"The Book of Merry Riddles" -- Introduction of Proverbs in our
Literature -- A Surfeit of Proverbs -- "The two Angrie Women
of Abington" -- Fuller on the Misuse of Proverbs -- The
Sayings of Hendyng -- Proverbs in Works of Chaucer, Lydgate,
Spenser, Dryden, Shakespeare, and other Writers -- The
"Imitation of Christ" -- Glitter is not necessarily Gold --
The Cup and the Lip -- Comparisons odious -- The Rolling-Stone
-- The "Vision of Piers Plowman" -- Guelph and Ghibelline --
Dwellers in Glass Houses -- A Spade is a Spade -- Chalk and
Cheese -- Silence gives Consent -- A Nine Days' Wonder -- The
little Pot soon Hot -- Weakest to the Wall -- Proverb-Hunting
through our old Literature.
Throughout the Middle Ages a great use was made, as we have seen, of
these popular adages on tapestries, rings, and in fact wherever they
could be employed. Shakespeare, it will be recalled, writes of a but
moderately good poetaster as one "whose poetry was
For all the world like cutler's poetry
Upon a knive, 'Love me, and leave me not,'"[65:A]
and we shall therefore naturally expect to find numerous allusions to
this wealth of proverb-lore in the writings of the day. The works of the
Elizabethan dramatists are brimming over with them. Such a fund of
material as the "Book of Merry Riddles" must have been often drawn upon.
The first edition was printed in 1600, and contained, amongst other
entertaining material, a collection of "choice and witty proverbs." It
was often re-issued, and our last chapter has revealed to us how many
other collections of like nature were issued and immediately became
available.
We propose to devote now some little space to exploring in search of
proverbial allusions a little of the literary wealth of our country, and
we may say at once that proverbs, like everything else, require discreet
use, and it is not difficult to overdo the thing. A person who would be
always dragging in these adages would be a terrible nuisance in
conversation, and no less so in literature. In such a case "Enough is as
good as a feast." One would quickly weary of a page or two of this sort
of thing--a brochure during the days of a suggested invasion of England
by "Boney"--
"Our foes on the ocean sent plenty of ships,
But 'It's not the best carpenter makes the most chips';
They promise to give Britain's sailors a beating,
Though 'the proof of the pudding is found in the eating.'
The French have big armies, but their threats are but froth,
For 'too many cooks do but spoil good broth';
They are welcome Britannia to catch when they get her,
But though 'Brag is a good dog yet Holdfast's a better.'
For their threats of invasion we ne'er care a rush--
'A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush';
They may think, open-mouthed, to devour us like sharks,
But 'Till the sky falls we must wait to catch larks.'"
"The pleasant historie of the two angrie women of Abington"[66:A] is,
despite its self-assertion of its pleasantness, rendered very tedious by
this abuse and superabundance of proverbs--one of the characters in the
play, one Nicholas Prouerbes, introducing them _ad nauseam_. To give any
notion of the drift of the play is beside our present need. We will
content ourselves, therefore, with some few extracts that will suffice
to indicate the point before us, the excessive use of these popular
adages:
"_Nicholas._ O maister Philip forbeare. You must not leape
ower the stile before you come to it; haste makes waste; softe
fire makes sweet malte; not too fast for falling; there's no
hast to hang true men.
"_Philip._ Now will I see if my memorie will serue for some
prouerbes too. O, a painted cloath were as well worth a
shilling as a theefe worth a halter; wel, after my heartie
commendations, as I was at the making therof. He that trots
easilie will indure. You have most learnedly proverbde it,
commending the virtue of patience and forbearance, but yet you
know forbearance is no quittance.
"_Nich._ I promise ye, maister Philip, you have spoken as true
as steele.
"_Phil._ Father, there's a prouerbe well applied.
"_Nich._ And it seemeth vnto me that you mocke me; do you not
kno mocke age and see how it will prosper?
"_Phil._ Why ye prouerbe booke bound up in follio, have ye no
other sense to answere me but euery word a prouerbe, no other
English?"
Presently a dispute arises outside, and Nicholas is asked, "Wilt thou
not go see the fraye?" to which this inveterate proverb-monger replies:
"No indeed, even as they brew so let them bake--I will not
thrust my hand into a flame and neede not--'Tis not good to
have an oare in another man's boat--Little said is soone
amended, and in a little medling commeth great rest. 'Tis good
sleeping in a whole skin--so a man might come home by
weeping-crosse. No, by Lady, a friend is not so soone gotten
as lost--blessed are the peace-makers--they that strike with
the sword shall be beaten with the zcabberd."
To this flow of wisdom Philip replies:
"Well said, Prouerbes, is ne're another to that purpose?"
The too ready Nicholas makes reply:
"Yes, I could have said to you, Syr, take heede is a good
reede."
