“Love, like a worm i’ th’ bud, preyed on his damask cheek.”
He was to be seen pursuing his avocations at his “board of green cloth”
day by day, sitting
----“Like Patience on a monument
Smiling at grief.”
He “never told his love” till chance enabled him to make the idol of his
hope the offer of his hand. “No,” said the too fascinating Barbara
Green, “I will be an _Evergreen_.” The lady was inexorable, and Nathan
was in despair; but time and reflection whispered “grieving’s a folly,”
and “it’s better to have any wife than none,” and Nathan took unto
himself another, with whom he enjoyed all the “ecstatic ecstasies” of
domestic felicity.
Nathan’s business at Lynn became inadequate to his wants, and he removed
to the village of Dersingham, a few miles distant; and there, as a
“glover, poet, haberdasher, green-grocer, and psalm-singer,” he
vegetated remote from vulgar throng, and beguiled his leisure by
“cogitating in cogibundity of cogitation.”--Here it was, he tells us,
that in 1775 he had a “wonderful, incomprehensible, and pathetic
dream”--a vision of flames, in the shapes of “wig-blocks” and
“Patagonian cucumbers,” attended with horrid crashes, like the noise of
a thousand Merry Andrew’s rackets, which terrified and drove him to the
“mouth of the sea;” where, surrounded by fire and water, he could only
escape from dreadful destruction by--awaking. He believed that the fiery
wig-blocks were “opened to him” in a dream as a caution, to preserve him
from temptation. It was soon after this that, seeing one of his
neighbours at the point of death, he “cogitated” the following
“REFLECTION.
“What creatures are we!
Under the hands of he,
Who created us for to be,
Objects of his great mercy:
And the same must I be,
When years seventy,
Creep upon me.”
On another occasion, while his wife was dangerously ill, Nathan, sitting
by her bedside, became overwhelmed with “the influence of fancy,” and
believing her actually dead, concocted this
“EPITAPH.
“My wife is dead,--she was the best,
And I her bosom friend;
Yes, she is gone,--her soul’s at rest,
And I am left to mend.”
Nathan made a trifling mistake; for, “to his great surprise,” his wife
recovered, and the epitaph was put by till the proper time should
arrive.
Nathan’s dexterity in wielding his pen enabled him to serve unlettered
swains in other matters, besides their nether garments. He wrote letters
for them “on love or business,” in
“Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.”
The following ending of a “Love-letter written by particular desire,” is
a specimen of his “effusions in prose.”
----“Marriage is like war; the battle causes fear, but the sweet hope
of winning at the last stimulates us to proceed. But the effects of
matrimony are much more agreeable than war, because the engagement may
be accomplished without being prejudicial to the welfare of society.
Were I to mention all the comparisons my warm imagination could
furnish me with, it would swell this letter to a very great bulk.
“So to conclude;--the many inconveniences attending my being in
business alone, are beyond conception; and I wish the fatigue to be
abated by sharing it with some congenial soul, who may be intrusted
with both secrets and circumstances, and all affairs of importance,
too tedious to mention.”
Filled with self-importance by a lively sense of his vast acquirements,
and his amazing utility to his village neighbours, he turned his
thoughts to the “affairs of the nation” in the year 1799, and projected
the salvation of the empire, by a plan of finance for raising adequate
supplies to carry on the war against France with vigour. This he
submitted in a spirited memorial, addressed
“TO THE HON. WM. PITT, _First of Ministers_, &c. &c. &c.
“May it please your gracious Honour, Dear sir, to take into your
honourable consideration the undermentioned business, which at this
critical crisis and expensive period wants very much to be put in
practice, to the advantage of the world, the benefit of our own
government, the public’s welfare, and the glory of Dersingham.”
