Pass / / ^'^.J ■ ^ i .k Rnok .Lf: Pitt Press Series COWLEY'S PROSE WORKS CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS WAREHOUSE, C. F. CLAY, Manager. !Lonl)on: FETTER LANE, E.G. finjinburgt: loo, PRINCES STREET. Ul i.i m ^ ii} i. i Li ii ^ IJerIm: A. ASHER AND CO. Efipjig: F. A. BROCKHAUS. &tia gorli: G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS. Bombag anU Calcutta: MACMILLAN AND CO., Lra \_A/l Riokts reserved] A^,?AHAN COWLEY PROSE WORKS EDITED WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES BY J. RAWSON LUMBY, D.D. CAMBRIDGE AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS 1909 'b'A^ Firsi Edition 1887. Reprinted 1891, 1902, 1909. ^'^ :. CONTENTS. PAGE Intioductory Notice of Cowley and his Works . . vii — xx A Proposition for the Advancement of Experimental Philosophy . . . . . • . . . i — 19 A Discourse by way of Vision concerning the Go\'ernment of Oliver Cromwell ...... 20 — 64 Essays (I. — XL) ' , . 65—177 Preface to 'Cutter of Coleman Street ' . , , . 178 — 185 Notes . c . 187 — 244 Index . 245—248 L. C. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF COWLEY. Abraham Cowley, the son of Thomas Cowley ^ a citizen of London, was born in 1618. The father died before his boy's birth, so that he was brought up by a widowed mother. Of her character he speaks most affectionately in his Essays^. He appears to have been tenderly cared for also by his godfather ; to whom in the Sylva, a collection of the poems of his early years, he writes : ' I'm glad that city to whom I ow'd before (But ah me! Fate hath crest that willing score:) A father, gave me a godfather too, And I'm more glad because it gave me you, Whom I may rightly think and term to be Of the whole city an epitome^.' Cowley's was no eventful life, and it is possible from his writings to make such a notice of him as it is proposed to give largely autobiographical. He describes in the essay already quoted his shy and retiring manner which led him to steal away from his school- fellows into the fields, with a book for his company. The books of his choice however were not dry schoolbooks, for ^ Dr Johnson, following Wood, says the father was a grocer and that the omission of his name in the register of St Dunstan's parish gives reason to suspect that he was a sectary. ^ See p. 170. ^ Sylva, p. 46. For convenience of reference all the quotations are made from the collected edition of Cowley's works 1684. b2 viii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. by no persuasions (he says) or encouragements could he be induced to commit to memory the common rules of grammar. Reading and observation however gave him the power of doing the requisite school-exercises to the satisfaction of his teachers. He ascribes his first attraction to poetry to the study of a copy of Spenser's poems which lay in his mother's parlour, unused by her, but a treasure of interest for her young son, who was charmed with the tales of knights and giants and monsters and brave houses scattered all through the Faby Queen. The study of such literature led to early attempts at verse-writing, and Pirarnus and Thisbe^ followed by Con- stantia and Philetiis. attest the mental food on which Cowley had been reared. The latter of these youthful productions was dedicated to the Dean of Westminster, to whom he says ' I hope your nobleness will rather smile at the faults com- mitted by a child than censure them.' The Pirarnus and Thisbe had been inscribed to Mr Lambert Osbolston, then Headmaster of Westminster, where Cowley was being educated, as ' the earliest offering of his grateful pen.' Cowley retained much regard and many pleasant memo- ries of his school-life, as we can see from a poem on the death of Mr Jordan, who was second Master at Westminster. Of him he says, 'And though he taught but boys, he made them men.' And again, ' So true, so faithful and so just as he Was nought on earth, but his own memorie.' During these school-days Cowley produced an English play, with the title 'Love's Riddle, a Pastoral Comedy.' This, on its publication at a later time (1638) he dedicated (for nothing passed in those days without a dedication) ' to the truly worthy and noble. Sir Kenelm Digby, Knight,' and makes allusion in so doing to the learned as well as to the martial fame of Sir Kenelm : ' Learning by right of conquest is your own, And every liberal art your captive grown.' At a later period these boyish productions were reprinted, BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. ix and in his address 'To the reader' Cowley then says 'I 'should not be angry to see any one burn my Piramus and 'Thisbe, nay I would do it myself, but that I hope a pardon 'may easily be gotten for the errors of ten years of age. My 'Constantia and Philetus confesseth me two years older 'when I writ it/ In the 3rd edition there were added to the above-named longer poems a collection of shorter pieces under the title of Sylva. Among these one is addressed to a former school- fellow, named Nichols, who had preceded Cowley to the University, and had sent him an invitation to visit him in Cambridge. Cowley's reply looks forward to a time when he would himself come into residence : ' 'Tis my chief wish to live with thee, But not till I deserve thy company : Till then we'll scorn to let that toy, Some forty miles, divide our hearts : Write to me and I shall enjoy Friendship and wit, thy better parts.' But in the few notices which we have of Cowley's college life we find no further mention of Nichols. It was in 1637 that Cowley entered Trinity College, Cam- bridge, as a Westminster scholar. He took the oath and was admitted on the 14th of June in that year. In due course he became a Fellow of the College, and his admission to a Minor fellowship is dated Oct. 30th, 1640. There is no record of his admission as a major Fellow, and it is probable that in those troublous times he was obliged to leave Cam- bridge without proceeding to a full degree. In the list of major Fellows where his name should have appeared, as it had stood before in the other lists between those of Humphry Babington and William Croyden, it is absent. Cowley alludes to the public troubles as the reason why he left Cam- bridge, in the dedicatory Latin elegy prefixed to his col- lected works. Addressing his Alma Mater, he writes ' Scis bene, scis quae me lempestas publica mundi Raptatrix vestro sustulit e gremio.' X BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. And testifies to the love which he had for Cambridge thus : * O mihi jucundum Grantae super omnia nomen ! O penitus toto corde receptus amor ! ' We have not to wait long after the commencement of his residence before we come upon signs of the poet's literary activity. On the 2nd of February, 1638, there was performed in Trinity College a Latin Comedy written by Cowley, entitled Nanfragiitui Joculare^ the scene of which is laid at Dunkirk. Dr Comber, Dean of Carlisle, was then Master of Trinity, and to him the play was dedicated, and in the closing lines of the Latin verses in which it is presented, the writer allows himself to look forward to a fellowship in the future and promises by that time to produce something better. ' Collegii nam qui nostri dedit ista scholaris, Si socius tandem sit, meliora dabit.' On another occasion also during his residence at Cam- bridge Cowley's dramatic power was exhibited, but this time in English. In March 164^, Charles Prince of Wales (after- wards Charles IL), being then somewhat less than 12 years of age, visited the University, the king his father also passing through on his way to Huntingdon. For the entertainment of the young prince a play was hastily arranged ^ This was The Guafdian, which Cowley afterwards remodelled and published as Cuttei' of Coleman Street. In the prologue, addressed to the prince, the author alludes to the hurried way in which it had been produced. ' Accept our hasty zeal ; a thing that's play'd Ere 'tis a play, and acted ere 'tis made.' ^ In the books of Trinity College among dae 'Extraordinaries' for 1642 is the entry 'To M"" Willis for D^ Cooley's Comoedy £()^. i6j.' The spelling 'Cooley' occurs more than once in the College books. Cf. 'Cooper' and 'Cowper.' For the particulars in this sketch which are derived from the Trinity College records I am indebted to the kindness of Mr W. Aldis Wright, Fellow and Senior Bursar of the College. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. xi And in the Epilogue, expressing a doubt whether the 'Great Sir' (of eleven years) before whom it had been pre- sented would approve, he says : ' Though it should fall beneath your mortal scorn, Scarce could it die more quickly than 'twas born.' A letter is preserved^ which gives us some notice of this royal entertainment. The writer was Joseph Beaumont, afterwards Master of Peterhouse, and of the play he tells us : 'From the Regenthouse his Highness (Prince Charles) 'went to Trinity College, where after dinner he saw a 'Comedy in English and gave all signs of great acceptance 'which he could, and more than the University dared expect.' The later history of this play is given in the preface which is here reprinted^ after the Essays. Of the friends whom Cowley made in Cambridge we do not know much, and perhaps the retiring manner of his boy- hood did not leave him when he entered the University. Yet over the death of one Mr William Harvey he has left us a lamentation which, if it be marked by some of those con- ceits which were deemed essential to poetry in his day, is yet very full of feeling. ' He was my friend, the truest friend on earth,' he wrote ; and again ' Ye fields of Cambridge, our dear Cambridge, say, Have ye not seen us walking every day? Was there a tree about which did not know The love betwixt us two. Henceforth, ye gentle trees, for ever fade Or your sad branches thicker join And into darksome shades combine ; Dark as the grave wherein my friend is laid.' It was by Mr John Harvey, the brother of this friend, that Cowley was subsequently introduced^ to Henry Jermyn, ^ See Cooper's Annals of Cambridge, Vol. ill. ■^i\. ^ See pp. 1 78 seqq. ^ Wood {Athen. Oxon.) says it was Dr Stephen Goffe, a brother of the Oratory, who commended Cowley to Jermyn. xii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. afterwards Baron Jermyn, and subsequently Earl of St Alban's, an introduction which affected the whole future course of Cowley's life. Another friend made in Cowley's university life was Richard Crashaw, the poet. He was a little senior to Cowley, having been elected from Pembroke Hall to a fellowship at Peterhouse in the year in which Cowley came up. Crashaw during the troublous times was, like Cowley, ejected from his fellowship and subsequently joined the Church of Rome. For some time he lived in Italy as secretary to Cardinal Palotta and was eventually made Canon of the church at Loretto, but soon after died of a fever. Cowley wrote a poem on his death which testifies to the warm attachment that existed between the two and deserves to be ranked among the best of Cowley's verses. In one passage he compares himself to Elisha and his friend to Elijah, and continues, ' I^o here I beg (I whom thou once didst prove So humble to esteem, so good to love,) Not that thy spirit might on me doubled be, I ask but half thy mighty spirit for me ; And when my muse soars with so strong a wing, 'Twill learn of things divine, and first of thee to sing.' The allusion to Crashaw's change of religion is extremely tender and full of charity : ' Pardon, my mother Church, if I consent That angels led him when from thee he went ; For even in error sure no danger is When joined witli so much piety as his. His faith perhaps in some nice tenents might Be wrong: his life, I'm sure, was in the right. And I myself a Catliolick will be, So far at least, great saint, to pray to thee.' Concerning other Cambridge friends of Cowley's we have no record. The books of Trinity College shew that he was admitted and sworn as a minor Fellow on the 30th of October, 1640. But though admitted there cannot have BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. xiii been a fellowship vacant for him^, since in 1642 his name appears still among the Scholars, and similarly in 1643, though in that year he stands first in the list. Early in the next year (Feb. 5, 164!) came the commission of the Earl of Manchester 'to take special care that the solemn League and Covenant be tendered and taken in the University of Cambridge,' which resulted in almost universal ejection of Masters and Fellows. Cowley, and with him Humphry Babington, was among the ejected members of Trinity College, and if Dr Sprat's statement be correct^ that he Svas absent from his native country above 12 years,' he must have gone from Cambridge to Oxford at once and begun that attendance on Baron Jermyn-^ which lasted till 1656. It was in 1644 that, after the birth of a daughter at Exeter, queen Henrietta Maria was helped by the vessels of the Prince of Orange to cross from Falmouth into France, and Cowley's service appears to have kept him constantly with the queen, on whom Jermyn was perpetually attendant. In 1648 Clarendon (x. 175) describes the position of Jermyn as her Majesty's chief officer, and it was in this period that Cowley was so largely employed in cyphering and decyphering* with his own hand ^ It was allowed at that time, as it now is under the new Statutes, to elect to fellowships even when there was no vacancy, the elected persons undertaking to naake no claim till the number of fellows was sufficiently reduced to admit them to a dividend. Thus Babington, Ti-avis, Campian, Culverwell and Burton signed an en- gagement on March 21, 1641 not to 'claim any profitts of our fellowships till places fall that we come into numbers.' 2 Wood says about 10 years. He also tells us that on going from Cambridge Cowley settled in St John's College, Oxford. During the year 1643, while resident in Oxford, he published under the name of 'an Oxford Scholar' a satire called 'the Puritan and the Papist,' but this he never included among his acknowledged writings. ^ Mr Jermyn was made a Baron in 1643. See Clarendon vii. 242. * Clarendon (x. 22) speaks of a letter from the king which was decyphered by the Lord Jermyn, a task probably performed by the poet, who then {1646) had been about two years in Paris. xiv BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. the letters which passed between their Majesties that for some years together the labour of this correspondence took up all his days and two or three nights every week. These duties continued after the execution of Charles I., and were only brought to an end when Charles II. left the queen in France and departed to the Low Countries. Then apparently in 1656 Cowley returned to England and was presently arrested in mistake for some other person, and only released from custody on the security of Dr Scar- borough ^ who was his bail for ;^iooo. It was during his residence in France that most of those Poems which he entitles 'The Mistress' must have been written, for they were separately published in 1647 and included in the collected poems which he put forth soon after his return to England. The occasion of that collection is best told in his own words, 'At my return lately into England I met by great 'accident (for such I account it to be that any copy of it 'should be extant anywhere so long, unless at his house 'who printed it) a book intituled 'The Iron Age' and published 'under my name during the time of my absence. I wondered 'very much how one who could be so foolish to write so 'ill verses should yet be so wise to set them forth as another 'man's rather than his own : though perhaps he might 'have made a better choice, and not fathered the bastard 'upon such a person whose stock of reputation is, I fear, 'little enough for maintenance of his own numerous legiti- 'mate offspring of that kind.' In the preface from which the above is an extract Cowley complains of 'the publication of some things of his without 'his consent or knowledge, and those so mangled and im- * perfect that he could neither with honour acknowledge nor 'with honesty quite disavow them.' To such treatment his Comedy The Guardian had been subjected, and the conduct of others towards his writings is pleaded as the reason for the ^ To the celebration of Dr Scarborough's skill in medicine Cowley devotes one of his 'Pindarique Odes' (p. 35). BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. xv appearance of the volume. In this Preface the poet states that his desire has been for some years past, and does still vehemently continue, to retire himself to some of the American plantations, and to bury himself there in some obscure retreat. The contents of the volume, in the preface to which Cowley thus relates a part of his history and intentions, are (i) 'The Miscellanies,' some of which he says were 'made 'when I was very young, which it is perhaps superfluous to 'tell the reader.' (2) 'The Mistress' or 'Love Verses,' written because 'so it is that poets are scarce thought free-men of 'their company, without paying some duties, and obliging 'themselves to be true to Love.' Most assuredly, however, it would be difficult to point to any other verses on the same subject, with less fire in them. (3) Next follow the 'Pin- darique Odes,' of whose versification the poet tells us 'the 'numbers are various and irregular, and sometimes seem 'harsh and uncouth if the just measures and cadencies be 'not observed in the pronunciation. So that almost all their 'sweetness... lies wholly at the mercy of the reader.' In one of these Odes, Cowley describes the style thus^ : ' 'Tis an unruly and a hard-mouth'd horse, Fierce and unbroken yet, Impatient of the spur or bit. Now praunces stately, and anon flies o'er the place. Disdains the servile law of any settled pace, Conscious and proud of his own natural force, 'Twill no unskilful touch endure, But flings writer and reader too that sits not sure.' of which last remark any one will surely find the truth who tries to read them. The last portion of the volume was (4) 'The Davideis,' or an heroical poem of the troubles of David, of which only 4 books, out of 12 which Cowley designed to write, are completed in English and Latin. The history is carried down only to i Sam. xv. 3. Dr Sprat says ^ ' Pindarique Odes,' p. 22. xvi BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. that Cowley had finished the greatest part of this poem while he was yet a young student at Cambridge. Besides the Essays and other Prose pieces here printed, Cowley published (i) a Collection of Verses written on several occasions, which are interesting as throwing light upon his life, and which will be alluded to hereafter, and (2) in Latin, Six Books of Plants. The last-named work was the result of his application to the study of physic, to which he turned his attention when he had come back to England, in order to dissemble the main intention of his coming, which was, as it seems, to be at hand to give notice to the Queen mother and Charles II. of the condition of matters in this country. Accordingly we find Cowley incorporated in the University of Oxford (Dec. 2, 1657) as Doctor of Physic ^ In that year he had acted as best man to George Villiers, duke of Buckingham, when he was married to the daughter of General Fairfax, and the duke proved himself to the end of Cowley's life to be a firm friend. After the death of Cromwell^ Cowley went over to France once more and remained there almost till the Restoration. In 1660 he wrote his 'Ode upon His Majesty's Restauration and Return,' in which he proceeds to most astounding lengths in his flattery of the Royal family. This is the fashion of his strain : ' He who had seen how by the power divine All the young branches of this royal line Did in their fire without consuming shine: How through a rough Red sea they had been led, By wonders guarded and by wonders fed ; How many years of trouble and distress They'd wander'd in their fatal wilderness, And yet did never murmur or repine, * See Wood, Fasti Oxonienses. It is said that this degree was granted him because he complied with some of the men in power, and that this submission was much taken notice of by the royal party. 