Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Distinguishing Faces and Filth from Herbert Temples

...Open the bones, and you shall nothing find
In the best face but filth.  --G. Herbert


It's not a lot of fun studying George Herbert - but in The Temple he does elaborate upon the figure of the 'godly' courtier - opposing him to the 'worldly' courtier (where I would locate Oxford).  At the end of his life, Oxford must have again encountered many enemies at court in his pursuit of the Danvers lands. George Herbert, Henry Herbert (brilliant and very active Master of Revels for 50 years) and Edward Herbert Lord Chirbury were future stepsons to Sir John Danvers (marriage 1609) - brother to the executed Charles Danvers. The Earl of Southampton had a close relationship with the Danvers boys - sheltering Charles and Henry after their run in with the Long family around 1594. Apparently Charles Danvers even went to the extremity of declaring his dislike for Lord Grey on the scaffold - because he was 'ill-affected' to Lord Southampton.
These men are probably identifiable as part of Jonson's 'better race at court' mentioned in Cynthia's Revels.

I can find no evidence that Oxford was close to Southampton (other than the terse dedications). The dedication to Venus and Adonis recalls the charge of deformity that had been levelled at Oxford in Speculum Tuscanismi by Harvey - where Harvey described Oxford's deformities and suggested he should look to Sidney or Dyer for a worthier pattern/form. From all appearances Southampton was a Sidneian/Essexian - and my best guess is that Oxford dedicated the long poems to him not out of love but out of irritation. Oxfordian elegance and wit were attacked as painted surfaces without substance that relied upon shameless appeals to the 'eye' and the Sidneian/Essexian clan were similar to Ben Jonson in their ways of representing virtue - an accord between inner and outer, an abhorrence of 'seeming', with a weighty, measurable 'substance' being continually gestured at.
The dates of Herbert's The Temple are uncertain but I think that this may be the source of Heminges and Condell's rather acerbic allusion to the Herbert brothers as 'Temples'. (The godly courtier succeeds in turning away from worldly distractions shaping himself into a virtuous Temple.) Bit tricky when God's courtier has to choose whom he served - the absolute monarch or The Lord - and this contradiction would become violently relevant around say late 1640's when quite a few declared for God rather than King Charles. (Sir John Danvers signed the King's death warrant - Philip Herbert swung a bit but finally declared for Parliament. Essex's son led the Parliamentary army. Thomas Herbert supervised the King's imprisonment.)

The image of the godly courtier may also shed some light on the Troilus and Cressida epistle. Concupiscent Shakespeare/Oxford would have been politically incorrect. (Lady Anne Clifford - Philip Herbert's second wife omits Shakespeare from her Great Picture possibly as a sign of her election and judgement - and republican Milton identifies Shakespeare's Book as the 'closet companion' of the 'deceitful' King Charles during his incarceration.)
I have argued that Oxford sank his own fame - having been subject to decades of deformations of his own image - and that he was further assisted in this erasure by the Sidneys and Herberts. Perhaps even a royal amnesty of sorts in order to smooth over the disruptions that had occurred during the final years of Elizabeth's reign.
Yet remnants of forms do remain - signifying the argument between competing factions - how to represent Virtue the most virtuously? When all speak English and all are Royal Subjects then Style speaks.
For example, in Herbert's 'The Church-porch' the Venus and Adonis stanza reappears - reclaimed for virtue - purged of worldly Venusian content and deceitful Shakespearean metaphors - devoid of concupiscence and stuffed full of sententious, substantial (supposedly), plain spoken and  virtuous advice.

If reason move not Gallants, quit the room,
(All in a shipwrack shift their severall way)
Let not a common ruine thee intombe:
Be not a beast in courtesie; but stay,
Stay at the third cup, or forgo the place.
Wine above all things doth Gods stamp deface.
Writing the Flesh.. The Herbert Family Dialogue
Jeffrey Powers-Beck
As numerous and prolific as any ...early modern literary families were the Herberts of Montgomery and London. The family included the admired patroness Magdalen Herbert, Lady Danvers (circa 1561-1627), her second husband, Sir John Danvers (circa 1588-1655), a leading member of the Virginia Company and one of the first exponents of Italian gardening in England, and Magdalen's literary sons, the poet-priest George Herbert (1593-1633), the poet-philosopher Edward, Lord Herbert of Cherbury (circa 1581-1648), the Master of the Revels Sir Henry Herbert (1594-1673), the Oxford scholar Charles Herbert (circa 1592-1617), and the obscure sailor-poet Thomas Herbert (1597-before 1643). John Donne sometimes visited the Danvers House in Chelsea...(p.2)

 Essex's letter to Southampton (not published until 1642) testifies to Essex's volte face - this most worldly of courtiers signs off as a man who has been reborn to Christ (or at least repositioned).
 My Lord,
AS neither nature nor custome ever made me a man of complement, so now I shall have lesse will than ever for to use such Ceremonies, when I have left with Martha to be solicitus circa multa, and believe with Mary, unum sufficit: but it is no complement or Ceremony, but a reall and necessary duty that one friend oweth to another in absence & especially at their seave taking, when in mans reason many accidents may keep them long divided, or perhaps barre them ever meeting till they meet in another world; for then shall I thinke that my friend, whose honour, whose Person, and whose fortune is deare unto me, shall prosper and be happy where ever he goes, and what ever he takes in hand when he is in the favour of that God, under whose protection there is onely safety, and in whose service there is onely true happinesse to be found. What I thinke of your naturall gifts or abilities in this age, or in this State, to give glory to God, and to winne honour to your selfe, if you imploy the Talents you have received to their best use, I will not now tell you, it sufficeth, that when I was farthest of all times from dissembling, I spake truly, and have witnes enough: but these things only I will put your Lordships in mind of.

First, that you have nothing that you have not received.

Secondly, that you possesse them not as Lord over them, but as an accomptant for them.

