Character Writings of the Seventeenth Century Part 20

A young man is the spring of time, when nature in her pride shows her beauty to the world. He is the delight of the eye and the study of the mind, the labour of instruction and the pupil of reason. His wit is in making or marring, his wealth in gaining or losing, his honour in advancing or declining, and his life in abridging or increasing. He is a bloom that either is blasted in the bud or grows to a good fruit, or a bird that dies in the nest or lives to make use of her wings. He is a colt that must have a bridle ere he be well managed, and a falcon that must be well maned or he will never be reclaimed. He is the darling of nature and the charge of reason, the exercise of patience and the hope of charity. His exercise is either study or action, and his study either knowledge or pleasure. His disposition gives a great note of his generation, and yet his breeding may either better or worse him, though to wish a blackamoor white be the loss of labour, and what is bred in the bone will never out of the flesh. In sum, till experience have seasoned his understanding, he is rather a child than a man, a prey of flattery or a praise of providence, in the way of grace to prove a saint, or in the way of sin to grow a devil.

A HOLY MAN.

A holy man is the chiefest creature in the workmans.h.i.+p of the world. He is the highest in the election of love, and the nearest to the image of the human nature of his Maker. He is served of all the creatures in the earth, and created but for the service of his Creator. He is capable of the course of nature, and by the rule of observation finds the art of reason. His senses are but servants to his spirit, which is guided by a power above himself. His time is only known to the eye of the Almighty, and what he is in his most greatness is as nothing but in His mercy. He makes law by the direction of life, and lives but in the mercy of love.

He treads upon the face of the earth till in the same substance he be trod upon, though his soul that gave life to his senses live in heaven till the resurrection of his flesh. He hath an eye to look upward towards grace, while labour is only the punishment of sin. His faith is the hand of his soul, which layeth hold on the promise of mercy. His patience is the tenure of the possession of his soul, his charity the rule of his life, and his hope the anchor of his salvation. His study is the state of obedience, and his exercise the continuance of prayer; his life but a pa.s.sage to a better, and his death the rest of his labours.

His heart is a watch to his eye, his wit a door to his mouth, his soul a guard to his spirit, and his limbs are but labourers for his body. In sum, he is ravished with divine love, hateful to the nature of sin, troubled with the vanities of the world, and longing for his joy but in heaven.

GEOFFREY MINSHULL.

_After "The Good and the Bad" published in 1616, came, in 1618, "Essays and Characters of a Prison and Prisoners, by G. M. of Grayes Inn, Gent."

G.M. signed his name in full--Geffray Minshul--after the Dedication to his uncle, Mr. Matthew Mainwaring of Nantwich, Ches.h.i.+re, and he dates from the King's Bench Prison. Philip Bliss found record in a History of Nantwich of a monument there in St. Mary's Church, erected by Geoffrey Minshull of Stoke, Esq., to the memory of his ancestors. He quotes also from Geoffrey Minshull's Characters the folloiuing pa.s.sage from the Dedication, and the Character of a Prisoner._

FROM THE DEDICATION OF "ESSAYS AND CHARACTERS OF A PRISON AND PRISONERS."

"Since my coming into this prison, what with the strangeness of the place and strictness of my liberty, I am so transported that I could not follow that study wherein I took great delight and chief pleasure, and to spend my time idly would but add more discontentments to my troubled breast, and being in this chaos of discontentments, fantasies must arise, which will bring forth the fruits of an idle brain, for _e malis minimum_. It is far better to give some account of time, though to little purpose, than none at all. To which end I gathered a handful of essays, and few characters of such things as by my own experience I could say _Probatum est:_ not that thereby I should either please the reader, or show exquisiteness of invention, or curious style; seeing what I write of is but the child of sorrow, bred by discontentments and nourished up with misfortunes, to whose help melancholy Saturn gave his judgment, the night-bird her invention, and the ominous raven brought a quill taken from his own wing, dipped in the ink of misery, as chief aiders in this architect of sorrow."

A CHARACTER OF A PRISONER.

