The Indicatior: a miscellany for the fields and the fireside

Part I. First American Edition

NEW YORK : WILEY AND PUTNAM, 161 BROADWAY

YK f$i

Stereotyped by T. B. SMITH, 216 William Street.

AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION.

The Indicator, a series of papers originally published in weekly numbers, having been long out of print, and repeated calls having been made for it among the booksellers, the author has here made a selection, comprising the greaterportion of the articles, and omitting such only as he unwillingly put forth in the hurry of periodical publication, or as seemed otherwise unsuited for present publication, either by the nature of their disquisitions, or from containing commendatory criticisms now rendered superfluous by the reputation of the works criticised.

The author has little further to say, by way of advertisement to these pages, except that both the works were written with the same view of inculcating a love of nature and imagination, and of furnishing a sample of the enjoyment which they afford ; and he cannot give a better proof of that enjoyment, as far as he was capable of it, than by stating, that both were written during times of great trouble with him, and both helped him to see much of that fair play between his own anxieties and his natural cheerfulness, of which an indestructible belief in the good and the beautiful has rendered him perhaps not undeserving.

London, Dec. 6, 1833.

XXV Paob

Author's Introduction iii

Difficulty of finding a Name for a Work of

this kind .1

A Word on Translation from the Poets . 4

Autumnal Commencement of Fires — Mantel- Pieces — Apartments for Study ... 5

Acontius's Apple 9

Godiva . . 11

Pleasant Memories connected with various

Parts of the Metropolis . . . . 15

Advice to the Melancholy 23

Charles Brandon, and Mary Queen of France 26 On the Household Gods of the Ancients . 20

Social Genealogy .34

Angling * 38

Ludicrous Exaggerations . . . .43

Gilbert ! Gilbert ! 48

Fatal Mistake of Nervous Disorders for Madness . 50

Mists and Fogs 55

The Shoemaker of Veyros . . . . . 60

More News of Ulysses 65

Far Countries 70

A Tale for a Chimney Corner ... 76

Thieves, Ancient and Modern . . . .85 A few Thoughts on Sleep ..... 116 The Fair Revenge ...,.%..• 122 Spirit of the Ancient Mythology \ . . 128 Getting up on Cold Mornings .... 134 The Old Gentleman 138

IV

CONTENTS.

Dolphins 143

Ronald of the Perfect Hand . 145

A Chapter on Hats .... . 156

SeaVen on Shore 164

On the Realities of Imagination . .171

Deaths of Little Children 182

Poetical Anomalies of Shape . . 186

Spring and Daisies 189

May-Day . 197

Shakspeare's Birth-Day .... 207

La Belle Dame sans Mercy . . . . 211

Of, Sticks 214

Of the* Sight of Shops 222

A nearer View of some of the Shops . 230

XXVIL

XXVIII.

XXIX.

XXX.

^-XXXI.

XXXII.

XXXIII.

XXXIV

XXXV.

XXXVI.

-XXXVII.

XXXVIII.

XXXIX.

XL.

THE INDICATOR.

There is a bird in the interior of Africa, whose habits would rather seem to belong to the interior of Fairy-land ; but they have been well authenticated. It indicates to honey-hunters, where the nests of wild bees are to be found. It calls them with a cheerful cry, which they answer ; and on finding itself recognized, flies and hovers over a hollow tree containing the honey. While they are occupied in collecting it, the bird goes to a little distance, where he observes all that passes ; and the hunters, when they have helped themselves, take care to leave him his portion of the food. — This is the CucuLtrs Indicator of Linnaeus, otherwise called the Moroe, Bee Cuckoo, or Honey Bird.

There he arriving, round about doth flie,

And takes survey with busie, curious eye :

Now this, now that, he tasteth tenderly. — Spencer.

Chapter I

Difficulty of finding a Name for a Work of this Kind.

