HIOOOO 0900 0090009000 0000 0900 0000 000 00000 oo 305 Oe ccCeCCeecccccc) D syesyce .*) \*) up ] IDIOWOQNONty § CONC COT GWOT NoNICUONOIoNONIoNoNIoioNoion Alli qh & J ] COHEN Occccccecce n ine in ink NS HOVOUVNONONIONONONONONONONe ys i ll oNoNoNoNoNo he Book-Lover’s BruchtvtIton ; HQUONOMNIOONDNONoVoT ono} rox LOsscl4 i S< O35 > ) 0 4 09000900090009000000) i FS = = >, s MOIOIONCIO DIO ONoNOION OOO ONOnonolcionONolONONO ONGNONGNONOIONSioroOoIoionoNoloioiooron C) 999900000 00000000 THOUGHTS ON THE Solace AND Companionship Books, AND TOPICS INCIDENTAL THERETO j5 Ai hh | 9090000000000 000000009000 0000 0000 A 000009000000 OVWNONON 099000090 09000000 09000000090000000 0000000 0000000000000 0000 009000900000 000090000000 000000000000 0000 00000000 @), OMONOMONIDIONIONONDONONOMONOVNONONONoNOVoNGton iOS 0909000000000 000000000000 90000000 000 ) ih il e000 i GARNERED FROM WRITERS OF EVERY AGE FOR THE HELP AND BETTERMENT OF ALL READERS. i i) Hl NS il im BY Alexander Lreland, AUTHOR OF “MEMOIR AND RECOLLECTIONS OF RALPH WALDO EMERSON ;”" ‘BIBLIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL ACCOUNT OF THE WRITINGS OF WILLIAM HAZLITT AND LEIGH HUNT, AND PAPER ON CHARLES LAMB;”’ ETC., ETC. lh il S MONCNOMONONMOIONONOIONonONoIoNoIo OL OloNooNooveNoM Tl | (OVNOWONOVONONONONONONONONONOVoNoNOWoNoNoW | | On Hondon : SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, & CO. 1883. 200000000000 0000 0000 0000090000000 000000000000 0000 OOO CUCINA OVNI MoNNOONGIoNS 3 3 3 3 3 3 : 3 Qo ol g a o Q a a a a Q OL a Q g Q) Q O: G gl Q a} a Q Q) Oz oz Oo QO oe ia o Q G Q a a a a Qo a= a og Q a El: S) \e] a @x @ © 909900000000 0000 00000000 0000000000000 HOU ONO ONO IONONONoNoVowoNouoN 1 OOO Oe, 1900000000000 000000000000 0000000000000000) DUD HOnol ADVERTISEMENT TO THE THIRD AND ENLARGED EDITION. The sale, within ten months, of two editions of “The Book-Lover’s Enchiridion” has encouraged the compiler to prepare a third and much enlarged edition, enriched by the addition of nearly two hundred pages of quotations from writers of the past as well as the present, bearing on Books, which the exigencies of space and size compelled him to exclude in the previous editions. In compliance with the wishes of many readers, he has printed the volume in a larger size of type, a change which will, no doubt, make it more generally acceptable. PTREBA CE, ONE of the mottoes to this volume gives the key-note to its contents. ‘‘ Infinite riches in a little room ”— a line from Christopher Marlowe, the dramatist— describes aptly what the reader will find in it. My object has been to present, in chronological order, the summed-up testimonies of the most notable Book- ~ Lovers on the subject of Books, and the Habit and Love of Reading. The writers from whom I have made selections range from Solomon and Cicero to Carlyle, Emerson, and Ruskin. On this bead-roll of illustrious names— Which down the steady breeze of honour sail, will be found those of Horace, Seneca, Plutarch, Richard de Bury, Petrarch, Chaucer, Erasmus, Machiavelli, Luther, Ascham, Montaigne, Bacon, Shakespeare, Daniel, Bishop Hall, Fuller, Milton, Baxter, Cowley, Locke, Addison, Johnson, Gibbon, Goethe, Wordsworth, Lamb, Southey, Hazlitt, Landor, De Quincey, Leigh Hunt, Bulwer, Macaulay, Herschel, Carlyle, Emerson, Oliver Wendell Holmes, John Bright, James Russell Lowell, Ruskin, and many others too numerous to mention, The reader will find in the following pages the deli- berate utterances of the wisest and most searching spirits 435762 vi PREFACE. of our race upon the subject of Books—their steadfast and unpresuming friendship and silent counsels—the consolation they afford in every variety of circumstance and fortune, and the ceaseless delights they bring us at a trifling cost, and without any trouble or previous arrangement. The writers of the present century have contributed, as a matter of course, most largely to the general store of thought on the subject to which this volume is specially devoted. Some living authors, and the representatives of others who have passed away, have kindly allowed me to make use of precious matter which, without their permission, I could not have presented to my readers. It will be seen that I have confined myself to no peculiar class of writers, but welcomed every variety of thought, from whatever quarter it may have come. Wherever I could find a passage suitable to my purpose, I have not hesitated to adopt it, no matter who was the author. No section of the world’s literature (English and American literature more especially) which was likely to contri- bute to my subject has been left unexplored. Apostles and philosophers, archbishops, bishops, and learned doctors of both the churches, dissenting divines, heretical writers of every shade of unorthodoxy, legis- lators, historians, biographers, and men of science, novelists, dramatists, writers on art, critics, essayists grave and gay, and the sons and daughters of song, have been laid under tribute to furnish material for this garner of thought bearing upon Books. PREFACE. vii To some readers it may appear that my selections from certain writers occupy too large a space when compared with that assigned to others. I may be permitted to say a word in explanation. It has been with regret that I have been unable to find any passages on the subject-matter of this volume in the works of some authors from whom I would have been only too glad to quote. I may mention, among others, Fielding, Goldsmith, Scott, Dickens, Thackeray, Browning, and Tennyson. When the reader finds only a sentence or two—perhaps not even a line—from writers whom we know to have been ardent Book-Lovers, he may conclude that they have left no recorded thoughts exactly suitable to the object of the present volume. Beautiful passages in the domains of reflection, emotion, description, and imagination I could have found in abundance in she works of many authors who have yielded me nothing which I could add to my store; for it must be borne in mind that I have had to confine myself strictly and rigidly to what was applicable to my special theme, and resolutely to reject matter of surpassing excellence not pertinent to it, either directly or incidentally, I may also say that I have, in the case of almost every author, gone to the original sources for my matter, selecting direct from the works of the writers quoted; so that the correctness of the text may be relied upon. In a few cases only have I adopted passages from existing collections of extracts. Vili PREFACE, It is hoped that this volume will meet some of the special needs and moods of those who are thoughtful, reverent, and earnest—and who seek to gain from books something more enduring than passing amuse- ment. My object has been to bring together, from the reading of a life-time, a body of thought, old and new, which cannot fail to be welcome to those who find their purest and highest enjoyment in studious contem- plation ; who love to retire from ‘‘ the fretful stir un- profitable, and the fever of the world,” and dwell for a time in ‘‘the heaven revealed to meditation;” and who feel their inner life sustained and refreshed by a knowledge of the consolations which the most gifted minds have ever found in Books. If these pages should assist the young in strengthen- ing good resolutions in the direction of self-culture and self-help; or, in the case of those who have passed life’s meridian, aid in beguiling or brighten- ing hours made heavy by care or sorrow, by bringing them into closer contact with superior souls, who in similar—perhaps even more trying circumstances—have sought and found solace in the companionship of other men’s thoughts, I shall be amply rewarded, and feel that my labour of love has not been in vain. ALEXANDER IRELAND. INGLEWOOD, Bowpon, CHESHIRE, September, 188}. CHRONOLOGICAL LIST OF AUTHORS QUOTED. SOLOMON SOCRATES PEATO.. . ae ite ALEXANDRIAN LIBRARY .. CICERO HORACE SENECA St. Pau QUINTILIAN PEUTARCH”, . PLiny, THE YOUNGER GOSPEL OF ST. MATTHEW Autus GELLIUS FROM THE PERSIAN HInbDvu SAYING FROM THE PERSIAN BisHop RICHARD DE Bury FRANCESCO PETRARCA Dominico MANCINI GEOFFREY CHAUCER-.s Tuomas A Kempis J. Fortius RINGELBERGIUS DESIDERIUS ERASMUS NiccoLo MACHIAVELLI .. ANTONIO DE GUEVARA .. Martin LUTHER .. RoGErR ASCHAM : MICHEL DE MONTAIGNE.. JOSEPH SCALIGER.. B.C. 1033— 975 468— 399 427— 347 300— ro6— 41 65— 8 Bc. A.D 58— 32 A.D. — 65 42— II5 46— 120 6I— 105 117— 180 1287—1345 1304—1374 1328—1400 1380—1471 —1536 1467—1536 1469—1527 —1544 1483—1546 I515—1568 1537—1592 1540—1609 x CHRONOLOGICAL LIST JouN FLorio ae a sa Book oF COMMON Paine is ri be JouNn LYLYE va - Sir Puitie SIDNEY Ay ag -s Lorp CHANDOS Lorp Bacon ee SAMUEL DANIEL .. ae WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE mans De ALONZO OF ARRAGON OLp ENGLISH SONG A SIXTEENTH CENTURY Wee BisHop JosEPpH HALL JOHN FLETCHER .. HENRY PEACHAM.. ROBERT BuRTON .. Sir THoMAS OVERBURY.. JoHN Haves BALTHASAR Bones ce nomen FRANCIS OSBORNE Ae Ae as LEo ALLATIUS .. x GEORGE WITHER... ie JAMES SHIRLEY ae ns JEAN EUSEBE Mieeronaiatses Srr WILLIAM WALLER .. Rev. AnToNy TUCKNEY a FRANCESCO DI RIOJA PETER DU MOULIN A ris Dr. JoHN EARLE.. a Ae ve Str WiLL1AM DAVENANT Str THomas BROwnNeE .. Ape Dr. THomas FULLER .. ats AB JoHN Mitton .. ac we EARL OF CLARENDON Sir MattTHew HALE .. ae SAMUEL SORBIERE 5 AS OwEN FELTHAM .. Ms Dr. BENJAMIN WHICHCOTE 1545—1625 1549 I1553—1601 1554—1586 “—1621 1561—1629 1562—1619 1564—1616 1574—1656 15706—1625 —1640 1576—1640 1581—1613 1584—1656 1584—1659 —1659 1586—1669 1588—1667 1594—1666 1595—1658 1597—1668 1599—1670 1600—1659 1600—1684 1601—1665 1605—1668 1605—1682 1608—1661 1608—1674 1608—1674 1609—1676 1610—1670 1610—1678 1610—1683 OF AUTHORS. EARLY ENGLISH WRITER M. Tornarp ud : BIsHoP JEREMY ie Duc DE LA ROCHEFOUCAULD .. Gites MENAGE .. = EARL OF BEDFORD ae $c URBAN CHEVREAU a Rev. RicHarD BAXTER.. Dr. JOHN OWEN .. ABRAHAM COWLEY THOMAS V. BARTHOLIN.. FRANCIS CHARPENTIER .. HENRY VAUGHAN.. 48 JouN HAL... 5d ie 3c Str WILLIAM TEMPLE .. 58 Dr. Isaac BARROW CHARLES COTTON.. BisHop HuEetT Joun Locke AG we Dr. RoBERT SOUTH ae Str GEORGE MACKENZIE JOHN DE LA BRUYERE .. PIERRE BAYLE A SEVENTEENTH gical Orv . Rev, JEREMY COLLIER . 2 ARCHBISHOP FENELON .. a¢ CHARLES BLOUNT 5 6 THomas Futter, M.D.. ae ; EDMUND HALLEY Rev. JoHN Norris OF vee ai JONATHAN SWIFT WILLIAM CONGREVE .. aS Str RICHARD STEELE .. JOSEPH ADDISON .. iy te Dr. Isaac WaTTS = %3 Rev. Convers MIDDLETON ALEXANDER POPE as a3 xi 1613—1667 1613—1680 1613—1692 1613—1700 1613—1701 1615—1691 1616—1683 1618—1667 1619—1680 1620—1702 1621—1695 1627—1656 1628—1698 1630—1677 1630—1687 1630—172I 1632—1704 1633—1716 1636—1691 1644—1696 1647—1706 1650—1726 165I—1715 1654—1697 1654—1734 1656—1742 1657—1711I 1667—1745 1670—1729 1671—1729 1672—1719 1674—1748 1683—1750 1688—1744 xii CHRONOLOGICAL LIST Baron MONTESQUIEU Lapy Mary WorTLEY Monrace Lorp CHESTERFIELD .. A FRANCOIS M. A. DE our Aine Ar MatTTHEW GREEN oe Henry FIELDING.. SAMUEL JOHNSON Davip HuME JEAN JACQUES Peverece LAURENCE STERNE Denys DIDEROT .. WILLIAM SHENSTONE Horace WALPOLE OLIvER GOLDSMITH ; = : Rev. Witt1am Dopp ... aa - GOTTHOLD EprHRAIM LESSING EDMUND BURKE .. we as Dr. JoHN Moore WILLIAM COWPER Epwarp GIBBON... J. G. von HERDER ae ce Sir WILLIAM JONES .. ve % DANIEL WYTTENBACH .. Fe 25 CouNTESS DE GENLIS .. oe Dr. JOHN AIKIN.. RICHARD CECIL J. WOLFGANG VON Gomae Tomas DE YRIARTE ELIZABETH INCHBALD .. aa WILLIAM ROSCOE GEORGE CRABBE .. WILLIAM GODWIN FRIEDRICH SCHILLER WILLIAM COBBETT Sir S. EGerTON BryDGES Jean Paut F. RICHTER Dr. JOHN FERRIAR 1689—1755 1690—1762 1694—1773 1694—1778 1696—1737 1707—1754 1709—1784 1712—1776 I712—1778 I713—1768 1713—1789 I714—1763 1717—1797 1728—1774 1729—1777 1729—1781 1729—1797 1730—1802 I173I—1800 1737—1794 1744—1803 1746—1794 1746—1820 1746—1830 1747—1822 1748—1816 1749—1832 I1750—1791 1753—1821 1753—1831 1754—1832 1750—1836 1759—1805 1762—1835 1762—1837 1763—1825 1764—1815 OF AUTHORS. Isaac DISRAELI .. nie Bs ax Joun Foster... ae WILLIAM WORDSWORTH SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE .. ROBERT SOUTHEY CHARLES LAMB WALTER SAVAGE Danton Witiiam Hazvirt Lorp BROUGHAM.. Rev. CHARLES C.. COLTON Dr. WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING WASHINGTON IRVING LeicuH Hunt : Tuomas LOvE Peieock THOMAS DE QUINCEY ARCHBISHOP WHATELY .. Bryan W. PrRocTER (BARRY Cane eye Lorp Byron ‘a Me oe a Dr. ARNOTT ars ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER CHARLES KNIGHT Lorp MaHoNn Str JOHN HERSCHEL Dr. ARNOLD Jupce TALFOURD Rev. Jutius C. Hare.. Tuomas CARLYLE HARTLEY COLERIDGE BisHop THIRLWALL A. Bronson ALCOTT Lorp Macautay.. WILLIAM CHAMBERS JAMES CROSSLEY .. EARL OF SHAFTESBURY.. ROBERT CHAMBERS CHIEF JUSTICE COCKBURN VicroRe HUGO... 36 xill 1767—1848 1770—1843 I770—1850 1772—1834 1774—1843 1775—1834 1775—1864 1778—1830 1778—1868 1780—1832 1780—1842 1783—1859 1784—1859 1785—1866 1786—1859 1787—1863 1787—1874 1788—1824 1788—1824 1788—1860 1791—1873 1791—1875 I792—1871 1795—1842 1795—1854 © 1795—1855 I795—1881 1796—1849 1797—1875 1799 (living) 1800—1859 1800—1883 1800—1883 1801 (living) 1802—1871 1802—1880 1802 (living) xiv CHRONOLOGICAL LIST Lorp LytTon (E. L. BuLwer) ad be RatpH WALDO EMERSON RiIcHARD COBDEN ric Ae ne Rev. FREDERICK DENISON MACE ss SAMUEL PALMER... Lorp BEACONSFIELD as HENRY WADSWORTH TONGFELEOW An Mrs. CAROLINE NorTON GeEorGE S. HILLARD .. , oe ELIZABETH BARRETT Becwinee oe Rev. Ropert ARIS WILLMOTT Dr. JoHN Hitt Burton Dr. