Born: William Harvey,
discoverer of the circulation of the blood,
1578,Folkstone; Charles de St. Evremond, 1613, St.
Denis is Guast; Solomon Gesner, painter and poet,
author of 'The Death of Abel,' 1730, Zurich; Robert
Surtees, historical antiquary, 1779, Durham; Sir
Thomas F. Buxton, Bart., philanthropist, 1786, Essex.
Died: Sultan Timm (Tamerlane),
conqueror of Persia, &c., 1405 (the date otherwise
given as 19th of February); Robert III, King of Scots,
1406, Paisley; Sigismond I, King of Poland, 1548; Jean
Baptiste Tillers, miscellaneous writer, 1702; Dr. John
Langhorne, poet, translator of Plutarch, 1779, Blagdon;
Dr. Isaac Milner, Dean of Carlisle, theological
writer, 1820, Kensington Gore; Reginald Heber, Bishop
of Calcutta, 1826, Trichinopoli.
Feast Day: St. Melito,
Bishop of Sardis, in Lydia, 2nd century. St. Hugh,
Bishop of Grenoble, 1132. St. Gilbert, Bishop of
Caithness, in Scotland, 1240.
ROBERT SURTEES
It was very appropriate that
Mr. Surtees should be born on the first of April, as
he was the perpetrator of one of the most dexterous
literary impostures of modern times. Be it observed,
in the first place, that he was a true and zealous
historical antiquary, and the author of a book of high
merit in its class, the History and Antiquities of the
County Palatine of Durham. Born to a fair landed
estate, educated at Oxford, possessed of an active and
capacious mind, marked by a cheerful, social temper,
the external destiny of Surtees was such as to leave
little to be desired. Residing constantly on his
paternal acres at Mainsforth, near Durham, in the
practice of a genial hospitality, he fulfilled most of
the duties of his station in a satisfactory manner,
and was really a very popular person.
It was not till after the
death of Surtees in 1835, that any discovery was made
of the literary imposture above referred to. Sir
Walter Scott, upon whom it was practised, had died
three years earlier, without becoming aware of the
deception. Scott had published three editions of his
Border Minstrelsy, when, in BOG, he received a letter
from Mr. Surtees (a stranger to him), containing
remarks upon some of the ballads composing that work.
Scott sent a cordial answer, and by and by there came
from Mr. Surtees, a professedly old ballad 'on a feud
between the Ridleys and the Featherstones,' which he
professed to have taken down from the recitation of an
old woman on Alston Moor. It is, to the apprehension
of the writer of this article, a production as coarse
as it is wild and incoherent; but it was accompanied
by historical notes calculated to authenticate it as a
narrative of actual events, and Scott, who was then
full of excitement about ballads in general, did not
pause to criticise it rigorously. He at once accepted
it as a genuine relic of antiquity�introduced a
passage of it in Marmion, and inserted it entire in
the next edition of his Minstrelsy.
Supposing a person generally
truthful to have been for once tempted to practise a
deception like this, one would have expected him, on
finding it successful, to be filled with a concern he
had never anticipated, wishful to repair the error,
and, above all, determined to commit no more such
mistakes. Contrary to all this, we find Mr. Surtees in
the very next year passing off another ballad of his
own making upon the unsuspicious friend whose
confidence he had gained. In a letter, dated the 28th
of February in that year, he proceeds to say:
'I acid a ballad of Lord Runde,
apparently a song of gratulation on his elevation to
the peerage, which I took by recitation from a very
aged person, Rose Smith, of Bishop Middleham, set.
91, whose husband's father and two brothers were
killed in the Rebellion of 1715. I was interrogating
her for Jacobite songs, and instead acquired Lord
Ewrie. The person intended is William Lord Eure,' &c.
In this, as in the former case, he added a number of
historical notes to support the deception, and Scott
did not hesitate in putting Lord Ewrie in a false
character before the world in the next edition of his
Border Minstrelsy. This, however, was not all.
Tempted, apparently, by the very faith which Scott had
in his veracity, he played off yet a third imposture.