2 He is said by Wood to have made a copy of verses on Oliver's death, but these are not among his published works. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH, xvii Might (methinks) plainly understand, That after all these conquered trials past The almighty Mercy would at last Conduct them with a strong unerring hand To their own promised land.' Charles and his brothers he compares to the three youths in the furnace of Nebuchadnezzar, and their two sisters to angels who bear them company, and adds, with what sounds to modern ears like gross profanity : ' Less favour to those three of old was shewn, To solace with their company The fiery trials of adversity, Two angels join with these, the others had but one.' And in like manner addressing the restored king, he says 'Come mighty Charles, desire of nations, come.' And of the Oueen mother : ' Where's now the royal mother, where, To take her mighty share In this so ravishing sight And with the part she takes to add to the delight? Ah! why art thou not here. Thou always best and now the happiest queen, To see our joy and with new joy be seen?' In this same year, steps had been taken for restoring Cowley to his fellowship at Trinity.^ In the Admission Book under the date of Febr. ii, 1660, it is entered: "Whereas we received a Letter from his Ma'^ dated the last of January in the behalfe of M"" Abraham Cowley Fellow of Trinity Colledge, for the continuance of his seven years before taking holy Orders, in regard of his being eiected immediately after his taking degree of Master of Ars, in those troublesome Times, we have thought it good to record this in our conclusion book, that it may be considered as a special case, and so his Ma*y makes it expressly in his Lettres, and not to be drawn hereafter into example. H. Ferne." xviii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. And so Cowley was restored as Dr Cowley, and not required to take orders, though for 1660 he received no dividend. His payments commence in 1661, and for that year and the next he is described as Mr Cowley, afterwards from 1663 to the third quarter of 1667 he is entered as Dr Cowley. Thus he held his fellowship up to the time of his death. After his long services to the Royal family Cowley was not unlikely to expect some recognition of a larger kind than the royal letters that he should be restored to his fellowship. The Mastership of the Savoy was said to have been promised to him both by Charles I. and Charles II., but the promise, like so many others from the same lips, was never fulfilled. Cowley felt this neglect, and gave utterance to it in 'The Complaint,' where he pictures himself *the melancholy Cowley^ lying in the shade 'where reverend Cam cuts out his famous way.' Here the muse appears to him and rebukes him for deserting her^: 'Thou changeling, thou, bewitched with noise and show, Would'st into courts and cities from me go.' And after further reproaches she taunts him with the foolish gains which are all he has come to for quitting her : ' The sovereign is tost at sea no more And thou with all the noble company Art got at last to shore. But whilst thy fellow-voyagers I see All march'd up to possess the promised land, Thou still alone (alas) dost gaping stand Upon the naked beach, upon the barren sand.' And she compares his case to one of Gideon's miracles, where all around 'with pearly dew was crowned, and nothing but the Muses' fleece was dry.' His expectations are Hkened to Rachel, served for with faith and labour for twice seven years and more, but at last given to another. And the Muse concludes her speech with, * Thou, to whose share so litde bread did fall, In the miraculous year when manna rained on all.' ^ See 'Verses written on several occasions,' p. 28. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. xix Cowley in his reply confesses that he has been wrong in acting only as a demi-votary, and not giving himself wholly to poetry. And then with his usual fondness for Biblical language and similes he adds, 'Thus with Sapphira and her husband's fate, {A fault which I like them am taught too late,) For all that I gave up I nothing gain, And perish for the part that I retain.' But clearly at this time he had not lost all hope of recom- pense, for he adds that he ought to be accurst if he were not content to wait on the king's will, when Charles had so cheerfully depended on that of his great Sovereign. And he closes, 'Kings have long hands (they say), and though I be So distant, they may reach at length to me.' A hope doomed to disappointment. For Charles was content to discharge his debt by saying after the poet's death, ' Mr Cowley has not left behind him a better man in England.' It is said that the royal displeasure had been incurred by Cowley's poem on ' Brutus^.' An attempt had also been made, as will be seen from the preface to Cutter' of Coletmui Street^ to turn that comedy into a ground of disfavour, though as the author well observes it would have been the height of folly in one who had clung to the Royal house in adversity to write anything to their offence after the Restoration. Through the friendship of Lord Jermyn (created by Chas. II. in 1660 Earl of St Alban's) and of the Duke of Buckingham Cowley obtained a favourable lease of some of the queen's lands, and thus was raised above want, and left at liberty to follow his poetic and scientific tastes. To science he gave up much of his time and thought, as will be seen from his Proposal for a College of Natural Philo- ^ See ' Pindarique Odes,' p. 33. The poem begins : * Excellent Brutus, of all humane race the best,' and such praise of such a cha- racter was said to be distasteful to Royalty. XX BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. sophy. In 1663, when the Royal Society, founded a few years before, was by charter constituted a body political and corporate under the title of the 'President, Council and Fellows of the Royal Society of London for improving Natural Knowledge,' Dr Cowley appears among its first list of members. At the close of the fifth year of the Society's existence he sings its praises in verse, and compares its early progress to that of the infant Hercules : 'None e'er but Hercules and you would be At five years age worthy a historic^.' In these years of expectation and disappointment Cowley wrote his Essays, in which he displays a naturalness and purity of style far beyond what is found in his poetry. Had his life been spared it is said that he intended to have added to their number, and to have dedicated his work to the Earl of St Alban's. He died, however, in his forty- ninth year, July 28, 1667. After his retirement from public life he had made his home on the banks of the Thames, first at Barn-Elms and afterwards at Chertsey, where the Porch- house, though enlarged and changed in character, is marked with an inscription as Cowley's former home. He was buried 3rd Aug. 1667 in Westminster Abbey, near Chaucer and Spenser, to whom he attributes his first inspiration. His body had been brought to Wallingford House, near Whitehall, the London residence of the Duke of Buckingham, who in 1675 at his own charges erected the monument to Cowley in Westminster Abbey. An entry in the books of Trinity College, two years after his death, among the 'Extraordinaries,' shews that the poet had re- tained to the last his affection for his college, though it is not easy to understand why the payment recorded had to be made : 'To Mr Alestry for books given by Dr Cowley to the Library, ^51.' ^ ' Verses written on several occasions,' p. 43. A PROPOSITION FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF EXPERIMENTAL PHILOSOPHY. The Preface. LL knowledge must either be of God, or of his Creatures, that is, of nature; the first is called from the object, Divinity ; the latter, Natural philosophy, and is divided into the contemplation of the immediate or mediate creatures 5 of God, that is, the Creatures of his Creature man. Of this latter kind are all arts for the use of humane life, which are thus again divided : Some are purely humane, or made by man alone, and as it were intirely spun out of himself, without relation to other creatures, 10 such are Grammar and Logick to improve his natural qualities of internal and external speech; as likewise Rhetorick and Politicks (or Law) to fulfill and exalt his natural inclination to society. Other are mixt, and are man's creatures no otherwise then by the result 15 which he eftects by conjunction and application of the creatures of God. Of these parts of philosophy that which treats of God Almighty (properly called L. c. I 2 THE PREFACE. Divinity) which is ahiiost only to be sought out of his revealed will, and therefore requires only the diligent and pious study of that, and of the best interpreters upon it; and that part which I call purely humane, 5 depending solely upon memory and wit, that is, reading and invention, are both excellently well provided for by the constitution of our Universities. But the two other parts, the inquisition into the nature of God's creatures, and the application of them to humane uses (especially lo the latter) seem to be very slenderly provided for, or rather almost totally neglected, except onely some small assistances to Physick, and the Mathematicks. And therefore the founders of our Colledges have taken ample care to supply the students with multitude of books, 15 and to appoint tutors and frequent exercises, the one to interpret, and the other to confirm their reading, as also to afford them sufficient plenty and leisure for the opportunities of their private study, that the beams which they receive by lecture, may be doubled by reflections of 20 their own wit. But towards the observation and applica- tion, as I said, of the creatures themselves, they have allowed no instruments, materials or conveniences. Partly, because the necessary expence thereof is much greater then of the other ; and partly from that idle and 25 pernicious opinion which had long possest the world, that all things to be searcht in nature had been already found and discovered by the ancients, and that it were a folly to travel about for that which others had before brought home. And the great importer of all truths they 30 took to be Aristotle, as if (as Macrobius speaks foolishly of Hippocrates) he could neither deceive nor be deceived, or as if there had been not only no lies in him, but all verities. O true philosophers in one sence! and con- tented with a very little ! Not that I would disparage the THE PREFACE. 3 admirable wit and worthy labours of many of the ancients, much . less of Aristotle, the most eminent among them ; but it were madness to imagine that the cisterns of men should afford us as much, and as whole- some waters, as the fountains of nature. As we under- 5 stand the manners of men by conversation among them, and not by reading romances, the same is our case in the true apprehension and judgement of things. And no man can hope to make himself as rich by stealing out of others trunks, as he might by opening and digging of 10 new mines. If he conceive that all are already exhausted, let him consider that many lazily thought so hundred years ago, and yet nevertheless since that time whole regions of art have been discovered, which the ancients as little dreamt of as they did of America. There is yet 15 many a terra incognita behind to exercise our diHgence, and let us exercise it never so much, we shall leave work enough too for our posterity. This therefore being laid down as a certain foundation, that we must not content ourselves with that inheritance 20 of knowledge which is left us by the labour and bounty of our ancestors, but seek to improve those very grounds and adde to them new and greater purchases ; it remains to be considered by what means we are most likely to attain the ends of this vertuous covetousness. 25 And certainly the solitary and unactive contemplation of nature, by the most ingenious persons living, in their own private studies, can never effect it. Our reasoning faculty as well as fancy does but dream, when it is not guided by sensible objects. We shall compound where 30 nature has divided, and divide where nature has com- pounded, and create nothing but either deformed mon- sters, or at best pretty but impossible mermaids. 'Tis like painting by memory and imagination which can I — 2 4 THE PREFACE. never produce a picture to the life. Many persons of admirable abilities (if they had been wisely managed and profitably employed) have spent their whole time and diligence in commentating upon Aristotle's philosophy, 5 who could never go beyond him, because their design was only to follow, not grasp, or lay hold on, or so much as touch nature, because they catcht only at the shadow of her in their own brains. And therefore we see that for above a thousand years together nothing almost of lo ornament or advantage was added to the uses of humane society, except only guns and printing, whereas since the industry of men has ventured to go abroad, out of books and out of themselves, and to work among God's creatures, instead of playing among their own, every age IS has abounded with excellent inventions, and every year perhaps might do so, if a considerable number of select persons were set apart, and well directed, and plentifully provided for the search of them. But our Universities having been founded in those former times that I com- 20 plain of, it is no wonder if they be defective in their constitution as to this way of learning, which was not then thought on. For the supplying of which defect it is humbly pro- posed to his sacred Majesty, his most honourable par- 25 liament, and Privy Council, and to all such of his subjects as are wiUing and able to contribute any thing towards the advancement of real and useful learning, that by their authority, encouragement, patronage and bounty, a philosophical Colledge may be erected, after this ensuing, 30 or some such like model. THE COLLEDGE. The Colledge. That the philosophical colledge be situated within one, two or (at farthest) three miles of London \ and, if it be possible to find that convenience, upon the side of the river, or very near it. That the revenue of this colledge amount to four thou- 5 sand a year. That the company received into it be as follows : I. Twenty philosophers or professors. 2. Sixteen young scholars, servants to the professors. 3. A chap- lain. 4. A baily for the revenue. 5. A manciple or 10 purveyor for the provisions of the house. 6. Two gar- deners. 7. A master- cook. 8. An under-cook. 9. A butler. 10. An under-butier. 11. A chirurgeon. 12. Two lungs, or chymical servants. 13. A library-keeper, who is likewise to be apothecary, druggest, and keeper of 15 instruments, engines, &c. 14. An officer, to feed and take care of all beast, fowl, &c. kept by the colledge. 15. A groom of the stable. 16. A messenger, to send up and down for all uses of the colledge. 17. Four old women, to tend the chambers, keep the house clean, and 20 such like services. That the annual allowance for this company be as follows : I. To every professor, and to the chaplain, one hundred and twenty pounds. 2. To the sixteen scholars 25 twenty pounds apiece, ten pounds for their diet, and ten pounds for their entertainment. 3. To the baily, thirty pounds, besides allowance for his journeys. 4. To the purveyor, or manciple, thirty pounds. 5. To each of the gardeners, twenty pounds. 6. To the master-cook, twenty 30 6 THE COLLEDGE. pounds. 7. To the under-cook, four pounds. 8. To the butler, ten pounds. 9. To the under-butler, four pounds. 10. To the chirurgeon, thirty pounds. 11. To the library-keeper, thirty pounds. 12. To each of the lungs, 5 twelve pounds. 