Never did gossips, when assembled to determine the name of a new-born child, whose family was full of conflicting interests, experience a difficulty half so great as that which an author undergoes in settling the title for a periodical work. In the former case, there is generally some paramount uncle, or prodigious third cousin, who is understood to have the chief claims, and to the golden lustre of whose face the clouds of hesitation and jealousy gradually give way. But these children of the brain have no godfather at hand : and yet their single appellation is bound to comprise as many public interests as all the Christian names of a French or a German prince. It is to be modest : it is to be expressive : it is to be new : it is to be striking : it is to have something in it equally intelligible to the man 2

THE INDICATOR. [chap, i of plain understanding, and surprising for the man of imagination : — in a word, it is to be impossible.

How far we have succeeded in the attainment of this happy nonentity we leave others to judge. There is one good thing however which the hunt after a title is sure to realize ; — a great deal of despairing mirth. We were visiting a friend the other night, who can do anything for a book but give it a title ; and after many grave and ineffectual attempts to furnish one for the present, the company, after the fashion of Rabelais, and with a chair-shaking merriment which he himself might have joined in, fell to turning a hopeless thing into a jest. It was like that exquisite picture of a set of laughers in Shakspeare : —

One rubbed his elbow, thus ; and fleered, and swore,

A better speech was never spoke before :

Another, with his finger and his thumb,

Cried " Via ! we will do 't, come what will come !"

The third he capered, and cried, " All goes well !"

The fourth turned on the toe, and down he fell

With that they all did tumble on the ground,

With such a zealous laughter, so profound,

That in this spleen ridiculous, appears,

To check their laughter, passion's solemn tears.

Love's Labor 's Lost.

Some of the names had a meaning in their absurdity, such as the Adviser, or Helps for Composing ; — the Cheap Reflector, or Every Man His Own Looking-Glass ; — the Retailer, or Every Man His Own Other Man's Wit ; — Nonsense, to be continued. Others were laughable by the mere force of contrast, as the Crocodile, or Pleasing Companion ; — Chaos, or the Agreeable Miscellany ; — the Fugitive Guide ; — the Foot Soldier, or Flowers of Wit ; — Bigotry, or the Cheerful Instructor ; — the Polite Repository of Abuse ; — Blood, being a Collection of Light Essays. Others were sheer ludicrousness and extravagance, as the Pleasing Ancestor ; the Silent Companion ; the Tart ; the Leg of Beef, by a Layman ; the Ingenious Hatband ; the Boots of Bliss ; the Occasional Dinner ; the Tooth-ache ; Recollections of a Very Unpleasant Nature ; Thoughts on Taking up a Pair of Snuffers ; Thoughts on a Barouche-box ; Thoughts on a Hill of Considerable Eminence ', Meditations on a Pleasing Idea ; Mate chap, i.] DIFFICULTY OF NAMING A WORK OF THIS KIND. 3

rials for Drinking ; the Knocker, No. I. • — the Hippopotamus entered at Stationers' Hall ; the Piano-forte of Paulus iEmilius ; the Seven Sleepers at Cards ; the Arabian Nights on Horseback : — with an infinite number of other mortal murders of common sense, which rose to "push us from our stools/ 5 and which none but the wise or good-natured would think of enjoying.

THE INDICATOR. [chap. ii.

CHAPTER II. A Word on Translation from the Poets

Intelligent men of no scholarship, on reading Horace, Theocritus, and other poets, through the medium of translation, have often wondered how those writers obtained their glory. And they well might. The translations are no more like the original than a walking-stick is like a flowering bough. It is the same with the versions of Euripides, of iEschylus, of Sophocles, of Petrarch, of Boileau, &c, &c, and in many respects of Homer. Perhaps we could not give the reader a more brief, yet complete specimen of the way in which bad translations are made, than by selecting a well-known passage from Shakspeare, and turning it into the common-place kind of poetry that flourished so widely among us till of late years. Take the passage, for instance, where the lovers in the Merchant of Venice seat themselves on a bank by moonlight : — -

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! Here will we sit, and let the sound of music Creep in our ears : soft stillness, and the night, Become the touches of sweet harmony.

Now a foreign translator of the ordinary kind, would dilute and take all taste and freshness out of this draught of poetry, in a style somewhat like the following : —

With what a charm, the moon, serene and bright, Lends on the bank its soft reflected light ! Sit we, I pray ; and let us sweetly hear The strains melodious with a raptured ear ; For soft retreats, and night's impressive hour, To \ irmony impart divinest power.

chap, in.] AUTUMNAL COMMENCEMENT OF FIRES.