There is, in the later
editions of the Minstrelsy, a ballad of very vigorous
diction, entitled Barthram's Dirge, beginning:
They shot him dead on the
Nine-stone Rig,
Beside the Headless Cross;
And they left him lying in his blood,
Upon the moor and moss.'
The editor states that it was
obtained from the recitation of an old woman by his
'obliging friend' Mr. Surtees, who communicated it to
him, with only a few missing lines replaced by
him-self, as indicated by brackets. in reality, this
ballad was also by Mr. Surtees. The missing lines,
supplied within brackets, were merely designed as a
piece of apparent candour, the better to blind the
editor to the general falsehood of the story. When we
turn to the letter, in which Surtees sent the ballad
to Scott, we obtain a good notion of the plausible way
in which these tricks were framed: 'The following
romantic fragment,' says Surtees, '(which I have no
further meddled with than to fill up a hemistich, and
complete rhyme and metre), I have from the imperfect
recitation of Ann Douglas, a withered crone who weeded
in my garden:
"They shot him dead on the
Nine-stone Rig," &c.
I have no local reference to
the above. The name of Bartram bids fair for a
Northumbrian hero; but the style is, I think, superior
to our Northumbrian ditties, and more like the Scotch.
There is a place called Headless Cross, I think, in
old maps, near Elsdon, in Northumberland; but this is
too vague to found any idea upon.'�Letter of November
9, 1809.
Thus, we see the deceptions of
the learned historian of Durham were carefully
planned, and very coolly carried out. There was always
the simple crone to recite the ballad. Quotations from
old wills and genealogies established the existence of
the persons figuring in the recital. And, when
necessary, an affectation was made of supplying
missing links in modern language. A friendship was
established with the greatest literary man of his age
on the strength of these pretended services. Scott was
not only misled himself, but he was induced to mislead
others. The impostor looked coolly on, as, from day to
day, his too trusting friend was allowed to introduce
into his book fictitious representations, calculated,
when detected, to take away its credit. It is
difficult to understand how the person so acting
should be, in the ordinary affairs of life, honourable
and upright. But it was so. We are left no room to
doubt that Mr. Robert Surtees was faithful in his own
historical narrations, and wholly above mendacity for
a sordid or cowardly purpose. It was simply this �that
men of honourable principles have heretofore had but
imperfect ideas of the obligation to speak the truth
in the affairs of ancient traditionary literature�we
might almost say, of literature generally.
If they judged aright, they
would see that the natural consequence of deceptions
regarding professedly old ballads is to create and
justify doubts regarding all articles of the kind.
Seeing that one so well skilled in such matters as
Scott was deceived in at least three instances, how
shall we put trust in a single other case where he
states that a ballad was taken down for him from
popular recitation? A whole series of his legends were
professedly obtained from a Mrs. Brown of Falkland;
another series from a Mrs. Arnot of Arbroath: what
guarantee have we that these were not female Surteeses?
How rapidly would belief extend in cases where it was
justified, if there were no liars and impostors! Every
instance of deception sensibly dashes faith; and not
even the slightest departure from truth can be
practised without consequences of indefinite Mischief.
THE REV. RICHARD NAPIER, ASTROLOGER AND PHYSICIAN,
DIED APRIL 1, 1834
Astrology was so much in vogue
in the seventeenth century, that neither learning, nor
rank, nor piety secured persons from becoming its
dupes. James I was notorious for his credulity about
such delusions. Sir Kenelm Digby, though one of the
most learned and scientific men of his day, as well as
an able statesman, was scarcely less credulous.
Charles I, and his supplanter Cromwell, are alike
said to have consulted astrologers. Even the clergy,
who ought to have denounced such delusions, not only
sanctioned, but in some instances practised,
astrology. Thus the Rev. Richard Napier, though
remarkable for piety, was no less remarkable for his
supposed skill in astrology. He was a son of Sir
Robert Napier, of Luton-Hoo, in Bedfordshire, and
became rector of Great Linford, in the adjoining
county of Buckingham, in 1589. He was instructed in
astrology and physic by the celebrated Dr. Forman,
who, as Lilly informs us, 'used to say, on his first
becoming his pupil, that he would be a dunce, yet, in
continuance of time, he proved a singular astrologer
and physician.' Dr. Forman eventually thought so
highly of his pupil, that he bequeathed him 'all his
rarities and secret manuscripts of what sort soever.'