His fellow serving-man at one portion of the play sees well to call
Nicholas "tripe-cheeke, fat asse," and other epithets of like nature;
upon which he replies:
"Good words cost nought, ill words corrupt good manners,
Richard, for a hasty man never wants woe, and I had thought
you had been my friende, but I see alle is not golde that
glisters, time and truth tryeth all, and 'tis an old prouerbe
and not so olde as true, bought wit is the best. I can see day
at a little hole. I knowe your minde as well as though I were
within you: goe to, you seeke to quarrell, but beware of lead
I wist; so long goes the potte to the water at length it comes
home broken. I knowe you are as goode a man as ever drew
sword, as ere lookt man in the face, as ere broke bred or
drunke drinke; but he is propper that hath propper conditions,
be not you like the Cowe that gives a good sope of milke and
casts it downe with his heeles. I speak, plainely, for plaine
dealing is a Iewell, yet Ile take no wrong, if hee had a head
as big as Brasse and lookt as high as Poules steple."
Coomes, not quite liking the tone of these remarks, replies:
"Sirra, thou grashoper, thou shal skip from my sword as from a
sithe. Ile cut thee out in collops and steakes and frye thee
with the fier I shall strike from the pike of thy Bucklet."
To this appalling threat, not best adapted to soothe matters over, or
pour oil on the troubled waters, Nicholas replies:
"Brag's a good dog: threatened folkes liue long."
Further quotation is quite needless; enough, amply enough, has been
brought forward to convince us how terrible a bore the inveterate quoter
of proverbs can readily become. We are prepared after this to sympathise
entirely with the sentiments of old Fuller: "Adages and prouerbs are to
be accounted only as Sauce to relish Meat with, but not as substantial
Dishes to make a Meal on; and therefore were never good but upon proper
Subjects and Occasions, where they may serve to give a lively Force and
pleasant Turn to what is said: but to apply them wrong and crack them
off too thick, like Sancho in 'Don Quixote,' is abominably foppish,
ridiculous and nauseous." We had our eye on Sancho Panza, but any
comments that we might have made on his conduct in cracking off proverbs
so thick become needless, since Fuller has already said all that need be
hurled against so hardened an offender.
A very curious early manuscript has come under our notice, in which the
common proverbs of the time are quoted by one of the villains. It is
arranged in stanzas of six lines, each being then followed by a proverb.
This latter is sometimes in two lines and sometimes in one, but is in
every case attributed to the villains, "Ce dit li vilains." It deals
with the proverbs current in Bretaigne, and commences:
"Qui les proverbes fist
Premierement bien dist
Au tans qu'alors estoit
Or est tout en respit.
En ne chante ne lit
D'annor en nul endroit
'Que a la bone denrée
A mauvaise oubliée'
Ce dit li vilains."
This quaint old French may be thus Anglicised: "He who first made
proverbs spoke well to the people of his time; now all is forgotten,
people neither sing nor read of honour in any place. He who has the good
ware has forgotten the bad--so says the villain." The moral does not
seem somehow to quite fit, unless indeed we read it to mean that when
people had abundant supply of this proverb-law they had the good, and
were so enamoured of it that it had supplanted in their hearts all
desire for what they once preferred--the evil that was now quite driven
from their hearts and forgotten.
Another verse terminates thus:
"Qui n'aime son mestier
Ne son mestier lui
Ce dit li vilains"--
"Who likes not his business his business likes not him." Another proverb
that remains a very familiar one, as to the folly of not taking full
precautions, and only shutting the stable door when the horse has
already been taken, appears as
"Quant le cheval est emble
Dounke ferme fols l'estable
Ce dit li vilains."
The date of this poem is about the year 1300. How long the proverbs
given therein date before its appearance--centuries possibly--we cannot
say; but even if we took this poem as a point to start from, it is very
interesting to reflect that this stolen horse and his unlocked stable
have been for hundreds of years a warning to the heedless, and as well
known to the men of Cressy and Agincourt as to those of this present
day. However men, as Cavaliers or Roundheads, Lancastrians or Yorkists,
priests or presbyters, differed from each other in much else, all agreed
in this recognition of the folly of not taking better care of the steed
they all knew so well.
We have an imitation of this old French poem in an English one that was
almost contemporaneous, and, as in the preceding poem, each stanza is an
amplification of the idea in the proverb that immediately follows,
though in either case this gloss or development is not always very much
to the point.
The first verse is dedicatory, invoking the Divine blessing:
"Mon that wol of wysdom heren
At wyse Hendyng he may lernen
That wes Marcolmes sone:
Gode thonkes out monie thewes
For te teche fele shrewes
For that wes ever is wone
Jhesu Crist al folke red
That for us all tholede ded
Upon the rode tre
Lene us all to ben wys
Ant to ende in his servys.
Amen, par charite.
God biginning maketh god endyng
Quoth Hendyng."
"Of fleysh lust cometh shame," and "if thou will fleysh overcome" the
wisest course is flight from the temptation:
"Wel fytht that wel flyth
Quoth Hendyng."
