Part 14
There lived in Houndsditch, about the year 1632, one Alexander Hart, who had been a soldier formerly, a comely old man, of good aspect, he professed questionary astrology and a little of physic; his greatest skill was to elect young gentlemen fit times to play at dice, that they might win or get money. Lilly relates that “he went unto him for resolutions for three questions at several times, and he erred in every one.” He says, that to speak soberly of him he was but a cheat, as appeared suddenly after; for a rustical fellow of the city, desirous of knowledge, contracted with Hart, to assist for a conference with a spirit, and paid him twenty pounds of thirty pounds the contract. At last, after many delays, and no spirit appearing, nor money returned, the young man indicted him for a cheat at the Old Bailey in London. The jury found the bill, and at the hearing of the cause this jest happened: some of the bench inquired what Hart did? “He sat like an alderman in his gown,” quoth the fellow; at which the court fell into a laughter, most of the court being aldermen. He was to have been set upon the pillory for this cheat; but John Taylor the water poet being his great friend, got the lord chief justice Richardson to bail him, ere he stood upon the pillory, and so Hart fled presently into Holland, where he ended his days.[40]
[40] Autobiography, vol. ii, Lilly’s Life.
REV. THOMAS COOKE.
The verses at the end of the following letter may excuse the insertion of a query, which would otherwise be out of place in a publication not designed to be a channel of inquiry.
_To the Editor._
Sir,--I should feel much obliged, if the _Table Book_ can supply some account of a clergyman of the name of Thomas Cooke, who, it is supposed, resided in Shropshire, and was the author of a very beautiful poem, in folio, (published by subscription, about ninety years since,) entitled “The Immortality of the Soul.” I have a very imperfect copy of this work, and am desirous of ascertaining, from any of your multifarious readers, whether or not the poem ever became public, and where it is probable I could obtain a glimpse of a perfect impression. Mine has no title-page, and about one moiety of the work has been destroyed by the sacrilegious hands of some worthless animal on two legs!
The list of subscribers plainly proves that Mr. Cooke must have been a man of good family, and exalted connections. On one of the blank leaves in my copy, the following lines appear, written by Mr. Cooke himself; and, considering the trammels by which he was confined, I think the verses are not without merit; at any rate, the subject of them appears to have been a beautiful creature.
By giving this article a place in the _Table Book_, you will much oblige
Your subscriber and admirer,
G. J. D.
_Islington-green._
AN ACROSTIC
On a most beautiful and accomplished young Lady. London, 1748.
M eekness--good-humour--each transcendent grace, I s seen conspicuous on thy joyous face; S weet’s the carnation to the rambling bee, S o art thou, CHARLOTTE! always sweet to me!
C an aught compare successfully with those H igh beauties which thy countenance compose, A ll doubly heighten’d by that gentle mind, R enown’d on earth, and prais’d by ev’ry wind? L ov’d object! no--then let it be thy care O f fawning friends, at all times, to beware-- T o shun this world’s delusions and disguise, T he knave’s soft speeches, and the flatt’rer’s lies, E steeming virtue, and discarding vice!
G o where I may, howe’er remote the clime, W here’er my feet may stray, thy charms sublime, I llustrious maid! approv’d and prais’d by all, L ike some enchantment shall my soul enthrall-- L ight ev’ry path--illuminate my mind-- I nspire my pen with sentiments refin’d-- A nd teach my tongue on this fond pray’r to dwell, “M ay Heav’n preserve the maid it loves so well!”
THOMAS COOKE.
* * * * *
~Varieties.~
CURIOUS PLAY BILL.
The following remarkable theatrical announcement is a mixed appeal of vanity and poverty to the taste and feelings of the inhabitants of a town in Sussex.
(_Copy._)
At the old theatre in East Grinstead, on Saturday, May, 1758, will be represented (by particular desire, and for the benefit of Mrs. P.) the deep and affecting Tragedy of Theodosius, or the Force of Love, with magnificent scenes, dresses, &c.
Varanes, by Mr. P., who will strive, as far as possible, to support the character of this fiery Persian Prince, in which he was so much admired and applauded at Hastings, Arundel, Petworth, Midworth, Lewes, &c.
