FOOTNOTES:

[27] We learn from Harrison's _Description of England_, prefixed to Holinshed, that _eleven o'clock_ was the usual time for dinner during the reign of Elizabeth. "With vs the n.o.bilitie, gentrie, and students, doo ordinarilie go to dinner at _eleuen before noone_, and to supper at fiue, or between fiue and six at afternoon." (vol. i. page 171. edit. 1587.) The alteration in manners at this time is rather singularly evinced, from a pa.s.sage immediately following the above quotation, where we find that _merchants_ and _husbandmen_ dined and supped at a _later hour than the n.o.bility_.

[28] Alluding to the public dinners given by the sheriff at particular seasons of the year. So in _The Widow_, a comedy, 4to. 1652.

"And as at a _sheriff's table_, O blest custome!

A poor indebted gentleman may dine, Feed well, and without fear, and depart so."

XV.

A CARRIER

Is his own hackney-man; for he lets himself out to travel as well as his horses. He is the ordinary emba.s.sador between friend and friend, the father and the son, and brings rich presents to the one, but never returns any back again. He is no unlettered man, though in shew simple; for questionless, he has much in his budget, which he can utter too in fit time and place. He is [like] the vault[29] in Gloster church, that conveys whispers at a distance, for he takes the sound out of your mouth at York, and makes it be heard as far as London. He is the young student's joy and expectation, and the most accepted guest, to whom they lend a willing hand to discharge him of his burden. His first greeting is commonly, _Your friends are well_; [_and to prove it_][30] in a piece of gold delivers their blessing. You would think him a churlish blunt fellow, but they find in him many tokens of humanity. He is a great afflicter of the high-ways, and beats them out of measure; which injury is sometimes revenged by the purse-taker, and then the voyage miscarries. No man domineers more in his inn, nor calls his host unreverently with more presumption, and this arrogance proceeds out of the strength of his horses. He forgets not his load where he takes his ease, for he is drunk commonly before he goes to bed. He is like the prodigal child, still packing away and still returning again. But let him pa.s.s.

FOOTNOTES:

[29] The chapel of the Virgin Mary, in the cathedral church of Gloucester, was founded by Richard Stanley, abbot, in 1457, and finished by William Farley, a monk of the monastery, in 1472. Sir Robert Atkyns gives the following description of the vault here alluded to. "The _whispering place_ is very remarkable; it is a long alley, from one side of the choir to the other, built circular, that it might not darken the great east window of the choir. When a person whispers at one end of the alley, his voice is heard distinctly at the other end, though the pa.s.sage be open in the middle, having large s.p.a.ces for doors and windows on the east side. It may be imputed to the close cement of the wall, which makes it as one entire stone, and so conveys the voice, as a long piece of timber does convey the least stroak to the other end. Others a.s.sign it to the repercussion of the voice from accidental angles." _Atkyns' Ancient and Present State of Glostershire. Lond. 1712, folio, page 128._ See also _Fuller's Worthies, in Gloucestershire, page 351_.

[30] _Then in a piece of gold_, &c. first edit.

XVI.

A YOUNG MAN;

He is now out of nature's protection, though not yet able to guide himself; but left loose to the world and fortune, from which the weakness of his childhood preserved him; and now his strength exposes him. He is, indeed, just of age to be miserable, yet in his own conceit first begins to be happy; and he is happier in this imagination, and his misery not felt is less. He sees yet but the outside of the world and men, and conceives them, according to their appearing, glister, and out of this ignorance believes them. He pursues all vanities for happiness, and [31][_enjoys them best in this fancy._] His reason serves, not to curb but understand his appet.i.te, and prosecute the motions thereof with a more eager earnestness. Himself is his own temptation, and needs not Satan, and the world will come hereafter. He leaves repentance for grey hairs, and performs it in being covetous. He is mingled with the vices of the age as the fashion and custom, with which he longs to be acquainted, and sins to better his understanding. He conceives his youth as the season of his l.u.s.t, and the hour wherein he ought to be bad; and because he would not lose his time, spends it. He distastes religion as a sad thing, and is six years elder for a thought of heaven. He scorns and fears, and yet hopes for old age, but dare not imagine it with wrinkles. He loves and hates with the same inflammation, and when the heat is over is cool alike to friends and enemies. His friendship is seldom so stedfast, but that l.u.s.t, drink, or anger may overturn it. He offers you his blood to-day in kindness, and is ready to take yours to-morrow. He does seldom any thing which he wishes not to do again, and is only wise after a misfortune. He suffers much for his knowledge, and a great deal of folly it is makes him a wise man. He is free from many vices, by being not grown to the performance, and is only more virtuous out of weakness. Every action is his danger, and every man his ambush. He is a ship without pilot or tackling, and only good fortune may steer him. If he scape this age, he has scaped a tempest, and may live to be a man.