If you would avoid the evils that follow hasty speech keep the tongue
with all diligence in subjection, for though one's tongue has no bone in
it itself it has been the cause of many a broken bone in the quarrels
that it has fostered:
"Tonge breketh bon
Ant nad hire selve non
Quoth Hendyng."
"Al too dere," he warns us, "is botht that ware that we may wythoute
care," gather at a terrible risk to ourselves. It is the grossest folly
to find a momentary pleasure in any act that will bring misery in its
train, for
"Dere is boht the hony that is licked of the thorne
Quoth Hendyng."
Where counsel fails, experience may step in and exact a higher price for
the lesson taught:
"So that child withdraweth is hond
From the fur ant the brond
That hath byfore ben brend
Brend child fur dredeth
Quoth Hendyng."[72:A]
The Italians still more powerfully say that "A scalded dog dreads cold
water," the meaning of this clearly being that those who have suffered
in any direction have an exaggerated fear in consequence, and are
afraid, even when there is no cause, really, for terror. This idea is
even more strongly brought out in the old Rabbinical adage, "He who has
been bitten by a serpent fears a piece of rope," a quite imaginable
state of mind to arrive at.[72:B]
Up till now we have shown how one writer may use many proverbs; we will
turn to the other alternative and seek to show how one proverb is used
by many writers. In doing so we are at once struck by the variety of
garb in which it may appear. The inner spirit and meaning, the core,
remains inviolate naturally, but its presentation to us is by no means
in one set formula. We are warned not to judge alone by outward
appearance, nor to assume too hastily precious metal in what may prove
to be but dross or a poor counterfeit of the real thing. Hence Chaucer
warns us, "All thing which that shineth as the gold He is no gold, as I
have heard it told." Lydgate, writing on "the Mutability of human
affairs," declares truly enough that "all is not golde that outward
showeth bright"; while Spenser, in his "Faerie Queene," hath it that
"Gold all is not that doth golden seem"; and Shakespeare, in the
"Merchant of Venice," writes, "All that glisters is not gold."[73:A]
Dryden's version, in the "Hind and Panther," is very similar, "All, as
they say, that glitters is not gold"; and Herbert, in the "Jacula
Prudentum," reverses the wording into "All is not gold that glisters."
In "Ralph Roister Doister" we find the reading, "All things that shineth
is not by and by pure gold"; while the Italians have the equivalent,
"Non é oro tutto quel che luce."
In Greene's "Perimedes," published in the year 1588, we find the
passage, "Though men do determine the gods doo dispose, and oft times
many things fall out betweene the cup and the lip." The first portion of
this passage is almost invariably cited in French--"l'homme propose et
le Dieu dispose"--giving the impression that the saying is of Gallic
origin. How far back into the ages this proverb goes we cannot trace. We
find it in the "Imitation of Christ" of Thomas à Kempis as, "Nam homo
proponit sed Deus disponit." It is possible that the French rendering
became current in our midst because the "Imitation," when first
translated from the original Latin, was rendered into French. The book
at once sprang into notice and esteem, and the passages under our
consideration would be noticeable not only from its declaration of a
great truth but from its rhythm--a rhythm that was well preserved in its
French rendering. The French translation of the "Imitation of Christ"
appeared in 1488, while the first English version was not produced till
the year 1502. In the "Vision of Piers ploughman," written somewhere
about the year 1360, we find the saying given in Latin, while George
Herbert, who died in 1633, introduces it as "Man proposeth, God
disposeth."
The possibilities that may exist in the short interval of time between
raising the cup to the lips and setting it down again are made the
subject of a warning proverb that is of immense antiquity. The Samian
king, Ancæus, while planting a vineyard was warned by a diviner that he
would not live to take its fruits. Time passed on and the vineyard
prospered, until at length one day the king, goblet in hand, was to
taste for the first time the wine it had yielded. He recalled the
prophecy, and derided the power of the seer as he stood before him. At
this moment a messenger arrived with the news that a wild boar was
ravaging the vineyard, and Ancæus, hastily putting down the cup, seized
his spear and rushed out to slay the boar, but himself fell a victim to
the onslaught of the furious beast.[74:A] Thus, to quote a considerably
more modern authority, Jonson's "Tale of a Tub," "you see the old adage
verified--many things fall between the cup and lip."
It is a wise rule of conduct to bear in mind that great offence may be
given by comparing one thing with another, as the process is almost sure
to end to the more or less detriment of one or the other, or possibly,
when the spirit of criticism is rampant, in the depreciation of both.
Hence Lydgate writes in 1554, "Comparisons do oftimes great grevance,"
and in More's "Dial" the idea recurs--"Comparysons be odyouse."
Gascoigne, in the year 1575, declares in his "Posies," "I will forbear
to recyte examples by any of mine owne doings, since all comparisons are
odious." Dr John Donne in an "Elegy" has the line, "she and comparisons
are odious," and we find the same idea in Burton's "Anatomy of
Melancholy," in Heywood's play, "A Woman Killed with Kindness," in "Don
Quixote," and many other works.
