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dulness in a Master of a College makes him a quarter of a year, have plentiful scope for fitter to manage secular affairs."

:) #


The Good Yeoman." Is a gentleman in ore, whom the next age may see refined." Good Parent." For his love, therein like a well-drawn picture, he eyes all his children alike."

Bishop Brownrig.-" He carried learning enough in numerato about nim in his pockets for any discourse, and had much more at home in his chests for any serious dispute."

Deformity in Children.-"This partiality is tyranny, when parents despise those that are deformed; enough to break those whom God had bowed before."

Good Master." In correcting his servant he becomes not a slave to his own passion. Not cruelly making new indentures of the flesh of his apprentice. He is tender of his servant in sickness and age. If crippled in his service, his house is his hospital. Yet how many throw away those dry bones, out of the which themselves have sucked the marrow!"

Good Widow." If she can speak but little good of him [her dead husband] she speaks but little of him. So handsomely folding up her discourse, that his virtues are shown outwards, and his vices wrapt up in silence; as counting it barbarism to throw dirt on his memory, who hath mould cast on his body."

Horses.-"These are men's wings, wherewith they make such speed. A generous creature a horse is, sensible in some sort of honour; and made most handsome by that which deforms men most-pride."

Martyrdom." Heart of oak hath sometimes warped a little in the scorching heat of persecution. Their want of true courage herein cannot be excused. Yet many censure them for surrendering up their forts after a long siege, who would have yielded up their own at the first summons.-Oh! there is more required to make one valiant, than to call Cranmer or Jewel coward; as if the fire in Smithfield had been no hotter than what is painted in the Book of Martyrs." Text of Paul.-"St. Paul saith, Let not the sun go down on your wrath, to carry news to the antipodes in another world of thy revengeful nature. Yet let us take the Apostle's meaning rather than his words, with all possible speed to depose our passion; not understanding him so literally, that we may take leave to be angry till sunset: then might our wrath lengthen with the days; and men in Greenland, where the day lasts above

Modest Want.-"Those that with diligence fight against poverty, though neither conquer till death makes it a drawn battle, expect not but prevent their craving of thee: for God forbid the heavens should never rain, till the earth first opens her mouth; seeing some grounds will sooner burn than chap.”

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the condition of Sir Edward. This accident, that he had killed one in a private quarrel, put a period to his carnal mirth, and was a covering to his eyes all the days of his life. No possible provocations could afterwards tempt him to a duel; and no wonder that one's conscience loathed that whereof he had surfeited. He refused all challenges with more honour than others accepted them; it being well known, that he would set his foot as far in the face of his enemy as any man alive."— Worthies, article Lincolnshire.

Decayed Gentry." It happened in the reign of King James, when Henry Earl of Huntingdon was Lieutenant of Leicestershire, that a labourer's son in that country was

Henry de Essex.-" He is too well known in our English Chronicles, being Baron of Raleigh, in Essex, and Hereditary Standard Bearer of England. It happened in the reign of this king [Henry II.] there was a fierce battle fought in Flintshire, at Coleshall, between the English and Welsh, wherein this Henry de Essex animum et signum simul abjecit, betwixt traitor and coward, cast away both his courage and banner together, occasioning a great overthrow of English. But pressed into the wars; as I take it, to go he that had the baseness to do, had the bold-over with Count Mansfield. The old man at ness to deny the doing, of so foul a fact; Leicester requested his son might be disuntil he was challenged in combat by Robert charged, as being the only staff of his age, de Momford, a knight, eye-witness thereof, who by his industry maintained him and his and by him overcome in a duel. Whereupon mother. The Earl demanded his name, his large inheritance was confiscated to the which the man for a long time was loath to king, and he himself, partly thrust, partly tell (as suspecting it a fault for so poor a going, into a convent, hid his head in a cowl, man to confess the truth), at last he told his under which, betwixt shame and sanctity, he name was Hastings. 'Cousin Hastings,' said! blushed out the remainder of his life.”*- the Earl, we cannot all be top branches of Worthies, article Bedfordshire. the tree, though we all spring from the same Sir Edward Harwood, Knt.-" I have read root; your son, my kinsman, shall not be of a bird, which hath a face like, and yet pressed.' So good was the meeting of will prey upon, a man: who coming to the modesty in a poor, with courtesy in an honwater to drink, and finding there by reflec- ourable person, and gentry I believe in both. tion, that he had killed one like himself, And I have reason to believe, that some who pineth away by degrees, and never after-justly own the surnames and blood of Bohuns, wards enjoyeth itself. Such is in some sort, Mortimers, and Plantagenets (though ignorant of their own extractions,) are hid in the heap of common people, where they find that under a thatched cottage which some of their ancestors could not enjoy in a leaded castle,


contentment, with quiet and security."— Worthies, article Of Shire-Reeves or Shiriffes.

old gate still surviving, out of which the city is run out. Besides, commonly some new spruce town not far off is grown out of the ashes thereof, which yet hath so much natural affection as dutifully to own those reverend ruins for her mother."