Thirdly, If you imploy them to serve this world, or your own worldly delights, (which the Prince of this world will seek to entertain you with) it is ingratitude, it is injustice, yea it is perfidious treacherie. For what would you thinke of such a servant of yours, that should convert your goods committed to his charge, to the advantage or service of your greatest enemy; & what do you lesse than this with God, since you have all from him, and know that the world, and Prince thereof, are at a continuall enmity with him? 

I was longer a slave and servant to the world and the corruptions of it. then you have bin, and therefore could hardlyer be drawn from it. I had many calls, and answered some of them slowly; thinking a soft pace fast enough to come to Christ and my selfe forward enough when I saw the end of my journy, though I arrived not at it, and therefore I have been by Gods providence violently pul'd, hal'd, and drag'd to the Marriage Feast as the world hath seen. It was just with God to afflict me in this world that he might give me joy in another. I had too much knowledge when I performed too little obedience, and was therefore to be beaten with double stripes: God grant your Lordship may feel the comfort I now enjoy in my unfaigned conversion, but that you never feele the torments I have suffered for my too long delaying it; I had none but Divines to call upon me, to whom I said, if my ambition could have entred into their narrow hearts, they would not have bin so humble; or if my delights had bin tasted by them, they could not have been so precise: but your Lordship hath one to call upon you, that knowes what it is you now injoy, & what the greatest fruit and end is of all the contentments that this world can afford. Thinke therefore deare Earl, that I have staked & bounded all the waies of pleasure to you, & left them as Sea markes for you to keep the Channell of religious virtue; for, shut your eyes never so long they must be open at last, and then you must say with me, there is no peace to the wicked. I will make a Covenant with my Soul, not to suffer my eyes to sleep in the night, nor my thoughts to attend the first busines of the day, till I have prayed to my God, that your Lordship may believe and make profit of this plaine, but faithfull admonition; and then I know your Countrey and friends shall be happy in you, and Your self successefull in all you take in hand; which shall be an unspeakeable comfort to

Your Lordships Cousin and true friend, whom no world
ly cause can divide from you ESSEX. 

But to return to Herbert and opening the bones to find nothing but filth. Recovering the English Sonnet form for the virtuous, young George writes to his mother Magdalene:
From The Life of Mr. George Herbert
by Izaak Walton
...in Cambridge we may find our George Herbert’s behaviour to be such, that we may conclude he consecrated the firstfruits of his early age to virtue, and a serious study of learning. And that he did so, this following Letter and Sonnet, which were, in the first year of his going to Cambridge, sent his dear Mother for a New-year’s gift, may appear to be some testimony.
– "But I fear the heat of my late ague hath dried up those springs, by which scholars say the Muses use to take up their habitations. However, I need not their help to reprove the vanity of those many love-poems, that are daily writ, and consecrated to Venus; nor to bewail that so few are writ, that look towards God and Heaven. For my own part, my meaning dear Mother—is, in these Sonnets, to declare my resolution to be, that my poor abilities in Poetry, shall be all and ever consecrated to God’s glory: and I beg you to receive this as one testimony."

My God, where is that ancient heat towards thee,

Wherewith whole shoals of martyrs once did burn,

Besides their other flames? Doth poetry
Wear Venus' livery? only serve her turn?
Why are not sonnets made of thee? and lays
Upon thine altar burnt? Cannot thy love
Heighten a spirit to sound out thy praise
As well as any she? Cannot thy Dove
Outstrip their Cupid easily in flight?
Or, since thy ways are deep, and still the fame,
Will not a verse run smooth that bears thy name!
Why doth that fire, which by thy power and might
Each breast does feel, no braver fuel choose
Than that, which one day, worms may chance refuse.
Sure Lord, there is enough in thee to dry
Oceans of ink; for, as the Deluge did
Cover the earth, so doth thy Majesty:
Each cloud distills thy praise, and doth forbid
Poets to turn it to another use.
Roses and lilies speak thee; and to make
A pair of cheeks of them, is thy abuse
Why should I women's eyes for crystal take?
Such poor invention burns in their low mind
Whose fire is wild, and doth not upward go
To praise, and on thee, Lord, some ink bestow.
Open the bones, and you shall nothing find
In the best face but filth; when Lord, in thee
The beauty lies in the discovery. 
SurFaces, Filth and Unworthyness:
 Greville (Recorder of Stratford-upon-Avon)  - Life of Sidney
Neither am I (for my part) so much in love with this life, nor believe so little in a better to come, as to complain of God for taking him [Sidney], and such like exorbitant WORTHYness from us: fit (as it were by an Ostracisme) to be divided, and not incorporated with our corruptions: yet for the sincere affection I bear to my Prince, and Country, my prayer to God is, that this WORTH, and Way may not fatally be buried with him; in respect, that both before his time, and since,experience hath published the usuall discipline of greatnes to have been tender of it self onely; making honour a triumph, or rather TROPHY of desire, set up in the eyes of Mankind, either to be worshiped as IDOLS, or else as Rebels to perish under her glorious oppressions. Notwithstanding, when the PRIDE of FLESH, and power of favour shall cease in these by death, or disgrace; what then hath time to register, or FAME to publish in these great mens names, that will not be offensive, or infectious to others? What Pen without BLOTTING can write the story of their deeds? Or what Herald blaze their Arms without a blemish? And as for their counsels and projects, when they come once to light, shall they not live as noysome, and loathsomely above ground, as their Authors carkasses lie in the grave? So as the return of such greatnes to the world, and themselves, can be but private reproach, publique ill example, and a fatall scorn to the Government they live in. Sir Philip Sidney is none of this number; for the greatness which he affected was built upon true WORTH; esteeming Fame more than Riches, and Noble actions far above Nobility it self.

Monday, August 11, 2014

Notions in Garrison - An Oxfordian Commonplace Blog

1642 FULLER: A Common-place-book contains many notions in garrison, whence the owner may draw out an army into the field.