A prisoner is an impatient patient, lingering under the rough hands of a cruel physician: his creditor having cast his water knows his disease, and hath power to cure him, but takes more pleasure to kill him. He is like Tantalus, who hath freedom running by his door, yet cannot enjoy the least benefit thereof. His greatest grief is that his credit was so good and now no better. His land is drawn within the compa.s.s of a sheep's skin, and his own hand the fornication that bars him of entrance: he is fortune's tossing-ball, an object that would make mirth melancholy: to his friends an abject, and a subject of nine days' wonder in every barber's shop, and a mouthful of pity (that he had no better fortune) to midwives and talkative gossips; and all the content that this transitory life can give him seems but to flout him, in respect the restraint of liberty bars the true use. To his familiars he is like a plague, whom they dare scarce come nigh for fear of infection; he is a monument ruined by those which raised him, he spends the day with a _hei mihi! vae miserum!_ and the night with a _nullis est medicabilis herbis._

HENRY PARROT [?].

_In 1626--year of the death of Francis Bacon--appeared "Cures for the Itch; Characters, Epigrams, Epitaphs by H. P." with the motto "Scalpat qui Tangitur." H. P. was read by Philip Bliss into Henry Parrot, who published a collection of epigrams in 1613, as "Laquei Ridiculosi, or Springes for Woodc.o.c.ks." The Characters in this little volume are of a Ballad Maker, a Tapster, a Drunkard, a Rectified Young Man, a Young Novice's New Younger Wife, a Common Fiddler, a Broker, a Jovial Good Fellow, a Humourist, a Malapert Young Upstart, a Scold, a Good Wife, and a Self-Conceited Parcel-Witted Old Dotard._

A SCOLD

Is a much more heard of, than least desired to be seen or known, she-kind of serpent; the venomed sting of whose poisonous tongue, worse than the biting of a scorpion, proves more infectious far than can be cured. She's of all other creatures most untameablest, and covets more the last word in scolding than doth a combater the last stroke for victory. She loudest lifts it standing at her door, bidding, with exclamation, flat defiance to any one says black's her eye. She dares appear before any justice, nor is least daunted with the sight of constable, nor at worst threatenings of a cucking-stool. There's nothing mads or moves her more to outrage than but the very naming of a wisp, or if you sing or whistle when she is scolding. If any in the interim chance to come within her reach, twenty to one she scratcheth him by the face; or do but offer to hold her hands, she'll presently begin to cry out murder. There's nothing pacifies her but a cup of sack, which taking in full measure of digestion, she presently forgets all wrongs that's done her, and thereupon falls straight a-weeping. Do but entreat her with fair words, or flatter her, she then confesseth all her imperfections, and lays the guilt upon her maid. Her manner is to talk much in her sleep, what wrongs she hath endured of that rogue her husband, whose hap may be in time to die a martyr; and so I leave them.

A GOOD WIFE

Is a world of happiness, that brings with it a kingdom in conceit, and makes a perfect adjunct in society; she's such a comfort as exceeds content, and proves so precious as cannot be paralleled, yea more inestimable than may be valued. She's any good man's better second self, the very mirror of true constant modesty, the careful housewife of frugality, and dearest object of man's heart's felicity. She commands with mildness, rules with discretion, lives in repute, and ordereth all things that are good or necessary. She's her husband's solace, her house's ornament, her children's succour, and her servant's comfort.

She's (to be brief) the eye of wariness, the tongue of silence, the hand of labour, and the heart of love. Her voice is music, her countenance meekness, her mind virtuous, and her soul gracious. She's a blessing given from G.o.d to man, a sweet companion in his affliction, and joint-copartner upon all occasions. She's (to conclude) earth's chiefest paragon, and will be, when she dies, heaven's dearest creature.

_In_ 1629_ appeared sixteen pieces in fifty-six pages ent.i.tled "Micrologia, Characters or Essayes, of Persons, Trades, and Places, offered to the City and Country, by R. M." There was an "R. M." who wrote from the coast of Guiana in November 1817 "Newes of Sir W.

Raleigh. With the true Description of Guiana: as also relation of the excellent Government, and much hope of the prosperity of the Voyage.

