Characters from the Histories & Memoirs of the Seventeenth Century Part 14

In his old age he was very bald[1], which claymed a veneration; yet within dore he used to study, and sitt bare-headed: and sayd he never tooke cold in his head but that the greatest trouble was to keepe-off the Flies from pitching on the baldnes: his Head was ... inches (I have the measure) in compa.s.se, and of a mallet forme, approved by the Physiologers.

[Footnote 1: 'recalvus' above 'very bald'.]

[Sidenote: Eie]

He had a good Eie, and that of a hazell colour, which was full of life & spirit, even to his last: when he was earnest, in discourse, there shone (as it were) a bright live-coale within it. he had two kind of Lookes: when he laught, was witty, & in a merry humour, one could scarce see his Eies: by and by when he was serious and earnest[1], he open'd his eies round (i.) his eielids. he had midling eies, not very big, nor very little.

[Footnote 1: 'earnest' above 'positive'.]

[Sidenote: Stature]

He was six foote high and something better, and went indifferently erect; or, rather considering his great age, very erect.

[Sidenote: Sight Witt]

His Sight & Witt continued to his last. He had a curious sharp sight, as he had a sharpe Witt; which was also so sure and steady, (and contrary to that men call Brodwittednes,) that I have heard him oftentimes say, that in Multiplying & Dividing he never mistooke a figure[1]: and so, in other things. He thought much & with excellent Method, & Stedinesse, which made him seldome make a false step.

[Footnote 1: 'never ... figure' above 'was never out' ('out' corrected to 'mistooke').]

[Sidenote: Reading]

He had read much, if one considers his long life; but his Contemplation was much more then his Reading. He was wont to say that, if he _had read as much as other men, he should have knowne no more then[1] other men_.

[Footnote 1: 'knowne ... then' above 'continued still as ignorant as'.]

[Sidenote: Singing]

He had alwayes bookes of p.r.i.c.k-song lyeing on his Table: e.g. of H.

Lawes &c. Songs: which at night when he was a bed, & the dores made fast, & was sure no body heard him, he sang _aloud_, (not that he had a very good voice) but to cleare his pipes[1]: he did beleeve it did his Lunges good, & conduced much to prolong his life.

[Footnote 1: 'to cleare his pipes' above 'for his healths sake'.]

56.

THOMAS FULLER.

_Born 1608. Died 1661._

He was of Stature somewhat Tall, exceeding the meane, with a proportionable bigness to become it, but no way inclining to Corpulency: of an exact Straightnesse of the whole Body, and a perfect Symmetry in every part thereof. He was of a Sanguine const.i.tution, which beautified his Face with a pleasant Ruddinesse, but of so Grave and serious an aspect, that it Awed and Discountenanced the smiling Attracts of that complexion. His Head Adorned with a comely Light-Coloured Haire, which was so, by Nature exactly Curled (an Ornament enough of it self in this Age to Denominate a handsome person, and wherefore all Skill and Art is used) but not suffered to overgrow to any length unseeming his modesty and Profession.

His Gate and Walking was very upright and graceful, becoming his well shapen Bulke: approaching something near to that we terme Majesticall; but that the Doctor was so well known to be void of any affectation or pride. Nay so Regardlesse was he of himselfe in his Garb and Rayment, in which no doubt his Vanity would have appeared, as well as in his stately pace: that it was with some trouble to himselfe, to be either Neat or Decent; it matter'd not for the outside, while he thought himself never too Curious and Nice in the Dresses of his mind.

Very Carelesse also he was to seeming inurbanity in the modes of Courtship and demeanour, deporting himself much according to the old _English_ Guise, which for its ease and simplicity suited very well with the Doctor, whose time was designed for more Elaborate businesse: and whose MOTTO might have been sincerity.

As in.o.bservant he was of persons, unless businesse with them, or his concerns pointed them out and adverted him; seeing and discerning were two things: often in several places, hath he met with Gentlemen of his nearest and greatest Acquaintance, at a full rencounter and stop, whom he hath endeavoured to pa.s.se by, not knowing, that is to say, not minding of them, till rectifyed and recalled by their familiar compellations.

This will not (it may be presumed) and justly cannot be imputed unto any indisposednesse and unaptnesse of his Nature, which was so far from Rude and untractable, that it may be confidently averred, he was the most complacent person in the Nation, as his Converse and Writings, with such a freedome of Discourse and quick Jocundity of style, do sufficiently evince.

He was a perfect walking Library, and those that would finde delight in him must turn him; he was to be diverted from his present purpose with some urgency: and when once Unfixed and Unbent, his mind freed from the inc.u.mbency of his Study; no Man could be more agreeable to Civil and Serious mirth, which limits his most heightned Fancy never transgressed.

He had the happinesse of a very Honourable, and that very numerous acquaintance, so that he was noway undisciplined in the Arts of Civility; yet he continued _semper idem_, which constancy made him alwaies acceptable to them. At his Diet he was very sparing and temperate, but yet he allowed himself the repasts and refreshings of two Meals a day: but no lover of Danties, or the Inventions of Cookery: solid meats better fitting his strength of Const.i.tution; but from drink very much abstemious, which questionlesse was the cause of that uninterrupted Health he enjoyed till this his First and Last sicknesse: of which Felicity as he himself was partly the cause of by his exactnesse in eating and drinking, so did he the more dread the sudden infliction of any Disease, or other violence of Nature, fearing this his care might amount to a presumption, in the Eyes of the great Disposer of all things, and so it pleased G.o.d it should happen.

