The account which our author gives of the plunder of his manuscripts

after the battle of Worcester, and of the strange series of accidents by

which some of the documents which make up _The Jewel_ were preserved, is

so odd and amusing that it would be a pity to deprive our readers of it,

though it is related by Sir Thomas at great length. "No sooner," he

says, "had the total rout of the regal party at Worcester given way to

the taking of that city, and surrendring up of all the prisoners to the

custody of the marshal-general and his deputies, but the liberty,

customary at such occasions to be connived at in favours of a victorious

army, imboldened some of the new-levied forces of the adjacent counties

to confirm their conquest by the spoil of the captives. For the better

atchievement of which designe, not reckoning those great many others

that in all the other corners of the town were ferreting every room for

plunder, a string or two of exquisite snaps and clean shavers

[snappers-up and plunderers?] (if ever there were any), rushing into

Master Spilsbury's house, (who is a very honest man, and hath an

exceeding good woman to his wife), broke into an upper chamber, where

finding, (besides scarlet cloaks, buff suits, arms of all sorts, and

other such rich chaffer, at such an exigent escheatable to the

prevalent soldier[203]), seven large portmantles ful of precious

commodity; in three whereof, after a most exact search for gold, silver,

apparel, linen, or any whatever adornments of the body, or pocket

implements, as was seized upon in the other four, not hitting on any

things but manuscripts in folio, to the quantity of six score and eight

quires and a half, divided into six hundred fourty and two quinternions

and upwards, the quinternion consisting of five sheets, and the quire of

five and twenty; besides some writings of suits in law, and bonds, in

both worth above three thousand pounds English, they in a trice carried

all whatever els was in the room away save those papers, which they then

threw down on the floor as unfit for their use; yet immediately

thereafter, when upon carts the aforesaid baggage was put to be

transported to the country, and that by the example of many hundreds of

both horse and foot, whom they had loaded with spoil, they were

assaulted with the temptation of a new booty, they apprehending how

useful the paper might be unto them, went back for it, and bore it

straight away; which done, to every one of those their camarads whom

they met with in the streets, they gave as much thereof, for packeting

up of raisins, figs, dates, almonds, caraway, and other such like dry

confections and other ware, as was requisite; who, doing the same

themselves, did together with others kindle pipes of tobacco with a

great part thereof, and threw out all the remainder upon the

streets....

"Of those dispersedly-rejected bundles of paper, some were gathered up

by grocers, druggists, chandlers, pie-makers, or such as stood in need

of any cartapaciatory utensil, and put in present service, to the utter

undoing of all the writing thereof, both in its matter and order. One

quinternion, nevertheless, two days after the fight on the Friday

morning, together with two other loose sheets more, by vertue of a

drizelling rain, which had made it stick fast to the ground, where there

was a heap of seven and twenty dead men lying upon one another, was by

the command of one Master Braughton taken up by a servant of his; who,

after he had (in the best manner he could) cleansed it from the mire and

mud of the kennel, did forthwith present it to the perusal of his

master; in whose hands it no sooner came, but instantly perceiving by

the periodical couching of the discourse, marginal figures, and breaks

here and there, according to the variety of the subject, that the whole

purpose was destinated for the press, and by the author put into a garb

befitting either the stationer or printer's acceptance; yet because it

seemed imperfect, and to have relation to subsequent tractates, he made

all the enquiry he could for trial whether there were any more such

quinternions or no; by means whereof he got full information that above

three thousand sheets of the like paper, written after that fashion, and

with the same hand, were utterly lost and imbezzeled, after the manner

aforesaid; and was so fully assured of the misfortune, that to gather up

spilt water, comprehend the windes within his fist, and recover those

papers again, he thought would be a work of one and the same labour and

facility."[204]

The anonymous personage who gives the above account says that he heard

of Mr Braughton's discovery of these remarkable documents, and also of

"the great moan made for the loss of Sir Thomas Urquhart's manuscripts,"

and, putting the two facts together, resolved to ask Sir Thomas if the

papers found at Worcester belonged to him. He examined them, and

identified them as part of the preface to a grammar and lexicon of a

Universal Language, of which he was the inventor. The loss of a work of

such a size and of such great importance did not greatly depress him. He

stated that if he got but encouragement and time, freedom and the

enjoyment of his ancestral estates, he doubted not but that he could

supply the missing sheets--the originals of which had come to such base

uses and disastrous fate at Worcester. The papers, therefore, found by

Mr Braughton are published in order that the readers may see the

reasonableness of giving Sir Thomas what he asked, in view of the

astounding benefits which he would in return confer upon them. This is

put with great clearness and brevity in a couplet prefixed to the above

narrative:

"He should obtain all his desires,

Who offers more than he requires."

The fragment of the treatise concerning the Universal Language, which

was picked up out of the gutter of Worcester streets, wiped clean, and

presented to the public in _The Jewel_, was republished with additions

in Sir Thomas Urquhart's next work, so that we may here pass it over

without further notice and allude to some of the other matters treated

of.

In order to vindicate the honour of his country, Sir Thomas Urquhart

tells at considerable length of the fame won by various compatriots of

his in war in every part of Europe, during the earlier half of the

seventeenth century, and he draws the attention of his readers to the

fact that, at no battle in the period named, were all the Scots that

fought overthrown and totally routed. The explanation of this statement

is that there were always Scots on both sides, so that, if some were

defeated and taken prisoners, others of that nation were victorious and

givers of quarter. This part of the work is of great historical value,

and, as Burton remarks, is not liable to the reproach of Urquhart's

usual wandering profuseness of language--its leading defect, on the

other hand, being its too great resemblance at times to a muster-roll.

The choicest and most remarkable passage in Sir Thomas Urquhart's

original works is, undoubtedly, the description he gives in _The Jewel_

of his fellow-countryman "the Admirable Crichton," who belonged to the

latter part of the sixteenth century. In an appendix[205] our readers

may find a long extract from it, in which that hero's feats are related.

But for fear of making the appendices out of all proportion to the size

of this volume, the whole sketch might have been given. To most people

the name of "the Admirable Crichton" is now a mere proverbial phrase to

describe a universal genius, and whether the person who bore it is a

historical or a mythical character, is a matter of some uncertainty. If

any who are possessed of only this amount of information on the subject

seek for more by reading our author's description of Crichton, the

probability is that they will decide that he is quite mythical. The

extraordinary flightiness, turgidity, and bombast which mark the

narrative, in spite of its many conspicuous merits, make it seem a mere

piece of burlesque, rather than a genuine history;[206] and yet there is

ample evidence of an unimpeachable kind of the truthfulness of the main

statements which it contains. Sir Thomas Urquhart's narrative was for a

long time one of the principal sources of information concerning the

brilliant young Scotchman, and the result was that a general disbelief

in the whole history became prevalent.[207] As Burton says, "It was

from the hands of Sir Thomas Urquhart that the world accepted of an idol

which, after a period of worship, it cast down, but so hastily, as it

was discovered, that it had again to be set up, but rather in surly

justice than the old devout admiration."[208] Tytler, in his _Life of

the Admirable Crichton_, gives full proof from contemporary writers that

the accomplishments and feats ascribed to that personage are authentic.

James Crichton was born in 1560, of a noble family, at Eliock, in

Perthshire. At the age of ten he became a student at St. Andrews, then

the most famous university in Scotland. Before he was fifteen years of

age he graduated as Master of Arts, and stood third in order of merit

among the students of his year. After leaving the university he spent

three years in the pursuit of learning, devoting himself to one after

another of the various branches of the science and philosophy of his

time, until he had gone through nearly the whole of them; and, by force

of natural ability, aided, no doubt, by intense application, he acquired

the use of ten different languages.

Some time probably in the year 1578 he began his foreign travels, with

the desire not only to enlarge his experience of the world, but also to

display the extent of his learning in those public disputations which

were still in fashion at the continental universities. In form and

countenance he is said to have been a perfect model of manly beauty;

whilst in all the accomplishments of his time he was as well versed as

in the branches of learning. He was a skilful swordsman, a bold rider, a

graceful dancer, a sweet singer, and a cultivated musician. Soon after

his arrival in Paris he set up, in accordance with a custom of the time,

in various parts of the city, challenges to literary and philosophic

disputation, and announced that he would present himself on a certain

day at the College of Navarre, to answer any questions that might be put

to him "in any science, liberal art, discipline, or faculty, whether

practical or theoretic," and this in any one of twelve specified

languages--Hebrew, Syriac, Arabic, Greek, Latin, Spanish, French,

Italian, English, Dutch, Flemish, or Selavonian. Our readers may find in

the appendix a full narrative in Sir Thomas Urquhart's inimitable style

of this extraordinary episode. Though Crichton seemed to make no

preparation for the learned encounter, to which he had challenged the

most scholarly men in France, he acquitted himself in such a manner as

to astonish all beholders, and to receive the congratulations of the

president and professors of the University of Paris. From this display

of his intellectual powers and acquirements, as well as from the

brilliant figure he cut at the balls and tournaments, which were such

favourite employments of the Court of France at that time, he acquired

the title by which he is now universally known--that of "the Admirable

Crichton."[209]

It is worth while to compare the passage in Rabelais which describes the

similar feats of the giant Pantagruel with the account Sir Thomas

Urquhart gives of Crichton's intellectual tournaments.[210] To us there

seems something very ridiculous in the practice of posting up placards

on the walls, challenging all-comers to disputation, but in the

sixteenth century it would not necessarily appear in this light.

Rabelais, indeed, laughed at it; but then he laughed at many things

which the people of his time did not think absurd. John Hill Burton is

of the opinion that Sir Thomas Urquhart, in describing the way in which

Crichton conducted himself on the field which had witnessed Pantagruel's

feats, had the ridicule of Rabelais in view, and that, in spite of his

laudations, we cannot help having the impression that his tongue is all

the time in his cheek. We think that this is unfair to Sir Thomas. There

is no reason why those who looked on in admiration at a real tournament

should not also enjoy seeing a burlesque one. So that it is quite

possible that our author smiled while he translated the French satire,

and that he glowed with honest pride and admiration as he recounted his

fellow-countryman's exploits before the University of Paris.

After serving for a couple of years in the French army, Crichton

journeyed into Italy, and in the month of August, 1580, arrived in

Venice. He made the acquaintance of the famous printer, Aldus Manutius,

who introduced him to the principal men of learning and note in that

city. Here he maintained the reputation he had acquired in Paris, and

lives of him were written and published. From Venice he proceeded to

Padua, and from thence to the Court of Mantua, where the adventure

occurred with which Sir Thomas Urquhart begins the narrative of his

celebrated fellow-countryman's exploits, namely, the defeat and death of

the travelling bravo, whose challenge he had accepted. Sir Thomas is the

only authority for this incident in Crichton's history. As there is no

reason to believe that he invented it, we are at liberty to suppose that

he found it in some one of the lives of Crichton which he met with in

his Italian travels, but which has not come down to us, or that he heard

of it from some of those who witnessed it. For, as Urquhart was born

only twenty-three years after Crichton's death, he must, in the course

of his continental travels, have met some who were his contemporaries.[211]

In consequence of this achievement, and also of the brilliant reputation

acquired by Crichton, he was appointed by the Duke of Mantua, companion

and tutor to his son, Vincenzio de Gonzaga, a young man of some literary

culture, but of furious temper and dissolute morals. Very soon after,

Crichton met his death in a tragical manner. He was walking home one

evening in the streets of Mantua, from a visit to his mistress, and was

playing a guitar, when suddenly he was attacked by a riotous party of

men in masks, whom, however, he speedily put to flight. He seized the

leader of the party, overpowered him, and tore off his mask, and found

to his horror that it was his own pupil, the son of the Duke of Mantua.

He instantly dropped upon one knee, and, in a spirit of romantic

devotion, took his sword by the blade, and presented its hilt to the

prince. Vincenzio, heated with wine, irritated at his discomfiture, and

also, it is said by some, inspired by jealousy, took the sword and

plunged it into Crichton's heart. The brilliant young Scotsman was but

twenty-two years of age when he thus met his fate.

The narrative which Sir Thomas Urquhart gives of the death of his hero

is marked by the same richness of description as is to be found in the

account of his exploits as a scholar, a swordsman, and an actor. In

language of astonishing luxuriance and frequent happiness of phrase, he

enlarges upon the incidents of the last evening of Crichton's life, and

depicts the tender intercourse of the lovers before the sudden and

bloodly close of their courtship. With a minuteness which, as Tytler

remarks, reminds one of the multitude of particulars by the enumeration

of which Mrs Quickly sought to bring to Falstaff's remembrance his

promise to marry her,[212] Sir Thomas Urquhart depicts the lovers in the

"alcoranal paradise" in which they were embowered on that evening.

