OF WIT THE 
 AUTHOR STUDIES CONCISENESS. 
 
 You need not fear a surfeit, here is but little, and that 
 light of digestion. QUARLES. 
 
 WHO was Pompey ? 
 
 " The Dog will have his day," says Shake- 
 speare. And the Dog must have his Chap- 
 ter, say I. But I will defer writing that 
 Chapter till the Dog-days. 
 
 CHAPTER CCXLIV. 
 
 THE AUTHOR VENTURES TO SPEAK A WORD 
 
 ON CHRISTIAN CHEERFULNESS : QUOTES 
 
 BEN S1RACH, SOLOMON, BISHOP HACKET, 
 WALTER SAVAGE LANDOH, BISHOP REY- 
 NOLDS, MILTON, ETC. 
 
 'AXACC ff"V TCIV-TOC, fACtOzjV, fitOTOV XOTt Ti^fJUt, 
 
 "Yux'fTur iyxUati TAij&xa^Ojttsvej. SlMoNlDES. 
 
 IN the thirtieth chapter of the Book called 
 Ecclesiasticus, and at the twenty-fifth verse, 
 are these words 
 
 A cheerful and a good heart will have a care of his meat 
 and diet. 
 
 This is not the text to a sermon, but the 
 beginning of a Chapter. There is no reason 
 why a chapter, as well as a sermon, should 
 not be thus impressively introduced : and if 
 this Chapter should neither be so long as a
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 665 
 
 sermon, nor so dull as those discourses 
 which perchance and (I fear) per-likeli- 
 hood, it may be thy fortune to hear, O 
 Reader, at thy parish church, or in phrase 
 nonconformist, to sit under at the conven- 
 ticle, it will be well for thee : for having 
 began to read it, I dare say thou wilt peruse 
 it orally, or ocularly, to the end. 
 
 A cheerful and a good heart the Doctor 
 had ; ay, as cheerful and good a one as 
 ever man was blessed with. He held with 
 Bishop Hacket, that melancholy was of all 
 humours the fittest to make a bath for the 
 Devil, and that cheerfulness and innocent 
 pleasure preserve the mind from rust, and 
 the body from putrifying with dulness and 
 distempers ; wherefore that Bishop of good 
 and merry memory would sometimes say, he 
 did not like to look upon a sour man at 
 dinner, and if his guests were pleased within, 
 would bid them hang out the white flag in 
 their countenance. 
 
 Udite, udite amid, un cor giocondo 
 E Rey del Mondo. 
 
 And if the poet says true, (which I will be 
 sworn he does,) our Doctor might be more 
 truly King of the World, than Kehama after 
 he had performed his sacrifice. 
 
 His cheerfulness he would not have ex- 
 changed for all the bank-bills which ever 
 bore the signature of Abraham New land, or 
 his successor Henry Hase ; he thanked his 
 Maker for it ; and that it had been kept 
 from corruption, and made so far good as 
 (with all Christian humility) to be self-ap- 
 proved; he thanked his heavenly Father 
 also for the free grace vouchsafed him, and 
 his earthly one for having trained him in 
 the way that he should go. 
 
 Cheerful and grateful takers the Gods love, 
 And such as wait their pleasures with full hopes ; 
 The doubtful and distrustful man Heaven frowns at.* 
 
 Being thus cheerful and good, he had that 
 care of his meat and diet which the son of 
 Sirach commends in the text, and notices as 
 an indication of cheerfulness and goodness. 
 
 Understand me, Reader : and understand 
 the author of the Wisdom. It was not such 
 a care of his meat and diet as Apicius has 
 
 * BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. 
 
 been infamed for in ancient, and Darteneuf 
 in modern times ; not such as Lucullus was 
 noted for, or Sir William Curtis, with whom 
 Lucullus, had he been an English East In- 
 dian Governor, instead of a Roman Praetor, 
 might have been well pleased to dine. Read 
 Lander's conversation between Lucullus and 
 Csesar, if thou art a scholar, Reader, and if 
 anything can make thee think with respect 
 and admiration of Lucullus, it will be the 
 beautiful strain of feeling and philosophy 
 that thou wilt find there. Wouldst thou see 
 another work of first-rate genius, not less 
 masterly in its kind, go and see Chantrey's 
 bust of Sir William Curtis ; and when thou 
 shalt have seen what he hath made of that 
 countenance, thou wilt begin to think it not 
 impossible that a silk purse may be made of 
 a sow's ear. Shame on me that in speaking 
 of those who have gained glory by giving 
 good dinners, I should have omitted the 
 name of Michael Angelo Taylor, he having 
 been made immortal for this his great and 
 singular merit ! 
 
 Long before the son of Sirach, Solomon 
 had spoken to the same effect : "there is no- 
 thing better for a man than that he should 
 eat and drink, and that he should make his 
 soul enjoy good in its labour. This also I 
 saw that it was from the hand of God." 
 " Go thy way," said the wisest of monarchs 
 and of men, in his old age, when he took a 
 more serious view of his past life ; the 
 honours, pleasures, wealth, wisdom, he had 
 so abundantly enjoyed ; the errors and mis- 
 carriages which he had fallen into ; the large 
 experience and many observations he had 
 made, of things natural, moral, domestical : 
 civil, sensual, divine : the curious and criti- 
 cal inquiry he had made after true happi- 
 ness, and what contribution all things under 
 the sun could afford thereunto : "Go thy 
 way," he said, " eat thy bread with joy, and 
 drink thy wine with a merry heart ! " 
 
 " Inasmuch," says Bishop Reynolds in his 
 commentary upon this passage, "as the dead 
 neither know, nor enjoy, any of these worldly 
 blessings ; and inasmuch as God gives them 
 to his servants in love, and as comfortable 
 refreshments unto them in the days of their
 
 666 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 vanity, therefore he exhorteth unto a cheer- 
 ful fruition of them, while we have time and 
 liberty so to do ; that so the many other 
 sorrows and bitterness which they shall 
 meet with in this life, may be mitigated and 
 sweetened unto them. He speaketh not of 
 sensual, epicurean, and brutish excess ; but 
 of an honest, decent, and cheerful enjoy- 
 ment of blessings, with thankfulness, and in 
 the fear of God." " A merry heart," the 
 Bishop tells us, might in this text have been 
 rendered a good one ; as, in other parts of 
 scripture, a sad heart is called an evil heart. 
 " It is pleasing unto God," says the Bishop, 
 "that when thou hast in the fear of his 
 name, and in obedience to his ordinance, 
 laboured, and by his blessing gotten thee 
 thine appointed portion, then thou shouldst, 
 after an honest, cheerful, decent and liberal 
 manner, without further anxiety or solicit- 
 ousness, enjoy the same. This is the prin- 
 cipal boundary of our outward pleasures and 
 delights, still to keep ourselves within such 
 rules of piety and moderation, as that our 
 ways may be pleasing unto God. And this 
 shows us the true way to find sweetness in 
 the creature, and to feel joy in the fruition 
 thereof; namely, when our persons and our 
 ways are pleasing unto God : for piety doth 
 not exclude, but only moderate earthly de- 
 lights ; and so moderate them, that though 
 they be not so excessive as the luxurious 
 and sensual pleasures of foolish epicures, yet 
 they are far more pure, sweet, and satis- 
 factory, as having no guilt, no gall, no curse, 
 nor inward sorrow and terrors attending on 
 them." 
 
 Farther the Bishop observes, that food 
 and raiment, being the substantiall of out- 
 ward blessings, Solomon has directed unto 
 cheerfulness in the one, and unto decency 
 and comeliness in the other. He hath advised 
 us also to let the head lack no ointment, 
 such perfumes being an expression of joy 
 used in feasts ; " the meaning is," says the 
 Bishop, " that we should lead our lives with 
 as much freeness, cheerfulness, and sweet 
 delight, in the liberal use of the good bless- 
 ings of God, as the quality of our degree, 
 the decency of our condition, and the rules 
 
 of religious wisdom, and the fear of God, do 
 allow us ; not sordidly or frowardly deny- 
 ing ourselves the benefit of those good things 
 which the bounty of God halh bestowed 
 upon us." 
 
 It is the etiquette of the Chinese Court 
 for the Emperor's physicians to apply the 
 same epithet to his disease as to himself 
 so they talk of his most high and mighty 
 diarrhoea. 
 
 At such a point of etiquette the Doctor 
 would laugh but he was all earnestness 
 when one like Bishop Hacket said, " Do not 
 disgrace the dignity of a Preacher, when 
 every petty vain occasion doth challenge the 
 honour of a sermon before it. If ever there 
 were TO ciov OUK lv TW Stbvn, a good 
 work marred for being done unreasonably," 
 (in the Doctor's own words, Grace before 
 a shdtish meal, a dirty table-cloth) " now it 
 is when grace before meat will not serve 
 the turn, but every luxurious feast must 
 have the benediction of a preacher's pains 
 before it. Quis te ferat ccenantem ut Lucul- 
 lus, concionantem ut Cato f Much less is it 
 to be endured, that somebody must make a 
 sermon, before Lucullus hath made a sup- 
 per. It is such a flout upon our calling 
 methinks, as the Chaldeans put upon the 
 Jews in their captivity, they in the height 
 of their jollity must have one of the Songs 
 of Siim." 
 
 The Doctor agreed in the main with Lord 
 Chesterfield in his opinion upon political 
 dieteticks. 
 
 " The Egyptians who were a wise nation," 
 says that noble author, " thought so much 
 depended upon diet, that they dieted their 
 kings, and prescribed by law both the 
 quality and quantity of their food. It is 
 much to be lamented, that those bills of fare 
 are not preserved to this time, since they 
 might have been of singular use in all 
 monarchical governments. But it is reason- 
 ably to be conjectured, from the wisdom of 
 that people, that they allowed their kings 
 no aliments of a bilious or a choleric nature, 
 and only such as sweetened their juices, 
 cooled their blood, and enlivened their fa- 
 culties, if they had any."
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 667 
 
 He then shows that what was deemed 
 necessary for an Egyptian King is not less 
 so for a British Parliament. For, " suppose," 
 he says, " a number of persons, not over- 
 lively at best, should meet of an evening to 
 concert and deliberate upon public mea- 
 sures of the utmost consequence, grunting 
 under the load and repletion of the strongest 
 meats, panting almost in vain for breath, 
 but quite in vain for thought, and reminded 
 only of their existence by the unsavoury 
 returns of an olio ; what good could be 
 expected from such a consultation? The 
 best one could hope for would be, that they 
 were only assembled for show, and not for 
 use ; not to propose or advise, but silently to 
 submit to the orders of some one man there, 
 who, feeding like a rational creature, might 
 have the use of his understanding. 
 
 " I would therefore recommend it to the 
 consideration of the legislature, whether it 
 may not be necessary to pass an act, to re- 
 strain the licentiousness of eating, and assign 
 certain diets to certain ranks and stations ; 
 I would humbly suggest the strict vegetable 
 as the properest ministerial diet, being ex- 
 ceedingly tender of those faculties in which 
 the public is so highly interested, and very 
 unwilling they should be clogged or in- 
 cumbered." 
 
 " The Earl of Carlisle," says Osborne, in 
 his Traditional Memorials, " brought in the 
 vanity of ante-suppers, not heard of in our 
 forefathers' time, and for aught I have read, 
 or at least remember, unpractised by the 
 most luxurious tyrants. The manner of 
 which was, to have the board covered at 
 the first entrance of the guests, with dishes, 
 as high as a tall man could well reach, filled 
 with the choicest viands sea or land could 
 afford : and all this once seen, and having 
 feasted the eyes of the invited, was in a 
 manner thrown away, and fresh set on to 
 the same height, having only this advantage 
 of the other, that it was hot. 
 
 " I cannot forget one of the attendants of 
 
 the King, that at a feast made by thii mon- 
 ster in excess, eats to his single share a 
 whole pye, reckoned to my Lord at ten 
 pounds, being composed of ambergreece, 
 magisteriall of pearl, musk, &c., yet was so 
 far, (as he told me,) from being sweet in the 
 morning, that he almost poisoned his whole 
 family, flying himself, like the Satyr, from 
 his own stink. And after such suppers huge 
 banquets no less profuse, a waiter returning 
 his servant home with a cloak-bag full of 
 dried sweetmeats and confects, valued to 
 his Lordship at more than ten shillings the 
 pound." 
 
 But, gentle and much esteemed Reader, 
 and therefore esteemed because gentle, in- 
 stead of surfeiting thy body, let me recreate 
 thy mind, with the annexed two Sonnets 
 of Milton, which tell of innocent mirth, and 
 the festive but moderate enioyment of the 
 rational creature. 
 
 TO MR. LAWRENCE. 
 
 LAWRENCE, of virtuous father virtuous SOD, 
 
 Now that the fields are dank, and ways are mire, 
 Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire 
 Help waste a sullen day, what may be won 
 
 From the hard season, gaining ? time will run 
 On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire 
 The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire 
 The lily and rose, that neither sow'd nor spun. 
 
 What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice, 
 Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise 
 To hear the lute well touch'd, or artful voice 
 
 Warble immortal notes of Tuscan air ? 
 
 He who of these delights can judge, and spare 
 To interpose them oft, is not unwise. 
 
 TO SYRIAC SKINNER. 
 
 CYRIAC, whose grandsire on the royal bench 
 Of British Themis, with no mean applause 
 Pronounc'd, and in his volumes taught our laws, 
 Which others at their bar so often wrench ; 
 
 To day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench 
 In mirth, that after no repenting draws : 
 Let Euclid rest, and Archimedes pause, 
 And what the Swede intends, and what the French. 
 
 To measure life learn thou betimes, and know 
 
 Toward solid good what leads the nearest way ; 
 For other things mild Heav'n a time ordains, 
 
 And disapproves that care, though wise in show. 
 That with superfluous burden loads the day 
 And when God sends a cheerful hour refraitu.
 
 f)0u canrft cttre rlje tofcjj anft ffjc nttirtr, 
 3Ra JBoctor, tmtl) tfjg ttD0 
 
 ught ti) fije one fcfatt, 
 antf tijc ffluge tyt ot^cr part ; 
 3irtf Sot!) So tocn tTjat tljou tocH fiotft iro^t pltaiSe, 
 Cijc nttntf tott^ pleasure, anU tlje corpse tuttT) ajsfe. 
 
 DAVIES OF HEREFOBB.
 
 A LOVE FRAGMENT FOR THE LADIES, IN- 
 TRODUCED BY A CURIOUS INCIDENT WHICH 
 THE AUTHOR BEGS THEY WILL EXCUSE. 
 
 Now will ye list a little space, 
 And I shall send you to solace ; 
 You to solace and be blyth, 
 Hearken ! ye shall hear belyve 
 A tale that is of verity. 
 
 ROSWALL AND LILLIAN. 
 
 A STORY was told me with an assurance that 
 it was literally true, of a Gentleman who 
 being in want of a wife, advertised for one, 
 and at the place and time appointed was met 
 by a Lady. Their stations in life entitled 
 them to be so called, and the Gentleman as 
 well as the Lady was in earnest. He, how- 
 ever, unluckily seemed to be of the same 
 opinion as King Pedro was with regard to 
 his wife Queen Mary of Aragon, that she 
 was not so handsome as she might be good, 
 so the meeting ended in their mutual dis- 
 appointment. Coelebs advertised a second 
 time, appointing a different Square for the 
 place of meeting, and varying the words of 
 the advertisement. He met the same Lady, 
 they recognised each other, could not 
 choose but smile at the recognition, and per- 
 haps neither of them could choose but sigh. 
 You will anticipate the event. The per- 
 severing Bachelor tried his lot a third time 
 in the newspapers, and at the third place of 
 appointment he met the equally persevering 
 Spinster. At this meeting neither could 
 help laughing. They began to converse in 
 good humour, and the conversation became 
 so agreeable on both sides, and the circum- 
 stance appeared so remarkable, that this 
 
 third interview led to a marriage, and the 
 marriage proved a happy one. 
 
 When Don Argentes Prince of Galdasse 
 had been entrapped into the hands of a 
 revengeful woman whose husband he had 
 slain in fair combat, he said to two hand- 
 some widows who were charged every day 
 to punish him with stripes, que par raison Id 
 on se se voit une grande beaute ria pas lieu la 
 cruaute ou autre vice and the Chronicler 
 of this generation of the house of Amadis, 
 observes that this assertion fut bien verifie 
 en ces deux jeunes veufues donees de grande 
 beaute, lesquelles considerans la beaute et dis- 
 position de cejeune chevalier et la vertu de sa 
 personne, presterent Voreille aux raisons quil 
 alleguoit pour son excuse, et aux louanges qu'il 
 lew donnoit de rare et singuliere beaute, de 
 maniere quelles eurent pitie de luy. 
 
 " I can hardly forbear fancying," says 
 Lord Shaftesbury, " that if we had a sort of 
 Inquisition, or formal Court of Judicature, 
 with grave Officers and Judges, erected to 
 restrain poetical licence, and in general to 
 suppress that fancy and humour of versifi- 
 cation, but in particular that most extrava- 
 gant passion of Love, as it is set out by 
 Poets, in its heathenish dress of Venus's and 
 Cupids; if the Poets, as ringleaders and 
 teachers of this heresy, were under grievous 
 penalties forbid to enchant the people by 
 their vein of rhyming ; and if the People, on 
 the other side, were under proportionable 
 penalties forbid to hearken to any such charm, 
 or lend their attention to any love-tale, so 
 much as in a play, a novel, or a ballad ; we 
 might perhaps see a new Arcadia arising out
 
 670 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 of this heavy persecution. Old people and 
 young would be seized with a versifying 
 spirit ; we should have field conventicles of 
 Lovers and Poets ; forests would be filled 
 with romantic Shepherds and Shepherdesses ; 
 and rocks resound with echoes of hymns and 
 praises offered to the powers of Love. We 
 might indeed have a fair chance, by this 
 management, to bring back the whole train 
 of Heathen Gods, and set our cold Northern 
 Island burning with as many altars to Venus 
 and Apollo, as were formerly in Cyprus, 
 Delos, or any of those warmer Grecian 
 climates." 
 
 But I promised you, dear Ladies, more 
 upon that subject which of all subjects is 
 and ought to be the most interesting to you, 
 because it is the most important. You have 
 not forgotten that promise, and the time has 
 now come for fulfilling it. 
 
 Venus, unto thee for help, good Lady, I do call, 
 For thou wert wont to grant request unto thy servants all ; 
 Even as thou didst help always ..Eneas thine own child, 
 Appeasing the God Jupiter with countenance so mild 
 That though that Juno to torment him on Jupiter did 
 
 preace, 
 Yet for the love he bare to thee, did cause the winds to 
 
 cease ; 
 
 I pray thee pray the Muses all to help my memory, 
 That I may have ensamples good in defence of feminye. 
 
 Something has been said upon various ways 
 which lead to love and matrimony ; but what 
 I have to say concerning imaginative love 
 was deferred till we should arrive at the 
 proper place for entering upon it. 
 
 More or less, imagination enters into all 
 loves and friendships, except those which 
 have grown with our growth, and which 
 therefore are likely to be the happiest be- 
 cause there can be no delusion in them. 
 Cases of this kind would not be so frequent 
 in old romances, if they did not occur more 
 frequently in real life than unimaginative 
 persons could be induced to believe, or 
 made to understand. 
 
 Sir John Sinclair has related a remarkable 
 instance in his Reminiscences. He was once 
 invited by Adam Smith to meet Burke and 
 Mr. Windham, who had arrived at Edin- 
 burgh with the intention of making a short 
 
 * EDWARD MORE. 
 
 tour in the Highlands. Sir John was con- 
 sulted concerning their route ; in the course 
 of his directions he dwelt on the beauty oi 
 the road between Dunkeld and Blair ; 
 and added, that instead of being cooped up 
 in a post-chaise, they would do well to get 
 out and walk through the woods and beau- 
 tiful scenes through which the road passes, 
 especially some miles beyond Dunkeld. 
 
 Some three years afterwards Mr. Wind- 
 ham came up to Sir John in the House of 
 Commons, and requested to speak to him for 
 a few moments behind the Speaker's chair. 
 " Do you recollect," said he, " our meeting 
 together at Adam Smith's at dinner?" 
 " Most certainly I do." 
 
 " Do you remember having given us 
 directions for our Highland tour, and more 
 especially to stroll through the woods be- 
 tween Dunkeld and Blair ? " " I do." 
 
 Mr. Windham then said, " In consequence 
 of our adopting that advice, an event took 
 place of which I must now inform you. 
 Burke and I were strolling through the 
 woods about ten miles from Dunkeld, when 
 we saw a young female sitting under a tree, 
 with a book in her hand. Burke imme- 
 diately exclaimed, ' Let us have a little 
 conversation with this solitary damsel, and 
 see what she is about.' We accosted her 
 accordingly and found that she was reading 
 a recent novel from the London press. We 
 asked her how she came to read novels, and 
 how she got such books at so great a dis- 
 tance from the metropolis, and more espe- 
 cially one so recently published. She 
 answered that she had been educated at a 
 boarding-school at Perth, where novels 
 might be had from the circulating library, 
 and that she still procured them through 
 the same channel. We carried on the con- 
 versation for some time, in the course of 
 which she displayed a great deal of smart- 
 ness and talent ; and at last we were obliged, 
 very reluctantly, to leave her, and proceed 
 on our journey. We afterwards found that 
 she was the daughter of a proprietor of 1 hat 
 neighbourhood who was known under the 
 name of the Baron Maclaren. I have 
 never been able," continued Mr. Windham,
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 671 
 
 " to get this beautiful mountain nymph out 
 of my head ; and I wish you to ascertain 
 whether she is married or single." And he 
 begged Sir John Sinclair to clear up this 
 point as soon as possible, for much of his 
 future happiness depended upon the result 
 of the inquiry. 
 
 If not the most important communication 
 that ever took place behind the Speaker's 
 chair, this was probably the most curious 
 one. Sir John lost no time in making the 
 desired inquiry. He wrote to a most re- 
 spectable clergyman in the neighbourhood 
 where Miss Maclaren lived, the Rev. Dr. 
 Stewart, minister of Moulin ; and was in- 
 formed in reply, that she was married to a 
 medical gentleman in the East Indies of the 
 name of Dick. " Upon communicating this 
 to Mr. Windham," says Sir John, " he 
 seemed very much agitated. He was soon 
 afterwards married to the daughter of a 
 half-pay officer. I have no doubt, however, 
 that had Miss Maclaren continued single, he 
 would have paid her his addresses." 
 
 This is an example of purely imaginative 
 love. But before we proceed with that sub- 
 ject, the remainder of Sir John Sinclair's 
 story must be given. Some years afterward 
 he passed some days at Duneira in Perth- 
 shire, with the late Lord Melville, and in 
 the course of conversation told him this 
 anecdote of Mr. Windham. Upon which 
 Lord Melville said, " I am more interested 
 in that matter than you imagine. You must 
 know that I was riding down from Blair to 
 Dunkeld in company with some friend, and 
 we called at Baron Maclaren's, where a most 
 beautiful young woman desired to speak 
 with me. We went accordingly to the bank 
 of a river near her father's house, when she 
 said, ' Mr. Dundas, I hear that you are a 
 very great man, and what is much better, a 
 very good man, I will venture therefore to 
 tell you a secret. There is a young man in 
 this neighbourhood who has a strong attach- 
 ment to me, and to confess the truth, I have 
 a great regard for him. His name is Wil- 
 liam Dick ; he has been bred to the medical 
 profession ; and he says, that if he could 
 get to be a surgeon in the East Indies, he 
 
 could soon make his fortune there, and 
 would send for me to marry him. Now I 
 apply to you, Mr. Dundas, as a great and 
 good man, in hopes that you can do some- 
 thing for us : and be assured that we shall 
 be for ever grateful, if you will procure him 
 an appointment.' " 
 
 Mr. Dundas was so much struck with the 
 impressive manner of her address, that he 
 took her by the hand and said, " My good 
 girl, be assured that if an opportunity offers, 
 I shall not forget your application." The 
 promise was not forgotten. It was not long 
 before an East India Director with whom 
 he was dining, told him that he had then at 
 his disposal an appointment of surgeon in 
 the East India Company's service, and of- 
 fered it to him for any one whom he would 
 wish to serve in that line. Dundas imme- 
 diately related his adventure, much to the 
 amusement of the Director. Mr. Dick ob- 
 tained the appointment, and was soon able 
 to send for his betrothed. She had several 
 offers in the course of the voyage and after 
 her arrival, but she refused to listen to any 
 one. Her husband attained to great emi- 
 nence in his profession, made a handsome 
 fortune, came home and purchased an estate 
 in the neighbourhood where he was born. 
 
 There is no man among those who in that 
 generation figured in public life, of whom a 
 story like this could be so readily believed 
 as of Windham. He was one whose endow- 
 ments and accomplishments would have re- 
 commended him at the Court of Elizabeth, 
 and whose speeches, when he did not 
 abase himself to the level of his hearers, 
 might have commanded attention in the days 
 of Charles I. 
 
 A FRAGMENT ON BEARDS. 
 
 Yet have I more to say which I have thought upon, for 
 I am filled as the moon at the full ! ECCLESIASTICUS. 
 
 THE reader must not expect that we have 
 done with our beards yet ; shaving, as he no 
 doubt knows but too well, is one of those 
 things at which we may cut and come again, 
 and in the present Chapter
 
 672 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 To shave, or not to shave, that is the question ; 
 a matter which hath not hitherto been fully 
 considered. The question as relates to the 
 expenditure of time, has been, profitably I 
 trust, disposed of; and that of its effect 
 upon health has been, as Members of Par- 
 liament say, poo-pooh'd. But the propriety 
 of the practice is yet to be investigated upon 
 other grounds. 
 
 Van Helmont tells us that Adam was 
 created without a beard, but that after he 
 had fallen and sinned, because of the sinful 
 propensities which he derived from the fruit 
 of the forbidden Tree, a beard was made 
 part of his punishment and disgrace, bring- 
 ing him thus into nearer resemblance with 
 the beasts towards whom he had made his 
 nature approximate ; Ut rmdtorum quadru- 
 pedum compar, socius et similis esset, eorun- 
 dem signaturam prce se ferret, quorum more 
 ut salax, ita et vultum pilis hirtum ostenderet. 
 The same stigma was not inflicted upon 
 Eve, because even in the fall she retained 
 much of her original modesty, and therefore 
 deserved no such opprobrious mark. 
 
 Van Helmont observes also that no good 
 Angel ever appears with a beard, and this, 
 he says, is a capital sign by which Angels 
 may be distinguished, a matter of great 
 importance to those who are in the habit of 
 seeing them. Si apparuerit barbatus An- 
 gelus, mains esto. Eudcemon enim nunquam 
 barbatus apparuit, mentor casus ob qucm viro 
 barba succrevit. He marvelled therefore 
 that men should suppose the beard was 
 given them for an ornament, when Angels 
 abhor it, and when they see that they have 
 it in common with he-goats. There must 
 be something in his remark ; for take the 
 most beautiful Angel that ever Painter de- 
 signed, or Engraver copied, put him on a 
 beard, and the celestial character will be so 
 entirely destroyed, that the simple appen- 
 dage of a tail will cacodemonise the Eu- 
 daemon. 
 
 This being the belief of Van Helmont, 
 who declares that he had profited more by 
 reveries and visions than by study, though 
 he had studied much and deeply, ought 
 he, in conformity to his own belief, to 
 
 have shaved, or not ? Much might be al- 
 leged on either side : for to wear the beard 
 might seem in a person so persuaded, a 
 visible sign of submission to the Almighty 
 will, in thus openly bearing the badge of 
 punishment, the mark of human degradation 
 which the Almighty has been pleased to 
 appoint : but, on the other hand, a shaven 
 face might seem with equal propriety, and 
 in like manner denote, a determination in 
 the man to put off, as far as in him lay, this 
 outward and visible sign of sin and shame, 
 and thereby assert that fallen nature was in 
 him regenerate, 
 
 Belle ext vraiment Vopinion premiere; 
 
 Belle est encores Vopinfm derniire; 
 
 A qui ties deux est-ce ctoncq' queje stifs t * 
 
 Which of the two opinions I might in- 
 cline to is of no consequence, because I do 
 not agree with Van Helmont concerning the 
 origin of the beard ; though as to what he 
 affirms concerning good Angels upon his 
 own alleged knowledge, I cannot contradict 
 him upon mine, and have moreover freely 
 confessed that when we examine our notions 
 of Angels they are found to support him. 
 But he himself seems to have thought both 
 opinions probable, and therefore, according 
 to the casuists, safe ; so, conforming to the 
 fashion of his times, without offence to his 
 own conscience, he neither did the one 
 thing, nor the other ; or perhaps it may be 
 speaking more accurately to say that he did 
 both ; for he shaved his beard, and let his 
 mustachios grow. 
 
 Upon this subject, P. Gentien Hervet, 
 Regent of the College at Orleans, printed 
 three discourses in the year 1536. In the 
 first of these, De radenda barba, he makes it 
 appear that we are bound to shave the 
 beard. In the second, De aleruda barba, he 
 proves we ought to let the beard grow. 
 And in the third, De vel radenda vel alenda 
 barba, he considers that it is lawful either 
 to shave or cultivate the beard at pleasure. 
 Si bien, says the Doctor in Theology, 31. 
 Jean Baptiste Thiers, in his grave and eru- 
 dite Histoire des Perruques, published aux 
 depens de TAutheur, at Paris in 1690, Si 
 
 * PASQUIER.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 G73 
 
 bien, que dans la pensee de ce sqacant Theolo- 
 gien, le question des barbes, courtcs ou longucs, 
 est une question tout-a-fait problematique, et 
 oil par consequent on pent prendre tel party 
 que Ton veut, pour ou contre. 
 
 [The following Extracts were to have been 
 worked up in this Chapter.] 
 
 D'Israeli quotes an author who, in his Elements of 
 Education. 1640, says, " I have a favourable opinion of 
 that young gentleman who is curious in fine mustachios. 
 The time he employs in adjusting, dressing and curling 
 them, is no lost time : for the more he contemplates his 
 mustachios, the more his mind will cherish, and be ani- 
 mated by, masculine and courageous notions." 
 
 There are men whose beards deserve not so honourable 
 a grave as to stuff a botcher's cushion, or to be entombed 
 in an ass's packsaddle. SHAKSPEABE. 
 
 " Human felicity," says Dr. Franklin, "is produced 
 not so much by great pieces of good fortune that seldom 
 happen, as by little advantages that occur every day. 
 Thus if you teach a poor young man to shave himself and 
 keep his razor in order, you may contribute Ynore to the 
 happiness of his life than in giving him a thousand 
 guineas. This sum may be soon spent, the regret only 
 remaining of having foolishly consumed it : but in the 
 other case he escapes the frequent vexation of waiting 
 for barbers, and of their sometimes dirty fingers, offensive 
 breaths and dull razors ; he shaves when most convenient 
 to him, and enjoys daily the pleasure of its being done 
 with a good instrument." 
 
 By Jupiter, 
 
 Were I the wearer of Antonius' beard 
 I would not shave 't to day. SHAKSPEARB. 
 
 D'Israeli says that a clergyman who had the longest 
 and largest beard of any Englishman in Elizabeth's reign, 
 gave as a reason for wearing it the motive it afforded 
 " that no act of his life might be unworthy the gravity of 
 his appearance." 
 
