was only one substantial dish of meat (fit for the plain condition of a husbandman) on a dish of about four and twenty feet in diameter. The company were the farmer and his wife, three children, and an old grandmother. When they sat down, the farmer placed me at some distance from him on the table, which was thirty feet high from the floor. I was in a terrible fright, and kept as far as I could from the edge for fear of falling. The wife minced a bit of meat, then crumbled some bread on a trencher and placed it before me. I made her a low bow, took out my knife and fork and fell to eat, which gave them exceeding delight. The mistress sent her maid for a small drain-cup which held about two gallons and filled it with drink; I took up the vessel with much difficulty in both hands and in a most respectful manner, drank to her ladyship's health expressing the words as loud as I could in English, which made the company laugh so heartily, that I was almost deafened with the noise. This liquor tasted like a small cider, and was not unpleasant. Then the master made me a sign to come to his trencher side; but as I walked on the table, being in great surprise all the time, as the indulgent reader will easily conceive and excuse, I happened to stumble against a crust and fell flat on my face, but received no hurt. I got up immediately, and observing the good people to be in much concern, I took my hat (which I held under my arm out of good manners) and waving it over my head, made three huzzas to show that I had got no mischief by my fall. “But advancing forward towards my master (as I shall henceforth call him), his youngest son, who sat next to him, an arch boy of about ten years old, took me up by the legs and held me so high in the air that I trembled in every limb; but his father snatched me from him, and at the same time gave him such a box on the ear as would have felled a European troop-of-horse to the earth, ordering him to be taken from the table. But being afraid the boy might owe me a spite, and well remembering how mischievious all children among us are to sparrows, rabbits, young kittens and puppy dogs, I fell on my knees, and pointing to the boy, made my master to understand as well as I could that I desired his son should be pardoned. The father complied, and the lad took his seat again, whereupon I went to him and kissed his hand, which my master took, and made him stroke me gently with it. "In the midst of dinner my mistress' favorite cat leaped into her lap. I heard a noise behind me like that of a dozen stocking weavers at work, and turning my head, I found it proceeded from the purring of that animal, who seemed to be three times larger than an ox, as I computed by the view of her head and one of her paws, while her mistress was feeding and stroking her. The fierceness of this creature's countenance discomposed me, though I stood at the farthest end of the table, above fifty feet off; and although my mistress held her fast, for fear she would spring and seize me in her talons. But it happened there was no danger, for the cat took not the least notice of me, when my master placed me within three yards of her. And, as I have been always told, and found true by experience in my travels, that flying or discovering fear before a strange animal, is a certain way to make it pursue or attack you, so I resolved in this dangerous juncture, to show no manner of concern. I walked with intrepidity five or six times before the very head of the cat, and came within half a yard of her, whereupon she drew herself back as if afraid of me. I had less apprehension concerning the dogs, whereof three or four came into the room, as is usual in farmers' houses; one of which was a mastiff, equal in bulk to four elephants, and a greyhound, somewhat taller than the mastiff, but not so large." It must be kept in mind while reading the account of Gulliver's life in Brobdingnag, that he was a man six feet in height, and proportionately large, otherwise he will assume to us only Lilliputian size. The whole account of his life there is very amusing; how he was made a pet of by his master's little daughter, Glumdalclitch, who fitted up her doll's cradle for him; how he had a padded box to travel in, which was carried about by Glumdalclitch; how his master made a show of him through the kingdom of the Brobdingnagians and many other interesting adventures, till he finally escapes and gets home again. Gulliver has other adventures after these which we have read. One in a flying island called Laputa; another in the land of the Houghnhums and the Yahoos, in which horses are the superior race of animals, and man the inferiors. But none are so interesting as those of Lilliput and Brobdingnag, and these will always be the names by which the great Dean Swift will be longest remembered. TALK XLI. ENGLISH COMEDY WRITERS-CONGREVE, VANBRUGH, FAR QUHAR. THREE of the most brilliant comedy writers in English were contemporaries of Pope, Swift, and Addison. These were Congreve, Vanbrugh, and