Chapter III

Autumnal Commencement of Fires — Mantel-Pieces — Apartments for Study.

How pleasant it is to have fires again ! We have not time to regret summer, when the cold fogs begin to force us upon the necessity of a new kind of warmth ;— a warmth not so fine as sunshine, but, as matters go, more sociable. The English get together over their fires, as the Italians do in their summershade. We do not enjoy our sunshine as we ought ; our climate seems to render us almost unaware that the weather is fine, when it really becomes so : but for the same reason we make as much of our winter, as the anti-social habits that have grown upon us from other causes will allow. And for a similar reason, the southern European is unprepared for a cold day. The houses in many parts of Italy are summer-houses, unprepared for winter ; so that when a fit of cold weather comes, the dismayed inhabitant, walking and shivering about with a little brazier in his hands, presents an awkward image of insufficiency and perplexity. ' A few of our fogs, shutting up the sight of everything out of doors, and making the trees and the eaves of the houses drip like rain, would admonish him to get warm in good earnest. If " the web of our life " is always to be " of a mingled yarn/' a good warm hearth-rug is not the worst part of the manufacture. Here we are then again, with our fire before us, and our books on each side. What shall we do 1 Shall we take out a Life of somebody, or a Theocritus, or Petrarch, or Ariosto, or Montaigne, or Marcus Aurelius, or Moliere, or Shakspeare, who includes them all ? Or shall we read an engraving from Poussin or Raphael ? Or shall we sit with tilted chairs, planting our wrists upon our knees, and toasting the up-turned palms of our hands, while we discourse of manners and of man's heart and hopes, with at least a sincerity, a good intention, and good-r ature ;

THE INDICATOR. [chap. hi.

that shall warrant what we say with the sincere, the good-intentioned, and the good-natured ?

Ah — take care. You see what that old-looking saucer is, with a handle to it ? It is a venerable piece of earthenware, which may have been worth to an Athenian, about two-pence ; but to an author, is worth a great deal more than ever he could — deny for it. And yet he would deny it too. It will fetch his imagination more than ever it fetched potter or penny-maker. Its little shallow circle overflows for him with the milk and honey of a thousand pleasant associations. This is one of the uses of having mantel-pieces. You may often see on no very rich mantel- piece a representative body of all the elements physical and intellectual — a shell for the sea, a stuffed bird or some feathers for the air, a curious piece of mineral for the earth, a glass of water with some flowers in it for the visible process of creation, — a cast from sculpture for the mind of man; — and underneath all is the bright and ever-springing fire, running up through them heavenwards, like hope through materiality. We like to have a little curiosity of the mantei-piece kind within our reach and inspection. For the same reason we like a small study, where we are almost in contact with our books. We like to feel them about us ; — to be in the arms of our mistress Philosophy, rather than see her at a distance. To have a huge apartment for a study is like lying in the great bed at Ware, or being snug on a mile-stone upon Hounslow Heath. It is space and physical activity, not repose and concentration. It is fit only for grandeur and ostentation, — for those who have secretaries, and are to be approached like gods in a temple. The Archbishop of Toledo, no doubt, wrote his homilies in a room ninety feet long. The Marquis Marialva must have been approached by Gil Bias through whole ranks of glittering authors, standing at due distance. But Ariosto, whose mind could fly out of its nest over all nature, wrote over the house he built, " parva, sed apta mihi" — small, but suited to me. However, it is to be observed that he could not afford a larger. He was a Duodenarian in that respect, like ourselves. We do not know how our ideas of a study might expand with our walls, Montaigne, who was Montaigne " of that ilk " and lord of a great chachap, in.] AUTUMNAL COMMENCEMENT OF FIRES. 7

teau, had a study u sixteen paces in diameter, with three noble and free prospects." He congratulates himself, at the same time, on its circular figure, evidently from a feeling allied to the one in favor :f smallness. " The figure of my study," says he, " is round, and has no more flat (bare) wall, than what is taken up by my table and my chairs • so that the remaining parts of the circle present me with a view of all my books at once, set upon five degrees of shelves round about me." (Cotton's Montaigne, b. 3, ch. 3.)

