GIVING
A Particular Account of his Birth, Parentage, with the many Wonderful Things he did in his Lifetime, to the amazement of all the World.
Friar Bacon's Birth and Parentage, and by what means he came to be so great a Scholar. How the King sent for him from Oxford, and in what wonderful manner he pleased the King's Five Senses; also the Comical Pranks he played with a Courtier sent to fetch him.
The famous Friar Bacon, whose name has spread through the world, was born in Lancashire; his father's name was Ralph Bacon, and his name Roger. From his infancyhe was observed to have a profound, pregnant wit; as he grew up, a great reader of books and desirous of learning, which to admiration he took so fast that his schoolmaster could teach him no further, and being about to send him home, with commendations, to his father, he, fearing the worst, humbly besought him to prevail, if possible, with his father that he might be sent to the University, where he had a desire to go and learn the liberal sciences.
His schoolmaster denied him not his request, but went home with him, and, taking the old man aside, told him he had learned his son as far as he was able, that he took it in extremely well, and was willing to improve it at the University, and that he was verily persuaded, by the promptness he perceived in him, if he would be at a little charge with him there, he would be so great a proficient as would advance him to an eminent station.
The old man heard this with some indignation, but concealed his anger till the schoolmaster was gone, and then, taking his son to task, said, "How now, sirrah! have not I been at cost enough already, but are you itching to put me to more? Methinks I have given you such learning as to enable you, in time, to be a constable or churchwarden of the parish, and far outdo those in the office that can neither read nor write; let that suffice. As for the rest of your business for the future, it is to learn horse language and whistle well, that you may be dexterous at driving the plough and cart and managing the sheep and oxen; for, sirrah," continued he, "have I anybody else to leave my farm to but you, and yet you take upon you, forsooth, to be a scholard, and consequently a gentleman; for they all profess themselves so, though never so beggarly, living lazily, and eating up the fat of other men's labours, marry gaup! Goodman Twoshoes, your great-grandfather, your grandfather, and I, have thought it no scorn to dig and delve; and pray what better are you than us? Here,sirrah, take this whip and go with me to plough, or I'll so lace your fine scholarship that you had better this had never been mentioned to me."
Young Bacon was much displeased and highly grieved, but durst not reply, knowing his father to be a very hasty, choleric old man; however, this sort of living so little agreed with his sprightly genius that in a short time he gave him the slip, and going to a monastery, making his desires known to the superior, he kindly entertained him, and made him a brother of the Augustin Friars. There he profited so much that in a few years he was sent to Oxford to study at their charge, where he soon grew such a proficient that his fame soon spread, not only in the University, but also over all England, and came to the ears of King Edward the Third, who then reigned; and he, taking a progress with his queen and nobles, was desirous to see him, and have an experiment of his art; so that, being at a nobleman's house within four miles of the city of Oxford, he sent a gentleman of his bedchamber to desire him to come to him. The knight delayed not the message, and, finding him at his study, did his errand. The friar told him he would be with his majesty, and bid him make haste or he should be there before him. At this he smiled, being well mounted, saying scholars and travellers might lie by authority. "Well," said Friar Bacon, "to convince you, I will not only be there before you, ride as fast as you can, but I will there show you the cook-maid you lay with last, though she is now busy dressing the dinner at Sir William Belton's, a hundred miles distance from this place." "Well," said the gentleman of the bedchamber, "I doubt not but one will be as true as the other;" so, mounting, rode laughing away, and thinking to be at the king's quarters in a short space, he spurred his horse valiantly; but suddenly a mist arose, that he knew not which way to go, and, missing the way, he turned down a bye-lane androde over hedge and ditch, backwards and forwards, till the charm was dissolved.
When the friar came into the king's presence he did him obeisance, and was kindly welcomed by him. Then said the king, "Worthy Bacon, having heard much of your fame, the cause of my sending for you was to be a spectator of some fine curiosities in your art." The friar excused at first; but the king pressing it, promised on his royal word no harm should come to him, he bid all keep silence, and, waving his magic wand, there presently to their great amazement, ensued the most melodious music they had ever heard, which continued very ravishing for nearly half an hour. Then, waving his wand, another kind of music was heard, and presently dancers in antic shapes at a masquerade entered the room, and having danced incomparably well, they vanished. Waving his wand the third time, louder music was heard, and whilst that played, a table was placed by an invisible hand, richly spread with all the dainties that could be thought of. Then he desired the king and queen to draw their seats near, and partake of the repast he had prepared for their highnesses: which, after they had done, all vanished. He waved the fourth time, and thereupon the place was perfumed with all the sweets of Arabia, or that the whole world could produce. Then waving the fifth time, there came in Russians, Persians, and Polanders, dressed in the finest soft fur, silks, and downs of rare fowls, that are to be found in the universe, which he bid them feel, and then the strangers, having danced after their own country fashion, vanished.
