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The women of England.It may not be amiss to give from these works some illustrations of life in England as Bruno found it.

England, as in the days of Erasmus, was renowned on the continent for its beautiful women, and Bruno’s passionate and enthusiastic nature could not but feel the attraction of “the fair and gracious nymphs of England.” In the Cena he appeals to the muses of England, “gracious and gentle, soft and tender, young, fair and delicate, blond-haired, white of chin, pink of cheek, of enticing lips, eyes divine, breasts of ivory, and hearts of adamant: how many thoughts do I weave for you in my mind, how many emotions besiege my spirit, how many passions fill my life, how many tears pour from my eyes, sighs burst from my breast, fires sparkle from my heart?”[73] Nature was taking its revenge indeed for the long years of suppression in the Church. If this dark, slender, “interesting” Italian found favour with the fair and cultured inhabitants of England, he was the less successful with the people in general, the Plebs, then as now uncompromisingly opposed to the “foreigner.” In his belief England “could boast of a Plebs which for want of respect, rudeness, roughness, rusticity, savagery, ill training, was second to none in the world.”[74] No doubt he writes from experience when he describes the greater part of them as “appearing like so many wolves and bears, when they see a foreigner—one part of them, the artisans, shopkeepers, knowing you as some kind of foreigner, screw their noses at you, call you dog! traitor! stranger! which is with them a term of high abuse, and renders its object liable to all the injuries in the world, no matter what manner of man he is, young or old, in gown or in uniform, noble or gentleman. They will come upon you with a rustic fury, careless of the who or why, where, or how, not referring to one another, but every one, giving vent to the natural hatred he has for the foreigner, will try with his own hand and his own rod to take the measure of your doublet, and if you are not careful to save yourself, of the hair of your head;—and when at length you think you may be allowed to go to the barber’s, and to rest your wearied, ill-handled body, behold them so many executioners and tipstaffs;—if they can pretend that you touched any one of them, you will have your back and legs as sore as if you had the heels of Mercury, or were mounted upon the Pegasean Horse, or bestrode the steed of Perseus, the Hippogriff of Astolfo, the dromedary of Madian, or had trotting under you one of the giraffes of the three Magicians: by force of blows they will make you run, helping you forward with their heavy fists—better for you were they hoofs of ox, ass, or mule: and will not let you go till they have you fast in a prison—and there I take my leave of you.” In the second dialogue of the Cena, there occurs incidentally, a characteristic account of the state of Elizabethan London. Fulke Greville had agreed with Bruno to have a discussion in his house on the Copernican theory, on the evening of Ash Wednesday. When the day came, no further message arriving, Bruno concluded that the meeting had been postponed, and after dinner went out to visit some Italian friends. Returning after sunset, he found Florio and Guin (Gwynne), impatiently awaiting him: a number of cavaliers, gentlemen, and doctors, had met to hear the discussion, but the chief character of the play was awanting. They hurried him off, in the dark, and thinking to shorten the road, left the straight way and made for the Thames to get a boat to take them to the Palace. “Arrived at the bridge of Lord Buckhurst’s Palace, we shouted and cried for ‘oares’—‘id est Gondolieri’—and wasted as much time as would easily have sufficed to take us by land to our destination, and to have done some business on the way. At last from afar two boatmen replied, and slowly, slowly drew up to the shore; after many interrogations and replies as to the whence, whither, why, and how much, they rested the bow on the last step of the bridge. Then one of the two, that appeared like the ancient boatman of the Tartarean world, gave his hand to the Nolan, while the other, who I think was his son, although his years were five and sixty or so, received the rest of us. Although there was no Hercules or Aeneas or Rhadamanth, king of Sarza, still

… Gemuit sub pondere cimba

Sutilis, et multam accepit limosa paludem. …

“The sweet harmony (of its creaking and whistling) like love, invited us to forget our misfortunes, the times and the seasons, and to accompany the sounds with song. Florio (recalling his days of love) sang Dove senza me dolce mia vita, and the Nolan replied with Saracin dolente or Femenil ingegno, and the like; and so little by little we advanced as the barque permitted. Although worms and age had reduced it to something like cork, it seemed from its festina lente all of lead, and the arms of the two ancients worn out. So with much time we made little way, and before we had covered a third of the distance—a little beyond the place they call the Temple—our old fathers, instead of hurrying, ran their prow alongside the shore. To the Nolan asking if they wished a little breathing time, they answered that they were not going any further, for this was their stance. In conclusion, they would not budge for us, and when we had paid them and thanked them (there is nothing else to do when you suffer a wrong from one of these canaille), they showed us the direct road for getting on to the street. Now, oh for your help, Maphelina, muse of Merlin! That was a road which commenced in a black mud, from which there was no escape even by good luck. The Nolan, who had studied and practised in the schools more than we, bade us follow him through a passage, that he thought to see, filthy though it was. But he had not ceased speaking when he was planted in the mire so firmly that he could not drag out his limbs, and so with mutual help we went through the midst of it, hoping that the purgatory would be of short duration; but by unjust and hard fate he and we found ourselves engulfed in a slimy passage, that, just as if it were the ‘field of jealousy’ or the ‘garden of delights,’ was bounded on this side and on that by good walls, and because there was no light to guide us we could not distinguish between the way we had come and the way we ought to go, hoping at every step for the end.” … “Higher up the street we found a lava which on one side left a stony place where we could walk dry; step by step we stumbled like drunk men—and not without danger of breaking a head or a leg. To make a long story short at last the Elysian fields appeared, viz. the broad, ordinary street—and then from the houses we discovered we were about twenty steps from the place where we had set out to find the boatman, and not far from the Nolan’s rooms!” The temptation to give up the expedition was overcome, and after sundry adventures with apprentices, servitors, and bravos of the gentle class, they arrived safely at Fulke Greville’s, where supper was already in progress.

Hostility in England.In the Italian dialogues the personal note of complaint sounds more highly than in Bruno’s other works, and we may imagine that Bruno himself felt neglected in England more than in other countries, while English hostility to his teaching was probably more contemptuous, therefore more galling and more difficult to overcome. He might repeat as he did, the bold saying that “to the true philosopher every country is fatherland,” or call himself with Socrates a citizen of the world; but a touch of despair sounds through the words:—“a citizen and servant of the world, son of Father Sol and Mother Earth; because he loves the world too much, he must be hated, cursed, persecuted, and rejected by it. Meanwhile let him not be idle, nor ill-occupied while awaiting death, transmigration, change.”[75] Elsewhere there is almost a savage stoicism; he cries that he is attacked not by one but by many, almost by all, and the reason is that he hates the people, cares not for the multitude, adores one thing only:—“That through which he in subjection is free, in pain content, in necessity rich, in death living, and through which he envies not those who in freedom are slaves, in pleasure pained, in riches poor, in life dead, because in the body they have a chain that binds them, in the spirit an inferno that depresses them, in the soul error that weakens them, and in the mind lethargy that slays, etc.”[76] Yet the climate of England seems to have pleased Bruno: “there more than in any other region the climate is temperate; for the excessive rigour of the snows is driven out by the earth beneath, and the superfluous fervour of the sun blesses it with a continuous, a perpetual spring, as is testified by the ever green and flowery land.”[77] From the Spaccio, it appears that he was struck in England, inter alia, with the multitude of crows, the richness of the sheep and the sleekness of the cattle, the stern game-laws, and the land-hunger of the people.[78]