Napier was an M.A., and was
usually styled Dr; 'but,' says Aubrey, 'whether
doctorated by degree or courtesy, because of his
profession, I know not. He was a person of great
abstinence, innocence, and piety, and spent two hours
every day in family prayer.' When a patient or 'querent'
came to consult him, he immediately retired to his
closet for prayer, and was heard as holding
conversations with angels and spirits. He asked them
questions respecting his patients, and by the answers,
which he fancied they returned, he was guided more
than by his professed skill in medicine or astrology.
In fact, he privately acknowledged that he practised
astrology chiefly as the ostensible means of
information, while he really depended on his
(supposed) communications from spiritual beings. 'He
did,' says Aubrey, 'converse with the angel Raphael.'
'The angel told him if the patient were curable or
incurable.' The angel Raphael 'did resolve him, that
Mr. Booth of Cheshire should have a son that should
inherit three years hence. This was in 1619, and we
are informed that in 1622 his son George was born, who
eventually became Lord Delamere.'
At some times,' continues
Aubrey, 'upon great occasions, he had conference with
Michael, but very rarely. He outwent Forman in physick
and holiness of life; cured the falling-sickness
perfectly by constellated rings; some diseases by
annulets, &c.' Lilly, in his Autobiography, says: 'I
was with him (Napier) in 1632 or 1633, upon occasion;
he had me up into his library, being excellently
furnished with very choice books; there he prayed
almost one hour. He invocated several angels in his
prayer �viz., Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, &c.'
One or two examples may
suffice to illustrate the nature of his practice. When
'E. W -----Esq.,' was about eight years old, he was
troubled with worms, and was taken by his grandfather,
'Sir Francis �,' to Dr. Napier. The doctor retired to
his closet, and E. W-- peeped in, and saw him on his
knees at prayer. The doctor, duly instructed by his
angelic adviser, returned to Sir Francis, and ordered
his grandson to take a draught of muscadine every
morning, and predicted he would be free from the
disorder when fourteen years old!
A woman afflicted with ague
applied to the doctor, who gave her a spell to cure
it; but 'a minister' seeing it, sharply reproved her
for using such a diabolical aid, and ordered her to
burn it. She burned it; but the ague returned so
severely, that she again applied to the doctor for the
spell, and was greatly benefited by its use. But the
minister, on discovering what she was doing, so
alarmed her with its consequences, that she again
burned the spell. 'Whereupon she fell extremely ill,
and would have had the spell the third time; but the
doctor refused, saying, that she had contemned and
slighted the power and goodness of the blessed
spirits, and so she died.'
In 1634, the Earl of
Sunderland placed himself for some months under the
care of Dr. Napier; the Earl of Bolingbroke and Lord
Wentworth also patronised him, and protected him from
the interference of magistrates, extending their
protection even to his friends and
fellow-practitioners of the unlawful art. For the
doctor, we are told, 'instructed many other ministers
in astrology," lent them whole cloak-bags full of
books,' and protected them from harm and violence,
especially one William Marsh of Dun-stable, a
recusant, who, 'by astrology, resolved thievish
questions, and many times was in trouble, but by Dr.
Napier's interest was still enabled to continue his
practice, no justice of the peace being permitted to
vex him.' 'This man had only two books, Guido and Haly,
bound together. He had so numbled and thumbled the
leaves of both, that half one side of every leaf was
torn even to the middle. He did seriously confess to a
friend of mine that astrology was but the countenance,
and that he did his business by the help of the
blessed spirits, with whom only men of great piety,
humility, and charity could be acquainted.'
Dr. Napier does not appear to
have been assisted by Raphael in his clerical
ministrations; for 'miscarrying one day in the pulpit,
he never after used it, but all his lifetime kept in
his house some excellent scholar or other to officiate
for him!' "Tis certain,' says Aubrey, 'he told his own
death to a day and hour, and died praying upon his
knees, being of a very great age, on April 1st, 1634.