 FRAGMENT ON MORTALITY. 
 
 WHEN Fuller in his Pisgah Sight of Pales- 
 tine, comes to the city of Aigalon, where 
 Elon, Judge of Israel, was buried, " of whom 
 nothing else is recorded save his name, time 
 of his rule (ten years), and place of his in- 
 terment ; slight him not," he says, "because 
 so little is reported of him, it tending much 
 to the praise of his policy in preventing 
 foreign invasions, and domestic commotions, 
 so that the land enjoyed peace, as far better 
 than victory, as health is to be preferred 
 before a recovery from sickness. Yea, times 
 of much doing are times of much suffering, 
 and many martial achievements are rather 
 for the Prince's honour, than the people's 
 ease." 
 
 "To what purpose," says Norris, "should 
 a man trouble both the world's and his own 
 rest, to make himself great ? For besides 
 the emptiness of the thing, the Play will 
 quickly be done, and the Actors must all 
 retire into a state of equality, and then it 
 matters not who personated the Emperor, 
 or who the Slave." 
 
 The Doctor's feelings were in unison with 
 both these passages ; with the former con- 
 cerning the quiet age in which it was his 
 fortune to flourish, and with the latter in 
 that it was his fortune to flourish in the 
 shade. " It is with times," says Lord Ba- 
 con, "as it is with ways; some are more up 
 hill and down hill, and some are more flat 
 and plain ; and the one is better for the 
 liver, and the other for the writer." 
 
 He assented also to the Christian-Platonist 
 of Bemerton when he asked, " to what pur- 
 pose should a man be very earnest in the 
 pursuit of Fame ? He must shortly die, 
 and so must those too who admire him." 
 But nothing could be more opposed to his 
 way of thinking than what follows in that 
 philosopher, " Nay, I could almost say, to 
 what purpose should a man lay himself out 
 upon study and drudge so laboriously in the 
 mines of learning ? He is no sooner a little 
 wiser than his brethren, but Death thinks 
 him ripe for his sickle ; and for aught we 
 know, after all his pains and industry, in 
 the next world, an ideot, or a mechanic will 
 be as forward as he." In the same spirit 
 Horace Walpole said in his old age, " What 
 is knowledge to me, who stand on the verge, 
 and must leave my old stores as well as 
 what I may add to them, and how little 
 could that be ! " 
 
 When Johnson was told that Percy was 
 uneasy at the thought of leaving his house, 
 his study, his books when he should die, 
 he replied " a man need not be uneasy on 
 these grounds, for as he will retain his con- 
 sciousness, he may say with the Philosopher, 
 omnia mea mecum portO." 
 
 " Let attention," says the thoughtful John 
 Miller in his Bampton Lectures, which de- 
 serve to be side by side with those of the 
 lamented Van Mildert, " let attention be re- 
 
 xx
 
 674 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 quested to what seems here an accessory 
 sign of the adaptation of all our heavenly 
 Father's dealings to that which he ' knows 
 to he in man' I mean his merciful shorten- 
 ing of the term of this present natural life, 
 subsequently to the period when all-seeing 
 justice had been compelled to destroy the 
 old world for its disobedience. 
 
 " I call it merciful, because, though we can 
 conceive no length of day which could enable 
 man with his present faculties to exhaust all 
 that is made subject to his intellect, yet ob- 
 serving the scarcely credible rapidity of some 
 minds and the no less wonderful retention of 
 others, we may well conceive a far severer, 
 nay too severe a test of resignation and 
 patience to arise from length of years. To 
 learn is pleasant ; but to be ' ever learning, 
 and never able to come to sure knowledge 
 of the truth,' (if it were only in matters of 
 lawful, and curious, and ardent speculation,) 
 is a condition which we may well imagine to 
 grow wearisome by too great length of time. 
 ' Hope delayed' might well ' make the heart 
 sick' in many such cases. We may find an 
 infidel amusing himself on the brink of the 
 grave with many imaginary wishes for a 
 little longer respite, that he might witness 
 the result of this or that speculation ; but I 
 am persuaded that the heart which really 
 loves knowledge most truly and most wisely 
 will be affected very differently. From every 
 fresh addition to its store, (as far as concerns 
 itself,) it will only derive increase to that 
 desire wherewith it longs to become disen- 
 tangled altogether from a state of imperfec- 
 tion, and to be present in the fulness of that 
 light, wherein ' everything that is in part 
 shall be done away.' Here, then, in one of 
 the most interesting and most important of 
 all points, (the shortening of human life,) we 
 find a representation in Scripture which may 
 be accounted favourable to its credibility 
 and divine authority on the safest grounds 
 of reason and experience. For certainly, as 
 to the bare matter of fact, such representa- 
 tion corresponds in the strictest manner, (as 
 far as we have known and have seen,) with 
 the state of life as at present existing ; and 
 accepting it as true, we can perceive at once 
 
 a satisfactory explanation of it by referring 
 it, as a provision for man's well being, to the 
 wisdom and mercy of an Omnipotent Spirit 
 who knew, and knows ' what is in man.' " 
 
 FRAGMENT OF SIXTH VOLUME. 
 
 EEADER, we are about to enter upon the 
 sixth volume of this our Opus ; and as it is 
 written in the forms of Herkeru, Verily the 
 eye of Hope is upon the high road of Ex- 
 pectation. 
 
 Well begun, says the Proverb, is half 
 done. Horace has been made to say the 
 same thing by the insertion of an apt word 
 which pentametrises the verse, 
 
 Dimidium facti qui bene aepit habet. 
 
 D. Jusm de Villagutierre Soto-Mayor in 
 setting forth the merits of Columbus for 
 having discovered the New World, and 
 thereby opened the way for its conquest by 
 the Spaniards, observes that el principio en 
 todas las operaciones humanas cs el mas 
 dificultoso estado ; y assi una vfz vencido, sc 
 reputa y debe reputarse por la mitad del/a 
 obra, b por la principal de ella ; y el pro- 
 seguir despues en lo comenzado no contieiie 
 tanta dijicultad. 
 
 When Gabriel Chappuis dedicated the 
 eighteenth book of Amadis, by him trans- 
 lated from the Spanish, to the Noble and 
 Virtuous Lord Jan Anthoine Gros, Sieur 
 de S. Jouere, &c., he says, after a preamble 
 of eulogies upon the Dedicates and the 
 Book, Vows recevrez done, sil vous plaint 
 ce petit litre (Taiuty ban ceil que ont fait ceux 
 ausqvels fay dedie les trois livres precedent, 
 m'asseurant que *'z7 vous plaist en avoir la 
 lecture, vous y trouvercz grande delectation, 
 comme a la verite Thistoire qui y est dcscrite, 
 et mesmes en tous les precedent et en ceux qui 
 viendront apres, a este inventee pour delectrr , 
 mais avec tant de beaux traits, et une infinite 
 de divers accidens et occurrences quil eat 
 impossible quavec le plaisir et le delectation, 
 Ton rfen tire un grand proffet, comme vous 
 experementerez, moyennant la grace de Dieu.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 675 
 
 J"ay fait le precedent Chapitrc tin pen court ; pent- 
 etre que celui-ci sera plus long ; je n'cn suis pourtant 
 pas bicn assure, nous I'allons voir. Sc AKRON. 
 
 DEBORAH'S strong affection for her father 
 was not weakened by marriage ; nor his for 
 her by the consequent separation. Caroline 
 Bowles says truly, and feelingly, and beauti- 
 fully, 
 
 It is not love that steals the heart from love ; 
 'Tis the hard world and its perplexing cares, 
 Its petrifying selfishness, its pride, 
 Its low ambition, and its paltry aims. 
 
 There was none of that " petrifying selfish- 
 ness" in the little circle which lost so much 
 when Deborah was removed from her father's 
 parsonage. In order that that loss might be 
 less painfully felt, it was proposed by Mr. 
 Allison that Sunday should always be kept 
 at the Grange when the season or the weather 
 permitted. The Doctor came if he could; but 
 for Mrs. Dove it was always to be a holiday. 
 
 " The pleasures of a volatile head," says 
 Mrs. Carter, " are much less liable to dis- 
 appointment, than those of a sensible heart." 
 For such as can be contented with rattles 
 and raree-shows, there are rattles and raree- 
 shows in abundance to content them ; and 
 when one is broken it is mighty easily re- 
 placed by another. But the pleasures aris- 
 ing from the endearments of social relations, 
 and the delicate sensibilities of friendly 
 affection, are more limited, and their objects 
 incontrovertible ; they are accompanied with 
 perpetual tender solicitude, and subject to 
 accidents not to be repaired beneath the 
 Sun. It is no wonder, however, that the 
 joys of folly should have their completion in 
 a world with which they are to end, while 
 those of higher order must necessarily be 
 incompleat in a world where they are only 
 to begin.* 
 
 * From the writing of the latter paragraph I should 
 judge this to be one of the latest sentences Southey ever 
 
 wrote In the MS. it was to have followed c. cxxxiv. 
 
 vol. iv. p. SCI . P. 337. of this Edition. 
 
 FRAGMENT WHTCH WAS TO HAVE ANSWERED 
 THE QUESTION PROPOSED IN THE TWO 
 HUNDRED AND FORTY-SECOND CHAPTER. 
 
 lo udii gia dire ad un valente uomo nostro vicino, gli 
 uomini abbiano molte volte bisogno si di lagrimare, come 
 di ridere ; e per tal cagione egli affermava essere stale da 
 principio trovate le dolorose favole, che si chiamarono 
 Tragedie, accioche raccontate ne' teatri, come in qual 
 tempo si costumava difare, tirassero le lagrime agli occhi 
 di coloro, che avevano di do mestiere ; e cost eglino pian- 
 gendo della loro injirmita guarisscro. Ma come cib sia 
 a noi non ista bene di contristare gli animi delie persone 
 con cut favelliamo ; massimamente cola dove si dimori 
 per averfesla e soltazzo, e non per piagnere ; che se pure 
 alcuno i, che infermi per vaghezza di lagrimare, assai 
 leggier cosafla di medicarlo con la mostarda forte, o porlo 
 in alcun luogo alfumo. 
 
 GALATEO, DEL M. GIOVANNI DELLA CA.SA. 
 
 THE Reader may remember, when he is 
 thus reminded of it, that I delayed giving an 
 account of Pompey, in answer to the ques- 
 tion who he was, till the Dog-days should 
 come. Here we are, (if here may be applied 
 to time,) in the midst of them, July 24, 
 1830. 
 
 Horace Walpole speaks in a letter of two 
 or three Mastiff-days, so much fiercer were 
 they that season than our common Dog- 
 days. This year they might with equal pro- 
 priety be called Iceland-Dog-days. Here 
 we are with the thermometer every night 
 and morning below the temperate point, and 
 scarcely rising two degrees above it at 
 middle day. And then for weather, as 
 Voiture says, II plevt pla- ple-pli-plo-plus. 
 
 If, then, as Robert Wilmot hath written, 
 " it be true that the motions of our minds 
 follow the temperature of the air wherein 
 we live, then I think the perusing of some 
 mournful matter, tending to the view of a 
 notable example, will refresh your wits in a 
 gloomy day, and ease your weariness of the 
 louring night : " and the tragical part of my 
 story might as fitly be told now in that re- 
 spect, as if " weary winter were come upon 
 us, which bringeth with him drooping days 
 and weary nights." But who does not like 
 to put away tragical thoughts ? Who would 
 not rather go to see a broad farce than a 
 deep tragedy ? Sad thoughts, even when 
 they are medicinal for the mind, are as little 
 to the mind's liking, as physic is grateful to 
 the palate when it is needed most.
 
 676 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 FRAGMENT ON HUTCH1NSON 8 WORKS. * 
 
 THESE superstitions are unquestionably of 
 earlier date than any existing records, and 
 commenced with the oldest system of idola- 
 try, the worship of the heavenly bodies. 
 Hutchinson's view is that when Moses 
 brought the Jews out of their captivity, all 
 men believed that " Fire, Light, or the 
 Operation of the Air, did everything in this 
 material system:" those who believed rightly 
 in God, knew that these secondary causes 
 acted as his instruments, but "those who 
 had fallen and lost communication with the 
 Prophets and the truth of tradition, and were 
 left to reason, (though they reasoned as far 
 as reason could reach,) thought the Heavens 
 of a divine nature, and that they not only 
 moved themselves and the heavenly bodies 
 but operated all things on earth ; and in- 
 fluenced the bodies, and governed the minds 
 and fortunes of men : and so they fell upon 
 worshipping them, and consulting them for 
 times and seasons." " The Devil," he says, 
 " chose right ; this was the only object of 
 false worship which gave any temptation ; 
 and it had very specious inducements." 
 And it was because he thus prevailed over 
 " the Children of disobedience," that the 
 Apostle stiles him " the Prince of the Powers 
 of the Air." "This made the Priests and 
 Physicians of the antient heathen cultivate 
 the knowledge of these Powers, and after- 
 wards made them star-gazers and observe 
 the motions of those bodies for their con- 
 junctions and oppositions, and all the stuff of 
 their lucky and unlucky days and times, and 
 especially to make advantage of their 
 eclipses, for which they were stiled Magi, 
 and looked upon as acquaintance of their 
 Gods ; and so much of the latter as is of any 
 use, and a great deal more, we are obliged 
 to them for." " But these," he says, " who 
 thought that the Heavens ordered the events 
 of things by their motions and influences, 
 and that they were to be observed and fore- 
 seen by men, robbed God of his chief attri- 
 
 * A Chapter was to have been devoted to the Hut- 
 chinsonian philosophy, and I am inclined to believe that 
 this was a part of it. 
 
 butes, and were ordered then, and ought 
 still, to be punished with death." 
 
 Hutchinson is one of the most repulsive 
 writers that ever produced any effect upon 
 his contemporaries. His language is such 
 as almost justified Dr. Parr in calling it the 
 Hutchinsonian jargon ; and his system is so 
 confusedly brought forward that one who 
 wishes to obtain even a general knowledge 
 of it, must collect it as he can from passages 
 scattered through the whole of his treatises. 
 Add to these disrecommendations that it is 
 propounded in the coarsest terms of insolent 
 assumption, and that he treats the offence of 
 those who reject the authority of scripture, 
 that is of his interpretation of Hebrew, and 
 his exposition of the Mosaic philosophy, as 
 " an infectious scurvy or leprosy of the soul 
 which can scarcely be cured by anything 
 but eternal brimstone." 
 
 The Paradise Lost, he calls, " that cursed 
 farce of Milton, where he makes the Devil 
 his hero :" and of the ancient poets and his- 
 torians he says that " the mischief which 
 these vermin did by praising their heroes in 
 their farces or princes for conquering coun- 
 tries, and thereby inciting other princes to 
 imitate them, were the causes of the greatest 
 miseries that have befallen mankind." But 
 Sir Isaac Newton was the great object of 
 his hatred. " Nothing but villainy," he said, 
 " was to be expected from men who had 
 made a human scheme, and would construe 
 every text concerning it, so as to serve their 
 purpose ; he could only treat them as the 
 most treacherous men alive. I hope," he 
 says, " I have power to forgive any crimes 
 which are committed only against mvself ; I 
 am not required, nor have I any power to 
 forgive treason against the king, much less 
 to forgive any crimes whereby any attempt 
 to dispossess Jehovah Aleim. Nay, if I 
 know of them and do not reveal them, and 
 do not my endeavour to disappoint them in 
 either, I am accessary. I shall put these 
 things where I can upon the most compas- 
 sionate side ; the most favourable wish I can 
 make for them is, that they may prove their 
 ignorance so fully, that it may abate their 
 crimes ; but if their followers will shew that
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 677 
 
 he or his accomplices knew anything, I must 
 be forced to make Devils of them. There 
 are many other accidents besides design or 
 malice, which make men atheists, studying 
 or arguing to maintain a system, forged by 
 a man who does not understand it, and in 
 which there must be some things false, makes 
 a man a villain whether he will or no. 
 
 "He (Xewton) first framed a philosophy, 
 which is two thirds of the business of the 
 real scriptures, and struck off the rest. And 
 when he found his philosophy was built upon, 
 and to be supported by emptiness, he was 
 forced to patch up a God to constitute space. 
 His equipage appears to have been the trans- 
 lation of the apostate Jews, and some blind 
 histories of the modern heathen Deus, and an 
 empty head to make hisDeus; Kepler's banter 
 of his powers, and some tacit acknowledge- 
 ments, as he only supposed, of the ignorantest 
 heathens ; an air-pump to make, and a pen- 
 dulum or swing to prove a vacuum ; a load- 
 stone, and a bit of amber, or jet, to prove his 
 philosophy ; a telescope, a quadrant, and a 
 pair of compasses to make infinite worlds, 
 circles, crooked lines, &c. ; a glass bubble, 
 prisms and lenses, and a board with a hole 
 in it, to let light into a dark room to form 
 his history of light and colours ; and he 
 seems to have spent his time, not only when 
 young, as some boys do, but -when he should 
 have set things right, in blowing his phlegm 
 through a straw, raising bubbles, and admir- 
 ing how the light would glare on the sides of 
 them." 
 
 No mention of Hutchinson is made in Dr. 
 Brewster's Life of Newton : his system was 
 probably thought too visionary to deserve 
 notice, and the author unworthy of it be- 
 cause he had been the most violent and foul- 
 mouthed of all Sir Isaac's opponents. The 
 Mathematical Principles of Natural Philo- 
 sophy, he called a cobweb of circles and 
 lines to catch flies. " Mathematics," he 
 said, " are applicable to any data, real or 
 imaginary, true or false, more pestilent and 
 destructive positions had been fathered upon 
 that science than upon all others put to- 
 gether, and mathematicians had been put to 
 death, both by Heathens and Christians, for 
 
 attributing much less to the heavenly bodies 
 than Newton had done." He compared his 
 own course of observations with Newton's. 
 His had been in the dark bowels of the 
 earth, with the inspired light of scripture in 
 his hand, there he had learned his Hebrew, 
 and there he had studied the causes and 
 traced the effects of the Deluge. " The op- 
 portunities," he said, " were infinitely beyond 
 what any man can have by living in a box, 
 peeping out at a window, or letting the light 
 in at a hole: or in separating and extracting 
 the spirit from light, which can scarce hap- 
 pen in nature, or from refracting the light, 
 which only happens upon the rainbow, bub- 
 bles, &c., or by making experiments with 
 the loadstone, talc or amber, which differ in 
 texture from most other bodies, and are only 
 found in masses of small size; or by ar- 
 ranging a pendulum, which perhaps has not 
 a parallel case in nature : or by the effects 
 produced by spirit or light upon mixing 
 small parcels of extracted fluids or sub- 
 stances, scarce one of which ever happened, 
 or will happen in nature : or by taking cases 
 which others have put, or putting cases 
 which never had, nor ever will have any 
 place in nature : or by forming figures or 
 lines of crooked directions of motions or 
 things, which most of them have no place, 
 so the lines no use in nature, other than to 
 serve hypotheses of imaginary Powers, or 
 courses, which always have been useless, 
 when any other Powers, though false, have 
 been assigned and received ; and must all 
 finally be useless, when the true Powers are 
 shewn." 
 
 Such passages show that Hutchinson was 
 either grossly incapable of appreciating 
 Newton's discoveries, or that he wilfully 
 and maliciously depreciated them. His own 
 attainments might render the first of these 
 conclusions improbable, and the second 
 would seem still more so upon considering 
 the upright tenour of his life. But the truth 
 seems to be, that having constructed a sys- 
 tem with great labour, and no little ability, 
 upon the assumption that the principles of 
 natural philosophy as well as of our faith 
 are contained in the scriptures, and that the
 
 678 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 true interpretation of scripture depended 
 upon the right understanding of the Hebrew 
 primitives, which knowledge the apostate 
 Jews had lost, and he had recovered, his 
 belief in this system had all the intolerance 
 of fanaticism or supposed infallibility ; and 
 those who strongly contravened it, deserved 
 in his opinion the punishments appointed in 
 the Mosaic law for idolatry and blasphemy. 
 Newton and Clarke were in this predica- 
 ment. Both, in his judgement, attributed so 
 much to secondary causes, those Powers 
 which had been the first objects of idolatry, 
 that he considered their Deity to be nothing 
 more than the Jupiter of the philosophising 
 heathens ; and he suspects that their esoteric 
 doctrine resolved itself into Pantheism. To- 
 land indeed had told him that there was a 
 scheme in progress for leading men through 
 Pantheism and Atheism, and made him 
 acquainted with all their designs, divine or 
 diabolical, and political or anarchical ! and 
 all the villanies and forgeries they had 
 committed to accomplish them. First they 
 sought to make men believe in a God who 
 could not punish, and then that there was 
 no God, and Toland was engaged, for pay, 
 in this scheme of propagandism, "because 
 he had some learning, and more loose 
 humour than any of them." The Pantheis- 
 ticon was written with this view. Toland 
 was only in part the author, other hands 
 assisted, and Hutchinson says, he knew 
 " there was a physician, and a patient of his 
 a divine, who was very serviceable in their 
 respective stations in prescribing proper 
 doses, even to the very last." But they 
 " carried the matter too far," " they dis- 
 covered a secret which the world had not 
 taken notice of, and which it was highly 
 necessary the world should know." For 
 " though it be true to a proverb, that a man 
 should not be hanged for being a fool, they 
 shewed the principles of these men so 
 plainly, which were to have no superior, 
 to conform to any religion, laws, oaths, &c., 
 but be bound by none, and the consequences 
 of propagating them, that they thereby 
 shewed the wisdom of the heathen people, 
 who, because they could not live safely, 
 
 stoned such men ; nnd the justice of the 
 heathen Emperors and Kings, who put such 
 to death, because they could have no secu- 
 rity from them, and if their doubts, or 
 notions had prevailed, all must have gone to 
 anarchy or a commonwealth, as it always 
 did, when and where they neglected to cut 
 them off." 
 
 That atheism had its propagandists then 
 as it has now is certain, and no one who has 
 watched the course of opinion among his 
 contemporaries can doubt that Socinianisin, 
 or semi-belief, gravitates towards infidelity. 
 But to believe that Newton and Clarke 
 were engaged in the scheme which is here 
 imputed to them, we must allow more 
 weight to Toland's character than to their's, 
 and to Hutchinson's judgement. 
 
 What has here been said of Hutchinson 
 exhibits him in his worst light, and it 
 must not hastily be concluded that because 
 he breathed the fiercest spirit of intolerance, 
 he is altogether to be disliked as a man, or 
 despised as an author. Unless his theory, 
 untenable as it is, had been constructed 
 with considerable talent, and supported with 
 no common learning, he could never have 
 had such men as Bishop Home and Jones 
 of Nayland among his disciples. Without 
 assenting to his system, a biblical student 
 may derive instruction from many parts of 
 his works. 
 
 There is one remarkable circumstance in 
 his history. When he was a mere boy a 
 stranger came to board with his father, who 
 resided at Spennythorn in the North-Hiding 
 of Yorkshire, upon an estate of forty pounds 
 a-year. The father's intention was to edu- 
 cate this son for the office of steward to 
 some great landed proprietor, and this 
 stranger agreed to instruct him in every 
 branch of knowledge requisite for such 
 an employment, upon condition of being 
 boarded free of expence, engaging at the 
 same time to remain till he had compleated 
 the boy's education. What he had thus 
 undertaken he performed well ; " he was, 
 perhaps," says Hutchinson, " as great a 
 mathematician as either of those whose 
 books he studied, and taught me as much as
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 679 
 
 I could see any use for, either upon the 
 earth or in the heavens, without poisoning 
 me with any false notions fathered upon the 
 mathematics." The curious part of this 
 story is that it was never known who this 
 scientific stranger was, for he carefully and 
 effectually concealed everything that could 
 lead to a discovery. Hutchinson was born 
 in 1674, and his education under this tutor 
 was compleated at the age of nineteen. 
 
 FRAGMENT RELATIVE TO THE GRAMMAR 
 SCHOOL AT DONCASTER AND THE LIVING 
 OF ROSSINGTON.* 
 
 THE Grammar School was next door to 
 Peter Hopkins's, being kept in one of the 
 
 * The Parish of Rossington in the union and soke of 
 Doncaster was for many generations the seat of the 
 Fossard and Mauley families. In the reign of Henry 
 VII., it was granted by that monarch to the corporation 
 of Doncaster. 
 
 The following extract is from Mr. John Wainwright's 
 History and Antiquities of Doncaster and Conisbro'. 
 
 " Connected with the history of this village, is a singu- 
 lar and curious specimen of Egyptian manners, as prac- 
 tised by the itinerant gypsies of the British Empire. In 
 a letter, which we had the pleasure of receiving from the 
 Kev. James Sloven, D.D., the worthy and learned rector 
 of this place, it is remarked, that about one hundred and 
 twenty years ago, the gypsies commenced here a curious 
 custom, which they practised once in almost every year, 
 occasioned by the interment, in the churchyard of this 
 place, (of) one -of their principal leaders, Mr. Charles 
 Bosville, on the 30th of June, 1708 or 9. Having, from a 
 boy, been much acquainted with this village, I have often 
 heard of their (the gypsies) abode here, and with them 
 Mr. James Bosville, their king, under whose authority 
 they conducted themselves with great propriety and de- 
 corum, never committing the least theft or offence. They 
 generally slept in their farmers* barns, who, at those 
 periods, considered their property to be more safely pro- 
 tected than in their absence. Mr. Charles Bosville (but 
 how related to the king does not appear,) was much be- 
 loved in this neighbourhood, having a knowledge of 
 medicine, was very attentive to the sick, well bred in 
 manners, and comely in person. After his death, the 
 gypsies, for many years, came to visit his tomb, and poured 
 upon it hot ale ; but by degrees they deserted the place. 
 (These circumstances must yet hang on their remem- 
 brance ; as, only a year ago, 1821, an ill-dret set of them 
 encamped in our lanes, calling themselves Boswell's.) 
 These words in the parentheses came within my own 
 knowledge." 
 
 It is added in a note " BoswelCs Gang, is an appella- 
 tion, very generally applied to a collection of beggars, or 
 other idle itinerants, which we often see encamped in 
 groups in the lanes and ditches of this part of England." 
 
 In quoting this, I by no means assent to the statement 
 that Gypsies are Egyptians They are of Hindostanee 
 origin. 
 
 lower apartments of the Town Hall. It was 
 a free school for the sons of freemen, the 
 Corporation allowing a salary of 50 per 
 annum to the schoolmaster, who according 
 to the endowment must be a clergyman. 
 That office was held by Mr. Crochley, who 
 had been bred at Westminster, and was 
 elected from thence to Christ Church, Ox- 
 ford, in 1742. He came to Doncaster with 
 a promise from the Corporation that the 
 living of Rossington, which is in their gift 
 and is a valuable benefice, should be given 
 him provided he had fifty scholars when it 
 became vacant. He never could raise their 
 numbers higher than forty-five; the Cor- 
 poration adhered to the letter of their agree- 
 ment; the disappointment preyed on him, 
 and he died a distressed and broken-hearted 
 man. 
 
 Yet it was not Crochley's fault that the 
 school had not been more flourishing. He 
 was as competent to the office as a man of 
 good natural parts could be rendered by the 
 most compleat course of classical education. 
 But in those days few tradesmen ever thought 
 of bestowing upon their sons any farther 
 education than was sufficient to qualify them 
 for trade ; and the boys who were desirous 
 to be placed there, must have been endued 
 with no ordinary love of learning, for a 
 grammar school is still anything rather than 
 a Ludus Literarius. 
 
 Two or three years before the Doctor's 
 marriage a widow lady came to settle at 
 Doncaster, chiefly for the sake of placing 
 her sons at the Grammar School there, which, 
 though not in high repute, was at least re- 
 spectably conducted. It was within five 
 minutes' walk of her own door, and thus the 
 boys had the greatest advantage that school- 
 boys can possibly enjoy, that of living at 
 home, whereby they were saved from all the 
 misery and from most of the evil with which 
 boarding-schools, almost without an excep- 
 tion, abounded in those days, and from 
 which it may be doubted whether there are 
 any yet that are altogether free. Her name 
 was Horseman, she was left with six children, 
 and just with such means as enabled her by 
 excellent management to make what is called
 
 680 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 a respectable appearance, the boys being well 
 educated at the cheapest rate, and she her- 
 self educating two daughters, who were for- 
 tunately the eldest children. Happy girls ! 
 they were taught what no Governess could 
 teach them, to be useful as soon as they were 
 capable of being so ; to make their brothers' 
 shirts and mend their stockings; to make 
 and mend for themselves ; to cipher so as to 
 keep accounts ; to assist in household occu- 
 pations, to pickle and preserve, to make 
 pastry, to work chair-bottoms, to write a fair 
 hand, and to read Italian. This may seem 
 incongruous with so practical a system of 
 domestic education. But Mrs. Horseman 
 was born in Italy, and had passed great part 
 of her youth there. 
 
 The father, Mr. Duckinton, was a man of 
 some fortune, whose delight was in travelling, 
 and who preferred Italy to all other coun- 
 tries. Being a whimsical person he had a 
 fancy for naming each of his children after 
 the place where it happened to be born. 
 One daughter therefore was baptized by the 
 fair name of Florence, Mrs. Horseman was 
 christened Venetia, like the wife of Sir 
 Kenelm Digby, whose husband was more 
 careful of her complexion than of her cha- 
 racter. Fortunate it was that he had no 
 daughter born at Genoa or at Nantes, for if 
 he had, the one must have concealed her 
 true baptismal name under the alias of 
 Jenny ; and the other have subscribed her- 
 self Nancy, that she might not be reproached 
 with the brandy cask. The youngest of his 
 children was a son, and if he had been born 
 in the French capital would hardly have 
 escaped the ignominious name of Paris, but 
 as Mr. Duckinton had long wished for a 
 son, and the mother knowing her husband's 
 wishes had prayed for one, the boy escaped 
 with no worse name than Deodatus. 
 
 FRAGMENT OF INTERCHAPTER. 
 
 KISSING has proverbially been said to go by 
 favour. So it is but too certain, that Pre- 
 ferment does in Army and Navy, Church 
 and State ; and so does Criticism. 
 
 That Kissing should do so is but fair and 
 just ; and it is moreover in the nature of 
 things. 
 
 That Promotion should do so is also in 
 the nature of things as they are. And 
 this also is fair where no injustice is com- 
 mitted. When other pretensions are equal, 
 favour is the feather which ought to be put 
 into the scale. In cases of equal fitness, no 
 wrong is done to the one party, if the other 
 is preferred for considerations of personal 
 friendship, old obligations, or family connec- 
 tion ; the injustice and the wrong would be 
 if these were overlooked. 
 
 To what extent may favour be reasonably 
 allowed in criticism ? 
 
 If it were extended no farther than can 
 be really useful to the person whom there is 
 an intention of serving, its limits would be 
 short indeed. For in that case it would 
 never proceed farther than truth and dis- 
 cretion went with it. Far more injury is 
 done to a book and to an author by inju- 
 dicious or extravagant praise, than by in- 
 temperate or malevolent censure. 
 
 Some persons have merrily surmised that 
 Job was a reviewer because he exclaimed, 
 " Oh that mine enemy had written a book ! " 
 Others on the contrary have inferred that 
 reviewing was not known in his days, be- 
 cause he wished that his own words had 
 been printed and published. 
 
