by John Aubrey
1660. The winter-time of 1659 he spent in Derbyshire. In March following was the dawning of the coming in of our gracious Soveraigne, and in April the Aurora. I then sent a letter to him in the Countrey to advertise him of the Advent of his Master the King and desired him by all meanes to be in London before his Arrivall; and knowing his Majestie was a great lover of good Painting I must needs presume he could not but suddenly see Mr. Cowper’s curious pieces, of whose fame he had so much heard abroad and seene some of his worke, and likewise that he would sitt to him for his Picture, at which place and time he would have the best convenience of renewing his Majestie’s graces to him. He returned me thankes for my friendly intimation and came to London in May following.
It happened, about two or three dayes after his Majestie’s happy returne, that, as He was passing in his coach through the Strand, Mr. Hobbes was standing at Little Salisbury-house gate (where his Lord then lived). The King espied him, putt of his hatt very kindly to him, and asked him how he did. About a weeke after, he had orall conference with his Majesty at Mr. S. Cowper’s, where, as he sate for his picture, he was diverted by Mr. Hobbes pleasant discourse. Here his Majestie’s favours were redintegrated to him, and order was given that he should have free accesse to his Majesty, who was always much delighted in his witt and smart repartees.
The witts at Court were wont to bayte him. But he feared none of them, and would make his part good. The King would call him the Beare: Here comes the Beare to be bayted: (this is too low witt to be published).
He was marvellous happy and ready in his replies, and that without rancor (except provoked) but now I speake of his readinesse in replies as to witt and drollery. He would say that he did not care to give, neither was he adroit at, a present answer to a serious quaere: he had as lieve they should have expected an extemporary solution to an Arithmeticall probleme, for he turned and winded and compounded in philosophy, politiques, etc., as if he had been at Analyticall worke. He alwayes avoided, as much as he could, to conclude hastily.
1665. This yeare he told me that he was willing to doe some good to the Towne where he was borne; that his Majestie loved him well, and if I could find out something in our Countrey that was in His Guift, he did beleeve he could beg it of his Majestie, and seeing he was bred a Scholar, he thought it most proper to endowe a Free-schoole there; which is wanting now (for, before the Reformation, all Monasteries had great Schooles appendant to them; e.g. Magdalen schoole and New College schoole). After enquiry I found out a piece of land in Bradon-forest (of about 25 pounds per annum value) that was in his Majesties guift, which he designed to have obtained of his Majestie for a salary for a Schoolmaster; but the Queen’s Priests smelling-out the Designe and being his Enemies, hindred this publique and charitable Intention.
Mr. Samuel Cowper (the Prince of Limners of this last Age and my ever honoured Friend, who besides his Art was an ingeniose person and of great humanity) drew his Picture as like as art could afford, and one of the best pieces that ever he did: which his Majesty, at his returne, bought of him, and conserves as one of his rarities in his Closet at Whitehall.
His Lord who was a waster, sent him up and downe to borrow money, and to gett Gentlemen to be bound for him, being ashamed to speake him selfe.
In his youth he was unhealthy; of an ill complexion (yellowish): he tooke colds, being wett in his feet (there were no hackney coaches to stand in the streetes) and trod both his Shoes aside the same way. Notwithstanding he was well beloved: they lov’d his company for his pleasant facetiousness and good-nature.
From forty, or better, he grew healthier, and then he had a fresh, ruddy, complexion. He was Sanguineo-melancholicus; which the physiologers say is the most ingeniose complexion. He would say that there might be good witts of all compexions; but good-natured, impossible.
In his old age he was very bald (which claymed a veneration) yet within dore, he used to study, and sitt bare-headed, and sayd he never tooke cold in his head, but that the greatest trouble was to keepe-off the Flies from pitching on the baldnes.
Face not very great; ample forehead; whiskers yellowish-redish, which naturally turned up—which is a signe of a brisque witt. Belowe he was shaved close, except a little tip under his lip. Not but that nature could have afforded a venerable Beard, but being naturally of a cheerfull and pleasant humour, he affected not at all austerity and gravity to looke severe. He desired not the reputation of his wisdome to be taken from the cutt of his beard, but from his reason.