Origin of GARRISON

Middle English garisoun protection, from Anglo-French garisun healing, protection, from garir to heal, protect, of Germanic origin; akin to Old High German werien to defend — more at weir
First Known Use: 15th century
 It may seem odd that a word for a military installation derives from a verb meaning "to heal," but it's true: "garir," the root of "garrison," means "to heal." The medieval French verb also meant "to protect," since medicines that heal you also protect you from disease, and it was probably this sense that gave rise to the medieval English word "garisoun," meaning "protection." "Protection" led to the meaning "stronghold," which was soon applied to a military post. "Garrison" first entered English in the 15th century.

Origin of the name Edward:

Derived from the Old English Eadweard (wealthy or fortunate guardian), a compound name composed of the elements ēad (prosperity, wealth) and weard (guardian, protector). Edward is a royal name, having been borne by three Anglo-Saxon kings and eight kings of England.


In the article “Extraordinary Commonplaces,” Robert Darnton explains how keeping such a commonplace book changed the nature of reading for early autodidacts (and how it can change the way you read today):
“Time was when readers kept commonplace books. Whenever they came across a pithy passage, they copied it into a notebook under an appropriate heading, adding observations made in the course of daily life. . . It involved a special way of taking in the printed word. . .They broke texts into fragments and assembled them into new patterns by transcribing them in different sections of their notebooks. Then they reread the copies and rearranged the patterns while adding more excerpts. Reading and writing were therefore inseparable activities. They belonged to a continuous effort to make sense of things, for the world was full of signs: you could read your way through it; and by keeping an account of your readings, you made a book of your own, one stamped with your personality.” (The New York Review of Books, 2000)


Added August 3 2018

The Princeton encyclopedia of poetry and poetics
Hornsby, RA

Commonplacing is a mode of cultural transmission that allows for the deracination and reframing of authority. (snip) Commonplace books were important tools for managing the flood of print that began to emerge from the popular press. Early modern printed play texts, including the first quareo of Hamlet (1603), often indicated lines fit for copying by placing commas or inverted commas at the beginning of the line.

Saturday, August 2, 2014

Imposture and Castigating the Noble Patrons of the Theatre

 Author: Salvian, of Marseilles, ca. 400-ca. 480.
Title: A second and third blast of retrait from plaies and theaters the one whereof was sounded by a reuerend byshop dead long since; the other by a worshipful and zealous gentleman now aliue: one showing the filthines of plaies in times past; the other the abhomination of theaters in the time present: both expresly prouing that that common-weale is nigh vnto the cursse of God, wherein either plaiers be made of, or theaters maintained. Set forth by Anglo-phile Eutheo.
Date: 1580


A third blast of retrait from plaies and Theaters, showing the abhomination of them in the time present.



...The Magistrate is therefore to prouide in time a remedie to re|dresse the mischiefes that are like to ensue by this common plague.  They which gouerne the state are to trie, and decerne each cause, that they appeare not to deale vnadui|sedlie. They are to be diligent to finde out the truth of things; and when a matter is knowen of them to be euil, it is their part to re|forme it; otherwise by negligence they shal run into the displeasure of God.
The Magistrates hart must be as the hart of a Lion.  He is not to shrinke in the Lordes cause, or to stand in feare to reforme abuses of the Common-weale, because of some particular men of auctoritie.
He must haue both stoutnes, and constancie to represse euil. And then doubtles the Lord wil blesse them in their enterprises. Let not therefore the intercession of the mightie mooue the Magistrate to staic his sworde from doing iustice on the wicked. The parcialitie which is vsed in these daies for fauor, makes these yonkers to become bolder by rea|son of those liberties which are granted them. They vphold them|selues by the countenance of their maisters: as if their auctoritie were a warrant sufficient for them to do euil, and to beare them out against good orders.
Let not the abuse of the Sab|both proceede further and further, and in the meane while the iudge be a looker on, daring not for feare to reforme their disorder til al be
out of order.  Alas, that priuate af|fection should so raigne in the NOBILITIE, that to pleasure, as they thinke, their seruants, and to vp|hold them in their vanitie, they should restraine the Magistrates from executing their office! what credite can returne to the NOBLE, to countenance his men to exercise that qualitie which is not suffer|able in anie Common-weale? wher|as it was an ancient custome, that no man of Honor should reteine anie man, but such as was excel|lent in some one good qualitie or other, whereby if occasion so ser|ued, he might get his owneliuing? Then was euerie noble mans house a Common-weale in it selfe: but since the reteining of these Cater|pillers, the credite of NOBLE MEN hath decaied, and; they are thought to be couetous by permitting their
seruants,  which cannot liue of themselues, and whome for neerenes they wil not maintaine, to liue at the deuotion or almes of other men, passing from countrie to countrie, from one Gentlemans house to another, offering their seruice, which is a kind of begge|rie. Who in deede, to speake more trulie, are become beggers for their seruants. For commonlie the good|wil men beare to their Lordes, makes them drawe the stringes of their purses to extend their libera|litie to them; where otherwise they would not. By such infamous persons much time is lost; and manie daies of ho|nest trauel are turned into vaine exercises. Wherein is learned no|thing but abuse; poore men liuing on their handie labor, are by them trained vnto vnthriftines; scholers
by their gaudes are allured from their studies. Thus the people are robbed; youth corrupted; the Sabboth pro|phaned; and of al these euils, who are counted the vpholders but the NOBLE, who of right should esta|blish the lawe of the Roman Tra|iane,  who commanded that no plaier, iester, nor iugler should be admitted in his Common-weale to pick the purses of his subiects, but that they should either learne some occupation to mainteine themselues in their owne houses, or otherwise be banished out of Rome. But now such like men, vn|der the title of their maisters or as reteiners, are priuiledged to roaue abroad, and permitted to publish their mametree in euerie Temple of God,  and that throughout En|gland, vnto the horrible contempt
of praier. So that now the San|ctuarie is become a plaiers stage, and a den of theeues and adulte|rers.