13. To the keeper of the beasts, six pounds. 14. To the groom, five pounds. 15. To the messenger, twelve pounds. 16. To the four necessary women, ten pounds. For the manciples table at which all the servants of the house are to eat, except the 10 scholars, one hundred sixty pounds. For three horses for the service of the colledge, thirty pounds. All which amounts to three thousand two hundred eighty-five pounds. So that there remains for keeping of the house and gardens, and operatories, and instru- 15 ments and animals, and experiments of all sorts, and all other expences, seven hundred and fifteen pounds. Which were a very inconsiderable sum for the great uses to which it is designed, but that I conceive the industry of the colledge will, in a short time, so enrich 20 itself, as to get a far better stock for the advance and inlargement of the work when it is once begun: neither is the continuance of particular men's liberality to be despaired of, when it shall be encouraged by the sight of that publick benefit which will accrue to all mankind, 25 and chiefly to our nation, by this foundation. Some- thing likewise will arise from leases and other casualties; that nothing of which may be diverted to the private gain of the professors, or any other use besides that of the search of nature, and by it the general good of the 30 world, and that care may be taken for the certain per- formance of all things ordained by the institution, as likewise for the protection and encouragement of the company, it is proposed : That some person of eminent quality, a lover of solid THE COLLED GE. 7 learning, and no stranger in it, be chosen chancellor or president of the colledge; and that eight governors more, men qualified in the like manner, be joyned with him, two of which shall yearly be appointed visitors of the colledge, and receive an exact account of all expences 5 even to the smallest, and of the true estate of their publick treasure, under the hands and oaths of the pro- fessors resident. That the choice of the professors in any vacancy belong to the chancellor and the governours; but that the 10 professors (who are likeUest to know what men of the nation are most proper for the duties of their society) direct their choice by recommending two or three persons to them at every election. And that, if any learned person within his majesties dominions discover, or 15 eminently improve, any useful kind of knowledge, he may upon that ground, for his reward and the encourage- ment of others, be preferr'd, if he pretend to the place, before any body else. That the governours have power to turn out any pro- 20 fessor, who shall be proved to be either scandalous or unprofitable to the society. That the colledge be built after this, or some such manner : That it consist of three fair quadrangular courts, and three large grounds, inclosed with good walls 25 behind them. That the first court be built with a fair cloyster: and the professors' lodgings, or rather little houses, four on each side, at some distance from one another, and with little gardens behind them, just after the manner of the Chartreux beyond sea. That the in- 30 side of the cloyster be Hned with a gravel-walk, and that walk with a row of trees; and that in the middle there be a parterre of flowers, and a fountain. That the second quadrangle, just behind the first, be 8 THE COLLEDGE. so contrived, as to contain these parts, i. A chappel. 2. A hall with two long tables on each side for the scholars and officers of the house to eat at, and with a pulpit and forms at the end for the publick lectures. 3. A large 5 and pleasant dining-room within the hall, for the pro- fessors to eat in, and to hold their assemblies and con- ferences. 4. A publick school-house. 5. A Hbrary. 6. A gallery to walk in, adorned with the pictures or statues of all the inventors of any thing useful to human life; 10 as, printing, guns, America, &c. and of late in anatomy, the circulation of the blood, the milky veins, and such like discoveries in any art, with short elogies under the portraictures ; as likewise the figures of all sorts of crea- tures, and the stuft skins of as many strange animals as 15 can be gotten. 7. An anatomy-chamber, adorned with skeletons and anatomical pictures, and prepared with all conveniences for dissection. 8. A chamber for all manner of druggs, and apothecaries' materials. 9. A mathematical chamber, furnisht with all sorts of mathe- 20 matical instruments, being an appendix to the library. 10. Lodgings for the chaplain, chirurgeon, library-keeper, and purveyor, near the chappel, anatomy-chamber, library, and hall. That the third court be on one side of these, very 25 large, but meanly built, being designed only for use and not for beauty too, as the others. That it contain the kitchin, butteries, brew-house, bake-house, dairy, lardry, stables, &c. and especially great laboratories for chymical operations, and lodgings for the under- 30 servants. That behind the second court be placed the garden, containing all sorts of plants that our soil will bear; and at the end a httle house of pleasure, a lodge for the gardiner, and a grove of trees cut into walks. THE COLLEDGE. 9 That the second enclosed ground be a garden, des- tined only to the trial of all manner of experiments concerning plants, as their melioration, acceleration, retardation, conservation, composition, transmutation, coloration, or whatsoever else can be produced by art 5 either for use or curiosity, with a lodge in it for the gardiner. That the third ground be employed in convenient re- ceptacles for all sorts of creatures which the professors shall judge necessary, for their more exact search into 10 the nature of animals, and the improvement of their uses to us. That there be likewise built, in some place of the colledge where it may serve most for ornament of the whole, a very high tower for observation of 15 celestial bodies, adorned with all sorts of dyals and such like curiosities ; and that there be very deep vaults made under ground, for experiments most proper to such places, which will be undoubtedly very many, 20 Much might be added ; but truly I am afraid this is too much already for the charity or generosity of this age to extend to ; and we do not design this after the model of Solomon's house in my Lord Bacon (which is a project for experiments that can never be experi- 25 mented), but propose it within such bounds of expence as have often been exceeded by the buildings of private citizens. Of the Professors, Scholars, Chaplain, and OTHER Officers. That of the twenty professors, four be always travelling beyond the seas, and sixteen always resident, unless by 30 lo OF THE PROFESSORS, 6-r. permission upon extraordinary occasions; and every one so absent, leaving a deputy behind him to supply his duties. That the four professors itinerate be assigned to the 5 four parts of the world, Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, there to reside three years at least; and to give a constant account of all things that belong to the learning, and especially natural experimental philosophy, of those parts lo That the expense of all dispatches, and all books, simples, animals, stones, metals, minerals, &c. and all curiosities whatsoever, natural or artificial, sent by them to the colledge, shall be defrayed out of the treasury, and an additional allowance (above the ;£i2o.) 15 made to them as soon as the colledges revenue shall be improved. That, at their going abroad, they shall take a solemn oath, never to write any thing to the colledge, but what, after very diligent examination, they shall fully believe 20 to be true, and to confess and recant it as soon as they find themselves in an errour. That the sixteen professors resident shall be bound to study and teach all sorts of natural experimental philosophy, to consist of the mathematicks, mechanicks, 25 medicine, anatomy, chymistry, the history of animals, plants, minerals, elements, &c. ; agriculture, architecture, art military, navigation, gardening; the mysteries of all trades, and improvement of them ; the facture of all merchandises, all natural magick or divination ; and 30 briefly all things contained in the catalogue of natural histories annexed to my Lord Bacon's Organon. That once a day from Easter till Michaelmas, and twice a week from Michaelmas to Easter, in the hours in the afternoon most convenient for auditors from OF THE PROFESSORS, 6-r. " London, according to the time of the year, there shall be a lecture read in the hall, upon, such parts of natural experimental philosophy, as the professors shall agree on among themselves, and as each of them shall be able to perform usefully and honourably. 5 That two of the professors, by daily, weekly, or monthly turns, shall teach the publick schools according to the rules hereafter prescribed. That all the professors shall be equal in all respects (except precedency, choice of lodging, and such like lo priviledges, which shall belong to seniority in the col- ledge); and that all shall be masters and treasurers by annual turns, which two officers for the time being shall take place of all the rest, and shall be arbitri duai'uni I7iensa7'iim . 15 That the master shall command all the officers of the colledge, appoint assemblies or conferences upon oc- casion, and preside in them with a double voice ; and in his absence, the treasurer, whose business is to receive and disburss all moneys by the master's order in writing 20 (if it be an extraordinary), after consent of the other professors. That all the professors shall sup together in the parlour within the hall every night, and shall dine there twice a week (to wit, Sundays and Thursdays) at two 25 round tables, for the convenience of discourse, which shall be, for the most part, of such matters as may im- prove their studies and professions ; and to keep them from falling into loose or unprofitable talk, shall be the duty of the two arbitri mensarum, who may likewise 30 command any of the servant-scholars to read to them what they shall think fit, whilst they are at table : that it shall belong likewise to the said a7-bitri 7tiensarum only to invite strangers ; which they shall rarely do, unless they 12 OF THE PROFESSORS, &^c. be men of learning or great parts, and shall not invite above two at a time to one table, nothing being more vain and unfruitful than numerous meetings of acquaint- ance. 5 That the professors resident shall allow the coUedge twenty pounds a year for their diet, whether they con- tinue there all the time or not. That they shall have once a week an assembly, or conference, concerning the affairs of the coUedge and lo the progress of their experimental philosophy. That if any one find out any thing which he conceives to be of consequence, he shall communicate it to the assembly to be examined, experimented, approved, or rejected. 15 That, if any one be author of an invention that may bring in profit, the third part of it shall belong to the inventor, and the two other to the society; and besides, if the thing be very considerable, his statue or picture, with an elogy under it, shall be placed in the gallery, 20 and made a denison of that corporation of famous men. That all the professors shall be always assigned to some particular inquisition (besides the ordinary course of their studies), of which they shall give an account to 25 the assembly ; so that by this means there may be every day some operation or other made in all the arts, as chymistry, anatomy, mechanicks, and the like; and that the coUedge shall furnish for the charge of the operation. 30 That there shall be kept a register under lock and key, and not to be seen but by the professors, of all the experiments that succeed, signed by the persons who made the tryal. That the popular and received errors in experimental OF THE PROFESSORS, 6-^. 13 philosophy (with which, hke weeds in a neglected garden, it is now almost all over-grown) shall be evinced by tryal, and taken notice of in the publick lectures, that they may no longer abuse the credulous, and beget new ones by consequence or similitude. 5 That every third year (after the full settlement of the foundation) the colledge shall give an account in print, in proper and ancient Latine, of the fruits of their triennial industry. That every professor resident shall have his scholar 10 to wait upon him in his chamber and at table ; whom he shall be obliged to breed up in natural philosophy, and render an account of his progress to the assembly, from whose election he received him, and therefore is re- sponsible to it, both for the care of his education and 15 the just and civil usage of him. That the scholar shall understand Latine very well, and be moderately initiated in the Greek, before he be capable of being chosen into the service ; and that he shall not remain in it above seven years. 20 That his lodging shall be with the professor whom he serves. That no professor shall be a married man, or a divine, or lawyer in practice; only physick he may be allowed to ;orescribe, because the study of that art is a great part of 25 ^■he duty of his place, and the duty of that is so great that it will not suffer him to lose much time in mercenary practice. That the professors shall, in the colledge, wear the habit of ordinary masters of art in the universities, or of 30 doctors, if any of them be so. That they shall all keep an inviolable and exemplary friendship with one another ; and that the assembly shall lay a considerable pecuniary mulct upon any one who 14 OF THE PROFESSORS, &^c shall be proved to have entered so far into a quarrel as to give uncivil language to his brother-professor; and that the perseverance in any enmity shall be punish'd by the governors with expulsion. 5 That the chaplain shall eat at the master's table (pay- ing his twenty pounds a year as the others do); and that he shall read prayers once a day at least, a little before supper-time ; that he shall preach in the chappel every Sunday morning, and catechize in the afternoon the lo scholars and the school-boys ; that he shall every month administer the holy sacrament ; that he shall not trouble himself and his auditors with the controversies of divinity, but only teach God in his just commandments, and in his wonderful works. The School. 15 That the school may be built so as to contain about an hundred boys. That it be divided into four classes, not as others are ordinarily into six or seven ; because we suppose that the children sent hither, to be initiated in things as well 20 as words, ought to have past the two or three first, and to have attained the age of about thirteen years, being already well advanced in the Latine grammar, and some authors. That none, though never so rich, shall pay any thing 25 for their teaching; and that, if any professor shall be convicted to have taken any money in consideration of his pains in the school, he shall be expelled with igno- miny by the governours; but if any persons of great estate and quality, finding their sons much better pro- 30 ficients in learning here, than boys of the same age THE SCHOOL. 15 commonly are at other schools, shall not think fit to receive an obligation of so near concernment without returning some marks of acknowledgment, they may, if they please, (for nothing is to be demanded) bestow some little rarity or curiosity upon the society, in recom- 5 pense of their trouble. And because it is deplorable to consider the loss which children make of their time at most schools, em- ploying, or rather casting away, six or seven years in the learning of words only, and that too very imper- 10 fectly : That a method be here established, for the infusing knowledge and language at the same time into them ; and that this may be their apprenticeship in natural phi- losophy. This, we conceive, may be done, by breeding 15 them in authors, or pieces of authors, who treat of some parts of nature, and who may be understood with as much ease and pleasure, as those which are commonly taught ; such are, in Latine, Varro, Cato, Columella, Pliny, part of Celsus and of Seneca, Cicero de Divina- 20 tione, de Natura Deorum, and several scattered pieces, Virgil's Georgicks, Grotius, Nemetianus, Manilius : And because the truth is, we want good poets (I mean we have but few), v/ho have purposely treated of solid and learned, that is, natural matters (the most part indulg- 25 ing to the weakness of the world, and feeding it either with the follies of love, or with the fables of gods and heroes), we conceive that one book ought to be compiled of all the scattered little parcels among the antient poets that might serve for the advancement of natural sciences 30 and which would make no small and unuseful or un- pleasant volume. To this we would have added the morals and rhetoricks of Cicero, and the institutions of Quintilian ; and for the comedians, from whom almost i6 THE SCHOOL. all that necessary part of common discourse, and all the most intimate proprieties of the language, are drawn, we conceive the boys may be made masters of them, as a part of their recreation, and not of their task, if once a 5 month, or at least once in two, they act one of Terence's Comedies, and afterwards (the most advanced) some of Plautus his ; and this is for many reasons one of the best exercises they can be enjoyned, and most innocent plea- sures they can be allowed. As for the Greek authors, lo they may study Nicander, Oppianus (whom Scaliger does not doubt to prefer above Homer himself, and place next to his adored Virgil), Aristotle's history of animals and other parts, Theophrastus and Dioscorides of plants, and a collection made out of several both poets 15 and other Grecian writers. For the morals and rhetorick, Aristotle may suffice, or Hermogenes and Longinus be added for the latter. With the history of animals they should be shewed anatomy as a divertisement, and made to know the figures and natures of those creatures 20 which are not common among us, disabusing them at the same time of those errors which are universally ad- mitted concerning many. The same method should be used to make them acquainted with all plants ; and to this must be added a little of the antient and modern 25 geography, the understanding of the globes, and the principles of geometry and astronomy. They should likewise use to declaim in Latine and English, as the Romans did in Greek and Latine ; and in all this travel be rather led on by familiarity, encouragement, and 30 emulation, than driven by severity, punishment, and terror. Upon festivals and play-times, they should ex- ercise themselves in the fields, by riding, leaping, fencing, mustering and training after the manner of soldiers, &c. And, to prevent all dangers and all disorder, there should THE SCHOOL. 