101:162;00@@@@@| 101:162;01[' ]| 101:162;02[' ]| When I was at Grand*Cairo, I picked up$5$ several 101:162;03[' ]| oriental manuscripts, which$6#1$ I have still by$4$ me. Among 101:162;04[' ]| others I met with one entitled \The*Visions*of*Mirzah\, 101:162;05[' ]| which$6#1$ I have read over with great pleasure. I intend 101:162;06[' ]| to$9$ give it to$4$ the public when I have no$2$ other entertainment 101:162;07[' ]| for$4$ them, and shall begin with the first 101:162;08[' ]| vision, which$6#1$ I have translated word for$4$ word as 101:162;09[' ]| follows. 101:162;10[' ]| ""On$4$ the fifth day of the moon, which$6#1$, according to$4$ 101:162;11[' ]| the custom of my forefathers, I always kept holy, after 101:162;12[' ]| having washed myself, and offered up$5$ my morning 101:162;13[' ]| devotions, I ascended the high hills of Bagdat, in$4$ order 101:162;14[' ]| to$9$ pass the rest of the day in$4$ meditation and prayer. 101:162;15[' ]| As I was here airing myself on$4$ the tops of the mountains, 101:162;16[' ]| I fell into a profound contemplation on$4$ the vanity of 101:162;17[' ]| human life; and passing from one thought to$4$ another, 101:162;18[' ]| "Surely," said I, "man is but a shadow, and life a 101:162;19[' ]| dream." Whilst I was thus musing, I cast my eyes 101:162;20[' ]| towards the summit of a rock that$6#1$ was not far from me, 101:162;21[' ]| where I discovered one in$4$ the habit of a shepherd, with 101:162;22[' ]| a little musical instrument in$4$ his hand. As I looked 101:162;23[' ]| upon$4$ him, he applied it to$4$ his lips, and began to$9$ play 101:162;24[' ]| upon$4$ it. The sound of it was exceeding sweet, and 101:162;25[' ]| wrought into a variety of tunes that$6#1$ were inexpressibly 101:162;26[' ]| melodious, and altogether different from anything I had 101:162;27[' ]| ever heard: they put me in$4$ mind of those heavenly airs 101:162;28[' ]| that$6#1$ are played to$4$ the departed souls of good men upon$4$ 101:162;29[' ]| their first arrival in$4$ Paradise, to$9$ wear out the impressions 101:162;30[' ]| of the last agonies, and qualify them for$4$ the 101:162;31[' ]| pleasures of that$6#2$ happy place. My heart melted away 101:162;32[' ]| in$4$ secret raptures. 101:162;33[' ]| ""I had been often told that$3$ the rock before me was 101:162;34[' ]| the haunt of a genius, and that$3$ several had been entertained 101:162;35[' ]| with music who$6#1$ had passed by$4$ it, but never 101:162;36[' ]| heard that$3$ the musician had before made himself visible. 101:162;37[' ]| When he had raised my thoughts by$4$ those transporting 101:163;01[' ]| airs which$6#1$ he played, to$9$ taste the pleasures of his conversation, 101:163;02[' ]| as I looked upon$4$ him like$4$ one astonished, he 101:163;03[' ]| beckoned to$4$ me, and by$4$ the waving of his hand directed 101:163;04[' ]| me to$9$ approach the place where he sat. I drew near 101:163;05[' ]| with that$6#2$ reverence that$6#1$ is due to$4$ a superior nature; 101:163;06[' ]| and as my heart was entirely subdued by$4$ the captivating 101:163;07[' ]| strains I had heard, I fell down at his feet and wept. 101:163;08[' ]| The genius smiled upon$4$ me with a look of compassion 101:163;09[' ]| and affability that$6#1$ familiarized him to$4$ my imagination, 101:163;10[' ]| and at once dispelled all the fears and apprehensions 101:163;11[' ]| with which$6#1$ I approached him. He lifted me from the 101:163;12[' ]| ground, and taking me by$4$ the hand, "Mirzah," said he, 101:163;13[' ]| "I have heard thee in$4$ thy soliloquies; follow me." 101:163;14[' ]| ""He then led me to$4$ the highest pinnacle of the rock, 101:163;15[' ]| and placing me on$4$ the top of it, "Cast thy eyes east-ward," 101:163;16[' ]| said he, "and tell me what thou seest." "I see," 101:163;17[' ]| said I, "a huge valley, and a prodigious tide of water 101:163;18[' ]| rolling through it." "The valley that$6#1$ thou seest," said 101:163;19[' ]| he, "is the vale of misery, and the tide of water that$6#1$ 101:163;20[' ]| thou seest is part of the great tide of eternity." "What 101:163;21[' ]| is the reason," said I, "that$3$ the tide I see rises out of a 101:163;22[' ]| thick mist at one end, and again loses itself in$4$ a thick 101:163;23[' ]| mist at the other?" "What thou seest," said he, "is 101:163;24[' ]| that$6#2$ portion of eternity which$6#1$ is called time, measured 101:163;25[' ]| out by$4$ the sun, and reaching from the beginning of the 101:163;26[' ]| world to$4$ its consummation. Examine now," said he, 101:163;27[' ]| "this sea that$6#1$ is thus bounded with darkness at both 101:163;28[' ]| ends, and tell me what thou discoverest in$4$ it." "I see 101:163;29[' ]| a bridge," said I, 'standing in$4$ the midst of the tide." 101:163;30[' ]| "That$6#2$ bridge thou seest," said he, "is human life: consider 101:163;31[' ]| it attentively." Upon$4$ a more leisurely survey of 101:163;32[' ]| it, I found that$3$ it consisted of threescore and ten entire 101:163;33[' ]| arches, with several broken arches, which$6#1$, added to$4$ 101:163;34[' ]| those that$6#1$ were entire, made up$5$ the number about an 101:163;35[' ]| hundred. As I was counting the arches, the genius 101:163;36[' ]| told me that$3$ this bridge consisted at first of a thousand 101:163;37[' ]| arches; but that$3$ a great flood swept away the rest, and 101:163;38[' ]| left the bridge in$4$ the ruinous condition I now beheld 101:163;39[' ]| it. "But tell me further," said he, "what thou discoverest 101:163;40[' ]| on$4$ it." "I see multitudes of people passing 101:164;01[' ]| over it," said I, "and a black cloud hanging on$4$ each end 101:164;02[' ]| of it." As I looked more attentively, I saw several of 101:164;03[' ]| the passengers dropping through the bridge, into the 101:164;04[' ]| great tide that$6#1$ flowed underneath it; and upon$4$ farther 101:164;05[' ]| examination, perceived there were innumerable trap-doors 101:164;06[' ]| that$6#1$ lay concealed in$4$ the bridge, which$6#1$ the 101:164;07[' ]| passengers no$2$ sooner trod upon$4$, but they fell through 101:164;08[' ]| into the tide, and immediately disappeared. These 101:164;09[' ]| hidden pit-falls were set very thick at the entrance of 101:164;10[' ]| the bridge, so$3$ that$3$ throngs of people no$2$ sooner broke 101:164;11[' ]| through the cloud, but many of them fell into them. 101:164;12[' ]| They grew thinner towards the middle, but multiplied 101:164;13[' ]| and lay closer together towards the end of the arches 101:164;14[' ]| that$6#1$ were entire. 101:164;15[' ]| ""There were indeed some persons, but their number 101:164;16[' ]| was very small, that$6#1$ continued a kind of hobbling 101:164;17[' ]| march on$4$ the broken arches, but fell through one 101:164;18[' ]| after another, being quite tired and spent with so$5#1$ 101:164;19[' ]| long a walk. 101:164;20[' ]| ""I passed some time in$4$ the contemplation of this 101:164;21[' ]| wonderful structure, and the great variety of objects 101:164;22[' ]| which$6#1$ it presented. My heart was filled with a deep 101:164;23[' ]| melancholy to$9$ see several dropping unexpectedly in$4$ the 101:164;24[' ]| midst of mirth and jollity, and catching at every*thing 101:164;25[' ]| that$6#1$ stood by$4$ them to$9$ save themselves. Some were 101:164;26[' ]| looking up$5$ towards the heavens in$4$ a thoughtful posture, 101:164;27[' ]| and in$4$ the midst of a speculation stumbled and fell out 101:164;28[' ]| of sight. Multitudes were very busy in$4$ the pursuit of 101:164;29[' ]| bubbles that$6#1$ glittered in$4$ their eyes and danced before 101:164;30[' ]| them, but often, when they thought themselves within 101:164;31[' ]| the reach of them, their footing failed, and down they 101:164;32[' ]| sunk. In$4$ this confusion of objects, I observed some 101:164;33[' ]| with scimitars in$4$ their hands, and others with pill-boxes, 101:164;34[' ]| who$6#1$ ran to$8$ and fro upon$4$ the bridge, thrusting several 101:164;35[' ]| persons on$4$ trap-doors which$6#1$ did not seem to$9$ lie in$4$ their 101:164;36[' ]| way, and which$6#1$ they might have escaped had they not 101:164;37[' ]| been thus forced upon$4$ them. 101:164;38[' ]| ""The genius, seeing me indulge myself in$4$ this melancholy 101:164;39[' ]| prospect, told me I had dwelt long enough upon$4$ 101:164;40[' ]| it; "Take thine eyes off the bridge," said he, "and tell 101:165;01[' ]| me if thou yet seest anything thou dost not comprehend." 101:165;02[' ]| Upon$4$ looking up$5$, "What mean," said I, "those 101:165;03[' ]| great flights of birds that$6#1$ are perpetually hovering about 101:165;04[' ]| the bridge, and settling upon$4$ it from time to$4$ time? I 101:165;05[' ]| see vultures, harpies, ravens, cormorants, and among 101:165;06[' ]| many other feathered creatures several little winged 101:165;07[' ]| boys, that$6#1$ perch in$4$ great numbers upon$4$ the middle 101:165;08[' ]| arches." "These," said the genius, "are envy, avarice, 101:165;09[' ]| superstition, despair, love, with the like$2$ cares and 101:165;10[' ]| passions that$6#1$ infest human life." 101:165;11[' ]| ""I here fetched a deep sigh; "Alas," said I, "man 101:165;12[' ]| was made in$4$ vain! how is he given away to$4$ misery and 101:165;13[' ]| mortality! tortured in$4$ life, and swallowed up$5$ in$4$ death!" 101:165;14[' ]| The genius, being moved with compassion towards me, 101:165;15[' ]| bid me quit so$5#1$ uncomfortable a prospect. "Look no$2$ 101:165;16[' ]| more," said he, "on$4$ man in$4$ the first stage of his existence, 101:165;17[' ]| in$4$ his setting out for$4$ eternity; but cast thine eye 101:165;18[' ]| on$4$ that$6#2$ thick mist into which$6#1$ the tide bears the several 101:165;19[' ]| generations of mortals that$6#1$ fall into it." I directed my 101:165;20[' ]| sight as I was ordered, and (whether or no$5$ the good 101:165;21[' ]| genius strengthened it with a supernatural force, or 101:165;22[' ]| dissipated part of the mist that$6#1$ was before too thick for$4$ 101:165;23[' ]| the eye to$9$ penetrate) I saw the valley opening at the 101:165;24[' ]| further end, and spreading forth into an immense ocean, 101:165;25[' ]| that$6#1$ had a huge rock of adamant running through the 101:165;26[' ]| midst of it, and dividing it into two equal parts. The 101:165;27[' ]| clouds still rested on$4$ one half of it, insomuch that$3$ I 101:165;28[' ]| could discover nothing in$4$ it: but the other appeared to$4$ 101:165;29[' ]| me a vast ocean planted with innumerable islands, that$6#1$ 101:165;30[' ]| were covered with fruits and flowers, and interwoven 101:165;31[' ]| with a thousand little shining seas that$6#1$ ran among 101:165;32[' ]| them. I could see persons dressed in$4$ glorious habits, 101:165;33[' ]| with garlands upon$4$ their heads, passing among the 101:165;34[' ]| trees, lying down by$4$ the sides of the fountains, or resting 101:165;35[' ]| on$4$ beds of flowers; and could hear a confused 101:165;36[' ]| harmony of singing birds, falling waters, human voices, 101:165;37[' ]| and musical instruments. Gladness grew in$4$ me upon$4$ 101:165;38[' ]| the discovery of so$5#1$ delightful a scene. I wished for$4$ 101:165;39[' ]| the wings of an eagle, that$3$ I might fly away to$4$ those 101:165;40[' ]| happy seats; but the genius told me there was no$2$ 101:166;01[' ]| passage to$4$ them, except through the gates of death that$6#1$ 101:166;02[' ]| I saw opening every moment upon$4$ the bridge. "The 101:166;03[' ]| islands," said he, "that$6#1$ lie so$5#1$ fresh and green before 101:166;04[' ]| thee, and with which$6#1$ the whole face of the ocean 101:166;05[' ]| appears spotted as far as thou canst see, are more in$4$ 101:166;06[' ]| number than the sands on$4$ the sea-shore; there are 101:166;07[' ]| myriads of islands behind those which$6#1$ thou here discoverest, 101:166;08[' ]| reaching further than thine eye or even thine 101:166;09[' ]| imagination can extend itself. These are the mansions 101:166;10[' ]| of good men after death, who$6#1$, according to$4$ the degree 101:166;11[' ]| and kinds of virtue in$4$ which$6#1$ they excelled, are distributed 101:166;12[' ]| among these several islands, which$6#1$ abound 101:166;13[' ]| with pleasures of different kinds and degrees, suitable 101:166;14[' ]| to$4$ the relishes and perfections of those who$6#1$ are settled 101:166;15[' ]| in$4$ them; every island is a paradise accommodated to$4$ 101:166;16[' ]| its respective inhabitants. Are not these, O Mirzah, 101:166;17[' ]| habitations worth contending for$4$? Does life appear 101:166;18[' ]| miserable, that$6#1$ gives thee opportunites of earning such 101:166;19[' ]| a reward? is death to$9$ be feared, that$6#1$ will$1$ convey thee 101:166;20[' ]| to$4$ so$5#1$ happy an existence? Think not man was made 101:166;21[' ]| in$4$ vain, who$6#1$ has such an eternity reserved for$4$ him." I 101:166;22[' ]| gazed with inexpressible pleasure on$4$ these happy islands. 101:166;23[' ]| At length, said I, "Shew me now, I beseech thee, the 101:166;24[' ]| secrets that$6#1$ lie hidden under those dark clouds which$6#1$ 101:166;25[' ]| cover the ocean on$4$ the other side of the rock of 101:166;26[' ]| adamant." The genius making me no$2$ answer, I turned 101:166;27[' ]| about to$9$ address him a second time, but I found that$3$ 101:166;28[' ]| he had left me; I then turned again to$4$ the vision which$6#1$ 101:166;29[' ]| I had been so$5#1$ long contemplating; but instead of the 101:166;30[' ]| rolling tide, the arched bridge, and the happy islands, 101:166;31[' ]| I saw nothing but the long hollow valley of Bagdat, 101:166;32[' ]| with oxen, sheep, and camels grazing upon$4$ the sides 101:166;33[' ]| of it." ~~ 101:166;33[' ]| <\Spectator.\> 101:014,00@@@@@| 101:014,01[' ]| 101:014,02[' ]| <1467(?) ~~ 1532> 101:014,03[' ]| 101:014,04[' ]| THERE was an usage in$4$ England, and yet is in$4$ divers 101:014,05[' ]| countries, that$3$ the noblemen hath great franchise over 101:014,06[' ]| the commons and keepeth them in$4$ servage, that$6#2$ is to$9$ 101:014,07[' ]| say, their tenants ought by$4$ custom to$9$ labour the lords' 101:014,08[' ]| lands, to$9$ gather and bring home their corns, and some 101:014,09[' ]| to$9$ thresh and to$9$ fan, and by$4$ servage to$9$ make their hay 101:014,10[' ]| and to$9$ hew their wood and bring it home. All these 101:014,11[' ]| things they ought to$9$ do by$4$ servage, and there be more 101:014,12[' ]| of these people in$4$ England than in$4$ any other realm. 101:014,13[' ]| Thus the noblemen and prelates are served by$4$ them, 101:014,14[' ]| and specially in$4$ the county of Kent, Essex, Sussex, 101:014,15[' ]| and Bedford. These unhappy people of these said 101:014,16[' ]| countries began to$9$ stir, because they said they were 101:014,17[' ]| kept in$4$ great servage, and in$4$ the beginning of the 101:014,18[' ]| world, they said, there were no$2$ bondmen, wherefore 101:014,19[' ]| they maintained that$3$ none ought to$9$ be bond, without 101:014,20[' ]| he did treason to$4$ his lord, as Lucifer did to$4$ God; but 101:014,21[' ]| they said they could have no$2$ such battle, for$3$ they were 101:014,22[' ]| neither angels nor spirits, but men formed to$4$ the 101:014,23[' ]| similitude of their lords, saying why should they then 101:014,24[' ]| be kept so$5#2$ under like$4$ beasts; the which$6#1$ they said they 101:014,25[' ]| would no$2$ longer suffer, for$3$ they would be all one, 101:014,26[' ]| and if they laboured or did anything for$4$ their lords, 101:015,01[' ]| they would have wages therefor as well as other. And 101:015,02[' ]| of this imagination was a foolish priest in$4$ the country 101:015,03[' ]| of Kent called John*Ball, for$4$ the which$6#1$ foolish words 101:015,04[' ]| he had been three times in$4$ the Bishop*of*Canterbury's 101:015,05[' ]| prison; for$3$ this priest used oftentimes on$4$ the Sundays 101:015,06[' ]| after mass, when the people were going out of the minster, 101:015,07[' ]| to$9$ go into the cloisters and preach, and made the 101:015,08[' ]| people to$9$ assemble about him, and would say thus: 101:015,08[X ]| ""Ah, 101:015,09[X ]| ye good people, the matters goeth not well to$9$ pass in$4$ 101:015,10[X ]| England, nor shall not do till everything be common, 101:015,11[X ]| and that$3$ there be no$2$ villains nor gentlemen, but that$3$ 101:015,12[X ]| we may be all united together, and that$3$ the lords be no$2$ 101:015,13[X ]| greater masters than we be. What have we deserved, 101:015,14[X ]| or why should we be kept thus in$4$ servage? We be 101:015,15[X ]| all come from one father and one mother, Adam and 101:015,16[X ]| Eve; whereby can they say or shew that$3$ they be 101:015,17[X ]| greater lords than we be, saving by$4$ that$6#2$ they cause us 101:015,18[X ]| to$9$ win and labour for$4$ that$6#2$ they dispend? They are 101:015,19[X ]| clothed in$4$ velvet and camlet furred with grise, and we 101:015,20[X ]| be vestured with poor cloth; they have their wines, 101:015,21[X ]| spices and good bread, and we have the drawing out of 101:015,22[X ]| the chaff and drink water; they dwell in$4$ fair houses, 101:015,23[X ]| and we have the pain and the travail, rain and wind in$4$ 101:015,24[X ]| the fields; and by$4$ that$6#2$ that$6#1$ cometh of our labours 101:015,25[X ]| they keep and maintain their estates; we be called 101:015,26[X ]| their bondmen, and without we do readily them service, 101:015,27[X ]| we be beaten; and we have no$2$ sovereign to$4$ whom we 101:015,28[X ]| may complain, nor that$6#1$ will$1$ hear us nor do us right. 101:015,29[X ]| Let us go to$4$ the king, he is young, and shew him what 101:015,30[X ]| servage we be in$4$, and shew him how we will$1$ have it 101:015,31[X ]| otherwise, or else we will$1$ provide us of some remedy; 101:015,32[X ]| and if we go together, all manner of people that$6#1$ be now 101:015,33[X ]| in$4$ any bondage will$1$ follow us to$4$ the intent to$9$ be made 101:015,34[X ]| free; and when the king seeth us, we shall have some 101:015,35[X ]| remedy, either by$4$ fairness or otherwise."" 101:015,35[' ]| Thus John*Ball 101:015,36[' ]| said on$4$ Sundays, when the people issued out of 101:015,37[' ]| the churches in$4$ the villages; wherefore many of the 101:015,38[' ]| mean people loved him, and such as intended to$4$ no$2$ 101:015,39[' ]| goodness said how he said truth; and so$3$ they would 101:015,40[' ]| murmur one with another in$4$ the fields and in$4$ the ways 101:016,01[' ]| as they went together, affirming how John*Ball said 101:016,02[' ]| truth. 101:016,03[' ]| The archbishop*of*Canterbury, who$6#1$ was informed of 101:016,04[' ]| the saying of this John*Ball, caused him to$9$ be taken 101:016,05[' ]| and put in$4$ prison a two or three months to$9$ chastise 101:016,06[' ]| him; howbeit it had been much better at the beginning 101:016,07[' ]| that$3$ he had been condemned to$4$ perpetual prison or 101:016,08[' ]| else to$9$ have died, rather than to$9$ have suffered him to$9$ 101:016,09[' ]| have been again delivered out of prison; but the bishop 101:016,10[' ]| had conscience to$9$ let him die. And when this John*Ball 101:016,11[' ]| was out of prison, he returned again to$4$ his error, 101:016,12[' ]| as he did before. 101:016,13[' ]| Of his words and deeds there were much people in$4$ 101:016,14[' ]| London informed, such as had great envy at them that$6#1$ 101:016,15[' ]| were rich and such as were noble; and then they 101:016,16[' ]| began to$9$ speak among them and said how the realm of 101:016,17[' ]| England was right evil governed, and how that$3$ gold 101:016,18[' ]| and silver was taken from them by$4$ them that$6#1$ were 101:016,19[' ]| named noblemen; so$3$ thus these unhappy men of 101:016,20[' ]| London began to$9$ rebel and assembled them together, 101:016,21[' ]| and sent word to$4$ the aforesaid countries that$3$ they 101:016,22[' ]| should come to$4$ London and bring their people with 101:016,23[' ]| them, promising them how they should find London 101:016,24[' ]| open to$9$ receive them and the commons of the city to$9$ 101:016,25[' ]| be of the same accord, saying how they would do so$5#1$ 101:016,26[' ]| much to$4$ the king that$3$ there should not be one bondman 101:016,27[' ]| in$4$ all England. 101:016,28[' ]| This promise moved so$5#2$ them of Kent, of Essex, of 101:016,29[' ]| Sussex, of Bedford and of the countries about, that$3$ 101:016,30[' ]| they rose and came towards London to$4$ the number of 101:016,31[' ]| sixty thousand. And they had a captain called Wat*Tyler, 101:016,32[' ]| and with him in$4$ company was Jack*Straw and 101:016,33[' ]| John*Ball; these three were chief sovereign captains, 101:016,34[' ]| but the head of all was Wat*Tyler, and he was indeed 101:016,35[' ]| a tiler of houses, an ungracious patron. When these 101:016,36[' ]| unhappy men began thus to$9$ stir, they of London, 101:016,37[' ]| except such as were of their band, were greatly 101:016,38[' ]| affrayed. Then the mayor of London, and the rich 101:016,39[' ]| men of the city took counsel together, and when they saw 101:017,01[' ]| the people thus coming on$4$ every side they caused the 101:017,02[' ]| gates of the city to$9$ be closed, and would suffer no$2$ man 101:017,03[' ]| to$9$ enter into the city. But when they had well 101:017,04[' ]| imagined, they advised not so$5#2$ to$9$ do, for$3$ they thought 101:017,05[' ]| they should thereby put their suburbs in$4$ great peril to$9$ 101:017,06[' ]| be brent; and so$3$ they opened again the city, and there 101:017,07[' ]| entered in$5$ at the gates in$4$ some place a hundred, two 101:017,08[' ]| hundred, by$4$ twenty and by$4$ thirty, and so$3$ when they 101:017,09[' ]| came to$4$ London, they entered and lodged; and yet of 101:017,10[' ]| truth the third part of these people could not tell what 101:017,11[' ]| to$9$ ask or demand, but followed each other like$4$ beasts, as 101:017,12[' ]| the shepherds did of old time, saying how they would go 101:017,13[' ]| conquer the Holy*Land, and at last all came to$4$ nothing. 101:017,14[' ]| In$4$ like$2$ wise these villains and poor people came to$4$ 101:017,15[' ]| London, a hundred mile off, sixty mile, fifty mile, forty 101:017,16[' ]| mile and twenty mile off, and from all countries about 101:017,17[' ]| London, but the most part came from the countries 101:017,18[' ]| before named, and as they came they demanded ever 101:017,19[' ]| for$4$ the king. The gentlemen of the countries, knights 101:017,20[' ]| and squires, began to$9$ doubt, when they saw the people 101:017,21[' ]| began to$9$ rebel; and though they were in$4$ doubt, it 101:017,22[' ]| was good reason; for$4$ a less occasion they might have 101:017,23[' ]| been affrayed. So$3$ the gentlemen drew together as 101:017,24[' ]| well as they might. 101:017,25[' ]| The same day that$6#1$ these unhappy people of Kent 101:017,26[' ]| were coming to$4$ London, there returned from Canterbury 101:017,27[' ]| the king's mother, princess*of*Wales, coming from her 101:017,28[' ]| pilgrimage. She was in$4$ great jeopardy to$9$ have been 101:017,29[' ]| lost, for$3$ these people came to$4$ her chare and dealt 101:017,30[' ]| rudely with her, whereof the good lady was in$4$ great 101:017,31[' ]| doubt lest they would have done some villany to$4$ her or 101:017,32[' ]| to$4$ her damosels. Howbeit, God kept her, and she 101:017,33[' ]| came in$4$ one day from Canterbury to$4$ London, for$3$ she 101:017,34[' ]| never durst tarry by$4$ the way. The same time king*Richard 101:017,35[' ]| her son was at the Tower*of*London; there 101:017,36[' ]| his mother found him, and with him there was the 101:017,37[' ]| earl*of*Salisbury, the archbishop*of*Canterbury, Sir*Robert*of*Namur, 101:017,38[' ]| the lord*of*Gommegnies and divers 101:017,39[' ]| other, who$6#1$ were in$4$ doubt of these people that$6#1$ thus 101:018,01[' ]| gathered together, and wist not what they demanded. 101:018,02[' ]| This rebellion was well known in$4$ the king's court, or 101:018,03[' ]| any of these people began to$9$ stir out of their houses; 101:018,04[' ]| but the king nor his council did provide no$2$ remedy 101:018,05[' ]| therefor, which$6#1$ was great marvel. ~~ 101:018,05[' ]| <\The Chronicles of\> 101:018,06[' ]| <\Froissart, translated.\> 201:184;00@@@@@| 201:184;10[' ]| Now since these dead bones have already out-lasted the 201:184;11[' ]| living ones of Methuselah, and in$4$ a yard under ground, and 201:184;12[' ]| thin walls of clay, out-worn all the strong and specious 201:184;13[' ]| buildings above it; and quietly rested under the drums and 201:184;14[' ]| tramplings of three conquests; what Prince can promise 201:184;15[' ]| such diuturnity unto his reliques, or might not gladly say, 201:184;16[Z ]| \7Sie 7ego 7componi 7versus 7in 7ossa 7velim.\ 201:184;17[' ]| Time, which$6#1$ antiquates Antiquities and hath an art to$9$ make 201:184;18[' ]| dust of all things, hath yet spared these minor monuments. 201:184;19[' ]| In$4$ vain we hope to$9$ be known by$4$ open and visible 201:184;19[' ]| conservatories, when to$9$ be unknown was the means of their continuation 201:184;20[' ]| and obscurity their protection: If they died by$4$ 201:184;21[' ]| violent hands, and were thrust into their urns, these bones 201:184;22[' ]| become considerable, and some old philosophers would honour 201:184;23[' ]| them, whose souls they conceived most pure, which$6#1$ were thus 201:184;24[' ]| snatched from their bodies; and to$9$ retain a stronger propension 201:184;25[' ]| unto them; whereas they weariedly left a languishing 201:184;26[' ]| corpse, and with faint desires of re-union. If they fell by$4$ 201:184;27[' ]| long and aged decay, yet wrapt up$5$ in$4$ the bundle of time, 201:184;28[' ]| they fall into indistinction, and make but one blot with infants. 201:184;29[' ]| If we begin to$9$ die when we live, and long life be but a 201:184;30[' ]| prolongation of death; our life is a sad composition; we 201:184;31[' ]| live with death, and die not in$4$ a moment. How many pulses 201:184;32[' ]| made up$5$ the life of Methuselah, were work for$4$ Archimedes: 201:184;33[' ]| common counters sum up$5$ the life of Moses his man. Our 201:184;34[' ]| days become considerable like$4$ petty sums by$4$ minute accumulations; 201:184;35[' ]| where numerous fractions make up$5$ but small 201:184;36[' ]| round numbers; and our days of a span long make not one 201:184;37[' ]| little finger. 201:184;38[' ]| If the nearness of our last necessity, brought a nearer conformity 201:184;39[' ]| into it, there were a happiness in$4$ hoary hairs, and 201:185;01[' ]| no$2$ calamity in$4$ half senses. But the long habit of living 201:185;02[' ]| indisposeth us for$4$ dying; when avarice makes us the sport of 201:185;03[' ]| death; when even David grew politicly cruel and Solomon 201:185;04[' ]| could hardly be said to$9$ be the wisest of men. But many are 201:185;05[' ]| too early old, and before the date of age. Adversity 201:185;06[' ]| stretcheth our days, misery makes Alcmena's nights, and 201:185;07[' ]| time hath no$2$ wings unto it. But the most tedious being is 201:185;08[' ]| that$6#2$ which$6#1$ can unwish itself, content to$9$ be nothing, or never 201:185;09[' ]| to$9$ have been, which$6#1$ was beyond the malcontent of Job, who$6#1$ 201:185;10[' ]| cursed not the day of his life, but his nativity: content to$9$ 201:185;11[' ]| have so$5#1$ far been, as to$9$ have a title to$4$ future being; 201:185;12[' ]| although he had lived here but in$4$ an hidden state of life, 201:185;13[' ]| and as it were an abortion. 201:185;14[' ]| What Song the Syrens sang, or what name Achilles 201:185;15[' ]| assumed when he hid himself among women, though puzzling 201:185;16[' ]| questions, are not beyond all conjecture. What time the 201:185;17[' ]| persons of these ossuaries entered the famous nations of the 201:185;18[' ]| dead, and slept with princes and counsellors, might admit a 201:185;19[' ]| wide solution. But who$6#1$ were the proprietaries of these bones, 201:185;20[' ]| or what bodies these ashes made up$5$, were a question above 201:185;21[' ]| antiquarism. Not to$9$ be resolved by$4$ man nor easily perhaps 201:185;22[' ]| by$4$ spirits, except we consult the provincial Guardians or 201:185;23[' ]| tutelary Observators. Had they made as good provision for$4$ 201:185;24[' ]| their names as they have done for$4$ their reliques, they had not 201:185;25[' ]| so$5#1$ grossly erred in$4$ the art of perpetuation. But to$9$ subsist in$4$ 201:185;26[' ]| bones, and be but pyramidally extant, is a fallacy in$4$ duration. 201:185;27[' ]| Vain ashes, which$6#1$ in$4$ the oblivion of names, persons times, 201:185;28[' ]| and sexes, have found unto themselves, a fruitless continuation, 201:185;29[' ]| and only arise unto late posterity, as emblems of 201:185;30[' ]| mortal vanities; antidotes against pride, vain-glory, and 201:185;31[' ]| madding vices. Pagan vain-glories which$6#1$ thought the world 201:185;32[' ]| might last for*ever, had encouragement for$4$ ambition, and, 201:185;33[' ]| finding no$2$ Atropos unto the immortality of their names, were 201:185;34[' ]| never damped with the necessity of oblivion. Even old ambitions 201:185;35[' ]| had the advantage of ours, in$4$ the attempts of their vain-glories, 201:185;36[' ]| who$6#1$ acting early, and before the probable meridian 201:185;37[' ]| of time, have by$4$ this time found great accomplishment of their 201:185;38[' ]| designs, whereby the ancient heroes have already out-lasted 201:185;39[' ]| their monuments, and mechanical preservations. But in$4$ this 201:185;40[' ]| latter scene of time, we cannot expect such mummies unto 201:186;01[' ]| our memories, when ambition may fear the prophecy of 201:186;02[' ]| Elias, and Charles*the*Fifth can never hope to$9$ live within 201:186;03[' ]| two Methuselahs of Hector. 201:186;04[' ]| And therefore restless inquietude for$4$ the diuturnity of our 201:186;05[' ]| memories unto present considerations, seems a vanity almost 201:186;06[' ]| out of date, and superannuated piece of folly. We cannot 201:186;07[' ]| hope to$9$ live so$5#1$ long in$4$ our names, as some have done in$4$ 201:186;08[' ]| their persons, one face of Janus holds no$2$ proportion unto the 201:186;09[' ]| other. It is too late to$9$ be ambitious. The great mutations of 201:186;10[' ]| the world are acted, or time may be too short for$4$ our 201:186;11[' ]| designs. To$9$ extend our memories by$4$ monuments, whose 201:186;12[' ]| death we daily pray for$4$, and whose duration we cannot hope, 201:186;13[' ]| without injury to$4$ our expectations, in$4$ the advent of the last 201:186;14[' ]| day, were a contradiction to$4$ our beliefs. We whose generations 201:186;15[' ]| are ordained in$4$ this setting part of time, are providentially 201:186;16[' ]| taken off from such imaginations; and being 201:186;17[' ]| necessitated to$9$ eye the remaining particle of futurity, are 201:186;18[' ]| naturally constituted unto thoughts of the next world, and 201:186;19[' ]| cannot excusably decline the consideration of that$6#2$ duration, 201:186;20[' ]| which$6#1$ maketh Pyramids pillars of snow, and all that$6#1$ is past 201:186;21[' ]| a moment. 201:186;22[' ]| Circles and right lines limit and close all bodies, and 201:186;23[' ]| the mortal right-lined circle must conclude and shut up$5$ all. 201:186;24[' ]| There is no$2$ antidote against the opium of time, which$6#1$ temporally 201:186;25[' ]| considereth all things; our fathers find their graves 201:186;26[' ]| in$4$ our short memories, and sadly tell us how we may be 201:186;27[' ]| buried in$4$ our survivors. Grave-stones tell truth scarce forty 201:186;28[' ]| years. Generations pass while some trees stand, and old 201:186;29[' ]| families last not three oaks. To$9$ be read by$4$ bare inscriptions 201:186;30[' ]| like$4$ many in$4$ Gruter, to$9$ hope for$4$ Eternity by$4$ enigmatical 201:186;31[' ]| epithets or first letters of our names, to$9$ be studied by$4$ 201:186;32[' ]| antiquaries, who$6#1$ we were, and have new names given us like$4$ 201:186;33[' ]| many of the mummies, are cold consolations unto the students 201:186;34[' ]| of perpetuity even by$4$ everlasting languages. 201:186;35[' ]| To$9$ be content that$3$ times to$9$ come should only know there 201:186;36[' ]| was such a man, not caring whether they knew more of him, 201:186;37[' ]| was a frigid ambition in$4$ Cardan: disparaging his horoscopal 201:186;38[' ]| inclination and judgment of himself, who$6#1$ cares to$9$ subsist like$4$ 201:187;01[' ]| Hippocrates' patients, or Achilles' horses in$4$ Homer, under 201:187;02[' ]| naked nominations, without deserts and noble acts, which$6#1$ are 201:187;03[' ]| the balsam of our memories, the Entelechia and soul of our 201:187;04[' ]| subsistences. To$9$ be nameless in$4$ worthy deeds exceeds an 201:187;05[' ]| infamous history. The Canaanitish woman lives more happily 201:187;06[' ]| without a name, than Herodias with one. And who$6#2$ had not 201:187;07[' ]| rather have been the good thief, than Pilate? 201:187;08[' ]| But the iniquity of oblivion blindly scattereth her poppy, 201:187;09[' ]| and deals with the memory of men without distinction to$9$ 201:187;10[' ]| merit of perpetuity. Who$6#2$ can but pity the founder of the 201:187;11[' ]| Pyramids? Herostratus lives that$6#1$ burnt the Temple of 201:187;12[' ]| Diana, he is almost lost that$6#1$ built it; Time hath spared the 201:187;13[' ]| epitaph of Adrian's horse, confounded that$6#2$ of himself. In$4$ 201:187;14[' ]| vain we compute our felicities by$4$ the advantage of our good 201:187;15[' ]| names, since bad have equal durations; and Thersites is 201:187;16[' ]| like$5$ to$9$ live as long as Agamemnon. Who$6#2$ knows whether 201:187;17[' ]| the best of men be known? or whether there be not more 201:187;18[' ]| remarkable persons forgot, than any that$6#1$ stand remembered 201:187;19[' ]| in$4$ the known account of time? Without the favour of the 201:187;20[' ]| everlasting register, the first man had been as unknown as 201:187;21[' ]| the last, and Methuselah's long life had been his only chronicle. 201:187;22[' ]| Oblivion is not to$9$ be hired: The greater part must be 201:187;23[' ]| the register of God, not in$4$ the record of man. Twenty-seven 201:187;24[' ]| names make up$5$ the first story before the flood, and the recorded 201:187;25[' ]| names ever since contain not one living century. 201:187;26[' ]| The number of the dead long exceedeth all that$6#1$ shall live. 201:187;27[' ]| The night of time far surpasseth the day, and who$6#2$ knows 201:187;28[' ]| when was the A*Equinox? Every hour adds unto that$6#2$ 201:187;29[' ]| current Arithmetic which$6#1$ scarce stands one moment. And 201:187;30[' ]| since death must be the Lucina of life, and even Pagans 201:187;31[' ]| could doubt, whether thus to$9$ live, were to$9$ die. Since our 201:187;32[' ]| longest sun sets at right descensions, and makes but winter 201:187;33[' ]| arches, and therefore it cannot be long before we lie down 201:187;34[' ]| in$4$ darkness, and have our light in$4$ ashes. Since the brother 201:187;35[' ]| of death daily haunts us with dying memento's, and time 201:187;36[' ]| that$6#1$ grows old in$4$ it*self, bids us hope no$2$ long duration: 201:187;37[' ]| diuturnity is a dream and folly of expectation. 201:188;01[' ]| Darkness and light divide the course of time, and oblivion 201:188;02[' ]| shares with memory, a great part even of our living beings; 201:188;03[' ]| we slightly remembered our felicities, and the smartest strokes 201:188;04[' ]| of affliction leave but short smart upon$4$ us. Sense endureth 201:188;05[' ]| no$2$ extremities, and sorrows destroy us or themselves. 201:188;06[' ]| To$9$ weep into stones are fables. Afflictions induce callosities, 201:188;07[' ]| miseries are slippery, or fall like$4$ snow upon$4$ us, which$6#1$ 201:188;08[' ]| notwithstanding is no$2$ unhappy stupidity. To$9$ be ignorant of 201:188;09[' ]| evils to$9$ come, and forgetful of evils past, is a merciful 201:188;10[' ]| provision in$4$ nature, whereby we digest the mixture of our 201:188;11[' ]| few and evil days, and our delivered senses not relapsing 201:188;12[' ]| into cutting remembrances, our sorrows are not kept raw by$4$ 201:188;13[' ]| the edge of repetitions. A great part of Antiquity contented 201:188;14[' ]| their hopes of susbistency with a transmigration of their souls. 201:188;15[' ]| A good way to$9$ continue their memories, while having the 201:188;16[' ]| advantage of plural successions, they could not but act something 201:188;17[' ]| remarkable in$4$ such variety of beings, and enjoying 201:188;18[' ]| the fame of their passed selves, make accumulation of glory 201:188;19[' ]| unto their last durations. Others, rather than be lost in$4$ 201:188;20[' ]| the uncomfortable night of nothing, were content to$9$ recede 201:188;21[' ]| into the common being, and make one particle of the public 201:188;22[' ]| soul of all things, which$6#1$ was no$2$ more than to$9$ return into their 201:188;23[' ]| unknown and divine Original again. A*Egyptian ingenuity 201:188;24[' ]| was more unsatisfied, contriving their bodies in$4$ sweet consistencies, 201:188;25[' ]| to$9$ attend the return of their souls. But all was 201:188;26[' ]| vanity feeding the winde, and folly. The A*Egyptian mummies, 201:188;27[' ]| which$6#1$ Cambyses or time hath spared, avarice now consumeth. 201:188;28[' ]| Mummy is become merchandise, Mizraim cures wounds, 201:188;29[' ]| and Pharaoh is sold for$4$ balsams. 201:188;30[' ]| In$4$ vain do individuals hope for$4$ Immortality, or any patent 201:188;31[' ]| from oblivion, in$4$ preservations below the Moon: Men have 201:188;32[' ]| been deceived even in$4$ their flatteries above the Sun, and 201:188;33[' ]| studied conceits to$9$ perpetuate their names in$4$ heaven. The 201:188;34[' ]| various cosmography of that$6#2$ part hath already varied the 201:188;35[' ]| names of contrived constellations; Nimrod is lost in$4$ Orion, 201:188;36[' ]| and Osris in$4$ the Dog-star. While we look for$4$ incorruption in$4$ 201:188;37[' ]| the heavens, we find they are but like$4$ the Earth; durable in$4$ 201:188;38[' ]| their main bodies, alterable in$4$ their parts; whereof beside 201:188;39[' ]| Comets and new Stars, perspectives begin to$9$ tell tales. And 201:188;40[' ]| the spots that$6#1$ wander about the Sun, with Phaeton's favour, 201:188;41[' ]| would make clear conviction. 201:188;42[' ]| There is nothing strictly immortal, but immortality; whatever 201:188;43[' ]| hath no$2$ beginning, may be confident of no$2$ end ~~ which$6#1$ 201:188;44[' ]| is the peculiar of that$6#2$ necessary essence that$6#1$ cannot destroy 201:188;45[' ]| itself; and the highest strain of omnipotency, to$9$ be so$5#1$ 201:188;46[' ]| powerfully constituted as not to$9$ suffer even from the power 201:189;01[' ]| of itself. All others have a dependent being, and within the 201:189;02[' ]| reach of destruction; but the sufficiency of Christian immortality 201:189;03[' ]| frustrates all earthly glory, and the quality of either 201:189;04[' ]| state after death makes a folly of posthumous memory. God, 201:189;05[' ]| who$6#1$ can only destroy our souls, and hath assured our resurrection, 201:189;06[' ]| either of our bodies or names, hath directly promised 201:189;07[' ]| no$2$ duration. Wherein there is so$5#1$ much of chance, that$3$ 201:189;08[' ]| the boldest expectants have found unhappy frustration; and 201:189;09[' ]| to$9$ hold long subsistence, seems but a scape in$4$ oblivion. 201:189;10[' ]| But man is a noble animal, splendid in$4$ ashes and pompous 201:189;11[' ]| in$4$ the grave, solemnizing nativities and deaths with equal 201:189;12[' ]| lustre, nor omitting ceremonies of bravery in$4$ the infamy of 201:189;13[' ]| his nature. 201:189;14[' ]| Life is a pure flame, and we lived by$4$ an invisible Sun 201:189;15[' ]| within us. A small fire sufficeth for$4$ life, great flames 201:189;16[' ]| seemed too little after death, while men vainly affected 201:189;17[' ]| precious pyres, and to$9$ burn like$4$ Sardanapalus. But the 201:189;18[' ]| wisdom of funeral laws found the folly of prodigal blazes, 201:189;19[' ]| and reduced undoing fires unto the rule of sober obsequies, 201:189;20[' ]| wherein few could be so$5#1$ mean as not to$9$ provide wood, 201:189;21[' ]| pitch, a mourner, and an urn. 201:189;22[' ]| Five languages secured not the epitaph of Gordianus. The 201:189;23[' ]| man of God lives longer without a tomb than any by$4$ one, 201:189;24[' ]| invisibly interred by$4$ Angels, and adjudged to$4$ obscurity, 201:189;25[' ]| though not without some marks directing human discovery. 201:189;26[' ]| Enoch and Elias, without either tomb or burial in$4$ an anomalous 201:189;27[' ]| state of being, are the great examples of perpetuity, in$4$ 201:189;28[' ]| their long and living memory, in$4$ strict account being still on$4$ 201:189;29[' ]| this side death, and having a late part yet to$9$ act upon$4$ this 201:189;30[' ]| stage of earth. If in$4$ the decretory term of the world we 201:189;31[' ]| shall not all die but be changed, according to$4$ received translation: 201:189;32[' ]| the last day will$1$ make but few graves; at least quick 201:189;33[' ]| resurrections will$1$ anticipate lasting sepultures. Some Graves 201:189;34[' ]| will$1$ be opened before they be quite closed, and Lazarus be 201:189;35[' ]| no$2$ wonder. When many that$6#1$ feared to$9$ die, shall groan that$3$ 201:189;36[' ]| they can die but once, the dismal state is the second and 201:189;37[' ]| living death, when life puts despair on$4$ the damned; when 201:189;38[' ]| men shall wish the coverings of mountains, not of monuments, 201:189;39[' ]| and annihilations shall be courted. 201:189;40[' ]| While some have studied monuments, others have studiously 201:189;41[' ]| declined them: and some have been so$5#1$ vainly boisterous, 201:189;42[' ]| that$3$ they durst not acknowledge their graves; wherein Alaricus 201:189;43[' ]| seems most subtle, who$6#1$ had a river turned to$9$ hide his 201:189;44[' ]| bones at the bottom. Even Sylla that$6#1$ thought himself safe 201:189;45[' ]| in$4$ his urn, could not prevent revenging tongues, and stones 201:189;46[' ]| thrown at his monument. Happy are they whom privacy 201:190;01[' ]| makes innocent, who$6#1$ deal so$5#2$ with men in$4$ this world, that$3$ 201:190;02[' ]| they are not afraid to$9$ meet them in$4$ the next, who$6#1$ when 201:190;03[' ]| they die, make no$2$ commotion among the dead, and are not 201:190;04[' ]| touched with that$6#2$ poetical taunt of Isaiah. 201:190;05[' ]| Pyramids, Arches, Obelisks, were but the irregularities of 201:190;06[' ]| vain-glory, and wild enormities of ancient magnanimity. But 201:190;07[' ]| the most magnanimous resolution rests in$4$ the Christian Religion, 201:190;08[' ]| which$6#1$ trampleth upon$4$ pride, and sits on$4$ the neck of 201:190;09[' ]| ambition, humbly pursuing that$6#2$ infallible perpetuity, unto 201:190;10[' ]| which$6#1$ all others must diminish their diameters, and be 201:190;11[' ]| poorly seen in$4$ angles of contingency. 201:190;12[' ]| Pious spirits who$6#1$ passed their days in$4$ raptures of futurity, 201:190;13[' ]| made little more of this world, than the world that$6#1$ was 201:190;14[' ]| before it, while they lay obscure in$4$ the Chaos of pre-ordination, 201:190;15[' ]| and night of their fore-beings. And if any have been so$5#1$ 201:190;16[' ]| happy as truly to$9$ understand Christian annihilation, extasis, 201:190;17[' ]| exolution, liquefaction, transformation, the kiss of the Spouse, 201:190;18[' ]| gustation of God, and ingression into the divine shadow, they 201:190;19[' ]| have already had an handsome anticipation of heaven; the 201:190;20[' ]| glory of the world, is surely over, and the earth in$4$ ashes 201:190;21[' ]| unto them. 201:190;22[' ]| To$9$ subsist in$4$ lasting Monuments, to$9$ live in$4$ their productions, 201:190;23[' ]| to$9$ exist in$4$ their names, and predicament of chimeras, 201:190;24[' ]| was large satisfaction unto old expectations, and made one 201:190;25[' ]| part of their Elysiums. But all this is nothing in$4$ the Metaphysics 201:190;26[' ]| of true belief. To$9$ live indeed is to$9$ be again ourselves, 201:190;27[' ]| which$6#1$ being not only an hope but an evidence in$4$ 201:190;28[' ]| noble believers; it is all one to$9$ lie in$4$ St%*Innocents churchyard, 201:190;29[' ]| as in$4$ the Sands of A*Egypt; Ready to$9$ be anything, in$4$ the 201:190;30[' ]| ecstasy of being ever, and as content with six foot as the 201:190;31[' ]| Moles of Adrianus. 201:105;00@@@@@| 201:105;00[' ]| 201:105;00[' ]| <1628-1688> 201:105;00[' ]| 201:105;01[I ]| THEN I SAW in$4$ my dream, that$3$ when they were got 201:105;02[I ]| out of the wilderness, they presently saw a town before 201:105;03[I ]| them, and the name of that$6#2$ town is \Vanity\; and at the 201:105;04[I ]| town there is a fair kept, called \Vanity*Fair\: it is kept 201:105;05[I ]| all the year long; it beareth the name of \Vanity*Fair\, 201:105;06[I ]| because the town where it is kept is lighter than 201:105;07[I ]| vanity; and also because all that$6#1$ is there sold, or that$6#1$ 201:105;08[I ]| cometh thither, is vanity. As is the saying of the 201:105;09[I ]| wise, \all that$6#1$ cometh is vanity\. 201:105;10[I ]| This fair is no$2$ new-erected business, but a thing of 201:105;11[I ]| ancient standing; I will$1$ shew you the original of it. 201:105;12[' ]| Almost five thousand years agone, there were pilgrims 201:105;13[' ]| walking to$4$ the \Celestial*City\, as these two honest persons 201:105;14[' ]| are: and \Beelzebub, Apollyon\, and \Legion\, with their 201:105;15[' ]| companions, perceiving by$4$ the path that$6#1$ the pilgrims 201:105;16[' ]| made, that$3$ their way to$4$ the city lay through this town 201:105;17[' ]| of \Vanity\, they contrived here to$9$ set up$5$ a fair; a fair 201:105;18[' ]| wherein should be sold all sorts of vanity, and that$3$ it 201:105;19[' ]| should last all the year long: therefore at this fair 201:106;01[' ]| are all such merchandise sold, as houses, lands, trades, 201:106;02[' ]| places, honours, preferments, titles, countries, kingdoms, 201:106;03[' ]| lusts, pleasures, and delights of all sorts, as 201:106;04[' ]| whores, bawds, wives, husbands, children, masters, 201:106;05[' ]| servants, lives, blood, bodies, souls, silver, gold, pearls, 201:106;06[' ]| precious stones, and what not. 201:106;07[' ]| And, moreover, at this fair there is at all times to$9$ be 201:106;08[' ]| seen juggling cheats, games, plays, fools, apes, knaves, 201:106;09[' ]| and rogues, and that$6#2$ of every kind. 201:106;10[' ]| Here are to$9$ be seen, too, and that$6#2$ for$4$ nothing, thefts, 201:106;11[' ]| murders, adulteries, false swearers, and that$6#2$ of a blood-red 201:106;12[' ]| colour. 201:106;13[' ]| And, as in$4$ other fairs of less moment, there are the 201:106;14[' ]| several rows and streets, under their proper names, 201:106;15[' ]| where such and such wares are vended; so$3$ here likewise 201:106;16[' ]| you have the proper places, rows, streets, (viz%, 201:106;17[' ]| countries and kingdoms,) where the wares of this fair 201:106;18[' ]| are soonest to$9$ be found. Here is the \Britain*Row\, the 201:106;19[' ]| \French*Row\, the \Italian*Row\, the \Spanish*Row\, the 201:106;20[' ]| \German*Row\, where several sorts of vanities are to$9$ be 201:106;21[' ]| sold. But, as in$4$ other fairs, some one commodity is 201:106;22[' ]| as the chief of all the fair, so$3$ the ware of \Rome\, and her 201:106;23[' ]| merchandise is greatly promoted in$4$ this fair; only our 201:106;24[' ]| \English\ nation, with some others, have taken a dislike 201:106;25[' ]| thereat. 201:106;26[' ]| Now, 201:106;26[I ]| as I said, 201:106;26[' ]| the way to$4$ the \Celestial*City\ lies just 201:106;27[' ]| through this town where this lusty fair is kept; and 201:106;28[' ]| he that$6#1$ will$1$ go to$4$ the city, and yet not got through this 201:106;29[' ]| town, must needs \go out of the world\. The Prince of 201:106;30[' ]| princes himself, when here, went through this town to$4$ 201:106;31[' ]| his own country, and that$6#2$ upon$4$ a fair day too; yea, 201:106;32[' ]| and 201:106;32[I ]| as I think, 201:106;32[' ]| it was \Beelzebub\, the chief lord of this 201:106;33[' ]| fair, that$6#1$ invited him to$9$ buy of his vanities; yea, 201:106;34[' ]| would have made him lord of the fair, would he but 201:106;35[' ]| have done him reverence as he went through the town. 201:106;36[' ]| Yea, beacause he was such a person of honour, \Beelzebub\ 201:106;37[' ]| had him from street to$4$ street, and showed him all the 201:106;38[' ]| kingdoms of the world in$4$ a little time, that$3$ he might, 201:106;39[' ]| if possible, allure the Blessed*One to$9$ cheapen and 201:106;40[' ]| buy some of his vanities; but he had no$2$ mind to$4$ the 201:107;01[' ]| merchandise, and therefore left the town, without laying 201:107;02[' ]| out so$5#1$ much as one farthing upon$4$ these vanities. 201:107;03[' ]| This fair, therefore, is an ancient thing, of long standing, 201:107;04[' ]| and a very great fair. Now these pilgrims, 201:107;04[I ]| as I 201:107;05[I ]| said, 201:107;05[' ]| must needs go through this fair. Well, so$5#2$ they 201:107;06[' ]| did: but, behold, even as they entered into the fair, 201:107;07[' ]| all the people in$4$ the fair were moved, and the town 201:107;08[' ]| itself as it were in$4$ a hubbub about them; and that$3$ for$4$ 201:107;09[' ]| several reasons: for$3$ ~~ 201:107;10[' ]| \First\, The pilgrims were clothed with such kind of 201:107;11[' ]| raiment as was diverse from the raiment of any that$6#1$ 201:107;12[' ]| traded in$4$ that$6#2$ fair. The people therefore, of the fair, 201:107;13[' ]| made a great gazing upon$4$ them: some said they were 201:107;14[' ]| fools, some they were bedlams, and some they are 201:107;15[' ]| outlandish men. 201:107;16[' ]| \Secondly\, And as they wondered at their apparel, so$3$ 201:107;17[' ]| they did likewise at their speech; for$3$ few could understand 201:107;18[' ]| what they said; they naturally spoke the language 201:107;19[' ]| of Canaan, but they that$6#1$ kept the fair were the men of 201:107;20[' ]| this world; so$3$ that$3$, from one end of the fair to$4$ the 201:107;21[' ]| other, they seemed barbarians each to$4$ the other. 201:107;22[' ]| \Thirdly\, But that$6#2$ which$6#1$ did not a little amuse the 201:107;23[' ]| merchandisers was, that$3$ these pilgrims set very light 201:107;24[' ]| by$4$ all their wares; they cared not so$5#1$ much as to$9$ look 201:107;25[' ]| upon$4$ them; and if they called upon$4$ them to$9$ buy, they 201:107;26[' ]| would put their fingers in$4$ their ears, and cry, \Turn\ 201:107;27[' ]| \away mine eyes from beholding vanity\, and look upwards, 201:107;28[' ]| signifying that$3$ their trade and traffic was in$4$ heaven. 201:107;29[' ]| One chanced mockingly, beholding the carriage of 201:107;30[' ]| the men, to$9$ say unto them, 201:107;30[X ]| What will$1$ ye buy? 201:107;30[' ]| But 201:107;31[' ]| they, looking gravely upon$4$ him, answered, 201:107;31[Y ]| \We buy the\ 201:107;32[Y ]| \truth\. 201:107;32[' ]| At that$6#2$ there was an occasion taken to$9$ despise 201:107;33[' ]| the men the more; some mocking, some taunting, 201:107;34[' ]| some speaking reproachfully, and some calling upon$4$ 201:107;35[' ]| others to$9$ smite them. At last things came to$4$ a 201:107;36[' ]| hubbub and great stir in$4$ the fair, insomuch that$3$ all 201:107;37[' ]| order was confounded. Now was word presently 201:107;38[' ]| brought to$4$ the great one of the fair, who$6#1$ quickly came 201:107;39[' ]| down, and deputed some of his most trusty friends to$9$ 201:107;40[' ]| take these men into examination, about whom the fair 201:108;01[' ]| was almost overturned. So$3$ the men were brought to$4$ 201:108;02[' ]| examination; and they that$6#1$ sat upon$4$ them, asked 201:108;03[' ]| them whence they came, whither they went, and what 201:108;04[' ]| they did there, in$4$ such an unusual garb? The men 201:108;05[' ]| told them that$3$ they were pilgrims and strangers in$4$ the 201:108;06[' ]| world, and they they were going to$4$ their own country, 201:108;07[' ]| which$6#1$ was the heavenly \Jerusalem\, and that$3$ they had 201:108;08[' ]| given no$2$ occasion to$4$ the men of the town, nor yet to$4$ 201:108;09[' ]| the merchandisers, thus to$9$ abuse them, and to$9$ let 201:108;10[' ]| them in$4$ their journey, except it was for$3$ that$3$, when 201:108;11[' ]| one asked them what they would buy, they said they 201:108;12[' ]| would buy the truth. But they that$6#1$ were appointed 201:108;13[' ]| to$9$ examine them did not believe them to$9$ be any other 201:108;14[' ]| than bedlams and mad, or else such as came to$9$ put all 201:108;15[' ]| things into a confusion in$4$ the fair. Therefore they 201:108;16[' ]| took them and beat them, and besmeared them with 201:108;17[' ]| dirt, and then put them into the cage, that$3$ they might 201:108;18[' ]| be made a spectacle to$4$ all the men of the fair. 201:108;19[' ]| Behold \Vanity*Fair!\ the pilgrims there 201:108;20[' ]| Are chain'd and stand beside: 201:108;21[' ]| Even so$5#2$ it was our Lord pass'd here, 201:108;22[' ]| And on$4$ Mount*Calvary died. 201:108;23[' ]| There, therefore, they lay for$4$ some time, and were 201:108;24[' ]| made the objects of any man's sport, or malice, or 201:108;25[' ]| revenge, the great one of the fair laughing still at all 201:108;26[' ]| that$6#1$ befell them. But the men being patient, and not 201:108;27[' ]| rendering railing for$4$ railing, but contrariwise, blessing, 201:108;28[' ]| and giving good words for$4$ bad, and kindness for$4$ 201:108;29[' ]| injuries done, some men in$4$ the fair that$6#1$ were more 201:108;30[' ]| observing, and less prejudiced than the rest, began 201:108;31[' ]| to$9$ check and blame the baser sort for$4$ their continual 201:108;32[' ]| abuses done by$4$ them to$4$ the men; they, therefore, in$4$ 201:108;33[' ]| angry manner, let fly at them again, counting them 201:108;34[' ]| as bad as the men in$4$ the cage, and telling them that$3$ 201:108;35[' ]| they seemed confederates, and should be made partakers 201:108;36[' ]| of their misfortunes. The other replied that$3$, 201:108;37[' ]| for$4$ aught they could see, the men were quiet, and 201:108;38[' ]| sober, and intended nobody any harm; and that$3$ there 201:109;01[' ]| were many that$6#1$ traded in$4$ their fair that$6#1$ were more 201:109;02[' ]| worthy to$9$ be put into the cage, yea, and pillory too, 201:109;03[' ]| than were the men they had abused. Thus, after 201:109;04[' ]| divers words had passed on$4$ both sides, the men 201:109;05[' ]| behaving themselves all the while very wisely and 201:109;06[' ]| soberly before them, they fell to$4$ some blows among 201:109;07[' ]| themselves, and did harm one to$4$ another. Then were 201:109;08[' ]| these two poor men brought before their examiners 201:109;09[' ]| again, and there charged as being guilty of the late 201:109;10[' ]| hubbub that$6#1$ had been in$4$ the fair. So$3$ they beat them 201:109;11[' ]| pitifully, and hanged irons upon$4$ them, and led them 201:109;12[' ]| in$4$ chains up$4$ and down the fair, for$4$ an example and 201:109;13[' ]| a terror to$4$ others, lest any should speak in$4$ their behalf, 201:109;14[' ]| or join themselves unto them. But \Christian\ 201:109;15[' ]| and \Faithful\ behaved themselves yet more wisely, and 201:109;16[' ]| received the ignominy and shame that$6#1$ was cast upon$4$ 201:109;17[' ]| them, with so$5#1$ much meekness and patience, that$3$ it 201:109;18[' ]| won to$4$ their side, though but few in$4$ comparison of 201:109;19[' ]| the rest, several of the men in$4$ the fair. This put the 201:109;20[' ]| other party yet into greater rage, insomuch that$3$ they 201:109;21[' ]| concluded the death of these two men. Wherefore 201:109;22[' ]| they threatened, that$3$ the cage nor irons should serve 201:109;23[' ]| their turn, but that$3$ they should die, for$4$ the abuse they 201:109;24[' ]| had done, and for$4$ deluding the men of the fair. 201:109;25[' ]| Then were they remanded to$4$ the cage again, until 201:109;26[' ]| further order should be taken with them. So$3$ they 201:109;27[' ]| put them in$5$, and made their feet fast in$4$ the stocks. 