CHAPTER V
Proverbs that are misunderstood—The Cheese—Raining Cats and Dogs—Cattle-harrying—The Bitter End—By Hook or Crook—Proverbs of Evil Teaching—Necessity has no Law—The Peck of Dirt—Howl with the Wolves—Sarcasm in Proverbs—The Fool—Selfishness—The Praise of Truth—The Value of Time—Death—The Conduct of Life—Occupations that supply Proverbs—The Barber, Tailor, Cobbler, Physician, Lawyer, and others—The Cowl and the Monk—The Long Bow—The Meditative Angler—Sayings associated with particular Individuals—Hobson and his Choice—Plowden's Law—Mortimer's Bow—The Wisdom of Doddipol—The Fear of Mrs Grundy's Opinion—Locality Proverbs—Rustic Humour—Local Products—Tenterden Steeple.
Though in the great majority of cases the significance of a proverb is more or less apparent on consideration, and when discovered is more or less helpful to the conduct of life, we from time to time encounter adages that have achieved some considerable popularity and yet are quite misunderstood, or are entirely unsound in teaching. Comparatively few proverbs reach the highest plane; they are mostly content to supply good work-a-day maxims for a man's prosperity and easy passage through this life, but occasionally self-interest is carried to a point where principle is lost sight of, and the result is wholly evil.
The proverbs that are misunderstood are ordinarily sound enough in their teaching, and are freely used by all—a meaning, not the correct one, having been tacked on to them and found to be a good working one. This is a philological principle that we meet with in all directions. Asparagus, for instance, is so called from the Greek word to tear, many of the species being armed with spines that lacerate,[125:A] but the costermonger knows nothing of this, so he drops the word that has no meaning to him and calls it sparrow-grass, a much more meaningless word really. A somewhat common expression amongst a certain class is "That's the ticket," meaning "that is the proper course to pursue." Why it should carry this significance is not on the face of it obvious, but the whole matter is cleared up when we find that it is a corruption of "C'est l'etiquette." Another popular expression of approval takes the form of "That's the cheese." Familiarity makes such an expression accepted without demur, but one moment's consideration suffices to convince us that what it says cannot really be what it means.[125:B] If we turn it, for instance, into "C'est le fromage," and so get rid of the old formula, we realise this better. What we are to put in its place is quite another matter. One authority suggests that cheese is really the French word "chose," and would bid us accept "C'est le chose" as the true rendering. Another informs us that "chiz" is Bengalee for "thing," and that the expression has been imported from the East; while a third, and he is the man that we would personally pin our faith on, reminds us that "choice" was in Anglo-Saxon times "chese." In the "Vision of Piers Plowman," for example, we read—
"Now thou might chese
How thou cal me, now thou knowst al mi names."
"That's the cheese," then, if we accept this explanation, is "That's the choice," the satisfactory result that one would have chosen to happen.
Another misconception is the familiar saying, "Raining cats and dogs." Such a meteorologico-zoological phenomenon never really takes place; no instance of it has ever been known, and yet people go on using the expression as though the experience was of very ordinary occurrence. The word we want is "catadupe"—καΤα δοῦπος. Δοῦπος is a word used by Homer to express the crash of falling trees, and it is applied, too, to certain falls of the Nile. Thus Pliny writes: "Here and there, and ever and anon, hitting upon islands, and stirred as it were with so many provocations, and at last inclosed and shut within mountaines, and in no place carrieth he (the Nile) a rougher and swifter streame, while the water that he beareth hasteneth to a place of the Æthiopians, called Catadupa, where in the last fall amongst the rockes that stand in his way he rusheth downe with a mightie noise."[126:A] Catadoupe is also a French word for waterfall, though it is now obsolete; and Ralph Thoresby, is his "Diary," describes Coldwarth Force in the Lake District as "a remarkable catadupa." When, then, we say that it is "raining cats and dogs" we mean that there is a tremendous downpour, a perfect catadoupe.
Another old country proverb, "Hurry no man's cattle, you may have a horse of your own some day," appears on the face of it a protest against over-driving, but the first word is a corruption of harry or steal.
To carry a thing through "to the bitter end" seems to imply that, come what may of opposition, the matter shall be forced through, no matter whose heart breaks in the process, but nothing so terrible as this is involved. The expression is a nautical one. Bite is a turn of a cable, and the bitter end is that part of the cable which is wound round the bitt. The bitter end is therefore the extreme end. We read, for instance, in "Robinson Crusoe," that during the storm his vessel encountered, the cables were "veered out to the bitter end"; and, if we turn to Admiral Smyth's "Sailors' Word Book," we find the bitter end defined as "that part of the cable which is abaft the bitts, and therefore within board when the ship rides at anchor. When a chain or rope is paid out to the bitter end no more remains to let go." The popular expression, therefore, that we are considering implies a determination to carry a thing through to a finish, but no bitterness of feeling is a necessary element in the process.
The expression "By hook or by crook" has grown into the idea of a dogged determination to effect a certain purpose—honestly, it may be—but at all events to effect it; but its origin carries no such idea, the most that is involved being a choice of alternatives. Those who by ancient manorial privilege had the right to collect wood for burning were allowed a hook and a crook, the former cutting the green wood, and the latter breaking off the dry; hence, one way or the other, by hook or by crook, they effected their purpose.
In Ray's collection of proverbs we find, "Reckon right, and February hath thirty-one days." What the significance of this can be utterly baffles us. "A little chink lets in much light," but this necessary chink is not as yet forthcoming. "They are well off that have not a home to go to" is another enigma. It sounds distinctly silly. Denham, we see, in his collection of proverbs, has the boldness to declare it "an apposite remark, often quoted by those who, sitting comfortably by their 'ain ingleside,' hear the pelting of the pitiless storm without." We would fain hope, for the credit of human nature, that this adage is not quite so apposite as this Denham would have us believe.
Bad-hearted proverbs are, fortunately, not very numerous in proportion to the sound ones, but there are yet too many of them when we remember how the clinching of a matter by a proverb is to some people almost equivalent to supporting it by a text. In some cases an evil meaning that is not justified is read into a proverb; thus, to declare that "Charity begins at home" is to enunciate a great truth, for he that careth not for his own flesh, we are told, is an infidel. Too often, however, this adage is made the excuse for withholding any wider sympathy, a meaning that it really gives no warrant for. "Honesty is the best policy" is an oft-quoted saying, and it is, as far as it goes, a true one, but it fails because it puts the matter on too low a footing. Honesty for the sake of right, one's duty to God, to one's neighbour, and to one's own conscience and self-respect, is a right worthy aim, but honesty because on the whole it pays best is an ignoble thing. The man whom such a maxim helps is a poor creature, and one whom we should be unwilling to trust very far. The saying, "Every man for himself, and God for us all," while it clothes itself in sham invocation to Providence, is at heart bad—a mere appeal to selfishness—the weakest going to the wall and trodden under foot, or what is more deftly called "the survival of the fittest." The French put it more unblushingly as "Better a grape for me than a fig for thee." How scoundrel a maxim is the declaration that "It is not the offence, but the being found out, that matters"; and how mean a view of integrity and uprightness is shown in the statement that "Every man has his price"—only bid high enough, some perhaps requiring a little more than others, and truth and honour and righteousness become mere merchandise. "As well be hung for a sheep as a lamb" is an utterance equally unsound.