"Nothing," he says, "tending to the pleasure of all the senses was

wanting; the weather being a little chil and coldish, they on a blue

velvet couch sate by one another towards a char-coale fire burning in a

silver brasero, whilst in the next room adjacent thereto a pretty little

round table of cedar wood was a covering for the supping of them two

together; the cates prepared for them, and a week before that time

bespoke, were of the choisest dainties and most delicious junkets that

all the territories of Italy were able to afford, and that deservedly,

for all the Romane Empire could not produce a completer paire to taste

them."[213]

A tragical note rings through the description of the lamentation of the

hapless girl over her murdered lover. "She, rending her garments and

tearing her haire, like one of the Graces possest with a Fury, spoke

thus: 'O villains! what have you done? you vipers of men, that have thus

basely slaine the valiant Crichtoun, the sword of his own sexe and the

buckler of ours, the glory of this age, and restorer of the lost honour

of the Court of Mantua: O Crichtoun, Crichtoun!'"[214]

The sequel of the story is in the same vein of florid eloquence. "The

whole court," says Sir Thomas, "wore mourning for him full three

quarters of a yeer together. His funeral was very stately, and on his

hearse were stuck more epitaphs, elegies, threnodies, and epicediums,

then [than], if digested into one book, would have outbulk't all Homer's

works; some of them being couched in such exquisite and fine Latin, that

you would have thought great Virgil, and Baptista Mantuanus, for the

love of their mother-city, had quit the Elysian fields to grace his

obsequies; and other of them, besides what was done in other languages,

composed in so neat Italian, and so purely fancied, as if Ariosto,

Dante, Petrark, and Bembo had been purposely resuscitated, to stretch

even to the utmost their poetick vein to the honour of this brave man;

whose picture till this hour is to be seen in the bed-chambers or

galleries of the most of the great men of that nation, representing him

on horseback, with a lance in one hand and a book in the other; and most

of the young ladies likewise, _that were anything handsome_,[215] in a

memorial of his worth, had his effigies in a little oval tablet of gold

hanging 'twixt their breasts, and held, for many yeers together, that

metamazion, or intermammilary ornament, an as necessary outward pendicle

for the better setting forth of their accoutrements, as either fan,

watch, or stomacher. My lord Duke, upon the young lady that was

Crichtoun's mistres and future wife, although she had good rents and

revenues of her own by inheritance, was pleased to conferr a pension of

five hundred ducats a yeer. The Prince also bestowed as much on her

during all the days of his life, which was but short, for he did not

long enjoy himself after the cross fate of so miserable an accident. The

sweet lady, like a turtle bewailing the loss of her mate, spent all the

rest of her time in a continual solitariness."[216]

After giving a long list of his fellow-countrymen who had won fame in

foreign lands by their valour, learning, or skill, in order to put to

silence those who maligned his nation, Sir Thomas Urquhart takes up a

less pleasing topic--that of contemporary politics. In the plainest and

most forcible manner he repudiates the whole policy of the dominant

party in Scotland, and declares that a true Royalist or Malignant like

himself had much more in common with an Independent, than either of them

had with a Presbyterian; and he enlarges upon the turbulent disloyalty

with which so many of the last-named party had, in his opinion,

conducted themselves towards their sovereigns since Queen Mary's time,

evidently in forgetfulness for the moment that his newly-found friends,

the Independents, had executed Charles I. and abolished monarchy.

His account of the mode in which the Presbyterian or "Consistorian"

party were in the habit of treating their kings is very amusing. "Of a

king," he says, "they onely make use for their own ends, and so they

will of any other supreme magistracie that is not of their own erection.

Their kings are but as the kings of Lacedemon, whom the Ephors presumed

to fine for any small offence; or as the puppy [puppet] kings, which,

after children have trimmed with bits of taffata, and ends of silver

lace, and set them upon wainscoat cupboards besides marmalade and

sugar-cakes, are often times disposed of, even by those that did pretend

so much respect unto them, for a two-peny custard, a pound of figs, or

mess of cream. Verily, I think they make use of kings in their

Consistorian State, as we do of card kings in playing at the hundred;

any one whereof, if there be appearance of a better game without him,

and that the exchange of him for another incoming card is like to

conduce more for drawing of the stake, is by good gamesters without any

ceremony discarded: or as the French on the Epiphany-day use their _Roy

de la Febre_, or king of the bean; whom, after they have honoured with

drinking of his health, and shouting _Le Roy boit, le Roy boit_, they

make pay for all the reckoning; not leaving him sometimes one peny,

rather then [than] that the exorbitancie of their debosh should not be

satisfied to the full. They may be likewise said to use their king as

the players at nine-pins do the middle kyle, which they call the king;

at whose fall alone they aim, the sooner to obtain the gaining of their

prize; or as about Christmas we do the King of Misrule, whom we invest

with that title to no other end but to countenance the bacchanalian

riots and preposterous disorders of the family where he is installed.

The truth of all this appears by their demeanour to Charles the Second,

whom they crowned their king at Sterlin, and who, though he be for

comeliness of person, valour, affability, mercy, piety, closeness of

counsel, veracity, foresight, knowledge, and other vertues both moral

and intellectual, in nothing inferior to any of his hundred and ten

predecessors, had nevertheless no more rule in effect over the

Presbyterian Senate of Scotland, then [than] any of the six foresaid

mock-kings had above those by whom they were dignified with the

splendour of royal pomp."[217]

The passage in _The Jewel_ which tells of the faults of the clergy, as

illustrated by the conduct of the ministers of the parishes of which Sir

Thomas was patron, has already been given in these pages, and therefore

need not be repeated here; but room must be found for the paragraph in

which he denounces those who by their covetousness had cast a slur upon

the Scottish name. The art of writing such English perished with him,

its inventor; and one cannot be too thankful for such a passage as the

following. "Another thing there is," he says, "that fixeth a grievous

scandal upon that nation in matter of philargyrie, or love of money, and

it is this: There hath been in London, and repairing to it, for these

many years together, a knot of Scotish bankers, collybists, or

coine-coursers, of traffickers in merchandise to and againe, and of men

of other professions, who by hook and crook, _fas et nefas_, slight and

might, (all being as fish their net could catch), having feathered their

nests to some purpose, look so idolatrously upon their Dagon of wealth,

and so closely, (like the earth's dull center), hug all unto themselves,

that for no respect of vertue, honour, kinred, patriotism, or whatever

else, (be it never so recommendable), will they depart from so much as

one single peny, whose emission doth not, without any hazard of loss, in

a very short time superlucrate beyond all conscience an additionall

increase to the heap of that stock which they so much adore; which

churlish and tenacious humor hath made many that were not acquainted

with any else of that country, to imagine all their compatriots infected

with the same leprosie of a wretched peevishness, whereof those

_quomodocunquizing_ clusterfists and rapacious varlets have given of

late such cannibal-like proofs, by their inhumanity and obdurate

carriage towards some, (whose shoe-strings they are not worthy to unty),

that were it not that a more able pen then [than] mine will assuredly

not faile to jerk them on all sides, in case, by their better demeanour

for the future, they endeavour not to wipe off the blot wherewith their

native country, by their sordid avarice and miserable baseness, hath

been so foully stained, I would at this very instant blaze them out in

their names and surnames, notwithstanding the vizard of Presbyterian

zeal wherewith they maske themselves, that like so many wolves, foxes,

or Athenian Timons, they might in all times coming be debarred the

benefit of any honest conversation."[218]

After suggesting a number of ways in which the tone of society in

Scotland might be raised and sweetened--one of which is the

establishment of "a free schoole and standing library in every

parish"[219]--Sir Thomas proceeds to argue in a very sensible and

convincing manner for complete union between Scotland and England. The

subject is introduced by lengthy quotations from speeches by Bacon,

delivered by him in Parliament as far back as the year 1608, in which

the advantages of such an arrangement are set forth.

The style of our author is seen at its worst in the peroration to _The

Jewel_, in which he apologizes for the comparative simplicity, if not

baldness, by which, in the opinion of some, it might be thought to be

characterised. "I could truly," he says, "have enlarged this discourse

with a choicer variety of phrase, and made it overflow the field of the

reader's understanding, with an inundation of greater eloquence; and

that one way, tropologetically, by metonymical, ironical, metaphorical,

and synecdochical instruments of elocution, in all their several kinds,

artificially affected, according to the nature of the subject, with

emphatical expressions in things of great concernment, with

catachrestical in matters of meaner moment; attended on each side

respectively with an epiplectick and exegetick modification; with

hyperbolical, either epitatically or hypocoristically, as the purpose

required to be elated or extenuated, with qualifying metaphors, and

accompanied by apostrophes; and lastly, with allegories of all sorts,

whether apologal, affabulatory, parabolary, ænigmatick, or paræmial. And

on the other part, schematologetically adorning the proposed theam with

the most especial and chief flowers of the garden of rhetorick, and

omitting no figure either of diction or sentence, that might contribute

to the ear's enchantment, or perswasion of the hearer. I could have

introduced, in case of obscurity, synonymal, exargastick, and

palilogetick elucidations; for sweetness of phrase, antimetathetick

commutations of epithets; for the vehement excitation of a matter,

exclamation in the front, and epiphonemas in the reer. I could have

used, for the promptlier stirring up of passion, apostrophal and

prosopopoeiel diversions; and, for the appeasing and settling of them,

some epanorthotick revocations, and aposiopetick restraines. I could

have inserted dialogismes, displaying their interrogatory part with

communicatively pysmatick and sustentative flourishes; or proleptically,

with the refutative schemes of anticipation and subjection, and that

part which concerns the responsory, with the figures of permission and

concession. Speeches extending a matter beyond what it is, auxetically,

digressively, transitiously, by ratiocination, ætiology, circumlocution,

and other wayes, I could have made use of; as likewise with words

diminishing the worth of a thing, tapinotically, periphrastically, by

rejection, translation, and other meanes, I could have served

myself."[220]

He goes on for a long time in this strain, and is at pains to explain

that, if the work had been written in this more elaborate manner, it

would not necessarily have been found tedious even by young ladies. "I

could have presented it to the imagination," he says, "in so spruce a

garb, that spirits blest with leisure, and free from the urgency of

serious employments, would happily have bestowed as liberally some few

houres thereon as on the perusal of a new-coined romance, or strange

history of love adventures. For although the figures and tropes above

rehearsed seem in their _actu signato_, (as they signifie meer notional

circumstances, affections, adjuncts, and dependencies on words), to be a

little pedantical, and to the smooth touch of a delicate ear somewhat

harsh and scabrous, yet in their exerced act, (as they suppone for

things reduplicatively as things in the first apprehension of the minde,

by them signified), I could, even in far abstruser purposes, have so

fitly adjusted them with apt and proper termes, and with such

perspicuity couched them, as would have been suitable to the capacities

of courtiers and young ladies,[221] whose tender hearing, for the most

part, being more taken with the insinuating harmony of a well-concerted

period, in its isocoletick and parisonal members, then [than] with the

never-so-pithy a fancy of a learned subject, destitute of the

illustriousness of so pathetick ornaments, will sooner convey perswasion

to the interior faculties from the ravishing assault of a

well-disciplined diction, in a parade of curiously-mustered words in

their several ranks and files then [than] by the vigour and fierceness

of never so many powerful squadrons of a promiscuously-digested

elocution into bare logical arguments; for the sweetness of their

disposition is more easily gained by undermining passion then [than]

storming reason, and by the musick and symmetry of a descourse in its

external appurtenances, then [than] by all the puissance imaginary of

the ditty or purpose disclosed by it."[222]

The last of Sir Thomas Urquhart's original works was his

"LOGOPANDECTEISION, or an INTRODUCTION TO THE UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE," a

portion of which, as already mentioned, had been embedded in the

conglomerate mass of _The Jewel_. The idea of a universal language was

not originated by Urquhart, for it is said that something of the kind

had been planned a generation earlier by the celebrated William Bedell

(1570-1642), the Bishop of Kilmore and Ardagh, who is better known for

promoting the translation of the Bible into the Irish tongue. We are

told by Burnet, who wrote his life, that he had in his diocese a

clergyman named Johnston, a man of ability, but, unfortunately, of

"mercurial wit." In order to give him adequate employment, and to keep

him, we suppose, out of mischief, Bedell planned out a scheme for a

universal character, which should be understood by all nations as

readily as the Arabic numerals or the figures in geometry, and started

Johnston upon the task of completing it. He made, we are told,

considerable progress with the scheme, but his labours were interrupted,

and the results of them destroyed, by the frightful rebellion of 1641.