Sent from a gentleman of his Fleet (R. M.) to a most especiall Friend of his in London. From the River of Caliana on the Coast of Guiana, Novemb._ 17, 1617," _published in 1618. The Characters of Persons and Trades in "Micrologia" are: a Fantastic Tailor, a Player, a Shoemaker, a Ropemaker, a Smith, a Tobacconist, a Cunning Woman, a Cobbler, a Tooth-drawer, a Tinker, a Fiddler, a Cunning Horse-Courser; and of Places, Bethlem, Ludgate, Bridewell, Newgate.

This is R. M.'s character of a Player--_

PLAYER

Is a volume of various conceits or epitome of time, who by his representation and appearance makes things long past seem present. He is much like the counters in arithmetic, and may stand one while for a king, another while a beggar, many times as a mute or cipher. Sometimes he represents that which in his life he scarce practises--to be an honest man. To the point, he oft personates a rover, and therein conies nearest to himself. If his action prefigure pa.s.sion, he raves, rages, and protests much by his painted heavens, and seems in the height of this fit ready to pull Jove out of the garret where perchance he lies leaning on his elbows, or is employed to make squibs and crackers to grace the play. His audience are oftentimes judicious, but his chief admirers are commonly young wanton chambermaids, who are so taken with his posture and gay clothes, they never come to be their own women after. He exasperates men's enormities in public view, and tells them their faults on the stage, not as being sorry for them, but rather wishes still he might find more occasions to work on. He is the general corrupter of spirits yet untainted, inducing them by gradation to much lascivious depravity. He is a perspicuity of vanity in variety, and suggests youth to perpetrate such vices as otherwise they had haply ne'er heard of. He is (for the most part) a notable hypocrite, seeming what he is not, and is indeed what he seems not. And if he lose one of his fellow strolls, in the summer he turns king of the gipsies; if not, some great man's protection is a sufficient warrant for his peregrination, and a means to procure him the town-hall, where he may long exercise his qualities with clown-claps of great admiration, in a tone suitable to the large ears of his illiterate auditory. He is one seldom takes care for old age, because ill diet and disorder, together with a consumption or some worse disease taken up in his full career, have only chalked out his catastrophe but to a colon; and he scarcely survives to his natural period of days.

_In_ 1631 _"Whimzies, or, A new Cast of Characters" inscribed to Sir Alexander Radcliffe by one who signed his dedication c.l.i.tus Alexandrinus, gave twenty-four Characters, of which this of the maker of a Courant or news sheet is one:--_