Such proverbs are found in all lands, human nature being what it is. The Bengalis say, "He that gives blows is a master, he that gives none is a dog," whole centuries of tyranny, of cringing to the strong, being revealed in these few words. The Spaniard says, "Draw the snake from its hole by another man's hand"—throw upon another the danger. The Dutchman says, "Self is the man for me." The German says, "Once is never"—some little sin may be allowed to all and never be counted. The Italian says, "At the open chest the righteous may sin"—the opportunity given to theft being a sufficient justification for availing oneself of it. Thus might we travel round the world, finding in every land some maxims of evil import.
To "look at home" is, however, a sufficient task, for no amount of depravity in a Swede or a Zulu will mend matters in Sussex or Yorkshire. "Necessity has no law" is one of the utterances quoted as though gospel truth, but it is a doctrine that will not bear investigation, and "Better a bad excuse than none at all" is not much better. The slovenly housekeeper gravely declares, as a palliative of her untidiness, that "Everyone must eat a peck of dirt before they die," and, indeed, appears to feel somewhat virtuous that her operations are assisting this great natural law! "To accept an obligation is to sell your liberty" is a double-edged adage.[129:A] If we consider it as encouraging self-reliance it is good, but if we take it as a churlish disinclination to accept a kindness, it cuts at the root of all kindly mutual help and sympathy.
The proverb that "The wholesomest meat is at another man's cost" is despicable, but the adage "Up the hill favour me, down the hill beware thee" is atrocious, diabolical. That a man should be willing to accept every possible help in his upward struggle, and then, when he has attained success, trample on those who befriended him, and that a proverb approving the proceeding should pass from mouth to mouth, seems almost impossible of credence. Another atrocious saying is, "If I see his cart overturning I will give it a push"; and yet another runs, "Better kiss a knave than be troubled with him." A fair parallel in abominable teaching to these may be found in the saying, "A slice off a cut loaf will not be missed";[130:A] and for a flat denial of all honourable and manly action it would be hard to beat the teaching, "One must howl with the wolves"—make no protest against evil, take no stand for righteousness, but band oneself with the powers of evil in craven fear of them.
Not fiendish, like some we have quoted, but lamentably weak as a rule of life, is the old adage, "For want of company, welcome trumpery," and this motto of the idler, "If anything stay, let work stay." One could not imagine a very noble character to be built up on such nutriment as this. Another adage that "Good ale is meat, drink, and cloth" must be taken with considerable limitations. Good ale, instead of the good food, the warm clothing, has much to be said for it as a corrected reading, as the sad experience of thousands of empty homes can testify.
Some proverbs have a strong touch of sarcasm in them, and this, when not too bitter and uncharitable, is a quite legitimate feature, as it may drive in a home truth where a gentler treatment would fail, while others have a touch of wit that helps to impress them on the memory. The line between the wit that makes us laugh and that which makes us wince is often rather a fine one. We propose to give some few examples of proverbs on these lines, and we may very well commence our series with the two adages that "Wise men make proverbs, and fools repeat them," and that "The less wit a man has the less he knows he wants it."
The fool, from the days of Solomon, and probably long before them, has supplied the basis of many a proverb; how happy, for instance, the hit at pompous self-conceit[131:A] is this: "A nod from a lord is a breakfast for a fool"; or the suggestion of the utter hopelessness of his condition, for "Heaven and earth fight in vain against a fool";[131:B] or his recklessness and want of prevision, for "The chapter of accidents is the bible of the fool"; and his want of brains, for "A wager is a fool's argument." The only ray of hope for him is in the French saying, "Tous sont sages quand ils se taisent"—fools are wise, or may at least be so reputed, when they are silent.
It is for the help of the fool that such a maxim as this canny Scotch proverb is floated—"Dinna gut your fish till ye get them." As these unfortunate people appear to be cosmopolitan, the Dutch have very similar advice for them, "Don't cry your herrings till they are in the net." The Italians warn them not to "Sell the bird on the bough," nor "Dispose of the skin before the bear is caught"; while even the sensible German appears to need the caution that "Unlaid eggs are uncertain chickens." The lamentable condition of the fool being only too obvious, "What good can it do an ass to be called a lion?"[131:C]
The selfishness and scheming of certain people has been made the target for many shafts. The Romans had the adage, "Ficos dividere," to satirise those who strove too cheaply to gain credit for their liberality by cutting up a fig into portions and distributing these. An old English proverb says of such a man, "He would dress an egg for himself, and give the broth to the poor." How true, again, "He that is warm thinks all are so," and is careful not to raise the question. Have we not all seen, too, how the weak are imposed on, and that "The least boy always carries the greatest fiddle," and that "Those who can deny others everything often deny themselves nothing." The Italians have found out that "He who manages other people's wealth does not go supperless to bed." The way these artful people hang together (not, unfortunately, in a literal sense)[132:A] has not escaped attention, the old Roman declaring: "Ait latro ad latronem"—another rogue always being ready to say "Yes" to what the first rogue says. On the other hand, it is some little comfort to know that "When the cook and the maid fall out we shall know what has come of the butter"! How true, again, is the assertion that "We confess our faults in the plural, but deny them in the singular," and many a man who calls himself a miserable sinner would warmly repudiate any assent that others might make to this assertion of his.
A happy sarcasm is that "He refuseth the bribe, but putteth out his hand"—seeking to save appearances, and yet anxious not to lose in the process. "A bribe enters," we are told, "without knocking," no special publicity in the matter being desirable, and "He that bringeth a present findeth the door open," no obstacle being placed in his way. It must, however, be remarked that "Favourites are like sun-dials." Why? Because no one regards them any longer when they are in the shade. "Those that throw away virtue must not expect to save reputation," and "None have less praise than those who hunt after it." The Spaniards have a severe proverb on the corruption of the law-givers: "To the judges of Gallicia go with feet in hand"—a delicate way of advising the law-seeker to bring with him a brace of pheasants or some poultry to help his cause.
Things that all may well remember for their guidance are, that "Form is good, but not formality"; that "Respect is better secured by deserving than by soliciting"; that "Candour is pleasant, rudeness is not"; that "Popularity is not love"; that "Desert and reward seldom keep company"; that "Many suffer long who are not long-suffering"; that "Good reasons must give place to better"; that "Favour is no inheritance"; that "He who sets his timepiece by everyone's clock will never know the hour"; that "Things intended are not of the same value as things done"; that "Many complain of want of memory and few of lack of judgment"; that "Too much learning hinders knowledge." The Spaniards say that "A fool, unless he know Latin, is never a great fool"—a severe hit on pompous pedantry. A room may be so full of furniture that one can hardly find a chair to sit down upon, and a man's brain may be so stuffed with recondite lore that common work-a-day knowledge is crowded out.