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES WILLIAM EWART GLADSTONE Lorp HovucutTon (R. M. MILNEs) Rey. THEODORE PARKER Be Dr. JoHN Brown ds ae oe W. M. THACKERAY 56 es Joun BricutT . Lorp SHERBROOKE cRdseer Lowe) FRANCIS BENNOCH ve Rev. GEORGE GILFILLAN ae ae Rev. Henry WarpD BEECHER Sara P. Parton (FANNY FERN) ANTHONY TROLLOPE ; Rev. FREDERICK WILLIAM Roan teat GEORGE S. PHILLIPS (JANUARY SEARLE) .. Joun G. SAxE : PHILIP JAMES BAILEY .. Sir ARTHUR HELPS Eviza Cook Rev. CHARLES reece: Joun Ruskin .. 24: James RussELL LOWELL WALT WHITMAN.. ae me e Marian Evans (GEORGE Ria GEORGE Dawson.. 1803—1873 1803—1882 1804—1865 r805—1872 1805—1881 r805—1881 1807—1882 1808—1877 1808 (living) 1809—1861 1809—1862 1809—1881 1809 (living) 1809 5, 1809 ;, 1810—1860 1810—1882 1811—1863 1811 (living) TOLL, FOTS) ys 1813—1878 1813 (living) 1814 ;, r815—1882 1816—1853 1816— (7) 1816— 1816 (living) 1817—1875 1818 (living) 1819—1875 1819 (living) TSEON 55 TEIGIass 1820—1881 1821—1876 CO) Pee OLeoe XV ROBERT LEIGHTON ah a ue .. 1822—r1869 CHARLES BuxTON or es ie .. 1822—1871 J. A. LANGForRD .. = ae we -» 1823 (living) Rev. ROBERT COLLYER.. 5¢ ar Ap OEE 9G. JAMES Hain FRISWELL 3c re -. 1827—1878 C. KEGAN PAUL .. de an te .. 1828(living) ALEXANDER SMITH bie : .- 1830—1867 W. H. Ranps (MaTTHEW Bacwxe) aie -—1882 FREDERIC HARRISON .. : me .. 1831 (living) Eart Lytton (OWEN Mineorray LOS Lines Puitip GILBERT HAMERTON .. 5th By BRY Ep FRANK Carr (LAUNCELOT Cross) .. wen LO34) 55 FRANCES R. HAVERGAL si = .. 1836—1879 WiLiiaM BLADES.. Re ae ay ne (Living) WILLIAM FREELAND .. #5 ote as 5 Epwin P. WHIPPLE .. Ag ey ; “3 Witiiam E. A. Axon .. a 3 Ar Ay ANDREW LANG .. Be ae ae ae i Rev. JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE Ae Ae > AUSTIN DOBSON .. a5 ve At ae -. Rospert Louis STEVENSON .. i 3 ie CHARLES F, RICHARDSON og me ae “5 Rev. R. H. Baynes .. i, Ag ne * Mrs. R. C, WATERSTON ws Ye ‘is ¥ Mary C. Ware .. ay ate m2 $3 a ANONYMOUS AUTHORS. REMARKS ON Book-BORROWERS. PRELUDE OF MOTTOES. SOLOMON, He that walketh with wise men shall be wise. ST. PAUL, Give attendance to reading. SENECA, If you devote your time to study, you will avoid all the irksomeness of this life; nor will you long for the approach of night, being tired of the day; nor will you be a burden to yourself, nor your society insupportable to others. PETRARCH. Books never pall on us. . . . They discourse with us, they take counsel with us, and are united to us by a certain living familiarity. It is easy to gain access to these friends, for they are always at my service, and I admit them to my company, or dismiss them from it, whenever I please. They are never troublesome, but immediately answer every question I ask them. oles MONTAIGNE, To divert myself from a troublesome fancy, ’tis but to run to my books. They“always receive me with the same kindness. The sick man is not to be lamented, who has his cure in his sleeve. In the experience and practice of this sentence, which is a very true one, all the benefit I reap from books consists. For it is not to be imagined to what degree I please myself, and rest content in this consideration, that I have them by me, to divert myself with them when I am so disposed, and to call to mind what an ease and assistance they are to my life. ’Tis the best vzaticunz I have yet found out for this human journey, and I very much lament those men of understanding who are unprovided of it. BACON. For Friends, although your lordship be scant, yet I hope you are not altogether destitute ; if you be, do but look upon good . books: they are true friends, that will neither flatter nor dis- semble: be you but true to yourself, applying that which they teach unto the party grieved, and you shall need no other com- fort, nor counsel. To them and to God’s holy Spirit, directing you in the reading of them, I commend your lordship.—Lefter to Chief fustice Coke. MILTON. For Books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potencie of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny they are; nay, they do preserve as in a violl the purest efficacie and extraction of that living intellect that bred them. . A good book is the precious life-blood of a master spirit, embalm’d and treasur’d up on purpose to a life beyond life. Sir THOMAS BROWNE. They do most by books, who could do much without them ; and he that chiefly owes himself unto himself, is the substantial man. POPE. At this day, as much company as I have kept, and as much as I love it, I love reading better. I would rather be employed in reading than in the most agreeable conversation. GIBBON. A taste for books is the pleasure and glory of my life. Itisa taste which I would not exchange for the wealth of the Indies. The miseries of a vacant life are never known to a man whose hours are insufficient for the inexhaustible pleasure of study. WORDSWORTH. - « + Books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good ; Round which, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, Our pastime and our happiness will grow. CHARLES LAMB. I must confess that I dedicate no inconsiderable portion of my time to other people’s thoughts. I dream away my life in others’ speculations. I love to lose myself in other men’s minds. When I am not walking, Iam reading; I cannot sit and think. Books think forme. I have norepugnances. . . . I canread any- thing which I call a 4004. There are things in that shape, however, which I cannot allow for such. . . . With these exceptions, I can read almost anything. I bless my stars fora taste so catholic, so unexcluding. WILLIAM HAZLITT. Books wind into the heart. . . . We read them when young, we remember them when old. We read there of what has happened to others; we feel that it has happened to ourselves. We owe everything to their authors, on this side barbarism. . . Even here, on Salisbury Plain, with a few old authors, I can manage to get through the summer or winter months, without ever knowing what it is to feel ezuz. They sit with me at break- fast; they walk out with me before dinner—and at night, by the blazing hearth, discourse the silent hours away. Books let us into the souls cf men, and lay open to us the secrets of ourown. ‘They are the first and last, the most home- felt, the most heart-felt of all our enjovments. LEIGH HUNT. How pleasant it is to reflect that the greatest lovers of Books have themselves become books. . . . Thelittle body of thought that lies before me in the shape of a book has existed thousands of years ; nor, since the invention of printing, can anything, short of an universal convulsion of nature, abolish it. . . . Mayl hope to become the meanest of these existences? I should like to remain visible in this shape. The little of myself that pleases myself, I could wish to be accounted worth pleasing others. I should like to survive so, were it only for the sake of those who love me in private, knowing as I do what a treasure is the posses- sion of a friend’s mind, when he is no more. At all events, nothing, while I live and think, can deprive me of my value for such treasures. I can help the appreciation of them while I last, and love them till I die; and perhaps, if fortune turns her face once more in kindness upon me before I go, I may chance, some guiet day, to lay my over-beating temples on a book, and so have the death I most envy. CARLYLE. It is lawful for the solitary wight to express the love he feels for those companions so stedfast and unpresuming, that go orcome without reluctance, and that, when his fellow-animals are proud, or stupid, or peevish, are ever ready to cheer the languor of his soul, and gild the barrenness of life with the treasures of bygone times. If a Book come from the heart, it will contrive to reach other hearts; all art and author-craft are of small account to that. . . . In Books lies the sozZ of the whole Past Time; the articulate audible voice of the Past, when the body and material substance of it has altogether vanished like a dream. . . All that Mankind has done, thought, gained, or been; it is bane as in magic preservation in the pages of Books. EMERSON. In the highest civilization the book is still the highest delight. He who has once known its satisfactions is provided with a resource against calamity. Angels they are to us of entertain- ment, sympathy, and provocation. With them many of us spend the most of our life,—these silent guides, these tractable prophets, historians, and singers, whose embalmed life is the highest feat of art; who now cast their moonlight illumination over solitude, weariness, and fallen fortunes. . . . Consider what you have in the smallest chosen library. Acompany of the wisest and wittiest men picked out of all civil countries, in a thousand years, have set in best order the results of their learning and wisdom. . : IT hold that we have never reached the best use of books until our own thought rises to such a pitch that we cannot afford to read much. I own this loftiness is rare, and we must long be. thankful to our silent friends before the day comes when we can honestly dismiss them. RUSKIN. Will you go and gossip with your housemaid, or your stable boy, when you may talk with kings and queens, while this eternal court is open to you, with its society wide as the world, multitudinous as its days, the chosen, and the mighty, of every place and time? Into that you may enter always; in that youmay take fellowshipand rank according to your wish; from that, once entered intoit, youcannever be outcast but by yourown fault ; by your aristocracy of companion- ship there, your own inherent aristocracy will be assuredly tested, and the motives with which youstrive to take high placein the society of the living, measured, as to all the truth and sincerity that are in them, by the place youdesire to take in this company of the Dead. Lnfinite Riches tx a little room. Indocti discant et ament meminisse periti. (EDS OFS) FIRES ITO (Zz THE Pook-Lover’s LEnchiridion. SOLOMON. B.C. 1033—975. He that walketh with wise men shall be wise.— Proverbs xiii, 20. A word spoken in due season, how good is it !— Proverbs xv. 23. Apply thine heart unto instruction, and thine ears to- the words of knowledge.—FProverds xxiii. 12. SOCRATES. B.C. 468—399. Employ your time in improving yourself by other men’s writings; so you shall come easily by what others have laboured hard-for. Prefer knowledge to. wealth, for the one is transitory, the other perpetual. PLATO. B.C. 427—347. Books are the immortal sons deifying their sires. B b CICERO. INSCRIPTION ON THE LIBRARY AT ALEX- ANDRIA. FOUNDED ABOUT 300 B.C. THE NOURISHMENT OF THE SOUL; or, according to Diodorus, THE MEDICINE OF THE MIND.— I, D’Israeli’s Curiosities of Literature. CICERO. B.C. 106—4I. Nam ceterze neque temporum sunt, neque zetatum omnium, neque locorum; at heec studia adolescentiam alunt, senectutem oblectant, secundas res ornant, adversis perfugium ac solatium prebent; delectant domi, non impediunt foris; pernoctant nobiscum, peregrinantur, rusticantur.