CHAPTER LVII. P. I. AN ATTEMPT IS MADE TO REMOVE THE UNPLEASANT IMPRESSION PRODUCED UPON THE LADIES BY THE DOCTOR'S TIE-WIG AND HIS SUIT OF SNUFF-COLOURED DITTOS. So full of shapes is fancy That it alone is high fantastical. TWELFTH NIGHT. I MUST not allow the feminine part of my readers to suppose that the Doctor, when in his prime of life, was not a very likeable person in appearance, as well as in every thing else, although he wore what, in the middle of the last century, was the costume of a respectable country practitioner in medicine. Though at Leyden he could only look at a Burgemeester's daughter as a cat may look at a King, there was not a Mayor or Alderman's daughter in Doncaster who would have thought herself disparaged if he had fixed his eyes upon her, and made her a proffer of his hand. Yet, as in the opinion of many dress "makes the man," and any thing which departs widely from the standard of dress, "the fellow," I must endeavour to give those young Ladies who are influenced more than they ought to be, and perhaps more than they are aware, by such an opinion, a more favourable notion of the Doctor's appearance, than they are likely to have if they bring him before their eyes in the fashion of his times. It will not assist this intention on my part, if I request you to look at him as you would look at a friend who was dressed in such a costume for a masquerade or a fancy ball; for your friend would expect and wish to be laughed at, having assumed the dress for that benevolent purpose. Well, then, let us take off the aforesaid sad snuff-colour coat with broad deep cuffs; still the waistcoat with its long flaps, and the breeches that barely reach to the knee, will provoke your merriment. We must not proceed farther in undressing him; and if I conceal these under a loose morning gown of green damask, the insuperable perriwig would still remain. Let me then present him to your imagination, setting forth on horseback in that sort of weather which no man encounters voluntarily, but which men of his profession who practise in the Country are called upon to face at all seasons and all hours. Look at him in a great coat of the closest texture that the looms of Leeds could furnish,— one of those dreadnoughts, the utility of which sets fashion at defiance. You will not observe his boot-stockings coming high above the knees; the coat covers them; and if it did not, you would be far from despising them now. His tie-wig is all but hidden under a hat, the brim of which is broad enough to answer in some degree the use of an umbrella. Look at him now, about to set off on some case of emergency; with haste in his expressive eyes, and a cast of thoughtful anxiety over one of the most benignant countenances that Nature ever impressed with the characters of good humour and good sense! Was he, then, so handsome? you say. Nay, Ladies, I know not whether you would have called him so; for, among the things which were too wonderful for him, yea, which he knew not, I suspect that Solomon might have included a woman's notion of handsomeness in man. CHAPTER LVIII. P. I. CONCERNING THE PORTRAIT OF DOCTOR DANIEL Dove. The sure traveller, Though he alight sometimes still goeth on. HERBERT. THERE is no portrait of Dr. Daniel Dove. And there Horrebow, the Natural Historian of Iceland,—if Horrebow had been his biographer-would have ended this chapter.* The author of the Doctor, &c. ; had evidently in view the end of the Laureate's Second Letter in his Vindicia Eccles. Anglic. "And with this I conclude a letter which may remind the reader of the Chapter concerning Owls in Horrebow's Natural History of Iceland." "Here perchance,”—(observe, Reader, I am speaking now in the words of the Lord Keeper, Sir Nicholas Bacon,)—“here perchance a question would be asked (and yet I do marvel to hear a question made of so plain a matter,)—what should be the cause of this? If it were asked," (still the Lord Keeper speaketh) "thus I mean to answer: That I think no man so blind but seeth it, no man so deaf but heareth it, nor no man so ignorant but understandeth it." 66 Il y a des demandes si sottes qu'on ne les sçauroit resoudre par autre moyen que par la moquerie et les absurdities; afin qu'une sottise pousse l'autre."* But some reader may ask what have I answered here, or rather what have I brought forward the great authority of the Lord Keeper Sir Nicholas Bacon and the archvituperator P. Garasse, to answer for me? Do I take it for granted that the cause wherefore there is no portrait of Dr. Daniel Dove should be thus apparent? or the reason why, there being no such portrait, Horrebow should simply have said so, and having so said, end therewith the chapter which he had commenced upon the subject. O, gentle reader, you who ask this pertinent question, I entirely agree with you! there is nothing more desirable in composition than perspicuity; and in perspicuity precision is implied. Of the Author who has attained it in his style, it may indeed be said, omne tulit punctum, so far as relates to style; for all other graces, those only excepted which only genius can impart, will necessarily follow. Nothing is so desirable, and yet it should seem that nothing is so difficult. He who thinks least about it when he is engaged in composition will be most likely to attain it, for no man ever attained it by labouring for it. Read all the treatises upon composition that ever were composed, and you will find nothing which conveys so much useful instruction as the account given by John Wesley of his own way of writing. "I never think of my style," says he; "but just set down the words that come first. GARASSE. Only when I transcribe any thing for the | press, then I think it my duty to see that every phrase be clear, pure and proper: conciseness, which is now as it were natural to me, brings quantum sufficit of strength. If after all I observe any stiff expression, I throw it out neck and shoulders." Let your words take their course freely; they will then dispose themselves in their