The direct appeal to religion is, naturally, not often met with in proverb-lore, such appeal being somewhat outside its functions, and on a higher plane than is ordinarily reached. The wisdom of proverbs concerns itself more with time than with eternity, though the advocacy of truth and honour, the exposure of knavery, the importance of a right judgment, and many other points that make for the right, are contributory to the higher life. The beacon light for those steering for the Celestial City must, nevertheless, be sought elsewhere. The old and beautiful adage, "The grace of God is gear enough," is very striking, and is, furthermore, interesting from the Shakespearean reference to it in the "Merchant of Venice," where Launcelot Gobbo says to Bassanio: "The old proverb is very well parted between my master, Shylock, and you, Sir; you have the grace of God, Sir, and he hath enough."
To "Tell the truth, and shame the devil," is one of our well-known popular sayings. Though often quoted lightly enough, it is a noble advocacy for standing up for the right at all hazards. The French proverb tells us that "Truth, like oil, must come to the top," and the Swiss, in like spirit, declare that "Truth cannot be buried." The old Roman adage also affirms, "Great is the truth and it shall prevail." This, in turn, reminds us of the old saw: "A lie has no legs." Nevertheless, unfortunately it has, and may travel gaily enough for awhile, but it contains within itself the seed of its own dissolution, and sooner or later its vitality has gone, and it perishes discredited; for "Truth," as the Spanish proverb beautifully has it, "is the daughter of God," and its final victory is thereby assured. Forgiveness of injuries is the lesson taught in the Bengali proverb: "The sandal-tree perfumes the axe that fells it"[134:A]; and an equally beautiful Persian saying is this: "Cast thy bread upon the water, God will know of it if the fishes do not." Another non-Christian proverb is the Greek saying: "Many meet the gods, but few salute them"—borne down by the cares of time, fail to recognise their presence, and suffer them to pass unheeded, or receive blessing at their hands, yet thank them not.
It is often too true that "The vow made in the storm is forgotten in the calm," for promises made readily enough in the time of trouble require a better memory than people ordinarily possess, and gratitude seems to be one of the most short-lived of emotions. Another old saying is also too painfully true: "Complaint is the largest tribute heaven receives"—the sincerest part of our devotion—and to this we may add, "If pride were an art how many graduates should we have."
The value of Time is appreciated in such sayings as "He that has most time has none to lose"; "Time is the stuff that life is made of." Our ancestors counsel us that we "Use the minutes wisely, then will not the hours reproach," for "Like as the waves make toward the pebbled shore, so do our minutes hasten to their end," and "Every day in thy life is a page in thy history." An ancient adage warns us: "Take time while time is, for time will away"; or, as we find it in "The Notable and Antient Historie of the Cherrie and the Slae" (1595):—
"Yet Wisdom wisheth thee to weigh
This figure in Philosophie,
A lesson worth the lear,
Which is, in time for to take tent,
And not, when time is past, repent,
And buy repentance dear."
In Howell's "Old Sayed Sawes" it is given as "All time's no time when time's past." Hence we are warned to take Time by the forelock. Life is a loan to man, and, while we complain that our days are few, we act practically as though there could come no end to them. "The shortest day is too long to waste," therefore "Do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of." The French say: "Il n'est si grand jour qui ne vienne à vespre." So that it becomes us well, in the words of a fifteenth century poem, to
"Thinke on the end or thou begyn,
And thou schalt never be thral to syn."[136:A]
The Italians very graphically and poetically say: "La notte è la madre di pensieri"—night is the mother of thoughts, a quiet resting time, a pause in life when we can honestly take stock of ourselves.[136:B]
Death hath its special proverbs and warning saws: thus one warns the young and careless that "The churchyard graves are of all sizes," while another dwells on its inevitableness, declaring that "Death is deaf and takes no denial," and that all, fit or unfit, must face the fact, for "Death is the only master who takes his servants without a character." The Romans had the proverb, "Finis coronat opus," and an English proverb hath it: "'Tis not the fight that crowns us, but the end." The Italians say: "A ogni cosa è remedio fuora qu'alla morte"—there is a remedy for everything save death; but "Men must endure their going hence, even as in their coming hither; ripeness is all," and what death has of terror is what the life has made to be terrible. A well-known proverb will be recalled as to the folly of waiting to step into dead men's shoes. Thomas Fuller, in his essay on "Marriage," very happily says: "They that marry ancient people, merely in expectation to bury them, hang themselves, in hope that one will come and cut the halter"—a sufficiently painful position.
Though it seem impossible that the place of some great philanthropist or statesman could ever, on his removal, be adequately filled up, we soon learn that no one is really indispensable. The torch is handed on: "God buries his workman, but carries on his work."
The trials of life are many, and their lessons have their place in the proverbial wisdom of our forefathers, and we learn thereby how best to face them, and to see in them not evil but good. "The worse the passage the more welcome the port," and "Bitter to endure may be sweet to remember." How excellent, too, the advice: "Make a crutch of your cross"—no longer a thing to harass but to support and help. It is well, too, to remember that, in any real and high sense, "'Tis not the suffering but the cause that makes the martyr."[137:A]
The deliberate offender is warned that "He who thinks to deceive God has already deceived himself," and "That sin and sorrow cannot long be separated." He is reminded that "He that sins against his own conscience sins with a witness," and that "Trifling with sin is no trifling sin." How true, again, that "Few love to bear the sins they love to act." He who offends against Heaven hath none to whom he can plead. In ancient days it was held that in such a case Nemesis was inevitable, and a proverb in use before the Christian era declared that "Fate moves with leaden feet, but strikes with iron hands"—that punishment might be long in coming, but was no less sure—a later proverb, in like manner, teaching that "The mill of God grinds slowly but it grinds exceeding fine." The mere hypocrite—one of the most despicable of mortals—has a special adage for his warning, that "Religion is the best armour in the world, but the worst cloak"—an altogether excellent utterance.
Proverbs cast their nets far and wide, and gather in materials from many sources of inspiration. Speech and silence, wisdom and folly, truth and falsehood, friendship and enmity, wealth and poverty, industry and idleness, youth and age, moderation and excess, are all pressed into the service; even the divers occupations of life have their varying lessons, and to these we now give attention.
All who, even in the most amateur way, have tried their hands at carpentry will at once understand the point of the saying, "To go against the grain," when a task that has been undertaken is in some way distasteful; and carpenters, like other handicraftsmen, have opportunity of testing the truth of another very common remark, "A bad workman finds fault with his tools," or yet another happy criticism, "A man is known by his chips."
The loquacity of the barber has grown into a generally recognised feature of his calling. He is the "middle man," the cause of much dissemination of news, receiving and imparting it freely during the day's business. This is no reputation of yesterday; in ancient Rome the citizens said, "Omnibus notum tonsoribus," and we see in the old English adage, "Every barber knows that," that some few centuries afterwards the matter was as much in evidence as ever, and it is by no means out of date to-day.