In this sort Friar Bacon pleased their five senses, to their admiration and high satisfaction; so that the king offered him money, but he refused it, saying he could not take it. However, the king pressed on him a jewel of great value, commanding him to wear it as a mark of his favour. Whilst this was doing, the gentleman of the bedchambercame in, puffing and blowing, all bemired and dirty, and his face and hands scratched with the bushes and briars. The king, at this sight, demanded why he stayed so long, and how he came in that condition? "Oh, plague," said he, "take Friar Bacon and all his devils! they have led me a fine dance, to the endangering of my neck. But is the dog here? I'll be revenged on him!" Then he laid his hand on his sword, but Bacon, waving his wand, charmed it in his scabbard, so he could not draw it out, saying, "I fear not your anger; 'tis best for you to be quiet, lest a worse thing befall you." Then he told the king how he gave him the lie, when he told him he would be there before him.
Whilst he was thus speaking, in came the cook-maid, brought by a spirit, at the window, with a spit and a roasted shoulder of mutton on it, being thus surprised as she was taking it from the fire; and wishfully staring about her, and espying the gentleman, she cried, "O my sweet knight, are you here? Pray, sir, remember you promised to provide linen and other necessaries for me. Our secret sins have grown, and I've two months to reckon," and hereupon she ran towards him to embrace him; but he turning aside, she was carried out at another window to her master's house again.
This was the cause of both amazement and laughter, though the gentleman was much ashamed and confounded to be thus exposed, still muttering revenge; but Friar Bacon told him his best way was to put up all, since he had verified all his promises, and bid him have a care how he gave a scholar the lie again.
The king and queen, well pleased with the entertainment, highly commending his art, and promising him their favour and protection, took their leave of the friar, returning to London, and he to his study at Brazen Nose College.
How Friar Bacon put a Comical Trick upon his man Miles, who, pretending Abstinence on a Fast Day, concealed Victuals in his Pocket to eat in a Corner.
Friar Bacon kept a man to wait on him who, though but a simple fellow, yet a merry droll and full of waggeries. His name was Miles, and though his master and those of the order often fasted on set days, Miles loved his guts too well to pinch them, and though outwardly he seemed to fast for compliance, he always kept a private reserve to eat in a corner, which Bacon knew by art, and resolved to put a trick upon him. It so happened on Good Friday, in Lent, a strict fast was held, and Miles seemed very devout; for when his master bid him, however, take a bit of bread and a sip of wine early in the morning to keep him from fainting, he refused it, saying he was a great sinner, and therefore ought to do more than this for his mortification, and to gain absolution, making a great many pretences of sanctity, and how well he was inclined to keep the holy fast. "'Tis well," said the friar, "if I catch you not tripping." Hereupon Miles went to his cell, pretending to pray, but indeed to eat a fine pudding he had concealed: which he had no sooner put into his mouth at one end, but it stuck there; he could neither eat it nor get it out. The use of his hands failed, and he was taken with a shivering all over, so that, thinking he should have died presently, he cried piteously out for help; whereupon Friar Bacon, calling the scholars together, went in to see what was the matter, and perceiving him in that plight said, smiling, "Now I see what a penitent servant I have, who was so conscientious he would not touch a bit of bread, but would willingly have devoured two pounds of pudding to have broke his fast." He piteously entreated him to dissolve the charm and deliver him, and he would never do so again. "Nay," said the friar, "you shall do penance for this;" so, taking holdof the end of the pudding, he led him out to the scholars, saying, "See, here's a queasy-stomached fellow, that would not touch a bit of bread to-day!" When they saw him in this plight, they all fell heartily a-laughing; but Friar Bacon, not so contented, led him to the college gate, and by enchantment fixing the end of the pudding to the bar, he was made so fast to it as if it had been by a cable rope, and on his back were placed these lines:—
"This is Friar Bacon's man, who vow'd to fast,But, dissembling, thus it took at last;The pudding more religion had than he;Though he would eat it, it will not down, you see.Then of hypocrisy pray all beware,Lest like disgrace be each dissembler's share.
"This is Friar Bacon's man, who vow'd to fast,But, dissembling, thus it took at last;The pudding more religion had than he;Though he would eat it, it will not down, you see.Then of hypocrisy pray all beware,Lest like disgrace be each dissembler's share.
Miles all the while was jeered and sported with by all the scholars and town's people, but, after four hour's penance, his master dissolved the charm, and released him, and he ever after kept the fasts, not so much out of religion as for fear that a worse trick should be put upon him.
How Friar Bacon saved a Gentleman who had sold himself to the Devil for Money, and put a Trick upon the Old Deceiver of Mankind.