Shakespeare, in his "Much Ado about Nothing," puts into the mouth of
Dogberry the variation "comparisons are odorous." Swift, in his "Answer
to Sheridan's Simile," writes:
"We own your verses are melodious,
But then comparisons are odious."
Lilly, in the "Euphues," seems to think that comparisons may at times be
an offence when the objects of such a scrutiny are incomparable in their
excellence; that each is so perfect that any suggestion of comparison
becomes necessarily a depreciation and a dethronement. Hence he
writes--"But least comparisons should seeme odious, chiefly where both
the parties be without comparison, I will omitte that," and he returns
to this idea in his "Midas," where he distinctly lays down the
proposition that "Comparisons cannot be odious where the deities are
equall."
The picturesque adage, "a rolling stone gathers no moss," is still
popular amongst our people. In Turner's "Five hundred pointes of good
husbandrie," a book written between three and four hundred years ago, we
find the same precept:
"The stone that is rouling can gather no mosse;
Who often remoueth is sure of losse.
The rich it compelleth to paie for his pride;
The poore it vndooeth on euerie side."
Marston, in "The Fawn," written in the year 1606, has an allusion to
this proverb:
"Thy head is alwaies working: it roles and it roles,
Dondolo, but it gathers no mosse."
In the "Vision of Piers Plowman" we appear at first sight to have a
quaint and interesting variant--"Selden mosseth the marbelston that men
ofte treden." But it will be seen that in thus altering the wording from
the type-form we have also varied its significance; it is, in fact, a
new saying, and of different application. To point out to a restless and
aimless ne'er-do-well, throwing up one position after another, that no
moss will be found growing on the doorstep of some busy office would be
an entirely pointless proceeding not tending to edification.
Another familiar proverb is "well begun is half done." We find its
equivalent in Horace and the severer Juvenal. Many of our proverbs were
as familiar to Horace as to ourselves. "Money in purse will always be in
fashion," and to "harp on the same string" are expressions, for
instance, that were very familiar to the ancient Romans, and which are
quite as intelligible to-day.
In the "Confessio Amantis" of Gower we find:
"A prouerbe I haue herde saie,
That who that well his worke beginneth,
The rather a good ende he winneth."
This proverb has historic interest, as its use on one fateful occasion
was the final cause of desolating civil war that long ravaged Tuscany.
When Boundelmonte broke his engagement with a lady of the family of the
Amadei, and married into another, the kinsmen assembled in council to
consider how the slight should be avenged, and atonement made for their
wounded honour. Some of the more impetuous demanded the death of the
young cavalier as the only possible reparation; but others hesitated,
not from any particular regard for the traitor, but because of the great
issues involved--consequences which in the after-event proved so
disastrous to the Florentines. At length Mosca Lamberti, tired of this
hesitation, sprang to his feet, and declared that those who talked were
not likely to do anything else but talk, that the consideration of the
matter from every point of view would lead to no worthy result, and
make them objects of contempt, and then quoted the adage familiar to
them all--"Capo a cosa fatta"--well begun is half done. This sealed the
fatal determination, the die was cast, Boundelmonte was murdered, and
thus was Florence at once involved in the strife between Guelph and
Ghibelline, and the fair land of Tuscany became the battlefield of those
contending factions.
The incident is referred to by Dante in the "Inferno." Amid his
wanderings in these gloomy shades he presently arrives where
"One deprived of both his hands, who stood
Lifting the bleeding stumps amid the dim
Dense air, so that his face was stained with blood,
Cried--'In thy mind let Mosca take a place,
Who said, alas! "Deed done is well begun,"
Words fraught with evil to the Tuscan race.'"
It is a widely recognised principle that those who live in glass houses
themselves should be very careful how they throw stones at others, as
retaliation is so fatally easy.[77:A] In a collection of "Proverbes en
rimes," published in Paris in 1664, we find--
"Qui a sa maison de verre
Sur le voisin ne jette pierre."
In the "Troilus" of Chaucer we find the same prudent abstinence from
stone-throwing advocated, but in this case it is the stone-thrower's
head and not his house that is in danger of reprisals.
"Who that hath an hede of verre
Fro caste of stones war hym in the werre."
The use of the word "verre" instead of glass seems to suggest that the
French version was so far current in England that all would know it, and
that it was immaterial whether the rendering was in French or in
English. When James of Scotland succeeded, at the death of Elizabeth,
to the English throne, one of the first results was that London became
inundated with Scotchmen, all anxious to reap some benefit from the new
political position. This influx caused a considerable amount of
jealousy, and the Duke of Buckingham organised a movement against them,
and parties were formed for the purpose of breaking their windows, and
in a general way making them feel the force of an adverse public
opinion. By way of retaliation, a number of Scotchmen smashed the
windows of the duke's mansion in St Martin's Fields, known as "the Glass
House," and on his complaining to the king His Majesty replied,
"Steenie, Steenie, those who live in glass houses should be carefu' how
they fling stanes." The story is told in Seton's "Life of the Earl of
Dunfermline," and it will be appreciated that the quotation by our
"British Solomon" of this ancient adage was very neatly put in.
