Part 157

When _Giles_ attuned his song in rural strains, He sang of Sap’ston’s groves, her meads, and plains; Described the various seasons as they roll’d, Of homely joys and peace domestic told. The Farmer there, alas! no more bears rule, And no “joint-tenants” sit in “Duty’s school:” No happy labourers now with humble fare His fire-side comforts and instruction share. No longer master he of those sweet fields, No more for him the year its bounty yields, Nor his the hope to see his children round With decent competence and comfort crown’d. These scenes and hopes from him for ever flown, In indigent old age he lives to mourn.

George Bloomfield subjoins, in explanation, on these lines, “My reading in the Bury paper of the 6th of Dec. 1820, an advertisement of an assignment for the benefit of creditors of the effects of Mr. Willian Austin, gave rise to the above. Mr. A. was the young master of Giles, when Giles was the _Farmer’s Boy_; and the admirers of rural poetry, as well in the new as the old world, have been made acquainted with the Austin family by means of the poem of that name. Mr. A. held the farm near thirty years, and

’twas the same that his grandfather till’d.

He has _ten_ children, some of them very young. He has been by some accused of imprudence: but the heavy poor-rates, (he paid 36_l._ last year,) the weight of a numerous family, and the depreciation of the price of produce, were the principal causes of his fall. He has been a most indulgent father, a kind master, and a good neighbour.”

Twenty years after writing the lines to the “Psalm-singer, Parish Clerk, and Sexton” of Sapiston, George again berhymed him. Preceding the effusion, is the following

MEMORANDUM.

“My old friend Wisset has now entered his eighty-third year, and is blind, and therefore cannot write; but he sent his kind regards to me by a young man, and bade him repeat four lines to me. The young man forgot the lines, but he said they were about _old age_ and _cold winter_. I sent him the following:--

DEAR OLD BROTHER BARD,

Now clothed with snow is hill and dale, And all the streams with ice are bound! How chilling is the wintry gale! How bleak and drear the scene around!

Yet midst the gloom bright gleams appear, Our drooping spirits to sustain, Hope kindly whispers in the ear Sweet Spring will soon return again.

’Tis thus, old friend, with you and me Life’s Spring and Summer both are flown, The marks of wintry age we see, Our locks to frosty white are grown.

O let us then our voices raise, For favours past due homage bring; Thus spend the winter of our days, Till God proclaims a glorious Spring.

GEORGE BLOOMFIELD.

_January 23, 1823._

The MSS. from whence the present selections have been hastily made, were accompanied by a letter from George Bloomfield, written nearly a month ago. They were delayed by the person who transmitted the parcel till the opportunity of noticing them in this work had almost passed. All that could be done in an hour or two is before the reader; and no more has been aimed at than what appears requisite to awaken sympathy and crave assistance towards an aged and indigent brother of the author of the _Farmer’s Boy_. George’s present feelings will be better represented by his own letter than by extracting from it.

_2, High Baxter Street, Bury St. Edmond’s, Dec. 5th, 1827._

TO MR. HONE,

Sir,--A gentleman desires me to write to you, as editor of the _Table Book_, it being his wish that a view which he sent of the little cottage at Honington should appear in that very curious work. The birth-place of Robert Bloomfield I think may excite the interest of some of your readers; but, sir, if they find out that you correspond with a superannuated _cold water poet_, your work will smell of poverty.

Lord Byron took pains to flog two of my brothers, as poachers on the preserves of the qualified proprietors of literature. It is thought, if he had not been wroth with the Edinburgh Reviewers, these poor poachers might have escaped; they, like me, had neither birth nor education to entitle them to a qualification.

If, sir, you ever saw an old wall blown down, or, as we have it here in the country, if the wall “_fall of its own accord_,” you may have observed that the first thing the workmen do, is to pick out the whole bricks into one heap, the bats into another, and the rubbish into a third. Thus, sir, if in what falls from me to you, you can find any whole bricks, or even bats, that may be placed in your work, pick them out; but I much fear all will be but rubbish unfit for your purpose.

