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SIR HARRY DIMSDALE, Mayor of Garratt. 
 
THE 
 
 LIFE AND SKETCHES 
 
 • 0 F 
 
 CURIOUS AND ODD CHARACTERS. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 WITH TWENTY-FOUR ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 * 
 
 boston: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY CHARLES GAYLORD. 
 
 1840 , 
 

 
 
 
 o s* 
 
 „v . r 
 
 O & 
 
 
 
POUTMMTS 
 
 OF 
 
 CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 NATHANIEL BENTLEY, ESQ. 
 
 Known by the name of Dirty Dick , 
 
 Late a Hardware Merchant in Leadenhall-street, London. 
 
 Mr. Bentley resided at the comer of the av- 
 enue leading to the house formerly the Old Crown 
 
6 
 
 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 Tavern, Leadenhall-street, not far from the East- 
 India House. 
 
 The house and character of this eccentric indi- 
 vidual are so well described in a poem published 
 in the European Magazine, for January, 1801, 
 that we shall transcribe it : 
 
 “ Who but has seen (if he can see at all) 
 
 ’Tvvixt Aldgate’s well-known pump and Leadenhall, 
 
 A curious hard-ware shop, in general full 
 Of wares, from Birmingham and Pontipool ? 
 
 Begrim’d with dirt, behold its ample front. 
 
 With thirty years collected filth upon ’t. 
 
 See festoon’d cobwebs pendent o’er the door. 
 
 While boxes, bales, and trunks, are strew’d around the floor. 
 
 “ Behold how whistling winds and driving rain 
 Gain free admission at each broken pane, 
 
 Save where the dingy tenant keeps them out 
 With urn or tray, knife-’case, or dirty clout! 
 
 Here snuffers, waiters, patent-screws for corks; 
 
 There castors, card-racks, cheese-trays, knives and forks: 
 
 Here empty cases pil’d in heaps on high; 
 
 There pack-thread, papers, rope, in wild disorder lie. 
 
 “ O say, thou enemy to soap and towels ! 
 
 Hast no compassion lurking in thy bowels ? 
 
 Think what thy neighbors suffer by thy whim 
 Of keeping self and house in such a trim! 
 
 The officers of health should view the scene. 
 
 And put thy shop and thee in quarantine. 
 
 Consider thou, in summer’s ardent heat. 
 
 When various means are tried to cool the street. 
 
 What must each decent neighbor suffer then 
 From various vapours issuing from thy den. 
 
 “ When fell Disease, with all her horrid train, 
 
 Spreads her dark pinions o’er ill-fated Spain, 
 
 That Britain may not witness such a scene, 
 
 Behoves us doubly now to keep our dwellings clean. 
 
 “ Say, if, within the street where thou dost dwell. 
 
 Each house were kept exactly like thy cell; 
 
NATHANIEL BENTLEY. 
 
 7 
 
 O, say, thou enemy to brooms and mops! 
 
 How long thy neighbors could keep open shops. 
 
 If, following thee in taste, each wretched elf, 
 
 Unshav’d, unwash’d, and squalid like thyself. 
 
 Resolv’d to live ? — The answer’s very plain. 
 
 One year would be the utmost of their reign: 
 
 Victims to filth, each vot’rysoon would fall. 
 
 And one grand jail-distemper kill them all. 
 
 “ Persons them are, who say thou hast been seen 
 (Some years ago) with hands and face wash’d clean; 
 
 And, wouldst thou quit this most unseemly plan, 
 
 Thou art (’tissaid) a very comely man: 
 
 Of polish’d language, partial to the fair. 
 
 Then why not wash thy face and comb thy matted hair? 
 
 Clear from thy house accumulated dirt, 
 
 New paint the front, and wear a cleaner shirt.” 
 
 Many are the reports concerning his civility, and 
 polite manner of attending to the ladies, whenever 
 they have honoured him with their commands ; 
 and several curious persons have come to town 
 from various parts of the country, on purpose to 
 see so remarkable a figure. 
 
 Before the powder-tax was introduced, Nathaniel 
 frequently paid a shilling for dressing that head, 
 which of late years he scarcely seemed to think 
 worthy of a comb ! He mends his own clothes, 
 and washes his own linen, — which he proudly 
 acknowledges. His answer to a gentleman who 
 wished to convert him to cleanliness, was, “It is 
 of no use, Sir; if I wash my hands to-day, they will 
 be dirty again to-morrow.” On being asked 
 whether he kept a dog or cat to destroy rats, 
 mice, &.c. he replied, “No, Sir, they only make 
 more dirt, and spoil more goods than any service 
 they are of ; but as to rats and mice, how can 
 they live in my house, when I take care to leave 
 them nothing to eat ?” If asked why he does not 
 
8 PORTRAITS OP CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 take down his shutters which have been so long 
 up, or why he does not put his goods in proper 
 order, his answer is, “ he has been long thinking 
 of it, but he has not time.” 
 
 With all Nathaniel Bentley’s eccentricities, it 
 must be acknowledged, he is both intelligent and 
 polite: like a diamond begrimed with dirt, which, 
 though it may easily conceal its lustre in such a 
 state, can easily recover its original polish — not a 
 diamond indeed of the first water — not a rough 
 diamond — but an unwashed diamond. 
 
 In his beauish days, his favorite suit was blue 
 and silver, with his hair dressed in the extremity of 
 fashion; but now — strange fancy — his hair fre- 
 quently stands up like the quills of the porcupine, 
 and he generally attended in his late shop without a 
 coat, while his waistcoat, breeches, shirt, face, and 
 hands, corresponded with the dirt of his ware- 
 house. 
 
 ANN SIGGS. 
 
 Contrast to the Character last mentioned. 
 
 Those who are in the practice of walking the 
 principal streets of this metropolis, leading from 
 Bond-street to Cornhill, must have been attracted 
 by the daily appearance of Ann Siggs, a tall 
 woman, walking apparently easy with crutches, 
 and mostly dressed in white, sometimes wearing 
 a jacket or spencer of green baize; yet always 
 remarkably clean in her dress and appearance. 
 
 It does not appear, however, that this female 
 ranks very high among the remarkables , having 
 but very few eccentricities, and nothing very singu- 
 lar, except her dress and method of walking. The 
 great burthen of warm clothing which she always 
 
ANN SIGGS. 
 
 9 
 
 wears, is not from affectation, or a disposition to 
 promote popular gaze, but from the necessity of 
 guarding against the least cold, which she says 
 always increases a rheumatic complaint with which 
 she is afflicted. 
 
 When we consider the great number of beggars 
 who daily perambulate London, and the violence 
 they commit against decency, cleanliness, and 
 delicate feelings, one naturally feels surprised they 
 are so often the receivers of the generosity and 
 bounty of the passing crowds; but independent of 
 the commendable garb which adorns the interesting 
 figure of Ann Siggs, we have repeatedly noticed 
 
10 PORTRAITS OP CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 another rare quality so very uncommon among the 
 mendicant tribe, and that is, a silent and modest 
 appeal to the considerate passenger, which almost 
 involuntarily calls forth inquiry 
 
 She is about fifty-six years of age, and is said 
 to have a brother still living, an opulent tradesman 
 on the Surrey side of the water : she also had a 
 sister living at Isleworth, who died some time 
 since. , • 
 
 This mendicant receives from the parish of St. 
 Michael, Cornhill, a weekly allowance, which, 
 with the benevolence of some well-disposed per- 
 sons, probably adds considerably to her comforts, 
 
 “ But cannot minister to the mind diseas’d.” 
 
 It appears she has lived in Eden-court, Swal- 
 low-street, upwards of fifteen years, the lonely 
 occupant of a small back room, leaving it at 9 
 o’clock every morning to resume her daily walks. 
 
 Her father lived many years at Dorking, in 
 Surrey, maintaining the character of an indus- 
 trious, quiet, and honest man, by the trade of a 
 tailor, and who, having brought up a large family 
 of eight children, died, leaving the present Ann 
 Siggs destitute of parental protection at the age 
 of eighteen; and after many revolutions of bright 
 and gloomy circumstances that have attended her 
 during her humble perambulations, which the 
 weakest minds are by no means calculated to 
 endure, these have in some measure wrought upon 
 her intellects. She is however perfectly innocent. 
 
J1 
 
 MARTIN VAN BUTCHELL. 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE CELEBRATED 
 
 MARTIN VAN BUTCHELL, 
 
 Surgeon Dentist, fyc. of Mount-str. Berkeley-square. 
 
 The appellation of extraordinary may, indeed, 
 well apply to this ingenious and whimsical man. 
 All the remarkable eccentricities which have yet 
 been the characteristic of any man, however cele- 
 brated, may all hide their diminished heads before 
 Martin Van Butchell. He is the morning-star of 
 the eccentric world; a man of uncommon merit 
 
12 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS 
 
 and science, therefore the more wonderful from 
 his curious singularities, his manners, and his ap- 
 pearance. Many persons make use of means to 
 excite that attention which their merit does not 
 deserve, and for the obtaining of credit which they 
 never possessed. It appears, as an exception to 
 these rules, that the singularities of Martin Van 
 Butchell have tended more to obscure, than to 
 exalt or display the sterling abilities which even the 
 tongue of envy has never denied him. 
 
 The father of Martin Van Butchell was very 
 well known in the reign of George II.; being 
 tapestry-maker to his majesty, with a salary of 
 £50 per annum attached to the office. 
 
 The edq^gtion of the son was equal to the 
 father’s circumstances ; who lived in a large 
 house, with extensive gardens, known by the 
 name of the “ Crown House,” in the parish of 
 Lambeth, where several of the gentry occasionally 
 lodged for the beauty of the situation and air; the 
 son, who had many opportunities of improvement by" 
 and through the distinguished persons who paid 
 their visits at his father’s house, was early taken 
 notice of, and very soon possessed a knowledge 
 of the French language, and arrived at many ac- 
 complishments. He maintained a good character, 
 with a prepossessing address; recommendations 
 which induced Sir Thomas Robinson to solicit his 
 acceptance to travel with his son, as a suitable 
 companion, in a tour through Europe. This offer, 
 it appears, was not accepted; but in a short time 
 after, he joined the family of the Viscountess 
 Talbot; where, as groom of the chambers, he 
 remained many years: a situation so lucrative as 
 to enable him to leave and pursue with vigour his 
 endeared studies of mechanics, medicine and 
 anatomy. 
 
MARTIN VAN BUTCHELL. 
 
 13 
 
 The study of the human teeth accidentally took 
 up his attention through the breaking of one of his 
 own, and he engaged himself as pupil to the famous 
 Dr. J. Hunter. The profession of dentist was the 
 occasion of first introducing him to the notice of 
 the public; and so successful was he in this art, 
 that for a complete set of teeth he has received 
 the enormous price of eighty guineas! We have 
 heard of a lady who was dissatisfied with teeth 
 for which she had paid him ten guineas; upon, 
 which he voluntarily returned the money : scarcely 
 had she slept upon the contemplation of this dis- 
 appointment, before she returned, soliciting the set 
 of teeth, which he had made her, as a favour, with 
 an immediate tender of the money which she 
 originally paid, and received them back again. 
 
 After many years successfully figuring as a 
 dentist, Martin Van Butchell became no less emi- 
 nent as a maker of trusses for ruptured persons.,, 
 A physician of eminence in Holland having heard 
 of his skill in this practice, made a voyage for the 
 purpose of consulting him, and was so success- 
 fully treated, that, in 'return for the benefit re- 
 ceived, he taught Martin Van Butchell the secret 
 of curing fistulas; which he has practised ever 
 since in an astonishing and unrivalled manner. 
 
 The eccentricities of Martin now began to 
 excite public notice; upon his first wife’s death, 
 who, for the great affection he bore towards her, 
 he was at first determined never should be buried; 
 after embalming the body, he kept her in her 
 wedding clothes a considerable time, in the parlour 
 of his own house, which occasioned the visits of a 
 great number of the nobility and gentry. I v has 
 been reported, that the resolution of his keeping 
 his wife unburied, was occasioned by a clause in 
 the marriage settlement, disposing of certsiA 
 
14 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 property, while she remained above ground: we can- 
 not decide how far this may be true, but she has 
 been since buried. He has a propensity to every 
 thing in direct opposition to other persons: he 
 makes it a rule to dine by himself, and for his wife 
 and children also to dine by themselves; and it is 
 his common custom to call his children by whistling, 
 and by no other way. 
 
 Next to his dress and the mode of wearing his 
 beard, one of the first singularities which dis- 
 tinguished him, was walking about London streets, 
 with a large .Otaheitan tooth or bone in his hand, 
 fastened in a string to his wrist, intended to deter 
 the boys from insulting him, as they very im- 
 properly were used to do, before his person and 
 character were so well known. 
 
 Upon the front of his house, in Mount-street, he 
 had painted the following puzzle: 
 
 BY 
 
 HIS MAJESTY’S 
 
 Thus said sneaking Jack, speaking like himself, 
 
 I’ll be first ; if I get my money, Y L I don’t care who suffers 
 
 LETTERS PATENT, 
 
 MARTIN VAN BUTCHELL’S 
 
 NEW INVENTED 
 
 with caustic care and old Phim 
 
 SPRING BANDS AND FASTENINGS 
 Sometimes in six days, and always ten — 
 the fistulee in Ano. 
 
 FOR 
 
 THE APPAREL AND FURNITURE 
 July Sixth 
 
 OF 
 
 Licensed to deal in Perfumery, i. e^ 
 
 HUMAN BEINGS 
 
 , Hydrophobia cured in thirty days, 
 
 AND 
 
 BRUTE CREATURES 
 
 made of Milk and Honey. 
 
MARTIN VAN BUTCHELL. 
 
 15 
 
 which remained some years. In order a little to 
 comprehend it: some years ago, he had a famous 
 dun horse, but on some dispute with the stable- 
 keeper, the horse was detained for the keep, and 
 at last sold, by the ranger of Hyde-Park, at Tat- 
 iersal’s, where it fetched a very high price. This 
 affair was the cause of a law-suit, and the reason 
 why Martin Van Butchell interlined the curious 
 notice in small gold letters, nearly at the top, as 
 follows: — “Thus said sneaking Jack, speaking 
 like himself, I’ll be first; if I get my money, I 
 don’t care who suffers.” 
 
 After losing his favorite dun horse, a purchase 
 was ^oon made of a small white poney, which he 
 never suffers to be trimmed in any manner what- 
 ever; the shoes for it are always fluted to prevent 
 slipping, and he will not suffer the creature to 
 wear any other. His saddle is no less curious. 
 He humorously paints the poney, some times all 
 purple, often with purple spots, and with streaks and 
 circles upon his face and hinder parts. He rides 
 on this equipage very frequently, especially on 
 Sundays, in the Park and about the streets. 
 
 The curious appearance of him and his horse 
 have a very striking effect, and aftvays attracts 
 the attention of the public. His beard has not 
 been shaved or cut for fifteen years; his hat shallow' 
 and narrow brimmed, and now almost white with 
 age, though originally black: his coat a kind of 
 russet brown, which has been worn a number of 
 years, with an old pair of boots in colour like his 
 hat, and about as old. His bridle is also ex- 
 ceedingly curious; to the head of it is fixed a blind, 
 which, in case of taking fright or starting, can be 
 dropped over the horse’s eyes, and be drawn up 
 again at pleasure. 
 
 Many have been the insults and rude attacks of 
 
IG PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 f he ignorant and vulgar mob, at different times, 
 upon this extraordinary man; and instances have 
 occurred of these personal attacks terminating 
 seriously to the audacious offender. One man, 
 we remember, had the extreme audacity to take 
 this venerable character by the beard; in return, he 
 received a blow from the injured gentleman, with 
 an umbrella, that had nearly broken a rib. 
 
 We shall now endeavor to exhibit his remark- 
 able turn for singularity, by his writings, as pub- 
 lished at different times in the public prints, and 
 affording entertainment for the curious: 
 
 “Corresponding — Lads — Remember Judas : — 
 And the year 80 ! Last Monday Morning, at 
 7 o'clock, Doctor Merryman, of Queen-street, May- 
 fair, presented Elizabeth, the wife of Martin Van 
 Butchell, with her Fifth fine Boy, at his House in 
 Mount-street, Grosvenor Square, and — they — - 
 are — all — well — . Post Master General for Ten 
 Thousand Pounds ( — we mean Gentlemen’s — not a 
 Penny less — ) I will soon construct — such Mail- 
 Coach — Perch — Bolts as shall never break ! 
 
 To many I refer — for my character: Each will 
 have grace — to write his case ; soon as he is well — 
 an history tell; for the public good; — to save hu- 
 man blood, as — all — true — folk — should. Sharkish 
 
 people may — keep themselves away, Those 
 
 that use me ill — I never can heal ; being forbidden — 
 to cast pearls to pigs; lest — they — turn — and — tear. 
 Wisdom makes dainty: patients come to me, with 
 heavy guineas, — between ten and one; but — I — go — 
 to — none." 
 
 Mender of Mankind; in a manly way. 
 
 In another advertisement, he says : 
 
 “That your Majesty’s Petitioner is a British 
 Christian Man, aged fifty-nine — with a comely 
 
JOHN STATHAM. 
 
 17 
 
 beard — full eight inches long. That your Maj- 
 esty’s Petitioner was born in the County of Middle- 
 sex — brought up in the County of Surrey — and 
 has never been out of the Kingdom of England. 
 That your Majesty’s Petitioner ( — about ten years 
 ago — ) had often the high honor ( — before your 
 Majesty’s Nobles — ) of conversing with your 
 Maj esty ( — face to face — ) when we were hunt- 
 ing of the stag — on Windsor forest.” 
 
 “ British Christian Lads ( — Behold — now is the 
 day — of Salvation. Get understanding ; as the 
 highest gain. — ) Cease looking boyish ; — become 
 quite manly ! — ( Girls are fond of hair: it is 
 natural . — ) Let your beards grow long: that ye 
 may be strong: — in mind — and body: as were 
 great grand dads: — Centuries ago; when John did 
 not owe — a single penny: more than — he — could 
 —pay.” 
 
 Many more equally whimsical advertisements 
 might be selected, and many additional anecdotes 
 might be told of him; but what we have here re- 
 corded concerning this complete original may be 
 depended upon: not one word of which is con- 
 trary to truth. 
 
 PARTICULARS RELATING TO 
 
 JOHN STATHAM, 
 
 Ji remarkable blind young man, well known about the 
 
 streets of London. 
 
 It seems that this extraordinary character was 
 born blind, above the year 1768. Having been 
 deprived of his father, whilst very young, he was 
 taken care of by his father-in-law, a brassfounder; 
 and, early in life, habituated to attend very con- 
 
18 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS 
 
 stantlyithe public worship of the church of England; 
 but it appears, the visits he then made to places of 
 worship were more from the authority of his father- 
 in-law, than from any relish he had for the benefit 
 of assembling amongst religious people: on the 
 contrary, he was averse to the practice of going to 
 church, and therefore it is not to be wondered at, 
 that he should be found at length professing openly, 
 by words and actions, similar dislike even to re- 
 ligion itself. But his continuance in these sen- 
 timents was suddenly changed, in accidentally 
 
JOHN STATHAM. 
 
 19 
 
 meeting with the Countess of Huntingdon’s 
 Hymns, and the preaching of a gentleman at Spa 
 Fields Chapel, so that he became more and more 
 enraptured with the sublime doctrines of the Gospel; 
 and has ever since constantly attended upon the 
 dissenting meetings. And though blind, he does 
 not walk in darkness, like too many professing 
 Christians, “ who have eyes, but see not.” 
 
 Those who have the use of their sight, and have 
 been constantly resident in London, are not better 
 acquainted with the town than poor Statham. 
 With astonishing precision, he finds his way, from 
 street to street, and from house to house, supply- 
 ing his customers with the various periodical pub- 
 lications that he carries; and this only by the 
 means of an extraordinary retentive memory. His 
 constant companion being a stick, whereby he 
 feels his way. Such is his care and recollection, 
 that he has never been known to lose himself. 
 
 Whilst living with his father-in-law, he paid 
 great attention to the brass foundery business, and 
 still remembers the process of that art. On the 
 death of his father-in-law, poor Statham became 
 possessed of a very small freehold estate: the pro- 
 duce of which is, however, so trifling, that were 
 it not for the occasional assistance of benevolent 
 persons, and his little magazine walk, the wants 
 of nature could not be supplied. He uses every 
 exertion within his power to increase his weekly 
 pittance; but the cruelty exercised upon him by 
 inconsiderate people has, at different times, given 
 him severe pain and bitter disappointment: the in- 
 humanity we allude to, is that of sending him or 
 ders for magazines to be taken to places, several 
 miles distant, which when purchased and conveyed 
 to the fictitious place, he has been told, “No 
 such books have been ordered nor is there any 
 
20 
 
 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 \ 
 
 one of that name lives here.” Now if the persons 
 so treating a poor defenceless man, only reflected 
 a moment, at least they would forbear the shame- 
 ful exercise of such wanton cruelty. 
 
 As we have hinted at the strength of his memo- 
 ry, we will now produce some facts to substantiate 
 the truth. He can repeat all the Church of Eng- 
 land service, and a great part of the Old and New 
 Testament; some particular portions of Scripture 
 which he considers remarkably striking he delivers 
 with peculiar emphasis; besides the recollection 
 of Lady Huntingdon’s Hymns. Every sermon he 
 hears he will go over, when returned home, with 
 astonishing precision. 
 
 Equal to his retentive memory is his ingenuity, 
 possessing an extensive knowledge of metals, cop- 
 per, tin, brass, pewter, &c. &c. He can like- 
 wise tell if pinchbeck is or not a good mixture of 
 copper and brass of equal proportion! 
 
 And no less remarkable is his retention of hear- 
 ing. We remember upon a time, a person only 
 having been once in his company, and after an 
 absence of some months the same gentleman paid 
 him a second visit: poor Statham immediately 
 looked to the spot from whence the voice proceed- 
 ed, and having repeatedly turned his head, with- 
 out any further information, instantly addressed 
 the gentleman he recollected. 
 
 It appears he is extremely fond of music, and 
 what is called spiritual singing. His mode of liv- 
 ing is always regular and frugal; strong liquors, 
 so much used by the poor of this country, are by 
 him religiously abstained from. These circum- 
 stances cause him to receive the advantages of a 
 
 regular good state of health, and that cheerfulness 
 of mind and patience in suffering so very conspicu 
 ous in his character. 
 
ANNE LONGMAN. 
 
 21 
 
 Since the above account was written, this un- 
 fortunate individual was found, by the road side, 
 near Bagnigge-Wells, frozen to death, on Christ- 
 mas morning, December 25th, 1808, having lost 
 his way in that memorably severe storm of frost 
 and snow, of Christmas eve of that year. 
 
 ANNE LONGMAN, singer and musician. 
 
 We have now to take notice of a female who 
 never fails to attract particular notice; she is 
 mostly attended by a crowd: with the assistance of 
 
22 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 a musical instrument, called a guitar, she adds her 
 own voice, which, combined with the instrument, 
 has a very pleasing effect. 
 
 A decent modesty is conspicuous in this person, ' 
 more so than in any other we have ever witnessed 
 following so humble a calling. She is wife to a 
 soldier in the foot-guards, and lost her sight by 
 suckling twin children, who are sometimes with 
 her, conducted by a girl, who seems engaged to 
 assist the family both at home and out of doors. 
 Cleanliness, at all times the nurse of health, is fcy 
 nine-tenths of the poor of this land banished exist- 
 ence, as if it were matter of misery to be distin- 
 guished by a clean skin and with clean clothes; 
 now this rarity, we speak of, is amply possessed 
 by Anne Longman, and though not quite so con- 
 spicuous in this particular as Ann Siggs, yet she 
 lays strong claim to pity and charitable sympathy. 
 
 It cannot be supposed that her husband, possess- 
 ing only the salary arising from the situation of a 
 private in the foot-guards, can support, without 
 additional assistance, himself, his wife quite blind, 
 and a family of four children, without encountering 
 some severe trials and difficulties; so that, upon 
 the whole, it is a matter of satisfaction and plea- 
 sure to find, that, incumbered as she is, some ad- 
 dition is made to their support through the inno- 
 cent means of amusing the surrounding spectators 
 by her melody. 
 
John and Robert green. 
 
 23 
 
 JOHN AND ROBERT GREEN, 
 
 THE WANDERING MINSTRELS. 
 
 These pedestrians form a singular sight; twins 
 in birth, and partners in misfortunes in life; they 
 came into the world blind; and blind are compelled 
 to wade their way through a world of difficulties 
 and troubles. - *■ 
 
 Though nothing very remarkable can be record- 
 ed of them, yet there is something in their looks 
 and manners that at least renders them conspicu- 
 ous characters. 
 
 They are continually moving from village to 
 
24 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS 
 
 village, from town to town, and from city to city, 
 never omitting to call upon London, whether out- 
 ward or homeward bound. It is observable, how- 
 ever, they never play but one tune, which may 
 account for their not stopping any length of time 
 in one place. For upwards of twenty years they 
 have always been seen together. 
 
 John and Robert Green are visitors at most 
 country fairs, particularly at the annual Statute 
 Fair, held at Chipping Norton, which they never 
 fail to attend; and at this place, it appears, they 
 were born. 
 
 When in London, they are always noticed with 
 a guide ; and as soon as the old harmony is finished, 
 one takes hold of the skirt of the other’s coat, and 
 in that manner proceed until they again strike up 
 the regular tune. We are inclined to think the 
 charity bestowed upon them is not given as a 
 , retaining fee, but rather to get rid of a dissonance 
 and a discord which, from continual repetition, 
 becomes exceedingly disagreeable; though in this 
 manner they pick up a decent subsistence. 
 
 TOM AND HIS PIGEONS, 
 
 A NOTED CHARACTER, ABOUT ST. PAULAS CHURCH- 
 YARD, &.C. 
 
 Thomas Sugden seems determined to distin- 
 guish himself from the rest of his brethren, by 
 carrying two pigeons upon his shoulders, and one 
 upon his head; healthy and fine birds continue so 
 but a little time with him. He is the dirtiest 
 among the dirty; and his feathered companions 
 soon suffer from this disgusting propensity; ono 
 week reduces their fine plumage and health to a 
 
TOM AND HIS PIGEONS. 
 
 25 
 
 Wei with the squalid and miserable appearance 
 of their master, whose pockets very often contain 
 the poor prisoners, to be ready to bring them forth 
 at the first convenient stand he thinks it most to 
 his advantage to occupy; and from this mode of 
 conveyance are they indebted for broken feathers, 
 dirt, &c. 
 
 Sugden, a native of Yorkshire, lost his sight in 
 a dreadful storm, on board the Gregson merchant- 
 man, Capt. Henley, commander: the particulars 
 he sometimes relates, and attributes his misfor- 
 
 3 
 
26 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 tunes to an early neglect of parental admonition, 
 when nothing but sea could serve his turn. He 
 addresses his younger auditors upon this subject, 
 and remonstrates with them on the advantage of 
 obedience to their parents. 
 