When Friar Bacon flourished at Oxford, a young gentleman, by his prodigality, having run out his estate and involved himself in debt, grew exceeding pensive and melancholy, purposing to make himself away, in order to put an end to his miseries and the scorns that were put daily upon him by his former companions, being also utterly cast off by his friends; so, walking by a wood side, full of sorrow, he met, as he thought, an old man in good clothing, who saluted him and demanded the cause of his melancholy, and why he walked so solitary. At first he refused to tell him, as thinking he could do him no good; but the other urging it, promisedto assist him if he wanted anything. He said, "I am in want. I want fine clothes, as I used to have; I want money to buy food, pay debts, redeem my mortgaged land, and many things more. Can you help me to enough to do it?" "I can," said the old man, "on one condition." "What's that?" said the gentleman. "If it be anything tolerable I shall not refuse it, for I cannot be well worse or in greater hardship than I am now." "Why," said the other, "the matter is not so much; you shall only oblige yourself when I have furnished you with money to do all you have named and you have paid every one you owe a farthing to, to become obedient to me, and be disposed of at my pleasure." Now the young man, taking him for a usurer, and very rich, supposed this obligation was only a fetch to marry his daughter or some kinswoman of his, which he could be well contented to do, not doubting to have a good portion, and therefore scrupled not to do as he desired. Upon this he bid him meet him the next morning, about the same time, when he would have the writing ready; and on signing he should have the money. So they parted, and the gentleman delayed not coming, without asking advice, and was as punctually met; but when he saw the writing in blood he was startled a little, but the old man told him it was only a whim of his own to have it so written to distinguish it from other men's, and put his debtors more in mind to repay the money he lent them. Upon this speech, and the gentleman's seeing store of gold and silver brought by three or four of whom he supposed to be servants, he believed it. "But how," said he, "shall I write with the same?" "Oh," said he, "let me see. I'll prick your right vein," which he did, whilst the gentleman found an unusual trembling and an inward remorse in his mind. However, taking the bloody pen in his hand, he desperately subscribed and sealed the writing. Then, telling the money into a cloak bag, he laid it on his horse,and they, with much ceremony, took leave of each other. The gentleman laughed in his sleeve to think how he would find him out, seeing he had not asked, nor himself told him, where he lived.
Soon after he summoned all his creditors, paid them to a farthing, redeemed his land, went gallant, and recovered his esteem in the world; but one evening as he was looking over his writings in his closet, he heard somebody rap at the door, when, opening it, he saw the party he had borrowed the money of, with the writing in his hand, who told him he was now come to demand him, and he must now go along with him; for to his knowledge he had paid his debts, and done whatever was agreed to. The gentleman, wondering how he should know this so soon, denied it. "Nay," replied he, fiercely, "deny it not, for I'll not be cheated of my bargain," and thereupon changed into a horrible shape, struck him almost dead with fear, for now he perceived it was the devil. Then he told him if he did not meet on the morrow, in the same place he had lent him the money, he would come the next day and tear him to pieces. "And," says he, "if I prove not what I say, you shall be quiet"; and so vanished out of the window in a flash of flame, with horrible bellowings. The gentleman, seeing himself in this case, began to weep bitterly, and wished he had been contented in his sad condition, rather than have taken such a desperate way to enrich himself, and was almost at his wits' end.
Friar Bacon, knowing by his art what had passed, came to comfort him, and having heard the whole story, bid him not despair, but pray and repent of his sins, and he would contrive to show the devil a trick that should release him from his obligation. This greatly comforted the gentleman, and he promised to do whatever the friar should order him. "Then," says he, "meet at the time appointed, and I will be near. Offer to put the decision of the controversyto the next that comes by, and that shall be myself, and I will find a way infallibly to give it on your side." Accordingly he met, and the devil consented to put it to arbitration. Then Friar Bacon appearing, "Lo," said the gentleman, "here's a proper judge. This learned friar shall determine it, and if it goes against me, you have free liberty to do with me as you please." "Content," said the devil. Then each of them told their story, and the writing was produced, with all the acquittances he had taken; for the devil, contrary to his knowledge, had stolen them and the other writings belonging to his estate out of his closet. The friar, weighing well the matter, asked the gentleman whether he had paid the devil any of the money he borrowed of him. "No," replied he, "not one farthing." "Why then," said he, "Mr. Devil, his debts are not discharged; you are his principal creditor, and, according to this writing, can lay no claim to him till every one of his debts are discharged." "How! how!" replied the devil, "am I outwitted then? O friar, thou art a crafty knave!" and thereupon vanished in a flame, raising a mighty tempest of thunder, lightning, and rain; so that they were wet through before they could get shelter. Then Bacon charged him he should never pay the devil a farthing of his debt, whatever shape he came in, or artifice he used to wheedle him out of it, and then he could have no power over him. The gentleman on this, living a temperate frugal life, grew very rich, and leaving no children at his death, bequeathed his estate to Brazen Nose College, because Friar Bacon, a member of it, had delivered him from so great a danger of body and soul.