The writers of our time are so led awaie with vaineglorie,  that their onlie endeuor is to pleasure the humor of men; and; rather with vanitie to content their mindes, than to profit them with good en|sample. The NOTABLEST LIER is be|come the best Poet; he that can make the most NOTORIOUS LIE, and disguise falshood in such sort, that he maie passe vnperceaued, is held the best writer. For the strangest Comedie brings greatest delecta|tion, and pleasure. Our nature is led awaie with vanitie, which the auctor perceauing frames himself with nouelties and strange trifles
to content the vaine humors of his rude auditors, faining coun|tries neuer heard of; monsters and prodigious creatures that are not: as of the Arimaspie, of the Grips, the Pigmeies, the Cranes, & other such notorious lies. And if they write of histories that are knowen, as the life of Pompeie; the martial affaires of Caesar, and other wor|thies, they giue them a newe face, and turne them out like counter|feites to showe themselues on the stage. It was therefore aptlie ap|plied of him,  who likened the wri|ters of our daies vnto TAILORS, who hauing their sheers in their hand, can alter the facion of anie thing into another forme, and; with a new face make that seeme new which is old. The shreds of whose curio|sitie our Historians haue now sto|len from them, being by practise
become as cunning as the TAILOR to set a new vpper bodie to an old coate; and a patch of their owne to a peece of anothers. So that yee shal find in al their writings three differences,  manie things good, manie things indiffe|rent, and manie strake naught: but by reason that thing which is good is applied vnto il purpose, and; mixed with euil, the good hath changed propertie, and is become of the nature of the bad. Other|wise goodnes & badnes, being two co~traries, cannot be made to agree together. And therefore there can be no difference of choice, but al must be euil: because it is general|lie il applied, and by altering pro|pertie, hath changed his nature. Yet neuertheles that it keepeth his virtue, of being good, and reduced to his proper substance.

Carlyle, Sartor Resartus - The Tailor Re-tailored

Carlyle -- All visible things are emblems; what thou seest is not there on its own account; strictly taken, is not there at all: Matter exists only spiritually, and to represent some Idea, and body it forth. Hence Clothes, as despicable as we think them, are so unspeakably significant. Clothes, from the King's mantle downwards, are emblematic, not of want only, but of a manifold cunning Victory over Want. On the other hand, all Emblematic things are properly Clothes, thought-woven or hand-woven: must not the Imagination weave Garments, visible Bodies, wherein the else invisible creations and inspirations of our Reason are, like Spirits, revealed, and first become all-powerful; the rather if, as we often see, the Hand too aid her, and (by wool Clothes or otherwise) reveal such even to the outward eye? "Men are properly said to be clothed with Authority, clothed with Beauty, with Curses, and the like. Nay, if you consider it, what is Man himself, and his whole terrestrial Life, but an Emblem; a Clothing or visible Garment for that divine ME of his, cast hither, like a light-particle, down from Heaven? Thus is he said also to be clothed with a Body.
Language is called the Garment of Thought: however, it should rather be, Language is the Flesh-Garment, the Body, of Thought. I said that Imagination wove this Flesh-Garment; and does not she? Metaphors are her stuff: examine Language; what, if you except some few primitive elements (of natural sound), what is it all but Metaphors, recognized as such, or no longer recognized; still fluid and florid, or now solid-grown and colorless? If those same primitive elements are the osseous fixtures in the Flesh-Garment, Language, — then are Metaphors its muscles and tissues and living integuments. An unmetaphorical style you shall in vain seek for: is not your very Attention a Stretching-to? The difference lies here: some styles are lean, adust, wiry, the muscle itself seems osseous; some are even quite pallid, hunger-bitten and dead-looking; while others again glow in the flush of health and vigorous self-growth, sometimes (as in my own case) not without an apoplectic tendency. Moreover, there are sham Metaphors, which overhanging that same Thought's-Body (best naked), and deceptively bedizening, or bolstering it out, may be called its false stuffings, superfluous show-cloaks (Putz-Mante), and tawdry woollen rags: whereof he that runs and reads may gather whole hampers,—and burn them. ["Prospective, Book I, Chapter 11, 56-57]

Jonson, Timber

Mali choragi fuere.

257 It is an Art to have so much judgement, as to apparell a Lye well, to
258 give it a good dressing; that though the nakednesse would shew deform'd
259 and odious, the suiting of it might draw their Readers. Some love any
260 Strumpet (be shee never so shop-like, or meritorious) in good clothes.
261 But these nature could not have form'd them better, to destroy their
262 owne testimony; and over-throw their calumny.
The Disease of the Age:

 Jonson, Timber

am litteræ sordent. Pastus hodier. Ingen.

229 The time was, when men would learne, and study good things; not
230 envie those that had them. Then men were had in price for learning:
231 now, letters onely make men vile. Hee is upbraydingly call'd a Poet,
232 as if it were a most contemptible Nick-name. But the Professors (indeed)
233 have made the learning cheape. Rayling, and tinckling Rimers, whose
234 Writings the vulgar more greedily reade; as being taken with the scur-
235 rility, and petulancie of such wits. Hee shall not have a Reader now,
236 unlesse hee jeere and lye. It is the food of mens natures: the diet of the
237 times! Gallants cannot sleepe else. The Writer must lye, and the gen-
238 tle Reader rests happy, to heare the worthiest workes mis-interpreted;
239 the clearest actions obscured: the innocent'st life traduc'd; And in such
240 a licence of lying, a field so fruit-full of slanders, how can there be matter
241 wanting to his laughter? Hence comes the Epidemicall Infection. For
{{Page 92}}
242 how can they escape the contagion of the Writings, whom the virulen-
243 cy of the calumnies hath not stav'd off from reading.

{{Topic 47}} {{Subject: the disease of the age}}

Sed seculi morbus.

244 Nothing doth more invite a greedy Reader, then an unlook'd for subject.
245 And what more unlook'd for, then to see a person of an unblam'd life,
246 made ridiculous, or odious, by the Artifice of lying? but it is the disease
247 of the Age: and no wonder if the world, growing old, begin to be in-
248 firme: Old age it selfe is a disease. It is long since the sick world be-
249 gan to doate, and talke idly: Would she had but doated still; but her
250 dotage is now broke forth into a madnesse, and become a meere phrency.

 Francis Beaumont.

To my dear Friend,
Upon his FOX.