A great prospect we hold to be a very disputable advantage, upon the same reasoning as before ; but we like to have some green boughs about our windows, and to fancy ourselves as much as possible in the country, when we are not there. Milton expressed a wish with regard to his study, extremely suitable to our present purpose. He would have the lamp in it seen, thus letting others into a share of his enjoyments, by the imagination of them.

And let my lamp at midnight hour Be seen in some high lonely tower, Where I may oft outwatch the Bear With thrice-great Hermes ; or unsphere The spirit of Plato, to unfold What world or what vast regions hold The immortal mind, that hath forsook Her mansion in this fleshly nook.

There is a fine passionate burst of enthusiasm on the subject of a study, in Fletcher's play of the Elder Brother, Act i., Scene 2.

Sordid and dunghill minds, composed of earth,

In that gross element fix all their happiness :

But purer spirits, purged and refined,

Shake off that clog of human frailty. Give me

Leave to enjoy myself. That place, that does

Contain my books, the best companions, is

To me a glorious court, where hourly I

Converse with the old sages and philosophers ;

And sometimes for variety I confer

With kings and emperors, and weigh their counsels;

THE INDICATOR. [chap.

Calling their victories, if unjustly got,

Unto a strict account ; and in my fancy,

Deface their ill-placed statues. Can I then

Part with such constant pleasures, to embrace

Uncertain vanities ? No, be it your care

To augment a heap of wealth : it shall be mine

To increase in knowledge. Lights there, for my study.

chap, iv.] ACONTIUS'S APPLE.

CHAPTER IV. Acontius's Apple

Acontius was a youth of the island of Cea (now Zia), who, at the sacrifices in honor of Diana, fell in love with the beautiful virgin, Cydippe. Unfortunately she was so much above him in rank, that he had no hope of obtaining her hand in the usual way ; but the wit of a lover helped him to an expedient. There was a law in Cea, that any oath, pronounced in the temple of Diana, was irrevocably binding. Acontius got an apple, and writing some words upon it, pitched it into Cydippe's bosom. The words were these :

By Dian, I will marry Acontius.

Or, as a poet has written them :

I swear by holy Dian, I will be

Thy bride betrothed, and bear thee company.

Cydippe read, and married herself. It is said that she was repeatedly on the eve of being married to another person ; but her imagination, in the shape of the Goddess, as often threw her into a fever ; and the lover, whose ardor and ingenuity had made an impression upon her, was made happy. Aristsenetus, in his Epistles, calls the apple kvSwviov po\ov, a Cretan apple, which is supposed to mean a quince ; or as others think, an orange, or a citron. But the apple was, is, and must be, a true, unsophisticated apple. Nothing else would have suited. " The apples, methought." says Sir Philip Sydney of his heroine in the Arcadia, " fell down from the trees to do homage to the apples of her breast." The idea seems to have originated with Theocritus (Idyl. 27, v. 50, edit. Valckenaer), from whom it was copied

10 THE INDICATOR. [chap. iv.

by the Italian writers. It makes a lovely figure in one of the most famous passages of Ariosto, where he describes the beauty of Alcina {Orlando Furioso, canto 7, st. 14) —

Her bosom is like milk, her neck like snow ; A rounded neck ; a bosom, where you see v Two crisp young ivory apples come and go, Like waves that on the shore beat tenderly, When a sweet air is ruffling to and fro.

And after him, Tasso, in his fine ode on the Golden Age : —

Traean dolci carole

Meschiando a le parole

Strettamente tenaci.

La verginella ignude

E spesso o in flume o in lago

Then among streams and flowers,

The little Winged Powers

Went singing carols, without torch or bow ;

The nymphs and shepherds sat

Mingling with innocent chat

Sports and low whispers, and with whispers low

Kisses that would not go.