natural order, and make your meaning plain:—that is, Mr. Author, supposing you have a meaning; and that it is not an insidious, and for that reason, a covert one. With all the head-work that there is in these volumes, and all the heart-work too, I have not bitten my nails over a single sentence which they contain. I do not say that my hand has not sometimes been passed across my brow; nor that the fingers of my left hand have not played with the hair upon my forehead, like Thalaba's with the grass that grew Oneiza's tomb. beside No people have pretended to so much precision in their language as the Turks. They have not only verbs active, passive, transitive, and reciprocal, but also verbs cooperative, verbs meditative, verbs frequentative, verbs negative, and verbs impossible; and, moreover, they have what are called verbs of opinion, and verbs of knowledge. The latter are used when the speaker means it to be understood that he speaks of his own sure knowledge, and is absolutely certain of what he asserts; the former when he advances it only as what he thinks likely, or believes upon the testimony of others. Now in the Turkish language the word whereon both the meaning and the construction of the sentence depend, is placed at the end of a sentence, which extends not unfrequently to ten, fifteen, or twenty lines. What, therefore, they might gain in accuracy by this nice distinction of verbs must be more than counterbalanced by the ambiguity consequent upon long-windedness. And, notwithstanding their conscientious moods, they are not more remarkable for veracity than their neighbours who, in ancient times, made so much use of the indefinite tenses, and were said to be always liars. We have a sect in our own country who profess to use a strict and sincere plainness of speech; they call their dialect the plain language, and yet they are notorious for making a studied precision in their words answer all the purposes of equivocation. CHAPTER LIX. P. I. SHOWING WHAT THAT QUESTION WAS, WHICH It is true I might have contented myself with merely saying there is no portrait of my venerable friend; and the benevolent reader would have been satisfied with the information, while at the same time he wished there had been one, and perhaps involuntarily sighed at thinking there was not. But I have duties to perform; first to the memory of my most dear philosopher and friend; secondly, to myself; thirdly, to posterity, which in this matter I cannot conscientiously prefer either to myself or my Chacun a son stile; le mien, comme vouz voyez, n'est pas friend; fourthly, to the benevolent reader laconique. ME. DE SEVigne'. In reporting progress upon the subject of the preceding chapter, it appears that the question asked concerning the question that was answered, was not itself answered in that chapter; so that it still remains to be explained what it was that was so obvious as to require no other answer than the answer that was there given; whether it was the reason why there is no portrait of Dr. Daniel Dove? or the reason why Horrebow, if he had been the author of this book, would simply have said that there was none, and have said nothing more about it? The question which was answered related to Horrebow. He would have said nothing more about the matter, because he would have thought there was nothing more to say; or because he agreed with Britain's old rhyming Remembrancer, that although More might be said hereof to make a proof, Yet more to say were more than is enough. But if there be readers who admire a style of such barren brevity, I must tell them in the words of Estienne Pasquier, that je fais grande conscience d'alambiquer mon esprit en telle espece d'escrite pour leur complaire. Do they take me for a Bottle-Conjurer that I am to compress myself into a quart, winemerchants' measure, and be corked down? I must have "ample room and verge enough," -a large canvass such as Haydon requires, and as Rubens required before him. When I pour out nectar for my guests it must be into a bowl Large as my capacious soul. who delighteth in this book, and consequently loveth me therefore, and whom therefore I love, though, notwithstanding here is love for love between us, we know not each other now, and never shall! fourthly, I say to the benevolent reader, or rather readers, utriusque generis; and, fifthly, to the Public for the time being. "England expects every man to do his duty;" and England's expectation would not be disappointed if every Englishman were to perform his as faithfully and fully as I will do mine. Mark me, Reader, it is only of my duties to England, and to the parties above-mentioned that I speak; other duties I am accountable for elsewhere. God forbid that I should ever speak of them in this strain, or ever think of them otherwise than in humility and fear! CHAPTER LX. P. I. SHOWING CAUSE WHY THE QUESTION WHICH Nay in troth I talk but coarsely, But I hold it comfortable for the understanding. BEAUMONT AND FLETCHer. "WHAT, more buffoonery!" says the Honourable Fastidious Feeble-wit, who condescends to act occasionally as Small Critic to the Court Journal:- "what, still more of this buffoonery!" "Yes, Sir,- — vous ne recevrez de moy, sur le commencement et milieu de celuy-cy mien chapitre que bouffonnerie; et toutesfois bouffonnerie qui porte quant à soy une philosophie et contemplation générale de la vanité de ce monde."