FOOTNOTES:

[31] _Whilst he has not yet got them, enjoys them_, First edit.

XVII.

AN OLD COLLEGE BUTLER

Is none of the worst students in the house, for he keeps the set hours at his book more duly than any. His authority is great over men's good names, which he charges many times with shrewd aspersions, which they hardly wipe off without payment. [His box and counters prove him to be a man of reckoning, yet] he is stricter in his accounts than a usurer, and delivers not a farthing without writing. He doubles the pains of Gollobelgicus,[32]

for his books go out once a quarter, and they are much in the same nature, brief notes and sums of affairs, and are out of request as soon.

His comings in are like a taylor's, from the shreds of bread, [the]

chippings and remnants of a broken crust; excepting his vails from the barrel, which poor folks buy for their hogs but drink themselves. He divides an halfpenny loaf with more subtlety than Keckerman,[33] and sub-divides the _a primo ortum_ so nicely, that a stomach of great capacity can hardly apprehend it. He is a very sober man, considering his manifold temptations of drink and strangers; and if he be overseen, 'tis within his own liberties, and no man ought to take exception. He is never so well pleased with his place as when a gentleman is beholden to him for shewing him the b.u.t.tery, whom he greets with a cup of single beer and sliced manchet,[34] and tells him it is the fashion of the college. He domineers over freshmen when they first come to the hatch, and puzzles them with strange language of cues and cees, and some broken Latin which he has learnt at his bin. His faculties extraordinary is the warming of a pair of cards, and telling out a dozen of counters for post and pair, and no man is more methodical in these businesses. Thus he spends his age till the tap of it is run out, and then a fresh one is set abroach.

FOOTNOTES:

[32] Gallo-Belgicus was erroneously supposed, by the ingenious Mr. Reed, to be the "first news-paper published in England;" we are, however, a.s.sured by the author of the "Life of Ruddiman," that it has no t.i.tle to so honourable a distinction. Gallo-Belgicus appears to have been rather an _Annual Register_, or _History of its own Times_, than a news-paper. It was written in Latin, and ent.i.tled. "MERCURIJ GALLO-BELGICI: _sive, rerum in Gallia, et Belgio potissimum: Hispania quoque, Italia, Anglia, Germania, Polonia. Vicinisque locis ab anno 1588, ad Martium anni 1594, gestarum_, NUNCIJ." The first volume was printed in 8vo. at Cologne, 1598; from which year, to about 1605, it was published annually; and from thence to the time of its conclusion, which is uncertain, it appeared in _half-yearly_ volumes. Chalmers' _Life of Ruddiman_, 1794. The great request in which newspapers were held at the publication of the present work, may be gathered from Burton, who, in his _Anatomy of Melancholy_, complains that "if any read now-a-days, it is a play-book, or a pamphlet of newes."

[33] Bartholomew Keckerman was born at Dantzick, in Prussia, 1571, and educated under Fabricius. Being eminently distinguished for his abilities and application, he was, in 1597, requested, by the senate of Dantzick, to take upon him the management of their academy; an honour he then declined, but accepted, on a second application, in 1601. Here he proposed to instruct his pupils in the complete science of philosophy in the short s.p.a.ce of three years, and, for that purpose, drew up a great number of books upon logic, rhetoric, ethics, politics, physics, metaphysics, geography, astronomy, &c. &c. till, as it is said, literally worn out with scholastic drudgery, he died at the early age of 38.

[34] Of bread made of wheat we have sundrie sorts dailie brought to the table, whereof the first and most excellent is the _mainchet_, which we commonlie call white bread. Harrison, _Description of England_ prefixed to Holinshed, chap. 6.

XVIII.

