Such, however, as are of the blood-royal
do not kiss their inferiors, but offer the back of the hand, as men do,
by way of saluting each other."
Erasmus too--the grave, the phlegmatic Erasmus, melts into love and
playful thoughts, when he thinks of kisses--"Did you but know, my
Faustus," he writes to one of his friends, "the pleasures which England
affords, you would fly here on winged feet, and if your gout would not
allow you, you would wish yourself a Daedalus. To mention to you one among
many things, here are nymphs of the loveliest looks, good humoured, and
whom you would prefer even to your favourite Muses. Here also prevails a
custom never enough to be commended, that wherever you come, every one
receives you with a kiss, and when you take your leave, every one gives
you a kiss; when you return, kisses again meet you. If any one leaves you
they give you a kiss; if you meet any one, the first salutation is a
kiss; in short, wherever you go, kisses every where abound; which, my
Faustus, did you once taste how very sweet and how very fragrant they
are, you would not, like Solon, wish for ten years exile in England, but
would desire to spend there the whole of your life."
Oh what miracles have been wrought by a kiss! Philosophers, stoics,
hermits, and misers have become men of the world, of taste, and of
generosity; idiots have become wise; and, truth to tell, wise men
idiots--warriors have turned cowards and cowards brave--statesmen have
become poets, and political economists sensible men.
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