第17章
Agentleman！
What，o’thewoolpack？orthesugar—chest？
Orlistsofvelvet？whichis’t，pound，oryard，
Youvendyourgentryby？
BEGGAR’SBUSH。
THEREarefewplacesmorefavorabletothestudyofcharacterthan
anEnglishcountrychurch。Iwasoncepassingafewweeksatthe
seatofafriend，whoresidedinthevicinityofone，theappearance
ofwhichparticularlystruckmyfancy。Itwasoneofthoserich
morselsofquaintantiquitywhichgivesuchapeculiarcharmto
Englishlandscape。Itstoodinthemidstofacountryfilledwith
ancientfamilies，andcontained，withinitscoldandsilentaisles，
thecongregateddustofmanynoblegenerations。Theinteriorwalls
wereincrustedwithmonumentsofeveryageandstyle。Thelight
streamedthroughwindowsdimmedwitharmorialbearings，richly
emblazonedinstainedglass。Invariouspartsofthechurchweretombs
ofknights，andhigh—borndames，ofgorgeousworkmanship，withtheir
effigiesincoloredmarble。Oneverysidetheeyewasstruckwithsome
instanceofaspiringmortality；somehaughtymemorialwhichhuman
pridehaderectedoveritskindreddust，inthistempleofthemost
humbleofallreligions。
Thecongregationwascomposedoftheneighboringpeopleofrank，who
satinpews，sumptuouslylinedandcushioned，furnishedwith
richly—gildedprayer—books，anddecoratedwiththeirarmsuponthepew
doors；ofthevillagersandpeasantry，whofilledthebackseats，
andasmallgallerybesidetheorgan；andofthepooroftheparish，
whowererangedonbenchesintheaisles。
Theservicewasperformedbyasnufflingwell—fedvicar，whohada
snugdwellingnearthechurch。Hewasaprivilegedguestatallthe
tablesoftheneighborhood，andhadbeenthekeenestfox—hunterinthe
country；untilageandgoodlivinghaddisabledhimfromdoingany
thingmorethanridetoseethehoundsthrowoff，andmakeoneat
thehuntingdinner。
Undertheministryofsuchapastor，Ifounditimpossibletoget
intothetrainofthoughtsuitabletothetimeandplace：so，
having，likemanyotherfeebleChristians，compromisedwithmy
conscience，bylayingthesinofmyowndelinquencyatanother
person’sthreshold，Ioccupiedmyselfbymakingobservationsonmy
neighbors。
IwasasyetastrangerinEngland，andcurioustonoticethe
mannersofitsfashionableclasses。Ifound，asusual，thatthere
wastheleastpretensionwheretherewasthemostacknowledgedtitle
torespect。Iwasparticularlystruck，forinstance，withthefamily
ofanoblemanofhighrank，consistingofseveralsonsand
daughters。Nothingcouldbemoresimpleandunassumingthantheir
appearance，Theygenerallycametochurchintheplainestequipage，
andoftenonfoot。Theyoungladieswouldstopandconverseinthe
kindestmannerwiththepeasantry，caressthechildren，andlisten
tothestoriesofthehumblecottagers。Theircountenanceswereopen
andbeautifullyfair，withanexpressionofhighrefinement，but，at
thesametime，afrankcheerfulness，andanengagingaffability。Their
brothersweretall，andelegantlyformed。Theyweredressed
fashionably，butsimply；withstrictneatnessandpropriety，but
withoutanymannerismorfoppishness。Theirwholedemeanorwaseasy
andnatural，withthatloftygrace，andnoblefrankness，whichbespeak
freebornsoulsthathaveneverbeencheckedintheirgrowthby
feelingsofinferiority。Thereisahealthfulhardinessaboutreal
dignity，thatneverdreadscontactandcommunionwithothers，
howeverhumble。Itisonlyspuriouspridethatismorbidand
sensitive，andshrinksfromeverytouch。Iwaspleasedtoseethe
mannerinwhichtheywouldconversewiththepeasantryaboutthose
ruralconcernsandfield—sports，inwhichthegentlemenofthis
countrysomuchdelight。Intheseconversationstherewasneither
haughtinessontheonepart，norservilityontheother；andyou
wereonlyremindedofthedifferenceofrankbythe。habitual
respectofthepeasant。
Incontrasttothesewasthefamilyofawealthycitizen，whohad