The occupation of the tailor, as he sits all day cramped up in some room, has been held to be so enfeebling that it has been thought to justify the adage that "It takes nine tailors to make a man." This certainly is a great number. In a poem of the year 1630 we read—
"Some foolish knave, I thinke, at first began
The slander that three taylers are one man."
Nine, however, is the generally accepted figure, and the poet shows such a strong animus that we can scarcely accept his counter-statement. Nine would have suited the requirements of his metre as well as three, and we can only conclude that the fraction he took was one of his own devising. "The three tailors of Tooley Street" achieved lasting fame, it will be remembered, by sending a petition to Parliament commencing, "We, the people of England."
The cobbler, and eke his wife, share in the immortality that popular proverbs go far to confer. It will be remembered how, as an illustration of the general inconsistency and unexpectedness of things, "The cobbler's wife is the worst shod." "She goeth broken shoone and torne hoses," says a mediæval bard, "but," as may be expected from the general unaccountableness of such matters, "Who is worse shod than the shoemaker's wife, With shops full of new shooes all the days of her life?" Cobblers pursue a steady and somewhat monotonous business which seems to favour reflection, and the followers of the craft have supplied from their ranks not a few famous men. It will be remembered, however, how in one case a rebuke became necessary, when the cobbler in question criticised adversely a shoe-latchet in one of the pictures of Apelles. The great painter accepted the criticism and repainted the fastening, whereupon the critic extended his self-imposed functions, and objected to the drawing of the foot. Apelles felt the time had come to put down his own foot, and advised the cobbler to stick to his trade. The ancient proverb that this little incident evoked has its modern counterpart in the saying, "Let the cobbler stick to his last," a proverb as valuable to-day as it was of service in the studio of Apelles, when people will insist in talking about what they do not understand.
The brewer would find a dictum after his own heart in the old lines—
"He that buys land buys many stones,
He that buys flesh buys many bones,
He that buys eggs buys many shells,
But he that buys ale buys nothing else."
The kitchen realm has supplied a very expressive proverb in "The fat is in the fire," and such sayings as "Sweep before your own door"; "The pitcher goes oft to the well, but is broken at last"; "If you enjoy the fire you must put up with the smoke"; "A watched pot never boils"—all suggested by the service of the house; while even the breakages so common in these regions are found, by those who do not have to pay for them, to have a bright side, for "Were it not for breakage there would be no potter's trade." It is so fatally easy to be generous at another person's expense.
Ready though people be to avail themselves at need of the skill of the physician, when they are in, shall we say, rude health, they regard him as very fair game for banter. "He that wants health wants all," but while they are enjoying this happy condition of rampant well-being they cry cheerfully enough, "Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it."[140:A] Another proverb, however, declares that "Physic always does good—if not to the patient then to the doctor." This is a bit of German sarcasm; and this Spanish saying, "The earth covers the mistakes of the physician," is equally unappreciative and—dare one say it?—equally true.
The issues of life and death are not the physician's to control. One proverb on the faculty, "Physician, heal thyself," has a special interest, being quoted in one of His discourses by our Lord; while another biblical reference, that of the woman who had spent all her living on doctors and was no better, but rather the worse, is sometimes rather maliciously quoted against our medical practitioners. A proverb for the patient's benefit will be found in "Much meat, many maladies," or in the statement that "Englishmen dig their graves with their teeth," a genial way of asserting that the Briton eats and drinks too much, which in many cases is probably true. He is also reminded, that "If pills were pleasant they would need no gilding."[141:A]
The man of law has always been the subject of satire and his work derided, the difference between law and justice being often too conspicuous. A man who flourishes on the dissensions of others can scarcely expect to be a very popular member of society. Their clients are warned that "Better is a lean agreement than a fat lawsuit," and that "In a thousand pounds of law there is not an ounce of love." We are instructed to mark that no lawyer ever goes to law on his own account, and as a warning to their victims we are invited to take note that "Lawyers' gowns are lined with the wilfulness of their clients." A thing may be entirely lawful and yet not honourable, technically right and wanting in all else. In Swaffam Church we find an epitaph commencing—
"Here lieth one, believe it if you can,
Who, tho' an attorney, was an honest man;
The gates of heaven shall open wide,
But will be shut 'gainst all the tribe beside."
Another lawyer was the subject of the following couplet:—
"Here lieth one who often lied before,
But now he lies here he lies no more."
The ecclesiastic is the subject of many proverbs, and these mostly of an unfavourable character. It is said, "Woe to those preachers who listen not to themselves," and the caution is a very just one, but we have to realise that while the message from God to man is beyond all criticism, "we have this treasure in earthen vessels" that may be very much open to criticism, and yet not necessarily hypocrites, knaves, fools, as some would have us believe. "He who teaches religion without exemplifying it loses the advantage of its best argument," a criticism again most just. An epitaph that may be seen in Wallesley Churchyard, on the tomb of one of the vicars of the church, shows a lofty ideal fully attained:—
"Led by Religion's bright and cheering ray,
He taught the way to Heaven, and went that way;
And while he held the Christian life to view,
He was himself the Christian that he drew."
It is not those who talk righteousness but those who live righteously who are the light of the world, while those who are false to this incur a tremendous responsibility when they assume the position of guides and bring discredit on their mission. The Spanish proverbs are of especial bitterness: "Do by the friar as he does by you"; "A proud friar requires a new rope and a dry almond tree," in other words, deserves hanging. Again we are warned that "A turn of the key is better than the conscience of a friar"; what, then, of honour, reputation, or possession is held of value must be protected from his malign influence. Again, we are warned to "Take care of an ox before, an ass behind, and a monk on all sides." Their greed is satirised in such popular sayings as these: "Priests eat up the stew and then ask for the stewpan"; "The covetous abbot for one loaf loses a hundred"; "The abbot gives for the good of his soul what he cannot eat." In like manner the Russians say, "Give the priest all thou hast, and thou wilt have given them nearly enough"; and the Italians declare that "Priests, monks, nuns, and poultry never have enough"; while in England we have the adage, "As crafty as a friar." We are warned, too, that "It is not the cowl that makes the monk." Appearances may be deceitful: "They should be good men," writes Shakespeare in "Henry VIII.," "their affairs are righteous; but all hoods make not monks." It was in mediæval England a common expression, "The bishop hath blessed it," when the food was burnt in preparation; a reminder of the days of fiery persecution. Tyndale, for instance, writes in his "Obedyence of a Chrystene Man," "When a thynge speadeth not well we borow speache and say, 'The byshope hath blessed it,' because that nothynge speadeth well that they medyll withall. If the podech be burned or the meate over rosted, we say, 'The byshope has put his fote in the potte,' because the byshoppes burn who they list and whosoever displeaseth them." The Marian persecutions appear to us mere ancient history, but they were real enough when this sarcasm on the episcopal benediction passed from mouth to mouth.