AN UPSTART COUNTRY KNIGHT

[_Is a holiday clown, and differs only in the stuff of his clothes, not the stuff of himself_,][35] for he bare the king's sword before he had arms to wield it; yet being once laid o'er the shoulder with a knighthood, he finds the herald his friend. His father was a man of good stock, though but a tanner or usurer; he purchased the land, and his son the t.i.tle. He has doffed off the name of a [36][_country fellow_,] but the look not so easy, and his face still bears a relish of churne-milk. He is guarded with more gold lace than all the gentlemen of the country, yet his body makes his clothes still out of fashion. His house-keeping is seen much in the distinct families of dogs, and serving-men attendant on their kennels, and the deepness of their throats is the depth of his discourse. A hawk he esteems the true burden of n.o.bility,[37] and is exceeding ambitious to seem delighted in the sport, and have his fist gloved with his jesses.[38] A justice of peace he is to domineer in his parish, and do his neighbour wrong with more right.[39] He will be drunk with his hunters for company, and stain his gentility with droppings of ale. He is fearful of being sheriff of the shire by instinct, and dreads the a.s.size-week as much as the prisoner. In sum, he's but a clod of his own earth, or his land is the dunghill and he the c.o.c.k that crows over it: and commonly his race is quickly run, and his children's children, though they escape hanging, return to the place from whence they came.

FOOTNOTES:

[35] _His honour was somewhat preposterous, for he bare_, &c. first edit.

[36] _Clown_, first edit.

[37] The art of hawking has been so frequently and so fully explained, that it would be superfluous, if not arrogant, to trace its progress, or delineate its history, in this place. In the earliest periods it appears to have been exclusively practised by the n.o.bility; and, indeed, the great expense at which the amus.e.m.e.nt was supported, seems to have been a sufficient reason for deterring persons of more moderate income, and of inferior rank, from indulging in the pursuit. In the _Sports and Pastimes_ of Mr. Strutt, a variety of instances are given of the importance attached to the office of falconer, and of the immense value of, and high estimation the birds themselves were held in from the commencement of the Norman government, down to the reign of James I. in which sir Thomas Monson gave _1000l._ for a cast of hawks, which consisted of only _two_.

The great increase of wealth, and the consequent equalization of property in this country, about the reign of Elizabeth, induced many of inferior birth to practise the amus.e.m.e.nts of their superiors, which they did without regard to expense, or indeed propriety. Sir Thomas Elyot, in his _Governour_ (1580), complains that the falkons of his day consumed so much poultry, that, in a few years, he feared there would be a great scarcity of it. "I speake not this," says he, "in disprayse of the faukons, but of them which keepeth them lyke c.o.c.kneyes." A reproof, there can be no doubt, applicable to the character in the text.

[38] A term in hawking, signifying the short straps of leather which are fastened to the hawk's legs, by which she is held on the fist, or joined to the leash. They were sometimes made of silk, as appears from -- _The Boke of hawkynge, huntynge, and fysshynge, with all the propertyes and medecynes that are necessarye to be kepte_: "Hawkes haue aboute theyr legges gesses made of lether most comonly, some of sylke, which shuld be no lenger but that the knottes of them shulde appere in the myddes of the lefte hande," &c. _Juliana Barnes._ edit. 4to. "_Imprynted at London in Pouls chyrchyarde by me Hery Tab._" sig. C. ii.

[39] _This authority of his is that club which keeps them under as his dogs hereafter._ First edit.

XIX.

AN IDLE GALLANT

Is one that was born and shaped for his cloaths; and, if Adam had not fallen, had lived to no purpose. He gratulates therefore the first sin, and fig-leaves that were an occasion of [his] bravery. His first care is his dress, the next his body, and in the uniting of these two lies his soul and its faculties. He observes London trulier than the terms, and his business is the street, the stage, the court, and those places where a proper man is best shown. If he be qualified in gaming extraordinary, he is so much the more genteel and compleat, and he learns the best oaths for the purpose. These are a great part of his discourse, and he is as curious in their newness as the fashion. His other talk is ladies and such pretty things, or some jest at a play. His pick-tooth bears a great part in his discourse, so does his body, the upper parts whereof are as starched as his linnen, and perchance use the same laundress. He has learned to ruffle his face from his boot, and takes great delight in his walk to hear his spurs gingle. Though his life pa.s.s somewhat slidingly, yet he seems very careful of the time, for he is still drawing his watch out of his pocket, and spends part of his hours in numbering them. He is one never serious but with his taylor, when he is in conspiracy for the next device. He is furnished with his jests, as some wanderer with sermons, some three for all congregations, one especially against the scholar, a man to him much ridiculous, whom he knows by no other definition, but a silly fellow in black. He is a kind of walking mercer's shop, and shows you one stuff to-day and another to-morrow; an ornament to the room he comes in as the fair bed and hangings be; and it is meerly ratable accordingly, fifty or a hundred pounds as his suit is. His main ambition is to get a knight-hood, and then an old lady, which if he be happy in, he fills the stage and a coach so much longer: Otherwise, himself and his cloaths grow stale together, and he is buried commonly ere he dies in the gaol, or the country.