His knees were horny with frequent praying.' His
burial is thus entered in the parish register: 'April
15, 1634. Buried, Mr. Richard Napier, rector, the most
renowned physician both of body and soul.'
His manuscripts, which.
contained a diary of his practice for fifty years,
fell into the hands of Elias Ashmole, who had them
bound in several folio volumes, and deposited with his
own in the library at Oxford which bears his name, and
where they still remain, together with a portrait of
Dr. Napier. Many of the medical recipes in these
manuscripts are marked by Dr. Napier, as having been
given him by the angel Raphael.
ORIGIN OF
HACKNEY-COACH STANDS
On the 1st of April 1639, Mr.
Garrard, writing in London to Wentworth, Earl of
Strafford, then Lord-lieutenant of Ireland, says:
I cannot omit to mention any
new thing that comes up amongst us, though never so
trivial. Here is one Captain Baily; he hath been a
sea-captain, but now lives on the land, about this
city, where he tries experiments. He hath erected,
according to his ability, some fourhackney-coaches,
put his men in a livery, and appointed them to stand
at the Maypole in the Strand, giving them
instructions at what rate to carry men into several
parts of the town, where all day they maybe had.
Other hackney-men seeing this way, they flocked to
the same place, and performed their journeys at the
same rate; so that sometimes there is twenty of them
together, which disperse up and down, that they and
others are to be had everywhere, as water-men are to
be had by the water-side. Everybody is much pleased
with it; for, whereas before coaches could not be
had but at great rates, now a man may have one much
cheaper.'
'Gossip Garrard,' as he has
been termed, was scarcely correct in saying that
everybody was pleased with the new and convenient
system of metropolitan conveyances introduced by the
retired sea-captain. The citizen shopkeepers bitterly
complained that they were ruined by the coaches.
'Formerly,' they said, 'when ladies and gentlemen
walked in the streets, there was a chance of obtaining
customers to inspect and purchase our commodities; but
now they whisk past in the coaches before our
apprentices have time to cry out "What d'ye lack"'
Another complaint was, that in former times the
tradesmen in the principal streets earned as much as
paid their rents by letting out their upper apartments
to members of parliament, and country gentlemen
visiting London on pleasure or business, until the
noise made by the coaches drove the profitable lodgers
to less frequented thoroughfares.
Taylor, the water-poet, being
a waterman, one of the class whose business was most
injured by the coaches, felt exceedingly bitter
against the new system, and wrote an invective,
entitled The World Runs upon Wheels, in which he
adduces all the inconveniences of coaches,
enumerating, in his peculiar style, all the
disadvantages caused by them. 'We poor watermen,' he
says, 'have not the least cause to complain against
this infernal swarm of trade-spoilers, who, like
grass-hoppers or caterpillars of Egypt, have so
overrun the land, that we can get no living on the
water; for I dare truly affirm, that every day,
especially if the court be at Whitehall, they do rob
us of our livings, and carry five hundred and sixty
fares daily from us.'
In another publication,
entitled The Thief, Taylor says:
Carroches, coaches, jades,
and Flanders mares, Do rob us of our shares, our
wares, our fares: Against the ground, we stand and
knock our heels, Whilst all our profit runs away on
wheels; And, whosoever but observes and notes The
great increase of coaches and of boats, Shall find
their number more than e'er they were, By half and
more, within this thirty year. The watermen at sea
had service still, And those that staid at home had
work at will: Then upstart helcart-coaches were to
seek, A man could scarce see twenty in a week; But
now, I think, a man may daily see More than the
wherrys on the Thames can be.'
The stillness of London
streets in the olden time is unexpectedly exemplified
by the serious complaints made regarding the noise of
coaches. We might wonder what an ancient citizen would
say if he could possibly hear the incessant roar of
the cabs, omnibuses, vans, &c., of the present day!
Taylor, when there were only some dozen
hackney-coaches, and a very few private carriages,
thus entreats his readers:
'I pray you but note the
streets, and the chambers or lodgings in Fleet
Street or the Strand, how they are pestered with
coaches, especially after a masque or play at the
court, where even the very earth shakes and
trembles, the easements shatter, tatter, and
clatter, and such a confused noise is made, as if
all the devils were at barley-break,* so that a man
can neither sleep, speak, hear, write, or eat his
dinner or supper quiet for them; besides, their
tumbling din (like a counterfeit thunder) cloth sour
wine, beer, and ale most abominably, to the
impairing of their healths that drink it, and the
making of many a victualler trade-fallen.'