17 always be two of the scholars with them, to be as wit- nesses and directors of their actions ; in foul weather, it would not be amiss for them to learn to dance, that is, to learn just so much (for all beyond is superfluous, if not worse) as may give them a graceful comportment of 5 their bodies. Upon Sundays, and all days of devotion, they are to be a part of the chaplain's province. That, for all these ends, the colledge so order it, as that there may be some convenient and pleasant houses 10 thereabouts, kept by religious, discreet, and careful per- sons, for the lodging and boarding of young scholars ; that they have a constant eye over them, to see that they be bred up there piously, cleanly, and plen- tifully, according to the proportion of the parents' 15 expences. And that the colledge, when it shall please God, either by their own industry and success, or by the benevo- lence of patrons, to enrich them so far, as that it may come to their turn and duty to be charitable to others, 20 shall, at their own charges, erect and maintain some house or houses for the entertainment of such poor men's sons, whose good natural parts may promise either use or ornament to the commonwealth, during the time of t leir abode at school ; and shall take care that it shall 25 be done with the same conveniences as are enjoyed even by rich men's children (though they maintain the fewer for that cause), there being nothing of eminent and illustrious to be expected from a low, sordid, and hos- pital-like education. 30 L. c. i8 CONCLUSION. Conclusion. If I be not much abused by a natural fondness to my own conceptions (that a-Topyrj of the Greeks, which no other language has a proper word for), there was never any project thought upon, which deserves to meet with 5 so few adversaries as this ; for who can without impu- dent folly oppose the establishment of twenty well- selected persons in such a condition of life, that their whole business and sole profession may be to study the improvement and advantage of all other professions, lo from that of the highest general even to the lowest artisan? Who shall be obhged to employ their whole time, wit, learning, and industry, to these four, the most useful that can be imagined, and to no other ends ; first, to weigh, examine, and prove all things of nature deli- 15 vered to us by former ages; to detect, explode, and strike a censure through all false moneys with which the world has been paid and cheated so long; and (as I may say) to set the mark of the colledge upon all true coins, that they may pass hereafter without any farther tryal : 20 secondly, to recover the lost inventions, and, as it were, drown'd lands of the antients : thirdly, to improve all arts which we now have ; and lastly, to discover others which we yet have not. And who shall besides all this (as a benefit by the by), give the best education in the 25 world (purely gratis) to as many men's children as shall think fit to make use of the obligation ? Neither does it at all check or interfere with any parties in state or religion, but is indifferently to be embraced by all differences in opinion, and can hardly be conceived 30 capable (as many good institutions have done) even of degeneration into any thing harmful. So that, all things CONCLUSION. 19 considered, I will suppose this proposition will encounter with no enemies : the only question is, whether it will find friends enough to carry it on from discourse and design to reality and effect ; the necessary expences of the beginning (for it will maintain itself well enough 5 afterwards) being so great (though I have set them as low as is possible in order to so vast a work), that it may seem hopeless to raise such a sum out of those few dead reliques of human charity and publick generosity which are yet remaining in the world. 10 A DISCOURSE BY WAY OF VISION CON- CERNING THE GOVERNMENT OF OLIVER CROMWEL. iT was the funeral day of the late man wlio made himself to be called protector. And though I bore but little affection, either to the memory of him, or to the trouble and 5 folly of all publick pageantry, yet I was forced by the importunity of my company, to go along with them, and be a spectator of that solemnity, the expectation of which had been so great, that it was said to have brought some very curious persons (and no doubt singular lo virtuosos) as far as from the Mount in Cornwal, and from the Orcades. I found there had been much more cost bestowed than either the dead man or indeed death itself could deserve. There was a mighty train of black assistants, among which, too, divers princes in the 15 persons of their ambassadors (being infinitely afflicted for the loss of their brother) were pleased to attend ; the herse was magnificent, the idol crowned, and (not to mention all other ceremonies which are practised at royal interments, and therefore by no means could be omitted 20 here) the vast multitude of spectators made up, as it uses A DISCOURSE, &>&. 21 to do, no small part of the spectacle itself. But yet, I know not how, the whole was so managed, that, me- thoughts, it somewhat represented the life of him for whom it was made ; much noise, much tumult, much expence, much magnificence, much vain-glory; briefly 5 a great show; and yet, after all this, but an ill sight. At last (for it seemed long to me, and, like his short reign too, very tedious) the whole scene past by; and I retired back to my chamber, weary, and I think more melancholy than any of the mourners. Where I began 10 to reflect on the whole life of this prodigious man : and sometimes I was filled with horrour and detestation of his actions, and sometimes I inclined a little to reverence and admiration of his courage, conduct, and success; till, by these different motions and agitations of mind, rocked, 15 as it were, asleep, I fell at last into this vision ; or if you please to call it but a dream, I shall not take it ill, because the father of j^oets tells us, even dreams, too, are from God. But sure it was no dream; for I was suddainly trans- 20 ported afar off (whether in the body, or out of the body, like St Paul, I know not) and found myself on the top of that famous hill in the island Mona, which has the prospect of three great, and not long since most happy, kingdoms. As soon as ever I look'd on them, the not- 25 long-since struck upon my memory, and called forth the sad representation of all the sins, and all the miseries, that had overwhelmed them these twenty years. And I wept bitterly for two or three hours ; and, when my present stock of moisture was all wasted, I fell a sigliing 30 for an hour more; and, as soon as I recovered from my passion the use of speech and reason, I broke forth, as I remember (looking upon England), into this com- plaint : 2 2 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING THE Ah, happy isle, how art thou chang'd and curst, Since I was born, and knew thee first! When peace, which had forsook the world around, (Frighted with noise, and the shrill trumpet's sound) 5 Thee, for a private place of rest. And a secure retirement, chose Wherein to build her halcyon nest; No wind durst stir abroad the air to discompose. 2. When all the riches of the globe beside lo Flow'd in to thee with every tide : When all, that nature did thy soil deny, The growth was of thy fruitful industry; When all the proud and dreadful sea And all his tributary streams, 15 A constant tribute paid to thee, When all the liquid world was one extended Thames ; When plenty in each village did appear, And bounty was it's steward there ; When gold walk'd free about in open view, 20 E'er it one conquering party's prisoner grew; When the religion of our state Had face and substance with her voice, E'er she, by her foolish loves of late. Like echo (once a nymph) turn'd only into noise. GOVERNMENT OF OLIVER CROMWEL. 23 4. When men to men respect and friendship bore, And God with reverence did adore ; When upon earth no kingdom could have shown A happier monarch to us than our own; And yet his subjects by him were (Which is a truth will hardly be Receiv'd by any vulgar ear, A secret known to few) made happier ev'n than he. Thou dost a chaos, and confusion now, A Babel, and a Bedlam, grow, 10 And, like a frantick person, thou dost tear The ornaments and cloaths, which thou should'st wear, And cut thy limbs ; and, if we see (Just as thy barbarous Britons did) Thy body with hypocrisie 15 Painted all o'er, thou think'st thy naked shame is hid. 6. The nations, which envied thee ere while, Now laugh (too little 'tis to smile) : They laugh, and would have pitied thee (alas !) But that thy faults all pity do surpass. 20 Art thou the countrey, which didst hate And mock the French inconstancie ? And have we, have we seen of late Less change of habits there, than governments in thee? 24 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING THE 7. Unhappy Isle ! no ship of thine at sea, Was ever tost and torn like thee. Thy naked hulk loose on the waves does beat, The rocks and banks around her mine threat; 5 What did thy foolish pilots ail, To lay the compass quite aside? Without a law or rule to sail, And rather take the winds, than heavens, to be their guide? Yet, mighty God, yet, yet, we humbly crave, 10 This floating isle from shipwrack save ; And though, to wash that bloud which does it stain, It well deserve to sink into the main ; Yet, for the royal martyr's prayer, (The royal martyr prays, we know) 15 This guilty, perishing vessel spare; Hear but his soul above, and not his bloud below. I think, I should have gone [on,] but that I was interrupted by a strange and terrible apparition; for there appeared to me (arising out of the earth, as I 20 conceived) the figure of a man, taller than a gyant, or indeed the shadow of any gyant in the evening. His body was naked; but that nakedness adorn'd, or rather deform'd all over, with several figures, after the manner of the antient Britons, painted upon it : and I perceived 25 that most of them were the representation of the battels in our civil wars, and (if I be not much mistaken) it was the battel of Naseby that was drawn upon his breast. His eyes were like burning brass; and there were three crowns of the same metal (as I guest), and that look'd as 30 red-hot too, upon his head. He held in his right hand GOVERNMENT OF OLIVER CROMWEL. 25 a sword, that was yet bloody, and nevertheless the motto of it was, Pax quceritiir bello ; and in his left hand a thick book, upon the back of which was written in letters of gold, Acts, Ordinances, Protestations, Covenants, Engagements, Declarations, Remonstrances, &c. 5 Though this sudden, unusual, and dreadful object might have quelled a greater courage than mine, yet so it pleased God (for there is nothing bolder than a man in a vision) that I was not at all daunted, but ask'd him resolutely and briefly, "What art thou?" And he 10 said, "I am called the north-west principality, his highness the protector of the commonwealth of England, Scotland, and Ireland, and the dominions belonging thereunto; for I am that angel, to whom the Almighty has committed the government of those three kingdoms, which thou 15 seest from this place." And I answered and said, "If it be so, Sir, it seems to me that for almost these twenty years past, your highness has been absent from your charge: for not only if any angel, but if any wise and honest man had since that time been our governor, we 20 should not have v/andred thus long in these laborious and endless labyrinths of confusion, but either not have entred at all into them, or at least have returned back e'r we had absolutely lost our way ; but, instead of your highness, we have had since such a protector as was his 25 predecessor Richard the Third to the king his nephew ; for he presently slew the commonwealth, which he pre- tended to protect, and set up himself in the place of it : a little less guilty, indeed, in one respect, because the other slew an innocent, and this man did but murder a 30 murderer. Such a protector we have had, as we would have been glad to have changed for an enemy, and rather receive a constant Turk, than this every month's apostate ; such a protector, as man is to his flocks, which 26 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING THE he shears, and sells, or devours himself; and I would fain know, what the wolf, which he protects them from, could do more? Such a protector — " and as I was proceeding, methought his highness began to put on a 5 displeased and threatning countenance, as men use to do when their dearest friends happen to be traduced in their company; which gave me the first rise of jealousie against him, for I did not believe that Cromwel, among all his forreign correspondences, had ever held any with lo angels. However, I was not hardn'd enough to venture a quarrel with him then ; and therefore (as if I had spoken to the protector himself in Whitehal) I desired him *' that his highness would please to pardon me, if I had unwittingly spoken any thing to the disparagement of 15 a person, whose relations to his highness I had not the honour to know." At which he told me, '-'that he had no other con- cernment for his late highness, than as he took him to be the greatest man that ever was of the English nation, 20 if not (said he) of the whole world ; which gives me a just title to the defence of his reputation, since I now account myself, as it were, a naturalized English angel, by having had so long the management of the affairs of that countrey. And pray, countreyman (said he, very 25 kindly and very flatteringly) for I would not have you fall into the general error of the world, that detests and decries so extraordinary a virtue, what can be more ex- traordinary, than that a person of mean birth, no fortune, no eminent quaUties of body, which have sometimes, or 30 of mind, which have often, raised men to the highest dignities, should have the courage to attempt, and the happiness to succeed in, so improbable a design, as the destruction of one of the most antient and most solidly founded monarchies upon the earth? That he should have GOVERNMENT OF OLIVER CROMWEL. 27 the power or boldness to put his prince and master to an open and infamous death ; to banish that numerous and strongly-aUied family ; to do all this under the name and wages of a parliament ; to trample upon them too as he pleased, and spurn them out of doors, when he grew 5 weary of them; to raise up a new and unheard of monster out of their ashes ; to stifle that in the very infancy, and set up himself above all things that ever were called soveraign in England ; to oppress all his enemies by arms, and all his friends afterwards by artifice ; to serve 10 all parties patiently for a while, and to command them victoriously at last ; to over-run each corner of the three nations, and overcome with equal felicity both the riches of the south, and the poverty of the north ; to be feared and courted by all forreign princes, and adopted a brother 15 to the gods of the earth; to call together parliaments with a word of his pen, and scatter them again with the breath of his mouth ; to be humbly and daily petitioned that he would please to be hired, at the rate of two millions a year, to be master of those who had hired 20 him before to be their servant ; to have the estates and lives of three kingdoms as much at his disposal, as was the little inheritance of his father, and to be as noble and liberal in the spending of them ; and lastly (for there is no end of all the particulars of his glory) to bequeath all 25 this with one word to his posterity ; to dye with peace at home, and triumph abroad ; to be buried among kings, and with more than regal solemnity; and to leave a name behind him, not to be extinguished but with the whole world ; which, as it is now too little for his praises, 30 so might have been too for his conquests, if the short line of his humane life could have been stretcht out to the extent of his immortal designs ? '' By this speech, I began to understand perfectly well 28 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING THE what kind of angel his pretended highness was ; and having fortified myself privately with a short mental prayer, and with the sign of the cross (not out of any superstition to the sign, but as a recognition of my 5 baptism in Christ,) I grew a little bolder, and replyed in this manner; " I should not venture to oppose what you are pleased to say in commendation of the late great, and (I confess) extraordinary person, but that I remember Christ forbids us to give assent to any other doctrine lo but what himself has taught us, even though it should be delivered by an angel ; and if such you be, Sir, it may be you have spoken all this rather to try than to tempt my frailty, for sure I am, that we must renounce or forget all the laws of the New and Old Testament, and those 15 which are the foundation of both, even the laws of moral and natural honesty, if we approve of the actions of that man whom I suppose you commend by irony. "There would be no end to instance in the par- ticulars of all his wickedness : but to sum up a part of it 20 briefly : What can be more extraordinarily wicked, than for a person, such as yourself quahfie him rightly, to endeavour not only to exalt himself above, but to trample upon, all his equals and betters? To pretend freedom for all men, and under the help of that pretence to make all 25 men his servants ? To take arms against taxes of scarce two hundred thousand pounds a year, and to raise them himself to above two millions? To quarrel for the loss of three or four ears, and strike off three or four hundred heads? To fight against an imaginary suspicion of I know 30 not what two thousand guards to be fetcht for the king, I know not from whence, and to keep up for himself no less than forty thousand? To pretend the defence of parliaments, and violently to dissolve all even of his own calling, and almost choosing ? To undertake the reform- GOVERNAIENT OF OLIVER CROMWEL. 