 [The timbers were laid for a Chapter on 
 wigs, and many notes and references were 
 collected. This Fragment is all that 
 remains.] 
 
 BERNARDIN St. Pierre, who, with all his 
 fancies and oddities, has been not undeser- 
 vedly a popular writer in other countries as 
 well as in his own, advances in the most 
 extravagant of his books, (the Harmonies de 
 la Nature,} the magnificent hypothesis that 
 men invented great wigs because great wigs 
 are semblables aux criniers des lions, like 
 lion's manes. But as wigs are rather de- 
 signed to make men look grave than ter- 
 rible, he might with more probability have
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 681 
 
 surmised that they were intended to imi- 
 tate the appearance of the Bird of Wisdom. 
 
 The Doctor wore a wig : and looked nei- 
 ther like a Lion, nor like an Owl in it. 
 Yet when he first put it on, and went to the 
 looking-glass, he could not help thinking 
 that he did not look like a Dove. 
 
 But then he looked like a Doctor, which 
 was as it became him to look. He wore it 
 professionally. 
 
 It was not such a wig as Dr. Parr's, which 
 was of all contemporary wigs facile princeps. 
 Nor was it after the fashion of that which 
 may be seen in " immortal buckle," upon 
 Sir Cloudesley Shovel's monument in West- 
 minster Abbey &c. 
 
 MEMOIRS OF CATS EDEN. 
 
 [THE following Fragments were intended to 
 be worked up into an Interchapter on the 
 History of Cats. The first fairly written 
 out was to have been, it would appear, the 
 commencement. The next is an Extract 
 from Eulia Effendi. " That anecdote about 
 the King of the Cats, Caroline, you must 
 write out for me, as it must be inserted," 
 said the lamented Author of" THE DOCTOR, 
 &c." to Mrs. Southey. The writer of the 
 lines is not known, they were forwarded to 
 the Author when at Killerton. The " Me- 
 moirs of Cats of Greta Hall" was to have 
 furnished the particulars, which the first frag- 
 ment states had got abroad. 
 
 What was to have been the form of the 
 Interchapter the Editor does not know, nei- 
 ther does Mrs. Southey. The playful letter 
 is given exactly as it was written. A beau- 
 tiful instance, as will be acknowledged by 
 all, of that confidence which should exist 
 between a loving father and a dutiful daugh- 
 ter. Sir Walter Scott wrote feelingly when 
 he said, 
 
 Some feelings are to mortals given 
 
 With less of earth in them than heaven : 
 
 And if there be a human tear 
 
 From passion's dross refined and clear, 
 
 A tear so limpid and so meek, 
 
 It would not stain an angel's cheek, 
 
 'Tis that which pious fathers died 
 
 Upon a duteous daughter's head !] 
 
 FRAGMENT OF INTEBCHAPTEB. 
 
 More than prince of cats, I can tell you. 
 
 KOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 AN extract from the Register of Cat's Eden 
 has got abroad, whereby it appears that the 
 Laureate, Dr. Southey, who is known to be 
 a philofelist, and confers honours upon his 
 Cats according to their services, has raised 
 one to the highest rank in peerage, promot- 
 ing him through all its degrees by the follow- 
 ing titles, His Serene Highness the Arch- 
 duke Rumpelstilzchen, Marquis Macbum, 
 Earl Tomlemagne, Baron Raticide, Waowl- 
 her and Skaratchi. 
 
 The first of these names is taken from the 
 German Collection of Kinder und Haus- 
 Mdrchen. A Dwarf or Imp so called was 
 to carry off the infant child of the Queen 
 as the price of a great service which he had 
 rendered her, but he had consented to forego 
 his right if in the course of three days she 
 could find out what was his name. This 
 she never could have done, if the King had 
 not on the first day gone hunting, and 
 got into the thickest part of the wood, 
 where he saw a ridiculous Dwarf hopping 
 about before a house which seemed by its 
 dimensions to be his home, and singing for 
 joy ; these were the words of his song, 
 
 Heule back ich, morgen brau ich, 
 Uebermorgen hohl ich der Frau Koniginn: ihr Kind, 
 Ach wie gut ist, das niemand weiit t 
 Doss ich Rumpelstilzchen heiss ! 
 
 I bake to-day, and I brew to-morrow, 
 Mrs. Queen will see me the next day to her sorrow, 
 When according to promise her child I shall claim, 
 For none can disclose, because nobody knows 
 That Rumpelstilzchen is my name. 
 
 Now if Rumpelstilzchen had had as many 
 names as a Spanish Infante, the man must 
 have a good memory who could have carried 
 them away upon hearing them once. 
 
 " The Cats of Diorigi are celebrated all 
 over Greece, for nowhere are to be found 
 cats so pretty, so vigilant, so caressing and 
 well-bred as at Diorigi. The Cats of the 
 Oasis in Egypt, and of Sinope, are justly 
 renowned for their good qualities, but those 
 of Diorigi are particulai-ly fat, brilliant, and 
 playing different colours. They are carried 
 from here to Persia, to ArdebeU where they
 
 682 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 are shut up in cages, proclaimed by the 
 public criers and sold for one or two tomans. 
 The Georgians also buy them at a great 
 price, to save their whiskers which are com- 
 monly eaten up by mice. The criers of 
 Ardebeil, who cry these cats, have a parti- 
 cular melody to which they sing their cry in 
 these words, 
 
 O you who like a Cat 
 That catches mouse and rat, 
 Well-bred, caressing, gay 
 Companion to sport and play, 
 Amusing and genteel, 
 Shall never scratch and steal. 
 
 Singing these words they carry the cats on 
 their head and sell them for great prices, 
 because the inhabitants of Ardebeil are 
 scarce able to save their woollen cloth from 
 the destruction of mice and rats. Cats are 
 called Hurre, Katta, Senorre, Merabe, 
 Matshi, Weistaun, Wemistaun, but those of 
 Diorigi are particularly highly esteemed. 
 Notwithstanding that high reputation and 
 price of the Cats of Diorigi, they meet with 
 dangerous enemies in their native place, 
 where sometimes forty or fifty of them are 
 killed secretly, tanned, and converted into 
 fur for the winter time. It is a fur scarce 
 to be distinguished from Russian ermelin, and 
 that of the red cats is not to be distinguished 
 from the fox that comes from Ozalov." * 
 
 A labouring man returning to his cottage 
 after night-fall, passed by a lone house in 
 ruins, long uninhabited. Surprised at the 
 appearance of light within, and strange 
 sounds issuing from the desolate interior, he 
 stopped and looked in through one of the 
 broken windows, and there in a large old 
 gloomy room, quite bare of furniture except 
 that the cobwebs hung about its walls like 
 tapestry, he beheld a marvellous spectacle. 
 A small coffin covered with a pall stood in 
 the midst of the floor, and round and round 
 and round about it, with dismal lamentations 
 in the feline tongue, marched a circle of 
 Cats, one of them being covered from head 
 to foot with a black veil, and walking as 
 chief mourner. The man was so frightened 
 with what he saw that he waited to see no 
 
 * EVLIA EfFENDI. 
 
 more, but went straight home, and at supper 
 told his wife what had befallen him. 
 
 Their own old Cat, who had been sitting, 
 as was her wont, on the elbow of her Mas- 
 ter's chair, kept her station very quietly, till 
 he came to the description of the chief 
 Mourner, when, to the great surprise and 
 consternation of the old couple, she bounced 
 up, and flew up the chimney exclaiming 
 " Then I am King of the Cats." 
 
 Kesteick, January 9/A. 
 DEAR MASTER, 
 
 Let our boldness not offend, 
 If a few lines of duteous love we send ; 
 Nor wonder that we deal in rhyme, for long 
 We've been familiar with the founts of song ; 
 Nine thorougher tabbies you would rarely find, 
 Than those who laurels round your temples bind : 
 For how, with less than nine lives to their share, 
 Could they have lived so long on poet's fare ? 
 Athens surnamed them from their mousing powers, 
 And Rome from that harmonious MU of ours, 
 In which the letter U, (as we will trouble you 
 To say to TODD) should supersede ew 
 This by the way we now proceed to tell, 
 That all within the bounds of home are well ; 
 All but your faithful cats, who inly pine ; 
 The cause your Conscience may too well divine. 
 Ah ! little do you know how swiftly fly 
 The venomed darts of feline jealousy ; 
 How delicate a task to deal it is 
 With a Grimalkin's sensibilities, 
 When Tilten's tortoise fur you smoothed with bland 
 And coaxing courtesies of lip and hand, 
 We felt as if, (poor Puss's constant dread,) 
 Some school-boy stroked us both from tail to head ; 
 Nor less we suffer'd while with sportive touch 
 And purring voice, you played with grey -backed Gutch ; 
 And when with eager step, you left your seat, 
 To get a peep at Richard's snow-white feet, 
 Himself all black ; we long'd to stop his breath 
 With something like his royal namesake's death ; 
 If more such scenes our frenzied fancies see, 
 Resolved we hang from yonder apple tree 
 And were not that a sad catastrophe ! 
 O ! then return to your deserted lake, 
 Dry eyes that weep, and comfort hearts that ache ; 
 Our mutual jealousies we both disown, 
 Content to share, rather than lose a throne. 
 The Parlour, Rumple's undisputed reign, 
 Hurley's the rest of all your wide domain. 
 Return, return, dear Bard xacr' ifrxw, 
 Restore the happy days that once have been, 
 Resign yourself to Home, the Muse and us. 
 
 (ScTUlch'ct) RCMPLESTITCHKIN, 
 
 HURLYBURLYBIS3. 
 
 MEMOIR OF THE CATS OF GRETA HALL. 
 
 FOR as much, most excellent Edith May, as 
 you must always feel a natural and becom- 
 ing concern in whatever relates to the house 
 wherein you were born, and in which the 
 first part of your life has thus far so happily
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 683 
 
 been spent, I have, for your instruction and 
 delight, composed these Memoirs of the Cats 
 of Greta Hall : to the end that the memory 
 of such worthy animals may not perish, but 
 be held in deserved honour by my children, 
 and those who shall come after them. And 
 let me not be supposed unmindful of Beel- 
 zebub of Bath, and Senhor Thornaz de Lis- 
 boa, that I have not gone back to an earlier 
 period, and included them in my design. 
 Far be it from me to intend any injury or 
 disrespect to their shades ! Opportunity of 
 doing justice to their virtues will not be 
 wanting at some future time, but for the 
 present I must confine myself within the 
 limits of these precincts. 
 
 In the autumn of the year 1803, when I 
 entered upon this place of abode, I found 
 the hearth in possession of two cats, whom 
 my nephew Hartley Coleridge, (then in the 
 7th year of his age,) had named Lord Nelson 
 and Bona Marietta. The former, as the 
 name implies, was of the worthier gender : 
 it is as decidedly so in Cats, as in grammar 
 and in law. He was an ugly specimen of 
 the streaked-carrotty, or Judas-coloured 
 kind ; which is one of the ugliest varieties. 
 But nimium ne crede colori. In spite of his 
 complection, there was nothing treacherous 
 about him. He was altogether a good Cat, 
 affectionate, vigilant, and brave ; and for 
 services performed against the Rats was de- 
 servedly raised in succession to the rank of 
 Baron, Viscount, and Earl. He lived to a 
 good old age ; and then being quite helpless 
 and miserable, was in mercy thrown into the 
 river. I had more than once interfered to 
 save him from this fate ; but it became at 
 length plainly an act of compassion to con- 
 sent to it. And here let me observe that in 
 a world wherein death is necessary, the law 
 of nature by which one creature preys upon 
 another is a law of mercy, not only because 
 death is thus made instrumental to life, and 
 more life exists in consequence, but also be- 
 cause it is better for the creatures them- 
 selves to be cut off suddenly, than to perish 
 by disease or hunger, for these are the 
 only alternatives. 
 
 There are still some of Lord Nelson's 
 
 descendants in the town of Keswick. Two 
 of the family were handsomer than I should 
 have supposed any Cats of this complection 
 could have been ; but their fur was fine, the 
 colour a rich carrot, and the striping like 
 that of the finest tyger or tabby kind. I 
 named one of them William Rufus ; the 
 other Danayn le Roux, after a personage in 
 the Romance of Gyron le Courtoys. 
 
 Bona Marietta was the mother of Bona 
 Fidelia, so named by my nephew aforesaid. 
 Bona Fidelia was a tortoiseshell cat. She 
 was filiated upon Lord Nelson, others of the 
 same litter having borne the unequivocal 
 stamp of his likeness. It was in her good 
 qualities that she resembled him, for in 
 truth her name rightly bespoke her nature. 
 She approached as nearly as possible in dis- 
 position, to the ideal of a perfect cat : he 
 who supposes that animals have not their 
 difference of disposition as well as men, 
 knows very little of animal nature. Having 
 survived her daughter Madame Catalani, 
 she died of extreme old age, universally es- 
 teemed and regretted by all who had the 
 pleasure of her acquaintance. 
 
 Bona Fidelia left a daughter and a grand- 
 daughter ; the former I called Madame 
 Bianchi the latter Pulcheria. It was im- 
 possible ever to familiarise Madame Bianchi, 
 though she had been bred up in all respects 
 like her gentle mother, in the same place, 
 and with the same persons. The nonsense 
 of that arch-philosophist Helvetius would be 
 sufficiently confuted by this single example, 
 if such rank folly, contradicted as it is by 
 the experience of every family, needed con- 
 futation. She was a beautiful and singular 
 creature, white, with a fine tabby tail, and 
 two or three spots of tabby, always deli- 
 cately clean ; and her wild eyes were bright 
 and green as the Duchess de Cadaval's 
 emerald necklace. Pulcheria did not cor- 
 respond as she grew up to the promise of 
 her kittenhood and her name ; but she was 
 as fond as her mother was shy and intracta- 
 ble. Their fate was extraordinary as well 
 as mournful. When good old Mrs. Wilson 
 died, who used to feed and indulge them, 
 they immediately forsook the house, nor
 
 684 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 could they be allured to enter it again, 
 though they continued to wander and moan 
 around it, and came for food. After some 
 weeks Madame Bianchi disappeared, and 
 Pulcheria soon afterwards died of a disease 
 endemic at that time among cats. 
 
 For a considerable time afterwards, an 
 evil fortune attended all our attempts at re- 
 establishing a Cattery. Ovid disappeared 
 and Virgil died of some miserable distemper. 
 You and your cousin are answerable for 
 these names : the reasons which I could find 
 for them were, in the former case, the satis- 
 factory one that the said Ovid might be 
 presumed to be a master in the Art of Love ; 
 and in the latter, the probable one that 
 something like Ma-ro might be detected 
 in the said Virgil's notes of courtship. 
 There was poor Othello : most properly 
 named, for black he was, and jealous un- 
 doubtedly he would have been, but he in 
 his kittenship followed Miss Wilbraham into 
 the street, and there in all likelihood came 
 to an untimely end. There was the Zombi 
 (I leave the Commentators to explain 
 that title, and refer them to my History of 
 Brazil to do it,) his marvellous story was 
 recorded in a letter to Bedford, and after 
 that adventure he vanished. There was 
 Prester John, who turned out not to be of 
 John's gender, and therefore had the name 
 altered to Pope Joan. The Pope I am 
 afraid came to a death of which other Popes 
 have died. I suspect that some poison which 
 the rats had turned out of their holes 
 proved fatal to their enemy. For some 
 time I feared we were at the end of our 
 Cat-a-logue: but at last Fortune, as if to 
 make amends for her late severity, sent us 
 two at once, the-never-to-be-enough- 
 praised Rumpelstilzchen, and the equally-to- 
 be-admired Hurlyburlybuss. 
 
 And " first for the first of these " as my 
 huge favourite, and almost namesake Robert 
 South, says in his Sermons. 
 
 When the Midgeleys went away from the 
 next house, they left this creature to our 
 hospitality, cats being the least moveable of 
 all animals because of their strong local 
 predilections ; they are indeed in a do- 
 
 mesticated state the serfs of the animal 
 creation, and properly attached to the soil. 
 The change was gradually and therefore 
 easily brought about, for he was already 
 acquainted with the children and with me ; 
 and having the same precincts to prowl in 
 was hardly sensible of any other difference 
 in his condition than that of obtaining a 
 name ; for when he was consigned to us he 
 was an anonymous cat ; and I having just 
 related at breakfast, with universal applause, 
 the story of Rumpelstilzclien from a Ger- 
 man tale in Grimm's Collection, gave him 
 that strange and magnisonant appellation ; 
 to which, upon its being ascertained that he 
 came when a kitten from a bailiffs house, I 
 added the patronymic of Mac-bum. Such is 
 his history ; his character may with most 
 propriety be introduced after the manner of 
 Plutarch's parallels, when I shall have given 
 some previous account of his great compeer 
 and rival Hurlyburlybuss, that name also 
 is of Germanic and Grimmish extraction. 
 
 Whence Hurlyburlybuss came was a 
 mystery when you departed from the Land 
 of Lakes, and a mystery it long remained. 
 He appeared here, as Mango Capac did in 
 Peru, and Quetzalcohuatl among the Azte- 
 cas, no one knew from whence. He made 
 himself acquainted with all the philofelists 
 of the family attaching himself more par- 
 ticularly to Mrs. Lovell, but he never 
 attempted to enter the house, frequently dis- 
 appeared for days, and once, since my return, 
 for so long a time that he was actually be- 
 lieved to be dead, and veritably lamented as 
 such. The wonder was whither did he retire 
 at such times and to whom did he belong ; 
 for neither I in my daily walks, nor the chil- 
 dren, nor any of the servants, ever by any 
 chance saw him anywhere except in our 
 own domain. There was something so 
 mysterious in this, that in old times it might 
 have excited strong suspicion, and he would 
 have been in danger of passing for a Witch 
 in disguise, or a familiar. The mystery, 
 however, was solved about four weeks ago, 
 when, as we were returning from a walk up 
 the Greta, Isabel saw him on his transit 
 across the road and the wall from Shulicrow,
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 G85 
 
 in a direction toward the Hill. But to this 
 day we are ignorant who has the honour to 
 be his owner in the eye of the law ; and the 
 owner is equally ignorant of the high favour 
 in which Hurlyburlybuss is held, of the 
 heroic name which he has obtained, and that 
 his fame has extended far and wide even 
 unto Xorwich in the East, and Escott and 
 Crediton and Kellerton in the West, yea 
 that with Rumpelstilzchen he has been cele- 
 brated in song, by some hitherto undisco- 
 vered poet, and that his glory will go down 
 to future generations. 
 
 The strong enmity which unhappily sub- 
 sists between these otherwise gentle and 
 most amiable cats is not unknown to you. 
 Let it be imputed, as in justice it ought, 
 not to their individual characters, (for Cats 
 have characters, and for the benefit of 
 philosophy, as well as felisophy, this truth 
 ought generally to be known,) but to the con- 
 stitution of Cat nature, an original sin, or 
 an original necessity, which may be only an- 
 other mode of expressing the same thing : 
 
 Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere, 
 Nor can one purlieu brook a double reign 
 Of Hurlyburlybuss and Rumpelstilzchen. 
 
 When you left us, the result of many a 
 fierce conflict was, that Hurly remained 
 master of the green and garden, and the 
 whole of the out of door premises ; Rumpel 
 always upon the appearance of his victorious 
 enemy retiring into the house as a citadel or 
 sanctuary. The conqueror was, perhaps, in 
 part indebted for this superiority to his 
 hardier habits of life, living always in the 
 open air, and providing for himself; while 
 Rumpel, (who though born under a bum- 
 bailiff's roof was nevertheless kittened with 
 a silver spoon in his mouth,) passed his hours 
 in luxurious repose beside the fire, and 
 looked for his meals as punctually as any 
 two-legged member of the family. Yet I 
 believe that the advantage on Hurly 's side 
 is in a great degree constitutional also, and 
 that his superior courage arises from a 
 confidence in his superior strength, which, 
 as you well know, is visible in his make. 
 What Bento and Maria Rosa used to say 
 of my poor Thomaz, that he was muitofidal- 
 
 go, is true of Rumpelstilzchen, his coun- 
 tenance, deportment, and behaviour being 
 such that he is truly a gentleman-like Tom- 
 cat. Far be it from me to praise him be- 
 yond his deserts, he is not beautiful, the 
 mixture, tabby and white, is not good, (ex- 
 cept under very favourable combinations,) 
 and the tabby is not good of its kind. 
 Nevertheless he is a fine cat, handsome 
 enough for his sex, large, well-made, with 
 good features, and an intelligent counte- 
 nance, and carrying a splendid tail, which in 
 Cats and Dogs is undoubtedly the seat of 
 honour. His eyes, which are soft and ex- 
 pressive, are of a hue between chrysolite 
 and emerald. Hurlyburlybuss's are between 
 chrysolite and topaz. Which may be the 
 more esteemed shade for the olho de goto I 
 am not lapidary enough to decide. You 
 should ask my Uncle. But both are of the 
 finest water. In all his other features 
 Hurly must yield the palm, and in form 
 also ; he has no pretensions to elegance, his 
 size is ordinary and his figure bad : but the 
 character of his face and neck is so mascu- 
 line, that the Chinese, who use the word 
 bull as synonymous with male, and call a 
 boy a bull-child, might with great pro- 
 priety denominate him a bull-cat. His 
 make evinces such decided marks of 
 strength and courage, that if cat-fighting 
 were as fashionable as cock-fighting, no Cat 
 would stand a fairer chance for winning a 
 Welsh main. He would become as famous 
 as the Dog Billy himself, whom I look upon 
 as the most distinguished character that has 
 appeared since Buonaparte. 
 
 Some weeks ago Hurlyburlybuss was 
 manifestly emaciated and enfeebled by ill 
 health, and Rumpelstilzchen with great 
 magnanimity made overtures of peace. The 
 whole progress of the treaty was seen from 
 the parlour window. The caution with 
 which Rumpel made his advances, the sullen 
 dignity with which they were received, their 
 mutual uneasiness when Rumpel, after a 
 slow and wary approach, seated himself 
 whisker-to-whisker with his rival, the mu- 
 tual fear which restrained not only teeth 
 and claws, but even all tones of defiance,
 
 686 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 the mutual agitation of their tails which, 
 though they did not expand with anger, 
 could not be kept still for suspense, and 
 lastly the manner in which Hurly retreated, 
 like Ajax still keeping his face toward his 
 old antagonist, were worthy to have been 
 represented by that painter who was called 
 the Rafaelle of Cats. The overture I fear 
 was not accepted as generously as it was 
 made ; for no sooner had Hurlyburlybuss 
 recovered strength than hostilities were re- 
 commenced with greater violence than ever ; 
 Rumpel, who had not abused his superiority 
 while he possessed it, had acquired mean 
 time a confidence which made him keep the 
 field. Dreadful were the combats which 
 ensued, as their ears, faces and legs bore 
 witness. Rumpel had a wound which went 
 through one of his feet The result has been 
 so far in his favour that he no longer seeks 
 to avoid his enemy, and we are often com- 
 pelled to interfere and separate them. Oh 
 it is aweful to hear the " dreadful note of 
 preparation" with which they prelude their 
 encounters ! the long low growl slowly rises 
 and swells till it becomes a high sharp yowl, 
 and then it is snapped short by a sound which 
 seems as if they were spitting fire and venom 
 at each other. I could half persuade myself 
 that the word felonious is derived from the 
 feline temper as displayed at such times. 
 All means of reconciling them and making 
 them understand how goodly a thing it is 
 for cats to dwell together in peace, and 
 what fools they are to quarrel and tear each 
 other, are in vain. The proceedings of the 
 Society for the Abolition of War are not 
 more utterly ineffectual and hopeless. 
 
 All we can do is to act more impartially . 
 than the Gods did between Achilles and ! 
 
 FRAGMENT OF INTERCHAPTER. 
 
 [The following playful effusion was like- 
 wise, as the " Memoirs of Cat's Eden," in- 
 tended for " THE DOCTOR, &c.," but how it 
 was to have been moulded, so as to obscure 
 the incognito, I do not know. It will tend, 
 if I mistake not, to show the easy versatility, 
 the true evrpa-n-fXta, of a great and 
 a good man's mind. "Fortune," says 
 Fluellen, "is turning and inconstant, and 
 variations, and mutabilities," but one who, 
 in the midst of constant and laborious occu- 
 pations, could revel in such a recreation as 
 this " Chapter on the Statutes" was Fortune's 
 master, and above her wheel. 
 
 ARS CTINAM MORES ANIMUMQUE EFPINGERE POSSET : 
 PL'LCHKIOR IN TERR1S SULLA TABELLA FOBET.* 
 
 It may be added that there was another 
 very curious collection of Letters intended 
 for " THE DOCTOR, &c.," but they have not 
 come to my hand. They were written in a 
 peculiar dialect, and would have required 
 much mother wit and many vocabularies 
 to have decyphered them. She who sug- 
 gested them, a woman " of infinite jest, 
 of most excellent fancy," a good woman, 
 and a kind, is now gathered to her rest! ] 
 
 EI2 TOT2 ANAPIANTA2. 
 
 Hector, and continue to treat both with 
 equal regard. 
 
 And thus having brought down these 
 Memoirs of the Cats of Greta Hall to the 
 present day, I commit the precious me- 
 morial to your keeping, and remain 
 Most dissipated and light-heeled daughter, 
 Your most diligent and light-hearted father, 
 ROBERT SOTJTHET. 
 Keswick, 18 June, 1824. 
 
 ititniva-i TUTI trafxttfMiis itBfutroif, xai 
 
 t'lS TOUS TUt /3<XOVAV SjSflffXV ivJ/Tf . 
 
 CHRYSOST. HOM AD POPUL. ANTIOCHEN. 
 MY DEAR DAUGHTER, 
 
 Having lately been led to compose 
 an inscription for one of our Garden statues, 
 an authentic account of two such extraor- 
 dinary works of art has appeared to me so 
 desirable that I even wonder at myself for 
 having so long delayed to write one. It is 
 the more incumbent on me to do this, be- 
 cause neither of the artists have thought 
 
 C5 
 
 proper to inscribe their names upon these 
 master-pieces, either from that modesty 
 which often accompanies the highest genius, 
 
 * MART. Erica.
 
 THE DOCTOR, 
 
 687 
 
 or from a dignified consciousness that it was 
 unnecessary to set any mark upon them, the 
 works themselves sufficiently declaring from 
 what hands they came. 
 
 I undertake this becoming task with the 
 more pleasure because our friend Airs. Kee- 
 nan has kindly offered to illustrate the 
 intended account by drawings of botli Sta- 
 tues, having, as you may well suppose, 
 been struck with admiration by them. The ( 
 promise of this co-operation induces me not 
 to confine myself to a mere description, but 
 to relate on what occasion they were made, 
 and faithfully to record the very remarkable 
 circumstances which have occurred in con- 
 sequence; circumstances I will venture to 
 say, as well attested and as well worthy of 
 preservation as any of those related in the 
 History of the Portuguese Images of Nossa 
 Senhora, in ten volumes quarto, a book 
 of real value, and which you know I regard 
 as one of the most curious in my collection. 
 If in the progress of this design I should 
 sometimes appear to wander in digression, 
 you will not impute it to any habitual love 
 of circumlocution ; and the speculative no- 
 tions which I may have occasion to propose, 
 you will receive as mere speculations and 
 judge of them accordingly. 
 
 Many many years ago I remember to have 
 seen these popular and rustic rhymes in print, 
 
 God made a great man to plough and to sow, 
 God made a little man to drive away the crow ; 
 
 they were composed perhaps to make some 
 little man contented with that office, and 
 certain it is that in all ages and all countries 
 it has been an object of as much consequence 
 to preserve the seed from birds when sown, 
 as to sow it. No doubt Adam himself when 
 he was driven to cultivate the ground felt 
 this, and we who are his lineal descendants, 
 (though I am sorry to say we have not in- 
 herited a rood of his estates,) have felt it 
 also, in our small but not unimportant con- 
 cern, the Garden. Mrs. L., the Lady of 
 that Garden, used to complain grievously of 
 the depredations committed there, especially 
 upon her pease. Fowls and Ducks were 
 condemned either to imprisonment for life, 
 or to the immediate larder for their offences 
 
 of this kind ; but the magpies (my prote- 
 gees) and the sparrows, and the blackbirds 
 and the thrushes, bade defiance to the coop 
 and the cook. She tried to fright them 
 away by feathers fastened upon a string, but 
 birds were no more to be frightened by 
 feathers than to be caught by chaff. She 
 dressed up two mopsticks ; not to be for- 
 gotten, because when two youths sent their 
 straw hats upon leaving Keswick to K. and 
 B., the girls consigned the hats to these 
 mopsticks, and named the figures thus at- 
 tired in due honour of the youths, L. N., 
 and C. K. These mopsticks, however, were 
 well dressed enough to invite thieves from 
 the town, and too well to frighten the 
 birds. Something more effectual was wanted, 
 and Mrs. L. bespoke a man of Joseph Glover. 
 Such is the imperfection of language that, 
 write as carefully and warily as we can, it is 
 impossible to use words which will not fre- 
 quently admit of a double construction; upon 
 this indeed it is that the Lawyers have 
 founded the science of the Law, which said 
 science they display in extracting any mean- 
 ing from any words, and generally that 
 meaning that shall be most opposite to the 
 intention for which they were used. When 
 I say that your Aunt L. bespoke a man of 
 Joseph Glover, I do not mean that she com- 
 missioned him to engage a labourer : nor 
 that she required him actually to make a 
 man, like Frankenstein, though it must 
 be admitted that such a man as Frankenstein 
 made, would be the best of all scarecrows, 
 provided he were broken in so as to be per- 
 fectly manageable. To have made a man 
 indeed would have been more than even 
 Paracelsus would have undertaken to per- 
 form ; for according to the receipt which 
 that illustrious Bombast ab Hohenheim has 
 delivered to posterity, an homunculus cannot 
 be produced in a hotbed in less than forty 
 weeks and forty days ; and this would not 
 have been in time to save the pease ; not to 
 mention that one of his homunculi had it 
 been ready could not have served the pur- 
 pose, for by his account, when it was produced, 
 it was smaller even than Mark Thumb. Such 
 an order would have been more unreason-
 
 688 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 able than any of those which Juno imposed 
 upon Hercules ; whereas the task imposed 
 by Mrs. L. was nothing more than Glover 
 thought himself capable of executing, for 
 he understood the direction plainly and 
 simply in its proper sense, as a carpenter 
 ought to understand it. 
 
 An ordinary Carpenter might have hesi- 
 tated at undertaking it, or bungled in the 
 execution. But Glover is not an ordinary 
 Carpenter. He says of himself that he should 
 have been a capital singer, only the pity is, 
 that he has no voice. Whether he had ever 
 a similar persuasion of his own essential but 
 unproducible talents for sculpture or paint- 
 ing I know not : but if ever genius and 
 originality were triumphantly displayed in 
 the first effort of an untaught artist, it was 
 on this occasion. Perhaps I am wrong in 
 calling him untaught ; for there is a super- 
 natural or divine teaching ; and it will 
 appear presently that if there be any truth 
 in heathen philosophy, or in that of the 
 lloman Catholics, (which is very much the 
 same in many respects,) some such assist- 
 ance may be suspected in this case. 
 