So much has been said, in the books published by my brothers, of “the little tailor’s four little sons,” who once resided in the old cottage, that I cannot add much that is new, and perhaps the little I have to relate will be uninteresting. But I think the great and truly good man, the late duke of Grafton, ought to have been more particularly mentioned. Surely, after near thirty years, the good sense and benevolence of that real _noble_man may be mentioned. When in my boyhood, he held the highest office in the state that a subject can fill, and like all that attain such preeminence, had his enemies; yet the more Junius and others railed at him, the more I revered him. He was our “Lord of the Manor,” and as I knew well his private character, I had no doubt but he was “all of a piece.” I have on foot joined the fox-chase, and followed the duke many an hour, and witnessed his endearing condescension to all who could run and shout. When Robert became known as the _Farmer’s Boy_, the duke earnestly cautioned him on no account to change his habits of _living_, but at the same time encouraged him in his habits of _reading_, and kindly gave him a gratuity of a shilling a day, to enable him to employ more time in reading than heretofore. This gratuity was always paid while the duke lived, and was continued by the present duke till Robert’s death.

Could poor Robert have kept his children in their old habits of _living_, he might have preserved some of the profits arising from his works, but he loved his children too tenderly to be a niggard; and, besides, he received his profits at a time when bread was six or seven shillings per stone: no wonder that with a sickly family to support, he was embarrassed.

The duke likewise strongly advised him not to write _too much_, but keep the ground he had gained, &c. As hereditary sealer of the writs in the Court of King’s Bench, the duke gave Robert the situation of under sealer, but his health grew so bad he was obliged to give it up; he held it several months, however, and doubtless many a poor fellow went to coop under Robert’s seal. It was peculiarly unfortunate he could not keep his place, for I think Mr. Allen, the master-sealer, did not live above two years, and it is more than probable the duke would have made Robert master-sealer, and then he would have had sufficient income. The duke’s condescension and kindness to my mother was very great, he learned her real character, and called on her at her own cottage, and freely talked of gone-by times, (her father was an old tenant to the duke.) He delicately left a half guinea at Mr. Roper’s, a gentleman farmer, to be given to her after his departure, and when he heard of her death he ordered a handsome gravestone to be placed over her, at his expense, and requested the Rev. Mr. Fellowes to write an inscription. It is thus engraven:--

BENEATH THIS STONE

Are deposited the mortal remains of

ELIZABETH GLOVER, who died Dec. 27th, 1803.

Her maiden name was MANBY, and she was twice married. By her first husband, who lies buried near this spot, she was mother of six children; the youngest of whom was ROBERT BLOOMFIELD, the pastoral Poet. In her household affairs she was a pattern of cleanliness, industry, and good management. By her kind, her meek, her inoffensive behaviour, she had conciliated the sincere good will of all her neighbours and acquaintance; nor amid the busy cares of time was she ever forgetful of Eternity. But her religion was no hypocritical service, no vain form of words; it consisted in loving God and keeping his commandments, as they have been made known to us by JESUS CHRIST.

_Reader, go thou and do likewise._

If ever I was proud of any thing it was of my mother, nor do I think, strong as is the praise in the above, it is overdone. For solid strength of intellect she surpassed all her sons, and had more real practical virtues than all of them put together. Kind Providence spared her to bless me till I was far on the wrong side of fifty.

