Part 96
These lines refer to a singular coincidence respecting his wives; both their maiden names were Mary Thompson, and both were aged fifty-one at their death. In 1810, May 21, he married his third and surviving wife at St. Mary’s church, Nottingham; and, excepting a journey to Edinburgh, and another to London, they lived in various parts of the town till his decease. David’s forte lay principally in religious acrostics and hymns, for which he had a good demand among the pious inhabitants. The following is inserted as being a _short_ one:--
TO ANN SHORT,
_Who said, “I am short of every thing.”_
_A_ m short, O Lord, of praising thee, _N_ othing I can do right; _N_ eedy and naked, poor I be, _S_ hort, Lord, I am of sight: _H_ ow short I am of love and grace! _O_ f every thing I’m short: _R_ enew me, then I’ll follow peace _T_ hrough good and bad report.
In person David was below the middle stature; his features were not unhandsome for an old man; his walk was exceedingly slow, deliberately placing one foot before the other, in order perhaps to give his customers time to hear what he had got; his voice was clear, and strongly marked with the Scotch accent. He possessed a readiness of wit and repartee, which is often united with aspiring talents in lower life. A tribute to Love’s memory, written on the day of his burial, may not be unacceptable
ELEGY, WRITTEN IN ST MARY’S CHURCH YARD, NOTTINGHAM.
The sexton tolls the knell of David Love, The funeral train treads slowly thro’ the street, Old General,[307] wand in hand, with crape above, Conducts the pageant with demeanour meet.
Now stops the mournful train beside the grave, And all the air a solemn stillness holds; Save when the clerk repeats his twanging stave, And on the coffin fall the pattering moulds;
Save that from yonder grass-surrounded stone, The whining schoolboy loudly does complain Of such, as crowding round his mossy throne, Invade his tottering transitory reign.
Beneath those rugged stones, that corner’s shade, And trodden grass in rough mis-shapen heap, (Unless by Friday’s art away convey’d,[308]) In order due, what various bodies sleep.
The call of “coals,” the cry of sooty sweep, The twist machine[309] loud lumbering over head; The jacks’ shrill whirring,[310] oft disturbing sleep-- No more shall rouse them from their well-flock’d bed.
For them no more the Indian weed shall burn, Or bustling landlord fill his beverage rare; No shopmates hail their comrade’s wish’d return, Applaud his song, and in his chorus share.
Perhaps in this hard-beaten spot is laid Some head once vers’d in the mechanic powers, Hands that the bat at cricket oft have sway’d, Or won the cup for gooseberries and flowers.
Slow through the streets on tottering footsteps borne, Muttering his humble ditties he would rove, Singing “Goose Fair,” [311] or “Tread Mill” where forlorn Consign’d by Lincoln ’squires trod David Love.
One week I miss’d him from the market-place, Along the streets where he was wont to be; Strange voices came, but his I could not trace, Before the ’Change, nor by Sheep-lane was he.
And now with honour due, in sad array Slow through the church-yard paths we’ve seen him borne; Approach and hear (if thou wilt hear) the lay In which the bard’s departed worth we mourn.
EPITAPH.
Here rests his head upon the lap of earth, A minstrel old in Nottingham well known, In Caledonia was his humble birth, But England makes his aged bones her own.
Long were his verses, and his life was long, Wide, as a recompense, his fame was spread; He sold for halfpence (all he had) a song, He earn’d by them (’twas all he wish’d) his bread.
No farther I his merits can disclose, His widow dwells where David late abode; Go, buy his life, wrote by himself, which shows His service to his country, and his God.
~G.~
_Nottingham,_
_June 14, 1827._
[307] _Old General._ See _Every-Day Book_, vol. ii. col. 1570, for a memoir of this worthy.
