The married man is like the bee that fixes his hive, augments the world, benefits the republic, and by a daily diligence, without wronging any, profits all; but he who contemns wedlock, like a wasp, wanders an offence to the world, lives upon spoil and rapine, disturbs peace, steals sweets that are none of his own, and, by robbing the hives of others, meets misery as his due reward.--_Feltham._
War has its sweets, Hymen its alarms.
As aromatic plants bestow No spicy fragrance while they grow; But crush'd or trodden to the ground, Diffuse their balmy sweets around.
But just because somebody has lots of sweets does not mean that he has stolen them. One thing, you see, does not always lead to another.
The setting sun, and music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in remembrance more than things long past.
The volume herewith presented is the natural result of the compiler's habit of transferring and classifying significant passages from known authors. No special course of reading has been pursued, the thoughts being culled from foreign and native tongues--from the moss-grown tomes of ancient literature and the verdant fields of to-day. The terse periods of others, appropriately quoted, become in a degree our own; and a just estimation is very nearly allied to originality, or, as the author of _Vanity Fair_ tells us, "Next to excellence is the appreciation of it." Without indorsing the idea of a modern authority that the multiplicity of facts and writings is becoming so great that every available book must soon be composed of extracts only, still it is believed that such a volume as "Pearls of Thought" will serve the interest of general literature, and especially stimulate the mind of the thoughtful reader to further research. The pleasant duty of the compiler has been to follow the expressive idea of Colton, and he has made the same use of books as a bee does of flowers,--she steals the sweets from them, but does not injure them.
Let beeves and home-bred kine partake The sweets of Burn-mill meadow; The swan on still St. Mary's Lake Float double, swan and shadow!
I don't know what you think about anniversaries. I like them, being always minded to drink my cup of life to the bottom, and take my chance of the sweets and bitters.
On the 23d of April, 1490, I began this book; and started again on the horse. Giacomo came to live with me on Saint Mary Magdalen's day in 1490; {49} he was ten years old. He was a thief, a liar, obstinate, and a glutton. On the second day I had two shirts made for him, a pair of socks and a jerkin, and when I placed the money aside to pay for these things, he stole it out of the purse and I could never force him to confess the fact, though I was quite certain of it--4 lire. On the following day I went to sup with Giacomo Andrea, and this same Giacomo supped for two and did mischief for four, since he broke three bottles, spilled the wine, and after this came to sup where I... Item: on the 7th of September he stole a silver point, worth twelve soldi, from Marco, who was living with me, and took it from his studio; and when Marco had looked for it for some time he found it hidden in Giacomo's box--lire 1, soldi 2. Item: on the 26th of the following January, being in the house of Messer Galeazzo di San Severino, in order to arrange the festivity of his joust, and certain henchmen having undressed to try on the costumes of rustics who were to take part in the aforesaid festivity, Giacomo took the purse of one of them, which was on the bed with other clothes, and stole the money he found in it--2 lire, 4 soldi. Item: Maestro Agostino of Padua gave me while I was in the same house a Turkish hide to have a pair of shoes made of it, and Giacomo stole this from me within a month and sold it to a cobbler for 20 soldi, with which money by his own confession he bought sweets of aniseed. Item: {50} again, on the 2d of April, Giovanni Antonio left a silver point on one of his drawings, and Giacomo stole it; it was worth 24 soldi,--1 lire, 4 soldi. The first year a cloak, 2 lire; six shirts, 4 lire; three doublets, 6 lire: four pairs of socks, 7 lire, 8 soldi.
Stolen sweets are best.
A wilderness of sweets.
The sweets of love are washed with tears.
At the close of the day when the hamlet is still, And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove, When naught but the torrent is heard on the hill, And naught but the nightingale's song in the grove.
How charming is divine philosophy! Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, But musical as is Apollo's lute, And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets Where no crude surfeit reigns.
We gild our medicines with sweets; why not clothe truth and morals in pleasant garments as well?
The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets.
Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie.