I must say a word or two on her sons, because Capel Loftt, Esq., in his preface to my brother Nat’s poems, has said _too much_ about them, viz. “Beyond question, the brothers of this family are all _extraordinary_ men.” Now, sir, as I am the oldest of these brothers, I will tell first of myself. I wrote a little poem, when near seventy, on the “Thetford Spa;” but dreading those snarling curs, the _critics_, forebore to affix my name to it. Mr. Smith, of Cambridge, printed it gratuitously; but as soon as it was discovered I was the author, my acquaintance styled me the _cold water poet_. I think my title will do very well. Brother Nathaniel wrote some poems; unluckily they were printed and published here at Bury, and the pack of critics hunted down the book. Nat has had thirteen children, and most of them are living, and so is he. Brother Isaac was a machinist. John Boys, Esq. gave him in all twenty pounds, but he died a young man, and left his self-working pumps unfinished. Eight of his children are living.

The old cottage sold to Robert had been in the family near fourscore years. It proved a hard bargain to Robert; my mother and Isaac occupied the cottage, and could not pay rent; and after the death of my mother, poor Robert was in distress and sold it:--the lawyers would not settle the business, and Robert died broken-hearted, and never received sixpence!

The lawyers constantly endeavour to make work for the trade. I believe it to be true, as some say, that we are now as much _law_-ridden as we were _priest_-ridden some ages ago. I like Charlotte Smith’s definition of the Law Trade. Orlando, in the “Old Manor House,” says to Carr, the lawyer, “I am afraid you are all rogues together;” Carr replies, “More or less, my good friend;--some have more sense than others, and some a little more conscience--but for the rest, I am afraid we are all of us a little too much _professional_ rogues: though some of us, as individuals, would not starve the orphan, or break the heart of the widow, yet, in our vocation, we give all remorse of that sort to the winds.” My last account from Robert’s family says, the lawyers have not yet _settled_ the poor old cottage!

Nat and I only survive of the little tailor’s “extraordinary” children--quite past our labour, and destitute of many comforts we used to enjoy in youth. We have but one step farther to fall, (i.e.) into the workhouse! Yet in the nature of things it cannot be long ere death will close the scene. We have had our day, and night must come. I hope we shall welcome it as heartily as Sancho in Don Quixote did sleep, “Blessed be he who first invented sleep, it covers a man all over like a cloak.”

I shall indeed be agreeably disappointed if any one should bestow any thing upon Nat, or

Sir, your humble obedient servant,

GEO. BLOOMFIELD.

George Bloomfield is in his seventy-third year, and surely this fact, with the contents of the preceding columns, will be sufficient to excite commiseration in feeling and liberal minds. Mr. Faux, a respectable resident at Thetford, in Norfolk, is represented to me as being his friend. George Bloomfield’s own address at Bury St. Edmund’s is prefixed to his letter above. Either to Mr. Faux for him, or to himself direct, the remittance of a little money immediately would be highly serviceable. Something, however, beyond that is clearly requisite, and his statement of his brother Nathaniel’s equal necessities should be considered at the same time. There are names dignified by rank and talents in the list of individuals who admire the works of Robert Bloomfield, and should this sheet fall into their hands it is natural to presume that some of them may seek out and assist his surviving brothers in sorrowing old age. This, however, may not happen, and is not therefore to be relied upon.

The case of the family of the Bloomfields, altogether, is distressing. As this is a season for present-making and social-meeting, I venture to suggest that no gift can be better bestowed than on those who are in the utmost need; nor will the pleasures of a convivial party be lessened, if, while “the glasses sparkle on the board,” a subscription be volunteered towards keeping the last two brothers of Robert Bloomfield from the workhouse during their few remaining years of life. I have done my best to make their distress publicly known, and it remains with individuals to do their best to relieve it. Anything left at Messrs. Hunt and Clarke’s, 4, York-street, Covent Garden, shall be appropriated as the donors may direct. A _meeting_, and a few active individuals, would effect much.

_1st January, 1828._

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~Travellers~

EAST AND WEST.

_To the Editor._

Sir,--I send you a short and plain demonstration, that by travelling eastward or westward round the globe at a given rate, (if it were practicable to do so,) a man might experience a greater or lesser number of days and nights, than if he were to remain still in the same spot. This, I may venture to say, is a fact that very few people are aware of, and few would believe, until it were proved.