'A coach,' he continues,
'like a heathen, a pagan, an infidel, or an atheist,
observes neither Sabbath nor holiday, time nor
season, robustiously breaking through the toil or
net of divine and human law, order, and authority,
and, as it were, condemning all Christian
conformity, like a dog that lies on a heap of hay,
who will eat none of it himself, nor suffer any
other beast to eat any. Even so, the coach is not
capable of hearing what a preacher saith, nor will
it suffer men or women to hear that would hear, for
it makes such a hideous rumbling in the streets by
many church doors, that people's ears are stopped
with the noise, whereby they are debarred of their
edifying, which makes faith so fruitless, good works
so barren, and charity as cold at midsummer as if it
were a great frost, and by this means souls are
robbed and starved of their heavenly manna, and the
kingdom of darkness replenished. To avoid which they
have set up a cross-post in Cheapside on Sundays,
near Wood Street end, which makes the coaches rattle
and jumble on the other side of the way, further
from the church, and from hindering of their
hearing.'
Public convenience, however
much it may be opposed at first, invariably triumphs
in the end over private interests. The four
hackney-coaches started by Captain Baily in 1634,
increased so rapidly, that their number in 1637 was
confined by law to 50; in 1652, to 200; in 1659, to
300; in 1662, to 400; in 1694, to 700; in 1710, to
800; in 1771, to 1000. It is not our purpose to
continue their history further.
At first the hackney
coach-driver sat in a kind of chair, in front of the
vehicle, as may be seen by a rude wood-cut in a ballad
of the period, preserved in the Roxburghe collection,
written by Taylor, and entitled The Coache's
Overthrow. Subsequently, in the reign of Charles II,
the driver sat on one of the horses, in manner of a
modern postilion. This is clearly evident, by the
short whip and spurs of the man in the pre-ceding
illustration, taken from a contemporary engraving,
representing a hackney-coachman of that reign. In the
early part of the last century the custom had changed,
the driver sitting in front on a box, in which was
kept food for the horses, and a piece of rope, nails,
and hammer to repair the vehicle in case of accident.
Subsequently, this rude box was, for neatness' sake,
covered with a cloth, and thus we now have the terms
box-seat and hammer-cloth.
It is said that the sum of
�1500, arising from the duty on hackney-coaches, was
applied in part payment of the cost of rebuilding
Temple Bar.
APRIL
FOOLS
The 1st of April, of all days
in the year, enjoys a character of its own, in as far
as it, and it alone, is consecrated to practical
joking. On this day it becomes the business of a vast
number of people, especially the younger sort, to practise innocent impostures
upon their unsuspicious
neighbours, by way of making them what in France are
called poissons d'Avril, and with us April fools. Thus
a knowing boy will despatch a younger brother to see a
public statue descend from its pedestal at a
particular appointed hour. A crew of giggling
servant-maids will get hold of some simple swain, and
send him to a bookseller's shop for the History of
Eve's Grandmother, or to a chemist's for a pennyworth
of pigeon's milk, or to a cobbler's for a little strap
oil, in which last case the messenger secures a hearty
application of the strap to his shoulders, and is sent
home in a state of bewilderment as to what the affair
means.
The urchins in the kennel make
a sport of calling to some passing beau to look to his
coat-skirts; when he either finds them with a piece of
paper pinned to them or not; in either of which cases
he is saluted as an April fool. A waggish young lady,
aware that her dearest friend Eliza Louisa has a
rather empty-headed youth dangling, after her with
little encouragement, will send him a billet,
appointing him to call upon Eliza Louisa at a
particular hour. when instead of a welcome, he finds
himself treated as an intruder, and by and by
discovers that he has not advanced his reputation for
saga-city or the general prospects of his suit.
