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himself to take the medicines he should prescribe for him. But Moliere, finding the doctor too hard for him, and not easily to be duped, refused them. His business, it seems, was to make a comical scene in exposing one of the learnedest men of his profession, as he had done the quacks. If this was his intention, Molie had as much malice as wit, which is only to be used to correct the viciousness and folly of men, pretending to knowledge, and not the arts themselves."

Thieving appears to have been carried on at Paris in a style of superior magnificence at this period,-a pick-pocket attended by four lacqueys in livery !

“ Knavery here is in perfection as with us, as dextrous cutpurses and pick-pockets. A pick-pocket came into the fair at night, extremely well clad, with four lacqueys in good liveries attending him. He was caught in the fact, and more swords were drawn in his defence than against him: but yet he was taken, and delivered into the hands of justice, which is here sudden, and no jest.

“ I was surprised at the impudence of a booth, which put out the pictures of some Indian beasts with hard names; and of four that were painted, I found but too, and those very ordinary ones, viz, a leopard and a raccoon. I asked the fellow, why he deceived the people, and whether he did not fear cudgelling in the end ? He answered with a singular confidence, that it was the painter's fault, that he had giveu the raccoon to paint to two masters, but both had mistaken the beast; but, however, (he said) though the pictures were not well designed, they did nevertheless serve to grace the booth, and bring him custom.”

Dr. Lister concludes his journey “ with an account of the gardens near Paris, and with some observations on the state of medical science in France,” which he represents as being “ in low condition and disesteem from the boundless confidence, and intruding of quacks, women, and monks.” During his residence at Paris, the doctor received a message from the Prince of Conti to attend bis son, and to bring with him “the late King Charles's drops.” Of this royal medicine we have the following account, with which we take leave of our ingenious traveller.

" Those drops were desired of me, by other persons of quality, as the Princess de Espinoy, the Duchess of Bouillon, Monsieur Serac, &c. and having bethought myself how my master, the late King Charles, had communicated them to me, and shewed me very obligingly the process himself, by carrying me alone with him into his laboratory at Whitehall, while it was distilling. Also, Mr. Chevins another iime shewed me the materials for the drops, in his apartment, newly brought in, in great quantity, that is, raw silk. I caused the drops to be made here. Also, I put Dr. Turnefort upon making of them, which he did in perfection, by distilling the finest raw silk he

could get. For my part, I was surprised at the experiment often repeated, having never tried it before. One pound of raw-silk yielded an incredible quantity of volatile salt, and, in proportion, the finest spirit I ever tasted; and that which recommends it is, that it is, when rectified, of a far more pleasant smell than that which comes from sal-ammoniac or hartshorn, and the salt refined and cohobated with any well-scented chemical oil, makes the king's sait, as it is used to be called. This my lord ambassador gave me leave to present in his name, and the doctor now supplies those which want. Silk, indeed, is nothing else but a dry jelly from the insect kind, and therefore

very cordial and stomachic, no doubt. The Arabians were wise, and knowing in the materia medica, have put it in their alkermes.

currences.

ART. VII.-The History of the Life of Thomas Ellwood; or, an

Account of his Birth, Education, &c., with divers Observations on his Life and Manners, when a Youth, and how he came to be convinced of the Truth, with his many Sufferings and Services for the same: also, several other remarkable Passages and Oc

Written by his own Hand. London, 1714. 8vo. The life of Thomas Ellwood presents a remarkable example of the virtues of benevolence, perseverance, and honesty, when alloyed with a large proportion of fanaticism. Ellwood, the friend and pupil of Milton, was one of the early Quakers; and, though he was not among the first to.“ receive the truth in the spirit,” he is one of the most distinguished ornaments, both in a literary, and a moral point of view, of their primitive history. His character is marked by all the mild and amiable traits of his sect; while it is not disfigured by the more violent indica-' tions of intolerant zeal of his contemporaries and predecessors in the spiritual faith of Fox. In him we find, as in most of his brethren, the most sacred feelings of honour, the most scrupulous adherence to their word, the most undaunted persistence in their notions of right and duty, joined with a lively and active spirit of benevolence. He, however, considered, that all he was called upon for, was to contribute his testimony in the way of suffering, and took no active measures against the steeplehouses of abomination, nor once raised his voice against the “dumb dogs” of the church in the profaned temples of the Lord. But he conscientiously adopted customs and opinions, odious to his connexions, and injurious to his worldly interest; and, in defence of his faith, submitted to every kind of indignity and injury. He endured persecution, without flinching a moment from the bold and manly, yet moderate and conciliatory, ex

pression of his tenets—imprisonment, poverty, neglect, and calumny, all and more, assailed him in their turns, without, for a moment, driving him from the path of the honourable and upright Christian. Though possessed of very considerable talents, and no despicable portion of learning, he received the irrational doctrines of the founder of his sect, with the same ardour, and maintained them with the same absurd reasoning as the most fanatical of his sect; yet, his long course does not appear to be stained by a single act of intolerance or bigotry, while, among his own sect, he supported, to a very advanced age, the high character of a wise and virtuous elder and counsellor. He wrote the memoirs of a great part of his life himself, which, independent of the many remarkable events characteristic of the time and the history of the Quakers which it affords, is well worthy of consideration, for the sake of contemplating the features of so fair and pure a character.

Thomas Ellwood was born at Crowell, a little country town in Oxfordshire, in the year 1639. His father was the proprietor of a small estate, and, under Cromwell, was in the commission of the peace. Being, from his office, under the necessity of maintaining, by his style of living and general appearance, the state of a magistrate, he seems to have considerably dilapidated his fortunes. When he sent his eldest son to Oxford, he was there, for the honour of the bench, entered as a gentleman-commoner. To support this piece of extravagance, the father was compelled to withdraw his second and youngest son Thomas, entirely from school. At home, Thomas, the future Quaker, appears to have spent his time in the usual idle amusements of the sons of country squires, though the sprightliness of his character, and the natural superiority of his intellect, raised him above the debauchery and grossness incidental to his situation.