Nathan’s memorial runs to great length, but he states its real
“business” in a few words.--“Beloved and honourable sir, be not angry at
my proposal, if not approved of, which is, to beg of all dukes, lords,
earls, baronets, country squires, profound justices, gentlemen, great
and rich farmers, topping tradesmen, and others, who, to my certain and
inconceivable knowledge, have so much unnecessary ornamental and useless
_plate_, of all sorts and descriptions, to deliver up the same
immediately to government, to be made into money for the support of this
just and necessary war. Honoured sir, my plan is not to debar any one
from having a sufficient quantity of such like plate, but only that
which stands and remains useless and unused, which would raise many
hundreds, if not thousands of money. I have but little, yet I am (so is
my wife, in God’s name) minded, willing, and desirous, out of half a
dozen teaspoons, to deliver up half, which you know, mighty sir, will be
exactly three.”
Nathan proceeds to say, that “Many useless things, such as great
waiters, tea-kettles, frying and sauce pans, and sundry other articles
in the gold and silver way, too tedious to mention, were they now turned
into money, would supply your wants of cash. Brass, earthenware,
pipe-clay, china and glass, nothing can be sweeter, nor look neater, and
sufficient for any man or woman upon earth to eat and drink out of.--Mr.
Pitt, these sentiments I deliver from my heart; they are the dictates of
wisdom and the fruit of experience.--Was our good and gracious king, as
also yourself, worthy Mr. Pitt, once to come down into the country, and
take a survey of matters, you would be astonished how abundance of
individuals live. Pray, sir, in God’s name, take off a few taxes from
the necessaries of life, especially salt, sugar, leather, and parchment.
I myself have but six or seven shillings a week coming in, and sometimes
not that, by losses and bad debts; and now corn is risen, we labour
under great apprehension in other articles.--Dear and noble sir, I once
heard a sermon preached on a thanksgiving day, for the proclamation of
peace, by one Rev. Mr. Stony, at Lynn, Norfolk, mentioning the whole
calamities of the war; and he brought your honourable father in, very
fine. I wish from the bottom of my heart I may shortly hear such a like
one preached upon yourself.”
In conclusion, Nathan thus inquires of Mr. Pitt, “Honoured sir, from
whence comes wars, and rumours of wars, cock-fightings, and burglaries?”
Finally, says Nathan, “The limits of one sheet of paper being filled, I
must conclude, with wishing well to our good and gracious king, the
queen, and all the royal family; as also to your honour, Mr. Pitt, your
consort, sons and daughters, (if any,) and family in general.”
Nathan established his public character by his epistle to Mr. Pitt. He
made known its contents to all his friends, and shortly after he had
transmitted it, he received an acknowledgment of thanks and a promise of
reward, in a scrawling hand with an unintelligible signature; whereupon
he sagely consoled himself with this remark, that great men, “despising
the common, plebeian method of writing, generally scratch their names
so illegible, that neither themselves nor any body else can read them.”
Nathan’s notoriety was now at its height. He usually visited Lynn once
or twice a week; and flattered by the general encomiums bestowed on his
transcendent abilities by his admirers in that ancient town, he ventured
to disclose a long-cherished hope, the object of his ardent ambition, to
appear in print as an author. His desire was fostered by several
literary youths, resident in Lynn, to whom he submitted his writings for
arrangement, and in 1800 they were published to the world under the
title of “Quaint Scraps, or Sudden Cogitations.” Previous to its
appearance, he received repeated congratulations on the forthcoming
book. Among other “Commendatory Verses” was a poetical address,
purporting to have been written in America, addressed “To Nathan Coward,
the sage Author of Scraps and Cogitations, by Barnabas Boldero, LL.D.
VS. MOPQ. &c. of the Cogitating College, Philadelphia.” This pleasing
testimonial required Milton, and the “far-famed bards of elder times,”
to give place to the rising luminary of the poetical hemisphere.
“Avaunt! avaunt! hide your diminish’d heads!
When the sun shines the stars should seek their beds.
No longer clouds the dawning light imprison.
The golden age is come! a mighty sun has risen
A mighty sun, whose congregated rays
At Dersingham pour forth their dazzling blaze;
Not there alone, but e’en throughout all nations,
Beam Nathan’s _Scraps and Sudden Cogitations_!
None better knows Pindaric odes to write,
None e’er a better love-song can indite;
None better knows to play the tragic part,
Or with sweet anthems captivate the heart;
None better knows to sport extemp’re wit,
Or with strange spells avert an ague fit;
None better knows to frame th’ elegiac air,
Or with the nasal Jews harp charm the ear.”