 ROGER SMITH. 
 
 Elevated as the bell-ringing tribe are above 
 this humble creature, the correct manner of his 
 ringing, with hand-bells, various peals and song 
 
GEORGE ROMONDO . *7 
 
 tunes, would puzzle the judgments of a very large 
 portion of regular-bred belfry idlers. 
 
 Numbers of persons have attended upon his per- 
 formance, particularly when his self-constructed 
 belfry was in existence, near Broad Wall, Lam- 
 beth, containing a peal of eight bells, from which 
 he obtained a tolerable livelihood. Here he was 
 soon disturbed, and obliged to quit, to make way 
 for some building improvement. He has ever 
 since exercised his art in most public places, on 
 eight, ten, and sometimes twelve bells, for upwards 
 of twenty-four years. He frequently accompanies 
 the song tunes with his voice, adding considerably 
 to the effect, though he has neither a finished nor 
 powerful style of execution. While he performs 
 uponthe hand-bells (which he does sitting), he wears 
 a hairy cap, to which he fixes two bells; two he 
 holds in each hand; one on each side, guided by a 
 string connected with the arm; one on each knee; 
 and one on each foot. It appears, he originally 
 came from the city of Norwich, and was employed 
 as a weaver in that place some years, but, having 
 (from a cold) received an injury to his sight, re- 
 signed his trade for the profession which necessity 
 now compels him to follow. 
 
 GEORGE ROMONDO, 
 
 Well knoivn for his imitative abilities and grotesque 
 
 appearance. 
 
 It seems the important study of ass-braying, 
 wild-boar grunting, and the cry of hungry pigs, 
 has engaged for some years the attention of this 
 original. In addition to these harmonious and 
 delightful sounds, another description of melody he 
 
$8 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS 
 
 succesfully performs, which is on the trumpet 
 French horn, drum, &c. 
 
 An Italian took a fancy to his wonderful inge- 
 nuity, and had him imported into England. As 
 an inducement to obtain George’s consent to leave 
 the city of Lisbon, in Portugal, the place of his 
 nativity, ne was most flatteringly assured of 
 making his fortune. 
 
 Romondo took shipping for England, safely 
 arrived in London early in the year 1800; and 
 soon after commenced operations in a caravan 
 
GEORGE ROMONDO. 
 
 29 
 
 drawn by horses, nearly resembling those used by 
 the famous Pidcock, for the travelling of his wild 
 beasts up and down the country. In this manner 
 Romondo began making a toir of England, 
 from fair to fair, under the style and title of 
 “ The Little Man of the Mountain.” He 
 now became alternately pig, boar, and ass, for the 
 Italian’s profit, with an allowance of 2s. 6d, per 
 day, for himself. It is natural to suppose such a 
 speculation could not be attended with success; 
 the event actually turned out so; and after some 
 time it was given up, and our poor mountain hero 
 left by this cunning Italian, to shift for himself. 
 
 He, however, soon after commenced operations 
 upon his own account, and continues to this day to 
 exercise his surprising talents ! 
 
 He is about forty-three years of age, wears a 
 cocked hat, drooping a prodigious length over his 
 shoulders, completely in the fashion of a dustman 
 or coalheaver, and with a coat actually sweeping 
 the ground. In height he is about three feet six 
 inches ; his legs and thighs appear like a pair of 
 callipers; he is said to be, in temper, very good 
 natured; and is very fond of the ladies, often 
 kissing their elbows, which come exactly parallel 
 with his lips, as he walks the streets of London; 
 and in exchange, many a box on the ear has 
 been received, with apparent good nature. At 
 particular times, he is seen in his full dress, with a 
 round fashionable hat, white cotton stockings, and 
 red. slippers. 
 
 3 * 
 
 * 
 
 
 
PORTRAITS OF GURIOUf 
 
 TOBY, 
 
 A CONSPICUOUS NEGRO. 
 
 Ji frequent visitor about the streets of London. 
 
 From the unintelligible crying jargon this man 
 utters, while supplicating charity, one would be 
 induced to suppose him ignorant of the English 
 language; but he posseses, at least, as perfect a 
 knowledge of it as most persons in his humble 
 sphere. 
 
 The use of his own native language is of great 
 advantage to him, in exciting the pity and fixing 
 
TOBY. 
 
 31 
 
 the attent >f the passenger; and is, besides, a 
 great ind.i: i.nent to many to extend their charity to 
 this apparently distressed stranger. Indeed he 
 exercises e/ery art, and leaves no method untried, 
 to work upon the various dispositions of those he 
 supplicates. Very often he will preach to the 
 spectators gathered round him, presuming frequent* 
 ly to make mention of the name of Jesus; and, 
 sometimes, he will amuse another sort of auditors 
 with a song; and when begging, he always appears 
 bent double, as if with excessive pain and fatigue. 
 But here again is another deception and trick of a 
 very shallow manufacture: for the same day we 
 have seen hint, when outward-bound, in the morn- 
 ing, so bent double as with a fixed affliction; but 
 on his return home in the evening, after the busi- 
 ness of the day is closed, this black Toby reverses 
 his position, lays aside all his restraints, walks 
 upright, and with as firm a step as the nature of his 
 loss will allow, begins talking English, and ceases 
 preaching. To all appearance, a daily and uni- 
 versal miracle appears to be wrought; for scarcely 
 are he and his jovial companions assembled to- 
 gether in one place and with one accord or 
 rather scarcely has liquor appeared upon the table, 
 than the blind can see — the dumb speak — the deaf 
 hear — and the lame walk ! Here, indeed, as 
 Pope has said, one might 
 
 “ See the blind beggar dance, the cripple sing: ” 
 
 Or, as he has neatly said upon a more solemn 
 occasion, 
 
 ** Hear the dumb sing; the lame his crutch forego, 
 
 “ And leap, exulting, like the bounding roe.” 
 
 To descend from the imitations of these poetr 
 
32 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 strains, we add, that to such assemblies* as those 
 just described, Toby is a visiting member, and - 
 is frequently called upon from the chair to amuse 
 the company; and as a beggar’s life is avowedly 
 made up of extremes, from these midnight revels, 
 he adjourns to a miserable two-penny lodging, 
 where, with the regular return of the morning, as 
 a carpenter putteth on his apron, or as a trowel is 
 taken into the hand of a bricklayer; even so 
 Black Toby, laying aside all the freaks of the 
 evening, again sallies forth in quest of those ob- 
 jects of credulity, that will ever be found in a pop- 
 ulation so extensive as that of this metropolis. v 
 
 Toby was employed on board a merchantman, 
 bound from Bermuda to Memel, and in the voy- 
 
 * From some such meetings as these, we suppose the follow- 
 ing circular club letter to have been issued: 
 
 “ The company of all mumpers, cadjers, match-makers, dan- 
 delion-diggers, dragon-fogrum-gatherers, water-cress-fishers, and 
 others, is earnestly requested, to-morrow evening, at the Oid 
 Blind Beak’s head, in Dyot-street, St. Giles’s, at 9 o’clock pre- 
 cisely. As the house has been altered, the company will be 
 accommodated with a large room up stairs; but those who are 
 not really lame, are desired to leave their sticks and crutches at 
 the bar, to prevent mischief. After the admission of new mem- 
 bers, the president will give directions from the chair, for avoid- 
 ing beadles and all other unlucky persons: point out, for the 
 benefit of country members, the best parts for strolling, the 
 method of making artificial sores, &c. 
 
 “ Mr. Nick Froth, the landlord, also informs his friends and 
 customers, that, on account ot the many evening lectures and 
 methodist meetings, in the winter season, the club will 
 meet an hour later than usual. He will also allow sprats to be 
 boiled on the tap-room fire, let his boy fetch hogs’ maws and 
 sheeps’ heads. — And that he likewise sends strong beer in 
 white jugs or black tin pots (out of a blind) to any of the stands, 
 at a reasonable distance from his house. — 
 
 “ N. B. A good stand to let, now occupied by a person 
 who is under the necessity of going into the Lock Hospital. s ’ 
 
SIR JOHN DINELY 
 
 S3 
 
 age, from the severity of the weather aud change 
 of climate, lost the whole of his toes in the pas- 
 sage. From Memel, he found his way to England, 
 on board the Lord Nelson privateer, and ever 
 since has supported himself by the improper char- 
 ity he receives from begging. 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE FAMOUS 
 
 Sir JOHN DINELY, Baronet, 
 
 One of the knights of Windsor. 
 
 “ Take him for all in all, - 
 “ We ne’er shall look upon his like again.” 
 
 Sir John Dinely is descended from a very il- 
 lustrious family, which continued to flourish in 
 great repute in Worcestershire, till the late centu- 
 ry, when they expired in the person of Sir Edward 
 Dinely, Knight. 
 
 The present heroic Sir John Dinely has, how- 
 ever, made his name conspicuous by stepping into 
 a new road of fancy, by his poetic effusions, by 
 his curious advertisements for a wife, and by the 
 singularity of his dress and appearance. 
 
 Sir John now lives at Windsor, in one of the 
 habitations appropriated to reduced gentlemen 
 of his description. His fortune he estimates 
 at three hundred thousand pounds, if he could re- 
 cover it! 
 
 In dress, Sir John is no changeling; for nearly 
 twenty years past he has been the faithful resem- 
 blance of the engraving accompanying this ac- 
 count. He is uncommonly loquacious, his con- 
 versation is overcharged with egotism, and such a 
 mixture of repartee and evasion, as to excite 
 
34 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 doubts, in the minds of superficial observers, as to 
 the reality of his character and abilities. With 
 respect to his exterior, it is really laughable to 
 observe him, when he is known to be going to 
 some public place to exhibit his person ; he is then 
 decked out with a full-bottomed wig, a velvet em- 
 broidered waistcoat, satin breeches and silk stock- 
 ings. On such occasions as these, not a little 
 inflated with family pride, he seems to imagine him- 
 self as great as any lordling: but on the day 
 
SIR JOHN DINELY. 
 
 35 
 
 following, he may be seen slowly pacing from the 
 chandler’s shop with a penny loaf in one pocket, 
 a morsel of butter, a quatern of sugar, and a three- 
 farthing candle in the other. 
 
 He is still receiving epistles in answer to his 
 advertisements, and several whimsical interviews 
 and ludicrous adventures have occurred in conse- 
 quence. He has, more than once, paid his ad- 
 dresses to one of his own sex, dressed as a fine 
 lady: at other times, when he has expected to see 
 his fair enamorata at a window, he has been rude- 
 ly saluted with the contents of very different com- 
 pliments. One would suppose these accidents 
 would operate as a cooler, and allay in some de- 
 gree the warmth of his passion. But our heroic 
 veteran still triumphs over every obstacle, and 
 the heyday of his blood still beats high; as maybe 
 seen by the following advertisement for a wife, in 
 the Reading Mercury, May 24, 1802: 
 
 “ Miss in her Teens — let not this sacred offer 
 escape your eye. I now call all qualified ladies, 
 marriageable, to chocolate at my house every day 
 at your own hour. — With tears in my eyes, I 
 must tell you, that sound reason commands me to 
 give you but one month’s notice before I part with 
 my chance of an kifant baronet forever: for you 
 may readily hear that three widows and old maids, 
 all aged above fifty, near my door, are now pulling 
 caps for me. Pray, my young charmers, give me 
 a fair hearing; do not let your avaricious guardians 
 unjustly fright you with a false account of a for- 
 feiture, but let the great Sewel and Rivet’s opin- 
 ions convince you to the contrary; and that I am 
 now in legal possession of these estates; and with 
 the spirit of an heroine command my three thousand 
 pounds, and rank above half the ladies in our im- 
 
36 PORTRAITS OF CURIOtTS CHARACTERS. 
 
 perial kingdom. By your ladyship’s directing a 
 favorable line to me, Sir John Dinely, Baronet, 
 at my house in Windsor Castle, your attorney will 
 satisfy you, that, if I live but a month, eleven 
 thousand pounds a year will be your ladyship’s 
 for ever.” 
 
 Sir John does not forget to attend twice or 
 thrice a year at Vauxhall and the theatres, accord- 
 ing to appointments in the most fashionable daily 
 papers. He parades the most conspicuous parts 
 of Vauxhall, and is also seen in the front row of 
 the pit in the theatres; whenever it is known 
 he is to be there, the house is sure, especially by 
 the females, to be well attended. Of late, Sir 
 John has added a piece of stay-tape to his wig, 
 which passes under his chin; from this circum- 
 stance, some persons might infer that he is rather 
 chop-fallen; an inference by no means fair, if we 
 still consider the gay complexion of his advertise- 
 ments and addresses to the ladies. 
 
 PARTICULARS CONCERNING THE 
 
 POLITE GROCERS OF THE STRAND 
 
 “ Brother John and I.” 
 
 Our engraving represents two singular charac- 
 ters, whose eccentric humor is well worthy of the 
 attention of the curious. Messrs. Aaron and 
 John Trim are grocers, living at No. 449, Strand, 
 nearly opposite to Villier’s-street; at this shop 
 curiosity would not be disappointed of the ex- 
 pected gratification, from the personal appearance 
 of the two gentlemen behind the counter, if there 
 was nothing else to strike the attention. One of 
 
37 
 
 THE POLITE GROCERS. 
 
 the gentlemen is so short, as frequently to be 
 under the necessity of mounting the steps to serve 
 his customers. And the shop itself displays no 
 common spectacle: a dozen pair of scales are 
 strewed from one end of the counter to the other, 
 mingled with large lumps of sugar and various 
 other articles; the floor is so completely piled 
 with goods, one upon the. other, and in all parts 
 so covered that there is passage sufficient but for 
 
 4 
 
 i 
 
 L 
 
38 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 one person at a time to be served; and we believe 
 there is no shop in the neighborhood so much fre- 
 quented, although there are a great many in the 
 same business within twb hundred yards of A. and 
 J. Trim. Their shop is remarkable for selling 
 what is termed “ a good article .” These gentle- 
 men exercise the greatest attention to their custom- 
 ers, and such good humor and urbanity of man- 
 ners, as to be characterised the “Polite Gro- 
 cers.” They were ’born in the same house in 
 which they now live, and have remained there 
 ever since; and where their father, a man well 
 esteemed, died some years back, leaving the busi- 
 ness to his sons, with considerable property. 
 
 The church of England never had more regular 
 attenders upon its ministry and forms of worship 
 than in the persons of Messrs. Aaron and John 
 Trim, whose attendance at the public worship, at 
 St. Martin’s, in the Strand, is as regular with 
 them as the neglect and desertion is common by 
 the generality of its members. 
 
 The whole of the business of the Polite Grocers 
 is conducted by themselves, with now and then 
 the assistance of a young woman, who appears 
 principally to have the management of the Two 
 penny-post; and from the extent of their trade, 
 the smallness of their expenses, and their frugality, 
 it is generally supposed they must be rich; but 
 though extremely talkative upon any other sub- 
 ject, yet on every point relating to themselves, 
 and their private concerns, they very properly 
 maintain the most impenetrable closeness and re- 
 serve. 
 
 Abounding as this age does with so many 
 temptations and examples of extravagance and 
 waste, it. requires no small portion of resolution to 
 
ANN JOHNSON. 
 
 39 
 
 maintain a due observance of economy, to be kept 
 from following the pulic current in its wasteful 
 fashions and extravagant expenses. Now, that 
 the Polite Grocers maintain this economy, cannot 
 be doubted ; and which, in the present situation 
 of things, must be considered no small virtue. 
 Economy without penuriousness, liberality without 
 prodigality ! 
 
 ANN JOHNSON, 
 
 The Holborn Lace Weaver, a blind woman. 
 
 Ann Johnson is a poor industrious widow, 
 cleanly, sober, and decent, inoffensive and hon- 
 
40 
 
 / 
 
 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 est, and quite blind. The engraved portrait of 
 this interesting figure may be depended upon for 
 its faithful representation of the much-to-be-pitied 
 original. She was born at Eaton, in Cheshire, 
 on St. Andrew’s day, old style, in the year 174°, 
 was apprenticed to a ribband weaver at the early 
 age of ten years, and was twenty-four years old 
 when she lost her sight, occasioned by a spotted 
 fevei. 
 
 Sitting exposed to the inclemency of hot and 
 cold, of wet and dry weather, for upwards of six 
 and twenty years, in the open streets of London, 
 might naturally undermine a constitution the most 
 vigorous and healthy. It certainly has considera- 
 bly affected Ann Johnson, whose regular appear- 
 ance, even in the bitterest days of winter, has been 
 as uniform as the finest in summer, on Holborn- 
 hill, upon the steps at the corner of Marmaduke 
 and Thomas Langdale’s house, the distillers. 
 Here she exhibits the expert manner in which she 
 makes laces, attracting the notice of the conside- 
 rate passenger: she is rendered additionally in- 
 teresting, by the cheerfulness of her conversation 
 and the serenity of her countenance, using words, 
 in effect, similar to the following bcautifu 1 lines: 
 
 “ Are not the ravens daily fed by thee? 
 
 And wilt thou clothe the lilies, and not me? 
 
 Begone distrust! — I shall have clothes and bread, 
 
 While lilies flourish, or the birds are fed.” 
 
 She resides at No. 5, Church-lane, Bloomsbury, 
 and has been an inhabitant of London upwards of 
 thirty-eight years. We particularly recommend 
 her to the considerate attention of*every little girl 
 or young woman, and, when they' are in want of 
 any laces, to think of Ann Johnson. — Such great 
 industry deserves encouragement. 
 
 
 
SAMUEL HORSEY 
 
 41 
 
 SAMUEL HORSEY,' . 
 
 A REMARKABLE MAN WITHOUT LEGS, 
 
 Ccdled the King of the Beggars. 
 
 Such as have seen this man in London (and 
 there are very few that have not) will be instantly 
 struck with the accuracy of the engraving. 
 
 He has literally rocked himself about London for 
 upwards of nineteen years, with the help of a 
 wooden seat, assisted by a short pair of crutches; 
 and the facility with which he moves is the more 
 singular, when we consider he is very corpulent; 
 he appears to possess remarkably good health, and 
 is about fifty-six years of age. In his life we have 
 no great deal to notice, as wonderful or remarka- 
 
 4* 
 
42 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 ble. His figure alone is what renders him a strik- 
 ing character; not striking for the height or bulk- 
 of his person, but for the mutilated singularity and 
 diminutive size so conspicuously attracting when 
 upon his move in the busiest parts of London 
 streets; in places that require considerable care, 
 even for persons well mounted upon legs, and pos- 
 sessing a good knowledge in the art of walking, to 
 get along without accidents; but even here poor 
 Samuel works his way, whilst buried, as it were, 
 with the press of the crowd, in a manner very ex- 
 peditious, and tolerably free from accidents, ex- 
 cept being tumbled over now and then by people 
 walking too much in haste. 
 
 MISS THEODORA DE YERDION, 
 
 COMMONLV KNOWN BY THE NAME OF CHEVALIER 
 JOHN THEODORA DE VERDION, 
 
 Who lived in London disguised as a man, a teacher 
 of languages and a walking bookseller. 
 
 This singular woman was born in the year 1744, 
 at Leipsic, in Germany, and died at her lodgings 
 in Upper Charles-street, Hatton-garden, London, 
 July 15, 1802. She was the only daughter of an 
 architect, of the name of Grahn, who erected sev- 
 eral edifices in the city of Berlin, particularly the 
 church of St. Peter. She wrote an excellent 
 hand, and had learned the mathematics, the French, 
 Italian, and English languages; and possessed a 
 complete knowledge of her native tongue. Upon 
 her arrival in England, she commenced teacher of 
 the German language, under the name of Dr. John 
 de Verdion In her exterior, she was extremely 
 grotesque, wearing a bag wig, a large cocked hat, 
 
MISS THEODORA DE VERDION. 
 
 43 
 
 three or four folio books under one arm, and an um- 
 brella under the other, her pockets completelyfilled 
 with small volumes, and a stick in her right hand. 
 
 She had a good knowledge of English books; 
 many persons entertained her for advice, relative 
 to purchasing them. She obtained a comfortable 
 subsistance from teaching and translating foreign 
 languages, and by selling books chiefly in foreign 
 literature. She taught the Duke of Portland the 
 German language, and was always welcomed to 
 his house; the Prussian Ambassador to our court 
 
44 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 received from her a knowledge of the English lan- 
 guage; and several distinguished noblemen she 
 frequently visited to instruct them in the French' 
 tongue; she jjlso taught Edward Gibbon, the cel- 
 ebrated Roman historian, the German language, 
 previous to his visiting that country. This ex- 
 traordinary female has never been known to have 
 appeared in any other but the male dress since 
 her arrival in England, where she remained up- 
 wards of thirty years; and upon occasions she 
 would attend at court, decked in very superb at- 
 tire; and was well remembered about the streets 
 of London; and particularly frequent in attending 
 book auctions, and would buy to a large amount, 
 sometimes a coach load, &c. Here her singular 
 figure generally made her the jest of the company. 
 
 Her general purchase at these sales was odd 
 volumes; which she used to carry to other book- 
 sellers, and endeavor to sell, or exchange for other 
 books. She was also a considerable collector of 
 medals and foreign coins of gold and silver; but 
 none of these were found after her decease. She 
 frequented the FurnivaPs Inn coffee house, in 
 Holborn, dining there almost every day; she 
 would have the first of every thing in season, and 
 was as strenuous for a large quantity, as she wag 
 dainty in the quality of what she chose for her 
 table. At times, it is well known, she could dis- 
 pense with three pounds of solid meat; and, we 
 are sorry to say, she was much inclined to extrav- 
 agant drinking. 
 
 The disorder of a cancer in her breast, occa- 
 sioned by falling down stairs, she was, after much 
 affliction, at length compelled to make known to a 
 German physician, who prescribed for her; when 
 
MISS THEODORA DE VERDION 
 
 45 
 
 the disorder turned to a dropsy, defied all cure, 
 
 and finished the career of so remarkable a lady. 
 
 ♦ 
 
 To follow lovers, women there have been 
 Disguis’d as men, who’ve dar’d the martial scene; 
 
 Or, in pursuit of an inconstant swain. 
 
 Experienc’d all the dangers of the main. 
 
 Not so De Verdion, for some other plan 
 She laid aside the woman for the man. 
 
 Perhaps she thought, that female garb and looks 
 111 spoke the gravity of German books; 
 
 That as a woman she could not pretend 
 To teach, translate, and literature to vend; 
 
 That as a woman she could never be 
 A Doctor, since ’tis man takes that degree : 
 
 Who can deny that a bag wig denotes 
 More sense, more consequence, than petticoats? 
 
 And probably our hero-heroine knew 
 That otherwise her nostrums would not do! 
 
 But haply Prudence urg’d this strange disguise, 
 
 (For in concealment modesty oft lies) 
 
 Assur’d she’d have to deal with wicked men. 
 
 She might have chose this metamorphose then; 
 
 And as poor women always weak are thought. 
 
 Security from men’s appearance sought; 
 
 Then let not ridicule insult her name, 
 
 For who can tell but virtue was her aim; 
 
 That she disclaim’d her sex through pious care. 
 
 And thus, ye fair ones, left a name that’s fair ; 
 
 For, nature’s common frailties set aside, 
 
 She liv’d a Christian, and a Christian died; 
 
 Nor man nor woman by attire is known, 
 
 The Proof of all will be the heart alone! 
 
48 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 DANIEL LAMBERT, 
 
 Aged Thirty -six Years. 
 
 ' The astonishing weight of this man is fifty stone 
 and upwards, being more than seven hundred 
 pounds; the surprising circumference of his body 
 is three yards four inches; his leg, one yard and an 
 inch; and his height, five feet eleven inches; and, 
 though of this amazing size, entirely free from any 
 corporeal defect. 
 
DANIEL LAMBERT. 
 
 47 
 
 This very remarkable personage received his 
 birth in Leicester; at which place he was ap- 
 prenticed to an engraver. Until he arrived at the 
 age of twenty years, he was not of more than 
 usual size, but after that period he began to increase 
 in bulk, and has been gradually increasing, until 
 within a few months of the present time. He was 
 much accustomed to exercise in the early years of 
 his life, and excelled in walking, riding and shooting ; 
 and more particularly devoted himself to field 
 exercises, as he found himself inclined to corpulen- 
 cy; but, to the astonishment of his acquaintance, it 
 proved not only unavailing, but really seemed to 
 produce a directly opposite effect. Mr. Lambert 
 is in full possession of perfect health; and whether 
 sitting, lying, standing, or walking, is quite at his 
 ease, and requires no more 'attendance than any 
 common-sized person. He enjoys his night’s 
 repose, though he does not indulge himself in bed 
 longer than the refreshment of sleep continues. 
 
 The following anecdote is related of him: — - 
 “ Some time since, a man with a dancing bear 
 going through the town of Leicester, one of Mr. 
 Lambert's dogs taking a dislike to his shaggy ap- 
 pearance, made a violent attack upon the defence- 
 less animal. Bruin’s master did not fail to take^ 
 the part of his companion, and, in his turn, began 
 to belabour the dog. Lambert, being a witness 
 of the fray, hastened with all possible expedition 
 from the seat or settle (on which he made a prac- 
 tice of sitting at his own door) to rescue his dog. 
 At this moment the bear, turning round suddenly, 
 threw’ down his unwieldy antagonist, who, from 
 terror and his own w r eight, w’as absolutely unable 
 to rise again, and with difficulty got rid of his 
 formidable opponent.’’ 
 
48 PORTRAITS GF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 He is particularly abstemious with regard to 
 diet, and for nearly twelve years has not taken any 
 liquor, either with or after his meals, but water 
 alone. His manners are very pleasing; he is well- 
 informed, affable, and polite; and having a manly 
 countenance and prepossessing address, he is 
 exceedingly admired by those who have had the 
 pleasure of conversing with him. His-strength (it 
 is worthy of observation) bears a near proportion 
 to his wonderful appearance. About eight years 
 ago, he carried more than four hundred weight and 
 a half, as a trial of his ability, though quite un- 
 accustomed to labor. His parents were not be- 
 yond the moderate size; and his sisters, who are 
 still living, are by no means unusually tall or large. 
 A suit of clothes cost him twenty pounds, so great 
 a quantity of materials are requisite for their 
 completion. 
 
 It is reported, that among those who have 
 recently seen him, was a gentleman weighing 
 twenty stone: he seemed to suffer much from his 
 great size and weight. Mr. Lambert, on his de- 
 parture, observed, that he would not (even were it 
 possible) change situations with him for ten thous- 
 and pounds. He bears a most excellent charac- 
 ter at his native town, which place he left, to the 
 regret of many, on Saturday, April 4, 1806, for 
 his first visit to London. 
 