When the civil war broke out, Mr. Ellwood removed his family to London; for, as he favoured the parliament side of the question, he judged bis country residence might prove inconveniently near one of the king's garrisons. While in London, Mr. Ellwood made an acquaintance with a Lady Springett, at that time the widow of Sir William Springett, who died in the parliament service; but, afterwards, married to Isaac Pennington, the eldest son of the alderman of that name. This accidental connexion determined the course of young Thomas Ellwood's life. For when the civil war was done, and both families, viz. that of Mr. Ellwood's and the Pennington's, had removed into the country, Mr. Ellwood took his son with him to pay his neighbours a visit at Chalfont, in Buckingham. The surprise of the visitors was exceedingly great, to find the whole aspect of the house changed. The most serious and

grave deportment was observed; the greetings were formal and peculiar; the fashionable mode of dress had been abandoned ; and a garb of peculiar simplicity and sobriety reigned in their stead. The Penningtons had turned to Quakers, even down to their little daughter, Guli, Thomas Ellwood's old playmate, with whom he used to ride in a child's coach in Lincoln's-InnFields ! So great a change, as he himself observes, from the debonair and courtly sort of behaviour, which we formerly found in them, to so strict a gravity, did not a little amuse us, and disappoint our expectations of a pleasant visit.” Being quite at a loss to account for the metamorphosis, the young man threw himself in the way of his old playmate, afterwards the wife of the celebrated William Penn, that he might demand an explanation. The account of his discomfiture is very amusing.

For my part I sought, and at length found means to cast myself into the company of the daughter, whom I found gathering some flowers in the garden, attended by her maid, who was also a quaker. But when I addressed myself to her after my accustomed manner, with intention to engage her in some discourse, which might introduce conversation, on the foot of our former acquaintance; though she treated me with a courteous mien; yet (as young as she was) the gravity of her look and behaviour struck such an awe upon me, that I found myself not so much master of myself, as to pursue any further converse with her. Wherefore, asking pardon for my boldness, in having intruded myself into her private walks, I withdrew, not without some disorder (as I thought at least) of mind.”

Some time after this, the visit was repeated by Mr. Ellwood, his son, and daughter; and during their stay at Mr. Pennington's, a “meeting” took place, at which Mr. Ellwood and his family attended. The famous Edward Burrough and James Nailor were present. Burrough spoke, and young Ellwood says, “ I drank in his words with desire; they not only answered my understanding, but warmed my heart with a certain heat, which I had not till then felt from the ministry of man." The business was done; when old Ellwood, and his son and daughter, were gone, Burrough, being asked what he thought of them, said : “as for the old man, he is settled on his lees, and the young woman is light and airy ; but the young man is reached, and may do well, if he do not lose it." Thomas observes himself, that, “ that which he said, or' rather the spirit in which he spake it, took such fast hold of me, that I felt sadness and trouble come over me, though I did not distinctly understand what I was troubled for. I knew not what I ailed, but I knew that I ailed something more than ordinary; and my heart was very heavy."

It was not long before he began, by means of a servant, to

make inquiries, if there were any“meetings" in the country about his father's house. He heard of one to be held at Higi Wycomb, and thither he went a distance of seven miles. That his object might not be suspected, he let his greyhound run by his horse's side, that it might appear that he was going a coursing. On arriving at Wycomb, he did not know at what house the meeting was held, and was ashamed to ask. At length, accident directed bim to the spot : he entered the room, and sat down among the elect in his black clothes, and with his sword by his side. After the meeting was over, he took his horse, rode off home, and succeeded in escaping the observation of his father; who, of course, if he had had any idea of his son's state, would have set himself vigorously about rescuing him from a conversion which, speaking in a wordly sense, would ensure his ruin. Ellwood thus speaks of this second meeting :

“This latter meeting was like the clinching of a nail; confirming and fastening in my mind those good principles which had sunk into me at the former. My understanding began to open, and I felt some stirrings in my breast, tending to the work of a new creation in me. The general trouble and confusion of mind, which had, for some days, lain heavy upon me, and pressed me down, without a distinct discovery of the particular cause from which it came, began now to wear off; and some glimmerings of light began to break forth in me,

which let me see my inward state and condition towards God. The light (which, before, had shone in my darkness, and the darkness could not comprehend it,) began now to shine out of darkness, and, in some measure, discovered to me what it was that had before clouded me, and brought that sadness and trouble upon me. And now I saw, that, although I had been, in a great degree, preserved from the common immoralities and gross pollutions of the world, yet the spirit of the world had hitherto ruled in me, and led me into pride, flattery, and superfluity; all which was naught. I found there were many plants growing in me, which were not of the Heavenly Father's planting; and that all these (of whatsoever sort or kind they were, or how specious soever they might appear,) must be plucked up.

“Now was all my former life reaped up, and my sins, by degrees, were set in order before me; and though they looked not with so black a hue, and so deep a dye, as those of the lewdest people did, yet I found that all sin (even that which had the fairest or finest show, as well as that which was more coarse and foul,) brought guilt, and, with and for guilt, condemnation on the soul that sinned. This I felt, and was greatly bowed down under the sense thereof.".

Now began the change in the outward man. The vanity and superfluity of apparel, in which, alas! he had taken too much delight, were discovered to be the fruits of pride; and these “evil doings he was required to put away and cease from, and judgment lay upon him till he did so.” Wherefore, in obe

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