Theodosius, by a young gentleman from the University of Oxford, who never appeared on any stage.
Athenais, by Mrs. P. Though her present condition will not permit her to wait on gentlemen and ladies out of the town with tickets, she hopes, as on former occasions, for their liberality and support.
Nothing in Italy can exceed the altar, in the first scene of the play. Nevertheless, should any of the Nobility or Gentry wish to see it ornamented with flowers, the bearer will bring away as many as they choose to favour him with.
As the coronation of Athenais, to be introduced in the fifth act, contains a number of personages, more than sufficient to fill all the dressing-rooms, &c., it is hoped no gentlemen and ladies will be offended at being refused admission behind the scenes.
N. B. The great yard dog, that made so much noise on Thursday night, during the last act of King Richard the Third, will be sent to a neighbour’s over the way; and on account of the prodigious demand for places, part of the stable will be laid into the boxes on one side, and the granary be open for the same purpose on the other.
_Vivat Rex._[41]
* * * * *
IT’S NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND.
At Chester, in the beginning of the year 1790, a reputable farmer, on the evening of a market-day, called at the shop of Mr. Poole, bookseller, and, desiring to speak with him at the door, put a shilling into his hand, telling him, “he had owed it to him many years.” The latter asked, for what? To which the farmer replied, that “When a boy, in buying a book-almanac at his shop, he had stolen another--the reflection of which had frequently given him much uneasiness.” If any one who sees this ever wronged his neighbour, let him be encouraged by the courage of the farmer of Chester, to make reparation in like manner, and so make clean his conscience.
* * * * *
CONSCIENCE.
There is no power in holy men, Nor charm in prayer--nor purifying form Of penitence--nor outward look--nor fast-- Nor agony--nor, greater than all these, The innate tortures of that deep despair, Which is remorse without the fear of hell. But all in all sufficient to itself Would make a hell of heaven--can exorcise From out the unbounded spirit, the quick sense Of its own sins, wrongs, sufferance, and revenge Upon itself; there is no future pang Can deal that justice on the self-condemn’d He deals on his own soul.
_Byron._
* * * * *
EPITAPH BY DR. LOWTH, late bishop of London, on a monument in the church of Cudesden, Oxfordshire, to the memory of his daughter, translated from the Latin:--
Dear as thou didst in modest worth excel, More dear than in a daughter’s name--farewell! Farewell, dear Mary--but the hour is nigh When, if I’m worthy, we shall meet on high: Then shall I say, triumphant from the tomb, “Come, to thy father’s arms, dear Mary, come!”
* * * * *
INSCRIPTION
From the book at Rigi, in Switzerland.
Nine weary up-hill miles we sped The setting sun to see; Sulky and grim he went to bed. Sulky and grim went we.
Seven sleepless hours we past, and then, The rising sun to see, Sulky and grim we rose again. Sulky and grim rose he.
[41] Boaden’s Life of Mrs. Siddons.
A goose-herd in the fen-lands; next, he Be-doctor’d Norfolk cows; much vext, he Turn’d bookseller, and poetaster, And was a tolerable master Of title-pages, but his rhymes Were shocking, at the best of times. However, he was very honest, And now, poor fellow, he is--“_non est_.”
*
_For the Table Book._
WILLIAM HALL, or as he used to style himself, “Antiquarian Hall,” “Will. Will-be-so,” and “Low-Fen-Bill-Hall,” or, as he was more generally termed by the public, “Old Hall,” died at Lynn, in Norfolk, on the 24th of January, 1825. From some curious autobiographical sketches in rhyme, published by himself, in the decline of life, it appears that he was born on June 1, O.S. 1748, at Willow Booth, a small island in the fens of Lincolnshire, near Heckington Ease, in the parish of South Kyme.
“Kyme, God knows. Where no corn grows, Nothing but a little hay; And the water comes, And takes it all away.”
His ancestors on the father’s side were all “fen slodgers,” having lived there for many generations; his mother was
“a half Yorkshire The other half was Heckington, Vulgar a place as and one.”
When about four years old, he narrowly escaped drowning; for, in his own words, he
“overstretching took a slip, And popp’d beneath a merchant’s ship;[42] No soul at hand but me and mother; Nor could I call for one or other.”