 FROM THE STAMFORD PAPER, 
 
 Friday, June 23, 1809. 
 
 We have to announce the death of this celebrated 
 man, which took place in this town at half past 8 
 o'clock on Wednesday morning last. 
 
 Mr. Lambert had travelled from Huntingdon 
 hither in the early part of the week, intending to 
 
DANIEL LAMBERT. 
 
 49 
 
 receive the visits of the curious who might attend 
 the ensuing races. On Tuesday evening he sent 
 a message to the office of this paper, requesting 
 that, as “ the mountain could not wait upon 
 Mahomet, Mahomet would go to the mountain.” 
 Or, in other words, that the printer would call 
 upon him to receive an order for executing some 
 handbills, announcing Mr. Lambert’s arrival, and 
 his desire to see company. 
 
 The orders he gave upon that occasion were 
 delivered without any presentiment that they were 
 to be his last, and with his usual cheerfulness. 
 He was in bed — one of large dimensions — 
 (“ Ossa upon Olympus, and Pelion upon Ossa ”) 
 — fatigued with his journey; but anxious that the 
 bills might be quickly printed, in order to his seeing 
 company next morning. 
 
 Before nine o’clock on that morning, however, 
 he was a corpse ! Nature had endured all the 
 trespass^ she could admit: the poor man’s corpu- 
 lency had constantly increased, until, at the time 
 we have mentioned, the clogged machinery of life 
 stood still, and the prodigy of. Mammon was 
 numbered with the dead. 
 
 He was in his 40th year; and upon being 
 weighed, within a few days, by the famous Cale- 
 don’s balance, was found to be 52 stone 1 1 pounds 
 in weight (14lb. to the stone,) which is 10 stone 
 111b. more than the great Mr. Bright, of Essex, 
 ever weighed. — he had apartments at Mr. Ber- 
 ridge’s, the Waggon and Horses, in St. Martin’s, 
 on the ground floor — for he had been long incapa- 
 ble of walking up stairs. 
 
 His coffin, in which there has been great 
 difficulty of placing him, is 6 feet 4 inches long, 4 
 feet 4 inches wide, anjfl 2 feet 4 inches deep; the 
 
50 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 I 
 
 immense substance of his legs makes it necessarily 
 almost a square case. The celebrated sarcophagus 
 of Alexander, viewed with so much admiration at 
 the British Museum, would not nearly contain this 
 immense sheer bulk. 
 
 The coffin, which consists of 112 superficial 
 feet of elm, is built upon 2 axletrees and 4 cog 
 wheels; and upon these the remains of the poor man 
 will be rolled into his grave ; which we understand 
 is to be in the new burial-ground at the back of 
 St. Martin’s church. — A regular descent will be 
 made by cutting away the earth slopingly for some 
 distance — the window and wall of the room in 
 which he lies must be taken down to allow his 
 exit. — He is to be bfcried at 8 o’clock this morn- 
 ing- . 
 
 MARY JONES, 
 
 COMMONLY CALLED MAD MOLLY, 
 
 Well known about Cheapside, Neiv gate- Street, 
 Holborn-Bridge, dfc. fyc. 
 
 Whims wild and simple lead her from her home, 
 
 5 Mongst London’s alleys, streets, and lanes, to roam. 
 
 When morning wakes, none earlier rous’d than she, 
 
 Pity she claims and kind humanity. 
 
 Affliction sad hath chas’ d her hard, 
 
 Frailty her crime, and mis’ry her reward ! 
 
 Her mind’s serenity is lost and gone. 
 
 Her eyes grown languid, and she weeps alone. 
 
 And oft the gaily-passing stranger stays 
 His well-tim’d steps, and takes a silent gaze ; 
 
 Or hears repeated, as he passes nigh, 
 
 One short, but simple word, “ Good-by ! ” 
 
 A beauty once she was in life’ s gay mom ; 
 
 Fled now’s her beauty, and she’s left forlorn. 
 
 Once was she happy, calm, and free, 
 
 Now lives in woe, in rags, and misery. 
 
MARY JONES 
 
 A revolution too hath taken place, 
 
 In manners, actions, and grimace. 
 
 Unlawful love has marr’d her former peace, 
 
 Quick vanish’d hope ; and left her comfortless ! 
 
 She merits every kind protecting care : 
 
 Of generous bounty let her have her share. 
 
 Childish and trivial now are all her ways ; 
 
 In peace, oh ! let her live ; with comfort end her days. 
 
52 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 JOHN ELWES, ESQ. 
 
 Member in three successive Parliaments for Berkshire. 
 
 Meggot was the family name of Mr. Ehves; 
 and his name being John, the conjunction of Jack 
 Meggot induced strangers to imagine sometimes 
 that his friends were addressing him by an as- 
 sumed appellation. The father of Mr. Ehves was 
 an eminent brewer; and his dwelling-house and 
 offices were situated in Southwark; which bor- 
 ough was formerly represented in parliament by 
 his grandfather, Sir George Meggot. During his 
 life he purchased the estate now in possession of 
 the family of the Calverts, at Marcham, in Berk- 
 shire. The father died when the late Mr. Ehves 
 was only four years old; so that little of the sin- 
 gular character of Mr. Ehves is to be attributed 
 to him: but from the mother it may be traced with 
 ease: she was left nearly one hundred thousand 
 pounds by her husband, and yet starved herself to 
 death. The only children from the above mar- 
 riage, were Mr. Ehves, and a daughter, who 
 married the father of the late Colonel Timms; 
 and from thence came the entail of some part of 
 the present estate. 
 
 Mr. Elwes, at an early period of life, was sent 
 to Westminster School, where he remained ten or 
 twelve years. He certainly, during that time, 
 had not misapplied his talents; for he was a good 
 classical scholar to the last; and it is a circum- 
 stance very remarkable, yet well authenticated, 
 that he never read afterwards. Never, at any 
 period of his future life, was he seen with a book; 
 nor had he in all his different houses left behind 
 him two pounds worth of literary furniture. His 
 knowledge in accounts was little; and, in some 
 
JOHN ELWES. 
 
 53 
 
 measure may account for his total ignorance as to 
 his own concerns. The contemporaries of Mr. 
 Elwes, at Westminster, were Mr. Worsley, late 
 Master of the Board of W orks, and the late Lord 
 Mansfield; who, at that time, borrowed all that 
 young Elwes would lend. His lordship, how- 
 ever, afterwards changed his disposition. 
 
 Mr. Elwes from Westminster-school removed 
 to Geneva, where he shortly after entered upon 
 pursuits more congenial to his temper than study. 
 The riding-master of the academy had then three 
 of the best horsemen in Europe for his pupils: 
 Mr. Worsley, Mr. Elwes, and Sir Sidney Meadows. 
 Elwes of the three was accounted the most desper 
 ate: the young horses were put into his hands 
 always; and he was, in fact, the rough-rider of 
 the other two. He was introduced, during this 
 period, to Voltaire, whom, in point of appearance, 
 he somewhat resembled; but though he has often 
 mentioned this circumstance, neither the genius, 
 the fortune, nor the character, of Voltaire, ever 
 seemed to strike him as worthy of envy. 
 
 Returning to England, after an absence of two 
 or three years, he was to be introduced to his 
 uncle, the late Sir Harvey Elwes, who was then 
 living at Stoke, in Suffolk, the most perfect pic- 
 ture of human penury perhaps that ever existed. 
 In him the attempts of saving money was so ex- 
 traordinary, that Mr. Elwes never quite reached 
 them, even at the most covetous period of his 
 life. To this Sir Harvey Elwes he was to be the 
 heir, and of course it was policy to please him. 
 On this account it was necessary, even in old Mr. 
 Elwes, to masquerade a little; and as he was at 
 that time in the world, and its affairs, he dressed 
 like other people. This would not have done for 
 
 5 * 
 
54 PORTRAITS OF -CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 Sir Harvey. The nephew, therefore, used to stop 
 at a little inn at Chelmsford, and begin to dress in 
 character. A pair of small iron buckles, worsted 
 stockings darned, a worn out old coat, and a tat- 
 tered waistcoat, were put on; and forwards he 
 rode to visit his uncle; who used to contemplate 
 him with a kind of miserable satisfaction, and 
 seemed pleased to find his heir bidding fair to 
 rival him in the unaccountable pursuit of avarice. 
 There they would sit — saving souls! — with a sin- 
 gle stick upon the fire, and with one glass of wine, 
 occasionally, betwixt them, inveighing against the 
 extravagance of the times; # and when evening shut 
 in, they would immediately retire to rest — as 
 going to bed saved candle-light. 
 
 To the whole of his uncle’s property Mr. Ehves 
 succeeded; and it was imagined that his own was 
 not at the time very inferior. He got, too, an 
 additional seat; but he got it as it had been most 
 religiously delivered down for ages past : the fur- 
 niture was most sacredly antique: not a room was 
 painted, nor a window repaired: the beds above 
 stairs were all in canopy and state, where the 
 worms and moths held undisturbed possession; 
 and the roof of the house was inimitable for the 
 climate of Italy. 
 
 Mr. Elwes had now advanced beyond the for- 
 tieth year of his age; and for fifteen years previous 
 to this period it was that he was known in all the 
 fashionable circles of London. He had always a 
 turn for play; and it was only late in life, and 
 from paying always, and not always being paid, 
 that he conceived disgust at the inclination. 
 
 The acquaintances which he had formed at 
 Westminster-school, and at Geneva, together 
 with his own large fortune, all conspired to intro- 
 duce him into whatever society he liked best. 
 
JOHN ELWES. 
 
 55 
 
 Mr. Elwes, on the death of his uncle, came to 
 reside at Stoke,' in Suffolk. Bad as was the 
 mansion-house he found here, he left one still 
 worse behind him at Marcham, of which the late 
 Colonel Timms, his nephew, used to mention the 
 following proof. A few days after he went thither, 
 a great quantity of rain falling in the night, he 
 had not been long in bed before he found himself 
 wet through; and putting his hand out of the 
 clothes, found the rain was dropping from the 
 ceiling upon the bed. He got up and moved the 
 bed; but he had not lain long, before he found the 
 same inconveniency continued. He got up again, 
 and again the rain came down. At length, after 
 pushing the bed quite round the room, he retired 
 into a corner where the ceiling w’as better secured, 
 and there he slept till morning. When he met his 
 uncle at breakfast, he told him what had happened. 
 “Ay! ay! ” said the old man, seriously; “ I don’t 
 mind it myself; but to those that do, that’s a nice 
 corner in the rain.” 
 
 Mr. Elwes, on coming into Suffolk, first began 
 to keep fox-hounds; and his stable of hunters, at 
 that time, was said to be the best in the kingdom. 
 Of the breed of his horses he was certain, because 
 he bred them himself; and they were not broke in 
 till they were six years old. 
 
 The keeping of fox-hounds was the only in- 
 stance in the whole life of Mr. Elwes of his ever 
 sacrificing money to pleasure. But even here every 
 thing was done in the most frugal manner. His 
 huntsman had by no means an idle life of it. This 
 famous lackey might have fixed an epoch in the 
 history of servants; for, in a morning, getting up 
 at four o’clock, he milked the cows. He then 
 prepared breakfast for his master, or any friends 
 
56 
 
 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 lie might have with him. Then slipping on a 
 green coat, he hurried into the stable, saddled the . 
 horses, got the hounds out of the kennel, and 
 away they went into the field. After the fatigues 
 of hunting, he refreshed himself by rubbing down 
 two or three horses as quickly as possible; then 
 running into the house, would lay the cloth and 
 wait at dinner. Then hurrying again into the sta- 
 ble to feed the horses; diversified with an inter- 
 lude of the cows again to milk, the dogs to feed, 
 and eight horses to litter down for the night. 
 What may appear extraordinary, this man lived 
 in his place for some years; though his master 
 used often to call him “an idle dog !” and say, 
 
 “ the rascal wanted to be paid for doing nothing.” 
 
 An inn upon the road, and an apothecary’s bill, 
 were equal objects of aversion to Mr. Elwes. 
 The words “give” and “pay” were not found in 
 his vocabulary; and therefore, when he once re- 
 ceived a very dangerous kick from one of his 
 horses, who fell in going over a leap, nothing could 
 persuade him to have any assistance. He rode 
 the chase through, with his leg cut to the bone; 
 and it was only some days afterwards, when it was 
 feared an amputation would be necessary, that he 
 consented to go up to London, and, dismal day!, 
 part with some money for advice. 
 
 The whole fox-hunting establishment of Mr. 
 Elwes, huntsman, dogs, and horses, did not cost 
 him three hundred pounds a year! 
 
 While he kept hounds, and which consumed a 
 period of nearly fourteen years, Mr. Elwes almost 
 totally resided at Stoke, in Suffolk. He some- 
 times made excursions to Newmarket; but never 
 engaged on the turf. A kindness, however, which 
 he performed there, should not pass into oblivion 
 
JOHN ELWES. 
 
 51 
 
 Lord Abingdon, who was slightly known to 
 Mr. Elwes in Berkshire, had made a match for 
 seven thousand pounds, which, it was supposed, 
 he would be obliged to forfeit, from an inability to 
 produce the sum, though the odds were greatly in 
 his favor. Unasked, unsolicited, Mr. Elwes made 
 him an offer of the money, which he accepted, and 
 won his engagement. 
 
 On the day when this match was to be run, a 
 clergyman had agreed to accompany Mr. Elwes 
 to see the fate of it. They were to go, as was 
 his custom, on horseback, and were to set out at 
 seven in the morning. Imagining they were to 
 breakfast at Newmarket, the gentleman took no 
 refreshment, and away they went. -They reached 
 Newmarket about eleven, and Mr. Elwes began 
 to busy himself in inquiries and conversation till 
 twelve, when the match was decided in favor of 
 Lord Abingdon. He then thought they should 
 move off to the town, to take some breakfast; but 
 old Elwes still continued riding about till three: 
 and then four arrived. At which time the gentle- 
 man grew so impatient, that he mentioned some- 
 thing of the keen air of Newmarket Heath, and 
 the comforts of a good dinner “ Very true,” said 
 old Elwes; C£ very true. So here, do as I do; ” 
 — offering him at the same time, from his great- 
 coat pocket, a piece of an old crushed pancake, 
 “which,” he said, “he had brought from his 
 house at Marcham two months before — but that it 
 was as good as new.” 
 
 The sequel of the story was, that they did not 
 reach home till nine in the evening, when the gen- 
 tleman was so tired, that he gave up all refresh- 
 ment but rest; and old Mr. Elwes, havino- hazard- 
 ed seven thousand pounds in the morning, went 
 
58 PORTRAITS OP CURIOUS CHARACTERS 
 
 happily to bed with the reflection — that he had - 
 saved three shillings. 
 
 He had brought with him his two sons out of 
 Berkshire; and certainly, if he liked any thing it 
 was these boys. But no money would he lavish 
 on their education; for he declared that “putting 
 things into people’s heads, was taking money out 
 of their pockets.” 
 
 From this mean, and almost ludicrous, desire 
 of saving, no circumctance of tenderness or affec- 
 tion, no sentiment of sorrow or compassion, couid 
 turn him aside. The more diminutive the object 
 seemed, his attention grew the greater: and it ap- 
 peared as if Prvoidence had formed him in a 
 mould that was miraculous, purposely to exempli- 
 fy that trite saying, Pe>my ivise, and pound foolish. 
 
 From the parsimonious manner in which Mr. 
 Elwes now lived, (for he was fast following the 
 footsteps of Sir Harvey,) and from the two large 
 fortunes of which he was in possession, riches 
 rolled in upon him like a torrent. But as he knew 
 almost nothing of accounts, and never reduced his 
 affairs to writing, he was obliged, in the disposal 
 of his money, to trust much to memory; to the 
 suggestions of other people still more ; hence every 
 person who had a want or a scheme, with an ap- 
 parent high interest — adventurer or honest, it sig- 
 nified not — all was prey to him; and he swam 
 about like the enormous pike, which, ever vora- 
 cious and unsatisfied, catches at every thing, till 
 it is itself caught ! hence are to be reckoned visions 
 of distant property in America; phantoms of an- 
 nuities on lives that could never pay; and bureaus 
 filled with bonds of promising peers and members 
 long dismembered of all property. Mr. Elwes lost 
 in this manner full one hundred and fifty thousand 
 wounds ! 
 
JOHN ELWES. 
 
 59 
 
 I 
 
 But what was got from him, was only obtained 
 from his want of knowledge — by knowledge that 
 was superior; and knaves and sharpers might have 
 lived upon him, while poverty and honesty would 
 have starved. 
 
 When this inordinate passion for saving did not 
 interfere, there are upon record some kind offices 
 and very active services, undertaken by Mr. Elwes. 
 He would go far and long to serve those who ap- 
 plied to him: and give — however strange the word 
 from him — give himself great trouble to be of use. 
 These instances are gratifying to select — it is 
 plucking the sweet-briar and the rose from the 
 weeds that overspread the garden. 
 
 Mr. Elwes, at this period, was passing — among 
 his horses and hounds, s'ome rural occupations, 
 and his country neighbours — the happiest hours 
 of his life — where he forgot, for a time, at least, 
 that strange anxiety and continued irritation about 
 his money, which might be called the insanity of 
 saving ! But as his w r ealth was accumulating, 
 many were kind enough to make applications to 
 employ it for him. Some very obligingly would 
 trouble him with nothing more than their simple ‘ 
 bond: others offered him a scheme of great ad- 
 vantage, with ‘‘a small risk and a certain profit,” 
 'which as”certainly turned out to be the reverse; 
 and others proposed if tracts of land in America, 
 and plans that were sure of success.” But amidst 
 these kind offers, the fruits of which Mr. Elwes 
 long felt, and had to lament, some pecuniary ac- 
 commodations, at a moderate interest, wmre not 
 bestowed amiss, and enabled the borrow’ers to pur- 
 sue industry into fortune, and form a settlement 
 for life. 
 
 Mr. Elwes, from Mr. Meggot, his father, had 
 
60 rORTR AITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 inherited some property in London in houses; 
 particularly about the Haymarket, not far from 
 which old Mr. Elwes drew his first breath; being 
 born in St. James’s parish. To this property he 
 began now to add, by engagements with one of the 
 Adam’s about building, which he increased from 
 year to year to a very large extent. Great part 
 of Marybone soon called him her founder. Port- 
 man Place, and Portman Square, the riding- 
 houses and stables of the second troop of life-guards, 
 and buildings too numerous to name, all rose out 
 of his pocket; and had not the fatal American war 
 kindly put a stop to his rage of raising houses, 
 much of the property he then possessed would have 
 been laid out in bricks and mortar. 
 
 The extent of his property in this way soon grew 
 so great, that he became, from judicious calcula- 
 tion, his owninsurer; and he stood to all his losses 
 by conflagrations. He soon therefore became a 
 'philosopher upon fire: and, on a public house be- 
 longing to him being consumed, he said, with 
 great composure, “ Well, well, there is no great 
 harm done. The tenant never paid me, and I 
 should not have got quit of him so quickly in any 
 other way.” 
 
 It was the custom of Mr. Elwes, whenever he 
 went to London, to occupy any of his premises 
 which might happen to be then vacant. He tra- 
 velled in this manner from street to street; and 
 whenever any body chose to take the house where 
 he was, he was instantly ready to move into any 
 other. He was frequently an itinerant for a 
 night’s lodging ; and though master of above a hund- 
 red houses, he never wished to rest his head long- 
 in any he chose to call his own. A couple of 
 beds, a couple of chairs, a table, and an old 
 
JOHN ELWES. 
 
 61 
 
 woman, comprised all his furniture ; and he moved 
 them in about a minute’s warning. Of all these 
 moveables, the old woman was the only one 
 which gave him trouble; for she was afflicted with 
 a lameness, that made it difficult to get her about 
 quite so fast as he chose. And then the colds 
 she took were amazing; for at one time she was in 
 a small house in the Hay market; at another in a 
 great house in Portland Place; sometimes in a little 
 room with a coal fire; at other times with a few 
 chips, which the carpenters had left, in rooms of 
 most splendid, but frigid dimensions, and with a 
 little oiled paper in the windows for glass. 
 
 Mr. Elwes had come to town in his usual way, 
 and taken up his abode in one of his houses that 
 was empty. Colonel Timms, who wished much to 
 see him, by some accident was informed his 
 uncle was in London; but then how to find him 
 was the difficulty. He inquired at all the usual 
 places where it was probable he might be heard of. 
 He went to Mr. Hoare’s, his banker; to the 
 Mount Coffee-house; but no tidings were to be 
 heard of him. Not many days afterwards, how- 
 ever, he learnt, from a person whom he met 
 accidentally, that he had seen Mr. Elwes going into 
 an uninhabited lioyse in Great Marlborough 
 Street. This was some clue to Colonel Timms, 
 and away he went thither. As the best mode of 
 information, he got hold of a Chairman ; but no 
 intelligence could he gain of a gentleman called 
 Mr. Elwes. Colonel Timms then described his 
 person — but no gentleman had been seen. A pot- 
 boy, however, recollected, that he had seen a poor 
 old man opening the door of the stable, and 
 locking it after him, and from every description, it 
 agreed with the person of old Mr. Elwes. Of 
 
 6 
 
 ft 
 
62 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 course. Colonel Timms went to the house. He 
 knocked very loudly at the door : but no one 
 answered. Some of the neighbors said they had 
 seen such a man ; but no answer could be obtain- 
 ed from the house. The Colonel, on this, re- 
 solved to have the stable-door opened ; which 
 being done, they entered the house together. In 
 the lower parts of it all was shut and silent ; but, 
 on ascending the stair-case, they heard the moans 
 of a person seemingly in distress. They went to 
 the chamber, and there, upon an old pallet-bed, 
 
 lay stretched out, seemingly in the agonies of death, 
 the figure of old Mr. Ehves. For some time he 
 seemed insensible that any body was near him ; 
 
JOHN ELWES. 
 
 63 
 
 but on some cordials being administered by a 
 neighbouring apothecary, who was sent for, he 
 recovered enough to say, “That he* had, he be- 
 lieved, been ill for two or three days, and that there 
 was an old woman in the house; but for some 
 reason or other she had not been near him. That 
 she had been ill herself; but that she had got well, 
 he supposed, and was gone away.” 
 
 They afterwards found the old woman — the 
 companion of all his -"movements, and the partner 
 of ail his journeys — stretched out lifeless on a rug 
 upon the floor, in one of the garrets. She had 
 been dead, to all appearance, about two days. 
 
 Thus died the servant ; and thus would have died, 
 but for a providential discovery of him by Colonel 
 Timms, old Mr. Elwes, her master ! His mother, 
 Mrs. Meggot, who possessed one hundred thousand 
 pounds, starved herself to death; and her son, who 
 certainly was then worth half a million, nearly died 
 in his own house for absolute want. 
 
 Mr. Elwes, however, was not a hard landlord, 
 and his tenants lived easily under him: but if they 
 wanted any repairs, they were always at liberty to 
 do them for themselves; for what may be styled 
 the comforts of a house were unknown to him. 
 What he allowed not himself it could scarcely be 
 expected he would give to others. 
 
 He had resided about thirteen years in Suffolk, 
 when the contest for Berkshire presented itself on 
 the dissolution of parliament; and when, to preserve 
 the peace of that county, he was nominated by 
 Lord Craven. To this Mr. Elwes consented ; but 
 on the special agreement, that he was to be 
 brought in for nothing. All he did was dining at 
 the ordinary at Abingdon; and he got into parlia- 
 ment for the moderate sum of eighteen-pence. 
 
64 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 Mr. Elwes was at this time nearly sixty years 
 old, but was in possession of all his activity. 
 Preparatory to his appearance on the boards of St. 
 Stephen’s Chapel, he used to attend constantly, 
 during the races and other public meetings, all the 
 ^reat towns were his voters resided; and at the 
 different assemblies he would dance with agility 
 amongst the youngest to the last. 
 
 Mr. Elwes was chosen for Berkshire in three 
 successive parliaments: and he sat as a member of 
 the House of Commons above twelve years. It is 
 to his honour, that, in every part of his conduct, 
 and in every vote he gave, he proved himself to be 
 an independent country gentleman. 
 
 The honor of parliament made no alteration in 
 the dress of Mr. Elwes: on the contrary, it seemed, 
 at this time, to have attained additional meanness, 
 and nearly to have reached that happy climax of 
 poverty, which has, more than once, drawn on him 
 the compassion of those who passed him in the 
 street. For the Speaker’s dinners, he had indeed 
 one suit; with which the Speaker, in the course 
 of the session, became very familiar. The minister, 
 likewise, was well acquainted with it: and at any 
 dinner of Opposition, still was his apparel the same. 
 The wits of the minority used to say, “ that they - 
 had full as much reason as the minister to be satis- 
 fied with Mr. Elwes — as he had the same habit 
 with every body !” At this period of his life, Mr. 
 Elwes wore a wig. Much about that time, when 
 his parliamentary life ceased, that wig was worn 
 out: so then (being older and wiser as to expense) 
 he wore his own hair; which, like his expenses, 
 was very small. 
 
 He retired voluntarily from a parliamentary 
 life, and even took no leave of his constituents by 
 
/ 
 
 JOHN ELWES. 65 
 
 ♦ 
 
 an advertisement. But, though Mr. Elwcs was 
 now no longer a member of the House of Com- 
 mons, yet, not with the venal herd of expectant 
 placemen and pensioners, whose eyes too often 
 view the House of Commons as another Royal 
 Exchange,, did Mr. Elwes retire into private life. 
 No; he had fairly and honorably, attentively and 
 long, done his duty there, and he had so done it 
 without cc fee or reward.” In all his parliamenta- 
 ry life, he never asked or received a single favor; 
 and he never gave a vote, but he could solemnly 
 have laid his hand upon his breast, and said, “ So 
 help me God! I believe I am doing what is for the 
 best! ” 
 
 Thus, duly honored, shall the memory of a good 
 man go to his grave: for, while it may be the 
 painful duty of the biographer to present to the 
 public the pitiable follies which may deform a 
 character, but which must be given to render per- 
 fect the resemblance, — on those beauties which 
 arise from the bad parts of the picture, who shall 
 say, it is not a duty to expatiate? 
 
 The model which Mr. Elwes left to future mem- 
 bers may, perhaps, be looked on rather as a work 
 to wonder at than to follow, even under the most 
 virtuous of administrations. Mr. Elwes came 
 into Parliament without expense , and he performed 
 his duty as a member would have done in the 
 pure days of our constitution. What he had not 
 bought, he never attempted to sell; and he went 
 forward in that straight and direct pathfe, which can 
 alone satisfy a reflecting and good mind. In one 
 word, Mr. Elwes, as a public man, voted and 
 acted in the House of Commons, as a man would 
 do who felt there were people to live after him, 
 who wished to deliver unmortgaged to his children 
 
 6 '* 
 
66 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 ♦ 
 
 the public estate of government; and who felt, 
 that if he suffered himself to become a pensioner 
 on it, he thus far embarrassed his posterity, and 
 injured their inheritance. 
 