As “this goodly frame, the earth,” turns round upon its own axis once in twenty-four hours, and as the circumference of the globe is divided into 360 degrees, consequently every part of the globe’s surface must travel round its axis at the rate of fifteen degrees in one hour; or, which is the same thing, one degree in four minutes. Having premised this, we will suppose that a man sets off at seven o’clock in the morning, just as the sun rises above the horizon, and travels westward in the sun’s ecliptic; one degree before it sets, he will have light four minutes longer than if he were to remain at the place from whence he set out; and his day, instead of being twelve hours long, (dividing the twenty-four hours into twelve day and twelve night,) and closing at seven o’clock, will be twelve hours and four minutes, and close at four minutes past seven. He continues to travel in the same direction, and with the same velocity, during the night, (for he must never rest,) and that also will be four minutes longer than it would have been had he remained at the place where the sun set till it again rose; because, as he is travelling after the sun when it goes down, and from it as the morning approaches, of course it will be longer in overtaking him: he will be then two degrees from the starting place or goal, which you please, for we intend to send him completely round the world, and the sun will not rise the second morning till eight minutes past seven. His travel continues at the same rate, and he again has the sun four minutes longer, which does not set on the second day till twelve minutes past seven: this closes the third day. The next morning the sun rises not till sixteen minutes past seven; then he has travelled four degrees, and his day and night have each been four minutes longer than if he had been stationary. Now we will suppose another man to have gone from the same place at the same moment, (_viz._ seven o’clock,) taking the opposite direction. He travels east to meet the sun, and at the same rate of travel as our westward bound wight. The sun will go down upon him four minutes _sooner_ than if he had remained at the place from which he started, and eight minutes sooner than upon the other man: his day will close at fifty-six minutes past six. He goes on from the sun as it sinks, and towards it as it rises, and he will have light four minutes earlier than if he had stopped when the sun went down till it again rose, eight minutes sooner than he would have seen it at the starting post, and sixteen minutes sooner than the opposite traveller; this is at the end of the second day. He travels on; light again deserts him four minutes earlier, _viz._ at forty-eight minutes past six at the end of three degrees, and the second morning the sun will rise at forty-four minutes past six, sixteen minutes earlier than at the place he started from, and thirty-two minutes earlier than with the other man, with whom on the same morning it does not rise till sixteen minutes past seven. It is plain therefore, that while the western traveller has only seen two nights and two days, the eastern has enjoyed the same number of each, and more than half an hour of another day; and it is equally plain that if they continue to travel round the globe at the same rate of motion, the eastern traveller will have more days and nights than the western; those of the former being proportionally shorter than those of the latter. The following shows the commencement and length of each day to both travellers:--