IF it might stand with Justice, to allow
the swift conversion of all follies; now,
Such is my Mercy, that I could admit
All sorts should equally approve the wit
Of this thy even work: whose growing fame
Shall raise thee high, and thou it, with thy name.
And did not manners, and my love command
Me to forbear to make those understand,
Whom thou, perhaps, hast in thy wiser doom
Long since, firmly resolv'd, shall never come
To know more than they do; I would have shown
To all the World, the Art, which thou alone
Hast taught our Tongue, the rules of time, of place,
And other rites, deliver'd, with the grace
Of Comick stile, which only, is far more,
than any English Stage hath known before.
But, since our subtile Gallants think it good
To like of nought, that may be understood,
Lest they should be disprov'd; or have, at best,
Stomachs so raw, that nothing can digest
But what's obscene, or barks: Let us desire
They may continue, simply, to admire
FINE CLOTHS, and STRANGE WORDS; and may live, in Age,
To see themselves ill brought upon the Stage,
And like it. Whilst thy bold, and knowing Muse
Contemns all praise, but such as thou wouldst chuse.


Third Blast con't.,

I do not denie, but that writers inal their workes maie be plea|sant, so far forth as they be profi|table, and swarue not from hone|stie, and therein deserue commen|dation. But what praise maie they deserue who set forth those works which are vaine and naught, and conteine in them no matter of good example, who write of those things, which may corrupt the life of men, thereby making them worse by ten to one, than they were before they heard them? What doe they leaue behind them? monumentes of wanton wicked life, and doting things for men of these latter daies. O Lord, how do those· wanton wordes of theirs intice vnto wicked life, and with a poisoned baite allure men to sinne! Their wanton speeches do pearse our secret thoughts, and
moue vs thereby vnto mischiefe, and prouoke our members to vn|cleannes. But some perhaps wil saie,  The NOBLE MAN delighteth in such things, whose humors must be contented, partlie for feare, and; part|lie for commoditie: and if they write matters pleasant, they are best preferred in court among the cunning heads.
Cunning heads, whose wits are neuer wel exercised, but in the pra|ctise of such exploits! But are those things to be suffered and praised,  because they please the rich, and content the NOBLE MAN, that al|waies liues in ease? not so. A two legged Asse maie be clothed in gold, a man of honor maie be cor|rupt of iudgement, though by his auctoritie he maie seeme wiser than Socrates, whome Phoebus for
wisedome iudged to beare the bel. Those goodlie persons, if they be voide of virtue, maie wel be coun|ted like faire clothes ouer a foule wal; big bladers ful of wind, yet of no waight. Where wealth is abun|dant, pleasure is present: pleasure bringeth folie into estimation; and thereby the light of reason is vt|terlie extinguished. Who writeth for reward,  nei|ther regardeth virtue, nor truth; but runs vnto falshood, because he flattereth for commoditie. Neede and flatterie are two brothers, and the eldest seruitors in the Court: they were both scholers vnto Ari|stippus, and learned both of them to applie themselues to the time, amd; their matter to the disposition? No maruel then though none can please Dionysius but Aristippus, nor anie the courtier but the flatterer.

The rich that followeth the plea|sures of this life,  maie not abide to be reformed, or to be drawen away from his desires, be they neuer so wicked and vnseemelie. Talke to him of amendement, he wil saie, he is not dieng. He that repre|hends him, is a Preacher; he that sooths him, is a Saint. Who med|dels with nettles cannot passe vn|stinged: and he that deales with men of auctoritie otherwise than maie like them, cannot scape from his danger without hurt. I maie not staie longer on this point.
Transcendental Buffoonery: Jacob Dousterswivel and the Romantic Irony of Blackwood's
Scalia, Christopher