The _Logopandecteision_[223] is divided into six books, which bear names

of the remarkable kind which seem to come so readily to Urquhart's

tongue, and are so hard to be compassed by the tongues of others. The

"Epistle Dedicatorie" is an elaborate piece of writing, and is animated

by considerable bitterness of spirit. It is addressed to Nobody--the

person who has assisted him in his labours, pitied him in his sorrows,

and relieved him in his penury. It is only the first book--entitled

"Neaudethaumata, or Wonders of the New Speech"--which makes a pretence

of dealing with the professed subject of the volume, and of laying the

great scheme before the reader. Much to the gratification of the

judicious student of the work, Urquhart rambles off in the remaining

books into autobiographical details, from which we have already gleaned

heavily in the earlier chapters of this volume, and the only connexion

between them and the Universal Language is that they show the

difficulties which prevented the author from carrying out his plan. The

sources from which these difficulties arose are vaguely indicated in the

titles of the books: thus, the second is called "Chrestasebeia, or

Impious Dealing of Creditors"; the third, "Cleronomaporia, or the

Intricacy of a Distressed Successor or Apparent Heir"; the fourth,

"Chryseomystes, or the Covetous Preacher"; and the fifth,

"Neleodicastes, or the Pitiless Judge." While the sixth book is entitled

"Philoponauxesis, or Furtherance of Industry," and tells of the

marvellous benefits which would accrue to all branches of trade,

manufacture, and industry in Scotland, if the writer's demands were

granted, and he were at liberty to carry out the multitudinous schemes

with which his mind was filled. The volume concludes with requests or

"proquiritations" from thirty-two distinct petitioners, who modestly

conceal themselves from public notice under the shelter of the initial

letters of their names, that the State would, for the various weighty

reasons which they allege, grant the desire of Sir Thomas to be set

free, and to be established in possession of the estates and honours

which his family had enjoyed from time immemorial. This section of the

work suggests failure in ingenuity on the part of the author, for few

persons above the condition of idiocy could surely be found capable of

believing that the reasons and initials alike were anything else than

the concoction of Sir Thomas himself.

Very slight indeed can be the notice which we are able to give of the

proposed Universal Language, the description of which, as set forth in

the early part of the _Logopandecteision_, is more like an incoherent

dream than anything else. There is no evidence that Sir Thomas Urquhart

ever really made a grammar or vocabulary of the new language. Indeed, he

writes about it in such a manner as to lead one to think that he had

made no way in the real working out of the scheme, but merely dreamed of

what he was going to do. In the new tongue which was to supersede all

others there were to be twelve parts of speech, all words would have at

least ten synonyms, nouns and pronouns would have eleven cases and four

numbers--singular, dual, plural, and redual--and verbs would have four

voices, seven moods, and eleven tenses. "In this tongue," says the

author, "there are eleven genders,[224] wherein," he truthfully adds,

"it exceedeth all other languages." "Every word in this language," we

are told, "signifieth as well backward as forward, and however you

invert the letters, still shall you fall upon significant words, whereby

a wonderful facility is obtained in making of anagrams.... Of all

languages, this is the most compendious in complement, and consequently

fittest for courtiers and ladies.... As its interjections are more

numerous, so are they more emphatical in their respective expression of

passions, then [than] that part of speech is in any other language

whatsoever."[225] And finally Sir Thomas vouches for its conciseness in

a hyperbole which it would be difficult to excel. "This language," he

says, "affordeth so concise words for numbering, that the number for

setting down, whereof would require in vulgar arithmetic more figures in

a row then [than] there might be grains of sand containable from the

center of the earth to the highest heavens, is in it expressed by two

letters."[226] A considerable revenue might be secured if the rule found

at the end of some of Grimm's _Household Tales_ were applied to this

statement, and strictly enforced: "Whosoever does not believe this must

pay a thaler." In a very innocent manner our author excuses himself for

the extravagant praise he has poured out upon his own invention. "Why it

is," he exclaims, "I should extoll the worth thereof, without the

jeopardy of vaine glory, the reason is clear and evident, being

necessitated ... to merchandise it for the redintegrating of an ancient

family, it needeth not be thought strange, that in some measure I

descend to the fashion of the shop-keepers, who, to scrue up the buyer

to the higher price, will tell them no better can be had for mony, 'tis

the choicest ware in England, and if any can match it, he shall have it

for nought.... [And so] I went on in my laudatives, to procure the

greater longing, that an ardent desire might stir up an emacity [a

propensity to buy], to the furtherance of my proposed end." One is

obliged sadly to assent to his further statement about such

conduct--"whereof ... there wanteth not store of presidents

[precedents]."[227]

Hugh Miller, animated by the patriotic zeal which prompts one North

Briton to stand by another, and with the desire to make out the best

case possible for one who was not only a fellow-countryman, but also a

fellow-townsman, speaks in high terms of Urquhart's inventive powers as

displayed in the _Logopandecteision_. "The new chemical vocabulary," he

says, "with all its philosophical ingenuity, is constructed on

principles exactly similar to those which he divulged more than a

hundred years prior to its invention, in the preface to his Universal

Language."[228] This is a statement which it is rather difficult to

understand. The only indication of the nature of the new tongue which we

can glean from Sir Thomas's description of it, is that every letter of

every word in it would have a meaning, so that when anyone who knew the

principles of the language heard a word for the first time, he would

understand it.[229] Now, of course, it is true that anyone who knows the

principle of the nomenclature of salts, to which, we suppose, Hugh

Miller refers, can tell a good deal about a salt from the name of it,

say, nitrate of potassium, KNO_{3}, but it would be impossible to invent

a systematic nomenclature of which this would not be true.

The same author is also very much impressed by the fact that the new

language was to contain the dual, and regards this, on Lord Monboddo's

authority, as a proof of philosophical acumen on the part of the

inventor. He does not take any notice of the "redual," which the

language was also to contain, and which might have been taken as an

indication of double-distilled wisdom. Lord Monboddo (1714-1799) says of

the Greek language that if there "were nothing else to convince him of

its being a work of philosophers and grammarians, its dual number would

of itself be sufficient; for as certainly as the principles of body are

the point, the line, and the surface, the principles of number are the

monad and the duad, though philosophers only are aware of the fact." The

idea that this venerated instrument for the expression or concealment of

thought was the concoction of a committee of primitive sages, and that

they deliberately invented the dual, and added it as another spike to

the _chevaux-de-frise_ through which our young people, of both sexes,

have to struggle[230] on their way to the Temple of Learning, is truly

revolting. One would not like to think that the ancient Greeks were

quite so malicious as to do a thing like that. It is more probably the

case that, like other Aryans, they received the dual as part of the

inheritance of the past, handed down to them, and retained it; while in

some of the cognate languages[231] it was gradually rubbed off, very

much in the same way as Lord Monboddo's men lost their tails, when they

gave up their arboreal habits, and betook themselves to sedentary

occupations.

FOOTNOTES:

[199] Its title-page is as follows:--EKSKYBALAURON: Or, The Discovery of

A MOST EXQUISITE JEWEL, more precious then [than] DIAMONDS inchased in

Gold, the like whereof was never seen in any age; found in the kennel of

_Worcester_-streets, the day after the Fight, and six before the

Autumnal Equinox, _anno_ 1651. Serving in this place, To Frontal a

VINDICATION of the honour of SCOTLAND, from that Infamy, whereinto the

Rigid _Presbyterian party_ of that Nation, out of their Covetousness and

ambition, most dissembledly hath involved it. _Distichon ad Librum

sequitur, quo tres ter adæquant Musarum numerum, casus et articuli._

_voc._ _nom._ 1 _abl._ 2 _abl._ _dat._

O thou'rt a Book in truth with love to many,

3 _abl._ 4 _abl. acc._ _gen._

Done by and for the free'st spoke Scot of any.

_Efficiens et finis sunt sibi invicem causæ._ LONDON, Printed by Ja:

Cottrel; and are to be sold by _Rich. Buddeley_, at the

Middle-Temple-Gate. 1652.

[200] EKSKYBALAURON is supposed to be the Greek for "_Gold out of the

dirt_." Dr Irving, the author of a very carefully-written memoir of Sir

Thomas Urquhart, in his _Lives of Scottish Writers_, vol. ii., is a

little puzzled by this extraordinary name. The latter part of it was, he

thought, perhaps connected with aurion--"to-morrow"--in allusion to the

fact that this "exquisite Jewel" was taken out of the kennel _the

morrow_ after the battle of Worcester. But the word is evidently

auron--the Lat. _aurum_, "gold." In the "Postilla" to the Pedigree of

the Urquharts, our author says that "the shire of Cromartie ... hath the

names of its towns, villages, hamlets, dwellings, promontories,

hillocks, temples, dens, groves, fountains, rivers, pools, lakes, stone

heaps, akers, and so forth, of pure and perfect Greek." We need not be

surprised that Sir Thomas's Greek has more affinity with the vernacular

form of the language current in the Cromartie of his time than with the

Attic of the age of Pericles,

"_For Greke of Athenes was to him unknowé._"

Probably in this northern dialect of the Greek tongue ahyron was used

instead of the more classical chrusost. Another indication of the

difference between the Cromartian and Attic forms of speech is given by

Sir Thomas in the same treatise in the name Alexhandêr, which Thucydides

would have written Alhexandrost.

[201] Sir Egerton Brydges, Bart., an author who combines a great many of

the peculiarities of the two Sir Thomas Urquharts, the father and the

son, and who has recorded his experiences in an _Autobiography_, lays

stress in like manner upon this quality of speed in composition. Thus he

says of his little novel, _Mary de Clifford_ (published in 1792), "it

was written with a fervent rapidity, which no one seems to

believe;--begun in October, 1791, and the sheets sent to the press by

the post, as fast as they were scribbled." The passage in which he

refers to the vexations to which he had been subjected is worth quoting,

on account of its similarity to our Sir Thomas's story. "I have

suffered," he says, "a hundred times more disappointments, and crosses,

and insults, and wrongs, and deprivations, than Chatterton, yet my

spirit, though bent and sunk, was never broken. I am calm and defiant,

though not hopeful, in proportion as the storm presses me;--and what

trials have I not undergone? I do not mean to relate all these trials;

it would involve the conduct of obscure individuals, many of whom are

still living" (_Autobiography_, pp. 8, 9).

[202] _Works_, p. 181.

[203] _I.e._ at such an extremity liable to be forfeited to the

victorious soldier.

[204] _Works_, pp. 189, 190.

[205] Appendix II. p. 215.

[206] "This part is written in a euphuistic, rhapsodical vein, and

affords an indication of the saturation of Urquhart's mind with the

style of Rabelais. It might almost be pieced together from the meeting

of Pantagruel with the Limousin scholar, the discomfiture of Thaumast by

Panurge, and the meeting of Pantegruel and his party with Queen

Entelechia" (W. F. Smith's Introduction to _Rabelais_).

[207] Dr Kippis, the editor of the _Biographia Britannica, or Lives of

the Most Eminent Persons who have Flourished in Great Britain and

Ireland_ (1789), had a bad time in writing the notice of Crichton that

appears in it. He says that he entered upon the task with diffidence,

and even with anxiety. On the one hand, he was desirous not to detract

from Crichton's real merit, and, on the other, he wished to form a just

estimate of the truth of the facts which are recorded concerning him.

Part of his perturbation of mind was due to the indignation which he

felt towards our author, whose narrative of Crichton's adventures he

regarded as utterly untrustworthy. At an early stage in the article he

remarks: "And here it must be observed that no credit can be granted to

any facts which depend upon the sole authority of Sir Thomas

Urquhart.... I must declare my full persuasion that Sir Thomas Urquhart

is an author whose testimony to facts is totally unworthy of regard; and

it is surprising that a perusal of his works does not strike every mind

with this conviction. His productions are so inexpressibly absurd and

extravagant, that the only rational judgment which can be pronounced

concerning him is, that he was little, if at all, better than a madman.

To the character of his having been a madman must be added that of his

being a liar. Severe as this term may be thought, I apprehend that a

diligent examination of the treatise which contains the memorials

concerning Crichton would show that it is strictly true." The censure

uttered by Dr Kippis _is_ very severe, but some excuse for him is easily

found. He was anxious to make his dictionary of biography a mine of

facts on which the public could rely with absolute confidence; and he

saw before him the danger of quoting as an authority a writer like

Urquhart, who so palpably elongated facts and embroidered them with

fancies. His opinion with regard to the _Pedigree_ of the Urquharts is

given on p. 144.

[208] _The Scot Abroad_, p. 256. In the _Adventurer_, No. 81, Dr Johnson

has reproduced Sir Thomas Urquhart's narrative of the career of

Crichton, but has toned down its glowing colours.

[209] The reader will remember that this simply meant the "Wonderful

Crichton"--this use of the word "admire" being now archaic.