The great object is to catch
some person off his guard, to pass off upon him, as a
simple fact, something barely possible, and which has
no truth in it; to impose upon him, so as to induce
him to go into positions of absurdity, in the eye of a
laughing circle of bystanders. Of course, for
successful April fooling, it is necessary to have some
considerable degree of coolness and face; as also some
tact whereby to know in what direction the victim is
most ready to be imposed upon by his own tendencies of
belief. It may be remarked, that a large proportion of
the business is effected before and about the time of
breakfast, while as yet few have had occasion to
remember what day of the year it is, and before a
single victimisation has warned people of their
danger.
What compound is to simple
addition, so is Scotch to English April fooling. In
the northern part of the island, they are not content
to make a neighbour believe some single piece of
absurdity. There, the object being, we shall say, to
befool simple Andrew Thomson:
Wag No. 1 sends him away with
a letter to a friend two miles off, professedly asking
for some useful information, or requesting a loan of
some article, but in reality containing only the
words:
This is the first day of
April,
Hunt the gowk another mile.'
Wag No. 2, catching up the
idea of his correspondent, tells Andrew with a grave
face that it is not in his power, &e.; but if he will
go with another note to such a person, he will get
what is wanted. Off Andrew trudges with this second
note to Wag No. 3, who treats him in the same manner;
and so on he goes, till some one of the series, taking
pity on him, hints the trick that has been practised
upon him.
A successful affair of this kind will keep
rustic society in merriment for a week, during which
honest Andrew Thomson hardly can shew his face.
The
Scotch employ the term gowk (which is properly a
cuckoo) to express a fool in general, but more
especially an April fool, and among them the practice
above described is called hunting the gowk.
Sometimes the opportunity is
taken by ultra-jocular persons to carry out some
extensive hoax upon society. For example, in March
1860, a vast multitude of people received through the
post a card having the following inscription, with a
seal marked by an inverted sixpence at one of the
angles, thus having to superficial observation an
official appearance:
'Tower of London.�Admit the
Bearer and Friend to view the Annual Ceremony of
Washing the White Lions, on Sunday, April 1st, 1860.
Admitted only at the White Gate. It is particularly
requested that no gratuities be given to the Wardens
or their Assistants.'
The trick is said to have been
highly successful. Cabs were rattling about Tower Hill
all that Sunday morning, vainly endeavouring to
discover the White Gate.
It is the more remarkable that
any such trick should have succeeded, when we reflect
how identified the 1st of April has become with the
idea of imposture and unreality. So much is this the
case, that if one were about to be married, or to
launch some new and speculative proposition or
enterprise, one would hesitate to select April 1st for
the purpose. On the other hand, if one had to issue a
mock document of any kind with the desire of its being
accepted in its proper character, he could not better
insure the joke being seen than by dating it the 1st
of April.
The literature of the last
century, from the Spectator downwards, has many
allusions to April fooling; no references to it in our
earlier literature have as yet been pointed out.
English antiquaries appear unable to trace the origin
of the custom, or to say how long it has existed among
us. In the Catholic Church, there was the
Feast of the
Ass on Twelfth Day, and various mummings about
Christmas; but April fooling stands apart from these
dates.
There is but one plausible-looking suggestion
from Mr. Pegge, to the effect that, the 25th of March
being, in one respect, New Year's Day, the 1st of
April was its octave, and the termination of its
celebrations; but this idea is not very satisfactory.
There is much more importance in the fact, that the Hindoos have, in their Huli,
which terminates with the
31st of March, a precisely similar festival, during
which the great aim is to send persons away with
messages to ideal individuals, or individuals sure to
be from home, and enjoy a laugh at their
disappointment. To find the practice so widely
prevalent over the earth, and with so near a
coincidence of day, seems to indicate that it has had
a very early origin amongst mankind.
Swift, in his Journal to
Stella, enters under March 31, 1713, that he, Dr. Arbuthnot, and Lady Ma
sham had been amusing
themselves that evening by contriving 'a lie for
tomorrow.' A person named Noble had been hanged a few
days before. The lie which these three laid their
heads together to concoct, was, that Noble had come to
life again in the hands of his friends, but was once
more laid hold of by the sheriff, and now lay at the
Black Swan in Holborn, in the custody of a messenger.
