Notes.
PARTY-SIMILES OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY—NO. I. "FOXES AND FIREBRANDS." NO. II. "THE TROJAN HORSE."
With Englishmen, at least, the seventeenth was a century pre-eminent for quaint conceits and fantastic similes: the literature of that period, whether devotional, poetical, or polemical[[1]], was alike infected with the universal mania for strained metaphors, and men vied with each other in giving extraordinary titles to books, and making the
contents justify the title. Extravagance and the far-fetched were the gauge of wit: Donne, Herbert, and many a man of genius foundered on this rock, as well as Cowley, who acted up to his own definition:
"In a true Piece of Wit all things must be,
Yet all things there agree;
As in the Ark, join'd without force or strife,
All creatures dwelt—all creatures that had life."
It is not, however, for the purpose of illustrating this mania that I am about to dwell on the two similes which form the subject of my present Note: I selected them as favourite party-similes which formed a standing dish for old Anglican writers; and also because they throw light on the history of religious party in England, and thus form a suitable supplement to my article on "High Church and Low Church" (Vol. viii., p. 117.).