by John Aubrey
Jack Young slept not, but was ready to goe out as the clocke struck to the houre of appointment, and then going to open the Dore he was disappointed, knocks, bounces, stampes, calls Tapster! Chamberlayne! Hostler! sweares and curses dreadfully; nobody would come to him. Sir John and W. Davenant were expectant all this time, and ready to dye with laughter. I know not how, he happened to gett open the Dore, and was comeing downe the stayres. The Hostler, a huge lusty fellow, fell upon him, and held him, and cryed, Good Sir, take God in your mind, you shall not goe out to destroy yourself. J. Young struggled and strived, insomuch that at last he was quite spent and dispirited, and was faine to goe to bed to rest himselfe.
In the morning the Landlady of the House came to see how he did, and brought him a Cawdle; Oh, Sir, sayd she, You had a heavy fitt last night; pray, Sir, be pleased to take some of this to comfort your heart. Jack Young thought the woman had been mad, and being exceedingly vexed flirted the porrenger of Cawdle in her face. The next day his Camerades told him all the plott, how they crosse-bitt him. That night they went to Bronham House, Sir Edward Baynton’s (then a noble seate, since burnt in the Civill Warres) where they were nobly entertained severall dayes. From thence, they went to West Kington to Parson Davenant, Sir William’s eldest brother, where they stayd a weeke—mirth, witt and good cheer flowing. From thence to Bath, six or seven miles.
My Ladye Southcott, whose husband hanged himselfe, was Sir John Suckling’s sister. At her house in Bishopsgate-Street, London, is an originall of her brother Sir John of Sir Anthony van-Dyke, all at length, leaning against a rock, with a play-booke, contemplating. It is a piece of great value.
When his Aglaura was put on, he bought all the Cloathes himselfe, which were very rich; no tinsell, all the lace pure gold and silver, which cost him … I have now forgott. He had some scaenes to it, which in those dayes were only used at Masques.
He went into France, where after sometime, being come to the bottome of his Found, reflecting on the miserable and despicable condition he should be reduced to, having nothing left to maintaine him, he (having a convenience for that purpose, lyeing at an apothecarie’s house in Paris) tooke poyson, which killed him miserably with vomiting. He was buryed in the Protestants Churchyard. This was (to the best of my remembrance) 1646.
His Picture, which is like him, before his Poemes, says that he was about 28 yeares old when he dyed.
THOMAS SUTTON
* * *
[Born 1532. Usurer. Student of Lincoln’s Inn. Surveyor of the Ordnance in the Northern Parts 1570. Obtained leases of land rich in coal in Durham and made an enormous fortune, which was further increased by his marriage with Elizabeth, widow of John Dudley. He settled in London 1580. Purchased the Charterhouse (1611), where he established a hospital of eighty inmates and a school of forty boys. He was estimated the richest commoner in England, his estates being reckoned at £5000 a year and his personalty at £60,410. Died 1611.]
THOMAS SUTTON, FOUNDER of the Hospitall, was first a Garrison-soldier at Barwick. He was a lusty, healthy, handsome fellowe, and there was a very rich Brewer that brewed to the Navy, etc., who was ancient and he had maried a young buxome wife, who enjoyed the embraces of this more able performer as to that point. The old brewer doted on his desirable wife and dies and left her all his Estate, which was great.
Sutton was a man of good understanding, and improved it admirably well: But the particular wayes by which he did it I have now forgott. But he was much upon mortgages, and fed severall with hopes of being his Heire. The Earle of Dorset (I thinke Richard) mightily courted him and presented him, hoping to have been his Heire; and so did severall other great persons.
The later end of his dayes he lived in Fleetstreet at a Wollen draper’s shop, opposite to Fetter-lane; where he had so many great Chests full of money, that his chamber was ready to groane under it; and Mr. Tyndale, who knew him and I thinke had money of him on mortgage during his Lawe-suite, was afrayd the roome would fall. He lived to establish his Hospitall, and was Governor there himselfe.
‘Twas from him that B. Johnson tooke his hint of the Fox: and by Seigneur Volpone is meant Sutton.
SILAS TAYLOR
* * *
[Born 1624. Historian. Educated at Westminster School and New Inn Hall, Oxford. Captain in the Parliamentary Army. Commissary for Ammunition under Sir Edward Harley at Dunkirk 1660. He published The History of the Gavelkind (1663) and left in manuscript a collection for The History of Herefordshire. He died in 1678.)