 When his son was in the Guards, he was fre- 
 quently in the habit of dining at the officers 5 table 
 there. The politeness of his manner rendered him 
 generally agreeable, and in time he became ac- 
 quainted with every officer in the corps. Amongst 
 the rest, was a gentleman of the name of Tempest, 
 whose good humor was almost proverbial. A 
 vacancy happening in a majority, it fell to this 
 gentleman to purchase; but as money is not always 
 to be got upon landed property immediately, it 
 was imagined that some officer would have been 
 obliged to purchase over his head. Old Mr. 
 Elwes hearing; of the circumstance, sent him the 
 money the next morning, without asking any se- 
 curity. He had seen Captain Tempest, and liked 
 his manners; and he never once afterwards talked 
 to him about the payment of it. But on the death 
 of Captain Tempest, which happened shortly after, 
 the money was replaced. 
 
 This was an act of liberality in Mr. Elwes which 
 ought to atone for many of his failings. But be- 
 hold the inequalities which so strongly mark this 
 human being! Mr. Spurling, of Dynes-Hall, a 
 very active and intelligent magistrate for the coun- 
 ty of Essex, was once requested by Mr. Elwes to 
 accompany him to Newmarket. It was a day in 
 one of the spring meetings which was remarkably 
 filled with races; and they were out from six in 
 the morning till eight o’clock in the evening before 
 they again set out for home. Mr. Elwes, in the 
 usual way, would eat nothing; but Mr. Spurling 
 was somewhat wiser, and went down to Newmar- 
 
JOHN E LAVES. 
 
 67 
 
 ket. When they began their journey home, the 
 evening was grown very dark and cold, and Mr. 
 Spurling rode on somewhat quicker; but on going 
 through the turnpike by the Devil’s Ditch, he 
 heard Mr. Elwes calling to him with great eager- 
 ness. On returning before he had paid, Mr. 
 Elwes said, “ Here! here! follow" me — this is the 
 best road! ” In an instant he saw Mr. Elwes, as 
 •well as the night would permit, climbing his horse 
 up the precipice of the ditch. “ Sir,” said Mr. 
 Spurling, “ I can never get up there.” “ No 
 danger at all !” replied old Elwes: “but if your 
 horse be not safe, lead him! ” At length, with 
 great difficulty, and with one of the horses falling, 
 they mounted the ditch, and then, with not less 
 toil got down on the other side. When they were 
 safely landed on the plain, Mr. Spurling thanked 
 heaven for their escape. “Ay,” said old Elwes, 
 “you mean from the turnpike: very right; never 
 pay a turnpike if you can avoid it! ” In proceed- 
 ing on their journey, they came to a very narrow 
 road: on which Mr. Elwes, notwithstanding the 
 cold, went as slow as possible. On Mr. Spurling 
 wishing to quicken their pace, old Elwes observed, 
 that he was letting his horse feed on some hay 
 that was hanging to the sides of the hedge. “ Be- 
 sides,” added he, “ it is nice hay, and you have it 
 for nothing ! ” 
 
 Thus, while endangering his neck to. save the 
 payment of a turnpike, and starving his horse for 
 a half-penny -worth of hay, was he risking the sum 
 of twenty-five thousand pounds on some iron works 
 across the Atlantic Ocean, and of which he knew 
 nothing, either as to produce, prospect, or situa- 
 tion. N 
 
 In the advance of the season, his morning 
 
68 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 employment was to pick up any stray chips, - 
 bones, or other things, to garry to the lire, in his 
 pocket; and he was one day surprised by a neigh- 
 boring gentleman in the act of pulling down, 
 with some difficulty,a crowds nest, for this purpose. 
 
 On the gentleman wondering why he gave him- 
 self this trouble, 
 
 “Oh, Sir,” replied he, “it i3 really a shame 
 that these creatures should do so. Do but see 
 what waste they make! ” 
 
 To save, as he thought, the expense of going to 
 a butcher, he would have a whole sheep killed, 
 
JOHN EL WES. 
 
 69 
 
 ancl so eat mutton to — the end of the chapter. 
 When he occasionally had his river drawn, 
 though sometimes horse-loads of small fish were 
 taken, not one would he suffer to be thrown in 
 again, for he observed, “ He should never see 
 them more! ” Game in the last state of putrefac- 
 tion, and meat that walked about his plate, would 
 he continue to eat, rather than have new thinos 
 killed before the old provision was exhausted. 
 
 When any friends, who might occasionally be 
 with him, were absent, he would Gainfully put out 
 his own fire, and walk to the house of a neighbor; 
 and thus make one fire serve both. His shoes he 
 never would suffer to be cleaned, lest they should 
 be worn out the sooner. But still, with all this 
 self-denial — that penury of life to which the inhab- 
 itant of an alms-house is not doomed — still did 
 he think he was profuse; and frequently said, <c he 
 must be a little more careful of his property.’’ 
 When he went to bed, he would put five or ten 
 guineas into a bureau, and then, full of his money, 
 after he had retired to rest, sometimes in the mid- 
 dle of the night, he would come down to see if it 
 was safe. The irritation of his mind was unceas- 
 ing. He thought every body extravagant; and 
 *> when a person was talking to him one day of the 
 
 great wealth of old Mr. Jennings, (who is sup- 
 posed to be worth a million,) and that they had 
 seen him that day in a new carriage, “Ay, ay,” 
 said old Elwes; “ he will soon see the end of his 
 money ! ” 
 
 Mr. Elwes now denied himself every thing, 
 except the common necessaries of life; and, in- 
 deed, it might have admitted a doubt, whether or 
 not, if his manors, his fish-ponds, and grounds 
 in his own hands, had not furnished a subsistence, 
 
 / 
 
70 
 
 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 where he had not any tiling actually to buy, he 
 would not, rather than have bought any thing, 
 have starved. He one day, during this period, 
 dined upon the remaining part of a moor-hen, 
 which had been brought out of the river by a rat! 
 and, at another, ate an undigested part of a pike, 
 which a larger one had swallowed, but had not 
 finished, and which was taken in this state in a 
 net! At the time this last circumstance happened, 
 he discovered a strange kind of satisfaction; for 
 he said to Ofcpt. Topham, who happened to be 
 present, “Ay! this is killing two birds with one 
 stone! ” Mr. Elwcs, at this time, was perhaps 
 worth nearly 800,0001. and at this period he had 
 not made his will, of course was not saving from 
 any sentiment of affection for any person. 
 
 As he had now vested the efiormous savings of 
 his property in the funds, he felt no diminution of 
 it. 
 
 Mr. Elwes passed the spring of 1786 alone, at 
 his solitary house at Stoke; and, had it not been 
 for some little daily scheme of avarice, would 
 have passed it without one consolatory moment. 
 His temper began to give way apace; his thoughts 
 unceasingly ran upon money! money! money! — 
 and he saw no one but whom he imagined was de- 
 ceiving and defrauding him. 
 
 As, in the day, he would not allow himself any 
 fire, he went to bed as soon as day closed, to save 
 candle; and had begun to deny himself even the 
 pleasure of sleeping in sheets. In short, he had 
 now nearly brought to a climax the moral of his 
 whole life — the perfect vanity of wealth! 
 
 On removing from Stoke, he went to his farm- 
 house at Thaydon Hall; a scene of more ruin and 
 desolation, if possible, than cither of his houses in 
 
JOHN ET.WES. 
 
 71 
 
 © 
 
 SufFolk or Berkshire. It stood alone, on the bor- 
 ders of Epping Forest; and an old man and wo- 
 man, his tenants, were the only persons with whom 
 he could hold any converse. Here he fell ill; and, 
 as he would have no assistance, and had not even 
 a servant, he lay, unattended, and almost forgot- 
 ten, for nearly a fortnight — indulging, even in 
 death, that avarice which malady could not sub- 
 due. It was at this period he began to think of 
 making his will; feeling, perhaps, that his sons 
 .would not be entitled, by law, to any part of his 
 property, should he die intestate: and, on coming 
 to London, he made his last will and testament. 
 
 Mr. Elwes, shortly after executing his will, 
 gave, by letter of attorney, the power of managing, 
 receiving, and paying all his moneys, into the 
 hands of Mr. Ingraham, his lawyer, and his young- 
 est son, John Elwes, Esq. who had been his chief 
 agents for some time. 
 
 Nor was the act by any means improper. The 
 lapses of his memory had now become frequent and 
 glaring. All recent occurrences he forgot entirely ; 
 and as he never committed any thing to writing, 
 the confusion he made was inexpressible. As an 
 instance of this, the following anecdote may serve. 
 He had, one evening, given a draft on Messrs. 
 Hoares, his bankers, for twenty pounds ; and hav- 
 ing taken it into his head, during the night, that 
 he had over-drawn his account, his anxiety was 
 unceasing. He left his bed, and walking about 
 his room with that little feverish irritation that al- 
 ways distinguished him, waited with the utmost 
 impatience till morning came, when, on going to 
 his banker, with an apology for the great liberty 
 he had taken, he was assured there was no occasion 
 for his apology, as he happened to have in their 
 
72 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 hands, at that time, the small sum of fourteen thou -% 
 sand seven hundred pounds ! 
 
 Mr. Elwes passed the summer of 1788 at his 
 house in Welbeck-Street, London, without any 
 other society than that of two maid servants: for 
 he had now given up the expense of keeping any 
 male domestic. His chief employment used to be 
 that of getting up early in the morning to visit his 
 houses in Marybone, which during the summer 
 were repairing. As he was there generally at four 
 o’clock in the morning, he was of course on the 
 spot before the workmen; and he used content- 
 edly to sit down on the steps before the door to 
 scold them when they did come. The neighbors, 
 who used to see him appear thus regularly every 
 morning, and who concluded, from his apparel, he 
 was one of the workmen, observed, “ there never 
 was so punctual a man as the old carpenter .” 
 During the whole morning he would continue to 
 run up and down stairs, to see the men were not 
 idle for an instant, with the same anxiety as if his 
 whole happiness in life had been centred in the 
 finishing this house, regardless of the greater pro- 
 perty he had at stake in various places, and for 
 ever employed in the mmutice only of affairs. In- 
 deed, such was his anxiety about this house, the 
 rent of which was not above fifty pounds a year, 
 that it brought on a fever, which nearly cost him 
 his life. 
 
 In the muscular and unincumbered frgftne of Mr. 
 Elwes, there was every thing that promised ex- 
 treme length of life; and he lived to above seventy 
 years of age without any natural disorder attack- 
 ing him: but, as Lord Bacon has well observed, 
 “the minds of some men are a lamp that is con- 
 tinually burning;” and such was the mind of Mr. 
 
JOHN ELWES. 
 
 73 
 
 i 
 
 Ehves. Removed from those occasional public 
 avocations which had once engaged his attention, 
 money was now his only thought. He rose upon 
 money; upon money he lay down to rest; and as 
 his capacity sunk away from him by degrees, he 
 dwindled from the real cares of his property into 
 the puerile concealment of a few guineas. This 
 % little store he would carefully wrap up in various 
 papers, and depositing them in different corners, 
 would amuse himself with running from one to the 
 other, to see whether they were all safe. Then 
 forgetting, perhaps, where he had concealed some 
 of them, he would become as seriously afflicted as 
 a man might be who had lost all his property. 
 Nor was the day alone thus spent: he would fre- 
 quently rise in the middle of the night , and be 
 heard walking about different parts of the house, 
 looking after what he had thus hidden and forgot- 
 ten. 
 
 It was at this period, and at seventy-six years 
 old, or upwards, that Mr. Elwes began to feel, 
 for the first time, some bodily infirmities from age. 
 He now experienced occasional attacks from the 
 gout: on which, with his usual perseverance, and 
 with all his accustomed antipathy to apothecaries t 
 and their bills , he would set out to walk as far and 
 as fast as he could. While he was engaged in 
 this painful mode of cure, he frequently lost him- 
 self in the streets, the names of which he no long- 
 er remembered, and was as frequently brought 
 home by some errand-boy, or stranger, of whom 
 he had inquired his way. On these occasions he 
 would bow and thank them, at the door, with great 
 civility ; but never indulged them with a sight of 
 the inside of the house. 
 
 During the winter of 1789, the last winter Mr, 
 7 
 
■74 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 Elwes was fated to see, his memory visibly weakj 
 ened every day; and, from his unceasing wish to 
 save money, he now began to apprehend he should 
 die in want of it. Mr. Gibson had been appointed 
 his builder in the room of Mr. Adam ; and one day, 
 when this gentleman waited upon him, he said, 
 with apparent concern, “ Sir, pray consider in 
 what a wretched state I am; you see in what a 
 good house I am living; and here are five guineas, 
 which is all I have at present; and how I shall go 
 on with such a sum of money, puzzles me to death 
 — I dare say you thought I was rich; now you see 
 how it is! ” 
 
 The first symptoms of more immediate decay, 
 was his inability to enjoy his rest at night. Fre- 
 quently would he be heard at midnight as if strug- 
 gling with some one in his chamber, and crying 
 out, “ I will keep my money, I will; nobody shall 
 rob me of my property!” On any one of the fam- 
 ily going into his room, he would start from his 
 fever of anxiety, and, as if wakened from a 
 troubled dream, again hurry into bed, and seem 
 unconscious of what had happened. At other 
 times, when perfectly awake, he would walk to 
 the spot where he had hidden his money, to see if 
 it was safe. 
 
 In the autumn of 1789, his memory was gone 
 entirely; his perception of things was decreasing 
 very rapidly; and as the mind became unsettled, 
 gusts of the most violent passion usurped the place 
 of his former command of temper. For six weeks 
 previous to his death, he would go to rest in his 
 clothes, as perfectly dressed as during the day. 
 He was one morning found fast asleep betwixt the 
 sheets, with his shoes on his feet, his stick in his 
 hand, and an old torn hat upon his head. 
 
MARY O’BRIEN. 
 
 75 
 
 Mr. Ehves, on the 18th of November, 1789, 
 discovered signs of that utter and total weakness, 
 which carried him to his grave in eight days. On 
 the evening of the first day he was conveyed to 
 bed — from which he rose no more. His appetite 
 was gone. He had but a faint recollection of any 
 thing about him; and his last coherent words were 
 addressed to his son, Mr. John Ehves, in hoping 
 “ he had left him what he wished.” On the 
 morning of the 26th of November he expired with- 
 out a sigh! 
 
 Thus died Mr. Ehves, the most perfect model 
 of human penury which has been presented to the 
 public for a long series of years 
 
 MARY O’BRIEN. 
 
 There was living in 1813, at the house of Mr. 
 J. Mathews, Gardener, Armagh, a woman named 
 Mary O’Brien, aged 103. — Four generations of 
 her lineal descendants reside with her. There is a 
 probability, from her health and strength, that she 
 may live to see her granddaughter’s grandchild, 
 when she may be enabled to say, “ Rise up 
 daughter, go to your daughter, for your daughter's 
 daughter has got a daughter .”— Old Jenkins, the 
 Englishman, lived to the vast age of 169. It is 
 a curious speculation, that if thirty-three men 
 were each to attain the same age of Jenkins, one 
 coming into the world at the precise moment his 
 immediate predecessor left it, the first of these 
 venerable personages might have shaken hands 
 with Adam, and the remotest of thirty-five 
 such persons would have been coeval with the 
 world. 
 
76 
 
 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 THOMAS LAUGHER, 
 
 Aged 109 Years. 
 
 Thomas Laugher, supposed to be the oldest 
 man now living in England, was baptized on the 
 
THOMAS LAUGHER. 
 
 77 
 
 6th of January (old style), in the year 1700, a; 
 Markly, Worcestershire: he now resides (June 
 the 20th, 1809,) at the Park coffee-house, Wor- 
 cester-street, Southwark. Consequently he is 
 upwards of 109 years of age: his father died at the 
 age of 97, his mother at 108, and his son at 80. 
 
 When King William and Queen Mary died, he 
 was a little boy: he very well remembers Queen 
 Anne going to the House of Peers, 1705, on 
 horseback, seated on a pillion, behind the Lord 
 Chancellor. He says he was formerly a whole- 
 sale wine and brandy merchant in Tower-street, 
 and that he lost, by the failure of the house of 
 JVeele, Fordyce and James, Bartholomew-lane, 
 the sum of £198,000; and that the sudden loss of 
 his property took such an effect upon him, that it 
 struck him blind, and speechless, and caused 
 quantities of skin to come from off his body. He 
 was educated at Christ’s College, Oxford; and, 
 after a residence of eleven years and a half at that 
 place, he took a tour on the continent of Europe, 
 and visited many parts of Turkey, in which he re- 
 sided upwards of seven years. 
 
 He never drank strong beer, small beer, wine, 
 or spirits, until he was above 53 years of age. 
 His principal sustenance was tea, coffee, bread 
 and spring water. He never ate any animal food 
 whatever, nor butter, nor cheese. He recollects 
 the quartern loaf at 2^d., primest meat at Id. per 
 pound, and the best fresh butter at 2^d. per pound. 
 
 His grandmother died 141 years old, and she 
 lived upon dry bread and cold pump water. This 
 astonishing man, whose looks are truly venerable, 
 is, to all appearance, strong and hearty, and seems 
 likely to live many more years ; and, for a man of 
 his great age, can walk about extremely well. He 
 
 7 * 
 
78 PORTRAITS OP CURIOUS CHARACTERS* 
 
 rises mostly at 4 o’clock in the morning, takes a* 
 long walk before breakfast, and eats and drinks 
 very sparingly, though he now lives upon animal 
 food and beer, and but rarely, if ever, drinks any 
 spirits, except for their proper use. 
 
 [Since the foregoing account was written, he 
 has departed this life, in the year 1812.] 
 
 FRANCIS BOLTON. 
 
 On the 23d of June 1811, died at Borough- 
 bridge, Yorkshire, aged eighty-three, Francis 
 Bolton, pauper, of that place, one of the most 
 eccentric characters perhaps ever known. He 
 was born at Spofforth, in Yorkshire, and was said, 
 in his youthful days, to be a remarkably handsome 
 man, and the first person, as a farmer’s servant, in 
 that part of the country, who wore white stockings. 
 His constant custom, from his infancy, was to 
 throw large quantities of cold water upon his head. 
 The manner he performed this was very singular: 
 in the most inclement winter, he would go to some 
 neighbouring pump, and fill his hat with water, 
 and having drank as much as he thought proper, 
 he would put his hat on, and the contents would 
 run down his body. His shirt, when washed, he 
 would put on wet, and for the last twenty years of 
 his life he refused to lie on a bed ; as a substitute 
 he used wet straw, on which he used to lie with- 
 out any covering but the clothes he put off; and 
 during the winter season he has many times been 
 found frozen to the ground. When able, he 
 travelled the country as a beggar. 
 
THE FLYING FYE-MAN. 
 
 79 
 
 THE FLYING PYE-MAN. 
 
 This person is well known in the neighborhood 
 of Fleet-market, daily making his appearance there 
 as the vender of hot pudding and pies. His ac- 
 tions and language are superior to the common 
 way of those people who follow so humble a call- 
 ing. His hair is mostly powdered, his dress is 
 extremely clean, and even genteel; his tongue is 
 constantly at work, and his voice strong. He 
 moves with astonishing rapidity, is followed by a 
 crowd, and enjoys an extensive trade. 
 
 i 
 
80 
 
 PORTRAITS OP CURIOUS CHARACTERS 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 DANIEL DANCER, ESQ. 
 
 Content is wealth, the riches of the mind. 
 
 And happy he who can that treasure find ; 
 
 But the base miser starves amidst his store, 
 
 Broods o’er his gold, and, griping still for more. 
 
 Sits sadly pining, and believes lie’s poor. Dryden. 
 
 It is presumed by philosophers, that the most 
 important study for the improvement of mankind 
 is Man; and this knowledge cannot be more 
 profitably acquired, than in perusing those true 
 examples of human life, recorded in the vicissi- 
 tudes and incidents which biography presents im- 
 partially to the mind, with the direction of truth 
 for their application to the purposes of our own 
 lives and actions, for imitation or abhorrence. 
 
 In this view, however elevated or depressed the 
 hero of the piece may be, some useful instruction 
 may still be gained, as we find ourselves more or 
 less interested in his transactions. In relating the 
 splendid actions of ambitious heroes, little is of- 
 fered that can be adopted or imitated by the most 
 numerous class of society; but in detailing the 
 events concomitant with the most miserable penu- 
 ry, a lesson is produced fraught with wisdom, the 
 chief purport of which is to show in what estima- 
 tion riches are in the eyes of God, who wisely and 
 equally condemns to human distress, the miser 
 that scrapes, and the spendthrift that scatters. 
 
 Avarice, the most degrading of all passions to 
 the understanding, and the most deleterious to our 
 happiness, exhibits a humiliating picture of human 
 nature, and most impressively illustrates the un- 
 
k 
 
 DANIEL DANCER. Si 
 
 deniable truth, that wealth cannot grant ease to 
 its possessor; but, on the contrary, fills him with 
 the most alarming fears for the safety of this imag- 
 inary good, and naturally suggests the most consol- 
 atory reflection to forbearing poverty, whose une- 
 qual share in the distribution of wealth is more 
 than counterbalanced by the comparison. 
 
 With this view is here presented to the public, 
 the following exact particulars of the most remark- 
 * able instances of the misery which is ever attendant 
 upon the mind cursed with the insanity of saving. 
 It appears by the parish register, that Mr. Daniel 
 Dancer was born in the year 1716, and was the 
 eldest of four children, three sons and a daughter.' 
 His father lived on Harrow- Weald Common, near 
 Harrow on the Hill, where he possessed property 
 to a very considerable amount, and which his son, 1 
 by the most determined and whimsical abstemious- 
 ness, increased to upwards of three thousand 
 pounds per annum. 
 
 The years of his minority probably passed un- 
 noticed, as nothing is recorded of him in his 
 youth that might indicate the singularity and 
 propensity to save, which so peculiarly distin- 
 guished his maturer years; but a detail of his ac- 
 tions is now offered to the world, as the most 
 perfect examples of saving knowledge, and how 
 misery may be multiplied by self-denial, for the 
 purpose of accumulating useless riches. 
 
 Mr. Dancer, as before observed, had a sister, 
 whose disposition to reserve perfectly accorded 
 with his own; and, as they lived together many 
 years, their stories are necessarily connected, and 
 will furnish, in the sequel, the most melancholy 
 and degrading instance of the infirmity and folly of. 
 human nature. 
 
82 PORTRAITS OP CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 The daily appearance of this lady abroad, when 
 it happened that necessity or condescension drew 
 her out, exhibited the most perfect resemblance 
 of one of the witches in former times: for it is 
 certain, that had not philosophy, and the extension 
 of knowledge, long ago banished the belief in 
 ^witchcraft, Miss Dancer had certainly been taken 
 up by the witch-finders, and most probably burned 
 for her acquaintance with poverty, which made 
 her appear in such a questionable form, that even 
 the sagacious Matthew Hopkins, witch-hunter to 
 King James, might have mistaken this bundle of 
 rags for a correspondent with familiar spirits; for 
 her appearance might, with justice, be pronounced 
 not to be of this fashionable world. 
 
 Her accoutrements were usually a mixture of 
 male with female paraphernalia, tied round with a 
 raveling of hemp; for even in this part of attire 
 she studied how to make one cord last long by 
 .untwisting it to make it go farther; and, thus 
 equipped, she would sally forth, armed with a 
 broomstick or pitchfork, to check the progress 
 ( of such daring marauders as had the audacity to 
 intrude upon her brother’s grounds; on which 
 occasion her neighbors observed she had more 
 the appearance of a walking dunghill than one of 
 the fair sex. 
 
 The miserable hovel in which this parsimonious 
 and uniform pair took up their earthly residence, 
 was perfectly of a peice with themselves. Like 
 Drake’s ship, it had suffered so much by repair, and 
 still wanted so much, that a bit of the original 
 building could scarcely be distinguished by the 
 most diligent antiquarian; for there was not one 
 article of moveables which can be mentioned, but 
 had at one time or another, been nailed to some part 
 
DANIEL DANCER. 
 
 83 
 
 of the mansion, either to keep out the weather, or, 
 which Mr. and Miss Dancer deemed more trouble- 
 some, the neighbouring feline species, which, 
 strange to declare, often ventured into this house 
 of famine, lured, no doubt, by the inviting scent of 
 the vermin within, some of which species often had 
 the temerity to dispute the antiquity of their right 
 of possession; for it cannot be supposed that this 
 saving pair could think of the extravagance of 
 keeping a cat, who daily denied themselves the 
 natural call of appetite. 
 
 A neighbour going in one day, found Mr. Dan- 
 cer pulling some nails out of the sides of his 
 bellows; and, upon asking him the reason, he 
 replied, that wanting some nails to fasten a piece 
 of leather to a hole which time had effected in the 
 boarding of the house, he thought he could spare 
 some out of this useful piece of furniture, which 
 would save buying; observing, that undertakers, 
 trunk-makers, and bellows-makers, were the most 
 extravagant and wasteful fellows in the world in 
 their profusion of nails. 
 
 Miss Dancer’s disposition also corresponded with 
 his own; and she lived, or rather vegetated, in this 
 delightful mansion, winter and summer, making 
 each season keep pace with her frugal maxims; 
 for out of a little she had learned to spare , as 
 extravagance was in her opinion the most un- 
 pardonable fault. 
 
 The purpose of life is for refinement and im- 
 provement in some pursuit or other. This couple 
 only lived to save money, therefore every action 
 of theirs only tended to the accumulation of wealth; 
 and it was a long time before they had arrived at 
 the summit of the art of saving, by absolutely 
 denying themselves regular repasts, however 
 
84 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 coarse in quality,, or scanty in quantity; for they, ( 
 for a series of years, lived as sumptuously as three 
 pounds of sticking of beef, and fourteen hard dump- 
 lings, would allow for the short space of seven 
 days; and this supply, for years, served them week 
 after week; and though, during hot weather in 
 summer, the meat might urge greater expedition, 
 and fresher supplies, yet they never were observed 
 to relinquish their daily portion, with one cold 
 dumpling and a draught ofwater. Half a bullock’s 
 head, with occasionally a few stale trotters, made 
 broth for weeks; and this was sometimes rendered 
 more savoury by the addition of a few picked bones 
 which he took up in his walks, and of which he 
 daily deprived the dogs. 
 