Those who pride themselves on a certain blunt directness of speech, and
who declare that they always speak their mind, further define the
position they take up by declaring that they call a spade a spade. There
certainly are occasions when such a course is the only honest one, when
a man has to make his protest and refuse to connive at any
circumlocution or whittling away of principle. There are other occasions
when a regard for the feelings of others makes such a proceeding sheer
brutality, and it is, we believe, a well-established fact that the
audience of those who pride themselves on speaking their mind ordinarily
find that they are the victims of a somewhat unpleasant experience.
Baxter declares, "I have a strong natural inclination to speak of every
subject just as it is, and to call a spade a spade, so as that the thing
spoken of may be fullest known by the words. But I unfeignedly confess
that it is faulty because imprudent." "I am plaine," we read in
Marprelate's "Epitome," "I must needs call a spade a spade," and Ben
Jonson advises to "boldly nominate a spade a spade."
In the year 1548 Archbishop Cranmer was busily engaged on a design for
the better unity of all the Protestant churches by having one common
confession and one body of doctrine drawn out of Holy Writ, to which all
could give their assent. Melancthon, amongst others, was consulted by
the archbishop, and was very favourable to the idea, but he strongly
advised him, if the matter were to be carried to a successful issue, "to
avoid all ambiguities of expression, call a spade a spade, and not cast
words of dubious meaning before posterity as an apple of discord." Wise
and weighty words that never fructified.
John Knox, who was not by any means the man to go out of his way to
prophesy smooth things or palliate wrong-doing by any euphuism or a
prudent turning away of the head, declares, "I have learned to call
wickedness by its own terms, and to call a fig a fig and a spade a
spade"; while Shakespeare, in his "Coriolanus," goes equally straight to
the mark: "We call a nettle but a nettle, and the faults of fools but
folly." Erasmus writes: "Ficus ficus, ligonem ligonem vocat" of a
certain man.
Boileau in like manner writes, "J'appelle un chat un chat"; and
Rabelais, "Nous sommes simples gents, puisqu'il plaist à Dieu: et
appellons les figues figues, les prunes prunes, et les poires poires."
In the pages of Plutarch we read that Philip of Macedon, in answer to an
irate ambassador, who complained to him that the citizens on his way to
the palace had called him a traitor, replied: "My subjects are a blunt
people, and call things always by their right names. To them figs are
figs, and they call spades spades." The adage is one of unknown
antiquity, and may be found in the writings of Aristophanes,
Demosthenes, Lucian, and other classic authors. Erasmus, in his
"Apophthegmes," published in 1542, tells the story of the discomfiture
of the embassy to the Macedonian court very quaintly: "When those
persons that were at Lasthenes found themselfes greued and toke fumishly
that certain of the traine of Phillipus called theim traitours,
Phillipus answered that the Macedonians were feloes of no fine witte in
their termes, but altogether grosse, clubbish, and rusticall, as the
whiche had not the witte to cal a spade by any other name than a spade,
alluding to that the commen vsed prouerbe of the Grekes calling figgues
figgues, and a bote a bote. As for his mening was that they were
traitours in very deede. And the fair flatte truthe that the vplandishe
or homely and play-clubbes of the countree dooen use, nameth eche thinge
of the right names."
In Taverner's "Garden of Wysdome," published in 1539, the Macedonians
are described as "very homely men and rudely brought vppe, which call a
mattok nothing els but a mattok, and a spade a spade"--a very right and
proper thing for Macedonians or anyone else to do on most occasions, but
sometime a little too much like the unconscious brusqueness of children,
who have in such matters no discretion, and who forget, or have never
been taught, the more cautious precept that "all truths are not to be
told on all occasions."
Those who, avoiding one difficulty, rashly run into a still greater
dilemma, are warned, as in More's "Dial," that "they lepe lyke a
flounder out of the fryenge panne into the fyre." Tertullian, Plato, and
other early writers vary the wording to "Out of the smoke into the
fire," but the pith of the matter is the same. Fire and smoke play their
part in several adages. One of these, "If you will enjoy the fire you
must not mind the smoke," recalls the days when the domestic
arrangements were somewhat cruder than in those more luxurious days,
but it still remains a valuable reminder that whatever advantages we may
enjoy we must also be prepared for certain drawbacks. The Latin
"Commodatis quævis sua fert incommoda secum" covers the same ground; and
the French, "Nul feu sans fumée"--no fire without smoke, no good without
some inconvenience--echoes the same idea. On the other hand, "Where
there is smoke there is fire," the appearance of evil is a warning that
the evil exists, the loose word implies the loose life. As the effect we
see cannot be causeless, it is a danger-signal that we must not ignore.