—Pro Archid Poetd, cap. 7. Trans, For other occupations are not for all times, or all ages, or all places. But these studies are the ali- ment of youth, the comfort of old age; an adornment of prosperity, a refuge and a solace in adversity; a delight in our home, and no incumbrance abroad ; companions in our long nights, in our travels, in our country retirement. [7Z7azslated by R. R. D.] Remember not to give up your books to anybody ; but keep them, as you say, for me. I entertain the strongest affection for them, as I do now disgust for everything else. Keep your books and do not despair of my being able to make them mine; which, if I accomplish, I shall exceed Croesus in riches, and look down with contempt upon the houses and lands of all the world, — Epistles to Atticus, vii. ix. [Heberden’s Translation. ] HORACE—SENECA. 3 I have at all times free access to my books; they are never occupied.—De Lef., i. HORACE. B.C. 65—S. Lectio, quze placuit, decies repetita placebit.—De Arte Poet., line 365. Trans. The reading which has pleased, will please when repeated ten times. O rus, quando ego te aspiciam ? quandoque licebit, Nunc veterum libris, nunc somno et inertibus horis, icitze jucunda oblivia vitze ? Ducere solicitz jucu ee Shin Trans. O country, when shall I behold thee? When shall I be permitted to enjoy a sweet oblivion of the anxieties of life, sometimes occupied with the writings of the men of old, sometimes in slumbrous ease, or tranquil abstraction? [Zvanslated by R. R. D.] SENECA. B.C. 58—A.D. 32. The reading of many authors, and of all kinds of works, has in it something vague and unstable.— we DET 2 The multitude of books distracts. —Zd. 2. It does not matter how many, but how good, books you have.—/d, 15. Definite reading is profitable; miscellaneous reading is pleasant,—/d. 45. Leisure without study is death, and the grave of a living man.—Zd, 82. If you devote your time to study, you will avoid all the irksomeness of this life; nor will you long for the 4 SENECA, approach of night, being tired of the day; nor will you be a burden to yourself, nor your society insup- portable to others. —/d. 82. Reading nourishes the mind, and, when it is wearied with study, refreshes it, but not without study.— Id, 84. We ought to imitate the bees, and to separate all the materials which we have gathered from multifarious reading, for they keep best separate; and then, by applying the study and ability of our own minds, to concoct all those various contributions into one flavour. —Id, 84. He that is well employed in his study, though he may seem to do nothing, yet does the greatest things of all others. —/d. 84. What is the use of countless books and libraries whose owner hardly reads through their titles in. his whole life ?>—De Trang. An. 9. The crowd of teachers is burdensome and not in- structive ; and it is much better to trust yourself to a few good authors than to wander through several.— Id, 9. Procure a sufficient number of books, but not for show.—d. 9. As long as the aliments of which we have partaken retain their own nature and float as solids in our stomach, they are burdensome; but when they have changed from their former state, then, and not till then, they enter into our strength and blood. Let us do the same with the foods which nourish our minds, so that we do not suffer the things we have taken in PLUTARCH—ST. MATTHEW—QUINTILIAN. 35 to remain whole and foreign. Let us digest them! otherwise they enter our memory, but not our mind,— Id. 84. [Translated by J. N.] PLUTARCH. A.D. 46—120. We ought to regard books as we do sweetmeats, not wholly to aim at the pleasantest,, but chiefly to respect the wholesomest ; not forbidding either, but approving the latter most. AuLuUS GELLIUS. ci”. I17—180 A.D. The things which are well said do not improve the disposition of the young so much as those which are wickedly said corrupt them.—lVoct. Adz. 12, 2. GOSPEL OF ST. MATTHEW. A good man out of the good treasure of the heart bringeth forth good things. By thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned.—S¢, Matthew xii. 35 and 37. QUINTILIAN. A.D. 42—II5. Reading is free, and does not exhaust itself with the act, but may be repeated, in case you are in doubt, or wish to impress it deeply on the memory. Let us repeat it; and—just as we swallow our food masti- cated and nearly fluid, in order that it may be more easily digested—so our reading should not be delivered to the memory in its crude state, but sweetened and worked up by frequent repetition. —/zst, Ovat, 10, I. 8 RICHARD DE BURY, in the voice, and in writing ; it appears to abide most usefully and fructify most productively of advantage in Books. For the Truth of the voice perishes with the sound. Truth latent in the mind, is hidden wisdom and invisible treasure; but the Truth which illuminates Books desires to manifest itself to every disciplinable sense, to the sight when read, to the hearing when heard: it, moreover, in a manner commends itself to the touch, when submitting to be transcribed, collated, corrected and preserved. Truth confined to the mind, though it may be the possession of a noble soul, while it wants a companion and is not judged of, either by the sight, or the hearing, appears to be inconsistent with pleasure. But the Truth of the voice is open to the hearing only, and latent to the sight (which shows us many differences of things fixed upon by a most subtle motion, beginning and ending as it were simul- taneously). But the Truth written in a Book, being not fluctuating, but permanent, shows itself openly to the sight, passing through the spiritual ways of the eyes, as the porches and halls of common sense and imagi- nation; it enters the chamber of intellect, reposes itself upon the couch of memory, and there congene- rates the eternal Truth of the mind. Lastly, let us consider how great a commodity of doctrine exists in Books, how easily, how secretly, how safely they expose the nakedness of human igno- rance without putting it to shame. These are the masters who instruct us without rods and ferules, without hard words and anger, without clothes or money. If you approach them, they are not asleep ; if investigating you interrogate them, they conceal RICHARD DE BURY—PETRARCH. 9 nothing ; if you mistake them, they never grumble ; if you are ignorant, they cannot laugh at you. You only, O Books, are liberal and independent. You give to all who ask, and enfranchise all who serve you assiduously. . . . Truly you are the ears filled with most palatable grains. . . . You are golden urns in which manna is laid up, rocks flowing with honey, or rather indeed honeycombs ; udders most copiously yielding the milk of life, store- rooms ever full; the four-streamed river of Paradise, where the human mind is fed, and the arid intellect moistened and watered; . . ._ fruitful olives, vines of Engaddi, fig-trees knowing no sterility; burning lamps to be ever held in the hand. The library, therefore, of wisdom is more precious than all riches, and nothing that can be wished for is worthy to be compared with it, Whosoever, therefore, acknowledges himself to be a zealous follower of truth, of happiness, of wisdom, of science, or even of the faith, must of necessity make himself a Lover of Books. ~ —FPhilobiblon, a Treatise on the Love of Books: written in Latin in 1344, and translated from the first edition, 1473, dy J. B. Inglis. (London, 1832.) FRANCESCO PETRARCA. 1304—1374. Books never pallon me. . . . They discourse with us, they take counsel with us, and are united to us by a certain living chatty familiarity. And not only does each book inspire the sense that it belongs to its readers, but it also suggests the name of others, and one begets the desire of the other.—ZZzstole de Rebus Familiaribus (Jos. Francasetti’s Edition ). 8 RICHARD DE BURY, in the voice, and in writing ; it appears to abide most usefully and fructify most productively of advantage in Books. For the Truth of the voice perishes with the sound. Truth latent in the mind, is hidden wisdom and invisible treasure; but the Truth which illuminates Books desires to manifest itself to every disciplinable sense, to the sight when read, to the hearing when heard: it, moreover, in a manner commends itself to the touch, when submitting to be transcribed, collated, corrected and preserved. Truth confined to the mind, though it may be the possession of a noble soul, while it wants a companion and is not judged of, either by the sight, or the hearing, appears to be inconsistent with pleasure. But the Truth of the voice is open to the hearing only, and latent to the sight (which shows us many differences of things fixed upon by a most subtle motion, beginning and ending as it were simul- taneously). But the Truth written in a Book, being not fluctuating, but permanent, shows itself openly to the sight, passing through the spiritual ways of the eyes, as the porches and halls of common sense and imagi- nation; it enters the chamber of intellect, reposes itself upon the couch of memory, and there congene- rates the eternal Truth of the mind. Lastly, let us consider how great a commodity of doctrine exists in Books, how easily, how secretly, how safely they expose the nakedness of human igno- rance without putting it to shame. These are the masters who instruct us without rods and ferules, without hard words and anger, without clothes or money. If you approach them, they are not asleep ; if investigating you interrogate them, they conceal RICHARD DE BURY—PETRARCH. 9 nothing ; if you mistake them, they never grumble; if you are ignorant, they cannot laugh at you. You only, O Books, are liberal and independent. You give to all who ask, and enfranchise all who serve you assiduously. . . . Truly you are the ears filled with most palatable grains. . . . You are golden urns in which manna is laid up, rocks flowing with honey, or rather indeed honeycombs ; udders most copiously yielding the milk of life, store- rooms ever full; the four-streamed river of Paradise, where the human mind is fed, and the arid intellect moistened and watered; . . ._ fruitful olives, vines of Engaddi, fig-trees knowing no sterility; burning lamps to be ever held in the hand. The library, therefore, of wisdom is more precious than all riches, and nothing that can be wished for is worthy to be compared with it, Whosoever, therefore, acknowledges himself to be a zealous follower of truth, of happiness, of wisdom, of science, or even of the faith, must of necessity make himself a Lover of Books. * —Philobiblon, a Treatise on the Love of Books: written in Latin in 1344, and translated from the first edition, 1473, by J. B. Inglis. (London, 1832.) FRANCESCO PETRARCA. 1304—1374. Books never pallon me. . . . They discourse with us, they take counsel with us, and are united to us by a certain living chatty familiarity. And not only does each book inspire the sense that it belongs to its readers, but it also suggests the name of others, and one begets the desire of the other.—Z/zstole de Rebus Familiaribus (Jos. Francasette’s Edition). 10 PETRARCH. Fpistle viii, Book xvii., is devoted to shewing ‘‘how contemptible is the lust of wealth when compared with the noble thirst for learning.” Joy [oguztur]: I consider Books aids to learning. REASON: But take care lest they are rather hin- drances ; some have been prevented from conquering by the numbers of their soldiers, so many have found the multitude of their books a hindrance to learning, and abundance has bred want, as sometimes happens, But if the many Books are at hand, they are not to be cast aside, but to be gleaned, and the best used; and care should be taken that those which might have proved seasonable auxiliaries, do not become hindrances out of season.—De Remediis utriusque Fortune, Edition of 1613, 2. 