HE WAS A Captaine in the Parliamentary Army, under Col. Massey. He was a Sequestrator in Herefordshire: and had in those times great power: which power he used civilly and obligeingly, that he was beloved by all the King’s party.
He was very musicall, and hath composed many things, and I have heard Anthemes of his sang before his Majestie, in his Chapell, and the King told him he liked them. He had a very fine chamber organ in those un-musicall dayes.
His father left him a pretty good estate, but he bought Church Lands and had the moeity of the Bishop’s palace, at Hereford, where he leyd out much money in building and altering. The times turning, he was faine to disgorge all he had gott, and was ruined, but Sir Paul Neile got for him the Keeper of the King’s Stores at Harwich, worth about 1000 pounds per annum.
He was a great lover of Antiquities, and ransackt the MSS. of the Church of Hereford (there were a great many that lay uncouth and unkiss).
He had severall MSS. by him of great Antiquity: one thin 4to. of the Philosopher’s Stone, in Hieroglyphicks, with some few Latin verses underneath; the most curiously limned that ever I sawe. His Majesty offered him 100 pounds for it, but he would not accept it.
Capt. Tayler searched the Records in the Tower, and retrived some Privileges that the Borough of Harwich had lost, for which the Borough ought ever to have his remembrance in esteeme: and tho’ he dyed above 100 pounds in their debt, yet the Towne lost not by him, for the reason aforesaid.
The History or Collection of this Ancient Borough he pawned a little before his death to Mr. Baker, the Print-seller by the Old Exchange, for 4 pounds 15s. I acquainted Sir Philip Parker, whom the Borough uses to choose for their Burghesse, to buy it for his Borough. He would not lay out so much money, which would doe them more service then all his roast-beefe, wine, and ale at an Election.
He also garbled the Library of the Church of Worcester, and Evidences, where he had the originall Grant of King Edgar () whence the Kings of England derive their right to the Soveraignty of the Sea. ’Tis printed in Mr. Selden’s Mare Clausum. I have seen it many times, and it is as legible as but newly written (Roman character). He offered it to the King for 120 pounds but his Majesty would not give so much. Since his death, I acquainted the Secretary of Estate that he dyed in debt and his Creditors seised on his goods and papers. He told me that it did of right belong to Worcester Church. I told one of their Prebends, and they cared not for such things. I beleeve it haz wrapt Herings by this time.
JOHN TOMBES
* * *
[Born 1603. Divine. Educated at Magdalen Hall, Oxford. Being a Presbyterian, he refused to baptize infants and appealed to the Westminster Assembly on the subject and published tracts. Master of the Temple 1645–47. In 1646 he had an interview with Cromwell. He organised the Baptist Church and wrote tracts against Paedobaptists, Quakers and Papists. Died 1676.]
HE WAS A great Master of the Greeke Tongue, and the Hebrue he understood well. He alwaies carried a little Greeke Testament about with him: he had it almost memoriter.
He was soon taken notice of for his curious, searching, piercing witt: he preached somewhere Eastwards from Oxon, and had a Sect followed him; and ’twas predicted he would doe a great deale of mischiefe to the Church of England, reflecting that the greatest Witts have donne the most mischiefe to the Church, introducing new opinions, etc.
He was Vicar of a market-towne in Herefordshire, where he was very well beloved by his parish, and Sir William Croftes, eldest brother to the now Bishop
of Hereford, built a house at Leominster, to live there, to heare him preach.
Then he went into his owne country, to Beaudley a market Towne, at which time Mr. Baxter, his Antagonist, preacht at Kitterminster, the next market towne, two miles distant. They preacht against one another’s Doctrines, and printed against each other. Mr. Tombes was the Coryphaeus of the Anabaptists: both had great audience; they went severall miles on foot to each Doctor. Once (I thinke oftner) they disputed face to face; and the followers were like two armies, about 1500 of a party; and truly, at last they fell by the eares, hurt was donne, and the civill magistrates had much adoe to quiet them.
About Anno 1664 he came to the Act at Oxford, and did there in Vesperiis sett up a Challenge to maintaine contra omnes gentes [against all comers] the Anabaptisticall doctrine; but not a man would grapple with him. Now, though primâ facie this might seeme very bold to challenge a whole University, ’twas not so strange neither, for he came throughly prepared, after 30 yeares’ study and thoughts, and most of them surprised.