amassedavastfortune；and，havingpurchasedtheestateandmansion
ofaruinednoblemanintheneighborhood，wasendeavoringtoassume
allthestyleanddignityofanhereditarylordofthesoil。The
familyalwayscametochurchenprince。Theywererolled
majesticallyalonginacarriageemblazonedwitharms。Thecrest
glitteredinsilverradiancefromeverypartoftheharnesswherea
crestcouldpossiblybeplaced。Afatcoachman，inathree—cornered
hat，richlylaced，andaflaxenwig，curlingcloseroundhisrosy
face，wasseatedonthebox，withasleekDanishdogbesidehim。Two
footmen，ingorgeousliveries，withhugebouquets，andgold—headed
canes，lolledbehind。Thecarriageroseandsunkonitslongsprings
withpeculiarstatelinessofmotion。Theveryhorseschampedtheir
bits，archedtheirnecks，andglancedtheireyesmoreproudlythan
commonhorses；eitherbecausetheyhadcaughtalittleofthefamily
feeling，orwerereinedupmoretightlythanordinary。
Icouldnotbutadmirethestylewithwhichthissplendidpageant
wasbroughtuptothegateofthechurch—yard。Therewasavasteffect
producedattheturningofanangleofthewall；—agreatsmacking
ofthewhip，strainingandscramblingofhorses，glisteningof
harness，andflashingofwheelsthroughgravel。Thiswasthemomentof
triumphandvainglorytothecoachman。Thehorseswereurgedand
checkeduntiltheywerefrettedintoafoam。Theythrewouttheirfeet
inaprancingtrot，dashingaboutpebblesateverystep。Thecrowd
ofvillagerssaunteringquietlytochurch，openedprecipitatelytothe
rightandleft，gapinginvacantadmiration。Onreachingthegate，the
horseswerepulledupwithasuddennessthatproducedanimmediate
stop，andalmostthrewthemontheirhaunches。
Therewasanextraordinaryhurryofthefootmantoalight，pulldown
thesteps，andprepareeverythingforthedescentonearthofthis
augustfamily。Theoldcitizenfirstemergedhisroundredfacefrom
outthedoor，lookingabouthimwiththepompousairofaman
accustomedtoruleon’Change，andshaketheStockMarketwitha
nod。Hisconsort，afine，fleshy，comfortabledame，followedhim。
Thereseemed，Imustconfess，butlittleprideinhercomposition。She
wasthepictureofbroad，honest，vulgarenjoyment。Theworldwent
wellwithher；andshelikedtheworld。Shehadfineclothes，afine
house，afinecarriage，finechildren，everythingwasfineabouther：
itwasnothingbutdrivingabout，andvisitingandfeasting。Life
wastoheraperpetualrevel；itwasonelongLordMayor’sday。
Twodaughterssucceededtothisgoodlycouple。Theycertainlywere
handsome；buthadasuperciliousair，thatchilledadmiration，and
disposedthespectatortobecritical。Theywereultra—fashionable
indress；and，thoughnoonecoulddenytherichnessoftheir
decorations，yettheirappropriatenessmightbequestionedamidst
thesimplicityofacountrychurch。Theydescendedloftilyfromthe
carriage，andmovedupthelineofpeasantrywithastepthatseemed
daintyofthesoilittrodon。Theycastanexcursiveglancearound，
thatpassedcoldlyovertheburlyfacesofthepeasantry，untilthey
mettheeyesofthenobleman’sfamily，whentheircountenances
immediatelybrightenedintosmiles，andtheymadethemostprofound
andelegantcourtesies，whichwerereturnedinamannerthatshowed
theywerebutslightacquaintances。
Imustnotforgetthetwosonsofthisaspiringcitizen，whocameto
churchinadashingcurricle，withoutriders。Theywerearrayedinthe
extremityofthemode，withallthatpedantryofdresswhichmarksthe
manofquestionablepretensionstostyle。Theykeptentirelyby
themselves，eyeingeveryoneaskancethatcamenearthem，asif
measuringhisclaimstorespectability；yettheywerewithout
conversation，excepttheexchangeofanoccasionalcantphrase。They
evenmovedartificially；fortheirbodies，incompliancewiththe
capriceoftheday，hadbeendisciplinedintotheabsenceofall