The present whiff of smoke, if disregarded, may be the herald of half an
hour hence a raging conflagration, spreading ruin on every side.
When a strong comparison, the expression of a marked difference, is
called for, we may, in the words of Shaclock, in his "Hatchet of
Heresies," published in 1565, exclaim, "Do not these thynges differ as
muche as chalcke and chese?" or, turning to the "Confessio Amantis" of
Gower, find for our purpose, "Lo, how they feignen chalk for cheese!"
while Heywood hath it:
"That as well agreeth the comparison in these,
As alyke to compare in tast, chalk and cheese."
Another popular proverb of our ancestors was "Fast bind, fast find."
Hence, on turning to the "Merchant of Venice," we find the admonition,
"Do as I bid you. Shut doors after you: fast bind, fast find--a proverb
never stale in thrifty mind"; and the counsel is found repeated in the
"Jests of Scrogin," published in 1565: "Wherefore a plaine bargain is
best, and in bargaines making, fast bind, fast find"--a certain business
shrewdness, a legal document, even the turning of a key in a door, will
at times preserve to us unimpaired property that carelessness would have
lost to us.
"The more the merrier" is an adage that has a pleasantly hospitable
ring about it, though we are reminded in addition that the multiplicity
of guests may lead to a certain pinching in the supplies. Heywood
reminds us how
"The more the merrier we all day here see,
Yea, but the fewer the better fare, sayd he";
while Gascoigne, in his "Poesies," while he quotes with approval the old
adage, "Store makes no sore"--no one is the worse for having a little
reserve laid by--yet "Mo the merier is a proverbe eke" that must not be
overlooked. "More the merrier" is the happy title of a book of epigrams
published in 1608, and we may come across the sentiment in two or three
of the plays of Beaumont and Fletcher, and in many other directions.
Our readers will recall Spenser's eulogium on
"Dan Chaucer, well of English undefyled,
On Fame's eternal beadroll worthie to be fyled."
The proverb-seeker finds in his picturesque pages abundant store. The
"nonne preeste" exclaims, "Mordre wol out, that see we day by day," and
in the Reve's prologue he reminds us that "Yet in our ashen cold is fire
yreken"; or, as a later writer hath it, "E'en in our ashes live our
wonted fires." Chaucer again reminds us that "The proverbe saith that
many a small makith a grete"; or, as it is sometimes given, "Many a
little makes a mickle." The French tell us that even the drainage of the
great deep is possible if only there be sufficient patience: "Goutte à
goutte la mer s'egoute."[82:A] Every heart knows its own bitterness,
knows all about that skeleton in the cupboard that the world has no
suspicion of, knows just where the shoe pinches. Hence Chaucer
exclaims, "But I wot best when wryngeth me my scho";[83:A] and in his
"Testament of Love," where he writes, "Lo, eke an old proverb, he that
is still seemeth as he granted," or, as we should say now-a-days,
"Silence gives consent."[83:B] Another well-known adage and piece of
worldly wisdom is, "Of two ills choose the least," a proverb found in
the "Imitation of Christ" of À Kempis, in Hooker's "Polity," and
elsewhere. Chaucer is to the fore with the saying, "Of harmes two the
lesse is for to cheese." The saying appears as "E duobus malis minimum
eligendum" in the pages of Cicero, so that it is not by any means an
adage of yesterday's creation. It was, doubtless, a venerable saying
long before Cicero employed it. When the idea got compacted into a
recognised wisdom-chip, who can say? The rule of conduct is so clear and
so in accordance with common-sense that we may well believe that the
practice, if not the precept, would date from about the year one.
A "nine days' wonder" appears in the pages of the "Troilus" of Chaucer,
as "Eke wonder last but nine daies never in towne." A thing makes a
great sensation for a few days, and then something else arises, and the
former matter is quite forgotten. Chaucer's addition to the adage of the
limitation to town is curious, though on consideration a good deal can
be said for it, since in towns incidents succeed each other quickly, and
aid this obliteration of the past. Sometimes the proverb is extended
into "A nine days' wonder, and then the puppy's eyes are open"--in
allusion to the fact that dogs, like cats and several other animals,
are born blind. One may read this as referring to those who make a
wonder of an ordinary thing; the blindness of these little new-born
puppies, or, in somewhat less literal sense, the puppies whose eyes are
presently open, are those people who are blind and puzzled over some
incident which they presently see through and unravel, and then lose all
interest in.
As an encouragement to those who seem to be the victims of one
misfortune after another, of continued ill fortune, the ancient saw is
quoted, "'Tis a long lane has no turning." The expression is a
picturesque one, and no doubt carries comfort and teaches patience. In
the pages of Chaucer it appears as "Som tyme an end ther is on every
deed." The only time we knew it absolutely to fail was in the case of an
old man named Lane, who had his full share of the worries of life, and
to whom one kindly well-wisher after another quoted this well-worn
saying. Each thought that he had hit upon a happy idea, and applied it
there and then, in full faith that it would be of soothing efficacy, but
as, in the aggregate, the old fellow had had it fired off at him some
hundreds of times, it acted instead as a powerful irritant! It was one
trouble the more to carry through life.