174. [Translated by J. N.] The friends of Petrarch apologized to him for the length of time between their visits : ‘* Tt is impossible for us to follow your example: the life you lead is contrary to human nature. In winter, you sit like an owl, in the chimney corner. In summer, you are running incessantly about the fields.” Petrarch smiled at these observations : ‘* These people,” said he, ‘‘consider the pleasures of the world as the supreme good, and cannot bear the idea of renouncing them. I have FRIENDs, whose society is extremely agreeable to me: they are of all ages, and of every country. They have dis- tinguished themselves both in the cabinet and in the field, and obtained high honours for their knowledge of the sciences. It is easy to gain access to them; PETRARCH—MANCINI, II for they are always at my service, and I admit them to my company, and dismiss them from it, whenever I please. They are never troublesome, but immediately answer every question I ask them. Some relate to me the events of past ages, while others reveal to me the secrets of nature. Some teach me how to live, and others how to die. Some, by their vivacity, drive away my cares and exhilarate my spirits, while others give fortitude to my mind, and teach me the important lesson how to restrain my desires, and to depend wholly on myself. They open to me, in short, the various avenues of all the arts and sciences, and upon their information I safely rely, in all emergencies. In return for all these services, they only ask me to ac- commodate them with a convenient chamber in some corner of my humble habitation, where they may repose in peace: for these friends are more delighted by the tranquillity of retirement, than with the tumults of society.”,—from the Introduction to Allibone’s Critical Dictionary of English Literature. DominicoO MANCINI (A CONTEMPORARY OF PETRARCH). In vain that husbandman his seed doth sow, If he his crop not in due season mow. A general sets his army in array In vain, unless he fight, and win the day. ’Tis virtuous action that must praise bring forth, Without which slow advice is little worth. Yet they who give good counsel, praise deserve, Though in the active part they cannot serve : 12 MANCINI—CHAUCER. In action, learnéd counsellors their age, Profession, or disease, forbids t’ engage. Nor to philosophers is praise deny’d, Whose wise instructions after-ages guide ; Yet vainly most their age in study spend ; No end of writing books, and to no end: Beating their brains for strange and hidden things, Whose knowledge, nor delight nor profit brings : Themselves with doubt both day and night perplex, Nor gentle reader please, or teach, but vex. Books should to one of these four ends conduce, For eee: piety, ie ye or use. Then seek to ie qa fines carey dae us blest, And having found them, lock them in thy breast. In vain on study time away we throw, When we forbear to act the things we know. God, who to thee reason and knowledge lent, Will ask how these two talents have been spent. Libellus de quattuor Virtutibus, Paris, 1484. Translated by Sir John Denham. Chal- mers English Poets, vol. vii. p. 255. GEOFFREY CHAUCER. 1328—1400. A Clerke ther was of Oxenford also, That unto meen hadde bs - 8° For ee was ence have at his ‘sedis head Twenty bookes, clothed in blak and reed, Of Aristotil, and of his philosophie. ~ CHAUCER—THOMAS A KEMPIS. 13 But al though he were a philosophre, ~Yet hadde he but litul gold in cofre ; But al that he might of his frendes hente, On bookes and his lernyng he it spente. Prologue to the Canterbury Tales. And as for me, though that I konne but lyte, On bokes for to rede I me delyte, And to hem yeve I feyth and ful credence, And in myn herte have hem in reverence So hertely, that ther is game noon, That fro my bokes maketh me to goon, But yt be seldome on the holy day, Save, certeynly, whan that the monethe of May Is comen, and that I here the foules synge, And that the floures gynnen for to sprynge, Farwel my boke, and my devocion ! Prologue to the Legende of Goode Women. For out of old fieldes, as men saithe, Cometh all this new corne fro yere to yere, And out of old bookes, in good faithe, Cometh al this new science that men lere. The Assembly of Foules. Tuomas A Kemps. 1380—1471. If thou wilt receive profit, read with humility, sim- plicity, and faith; and seek not at any time the fame of being learned.— Book I. chap. v. Verily, when the day of judgment comes, we shall not be examined what we have read, but what we have 14 RINGELBERGIUS. done; nor how learnedly we have spoken, but how religiously we have lived,— Book I. chap. vi. JoacHimMus Fortius RINGELBERGIUS. ad. 1536. Let no one be dejected, if he is not conscious of any great advantage in study at first. For as we know, that the hour-hand of a timepiece moves progressively onward, notwithstanding we cannot discern its mo- mentary motion; and as we see trees and herbs increase and grow to maturity, although we are not able to perceive their hourly progress ; so do we know that learning and study, although their transitions be imperceptible at the moment of observation, are sure in their advancement. Themerchant thinks himself happy if after a ten years voyage, after a thousand dangers, he at length improves his fortune ; and shall we, like poor- spirited creatures, give up all hopes after the first onset? No! let us rather adopt this as our maxim, that whatever the mind has commanded itself to do, it is sure of obtaining its purpose. To those who are accustomed to spend more time in slumber than the nature of their studies, and these our admonitions will admit of; an alarum clock, which might be set to any hour they chose, would be found highly serviceable. I myself, when I have been upon a journey, or sojourning in any place where a machine of this kind could not be obtained, have actually slept upon two flat pieces of wood, laid transversely upon RINGELBERGIUS. 15 my bed, lest I should slumber too long. Nor have I felt any inconvenience from this, for I have uniformly found by experience, that when weary, I have slept soundly, notwithstanding the hardness of my couch, and when sufficiently refreshed, the hardness of my couch has compelled me to quit it. But this to most men would be a harsh experiment, and one which per- haps few, however attached they may be to literary pursuits, would care to try, I therefore recommend the alarum in preference ; or what is infinitely better than either, a firm resolution not to continue to slumber after a certain hour of the morning. Let us detach ourselves from things trifling and insignificant, and give ourselves up to the study of things worthy our nature and capacity. We all value our possessions, much more ought we to estimate our time. Yet such is the irrationality of our conduct, that if we should happen by some mischance to lose a portion of our property, which by industry may be easily recovered, we fill the air with our. lamentations ; but we not only bear the loss of time, which can never be recovered, with equanimity, but with manifest indications of joy and satisfaction. He who aspires to the character of a man of learning, has taken upon himself the performance of nocommon task. The ocean of literature is without limit. How then will he be able to perform a voyage, even to a moderate distance, if he waste his time in dalliance on the shore? Our only hope is in exertion. 16 ELRASMUS. Let our only reward be that of industry. Unless we are vigilant to gather the fruit of time, whilst the autumn of life is yet with us ; we shall, at the close of its winter, descend into the grave as the beasts which perish, without having left a record behind us to in- form posterity that we ever existed.—‘‘ De Ratione Studi ;” translated by G. B. Earp, from the Edition of Erpenius [1619], who gave it the title of ‘Liber vere Aureus,” or “ The truly Golden Treatise.” DESIDERIUS ERASMUS. 1467—1536. At the first it is no great Matter how much you Learn; but how well you learn it. And now takea Direction how you may not only learn well, but easily too; for the right Method of Art qualifies the Artist to perform his Work not only well and expeditiously, but easily too. Divide the Day into Tasks, as we read Pliny the Second, and Pope Pius the Great did, Men worthy to be remember’d by all Men. In the first Part of it, which is the chief Thing of all, hear the Master interpret, not only attentively, but with a Sort of Greediness, not being content to follow him in his Dissertations with a slow Pace, but striving to out-strip him a little. Fix all his Sayings in your Memory, and commit the most material of them to Writing, the faithful Keeper of Words. And be sure to take Care not to rely upon them, as that ridiculous rich Man that Seneca speaks of did, who had form’d a Notion, that whatsoever of Literature any of his Servants had, was his own. By no Means have your Study furnish’d with learned Books, and be unlearned yourself. Don’t ERASMUS. 17 suffer what you hear to slip out of your Memory, but recite it either with yourself, or toother Persons, Nor let this suffice you, but set apart some certain Time for Medita- tion ; which one Thing as St. Aurelius writes does most notably conduce to assist both Wit and Memory. An Engagement and combating of Wits does in an extraor- dinary Manner both shew the Strength of Genius’s, rouzes them, and augments them. Ifyou are in Doubt of any Thing, don’t be asham’d to ask ; or if youhave committed an Error, to be corrected. Avoid late and unseasonable Studies, for they murder Wit, and are very prejudicial to Health. The Muses love the Morning, and that isa fit Time for Study, After you have din’d, either divert yourself at some Exercise, or take a Walk, and discourse merrily, and Study between whiles. As for Diet, eat only as much as shall be sufficient to preserve Health, and not as much or more than the Appetite may crave, Before Supper, take a little Walk, and do the same after Supper. A little before you go to sleep read some- thing that is exquisite, and worth remembring ; and contemplate upon it till you fall asleep ; and when you awake in the Morning, call yourself to an Account for - it. Always keep this Sentence of P/zzzy’s in your Mind, All that time zs lost that you don’t bestow on Study, Think upon this, that there is nothing more fleeting than Youth, which, when once it is past, can never be recall’d. But now I begin to be an Exhorter, when I promis’d to be a Director. My sweet Christzan, follow this Method, or a better, if you can; and so farewell.—‘‘ Colloguies: Of the Method of Study ; To Christianus of Lubeck.” [From the Latin text of P. Scriver’s E-dition, printed by the Elzevirs, 1643.] Cc 18 MACHIAVELLI—LUTHER, NiccoLo MACHIAVELLI. 1469—1527. When evening has arrived, I return home, and go into my study. . . . I pass into the antique courts of ancient men, where, welcomed lovingly by them, I feed upon the food which is my own, and for which I was born. Here, I can speak with them without show, and can ask of them the motives of their actions; and they respond to me by virtue of their humanity. For hours together, the miseries of life no longer annoy me ; I forget every vexation ; I do not fear poverty ; and death itself does not dismay me, for I have altogether transferred myself to those with whom I hold converse.—Ofere dit Machiavelli, Editione Italia, 1813, vol. vill. [Zranslated by E. A.) MarRTIN LUTHER. 1483—1546. Every great book is an action, and every great action is a book. All who would study with advantage in any art what- soever, ought to betake themselves to the reading of some sure and certain books oftentimes over; for to read many books produceth confusion, rather than learning, like as those who dwell everywhere are not anywhere at home.— Zadle Talk, RoGER ASCHAM. 1515—1568. Before I went into Germany, I came to Broadgate in Leicestershire, to take my leave of that noble lady Jane Grey, to whom I was exceeding much beholding. ROGER ASCHAM. 