 With or without such assistance, but cer- 
 tainly con amore, and with the aid of his 
 own genius, if of no other, Glover went to 
 work : ere long shouts of admiration were 
 heard one evening in the kitchen, so loud 
 and of such long continuance that inquiry 
 was made from the parlour into the cause, 
 and the reply was that Mrs. L.'s man was 
 brought home. Out we went, father, mother 
 and daughters, (yourself among them, for 
 you cannot have forgotten that memorable 
 hour,) My Lady and the Venerabilis, and 
 Mrs. L. herself, as the person more imme- 
 diately concerned. Seldom as it happens 
 that any artist can embody with perfect suc- 
 cess the conceptions of another, in this in- 
 stance the difficult and delicate task had 
 been perfectly accomplished. But I must 
 describe the Man, calling him by that 
 name at present, the power, ccon or intelli- 
 gence which had incorporated itself with 
 that ligneous resemblance of humanity not 
 having at that time been suspected. 
 
 Yet methinks more properly might he 
 
 have been called youth than man, the form 
 and stature being juvenile. The limbs and 
 body were slender, though not so as to con- 
 vey any appearance of feebleness, it was 
 rather that degree of slenderness which in 
 elegant and refined society is deemed essen- 
 tial to grace. The countenance at once 
 denoted strength and health and hilarity, 
 and the incomparable carpenter had given 
 it an expression of threatful and alert deter- 
 mination, suited to the station for which he 
 was designed and the weapon which he bore. 
 The shape of the face was rather round than 
 oval, resembling methinks the broad harvest 
 moon ; the eyes were of the deepest black, 
 the eyebrows black also ; and there was a 
 blackness about the nose and lips, such as 
 might be imagined in the face of Hercules, 
 while he was in the act of lifting and stran- 
 gling the yet unsubdued and struggling An- 
 tasus. On his head was a little hat, low in the 
 crown and narrow in the brim. His dress 
 was a sleeved jacket without skirts, our 
 ancestors would have called it agipion ;jubon 
 it would be rendered if ever this description 
 were translated into Spanish, gibao in Por- 
 tuguese ; jupon or gippon in old French. It 
 was fastened from the neck downward with 
 eight white buttons, two and two, and be- 
 tween them was a broad white stripe, the 
 colour of the gipion being brown : whether 
 the stripe was to represent silver lace, or a 
 white facing like that of the naval uniform, 
 is doubtful and of little consequence. The 
 lower part of his dress represented inno- 
 minables and hose in one, of the same colour 
 as the gipion. And he carried a fowling- 
 piece in his hand. 
 
 Great was the satisfaction which we all 
 expressed at beholding so admirable a man ; 
 great were the applauses which we bestowed 
 upon the workman with one consent ; and 
 great was the complacency with which Glover 
 himself regarded the work of his own hands. 
 He thought, he said, this would please us. 
 Please us indeed it did, and so well did it 
 answer that after short trial Mrs. L. think- 
 ing that a second image would render the 
 whole garden secure, and moreover that it 
 was not good for her Man to be alone,
 
 THE STATUES 
 
 London; Longman & C ".
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 689 
 
 directed Glover to make a woman also. The 
 woman accordingly was made. Flesh of his 
 flesh and bone of his bone, she could not be, 
 the Man himself not being made of such 
 materials ; but she was wood of his wood and 
 plank of his plank, which was coming as 
 nearly as possible to it, made of the same 
 tree and fashioned by the same hand. 
 
 The woman was in all respects a goodly 
 mate for the man, except that she seemed to 
 be a few years older ; she was rather below the 
 mean stature, in that respect resembling the 
 Venus de Medicis ; slender waisted yet not 
 looking as if she were tight-laced, nor so 
 thin as to denote ill health. Her dress was 
 a gown of homely brown, up to the neck. 
 The artist had employed his brightest colours 
 upon her face ; even the eyes and nose par- 
 took of that brilliant tint which is sometimes 
 called the roseate hue of health or exercise, 
 sometimes the purple light of love. The 
 whites of her eyes were large. She also was 
 represented in a hat, but higher in the crown 
 and broader in the rim than the man's, and 
 where his brim was turned up, her's had a 
 downward inclination giving a feminine cha- 
 racter to that part of her dress. 
 
 She was placed in the garden : greatly as 
 we admired both pieces of workmanship, we 
 considered them merely as what they seemed 
 to be ; they went by the names of Mrs. 
 L.'s Man and Woman ; and even when you 
 departed for the south they were still known 
 only by that vague and most unworthy de- 
 signation. Some startling circumstances 
 after awhile excited a more particular atten- 
 tion to them; Several of the family declared 
 they had Seen frightened by them; and 
 K. one evening came in saying that Aunt 
 L.'s woman had given Tier a jump. Even 
 this did not awaken any suspicion of their 
 supernatural powers as it ought to have done, 
 till on a winter's night, one of the maids hear- 
 ing a knock at the back door opened it ; and 
 started back when she saw that it was the 
 woman with a letter in her hand ! This is 
 as certain as that Nosso Senhor dos Passos 
 knocked at the door of S. Roque's convent 
 in Lisbon and was not taken in, to the infi- 
 nite regret of the monks when they learned 
 
 that he had gone afterwards to the Graca 
 Convent and been admitted there. It is as 
 certain that I have seen men, women and 
 children of all ranks kissing the foot of the 
 said Image in the Church, and half Lisbon 
 following his procession in the streets. It is 
 as certain as all the miracles in the Fasti, the 
 Metamorphoses, and the Acta Sanctorum. 
 
 Many remarkable things were now called 
 to mind both of the man and woman; 
 how on one occasion they had made Miss 
 Christian's maid miscarry of half a mes- 
 sage ; and how at another time when Isaac 
 was bringing a basket from Mr. Calvert's, 
 he was frightened into his wits by them. 
 But on Sunday evening last the most extra- 
 ordinary display of wonderful power oc- 
 curred, for in the evening the woman, instead 
 of being in her place among the pease, ap- 
 peared standing erect on the top of Mr. 
 Fisher's haymow in the forge field, and there 
 on the following morning she was seen by 
 all Keswick, who are witnesses of the fact. 
 
 You may well suppose that I now began 
 to examine into the mystery, and manifold 
 were the mysteries which I discovered, and 
 many the analogies in their formation of 
 which the maker could never by possibility 
 have heard ; and many the points of divine 
 philosophy and theurgic science which they 
 illustrated. In the first place two Sweden- 
 borgian correspondencies flashed upon me 
 in the material whereof they were con- 
 structed. They were intended to guard the 
 Garden ; there is a proverb which says, set a 
 thief to catch a thief, and therefore it is that 
 they were fir statues. Take it in English 
 and the correspondence is equally striking ; 
 they were made of deal, because they were 
 to do a deal of good. The dark aspect of 
 the male figure also was explained ; for 
 being stationed there contra fures, it was 
 proper that he should have a furious coun- 
 tenance. Secondly there is something won- 
 derful in their formation : they are bi- 
 fronted, not merely bifaced like Janus, but 
 bifronted from top to toe. Let the thief be 
 as cunning as he may he cannot get behind 
 them. They have no backs, and were they 
 disposed to be indolent and sit at their posts
 
 690 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 it would be impossible. They can appear at 
 the kitchen door, or on the haymow, they 
 can give the children and even the grown 
 persons of the family a jump, but to sit is 
 beyond their power, however miraculous it 
 may be ; for impossibilities cannot be effected 
 even by miracle, and as it is impossible to 
 see without eyes, or to walk without legs, 
 or for a ship to float without a bottom, so is 
 it for a person in the same predicament as 
 such a ship to sit. 
 
 Yet farther mysteries ; both hands of 
 these marvellous statues are right hands and 
 both are left hands, they are at once ambi- 
 dexter and ambisinister. It was said by 
 Dryden of old Jacob Tonson that he had 
 two left legs : but these marvellous statues 
 have two left legs and two right legs each, 
 and yet but four legs between them, that is 
 to say but two a-piece. In the whole course 
 of my reading I have found no account of 
 any statues so wonderful as these. For 
 though the Roman Janus was bifronted, and 
 my old acquaintance Yamen had in like 
 manner a double face, and many of the 
 Hindoo and other Oriental Deities have their 
 necks set round with heads, and their elbows 
 with arms, yet it is certain that all these 
 Gods have backs, and sides to them also. 
 In this point no similitude can be found for 
 our Images. They may be likened to the 
 sea as being bottomless, but as being with- 
 out a back, and in the mystery of having 
 both hands and legs at once right and left, 
 they are unequalled ; none but themselves 
 can be their parallel. 
 
 Now, my daughter, I appeal to you and to 
 all other reasonable persons, I put the 
 question to your own plain sense, is it 
 anyways likely that statues so wonderful, so 
 inexpressibly mysterious in their properties 
 should be the mere work of a Keswick car- 
 penter, though aided as he was by Airs. L.'s 
 directions? Is it not certain that neither 
 he, nor Mrs. L., had the slightest glimpse, 
 the remotest thought of any such properties, 
 she when she designed, he when he exe- 
 cuted the marvellous productions? Is it 
 possible that they should ? Would it not be 
 preposterous to suppose it ? 
 
 This supposition therefore being proved 
 to be absurd, which in mathematics is equal 
 to a demonstration that the contrary must 
 be true, it remains to inquire into the real 
 origin of their stupendous qualities. Both 
 the ancient Heathens and the Romanists 
 teach that certain Images of the Gods or of 
 the Saints have been made without the aid 
 of human hands, and that they have appeared 
 no one knew whence or how. The Greeks 
 called such images Diopeteis, as having 
 fallen from the sky, and I could enumerate, 
 were it needful, sundry Catholic Images 
 which are at this day venerated as being 
 either of angelic workmanship or celestial 
 origin. We cannot, however, have recourse 
 to this solution in the present case ; for 
 Glover is so veracious a man that if he had 
 found these figures in his workshop without 
 knowing how they came there, or if he 
 had seen them grow into shape while he was 
 looking on, he would certainly not have 
 concealed a fact so extraordinary. All Kes- 
 wick would have known it. It must have 
 become as notorious as Prince Hohenlohe's 
 miracles. 
 
 There remains then another hypothesis, 
 which is also common to the ancient Pagans 
 and the Romanists ; that some superior 
 powers finding a congruity in the Images 
 have been pleased to communicate to them 
 a portion of their influence, and even of 
 their presence, and so, if I may be allowed 
 the word, have actually become mligneate 
 in them. Were my old acquaintance, 
 Thomas Taylor, here, who entirely believes 
 this, he would at once determine which of 
 his Heathen Deities have thus manifested 
 their existence. Who indeed that looks at 
 the Youth but must be reminded of Apollo ? 
 Said I that his face resembled in its rotun- 
 dity the Moon ? the Sun would have been 
 the fitter similitude, the sun shorn of its 
 beams: Phoebus, such as he appeared 
 when in the service of Admetus. And for 
 his female companion, her beauty and the 
 admiration which it excites in all beholders, 
 identify her with no less certainty for 
 Venus. We have named them therefore 
 the Apollo de Lovell, and the Venus do
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 691 
 
 Glover ; in justice to both artists ; and in 
 farther honour of them aud of the Images 
 themselves have composed the following 
 inscription : 
 
 No works of Phidias we ; but Mrs. L. 
 
 Designed, and we were mailt by Joseph Glover. 
 Apollo, I, and yonder Venus stai.ds. 
 
 Behold her, and you cannot chuse hut love her. 
 If antient sculptors could nehol j us here, 
 
 How would they pine with envy and abhorrence I 
 For even as I surpass their Belvedere, 
 
 So much doth she excel the pride 01 Florence. 
 
 EPILUDE OF MOTTOES. 
 
 Careless ! bring your apprehension along with you. 
 
 CONGHEVE. 
 
 If I have written a sentence, or a word, that can bear a 
 captious or unreasonable construction, I earnestly intreat 
 a more lenient interpretation. When a man feels acutely, 
 he may perhaps speak at times more pointedly than he 
 ought ; yet, in the present instance, I am conscious of no 
 sentiment which I could wish to alter. BISHOP JEBB. 
 
 . T<tT, xovl\ avriaf 
 
 .i. ARISTOPHANES. 
 
 Will you be true ? 
 TRO. Who, I ? alas, it is my vice, my fault. 
 
 While others fish with craft for great opinion, 
 I with great truth catch mere simplicity. 
 Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns, 
 With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare. 
 Fear not my truth ; the moral of my wit 
 Is " plain and true ; " there's all the reach of It. 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 come augel cfie pria s' amenta e feme 
 Stassifra i rami paventoso e solo 
 Miranda quetto cd or quell' altro colle ; 
 Cost mi leva e mi ritengo insieme, 
 L' ale aguzzando al mio dubbioso volo. 
 
 GUJSTO DE' CONTI. 
 
 Whosoever be reader hereof maie take it by reason for 
 a riclie and a newe labour ; and speciallie princes and 
 governours of the common wealth, and ministers of jus- 
 tice, with other. Also the common people eche of theim 
 maie fynd the labour couveniente to their estate. And 
 herein is conteigned certaine right highe and profounde 
 sentences, and noisome counsaylles, and mervaillous 
 devyses agaynste the encumbraunce of fortune; and 
 ryght swete consolacions for theim that are overthrowen 
 by fortune. Finally it is good to them that digeste it, 
 and thauke God that hath given such grace to the Auctour 
 in gevyng us example of vertuous livyrg, with hye and 
 salutary doctrynes, and marvailous instructions of per- 
 fectness A ryght precious meale is the sentences of 
 this boke ; but fynally the sauce of the saied swete style 
 moveth the appetyte. Many bookes there be of substan- 
 ciall meates, but they bee so rude and so unsavery, and 
 the style of so small grace, that the first morcell is loth. 
 some and noyfull ; and of suche bookes foloweth to lye 
 hole and sounde in lybraries ; but I trust this will not. 
 Of trouth great prayse it due to the auctour of his travayle. 
 LORD BI.UM.US. 
 
 The current that with gentle murmur glides, 
 
 Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage ; 
 
 But when his fair course is not hindered, 
 
 He makes sweet music with the enamel'd stones, 
 
 Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge 
 
 He overtaketh in his pilgrimage ; 
 
 And so by many winding nooks he strays, 
 
 With willing sport, to the wild ocean. 
 
 Then let me go, and hinder not my course; 
 
 I'll be as patient as a gentle stream, 
 
 And make a pastime of each weary step, 
 
 Till the last step have brought me to my rest. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 Sith you have long time drawn the weeds of my wit and 
 fed yourselves with the cockle of my conceits, I have at 
 i.ist made you gleaners of my harvest, and partakers of 
 my experience. Here shall you find the style varying 
 according to the matter, suitable to the style, and all of 
 these aimed to profit If the title make you suspect, com- 
 pare it with the matter, it will answer you ; if the matter, 
 apply it with the censures of the learned, they will coun- 
 tenance the same ; of the handling I repent me not, for I 
 had rather you should condemn me for default in rheto- 
 rick, than commend my style and lament my judgement. 
 Thus resolved both of the matter, and satisfied in my 
 method, I leave the whole to your judgements ; which, if 
 they be not depraved with envy, will be bettered in know- 
 ledge, and if not carried away with opinion, will receive 
 much profit. THOMAS LODGE. 
 
 This good Wine I present, needs no Ivy-bush. They 
 that taste thereof shall feel the fruit to their best content, 
 and better understanding. The learned shall meet with 
 matter to refresh their memories ; the younger students, 
 a directory to fashion their discourse ; the weakest capa- 
 city, matter of wit, worth and admiration. 
 
 T. L. D. M. P's. Epistle Prefatory to the Learned 
 Summarie upon the famous Poem of William of 
 Salust, Lord of BARTAS. 
 
 This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeon's pease. 
 And utters it again when Jove doth please ; 
 He is wit's pedlar, and retails his wares. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. 
 
 Imagination, thro' the trick 
 Of Doctors, often makes us sick ; 
 And why, let any sophist tell, 
 May it not likewise make us well ! 
 
 CHURCHILL. 
 
 His mind fastens 
 
 On twenty several objects, which confound 
 Deep sense with folly. WEBSTER. 
 
 It is a crown unto a gentle breast, 
 To impart the pleasure of his flowing mind, 
 
 (Whose sprightly motion never taketh rest) 
 To one whose bosom he doth open find. 
 
 THOMAS SCOTT. 
 
 Be prepared to hear: 
 And since you know you cannot see yourself 
 So well as by reflection, I, your glass, 
 Will modestly discover to yourself 
 That of yourself which you yet know not of. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 And whereas in my expression I am very plain and 
 downright, and in my teaching part seem to tautologize, 
 it should be considered, (and whoever has been a teacher 
 
 Y Y 3
 
 692 
 
 THE DOCTOE. 
 
 will remember,) that the learners must be plainly dealt 
 with, and must have several times renewed unto them 
 the same thing Therefore I have chosen so to do in 
 several places, because I had rather (in such cases) speak 
 three words too many, than one syllable too few. 
 
 THOMAS MACE. 
 
 Lire et repasser souvent 
 
 Sur Athenes et sur Rome, 
 (Test dequoyfaire un Sfavant, 
 
 Mais nun pas un habile homme. 
 
 Meditez incessamment, 
 
 Devorez livre apres livre, 
 (Test en vivant settlement 
 
 Que voui apprendrex a vivre. 
 
 Avant qu'en sqavoir les loix, 
 
 La clarte nous est ravie : 
 Il/audroit vivre deuxfois 
 
 Pour bien conduire sa vie. 
 
 DE CHARLEVAL. 
 
 If we could hit on't, gallants, there are due 
 Certain respects from writers, and from you. 
 
 PROLOGUE TO THE ADVENTURES OF FIVE HOURS. 
 
 Here you have a piece so subtly writ 
 
 Men must have wit themselves to find the wit. 
 
 EPILOGUE TO THE ADVENTURES OF FIVE HOURS. 
 
 All puddings have two ends, and most short sayings 
 Two handles to their meaning. 
 
 LORD DIGBY. 
 
 Reader, Now I send thee like a Bee to gather honey out 
 of flowers and weeds ; every garden is furnished with 
 either, and so is ours. Read and meditate; thy profit 
 shall be little in any book, unless thou read alone, and 
 unless thou read all aud record after. 
 
 HENRY SMITH. 
 
 The most famous of the Pyramids was that of Hermes. 
 Through each door of this Pyramid was an entrance 
 into seven apartments, called by the names of the Planets. 
 In each of them was a golden Statue. The biggest was 
 in the apartment of Osiris, or the Sun. It had a book 
 upon its forehead, and its hand upon its mouth. Upon 
 the outside of the Book was written this inscription. / 
 must be read in a profound silence. 
 
 TRAVELS OF CYRUS. 
 
 Facia ego ut solent, qui quanta plus aliquem mirantur 
 et explicare volunt quod sentiunt, eo minus id assequuntur 
 quod vulunt, ut quamquam magnum illiquid animo con- 
 cipiunt, verba tamen desint, et moliri potius qudm dicere 
 potuisse videantur. 
 
 HERMOLAUS BARBARUS Jo. Pico MIRANDUL/E. 
 
 Nihil mihi potest este beat/us quam scire ; discendum 
 vcro ut sciamus. Ego quidem sapientiee ambilum, tan- 
 quam annni nostri terarium quondam semper judicavi, id 
 quod communia commentationum nostrarum vectigalia 
 inferenda censeo, sed proba ; untie sibi suum quisque in 
 usutn su?nat sine inviilia atque simultate. 
 
 3. C. SCALIGER. 
 
 Felix yerba es la yedra, si se enrama 
 A un muro altivo, a quien no alcanza el corte 
 De la envidia ; puer queda con su altura, 
 El mas vistoso, y ella mas segura. 
 
 BALBUENA, EL BERNARDO. 
 
 enpoco tiempo te he dicho 
 lo que passd en mucho tiempo. 
 
 CALDERON, EL MAESTUO DE DANZAR. 
 
 I'll range the plenteous intellectual field, 
 
 And pather every thuuyht of sovereign power 
 
 To chase the moral maladies of man ; 
 
 Thoughts which may bear transplanting to the skies, 
 
 Nor wholly wither there where Seraphs sing, 
 
 Refine J , exalted, not anuull'd in heaven. YOUNG. 
 
 Let every man enjoy his whim ; 
 _j What's he to me, or I to him. 
 
 CHURCHILL. 
 
 And whereas I may seem too smart or satyrical in some 
 particular places, I do not at all repent me, as thinking 
 what is said to such ill-deserving persons much too little. 
 
 THOMAS MACE. 
 Play the fool with wits, 
 'Gainst fools be guarded, 'tis a certain rule, 
 Wits are safe things ; there's danger in a fool. 
 
 CHURCHILL. 
 
 And in this thought they find a kind of ease, 
 Bearing their own misfortune on the back 
 Of such as have before endured the like. 
 
 RICHARD II. 
 
 Our life indeed has bitterness enough 
 
 To change a loving nature into gall : 
 Experience sews coarse patches on the stuff 
 
 Whose texture was originally all 
 Smooth as the rose-leafs, and whose hues were bright 
 
 As are the colours of the weeping cloud 
 When the sun smiles upon its tears. 
 
 MRS. LENOX CONYNGHAM. 
 
 Thus much we know, eternal bliss and pure, 
 By God's unfailing promise, is secure 
 To them who their appointed lot endure 
 
 Meekly, striving to fulfil, 
 In humble hopefulness, God's will. 
 
 MRS. LENOX CONYNGHAM. 
 
 I thowt how hard it is to denye 
 
 A ladye's preyer, wych after the entent 
 
 Of the poete is a myghty comaundement ; 
 
 Wherfore me thoht as in this caas 
 
 That my wyt war lakkyd bettyr it was 
 
 That my wyl, and therfore to do 
 
 My ladyes preyer I assentyd to. 
 
 OSBERN BOKENAM. 
 
 CAIIJEUON. 
 
 lo eminente se rinde ; 
 que a lojacil del tiempo 
 no ay conquisla (lificil. 
 
 W r e only meet on earth 
 That we may know how sad it is to part : 
 And sad indeed it were, if in the heart 
 There were no store reserved against a dearth, 
 No calm Elysium for departed Mirth, 
 Haunted by gentle shadows of past pleasure, 
 Where the sweet folly, the light-footed measure, 
 And graver trifles of the shining hearth 
 Live in their own dear image. 
 
 HARTLEY COLEKIDGE. 
 
 Sweet are the thoughts that smother from conceit : 
 
 For when I come and sit me down to rest, 
 
 My chair presents a throne of majesty ; 
 
 And when I set my bonnet on my head, 
 
 Methinks I fit my forehead for a crown ; 
 
 And when I take a truncheon in my fis,t, 
 
 A sceptre then comes tumbling in my thought*. 
 
 ROBEKT. GHEENE.
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 693 
 
 Quanquam verb hoc mihi non polliceri possum, me 
 ubique veritatem quam sectatus sum, assecutum esse , s ed 
 potius eofine ea proposal', ut et alias ad verilatis invesli- 
 galionem invitarem : tamen ut recte Galenas habet, 
 
 ... 
 
 Kurt*;, br.trtu Tkr,triifrt(i> r, tut ffu.lt if^t. 
 Audertdum tst, et vcritas investiganda, quam ctiamsi non 
 aisequamur, omnino tamen propius quant nunc sumus, 
 ed ram perveniemus. duo vero ego animo ad scribendum 
 accessi, eo ut alii ad legendum acctdanl, oplo. 
 
 SENNERTUS. 
 
 I do confess the imperfect performance. Yet I must 
 take the boldness to say, I have not inUcarried in the 
 whole; for the mechanical part of it is regular. That I 
 may say with as little vanity, as a builder may say he has 
 built a house according to the model laid down before 
 him, or a gardener that he has set his flowers in a knot of 
 such or such a figure. COHGREVE. 
 
 As wheresoever these leaves fall, the root is in my 
 heart, so shall they have ever true impressions thereof. 
 Thus much information is in very leaves, that they can 
 tell what the Tree is; and these can tell you I am a 
 friend and an honest man. DONNE. 
 
 On ne recognoistroit les monti, sans lei valeet } 
 Et let tallies encor artistement meslees 
 En ccuvre mosayque, ont, pour plus grand beaute, 
 Diri-rs prif, divers teint, diverse quantite. 
 Dieu vueille qu'cn mes chants la plus insigne tache 
 Semble le moucheron qu'une pucelle attache 
 A saface neigeuse, et que bien pen ferreurs 
 Donnent lustre aux beaux traicts de mes hautesfureurs. 
 Do BAKTAS, LA MAGNIFICENCE. 
 
 HilU were not seen but for the vales betwixt ; 
 
 The deep indentings artificial raixt 
 
 Amid mosaicks, for mere ornament, 
 
 Have prizes, sizes and dyes different. 
 
 And, Oh, God grant, the greatest spot you spy 
 
 In all my frame, may be but as the fly, 
 
 Which on her ruff, (whiter than whitest snowg,) 
 
 To whiten white, the fairest virgin sows, 
 
 (Or like the velvet on her brow, or like 
 
 The dunker mole on Venus' dainty cheek.) 
 
 And that a few faults may but lustre bring 
 
 To my high furies where I sweetest sing. 
 
 SYLVESTER. 
 
 Be as capricious and sick-brained as ignorance and 
 malice can make thee, here thou art rectified ; or be as 
 healthful as the inward calm of an honest heart, learning, 
 and temper can state thy disposition, yet this book may 
 be thy fortunate concernment and companion. 
 
 SHIRLEY. 
 
 Humble and meek befitteth men of years, 
 Behold my cell, built in a silent shade, 
 Holding content for poverty and peace, 
 And in my lodge is fealty and faith, 
 Labour and love united in one league. 
 I want not, for my mind affordeth wealth, 
 I know not envy, for I climb not high ; 
 Thus do I live, and thus I mean to die. 
 
 ROBERT GREENE. 
 
 The events of to-day make us look forward to what will 
 happen to-morrow ; those of yesterday carry our views 
 into another world. DANBY. 
 
 Mine earnest intent is as much to profit as to please, 
 non tarn ut populo place ren>, quam at popnlum juvarem : 
 and these my writings shall take, I hope, like gilded pills, 
 
 which are so composed as well to tempt the appetite and 
 deceive the palate, as to help and medicinally work upon 
 the whole body. My lines shall not only recreate, but 
 rectify the mind. BURTON. 
 
 Sit thou a patient looker on ; 
 Judge not the play, before the play is done, 
 Her plot has many changes ; every day 
 Speaks a new scene, the last act crowns the play. 
 
 QUABLBS. 
 
 Lord, if thy gracious bounty please to fill 
 The floor of my desires, and teach me skill 
 To dress and chuse the corn, take those the chaff that 
 will. QDARLES. 
 
 Je n'ay pas plus faict man livre, que man litre m'a 
 faict, livre consubstantiel a ion autheur. MONTAIGNE. 
 
 te le parole che usa to scrittore portan seco un poco, 
 non (lira di d(fficulta, ma d'acutexxa recondita, et non cost 
 nota, come quelle che si dicono parlando ordinariamente, 
 danno una certa maggior auttorita alia scrittura, etfanno 
 che il lettore va piit ritenuto, et supra di se, et meglio con- 
 sidera, et si diletta dell' ingegno et dottrina di chi scrive ; 
 et col buon giudicio affaticandosi un poco gusta quel 
 piacere, che s' ha nel conseguir le cose difficili. Et se 
 f ignorantia di chi legge e tanta, che non posse superar 
 qutlla difficult^, non e la colpa dello scrittore. 
 
 CASTIGLIONE, IL CORTIGIANO. 
 
 Certa estava eu que o Doutor sabia de tudo o que disse 
 nao so os termos e/undamentoi, mas acuda o mas d(ffi- 
 cultoza, e substancial ; mas o praticar dellas de modo, 
 que en as entendesse, he graya de seu saber, e na"a suffi- 
 ctencia do meu ingenho. FRANCISCO RODRIGUES LOBO. 
 
 Sir, Our greatest business is more in our power than 
 the least, and we may be surer to meet in Heaven than in 
 any place upon earth ; and whilst we are distant here, we 
 may meet as often as we list in God's presence, by soli- 
 citing in our prayers for one another. DONNE. 
 
 Or ti riman, Lettor, lovra 'I tuo banco, 
 Dietro pensando a do che si preliba, 
 S' esser vuci lieto assai prima che stanco. 
 
 Messo t' ho innanzi ; omaiper te ti ciba ; 
 Che a se ritorce tutta la mia cura 
 Quella mater ia and' to son fat to scriba. DANTE. 
 
 I have been often told that nobody now would read any 
 thing that was plain and true ; that was accounted dull 
 work, except one mixed something of the sublime, pro- 
 digious, monstrous, or incredible ; and then they would 
 read the one for the sake of the other So rather than 
 not be read, I have put in a proportionable little of the 
 monstrous. If any thing be found fault with, it is possible 
 I may explain and add. HDTCHINSON. 
 
 Who seeketh in thee for profit and gain 
 Of excellent matter soon shall attain. 
 
 T. H. 
 
 Pay me like for like ; give me good thoughts for great 
 studies ; and at leastwise shew me this courtly courtesy to 
 afford me good words, which cost you nothing, for serious 
 thoughts hatched up with much consideration. Thus 
 commending my deserts to the learned, and committing 
 my labour to the instruction of the ignorant, I bid you all 
 heartily farewell. LAZARUS PIOT. 
 
 Even at this time, when I humbly thank God, I ask and 
 have his comfort 01" sadder meditations, I do not condemn 
 in myself that I have given my wit such evaporations as 
 these. UONNE.
 
 694 
 
 THE DOCTOR. 
 
 L'ENVOY. 
 
 GENTLE Reader for if thou art fond of 
 such works as these, thou art like to be the 
 Gentleman and the Scholar I take upon 
 me to advertise thee that the Printer of 
 THE DOCTOR, &c. is William Kicol of the 
 Shakspeare Press the long-tried Friend 
 of the lamented Sou they and of their mutual 
 Friend, the late Grosvenor Bedford of Her 
 Majesty's Exchequer 
 
 Felices animte, et quales neqve ccmdidiores 
 Terra ttUit! 
 
 The Sonnet following, Gentle Reader, I 
 do thee to wit, is the composition of the 
 above kind-hearted and benevolent William 
 Nicol and I wish it to be printed, because 
 
 on Grosvenor Bedford's short visit to Sou they 
 in 1836, he expressed himself much pleased 
 with it. May be, if thou art fond of the 
 gentle craft, it may please thee too, and so 
 I wish thee heartily farewell ! 
 
 Who wrote THE DOCTOR? Who's the scribe unknown? 
 Time may discover, when the grave has closed 
 Its earthy jaws o'er us, who now are posed 
 To father that which greatest pen might own ; 
 
 Learning diffuse, quaint humour, lively wit, 
 Satire severe and bold, or covert, sly, 
 Turning within itself the mental eye 
 To fancies strange that round its orbit flit, 
 
 Unknown to others and by self scarce seen ; 
 
 Teaching, in sweetest English, England's plan, 
 When England was herself, her laurels green 
 
 Honour to God and charity to man : 
 
 Who wrote the Doctor ? her best Son, I ween, 
 Whether his works, or his fair life you scan. 
 
 THB BSD. 
 
 tOHDOlT 
 PBJJflEB BY SPOTTISWOODS AKD CO. 
 