A CORRANTO-COINER

Is a state newsmonger; and his own genius is his intelligencer. His mint goes weekly, and he coins money by it. Howsoever, the more intelligent merchants do jeer him, the vulgar do admire him, holding his novels oracular; and these are usually sent for tokens or intermissive courtesies betwixt city and country. He holds most constantly one form or method of discourse. He retains some military words of art, which he shoots at random; no matter where they hit they cannot wound any. He ever leaves some pa.s.sages doubtful, as if they were some more intimate secrecies of state, closing his sentence abruptly with--_hereafter you shall hear more._ Which words, I conceive, he only useth as baits, to make the appet.i.te of the reader more eager in his next week's pursuit fora more satisfying labour. Some general-erring relations he picks up, as crumbs or fragments, from a frequented ordinary; of which shreds he shapes a coat to fit any credulous fool that will wear it. You shall never observe him make any reply in places of public concourse; he ingenuously acknowledges himself to be more bounden to the happiness of a retentive memory, than either ability of tongue or pregnancy of conceit. He carries his table-book still about with him, but dares not pull it out publicly. Yet no sooner is the table drawn than he turns notary, by which means he recovers the charge of his ordinary. Paul's is his walk in winter, Moorfields in summer, where the whole discipline, designs, projects, and exploits of the States, Netherlands, Poland, Switzer, Crimchan and all, are within the compa.s.s of one quadrangle walk most judiciously and punctually discovered. But long he must not walk, lest he make his news-press stand. Thanks to his good invention, he can collect much out of a very little; no matter though more experienced judgments disprove him, he is anonymous, and that will secure him. To make his reports more credible or (which he and his stationer only aims at) more vendible, in the relation of every occurrence he renders you the day of the month; and to approve himself a scholar, he annexeth these Latin parcels, or parcel-gilt sentences, _veteri stylo, novo stylo_. Palisados, parapets, counter-scarps, forts, fortresses, rampiers, bulwarks, are his usual dialect. He writes as if he would do some mischief, yet the charge of his shot is but paper. He will sometimes start in his sleep, as one affrighted with visions, which I can impute to no other cause but to the terrible skirmishes which he discoursed of in the daytime. He has now tied himself apprentice to the trade of minting, and must weekly perform his task, or (beside the loss which accrues to himself) he disappoints a number of no small fools, whose discourse, discipline, and discretion is drilled from his state-service. These you shall know by their Monday's mornings question, a little before exchange time: Stationer, have you any news? Which they no sooner purchase than peruse; and, early by next morning (lest their country friend should be deprived of the benefit of so rich a prize), they freely vent the substance of it, with some ill.u.s.trations, if their understanding can furnish them that way. He would make you believe that he were known to some foreign intelligence, but I hold him the wisest man that hath the least faith to believe him. For his relations he stands resolute, whether they become approved or evinced for untruths; which if they be, he has contracted with his face never to blush for the matter. He holds especial concurrence with two philosophical sects, though he be ignorant of the tenets of either: in the collection of his observations he is peripatetical, for he walks circularly; in the digestion of his relations he is stoical, and sits regularly. He has an alphabetical table of all the chief commanders, generals, leaders, provincial towns, rivers, ports, creeks, with other fitting materials to furnish his imaginary building. Whisperings, mutterings, and bare suppositions are sufficient grounds for the authority of his relations.

It is strange to see with what greediness this airy chameleon, being all lungs and wind, will swallow a receipt of news, as if it were physical; yea, with what frontless insinuation he will screw himself into the acquaintance of some knowing intelligencers, who, trying the cask by his hollow sound, do familiarly gull him. I am of opinion, were all his voluminous centuries of fabulous relations compiled, they would vie in number with the Iliads of many fore-running ages. You shall many times find in his gazettas, pasquils, and corrantos miserable distractions: here a city taken by force long before it be besieged; there a country laid waste before ever the enemy entered. He many times tortures his readers with impertinencies, yet are these the tolerablest pa.s.sages throughout all his discourse. He is the very landscape of our age. He is all air; his ear always open to all reports, which, how incredible soever, must pa.s.s for current and find vent, purposely to get him current money and delude the vulgar. Yet our best comfort is, his chimeras live not long; a week is the longest in the city, and after their arrival, little longer in the country, which past they melt like b.u.t.ter, or match a pipe, and so burn. But indeed, most commonly it is the height of their ambition to aspire to the employment of stopping mustard-pots, or wrapping up pepper, powder, staves-aker, &c., which done, they expire. Now for his habit, Wapping and Long Lane will give him his character. He honours nothing with a more endeared observance, nor hugs ought with more intimacy, than antiquity, which he expresseth even in his clothes. I have known some love fish best that smelled of the pannier; and the like humour reigns in him, for he loves that apparel best that has a taste of the broker. Some have held him for a scholar, but trust me such are in a palpable error, for he never yet understood so much Latin as to construe _Gallo-Belgicus_. For his library (his own continuations excepted), it consists of very few or no books. He holds himself highly engaged to his invention if it can purchase him victuals; for authors, he never converseth with them, unless they walk in Paul's. For his discourse it is ordinary, yet he will make you a terrible repet.i.tion of desperate commanders, unheard-of exploits, intermixing withal his own personal service. But this is not in all companies, for his experience hath sufficiently informed him in this principle--that as nothing works more on the simple than things strange and incredibly rare, so nothing discovers his weakness more among the knowing and judicious than to insist, by way of discourse, on reports above conceit. Amongst these, therefore, he is as mute as a fish. But now imagine his lamp (if he be worth one) to be nearly burnt out, his inventing genius wearied and footsore with ranging over so many unknown regions, and himself wasted with the fruitless expense of much paper, resigning his place of weekly collections to another, whom, in hope of some little share, he has to his stationer recommended, while he lives either poorly respected or dies miserably suspended. The rest I end with his own close:--Next week you shall hear more.