• The fine imagination of Fuller has done what might

have been pronounced impossible: it has given an inte

rest and a holy character to coward infamy. Nothing can be more beautiful than the concluding account of the last days, and expiatory retirement, of poor Henry de

Essex. The address with which the whole of this little

story is told is most consummate: the charm of it seems

to consist in a perpetual balance of antitheses not too violently opposed, and the consequent activity of mind in which the reader is kept :-"Betwixt traitor and

coward"—" baseness to do, boldness to deny "-" partly thrust, partly going, into a convent "-" betwixt shame and sanctity." The reader by this artifice is taken into a kind of partnership with the writer,-his judgment is exercised in settling the preponderance,―he feels as if he were consulted as to the issue. But the modern historian flings at once the dead weight of his own judgment into the scale, and settles the matter.

+I do not know where Fuller read of this bird; but a more awful and affecting story, and moralising of a story, in Natural History, or rather in that Fabulous Natural History where poets and mythologists found the Phoenix and the Unicorn, and "other strange fowl," is nowhere extant. It is a fable which Sir Thomas Browne, if he had heard of it, would have exploded among his Vulgar

Tenderness of Conscience in a Tradesman.— "Thomas Curson, born in Allhallows, Lombard-street, armourer, dwelt without Bishops

Errors; but the delight which he would have taken in the discussing of its probabilities, would have shown that the truth of the fact, though the avowed object of his search was not so much the motive which put him upon the investigation, as those hidden affinities and poetical analogies,-those essential verities in the appli cation of strange fable, which made him linger with such reluctant delay among the last fading lights of popular tradition; and not seldom to conjure up a superstition, that had been long extinct, from its dusty grave, to inter it himself with greater ceremonies and solemnities of burial.

gate. It happened that a stage-player borrowed a rusty musket, which had lain long leger in his shop: now though his part were comical, he therewith acted an unexpected tragedy, killing one of the standers by, the gun casually going off on the stage, which he suspected not to be charged. Oh the difference of divers men in the tenderness of their consciences! some are scarce touched Doctors, and their servants, (so that the remnant of the body would not hold out a bone amongst so many hands,) take what was left out of the grave, and burnt them to ashes, and cast them into Swift, a neighbouring brook, running hard by. Thus this brook has conveyed his ashes into Avon, Avon into Severn, Severn into the narrow seas, they into the main ocean; and thus the ashes of Wickliffe are the emblem of his doctrine, which now is dispersed all the world over. - Church


people) be taken out of the ground, and thrown far off from any Christian burial. In obedience hereunto, Richard Fleming, Bishop of Lincoln, Diocesan of Lutterworth, sent his officers (vultures with a quick sight, scent, at a dead carcass) to ungrave him. Accordingly to Lutterworth they come, Sumner, Commissary, Official, Chancellor, Proctors,

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with a wound, whilst others are wounded with a touch therein. This poor armourer was highly afflicted therewith, though done against his will, yea, without his knowledge, in his absence, by another, out of mere chance. Hereupon he resolved to give all his estate to pious uses: no sooner had he gotten a round sum, but presently he posted with it in his apron to the Court of Alder men, and was in pain till by their direction he had settled it for the relief of poor in his own and other parishes, and disposed of some *The concluding period of this most lively narrative hundreds of pounds accordingly, as I am will not call a conceit; it is one of the grandest concredibly informed by the then church wardens ceptions I ever met with. One feels the ashes of Wickof the said parish. Thus as he conceived him-liffe gliding away out of the reach of the Sumners, Com


missaries, Officials, Proctors, Doctors, and all the

self casually (though at a great distance) to have occasioned the death of one, he was the immediate and direct cause of giving a comfortable living to many."

puddering rout of executioners of the impotent rage of the baffled Council: from Swift into Avon, from Avon into Severn, from Severn into the narrow seas, from the narrow seas into the main ocean, where they become the emblem of his doctrine, "dispersed all the world over."