 -tT SQUAKB
 
 L/urfrtv
 
 39 PATERNOSTER Row, E.G. 
 LONDON, July 1865. 
 
 GENERAL LIST OF WOBKS, 
 
 NEW BOOKS AND NEW EDITIONS, 
 
 PUBLISHED BT 
 
 Messrs, LOMMAIS, GREEI, READER, and DYER. 
 
 ARTS, MANUFACTURES, &c 11 
 
 ASTRONOMY, METEOROLOGY, POPULAR 
 
 GEOGRAPHY, &c 7 
 
 BIOGRAPHY AND MEMOIRS 3 
 
 CHEMISTRY, MEDICINE, SURGERY, AND 
 
 THE ALLIED SCIENCES 9 
 
 COMMERCE, NAVIGATION, AND MERCAN- 
 TILE AFFAIRS 18 
 
 CRITICISM, PHILOLOGY, &c 4 
 
 FINE ARTS AND ILLUSTRATED EDITIONS 10 
 
 GENERAL AND SCHOOL ATLASES 19 
 
 HISTORICAL WORKS 1 
 
 INDEX ., ...2124 
 
 KNOWLEDGE FOR THE YOUNG 20 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS AND POPULAR META- 
 PHYSICAL WORKS 6 
 
 NATURAL HISTORY AND POPULAR 
 
 SCIENCE 8 
 
 PERIODICAL PUBLICATIONS 20 
 
 POETRY AND THE DRAIIA 17 
 
 RELIGIOUS WORKS 12 
 
 RURAL SPORTS, &c 17 
 
 TRAVELS, VOYAGES, &c 15 
 
 WORKS OF FICTION 16 
 
 WORKS OF UTILITY AND GENERAL IN- 
 FORMATION .. 18 
 
 Historical Works. 
 
 The History of England from 
 
 the Fall of Wolsey to the Death of Eliza- 
 beth. By JAMES ANTHONY FROCDE, M.A. 
 late Fellow of Exeter College, Oxford. 
 
 VOLS. I. to IV. the Reign of Henrv 
 VIII. Third Edition, 54s. 
 
 VOLS. V. and VI. the Reigns of Edward 
 VI. and Mary. Second Edition, 28*. 
 
 VOLS. VII. and VIII. the Reign of 
 Elizabeth, VOLS. I. and II. Third Edi- 
 tion, 28*. 
 
 The History of England from 
 
 the Accession of James II. By Lord 
 MACAULAY. Three Editions, as follows. 
 
 LIBRARY EDITION, 5 vols. 8vo. 4. 
 
 CABIN tT EDITION, 8 vols. post 8vo. 48s. 
 
 PEOPLE'S EDITION, 4 vols. crown 8vo. 16s. 
 
 Revolutions in English History. 
 
 By ROBERT VAUGHAN, D.D. 3 vols. 8vo. 45s. 
 
 VOL. I. Revolutions of Race, 15s. 
 VOL. II. Revolutions in Religion, 15*. 
 VOL. III. RevolutionsinGovernment,15jf. 
 
 An Essay on the History of the 
 
 English Government and Constitution, from 
 the Reign of Henry VII. to the Present 
 Time. By JOHN EARL RUSSELL. Third 
 Edition, revised, with Xew Introduction. 
 Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 The History of England during 
 
 the Reign of George the Third. By 
 WILLIAM MASSEY, M.P. 4 vols. 8vo. 48s. 
 
 The Constitutional History of 
 
 England, since the Accession of George III. 
 1760 1860. By THOMAS ERSKINK MAY, 
 C.B. Second Edition. 2 vols. 8vo. 33s. 
 
 Historical Studies. I. On some of 
 
 the Precursors of the French Revolution; 
 II. Studies from the History of the Seven- 
 teenth Century; III. Leisure Hours of a 
 Tourist. By HERMAN MERIVALF., M.A. 
 8vo. 12s. Gd~ 
 
 Lectures on the History of Eng- 
 land. By WILLIAM LONGMAN. VOL. I. 
 from the Earliest Times to the Death of 
 King Edward II. with 6 Maps, a coloured 
 Plate, and 53 Woodcuts. 8vo. 15*.
 
 NEW WORKS PUBLISHED B Y LONGMANS AND CO. 
 
 A Chronicle of England, from B.C. 
 
 55 to A.D. 1485 ; written and illustrated by 
 J. E. DOYLE. With 81 Designs engraved 
 on Wood and printed in Colours by 
 E. Evans. 4 to. 42s. 
 
 History of Civilization. By HENRY 
 THOMAS BUCKLE. 2 vols. 1 17s. 
 
 VOL. I. England and France, Fourth 
 Edition, 21s. 
 
 VOL. II. Spain and Scotland, Second 
 Edition, 16s. 
 
 Democracy in America. By ALEXIS 
 
 DE TOCQUEVILLE. Translated by HENRI- 
 REEVE, with an Introductory Notice by the 
 Translator. 2 vols. 8vo. 21s. 
 
 The Spanish Conquest in 
 
 America, and its Relation to the History of 
 Slavery and to the Government of Colonies. 
 By ARTHUR HELPS. 4 vols. 8vo. 3. 
 VOLS. I. & II. 28s. VOLS. III. & IV. 18s. each. 
 
 History of the Reformation in 
 
 Europe in the Tirne of Calvin. By J. H. 
 MERLE D'AOBIGNE, D.D. VOLS. I. and 
 II. 8vo. 28s. and VOL. III. 12s. 
 
 Library History of France, in 
 
 5 vols. 8vo. By EYRE EVANS CROWE. 
 VOL. I. 14s. VOL. II. 15s. VOL. III. 18s. 
 VOL. IV. nearly ready. 
 
 Lectures on the History of 
 France. By the late Sir JAMES STEPHEN, 
 LL.D. 2 vols. 8vo. 24s. 
 
 The History of Greece. By C. THIRL- 
 WALL, D.D. Lord Bishop of St. David's. 
 8 vols. 8vo. 3 ; or in 8 vols. fcp. 28s. 
 
 The Tale of the Great Persian 
 
 War, from the Histories of Herodotus. By 
 GEORGE W. Cox, M.A. late Scholar of 
 Trin. Coll. Oxon. Fcp. 7s. 6c7. 
 
 Ancient History of Egypt, As- 
 syria, and Babylonia. By the Author of 
 ' Amy Herbert.' Fcp. 8 vo. 6s. 
 
 Critical History of the Lan- 
 guage and Literature of Ancient Greece. 
 By WILLIAM MURE, of Caldwell. 5 vols. 
 8vo. 3 9s. 
 
 History of the Literature of 
 
 Ancient Greece. By Professor K. O.MULLER. 
 Translated by the Right Hon. Sir GEORGE 
 CORNEWALL LEWIS, Bart, and by J. W. 
 DONALDSON, D.D. 3 vols. Svo. 36s. 
 
 History of the Romans under 
 
 the Empire. By CHARLES MERIVALE, B.D. 
 Chaplain to the Speaker. 
 
 CABINET EDITION, 8 vols. post Svo. 48s. 
 
 LIBRARY EDITION, 7 vols. Svo. 5. 11s. 
 
 The Fall of the Roman Re- 
 public : a Short History of the Last Cen- 
 tury of the Commonwealth. By the same 
 Author. 12mo. 7s. Qd. 
 
 The Conversion of the Roman 
 
 Empire: the Boyle Lectures for the year 
 1864, delivered at the Chapel Royal, White- 
 hall. By the same. 2nd Edition. Svo. 8s. Gd. 
 
 Critical and Historical Essays 
 
 contributed to the Edinburgh Review. By 
 the Right Hon. Lord MACAULAY. 
 
 LIBRARY EDITION, 3 vols. Svo. 36s. 
 
 TRAVELLER'S EDITION, in 1 vol. 21s. 
 
 In POCKET VOLUMES, 3 vols. fcp. 2ls. 
 
 PEOPLE'S EDITION, 2 vols. crown Svo. 8s. 
 
 Historical and Philosophical 
 
 Essays. By NASSAU W. SENIOR. 2 vols. 
 post Svo. 16s. 
 
 History of the Rise and Influence 
 
 of the Spirit of Rationalism in Europe. B} r 
 W. E. H. LECKY, M.A. Second Edition. 
 2 vols. Svo. 25s. 
 
 The Biographical History of 
 
 Philosophy, from its Origin in Greece to 
 the Present Day. By GEORGE HENRY 
 LEWES. Revised and enlarged Edition. 
 Svo. 16s. 
 
 History of the Inductive Sciences. 
 
 By WILLIAM WHEWELL, D.D. F.R.S. Master 
 of Trin. Coll. Cantab. Third Edition. 3 vols. 
 crown Svo. 24s. 
 
 Egypt's Place in Universal His- 
 tory ; an Historical Investigation. By 
 C. "C. J. BUSSES, D.D. Translated by 
 C. H. COTTRELL, M.A. With many Illus- 
 trations. 4 vols. Svo. 5 8s. VOL. V. is 
 nearly ready, completing the work. 
 
 Maunder's Historical Treasury ; 
 
 comprising a General Introductory Outline 
 of Universal History, and a Series of Sepa- 
 rate Histories. Fcp. 10s. 
 
 Historical and Chronological En- 
 cyclopaedia, presenting in a brief and con- 
 venient form Chronological Notices of all 
 the Great Events of Universal History. By 
 B. B. WOODWARD, F.S.A. Librarian to the 
 Queen. [/ the press.
 
 NEW WORKS PUBLISHED BY LONGMANS AND CO. 
 
 History of the Christian Church, 
 
 from the Ascension of Christ to the Conver- 
 sion of Constantine. By E. BURTON, D.D. 
 late Regius Prof, of Divinity in the Univer- 
 sity of Oxford. Eighth Edition. Fcp. 3s. Gd. 
 
 Sketch of the History of the 
 
 Church of England to the Revolution of 
 1688. By the Eight Rev. T. V. SHORT, D.D. 
 Lord Bishop of St. Asaph. Sixth Edition. 
 Crown 8vo. 10s. Gd. 
 
 History of the Early Church, 
 
 from the First Preaching of the Gospel to 
 the Council of Nicaea, A.D. 325. By the 
 Author of ' Amy Herbert.' Fcp. 4s. Gd. 
 
 The English Reformation. By 
 
 F. C. MASSINGBERD, M.A. Chancellor of 
 Lincoln and Rector of South Ornisby. Third 
 Edition, revised and enlarged. Fcp. 6s. 
 
 History of Wesley an Methodism. 
 
 By GEORGE SMITH, F.A.S. Fourth Edition, 
 with numerous Portraits. 3 vo's. crown 
 8vo. 7s. each. 
 
 Villari's History of Savonarola 
 
 and of his Times, translated from the Italian 
 by LEONARD HORNER, F.R.S. with the co- 
 operation cf the Author. 2 vols. post 8vo. 
 with Medallion, 13s. 
 
 Lectures on the History of Modern 
 
 Music, delivered at the Royal Institution. 
 By JOHN HULLAH, Professor of Vocal Music 
 in King's College and in Queen's College, 
 London. FIRST COURSE, with Chronolo- 
 gical Tables, post 8vo. 6s. Gd. SECOND 
 COURSE, on the Transition Period, with 2G 
 Specimens, 8vo. 16*. 
 
 Biography and Memoirs. 
 
 Letters and Life of Francis 
 
 Bacon, including all his Occasional Works. 
 Collected and edited, with a Commentary, 
 by J. SPEDDING, Trin. Coll. Cantab. VOLS. 
 I. and II. 8vo. 24s. 
 
 Passages from the Life of a Phi- 
 losopher. By CHARLES BABBAGE, Esq. 
 M.A. F.R.S. &c. 8vo. 12*. 
 
 Life of Robert Stephenson, F.R.S. 
 
 By J. C. JEAFFRESON, Barristcr-at-Law, 
 and WILLIAM POLE, F.R.S. Mernb. Inst, 
 Civ. Eng. With 2 Portraits and 17 Illustra- 
 tions. 2 vols. 8vo. 32s. 
 
 Life of the Duke of Wellington. 
 
 By the Rev. G. R. GLEIG, M.A. Popular 
 Edition, carefully revised; with copious 
 Additions. Crown 8vo. with Portrait, 5s. 
 
 Brialmont and Gleig's Life of the Duke 
 of Wellington. 4 vols. 8vo. with Illustra- 
 tions, 2 14s. 
 
 Life of the Duke of "Wellington, partly 
 from the French of M. BRIALMONT, partly 
 from Original Documents. By the Rev. 
 G. II. GLEIG, M.A. 8vo.with Portrait, 15s. 
 
 History of my Religious Opinions' 
 
 By J. II. NEWMAN, D.D. Being the Sub- 
 stance of Apologia pro Vita Sua. Post 
 8vo. 6s. 
 
 Father Mathew : a Biography. 
 By JOHN FRANCIS MAGUIRE, M.P. Popular 
 Edition, with Portrait. Crown 8vo. 3s. Gd. 
 
 Home ; its Rulers and its Institutions. 
 By the same Author. New Edition in pre- 
 paration. 
 
 Memoirs, Miscellanies, and Let- 
 ters of the late Lucy Aikin ; including these 
 addressed to Dr. Channing from 1826 to 
 1842. Edited by P. II. LE BRETON. Post 
 8vo. 8s. Gd. 
 
 Life of Amelia Wilhelmina Sieve- 
 king, from the German. Edited, with the 
 Author's sanction, by CATHERINE WINK- 
 WORTH. Post 8vo. with Portrait, 12s. 
 
 Louis Spohr's Autobiography. 
 
 Translated from the German. 8vo. 14s. 
 
 Felix Mendelssohn's Letters from 
 
 Italy and Switzerland, and Letters from. 1833 
 to 1847, translated by Lady WALLACE. New 
 Edition, with Portrait. 2 vols. crown 8vo. 
 5. each. 
 
 Diaries of a Lady of Quality, 
 
 from 1797 to 1844. Edited, with Notes, by 
 A. HAYWARD, Q.C. Post 8vo. 10s. Gd. 
 
 Recollections of the late William 
 
 Wilberforce, M.P. for the County of York 
 during nearly 30 Years. By J. S. HARFORU, 
 F.R.S. Second Edition. "Post Svo. 7s. 
 
 Memoirs of Sir Henry Havelock, 
 K.C.B. By JOHN CLARK MARSHMAX. 
 Second Edition. Svo. with Portrait, 12s. Gd. 
 
 Thomas Moore's Memoirs, Jour- 
 nal, and Correspondence. Edited and 
 abridged from the First Edition by I...1 
 RUSSELL. Square crown 8vo. with 8 Por- 
 traits, 12s. Gd.
 
 NEW WORKS PUBLISHED BY LONGMANS AND CO. 
 
 Memoir of the Rev. Sydney Smith.. 
 
 By his Daughter, Lady HOLLAND. With 
 a Selection from his Letters, edited by Mrs. 
 AUSTIN. 2 vols. 8vo. 28s. 
 
 Vicissitudes of Families. By Sir 
 BERNARD BURKE, Ulster King of Arms. 
 FIRST, SECOND, and THIRD SERIES. 3 vols. 
 crown 8vo. 12s. Gd. each. 
 
 Essays in Ecclesiastical Biogra- 
 phy. By the Right Hon. Sir J. STEPHEN, 
 LL.D. Fourth Edition. Svo. 14s. 
 
 Biographical Sketches. By NASSAU 
 W. SENIOR. Post Svo. 10*. 6d. 
 
 Biographies of Distinguished Sci- 
 entific Men. By FRANCOIS ARAGO. Trans- 
 lated by Admiral W. H. SMYTH, F.R.S. the 
 Rev. B. POWELL, M.A. and R. GRANT, M.A 
 Svo. 18s. 
 
 Maunder's Biographical Trea- 
 sury : Memoirs, Sketches, and Brief Notices 
 of above 12,000 Eminent Persons of All 
 Ages and Nations. Fcp. 8vo. 10s. 
 
 Criticism, Philosophy, Polity, 
 
 Papinian : a Dialogue on State Affairs 
 between a Constitutional Lawyer and a 
 Country Gentleman about to enter Public 
 Life. By GEORGE ATKINSON', B.A. Oxon. 
 Serjeant-at-Law. Post Svo. os. 
 
 On Representative Government. 
 
 By JOHN STTART MILL. Uhird Edition 
 
 8vo. 9s. crown 8vo. 2s. 
 On Liberty. By the same Author. Third, 
 
 Edition. Post Svo. 7s. 6d. crown Svo. 
 
 It. id, 
 
 Principles of Political Economy. By the 
 same. Sixth Edition. 2 vols. Svo. 30s. or 
 in 1 vol. crown Svo. 5s. 
 
 A System of Logic, Ratiocinative and 
 Inductive. By the same. Fifth Edition. 
 2 vols. Svo. 25*. 
 
 Utilitarianism. By the same. *2d Edit. Svo. 5s. 
 
 Dissertations and Discussions. By the 
 same Author. 2 vols. Svo. 24s. 
 
 Examination of Sir "W. Hamilton's 
 Philosophy, and of the Principal Philoso- 
 phical Questions discussed in his Writings. 
 By the same Author. Svo. 14s. 
 
 Lord Bacon's Works, collected 
 and edited byR. L. ELLIS, M.A. J. SPEDDING, 
 M.A. and D. D. HEATH. VOLS. I. to V. 
 Philosophical Works, 5 vols. Svo. 4 6s. 
 VOLS. VI. and VII. Literary and Profes- 
 sional Works, 2 vols. 1 16s. 
 
 Bacon's Essays, with Annotations. 
 
 By R. WHATELY, D.D. late Archbishop of 
 Dublin. Sixth Edition. Svo. 10s. Gd. 
 
 Elements of Logic. By R, WHATELY, 
 D.D. late Archbishop of Dublin. Xinth 
 Edition. Svo. 10s. Gd. crown 8vo. 4s. Gd. 
 
 Elements of Rhetoric. By the same 
 Author. Seventh Edition. Svo. 10s. Gd. 
 crown Svo. 4s. Gd. 
 
 English. Synonymes. Edited by Arch- 
 bishop WHATELY. 5th Edition. Fcp. 3s. 
 
 Miscellaneous Remains from the 
 
 Common- place Book of RICHAKD WHATELY, 
 D.D. late Archbishop of Dublin. Edited by 
 Miss E. J. WHATELY. Post Svo. 7s. Gd. 
 
 Essays on the Administrations of 
 Great Britain from 1783 to 1830. By the 
 Right Hon. 1 Sir G. C. LEWIS, Bart. Edited 
 by the Right Hon. Sir E. HEAD, Bart. Svo. 
 with Portrait, 15s. 
 
 By the same Author. 
 
 A Dialogue on the Best Form 
 Government, 4s. Gd. 
 
 of 
 
 Essay on the Origin and Formation of 
 the Romance Languages, 7s. Gd. 
 
 Historical Survey of the Astronomy of 
 the Ancients, 15s. 
 
 Inquiry into the Credibility of the 
 Early Roman History, 2 vols. 30s. 
 
 On the Methods of Observation and 
 
 Reasoning in Politics, 2 vols. 28s. 
 
 Irish Disturbances and Irish Church 
 Question, 12*. 
 
 Remarks on the Use and Abuse of 
 some Political Terms, 9s. 
 
 On Foreign Jurisdiction and Extradi- 
 tion of Criminals, 2s. Gd. 
 
 The Fables of Babrius, Greek Text 
 with Latin Xotes, PART I. 5s. G<J. PART II. 
 3s. Gd. 
 
 Suggestions for the Application of the 
 Egyptological Method to Modern History, Is. 
 
 An Outline of the Necessary 
 
 Laws of Thought : a Treatise on Pure and 
 Applied Logic. By the Most Rev. W. 
 THOMSON, D. D. Archbishop of York. Crown 
 Svo. os Gd.
 
 NEW WORKS PUBLISHED BY" LONGMANS AND CO/ 
 
 The Elements of Logic. By THOMAS 
 
 SHEDDEN, M.A. of St. Peter's Coll. Cantab. 
 12mo. -4s. Gd. 
 
 Analysis of Mr. Mill's System of 
 
 Logic. By \V. STEBBCNG, M.A. Fellow of 
 Worcester College, Oxford. 12mo. 3s Gd. 
 
 The Election of Representatives, 
 
 Parliamentary and Municipal; a Treatise. 
 By THOMAS HARE, Barrister-at-Law. Third 
 Edition, with Additions. Crown bvo. Gs. 
 
 Speeches of the Right Hon. Lord 
 
 MACAULAY, corrected by Himself. 8vo. 12s. j 
 
 Lord Macaulay's Speeches on { 
 
 Parliamentary Reform in 1831 and 1832. 
 IGino. Is. 
 
 A Dictionary of the English 
 
 Language. By R. G. LATHAM, M.A. M.D. 
 F.R.S. Founded on the Dictionary of Dr. S. 
 JOHNSON, as edited by the Rev. H. J. TODD, 
 with numerous Emendations and Additions. 
 Publishing in 36 Parts, price 3s. Gd. each, 
 to form 2 vols. 4to. 
 
 Thesaurus of English Words and 
 
 Phrasi-s, classified and arranged so as to 
 facilitate the Expression of Ideas, and assist 
 in Literary Composition. By P. M. ROGET, 
 M.D. 14th Edition, crown 8vo. 10s. Gd. 
 
 Lectures on the Science of Lan- 
 guage, delivered at the Royal In>titution. 
 By MAX MULLEH, M.A. Taylorian Professor 
 in the University cf Oxford. FIRST SERIES, 
 Fourth Edition, 12s. SECOND SERIES, 18s. 
 
 The Debater ; a Scries of Complete 
 Debates, Outlines of Debates, and Questions 
 for Discussion. By F. ROWTON. Fcp. Gs. 
 
 A Course of English Reading, 
 
 adapted to every taste and capacity; or, 
 How and What to Read. By the Rev. J. 
 PYCKOFT, B.A. Fourth Edition, fcp. 5s. 
 
 Manual of English Literature, 
 
 Historical and Critical: with a Chapter on 
 English Metres. By THOMAS ARNOLD, B.A. 
 Post 8vo. 10s. Gd. 
 
 Southey's Doctor, complete in One 
 Volume Edited by the Rev. J.W. WAETF.R, 
 B.D. Square crown 8vo. 12*. Gd. 
 
 Historical and Critical Commen- 
 tary on the Old Testament; with a New 
 Translation. By M. M. KAMSCH, Ph. D. 
 VOL. I. Genesis, 8vo. 18s. or adapted for the 
 General Reader. 12*. VOL. II. Ex<xltis, 15*. 
 or adapted for the General Reader, 12s. 
 
 A Hebrew Grammar, with. Exercises. 
 By the same. PART 1. Outlines with Exer- 
 cises, 8vo. 12s. Gd. KEY, 5s. PART II. Ex- 
 ceptional Forms and Constructions, 12*. Gd. 
 
 A Latin-English Dictionary. By 
 
 J. T. WHITE, M.A. of Corpus Christi Col- 
 lege, and J. E. RIDDLE, M.A. of St. Edmund 
 Hall, Oxford. Imp. 8vo. pp. 2,128, 42*. 
 
 A New Latin-English Dictionary, 
 abridged from the larger work of White and 
 Riddle (as above), by J. T. WHITE, M.A. 
 Joint-Author. Medium 8vo. pp. 1,048, 18s. 
 
 A Diamond Latin-English Dictionary, 
 or Guide to the Meaning, Quality, and 
 Accentuation of Latin Classical Words. By 
 J. E. RIDDLE, M.A. 32mo. 2s. Gd, 
 
 An English- Greek Lexicon, con- 
 taining all the Greek Words used by Writers 
 of good authority. By C. D. YONGE, B.A. 
 Fifth Edition. 4to. 21*. 
 
 Mr. Yonge's New Lexicon, En- 
 glish and Greek, abridged from his largtr 
 work (as above). Square 12mo. 8s. 6d. 
 
 A Greek-English Lexicon. Com- 
 piled by H. G LIDDELL, D.D. Dean of 
 Christ Church, and R. SCOTT, D.D. Master 
 of Balliol. Fifth Edition, crown 4to. 31s. Gd. 
 
 A Lexicon, Greek and English, 
 abridged from LIDDELL and SCOTT'S Greek- 
 English Lexicon. Eleventh Edition, square 
 12mo. 7s. Gd. 
 
 A. Practical Dictionary of the 
 
 French and English Languages. By L. 
 CONTANSEAU. 8th Edition, post 8vo. 10s. Gd. 
 
 Contanseau's Pocket Dictionary, 
 French and English, abridged from the 
 above by the Author. New Edition. 18mo. 5s. 
 
 New Practical Dictionary of the 
 
 German Language; German- English, and 
 English-German. By the Rev. W. L. 
 BLACKLEY, M.A., and Dr. CARL MARTIX 
 FBIEDLANDEK. Post 8vo. [ In t/ie press.
 
 NEW WORKS PUBLISHED BY LONGMANS AND CO. 
 
 Miscellaneous Works and Popular Metaphysics. 
 
 Recreations of a Country Parson: 
 
 being a Selection of the Contributions of 
 A. K. H. B. to Fraser's Magazine. SECOND 
 SERIES. Crown 8vo. 3.5. Gd. 
 
 The Commonplace Philosopher in 
 Town and Country. By the same Author. 
 Crown 8vo. 3s. Gd. 
 
 Leisure Hours in Town ; Essays Consola- 
 tory, JSsthetical, Moral, Social, and Do- 
 mestic. By the same. Crown 8vo. 3s. Gd. 
 
 The Autumn Holidays of a Country 
 Parson : Essays contributed to Fraser's Mag- 
 azine and to Good Words, by the same. 
 Crown 8vo. 3s. Gd. 
 
 The Graver Thoughts of a Country 
 Parson, SECOND SERIES. By the same. 
 Crown 8vo. 3s. Gd. 
 
 Critical Essays of a Country Parson, 
 selected from Essays contributed to Prater's 
 Magazine, by the same. Post 8vo. 9s. 
 
 A Campaigner at Home. By SHIR- 
 LEY, Author of 'Thalatta' and 'Nugse 
 Critics.' Post 8vo. with Vignette, 7s. Gd, 
 
 Friends in Council: a Series of 
 Headings and Discourses thereon. 2 vols. 
 fcp. 9s. 
 
 Friends in Council, SECOND SERIES. 
 2 vols. post 8vo. 14s. 
 
 Essays written in the Intervals of 
 Business. Fcp. 2s. Gd. 
 
 Lord Macaulay's Miscellaneous 
 
 Writings. 
 
 LIBRARY EDITION, 2 vols. 8vo. Portrait, 21s. 
 PEOPLE'S EDITION, 1 vol. crown 8vo. 4s. Gd. 
 
 The Rev. Sydney Smith's Mis- 
 cellaneous Works ; including his Contribu- 
 tions to the Edinburgh Review. 
 
 LIBRARY EDITION, 3 vols. 8vo. 36*. 
 
 TRAVELLER'S EDITION, in 1 vol. 21*. 
 
 In POCKET VOLUMES, 3 vols. fcp. 21s. 
 
 PEOPLE'S EDITION, 2 vols. crown 8vo. 8s. 
 
 Elementary Sketches of Moral Philo- 
 sophy, delivered at the Royal Institution. 
 By the same Author. Fcp. 7s. 
 
 The "Wit and "Wisdom of the Rev. 
 SYDNEY SMITH : a Selection of the most 
 memorable Passages in his Writings and 
 Conversation, 16mo. 7s. Gd. 
 
 The History of the Supernatural 
 
 in All Ages and Nations, and in All 
 Churches, Christian and Pagan; demon- 
 strating a Universal Faith. By WILLIAM 
 HOWITT. 2 vols. post 8vo. 18s. 
 
 The Superstitions of Witchcraft. 
 By HOWARD WILLIAMS, M.A. St. John's 
 Coll. Camb. Post 8vo. 7s. Gd. 
 
 Chapters on Mental Physiology. 
 
 By Sir HENRY HOLLAND, Bart. M.D. F.R.S. 
 Second Edition. Post 8vo. 8s. Gd. 
 
 Essays selected from Contribu- 
 tions to the Edinburgh Review. By HENRY 
 EOGERS. Second Edition. 3 vols. fcp. 21s. 
 
 The Eclipse of Faith; or, a Visit to a 
 Religious Sceptic. By the same Author. 
 Tenth Edition. Fcp. 5s. 
 
 Defence of the Eclipse of Faith, by its 
 Author ; a Rejoinder to Dr. Newman's 
 Reply. Third Edition. Fcp. 3s. Gd. 
 
 Selections from the Correspondence 
 of R. E. H. Greyson. By the same Author. 
 Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. 
 
 Fulleriana, or the Wisdom and Wit of 
 THOMAS FULLER, with Essay on his Life and 
 Genius. By the same Author. 16mo. 2s. Gd. 
 
 The Secret of Hegel: being the 
 Hegelian Sj-stem in Origin, Principle, Form, 
 and Matter. By JAMES HUTCHISON STIR- 
 LING. 2 vols. 8vo. 28s. 
 
 An Introduction to Mental Phi- 
 losophy, on the Inductive Method. By 
 J. D. MORELL, M.A. LL.D. 8vo. 12s. 
 
 Elements of Psychology, containing the 
 Analysis of the Intellectual Powers. By 
 the same Author. Post 8vo. 7s. Gd. 
 
 Sight and Touch: an Attempt to 
 Disprove the Received (or Berkeleian) 
 Theory of Vision. By THOMAS K. ABBOTT, 
 M.A. Fellow and Tutor of Triu. Coll. Dublin. 
 8vo. with 21 Woodcuts, 5s. Gd. 
 
 The Senses and the Intellect. 
 
 By ALEXANDER BAIN, M.A. Prof, of Logic 
 
 in the Univ. of Aberdeen. Second Edition. 
 
 8vo. IDS. 
 The Emotions and the "Will, by the 
 
 same Author ; completing a Systematic 
 
 Exposition of the Human Mind. 8vo. los. 
 On the Study of Character, including 
 
 an Estimate of Phrenology. By the same 
 
 Author. 8vo. 9s.
 
 NEW WORKS PUBLISHED BY LONGMANS AKD CO. 
 
 Time and Space: a Metaphysical 
 
 Essay. By SHADWOKTII II. HODGSON. 
 8vo. pp. 588, price IGs. 
 
 Hours with the Mystics : a Contri- 
 bution to the History of Religious Opinion. 
 By ROBERT ALFRED VAUGHAN, B.A. Se- 
 cond Edition. 2 vols. crown 8vo. 12,*. 
 
 Psychological Inqxiiries. By the 
 late Sir BENJ. C. BRODIE, Bart. 2 vols. or 
 SERIES, fcp. 5s. each. 
 
 The Philosophy of Necessity; or, 
 Natural Law as applicable to Mental, Moral, 
 and Social Science. By CHARLES BRAY. 
 Second Edition. 8vo. 9s. 
 
 The Education of the Feelings and 
 Affections. By the same Author. Thir'd 
 Edition. 8vo. 3s. Gd, 
 
 Christianity and Common Sense. 
 
 By Sir WJLLOUGHBY JOKES, Bart. M.A. 
 Trin. Coll. Cantab. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 Astronomy, Meteorology, Popular Geography, <fyc. 
 
 Outlines of Astronomy. By Sir 
 
 J. F. W. HERSCHEL, Bart, M.A. Seventh 
 Edition, revised ; with Plates and Woodcuts. 
 Svo. 18s. 
 
 Arago's Popular Astronomy. 
 