He was thought to be as great a Divine as most we had after Bishop Sanderson dyed. I remember he never, or seldome, was wont to say Our Saviour Christ, but my Lord Christ. He seemed to be a very pious and zealous Christian. Putting aside his Anabaptisticall positions, he was comformable enough to the Church of England.
I have heard him say (though he was much opposite to the Romish Religion) that truly, for his part, should he see a poor zealous Friar goeing to preach, he should pay him respect.
NICHOLAS TOWES
* * *
TO ONE MR. Towes, who had been School-fellow with Sir George Villers, the Father of the first Duke of Bucking ham (and was his Friend and Neighbour) as he lay in his bed awake (and it was Day-light) there came into his Chamber the Phantome of his dear Friend Sir George Villers: Said Mr. Towes to him, Why, you are Dead, what make you here? Said the Knight, I am Dead, but cannot rest in peace for the Wickedness and Abomination of my Son George at Court. I do appear to you, to tell him of it, and to advise and dehort him from his Evil ways. Said Mr. Tows, the Duke will not believe me, but will say, that I am Mad, or Doat. Said Sir George, Go to him from me, and tell him by such a Token (some Mole) that he had in some secret place, which none but himself knew of. Accordingly Mr. Towes went to the Duke, who Laugh’d at his Message. At his return home, the Phantome appeared again; and told him, that the Duke would be Stab’d (he drew out a Dagger) a quarter of a Year after: And you shall outlive him half a Year; and the Warning that you shall have of your Death will be, that your Nose will fall a-bleeding: All which accordingly fell out so.
This Account I have had (in the main) from two, or three; but Sir William Dugdale affirms what I have here taken from him to be true, and that the Apparition told him of several things to come, which proved true, e.g. of a Prisoner in the Tower, that should be honourably delivered. This Mr. Towes had so often the Ghost of his old Friend appear to him, that it was not at all terrible to him. He was Surveyor of the Works at Windsor (by the favour of the Duke): Being then sitting in the Hall, he cried out, The Duke of Buckingham is stabb’d: He was stabb’d that very moment.
Sir William Dugdale did farther inform me that Major General Middleton (since Lord) went into the Highlands of Scotland, to endeavour to make a Party for King Charles the First. An Old Gentleman (that was second-sighted) came and told him that his endeavour was good; but he would be unsuccessful, and moreover, That they would put the King to Death: and that several other Attempts would be made, but all in vain: But that his Son would come in, but not Reign; but at last would be Restored.
This Lord Middleton had a great Friendship with the Lair Bocconi, and they had made a Sacrament, That the first of them that Died should appear to the other in extremity. The Lord Middleton was taken Prisoner at Worcester Fight, and was Prisoner in the Tower of London under Three Locks. Lying in his Bed pensive, Bocconi appeared to him; my Lord Middleton asked him if he were dead or alive? He said, Dead, and that he was a Ghost, and told him, that within Three Days he should escape, and he did so in his Wive’s Cloaths. When he had done his Message, he gave a Frisk, and said,
Givenni givanni ’tis very strange,
In the World to see so sudden a Change.
And then gathered up and vanished.
Anno 1670, not far from Cyrencester, was an Apparition: Being demanded, whether a good Spirit, or a bad? returned no answer, but disappeared with a curious Perfume and most melodious Twang. Mr. W. Lilly believes it was a Farie.
THOMAS TRIPLETT
* * *
[Born 1603. Divine. Educated at St. Paul’s School and Christ Church, Oxford. Vicar of Woodburn, Northumberland, 1630; Rector of Whitburn in Durham 1631; and of Washington in the same county 1640. Canon of York 1641; collated to Canonries at Salisbury (1645) and Durham (1649), hut he was sequestered by Parliament and was not installed till 1660. Sub-Dean and Canon of Westminster 1662. In his will he left £20 a year in trust for Foure of the most worthy Schollers of the Free Schoole of Westminster that want means to subsist att the university. He died in 1670.]
HE WENT TO schoole to Dr. Gill, as appears by his Ballad, which will last longer than any Sermon that ever he made.
