Aubrey's Brief Lives

by John Aubrey

  Even during these troublous times, the Court was still the cultural centre of the nation, and the circle of poets and playwrights that usually clustered round the King, was augmented by the very fact of the war. Many men were in the same case as John Cleveland, the Cambridge poet, who, being turned out of his Fellowship for a malignant, came to Oxford, where the King’s Army was, and was much caressed by them. And it was while the King was in residence at Christ Church that William Cartwright, the dramatist, was buried in the cathedral there at the early age of thirty-two. Pitty ’tis so famous a bard should lye without an Inscription, Aubrey thought, for his contemporaries had expected great things from him: ’Tis not to be forgott that King Charles Ist. dropt a teare at the newes of his death. In view of this sensibility, it is astounding to find that the manners of the Court were so foul. For in the next reign, Anthony Wood was to write: “To give a further character of the court, though they were neat and gay in their apparell, yet they were very nasty and beastly, leaving at their departure their excrements in every corner, in chimneys, studies, cole-houses, cellars. Rude, rough, whoremongers; vaine, empty, careless.” With this attack Aubrey was in full agreement for he himself pointed out that it was the lascivious King Charles II, and not the elegant Charles I, who was the Patterne of Courtesie, and first brought good Manners into Fashion in England, and in 1670 he said, Till this time the Court itself was unpolished and unmannered. King James’s Court was so far from being civill to woemen, that the Ladies, nay the Queen herself, could hardly pass by the King’s apartment without receiving some Affront.

  Amidst all these excitements, calamity overtook John Aubrey. In Aprill I fell sick of the Small pox at Trinity College, he said, but as usual fate softened the blow for him. William Radford, my good friend and old acquaintance and fellow collegiate, was so kind as to come to me every day and spend severall houres, or I think melancholy would have spoyled a scurvy Antiquary. This illness was to mean the end of Aubrey’s University career, all the same, for he goes on to say, when I recovered, after Trinity weeke, my father sent for me into the Country again: where I conversed with none but servants and rustiques and soldiers quartred, to my great griefe, for in those dayes fathers were not acquainted with their children. It was a most sad life to me, then in the prime of my youth, not to have the benefitt of an ingeniose Conversation and scarce any good bookes—almost a consumption. For a library was not yet considered to be an essential part of a gentleman’s home: in fact, Lord Herbert of Cherbury was considered almost eccentric because he had two Libraries, one at London, the other at Montgomery.

  The war itself seems to have made little stir in Wiltshire, and it must have been a great relief when Major John Morgan fell sick of a malignant fever as he was marching with the King’s Army into the West, and was brought to my fathers at Broad Chalke, where he was lodged secretly in a garret. But though the war provided few diversions, it made the country round about even more unbearable. Surely this tract of land enclines people to zeale, exclaimed Aubrey despairingly. Heretofore nothing but religious houses, now nothing but Quakers and Fanatiqs. A sourewood country, he decided, inclines people to contemplation, so that the Bible and ease (for it is all upon dayry grasing, or clothing) setts their witts a running and reforming. And certainly the description which Aubrey left of his neighbours is most unprepossessing. In North-wiltshire, he said, (a dirty, claeyy Country) they speak (I mean the Indigenies, or Aborigines only) drawning; they are Phlegmatiq; Skins pale and livid; slow, and dull, heavy of Spirit: here about is but little Tillage, or hard labour, they only milk the Cowes and make Cheese. They feed chiefly on Milke meates, which cooles their Braines too much, and hurts their Inventions. These Circumstances make them Melancholy, contemplative, and malicious: by consequence whereof more Lawsuites come out of North Wilts, at least double to the Southern Parts. And by the same reason they are generally more apt to be Fanatiques: (In Malmesbury Hundred, &c.—wett, clayy parts: Here have ever been reputed Witches). Their persons are generally plump and foggy: gallipot Eies, and some black: but they are generally handsome enough. On the Downes (sc. the South part) where ’tis all upon Tillage, or Shepherds: and labour hard, their flesh is hard, their bodies strong: being weary after their hard labour, they have not leisure to reade, and contemplate of Religion, but goe to Bed to their rest, to rise betimes the next morning to their labour. I remember (upon the foresayd reason) that Capt. John Graunt did say, it was observed that there were no Anchor Smyths Fanaticks: for it is a mighty laborious trade: and they must drinke strong drinke to keep up their Spirits: so they never troubled their Heads with curious Notions of Religion.