 Translated by Admiral W. H. SMYTH, 
 F.R.S. and R. "GRANT, M.A. With 25 Plates 
 and 358 Woodcuts. 2 vols. Svo. 2 5s. 
 
 Arago's Meteorological Essays, with 
 Introduction by Baron HUMBOLDT. Trans- 
 lated tinder the superintendence of Major- 
 General E. SABTNE, R.A. Svo. 18s. 
 
 Saturn and its System. By EICH- 
 
 ARD A. PROCTOR, B.A. late Scholar of St. 
 John's Coll. Camb. and King's Coll. London. 
 Svo. -with 14 Plates, 14s. 
 
 The Weather-Book ; a Manual of 
 
 Practical Meteorology. By Rear-Admiral 
 ROBERT FITZ ROY, R.N. F.R.S. Third 
 Edition, with 16 Diagrams. Svo. 15s. 
 
 Saxby's Weather System, or Lunar 
 
 Influence on Weather. By S. M. SAXBY, 
 R..N. Instructor of Naval Engineers. Second 
 Edition. Post 8vo. 4s. 
 
 Dove's Law of Storms considered 
 in connexion with the ordinary Movements 
 of the Atmosphere. Translated by R. H. 
 SCOTT, M.A. T.C.D. Svo. 10s. 6d. 
 
 Celestial Objects for Common 
 
 Telescopes. By T. W. WEBB, M.A.;F.R.A.S. 
 With Map of the Moon, and Woodcuts. 
 16rno. 7s. 
 
 Physical Geography for Schools 
 
 and General Readers. By M. F. MAUBY, 
 LL.D. Fcp. with 2 Charts, 2s. Gd. 
 
 A Dictionary, Geographical, Sta- 
 tistical, and Historical, of the various Coun- 
 tries, Places, and principal Natural Objects 
 in the World. By J. R. M'CoLLOCH. With 
 6 Maps. 2 vols. Svo. 63s. 
 
 A General Dictionary of Geo- 
 graphy, Descriptive, Physical, Statistical, 
 and Historical ; forming a complete 
 Gazetteer of the World. By A. KEITH 
 JOHNSTON, F.R.S.E. Svo. 31s. Gd, 
 
 A Manual of Geography, Physical, 
 Industrial, and Political. By W. HUGHES, 
 F.R.G.S. Prof, of Geog. in King's Coll. and in 
 Queen's Coll. Lond. With 6 Maps. Fcp.7s.6rf. 
 
 The Geography of British History ; a 
 Geographical Description of the British 
 Islands at Successive Periods. By the same. 
 With 6 Maps. Fcp. 8s. Gd. 
 
 Abridged Text-Book of British Geo- 
 graphy. By the same. Fcp. Is. Gd. 
 
 The British Empire ; a Sketch of 
 the Geography, Growth, Natural and Poli- 
 tical Features of the United Kingdom, its 
 Colonies and Dependencies. By CAROLINE 
 BRAY. With 5 Maps. Fcp. 7s. 6d. 
 
 Colonisation and Colonies : a Series 
 
 of Lectures delivered before the University 
 of Oxford. By HERMAN MERIVALE, M.A. 
 Prof, of Polit. Econ. Svo. 18s. 
 
 Maunder's Treasury of Geogra- 
 phy, Physical, Historical, Descriptive, and 
 Political. Edited by W. HUGHES, F.R.G.S. 
 With 7 Maps and 16 Plates. Fcp. 10s.
 
 NEW WORKS PUBLISHED BY LONGMANS AND CO. 
 
 Natural History and Popular Science. 
 
 The Elements of Physics or 
 
 Natural Philosophy. By NEIL ARNOTT, 
 M.D. F.R.S. Physician Extraordinary to 
 the Queen. Sixth Edition. PAKT I. 8vo. 
 10*. Gd. 
 
 Heat Considered as a Mode of 
 Motion. By Professor JOHN TYSDALL, 
 F.R.S. LL.D. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 
 with Woodcuts, 12s. 6d. 
 
 Volcanos, the Character of their 
 Phenomena, their Share in the Structure 
 and Composition of the Surface of the Globe, 
 &c. By G. POUI.ETT SCROPK, M.P. F.R.S. 
 Second Edition. 8vo. with Illustrations, las. 
 
 A Treatise on Electricity, in 
 
 Theory and Practice. By A. DE LA RIVE, 
 Prof, in the Academy of Genera. Trans- 
 lated by C. V. WALKER, F.R.S. 3 vols. 
 8vo. with Woodcuts, 3 13s. 
 
 The Correlation of Physical 
 Forces. By W. R. GROVK, Q.C. V.P.R S. 
 
 Fourth, Edition. 8vo. 7s. Gd. 
 
 The Geological Magazine ; or, 
 
 Monthly Journal of Geology. Edited by 
 HENRY WOODWARD, F.G.S. F.Z.S. British 
 Museum ; assisted by Professor J. MORRIS, 
 F.G.S. and R. ETHEHIDGE, F.R.S.E. F.G S. 
 8vo. price Is. monthly. 
 
 A Guide to Geology. By J. PHILLIPS, 
 
 M.A. Prof, of Geol. in the Univ. of Oxford. 
 Fifth Edition ; with Plates and Diagrams. 
 Fcp. 4s. 
 
 A Glossary of Mineralogy. By 
 H. W. BRISTOW, F.G.S. of the Geological 
 Survey of Great Britain. With 486 Figures. 
 Crown 8vo. 12s. 
 
 Phillips's Elementary Introduc- 
 tion to Mineralogy, with extensive Altera- 
 tions and Additions, by H. J. BROOKE, 
 F.R.S. and W. H. MILLER, F.G.S. Post 
 8vo. with Woodcuts. 18*. 
 
 Van Der Hoeven's Handbook of 
 
 ZOOLOGY. Translated from the Secand 
 Dutch Edition by the Rev. W. CLARK, 
 M.D. F.Pv.S. 2 vols. 8vo. with 24 Plates of 
 Figures, 60s. 
 
 The Comparative Anatomy and 
 
 Physiology of the Vertebrate Animals. By 
 RICH A ui) OWKS, F.R.S. D.C.L. 2 vols. 
 8vo. with upwards of 1,200 Woodcuts. 
 
 [/ the press. 
 
 Homes without Hands : an Account 
 
 of the Habitations constructed by various 
 Animal?, classed according to their Princi- 
 ples of Construction. By Rev. J. G. WOOD, 
 M.A. F.L.S. Illustrations on Wood by G. 
 Pearson, from Drawings by F. W. Keyl 
 and E. A. Smith. la 20 Parts, Is. each. " 
 
 Manual of Corals and Sea Jellies. 
 
 By J. R. GREENE, B.A. Edited by the 
 Rev. J. A. GALBRAITH, M.A. and the" Rev. 
 S. HAUGHTOS, M.D. Fcp. with J9 Wood- 
 cuts, 5s. 
 
 Manual of Sponges and Animalcules ; 
 with a General Introduction on the Princi- 
 ples of Zoology. By the same Author and 
 Editors. Fcp. with 16 Woodcuts, 2s. 
 
 Manual of the Metalloids. By J. APJOHIT, 
 M.D. F.R.S. and the same Editors. Fcp. 
 with 38 Woodcuts, 7s. Gd. 
 
 The Sea and its Living Wonders. 
 
 63- Dr. G. HARTVVIG. Second (English) 
 Edition. 8vo. with many Illustrations, 18s. 
 
 The Tropical World. By the same 
 Author. With 8 Chromoxylographs and 
 172 Woodcuts. 8vo. 21s. 
 
 Sketches of the Natural History 
 
 of Ceylon. By Sir J. EJIICK.SON TENSEST, 
 K.C S. LL.D. With 82 Wood Engravings. 
 Post 8vo. 12s. Gd. 
 
 Ceylon. By the snme Author. 5th Edition ; 
 with Maps, &c. and 90 Wood Engravings. 
 2 vols. 8vo. 2 10s. 
 
 A Familiar History of Birds. 
 
 By E. STANLEY, D.D. F.R.S. late Lord 
 Bishop of Norwich. Seventh Edition, with 
 Woodcuts. Fcp. 3s. Gd. 
 
 Marvels and Mysteries of In- 
 stinct; or, Curiosities of Animal Life. By 
 G. GAUUATT. Third Edition. Fcp. 7s. 
 
 Home Walks and Holiday Ram- 
 bles. By the Rev. C. A. JOHNS, B.A. F.L.S. 
 Fcp. with 10 Illustrations, 6s.
 
 NEW WORKS ruBLisHED BY LONGMANS AND CO. 
 
 Kirby and Spenee's Introduction 
 
 to Entomology, or Elements of the Natural 
 History of Insects. Seventh Edition. Crown 
 8vo. 5s. 
 
 Maunder's Treasury of Natural 
 
 History, or Popular Dictionary of Zoology. 
 Revised and corrected by T. S. COBBOLD, 
 M.D. Fcp. with 900 Woodcuts, 10s. 
 
 The Treasury of Botany, on the 
 
 Pian of M tunder's Treasury. By J. LIND- 
 LEY, M.D. and T. MOORE, F.L.S. assisted 
 by other Practical Botanists. With 16 
 Plates, and many Woodcuts from designs 
 byW. H. Fitch. Fcp. [ In the press. 
 
 The Rose Amateur's Guide. By 
 
 THOMAS RIVERS. 8th Edition. Fcp. 4s. 
 
 The British Flora ; comprising the 
 Phajnogamous or Flowering Plants and the 
 Ferns. By Sir W. J. HOOKER, K.H. and 
 G. A. WALKER-ARNOTT, LL.D. 12mo. 
 with 12 Plates, 14s. or coloured, 21s. 
 
 Bryologia Britannica ; containing 
 
 the Mosses of Gi'eat Britain and Ireland, 
 arranged and described. By W. WILSOX. 
 8vo. with 61 Plates, 42s. or coloured, 4 4s. 
 
 The Indoor Gardener. By Miss 
 
 MALING. Fcp. with Frontispiece, os. 
 
 Loudon'sEncyclopgedia of Plants ; 
 
 comprising the Specific Character, Descrip- 
 tion. Culture, History, &c. of all the Plants 
 found in Great Britain. With upwards of 
 12,000 Woodcuts. Svo. 3 13s. Gd. 
 
 London's Encyclopaedia of Trees and 
 Shrubs; containing the Hardy Trees and 
 Shrubs of Great Britain scientifically and 
 popularly described. With 2,000 Woodcuts. 
 Svo. 50s. 
 
 Maiinder's Scientific and Lite- 
 rary Treasury ; a Popular Encyclopaedia of 
 Science, Literature, and Art. Fcp. 10s. 
 
 A Dictionary of Science, Litera- 
 ture, and Art. Fourth Edition. Edited by 
 W. T. BRAXDK, D.C.L. and GEORGE W. 
 Cox, M.A., assisted by gentlemen of emi- 
 neut Scientific and Literary Acquirements, 
 In 12 Parts, each containing 240 pages, 
 price 5s. forming 3 vols. medium Svo. price 
 21s. each. 
 
 Essays on Scientific and other 
 
 subjects, contributed to Reviews. By Sir H. 
 HOLLAND, Bart. M.D. Second Edition. 
 Svo. 14s. 
 
 Essays from the Edinburgh and 
 
 Quarterly Reviews ; with Addresses and 
 other Pieces. By Sir J. F. W. HERSCHEL, 
 Bart. M.A. Svo" 18s. 
 
 Chemistry, Medicine, Surgery, and the Allied Sciences. 
 
 A Dictionary of Chemistry and 
 
 the Allied Branches of other Sciences. By 
 HENRY WATTS, F.C.S. assisted by eminent 
 Contributors, y vols. medium Svo. in 
 course of publication in Parts. VOL. I. 
 3s 6d. VOL. II. 26s. and VOL. III. 31s. 6d. 
 are now ready. 
 
 Handbook of Chemical Analysis, 
 
 ailapted to the Unitary System of Notation : 
 By F. T. CONINGTON, M.A. F.C.S. Post 
 Svo. 7s. 6d. TABLES of QUALITATIVE 
 ANALYSIS adapted to the same, 2s. 6d. 
 
 A Handbook of Volumetrical 
 
 Analysis. By ROBERT H. SCOTT, M.A. 
 T.C.D. Post Svo. 4s. 6d. 
 
 Elements of Chemistry, Theore- 
 tical and Practical. Bv WILLIAM A. 
 MILLER, M.D. LL.D. F.R.S. F.G.S. Pro- 
 fessor of Chemistry, King's College, London. 
 3 vols. Svo. 2 13s. PART I. CHEMICAL 
 PHYSICS, Third Edition, 12. PART II. 
 INORGANIC CHEMISTRY, 21s. PART III. 
 ORGANIC CHEMISTRY, Second Edition, 20s. 
 
 A Manual of Chemistry, De- 
 scriptive and Theoretical. By WILLIAM; 
 ODLING, M.B. F.R.S. Lecturer on Che- 
 mistry at St. Bartholomew's Hospital. PART 
 I. 8vo. 9s. 
 
 A Course of Practical Chemistry, for the 
 use of Medical Students. By the same 
 Author. Second Edition, with 70 new 
 Woodcuts. Crown Svo. 7s. 6d. 
 
 The Diagnosis and Treatment of 
 
 the Diseases of Women; including the 
 Diagnosis of Pregnancy. By G.RAILY 
 HEWITT, M.D. Physician to the British 
 Lying-in Hospital. Svo. 16s. 
 
 Lectures on the Diseases of In- 
 fancy and Childhood. By CHARLES WEST, 
 M.D. &c. 5th Edition, revised and enlarged. 
 Svo. IGs. 
 
 Exposition of the Signs and 
 
 Symptoms of Pregnancy : with other Papers 
 on subjects connected with Midwifery. By 
 W. F. MONTGOMERY, M.A. M.D. M.R.I.A. 
 Svo. vith Illustrations, 25.
 
 10 
 
 NEW WORKS PUBLISHED BY LONGMANS AND CO. 
 
 A System of Surgery, Theoretical 
 
 and Practical, in Treatises by Various 
 Authors. Edited by T. HOLMES, M.A. 
 Cantab. Assistant-Surgeon to St. George's 
 Hospital. 4 vols. 8vo. 1 13s. 
 
 Vol. I. General Pathology, 21s. 
 
 Vol. II. Local Injuries : Gun-shot \Vounds, 
 Injuries of the Head, Back, Face, Neck, 
 Chest, Abdomen, Pelvis, of the Upper and 
 Lower Extremities, and Diseases of the 
 Eye. 21s. 
 
 Vol. III. Operative Surgery. Diseases 
 ef the Organs of Circulation, Locomotion, 
 &c. 21s. 
 
 Vol. IV. Diseases of the Organs of 
 Digestion, of the Genito-Urinary System, 
 and of the Breast, Thyroid Gland, and' Skin ; 
 with APPENDIX and GENERAL INDEX. 80s. 
 
 Lectures on the Principles and 
 
 Practice of Physic. By THOMAS WATSON, 
 M.D. Physician-Extraordinary to the 
 Queen. Fourth Edition. 2 vols. 8vo. 34s. 
 
 Lectures on Surgical Pathology. 
 
 By J. PAGET, F.R.S. Surgeon-Extraordinary 
 to the Queen. Edited by W. TURNER, M.B. 
 8vo. with 117 Woodcuts, 21s. 
 
 A Treatise on the Continued 
 Fevers of Great Britain. By C. MURCHISON, 
 M.D. Senior Physician to the London Fever 
 Hospital. 8vo. with coloured Plates, 18s. 
 
 Anatomy, Descriptive and Sur- 
 gical. By HENRY GRAY, F.R.S. With 
 410 Wood Engravings from Dissections. 
 Third Edition, by T. HOLMES, M.A. Cantab. 
 Royal 8vo. 28s. 
 
 The Cyclopaedia of Anatomy and 
 
 Physiology. Edited by the late R. B. TODD, 
 M.D. F.R.S. Assisted by nearly all the 
 most eminent cultivators of Physiological 
 Science of the present age. 5 vols. 8vo. 
 with 2,853 Woodcuts, 6 Gs. 
 
 Physiological Anatomy and Phy- 
 siology of Man. By the late R. B. TODD, 
 M.D. "F.R.S. and W. BOWMAN, F.R.S. of 
 King's College. With numerous Illustra- 
 tions. VOL. II. 8vo. 25s. 
 
 A Dictionary of Practical Medi- 
 cine. By J. COPLAND, M.D. F.R.S. 
 Abridged from the larger work by the 
 Author, assisted by J. C. COPLAND, M.E.C.S. 
 1 vol. 8vo. [In the press. 
 
 Dr. Copland's Dictionary of Practical 
 Medicine (the larger work). 3 vols. 8vo. 
 5 11s. 
 
 The Works of Sir B. C. Brodie, 
 
 Bart, collected and arranged by CHARLES 
 HAWKINS, F.R.C.S.E. 3 vols. 8vo. with 
 Medallion and Facsimile, 48s. 
 
 Autobiography of Sir B. C. Brodie, 
 Bart, printed from the Author's materials 
 left in MS. Fcp. 4s. Gd. 
 
 Medical Notes and Reflections. 
 
 By Sir H. HOLLAND, Bart. M.D. Third 
 Edition. 8vo. 18s. 
 
 A Manual of Materia Medica 
 
 and Therapeutics, abridged from Dr. 
 PEREIRA'S Elements by F. J. FARRE, M.D. 
 Cantab, assisted by R. BENTLEY, M.R.C.S. 
 and by E. WARINGTON, F.C.S. 1 vol. 
 8yo. \_In October. 
 
 Dr. Pereira's Elements of Materia 
 Medica and Therapeutics, Third Edition, by 
 A. S. TAYLOR, M.D. and G. 0. REES, M.D. 
 3 vols. 8vo. with Woodcuts, 3 15s. 
 
 Thomson's Conspectus of the 
 
 British Pharmacopoeia. Twenty-fourth 
 Edition, corrected and made conformable 
 throughout to the New Pharmacopoeia of 
 the General Council of Medical Education. 
 By E. LLOYD BIRKETT, M.D. 18mo. 5s. Gd. 
 
 Manual of the Domestic Practice 
 
 of Medicine. By W. B. KESTEVEN, 
 F.R.C.S.E. Second Edition, thoroughly 
 revised, with Additions. Fcp. 5s. 
 
 The Fine Arts, and Illustrated Editions. 
 
 The New Testament, illustrated with 
 Wood Engravings after the Early Masters, 
 chiefly of the Italian School. Crown 4to. 
 63s. cloth, gilt top; or 5 5s. elegantly 
 bound in morocco. 
 
 Lyra Germanica ; Hymns for the 
 
 Sundays and Chief Festivals of the Christian 
 Year. Translated by CATHERINE WINK- 
 WORTH; 12-5 Illustrations on Wood drawn 
 by J. LEIGHTON, F.S. A. Fcp. 4to. 21s.
 
 NEW WORKS n-BLisHED BY LONGMANS AND CO. 
 
 11 
 
 Cats' and Farlie's Moral Em- 
 blems ; with Aphorisms, Adages, and Pro- 
 verbs of all Nations : comprising 121 
 Illustrations on Wood by J. LEIGHTON, 
 F.S.A. with an appropriate Text by 
 R. PIGOT. Imperial Svo. 31s. 6d. 
 
 Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress : 
 
 with 126 Illustrations on Steel and Wood 
 by C. BENNETT ; and a Preface by the Rev. 
 C. KI.NGSLEY. Fcp. 4to. 21s. 
 
 Shakspeare's Sentiments and 
 
 Similes printed in Black and Gold and illu- 
 minated in the Missal style by HENRY NOEL 
 HUMPHREYS. In massive covers, containing 
 the Medallion and Cypher of Shakspeare. 
 Square post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 The History of Our Lord, as exem- 
 plified in Works of Art; with that of His 
 Types in the Old and New Testament. By 
 Mrs. JAMESON and Lady EASTLAKE. Being 
 the concluding Series of ' Sacred and 
 Legendary Art;' with 13 Etchings and 2S1 
 Woodcuts. 2 vols. square crown Svo. 42s. 
 
 In the same Series, by Mrs. JAMESON*. 
 Legends of the Saints and Martyrs. 
 Fourth Edition, with 19 Etchings and 187 
 Woodcuts. 2 vols. 31s. 6d. 
 
 Legends of the Monastic Orders. Third 
 Edition, with 11 Etchings and 88 Woodcuts. 
 1 vol. 21s. 
 
 Legends of the Madonna. Third Edition, 
 with 27 Etchings and 1G5 Woodcuts. 
 1 vol. 21s. 
 
 Arts, Manufactures, fyc. 
 
 Encyclopaedia of Architecture, 
 
 Historical, Theoretical, and Practical. By 
 JOSEPH GWILT. With more than 1,000 
 Woodcuts. 8vo. 42s. 
 
 Tuscan Sculptors, their Lives, 
 
 Works, and Times. With 45 Etchings and 
 28 Woodcuts from Original Drawings and 
 Photographs. By CHARLES C. PERKINS 
 2 vols. imp. Svo. 63s. 
 
 The Engineer's Handbook ; ex- 
 plaining the Principles which should guide 
 the young Engineer in the Construction of 
 Machinery. ByC. S.LOWNDES. Post Svo. 5s. 
 
 The Elements of Mechanism. 
 
 By T. M. GOODEVE, M.A. Prof, of Me- 
 chanics at the R M. Acad. Woolwich. 
 Second Edition, with 217 Woodcuts. Post 
 Svo. 6s. 6d. 
 
 Ure's Dictionary of Arts, Manu- 
 factures, and Mines. Re-written and en- 
 larged by ROBERT HUNT, F.R.S., assisted 
 by numerous gentlemen eminent in Science 
 and the Arts. With 2,000 Woodcuts. 3 vols. 
 Svo. 4. 
 
 Encyclopaedia of Civil Engineer- 
 ing, Historical, Theoretical, and Practical. 
 By E. CRESY, C.E. With above 3,000 
 Woodcuts. Svo. 42s. 
 
 Treatise on Mills and Millwork. 
 
 By W. FAIRBAIKN, C.E. F.R/S. With 18 
 Plates and 322 Woodcuts. 2 vols. Svo. 3~2s. 
 
 Useful Information for Engineers. By 
 the same Author. FIRST and SECOND 
 SERIES, with many Plates and Woodcuts. 
 2 vols. crown Svo. 10s. 6rf. each. 
 
 The Application of Cast and "Wrought 
 Iron to Building Purposes. By the same 
 Author. Third Edition, with 6 Plates and 
 118 Woodcuts. Svo. 16s. 
 
 The Practical Mechanic's Jour- 
 nal : An Illustrated Record of Mechanical 
 and Engineering Science, and Epitome of 
 Patent Inventions. 4to. price Is. monthly. 
 
 The Practical Draughtsman's 
 Book of Industrial Design. By W. Jonx- 
 sos, Assoc. lust. C.E. With many hundred 
 Illustrations. 4to. 28s. 6J. 
 
 The Patentee's Manual : a Treatise 
 
 on the Law and Practice of Letters^Patent 
 for the use of Patentees and Inventors. By 
 J. and J. H. JOHNSOX. Post Svo. 7s. Gd. 
 
 The Artisan Club's Treatise on 
 
 the Steam Engine, in its various Applica- 
 tions to Mines, Mills, Steam ; Navigation, 
 Railways, and Agriculture. By J. BoraNE, 
 C.E. Sixth Edition; with 37 Plates and 
 546 Woodcuts. 4to. 42s.
 
 12 
 
 'NEW WORKS PUBLISHED BY LONGMANS AND CO. 
 
 Catechism of the Steam Engine, 
 
 in its various Applications to Mines, Mills, 
 Steam Navigation, Railways, and Agricul- 
 ture. By J. BOURNE. C.E. With 1 99 Wood- 
 cuts. Fcp.9s. The INTRODUCTION: of Recent 
 Improvements' may be had separately, with 
 110 Woodcuts, price 3s. Gd. 
 
 Handbook of the Steam Engine, by the 
 same Author, forming a KEY to the Cate- 
 chism of the Steam Engine, with 67 Wood- 
 cuts. Fcp. 9s. 
 
 The Theory of War Illustrated 
 
 by numerous Examples from History. By 
 Lieut.-Col. P. L. MACDOUGALL. Third 
 Edition, with 10 Plans. Post 8vo. 10s. Gd. 
 
 Collieries and Colliers ; A Hand- 
 book of the Law and leading Cases relating 
 thereto. By J. C. FOWLER, Barrister-at- 
 Law, Stipendiar}' Magistrate. Fcp. 6s. 
 
 The Art of Perfumery ; the History 
 
 and Theory of Odours, and the Methods of 
 Extracting the Aromas of Plants. By 
 Dr. PIESSE, F.C.S. Third Edition, with 
 53 Woodcuts. Crown 8vo. 10s. 6d. 
 
 Chemical, Natural, and Physical Magic, 
 for Juveniles during the Holidays. By the 
 same Author. Third Edition, enlarged, 
 with 38 Woodcuts. Fcp. 6s. 
 
 The Laboratory of Chemical "Wonders : 
 A Scientific Melange for Young People. 
 By the same. Crown Svo. 5s. Gd. 
 
 Talpa ; or, the Chronicles of a Clay 
 Farm. By C. W. HOSKYNS, Esq. With 24 
 Woodcuts from Designs by G. CRUIK- 
 SHANK. 16mo. 5s. Gd. 
 
 H.R.H. the Prince Consort's 
 
 Farms ; an Agricultural Memoir. By JOHN 
 CHALMERS MORTON. Dedicated by per- 
 mission to Her Majesty the QUEEN. With 
 40 Wood Engravings. 4to. 52s. Gd. 
 
 London's Encyclopaedia of Agri- 
 culture : Comprising the Laying-out, Im- 
 provement, and Management of Landed 
 Property, and the Cultivation and Economy 
 of the Productions of Agriculture. With 
 1,100 Woodcuts. Svo. 31s. Gd. 
 
 London's Encyclopaedia of Gardening : 
 Comprising the Theory and Practice of 
 Horticulture, Floriculture, Arboriculture, 
 and Landscape Gardening. With 1,000 
 Woodcuts. Svo. 31s. Gd. 
 
 London's Encyclopaedia of Cottage, Farm, 
 and Villa Architecture and Furniture. With 
 more than 2,000 Woodcuts. Svo. 42s. 
 
 History of Windsor Great Park 
 
 and Windsor Forest. By WILLIAM MEX- 
 ZIES, Resident Deputy Surveyor. With 2 
 Maps and 20 Photographs. Imp. folio, 8 8s. 
 The Sanitary Management and Utili- 
 sation of Sewage: comprising Details of a 
 System applicable to Cottages, Dwelling- 
 Houses, Public Buildings, and Towns ; Sug- 
 gestions relating to the Arterial Drainage 
 of the Country, and the Water Supply of 
 Rivers. By the same Author. Imp. Svo. 
 with 9 Illustrations, 12s. Gd. 
 
 Bayldon's Art of Valuing Rents 
 
 and Tillages, and Claims of Tenants upon 
 Quitting Farms, both at Michaelmas and 
 Lady-Day. Eighth Edition, revised by 
 J. C. MORTON. Svo. 10s. Gd. 
 
 Religious and Moral Works. 
 
 An Exposition of the 39 Articles, 
 
 Historical and Doctrinal. By E. HAROLD 
 BROWNE, D.D. Lord Bishop of Ely. Sixth 
 Edition, Svo. 16s. 
 
 The Pentateuch and the Elohistic 
 Psalms, in Reply to Bishop Colenso. Bv 
 the same. Second Edition. Svo. 2s. 
 
 Examination Questions on Bishop 
 Browne's Exposition of the Articles. By 
 the Rev. J. GORLE, M.A. Fcp. 3s. 6d. 
 
 Five Lectures on the Character 
 
 of St. Paul ; being the Hulsean Lectures 
 for 1862. By the Rev. J. S. HOWSON, D.D. 
 Second Edition. Svo. 9s. 
 
 The Life and Epistles of St. 
 Paul. By W. J. CONYBKARE, M.A. late 
 Fellow of Trin. Coll. Cantab, and J. S. 
 HOWSON, D.D. Principal of Liverpool Coll. 
 
 LIBRARY EDITION, with all the Original 
 Illustrations, Maps, Landscapes on Steel, 
 Woodcuts, &c. 2 vols. 4to. 48*. 
 
 INTERMEDIATE EDITION, with a Selection 
 of Maps, Plates, and Woodcuts. 2 vols. 
 square crown Svo. 31s. Gd. 
 
 PEOPLE'S EDITION, revised and con- 
 densed, with 46 Illustrations and Maps. 
 2 vols. crown Svo. 12*
 
 '.NEW WORKS PUBLISHED BY LONGMANS AND CO. 
 
 13 
 
 The Voyage and Shipwreck of 
 
 St. Paul ; with Dissertations on the Ships 
 and Navigation of the Ancients. By JAMES 
 SMITH, F.R.S. Crown 8vo. Charts, 8s. Gd. 
 
 A Critical and Grammatical Com- 
 mentary on St. 1'aul's Epistles. By C. J. 
 ELUCOTT, D.D. Lord Bishop of Gloucester 
 and Bristol. 8vo. 
 
 Galatians, Third Edition, 8*. 6d. 
 
 Ephesians, Third Edition, 8s. 6d. 
 
 Pastoral Epistles, Third Edition, 10*. Gd. 
 
 Philippians, Colossians, and Philemon, 
 Third Edition, 10*. 6d. 
 
 Thessalonians, Second Edition, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Historical Lectures on the Lile of Our 
 Lord Jesus Christ: being the Hdlsean 
 Lectures for 1859. By the same Author. 
 Fourth Edition. 8vo. "lOs. Gd. 
 
 The Destiny of the Creature ; and other 
 Sermons preached before the University of 
 Cambridge. By the same. Post 8vo. 5*. 
 
 The Broad and the Narrow Way; Two 
 Sermons preached before the University of 
 Cambridge. By the same. Crown 8vo. 2s. 
 
 Rev. T. H. Home's Introduction 
 
 to the Critical Study nnd Knowledge of the 
 Holy Scriptures. Eleventh Edition, cor- 
 rected, and extended under careful Editorial 
 revision. With 4 Maps and 22 Woodcuts 
 and Facsimiles. 4 vols. 8vo. 3 13s. (J(/. 
 
 Rev. T. H. Home's Compendious In- 
 troduction to the Study of the Bible, being 
 an Analysis of the larger work by the same 
 Author. Re-edited by the Rev. JOHN 
 AYUE, M.A. With Maps, &c. Post 8vo. 9s. 
 
 The Treasury of Bible Know- 
 ledge, on the plan of Maunder's Treasuries. 
 By the Rev. JOHN AYRE, M.A. Fcp. 8vo. 
 with Maps and Illustrations. \^ln the press. 
 
 The Greek Testament ; with Notes, 
 
 Grammatical and Exegetic-al. By the Rev. 
 W. WEBSTER, M.A. and the Rev. W. F. 
 WILKINSON, M.A. 2 vols. 8vo. 2 4s. 
 
 VOL. I. the Gospels and Acts, 20s. 
 
 VOL. II. the Epistles and Apocalypse, 24s. 
 
 The Four Experiments in Church 
 
 and Stnte ; and the Conflicts of Churches. 
 By Lord ROBERT MONTAGU, M.P. 8vo. 12s. 
 