One might, in the same way, though we have by no means exhausted the
Chaucerian wealth of proverb-lore, hunt through the pages of
Shakespeare, Milton, Pope, and other writers, and should reap an
abundant harvest. It may be somewhat of a shock that Milton's name
should appear in such a connection, since the stately dignity of his
work would appear entirely alien to the general tone of the popular
adage; but one sees in this passage from "Comus"--
"Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud
Turn forth her silver lining to the night?"--
a beautiful allusion to a well-known proverb. The plays of Shakespeare
abound with these proverbial allusions. In the "Taming of the Shrew,"
for instance, we find, "Now, were I a little pot and soon hot," a
proverb applied to short-tempered people who on slight cause wax wroth.
The homely pot plays its part in homely conversation. The man whom
Fortune has thwarted "goes to pot," waste and refuse metal to be cast
into the melting-pot. The man on hospitable thoughts intent may invite
his neighbour to pot-luck, to such chance repast, good or bad, as the
"pot au feu" may yield. People who deride or scorn others for matters in
which they are at least as much concerned are compared to the pot that
called the kettle black,[85:A] while the rashness of those who,
insufficiently provided with this world's goods, seek to rival others
better provided and come to grief in the experiment, are reminded how
the brazen and earthen pot swam down together on the swirling flood and
collided to the detriment of the pitcher.[85:B] In "King Henry VI." we
have "Ill blows the wind that profits nobody,"[85:C] and "Smooth runs
the water where the brook is deep." In "Hamlet" the familiar adage,
"Murder will out," appears as "Murder, though it have no tongue, will
speak." "Every dog has his day"; we say: every man his chance, so in
"Hamlet" we find--
"Let Hercules himself do what he may,
The cat will mew, and dog will have his day."
In "Othello" we come across an equally well-known proverb, "They laugh
that win," so quaintly curtailed by Heywood into "He laugth that winth."
Another familiar adage is that "Use is second nature," and this
Shakespeare, in the "Two Gentlemen of Verona," refines into "How use
doth breed a habit in a man!" In "As You Like It" another well-known saw
presents itself in the lines, "If it be true that good wine needs no
bush, 'tis true that a good play needs no epilogue." The bush in
question was an ivy-bough, the emblem of Bacchus, and the custom of
marking the wine-shop by this dates from Roman days. "Vino vendibili
hedera non opus est." The custom was continued throughout the Middle
Ages; but a good article, the proverb tells us, needs no advertisement,
or, as the French proverb hath it, "Au vin qui se vend bien il ne faut
point de lierre."
In the days of our forefathers the streets were narrow, and there were
no pavements; while discharging pipes and running gutters by the sides
of the walls made the centre of the road the more agreeable place for
the traveller. Wheeled conveyances of divers sorts passing and repassing
forced the foot-passenger to the side of the road, and any tumult or
street fight would drive the conquered pell-mell to take refuge in the
houses or to the shelter of the wall out of the rush. Hence the proverb,
"The weakest goes to the wall." In "Romeo and Juliet" Sampson and
Gregory are found in the market-place of Verona, and the former
declares, "I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's"; to
whom the latter unsympathetically replies, "That shows thee a weak
slave, for the weakest goes to the wall."
The wisdom of our ancestors discovered that "He who is born to be hanged
will never be drowned," and our readers will recall how in the "Tempest"
Gonzalo comforts himself in the contemplation of the villainous ugliness
of the boatswain. "I have great comfort," he says, "from this fellow:
methinks he hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is perfect
gallows. Stand fast, good fate, to his hanging! Make the rope of his
destiny our cable, for our own doth little advantage! If he be not born
to be hanged our case is miserable."
To make our list of quotations exhaustive, and therefore probably
exhausting, is by no means necessary; we give but samples from the bulk,
and in conclusion of our present chapter give some few of our commoner
saws and one, or at most two, references to some old writer's work where
it may be encountered. Naturally, the wording of some of the more
ancient quotations is not always quite that of to-day.
"The potte may goo so longe to water that atte the last it is broken" we
found in a manuscript of about the year 1545, entitled, "The book of the
Knight of La Tour." The very ancient proverb, familiar to us in its
Biblical garb, about the folly of the blind leading the blind, will be
found in Gower's "Confessio Amantis"--
"As the blinde another ledeth,
And, till they falle, nothing dredeth."
The constant dropping that wears at length away a stone we found
referred to in a manuscript of the time of Henry VIII. "So long may a
droppe fall that it may perse a stone."