easeandfreedom。Arthaddoneeverythingtoaccomplishthemasmen
offashion，butnaturehaddeniedthemthenamelessgrace。Theywere
vulgarlyshaped，likemenformedforthecommonpurposesoflife，
andhadthatairofsuperciliousassumptionwhichisneverseeninthe
truegentleman。
Ihavebeenratherminuteindrawingthepicturesofthesetwo
families，becauseIconsideredthemspecimensofwhatisoftentobe
metwithinthiscountry—theunpretendinggreat，andthearrogant
little。Ihavenorespectfortitledrank，unlessitbeaccompanied
withtruenobilityofsoul；butIhaveremarkedinallcountrieswhere
artificialdistinctionsexist，thattheveryhighestclassesare
alwaysthemostcourteousandunassuming。Thosewhoarewellassured
oftheirownstandingareleastapttotrespassonthatofothers；
whereasnothingissooffensiveastheaspiringsofvulgarity，which
thinkstoelevateitselfbyhumiliatingitsneighbor。
AsIhavebroughtthesefamiliesintocontrast，Imustnotice
theirbehaviorinchurch。Thatofthenobleman’sfamilywasquiet，
serious，andattentive。Notthattheyappearedtohaveanyfervorof
devotion，butratherarespectforsacredthings，andsacredplaces，
inseparablefromgoodbreeding。Theothers，onthecontrary，wereina
perpetualflutterandwhisper；theybetrayedacontinualconsciousness
offinery，andasorryambitionofbeingthewondersofarural
congregation。
Theoldgentlemanwastheonlyonereallyattentivetothe
service。Hetookthewholeburdenoffamilydevotionuponhimself，
standingboltupright，andutteringtheresponseswithaloudvoice
thatmightbeheardalloverthechurch。Itwasevidentthathewas
oneofthosethoroughchurchandkingmen，whoconnecttheideaof
devotionandloyalty；whoconsidertheDeity，somehoworother，ofthe
governmentparty，andreligion"averyexcellentsortofthing，that
oughttobecountenancedandkeptup。"
Whenhejoinedsoloudlyintheservice，itseemedmorebywayof
exampletothelowerorders，toshowthemthat，thoughsogreatand
wealthy，hewasnotabovebeingreligious；asIhaveseenaturtle—fed
aldermanswallowpubliclyabasinofcharitysoup，smackinghislips
ateverymouthful，andpronouncingit"excellentfoodforthepoor。"
Whentheservicewasatanend，Iwascurioustowitnesstheseveral
exitsofmygroups。Theyoungnoblemenandtheirsisters，astheday
wasfine，preferredstrollinghomeacrossthefields，chattingwith
thecountrypeopleastheywent。Theothersdepartedastheycame，
ingrandparade。Againweretheequipageswheeleduptothegate。
Therewasagainthesmackingofwhips，theclatteringofhoofs，and
theglitteringofharness。Thehorsesstartedoffalmostatabound；
thevillagersagainhurriedtorightandleft；thewheelsthrewupa
cloudofdust；andtheaspiringfamilywasraptoutofsightina
whirlwind。
THEEND。
1819—20
THESKETCHBOOK
THEINNKITCHEN
byWashingtonIrving
ShallInottakemineeaseinmineinn？
FALSTAFF。
DURINGajourneythatIoncemadethroughtheNetherlands，Ihad
arrivedoneeveningatthePommed’Or，theprincipalinnofasmall
Flemishvillage。Itwasafterthehourofthetabled’hote，sothat
Iwasobligedtomakeasolitarysupperfromtherelicsofits
amplerboard。Theweatherwaschilly；Iwasseatedaloneinoneendof
agreatgloomydining—room，and，myrepastbeingover，Ihadthe
prospectbeforemeofalongdullevening，withoutanyvisiblemeans
ofenliveningit。Isummonedminehost，andrequestedsomethingto
read；hebroughtmethewholeliterarystockofhishousehold，aDutch
familyBible，analmanacinthesamelanguage，andanumberofold
Parisnewspapers。AsIsatdozingoveroneofthelatter，reading
oldandstalecriticisms，myearwasnowandthenstruckwithbursts
oflaughterwhichseemedtoproceedfromthekitchen。Everyonethat
hastravelledonthecontinentmustknowhowfavoritearesortthe
kitchenofacountryinnistothemiddleandinferiororderof
travellers；particularlyinthatequivocalkindofweather，whena