Hamlet's tracing the body of Cæsar to the clay that
stops a beer barrel is a no less curious pursuit of
“ruined mortality;" but it is in an inverse ratio to this:
it degrades and saddens us, for one part of our nature at
least; but this expands the whole of our nature, and

gives to the body a sort of ubiquity,-a diffusion as far as
the actions of its partner can have reach or influence.
I have seen this passage smiled at, and set down as a

But what is not a conceit

quaint conceit of old Fuller.
to those who rea it in a temper different from that in
which the writer composed it? The most pathetic parts
of poetry to cold tempers seem and are nonsense,

Burning of Wickliffe's Body by Order of the Council of Constance.-" Hitherto [A.D. 1428] the corpse of John Wickliffe had quietly slept in his grave about forty-one years after his death, till his body was reduced to bones, and his bones almost to dust. For though the earth in the chancel of Lutterworth, in Leicestershire, where he was interred, hath not so quick a digestion with the earth of Aceldama, to consume flesh in twenty-four hours, yet such the appetite thereof, and all other English graves, to leave small reversions of a body after so many years. But now such the spleen of the Council of Constance, as they not only cursed his memory as dying an obstinate heretic, but ordered that his bones (with this charitable caution,-if it may be discerned from the bodies of other faithful

as divinity was to the Greeks foolishness. When Richard II., meditating on his own utter annihilation as to royalty, cries out,

"O that I were a mockery king of snow,
To melt before the sun of Bolingbroke,"

if we had been going on pace for pace with the passion before, this sudden conversion of a strong-felt metaphor into something to be actually realised in nature, like that of Jeremiah, "Oh! that my head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears," is strictly and strikingly natural; but come unprepared upon it, and it is a conceit: and so is a "head" turned into "waters."



ONE of the earliest and noblest enjoy-riot and extravagance, ending in the one with ments I had when a boy, was in the contem- driving the Prodigal from the society of men plation of those capital prints by Hogarth, into the solitude of the deserts, and in the the Harlot's and Rake's Progresses, which, other with conducting the Rake through his along with some others, hung upon the walls several stages of dissipation into the still of a great hall in an old-fashioned house in more complete desolations of the mad-house, in the play and in the picture, are described with almost equal force and nature. The levee of the Rake, which forms the subject of the second plate in the series, is almost a transcript of Timon's levee in the opening scene of that play. We find a dedicating poet, and other similar characters, in both. The concluding scene in the Rake's Progress

-shire, and seemed the solitary tenants (with myself) of that antiquated and lifedeserted apartment.

Recollection of the manner in which those prints used to affect me has often made me wonder, when I have heard Hogarth described as a mere comic painter, as one of those whose chief ambition was to raise a laugh. To deny that there are throughout is perhaps superior to the last scenes of the prints which I have mentioned circum- Timon. If we seek for something of kindred stances introduced of a laughable tendency, excellence in poetry, it must be in the scenes would be to run counter to the common of Lear's beginning madness, where the King notions of mankind; but to suppose that in and the Fool and the Tom-o'-Bedlam conspire their ruling character they appeal chiefly to to produce such a medley of mirth checked the risible faculty, and not first and foremost by misery, and misery rebuked by mirth;

where the society of those "strange bedfellows" which misfortunes have brought Lear acquainted with, so finely sets forth the destitute state of the monarch; while the lunatic bans of the one, and the disjointed sayings and wild but pregnant allusions of the other, so wonderfully sympathise with that confusion, which they seem to assist in the production of, in the senses of that "child-changed father."


to the very heart of man, its best and most serious feelings, would be to mistake no less grossly their aim and purpose. A set of severer Satires (for they are not so much Comedies, which they have been likened to, as they are strong and masculine Satires) less mingled with anything of mere fun, were never written upon paper, or graven upon copper. They resemble Juvenal, or the satiric touches in Timon of Athens.