While the service was proceeding in the Cathedral of the Assumption--it was a combined service of prayer on the occasion of the Emperor's arrival and of thanksgiving for the conclusion of peace with the Turks-- the crowd outside spread out and hawkers appeared, selling kvas, gingerbread, and poppyseed sweets (of which Petya was particularly fond), and ordinary conversation could again be heard. A tradesman's wife was showing a rent in her shawl and telling how much the shawl had cost; another was saying that all silk goods had now got dear. The clerk who had rescued Petya was talking to a functionary about the priests who were officiating that day with the bishop. The clerk several times used the word "plenary" (of the service), a word Petya did not understand. Two young citizens were joking with some serf girls who were cracking nuts. All these conversations, especially the joking with the girls, were such as might have had a particular charm for Petya at his age, but they did not interest him now. He sat on his elevation--the pedestal of the cannon--still agitated as before by the thought of the Emperor and by his love for him. The feeling of pain and fear he had experienced when he was being crushed, together with that of rapture, still further intensified his sense of the importance of the occasion.
At length, with conjugal endearment both Satiate, Ulysses tasted and his spouse The sweets of mutual converse. She rehearsed, Noblest of women, all her num'rous woes Beneath that roof sustain'd, while she beheld The profligacy of the suitor-throng, Who in their wooing had consumed his herds And fatted flocks, and drawn his vessels dry; While brave Ulysses, in his turn, to her Related his successes and escapes, And his afflictions also; he told her all; She listen'd charm'd, nor slumber on his eyes Fell once, or ere he had rehearsed the whole. Beginning, he discoursed, how, at the first He conquer'd in Ciconia, and thence reach'd The fruitful shores of the Lotophagi; The Cyclops' deeds he told her next, and how He well avenged on him his slaughter'd friends Whom, pitiless, the monster had devour'd. How to the isle of Æolus he came, Who welcom'd him and safe dismiss'd him thence, Although not destin'd to regain so soon His native land; for o'er the fishy deep Loud tempests snatch'd him sighing back again. How, also at Telepylus he arrived, Town of the Læstrygonians, who destroyed His ships with all their mariners, his own Except, who in his sable bark escaped. Of guileful Circe too he spake, deep-skill'd In various artifice, and how he reach'd With sails and oars the squalid realms of death, Desirous to consult the prophet there Theban Tiresias, and how there he view'd All his companions, and the mother bland Who bare him, nourisher of his infant years. How, next he heard the Sirens in one strain All chiming sweet, and how he reach'd the rocks Erratic, Scylla and Charybdis dire, Which none secure from injury may pass. Then, how the partners of his voyage slew The Sun's own beeves, and how the Thund'rer Jove Hurl'd down his smoky bolts into his bark, Depriving him at once of all his crew, Whose dreadful fate he yet, himself, escaped. How to Ogygia's isle he came, where dwelt The nymph Calypso, who, enamour'd, wish'd To espouse him, and within her spacious grot Detain'd, and fed, and promis'd him a life Exempt for ever from the sap of age, But him moved not. How, also, he arrived After much toil, on the Phæacian coast, Where ev'ry heart revered him as a God, And whence, enriching him with brass and gold, And costly raiment first, they sent him home. At this last word, oblivious slumber sweet Fell on him, dissipating all his cares.
The officious shopmen began explaining with oily politeness that the first box contained only half a dozen bottles of champagne, and only "the most indispensable articles," such as savories, sweets, toffee, etc. But the main part of the goods ordered would be packed and sent off, as on the previous occasion, in a special cart also with three horses traveling at full speed, so that it would arrive not more than an hour later than Dmitri Fyodorovitch himself.
"Mamma! What sweets are we going to have?" and Natasha's voice sounded still more firm and resolute.
But Juno of the golden throne stood forth On the Olympian summit, viewing thence The field, where clear distinguishing the God Of ocean, her own brother, sole engaged Amid the glorious battle, glad was she. Seeing Jove also on the topmost point Of spring-fed Ida seated, she conceived Hatred against him, and thenceforth began Deliberate how best she might deceive The Thunderer, and thus at last resolved; Attired with skill celestial to descend On Ida, with a hope to allure him first Won by her beauty to a fond embrace, Then closing fast in balmy sleep profound His eyes, to elude his vigilance, secure. She sought her chamber; Vulcan her own son That chamber built. He framed the solid doors, And to the posts fast closed them with a key Mysterious, which, herself except, in heaven None understood. Entering she secured The splendid portal. First, she laved all o'er Her beauteous body with ambrosial lymph, Then polish'd it with richest oil divine Of boundless fragrance; oil that in the courts Eternal only shaken, through the skies Breathed odors, and through all the distant earth. Her whole fair body with those sweets bedew'd, She passed the comb through her ambrosial hair, And braided her bright locks streaming profuse From her immortal brows; with golden studs She made her gorgeous mantle fast before, Ethereal texture, labor of the hands Of Pallas beautified with various art, And braced it with a zone fringed all around A hundred fold; her pendants triple-gemm'd Luminous, graceful, in her ears she hung, And covering all her glories with a veil Sun-bright, new-woven, bound to her fair feet Her sandals elegant. Thus full attired, In all her ornaments, she issued forth, And beckoning Venus from the other powers Of heaven apart, the Goddess thus bespake.