[308] _Old Friday._ The nickname of the ex-deputy sexton of St. Mary’s parish, who was more than suspected of participating in resurrectioning. In Feb. 1827, a discovery was made of some bodies about to be removed to London; an examination ensued, when it was found that, for many months, the dissecting rooms of the metropolis were supplied wholesale from the various grounds of the parish; and for many days nothing was heard of but the opening of graves, which were discovered to be empty.
[309] Machines for making lace.
[310] Part of a stocking-frame, which makes a great noise in working.
[311] _Goose fair._ A great holiday fair at Nottingham, so called probably from its occurrence immediately after Michaelmas day, (viz. on October 2, 3, 4,) and the great quantity of geese slaughtered and eaten. One of David’s best songs is on this subject, but it is entirely local. Popular tradition, however, has assigned a far different origin to its name: a farmer who for some reason or other (whether grief for the loss of his wife, or her infidelity, or from mere curiosity, or dread of the fair sex, or some other reason equally unreasonable, according to various accounts) had brought up his three sons in total seclusion, during which they never saw woman. On their arriving at man’s estate, he brought them to the October fair, promising to buy each of them whatever he thought best. They gazed about them, asking the names of whatever they saw, when beholding some women walking, dressed in white, they demanded what they were; the farmer, somewhat alarmed at the eagerness of the question, replied, “Pho, those silly things are geese.” When, without waiting an instant, all three exclaimed, “Oh father, buy me a _goose_.”
* * * * *
THINGS WORTH REMEMBERING.
BE HONEST.
If you only endeavour to be honest, you are struggling with yourself.
A DEFINITION.
Truth is the conformity of expression to thought.
TAKE CARE.
Equivocation is a mean expedient to avoid the declaration of truth, without verbally telling a lie.
KEEP AN ACCOUNT.
Our debts and our sins are always greater than we think of.
THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS ILL LUCK.
It is true that some misfortunes are inevitable; but, in general, they proceed from our own want of judgment and foresight.
OUR ENJOYMENTS ARE CONDITIONAL.
If we had it in our power to gratify every wish, we should soon feel the effects of a surfeit.
OUR REAL WANTS ARE FEW.
The stomach tires of every thing but bread and water.
MODERATE YOUR DESIRES.
Take away your expensive follies, and you will have little occasion to complain of hard times.
MANY A LITTLE MAKES A MICKLE.
When a shopkeeper has company, he may have two candles; but when alone, one candle will be sufficient for common purposes. The saving will nearly find his wife in shoes.
AS THE TWIG IS BENT, THE TREE INCLINES.
If you give your children an improper education, their future misfortunes will lie at your door.
THERE ARE TRUE AND FALSE FACTS.
History should be read with caution. It often presents us with false and delusive pictures; and, by the gay colouring of the artist, excites our admiration of characters really odious.
* * * * *
~Discoveries~
OF THE
ANCIENTS AND MODERNS.
No. IV.
OF SENSIBLE QUALITIES.
The most eminent philosophers of antiquity, Democritus, Socrates, Aristippus the chief of the Cyrenaïc sect, Plato, Epicurus, and Lucretius, affirmed, that cold and heat, odours and colours, were no other than sensations excited in our minds, by the different operations of the bodies surrounding us, and acting on our senses; even Aristotle himself was of opinion, that “sensible qualities exist in the mind.” Yet when Descartes, and after him Mallebranche, taught the very same truths, they were ascribed to these moderns, owing to the outcry they made, as if the opposite error, which they attacked in the schoolmen, had been that of all ages; and nobody deigned to search whether, in reality, it was so or not. Were we to bring into review all that the ancients have taught on this subject, we should be surprised at the clearness with which they have explained themselves, and at a loss to account how opinions came to be taken for new, which had been illustrated in their writings with such force and precision.