This address is printed entire in Nathan’s book, which consisted of
epitaphs, love-letters, valentines, cures for the ague and consumption,
reflections, songs, &c. &c. The preface, the sketch of his life, and the
conclusion to the work, were drawn up by Nathan’s youthful editors.
Through them Nathan appealed to the reviewers in an address, containing
the following spirited passage:--“It is ye, ye mites of criticism, it is
ye alone I fear; for, like your namesakes, the greater the richness and
goodness of the cheese the more destructive are your depredations, and
the more numerous your partisans.” Towards the public, the poet of
Dersingham was equally candid and courageous.--“I shun the general path
of authors,” says Nathan, “and instead of ‘feeling conscious of the
numerous defects, and submitting my trifles, with all possible humility,
to the candour of a generous public,’ I venture to assert, that the
public must receive the greatest advantage from my labours; and every
member of society shall bless the hour that ushered into existence my
‘Quaint Scraps and my Sudden Cogitations.’ For what author, were he
actually conscious of his numerous defects, would wish to trust himself
to the mercy of that _generous public_, whom every one condemns for want
of discernment and liberality. No, I profess, and I am what I do
profess, a man of independent spirit! and although I have hitherto dwelt
in obscurity, and felt the annihilating influence of oppression and the
icy grasp of poverty, yet I have ever enjoyed the praiseworthy luxury of
having an opinion of my own; because,--I am conscious of the inferiority
of the opinions of others.”
These were some of the preliminary means by which, with an honesty
worthy to be imitated by authors of greater fame, Nathan aspired to win
“golden opinions.” The final sentence of his valedictory address “to the
reader” is remarkable for feeling and dignity. “I am conscious,” says
Nathan, “that I begin to fade; and be assured, that if I should be so
fortunate as to blossom a few years longer, it must be entirely imputed
to the animating influence of your praises, which will be grateful as
the pure and renovating dews of heaven. And when at length the soft
breeze of evening shall fly over the spot where I once bloomed, the
traveller will refresh it with the soft tears of melancholy, and sigh at
the frailty of all sublunary grandeur.”
His wish accomplished, and his book published, Nathan’s spare person,
(about the middle size,) clad in tight leather “shorts,” frequently
ambulated the streets of Lynn, and he had the ineffable pleasure of
receiving loud congratulations from his numerous friends. Here, perhaps,
his literary career had terminated, had not Napoleon’s abortive threats
of invasion roused Nathan to take his stand, with daring pen, in
defiance of the insolent foe. Our patriotic author produced a “Sermon”
on the impending event. His former editorial assistants again aided him,
and announced his intentions by a prospectus, setting forth that, on
such an occasion, “when address, argument, and agitation, elegy,
epitaph, and epithalamium, puff, powder, poetry, and petition, have
been employed to invigorate and inspirit the minds of Englishmen, it
surely must be a matter of serious exultation, that a writer of such
superlative celebrity as Nathan Coward should draw his pen in defence of
the common cause.--Cold and disloyal indeed must be that breast which,
even on the bare perusal, does not feel the glow of enthusiastic
patriotism,--does not beat with rapture at the pride of Dersingham, the
glory of his country, and the admiration of the universe.”
“Rise, Britons, rise, and rising nobly raise
Your joyful Pæans to great Nathan’s praise;
Nathan, whose powers all glorious heights can reach,
Now charm an ague,--now a Sermon preach;--
Nathan, who late, as time and cause seem’d fit,
Despatch’d a letter to great premier Pitt.
Showing how quick the public in a dash
Might change their spoons and platters into cash;
And now with zeal, attach’d to name nor party,
Thunders out vengeance ’gainst great Buonaparte;
Zeal that no rival bard shall e’er exceed;
To prove your judgment, quickly buy and read.”
Soon after the publication of his “Sermon,” Nathan became more sensible
to the infirmities of “threescore years and ten.” And the epitaph on his
wife having been duly appropriated, for in good time she died, he
removed to Liverpool, where he had a daughter married and settled, and
there, in her arms, about the year 1815, he breathed his last at the age
of eighty.--_Requiescat in pace._