A DEVOTEE OF THE MARVELLOUS.
Among the most remarkable events which took place in Haxey, towards the close of the last century, was the settlement, in that ancient village, of curious Toby Lackpenny, the philosophical tailor. Toby's coat was usually out at the elbows, but he had long held, throughout the whole Isle of Axholme, a high reputation as a man of deep and singular learning. His "library" was the theme of marvel unceasing to his plain and unsophisticated customers; and though it consisted but of forty or fifty ragged volumes, it constituted a wealth that the philosophical Toby, himself, priced above rubies. To this treasury of wisdom he, nightly, resorted, with ever-fresh delight, as regularly as his manual labour closed; and many an ecstatic hour did he live over his books in the sweet stillness and solitude of early morning. There were tractates on the whole circle of science, in his bibliographical collection, Toby asserted; for, like all other great philosophers, he aspired to be an encyclopedist in knowledge: but, up to the time at which we are commencing this brief record of Toby's history, it was simply, by his mastery of the erudite pages of Nicholas Culpepper,—and of a very ancient volume comprising treatises on Astrology, Geomancy, Palmistry, and other kindred occult studies,—that Toby had won for himself, throughout the length and breadth of Axholmian land, so high a character for wisdom. None could doubt the profundity of Toby's acquirements; for whoever took a wild flower to his door was sure to be told its name,—its healing virtues,—and the names of its presiding influences, the planets and zodiacal constellations,—those celestial potencies from which, he assured the visiter, every herb and flower derived their medicinal virtues. And, oh! the decoctions, and the salves, and the ointments, and the plasters, and the poultices, and the liniments, and the electuaries, and the simples, and the compounds, that were made by the old women of Haxey, and all Axholme, by Toby Lackpenny's oracular direction! And then the exultant looks and honied words with which some would return thanks to Toby, and assure him all their tooth-ache, or head-ache, or elbow-ache, had vanished, like magic, by their diligent attention to his prescription; and then the reach and shrewdness he displayed in answering such as complained that his advice had not been of the service they had apprehended, namely, that they had not plucked the flower in the hour when its own planet presided,—or they had not boiled it before the Moon rose,—and she was in opposition to Jupiter, the lord of the plant wormwood,—or some other convincing reason why the device had not succeeded.
Toby's advancement in the "astral science," also brought him an increasing number of customers,—though the naked condition of his elbows told the fact that this growing knowledge was somewhat profitless in a substantial sense. Nevertheless, every successive day strengthened his confidence that he would soon be "even with Booker, or Lilly, or Gadbury, or any of 'em that his grandfather used to talk about;"—for he had also been eager, in his day, to be able to prognosticate future events by tracing "the stars in their courses." And, now, as surely as the evening returned, Toby might be seen at his own door, seated on a low stool, drawing astrological diagrams on a fragment of slate, and placing the symbols of the planets and signs of the zodiac in due position in the "table of houses."
The vagueness which Toby found to be so characteristic of what astrologers call the "rules of judgment" often brought the zealous student to a pause, as to the real utility of his pursuit; but the extreme credulousness of his constitution usually urged him to put an end to the dubious reasonings that often rose within him. Now and then, a sharp stroke from the village parson,—levelled, in full canonicals, from the pulpit of a Sunday forenoon,—with the marksman's stern eye fixed, meanwhile, on poor Toby,—made him stagger a little. It was a guilty act,—the clergyman asserted,—to rend away the natural veil which the Creator had drawn over man's discernment of futurity: it was a controversion of the order of His Providence: it was an attempt to seize upon the Almighty's own attributes, and wield a power that belonged solely to Himself. Such eloquent sentences bothered Toby still more, when the well-intentioned shepherd rounded them by exclaiming, as he beat the
"——drum ecclesiastic
With fist instead of a stick,"
that "star-gazers, and wizards, and enchanters, were, each and all, an abomination to the Lord!"
But, alas! for poor Toby,—when his favourite disciple Joe, after being torn from him by Dame Deborah's commandment in obedience to Toby's great foe,—the vicar,—alas! for Toby, when Joe, filled with zeal to discharge his conscience, re-entered the tailor's cottage one evening at dusk, and attacked his old teacher in the very heart and centre of his predilections, declaring there would be no salvation for him in this world, till he had followed the example of the Ephesian Christians, and burnt his cabalistical books; nor any happiness for him in the prospect of a future life, until he had eschewed all his delusive vanities, and cried at the footstool of his Maker for the pardon of his sins! Never was the might with which a mind sinewed by some strong enthusiasm controls even an elder and more experienced intellect more signally evinced than in the contest between the orphan Joe, under his religious frenzy, and his old teacher, the soothsaying tailor. In the outset of this strange opposition and aggression on the part of his late scholar, Toby Lackpenny stoutly parried the blows of his unexpected adversary by returning text for text, and argument for argument.
"Is it not plainly declared in the Book of Judges, that 'the stars in their courses fought against Sisera?'" asked Toby, with all the emphasis which his zeal for the hereditary honour and power of the stars prompted;—"can any thing prove more clearly that they sway human affairs? And the inspired Psalmist saith of the heavenly bodies, that 'Their line is gone out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world.' Which word line, according to Aben Ezra, and the most skilful cabalists," continued Toby, diving into the profoundest depths of his learning for the defence of his beloved theories, "ought to be rendered rule or direction, and evidently sets forth the fact that the planets exercise lordship in their respective houses,—while the latter part of the passage makes known the precious truth that the wise and skilful student will learn to understand their language."
"But you have studied their language a long time without understanding it a whit the surer,—you know you have,—for you have told me so more than once, neighbour Toby," replied Joe, with honest and unshrinking fervour; "and as your head is fast becoming grey, and as flowers are often nipped though but in the bud,—I think it would be wiser in you as an aged man, and in me as a frail youth, to get prepared for death;—therefore, I conjure you, Toby, as you value your own soul, to forsake these vanities!"
This simple and sincere language, from one who was then little more than a child in years, shook the old man's heart more than all the clergyman's hortatory thunderbolts had shaken his reason. Toby attempted to renew his sophistries, at Joe's succeeding visits; but felt, at length, thoroughly subdued under the heartfelt and persevering enthusiasm of a mere boy.