How Friar Bacon framed a Brazen Head which, by Enchantment, was to Speak; by that means all England had been walled with Brass, if the Folly of his man Miles, who was set to watch the Head, had not disappointed it, not timely calling his Master to answer it, for which he was struck Dumb many Days.
Friar Bacon, being now a profound proficient in the art of magic and many other sciences, contrived, with one Friar Bungey, who was his pupil, to do something memorable for the good of his country, and many things they cast in their minds. At last they remembered that England had often been harassed and invaded by the Romans, Saxons, Danes, Normans, and other nations at sundry times, to the great effusion of blood, and often alteration of the constitution of governments; and if anything might be contrived to prevent the like for the future, they should thereby raise a lasting monument to their names.
Bacon, upon this, concluded to frame a head of brass, and if, by their art, they could cause it to speak, and answer their demands, they required that all the sea-girt shores of England and Wales should be walled with brass, and brazen towers be raised on the frontiers of Scotland, to hinder the incursions and rovings of the hardy Scots.
They laboured to do this by art, but could not; so they conjured up a spirit, to inquire of the infernal council whether it might be done or not. The spirit, however, was unwilling to answer, till Friar Bacon threatened with his charms to bind him in chains in the Red Sea or to a burning rock, and make him the sport of wrecking whirlwinds.
Terrified by this means, he said of himself he could give no answer, but must inquire of his lord, Lucifer. They granted him two days for an answer. Accordingly he returned this:—"If they for two months would carefullywatch the head, it should in that time speak, but the certain time should not be known to them, and then, if they did hear it, they should be answered."
At this they much rejoiced, and watched by turns very carefully for six weeks, and no voice was uttered. At length, tired out, and broken for want of their natural rest, they concluded some other might watch as well as they, till they refreshed themselves in repose, and call them when the head began to speak, which would be time enough; and because this was a secret they did not care for having it known till they saw what they should make of it. Bacon thereupon proposed his man Miles, and Bungey approved of it; so they called Miles, told him the nature of the brazen head and what was intended, by giving him a strict charge on his life, to awake them as soon as ever he heard it speak.
"For that, master," said he, "let me alone. I warrant you I'll do your business effectually, never fear it." So he got him a long sword by his side, and a tabor and pipe to play, and keep him awake if any drowsiness or the like should overtake him.
The charge being given, and he thus accoutred, the two friars went to rest in the next apartment. Miles then began to pipe and sing songs of his sweethearts and frolics:—
"Bessy, that is so frolic and gay,Like a cat she loves with her tail to play;Though sometimes she'll pant and frown,All's well when her anger goes down."She'll never say nay, but sport and play;O, Bessy to me is the queen of the May;For Margery she is peevish and proud;Come, fiddlers, then, and scrape the crowd."
"Bessy, that is so frolic and gay,Like a cat she loves with her tail to play;Though sometimes she'll pant and frown,All's well when her anger goes down.
"She'll never say nay, but sport and play;O, Bessy to me is the queen of the May;For Margery she is peevish and proud;Come, fiddlers, then, and scrape the crowd."
Whilst his merriment passed, after a hoarse noise, likethunder almost spent, the head spoke distinctly, "Time Is." "Oh ho!" says Miles, "is this all the news you can tell me? Well, copper nose, has my master taken all this pains about you, and you can speak no wiser? Dost thou think I am such a fool to break his sweet slum for this? No, speak wiser, or he shall sleep on. Time is, quotha! Why, I know time is, and that thou shalt hear, goodman kettle jaws.
"Time is for some to gain,Time is for some to lose;Time is for some to hand,But then they cannot choose.Time is to go a score,Time is when one should pay:Time is to reckon, too,But few care for that day.Time is to graft the bornUpon another's head;Time is to make maids' hearts swell,Oh, then 'tis time they're wed.
"Time is for some to gain,Time is for some to lose;Time is for some to hand,But then they cannot choose.
Time is to go a score,Time is when one should pay:Time is to reckon, too,But few care for that day.
Time is to graft the bornUpon another's head;Time is to make maids' hearts swell,Oh, then 'tis time they're wed.
"Hear'st thou this, goodman copper nose? We scholars know when time is, without thy babbling. We know when time is to drink good sack, eat well, kiss our hostesses, and run on the score. But when time is to pay them is indeed but seldom."