He had a good eie, and that of a hazell colour, which was full of Life and Spirit, even to the last. When he was earnest in discourse, there shone (as it were) a bright live-coale within it. He had two kinds of lookys: when he laugh’t, was witty, and in a merry humour, one could scarce see his Eies; by and by, when he was serious and positive, he open’d his eies round (i.e. his eie-lids.) He had midling eies, not very big, nor very little.
There was a good Painter at the Earl of Devonshire’s in Derbyshire not long before Mr. Hobbes dyed, who drew him with the great decayes of old age.
Though he left his native countrey at 14, and lived so long, yet sometimes one might find a little touch of our pronunciation.—Old Sir Thomas Malette, one of the Judges of the King’s Bench, knew Sir Walter Ralegh, and sayd that, notwithstanding his great Travells, Conversation, Learning, etc., yet he spake broade Devonshire to his dyeing day.
He had very few Bookes. I never sawe (nor Sir William Petty) above halfe a dozen about him in his chamber. Homer and Virgil were commonly on his Table; sometimes Xenophon, or some probable historie, and Greek Testament, or so.
He had read much, if one considers his long life; but his contemplation was much more then his reading. He was wont to say that if he had read as much as other men, he should have knowne no more then other men.
He was wont to say that he had rather have the advice, or take Physique from an experienced old Woman, that had been at many sick people’s Bed-sides, then from the learnedst but unexperienced Physitian.
’Tis not consistent with an harmonicall soule to be a womanhater, neither had he an Abhorrescence to good wine but he was, even in his youth (generally) temperate, both as to wine and women. I have heard him say that he did beleeve he had been in excesse in his life, a hundred times; which, considering his great age, did not amount to above once a yeare. When he did drinke, he would drinke to excesse to have the benefitt of Vomiting, which he did easily; by which benefit neither his witt was disturbt longer then he was spuing nor his stomach oppressed; but he never was, nor could not endure to be, habitually a good fellow, i.e. to drinke every day wine with company, which, though not to drunkennesse, spoiles the Braine.
For his last 30+ yeares, his Dyet, etc., was very moderate and regular. He rose about seaven, had his breakefast of Bread and Butter; and tooke his walke, meditating till ten; then he did putt downe the minutes of his thoughts, which he penned in the afternoon. He thought much and with excellent method and stedinesse, which made him seldom make a False step.
He had an inch thick board about 16 inches square, whereon paper was pasted. On this board he drew his lines (schemes). When a line came into his head, he would, as he was walking, take a rude Memorandum of it, to preserve it in his memory till he came to his chamber. He was never idle; his thoughts were always working.
His dinner was provided for him exactly by eleaven, for he could not now stay till his Lord’s howre—scil. about two: that his stomach could not beare.
After dinner he tooke a pipe of tobacco, and then threw himselfe immediately on his bed, with his band off, and slept (tooke a nap of about halfe an howre).
In the afternoon he penned his morning Thoughts.
Besides his dayly Walking, he did twice or thrice a yeare play at Tennis (at about 75 he did it) then went to bed there and was well rubbed. This he did believe would make him live two or three yeares the longer.
In the countrey, for want of a tennis-court, he would walke up-hill and downe-hill in the parke, till he w
as in a great sweat, and then give the servant some money to rubbe him.
He had alwayes bookes of prick-song lyeing on his table: which at night, when he was abed, and the dores made fast, and was sure nobody heard him, he sang aloud (not that he had a very good voice) but for his health’s Sake: he did beleeve it did his Lunges good, and conduced much to prolong his life.
He had the shaking Palsey in his handes; which began in France before the year 1650, and haz growne upon him by degrees, ever since, so that he haz not been able to write very legibly since 1665 or 1666, as I find by some letters he hath honoured me withall. Mr. Hobbs wase for severall yeares before he died so Paralyticall that he wase scarce able to write his name, and that in the abscence of his Amanuensis not being able to write anything, he made Scrawls on a piece of paper to remind him of the conceptions of his Mind he design’d to have committed to writing.