201:109;28[' ]| Here, therefore, they called again to$4$ mind what 201:109;29[' ]| they had heard from their faithful friend \Evangelist\, 201:109;30[' ]| and were the more confirmed in$4$ their way and 201:109;31[' ]| sufferings by$4$ what he told them would happen to$4$ 201:109;32[' ]| them. They also now comforted each other, that$3$ 201:109;33[' ]| whose lot it was to$9$ suffer, even he should have the 201:109;34[' ]| best of it; therefore each man secretly wished that$3$ he 201:109;35[' ]| might have that$6#2$ preferment: but committing themselves 201:109;36[' ]| to$4$ the all-wise disposal of Him that$6#1$ ruleth all 201:109;37[' ]| things, with much content, they abode in$4$ the condition 201:109;38[' ]| in$4$ which$6#1$ they were, until they should be otherwise disposed 201:109;39[' ]| of. 201:109;40[' ]| Then a convenient time being appointed, they brought 201:110;01[' ]| them forth to$4$ their trial, in$4$ order to$4$ their condemnation. 201:110;02[' ]| When the time was come, they were brought before 201:110;03[' ]| their enemies and arraigned. The judge's name was 201:110;04[' ]| Lord*Hate-good. Their indictment was one and the 201:110;05[' ]| same in$4$ substance, though somewhat varying in$4$ form, 201:110;06[' ]| the contents whereof were this: ~~ 201:110;07[' ]| ""That$3$ they were enemies to$4$ and disturbers of their 201:110;08[' ]| trade; that$3$ they had made commotions and divisions 201:110;09[' ]| in$4$ the town, and had won a party to$4$ their own most 201:110;10[' ]| dangerous opinions, in$4$ contempt of the law of their 201:110;11[' ]| prince."" 201:110;12[' ]| Now, \Faithful\, play the man, speak for$4$ thy God: 201:110;13[' ]| Fear not the wickeds' malice, nor their rod! 201:110;14[' ]| Speak boldly, man, the truth is on$4$ thy side: 201:110;15[' ]| Die for$4$ it, and to$4$ life in$4$ triumph ride. 201:110;16[' ]| Then \Faithful\ began to$9$ answer, that$3$ he had only set 201:110;17[' ]| himself against that$6#2$ which$6#1$ hath set itself against Him 201:110;18[' ]| that$6#1$ is higher than the highest. And, said he, as for$4$ 201:110;19[' ]| disturbance, I make none, being myself a man of peace; 201:110;20[' ]| the parties that$6#1$ were won to$4$ us, were won by$4$ beholding 201:110;21[' ]| our truth and innocence, and they are only turned from 201:110;22[' ]| the worse to$4$ the better. And as to$4$ the king you talk 201:110;23[' ]| of, since he is \Beelzebub\, the enemy of our Lord, I defy 201:110;24[' ]| him and all his angels. 201:110;25[' ]| The proclamation was made, that$3$ they that$6#1$ had 201:110;26[' ]| aught to$9$ say for$4$ their lord the king against the prisoner 201:110;27[' ]| at the bar, should forthwith appear and give in$5$ their 201:110;28[' ]| evidence. So$3$ there came in$5$ three witnesses, to$4$ wit, 201:110;29[' ]| \Envy, Superstition\, and \Pickthank\. They were then 201:110;30[' ]| asked if they knew the prisoner at the bar; and what 201:110;31[' ]| they had to$9$ say for$4$ their lord the king against him. 201:110;32[' ]| Then stood forth \Envy\, and said to$4$ this effect: 201:110;32[J ]| My 201:110;33[J ]| Lord, I have known this man a long time, and will$1$ 201:110;34[J ]| attest upon$4$ my oath before this honourable bench that$3$ 201:110;35[J ]| he is ~~ 201:110;36[' ]| <\Judge.\> 201:110;36[K ]| Hold! give him his oath. 201:110;36[' ]| (So$5#2$ they sware 201:110;37[' ]| him.) Then he said ~~ 201:110;38[J ]| <\Envy.\> My Lord, this man, notwithstanding his 201:110;39[J ]| plausible name, is one of the vilest men in$4$ our country. 201:111;01[J ]| He neither regardeth prince nor people, law nor 201:111;02[J ]| custom; but doth all that$6#1$ he can to$9$ possess all men with 201:111;03[J ]| certain of his disloyal notions, which$6#1$ he in$4$ the general 201:111;04[J ]| calls principles of faith and holiness. And, in$4$ particular, 201:111;05[J ]| I heard him once myself affirm that$3$ Christianity 201:111;06[J ]| and the customs of our town of \Vanity\ were diametrically 201:111;07[J ]| opposite, and could not be reconciled. By$4$ which$6#1$ 201:111;08[J ]| saying, my Lord, he doth at once not only condemn all 201:111;09[J ]| our laudable doings, but us in$4$ the doing of them. 201:111;10[' ]| <\Judge.\> Then did the Judge say to$4$ him, 201:111;10[K ]| Hast thou 201:111;11[K ]| any more to$9$ say? 201:111;12[J ]| <\Envy.\> My Lord, I could say much more, only I would 201:111;13[J ]| not be tedious to$4$ the court. Yet, if need be, when the 201:111;14[J ]| other gentlemen have given in$4$ their evidence, rather 201:111;15[J ]| than anything shall be wanting that$6#1$ will$1$ despatch him, 201:111;16[J ]| I will$1$ enlarge my testimony against him. 201:111;16[' ]| So$3$ he was 201:111;17[' ]| bid to$9$ stand by$5$. 201:111;18[' ]| Then they called \Superstition\, and bid him look upon$4$ 201:111;19[' ]| the prisoner. They also asked, what he could say for$4$ 201:111;20[' ]| their lord the king against him. Then they sware him; 201:111;21[' ]| so$3$ he began. 201:111;22[L ]| <\Super%\> My Lord, I have no$2$ great acquaintance with 201:111;23[L ]| this man, nor do I desire to$9$ have further knowledge of 201:111;24[L ]| him; however, this I know, that$3$ he is a very pestilent 201:111;25[L ]| fellow, from some discourse that$3$, the other day, I had 201:111;26[L ]| with him in$4$ this town; for$3$ then, talking with him, I 201:111;27[L ]| heard him say, that$3$ our religion was nought, and such 201:111;28[L ]| by$4$ which$6#1$ a man could by$4$ no$2$ means please God. Which$6#1$ 201:111;29[L ]| sayings of his, my Lord, your Lordship very well knows, 201:111;30[L ]| what necessarily thence will$1$ follow, to$4$ wit, that$3$ we do 201:111;31[L ]| still worship in$4$ vain, are yet in$4$ our sins, and finally 201:111;32[L ]| shall be damned; and this is that$6#2$ which$6#1$ I have to$9$ say. 201:111;33[' ]| Then was \Pickthank\ sworn, and bid say what he 201:111;34[' ]| knew, in$4$ behalf of their lord the king, against the 201:111;35[' ]| prisoner at the bar. 201:111;36[M ]| <\Pick%\> My Lord, and you gentlemen all, This fellow 201:111;37[M ]| I have known of a long time, and have heard him speak 201:111;38[M ]| things that$6#1$ ought not to$9$ be spoke; for$3$ he hath railed 201:111;39[M ]| on$4$ our noble prince \Beelzebub\, and hath spoken contemptibly 201:111;40[M ]| of his honourable friends, whose names are 201:112;01[M ]| the Lord*Old*Man, the Lord*Carnal*Delight, the Lord*Luxurious, 201:112;02[M ]| the Lord*Desire*of*Vain*Glory, my old Lord*Lechery, 201:112;03[M ]| Sir*Having*Greedy, with all the rest of our 201:112;04[M ]| nobility; and he hath said, moreover, That$3$ if all men 201:112;05[M ]| were of his mind, if possible, there is not one of these 201:112;06[M ]| noblemen should have any longer a being in$4$ this town. 201:112;07[M ]| Besides, he hath not been afraid to$9$ rail on$4$ you, my 201:112;08[M ]| Lord, who$6#1$ are now appointed to$9$ be his judge, calling 201:112;09[M ]| you an ungodly villain, with many other such like$5$ 201:112;10[M ]| vilifying terms, with which$6#1$ he hath bespattered most 201:112;11[M ]| of the gentry of our town. 201:112;12[' ]| When this \Pickthank\ had told his talk, the Judge 201:112;13[' ]| directed his speech to$4$ the prisoner at the bar, saying, 201:112;14[K ]| Thou runagate, heretic, and traitor, hast thou heard 201:112;15[K ]| what these honest gentlemen have witnessed against 201:112;16[K ]| thee? 201:112;17[N ]| <\Faith%\> May I speak a few words in$4$ my own defence? 201:112;18[K ]| <\Judge.\> Sirrah! sirrah! thou deservest to$9$ live no$2$ 201:112;19[K ]| longer, but to$9$ be slain immediately upon$4$ the place; 201:112;20[K ]| yet, that$3$ all men may see our gentleness towards thee, 201:112;21[K ]| let us hear what thou, vile runagate, hast to$9$ say. 201:112;22[N ]| <\Faith%\> 1. I say, then, in$4$ answer to$4$ what Mr%*Envy 201:112;23[N ]| hath spoken, I never said aught but this, That$3$ what 201:112;24[N ]| rule, or laws, or customs, or people, were flat against 201:112;25[N ]| the Word of God, are diametrically opposite to$4$ Christianity. 201:112;26[N ]| If I have said amiss in$4$ this, convince me of my 201:112;27[N ]| error, and I am ready here before you to$9$ make my 201:112;28[N ]| recantation. 201:112;29[N ]| 2. As to$4$ the second, to$4$ wit, Mr%*Superstition, and his 201:112;30[N ]| charge against me, I said only this, That$3$ in$4$ the worship 201:112;31[N ]| of God there is required a Divine faith; but there can 201:112;32[N ]| be no$2$ Divine faith without a Divine revelation of the 201:112;33[N ]| will$0$ of God. Therefore, whatever is thrust into the 201:112;34[N ]| worship of God that$6#1$ is not agreeable to$4$ Divine revelation, 201:112;35[N ]| cannot be done but by$4$ a human faith, which$6#1$ faith 201:112;36[N ]| will$1$ not be profitable to$4$ eternal life. 201:112;37[N ]| 3. As to$4$ what Mr%*Pickthank hath said, I say (avoiding 201:112;38[N ]| terms, as that$6#2$ I am said to$9$ rail, and the like$0$) that$3$ 201:112;39[N ]| the prince of this town, with all the rabblement, his 201:112;40[N ]| attendants, by$4$ this gentleman named, are more fit for$4$ 201:113;01[N ]| a being in$4$ hell, than in$4$ this town and country: and so$3$, 201:113;02[N ]| the Lord have mercy upon$4$ me! 201:113;03[' ]| Then the Judge called to$4$ the jury, (who$6#1$ all this 201:113;04[' ]| while stood by$5$, to$9$ hear and observe:) Gentlemen of 201:113;05[' ]| the jury, you see this man about whom so$5#1$ great an 201:113;06[' ]| uproar hath been made in$4$ this town. You have also 201:113;07[' ]| heard what these worthy gentlemen have witnessed 201:113;08[' ]| against him. Also you have heard his reply and confession. 201:113;09[' ]| It lieth now in$4$ your breasts to$9$ hang him or 201:113;10[' ]| save his life; but yet I think meet to$9$ instruct you into 201:113;11[' ]| our law. 201:113;12[' ]| There was an Act made in$4$ the days of Pharaoh the 201:113;13[' ]| Great, servant to$4$ our prince, that$3$ lest those of a contrary 201:113;14[' ]| religion should multiply and grow too strong 201:113;15[' ]| for$4$ him, their males should be thrown into the river. 201:113;16[' ]| There was also an Act made in$4$ the days of Nebuchadnezzar 201:113;17[' ]| the Great, another of his servants, that$3$ whosoever 201:113;18[' ]| would not fall down and worship his golden image, 201:113;19[' ]| should be thrown into a fiery furnace. There was also 201:113;20[' ]| an Act made in$4$ the days of Darius, that$3$ whoso, for$4$ 201:113;21[' ]| some time, called upon$4$ any god but him, should be 201:113;22[' ]| cast into the lions' den. Now the substance of these 201:113;23[' ]| laws this rebel has broken, not only in$4$ thought, (which$6#1$ 201:113;24[' ]| is not to$9$ be borne,) but also in$4$ word and deed, which$6#1$ 201:113;25[' ]| must therefore needs be intolerable. 201:113;26[' ]| For$4$ that$6#2$ of Pharaoh, his law was made upon$4$ a 201:113;27[' ]| supposition to$9$ prevent mischief, no$2$ crime being yet 201:113;28[' ]| apparent; but here is a crime apparent, For$4$ the 201:113;29[' ]| second and third, you see he disputeth against our 201:113;30[' ]| religion; and for$4$ the treason he hath confessed, he 201:113;31[' ]| deserveth to$9$ die the death. 201:113;32[' ]| Then went the jury out, whose names were, Mr*Blind-man, 201:113;33[' ]| Mr*No-good, Mr*Malice, Mr*Love-lust, Mr*Live-loose, 201:113;34[' ]| Mr*Heady, Mr*High-mind, Mr*Emnity, Mr*Liar, 201:113;35[' ]| Mr*Cruelty, Mr*Hate-light, and Mr*Implacable; 201:113;36[' ]| who$6#1$ every one gave in$5$ his private verdict against him 201:113;37[' ]| among themselves, and afterwards unanimously concluded 201:113;38[' ]| to$9$ bring him in$5$ guilty before the Judge. And 201:113;39[' ]| first, among themselves, Mr*Blind-man, the foreman, 201:113;40[' ]| said, 201:113;40[O ]| I see clearly that$3$ this man is a heretic. 201:113;40[' ]| Then 201:114;01[' ]| said Mr*No-good, 201:114;01[O ]| Away with such a fellow from the 201:114;02[O ]| earth. Ay, 201:114;02[' ]| said Mr*Malice, 201:114;02[O ]| for$3$ I hate the very looks 201:114;03[O ]| of him. Then 201:114;03[' ]| said Mr*Love-lust, 201:114;03[O ]| I could never endure 201:114;04[O ]| him. Nor I, 201:114;04[' ]| said Mr*Live-loose, 201:114;04[O ]| for$3$ he would always 201:114;05[O ]| be condemning my way. Hang him, hang him, 201:114;05[' ]| said 201:114;06[' ]| Mr*Heady. 201:114;06[O ]| A sorry scrub, 201:114;06[' ]| said Mr*High-mind. 201:114;06[O ]| My 201:114;07[O ]| heart riseth against him, 201:114;07[' ]| said Mr*Emnity. 201:114;07[O ]| He is a 201:114;08[O ]| rogue, 201:114;08[' ]| said Mr*Liar. 201:114;08[O ]| Hanging is too good for$4$ him, 201:114;09[' ]| said Mr*Cruelty. 201:114;09[O ]| Let us despatch him out of the way, 201:114;10[' ]| said Mr*Hate-light. Then said Mr*Implacable, 201:114;10[O ]| Might 201:114;11[O ]| I have all the world given me, I could not be reconciled 201:114;12[O ]| to$4$ him; therefore, let us forthwith bring him in$5$ 201:114;13[O ]| guilty of death. 201:114;13[' ]| And so$3$ they did; therefore he was 201:114;14[' ]| presently condemned to$9$ be had from the place where 201:114;15[' ]| he was, to$4$ the place from whence he came, and there 201:114;16[' ]| to$9$ be put to$4$ the most cruel death that$6#1$ could be 201:114;17[' ]| invented. 201:114;18[' ]| They, therefore, brought him out, to$9$ do with him 201:114;19[' ]| according to$4$ their law; and, first, they scourged him, 201:114;20[' ]| then they buffeted him, then they lanced his flesh 201:114;21[' ]| with knives; after that$6#2$, they stoned him with stones, 201:114;22[' ]| then pricked him with their swords; and, last of all, 201:114;23[' ]| they burned him to$4$ ashes at the stake. Thus came 201:114;24[' ]| \Faithful\ to$4$ his end. 201:114;25[I ]| Now I saw that$3$ there stood behind the multitude 201:114;26[I ]| a chariot and a couple of horses, waiting for$4$ \Faithful\, 201:114;27[I ]| who$6#1$ (so$5#1$ soon as his adversaries had despatched him) 201:114;28[I ]| was taken up$5$ into it, and straightway was carried up$5$ 201:114;29[I ]| through the clouds, with sound of trumpet, the nearest 201:114;30[I ]| way to$4$ the \Celestial*Gate\. 201:114;31[' ]| Brave \Faithful\, bravely done in$4$ word and deed; 201:114;32[' ]| Judge, witnesses, and jury have, instead 201:114;33[' ]| Of overcoming thee, but shewn their rage: 201:114;34[' ]| When they are dead, thou'lt live from age to$4$ age. 201:114;35[' ]| But as for$4$ \Christian\, he had some respite, and was 201:114;36[' ]| remanded back to$4$ prison. So$3$ he there remained for$4$ 201:114;37[' ]| a space; but He that$6#1$ overrules all things, having the 201:114;38[' ]| power of their rage in$4$ his own hand, so$5#2$ wrought it 201:114;39[' ]| about, that$3$ \Christian\ for$4$ that$6#2$ time escaped them, and 201:114;40[' ]| went his way. ~~ <\Pilgrim's*Progress\.> 101:333;00@@@@@| 101:333;13[' ]| 101:333;14[' ]| Two men I honour, and no$2$ third. First, the toil-worn 101:333;15[' ]| Craftsman that$6#1$ with earth-made Implement laboriously 101:333;16[' ]| conquers the Earth, and makes her man's. Venerable 101:333;17[' ]| to$4$ me is the hard Hand; crooked, coarse; wherein 101:333;18[' ]| notwithstanding lies a cunning virtue, indefeasibly 101:333;19[' ]| royal, as of the Sceptre of this Planet. Venerable too 101:333;20[' ]| is the rugged face, all weather-tanned, besoiled, with 101:333;21[' ]| its rude intelligence; for$3$ it is the face of a Man living 101:333;22[' ]| manlike. O, but the more venerable for$4$ thy rudeness, 101:333;23[' ]| and even because we must pity as well as love thee! 101:333;24[' ]| Hardly-entreated Brother! For$4$ us was thy back so$5#1$ 101:333;25[' ]| bent, for$4$ us were thy straight limbs and fingers so$5#1$ 101:333;26[' ]| deformed: thou wert our Conscript, on$4$ whom the lot 101:333;27[' ]| fell, and fighting our battles wert so$5#1$ marred. For$3$ in$4$ 101:333;28[' ]| thee too lay a god-created Form but it was not to$9$ be 101:333;29[' ]| unfolded; encrusted must it stand with the thick 101:333;30[' ]| adhesions and defacements of labour: and thy body, 101:333;31[' ]| like$4$ thy soul, was not to$9$ know freedom. Yet toil on$5$, 101:333;32[' ]| toil on$5$: \thou\ art in$4$ thy duty, be out of it who$6#1$ may; 101:333;33[' ]| thou toilest for$4$ the altogether indispensable, for$4$ daily 101:333;34[' ]| bread. 101:333;35[' ]| A second man I honour, and still more highly: Him 101:334;01[' ]| who$6#1$ is seen toiling for$4$ the spiritually indispensable; 101:334;02[' ]| not daily bread, but the bread of Life. Is not he too 101:334;03[' ]| in$4$ his duty; endeavouring towards inward Harmony; 101:334;04[' ]| revealing this, by$4$ act or by$4$ word, through all his outward 101:334;05[' ]| endeavours, be they high or low? Highest of all, when 101:334;06[' ]| his outward and his inward endeavour are one; when 101:334;07[' ]| we can name him Artist; not earthly Craftsman only, 101:334;08[' ]| but inspired Thinker, who$6#1$ with heaven-made Implement 101:334;09[' ]| conquers Heaven for$4$ us! If the poor and humble toil 101:334;10[' ]| that$3$ we have Food, must not the high and glorious toil 101:334;11[' ]| for$4$ him in$4$ return, that$3$ he have Light, have Guidance, 101:334;12[' ]| Freedom, Immortality? These two, in$4$ all their 101:334;13[' ]| degrees, I honour: all else is chaff and dust, which$6#1$ let 101:334;14[' ]| the wind blow whither it listeth. 101:334;15[' ]| Unspeakably touching is it, however, when I find 101:334;16[' ]| both dignities united; and he that$6#1$ must toil outwardly 101:334;17[' ]| for$4$ the lowest of man's wants, is also toiling inwardly 101:334;18[' ]| for$4$ the highest. Sublimer in$4$ this world know I nothing 101:334;19[' ]| than a Peasant*Saint, could such now anywhere be met 101:334;20[' ]| with. Such a one will$1$ take thee back to$4$ Nazareth itself; 101:334;21[' ]| thou wilt see the splendour of Heaven spring forth 101:334;22[' ]| from the humblest depths of Earth, like$4$ a light shining 101:334;23[' ]| in$4$ great darkness. ~~ 101:334;23[' ]| <\Sartor Resartus.\> 102:334;24[' ]| 102:334;25[' ]| For$3$ there is a perennial nobleness and even sacredness, 102:334;26[' ]| in$4$ Work. Were he never so$5#1$ benighted, forgetful 102:334;27[' ]| of his high calling, there is always hope in$4$ a man that$6#1$ 102:334;28[' ]| actually and earnestly works: in$4$ Idleness alone is there 102:334;29[' ]| perpetual despair. Work, never so$5#1$ Mammonish, mean, 102:334;30[' ]| \is\ in$4$ communication with Nature; the real desire to$9$ 102:334;31[' ]| get Work done will$1$ itself lead one more and more to$4$ 102:334;32[' ]| truth, to$4$ Nature's appointments and regulations, which$6#1$ 102:334;33[' ]| are truth. 102:334;34[' ]| The latest Gospel in$4$ this World is know thy work 102:334;35[' ]| and do it. ""Know thyself:"" long enough has that$6#2$ 102:334;36[' ]| poor ""self"" of thine tormented thee: thou wilt never 102:335;01[' ]| get to$9$ ""know"" it, I believe! Think it not thy business, 102:335;02[' ]| this of knowing thyself; thou art an unknowable 102:335;03[' ]| individual: know what thou canst work at; 102:335;04[' ]| and work at it, like$4$ a Hercules! That$6#2$ will$1$ be thy 102:335;05[' ]| better plan. 102:335;06[' ]| It has been written, ""an endless significance lies in$4$ 102:335;07[' ]| Work;"" a man perfects himself by$4$ working. Foul 102:335;08[' ]| jungles are cleared away, fair seedfields rise instead, 102:335;09[' ]| and stately cities; and withal the man himself first 102:335;10[' ]| ceases to$9$ be a jungle and foul unwholesome desert 102:335;11[' ]| thereby. Consider how, even in$4$ the meanest sorts of 102:335;12[' ]| Labour, the whole soul of a man is composed into a 102:335;13[' ]| kind of real harmony, the instant he sets himself to$9$ 102:335;14[' ]| work! Doubt, Desire, Sorrow, Remorse, Indignation, 102:335;15[' ]| Despair itself, all these like$4$ helldogs lie beleaguering 102:335;16[' ]| the soul of the poor dayworker, as of every man: but 102:335;17[' ]| he bends himself with free valour against his task, and 102:335;18[' ]| all these are stilled, all these shrink murmuring far off 102:335;19[' ]| into their caves. The man is now a man. The blessed 102:335;20[' ]| glow of Labour in$4$ him, is it not as purifying fire, 102:335;21[' ]| wherein all poison is burnt up$5$, and of sour smoke itself 102:335;22[' ]| there is made bright blessed flame! 102:335;23[' ]| Destiny, on$4$ the whole, has no$2$ other way of cultivating 102:335;24[' ]| us. A formless Chaos, once set it \revolving\, 102:335;25[' ]| grows round and ever rounder; ranges itself, by$4$ mere 102:335;26[' ]| force of gravity, into strata, spherical courses; is no$2$ 102:335;27[' ]| longer a Chaos, but a round compacted World. What 102:335;28[' ]| would become of the Earth, did she cease to$9$ revolve? 102:335;29[' ]| In$4$ the poor old Earth, as long as she revolves, all 102:335;30[' ]| inequalities, irregularities disperse themselves; all 102:335;31[' ]| irregularities are incessantly becoming regular. Hast 102:335;32[' ]| thou looked on$4$ the Potter's wheel, ~~ one of the 102:335;33[' ]| venerablest objects; old as the Prophet*Ezekiel and 102:335;34[' ]| far older? Rude lumps of clay, how they spin themselves 102:335;35[' ]| up$5$, by$4$ mere quick whirling, into beautiful 102:335;36[' ]| circular dishes. And fancy the most assiduous Potter, 102:335;37[' ]| but without his wheel; reduced to$9$ make dishes, or 102:335;38[' ]| rather amorphous botches, by$4$ mere kneading and 102:335;39[' ]| baking! Even such a Potter were Destiny, with a 102:335;40[' ]| human soul that$6#1$ would rest and lie at ease, that$6#1$ would 102:336;01[' ]| not work and spin! Of an idle unrevolving man the 102:336;02[' ]| kindest Destiny, like$4$ the most assiduous Potter without 102:336;03[' ]| wheel, can bake and knead nothing other than a botch; 102:336;04[' ]| let her spend on$4$ him what expensive colouring, what 102:336;05[' ]| gilding and enamelling she will$1$, he is but a botch. 102:336;06[' ]| Not a dish; no$7$, a bulding, kneaded, crooked, shambling, 102:336;07[' ]| squint-cornered, amorphous botch, ~~ a mere enamelled 102:336;08[' ]| vessel of dishonour! Let the idle think of this. 102:336;09[' ]| Blessed is he who$6#1$ has found his work; let him ask 102:336;10[' ]| no$2$ other blessedness. He has a work, a life-purpose; 102:336;11[' ]| he has found it, and will$1$ follow it! How, as a free-flowing 102:336;12[' ]| channel, dug and torn by$4$ noble force through 102:336;13[' ]| the sour mud-swamp of one's existence, like$4$ an ever-deepening 102:336;14[' ]| river there, it runs and flows: ~~ draining off 102:336;15[' ]| the sour festering water gradually from the root of the 102:336;16[' ]| remotest grass-blade; making, instead of pestilential 102:336;17[' ]| swamp, a green fruitful meadow with its clear-flowing 102:336;18[' ]| stream. How blessed for$4$ the meadow itself, let the 102:336;19[' ]| stream and \its\ value be great or small! Labour is Life: 102:336;20[' ]| from the inmost heart of the Worker rises his god-given 102:336;21[' ]| Force, the sacred celestial Life-essence breathed 102:336;22[' ]| into him by$4$ Almighty God; from his inmost heart 102:336;23[' ]| awakens him to$4$ all nobleness, ~~ to$4$ all knowledge, ""self-knowledge"" 102:336;24[' ]| and much else, so$5#1$ soon as Work fitly 102:336;25[' ]| begins. Knowledge? The knowledge that$6#1$ will$1$ hold 102:336;26[' ]| good in$4$ working, cleave thou to$4$ that$6#2$; for$3$ Nature herself 102:336;27[' ]| accredits that$6#2$, says Yea to$4$ that$6#2$. Properly thou 102:336;28[' ]| hast no$2$ other knowledge but what thou hast got by$4$ 102:336;29[' ]| working: the rest is yet all a hypothesis of knowledge; 102:336;30[' ]| a thing to$9$ be argued of in$4$ schools, a thing floating in$4$ 102:336;31[' ]| the clouds, in$4$ endless logic-vortices, till we try it and 102:336;32[' ]| fix it. ""Doubt, of whatever kind, can be ended by$4$ 102:336;33[' ]| Action alone."" 102:336;34[' ]| And again, hast thou valued Patience, Courage, 102:336;35[' ]| Perseverance, Openness to$4$ light; readiness to$9$ own 102:336;36[' ]| thyself mistaken, to$9$ do better next time? All these, 102:336;37[' ]| all virtues, in$4$ wrestling with the dim brute Powers of 102:336;38[' ]| Fact, in$4$ ordering of thy fellows in$4$ such wrestle, there 102:336;39[' ]| and elsewhere not at all, thou wilt continually learn. 102:337;01[' ]| Set down a brave Sir*Christopher in$4$ the middle of 102:337;02[' ]| black ruined Stone-heaps, of foolish unarchitectural 102:337;03[' ]| Bishops, redtape Officials, idle Nell-Gwyn Defenders 102:337;04[' ]| of the Faith; and see whether he will$1$ ever raise a 102:337;05[' ]| Paul's Cathedral out of all that$6#2$, yea or no$7$! Rough, 102:337;06[' ]| rude, contradictory are all things and persons, from 102:337;07[' ]| the mutinous masons and Irish hodmen, up$5$ to$4$ the 102:337;08[' ]| idle Nell-Gywn Defenders, to$4$ blustering redtape 102:337;09[' ]| Officals, foolish unarchitectural Bishops. All these 102:337;10[' ]| things and persons are there not for$4$ Christopher's sake 102:337;11[' ]| and his Cathedral's; they are there for$4$ their own sake 102:337;12[' ]| mainly! Christopher will$1$ have to$9$ conquer and constrain 102:337;13[' ]| all these, ~~ if he be able. All these are against 102:337;14[' ]| him. Equitable Nature herself, who$6#1$ carries her 102:337;15[' ]| mathematics and architectonics not on$4$ the face of her, 102:337;16[' ]| but deep in$4$ the hidden heart of her, ~~ Nature herself is 102:337;17[' ]| but partially for$4$ him; will$1$ be wholly against him, if he 102:337;18[' ]| constrain her not! His very money, where is it to$9$ 102:337;19[' ]| come from? The pious munificence of England lies 102:337;20[' ]| far-scattered, distant, unable to$9$ speak, and say, ""I am 102:337;21[' ]| here;"" ~~ must be spoken to$5$ before it can speak. Pious 102:337;22[' ]| munificence, and all help, is so$5#1$ silent, invisible like$4$ the 102:337;23[' ]| gods; impediment, contradictions manifold are so$5#1$ loud 102:337;24[' ]| and near! O brave Sir*Christopher, trust thou in$4$ 102:337;25[' ]| those notwithstanding, and front all these; understand 102:337;26[' ]| all these; by$4$ valiant patience, noble effort, insight, by$4$ 102:337;27[' ]| man's strength, vanquish and compel all these, ~~ and, 102:337;28[' ]| on$4$ the whole, strike down victoriously the last topstone 102:337;29[' ]| of that$6#2$ Paul's Edifice; thy monument for$4$ certain 102:337;30[' ]| centuries, the stamp ""Great Man"" impressed very 102:337;31[' ]| legibly on$4$ Portland-stone there! ~~ 102:337;32[' ]| Yes, all manner of help, and pious response from 102:337;33[' ]| Men or Nature, is always what we call silent; cannot 102:337;34[' ]| speak or come to$4$ light, till it be seen, till it be spoken 102:337;35[' ]| to$5$. Every noble work is at first ""impossible."" In$4$ 102:337;36[' ]| very truth, for$4$ every noble work the possibilities will$1$ 102:337;37[' ]| lie diffused through immensity; inarticulate, undiscoverable 102:337;38[' ]| except to$4$ faith. Like$4$ Gideon thou shalt 102:337;39[' ]| spread out thy fleece at the door of thy tent; see 102:337;40[' ]| whether under the wide arch of Heaven there be any 102:338;01[' ]| bounteous moisture, or none. Thy heart and life-purpose 102:338;02[' ]| shall be as a miraculous Gideon's fleece, spread 102:338;03[' ]| out in$4$ silent appeal to$4$ Heaven: and from the kind 102:338;04[' ]| Immensities, what from the poor unkind Localities and 102:338;05[' ]| town and country Parishes there never could, blessed 102:338;06[' ]| dew-moisture to$9$ suffice thee shall have fallen! 102:338;07[' ]| Work is of a religious nature: ~~ work is of a \brave\ 102:338;08[' ]| nature; which$6#1$ it is the aim of all religion to$9$ be. All 102:338;09[' ]| work of man is as the swimmer's: a waste ocean 102:338;10[' ]| threatens to$9$ devour him; if he front it not bravely, it 102:338;11[' ]| will$1$ keep its word. By$4$ incessant wise defiance of it, lusty 102:338;12[' ]| rebuke and buffet of it, behold how it loyally supports 102:338;13[' ]| him, bears him as its conqueror along. ""It is so$5#2$,"" says 102:338;14[' ]| Goethe, ""with all things that$6#1$ man undertakes in$4$ this 102:338;15[' ]| world."" 102:338;16[' ]| Brave Sea-captain, Norse Sea-king, ~~ Colombus, my 102:338;17[' ]| hero, royalest Sea-king of all! it is no$2$ friendly 102:338;18[' ]| environment this of thine, in$4$ the waste deep waters; 102:338;19[' ]| around thee mutinous discouraged souls, behind thee 102:338;20[' ]| disgrace and ruin, before thee the unpenetrated veil of 102:338;21[' ]| Night. Brother, these wild water-mountains, bounding 102:338;22[' ]| from their deep bases (ten miles deep, I am told), 102:338;23[' ]| are not entirely there on$4$ thy behalf! Meseems \they\ 102:338;24[' ]| have other work than floating thee forward: ~~ and the 102:338;25[' ]| huge Winds, that$6#1$ sweep from Ursa*Major to$4$ the Tropics 102:338;26[' ]| and Equators, dancing their giant-waltz through the 102:338;27[' ]| kingdoms of Chaos and Immensity, they care little 102:338;28[' ]| about filling rightly or filling wrongly the small 102:338;29[' ]| shoulder-of-mutton sails in$4$ this cockle-skiff of thine! 102:338;30[' ]| Thou art not among articulate-speaking friends, my 102:338;31[' ]| brother; thou art among immeasurable dumb monsters, 102:338;32[' ]| tumbling, howling wide as the world here. Secret, far 102:338;33[' ]| off, invisible to$4$ all hearts but thine, there lies a help in$4$ 102:338;34[' ]| them: see how thou wilt get at that$6#2$. Patiently thou 102:338;35[' ]| wilt wait till the mad South-wester spend itself, saving 102:338;36[' ]| thyself by$4$ dexterous science of defence the while: 102:338;37[' ]| valiantly, with swift decision, wilt thou strike in$5$, when 102:338;38[' ]| the favouring East, the Possible, springs up$5$. Mutiny 102:338;39[' ]| of men thou wilt sternly repress; weakness, despondency, 102:338;40[' ]| thou wilt cheerily encourage: thou wilt swallow 102:339;01[' ]| down complaint, unreason, weariness, weakness of 102:339;02[' ]| others and thyself; ~~ how much wilt thou swallow down! 102:339;03[' ]| There shall be a depth of Silence in$4$ thee, deeper than 102:339;04[' ]| this Sea, which$6#1$ is but ten miles deep: a silence unsoundable; 102:339;05[' ]| known to$4$ God only. Thou shalt be a 102:339;06[' ]| Great Man. Yes, my World-Soldier, thou of the 102:339;07[' ]| World Marine-service, ~~ thou wilt have to$9$ be \greater\ 102:339;08[' ]| than this tumultuous unmeasured World here round 102:339;09[' ]| thee is: thou, in$4$ thy strong soul, as with wrestler's 102:339;10[' ]| arms, shalt embrace it, harness it down; and make it 102:339;11[' ]| bear thee on$5$, ~~ to$4$ new Americas, or whither God wills! 102:339;12[' ]| ~~ 102:339;12[' ]| <\Past and Present.\> 101:172;00@@@@@| 101:172;01[' ]| 101:172;02[' ]| 101:172;03[' ]| <1694 ~~ 1773> 101:172;04[' ]| 101:172;05[' ]| IT is a vulgar notion, and worthy of the vulgar, for$3$ it 101:172;06[' ]| is both false and absurd, that$3$ passionate people are 101:172;07[' ]| the best natured people in$4$ the world. ""They are a little 101:172;08[' ]| hasty, it is true; a trifle will$1$ put them in$4$ a fury; and 101:172;09[' ]| while they are in$4$ that$6#2$ fury, they neither know nor care 101:172;10[' ]| what they say or do: but then, as soon as it is over, 101:172;11[' ]| they are extremely sorry and penitent for$4$ any injury 101:172;12[' ]| or mischief they did."" This panegyric on$4$ these choleric 101:172;13[' ]| good-natured people, when examined and simplified, 101:172;14[' ]| amounts in$4$ plain common-sense and English to$4$ this: 101:172;15[' ]| that$3$ they are good-natured when they are not ill-natured; 101:172;16[' ]| and that$3$ when in$4$ their fits of rage they have 101:172;17[' ]| said or done things that$6#1$ have brought them to$4$ the jail 101:172;18[' ]| or the gallows, they are extremely sorry for$4$ it. It is 101:172;19[' ]| indeed highly probable that$3$ they are; but where is the 101:172;20[' ]| reparation to$4$ those whose reputations, limbs, or lives 101:172;21[' ]| they have either wounded or destroyed? This concern 101:172;22[' ]| comes too late, and is only for$4$ themselves. Self-love 101:172;23[' ]| was the cause of the injury, and is the only motive of 101:172;24[' ]| the repentance. 101:172;25[' ]| Had these furious people real good-nature their first 101:172;26[' ]| offence would be their last, and they would resolve at 101:172;27[' ]| all events never to$9$ relapse. The moment they felt 101:172;28[' ]| their choler rising, they would enjoin themselves an 101:172;29[' ]| absolute silence and inaction, and by$4$ that$6#2$ sudden check 101:172;30[' ]| rather expose themselves to$4$ a momentary ridicule 101:172;31[' ]| (which$6#1$, by$4$ the way, would be followed by$4$ universal 101:172;32[' ]| applause), than run the least risk of being irreparably 101:172;33[' ]| mischievous. 101:172;34[' ]| I know it is said in$4$ their behalf, that$3$ this impulse to$4$ 101:173;01[' ]| wrath is constitutionally so$5#1$ sudden and so$5#1$ strong that$3$ 101:173;02[' ]| they cannot stifle it, even in$4$ its birth; but experience 101:173;03[' ]| shows us, that$3$ this allegation is notoriously false; for$3$ 101:173;04[' ]| we daily observe that$3$ these stormy persons both can 101:173;05[' ]| and do lay those gusts of passion, when awed by$4$ respect, 101:173;06[' ]| restrained by$4$ interest, or intimidated by$4$ fear. The 101:173;07[' ]| most outrageous furioso does not give a loose to$4$ his 101:173;08[' ]| anger in$4$ presence of his sovereign, or his mistress; nor 101:173;09[' ]| the expectant heir in$4$ presence of the peevish dotard 101:173;10[' ]| from whom he hopes for$4$ an inheritance. The soliciting 101:173;11[' ]| courtier, though perhaps under the strongest provocations, 101:173;12[' ]| from unjust delays and broken promises, calmly 101:173;13[' ]| swallows his unavailing wrath, disguises it even under 101:173;14[' ]| smiles, and gently waits for$4$ more favourable moments; 101:173;15[' ]| nor does the criminal fly in$4$ a passion at his judge or 101:173;16[' ]| his jury. 101:173;17[' ]| There is then but one solid excuse to$9$ be alleged in$4$ 101:173;18[' ]| favour of these people; and if they will$1$ frankly urge 101:173;19[' ]| it, I will$1$ candidly admit it, because it points out its 101:173;20[' ]| own remedy. I mean, let them fairly confess themselves 101:173;21[' ]| mad, as they most unquestionably are; for$3$ what 101:173;22[' ]| plea can those that$6#1$ are frantic ten times a day bring 101:173;23[' ]| against shaving, bleeding, and a dark room, when so$5#1$ 101:173;24[' ]| many much more harmless madmen are confined in$4$ 101:173;25[' ]| their cells at Bedlam for$4$ being mad only once in$4$ a 101:173;26[' ]| moon? Nay, I have been assured by$4$ the late ingenious 101:173;27[' ]| Doctor*Monro, that$3$ such of his patients who$6#1$ were really 101:173;28[' ]| of a good-natured disposition, and who$6#1$ in$4$ their lucid 101:173;29[' ]| intervals were allowed the liberty of walking about 101:173;30[' ]| the hospital, would frequently, when they found the 101:173;31[' ]| previous symptoms of their returning madness, voluntarily 101:173;32[' ]| apply for$4$ confinement, conscious of the mischief 101:173;33[' ]| which$6#1$ they might possibly do if at liberty. If those 101:173;34[' ]| who$6#1$ pretend not to$9$ be mad, but who$6#1$ really are so$5#2$, had 101:173;35[' ]| the same fund of good-nature, they would make the 101:173;36[' ]| same application to$4$ their friends, if they have any. 101:173;37[' ]| There is in$4$ the Menagiana, a very pretty story of 101:173;38[' ]| one of these angry gentlemen, which$6#1$ sets their extravagancy 101:173;39[' ]| in$4$ a very ridiculous light. 101:173;40[' ]| Two gentlemen were riding together, one of whom, 101:174;01[' ]| who$6#1$ was a choleric one, happened to$9$ be mounted on$4$ a 101:174;02[' ]| high-mettled horse. The horse grew a little trouble-some, 101:174;03[' ]| at which$6#1$ the rider grew very angry, and whipped 101:174;04[' ]| and spurred him with great fury; to$4$ which$6#1$ the horse, 101:174;05[' ]| almost as wrong-headed as his master, replied with 101:174;06[' ]| kicking and plunging. The companion, concerned for$4$ 101:174;07[' ]| the danger, and ashamed of the folly of his friend, said 101:174;08[' ]| to$4$ him coolly, ""Be quiet, be quiet, and show yourself 101:174;09[' ]| the wiser of the two."" 101:174;10[' ]| This sort of madness, for$3$ I will$1$ call it by$4$ no$2$ other 101:174;11[' ]| name, flows from various causes, of which$6#1$ I shall now 101:174;12[' ]| enumerate the most general. 101:174;13[' ]| Light unballasted heads are very apt to$9$ be overset 101:174;14[' ]| by$4$ every gust, or even breeze of passion; they appreciate 101:174;15[' ]| things wrong, and think everything of importance, 101:174;16[' ]| but what really is so$5#2$; hence those frequent and sudden 101:174;17[' ]| transitions from silly joy to$4$ sillier anger, according as 101:174;18[' ]| the present silly humour is gratified or thwarted. This 101:174;19[' ]| is the never-failing characteristic of the uneducated 101:174;20[' ]| vulgar, who$6#1$ often in$4$ the same half-hour fight with fury, 101:174;21[' ]| and shake hands with affection. Such heads give 101:174;22[' ]| themselves no$2$ time to$9$ reason; and if you attempt to$9$ 101:174;23[' ]| reason with them they think you rally them, and resent 101:174;24[' ]| the affront. They are, in$4$ short, overgrown children, 101:174;25[' ]| and continue so$5#2$ in$4$ the most advanced age. Far be it 101:174;26[' ]| from me to$9$ insinuate, what some ill-bred authors have 101:174;27[' ]| bluntly asserted, that$3$ this is in$4$ general the case of the 101:174;28[' ]| fairest part of our species, whose great vivacity does 101:174;29[' ]| not always allow them time to$9$ reason consequentially, 101:174;30[' ]| but hurries them into testiness upon$4$ the least opposition 101:174;31[' ]| to$4$ their will$0$; but at the same time, with all the 101:174;32[' ]| partiality which$6#1$ I have for$4$ them, and nobody can have 101:174;33[' ]| more than I have, I must confess that$3$, in$4$ all their 101:174;34[' ]| debates, I have much more admired the copiousness of 101:174;35[' ]| their rhetoric than the conclusiveness of their logic. 101:174;36[' ]| People of strong animal spirits, warm constitutions, 101:174;37[' ]| and a cold genius (a most unfortunate and ridiculous, 101:174;38[' ]| though common compound) are most irascible animals, 101:174;39[' ]| and very dangerous in$4$ their wrath. They are active, 101:174;40[' ]| puzzling, blundering, and petulantly enterprising and 101:175;01[' ]| persevering. They are impatient of the least contradiction, 101:175;02[' ]| having neither arguments nor words to$9$ reply 101:175;03[' ]| with; and the animal part of their compositiion bursts 101:175;04[' ]| out into furious explosions, which$6#1$ have often mischievous 101:175;05[' ]| consequences. Nothing is too outrageous or 101:175;06[' ]| criminal for$4$ them to$9$ say or do in$4$ these fits; but as the 101:175;07[' ]| beginning of their frenzy is easily discoverable by$4$ their 101:175;08[' ]| glaring eyes, inflamed countenances, and rapid motions, 101:175;09[' ]| the company, as conservators of the peace (which$6#1$, by$4$ 101:175;10[' ]| the way, every man is, till the authority of a magistrate 101:175;11[' ]| can be produced), should forcibly seize these madmen, 101:175;12[' ]| and confine them, in$4$ the meantime, in$4$ some dark 101:175;13[' ]| closet, vault, or coal-hole. 101:175;14[' ]| Men of nice honour, without one grain of common 101:175;15[' ]| honesty (for$3$ such there are), are wonderfully combustible. 101:175;16[' ]| The honourable is to$9$ support and protect 101:175;17[' ]| the dishonest part of their character. The consciousness 101:175;18[' ]| of their guilt makes them both sore and 101:175;19[' ]| jealous. 101:175;20[' ]| There is another very irascible sort of human animals, 101:175;21[' ]| whose madness proceeds from pride. These are generally 101:175;22[' ]| the people, who$6#1$, having just fortunes sufficient to$9$ 101:175;23[' ]| live idle and useless to$4$ society, create themselves 101:175;24[' ]| gentlemen, and are scupulously tender of the rank 101:175;25[' ]| and dignity which$6#1$ they have not. They require the 101:175;26[' ]| more respect, from being conscious that$3$ they have no$2$ 101:175;27[' ]| right to$4$ any. They construe everything into a slight, 101:175;28[' ]| ask explanations with heat, and misunderstand them 101:175;29[' ]| with fury. ""Who$6#2$ are you? What are you? Do you 101:175;30[' ]| know who$6#1$ you speak to$4$? I will$1$ teach you to$9$ be insolent 101:175;31[' ]| to$4$ a gentleman,"" are their daily idioms of speech, which$6#1$ 101:175;32[' ]| frequently end in$4$ assault and battery, to$4$ the great 101:175;33[' ]| emolument of the Round-house and Crown office. 101:175;34[' ]| I have known many young fellows, who$6#1$, at their 101:175;35[' ]| first setting out in$4$ the world, or in$4$ the army, have 101:175;36[' ]| simulated a passion which$6#1$ they did not feel, merely as 101:175;37[' ]| an indication of spirit, which$6#1$ word is falsely looked 101:175;38[' ]| upon$5$ as synonymous with courage. They dress and 101:175;39[' ]| look fierce, swear enormously, and rage furiously, 101:175;40[' ]| seduced by$4$ that$6#2$ popular word ""spirit."" But I beg 101:176;01[' ]| leave to$9$ inform these mistaken young gentlemen, 101:176;02[' ]| whose error I compassionate, that$3$ the true spirit of 101:176;03[' ]| a rational being consists in$4$ cool and steady resolution, 101:176;04[' ]| which$6#1$ can only be the result of reflection and virtue. 101:176;05[' ]| I am very sorry to$9$ be obliged to$9$ own, that$3$ there is 101:176;06[' ]| not a more irritable part of the species than my brother 101:176;07[' ]| authors. Criticism, censure, or even the slightest disapprobation 101:176;08[' ]| of their immortal works excite their most 101:176;09[' ]| furious indignation. It is true indeed that$3$ they express 101:176;10[' ]| their resentment in$4$ a manner less dangerous, both to$4$ 101:176;11[' ]| others and to$4$ themselves. Like$4$ incensed porcupines, 101:176;12[' ]| they dart their quills at the objects of their wrath. 101:176;13[' ]| The wounds given by$4$ these shafts are not mortal, and 101:176;14[' ]| only painful in$4$ proportion to$4$ the distance from whence 101:176;15[' ]| they fly. Those which$6#1$ are discharged (as by$4$ much the 101:176;16[' ]| greatest number are) from great heights, such as 101:176;17[' ]| garrets or four-pair-of-stairs rooms, are puffed away by$4$ 101:176;18[' ]| the wind, and never hit the mark; but those which$6#1$ are 101:176;19[' ]| let off from a first or second floor, are apt to$9$ occasion 101:176;20[' ]| a little smarting, and sometimes festering, especially if 101:176;21[' ]| the party wounded be unsound. 101:176;22[' ]| Our Great Creator has wisely given us passions to$9$ 101:176;23[' ]| rouse us into action, and to$9$ engage our gratitude to$4$ 101:176;24[' ]| him by$4$ the pleasures they procure us; but at the same 101:176;25[' ]| time He has kindly given us reason sufficient, if we 101:176;26[' ]| will$1$ but give that$6#2$ reason fair play, to$9$ control those 101:176;27[' ]| passions; and has delegated authority to$9$ say to$4$ them, 101:176;28[' ]| as He said to$4$ the waters, ""Thus far shall ye go, and no$2$ 101:176;29[' ]| farther."" The angry man is his own severest tormentor; 101:176;30[' ]| his breast knows no$2$ peace, while his raging 101:176;31[' ]| passions are restrained by$4$ no$2$ sense of either religious 101:176;32[' ]| or moral duties. What would be his case, if his unforgiving 101:176;33[' ]| example (if I may use such an expression) 101:176;34[' ]| were followed by$4$ his All-Merciful Maker, whose forgiveness 101:176;35[' ]| he can only hope for$4$, in$4$ proportion as he 101:176;36[' ]| himself forgives and loves his fellow-creatures? ~~ 101:176;37[' ]| <\Works.\> 101:129;00@@@@@| 101:129;01[' ]| 101:129;02[' ]| <1661 ~~ 1731> 101:129;03[' ]| 101:129;04[' ]| THE apprehensions of the people were likewise 101:129;05[' ]| strangely increased by$4$ the error of the times, in$4$ which$6#1$, 101:129;06[' ]| I think, the people, from what principle I cannot 101:129;07[' ]| imagine, were more addicted to$4$ prophecies and astrological 101:129;08[' ]| conjurations, dreams and old wives' tales than 101:129;09[' ]| ever they were before or since. Whether this unhappy 101:129;10[' ]| temper was originally raised by$4$ the follies of 101:129;11[' ]| some people who$6#1$ got money by$4$ it, that$6#2$ is to$9$ say by$4$ 101:129;12[' ]| printing predictions and prognostications, I know not; 101:129;13[' ]| but certain it is books frighted them terribly, such as 101:129;14[' ]| Lilly's Almanack, Gadbury's Alogical*Predictions, 101:129;15[' ]| Poor*Robin's Almanac, and the like$0$; also several 101:129;16[' ]| pretended religious books, one entitled ""Come out of 101:129;17[' ]| her my people, lest you be partaker of her plagues;"" 101:129;18[' ]| another called ""Fair*Warning,"" another ""Britain's*Remembrancer"" 101:129;19[' ]| and many such; all or most part of 101:129;20[' ]| which$6#1$ foretold directly or covertly the ruin of the city. 101:129;21[' ]| Nay, some were so$5#1$ enthusiastically bold as to$9$ run 101:129;22[' ]| about the streets with their oral predictions, pretending 101:129;23[' ]| they were sent to$9$ preach to$4$ the city; and one in$4$ particular 101:129;24[' ]| who$6#1$, like$4$ Jonah to$4$ Nineveh, cried in$4$ the streets 101:129;25[' ]| ""Yet forty days, and London shall be destroyed."" I 101:129;26[' ]| will$1$ not be positive whether he said yet forty days or 101:129;27[' ]| yet a few days. Another run about naked, except a 101:129;28[' ]| pair of drawers about his waist, crying day and night, 101:129;29[' ]| like$4$ a man that$6#1$ Josephus mentions who$6#1$ cried woe to$4$ 101:129;30[' ]| Jerusalem a little before the destruction of that$6#2$ city, 101:129;31[' ]| so$3$ this poor naked creature cried, ""O! the Great and 101:129;32[' ]| the Dreadful God!"" and said no$2$ more but repeated 101:129;33[' ]| those words continually, with a voice and countenance 101:129;34[' ]| full of horror, a swift pace, and nobody could ever find 101:130;01[' ]| him to$9$ stop, or rest, or take any sustenance, at least 101:130;02[' ]| that$6#1$ ever I could hear of. I met this poor creature 101:130;03[' ]| several times in$4$ the streets, and would have spoken to$4$ 101:130;04[' ]| him, but he would not enter into speech with me, or 101:130;05[' ]| any*one else, but held on$5$ his dismal cries continually. 101:130;06[' ]| These things terrified the people to$4$ the last degree, 101:130;07[' ]| and especially when two or three times, as I have 101:130;08[' ]| mentioned already, they found one or two in$4$ the Bills, 101:130;09[' ]| dead of the plague at St%*Giles. 101:130;10[' ]| Next to$4$ these public things were the dreams of old 101:130;11[' ]| women; or, I should say, the interpretation of old 101:130;12[' ]| women upon$4$ other people's dreams; and these put 101:130;13[' ]| abundance of people even out of their wits. Some 101:130;14[' ]| heard voices warning them to$9$ be gone, for$3$ that$3$ there 101:130;15[' ]| would be such a plague in$4$ London, so$3$ that$3$ the living 101:130;16[' ]| would not be able to$9$ bury the dead; others saw 101:130;17[' ]| apparitions in$4$ the air, and I must be allowed to$9$ say 101:130;18[' ]| of both, I hope without breach of charity, that$3$ they 101:130;19[' ]| heard voices that$6#1$ never spake, and saw sights that$6#1$ 101:130;20[' ]| never appeared; but the imagination of the people was 101:130;21[' ]| really turned wayward and possessed; and no$2$ wonder 101:130;22[' ]| if they who$6#1$ were poring continually at the clouds, 101:130;23[' ]| saw shapes and figures, representations and appearances, 101:130;24[' ]| which$6#1$ had nothing in$4$ them but air and vapour. 101:130;25[' ]| Here they told us they saw a flaming sword held in$4$ a 101:130;26[' ]| hand, coming out of a cloud, with a point hanging 101:130;27[' ]| directly over the city. There they saw hearses and 101:130;28[' ]| coffins in$4$ the air carrying to$9$ be buried. And there 101:130;29[' ]| again heaps of dead bodies lying unburied and the 101:130;30[' ]| like$0$; just as the imagination of the poor terrified 101:130;31[' ]| people furnished them with matter to$9$ work upon$4$. 101:130;32[Z ]| So$3$ hypochondriac fancies represent 101:130;33[Z ]| Ships, armies, battles, in$4$ the firmament; 101:130;34[Z ]| Till steady eyes the exhalations solve, 101:130;35[Z ]| And all to$4$ its first matter, cloud, resolve. 101:130;36[' ]| I could fill this account with the strange relations such 101:130;37[' ]| people give every day of what they have seen; and 101:130;38[' ]| every*one was so$5#1$ positive of their having seen what 101:130;39[' ]| they pretended to$9$ see, that$3$ there was no$2$ contradicting 101:131;01[' ]| them, without breach of friendship, or being accounted 101:131;02[' ]| rude and unmannerly on$4$ the one hand, or profane and 101:131;03[' ]| impenetrable on$4$ the other. One time before the plague 101:131;04[' ]| was begun, otherwise than as I have said in$4$ St%*Giles's, 101:131;05[' ]| I think it was in$4$ March, seeing a crowd of people in$4$ 101:131;06[' ]| the street, I joined with them to$9$ satisfy my curiosity, 101:131;07[' ]| and found them all staring up$5$ into the air to$9$ see what 101:131;08[' ]| a woman told them appeared plain to$4$ her, which$6#1$ was 101:131;09[' ]| an angel clothed in$4$ white, with a fiery sword in$4$ his 101:131;10[' ]| hand, waving it or brandishing it over his head. She 101:131;11[' ]| described every part of the figure to$4$ the life, showed 101:131;12[' ]| them the motion and the form, and the poor people 101:131;13[' ]| came into it so$5#1$ eagerly and with so$5#1$ much readiness: 101:131;14[' ]| Yes! I see it all plainly, says one, there is the sword as 101:131;15[' ]| plain as can be; another saw the angel; one saw his 101:131;16[' ]| very face, and cried out what a glorious creature he 101:131;17[' ]| was! One saw one thing, and one another. I looked 101:131;18[' ]| as earnestly as the rest, but, perhaps, not with so$5#1$ much 101:131;19[' ]| willingness to$9$ be imposed upon$5$; and I said indeed, 101:131;20[' ]| that$3$ I could see nothing but a white cloud, bright on$4$ 101:131;21[' ]| one side, by$4$ the shining of the sun upon$4$ the other 101:131;22[' ]| part. The woman endeavoured to$9$ show it me, but 101:131;23[' ]| could not make me confess that$3$ I saw it, which$6#1$, indeed, 101:131;24[' ]| if I had, I must have lied: but the woman turning to$4$ 101:131;25[' ]| me looked me in$4$ the face and fancied I laughed, in$4$ 101:131;26[' ]| which$6#1$ her imagination deceived her too, for$3$ I really 101:131;27[' ]| did not laugh, but was seriously reflecting how the 101:131;28[' ]| poor people were terrified by$4$ the force of their own 101:131;29[' ]| imagination. However, she turned to$4$ me, called me 101:131;30[' ]| profane fellow, and a scoffer, told me that$3$ it was a time 101:131;31[' ]| of God's anger and dreadful judgments were approaching, 101:131;32[' ]| and that$3$ despisers, such as I should wander and 101:131;33[' ]| perish. 101:131;34[' ]| The people about her seemed disgusted as well as 101:131;35[' ]| she, and I found there was no$2$ persuading them that$3$ 101:131;36[' ]| I did not laugh at them, and that$3$ I should be rather 101:131;37[' ]| mobbed by$4$ them than be able to$9$ undeceive them. So$3$ 101:131;38[' ]| I left them, and this appearance passed for$4$ as real as 101:131;39[' ]| the blazing star itself. 101:131;40[' ]| These things serve to$9$ shew how far the people were 101:132;01[' ]| really overcome with delusions, and as they had a notion 101:132;02[' ]| of the approach of a visitation, all their predictions ran 101:132;03[' ]| upon$4$ a most dreadful plague which$6#1$ should lay the whole 101:132;04[' ]| city and even the kingdom waste, and should destroy 101:132;05[' ]| almost all the nation, both man and beast. ~~ 102:132;05[' ]| <\The History\> 102:132;06[' ]| <\of the Plague in London.