 Their way of life suffered no variation; one 
 uniform application of the principle of saving per- 
 vaded every action of their lives, and was the 
 constant object of every point of view. Their 
 economical arrangements were constantly the 
 same, save that, now and then, accident might 
 throw something in their way, which might spare 
 their weekly expenditure for three pounds of slick- 
 ing. Mr. Dancer’s constant and strict attention, 
 in his walks about his grounds, sometimes afford- 
 ed him a piece of delicious viand, which the hand 
 of more dainty and more extravagant appetite had 
 thrown aside; not so much for the sake of variety, 
 as for the nauseous increase of smell it had ac- 
 quired; which, rendering it unfit for its former 
 owner, seemed, when picked up, to endear it the 
 more to the parsimonious finder, who immediately 
 calculated upon the saving it would produce to 
 this thrifty pair in their weekly commons. 
 
 An uncommon instance of this kind occurred 
 one summer’s morning, which for many weeks 
 
85 
 
 DANIEL DANCER. 
 
 discontinued the inquiries at the butcher’s shop 
 after the allowance of neck-beef ; and, while it 
 offered a change in their mode of living, gratified 
 their darling avarice, aud insatiable propensity to 
 save money. It happened one morning, as Mr. 
 Dancer was taking his usual walk upon the com- 
 mon, to pick up bones, sticks, or any bit of 
 rag or other matter that might go towards repair- 
 ing his clothes or his house, that he found a sheep, 
 which had apparently died from natural disease, 
 and most probably was in a putrid state. This 
 
 was a rare prize for Mr. Dancer; and, incredible 
 as it may appear, he took it up, and bore it home 
 
 8 
 
tfb PORTRAITS OP CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 on his shoulder in triumph to his sister, who re- 
 ceived it as the immediate gift of heaven, to bless 
 their poor souls with a change of food ; for they had 
 not for years tasted any thing like it ; and now they 
 were likely to feast for a great length of time un- 
 controlled, and at no expense neither, which was 
 the most delicate sauce that could accompany such 
 a delicious morsel as carrion mutton to the ap- 
 petite of a miser. 
 
 It was immediately skinned, and cut up, and the 
 fat laid aside, and an immense number of pies 
 made of it, with proper seasoning; so that Mr. 
 Dancer’s house, for a while, resembled a Perigord 
 pie-maker’s shop, preparing to pack up for ex- 
 portation. On these they feasted with their 
 accustomed frugality for several weeks, until the 
 whole were exhausted. It is even said that Miss 
 Dancer importuned Mr. Dancer to send two hand- 
 some ones to Mr. James Taylor, the Borough 
 usurer. 
 
 When a miser finds a treasure, he is sure to 
 lock it up. Whether Mr. Dancer thought his 
 sister extravagant in the indulgence Qf her stomach 
 at the beginning of the pie-feast , or whether it was 
 his pleasure at the thought of living at a small 
 expense, or at the change of diet the pies supplied, 
 he became unusually careful of them at last, and 
 locked them up in one of his strong coffers. 
 The truth of this, the following anecdote will 
 illustratively supply. The neighbours one morn- 
 ing observing Miss Dancer rather lower spirited 
 than usual, kindly inquired into the cause, when 
 after some hesitation, she acknowledged, that her 
 brother Daniel had scolded her for eating too much 
 of the mutton pies, and told her she was very 
 extravagant, which she observed, with tears in 
 
DANIEL DANCER. 
 
 87 
 
 her eyes, was an exceeding hard case, as she 
 loved to save as well as himself; but what 
 vexed her more, he had locked them up in his 
 strong trunk, in order to make them last longer, 
 not trusting her with the key. Miss Dancer, 
 upon the whole, seems to have been a very proper 
 companion for her brother; for it would have 
 been a difficult case to have matched him any 
 where for savingness. 
 
 This couple never manifested any predilection 
 for any mode of worship. Religion did not teach 
 how to save money; so that whenever Mr. Dancer 
 happened to stray into a church or meeting, which 
 happened sometimes, in his long walks, it was 
 only for a little rest; and he was sure to depart 
 before the collection was to be made, as he 
 thought the gift of a penny was parting with the 
 seed of a guinea, which might by little and little 
 increasetoanhundred. He might indeed bedeemed 
 a Predestinarian from the following circumstance ; 
 but, as Mr. Locke observes, “ Let ever so much 
 probability hang on one side, and a covetous man’s 
 reasoning and money on the other, it is easy to 
 foresee which will outweigh.” It was during* the 
 last illness which terminated his sister’s life, that 
 he was importuned to afford her some medical 
 assistance; to which he shrewdly replied, it would 
 cost him money; and, besides, continued he, 
 “ Why should I waste my money in wickedly 
 and wantonly trying to oppose the will of God? 
 If the girl is come to her latter end, nothing 
 can save her; and all I may do will only tend to 
 make me lose my money; and she may as well 
 die now as at any other time. If I thought bleed- 
 ing would recover her, I would open a vein myself; 
 hut I cannot think of paying for physic for dying 
 
88 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 people.” The dread of incurring expence, and ‘ 
 parting with his darling coin, was insurmountable. 
 Mr. Dancers reasoning on the conduct of 
 Providence, even tended towards his favourite 
 penchant — save money. 
 
 Perhaps never having felt the inconvenience 
 of ill health, or, from that callosity of heart ever 
 attendant upon the avaricious mind, he, at this 
 period, allowed his sister, in her last exigency, 
 but the usual portion of sticking of beef, with the 
 cold hard dumplin; to which he added the miser’s 
 humanity, “ If you don’t like it, Why, go without.” 
 But Mr. Dancer’s deficiency of care was very 
 amply supplied by the late lady Tempest, who 
 afforded every attention and kindness necessary 
 to the case of Miss Dancer. The latter was 
 possessed of more than 20001. which she intended 
 to leave Lady Tempest for -her extraordinary care 
 of her in her last illness; but she, unfortunately 
 for Lady Tempest, expired before she could sign a 
 will in her favour; and her property beirfg thus 
 left intestate, and at the disposition of the law, her 
 two brothers wished equally to divide it with Mr. 
 Dancer; but to this proposal he would not agree, 
 and obstinately refused to comply with any proposal 
 they could make, insomuch that after a long while 
 persevering, and obstinately refusing to come to 
 any agreement of participation, a law-suit followed, 
 and Mr. Dancer recovered 10401. of his sister’s 
 fortune, as the regular price of her board and 
 lodging for thirty years, at thirty pounds per 
 annum, and one hundred pounds for the last two 
 years ; for this charge he declared to be very reason- 
 able, as during that time she had done nothing but 
 eat and lie in bed. The remainder of her fortune, 
 after these extraordinary deductions, was equally 
 
DANIEL DANCER. 89 
 
 divided between the two brothers and Mr. 
 Dancer. 
 
 Mr. Dancer’s calculations for saving money 
 were systematical and regular; nothing escaped 
 his attention to that sole object of his soul; and so 
 rigid was his avarice, that he rarely washed his 
 face or hands, because soap was dear, towels 
 would wear out, and, besides, when dirty were 
 expensive washing. However, to obviate the 
 too great inconvenience of the accumulation of 
 filth, he would, once in two or three weeks, in 
 summer time, repair to a neighbouring pond, and 
 there wash himself with sand, and afterwards lie 
 on his back in the grass to dry his skin in the sun- 
 shine. 
 
 His wardrobe might very justly boast more sorts 
 and colours, and more substances, than the para- 
 phernalia of a strolling company of players. His 
 stockings were so much darned, that it was difficult 
 to discern what they were, for patches, for none 
 of the original could ever be discovered; and in 
 dirty or cold weather, they were strongly fortified 
 with ropes of twisted hay, for which he had a 
 happy talent. This contrivance served him for 
 boots; and when he declined them, he could 
 untwist them, and they served to increase the 
 bulk of his bed. 
 
 For many years it was his opinion that every 
 man ought to be his own cobbler; and for this 
 employ he had a lucky genius, which he indulged 
 so far as to keep by him the most necessary tools 
 for mendjng shoes; but these, it must impartially 
 be observed, cost him nothing; for he had 
 borrowed one at a time from different persons 
 until he had possessed himself of a complete set, 
 and with these he mended his own shoes so 
 
 8 * 
 
90 PORTRAITS OP CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 admirably, that what he wore, by the frequent jobs 
 and coverings they had received from his thrifty 
 hands, had become so ponderous, that running a 
 race in them would have been impractible; and, 
 besides, their dimensions were so much enlarged, 
 that they resembled hog-troughs more than shoes. 
 To keep these upon his feet, he took several 
 yards of cord, which he twisted round his ancles 
 in the manner the ancient Romans wore their 
 sandals. 
 
 Linen was a luxury to which, notwithstanding 
 his avaricious disposition, he was not quite a stran- 
 ger; for at an early period of his saving career, he 
 used to buy two shirts annually; but for some 
 years previous to his death, he never allowed him- 
 self more than one, for which he would constantly 
 bestow at some old clothes shop two shillings and 
 sixpence; and was never but once known to go to 
 so handsome a price as three shillings. After it 
 had got into his possession, it never underwent 
 the necessary operation either of washing or mend- 
 ing; upon his back it was doomed to perpetual 
 slavery until it fell off in rags. Hence it cannot 
 be doubted, nor will it surprise the reader to be 
 told, that, notwithstanding Mr. Dancer’s peculiar- 
 ity of disposition induced him to shun the world, 
 he never was without a numerous retinue about 
 him, whose lively spirit, and attachment to his per- 
 son, made his acquaintance, as well as his neigh- 
 bors, extremely cautious of approaching him. 
 
 After his sister’s death, a pair of sheets, as black 
 as soot-bags, were discovered upon the bed; but 
 these he would never suffer to be removed; and 
 when they were worn out, were never replaced; 
 so that after that time he relinquished the use of 
 linen to sleep in. 
 
DANIEL DANCER. 
 
 91 
 
 He would not allow any one to make his bed, 
 though Lady Tempest often solicited him to per- 
 mit it; and .for many years his room was never 
 swept. Towards the time of his death, it was ob- 
 served to be filled with sticks, which he had stolen 
 out of the different hedges. A considerable quan- 
 tity of odd shapen gravel stones were also found 
 in a bag, but for what use these were intended is 
 unknown. 
 
 The report of his riches, and the idea of its con- 
 cealment about the house, once brought a troop of 
 house-breakers, who very easily entered, and, 
 without any search-warrant, rummaged every 
 corner of the place ; but although this domiciliary 
 visit cost the lives of some of them, they took away 
 but little property. Old Dancer had been long 
 on his guard; and his mode of hiding was so pe- 
 culiar to himself, that the grand object of the 
 thieves was never discoverable by them. Mr. 
 Dancer concealed his treasure where no one could 
 ever think of seeking for it. Bank notes were 
 usually deposited with the spiders; they were hid 
 amongst the cobwebs in the cow-house ; and guin- 
 eas in holes in the chimney, and about the fire- 
 place, covered with soot and ashes. Soon after 
 the robbery, when the thieves were apprehended, 
 and to be tried, it being very necessary that Mr. 
 Dancer should attend the trial, Lady Tempest re- 
 quested that in order to appear a little decent, he 
 would change his shirt, and she would lend him a 
 clean one. “ No, no,” he replied, “it is not ne- 
 cessary. The shirt I have on is quite new; I 
 bought it only three weeks ago, and then it was 
 clean.” 
 
 His extreme love of money overcame every 
 other consideration; and to this idol, Mammon, he 
 
 J 
 
92 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 even sacrificed brotherly affection. From the evi- 
 dent want of this principle, and to his attachment 
 to gain, may be accounted his strange behaviour, 
 as before related, to his sister at her latter end. 
 But in one singular instance, and to the canine 
 species too, he seemed, in some measure, to fore- 
 go his favqurite idea of saving. This was a dog, 
 of which he was extremely fond, and which he 
 called by the familiar appellation of, Bob my child . 
 His treatment of this animal affords an instance 
 of that inconsistency of human actions, which 
 philosophy seeks in vain to account for. 
 
 While his self-denial was so severe that he de- 
 nied himself a penny loaf a day, and existed 
 entirely upon Lady Tempest’s pot liquor and 
 scraps from her kitchen, of which he would cram 
 so greedily, that he was frequently under the ne- 
 cessity of rolling himself upon the floor before he 
 could go to sleep, he allowed this dog, he called 
 Bob, a pint of milk daily; and this he paid for as it 
 was constantly supplied by a neighboring farmer, 
 when he had parted with his farming stock, and 
 had not one cow left. 
 
 Once upon a time a complaint being made to 
 him that his dog Bob had worried some of his 
 neighbors’ sheep, he took the dog to a farrier’s 
 shop, and had all his teeth filed down. 
 
 For this barbarous action he never gave any rea- 
 son; possibly it might be to prevent the like again; 
 asShe might shrewdly guess, that any further damage 
 from his dog’s mischievous manner might bring 
 expenses upon him, as he was certainly liable to 
 be compelled to pay them. 
 
 His sister being dead, and finding himself 
 lonesome, he hired a man for his companion; and 
 in his choice he shewed much discernment ; for 
 
DANIEL DANCER. 
 
 93 
 
 his man Griffiths was a proper counterpart of 
 himself — both miserable alike. When they went 
 out, they took different roads, though both follow- 
 ed the same occupation; only that the servant in- 
 dulged more taste for strong beer; a liquor which 
 Mr. Dancer carefully avoided, as costing money; 
 but Griffiths would tipple a little, which was the 
 cause of much altercation at night when these 
 saving souls met. However, Griffiths generally 
 came loaded with bones, some of which . having 
 some fragments of flesh on, served to heighten 
 their repast, and quieted the master’s impending 
 storm. This fellow had, by as severe parsimony 
 
94 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 as that exercised by Mr. Dancer, contrived to ac- 
 cumulate 5001. out of wages which had never 
 exceeded 101. per annum. At the time he lived 
 with Mr. Dancer he was upwards of sixty, and 
 hired himself to him for eighteen fence a week. 
 Every trait of so singular a character is interesting. 
 Mr. Dancer having occasion to come to London 
 one day for the purpose of investing two thousand 
 pounds in the funds, -a gentleman, who did not 
 know him, met him near the Royal Exchange, and 
 mistaking him for a beggar, charitably slipped a 
 penny into his hands. Jemmy Taylor, the 
 Borough usurer, who stood by, was a little sur- 
 prised; but Mr. Dancer seemed to understand the 
 gentleman very well, and observing to Taylor, 
 every little helps, he pocketed the half-pence, and 
 walked on. Perhaps he might consider this penny 
 as the seed of a pound, to which it might attain by 
 gentle gradations; and as the human mind is 
 always pleased with prospects of what it wishes, 
 Mr. Dancer might contemplate this penny multi- 
 plying itself progressively, until it arrived at 
 thousands; for, as Lord Chesterfield observes, take 
 care of the pence, and the pounds will take care of 
 themselves. In fact, the truth is, that wealth is at. 
 first acquired by very minute particles: small 
 sums are the semina of great ones, and may very 
 aptly be compared to seconds of time, which gene- 
 rate years, centuries, and even eternity itself. 
 
 Lady Tempest was the only person who had 
 any influence over this unfortunate miser; and 
 though she knew his fortune was at last to devolve 
 to her and Captain Holmes, yet she, with that 
 gentleman, with the utmost solicitude, employed 
 every contrivance to make him partake of those 
 conveniences and indulgences, which his fortune 
 
DANIEL DANCER. 
 
 95 
 
 could supply, and which his advanced years re- 
 quired; but all their entreaties were without effect. 
 “ Where was he to get the money ? How could 
 he afford it? If it was not for some charitable as- 
 sistance, how could he live?” One day however, 
 this lady, with a great deal of persuasion, pre 
 vailed upon him to purchase a hat, which he did 
 at last, of a Jew, for a shilling, having worn the 
 one he then possessed upwards of fourteen years; 
 but yet it was too good in his eye to throw away. 
 When Lady Tempest visited him the next time, 
 she, to her great astonishment, perceived him 
 still with his old hat on. On importuning him for 
 the reason, he at last told her, that, after much 
 solicitation, he had prevailed on his old man 
 Griffiths to give him sixpence profit upon the hat 
 he had purchased, by hec desire, of the Jew, a 
 few days before. 
 
 To those who cannot exist without every con- 
 veniency in life, and even without every artificial 
 appendage to luxury, let them turn to this old 
 miser, worth more than three thousand pounds 
 per annum, who, for the sake of making that sum 
 still more, foregoes even that superlative comfort, 
 a fire in winter time! Ye spendthrifts, read this 
 anecdote and blush. 
 
 Mr. Dancer had arrived at his 78th year before 
 he felt any serious cause of complaint to call in a 
 doctor. His antipathy to the medical tribe has 
 been already mentioned; therefore it was in vain 
 to advise him to take any medicine, even when 
 there was a necessity for it. 
 
 During the illness which terminated this miser- 
 able man’s misspent life, in the 78th year of his 
 age, in the month of October 1794, Lady Tempest 
 accidentally called upon him, and found him 
 
96 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 lying in an old sack, which carne up to his chin, ' 
 and his head wrapped up in pieces of the same 
 materials as big as a bee-hive. On her remonstrat- 
 ing against the impropriety of such a situation, he 
 observed, that being a very poor man, he could not 
 afford better; and having come into the world 
 without a shirt, he was determined to go out in 
 the same manner. 
 
 His opinion of the professors of physic was 
 rather singular, and seemed to border upon 
 predestination. To use his own language, the 
 medical tinkers were all a set of rogues; who, 
 while they patched up one hole, always contrived 
 to make ten, for a better job; but he allowed of 
 the utility of surgery in repairing accidental frac- 
 tures. 
 
 His prejudice against the whole tribe of lawyers 
 was determined in the extreme. Indeed, his 
 inveteracy was the result of strongly feeling the 
 effects of their chicanery ; and his aversion to this 
 class of men was so great, that he would even 
 forego his own interest to gratify his resentment, 
 as the following anecdote will prove. 
 
 Having, as was usually his half yearly custom, 
 agreed with an old clothes-man for a shirt for half 
 a crown, as he thought, the dealer called at his 
 house, and left him one worth three shillings; but 
 for which he refused to pay any more than his 
 original agreement of 2s. 6d. Notwithstanding the 
 party urged the goodness and the fineness of the 
 article* Mr. Dancer was impenetrable; and no 
 more than the half-crown would he pay; which 
 the man as peremptorily refusing, at last applied 
 to the court of Requests of the district, to which 
 he was obliged to repair, although it cost him 
 (ivepence on .the journey for bread and cheese, 
 
DANIEL DANCER. 
 
 97 
 
 and the cost of hearing, See. in all upwards of 
 four shillings and sixpence. This had such an 
 effect on Mr. Dancer’s mind, that he ever after- 
 wards held the lawyers in abhorrence; for to give, 
 or pay, were not to be found in his vocabulary. 
 Addition and multiplication were his favorite rules, 
 and usury was the foundation of his good deeds. 
 
 Though Mr. Dancer, by his spirit of covetous- 
 ness, debased himself in this sordid manner, yet 
 he kept a mare, for which he showed a great par- 
 tiality ; but he never allowed her more than two 
 shoes at one time, deeming it an unnecessary 
 expense to shoe the hind feet of the animal ; and 
 he used to say, it was more pleasant for a horse to 
 feel the naked grass, than to be confined in unnatu- 
 ral shoes. 
 
 Mr. Dancer was the most perfect picture of hu- 
 man penury that perhaps ever existed, and the 
 most singular character that ever lived; his habits 
 were those of an hermit, and his extreme avarice 
 rendered him abstemious as any ascetic of the 
 desert. 
 
 In this manner lived, and in this situation died, 
 Daniel Dancer, Esquire, a monumental proof to 
 the world, that the advantages of fortune, unless 
 properly directed, will not make their possessor 
 happy. Lady Tempest, it ought to be observed 
 here, had but a very short enjoyment of the great 
 accession of wealth she acquired by this miser’s 
 death; for she contracted an illness during her 
 attendance upon Mr. Dancer’s last hours, that in a 
 few months closed the period of her own life, which 
 happened in January, 1795. 
 
 The house, or rather the heap of ruins, in which 
 Mr. Dancer lived, and which at his death devolved 
 to the right of Captain Holmes, was a most 
 
 * 9 
 
 l 
 
9B TORTRAITS OP CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 miserable decayed building, frightful and terrific 
 in its outside appearance ; for it had not been 
 repaired for more than half a century. But 
 though poor in external appearance, the ruinous 
 fabric was very rich in the interior. It took many 
 weeks to explore its whole contents ; and Captain 
 Holmes and Lady Tempest found it a very 
 agreeable task to dive into the miser’s secrets 
 One of the late Mr. Dancer’s richest scrutoires 
 was found to be a dung-heap in the cow-house ; a 
 sum little short of £2500 was contained in this rich 
 piece of manure ; and in an old jacket, carefully 
 tied, and strongly nailed down to the manger, in 
 bank-notes and gold, five hundred pounds more. 
 
 Several large bowls filled with guineas, half 
 guineas, and quantities of silver, were discovered, 
 at different times, in searching the corners of the 
 house ; and various parcels of bank-notes stuffed 
 under the covers of old chairs and cushions. In 
 the stable the Captain found some jugs of dollars 
 and shillings. It was observable, that Mr. Dancer 
 used to visit this place in the dead of the night, but 
 for what purpose even old Griffiths himself could 
 not guess ; but it is supposed, it was to rob one 
 jug to add to a bowl which he had buried, and was 
 nearly full, when taken up from under one of the 
 hearth tiles. 
 
 The chimney was not left unsearched, and 
 paid very well for the trouble ; for in nineteen 
 different holes, all filled with soot, were found 
 various sums of money, amounting together to 
 more than 2001. Bank-notes to the value of 6001. 
 were found doubled up in the bottom of an old 
 tea-pot. Over these was a bit of paper, whim- 
 sically inscribed, u Not to be too hastily looked 
 over.” 
 
 
BARBARA URSEL1N. 
 
 99 
 
 Mr. Dancer’s principal acquaintance, and the 
 most congenial companion of his soul, was the 
 penurious Jemmy Taylor, of the Borough of 
 Southwark. This genius became acquainted 
 with him accidentally at the Stock Exchange, 
 where they chanced to meet to transact some money 
 affairs: and they often visited each other after- 
 wards; for it was a certain satisfaction to each to 
 edify by the other’s experience. A To doubt their 
 conversation ran much upon refinements in hard 
 living , for Jemmy was as rigid an ascetic as the 
 other, though he did not go quite in so beggarly a 
 style. 
 
 BARBARA URSELIN. 
 
 In 1655, this female was exhibited for money. 
 Her name was Augusta Barbara she was the 
 daughter of Balthazar Urselin, and was then in 
 her twenty-second year. Her whole body, and 
 even her face, was covered with curled hair of a 
 yellow colour, and very soft, like wool; she had 
 besides a thick beard that reached to her girdle, and 
 from her ears hung long tufts of yellowish hair. 
 She had been married above a year, but then had 
 no issue. Her husband’s name was Vaubeck, 
 and he married her merely to make a show of her, 
 for which purpose he visited various countries of 
 Europe, and England among others. Barbara 
 Urselin is believed to be the hairy girl mentioned 
 by Bartoline, and appears not to differ from her 
 whom Borelli describes by the name of Barba, who 
 he believed improved, if not procured, that hairiness 
 by art 
 
100 PORTRAITS OP CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 MULLED SACK. 
 
 John Cottington, better known by the name of 
 Mulled Sack, was one of the most notorious high- 
 waymen this country has produced. He was the 
 son of a haberdasher in Cheapside, who having 
 exhausted his property died poor, and was buried 
 by the parish, leaving fifteen daughters and four 
 sons, of whom our hero was the youngest. At 
 eight years of age he was put apprentice to a 
 chimney-sweeper of St. Mary-le-bow, with whom 
 he remained about five years: as soon as he en- 
 tered his teens he ran away; and soon afterwards 
 received the name of Mulled Sack, from his drink- 
 ing sack mulled, morning, noon and night. To 
 support a life of dissipation he turned pickpocket; 
 and one of his first robberies of this sort was com- 
 mitted on Lady Fairfax, from whom he got a rich 
 gold watch: and his depredations were afterwards 
 so numerous, that his biographers state “ the 
 many various neat tricks Mulled Sack played 
 upon Ludgate-hill, by making stops of coaches 
 and carts, and the money that he and his consorts 
 got there by picking pockets, would have been 
 almost enough to have built St. Paul’s Cathe- 
 dral.” 
 
 Mulled Sack was detected in picking the pocket 
 of Oliver Cromwell as he came out of the Parlia- 
 ment House; but escaped hanging by the political 
 changes of the times. He next turned highway- 
 man, and was so audacious as to rob Colonel 
 Hewson when marching over Hounslow at the 
 head of his regiment, in company with one Tom 
 Cheney. They were pursued by a body of troop- 
 ers; Mulled Sack escaped, but his companion, 
 after defending himself against eighteen horsemen, 
 
MOLL CUT PURSE. 
 
 101 
 
 was overpowered and taken: he was tried at the 
 Old Bailey, convicted, and executed at Tyburn. 
 Mulled Sadk, aftervvards, along with several other 
 of his companions, waylaid a waggon which was 
 conveying £4,000 to Oxford and Gloucester, and 
 seized the money, which they soon spent: he also 
 robbed the house of the Receiver- General of 
 Reading of £6,000, which he was preparing to 
 send up to town. For this offence Mulled Sack, 
 who was taken, was tried at Reading, but ac- 
 quitted; it is said, by bribing the jury. He had 
 not been long at liberty before he killed one John 
 Bridges, for which he was obliged to quit the 
 kingdom, and went to Cologne, where he robbed 
 King Charles II., then in exile, of as much 
 plate as was valued at £1,500. On returning to 
 England he promised to give Oliver Cromwell 
 some of his Majesty’s papers, but, says his biog- 
 rapher, “not making good his promise, he was 
 sent to Newgate, and receiving sentence of death, 
 was hanged in Smithfield rounds, in April 1659, 
 aged fifty-five years.” 
 
 MOLL CUT PURSE. 
 
 Mary Frith, or as she was more generally 
 called, Moll Cut Purse, was a woman of mascu- 
 line figure and spirit, who lived in the reign of 
 Charles the First. She was a participator in most 
 of the crimes and wild frolics of her time; and 
 was notorious as a fortune-teller, a pickpocket, 
 and a receiver of stolen goods. In this she acted 
 much on the same plan that was afterwards adopt- 
 ed by Jonathan Wild, keeping a correspondence 
 with most of the thieves of that time. She was 
 
 9* 
 
102 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 particularly intimate with Mulled Sack, until he 
 once left her in pawn for a tavern score, when 
 she dropped his acquaintance. 
 
 Moll Cut Purse once robbed General Fairfax 
 on Hounslow Heath, for which offence she was 
 sent to Newgate, but by the proper application of 
 a large sum of money she soon obtained her 
 liberty. She lived a life of iniquity, which was 
 extended to the age of seventy-five years. Moll 
 was very fond of smoking tobacco, which her 
 early biographer thinks hastened her death; but 
 the smokers of the present day would deny such 
 an inference. Moll’s character and exploits are 
 alluded to by Butler and Swift. 
 