The maiden, budding o'er,

Kept not her bloom uneyed,

Which now a veil must hide,

Nor the crisp apples which her bosom bore :

And oftentimes in river or in lake,

The lover and his love their merry bath would take.

chap, v.] GODIVA. 11

CHAPTER V. Godiva

This is the lady who, under the title of Countess of Coventry, used to make such a figure in our childhood upon some old pocket-pieces of that city. We hope she is in request there still ; otherwise the inhabitants deserve to be sent from Coventry. That city was famous in saintly legends for the visit of the eleven thousand virgins — an " incredible number," quoth Selden. But the eleven thousand virgins have vanished with their credibility, and a noble-hearted woman of flesh and blood is Coventry's true immortality.

The story of Godiva is not a fiction, as many suppose it. At least it is to be found in Matthew of Westminster, and is not of a nature to have been a mere invention. Her name, and that of her husband, Leofric, are mentioned in an old chapter recorded by another early historian. That the story is omitted by Hume and others, argues little against it ; for the latter are accustomed to confound the most interesting anecdotes of times and manners with something below the dignity of history (a very absurd mistake) ; and Hume, of whose philosophy better things might have been expected, is notoriously less philosophical in his history than in any other of his works. A certain coldness of temperament, not unmixed with aristocratical pride, or at least with a great aversion from everything like vulgar credulity, rendered his scepticism so extreme that it became a sort of superstition in turn, and blinded him to the claims of every species of enthusiasm, civil as well as religious. Milton, with his poetical eyesight, saw better, when he meditated the history of his native country. We do not remember whether he relates the present story, but we remember well, that at ,he beginning of his fragment on that subject, he says he shall relate doubtful stories as

THE INDICATOR [chap. v.

well as authentic ones, for the benefit of those, if no others, who will know how to make use of them, namely, the poets.* We have faith, however, in the story ourselves. It has innate evidence enough for us, to give full weight to that of the old annalist. Imagination can invent a good deal ; affection more ; but affection can sometimes do things, such as the tenderest imagination is not in the habit of inventing ; and this piece of noble-heartedness we believe to have been one of them.

Leofric, Earl of Leicester, was the lord of a large feudal territory in the middle of England, of which Coventry formed a part. He lived in the time of Edward the Confessor ; and was so eminently a feudal lord, that the hereditary greatness of his dominion appears to have been singular, even at that time, and to have lasted with an uninterrupted succession from Ethelbald to the Conquest — a period of more than three hundred years. He was a great and useful opponent of the famous Earl Godwin.

Whether it was owing to Leofric or not, does not appear, but Coventry was subject to a very oppressive tollage, by which it would seem that the feudal despot enjoyed the greater part of the profit of all marketable commodities. The progress of knowledge has shown us how abominable, and even how unhappy for all parties, is an injustice of this description ; yet it gives one an extraordinary idea of the mind in those times, to see it capable of piercing through the clouds of custom, of ignorance, and even of self-interest, and petitioning the petty tyrant to forego such a privilege. This mind was Godiva's. The other sex, always more slow to admit reason through the medium of feeling, were then occupied to the full in their warlike habits. It was reserved for a woman to anticipate ages of liberal opinion, and to surpass them in the daring virtue of setting a principle above a custom.

Godiva entreated her lord to give up his fancied right ; but in vain. At last, wishing to put an end to her importunities, he told her, either in a spirit of bitter jesting, or with a playful raillery

* When Dr. Johnson, among his other impatient accusations of our great republican, charged him with telling unwarrantable stories in his history, he must have overlooked this announcement ; and yet, if we recollect, it is but in the second page of the fragment. So hasty, and blind, and liable to be put to shame, is prejudice.