  To add to the miseries of his exile in the country, Aubrey got on extremely badly with his father, who had no sympathy at all with his son’s newfangled learning. My studies (geometry) were on horse back, Aubrey confessed, and in the house of office: (my father discouraged me). For the relations between parents and children were very rigid in those days and the following passage, which Aubrey wrote in 1670, is plainly autobiographical. From the time of Erasmus till about 20 years past, the learning was downright Pedantry, he said. The conversation and habitts of those times were as stiff and starcht as their bands and square beards: and Gravity was then taken for Wisdome. The very Doctors of those days were but old boies, when quibles past for wit, even in the pulpitts. The Gentry and the Citizens had little learning of any kind, and their way of breeding up their children was suitable to the rest: for wheras ones child should be ones nearest Friend, and the time of growing-up should be most indulged, they were as severe to their children as their schoolmaster; and their Schoolmasters, as masters of the House of correction. The child perfectly loathed the sight of his parents, as the slave his Torturor. Gentlemen of 30 or 40 years old, fitt for any employment in the common wealth, were to stand like great mutes and fools bare headed before their Parents; and the Daughters (grown woemen) were to stand at the Cupboards side during the whole time of the proud mothers visitt, unless (as the fashion was) ’twas desired that leave (forsooth) should be given to them to kneele upon cushions brought them by the servingman, after they had done sufficient Penance standing. The boys (growne young fellows) had their forheads turned up, and stiffened with spittle: they were to stand mannerly forsooth, thus, the foretop ordered as before, one hand at the bandstring, the other on the breech or codpiece. The Gentlewoemen then had prodigious fannes, as is to be seen in old pictures, like that instrument which is used to drive Feathers: it had a handle at least half a yard long; with these the daughters were corrected oftentimes. (Sir Edw: Coke, Lord Chief Justice, rode the circuit with such a fan: Mr. Dugdale sawe it, who told me of it. The Earl of Manchester used also a Fan.) But fathers and mothers slash’t their daughters in the time of that Besome discipline when they were perfect woemen.

  No wonder, therefore, that Aubrey was depressed, and it was with obvious regret that he looked back upon the golden past, when the Holy-mawle hung behind the Church dore, which when the father was seaventie the sonne might fetch to knock his father in the head, as effoete, & of no more use. This sad life I did lead in the country till 1646, he said, at which time I gott (with much adoe) leave of my father to let me goe to the Middle Temple, April the 6th, 1646. But my fathers sicknesse, and businesse, never permitted me to make any settlement to my studie. Not that Aubrey had ever had any idea of making the Law his profession: the progression from University to the Temple was part of the normal education of a gentleman in those days, for only after a threefold training in the Classics, the Humanities and the Law was a man considered competent to manage his estates.

  24 June following, Aubrey records, Oxon was surrendred, and then came to London many of the King’s party, with whom I grew acquainted (many of them I knew before). I loved not debauches, he was careful to explain, but their martiall conversation was not so fitt for the Muses.

  As the Civil War dragged slowly on towards its close, the happiest period of Aubrey’s life was dawning, for he announces: Novemb. 6, I ret
urned to Trinity College in Oxon again to my great joy; was much made of by the Fellowes; had their learned conversation, lookt on bookes, musique. Here and at Middle Temple (off and on) I (for the most part) enjoyd the greatest felicity of my life (ingeniose youths, like Rosebudds, imbibe the morning dew) till Dec. 1648 (Christmas Eve’s eve) I was sent for from Oxon home again to my sick father, who never recovered. Where I was engaged to looke after his country businesse and solicite a lawe-suite, and also incidentally to continue his delvings into the past, for within a month of his return, he had stumbled upon the greatest discovery of his life time.