The French attack the craftiness that has too often been a characteristic of the ecclesiastic in the saying: "Le renard prêche aux poules"; while in England we find the adages, "Reynard is reynard still, though in a cowl," and "When the fox preacheth then beware of your geese," and to these many other sayings of like import might be added.
The miller was the target for considerable adverse comment. An epitaph in Calne churchyard over one of the fraternity reads—
"God worketh wonders now and then,
Here lies a miller, and an honest man,"
and this would appear to be about the popular view of the craft. Thus Chaucer writes of his "Wel cowde he stele, and tollen thries," and he describes him as having "a thomb of golde," in itself a proverbial expression. The miller tests the fineness of the grinding by taking up a portion of the meal and rubbing it between his thumb and fingers, in itself a most harmless and necessary operation. Another well-known proverb is, "All is grist that comes to his mill," good or bad, all is used and turned to advantage; while an Italian proverb declares that "Millers are the last to die of famine"—the process of grinding the corn of other people leading, it is suggested, to a considerable quantity being transferred from the bag of the farmer to the bin of the miller, no question of mutual consent arising.
Army service suggested as a proverb based on experience and observation, "The blood of the common soldier makes the glory of the general," an adage not yet out of date; while such proverbs as, "Two strings to one's bow," "To draw the long bow," and "A fool's bolt is soon shot"[145:A] recall the days when archery was the national defence and recreation. To "Draw not your bow till your arrow is fixed," is another old English proverb; it is tantamount to another wise saw, "Look before you leap."
The pursuit of the angler appears to those not of the craft so dreary and monotonous that one hesitates to call it a recreation. It is at least an excellent school for patience and such virtues as may be taught by hope deferred. The French say, "Still he fishes, that catcheth one"; while an English proverb bluntly declares that "An angler eats more than he gets." For everything in this world a price has to be paid, and the fisherman is warned that "He who would catch fish must not mind a wetting." A very familiar saying that derives its inspiration from the pursuit of the fisherman is that "All is fish that comes to the net," a parallel saying to the one that has just been referred to concerning the grist of the miller.
The innings of the cricketer supplies the saying, "Off his own bat," to describe the results in any direction achieved by a man's own exertions, while the chess-player's board suggests the moral, "At the end of the game the king and the pawn go into the same bag," one lot befalls all; and to this we may add, "The die is cast," when the irrevocable step is taken—
"I have set my life upon the cast
And I will stand the hazard of the die."—"Richard III."
The busy pursuits and pleasant recreations of life would doubtless yield much more material for the searcher after proverb-lore thereon. We are content but to indicate something of the interest that the subject may be made to evolve, and leave it to the reader to amplify, if he so will.
Maxims that apply equally to all callings are to be found in abundance. Of these we may instance, as examples: "A useful trade is a mine of gold," "Sell not thy conscience with thy goods," "He that thinks his place below him will certainly be below his place," "Mind what you do and how you do it." To these we would add, "Nothing is little," a proverb of far-reaching significance and deep import; for we need at times to consider how, from actions small in themselves, from a few words hastily spoken, from the pressure of a hand when hearts are breaking, from the neglect of a little duty or precaution, how great may be the outcome.
Personal proverbs are very numerous: a list of over a hundred could readily be compiled. Many of these we cannot now really attribute to any particular individual. They often refer to some local circumstance, some story that has been forgotten. In some cases, as in "Hobson's choice" or "the case is altered, quoth Plowden," we are dealing with real individuals; in other cases we may reasonably assume that we are, though we cannot prove it; while, in a third section, the matter is considerably more doubtful. Proverbs, for instance, that deal only with Christian names probably do not allude to any particular individual, and it may be assumed that these names are there to give a concrete realism such as the rustic loves, and are of no more definite existence than "Tom, Dick, and Harry," or "Tag, Rag, and Bobtail"—all representative of the units forming some gathering. In some cases it is a passing skit on some local character who has laid himself open in some way; while in others, such as "Madam Parnell, crack the nut and eat the kernel," or "Mock not, quoth Mumford," the things owe all the brilliancy they possess to the attraction of rhyme or alliteration. The "Jack Sprat, who could eat no fat" was doubtless a myth, created to gratify the poetic instincts of the creator of the character. The well-known nursery characters, "Jack and Jill, who went up the hill" supply, no doubt, another illustration. It would be quite hopeless to search for their baptismal registers. "As wise as the Mayor of Banbury" is an example of a local proverb. These civic authorities were often made the butt of a good deal of banter. What particular mayor was thus honoured it is, of course, impossible to determine; his individuality has been absorbed in his mayoral dignity. Small local jealousies between one village or town and a neighbouring one are often responsible for this sort of thing, the provincial mind loving to score over the people in the next parish or the next county.
Where no real option is given to a person the proverb "Hobson's choice" is suggested. One Tobias Hobson was an innkeeper and carrier at Cambridge, and a man of considerable local influence. He was said to be the first man in England that made a business of letting out horses for hire. However this may be, his custom, a custom that supplies the material for the adage, was that when anyone wanted a horse he was led into the stables, where some forty animals were ready for use, but the inexorable rule was that there should be no picking and choosing, a necessity being laid upon the customer that he took the horse which stood nearest the stable door. He had Hobson's choice and no other. This procedure placed all on an equal level and ensured a rough justice for the horses themselves, as the last horse entering from a journey was put at the far end and was only again liable for service when all the others had first done their turn.
"The case is altered, quoth Plowden," was a very popular adage with our ancestors, and especially in Shropshire. Edmund Plowden was an eminent lawyer in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, born at Plowden, a little village in Shropshire. The following circumstance is said to have given birth to the adage:—A neighbour asked him what remedy he had in law against a person whose hogs had broken into his field, and he was assured that the law would amply protect his rights. Whereupon the farmer replied that they were his (Plowden's) hogs. "Nay then, neighbour," quoth Plowden, "the case is altered." We learn hereby that it is hardly well for a man to be both defendant and judge, but it is due to Plowden's memory to add that in choosing the name of some lawyer to tack on to the proverb they merely took the name of one exceptionally well known. He was by a distinguished contemporary writer described as "A man second to none in his profession for honour and integrity." Plowden or no Plowden, the adage points to the duty of doing as we would be done by, and is a fair satire on the general readiness of lawyers to argue on either side at short notice, and to take very special care of "number one."
The old saying, "As coy as Croker's mare," may refer to some incident of which all knowledge is now lost; but as we sometimes find it rendered, "As coy as a crocker's mare," it has been, with great reason, suggested that this crocker is simply a crock-dealer, a retailer of earthenware round the country, to whom the possession of a restive animal would mean the smashing up of his stock and his consequent ruin. In a play of the year 1566, where a widow of somewhat flippant mood appears, we are told that "Of auncient fathers she took no cure nor care, She was to them as koy as a croker's mare."