WESTERN TRAVELLER’S EASTERN TRAVELLER’S 1st day begins 1st day begins at 7 o’clock, at 7 o’clock, morning. morning. 2 ------ 8 minutes past 7. 2 ------ 52 minutes past 6. 3 ------ 16 ------------ 7. 3 ------ 44 ------------ 6. 4 ------ 24 ------------ 7. 4 ------ 36 ------------ 6. 5 ------ 32 ------------ 7. 5 ------ 28 ------------ 6. 6 ------ 40 ------------ 7. 6 ------ 20 ------------ 6. 7 ------ 48 ------------ 7. 7 ------ 12 ------------ 6. 8 ------ 56 ------------ 7. 8 ------ 4 ------------ 6. 9 ------ 4 ------------ 8. 9 ------ 56 ------------ 5. 10 ------ 12 ------------ 8. 10 ------ 48 ------------ 5. 11 ------ 20 ------------ 8. 11 ------ 40 ------------ 5. 12 ------ 28 ------------ 8. 12 ------ 32 ------------ 5. 13 ------ 36 ------------ 8. 13 ------ 24 ------------ 5. 14 ------ 44 ------------ 8. 14 ------ 16 ------------ 5. 15 ------ 52 ------------ 8. 15 ------ 8 ------------ 5. 16 ------ -- ------------ 9. 30 degrees. 16 ------ -- ------------ 5. 17 ------ 8 ------------ 9. 17 ------ 52 ------------ 4. 18 ------ 16 ------------ 9. 18 ------ 44 ------------ 4. 19 ------ 24 ------------ 9. 19 ------ 36 ------------ 4. 20 ------ 32 ------------ 9. 20 ------ 28 ------------ 4. 21 ------ 40 ------------ 9. 21 ------ 20 ------------ 4. 22 ------ 48 ------------ 9. 22 ------ 12 ------------ 4. 23 ------ 56 ------------ 9. 23 ------ 4 ------------ 4. 24 ------ 4 ----------- 10. 24 ------ 56 ------------ 3. 25 ------ 12 ----------- 10. 25 ------ 48 ------------ 3. 26 ------ 20 ----------- 10. 26 ------ 40 ------------ 3. 27 ------ 28 ----------- 10. 27 ------ 32 ------------ 3. 28 ------ 36 ----------- 10. 28 ------ 24 ------------ 3. 29 ------ 44 ----------- 10. 29 ------ 16 ------------ 3. 30 ------ 52 ----------- 10. 30 ------ 8 ------------ 3. 31 ------ -- ----------- 11. 60 degrees. 31 ------ -- ------------ 3.

At the end of this degree, the sixtieth, the sun rises upon the eastern traveller at three in the morning, he having had thirty days and thirty nights. At the same degree it does not rise upon the western traveller till eleven in the morning, he having had the same number of days and nights. When, therefore, the morning of his thirty-first day is just breaking, the eastern traveller has had the sun eight hours. They have both then had an equal number of days and nights complete, but the eastern will have had eight hours of another day more than the western. Let us try it a little further. The

WESTERN TRAVELLER’S 32nd day will break at 8 min. past 11, morn. 33 16 11. 34 24 11. 35 32 11. 36 40 11. 37 48 11. 38 56 11. 39 4 12. 40 12 12. 41 20 12. 42 28 12. 43 36 12. 44 44 12. 45 52 12. 46 1 at noon, 90 degrees.

EASTERN TRAVELLER’S 32nd day will break at 52 min. past 2, morn. 33 44 2. 34 36 2. 35 28 2. 36 20 2. 37 12 2. 38 4 2. 39 56 1. 40 48 1. 41 40 1. 42 32 1. 43 24 1. 44 16 1. 45 8 1. 46 1. at noon, 90 degrees.

There appears to be two hours’ difference every fifteenth day.

WESTERN TRAVELLER’S 61st day will break at 3, P. M. 76 5 91 7.

EASTERN TRAVELLER’S 61st day will break at 11 at night. 76 9 91 7.

The men would now be together at the other side of the globe, and would see the sun rise at the same moment, but he who had travelled eastward would have seen a day and a night more than the other.

WESTERN TRAVELLER’S 106th day will break at 9, at night. 121 11. 136 1, morning. 151 3. 166 5. 181 7. 360 degrees.

EASTERN TRAVELLER’S 106th day will break at 5, P. M. 121 3. 136 1, noon. 151 11, A. M. 166 9. 181 7.

They will now be at the spot where they started from, the western traveller having seen two days and two nights less than the eastern.[516]

N. G. S.

[516] In this way, by hurrying the Jews round the globe at a given rate, their Sabbath might be made to fall upon the same day as the Christians’.

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~Old Customs.~

_For the Table Book._

HAGMENA.

The hagmena is an old custom observed in Yorkshire on new year’s eve. The keeper of the pinfold goes round the town, attended by a rabble at his heels, and knocking at certain doors, sings a barbarous song, according to the manner “of old king Henry’s days;” and at the end of every verse they shout “Hagman Heigh.”