29 ation of religion, to rob it even to the very skin, and then to expose it naked to the rage of all sects and heresies ? To set up councils of rapine, and courts of murder ? To fight against the king under a commission for him ? To take him forcibly out of the hands of those for whom 5 he had conquer'd him ? To draw him into his net, with protestations and vows of fidelity, and when he had caught him in it, to butcher him, with as little shame as conscience or humanity, in the open face of the whole world? To receive a commission for king and parhament, 10 to murder (as I said) the one, and destroy no less im- pudently the other ? To fight against monarchy when he declared for it, and declare against it when he contrived for it in his own person ? To abuse perfidiously and sup- plant ingratefully his own general first, and afterwards 15 most of those officers, who, with the loss of their honour, and hazard of their souls, had lifted him up to the top of his unreasonable ambitions ? To break his faith with all enemies and with all friends equally, and to make no less frequent use of the most solemn perjuries, than the 20 looser sort of people do of customary oaths ? To usurp three kingdoms without any shadow of the least pre- tensions, and to govern them as unjustly as he got them? To set himself up as an idol (which we know, as St Paul says, in itself is nothing), and make the very streets of 25 London like the valley of Hinnom, by burning the bowels of men as a sacrifice to his Molochship ? To seek to entail this usurpation upon his posterity, and with it an endless war upon the nation? And lastly, by the severest judgment of Almighty God, to die hardned, and 30 mad, and unrepentant, with the curses of the present age, and the detestation of all to succeed?" Though I had much more to say (for the life of man is so short, that it allows not time enough to speak against a tyrant) yet because I had a mind to hear how 35 30 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING THE my strange adversary would behave himself upon this subject, and to give even the devil (as they say) his right, and fair play in disputation, I stopt here, and expected (not without the frailty of a little fear) that he should 5 have broke into a violent passion in behalf of his favourite : but he on the contrary very calmly, and with the dove-like innocency of a serpent that was not yet warm'd enough to sting, thus reply'd to me : "It is not so much out of my affection to that person lo whom we discourse of (whose greatness is too solid to be shaken by the breath of any oratory), as for your own sake (honest countryman,) whom I conceive to err rather by mistake than out of malice, that I shall endeavour to reform your uncharitable and unjust opinion. And, in 15 the first place, I must needs put you in mind of a sentence of the most antient of the heathen divines, that you men are acquainted withal, Ov;^ ocTLOv KTaixivoier?" &c. Would you be free? 'Tis your chief wish, you say 20 Come on ; I'll shew thee, friend, the certain way. If to no feasts abroad thou lov'st to go, Whilst bount'ous God does bread at home bestow ; If thou the goodness of thy cloaths dost prize By thine own use, and not by others' eyes ; 25 If (only safe from weathers) thou can'st dwell In a small house,, but a convenient shell; If thou, without a sigh, or golden wish, Canst look upon thy beech en bowl, and dish ; If in thy mind such power and greatness be, 30 The Persian king's a slave compar'd with thee. IN VERSE AND PROSE. 79 MARTIAL, LIB. II. EP. 68. "Quod te nomine," &c. That I do you, with humble bowes no more, And danger of my naked head, adore ; That I, who, Lord and master, cry'd erewhile. Salute you, in a new and diff'rent stile, By your own name, a scandal to you now, 5 Think not that I forget myself and you : By loss of all things, by all others sought, This freedom, and the freeman's hat is bought. A lord and master no man wants, but he Who o'er himself has no authority, 10 Who does for honours and for riches strive. And follies, without which lords cannot live. If thou from fortune dost no servant crave, Believe it, thou no master need'st to have. ODE. UPON LIBERTY. I. Freedom with Virtue takes her seat; 15 Her proper place, her only scene, Is in the golden mean, She lives not with the poor, nor with the great. The wings of those Necessity has dipt, And they're in Fortune's Bridewel whipt 20 To the laborious task of bread ; • These are by various tyrants captive led. Now wild Ambition with imperious force Rides, reins, and spurs them, like th' unruly horse. And servile Avarice yokes them now, 25 8o DISCOUJRSES BY WAY OF ESSAYS, Like toilsom oxen, to the plow. And sometimes Lust, like the misguided light, Draws them through all the labyrinths of night. If any few among the great there be 5 From these insulting passions free, Yet we ev'n those, too, fetter'd see By custom, business, crowds, and formal decencie. And wheresoe'er they stay, and wheresoe'er they go, Impertinencies round them flow : lo These are the small uneasie things Which about greatness still are found. And rather it molest, than wound : Like gnats, which too much heat of summer brings; But cares do swarm there, too, and those have stings: 15 As, when the honey does too open lie, A thousand wasps about it flie : Nor will the master ev'n to share admit ; The master stands aloof, and dares not taste of it. 2. 'Tis morning: well; I fain would yet sleep on; 20 You cannot now; you must be gone To court, or to the noisie hall: Besides, the rooms without are crowded all; The stream of business does begin, And a spring-tide of clients is come in. 25 Ah, cruel guards, which this poor prisoner keep! Will they not suffer him to sleep? Make an escape ; out at the postern flee. And get some blessed hours of liberty: With a few friends, and a few dishes dine, 30 And much of mirth and moderate wine. To thy bent mind some relaxation give. And steal one day out of thy life, to live. IN VERSE AND PROSE. 8i Oh, happy man (he cries) to whom kind heaven Has such a freedom always given ! Why, mighty madman, what should hinder thee From being every day as free? 3- In all the freeborn nations of the air, 5 Never did bird a spirit so mean and sordid bear, As to exchange a native liberty Of soaring boldly up into the sky. His liberty to sing, to perch, or fly, When, and wherever he thought good, 10 And all his innocent pleasures of the wood. For a more plentiful or constant food. Nor ever did ambitious rage Make him into a painted cage, Or the false forest of a well-hung room, 15 For honour and preferment, come. Now, blessings on you all, ye heroick race, Who keep their primitive powers and rights so well, Though men and angels fell. Of all material lives the highest place 20 To you is justly given; And ways and walks the nearest heaven. W^hilst wretched we, yet vain and proud, think fit To boast, that we look up to it. Ev'n to the universal tyrant, Love, 25 You homage pay but once a year : None so degenerous and unbirdly prove. As his perpetual yoke to bear. None, but a few unhappy household fowl, Whom human lordship does controulj 30 Who from the birth corrupted were By bondage, and by man's example here. L. c. 6 82 niSCOURSES BY WAY OF ESSAYS, 4. He's no small prince, who every day Thus to himself can say ; Now will I sleep, now eat, now sit, now walk, Now meditate alone, now with acquaintance talk. 5 This I will do, here I will stay. Or, if my fancy calleth me away, My man and I will presently go ride ; (For we, before, have nothing to provide, Nor, after, are to render an account) 10 To Dover, Berwick, or the Cornish mount. If thou but a short journey take. As if thy last thou wert to make. Business must be despatch'd, ere thou canst part, Nor canst thou stir, unless there be 15 A hundred horse and men to wait on thee, And many a mule, and many a cart; What an unwieldy man thou art! The Rhodian Colossus so A journey, too, might go. 5- 20 Where honour, or where conscience, does not bind, No other law shall shackle me; Slave to myself I will not be. Nor shall my future actions be confin'd By my own present mind. 25 Who by resolves and vows engag'd does stand For days, that yet belong to fate. Does, like an unthrift, mortgage his estate, Before it falls into his hand : The bondman of the cloister so 30 All that he does receive, does always owe ; IN VERSE AND PROSE. 83 And still, as time comes in, it goes away Not to enjoy, but debts to pay. Unhappy slave, and pupil to a bell, Which his hour's work, as well as hours, does tell ! Unhappy, till the last, the kind releasing knell. 5 6. If life should a well-order'd poem be (In which he only hits the white Who joyns true profit with the best delight) The more heroick strain let others take, Mine the Pindaric way I'll make ; 10 The matter shall be grave, the numbers loose and free. It shall not keep one settled pace of time. In the same tune it shall not always chime. Nor shall each day just to his neighbour rhime; A thousand liberties it shall dispense, 15 And yet shall manage all without offence Or to the sweetness of the sound, or greatness of the sense; Nor shall it never from one subject start, Nor seek transitions to depart, Nor its set way o'er stiles and bridges make, 20 Nor thorough lanes a compass take. As if it fear'd some trespass to commit, When the wide air's a road for it. So the imperial eagle does not stay Till the whole carkass he devour, 25 That's fallen into its power: As if his generous hunger understood That he can never want plenty of food. He only sucks the tastful blood; And to fresh game flies cheerfully away ; 30 To kites and meaner birds, he leaves the mangled prey. • 6 — 2 84 DISCOURSES BY WAY OF ESSAYS, II. OF SOLITUDE. [QNQUAM minus solus, quam cum solus/' is now become a very vulgar saying. Every man, and almost every boy, for these seven- teen hundred years, has had it in his mouth. 5 But it was at first spoken by the excellent Scipio, who was without question a most eloquent and witty person, as well as the most wise, most worthy, most happy, and the greatest of all mankind. His meaning, no doubt, was this, that he found more satisfaction to his mind, lo and more improvement of it, by solitude than by com- pany; and, to shew that he spoke not this loosly, or out of vanity, after he had made Rome mistress of almost the whole world, he retired himself from it by a voluntary exile, and at a private house in the middle of 15 a wood near Linternum, passed the remainder of his glorious life no less gloriously. This house Seneca went to see so long after with great veneration; and, among other thmgs, describes his baths to have been of so mean a structure, that now, says he, the basest 20 of the people would despise them, and cry out, " Poor Scipio understood not how to live." What an authority is here for the credit of retreat ! and happy had it been for Hannibal, if adversity could have taught him as TN VERSE AND PROSE. 85 much wisdom as was learnt by Scipio from the highest prosperities. This would be no wonder, if it were as truly as it is colourably and wittily said by Monsieur de Montaigne, "that ambition itself might teach us to love solitude ; there's nothing does so much hate to 5 have companions." 'Tis true, it loves to have its elbows free, it detests to have company on either side ; but it delights above all things in a train behind, aye, and ushers too before it. But the greatest part of men are so far from the opinion of that noble Roman, that, 10 if they chance at any time to be without company, they're like a becalmed ship ; they never move but by the wind of other men's breath, and have no oars of their own to steer withal. It is very fantastical and contra- dictory in humane nature, that men should love them- 15 selves above all the rest of the world, and yet never endure to be with themselves. When they are in love with a mistress, all other persons are importunate and burden- some to them. " Tecum vivere amem, tecum obeam lubens," they would live and die with her alone. 20 " Sic ego secretis possum bene vivere silvis, Qua nulla humano sit via trita pede. Tu mihi curarum requies, tu nocte vel atra Lumen, et in solis tu mihi turba locis." With thee for ever I in woods could rest, 25 Where never human foot the ground has prest. Thou from all shades the darkness canst exclude, And from a desart banish solitude. And yet our dear self is so wearisome to us, that we can scarcely support its conversation for an hour to- 30 gether. This is such an odd temper of mind, as Catullus expresses towards one of his mistresses, whom we may suppose to have been of a very unsociable humour, " Odi, et amo : quare id faciam fortasse requiris. Nescio ; sed fieri sentio, et excrucior." oc 86 DISCOURSES BY WAY OF ESSAYS, I hate, and yet I love thee too ; How can that be? I know not how; Only that so it is I know, And feel with torment that 'tis so. 5 It is a deplorable condition, this, and drives a man sometimes to pitiful shifts in seeking how to avoid himself. The truth of the matter is, that neither he who is a fop in the world, is a fit man to be alone ; nor he who lo has set his heart much upon the world, though he have never so much understanding ; so that solitude can be well fitted and sit right, but upon a very few persons. They must have enough knowledge of the world to see the vanity of it, and enough virtue to despise all vanity ; 15 if the mind be possessed with any lust or passions, a man had better be in a fair, than in a wood alone. They may, like petty thieves, cheat us perhaps, and pick our pockets, in the midst of company; but, like robbers, they use to strip and bind, or murder us, when they 20 catcli us alone. This is but to retreat from men, and to fall into the hands of devils. 'Tis like the punishment of parricides among the Romans, to be sewed into a bag, with an ape, a dog, and a serpent. The first work, therefore, that a man must do, to 25 make himself capable of the good of solitude, is, the very eradication of all lusts ; for how is it possible for a man to enjoy himself, while his affections are tyed to things without himself.^ In the second place, he must learn the art, and get the habit of thinking ; for this, too, 30 no less than well speaking, depends upon much practice; and cogitation is the thing which distinguishes the soli- tude of a God from a wild beast. Now, because the soul of man is not, by its own nature or observation, furnisht with sufficient materials to work upon, it is IN VERSE AND PROSE. 87 necessary for it to have continual recourse to learning and books for fresh supplies, so that the solitary life will grow indigent, and be ready to starve, without them; but if once we be thoroughly engaged in the love of letters, instead of being wearied with the length of any 5 day, we shall only complain of the shortness of our whole life. "O vita, stulto longa, sapienti brevis !" O life, long to the fool, short to the wise! The first minister of state has not so much business 10 in publick, as a wise man has in private : if the one have little leasure to be alone, the other has less leasure to be in company; the one has but part of the affairs of one nation, the other all the works of God and nature, under his consideration. There is no saying shocks me so 15 much as that which I hear very often, that a man does not know how to pass his time. 'Twould have been but ill spoken by Methusalem in the nine hundred sixty- ninth year of his life ; so far it is from us, who have not time enough to attain to the utmost perfection of any 20 part of any science, to have cause to complain that we are forced to be idle for want of work. But this, you'll say, is work only for the learned ; others are not capable either • of the employments or divertisements that arrive from letters. I know they are not ; and, therefore, can- 25 not much recommend solitude to a man totally iUiterate. But, if any man be so unlearned, as to want entertain- ment of the little intervals of accidental soHtude, which frequently occur in almost all conditions (except the very meanest of the people, who have business enough 30 in the necessary provisions for life), it is truly a great shame both to his parents and himself; for a very small portion of any ingenious art will stop up all those gaps of our time : either musick, or painting, or designing. 88 DISCOURSES BY WAY OF ESSAYS, or chymistry, or history, or gardening, or twenty other things, will do it usefully and pleasantly; and, if he happen to set his affections upon poetry (which I do not advise him to immoderately), that will over-do it ; no 5 wood will be thick enough to hide him from the impor- tunities of company or business, which would abstract him from his beloved. '' O qui me gelidis in vallibus Hcemi Sistat, et ingenti ramorum protegat umbra ? " I. lo Hail, old patrician trees, so great and good ! Hail, ye plebeian under-wood ! Where the poetick birds rejoyce, And for their quiet nests and plenteous food Pay with their grateful voice. 2. 15 Hail, the poor Muses' richest mannor-seat ! Ye country houses and retreat, Which all the happy gods so love, That for you oft they quit their bright and great Metropolis above. 