[210] The passage in Rabelais is as follows:--"Pantagruel ... would one

day make trial of his knowledge. Thereupon in all the Carrefours, that

is, throughout all the foure quarters, streets and corners of the city,

he set up Conclusions to the number of nine thousand seven hundred sixty

and foure,[A] in all manner of learning, touching in them the hardest

doubts that are in any science. And first of all, in the

Fodder-street[B] he held disputes against all the Regents or Fellowes of

Colledges, Artists or Masters of Arts, and Oratours, and did so

gallantly, that he overthrew them, and set them all upon their tailes.

He went afterwards to the Sorboune, where he maintained argument against

all the Theologians or Divines, for the space of six weeks, from foure a

clock in the morning until six in the evening, except an interval of two

houres to refresh themselves, and take their repast. And at this were

present the greatest part of the Lords of the Court, the Masters of

Requests, Presidents, Counsellors, those of the Accompts, Secretaries,

Advocates, and others: as also the Sheriffes of the said town, with the

Physicians and Professors of the Canon-Law. Amongst which it is to be

remarked, that the greatest part were stubborn jades, and in their

opinions obstinate; but he took such course with them, that, for all

their ergo's and fallacies, he put their backs to the wall, gravelled

them in the deepest questions, and made it visibly appear to the world,

that, compared to him, they were but monkies, and a knot of mufled

calves. Whereupon everybody began to keep a bustling noise, and talk of

his so marvellous knowledge, through all degrees of persons in both

sexes, even to the very laundresses, brokers, rostmeat-sellers,

penknife-makers, and others, who, when he past along in the street,

would say, This is he! in which he took delight, as Demosthenes the

prince of Greek oratours did when an old crouching wife, pointing at him

with her fingers, said, That is the man"[C] (ii. chap. 10).

[A] Pico della Mirandola in the winter of 1486-87 offered to maintain at

Rome 900 theses _de omni scitili_ (W. F. S.).

[B] _Rue de la Feurre_ (near the Place Maubert) was the street in Paris

where the poorer students used to lodge. It got its name because straw

served them for beds and furniture. Dante says in _Par._ x. 137:

"Essa è la luce eterua di Sigieri,

Che, leggendo nel vico degli strami,

Sillogizzo invidiosi veri."

(_Ibid._)

[C] Cf. "At pulchrum est, digito monstrari, et dicier: Hic est" (_Pers._

i. 28). (_Ibid._)

[211] He says in reference to the whole history of Crichton: "The verity

of this story I have here related, concerning this incomparable

Crichton, may be certified by above two thousand men yet living, who

have known him" (_Works_, p. 244). There can scarcely have been so many,

unless centenarians were much commoner then than now.

[212] "Thou didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my

Dolphin-chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, upon Wednesday

in Wheeson week, when the prince broke thy head for liking his father to

a singing-man of Windsor; thou didst swear to me then, as I was washing

thy wound, to marry me and make me my lady thy wife. Canst thou deny it?

Did not good-wife Keech, the butcher's wife, come in then and call me

gossip Quickly? coming in to borrow a mess of vinegar; telling us she

had a good dish of prawns; whereby thou didst desire to eat some;

whereby I told thee they were ill for a green wound! And didst thou not,

when she was gone down stairs, desire me to be no more so familiarity

with such poor people; saying that ere long they should call me madam?

And didst thou not kiss me, and bid me fetch thee thirty shillings? I

put thee now to thy book-oath: deny it, if thou canst" (_2 Henry IV._

II. i.).

[213] _Works_, p. 234.

[214] _Ibid._ p. 243.

[215] The italics are ours.

[216] _Works_, p. 224. At one of Charles Lamb's Wednesday evenings in

Mitre Court Building, Hazlitt tells us, "the name of the Admirable

Crichton was suddenly started as a splendid example of _waste_ talents,

so different from the generality of his countrymen." A North Briton

present declared himself descended from that prodigy of learning and

accomplishment, and said he had family plate in his possession as

vouchers for the fact, with the initials engraved upon them of A.

C.--"Admirable Crichton!" A phrenological report upon this gentleman by

Charles Lamb would have enlarged "the public stock of harmless

pleasure."

[217] _Works_, p. 277. The charity which "believeth all things and

hopeth all things," or the credulity which persuades itself of the truth

of the things which it wishes to believe, is manifest in Sir Thomas

Urquhart's estimate of the character of Charles II. Less charitable or

more impartial critics are probably inclined to the opinion that the

existence in that sovereign of a number of the above-mentioned virtues

was as mythical as that of a good many of his "hundred and ten

predecessors." So far as "comeliness" is concerned, Charles II. at a

later period had a much humbler view of the matter than Sir Thomas here

expresses. For he complained that when they wished to represent a

villain on the stage they made up a figure somewhat like himself. See

Cibber's _Apology_, p. 111.

[218] _Works_, p. 212.

[219] His unhappy prejudices against the Presbyterian clergy are

irrepressible, for immediately after suggesting "a standing library in

custody of the minister of the parish," he adds, "with this proviso,

that none of the books should be embezeled by him or any of his

successors" (_Works_, p. 282).

[220] We have reason to be thankful to Sir Thomas for his kindness in

refraining from the style of composition which he here indicates, for we

can scarcely credit his assurance that the results would have been less

terrifying than the description of the processes by which they would

have been reached. There is no need for an apology, for he has really

done pretty well as it is. Mr Ruskin had once a vision of ten thousand

school-inspectors assembled on Cader Idris. What horror would seize such

a company, if they were treated as a class in elementary English, and

the above passage were read out as an exercise in dictation! Nay, it is

to be feared that even the more august assembly in Dover House, the

Lords of Education themselves, would be panic-stricken at such a task.

Only Macaulay's "schoolboy" would probably be found to enter upon it

with unblenched countenance, and to accomplish it successfully.

[221] This reminds us of Bottom the weaver. "I will roar that I will do

any man's heart good to hear me.... [Yet not to frighten the ladies.] I

will aggravate my voice so that I will roar you as gently as any sucking

dove: I will roar you an 'twere any nightingale" (_Midsummer-Night's

Dream_, I. ii.).

[222] _Works_, pp. 292, 293.

[223] _Logopandecteision_, or an INTRODUCTION to the UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE.

Digested into these Six several Books, Neaudethaumata, Chrestasebeia,

Cleronomaporia, Chryseomystes, Neleodicastes, and Philoponauxesis. By

Sir Thomas Urquhart of _Cromartie_, Knight. Now lately contrived and

published, both for his own utilie, and that of all pregnant and

ingenious Spirits. _Credere quaerenti nonne haic justissima res est? Qui

non plura cupit, quam ratio ipsa jubet._ _Englished thus_, To grant him

his demands, were it not just? Who craves no more, then [than] reason

says he must. _London._ Printed, and are to be sold by _Giles Calvert_

at the _Black Spread Eagle_ at the west-end of _Pauls_; and by _Richard

Tomlins_ at the Sun and Bible near Pye-corner. 1653.

[224] Eleven genders seem nine more than are necessary, and the use of

such a large number suggests to one that in Sir Thomas's Universal

Language the distinctions in question were to receive an undue amount of

attention. At the same time, fault has been found with our English

language for being somewhat defective in accentuating these

distinctions; and an attempt to correct this shortcoming, to a certain

extent, has been made by Southey in _The Doctor_. He proposed to

anglicise the orthography of the female garment, "which is indeed the

sister to the shirt," and then to utilise the hint offered in its new

form: thus _Hemise_ and _Shemise_. In letter-writing every person knows

that male and female letters have a distinct character; they should

therefore, he thought, be generally distinguished thus, _Hepistle_ and

_Shepistle_. And as there is the same marked difference in the writing

of the two sexes, he proposed _Penmanship_ and _Penwomanship_. Erroneous

opinions in religion being promulgated in this country by women as well

as men, the teachers of such false doctrine may be divided into

_Heresiarchs_ and _Sheresiarchs_, so that we should speak of the

_Heresy_ of the Quakers and the _Sheresy_ of Joanna Southcote's people.

The troublesome affection of the diaphragm, which every one has

experienced, is, upon the same principle, to be called, according to the

sex of the patient, _Hecups_, or _Shecups_, which, upon the principle of

making our language truly British, is better than the more classical

form of _Hiccups_ and _Hæcups_. In its objective use the word becomes

Hiscups or Hercups; and in like manner Histerics should be altered into

Herterics, the complaint never being masculine. It is perhaps a little

surprising that this suggestion should have lain before the British

public for half a century, and have been left unutilised.

[225] _Works_, pp. 316-318.

[226] _Works_, pp. 316-318.

[227] _Ibid._ p. 332.

[228] _Scenes and Legends_, chap. vii.

[229] A somewhat similar project was described in the Marquis of

Worcester's _Century of the Names and Scantling of ... Inventions_

(1663), in which the steam-engine is anticipated. The passage is as

follows:--"32. How to compose an universal character, methodical, and

easie to be written, yet intelligible in any language; so that if an

Englishman write it in English, a Frenchman, Italian, Spaniard, Irish,

Welsh, being scholars, yea, Grecian or Hebritian, shall as perfectly

understand it in their owne Tongue, as if they were perfect English,

distinguishing the Verbs from the Nouns, the Numbers, Tenses, Cases as

properly expressed in their own Language as it was written in English."

A writer in _Blackwood's Magazine_ in 1820 affirms that he has good

reasons for believing that the above volume was really by Sir Thomas

Urquhart, and was dishonestly put forth as the work of the Marquis of

Worcester. He does not give us any of his reasons. The style of the

little volume bears no resemblance to that of our author, and this fact

is of itself almost conclusive proof that Sir Thomas Urquhart had

nothing to do with it. The Scottish knight could scarcely open his lips

without revealing his identity. It is rather difficult to believe, too,

that a manuscript lost by Sir Thomas in the streets of Worcester should

have been picked up by the Marquis of Worcester. The coincidence would

be a very extraordinary one.

[230] Hear Heine's angry allusions to his early scholastic experiences,

in which he suggests another and less honourable origin of the Greek

tongue: "Vom Griechischen will ich gar nicht sprechen--ich ärgere mich

sonst zu viel. Die Mönche im Mittelalter hatten so ganz Unrecht nicht,

wenn sie behaupteten, dass das Griechische eine Erfindung des Teufels

sei" (_Das Buch Le Grand_, vii.).

[231] Sanskrit, Old Persian, Lithuanian, and old Slavonic have the dual

both in declension and conjugation, and in the first of these it is used

much more frequently than in Greek. Faint traces of it in declension are

to be found in Teutonic speech, though in conjugation it is only in the

Gothic that the dual is used. In old Gaelic the dual is a regular

feature of declension, but not of conjugation.

CHAPTER VII

TRANSLATION OF RABELAIS

The foundation on which Sir Thomas Urquhart's literary fame securely

rests is his translation into English of the first three books of the

works of Rabelais. Of these the first and second appeared in two

separate volumes in the year 1653--exactly a century after the death of

the great French satirist--and the third was published by Pierre Antoine

Motteux in 1693, long after Sir Thomas's own death.[232]

The difficulty, singularity, and obscurity of the writings of Rabelais

had probably been hindrances in the way of their being presented to the

English public in their own tongue; for, though the register of the

Stationers' Company preserves a record of two attempts at translation,

these seem to have been but fragmentary, and to have dropped still-born

from the press. The works themselves are not known to be extant, and

nothing more than the bare name of them survives.

The difficulties which lie in the way of the ordinary reader who wishes

to become acquainted with the works of Rabelais are very

considerable.[233] The fantastical style of the satirist, his countless

allusions to contemporary persons and events, his out-of-the-way

learning, the care with which he conceals at such length the seriousness

of his purpose, and the incredible grossness of manners which so often

disfigures his pages, are obstacles which can with difficulty be

surmounted. The last-mentioned characteristic is, indeed, a grave and

ingrained fault, which must for ever be a slur upon the writer's fame.

Yet we may say of him what Don Pedro says of Benedick, "The man doth

fear God howsoever it seems not in him by some large jests he will

make"; or what Mrs Blower in _St Ronan's Well_ says of her deceased

husband, "He was a merry man, but he had the root of the matter in him

for a' his light way of speaking." Coleridge--"the brother," according

to Mr Birrell, "whose praise is throughout all the churches"--speaks of

Rabelais in very high terms indeed; "Beyond a doubt," he says, "he was

among the deepest, as well as boldest thinkers of his age. His

buffoonery was not merely Brutus' rough stick, which contained a rod of

gold: it was necessary as an amulet against the monks and legates.[234]

Never was there a more plausible, and seldom, I am persuaded, a less

appropriate line than the thousand times quoted

'Rabelais laughing in his easy chair'

of Mr Pope. The caricature of his filth and zanyism show how fully he

both knew and felt the danger in which he stood. I could write a

treatise in praise of the moral elevation of Rabelais' work, which would

make the church stare and the conventicle groan,[235] and yet would be

truth, and nothing but the truth. I class Rabelais with the great

creative minds of the world, Shakespeare, Dante, Cervantes, etc."