\> 102:132;07[' ]| 102:132;08[' ]| Passing occasionally the other day through a little 102:132;09[' ]| village, at some distance from town, I was entertained 102:132;10[' ]| with the view of a very handsome equipage moving 102:132;11[' ]| towards me. The gravity of the gentleman who$6#1$ sat 102:132;12[' ]| in$4$ it, and the eagerness wherewith the coachman drove 102:132;13[' ]| along, engaged my whole attention; and I immediately 102:132;14[' ]| concluded that$3$ it could be nothing less than some 102:132;15[' ]| minister of state, who$6#1$ was posting this way upon$4$ some 102:132;16[' ]| very important affair. They were now got about the 102:132;17[' ]| middle of the place, when making a full stand, the 102:132;18[' ]| footman, deserting his station behind and making up$5$ 102:132;19[' ]| abreast of his master, gave us a very fine blast with 102:132;20[' ]| a trumpet. I was surprised to$9$ see a skip transformed 102:132;21[' ]| so$5#1$ speedily into a trumpeter, and began to$9$ wonder 102:132;22[' ]| what should be the meaning of such an unusual phenomenon; 102:132;23[' ]| when the coachman, jumping from his box, 102:132;24[' ]| laying by$4$ his whip, and slipping off his great coat, in$4$ 102:132;25[' ]| an instant rose up$5$ a complete merry-andrew. My 102:132;26[' ]| surprise was now heightened, and though honest pickle 102:132;27[' ]| with a world of grimace and gesticulation endeavoured 102:132;28[' ]| to$9$ move my gaiety, I began to$9$ be very fearful where 102:132;29[' ]| the metamorphosis might end. I looked very earnestly 102:132;30[' ]| first at the horse and then at the wheels, and expected 102:132;31[' ]| every minute to$9$ have seen them take their turn in$4$ the 102:132;32[' ]| farce, and laying aside their present appearances assume 102:132;33[' ]| other shapes. By$4$ this time the gentleman, who$6#1$ had 102:132;34[' ]| hitherto appeared wonderfully sedate and composed, 102:132;35[' ]| began to$9$ throw off his disguise; and having pocketed 102:133;01[' ]| all his former modesty and demureness, and flushed 102:133;02[' ]| his forehead with all the impudence of a thorough-paced 102:133;03[' ]| quack, I immediately discovered him to$9$ be a very 102:133;04[' ]| eminent and learned mountebank. 102:133;05[' ]| This discovery raised my curiosity as much as it 102:133;06[' ]| abated my surprise, so$3$ that$3$ being very desirous to$9$ hear 102:133;07[' ]| what new proposal the doctor had to$9$ make, or what 102:133;08[' ]| new \7arcanum\ in$4$ physic he had found out, I quitted 102:133;09[' ]| my former station and joined myself to$4$ the crowd that$6#1$ 102:133;10[' ]| encompassed him. After a short preamble, he began 102:133;11[' ]| to$9$ open the design of his embassy, setting forth at 102:133;12[' ]| large the great affection which$6#1$ he bore in$4$ particular 102:133;13[' ]| to$4$ the people of that$6#2$ place; amplifying on$4$ his own 102:133;14[' ]| merits and qualifications, specifying great numbers of 102:133;15[' ]| cures which$6#1$ he had wrought on$4$ incurable distempers, 102:133;16[' ]| expatiating on$4$ the extreme danger of being without 102:133;17[' ]| his physic, and offering health and immortality to$4$ sale 102:133;18[' ]| for$4$ the price of a tester. 102:133;19[' ]| You would have burst your sides had you but heard the 102:133;20[' ]| foolish allusions, quaint expressions, and inconsistent 102:133;21[' ]| metaphors, which$6#1$ fell from the mouth of this eloquent 102:133;22[' ]| declaimer. For$4$ my part I should have wondered where 102:133;23[' ]| he could have raked up$5$ nonsense enough to$9$ furnish out 102:133;24[' ]| such a wordy harangue, but that$3$ I am told he has 102:133;25[' ]| studied the \Flying*Post\ with a great deal of application, 102:133;26[' ]| and that$3$ most of the silly things in$4$ his speech are 102:133;27[' ]| borrowed from that$6#2$ excellent author. Sometimes he would 102:133;28[' ]| creep in$4$ the most vulgar phrases imaginable, by*and*by 102:133;29[' ]| he would soar out of sight and traverse the spacious 102:133;30[' ]| realms of fustian and bombast. He was, indeed, very 102:133;31[' ]| sparing of his Latin and Greek, as (God knows) having 102:133;32[' ]| a very slender stock of those commodities; but then, 102:133;33[' ]| for$4$ hard words and terms, which$6#1$ neither he, nor you, 102:133;34[' ]| nor I, nor anybody else understand, he poured them 102:133;35[' ]| out in$4$ such abundance that$3$ you would have sworn he had 102:133;36[' ]| been rehearsing some of the occult philosophy of 102:133;37[' ]| Agrippa or Rosicrusius, or reading a lecture out of 102:133;38[' ]| Cabala. 102:133;39[' ]| After the doctor had given such ample indications 102:133;40[' ]| of the greatest humanity, skill, and erudition, who$6#1$ 102:134;01[' ]| do ye think would be so$5#1$ incredulous as not to$9$ believe 102:134;02[' ]| him, or so$5#1$ uncourteous as to$9$ refuse to$9$ purchase one of 102:134;03[' ]| his packets? Lest any of us, however, should be too 102:134;04[' ]| tenacious of our money to$9$ part with it on$4$ these considerations, 102:134;05[' ]| he had one other motive which$6#1$ did not fail 102:134;06[' ]| to$9$ do the business; this was by$4$ persuading us that$3$ 102:134;07[' ]| there were the seeds of some malignant distemper 102:134;08[' ]| lurking in$4$ every one of our bodies, and that$3$ there was 102:134;09[' ]| nothing in$4$ nature could save us but some one or other 102:134;10[' ]| of his medicines. He threatened us with death in$4$ case 102:134;11[' ]| of refusal, and assured us with a prophetic air that$3$ 102:134;12[' ]| without his physic every mother's son of us would be 102:134;13[' ]| in$4$ our graves by$4$ that$6#2$ day twelve-month. The poor 102:134;14[' ]| people were infinitely terrified with the imminent 102:134;15[' ]| danger they found themselves under, but were as 102:134;16[' ]| much pleased to$9$ find how easy it was to$9$ be evaded; 102:134;17[' ]| so$3$ that$3$, without more ado, every man bought his 102:134;18[' ]| packet, and turned the doctor adrift to$9$ pursue further 102:134;19[' ]| adventures. 102:134;20[' ]| The scene being now removed, I was at leisure to$9$ 102:134;21[' ]| reflect on$4$ what had passed, and could really have either 102:134;22[' ]| cried or laughed very heartily at what I had seen. 102:134;23[' ]| The arrogance of the doctor and the silliness of his 102:134;24[' ]| patients were each of them ridiculous enough to$9$ have 102:134;25[' ]| set a person of more gravity than myself a-laughing; 102:134;26[' ]| but then to$9$ consider the tragical issue to$4$ which$6#1$ these 102:134;27[' ]| things tended, and the fatal effect so$5#1$ many murthering 102:134;28[' ]| medicines might have on$4$ several of his majesty's good 102:134;29[' ]| subjects, would have made the merriest buffoon alive 102:134;30[' ]| serious. I have not often observed a more hale, robust 102:134;31[' ]| crowd of people than that$6#2$ which$6#1$ encircled this doughty 102:134;32[' ]| doctor, methinks one might have read health in$4$ their 102:134;33[' ]| very faces, and there was not a countenance among 102:134;34[' ]| them which$6#1$ did not give the lie to$4$ the doctor's suggestions. 102:134;35[' ]| Could but one see a little into futurity, and 102:134;36[' ]| observe the condition they will$1$ be in$4$ a few months 102:134;37[' ]| hence, what an alteration would one find! How many 102:134;38[' ]| of those brawny youths are already puking in$4$ chimney 102:134;38[' ]| corners? And how many rosy complexioned girls are 102:134;39[' ]| by$4$ this time reduced to$4$ the paleness of a cockney? 102:135;01[' ]| I propose in$4$ a little time to$9$ make a second journey 102:135;02[' ]| to$4$ this place in$4$ order to$9$ see how the doctor's physic 102:135;03[' ]| has operated. By$4$ searching the parish register and 102:135;04[' ]| comparing the number of funerals made weekly before 102:135;05[' ]| the doctor's visit with those which$6#1$ have followed, it 102:135;06[' ]| will$1$ be easy to$9$ form an estimate of the havoc which$6#1$ 102:135;07[' ]| this itinerant man-slayer made in$4$ the space of two 102:135;08[' ]| hours. I shall then proceed to$9$ compute the number 102:135;09[' ]| of quacks in$4$ the three kingdoms, from which$6#1$ it will$1$ 102:135;10[' ]| be no$2$ hard matter to$9$ determine the number of people 102:135;11[' ]| carried off \7per*annum\ by$4$ the whole fraternity. Lastly, 102:135;12[' ]| I shall calculate the loss which$6#1$ the government sustains 102:135;13[' ]| by$4$ the death of every subject; from all of which$6#1$ 102:135;14[' ]| the immense damages accruing to$4$ his majesty will$1$ 102:135;15[' ]| evidently appear, and the public will$1$ be fully convinced 102:135;16[' ]| of the truth of what I have heretofore asserted, 7viz% 102:135;17[' ]| that$3$ the quacks contribute more towards keeping us 102:135;18[' ]| poor than all our national debts, and that$3$ to$9$ suppress 102:135;19[' ]| the former would be an infallible means of redeeming 102:135;20[' ]| the latter. The whole scheme shall be drawn up$5$ in$4$ 102:135;21[' ]| due form and presented to$4$ the parliament in$4$ the ensuing 102:135;22[' ]| session, and the august assembly, I do not doubt, 102:135;23[' ]| will$1$ pay all regard thereto, which$6#1$ the importance of 102:135;24[' ]| the subject and the weight of my argument shall 102:135;25[' ]| require. 102:135;26[' ]| Methinks the course of justice, which$6#1$ has hitherto 102:135;27[' ]| obtained among us, is chargeable with great absurdities. 102:135;28[' ]| Petty villains are hanged or transported, while great 102:135;29[' ]| ones are suffered to$9$ pass \impune\. A man cannot take 102:135;30[' ]| a purse upon$4$ the highway, or cut a single throat, but 102:135;31[' ]| he must presently be called to$9$ answer for$4$ it at the 102:135;32[' ]| Old*Bailey, and perhaps to$9$ suffer for$4$ it at Tyburn; 102:135;33[' ]| and yet, here are wretches suffered to$9$ commit murthers 102:135;34[' ]| by$4$ wholesale, and to$9$ plunder, not only private persons 102:135;35[' ]| and pockets, but even the king and the Exchequer, 102:135;36[' ]| without having any questions asked! Pray what were 102:135;37[' ]| gibbets, gallows, and whipping posts made for$4$? 102:135;38[' ]| But to$9$ return to$4$ Doctor*Thornhill. I have had the 102:135;39[' ]| curiosity to$9$ examine several of his medicines in$4$ a reverberatory, 102:135;40[' ]| reducing compounds into their simples by$4$ 102:136;01[' ]| a chemical analysis, and have constantly found a considerable 102:136;02[' ]| proportion of some poisonous plant or mineral 102:136;03[' ]| in$4$ every*one of them. Arsenic, wolf's-bane, mercury, 102:136;04[' ]| and hemlock are \7sine 7quibus 7non\, and he could no$2$ more 102:136;05[' ]| make up$5$ a medicament without some of these than 102:136;06[' ]| remove a mountain. Accordingly as they are variously 102:136;07[' ]| mixed and disposed among other drugs, he gives them 102:136;08[' ]| various names, calling them pills, boluses, electuaries, 102:136;09[' ]| etc% His pills I would prescribe as a \7succedaneum\ to$4$ 102:136;10[' ]| a halter, so$3$ that$3$ such persons as are weary of this 102:136;11[' ]| troublesome world and would willingly quit it for$4$ a 102:136;12[' ]| better, but are too squeamish to$9$ take up$5$ with that$6#2$ 102:136;13[' ]| queer old-fashioned recipe called hanging, may have 102:136;14[' ]| their business done as securely and more decently by$4$ 102:136;15[' ]| some of these excellent pills. His bolus, too, is very 102:136;16[' ]| good in$4$ its kind; I have made experiments with it on$4$ 102:136;17[' ]| several animals, and find that$3$ it poisons to$4$ a miracle. 102:136;18[' ]| A moderate dose of it has perfectly silenced a bawling 102:136;19[' ]| dog that$6#1$ used to$9$ disturb my morning slumbers, and a 102:136;20[' ]| like$2$ quantity of it has quieted several other snarling 102:136;21[' ]| curs in$4$ my neighbourhood. And then, if you be 102:136;22[' ]| troubled with rats, there is the doctor's electuary which$6#1$ 102:136;23[' ]| is an infallible remedy, as I myself have experienced. 102:136;24[' ]| I have effectually cleared my house of those troublesome 102:136;25[' ]| animals by$4$ disposing little packets of it in$4$ the 102:136;26[' ]| places they frequent, and do recommend it to$4$ you and 102:136;27[' ]| your readers as the most powerful ratsbane in$4$ the 102:136;28[' ]| world. It would be needless to$9$ enumerate all the 102:136;29[' ]| virtues of the doctor's several medicines, but I dare 102:136;30[' ]| affirm that$3$ what the ancients fabulously reported of 102:136;31[' ]| Pandora's box is strictly true of the doctor's packet, 102:136;32[' ]| and that$3$ it contains in$4$ it the seeds and principles of 102:136;33[' ]| all diseases. ~~ 102:136;33[' ]| <\Works.\> 101:308;00@@@@@| 101:308;01[' ]| 101:308;02[' ]| <1785 ~~ 1859> 101:308;03[' ]| 101:308;04[' ]| LET there be a cottage, standing in$4$ a valley, eighteen 101:308;05[' ]| miles from any town ~~ no$2$ spacious valley, but about two 101:308;06[' ]| miles long, by$4$ three-quarters of a mile in$4$ average 101:308;07[' ]| width; the benefit of which$6#1$ provision is that$3$ all the 101:308;08[' ]| families resident within its circuit will$1$ compose, as it 101:308;09[' ]| were, one larger household personally familiar to$4$ your 101:308;10[' ]| eye, and more or less interesting to$4$ your affections. 101:308;11[' ]| Let the mountains be real mountains, between three 101:308;12[' ]| and four thousand feet high; and the cottage, a real 101:308;13[' ]| cottage; not, as a witty author has it, ""a cottage with 101:308;14[' ]| a double coach house;"" let it be, in$4$ fact ~~ for$3$ I must 101:308;15[' ]| abide by$4$ the actual scene ~~ a white cottage embowered 101:308;16[' ]| with flowering shrubs, so$5#2$ chosen as to$9$ unfold a succession 101:308;17[' ]| of flowers upon$4$ the walls, and clustering round the 101:308;18[' ]| windows through all the months of spring, summer, 101:308;19[' ]| and autumn ~~ beginning, in$4$ fact, with May roses and 101:308;20[' ]| ending with jasmine. Let it, however, \not\ be spring, 101:309;01[' ]| nor summer, nor autumn ~~ but winter, in$4$ his sternest 101:309;02[' ]| shape. This is a most important point in$4$ the science 101:309;03[' ]| of happiness. And I am surprised to$9$ see people overlook 101:309;04[' ]| it, and think it matter of congratulation that$3$ 101:309;05[' ]| winter is going; or, if coming, is not likely to$9$ be a 101:309;06[' ]| severe one. On$4$ the contrary, I put up$5$ a petition 101:309;07[' ]| annually for$4$ as much snow, hail, frost, or storm, of one 101:309;08[' ]| kind or other, as the skies can possibly afford us. 101:309;09[' ]| Surely everybody is aware of the divine pleasures 101:309;10[' ]| which$6#1$ attend a winter fire-side: candles at four o'clock, 101:309;11[' ]| warm hearthrugs, tea, a fair tea-maker, shutters closed, 101:309;12[' ]| curtains flowing in$4$ ample draperies on$4$ the floor, whilst 101:309;13[' ]| the wind and rain are raging audibly without. 101:309;14[Z ]| And at the doors and windows seem to$9$ call, 101:309;15[Z ]| As heav'n and earth they would together mell; 101:309;16[Z ]| Yet the least entrance find they none at all; 101:309;17[Z ]| Whence sweeter grows our rest secure in$4$ massy hall. 101:309;18[X ]| \Castle*of*Indolence.\ 101:309;19[' ]| All these are items in$4$ the description of a winter 101:309;20[' ]| evening, which$6#1$ surely must be familiar to$4$ everybody 101:309;21[' ]| born in$4$ a high latitude. And it is evident, that$3$ most 101:309;22[' ]| of these delicacies, like$4$ ice-cream, require a very low 101:309;23[' ]| temperature of the atmosphere to$9$ produce them: they 101:309;24[' ]| are fruits which$6#1$ cannot be ripened without weather 101:309;25[' ]| stormy or inclement, in$4$ some way or other. I am not 101:309;26[' ]| ""particular"" as people say, whether it be snow or black 101:309;27[' ]| frost, or wind so$5#1$ strong, that$3$ (as Mr%*** says) ""you 101:309;28[' ]| may lean your back against it like$4$ a post."" I can put 101:309;29[' ]| up$5$ even with rain, provided it rains cats and dogs; but 101:309;30[' ]| something of the sort I must have: and, if I have it 101:309;31[' ]| not, I think myself in$4$ a manner ill-used: for$3$ why am 101:309;32[' ]| I called on$5$ to$9$ pay so$5#1$ heavily for$4$ winter, in$4$ coals, and 101:309;33[' ]| candles, and various privations that$6#1$ will$1$ occur even to$4$ 101:309;34[' ]| gentlemen, if I am not to$9$ have the article good of its 101:309;35[' ]| kind? No$7$; a Canadian winter for$4$ my money; or a 101:309;36[' ]| Russian one, where every man is but a co-proprietor 101:309;37[' ]| with the north wind in$4$ the fee-simple of his own ears. 101:309;38[' ]| Indeed, so$5#1$ great an epicure am I in$4$ this matter, that$3$ I 101:309;39[' ]| cannot relish a winter night fully if it be much past 101:310;01[' ]| St%*Thomas's day, and have degenerated into disgusting 101:310;02[' ]| tendencies to$4$ vernal appearances; no$7$, it must be 101:310;03[' ]| divided by$4$ a thick wall of dark nights from all return 101:310;04[' ]| of light and sunshine. ~~ From the latter weeks of 101:310;05[' ]| October to$4$ Christmas-eve, therefore, is the period 101:310;06[' ]| during which$6#1$ happiness is in$4$ season, which$6#1$, in$4$ my 101:310;07[' ]| judgment, enters the room with the tea-tray; for$3$ tea, 101:310;08[' ]| though ridiculed by$4$ those who$6#1$ are naturally of coarse 101:310;09[' ]| nerves, or are become so$5#2$ from wine-drinking, and are 101:310;10[' ]| not susceptible of influence from so$5#1$ refined a stimulant, 101:310;11[' ]| will$1$ always be the favourite beverage of the intellectual; 101:310;12[' ]| and, for$4$ my part, I would have joined Dr%*Johnson in$4$ 101:310;13[' ]| a \7bellum 7internecinum \ against Jonas*Hanway, or any 101:310;14[' ]| other impious person who$6#1$ should presume to$9$ disparage 101:310;15[' ]| it. ~~ But, here, to$9$ save myself the trouble of too much 101:310;16[' ]| verbal description, I will$1$ introduce a painter; and give 101:310;17[' ]| him directions for$4$ the rest of the picture. Painters do not 101:310;18[' ]| like$4$ white cottages, unless a good deal weather-stained; 101:310;19[' ]| but as the reader now understands that$3$ it is a winter 101:310;20[' ]| night, his services will$1$ not be required, except for$4$ the 101:310;21[' ]| inside of the house. 101:310;22[' ]| Paint me, then, a room seventeen feet by$4$ twelve, and 101:310;23[' ]| not more than seven and a half feet high. This, reader, 101:310;24[' ]| is somewhat ambitiously styled, in$4$ my family, the 101:310;25[' ]| drawing-room; but, being contrived ""a double debt to$9$ 101:310;26[' ]| pay,"" it is also and more justly, termed the library; for$3$ 101:310;27[' ]| it happens that$3$ books are the only article of property 101:310;28[' ]| in$4$ which$6#1$ I am richer than my neighbours. Of these, 101:310;29[' ]| I have about five thousand, collected gradually since 101:310;30[' ]| my eighteenth year. Therefore, painter, put as many 101:310;31[' ]| as you can into this room. Make it populous with 101:310;32[' ]| books: and, furthermore, paint me a good fire; and 101:310;33[' ]| furniture, plain and modest, befitting the unpretending 101:310;34[' ]| cottage of a scholar. And, near the fire paint me a 101:310;35[' ]| tea-table; and, as it is clear that$3$ no$2$ creature can come 101:310;36[' ]| to$9$ see one such a stormy night, place only two cups 101:310;37[' ]| and saucers on$4$ the tea-tray; and, if you know how to$9$ 101:310;38[' ]| paint such a thing symbolically, or otherwise, paint me 101:310;39[' ]| an eternal teapot ~~ eternal \7a 7parte 7ante\, and \7a 7parte 7post;\ 101:310;40[' ]| for$3$ I usually drink tea from eight o'clock at night to$4$ 101:311;01[' ]| four o'clock in$4$ the morning. And, as it is very unpleasant 101:311;02[' ]| to$9$ make tea, or to$9$ pour it out for$4$ oneself, 101:311;03[' ]| paint me a lovely young woman, sitting at the table. ~~ 101:311;04[' ]| <\Confessions of an English Opium-Eater.\> 102:311;05[' ]| 102:311;06[' ]| I thought that$3$ it was a Sunday morning in$4$ May, that$3$ 102:311;07[' ]| it was Easter*Sunday, and as yet very early, in$4$ the 102:311;08[' ]| morning. I was standing, as it seemed to$4$ me, at the 102:311;09[' ]| door of my own cottage. Right before me lay the very 102:311;10[' ]| scene which$6#1$ could really be commanded from that$6#2$ 102:311;11[' ]| situation, but exalted, as was usual, and solemnized by$4$ 102:311;12[' ]| the power of dreams. There were the same mountains, 102:311;13[' ]| and the same lovely valley at their feet; but the mountains, 102:311;14[' ]| were raised to$4$ more than Alpine height, and there 102:311;15[' ]| was interspace far larger between them of meadows and 102:311;16[' ]| forest lawns; the hedges were rich with white roses; 102:311;17[' ]| and no$2$ living creature was to$9$ be seen, excepting that$3$ 102:311;18[' ]| in$4$ the green churchyard there were cattle tranquilly 102:311;19[' ]| reposing upon$4$ the verdant graves, and particularly 102:311;20[' ]| round about the grave of a child whom I had tenderly 102:311;21[' ]| loved, just as I had really beheld them, a little before 102:311;22[' ]| sunrise in$4$ the same summer, when that$6#2$ child died. I 102:311;23[' ]| gazed upon$4$ the well-known scene, and I said aloud (as 102:311;24[' ]| I thought) to$4$ myself ""It yet wants much of sunrise; 102:311;25[' ]| and it is Easter*Sunday; and that$6#2$ is the day on$4$ which$6#1$ 102:311;26[' ]| they celebrate the first-fruits of resurrection. I will$1$ 102:311;27[' ]| walk abroad; old griefs shall be forgotten to-day; for$3$ 102:311;28[' ]| the air is cool and still, and the hills are high, and 102:311;29[' ]| stretch away to$4$ heaven; and the forest-glades are as 102:311;30[' ]| quiet as the churchyard; and, with the dew I can wash 102:311;31[' ]| the fever from my forehead, and then I shall be unhappy 102:311;32[' ]| no$2$ longer. And I turned, as if to$9$ open my 102:311;33[' ]| garden gate; and immediately upon$4$ the left I saw a 102:311;34[' ]| scene far different; but which$6#1$ yet the power of dreams 102:311;35[' ]| had reconciled into harmony with the other. The 102:311;36[' ]| scene was an Oriental one; and there also it was Easter*Sunday, 102:312;01[' ]| and very early in$4$ the morning. And at a vast 102:312;02[' ]| distance were visible, as a stain upon$4$ the horizon, the 102:312;03[' ]| domes and cupolas of a great city ~~ an image or faint 102:312;04[' ]| abstraction, caught perhaps in$4$ childhood from some 102:312;05[' ]| picture of Jerusalem. And not a bow-shot from me 102:312;06[' ]| upon$4$ a stone, and shaded by$4$ Judean palms, there sat a 102:312;07[' ]| woman; and I looked, and it was ~~ Ann! She fixed 102:312;08[' ]| her eyes upon$4$ me earnestly; and I said to$4$ her at length: 102:312;09[' ]| ""So$3$ then I have found you at last."" I waited: but she 102:312;10[' ]| answered me not a word. Her face was the same as 102:312;11[' ]| when I saw it last, and yet again how different! Seventeen 102:312;12[' ]| years ago, when the lamp-light fell upon$4$ her face, 102:312;13[' ]| as for$4$ the last time I kissed her lips (lips, Ann, that$6#1$ to$4$ 102:312;14[' ]| me were not polluted), her eyes were streaming with 102:312;15[' ]| tears: the tears were now wiped away; she seemed 102:312;16[' ]| more beautiful than she was at that$6#2$ time, but in$4$ all 102:312;17[' ]| other points the same, and not older. Her looks were 102:312;18[' ]| tranquil, but with unusual solemnity of expression; 102:312;19[' ]| and I now gazed upon$4$ her with some awe, but suddenly 102:312;20[' ]| her countenance grew dim, and, turning to$4$ the mountains, 102:312;21[' ]| I perceived vapours rolling between us; in$4$ a 102:312;22[' ]| moment, all had vanished; thick darkness came on$5$; 102:312;23[' ]| and, in$4$ the twinkling of an eye, I was far away from 102:312;24[' ]| mountains, and by$4$ lamplight in$4$ Oxford-Street, walking 102:312;25[' ]| again with Ann ~~ just as we walked seventeen years 102:312;26[' ]| before, when we were both children. 102:312;27[X ]| As a final specimen, I cite one of a different character, 102:312;28[X ]| from 1820. 102:312;29[' ]| The dream commenced with a music which$6#1$ now I 102:312;30[' ]| often heard in$4$ dreams ~~ a music of preparation and of 102:312;31[' ]| awakening suspense; a music like$4$ the opening of the 102:312;32[' ]| Coronation*Anthem, and which$6#1$ like$4$ \that$6#2$\, gave the 102:312;33[' ]| feeling of a vast march ~~ of infinite cavalcades filing off 102:312;34[' ]| ~~ and the tread of innumerable armies. The morning 102:312;35[' ]| was come of a mighty day ~~ a day of crisis and of final 102:312;36[' ]| hope for$4$ human nature, then suffering some mysterious 102:312;37[' ]| eclipse, and labouring in$4$ some dread extremity. 102:312;38[' ]| Somewhere, I knew not where ~~ somehow, I knew not 102:312;39[' ]| how ~~ by$4$ some beings, I knew not whom ~~ a battle, a 102:313;01[' ]| strife, an agony, was conducting ~~ was evolving like$4$ a 102:313;02[' ]| great drama, or piece of music; with which$6#1$ my sympathy 102:313;03[' ]| was the more insupportable from my confusion 102:313;04[' ]| as to$4$ its place, its cause, its nature, and its possible 102:313;05[' ]| issue. I, as is usual in$4$ dreams (where, of necessity, 102:313;06[' ]| we make ourselves central to$4$ every movement), had the 102:313;07[' ]| power, and yet had not the power, to$9$ decide it. I had 102:313;08[' ]| the power, if I could raise myself, to$9$ will$1$ it; and yet 102:313;09[' ]| again had not the power, for$3$ the weight of twenty 102:313;10[' ]| Atlantics was upon$4$ me, or the oppression of inexpiable 102:313;11[' ]| guilt. ""Deeper than ever plummet sounded,"" I lay 102:313;12[' ]| inactive. Then, like$4$ a chorus, the passion deepened. 102:313;13[' ]| Some greater interest was at stake; some mightier 102:313;14[' ]| cause than ever yet the sword had pleaded, or trumpet 102:313;15[' ]| had proclaimed. Then came sudden alarms; hurryings 102:313;16[' ]| to$8$ and fro: trepidations of innumerable fugitives, 102:313;17[' ]| I knew not whether from the good cause or the bad: 102:313;18[' ]| darkness and lights: tempest and human faces: and 102:313;19[' ]| at last, with the sense that$3$ all was lost, female forms, 102:313;20[' ]| and the features that$6#1$ were worth all the world to$4$ me, 102:313;21[' ]| and but a moment allowed, ~~ and clasped hands, and 102:313;22[' ]| heart-breaking partings, and then ~~ everlasting farewells! 102:313;23[' ]| and with a sigh, such as the caves of hell sighed 102:313;24[' ]| when the incestuous mother uttered the abhorred name 102:313;25[' ]| of death, the sound was reverberated ~~ everlasting 102:313;26[' ]| farewells! and again, and yet again reverberated ~~ 102:313;27[' ]| everlasting farewells! 102:313;28[' ]| And I awoke in$4$ struggles, and cried aloud ~~ ""I will$1$ 102:313;29[' ]| sleep no$2$ more!"" ~~ 102:313;29[' ]| <\Confessions of an English Opium-Eater.\> 301:242;00@@@@@| 301:242;00[' ]| 301:242;00[' ]| <1737-1794> 301:242;00[' ]| 301:242;01[' ]| ELATED with these praises, which$6#1$ gradually extinguished 301:242;02[' ]| the innate sense of shame, Commodus resolved 301:242;03[' ]| to$9$ exhibit, before the eyes of the Roman people, those 301:242;04[' ]| exercises which$6#1$ till then he had decently confined 301:242;05[' ]| within the walls of his palace and to$4$ the presence of a 301:242;06[' ]| few favourites. On$4$ the appointed day the various 301:242;07[' ]| motives of flattery, fear, and curiosity, attracted to$4$ the 301:243;01[' ]| amphitheatre an innumerable multitude of spectators: 301:243;02[' ]| and some degree of applause was deservedly bestowed 301:243;03[' ]| on$4$ the uncommon skill of the Imperial performer. 301:243;04[' ]| Whether he aimed at the head or heart of the animal, 301:243;05[' ]| the wound was alike certain and mortal. With arrows, 301:243;06[' ]| whose point was shaped into the form of a crescent, 301:243;07[' ]| Commodus often intercepted the rapid career and cut 301:243;08[' ]| asunder the long bony neck of the ostrich. A panther 301:243;09[' ]| was let loose; and the archer waited till he had leaped 301:243;10[' ]| upon$4$ a trembling malefactor. In$4$ the same instant the 301:243;11[' ]| shaft flew, the beast dropped dead, and the man remained 301:243;12[' ]| unhurt. The dens of the amphitheatre disgorged at 301:243;13[' ]| once a hundred lions; a hundred darts from the unerring 301:243;14[' ]| hand of Commodus laid them dead as they ran 301:243;15[' ]| raging round the \Arena\. Neither the huge bulk of 301:243;16[' ]| the elephant nor the scaly hide of the rhinoceros could 301:243;17[' ]| defend them from his stroke. A*Ethiopia and India 301:243;18[' ]| yielded their most extraordinary productions; and 301:243;19[' ]| several animals were slain in$4$ the amphitheatre which$6#1$ 301:243;20[' ]| had been seen only in$4$ the representations of art, or 301:243;21[' ]| perhaps of fancy. In$4$ all the exhibitions the surest 301:243;22[' ]| precautions were used to$9$ protect the person of the 301:243;23[' ]| Roman*Hercules from the desperate spring of any 301:243;24[' ]| savage who$6#1$ might possibly disregard the dignity of the 301:243;25[' ]| emperor and the sanctity of the god. 301:243;26[' ]| But the meanest of the populace were affected with 301:243;27[' ]| shame and indignation, when they beheld their sovereign 301:243;28[' ]| enter the lists as a gladiator, and glory in$4$ a 301:243;29[' ]| profession which$6#1$ the laws and manners of the Romans 301:243;30[' ]| had branded with the justest note of infamy. He chose 301:243;31[' ]| the habit and arms of the \Secutor\, whose combat with 301:243;32[' ]| the \Retiarius\ formed one of the most lively scenes 301:243;33[' ]| in$4$ the bloody sports of the amphitheatre. The \Secutor\ 301:243;34[' ]| was armed with an helmet, sword and buckler; his 301:243;35[' ]| naked antagonist had only a large net and a trident; 301:243;36[' ]| with the one he endeavoured to$9$ entangle, with the 301:243;37[' ]| other to$9$ dispatch, his enemy. If he missed the first 301:243;38[' ]| throw he was obliged to$9$ fly from the pursuit of the 301:243;39[' ]| \Secutor\ till he had prepared his net for$4$ a second cast. 301:243;40[' ]| The emperor fought in$4$ this character seven hundred 301:244;01[' ]| and thirty-five several times. These glorious achievements 301:244;02[' ]| were carefully recorded in$4$ the public acts of the 301:244;03[' ]| empire; and, that$3$ he might omit no$2$ circumstance of 301:244;04[' ]| infamy, he received from the common fund of gladiators 301:244;05[' ]| a stipend so$5#1$ exorbitant that$3$ it became a new and most 301:244;06[' ]| ignominious tax upon$4$ the Roman people. It may be 301:244;07[' ]| easily supposed that$3$ in$4$ these engagements the master 301:244;08[' ]| of the world was always successful; in$4$ the amphitheatre 301:244;09[' ]| his victories were not often sanguinary; but 301:244;10[' ]| when he exercised his skill in$4$ the school of gladiators, 301:244;11[' ]| or his own palace, his wretched antagonists were frequently 301:244;12[' ]| honoured with a mortal wound from the hand 301:244;13[' ]| of Commodus, and obliged to$9$ seal their flattery with 301:244;14[' ]| their blood. He now disdained the appellation of 301:244;15[' ]| Hercules. The name of Paulus, a celebrated Secutor, 301:244;16[' ]| was the only one which$6#1$ delighted his ear. It was inscribed 301:244;17[' ]| on$4$ his colossal statues, and repeated in$4$ the 301:244;18[' ]| redoubled acclamations of the mournful and applauding 301:244;19[' ]| senate. ~~ <\Decline*and Fall*of*the*Roman*Empire\.> 302:244;00[' ]| 302:244;20[' ]| Since Romulus, with a small band of shepherds and 302:244;21[' ]| outlaws, fortified himself on$4$ the hills near the Tiber, 302:244;22[' ]| ten centuries had already elapsed. During the four 302:244;23[' ]| first ages, the Romans, in$4$ the laborious school of 302:244;24[' ]| poverty, had acquired the virtues of war and government: 302:244;25[' ]| by$4$ the vigorous exertion of those virtues, and 302:244;26[' ]| by$4$ the assistance of fortune, they had obtained, in$4$ the 302:244;27[' ]| course of the three succeeding centuries, an absolute 302:244;28[' ]| empire over many countries of Europe, Asia, and 302:244;29[' ]| Africa. The last three hundred years had been consumed 302:244;30[' ]| in$4$ apparent prosperity and internal decline. 302:244;31[' ]| The nation of soldiers, magistrates, and legislators, 302:244;32[' ]| who$6#1$ composed the thirty=five tribes of the Roman 302:244;33[' ]| people, was dissolved into the common mass of mankind, 302:244;34[' ]| and confounded with the millions of servile provincials, 302:244;35[' ]| who$6#1$ had received the name, without adopting 302:245;01[' ]| the spirit, of Romans. A mercenary army, levied 302:245;02[' ]| among the subjects and barbarians of the frontier, was 302:245;03[' ]| the only order of men who$6#1$ preserved and abused their 302:245;04[' ]| independence. By$4$ their tumultuary election, a Syrian, 302:245;05[' ]| a Goth, or an Arab, was exalted to$4$ the throne of 302:245;06[' ]| Rome, and invested with despotic power over the 302:245;07[' ]| conquests and over the country of the Scipios. 302:245;08[' ]| The limits of the Roman empire still extended from 302:245;09[' ]| the Western*Ocean to$4$ the Tigris, and from Mount*Atlas 302:245;10[' ]| to$4$ the Rhine and the Danube. To$4$ the undiscerning 302:245;11[' ]| eye of the vulgar, Philip appeared a monarch 302:245;12[' ]| no$2$ less powerful than Hadrian or Augustus had formerly 302:245;13[' ]| been. The form was still the same, but the animating 302:245;14[' ]| health and vigour were fled. The industry of the 302:245;15[' ]| people was discouraged and exhausted by$4$ a long series 302:245;16[' ]| of oppression. The discipline of the legions, which$6#1$ 302:245;17[' ]| alone, after the extinction of every other virtue, had 302:245;18[' ]| propped the greatness of the state, was corrupted by$4$ 302:245;19[' ]| the ambition, or relaxed by$4$ the weakness of the emperors. 302:245;20[' ]| The strength of the frontiers, which$6#1$ had 302:245;21[' ]| always consisted in$4$ arms rather than in$4$ fortifications, 302:245;22[' ]| was insensibly undermined; and the fairest provinces 302:245;23[' ]| were left exposed to$4$ the rapaciousness or ambtion of 302:245;24[' ]| the barbarians, who$6#1$ soon discovered the decline of the 302:245;25[' ]| Roman empire. ~~< \Decline*and*Fall\.> 303:003,01[' ]| The code of laws which$6#1$ Zingis dictated to$4$ his subjects was 303:003,02[' ]| adapted to$4$ the preservation of domestic peace and the exercise 303:003,03[' ]| of foreign hostility. The punishment of death was inflicted on$4$ 303:004,01[' ]| the crimes of adultery, murder, perjury, and the capital thefts 303:004,02[' ]| of an horse or ox; and the fiercest of men were mild and just 303:004,03[' ]| in$4$ their intercourse with each other. The future election of 303:004,04[' ]| the great khan was vested in$4$ the princes of his family and the 303:004,05[' ]| heads of the tribes; and the regulations of the chase were 303:004,06[' ]| essential to$4$ the pleasures and plenty of a Tartar camp. The 303:004,07[' ]| victorious nation was held sacred from all servile labours, which$6#1$ 303:004,08[' ]| were abandoned to$4$ slaves and strangers; and every labour was 303:004,09[' ]| servile except the profession of arms. The service and discipline 303:004,10[' ]| of the troops, who$6#1$ were armed with bows, scymetars 303:004,11[' ]| and iron maces, and divided by$4$ hundreds, thousands, and ten 303:004,12[' ]| thousands, were the institutions of a veteran commander. Each 303:004,13[' ]| officer and soldier was made responsible, under pain of death, 303:004,14[' ]| for$4$ the safety and honour of his companions; and the spirit of 303:004,15[' ]| conquest breathed in$4$ the law that$3$ peace should never be granted 303:004,16[' ]| unless to$4$ a vanquished and suppliant enemy. But it is the 303:004,17[' ]| religion of Zingis that$6#1$ best deserves our wonder and applause. 303:004,18[' ]| The Catholic inquisitors of Europe, who$6#1$ defended nonsense by$4$ 303:004,19[' ]| cruelty, might have been confounded by$4$ the example of a 303:004,20[' ]| barbarian, who$6#1$ anticipated the lessons of philosophy and 303:004,21[' ]| established by$4$ his laws a system of pure theism and perfect 303:004,22[' ]| toleration. His first and only article of faith was the existence 303:004,23[' ]| of one God, the author of all good, who$6#1$ fills, by$4$ his presence, 303:004,24[' ]| the heavens and earth, which$6#1$ he has created by$4$ his power. 303:004,25[' ]| The Tartars and Moguls were addicted to$4$ the idols of their 303:004,26[' ]| peculiar tribes; and many of them had been converted by$4$ the 303:004,27[' ]| foreign missionaries to$4$ the religions of Moses, of Mahomet, and 303:004,28[' ]| of Christ. These various systems in$4$ freedom and concord were 303:004,29[' ]| taught and practised within the precints of the same camp; 303:004,30[' ]| and the Bonze, the Imam, the Rabbi, the Nestorian, and the 303:004,31[' ]| Latin priest enjoyed the same honourable exemption from 303:004,32[' ]| service and tribute. In$4$ the mosque of Bochara, the insolent 303:004,33[' ]| victor might trample the Koran under his horse's feet, but the 303:004,34[' ]| calm legislator respected the prophets and pontiffs of the most 303:004,35[' ]| hostile sects. The reason of Zingis was not informed by$4$ book; 303:005,01[' ]| the khan could neither read nor write; and, except the tribe 303:005,02[' ]| of the Igours, the greatest part of the Moguls and Tartars were 303:005,03[' ]| as illiterate as their sovereign. The memory of their exploits 303:005,04[' ]| was preserved by$4$ tradition; sixty-eight years after the death 303:005,05[' ]| of Zingis, these traditions were collected and transcribed; the 303:005,06[' ]| brevity of their domestic annals may be supplied by$4$ the Chinese, 303:005,07[' ]| Persians, Armenians, Syrians, Arabians, Greeks, 303:006,01[' ]| Russians, Poles, Hungarians and Latins; and each nation 303:007,01[' ]| will$1$ deserve credit in$4$ the relation of their own disasters and 303:007,02[' ]| defeats. 303:007,03[' ]| The arms of Zingis and his lieutenants successively reduced 303:007,04[' ]| the hordes of the desert, who$6#1$ pitched their tents between the 303:007,05[' ]| wall of China and the Volga; and the Mogul emperor became 303:007,06[' ]| the monarch of the pastoral world, the lord of many millions 303:007,07[' ]| of shepherds and soldiers, who$6#1$ felt their united strength, and 303:007,08[' ]| were impatient to$9$ rush on$4$ the mild and wealthy climates 303:007,09[' ]| of the south. His ancestors had been the tributaries of the 303:007,10[' ]| Chinese emperors; and Temugin himself had been disgraced 303:007,11[' ]| by$4$ a title of honour and servitude. The court of Pekin was 303:007,12[' ]| astonished by$4$ an embassy from its former vassal, who$6#1$ in$4$ the 303:007,13[' ]| tone of the king of nations exacted the tribute and obedience 303:007,14[' ]| which$6#1$ he had paid, and who$6#1$ affected to$9$ treat the \Son of Heaven\ 303:007,15[' ]| as the most contemptible of mankind. An haughty answer 303:007,16[' ]| disguised their secret apprehensions; and their fears were soon 303:007,17[' ]| justified by$4$ the march of innumerable squadrons, who$6#1$ pierced 303:007,18[' ]| on$4$ all sides the feeble rampart of the great wall. Ninety cities 303:007,19[' ]| were stormed, or starved, by$4$ the Moguls; ten only escaped; and 303:007,20[' ]| Zingis, from a knowledge of the filial piety of the Chinese, covered 303:007,21[' ]| his vanguard with their captive parents; an unworthy and, 303:007,22[' ]| by$4$ degrees, a fruitless abuse of the virtues of his enemies. His 303:008,01[' ]| invasion was supported by$4$ the revolt of an hundred thousand 303:008,02[' ]| Khitans, who$6#1$ guarded the frontier; yet he listened to$4$ a treaty; 303:008,03[' ]| and a princess of China, three thousand horses, five hundred 303:008,04[' ]| youths, and as many virgins, and a tribute of gold and silk, 303:008,05[' ]| were the price of his retreat. In$4$ his second expedition, he compelled 303:008,06[' ]| the Chinese emperor to$9$ retire beyond the yellow river 303:008,07[' ]| to$4$ a more southern residence. The siege of Pekin was long 303:008,08[' ]| and laborious: the inhabitants were reduced by$4$ famine to$9$ decimate 303:008,09[' ]| and devour their fellow-citizens; when their ammunition 303:008,10[' ]| was spent, they discharged ingots of gold and silver from 303:008,11[' ]| their engines; but the Moguls introduced a mine to$4$ the centre 303:008,12[' ]| of the capital; and the conflagration of the palace burnt above 303:008,13[' ]| thirty days. China was desolated by$4$ Tartar war and domestic 303:008,14[' ]| faction; and the five northern provinces were added to$4$ the 303:008,15[' ]| empire of Zingis. 303:008,16[' ]| In$4$ the West, he touched the dominions of Mohammed, sultan 303:008,17[' ]| of Carizme, who$6#1$ reigned from the Persian*Gulf to$4$ the borders 303:008,18[' ]| of India and Turkestan; and who$6#1$, in$4$ the proud imitation of 303:008,19[' ]| Alexander*the*Great, forgot the servitude and ingratitude of his 303:008,20[' ]| fathers to$4$ the house of Seljuk. It was the wish of Zingis to$9$ 303:008,21[' ]| establish a friendly and commercial intercourse with the most 303:008,22[' ]| powerful of the Moslem princes; nor could he be tempted by$4$ 303:008,23[' ]| the secret solicitations of the caliph of Bagdad, who$6#1$ sacrificed 303:008,24[' ]| to$4$ his personal wrongs the safety of the church and state. A 303:008,25[' ]| rash and inhuman deed provoked and justified the Tartar arms 303:008,26[' ]| in$4$ the invasion of the southern Asia. A caravan of three ambassadors 303:008,27[' ]| and one hundred and fifty merchants was arrested 303:009,01[' ]| and murdered at Otrar, by$4$ the command of Mohammed; nor 303:009,02[' ]| was it till after a demand and denial of justice, till he had prayed 303:009,03[' ]| and fasted three nights on$4$ a mountain, that$3$ the Mogul emperor 303:009,04[' ]| appealed to$4$ the judgment of God and his sword. Our European 303:009,05[' ]| battles, says a philosophic writer, are petty skirmishes, if compared 303:009,06[' ]| to$4$ the numbers that$6#1$ have fought and fallen in$4$ the fields of 303:009,07[' ]| Asia. Seven hundred thousand moguls and Tartars are said to$9$ 303:009,08[' ]| have marched under the standard of Zingis and his four sons. In$4$ 303:009,09[' ]| the vast plains that$6#1$ extend to$4$ the north of the Sihon or Jaxartes, 303:009,10[' ]| they were encountered by$4$ four hundred thousand soldiers of 303:009,11[' ]| the Sultan; and in$4$ the first battle, which$6#1$ was suspended by$4$ the 303:009,12[' ]| night, one hundred and sixty thousand Carizmians were slain. 303:009,13[' ]| Mohammed was astonished by$4$ the multitude and valour of his 303:009,14[' ]| enemies; he withdrew from the scene of danger, and distributed 303:009,15[' ]| his troops in$4$ the frontier towns, trusting that$3$ the barbarians, 303:009,16[' ]| invincible in$4$ the field, would be repulsed by$4$ the length and 303:009,17[' ]| difficulty of so$5#1$ many regular sieges. But the prudence of Zingis 303:009,18[' ]| had formed a body of Chinese engineers, skilled in$4$ the mechanic 303:009,19[' ]| arts, informed, perhaps, of the secret of gunpowder, and capable, 303:009,20[' ]| under his discipline, of attacking a foreign country with more 303:009,21[' ]| vigour and success than they had defended their own. The 303:009,22[' ]| Persian historians will$1$ relate the sieges and reduction of Otrar, 303:009,23[' ]| Congende, Bochara, Samarcand, Carizme, Herat, Merou, Nisabour, 303:009,24[' ]| Balch, and Candahar; and the conquest of the rich and populous 303:010,01[' ]| countries of Transoxiana, Carizme, and Chorasan. The destructive 303:010,02[' ]| hostilities of Attila and the Huns have long since been elucidated 303:010,03[' ]| by$4$ the example of Zingis and the Moguls; and in$4$ this more 303:010,04[' ]| proper place I shall be content to$9$ observe that$3$, from the Caspian 303:010,05[' ]| to$4$ the Indus, they ruined a tract of many hundred miles, which$6#1$ 303:010,06[' ]| was adorned with the habitations and labours of mankind, and 303:010,07[' ]| that$3$ five centuries have not been sufficient to$9$ repair the ravages 303:010,08[' ]| of four years. The Mogul empeor encouraged or indulged the 303:010,09[' ]| fury of his troops; the hope of future possession was lost in$4$ the 303:010,10[' ]| ardour of rapine and slaughter; and the cause of the war exasperated 303:010,11[' ]| their native fierceness by$4$ the pretence of justice and 303:010,12[' ]| revenge. The downfall and death of the sultan Mohammed, 303:010,13[' ]| who$6#1$ expired unpitied and alone in$4$ a desert island of the Caspian*Sea, 303:010,14[' ]| is a poor atonement for$4$ the calamities of which$6#1$ he was 303:010,15[' ]| the author. Could the Carizmian empire have been saved by$4$ a 303:010,16[' ]| single hero, it would have been saved by$4$ his son Gelaleddin, 303:010,17[' ]| whose active valour repeatedly checked the Moguls in$4$ the 303:010,18[' ]| career of victory. Retreating, as he fought, to$4$ the banks of the 303:010,19[' ]| Indus, he was oppressed by$4$ their innumerable host, till, in$4$ the 303:010,20[' ]| last moment of despair, Gelaleddin spurred his horse into the 303:010,21[' ]| waves, swam one of the broadest and most rapid rivers of Asia, 303:010,22[' ]| and extorted the admiration and applause of Zingis himself. It 303:010,23[' ]| was in$4$ this camp that$3$ the Mogul emperor yielded with reluctance 303:010,24[' ]| to$4$ the murmurs of his weary and wealthy troops, who$6#1$ sighed for$4$ 303:010,25[' ]| the enjoyment of their native land. Incumbered with the spoils 303:010,26[' ]| of Asia, he slowly measured back his footsteps, betrayed some 303:010,27[' ]| pity for$4$ the misery of the vanquished, and declared his intention 303:010,28[' ]| of rebuilding the cities which$6#1$ had been swept away by$4$ the 303:010,29[' ]| tempest of his arms. After he had repassed the Oxus and 303:010,30[' ]| Jaxartes, he was joined by$4$ two generals, whom he had detached 303:010,31[' ]| with thirty thousand horse, to$9$ subdue the western provinces of 303:010,32[' ]| Persia. They had trampled on$4$ the nations which$6#1$ opposed their 303:010,33[' ]| passage, penetrated through the gates of Derbend, traversed the 303:010,34[' ]| Volga, and the desert, and accomplished the circuit of the Caspian*Sea, 303:010,35[' ]| by$4$ an expedition which$6#1$ had never been attempted and has 303:010,36[' ]| never been repeated. The return of Zingis was signalised by$4$ 303:010,37[' ]| the overthrow of the rebellious or independent kingdoms of 303:010,38[' ]| Tartary; and he died in$4$ the fulness of years and glory, with 303:010,39[' ]| his last breath exhorting and instructing his sons to$9$ achieve the 303:010,40[' ]| conquest of the Chinese empire. 303:011,01[' ]| The harem of Zingis was composed of five hundred wives 303:011,02[' ]| and concubines; and of his numerous progeny, four sons, illustrious 303:011,03[' ]| by$4$ their birth and merit, exercised under their father 303:011,04[' ]| the principal offices of peace and war. Toushi was his great 303:011,05[' ]| huntsman, Zagatai his judge, Octai his minister, and Tuli his 303:011,06[' ]| general; and their names and actions are often conspicuous in$4$ 303:011,07[' ]| the history of his conquests. Firmly united for$4$ their own and 303:011,08[' ]| the public interest, the three brothers and their families were content 303:011,09[' ]| with dependent sceptres; and Octai, by$4$ general consent, 303:011,10[' ]| was proclaimed Great*Khan, or emperor of the Moguls and 303:011,11[' ]| Tartars. He was succeeded by$4$ his son Gayuk, after whose 303:011,12[' ]| death the empire devolved to$4$ his cousins, Mangou and Cublai, 303:011,13[' ]| the sons of Tuli, and the grandsons of Zingis. In$4$ the sixty-eight 303:011,14[' ]| years of his four first successors, the Moguls subdued almost 303:011,15[' ]| all Asia and a large portion of Europe. Without confining 303:011,16[' ]| myself to$4$ the order of time, without expatiating on$4$ the detail of 303:011,17[' ]| events, I shall present a general picture of the progress of their 303:011,18[' ]| arms: I. In$4$ the East; II. in$4$ the South; III. in$4$ the West; 303:011,19[' ]| and, IV. in$4$ the North. 009:300;00@@@@@| 009:300;01[' ]| 009:300;02[' ]| <\The licentiousness of the English, with regard to$4$ women. A character of a\> 009:300;03[' ]| <\woman's man.\> 009:300;04[' ]| <\To$4$ the same.\> 009:300;05[' ]| I HAVE been deceived! she whom I fancied a daughter of 009:300;06[' ]| Paradise has proved to$9$ be one of the infamous disciples of 009:300;07[' ]| Han! I have lost a trifle, I have gained the consolation of 009:300;08[' ]| having discovered a deceiver. I once more, therefore, relax 009:300;09[' ]| into my former indifference with regard to$4$ the English ladies, 009:300;10[' ]| they once more begin to$9$ appear disagreeable in$4$ my eyes: 009:300;11[' ]| Thus is my whole time passed in$4$ forming conclusions which$6#1$ 009:300;12[' ]| the next minute's experience may probably destroy; the 009:300;13[' ]| present moment becomes a comment on$4$ the past, and I improve 009:300;14[' ]| rather in$4$ humility than wisdom. 009:300;15[' ]| Their laws and religion forbid the English to$9$ keep more 009:300;16[' ]| than one woman, I therefore concluded that$3$ prostitutes were 009:300;17[' ]| banished from society; I was deceived; every man here keeps 009:300;18[' ]| as many wives as he can maintain; the laws are cemented with 009:300;19[' ]| blood, praised and disregarded. The very Chinese, whose 009:300;20[' ]| religion allows him two wives, takes not half the liberties of 009:300;21[' ]| the English in$4$ this particular. Their laws may be compared 009:300;22[' ]| to$4$ the books of the Sybils, they are held in$4$ great veneration, 009:300;23[' ]| but seldom read, or seldomer understood; even those who$6#1$ 009:300;24[' ]| pretend to$9$ be their guardians dispute about the meaning of 009:300;25[' ]| many of them, and confess their ignorance of others. The law 009:300;26[' ]| therefore which$6#1$ commands them to$9$ have but one wife, is 009:300;27[' ]| strictly observed only by$4$ those for$4$ whom one is more than 009:300;28[' ]| sufficient, or by$4$ such as have not money to$9$ buy two. As for$4$ 009:300;29[' ]| the rest, they violate it publicly, and some glory in$4$ its violation. 009:300;30[' ]| They seem to$9$ think like$4$ the Persians, that$3$ they give 009:300;31[' ]| evident marks of manhood by$4$ encreasing their seraglio. A 009:300;32[' ]| mandarine therefore here generally keeps four wives, a gentleman 009:300;33[' ]| three, and a stage-player two. As for$4$ the magistrates, the 009:300;34[' ]| country justices and squires, they are employed first in$4$ debauching 009:300;35[' ]| young virgins, and then punishing the transgression. 009:301;01[' ]| From such a picture you will$1$ be apt to$9$ conclude, that$3$ he 009:301;02[' ]| who$6#1$ employs four ladies for$4$ his amusement, has four times as 009:301;03[' ]| much constitution to$9$ spare as he who$6#1$ is contented with one; 009:301;04[' ]| that$3$ a Mandarin is much cleverer than a gentleman, and 009:301;05[' ]| a gentleman than a player, and yet it is quite the reverse; a 009:301;06[' ]| Mandarine is frequently supported on$4$ spindle shanks, appears 009:301;07[' ]| emaciated by$4$ luxury, and is obliged to$9$ have recourse to$4$ 009:301;08[' ]| variety, merely from the weakness, not the vigour of his constitution, 009:301;09[' ]| the number of his wives being the most equivocal 009:301;10[' ]| symptom of his virility. 009:301;11[' ]| Beside the country squire, there is also another set of men, 009:301;12[' ]| whose whole employment consists in$4$ corrupting beauty; 009:301;13[' ]| these the silly part of the fair sex call amiable; the more 009:301;14[' ]| sensible part of them, however, give them the title of abominable. 009:301;15[' ]| You will$1$ probably demand what are the talents of a 009:301;16[' ]| man thus caressed by$4$ the majority of the opposite sex; what 009:301;17[' ]| talents, or what beauty is he possessed of superior to$4$ the rest 009:301;18[' ]| of his fellows. To$9$ answer you directly, he has neither talents 009:301;19[' ]| nor beauty, but then he is possessed of impudence and 009:301;20[' ]| assiduity. With assiduity and impudence, men of all ages, and 009:301;21[' ]| all figures, may commence admirers. I have even been told of 009:301;22[' ]| some who$6#1$ made professions of expiring for$4$ love, when all the 009:301;23[' ]| world could perceive they were going to$9$ die of old age: 009:301;24[' ]| and what is more surprising still, such batter'd beaus are 009:301;25[' ]| generally most infamously successful. 009:301;26[' ]| A fellow of this kind employs three hours every morning 009:301;27[' ]| in$4$ dressing his head, by$4$ which$6#1$ is understood only his hair. 009:301;28[' ]| He is a professed admirer, not of any particular lady, but of 009:301;29[' ]| the whole sex. 009:301;30[' ]| He is to$9$ suppose every lady has caught cold every night, 009:301;31[' ]| which$6#1$ gives him an opportunity of calling to$9$ see how she 009:301;32[' ]| does the next morning. 009:301;33[' ]| He is upon$4$ all occasions to$9$ shew himself in$4$ very great pain 009:301;34[' ]| for$4$ the ladies; if a lady drops even a pin, he is to$9$ fly in$4$ order to$9$ 009:301;35[' ]| present it. 009:302;01[' ]| He never speaks to$4$ a lady without advancing his mouth to$4$ 009:302;02[' ]| her ear, by$4$ which$6#1$ he frequently addresses more senses than one. 009:302;03[' ]| Upon$4$ proper occasions he looks excessively tender. This is 009:302;04[' ]| performed by$4$ laying his hand upon$4$ his heart, shutting his 009:302;05[' ]| eyes, and showing his teeth. 009:302;06[' ]| He is excessively fond of dancing a minuet with the ladies, 009:302;07[' ]| by$4$ which$6#1$ is only meant walking round the floor eight or ten 009:302;08[' ]| times with his hat on$5$, affecting great gravity, and sometimes 009:302;09[' ]| looking tenderly on$4$ his partner. 009:302;10[' ]| He never affronts any man himself, and never resents an 009:302;11[' ]| affront from another. 009:302;12[' ]| He has an infinite variety of small talk upon$4$ all occasions, 009:302;13[' ]| and laughs when he has nothing more to$9$ say. 009:302;14[' ]| Such is the killing creature who$6#1$ prostrates himself to$4$ the 009:302;15[' ]| sex till he has undone them; all whose submissions are the 009:302;16[' ]| effects of design, and who$6#1$ to$9$ please the ladies almost becomes 009:302;17[' ]| himself a lady. 013:308;01[' ]| 013:308;02[' ]| <\An account of Westminster*Abbey.\> 013:308;03[' ]| <\From the same\> 013:308;04[' ]| I Am just returned from Westminster-abbey, the place of 013:308;05[' ]| sepulture for$4$ the philosophers, heroes, and kings of England. 013:308;06[' ]| What a gloom do monumental inscriptions and all the 013:308;07[' ]| venerable remains of deceased merit inspire! Imagine a temple 013:308;08[' ]| marked with the hand of antiquity, solemn as religious awe, 013:308;09[' ]| adorned with all the magnificence of barbarous profusion, 013:308;10[' ]| dim windows, fretted pillars, long colonades, and dark cielings. 