She, however, at the hazard of her own life, succeeded in saving her son’s. At eleven years old, he went to school, in Brothertoft chapel, for about six months, in which time he derived all the education he ever received. His love of reading was so great, that as soon as he could manage a gunning-boat, he used to employ his Sundays either in seeking for water-birds’ eggs, or to
“_shouve_ the boat A catching fish, to make a groat, And sometimes with a snare or hook; Well, what was’t for?--to buy a book, Propensity so in him lay.”
Before he arrived at man’s estate, he lost his mother, and soon afterwards his father married again. Will. himself, on arriving at man’s estate, married “Suke Holmes,” and became a “gozzard,” or gooseherd; that is, a keeper and breeder of geese, for which the fens were, at that time, famous throughout the kingdom, supplying the London markets with fowls, and the warehouses with feathers and quills. In these parts, the small feathers are plucked from the live geese five times a year, at Lady-tide, Midsummer, Lammas, Michaelmas, and Martinmas, and the larger feathers and quills are pulled twice. Goslings even are not spared, for it is thought that early plucking tends to increase the succeeding feathers. It is said that the mere plucking hurts the fowl very little, as the owners are careful not to pull until the feathers are ripe: those plucked after the geese are dead, are affirmed not to be so good. The number of geese kept by Will. must have been very great, for his “brood geese,” alone, required five coombs of corn for daily consumption.
The inundations to which the fens were then liable, from breaches, or overflowing of the banks, overwhelmed him with difficulties, and ruined his prospects.
“The poor old geese away were floated, Till some high lands got lit’rally coated; Nor did most peasants think it duty Them to preserve, but made their booty; And those who were ‘not worth a goose,’ On other people’s liv’d profuse.”
After many vicissitudes and changes of residence, he settled at Marshland, in Norfolk, where his wife practised phlebotomy and midwifery, while he officiated as an auctioneeer, cowleech, &c. &c. Indeed he appeared to have been almost bred to the doctoring profession, for his own mother was
“a good cow-doctor, And always doctor’d all her own, Being cowleech both in flesh and bone.”
His mother-in-law was no less skilful, for in Will.’s words
“She in live stock had took her care, And of recipes had ample share, Which I retain unto this day.”
His father-in-law was an equally eminent practitioner; when, says Will.,
“I married Sukey Holmes, her father Did more than them put altogether; Imparted all his skill to me, Farrier, cowleech, and surgery, All which he practised with success.”
Will. tells of a remarkable and surprising accident, which closed his career as a cowleech.
“The rheumatism, (dreadful charm,) Had fix’d so close in my left arm, So violent throbb’d, that without stroke To touch--it absolutely broke! Went with a spring, made a report, And hence in cowleech spoil’d my sport; Remain’d so tender, weak, and sore, I never dare attempt it more.”
Thus disqualified, he removed to Lynn, and opening a shop in Ferry-street, commenced his operations as a purchaser and vender of old books, odds and ends, and old articles of various descriptions; from whence he obtained the popular appellation of “Old Hall.” On a board over the door, he designated this shop the
~“Antiquarian Library,”~
and thus quaintly announced his establishment to the public:
“In Lynn, Ferry-street, Where, should a stranger set his feet, Just cast an eye, read ‘Antiquary!’ Turn in, and but one hour tarry, Depend upon’t, to his surprise, sir, He would turn out somewhat the wiser.”
He had great opportunity to indulge in “Bibliomania,” for he acquired an extensive collection of scarce, curious, and valuable books, and became, in fact, the only dealer in “old literature” at Lynn. He versified on almost every occasion that seemed opportune for giving himself and his verses publicity; and, in one of his rhyming advertisements, he alphabetised the names of ancient and modern authors, by way of catalogue. In addition to his bookselling business, he continued to practise as an auctioneer. He regularly kept a book-stall, &c. in Lynn Tuesday-market, from whence he occasionally knocked down his articles to the best bidder; and he announced his sales in his usual whimsical style. His hand-bill, on one of these occasions, runs thus:
“LYNN, 19th SEPTEMBER, 1810.