Democritus was the first who disarrayed body of its sensible qualities. He affirmed, that “the first elements of things having in them naturally neither whiteness nor blackness, sweetness nor bitterness, heat nor cold, nor any other quality, it thence follows, that colour, for example, exists only in our imagination or perception of it; as also, that bitterness and sweetness, which exist only in being perceived, are the consequences of the different manner in which we ourselves are affected by the bodies surrounding us, there being nothing in its own nature yellow or white, or red, sweet or bitter.” He indicates what kind of atoms produce such and such sensations: round atoms, for example, the taste of sweetness; pointed and crooked, that of tartness; bodies composed of angular and coarse parts, introducing themselves with difficulty into the pores, cause the disagreeable sensations of bitterness and acidity, &c. The Newtonians imitate this reasoning everywhere, in explaining the different natures of bodies.
Sextus Empiricus, explaining the doctrine of Democritus, says, “that sensible qualities, according to that philosopher, have nothing of reality but in the opinion of those who are differently affected by them, according to the different dispositions of their organs; and that from this difference of disposition arise the perceptions of sweet and bitter, heat and cold; and also, that we do not deceive ourselves in affirming that we feel such impressions, but in concluding that exterior objects must have in them something analogous to our feelings.”
Protagoras, the disciple of Democritus, carried farther than ever Democritus did the consequences of his system; for admitting with his master the perpetual mutability of matter which occasioned a constant change in things, he thence concluded, that whatever we see, apprehend, or touch, is just as they appear; and that the only true rule or criterion of things, was in the perception men had of them. From Protagoras, bishop Berkeley seems to have derived his idea, “that there is nothing in external objects but what the sensible qualities existing in our minds induce us to imagine, and of course that they have no other manner of existence; there being no other substratum for them, than the minds by which they are perceived, not as modes or qualities belonging to themselves, but as objects of perception to whatever is percipient.”
We should think we were listening to the two modern philosophers, Descartes and Mallebranche, when we hear Aristippus, the disciple of Socrates, exhorting men “to be upon their guard with respect to the reports of sense, because it does not always yield just information; for we do not perceive exterior objects as they are in themselves, but only as they affect us. We know not of what colour or smell they may be, these being only affections in ourselves. It is not the objects themselves that we are enabled to comprehend, but are confined to judge of them only by the impressions they make upon us; and the wrong judgments we form of them in this respect is the cause of all our errors. Hence, when we perceive a tower which appears round, or an oar which seems crooked in the water, we may say that our senses intimate so and so, but ought not to affirm that the distant tower is really round, or the oar in the water crooked: it is enough, in such a case, to say with Aristippus and the Cyrenaïc sect, that we receive the impression of roundness from the tower, and of crookedness from the oar; but it is neither necessary nor properly in our power to affirm, that the tower is really round, or the oar broken; for a square tower may appear round at a distance, and a straight stick always seems crooked in the water.”[312]
Everybody talks of whiteness and sweetness, but they have no common faculty to which they can with certainty refer impressions of this kind. Every one judges by his own apprehensions, and nobody can affirm that the sensation which he feels when he sees a white object, is the same with what his neighbour experiences in regard to the same object. He who has large eyes will see objects in a different magnitude from him whose eyes are little, and he who hath blue eyes, discern them under different colours from him who hath grey; whence it comes, that we give common names to things, of which, however, we judge very variously.
Epicurus, admitting the principles of Democritus, thence deduces “that colour, cold, heat, and other sensible qualities are not inherent in the atoms, but the result of their assemblage; and that the difference between them flows from the diversity of their size, figure, and arrangement; insomuch, that any number of atoms in one disposition creates one sort of sensation; and in another, another: but their own primary nature remains always the same.”
The moderns have treated this matter with much penetration and sagacity, yet they have scarcely advanced any thing but what had been said before by the ancient philosophers just quoted, and by others who might be cited to the same effect.
[312] Peter Huet, the celebrated bishop of Avranches, in his “Essay on the Weakness of the Human Understanding,” argues to the same effect, and almost in the same words. ED.
* * * * *
_For the Table Book._
MR. EPHRAIM WAGSTAFF, HIS WIFE AND PIPE.