3- 20 Here Nature does a house for me erect, Nature, the wisest architect, Who those fond artists does despise That can the fair and Hving trees neglect ; Yet the dead timber prize. 4- 25 Here let me, careless and unthoughtful lying. Hear the soft winds, above me flying, With all their wanton boughs dispute. And the more taneful birds to both replying, Nor be myself too mute. IN VERSE AND PROSE. 89 5- A silver stream shall roul his waters near, Gilt Avith sun-beams here and there, On whose enamel'd bank I'll walk, And see how prettily they smile, and hear How prettily they talk. 5 6. Ah wretched, and too solitary he, Who loves not his own companie ! He'll feel the weight oft many a day, Unless he call in sin or vanitie To help to bear't away. 10 7. O Solitude, first state of human-kind ! Which blest remain'd, till man did find Ev'n his own helper's companie. As soon as two (alas !) together joyn'd, The serpent made up three. 15 8. Though God himself, through countless ages, thee His sole companion chose to be, Thee, sacred Solitude, alone. Before the branchy head of number's tree Sprang from the trunk of one. 20 9- Thou (though men think thine an unactive part) Dost break and tame th' unruly heart, Which else would know no setled pace, Making it move, well manag'd by thy art, With swiftness and with grace. 25 90 DISCOURSES BY WAY OF ESSAYS, lO. Thou the faint beams of reason's scatter'd light Dost, like a burning glass, unite, Dost multiply the feeble heat, And fortify the strength, till thou dost bright 5 And noble fires beget. II. Whilst this hard truth T teach, methinks I see The monster London laugh at me; I should at thee too, foolish city, If it were fit to laugh at misery ; lo But thy estate I pity. 12. Let but thy wicked men fi'om out thee go, And all the fools that crowd thee so, Even thou, who dost thy millions boast, A village less than IsHngton wilt grow. 15 A solitude almost. IN VERSE AND FROSE. 91 III. OF OBSCURITY. "Nam neque divitibus contingunt gaudia solis ; "Nee vixit male, qui natus moriensque fefellit." God made not pleasures only for the rich ; Nor have those men without their share too liv'd, Who both in life and death the world deceiv'd. [HIS seems a strange sentence, thus litterally translated, and looks as if it were in vindi- cation of the men of business (for who else I can deceive the world?) whereas it is in commendation of those who live and die so obscurely, 10 that the world takes no notice of them. This Horace calls deceiving the world ; and in another place uses the same phrase, " Secretum iter et fallentis semita vitoe." The secret tracks of the deceiving life. 15 It is very elegant in Latine, but our English word will hardly bear up to that sense ; and therefore Mr Broom translates it very well — Or from a life, led, as it were, by stealth. Yet we say, in our language, a thing deceives our sight, 20 when it passes before us unperceived : and we may say well enough, out of the same author, Sometimes with sleep, sometimes with wine, we strive The cares of life and troubles to deceive. 92 DISCOURSES BY WAY OF ESSAYS, But that is not to deceive the world, but to deceive our- selves, as Quintiliaii says, "vitam fallere," to draw on still, and amuse, and deceive our life, till it be advanced insensibly to the fatal period, and fall into that pit which 5 nature hath prepared for it. The meaning of all this is no more than that most vulgar saying, "Bene qui latuit, bene vixit," he has lived well, who has lain well hidden. Which, if it be a truth, the world (I will swear) is sufficiently deceived : for my part, I think it is, and that lo the pleasantest condition of life is in mcognito. What a brave priviledge is it, to be free from all contentions, from all envying or being envied, from receiving or paying all kind of ceremonies ! It is, in my mind, a very delightful pastime, for two good and agreable friends to 15 travel up and down together, in places where they are by nobody known, nor know anybody. It was the case of ^neas and his Achates, when they walked invisibly about the fields and streets of Carthage ; Venus herself A vail of thicken'd air around them cast, 20 That none might know, or see them, as they past. The common story of Demosthenes' confession, that he had taken great pleasure in hearing of a tanker-woman say, as he past, "This is that Demosthenes," is wonderful ridiculous from so solid an orator. I myself have often 25 met with that temptation to vanity (if it were any); but am so far from finding it any pleasure, that it only makes me run faster from the place, till I get, as it were, out of sight-shot. Democritus relates, and in such a manner as if he gloried in the good fortune and commodity of 30 it, that, when he came to Athens, nobody there did so much as take notice of him ; and Epicurus lived there very well, that is, lay hid many years in his gardens, so famous since that time, with his friend Metrodorus : after whose death, making in one of his letters a kind IN VERSE AND PROSE. 93 commemoration of the happiness which they two had enjoyed together, he adds at last, that he thought it no disparagement to those great feHcities of their Hfe, that, in the midst of the most talk'd-of and talking country in the world, they had lived so long, not only without fame, 5 but almost without being heard of. And yet, within a very few years afterward, there w^ere no two names of men more known, or more generally celebrated. If we engage into a large acquaintance and various familiarities, we set open our gates to the invaders of most of our 10 time : we expose our life to a quotidian ague of frigid impertinences, which would make a wise man tremble to think of. Now, as for being known much by sight, and pointed at, I cannot comprehend the honour that lies in that : whatsoever it be, every mountebank has it more 15 than the best doctor, and the hangman more than the lord chief justice of a city. Every creature has it, both of nature and art, if it be any ways extraordinary. It was as often said, "This is that Bucephalus," or, "This is that Incitatus," when they were led prancing through 20 the streets, as "This is that Alexander," or, "This is that Domitian ;" and truly, for the latter, I take Incitatus to have been a much more honourable beast than his master, and more deserving the consulship, than he the empire. 25 I love and commend a true good fame, because it is the shadow of virtue ; not that it doth any good to the body which it accompanies, but 'tis an efficacious shadow, and, like that of S. Peter, cures the diseases of others. The best kind of glory, no doubt, is that which is re- 30 fleeted from honesty, such as was the glory of Cato and Aristides ; but it was harmful to them both, and is seldom beneficial to any man, whilest he lives : what it is to him after his death, I cannot say, because I love not 94 DISCOURSES BY WAY OF ESSAYS, philosophy meerly notional and conjectural, and no man who has made the experiment has been so kind as to come back to inform us. Upon the whole matter, I account a person who has a moderate mind and fortune, 5 and lives in the conversation of two or three agreeable friends, with little commerce in the world besides, who is esteemed well enough by his few neighbours that know him, and is truly irreproachable by any body; and so, after a healthful quiet life, before the great inconveniences lo of old age, goes more silently out of it than he came in (for I would not have him so much as cry in the exit) : this innocent deceiver of the world, as Horace calls him, this "muta persona," I take to have been more happy in his part, than the greatest actors that fill the stage with 15 show and noise, nay, even than Augustus himself, who askt with his last breath, whether he had not played his farce very well. Seneca, ex Thyeste, Act. II. Chor. " Stet, quicunque volet potens Aulae culmine lubrico," &c. 20 Upon the slippery tops of humane state. The guilded pinnacles of fate, Let others proudly stand, and, for a while The giddy danger to beguile, With joy, and with disdain, look down on all, 25 Till their heads turn, and down they fall. Me, O ye gods, on earth, or else so near That I no fall to earth may fear, And, O ye gods, at a good distance seat From the long ruins of the great. 30 Here wrapt in th' arms of quiet let me lye; Quiet, companion of obscurity. IN VERSE AND PROSE. 95 Here let my life with as much silence slide, As time, that measures it, does glide. Nor let the breath of infamy or fame. From town to town echo about my name. Nor let my homely death embroidered be 5 With scutcheon or with elogie. An old plebeian let me die, Alas, all then are such as well as I. To him, alas, to him, I fear. The face of death will terrible appear, 10 Who, in his life flattering his senseless pride. By being known to all the world beside. Does not himself, when he is dying, know, Nor what he is, nor whither he's to go. 96 DISCO UJ^SES BY WAY OF ESSAYS. IV. OF AGRICULTURE. |HE first wish of Virgil (as you will find anon by his verses) was to be a good philosopher ; the second, a good husbandman : and God 3^ (whom he seem'd to understand better than 5 most of the most learned heathens) dealt with him, just as he did with Solomon ; because he prayed for wisdom in the first place, he added all things else, which were subordinately to be desir'd. He made him one of the best philosophers and the best husbandmen; and, to lo adorn and communicate both those faculties, the best poet. He made him, besides all this, a rich man, and a man who desired to be no richer — "O fortunatus nimium, et bona qui sua novit!" To be a husbandman, is but a retreat from the city ; to 15 be a philosopher, from the world ; or rather, a retreat from the world, as it is man's, into the world, as it is God's. But, since nature denies to most men the capacity or appetite, and fortune allows but to a very few the 20 opportunites or possibility of applying themselves wholly to philosophy, the best mixture of humane affairs that we can make, are the employments of a country life. It is. IN VERSE AND PROSE. 97 as Columella calls it, " Res sine dubitatione proxima, et quasi consanguinea sapientise," the nearest neighbour, or rather next in kindred, to philosophy. Varro says, the principles of it are the same which Ennius made to be the principles of all nature, Earth, Water, Air, and 5 the Sun. It does certainly comprehend more parts of philosophy, than any one profession, art, or science, in the world besides : and therefore Cicero says, the pleasures of a husbandman, "mihi ad sapientis vitam ^ proxime videntur accedere," come very nigh to those 10 of a philosopher. There is no other sort of Hfe that affords so many branches of praise to a panegyrist : the utility of it, to a man's self; the usefulness, or rather necessity, of it to all the rest of mankind \ the innocence, the pleasure, the antiquity, the dignity. 15 The utihty (I mean plainly the lucre of it) is not so great, now in our nation, as arises from merchandise and the trading of the city, from whence many of the best estates and chief honours of the kingdom are derived : we have no men now fetcht from the plow to be 20 made lords, as they were in Rome to be made consuls and dictators; the reason of which I conceive to be from an evil custom, now grown as strong among us as if it were a law, which is, that no men put their children to be bred up apprentices in agriculture, as in other 25 trades, but such who are so poor, that, when they come to be men, they have not where-withal to set up in it, and so can only farm some small parcel of ground, the rent of which devours all but the bare subsistence of the tenant : whilst they who are proprietors of the land 30 are either too proud, or, for want of that kind of educa- tion, too ignorant, to improve their estates, though the means of doing it be as easie and certain in this, as in any other track of commerce. If there were always two L. c. 7 98 DISCOURSES BY WAY OF ESSAYS, or three thousand youths, for seven or eight years, bound to this profession, that they might learn the whole art of it, and afterwards be enabled to be masters in it, by a moderate stock, I cannot doubt but that we 5 should see as many aldermen's estates made in the country, as now we do out of all kind of merchandizing in the city. There are as many ways to be rich, and, which is better, there is no possibility to be poor, with- out such negligence as can neither have excuse nor lo pity ; for a little ground will, without question, feed a little family, and the superfluities of life (which are now in some cases by custom made almost necessary) must be supplyed out of the superabundance of art and industry, or contemned by as great a degree of phi- 15 losophy. As for the necessity of this art, it is evident enough, since this can live without all others, and no one other without this. This is Hke speech, without which the society of men cannot be preserved ; the others, like 20 figures and tropes of speech, which serve only to adorn it. Many nations have lived, and some do still, without any art but this : not so elegantly, I confess, but still they Hve ; and almost all the other arts, which are here practised, are beholding to this for most of their materials. 25 The innocence of this hfe is the next thing for which I commend it ; and if husbandmen preserve not that, they are much to blame, for no men are so free from the temptations of iniquity. They live by what they can get by industry from the earth ; and others, by what 30 they can catch by craft from men. They live upon an estate given them by their mother ; and others, upon an estate cheated from their brethren. They live, like sheep and kine, by the allowances of nature ; and others, like wolves and foxes, by the acquisitions of rapine. IN VERSE AND PROSE. 99 And, 1 hope, I may affirm (without any offence to the great) that sheep and kine are very useful, and that vrolves and foxes are pernicious creatures. They are, without dispute, of all men, the most quiet and least apt to be inflamed to the disturbance of the commonwealth : 5 their manner of life inclines them, and interest binds them, to love peace : in our late mad and miserable civil wars, all other trades, even to the meanest, set forth whole troops, and raised up some great com- manders, who became famous and mighty for the mis- 10 chiefs they had done : but I do not remember the name of any one husbandman, who had so considerable a share in the twenty years' ruine of his country, as to deserve the curses of his countrymen. And if great delights be joyn'd with so much inno- 15 cence, I think it is ill done of men, not to take them here, where tliey are so tame, and ready at hand, rather than hunt for them in courts and cities, where they are so wild, and the chase so troublesome and dangerous. We are here among the vast and noble scenes of 20 nature; we are there among the pitiful shifts of policy : we walk here in the light and open ways of the divine bounty; we grope there in the dark and confused labyrinths of humane malice : our senses are here feasted with the clear and genuine taste of their objects, which 25 are all sophisticated there, and for the most part over- whelmed with their contraries. Here, pleasure looks (methinks) like a beautiful, constant, and modest wife; it is there an impudent, fickle, and paintQd harlot. Here, is harmless and cheap plenty ; there, guilty and 30 expenceful luxury. I shall only instance in one delight more, the most natural and best-natured of all others, a perpetual companion of the husbandman ; and tliat is, the satisfac- loo DISCOURSES BY WAY OF ESSAYS, tion of looking round about him, and seeing nothing but the effects and improvements of his own art and diHgence ; to be always gathering of some fruits of it, and at the same time to behold others ripening, and 5 others budding : to see all his fields and gardens covered with the beauteous creatures of his own industry ; and to see, like God, tliat all his works are good : — Hinc atque hinc glomerantur Orcades; ipsi Agricolse taciturn pertentant gaudia pectus. lo On his heart-string a secret joy does strike. The antiquity of his art is certainly not to be con- tested by any other. The three first men in the world, were a gardener, a plowman, and a grazier; and if any man object, that the second of these was a murtherer, 15 I desire he would consider, that as soon as he was so, he quitted our profession, and turn'd builder. It is for this reason, I suppose, that Ecclesiasticus forbids us to hate husbandry ; ' because (says he) the Most High has created it.' We were all born to this art, and taught by 20 nature to nourish our bodies by the same earth out of which they were made, and to which they must return, and pay at last for their sustenance. Behold the original and primitive nobility of all those great persons, who are too proud now, not only to till 25 the ground, but almost to tread upon it. We may talk what we please of liUies, and lions rampant, and spread- eagles, in fields {i'or or d'argent; but, if heraldry were guided by reason, a plough in a field arable would be the most noble and antient arms. 30 All these considerations make me fall into the wonder and complaint of Columella, how it should come to pass that all arts or sciences (for the dispute, which is an art, and which a science, does not belong to the curi- osity of us husbandmen,) metaphysick, physick, morality, JN VERSE AND PROSE. loi mathematicks, logick, rhetorick &c. which are all, I grant, good and useful faculties, (except only metaphysick which 1 do not know whether it be anything or no ;) but even vaulting, fencing, dancing, attiring, cookery, carving, and such like vanities, should all have publick 5 schools and masters, and yet that we should never see or hear of any man, who took upon him the profession of teaching this so pleasant, so virtuous, so profitable, so honourable, so necessary art. A man would think, when he's in serious humour, 10 that it were but a vain, irrational, and