 FRANCIS BATTALIA, 
 
 THE STONE-EATER. 
 
 Man generally comes into the world and goes out 
 of it empty handed; we say generally, for this 
 rule, like most others, is not without an exception, 
 as will be seen in the memoir we are about to give 
 of an Italian who lived in London about the middle 
 of the' seventeenth century. For this account We 
 are indebted to a tract by Dr. John Bulwer, 
 published in 1753, and entitled “ Man Trans- 
 formed, or the Artificial Changeling.” 
 
 I saw in London, the other day (says the 
 Doctor), an Italian, one Francis Battalia by 
 name, about thirty years of age, who was born 
 with two stones in one hand and one in the other; 
 who as soon as he was born, having the breast of- 
 fered unto him refused to suck ; and when they would 
 have fed him with pap he utterly rejected that al- 
 so; whereupon the mid-wife and nurse, entering 
 
FRANCIS BATTALIA. 
 
 103 
 
 into consideration of the strangeness of his birth hnd 
 refusal of all kind of nourishment, consulted with 
 some physicians what they should do in this case. 
 
 When the physicians saw that the child rejected 
 all usual nourishment, they stated their opinion 
 that the child brought its meat with it into the world, 
 and that it was to be nourished with stones. The 
 experiment was tried, the three stones which he 
 held in his hands when born (some accounts say 
 five) were successively swallowed; and the nurse 
 now fed him with nothing but small pebbles, which 
 constituted his only solid food, not only from his 
 birth to manhood, but during the remainder of his 
 life. ' 
 
 Dr. Buhver, who saw him when he was thirty 
 years of age, says: “his manner is to put three 
 or four stones into a spoon, and so putting them 
 into the mouth together, to swallow them all down 
 one after another; then he drinks a glass of beer 
 after them. He devours about half a peck of 
 these stones every day; and when he chinks upon 
 his stomach, or shakes his body, you may hear the 
 stones rattle as if they were in a sack; all which 
 in twenty-four hours are resolved: after which 
 digestion of them he hath a fresh appetite to these 
 stones, as we have to our victuals; and by these, 
 with a cup of beer and a pipe of tobacco, he has 
 his whole subsistence. He hath attempted to eat 
 meat and bread, broth, milk, and such kind of 
 food, upon which other mortals commonly live; 
 but he could never brook any, neither would they 
 stay with him to do him any good. 
 
 He is a black, swarthy, little fellow, active and 
 strong enough; and hath been a soldier in Ireland, 
 where he hath made good use of this property ; for 
 having the advantage of this strange way of 
 
104 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 alimony, he sold his allowance of provision at 
 great rates; and he told me that at Limerick, in 
 Ireland, he sold a sixpenny loaf and two penny- 
 worth of cheese for twelve shillings and six- 
 pence. . * 
 
 It seems that when Battalia first came over to 
 this country, he was suspected to be an impostor, 
 and was by the order of the government shut up 
 for a month with the allowance of two pots of beer 
 and half an ounce of tobacco every day. At the 
 end of this time he was discharged, and acquitted 
 of all deceit. 
 
 Mr. Boyle, in his Experimental Philosophy, 
 notices Battalia, of whom he says, “ Not long 
 ago, there was here in England, a private soldier 
 very famous for digesting of stones; and a very 
 inquisitive man asures me that he knew him 
 familiarly, and had the curiosity to keep in his 
 company for twenty-four hours together to watch 
 him; and observed that he ate nothing but stones 
 in that time.” . 
 
 PHEBE BROWN. 
 
 The greatest wonder I ever saw (says Mr. 
 Hutton, of Birmingham) was Phebe Brown. She 
 is five feet six inches in height, is about thirty, 
 well proportioned, round face, and ruddy; has a 
 dark penetrating eye, which, the moment it fixes 
 upon your face, sees your character, and that with 
 precision. Her step (pardon the Irishism) is 
 more manly than a man’s, and can cover forty 
 miles a day. Her common dress is a man’s hat, 
 coat, with a spencer over it, and men’s shoes. 
 She is unmarried. 
 
PHEBE BROWN. 
 
 105 
 
 
 She can lift one hundred weight in each hand, 
 and carry fourteen score; can sew, knit, cook, 
 and spin, but hates them all, and every accompani- 
 ment to the female character, that of modesty ex- 
 cepted. A gentleman at the New Bath had 
 recently treated her rudely: “ She had a good 
 mind to have knocked him down.” She assured 
 me she never knew what fear was. She gives no 
 affront, but offers to fight any man who gives her 
 one. If she never has fought, perhaps it is owing 
 to the insulter having been a coward, for the man 
 of courage would disdain to offer an insult to a 
 female. 
 
 Fhebe has strong sense, an excellent judgment, 
 says smart things, and supports an easy freedom 
 in all companies. Her voice is more than mascu- 
 line, it is deep toned. With the wind in her favor, 
 she can send it a mile; she has neither beard nor 
 prominence of breast; she undertakes any kind of 
 manual labor, as holding the plough, driving a 
 team, thatching the barn, using the flail, &c. ; but 
 her chief avocation is breaking horses, for which 
 she charges a guinea a week each. She always 
 rides without a saddle, is thought the best judge 
 of a horse or cow in the country, and is frequent- 
 ly employed to purchase for others at the 
 neighbouring fairs. 
 
 She is fond of Milton, Pope, and Shakspeare, 
 also of music; is self-taught, and performs on 
 several instruments, as the flute, violin, and harp- 
 sichord, and supports the bass viol in Mallock 
 church. She is a markswoman, and carries the 
 gun on her shoulder. She eats no beef or pork, 
 and but little mutton. *Her chief food is milk, 
 which is also her drink, discarding wine, ale, and 
 spirits. 
 
106 PORTRAITS OP CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 THE SPOTTED NEGRO ROY 
 
 George Alexander Gratton, the Spotted 
 Negro Boy, was well known to the inhabitants 
 of the metropolis and its vicinity, about twelve 
 years ago, at which time he was exhibited at the 
 fairs, by Richardson, a famous purveyor of objects 
 of entertainment at those places of popular fes- 
 tivity. 
 
 Both the parents of George Alexander were 
 black, and natives of Africa. He was born in the 
 island of St. Vincent, on the plantation of Mr. 
 Alexander, of which one Gratton was overseer, 
 about the month of June, 1808; and the curiosity 
 of his appearance was such, that he was shewn, 
 in the capital of his native island, at the price of a 
 dollar each person. It is added, that the superstitious 
 prejudices of the negroes placed his life in some 
 danger, and that he was, on that account, shipped 
 for England. Probably the prospect of a profita- 
 ble disposal of him, in this country, was an equally 
 powerful motive for his removal. 
 
 The child was only fifteen months old, when, in 
 September, 1809, being brought to Bristol, in 
 the ship called the Friends of Emma, Mr. Richard- 
 son, the proprietor, as before intimated, of a 
 travelling theatre, was applied to, and an engage- 
 ment entered upon, by which he was consigned to 
 Mr. Richardson’s care for three years. 
 
 His skin and hair were every where party- 
 coloured, transparent brown and white. On the 
 crown of his head, several triangles, one within 
 the other, were formed by alternations of the 
 colours of his hair. In figure and countenance he 
 might truly be called a beautiful child. His limbs 
 were well proportioned, his features regular and 
 
SPOTTED NEGRO BOY. 
 
 107 
 
 pleasing, his eyes bright and intelligent, and the 
 whole expression of his face both mild and lively. 
 His voice was soft and melodious; and, as his mind 
 began to develope itself, much quickness and 
 penetration were betrayed. 
 
 When nearly five years of age, he was unfortu- 
 nately attacked with a swelling in the jaw, and 
 died on the 3d of February, 1813, Mr. Richard- 
 son, who had always treated him with a parental 
 kindness while alive, was sincerely afflicted at his 
 •death. Soon after he had been placed with him, 
 he had caused him to be baptised at the parish 
 church of Newington, in the county of Surry; 
 and, on his death, he was buried at Great Marlow, 
 in Buckinghamshire, in a brick vault, which Mr. 
 Richardson caused to be purposely constructed. 
 Mr. Richardson, fearful that the body might be 
 stolen, had previously kept it unburied for the 
 space of three months. 
 
 In the vestry of the church of Great Marlow 
 hangs a fine painting of this extraordinary natural 
 phenomenon, executed from the life, by Coventry; 
 and presented to the corporation of Buckingham 
 by Mr. Richardson; who finally closed his displays 
 of affectionate regard for a child, which was not 
 originally more recommended to his attention by 
 his curiosity, than he was afterwards endeared to 
 him by disposition and manners, by erecting a 
 monument to his memory at Great Marlow, and 
 placing upon it the following inscription and epi- 
 taph : — 
 
 TO THE MEMORY 
 
 OF 
 
 GEORGE ALEXANDER GRATTON, 
 
 THE SPOTTED NEGRO BOY, 
 
 From the Carribee Islands, in the West Indies, died Feb 
 3d, 1813, aged four i/ears and three quarters. 
 
108 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 This Tomb is erected by his only Friend and Guardian, 
 Mr. John Richardson , of London. 
 
 Should this plain simple tomb attract thine eye, 
 
 Stranger, as thoughtfully thou passest by, 
 
 Know that there lies beneath this humble! stone, 
 
 A child of colour, haply not thine own. 
 
 His parents, born ofAfric’s sun-burnt race. 
 
 Though black and white were blended in his face. 
 
 To Britain brought, which made his parents free. 
 
 And shewed the world great Nature’s prodigy. 
 
 Deprived of kindred that to him were dear, 
 
 He found a friendly Guardian’s fost’ring care, 
 
 But, scarce had bloomed, the fragrant flower fades. 
 
 And the loved infant finds an early grave. 
 
 To bury him his loved companions came, 
 
 And strewed choice flowers, and lisped his early fame; 
 
 And some that loved him most, as if unblest. 
 
 Bedewed with tears the white wreath on his breast. 
 
 But he is gone, and dwells in that abode, 
 
 Where some of every clime must joy in God ! t 
 
 MORAN, THE VENTRILOQUIST. 
 
 Some years ago one Moran, a slater, possessed 
 the faculty of ventriloquism in a very extraordina- 
 ry degree; from the tops of the houses he could 
 accost travellers in the streets, in a voice that 
 seemed to proceed from the next passenger. 
 This man was employed to work at the new epis- 
 copal palace, built by Primate Robinson, at Ar- 
 magh. One morning, a labourer, who wrought 
 about the premises, was terrified by a hollow and 
 dismal voice, that proceeded from a dark cellar in 
 a house that had belonged to the late Thomas 
 
MORAN THE VENTRILOQUIST. 109 
 
 Ogle, which his Grace the Primate had given 
 orders to pull down. He was summoned, in a 
 manner that he found it impossible to resist, to 
 descend into the dark terrific vault. , Trembling, 
 agitated, and perspiring at every pore* he obeyed 
 the awful mandate. When he was in the cellar, 
 profound silence prevailed for a few minutes. 
 The same voice then solemnly uttered these tre- 
 mendous words: “I am the spirit of a murderer; 
 to-night I will visit you in the little room of your 
 kitchen, and communicate to you the horrid 
 crimes I have committed. If you regard your 
 life here, or your salvation hereafter, meet me in 
 that room at twelve o’clock.” The poor labourer 
 was unable to utter a syllable, and with trembling 
 knees he betook himself to his house, sent for the 
 vicar of his parish, and encouraged by his pres- 
 ence, awaited the approach of the awful hour. 
 Twelve o’clock, however, came, but the spirit 
 came not. — Next morning he was obliged to re- 
 sume his work; when he came opposite the same 
 spot, the same voice again accosted him, but in a 
 more elevated and angry tone, “ Beware how you 
 bring with you the vicar to our interview. This 
 night let me meet you alone, at twelve o’clock, or 
 your destruction will ensue.” The wretched 
 labourer, thus beset, as he thought, by preterna- 
 tural powers, obeyed. At a quarter before twelve 
 o’clock, he was seated at a little table in his room. 
 His apparatus, for defence against the spiritual 
 visitant, was a bible, a sword, and a bottle of 
 whiskey. His pallid lips were alternately applied 
 in ejaculating pious prayers to Heaven, or 
 swallowing exhilarating drams; and his trembling 
 hands now and then grasped, and then dropped the 
 useless steel, as his courage rose and fell. 
 
 10 
 
110 PORTRAITS OP CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 Meanwhile, his wife and daughters stood almost 
 breathless at the outside of the door, counting the 
 tickings of a cuckoo clock. At length, at the 
 first sound of the expected hour, a deep groan 
 was heard in the room, and a noise, which, to 
 their affrighted ears, seem to resemble the fall of a 
 thunderbolt. The poor labourer had dropped 
 down, powerless on the floor. His imagination 
 had overpowered him, and at the first stroke of 
 the clock, he had tumbled on the ground, a sense- 
 less lump. All his vital powers were suspended 
 for a long time; and, after their revival, the poor 
 fellow was deprived for a considerable period of 
 the exercise of his understanding; and, if it had 
 not been for the humanity of William Johnson, 
 father to the celebrated architect, of Dublin, he 
 would have perished, a wretched victim to the 
 tricks of Moran, the ventriloquist. 
 
 HUGH WILLIAMS. 
 
 In the year 1664, on the 5th of December, a 
 boat on the Menai, crossing that strait, with 
 eighty-one passengers, was upset, and only one pas- 
 senger, named Hugh Williams, was saved. On 
 the same day, in the year 1785, was upset another 
 boat, containing about sixty persons, and every 
 soul perished, with the exception of one , whose 
 name also was Hugh Williams. And on the 5th 
 of August , 1820, a third boat met the same disas- 
 ter; but the passengers of this were no more than 
 twenty-five, and, singular to relate, the whole 
 perished with the exception of one , whose name 
 was Hugh Williams . — Bristol Mercury. 
 
SIR HARRY DIMSDALE. 
 
 Ill 
 
 SIR HARRY DIMSDALE, 
 
 MAYOR OF GARRATT. 
 
 Some doubt exists as to the origin of the Mayors 
 ofGarratt; though they are generally believed to 
 have taken their rise from a frolic towards the 
 close of the seventeenth century, when some 
 
112 PORTRAITS OP CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 watermen, during an election, determined on 
 passing a merry day at Garratt, a district in the 
 parish of Wandsworth, in Surry, took into their 
 heads to choose one of their company representa- 
 tive of that place. Ever since, at a general elec- 
 tion, the custom has been generally kept up, and 
 the Mayor, who is usually a cripple or an idiot, is 
 elected. The crowd collected on such occasions, 
 occasioned a sort of fair, and the election, on this 
 account, perhaps, was principally encouraged. 
 The last Mayor of Garratt was Sir Harry Dims- 
 dale, as he was called; for the power which made 
 him representative of Garratt, conferred on him the 
 honor of knighthood. 
 
 This poor idiot was^ born in Shug-lane, Hay- 
 market, in the year 1758. Of his early pursuits 
 little is known; but we find him in 1788, receiving 
 parochial relief from St. Martin’s parish: his trade 
 at that time was vending “ bobbins, thread, and 
 stay-laces for the ladies:” he next commenced 
 muffin dealer; by which he rendered himself very 
 conspicuous about the streets of London. His 
 harmless behaviour gained him many customers, 
 and life rolled on gaily and smoothly, till ‘ ambition 
 fired his soul;’ and he aspired to the honor of 
 representing the borough of Garratt, on the death 
 of that celebrated character, Sir Jeffrey Dunstan; 
 and in which he was successful. Sir Harry was 
 elected to fill the important station of Mayor of 
 Garratt, during four parliaments; though not with- 
 out experiencing violent opposition in the persons 
 of Squire Jobson the bill-sticker, Lord Goring 
 the ministerial barber, and others. The following 
 is a copy of his address to his constituents, at the 
 general election in 1807. 
 
SIR HARRY DIMSDALE. 
 
 113 
 
 To the worthy, free, and independent 
 
 Electors of the ancient borough of Garratt. 
 
 Gentlemen, — Once more you are called on to 
 exercise your invaluable right, the elective fran- 
 chise, for your ancient and honorable borough, 
 and once more your faithful representative, for the 
 three last parliaments, offers himself a candi- 
 date. 
 
 Gentlemen, as all the Talents were lately dis- 
 missed, disgracefully, it is requisite I should de- 
 clare to you, I held no place under them. I am, 
 gentlemen, no milk and water patriot — I am no 
 summer insect — I have always been a champion 
 for the rights and privileges of my constituents — 
 and as we have now an entire change of men, I 
 hope, as they are called by many all the Blocks, 
 they will see the necessity of calling to their aid 
 and assistance, men who have long been hid in 
 obscurity — men whose virtue and integrity may 
 shine at this awful crisis — and, gentlemen, should 
 they at length see their interest so clear, as to call 
 into action my abilities, I declare I am ready to 
 accept any place under them, but I am determined 
 to act on independent principles, as my worthy 
 colleague, Lord Cochrane, so loudly and so 
 often swore on the hustings, at Covent Garden. 
 
 Gentlemen, I congratulate you on the defeat of 
 Sixpenny Jack, ; he was obliged to hop off and 
 leave the laurel of victory to Sir Francis Burdett 
 and my worthy colleague Lord Cochrane, and 
 should any Quixotic candidate be hardy enough 
 to contest with me the high honor of representing 
 your ancient borough, I have no doubt, by your 
 manly exertions, you will completely triumph over 
 my opponent. In times past, you have had 
 confidence in my wisdom and integrity — you have 
 
 10 * 
 
114 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 looked up to me as your guardian angel — and I 
 hope you have not been deceived; for, believe 
 me, when I repeat what I so often have done, I 
 am rqady to sacrifice life, health, and fortune, in 
 defence of the invaluable rights, privileges, 
 and immunities of your ancient and honorable 
 borough. * I am, &c. ' 
 
 Sir Harry Dimsdale. 
 
 From my attic chamber, 
 
 The dirty end of Monmouth-street, 
 
 June 10, 1807. 
 
 In this contest, Sir Harry was again successful, 
 and his procession to Garratt-lane, exceeded any 
 thing of the kind ever seen in London. He was 
 placed (or rather, tied) on an eminence in a 
 carriage somewhat resembling a triumphal car, 
 drawn by four horses, . which were profusely 
 decorated with dyed wood shavings — a substitute 
 for ribands. The dress of Sir Harry was perfect- 
 ly en suite; and the tout ensemble a rare display of 
 eccentric magnificence. Solomon, in all his glory, 
 was not arrayed like the Mayor of Garratt, on this 
 memorable day. 
 
 And now, for a short time, all was sunshine with 
 Sir Harry; yet, he found something was wanting 
 to complete his happiness, and he resolved on 
 taking to his bosom a wife; a suitable object 
 presenting herself in the person of an inmate of 
 St. Ann’s workhouse. In a few weeks after the con- 
 summation of their nuptials, his rib, with the utmost 
 good-nature, presented him with a son and heir, of 
 which he was very proud. 
 
 In addition to his Mayoralty, he was nominated 
 as a proper person to be opposed to the then all- 
 powerful Buonaparte, whereupon he was elected 
 Emperor. His garb now assumed all the show of 
 
A GOOD PATIENT. t 115 
 
 royalty; but unlike most monarchs, he carried his 
 crown in his hand; it not being correct, he said, 
 for him to wear it till he had ousted his more 
 powerful rival. In this character, Sir Harry 
 levied pretty handsome, contributions on the good 
 people of London; but the novelty of his person 
 at length lost most of its attractions; he became 
 neglected; illness seized him; and he died in the 
 year 1811, in the 53d year of his age. 
 
 By his death, the boys were deprived of an 
 object of ridicule, and the compassionate man 
 spared the painful task of witnessing so harmless a 
 being tormented and ill-used by the unfeeling and 
 the heedless: for, as Shakspeare says, 
 
 God made him. 
 
 Therefore let him pass for a man. 
 
 A GOOD PATIENT. 
 
 » 
 
 At the Lincoln Assizes in March 1817, an ac- 
 tion was brought by Mr. Wright, an apothecary of 
 Bottesford, against a Mr. Jessop, a bachelor of 
 opulence, residing near Lincoln, to recover the 
 sum of 787/. 18s. for medicine and attendance, 
 during 25 years. By the statement of plaintiff’s 
 counsel, it appeared that the defendant was of a 
 hypochondriacal turn, and had taken pills for a 
 great number of years; he used to have from GOO 
 to 2000 pills sent to him at a time; and in one 
 year he took 51,000! being at the rate of 150 
 a-day. There were also thousands of bottles of 
 mixture. From the ravenous propensity of the 
 patient for physic, it was deemed necessary to call 
 in two physicians, who inquiring of the defendant 
 what was the course of medicine and nourishment 
 
116 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 he pursued through the day, answered as fol- 
 lows: — At half past two o’clock in the morning I 
 take two spoonsful and a half of jalap and then a 
 quantity of electuary; then I sleep till seven, and 
 repeat the dose of both jalap and electuary; at 
 nine o’clock I take 14 pills of No. 9, and 11 pills 
 of No. 10, to whet my appetite for breakfast. At 
 breakfast I eat a basin of milk, at eleven I have an 
 acid and alkali mixture, afterwards I have a bolus, 
 and at nine at night I have an anodyne mixture and 
 go to sleep.” After some progress had been made 
 in the evidence, a compromise took place, the 
 plaintiff accepting a verdict for -450/. ! 
 
 MARRIOT THE GLUTTON. 
 
 Marriot was a lawyer of Gray’s Inn, who piqued 
 himself on the brutal qualification of a voracious 
 appetite, and a powerful digestive faculty, attain- 
 ments which at most could only rank him in the 
 same scale of beings as the cormorant or the 
 ostrich. 
 
 Marriot increased his natural capacity for food 
 by art and application, and had as much vanity in 
 eating to excess as any monk ever had in absti- 
 nence. 
 
 Great eaters have been found in all ages, from 
 the time of Herodotus, the wrestler of Megara, 
 who would eat as much as ought to serve his whole 
 company, down to the fellow backed by Sir John 
 Lade, some years ago, against a glutton provided 
 by the Duke of Queensbury. We do not recollect 
 how much these fellows devoured, but the umpires 
 declared that one man beat the other by a pig and 
 an apple-pie. 
 
OLD BOOTY’S GHOST. 
 
 117 
 
 OLD BOOTY’S GHOST. 
 
 The following is a remarkable observation 
 which was entered in Mr. Spink’s Journal, and an 
 account of Mr. Barnaby’s trial at the Court of 
 King’s Bench, concerning Mr. Booty, a brewer 
 in London. 
 
 “ Tuesday, May the 13th, this day the wind was 
 S. S. W., and a little before four in the afternoon, 
 we anchored in Manser Road, where lay Captains 
 Bristo, Brian, and Barnaby, all of them bound to 
 Lucera, to load. Wednesday, May the 13th, we 
 weighed ancho^r, and in the afternoon I went on 
 board of Captain Barnaby, and about two o’clock, 
 we sailed all of us for the island of Lucera, wind 
 W. S. W. and bitter weather. Thursday the 14th, 
 about two o’clock, we saw the island, and all 
 come to an anchor in twelve fathoms’ water, the 
 wind was W. S. W., and on the 15th day of May, we 
 had an observation of Mr. Booty in the following 
 manner: Captains Bristo, Brian and Barnaby went 
 on shore shooting ofcolues on Strombolo. When 
 we had done we called our men together, and 
 about fourteen minutes after three in the afternoon, 
 to our great surprise, we saw two men run by us 
 with amazing swiftness; Captain Barnaby says, 
 Lord bless me, the foremost man looks like my 
 next door neighbour, Old Booty; but said, he did 
 not know the other behind. Booty was dressed in 
 grey clothes, and the one behind him in black; 
 we saw them run into the burning mountain in the 
 midst of the flames, on which we heard a terrible 
 noise, too horrible to be described; Captain Bar- 
 naby then desired us to look at our watches, pen 
 the time down in our pocket books, and enter it in 
 our journals, which we accordingly did. When 
 
118 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 | 
 
 we were laden, we all sailed for England, and 
 arrived at Gravesend on the 6th of October, 1687; 
 Mrs. Barnaby and Mrs. Brian came to congrat- 
 ulate our safe arrival, and after some discourse, 
 Captain Barnaby ’s wife says, “My dear, I have got 
 some news to tell you, Old Booty is dead.” He 
 swore an oath, and said, “We all saw him run into 
 hell.” 
 
 Some time afterwards, Mrs. Barnaby met with a 
 lady of her acquaintance in London, and told her 
 what her husband had seen, concerning Mr. 
 Booty; it came to Mrs. Booty’s ears; who arrested 
 Captain Barnaby in 1000/. action. He gave bail, 
 and it came to trial at the court of ^King’s Bench, 
 where Mr. Booty’s clothes were brought into court. 
 The sexton of the parish and the people that were 
 with him during his illness swore to the time when 
 he died, and we swore to our journals, and they 
 came within two minutes; twelve of our men 
 swore that the buttons of his coat were covered 
 with the same grey cloth, ’and it appeared to be 
 so. The jury asked Mr. Spink if he knew Mr. 
 Booty in his lifetime ; he said he never saw him till 
 he saw him go by him into the burning mountain. 
 The judge then said, “ Lord grant I may never 
 see the sight that you have seen; one, two or 
 three, may be mistaken, but twenty or thirty can- 
 not;” so the widow lost the cause. 
 
 N. B. It is now in the Records at Westminster. James the 
 Second, 1687. 
 
 Herbert, Chief Justice. 
 
 Wythens, 
 
 . Halloway, 
 and Wright, 
 
 ^ Justices. 
 
OLD PARR. 
 
 119 
 
 THOMAS PARR. 
 
 Thomas Parr was the son of John Parr, a 
 husbandman of Winninton, in the parish of Alder- 
 buiy, in the county of Salop, where he was horn 
 in the year 1483. Though he lived to the vast 
 age of upwards of 15 L 2 years, yet the tenour of his 
 life admitted but of little variety. He appears 
 to have been the son of a husbandman; he 
 laboured hard, and lived on coarse fare. Taylor, 
 the Water Poet, says of him, 
 
 Good wholesome labour was his exercise, 
 
 Down with the lamb, and with the lark he ! d rise; 
 
 In mire and toiling sweat he spent the day, 
 
 And to his team he whistled time away: 
 
 The cock his night-clock, and till day was done, 
 
 His watch and chief time-keeper was the sun. 
 
 He was of old Pythagoras’ opinion, 
 
 That green cheese was most wholesome with an onion: 
 Coarse maslin bread, and for his daily swig, 
 
 Milk, butter-milk, and water, whey and whig: 
 
 Sometimes metheglin ; and by fortune happy, 
 
 He sometimes sipp’d a cup of ale most nappy, 
 
 Cyder or perry, when he did repair 
 T’a Whitsun ale wake, weddings or a fair; 
 
 Or when in Christmas-time he was a guest, 
 
 At his good landlord’s house amongst the rest ; 
 
 Else he had little leisure-time to waste; 
 
 Or at the ale-house huff-cap ale to taste. 
 