  Salisbury-plaines, and Stonehenge I had known from eight years old, he says, but I never saw the Countrey about Marleborough, till Christmas 1648: being then invited to the Lord Francis Seymour’s, by the Honourable Mr. Charles Seymour (then of Allington near Chippenham, since Lord Seymour) with whom I had the honour to be intimately acquainted, and whose Friendship I ought to mention with a profound respect to his memorie.

  The morrow after Twelf day, Mr. Charles Seymour and Sir William Button of Tokenham (a most parkely ground, and a Romancy-place) Baronet, mett with their packs of Hounds at the Greyweathers. These Downes looke as if they were Sow’n with great Stones, very thicke; and in a dusky evening they looke like a flock of Sheep: from whence it takes its name. One might fancy it to have been the Scene where the Giants fought with stones against the Gods. ’Twas here that our Game began: and the Chase led us (at length) through the Village of Anbury, into the Closes there: where I was wonderfully surprised at the sight of those vast stones, of which I had never heard before; as also at the mighty Banke and graffe (ditch) about it. I observed in the Inclosures some segments of rude circles, made with these stones, whence I concluded, they had been in old time complete. I left my Company a while, entertaining myself with a more delightfull indagation: and then (steered by the cry of the Hounds) overtooke the company, and went with them to Kynnet, where was a good Hunting dinner provided. Our Repast was cheerfull; which, being ended, we remounted, and beate over the Downes with our Grey-hounds. In this Afternoon’s diversion I happened to see Wensditch and an old Camp, and two or three sepulchres. The evening put a period to our sport, he concluded, and we returned to the Castle at Marleborough, where we were nobly entertained.

  Aubrey was rightly proud of his discovery, for Avebury had been completely ignored before. It is very strange, he thought, that so eminent an Antiquities should lye so long unregarded by our Chorographers. And if Aubrey had not come upon it thus, by chance, it is possible that it would have gone unregarded for ever, for the villagers were even then engaged in breaking up the stones to build new houses.

  One month later, with the execution of King Charles and the setting up of the Commonwealth, the break with the past was completed. And by a strange chance, in that very year, the modern world was born. For the idea of progress, a conception which differentiates modern civilisation from everything that has preceded it, appeared quite suddenly, and mankind, abandoning its idea of a static world, was to become increasingly familiar with the idea of development and gradual change. Till about the yeare 1649, Aubrey says, when Experimental Philosophy was first cultivated by a Club at Oxford, ’twas held a strange presumption for a Man to attempt an Innovation in Learnings; and not to be good Manners, to be more knowing than his Neighbours and Forefathers; even to attempt an improvement in Husbandry (though it succeeded with profit) was look’d upon with an ill Eie. Their Neighbours did scorne to follow it, though not to doe it, was to their own Detriment. ’Twas held a Sin to make a Scrutinie into the Waies of Nature; Whereas it is certainly a profound part of Religion to glorify God in his Workes: and to take no notice at all of what is dayly offered before our Eyes is grosse Stupidity.

  The overwhelming importance of this change of attitude cannot be exaggerated, for this freeing of the mind was to cause a violent bound forward in every branch of thought. In those times, to have had an inventive and enquiring Witt, was accounted Affectation, Aubrey concludes, which censure the famous Dr. William Harvey could not escape for his admirable Discovery of the Circulation of the Blood.

  But it was not only the mind of England which had changed: the very face of the country altered as the mighty forests that had covered the island since time immemorial were consumed by the ironworks, until Shakespeare’s Arden and the Forests and Parks of Clarendon were converted into the arable that we know to-day. In England till even now since the resprit of these Warres, there were so many Forests, Chases, and Parkes, as were not to be match’d in any Kingdome. These were Vivaries for Beastes (the design of their Lords being to preserve Game) where they were safe not only by the Pale, or Wall; but under the Protection of many severe Laws: as if they had been naturaliz’d, enfranchis’d, and Citizens of our Commonwealth. It was not always in this tone that Aubrey spoke of animals, however. At Fausby (near Daintre) in Northamptonshire, he said on another occasion, a Raven did build her Nest on the Leads between the Tower and the Steeple. The oldest Peoples Grandfathers here, did never remember, but that this Raven yearly made her Nest here; and in the late Civil warre, the Soldiers killed her. I am sorry for the Tragical end of this old Church-Bird, that lived in so many changes of Government and Relegion.