ridiculous thing, for a great company of men and women to run up and down in a room together, in a hundred several postures and figures, to no purpose, and with no design ; and therefore dancing was invented first, and only practised 15 antiently, in the ceremonies of the heathen religion, which consisted all in mummery and madness; the latter being the chief glory of the worship, and accounted divine inspiration : this, I say, a severe man would think ; though I dare not determine so far against so 20 customary a part, now, of good-breeding. And yet, who is there among our gentry, that does not entertain a dancing-master for his children, as soon as they are able to walk ? But did ever any father provide a tutor for his son, to instruct him betimes in the nature and improve- 25 ments of that land which he intended to leave him ? That is at least a superfluity, and this a defect, in our manner of education ; and therefore I could wish (but cannot in these times much hope to see it) that one col- ledge in each university were erected, and appropriated 30 to this study, as well as there are to medicine and the civil law : there would be no need of making a body of scholars and fellows, with certain endowments, as in other coUedges ; it would suffice, if, after the manner of 102 DISCOUJ^SES BY WAY OF ESSAYS, halls in Oxford, there were only four professors consti- tuted (for it would be too much work for only one master, or principal, as they call him there) to teach these four parts of it : First, Aration, and all things re- 5 lating to it. Secondly, Pasturage. Thirdly, Gardens, Orchards, Vineyards, and Woods. Fourthly, all parts of Rural Oeconomy, which would contain the government of Bees, Swine, Poultry, Decoys, Ponds, &c. and all that which Varro calls villaticas pasfioncs, together with the lo sports of the field (which ought to be looked upon not only as pleasures, but as parts of house-keeping), and the domestical conservation and uses of all that is brought in by industry abroad. The business of these professors should not be, as is commonly practised in 15 other arts, only to read pompous and superficial lectures, out of Virgil's Georgicks, Pliny, Varro, or Columella ; but to instruct their pupils in the whole method and course of this study, which might be run through per- haps, with diligence, in a year or two : and the con- 20 tinual succession of scholars, upon a moderate taxation for their diet, lodging, and learning, would be a suffi- cient constant revenue for maintenance of the house and the professors, who should be men not chosen for the ostentation of critical literature, but for solid and expe- 25 rimental knowledge of the things they teach ; such men, so industrious and publick-spirited, as I conceive Mr. Hartlib to be, if the gentleman be yet alive : but it is needless to speak further of my thoughts of this design, unless the present disposition of the age allowed more 30 probability of bringing it into execution. What I have further to say of the country life, shall be borrowed from the poets, who were always the most faithful and affectionate friends to it. Poetry was born among the shepherds. TN VERSE AND PROSE. 103 Ncscio qua natale solum dulcedinc Mubas Ducit, et immemores non sinit esse sui. The Muses still love their own native place ; 'T has secret charms, which nothing can deface. The truth is, no other place is proper for their work ; 5 one might as well undertake to dance in a crowd, as to make good verses in the midst of noise and tumult. As well might corn, as verse, in cities grow ; In vain the thankless glebe we plow and sovr ; Against th' unnatural soil in vain we strive ; 10 'Tis not a ground, in which these plants will thrive. It will bear nothing but the nettles or thorns of satyre, which grow most naturally in the worst earth ; and therefore almost all poets, except those who were not able to eat bread without the bounty of great men, that 15 is, without what they could get by flattering of them, have not only withdrawn themselves from the vices and vanities of the grand world, pariter vitiisque jocisque Altius humanis exeruere caput, 20 into the innocent happiness of a retired life ; but have commended and adorned nothing so much by their ever- living poems. Hesiod was the first or second poet in the world that remains yet extant (if Homer, as some think, preceded him, but I rather believe they were 25 contemporaries) ; and he is the first writer too of the art of husbandry : " he has contributed (says Columella) not a little to our profession ; " I suppose, he means not a little honour, for the matter of his instructions is not very important : his great antiquity is visible through 30 the gravity and simplicity of his stile. The most acute of all his sayings concerns our purpose very much, and is couched in the reverend obscurity of an oracle. nXeW ly/xio-u 7rai/To9, The half is more than the whole. The I04 DISCOURSES BY WAY OF ESSAYS, occasion of the speech is this ; his brother Perses had, by corrupting some great men (l3a(rLX^a. lib. i. Pontani ed. 1697) p. 28, he speaks of Hipjiocrates (the famous physician of Cos) as one 'qui tam fallere quam falii nescit.' Page 3. 12. hundred years ago. We should now say 'hundreds of years ago.' 14. liave been discovered. How much more would Cowley have used language like this had he lived in our day ! But in the many applications of steam, electricity, photography, &c. we are reaping fruits such as he saw, though but to a small extent, would result from the pursuit of science in the systematic manner which he advocated. Many 'terrae incognitae' have been discovered, and there is the certainty that many are still 'behind to exercise our diligence.' 23. purchases. The original sense of 'purchase' was 'to procure,' 'to acquire,' by diligent effort, hence the noun here = acquisitions. The French pourchasser from which it comes to us has nothing of the meaning of 'buying for a price,' which is the usual sense of the word at present. So Wycliffe translates in i Pet. ii. 9, the l^^iiin populits acquisitionis , 'a people o{ ptcrchasying,'' of. Dryden, Palamon and Arcite bk. I, line 382, where speaking of the liberty granted to Arcite on the promise of Pirithous, 'And who but Arcite mourns his bitter fate, Finds his Ao.zx purchase and repents too late.' 30. sensible objects. The need for observation by the senses in addition to and in distinction from the contemplationby reason only, without experiment, is the great argument for Cowley's scheme. Cf. what he says in his ode on Harvey, the discoverer of the circulation: *Thus Harvey sought for truth in truth's own book, The creatures which by God himself was writ, And wisely thought 'twas fit Not to read comments only upon it. But on the original itself to look.' Page 4. 4. commentating. We now say 'commenting' but still pre- serve the longer form in the noun 'commentators.' NOTES. 189 9. abo7>e a thousand years. He intends to embrace the period anterior to Bacon, going back from 1600 A.D. to 600 a.d. J I. guns. Gunpowder seems to have been known in the 13th century and Roger Bacon, who died in 1-292 appears to have been acquainted with it. It was used in war at the battle of Crecy (1346) and it appears to have been employed at the siege of Algeziras by the Spaniards in 1343. print i Jig. Introduced into England by Caxton in 1471 but dis- covered in Germany and practised at Mainz by Gutenberg as early as 1457. 15. abounded With excellent inventions. Cowley died in 1667. He is alluding here specially to the discoveries which had been made between Bacon's time and his own. Among these wei^e such discoveries as he mentions p. 8, line 11. 24. his sacred Majesty. As the first edition was printed in i66r, the Monarch alluded to here is Charles II. The publisher of the 'Proposition' says that Cowley had allowed him to make it public since his going into France. Cowley went to France immediately after Cromwell's death. Page 5. I. the. . .colledge be situated. The reason for this choice of position is seen pp. 10 — 1 1, where an arrangement for lectures once or twice a week is proposed to be given ' in the hours in the afternoon most convenient for auditors from London.' Cowley designed his College to be under the constant influence of the public eye and public opinion. The proximity to the river is also specified because in his day the journey could be best and soonest made by water. 9. scholars., servants to the professors. The relation between student and tutor in former times much resembled that between servant and master. So too apprentices when bound to a trade, undertook while learning it, many household duties and services in no way appertaining to the craft which they were to be taught. Cf. on p. 92, 1. 22. 10. a baily. We have now returned more nearly to the derivation of the word (which is from the low Latin ballivus), in spelling it bailiff. The sense is seen in the French 'bailler'= *to deliver,' 'put into the charge of any one.' So, Holland's Plutarch, fol. 812, sleep is called 'a false baily' because she takes half of life for herself. a manciple. From the Latin 'manceps' used specially of the officer who takes in hand the provisioning of a college or inn. Cf. Chaucer's Prologue, 569 : 'A gentil manciple was there of a temple Of which achatours myghten take ensample For to ben wise in bying of vilaille.' 13. a chirurgeon. From the Greek x^^po^Pyos, but through the French the hard consonant was softened and the word became cirurgion, and from that was contracted into surgeon. 14. lungs, or chymical servants. In the Glossary to Ben Jonson ipo NOTES. we find 'Lnngs, a name given to an alchemist's servant... from his blowing the bellows of the furnace.' ' See The Alchemist ii. i. 28, where Sir Epicure Mammon speaking of Face, the alchemist's servant, says •That is his fire-drake, His Lungs, his Zephyrus, he that puffs his coals.' And later on in the same scene, line 141, ^ Lungs, I will manumit thee from the furnace, I will restore thee thy complexion, Pufife, Lost in the embers, and repair this brain Hurt with the fumes o' the metals.' Bacon, in the same fanciful way, in his 'New Atlantis' had made 'the father of Solomon's house' say 'We have three that take care to direct new experiments. These we call lamps.'' 17. beast. This word is often used in the singular form with a co'lective sense = cattle. Thus Judges xx. 48: 'They smote. ..as well the men of every city, as the beast and all that came to hand.' 26. dlet^ i.e. food, as distinguished from the cost of lodging and other service. 27. enter taintnent, the rest of their expenses. These two words represent what the Germans call 'kost und logis.' Page 6. 14. operatories, i.e. rooms for the various operations which are to be carried on ; work or operating-rooms. We have the form in 'laboratories.' 26. from leases. It was the custom to let trust-property on long leases, for the renewal of which a fine, sometimes of considerable amount was payable. It is to this occasional source of additional income that the allusion is made. Page 7. 18. if he pretend, i.e. lay a claim, or make an application, for the place. The word often conveys a notion of the groundlessness of the claim. Hence unsuccessful claimants of thrones have been often styled pretenders. 30. the Chartreux, i.e. the Carthusian monks. This order was founded in 1084 by St Bruno, who built an oratory and a cell on a mountain near Grenoble which subsequently was extended into the magnificent Benedictine convent known as La Grande Chartreuse. See also p. 49, 1. 30. 31. lined. The sense is that all round this inner court or cloister shall run a gravel walk to form the outermost inclosure, then all along the inner side of the walk shall be the row of trees. Page 8. 1 1 . the circulation of the blood. Discovered by William Harvey between 1619 and 1628. That the blood circulated through ihe lungs was known to Michael Servetus, a Spanish physician in 1553. NOTES. 191 the milky veins, otherwise called the lacteals, were first noticed in 1622, by Caspar Asellius, professor of anatomy at Pavia. Further advance was made in the researches on this subject, in 1634 by Wesling, professor of anatomy at Venice, and the discovery was completed by Pecquet, a French physician and anatomist in 1647. These discoveries were very recent in i66r, when Cowley's 'Propo- sition' was published. 12. elogies. (See also p. 12, 1. 19.) An ^/(^^'j properly signifies *a title or description' without any necessary connexion with praise Of compliment, but it is sometimes used as if equivalent to eulogy, i.e. a complimentary description. Cf. p. 95, 1. 6. 13. portraidures. The latter part of the word is derived from the Latin traho, whose participle is tracius, and in the earlier English writers there is a tendency to preserve the 'c' of the original in this derivative. Thus North, Plutarch, ii. 49 has 'Artemisia, whose pom-traidure I do herewith present you.' 28. lardry. The store-room for meat &c. So Holinshed, Hejiry III. (anno 1235), 'The citizens of Winchester had oversight of the kitchen and larderiei' Page 9. 24. Solomon's house in my Lord Bacon. Solomon's house, or as it is otherwise named, 'The college of the six days' works,' is an order or society described in Bacon's ' New Atlantis.' The Utopian nature of the scheme, 'experiments that can never be experimented,' to which Cowley alludes, is seen in such matters as the provision of houses for imitating and demonstrating meteors, snow, hail and rain ; the growing of plants without seeds, and making one tree or plant turn into another, &c. all which things are set forth by 'the father of Solomon's house,' who among other matters says ' We imitate also flights of birds ; we have some degrees of flying in the air ; we have ships and boats for going under water.' Page 10. 4. professors itinerate. We now use itinerajit in the sense of travelling. II. sitnples, i.e. herbs used for medicines. Cf. Browne, Britannia's Pastorals bk. 2, song 4: *0n every hillside and each vale he looks, If 'mongst their store of simples may be found An herb to draw and heal his smarting wound.' 28. the factnre. Superseded now by 7na)tufacture. The word is not common, but is found in Bacon's Essay 'on Learning.' 'There is no doubt but ihefadureox framing of the inward parts is as full of difference as the outward?' 29. natural magick. 'A magician (according to the Persian word) is no other than divinoriim cnltor et i?iterpres, a studious 192 NOTES. observer and expounder of divine things ; and the art itself (I mean the art of natural magick) no other than naturalis philosophicc absoluta consicnunatio, the absolute perfection of natural philosophy.' Ralegh, History of the Woi'ld, I. xi. 3. 31. Loi'd Bacon s Organon. Bacon's work is entitled 'Novum Organum sive indicia vera de interpretatione naturoe.' The cata- logue of natural histories to which Cowley here alludes is a list of 130 subjects into which natural science may be subdivided, and the history of which might form subjects of investigation. The first 40 of these divisions relate to natural phenomena, the elements, and the vegetable and animal world, the rest to man and the circumstances in which he lives and the operations in which he is engaged. Page ri. 14. take place, i.e. 'take precedence,' 'be at the head of.' arbitri diiariun mejisarmn, i.e. presidents of the two tables, at which it is appointed below (line 25) that the professors shall dine twice a week. 18. double voice, i.e. he shall have two votes, or as is now com- monly arranged, he shall have a casting vote in the case of equality. 21. if it be an extraordina)-}', i.e. an extraordinary order. The ordinary orders might be given by word of mouth, but this must be in writing. Page 12. 15. that 7nay b^'ing in profit. Cowley's scheme was in time to be self-supporting from the profits of inventions. We see too from p. 10, 1. 15, that from time to time as the revenues improved the itinerant professors were to be better paid. 20. deiiison. We now write denizen. The word is said to be Welsh. 28. furnish, i.e. provide the money. Cf. Shaks. Timon, ill. i. 20: 'My lord, having great and instant occasion to use fifty talents, hath sent to your lordship io furnish him.' Page 13. 2. evinced. Demonstrated and proved to be errors, and so con- quered (Lat. vinco) and driven away, cf. Burton, Anatomy, p. 368 : 'Arion made fishes follow him, which as common experience ^z//;/^^///, are much affected with music' 8. triennial. Here used to signify ' during the course of three years.' The usual sense of the word now is * at the end of every three years.' 34. fnnlct, a fine. The word is from the Italian fuultare, to fine. The verb is still in use but the noun is more rare. ' A vnilct thy poverty could never pay. Had not eternal wisdom found the way.' Dryden, Rel. Paid, 104. NOTES. 193 Page 14. 10. every nion/h. Probably once a month was the usual rule for the administration of the Holy Communion in Cowley's day. Such incidental notices of the habits of the time are valuable, cf. p. 17, 1. 7. 18. into six. Thus we see the 6 forms of a public school to have been the rule then. Page 15. 1. so near concernment, i.e. of such great importance and value. Cf Jer. Taylor, Rule of Conscience, bk. I. ch. i. 'In things of great concernment we pray God to conduct and direct our choice. ' 19. Varro. Marcus Terentius Varro, a Latin author, contem- porary with Cicero. His work here alluded to is entitled De re riistica. He was born R.c. 116 and died B.C. 28. Cato. M. Porcius Cato wrote a work also entitled De re rus- tica. He lived before Varro, dying B.C. 149. Cohimella. He was born at Cadiz, and flourished in the early part of the first century of the Christian era. He was one of the most voluminous Latin writers on rural matters. 