His extraordinary Timorousnes Mr. Hobs doth very ingeniosely confess and atributes it to the influence of his Mother’s Dread of the Spanish Invasion in 88, she being then with child of him: it is very prodigious that neither the timorousness of his Nature from his Infancy, nor the decay of his Vital Heat in the extremity of old age, accompanied with the Palsy to that violence, shou’d not have chilled the briske Fervour and Vigour of his mind, which did wonderfully continue to him to his last.
His work was attended with Envy, which threw severall aspersions and false reports on him. For instance, one (common) was that he was afrayd to lye alone at night in his Chamber; I have often heard him say that he was not afrayd of Sprights, but afrayd of being knockt on the head for five or ten pounds, which rogues might think he had in his chamber; and severall other tales, as untrue.
When Mr. T. Hobbes was sick in France, the Divines came to him, and tormented him (both Roman Catholic, Church of England, and Geneva). Sayd he to them, Let me alone, or els I will detect all your Cheates from Aaron to yourselves.
Mr. Edmund Waller sayd to me, when I desired him to write some Verses in praise of him, that he was afrayd of the Churchmen: that, what was chiefly to be taken notice of in his Elogie was that he, being but one, and a private Person, pulled downe all their Churches, dispelled the mists of Ignorance, and layd-open their Priest-craft.
There was a report (and surely true) that in Parliament, not long after the King was setled, some of the Bishops made a Motion to have the good old Gentleman burn’t for a Heretique. Which, he hearing, feared that his papers might be search’t by their order, and he told me he had burnt part of them; among other things, a Poeme, in Latin Hexameter and Pentameter, of the Encroachment of the Clergie (both Roman and Reformed) on the Civil Power.
That he was a Christian ’tis cleare, for he recieved the Sacrament of Dr. Pierson, and in his confession to Dr. John Cosins, on his (as he thought) death-bed, declared that he liked the Religion of the Church of England best of all other.
He dyed worth neer 1000 pounds, which (considering his charity) was more than I expected: for he was very charitable to those that were the true objects of his Bounty. One time, I remember, goeing in the Strand, a poore and infirme old man craved his Aimes. He, beholding him with eies of pitty and compassion, putt his hand in his pocket and gave him 6d. Sayd a Divine that stood by, Would you have donne this, if it had not been Christ’s command? Yea, sayd he. Why? quoth the other. Because, sayd he, I was in paine to consider the miserable condition of the old man; and now my almes, giving him some reliefe, doth also ease me.
Thomas Hobbs said that if it were not for the gallowes, some men are of so cruell a nature as to take a delight in killing men more than I should to kill a bird. I have heard him inveigh much against the Crueltie of Moyses for putting so many thousands to the Sword for Bowing to the Golden Calf.
Mr. Benjamin Johnson, Poet-Laureat, was his loving and familiar Friend and Acquaintance.
His nephew Francis pretty well resembled his uncle Thomas, especially about the eie; and probably had he had good Education might have been ingeniose; but he drowned his Witt in Ale.
When he was at Florence, he contracted a friendship with the famous Galileo Galileo, whom he extremely venerated and magnified; and not only as he was a prodigious Witt, but for his sweetnes of nature and manners. They pretty well resembled one another as to their countenances, as by their Pictures doeth appear; were both cheerfull and melancholique-sanguine; and had both a consimilitie of Fate, to be hated and persecuted by the Ecclesiastiques.
Mr. Robert Hooke loved him, but was never but once in his company.
William Harvey, Dr. Of Physique and Chirurgery, Inventor of the Circulation of the Bloud, left him in his Will ten poundes, as a token of his love.
Mr. John Dreyden, Poet Laureat, is his great admirer, and oftentimes makes use of his Doctrine in his Playes—from Mr. Dreyden himselfe.
Sir Jonas Moore, Mathematicus, Surveyor of his Majestie’s Ordinance, who had a great veneration for Mr. Hobbes, and was wont much to lament he fell to the study of the Mathematiques so late.
Lucius Carey, Lord Falkland was His great friend and admirer, and so was Sir William Petty; both which I have here enrolled amongst those friends I have heard him speake of, but Dr. Blackburne left ’em both out (to my admiration). I askt him why he had donne so? He answered because they were both ignote to Foreigners.
Des Cartes and he were acquainted and mutually respected one another. He would say that had he kept himself to Geometry he had been the best Geometer in the world but that his head did not lye for Philosophy.