19 _ Her parents, the duke and duchess, with all the house- hold, gentlemen and gentlewomen, were hunting in the park. I found her in her chamber, reading Phedo Platonts in Greek, and that with as much delight as some gentlemen would read a merry tale in Boccace. After salutation, and duty done, with some other talk, T asked her, why she would leese such pastime in the park? Smiling, she answered me; ‘‘I wist, all their sport in the park is but a shadow to that pleasure that I findin Plato. Alas! good folk, they never felt what true pleasure meant.” ‘‘And howcameyou, madam,” quoth I, ‘‘to this deep knowledge of pleasure? and what did chiefly allure you into it, seeing not many women, but very few men, haveeattained thereunto?” ‘‘I will tell you,” quoth she, ‘‘and tell you a truth, which perchance ye will marvel at. One of the greatest benefits that ever God gave me, is, that he sent me so sharp and severe parents, and so gentle a schoolmaster. For when I am in presence either of father or mother ; whether I speak, keep silence, sit, stand, or go, eat, drink, be merry, or sad, be sewing, playing, dancing, or doing anything else; I must do it, as it were, in such weight, measure, and number, even so perfectly, as God made the world; or else I am so sharply taunted, so cruelly threatened, yea presently sometimes with pinches, nips, and bobs, and other ways (which I will not name for the honour I bear them) so without measure misordered, that I think myself in hell, till time come that I must go to Mr. Elmer; who teacheth me so gently, so pleasantly, with such fair allurements to learning, that I think all the time nothing whiles I am with him, And when I am called 20 ROGER ASCHAM. from him, I fall on weeping, because whatsoever I do else but learning, is full of grief, trouble, fear, and whole misliking unto me. And thus my book hath been so much my pleasure, and bringeth daily to me more pleasure and more, that in respect of it, all other pleasures, in very deed, be but trifles and troubles unto me.” 4 I remember this talk gladly, both because it is so worthy of memory, and because also it was the last talk that ever I had, and the last time that ever I saw that noble and worthy lady. And I do not mean by all this my talk, that young gentlemen should always be poring on a book, and by using good studies should leese honest pleasure, and haunt no good pastime: I mean nothing less. For it is well known that I both like and love, and have always, and do yet still use all exercises and pastimes that be fit for my nature and ability: and beside natural disposition, in judgment also I was never either stoic in doctrine or anabaptist in religion, to mislike a merry, pleasant, and playful nature, if no outrage be committed against law, measure, and good order. Therefore I would wish, that beside some good time fitly appointed, and constantly kept, to increase by reading the knowledge of the tongues and learning; young gentlemen should use, and delight in all courtly exercises, and gentlemanlike pastimes. And good cause why: for the self same noble city of Athens, justly commended of me before, did wisely, and upon great consideration, appoint the Muses, Apollo and Pallas, to ROGER ASCHAM. 23 be patrons of learning to their youth. For the Muses, besides learning, were also ladies of dancing, mirth, and minstrelsy: Apollo was god of shooting, and author of cunning playing upon instruments ; Pallas also was lady mistress in wars. Whereby was nothing else meant, but that learning should be always mingled with honest mirth and comely exercises ; and that war also should be governed by learning and moderated by wisdom. Indeed books of common places be very necessary to induce a man into an orderly general knowledge, how to refer orderly all that he readeth, ad certa rerum capita, and not wander in study. But to dwell in Lpitomes, and books of common places, and not to bind himself daily by orderly study, to read with all diligence principally the holiest Scripture, and withal the best doctors, and so to learn to make true difference betwixt the authority of the one and the counsel of the other, maketh so many seeming and sun-burnt ministers as we have; whose learning is gotten in a summer heat, and washed away with a Christmas snow again. And this exercise is not more needfully done in a great work, than wisely done in your common daily writing either of letter or other thing else ; that is to say, to peruse diligently, and see and spy wisely, what is always more than needeth. For twenty to one offend more in writing too much than too little: even as twenty to one fall into sickness, rather by overmuch fulness, than by any lack or emptiness. And there- fore is he always the best English physician, that best 22 ROGER ASCHAM. can give a purgation: that is by way of Zpzzome to cut all over-much away. And surely men’s bodies be not more full of ill humours, than commonly men’s minds (if they be young, lusty, proud, like and love them- selves well, as most men do) be full of fancies, opinions, errors, and faults, not only in inward invention, but also in all their utterance, either by pen or talk. And of all other men, even those that have the inventivest heads for all purposes, and roundest tongues in all matters and places (except they learn and use this good lesson of Zpztome), commit com- monly greater faults than dull, staying, silent men do. For quick inventors, and fair ready speakers, being boldened with their present ability to say more, and perchance better too, at the sudden for that present, than any other can do, use less help of diligence and study, than they ought to do; and so have in them commonly less learning, and weaker judgment for all deep considerations, than some duller heads and slower tongues have. In every separate kind of learning, and study by itself, ye must follow choicely a few, and chiefly some one, and that namely in our school of eloquence, either for pen or talk. And as in por- traiture and painting, wise men choose not that workman that can only make a fair hand, or a well- fashioned leg; but such a one as can furnish up fully all the features of the whole body of a man, woman, and child ; and withal is able too, by good skill, to give to every one of these three, in their proper kind, the right form, the true figure, the natural colour, that is fit and due to the dignity of a man, to the ROGER ASCHAM. 23 beauty of a woman, to the sweetness of a young babe : even likewise do we seek such one in our school to follow ; who is able always in all matters to teach plainly, to delight pleasantly, and to carry away by force of wise talk, all that shall hear or read him. But for ignorance men cannot like, and for idleness men will not labour, to come to any perfectness at all. For as the worthy poets in Athens and Rome were more careful to satisfy the judgment of one learned, than rash in pleasing the humour of a rude multitude; even so, if men in England now had the like reverend regard to learning, skill, and judgment, and durst not presume to write, except they came with the like learning, and also did use like diligence in searching out, not only just measure in every metre (as every ignorant person may easily do), but also true quantity in every foot and syllable (as only the learned shall be able to do, and as the Greeks and Romans were wont to do), surely then rash ignorant heads, which now can easily reckon up fourteen syllables, and easily stumble on every rhyme, either durst not, for lack of such learning, or else would not, in avoiding such labour, be so busy, as every where they be; and shops in London should not be so full of lewd and rude rhymes, as commonly they are. But now the ripest of tongue be readiest to write. And many daily in setting out books and ballads, make great show of blossoms and buds; in whom is neither root of learning nor fruit of wisdom at all.—7Zhe Schole- master, Book i., Ascham’s Works, by Dr. Giles, 1864. Vol, iii. 24 MICHEL DE MONTAIGNE, MICHEL DE MONTAIGNE. 1537—1592. ‘The Commerce of Books is much more certain, and much more our own. It yields all other Advantages to the other two; but has the Constancy and Facility of it’s Service for it’s own Share: it goes side by side with me in my whole Course, and everywhere is assisting tome. It comforts me in my Age and Soli- tude ; it eases me of a troublesome Weight of Idleness, and delivers me at all Hours from Company that I dislike ; and it blunts the Point of Griefs, if they are not extreme, and have not got an entire Possession of my Soul. To divert myself from a troublesome Fancy, ’tis but to run to my Books ; they presently fix me to them, and drive the other out of my Thoughts ; and do not mutiny to see that I have only recourse to them for want of other more real, natural and lively Conveniences ; they always receive me with the same Kindness. , . . The sick Man is not to be la- mented, who has his Cure in his Sleeve. In the Experience and Practice of this Sentence, which is a very true one, all the Benefit I reap from Books consists ; and yet I make as little use of it almost as those who know it not ; I enjoy it as a Miser does his Money, in knowing that I may enjoy it when I please; my Mind is satisfied with this Right of Possession. I never travel without Books, either in Peace or War; and yet sometimes I pass over several Days, and sometimes Months, without looking into them; I will read by and by, say I to myself, or to Morrow, or when I please, and Time steals away without any Inconvenience. For it is not to be imagin’d to what ~ MICHEL DE MONTAIGNE. 25 Degree I please my self, and rest content in this Consideration, that I have them by me, to divert my self with them when I am so dispos’d, and to call to mind what an Ease and Assistance they are to my Life. Tis the best Viaticum I have yet found out for this - human Journey, and I very much lament those Men of Understanding who are unprovided of it. And yet I rather accept of any sort of diversion, how light soever, because this can never fail me. When at Home, I a little more frequent my Library, from whence I at once survey all the whole Concerns of my Family: As I enter it, I from thence see under my Garden, Court, and Base- court, and into all the parts of the Building. There I turn over now one Book, and then another, of various Subjects without Method or Design: One while I meditate, another I record, and dictate as I walk to and fro, such Whimsies as these with which I here present you. ’Tis in the third Story of a Tower, of which the Ground-Room is my Chapel, the second Story an Apartment with a withdrawing Room and Closet, where I often lie to be more retired. Above it is a great Wardrobe, which formerly was the most useless part of the House. In that Library I pass away most of the Days of my Life, and most of the Hours of the Day. In the Night I am never there. There is within it a Cabinet handsom and neat enough, with a very convenient Fire-place for the Winter, and Windows that afford a great deal of light, and very pleasant Prospects. And were I not more afraid of the Trouble than the Expence, the Trouble that frights me from all Business, I could very easily adjoin on either Side, and on the same Floor, a Gallery of an hundred Paces long, 26 MICHEL DE MONTAIGNE. and twelve broad, having found Walls already rais’d for some other design, to the requisite height. Every Place of Retirement requires a Walk. My Thoughts sleep if I sit still; my Fancy does not go by it self, my legs must move it ; and all those who study without a Book are in the same Condition. The Figure of my Study is round, and has no more flat Wall than what is taken up by my Table and Chairs; so that the remaining parts of the Circle present me a View of all my Books at once, set upon five Degrees of Shelves round about me. It has three noble and free Prospects, and is sixteen Paces Diameter. I am not so continually there in Winter ; for my House is built upon an Emi- nence, as it’s Name imports, and no part of it is so much expos’d to the Wind and Weather as that, which pleases me the better, for being of a painful Access, and a little remote, as well upon the account of Exercise, as being also there more retir’d from the Crowd. ’Tis there that Iam in my Kingdom, as we say, and there I endeavour to make my self an absolute Monarch, and to sequester this one Corner from all Society, whether Conjugal, Filial, or Civil. Elsewhere I have but verbal Authority only, and of a confus’d Essence. That Man, in my Opinion, is very miserable, who has not at home, where to be by himself, where to entertain himself alone, or to conceal himself from others. . . . I think it much more supportable to be always alone than never to be so. If any one shall tell me, that it is to under-value the Muses, to make use of them only for Sport, and to pass away the Time ; I shall tell him, that he does not know the value of Sport and Pastime so well as I do; I can hardly forbear to add further, MONTAIGNE—FOHN FLORIO, — 27 that all other end is ridiculous. I live from Hand to Mouth, and, with Reverence be it spoken, I only live for my self; to that all my Designs do tend, and in that terminate. I studied when young for Ostentation ; since to make my self a little wiser; and now for my Diversion, but never for any Profit. A vain and prodigal Humour I had after this sort of Furniture, not only for supplying my own needs and defects, but moreover for Ornament and outward show; I have since quite abandon’d it. Books have many charming Qualities to such as know how to choose them. © But every Good has it’s Ill; ’tis a Pleasure that is not pure and clean, no more than others: It has it’s Inconve- niences, and great ones too. The Mind indeed is exercised by it, but the Body, the care of which I must withal never neglect, remains in the mean time without Action, grows heavy and melancholy. I know no Excess more prejudicial to me, nor more to be avoided in this my declining Age.