While thus he merrily discoursed, about half an hour after the same noise began as before, and the head said, "TIME WAS." "Well," said Miles, "this blockish head is the foolishest thing my wise master ever troubled himself about. How would he have laughed, had he been here, to hear it prat so simply! Therefore, thou brazen-faced ass, speak wiser, or I shall never trouble my head to awake him. Time was, quotha! thou ass thou! I know that, and sothou shalt hear, for I find my master has watched and tutored thee to a fine purpose.
"Time was when thou, a kettle,Was wont to hold good matter;But Friar Bacon did thee spoilWhen he thy sides did batter.Time was when conscience dweltWith men of each vocation;Time was when lawyers did not thriveSo well by men's vexations.Time was when charityWas not denied a being;Time was when office kept no knaves;That time was worth the seeing.
"Time was when thou, a kettle,Was wont to hold good matter;But Friar Bacon did thee spoilWhen he thy sides did batter.
Time was when conscience dweltWith men of each vocation;Time was when lawyers did not thriveSo well by men's vexations.
Time was when charityWas not denied a being;Time was when office kept no knaves;That time was worth the seeing.
"Ay, ay, and time was for many other things. But what of that, goodman brazen face? I see my master has placed me here on a very foolish account. I think I'd as good go to sleep, too, as to stay watching here to no purpose." Whilst he thus scoffed and taunted, the head spoke a third time, and said, "Time is past!" and so, with a horrid noise, fell down and broke to pieces. Whereupon ensued lamentable shrieks and cries, flashes of fire, and a rattling as of thunder, which awaking the two friars, they came running in, in great disorder found Miles rolling on the floor, in a stinking pickle, almost dead with fear, and the head lying shattered about the room in a thousand pieces. Then, having brought him to his senses again, they demanded how this came. "Nay, the devil knows better than I," said Miles, "I believe he was in this plaguy head: for when it fell, it gave a bounce like a cannon." "Wretch that thou art!" said Bacon, "trifle not with my impatience. Didst thou hear it speak, varlet! answer me that."
"Why, truly," said Miles, "it did speak, but very simply,considering you have been so long a-tutoring it. I protest I could have taught a jackdaw to have spoke better in two days. It said, 'Time is.'" "Oh, villain!" says Bacon, "had'st thou called me then, all England had been walled with brass, to my immortal fame." "Then," continued Miles, "about half an hour after, it said, 'Time was.'" "O, wretch! how my anger burns against thee. Had you but called me then, it might have done what I desired." "Then," said he, "it said, 'Time's past'; and so fell down with the horrid noise that waked you and made me, I am sure, befoul my breeches; and since here's so much to do about time, I think it's time for me to retire and clean myself." "Well, villain," says Bacon, "thou has lost all our cost and pains by thy foolish negligence." "Why," said Miles, "I thought it would not have stopped when it once began, but would have gone on and told me some pleasant story, or have commanded me to have called you, and I should have done it; but I see the devil is a cunning sophister, and all hell would not allow him tinkers and brass enough to do the work, and therefore has put this trick upon us to get oft from his promise." "How, slave," said the friar, "art thou at buffoonery, now thou hast done me this great injury? Sirrah! because you think the head spake not enough to induce you to call us, you shall speak less in two months' space," and with that, by enchantment, he struck him dumb to the end of that time, and would have done worse had not Bungey had compassion on the fellow's simplicity and persuaded him from it.
And thus ends the history of that famous Friar Bacon, who had done a deed which would have made his fame ring through all ages yet to come, had it not been for the simplicity of his man Miles.
His Birth and Parentage; how he went to the Wars and Lost his Sight, and turned Beggar at Bethnal Green; how he got Riches, and educated his Daughter; of her being Courted by a rich, young Knight; how the Blind Beggar dropt Gold with the Knight's Uncle; of the Knight and the Beggar's Daughter being Married; and, lastly, how the famous Pedigree of the Beggar was discovered, with other Things worthy of Note.
His Birth and Parentage; how he went to the Wars and Lost his Sight, and turned Beggar at Bethnal Green; how he got Riches, and educated his Daughter; of her being Courted by a rich, young Knight; how the Blind Beggar dropt Gold with the Knight's Uncle; of the Knight and the Beggar's Daughter being Married; and, lastly, how the famous Pedigree of the Beggar was discovered, with other Things worthy of Note.
How Monford went to the Wars of France, where he lost his Sight; how he was accompanied with his Wife, who preserved his Life, and of his Return to England, etc.