François Rabelais was born in Touraine, according to the date usually

given, and which there is no reason to question, in the same year as

Luther and Raphael, A.D. 1483, and died in Paris in 1553. His father had

a small estate, and was an apothecary (or, as some say, a tavern-keeper)

in the town of Chinon, at the foot of the castle where, three centuries

before, our Henry II. had died, and whither, a little more than fifty

years before François was born, Joan of Arc had come with promises of

supernatural aid to Charles VII. He was the youngest of five sons, and,

as was often the case in those days, was provided for by being made a

monk, while the other members of the family divided amongst them the

paternal estate. In one passage in his works he speaks of mothers who

"cannot bear their children nor brook them in their houses nine, nay

often not seven years, but by putting a shirt over their robe, and by

cutting a few hairs on the top of their head ... they transform them

into birds," _i.e._, get rid of them as soon as possible, and thrust

them into monasteries. This seems to have been his own sad fate.

In course of time, after the schoolboy period of his life was past, he

entered the order of Franciscan monks at the convent of

Fontenay-le-Comte in Poitou, and took holy orders; and it was here,

during the next fifteen years (1509-1524), that he devoted himself to

the acquisition of everything in the shape of literature or learning,

and laid the foundation of the astonishing erudition which his works

display. His long residence in the monastery had inspired Rabelais with

a deep hatred of monasticism and monks, and, after being allowed to

exchange the Franciscan for the Benedictine order, he laid down the

regular habit and took that of a secular priest, and left the convent

without the sanction of his superior--a breach of ecclesiastical

discipline which exposed him to severe censure. After wandering hither

and thither in the pursuit of medical knowledge, he entered the

University of Montpellier, graduated as a physician, and practised there

with credit and success. After being Hospital Physician at Lyons, he

spent some time in Rome, as a medical attendant upon Jean du Bellay,

Bishop of Paris. While here he succeeded in making his peace with the

Church, and by a papal Bull (17th January 1536) was allowed to return to

the Benedictine order and to practise physic according to canonical

rules, _i.e._, to charge no fees and to use neither fire nor knife. This

release from ecclesiastical disabilities allowed him to be appointed to

a place in the abbey of St Maur-des-Fosses, near Paris. After another

period of exile and wandering he was nominated curé of Meudon, an office

which he resigned after two years. Three months afterwards he died in

Paris (9th April, 1553), and was buried in the cemetery of the parish of

St Paul's.

The publication of the satirical writings of Rabelais was spread over a

long series of years, from 1532 or 1533, when the first installment, in

his _Gargantua_, was brought out, down to 1564, eleven years after his

death, when the fifth and concluding book of his _Pantagruel_ was issued

in its entirety. The main object of his satire was what used to be

called "the intolerance, superstition, and disgusting follies and vices

of the Romish Church," but, incidentally, pretenders to knowledge of

every kind come under his lash. For when imposture, folly, and humbug

grow too rank and noisome, there arise, it can scarcely be by accident,

men like Lucian, Rabelais, and Voltaire, whose calling it is to cut them

down. That theirs is an ill-requited office is sufficiently plain from

the odium which, in spite of their beneficent labours, is often

associated with their names. "[Hast thou] only a torch for burning, no

hammer for building?" says the somewhat wearisome Herr Teufelsdröckh to

the last named of these satirists, "take our thanks, then, and--thyself

away."[236] Yet the torch for burning is as necessary as the hammer for

building, if the site for the Temple of Truth is to be prepared. It may

well be that burning down and rooting up are needed before building can

be begun, and some of those who have endeavoured to benefit mankind

have felt themselves called to the one sort of work rather than to the

other.

The form which Rabelais chooses for the frame-work of his satire is the

burlesque adventures of the giant Gargantua, of whom many legends were

current in Touraine, and of his son Pantagruel, sometimes spoken of as

also a giant, and at others as a wise and virtuous prince of ordinary

proportions. Along with the strange, tangled, and chaotic story of their

exploits the writer from time to time enunciates admirable ideas, which

must have seemed revolutionary to his contemporaries, and some of which

even we have not yet realised.

The translation of Rabelais by Sir Thomas Urquhart is his great literary

achievement. "It is impossible," says Tytler, "to look into it without

admiring the air of ease, freshness, and originality which the

translator has so happily communicated to his performance. All those

singular qualifications which unfitted Urquhart to succeed in serious

composition--his extravagance, his drollery (?), his unbridled

imagination, his burlesque and endless epithets--are in the task of

translating Rabelais transplanted into their true field of action, and

revel through his pages with a licence and buoyancy which is quite

unbridled, yet quite allowable. Indeed, Urquhart and Rabelais appear, in

many points, to have been congenial spirits, and the translator seems to

have been born for his author."[237]

As might have been expected, the translation is not marked by painful

exactness of rendering. On the contrary, evidences of carelessness and

inaccuracy are by no means uncommon, but yet the work is, as some one

calls it, "one of the most perfect transfusions of an author from one

language to another,[238] that ever man accomplished." The great merits

of the translation consist in its preserving the very air and style of

the original, and in the astonishing richness of vocabulary which it

manifests. Where Rabelais invents a word, Sir Thomas invents one, or

two, or three; and if the former has a list of twenty or thirty

epithets, the latter has no hesitation in supplying his readers with

forty or sixty, which seem quite as good as the original stock which he

thus enlarges. Sometimes, too, as Mr W. F. Smith, a very distinguished

student of Rabelais, remarks, "in translating a single word of the

French he often empties all the synonyms given by Cotgrave into his

version."

Mr Tytler, in the above-quoted criticism on Urquhart's translation,

speaks of the peculiarities of his style as "revelling through his pages

with a licence and buoyancy which is quite unbridled, yet quite

allowable." One is obliged to demur to the last adjective. A translator,

like a compositor, should be under some obligation to adhere to the text

before him; and, as a matter of fact, the success of Urquhart's version

is occasionally interfered with by this same "unbridled revelling." The

style of Rabelais is graphic and vigorous, and at times exceedingly

graceful, and occupies a high place in French literature. Any tampering

with it, therefore, in the way of alteration or addition, was not likely

to be an improvement.

But, even after all deductions are made, the praise bestowed upon

Urquhart's work has been fully deserved. "The buoyancy and unembarrassed

sweep of its general character," says Sir Theodore Martin, "which gives

his Rabelais more the look of an original than of a translation, its

rich and well-compacted diction, the many happy turns of phrase that are

quite his own, have fairly earned for it the high estimation in which it

has long been held. His task was one of extreme difficulty, and there

have perhaps been few men besides himself that could have brought to it

the world of omnigenous knowledge which it required. It was apparently

Urquhart's ambition to realise in his own person the ideal of human

accomplishment, to be at once

'Complete in feature and in mind,

With all good grace to grace a gentleman.'

He had left no source of information unexplored, few aspects of life

unobserved, and, in the translation of Rabelais, he found full exercise

for his multiform attainments. Ably as the work has been completed by

Motteux, one cannot but regret that the worthy Knight of Cromarty had

not spared him the task."[239]

The merits of the translation can scarcely be exhibited in selections

torn from their context, and perhaps only partly intelligible; but

perhaps the following may be welcome to the reader. Let us take these

extracts from the graceful and charming sketch of the Abbey of Thelema,

which was to be different from all other monastic communities, and was

to be the home of a society of young people living together in all

innocence and joy, free from sordid cares, and devoted to the studies,

exercises, and accomplishments which are appropriate to refined and

noble spirits.

"'First, then,' said Gargantua, 'you must not build a wall about your

convent, for all other abbies are strongly walled and mured about....

Moreover, seeing there are certain convents in the world, whereof the

custome is, if any woman come in, I mean chaste and honest women, they

immediately sweep the ground which they have trod upon;[240] therefore

was it ordained, that if any man or woman, entered into religious

orders, should by chance come within this new abbey, all the roomes

should be thoroughly washed and cleansed through which they had passed.

And because in all other monasteries and nunneries all is compassed,

limited, and regulated by houres, it was decreed that in this new

structure there should be neither clock nor dial, but that, according to

the opportunities and incident occasions, all their hours should be

disposed of; for,' said Gargantua, 'the greatest losse of time, that I

know, is to count the hours. What good comes of it? Nor can there be any

greater dotage in the world then [than] for one to guide and direct his

courses by the sound of a bell, and not by his owne judgement and

discretion.'

"Item, Because at that time they put no women into nunneries, but such

as were either purblind, blinkards, lame, crooked, ill-favoured,

misshapen, fooles, senselesse, spoyled, or corrupt; nor encloystered any

men, but those that were either sickly, ill-bred lowts, simple sots, or

peevish trouble-houses; ... therefore was it ordained, that into this

religious order should be admitted no women that were not faire, well

featur'd, and of a sweet disposition; nor men that were not comely,

personable, and well conditioned.

"Item, Because in the convents of women men come not but under-hand,

privily, and by stealth, it was therefore enacted, that in this house

there shall be no women in case there be not men, nor men in case there

be not women.

"Item, Because both men and women, that are received into religious

orders after the expiring of their noviciat or probation-year, were

constrained and forced perpetually to stay there all the days of their

life, it was therefore ordered, that all whatever, men or women,

admitted within this abbey, should have full leave to depart with peace

and contentment, whensoever it should seem good to them so to do.

"Item, for that the religious men and women did ordinarily make three

vows, to wit, those of chastity, poverty, and obedience, it was

therefore constituted and appointed, that in this convent they might be

honourably married, that they might be rich, and live at liberty.

"In regard of the legitimat time of the persons to be initiated, and

years under and above which they were not capable of reception, the

women were to be admitted from ten till fifteen, and the men from

twelve till eighteen."[241]

After an elaborate description of the magnificence of the abbey and of

its endowments, and of the apparel worn by the members of the new order,

we are told of "_how the Thelemites were governed, and of their manner

of living_." "All their life," we read, "was spent not in lawes,

statutes, or rules, but according to their own free will and pleasure.

They rose out of their beds, when they thought good; they did eat,

drink, labour, sleep, when they had a minde to it, and were disposed for

it. None did awake them, none did offer to constrain them to eat, drink,

nor to do any other thing; for so had Gargantua established it. In all

their rule, and strictest tie of their order, there was but this one

clause to be observed,

DO WHAT THOU WILT;

Because men that are free, well-borne, well-bred, and conversant in

honest companies, have naturally an instinct and spurre that prompteth

them unto vertuous actions, and withdraws them from vice, which is

called honour. Those same men when by base subjection and constraint

they are brought under and kept down, turn aside from that noble

disposition, by which they formerly were inclined to vertue, to shake

off and break that bond of servitude, wherein they are so tyrannously

inslaved; for it is agreeable with the nature of man to long after

things forbidden, and to desire what is denied us.[242]

"By this liberty they entered into a very laudable emulation, to do all

of them what they saw did please one. If any of the gallants or ladies

should say, Let us drink, they would all drink. If any one of them said,

Let us play, they all played. If one said, Let us go a-walking into the

fields, they went all. If it were to go a-hawking or a-hunting, the

ladies mounted upon dainty, well-paced nags, seated in a stately palfrey

saddle,[243] carried on their lovely fists, miniardly begloved every one

of them, either a sparhawk, or a laneret, or a marlin, and the young

gallants carried the other kinds of hawkes. So nobly were they taught,

that there was neither he nor she amongst them but could read, write,

sing, play upon several musical instruments, speak five or sixe several

languages, and compose in them all very quaintly, both in verse and

prose. Never were seen so valiant knights, so noble and worthy, so

dextrous and skilful both on foot and a horseback, more brisk and

lively, more nimble and quick, or better handling all manner of weapons

then [than] were there. Never were seene ladies so proper[244] and

handsome, so miniard and dainty, lesse froward, or more ready with their

hand, and with their needle, in every honest and free action belonging

to that sexe, then [than] were there. For this reason, when the time

came, that any man of the said abbey, either at the request of his

parents, or for some other cause, had a minde to go out of it, he

carried along with him one of the ladies, namely, her whom he had before

that chosen for his mistris,[245] and [they] were married together. And

if they had formerly in Theleme lived in good devotion and amity, they

did continue therein and increase it to a greater height in their state

of matrimony: and did entertaine that mutual love till the very last day

of their life, in no lesse vigour and fervency, then [than] at the very

day of their wedding."[246]

Such is the dream which floated before the mind of Rabelais, but,

unhappily, it is still an airy fancy, and has never received a local

habitation and a name. Mrs Grundy, the vegetarians, the teetotallers,

the anti-tobacco people, and the enemies of "rational costume" have up

to the present forbidden the erection of any such building.