'We are all,' says Swift, 'to send to our friends, to
know whether they have heard anything of it, and so we
hope it will spread.' Next day, the learned Dean duly
sent his servant to several houses to inquire among
the footmen, not letting his own man into the secret.
But nothing could be heard of the resuscitation of Mr.
Noble; whence he concluded that 'his colleagues did
not contribute' as they ought to have done.
April fooling is a very noted
practice in France, and we get traces of its
prevalence there at an earlier period than is the case
in England. For instance, it is related that Francis,
Duke of Lorraine, and his wife, being in captivity at
Nantes, effected their escape in consequence of the
attempt being made on the 1st of April. 'Disguised as
peasants, the one bearing a hod on his shoulder, the
other carrying a basket of rubbish at her back, they
both at an early hour of the day passed through the
gates of the city. A woman, having a knowledge of
their persons, ran to the guard to give notice to the
sentry. "April fool!" cried the soldier; and all the
guard, to a man, shouted out, "April fool!"
beginning with the sergeant in charge of the post. The
governor, to whom the story was told as a jest,
conceived some suspicion, and ordered the fact to be
proved; but it was too late, for in the meantime the
duke and his wife were well on their way. The 1st of
April saved them.'
It is told that a French lady
having stolen a watch from a friend's house on the 1st
of April, endeavoured, after detection, to pass off
the affair as un poisson d'Avril, an April joke. On
denying that the watch was in her possession, a
messenger was sent to her apartments, where it was
found upon a chimney-piece. 'Yes,' said the adroit
thief, 'I think I have made the messenger a fine
poisson d'Avril!' Then the magistrate said she must be
imprisoned till the 1st of April in the ensuing year,
comme un poisson d'Avril.
THE WISE FOOLS OF
GOTHAM
On an eminence about a mile
south of Gotham, a village in Nottinghamshire, stands
a bush known as the 'Cuckoo Bush,' and with which the
following strange legend is connected. The present
bush is planted on the site of the original one, and
serves as a memorial of the disloyal event which has
given the village its notoriety.
King John, as the story goes,
was marching towards Nottingham, and intended to pass
through Gotham meadow. The villagers believed that the
ground over which a king passed became for ever
afterwards a public road; and not being minded to part
with their meadow so cheaply, by some means or other
they prevented the king from passing that way.
Incensed at their proceedings, he sent soon after to
inquire the reason of their rudeness and incivility,
doubtless intending to punish them by fine or
otherwise. When they heard of the approach of the
messengers, they were as anxious to escape the
consequences of the monarch's displeasure as they had
been to save their meadow.
What time they had for
deliberation, or what counsels they took we are not
told, but when the king's servants arrived they found
some of the inhabitants endeavouring to drown an eel
in a pond; some dragging their carts and wagons to the
top of a barn to shade a wood from the sun's rays;
some tumbling cheeses down a hill in the expectation
that they would find their way to Nottingham Market,
and some employed in hedging in a cuckoo, which had
perched upon an old bush!
In short they were all
employed in such a manner as convinced the king's
officers that they were a village of fools, and
consequently unworthy of his majesty's notice. They,
of course, having outwitted the king, imagined that
they were wise. Hence arose the saying 'The wise fools
of Gotham.' Fuller says, alluding to this story, and
some others to which this gave rise, such as 'The
Merry Tales of the Mad Men of Gotham,' published in
the time of Henry VIII, 'Gotham doth breed as wise
people as any which causelessly laugh at their
simplicity.'
But they have other defenders
besides Fuller. Some skeptical poet, whose production
has not immortalized his name, writes:
'Tell me no more of
Gotham fools,
Or of their eels, in little pools,
Which they, we're told, were drowning;
Nor of their carts drawn up on high
When King John's men were standing by,
To keep a wood from browning.
Nor of their cheese
shov'd down the hill,
Nor of the cuckoo sitting still,
While it they hedged round:
Such tales of them have long been told,
By prating boobies young and old,
In drunken circles crowned.
The fools are those who
thither go,
To see the cuckoo bush, I trow,
The wood, the barn, and pools;
For such are seen both here and there,
And passed by without a sneer,
By all but errant fools.'