firebecomesagreeabletowardevening。Ithrewasidethenewspaper，
andexploredmywaytothekitchen，totakeapeepatthegroupthat
appearedtobesomerry。Itwascomposedpartlyoftravellerswho
hadarrivedsomehoursbeforeinadiligence，andpartlyofthe
usualattendantsandhangers—onofinns。Theywereseatedrounda
greatburnishedstove，thatmighthavebeenmistakenforanaltar，
atwhichtheywereworshipping。Itwascoveredwithvariouskitchen
vesselsofresplendentbrightness；amongwhichsteamedandhisseda
hugecoppertea—kettle。Alargelampthrewastrongmassoflightupon
thegroup，bringingoutmanyoddfeaturesinstrongrelief。Itsyellow
rayspartiallyilluminedthespaciouskitchen，dyingduskilyawayinto
remotecorners；exceptwheretheysettledinmellowradianceonthe
broadsideofaflitchofbacon，orwerereflectedbackfrom
well—scouredutensils，thatgleamedfromthemidstofobscurity。A
strappingFlemishlass，withlonggoldenpendantsinherears，anda
necklacewithagoldenheartsuspendedtoit，wasthepresiding
priestessofthetemple。
Manyofthecompanywerefurnishedwithpipes，andmostofthemwith
somekindofeveningpotation。Ifoundtheirmirthwasoccasionedby
anecdotes，whichalittleswarthyFrenchman，withadryweazenface
andlargewhiskers，wasgivingofhisloveadventures；attheendof
eachofwhichtherewasoneofthoseburstsofhonestunceremonious
laughter，inwhichamanindulgesinthattempleoftrueliberty，an
inn。
AsIhadnobettermodeofgettingthroughatediousblustering
evening，Itookmyseatnearthestove，andlistenedtoavarietyof
travellers’tales，someveryextravagant，andmostverydull。Allof
them，however，havefadedfrommytreacherousmemoryexceptone，which
Iwillendeavortorelate。Ifear，however，itderiveditschief
zestfromthemannerinwhichitwastold，andthepeculiarairand
appearanceofthenarrator。HewasacorpulentoldSwiss，whohad
thelookofaveterantraveller。Hewasdressedinatarnishedgreen
travelling—jacket，withabroadbeltroundhiswaist，andapairof
overalls，withbuttonsfromthehipstotheankles。Hewasofa
full，rubicundcountenance，withadoublechin，aquilinenose，anda
pleasant，twinklingeye。Hishairwaslight，andcurledfromunder
anoldgreenvelvettravelling—capstuckononesideofhishead。He
wasinterruptedmorethanoncebythearrivalofguests，orthe
remarksofhisauditors；andpausednowandthentoreplenishhis
pipe；atwhichtimeshehadgenerallyaroguishleer，andaslyjoke
forthebuxomkitchen—maid。
Iwishmyreaderscouldimaginetheoldfellowlollinginahuge
arm—chair，onearmakimbo，theotherholdingacuriouslytwisted
tobaccopipe，formedofgenuineecumedemer，decoratedwithsilver
chainandsilkentassel—hisheadcockedononeside，anda
whimsicalcutoftheeyeoccasionally，asherelatedthefollowing
story。
THEEND。
1819—20
THESKETCHBOOK
THEMUTABILITYOFLITERATURE
ACOLLOQUYINWESTMINSTERABBEY
byWashingtonIrving
Iknowthatallbeneaththemoondecays，
Andwhatbymortalsinthisworldisbrought，
Intime’sgreatperiodshallreturntonought。
Iknowthatallthemuse’sheavenlylays，
Withtoilofspritewhicharesodearlybought，
Asidlesounds，offewornonearesought，
Thatthereisnothinglighterthanmerepraise。
DRUMMONDOFHAWTHORNDEN。
THEREarecertainhalf—dreamingmoodsofmind，inwhichwenaturally
stealawayfromnoiseandglare，andseeksomequiethaunt，wherewe
mayindulgeourreveriesandbuildouraircastlesundisturbed。In
suchamoodIwasloiteringabouttheoldgraycloistersof
WestminsterAbbey，enjoyingthatluxuryofwanderingthoughtwhichone
isapttodignifywiththenameofreflection；whensuddenlyan
interruptionofmadcapboysfromWestminsterschool，playingat
foot—ball，brokeinuponthemonasticstillnessoftheplace，making
thevaultedpassagesandmoulderingtombsechowiththeirmerriment。I