013:308;11[' ]| Think then, what were my sensations at being introduced to$4$ 013:308;12[' ]| such a scene. I stood in$4$ the midst of the temple, and threw my 013:308;13[' ]| eyes round on$4$ the walls filled with the statues, the inscriptions, 013:308;14[' ]| and the monuments of the dead. 013:308;15[' ]| Alas, I said to$4$ myself, how does pride attend the puny 013:308;16[' ]| child of dust even to$4$ the grave! Even humble as I am, I possess 013:308;17[' ]| more consequence in$4$ the present scene than the greatest heroe 013:308;18[' ]| of them all; they have toiled for$4$ an hour to$9$ gain a transient 013:308;19[' ]| immortality, and are at length retired to$4$ the grave, where they 013:308;20[' ]| have no$2$ attendant but the worm, none to$9$ flatter but the 013:308;21[' ]| epitaph. 013:308;22[' ]| As I was indulging such reflections, a gentleman dressed in$4$ 013:308;23[' ]| black, perceiving me to$9$ be a strange, came up$5$, entered into 013:308;24[' ]| conversation, and politely offered to$9$ be my instructor and 013:308;25[' ]| guide through the temple. If any monument, said he, should 013:308;26[' ]| particularly excite your curiosity, I shall endeavour to$9$ satisfy 013:308;27[' ]| your demands. I accepted with thanks the gentleman's offer, 013:308;28[' ]| adding, that$3$ "I was come to$9$ observe the policy, the wisdom, 013:308;29[' ]| and the justice of the English, in$4$ conferring rewards upon$4$ 013:308;30[' ]| deceased merit. If adulation like$4$ this, continued I, be properly 013:308;31[' ]| conducted, as it can no$2$ ways injure those who$6#1$ are flattered, so$3$ 013:308;32[' ]| it may be a glorious incentive to$4$ those who$6#1$ are now capable of 013:308;33[' ]| enjoying it. It is the duty of every good government to$9$ turn 013:308;34[' ]| this monumental pride to$4$ its own advantage; to$9$ become strong 013:309;01[' ]| in$4$ the aggregate from the weakness of the individual. If none 013:309;02[' ]| but the truly great have a place in$4$ this awful repository, a 013:309;03[' ]| temple like$4$ this will$1$ give the finest lessons of morality, and be 013:309;04[' ]| a strong incentive to$4$ true ambition. I am told, that$3$ none have a 013:309;05[' ]| place here but characters of the most distinguished merit." 013:309;06[' ]| The man in$4$ black seemed impatient at my observations, so$3$ I 013:309;07[' ]| discontinued my remarks, and we walked on$5$ together to$9$ take 013:309;08[' ]| a view of every particular monument in$4$ order as it lay. 013:309;09[' ]| As the eye is naturally caught by$4$ the finest objects, I could 013:309;10[' ]| not avoid being particularly curious about one monument 013:309;11[' ]| which$6#1$ appeared more beautiful than the rest; that$6#2$, said I to$4$ 013:309;12[' ]| my guide, I take to$9$ be the tomb of some very great man. 013:309;13[' ]| By$4$ the peculiar excellence of the workmanship, and the 013:309;14[' ]| magnificence of the design, this must be a trophy raised to$4$ the 013:309;15[' ]| memory of some king who$6#1$ has saved his country from ruin, 013:309;16[' ]| or law-giver, who$6#1$ has reduced his fellow-citizens from anarchy 013:309;17[' ]| into just subjection ~~ It is not requisite, replied my companion 013:309;18[' ]| smiling, to$9$ have such qualifications in$4$ order to$9$ have a 013:309;19[' ]| very fine monument here. Most humble abilities will$1$ suffice. 013:309;20[' ]| \What, I suppose then, the gaining two or three battles, or the\ 013:309;21[' ]| \taking half a score towns, is thought a sufficient qualification?\ 013:309;22[' ]| Gaining battles, or taking towns, replied the man in$4$ black, 013:309;23[' ]| may be of service; but a gentleman may have a very fine 013:309;24[' ]| monument here without ever seeing a battle or a siege. \This\ 013:309;25[' ]| \then is the monument of some poet, I presume, of one whose\ 013:309;26[' ]| \wit has gained him immortality?\ No$7$, sir, replied my guide, the 013:309;27[' ]| gentleman who$6#1$ lies here never made verses; and as for$4$ wit, he 013:309;28[' ]| despised it in$4$ others, because he had none himself. \Pray tell me\ 013:309;29[' ]| \then in$4$ a word,\ said I peevishly, \what is the great man who$6#1$ lies\ 013:309;30[' ]| \here particularly remarkable for$4$?\ Remarkable, sir! said my 013:309;31[' ]| companion; why, sir, the gentleman that$6#1$ lies here is remarkable, 013:309;32[' ]| very remarkable ~~ for$4$ a tomb in$4$ Westminster-abbey. 013:309;33[' ]| \But, head of my Ancestors! how has he got here? I fancy he\ 013:309;34[' ]| \could never bribe the guardians of the temple to$9$ give him a place:\ 013:309;35[' ]| \Should he not be ashamed to$9$ be seen among company, where even\ 013:310;01[' ]| \moderate merit would look like$4$ infamy?\ I suppose, replied the 013:310;02[' ]| man in$4$ black, the gentleman was rich, and his friends, as is 013:310;03[' ]| usual in$4$ such a case, told him he was great. He readily believed 013:310;04[' ]| them; the guardians of the temple, as they got by$4$ the self-delusion, 013:310;05[' ]| were ready to$9$ believe him too; so$3$ he paid his money 013:310;06[' ]| for$4$ a fine monument; and the workman, as you see, has made 013:310;07[' ]| him one the most beautiful. Think not, however, that$3$ this 013:310;08[' ]| gentleman is singular in$4$ his desire of being buried among the 013:310;09[' ]| great, there are several others in$4$ the temple, who$6#1$, hated and 013:310;10[' ]| shunned by$4$ the great while alive, have come here, fully 013:310;11[' ]| resolved to$9$ keep them company now they are dead. 013:310;12[' ]| As we walked along to$4$ a particular part of the temple, 013:310;13[' ]| there, says the gentleman, pointing with his finger, that$6#2$ is 013:310;14[' ]| the poets corner; there you see the monuments of Shakespear, 013:310;15[' ]| and Milton and Prior, and Drayton. Drayton, I replied, 013:310;16[' ]| I never heard of him before, but I have been told of 013:310;17[' ]| one Pope, is he there? It is time enough, replied my guide, 013:310;18[' ]| these hundred years, he is not long dead, people have not done 013:310;19[' ]| hating him yet. Strange, cried I, can any be found to$9$ hate a 013:310;20[' ]| man, whose life was wholly spent in$4$ entertaining and instructing 013:310;21[' ]| his fellow creatures! Yes, says my guide, they hate him 013:310;22[' ]| for$4$ that$6#2$ very reason. There are a set of men called answerers 013:310;23[' ]| of books, who$6#1$ take upon$4$ them to$9$ watch the republic of letters, 013:310;24[' ]| and distribute reputation by$4$ the sheet; they somewhat resemble 013:310;25[' ]| the eunuchs in$4$ a seraglio, who$6#1$ are incapable of giving 013:310;26[' ]| pleasure themselves, and hinder those that$6#1$ would. These 013:310;27[' ]| answerers have no$2$ other employment but to$9$ cry out Dunce, 013:310;28[' ]| and Scribbler, to$9$ praise the dead, and revile the living, to$9$ 013:310;29[' ]| grant a man of confessed abilities some small share of merit, 013:310;30[' ]| to$9$ applaud twenty blockheads in$4$ order to$9$ gain the reputation 013:310;31[' ]| of candour, and to$9$ revile the moral character of the man whose 013:310;32[' ]| writings they cannot injure. Such wretches are kept in$4$ pay by$4$ 013:311;01[' ]| some mercenary bookseller, or more frequently, the bookseller 013:311;02[' ]| himself takes this dirty work off their hands, as all that$6#1$ 013:311;03[' ]| is required is to$9$ be very abusive and very dull; every Poet of 013:311;04[' ]| any genius is sure to$9$ find such enemies, he feels, though he 013:311;05[' ]| seems to$9$ despise their malice, they make him miserable here, 013:311;06[' ]| and in$4$ the pursuit of empty fame, at last he gains solid 013:311;07[' ]| anxiety. 013:311;08[' ]| \Has this been the case with every poet I see here?\ cried I ~~ 013:311;09[' ]| Yes, with every mother's son of them, replied he, except he 013:311;10[' ]| happened to$9$ be born a mandarine. If he has much money, 013:311;11[' ]| he may buy reputation from your book answerers, as well as a 013:311;12[' ]| monument from the guardians of the temple. 013:311;13[' ]| \But are there not some men of distinguished taste, as in$4$ China,\ 013:311;14[' ]| \who$6#1$ are willing to$9$ patronize men of merit and soften the rancour of\ 013:311;15[' ]| \malevolent dulness?\ 013:311;16[' ]| I own there are many, replied the man in$4$ black, but, alas! 013:311;17[' ]| Sir, the book answerers croud about them, and call themselves 013:311;18[' ]| the writers of books; and the patron is too indolent, to$9$ 013:311;19[' ]| distinguish; thus poets are kept at a distance, while their 013:311;20[' ]| enemies eat up$5$ all their rewards at the mandarine's table. 013:311;21[' ]| Leaving this part of the temple, we made up$5$ to$4$ an iron 013:311;22[' ]| gate, through which$6#1$ my companion told me we were to$9$ pass 013:311;23[' ]| in$4$ order to$9$ see the monuments of the kings. Accordingly I 013:311;24[' ]| marched up$5$ without further ceremony, and was going to$9$ 013:311;25[' ]| enter, when a person who$6#1$ held the gate in$4$ his hand, told me 013:311;26[' ]| I must pay first. I was surprised at such a demand; and asked 013:311;27[' ]| the man whether the people of England kept a \shew\? Whether 013:311;28[' ]| the paltry sum he demanded was not a national reproach? 013:311;29[' ]| Whether it was not more to$4$ the honour of the country to$9$ let 013:311;30[' ]| their magnificence or their antiquities be openly seen, than 013:311;31[' ]| thus meanly to$9$ tax a curiosity which$6#1$ tended to$4$ their own 013:311;32[' ]| honour? As for$4$ your questions, replied the gate-keeper, to$9$ be 013:311;33[' ]| sure they may be very right, because I do not understand them, 013:311;34[' ]| but as for$4$ that$6#2$ there three-pence, I farm it from one, who$6#1$ rents 013:311;35[' ]| it from another, who$6#1$ hires it from a third, who$6#1$ leases it from 013:312;01[' ]| the guardians of the temple, and we all must live. I expected 013:312;02[' ]| upon$4$ paying here to$9$ see something extraordinary, since what I 013:312;03[' ]| had seen for$4$ nothing filled me with so$5#1$ much surprize; but in$4$ 013:312;04[' ]| this I was disappointed; there was little more within than 013:312;05[' ]| black coffins, rusty armour, tatter'd standards, and some few 013:312;06[' ]| slovenly figures in$4$ wax. I was sorry I had paid, but I comforted 013:312;07[' ]| myself by$4$ considering it would be my last payment. A person 013:312;08[' ]| attended us, who$6#1$, without once blushing, told an hundred 013:312;09[' ]| lies, he talked of a lady who$6#1$ died by$4$ pricking her finger, of a 013:312;10[' ]| king with a golden head, and twenty such pieces of absurdity; 013:312;11[' ]| Look ye there, gentlemen, says he, pointing to$4$ an old oak 013:312;12[' ]| chair, there is a curiosity for$4$ ye; in$4$ that$6#2$ chair the kings of 013:312;13[' ]| England were crowned, you see also a stone underneath, and 013:312;14[' ]| that$6#2$ stone is Jacob's pillow. I could see no$2$ curiosity either in$4$ 013:312;15[' ]| the oak chair or the stone; could I, indeed, behold one of the 013:312;16[' ]| old kings of England seated in$4$ this, or Jacob's head laid upon$4$ 013:312;17[' ]| the other, there might be something curious in$4$ the sight; but 013:312;18[' ]| in$4$ the present case, there was no$2$ more reason for$4$ my surprize 013:312;19[' ]| than if I should pick a stone from their streets, and call it a 013:312;20[' ]| curiosity, merely because one of their kings happened to$9$ tread 013:312;21[' ]| upon$4$ it as he passed in$4$ a procession. 013:312;22[' ]| From hence our conductor led us through several dark 013:312;23[' ]| walks and winding ways, uttering lies, talking to$4$ himself, 013:312;24[' ]| and flourishing a wand which$6#1$ he held in$4$ his hand. He reminded 013:312;25[' ]| me of the black magicians of Kobi. After we had been almost 013:312;26[' ]| fatigued with a variety of objects, he, at last, desired me to$9$ 013:312;27[' ]| consider attentively a certain suit of armour, which$6#1$ seemed 013:312;28[' ]| to$9$ shew nothing remarkable. This armour, said he, belonged 013:312;29[' ]| to$4$ general*Monk. \Very surprising, that$3$ a general should wear\ 013:312;30[' ]| \armour.\ And pray, added he, observe this cap, this is general*Monk's 013:312;31[' ]| cap. \Very strange, indeed, very strange, that$6#2$ general\ 013:312;32[' ]| \should have a cap also! Pray friend, what might this cap have\ 013:312;33[' ]| \cost originally?\ That$6#2$, Sir, says he, I do not know, but this cap 013:312;34[' ]| is all the wages I have for$4$ my trouble. \A very small recompence,\ 013:312;35[' ]| \truly,\ said I. Not so$5#1$ very small, replied he, for$3$ every gentleman 013:313;01[' ]| puts some money into it, and I spend the money. \What, more\ 013:313;02[' ]| \money! still more money!\ Every gentleman gives something, 013:313;03[' ]| sir. I will$1$ give thee nothing, returned I; the guardians of the 013:313;04[' ]| temple should pay you your wages, friend, and not permit 013:313;05[' ]| you to$9$ squeeze thus from every spectator. When we pay our 013:313;06[' ]| money at the door to$9$ see a shew, we never give more as we 013:313;07[' ]| are going out. Sure the guardians of the temple can never 013:313;08[' ]| think they get enough. Shew me the gate; if I stay longer, I 013:313;09[' ]| may probably meet with more of those ecclesiastical beggars. 013:313;10[' ]| Thus leaving the temple precipitately, I returned to$4$ my 013:313;11[' ]| lodgings, in$4$ order to$9$ ruminate over what was great, and to$9$ 013:313;12[' ]| despise what was mean in$4$ the occurrences of the day. 101:189;00@@@@@| 101:189;01[' ]| 101:189;02[' ]| <1711 ~~ 1776> 101:189;03[' ]| 101:189;04[' ]| It is easy to$9$ observe, that$3$ comic writers exaggerate 101:189;05[' ]| every character, and draw their fop or coward with 101:189;06[' ]| stronger features than are anywhere to$9$ be met with 101:189;07[' ]| in$4$ nature. This moral kind of painting for$4$ the stage 101:189;08[' ]| has been often compared to$4$ the painting for$4$ cupolas 101:189;09[' ]| and ceilings, where the colours are overcharged, and 101:189;10[' ]| every part is drawn excessively large, and beyond 101:190;01[' ]| nature. The figures seem monstrous and disproportioned, 101:190;02[' ]| when seen too nigh; but become natural 101:190;03[' ]| and regular, when set at a distance, and placed in$4$ 101:190;04[' ]| that$6#2$ point of view, in$4$ which$6#1$ they are intended to$9$ be 101:190;05[' ]| surveyed. For$4$ a like$2$ reason, when characters are 101:190;06[' ]| exhibited in$4$ theatrical representations, the want of 101:190;07[' ]| reality removes, in$4$ a manner, the personages; and 101:190;08[' ]| rendering them more cold and unentertaining, makes 101:190;09[' ]| it necessary to$9$ compensate, by$4$ the force of colouring, 101:190;10[' ]| what they want in$4$ substance. Thus we find in$4$ common 101:190;11[' ]| life, that$3$ when a man once allows himself to$9$ depart 101:190;12[' ]| from truth in$4$ his narrations, he never can keep within 101:190;13[' ]| bounds of probability; but adds still some new circumstance 101:190;14[' ]| to$9$ render his stories more marvellous, and 101:190;15[' ]| to$9$ satisfy his imagination. Two men in$4$ buckram suits 101:190;16[' ]| became eleven to$4$ Sir*John*Falstaff, before the end of 101:190;17[' ]| the story. 101:190;18[' ]| There is only one vice, which$6#1$ may be found in$4$ life 101:190;19[' ]| with as strong features, and as high a colouring as 101:190;20[' ]| need be employed by$4$ any satirist or comic poet; and 101:190;21[' ]| that$6#2$ is Avarice. Every day we meet with men of 101:190;22[' ]| immense fortunes, without heirs, and on$4$ the very 101:190;23[' ]| brink of the grave, who$6#1$ refuse themselves the most 101:190;24[' ]| common necessaries of life, and go on$5$ heaping possessions 101:190;25[' ]| on$4$ possessions under all the real pressures of the 101:190;26[' ]| severest poverty. An old usurer, says the story, lying 101:190;27[' ]| in$4$ his last agonies, was presented by$4$ the priest with 101:190;28[' ]| the crucifix to$9$ worship. He opens his eyes a moment 101:190;29[' ]| before he expires, considers the crucifix, and cries, 101:190;30[Z ]| \These jewels are not true; I can only lend ten pistoles\ 101:190;31[Z ]| \upon$4$ such a pledge.\ 101:190;31[' ]| This was probably the invention 101:190;32[' ]| of some epigrammatist; and yet every*one, from his 101:190;33[' ]| own experience, may be able to$9$ recollect almost as 101:190;34[' ]| strong instances of perseverance in$4$ avarice. It is 101:190;35[' ]| commonly reported of a famous miser in$4$ this city, 101:190;36[' ]| that$3$ finding himself near death, he sent for$4$ some of 101:190;37[' ]| the magistrates, and gave them a bill of an hundred 101:190;38[' ]| pounds, payable after his decease, which$6#1$ sum he intended 101:190;39[' ]| should be disposed of in$4$ charitable uses; but 101:190;40[' ]| scarce were they gone, when he orders them to$9$ be 101:191;01[' ]| called back, and offers them ready money if they 101:191;02[' ]| would abate five pounds of the sum. Another noted 101:191;03[' ]| miser in$4$ the north, intending to$9$ defraud his heirs, 101:191;04[' ]| and leave his fortune to$4$ the building an hospital, protracted 101:191;05[' ]| the drawing of his will$0$ from day to$4$ day; and 101:191;06[' ]| it is thought, that$3$ if those interested in$4$ it had not 101:191;07[' ]| paid for$4$ the drawing of it, he would have died intestate. 101:191;08[' ]| In$4$ short, none of the most furious excesses of love and 101:191;09[' ]| ambition are, in$4$ any respect, to$9$ be compared to$4$ the 101:191;10[' ]| extremes of avarice. 101:191;11[' ]| The best excuse that$6#1$ can be made for$4$ avarice is, 101:191;12[' ]| that$3$ it generally prevails in$4$ old men, or in$4$ men of 101:191;13[' ]| cold tempers, where all the other affections are extinct; 101:191;14[' ]| and the mind being incapable of remaining without 101:191;15[' ]| some passion or pursuit, at last finds out this monstrously 101:191;16[' ]| absurd one, which$6#1$ suits the coldness and 101:191;17[' ]| inactivity of its temper. At the same time, it seems 101:191;18[' ]| very extraordinary, that$3$ so$5#1$ frosty, spiritless a passion 101:191;19[' ]| should be able to$9$ carry us further than all the warmth 101:191;20[' ]| of youth and pleasure. But if we look more narrowly 101:191;21[' ]| into the matter, we shall find, that$3$ this very circumstance 101:191;22[' ]| renders the explication of the case more easy. 101:191;23[' ]| When the temper is warm and full of vigour, it naturally 101:191;24[' ]| shoots out more ways than one, and produces 101:191;25[' ]| inferior passions to$9$ counterbalance, in$4$ some degree 101:191;26[' ]| its predominant inclination. It is impossible for$4$ a 101:191;27[' ]| person of that$6#2$ temper, however bent on$4$ any pursuit, 101:191;28[' ]| to$9$ be deprived of all sense of shame, or all regard to$4$ 101:191;29[' ]| sentiments of mankind. His friends must have some 101:191;30[' ]| influence over him; and other considerations are apt 101:191;31[' ]| to$9$ have their weight. All this serves to$9$ restrain him 101:191;32[' ]| within some bounds. But it is no$2$ wonder that$3$ the 101:191;33[' ]| avaricious man, being, from the coldness of his temper, 101:191;34[' ]| without regard to$4$ reputation, to$4$ friendship, or to$4$ 101:191;35[' ]| pleasure, should be carried so$5#1$ far by$4$ his prevailing 101:191;36[' ]| inclination, and should display his passion in$4$ such 101:191;37[' ]| surprising instances. 101:191;38[' ]| Accordingly, we find no$2$ vice so$5#1$ irreclaimable as 101:191;39[' ]| avarice; and though there scarcely has been a moralist 101:191;40[' ]| or philosopher, from the beginning of the world to$4$ 101:192;01[' ]| this day, who$6#1$ has not levelled a stroke at it, we hardly 101:192;02[' ]| find a single instance of any person's being cured of 101:192;03[' ]| it. For$4$ this reason, I am more apt to$9$ approve of those 101:192;04[' ]| who$6#1$ attack it with wit and humour, than of those who$6#1$ 101:192;05[' ]| treat it in$4$ a serious manner. There being so$5#1$ little 101:192;06[' ]| hopes of doing good to$4$ the people infected with this 101:192;07[' ]| vice, I would have the rest of mankind at least, 101:192;08[' ]| diverted by$4$ our manner of exposing it; as indeed there 101:192;09[' ]| is no$2$ kind of diversion, of which$6#1$ they seem so$5#1$ willing 101:192;10[' ]| to$9$ partake. 101:192;11[' ]| Among the fables of Monsieur*de*la*Motte, there 101:192;12[' ]| is one levelled against avarice, which$6#1$ seems to$4$ me 101:192;13[' ]| more natural and easy than most of the fables of that$6#2$ 101:192;14[' ]| ingenious author. A miser, says he, being dead, and 101:192;15[' ]| fairly interred, came to$4$ the banks of the Styx, desiring 101:192;16[' ]| to$9$ be ferried over along with the other ghosts. Charon 101:192;17[' ]| demands his fare, and is surprised to$9$ see the miser, 101:192;18[' ]| rather than pay it, throw himself into the river, and 101:192;19[' ]| swim over to$4$ the other side, notwithstanding all the 101:192;20[' ]| clamour and opposition that$6#1$ could be made to$4$ him. 101:192;21[' ]| All hell was in$4$ an uproar; and each of the judges was 101:192;22[' ]| meditating some punishment suitable to$4$ a crime of 101:192;23[' ]| such dangerous consequence to$4$ the infernal revenues. 101:192;24[' ]| Shall he be chained to$4$ the rock with Prometheus? or 101:192;25[' ]| tremble below the precipice in$4$ company with the 101:192;26[' ]| Danaides? or assist Sisyphus in$4$ rolling his stone? 101:192;27[' ]| No$7$, says Minos, none of these. We must invent 101:192;28[' ]| some severer punishment. Let him be sent back to$4$ 101:192;29[' ]| the earth, to$9$ see the use his heirs are making of his 101:192;30[' ]| riches. 101:192;31[' ]| I hope it will$1$ not be interpreted as a design of 101:192;32[' ]| setting myself in$4$ opposition to$4$ this celebrated author, 101:192;33[' ]| if I proceed to$9$ deliver a fable of my own, which$6#1$ is 101:192;34[' ]| intended to$9$ expose the same vice of avarice. The hint 101:192;35[' ]| of it was taken from these lines of Mr%*Pope: ~~ 101:192;36[Z ]| Damn'd to$4$ the mines, an equal fate betides 101:192;37[Z ]| The slave that$6#1$ digs it, and the slave that$6#1$ hides. 101:192;39[' ]| Our old mother Earth once lodged an indictment 101:192;40[' ]| against Avarice before the courts of heaven, for$4$ her 101:193;01[' ]| wicked and malicious counsel and advice in$4$ tempting, 101:193;02[' ]| inducing, persuading, and traitorously seducing the 101:193;03[' ]| children of the plaintiff to$9$ commit the detestable crime 101:193;04[' ]| of parricide upon$4$ her, and mangling the body, ransack 101:193;05[' ]| her very bowels for$4$ hidden treasure. The indictment 101:193;06[' ]| was very long and verbose; but we must omit 101:193;07[' ]| a great part of the repetitions and synonymous terms, 101:193;08[' ]| not to$9$ tire our readers too much with our tale. Avarice, 101:193;09[' ]| being called before Jupiter to$9$ answer to$4$ this charge, 101:193;10[' ]| had not much to$9$ say in$4$ her own defence. The injury 101:193;11[' ]| was clearly proved upon$4$ her. The fact, indeed, was 101:193;12[' ]| notorious, and the injury had been frequently repeated. 101:193;13[' ]| When, therefore, the plaintiff demanded justice, Jupiter 101:193;14[' ]| very readily gave sentence in$4$ her favour; and his decree 101:193;15[' ]| was to$4$ this purpose ~~ That$3$, since dame*Avarice, 101:193;16[' ]| the defendant, had thus grievously injured dame*Earth, 101:193;17[' ]| the plaintiff, she was hereby ordered to$9$ take that$6#2$ 101:193;18[' ]| treasure, of which$6#1$ she had feloniously robbed the said 101:193;19[' ]| plaintiff by$4$ ransacking her bosom, and restore it back 101:193;20[' ]| to$4$ her without diminution or retention. From this 101:193;21[' ]| sentence it will$1$ follow, says Jupiter to$4$ the by-standers, 101:193;22[' ]| that$3$ in$4$ all future ages, the retainers of Avarice shall 101:193;23[' ]| bury and conceal their riches, and thereby restore to$4$ 101:193;24[' ]| the earth what they take from her. ~~ 101:193;24[' ]| <\Essays.\> 101:046;00@@@@@| 101:046;01[' ]| 101:046;02[' ]| THERE is a delightful child's story, known by$4$ 101:046;03[' ]| the title of "Jack*and*the*Bean-stalk," with 101:046;04[' ]| which$6#1$ my contemporaries who$6#1$ are present will$1$ be 101:046;05[' ]| familiar. But so$5#1$ many of our grave and reverend 101:046;06[' ]| juniors have been brought up$5$ on$4$ severer intellectual 101:046;07[' ]| diet, and perhaps, have become acquainted 101:046;08[' ]| with fairyland only through primers of comparative 101:046;09[' ]| mythology, that$3$ it may be needful to$9$ give an outline 101:046;10[' ]| of the tale. It is a legend of a bean-plant, 101:046;11[' ]| which$6#1$ grows and grows until it reaches the high 101:046;12[' ]| heavens and there spreads out into a vast canopy 101:046;13[' ]| of foliage. The hero, being moved to$9$ climb the 101:046;14[' ]| stalk, discovers that$3$ the leafy expanse supports a 101:046;15[' ]| world composed of the same elements as that$6#2$ 101:046;16[' ]| below, but yet strangely new; and his adventures 101:046;17[' ]| there, on$4$ which$6#1$ I may not dwell, must have completely 101:047;01[' ]| changed his views of the nature of things; 101:047;02[' ]| though the story, not having been composed by$4$, 101:047;03[' ]| or for$4$, philosophers, has nothing to$9$ say about 101:047;04[' ]| views. 101:047;05[' ]| My present enterprise has a certain analogy to$4$ 101:047;06[' ]| that$6#2$ of the daring adventurer. I beg you to$9$ 101:047;07[' ]| accompany me in$4$ an attempt to$9$ reach a world 101:047;08[' ]| which$6#1$, to$4$ many, is probably strange, by$4$ the help 101:047;09[' ]| of a bean. It is, as you know, a simple, inert-looking 101:047;10[' ]| thing. Yet, if planted under proper conditions, 101:047;11[' ]| of which$6#1$ sufficient warmth is one of the 101:047;12[' ]| most important, it manifests active powers of a 101:047;13[' ]| very remarkable kind. A small green seedling 101:047;14[' ]| emerges, rises to$4$ the surface of the soil, rapidly 101:047;15[' ]| increases in$4$ size and, at the same time, undergoes 101:047;16[' ]| a series of metamorphoses which$6#1$ do not excite our 101:047;17[' ]| wonder as much as those which$6#1$ meet us in$4$ 101:047;18[' ]| legendary history, merely because they are to$9$ be 101:047;19[' ]| seen every day and all day long. 101:047;20[' ]| By$4$ insensible steps, the plant builds itself up$5$ 101:047;21[' ]| into a large and various fabric of root, stem, leaves, 101:047;22[' ]| flowers, and fruit, every one moulded within and 101:047;23[' ]| without in$4$ accordance with an extremely complex 101:047;24[' ]| but, at the same time, minutely defined pattern. 101:047;25[' ]| In$4$ each of these complicated structures, as in$4$ their 101:047;26[' ]| smallest constituents, there is an immanent energy 101:047;27[' ]| which$6#1$, in$4$ harmony with that$6#2$ resident in$4$ all the 101:047;28[' ]| others, incessantly works towards the maintenance 101:047;29[' ]| of the whole and the efficient performance of the 101:047;30[' ]| part which$6#1$ it has to$9$ play in$4$ the economy of nature. 101:048;01[' ]| But no$2$ sooner has the edifice, reared with such 101:048;02[' ]| exact elaboration, attained completeness, than it 101:048;03[' ]| begins to$9$ crumble. By$4$ degrees, the plant withers 101:048;04[' ]| and disappears from view, leaving behind more or 101:048;05[' ]| fewer apparently inert and simple bodies, just like$4$ 101:048;06[' ]| the bean from which$6#1$ it sprang; and, like$4$ it, endowed 101:048;07[' ]| with the potentiality of giving rise to$4$ a 101:048;08[' ]| similar cycle of manifestations. 101:048;09[' ]| Neither the poetic nor the scientific imagination 101:048;10[' ]| is put to$4$ much strain in$4$ the search after analogies 101:048;11[' ]| with this process of going forth and, as it were, 101:048;12[' ]| returning to$4$ the starting-point. It may be likened 101:048;13[' ]| to$4$ the ascent and descent of a slung stone, or 101:048;14[' ]| the course of an arrow along its trajectory. Or 101:048;15[' ]| we may say that$3$ the living energy takes first an 101:048;16[' ]| upward and then a downward road. Or it may 101:048;17[' ]| seem preferable to$9$ compare the expansion of the 101:048;18[' ]| germ into the full-grown plant, to$4$ the unfolding 101:048;19[' ]| of a fan, or to$4$ the rolling forth and widening of a 101:048;20[' ]| stream; and thus to$9$ arrive at the conception of 101:048;21[' ]| ""development,"" or ""evolution."" Here as elsewhere, 101:048;22[' ]| Names are ""noise and smoke""; the important 101:048;23[' ]| point is to$9$ have a clear and adequate 101:048;24[' ]| conception of the fact signified by$4$ a name. And, 101:048;25[' ]| in$4$ this case, the fact is the Sisypha*ean process, in$4$ 101:048;26[' ]| the course of which$6#1$, the living and growing plant 101:048;27[' ]| passes from the relative simplicity and latent 101:048;28[' ]| potentiality of the seed to$4$ the full epiphany of a 101:048;29[' ]| highly differentiated type, thence to$9$ fall back to$4$ 101:048;30[' ]| simplicity and potentiality. 101:049;01[' ]| The value of a strong intellectual grasp of the 101:049;02[' ]| nature of this process lies in$4$ the circumstance that$3$ 101:049;03[' ]| what is true of the bean is true of living things in$4$ 101:049;04[' ]| general. From very low forms up$5$ to$4$ the highest 101:049;05[' ]| ~~ in$4$ the animal no$2$ less than in$4$ the vegetable 101:049;06[' ]| kingdom ~~ the process of life presents the same 101:049;07[' ]| appearance of cyclical evolution. Nay, we have 101:049;08[' ]| but to$9$ cast our eyes over the rest of the world and 101:049;09[' ]| cyclical change presents itself on$4$ all sides. It 101:049;10[' ]| meets us in$4$ the water that$6#1$ flows to$4$ the sea and 101:049;11[' ]| returns to$4$ the springs; in$4$ the heavenly bodies 101:049;12[' ]| that$6#1$ wax and wane, go and return to$4$ their places; 101:049;13[' ]| in$4$ the inexorable sequence of the ages of man's 101:049;14[' ]| life; in$4$ that$6#2$ successive rise, apogee, and fall of 101:049;15[' ]| dynasties and of states which$6#1$ is the most prominent 101:049;16[' ]| topic of civil history. 101:049;17[' ]| As no$2$ man fording a swift stream can dip his 101:049;18[' ]| foot twice into the same water, so$3$ no$2$ man can, 101:049;19[' ]| with exactness, affirm of anything in$4$ the sensible 101:049;20[' ]| world that$3$ it is. As he utters the words, nay, 101:049;21[' ]| as he thinks them, the predicate ceases to$9$ be 101:049;22[' ]| applicable; the present has become the past; the 101:049;23[' ]| ""is"" should be ""was."" And the more we learn of 101:049;24[' ]| the nature of things, the more evident is it that$6#2$ 101:049;25[' ]| what we call rest is only unperceived activity; 101:049;26[' ]| that$6#2$ seeming peace is silent but strenuous battle. 101:049;27[' ]| In$4$ every part, at every moment, the state of the 101:049;28[' ]| cosmos is the expression of a transitory adjustment 101:049;29[' ]| of contending forces; a scene of strife, in$4$ 101:049;30[' ]| which$6#1$ all the combatants fall in$4$ turn. What is 101:050;01[' ]| true of each part, is true of the whole. Natural 101:050;02[' ]| knowledge tends more and more to$9$ be conclusion 101:050;03[' ]| that$3$ "all the choir of heaven and furniture of the 101:050;04[' ]| earth"" are the transitory forms of parcels of cosmic 101:050;05[' ]| substance wending along the road of evolution, 101:050;06[' ]| from nebulous potentiality, through endless 101:050;07[' ]| growths of sun and planet and satellite; through 101:050;08[' ]| all varieties of matter; through infinite diversities 101:050;09[' ]| of life and thought; possibly, through modes of 101:050;10[' ]| being of which$6#1$ we neither have a conception, nor 101:050;11[' ]| are competent to$9$ form any, back to$4$ the indefinable 101:050;12[' ]| latency from which$6#1$ they arose. Thus the 101:050;13[' ]| most obvious attribute of the cosmos is its impermanence. 101:050;14[' ]| It assumes the aspect not so$5#1$ much of 101:050;15[' ]| a permanent entity as of a changeful process, in$4$ 101:050;16[' ]| which$6#1$ naught endures save the flow of energy and 101:050;17[' ]| the rational order which$6#1$ pervades it. 101:050;18[' ]| We have climbled our bean-stalk and have 101:050;19[' ]| reached a wonderland in$4$ which$6#1$ the common and 101:050;20[' ]| the familiar become things new and strange. In$4$ 101:050;21[' ]| the exploration of the cosmic process thus 101:050;22[' ]| typified, the highest intelligence of man finds 101:050;23[' ]| inexhaustible employment; giants are subdued to$4$ 101:050;24[' ]| our service; and the spiritual affections of the 101:050;25[' ]| contemplative philosopher are engaged by$4$ beauties 101:050;26[' ]| worthy of eternal constancy. 101:050;27[' ]| But there is another aspect of the cosmic process, 101:050;28[' ]| so$5#1$ perfect as a mechanism, so$5#1$ beautiful as a work 101:050;29[' ]| of art. Where the cosmopoietic energy works 101:051;01[' ]| through sentient beings, there arises, among its 101:051;02[' ]| other manifestations, that$6#2$ which$6#1$ we call pain or 101:051;03[' ]| suffering. This baleful product of evolution increases 101:051;04[' ]| in$4$ quantity and in$4$ intensity, with advancing 101:051;05[' ]| grades of animal organization, until it attains its 101:051;06[' ]| highest level in$4$ man. Further, the consummation 101:051;07[' ]| is not reached in$4$ man, the mere animal; nor 101:051;08[' ]| in$4$ man, the whole of half savage; but only in$4$ 101:051;09[' ]| man, the member of an organized polity. And 101:051;10[' ]| it is a necessary consequence of his attempt to$9$ live 101:051;11[' ]| in$4$ this way; that$6#2$ is, under those conditions which$6#1$ 101:051;12[' ]| are essential to$4$ the full development of his noblest 101:051;13[' ]| powers. 101:051;14[' ]| Man, the animal, in$4$ fact, has worked his way 101:051;15[' ]| to$4$ the headship of the sentient world, and has 101:051;16[' ]| become the superb animal which$6#1$ he is, in$4$ virtue 101:051;17[' ]| of his success in$4$ the struggle for$4$ existence. The 101:051;18[' ]| conditions having been of a certain order, man's 101:051;19[' ]| organization has adjusted itself to$4$ them better 101:051;20[' ]| than that$6#2$ of his competitors in$4$ the cosmic strife. 101:051;21[' ]| In$4$ the case of mankind, the self-assertion, the 101:051;22[' ]| unscrupulous seizing upon$4$ all that$6#1$ can be grasped, 101:051;23[' ]| the tenacious holding of all that$6#1$ can be kept, 101:051;24[' ]| which$6#1$ constitute the essence of the struggle for$4$ 101:051;25[' ]| existence, have answered. For$4$ his successful progress, 101:051;26[' ]| throughout the savage state, man has been 101:051;27[' ]| largely indebted to$4$ those qualities which$6#1$ he shares 101:051;28[' ]| with the ape and the tiger; his exceptional 101:051;29[' ]| physical organization; his cunning, his sociability, 101:051;30[' ]| his curiosity, and his imitativeness; his ruthless 101:052;01[' ]| and ferocious destructiveness when his anger is 101:052;02[' ]| roused by$4$ opposition. 101:052;03[' ]| But, in$4$ proportion as men have passed from 101:052;04[' ]| anarchy to$4$ social organization, and in$4$ proportion 101:052;05[' ]| as civilization has grown in$4$ worth, these deeply 101:052;06[' ]| ingrained serviceable qualities have become defects. 101:052;07[' ]| After the manner of successful persons, 101:052;08[' ]| civilized man would gladly kick down the ladder 101:052;09[' ]| by$4$ which$6#1$ he has climbed. He would be only too 101:052;10[' ]| pleased to$9$ see ""the ape and tiger die."" But they 101:052;11[' ]| decline to$9$ suit his convenience; and the unwelcome 101:052;12[' ]| intrusion of these boon companions of his 101:052;13[' ]| hot youth into the ranged existence of civil life 101:052;14[' ]| adds pains and griefs, innumerable and immeasurably 101:052;15[' ]| great, to$4$ those which$6#1$ the cosmic process 101:052;16[' ]| necessarily brings on$4$ the mere animal. In$4$ fact, 101:052;17[' ]| civilized man brands all these ape and tiger 101:052;18[' ]| promptings with the name of sins; he punishes 101:052;19[' ]| many of the acts which$6#1$ flow from them as crimes; 101:052;20[' ]| and, in$4$ extreme cases, he does his best to$9$ put an 101:052;21[' ]| end to$4$ the survival of the fittest of former days 101:052;22[' ]| by$4$ axe and rope. 101:052;23[' ]| I have said that$3$ civilized man has reached this 101:052;24[' ]| point; the assertion is perhaps too broad and 101:052;25[' ]| general; I had better put it that$3$ ethical man has 101:052;26[' ]| attained thereto. The science of ethics professes 101:052;27[' ]| to$9$ furnish us with a reasoned rule of life; to$9$ tell 101:052;28[' ]| us what is right action and why it is so$5#2$. Whatever 101:052;29[' ]| differences of opinion may exist among experts, 101:052;30[' ]| there is a general consensus that$3$ the ape and tiger 101:053;01[' ]| methods of the struggle for$4$ existence are not 101:053;02[' ]| reconcilable with sound ethical principles. 101:053;03[' ]| The hero of our story descended the bean-stalk 101:053;04[' ]| and came back to$4$ the common world, where fare 101:053;05[' ]| and work were alike hark; where ugly competitors 101:053;06[' ]| were much commoner than beautiful princesses; 101:053;07[' ]| and where the everlasting battle with self was 101:053;08[' ]| much less sure to$9$ be crowned with victory than a 101:053;09[' ]| turn-to with a giant. We have done the like$0$. 101:053;10[' ]| Thousands upon$4$ thousands of our fellows, thousands 101:053;11[' ]| of years ago, have preceded us in$4$ finding 101:053;12[' ]| themselves face to$4$ face with the same dread problem 101:053;13[' ]| of evil. They also have seen that$3$ the cosmic 101:053;14[' ]| process is evolution; that$3$ it is full of wonder, full 101:053;15[' ]| of beauty, and, at the same time, full of pain. 101:053;16[' ]| They have sought to$9$ discover the bearing of these 101:053;17[' ]| great facts on$4$ ethics; to$9$ find out whether there 101:053;18[' ]| is, or is not, a sanction for$4$ morality in$4$ the ways of 101:053;19[' ]| the cosmos. 101:053;20[' ]| Theories of the universe, in$4$ which$6#1$ the conception 101:053;21[' ]| of evolution plays a leading part, were extant at 101:053;22[' ]| least six centuries before our era. Certain knowledge 101:053;23[' ]| of them, in$4$ the fifth century, reaches us 101:053;24[' ]| from localities as distant as the valley of the 101:053;25[' ]| Ganges and the Asiatic coasts of the A*Egean. To$4$ 101:053;26[' ]| the early philosophers of Hindostan, no$2$ less than 101:053;27[' ]| to$4$ those of Ionia, the salient and characteristic 101:053;28[' ]| feature of the phenomenal world was its changefulness; 101:054;01[' ]| the unresting flow of all things, through 101:054;02[' ]| birth to$4$ visible being and thence to$4$ not being, in$4$ 101:054;03[' ]| which$6#1$ they could discern no$2$ sign of a beginning 101:054;04[' ]| and for$4$ which$6#1$ they saw no$2$ prospect of an ending. 101:054;05[' ]| It was no$2$ less plain to$4$ some of these antique fore-runners 101:054;06[' ]| of modern philosophy that$3$ suffering is the 101:054;07[' ]| badge of all the tribe of sentient things; that$3$ it 101:054;08[' ]| is no$2$ accidental accompaniment, but an essential 101:054;09[' ]| constituent of the cosmic process. The energetic 101:054;10[' ]| Greek might find fierce joys in$4$ a world in$4$ which$6#1$ 101:054;11[' ]| ""strife is father and king""; but the old Aryan 101:054;12[' ]| spirit was subdued to$4$ quietism in$4$ the Indian sage; 101:054;13[' ]| the mist of suffering which$6#1$ spread over humanity 101:054;14[' ]| hid everything else from his view; to$4$ him life 101:054;15[' ]| was one with suffering and suffering with life. 101:054;16[' ]| In$4$ Hindostan, as in$4$ Ionia, a period of relatively 101:054;17[' ]| high and tolerably stable civilization had succeeded 101:054;18[' ]| long ages of semi-barbarism and struggle. Out of 101:054;19[' ]| wealth and security had come leisure and refinement, 101:054;20[' ]| and, close at their heels, had followed the 101:054;21[' ]| malady of thought. To$4$ the struggle for$4$ bare 101:054;22[' ]| existence, which$6#1$ never ends, though it may be 101:054;23[' ]| alleviated and partially disguised for$4$ a fortunate 101:054;24[' ]| few, succeeded the struggle to$9$ make existence 101:054;25[' ]| intelligible and to$9$ bring the order of things into 101:054;26[' ]| harmony with the moral sense of man, which$6#1$ also 101:054;27[' ]| never ends, but, for$4$ the thinking few, becomes 101:054;28[' ]| keener with every increase of knowledge and with 101:054;29[' ]| every step towards the realization of a worthy 101:054;30[' ]| ideal of life. 101:182;00@@@@@| 101:182;01[' ]| 101:182;02[' ]| <1709 ~~ 1794> 101:182;03[' ]| 101:182;04[' ]| 101:182;05[' ]| SIR, 101:182;06[' ]| You have formerly observed that$3$ curiosity often terminates 101:182;07[' ]| in$4$ barren knowledge, and that$3$ the mind 101:182;08[' ]| is prompted to$9$ study and inquiry rather by$4$ the 101:182;09[' ]| uneasiness of ignorance than the hope of profit. 101:182;10[' ]| Nothing can be of less importance to$4$ any present 101:182;11[' ]| interest, than the fortune of those who$6#1$ have been long 101:182;12[' ]| lost in$4$ the grave, and from whom nothing now can be 101:182;13[' ]| hoped or feared. Yet, to$9$ rouse the zeal of a true 101:182;14[' ]| antiquary, little more is necessary than to$9$ mention a 101:182;15[' ]| name which$6#1$ mankind have conspired to$9$ forget; he 101:182;16[' ]| will$1$ make his way to$4$ remote scenes of action through 101:183;01[' ]| obscurity and contradiction, as Tully sought amidst 101:183;02[' ]| bushes and brambles the tomb of Archimedes. 101:183;03[' ]| It is not easy to$9$ discover how it concerns him that$6#1$ 101:183;04[' ]| gathers the produce, or receives the rent of an estate, 101:183;05[' ]| to$9$ know through what familes the land has passed, 101:183;06[' ]| who$6#1$ is registered in$4$ the Conqueror's survey as its 101:183;07[' ]| possessor, how often it has been forfeited by$4$ treason, 101:183;08[' ]| or how often sold by$4$ prodigality. The power or wealth 101:183;09[' ]| of the present inhabitants of a country cannot be much 101:183;10[' ]| increased by$4$ an inquiry after the names of those barbarians, 101:183;11[' ]| who$6#1$ destroyed one another, twenty centuries 101:183;12[' ]| ago, in$4$ contests for$4$ the shelter of woods or convenience 101:183;13[' ]| of pasturage. Yet we see that$3$ no$2$ man can be at rest 101:183;14[' ]| in$4$ the enjoyment of a new purchase, till he has learned 101:183;15[' ]| the history of his grounds from the ancient inhabitants 101:183;16[' ]| of the parish, and that$3$ no$2$ nation omits to$9$ record the 101:183;17[' ]| actions of their ancestors, however bloody, savage, and 101:183;18[' ]| rapacious. 101:183;19[' ]| The same disposition, as different opportunities call 101:183;20[' ]| it forth, discovers itself in$4$ great or little things. I 101:183;21[' ]| have always thought it unworthy of a wise man to$9$ 101:183;22[' ]| slumber in$4$ total inactivity, only because he happens to$9$ 101:183;23[' ]| have no$2$ employment equal to$4$ his ambition or genius: 101:183;24[' ]| it is therefore my custom to$9$ apply my attention to$4$ the 101:183;25[' ]| objects before me; and as I cannot think any place 101:183;26[' ]| wholly unworthy of notice that$6#1$ affords a habitation 101:183;27[' ]| to$4$ a man of letters, I have collected the history and 101:183;28[' ]| antiquities of the several garrets in$4$ which$6#1$ I have resided. 101:183;29[Z ]| \"7Quantulacunque 7estis, 7vos 7ego 7magna 7voco."\ 101:183;30[Z ]| "How small to$4$ others, but how great to$4$ me!" 101:183;31[' ]| Many of these narratives my industry has been able 101:183;32[' ]| to$9$ extend to$4$ a considerable length; but the woman 101:183;33[' ]| with whom I now lodge has lived only eighteen months 101:183;34[' ]| in$4$ the house, and can give no$2$ account of its ancient 101:183;35[' ]| revolutions; the plaisterer having, at her entrance, 101:183;36[' ]| obliterated, by$4$ his white-wash, all the smoky memorials 101:183;37[' ]| which$6#1$ former tenants had left upon$4$ the ceiling, and 101:183;38[' ]| perhaps drawn the veil of oblivion over politicians, 101:183;39[' ]| philosophers, and poets. 101:184;01[' ]| When I first cheapened my lodgings, the landlady 101:184;02[' ]| told me, that$3$ she hoped I was not an author, for$3$ the 101:184;03[' ]| lodgers on$4$ the first floor had stipulated that$3$ the upper 101:184;04[' ]| rooms should not be occupied by$4$ a noisy trade. I very 101:184;05[' ]| readily promised to$9$ give no$2$ disturbance to$4$ her family, 101:184;06[' ]| and soon dispatched a bargain on$4$ the usual terms. 101:184;07[' ]| I had not slept many nights in$4$ my new apartment 101:184;08[' ]| before I began to$9$ inquire after my predecessors, and 101:184;09[' ]| found my landlady, whose imagination is filled chiefly 101:184;10[' ]| with her own affairs, very ready to$9$ give me information. 101:184;11[' ]| Curiosity, like$4$ all other desires, produces pain as 101:184;12[' ]| well as pleasure. Before she began her narrative, I 101:184;13[' ]| had heated my head with expectations of adventures 101:184;14[' ]| and discoveries, of elegance in$4$ disguise, and learning 101:184;15[' ]| in$4$ distress; and was somewhat mortified when I heard 101:184;16[' ]| that$3$ the first tenant was a tailor, of whom nothing was 101:184;17[' ]| remembered but that$3$ he complained of his room for$4$ 101:184;18[' ]| want of light; and, after having lodged in$4$ it a month, 101:184;19[' ]| and paid only a week's rent, pawned a piece of cloth 101:184;20[' ]| which$6#1$ he was trusted to$9$ cut out, and was forced to$9$ 101:184;21[' ]| make a precipitate retreat from this quarter of the town. 101:184;22[' ]| The next was a young woman newly arrived from the 101:184;23[' ]| country, who$6#1$ lived for$4$ five weeks with great regularity, 101:184;24[' ]| and became by$4$ frequent treats very much the favourite 101:184;25[' ]| of the family, but at last received visits so$5#1$ frequently 101:184;26[' ]| from a cousin in$4$ Cheapside, that$3$ she brought the 101:184;27[' ]| reputation of the house into danger, and was therefore 101:184;28[' ]| dismissed with good advice. 101:184;29[' ]| The room then stood empty for$4$ a fortnight: my 101:184;30[' ]| landlady began to$9$ think she had judged hardly, and 101:184;31[' ]| often wished for$4$ such another lodger. At last, an 101:184;32[' ]| elderly man of a grave aspect read the bill, and bargained 101:184;33[' ]| for$4$ the room at the very first price that$6#1$ was 101:184;34[' ]| asked. He lived in$4$ close retirement, seldom went out 101:184;35[' ]| till evening, and then returned early, sometimes cheerful, 101:184;36[' ]| and at other times dejected. It was remarkable 101:184;37[' ]| that$3$, whatever he purchased, he never had small money 101:184;38[' ]| in$4$ his pocket; and, though cool and temperate on$4$ other 101:184;38[' ]| occasions, was always vehement and stormy till he 101:184;39[' ]| received his change. He paid his rent with great 101:185;01[' ]| exactness, and seldom failed once a week to$9$ requite 101:185;02[' ]| my landlady's civility with a supper. At last, such is 101:185;03[' ]| the fate of human felicity, the house was alarmed at 101:185;04[' ]| midnight by$4$ the constable, who$6#1$ demanded to$9$ search 101:185;05[' ]| the garrets. My landlady assuring him that$3$ he had 101:185;06[' ]| mistaken the door, conducted him up*stairs, where he 101:185;07[' ]| found the tools of a coiner; but the tenant had crawled 101:185;08[' ]| along the roof to$4$ an empty house, and escaped; much 101:185;09[' ]| to$4$ the joy of my landlady, who$6#1$ declares him a very 101:185;10[' ]| honest man, and wonders why any*body should be 101:185;11[' ]| hanged for$4$ making money when such numbers are in$4$ 101:185;12[' ]| want of it. She however confesses that$3$ she shall, for$4$ 101:185;13[' ]| the future, always question the character of those who$6#1$ 101:185;14[' ]| take her garret without beating down the price. 101:185;15[' ]| The bill was then placed again in$4$ the window, and 101:185;16[' ]| the poor woman was teased for$4$ seven weeks by$4$ innumerable 101:185;17[' ]| passengers, who$6#1$ obliged her to$9$ climb with 101:185;18[' ]| them every hour up$5$ five stories, and then disliked the 101:185;19[' ]| prospect, hated the noise of a public street, thought 101:185;20[' ]| the stairs narrow, objected to$4$ a low ceiling, required 101:185;21[' ]| the walls to$9$ be hung with fresher paper, asked questions 101:185;22[' ]| about the neighbourhood, could not think of 101:185;23[' ]| living so$5#1$ far from their acquaintance, wished the 101:185;24[' ]| windows had looked to$4$ the south rather than the west, 101:185;25[' ]| told how the door and chimney might have been better 101:185;26[' ]| disposed, bid her half the price that$6#1$ she asked, or 101:185;27[' ]| promised to$9$ give her earnest the next day, and came 101:185;28[' ]| no$2$ more. 101:185;29[' ]| At last, a short meagre man, in$4$ a tarnished waist-coat, 101:185;30[' ]| desired to$9$ see the garret, and, when he had stipulated 101:185;31[' ]| for$4$ two long shelves, and a large table, hired it 101:185;32[' ]| at a low rate. When the affair was completed, he 101:185;33[' ]| looked round him with great satisfaction, and repeated 101:185;34[' ]| some words which$6#1$ the woman did not understand. In$4$ 101:185;35[' ]| two days he brought a great box of books, took possession 101:185;36[' ]| of his room, and lived very inoffensively, except 101:185;37[' ]| that$3$ he frequently disturbed the inhabitants of the next 101:185;38[' ]| floor by$4$ unseasonable noises. He was generally in$4$ bed 101:185;39[' ]| at noon; but from evening to$4$ midnight he sometimes 101:185;40[' ]| talked aloud with great vehemence, sometimes stamped 101:186;01[' ]| as in$4$ rage, sometimes threw down his poker, then 101:186;02[' ]| clattered his chairs, then sat down in$4$ deep thought, 101:186;03[' ]| and again burst out into loud vociferation; sometimes 101:186;04[' ]| he would sigh as oppressed with misery, and sometimes 101:186;05[' ]| shake with convulsive laughter. When he encountered 101:186;06[' ]| any of the family, he gave way or bowed, but rarely 101:186;07[' ]| spoke, except that$3$ as he went up*stairs he often 101:186;08[' ]| repeated, 101:186;09[Z ]| ~~ \"5?? 5?? 5?? 5??."\ 101:186;10[Z ]| "This habitant th' ae^rial regions boast:" 101:186;11[' ]| hard words, to$4$ which$6#1$ his neighbours listened so$5#1$ often 101:186;12[' ]| that$3$ they learned them without understanding them. 101:186;13[' ]| What was his employment she did not venture to$9$ ask 101:186;14[' ]| him, but at last heard a printer's boy inquire for$4$ the 101:186;15[' ]| author. 101:186;16[' ]| My landlady was very often advised to$9$ beware of this 101:186;17[' ]| strange man, who$6#1$, though he was quiet for$4$ the present, 101:186;18[' ]| might perhaps become outrageous in$4$ the hot months; 101:186;19[' ]| but, as she was punctually paid, she could not find any 101:186;20[' ]| sufficient reason for$4$ dismissing him, till one night he 101:186;21[' ]| convinced her, by$4$ setting fire to$4$ his curtains, that$3$ it 101:186;22[' ]| was not safe to$9$ have an author for$4$ an inmate. 101:186;23[' ]| She had then for$4$ six weeks a succession of tenants, 101:186;24[' ]| who$6#1$ left the house on$4$ Saturday, and, instead of paying 101:186;25[' ]| their rent, stormed at their landlady. At last she took 101:186;26[' ]| in$5$ two sisters, one of whom had spent her little fortune 101:186;27[' ]| in$4$ procuring remedies for$4$ a lingering disease, and was 101:186;28[' ]| now supported and attended by$4$ the other: she climbed 101:186;29[' ]| with difficulty to$4$ the apartment, where she languished 101:186;30[' ]| eight weeks without impatience, or lamentation, except 101:186;31[' ]| for$4$ the expense and fatigue which$6#1$ her sister suffered, 101:186;32[' ]| and then calmly and contentedly expired. The sister 101:186;33[' ]| followed her to$4$ the grave, paid the few debts which$6#1$ 101:186;34[' ]| they had contracted, wiped away the tears of useless 101:186;35[' ]| sorrow, and, returning to$4$ the business of common life, 101:186;36[' ]| resigned to$4$ me the vacant habitation. 101:186;37[' ]| Such, Mr%*Rambler, are the changes which$6#1$ have 101:186;38[' ]| happened in$4$ the narrow space where my present 101:186;39[' ]| fortune has fixed my residence. So$5#1$ true it is that$3$ 101:187;01[' ]| amusement and instruction are always at hand for$4$ 101:187;02[' ]| those who$6#1$ have skill and willingness to$9$ find them; and 101:187;03[' ]| so$5#1$ just is the observation of Juvenal, that$3$ a single 101:187;04[' ]| house will$1$ show whatever is done or suffered in$4$ the 101:187;05[' ]| world. 101:187;06[' ]| I am, sir, &c. 101:187;07[' ]| <~~ \Rambler.\> 102:187;08[' ]| 102:187;09[' ]| When Diogenes received a visit in$4$ his tub from 102:187;10[' ]| Alexander*the*Great, and was asked, according to$4$ the 102:187;11[' ]| ancient forms of royal courtesy, what petition he had 102:187;12[' ]| to$9$ offer; ""I have nothing,"" said he, ""to$9$ ask, but that$3$ 102:187;13[' ]| you would remove to$4$ the other side, that$3$ you may not 102:187;14[' ]| by$4$ intercepting the sunshine, take from me what you 102:187;15[' ]| cannot give me."" 102:187;16[' ]| Such was the demand of Diogenes from the greatest 102:187;17[' ]| monarch of the earth; which$6#1$ those who$6#1$ have less 102:187;18[' ]| power than Alexander may, with yet more propriety, 102:187;19[' ]| apply to$4$ themselves. He that$6#1$ does much good, may 102:187;20[' ]| be allowed to$9$ do sometimes a little harm. But if the 102:187;21[' ]| opportunities of beneficence be denied by$4$ fortune, innocence 102:187;22[' ]| should at least be vigilantly preserved. 102:187;23[' ]| It is well known, that$3$ time once past never returns; 102:187;24[' ]| and that$3$ the moment which$6#1$ is lost is lost for*ever. 102:187;25[' ]| Time therefore ought, above all other kinds of property, 102:187;26[' ]| to$9$ be free from invasion; and yet there is no$2$ man who$6#1$ 102:187;27[' ]| does not claim the power of wasting that$6#2$ time which$6#1$ is 102:187;28[' ]| the right of others. 102:187;29[' ]| This usurpation is so$5#1$ general, that$3$ a very small part 102:187;30[' ]| of the year is spent by$4$ choice; scarcely any*thing is 102:187;31[' ]| done when it is intended, or obtained when it is desired. 