* "More absurdities still!" says Lord Make-motion Ganderman, "more and more absurdities!" "Ay, my Lord!" as the Gracioso says in one of Calderon's Plays, sino digo lo que quiero, de que me sirve ser loco? "Ay, my Lord!" as the old Spaniard says in his national poesy, "mas, y mas, y mas, y mas," more, and more, and more, and more. You may live to learn what vaunted maxims of your political philosophy are nothing else than absurdities in masquerade; what old and exploded follies there are, which with a little vamping and varnishing pass for new and wonderful discoveries; What a world of businesses Which by interpretation are mere nothings! + This you may live to learn. As for my absurdities, they may seem very much beneath your sapience; but when I say he nuga seria ducunt, (for a trite quotation when well-set is as good as one that will be new to every body,) let me add, my Lord, that it will be well both for you and your country, if your practical absurdities do not draw after them consequences of a very different dye! No, my Lord, as well as Ay, my Lord! Never made man of woman born "More fooling," exclaims Dr. Dense: he takes off his spectacles, lays them on the table beside him, with a look of despair, and applies to the snuff-box for consolation. It is a capacious box, and the Doctor's servant takes care that his master shall never find in it a deficiency of the best rappee. "More fooling!" says that worthy Doctor. Fooling, say you, my learned Dr. Dense? Chiabrera will tell you But do you know what fooling is? true fooling,- It is easy to talk of fooling and of folly, mais d'en savoir les ordres, les rangs, les distinctions; de connoître ces différences délicates qu'il y a de Folie à Folie; les affinités et les alliances qui se trouvent entre la Sagesse et cette même Folie, as Saint Evremond says; to know this is not under every one's nightcap; and perhaps, my learned Doctor, may not be under your wig, orthodox and in full buckle as it is. The Doctor is all astonishment, and almost begins to doubt whether I am fooling in earnest. Ay, Doctor! you meet in this world with false mirth as often as with false gravity; the grinning hypocrite is not a more uncommon character than the groaning one. As much light discourse comes from a heavy heart, as from a hollow one; and from a full mind as from an empty head. "Levity," says Mr. Danby, "is sometimes a refuge from the gloom of seriousness. A man may whistle for want of thought,' or from having too much of it "Poor creature!" says the Reverend Philocalvin Frybabe. 66 Poor creature! little does he think what an account he must one day render for every idle word!" And what account, odious man, if thou art a hypocrite, and hardly less odious if thou art sincere in thine abominable creed, - what account wilt thou render for thine extempore prayers and thy set discourses? My words, idle as thou mayest deem them, will never stupify the intellect, nor harden the heart, nor besot the conscience like an opiate drug! "Such facetiousness," saith Barrow, “is not unreasonable or unlawful which ministereth harmless divertisement and delight to conversation; harmless, I say, that is, not entrenching upon piety, not infringing charity or justice, not disturbing peace. For Christianity is not so tetrical, so harsh, so BEAUMONT and FLETCHER. K envious as to bar us continually from innocent, much less from wholesome and useful pleasure, such as human life doth need or require. And if jocular discourse may serve to good purposes of this kind; if it may be apt to raise our drooping spirits, to allay our irksome cares, to whet our blunted industry, to recreate our minds, being tired and cloyed with graver occupations; if it may breed alacrity, or maintain good-humour among us; if it may conduce to sweeten conversation and endear society, then is it not inconvenient, or unprofitable. If for those ends we may use other recreations, employing on them our ears and eyes, our hands and feet, our other instruments of sense and motion; why may we not as well to them accommodate our organs of speech and interior sense? Why should those games which excite our wit and fancies be less reasonable than those whereby our grosser parts and faculties are exercised? yea, why are not those more reasonable, since they are performed in a manly way, and have in them a smack of reason; seeing also they may be so managed, as not only to divert and please, but to improve and profit the mind, rousing and quickening it, yea, sometimes enlightening and instructing it, by good sense conveyed in jocular expression." But think not that in thus producing the authority of one of the wisest and best of men, I offer any apology for my levities to your Gravityships! they need it not and you deserve it not. Questi Son fatti per dar pasto a gl' ignoranti; Le cose belle, e preziose, e care, Scoperte in man non si debbon portare Gentlemen, you have made me break the word of promise both to the eye and ear. I began this chapter with the intention of showing to the reader's entire satisfaction, ORLANDO INNAMORATO. why the question which was not asked, ought to be answered; and now another chapter must be appropriated to that matter! Many things happen between the cup and the lip, and between the beginning of a chapter and the conclusion thereof. CHAPTER LXI. P. I. WHEREIN THE QUESTION IS ANSWERED WHICH OUGHT TO HAVE BEEN ASKED. Ajutami, tu penna, et calamaio, MATTIO FRANZESI. WHEREFORE there is no portrait of my excellent friend, is a question which ought to be answered, because the solution will exhibit something of what in the words of the old drinking song he used to call his " poor way of thinking." And it is a question which may well be asked, seeing that in the circle wherein he moved, there were some persons of liberal habits and feelings as well as liberal fortune, who enjoyed his peculiarities, placed the fullest reliance upon his professional skill, appreciated most highly his moral and intellectual character, and were indeed personally attached to him in no ordinary degree. For another reason also ought this question to be resolved; a reason which whatever the reader may think, has the more weight with me, because it nearly concerns myself. "There is indeed," says the Philosopher of Bemerton, "a near relation between seriousness and wisdom, and one is a most excellent friend to the other. A man of a serious, sedate and considerate temper, as he is always in a ready disposition for meditation, (the best improvement both of knowledge and manners,) so he thinks without disturbance, enters not upon another notion till he is master of the first, and so makes clean work with it: |