_The other characters in "Whimzies" were an Almanac-maker, a Ballad-monger, a Decoy, an Exchange-man, a Forester, a Gamester, an Hospital-man, a Jailer, a Keeper, a Launderer, a Metal-man, a Neater, an Ostler, a Postmaster, a Quest-man, a Ruffian, a Sailor, a Traveller, an Under-Sheriff, a Wine-Soaker, a Xantippean, a Jealous Neighbour, a Zealous Brother. The collection was enlarged by addition under separate t.i.tle-page of "A Cater-Character, thrown out of a box by an Experienced Gamester"-which gave Characters of an Apparitor, a Painter, a Pedlar, and a Piper. The author added also some lines "upon the Birthday of his sonne Iohn," beginning--

"G.o.d blesse thee, Iohn, And make thee such an one That I may joy In calling thee my son.

Thou art my ninth, And by it I divine That thou shalt live To love the Muses Nine."_

JOHN MILTON,

_when he was at college, ventured down among the Character-writers in his two pieces on the University Carrier. Thomas Hobson had been for sixty years carrier between Cambridge and the Bull Inn, Bishopsgate Street, London. He was a very well-known Cambridge character. Steele, in No. 509 of the "Spectator" ascribed to him the origin of the proverbial phrase, Hobson's Choice. "Being a man of great ability and invention, and one that saw where there might good profit arise, though the duller men overlooked it, this ingenious man was the first in this island who let out hackney-horses.'" [That is a mistake, but never mind.] "He lived in Cambridge; and, observing that the scholars rid hard, his manner was to keep a large stable of horses, with boots, bridles, and whips, to furnish the gentlemen at once, without going from college to college to borrow. I say, Mr. Hobson kept a stable of forty good cattle, always ready and fit for travelling; but, when a man came for a horse, he was led into the stable, where there was great choice; but he obliged him to take the horse which stood next the stable door; so that every customer was alike well served according to his chance, and every horse ridden with the same justice--from whence it became a proverb, when what ought to be your election was forced upon you, to say 'Hobson's Choice!'"

In the spring of 1630 the Plague in Cambridge caused colleges to be closed, and among other precautions against spread of infection, Hobson the Carrier was forbidden to go to and fro between Cambridge and London.

At the end of the year, after six or seven, months of forced inaction, Hobson sickened; and he died on the first of January, at the age of eighty-six, leaving his family amply provided for, and money for the maintenance of the town conduit. At the Bull Inn in London there used to be a portrait of him with a money-bag under his arm.

Character-writing being in fas.h.i.+on many a character of the University Carrier was written, no doubt, by Cambridge men after Hobson's death at the beginning of the year_ 1631 _(new style). And these were Milton's.

Their unlikeness to other work of his lies in their likeness to a form of literature which was but fas.h.i.+on of the day, and having travelled out of sight of its old starting-point and forgotten where its true goal lay, had gone astray, and often by idolatry of wit sinned against wisdom._

ON THE UNIVERSITY CARRIER,

_Who sickened in the time of his Vacancy, being forbid to go to London by reason of the Plague._

Here lies old Hobson. Death hath broke his girt, And here, alas, hath laid him in the dirt; Or else, the ways being foul, twenty to one He's here stuck in a slough, and overthrown.

'Twas such a s.h.i.+fter that, if truth were known, Death was half glad when he had got him down; For he had any time this ten years full Dodged with him betwixt Cambridge and _The Bull_, And surely Death could never have prevailed Had not his weekly course of carriage failed: But lately, finding him so long at home, And thinking now his journey's end was come, And that he had ta'en up his latest inn, In the kind office of a chamberlin Showed him his room where he must lodge that night, Pulled off his boots, and took away the light.

If any ask for him, it shall be said, "Hobson has supped, and's newly gone to bed."