One of the most prominent figures in the story of Pantagruel is his

favourite, Panurge, who is a rogue, a drunkard, a coward, and a

malicious scoundrel, but who yet, like Falstaff, in spite of all his

moral deficiencies, manages to appear as an amusing personage. Into his

lips is put, with a fine disregard of congruity, an eloquent speech,

which begins in praise of debt, and ends by setting forth the

interdependence of all things in the universe. Panurge is represented as

having threescore and three ways of making money, and two hundred and

fourteen of spending it, so that he is always poor, and his sovereign

Pantagruel remonstrates with him on account of his prodigal habits.

He replies as follows: "Be still indebted to somebody or other, that

there may be somebody always to pray for you; [to pray] that the giver

of all good things may grant unto you a blessed, long, and prosperous

life; fearing, if fortune should deal crossly with you, that it might be

his chance to come short of being paid by you, he will always speak good

of you in every company, ever and anon purchase new creditors unto you;

to the end, that through their means you may make a shift by borrowing

from Peter to pay Paul,[247] and with other folk's earth fill up his

ditch. When of old in the region of the Gauls, by the institution of the

Druids,[248] the servants, slaves, and bondmen were burnt quick at the

funerals and obsequies of their lords and masters, had not they fear

enough, think you, that their lords and masters should die? For, per

force, they were to die with them for company. Did not they uncessantly

send up their supplications to their great God Mercury,[249] as likewise

unto Dis, the Father of Wealth,[250] to lengthen out their days, and

preserve them long in health? Were not they very careful to entertain

them well, punctually to look unto them, and to attend them faithfully

and circumspectly? For by those means were they to live together at

least until the hour of death. Believe me your creditors with a more

fervent devotion will beseech [Providence] to prolong your life, they

being of nothing more afraid than that you should die.... I, in this

only respect and consideration of being a debtor, esteem myself

worshipful, reverend, and formidable. For, against the opinion of most

philosophers, that of nothing ariseth nothing, yet, without having

bottomed on so much as that which is called the First Matter [Primary

Matter], did I out of nothing become such [a] maker and creator, that I

have created--what?--a gay number of fair and jolly creditors. Nay,

creditors, I will maintain it, even to the very fire itself

exclusively,[251] are fair and goodly creatures. Who lendeth nothing is

an ugly and wicked creature.... You can hardly imagine how glad I am,

when every morning I perceive myself environed and surrounded with

brigades of creditors,--humble, fawning, and full of their reverences.

And whilst I remark that, as I look more favourably upon, and give a

chearfuller countenance to one than to the other, the fellow thereupon

buildeth a conceit that he shall be the first dispatched, and the

foremost in the date of payment; and he valueth my smiles at the rate of

ready money.... I have all my lifetime held debt to be as an union or

conjunction of the heavens with the earth, and the whole cement whereby

the race of mankind is kept together;[252] yea, of such vertue and

efficacy, that, I say, the whole progeny of Adam would very suddenly

perish without it."

He then goes on to describe a world in which there are no debtors and no

debts. There will be no regular course among the planets, but all will

be in disorder. Jupiter, reckoning himself to be nothing indebted to

Saturn, will go near to thrust him out of his place; Saturn and Mars

will combine to promote the confusion; Mercury, being debtor to no one,

will no longer serve any; Venus, because she shall have lent nothing,

will no longer be venerated. "The moon," he says, "will remain bloody

and obscure. For to what end should the sun impart unto her any of his

light?[253] He owed her nothing. Nor yet will the sun shine upon the

earth, nor the stars send down any good influence,[254] because the

terrestrial globe hath desisted from sending up their wonted nourishment

by vapours and exhalations, wherewith Heraclitus said, the Stoicks

proved, Cicero maintained, they were cherished and alimented.... No rain

will descend upon the earth, nor light shine thereon; no wind will blow

there, nor will there be in it any summer or harvest.... Such a world

without lending will be no better than a dog-kennel, a place of

contention and wrangling.... Men will not then salute one another; it

will be but lost labour to expect aid or succour from any, or to cry

fire, water, murther, for none will put to their helping hand. Why? He

lent no money, there is nothing due to him. Nobody is concerned in his

burning, in his shipwrack, in his ruine, or in his death; and that

because he hitherto hath lent nothing, and would never thereafter have

lent anything. In short, Faith, Hope, and Charity would be quite

banish'd from such a world--for men are born to relieve and assist one

another."

"But, on the contrary," he went on to say, "be pleased to represent

unto your fancy another world, wherein every one lendeth, and everyone

oweth, all are debtors, and all creditors. O how great will that harmony

be, which shall thereby result from the regular motions of the heavens!

Methinks I hear it every whit as well as ever Plato did.[255] What

sympathy will there be amongst the elements! O how delectable then unto

nature will be our own works and productions! Whilst Ceres appeareth

loaden with corn, Bacchus with wines, Flora with flowers, Pomona with

fruits, and Juno fair in a clear air, wholsom and pleasant. I lose

myself in this high contemplation. Then will among the race of mankind,

peace, love, benevolence, fidelity, tranquillity, rests, banquets,

feastings, joy, gladness, gold, silver, single money [small change],

chains, rings, with other ware, and chaffer of that nature, be found to

trot from hand to hand. No suits at law, no wars, no strife, debate, nor

wrangling; none will be there an usurer, none will be there a

pinch-penny, a scrape-good wretch, or churlish hard-hearted refuser.

Will not this be the golden age in the reign of Saturn?--the true idea

of the Olympick regions, wherein all [other] vertues cease, charity

alone ruleth, governeth, domineereth, and triumpheth? All will be fair

and goodly people there, all just and vertuous. O happy world! O people

of that world most happy! Yea, thrice and four times blessed is that

people! I think in very deed that I am amongst them."[256]

In one curious passage Sir Thomas Urquhart amplifies the text of the

author whom he translates, and supplies his readers with an astonishing

list of onomatopoeic words, many of which will probably be new to those

who have not come across this passage before. Rabelais has nine of these

words, but the translator[257] enlarges the list to seventy-one.

Pantagruel is arguing against fasting and solitude as aids to a

contemplative life, and quotes the authority of his father Gargantua.

"He [Gargantua] gave us also," he said, "the example of the philosopher,

who, when he thought most seriously to have withdrawn himself unto a

solitary privacy, far from the rusling clutterments of the tumultuous

and confused world, the better to improve his theory, to contrive,

comment, and ratiocinate, was, notwithstanding his uttermost endeavours

to free himself from all untoward noises, surrounded and environ'd about

so with the barking of currs [bawling of mastiffs, bleating of sheep,

prating of parrets, tatling of jack-daws, grunting of swine, girning of

boars, yelping of foxes, mewing of cats, cheeping of mice, squeaking of

weasils, croaking of frogs, crowing of cocks, kekling of hens, calling

of partridges, chanting of swans, chattering of jays, peeping of

chickens, singing of larks, creaking of geese, chirping of swallows,

clucking of moorfowls, cucking of cuckos, bumling of bees, rammage of

hawks, chirming of linots, croaking of ravens, screeching of owls,

whicking of pigs, gushing of hogs, curring of pigeons, grumbling of

cushet-doves, howling of panthers, curkling of quails, chirping of

sparrows, crackling of crows, nuzzing of camels, wheening of whelps,

buzzing of dromedaries, mumbling of rabets, cricking of ferrets, humming

of wasps, mioling of tygers, bruzzing of bears, sussing of kitnings,

clamring of scarfes, whimpring of fullmarts, boing of buffaloes,

warbling of nightingales, quavering of meavises, drintling of turkies,

coniating of storks, frantling of peacocks, clattering of mag-pyes,

murmuring of stock-doves, crouting of cormorants, cigling of locusts,

charming of beagles, guarring of puppies, snarling of messens, rantling

of rats, guerieting of apes, snuttering of monkies, pioling of

pelicanes, quecking of ducks], yelling of wolves, roaring of lions,

neighing of horses, crying of elephants, hissing of serpents, and

wailing of turtles, that he was much more troubled than if he had been

in the middle of the crowd at the fair of Fontenay or Niort."[258] In

spite of the amplification of the original text of Rabelais, two of the

sounds are omitted--"the braying of asses," and the noise made by

grass-hoppers (_sonnent les eigales_), which we might have called

"chirping," if the swallows and sparrows had not taken possession of

that term.

As already stated, the first two books were all that were published in

the lifetime of Sir Thomas Urquhart. They appeared as separate volumes

in 1653. The unsold stock of each was reissued in 1664, in one volume,

an additional title-page, an extra preface, and a life of Rabelais being

prefixed to them. The volume became very scarce, and in 1693-94 Pierre

Antoine Motteux, a Frenchman, who was master of exceedingly racy and

idiomatic English, published an edition containing the third book. This

was extremely inaccurate, so far as typography was concerned, and gave

the public the version of Sir Thomas Urquhart with certain unspecified

changes made by the editor in order to impart to it additional

"smartness." In 1708 Motteux published a complete translation of

Rabelais, the version of the fourth and fifth books being supplied by

himself,[259] as supplementary to Urquhart's work. After the death of

Motteux, a somewhat pretentious editor named Ozell[260] brought out the

combined versions, with notes principally taken from the French of

Duchat, and this has been reprinted time after time since its first

appearance in 1737.

At least seventeen editions of Urquhart's work, either by itself or with

Motteux's supplementary matter, have been issued since his day, and

there is no sign of its fame waxing dim through the lapse of time; and

therefore the immortality after which he longed has in a measure been

won by him. And so, once more before we take our leave of him, we look

again into the twilight of the past, and see his striking figure--the

soldier, the scholar, and the author--crowned with the wreath which his

own hands have placed upon his brows, but which succeeding generations

declare him worthy to bear.

FOOTNOTES:

[232] The title-page of the first book does not contain Sir Thomas

Urquhart's name, but on it is his motto ("Mean, speak, and do well"). It

runs as follows:--"The first Book of the Works of MR. FRANCIS RABELAIS,

Doctor in Physick: Containing Five Books of the Lives, Heroick Deeds,

and Sayings of GARGANTUA and his Sonne PANTAGRUEL. Together with the

Pantagrueline Prognostication, the Oracle of the divine Bacbuc, and

response of the bottle. Hereunto are annexed the Navigations unto the

sounding Isle and the Isle of the Apedefts: as likewise the

Philosophical cream with a Limosin Epistle. All done by Mr. Francis

Rabelais, in the French Tongue, and now faithfully translated into

English. eunoei ehyloge kai ehypratte. London, Printed for Richard

Baddeley, within the Middle Templegate. 1653." On the title-page of the

second book are the translator's initials, S, T. V. C. (Sir Thomas

Urquhart of Cromartie). While on that of the third book we have his name

in full: "Now faithfully translated into English by the unimitable pen

of Sir Thomas Urwhart, Kt. and Bar. The Translator of the Two First

Books. Never before Printed. London: Printed for Richard Baldwin, near

the Oxford Arms in Warwick Lane, 1693." Copies of the first and second

books of the above date are in the British Museum, but erroneously

catalogued--not under Urquhart, but only under C., S. T. V. A second

edition of them both seems from the Bodleian Catalogue to have been

published in 1664. Both are very rare, it is said, owing to the

destruction caused by the fire of London in 1666.

[233] For those who are not special students, adequate information

concerning Rabelais and extracts from his works are to be got in Sir

Walter Besant's luminous and charming volume in the series of Foreign

Classics for English Readers (Blackwood), and in Morley's _Universal

Library_ (Routledge). In one of his poems Browning describes the steps

taken by a reader to banish the memory of a dreary pedant, whose book he

had been perusing. He says:

"Then I went indoors, brought out a loaf,

Half a cheese, and a bottle of Chablis;

Lay on the grass, and forgot the loaf

Over a jolly chapter of Rabelais."

Some have turned over Rabelais and searched for the jolly chapter in

vain, and have, perhaps, attributed their failure to the want of a

bottle of Chablis.

[234] This is somewhat doubtful. The Sorbonne and the Parliaments might

have been moved by ultra-orthodox opponents to prosecute Rabelais on

this account. The true explanation seems to be that the form of his book

was popular, and the popular French literature of the Middle

Ages--fableaux, farces, and burlesque romances--can hardly be exceeded

in the matter of coarseness (_Ency. Brit._, "Rabelais").

[235] This is surely an early allusion to the superior sensitiveness on

some points of the "_Nonconformist Conscience_." The fact alluded to

should inspire joy rather than call forth sneers, for when a conscience

becomes sensitive on some points there are reasonable hopes of its

becoming sensitive on others.

[236] _Sartor Resartus_, chap. ix.

[237] _Life of Crichton_, p. 182.

[238] In addition to any aid Urquhart may have received from friends who

were intimately acquainted with the French language, he was deeply

indebted to Cotgrave's French Dictionary, published in 1611, and

dedicated to "Sir William Cecil, Knight, Lord Burghley, and sonne and

heir apparant unto the Earle of Exeter," _i.e._, the grandson of Queen

Elizabeth's Lord Burghley.