Dr. Gill was a very ingeniose person, as may appeare by his Writings. Notwithstanding, he had moodes and humours, as particularly his whipping fitts:
As Paedants out of the schoole-boies breeches
doe clawe and curry their owne itches.
This Dr. Gill whipt Sir John Duncomb (who was not long after a Colonel of Dragoons at Edgehill-fight) taken pissing against the wall. He had his sword by his side, but the boyes surprized him: somebody had throwen a stone in at the windowe; and they seised on the first man they lighted on. He would have cutt the Doctor, but he never went abroad but to church, and then his army went with him. He complained to the Councill, but it became ridicule, and so his revenge sank.
Dr. Triplet came to give his Master a Visit, and He whip’t him. The Dr. gott Pitcher of Oxford, who had a strong and sweet Base, to sing this Song under the schoole windowes, and gott a good guard to secure him with swords, etc., and he was preserved from the examen of the little myrmidons which issued-out to attach him; but he was so frighted that he beshitt himselfe most fearfully:
A French man voyd of English
Enquiring for Paul’s steeple
His Pardonnez-moy
He counted a toy,
For he whip’t him before all the people.
For a piece of Beef and Turnip,
Neglected, with a Cabbage,
He took up the Pillion
Of his bouncing Mayd Jillian,
And sowc’t her like a Baggage,
After his Sequestration, Dr. Triplett kept a Schoole at Dublyn, when the King was beheaded. Afterwards at Hayes, Surrey, 12 miles from London. ’Twas here our common friend George Ent went to schoole to him, who told me that he had forgott the smart of his old master Gill. He was very severe.
I’le tell you a story of our old friend. His Master Triplett was a great lover of Honey, and one of his Schoole-fellowe’s mothers having sent a pott of honey to the Doctor, G. Ent putt his schoole-fellow to beg a little of his Master, and he had gott a manchet and so they would have a Regalio. The Doctor was in his study; and the boy takes the confidence to approach with his Quaeso, Praeceptor, da mihi Mel [Please, Sir, give me some Honey]. G. Ent was sneaking behind. Quoth the disturbed doctor, You audacious raskall, and gave him a good cuff on the eare, How dare you be thus impudent? Sirrah, who putt you on? The boy answered, whiningly, G. Ent. The enraged Doctor flies out of his study (he was a very strong man) gives poor George a kick in the breech, and made him fly downe a flight of 7 or 8 staires to the landing place, where his head first came to. He was stunn’d, but ’twas well his neck was not broken. ’Twas a most cruel and inhumane act to use a poore child so. It so happened that a day or two before G. E. had shaled a Tooth. He writes a letter to his father (now Sir George Ent) and incloses the tooth in it; relates the stor
y, and that he lost the tooth by that meanes. The next day the grave and learned Dr. Ent comes to Hayes (the fame of whose learning and Testimonie did give great credit and reputation to this schoole) expostulates with the Doctor about his sonne. To be short, tooke him away, and placed him with Mr. William Radford (an honest sequestred fellow of Trinity College, Oxon, and an excellent schoolmaster, having been bred at Thame under Dr. Birt and afterwards sent to Winton). This accident well-nigh did breake Dr. Triplett’s schoole. But shortly after this time, happened the Restauration of his Majestie, and then he was also restored to his former preferments.
WILLIAM TWISSE
* * *
[Born 1578. Puritan divine. Probationer Fellow of New College, Oxford 1596. Chaplain to Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, at Heidelberg 1613. Rector of Newington Longueville 1613. Vicar of Newbury 1620. He then refused all further preferment, as lacking music in singing and rhetoric for the preaching, and not skilled to stroke a cathedral beard canonically. He became Prolocutor of the Westminster Assembly in 1643, but was opposed to the alienation of Church property. He died in 1646 and was buried in Westminster Abbey, but in 1661, his remains were, by royal command, disinterred and thrown into a common pit in St. Margaret’s Churchyard.]
HIS SONNE DR. Twisse, Minister of the New-church neer Tothill-street Westminster, told me, that he had heard his father say, that when he was a schoole-boy at Winton-colledge, that he was a rakell; and that one of his Schoole-fellowes and camerades (as wild as himselfe) dyed there; and that, his father goeing in the night to the House of office, the phantome or Ghost of his dead schoolefellow appeared to him, and told him I am damn’d: and that this was the Beginning of his Conversion.