 * * * 
 
 His physic was good butter, which the soil 
 Of Salop yields, more sweet than Candy oil; 
 
 And garlick he esteem’d above the rate 
 Of Venice treacle, or best mithridate. 
 
 He entertain’d no gout, no ache he felt, 
 
 The air was good and temperate where he dwelt; 
 
 While mavisses and sweet-longued nightingales 
 Did chant him roundelays and madrigals. 
 
 Thus living within bounds of Nature’s laws. 
 
 Of his long-lasting life may be some cause. 
 
120 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 And the same writer describes him in the follow- 
 ing two lines: 
 
 From heifd to heel, his body had all over 
 A quick set, thick set, natural hairy cover. 
 
 The manner of his being conducted to London 
 is also noticed in the following terms: “ The 
 Right Hon. Thomas, Earl of Arundel and Surrey, 
 Earl Marshal of England, on being lately in 
 Shropshire, to visit some lands and manors which 
 his Lordship held in that county, or for some 
 other occasions of importance which caused his 
 Lordship to be there, the report of this aged man 
 was signified to his Honor, who hearing of so 
 remarkable a piece of antiquity, his Lordship was 
 pleased to see him; and in his innate noble, and 
 Christian piety, he took him into his charitable 
 tuition and protection, commanding that a litter 
 and two horses (for the more easy carriage of a 
 man so feeble and worn with age) be provided 
 for him; also that a daughter of his, named Lucy, 
 should likewise attend him, and have a horse for 
 her own riding with him: and to cheer up the old 
 man and make him merry, there was an antique- 
 faced fellow with a high and mighty beard, that 
 had also a horse for his carriage. These were all 
 to be brought out of the country to London by 
 easy journeys, the charge being allowed by his 
 Lordship; likewise one of his Lordship’s own 
 servants, named Bryan Kelly, to ride on horse- 
 back with them, and to attend and defray all man- 
 ner of reckonings and expenses. 
 
 £C In London, he was well entertained and ac- 
 commodated with all things, having all the afore- 
 said attendance at the sole charge and cost of his 
 Lordship.’’ 
 
 When brought before the King, his majesty, with 
 
OLD TARR. 
 
 121 
 
 more acuteness than good-manners, said to him, 
 “You have lived longer than other men; what 
 have you done more than other men?” He an- 
 swered, “ I did penance when I was a hundred 
 years old.” “For shame, old man,” said the 
 King, “ to recollect nothing but your vices.” 
 
 This journey, however, proved fatal to him; 
 owing to the alteration in his diet, the change of 
 the air, and his general mode ol lite, he lived but 
 a very short time, dying the 5th of November, 
 1635, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. 
 
 After his death his body was opened, and 
 an account was drawn up. by the celebrated 
 Dr. Harvey, some part of which we shall ex- 
 tract. 
 
 “ Thomas Parr was a poor countryman of 
 Shropshire, whence he was brought up to London 
 by the Right Hon. Thomas Earl of Arundel and 
 Surrey, and died after he had outlived nine 
 Princes, in the tenth year of the tenth of them, at 
 the age of 152 years and nine months. 
 
 • “ He had a large breast, lungs not fungous, 
 
 but sticking to his ribs, and distended with blood; 
 a lividness in his face, as he had a difficulty of 
 breathing a little before his death, and a long last- 
 ing warmth in his armpits and breast after it; 
 which signs, together with others, were as evident 
 in his body, as they used to be on those that die 
 by suffocation. His lieart was great, thick, 
 fibrous, and fat. The blood in the heart blackish 
 and diluted. The cartilages of the sternum not 
 more bony than in others, but flexile and soft. 
 His viscera were sound and strong, especially 
 the stomach; and it was observed of him, that he 
 used to eat often by night and day, though con- 
 tented with old cheese, milk, coarse bread, small- 
 
 11 
 
122 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 beer, and whey; and, which is more remarkable, 
 that he eat at midnight a little before he died. 
 
 “ The cause of his death was imputed chiefly to 
 the change of food and air; forasmuch as coming 
 out of a clear, thin, and free air, he came into the 
 thick air of London; and after a constant plain 
 and homely country diet, he was taken into a 
 splendid family, where he fed high and drank 
 plentifully of the best wines, whereupon the 
 natural functions of the parts of his body were 
 overcharged, his lungs obstructed, and the habit 
 of the whole body quite disordered; upon which 
 there could not but ensue a dissolution. 
 
 “ The brain was sound, entire, and firm; an»d 
 though he had not the use of his eyes, nor much 
 of his memory, several years before he died, yet 
 he had his hearing and apprehension very well, 
 and was able even to the hundred and thirtieth 
 year of his age to do any husbandman’s work, 
 even threshing of corn.” 
 
 1 Taylor the Water poet, says, that Parr took his last 
 lease of his landlord for his life, but being desirous 
 for his wife’s sake to renew it for years, which his 
 landlord would not consent to, he, to give himself 
 the appearance of rejuvenescence, adopted the 
 following trick: “ Having been long blind, sitting 
 in his chair by the fire, his wife looked out of the 
 window, and perceiving Edward Porter, the son of 
 his landlord, to come towards their house, she 
 told her husband, saying, ‘ Our landlord is coming 
 hither: ’ c Is it so, ’ said old Parr, c I prithee, 
 wife, lay a pin on the ground near my foot, or at 
 my right toe;’ which she did; and when young 
 master Porter, yet forty years old, was come into 
 the house, after salutations between them, the old 
 man said, c Wife, is not that a pin on the ground 
 
THE BOTTLE CONJURER. 
 
 123 
 
 near my foot?’ ‘ Truly, husband,’ quoth she, 
 * it is a pin indeed;’ so she took up the pin, and 
 Master Porter was half in amaze, that the old 
 man had recovered his sight again. But it was 
 quickly found out to be a witty conceit, thereby 
 to have them suppose him to be more lively than 
 he was, because he hoped to have his lease renewed 
 for his wife’s sake.” 
 
 Rubens saw Parr at. Shrewsbury, when he was 
 above 140 years of age, and painted him. The 
 picture represents Parr with a complexion as 
 delicately incarnat-ed as that of a young woman. 
 
 THE BOTTLE CONJURER. 
 
 WHET£-_conjurers the quality can bubble, 
 
 And get their gold with very little trouble, 
 
 By putting giddy lies in public papers, — 
 
 As jumping in quart bottles, — such like vapours ; 
 
 And further yet, if we the matter strain. 
 
 Would pipe a tune upon a walking cane ; 
 
 Nay, more surprising tricks ! he swore he’d show, 
 Grannams who died a hundred years ago : — 
 
 ’Tis whimsical enough, what think ye, Sirs ? 
 
 The quality can ne’er be conjurers, 
 
 The de’el a bit ; — no, let me speak in brief, 
 
 The audience fools, the conjurer a thief. 
 
 London Magazine for 1749. 
 
 We cannot perhaps select a more laughable 
 hoax than that remarkable one which was played 
 upon the good people of London in the year 1749, 
 by the facetious Duke of Montague, and which 
 has ever since been referred to as a proof of hu- 
 man credulity. This nobleman being in company 
 with some friends, the conversation turned on 
 public curiosity, when the duke said it went so far, 
 
124 PORTRAITS OP CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 that if a person advertised that he would creep 
 into a quart bottle, he would get an audience. 
 Some of the company could not believe this possi- 
 ble; a wager was the result, and the duke, in 
 order to decide it, caused the following advertise- 
 ment to be put in all the papers. 
 
 cc At the New Theatre in the Hay Market on 
 Monday next, the 16th inst. to be seen a person 
 who performs the several most surprising things 
 following, viz. First, he takes a common walking- 
 cane from any of the spectators, and thereon 
 plays the music of every instrument now in use, 
 and likewise sings to surprising perfection. Sec- 
 ondly, he presents you with a common wine-bottle, 
 which any of the spectators may first examine ; this 
 bottle is placed on a table in the middle of the 
 stage, and he (without any equivocation) goes into 
 it in sight of all the spectators, and sings in it; 
 during his stay in the bottle, any person may 
 handle it, and see plainly that it does not exceed 
 a common tavern bottle. 
 
 Those on the stage or in the boxes may come 
 in masked habits (if agreeable to them); and the 
 performer (if desired) will inform them who they 
 are. 
 
 Stage 7s. 6ck Boxes 5s. Pit 3s. Gallery 2s. To 
 begin at half an hour after six o’clock. 
 
 Tickets to be had at the theatre. 
 
 The performance continues about two hours 
 and a half. 
 
 N. B. If any gentleman or lady, after the 
 above performances (either singly or in company, 
 in or out of mask) are desirous of seeing a 
 representation of any deceased person, such as 
 husband or wife, sister or brother, or any intimate 
 
THE BOTTLE CONJURER. 
 
 125 
 
 friend of either sex, (upon making a gratuity to 
 the performer) shall be gratified by seeing and 
 conversing with them for some minutes as if alive, 
 likewise (i£ desired) fie will tell you the most 
 secret thoughts in your past life; and give you a 
 full view of persons who have injured you, whether 
 dead or alive. 
 
 For those gentlemen and ladies who are de- 
 sirous of seeing this last part, there is a private 
 room provided. 
 
 These performances have been seen by most of 
 the crowned heads of Asia , Africa, and Europe, 
 and never appeared public any where” but once; 
 but will wait on any at their houses, and perform 
 as above, for five pounds each time. 
 
 *** There will he a proper guard to keep the 
 house in due decorum.” 
 
 The following advertisement was also published 
 at the same time, which one would have thought 
 sufficient to prevent the former having any ef- 
 fect. 
 
 <f Lately arrived from Italy, 
 
 Signor Capitello Jumpedo, a surprising dwarf, no 
 taller than a common tavern tobacco pipe; who 
 can perform many wonderful equilibres, on the 
 slack or tight rope: likewise he’ll transform his 
 body in above ten thousand different shapes and 
 postures; and after he has diverted the spectators 
 two hours and a half, he will open his mouth wide, 
 and jump down his own throat. He being the 
 most wonderfullest wonder of wonders as ever the 
 world wondered at, would be willing to join in per- 
 formance with that surprising musician on Monday 
 next in the Hay Market. 
 
 He is to be spoken with at the Black Raven in 
 11 * 
 
126 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 Golden-lane every day from seven till twelve, and 
 from twelve all day long.” 
 
 The bait ljowevertook even betterthan could have 
 been expected. The playhouse was crowded with 
 dukes, duchesses, lords, ladies, and all® ranks and 
 degrees to witness the bottle-conjurer. Of the 
 result, we quote the following account from the 
 journals of the time. 
 
 “ Last night (viz. Monday the 16 th) the much 
 expected drama of the bottle conjurer of the New 
 theatre in the Hay Market, ended in the Iragi-comi- 
 cal manner following. Curiosity had drawn to- 
 gether prodigious numbers. About seven the 
 theatre being lighted up, but without so much as a 
 single fiddle to keep the audience in good-humor, 
 many grew impatient. Immediately followed a 
 chorus of catcalls, heightened by loud vocifera- 
 tions, and beating with sticks; when a fellow came 
 from behind the curtain, and bowing, said, that if 
 the performer did not appear, the money should be 
 returned. At the same time a wag crying out 
 from the pit, that if the ladies and gentlemen 
 would give double prices, the conjurer would get 
 into a pint bottle, presently a young gentleman in 
 one of the boxes seized a lighted candle, and 
 threw it on the stage. This served as the charge 
 for sounding to battle. Upon this the greater 
 part of the audience made the best of their way 
 out of the theatre; some losing a cloak, others a 
 hat, others a wig, and others hat, wig, and swords 
 also. One party however staid in the house, in 
 order to demolish the inside, when the mob 
 breaking in, they tore up the benches, broke to 
 pieces the scenes, pulled down the boxes, in short 
 dismantled the theatre entirely, carrying away the 
 particulars above-mentioned into the street, where 
 
I 
 
 THE BOTTLE CONJURER. 127 * 
 
 they made a mighty bonfire; the curtain being 
 hoisted on a pole, by way of a flag. A large 
 party of guards were sent for, but came time 
 enough only to warm themselves round the fire. 
 We hear of no other disaster than a young noble- 
 man’s chin being hurt, occasioned by his fall into 
 the pit, with part of one of the boxes, which he had 
 forced out with his foot. ’Tis thought the conjur- 
 er vanished away with the bank. Many enemies 
 to the late celebrated book, concerning the 
 ceasing of miracles, are greatly disappointed by 
 the conjurer’s non-appearance in the bottle; they 
 imagining that his jumping into it would have been 
 the most convincing proof possible, that miracles 
 have not yet ceased.” 
 
 Several advertisements were printed afterwards, 
 some serious, others comical, relating to this 
 whimsical affair; among the rest was the follow- 
 ing, which, we hope, may be the means of curing 
 this humor for the future. 
 
 ct This is to inform the Public, 
 
 That notwithstanding the great abuse that has 
 been put upon the gentry, there is now in town a 
 man, who, instead of creeping into a quart or pint 
 bottle, will change himself into a rattle; which he 
 hopes will please both young and old. If this person 
 meets with encouragement to this advertisement, 
 he will then acquaint the gentry were and when 
 he performs.” 
 
 The reason assigned, in another humorous 
 advertisement, for the conjurer’s not going into 
 the quart bottle, was, that after searching all the 
 taverns, not one could be found due measure. 
 
 I 
 
128 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 CONJURER BAKER. 
 
 Richard Baker, of Westleigh, in the parish of 
 Burliscombe, Somersetshire, a small farmer (but 
 better known by the name of “ Conjurer Baker”) 
 died in 1819, full of years and iniquities, being 
 seventy years old, and having, during the far 
 greater part of his life, practised the gainful tactics 
 of the cc Black Art.” In noticing the death of a 
 character who, for nearly half a century, has been 
 daily and hourly employed in alternately counting 
 the wages of his villanies, and in laughing at the 
 follies of a cheated multitude, it would be no unfit 
 opportunity for taxing the risibility of our readers, 
 by portraying the deceased knave with all the 
 mirthful embellishments of which his life and 
 occupations are so abundantly susceptible. In 
 common justice, we might for once laugh at him, 
 who has, in so many thousand instances, amused 
 and profited himself by making a jest of others; 
 but his life is too much clogged with the heaviness 
 of a guilty account, to allow one redeeming ray 
 to qualify the lurid aspect of his mortal reckoning. 
 It may surprise .the distant reader, whose ears 
 have never been afflicted with the doleful super- 
 stitions of the western countries, to be informed, 
 that such was the fame of the deceased wizard, 
 that the educated as well as the uninstructed of all 
 classes, were in the habit of resorting to him from all 
 parts of this and the neighboring counties for the 
 exercise of his cabalistic skill, and on a Sunday, 
 which was the day for his high orgies, vehicles of 
 superior as well as of lowly descriptions were found 
 to bring him an eager throng of votaries. His 
 reputation was universal, and his gains proportion- 
 ate. The wonders of his art would fill the 
 
CONJURER BAKER. 
 
 129 
 
 Alexandrian library. Bad crops, lost cattle, lost 
 treasure, and lost hearts, brought their respective 
 sufferers in ceaseless crowds to his door. They 
 were all overlooked, he said; and they overlooked 
 his knavery in their confidence of his skill. He 
 foretold to the Southcottians that the Shiloh would 
 not come, and who but a conjurer would have 
 known this ? The tenant of sterile land was, after a 
 careful inspection of his presiding star, advised to 
 provide a certain quantity of manure, which being 
 spread over his ground in the form of rams horns at 
 twelve o’clock precisely on the full moon night, 
 would infallibly secure a good crop. This 
 astonishing prediction has been repeatedly veri- 
 fied ! Strayed stock and mislaid property have 
 been strangely recovered, by only being well 
 looked after, provided the wise man had once 
 taken the matter in hand ; and many a relenting 
 Phillis, who had parted with her Strephon in a 
 huff, has been heard to exclaim, on finding him 
 return at the very hour calculated by the conjurer, 
 that “ sure Baker and the devil were in partnership.” 
 If to juggling artifices and petty fooleries of this 
 description, the man had limited his imposture, 
 he might have left the world with the simple repu- 
 tation of a knave; but his avarice led him to de- 
 lude the victim of disease into a fatal reliance on 
 his affected skill, and very numerous are the 
 instances of this description. Charmed powders 
 and mystic lotions were confided in, to the exclu- 
 sion of rational advice and proper remedies, and 
 the death of the old and young has been the con- 
 sequent penalty of such deplorable imbecility. A 
 child died at Wellington, a martyr to its mother’s 
 folly of this nature. She consulted the heartless 
 villain, and was assured that the infant was 
 
130 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 “ overlooked.’’ Some powders were given to her, 
 accompanied with the slang verbosity of his craft, 
 which the little sufferer was compelled to swallow, 
 notwithstanding the mother declared that “ it 
 made her heart bleed to see the agonies of her 
 child while taking the dose.’’ The consequence 
 was as we have stated; and thus the guilt of a 
 cold-blooded murder is superadded to the atroci- 
 ties which have marked the career of this mis- 
 creant through life. His habits were those of an 
 unsocial drunkard; but his necromancy, notwith- 
 standing the expense of his selfish indulgence, 
 enabled him to leave some property. 
 
 AN IRISH WILL. 
 
 The following is a copy of a will made by a 
 miser in Ireland: “I give and bequeath to my 
 sister-in-law Mary Dennis, four old worsted 
 stockings, which she will find underneath my bed; 
 to my nephew Charles Macartney, two other 
 pair of stockings, lying in the box where I keep 
 my linen; to Lieutenant Johnson, of his Majesty’s 
 fifth regiment of foot, my only pair of white cotton 
 stockings, and my old scarlet great-coat; and to 
 Hannah Bourke, my house-keeper, in return 
 for her long and faithful services, my cracked 
 earthen pitcher.” Hannah, in anger, told the 
 other legatees, that she resigned to them her 
 valuable share of the property, and then retired. 
 In equal rage, Charles kicked down the pitcher; 
 and, as it broke, a multitude of guineas burst out, 
 and rolled along the floor. This fortunate dis- 
 covery induced those present to examine the 
 stockings, which to their great joy were crammed 
 with money. . - . 
 
MARY EAST, THE FEMALE HUSBAND. 
 
 131 
 
 MARY EAST, THE FEMALE HUSBAND. 
 
 About the year 1736, a young fellow courted one 
 Mary East, and for him she conceived the greatest 
 liking ; but he, going upon the highway, was tried 
 for a robbery and cast, but was afterwards trans- 
 ported : this so affected our heroine, that she re- 
 solved ever to remain single. In the same neigh- 
 bourhood lived another young woman, who had 
 likewise met with many crosses in love, and had 
 determined on the like resolution ; being intimate, 
 they communicated their minds to each other, and 
 determined to live together ever after. After con- 
 suiting on the best method of proceeding, they 
 agreed that one should put on man’s apparel, and 
 that they would live as man and wife in some part 
 where they were not known : the difficulty now 
 was who was to be the man, which was soon de- 
 cided, by the toss up of a halfpenny , and the lot fell 
 on Mary East, who was then about sixteen years of 
 age, and her partner seventeen. The sum they 
 were then possessed of together, was about £30 ; 
 with this they sat out, and Mary, after purchasing a 
 man’s habit, assumed the name of James How, by 
 which we will for a while distinguish her. In the 
 progress of their journey, they happened to light on 
 a little public-house at Epping, which was to let ; 
 they took it, and lived in it for some time : about 
 this period a quarrel happened between James How 
 and a young gentleman. James entered an action 
 against him, and obtained damages of £500, which 
 was paid him. Possessed of this sum, they sought 
 out for a place in a better situation, and took a 
 public-house in Limehouse-hole, where they lived 
 many years, saving money, still cohabiting as man 
 and wife, in good credit and esteem : they after- 
 
13 2 „ PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 wards left this and removed to the White Horse at 
 Poplar, which they bought, and after that several 
 more houses. 
 
 About the year 1750, one Mrs. Bentley, who 
 lived on Garlick-hill, and was acquainted with James 
 in her younger days, knowing in what good cir- 
 cumstances she lived, and of her being a woman, 
 thought this a good scheme to build a project on, 
 and accordingly sent to her for £10, at the same 
 time intimating that if she would not send it, she 
 would discover her sex. James, fearful of this, 
 complied with her demand, and sent the money. It 
 rested here for a considersble time, in which time 
 James lived with his supposed wife in good credit, 
 and had served all the parish offices in Poplar, ex- 
 cepting constable and church warden, from the 
 former of which she was excused by a lameness in 
 her hand, occasioned by the quarrel already men- 
 tioned ; the other she was to have been next year, 
 if this discovery had not happened : she had been 
 several times foreman of juries ; though her effemi- 
 nacy indeed was remarked by most. At Christmas,. 
 1765, Mrs. Bentley sent again with the same de- 
 mand for £10, and with the like threatening obtained 
 it : flushed with success, dnd not yet contented, she 
 within a fortnight after sent again for the like sum, 
 which James at that time happened not to have in 
 the house : however, still fearful and cautious of a 
 discovery, she sent her £5. The supposed wife of 
 James How now died, and the same conscionable 
 Mrs. Bentley now thought of some scheme to en- 
 large her demand : for this purpose she got two fel- 
 lows to execute her plan, the one a mulatto, who 
 was to pass for one of Justice Fielding’s gang, the 
 other to be equipped with a short pocket staff, and 
 to act as constable. In these characters they came 
 to the White Horse, and inquired for Mr. How, 
 
133 
 
 MARY EAST, THE FEMALE HUSBAND 
 
 who answered to the name ; they told her that they 
 came from Justice Fielding to take her into custody 
 for a robbery committed by her thirty-four years ago, 
 and moreover that she was a woman. Terrified to 
 the greatest degree on account of her sex, though 
 conscious of her innocence in regard to the robbery, 
 an intimate acquaintance, one Mr. Williams, a pawn- 
 broker, happening to be passing by, she called to 
 him, and told him the business those two men came 
 about, and withall added this declaration to Mr. 
 'Williams : I am really a woman, but innocent of 
 their charge. On this sincere confession he told 
 her she should not be carried to Fielding, but go 
 before her own bench of justices ; that he would 
 just step home, put on a clean shirt, and be back in 
 live minutes. At his departure, the two fellows 
 threatened James How, but at the same time told 
 her, that if she would give them <£100, they would 
 trouble her no more ; if not, she would be hanged 
 in sixteen days, and they should have £40 a piece 
 each for hanging her. Notwithstanding these threat- 
 enings she would not give them the money ; waiting 
 with impatience till the return of Mr. Williams : on 
 her denial, they immediately forced her out, and 
 took her near the fields, still using the same threats ; 
 adding with imprecations, had you not better give 
 us the £100 than be hanged ? After a while they 
 got her through the fields, and brought her to Gar- 
 lick-hill to the house of the identical Mrs. Bentley, 
 where with threats they got her to give a draft on 
 Mr. Williams to Bentley, payable in a short time ; 
 which, when they had obtained, they sent her about 
 her business. Williams came back punctual to his 
 promise, and was surprised to find her gone : ho 
 immediately went to the bench of justices to see if 
 she was there, and not finding her, went to Sir John 
 Fielding’s, and not succeeding, came back, when 
 
 n 
 
134 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 James soon after returned ; when she related to him 
 all that had passed. The discovery was now public. 
 
 On Monday, July 14, 1766, Mrs. Bentley came 
 to Mr. Williams with the draft, to know if he would 
 pay it, being due the Wednesday after. He told 
 her if slue came with it when due, he should know 
 better what to say ; in the mean time, he applied to 
 the bench of justices for advice, and Wednesday 
 being come, they sent a constable with others to be 
 in the house. Mrs. Bentley punctually came for 
 the payment of the draft, bringing with her the mu- 
 latto man, both of whom were taken into custody, 
 and carried to the bench of justices sitting at the 
 Angel in Whitechapel, where Mr. Williams attend- 
 ed, with James How, dressed in the proper habit of’ 
 her sex, now again under her real name of Mary 
 Bast. The alteration of her dress from that of a 
 man to that of a woman appeared so great, that 
 together with her awkward behaviour in her new 
 assumed habit, it caused great diversion. 
 
 In the course of their examination Mrs. Bentley 
 denied sending for the T100 ; the mu^itto declared 
 likewise, if she had not sent him for it he should 
 never have gone. In short, they so contradicted 
 each other, that they discovered the whole villainy 
 of their designs. In regard to the ten pounds which 
 Bentley had before obtained, she in her defence 
 urged that Mary East had sent it to her. After the 
 strongest proof of their extortion and assault, they 
 were denied any bail, and both committed to Clerk- 
 enwell Bridewell to be tried for the offence : the 
 other man made off, and was not afterwards heard 
 of. At the following session tliq mulatto, whose 
 name was William Barwick, was tried for defrauding 
 the female husband of money, and was convicted : 
 when he was sentenced to four years imprisonment, 
 and to stand four times in the pillory. 
 
ELIZABETH CANNING. 
 
 135 
 
 D uring the whole of their cohabiting together as 
 man and wife, which was thirty-four years, they 
 lived in good credit and esteem, having during this 
 time traded for many thousand pounds, and been to 
 a day punctual to their payments : they had also by 
 honest means saved up between £4000 and £5000 
 between them. It is remarkable that it has never 
 there been observed that they ever dressed a joint 
 of meat in their whole lives, nor ever had any meet- 
 ings or the like at their house. They never kept 
 either maid or boy ; but Mary East, the late James 
 How, always used to draw beer, serve, fetch in and 
 carry out pots herself, so peculiar were they in each 
 particular. 
 
 ELIZABETH CANNING. 
 
 I was in London, says Voltaire, in the year 1753, 
 when the adventures of Elizabeth Canning made so 
 much noise. JElizabeth had quitted the house of 
 her parents, and disappeared for a month ; when 
 she returned thin, emaciated, and her clothes in 
 rags — {t Good God ! in what condition are you re- 
 turned ! where have you been ? whence are you 
 come ? what has befallen you ?” a Alas ! my dear 
 aunt, as I passed through Moorfields, in order to 
 return home, two strong ruffians threw me down, 
 robbed me, and carried me off to a house ten miles 
 from London.” Her aunt and her neighbors wept 
 at this tale. u Oh, my dear child ! was it not to 
 the house of that infamous Mrs. Webb, that the ruf- 
 fians conveyed you ? for she lives about ten miles 
 from town.” a Yes, aunt, it was to Mrs. Webb’s.” 
 “ To a great house on the right ?” u Yes, aunt.” 
 The neighbors then described Mrs. Webb ; and the 
 
155 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 young Canning agreed, that she was exactly such a 
 woman as they described her. One of them told 
 Miss Canning, that people played all night in that 
 woman’s house ; that it was a cut-throat place, 
 where young men resorted to lose their money and 
 ruin themselves. “Indeed it is a cut-throat place,” 
 replied Elizabeth Canning. “ They do worse,” 
 said another neighbor ; “ those two ruffians, who 
 are cousins to Mrs. Webb, go on the highway, take 
 up all the pretty girls they meet, and oblige them to 
 live on bread and water until they consent to aban- 
 don themselves to the gamblers in the house.” 
 “ Good God ! I suppose they obliged you, my dear 
 niece, to live upon bread and water?” “Yes, 
 aunt.” She was asked, whether the ruffians had 
 not offered violence to her chastity, and whether 
 she had not been ruined ? She answered ; “ That 
 she had resisted them ; that they beat her to the 
 ground, and put her life in danger.” Then the 
 aunt and the neighbors began to cry out and weep. 
 