In former days, when the rose of England eclipsed the lilies of France, and true English valour made that nation stoop, among other brave gallants that went over to try their fortune, Monford was one, a person well descended, who, being naturally inclined to war and greedy of fame, neither the entreaty of friends nor the marriage he had contracted with a kind, beautiful woman, could alter his purpose; but taking his wife Margaret with him, he, with many hundreds more, crossed the seas, and with the help of a prosperous wind, arriving at Calais, marched to the royalstandard, accompanied with his loving wife, who, in manlike attire, became his inseparable companion, and was the cause of saving his life; for many skirmishes happened between the English and French, wherein young Monford behaved himself with wondrous courage; and in one, following too hot the pursuit, was, with divers others, entrapped into ambush, late in the evening; and though he manfully disputed it, making great slaughter of the enemy, yet in spite of resistance he was beaten from his horse by a forcible stroke, and left in the field for dead among the dying men; where he had undoubtedly perished through loss of blood, and the anguish of his wounds, had not his tender-hearted love, upon hearing what had happened and his not returning, hasted to the field, where, among the slain, she by moonlight discovered him, stripped and struggling for life, and by the help of a servant brought him to a shepherd's cottage, where she carefully dressed his wounds and administered such cordials as brought him to himself, to her unspeakable joy; though this joy was something abated when she found he had lost his sight, but true love working in her heart, the alteration or disfigurement of his countenance did not alter her affection; but comforting him in the best manner she could, though his natural courage would not admit of any dejection, she procured him a homely suit of apparel, and brought him (unfit for service) back to England, of whose entertainment and settlement at Bethnal Green, in the county of Middlesex, and course of life, you shall hear in the following chapter.
How Monford arrived in England and of the Cold Entertainment he found among his relations. How he settled in Bethnal Green, where he continued to beg for his Living.
Monford, having escaped a dreadful storm at sea, landed with his wife on the coast of Essex, where he had someconsiderable relations, to whom, in his necessity, they applied themselves for succour; but they, who, after the death of his parents, had wasted much of his patrimony, or fearing he might be chargeable to them, would not know him, and those that were convinced he was the same Monford that went over to France gave him but cold entertainment; insomuch that, scorning to rely upon their charity, he told his wife that he intended, early in the morning, to haste towards London, and that he would rather trust to Providence than the ingratitude of those who, in his prosperous days, had caressed him. His wife declared she would labour at her spinning-wheel or do what she was capable for a living. In two days travelling they spent what little money they had saved, so necessity obliged them to ask charity of the people as he passed through the country towns and villages; who, understanding that he came by his misfortune in fighting for the honour of his country, gave liberally to him; and considering that the loss of his sight had rendered him incapable of business, he resolved to embrace what providence had cast in his way, which was to live upon charity. Whereupon, arriving at Bethnal Green, near London, he hired a small cottage for his wife and himself, and daily appearing publicly to crave alms, was from thence called "The Beggar of Bethnal Green," and in a short time found it a thriving trade, insomuch that his bed of straw was changed into down, and his earthen platters and other utensils into a better sort of decent furniture.
How Monford happened to meet with Snap, an old, experienced Beggar, who gave him an Insight into the Mystery of the Canting Tribe; and how he invited him to the Rendezvous.
Monford resolving in this kind of way to spend the remainder of his days, being very well contented with histrade, having played it with great success in the place where he lived, one day he was encountered by an old proficient in the art of begging, who, seeing him very diligent, did greatly covet his acquaintance, and to know what gang he did belong to. He therefore accosts him in their canting method, which is a sort of speech or rather a gibberish peculiar to themselves. Monford, being ignorant, could make him no direct answer, which the other, whose name was Snap, perceiving, and thereby knowing him to be a young beginner, invited him to their feasts or rendezvous in Whitechapel, whither he having promised to come, and they between them tripped off four black pots of rum, they parted that time.
How Monford went to the Beggars' Feast, and of his Entertainment, and also the Presents they made.
Monford, upon his coming home, declared to his wife what a merry companion he met with, and what discourse he had, and likewise what he had promised, entreating her to get things in readiness, that she might conduct him thither, where appeared, instead of a ragged regiment of lame, blind, and dumb, there was a rout of jovial dancers, as gay as the spring, and as merry as the maids; which made them imagine they were mistaken in the place or was imposed upon, and therefore turned to go away, had not Snap started from his chair, where he sat as supervisor, in all his gallantry, and taking him by the hand, let him know who it was introduced him into the assembly, where he was received as brother of their society, every member saluting him with a compliment, and, that he might not want a guide for the future, Snap, in the name of the society, presented him with a dog and a bell trained to the business. So his wife and he, being splendidly entertained, were dismissed, upon his promise that he would not be absent at their yearly meeting.
What Success he had in the Begging Trade. How his Wife was brought to Bed of a Daughter, and Christened by the Name of Elizabeth.
The blind beggar soon became master of his trade, and, by the help of his dog, trudged often to London, and having the perfect tone, had the luck to return with his pockets well lined with chink. His way of begging became so pleasing to him that he would often sing as follows—
A beggar lives a merry life,And has both wealth and ease;His days are free from care and strife,He does whate'er he please.While others labour, sweat, and toil,His tongue does get him pelf;He travels with his dog and bell,And brings home store of wealth.