chap v.] GODIVA. 13

that could not be bitter with so sweet an earnestness, that he would give up his tax, provided she rode through the city of Coventry, naked. She took him at his word. One may imagine the astonishment of a fierce, unlettered chieftain, not untinged with chivalry, at hearing a woman, and that too of the greatest delicacy and rank, maintaining seriously her intention of acting in a manner contrary to all that was supposed fitting for her sex, and at the same time forcing upon him a sense of the very beauty of her conduct by its principled excess. It is probable, that as he could not prevail upon her to give up her design, he had sworn some religious oath when he made his promise ; but be this as it may, he took every possible precaution to secure her modesty from hurt. The people of Coventry were ordered to keep within doors, to close up all their windows and outlets, and not to give a glance into the streets upon pain of death. The day came ; and Coventry, it may be imagined, was silent as death. The lady went out at the palace door, was set on horseback, and at the same time divested of her wrapping garment, as if she had been going into a bath ; then taking the fillet from her head, she let down her long and lovely tresses, which poured around her body like a veil ; and so, with only her white legs remaining conspicuous, took her gentle way through the streets. 4 What scene can be more touching to the imagination — beauty, modesty, feminine softness, a daring sympathy ; an extravagance, producing by the nobleness of its object and the strange gentleness of its means, the grave and profound effect of the most reverend custom. We may suppose the scene taking place in the warm noon ; the doors all shut, the windows closed ; the Earl and his court serious and wondering ; the other inhabitants, many of them gushing with grateful tears, and all reverently listening to hear the footsteps of the horse : and lastly, the lady herself, with a downcast but not a shamefaced

* " Nuda," says Matthew of Westminster, " equum ascendens, crines capitis et tricas dissolvens, corpus suum totum, praeter crura candidissima, inde velavit." See Selden's Notes to the Polyolbion of Drayton : Song 13. It is Selden from whom we learn, that Leofric was Earl of Leicester, and the other particulars of him mentioned above. The Earl was buried at Coventry; his Countess most probably in the same tomb.

14 THE INDICATOR. [chap. v.

eye, looking towards the earth through her flowing locks, and riding through the dumb and deserted streets, like an angelic spirit.

It was an honorable superstition in that part of the country, that a man who ventured to look at the fair saviour of his native town, was said to have been struck blind. But the vulgar use to which this superstition has been turned by some writers of late times, is not so honorable. The whole story is as un vulgar and as sweetly serious as can be conceived.

Drayton has not made so much of this subject as might have been expected ; yet what he says is said well and earnestly :

-Coventry at length

From her small mean regard, recovered state and strength ; By Leofric her lord, yet in base bondage held, The people from her marts by tollage were expelled : Whose duchess which desired this tribute to release, Their freedom often begged. The duke, to make her cease, Told her, that if she would his loss so far enforce, His will was, she should ride stark naked upon a horse By daylight through the street : which certainly he thought In her heroic breast so deeply would have wrought, That in her former suit she would have left to deal. But that most princely dame, as one devoured with zeal, Went on, and by that mean the city clearly freed.

chap, vi.] MEMORIES OF THE METROPOLIS. 15

Chapter VI

Pleasant Memories connected with various parts of the Metropolis.

One of the best secrets of enjoyment is the art of cultivating pleasant associations. It is an art that of necessity increases with the stock of our knowledge ; and though in acquiring our knowledge we must encounter disagreeable associations also, yet if we secure a reasonable quantity of health by the way, these will be far less in number than the agreeable ones : for unless the circumstances which gave rise to the associations press upon us, it is only for want of health that the power of throwing off these burdensome images becomes suspended.

And the beauty of this art is, that it does not insist upon pleasant materials to work on. Nor indeed does health. Health will give us a vague sense of delight in the midst of objects that would teaze and oppress us during sickness. But healthy association peoples this vague sense with agreeable images. It will comfort us, even when a painful sympathy with the distresses of others becomes a part of the very health of our minds. For instance, we can never go through St. Giles's, but the sense of the extravagant inequalities in human condition presses more forcibly upon us ; and yet some pleasant images are at hand, even there, to refresh it. They do not displace the others so as to injure the sense of public duty which they excite ; they only serve to keep our spirits fresh for their task, and hinder them from running into desperation or hopelessness. In St. Giles's church lie Chapman, the earliest and best translator of Homer ; and Andrew Marvell, the wit and patriot, whose poverty Charles the Second could not bribe. We are sure to think of these two men, and of all the good and pleasure they have done to the world, as of the less happy objects about us. The steeple of the church itself, too, is a handsome one \ and there is a flock of pigeons in that neighbor