Part 2 (1/2)

I ought not to omit that while I had any sight left, as soon as I lay down on my bed and turned on either side, a flood of light used to gush from my closed eyelids. Then, as my sight became daily more impaired, the colours became more faint and were emitted with a certain inward crackling sound; but at present, every species of illumination being, as it were, extinguished, there is diffused around me nothing but darkness, or darkness mingled and streaked with an ashy brown. Yet the darkness in which I am perpetually immersed seems always, both by night and day, to approach nearer to white than black; and when the eye is rolling in its socket, it admits a little particle of light, as through a c.h.i.n.k. And though your physician may kindle a small ray of hope, yet I make up my mind to the malady as quite incurable; and I often reflect, that as the wise man admonishes, days of darkness are destined to each of us, the darkness which I experience, less oppressive than that of the tomb, is, owing to the singular goodness of the Deity, pa.s.sed amid the pursuits of literature and the cheering salutations of friends.h.i.+p. But if, as is written, 'Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth from the mouth of G.o.d,' why may not any one acquiesce in the privation of his sight, when G.o.d has so amply furnished his mind and his conscience with eyes? While He so tenderly provides for me, while He so graciously leads me by the hand, and conducts me on the way, I will, since it is His pleasure, rather rejoice than repine at being blind. And, my dear Philaras, whatever may be the event, I wish you adieu with no less courage and composure than if I had the eyes of a lynx.

[Footnote 1: From the Latin.]

JOHN EVELYN

1620-1706

To SAMUEL PEPYS

_In retirement at Wotton_

Wotton, 2 _Aug_. 1692.

I have been philosophizing and world-despising in the solitudes of this place, whither I am retired to pa.s.s and mourn the absence of my worthiest friend. Here is wood and water, meadows and mountains, the Dryads and Hamadryads; but here's no Mr. Pepys, no Dr. Gale. Nothing of all the cheer in the parlour that I taste; all's insipid, and all will be so to me, till I see and enjoy you again. I long to know what you do, and what you think, because I am certain you do both what is worthy the knowing and imitation. On Monday next will Mr. Bentley resume his lecture, I think, at Bow Church: I fear I shall hardly get through this wilderness by that time. Pray give him your wonted confidence if you can, and tell him how unhappily I am entangled. I hope, however, to get home within this fortnight, and about the end of October to my hyemation in Dover Street. My son is gone with the Lord Lieutenant, and our new relation, Sir Cyril Wych, into Ireland: I look they should return wondrous statesmen, or else they had as well have stayed at home. I am here with Boccalini, and Erasmus's _Praise of Folly_, and look down upon the world with wondrous contempt, when I consider for what we keep such a mighty bustle. _O fortunate_ Mr.

Pepys! who knows, possesses, and enjoys all that's worth the seeking after. Let me live among your inclinations, and I shall be happy.

To THE SAME

_An old man's occupations_

Wotton, 22 _July_, 1700.

I could no longer suffer this old servant of mine to pa.s.s and repa.s.s so near Clapham without a particular account of your health and all your happy family. You will now inquire what I do here? Why, as the patriarchs of old, I pa.s.s the days in the fields, among horses and oxen, sheep, cows, bulls, and sows, _et cetera pecora campi_. We have, thank G.o.d! finished our hay harvest prosperously. I am looking after my hinds, providing carriage and tackle against reaping time and sowing. What shall I say more? _Venio ad voluptates agricolarum_, which Cicero, you know, reckons amongst the most becoming diversions of old age; and so I render it. This without: now within doors, never was any matron more busy than my wife, disposing of our plain country furniture for a naked old extravagant house, suitable to our employments. She has a dairy, and distaffs, for _lac, linum, et lanam_, and is become a very Sabine. But can you thus hold out? Will my friend say; is philosophy, Gresham College, and the example of Mr.

Pepys, and agreeable conversation of York Buildings, quite forgotten and abandoned? No, no! _Naturam expellas furca tamen usque recurret_.

Know I have been ranging of no fewer than thirty large cases of books, destined for a competent standing library, during four or five days wholly dest.i.tute of my young coadjutor, who, upon some pretence of being much engaged in the mathematics, and desiring he may continue his course at Oxford till the beginning of August, I have wholly left it to him. You will now suspect something by this disordered hand; truly I was too happy in these little domestic affairs, when, on the sudden, as I was about my books in the library, I found myself sorely attacked with a s.h.i.+vering, followed by a feverish indisposition, and a strangury, so as to have kept, not my chamber only, but my bed, till very lately, and with just so much strength as to scribble these lines to you. For the rest, I give G.o.d thanks for this gracious warning, my great age calling upon me _sarcinam componere_ every day expecting it, who have still enjoyed a wonderful course of bodily health for forty years....

DAME DOROTHY BROWNE

1621-1685

TO HER DAUGHTER IN LONDON

_Three interesting postscripts_

[Norfolk, 28 _June, c_. 1679.]