102:187;32[' ]| Life is continually ravaged by$4$ invaders; one steals 102:187;33[' ]| away an hour, and another a day; one conceals the 102:187;34[' ]| robbery by$4$ hurrying us into business, another by$4$ lulling 102:187;35[' ]| us with amusement; the depredation is continued 102:187;36[' ]| through a thousand vicissitudes of tumult and tranquility, 102:187;37[' ]| till, having lost all, we can lose no$2$ more. 102:188;01[' ]| This waste of the lives of men has been very frequently 102:188;02[' ]| charged upon$4$ the Great, whose followers linger 102:188;03[' ]| from year to$4$ year in$4$ expectations, and die at last with 102:188;04[' ]| petitions in$4$ their hands. Those who$6#1$ raise envy will$1$ 102:188;05[' ]| easily incur censure. I know not whether statesmen 102:188;06[' ]| and patrons do not suffer more reproaches than they 102:188;07[' ]| deserve, and may not rather themselves complain, that$3$ 102:188;08[' ]| they are given up$5$ a prey to$4$ pretensions without merit, 102:188;09[' ]| and to$4$ importunity without shame. 102:188;10[' ]| The truth is, that$3$ the inconvenience of attendance 102:188;11[' ]| are more lamented than felt. To$4$ the greater number 102:188;12[' ]| solicitation is its own reward. To$9$ be seen in$4$ good 102:188;13[' ]| company, to$9$ talk of familiarities with men of power, 102:188;14[' ]| to$9$ be able to$9$ tell the freshest news, to$9$ gratify an 102:188;15[' ]| inferior circle with predictions of increase or decline 102:188;16[' ]| of favour, and to$9$ be regarded as a candidate for$4$ high 102:188;17[' ]| offices, are compensations more than equivalent to$4$ the 102:188;18[' ]| delay of favours, which$6#1$ perhaps he that$6#1$ begs them has 102:188;19[' ]| hardly confidence to$9$ expect. 102:188;20[' ]| A man conspicuous in$4$ a high station, who$6#1$ multiplies 102:188;21[' ]| hope that$3$ he may multiply dependants, may be considered 102:188;22[' ]| as a beast of prey, justly dreaded, but easily 102:188;23[' ]| avoided; his den is known, and they who$6#1$ would not 102:188;24[' ]| be devoured need not approach it. The great danger 102:188;25[' ]| of the waste of time is from caterpillars and moths, 102:188;26[' ]| who$6#1$ are not resisted, because they are not feared, and 102:188;27[' ]| who$6#1$ work on$5$ with unheeded mischiefs and invisible 102:188;28[' ]| encroachments. 102:188;29[' ]| He whose rank or merit procures him the notice of 102:188;30[' ]| mankind must give up$5$ himself, in$4$ a great measure, to$4$ 102:188;31[' ]| the convenience or humour of those who$6#1$ surround him. 102:188;32[' ]| Every man who$6#1$ is sick of himself will$1$ fly to$4$ him for$4$ 102:188;33[' ]| relief; he that$6#1$ wants to$9$ speak will$1$ require him to$9$ hear; 102:188;34[' ]| and he that$6#1$ wants to$9$ hear will$1$ expect him to$9$ speak. 102:188;35[' ]| Hour passes after hour, the noon succeeds to$4$ morning, 102:188;36[' ]| and the evening to$4$ noon, while a thousand objects are 102:188;37[' ]| forced upon$4$ his attention, which$6#1$ he rejects as fast as 102:188;38[' ]| they are offered, but which$6#1$ the custom of the world 102:188;39[' ]| requires to$9$ be received with appearance of regard. 102:188;40[' ]| If we will$1$ have the kindness of others, we must 102:189;01[' ]| endure their follies. He who$6#1$ cannot persuade himself 102:189;02[' ]| to$9$ withdraw from society, must be content to$9$ pay a 102:189;03[' ]| tribute of his time to$4$ a multitude of tyrants; to$4$ the 102:189;04[' ]| loiterer, who$6#1$ makes appointments which$6#1$ he never 102:189;05[' ]| keeps; to$4$ the consulter, who$6#1$ asks advice which$6#1$ he 102:189;06[' ]| never takes; to$4$ the boaster, who$6#1$ blusters only to$9$ be 102:189;07[' ]| praised; to$4$ the complainer, who$6#1$ whines only to$9$ be 102:189;08[' ]| pitied; to$4$ the projector, whose happiness is to$9$ entertain 102:189;09[' ]| his friends with expectations which$6#1$ all but himself 102:189;10[' ]| know to$9$ be vain; to$4$ the economist, who$6#1$ tells of bargains 102:189;11[' ]| and settlements; to$4$ the politician, who$6#1$ predicts 102:189;12[' ]| the fate of battles and breach of alliances; to$4$ the 102:189;13[' ]| usurer, who$6#1$ compares the different funds; and to$4$ the 102:189;14[' ]| talker, who$6#1$ talks only because he loves to$9$ be talking. 102:189;15[' ]| To$9$ put every man in$4$ possession of his own time, and 102:189;16[' ]| rescue the day from this succession of usurpers, is 102:189;17[' ]| beyond my power, and beyond my hopes. Yet, perhaps, 102:189;18[' ]| some stop might be put to$4$ this unmerciful persecution, 102:189;19[' ]| if all would seriously reflect, that$3$ whoever pays 102:189;20[' ]| a visit that$6#1$ is not desired, or talks longer than the 102:189;21[' ]| hearer is willing to$9$ attend, is guilty of an injury which$6#1$ 102:189;22[' ]| he cannot repair, and takes away that$6#2$ which$6#1$ he cannot 102:189;23[' ]| give. ~~ 102:189;23[' ]| <\Idler.\> 101:187;00@@@@@| 101:187;14[' ]| THIS distinction, however, is only true with respect to$4$ the 101:187;15[' ]| measure itself. The consequences of it reach beyond the minister, 101:187;16[' ]| and materially affect his Majesty's honour. In$4$ their own nature they 101:187;17[' ]| are formidable enough to$9$ alarm a man of prudence, and disgraceful 101:187;18[' ]| enough to$9$ afflict a man of spirit. A subject, whose sincere attachment 101:187;19[' ]| to$4$ his Majesty's person and family is founded upon$4$ rational 101:187;20[' ]| principles, will$1$ not, in$4$ the present conjuncture, be scrupulous of 101:187;21[' ]| alarming, or even of afflicting his Sovereign. I know there is 101:187;22[' ]| another sort of loyalty, of which$6#1$ his Majesty has had plentiful 101:187;23[' ]| experience. When the loyalty of Tories, Jacobites, and Scotchmen, 101:187;24[' ]| has once taken possession of an unhappy Prince, it seldom leaves 101:187;25[' ]| him without accomplishing his destruction. When the poison of 101:187;26[' ]| their doctrines has tainted the natural benevolence of his disposition, 101:187;27[' ]| when their insidious counsels have corrupted the \stamina\ of 101:187;28[' ]| his government, what antidote can restore him to$4$ his political 101:187;29[' ]| health and honour, but the firm sincerity of his English subjects? 101:188;01[' ]| IT has not been usual in$4$ this country, at least since the days of 101:188;02[' ]| Charles*the*first, to$9$ see the sovereign personally at variance, or 101:188;03[' ]| engaged in$4$ a direct altercation with his subjects. Acts of grace and 101:188;04[' ]| indulgence are wisely appropriated to$4$ him, and should constantly 101:188;05[' ]| be performed by$4$ himself. He never should appear but in$4$ an amiable 101:188;06[' ]| light to$4$ his subjects. Even in$4$ France, as long as any ideas of a limited 101:188;07[' ]| monarchy were thought worth preserving, it was a maxim, that$3$ 101:188;08[' ]| no$2$ man should leave the royal presence discontented. They have 101:188;09[' ]| lost or renounced the moderate principles of their government, and 101:188;10[' ]| now, when their parliaments venture to$9$ remonstrate, the tyrant 101:188;11[' ]| comes forward, and answers absolutely for$4$ himself. The spirit of 101:188;12[' ]| their present constitution requires that$3$ the King should be feared, 101:188;13[' ]| and the principle, I believe, is tolerably supported by$4$ the fact. But 101:188;14[' ]| in$4$ our political system, the theory is at variance with the practice, 101:188;15[' ]| for$3$ the King should be beloved. Measures of greater severity may, 101:188;16[' ]| indeed, in$4$ some circumstances, be necessary; but the minister who$6#1$ 101:188;17[' ]| advises, should take the execution and odium of them entirely 101:188;18[' ]| upon$4$ himself. He not only betrays his master, but violates the 101:188;19[' ]| spirit of the English constitution, when he exposes the chief 101:188;20[' ]| magistrate to$4$ the personal hatred or contempt of his subjects. 101:188;21[' ]| When we speak of the firmness of government, we mean an uniform 101:188;22[' ]| system of measures, deliberately adopted, and resolutely maintained 101:188;23[' ]| by$4$ the servants of the crown, not a peevish asperity in$4$ the 101:188;24[' ]| language or behaviour of the sovereign. The government of a weak, 101:188;25[' ]| irresolute monarch may be wise, moderate, and firm; ~~ that$6#2$ of an 101:188;26[' ]| obstinate capricious prince, on$4$ the contrary, may be feeble, undetermined 101:188;27[' ]| and relaxed. The reputation of public measures depends 101:188;28[' ]| upon$4$ the minister, who$6#1$ is responsible, not upon$4$ the King, whose 101:188;29[' ]| private opinions are not supposed to$9$ have any weight against the 101:188;30[' ]| advice of his counsel, whose personal authority should therefore 101:188;31[' ]| never be interposed in$4$ public affairs. ~~ This, I believe, is true, 101:188;32[' ]| constitutional doctrine. But for$4$ a moment let us suppose it false. 101:189;01[' ]| Let it be taken for$4$ granted, that$3$ an occasion may arise, in$4$ which$6#1$ 101:189;02[' ]| a King*of*England shall be compelled to$9$ take upon$4$ himself the ungrateful 101:189;03[' ]| office of rejecting the petitions, and censuring the conduct 101:189;04[' ]| of his subjects; and let the City remonstrance be supposed to$9$ have 101:189;05[' ]| created so$5#1$ extraordinary an occasion. On$4$ this principle, which$6#1$ I 101:189;06[' ]| presume no$2$ friend of administration will$1$ dispute, let the wisdom 101:189;07[' ]| and spirit of the ministry be examined. They advise the King to$9$ 101:189;08[' ]| hazard his dignity, by$4$ a positive declaration of his own sentiments? 101:189;09[' ]| ~~ they suggest to$4$ him a language full of severity and reproach. 101:189;10[' ]| What follows? When his Majesty had taken so$5#1$ decisive a part in$4$ 101:189;11[' ]| support of his ministry and parliament, he had a right to$9$ expect 101:189;12[' ]| from them a reciprocal demonstration of firmness in$4$ their own 101:189;13[' ]| cause, and of their zeal for$4$ his honour. He had reason to$9$ expect 101:189;14[' ]| (and such, I doubt not, were the blustering promises of Lord*North) 101:189;15[' ]| that$3$ the persons, whom he had been advised to$9$ charge with having 101:189;16[' ]| failed in$4$ their respect to$4$ him, with having injured parliament, and 101:189;16[' ]| violated the principles of the constitution, should not have been 101:189;17[' ]| permitted to$9$ escape without some severe marks of the displeasure 101:189;18[' ]| and vengeance of parliament. As the matter stands, the minister, 101:189;19[' ]| after placing his sovereign in$4$ the most favourable light to$4$ his 101:189;20[' ]| subjects, and after attempting to$9$ fix the ridicule and odium of his 101:189;21[' ]| own precipitate measures upon$4$ the royal character, leaves him a 101:189;22[' ]| solitary figure upon$4$ the scene, to$9$ recall, if he can, or to$9$ compensate, 101:189;23[' ]| by$4$ future compliances, for$4$ one unhappy demonstration of ill-supported 101:189;24[' ]| firmness, and ineffectual resentment. As a man of spirit, 101:189;25[' ]| his Majesty cannot but be sensible, that$3$ the lofty terms in$4$ which$6#1$ he 101:189;26[' ]| was persuaded to$9$ reprimand the city, when united with the silly 101:189;27[' ]| conclusion of the business, resemble the pomp of a mock-tragedy, 101:189;28[' ]| where the most pathetic sentiments, and even the sufferings of the 101:189;29[' ]| hero are calculated for$4$ derision. 101:189;30[' ]| SUCH has been the boasted firmness and consistency of a minister, 101:189;31[' ]| whose appearance in$4$ the house*of*commons was thought 101:189;32[' ]| essential to$4$ the King's service; ~~ whose presence was to$9$ influence 101:190;01[' ]| every division; ~~ who$6#1$ had a voice to$9$ persuade, an eye to$9$ penetrate, 101:190;02[' ]| a gesture to$9$ command. The reputation of these great qualities has 101:190;03[' ]| been fatal to$4$ his friends. The little dignity of Mr%*Ellis has been 101:190;04[' ]| committed. The mine was sunk; ~~ combustibles provided, and 101:190;05[' ]| Welbore*Ellis, the Guy*Faux of the fable, waited only for$4$ the signal 101:190;06[' ]| of command. All of a sudden the country gentlemen discover how 101:190;07[' ]| grossly they have been deceived; ~~ the minister's heart fails him, 101:190;08[' ]| the grand plot is defeated in$4$ a moment, and poor Mr%*Ellis and his 101:190;09[' ]| motion taken into custody. From the event of Friday last, one 101:190;10[' ]| would imagine, that$3$ some fatality hung over this gentleman. 101:190;11[' ]| Whether he makes or suppresses a motion, he is equally sure of his 101:190;12[' ]| disgrace. But the complexion of the times will$1$ suffer no$2$ man to$9$ be 101:190;13[' ]| vice-treasurer of Ireland with impunity. 101:190;14[' ]| I DO not mean to$9$ express the smallest anxiety for$4$ the minister's 101:190;15[' ]| reputation. He acts separately for$4$ himself, and the most shameful 101:190;16[' ]| inconsistency may perhaps be no$2$ disgrace to$4$ him. But when the 101:190;17[' ]| Sovereign, who$6#1$ represents the majesty of the state, appears in$4$ 101:191;01[' ]| person, his dignity should be supported. The occasion should be 101:191;02[' ]| important; ~~ the plan well considered; ~~ the execution steady and 101:191;03[' ]| consistent. My zeal for$4$ his Majesty's real honour compels me to$9$ 101:191;04[' ]| assert, that$3$ it has been too much the system of the present reign, 101:191;05[' ]| to$9$ introduce him personally, either to$9$ act for$4$, or to$9$ defend his 101:191;06[' ]| servants. They persuade him to$9$ do what is properly \their\ business, 101:191;07[' ]| and desert him in$4$ the midst of it. Yet this is an inconvenience, to$4$ 101:191;08[' ]| which$6#1$ he must for*ever be exposed, while he adheres to$4$ a ministry 101:191;09[' ]| divided among themselves, or unequal in$4$ credit and ability to$4$ the 101:191;10[' ]| great task they have undertaken. Instead of reserving the interposition 101:191;11[' ]| of the royal personage, as the last resource of government, 101:191;12[' ]| their weakness obliges them to$9$ apply it to$4$ every ordinary occasion, 101:191;13[' ]| and to$9$ render it cheap and common in$4$ the opinion of the people. 101:191;14[' ]| Instead of supporting their master, they look to$4$ \him\ for$4$ support; 101:191;15[' ]| and, for$4$ the emoluments of remaining one day more in$4$ office, care 101:191;16[' ]| not how much his sacred character is prostituted and dishonoured. 101:191;17[' ]| IF I thought it possible for$4$ this paper to$9$ reach the closet, I 101:191;18[' ]| would venture to$9$ appeal at once to$4$ his Majesty's judgement. I 101:191;19[' ]| would ask him, but in$4$ the most respectful terms, "As you are a 101:191;20[' ]| young man, Sir, who$6#1$ ought to$9$ have a life of happiness in$4$ prospect; ~~ 101:191;21[' ]| as you are a husband; ~~ as you are a father, (your filial duties I own 101:191;22[' ]| have been religiously performed) is it \7bona 7fide\ for$4$ your interest or 101:191;23[' ]| your honor to$9$ sacrifice your domestic tranquillity, and to$9$ live in$4$ a 101:191;24[' ]| perpetual disagreement with your people, merely to$9$ preserve such 101:191;25[' ]| a chain of beings as North, Barrington, Weymouth, Gower, Ellis, 101:191;26[' ]| Onslow, Rigby, Jerry*Dyson, and Sandwich? Their very names are 101:191;27[' ]| a satire upon$4$ all government, and I defy the gravest of your chaplains 101:191;28[' ]| to$9$ read the catalogue without laughing." 101:191;29[' ]| FOR$4$ my own part, Sir, I have always considered addresses from 101:191;30[' ]| parliament as a fashionable, unmeaning formality. Usurpers, ideots, 101:191;31[' ]| and tyrants have been successively complimented with almost the 101:191;32[' ]| same professions of duty and affection. But let us suppose them to$9$ 101:192;01[' ]| mean exactly what they profess. The consequences deserve to$9$ be 101:192;02[' ]| considered. Either the sovereign is a man of high spirit and dangerous 101:192;03[' ]| ambition, ready to$9$ take advantage of the treachery of his 101:192;04[' ]| parliament, ready to$9$ accept of the surrender they make him of the 101:192;05[' ]| public liberty; ~~ or he is a mild, undesigning prince, who$6#1$, provided 101:192;06[' ]| they indulge him with a little state and pageantry, would of himself 101:192;07[' ]| intend no$2$ mischief. On$4$ the first suppostion, it must soon be 101:192;08[' ]| decided by$4$ the sword, whether the constitution should be lost or 101:192;09[' ]| preserved. On$4$ the second, a prince no$2$ way qualified for$4$ the execution 101:192;10[' ]| of a great and hazardous enterprize, and without any determined 101:192;11[' ]| object in$4$ view, may nevertheless be driven into such desperate 101:192;12[' ]| measures, as may lead directly to$4$ his ruin, or disgrace himself by$4$ 101:192;13[' ]| a shameful fluctuation between the extremes of violence at one 101:192;14[' ]| moment, and timidity at another. The minister perhaps may have 101:192;15[' ]| reason to$9$ be satisfied with the success of the present hour, and with 101:192;16[' ]| the profits of his employment. He is the tenant of the day, and has 101:192;17[' ]| other obligations, and ought to$9$ look forward to$4$ a superior, a 101:192;18[' ]| permanent interest. His paternal tenderness should remind him, 101:192;19[' ]| how many hostages he has given to$4$ society. The ties of nature 101:192;20[' ]| come powerfully in$4$ aid of oaths and protestations. The father, who$6#1$ 101:192;21[' ]| considers his own precarious state of health, and the possible 101:192;22[' ]| hazard of a long minority, will$1$ wish to$9$ see the family estate free and 101:192;23[' ]| unincumbered. What is the dignity of the crown, though it were 101:192;24[' ]| really maintained; ~~ what is the honour of parliament, supposing it 101:192;25[' ]| could exist without any foundation of integrity and justice; ~~ or 101:192;26[' ]| what is the vain reputation of firmness, even if the scheme of the 101:192;27[' ]| government were uniform and consistent, compared with the heart-felt 101:192;28[' ]| affections of the people, with the happiness and security of the 101:192;29[' ]| royal family, or even with the grateful acclamations of the populace! 101:192;30[' ]| Whatever style of contempt may be adopted by$4$ ministers or 101:193;01[' ]| parliaments, no$2$ man sincerely despises the voice of the English 101:193;02[' ]| nation. The house*of*commons are only interpreters, whose duty 101:193;03[' ]| it is to$9$ convey the sense of the people faithfully to$4$ the crown. If the 101:193;04[' ]| interpretation be false or imperfect, the constituent powers are 101:193;05[' ]| called upon$5$ to$9$ deliver their own sentiments. Their speech is rude, 101:193;06[' ]| but intelligible; ~~ their gestures fierce, but full of explanation. 101:193;07[' ]| Perplexed by$4$ sophistries, their honest eloquence rises into action. 101:193;08[' ]| Their first appeal was to$4$ the integrity of their representatives: ~~ 101:193;09[' ]| the second to$4$ the King's justice; ~~ the last argument of the people, 101:193;10[' ]| whenever they have recourse to$4$ it, will$1$ carry more perhaps than 101:193;11[' ]| persuasion to$4$ parliament, or supplication to$4$ the throne. 101:193;12[' ]| 401:274;00@@@@@| 401:274;00[' ]| 401:274;00[' ]| <1775-1834> 401:274;00[' ]| 401:274;01[' ]| EVERY man hath two birthdays: two days at least, in$4$ 401:274;02[' ]| every year, which$6#1$ set him upon$4$ revolving the lapse of 401:274;03[' ]| time, as it affects his mortal duration. The one is that$6#2$ 401:274;04[' ]| which$6#1$ in$4$ an especial manner he termeth \his\. In$4$ the 401:274;05[' ]| gradual desuetude of old observances, this custom of 401:274;06[' ]| solemnising our proper birthday hath nearly passed 401:274;07[' ]| away, or is left to$4$ children, who$6#1$ reflect nothing at all 401:274;08[' ]| about the matter, nor understand anything in$4$ it beyond 401:274;09[' ]| cake and orange. But the birth of a New*Year is of 401:274;10[' ]| an interest too wide to$9$ be pretermitted by$4$ king or 401:274;11[' ]| cobbler. No*one ever regarded the First of January 401:274;12[' ]| with indifference. It is that$6#2$ from which$6#1$ all date their 401:274;13[' ]| time, and count upon$4$ what is left. It is the nativity of 401:274;14[' ]| our common Adam. 401:274;15[' ]| Of all sounds of all bells ~~ (bells, the music nighest 401:274;16[' ]| bordering upon$4$ heaven) ~~ most solemn and touching is 401:274;17[' ]| the peal which$6#1$ rings out the Old*Year. 401:274;17[P ]| I never hear 401:274;18[P ]| it without a gathering-up of my mind to$4$ a concentration 401:274;19[P ]| of all the images that$6#1$ have been diffused over the past 401:274;20[P ]| twelvemonth; all I have done or suffered, performed 401:274;21[P ]| or neglected, in$4$ that$6#2$ regretted time. I begin to$9$ know 401:274;22[P ]| its worth, as when a person dies. It takes a personal 401:274;23[P ]| colour; nor was it a poetical flight in$4$ a contemporary, 401:274;24[P ]| when he exlaimed ~~ 401:275;01[Z ]| It is no$2$ more than what in$4$ sober sadness every one 401:275;02[Z ]| of us seems to$9$ be conscious of, in$4$ that$6#2$ awful leave-taking. 401:275;03[P ]| I am sure I felt it, and all felt it with me, 401:275;04[P ]| last night; though some of my companions affected 401:275;05[P ]| rather to$9$ manifest an exhilaration at the birth of the 401:275;06[P ]| coming year, than any very tender regrets for$4$ the 401:275;07[P ]| decease of its predecessor. But I am none of those 401:275;08[P ]| who$6#1$ ~~ 401:275;09[Z ]| Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest. 401:275;10[P ]| I am naturally, beforehand, shy of novelties; new 401:275;11[P ]| books, new faces new years, ~~ from some mental twist 401:275;12[P ]| which$6#1$ makes it difficult in$4$ me to$9$ face the prospective. 401:275;13[P ]| I have almost ceased to$9$ hope; and am sanguine only 401:275;14[P ]| in$4$ the prospects of other (former) years. I plunge into 401:275;15[P ]| foregone visions and conclusions. I encounter pell-mell 401:275;16[P ]| with past disappointments. I forgive, or overcome 401:275;17[P ]| in$4$ fancy, old adversaries. I play over again \for$4$ love\, 401:275;18[P ]| as the gamesters phrase it, games for$4$ which$6#1$ I once 401:275;19[P ]| paid so$5#1$ dear. I would scarce now have any of those 401:275;20[P ]| untoward incidents and events of my life reversed. I 401:275;21[P ]| would no$2$ more alter them than the incidents of some 401:275;22[P ]| well-contrived novel. Methinks, it is better that$3$ I 401:275;23[P ]| should have pined away seven of my goldenest years, 401:275;24[P ]| when I was thrall to$4$ the fair hair, and fairer eyes, of 401:275;25[P ]| Alice*W***n, than that$3$ so$5#1$ passionate a love adventure 401:275;26[P ]| should be lost. It was better that$3$ our family should 401:275;27[P ]| have missed that$6#2$ legacy, which$6#1$ old Dorrell cheated us 401:275;28[P ]| of, than that$3$ I should have at this moment two thousand 401:275;29[P ]| pounds \8in 8banco\, and be without the idea of that$6#2$ specious 401:275;30[P ]| old rogue. 401:275;31[P ]| In$4$ a degree beneath manhood, it is my infirmity to$9$ 401:275;32[P ]| look back upon$4$ those early days. Do I advance a 401:275;33[P ]| paradox when I say, that$3$, skipping over the intervention 401:275;34[P ]| of forty years, a man may have leave to$9$ love 401:275;35[P ]| \himself\ without the imputation of self-love? 401:275;36[P ]| If I know aught of myself, no*one whose mind is 401:275;37[P ]| introspective ~~ and mine is painfully so$5#2$ ~~ can have a 401:275;38[P ]| less respect for$4$ his present identity than I have for$4$ the 401:276;01[P ]| man Elia. I know him to$9$ be light, and vain, and 401:276;02[P ]| humoursome; a notorious ***; addicted to$4$ ***; 401:276;03[P ]| averse from counsel, neither taking it, nor offering 401:276;04[P ]| it; ~~ *** besides; a stammering buffoon; what you 401:276;05[P ]| will$1$; lay it on$5$, and spare not; I subscribe to$4$ it all, 401:276;06[P ]| and much more, than thou canst be willing to$9$ lay at 401:276;07[P ]| his door ~~ but for$4$ the child Elia ~~ that$6#2$ ""other me,"" 401:276;08[P ]| there, in$4$ the background ~~ I must take leave to$9$ cherish 401:276;09[P ]| the remembrance of that$6#2$ young master ~~ with as little 401:276;10[P ]| reference, I protest, to$4$ his stupid changeling of five-and-forty, 401:276;11[P ]| as if it had been a child of some other house, 401:276;12[P ]| and not of my parents. I can cry over its patient 401:276;13[P ]| small-pox at five, and rougher medicaments. I can 401:276;14[P ]| lay its poor fevered head upon$4$ the sick pillow at 401:276;15[P ]| Christ's, and wake with it in$4$ surprise at the gentle 401:276;16[P ]| posture of maternal tenderness hanging over it, that$6#1$ 401:276;17[P ]| unknown had watched its sleep. I know how it 401:276;18[P ]| shrank from any the least colour of falsehood. ~~ God 401:276;19[P ]| help thee, Elia, how art thou changed! ~~ Thou art 401:276;20[P ]| sophisticated. ~~ I know how honest, how courageous 401:276;21[P ]| (for$4$ a weakling) it was ~~ how religious, how imaginative, 401:276;22[P ]| how hopeful! From what have I not fallen, if 401:276;23[P ]| the child I remember was indeed myself, ~~ and not 401:276;24[P ]| some dissembling guardian, presenting a false indentity, 401:276;25[P ]| to$9$ give the rule to$4$ my unpractised steps, and regulate 401:276;26[P ]| the tone of my moral being! 401:276;27[P ]| That$3$ I am fond of indulging, beyond a hope of 401:276;28[P ]| sympathy, in$4$ such retrospection, may be the symptom 401:276;29[P ]| of some sickly idiosyncarsy. Or is it owing to$4$ another 401:276;30[P ]| cause: simply, that$3$ being without wife or family, I 401:276;31[P ]| have not learned to$9$ project myself enough out of 401:276;32[P ]| myself; and having no$2$ offspring of my own to$9$ dally 401:276;33[P ]| with, I turn back upon$4$ memory, and adopt my own 401:276;34[P ]| early idea, as my heir and favourite? If these speculations 401:276;35[P ]| seem fantastical to$4$ thee, Reader (a busy man, 401:276;36[P ]| perchance), if I tread out of the way of thy sympathy, 401:276;37[P ]| and am singularly conceited only, I retire, impenetrable 401:276;38[P ]| to$4$ ridicule, under the phantom cloud of Elia. 401:276;39[P ]| The elders, with whom I was brought up$5$, were of a 401:276;40[P ]| character not likely to$9$ let slip the sacred observance of 401:277;01[P ]| any old institution; and the ringing out of the Old 401:277;02[P ]| Year was kept by$4$ them with circumstances of peculiar 401:277;03[P ]| ceremony. ~~ In$4$ those days the sound of those midnight 401:277;04[P ]| chimes, though it seemed to$9$ raise hilarity in$4$ all around 401:277;05[P ]| me, never failed to$9$ bring a train of pensive imagery 401:277;06[P ]| into my fancy. Yet I then scarce conceived what it 401:277;07[P ]| meant, or thought of it as a reckoning that$6#1$ concerned 401:277;08[P ]| me. Not childhood alone, but the young man till 401:277;09[P ]| thirty, never feels practically that$3$ he is mortal. He 401:277;10[P ]| knows it indeed, and, if need were, he could preach a 401:277;11[P ]| homily on$4$ the fragility of life; but he brings it not 401:277;12[P ]| home to$4$ himself, any more than in$4$ a hot June we can 401:277;13[P ]| appropriate to$4$ our imagination the freezing days of 401:277;14[P ]| December. But now, shall I confess a truth? ~~ I feel 401:277;15[P ]| these audits but too powerfully. I begin to$9$ count the 401:277;16[P ]| probabilities of my duration, and to$9$ grudge at the 401:277;17[P ]| expenditure of moments and shortest periods, like$4$ 401:277;18[P ]| misers' farthings. In$4$ proportion as the years both 401:277;19[P ]| lessen and shorten, I set more count upon$4$ their periods, 401:277;20[P ]| and would fain lay my ineffectual finger upon$4$ the 401:277;21[P ]| spoke of the great wheel. I am not content to$9$ pass 401:277;22[P ]| away ""like$4$ a weaver's shuttle."" Those metaphors solace 401:277;23[P ]| me not, nor sweeten the unpalatable draught of mortality. 401:277;24[P ]| I care not to$9$ be carried with the tide, that$6#1$ 401:277;25[P ]| smoothly bears human life to$4$ eternity; and reluct at 401:277;26[P ]| the inevitable course of destiny. I am in$4$ love with 401:277;27[P ]| this green earth; the face of town and country; the 401:277;28[P ]| unspeakable rural solitudes, and the sweet security of 401:277;29[P ]| streets. I would set up$5$ my tabernacle here. I am 401:277;30[P ]| content to$9$ stand still at the age to$4$ which$6#1$ I am arrived; 401:277;31[P ]| I, and my friends: to$9$ be no$2$ younger, no$2$ richer, no$2$ 401:277;32[P ]| handsomer. I do not want to$9$ be weaned by$4$ age; or 401:277;33[P ]| drop, like$4$ mellow fruit, as they say, into the grave. ~~ 401:277;34[P ]| Any alteration, on$4$ this earth of mine, in$4$ diet or in$4$ 401:277;35[P ]| lodging, puzzles and discomposes me. My household-gods 401:277;36[P ]| plant a terrible fixed foot, and are not rooted up$5$ 401:277;37[P ]| without blood. They do not willingly seek Lavinian 401:277;38[P ]| shores. A new state of being staggers me. 401:277;39[P ]| Sun, and sky, and breeze, and solitary walks, and 401:277;40[P ]| summer holidays, and the greenness of fields, and the 401:278;01[P ]| delicious juices of meats and fishes, and society, and 401:278;02[P ]| the cheerful glass, and candle-light, and fireside conversations, 401:278;03[P ]| and innocent vanities, and jests, and \irony\ 401:278;04[P ]| \itself\ ~~ do these things go out with life? 401:278;05[P ]| Can a ghost laugh, or shake his gaunt sides, when 401:278;06[P ]| you are pleasant with him? 401:278;07[P ]| And you, my midnight darlings, my Folios; must I 401:278;08[P ]| part with the intense delight of having you (huge armfuls) 401:278;09[P ]| in$4$ my embraces? Must knowledge come to$4$ me, 401:278;10[P ]| if it come at all, by$4$ some awkward experiment of 401:278;11[P ]| intuition, and no$2$ longer by$4$ this familiar process of 401:278;12[P ]| reading? 401:278;13[P ]| Shall I enjoy friendships there, wanting the smiling 401:278;14[P ]| indications which$6#1$ point me to$4$ them here, ~~ the recognisable 401:278;15[P ]| face ~~ the ""sweet assurance of a look""? 401:278;16[P ]| In$4$ winter this intolerable disinclination to$4$ dying ~~ to$9$ 401:278;17[P ]| give it its mildest name ~~ does more especially haunt 401:278;18[P ]| and beset me. In$4$ a genial August moon, beneath a 401:278;19[P ]| sweltering sky, death is almost problematic. At those 401:278;20[P ]| times do such poor snakes as myself enjoy an immortality. 401:278;21[P ]| Then we expand and burgeon. Then we are 401:278;22[P ]| as strong again, as valiant again, as wise again, and a 401:278;23[P ]| great deal taller. The blast that$6#1$ nips and shrinks me, 401:278;24[P ]| puts me in$4$ thoughts of death. All things allied to$4$ the 401:278;25[P ]| insubstantial, wait upon$4$ that$6#2$ master feeling; cold, 401:278;26[P ]| numbness, dreams, perplexity; moonlight itself, with 401:278;27[P ]| its shadowy and spectral appearances, ~~ that$6#2$ cold ghost 401:278;28[P ]| of the sun, or Pho*ebus' sickly sister, like$4$ that$6#2$ innutritious 401:278;29[P ]| one denounced in$4$ the Canticles: ~~ I am none 401:278;30[P ]| of her minions ~~ I hold with the Persian. 401:278;31[P ]| Whatsoever thwarts, or puts me out of my way, 401:278;32[P ]| brings death unto my mind. All partial evils, like$4$ 401:278;33[P ]| humours, run into that$6#2$ capital plague-sore. ~~ I have 401:278;34[P ]| heard some profess an indifferance to$4$ life. Such hail 401:278;35[P ]| the end of their existence as a port of refuge; and 401:278;36[P ]| speak of the grave as of some soft arms, in$4$ which$6#1$ they 401:278;37[P ]| may slumber as on$4$ a pillow. Some have wooed death 401:278;38[P ]| ~~ but out upon$4$ thee, I say, thou foul, ugly phantom! 401:278;39[P ]| I detest, abhor, execrate, and (with Friar*John) give 401:278;40[P ]| thee to$4$ six score thousand devils, as in$4$ no$2$ instance to$9$ 401:279;01[P ]| be excused or tolerated, but shunned as an universal 401:279;02[P ]| viper; to$9$ be branded, proscribed, and spoken evil of! 401:279;03[P ]| In$4$ no$2$ way can I be brought to$9$ digest thee, thou thin, 401:279;04[P ]| melancholy \Privation\, or more frightful and confounding 401:279;05[P ]| \Positive\! 401:279;06[P ]| Those antidotes, prescribed against the fear of thee, 401:279;07[P ]| are altogether frigid and insulting, like$4$ thyself. For$3$ 401:279;08[P ]| what satisfaction hath a man, that$3$ he shall ""lie down 401:279;09[P ]| with kings and emperors in$4$ death,"" who$6#2$ in$4$ his lifetime 401:279;10[P ]| never greatly coveted the society of such bed-fellows? 401:279;11[P ]| ~~ or, forsooth, that$3$ ""so$5#2$ shall the fairest face appear""? 401:279;12[P ]| ~~ why, to$9$ comfort me, must Alice*W***n be a goblin? 401:279;13[P ]| More than all, I conceive disgust at those impertinent 401:279;14[P ]| and misbecoming familiarities, inscribed upon$4$ your 401:279;15[P ]| ordinary tombstones. Every dead man must take 401:279;16[P ]| upon$4$ himself to$9$ be lecturing me with his odious truism, 401:279;17[P ]| that$3$ ""Such as he now is I must shortly be."" Not so$5#1$ 401:279;18[P ]| shortly, friend, perhaps, as thou imaginest. In$4$ the 401:279;19[P ]| meantime I am alive. I move about. I am worth 401:279;20[P ]| twenty of thee. Know thy betters! Thy New*Years' 401:279;21[P ]| days are past. I survive, a jolly candidate for$4$ 1821. 401:279;22[P ]| Another cup of wine ~~ and while that$6#2$ turncoat bell, 401:279;23[P ]| that$6#1$ just now mournfully chanted the obsequies of 401:279;24[P ]| 1820 departed, with changed notes lustily rings in$4$ a 401:279;25[P ]| successor, let us attune to$4$ its peal the song made on$4$ a 401:279;26[P ]| like$2$ occasion, by$4$ hearty, cheerful Mr%*Cotton. ~~ <\Essays*of*Elia\.> 401:279;27[' ]| 402:280;00[' ]| 402:280;00[' ]| 402:280;01[' ]| HOGARTH excepted, can we produce any one painter within 402:280;02[' ]| the last fifty years, or since the humour of exhibiting began, 402:280;03[' ]| that$6#1$ has treated a story \imaginatively\? By$4$ this we mean, upon$4$ 402:280;04[' ]| whom his subject has so$5#1$ acted, that$3$ it has seemed to$9$ direct 402:280;05[' ]| \him\ ~~ not to$9$ be arranged by$4$ him? Any upon$4$ whom its leading 402:280;06[' ]| or collateral points have impressed themselves so$5#1$ tyrannically, 402:280;07[' ]| that$3$ he dared not treat it otherwise, lest he should falsify a 402:280;08[' ]| revelation? Any that$6#1$ has imparted to$4$ his compositions, not 402:280;09[' ]| merely so$5#1$ much truth as is enough to$9$ convey a story with 402:280;10[' ]| clearness, but that$6#2$ individualising property, which$6#1$ should 402:280;11[' ]| keep the subject so$5#2$ treated distinct in$4$ feature from every 402:280;12[' ]| other subject, however similar, and to$4$ common apprehensions 402:280;13[' ]| almost identical; so$3$ as that$3$ we might say, this and this part 402:280;14[' ]| could have found an appropriate place in$4$ no$2$ other picture 402:280;15[' ]| in$4$ the world but this? Is there anything in$4$ modern art ~~ we 402:280;16[' ]| will$1$ not demand that$3$ it should be equal ~~ but in$4$ any way 402:280;17[' ]| analogous to$4$ what Titian has effected, in$4$ that$6#2$ wonderful 402:280;18[' ]| bringing together of two times in$4$ the Ariadne, in$4$ the National*Gallery? 402:280;19[' ]| Precipitous, with his reeling satyr rout about him, 402:280;20[' ]| re-peopling and re-illuming suddenly the waste places, drunk 402:280;21[' ]| with a new fury beyond the grape, Bacchus, born in$4$ fire, 402:280;22[' ]| fire-like flings himself at the Cretan. This is the time present. 402:280;23[' ]| With this telling of the story ~~ an artist, and no$2$ ordinary one, 402:280;24[' ]| might remain richly proud. Guido, in$4$ his harmonious version 402:280;25[' ]| of it, saw no$2$ further. But from the depths of the imaginative 402:280;26[' ]| spirit Titian has recalled past time, and laid it contributory 402:280;27[' ]| with the present to$4$ one simultaneous effect. With the desert 402:280;28[' ]| all ringing with the mad cymbals of his followers, made lucid 402:280;29[' ]| with the presence and new offers of a god, ~~ as if unconscious 402:281;01[' ]| of Bacchus, or but idly casting her eyes as upon$4$ some 402:281;02[' ]| unconcerning pageant ~~ her soul undistracted from Theseus 402:281;03[' ]| ~~ Ariadne is still pacing the solitary shore in$4$ as much heart-silence, 402:281;04[' ]| and in$4$ almost the same local solitude, with which$6#1$ 402:281;05[' ]| she awoke at daybreak to$9$ catch the forlorn last glances of 402:281;06[' ]| the sail that$6#1$ bore away the Athenian. 402:281;07[' ]| Here are two points miraculously co-uniting; fierce 402:281;08[' ]| society, with the feeling of solitude still absolute; noonday 402:281;09[' ]| revelations, with the accidents of the dull grey dawn 402:281;10[' ]| unquenched and lingering; the \present\ Bacchus, with the 402:281;11[' ]| \past\ Ariadne; two stories, with double Time; separate, and 402:281;12[' ]| harmonising. Had the artist made the woman one shade less 402:281;13[' ]| indifferent to$4$ the God; still more, had she expressed a rapture 402:281;14[' ]| at his advent, where would have been the story of the mighty 402:281;15[' ]| desolation of the heart previous? merged in$4$ the insipid 402:281;16[' ]| accident of a flattering offer met with a welcome acceptance. 402:281;17[' ]| The broken heart for$4$ Theseus was not lightly to$9$ be pierced up$5$ 402:281;18[' ]| by$4$ a God. 402:281;19[' ]| We have before us a fine rough print, from a picture by$4$ 402:281;20[' ]| Raphael in$4$ the Vatican. It is the Presentation of the new-born 402:281;21[' ]| Eve to$4$ Adam by$4$ the Almighty. A fairer mother of 402:281;22[' ]| mankind we might imagine, and a goodlier sire perhaps of 402:281;23[' ]| men since born. But these are matters subordinate to$4$ the 402:281;24[' ]| conception of the \situation\, displayed in$4$ this extraordinary 402:281;25[' ]| production. A tolerably modern artist would have been 402:281;26[' ]| satisfied with tempering certain raptures of connubial anticipation, 402:281;27[' ]| with a suitable acknowledgment of the Giver of the 402:281;28[' ]| blessing, in$4$ the countenance of the first bridegroom; something 402:281;29[' ]| like$4$ the divided attention of the child (Adam was 402:281;30[' ]| here a child-man) between the given toy, and the mother 402:281;31[' ]| who$6#1$ had just blest it with the bauble. This is the obvious, 402:281;32[' ]| the first-sight view, the superficial. An artist of a higher 402:281;33[' ]| grade, considering the awful presence they were in$4$, would 402:281;34[' ]| have taken care to$9$ subtract something from the expression 402:281;35[' ]| of the more human passion, and to$9$ heighten the more 402:281;36[' ]| spiritual one. This would be as much as an exhibition-goer, 402:281;37[' ]| from the opening of Somerset*House to$4$ last year's show, has 402:281;38[' ]| been enouraged to$9$ look for$4$. It is obvious to$9$ hint at a lower 402:281;39[' ]| expression yet, in$4$ a picture that$6#1$, for$4$ respects of drawing and 402:281;40[' ]| colouring, might be deemed not wholly inadmissible within 402:281;41[' ]| these art-fostering walls, in$4$ which$6#1$ the raptures should be as 402:281;42[' ]| ninety-nine, the gratitude as one, or perhaps zero! By$4$ neither 402:282;01[' ]| the one passion nor the other has Raphael expounded the 402:282;02[' ]| situation of Adam. Singly upon$4$ his brow sits the absorbing 402:282;03[' ]| sense of wonder at the created miracle. The \moment\ is seized 402:282;04[' ]| by$4$ the intuitive artist, perhaps not self-conscious of his art, 402:282;05[' ]| in$4$ which$6#1$ neither of the conflicting emotions ~~ a moment 402:282;06[' ]| how abstracted! ~~ have had time to$9$ spring up$5$, or to$9$ battle 402:282;07[' ]| for$4$ indecorous mastery. ~~ We have seen a landscape of a 402:282;08[' ]| justly admired neoteric, in$4$ which$6#1$ he aimed at delineating 402:282;09[' ]| a fiction, one of the most severely beautiful in$4$ antiquity ~~ 402:282;10[' ]| the gardens of the Hesperides. To$9$ do Mr%*** justice, he had 402:282;11[' ]| painted a laudable orchard, with fitting seclusion, and a 402:282;12[' ]| veritable dragon (of which$6#1$ a Polypheme, by$4$ Poussin, is 402:282;13[' ]| somehow a fac-simile for$4$ the situation), looking over into 402:282;14[' ]| the world shut out backwards, so$3$ that$3$ none but a ""still-climbing 402:282;15[' ]| Hercules"" could hope to$9$ catch a peep at the 402:282;16[' ]| admired Ternary*of*Recluses. No$2$ conventual porter could 402:282;17[' ]| keep his eyes better than this custos with the ""lidless eyes."" 402:282;18[' ]| He not only sees that$3$ none \do\ intrude from that$6#2$ privacy, 402:282;19[' ]| but, as clear as daylight, that$3$ none but \Hercules 7aut Diabolus\ 402:282;20[' ]| by$4$ any manner of means \can\. So$5#1$ far all is well. We have 402:282;21[' ]| absolute solitude here or nowhere. \7Ab 7extra\ the damsels are 402:282;22[' ]| snug enough. But here the artist's courage seems to$9$ have 402:282;23[' ]| failed him. He began to$9$ pity his pretty charge, and, to$9$ comfort 402:282;24[' ]| the irksomeness, has peopled their solitude with a bevy of 402:282;25[' ]| fair attendants, maids of honour, or ladies of the bed-chamber, 402:282;26[' ]| according to$4$ the approved etiquette at a court of 402:282;27[' ]| the nineteenth century; giving to$4$ the whole scene the air 402:282;28[' ]| of a \9fe^te-champe^tre\, if we will$1$ but excuse the absence of the 402:282;29[' ]| gentlemen. This is well, and Watteauish. But what is become 402:282;30[' ]| of the solitary mystery ~~ the 402:282;31[' ]| Daughters three 402:282;32[' ]| That$6#1$ sing around the golden tree? 402:282;33[' ]| This is not the way in$4$ which$6#1$ Poussin would have treated this 402:282;34[' ]| subject. 402:282;35[' ]| The paintings, or rather the stupendous architectural 402:282;36[' ]| designs, of a modern artist, have been urged as objections 402:282;37[' ]| to$4$ the theory of our motto. They are of a character, we confess, 402:282;38[' ]| to$9$ stagger it. His towered structures are of the highest order 402:282;39[' ]| of the material sublime. Whether they were dreams, or 402:282;40[' ]| transcripts of some elder workmanship ~~ Assyrian ruins old 402:282;41[' ]| ~~ restored by$4$ this mighty artist, they satisfy our most 402:283;01[' ]| stretched and craving conceptions of the glories of the 402:283;02[' ]| antique world. It is a pity that$3$ they were ever peopled. On$4$ 402:283;03[' ]| that$6#2$ side, the imagination of the artist halts, and appears 402:283;04[' ]| defective. Let us examine the point of the story in$4$ the 402:283;05[' ]| Belshazzar's*Feast. We will$1$ introduce it by$4$ an apposite 402:283;06[' ]| anecdote. 402:283;07[' ]| The court historians of the day record, that$3$ at the first 402:283;08[' ]| dinner given by$4$ the late King (then Prince*Regent) at the 402:283;09[' ]| Pavilion, the following characteristic frolic was played off. 402:283;10[' ]| The guests were select and admiring; the banquet profuse 402:283;11[' ]| and admirable; the lights lustrous and oriental; the eye was 402:283;12[' ]| perfectly dazzled with the display of plate, among which$6#1$ 402:283;13[' ]| the great gold salt-cellar, brought from the regalia in$4$ the 402:283;14[' ]| Tower for$4$ this especial purpose, itself a tower! stood conspicuous 402:283;15[' ]| for$4$ its magnitude. And now the Rev%***, the 402:283;16[' ]| then admired court Chaplain, was proceeding with the grace, 402:283;17[' ]| when, at a signal given, the lights were suddenly overcast, 402:283;18[' ]| and a huge transparency was discovered, in$4$ which$6#1$ glittered 402:283;19[' ]| in$4$ gold letters ~~ 402:283;20@z | ""BRIGHTON ~~ EARTHQUAKE ~~ SWALLOW-UP-ALIVE!"" 402:283;21[' ]| Imagine the confusion of the guests; the Georges and garters, 402:283;22[' ]| jewels, bracelets, moulted upon$4$ the occasion! The fans 402:283;23[' ]| dropped, and picked up$5$ the next morning by$4$ the sly court-pages! 402:283;24[' ]| Mrs%*Fitz-what's-her-name fainting, and the Countess*of*** 402:283;25[' ]| holding the smelling-bottle, till the good-humoured 402:283;26[' ]| Prince caused harmony to$9$ be restored, by$4$ calling in$5$ fresh 402:283;27[' ]| candles, and declaring that$3$ the whole was nothing but a 402:283;28[' ]| pantomime \hoax\, got up$5$ by$4$ the ingenious Mr%*Farley, of 402:283;29[' ]| Covent*Garden, from hints which$6#1$ his Royal*Highness himself 402:283;30[' ]| had furnished! Then imagine the infinite applause that$6#1$ 402:283;31[' ]| followed, the mutual rallyings, the declarations that$3$ 402:283;31[Y ]| ""they 402:283;32[Y ]| were not much frightened,"" 402:283;32[' ]| of the assembled galaxy. 402:283;33[' ]| The point of time in$4$ the picture exactly answers to$4$ the 402:283;34[' ]| appearance of the transparency in$4$ the anecdote. The huddle, 402:283;35[' ]| the flutter, the bustle, the escape, the alarm, and the mock 402:283;36[' ]| alarm; the prettinesses heightened by$4$ consternation; the 402:283;37[' ]| courtier's fear which$6#1$ was flattery; and the lady's which$6#1$ was 402:283;38[' ]| affectation; all that$6#1$ we may conceive to$9$ have taken place 402:283;39[' ]| in$4$ a mob of Brighton courtiers, sympathising with the well-acted 402:283;40[' ]| surprise of their sovereign; all this, and no$2$ more, is 402:283;41[' ]| exhibited by$4$ the well-dressed lords and ladies in$4$ the Hall*of*Belus. 402:284;01[' ]| Just this sort of consternation we have seen among 402:284;02[' ]| a flock of disquieted wild geese at the report only of a gun 402:284;03[' ]| having gone off! 402:284;04[' ]| But is this vulgar fright, this mere animal anxiety for$4$ the 402:284;05[' ]| preservation of their persons, ~~ such as we have witnessed 402:284;06[' ]| at a theatre, when a slight alarm of fire has been given ~~ an 402:284;07[' ]| adequate exponent of a supernatural terror? The way in$4$ which$6#1$ 402:284;08[' ]| the finger of God, writing judgments, would have been met 402:284;09[' ]| by$4$ the withered conscience? There is a human fear, and a 402:284;10[' ]| divine fear. The one is disturbed, restless, and bent upon$4$ 402:284;11[' ]| escape. The other is bowed down, effortless, passive. When 402:284;12[' ]| the spirit appeared before Eliphaz in$4$ the visons of the night, 402:284;13[' ]| and the hair of his flesh stood up$5$, was it in$4$ the thoughts of 402:284;14[' ]| the Temanite to$9$ ring the bell of his chamber, or to$9$ call up$5$ 402:284;15[' ]| the servants? But let us see in$4$ the text what there is to$9$ justify 402:284;16[' ]| all this huddle of vulgar consternation. 402:284;17[' ]| From the words of Daniel it appears that$3$ Belshazzar had 402:284;18[' ]| made a great feast to$4$ a thousand of his lords, and drank 402:284;19[' ]| wine before the thousand. The golden and silver vessels are 402:284;20[' ]| gorgeously enumerated, with the princes, the king's concubines, 402:284;21[' ]| and his wives. Then follows ~~ 402:284;22@z | ""In$4$ the same hour came forth fingers of a man's hand, and 402:284;23@z | wrote over against the candlestick upon$4$ the plaster of the 402:284;24@z | wall of the king's palace; and the \king\ saw the part of the 402:284;25@z | hand that$6#1$ wrote. Then the \king's\ countenance was changed 402:284;26@z | and his thoughts troubled him, so$3$ that$3$ the joints of his loins 402:284;27@z | were loosened, and his knees smote one against another."" 402:284;28[' ]| This is the plain text. By$4$ no$2$ hint can it be otherwise 402:284;29[' ]| inferred, but that$3$ the appearance was solely confined to$4$ the 402:284;30[' ]| fancy of Belshazzar, that$3$ his single brain was troubled. Not 402:284;31[' ]| a word is spoken of its being seen by$4$ any*one else there present, 402:284;32[' ]| not even by$4$ the queen herself, who$6#1$ merely undertakes for$4$ 402:284;33[' ]| the interpretation of the phenomenon, as related to$4$ her, 402:284;34[' ]| doubtless, by$4$ her husband. The lords are simply said to$9$ be 402:284;35[' ]| astonished; \i%*e%\, at the trouble and the change of countenance 402:284;36[' ]| in$4$ their sovereign. Even the prophet does not appear to$9$ 402:284;37[' ]| have seen the scroll, which$6#1$ the king saw. He recalls it only, 402:284;38[' ]| as Joseph did the Dream to$4$ the King*of*Egypt. 402:284;38@z | ""Then was 402:284;39@z | the part of the hand sent from him (the Lord), and this 402:284;40@z | writing was written."" 402:284;40[' ]| He speaks of the phantasm as past. 402:284;41[' ]| Then what becomes of this needless multiplication of the 402:284;42[' ]| miracle? this message to$4$ a royal conscience, singly expressed 402:285;01[' ]| ~~ for$3$ it was said, 402:285;01@z | ""Thy kingdom is divided,"" ~~ 402:285;01[' ]| simultaneously 402:285;02[' ]| impressed upon$4$ the fancies of a thousand courtiers, who$6#1$ were 402:285;03[' ]| implied in$4$ it neither directly nor grammatically? 402:285;04[' ]| But admitting the artist's own version of the story, and that$3$ 402:285;05[' ]| the sight was seen also by$4$ the thousand courtiers ~~ let it have 402:285;06[' ]| been visible to$4$ all Babylon ~~ as the knees of Belshazzar were 402:285;07[' ]| shaken, and his countenance troubled, even so$5#2$ would the 402:285;08[' ]| knees of every man in$4$ Babylon, and their countenances, as 402:285;09[' ]| of an individual man, have been troubled; bowed, bent 402:285;10[' ]| down, so$3$ would they have remained, stupor-fixed, with no$2$ 402:285;11[' ]| thought of struggling with that$6#2$ inevitable judgment. 402:285;12[' ]| Not all that$6#1$ is optically possible to$9$ be seen, is to$9$ be shown 402:285;13[' ]| in$4$ every picture. The eye delightedly dwells upon$4$ the brilliant 402:285;14[' ]| individualities in$4$ a Marriage*at*Cana, by$4$ Veronese, or Titian, 402:285;15[' ]| to$4$ the very texture and colour of the wedding garments, 402:285;16[' ]| the ring glittering upon$4$ the bride's fingers, the metal and 402:285;17[' ]| fashion of the wine-pots; for$3$ at such seasons there is leisure 402:285;18[' ]| and luxury to$9$ be curious. But in$4$ a ""day of judgment,"" or in$4$ 402:285;19[' ]| a ""day of lesser horrors, yet divine,"" as the impious feast 402:285;20[' ]| of Belshazzar, the eye should see, as the actual eye of an 402:285;21[' ]| agent or patient in$4$ the immediate scene would see, only in$4$ 402:285;22[' ]| masses and indistinction. Not only the female attire and 402:285;23[' ]| Jewelry exposed to$4$ the critical eye of fashion, as minutely as 402:285;24[' ]| the dresses in$4$ a Lady's Magazine, in$4$ the criticised picture, ~~ 402:285;25[' ]| but perhaps the curiosities of anatomical science, and studied 402:285;26[' ]| diversities of posture, in$4$ the falling angels and sinners of 402:285;27[' ]| Michael*Angelo, ~~ have no$2$ business in$4$ their great subjects. 402:285;28[' ]| There was no$2$ leisure for$4$ them. 402:285;29[' ]| By$4$ a wise falsification, the great master of painting got 402:285;30[' ]| at their true conclusions; by$4$ not showing the actual appearances, 402:285;31[' ]| that$6#2$ is, all that$6#1$ was to$9$ be seen at any given moment 402:285;32[' ]| by$4$ an indifferent eye, but only what the eye might be supposed 402:285;33[' ]| to$9$ see in$4$ the doing or suffering of some portentous action. 402:285;34[' ]| Suppose the moment of the swallowing up$5$ of Pompeii. There 402:285;35[' ]| they were to$9$ be seen ~~ houses, coulumns, architectural 402:285;36[' ]| proportions, differences of public and private buildings, 402:285;37[' ]| men and women at their standing occupations, the diversified 402:285;38[' ]| thousand postures, attitudes, dreses, in$4$ some confusion 402:285;39[' ]| truly, but physically they were visible. But what eye saw 402:285;40[' ]| them at that$6#2$ eclipsing moment, which$6#1$ reduces confusion 402:285;41[' ]| to$4$ a kind of unity, and when the senses are upturned from 402:285;42[' ]| their proprieties, when sight and hearing are a feeling only? 402:286;01[' ]| A thousand years have passed, and we are at leisure to$9$ 402:286;02[' ]| contemplate the weaver fixed standing at his shuttle, the 402:286;03[' ]| baker at his oven, and turn over with antiquarian coolness 402:286;04[' ]| the pots and pans of Pompeii. 402:286;05@z | ""Sun, stand thou still upon$4$ Gibeon, and thou, Moon, in$4$ 402:286;06@z | the valley of Ajalon."" 402:286;06[' ]| Who$6#2$, in$4$ reading this magnificent 402:286;07[' ]| Hebraism, in$4$ his conception, sees aught but the heroic son 402:286;08[' ]| of Nun, with the outstretched arm, and the greater and 402:286;09[' ]| lesser light obsequious? Doubtless there were to$9$ be seen hill 402:286;10[' ]| and dale, and chariots and horsemen, on$4$ open plain, or 402:286;11[' ]| winding by$4$ secret defiles, and all the circumstances and 402:286;12[' ]| stratagems of war. But whose eyes would have been conscious 402:286;13[' ]| of this array at the interposition of the synchronic miracle? Yet 402:286;14[' ]| in$4$ the picture of this subject by$4$ the artist of the Belshazzar's 402:286;15[' ]| Feast ~~ no$2$ ignoble work either ~~ the marshalling and landscape 402:286;16[' ]| of the war is everything, the miracle sinks into an 402:286;17[' ]| anecdote of the day; and the eye may ""dart through rank 402:286;18[' ]| and file traverse"" for$4$ some minutes, before it shall discover, 402:286;19[' ]| among his armed followers, \which$6#1$ is Joshua!\ Not modern art 402:286;20[' ]| alone, but ancient, where only it is to$9$ be found if anywhere, 402:286;21[' ]| can be detected erring, from defect of this imaginative faculty. 402:286;22[' ]| The world has nothing to$9$ show of the preternatural in$4$ 402:286;23[' ]| painting, transcending the figure of Lazarus bursting his 402:286;24[' ]| grave-clothes, in$4$ the great picture at Angerstein's. It seems 402:286;25[' ]| a thing between two beings. A ghastly horror at itself struggles 402:286;26[' ]| with newly-apprehending gratitude at second life bestowed. 402:286;27[' ]| It cannot forget that$3$ it was a ghost. It has hardly felt that$3$ it 402:286;28[' ]| is a body. It has to$9$ tell of the world of spirits. ~~ Was it from 402:286;29[' ]| a feeling, that$3$ the crowd of half-impassioned bystanders, 402:286;30[' ]| and the still more irrelevant herd of passers-by at a distance, 402:286;31[' ]| who$6#1$ have not heard, or but faintly have been told of the 402:286;32[' ]| passing miracle, admirable as they are in$4$ design and hue ~~ 402:286;33[' ]| for$3$ it is a glorified work ~~ do not respond adequately to$4$ the 402:286;34[' ]| action ~~ that$3$ the single figure of the Lazarus has been 402:286;35[' ]| attributed to$4$ Michael*Angelo, and the mighty Sebastian 402:286;36[' ]| unfairly robbed of the fame of the greater half of the interest? 