 Every-day Scripture Difficulties 
 
 explained and illustrated; Gospels of St. 
 Matthew and St. Mark. By J. E. PRESCOTT, 
 M.A. 8vo. 9s. 
 
 The Pentateuch and Book of 
 
 Joshua Critically Examined. By the Right 
 Rev. J. W. COLENSO, D.D. Lord Bishop of 
 Natal. People's Edition, in 1 vol. crowu 
 8vo. 6s. or in 5 Parts, Is. each. 
 
 The Pentateuch and Book of 
 
 Joshua Critically Examined. By Prof. A. 
 KUENEN, of Leyden. Translated from the 
 Dutch, and edited with Notes, by the Right 
 Rev. J. W. COLEXSO, D.D. Bishop of Natal. 
 8vo. 8s. Gd. 
 
 The Formation of Christendom. 
 PART I. By T. W. ALLOS. 8vo. 12s. 
 
 Christendom's Divisions ; a Philo- 
 sophical Sketch of the Divisions of the 
 Christian Family in East and West. By 
 EDMOND S. FFOULKES, formerly Fellow and 
 Tutor of Jesus Coll. Oxford. Post 8vo. 7s. Gd. 
 
 The Life of Christ, an Eclectic Gos- 
 pel, from the Old and New Testaments, 
 arranged on a New Principle, with Analytical 
 Tables, &c. By CHARLES DE LA PRY.MK, 
 ALA. Triii. Coll. Canib. Revised Edition. 
 8vo. 5s. 
 
 The Hidden Wisdom of Christ 
 
 and the Key of Knowledge; or, History of 
 the Apocrypha. By ERXEST DE BUJJSEN. 
 2 vols. 8vo. 28s. 
 
 Hippolytus and his Age ; or, the 
 
 Beginnings and Prospects of Christianity. 
 By Baron BUJJSEN, D.D. 2 vols. 8vo. 30s. 
 
 Outlines of the Philosophy of Uni- 
 versal History, applied to Language and 
 Religion : Containing an Account of the 
 Alphabetical Conferences. By the same 
 Author. 2 vols. 8vo. 33s. 
 
 Analecta Ante-Wicsena. By the; same 
 Author. 3 vols. 8vo. 42s. 
 
 Essays on Heligion and Litera- 
 ture. By various Writers. Edited by 
 H. E. MAX.VIXG, D.D. 8vo. 10s. Gd. 
 
 Essays and Reviews. By the Rev. 
 
 VV. TEMPLE, D.D. the Rev. R. WILLIAMS, 
 B.D. the Rev. B. POWELL, M.A. the Rev. 
 H. B. WILSON, B.D. C. W. GOODWIN, M.A. 
 the Rev. M. PATTISON, B.D. and the Rev. 
 B.Jo\VETT,M.A. 12th Edition. Fcp. 8vo. os. 
 
 Mosheim's Ecclesiastical History. 
 
 MCRUOCK and SOAMKS'S Translation and 
 Notes, re-edited by the Rev. W. STUBBS, 
 M. A. 3 vols. 8vo. 46s.
 
 14 
 
 NEW WOEKS PUBLISHED BY LOXGMANS AND CO. 
 
 Bishop Jeremy Taylor's Entire 
 
 Works: With Life by BISHOP HEBER. 
 Revised and corrected by the Rev. C. P. 
 EDEN, 10 vols. 5 5s. 
 
 Passing Thoughts on Religion. 
 
 By the Author of < Amy Herbert.' 8th Edi- 
 tion. Fcp. os. 
 
 Thoughts for the Holy "Week, for 
 Young Persons. By the same Author. 
 3d Edition. Fcp. Svo. 2s. 
 
 Wight Lessons from Scripture. By the 
 same Author. 2d Edition. 32mo. 3s. 
 
 Self-examination before Confirmation. 
 By the same Author. 32mo. Is. Gd. 
 
 Headings for a Month Preparatory to 
 Confirmation from Writers of the Early and 
 English Church. By the same. Fcp. is. 
 
 Headings for Every Day in Lent, com- 
 piled from the Writings of Bishop JEREM.Y 
 TAYLOR. By the same. Fcp. 5s. 
 
 Preparation for the Hoiy Communion ; 
 the Devotions chiefly from the works of 
 JEREMY TAYLOR. By the same. 32mo. 3s. 
 
 Morning Clouds. Second Edition. 
 Fcp. 5s. 
 
 Spring and Autumn. By the same Author. 
 Post Svo. 6s. 
 
 The Wife's Manual ; or, Prayers, 
 Thoughts, and Songs on Several Occasions 
 of a Matron's Life. By the Rev. W. CAL- 
 VERT, M.A. Crown Svo. 10. Gd. 
 
 Spiritual Songs for the Sundays 
 
 and Holidays throughout the Year. By 
 J. S. B. MONSELL, LL.D. Vicar of Egham. 
 Fourth Edition. Fcp. 4s. Gd. 
 
 The Beatitudes : Abasement before God : 
 Sorrow for Sin ; Meekness of Spirit ; Desire 
 for Holiness ; Gentleness ; Purity of Heart ; 
 the Peace-makers ; Sufferings for Christ. 
 By the same. 2d Edition, fcp. 3s. Gd. 
 
 Hymnologia Christiana ; or, Psalms 
 
 and Hymns selected and arranged in the 
 order of the Christian Seasons. Bj r B. H. 
 KENNEDY, D.D. Prebendary of Lichfield. 
 Crown Svo. 7s. Gd. 
 
 Lyra Domestica ; Christian Songs for 
 
 Domestic Edification. Translated from the 
 Psaltery and Harp of C. J. P. SPITTA, and 
 from other sources, by RICHARD MASSIE. 
 FIRST and SECOND SERIES, fcp. 4s. Gd. each. 
 
 Lyra Sacra ; Hyrnns, Ancient and 
 Modern, Odes, and Fragments of Sacred 
 Poetry. Edited by the Rev B. W. SAVILE, 
 M,A. Fcp. 5s. 
 
 Lyra Germanica, translated from the 
 German by Miss C. WINKWORTH. FIRST 
 SERIES, Hymns for the Sundays and Chief 
 Festivals; SECOND SERIES, the Christian 
 Life. Fcp. os. each SERIES. 
 
 Hymns from Lyra Germanica, 18nio. Is. 
 
 Historical Notes to the ' Lyra 
 
 Germanica : ' containing brief Memoirs of 
 the Authors of the Hymns, and Notices of 
 Remarkable Occasions on which some of 
 them have been used ; with Notices of ether 
 German Hymn Writers. By THEODORE 
 KIBBLER. Fcp. 7s. Gd. 
 
 Lyra Eucharistica ; Hymns and 
 
 Verses on the Holy Communion, Ancient 
 and Modern ; with other Poems. Edited by 
 the Rev. ORBY SHIPLEY, M.A. Second 
 Edition. Fcp. 7s. Gd. 
 
 Lyra Messianica ; Hymns and Verses on 
 the Life of Christ, Ancient and Modern ; 
 with other Poems. By the same Editor. 
 Fcp. 7s. 6d. 
 
 Lyra Mystica ; Hymns and Verses on Sacred 
 Subjects, Ancient and Modern. By the 
 same Editor. Fcp. 7s. Cd. 
 
 The Chorale Book for England ; 
 
 a complete Hymn-Book in accordance witli 
 the Services and Festivals of the Church of 
 England : the Hymns translated by Miss C. 
 WINKWORTH ; the Tunes arranged by Prof. 
 W. S. BENNETT and OTTO GOLDSCHMIDT. 
 Fcp. 4to. 12s. Gd. 
 Congregational Edition. Fcp. 2s. 
 
 The Catholic Doctrine of the 
 
 Atonement ; an Historical Inquiry into its 
 Development in the Church : with an Intro- 
 duction on the Principle of Theological 
 Developments. By H. X. OXENIIAM, M.A. 
 formerly Scholar of Balliol College, Oxford. 
 Svo. 8s. Gd. 
 
 From Sunday to Sunday; an attempt 
 to consider familiarly the Weekday Life 
 and Labours of a Country Clergyman. By 
 R. GEE, M.A. Vicar of Abbott's Langley 
 and Rural Dean. Fcp. 5s. 
 
 First Sundays at Church; or, 
 
 Familiar Conversations on the Morning and 
 Evening Services of the Church of England. 
 By J. E. RIDDLE, M.A. Fcp. 2s. Gd. 
 
 The Judgment of Conscience, 
 
 and other Sermons. By RICHARD WHATELY, 
 D.D. late Archbishop of Dublin. Crown 
 Svo. 4s. Gd. 
 
 Paley's Moral Philosophy, with 
 Annotations. By RICHARD WHATELY, D.D. 
 late Archbishop of Dublin. Svo. 7s.
 
 NEW WORKS PUBLISHED BY LONGMANS AND CO. 
 
 Travels., Voyages, $c. 
 
 Outline Sketches of the High 
 Alps of Dauphine. By T. G. BOSNEY, M.A. 
 F.G.S. M.A.C. Fellow of St. John's Coll. 
 Camb. With 13 Plates and a Coloured Map. 
 Post 4to. IGs. 
 
 Ice Caves of France and Switzer- 
 land ; a narrative of Subterranean Explora- 
 tion. By the Rev. G. F. BROWNE, M.A. 
 Fellow and Assistant-Tutor of St. Catherine's 
 Coll. Cambridge, M.A.C. With 11 Woodcuts. 
 Square crown 8vo. 12s. Gd. 
 
 Village Life in Switzerland. By 
 
 SOPHIA D. DELMARD. Post 8vo. 9s. Gd. 
 
 I 
 How we Spent the Summer; or, j 
 
 a Voyage en Zigzag in Switzerland and ! 
 
 Tyrol with some Members of the ALPINE j 
 
 CLUB. From the Sketch-Book of one of the '. 
 
 Party. In oblong 4to. with about 300 Illus- i 
 trations, 10s. Gd. 
 
 Map of the Chain of Mont Blanc, '. 
 
 from an actual Survey in 1863 18G4. By 
 
 A. ADAMS-REILLY, F.R.G.S. M.A.C. Pub- ! 
 lished under the Authority of the Alpine 
 
 Club. In Chromolitliography on extra stout ; 
 
 drawing-paper 28in. x. 17 in. price 10s. or ' 
 
 mounted on canvas in a folding case, 12s. Gd. | 
 
 The Hunting Grounds of the Old 
 
 World ; FIRST SERIES, Asia. By H. A. L. : 
 
 the Old Shekarry. Third Edition, with 7 . 
 Illustrations. 8vo. 18s. 
 
 Camp and Cantonment ; a Journal i 
 
 of Life in India in 1857 1859, with some 
 Account of the Way thither. By Mrs. LEO- j 
 FOLD PAGET. To which is added a Short 
 Narrative of the Pursuit of the Rebels in 
 Central India by Major PAGET, R.H.A. 
 Post 8vo. 10s. Gd. 
 
 Explorations in South - west 
 
 Africa, from Walvisch Bay to Lake Ngami 
 and the Victoria Falls. By THOMAS BAIZES, 
 F.R.G.S. 8vo. with Maps and Illustra- 
 tions, 21s. 
 
 South American Sketches ; or, a 
 
 Visit to Rio Janeiro, the Organ Mountains, 
 La Plata, and the Parana, By THOMAS W. 
 HINCHLIFF, M.A. F.R.G.S. Post 8vo. with 
 Illustrations, 12s. Gd. 
 
 Vancouver Island and British 
 
 Columbia ; their History, Resources, and 
 Prospects. By MATTHETV MACFIE, F.R.G.S. 
 With Maps and Illustrations. 8vo. 18s, 
 
 History of Discovery in our 
 
 Australasian Colonies, Australia, Tasmania, 
 and New Zealand, from the Earliest Date to 
 the Present Day. By WILLIAM HOWITT. 
 With 3 Maps of the Recent Explorations 
 from Official Sources. 2 vols. 8vo. 28s. 
 
 The Capital of the Tycoon; a 
 
 Narrative of a 3 Years' Residence in Japan. 
 By Sir RUTHERFORD ALCOCK, K.C.B. 
 2 vols. 8vo. with numerous Illustrations, 42s. 
 
 Last Winter in Rome. By C. E. 
 
 WELD. With Portrait and Engravings on 
 Wood. Post 8vo. 14. 
 
 Autumn Rambles in North 
 
 Africa. By JOHN ORMSBY, of the Middle 
 Temple. With 16 Illustrations. Post 8vo. 
 8s. Gd. 
 
 The Dolomite Mountains. Excur- 
 sions through Tyrol, Carinthia, Carniola, and 
 Friuli in 1861, 1862, and 1863. By J. 
 GILBERT and G. C. CHURCHILL, F.R.G.S. 
 With numerous Illustrations. Square crown 
 8vo. 21*. 
 
 A Summer Tour in the Grisons 
 
 and Italian Valleys of the Bernina. By 
 Mrs. HENRY FRESHFIELD. With 2 Coloured 
 Maps and 4 Views. Post 8vo. 10s. Gd. 
 
 Alpine Byways ; or, Light Leaves gathered 
 in 1859 and 1860. By the same Authoress. 
 Post 8vo. with Illustrations, 10s. Gd. 
 
 A Lady's Tour Round Monte Rosa; 
 including Visits to the Italian Vallej-s. 
 With Map and Illustrations. Post 8vo. 14s. 
 
 Guide to the Pyrenees, for the use 
 of Mountaineers. By CHARLES PACKE. 
 With Maps, &c. and Appendix. Fcp. 6s. 
 
 The Alpine Guide. By JOHN BALL, 
 
 M.R.I.A. late President of the Alpine Club. 
 
 Post 8vo. with Maps and other Illustrations. 
 i 
 
 Guide to tlie Western Alps, including 
 Mont Blanc, Monte Rosa, Zermatt, &c. 
 7s. Gd. 
 
 Guide to the Oberland and all Switzer- 
 land, excepting the Neighbourhood of 
 Monte Rosa and the Great St. Bernard; 
 with Lombardy and the adjoining portion 
 of Tvrol. 7s. Gd.
 
 NEW WORKS PUBLISHED BY LONGMANS AND CO. 
 
 Christopher Columbus ; his Life, 
 
 Voyages, and Discoveries. Revised Edition, 
 with 4 Woodcuts. 18mo. 2s. Gd. 
 
 Captain. James Cook ; his Life, 
 
 Voyages, and Discoveries. Revised Edition, 
 with numerous Woodcuts. 18mo. 2s. Gd. 
 
 ^Narratives of Shipwrecks of the 
 
 Royal Navy between 1793 and 1857, com- 
 piled from Official Documents in the Ad- 
 miralty by W. O. S. GILLY ; with a Preface 
 by W.'S. "GILLY, D.D. 3rd Edition, fcp. 5*. 
 
 A Week at the Land's End. 
 
 By J. T. BLIGHT ; assisted by E. H. ROOD, 
 R. Q. COUCH, and J. RALFS. With Map 
 and 96 Woodcuts. Fcp. Gs. Gd. 
 
 Visits to Remarkable Places : 
 
 Old Halls, Battle-Fields, and Scenes illus- 
 trative of Striking Passages in English 
 History and Poetry. By WILLIAM HOWITT. 
 2 vols. square crown 8vo. with Wood Eu- 
 gravings, 25s. 
 
 The Rural Life of England. 
 
 By the same Author. With Woodcuts by 
 Bewick and Williams. Medium 8vo. 12s. Gd. 
 
 Works of Fiction. 
 
 Late Laurels : a Tale. Bj the Author 
 of ' Wheat and Tares.' 2 vols. post 8vo. 15s. 
 
 A First Friendship. [Reprinted from 
 
 Eraser's Magazine.] Crowii 8vo. 7s. Gd. 
 
 Atherstone Priory. By L. N. COMTN. 
 2 vols. post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 Ellice : a Tale. By the same. Post 8vo. 9*. 6J. 
 
 Stories and Tales by the Author 
 
 of ' Amy Herbert,' uniform Edition, each 
 Tale or Story complete in a single volume. 
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON, 
 3s. Gd. 
 
 MARGARET PERCI- 
 VAL, 5s. 
 
 LANETON PARSON- 
 AGE, 4s. Gd. 
 
 URSULA, 4s. Gd. 
 
 AMY HERBERT, 2s. Gd. 
 GERTRUDE, 2s. Gd. 
 EARL'S DAUGHTER, 
 
 2s. Gd. 
 EXPERIENCE OF LIFE, 
 
 2s. 6<f. 
 
 CLEVE HALL, 3s. Gd. 
 IVORS, 3s. Gd. 
 
 A Glimpse of the "World. By the Author 
 of ' Amy Herbert.' Fcp. 7s. 6d. 
 
 Essays on Fiction, reprinted chiefly 
 from Reviews, with Additions. By NASSAU 
 W. SENIOR. Post 8vo. 10s. Gd. 
 
 Elihu Jan's Story; or, the Private 
 Life of an Eastern Queen. By WILLIAM 
 KNIGHTON, LL.D. Assistant-Commissioner 
 in Oudb. Post 8vo. Is. Gd. 
 
 The Six Sisters of the Valleys: 
 
 an Historical Romance. By W. BRAMLEY- 
 MOORE, M.A. Incumbent of Gerrard's Cross, 
 Bucks. Third Edition, with 14 Illustrations. 
 Crown 8vo. 5s. 
 
 The Gladiators : a Tale of Rome and 
 Judaea. By G. J. WHVTE MELVILLE. 
 Crown 8vo. 5s. 
 
 Digby Grand, an Autobiography. By the 
 same Author. 1 vol. 5s. 
 
 Kate Coventry, an Autobiography. By the 
 same. 1 vol. 5s. 
 
 General Bounce, or the Lady and the Lo- 
 custs. By the same. 1 vol. 5s. 
 
 Holmby House, a T.ile of Old Northampton- 
 shire. 1 vol. 5s. 
 
 Good for Nothing, or All Down Hill. By 
 the same. 1 vol. Gs. 
 
 The Queen's Maries, a Romance of Holy- 
 rood. 1 vol. 6s. 
 
 The Interpreter, a Tale of the War. By 
 the same. 1 vol. 5*. 
 
 Tales from Greek Mythology. 
 By GEORGE W. Cox, M.A. late Scholar 
 of Trin. Coll. Oxon. Second Edition. Square 
 16mo. 3s. Gd. 
 
 Tales of the Gods and Heroes. By the 
 same Author. Second Edition. Fcp. 5s. 
 
 Tales of Thebes and Argos. By the same 
 Author. Fcp. 4s. Gd. 
 
 The Warden : a Novel. By ANTHOKT 
 TKOLLOPE, Crown 8vo. 3s. Gd. 
 
 Barchester Towers : a Sequel to 'The 
 Warden.' By the same Author. Crown 
 8vo. 5*.
 
 NEW WORKS PUBLISHED BY LONGMANS AND CO. 
 
 17 
 
 Poetry and the Drama. 
 
 Select Works of the British Poets ; 
 
 with Biographical and Critical Prefaces by 
 Dr. AIKIN: with Supplement, of more 
 recent Selections, by LUCY AIKIN. Medium 
 8vo. 18*. 
 
 Goethe's Second Faust. Translated 
 
 by Jons AN>TER, LL.D. M.R.I.A. Regius 
 Professor of Civil Law in the University of 
 Dublin. Post 8vo. 15s. 
 
 Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered, 
 
 translated into English Verse by Sir J. 
 KINGSTON JAMES, Kt. M.A. 2 vols. fcp. 
 with Facsimile, 14*. 
 
 Poetical Works of John Edmund 
 
 Reade ; with final Revision and Additions. 
 3 vols. fcp. 18s. or each vol. separately, 6s. 
 
 Moore's Poetical Works, Cheapest 
 
 Editions complete in 1 vol. including the 
 Autobiographical Prefaces and Author's last 
 Notes, which are still copyright. Crown 
 8vo. ruby type, with Portrait, 7s. 6d. or 
 People's Edition, in larger type, 12s. 6d. 
 
 Moore's Poetical "Works, as above, Library 
 Edition, medium 8vo. with Portrait and 
 Vignette, 14s. or in 10 vols. fcp. 3s. 6d. each 
 
 Tenniel's Edition of Moore's 
 
 Lalla Rookh, with 68 Wood Engravings 
 from Original Drawings and other Illustra- 
 tions. Fcp. 4to. 21s. 
 
 Moore's Lalla Rookh.. 32mo. Plate, Is. 
 16mo. Vignette, 2s. G<7. 
 
 Maclise's Edition of Moore's Irish 
 
 Melodies, with 161 Steel Plates from Original 
 Drawings. Super-royal 8vo. 31s. 6d. 
 
 Moore's Irish. Melodies, 32rno. Portrait, 
 Is. 16mo. Vignette, 2s. (id. 
 
 Southey's Poetical Works, with 
 
 tha Author's last Corrections and copyright 
 Additions. Library Edition, in 1 vol. 
 medium 8vo. with Portrait and Vunette, 
 14s. or in 10 vols. fcp. 3s. Gd. each. 
 
 Lays of Ancient Rome ; with Icry 
 
 and the Armada. By the Right Hon. LORD 
 MACAULAY. 16mo. 4s. Gd. 
 
 Lord Macaxilay's Lays of 1. ncient 
 Rome. With 90 Illustrations on Wood, 
 Original and from the Antique, from 
 Drawings by G. SCIIARF. Fcp. 4to. 21s. 
 
 Poems. By JEAN INGELOW. Ninth Edi- 
 tion. Fcp. 8vo. 5s. 
 
 Poetical Works of Letitia Eliza- 
 beth Landon (L.E.L.) 2 vols. 16mo. 10s. 
 
 Playtime with the Poets : a Selec- 
 tion of the best English Poetry for the use 
 of Children. 63' a LADY. Crown 8vo. 5*. 
 
 Bowdler's Family Shakspeare, 
 
 cheaper Genuine Edition, complete in 1 vol. 
 large type, with 36 Woodcut Illustrations, 
 price 14*. or, with the same ILLUSTRATIONS, 
 in 6 pocket vols. 3s. Gd. each. 
 
 Arundines Cami, sive Musarum Can- 
 tabrigiensium Lusus Canori. Collegit atque 
 edidit H. DRUKY. M.A. Editio Sexta, cu- 
 ravit H. J. HODGSON, M.A. Crown 8vo. 
 7*. Gd. 
 
 Rural Sports, (Jr. 
 
 Encyclopaedia of Rural Sports ; 
 
 a Complete Account, Historical, Practical, 
 and Descriptive, of Hunting, Shooting, 
 Fishing, Racing, &c. By D. P. ELAINE. 
 With above GOO Woodcuts" (20 from Designs 
 by JOHN LEECH). 8vo. 42s. 
 
 Notes on Rifle Shooting. By Cap- 
 tain H BATON, Adjutant of the Third Man- 
 chester Rifle Volunteer Corps. Fcp. 2s. Gd. 
 
 Col. Hawker's Instructions to 
 
 Young Sportsmen in all that relates to Guns 
 and Shooting. Revised by the Author's Sox. 
 Square crown Svo. with Illustrations, 18s. 
 
 The Dead Shot,or Sportsman's Complete 
 Guide ; a Treatise on the Use of the Gun, 
 Dog-breaking, Pigeon-shooting, &c. Bj 
 MAKKSMAX. Fcp. Svo. with Plates, 5s. 

 
 a 
 
 NEW WORKS PUBLISHED BY LONGMANS AND CO. 
 
 The Fly - Fisher's Entomology. 
 
 Ry ALFRED RONALDS. With coloured 
 Representations of the Natural and Artifi- 
 cial Insect 6th Edition ; with 20 coloured 
 Plates. 8vo. 14*. 
 
 Hand-book of Angling : Teaching 
 Fly-fishing, Trolling, Bottom- fishing, Sal- 
 mon-fishing ; with the Natural History of 
 River Fish, and the best modes of Catching 
 them. By EPHEMERA. Fcp. Woodcuts, 5s. 
 
 The Cricket Field ; or, the History 
 and the Science of the Game of Cricket. By 
 JAME^ PYCROFT, B.A. Trin. Coll. Oxon. 
 4th Edition, Fcp. 5s. 
 
 Tli'e Cricket Tutor ; a Treatise exclusively 
 Practical. By the same. 18mo. Is. 
 
 Cricketana. By the same Author. With 7 
 Portraits of Cricketers. Fcp. os. 
 
 The Horse : with a Treatise on Draught. 
 By WILLIAM YOUATT. New Edition, re- 
 vised and enlarged. 8vo. with numerous 
 Woodcuts, 10s. Gd. 
 
 The Dog. By the same Author. 8vo. with 
 numerous Woodcuts, 6*. 
 
 The Horse's Foot, and how to keep 
 
 it Sound. By W. MILES, Esq. 9th Edition, 
 with Illustrations. Imp. 8vo. 12s. 6<f. 
 
 A Plain Treatise on Horse-shoeing. By 
 the same Author. Post 8vo. with Illustra- 
 tions, 2s. Gd. 
 
 Stables and Stable Fittings. By the same. 
 Imp. 8vo. with 13 Plates, 15s. 
 
 Remarks on Horses' Teeth, addressed to 
 Purchasers. By the same. Post 8vo. Is. Gd. 
 
 On Drill and Manoeuvres of 
 
 Cavalry, combined with Horse Artilleiy. 
 By Major-Gen. MICHAEL W. SMITH, C.B. 
 Commanding the Poonah Division of the 
 Bombay Army. 8vo. 12s. Gd. 
 
 The Dog in Health and Disease. 
 
 By STONEIIENGE. With 70 Wood En- 
 gravings. Square crown 8vo. 15s. 
 
 The Greyhound in 1864. By the same 
 Author. With 24 Portraits of Greyhounds. 
 Square crown 8vo. 21s. 
 
 The Ox, his Diseases and their Treat- 
 ment ; with an Essay on Parturition in the 
 Cow. By J. R. DOBSON, M.R.C.Y.S. Crown 
 8vo. with Illustrations, 7s. Gd. 
 
 Commerce, Navigation, and Mercantile Affairs. 
 
 The Law of Nations Considered 
 
 as Independent Political Communities. By 
 TRAVERS Twiss, D.C.L. Regius Professor 
 of Civil Law in the University of Oxford. 
 2 vols. 8vo. 30s. or separately, PART I. Peace, 
 12s. PART II. War, 18s. 
 
 A Nautical Dictionary, denning 
 
 the Technical Language relative to the 
 Building and Equipment of Sailing Vessels 
 and Steamers, &c. By ARTHUR YOUNG. 
 Second Edition ; with Plates and 150 Wood- 
 cuts. 8vo. 18s, 
 
 A Dictionary, Practical, Theo- 
 retical, and Historical, of Commerce and 
 Commercial Navigation. By J. R. M'CuL- 
 LOCH. Svo. with Maps and Plans, 50s. 
 
 The Study of Steam and the 
 
 Marine Engine, for Young Sea Officers. By 
 S. M. SAXBT, R.N. Post 8vo. with 87 
 Diagrams, 5s. Gd. 
 
 A Manual for Naval Cadets. By 
 
 J. M'NEIL BOYD, late Captain R.N. Third 
 Edition ; with 240 Woodcuts, and 11 coloured 
 Plates. Post Svo. 12s. 6d. 
 
 Works of Utility and General Information. 
 
 Modern Cookery for Private 
 
 Families, reduced to a System of Easy 
 Practice in a Series of carefully-tested 
 Receipts. By ELIZA ACTON. Newly re- 
 vised and enlarged ; with 8 Plates, Figures, 
 and 150 Woodcuts. Fcp. 7s. Gd. 
 
 The Handbook of Dining ; or, Cor- 
 pulency and Leanness scientifically con- 
 sidered. By BRILLAT-SAVARIN, Author of 
 'Physiologic da Gofit.' Translated by 
 L. F. SIMPSON. Revised Edition, with 
 Additions. Fcp. 8s. Gd.
 
 NEW WORKS PUKLISHLD BY LONGMANS AXD CO. 
 
 On Food and its Digestion ; an 
 Introduction to Dietetics. By W. BRIXTOX, 
 M.D. Physician to St. Thomas's Hospital, 
 &c. With 48 Woodcuts. Post 8vo. 12s. 
 
 Wine, the Vine, and the Cellar. 
 
 By THOMAS G. SHAW. Second Edition, 
 revised and enlarged, with Frontispiece and 
 31 Illustrations on Wood. 8vo. 16s. 
 
 A Practical Treatise on Brewing ; 
 
 with Formulas for Public Brewers, and In- 
 structions for Private Families. By W. 
 BLACK. 8vo. 10s. 6rf. 
 
 Short Whist. By MAJOR A. The 
 Sixteenth Edition, revised, with an Essay 
 on the Theory of the Modern Scientific 
 Game by PROF. P. Fcp. 3s. 6d. 
 
 Whist, What to Lead. 
 
 Second Edition. 32mo. Is. 
 
 By CAM. 
 
 Hints on Etiquette and the 
 
 Usages of Society ; with a Glance at Bad 
 Habits. Revised, with Additions, by a LADY 
 of BASK. Fcp. 2s. 6<f. 
 
 The Cabinet Lawyer ; a Popular 
 
 Digest of the Laws of England, Civil and 
 Criminal. 20th Edition, extended by the 
 Author ; including the Acts of the Sessions 
 1863 and 1864. Fcp. 10s. 6d. 
 
 The Philosophy of Health ; or, an 
 
 Exposition of the Physiological and Sanitary 
 Conditions conducive to Human Longevity 
 and Happiness. By So urn WOOD SMITH, 
 M.D. Eleventh Edition, revised and en- 
 larged; with 113 Woodcuts. Svo. 15s. 
 
 Hints to Mothers on the Manage- 
 ment of their Health during the Period of 
 Pregnancy and in the Lying-in Room. By 
 T. BULL, M.D. Fcp. 5s. 
 
 The Maternal Management of Children 
 in Health and Disease. By the same 
 Author. Fcp. 5s. 
 
 Notes on Hospitals. By FLORENCE 
 NIGHTINGALE. Third Edition, enlarged; 
 with 13 Plans. Post 4to. 18s. 
 
 C. M. Willich's Popular Tables 
 
 for Ascertaining the Value of Lifehold, 
 Leasehold, and Church Property, Renewal 
 Fines, &c. ; the Public Funds ; Annual 
 Average Price and Interest on Consols from 
 1731 to 1851 ; Chemical, Geographical, 
 Astronomical, Trigonometrical Tables, &c. 
 Post Svo. 10s. 
 
 Thomson's Tables of Interest, 
 
 at Three, Four, Four and a Half, and Five 
 per Cent., from One Pound to Ten Thousand 
 and from 1 to 365 Days. 12mo. 3s. Gd. 
 
 Maunder's Treasury of Know- 
 ledge and Library of Reference : comprising 
 an English Dictionary and Grammar, Uni- 
 versal Gazetteer, Classical Dictionary, Chro- 
 nology, Law Dictionary, Synopsis of the 
 Peerage, useful Tables, &c. Fcp. 10s. 
 
 General and School Atlases. 
 
 An Atlas of History and Geo- 
 graphy, representing the Political State of 
 the World at successive Epochs from the 
 commencement of the Christian Era to the 
 Present Time, in a Series of 16 coloured 
 Maps. By J. S. BREWER, M. A. Third 
 Edition, revised, &c. by E. C. BREWER, 
 LL.D. Royal Svo. 15s. 
 