[239] _Rabelais_, p. xxi.

[240] _I.e._ the Carthusians: like their impudence!

[241] Book i. chap. 52.

[242] "_Nitimur in vetitum, semper cupimus negata_" (Ovid, Amor. iii. 4,

17).

[243] _Avec leur palefroy guorrier_--rather, "with their prancing

palfrey." Guorrier from Gr. gaurost--haughty.

[244] Cf. Heb. xi. 23, "a proper child."

[245] _Celle laquelle l'auroit prins pour son devot_--rather, "her, who

had chosen him as her devoted servant."

[246] Book i. chap. 57.

[247] Fr. _faire versure_ = Lat. _facere versuram_ (Cic. Att. v. 1, §

2), to borrow money to pay another debt (F. W. S.).

[248] Caes. B. G. vi. 19.

[249] "_Deum maxime Mercurium colunt_" (B. G. vi. 17) (Ibid.).

[250] "_Galli se omnes ab Dite patre prognatos dicunt_" (B. G. vi. 18).

Dis is called _père des escuz_, as identical with Plutus, the god of

hidden wealth (_Ibid._).

[251] _Exclusively_, _i.e._, "I will affirm it, but not go to the stake

for it" (F. W. S.).

[252] A fine passage in one of South's _Sermons_ was evidently suggested

by the above chapter in Rabelais. "The World is maintained by

Intercourse; and the whole Course of Nature is a great Exchange, in

which one good Turn is and ought to be the stated Price of another. If

you consider the Universe as one Body, you shall find Society and

Conversation to supply the Office of the Blood and Spirits; and it is

Gratitude that makes them circulate. Look over the whole Creation, and

you shall see that the Band or Cement that holds together all the Parts

of this great and glorious Fabric is Gratitude, or something like it:

you may observe it in all the Elements, for does not the Air feed the

Flame? and does not the Flame at the same time warm and enlighten the

Air? Is not the Sea always sending forth, as well as taking in? And does

not the Earth quit scores with all the Elements, in the noble Fruits and

Productions that issue from it? And in all the Light and Influence that

the Heavens bestow upon this lower World, though the lower World cannot

equal their Benefaction, yet with a Kind of grateful Return, it reflects

those Rays that it cannot recompense: so that there is some Return

however, though there can be no Requital.... In short, Gratitude is the

great Spring that sets all the Wheels of Nature agoing; and the whole

Universe is supported by giving and returning, by Commerce and

Commutation. And now, thou ungrateful Brute, thou Blemish to Mankind,

and Reproach to thy Creation; what shall we say of thee, or to what

shall we compare thee? For thou art an Exception from all the visible

World; neither the Heavens above nor the Earth beneath afford anything

like thee: and therefore, if thou wouldest find thy Parallel, go to

Hell, which is both the Region and the Emblem of Ingratitude; for

besides thyself, there is nothing but Hell that is always receiving and

never restoring" (I. SERM. xi. "_Of the odious Sin of Ingratitude_").

[253] "Nec fratris radiis obnoxia surgere Luna" (Virg. _Georg._ i. 396)

(F. W. S.).

[254] _Influence_, much used as an astrological term. Cf. Milton:

"Taught the fix'd

their _influence_ malignant when to shower."

_Par. Lost_, x. 662.

"Bending one way their precious _influence_."

_Hymn on the Nativity_, 71.

(_Ibid._).

[255] _Plato_ never pretends that the "music of the spheres" can be

heard. He adopts the theory to some extent from the Pythagoreans.

Aristotle (_de Coelo_, ii. 9), that the noise caused by the movements of

the heavenly bodies is so prodigious and continuous, that, being

accustomed to it from our birth, we do not notice it. The only notice in

Plato that can be construed into a statement about audible music of the

spheres is in _Rep._ x., where he speaks of a siren standing upon each

of the circles of the planetary system uttering one note in one tone;

and from all the eight notes there results a single harmony (F. W. S.).

[256] Book iii. chaps. 3, 4.

[257] It is quite possible that Motteux, who published the third book of

Rabelais after Urquhart's death, is responsible for some of the

interpolations.

[258] Book iii. chap 13. _Fontenay le Comte_ in Lower Poitou and _Niort_

were noted for their busy yearly fairs. There can be doubt that the

above passage was suggested to Rabelais by what St Jerome records of the

experience of St Hilarion in the desert. "Sic attentuatus," he says,

"[jejunio et vigiliis], et in tantum exeto corpore, ut ossibus vix

haereret, quadam nocte coepit infantum audire vagitus, balatus pecorum,

mugitus boum, planctum quasi mulierum, leonum rugitus, murmur exercitus,

et prorsus variarum portenta vocum," etc. (_Vita Sancti Hilarionis_). In

Burton's _Anatomy of Melancholy_ (iii. 4. 1. 2) there is the following

reference to the same passage: "Monks, Anachorites, and the like, after

much emptiness become melancholy, vertiginous, they think they hear

strange noises, confer with Hob-goblins, Devils.... _Hilarion_, as

_Hierome_ reports in his life, and _Athanasius of Antonius_, was so bare

with fasting, _that the skin did scarce stick to the bones_; for want of

vapours (_sic_) he could not sleep, and for want of sleep became

idle-headed, _heard every night infants cry, Oxen low, Wolves howl,

Lions roar (as he thought), clattering of chains, strange voices, and

the like illusions of Devils_." It is probable also that Rabelais had

read the following passage in the _Life of Geta_, by Ælius Spartianus

(c. A.D. 317): "Familiare illi fuit has quæstiones grammaticis

proponere, ut dicerent, singula animalia quomodo vocem emitterent,

velut, Agni balant, porcelli grumniunt, palumbes minurriunt, ursi

saeviunt, leones rugiunt, leopardi rictant, elephanti barriunt, ranæ

coaxant, equi hinniunt, asini rudunt, tauri mugiunt, easque de veteribus

approbare." Nor is it likely that Rabelais was unacquainted with the

verses in Teofilo Folengo's (1491-1544) _Merlini Cocaii Macaronicon_,

which run thus:

"Nam Leo rugitum mittit, Lupus ac ululatum,

Bos boat, et uitrescit equus, Gallusque cucullat,

Sgnavolat et Gattus, baiat Canis, Ursus adirat,

Rancagat Oca, rudit Mullus, sed raggiat Asellus;

Denique quodque animal propria cum voce gridabat."

_Macaronea_, xx.

[259] In the introduction to this volume Motteux says that Sir Thomas

Urquhart was "a learned physician." It is difficult to understand what

could have given rise to such a statement. Sir Thomas had many projects

for the benefit of the human race, but there is no evidence of his ever

having cherished that of combating disease. One cannot help thinking of

the magniloquent terms in which he would have extolled his remedies, if

the fates had led him to the concoction of patent medicines. It is

doubtful, however, whether he would have had what is technically known

as "a good bed-side manner." It is quite possible that Motteux simply

meant that Sir Thomas was well acquainted with medical science, and not

that he was a physician by profession. Yet his words have often been

understood as asserting the latter. Thus we find the erroneous statement

in Granger's _Biographical Dictionary_, the Amsterdam (1741) edition of

Rabelais, and Sir John Hawkins' _Life of Johnson_, p. 294.

[260] Both Ozell and Motteux figure in Pope's _Dunciad_, in i. 296, and

ii. 412, respectively.

APPENDICES

I. PRIMITIVE FATHERS AND MOTHERS OF THE NAME OF URQUHART.

II. THE ADMIRABLE CRICHTON.

APPENDIX I

THE NAMES OF THE CHIEFS OF THE NAME OF URQUHART, AND OF THEIR PRIMITIVE

FATHERS; as by Authentick Records and Tradition they were from time

to time through the various Generations of that Family successively

conveyed, till the present yeer 1652 (p. 143).

The ancestors of Sir Thomas, for whose existence there is evidence

apart from his assertions, are indicated by their names being

printed in italics. If the editor of the _Tracts_ (1774) were to

believed, the italics would have to begin with George, No. 138 in

the list. The fact that the names in this list are more numerous

than those in the list which follows, is to be explained by

brothers succeeding each other occasionally, when there was no son

to inherit the dignity of chieftainship.

1. _Adam._

2. _Seth._

3. _Enos._

4. _Cainan._

5. _Mahalaleel._

6. _Jared._

7. _Enoch._

8. _Methusalah._

9. _Lamech._

10. _Noah._

11. _Japhet._

12. _Javan._

13. Penuel.

14. Tycheros.

15. Pasiteles.

16. Esormon.

17. Cratynter.

18. Thrasymedes.

19. Evippos.

20. Cleotinus.

21. Litoboros.

22. Apodemos.

23. Bathybulos.

24. Phrenedon.

25. Zameles.

26. Choronomos.

27. Leptologon.

28. Aglætos.

29. Megalonus.

30. Evemeros.

31. Callophron.

32. Arthmios.

33. Hypsegoras.

34. Autarces.

35. Evages.

36. Atarbes.

37. Pamprosodos.

38. Gethon.

39. Holocleros.

40. Molin.

41. Epitomon.

42. Hypotyphos.

43. Melobolon.

44. Propetes.

45. Euplocamos.

46. Philophon.

47. Syngenes.

48. Polyphrades.

49. Cainotomos.

50. Rodrigo.

51. Dicarches.

52. Exagastos.

53. Denapon.

54. Artistes.

55. Thymoleon.

56. Eustochos.

57. Bianor.

58. Thryllumenos.

59. Mellessen.

60. Alypos.

61. Anochlos.

62. Homognios.

63. Epsephicos.

64. Eutropos.

65. Coryphæus.

66. Etoimos.

67. Spudæos.

68. Eumestor.

69. Griphon.

70. Emmenes.

71. Pathomachon.

72. Anepsios.

73. Auloprepes.

74. Corosylos.

75. Detalon.

76. Beltistos.

77. Horicos.

78. Orthophron.

79. Apsicoros.

80. Philaplus.

81. Megaletor.

82. Nomostor.

83. Astioremon.

84. Phronematias.

85. Lutork.

86. Machemos.

87. Stichopæo.

88. Epelomenos.

89. Tycheros (2).

90. Apechon.

91. Enacmes.

92. Javan (2).

93. Lematias.

94. Prosenes.

95. Sosomenos.

96. Philalethes.

97. Thaleros.

98. Polyænos.

99. Cratesimachos.

100. Eunæmon.

101. Diasemos.

102. Saphenus.

103. Bramoso.

104. Celanas.

105. Vistoso.

106. Polido.

107. Lustroso.

108. Chrestander.

109. Spectabundo.

110. Philodulos.

111. Pallidino.

112. Comicello.

113. Regisato.

114. Arguto.

115. Nicarchos.

116. Marsidalio.

117. Hedumenos.

118. Agenor.

119. Diaprepon.

120. Stragayo.

121. Zeron.

122. Polyteles.

123. Vocompos.

124. Carolo.

125. Endymion.

126. Sebastian.

127. Lawrence.

128. Olipher.

129. Quintin.

130. Goodwin.

131. Frederick.

132. Sir Jasper.

133. Sir Adam.

134. Edward.

135. Richard.

136. Sir Philip.

137. Robert.

138. George.

139. James.

140. David.

141. Francis.

142. William.

143. _Adam._

144. _John._

145. _Sir William._

146. _William._

147. _Alexander._

148. _Thomas._

149. _Alexander._

150. _Walter._

151. _Henry._

152. _Sir Thomas._

153. Sir Thomas.

THE NAMES OF THE MOTHERS OF THE CHIEFS OF THE NAME OF URQUHART, AS ALSO

OF THE MOTHERS OF THEIR PRIMITIVE FATHERS. The authority for the

truth thereof being derived from the same Authentick Records and

Tradition on which is grounded the above-written Genealogie of

their male collaterals.

1. _Eva._

2. Shifka.

3. Mahla.

4. Bilha.

5. Timnah.

6. Aholima.

7. Zilpa.

8. Noema.

9. Ada.

10. Titea.

11. Debora.

12. Neginothi.

13. Hottir.

14. Orpah.

15. Axa.

16. Narfesia.

17. Goshenni.

18. Briageta.

19. Andronia.

20. Pusena.

21. Emphaneola.

22. Bonaria.

23. Peninah.

24. Asymbleta.

25. Carissa.

26. Calaglais.

27. Theoglena.

28. Pammerisla.

29. Floridula.

30. Chrysocomis.

31. Arrenopas.

32. Tharsalia.

33. Maia.

34. Roma.

35. Termuth.

36. Vegeta.

37. Callimeris.

38. Panthea.

39. Gonima.

40. Ganymena.

41. Thespesia.

42. Hypermnestra.

43. Horatia.

44. Philumena.

45. Neopis.

46. Thymelica.

47. Ephamilla.

48. Porrima.

49. Lampedo.

50. Teleclyta.

51. Clarabella.

52. Eromena.

53. Zocallis.

54. Lepida.

55. Nicolia.

56. Proteusa.

57. Gozosa.

58. Venusta.

59. Prosectica.

60. Delotera.

61. Tracara.

62. Pothina.

63. Cordata.

64. Aretias.

65. Musurga.

66. Romalia.

67. Orthoiusa.

68. Recatada.

69. Chariestera.

70. Rexenora.

71. Philerga.

72. Thomyris.

73. Varonilla.

74. Stranella.

75. Æquanima.