402:286;37[' ]| Now that$3$ there were not indifferent passers-by within actual 402:286;38[' ]| scope of the eyes of those present at the miracle, to$4$ whom 402:286;39[' ]| the sound of it had but faintly, or not at all, reached, it would 402:286;40[' ]| be hardihood to$9$ deny; but would they see them? or can the 402:286;41[' ]| mind in$4$ the conception of it admit of such unconcerning 402:286;42[' ]| objects; can it think of them at all? or what associating league 402:287;01[' ]| to$4$ the imagination can there be between the seers, and the 402:287;02[' ]| seers not, of a presential miracle? 402:287;03[' ]| Were an artist to$9$ paint upon$4$ demand a picture of a Dryad, 402:287;04[' ]| we will$1$ ask whether, in$4$ the present low state of expectation, 402:287;05[' ]| the patron would not, or ought not to$9$ be fully satisfied with 402:287;06[' ]| a beautiful naked figure recumbent under wide-stretched 402:287;07[' ]| oaks? Dis-seat those woods, and place the same figure among 402:287;08[' ]| fountains, and fall of pellucid water, and you have a ~~ Naiad! 402:287;09[' ]| Not so$5#2$ in$4$ a rough print we have seen after Julio*Romano, we 402:287;10[' ]| think ~~ for$3$ it is long since ~~ \there\, by$4$ no$2$ process, with mere 402:287;11[' ]| change of scene, could the figure have reciprocated characters. 402:287;12[' ]| Long, grotesque, fantastic, yet with a grace of her own, 402:287;13[' ]| beautiful in$4$ convolution and distortion, linked to$4$ her 402:287;14[' ]| connatural tree, co-twisting with its limbs her own, till both 402:287;15[' ]| seemed either ~~ these, animated branches; those, disanimated 402:287;16[' ]| members ~~ yet the animal and vegetable lives sufficiently 402:287;17[' ]| kept distinct ~~ \his\ Dryad lay ~~ an approximation of two 402:287;18[' ]| natures, which$6#1$ to$9$ conceive, it must be seen; analogous to$4$, 402:287;19[' ]| not the same with, the delicacies of Ovidian transformations. 402:287;20[' ]| To$4$ the lowest subjects, and, to$4$ a superficial comprehension, 402:287;21[' ]| the most barren, the Great*Masters gave loftiness and 402:287;22[' ]| fruitfulness. The large eye of genius saw in$4$ the meanness of 402:287;23[' ]| present objects their capabilities of treatment from their 402:287;24[' ]| relations to$4$ some grand Past or Future. How has Raphael 402:287;25[' ]| ~~ we must still linger about the Vatican ~~ treated the humble 402:287;26[' ]| craft of the shipbuilder, in$4$ \his\ Building of the Ark? It is in$4$ 402:287;27[' ]| that$6#2$ scriptural series, to$4$ which$6#1$ we have referred, and which$6#1$, 402:287;28[' ]| judging from some fine rough old graphic sketches of them 402:287;29[' ]| which$6#1$ we possess, seem to$9$ be of a higher and more poetic 402:287;30[' ]| grade than even the Cartoons. The dim of sight are the timid 402:287;31[' ]| and the shrinking. There is a cowardice in$4$ modern art. As 402:287;32[' ]| the Frenchman, of whom Coleridge's friend made the prophetic 402:287;33[' ]| guess at Rome, from the beard and horns of the Moses 402:287;34[' ]| of Michael*Angelo collected no$2$ inferences beyond that$6#2$ of a 402:287;35[' ]| He*Goat and a Cornuto; so$3$ from this subject, of mere 402:287;36[' ]| mechanic promise, it would instinctively turn away, as from 402:287;37[' ]| one incapable of investiture with any grandeur. The dockyards 402:287;38[' ]| at Woolwich would object derogatory associations. The 402:287;39[' ]| depo^t at Chatham would be the mote and the beam in$4$ its 402:287;40[' ]| intellectual eye. But not to$4$ the nautical preparations in$4$ the 402:287;41[' ]| ship-yards of Civita*Vecchia did Raphael look for$4$ instructions, 402:287;42[' ]| when he imagined the building of the Vessel that$6#1$ was to$9$ be 402:288;01[' ]| conservatory of the wrecks of the species of drowned mankind. 402:288;02[' ]| In$4$ the intensity of the action, he keeps ever out of sight the 402:288;03[' ]| meanness of the operation. There is the Patriarch, in$4$ calm 402:288;04[' ]| forethought, and with holy prescience, giving directions. 402:288;05[' ]| And there are his agents ~~ the solitary but sufficient Three ~~ 402:288;06[' ]| hewing, sawing, every one with the might and earnestness 402:288;07[' ]| of a Demiurgus; under some instinctive rather than technical 402:288;08[' ]| guidance! giant-muscled; every one a Hercules, or liker to$4$ 402:288;09[' ]| those Vulcanian*Three, that$6#1$ in$4$ sounding caverns under 402:288;10[' ]| Mongibello wrought in$4$ fire ~~ Brontes, and black Steropes, 402:288;11[' ]| and Pyracmon. So$5#2$ work the workmen that$6#1$ should repair 402:288;12[' ]| a world! 402:288;13[' ]| Artists again err in$4$ the confounding of \poetic\ with \pictorial\ 402:288;14[' ]| \subjects\. In$4$ the latter, the exterior accidents are nearly everything, 402:288;15[' ]| the unseen qualities as nothing. Othello's colour ~~ the 402:288;16[' ]| infirmities and corpulence of a Sir*John*Falstaff ~~ do they 402:288;17[' ]| haunt us perpetually in$4$ the reading? or are they obtruded 402:288;18[' ]| upon$4$ our conception one time for$4$ ninety-nine that$3$ we are 402:288;19[' ]| lost in$4$ admiration of the respective moral or intellectual 402:288;20[' ]| attributes of the character? But in$4$ a picture Othello is \always\ 402:288;21[' ]| a Blackamoor; and the other only Plump*Jack. Deeply 402:288;22[' ]| corporealised, and enchained hopelessly in$4$ the grovelling 402:288;23[' ]| fetters of externality, must be the mind, to$4$ which$6#1$, in$4$ its 402:288;24[' ]| better moments, the image of the high-souled, high-intelligenced 402:288;25[' ]| Quixote ~~ the errant Star*of*Knighthood, made more 402:288;26[' ]| tender by$4$ eclipse ~~ has never presented itself divested from 402:288;27[' ]| the unhallowed accompaniment of a Sancho, or a rabblement 402:288;28[' ]| at the heels of Rosinante. That$6#2$ man has read his book by$4$ 402:288;29[' ]| halves; he has laughed, mistaking his author's purport, which$6#1$ 402:288;30[' ]| was ~~ tears. The artist that$6#1$ pictures Quixote (and it is in$4$ 402:288;31[' ]| this degrading point that$3$ he is every season held up$5$ at our 402:288;32[' ]| Exhibitions) in$4$ the shallow hope of exciting mirth, would 402:288;33[' ]| have joined the rabble at the heels of his starved steed. We 402:288;34[' ]| wish not to$9$ see \that$6#2$\ counterfeited, which$6#1$ we would not have 402:288;35[' ]| wished to$9$ see in$4$ the reality. Conscious of the heroic inside of 402:288;36[' ]| the noble Quixote, who$6#1$, on$4$ hearing that$3$ his withered person 402:288;37[' ]| was passing, would have stepped over his threshold to$9$ gaze 402:288;38[' ]| upon$4$ his forlorn habiliments, and the 402:288;38@z | ""strange bed-fellows 402:288;39@z | which$6#1$ misery brings a man acquainted with""? 402:288;39[' ]| Shade of 402:288;40[' ]| Cervantes! who$6#1$ in$4$ thy Second*Part could put into the mouth 402:288;41[' ]| of thy Quixote those high aspirations of a super-chivalrous 402:288;42[' ]| gallantry, where he replies to$4$ one of the shepherdesses, 402:289;01[' ]| apprehensive that$3$ he would spoil their pretty net-works, and 402:289;02[' ]| inviting him to$9$ be a guest with them, in$4$ accents like$4$ these: 402:289;03[Z ]| ""Truly, fairest Lady, Acta*eon was not more astonished when 402:289;04[Z ]| he saw Diana bathing herself at the fountain, than I have 402:289;05[Z ]| been in$4$ beholding your beauty: I commend the manner of 402:289;06[Z ]| your pastime, and thank you for$4$ your kind offers; and, if 402:289;07[Z ]| I may serve you, so$3$ I may be sure you will$1$ be obeyed, you 402:289;08[Z ]| may command me: for$3$ my profession is this, To$9$ show myself 402:289;09[Z ]| thankful, and a doer of good to$4$ all sorts of people, especially 402:289;10[Z ]| of the rank that$6#1$ your person shows you to$9$ be; and if those 402:289;11[Z ]| nets, as they take up$5$ but a little piece of ground, should take 402:289;12[Z ]| up$5$ the whole world, I would seek out new worlds to$9$ pass 402:289;13[Z ]| through, rather than break them: and 402:289;13[' ]| (he adds) 402:289;13[Z ]| that$3$ you 402:289;14[Z ]| may give credit to$4$ this my exaggeration, behold at least he 402:289;15[Z ]| that$6#1$ promiseth you this, is Don*Quixote*de*la*Mancha, if 402:289;16[Z ]| haply this name hath come to$4$ your hearing."" 402:289;16[' ]| Illustrious 402:289;17[' ]| Romancer! were the ""fine frenzies,"" which$6#1$ possessed the brain 402:289;18[' ]| of thy own Quixote, a fit subject, as in$4$ this Second*Part, to$9$ 402:289;19[' ]| be exposed to$4$ the jeers of Duennas and Serving-men? to$9$ 402:289;20[' ]| be monstered, and shown up$5$ at the heartless banquets of 402:289;21[' ]| great men? Was that$6#2$ pitiable infirmity, which$6#1$ in$4$ thy First*Part 402:289;22[' ]| misleads him, \always from within\, into half-ludicrous, 402:289;23[' ]| but more than half-compassionable and admirable errors, 402:289;24[' ]| not infliction enough from heaven, that$3$ men by$4$ studied 402:289;25[' ]| artifices must devise and practise upon$4$ the humour, to$9$ inflame 402:289;26[' ]| where they should soothe it? Why, Goneril would have 402:289;27[' ]| blushed to$9$ practise upon$4$ the abdicated king at this rate, 402:289;28[' ]| and the she-wolf Regan not have endured to$9$ play the pranks 402:289;29[' ]| upon$4$ his fled wits, which$6#1$ thou hast made thy Quixote suffer 402:289;30[' ]| in$4$ Duchesses' halls, and at the hands of that$6#2$ unworthy 402:289;31[' ]| nobleman. 402:289;32[' ]| In$4$ the First*Adventures, even, it needed all the art of 402:289;33[' ]| the most consummate artist in$4$ the Book way that$6#1$ the world 402:289;34[' ]| hath yet seen, to$9$ keep up$5$ in$4$ the mind of the reader the heroic 402:289;35[' ]| attributes of the character without relaxing; so$3$ as absolutely 402:289;36[' ]| that$3$ they shall suffer no$2$ alloy from the debasing fellowship 402:289;37[' ]| of the clown. If it ever obtrudes itself as a disharmony, are 402:289;38[' ]| we inclined to$9$ laugh; or not, rather, to$9$ indulge a contrary 402:289;39[' ]| emotion? ~~ Cervantes, stung, perchance, by$4$ the relish with 402:289;40[' ]| which$6#1$ \his\ Reading*Public had received the fooleries of the 402:290;01[' ]| man, more to$4$ their palates than the generosities of the master, 402:290;02[' ]| in$4$ the sequel let his pen run riot, lost the harmony and the 402:290;03[' ]| balance, and sacrificed a great idea to$4$ the taste of his contemporaries. 402:290;04[' ]| We know that$3$ in$4$ the present day the Knight 402:290;05[' ]| has fewer admirers than the Squire. Anticipating, what did 402:290;06[' ]| actually happen to$4$ him ~~ as afterwards it did to$4$ his scarce 402:290;07[' ]| inferior follower, the Author of ""Guzman*de*Alfarache"" ~~ 402:290;08[' ]| that$6#1$ some less knowing hand would prevent him by$4$ a spurious 402:290;09[' ]| Second*Part; and judging that$3$ it would be easier for$4$ his 402:290;10[' ]| competitor to$9$ outbid him in$4$ the comicalities, than in$4$ the 402:290;11[' ]| \romance\, of his work, he abandoned his Knight, and has fairly 402:290;12[' ]| set up$5$ the Squire for$4$ his Hero. For$4$ what else has he unsealed 402:290;13[' ]| the eyes of Sancho? and instead of that$6#2$ twilight state of 402:290;14[' ]| semi-insanity ~~ the madness at second-hand ~~ the contagion, 402:290;15[' ]| caught from a stronger mind infected ~~ that$6#2$ war between 402:290;16[' ]| native cunning, and hereditary deference, with which$6#1$ he 402:290;17[' ]| has hitherto accompanied his master ~~ two for$4$ a pair almost 402:290;18[' ]| ~~ does he substitute a downright Knave, with open eyes, 402:290;19[' ]| for$4$ his own ends only following a confessed Madman; and 402:290;20[' ]| offering at one time to$9$ lay, if not actually laying, hands upon$4$ 402:290;21[' ]| him! From the moment that$6#1$ Sancho loses his reverence, Don*Quixote 402:290;22[' ]| is become ~~ a treatable lunatic. Our artists handle 402:290;23[' ]| him accordingly. 017:177;00@@@@@| 017:177;22[' ]| 017:177;23[A ]| <\Godiva\> There is a dearth in$4$ the land, my sweet Leofric! Remember 017:177;24[A ]| how many weeks of drought we have had, even in$4$ the deep pastures 017:177;25[A ]| of Leicestershire; and how many Sundays we have heard the same 017:177;26[A ]| prayers for$4$ rain, and supplications that$3$ it would please the Lord in$4$ his 017:177;27[A ]| mercy to$9$ turn aside his anger from the poor pining cattle. You, my 017:177;28[A ]| dear husband, have imprisoned more than one malefactor for$4$ leaving 017:177;29[A ]| his dead ox in$4$ the public way; and other hinds have fled before you 017:177;30[A ]| out of the traces, in$4$ which$6#1$ they and their sons and their daughters, 017:177;31[A ]| and haply their old fathers and mothers, were dragging the abandoned 017:177;32[A ]| wain homeward. Although we were accompanied by$4$ many brave 017:177;33[A ]| spearmen and skilful archers, it was perilous to$9$ pass the creatures 017:177;34[A ]| which$6#1$ the farm-yard dogs, driven from the hearth by$4$ the poverty of 017:177;35[A ]| their masters, were tearing and devouring; while others, bitten and 017:177;36[A ]| lamed, filled the air either with long and deep howls or sharp and 017:177;37[A ]| quick barkings, as they struggled with hunger and feebleness or were 017:177;38[A ]| exasperated by$4$ heat and pain. Nor could the thyme from the heath, 017:177;39[A ]| nor the bruised branches of the fir-tree, extinguish or abate the foul 017:177;40[A ]| odour. 017:177;41[B ]| <\Leofric\> And now, Godiva my darling, thou art afraid we should be 017:177;42[B ]| eaten up$5$ before we enter the gates of Coventry; or perchance that$3$ in$4$ 017:178;01[B ]| the gardens there are no$2$ roses to$9$ greet thee, no$2$ sweet herbs for$4$ thy 017:178;02[B ]| mat and pillow. 017:178;03[A ]| <\Godiva\> Leofric, I have no$2$ such fears. This is the month of roses: I 017:178;04[A ]| find them everywhere since my blessed marriage: they, and all other 017:178;05[A ]| sweet herbs, I know not why, seem to$9$ greet me wherever I look at 017:178;06[A ]| them, as though they knew and expected me. Surely they can not feel 017:178;07[A ]| that$3$ I am fond of them. 017:178;08[B ]| <\Leofric\> O light laughing simpleton! But what wouldst thou? I came 017:178;09[B ]| not hither to$9$ pray; and yet if praying would satisfy thee, or remove the 017:178;10[B ]| drought, I would ride up$5$ straightway to$4$ Saint*Michael's and pray 017:178;11[B ]| until morning. 017:178;12[A ]| <\Godiva\> I would do the same, O Leofric! but God hath turned away 017:178;13[A ]| his ear from holier lips than mine. Would my own dear husband hear 017:178;14[A ]| me, if I implored him for$4$ what is easier to$9$ accomplish? what he can 017:178;15[A ]| do like$4$ God. 017:178;16[B ]| <\Leofric\> How! what is it! 017:178;17[A ]| <\Godiva\> I would not, in$4$ the first hurry of your wrath, appeal to$4$ you, 017:178;18[A ]| my loving lord, in$4$ behalf of these unhappy men who$6#1$ have offended 017:178;19[A ]| you. 017:178;20[B ]| <\Leofric\> Unhappy! is that$6#2$ all? 017:178;21[A ]| <\Godiva\> Unhappy they must surely be, to$9$ have offended you so$5#1$ 017:178;22[A ]| grievously. What a soft air breathes over us! how quiet and serene and 017:178;23[A ]| still an evening! how calm are the heavens and the earth! shall none 017:178;24[A ]| enjoy them? not even we, my Leofric! The sun is ready to$9$ set: let it 017:178;25[A ]| never set, O Leofric, on$4$ your anger. These are not my words; they 017:178;26[A ]| are better than mine; should they lose their virtue from my unworthiness 017:178;27[A ]| in$4$ uttering them! 017:178;28[B ]| <\Leofric\> Godiva, wouldst thou plead to$4$ me for$4$ rebels? 017:178;29[A ]| <\Godiva\> They have then drawn the sword against you! Indeed, I 017:178;30[A ]| knew it not. 017:178;31[B ]| <\Leofric\> They have omitted to$9$ send me my dues, established by$4$ my 017:178;32[B ]| ancestors, well knowing of our nuptials, and of the charges and festivities 017:178;33[B ]| they require, and that$3$ in$4$ a season of such scarcity my own lands 017:178;34[B ]| are insufficient. 017:178;35[A ]| <\Godiva\> If they were starving as they said they were ~~ 017:178;36[B ]| <\Leofric\> Must I starve too? Is it not enough to$9$ lose my vassals? 017:178;37[A ]| <\Godiva\> Enough! O God! too much! too much! may you never lose 017:178;38[A ]| them! Give them life, peace, comfort, contentment. There are those 017:178;39[A ]| among them who$6#1$ kissed me in$4$ my infancy, and who$6#1$ blessed me at the 017:178;40[A ]| baptismal font. Leofric, Leofric! the first old man I meet I shall think 017:178;41[A ]| is one of those; and I shall think on$4$ the blessing he gave, and (ah me!) 017:178;42[A ]| on$4$ the blessing I bring back to$4$ him. My heart will$1$ bleed, will$1$ burst 017:178;43[A ]| ~~ and he will$1$ weep at it! he will$1$ weep, poor soul! for$4$ the wife of a 017:178;44[A ]| cruel lord who$6#1$ denounces vengeance on$4$ him, who$6#1$ carries death into 017:178;45[A ]| his family. 017:178;46[B ]| <\Leofric\> We must hold solemn festivals. 017:178;47[A ]| <\Godiva\> We must, indeed. 017:178;48[B ]| <\Leofric\> Well then. 017:179;01[A ]| <\Godiva\> Is the clamorousness that$6#1$ succeeds the death of God's dumb 017:179;02[A ]| creatures, are crowded halls, are slaughtered cattle, festivals? are maddening 017:179;03[A ]| songs and giddy dances, and hireling praises from party-coloured 017:179;04[A ]| coats? Can the voice of a minstrel tell us better things of ourselves 017:179;05[A ]| than our own internal one might tell us; or can his breath make our 017:179;06[A ]| breath softer in$4$ sleep? O my beloved! let everything be a joyance to$4$ 017:179;07[A ]| us: it will$1$, if we will$1$. Sad is the day, and worse must follow, when we 017:179;08[A ]| hear the blackbird in$4$ the garden and do not throb with joy. But, 017:179;09[A ]| Leofric, the high festival is strown by$4$ the servant of God upon$4$ the 017:179;09[A ]| heart of man. It is gladness, it is thanksgiving; it is the orphan, the 017:179;10[A ]| starveling, pressed to$4$ the bosom, and bidden as its first commandment 017:179;11[A ]| to$9$ remember its benefactor. We will$1$ hold this festival; the guests are 017:179;12[A ]| ready: we may keep it up$5$ for$4$ weeks, and months, and years together, 017:179;13[A ]| and always be the happier and the richer for$4$ it. The beverage of this 017:179;14[A ]| feast, O Leofric, is sweeter than bee or flower or vine can give us: it 017:179;15[A ]| flows from heaven; and in$4$ heaven will$1$ it abundantly be poured out 017:179;16[A ]| again, to$4$ him who$6#1$ pours it out here unsparingly. 017:179;17[B ]| <\Leofric\> Thou art wild. 017:179;18[A ]| <\Godiva\> I have indeed lost myself. Some Power, some good kind 017:179;19[A ]| Power, melts me (body and soul and voice) into tenderness and love. 017:179;20[A ]| O, my husband, we must obey it. Look upon$4$ me! look upon$4$ me! lift 017:179;21[A ]| your sweet eyes from the ground! I will$1$ not cease to$9$ supplicate; I dare 017:179;22[A ]| not. 017:179;23[B ]| <\Leofric\> We may think upon$4$ it. 017:179;24[A ]| <\Godiva\> Never say that$6#2$! What! think upon$4$ goodness when you can 017:179;25[A ]| be good? Let not the infants cry for$4$ sustenance! The mother of our 017:179;26[A ]| blessed Lord will$1$ hear them; us never, never afterward. 017:179;27[B ]| <\Leofric\> Here comes the bishop: we are but one mile from the walls. 017:179;28[B ]| Why dismountest thou? no$2$ bishop can expect it. Godiva! my honour 017:179;29[B ]| and rank among men are humbled by$4$ this: Earl*Godwin will$1$ hear 017:179;30[B ]| of it: up$5$! up$5$! the bishop hath seen it: he urgeth his horse onward: dost 017:179;31[B ]| thou not hear him now upon$4$ the solid turf behind thee? 017:179;32[A ]| <\Godiva\> Never, no$7$, never will$1$ I rise, O Leofric, until you remit this 017:179;33[A ]| most impious tax, this tax on$4$ hard labour, on$4$ hard life. 017:179;34[B ]| <\Leofric\> Turn round: look how the fat nag canters, as to$4$ the tune of 017:179;35[B ]| a sinner's psalm, slow and hard-breathing. What reason or right can 017:179;36[B ]| the people have to$9$ complain, while their bishop's steed is so$5#1$ sleek and 017:179;37[B ]| well caparisoned? Inclination to$9$ change, desire to$9$ abolish old usages 017:179;38[B ]| ~~ UP$5$! up$5$! for$4$ shame! They shall smart for$4$ it, idlers! Sir*bishop, I 017:179;39[B ]| must blush for$4$ my young bride. 017:179;40[A ]| <\Godiva\> My husband, my husband! will$1$ you pardon the city? 017:179;41[B ]| <\Leofric\> Sir*bishop! I could not think you would have seen her in$4$ 017:179;42[B ]| this plight. Will$1$ I pardon? yea, Godiva, by$4$ the holy rood, will$1$ I pardon 017:179;43[B ]| the city, when thou ridest naked at noontide through the streets. 017:180;01[A ]| <\Godiva\> Say, dearest Leofric, is there indeed no$2$ other hope, no$2$ other 017:180;02[A ]| mediation? 017:180;03[B ]| <\Leofric\> I have sworn: beside, thou hast made me redden and turn 017:180;04[B ]| my face away from thee, and all the knaves have seen it: this adds to$4$ 017:180;05[B ]| the city's crime. 017:180;06[A ]| <\Godiva\> I have blushed too, Leofric, and was not rash nor obdurate. 017:180;07[B ]| <\Leofric\> But thou, my sweetest, art given to$4$ blushing; there is no$2$ 017:180;08[B ]| conquering it in$4$ thee. I wish thou hadst not alighted so$5#1$ hastily and 017:180;09[B ]| roughly: it hath shaken down a sheaf of thy hair: take heed thou sit 017:180;10[B ]| not upon$4$ it, let it anguish thee. Well done! it mingleth now sweetly 017:180;11[B ]| with the cloth of gold upon$4$ the saddle, running here and there, as if 017:180;12[B ]| it had life and faculties and business, and were working thereupon 017:180;13[B ]| some newer and cunninger device. O my beauteous Eve! there is a 017:180;14[B ]| Paradise about thee! the world is refreshed as thou movest and breathest 017:180;15[B ]| on$4$ it. I can not see or think of evil where thou art. I could throw 017:180;16[B ]| my arms even here about thee. No$2$ signs for$4$ me! no$2$ shaking of sunbeams! 017:180;17[B ]| no$2$ reproof or frown or wonderment ~~ I \will$1$\ say it ~~ now 017:180;18[B ]| then for$4$ worse ~~ I could close with my kisses thy half-open lips, ay, 017:180;19[B ]| and those lovely and loving eyes, before the people. 017:180;20[A ]| <\Godiva\> To-morrow you shall kiss me, and they shall bless you for$4$ 017:180;21[A ]| it. I shall be very pale, for$3$ to-night I must fast and pray. 020:186;31[' ]| 020:186;32[C ]| <\Rhodope`\> Never shall I forget the morning when my father, sitting 020:186;33[C ]| in$4$ the coolest part of the house, exchanged his last measure of grain 020:186;34[C ]| for$4$ a chlamys of scarlet cloth fringed with silver. He watched the 020:186;35[C ]| merchant out of the door, and then looked wistfully into the corn-chest. 020:186;36[C ]| I, who$6#1$ thought there was something worth seeing, looked in$5$ 020:186;37[C ]| also, and, finding it empty, expressed my disappointment, not thinking 020:186;38[C ]| however about the corn. A faint and transient smile came over his 020:186;39[C ]| countenance at the sight of mine. He unfolded the chlamys, stretched 020:186;40[C ]| it out with both hands before me, and then cast it over my shoulders. 020:186;41[C ]| I looked down on$4$ the glittering fringe and screamed with joy. He then 020:186;42[C ]| went out; and I know not what flowers he gathered, but he gathered 020:186;43[C ]| many; and some he placed in$4$ my bosom, and some in$4$ my hair. But 020:187;01[C ]| I told him with captious pride, first that$3$ I could arrange them better, 020:187;02[C ]| and again that$3$ I would have only the white. However, when he had 020:187;03[C ]| selected all the white, and I had placed a few of them according to$4$ my 020:187;04[C ]| fancy. I told him (rising in$4$ my slipper) he might crown me with the 020:187;05[C ]| remainder. The splendour of my apparel gave me a sensation of authority. 020:187;06[C ]| Soon as the flowers had taken their station on$4$ my head, I 020:187;07[C ]| expressed a dignified satisfaction at the taste displayed by$4$ my father, 020:187;08[C ]| just as if I could have seen how they appeared! But he knew that$3$ there 020:187;09[C ]| was at least as much pleasure as pride in$4$ it, and perhaps we divided 020:187;10[C ]| the latter (alas! not both) pretty equally. He now took me into the 020:187;11[C ]| market-place, where a concourse of people was waiting for$4$ the purchase 020:187;12[C ]| of slaves. Merchants came and looked at me; some commending, others 020:187;13[C ]| disparaging; but all agreeing that$3$ I was slender and delicate, that$3$ I 020:187;14[C ]| could not live long, and that$3$ I should give much trouble. Many would 020:187;15[C ]| have bought the chlamys, but there was something less saleable in$4$ the 020:187;16[C ]| child and flowers. 020:187;17[D ]| <\Aesop\> Had thy features been coarse and thy voice rustic, they 020:187;18[D ]| would all have patted thy cheeks and found no$2$ fault in$4$ thee. 020:187;19[C ]| <\Rhodope`\> As it was, every*one had bought exactly such another in$4$ 020:187;20[C ]| time past, and been a loser by$4$ it. At these speeches I perceived the 020:187;21[C ]| flowers tremble slightly on$4$ my bosom, from my father's agitation. 020:187;22[C ]| Although he scoffed at them, knowing my healthiness, he was troubled 020:187;23[C ]| internally, and said many short prayers, not very unlike imprecations, 020:187;24[C ]| turning his head aside. Proud was I, prouder than ever, when at last 020:187;25[C ]| several talents were offered for$4$ me, and by$4$ the very man who$6#1$ in$4$ the 020:187;26[C ]| beginning had undervalued me the most, and prophesied the worst of 020:187;27[C ]| me. My father scowled at him, and refused the money. I thought he 020:187;28[C ]| was playing a game, and began to$9$ wonder what it could be, since I 020:187;29[C ]| never had seen it played before. Then I fancied it might be some 020:187;30[C ]| celebration because plenty had returned to$4$ the city, insomuch that$3$ my 020:187;31[C ]| father had bartered the last of the corn he hoarded. I grew more and 020:187;32[C ]| more delighted at the sport. But soon there advanced an elderly man, 020:187;33[C ]| who$6#1$ said gravely, "Thou hast stolen this child: her vesture alone is 020:187;34[C ]| worth above a hundred drachmas. Carry her home again to$4$ her parents. 020:187;35[C ]| and do it directly, or Nemesis and the Eumenides will$1$ overtake 020:187;36[C ]| thee." Knowing the estimation in$4$ which$6#1$ my father had always been 020:187;37[C ]| holden by$4$ his fellow-citizens, I laughed again, and pinched his ear. 020:187;38[C ]| He, although naturally choleric, burst forth into no$2$ resentment at these 020:187;39[C ]| reproaches, but said calmly, "I think I know thee by$4$ name, O guest! 020:187;40[C ]| Surely thou art Xanthus the Samian. Deliver this child from famine." 020:187;41[C ]| Again I laughed aloud and heartily; and, thinking it was now my 020:187;42[C ]| part of the game, I held out both my arms and protruded my whole 020:187;43[C ]| body toward the stranger. He would not receive me from my father's 020:187;44[C ]| neck, but he asked me with benignity and solicitude if I was hungry: 020:187;45[C ]| at which$6#1$ I laughed again, and more than ever: for$3$ it was early in$4$ the 020:187;46[C ]| morning, soon after the first meal, and my father had nourished me 020:187;47[C ]| most carefully and plentifully in$4$ all the days of the famine. But Xanthus, 020:188;01[C ]| thus, waiting for$4$ no$2$ answer, took out of a sack, which$6#1$ one of his slaves 020:188;02[C ]| carried at his side, a cake of wheaten bread and a piece of honey-comb, 020:188;03[C ]| and gave them to$4$ me. I held the honey-comb to$4$ my father's 020:188;04[C ]| mouth, thinking it the most of a dainty. He dashed it to$4$ the ground; 020:188;05[C ]| but, seizing the bread, he began to$9$ devour it ferociously. This also I 020:188;06[C ]| thought was in$4$ play; and I clapped my hands at his distortions. But 020:188;07[C ]| Xanthus looked on$4$ him like$4$ one afraid, and smote the cake from him, 020:188;08[C ]| crying aloud, "Name the price." My father now placed me in$4$ his arms, 020:188;09[C ]| naming a price much below what the other had offered, saying, "The 020:188;10[C ]| Gods are ever with thee, O Xanthus! therefor to$4$ thee do I consign my 020:188;11[C ]| child." But while Xanthus was counting out the silver, my father 020:188;12[C ]| seized the cake again, which$6#1$ the slave had taken up$5$ and was about to$9$ 020:188;13[C ]| replace in$4$ the wallet. His hunger was exasperated by$4$ the taste and the 020:188;14[C ]| delay. Suddenly there arose much tumult. Turning round in$4$ the old 020:188;15[C ]| woman's bosom who$6#1$ had received me from Xanthus, I saw my beloved 020:188;16[C ]| father struggling on$4$ the ground, livid and speechless. The more violent 020:188;17[C ]| my cries, the more rapidly they hurried me away; and many were soon 020:188;18[C ]| between us. Little was I suspicious that$3$ he had suffered the pangs of 020:188;19[C ]| famine long before: alas! and he had suffered them for$4$ me. Do I weep 020:188;20[C ]| while I am telling you they ended? I could not have closed his eyes; 020:188;21[C ]| I was too young: but I might have received his last breath; the only 020:188;22[C ]| comfort of an orphan's bosom. Do you now think him blamable, O 020:188;23[C ]| Aesop? 501:339;00@@@@@| 501:339;00[' ]| 501:339;00[' ]| <1800-1859> 501:339;00[' ]| 501:339;01[' ]| The death of King*Charles*the*Second took the nation 501:339;02[' ]| by$4$ surprise. His frame was naturally strong, and did 501:339;03[' ]| not appear to$9$ have suffered from excess. He had 501:339;04[' ]| always been mindful of his health even in$4$ his pleasures; 501:339;05[' ]| and his habits were such as promise a long life and a 501:339;06[' ]| robust old age. Indolent as he was on$4$ all occasions 501:339;07[' ]| which$6#1$ required tension of the mind, he was active and 501:339;08[' ]| persevering in$4$ bodily exercise. He had, when young, 501:339;09[' ]| been renowned as a tennis player, and was, even in$4$ the 501:339;10[' ]| decline of life, an indefatigable walker. His ordinary 501:339;11[' ]| pace was such that$3$ those who$6#1$ were admitted to$4$ the 501:339;12[' ]| honour of his society found it difficult to$9$ keep up$5$ with 501:339;13[' ]| him. He rose early, and generally passed three or 501:339;14[' ]| four hours a day in$4$ the open air. He might be seen, 501:339;15[' ]| before the dew was off the grass in$4$ Saint*James's*Park, 501:339;16[' ]| striding among the trees, playing with his spaniels, and 501:339;17[' ]| flinging corn to$4$ his ducks; and these exhibitions 501:340;01[' ]| endeared him to$4$ the common people, who$6#1$ always love 501:340;02[' ]| to$9$ see the great unbend. 501:340;03[' ]| At length, towards the close of the year 1684, he 501:340;04[' ]| was prevented, by$4$ a slight atack of what was supposed 501:340;05[' ]| to$9$ be gout, from rambling as usual. He now spent his 501:340;06[' ]| mornings in$4$ his laboratory, where he amused himself 501:340;07[' ]| with experiments on$4$ the properties of mercury. His 501:340;08[' ]| temper seemed to$9$ have suffered from confinement. He 501:340;09[' ]| had no$2$ apparent cause for$4$ disquiet. His kingdom was 501:340;10[' ]| tranquil; he was not in$4$ pressing want of money; his 501:340;11[' ]| power was greater than it had ever been; the party 501:340;12[' ]| which$6#1$ had long thwarted him had been beaten down; 501:340;13[' ]| but the cheerfulness which$6#1$ had supported him against 501:340;14[' ]| adverse fortune had vanished in$4$ this season of prosperity. 501:340;15[' ]| A trifle now sufficed to$9$ depress those elastic spirits 501:340;16[' ]| which$6#1$ had borne up$5$ against defeat, exile, and penury. 501:340;17[' ]| His irriration frequently showed itself by$4$ looks and 501:340;18[' ]| words such as could hardly have been expected from a 501:340;19[' ]| man so$5#1$ eminently distinguished by$4$ good humour and 501:340;20[' ]| good breeding. It was not supposed, however, that$3$ 501:340;21[' ]| his constitution was seriously impaired. 501:340;22[' ]| His palace had seldom presented a gayer or a more 501:340;23[' ]| scandalous appearance than on$4$ the evening of Sunday 501:340;24[' ]| the first of February 1685. Some grave persons who$6#1$ 501:340;25[' ]| had gone thither, after the fashion of that$6#2$ age, to$9$ pay 501:340;26[' ]| their duty to$4$ their sovereign, and who$6#1$ had expected 501:340;27[' ]| that$3$, on$4$ such a day, his court would wear a decent 501:340;28[' ]| aspect, were struck with astonishment and horror. The 501:340;29[' ]| great gallery of Whitehall, an admirable relic of the 501:340;30[' ]| magnificence of the Tudors, was crowded with revellers 501:340;31[' ]| and gamblers. The King sate there chatting and 501:340;32[' ]| toying with three women, whose charms were the boast, 501:340;33[' ]| and whose vices were the disgrace, of three nations. 501:340;34[' ]| Barbara*Palmer, Duchess*of*Cleveland, was there, no$2$ 501:340;35[' ]| longer young, but still retaining some traces of that$6#2$ 501:340;36[' ]| superb and voluptuous loveliness which$6#1$ twenty years 501:340;37[' ]| before overcame the hearts of all men. There too was 501:340;38[' ]| the Duchess*of*Portsmouth, whose soft and infantine 501:340;39[' ]| features were lighted up$5$ with the vivacity of France. 501:340;40[' ]| Hortensia*Mancini, Duchess*of*Mazarin, and niece of the 501:341;01[' ]| great Cardinal, completed the group. She had been early 501:341;02[' ]| removed from her native Italy to$4$ the court where her 501:341;03[' ]| uncle was supreme. His power and her own attractions 501:341;04[' ]| had drawn a crowd of illustrious suitors round her. 501:341;05[' ]| Charles himself, during his exile, had sought her hand 501:341;06[' ]| in$4$ vain. No$2$ gift of nature or of fortune seemed to$9$ be 501:341;07[' ]| wanting to$4$ her. Her face was beautiful with the rich 501:341;08[' ]| beauty of the South, her understanding quick, her 501:341;09[' ]| manners graceful, her rank exalted, her possessions 501:341;10[' ]| immense; but her ungovernable passions had turned 501:341;11[' ]| all these blessings into curses. She had found the 501:341;12[' ]| misery of an ill assorted marriage intolerable, had fled 501:341;13[' ]| from her husband, had abandoned her vast wealth, and, 501:341;14[' ]| after having astonished Rome and Piedmont by$4$ her 501:341;15[' ]| adventures, had fixed her abode in$4$ England. Her 501:341;16[' ]| house was the favourite resort of men of wit and 501:341;17[' ]| pleasure, who$6#1$, for$4$ the sake of her smiles and her 501:341;18[' ]| table, endured her frequent fits of insolence and ill 501:341;19[' ]| humour. Rochester and Godolphin sometimes forgot 501:341;20[' ]| the cares of state in$4$ her company. Barillon and Saint*Evremond 501:341;21[' ]| found in$4$ her drawing*room consolation for$4$ 501:341;22[' ]| their long banishment from Paris. The learning of 501:341;23[' ]| Vossius, the wit of Waller, were daily employed to$9$ 501:341;24[' ]| flatter and amuse her. But her diseased mind required 501:341;25[' ]| stronger stimulants, and sought them in$4$ gallantry, in$4$ 501:341;26[' ]| basset, and in$4$ usquebaugh. While Charles flirted with 501:341;27[' ]| his three sultanas, Hortensia's French page, a handsome 501:341;28[' ]| boy, whose vocal performances were the delight of 501:341;29[' ]| Whitehall, and were rewarded by$4$ numerous presents 501:341;30[' ]| of rich clothes, ponies, and guineas, warbled some 501:341;31[' ]| amorous verses. A party of twenty courtiers was 501:341;32[' ]| seated at cards round a large table on$4$ which$6#1$ gold was 501:341;33[' ]| heaped in$4$ mountains. Even then the King had complained 501:341;34[' ]| that$3$ he did not feel quite well. He had no$2$ 501:341;35[' ]| appetite for$4$ his supper; his rest that$6#2$ night was broken; 501:341;36[' ]| but on$4$ the following morning he rose, as usual, early. 501:341;37[' ]| To$4$ that$6#2$ morning the contending factions in$4$ his 501:341;38[' ]| council had, during some days, looked forward with 501:341;39[' ]| anxiety. The struggle between Halifax and Rochester 501:341;40[' ]| seemed to$9$ be approaching a decisive crisis. Halifax, 501:342;01[' ]| not content with having already driven his rival from 501:342;02[' ]| the Board*of*Treasury, had undertaken to$9$ prove him 501:342;03[' ]| guilty of such dishonesty or neglect in$4$ the conduct of 501:342;04[' ]| the finances as ought to$9$ be punished by$4$ dismission from 501:342;05[' ]| the public service. It was even whispered that$3$ the 501:342;06[' ]| Lord*President would probably be sent to$4$ the Tower. 501:342;07[' ]| The King had promised to$9$ enquire into the matter. 501:342;08[' ]| The second of February had been fixed for$4$ the investigation; 501:342;09[' ]| and several officers of the revenue had 501:342;10[' ]| been ordered to$9$ attend to$4$ their books on$4$ that$6#2$ day. 501:342;11[' ]| But a great turn of fortune was at hand. 501:342;12[' ]| Scarcely had Charles risen from his bed when his 501:342;13[' ]| attendants perceived that$3$ his utterance was indistinct, 501:342;14[' ]| and that$3$ his thoughts seemed to$9$ be wandering. Several 501:342;15[' ]| men of rank had, as usual, assembled to$9$ see their 501:342;16[' ]| sovereign shaved and dressed. He made an effort to$9$ 501:342;17[' ]| converse with them in$4$ his usual gay style; but his 501:342;18[' ]| ghastly look surprised and alarmed them. Soon his 501:342;19[' ]| face grew black; his eyes turned in$4$ his head; he 501:342;20[' ]| uttered, a cry, staggered, and fell into the arms of one 501:342;21[' ]| of his lords. A physician who$6#1$ had charge of the royal 501:342;22[' ]| retorts and crucibles happened to$9$ be present. He had 501:342;23[' ]| no$2$ lancet; but he opened a vein with a penknife. The 501:342;24[' ]| blood flowed freely; but the King was still insensible. 501:342;25[' ]| He was laid on$4$ his bed, where, during a short time, 501:342;26[' ]| the Duchess*of*Portsmouth, hung over him with the 501:342;27[' ]| familiarity of a wife. But the alarm had been given. 501:342;28[' ]| The Queen and the Duchess*of*York were hastening 501:342;29[' ]| to$4$ the room. The favourite concubine was forced to$9$ 501:342;30[' ]| retire to$4$ her own apartments. Those apartments had 501:342;31[' ]| been thrice pulled down and thrice rebuilt by$4$ her lover 501:342;32[' ]| to$9$ gratify her caprice. The very furniture of the 501:342;33[' ]| chimney was massive silver. Several fine paintings, 501:342;34[' ]| which$6#1$ properly belonged to$4$ the Queen, had been transferred 501:342;35[' ]| to$4$ the dwelling of the mistress. The side-boards 501:342;36[' ]| were piled with richly wrought plate. In$4$ the 501:342;37[' ]| niches stood cabinets, the masterpieces of Japanese art. 501:342;38[' ]| On$4$ the hangings, fresh from the looms of Paris, were 501:342;39[' ]| depicted, in$4$ tints which$6#1$ no$2$ English tapestry could 501:342;40[' ]| rival, birds of gorgeous plumage, landscapes, hunting 501:343;01[' ]| matches, the lordly terrace of Saint*Germains, the 501:343;02[' ]| statues and fountains of Versailles. In$4$ the midst of 501:343;03[' ]| this splendour, purchased by$4$ guilt and shame, the 501:343;04[' ]| unhappy woman gave herself up$5$ to$4$ an agony of grief, 501:343;05[' ]| which$6#1$, to$9$ do her justice, was not wholly selfish. 501:343;06[' ]| And now the gates of Whitehall, which$6#1$ ordinarily 501:343;07[' ]| stood open to$4$ all comers, were closed. But persons 501:343;08[' ]| whose faces were known were still permitted to$9$ enter. 501:343;09[' ]| The antechambers and galleries were soon filled to$4$ 501:343;10[' ]| overflowing; and even the sick*room was crowded with 501:343;11[' ]| peers, privy councillors, and foreign ministers. All 501:343;12[' ]| the medical men of note in$4$ London were summoned. 501:343;13[' ]| So$5#1$ high did political animosities run that$3$ the presence 501:343;14[' ]| of some Whig physicians was regarded as an extraordinary 501:343;15[' ]| circumstance. One Roman*Catholic whose 501:343;16[' ]| skill was then widely renowned, Doctor*Thomas*Short, 501:343;17[' ]| was in$4$ attendance. Several of the prescriptions have 501:343;18[' ]| been preserved. One of them is signed by$4$ fourteen 501:343;19[' ]| Doctors. The patient was bled largely. Hot iron 501:343;20[' ]| was applied to$4$ his head. A loathsome volatile salt, 501:343;21[' ]| extracted from human skulls, was forced into his mouth. 501:343;22[' ]| He recovered his senses; but he was evidently in$4$ a 501:343;23[' ]| situation of extreme danger. 501:343;24[' ]| The Queen was for$4$ a time assiduous in$4$ her attendance. 501:343;25[' ]| The Duke*of*York scarcely left his brother's 501:343;26[' ]| bedside. The Primate and four other Bishops were 501:343;27[' ]| then in$4$ London. They remained at Whitehall all day, 501:343;28[' ]| and took it by$4$ turns to$9$ sit up$5$ at night in$4$ the King's 501:343;29[' ]| room. The news of his illness filled the capital with 501:343;30[' ]| sorrow and dismay. For$3$ his easy temper and affable 501:343;31[' ]| manners had won the affection of a large part of the 501:343;32[' ]| nation; and those who$6#1$ most disliked him preferred his 501:343;33[' ]| unprinciple levity to$4$ the stern and earnest bigotry of 501:343;34[' ]| his brother. 501:343;35[' ]| On$4$ the morning of Thursday the fifth of February, 501:343;36[' ]| the London*Gazette announced that$3$ His*Majesty was 501:343;37[' ]| going on$5$ well, and was thought by$4$ the physicians to$9$ 501:343;38[' ]| be out of danger. The bells of all the churches rang 501:343;39[' ]| merrily; and preparations for$4$ bonfires were made in$4$ 501:343;40[' ]| the streets. But in$4$ the evening it was known that$3$ a 501:344;01[' ]| relapse had taken place, and that$3$ the medical attendants 501:344;02[' ]| had given up$5$ all hope. The public mind was greatly 501:344;03[' ]| disturbed; but there was no$2$ disposition to$4$ tumult. 501:344;04[' ]| The Duke*of*York, who$6#1$ had already taken on$4$ himself 501:344;05[' ]| to$9$ give orders, ascertained that$3$ the City was perfectly 501:344;06[' ]| quiet, and that$3$ he might without difficulty be proclaimed 501:344;07[' ]| as soon as his brother should expire. 501:344;08[' ]| The King was in$4$ great pain, and complained that$3$ he 501:344;09[' ]| felt as if a fire was burning within him. Yet he bore 501:344;10[' ]| up$5$ against his sufferings with a fortitude which$6#1$ did not 501:344;11[' ]| seem to$9$ belong to$4$ his soft and luxurious nature. The 501:344;12[' ]| sight of his misery affected his wife so$5#1$ much that$3$ such 501:344;13[' ]| fainted, and was carried senseless to$4$ her chamber. The 501:344;14[' ]| Prelates who$6#1$ were in$4$ waiting had from the first exhorted 501:344;15[' ]| him to$9$ prepare for$4$ his end. They now thought it their 501:344;16[' ]| duty to$9$ address him in$4$ a still more urgent manner. 501:344;17[' ]| William*Sancroft, Archbishop*of*Canterbury, an honest 501:344;18[' ]| and pious, though narrow-minded, man, used great 501:344;19[' ]| freedom. 501:344;19[W ]| ""It is time,"" 501:344;19[' ]| he said, 501:344;19[W ]| ""to$9$ speak out; for$3$, Sir, 501:344;20[W ]| you are about to$9$ appear before a Judge who$6#1$ is no$2$ 501:344;21[W ]| respecter of persons."" 501:344;21[' ]| The King answered not a word. 501:344;22[' ]| Thomas*Ken, Bishop*of*Bath*and*Wells, then tried 501:344;23[' ]| his powers of persuasion. He was a man of parts and 501:344;24[' ]| learning, of quick sensibility and stainless virtue. His 501:344;25[' ]| elaborate works have long been forgotten; but his 501:344;26[' ]| morning and evening hymns are still repeated daily in$4$ 501:344;27[' ]| thousands of dwellings. Though, like$4$ most of his order, 501:344;28[' ]| zealous for$4$ monarchy, he was no$2$ sycophant. Before he 501:344;29[' ]| became a Bishop, he had maintained the honour of his 501:344;30[' ]| gown by$4$ refusing, when the court was at Winchester, 501:344;31[' ]| to$9$ let Eleanor*Gwynn lodge in$4$ the house which$6#1$ he 501:344;32[' ]| occupied there as a prebendary. The King had sense 501:344;33[' ]| enough to$9$ respect so$5#1$ manly a spirit. Of all the prelates 501:344;34[' ]| he liked Ken the best. It was to$4$ no$2$ purpose, however, 501:344;35[' ]| that$3$ the good Bishop now put forth all his eloquence. 501:344;36[' ]| His solemn and pathetic exhortation awed and melted 501:344;37[' ]| the bystanders to$4$ such a degree that$3$ some among them 501:344;38[' ]| believed him to$9$ be filled with the same spirit which$6#1$, in$4$ 501:344;39[' ]| the old time, had, by$4$ the mouths of Nathan and Elias, 501:344;40[' ]| called sinful princes to$4$ repentance. Charles, however, 501:345;01[' ]| was unmoved. He made no$2$ objection indeed when the 501:345;02[' ]| service for$4$ the Visitation*of*the*Sick was read. In$4$ 501:345;03[' ]| reply to$4$ the pressing questions of the divines, he said 501:345;04[' ]| that$3$ he was sorry for$4$ what he had done amiss; and he 501:345;05[' ]| suffered the absolution to$9$ be pronounced over him 501:345;06[' ]| according to$4$ the forms of the Church*of*England: but, 501:345;07[' ]| when he was urged to$9$ declare that$3$ he died in$4$ the Communion 501:345;08[' ]| of that$6#2$ Church, he seemed not to$9$ hear what 501:345;09[' ]| was said; and nothing could induce him to$9$ take the 501:345;10[' ]| Eucharist from the hands of the Bishops. A table with 501:345;11[' ]| bread and wine was brought to$4$ his bedside, but in$4$ vain. 501:345;12[' ]| Sometimes he said that$3$ there was no$2$ hurry, and sometimes 501:345;13[' ]| that$3$ he was too weak. 501:345;14[' ]| Many attributed this apathy to$4$ contempt for$4$ divine 501:345;15[' ]| things, and many to$4$ the stupor which$6#1$ often precedes 501:345;16[' ]| death. But there were in$4$ the palace a few persons 501:345;17[' ]| who$6#1$ knew better. Charles had never been a sincere 501:345;18[' ]| member of the Established*Church. His mind had 501:345;19[' ]| long oscillated between Hobbism and Popery. When 501:345;20[' ]| his health was good and his spirit high, he was a 501:345;21[' ]| scoffer. In$4$ his few serious moments he was a Roman*Catholic. 501:345;22[' ]| The Duke*of*York was aware of this, but was 501:345;23[' ]| entirely occupied with the care of his own interests. 501:345;24[' ]| He had ordered the outports to$9$ be closed. He had 501:345;25[' ]| posted detachments of the Guards in$4$ different parts of 501:345;26[' ]| the City. He had also procured the feeble signature 501:345;27[' ]| of the dying King to$4$ an instrument by$4$ which$6#1$ some 501:345;28[' ]| duties, granted only till the demise of the Crown, were 501:345;29[' ]| let to$4$ farm for$4$ a term of three years. These things 501:345;30[' ]| occupied the attention of James to$4$ such a degree that$3$, 501:345;31[' ]| though, on$4$ ordinary occasions, he was indiscreetly and 501:345;32[' ]| unseasonably eager to$9$ bring over proselytes to$4$ his 501:345;33[' ]| Church, he never reflected that$3$ his brother was in$4$ 501:345;34[' ]| danger of dying without the last sacraments. This 501:345;35[' ]| neglect was the more extraordinary because the Duchess*of*York 501:345;36[' ]| had, at the request of the Queen, suggested, 501:345;37[' ]| on$4$ the morning on$4$ which$6#1$ the King was taken ill, the 501:345;38[' ]| propriety of procuring spiritual assistance. For$4$ such 501:345;39[' ]| assistance Charles was at last indebted to$4$ an agency 501:345;40[' ]| very different from that$6#2$ of his pious wife and sister-in-law. 501:346;01[' ]| A life of frivolity and vice had not extinguished in$4$ 501:346;02[' ]| the Duchess*of*Portsmouth all sentiments of religion, 501:346;03[' ]| or all the kindness which$6#1$ is the glory of her sex. 501:346;04[' ]| The French ambassador Barillon, who$6#1$ had come to$4$ 501:346;05[' ]| the palace to$9$ inquire after the King, paid her a visit. 501:346;06[' ]| He found her in$4$ an agony of sorrow. She took him 501:346;07[' ]| into a secret room and poured out her whole heart to$4$ 501:346;08[' ]| him. 501:346;08[V ]| ""I have,"" 501:346;08[' ]| she said, 501:346;08[V ]| ""a thing of great moment to$9$ tell 501:346;09[V ]| you. If it were known, my heard would be in$4$ danger. 501:346;10[V ]| The King is really and truly a Catholic; but he will$1$ 501:346;11[V ]| die without being reconciled to$4$ the Church. His bed-chamber 501:346;12[V ]| is full of Protestant clergymen. I cannot 501:346;13[V ]| enter it without giving scandal. The Duke is thinking 501:346;14[V ]| only of himself. Speak to$4$ him. Remind him that$3$ there 501:346;15[V ]| is a soul at stake. He is master now. He can clear 501:346;16[V ]| the room. Go this instant, or it will$1$ be too late."" 501:346;17[' ]| Barillon hastened to$4$ the bedchamber, took the Duke 501:346;18[' ]| aside, and delivered the message of the mistress. The 501:346;19[' ]| conscience of James smote him. He started as if 501:346;20[' ]| roused from sleep, and declared that$3$ nothing should 501:346;21[' ]| prevent him from discharging the sacred duty which$6#1$ 501:346;22[' ]| had been too long delayed. Several schemes were 501:346;23[' ]| discussed and rejected. At last the Duke commanded 501:346;24[' ]| the crowd to$9$ stand aloof, went to$4$ the bed, stooped 501:346;25[' ]| down, and whispered something which$6#1$ none of the 501:346;26[' ]| spectators could hear, but which$6#1$ they supposed to$9$ be 501:346;27[' ]| some question about affairs of state. Charles answered 501:346;28[' ]| in$4$ an audible voice, 501:346;28[W ]| ""Yes, yes, with all my heart."" 501:346;29[' ]| None of the bystanders, except the French*Ambassador, 501:346;30[' ]| guessed that$3$ the King was declaring his wish to$9$ be 501:346;31[' ]| admitted into the bosom of the Church*of*Rome. 501:346;32[W ]| ""Shall I bring a priest?"" 501:346;32[' ]| said the Duke. 501:346;32[W ]| ""Do, 501:346;33[W ]| brother,"" 501:346;33[' ]| replied the sick man. 501:346;33[W ]| ""For$4$ God's sake do, 501:346;34[W ]| and lose no$2$ time. But no$7$; you will$1$ get into trouble."" 501:346;35[W ]| ""If it costs me my life,"" 501:346;35[' ]| said the Duke, 501:346;35[W ]| ""I will$1$ fetch a 501:346;36[W ]| priest."" 501:346;37[' ]| To$9$ find a priest, however, for$4$ such a purpose, at a 501:346;38[' ]| moment's notice, was not easy. For$3$, as the law then 501:346;39[' ]| stood, the person who$6#1$ admitted a proselyte into the 501:346;40[' ]| Roman*Catholic*Church was guilty of a capital crime. 501:347;01[' ]| The Count*of*Castel*Melhor, a Portuguese nobleman, 501:347;02[' ]| who$6#1$, driven by$4$ political troubles from his native land, 501:347;03[' ]| had been hospitably received at the English court, 501:347;04[' ]| undertook to$9$ procure a confessor. He had recourse to$4$ 501:347;05[' ]| his countrymen who$6#1$ belonged to$4$ the Queen's household; 501:347;06[' ]| but he found that$3$ none of her chaplains knew Engligh 501:347;07[' ]| or French enough to$9$ shrive the King. The Duke and 501:347;08[' ]| Barillon were about to$9$ send to$4$ the Venetian minister 501:347;09[' ]| for$4$ a clergyman, when they heard that$3$ a Benedictine 501:347;10[' ]| monk, named John*Huddleston, happened to$9$ be at 501:347;11[' ]| Whitehall. This man had, with great risk to$4$ himself, 501:347;12[' ]| saved the King's life after the battle of Worcester, and 501:347;13[' ]| had, on$4$ that$6#2$ account, been, even since the Restoration, 501:347;14[' ]| a privileged person. In$4$ the sharpest proclamations 501:347;15[' ]| which$6#1$ had been put forth against Popish priests, when 501:347;16[' ]| false witnesses had inflamed the nation to$4$ fury, 501:347;17[' ]| Huddleston had been excepted by$4$ name. He readily 501:347;18[' ]| consented to$9$ put his life a second time in$4$ peril for$4$ his 501:347;19[' ]| prince; but there was still a difficulty. The honest 501:347;20[' ]| monk was so$5#1$ illiterate that$3$ he did not know what he 501:347;21[' ]| ought to$9$ say on$4$ an occasion of such importance. He 501:347;22[' ]| however obtained some hints, through the intervention 501:347;23[' ]| of Castel*Melhor, from a Portuguese ecclesiastic, and, 501:347;24[' ]| thus intructed, was brought up$4$ the back*stairs by$4$ 501:347;25[' ]| Chiffinch, a confidential servant, who$6#1$, if the satires of 501:347;26[' ]| that$6#2$ age are to$9$ be credited, had often introduced 501:347;27[' ]| visitors of a very different description by$4$ the same 501:347;28[' ]| entrance. The Duke then, in$4$ the King's name, commanded 501:347;29[' ]| all who$6#1$ were present to$9$ quit the room, except 501:347;30[' ]| Lewis*Duras, Earl*of*Feversham, and John*Granville, 501:347;31[' ]| Earle*of*Bath. Both these Lords professed the Protestant*Religion; 501:347;32[' ]| but James conceived that$3$ he could 501:347;33[' ]| count on$4$ their fidelity. Feversham, a Frenchman of 501:347;34[' ]| noble birth, and nephew of the great Turenne, held 501:347;35[' ]| high rank in$4$ the English army, and was chamberlain 501:347;36[' ]| to$4$ the Queen. Bath was Groom of the Stole. 501:347;37[' ]| The Duke's orders were obeyed; and even the 501:347;38[' ]| physicians withdrew. The back door was then opened; 501:347;39[' ]| and Father*Huddleston entered. A cloak had been 501:347;40[' ]| thrown over his sacred vestments; and his shaven 501:348;01[' ]| crown was concealed by$4$ a flowing wig. 501:348;01[W ]| ""Sir,"" 501:348;01[' ]| said the 501:348;02[' ]| Duke, 501:348;02[W ]| ""this good man once saved your life. He now 501:348;03[W ]| comes to$9$ save your soul."" 501:348;03[' ]| Charles faintly answered, 501:348;04[W ]| ""He is welcome."" 501:348;04[' ]| Huddleston went through his part 501:348;05[' ]| better than had been expected. He knelt by$4$ the bed, 501:348;06[' ]| listened to$4$ the confession, pronounced the absolution, 501:348;07[' ]| and administered extreme*unction. He asked if the 501:348;08[' ]| King wished to$9$ receive the Lord's supper. 501:348;08[W ]| ""Surely,"" 501:348;09[' ]| said Charles, 501:348;09[W ]| ""if I am not unworthy."" 