A beggar lives a merry life,And has both wealth and ease;His days are free from care and strife,He does whate'er he please.
While others labour, sweat, and toil,His tongue does get him pelf;He travels with his dog and bell,And brings home store of wealth.
He being by this time in a warm condition, to add further to his joy, his loving wife fell in labour, and was delivered of a daughter, whose birth made him think he was the happiest man alive, and hundred times he kissed her and dandled her in his arms, whom he christened by the name of Elizabeth, and as she increased in years, so her beauty and modesty caused her to be called "Pretty Betty." Some began to dote upon her admirable perfections, and the better to qualify her gave her such learning as was suitable to her degree, which she improved; so that her beauty and wit, her skill in singing, dancing, and playing on instruments of music, procured her the envy of the young maidens thereabouts, who supposed themselves much superior in birth and fortune, would often reflect upon her birth, and call her a beggar's brat. She bore all their ill language without returning it, and endeavoured to win them to herby gentle persuasions; but not prevailing, and her patience spent, she said, "I never injured any of you, but have strove to do you all the good offices which I was capable of doing; why, then, do you envy and abuse me? What if my parents are in a mean station, yet they pay for my education of dancing and singing which they bestow upon me, and though, perhaps, I am not so well descended as some of you, though you may be mistaken, yet Heaven might have made your case the same had it thought fit." Yet, finding that they did not cease to rail at her, and being by this time about fifteen years of age, she prevailed with her parents to grant her leave to seek her fortune.
How handsome Betty took Leave of her Parents, and the Entertainment she met with.
Now the time of Betty's departure being come, her parents furnished her with clothes and other necessaries, whereupon she fell upon her knees and craved their blessing, which being given, with many prayers for her prosperity, they took a sad farewell.
Pretty Betty, having now left her father's house, or rather smoke-loft, went pensive along the road towards Stradford, relying only on Providence to direct her. Having walked all night, at sunrise she came to Rumford, in Essex and being ready to faint, betook herself to an inn, and called for something to refresh her. The mistress of the house, taking notice of her garb, beautiful face, and modest behaviour, though dejected, began to ask her from whence she came, and whither she was bound. Betty replied, "I am going to seek my fortune. I am very well educated by my indulgent parents, who live near London; but I am now obliged, contrary to my former expectation, to get my livelihood in some honest way of working." The good woman, being more and more taken with her carriage, demanded if she would be content to stay with her till shecould better provide to her advantage, and that she would use her as a daughter rather than a servant. Betty thankfully accepted the offer, and in the performance of whatever she undertook discharged herself so well that she gained the love and applause of all that observed her, insomuch that her name for beauty and ingenuity began to spread, and abundance of young men resorted to the house, which created a great trade, on purpose to see her, who generally took a liking to her; for nature had made her so lovely and charming that she could not but be admired, insomuch that many of them, as they found opportunity, began to buzz love stories in her ears, to which she gave but little heed, till four suitors of greater worth beat off these little assailants, and laid close siege, as in the following chapter will appear.
How Pretty Betty, living at an Inn at Rumford, was Courted by Persons of Fortune.
It being whispered about that pretty Betty must needs be some great person's daughter, it highly increased her reputation. At last the inn-keeper's son, a very rich London merchant, courted her. But she modestly declined his offers, as also the offers of all other suitors, by representing to them the inequality of her fortune to theirs; but this served only to increase their passions. And being every day importuned, she at last resolved to discover who her parents were, judging that way to be the most sure means to try the sincerity of their love and affection which they pretended to have for her.
How Pretty Betty being Woo'd by her Master's Son, a Merchant, a Gentleman, and a Knight; how, upon her declaring her Parentage, was slighted by all but the Knight; and of their Agreement.
Our beautiful virgin, being hardly pressed for love andenjoyment, found herself obliged to take a course that might rid her of her lovers, or allot one of them to her share; wherefore she told them she was not really at her own disposal, her parents being alive; therefore, if they loved her as they said, and seeing but one could enjoy her, she was contented her father should choose one for her, of whose choice she would approve.
This set them almost at daggers drawing, who should get thither first, but whither to go they knew not, therefore desired to be informed, every one's heart being filled with joy, not doubting to carry the prize; when thus she began:—"My parents, worthy sirs, live on Bethnal Green. My father is left with a dog and a bell, living upon the charity of good people, and my mother a poor woman that spins for bread. Thus I have declared to you my parents, and though I might have the richest person in the world for a husband, yet I would not marry him without their consent, which I think myself bound in duty to obtain."