—Of Three Commerces. ( Charles Cotton’s Translation, 1685.) JOHN FLORIO. 1545—1625. Concerning the Honour of Books. Since honour from the honourer proceeds, How well do they deserve, that memorize And leave in books for all posterities The names of worthies and their virtuous deeds ; When all their glory else, like water-weeds Without their element, preséntly dies, And all their greatness quite forgotten lies, And when and how they flourished no man heeds ! 28 FJOHN FLORIO—SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, How poor remembrances are statues, tombs And other monuments that men erect To princes, which remain in closéd rooms, Where but a few behold them, in respect Of Books, that to the universal eye Show how they lived ; the other where they lie ! Prefixed to the second edition of Fohn Florio’s Translation of Montaigne’s Essays, 1613.— [Vide Notes to D. M. Main’s Treasury of English Sonnets, p. 248, tn reference to this Sonnet. | Book OF COMMON PRAYER. 1549. Read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest.—Codlect Sor Second Sunday in Advent. Joun Ly tye [or Litty]. 1553—1601. . . far more seemely were it for thee to have thy Studie full of Bookes, than thy Purses full of Mony.—Zuphues ; the Anatomy of Wit. SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 1554—1586. It is manifest that all government of action is to be gotten by knowledge, and knowledge, best, by gather- ing many knowledges, which is reading. LorD Bacon. 1561-—1629. Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability. Their chief use for delight is in privateness and retiring ; for ornament is in discourse; and for LORD BACON. 29 ability is in the judgment and disposition of business. . » + Read not to contradict and confute, nor to believe and take for granted, nor to find talk and dis- course, but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested ; that is, some books are to be read only in parts ; others to be read, but not curiously ; and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention. . . . Reading maketh a full man; conference a ready man; and writing an exact man; and, therefore, if a man write little, he had need have a great memory : if he confer little, he had need have a present wit: and if he read little, he had need have much cunning to seem to know that he doth not. The images of men’s wits and knowledge remain in books, exempted from the worry of time and capable of perpetual renovation. Neither are they fitly to be called images, because they generate still, and cast their seeds in the minds of others, provoking and causing infinite actions and opinions in succeeding ages. We enter into a desire of knowledge sometimes from a natural curiosity and inquisitive appetite; sometimes to entertain our minds with variety and delight ; sometimes for ornament and reputation ; sometimes to enable us to victory of wit and contradiction, and most times for lucre and profession ; and seldom sincerely to give a true account of our gift of reason, for the benefit and use of man :—as if there were sought in knowledge a couch whereupon to rest a searching and restless spirit; or a terrace for a wandering and 30 LORD BACON. variable mind to walk up and down, with a fair pros- pect; or a tower of state for a proud mind to raise itself upon ; or a fort or commanding ground for strife and contention ; or a shop for profit or sale ; and not a rich storehouse for the glory of the Creator and the relief of man’s estate. As the eye rejoices to receive the light, the ear to hear sweet music; so the mind, which is the man, rejoices to discover the secret works, the varieties and beauties of nature. The inquiry of truth, which is the love-making or wooing it; the knowledge of truth, which is the presence of it ; and the belief of truth, which is the enjoying it, js the sovereign good of our nature. The unlearned man knows not what it is to descend into himself or to call himself to account, or the pleasure of that ‘‘suavissima vita indies sentire se fieri meliorem,”” The mind of man doth wonderfully endeavour and extremely covet that it may not be pensile ; but that it may light upon something fixed and immoveable, on which, as on a firmament, it may support itself in its swift motions and disquisitions. Aristotle endeavours to prove that in all motions ‘of bodies there is some point quiescent; and very elegantly expounds the fable of Atlas, who stood fixed and bore up the heavens from falling, to be meant of the poles of the world whereupon the conversion is accomplished. In like manner, men do earnestly seek to have some Atlas or axis of their cogitations within themselves, which may, in some measure, moderate the fluctuations and wheelings of the under- standing, fearing it may be the falling of their heaven. LORD BACON—SAMUEL DANIEL. 3 31 In studies whatsoever a man commandeth upon himself let him set hours for it; but whatsoever is agreeable to his nature, let him take no care for any set hours, for his thoughts will fly to it of themselves. Such letters as are written from wise men are of all the words of men, in my judgment, the best ; for they ~ are more natural than orations, public speeches, and more advanced than conference or present speeches, SAMUEL DANIEL. 1562—1619. O blessed Letters! that combine in one All Ages past, and make one live with all. By you we do confer with who are gone, And the Dead-living unto Council call ; By you th’ unborn shall have Communion Of what we feel and what doth us befal. Soul of the World, Knowledge without thee ; What hath the Earth that truly glorious is ? What Good is like to this, To do worthy the writing, and to write Worthy the Reading, and the World’s Delight ? Musophilus ; containing a General Defence of Learning. And tho’ books, madam, cannot make this Mind, Which we must bring apt to be set aright ; Yet do they rectify it in that Kind, And touch it so, as that it turns that Way Where Judgment lies. And tho’ we cannot find The certain Place of Truth ; yet do they stay, And entertain us near about the same: 32 SHAKESPEARE. And give the Soul the best Delight that may Enchear it most, and most our Sp’rits enflame To Thoughts of Glory, and to worthy Ends. To the Lady Lucy, Countess of Bedford. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1564—1616. Me, poor man, my library Was dukedom large enough. Tempest, 1, 2. Knowing I loved my books, he furnished me, From my own library, with volumes that I prize above my dukedom. Tempest, i, 2. Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book. Love's Labour Lost, iv. 2. The books, the arts, the academes, That show, contain, and nourish all the world. Love’s Labour Lost, iv. 3. Come, and take a choice of all my library ; And so beguile thy sorrow. Titus Andronicus, iv. 1. ALONZO OF ARRAGON. Alonzo of Arragon was wont to say in commen- dation of Age, that Age appeared to be best in four things: old wood best to burn; old wine to drink ; old friends to trust ; and old authors to read.—Bacon’s: Apophthegms, No. 101. GUEVARA. 1s) o>) ANTONIO DE GUEVARA. @. 1544. He that lives in his own fields and habitation, which God hath given him, enjoys true peace. . . . The very occasion of ill-doing is by his presence taken away. He busieth not himself ina search of pleasures, but in regulating and disposing of his family ; in the education of his children and domestick discipline. No violent tempestuous motions distract hisrest, but soft gales and a silent aire, refresh and breath upon him. He doth all things commodiously, ordereth his life discreetly, not after the opinion of the people, but bythe rulesof his own certain experience. He knows he must not live here for ever, and therefore thinks frequently of dissolution and the day of death. . . . He that livesin the country, hath Time for his servant, and whatsoever occasions offer themselves—if he be but a discreet observer of his hours—he can have no cause to complaine that they are unseasonable. Nothing will hinder him from the pleasure of books, from devotion, or the fruition of his friends. More happy then, yea by much more happy than any king, if not nearer to a divine felicitie, is that person who lives and dwels in the country upon the rents and profits of his own grounds, There without danger he may act and speake as it becomes simplicity and naked truth. He hath liberty and choice in all his imployments. . . . In the country we can have a harmelesse and cheerfull conversation with our familiar friends, either in our houses or under some shade ; whereas in publick company there are many D 34 GUEVARA. things spoken at randome, which bring more of weari- nesse than of pleasure to the hearers. But the quiet retyr’d liver, in that calme silence, reads over some profitable histories or books of devotion, and very often —stird up by an inward and holy joy—breaks out into divine praises and the singing of hymnes and psalms ; with these sacred recreations—more delightfull than romances, and the lascivious musick of fidlers, which only cloy and weary the ears—doth he feed his soule and refresh his body. The day it self—in my opinion—seems of more length and beauty in the country, and can be better enjoyed than any where else. There the years passe away calmly, and one day gently drives on the other, insomuch that a man may be sensible of a certaine satietie and pleasure from every houre, and may be said to feed upon Time it self, which devours all other things. O who can never fully expresse the pleasures and happinesse of the country-life! . . . what oblec- tation and refreshment it is, to behold the green shades, the beauty and majesty of the tall and ancient groves, to be skill’d in planting and dressing of orchards, flowres, and pot-herbs, to temper and allay these harmlesse imployments with an innocent merry song, to ascend sometimes to the fresh and healthfull hils, to descend into the bosome of the valleys, and the fragrant, deawy meadows, to heare the musick of birds, the murmurs of bees, the falling of springs, and the pleasant discourses of the old plough-men, where without any impediment or trouble a man may walk, SCALIGER—OLD SONG. 35 and—as Cato Censorius us’d to say—discourse with the dead, that is, read the pious works of learned men, who departing this life, left behind them their noble thoughts for the benefit of posterity and the preserva- tion of their own worthy names.—Zhe Praise and Happinesse of the Countrie-Life ; written originally in _ Spanish by Don Antonio de Guevara, Bishop of Carthagena, and Counsellour of Estate to Charls the Fifth Emperour of Germany. Put into English by A, Vaughan, Silurist, 1651. JOSEPH SCALIGER. 1540—1609. I wish I were a skilful grammarian. No one can understand any author, without a thorough knowledge of grammar. Those who pretend to undervalue learned grammarians, are arrant blockheads without any ex- ception. From whence proceed so many dissensions in religious matters, but from ignorance of grammar ?— Scaligerana, OLD ENGLISH SONG. O for a Booke and a shadie nooke, eyther in-a-doore or out ; With the grene leaves whisp’ring overhede, or the Streete cryes all about. Where I maie Reade all at my ease, both of the Newe and Olde; For a jollie goode Booke whereon to looke, is better to me than Golde. 36 SIXTEENTH CENTURY WRITER. A SIXTEENTH CENTURY WRITER. ‘* Bookes lookt on as to their Readers or Authours, do at the very first mention, challenge Preheminence above the Worlds admired fine things. Books are the Glasse of Counsell to dress ourselves by. They are lifes best business: Vocation to these hath more Emolument coming in, than all the other busie Termes of life. They are Feelesse Counsellours, no delaying Patrons, of easie Accesse, and kind Expedition, never sending away empty any Client or Petitioner. They are for Company, the best Friends; in doubts, Coun- sellours; in Damp, Comforters ; Time’s Perspective ; the home Traveller’s Ship, or Horse, the busie man’s best Recreation, the Opiate of Idle weariness ; the mind’s best Ordinary ; Nature’s Garden and Seed-plot of Immortality. Time spent (needlessly) from them, is consumed, but with them, twice gain’d. Time cap- tivated and snatched from thee, by Incursions of busi- ness, Thefts of Visitants, or by thy own Carelessnesse lost, is by these, redeemed in life; they are the soul’s Viaticum ; and against death its Cordiall. Ina true verdict, no such Treasure as a Library.”