501:348;09[' ]| The host was 501:348;10[' ]| brought in$5$. Charles feebly strove to$9$ rise and kneel 501:348;11[' ]| before it. The priest bade him lie still, and assured 501:348;12[' ]| him that$3$ God would accept the humiliation of the soul, 501:348;13[' ]| and would not require the humiliation of the body. 501:348;14[' ]| The King found so$5#1$ much difficulty in$4$ swallowing the 501:348;15[' ]| bread that$3$ it was necessary to$9$ open the door and procure 501:348;16[' ]| a glass of water. This rite ended, the monk held 501:348;17[' ]| up$5$ a crucifix before the penitent, charged him to$9$ fix 501:348;18[' ]| his last thoughts on$4$ the sufferings of the Redeemer, 501:348;19[' ]| and withdrew. The whole ceremony had occupied 501:348;20[' ]| about three quarters of an hour; and, during that$6#2$ 501:348;21[' ]| time, the courtiers who$6#1$ filled the outer room had communicated 501:348;22[' ]| their suspicions to$4$ each other by$4$ whispers 501:348;23[' ]| and significant glances. The door was at length thrown 501:348;24[' ]| open, and the crowd again filled the chamber of 501:348;25[' ]| death. 501:348;26[' ]| It was now late in$4$ the evening. The King seemed 501:348;27[' ]| much relieved by$4$ what had passed. His natural children 501:348;28[' ]| were brought to$4$ his bedside, the Dukes*of*Grafton, 501:348;29[' ]| Southampton, and Northumberland, sons of the Duchess*of*Cleveland, 501:348;30[' ]| the Duke*of*Saint*Albans, son of Eleanor*Gwynn, 501:348;31[' ]| and the Duke*of*Richmond, son of the Duchess*of*Portsmouth. 501:348;32[' ]| Charles blessed them all, but spoke 501:348;33[' ]| with peculiar tenderness to$4$ Richmond. One face which$6#1$ 501:348;34[' ]| should have been there was wanting. The eldest and 501:348;35[' ]| best beloved child was an exile and a wanderer. His 501:348;36[' ]| name was not once mentioned by$4$ his father. 501:348;37[' ]| During the night Charles earnestly recommended the 501:348;38[' ]| Duchess*of*Portsmouth and her boy to$4$ the care of 501:348;39[' ]| James; 501:348;39[W ]| ""And do not,"" 501:348;39[' ]| he good-naturedly added, 501:348;39[W ]| ""let 501:348;40[W ]| poor Nelly starve."" 501:348;40[' ]| The Queen sent excuses for$4$ her 501:349;01[' ]| absence by$4$ Halifax. She said that$3$ she was too much 501:349;02[' ]| disordered to$9$ resume her post by$4$ the couch, and implored 501:349;03[' ]| pardon for$4$ any offence which$6#1$ she might unwittingly 501:349;04[' ]| have given. 501:349;04[W ]| ""She ask my pardon, poor woman!"" 501:349;05[' ]| cried Charles; 501:349;05[W ]| ""I ask hers with all my heart."" 501:349;06[' ]| The morning light began to$9$ peep through the windows 501:349;07[' ]| of Whitehall, and Charles desired the attendants to$9$ 501:349;08[' ]| pull aside the curtains, that$3$ he might have one more 501:349;09[' ]| look at the day. He remarked that$3$ it was time to$9$ wind 501:349;10[' ]| up$5$ a clock which$6#1$ stood near his bed. These little 501:349;11[' ]| circumstances were long remembered, because they 501:349;12[' ]| proved beyond dispute that$3$, when he declared himself 501:349;13[' ]| a Roman*Catholic, he was in$4$ full possession of his 501:349;14[' ]| faculties. He apologised to$4$ those who$6#1$ stood round him 501:349;15[' ]| all night for$4$ the trouble which$6#1$ he had caused. He had 501:349;16[' ]| been, he said, a most unconscionable time dying; but 501:349;17[' ]| he hoped that$3$ they would excuse it. This was the last 501:349;18[' ]| glimpse of that$6#2$ exquisite urbanity, so$5#1$ often found potent 501:349;19[' ]| to$9$ charm away the resentment of a justly incensed 501:349;20[' ]| nation. Soon after dawn the speech of the dying man 501:349;21[' ]| failed. Before ten his senses were gone. Great numbers 501:349;22[' ]| had repaired to$4$ the churches at the hour of morning 501:349;23[' ]| service. When the prayer for$4$ the King was read, loud 501:349;24[' ]| groans and sobs showed how deeply his people felt for$4$ 501:349;25[' ]| him. At noon on$4$ Friday, the sixth of February, he 501:349;26[' ]| passed away without a struggle. ~~ <\History*of*England\.> 201:371;00@@@@@| 201:371;19[' ]| The place was worthy of such a trial. It was the great 201:371;20[' ]| hall of William*Rufus, the hall which$6#1$ had resounded with 201:371;21[' ]| acclamations at the inauguration of thirty kings, the hall which$6#1$ 201:371;22[' ]| had witnessed the just sentence of Bacon and the just 201:371;23[' ]| absolution of Somers, the hall where the eloquence of Strafford 201:371;24[' ]| had for$4$ a moment awed and melted a victorious party inflamed 201:371;25[' ]| with just resentment, the hall where Charles had confronted 201:371;26[' ]| the High*Court*of*Justice with the placid courage which$6#1$ has 201:371;27[' ]| half redeemed his fame. Neither military nor civil pomp was 201:371;28[' ]| wanting. The avenues were lined with grenadiers. The streets 201:371;29[' ]| were kept clear by$4$ cavalry. The peers, robed in$4$ gold and ermine, 201:371;30[' ]| were marshalled by$4$ the heralds under the Garter-King-at-arms. The 201:371;31[' ]| judges in$4$ their vestments of state attended to$9$ give advice on$4$ points 201:371;32[' ]| of law. Near a hundred and seventy lords, three-fourths of the 201:371;33[' ]| Upper*House as the Upper*House then was, walked in$4$ solemn order 201:371;34[' ]| from their usual place of assembling to$4$ the tribunal. The junior 201:371;35[' ]| baron present led the way, George*Eliot, Lord*Heathfield, recently 201:371;36[' ]| ennobled for$4$ his memorable defence of Gibraltar against the fleets 201:371;37[' ]| and armies of France and Spain. The long procession was closed 201:371;38[' ]| by$4$ the Duke*of*Norfolk, Earl-Marshal of the realm, by$4$ the great 201:372;01[' ]| dignitaries, and by$4$ the brothers and sons of the King. Last of all 201:372;02[' ]| came the Prince*of*Wales, conspicuous by$4$ his fine person and noble 201:372;03[' ]| bearing. The gray old walls were hung with scarlet. The long 201:372;04[' ]| galleries were crowded by$4$ an audience such as has rarely excited 201:372;05[' ]| the fears or the emulation of an orator. There were gathered 201:372;06[' ]| together, from all parts of a great, free, enlightened, and prosperous 201:372;07[' ]| empire, grace and female loveliness, wit and learning, the representatives 201:372;08[' ]| of every science and of every art. There were seated 201:372;09[' ]| round the Queen the fair-haired young daughters of the house of 201:372;10[' ]| Brunswick. There the Ambassadors of great Kings and Commonwealths 201:372;11[' ]| gazed with admiration on$4$ a spectacle which$6#1$ no$2$ other country 201:372;12[' ]| in$4$ the world could present. There Siddons, in$4$ the prime of her 201:372;13[' ]| majestic beauty, looked with emotion on$4$ a scene surpassing all the 201:372;14[' ]| imitations of the stage. There the historian of the Roman*Empire 201:372;15[' ]| thought of the days when Cicero pleaded the cause of Sicily against 201:372;16[' ]| Verres, and when, before a senate which$6#1$ still retained some show of 201:372;17[' ]| freedom, Tacitus thundered against the oppressor of Africa. There 201:372;18[' ]| were seen, side by$4$ side, the greatest painter and the greatest scholar 201:372;19[' ]| of the age. The spectacle had allured Reynolds from that$6#2$ easel 201:372;20[' ]| which$6#1$ has preserved to$4$ us the thoughtful foreheads of so$5#1$ many 201:372;21[' ]| writers and statesmen, and the sweet smiles of so$5#1$ many noble 201:372;22[' ]| matrons. It had induced Parr to$9$ suspend his labours in$4$ that$6#2$ dark 201:372;23[' ]| and profound mine from which$6#1$ he had extracted a vast treasure of 201:372;24[' ]| erudition, a treasure too often buried in$4$ the earth, too often paraded 201:372;25[' ]| with injudicious and inelegant ostentation, but still precious, massive, 201:372;26[' ]| and splendid. There appeared the voluptuous charms of her 201:372;27[' ]| to$4$ whom the heir of the throne had in$4$ secret plighted his 201:372;28[' ]| faith. There too was she, the beautiful mother of a beautiful race, 201:372;29[' ]| the Saint*Cecilia, whose delicate features, lighted up$5$ by$4$ love and 201:372;30[' ]| music, art has rescued from the common decay. There were the 201:372;31[' ]| members of that$6#2$ brilliant society which$6#1$ quoted, criticised, and 201:372;32[' ]| exchanged repartees, under the rich peacock hangings of Mrs%*Montague. 201:372;33[' ]| And there the ladies whose lips, more persuasive 201:372;34[' ]| than those of Fox himself, had carried the Westminster 201:372;35[' ]| election against palace and treasury, shone round Georgiana, 201:372;36[' ]| Duchess*of*Devonshire. 201:373;01[' ]| ~~ ~~ ~~ 201:373;02[' ]| By$4$ this time July was far advanced; and the state of the city 201:373;03[' ]| was, hour by$4$ hour, become more frightful. The number of the 201:373;04[' ]| inhabitants had been thinned more by$4$ famine and disease than by$4$ 201:373;05[' ]| the fire of the enemy. Yet that$6#2$ fire was sharper and more constant 201:373;06[' ]| than ever. One of the gates was beaten in$5$; one of the bastions 201:373;07[' ]| was laid in$4$ ruins; but the breaches made by$4$ day were repaired by$4$ 201:373;08[' ]| night with indefatigable activity. Every attack was still repelled. But 201:373;09[' ]| the fighting men of the garrison were so$5#1$ much exhausted that$3$ they 201:373;10[' ]| could scarcely keep their legs. Several of them, in$4$ the act of striking 201:373;11[' ]| at the enemy, fell down from mere weakness. A very small quantity 201:373;12[' ]| of grain remained, and was doled out my mouthfuls. The stock of 201:373;13[' ]| salted hides was considerable, and by$4$ gnawing them the garrison 201:373;14[' ]| appeased the rage of hunger. Dogs, fattened on$4$ the blood of the 201:373;15[' ]| slain who$6#1$ lay unburied round the town, were luxuries which$6#1$ few 201:373;16[' ]| could afford to$9$ purchase. The price of a whelp's paw was five 201:373;17[' ]| shillings and sixpence. Nine horses were still alive, and but barely 201:373;18[' ]| alive. They were so$5#1$ lean that$3$ little meat was likely to$9$ be found 201:373;19[' ]| upon$4$ them. It was, however, determined to$9$ slaughter them for$4$ food. 201:373;20[' ]| The people perished so$5#1$ fast that$3$ it was impossible for$4$ the survivors 201:373;21[' ]| to$9$ perform the rights of sepulture. There was scarcely a cellar in$4$ 201:373;22[' ]| which$6#1$ some corpse was not decaying. Such was the extremity of 201:373;23[' ]| distress that$3$ the rats who$6#1$ came to$9$ feast in$4$ those hideous dens 201:373;24[' ]| were eagerly hunted and greedily devoured. A small fish, caught in$4$ 201:373;25[' ]| the river, was not to$9$ be purchased with money. The only price for$4$ 201:373;26[' ]| which$6#1$ such a treasure could be obtained was some handfuls of oatmeal. 201:373;27[' ]| Leprosies, such as strange and unwholesome diet engenders, 201:373;28[' ]| made existence a constant torment. The whole city was poisoned 201:373;29[' ]| by$4$ the stench exhaled from the bodies of the dead and of the half 201:373;30[' ]| dead. 201:373;31[' ]| ~~ ~~ ~~ 201:373;32[' ]| First were rolled on$4$ shore barrels containing six thousand bushels 201:373;33[' ]| of meal. Then came great cheeses, casks of beef, flitches of bacon, 201:373;34[' ]| kegs of butter, sacks of pease and biscuit, ankers of brandy. Not 201:373;35[' ]| many hours before, half a pound of tallow and three quarters of a 201:373;36[' ]| pound of salted hide had been weighed out with niggardly care to$4$ 201:373;37[' ]| every fighting man. The ration which$6#1$ each now received was three 201:373;38[' ]| pounds of flour, two pounds of beef, and a pint of pease. It is easy 201:373;39[' ]| to$9$ imagine with what tears grace was said over the suppers of that$6#2$ 201:373;40[' ]| evening. There was little sleep on$4$ either side of the wall. The bonfires 201:374;01[' ]| shone bright along the whole circuit of the ramparts. The Irish 201:374;02[' ]| guns continued to$9$ roar all night, and all night the bells of the 201:374;03[' ]| rescued city made answer to$4$ the Irish guns with a peal of joyous 201:374;04[' ]| defiance. Through the three following days the batteries of the 201:374;05[' ]| enemy continued to$9$ play. But, on$4$ the third night flames were 201:374;06[' ]| seen arising from the camp; and when the first of August 201:374;07[' ]| dawned, a line of smoking ruins marked the site lately occupied 201:374;08[' ]| by$4$ the huts of the besiegers; and the citizens saw far off 201:374;09[' ]| the long column of spikes and standards retreating up$4$ the 201:374;10[' ]| left bank of the Foyle towards Strabane. 101:008;00@@@@@| 101:008;00[' ]| 101:008;00[' ]| 101:008;00[' ]| 101:008;01[' ]| HOW TIDINGS CAME TO$4$ ARTHUR THAT$3$ KING*RIENCE 101:008;02[' ]| HAD OVERCOME ELEVEN KINGS, AND HOW HE DESIRED 101:008;03[' ]| ARTHUR'S BEARD TO$9$ TRIM HIS MANTLE. ~~ This meanwhile 101:008;04[' ]| came a messenger from King*Rience of North*Wales, 101:008;05[' ]| and King he was of all Ireland, and of many 101:008;06[' ]| isles. And this was his message, greeting well King*Arthur 101:008;07[' ]| in$4$ this manner wise, saying that$3$ King*Rience 101:008;08[' ]| had discomfited and overcome eleven kings, and every 101:008;09[' ]| each of them did him homage, and that$3$ was this, they 101:008;10[' ]| gave him their beards clean flayed off, as much as there 101:008;11[' ]| was: wherefore the messenger came for$4$ King*Arthur's 101:008;12[' ]| beard. For$3$ King*Rience had purfled a mantle with 101:008;13[' ]| kings' beards, and there lacked one place of the mantle; 101:008;14[' ]| wherefore he sent for$4$ his beard, or else he would enter 101:008;15[' ]| into his lands, and burn and slay, and never leave till 101:008;16[' ]| he have the head and the beard. 101:008;16[A ]| Well, 101:008;16[' ]| said Arthur, 101:008;17[A ]| thou hast said thy message, the which$6#1$ is the most 101:008;18[A ]| villainous and lewdest message that$6#1$ ever man heard 101:008;19[A ]| sent unto a king; also thou mayest see my beard is 101:008;20[A ]| full young yet to$9$ make a purfle of it. But tell thou 101:008;21[A ]| thy king this: I owe him none homage, nor none of 101:008;22[A ]| mine elders, but, or it be long too, he shall do me 101:008;23[A ]| homage on$4$ both his knees, or else he shall losE his 101:008;24[A ]| head, by$4$ the faith of my body, for$3$ this is the most 101:008;25[A ]| shamefulest message that$6#1$ ever I heard speak of. I have 101:009;01[A ]| espied thy king met never yet with worshipful man, 101:009;02[A ]| but tell him, I will$1$ have his head without he do me 101:009;03[A ]| homage. 101:009;03[' ]| Then the messenger departed. 101:009;03[A ]| Now is there 101:009;04[A ]| any here, 101:009;04[' ]| said Arthur, 101:009;04[A ]| that$6#1$ knowest King*Rience? 101:009;05[' ]| Then answered a knight that$6#1$ hight Naram, 101:009;05[B ]| Sir, 101:009;06[B ]| I know the king well; he is a passing good man of his 101:009;07[B ]| body, as few be living, and a passing proud man, and 101:009;08[B ]| Sir, doubt ye not he will$1$ make war on$4$ you with a 101:009;09[B ]| mighty puissance. 101:009;09[A ]| Well, 101:009;09[' ]| said Arthur, 101:009;09[A ]| I shall ordain 101:009;10[A ]| for$4$ him in$4$ short time. ~~ <\9Le 9Morte 9D'Arthur.\ > 102:009;00[' ]| 102:009;11[' ]| HOW BALIN MET WITH HIS BROTHER BALAN, AND HOW 102:009;12[' ]| EACH OF THEM SLEW OTHER UNKNOWN, TILL THEY WERE 102:009;13[' ]| WOUNDED TO$4$ DEATH. ~~ Then afore him he saw come 102:009;14[' ]| riding out of a castle a knight, and his horse trapped all 102:009;15[' ]| red, and himself in$4$ the same colour. When this knight 102:009;16[' ]| in$4$ the red beheld Balin him thought it should be his 102:009;17[' ]| brother Balin by$4$ cause of his two swords, but by$4$ cause 102:009;18[' ]| he knew not his shield he deemd it was not he. And 102:009;19[' ]| so$3$ they atventryd their spears and came marvellously 102:009;20[' ]| fast together, and they smote each other in$4$ the shields, 102:009;21[' ]| but their spears and their course were so$5#1$ big that$3$ it 102:009;22[' ]| bare down horse and man that$3$ they lay both in$4$ a swoon. 102:009;23[' ]| But Balin was bruised sore with the fall of his horse, 102:009;24[' ]| for$3$ he was weary of travel. And Balan was the first 102:009;25[' ]| that$6#1$ rose on$4$ foot and drew his sword, and went toward 102:009;26[' ]| Balin, and he arose and went against him; but Balan 102:009;27[' ]| smote Balin first, and he put up$5$ his shield and smote 102:009;28[' ]| him through the shield and tamyd his helm. Then 102:009;29[' ]| Balin smote him again with that$6#2$ unhappy sword, and 102:009;30[' ]| well nigh had felled his brother Balan, and so$3$ they 102:009;31[' ]| fought together till their breaths failed. Then Balin 102:009;32[' ]| looked up$5$ to$4$ the castle and saw the towers stand full 102:009;33[' ]| of ladies. So$3$ they went unto battle again, and wounded 102:009;34[' ]| each other dolefully, and then they breathed ofttimes, 102:010;01[' ]| and so$3$ went unto battle that$3$ all the place there as they 102:010;02[' ]| fought was blood red. And at that$6#2$ time there was 102:010;03[' ]| none of them both but they had either smitten other 102:010;04[' ]| seven great wounds, so$3$ that$3$ the least of them might 102:010;05[' ]| have been the death of the mightiest giant in$4$ this world. 102:010;06[' ]| Then they went to$4$ battle again so$5#1$ marvellously that$3$ 102:010;07[' ]| doubte it was to$9$ hear of that$6#2$ battle for$4$ the great blood 102:010;08[' ]| shedding, and their hauberks unnailed that$3$ naked they 102:010;09[' ]| were on$4$ every side. At last Balan the younger brother 102:010;10[' ]| withdrew him a little and laid him down. Then said 102:010;11[' ]| Balin*le*Savage, 102:010;11[C ]| What knight art thou? for$3$ or now I 102:010;12[C ]| found never no$2$ knight that$6#1$ matched me. 102:010;12[D ]| My name 102:010;13[D ]| is, 102:010;13[' ]| said he, 102:010;13[D ]| Balan, brother unto the good knight Balin. 102:010;14[C ]| Alas, 102:010;14[' ]| said Balin, 102:010;14[C ]| that$3$ ever I should see this day, 102:010;14[' ]| and 102:010;15[' ]| therewith he fell backward in$4$ a swoon. Then Balan 102:010;16[' ]| yede on$4$ all four feet and hands, and put off the helm 102:010;17[' ]| of his brother, and might not know him by$4$ the visage 102:010;18[' ]| it was so$5#1$ ful hewen and bledde; but when he awoke 102:010;19[' ]| he said, 102:010;19[C ]| O, Balan, my brother, thou hast slain me 102:010;20[C ]| and I thee, wherefore all the wide world shall speak of 102:010;21[C ]| us both. 102:010;21[D ]| Alas, 102:010;21[' ]| said Balan, 102:010;21[D ]| that$3$ ever I saw this day, 102:010;22[D ]| that$3$ through mishap I might not know you, for$3$ I 102:010;23[D ]| espied well your two swords, but by$4$ cause ye had 102:010;24[D ]| another shield I deemed ye had been another knight. 102:010;25[C ]| Alas, 102:010;25[' ]| said Balin, 102:010;25[C ]| all that$6#2$ made an unhappy knight in$4$ 102:010;26[C ]| the castle, for$3$ he caused me to$9$ leave my own shield to$4$ 102:010;27[C ]| our both's destruction, and if I might live I would 102:010;28[C ]| destroy that$6#2$ castle for$4$ ill customs. 102:010;28[D ]| That$6#2$ were well 102:010;29[D ]| done, 102:010;29[' ]| said Balan, 102:010;29[D ]| for$3$ I had never grace to$9$ depart from 102:010;30[D ]| them syne that$3$ I came hither, for$3$ here it happed me to$9$ 102:010;31[D ]| slay a knight that$6#1$ kept this island, and syne might I 102:010;32[D ]| never depart, and no$2$ more should ye, brother, an ye 102:010;33[D ]| might have slain me as you have, and escaped yourself 102:010;34[D ]| with the life. 102:010;34[' ]| Right so$5#2$ came the lady of the tower 102:010;35[' ]| with four knights and six ladies and six yeomen unto 102:010;36[' ]| them, and there she heard how they made their moan 102:010;37[' ]| either to$4$ other, and said, 102:010;37[Y ]| We came both out of one 102:010;38[Y ]| tomb, that$6#2$ is to$9$ say, one mother's belly, and so$3$ shall 102:010;39[Y ]| we lie both in$4$ one pit. 102:010;39[' ]| So$3$ Balan prayed the lady of 102:011;01[' ]| her gentleness, for$4$ his true service, that$3$ she would bury 102:011;02[' ]| them both in$4$ that$6#2$ same place where the battle was 102:011;03[' ]| done. And she granted them with weeping it should 102:011;04[' ]| be done richly in$4$ the best manner. 102:011;04[D ]| Now, will$1$ ye send 102:011;05[D ]| for$4$ a priest, that$3$ we may receive our sacrament, and 102:011;06[D ]| receive the blessed body of our Lord*Jesus*Christ? 102:011;07[E ]| Yea, 102:011;07[' ]| said the lady, 102:011;07[E ]| it shall be done; 102:011;07[' ]| and so$3$ she sent 102:011;08[' ]| for$4$ a priest and gave them their rites. 102:011;08[C ]| Now, 102:011;08[' ]| said 102:011;09[' ]| Balin, 102:011;09[C ]| when we are buried in$4$ one tomb, and the 102:011;10[C ]| mention made over us how two brethren slew each 102:011;11[C ]| other, there will$1$ never good knight nor good man see 102:011;12[C ]| our tomb but they will$1$ pray for$4$ our souls. 102:011;12[' ]| And so$3$ all 102:011;13[' ]| the ladies and gentlewomen wept for$4$ pity. Then anon 102:011;14[' ]| Balan died, but Balin died not till the midnight after, 102:011;15[' ]| and so$3$ were they buried both, and the lady let make 102:011;16[' ]| a mention of Balan how he was there slain by$4$ his 102:011;17[' ]| brother's hands, but she knew not Balin's name. 102:011;18[' ]| HOW MERLIN BURIED THEM BOTH IN$4$ ONE TOMB, 102:011;19[' ]| AND OF BALIN'S SWORD. ~~ In$4$ the morning came Merlin 102:011;20[' ]| and let write Balin's name on$4$ the tomb with letters 102:011;21[' ]| of gold, that$3$ 102:011;21[Z ]| here lieth Balin*le*Savage that$6#1$ was the 102:011;22[Z ]| knight with the two swords, and he that$6#1$ smote the 102:011;23[Z ]| dolorous stroke. 102:011;23[' ]| Also Merlin let make there a bed, 102:011;24[' ]| that$3$ there should never man lie therein but he went 102:011;25[' ]| out of his wit, yet Launcelot*de*Lake fordyd that$6#2$ bed 102:011;26[' ]| through his noblesse. And anon after Balin was dead, 102:011;27[' ]| Merlin took his sword, and took off the pommel and 102:011;28[' ]| set on$4$ another pommel. So$3$ Merlin bad a knight that$6#1$ 102:011;29[' ]| stood afore him handle that$6#2$ sword, and he assayed, and 102:011;30[' ]| he might not handle it. Then Merlin laughed. 102:011;30[F ]| Why 102:011;31[F ]| laugh ye? 102:011;31[' ]| said the knight. 102:011;31[G ]| This is the cause, 102:011;31[' ]| said 102:011;32[' ]| Merlin: 102:011;32[G ]| there shall never man handle this sword but 102:011;33[G ]| the best knight of the world, and that$6#2$ shall be Sir*Launcelot 102:011;34[G ]| or else Galahad his son, and Launcelot with 102:011;35[G ]| this sword shall slay the man that$6#1$ in$4$ the world he loved 102:011;36[G ]| best, that$6#2$ shall be Sir*Gawaine. 102:011;36[' ]| All this he let write 102:011;37[' ]| in$4$ the pommel of the sword. Then Merlin let make a 102:011;38[' ]| bridge of iron and of steel into that$6#2$ island, and it was 102:011;39[' ]| but half a foot broad, and there shall never man pass 102:012;01[' ]| that$6#2$ bridge, nor have hardiness to$9$ go over but if he 102:012;02[' ]| were a passing good man and a good knight without 102:012;03[' ]| treachery or villany. Also the scabbard of Balin's 102:012;04[' ]| sword Merlin left it on$4$ this side of the island, that$3$ Galahad 102:012;05[' ]| should find it. Also Merlin let make by$4$ his 102:012;06[' ]| subtlety that$3$ Balin's sword was put in$4$ a marble stone 102:012;07[' ]| standing upright as great as a mill stone, and the stone 102:012;08[' ]| hoved always above the water and did many years, 102:012;09[' ]| and so$3$ by$4$ adventure it swam down the stream to$4$ the 102:012;10[' ]| City of Camelot, that$6#2$ is in$4$ English*Winchester. And 102:012;11[' ]| that$6#2$ same day Galahad the haughty prince came with 102:012;12[' ]| King*Arthur, and so$3$ Galahad brought with him the 102:012;13[' ]| scabbard and achieved the sword that$6#1$ was there in$4$ the 102:012;14[' ]| marble stone hoving upon$4$ the water. And on$4$ Whitsunday 102:012;15[' ]| he achieved the sword as it is rehearsed in$4$ the 102:012;16[' ]| book of Sangreal. Soon after this was done Merlin 102:012;17[' ]| came to$4$ King*Arthur and told him of the dolorous 102:012;18[' ]| stroke that$6#1$ Balin gave to$4$ King*Pellam, and how Balin 102:012;19[' ]| and Balan fought together the marvellest battle that$6#1$ 102:012;20[' ]| ever was heard of, and how they were buried both in$4$ 102:012;21[' ]| one tomb. 102:012;21[A ]| Alas, 102:012;21[' ]| said King*Arthur, 102:012;21[A ]| this is the greatest 102:012;22[A ]| pity that$3$ ever I heard tell of two knights, for$3$ in$4$ the 102:012;23[A ]| world I know not such two knights. 102:012;23[' ]| Thus endeth the 102:012;24[' ]| tale of Balin and Balan, two brethren born in$4$ 102:012;25[' ]| Northumberland, good knights. ~~ <\9Le 9Morte 9D'Arthur.\ > 103:012;00[' ]| 103:012;26[' ]| HOW KING*ARTHUR TOOK A WIFE AND WEDDED 103:012;27[' ]| GUENEVER, DAUGHTER TO$4$ LEODEGRANCE, KING OF THE 103:012;28[' ]| LAND OF CAMELIARD, WITH WHOM HE HAD THE ROUND 103:012;29[' ]| TABLE. ~~ In$4$ the beginning of Arthur, after he was chosen 103:012;30[' ]| king by$4$ adventure and by$4$ grace, for$4$ the most part the 103:012;31[' ]| barons knew not that$3$ he was Uther*Pendragon's son, 103:012;32[' ]| but as Merlin made it openly known. But yet many 103:012;33[' ]| kings and lords held great war against him for$4$ that$6#2$ 103:012;34[' ]| cause, but well Arthur overcame them all; for$4$ the most 103:013;01[' ]| part of the days of his life he was ruled much by$4$ the 103:013;02[' ]| counsel of Merlin. So$3$ it fell on$4$ a time King*Arthur 103:013;03[' ]| said unto Merlin, 103:013;03[A ]| My barons will$1$ let me have no$2$ rest, 103:013;04[A ]| but needs I must take a wife, and I will$1$ none take but 103:013;05[A ]| by$4$ thy counsel and by$4$ thine advice. 103:013;05[G ]| It is well done, 103:013;06[' ]| said Merlin, 103:013;06[G ]| that$3$ ye take a wife, for$3$ a man of your 103:013;07[G ]| bounty and noblesse should not be without a wife. Now 103:013;08[G ]| is there any that$6#1$ ye love more than another? 103:013;08[A ]| Yea, 103:013;09[' ]| said King*Arthur, 103:013;09[A ]| I love Guenever, the king's daughter, 103:013;10[A ]| Leodegrance of the land of Cameliard, the which$6#1$ holdeth 103:013;11[A ]| in$4$ his house the Table*Round that$6#1$ ye told he had of 103:013;12[A ]| my father Uther. And this damosel is the most valiant 103:013;13[A ]| and fairest lady that$6#1$ I know living, or yet that$6#1$ ever I 103:013;14[A ]| could find. 103:013;14[G ]| Sir, 103:013;14[' ]| said Merlin, 103:013;14[G ]| as of her beauty and 103:013;15[G ]| fairness she is one of the fairest on$4$ live; but, an ye 103:013;16[G ]| loved her not so$5#1$ well as ye do, I should find you a 103:013;17[G ]| damosel of beauty and of goodness that$6#1$ should like$1$ you 103:013;18[G ]| and please you, an your heart were not set; but there 103:013;19[G ]| as a man's heart is set, he will$1$ be loth to$9$ return. 103:013;19[A ]| That$6#2$ 103:013;20[A ]| is truth, 103:013;20[' ]| said King*Arthur. But Merlin warned the 103:013;21[' ]| king covertly that$3$ Guenever was not wholesome for$4$ him 103:013;22[' ]| to$9$ take to$4$ wife, for$3$ he warned him that$3$ Launcelot 103:013;23[' ]| should love her, and she him again; and so$3$ he turned 103:013;24[' ]| his tale to$4$ the adventures of Sangreal. Then Merlin 103:013;25[' ]| desired of the king for$3$ to$9$ have men with him that$6#1$ 103:013;26[' ]| should enquire of Guenever, and so$3$ the king granted 103:013;27[' ]| him, and Merlin went forth unto King*Leodegrance, of 103:013;28[' ]| Cameliard, and told him of the desire of the king that$3$ 103:013;29[' ]| he would have unto his wife Guenever his daughter. 103:013;30[H ]| That$6#2$ is to$4$ me, 103:013;30[' ]| said King*Leogrance, 103:013;30[H ]| the best tidings 103:013;31[H ]| that$6#1$ ever I heard, that$3$ so$5#1$ worthy a king of prowess and 103:013;32[H ]| noblesse will$1$ wed my daughter. And as for$4$ my lands, 103:013;33[H ]| I will$1$ give him, wist I it might please him, but he hath 103:013;34[H ]| lands enow, him needeth none, but I shall send him a 103:013;35[H ]| gift shall please him much more, for$3$ I shall give him 103:013;36[H ]| the Table*Round, the which$6#1$ Uther*Pendragon gave me, 103:013;37[H ]| and when it is full complete, there is an hundred 103:013;38[H ]| knights and fifty. And as for$4$ an hundred good knights 103:013;39[H ]| I have myself, but I fawte fifty, for$3$ so$5#1$ many have 103:014;01[H ]| been slain in$4$ my days. 103:014;01[' ]| And so$3$ Leodegrance delivered 103:014;02[' ]| his daughter Guenever unto Merlin, and the Table*Round 103:014;03[' ]| with the hundred knights, and so$3$ they rode 103:014;04[' ]| freshly, with great royalty, what by$4$ water and what 103:014;05[' ]| by$4$ land, till they came nigh unto London. ~~ <\9Le 9Morte\ > 103:014;06[' ]| <\9D'Arthur\.> 101:001,01@@@@@| 101:001,01[' ]| 101:001,02[' ]| 101:001,03[' ]| 101:001,04[' ]| AND also Mahomet loved well a good heremyte, 101:001,05[' ]| that$6#1$ dwelled in$4$ the deserts a mile from Mount*Sinai, 101:001,06[' ]| in$4$ the way that$6#1$ men go from Araby toward Chaldea, 101:001,07[' ]| and toward Ind, one day's journey from the sea, where 101:001,08[' ]| the merchants of Venice come often for$4$ merchandise. 101:001,09[' ]| And so$5#1$ often went Mahomet to$4$ this heremyte, that$3$ all 101:001,10[' ]| his men were wroth: for$3$ he would gladly hear this 101:001,11[' ]| heremyte preach, and make his men wake all night: 101:001,12[' ]| and therefore his men thought to$9$ put the heremyte to$4$ 101:001,13[' ]| death: and so$3$ it befell upon$4$ a night, that$3$ Mahomet 101:001,14[' ]| was drunken of good wine, and he fell on*sleep. And 101:001,15[' ]| his men took Mahomet's sword out of his sheath, 101:001,16[' ]| whiles he slept, and therewith they slew this heremyte; 101:001,17[' ]| and put his sword all bloody in$4$ his sheath again. And 101:001,18[' ]| at morrow, when he found the heremyte dead, he was 101:001,19[' ]| full sorry and wroth, and would have done his men to$4$ 101:001,20[' ]| death: but they all, with one accord, said that$3$ he 101:001,21[' ]| himself had slain him, when he was drunken, and 101:001,22[' ]| shewed him his sword all bloody: and he trowed that$3$ 101:001,23[' ]| they had said sooth. And then he cursed the wine, 101:001,24[' ]| and all those that$6#1$ drink it. And therefore Saracens 101:002,01[' ]| that$6#1$ be devout drink never no$2$ wine: but some drink 101:002,02[' ]| it privily. For$3$ if they drunk it openly, they should be 101:002,03[' ]| repreved. But they drink good beverage and sweet 101:002,04[' ]| and nourishing, that$6#1$ is made of galamelle: and that$6#2$ is 101:002,05[' ]| that$6#1$ men make sugar of, that$6#2$ is of right good savour: 101:002,06[' ]| and it is good for$4$ the breast. 102:002,07[' ]| 102:002,08[' ]| 102:002,09[' ]| Also ye have heard me say that$3$ Jerusalem is in$4$ the 102:002,10[' ]| midst of the world; and that$6#2$ may men prove and shew 102:002,11[' ]| there, by$4$ a spear, that$6#1$ is pight into the earth, upon$4$ 102:002,12[' ]| the hour of midday, when it is equinox, that$6#1$ sheweth 102:002,13[' ]| no$2$ shadow on$4$ no$2$ side. And that$3$ it should be in$4$ the 102:002,14[' ]| midst of the world, David witnesseth it in$4$ the Psalter, 102:002,15[' ]| where he saith, 102:002,15[Z ]| \7Deus 7operatus 7est 7salutem 7in 7medio\ 102:002,16[Z ]| \7terrae\. 102:002,16[' ]| Then they that$6#1$ part from the parts of the 102:002,17[' ]| west, for$3$ to$9$ go towards Jerusalem, as many journeys 102:002,18[' ]| as they go upward for$3$ to$9$ go thither, in$4$ as many 102:002,19[' ]| journeys may they go from Jerusalem unto other 102:002,20[' ]| confines of the superficiality of the earth beyond. 102:002,21[' ]| And when men go beyond those journeys, toward Ind 102:002,22[' ]| and to$4$ the foreign isles, all is environing the roundness 102:002,23[' ]| of the earth and of the sea, under our countries on$4$ 102:002,24[' ]| this half. And therefore hath it befallen many times 102:002,25[' ]| of one thing that$3$ I have heard counted, when I was 102:002,26[' ]| young, how a worthy man departed sometime from our 102:002,27[' ]| countries, for$3$ to$9$ go search the world. And so$3$ he 102:002,28[' ]| passed Ind and the isles beyond Ind, where be more 102:002,29[' ]| than 5000 isles: and so$5#1$ long he went by$4$ sea and land, 102:002,30[' ]| and so$5#1$ environed the world by$4$ many seasons, that$3$ he 102:002,31[' ]| found an isle, where he heard speak his own language, 102:002,32[' ]| calling on$4$ oxen in$4$ the plough, such words as men speak 102:002,33[' ]| to$4$ beasts in$4$ his own country: whereof he had great 102:002,34[' ]| marvel: for$3$ he knew not how it might be. But I say, 102:002,35[' ]| that$3$ he had gone so$5#1$ long, by$4$ land and by$4$ sea, that$3$ he 102:003,01[' ]| had environed all the earth, that$3$ he was come again environing, 102:003,02[' ]| that$6#2$ is to$9$ say, going about, unto his own 102:003,03[' ]| marches, if he would have passed further, till he had 102:003,04[' ]| found his country and his own knowledge. But he 102:003,05[' ]| turned again from thence, from whence he was come 102:003,06[' ]| from; and so$3$ he lost much painful labour, as himself 102:003,07[' ]| said, a great while after that$6#2$ he was come home. For$3$ 102:003,08[' ]| it befell after, that$3$ he went into Norway; and there 102:003,09[' ]| tempest of the sea took him; and he arrived in$4$ an isle; 102:003,10[' ]| and, when he was in$4$ that$6#2$ isle, he knew well, that$3$ it 102:003,11[' ]| was the isle, where he had heard speak his own 102:003,12[' ]| language before, and the calling of oxen at the 102:003,13[' ]| plough: and that$6#2$ was possible thing. 102:003,14[' ]| But how it seemeth to$4$ simple men unlearned, that$3$ 102:003,15[' ]| man ne may not go under the earth, and also that$3$ men 102:003,16[' ]| should fall toward the heaven from under! But that$6#2$ 102:003,17[' ]| may not be, upon$4$ less, than we may fall toward heaven 102:003,18[' ]| from the earth, where we be. For$3$ from what part of 102:003,19[' ]| the earth, that$6#1$ men dwell, either above or beneath, it 102:003,20[' ]| seemeth always to$4$ them that$6#1$ dwell, that$3$ they go more 102:003,21[' ]| right than any other folk. And right as it seemeth to$4$ 102:003,22[' ]| us, that$3$ they be under us, right so$5#2$ it seemeth to$4$ them, 102:003,23[' ]| that$3$ we be under them. For$3$ if a man might fall from 102:003,24[' ]| the earth unto the firmament; by$4$ greater reason the 102:003,25[' ]| earth and the sea that$6#1$ be so$5#1$ great and so$5#1$ heavy should 102:003,26[' ]| fall to$4$ the firmament: but that$6#2$ may not be: and 102:003,27[' ]| therefore saith our Lord*God, 102:003,27[Z ]| \7Non 7timeas 7me, 7qui\ 102:003,28[Z ]| \7suspendi 7terram 7ex 7nihilo?\ 103:003,29[' ]| 103:003,30[' ]| 103:003,31[' ]| 103:003,32[' ]| Beside the isle of Pentexoire, that$6#2$ is the land of 103:003,33[' ]| Prester*John, is a great isle long and broad, that$6#1$ men 103:003,34[' ]| clepe Milsterak; and it is in$4$ the lordship of Prester*John. 103:003,35[' ]| In$4$ that$6#2$ isle is great plenty of goods. There was 103:004,01[' ]| dwelling, sometime, a rich man; and it is not long 103:004,02[' ]| sithen, and men clept him Gatholonabes; and he was 103:004,03[' ]| full of cautels and of subtle deceits. And he had a 103:004,04[' ]| full fair castle and a strong in$4$ a mountain, so$5#1$ strong 103:004,05[' ]| and so$5#1$ noble, that$3$ no$2$ man could devise a fairer ne 103:004,06[' ]| stronger. And he had let mure all the mountain about 103:004,07[' ]| with a strong wall and a fair. And within those walls 103:004,08[' ]| he had the fairest garden, that$6#1$ any man might behold; 103:004,09[' ]| and therein were trees bearing all manner of fruits, 103:004,10[' ]| that$6#1$ any man could devise: and therein were also all 103:004,11[' ]| manner virtuous herbs of good smell, and all other 103:004,12[' ]| herbs also, that$6#1$ bear fair flowers. And he had also 103:004,13[' ]| in$4$ that$6#2$ garden many fair wells; and beside those wells 103:004,14[' ]| he had let make fair halls and fair chambers, depainted 103:004,15[' ]| all with gold and azure; and there were in$4$ that$6#2$ place 103:004,16[' ]| many diverse things, and many diverse stories: and of 103:004,17[' ]| beasts, and of birds that$6#1$ sung full delectably and moved 103:004,18[' ]| by$4$ craft, that$3$ it seemed that$3$ they were quick. And he 103:004,19[' ]| had also in$4$ his garden all manner of fowls and of 103:004,20[' ]| beasts, that$6#1$ any man might think on$5$, for$3$ to$9$ have play 103:004,21[' ]| or desport to$9$ behold them. 103:004,22[' ]| And he had also, in$4$ that$6#2$ place, the fairest damosels, 103:004,23[' ]| that$6#1$ might be found, under the age of fifteen years, 103:004,24[' ]| and the fairest young striplings that$6#1$ men might get, of 103:004,25[' ]| that$6#2$ same age: and all they were clothed in$4$ cloths of 103:004,26[' ]| gold, fully richly: and he said that$3$ those were angels. 103:004,27[' ]| And he had also let make three wells, fair and noble, 103:004,28[' ]| and all environed with stone of jasper, of crystal, 103:004,29[' ]| diapered with gold, and set with precious stones and 103:004,30[' ]| great orient pearls. And he had made a conduit under 103:004,31[' ]| earth, so$3$ that$3$ the three wells, at his list, one should 103:004,32[' ]| run milk, another wine, and another honey. And 103:004,33[' ]| that$6#2$ place he clept Paradise. 103:004,34[' ]| And when that$3$ any good knight, that$6#1$ was hardy 103:004,35[' ]| and noble, came to$9$ see this royalty, he would lead him 103:004,36[' ]| into his Paradise, and show him these wonderful 103:004,37[' ]| things, to$4$ his desport, and the marvellous and delicious 103:004,38[' ]| song of diverse birds, and the fair damosels, and the 103:004,39[' ]| fair wells of milk, wine, and honey, plenteous running. 103:005,01[' ]| And he would let make divers instruments of music to$9$ 103:005,02[' ]| sound in$4$ an high tower, so$5#1$ merrily that$3$ it was joy for$3$ 103:005,03[' ]| to$9$ hear; and no$2$ man should see the craft thereof: and 103:005,04[' ]| those, he said, were angels of God, and that$6#2$ place was 103:005,05[' ]| Paradise, that$6#1$ God had behight to$4$ his friends, saying, 103:005,06[Z ]| \7Dabo 7vobis 7terram 7fluentem 7lacte 7et 7melle.\ 103:005,06[' ]| And then 103:005,07[' ]| would he make them to$9$ drink of certain drink, whereof 103:005,08[' ]| anon they should be drunk. And then would them 103:005,09[' ]| think greater delight than they had before. And then 103:005,10[' ]| would he say to$4$ them, that$3$ if they would die for$4$ him 103:005,11[' ]| and for$4$ his love, that$3$ after their death they should 103:005,12[' ]| come to$4$ his Paradise; and they should be of the age 103:005,13[' ]| of those damosels, and they should play with them, 103:005,14[' ]| and yet be maidens. And after that$6#2$, yet should he 103:005,15[' ]| put them in$4$ a fairer Paradise, where that$3$ they should 103:005,16[' ]| see God of nature visibly, in$4$ his majesty and in$4$ his 103:005,17[' ]| bliss. And then would he shew them his intent, and 103:005,18[' ]| say them, that$3$ if they would go slay such a lord or 103:005,19[' ]| such a man, that$6#1$ was his enemy or contrarious to$4$ his 103:005,20[' ]| list, that$3$ they should not dread to$9$ do it, and for$3$ to$9$ be 103:005,21[' ]| slain therefore themselves: for$3$ after their death, he 103:005,22[' ]| would put them into another Paradise, that$6#1$ was an 103:005,23[' ]| hundred-fold fairer than any of the tother: and there 103:005,24[' ]| should they dwell with the most fairest damosels that$6#1$ 103:005,25[' ]| might be, and play with them evermore. And thus 103:005,26[' ]| went many diverse lusty bachelors for$3$ to$9$ slay great 103:005,27[' ]| lords, in$4$ diverse countries, that$6#1$ were his enemies, and 103:005,28[' ]| made themselves to$9$ be slain, in$4$ hope to$9$ have that$6#2$ 103:005,29[' ]| Paradise. And thus, oftentime, he was revenged of 103:005,30[' ]| his enemies, by$4$ his subtle deceits and false cautels. 103:005,31[' ]| And when the worthy men of the country had perceived 103:005,32[' ]| this subtle falsehood of this Gatholonabes, they 103:005,33[' ]| assembled them with force, and assailed his castle, and 103:005,34[' ]| slew him, and destroyed all the fair places and all the 103:005,35[' ]| nobilities of that$6#2$ Paradise. The place of the wells and 103:005,36[' ]| of the walls and of many other things, be yet apertly 103:005,37[' ]| seen, but the riches is voided clean. And it is not 103:005,38[' ]| long gone, sithen that$6#2$ place was destroyed. ~~ 103:005,38[' ]| <\The\> 103:005,39[' ]| <\Voyages and Travels of Sir*John*Mandeville, Kt.\> 201:064;00[' ]| 201:064;30[' ]| And some men say that$3$ in$4$ the Isle*of*Lango is yet the daughter 201:064;31[' ]| of Hippocrates, in$4$ form and likeness of a great dragon, that$6#2$ is a 201:064;32[' ]| hundred fathom of length, as men say: for$3$ I have not seen her. 201:064;33[' ]| And they of the Isles call her, Lady*of*the*Land. And she lieth 201:064;34[' ]| in$4$ an old castle, in$4$ a cave, and sheweth twice or thrice in$4$ the year. 201:064;35[' ]| And she doth no$2$ harm to$4$ no$2$ man, but if men do her harm. And 201:064;36[' ]| she was thus changed and transformed, from a fair damsel, into 201:064;37[' ]| likeness of a dragon, by$4$ a goddess, and that$6#1$ was cleped Diana. And 201:064;38[' ]| men say, that$3$ she shall so$5#2$ endure in$4$ that$6#2$ form of a dragon, unto 201:065;01[' ]| the time that$6#1$ a knight come, that$6#1$ is so$5#1$ hardy, that$6#1$ dare come to$4$ 201:065;02[' ]| her and kiss her on$4$ the mouth: and then shall she turn again to$4$ 201:065;03[' ]| her own kind, and be a woman again. But after that$6#2$ she shall 201:065;04[' ]| not live long. And it is not long since, that$3$ a knight of the 201:065;05[' ]| Rhodes, that$6#1$ was hardy and doughty in$4$ arms, said that$3$ he would 201:065;06[' ]| kiss her. And when he was upon$4$ his courser, and went to$4$ the 201:065;07[' ]| castle, and entered into the cave, the dragon lift up$5$ her head 201:065;08[' ]| against him. And when the knight saw her in$4$ that$6#2$ form so$5#1$ 201:065;09[' ]| hideous and so$5#1$ horrible, he fled away. And the dragon bare the 201:065;10[' ]| knight upon$4$ a rock, maugre his head; and from that$6#2$ rock she 201:065;11[' ]| cast him into the sea: and so$3$ was lost both horse and man. And 201:065;12[' ]| also a young man, that$6#1$ wist not of the dragon, went out of a ship, 201:065;13[' ]| and went through the Isle, till that$3$ he came to$4$ the castle, and 201:065;14[' ]| came in$5$ to$4$ the cave, and went so$5#1$ long till that$3$ he found a chamber, 201:065;15[' ]| and there he saw a damsel that$6#1$ combed her head, and looked in$4$ 201:065;16[' ]| a mirror; and she had much treasure about her, and he trowed, 201:065;17[' ]| that$3$ she had been a common woman, that$6#1$ dwelled there to$9$ receive 201:065;18[' ]| men to$4$ folly. And he abode, till the damsel saw the shadow of 201:065;19[' ]| him in$4$ the mirror. And she turned her toward him, and asked 201:065;20[' ]| him, what he would. And he said, he would be her leman or 201:065;21[' ]| paramour. And she asked him if that$3$ he were a knight. And 201:065;22[' ]| he said, nay. And then she said that$3$ he might not be her leman: 201:065;23[' ]| but she bade him go again unto his fellows, and make him knight, 201:065;24[' ]| and come again upon$4$ the morrow, and she should come out of the 201:065;25[' ]| cave before him and then come and kiss her on$4$ the mouth, and 201:065;26[' ]| have no$2$ dread; "for$3$ I shall do thee no$2$ manner of harm, albeit 201:065;27[' ]| that$3$ thou see me in$4$ likeness of a dragon. For$3$ though thou see 201:065;28[' ]| me hideous and horrible to$9$ look on$5$, I do thee to$9$ witness, that$3$ it 201:065;29[' ]| is made by$4$ enchantment. For$3$ without doubt, I am none other 201:065;30[' ]| than thou seest now, a woman; and therefore dread thee nought. 201:065;31[' ]| And if thou kiss me, thou shalt have all this treasure, and be my 201:065;32[' ]| lord, and lord also of all that$6#2$ isle." And he departed from her and 201:065;33[' ]| went to$4$ his fellows to$4$ ship, and let make him knight, and came 201:065;34[' ]| again upon$4$ the morrow, for$3$ to$9$ kiss this damsel. And when he 201:065;35[' ]| saw her come out of the cave, in$4$ form of a dragon, so$5#1$ hideous and 201:065;36[' ]| so$5#1$ horrible, he had so$5#1$ great dread, that$3$ he fled again to$4$ the ship; 201:065;37[' ]| and she followed him. And when she saw that$3$ he turned not 201:065;38[' ]| again, she began to$9$ cry, as a thing that$6#1$ had much sorrow: and 201:065;39[' ]| then she turned again, into her cave; and anon the knight died. 201:065;40[' ]| And since then, hitherwards, might no$2$ knight see her, but that$3$ he 201:065;41[' ]| died anon. But when a knight cometh, that$6#1$ is so$5#1$ hardy to$9$ kiss 201:065;42[' ]| her, he shall not die; but he shall turn the damsel into her right 201:065;43[' ]| form and kindly shape, and he shall be lord of all the countries 201:065;44[' ]| and isles abovesaid. 101:030,00@@@@@| 101:030,01[' ]| 101:030,02[' ]| <1535(?) ~~ 1601> 101:030,03[' ]| 101:030,04[' ]| WHEN they came to$9$ tell the voices of the Tribes, there 101:030,05[' ]| were three voices odd which$6#1$ condemned him to$9$ be 101:030,06[' ]| banished for*ever. After declaration of the sentence, 101:030,07[' ]| the people made such joy, as they never rejoiced more 101:030,08[' ]| for$4$ any battle they had won upon$4$ their enemies, they 101:030,09[' ]| were so$5#1$ brave and lively, and went home so$5#1$ jocundly 101:030,10[' ]| from the Assembly, for$4$ triumph of this sentence. The 101:030,11[' ]| Senate again, in$4$ contrary manner, were as sad and 101:030,12[' ]| heavy, repenting themselves beyond measure that$3$ they 101:030,13[' ]| had not rather determined to$9$ have done and suffered anything 101:030,14[' ]| whatsoever, before the common People should so$5#1$ 101:031,01[' ]| arrogantly and outrageously have abused their authority. 101:031,02[' ]| There needed no$2$ difference of garments, I warrant you, 101:031,03[' ]| nor outward shows to$9$ know a Plebeian from a Patrician, 101:031,04[' ]| for$3$ they were easily discerned by$4$ their looks. For$3$ 101:031,05[' ]| he that$6#1$ was on$4$ the People's side looked cheerfully on$4$ 101:031,06[' ]| the matter; but he that$6#1$ was sad, and hung down his 101:031,07[' ]| head, he was sure of the Noblemen's side. Saving 101:031,08[' ]| Martius alone, who$6#1$ neither in$4$ his countenance nor in$4$ 101:031,09[' ]| his gait did ever show himself abashed, or once let fall 101:031,10[' ]| his great courage: but he only of all other Gentlemen 101:031,11[' ]| that$6#1$ were angry at his fortune, did outwardly show no$2$ 101:031,12[' ]| manner of passion, nor care at all of himself. Not that$3$ 101:031,13[' ]| he did patiently bear and temper his evil hap, in$4$ respect 101:031,14[' ]| of any reason he had, or by$4$ his quiet condition; but 101:031,15[' ]| because he was so$5#1$ carried away with the vehemency of 101:031,16[' ]| anger and desire of revenge, that$3$ he had no$2$ sense nor 101:031,17[' ]| feeling of the hard state he was in$4$, which$6#1$ the common 101:031,18[' ]| People judge not to$9$ be sorrow, although indeed it be 101:031,19[' ]| the very same. For$3$ when sorrow (as you would say) 101:031,20[' ]| is set on$4$ fire, then it is converted into spite and malice, 101:031,21[' ]| and driveth away for$4$ that$6#2$ time all faintness of heart, 101:031,22[' ]| and natural fear. And this is the cause why the choleric 101:031,23[' ]| man is so$5#1$ altered and mad in$4$ his actions, as a man set 101:031,24[' ]| on$4$ fire with a burning ague; for$3$ when a man's heart is 101:031,25[' ]| troubled within, his pulse will$1$ beat marvellous strongly. 101:031,26[' ]| Now that$3$ Martius was even in$4$ that$6#2$ taking, it appeared 101:031,27[' ]| true soon after by$4$ his doings. For$3$ when he was come 101:031,28[' ]| home to$4$ his house again, and had taken his leave of his 101:031,29[' ]| mother and wife, finding them weeping and shrieking 101:031,30[' ]| out for$4$ sorrow, and had also comforted and persuaded 101:031,31[' ]| them to$9$ be content with his chance: he went immediately 101:031,32[' ]| to$4$ the gate of the city, accompanied with a great 101:031,33[' ]| number of the Patricians, that$6#1$ brought him thither, 101:031,34[' ]| from whence he went on$4$ his way with three or four of 101:031,35[' ]| his friends only, taking nothing with him, nor requesting 101:031,36[' ]| anything of any man. So$3$ he remained a few days in$4$ 101:031,37[' ]| the country at his houses, turmoiled with sundry sorts 101:031,38[' ]| and kinds of thoughts, such as the fire of his choler did 101:031,39[' ]| stir up$5$. In$4$ the end, seeing he could resolve no$2$ way to$9$ 101:031,40[' ]| take a profitable or honourable course, but only was 101:032,01[' ]| pricked forward still to$9$ be revenged of the Romans: he 101:032,02[' ]| thought to$9$ raise up$5$ some great wars against them by$4$ 101:032,03[' ]| their nearest neighbours. Whereupon he thought it his 101:032,04[' ]| best way first to$9$ stir up$5$ the Volsces against them, knowing 101:032,05[' ]| they were yet able enough in$4$ strength and riches 101:032,06[' ]| to$9$ encounter them, notwithstanding their former losses 101:032,07[' ]| they had received not long before, and that$3$ their power 101:032,08[' ]| was not so$5#1$ much impaired as their malice and desire 101:032,09[' ]| was increased to$9$ be revenged of the Romans. Now in$4$ 101:032,10[' ]| the City of Antium there was one called Tullus*Aufidius, 101:032,11[' ]| who$6#1$ for$4$ his riches, as also for$4$ his nobility and valiantness, 101:032,12[' ]| was honoured among the Volsces as a King. 101:032,13[' ]| Martius knew very well that$3$ Tullus did more malice 101:032,14[' ]| and envy him than he did all the Romans besides: 101:032,15[' ]| because that$3$ many times in$4$ battles where they met, they 101:032,16[' ]| were ever at the encounter one against another, like$4$ 101:032,17[' ]| lusty courageous youths, striving in$4$ all emulation of 101:032,18[' ]| honour, and had encountered many times together. Insomuch 101:032,19[' ]| as besides the common quarrel between them, 101:032,20[' ]| there was bred a marvellous private hate one against 101:032,21[' ]| another. Yet notwithstanding, considering that$3$ Tullus*Aufidius 101:032,22[' ]| was a man of a great mind, and that$3$ he above 101:032,23[' ]| all other of the Volsces most desired revenge of the 101:032,24[' ]| Romans, for$4$ the injuries they had done unto them, he 101:032,25[' ]| did an act that$6#1$ confirmed the words of an ancient Poet 101:032,26[' ]| to$9$ be true, who$6#1$ said: ~~ 101:032,27[Z ]| ""It is a thing full hard, man's anger to$9$ withstand, 101:032,28[Z ]| If it be stiffly bent to$9$ take an enterprise in$4$ hand, 101:032,29[Z ]| For$3$ then most men will$1$ have the thing that$6#1$ they desire, 101:032,30[Z ]| Although it cost their lives therefor, such force hath wicked ire."" 101:032,31[' ]| And so$5#2$ did he. For$3$ he disguised himself in$4$ such array 101:032,32[' ]| and attire as he thought no$2$ man could ever have known 101:032,33[' ]| him for$4$ the person he was, seeing him in$4$ that$6#2$ apparel 101:032,34[' ]| he had upon$4$ his back: and as Homer said of Ulysses ~~ 101:032,35[Z ]| ""So$5#2$ did he enter into the enemies' town."" 101:032,36[' ]| It was even twilight when he entered the city of 101:032,37[' ]| Antium, and many people met him in$4$ the streets, but 101:032,38[' ]| no$2$ man knew him. So$3$ he went directly to$4$ Tullus*Aufidius 101:033,01[' ]| house, and when he came thither, he got him 101:033,02[' ]| up$5$ straight to$4$ the chimney hearth, and sate him down, 101:033,03[' ]| and spake not a word to$4$ any man, his face all muffled 101:033,04[' ]| over. They of the house spying him, wondered what 101:033,05[' ]| he should be, and yet they durst not bid him rise. For$3$ 101:033,06[' ]| ill-favouredly muffled and disguised as he was, yet 101:033,07[' ]| there appeared a certain majesty in$4$ his countenance 101:033,08[' ]| and in$4$ his silence: whereupon they went to$4$ Tullus, 101:033,09[' ]| who$6#1$ was at supper, to$9$ tell him of the strange disguising 101:033,10[' ]| of this man. Tullus rose presently from the board, and 101:033,11[' ]| coming towards him, asked him what he was, and wherefore 101:033,12[' ]| he came. Then Martius unmuffled himself, and 101:033,13[' ]| after he had paused awhile, making no$2$ answer, he said 101:033,14[' ]| unto him: 101:033,14[Z ]| ""If thou knowest me not yet, Tullus, and 101:033,15[Z ]| seeing me, dost not perhaps believe me to$9$ be the man 101:033,16[Z ]| I am indeed, I must of necessity betray myself to$9$ be 101:033,17[Z ]| that$6#2$ I am. I am Caius*Martius, who$6#1$ hath done to$4$ thyself 101:033,18[Z ]| particularly, and to$4$ all the Volsces generally, great 101:033,19[Z ]| hurt and mischief, which$6#1$ I cannot deny for$4$ my surname 101:033,20[Z ]| of Coriolanus that$6#1$ I bare. For$3$ I never had another 101:033,21[Z ]| benefit nor recompence of the true and painful service 101:033,22[Z ]| I have done, and the extreme dangers I have been in$4$, 101:033,23[Z ]| but this only surname: a good memory and witness of 101:033,24[Z ]| the malice and displeasure thou shouldest bear me. 101:033,25[Z ]| Indeed the name only remaineth with me; for$4$ the rest, 101:033,26[Z ]| the envy and cruelty of the People of Rome have taken 101:033,27[Z ]| from me, by$4$ the sufferance of the dastardly Nobility and 101:033,28[Z ]| Magistrates, who$6#1$ have forsaken me, and let me be 101:033,29[Z ]| banished by$4$ the People. This extremity hath now driven 101:033,30[Z ]| me to$9$ come as a poor suitor, to$9$ take thy chimney hearth, 101:033,31[Z ]| not of any hope I have to$9$ save my life thereby. For$3$ 101:033,32[Z ]| if I had feared death, I would not have come hither to$9$ 101:033,33[Z ]| have put myself in$4$ hazard: but pricked forward with 101:033,34[Z ]| desire to$9$ be revenged of them that$6#1$ thus have banished 101:033,35[Z ]| me, which$6#1$ now I do begin, in$4$ putting my person into 101:033,36[Z ]| the hands of their enemies. Wherefore, if thou hast 101:033,37[Z ]| any heart to$9$ be wrecked of the injuries thy Enemies have 101:033,38[Z ]| done thee, speed thee now, and let my misery serve thy 101:033,39[Z ]| turn, and so$5#2$ use it, as my service may be a benefit to$4$ 101:033,40[Z ]| the Volsces: promising thee that$3$ I will$1$ fight with better 101:034,01[Z ]| good will$0$ for$4$ all you than I did when I was against you, 101:034,02[Z ]| knowing that$3$ they fight more valiantly who$6#1$ know the 101:034,03[Z ]| force of the enemy than such as have never proved it. 101:034,04[Z ]| And if it be so$5#2$ that$3$ thou dare not, and that$3$ thou art 101:034,05[Z ]| weary to$9$ prove fortune any more, then am I also weary 101:034,06[Z ]| to$9$ live any longer. And it were no$2$ wisdom in$4$ thee to$9$ 101:034,07[Z ]| save the life of him who$6#1$ hath been heretofore thy mortal 101:034,08[Z ]| Enemy, and whose service now can nothing help nor 101:034,09[Z ]| pleasure thee."" 101:034,09[' ]| Tullus hearing what he said, was a marvellous 101:034,10[' ]| glad man, and taking him by$4$ the hand, he said unto 101:034,11[' ]| him: 101:034,11[Z ]| ""Stand up$5$, O Martius, and be of good cheer, for$3$ in$4$ 101:034,12[Z ]| proffering thyself unto us, thou dost us great honour: 101:034,13[Z ]| and by$4$ this means thou mayest hope also of greater 101:034,14[Z ]| things at all the Volsces' hands."" 