soughttotakerefugefromtheirnoisebypenetratingstilldeeper
intothesolitudesofthepile，andappliedtooneofthevergers
foradmissiontothelibrary。Heconductedmethroughaportalrich
withthecrumblingsculptureofformerages，whichopenedupona
gloomypassageleadingtothechapter—houseandthechamberinwhich
doomsdaybookisdeposited。Justwithinthepassageisasmalldooron
theleft。Tothisthevergerappliedakey；itwasdoublelocked，
andopenedwithsomedifficulty，asifseldomused。Wenowascended
adarknarrowstaircase，and，passingthroughaseconddoor，entered
thelibrary。
Ifoundmyselfinaloftyantiquehall，theroofsupportedby
massivejoistsofoldEnglishoak。Itwassoberlylightedbyarow
ofGothicwindowsataconsiderableheightfromthefloor，andwhich
apparentlyopenedupontheroofsofthecloisters。Anancient
pictureofsomereverenddignitaryofthechurchinhisrobeshung
overthefireplace。Aroundthehallandinasmallgallerywerethe
books，arrangedincarvedoakencases。Theyconsistedprincipallyof
oldpolemicalwriters，andweremuchmorewornbytimethanuse。In
thecentreofthelibrarywasasolitarytablewithtwoorthreebooks
onit，aninkstandwithoutink，andafewpensparchedbylongdisuse。
Theplaceseemedfittedforquietstudyandprofoundmeditation。It
wasburieddeepamongthemassivewallsoftheabbey，andshutupfrom
thetumultoftheworld。Icouldonlyhearnowandthentheshouts
oftheschool—boysfaintlyswellingfromthecloisters，andthe
soundofabelltollingforprayers，echoingsoberlyalongtheroofs
oftheabbey。Bydegreestheshoutsofmerrimentgrewfainterand
fainter，andatlengthdiedaway；thebellceasedtotoll，anda
profoundsilencereignedthroughtheduskyhall。
Ihadtakendownalittlethickquarto，curiouslyboundin
parchment，withbrassclasps，andseatedmyselfatthetableina
venerableelbow—chair。Insteadofreading，however，Iwasbeguiled
bythesolemnmonasticair，andlifelessquietoftheplace，intoa
trainofmusing。AsIlookedaroundupontheoldvolumesintheir
moulderingcovers，thusrangedontheshelves，andapparentlynever
disturbedintheirrepose，Icouldnotbutconsiderthelibraryakind
ofliterarycatacomb，whereauthors，likemummies，arepiously
entombed，andlefttoblackenandmoulderindustyoblivion。
Howmuch，thoughtI，haseachofthesevolumes，nowthrustaside
withsuchindifference，costsomeachinghead！howmanywearydays！
howmanysleeplessnights！Howhavetheirauthorsburiedthemselvesin
thesolitudeofcellsandcloisters；shutthemselvesupfromthe
faceofman，andthestillmoreblessedfaceofnature；anddevoted
themselvestopainfulresearchandintensereflection！Andallfor
what？tooccupyaninchofdustyshelf—tohavethetitleoftheir
worksreadnowandtheninafutureage，bysomedrowsychurchmanor
casualstragglerlikemyself；andinanotheragetobelost，evento
remembrance。Suchistheamountofthisboastedimmortality。Amere
temporaryrumor，alocalsound；likethetoneofthatbellwhichhas
justtolledamongthesetowers，fillingtheearforamoment—
lingeringtransientlyinecho—andthenpassingawaylikeathingthat
wasnot！
WhileIsathalfmurmuring，halfmeditatingtheseunprofitable
speculationswithmyheadrestingonmyhand，Iwasthrummingwiththe
otherhanduponthequarto，untilIaccidentallyloosenedthe
clasps；when，tomyutterastonishment，thelittlebookgavetwoor
threeyawns，likeoneawakingfromadeepsleep；thenahuskyhem；and
atlengthbegantotalk。Atfirstitsvoicewasveryhoarseand
broken，beingmuchtroubledbyacobwebwhichsomestudiousspiderhad
wovenacrossit；andhavingprobablycontractedacoldfromlong
exposuretothechillsanddampsoftheabbey。Inashorttime，
however，itbecamemoredistinct，andIsoonfounditanexceedingly
fluentconversablelittletome。Itslanguage，tobesure，wasrather
quaintandobsolete，anditspronunciation，what，inthepresent