—Fvom the Introduction to Allibone’s Critical Dictionary of English Literature. Name of Author not given. JosEPH HALL. 1574—1656. I can wonder at nothing more than how a man can be idle; but of all others, a scholar; in so many im- provements of reason, in such sweetness of knowledge, in such variety of studies, in such importunity of ¥OSEPH HALL. 37 thoughts : other artizans do but practice, we still learn ; others run still in the same gyre to weariness, to satiety ; our choice is infinite ; other labours require recreations ; our very labour recreates our sports ; we can never want either somewhat to do, or somewhat that we would do, How numberless are the volumes _which men have written of arts, of tongues! How endless is that volume which God hath written of the world! wherein every creature is a letter ; every day anew page. Who can be wearyof either of these? To find wit in poetry; in philosophy, profoundness; in mathematics, acuteness ; in history, wonder of events; in oratory, sweet eloquence; in divinity, supernatural light, and holy devotion ; as so many rich metals in their proper mines; whom would it not ravish with delight ? After all these, let us but open our eyes, we cannot look beside a lesson, in this universal book of our Maker, worth our study, worth taking out. What creature hath not his miracle? what event doth not challenge his observation ? And, if, weary of foreign employment, we list to look home into ourselves, there we find a more private world of thoughts which set us on work anew, more busily and not less profitably: now our silence is vocal, our solitariness popular; and we are shut up, to do good unto many; if once we be cloyed with our own company, the door of conference is open ; here interchange of discourse (besides pleasure) benefits us ; and he is a weak companion from whom we return not wiser. I could envy, if I could believe that anchoret, who, secluded from the world, and pent up in his voluntary prison walls, denied that he thought 38 FJOSEPH HALL. the day long, whiles yet he wanted learning to vary his thoughts. Not to be cloyed with the same conceit is diffi- cult, above human strength ; but to a man so furnished with all sorts of knowledge, that according to his disposi- tions he can change his studies, I should wonder that ever the sun should seem to pass slowly. How many busy tongues chase away good hours in pleasant chat, and complain of the haste of night! What ingenious mind can be sooner weary of talking with learned authors, the most harmless and sweetest companions ? What a heaven lives a scholar in, that at once in one close room can daily converse with all the glorious martyrs and fathers? that can single out at pleasure, either sententious Tertullian, or grave Cyprian, or resolute Hierome, or flowing Chrysostome, or divine Ambrose, or devout Bernard, or, (who alone is all these) heavenly Augustine, and talk with them and hear their wise and holy counsels, verdicts, resolutions ; yea, (to rise higher) with courtly Esay, with learned Paul, with all their fellow-prophets, apostles; yet more, like another Moses, with God himself, in them both ? Let the world contemn us; while we have these delights we cannot envy them; we cannot wish ourselves other than we are. Besides, the way to all other contentments is troublesome; the only recompense is in the end. To delve in the mines, to scorch in the fire for the getting, for the fining of gold is a slavish toil; the comfort is in the wedge to the owner, not the labourers; where our very search of knowledge is delightsome. Study itself is our life ; from which we would not be barred for a world. FOSE LH MAHAL. 39 How much sweeter then is the fruit of study, the conscience of knowledge? In comparison whereof the soul that hath once tasted it, easily contemns all human comforts. Go now, ye worldlings, and insult Over our paleness, our neediness, our neglect. Ye could not be so jocund if you were not ignorant; if you did not want knowledge, you could not overlook him ' that hath it; for me, I am so far from emulating you, that I profess I had as lieve be a brute beast, as an ignorant rich man. Howisit then, that those gallants, which have privilege of blood and birth, and better education, do so scornfully turn off these most manly, reasonable, noble exercises of scholarship? a hawk becomes their fist better than a book ; no dog but is a better company: any thing or nothing, rather than what we ought. O minds brutishly sensual! Do they think that God made them for disport, who even in his paradise, would not allow pleasure without work ? And if for business, either of body or mind: those of the body are commonly servile, like itself. The mind therefore, the mind only, that honourableand divine part, is fittest to be employed of those which would reach to the highest perfection of men, and would be more than. the most. And what work is there of the mind but the trade of a scholar, study? Let me therefore fasten this problem on our school gates, and challenge all comers, in the defence of it; that no scholar, cannot but be truly noble. And if I make it not good let me never be admitted further then to the subject of our question. Thus we do well to con- gratulate to ourselves our own happiness; if others will come to us, it shall be our comfort, but more theirs ; 40 JOSEPH HALL. if not, it is enough that we can joy in ourselves, and in him in whom we are that we are.—Zfistle to Mr. Milward. Every day is a little life: and our whole is but a day repeated. . . . Thosetherefore that dare lose a day, are dangerously prodigal ; those that dare misspend it, desperate. We can best teach others by ourselves ; let me tell your lordship, how I would pass my days, whether common or sacred. . . . All days are his, who gave time a beginning and continuance; yet some he hath made ours, not to command, but to use. In none may we forget him; in some we must forget all, besideshim. First, therefore, I desire to awake at those hours, not when I will, but when I must; pleasure is not a fit rule for rest, but health; neither do I consult so much with the sun, as mine own necessity, whether of body or in that of the mind. If this vassal could well serve me waking, it should never sleep ; but now it must be pleased, that it must be serviceable. Now when sleep is rather driven away than leaves me, I would ever awake with God; my first thoughts are for him, who hath made the night for rest, and the day for travel; and as he gives, so blesses both. If my heart be early seasoned with his presence, it will savour of him all day after. While my body is dressing, not with an effeminate curiosity, nor yet with rude neglect ; my mind addresses itself to her ensuing task, bethinking what is to be done, and in what order ; and marshalling (as it may) my hours with my work ; that done, after some whiles meditation, I walk up to my masters and companions, my books; and GOSEPH HALE, 41 sitting down amongst them, with the best contentment, I dare not reach forth my hand to salute any of them; till I have first looked up to heaven, and craved favour of him to whom all my studies are duly referred: without whom, I can neither profit, nor labour. After this, out of no over great variety, I call forth those ' which may best fit my occasions ; wherein I am not too scrupulous of age; sometimes I put myself to school, to one of those ancients, whom the church hath honoured with the name of Fathers; whose volumes I confess not to open, without a sacred reverence of their holiness and gravity ; sometimes to those later doctors, which want nothing but age to make them classical; always to God’s book. That day is lost, whereof some hours are not improved in those divine monuments : others I turn over out of choice: these out of duty. Ere I can have sate unto weariness, my family, having now overcome all house- hold distractions, invites me to our common devotions ; not without some short preparation. These heartily per- formed, send me up with a more strong and cheerful appetite to my former work, which I find made easy . to me by intermission, and variety ; now therefore can I deceive the hours with change of pleasures, that is, of labours. One while mine eyes are busied, another while my hand, and sometimes my mind takes the burthen from them both ; wherein I would imitate the skilfullest cooks, which make the best dishes with manifold mixtures; one hour is spent in textual divinity, another in controversy; histories relieve them both. Now, when the mind is weary of other 42 FOSEPH HALL. labours, it begins to undertake her own ; sometimes it meditates and winds up for future use ; sometimes it lays forth her conceits into present discourse ; some- times for itself, ofter for others. Neither know I whether it works or plays in these thoughts; I am sure no sport hath more pleasure, no work more use : only the decay of a weak body makes me think these delights insensibly laborious. Thus could I all day (as ringers use) make myself music with changes, and complain sooner of the day for shortness, than of the business for toil ; were it not that this faint monitor interrupts me still in the midst of my busy pleasures, and en- forces me both to respite and repast; I must yield to both; while my body and mind are joined together in unequal couples, the better must follow the weaker. Before my meals, therefore, and after, I let myself loose from all thoughts ; and now, would forget that I ever studied ; a full mind takes away the body’s appetite no less than a full body makes a dull and un- unwieldy mind ; company, discourse, recreations, are now seasonable and welcome: these prepare me for a diet, not gluttonous, but medicinal ; the palate may not be pleased, but the stomach ; nor that for its own sake ; neither would I think any of these comforts worth respect in themselves but in their use, in their end; so far as they may enable me to better things. If I see any dish to tempt my palate, I fear a serpent in that apple, and would please myself in a wilful denial ; I rise capable of more, not desirous ; not now immediately from my trencher to my book ; but after some intermission. Moderate speed is a sure help to SOSEPH HALL. 43 all proceedings; where those things which are prosecuted with violence of endeavour or desire, either succeed not, or continue not. After my later meal, my thoughts are slight; only my memory may be charged with her task, of recalling what was committed to her custody in the day; and my heart is busy in examining my hands and mouth, and all other senses, of that day’s behaviour. And now the evening is come, no tradesman doth more carefully take in his wares, clear his shopboard, and shut his windows, than I would shut up my thoughts, and clear my mind. That student shall live miserably, which like a camel lies down under his burden. All this done, calling together my family, we end the day with God.—‘‘ How a day should be spent.” In an Epistle to My Lord Denny. What a world of wit is here packed up together ! I know not whether this sight doth more dismay or comfort me; it dismays me to think, that here is so much that I cannot know; it comforts me to think that this variety yields so good helps to know what I should. There is no truer word than that of Solomon— there is no end of making many books; this sight verifies it—there is no end; indeed, it were pity there should. God hath given to man a busy soul, the agitation whereof cannot but through time and expe- rience work out many hidden truths ; to suppress these would be no other than injurious to mankind, whose minds, like unto so many candles, should be kindled by each other. The thoughts of our deliberation are most accurate ; these we vent into our papers; what 44 JOHN FLETCHER. a happiness is it, that without all offence of necromancy, I may here call up any of the ancient worthies of learning, whether human or divine, and confer with them of all my doubts !