A proverb that has a curious history is, "Two heads are better than one, said Weymark." Three-fourths of this is of great antiquity, and, we may take it, rank in significance with "In the multitude of counsellors there is safety," and other proverbs of that type. Whence, then, came the added fourth, and why? One theory is that it is a mere accretion, but this probably everyone, except the broacher of the idea, will feel to be very unlikely. Weymark is a distinctly peculiar name, and there must surely be some allusion to some one so called. It has been suggested that we should read it as way-mark,[149:A] a mark to guide the traveller: that we should understand that two heads are better than one to guide us on our earthly journey, but in this case why the word "said"?
In the "Anglorum Speculum," A.D. 1684, we get on to firmer ground; we there read that "One Wiemark was called to account for saying the head of Sir Walter Raleigh (beheaded that day) would do very well on the shoulders of Sir Robert Naunton; and having alleged in his own justification that two heads were better than one, he was for the present dismissed. Afterwards Wiemark being, with other wealthy persons, called on for a subscription to St Paul's, first subscribed a hundred pounds at the Council Table, but was glad to double it after Mr Secretary had told him two heads were better than one." We can readily understand that this jeering addition to the old saw quickly found acceptance when the incident got abroad.
The expression, "Backare, quoth Mortimer to his sow," has an extended range over our old literature, but its meaning is very enigmatical. Heywood writes, "Backare, quoth Mortimer to his sow, Went that sow back at that bidding, trow you?" In John Grange's "Golden Aphroditis" (1577) we read, "Yet wrested he so his effeminate bende to the siege of backwarde affection, that both trumpet and drumme sounded nothing but baccare, baccare." Wherever we find this baccare—in "Roister Doister," "The Dial," "Repentance of Mary Magdalene," the "Scourge of Folly," "Mydas," or elsewhere—its significance is always "Stand back." Its spelling is very variable.[150:A] Who Mortimer was, it is hopeless to conjecture, or on what occasion he found it necessary to curb the impatience of his sow.
The expression, "As wise as Dr Doddipol," is of sarcastic significance. The name of this doctor is spelt in many ways, but in all its variations the saying preserves its depreciatory character. Skelton in "Colin Clout" has Dr Daupatus and Doddypatis. Hoddypoule, Huddypeake, Dotypoll, Noddipole, are other readings one encounters in old plays and the like. In Fox's "Book of Martyrs" we have, "I will contemne these dastardly dotipoles." Latimer in his sermons used the plainest language. In preaching before King Edward, he said, "But some will say our curate is nought, an asshead, a dodipoll, a lacklatine," while in another of his discourses he breaks out, "Ye brainsicke fooles, ye hoddy-peakes, ye doddy poules." We may perhaps explain that these epithets were not applied to his audience; they were words put by the preacher into the mouths of the Pharisees in their disgust at the flocking of the common people to the teaching of the Messiah. In the works of Sir Thomas More, 1557, we find him declaring of something that, concerning it, "a verye nodypoll nydyote might be ashamed."[151:A]
Sterne in "Tristram Shandy" is quite Latimeresque. He writes: "Here, without staying for my reply, shall I be called as many blockheads, numsculls, doddypoles, dunderheads." Thompson uses the expression "doddering mast" in his description of a storm, while Dryden writes of a rotting "doddar'd oke" falling piecemeal to the ground. The idea all through is clearly weakness, feebleness, physical or mental.
Another proverb, "Bate me an ace, quoth Bolton," has a certain historic interest. A collection of proverbs was presented by its compiler to Queen Elizabeth, with the declaration that it contained every proverb in the English language. To test the matter, she asked if he had this one, and he was obliged to confess that he had not. Without the surname appended it may often be found in various old authors; in Beaumont and Fletcher's "Prophetess," for instance, we find the passage, "Nor bate ye an ace of a sound senator." We are told that this Bolton was one of the courtiers in attendance on Henry VIII., who, in card-playing with his Sovereign, was discreet enough to beg to be allowed an ace, or some such considerable advantage, that he might have some little chance against so skilful a player. The proverb was ordinarily used as an appeal for some little advantage, or, ironically, as a hint to some one whose statements were held to be a little beyond credence to abate them somewhat.
It will readily be noted that most of these name-proverbs are obsolete, but one of them, "What will Mrs Grundy say?" is still in use. It is found in the old play of "Speed the Plough," and was thence transported into general service. A Mrs Ashfield was there represented as always in terror of the opinion of this old lady, until at length her husband, a bluff old farmer, can stand it no longer, and bursts out: "Be quiet, wool ye? Always ding, dinging Dame Grundy into my ears, What will Mrs Grundy say!" The influence of the old lady is yet strong in the land.
In the west of England we encounter the adage, "He will live as long as old Ross of Potterne." Potterne is a village near Devizes, and this venerable Ross was probably a genuine centenarian, though all clue to him is now lost. The proverb is sometimes rather unkindly amplified into, "Who lived till all the world was a-weary of him," a very unhappy state of things for all parties.
A proverb long current in Shropshire and the adjoining counties is, "Ahem! as Dick Smith said when he swallowed the dishcloth." The moral here clearly is that troubles should be borne bravely and with as little fuss as possible. Another old saw is, "My name is Twyford; I know nothing of the matter"—a statement that would mean, "I object to enquiry; I decline to be bothered." A sarcastic saying on pretentiousness is seen in, "Great doings at Gregory's; heated the oven twice for a custard." The futility of attempting to stop proceedings after they had got to a certain point was illustrated in the adage, "Nay, stay, quoth Stringer, when his neck was in the halter." One can imagine the depth of scorn that might be thrown into "Don't hurry, Hopkins," when fired off at some notorious laggard; but the legend goes that a certain, or uncertain, Hopkins gave a creditor a promissory-note, having previously written on it, "The said John Hopkins is not to be hurried in paying this amount." Of course, in all these explanations we have to wonder whether some incident led to the adage, or whether the process has been reversed—the popular saying, its real origin forgotten, having a fictitious explanation tacked on to it. "Credit is dead; bad pay killed him," is a popular adage with those who believe in ready-money transactions[153:A]—a sentiment that the creditors of the late John Hopkins would readily appreciate.
Locality proverbs, like personal proverbs, are naturally more in vogue in the places named than of general usage, though some of them travel far outside their place of origin. Others of them, and those generally of a derisive cast, do not originate in the place itself, but are conferred on it by outsiders. "Go to Bath," for instance, was a reference to the fact that lunatics used to be sent there for the benefit of its waters, and the inference was that the person addressed was a fit subject for a stay there. Had the proverb originated in the city, it would have been "Come to Bath." "Cheshire bred, strong in the arm, weak in the head," is a saying that scarcely originated in that county. Another county saying is, "You were born at Hog's-Norton." This was a reproof to a boorish person, but there is no such place; the village referred to is that of Hock-Norton, in Oxfordshire, rustic humour readily making the change of spelling to fit it for its purpose. Such saws as, "Grantham gruel, nine grits and a bucket of water," or "Like Banbury tinkers, that mend one hole and make three," we may be sure did not originate in the places designated. If the adage be complimentary, it probably arose in the place, as, for instance, "True as Coventry blue," an allusion to an excellent dye for which the town was noted; or "Diamond cut diamond, I am Yorkshire too," a testimony to the Yorkshireman's brilliancy and keenness.