76. Barosa.

77. Epimona.

78. Diosa.

79. Bonita.

80. Aretusa.

81. Bendita.

82. Regalletta.

83. Isumena.

84. Antaxia.

85. Bergola.

86. Viracia.

87. Dynastis.

88. Dalga.

89. Eutocusa.

90. Corriba.

91. Præcelsa.

92. Plausidica.

93. Donosa.

94. Solicælia.

95. Bontadosa.

96. Calliparia.

97. Crelenca.

98. Pancala.

99. Dominella.

100. Mundala.

101. Pamphais.

102. Philtrusa.

103. Meliglena.

104. Philetium.

105. Tersa.

106. Dulcicora.

107. Gethosyna.

108. Collabella.

109. Eucnema.

110. Tortolina.

111. Ripulita.

112. Urbana.

113. Lampusa.

114. Vistosa.

115. Hermosina.

116. Bramata.

117. Zaglopis.

118. Androlema.

119. Trastevole.

120. Suaviloqua.

121. Francoline.

122. Matilda.

123. Allegra.

124. Winnifred.

125. Dorothy.

126. Lawretta.

127. Genivieve.

128. Marjory.

129. Jane.

130. Anne.

131. Magdalen.

132. Girsel.

133. Mary.

134. Sophia.

135. Elconore.

136. Rosalind.

137. Lillias.

138. _Brigid._

139. _Agnes._

140. _Susanna._

141. _Catherine._

142. _Helen._

143. _Beatrice._

144. _Elizabeth._

145. _Elizabeth._

146. _Christian._

APPENDIX II

THE ADMIRABLE CRICHTON (p. 157).

"To speak a little now of his compatriot Crichtoun, I hope will not

offend the ingenuous reader; who may know, by what is already displayed,

that it cannot be heterogeneal from the proposed purpose, to make report

of that magnanimous act atchieved by him at the Duke of Mantua's court,

to the honour not only of his own, but to the eternal renown also of the

whole Isle of Britain; the manner whereof was thus:

"A certain Italian gentleman, of a mighty, able, strong, nimble, and

vigorous body, by nature fierce, cruell, warlike, and audacious, and in

the gladiatory art so superlatively expert and dextrous, that all the

most skilful teachers of Escrime, and fencing-masters of Italy, (which

in matter of choice professors in that faculty, needed never as yet to

yeild to any nation in the world), were by him beaten to their good

behaviour, and by blows given in, which they could not avoid, enforced

to acknowledge him their over comer; bethinking himself, how, after so

great a conquest of reputation, he might by such means be very suddenly

enriched, he projected a course of exchanging the blunt to sharp, and

the foiles into tucks. And in this resolution providing a purse full of

gold, worth neer upon four hundred pounds English money, traveled

alongst the most especial and considerable parts of Spaine, France, the

Low-Countryes, Germany, Pole, Hungary, Greece, Italy, and other places,

where ever there was greatest probability of encountring with the

eagerest and most atrocious duellists. And immediately after his arrival

to any city or town that gave apparent likelihood of some one or other

champion that would enter the lists and cope with him, he boldly

challenged them with sound of trumpet, in the chief market-place, to

adventure an equal sum of money against that of his, to be disputed at

the sword's point who should have both. There failed not several brave

men, almost of all nations, who, accepting of his cartels, were not

afraid to hazard both their person and coine against him; but, (till he

midled with this Crichtoun), so maine was the ascendant he had above all

his antagonists, and so unlucky the fate of such as offered to scuffle

with him, that all his opposing combatants, (of what state or dominion

soever they were), who had not lost both their life and gold, were glad,

for the preservation of their person, (though sometimes with a great

expence of blood), to leave both their reputation and mony behind them.

At last, returning homewards to his own country, loaded with honor and

wealth, or rather the spoils of the reputation of those forraginers,

whom the Italians call Tramontani, he, by the way, after his accustomed

manner of abording other places, repaired to the city of Mautua, where

the Duke, (according to the courtesie usually bestowed on him by other

princes), vouchsafed him a protection and savegard for his person; he

(as formerly he was wont to do, by beat of drum, sound of trumpet, and

several printed papers, disclosing his designe, battered on all the

chief gates, posts, and pillars of the town), gave all men to

understand, that his purpose was to challenge, at the single rapier, any

whosoever of that city or country, that durst be so bold as to fight

with him, provided he would deposite a bag of five hundred Spanish

pistols over against another of the same value, which he himself should

lay down, upon this condition, that the enjoyment of both should be the

conqueror's due. His challenge was not long unanswered, for it happened,

at the same time, that three of the most notable cutters in the world,

(and so highly cryed up for valour, that all the bravos of the land were

content to give way to their domineering, how insolent soever they

should prove, because of their former constantly obtained victories in

the field), were all three together at the court of Mantua, who, hearing

of such a harvest of five hundred pistols to be reaped, (as they

expected), very soon, and with ease, had almost contested amongst

themselves for the priority of the first encounterer, but that one of my

Lord Duke's courtiers moved them to cast lots for who should be first,

second, and third, in case none of the former two should prove

victorious. Without more adoe, he whose chance it was to answer the

cartel with the first defiance, presented himself within the barriers,

or place appointed for the fight, where, his adversary attending him, as

soon as the trumpet sounded a charge, they jointly fel to work; and,

(because I am not now to amplifie the particulars of a combat), although

the dispute was very hot for a while, yet, whose fortune it was to be

first of the three in the field, had the disaster to be first of the

three that was foyled; for, at last, with a thrust in the throat, he was

killed dead upon the ground. This, nevertheless, not a whit dismayed the

other two, for, the nixt day, he that was second in the roll gave his

appearance after the same manner as the first had done, but with no

better success; for he likewise was laid flat dead upon the place, by

means of a thrust he received in the heart. The last of the three,

finding that he was as sure of being engaged in the fight as if he had

been the first in order, pluckt up his heart, knit his spirits

together, and, all the day after the death of the second, most

couragiously entering the lists, demeaned himself for a while with great

activity and skill; but at last, his luck being the same with those that

preceded him, by a thrust in the belly, he within four and twenty hours

after gave up the ghost. These (you may imagine), were lamentable

spectacles to the Duke and citie of Mantua, who, casting down their

faces for shame, knew not what course to take for reparation of their

honour. The conquering duellist, proud of a victory so highly tending to

both his honour and profit, for the space of a whole fortnight, or two

weeks together, marched daily along the streets of Mantua, (without any

opposition or controulment), like another Romulus or Marcellus in

triumph; which, the never too much to be admired Crichtoun perceiving,

to wipe off the imputation of cowardise lying upon the court of Mantua,

to which he had but even then arrived, (although formerly he had been a

domestick thereof), he could neither eat nor drink till he had first

sent a challenge to the conqueror, appelling him to repair with his best

sword in his hand, by nine of the clock in the morning of the next day,

in presence of the whole court, and in the same place where he had

killed the other three, to fight with him upon this quarrel, that in the

court of Mantua there were as valiant men as he; and, for his better

encouragement to the desired undertaking, he assured him that, to the

aforesaid five hundred pistols, he would adjoyn a thousand more, wishing

him to do the like, that the victor, upon the point of his sword, might

carry away the richer bootay. The challenge, with all its conditions, is

no sooner accepted of, the time and place mutually condescended upon,

kept accordingly, and the fifteen hundred pistols _hinc inde_ deposited,

but of the two rapiers of equal weight, length, and goodness, each

taking one, in presence of the Duke, Dutchess, with all the noblemen,

ladies, magnificos, and all the choicest of men, women, and maids of

that citie, as soon as the signal for the duel was given, by the shot of

a great piece of ordnance of threescore and four pound ball, the

combatants, with a lion-like animosity, made their approach to one

another, and, being within distance, the valiant Crichtoun, to make his

adversary spend his fury the sooner, betook himself to the defensive

part; wherein, for a long time, he shewed such excellent dexterity in

warding the other's blows, slighting his falsifyings, in breaking

measure, and often, by the agility of his body, avoiding his thrust,

that he seemed but to play, while the other was in earnest. The

sweetness of Crichtoun's countenance, in the hotest of the assault, like

a glance of lightning on the hearts of the spectators, brought all the

Italian ladies on a sudden to be enamoured of him; whilst the sternness

of the other's aspect, he looking like an enraged bear, would have

struck terrour into wolves, and affrighted an English mastiff. Though

they were both in their linens, (to wit, shirts and drawers, without any

other apparel), and in all outward conveniences equally adjusted, the

Italian, with redoubling his stroaks, foamed at the mouth with a

cholerick heart, and fetched a pantling breath; the Scot, in sustaining

his charge, kept himself in a pleasant temper, without passion, and made

void his designes; he alters his wards from tierce to quart; he primes

and seconds it, now high, now lowe, and casts his body, (like another

Prothee), into all the shapes he can, to spie an open on his adversary,

and lay hold of an advantage, but all in vain; for the invincible

Crichtoun, whom no cunning was able to surprise, contrepostures his

respective wards, and, with an incredible nimbleness of both hand and

foot, evades the intent and frustrates the invasion. Now is it, that the

never before conquered Italian, finding himself a little faint, enters

into a consideration that he may be over-matched; whereupon a sad

apprehension of danger seizing upon all his spirits, he would gladly

have his life bestowed on him as a gift, but that, having never been

accustomed to yield, he knows not how to beg it. Matchless Crichtoun,

seeing it now high time to put a gallant catastrophe to that so long

dubious combat, animated with a divinely inspired servencie to fulfil

the expectation of the ladies, and crown the Duke's illustrious hopes,

changeth his garb, falls to act another part, and, from defender, turn

assailant; never did art so grace nature, nor nature second the precepts

of art with so much liveliness, and such observancie of time, as when,

after he had struck fire out of the steel of his enemie's sword, and

gained the feeble thereof with the fort of his own, by angles of the

strongest position, he did, by geometrical flourishes of straight and

oblique lines, so practically execute the speculative part, that, as if

there had been Remoras and secret charms in the variety of his motion,

the fierceness of his foe was in a trice transqualified into the

numbness of a pageant. Then was it that, to vindicate the reputation of

the Duke's family, and expiate the blood of the three vanquished

gentlemen, he alonged a stoccade _de pied ferme_; then recoyling, he

advanced another thrust, and lodged it home; after which, retiring

again, his right foot did beat the cadence of the blow that pierced the

belly of this Italian, whose heart and throat being hit with the two

former stroaks, these three franch bouts given in upon the back of the

other; besides that, if lines were imagined drawn from the hand that

livered them, to the places which were marked by them, they would

represent a perfect isosceles triangle, with a perpendicular from the

top angle cutting the basis in the middle; they likewise give us to

understand, that by them he was to be made a sacrifice of atonement for

the slaughter of the three aforesaid gentlemen, who were wounded in the

very same parts of their bodies by other such three venees as these,

each whereof being mortal; and his vital spirits exhaling as his blood

gushed out, all he spoke was this, That seeing he could not live, his

comfort in dying was, that he could not dye by the hand of a braver man;

after the uttering of which words, he expiring, with the shril clarcens

of trumpets, bouncing thunder of artillery, bethwacked beating of drums,

universal clapping of hands, and loud acclamations of joy for so

glorious a victory, the aire above them was so rarified by the extremity

of the noise and vehement sound, dispelling the thickest and most

condensed parts thereof, that (as Plutarch speakes of the Grecians, when

they raised their shouts of allegress up to the very heavens at the

hearing of the gracious proclamations of Paulus Æmilius in favour of

their liberty), the very sparrows and other flying fowls were said to

fall to the ground for want of aire enough to uphold them in their

flight.

"When this sudden rapture was over, and all husht into its former

tranquility, the noble gallantry and generosity, beyond expression, of

the inimitable Crichtoun, did transport them all againe into a new

exstasie of ravishment, when they saw him like an angel in the shape of

a man, or as another Mars, with the conquered enemie's sword in one

hand, and the fifteen hundred pistols he had gained in the other,

present the sword to the Duke as his due, and the gold to his high

treasurer, to be disponed equally to the three widows of the three

unfortunate gentlemen lately slaine, reserving only to himself the

inward satisfaction he conceived, for having so opportunely discharged

his duty to the House of Mantua.