Natasha ate of everything and thought she had never seen or eaten such buttermilk cakes, such aromatic jam, such honey-and-nut sweets, or such a chicken anywhere. Anisya Fedorovna left the room.
"Thanks. You're tired perhaps? What are you looking for here? Would you like some sweets? A cigar, perhaps?"
"I sent your brother, Dmitri Fyodorovitch, some sweets in prison. Alyosha, you know, you are quite pretty! I shall love you awfully for having so quickly allowed me not to love you."
Mitya was naughty at table. Papa said he was to have no pudding. He had none, but looked so unhappily and greedily at the others while they were eating! I think that punishment by depriving children of sweets only develops their greediness. Must tell Nicholas this.
Brothers, have no fear of men's sin. Love a man even in his sin, for that is the semblance of Divine Love and is the highest love on earth. Love all God's creation, the whole and every grain of sand in it. Love every leaf, every ray of God's light. Love the animals, love the plants, love everything. If you love everything, you will perceive the divine mystery in things. Once you perceive it, you will begin to comprehend it better every day. And you will come at last to love the whole world with an all- embracing love. Love the animals: God has given them the rudiments of thought and joy untroubled. Do not trouble it, don't harass them, don't deprive them of their happiness, don't work against God's intent. Man, do not pride yourself on superiority to the animals; they are without sin, and you, with your greatness, defile the earth by your appearance on it, and leave the traces of your foulness after you--alas, it is true of almost every one of us! Love children especially, for they too are sinless like the angels; they live to soften and purify our hearts and as it were to guide us. Woe to him who offends a child! Father Anfim taught me to love children. The kind, silent man used often on our wanderings to spend the farthings given us on sweets and cakes for the children. He could not pass by a child without emotion. That's the nature of the man.
So saying, he sprang on him, and his long crest Seized fast; then, turning, drew him by that hold Toward the Grecian host. The broider'd band That underbraced his helmet at the chin, Strain'd to his smooth neck with a ceaseless force, Chok'd him; and now had Menelaus won Deathless renown, dragging him off the field, But Venus, foam-sprung Goddess, feeling quick His peril imminent, snapp'd short the brace Though stubborn, by a slaughter'd ox supplied, And the void helmet follow'd as he pull'd. That prize the Hero, whirling it aloft, Threw to his Greeks, who caught it and secured, Then with vindictive strides he rush'd again On Paris, spear in hand; but him involved In mist opaque Venus with ease divine Snatch'd thence, and in his chamber placed him, fill'd With scents odorous, spirit-soothing sweets. Nor stay'd the Goddess, but at once in quest Of Helen went; her on a lofty tower She found, where many a damsel stood of Troy, And twitch'd her fragrant robe. In form she seem'd An ancient matron, who, while Helen dwelt In Lacedæmon, her unsullied wool Dress'd for her, faithfullest of all her train. Like her disguised the Goddess thus began.
"Mamma! What sweets are we going to have?" Natasha again cried boldly, with saucy gaiety, confident that her prank would be taken in good part.