About the middle of Shoemaker-row, near to Broadway, Blackfriars, there resided for many years a substantial hardwareman, named Ephraim Wagstaff. He was short in stature, tolerably well favoured in countenance, and singularly neat and clean in his attire. Everybody in the neighbourhood looked upon him as a “warm” old man; and when he died, the property he left behind him did not bely the preconceived opinion. It was all personal, amounted to about nineteen thousand pounds; and, as he was childless, it went to distant relations, with the exception of a few hundred pounds bequeathed to public charities.
The family of Ephraim Wagstaff, both on the male and female sides, was respectable, though not opulent. His maternal grandfather, he used to say, formed part of the executive government in the reign of George I., whom he served as petty constable in one of the manufacturing districts during a long period. The love of office seems not to have been hereditary in the family; or perhaps the opportunities of gratifying it did not continue; for, with that single exception, none of his ancestors could boast of official honours. The origin of the name is doubtful. On a first view, it seems evidently the conjunction of two names brought together by marriage or fortune. In the “Tatler” we read about the _staff_ in a variety of combinations, under one of which the popular author of that work chose to designate himself, and thereby conferred immortality on the name of Bickerstaff. Our friend Ephraim was no great wit, but he loved a joke, particularly if he made it himself; and he used to say, whenever he heard any one endeavouring to account for his name, that he believed it originated in the marriage of a Miss Staff to some Wag who lived near her; and who, willing to show his gallantry, and at the same time his knowledge of French customs, adopted the fashion of that sprightly people, by adding her family name to his own. The conjecture is at least probable, and so we must leave it.
At the age of fifty-two it pleased heaven to deprive Mr. Wagstaff of his beloved spouse Barbara. The bereavement formed an era in his history. Mrs. Wagstaff was an active, strong woman, about ten years older than himself, and one sure to be missed in any circle wherein she had once moved. She was indeed no cipher. Her person was tall and bony, her face, in hue, something between brown and red, had the appearance of having been scorched. Altogether her qualities were truly commanding. She loved her own way exceedingly; was continually on the alert to have it; and, in truth, generally succeeded. Yet such was her love of justice, that she has been heard to aver repeatedly, that she never (she spoke the word _never_ emphatically) opposed her husband, but when he was decidedly in the wrong. Of these occasions, it must also be mentioned, she generously took upon herself the trouble and responsibility of being the sole judge. There was one point, however, on which it would seem that Mr. Wagstaff had contrived to please himself exclusively; although, how he had managed to resist so effectually the remonstrances and opposition which, from the structure of his wife’s mind he must necessarily have been doomed to encounter, must ever remain a secret. The fact was this: Ephraim had a peculiarly strong attachment to a pipe; his affection for his amiable partner scarcely exceeding that which he entertained for that lively emblem of so many sage contrivances and florid speeches, ending like it--in smoke. In the times of his former wives (for twice before had he been yoked in matrimony) he had indulged himself with it unmolested. Not so with Mrs. Wagstaff the third. Pipes and smoking she held in unmitigated abhorrence: but having, by whatever means, been obliged to submit to their introduction, she wisely avoided all direct attempts to abate what she called among her friends “the nuisance;” and, like a skilful general, who has failed of securing victory, she had recourse to such stratagems as might render it as little productive as possible to the enemy. Ephraim, aware how matters stood, neglected no precaution to guard against his wife’s manœuvres--meeting, of course, with various success. Many a time did her ingenuity contrive an accident, by which his pipe and peace of mind were at once demolished; and, although there never could be any difficulty in replacing the former by simply sending out for that purpose, yet he has confessed, that when he contemplated the possibility of offering too strong an excitement to the shrill tones of his beloved’s voice, (the only pipe she willingly tolerated,) he waved that proceeding, and submitted to the sacrifice as much the lesser evil. At length Mrs. Wagstaff was taken ill, an inflammation on her lungs was found to be her malady, and that crisis appeared to be fast approaching, when
The doctor leaves the house with sorrow, Despairing of his fee to-morrow.