The allusion is sometimes topographical. Thus, "Crooked as Crawley brook" is suggested by a little stream in Bedfordshire that has a course of twenty miles between two points that are actually five miles apart. "When Dudman and Ramhead meet"—in a word, never. These are two conspicuous headlands in Cornwall, miles apart. In Norfolk is a saying, "Arrested by the bailiff of Marshland," when the unacclimatised stranger succumbs to the ague, the product of the local aqueous surroundings.
Rustic humour is responsible for the somewhat blunt point of many of these local sayings. A play upon words is very popular. Thus Beggar's Bush, near Huntingdon, suggests that a man "Goes home by Beggar's Bush" when his means are dwindling away. "On the high road to Needham," a place in Suffolk, is of similar import, the idea of need being the point of the adage. Tusser, for instance, writes:
"Toiling much and spoiling more, great charge smal gains or none,
Soon sets thine host at Needham's shore, to craue the begger's bone."
On the contrary, if he would prosper, let him "Set up shop on the Goodwin sands," a most unpromising locality, one would imagine, until we realise that the saw-maker means "good win." "As plain as the Dunstable road" sounds straightforward enough, especially when we recall that Dunstable is on Watling Street, one of the noble main roads of the Romans; but the humour (save the mark!) of the thing is in the play on the idea of "dunce." In "Redgauntlet" we read: "If this is not plain speaking, there is no such place as downright Dunstable"—i.e. the meaning of the remark is so plain that even a mere fool, the veriest dunce, could not fail to grasp it.
In Lincolnshire, when anyone is not over-acute, they delicately say, "He was born at Little Wittham," hence the cause of his having so little wit: the actual spelling is Witham. On the decease of anyone it is said, "He is gone to Deadham." In Sussex, if a man were slow over his work, they would say, "He is none of Hastings," the idea of haste being somehow involved. The dwellers in the little town of Ware were pleased to say that it was "worth all London." Fuller, who wrote a delightful folio on the counties of England, says: "This, I assure you, is a masterpiece of the vulgar wits in this county, wherewith they endeavour to amuse travellers. The fallacy lieth in the homonymy of Ware, here not taken for that town so named, but appellatively for all vendible commodities." In the fen districts the frogs are called "Cambridgeshire nightingales." At night, and especially before rain, the frogs make a tremendous croaking. At Ripley, in Surrey, where there is a pond near the village, we have heard them called "The town band."
To be "stabbed with a Bridport dagger" was a delicate way of saying that a man had been hanged. The best hemp used to be grown round this Dorsetshire town, and the place was famous for its manufacture of rope; in fact, an ancient statute was long in force requiring that the cables for the royal navy should be made there.
To be "As thin as Banbury cheese" was a favourite simile with our ancestors. Bardolph, it will be recalled, in the "Merry Wives of Windsor," compares Slender to a Banbury cheese. In "Jack Drum's Entertainment," 1601, we find: "Put off your cloathes and you are like a Banbury cheese, nothing but paring"; while, in a pamphlet issued in 1664, on "The Sad Condition of the Clergy," we read, "Our lands and glebes are clipped and pared to become as thin as Banbury Cheese."[156:A] Another cheese that became proverbial was that of Suffolk. It was locally called "Bang" or "Thump."
"Unrivall'd stands thy county cheese, O Giles!
Whose very name alone engenders smiles,
Whose fame abroad by every tongue is spoke,
The well-known butt of many a flinty joke;
Its name derision and reproach pursue,
And strangers tell of three times skimm'd sky-blue."
—Blomfield.
"Hunger will break through stone walls, or anything but Suffolk cheese," was one depreciating proverb, and Mowbray says that "It is only fit to be cut up for gate-latches, a use to which it is often applied." Other suggestions for its use are the making of millstones or grindstones or the wheels of barrows. The mention of a wheelbarrow reminds us of the saying, "A Coggleshall job." The residents in Coggleshall were the butts of the country round, and one of the tales against them is that a mad dog running through the place snapped at a barrow, and the people, fearing it might go mad as well, chained it up in a stable till they saw how things would go with it. "The wise men of Gotham," in Nottinghamshire, were similarly made the victims of many stories reflecting on their sagacity. A Gothamite, Andrew Boyde, wrote the "Menye Tales of the Wise Men of Gotham," wherein many of the follies that have been fathered on them are duly set forth. Men in all ages have made themselves merry with singling out some place as the special seat of stupidity; thus the Phrygians were accounted the fools of all Asia, and the anvil for other men's wits to work upon. The men of Gotham were so enamoured of the singing of a cuckoo, we are told, that a number of them joined hands round the hawthorn bush in which it was perched to prevent its escape; while, on another occasion, they endeavoured to divert the course of their river by putting a line of hurdles across.
Local products sometimes figure in these proverbs: thus "a Yarmouth capon" is a bloater,[157:A] and "Colchester beef" is a dish of the sprats that are caught abundantly in that neighbourhood, while the language of "Billingsgate" is a local growth that has attained to proverbial fame. Dryden refers to it in the line, "Parnassus spoke the cant of Billingsgate."
When a man of Newcastle-on-Tyne suspected his companion of anything doubtful he would say, "Let's have no Gateshead," marking the popular local opinion of the folks in the sister town—a case of "the pot calling the kettle black," and no doubt duly resented by a Gateshead sarcasm of equal strength.
The "fair maids of Suffolk" and the "Lancashire beauties"[157:B] were recognised, by their respective counties at least, as worthy of proverbial recognition for their special charm; while the men of Essex, doubtless unfairly, were dubbed "As valiant as an Essex lion," these lions being the calves for which this county is famous. "As wise as a Waltham calf" was another ironical reference to the Essex folk. In a book written in 1566 we find a man called in to mediate between man and wife declaring—
"Ye will me to a thanklesse office heere,
And a busy officer I may appeare,
And Jack out of office she may bid me walke,
And thinke me as wise as Waltam's calf to talke."[158:A]
In "Dyet's Dry Dinner," 1599, after dispraise of veal as an article of food, the author says that "Essex calves the proverb praiseth, and some are of the mind that Waltome calfe was also that countrey man."
A common proverb in Yorkshire is, "A Scarborough warning," equivalent to "a word and a blow and a blow first." Several explanations have been given of this adage. One explanation was that if ships passed the castle without saluting it a shot was fired into them, but in an old ballad another theory is started—
"This term, Scarborow warning, grew, some say,
By hasting hanging for rank robbery theare,
Who that was met, but suspect in that way,
Strait he was trust up, whatever he were."
We need scarcely point out that when several reasons are given for anything it is an indication that nothing very satisfactory is forthcoming.