—that I can at pleasure summon whole synods of reverend fathers, and acute doctors, from all the coasts of the earth, to give their well- studied judgments in all points of question which I propose! Neither can I cast my eye casually upon any of these silent masters, but I must learn somewhat : it -is a wantonness to complain of choice. No law binds me to read all; but the more we can take in and digest, the better liking must the mind’s needs be. Blessed be God that hath set up so many clear lamps in his church. Now, none but the wilfully blind can plead darkness; and blessed be the memory of those his faithful servants, that have left their blood, their spirits, their lives, in these precious papers, and have wil- lingly wasted themselves into these during monuments, to give light unto others.—Occastonal Meditations. JOHN FLETCHER. 1576—1625. Give me Leave to enjoy myself. That place, that does Contain my books, the best companions, is To me a glorious court, where hourly I Converse with the old sages and philosophers. And sometimes for variety, I confer With kings and emperors, and weigh their counsels ; Calling their victories, if unjustly got, Unto a strict account : and in my fancy, Deface their ill-planed statues. Can I then H. PEACHAM—ROBERT BURTON. 45 Part with such constant pleasures, to embrace Uncertain vanities? No: be it your care To augment a heap of wealth ; it shall be mine To increase in Enowicdge- Lights | there tr my study ! If all ae pipes of wine were fill’d iis Rives Made of the barks of trees, or mysteries writ In old moth-eaten vellum, he would sip thy cellar Quite dry, and still be thirsty. Then, for’s diet, He eats and digests more volumes at a meal, Than there would be larks (though the sky should fall) Devour’d in a month in Paris. The Elder Brother, Acti. Scene 2. HENRY PEACHAM. d@. 1640. Affect not, as some do, that bookish ambition, to be stored with books, and have well-furnished libraries, yet keep their heads empty of knowledge. To desire to have many books, and never to use them, is like a child that will have a candle burning by him all the while he is sleeping. —7he Compleat Gentleman. ROBERT BURTON. 1576—1640. But amongst those exercises or recreations of the mind within doors, there is none so general, so aptly to be applied to all sorts of men, so fit and proper to expel idleness and melancholy, as that of study. [Here Cicero is quoted, the passage from whom is given ante p. 2.] What so full of content, as to read, walk, and see maps, pictures, statues, &c. Who is he that is now wholly overcome with idleness, or otherwise encircled in a labyrinth of worldly care, 46 ROBERT BURTON. troubles,- and discontents, that will not be much lightened in his mind by reading of some enticing story, true or feigned, where as in a glass he shall observe what our forefathers have done, the beginnings, ruins, falls, periods of commonwealths, private men’s actions displayed to the life, &c. Plutarch therefore calls them, secundas mensas et bellaria, the second course and junkets, because they were generally read at noblemen’s feasts. Who is not earnestly affected with a passionate speech, well penned, an eloquent poem, or some pleasant bewitching discourse, like that of Heliodorus (Melancthon de Heliodoro), zbz oblectatio quedam placide fluit cum hilaritate con- juncta? . . . To most kind of men it is an extraordinary delight to study. For what a world of books offers itself, in all subjects, arts, and science, to the rival contest and capacity of the reader ! What is there so sure, what so pleasant? . . What vast tomes are extant in law, physic, and divinity, for profit, pleasure, practice, speculation, in verse or prose! Their names alone are the subject of whole volumes ; we know thousands of authors of all sorts, many great libraries full well furnished, like so many dishes of meat, served out for several palates ; and he is a very block that is affected with none of them. . Such is the excellency of these studies that all those ornaments, and childish bubbles of wealth, are not worthy to be compared to them; I would even live and die with such meditations, and take more delight, true content of mind in them, than thou hast in all thy wealth and sport, how rich soever thou art. And as Cardan well seconds me—‘‘ it is more honour- ROBERT BURTON. 47 able and glorious to understand these truths, than to govern provinces, to be beautiful, or to be young.” The like pleasure there is in all other studies, to such as are truly addicted to them; the like sweetness, which, as Circe’s cup bewitcheth a student, he cannot leave off. Julius Scaliger . . . brake out into a peace protestation, he had rather be the author of twelve verses in Lucan, or such an Ode in Horace, than Emperor of Germany. . . . King James (1605), when he came to see our University of Oxford, and amongst other edifices now went to view that famous Library renewed by Sir Thomas Bodley, in imitation of Alexander, at his departure brake out into that noble speech: ‘‘If I were not a king, I would be a University man ; and if it were so that I must be a prisoner, if I might have my wish, I would desire to have no other prison than that library, and to be chained together with so many good authors.” So sweet is the delight of study, the more learning they have (as he that hath a dropsy, the more he drinks, the thirstier he is) the more they covet to learn; harsh at first learning is, radices amare, but fructus dulces, according to Isocrates, pleasant at last; the longer they live, the: more they are enamoured with the Muses. Heinsius, the keeper of the library at Leyden, in Holland, was mewed up in it all the year long; and that which to thy thinking should have bred loathing, caused in him a greater liking. ‘‘I no sooner (saith he) come into the library, but I bolt the doors to me, excluding lust, ambition, avarice, and all such vices, whose nurse is idleness, the mother of ignorance, and melancholy herself ; and in the very lap of eternity amongst so 48 ROBERT BURTON. many divine souls, I take my seat with so lofty a spirit and sweet content, that I pity all our great ones and rich men that know not this happiness.” s Whosoever he is therefore that is overrun with solitari- ness, or carried away with pleasing melancholy and vain conceits, and for want of employment knows not how to spend his time; or crucified with worldly care, I can prescribe him no better remedy than this of study . . . provided always that this malady pro- ceed not from overmuch study; for in such case he adds fuel to the fire, and nothing can be more per- nicious; let him take heed he do not overstretch his wits, and make a skeleton of himself. . . . Study is only prescribed to those that are otherwise idle, troubled in mind, or carried headlong with vain thoughts and imaginations to distract their cogitations (although variety of study, or some serious subject, would do the former no harm), and direct their con- tinual meditations another way. Nothing in this case better than study. . . . Read the Scriptures, which Hyperius holds available of itself; ‘ the mind is erected thereby from all worldly cares, and hath much quiet and tranquillity.” For as Austin well hath it, ’tis sctentia scientiarum, omni melle dulcior, omni pane suavior, omni vino hilarior: ’tis the best nepenthe, surest cordial, sweetest alterative, presentest diverter; for neither, as Chrysostom well adds, ‘‘those boughs and leaves of trees which are plashed for cattle to stand under, in the heat of the day, in summer, so much refresh them with their acceptable shade, as the reading of the Scripture doth recreate and comfort a distressed soul, in sorrow and afflictior.” . . . guod SIR THOMAS OVERBURY. 49 cibus corport, lectio anime facit, saith Seneca, ‘‘as meat is to the body, such is reading to the soul.” . . Cardan calls a library the physic of the soul ; ‘* divine authors fortify the mind, make men bold and constant; and (as Hyperius adds) godly conference will not permit the mind to be tortured with absurd _ cogitations.” Rhasis enjoins continual conference to such melancholy men, perpetual discourse of some history, tale, poem, news, &c., which feeds the mind as meat and drink doth the body, and pleaseth as much, . . ~. Saith Lipsius, ‘‘when I read Seneca, methinks I am beyond all human fortune, on the top of a hill above mortality.” . . . I would for these causes wish him that is melancholy to use both human and divine authors, voluntarily to impose some task upon himself to divert his melancholy thoughts. .. . Or let him demonstrate a proposition in Euclid, in his last five books, extract a square root, or study algebra; than which, as Clavius holds, ‘‘in all human dis- ciplines nothing can be more excellent or pleasant, so abstruse, and recondite, so bewitching, so miraculous, so ravishing, so easy withal and full of delight.” — Zhe Anatomy of Melancholy, Part ii., Sec. 2, Memb. 4. StrR THOMAS OVERBURY. 158I1—1613. Books are a part of man’s prerogative, In formal ink they Thoughts and Voices hold, That we to them our Solitude may give, And make Time Present travel that of Old. Our Life Fame pieceth longer at the End, And Books it farther backward do extend. The Wefe. E 50 JOHN HALES. JoHN HALES. 1584—1656. From the order of Reading, and the matters in Reading to be observed, we come to the method of observation, What order we are for our best use to keep in extring our Notes into our Paper-Books. The custom which hath most prevailed hitherto, was common placing a thing at the first Orzg¢nal very plain and szmple ; but by after-times much increased, some augmenting the number of the Heads, others inventing quainter forms of disposing them: till at length Common-place-books became like unto the Roman Breviarie or Missal, It was a great part of Clerk- ship to know how to use them. The Vastness of the Volumes, the multitude of Heads, the intricacy of dis- position, the pains of committing the Heads to memory, and last, of the labour of so often turning the Books to enter the observations in their due places, are things so expensive of time and industry, that although at length the work comes to perfection, yet it is but like the Szlver Mines in Wales, the profit will hardly quit the pains. I have often doubted with my self, whether or no there were any necessity of being so exactly Methodical, First, because there hath not yet been found a Method of that Latitude, but little reading would furnish you with some things, which would fall without the compass of it. Secondly, because men of confused, dark and clowdy understandings, no beam or light of order and method can ever rectifie ; whereas men of clear understanding, though but in a mediocrity, if they read good Books carefully, and note diligently, it is impossible but they should find incredible profit, YOHN HALES. 51 though their Notes lie never so confusedly. The strength of our zatural memory, especially if we help it, by revising our own Notes; the sature of things themselves, many times ordering themselves, and ¢aztzn non, telling us how to range them; a medtocrity of care to see that matters lie not too Chaos-/zke, will with - very small damage save us this great labour of being over-superstitiously methodical, And what though perad- venture something be lost, Hxzzs domus est, &c. It is a sign of great poverty of Scholarshif, where every thing that zs lost, zs miss’d ; whereas rich and well accomplish'd learning is able to lose many things with little or no inconvenience. In your reading excerge, and note in your Books such, things as you like: going on continually without any respect unto order ; and for the avotding of confusion, it shall be very profitable to allot some time to the reading again of your own JVofes ; which do as much and as oft as youcan. For by this means your Notes shall be better fixt in your memory, and your memory will easily supply you of things of the like nature, if by chance you have disfersedly noted them ; that so you may bring them together by marginal references. But because your Notes in time must needs arise to some bulk, that it may be too great a task, and too great loss of time to review them, do thus, Cause a large Judex to be fram’d according to Alphabetical order, and Register in it your Heads, as they shall offer themselves in the course of your reading, every Head under his Zroper Letter. For thus, though your Notes. lie confused in your Papers, yet are they digested in 52 RHODIGINUS—LORD CHANDOS. your /udex, and to draw them together when you are to make use of them, will be nothing so great pains as it would be, to have ranged them under their several Hleads at their first gathering.