CHAPTER XVI.
Analecta.
IT was not till the Greeks and Romans had arrived at an advanced stage of civilisation that scope was afforded to the class of writers of whom we are accustomed to regard Athenæus and Aulus Gellius as typical examples; and somewhat on a similar principle the development of the jest in the more modern acceptation is traceable back only to a certain stage of social order, when a perception of the ridiculous or eccentric was quickened into life by the establishment of an artificial standard among us of politeness and opinion.
Another and distinct section of jest-books consists of what may be treated as the pioneers of the English Ana—collections made by editors from other books and from hearsay among their friends or in company; and of these I shall content myself with adducing as specimens—
1. Wits, Fits, and Fancies, by Anthony Copley, 1595.
2. Certain Conceits and Jests, 1614.
3. Wit and Mirth, by John Taylor the Water Poet, 1629.
4. Conceits, Clinches, Flashes, and Whimzies, by Robert Chamberlain, 1639.
5. Joe Miller’s Jest-Book, 1739.
A century and ten years elapsed between the publications of Taylor and Miller; but the earliest edition of the latter was barely more than a pamphlet, and would not be at first sight recognised by those who are only familiar with the more recent issues, in which the original text has been amplified and overlaid, till the slender proportions of the shilling book of 1739 are completely effaced.
The copious title of Taylor’s performance speaks for itself: “Wit and Mirth, chargeably collected out of Taverns, Ordinaries, Inns, Bowling Greens and Alleys, Alehouses, Tobacco-shops, Highways, and Water-passages, made up and fashioned into Clinches, Bulls, Quirks, Yerks, Quips, and Jerks.” The arrangement closely follows that of Tarlton’s Jests and the Conceits and Jests; but the plan is widely dissimilar, since Taylor has comparatively little to say about himself, and the work, such as it is, is his own; whereas Tarlton stood to the book which carries his name merely in the relation of sponsor, and the whole is devoted by the actual editor to him and his real or putative extravagances.
The self-evident truth is, that Master Taylor jotted down every smart saying or racy passage which fell in his way by road or river, or wherever his professional and private engagements happened to take him. He was rather indiscriminate and not very squeamish; and his budget exhibits wares of all sorts as well as of all shades of quality and every variety of character, new and old, original and borrowed, prose and verse. Yet, taken as a whole, the farrago has very great general merit; and we must be content to set what is dull and dirty, clumsy sophistications or inferior variants, against the moderate residue of valuable permanent matter, where we get unique touches of contemporary persons or little insights into the thought and habits of the age. The whole, if the author is to be believed, underwent at his ingenious and experienced hands a sort of churning process; and, altogether, it is a book which we lay down, as we do all others of the kind, with an uncertain and dissatisfied sensation.
If I transcribe three samples from the Wit and Mirth, it must be with the proviso that no one shall blame me if, on resorting to the work, they do not meet with much more of equal excellence:—
“Master Thomas Coriat (on a time) complained against me to King James, desiring his Majesty that he would cause some heavy punishment to be inflicted upon me for abusing him in writing (as he said I had); to whom the King replied, that when the lords of his honourable privy council had leisure, and nothing else to do, then they should hear and determine the differences betwixt Master Coriat the scholar and John Taylor the sculler; which answer of the King was very acceptable to Master Coriat.”
“A soldier upon his march found a horse-shoe and stuck it at his girdle, when, passing through a wood, some of the enemy lay in ambush, and one of them discharged his musket; and the shot by chance lighted against the fellow’s horse-shoe. ‘Ha! Ha!’ quoth he, ‘I perceive that little armour will serve a man’s turn, if it be put on in the right place!’”
“A chorister, or singing-man, at service in a cathedral church, was asleep when all his fellows were singing; which the Dean espying, sent a boy to him to waken him, and asked him why he did not sing. He, being suddenly awaked, prayed the boy to thank Master Dean for his kind remembrance, and to tell him that he was as merry as those that did sing.”
There is a story about Barkstead, the poet and actor, which is hardly suitable for repetition, although it reminds us of one narrated of St. Louis of France; and there is a second of Field the dramatist, which is not worth quoting. The account of the drowsy chorister really refers to Richard Woolner, who belonged in the early years of Elizabeth to the choir at Windsor, and whose propensity for somnolence was doubtless occasioned or aggravated by his voracious appetite. This Richard Woolner was a pleasant fellow in his intervals of consciousness; and in 1567 an account of him and his oddities, no longer known, appears to have been printed. Sir John Harington mentions him in his Brief View of the State of the Church.