Farquhar, whose lively, brilliant, pointed, style in their dialogue comes nearest to the brightness of French comedy of anything we have ever had in our literature. Almost every sentence spoken by their characters is so sharp with wit, that the dialogue reads like a string of epigrams. It is a pity that so much genius was lavished on works of which the motive is coarse and repulsive. Not one of the comedies of this age is now acted, and not one can be read with much profit or pleasure. William Congreve, the earliest of this trio, was also the most distinguished. He was a man of the world, Born 1670. and thus the better fitted to write comedies which Died 1729. were pictures of the world in which he lived. Nearly all his works were comedies, although his one tragedy, the Mourning Bride, was that of which Dr. Johnson said: "If I were requested to select from the whole mass of English Poetry the most poetical paragraph, I know not what I should prefer to an exclamation in the Mourning Bride." Here is the paragraph to which Johnson refers the description of the cathedral at night: [Almenia and Leonora in the cathedral.] Alm. It was a fancied noise, for all is hushed. Alm. It was thy fear, or else some transient wind Leon. Alm. Hark! All is hushed and still as death. 'Tis dreadful! And terror on my aching sight. The tombs Thy voice, my own affrights me with its echo. Let me say, after reading this, that I know of no subject on which I would not rather take Dr. Johnson's opinion than upon that of Poetry. But Johnson's verdict was that of Congreve's own time. He had places of profit and honor in abundance; great men were proud to call on him; Pope dedicated to him his translation of the Iliad; and after his death, a great lady had a wax figure made to resemble him, laid out in state in her drawing-room, that she might lavish on it the affection she had felt for Congreve himself. His comedies are all that can be desired in sparkle and relish of style. Hazlitt, a very good critic, who wrote in the early part of this century, says that "They are full of the niceties of English style, and there is even a peculiar flavor in the words not to be be found in another writer." It is their grossness which makes them now so fortunately unknown? Here is a scene from the opening of Love for Love, one of the most famous of the comedies: (Valentine, who has fallen under his father's displeasure by his extravagant way of living, and is in love with Angelica, who is also displeased with him, has shut himself up in his lodgings and taken to study. He is at his table reading, and Jeremy, his valet, is standing near him). Val. Jeremy-. Jer. Sir? Val. [Throwing the book at him]. Here, take away. I'll walk a turn and digest what I've read. Jer. [Taking the book, mutters:] You'll grow devilish fat upon this paper diet. Val. And d'ye hear, go you to breakfast. There's a page doubled down in Epictetus* that is feast for an emperor. Jer. Was Epictetus a real cook, or did he only write recipes? Val. Read, read, sirrah! and refine your appetite; learn to live upon instruction; feast your mind and mortify your flesh; read, and take your nourishment in at your eyes; shut up your mouth and chew the cud of understanding; so Epictetus advises. Jer. O Lord, I have heard much of him when I waited on a gentleman in Cambridge. Pray, what was that Epictetus? Val. A very rich man, not worth a groat. Jer. Humph! and so he has made a very fine feast when there is nothing to be eaten? Val. Yes. Jer. Sir, you are a gentleman, and probably understand this finefeeding; but, if you please, I'd rather live on board wages. Does your Epictetus, or your Seneca here, or any of these poor, rich rogues, tell you how to pay your debts without money? Will they shut up the mouths of your creditors? Will Plato be bail for you? or Diogenęs, because he understands confinement and lived in a tub, go to prison with you? S'life, sir, what do you mean? to mew yourself up here with three or four musty books, in commendation of starving and poverty? Val. Why, sirrah, I have no money, you know it, and therefore resolve to rail on all who have; in that I but follow the example of the wisest and wittiest men in all ages, those poets and philosophers whom you naturally hate for just such another reason, because they abound in sense and you are a fool. Jer. Ay, sir, I am a fool, and I know it; and yet, Heaven help me, I'm poor enough to be a wit; but I was always a fool when I told what your expenses would bring you to; your coaches, your liveries, your treats and balls, your being in love with a lady that did not care a farthing for you in your prosperity; and keeping company with wits that cared for nothing but your prosperity; and now, when you are poor, hate you as much as they do one another. Val. * * For the wits, I am in a condition to be even with them. * * I'll take some of their trade out of their hands. Jer. Now, heaven of mercy continue the tax on paper. You don't mean to write? * A Greek moralist and philosopher. |