“First Tuesday in the next October, Now do not doubt but we’ll be sober! If Providence permits us action, You may depend upon AN AUCTION, At the stall That’s occupied by WILLIAM HALL. To enumerate a task would be, So best way is to come and see; But not to come too vague an errant, We’ll give a sketch which we will warrant. “About _one hundred books_, in due lots, And pretty near the same in _shoe-lasts_; _Coats_, _waistcoats_, _breeches_, shining _buttons_, Perhaps ten thousand _leather cuttings_. Sold at per pound, your lot but ask it, Shall be weigh’d to you in a basket; Some lots of _tools_, to make a try on. About one hundred weight of _iron_; _Scales_, _earthenware_, _arm-chairs_, a _tea-urn_, _Tea-chests_, a _herring-tub_, and so on; With various more, that’s our intention, Which are too tedious here to mention. “N. B. To undeceive, ’fore you come nigher, The duty charg’d upon the buyer; And, should we find we’re not perplext, We’ll keep it up the Tuesday next.”
During repeated visits to his surviving relatives in his native fens, he observed the altered appearance of the scene from the improved method of drainage. It had become like “another world,” and he resolved
“to try His talent for posterity;”
and “make a book,” under the title of “The Low Fen Journal,” to comprise “a chain of Incidents relating to the State of the Fens, from the earliest Account to the present Time.” As a specimen of the work he published, in the summer of 1812, an octavo pamphlet of twenty-four pages, called a “Sketch of Local History,” by “_Will. Will-be-so_,” announcing
“If two hundred subscribers will give in their aid, The whole of this journal is meant to be laid Under public view.”
This curious pamphlet of odds and ends in prose and rhyme, without order or arrangement, contained a “caution to the buyer.”
“Let any read that will not soil or rend it, But should they ask to borrow, _pray don’t lend it_! Advise them, ‘_Go and buy_;’ ’twill better suit My purpose; and with you prevent dispute. With me a maxim ’tis, he that won’t buy Does seldom well regard his neighbour’s property; And did you chew the bit, so much as I do From lending books, I think ’twould make you shy too.”
In the course of the tract, he presented to “the critics” the following admonitory address.
“Pray, sirs, consider, had you been Bred where whole winters nothing’s seen But naked flood for miles and miles, Except a boat the eye beguiles; Or coots, in clouds, by buzzards teaz’d, Your ear with seeming thunder seiz’d From rais’d decoy,--there ducks on flight, By tens of thousands darken light; None to assist in greatest need, Parents but very badly read, No conversation strike the mind, But of the lowest, vulgar kind; Five miles from either church or school, No coming there, but cross a pool; Kept twenty years upon that station, With only six months’ education; Traverse the scene, then weigh it well, Say, _could you better write or spell_?”
One extract, in prose, is an example of the disposition and powers of his almost untutored mind, viz.
“_No animation without generation_ seems a standing axiom in philosophy: but upon tasting the berry of a plant greatly resembling brooklime, but with a narrower leaf, I found it attended with a loose fulsomeness, very different from any thing I had ever tasted; and on splitting one of them with my nail, out sprang a fluttering maggot, which put me upon minute examination. The result of which was, that every berry, according to its degree of maturity, contained a proportionate maggot, up to the full ripe shell, where a door was plainly discerned, and the insect had taken its flight. I have ever since carefully inspected the herb, and the result is always the same, viz. if you split ten thousand of the berries, you discover nothing but an animated germ. It grows in shallow water, and is frequently accompanied with the water plantain. Its berry is about the size of a red currant, and comes on progressively, after the manner of juniper in the berry: the germ is first discoverable about the middle of July, and continues till the frost subdues it. And my conjectures lead me to say, that one luxurious plant shall be the mother of many scores of flies. I call it the _fly berry plant_.”
Thus far the “Sketch.” He seems to have caught the notion of his “Low Fen Journal” from a former fen genius, whose works are become of great price, though it must be acknowledged, more for their quaintness and rarity, than their intrinsic merit. Will. refers to him in the following apologetical lines.