  It is always hard for us to visualise the material life of our ancestors; to remember that Queen Elizabeth, in her jewelled dresses, had to walk through her palaces on straw-covered floors. But it is on their tables that the widest difference is noticeable, and as Aubrey describes the new foods that had come into England, it is almost impossible to imagine what the people lived on before. For it was Sir Walter Raleigh, more famous for his introduction of tobacco who brought from the New World the potato, which was immediately impugned for erotic tendencies by the Elizabethans. Cherries, according to Aubrey, were first brought into Kent tempore H. viii, who being in Flanders, and likeing the Cherries, ordered his Gardener, brought them hence and propagated them in England; and it was not until Queen Elizabeth’s time that that most English of plants, Hoppes, became common in Kent. Aubrey states that about the 15th of Henry VIIIth divers things were newly brought into England, whereupon the Rythme was made

  Greeke, Heresie, Turkey-cocks, and Beer,

  Came into England all in a yeare.

  England itself remained amazingly regional, mainly because of the difficulties of transport. The Marquesse Hamilton (that was beheaded), Aubrey reports, was a great Lover of Carpes, and was at great expense (but unsuccessfull) to Carry Carpes into Scotland from England in barrells: but their Noses did still gangrene, being bobb’d against the barrell, and until someone thought of carrying the spawn, rather than the fish themselves, people in the outlying parts of the country had to content themselves with whatever nature provided, for there were no fishmongers inland and so, by reason of the fasting dayes, all gentlemen’s howses had anciently Fishponds, and fish in the motes about the howse.

  Within living memory, even, vast changes had taken place in the nation’s diet. Carrets, says Aubrey, were first sown at Beckington in Somersetshire. Some very old Man there (in 1668) did remember their first bringing thither, and not only did Mr. Alexander James, Alderman of Bristoll, tell him that when he was a Boy, all the Turnips, that they had there, did come from Wales, but the Mother of Mr. John Ashe remembred when all the Cabbages were brought from Holland. She was eighty yeares old, and upwards when she died.

  Agriculture, too, was improving, and Aubrey notes: Limeing of ground began about 1590 or some time after the use of Tobacco, by Sir Walter Raleigh, and it was Sir Richard Weston who brought the first Clovergrass, about 1645, out of Brabant or Flandrs; at which time he also brought over the Contrivance of Locks, Turnpikes, and tumbling Boyes for Rivers, while Sir Isaac Wake was the first that planted Vines and Firres in England.

  Even tabby cats were once newfangled novelties. W. Laud, A. B. Cant, was a great lover of Catts, Aubrey reports, He was presented with some Cyprus-catts, i.e. our Tabby-catts, which were sold, at first for 5 pounds a pie
ce: this was about 1637, or 1638. The fashion thus started resulted in a change which Aubrey strongly resented. I doe well remember, he says crossly, that the common English Catt, was white with some blewish piednesse: sc. a gallipot blew. The race or breed of them are now almost lost. But another change in the animal population of England at this time would probably not have aroused his anger had he noticed it and recognised its implications, for during Aubrey’s lifetime the modern brown rat wiped out and replaced the mediæval black rat, and it was this mediæval rat which had been the carrier of the plagueflea.

  Strange flowers, too, were reaching English shores. Jessamines came into England with Mary, the Queen-Mother, he says, and Laurell was first brought over by Alethea, Countesse of Arundell, grandmother to this Duke of Norfolke. For the Pleasure and Use of Gardens were unknown to our great Grandfathers: they were contented with Pot-herbs: and did mind chiefly their Stables. But in the time of King Charles IId Gardening was much improved, and became common; so common in fact that Aubrey could write in 1691, especially since about 1683, there have been exotick Plants brought into England, no lesse than seven thousand.