The foreboding soon proved correct; and, every thing considered, perhaps it ought not to excite much surprise, that when Ephraim heard from the physician that there was little or no chance of her recovery, he betrayed no symptoms of excessive emotion, but mumbling something unintelligibly, in which the doctor thought he caught the sound of the words “Christian duty of resignation,” he quietly filled an additional pipe that evening. The next day Mrs. Wagstaff expired, and in due time her interment took place in the church-yard of St. Ann, Blackfriars, every thing connected therewith being conducted with the decorum becoming so melancholy an event, and which might be expected from a man of Mr. Wagstaff’s gravity and experience. The funeral was a walking one from the near vicinity to the ground; and but for an untimely slanting shower of rain, no particular inconvenience would have been felt by those who were assembled on that occasion; that casualty, however, caused them to be thoroughly drenched; and, in reference to their appearance, it was feelingly observed by some of the bystanders, that they had seldom seen so many tears on the faces of mourners.--
_To be continued_--(perhaps.)
NEMO.
* * * * *
AN ULTRA-MARINER.
According to father Feyjoo, in the month of June, 1674, some young men were walking by the sea-side in Bilboa, and one of them, named Francis de la Vega, of about fifteen years of age, suddenly leaped into the sea, and disappeared presently. His companions, after waiting some time, and he not returning, made the event public, and sent an account of it to De la Vega’s mother, at Lierganès, a small town in the archbishopric of Burgos. At first she discredited his death, but his absence occasioned her fond doubts to vanish, and she mourned his untimely loss.
About five years afterwards some fishermen, in the environs of Cadiz, perceived the figure of a man sometimes swimming, and sometimes plunging under the water. On the next day they saw the same, and mentioned it as a very singular circumstance to several people. They threw their nets, and baiting the swimmer with some pieces of bread, they at length caught the object of their attention, which to their astonishment they found to be a well-formed man. They put several questions to him in various languages, but he answered none. They then took him to the convent of St. Francis, where he was exorcised, thinking he might be possessed by some evil spirit. The exorcism was as useless as the questions. At length, after some days, he pronounced the word Lierganès. It happened that a person belonging to that town was present when he uttered the name, as was also the secretary of the Inquisition, who wrote to his correspondent at Lierganès, relating the particulars, and instituting inquiries relative to this very extraordinary man; and he received an account of the young man who had disappeared in the manner before related.
On this information, it was determined that the marine man should be sent to Lierganès; and a Franciscan friar, who was obliged to go there on other business, undertook to conduct him the following year. When they came within a quarter of a league of the town, the friar ordered the young man to go before and show him the way. He made no answer, but led the friar to the widow De la Vega’s house. She recollected him instantly, and embracing him, cried out, “This is my son, that I lost at Bilboa!” Two of his brothers who were present also knew him immediately, and embraced him with equal tenderness. He, however, did not evince the least sensibility, or the smallest degree of surprise. He spoke no more at Lierganès than at Cadiz, nor could any thing be obtained from him relative to his adventure. He had entirely forgotten his native language, except the words _pan_, _vino_, _tabaco_, “bread, wine, tobacco;” and these he uttered indiscriminately and without application. They asked him if he would have either of these articles; he could make no reply.
For several days together he would eat large quantities of bread, and for as many days following he would not take the least food of any kind. If he was directed to do any thing, he would execute the commission very properly, but without speaking a word: he would carry a letter to where it was addressed, and bring an answer back in writing. He was sent one day with a letter to St. Ander; to get there it was necessary to cross the river at Padrenna, which is more than a league wide in that spot; not finding a boat in which he could cross it, he threw himself in, swam over, and delivered the letter as directed.
At this time Francis de la Vega was nearly six feet in height, and well formed, with a fair skin, and red hair as short as a new-born infant’s. He always went bare-footed, and had scarcely any nails either on his hands or feet. He never dressed himself but when he was told to do it. The same with eating; what was offered to him he accepted, but he never asked for food.