day，wouldbedeemedbarbarous；butIshallendeavor，asfarasIam
able，torenderitinmodernparlance。
Itbeganwithrailingsabouttheneglectoftheworld—aboutmerit
beingsufferedtolanguishinobscurity，andothersuchcommonplace
topicsofliteraryrepining，andcomplainedbitterlythatithadnot
beenopenedformorethantwocenturies。Thatthedeanonlylookednow
andthenintothelibrary，sometimestookdownavolumeortwo，
trifledwiththemforafewmoments，andthenreturnedthemtotheir
shelves。"Whataplaguedotheymean，"saidthelittlequarto，whichI
begantoperceivewassomewhatcholeric，"whataplaguedotheymean
bykeepingseveralthousandvolumesofusshutuphere，andwatchedby
asetofoldvergers，likesomanybeautiesinaharem，merelytobe
lookedatnowandthenbythedean？Bookswerewrittentogive
pleasureandtobeenjoyed；andIwouldhavearulepassedthatthe
deanshouldpayeachofusavisitatleastonceayear；orifheis
notequaltothetask，letthemonceinawhileturnloosethewhole
schoolofWestminsteramongus，thatatanyratewemaynowandthen
haveanairing。"
"Softly，myworthyfriend，"repliedI，"youarenotawarehowmuch
betteryouareoffthanmostbooksofyourgeneration。Bybeingstored
awayinthisancientlibrary，youarelikethetreasuredremainsof
thosesaintsandmonarchs，whichlieenshrinedintheadjoining
chapels；whiletheremainsofyourcontemporarymortals，lefttothe
ordinarycourseofnature，havelongsincereturnedtodust。"
"Sir，"saidthelittletome，rufflinghisleavesandlookingbig，"I
waswrittenforalltheworld，notforthebookwormsofanabbey。I
wasintendedtocirculatefromhandtohand，likeothergreat
contemporaryworks；butherehaveIbeenclaspedupformorethan
twocenturies，andmighthavesilentlyfallenapreytotheseworms
thatareplayingtheveryvengeancewithmyintestines，ifyouhadnot
bychancegivenmeanopportunityofutteringafewlastwords
beforeIgotopieces。"
"Mygoodfriend，"rejoinedI，"hadyoubeenlefttothe
circulationofwhichyouspeak，youwouldlongerethishavebeenno
more。Tojudgefromyourphysiognomy，youarenowwellstrickenin
years：veryfewofyourcontemporariescanbeatpresentinexistence；
andthosefewowetheirlongevitytobeingimmuredlikeyourselfin
oldlibraries；which，suffermetoadd，insteadoflikeningtoharems，
youmightmoreproperlyandgratefullyhavecomparedtothose
infirmariesattachedtoreligiousestablishments，forthebenefitof
theoldanddecrepit，andwhere，byquietfosteringandnoemployment，
theyoftenenduretoanamazinglygood—for—nothingoldage。Youtalk
ofyourcontemporariesasifincirculation—wheredowemeetwith
theirworks？whatdowehearofRobertGroteste，ofLincoln？Noone
couldhavetoiledharderthanheforimmortality。Heissaidtohave
writtennearlytwohundredvolumes。Hebuilt，atitwere，apyramidof
bookstoperpetuatehisname：but，alas！thepyramidhaslongsince
fallen，andonlyafewfragmentsarescatteredinvariouslibraries，
wheretheyarescarcelydisturbedevenbytheantiquarian。Whatdo
wehearofGiraldusCambrensis，thehistorian，antiquary，philosopher，
theologian，andpoet？Hedeclinedtwobishoprics，thathemightshut
himselfupandwriteforposterity；butposterityneverinquiresafter
hislabors。WhatofHenryofHuntingdon，who，besidesalearned
historyofEngland，wroteatreatiseonthecontemptoftheworld，
whichtheworldhasrevengedbyforgettinghim？Whatisquotedof
JosephofExeter，styledthemiracleofhisageinclassical
composition？Ofhisthreegreatheroicpoemsoneislostforever，
exceptingamerefragment；theothersareknownonlytoafewofthe
curiousinliterature；andastohisloveversesandepigrams，they
haveentirelydisappeared。WhatisincurrentuseofJohnWallis，
theFranciscan，whoacquiredthenameofthetreeoflife？Of
WilliamofMalmsbury；—ofSimeonofDurham；—ofBenedictof
Peterborough；—ofJohnHanvillofSt。Albans；—of—"