101:034,14[' ]| So$3$ he feasted him for$4$ 101:034,15[' ]| that$6#2$ time, and entertained him in$4$ the honourablest 101:034,16[' ]| manner he could, talking with him of no$2$ other matter 101:034,17[' ]| at that$6#2$ present. ~~ 101:034,17[' ]| <\Plutarch's Lives of the Noble Grecians\> 101:034,18[' ]| <\and Romans, translated.\> 101:163;00@@@@@| 101:163;01[' ]| 101:163;02[' ]| 101:163;03[' ]| I. AMONG the hours of his life to$4$ which$6#1$ the writer looks 101:163;04[' ]| back with peculiar gratitude, as having been marked by$4$ more 101:163;05[' ]| than ordinary fulness of joy or clearness of teaching, is one 101:163;06[' ]| passed, now some years ago, near time of sunset, among the 101:163;07[' ]| broken masses of pine forest which$6#1$ skirt the course of the 101:163;08[' ]| Ain, above the village of Champagnole, in$4$ the Jura. It is a 101:163;09[' ]| spot which$6#1$ has all the solemnity, with none of the savageness, 101:163;10[' ]| of the Alps; where there is a sense of a great power beginning 101:163;11[' ]| to$9$ be manifested in$4$ the earth, and of a deep and majestic 101:163;12[' ]| concord in$4$ the rise of the long low lines of piny hills; the 101:163;13[' ]| first utterance of those mighty mountain symphonies, soon to$9$ 101:163;14[' ]| be more loudly lifted and wildly broken along the battlements 101:163;15[' ]| of the Alps. But their strength is as yet restrained; and the 101:163;16[' ]| far-reaching ridges of pastoral mountain succeed each other, 101:163;17[' ]| like$4$ the long and sighing swell which$6#1$ moves over quiet waters 101:163;18[' ]| from some far-off stormy sea. And there is a deep tenderness 101:163;19[' ]| pervading that$6#2$ vast monotony. The destructive forces and 101:163;20[' ]| the stern expression of the central ranges are alike withdrawn. 101:163;21[' ]| No$2$ frost-ploughed, dust-encumbered paths of ancient glacier 101:163;22[' ]| fret the soft Jura pastures; no$2$ splintered heaps of ruin break 101:163;23[' ]| the fair ranks of her forests; no$2$ pale, defiled, or furious rivers 101:163;24[' ]| rend their rude and changeful ways among her rocks. Patiently, 101:163;25[' ]| eddy by$4$ eddy, the clear green streams wind along their 101:163;26[' ]| well-known beds; and under the dark quietness of the undisturbed 101:163;27[' ]| pines, there spring up$5$, year by$4$ year, such company of 101:163;28[' ]| joyful flowers as I know not the like$0$ of among all the blessings 101:163;29[' ]| of the earth. It was Spring time, too; and all were coming 101:163;30[' ]| forth in$4$ clusters crowded for$4$ very love; there was room 101:164;01[' ]| enough for$4$ all, but they crushed their leaves into all manner 101:164;02[' ]| of strange shapes only to$9$ be nearer each other. There was 101:164;03[' ]| the wood anemone, star after star, closing every now and then 101:164;04[' ]| into nebulae: and there was the oxalis, troop by$4$ troop like$4$ 101:164;05[' ]| virginal processions of the Mois*de*Marie, the dark vertical 101:164;06[' ]| clefts in$4$ the limestone choked up$5$ with them as with heavy 101:164;07[' ]| snow, and touched with ivy on$4$ the edges ~~ ivy as light and 101:164;08[' ]| lovely as the vine; and, ever and anon, a blue gush of violets, 101:164;09[' ]| and cowslip bells in$4$ sunny places; and in$4$ the more open 101:164;10[' ]| ground, the vetch, and comfrey, and mezereon, and the small 101:164;11[' ]| sapphire buds of the Polygala*Alpina, and the wild strawberry, 101:164;12[' ]| just a blossom or two, all showered amidst the golden softness 101:164;13[' ]| of deep, warm, amber-colored moss. I came out presently on$4$ 101:164;14[' ]| the edge of the ravine: the solemn murmur of its waters rose 101:164;15[' ]| suddenly from beneath, mixed with the singing of the thrushes 101:164;16[' ]| among the pine boughs; and, on$4$ the opposite side of the 101:164;17[' ]| valley, walled all along as it was by$4$ grey cliffs of limestone, 101:164;18[' ]| there was a hawk sailing slowly off their brow, touching them 101:164;19[' ]| nearly with his wings, and with the shadows of the pines 101:164;20[' ]| flickering upon$4$ his plumage from above; but with a fall of a 101:164;21[' ]| hundred fathoms under his breast, and the curling pools of the 101:164;22[' ]| green river gliding and glittering dizzily beneath him, their 101:164;23[' ]| foam globes moving with him as he flew. It would be difficult 101:164;24[' ]| to$9$ conceive a scene less dependent upon$4$ any other interest 101:164;25[' ]| than that$6#2$ of its own secluded and serious beauty; but the 101:164;26[' ]| writer well remembers the sudden blankness and chill which$6#1$ 101:164;27[' ]| were cast upon$4$ it when he endeavored, in$4$ order more strictly 101:164;28[' ]| to$9$ arrive at the sources of its impressiveness, to$9$ imagine it, for$4$ 101:164;29[' ]| a moment, a scene in$4$ some aboriginal forest of the New*Continent. 101:164;30[' ]| The flowers in$4$ an instant lost their light, the river its 101:164;31[' ]| music; the hills became oppressively desolate; a heaviness 101:164;32[' ]| in$4$ the boughs of the darkened forest showed how much of 101:164;33[' ]| their former power had been dependent upon$4$ a life which$6#1$ was 101:164;34[' ]| not theirs, how much of the glory of the imperishable, or continually 101:164;35[' ]| renewed, creation is reflected from things more precious 101:164;36[' ]| in$4$ their memories than it, in$4$ its renewing. Those ever 101:164;37[' ]| springing flowers and ever flowing streams had been dyed by$4$ 101:165;01[' ]| the deep colors of human endurance, valor, and virtue; and 101:165;02[' ]| the crests of the sable hills that$6#1$ rose against the evening sky 101:165;03[' ]| received a deeper worship, because their far shadows fell eastward 101:165;04[' ]| over the iron wall of Joux and the four-square keep of 101:165;05[' ]| Granson. 102:165;06[' ]| II. It is as the centralisation and protectress of this sacred 102:165;07[' ]| influence, that$3$ Architecture is to$9$ be regarded by$4$ us with the 102:165;08[' ]| most serious thought. We may live without her, and worship 102:165;09[' ]| without her, but we cannot remember without her. How cold 102:165;10[' ]| is all history how lifeless all imagery, compared to$4$ that$6#2$ which$6#1$ 102:165;11[' ]| the living nation writes, and the uncorrupted marble bears! 102:165;12[' ]| how many pages of doubtful record might we not often spare, 102:165;13[' ]| for$4$ a few stones left one upon$4$ another! The ambition of the 102:165;14[' ]| old Babel builders was well directed for$4$ this world: there are 102:165;15[' ]| but two strong conquerors of the forgetfulness of men, Poetry 102:165;16[' ]| and Architecture; and the latter in$4$ some sort includes the 102:165;17[' ]| former, and is mightier in$4$ its reality; it is well to$9$ have, not 102:165;18[' ]| only what men have thought and felt, but what their hands 102:165;19[' ]| have handled, and their strength wrought, and their eyes beheld, 102:165;20[' ]| all the days of their life. The age of Homer is surrounded with 102:165;21[' ]| darkness, his very personality with doubt. Not so$5#2$ that$6#2$ of 102:165;22[' ]| Pericles: and the day is coming when we shall confess, that$3$ we 102:165;23[' ]| have learned more of Greece out of the crumbled fragments of 102:165;24[' ]| her sculpture than even from her sweet singers or soldier historians. 102:165;25[' ]| And if indeed there be any profit in$4$ our knowledge 102:165;26[' ]| of the past, or any joy in$4$ the thought of being remembered 102:165;27[' ]| hereafter, which$6#1$ can give strength to$4$ present exertion, or 102:165;28[' ]| patience to$4$ present endurance, there are two duties respecting 102:165;29[' ]| national architecture whose importance it is impossible to$9$ over-rate; 102:165;30[' ]| the first, to$9$ render the architecture of the day historical; 102:165;31[' ]| and, the second, to$9$ preserve, as the most precious of inheritances, 102:165;32[' ]| that$6#2$ of past ages. 103:165;33[' ]| III. It is in$4$ the first of these two directions that$3$ Memory 103:165;34[' ]| may truly be said to$9$ be the Sixth Lamp of Architecture; for$3$ 103:165;35[' ]| it is in$4$ becoming memorial or monumental that$3$ a true perfection 103:165;36[' ]| is attained by$4$ civil and domestic buildings; and this partly 103:165;37[' ]| as they are, with such a view, built in$4$ a more stable manner, 103:166;01[' ]| and partly as their decorations are consequently animated by$4$ a 103:166;02[' ]| metaphorical or historical meaning. 103:166;03[' ]| As regards domestic buildings, there must always be a certain 103:166;04[' ]| limitation to$4$ views of this kind in$4$ the power, as well as in$4$ 103:166;05[' ]| the hearts, of men; still I cannot but think it an evil sign of 103:166;06[' ]| a people when their houses are built to$9$ last for$4$ one generation 103:166;07[' ]| only. There is a sanctity in$4$ a good man's house which$6#1$ cannot 103:166;08[' ]| be renewed in$4$ every tenement that$6#1$ rises on$4$ its ruins; and I 103:166;09[' ]| believe that$3$ good men would generally feel this; and that$3$ having 103:166;10[' ]| spent their lives happily and honorably, they would be grieved 103:166;11[' ]| at the close of them to$9$ think that$3$ the place of their earthly 103:166;12[' ]| abode, which$6#1$ had seen, and seemed almost to$9$ sympathise in$4$ all 103:166;13[' ]| their honor, their gladness, or their suffering, ~~ that$3$ this, with 103:166;14[' ]| all the record it bare of them, and all of material things that$6#1$ they 103:166;15[' ]| had loved and ruled over, and set the stamp of themselves 103:166;16[' ]| upon$4$ ~~ was to$9$ be swept away, as soon as there was room made 103:166;17[' ]| for$4$ them in$4$ the grave; that$3$ no$2$ respect was to$9$ be shown to$4$ it, 103:166;18[' ]| no$2$ affection felt for$4$ it, no$2$ good to$9$ be drawn from it by$4$ their 103:166;19[' ]| children; that$3$ though there was a monument in$4$ the church, 103:166;20[' ]| there was no$2$ warm monument in$4$ the heart and house to$4$ them; 103:166;21[' ]| that$3$ all that$6#1$ they ever treasured was despised, and the places that$6#1$ 103:166;22[' ]| had sheltered and comforted them were dragged down to$4$ the 103:166;23[' ]| dust. I say that$3$ a good man would fear this; and that$3$, far 103:166;24[' ]| more, a good son, a noble descendant, would fear doing it to$4$ his 103:166;25[' ]| father's house. I say that$3$ if men lived like$4$ men indeed, their 103:166;26[' ]| houses would be temples ~~ temples which$6#1$ we should hardly 103:166;27[' ]| dare to$9$ injure, and in$4$ which$6#1$ it would make us holy to$9$ be permitted 103:166;28[' ]| to$9$ live; and there must be a strange dissolution of natural 103:166;29[' ]| affection, a strange unthankfulness for$4$ all that$6#1$ homes have given 103:166;30[' ]| and parents taught, a strange consciousness that$3$ we have been unfaithful 103:166;31[' ]| to$4$ our fathers' honor, or that$3$ our own lives are not such 103:166;32[' ]| as would make our dwellings sacred to$4$ our children, when each 103:166;33[' ]| man would fain build to$4$ himself, and build for$4$ the little revolution 103:166;34[' ]| of his own life only. And I look upon$4$ those pitiful concretions 103:166;35[' ]| of lime and clay which$6#1$ spring up$5$ in$4$ mildewed forwardness 103:166;36[' ]| out of the kneaded fields about our capital ~~ upon$4$ those thin, tottering, 103:166;37[' ]| foundationless shells of splintered wood and imitated 103:167;01[' ]| stone ~~ upon$4$ those gloomy rows of formalised minuteness, alike 103:167;02[' ]| without difference and without fellowship, as solitary as similar 103:167;03[' ]| ~~ not merely with the careless disgust of an offended eye, not 103:167;04[' ]| merely with sorrow for$4$ a desecrated landscape, but with a painful 103:167;05[' ]| foreboding that$3$ the roots of our national greatness must be 103:167;06[' ]| deeply cankered when they are thus loosely struck in$4$ their native 103:167;07[' ]| ground; that$3$ those comfortless and unhonored dwellings 103:167;08[' ]| are the signs of a great and spreading spirit of popular discontent; 103:167;09[' ]| that$3$ they mark the time when every man's aim is to$9$ be in$4$ some 103:167;10[' ]| more elevated sphere than his natural one, and every man's 103:167;11[' ]| past life is his habitual scorn; when men build in$4$ the hope of 103:167;12[' ]| leaving the places they have built, and live in$4$ the hope of forgetting 103:167;13[' ]| the years that$6#1$ they have lived; when the comfort, the 103:167;14[' ]| peace, the religion of home have ceased to$9$ be felt; and the 103:167;15[' ]| crowded tenements of a struggling and restless population differ 103:167;16[' ]| only from the tents of the Arab or the Gipsy by$4$ their less 103:167;17[' ]| healthy openness to$4$ the air of heaven, and less happy choice of 103:167;18[' ]| their spot of earth; by$4$ their sacrifice of liberty without the 103:167;19[' ]| gain of rest, and of stability without the luxury of change. 104:167;20[' ]| IV. This is no$2$ slight, no$2$ consequenceless evil: it is ominous, 104:167;21[' ]| infectious, and fecund of other fault and misfortune. When 104:167;22[' ]| men do not love their hearths, nor reverence their thresholds, 104:167;23[' ]| it is a sign that$3$ they have dishonored both, and that$3$ they have 104:167;24[' ]| never acknowledged the true universality of that$6#2$ Christian 104:167;25[' ]| worship which$6#1$ was indeed to$9$ supersede the idolatry, but not 104:167;26[' ]| the piety, of the pagan. Our God is a household God, as well 104:167;27[' ]| as a heavenly one; He has an altar in$4$ every man's dwelling; 104:167;28[' ]| let men look to$4$ it when they rend it lightly and pour out its 104:167;29[' ]| ashes. It is not a question of mere ocular delight, it is no$2$ 104:167;30[' ]| question of intellectual pride, or of cultivated and critical fancy, 104:167;31[' ]| how, and with what aspect of durability and of completeness, 104:167;32[' ]| the domestic buildings of a nation shall be raised. It is one of 104:167;33[' ]| those moral duties, not with more impunity to$9$ be neglected 104:167;34[' ]| because the perception of them depends on$4$ a finely toned and 104:167;35[' ]| balanced conscientiousness, to$9$ build our dwellings with care, 104:167;36[' ]| and patience, and fondness, and diligent completion, and with a 104:167;37[' ]| view to$4$ their duration at least for$4$ such a period as, in$4$ the ordinary 104:168;01[' ]| course of national revolutions, might be supposed likely to$9$ 104:168;02[' ]| extend to$4$ the entire alteration of the direction of local interests. 104:168;03[' ]| This at the least; but it would be better if, in$4$ every possible 104:168;04[' ]| instance, men built their own houses on$4$ a scale commensurate 104:168;05[' ]| rather with their condition at the commencement, than their 104:168;06[' ]| attainments at the termination, of their worldly career; and 104:168;07[' ]| built them to$9$ stand as long as human work at its strongest can 104:168;08[' ]| be hoped to$9$ stand; recording to$4$ their children what they have 104:168;09[' ]| been, and from what, if so$5#2$ it had been permitted them, they had 104:168;10[' ]| risen. And when houses are thus built, we may have that$6#2$ true 104:168;11[' ]| domestic architecture, the beginning of all other, which$6#1$ does not 104:168;12[' ]| disdain to$9$ treat with respect and thoughtfulness the small habitation 104:168;13[' ]| as well as the large, and which$6#1$ invests with the dignity of 104:168;14[' ]| contented manhood the narrowness of worldly circumstance. 105:168;15[' ]| V. I look to$4$ this spirit of honorable, proud, peaceful self-possession, 105:168;16[' ]| this abiding wisdom of contented life, as probably 105:168;17[' ]| one of the chief sources of great intellectual power in$4$ all ages, 105:168;18[' ]| and beyond dispute as the very primal source of the great architecture 105:168;19[' ]| of old Italy and France. To$4$ this day, the interest of 105:168;20[' ]| their fairest cities depends, not on$4$ the isolated richness of palaces, 105:168;21[' ]| but on$4$ the cherished and exquisite decoration of even the 105:168;22[' ]| smallest tenements of their proud periods. The most elaborate 105:168;23[' ]| piece of architecture in$4$ Venice is a small house at the head 105:168;24[' ]| of the Grand*Canal, consisting of a ground floor with two stories 105:168;25[' ]| above, three windows in$4$ the first, and two in$4$ the second. Many 105:168;26[' ]| of the most exquisite buildings are on$4$ the narrower canals, and 105:168;27[' ]| of no$2$ larger dimensions. One of the most interesting pieces of 105:168;28[' ]| fifteenth century architecture in$4$ North*Italy, is a small house 105:168;29[' ]| in$4$ a back street, behind the market-place of Vicenza; it bears 105:168;30[' ]| date 1481, and the motto, 105:168;30[Z ]| \9Il. 9n'est. 9rose. 9sans. 9e=pine\; 105:168;30[' ]| it has also 105:168;31[' ]| only a ground floor and two stories, with three windows in$4$ each, 105:168;32[' ]| separated by$4$ rich flower-work, and with balconies, supported, 105:168;33[' ]| the central one by$4$ an eagle with open wings, the lateral ones by$4$ 105:168;34[' ]| winged griffins standing on$4$ cornucopia*e. The idea that$3$ a house 105:168;35[' ]| must be large in$4$ order to$9$ be well built, is altogether of modern 105:168;36[' ]| growth, and is parallel with the idea, that$3$ no$2$ picture can be historical, 105:168;37[' ]| except of a size admitting figures larger than life. 101:145;00@@@@@| 101:145;01[' ]| 101:145;02[' ]| <1672 ~~ 1729> 101:145;03[' ]| 101:145;04[Z ]| <7Erat 7homo 7ingeniosus, 7acutus, 7acer, 7et 7qui 7plurimum 7et 7salis> 101:145;05[Z ]| <7haberet 7et 7fellis, 7nec 7candoris 7minus. ~~ PLIN. Epist.> 101:145;06[' ]| MY paper is, in$4$ a kind, a letter of news, but it regards 101:145;07[' ]| rather what passes in$4$ the world of conversation than 101:145;08[' ]| that$6#2$ of business. I am very sorry that$3$ I have at present 101:145;09[' ]| a circumstance before me, which$6#1$ is of very great importance 101:145;10[' ]| to$4$ all who$6#1$ have a relish for$4$ gaiety, wit, mirth, 101:145;11[' ]| or humour; I mean the death of poor Dick*Estcourt. 101:145;12[' ]| I have been obliged to$4$ him for$4$ so$5#1$ many hours of jollity, 101:145;13[' ]| that$3$ it is but a small recompense, though all I can 101:145;14[' ]| give him, to$9$ pass a moment or two in$4$ sadness for$4$ the 101:146;01[' ]| loss of so$5#1$ agreeable a man. Poor Estcourt! the last 101:146;02[' ]| time I saw him, we were plotting to$9$ show the town 101:146;03[' ]| his great capacity for$4$ acting in$4$ its full light, by$4$ introducing 101:146;04[' ]| him as dictating to$4$ a set of young players, in$4$ 101:146;05[' ]| what manner to$9$ speak this sentence, and utter the 101:146;06[' ]| other passion. He had so$5#1$ exquisite a discerning of 101:146;07[' ]| what was defective in$4$ any object before him, that$3$ in$4$ 101:146;08[' ]| an instant he could show you the ridiculous side of 101:146;09[' ]| what would pass for$4$ beautiful and just, even to$4$ men 101:146;10[' ]| of no$2$ ill judgment, before he had pointed at the failure. 101:146;11[' ]| He was no$2$ less skilful in$4$ the knowledge of beauty; 101:146;12[' ]| and I dare say, there is no*one who$6#1$ knew him well, 101:146;13[' ]| but can repeat more well-turned compliments, as well 101:146;14[' ]| as smart repartees of Mr%*Estcourt's, than of any other 101:146;15[' ]| man in$4$ England. This was easily to$9$ be observed in$4$ 101:146;16[' ]| his inimitable faculty of telling a story, in$4$ which$6#1$ he 101:146;17[' ]| would throw in$4$ natural and unexpected incidents to$9$ 101:146;18[' ]| make his court to$4$ one part, and rally the other part 101:146;19[' ]| of the company. Then he would vary the usage he 101:146;20[' ]| gave them, according as he saw them bear kind or 101:146;21[' ]| sharp language. He had the knack to$9$ raise up$5$ a 101:146;22[' ]| pensive temper, and mortify an impertinently gay one, 101:146;23[' ]| with the most agreeable skill imaginable. There are 101:146;24[' ]| a thousand things which$6#1$ crowd into my memory, which$6#1$ 101:146;25[' ]| make me too much concerned to$9$ tell on$5$ about him. 101:146;26[' ]| Hamlet holding up$5$ the skull which$6#1$ the gravedigger 101:146;27[' ]| threw to$4$ him, with an account that$3$ it was the head of 101:146;28[' ]| the king's jester, falls into very pleasing reflections, 101:146;29[' ]| and cries out to$4$ his companion, ""Alas, poor Yorick! 101:146;30[' ]| I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jest, of most 101:146;31[' ]| exquisite fancy; he hath borne me on$4$ his back a 101:146;32[' ]| thousand times: and now how abhorred in$4$ my imagination 101:146;33[' ]| it is! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those 101:146;34[' ]| lips that$6#1$ I have kissed I know not how oft. Where 101:146;35[' ]| be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your 101:146;36[' ]| flashes of merriment, that$6#1$ were wont to$9$ set the table 101:146;37[' ]| on$4$ a roar? not one now to$9$ mock your own grinning? 101:146;38[' ]| quite chap-fallen? Now get you to$4$ my lady's chamber, 101:146;39[' ]| and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to$4$ this favour 101:146;40[' ]| she must come. Make her laugh at that$6#2$."" 101:147;01[' ]| It is an insolence natural to$4$ the wealthy, to$9$ affix, 101:147;02[' ]| as much as in$4$ them lies, the character of a man to$4$ his 101:147;03[' ]| circumstances. Thus it is ordinary with them to$9$ 101:147;04[' ]| praise faintly the good qualities of those below them, 101:147;05[' ]| and say, It is very extraordinary in$4$ such a man as he 101:147;06[' ]| is, or the like$0$, when they are forced to$9$ acknowledge 101:147;07[' ]| the value of him whose lowness upbraids their exhaltation. 101:147;08[' ]| It is to$4$ this humour only that$6#1$ it is to$9$ be 101:147;09[' ]| ascribed, that$3$ a quick wit in$4$ conversation, a nice 101:147;10[' ]| judgment upon$4$ any emergency that$6#1$ could arise, and 101:147;11[' ]| a most blameless inoffensive behaviour, could not raise 101:147;12[' ]| this man above being received only upon$4$ the foot of 101:147;13[' ]| contributing to$4$ mirth and diversion. But he was as 101:147;14[' ]| easy under that$6#2$ condition, as a man of so$5#1$ excellent 101:147;15[' ]| talents was capable; and since they would have it, 101:147;16[' ]| that$3$ to$9$ divert was his business, he did it with all the 101:147;17[' ]| seeming alacrity imaginable, though it stung him to$4$ 101:147;18[' ]| the heart that$3$ it was his business. Men of sense, who$6#1$ 101:147;19[' ]| could taste his excellences, were well satisfied to$9$ let 101:147;20[' ]| him lead the way in$4$ conversation, and play after his 101:147;21[' ]| own manner; but fools, who$6#1$ provoked him to$4$ mimicry, 101:147;22[' ]| found he had the indignation to$9$ let it be at their expense 101:147;23[' ]| who$6#1$ called for$4$ it, and he would show the form 101:147;24[' ]| of conceited heavy fellows as jests to$4$ the company at 101:147;25[' ]| their own request, in$4$ revenge for$4$ interrupting him 101:147;26[' ]| from being a companion to$9$ put on$5$ the character of a 101:147;27[' ]| jester. 101:147;28[' ]| What was peculiarly excellent in$4$ this memorable 101:147;29[' ]| companion was, that$3$ in$4$ the accounts he gave of persons 101:147;30[' ]| and sentiments, he did not only hit the figure of 101:147;31[' ]| their faces, and manner of their gestures, but he would 101:147;32[' ]| in$4$ his narrations fall into their very way of thinking, 101:147;33[' ]| and this when he recounted passages wherein men of 101:147;34[' ]| the best wit were concerned, as well as such wherein 101:147;35[' ]| were represented men of the lowest rank of understanding. 101:147;36[' ]| It is certainly as great an instance of self-love 101:147;37[' ]| to$4$ a weakness, to$9$ be impatient of being mimicked, 101:147;38[' ]| as any can be imagined. There were none but the 101:147;39[' ]| vain, the formal, the proud, or those who$6#1$ were incapable 101:147;40[' ]| of amending their faults, that$6#1$ dreaded him; 101:148;01[' ]| to$4$ others he was in$4$ the highest degree pleasing; and 101:148;02[' ]| I do not know any satisfaction of any indifferent kind 101:148;03[' ]| I ever tasted so$5#1$ much, as having got over an impatience 101:148;04[' ]| of my seeing myself in$4$ the air he could put me when 101:148;05[' ]| I have displeased him. It is indeed to$4$ his exquisite 101:148;06[' ]| talent this way, more than any philosophy I could read 101:148;07[' ]| on$4$ the subject, that$3$ my person is very little of my 101:148;08[' ]| care, and it is indifferent to$4$ me what is said of my 101:148;09[' ]| shape, my air, my manner, my speech, or my address. 101:148;10[' ]| It is to$4$ poor Estcourt I chiefly owe that$3$ I am arrived 101:148;11[' ]| at the happiness of thinking nothing a diminution to$4$ 101:148;12[' ]| me, but what argues a depravity of my will$0$. 101:148;13[' ]| It has as much surprised me as any*thing in$4$ nature, 101:148;14[' ]| to$9$ have it frequently said, that$3$ he was not a good 101:148;15[' ]| player: but that$6#2$ must be owing to$4$ a partiality for$4$ 101:148;16[' ]| former actors in$4$ the parts in$4$ which$6#1$ he succeeded them, 101:148;17[' ]| and judging by$4$ comparison of what was liked before, 101:148;18[' ]| rather than by$4$ the nature of the thing. When a man 101:148;19[' ]| of his wit and smartness could put on$5$ an utter absence 101:148;20[' ]| of common sense in$4$ his face, as he did in$4$ the character 101:148;21[' ]| of Bullfinch in$4$ the \Northern*Lass\, and an air 101:148;22[' ]| of insipid cunning and vivacity in$4$ the character of 101:148;23[' ]| Pounce in$4$ the \Tender*Husband\, it is folly to$9$ dispute 101:148;24[' ]| his capacity and success, as he was an actor. 101:148;25[' ]| Poor Estcourt! let the vain and proud be at rest, 101:148;26[' ]| thou wilt no$2$ more disturb their admiration of their 101:148;27[' ]| dear selves; and thou art no$2$ longer to$9$ drudge in$4$ 101:148;28[' ]| raising the mirth of stupids, who$6#1$ know nothing of thy 101:148;29[' ]| merit, for$4$ thy maintenance. 101:148;30[' ]| It is natural for$4$ the generality of mankind to$9$ run 101:148;31[' ]| into reflections upon$4$ our mortality, when disturbers 101:148;32[' ]| of the world are laid at rest, but to$9$ take no$2$ notice 101:148;33[' ]| when they who$6#1$ can please and divert are pulled from 101:148;34[' ]| us. But for$4$ my part, I cannot but think the loss of 101:148;35[' ]| such talents, as the man of whom I am speaking was 101:148;36[' ]| master of, a more melancholy instance of mortality 101:148;37[' ]| than the dissolution of persons of never so$5#1$ high characters 101:148;38[' ]| in$4$ the world, whose pretensions were that$3$ they 101:148;39[' ]| were noisy and mischievous. 101:148;40[' ]| But I must grow more succinct, and, as a Spectator, 101:149;01[' ]| give an account of this extraordinary man, who$6#1$, in$4$ 101:149;02[' ]| his way, never had an equal in$4$ any age before him, 101:149;03[' ]| or in$4$ that$6#2$ wherein he lived. I speak of him as a 101:149;04[' ]| companion, and a man qualified for$4$ conversation. His 101:149;05[' ]| fortune exposed him to$4$ an obsequiousness towards the 101:149;06[' ]| worst sort of company, but his excellent qualities 101:149;07[' ]| rendered him capable of making the best figure in$4$ the 101:149;08[' ]| most refined. I have been present with him among 101:149;09[' ]| men of the most delicate taste a whole night, and have 101:149;10[' ]| known him (for$3$ he saw it was desired) keep the discourse 101:149;11[' ]| to$4$ himself the most part of it, and maintain his 101:149;12[' ]| good-humour with a countenance, in$4$ a language so$5#1$ 101:149;13[' ]| delightful, without offence to$4$ any person or thing upon$4$ 101:149;14[' ]| earth, still preserving the distance his circumstances 101:149;15[' ]| obliged him to$4$; I say, I have seen him do all this in$4$ 101:149;16[' ]| such a charming manner, that$3$ I am sure none of those 101:149;17[' ]| I hint at will$1$ read this without giving him some sorrow 101:149;18[' ]| for$4$ their abundant mirth, and one gush of tears for$4$ so$5#1$ 101:149;19[' ]| many bursts of laughter. I wish it were any honour 101:149;20[' ]| to$4$ the pleasant creature's memory, that$3$ my eyes are 101:149;21[' ]| too much suffused to$9$ let me go on$5$ ~~ <\Spectator.\> 001:033;00@@@@@| 001:033;09[' ]| 001:033;10[' ]| 001:033;11[' ]| AS the little French captain left us. 9Mons%*Dessein 001:033;12[' ]| came up$5$ with the key of the Remise in$4$ his hand, and forthwith 001:033;13[' ]| let us into his magazine of chaises. 001:033;14[' ]| The first object which$6#1$ caught my eye, as 9Mons%*Dessein 001:033;15[' ]| open'd the door of the Remise, was another old tatter'd 001:033;16[' ]| \9Desobligeant\; and notwithstanding it was the exact 001:033;17[' ]| picture of that$6#2$ which$6#1$ had hit my fancy so$5#1$ much in$4$ the 001:033;18[' ]| coach-yard but an hour before ~~ the very sight of it 001:033;19[' ]| stirr'd up$5$ a disagreeable sensation within me now; and I 001:033;20[' ]| thought it was a churlish beast into whose heart the idea 001:033;21[' ]| could first enter, to$9$ construct such a machine; nor had I 001:033;22[' ]| much more charity for$4$ the man who$6#1$ could think of using 001:033;23[' ]| it. 001:033;24[' ]| I observed the lady was as little taken with it as myself: 001:033;25[' ]| so$3$ 9Mons%*Dessein led us on$5$ to$4$ a couple of chaises 001:033;26[' ]| which$6#1$ stood abreast, telling us, as he recommended them, 001:033;27[' ]| that$3$ they had been purchased by$4$ my Lord*A% and B% to$9$ go 001:033;28[' ]| the \9grand 9tour\, but had gone no$2$ further than Paris, so$3$ 001:033;29[' ]| were in$4$ all respects as good as new ~~ They were too good 001:033;30[' ]| ~~ so$3$ I pass'd on$5$ to$4$ a third, which$6#1$ stood behind, and 001:033;31[' ]| forthwith began to$9$ chaffer for$4$ the price ~~ But it will$1$ scarce 001:033;32[' ]| hold two, said I, opening the door and getting in$5$ ~~ Have 001:033;33[' ]| the goodness, Madam, said 9Mons%*Dessein, offering his 001:033;34[' ]| arm, to$9$ step in$5$ ~~ The lady hesitated half a second, and 001:034;01[' ]| stepp'd in$5$; and the waiter that$6#2$ moment beckoning to$9$ speak 001:034;02[' ]| to$4$ 9Mons%*Dessein, he shut the door of the chaise upon$4$ us, 001:034;03[' ]| and left us. 001:034;04[' ]| 001:034;05[' ]| 001:034;06[' ]| \9C'est 9bien 9comique,\ it is very droll, said the lady 001:034;07[' ]| smiling, from the reflection that$3$ this was the second time 001:034;08[' ]| we had been left together by$4$ a parcel of nonsensical 001:034;09[' ]| contingencies ~~ \9c'est 9bein 9comique\, said she. ~~ 001:034;10[' ]| ~~ There wants nothing, said I, to$9$ make it so$5#2$, but the 001:034;11[' ]| comick use which$6#1$ the gallantry of a Frenchman would 001:034;12[' ]| put it to$9$ ~~ to$9$ make love the first moment, and an offer of 001:034;13[' ]| his person the second. 001:034;14[' ]| It is their \9fort\: replied the lady. 001:034;15[' ]| It is supposed so$5#2$ at least ~~ and how it has come to$9$ pass, 001:034;16[' ]| continued I, I know not; but they have certainly got the 001:034;17[' ]| credit of understanding more of love, and making it better 001:034;18[' ]| than any other nation upon$4$ earth: but for$4$ my own 001:034;19[' ]| part, I think them errant bunglers, and in$4$ truth the worst 001:034;20[' ]| set of marksmen that$6#1$ ever tried Cupid's patience. 001:034;21[' ]| ~~ To$9$ think of making love by$4$ \sentiments\! 001:034;22[' ]| I should as soon think of making a genteel suit of 001:034;23[' ]| cloaths out of remnants; ~~ and to$9$ do it ~~ pop ~~ at first 001:034;24[' ]| sight by$4$ declaration ~~ is submitting the offer and themselves 001:034;25[' ]| with it, to$9$ be sifted, and with all their \9pours\ and \9contres\, 001:034;26[' ]| by$4$ an unheated mind. 001:034;27[' ]| The lady attended as if she expected I should go on$5$. 001:034;28[' ]| Consider then, Madam, continued I, laying my hand 001:034;29[' ]| upon$4$ her's ~~ 001:034;30[' ]| That$3$ grave people hate Love for$4$ the name's sake ~~ 001:035;01[' ]| That$3$ selfish people hate it for$4$ their own ~~ 001:035;02[' ]| Hypocrites for$4$ heaven's ~~ 001:035;03[' ]| And that$3$ all of us, both old and young, being ten times 001:035;04[' ]| worse frighten'd than hurt by$4$ the very \9report\ ~~ 001:035;05[' ]| What a want of knowledge in$4$ this branch of commerce 001:035;06[' ]| a man betrays, whoever lets the word come out of his 001:035;07[' ]| lips, till an hour or two at least after the time, that$3$ his 001:035;08[' ]| silence upon$4$ it becomes tormenting. A course of small, 001:035;09[' ]| quiet attentions, not so$5#1$ pointed as to$9$ alarm ~~ nor so$5#1$ 001:035;10[' ]| vague as to$9$ be misunderstood, ~~ with now and then a 001:035;11[' ]| look of kindness, and little or nothing said upon$4$ it ~~ leaves 001:035;12[' ]| Nature for$4$ your mistress, and she fashions it to$4$ her 001:035;13[' ]| mind. ~~ 001:035;14[' ]| Then I solemnly declare, said the lady, blushing ~~ you 001:035;15[' ]| have been making love to$4$ me all this while. 001:035;16[' ]| 001:035;17[' ]| 001:035;18[' ]| 9MONSIEUR*Dessein came back to$9$ let us out of the 001:035;19[' ]| chaise, and acquaint the lady, the Count*de*L*** her 001:035;20[' ]| brother, was just arrived at the ho^tel. Though I had infinite 001:035;21[' ]| good-will for$4$ the lady, I cannot say, that$3$ I rejoiced 001:035;22[' ]| in$4$ my heart at the event ~~ and could not help telling her 001:035;23[' ]| so$5#2$ ~~ for$3$ it is fatal to$4$ a proposal, Madam, said I, that$3$ I 001:035;24[' ]| was going to$9$ make to$4$ you ~~ 001:035;25[' ]| ~~ You need not tell me what the proposal was, said 001:035;26[' ]| she, laying her hand upon$4$ both mine, as she interrupted 001:035;27[' ]| me. ~~ A man, my good Sir, has seldom an offer of 001:035;28[' ]| kindness to$9$ make to$4$ a woman, but she has a presentiment 001:035;29[' ]| of it some moments before. ~~ 001:035;30[' ]| Nature arms her with it, said I, for$4$ immediate preservation 001:035;31[' ]| ~~ But I think, said she, looking in$4$ my face, I had 001:036;01[' ]| no$2$ evil to$9$ apprehend ~~ and to$9$ deal frankly with you, had 001:036;02[' ]| determined to$9$ accept it. ~~ If I had ~~ (she stopp'd a 001:036;03[' ]| moment) ~~ I believe your good-will would have drawn a 001:036;04[' ]| story from me, which$6#1$ would have made pity the only dangerous 001:036;05[' ]| thing in$4$ the journey. 001:036;06[' ]| In$4$ saying this, she suffered me to$9$ kiss her hand, twice, 001:036;07[' ]| and with a look of sensibility mixed with a concern, she 001:036;08[' ]| got out of the chaise ~~ and bid adieu. 001:036;09[' ]| 001:036;10[' ]| 001:036;11[' ]| I NEVER finished a twelve-guinea bargain so$5#1$ expeditiously 001:036;12[' ]| in$4$ my life: my time seemed heavy upon$4$ the loss 001:036;13[' ]| of the lady, and knowing every moment of it would be 001:036;14[' ]| as two, till I put myself into motion ~~ I ordered post-horses 001:036;15[' ]| directly, and walked towards the hotel. 001:036;16[' ]| Lord! said I, hearing the town-clock strike four, and 001:036;17[' ]| recollecting that$3$ I had been little more than a single hour 001:036;18[' ]| in$4$ Calais ~~ 001:036;19[' ]| ~~ What a large volume of adventures may be grasped 001:036;20[' ]| within this little span of life by$4$ him who$6#1$ interests his 001:036;21[' ]| heart in$4$ every*thing, and who$6#1$ having eyes to$9$ see, what 001:036;22[' ]| time and chance are perpetually holding out to$4$ him as he 001:036;23[' ]| journeyeth on$4$ his way, misses nothing he can \fairly\ lay 001:036;24[' ]| his hands on$5$. ~~ 001:036;25[' ]| ~~ If this will$1$ not turn out something ~~ another will$1$ ~~ no$2$ 001:036;26[' ]| matter ~~ it is an assay upon$4$ human nature ~~ I get my 001:036;27[' ]| labour for$4$ my pains ~~ it is enough ~~ the pleasure of the 001:036;28[' ]| experiment has kept my senses, and the best part of my 001:036;29[' ]| blood, awake, and laid the gross to$4$ sleep. 001:036;30[' ]| I pity the man who$6#1$ can travel from \Dan\ to$4$ \Beersheba\, 001:036;31[' ]| and cry, It is all barren ~~ and so$5#2$ it is; and so$5#2$ is all the 001:036;32[' ]| world to$4$ him who$6#1$ will$1$ not cultivate the fruits it offers. I 001:037;01[' ]| declare, said I, clapping my hands chearily together, that$3$ 001:037;02[' ]| was I in$4$ a desert, I would find out wherewith in$4$ it to$9$ call 001:037;03[' ]| forth my affections ~~ If I could not do better, I would 001:037;04[' ]| fasten them upon$4$ some sweet myrtle, or seek some melancholy 001:037;05[' ]| cypress to$9$ connect myself to$4$ ~~ I would court 001:037;06[' ]| their shade, and greet them kindly for$4$ their protection ~~ 001:037;07[' ]| I would cut my name upon$4$ them, and swear they were 001:037;08[' ]| the loveliest trees throughout the desert: if their leaves 001:037;09[' ]| wither'd, I would teach myself to$9$ mourn, and when they 001:037;10[' ]| rejoiced, I would rejoice along with them. 001:037;11[' ]| The learned SMELFUNGUS travelled from Boulogne to$4$ 001:037;12[' ]| Paris ~~ from Paris to$4$ Rome ~~ and so$5#2$ on$5$ ~~ but he set out 001:037;13[' ]| with the spleen and jaundice, and every object he pass'd 001:037;14[' ]| by$5$ was discoloured or distorted ~~ He wrote an account 001:037;15[' ]| of them, but it was nothing but the account of his miserable 001:037;16[' ]| feelings. 001:037;17[' ]| I met Smelfungus in$4$ the grand portico of the Pantheon 001:037;18[' ]| ~~ he was just coming out of it. ~~ \It is nothing but a huge\ 001:037;19[' ]| \cock pit,\ said he ~~ I wish you had said nothing worse 001:037;20[' ]| of the Venus*of*Medicis, replied I ~~ for$3$ in$4$ passing through 001:037;21[' ]| Florence, I had heard he had fallen foul upon$4$ the goddess, 001:037;22[' ]| and used her worse than a common strumpet, without 001:037;23[' ]| the least provocation in$4$ nature. 001:037;24[' ]| I popp'd upon$4$ Smelfungus again at Turin, in$4$ his return 001:037;25[' ]| home; and a sad tale of sorrowful adventures he had to$9$ 001:037;26[' ]| tell, "wherein he spoke of moving accidents by$4$ flood and 001:037;27[' ]| field, and of the cannibals which$6#1$ each other eat: the 001:037;28[' ]| Anthropophagi" ~~ he had been flea'd alive, and bedevil'd, 001:037;29[' ]| and used worse than St%*Bartholomew, at every 001:037;30[' ]| stage he had come at ~~ 001:037;31[' ]| ~~ I will$1$ tell it, cried Smelfungus, to$4$ the world. You had 001:037;32[' ]| better tell it, said I, to$4$ your physician. 001:037;33[' ]| Mundungus, with an immense fortune, made the 001:037;34[' ]| whole tour; going on$5$ from Rome to$4$ Naples ~~ from Naples 001:038;01[' ]| to$4$ Venice ~~ from Venice to$4$ Vienna ~~ to$4$ Dresden, to$4$ Berlin, 001:038;02[' ]| without one generous connection or pleasurable anecdote 001:038;03[' ]| to$9$ tell of; but he had travell'd straight on$5$, looking 001:038;04[' ]| neither to$4$ his right hand or his left, lest Love or Pity 001:038;05[' ]| should seduce him out of his road. 001:038;06[' ]| Peace be to$4$ them! if it is to$9$ be found; but heaven 001:038;07[' ]| itself, was it possible to$9$ get there with such tempers, 001:038;08[' ]| would want objects to$9$ give it ~~ every gentle spirit would 001:038;09[' ]| come flying upon$4$ the wings of Love to$9$ hail their arrival 001:038;10[' ]| ~~ Nothing would the souls of Smelfungus and Mundungus 001:038;11[' ]| hear of, but fresh anthems of joy, fresh raptures 001:038;12[' ]| of love, and fresh congratulations of their common 001:038;13[' ]| felicity ~~ I heartily pity them: they have brought up$5$ no$2$ 001:038;14[' ]| faculties for$4$ this work; and was the happiest mansion in$4$ 001:038;15[' ]| heaven to$9$ be allotted to$4$ Smelfungus and Mundungus, they 001:038;16[' ]| would be so$5#1$ far from being happy, that$3$ the souls of 001:038;17[' ]| Smelfungus and Mundungus would do penance there to$4$ all 001:038;18[' ]| eternity. 001:038;19[' ]| 001:038;20[' ]| I HAD once lost my portmanteau from behind my 001:038;21[' ]| chaise, and twice got out in$4$ the rain, and one of the 001:038;22[' ]| times up$5$ to$4$ the knees in$4$ dirt, to$9$ help the postilion to$9$ tie it 001:038;23[' ]| on$5$, without being able to$9$ find out what was wanting ~~ 001:038;24[' ]| Nor was it till I got to$4$ Montriul, upon$4$ the landlord's 001:038;25[' ]| asking me if I wanted not a servant, that$3$ it occurred to$4$ 001:038;26[' ]| me, that$3$ that$6#2$ was the very thing. 001:038;27[' ]| A servant! That$6#2$ I do most sadly, quoth I ~~ Because, 001:038;28[' ]| 9Monsieur, said the landlord, there is a clever young fellow 001:038;29[' ]| who$6#1$ would be very proud of the honour to$9$ serve an 001:038;30[' ]| Englishman ~~ But why an English one, more than any 001:038;31[' ]| other? ~~ They are so$5#1$ generous, said the landlord ~~ I will$1$ 001:038;32[' ]| be shot if this is not a livre out of my pocket, quoth I 001:038;33[' ]| to$4$ myself, this very night ~~ But they have wherewithal 001:038;34[' ]| to$9$ be so$5#2$, 9Monsieur, added he ~~ Set down one livre 001:038;35[' ]| more for$4$ that$6#2$, quoth I ~~ It was but last night, said the 001:038;36[' ]| landlord, \9qu'un my 9Lord*Anglois 9presentoit 9un 9ecu 9a 9la\ 001:039;01[' ]| \9fille*de*chambre ~~ 9Tant 9pis, 9pour 9Mademoiselle*Janatone,\ 001:039;02[' ]| said I. 001:039;03[' ]| Now Janatone being the landlord's daughter, and the 001:039;04[' ]| landlord supposing I was young in$4$ French, took the liberty 001:039;05[' ]| to$9$ inform me, I should not have said \9tant 9pis\ ~~ but, 001:039;06[' ]| \9tant 9mieux. 9Tant 9mieux, 9toujours, 9Monsieur,\ said he, when 001:039;07[' ]| there is any*thing to$9$ be got ~~ \9tant 9pis\, when there is nothing. 001:039;08[' ]| It comes to$4$ the same thing, said I. \Pardonnez 9moi\, 001:039;09[' ]| said the landlord. 001:039;10[' ]| I cannot take a fitter opportunity to$9$ observe once for$4$ 001:039;11[' ]| all, that$3$ \9tant 9pis\ and \9tant 9mieux\ being two of the great 001:039;12[' ]| hinges in$4$ French conversation, a stranger would do well 001:039;13[' ]| to$9$ set himself right in$4$ the use of them, before he gets to$4$ 001:039;14[' ]| Paris. 001:039;15[' ]| A prompt French Marquis at our ambassador's table 001:039;16[' ]| demanded of Mr%*H***, if he was H*** the poet? No$7$, 001:039;17[' ]| said H*** mildly ~~ \9Tant 9pis\, replied the Marquis. 001:039;18[' ]| It is H*** the historian, said another ~~ \9Tant 9mieux\, 001:039;19[' ]| said the Marquis. And Mr%*H***, who$6#1$ is a man of an 001:039;20[' ]| excellent heart, return'd thanks for$4$ both. 001:039;21[' ]| When the landlord had set me right in$4$ this matter, he 001:039;22[' ]| called in$5$ La*Fleur, which$6#1$ was the name of the young man 001:039;23[' ]| he had spoke of ~~ saying only first, That$3$ as for$4$ his talents, 001:039;24[' ]| he would presume to$9$ say nothing ~~ 9Monsieur was the 001:039;25[' ]| best judge what would suit him; but for$4$ the fidelity of La*Fleur, 001:039;26[' ]| he would stand responsible in$4$ all he was worth. 001:039;27[' ]| The landlord delivered this in$4$ a manner which$6#1$ instantly 001:039;28[' ]| set my mind to$4$ the business I was upon$4$ ~~ and La*Fleur, 001:039;29[' ]| who$6#1$ stood waiting without, in$4$ that$6#2$ breathless expectation 001:039;30[' ]| which$6#1$ every son of nature of us have felt in$4$ our turns, 001:039;31[' ]| came in$5$. 001:040;01[' ]| 001:040;02[' ]| I AM apt to$9$ be taken with all kinds of people at first 001:040;03[' ]| sight; but never more so$5#2$, than when a poor devil comes 001:040;04[' ]| to$9$ offer his service to$4$ so$5#1$ poor a devil as myself; and as 001:040;05[' ]| I know this weakness, I always suffer my judgment to$9$ 001:040;06[' ]| draw back something on$4$ that$6#2$ very account ~~ and this 001:040;07[' ]| more or less, according to$4$ the mood I am in$4$, and the case 001:040;08[' ]| ~~ and I may add the gender too, of the person I am to$9$ 001:040;09[' ]| govern. 001:040;10[' ]| When La*Fleur enter'd the room, after every discount I 001:040;11[' ]| could make for$4$ my soul, the genuine look and air of the 001:040;12[' ]| fellow determined the matter at once in$4$ his favour; so$3$ I 001:040;13[' ]| hired him first ~~ and then began to$9$ inquire what he 001:040;14[' ]| could do: But I shall find out his talents, quoth I, as I 001:040;15[' ]| want them ~~ besides, a Frenchman can do everything. 001:040;16[' ]| Now poor La*Fleur could do nothing in$4$ the world but 001:040;17[' ]| beat a drum, and play a march or two upon$4$ the fife. I was 001:040;18[' ]| determined to$9$ make his talents do; and can not say my 001:040;19[' ]| weakness was ever so$5#1$ insulted by$4$ my wisdom, as in$4$ the 001:040;20[' ]| attempt. 001:040;21[' ]| La*Fleur had set out early in$4$ life, as gallantly as most 001:040;22[' ]| Frenchmen do, with \serving\ for$4$ a few years; at the end 001:040;23[' ]| of which$6#1$, having satisfied the sentiment, and found, moreover, 001:040;24[' ]| That$3$ the honour of beating a drum was likely to$9$ be 001:040;25[' ]| its own reward, as it open'd no$2$ further track of glory to$4$ 001:040;26[' ]| him ~~ he retired \9a` 9ses 9terres\, and lived \9comme 9il 9plaisoit\ 001:040;27[' ]| \9a` 9Dieu\ ~~ that$6#2$ is to$9$ say, upon$4$ nothing. 001:040;28[' ]| ~~ And so$3$, quoth \Wisdome\, you have hired a drummer 001:040;29[' ]| to$9$ attend you in$4$ this tour of your's through France and 001:040;30[' ]| Italy! Psha! said I, and do not one half of our gentry go 001:040;31[' ]| with a humdrum \9compagnon 9du 9voyage\ the same round, 001:040;32[' ]| and have the piper and the devil and all to$9$ pay besides? 001:040;33[' ]| When a man can extricate himself with an \9equivoque\ in$4$ 001:041;01[' ]| such an unequal match ~~ he is not ill off ~~ But you 001:041;02[' ]| can do something else, La*Fleur? said I ~~ \9O 9qu'oui!\ ~~ he 001:041;03[' ]| could make spatterdashes, and play a little upon$4$ the fiddle 001:041;04[' ]| ~~ Bravo! said Wisdome ~~ Why, I play a bass myself, 001:041;05[' ]| said I ~~ we shall do very well. You can shave, and 001:041;06[' ]| dress a wig a little, La*Fleur? ~~ He had all the dispositions 001:041;07[' ]| in$4$ the world ~~ It is enough for$4$ heaven! said I, interrupting 001:041;08[' ]| him ~~ and ought to$9$ be enough for$4$ me ~~ So$3$ supper 001:041;09[' ]| coming in$5$, and having a frisky English spaniel on$4$ one 001:041;10[' ]| side of my chair, and a French valet, with as much 001:041;11[' ]| hilarity in$4$ his countenance as ever nature painted in$4$ one, 001:041;11[' ]| on$4$ the other ~~ I was satisfied to$4$ my heart's content with 001:041;12[' ]| my empire; and if monarchs knew what they would be 001:041;13[' ]| at, they might be as satisfied as I was. 001:041;14[' ]| 001:041;15[' ]| AS La*Fleur went the whole tour of France and Italy 001:041;16[' ]| with me, and will$1$ be often upon$4$ the stage, I must interest 001:041;17[' ]| the reader a little further in$4$ his behalf, by$4$ saying, that$3$ 001:041;18[' ]| I had never less reason to$9$ repent of the impulses which$6#1$ 001:041;19[' ]| generally do determine me, than in$4$ regard to$4$ this fellow 001:041;20[' ]| ~~ he was a faithful, affectionate, simple soul as ever 001:041;21[' ]| trudged after the heels of a philosopher; and notwithstanding 001:041;22[' ]| his talents of drum-beating and spatterdashmaking, 001:041;23[' ]| which$6#1$, though very good in$4$ themselves, happen'd 001:041;24[' ]| to$9$ be of no$2$ great service to$4$ me, yet was I hourly recompensed 001:041;25[' ]| by$4$ the festivity of his temper ~~ it supplied all defects 001:041;26[' ]| ~~ I had a constant resource in$4$ his looks in$4$ all difficulties 001:041;27[' ]| and distresses of my own ~~ I was going to$9$ have 001:041;28[' ]| added, of his too, but La*Fleur was out of the reach of 001:041;29[' ]| every*thing; for$3$ whether it was hunger or thirst, or cold or 001:041;30[' ]| nakedness, or watchings, or whatever stripes of ill luck 001:041;31[' ]| La*Fleur met with in$4$ our journeyings, there was no$2$ index 001:041;32[' ]| in$4$ his physiognomy to$9$ point them out by$4$ ~~ he was eternally 001:041;33[' ]| the same; so$3$ that$3$ if I am a piece of a philosopher, 001:041;34[' ]| which$6#1$ Satan now and then puts it into my head I am ~~ 001:041;35[' ]| it always mortifies the pride of the conceit, by$4$ reflecting 001:041;36[' ]| how much I owe to$4$ the complexional philosophy of this 001:042;01[' ]| poor fellow, for$4$ shaming me into one of a better kind. 001:042;02[' ]| With all this, La*Fleur had a small cast of the coxcomb 001:042;03[' ]| ~~ but he seemed at first sight to$9$ be more a coxcomb 001:042;04[' ]| of nature than of art; and before I had been three days in$4$ 001:042;05[' ]| Paris with him ~~ he seemed to$9$ be no$2$ coxcomb at all. 001:042;06[' ]| 001:042;07[' ]| THE next morning, La*Fleur entering upon$4$ his employment, 001:042;08[' ]| I delivered to$4$ him the key of my portmanteau, 001:042;09[' ]| with an inventory of my half a dozen shirts and silk pair 001:042;10[' ]| of breeches; and bid him fasten all upon$4$ the chaise ~~ get 001:042;11[' ]| the horses put to$5$ ~~ and desire the landlord to$9$ come in$5$ 001:042;12[' ]| with his bill. 001:042;13[' ]| \9C'est 9un 9garc^on 9du 9bonne 9fortune\, said the landlord, 001:042;14[' ]| pointing through the window to$4$ half a dozen wenches 001:042;15[' ]| who$6#1$ had got round about La*Fleur, and were most kindly 001:042;16[' ]| taking their leave of him, as the postilion was leading 001:042;17[' ]| out the horses. La*Fleur kissed all their hands round and 001:042;18[' ]| round again, and thrice he wiped his eyes, and thrice he 001:042;19[' ]| promised he would bring them all pardons from Rome. 001:042;20[' ]| The young fellow, said the landlord, is beloved by$4$ all 001:042;21[' ]| the town, and there is scarce a corner in$4$ Montriul where 001:042;22[' ]| the want of him will$1$ not be felt: he has but one misfortune 001:042;23[' ]| in$4$ the world, continued he, "He is always in$4$ love." 001:042;24[' ]| ~~ I am heartily glad of it, said I ~~ it will$1$ save me the 001:042;25[' ]| trouble every night of putting my breeches under my 001:042;26[' ]| head. In$4$ saying this, I was making not so$5#1$ much La*Fleur's 001:042;27[' ]| eloge, as my own, having been in$4$ love with one princess 001:042;28[' ]| or another almost all my life, and I hope I shall go on$5$ 001:042;29[' ]| so$5#2$ till I die, being firmly persuaded, that$3$ if ever I do a 001:042;30[' ]| mean action, it must be in$4$ some interval betwixt one passion 001:042;31[' ]| and another: while this interregnum lasts, I always 001:042;32[' ]| perceive my heart locked up$5$ ~~ I can scarce find in$4$ it 001:042;33[' ]| to$9$ give Misery a sixpence, and therefore I always get 001:042;34[' ]| out of it as fast as I can; and the moment I am rekindled, 001:042;35[' ]| I am all generosity and good will$0$ again, and would do anything 001:043;01[' ]| in$4$ the world either for$4$, or with any*one, if they will$1$ 001:043;02[' ]| but satisfy me there is no$2$ sin in$4$ it. 001:043;03[' ]| ~~ But in$4$ saying this ~~ surely I am commending the passion 001:043;04[' ]| ~~ not myself. 001:043;05[' ]| 001:043;06[' ]| ~~ THE town of Abdera, notwithstanding Democritus 001:043;07[' ]| lived there trying all the powers of irony and laughter 001:043;08[' ]| to$9$ reclaim it, was the vilest and most profligate town 001:043;09[' ]| in$4$ all Thrace. What for$4$ poisons, conspiracies, and assassinations 001:043;10[' ]| ~~ libels, pasquinades, and tumults, there was no$2$ 001:043;11[' ]| going there by$4$ day ~~ it was worse by$4$ night. 001:043;12[' ]| Now, when things were at the worst, it came to$9$ pass, 001:043;13[' ]| that$3$ the Andromeda of Euripides being represented at 001:043;14[' ]| Abdera, the whole orchestra was delighted with it: but of 001:043;15[' ]| all the passages which$6#1$ delighted them, nothing operated 001:043;16[' ]| more upon$4$ their imaginations, than the tender strokes of 001:043;17[' ]| nature which$6#1$ the poet had wrought up$5$ in$4$ that$6#2$ pathetic 001:043;18[' ]| speech of Perseus, \O Cupid! prince of God and men,\ &c% 001:043;19[' ]| Every man almost spoke pure iambics the next day, 001:043;20[' ]| and talk'd of nothing but Perseus his pathetic address ~~ 001:043;21[' ]| "O cupid! prince of God and Men" ~~ in$4$ every street of 001:043;22[' ]| Abdera, in$4$ every house ~~ "O Cupid! Cupid!" ~~ in$4$ every 001:043;23[' ]| mouth, like$4$ the natural notes of some sweet melody which$6#1$ 001:043;24[' ]| drops from it whether it will$1$ nor no$5$ ~~ nothing but "Cupid! 001:043;25[' ]| Cupid! prince of God and men" ~~ The fire caught ~~ and 001:043;26[' ]| the whole city, like$4$ the heart of one man, open'd itself to$4$ 001:043;27[' ]| Love. 001:043;28[' ]| No$2$ pharmacopolist could sell one grain of helebore ~~ 001:043;29[' ]| not a single armourer had a heart to$9$ forge one instrument 001:043;30[' ]| of death ~~ Friendship and Virtue met together, and kiss'd 001:043;31[' ]| each other in$4$ the street ~~ the golden age return'd, and 001:043;32[' ]| hung over the town of Abdera ~~ every Abderite took his 001:043;33[' ]| oaten pipe, and every Abderitish woman left her purple 001:043;34[' ]| web, and chastely sat her down and listen'd to$4$ the 001:043;35[' ]| song ~~ 001:044;01[' ]| It was only in$4$ the power, says the Fragment, of the 001:044;02[' ]| God whose empire extendeth from heaven to$4$ earth, and 001:044;03[' ]| even to$4$ the depths of the sea, to$9$ have done this.