20. Pliny. C. Plinius Secundus, the famous author of the Historia Natnralis. Pie was born A. D. 22 and died A. D. 79. Celsus. A. Corn. Celsus lived in the reigns of Augustus and Tiberius. The work of his which i-emains is a treatise 'de medicina.' He is often alluded to by Columella. Seneca. Best known as the tutor of the Emperor Nero. But among his other works he produced 'Quaestionum naturalium libri septem,' which is the reason why he is included here in Cowley's list. He was put to death by order of Nero A. D. 65. 22. Grotius. Hugo Grotius, a Dutch Statesman and Jurist, born in Delft a.d. 1583, died 1645. Among his works, which are numerous, the larger part however dealing with religious subjects, the only one which Cowley can have intended his philosophical students to read must have been the De jure belli et pads. Nemetiamis. M. Aurelius Nemetianus was a native of Africa, who lived in Italy about A. D. 243. He wrote on fishing, hunting and kindred subjects. Only portions of his works have been preserved to us. Manilins. The date of this writer is altogether uncertain. A work by him de Astrologia is all that remains, and its date has given rise to much discussion. 25. indulging to. Where we now should say 'indulgent to.' 29. parcels. The word was used in Cowley's day for a small portion of anything. Cf Shakespeare, Merry Wives, i. i. 237: 'Divers philosophers hold that the lips \% parcel oi\\\Q mouth.' 31. nniiseful. A rather uncommon form. L. C. \l 194 NOTES. Page i5. 7. Platitiis his. This mode of representing the possessive case in English was common in the r6th and 17th century writings. The idea was that the 's' of the possessive was a contraction lor the personal pronoun. This notion is however at once dispelled when we remember that 'Mary's' could not be a contraction for 'Mary his.' We have instance of this form in the Prayer-book where the prayer 'For all sorts and conditions of men' concludes with the words 'for Jesus Christ his sake.' Cf. also 'Epicurus his philosophy,' p. 76, 1. 5, also ' Vitellius his table,' p. 126, 1. 17. 10. Nicander. A Greek poet and physician who was born at Claros and flourished B.C. 135. He wrote a poem called 'Theriaca' on venomous animals, and the treatment of their wounds. Oppianus. A Greek writer at the close of the ^nd century cf the Christian era. He has left two poems, one on tishing, the other on hunting, and a prose work on hawking. Scaliger. Joseph Julius Scaliger, born 1540, died in Leyden (where he was Piofessor in the University) in 1609. He was a learned scholar, and devoted himself largely to criticism and correc- tion of classical texts. 11. doubt, i.e. 'hesitate.' Cf. Spenser, F. Q. iv. i. 48: 'Fond knight, said she, the thing that with this eye I saw, why should I doubt to tell the same?' 13. Theophrastus. A Greek philosopher, born in Lesbos. He was a contemporary of Plato. The books of his to which Cowley here refers are two works on botany, and some fragments on fire, the winds and matters of meteorology. Dioscorides. The name of several Greek physicians, one of whom was at the court of Cleopatra, B.C. 41 — 30. Under his name we have a treatise which deals with the plants growing in Greece, which was most likely the work in Cowley's thoughts. 16. Hermogenes. A Greek rhetorician A.D. 161 — i8o. His book on the 'Art of Rhetoric' teaches how to speak in courts of justice. It has been frequently edited and commented on. Longinus. Dionysius Cassius Longinus, a Greek philosopher who lived in the 3rd century of the Christian era. He has left among many other works a treatise on Rhetoric, and had such wide general knowledge that he was styled 'a living library.' i\. errors. An attempt had been made to disabuse the minds of men of such errors as are here alluded to by Sir Thomas Brown in his famous treatise on 'Vulgar Errors,' known also by the more learned-sounding title 'Pseudodoxia Epidemica.' As specimens of the errors with which he deals we may mention : ' That crystal is nothing else but ice strongly congealed : ' ' That a diamond is made soft or broke by the blood of a goat:' 'That a pot full of ashes will contain as much water as it would without them:' 'That an elephant has no joints:' 'That a wolf first seeing a man begets a dumbness in him:' 'That a salamander lives in the fire:' 'That NOTES. 195 the flesh of peacocks corrupteth not:' 'That men weigh heavier dead than aUve, and before meat than after.' 26. they should likewise tise^ i.e. 'practise.' Cf. Shakes. Troiliis, II. I. 52: 'If thou use to beat me, I will... tell what thou art.' 28. travel. For which we now write ' travail ' = trouble, labour. The two forms are from the same root, P'rench ii'availler, cf. Beau- mont and Fletcher, Pilgrivi, Act I. 'The saints ye kneel to hear and ease your travels' Page 17. I. scholars^ i.e. of the sixteen young scholars, servants to the professors (p. 5, 1. 8). Cowley uses scholars both for them and for the other pupils who are to have teaching in the College. 3. learn to dance. Cowley is not the first poet who has commended dancing. Perhaps the best known laudation of it is the 'Orchestra' of Sir John Davies, which is in the form of a dialogue between Penelope and one of her wooers. 7. days of devotion, i.e. fast and festival days appointed of the Church. See above on p. 14, 1. 10. 16. expences. Apparently in the sense of 'means,' 'ability,' 'what they were able to expend.' 29. hospital-like. The word 'hospital,' at first applied to a place for the reception and entertainment of strangers, later on became restricted to houses for the poor or sick. So 'hospital- like' = meagre, poverty-stricken, pinched. Page 18. I. abused, led astray, misled. Cf. Shak. Cyjub. I. 4. 124: 'You are a great deal abused in too bold a persuasion.' 15. explode. The original idea is 'to hiss a bad actor off the stage,' and hence, 'to drive away anything that is bad and false.' Cf. Milton, /^.Z. XI. 669; 'Him old and young Exploded: See also below p. 48, 1. 31. 16. false moneys. Cowley thus names any wrong opinions which have come to pass current for truth. We keep to the same metaphor in the expression 'pass current.' 24. by the by, i. e. superadded, in addition to all other good effects. 28. indifferently, 'impartially.' 'Judge of my life or death indifferently \ Spenser, F. Q. I. i. 51. Page 19. r. encounter zvith. In more modern English the preposition is omitted. But the full phrase is common in Shakespeare, cf. All's Well, 1. 3. 214: 'Let not your hate e?icounter zvith my love.' 13--2 196 NOTES. 9. reliques. Cowley has a liking for this orthography, which connects it with the Latin 'rcliquiai' from which it conies. Cf. also p. 113, 1. 20. A DISCOURSE BY WAY OF VISION CONCER- NING THE GOVERNMENT OF OLIVER CROMWELL. Page 20. I. It was the funeral day. Cromwell was buried in West- minster Abbey on Monday, 22nd Nov. 1658. He had died on his lucky day, 3rd Sept., the anniversary of the victories of Dunbar and Worcester. Evelyn notices the funeral in his diary: 'Saw the superb funerall of the Protector. He was carried from Somerset House in a velvet bed of state drawn by six horses, houssed with the same : the pall held by his new Lords : Oliver lying in efhgie in royal robes, and crowned with a crown, sceptre and globe like a king. The pendants and guidons were carried by the officers of the army; the imperial banners, atchievements &c. by the herauldes in their coates; a rich caparisoned horse, embroidered all over with gold ; a knight of honour armed cap a pie, and after all, his guards, souldiers, and innumerable mourners. In this equipage they pro- ceeded to Westminster; but it was the joyfullest funeral I ever saw, for there were none that cried but dogs, which the souldiers hooted away with a barbarous noise, drinking and taking tobacco in the streets as they went.' 3. little affection. In his 'verses upon His Majesty's Restaura- tion' Cowley speaks thus of Cromwell : 'Where's now that ignis fatinis that ere while Misled our wandering isle? Where's the impostor Cromwell gone ? ' 9. singular virtuosos. 'Virtuoso' is generally used of those persons who have skill in some special art. Here it would seem to mean those who had come to see the pageant out of curiosity. For the word cf. Glanvill, Essay 3, 'Another excellent virtuoso^ Mr John Evelyn, hath very considerably advanced the history of fruit and forest- trees.' 10. the mount in Cornzuall, i.e. St Michael's Mount, the southern extremity of the land, and a little beyond it; just as the Oirades, the Orkneys, in the next line are a little past the northern limit of our islands. All were assembled, as it were from Dan to Beer- sheba. ! 6. their brother'. Such being the style in which royal person- ages were spoken of by each other. Cf. i Kings xx. 32, 33. See also below p. 27, 1. 3, 'a brother to the gods of the earth.' 17. the herse. The ornamented carriage to bear the coffin at a NOTES. 197 funeral. Of the magnificence of the hearse on this occasion Evelyn's description bears witness. The word is now commonly spelt 'hearse.' the idol. At royal funerals there was often borne in the proces- sion a figure or effigy of the dead on a bier, and some of these are still preserved in the Abbey at Westminster, though not often shewn to the public. This image (Gk. elboAov) is what Cowley refers to, which on this occasion wore a crown, though he whom it repre- sented had not done so. Page 21. 3. metJioiights. A strange form, the 's' being due to the same letter at the end of 'methinks', but entirely without warrant in lan- guage. Cowley uses it in The Mistress, p. 1 1 : * But then, metJwitghts, there something shined within.' 16. vision. In visions a higher degree of revelation was sup- posed to be imparted than in dreams., mentioned in the next line. Cf. Select Discoicrses of Johti Smith., p. 184: ' The Jews are wont to make a vision superior to a dream, as representing things more to the life.' 18. father of poets, i.e. Homer. The allusion is to Iliad, I. 63: KoX yap r' ovap e'/c Aios eariv. 'For indeed a vision comes from Zeus.' 22. like St Paid. The allusion, which perhaps a very reverent taste would have dispensed with, is to 2 Cor. xii. 2, 3. That Cowley meant to be very reverent in all his employment of Scrip- tural language we see from p. 132, 1. 30. 23' fatuous hill in the island of Mona, i.e. Snowfield in the Isle of Man, which island is called Mona by Caesar {Bell. Gall. v. 13). 28. these tiventy years. Meaning the time of Cromwell's power, and the troublous years by which it was preceded, going back to the days of the 'Solemn League and Covenant.' Cf. p. 25, 1. 4. The civil war dates from 1641. 30. a sighing. The a thus used before the gerundive is a corruption of the preposition on. Cf. Shakes. Romeo, ill. i. 194: 'My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a bleeding * Page 22. 3. forsook. For forsaken.^ Cf. Shakes. Othello, iv. 2. 125: 'Hath i\\e. forsook so many noble matches.' 24. turned only into noise. The 'face and substance' to which Cowley alludes in these lines was the regular appointed order of prayer; whereas, during the Conuiionwealth, the Prayer-book was superseded by the 'Directory for Publique Worship,' which left much to the discretion of the minister. This our author compares to a real personality being turned into mere noise. Page 23. 6. will hardly be, i.e. that will hardly be. 198 NOTES. lo. BeiUam. A corrupted form of Bethlehem, the name of the hospital in London devoted to the treatment of the insane. See p. 154, 1. 10. 14. barbarous Britons. Alluding to the custom of the early inhabitants of this island to paint their bodies with woad. There is another allusion to the practice on p. 14. 1. 24. 22. French inconstancie. The ticldeness of the Gallic race has long been proverbial. Csesar, B, G. 11. i, speaks of their mobilitas et lev it as anivii. Page 24. 4. threat. For 'threaten.' Used only in verse and as a present tense. Cf. Shakespeare, Macbeth, I J. i. 60: 'Whiles I threat, he lives.' 13. the royal martyr'' s prayer. There is a prayer at the close of each section of the ' Eikon Basilike,^ a work long supposed to be the composition of King Charles I., and by some still thought to be so. There are also, appended to the book, four private prayers used by his Majesty in the time of his sufferings. 16. his blond beloiv. This would cry for vengeance, and for this the soul of the king is supposed not to pray, but only for bless- ings on the land. 21. in the cvcnin^^, i.e. when shadows would be longest. 27. the battel 0/ Naseby. This, which was the most fatal battle to the cause of the Royalists, might be expected to be prominently depicted on the body of such a being as this 'strange and terrible apparition' turns out to be. Naseby was fought on 15 June, 1645, and from that time the death of Charles seems to have begun to form a part of the plans of Cromwell. 29. gnest, i.e. guessed. Cowley uses largely, but with much inconsistency, these forms of the preterite in 't' for 'ed.' Here the form appears the stranger by reason of the omission of one 's' from the root. Page 25. 2. i.e. * Peace is sought by war. ' 4. Acts, Ordinances. Enactments of the nature here described under various titles were multiplied during the period of the Com- monwealth. 7. qnelled, i.e. 'quailed,' 'terrified.' The original sense of the word is 'to kill.' So by Shakespeare (2 Hen. IV. 11. i. 58) murderers are called 'manquellers.' For the sense in the text, cf. Dryden, Annus Mirabilis, Ixxvi. i, •If number English courages could quell.* II. nortli-ioest principality. That being the quarter in which Great P)ritain lies in respect of the other countries of Europe. 26. Richard III., brother to Edward IV., and therefore uncle to Edward V. and his brother the Duke of York, whom he caused to be murdered in the Tower. 27. he presently sleiu the commojnvealth. This has reference to NOTES. 199 the way in which Cromwell, finding the Long Parliament not so obedient to him as he expected, dissolved it in conjunction with his council of officers (April 20, 1653). Cf. p. 26, 1. 25, 'to trample upon them too &c. ' 30. did but f?iu}-der a inurderer. For the Parliament had already put to death the King. 33. Turk. This word was used as the impersonation of the worst of enemies. Even such a one however, if his purpose had been understood and constant, would have been better than Cromwell with his perpetual changes. Page 26. 5. use, i.e. are wont. See below, p. 50, I. 29, and p. 86, 1. 19, and cf. Shakes. 2 Henry IV. v. 2. 114, 'The unstained sword which you have used to bear.' 7. jealotisie, i.e. suspicion that he was not the angel he professed to be. 9. forreign correspondences. Cromwell's influence abroad was veiy great. He was in the closest correspondence with France, Christina queen of Sweden esteemed him highly, he exercised great influence over the Dutch, and his friendship was sought after by the Spaniards. Bp. Warburton compares him to Julius Csesar. See below on p. 27, 1. 14. Page 27. 6. a new arid unheard-of monster. This was the Parliament which assembled on July 4th, 1653. ^^ was nominated by Cromwell, as Lord General, and his council of war, and was intended to consist exclusively of men distinguished by holiness of life and piety of con- versation. The Ministers of the Congregational Churches sent in lists of men 'faithful, fearing God, and hating covetousness, ' and from these lists Cromwell made choice of about 150 members. As there was no pretence of any election Cowley calls this gathering *a new and unheard-of monster.' 7. stifle that in the very infancy. The innovations proposed by the Bareljones' parliament, as the new and unheard-of monster was called, were so startling, including the abolition of the court of Chancery, the repeal of all the old laws, and the formation of a new and simple code, &c. that Cromwell soon found he had mistaken his instruments, and the military council resolved that these troublesome legislators should be sent l)ack to their parishes. Thus the govern- ment came entirely into the hands of the Lord General and his officers. This was on 12th Dec. 1653, and four days afterwards Cromwell was installed as 'Lord Protector.' The large powers given to the Protector by the 'Instrument of Government' are alluded to in the next line. 12. each corner of the three nations. That England was com- pletely sul)servieut to him is manifest from what has been just said in the previous notes. In Ireland he had taken Drogheda, Wexford had been betrayed to him, as also Cork, and his command had been 206 NOTES. so suceessful that when he was sent for by the parliament, he could leave Ireton as his deputy. Scotland was entirely broken after the battle of Dunbar, and there Monk was left as Cromwell's representa- tive. 14. feared and courted by all for reign princes. On this cf. Clarendon, XV. 152. who says among other things : " His greatness at home Avas but a shadow of the glory he had aljroad. It was hard to discover which feared him most, P'rance, Spain or the Low Countries, where his friendship was current at the value he put upon it. And as they did all sacrifice their honour and their interest to his pleasure, so there is nothing he could have demanded, that either of them would have denied him." 19. hoo 7>iillions a year. This alludes to the 'Humble petition and advice' by which there was assigned to the Protector a million a year as a perpetual revenue for the pay of the army and the fleet and ;/^300.ooo for the support of the civil government. Other funds had previously been assigned to him by the 'Instrument of Oovernment.' 25. to bequeath all this with one tvord to his posterity. Cf. Clarendon XV. 146: "He did not think he should die till even the time that his spirits failed him, and then he declared that he did appoint his son to succeed him, his eldest son Richard." Page 28. I. what kind of angel. Cf. p. 30, 1. 2, *to give even the devil (as they say) his right.' II. by an angel. The allusion is probably to Gal. i. 8. So the words ' Christ forbids' must be taken as signifying 'Christ in the person of His apostle St Paul.' 12. rather to try than to tempt, i.e. to test rather than to lead astray. 25. taxes of scarce ttvo hundred thousand pounds a year. The whole revenue of Charles I. was ;^