But his great abstinence of all was from Sleep, and strange it was that one of such a Fleshly and sanguine composition, could overwatch so many heavy propense inclinations to Rest. For this in some sort he was beholden to his care in Diet aforesaid, (the full Vapours of a repletion in the Stomack ascending to the Brain, causing that usual Drowsinesse we see in many) but most especially to his continual custome, use, and practise, which had so subdued his Nature, that it was wholy Governed by his Active and Industrious mind.

And yet this is a further wonder: he did scarcely allow himself, from his First Degree in the University, any Recreation or Easie Exercise, no not so much as walking, but very Rare and Seldome; and that not upon his own choice, but as being compelled by friendly, yet, Forcible Invitations; till such time as the War posted him from place to place, and after that his constant attendance on the Presse in the Edition of his Books: when was a question, which went the fastest, his Head or his Feet: so that in effect he was a very stranger, if not an Enemy to all pleasure.

Riding was the most pleasant, because his necessary convenience; the Doctors occasions, especially his last work, requiring Travel, to which he had so accustomed himself: so that this Diversion, (like Princes Banquets only to be lookt upon by them, not tasted of) was rather made such then enjoyed by him.

So that if there were any Felicity or Delight, which he can be truly said to have had: it was either in his Relations or in his Works. As to his Relations, certainly, no man was more a tender, more indulgent a Husband and a Father: his Conjugal Love in both matches being equally blest with the same Issue, kept a constant Tenour in both Marriages, which he so improved, that the Harmony of his Affections still'd all Discord, and Charmed the noyse of pa.s.sion.

Towards the Education of his Children, he was exceeding carefull, allowing them any thing conducing to that end, beyond the present measure of his estate; which its well hoped will be returned to the Memory of so good a Father, in their early imitation of him in all those good Qualities and Literature, to which they have now such an Hereditary clayme.

As to his Books, which we usually call the Issue of the Brain, he was more then Fond, totally abandoning and forsaking all things to follow them. And yet if Correction and Severity (so this may be allowed the gravity of the Subject) be also the signes of Love: a stricter and more carefull hand was never used. True it is they did not grow up without some errours, like the Tares: nor can the most refined pieces of any of his Antagonists boast of perfection. He that goes an unknown and beaten Track in a Dubious way, though he may have good directions, yet if in the journey he chance to stray, cannot well be blamed; they have perchance plowed with his Heifer, and been beholden to those Authorities (for their Exceptions) which he first gave light to.

To his Neighbours and Friends he behaved himselfe with that chearfulnesse and plainnesse of Affection and respect, as deservedly gained him their Highest esteeme: from the meanest to the highest he omitted nothing what to him belonged in his station, either in a familiar correspondency, or necessary Visits; never suffering intreaties of that which either was his Duty, or in his power to perform. The quickness of his apprehension helped by a Good Nature, presently suggested unto him (without putting them to the trouble of an _innuendo_) what their severall Affairs required, in which he would spare no paynes: insomuch that it was a piece of Absolute Prudence to rely upon his Advice and a.s.sistance. In a word, to his Superiours he was Dutifully respectfull without Ceremony or Officiousnesse; to his equalls he was Discreetly respectful, without neglect or unsociableness; and to his Inferiours, (whom indeed he judged Christianly none to be) civilly respectfull without Pride or Disdain.

But all these so eminent vertues, and so sublimed in him, were but as foyles to those excellent gifts wherewith G.o.d had endued his intellectuals. He had a Memory of that vast comprehensiveness, that he is deservedly known for the first inventer of that n.o.ble Art, whereof having left behind him no Rules, or directions, save, onely what fell from him in discours, no further account can be given, but a relation of some very rare experiments of it made by him.

He undertook once in pa.s.sing to and fro from _Templebar_ to the furthest Conduit in _Cheapside_, at his return again to tell every Signe as they stood in order on both sides of the way, repeating them either backward or forward, as they should chuse, which he exactly did, not missing or misplacing one, to the admiration of those that heard him.

The like also would he doe in words of different Languages, and of hard and difficult prolation, to any number whatsoever: but that which was most strange, and very rare in him, was his way of writing, which something like the _Chineses_, was from the top of the page to the bottom: the manner thus. He would write near the Margin the first words of every Line down to the Foot of the Paper, then would he begining at the head againe, fill up every one of these Lines, which without any interlineations or s.p.a.ces but with the full and equal length, would so adjust the sense and matter, and so aptly Connex and Conjoyn the ends and beginnings of the said Lines, that he could not do it better, as he hath said, if he had writ all out in a Continuation.

57.

JOHN MILTON.

_Born 1608. Died 1674._

Notes by JOHN AUBREY.

He was of middle stature,[1] he had light abroun[2] hayre, his complexion exceeding[3] faire. he was so faire, that they called him the Lady of Christs college. ovall face. his eie a darke gray.... he was a Spare man.

[Footnote 1: Aubrey wrote first 'He was scarce so tall as I am'; then added above the last six words, 'q[uaere] quot feet I am high'; and then above this 'Resp: of middle stature'.]

[Footnote 2: 'abroun' (i.e. auburn) written above 'browne'.]

[Footnote 3: 'exceeding' above 'very'.]