"Marie lay in a state of uncomfortable delirium the whole while; she coughed dreadfully. The old women would not let the children stay in the room; but they all collected outside the window each morning, if only for a moment, and shouted '_Bon jour, notre bonne Marie!_' and Marie no sooner caught sight of, or heard them, and she became quite animated at once, and, in spite of the old women, would try to sit up and nod her head and smile at them, and thank them. The little ones used to bring her nice things and sweets to eat, but she could hardly touch anything. Thanks to them, I assure you, the girl died almost perfectly happy. She almost forgot her misery, and seemed to accept their love as a sort of symbol of pardon for her offence, though she never ceased to consider herself a dreadful sinner. They used to flutter at her window just like little birds, calling out: '_Nous t'aimons, Marie!_'
"That's what your monk taught you. That's not true. Let me be rich and all the rest poor, I'll eat sweets and drink cream and not give any to any one else. Ach, don't speak, don't say anything," she shook her hand at him, though Alyosha had not opened his mouth. "You've told me all that before, I know it all by heart. It bores me. If I am ever poor, I shall murder somebody, and even if I am rich, I may murder some one, perhaps--why do nothing! But do you know, I should like to reap, cut the rye? I'll marry you, and you shall become a peasant, a real peasant; we'll keep a colt, shall we? Do you know Kalganov?"
They were awaiting Mitya with impatience in the shop. They had vivid recollections of how he had bought, three or four weeks ago, wine and goods of all sorts to the value of several hundred roubles, paid for in cash (they would never have let him have anything on credit, of course). They remembered that then, as now, he had had a bundle of hundred-rouble notes in his hand, and had scattered them at random, without bargaining, without reflecting, or caring to reflect what use so much wine and provisions would be to him. The story was told all over the town that, driving off then with Grushenka to Mokroe, he had "spent three thousand in one night and the following day, and had come back from the spree without a penny." He had picked up a whole troop of gypsies (encamped in our neighborhood at the time), who for two days got money without stint out of him while he was drunk, and drank expensive wine without stint. People used to tell, laughing at Mitya, how he had given champagne to grimy- handed peasants, and feasted the village women and girls on sweets and Strasburg pies. Though to laugh at Mitya to his face was rather a risky proceeding, there was much laughter behind his back, especially in the tavern, at his own ingenuous public avowal that all he had got out of Grushenka by this "escapade" was "permission to kiss her foot, and that was the utmost she had allowed him."
The landlord brought in a new, unopened pack, and informed Mitya that the girls were getting ready, and that the Jews with the cymbals would most likely be here soon; but the cart with the provisions had not yet arrived. Mitya jumped up from the table and ran into the next room to give orders, but only three girls had arrived, and Marya was not there yet. And he did not know himself what orders to give and why he had run out. He only told them to take out of the box the presents for the girls, the sweets, the toffee and the fondants. "And vodka for Andrey, vodka for Andrey!" he cried in haste. "I was rude to Andrey!"
An absurd chaotic confusion followed, but Mitya was in his natural element, and the more foolish it became, the more his spirits rose. If the peasants had asked him for money at that moment, he would have pulled out his notes and given them away right and left. This was probably why the landlord, Trifon Borissovitch, kept hovering about Mitya to protect him. He seemed to have given up all idea of going to bed that night; but he drank little, only one glass of punch, and kept a sharp look-out on Mitya's interests after his own fashion. He intervened in the nick of time, civilly and obsequiously persuading Mitya not to give away "cigars and Rhine wine," and, above all, money to the peasants as he had done before. He was very indignant, too, at the peasant girls drinking liqueur, and eating sweets.
Soon after "Uncle's" reappearance the door was opened, evidently from the sound by a barefooted girl, and a stout, rosy, good-looking woman of about forty, with a double chin and full red lips, entered carrying a large loaded tray. With hospitable dignity and cordiality in her glance and in every motion, she looked at the visitors and, with a pleasant smile, bowed respectfully. In spite of her exceptional stoutness, which caused her to protrude her chest and stomach and throw back her head, this woman (who was "Uncle's" housekeeper) trod very lightly. She went to the table, set down the tray, and with her plump white hands deftly took from it the bottles and various hors d'oeuvres and dishes and arranged them on the table. When she had finished, she stepped aside and stopped at the door with a smile on her face. "Here I am. I am she! Now do you understand 'Uncle'?" her expression said to Rostov. How could one help understanding? Not only Nicholas, but even Natasha understood the meaning of his puckered brow and the happy complacent smile that slightly puckered his lips when Anisya Fedorovna entered. On the tray was a bottle of herb wine, different kinds of vodka, pickled mushrooms, rye cakes made with buttermilk, honey in the comb, still mead and sparkling mead, apples, nuts (raw and roasted), and nut-and-honey sweets. Afterwards she brought a freshly roasted chicken, ham, preserves made with honey, and preserves made with sugar.