2. Dousterswivel's Theory of Imposture
A testament to the slipperiness of the Dousterswivel hoax is that the most comprehensive bibliography of Blackwood's, Alan Strout's A Bibliography of Articles in "Blackwood's Magazine, " conjectures that its author is Lockhart, based on the fact that he "would logically review German works" - a valid statement that unfortunately assumes the piece is a legitimate review of an actual German work.1'' Strout was so convinced of the review's authenticity that he cites it in a 1954 study of German literature in British periodicals. Moreover, Brian Murray's two supplements to Strout's Bibliography correct three entries from the 1822 volume of Blackwood's, but not the entry for the Dousterswivel review.2" Since then, the piece has escaped scholarly attention despite the recent emergence of critical interest in Blackwood's.21
The Dousterswivel hoax merits attention because, while incorporating the ironic features of preceding Blackwood's self-defenses, it functions as a mature apologia for the intellectual merits of the journal's slippery and unorthodox style. The "review" has two major purposes, purposes that are not necessarily contradictory but are certainly disparate. On the one hand, Dousterswivel's writing - particularly his inept use of metaphorical language - satirizes abstract German philosophy, a fairly common practice in the early decades of the nineteenth century; David Simpson notes that during the 1820S, criticisms of German culture often "took the form of complaints against confusion and difficulty. "" Yet Blackwood's more typically treated German literature seriously; Bayard Quincy Morgan and A. R. Hohlfeld call it "the most helpful of all British magazines in the introduction of German literature."23 Perhaps this frequently serious treatment of German literature contributed to the humor and deception of the Dousterswivel hoax: even familiar readers would not have been expecting the magazine to satirize German thought. (But then, as its critics were happy to point out, consistency was never high on the list of editorial priorities at Blackwood's.)
The mock review, comprising observations from the reviewer and excerpts from Dousterswivel's supposed work, begins with the reviewer's acknowledgement that the book has drawn controversy: "We are well enough aware of what has been said of the harshness of style in this publication - but really, after all that has been complained of, we do not see reason why any person should view the matter with exasperated feelings." This reference to an existing conversation about Dousterswivel's work helps create the illusion of the book's reality; but the defense of Dousterswivel's "harshness of style" could just as easily apply to Blackwood's itself a double-meaning underscored by the vague reference to "this publication," thus intimating a correspondence between the fake philosophical text and Maga that becomes more evident as the review develops. The reviewer defends Dousterswivel's thinking by praising his sharp application of the abstract to the concrete. Acknowledging that Dousterswivel's later chapters "may give offence," he argues that they are nonetheless valuable because they apply "metaphysical ideas to particular instances"; the reviewer also praises Dousterswivel "for the closeness and firmness of apprehension with which he retains an abstract idea, which he has once understood, and goes on pursuing it through different instances."24 Yet as becomes clear through the excerpts, Dousterswivel's application of the abstract to the particular merely amounts to a litany of disconnected metaphors.
Dousterswivel's clumsiness with metaphors is clear in the large excerpt from the book's first chapter, titled "On the Original Idea of Imposture." Dousterswivel uses figurative language to illustrate the useful claim that "The original idea of imposture ... is, that the interior object is not the same with the exterior, but is covered and concealed by it, and from hence comes deception to the spectator" (68 1). Few of his metaphors are inherently absurd; the humor relies on their sheer volume and frequent inconsistency. For example, Dousterswivel calls imposture's act of concealment "the origin of hypocrisy, which wears a mask, separate from that which is within," then abruptly shifts to a more pungent image:
The outer parts of an onion, concealing the inner part, present a good image of hypocrisy. And the onion, when cut across, to shew what is within, exemplifies the detection of imposture. Such are the forms of imposture, when external appearances are used as the means of deceiving the spectator.25 (681)
The metaphors of the mask and the onion elucidate the function of imposture because in both cases the exterior hides a distinctly different interior. Yet Dousterswivel soon obscures these figures with a new comparison: "the person who is imposed on is like the interior object which is overreached and taken in; while the imposter is like the serpent called the Constricter, which gets round about the animal it wants to kill" (68 1). Whereas at the outset of his explanation, the "interior object" was the true character of the imposture or hypocrite, Dousterswivel now has it represent the person being imposed upon and deceived. The same metaphorical vehicle thus stands for sharply opposed tenors, both the impostor and the victim of imposture.
Readers tempted to admire this maneuver as a nuanced use of metaphor are quickly dissuaded when, over the next half page, Dousterswivel also likens imposture to (in order of appearance): "the act of wearing a mask" (again), "ivy, and other climbing plants," "The Pharisees," "death," "man . . . completely overgrown with ivy" (a second time), "the onion" (again), "the Pharisees [again] or Round-heads," "The whirlpool of the ocean," "The hog" (which only "appears a large animal; but when cut across, it presents a form like that of the onion" - again), "death" (again), "The pileus, or hat of Mercury," and "the skull" (681). Although none of these examples is an inaccurate or unhelpful illustration of the definition of imposture (perhaps with the exception of the hog), one gets the sense that Dousterswivel could make anything represent imposture. (It is surprising, then, that he omits the clear connection between imposture and metaphor itself, a device that imposes one object upon another.) When Dousterswivel proclaims that "the conceptions I have here brought together are for the purpose of making the abstract form of imposture clearly intelligible," and when the reviewer praises Dousterswivel's "laborious simplicity and faithfulness of expression," the joke should be clear: Dousterswivel's conceptions confuse rather than clarify; his metaphors are laborious, not simple; his expressions are promiscuous, not faithful (681-82).
Yet the phony philosopher also articulates a coherent defense of Blackwood's' style, arguing that its jokes are not dangerous impostures but valuable exercises that train readers to recognize and protect themselves against hypocrisy and fraud; the magazine's mystifications, hoaxes, and quizzes develop the ability of its audience to think critically and act appropriately. In the excerpts from a chapter titled "On the Relation of Jesting to Imposture," Dousterswivel claims that what he alternately calls "jesting" and "ridicule" is an important and practical act because it "has most frequently been used in detecting imposture." What makes this detection possible is the similarity between ridicule and imposture. Just as imposture involves a false exterior covering a distinct interior, the "ridiculous" is often "the discovery of dissimilar things continued under one form." Similarly, a pun "contains two dissimilar meanings, and the word by which they are expressed implies both." Yet an imposture and a pun imply different levels of awareness: the former requires the ignorance of the one imposed upon, while a pun is funny only if the double meaning is understood, and is thus "not an imposition on the hearer. . . . [J]esting is the same thing as imposture perceived and understood; or, in other words, it is the knowledge of different things contained under one outward form." To underscore the similarity between jesting and imposture, Dousterswivel deploys the by-now familiar metaphor of the onion, which "becomes, when cut across, the symbol of jesting, and of imposture detected" (682).
Theoretically, then, the liberties taken by Blackwood's are not deceptions but exercises that require and develop valuable intellectual skills. The ability to recognize distinct forms in a joke trains people to recognize imposture, "and, therefore, persons who have a taste for the ludicrous are the best for dealing with impostors." On the other hand, if "the intellectual character of jesting is the perpetual detection of difference," its opposite is a dull consistency, or "the contemplation of species passing unchanged from one object to another, [which) tranquilizes the mind, and sooths its anxiety, by the assurance of a permanent sameness" (682). Dousterswivel warns that this "perpetual renewal of the same thing causes a drowsiness, which is easily over-reached" (682). By this logic, the astute reader of Blackwood's, the reader who gets the magazine's jokes, develops a sharp mind capable of detecting imposture and hypocrisy in the real world, while a mind sedated by sameness and continuity is vulnerable to imposture. If these excerpts do not adequately establish the connection between the theories of Dousterswivel and the methods of Blackwood's, the reviewer draws it to our attention when he explains why he was "delighted in perusing" the chapter's defense of ridicule and jesting: "We remembered how much we have victoriously effected in the manner here described; as many a one as now vainly attempting to patch up again the pieces of his broken mask can testify" (682). As this praise suggests, Dousterswivel's supposed Theory of Imposture aptly expresses the purpose behind the magazine's jesting, which is to shatter hypocrisy and unmask dangerous imposture. This argument for the value of jesting and ridicule echoes Giles Middlestitch's concession, quoted above, that rhetorical irony can flush out "dullness and pedantry . . . folly or presumption," but where Middlestitch functioned to make John Scott's arguments sound foolish, Dousterswivel represents a cosmopolitan source of credibility for the magazine's methods.2''


  ...In the excerpts from a chapter titled "On the Relation of Jesting to Imposture," Dousterswivel claims that what he alternately calls "jesting" and "ridicule" is an important and practical act because it "has most frequently been used in detecting imposture." What makes this detection possible is the similarity between ridicule and imposture. Just as imposture involves a false exterior covering a distinct interior, the "ridiculous" is often "the discovery of dissimilar things continued under one form."-- Christopher Scalia

Droeshout - figuring Shakespearean abuses/Cutting a ridiculous figure/discovery of dissimilar things continued under one form/figure.