"The common proverb, as it is read,
That we should hit the nail on the head,"
is a couplet in a little book, "Wit Restor'd," issued in 1568, and we
also find Skelton writing, "He hyt the nayle on the hede."
A caution to those who try and steer a deceitful course between those of
opposing interests, treacherously allowing each to think they have
exclusive support, has duly been crystallised into a proverb, and Lily
introduces it in the following passage:--"Whatsouer I speake to men, the
same also I speake to women. I meane not to run with the Hare and holde
with the Hounde." "By hook or by crook" will be found in Spenser's
"Fairie Queene." "Diamond cut diamond" is in Ford's play of "the Lover's
Melancholy." "Every tub must stand upon its own bottom" occurs in the
"Pilgrim's Progress." "He must have a long spoon that would eat with the
devil" is found in Chaucer and Shakespeare, amongst other writers. That
"The moon is made of green cheese" is re-asserted by Rabelais and in the
pages of "Hudibras."
In Swift's "polite conversation," proverbs are thickly strewn. We find
the old statement that "You must eat a peck of dirt before you die," the
well-meant impertinence of "teaching one's grandmother to suck eggs,"
the communistic doctrine that "Sauce for the goose is no less sauce for
the gander," and many other well-worn scraps of ancestral belief and
practice. The wisdom of suiting your position to your circumstances, of
cutting one's garment according to the material available, is emphasised
in a "Health to the gentlemanly profession of Serving-Men," a brochure
issued in 1598, where these worthies are warned, "You, with your
fraternitie in these latter dayes cannot be content to shape your coate
according to your cloth." In Marston's play of "What you Will," written
in 1607, we have a familiar and homely caution borrowed from the
experience of the kitchen--"Faith, Doricus, thy braine boils; keele it,
keele it, or all the fatts in the fire," a proverb employed when by some
inadvertence a man brings against himself a sudden blaze of wrath.
Proverb-hunting is a very pleasant recreation. We have left a vast field
practically untrodden. We cannot do better than conclude in the quaint
words of a little pamphlet that we once came across--"a collection of
the Choycest Poems relating to the late Times" (1662). "Gentlemen, you
are invited here to a feast, and if variety cloy you not, we are
satisfied. It has been our care to please you. These are select things,
a work of time, which for your sake we publish, assuring you that your
welcome will crown the entertainment. Farewell."
FOOTNOTES:
[65:A] "Love me little, love me long" is found in the writings of
Christopher Marlowe: "Pray, love me little, so you love me long," in
Herrick.
[66:A] "The Pleasant Historie of the two Angrie Women of Abington, with
the humerous mirthe of Dick Coomes and Nicholas Prouerbes, two
seruingmen. As it was lately played by the Right Honourable the Earl of
Nottingham, Lord High Admirall, his Servants. By Henry Porter, gent.
Imprinted at London for Joseph Hunt and William Farbrand, and are to be
solde at the corner of Colman Street, neere Loathburie. 1599."
[72:A]
"Why urge yee me? My hart doth boyle with heate
And will not stoope to any of your lures:
A burnt child dreads the ffyre."--Timon, c. 1590.
[72:B] Ovid writes: "Tranquillas etiam naufragus horret aquas"--the man
who has been wrecked dreads still water. The Portuguese make the cat the
subject of their proverb--"Gato escaldado d'agua fria tem medo."
[73:A] We need scarcely point out that any reference to the use of any
proverb is not intended to imply that this is the only use of it by that
writer. "Yet gold is not that doth golden seem" is equally Shakespeare
with the quotation given above. One passage will ordinarily suffice, but
not because it is the only one available.
[74:A] The story is told by Pausanias: "Multa cadunt inter calicem
supremaque labra."--_Horace._
[77:A] "Stones and idle words are things not to be thrown at random."
[82:A] "Petit à petit l'oiseau fait son nid."
[83:A]
"What cloke for the rayne so ever yee bring mee,
Myselfe can tell best where my shoee doth wring mee."--_Heywood._
[83:B] In "Cymbeline" Shakespeare writes--
"But that you shall not say I yield, being silent, I would not speak."
It was a proverb of Ancient Rome, "Qui tacet consentire videtur," and in
Modern Italy it reappears as "Chi ta ce confessa." In France it is
"Assez consent qui ne dit mot."
[85:A] Or, to quote another expressive and homely English proverb, "The
chimney-sweep told the collier to go wash his face." In France they say
"La pêle se moque du fourgon," the shovel makes game of the poker.
[85:B] "Burden not thyself above thy power, and have no fellowship with
one that is mightier or richer than thyself. For how agree the kettle
and the earthen pot together? For if one be smitten against the other it
shall be broken."--_Ecclesiasticus_ xiii. 2.
[85:C] "An yll wynd that blowth no man good."--HEYWOOD, _Song against
Idleness_, 1540.
"It is an old proverb and a true,
I sware by the roode,
It is an il wind that blows no man to good."
--"Marriage of Wit and Wisdom," 1570.