I have heard him say that Aristotle was the worst Teacher that ever was, the worst Politician and Ethick—a Countrey-fellow that could live in the World would be as good: but his Rhetorique and Discourse of Animals was rare.
He had a high esteeme for the Royall Societie, having sayd that Naturall Philosophy was removed from the Universities to Gresham Colledge, meaning the Royall Societie that meetes there; and the Royall Societie (generally) had the like for him: and he would long since have been ascribed a Member there, but for the sake of one or two persons, whom he tooke to be his enemies: viz. Dr. Wallis (surely their Mercuries are in opposition) and Mr. Boyle. I might add Sir Paul Neile, who disobliges everybody.
1675, he left London cum animo nunquam revertendi [with the intention of never returning] and spent the remaynder of his dayes in Derbyshire with the Earl of Devonshire at Chatsworth and Hardwyck, in Contemplation and study.
These love verses he made not long before his death:—
Tho’ I am now past ninety, and too old
T’ expect preferment in the Court of Cupid,
And many Winters made mee ev’n so cold
I am become almost all over stupid,
Yet I can love and have a Mistresse too,
As fair as can be and as wise as fair;
And yet not proud, nor anything will doe
To make me of her favour to despair.
To tell you who she is were very bold;
But if i’ th’ Character your Selfe you find
Thinke not the man a Fool tho he be old
Who loves in Body fair, a fairer mind.
He fell sick about the middle of October 1679. His disease was the Strangury, and the Physitians judged it incurable by reason of his great age and naturall decay. About the 20th of November, my Lord being to remove from Chatsworth to Hardwick, Mr. Hobbes would not be left behind; and therefore with a fetherbed laid into the Coach, upon which he lay warme clad, he was conveyed safely, and was in appearance as well after that little journey as before it. But seven or eight days after, his whole right side was taken with the dead palsy, and at the same time he was made speechlesse. He lived after this seven days, taking very little nourishment, slept well, and by intervals endeavoured to speake, but could not. In the whole time of his sickness he was free from fever. He seemed therefor to dye rather for want of the Fuell of Life (which was spent in him) and meer weaknesse and decay, then by the power of his disease, which was thought to be onely an effect of his age and weaknesse
. He was put into a Woollen Shroud and Coffin, which was covered with a white Sheet, and upon that a black Herse cloth, and so carryed upon men’s shoulders, a little mile to Church. The company, consisting of the family and neighbours that came to his Funerall, and attended him to his grave, were very handsomely entertained with Wine, burned and raw, cake, biscuit, etc.
A true copy of Mr. Hobbes’s will.
Item, whereas it hath pleased my good Lord the Earle of Devonshire, to bid me oftentimes heretofore, and now at the making of this my last Will, to dispose therein of one hundred pounds, to be paid by his Lordship, for which I give him most humble thanks; I doe give and dispose of the same in this manner: There be five grand-children of my Brother Edmund Hobbes, to the eldest whereof whose name is Thomas Hobbes, I have heretofore given a peece of Land, which may and doth I think content him, and therefore to the other four that are younger, I dispose of the same 100 pounds the gift of my Lord of Devonshire, to be divided equally amongst them, as a furtherance to bind them Apprentices.
My Lord of Devonshire has paid the hundred pounds to Mr. Hobbes’s kinred, which he bid Mr. Hobbes dispose of in his Will.
WILLIAM HOLDER
* * *
[Born 1616. Divine. Fellow of the Royal Society 1663. Canon of St. Paul’s 1672. Sub-Dean of the Chapel Royal (1674) where he became so famous a disciplinarian that he was known as Mr. Snub-Dean. He published Elements of Speech in 1669 and various treatises on harmony and the Julian Calendar. Died 1698.]
HE IS A handsome, gracefull person, and of a delicate constitution, and of an even and smooth temper; so that, if one would goe about to describe a perfect good man, would drawe this Doctor’s Character. He is very Musicall, both theoretically and practically, and he had a sweet voyce: gracefull Elocution; his discourse so Gent. and obligeing; cleer reason; is a good Poet. He is extremely well qualified for his place of the Sub-Almoner of the King’s Chapell, being a person abhorring covetousnes, and full of Pitty.