 Punishing Irregular Wit:
  ...So extream was the folly of those Irre|gular Heads, who deserved not only to be pointed at for their insufferable Vanity, but likewise to be severely punish't for daring to thrust upon the World at this rate these flat un|truths... 
I conceive then the Art of Translating to be like unto that of Portraying. He is a very mean Painter, who can but represent the meer Lineaments, and external Shape of a Mans Face. The chief Secret of this Art consists in draw|ing to life the very Soul it self; I mean, in representing the very Air, Temper, Humour and Complection. For a Man is not drawn to Life, un|less the most habitual indisposition of his Soul shine in the Piece. (A Discourse of Wit, David Abercromby, 1678)

Jonson, Timber

Veritas proprium hominis.
436 Truth is mans proper good; and the onely immortall thing, was given
437 to our mortality to use. No good Christian, or Ethnick, if he be honest,
438 can misse it: no States-man, or Patriot should. For without truth all the
439 Actions of man-kind, are craft, malice, or what you will, rather
440 then Wisdome. Homer sayes, hee hates him worse then hell-mouth,
441 that utters one thing with his tongue, and keepes another in his brest.
442 Which high expression was grounded on divine Reason. For a lying mouth
443 is a stinking pit, and murthers with the contagion it venteth. Beside, no-
444 thing is lasting that is fain'd; it will have ANOTHER FACE then it had, ere
445 long: As Euripides saith, No lye ever growes old.
 Bolton, Hypercritica
Among the greatest wants in our ancient Authours, are the wants of Art and Style, which as they add to the lustre of the Works and Delights of the Reader; yet add they nothing to the Truth; which they so esteemed, as they seem to have regarded nothing else. For without Truth, Art and Style come into the Nature of Crimes by IMPOSTURE. It is an act of high Wisdom, and not of Eloquence only, to write the History of so great, and noble a People as the Englsih. for the Causes of things are not only wonderfully wrapt one within the other, but place oftentimes far above the ordinary Reach's of human Wit; and he who relates Events, without their Premisses and Circumstances, deserves not the name of an Historian; as being like to him who numbers the Bones of a Man anatomized, or presenteth unto us the Bare Skeleton, without declaring the Nature of the Fabrick or teaching the Use of Parts. (Bolton, Hypercritica)


 Antoine Berman

A.W. Schlegel and Tieck, for example, translate Shakespeare faithfully but, as Rudolf Pannwitz has said, without going far enough 'to render the majestic barbarism of Shaekspearean verse' [Pannwitz 1947:192]. This barbarism in Shakespeare that refers to things obscene, scatalogical, bloody, overblown...in short, to a series of verbal abuses...are aspects that the classical romantic German translation attempts to attenuate. It backs down, so to speak, before the Gorgon's face that is hidden in every great work. (Berman 1985: 93)



Thus the epigram "On Something, that Walks Somewhere" (Epigrams XI)equates "brave" or ostentatious dress with the activity of "SEEMING" good, substantial and duly paternal -- namely, "a statesman" (1-2).This configuration of effects or signs typifies the presumptive courtier and fashionable man-about-town in such satires as "On the New Motion," "On Don Surly," "To Mime," or supremely "On the Town's Honest Man," one of Jonson's attacks on Inigo Jones, the author of "shows, shows, mighty shows" ("An Expostulation with Inigo Jones" [39]). And because they commit this fraud to acquire illegitimate status and power (an argument usually taken up in the verse epistles like "To a Friend, to Persuade Him to the Wars" [Underwoods XV]), the effeminate invariably break the grand taboo of insurgency against the status quo, in the process becoming prodigious and deformed. Accordingly, to the moral imposture of statesmanship manufactured from clothes, title and grave looks, Jonson's little epigram adds the concomitance of sexual disfigurement and monstrosity, simultaneously neutering and denaturing the courtier with his choice of pronoun and the command to "walk dead still" (8). If one may return again to Epicoene, the synergy of moral imposture and artificial display is the argument made by Clerimont's song ("Still to be neat, still to be dressed"): the presumption that especially where "art's hid causes are not found, / All is not sweet, all is not sound" (4-6). Every vice in Jonson's satires involves a similar practice of deceit, especially of the EYE, and is exposed to the shrewd observer by the sort of excessive display put on by the lady here: "Still to be neat, still to be dressed, / As you were going to a feast; / Still to be powdered, still perfumed" (1-3). The iteration of "still" conveys a further quality of the semblances of vice, which is that they involve an immense activity merely to "appear" like virtue. The vicious are thus singularly mobile in Jonson, an image of their seditious and epidemic pictorial energy. And the shrubs, the courtlings, the Captains Hungry and Surly, the Guts and Groins, my Lords Ignorant, the plagiarists and censors, the spies, the Fine Lady Would-be's, Court Pucell's, all in one way or another follow this same pattern. They each undertake to create an illusion that Jonson detects in the very excess or ostentation, the virulent energy of its display, whether this illusion is created by speech, by dress, by title, by profession, or in the case of Sir Voluptuous Beast, by panoramic sex.