“Well, on the earth he knows of none, With a full turn just like his mind; Nor only one that’s dead and gone, Whose genius stood as his inclin’d: No doubt the public wish to know it, _John Taylor_, call’d the _water poet_, Who near two centuries ago Wrote much such nonsense as I do.”
The sale of the “Sketch” not answering his expectations, no further symptoms of the “Journal” made their appearance at that time.
In the summer of 1815, after forty-three years’ practice as an auctioneer, he announced his retirement by the following laconic farewell.
“RAP SENIOR’s given it up at last, With thanks for ev’ry favour past; Alias ‘ANTIQUARIAN HALL’ Will never more be heard to brawl; As auctioneer no more will lie, But’s thrown his wicked hammer by. Should you prefer him to appraise, He’s licensed for future days; Or still employ him on commission, He’ll always treat on fair condition, For goods brought to him at his stand. Or at your home, to sell by hand; Or should you want his _pen’s_ assistance, He’ll wait on you at any distance, To lot, collect, in place of clerk, Or prevent moving goods i’ th’ dark; In short, for help or counsel’s aid, You need not of him be afraid.”
The harvest of 1816 proved wet and unfavourable, and he thought “it almost exceeded any thing in his memory;” wherefore the world was favoured with “Reflections upon Times, and Times and Times! or a more than Sixty Years’ Tour of the Mind,” by “_Low-Fen-Bill-Hall_.” This was an octavo pamphlet of sixteen pages, in prose, quite as confused as his other productions, “transmitting to posterity,” as the results of sixty years’ experience, that “the frequency of thunderstorms in the spring,”--“the repeated appearance of water-spouts,”--“an innumerable quantity of black snails,”--“an unusual number of field mice,”--and “the great many snakes to be seen about,” are _certain_ “indications of a wet harvest.” To these observations, intermingled with digression upon digression, he prefixed as one of the mottoes, an extremely appropriate quotation from _Deut._ c. 32. v. 29, “O that they were wise, that they _understood_ this!”
In the spring of 1818, when in his seventieth year, or, as he says, “David’s gage being near complete,” he determined on an attempt to publish his “Low Fen Journal,” in numbers; the first of which he thus announced:
“_A Lincolnshire rais’d medley pie_, An original miscellany, Not meant as canting, _puzzling mystery_, But for a general true FEN HISTORY, Such as design’d some time ago, By him ’yclept _Will_. _Will-be-so_; Here’s Number ONE for publication, If meet the public’s approbation, _Low-Fen-Bill-Hall_ his word engages To send about two hundred pages, Collected by his gleaning pains, Mix’d with the fruit of his own brains.”
This specimen of the work was as unintelligible as the before-mentioned introductory “Sketch,” partaking of the same autobiographical, historical, and religious character, with acrostic, elegiac, obituarian, and other extraneous pieces in prose and rhyme. His life had been passed in vicissitude and hardship, “oft’ pining for a bit of bread;” and from experience, he was well adapted to
“tell, To whom most extra lots befell; Who liv’d for months on stage of planks, ’Midst captain Flood’s most swelling pranks, Five miles from any food to have, Yea often risk’d a wat’ry grave;”
yet his facts and style were so incongruous that speaking of the “Sketch,” he says, when he
“sent it out, Good lack! to know what ’twas about? He might as well have sent it muzzled, For half the folks seem’d really puzzled. Soliciting for patronage, He might have spent near half an age; From all endeavours undertook, He could not get it to a book.”
Though the only “historical” part of the first number of his “Fen Journal,” in twenty-four pages, consisted of prosaic fragments of his grandfather’s “poaching,” his mother’s “groaning,” his father’s “fishing,” and his own “conjectures;” yet he tells the public, that
“Protected by kind Providence, I mean in less than twelve months hence, Push’d by no very common sense, To give six times as much as here is, And hope there’s none will think it dear is, Consid’ring th’ matter rather queer is.”
In prosecution of his intentions, No. 2 shortly followed; and, as it was alike heterogeneous and unintelligible, he says he had “caught the Swiftiania, in running digression on digression,” with as many whimseys as “Peter, Martin, and John had in twisting their father’s will.” He expected that this “gallimaufry” and himself would be consecrated to posterity, for he says,