 Bishop Butler's Atlas of Modern 
 
 Geography, in a Series of 33 full-coloured 
 Maps, accompanied by a complete Alpha- 
 betical Index. New Edition, corrected and 
 enlarged. Royal Svo. 10s. 6J. 
 
 Bishop Butler's Atlas of Ancient 
 
 Geography, in a Series of 24 full-coloured 
 Maps, accompanied by a complete Accen- 
 tuated Index. New Edition, corrected and 
 enlarged. Royal Svo. 12s. 
 
 School Atlas of Physical, Poli- 
 
 tical, and Commercial Geography, in 1 7 
 full-coloured Maps, accompanied by de- 
 scriptive Letterpress. By E. HUGHES 
 F.R.A.S. Royal Svo. 10s. Grf. 
 
 Middle-Class Atlas of General 
 
 Geography, in a Series of 29 full-coloured 
 Maps, containing the most recent Terri- 
 torial Changes and Discoveries. By WALTER 
 M'Lcoo, F.R.G.S. 4to. 5s. 
 
 Physical Atlas of Great Britain 
 
 and Ireland; comprising 30 full-coloured 
 Maps, with illustrative Letterpress, forming 
 a concise Synopsis of British Physical Geo- 
 graphy. By WALTER M'LEOD, F.R.G.S- 
 Fcp. 4to. 7s. Gd.
 
 20 
 
 NEW WORKS PUBLISHED BY LONGMANS AND CO. 
 
 Periodical Publica tions. 
 
 The Edinburgh Review, or Cri- 
 tical Journal, published Quarterly in Janu- 
 ary, April, July, and October. 8vo. price 
 6s. each No. 
 
 The Geological Magazine, or 
 
 Monthly Journal of Geology, edited by 
 HENRY WOODWARD, F.G.S. ; assisted by 
 Prof. J. MORRIS, F.G.S. and R. ETIIEKIDGE, 
 F.R S.E. F.G.S. 8vo. price 1*. each No. 
 
 Fraser's Magazine for Town and 
 
 Country, published on the 1st of each 
 Mouth. 8vo. price 2s. Gd. each No. 
 
 The Alpine Journal: a Record of 
 
 Mountain Adventure and Scientific Obser- 
 vation. By Members of the Alpine Club. 
 Edited by H. B. GEORGE, M.A. Published 
 Quarterly, May 31, Aug. 31, Nov. 30, Feb. 
 28. 8vo. price Is. Gd. each No. 
 
 Knowledge for the Young. 
 
 The Stepping Stone to Knowledge: 
 
 Containing upwards of Seven Hundred 
 Questions and Answers on Miscellaneous 
 Subjects, adapted to the capacity of Infant 
 Minds. By a MOTHER. New Edition, 
 enlarged and improved. 18mo. price Is. 
 
 The Stepping Stone to Geography : 
 Containing several Hundred Questions and 
 Answers on Geographical Subjects. 18mo. 1*. 
 
 The Stepping Stone to English History : 
 Containing several Hundred Questions and 
 Answers on the History of England. 1*. 
 
 The Stepping Stone to Bible Know- 
 ledge: Containing several Hundred Ques- 
 tions and Answers on the Old and New 
 Testaments. 18mo. 1*. 
 
 The Stepping Stone to Biography: 
 Containing several Hundred Questions and 
 Answers on the Lives of Eminent Men and 
 Women. 18mo. Is. 
 
 Second Series of the Stepping 
 
 Stone to Knowledge: containing upwards 
 of Eight Hundred Questions and Answers 
 on Miscellaneous Subjects not contained in 
 the FIRST SERIES. 1 8mo. Is. 
 
 The Stepping Stone to French Pronun- 
 ciation and Conversation : Containing seve- 
 ral Hundred Questions and Answers. By 
 Mr. P. SADLER. 18mo. Is. 
 
 The Stepping Stone to English Gram- 
 mar : containing several Hundred Questions 
 and Answers on English Grammar; By 
 Mr. P. SADLER. 18mo. Is. 
 
 The Stepping Stone to Natural History : 
 VEKTKBRATE or BACKBONED ANIMALS. 
 PART I. Mammalia; PART II. Birds, Rep- 
 tiles, Fishes. 18mo. Is. each Part. 
 
 | The Instructor; or, Progressive Les- 
 sons in General Knowledge. Originally 
 published under the Direction of the Com- 
 mittee of General Literature and Education 
 of the Society for Promoting Christian 
 Knowledge. 1 vols. 18mo. freely illustrated 
 with Woodcuts and Maps, price 1 is. 
 I. Exercises,Tales,and Conversations 
 on Familiar Subjects ; with Easy Les- 
 sons from History. Revised and im- 
 proved Edition. Price 2s. 
 II. Lessons on Dwelling-Houses and 
 the Materials used in Building Them ; 
 on Articles of Furniture ; and on Food 
 and Clothing. Revised and improved 
 Edition. Price 2s. 
 
 III. Lessons on the Universe ; on the 
 
 Three Kingdoms of Nature, Ani- 
 mal, Vegetable, and Mineral ; on the 
 Structure, Senses, and Habits <-f Man ; 
 and on the Preservation of Health. 
 Revised and improved Edition. 2s. 
 
 IV. Lessons on the Calendar and Al- 
 
 manack; on the Twelve Months of the 
 Year ; and on the appearances of Na- 
 ture in the Four Seasons, Spring, 
 Summer, Autumn, and Winter. Re- 
 vised and-improved Edition. Price 2s. 
 V. Descriptive Geography with Popu- 
 lar Statistics of the various Countries 
 and Divisions of the Globe, their Peo- 
 ple and Productions. Revised and 
 improved Edition. With G Maps. 2s. 
 VI. Elements of Ancient History, from 
 the Formation of the First Great Mo- 
 narchies to the Fall of the Roman 
 Empire. Revised and improved Edi- 
 tion. Price 2s. 
 
 VIL Elements of [Mediaeval and] Mo- 
 dern History, from A.D. 406 to A.D. 
 1862 : with brief Notices of European 
 Colonies. Revised and improved Edi- 
 tion. Price 2s.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 ABSOTT on Sight and Touch 6 
 
 ACTON'S Modern Cookery 18 
 
 A i KIN'S Select British Poets 17 
 
 Memoirs and Remains 3 
 
 ALCOCK'S Residence in Japan 15 
 
 ALLIES on Formation of Christianity 13 
 
 Alpine Guide (The) 15 
 
 Journal (The) 20 
 
 APJOHN'S Manual of the Metalloids 8 
 
 ARAGO'S Biosraphies of Scientific Men .... 4 
 
 Popular Astronomy 7 
 
 Meteorological Essays' 7 
 
 ARNOLD'S Manual of English Literature. ... 5 
 
 A RNOTT'S Elements of Physics 8 
 
 Arundines Canil 17 
 
 Atherstone Priory 16 
 
 ATKINSON'S Papinian 4 
 
 Autumn Holidays of a Country Parson .... 6 
 
 AYRE'S Treasury of Bible Knowledge 13 
 
 BABBAGK'S Life of a Philosopher 3 
 
 BACON'S Essays, by WHATELY 4 
 
 Life and Letters, by SPEDDING 3 
 
 Works, by ELLIS, SPEDDING, and 
 
 H EATH 4 
 
 BAIN on the Emotions and Will C 
 
 on the Senses and Intellect 6 
 
 on the Study of Character 6 
 
 BAINES'S Explorations iu S.W. Africa .... 15 
 
 BALL'S Guide to the Central Alps 15 
 
 Guide to the Western Alps 15 
 
 BAYLDON'S Rents and Tillages 12 
 
 BLACK'S Treatise on Brewing 19 
 
 BLACKLKY and FRIEDLANDER'S German 
 
 and English Dirtionary 5 
 
 BLA INK'S Rural Sports 17 
 
 BLIGHT'S v\eek at the Land's Eud 16 
 
 BONNEV'S Alpsof Dauphine" 15 
 
 BOURNE'S Catechism of the Steam Engine.; 12 
 
 , Handbook of Steam Engine .... 12 
 
 . Treatise on the Steam Engine.. .. 11 
 
 BOWDLER'S Family SHAKSPEARB 17 
 
 BOYD'S Manual for Naval Cadets 18 
 
 BR A M LEY-MOORE'S Six Sisters of the Valleys 16 
 BRANDB'S Dictionary of Science, Literature, 
 
 and Art 9 
 
 BRAY'S (C.) Education of the Feelings 7 
 
 hhilosnphy of Necessity 7 
 
 (Mrs.) British Empire 7 
 
 BREWER'S Atlas of History and Geography 19 
 
 BRI>TOS on Food and Digestion 19 
 
 BRISTOW'S Glossary of Mineralogy 8 
 
 BRODIU'S (Sir C. B.) Psychological Inquiries 7 
 
 Works 10 
 
 Autobiography 10 
 
 BROWN K'S Ice Caves of France and Switzer- 
 land 15 
 
 BROWNE'S Exposition 39 Articles 12 
 
 Pentateuch 12 
 
 BUCKLE'S History of Civilization 2 
 
 BULL'S Hints to Mothers 19 
 
 Maternal Management of Children. . 19 
 
 BUNSEN'S Analecta Ante-Nicaena 13 
 
 Ancient Egypt 2 
 
 Hippolytus and his Age 13 
 
 Philosophy of Universal History 13 
 
 BUXSEN on Apocrypha 13 
 
 BUNYAN'S Pilgrim's Progress, illustrated by 
 
 BENNETT 11 
 
 BURKE'S Vicissitudes of Families 4 
 
 BURTON'S Christian Church 3 
 
 BUTLER'S Atlas of Ancient Geography 19 
 
 Modern Geography 19 
 
 Cabinet Lawyer 19 
 
 CALVERT'S Wife's Manual 14 
 
 Campaigner at Home 6 
 
 CATS and FARLIE'S Moral Emblems 11 
 
 Chorale Book for England 14 
 
 COLKNSO (Bishop) on Pentateuch and Book 
 
 of Joshua 13 
 
 COLUMBUS'S Voyages 16 
 
 Commonplace Philosopher in Town and 
 
 Country 6 
 
 CONINGTON'S Handbook of Chemical Ana- 
 lysis 9 
 
 CONTANSEAU'S Pocket French and English 
 
 Dictionary 5 
 
 Practical ditto 5 
 
 CONYBEARE andHowsoN's Life and Epistles 
 
 ofSt.Paul 12 
 
 COOK'S Voyages 16 
 
 COPLAND'S Dictionary of Practical Medicine 10 
 
 Abridgment of ditto 10 
 
 Cox's Tales of the Great Persian War 2 
 
 Tales from Greek Mythology 16 
 
 Tales of the Gods and Heroes 16 
 
 Talesof Thebes and A rgos 16 
 
 CRESY'S Encyclopaedia of Civil Engineering 11 
 
 Critical Essays of a Country Parson 6 
 
 CROWE'S History of France 2 
 
 D'AuBiGNfe's History of the Reformation in 
 
 the time of CALVIN 2 
 
 Dead Shot (The), by MARKSMAN 17 
 
 DE LA RIVE'S Treatise on Electricity 8 
 
 DBLMARD'S Village Life in Switzerland.... 15 
 
 DE LA PRYME'S Life of Christ 13 
 
 DB TOCQUEVILLE'S Democracy in America 2 
 
 Diaries of a Lady of Quality 3 
 
 DOBSON on the Ox 18 
 
 DOVE'S Law of Storms 7 
 
 DOYLE'S Chronicle of England 2
 
 22 
 
 SEW WORKS PUBLISHED BY LONGMANS AND CO. 
 
 Edinburgh Review (The) 20 
 
 Ellice, a Tale 16 
 
 ELLICOTT'S Broad and Narrow Way 13 
 
 Commentary on Ephesians .... 13 
 
 Destiny of the Creature 13 
 
 Lectures on Life of Christ 13 
 
 . Commentary on Galatians 13 
 
 Pastoral Epist. 13 
 
 Philippians,&c. 13 
 
 Thessalonians 13 
 
 Essays and Reviews - 13 
 
 on Religion and Literature, edited by 
 
 MANNING 13 
 
 written in the Intervals of Business 6 
 
 FAIUBAIRN'S Application of Cast and 
 
 Wrought Iron to Building 11 
 
 Information for Engineers .. 11 
 
 Treatise on Mills & Millwork 11 
 
 FFOULKES'S Christendom's Divisions 13 
 
 First Friendship 16 
 
 FITZ ROY'S Weather Book 7 
 
 FOWLER'S Collieries and Colliers 12 
 
 Fraser's Magazine 20 
 
 FRESH FIELD'S Alpine Byways 15 
 
 Tour in the Grisons 15 
 
 Friends in Council 6 
 
 FROUDE'S History of England 1 
 
 GARRATT'S Marvels and Mysteries of Instinct 8 
 
 GEE'S Sunday to Sunday 14 
 
 Geological Magazine 8, 20 
 
 GiLBERTand CHURCHILL'S DolomiteMoun- 
 
 tains 15 
 
 GILLY'S Shipwrecks of the Navy 16 
 
 GOETHE'S Second Faust, by Anster 17 
 
 GOODBYE'S Elements of Mechanism 11 
 
 GORLE'S Questions on BROWNE'S Exposition 
 
 of the 39 Articles 12 
 
 Graver Thoughts of a Country Parson 6 
 
 GRAY'S Anatomy 10 
 
 GREENE'S Corals and Sea Jellies 8 
 
 Spon ges and Animalculae 8 
 
 GROVE on Correlation of Physical Forces .. 8 
 
 G WILT'S Encyclopaedia of Architecture .... 11 
 
 Handbook of Angling, by EPHEMERA 18 
 
 HARE on Election of Representatives 5 
 
 HARTWIO'S Sea and its Living Wonders. ... 8 
 
 Tropical World 8 
 
 HAWKER'S Instructions to Young Sports- 
 men 17 
 
 HEATON'S Notes on Rifle Shooting 17 
 
 HELPS'S Spanish Conquest in America .... 2 
 HERSCHEL'S Essays from the Edinburgh and 
 
 Quarterly Reviews 9 
 
 Outlines of Astronomy 7 
 
 HEWITT on the Diseases of Women 9 
 
 HINCHLIFF'S South American Sketches.... 15 
 
 Hints on Etiquette 19 
 
 HODGSON'S Time and Space 7 
 
 HOLLAND'S Chapters on Mental Physiology 6 
 
 Essays on Scientific Subjects .. 9 
 
 Medical Notes and Reflections 10 
 
 HOLMES'S System of Surgery 10 
 
 HOOKER and WALKER-ARNOTT'S British 
 
 Flora 9 
 
 HORNE'S Introduction to the Scriptures.. .. 13 
 
 HORNE'S Compendium of the Scriptures .. 13 
 
 HOSKYNS'S Talpa 12 
 
 How we Spent the Summer 15 
 
 HOWITT'S Australian Discovery 15 
 
 History of the Supernatural .... 6 
 
 Rural Life of England 16 
 
 Visits to Remarkable Places .... 16 
 
 HOWSON'S Hulsean Lectures on St. Paul 12 
 
 HUGHES'S (E.) Atlas of Physical, Political, 
 
 and Commercial Geography i<> 
 
 (W.) Geography of British His- 
 tory 7 
 
 Manual of Geography 7 
 
 HULLAH'S History of Modern Music 3 
 
 Transition Musical Lectures 3 
 
 HUMPH iihYs' Sentiments of Shakspeare. . .. 11 
 
 Hunting Grounds of the Old World 1 J 
 
 Hymns from Lyra Germanica 14 
 
 INGELOW'S Poems 17 
 
 Instructor (The) 2i> 
 
 JAMESON'S Legends of the Saints and Mar- 
 tyrs 11 
 
 Legends of the Madonna 11 
 
 Legends of the Monastic Orders 1 1 
 
 JAMESON and EASTLAKE'S History of Our 
 
 Lord 11 
 
 JOHNS'S Home Walks and Holiday Rambles 8 
 
 JOHNSON'S Patentee's Manual 11 
 
 Practical Draughtsman 11 
 
 JOHNSTON'S Gazetteer, or Geographical Dic- 
 tionary 7 
 
 JONES'S Christianity and Common Sense .. 7 
 
 KALISCH'S Commentary on the Old Testa- 
 ment 
 
 Hebrew Grammar. 
 
 KENNEDY'S Hymnologia Christiana U 
 
 KESTEVEN'S Domestic Medicine 10 
 
 KIRBY and SPENCE'S Entomology t> 
 
 KNIGHTON'S Story of Elihu Jan 15 
 
 Ki'BLER's Notes to Lyra Germanica 14 
 
 KuENENonPentateuchandJosb.ua... , U 
 
 Lady's Tour round Monte Rosa 15 
 
 LANDON'S (L. E. L.) Poetical Works 17 
 
 Late Laurels 16 
 
 LATHAM'S English Dictionary 5 
 
 LECKY'S History of Rationalism 2 
 
 Leisure Hours in Town 6 
 
 LEWES'S Biographical History of Philosophy 2 
 LEWIS on the Astronomy of the Ancients .. 4 
 on the Credibility of Early Roman 
 
 History 4 
 
 Dialogue on Government 4 
 
 on Egyptological Method 4 
 
 Essays on Administrations 4 
 
 Fables of BABRIUS 4- 
 
 on Foreign Jurisdiction 4 
 
 on Irish Disturbances t 
 
 on Observation and Reasoning in 
 
 Politics 4 
 
 on Political Terms 4 
 
 on the Romance Languages 4 
 
 LiDDELLandScoTT'sGreeU-EngiishLexicou 5 
 
 Abridged ditto 5 
 
 LINDLEY and MOORE'S Treasury of Botany. Q-
 
 NEW WORKS PUBLISHED BY LONGMANS AND CO. 
 
 23 
 
 LONGMAN'S Lectures on the History of Eng- 
 land 1 
 
 LOUDON'S Encyclopaedia of Agriculture.. .. 12 
 
 . Cottage, Farm, 
 
 and Villa Architecture 12 
 
 - Gardening 12 
 
 - Plants 9 
 
 - Trees and Shrubs 9 
 
 LOW.NDES'S Engineer's Handbook 11 
 
 Lyra Domestica 14 
 
 Eucharistica 14 
 
 Germauica 11, 14 
 
 Messianica 14 
 
 Mystica 14 
 
 Sacra 14 
 
 MACAULAY'S (Lori) Essays 2 
 
 History of England 1 
 
 Lays of Ancient Rome 17 
 
 Miscellaneous Writings 6 
 
 Speeches 5 
 
 Speeches on Parliamentary 
 
 Reform 5 
 
 MACDOUOALL'S Theory of War 12 
 
 MARSHMAN'S Life of Havelock 3 
 
 McLEOD's Middle-Class Atlas of General 
 
 Geography 19 
 
 Physical Atlas of Great Britain 
 
 and Ireland 19 
 
 McCuLLOCH 's Dictionary of Commerce. ... 18 
 
 Geographical Dictionary .... 7 
 
 MACFIE'S Vancouver Island 15 
 
 MAGUIRE'S Life of Father Mathew 3 
 
 Rome and its Rulers 3 
 
 MALING'S Indoor Gardener 9 
 
 MASSEY'S History of England 1 
 
 MASSINGBERD'S History of the Reformation 3 
 
 MAUNDER'S Biographical Treasury 4 
 
 Geographical Treasury 7 
 
 Historical Treasury 2 
 
 Scientific and Literary Treasury j 9 
 
 Treasury of Knowledge 19 
 
 Treasury of Natural History . . 
 
 MAURY'S Physical Geography 
 
 MAY'S Constitutional History of England . . 1 
 
 MELVILLE'S Digby Grand 16 
 
 General Bounce 16 
 
 Gladiators 16 
 
 Good for Nothing 16 
 
 Holmby House 16 
 
 Interpreter 16 
 
 Kate Coventry 16 
 
 Queen's Maries 16 
 
 MENDELSSOHN'S Letters 3 
 
 MEXZIES' Windsor Great Park 12 
 
 on Sewage. 
 
 MERIVALE'S (H.) Colonisation and Colonies 
 
 Historical Studies 
 
 . (C.J Fall of the Roman Republic 
 
 Romans under the Empire 
 
 on Conversion of Roman 
 
 Empire. . .' 2 
 
 on Horse's Foot 18 
 
 on Horse Shoeing 18 
 
 on Horses' Teeth 18 
 
 onStables 18 
 
 MILL en Liberty 4 
 
 on Representative Government 4 
 
 on Utilitarianism 4 
 
 MILL'S Dissertations and Discussions 4 
 
 Political Economy 4 
 
 System of Logic 4 
 
 Hamilton's Philosophy 4 
 
 MILLER'S Elements of Chemistry 9 
 
 MONSELL'S Spiritual Songs 14 
 
 Beatitudes 14 
 
 MONTAGU'S Experiments in Church and 
 
 State 13 
 
 MONTGOMERY on the Signs and Symptoms 
 
 of Pregnancy 9 
 
 MOORE'S Irish Melodies 17 
 
 LallaRookh 17 
 
 Memoirs, Journal, and Correspon- 
 dence 3 
 
 Poetical Works 17 
 
 MORELL'S Elements of Psychology 6 
 
 Mental Philosophy 6 
 
 Morning Clouds 14 
 
 MORTON'S Prince Consort's Farms 12 
 
 MOSHEIM'S Ecclesiastical History 13 
 
 MULLER'S (Max) Lectures on the Science of 
 
 Language 5 
 
 (K. O.) Literature of Ancient 
 
 Greece 2 
 
 MURCHISON on Continued Fevers 10 
 
 MURE'S Language and Literature of Greece 2 
 
 New Testament illustrated with Wood En- 
 gravings from the Old Masters 10 
 
 NEWMAN'S History of his Religious Opinions 3 
 
 NIGHTINGALE'S Notes on Hospitals 19 
 
 ODLING'S Course of Practical Chemistry. ... 9 
 
 Manual of Chemistry 9 
 
 ORMSBY'S Rambles in Algeria and Tunis . . 15 
 OWEN'S Comparative Anatomy and Physio- 
 logy of Vertebrate Animals 8 
 
 OXENH AM on Atonement 14 
 
 PACKE'S Guide to the Pyrenees 15 
 
 PAGET'S Lectures on Surgical Pathology . . 10 
 
 Camp and Cantonment 15 
 
 PEREIRA'S Elements of Materia Medica.... 10 
 
 Manual of Materia Medica 10 
 
 PERKINS'S Tuscan Sculpture 11 
 
 PHILLIPS'S Guide to Geology 8 
 
 Introduction to Mineralogy. ... 8 
 
 Pi ESSE'S Art of Perfumery 12 
 
 Chemical, Natural, and Physical 
 
 Magic 12 
 
 Laboratory of Chemical Wonders 12 
 
 Playtime with the Poets 17 
 
 Practical Mechanic's Journal 11 
 
 PRESCOTT'S Scripture Difficulties 13 
 
 PROCTOR'S Saturn 7 
 
 PYCROFT'S Course of English Reading .... 5 
 
 CricketField 18 
 
 CricketTutor 18 
 
 Cricketana 18 
 
 READE'S Poetical Works 17 
 
 Recreations of a Country Parson, SECOND 
 
 SERIES 6 
 
 REILLY'S Map of Mont Blanc 15 
 
 RIDDLE'S DiamondLatin-English Dictionary 5 
 
 First Sundays at Church 14 
 
 RIVERS'S Rose Amateur's Guide 9
 
 24 
 
 NEW WORKS PUBLISHED BY LONGMANS AND CO. 
 
 ROGERS'S Correspondence of Greyson 6 
 
 Eclipse of Faith 6 
 
 Defence of ditto 6 
 
 Essays from the Edinburgh Review 6 
 
 Fulleriana 6 
 
 ROGET'S Thesaurus of English Words anil 
 
 Phrases 5 
 
 RO.NALDS'S Fly-Fisher's Entomology 18 
 
 ROWTON'S Debater 5 
 
 RUSSELL on Government and Constitution . 1 
 
 SAXBY'S Study of Steam 18 
 
 Weather System 7 
 
 SCOTT'S Handbook of Volumetrical Analysis 19 
 
 SCROPJS on Volcanos 8 
 
 SENIOR'S Biographical Sketches 4 
 
 Historical and Philosophical 
 
 Essays 2 
 
 Essays on Fiction 16 
 
 SEWELL'S Amy Herbert 1C 
 
 Ancient History 2 
 
 CleveHall 16 
 
 Earl's Daughter 16 
 
 Experience of Life 16 
 
 Gertrude 16 
 
 Glimpse of the World 16 
 
 History of the Early Church 3 
 
 Ivors 16 
 
 Katharine Ashton 16 
 
 Laneton Parsonage 16 
 
 Margaret Percival 16 
 
 Night Lessons from Scripture. ... 14 
 
 Passinsr Thoughts on Religion 14 
 
 Preparation for Communion 14 
 
 Readings for Confirmation 14 
 
 Readings for Lent H 
 
 Self -Examination before Confir- 
 
 mation 14 
 
 Stories and Tales 16 
 
 Thoughts for the Holy Week 14 
 
 Ursula 16 
 
 SHAW'S Work on Wine 19 
 
 SHEDDEN'S Elements of Logic 5 
 
 Short Whist 19 
 
 SHORT'S Church History 3 
 
 SIEVEKINO'S (AMELIA) Life, by WINK- 
 WORTH 3 
 
 SIMPSON'S Handbook of Dining 18 
 
 SMITH'S (SouTHWooD) Philosophy of Health 19 
 
 (J.) Voyage and Shipwreck of St. 
 
 Paul 13 
 
 (G.) Wesleyan Methodism 3 
 
 (SYDNEY) Memoir and Letters 4 
 
 Miscellaneous Works .. 6 
 
 Sketches of Moral Philo- 
 
 sophy- 
 
 Wit and Wisdom 
 
 SMITH on Cavalry Drill and Manoeuvres 18 
 
 SOUTH EY'S (Doctor) 5 
 
 Poetical Works 17 
 
 SPOHR'S Autobiography 3 
 
 Spring and Autumn 14 
 
 STANLEY'S History of British Birds 8 
 
 STEBBINO'S Analysis of MILL'S Logic 5 
 
 STEPHENSON'S (R.) Life by JEAFFRESON 
 
 and POLE 3 
 
 STEPHEN'S Essays in Ecclesiastical Bio- 
 graphy 4 
 
 STEPHEN'S Lectures on the History of 
 
 France 2 
 
 Stepping Stone to Knowledge, &c '20 
 
 STIRLING'S Secret of Hegel 6 
 
 STONEHENGE on the Dog 18 
 
 on the Greyhound IS 
 
 TAJSO'S Jerusalem, by JAMES 17 
 
 TAYLOR'S (Jeremy) Works, edited by EDEN 14 
 
 TENNENT'S Ceylon 8 
 
 ~- Natural History of Ceylon 8 
 
 THIRLWALL'S History of Greece 2 
 
 THOMSON'S (Archbishop) Laws of Thought 4 
 
 (J.) Tables of Interest 19 
 
 Conspectus, by BIRKETT Ifr 
 
 TODD'S Cyclopaedia of Anatomy and Physio- 
 logy 10 
 
 and BOWMAN'S Anatomy aud Phy- 
 siology of Man 10 
 
 TROLLOPE'S Barchester Towers 1C 
 
 Warden 16 
 
 Twiss's Law of Nations 13 
 
 TYNUALL'S Lectures on Heat 8 
 
 U RE'S Dictionary of Arts, Manufactures, and 
 
 Mines 11 
 
 VVN DER HOEVEN'S Handbook of Zoology 8 
 VAUGHAN'S (R.) Revolutions in English 
 
 History 1 
 
 (R. A.) Hours with the Mystics 7 
 
 VILLARI'S Savonarola 
 
 WATSON'S Principles and Practice of Physic 10 
 
 WATTS'S Dictionary of Chemistry 9 
 
 WEBB'S Celestial Objects lor Common Tele- 
 scopes 7 
 
 WEBSTER & WILKINSON'S Greek Testament 13 
 
 WELD'S Last Winter in Rome 15 
 
 WELLINGTON'S Life, by BRIALMONT and 
 
 GLBIG 3 
 
 by GLKIQ 3 
 
 WEST on the Diseases of Infancy and Child- 
 hood 9 
 
 WHATELY'S English Synonymes 4 
 
 Remains 4 
 
 Rhetoric 4 
 
 Sermons 14 
 
 Paley's Moral Phylosophy H 
 
 WHEWELL'S History of the Inductive Sci- 
 ences 2 
 
 Whist, what to lead, by CAM 19 
 
 WHITE and RIDDLE'S Latin-English Dic- 
 tionary 5 
 
 WILBKRFORCE (W.) Recollections of, by 
 
 HARFORD 3 
 
 WILLIAMS'S Superstitions of Witchcraft .. 6 
 
 WITLICH'S Popular Tables 19 
 
 WILSON'S Bryologia Britannica 9 
 
 WOOD'S Homes without H;inds 8 
 
 WOODWARD'S Historical and Chronological 
 
 Encyclopaedia 2 
 
 YONGE'S English-Greek Lexicon 5 
 
 Abridged ditto o 
 
 YOUNG'S Nautical Dictionary 18 
 
 YOUATT on the Dog 18 
 
 on the Horse ' 1* 
 
 SPOTTISWOODB AKD co., PRINTERS, KEW-SIBKET SQUAKK,
 
 University of California 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 
 
 Return this material to the library 
 
 from which it was borrowed. 
 
 QLJAN23 19
 
 ya 'Xpnaj 
 'noi^onpai - 
 
 *P8 'si <n 'st 1 Ai3p-<n W 
 9 Mm sapnQ P BB 8iqs> 
 tras tn otiunuoo tB3nag jo 
 -nom *> en ?S JOj t!3F ? 
 01 -SSI ii? 'a9 <n AO-I 
 M S31q OOS'T 
 
 qr 
 
 sajurl snoiAoad ? 
 J noijanps-t 
 Mauut; aaaii 
 
 0) 
 
 d 
 0. 
 
 GO
 
 University of California 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 
 
 Return this material to the library 
 
 from which it was borrowed. 
 
 AN23 19!I5 
 
 aq o^ 
 
 B farauo 
 
 x ai[ 0q [H 
 
 x%,v'oi8 
 
 y \qs aaojaq sa 
 
 jo. 
 
 q;iM. ^ 
 
 
 a midd 
 a- also 
 rang m 
 from 
 ">airy, 
 Ho 
 
 en 
 18 
 W 
 sa 
 
 le 
 a 
 
 e 
 o 
 as 
 to 
 a 
 k 
 
 -aged 
 d 
 
 married m 
 Footman, ag 
 Footmen; 
 30; Hou 
 resses, G 
 era. 
 
 ,od Ploughmen; 
 heir wives as cooks; 
 , 8 cooks; and a Rre 
 aervanU-Messrs. 
 itle Meadow, Norw 
 
 Kelfr 
 
 " S|3-t 
 
 !!!*! 
 
 O r^] 
 
 s- 
 
 _ p B 
 
 
 B 02' 
 
 sr= 
 
 W 3 
 
 tJ^ 
 
 So 
 c s O 
 
 a> e 
 
 * 
 
 or 
 
 act o 
 
 Apply 
 h. 
 
 sionally 
 GLIDE' 
 
 ^ wo 
 Housekee 
 sgister 01 
 
 oma 
 eeper 
 1