That "Tenterden Steeple is the cause of the Goodwin Sands" is a proverb that was at one time often brought forth when any ridiculous cause was assigned as an explanation of anything. We have already seen how very colloquial Bishop Latimer could be on occasion, and he tells us that a "Mr Moore was once sent with commission into Kent to try out, if it might be, what was the cause of Goodwin's Sands which had stopped up Sandwich Haven. Thither cometh Mr Moore, and calleth all the country before him, such as were thought to be men of experience, and men that could of likelihood best satisfy him of the matter. Among the rest came one in before him, an old man with a white head, and one that was thought to be little less than a hundred years old. When Mr Moore saw this aged man he called him unto him and said, Father, tell me, if you can, what is the cause of the great arising of the sand here about this harbour, which stops it up, so that no ships can arrive here. You are the oldest man I can espy in all the company, so that if any man can tell the cause of it you in all likelihood can say most of it. Yea, forsooth, good Mr Moore, quoth the old man, for I am well-nigh one hundred years old, and no man in this company anywhere near my age. Well then, quoth Mr Moore, how say you to this matter, what think you to be the cause? Forsooth, sir, I think that Tenterden Steeple is the cause of Goodwin's Sands. I remember the building of Tenterden Steeple, and before that was in building there was no manner of talking of any flats or sands that stopped up the haven, and therefore I think that the Tenterden Steeple is the cause of the decay and destroying of Sandwich Haven." This was the tale as the bishop told it, and the explanation seems particularly far-fetched; but one story is good until another is told, and though this as it stands supplied the material for the proverb, there is really a supplement. Time out of mind money was constantly collected to fence the eastern shore of Kent against the inroads of the sea, and such sums were deposited in the hands of the Bishop of Rochester. For many years, the work being so well done, no irruption took place, and the bishop diverted some of the money to the building of a steeple to Tenterden Church. People dwelt in a false security, and the dykes were gradually growing weaker, until at last the catastrophe came. The old man's tale was quite rational, had he been allowed to finish it, but the audience, impatient of his garrulousness, and ready for a laugh at his expense, did not give him an opportunity to do so. It was not the ignorance of the speaker but the impatience of the auditors that supplies the true moral of the story.
Any extended reference to old collections of proverbs, to county histories, to old plays, and such-like sources of information would readily yield a large harvest of these local allusions, but enough has been brought forward to illustrate the nature of them, and for our purpose a specimen twenty is as satisfying as an illustrative hundred.
FOOTNOTES:
[125:A] A South African species of this genus is called by the settlers and natives, "Waht en beetje"—wait a bit, because its crooked thorns catch their clothes as they journey.
[125:B] A quaint and true old proverb that says cheese and means it too is this, "The king's cheese goes half away in parings," so many dependants being ready to help themselves to a share of it.
[126:A] Holland's translation.
[129:A] The Italians have it, "Chi prende, si vende"—"He sells himself who accepts a gift."
"Easy it is
Of a cut loaf to steal a shive."—"Titus Andronicus."
[131:A] "Every man has just as much of vanity as he wants understanding."
[131:B] Another old English proverb says, "Send a fool to market and a fool he will come back." The Italians have it, "Chi bestia va à Roma bestia retorna," and the ancient Romans made the discovery that "Cœlum non animam mutant qui trans mare currunt."
[131:C] "The man that once did sell the lion's skin while the beast lived, was killed with hunting him."—Shakespeare, Henry V.
[132:A] "Kleine Diebe henkt man, vor grosser zieht man den Hut ab"—"Petty thieves are hanged," say the Germans, "but people take off their hats to great ones."
[134:A] Or again: "If you crush spice it will be the sweeter."
[136:A] A poem full of suggestive thoughts, as, for instance:—
"He that in southe no vertu usit,
In age alle honure hym refusit."
"Ever the hiere that thou art,
Ever the lower be thy hert."
"Deme the best of every doute,
Tyl the truthe be tryed out."
[136:B] "'Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours, and ask them what report they bore to heaven." "Think nought a trifle, though it small appear, sands make the mountain, moments make the year, and trifles life."
[137:A] "To wilful men the injuries which they themselves procure must be their schoolmasters"; or, in more colloquial phrase, "Experience is a dear school, but fools learn in no other."
[140:A] This side of the question may be seen somewhat forcibly put in John Halle's "Historick Expostulation against the beastlye Abuses of Chyrurgerie and Physicke," 1565.
"Aske Medicus counsell ere medcine ye make,
And honour that man for necessitie's sake,
Though thousands hate physick because of the cost,
Yet thousands it helpeth that else should be lost."
"Five hundred pointes of good husbandrie," by Tusser, 1573. It will be noted that it is "ye make"; nowadays it would have to be written "ye take." The verse is from a section on "Good huswifelie physicke." The farmer's wife herself cultivates a goodly store of
"Cold herbes in her garden for agues that burne,
That ouer strong heate to good temper may turne,"
such as "Endiue and Suckerie," "Water of Fumentorie, liver to coole." "Conserve of the Barbarie, quinces as such, With Sirops that easeth the sickly so much," must also be provided, to say nothing of "Spinnage ynough."
[145:A] In Shakespeare's "Henry V." we read how the Constable of France and the Duke of Orleans thus bandied proverbs: "Orl. Ill will never said well. Con. I will cap that proverb with—there is flattery in friendship. Orl. And I will take that up with—give the devil his due. You are the better at proverbs, by how much?—a fool's bolt is soon shot."
[149:A] "Set thee up waymarks."—Jeremiah xxi. 21.
"Is this the path of sanctity? Is this
To stand a waymark in the road to bliss?"
—Cowper, Progress of Error.
[150:A] In some cases it is "backer," as though the comparative, "more back."
[151:A] "Nydyote" is really an idiot, even as "naddere" in old books is really an adder.
[153:A] "Many, when a thing was lent them, reckoned it to be found, and put them to trouble that helped them. Till he hath received he will kiss a man's hand; and for his neighbour's money he will speak submissively: but when he should repay he will prolong the time, and return words of grief, and complain of the time."—Ecclesiasticus, B.C. 200.
An old English proverb declares that "Lent seems short to him that borrows money to be paid at Easter."
[156:A] This thinness would appear to have been of bulk, not of quality. "Some preferre Cheshire Cheese, and others also commend the cheese of other countries; but Banbury Cheese shall goe for my money."—Cogan's Haven of Health, 1612.
[157:A] "Few capons, save what have more fins than feathers, are bred in Yarmouth. But to countenance this expression, I understand that the Italian Friers, when disposed to eat flesh on Fridays, call a capon 'piscem e corte,' a fish of the coop."—Fuller.
[157:B] A Doctor of Divinity, fearing, we may presume, that such high praise might turn a head here and there, improved the occasion for the benefit of these ladies—"I believe that the God of Nature, having given fair complection to the Women in this County, Art may spare her pains in endeavouring to better them. But let the Females of this County know that, though in the Old Testament express notice be taken of the beauty of many Women—Sarah, Rebekah, Rachael, Abigail, Thamar, Abishag, Esther—yet in the New Testament no mention is made at all of the fairness of any Woman, not because they wanted, but because Grace is chief Gospel-beauty, and this is far better than skin-deep Fairness."
[158:A] A proverb of like import is this, "He talks in the bear-garden tongue."