I was pleased with the reply of a gentleman, In the scene in Bedlam, which terminates who being asked which book he esteemed the Rake's Progress, we find the same assort most in his library, answered, "Shak- ment of the ludicrous with the terrible, speare:" being asked which he esteemed Here is desperate madness, the overturning next best, replied, "Hogarth." His graphic of originally strong thinking faculties, at representations are indeed books: they have which we shudder, as we contemplate the the teeming, fruitful, suggestive meaning of duration and pressure of affliction which it words. Other pictures we look at,-his must have asked to destroy such a building; prints we read. -and here is the gradual hurtless lapse into

In pursuance of this parallel, I have some-idiocy, of faculties, which at their best of times entertained myself with comparing the times never having been strong, we look Timor of Athens of Shakspeare (which I upon the consummation of their decay with have just mentioned) and Hogarth's Rake's no more of pity than is consistent with a Progress together. The story, the moral, in smile. The mad tailor, the poor driveller both is nearly the same. The wild course of that has gone out of his wits (and truly he

appears to have had no great journey to go finest representation of a virtuous death-bed to get past their confines) for the love of surrounded by real mourners, pious children, Charming Betty Careless, these half-laugh- weeping friends,-perhaps more by the very able, scarce-pitiable objects, take off from the contrast. What reflections does it not awake, horror which the principal figure would of of the dreadful heartless state in which the itself raise, at the same time that they assist creature (a female too) must have lived, who the feeling of the scene by contributing to in death wants the accompaniment of one the general notion of its subject:genuine tear. That wretch who is removing the lid of the coffin to gaze upon the corpse with a face which indicates a perfect negation of all goodness or womanhood-the hypocrite parson and his demure partner-all the fiendish group-to a thoughtful mind present a moral emblem more affecting than if the poor friendless carcass had been depicted as thrown out to the woods, where wolves had assisted at its obsequies, itself furnishing forth its own funeral banquet.

"Madness, thou chaos of the brain,

What art, that pleasure giv'st and pain?
Tyranny of Fancy's reign!
Mechanic Fancy, that can build
Vast labyrinths and mazes wild,
With rule disjointed, shapeless measure,
Fill'd with horror, fill'd with pleasure!
Shapes of horror, that would even
Cast doubts of mercy upon heaven;
Shapes of pleasure, that but seen,
Would split the shaking sides of Spleen."

Is it carrying the spirit of comparison to excess to remark, that in the poor kneeling It is easy to laugh at such incongruities as weeping female who accompanies her seducer are met together in this picture, incongruous in his sad decay, there is something analogous objects being of the very essence of laughter, to Kent, or Caius, as he delights rather to-but surely the laugh is far different in its be called, in Lear, the noblest pattern of kind from that thoughtless species to which virtue which even Shakspeare has conceived, we are moved by mere farce and grotesque. —who follows his royal master in banishment, We laugh when Ferdinand Count Fathom, that had pronounced his banishment, and, at the first sight of the white cliffs of Britain, forgetful at once of his wrongs and dignities, feels his heart yearn with filial fondness taking on himself the disguise of a menial, towards the land of his progenitors, which he retains his fidelity to the figure, his loyalty is coming to fleece and plunder, we smile to the carcass, the shadow, the shell and at the exquisite irony of the passage,—but if empty husk of Lear? we are not led on by such passages to some more salutary feeling than laughter, we are very negligent perusers of them in book or picture.

It is the fashion with those who cry up the great Historical School in this country, at the head of which Sir Joshua Reynolds is placed, to exclude Hogarth from that school, as an artist of an inferior and vulgar class. Those persons seem to me to confound the painting of subjects in common or vulgar life with the being a vulgar artist. The quantity of thought which Hogarth crowds into every picture would alone unvulgarise every subject which he might choose. Let us take the lowest of his subjects, the print called Gin Lane. Here is plenty of poverty and low stuff to disgust upon a superficial view; and accordingly a cold spectator feels himself immediately disgusted and repelled. I have seen many turn away from it, not being able to bear it. The same persons would perhaps have looked with great complacency upon Poussin's celebrated picture

In the perusal of a book, or of a picture, much of the impression which we receive depends upon the habit of mind which we bring with us to such perusal. The same circumstance may make one person laugh, which shall render another very serious; or in the same person the first impression may be corrected by after-thought. The misemployed incongruous characters at the Harlot's Funeral, on a superficial inspection, provoke to laughter; but when we have sacrificed the first emotion to levity, a very different frame of mind succeeds, or the painter has lost half his purpose. I never look at that wonderful assemblage of depraved beings, who, without a grain of reverence or pity in their perverted minds, are performing the sacred exteriors of duty to the relics of their departed partner in folly, but I am as much moved to sympathy from the very want of it in them, as I should be by the

* Lines inscribed under the plate.

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