So spent they in festivity the day, And all were cheered; nor was Apollo's harp Silent, nor did the Muses spare to add Responsive melody of vocal sweets. But when the sun's bright orb had now declined, Each to his mansion, wheresoever built By the lame matchless Architect, withdrew. Jove also, kindler of the fires of heaven, His couch ascending as at other times When gentle sleep approach'd him, slept serene, With golden-sceptred Juno at his side.
So saying, he urged Minerva prompt before. In form a shrill-voiced Harpy of long wing Through ether down she darted, while the Greeks In all their camp for instant battle arm'd. Ambrosial sweets and nectar she instill'd Into his breast, lest he should suffer loss Of strength through abstinence, then soar'd again To her great Sire's unperishing abode. And now the Grecians from their gallant fleet All pour'd themselves abroad. As when thick snow From Jove descends, driven by impetuous gusts Of the cloud-scattering North, so frequent shone Issuing from the fleet the dazzling casques, Boss'd bucklers, hauberks strong, and ashen spears. Upwent the flash to heaven; wide all around The champain laugh'd with beamy brass illumed, And tramplings of the warriors on all sides Resounded, amidst whom Achilles arm'd. He gnash'd his teeth, fire glimmer'd in his eyes, Anguish intolerable wrung his heart And fury against Troy, while he put on His glorious arms, the labor of a God. First, to his legs his polish'd greaves he clasp'd Studded with silver, then his corselet bright Braced to his bosom, his huge sword of brass Athwart his shoulder slung, and his broad shield Uplifted last, luminous as the moon. Such as to mariners a fire appears, Kindled by shepherds on the distant top Of some lone hill; they, driven by stormy winds, Reluctant roam far off the fishy deep, Such from Achilles' burning shield divine A lustre struck the skies; his ponderous helm He lifted to his brows; starlike it shone, And shook its curling crest of bushy gold, By Vulcan taught to wave profuse around. So clad, godlike Achilles trial made If his arms fitted him, and gave free scope To his proportion'd limbs; buoyant they proved As wings, and high upbore his airy tread. He drew his father's spear forth from his case, Heavy and huge and long. That spear, of all Achaia's sons, none else had power to wield; Achilles only could the Pelian spear Brandish, by Chiron for his father hewn From Pelion's top for slaughter of the brave. His coursers, then, Automedon prepared And Alcimus, adjusting diligent The fair caparisons; they thrust the bits Into their mouths, and to the chariot seat Extended and made fast the reins behind. The splendid scourge commodious to the grasp Seizing, at once Automedon upsprang Into his place; behind him, arm'd complete Achilles mounted, as the orient sun All dazzling, and with awful tone his speech Directed to the coursers of his Sire.
"Now, listen and remember. In an hour's time the wine will arrive, savories, pies, and sweets--bring them all up at once. That box Andrey has got is to be brought up at once, too. Open it, and hand champagne immediately. And the girls, we must have the girls, Marya especially."
Daughter! thou hast abandon'd, as it seems, Yon virtuous Chief for ever; shall no care Thy mind engage of brave Achilles more? Before his gallant fleet mourning he sits His friend, disconsolate; the other Greeks Sat and are satisfied; he only fasts. Go then--instil nectar into his breast, And sweets ambrosial, that he hunger not.
"To Plotnikov's shop--first-rate!" cried Mitya, as though struck by an idea. "Misha," he turned to the boy as he came in, "look here, run to Plotnikov's and tell them that Dmitri Fyodorovitch sends his greetings, and will be there directly.... But listen, listen, tell them to have champagne, three dozen bottles, ready before I come, and packed as it was to take to Mokroe. I took four dozen with me then," he added (suddenly addressing Pyotr Ilyitch); "they know all about it, don't you trouble, Misha," he turned again to the boy. "Stay, listen; tell them to put in cheese, Strasburg pies, smoked fish, ham, caviare, and everything, everything they've got, up to a hundred roubles, or a hundred and twenty as before.... But wait: don't let them forget dessert, sweets, pears, water-melons, two or three or four--no, one melon's enough, and chocolate, candy, toffee, fondants; in fact, everything I took to Mokroe before, three hundred roubles' worth with the champagne ... let it be just the same again. And remember, Misha, if you are called Misha--His name is Misha, isn't it?" He turned to Pyotr Ilyitch again.