Most of her suitors seemed thunderstruck at this plain declaration, every one, except the knight, despising her now as much as they seemed to love her before, each of them swearing they would not undervalue themselves to marry a beggar's child. But the knight was more inflamed than ever, and having a large estate, did not regard interest or a portion so much as he did the pleasing of his fancy with a beautiful, modest, young, and virtuous maid, all of which centred in Pretty Betty. Therefore, after he had paused a while took the blushing virgin by the hand, and said, "You see, fair creature, how they that pretended to love you did it only in expectation of your being descended from wealthy parents, and that they might get a large portion. Though they have left you, if you will accept of me for a husband, who truly love you on account of your virtue and beauty, I will make you my wife and settle on you a jointure." To this she replied, "Alas, sir, Idare not hope for so much happiness, or, if I durst, yet would not dispose of myself without my parents' consent; though I must confess," says she, blushing, "I ever did esteem you above all the gentlemen who did make love and offer themselves to me." This modesty kindled his passion more, and therefore, after many vows of constancy, it was agreed that he should provide horses and servants, and conduct her the next morning to Bethnal Green, to ask and obtain her father's consent; yet this affair was not so secretly managed but spies being abroad soon discovered it, who not only discovered to the knight's uncle, who was guardian and trustee for him, and had the sole care of his estate, but to most of the young men in Rumford who were her admirers, as the following chapter will inform you.
How Pretty Betty rid behind the Knight to her Father's House, and what happened on the Road; also what happened between the Knight's Uncle and Betty's Father.
Pretty Betty, having met the knight according to appointment, did not scruple to ride behind him; but they had scarce got out of town when his uncle came to the inn, but not finding either of them there, was confirmed that what had been told him was true, and therefore he followed them to prevent the match, being accompanied with several of Betty's lovers, who suspected the knight had taken her away by force. Their hurry and confusion was great, and the townsmen going a nearer way, overtook and fell foul upon the knight and his servants, without giving him leave to speak for himself or suffering his mistress to excuse him, so that a sharp conflict ensued, till at length divers persons that were travelling the road came and parted them, whereby they came to a right understanding, which made those that had misused him beg his pardon,which he granted, and, dismissing them, kept on his way till, coming to the old man's door, they alighted; which made him, upon hearing the noise of horses trampling, being a thing very unusual, start from the fire, and put his head out of the window, and not understanding the meaning of it, ere the knight's uncle came puffing and blowing at a strange rate crying, "Why, how now nephew? what's this I hear of you? Are you mad to disgrace your family by marrying a beggar's brat? For shame, for shame! consider better than to make yourself a laughing stock to the world by such an unseemly match." Then, turning about to Pretty Betty, said, "Pray how came this about, you baggage you? But, however, I say, nephew, leave her and come along with me and I will provide a rich wife for you suitable to your condition."
To this the young knight would have replied, but the blind beggar Monford, not being able to bear his taunts and reproaches any longer, said, "I cannot see you at all, but sir, whatever you are I hear you too much, and more than becomes a civil gentleman; nor do I count my girl so mean to suffer her to be railed on at my door; therefore, pray sir, hold your prating, or I shall fell you with my staff. I have seen the day when a taller fellow than you durst not put me in a passion. If your kinsman does not think my child a fit match for him, let him let her alone and welcome. I am satisfied she hath her share of beauty and good breeding, and those are enough to recommend her. But know, sir, that I, her father, am willing and ready to lay down as many guineas for my child as you are to drop for your nephew, and therefore care not how soon you begin." The knight's uncle was something surprised at this speech of the blind beggar's; but, however, he accepted of the challenge, and sent to London for a bag of gold. As soon as it was brought, Monford pulled out two large cat skins stuffed with gold from under a bundle of rags, whereby it appeared histrade had been advantageous. Both parties being ready, they rained a golden shower so plentifully that the gentleman's stock failed him, and the beggar, not hearing it chink, fell into laughter and said, "How, sir, is your money done so soon? I thought at first you had more words than money. Pray, for your credit's sake, try your friends, for I have three or four cat skins with golden puddings in their bellies yet." "Indeed," said the gentleman, "I am content to own you have outdone me, and think you have the philosopher's stone, or keep a familiar to bring it to you from the golden mountain. But seeing the world goes so well with you, I shall no further go about to persuade my nephew from being your son-in-law, but beg pardon for what I have done." "Oh, do you so," said the beggar, "then may things be better, perhaps, than you expect." Then, turning to the knight, "Gather up," said he, "the loose coin I have scattered, and here's a cat skin filled which will make up the sum of three thousand pounds, beside a hundred more to buy her a wedding gown. Take this as her present portion, and, as you behave yourself, expect more hereafter. I give her to you, and with her a blessing. Go to church and be married, in God's name, and I wish you both success and prosperity." When he had thus spoken, the knight and bride fell upon their knees, and gave him a thousand thanks and departed, whilst those that had been suitors, hearing what had happened, were ready to hang themselves for madness.