Judging Spectators
Peter Carlson

“It was well noted by the late L. St. Alban, that the study of words is the first distempter of Learning’, Vaine matter the second: And a third distemper is deceit, or the likenesse of truth: Imposture held up by credulity. All these are the Cobwebs of learning, and to let them grow in us, is either sluttish or foolish.” (Jonson, Discoveries)

In Bacon’s catalogue, Jonson sees and confirms his own distrust of linguistic masks. “Imposture held up by credulity” – which could serve as an abstract for the action of any of his plays – describes the process of mistaking a fiction for a reality” it is seeing what we wish to see rather than analyzing and judging. “imposture,” for Jonson, is the vice of theatricality, but if we can temporarily neutralize the negative thrust he has introduced, ‘Bacon’s phrase might describe the terms under which we enter any theater, that is, a willing suspension of disbelief. Jonson’s suspicion, then, extends to the most basic premises of his medium, and the inner antagonism generated by this doubt can dind release only in the continual and self-contradictory dialectic of self-justification and self- revelation; “hee is call’s a Poet…that fayneth and formeth a fable, and writes things like the truth. For, the Fable and Fiction is (as it were) the forme and Soule of any Poeticall worke, or Poeme”; but “nothing is lasting that is fain’d, it will have another face then it had ere long: As Euripides saith, No lye ever growes old.”


 Jonson's Epigrams

 To  the  great  Example  of  Honour,  and  Vertue , the  most
Noble William, Earl of Pembroke, Lord Chamberlain, &c.

      M Y   L O R D,

Hile you cannot change your Merit, I dare not change your Title: It was that

made it, and not I. Under which Name, I here offer to your Lordship the ripest of my Studies, my Epigrams; which, though they carry danger in the sound, do not therefore seek your shelter: For, when I made them, I had nothing in my Conscience, to expressing of which I did need a Cypher. But, if I be fallen into those Times, wherein, for the likeness of Vice, and Facts, every one thinks anothers ill Deeds objected to him; and that in their ignorant and guilty Mouths, the common Voice is (for their security) Beware the Poet, confessing, therein, so much love to their Diseases, as they would rather make a Party for them, than be either rid, or told of them: I must expect, at your Lordship's hand, the protection of Truth, and Liberty, while you are constant to your own Goodness. In thanks whereof, I return you the Honour of leading forth so many good, and great Names (as my Verses mention on the better part) to their remembrance with Posterity. Amongst whom, if I have praised, unfortunately, any one, that doth not deserve; or, if all answer not, in all Numbers, the Pictures I have made of them: I hope it will be forgiven me, that they are no ill Pieces, though they be not like the Persons. But I foresee a nearer Fate to my Book than this, That the Vices therein will be own'd before the Vertues, (though, there, I have avoided all Particulars, as I have done Names) and some will be so ready to discredit me, as they will have the impudence to bely themselves. For, if I meant them not, it is so. Nor, can I hope otherwise. For, why should they remit any thing of their Riot, their Pride, their Self-love, and other inherent Graces, to consider Truth or Vertue; but, with the Trade of the World, lend their long Ears against Men they love not: And hold their dear Mountebank, or Jester, in far better Condition than all the Study, or Studiers of Humanity? For such, I would rather know them by their Visards, still, than they should publish their Faces, at their peril, in my Theatre, where C A T O, if he liv'd, might enter without scandal. By your Lordship's most faithfull Honourer,        

B E N.  J O H N S O N.  
  Ben Jonson's Epigrams


Cynthia's Revels, Jonson


 ...For, let your Soul be as-
sur'd of this (in any rank, or profession whatever) the
more general, or major part of Opinion goes with the
Face, and (simply) respects nothing else. Therefore,
if that can be made exactly, curiously, exquisitely,
thorowly, it is enough:


Oxford - Master of Courtship/Master of Manners/Grand Cavalier

Cynthia's Revels, Jonson

MERCURY. Go, Dors, and you, my madam COURTING-STOCKS,

Follow your scorned and derided mates;
Tell to your guilty breasts, what mere GILT BLOCKS
You are, and how unworthy human states.

CRI. Now, sacred God of Wit, if you can make
Those, whom our sports tax in these APISH GRACES,
Kiss, like the fighting snakes, your peaceful rod,
These times shall canonise you for a god.

MER. Why, Crites, think you any noble spirit,
Or any, worth the title of a man,
Will be incensed to see the enchanted veils
Of self-conceit, and SERVILE FLATTERY,
Wrapt in so many folds by time and custom,
Drawn from his wronged and bewitched eyes?
Who sees not now their SHAPE AND NAKEDNESS,
Is blinder than the son of earth, the mole;
Crown'd with no more humanity, nor soul.

CRITES. Though they may see it, yet the huge estate
FANCY, and FORM, and SENSUAL PRIDE have gotten,
Will make them blush for anger, not for shame,
Humour is now the test we try things in:
All power is just: nought that delights is sin.
And yet the zeal of every knowing man
Opprest with hills of tyranny, cast on virtue
By the light fancies of fools, thus transported.
Cannot but vent the Aetna of his fires,
T'inflame best bosoms with much worthier love
Than of these outward and effeminate shades;
That these vain joys, in which their wills consume
Such powers of wit and soul as are of force
To raise their beings to eternity,
May be converted on works fitting men:
And, for the practice of a forced look,
An antic gesture, or a fustian phrase,
Study the native frame of a true heart,
An inward comeliness of bounty, knowledge,
And spirit that may conform them actually
To God's high figures, which they have in power;
Which to neglect for a self-loving neatness,
Is sacrilege of an unpardon'd greatness.

MER. Then let the truth of these things strengthen thee,
In thy exempt and only man-like course;
Like it the more, the less it is respected:
Though men fail, virtue is by gods protected. --
See, here comes Arete; I'll withdraw myself. [EXIT.]


 Jonson, Timber

Scitum Hispanicum

207 It is a quick saying with the Spaniards: Artes inter hæredes non dividi.
Yet these have inherited their fathers lying, and they brag of it. Hee is
209 an narrow-minded man, that affects a Triumph in any glorious study:
210 but to triumph in a lye, and a lye themselves have forg'd, is frontlesse.
211 Folly often goes beyond her bounds; but Impudence knowes none.