 They conducted the little girl to the house of one 
 Adamson, who had been long a friend of the family ; 
 he was a man of fortune, and of great consequence 
 in the parish. He mounted his horse, and took with 
 him some friends, as zealous as himself, to recon- 
 noitre the house of Mrs. Webb. On viewing the 
 house, they thought there could be no doubt of the 
 girl’s having been confined there 5 and on perceiv- 
 ing an outhouse where there was some hay, they 
 concluded that to have been the place of her con- 
 finement. The pity of the good man Adamson was 
 excited ; he described the place on his return, which 
 Elizabeth acknowledged she had been confined in. 
 He interested the whole neighborhood in her be- 
 half, where a subscription was set on foot, in favor 
 of a young woman so cruelly treated. 
 
 In proportion as Canning recovered her appear- 
 
ELIZABETH CANNING. 
 
 137 
 
 ance and beauty, the people grew warm in her 
 interest. Mr. Adamson presented a formal com- 
 plaint to the sheriff in behalf of injured' innocence. 
 Mrs. Webb, and all those who lived in her house, 
 while tranquil and unapprehensive in the country, 
 were arrested and thrown into a dungeon. " The 
 sheriff, in order to be the better informed of the 
 truth of this transaction, commenced his proceedings 
 by enticing amicably to him a young woman who 
 was a servant to Mrs. Webb ; and engaging her by 
 gentle words to say all that she knew. The servant, 
 who had never seen or heard of Miss Canning, an- 
 swered ingeniously at first, that she knew nothing 
 of the person he spoke' of. But when the sheriff 
 told her, she must answer in a court, and that she 
 would certainly be hanged if she did not confess, 
 she said every thing he wished her to say. In short, 
 a jury was assembled, and nine persons were con- 
 • dcmned to be hanged. 
 
 The time drew near in which these nine persons 
 were to be executed ; when the paper, called the 
 Session Paper , fell into the hands of a philosopher, 
 named Ramsay. He read the account of the trial, 
 and found the whole of it absurd. He was moved 
 with indignation ; and sat down to write a pamphlet, 
 in which he stated it as a principle, that it is the 
 first obligation of a juryman to be possessed of com- 
 mon sense. He showed, that Mrs. Webb, her two 
 cousins, and the rest of the family, must have been 
 different from the rest of mankind, if they obliged 
 young girls to fast on bread and water with a view 
 to prostitute them ; for, on the contrary, they should 
 have dieted and dressed them well, in order to ren- 
 der them agreeable ; because, in all cases, mer- 
 chants who have goods to dispose of, take care not 
 to injure or tear them. He showed, that Miss Can- 
 ning had never been at the house of Mrs. Webb, 
 12 * 
 
138 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 and that she had only repeated the foolish things 
 which her aunt had suggested to her, and that the 
 good Mr. Adamson had, by the excess of his zeal, 
 occasioned this extravagant prosecution : in short, 
 that in all probability, the lives of nine of his majes- 
 ty’s subjects would be sacrificed, because Miss 
 Canning was handsome and would tell falsehoods. 
 The servant, who had been induced in an amicable 
 manner, to say before the sheriff what was not true, 
 could not safely contradict herself before the court. 
 A person, who has given false testimony through 
 passion or fear, commonly adheres to what he has 
 said, and lies, from fear of passing for a liar. 
 
 It is in vain, said Mr. Ramsay, the law has ordain- 
 ed that two witnesses should be sufficient to prove 
 a capital crime, and to take away the life of a citi- 
 zen. If the Lord Chancellor and the Archbishop 
 of Canterbury should swear that they have seen me 
 assassinate my father and mother, and in half an 
 hour eat them all for my breakfast, the Chancellor 
 and the Archbishop should be put in Bedlam, rather 
 than I should be burnt upon their evidence. If on 
 the one hand a thing be impossible and absurd, and 
 on the other there be ten thousand witnesses and a 
 thousand reasoners, the impossibility of the thing 
 should determine it against the evidences and rea- 
 sonings. This little pamphlet opened the eyes of 
 the sheriff and the jury. They were obliged to re- 
 vise the proceedings. It was alleged, that Miss 
 Canning was a little impostor, who had retired to lie 
 in, while she pretended to have been in prison at 
 Mrs. Webb’s ; and all the city of London, which 
 had espoused her cause, was as much ashamed as it 
 had been when a wag proposed to jump into a quart 
 bottle, brought two thousand people to see the spec- 
 tacle, carried off their money, and left them the 
 bottle. 
 
JENNY DARNEY. 
 
 139 
 
 JENNY DARNEY". 
 
 • 
 
 An inoffensive individual of the name of Jenny 
 Darney is well known in the southern parts of the 
 county of Cumberland. It has been impossible to 
 ascertain anv thing of her family, friends, or where 
 she was born. The country people know her by 
 the appellation of Jenny Darney, from the manner, 
 I presume, in which she used to mend her clothes. 
 Her present garb is entirely of her own manufac- 
 ture. She collects the small parcels of wool which 
 lie about the fields in sheep-farms, spins it on a rock 
 and spindle of her own making ; and, as she cannot 
 find any other method of making the yarn into cloth, 
 she knits it on wooden needles, and by that means 
 procures a warm, comfortable dress. In the life- 
 time of the late Charles Lutwidge, Esq. of Holm 
 Rook, she took possession of an old cottage, or 
 rather cow-house, on his estate, in which she has 
 ever since been suffered to continue. Her intellect 
 seems at certain times greatly deranged, but her 
 actions are harmless, and her language inoffensive. 
 On that score she is caressed by all the villagers, 
 who supply her with eatables, &c. for money she 
 utterly refuses. She seems a person, in her lucid 
 intervals, of much shrewdness, and her understand- 
 ing is much above the common level. This has 
 also been improved by a tolerable education. Her 
 appearance has been much the same for these twenty 
 years, so that she must now be nearly ninety years 
 of age ; but of this, as well as her family and name, 
 she is always silent. She seems to have chosen out 
 the spot where she now lives, to pass the remainder 
 of her days unknown to her friends, and in a great 
 measure from a distaste of a wicked world, to “ pre- 
 pare herself,” as she often in her quiet hours says, 
 u for a better.” 
 
140 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 MR. HOWE, THE ABSENT HUSBAND. 
 
 \ 
 
 About the year 1706, I knew (says Dr. King) 
 one Mr. Howe, a sensible, well-natured man, pos- 
 sessed of an estate of <£700 or £800 per annum ; he 
 married a young lady of good family, in the West 
 of England ; her maiden name was Mallet, she was 
 agreeable in her person and manners, and proved a 
 very good wife. Seven or eight years after they 
 had been married, he rose one morning very early, 
 and told his wife he was obliged to go to the Tower 
 to transact some particular business : the same day 
 at noon, his wife received a note from him, in which 
 he informed her that he was under the necessity of 
 going to Holland, and should probably be absent 
 three weeks or a month. He was absent from her 
 seventeen years ,• during which time she never heard 
 from him or of him. The evening before he re- 
 turned, whilst she was at supper, and with some of 
 her friends and relations, particularly one Dr. Rose, 
 a physician, who had married her sister, a billet, 
 without any name subscribed, was delivered to her, 
 in which the writer requested the favor of her to 
 give him a meeting the next evening in the Bird- 
 cage Walk, in St. James’s Park. When she had 
 read the billet, she tossed it to Dr. Rose, and laugh- 
 ing, said, “ \ r ou see, brother, old as I am, I have a 
 gallant.” Rose, who perused the note with more 
 attention, declared it to be Mr. Howe’s hand writing : 
 this surprised all the company, and so much affected 
 Mrs. Howe, that she fainted away ; however, she 
 soon recovered, when it was agreed that Dr. Rose 
 and his wife, with the other gentlemen and ladies 
 who were then at supper, should attend Mrs. Howe 
 the next evening to the Birdcage Walk : they had 
 not been there more than five or six minutes, when 
 
 
MR. HOWE, THE ABSENT HUSBAND. 
 
 141 
 
 Mr. Howe came to them, and after saluting his 
 friends and embracing his wife, walked home with 
 her, and they lived together in great harmony from 
 that time to the day of his death. But the most 
 curious part of my tale remains to be related. When 
 Howe left his wife, they lived in a house in Jermyn- 
 street, near St. James’s church : he went no farther 
 than to a little street in Westminster, where he took 
 a room, for which he paid live o it six shillings a 
 week, and changing his name, and disguising him- 
 self by wearing a black wig (for he was a fair man) 
 he remained in this habitation during the whole time 
 ot his absence ! Pie had two children by his wife 
 when he departed from her, who were both living at 
 that time ; but they both died young in a few years 
 after. However, during their lives, the second or 
 third year after their father disappeared, Mrs. Howe 
 was obliged to apply for an Act of Parliament to 
 procure a proper settlement of her husband’s estate, 
 and a provision for herself out of it during his ab- 
 sence, as it was uncertain whether he was alive or 
 dead ; this act he suffered to be solicited and passed, 
 and enjoyed the pleasure of reading the progress 
 of it in the votes, in a little coffee-house, near his 
 lodging, which he frequented. Upon his quitting 
 his house and family in the manner I have men- 
 tioned, Mrs. Howe at first imagined, as sire could 
 not conceive any other cause for such an abrupt 
 elopement, that he had contracted a large debt un- 
 known to her, and by that means involved himself 
 in difficulties which he could not easily surmount ; 
 and for some days she lived in continual apprehen- 
 sions of demands from creditors, of seizures, execu-: 
 tions, &c. But nothing of this kind happened ; on 
 the contrary, he did not only leave his estate quite 
 free and unencumbered, but he paid the bills of 
 every tradesman with whom he had any dealings ; 
 
142 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 and upon examining his papers, in due time after he 
 was gone, proper receipts and discharges were found 
 from all persons, whether tradesmen or others, with 
 whom he had any manner of transactions or money 
 concerns. Mrs. Howe, after the death of her chil- 
 dren, thought proper to lessen her family of servants 
 and the expenses of her housekeeping ; and. there- 
 fore removed from her house in Jermyn-strcct to a 
 small house in Brewer-street, near Golden-square. 
 Just over against her lived one Salt, a corn-chandler. 
 About ten years after Howe’s abdication, he con- 
 trived to rhake an acquaintance with Salt, and was 
 at length in such a degree of intimacy with him, that 
 he usually dined with him once or twice a week. 
 From the room in which they ate, it was not difficult 
 to look into Mrs. Howe’s dining-room, where she 
 generally sat, and received her company ; and Salt, 
 who believed Howe to be a bachelor, frequently 
 recommended his own wife to him as a suitable 
 match. During the last seven years of this gentle- 
 man’s absence, he went every Sunday to St. James’s 
 church, and used to sit in Mr. Salt’s seat, where he 
 had a view of his wife, but could not easily be seen 
 by her. After he returned home, he would never 
 confess, even to his most intimate friends, what was 
 the real cause of such a singular conduct ; appar- 
 ently there was none ; but whatever it was, he was 
 certainly ashamed to own it. Dr. Rose has often 
 said to me, that he believed his brother Howe would 
 never* have returned to his wife, if the money which 
 he took with him, which was supposed to have been 
 £1000 or £2000, had not been all spent : and he 
 
 * “ And yet I have SQpn him, after his return, addressing his 
 wife in the language of a young bridegroom. And I have been 
 assured, by some of his most intimate friends, that he treated her, 
 during the rest of their lives, with the greatest kindness and 
 affection.” 
 
PRINCE HOHENLOHE. 
 
 143 
 
 must have been a good economist, and frugal in his 
 manner of living, otherwise his money would scarce- 
 ly have held out ; for I imagine he had his whole 
 fortune by him — I mean what he carried away with 
 him in money or bank-bills, and daily took out of 
 his bag, like the Spaniard in Gil Bias, what w T as 
 sufficient for his expenses. 
 
 PRINCE HOHENLOHE. 
 
 The Roman Catholic Church has ever boasted 
 of its miracles, and human credulity is still heavily 
 taxed by the artful representation, or mistaken zeal 
 of monks and bigots. We say mistaken zeal, for we 
 are far from accusing the Roman Catholic Clergy 
 of knowingly fabricating all the relations of pretend- 
 ed miracles •, though this is not unfrequently the 
 case. 
 
 The barefaced impostures of priests in former 
 times, had become so notorious, as to throw a gene- 
 ral discredit on all Catholic miracles, and hence 
 they were not very frequent. They have lately, 
 however, been revived in several instances, but in 
 none so strikingly as in Prince Alexander of Hohen- 
 lohe, whose extraordinary feats in curing diseases, 
 in all parts of the world, the newspapers are now 
 recording. 
 
 This Prince, whose elder brother is now serving 
 in the French army in Spain, is of one of the oldest 
 families in Germany. His ancestors were among 
 the first to embrace the reformed religion, but re- 
 turned to the Catholic Church in 1667. In 1744, 
 the houses of Hohenlohe were elevated to the rank 
 of Princes of the holy Roman empire by Charles 
 VII. They are divided into two reigning families, 
 
144 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 or houses, yiz. of Neuensteiu and of 'Waldenburg ; 
 to the latter of which the Rev. Prince Hohenlohe 
 belongs. He is one of the canons of the noble 
 Chapter of Olmutz, and a knight of Malta. 
 
 In June, 1821, Prince Hohenlohe visited Wurz- 
 burgh, where he preached frequently, and celebrated 
 high mass ; after which he commenced his miracles, 
 which Father Baur, his biographer, thus briefly 
 sums up : — 
 
 “ With perfect confidence he has restored persons 
 declared incurable ; he has made the blind see— the 
 deaf hear — the lame walk ; and paralytics he has 
 perfectly cured. The number of these already 
 amounts to thirlij-six persons, amongst whom is the 
 Princess Matilda of Schwartzenberg. Amongst oth- 
 ers who have been restored to sight, the mother of 
 Mr. Polzano, the man-milliner, deserves to be men- 
 tioned. She is the general subject of conversation 
 throughout the city. By firm confidence in God, 
 with God and in God, he performs these cures. 
 This is his secret , his magnetic power , and his sym- 
 pathy.” 
 
 Such miraculous doings naturally attracted a great 
 concourse of people from town and country, and the 
 house of the Prince was surrounded by thousands : 
 the cures, which on the 27th of June amounted to 
 thirty-six, had, on the following day, increased to 
 sixty ; but the cure on which the Prince’s historian 
 most dwells, is that of the Princess of Schwartzen- 
 berg, who had been lame from her eighth to her 
 seventeenth year ; 80,000 florins had been spent in 
 medical advice for her, and fourteen days before 
 the Prince saw her, her life was despaired of: — 
 
 c< It was only,” says Father Baur, ‘ c with the most 
 violent pain that she could lie in a horizontal -posi- 
 tion, and only by means of a machine, constructed 
 by Mr. Heine, could she be something freer from 
 
PRINCE HOHENLOHE. 
 
 145 
 
 pain in bed ; because it supported her and brought 
 her nearer to a perpendicular direction ; and in this 
 state the Prince of Hohenlohe found her, where, 
 prating with him and his disciple Martin Michel, 
 and with full confidence in God, at his command to 
 arise, she was instantly cured. She stepped out of 
 bed alone, threw the machine from her, was dressed, 
 and walked afterwards in the court-yard and in the 
 garden, performed her devotions the next morning 
 in the church, with praises and thanksgivings, vis- 
 ited the garden of the court and Julius’ Hospital, 
 and went on the 24th instant, in company with her 
 Serene Highness the Princess of Lichtenstein, born 
 Princess of Esterhazy ; his Serene Highness the 
 Duke of Aremberg, also her uncle, his Serene High- 
 ness the Prince of Baar, and others, to the sermon 
 of the Prince of Hohenlohe, in the Collegiate 
 Church of Haug, and continues to this hour per- 
 fectly well.” 
 
 “ The public will do well to reflect cn this,” says 
 Father Baur, u and the more so, as on the preced- 
 ing day, as well as on the 20th of June in the morn- 
 ing, the Princess could neither turn herself in bed 
 nor stand on either of her feet ! ! ! The Crown 
 Prince of Bavaria, who was deaf, was also restored 
 to his hearing, on which he exclaimed, full of joy, 
 c How happy I am that I can now hear the birds 
 sing, and the clock strike !’” Great gratifications 
 certainly, but we should have thought there might 
 have been higher pleasures derived from it. 
 
 When the Prince left W urzburgh for a short time 
 for Bamberg, he met a great number of invalids on 
 the roads ; “ he stopped, got out of his carriage, 
 and healed them.” At Bamberg “ he restored two 
 sisters to the use of their limbs, who had not left their 
 beds for ten years.” The Rev. Mr. Sollner, of 
 Hallstadt, “ in the presence of a number of person*, 
 .13 
 
/ 
 
 146 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 was cured of the gout as he sat in his carriage, and 
 immediately alighted and went through the town on 
 foot.” 
 
 On the return of the Prince to Wurzburgh, he 
 continued his healing powers : — 
 
 “ In the morning of Saturday, the 30th of June, 
 a chaise drove up to Staufenberg’s hotel. It was 
 immediately conjectured that it brought some poor 
 creature in need of help ; and actually, an old man, 
 by trade a butcher, was carried out of it in sheets 
 into the hotel ; for all his members were so crippled, 
 that he could not be touched with hands. The 
 crowd assembled in the place before the hotel, were 
 astonished to see a person so extremely afflicted, 
 and many said aloud, — ‘ If this man is cured, the 
 linger of God will be manifest.’ The whole multi- 
 tude were full of expectation for the event. After 
 some time a lady was heard in the hotel, calling out 
 of the window to those in the windows of the adjoin- 
 ing house — c Good God ! the man is cured ! he can 
 walk already !’ The crowd below were now more 
 eager with expectation : when another lady called 
 out to them — ‘ Clear the way before the door, the 
 man is coming out — let him have a free passage !’ 
 The man came out, and walked to his chaise ; but, 
 after driving a little way, he stopped the coachman, 
 and desired him to take him back to the gracious 
 Prince, as, through excessive joy, he had forgotten 
 to return him thanks.” 
 
 5 The miracles of the prince do not stop here, for 
 other remarkable cures follow : — 
 
 “ The sister of Mrs. Brioli, the grocer, who lay 
 under the physician’s care almost dead, was healed 
 on the spot, and now enjoys full health and vigor. 
 Likewise on a bookkeeper of hers, a native of Yol- 
 kach, whose speech was greatly affected by a dis- 
 order in his tongue, but who now speaks perfectly 
 well. 
 
 
fitlNCE HOHENLOHE. 
 
 14 ? 
 
 ' Ci The child of Mr. Gulemann, who was attended 
 by medical men, being entirely blind ; but restored 
 on the spot, and to this hour remains blessed with 
 perfect sight. 
 
 u A most remarkable case was the cure of the 
 wife of the forester Kiesling, and that of the clerk 
 of the courts, Mr. Kandler, who had almost given 
 up all hopes of relief from physicians, and was per- 
 fectly healed of a lingering disease. 
 
 u Moreover, the daughter of Mel, the King’s 
 cellarer, who was deaf ; she ran about the house, 
 crying out for joy, — 4 1 can hear perfectly well V 
 
 44 Previous to his departure on the 11th of July, 
 his Serene Highness worked the following cures, 
 among many others, which are certainly miraculous 
 in their kind : 
 
 44 A boy of four years old was brought from 
 Grossenlangheim, who, for three years and a half 
 had one of his eyes entirely covered by the eyelid, 
 so that no one could tell whether the eye existed at 
 all ; and his other eye was covered with a film. 
 This boy was so perfectly restored by the prayers 
 of the Prince, that both his eyes are now sound and 
 well, and the same afternoon he went up and down 
 all the steps of the Quanteischer House in this 
 place. 
 
 i 44 A wine-merchant came from Koningshofen, 
 whose hands and feet had been for four years so 
 much contracted, that his hands were fast clenched 
 like a fist, and he could scarcely use them at all. 
 This man was instantaneously restored, so that he 
 can stand upright on his feet and walk, and also 
 open and shut his hands, and enjoys the perfect use 
 of them. 
 
 u A man from Schwemelsbach, who had not been 
 able for eight years to raise himself once in his bed, 
 was brought in a carriage before the residence of 
 
148 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 the Rev. Prince, who was just about to begin a 
 journey. The Prince was in the greatest haste, 
 but still wished to relieve this afflicted man, and 
 accordingly opened- his window, and began to pray 
 from it, desiring the sick to pray at the same time. 
 After giving him his blessing, he called out to the 
 man to arise. This he could not do, and the prayer 
 was repeated, whereupon the sick man raised him- 
 self a little, and declared that he was quite free 
 from pain. The prayer was again repeated, and 
 then the man arose entirely by himself, got out of 
 the vehicle, went from thence, to the Collegiate 
 Church of Haug, and there returned thanks to God 
 for his deliverance.” 
 
 Such are a proof of the miracles related by Father 
 Baur, in his life of Prince Hohenlohe. To those 
 who are well read in the history of the Roman 
 Catholic religion, these absurdities or known impos- 
 tures will not excite much surprise. We do not 
 mean to deny that imagination may have considera- 
 ble influence on many diseases, but imagination will 
 not give eyes to the blind, ears to the deaf, or feet 
 to the lame. Besides, with regard to the cures said 
 to have been performed by the Prince, although we 
 are told they are all well attested, yet there is not a 
 single affidavit or attestation given. On the con- 
 trary, the chef-d’oeuvre of the Prince, the cure of the 
 Princess of Schwartzenberg, is partially contra- 
 dicted, at least, as to her debilitated state, by her 
 medical attendant. The fact appears to be, that 
 the Princess was so far recovered as to be able to 
 walk before the Prince of Hohenlohe saw her. Mr. 
 Heine, her surgeon, says, that u she was enabled to 
 perform the full functions of the lower extremities, 
 namely, the backward and forward steps in walking, 
 without any difficulty and that this was her state 
 the day before the Prince saw her, though, for fear 
 
PRINCE HOIIENLOHE. 
 
 149 
 
 of overstraining, it was not thought advisable to 
 encourage any desire to go alone. What, therefore, 
 was there remarkable that, when encouraged, she 
 should make the experiment of walking, and suc- 
 ceed. 
 
 It would far exceed the limits of our work to at- 
 tempt to chronicle all the miracles said to be per- 
 formed by the wonder-working Prince Hohenlohe ; 
 in fact, no journal could keep pace with him, since 
 to him time and distance are no obstacles ; for he 
 can work miracles by the post, as well as when 
 present — at least, so the Catholics assure us — nay, 
 even a Protestant physician bears testimony to one 
 of his cures — not, however, as a miracle, but as 
 the effect of imagination. This was the case of a 
 Miss Barbara O’Connor, a nun, in the convent of 
 New-hall, near Chelmsford ; who had been attacked 
 with a swelling in the thumb, which extended along 
 the arm to the elbow, defying the most skilful treat- 
 ment of the surgeons. At length Prince Hohenlohe 
 was applied to. He writes a letter, telling the nun 
 that at eight o’clock on the 3d of May, 1822, he will 
 offer up prayers for her recovery, and bidding her 
 pray at the same time. “ On the 2d of May,” says 
 Dr. Badeley, “ I was requested to look at Miss 
 O’Connor’s hand and arm, which I found as much 
 swollen and as bad as I had ever seen them. The 
 fingers looked ready to burst, and the wrist was 
 fifteen inches in circumference.” 
 
 The next day, Miss O’Connor went through the 
 religious process prescribed by Prince Hohenlohe. 
 “Mass being nearly ended,” says Dr. Badeley, 
 “ Miss O’Connor not finding the immediate' relief 
 she expected, exclaimed, c Thy will be done, oh \ 
 Lord ! thou hast not thought me worthy of this 
 cure.’ Almost immediately after, she felt an extra- 
 ordinary sensation through the whole arm to the end 
 13* 
 
150 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 of her fingers. The pain instantly left her, and the 
 swelling gradually subsided ; but it was some weeks 
 before the hand resumed its natural size and shape.” 
 
 Our next, and the last miracle we shall mention, 
 rests entirely on the authority of a Catholic priest, 
 and the world knows that things of this sort lose 
 nothing in such hands. It is a letter from the Rev. 
 Mr. O’Connor to Dr. Doyle, and we subjoin it 
 without comment. 
 
 Maryborough , June , 1823. 
 
 MY LORD, 
 
 In compliance with your request, I send you a 
 statement of the facts relative to Miss Lalor, which 
 I have heard from others, and witnessed myself. 
 
 I am now in the house where she was first de- 
 prived of her speech. She is at present in the 
 eighteenth year of her age ; and as she is connected 
 with most of the respectable Catholic families in this 
 country, and has had frequent intercourse with 
 them, her privation of speech during six years and 
 five months, is established beyond contradiction. 
 Her hearing and understanding remained unimpair- 
 ed, and she carried a tablet and pencil to write what 
 she could not communicate by signs. 
 
 Medical aid was tried by Dr. Ferris of Athy, and 
 Surgeon Smith of Mountrath, but without effect. 
 The latter gentleman (as a similar case never oc- 
 curred in the course of his practice) resolved to 
 have it submitted to the most eminent physicians in 
 Dublin, eight of whom were consulted by him, and 
 the result was, that no hopes could be entertained 
 of her recovery. This decision was imparted by 
 Dr. Smith to her father, apart from Mrs. and Miss 
 Lalor ; all which circumstances the doctor recol- 
 lected on the 14th instant, when he saw Miss Lalor, 
 heard her speak, and declared the cure to be mira- 
 culous; 
 
PRINCE HOHENLOIIE. 
 
 151 
 
 You, my Lord, are already aware, that according 
 to your directions, written to me on the 1st of June, 
 I waited on Mr. Lalor, and communicated to him 
 and to his family, all that you desired. They ob- 
 served it with every exactness ; and on the morning 
 of the 10th instant, having heard Miss Lalor ’s con- 
 fession by signs, and disposed her for receiving the 
 holy communion, I read to her again from your 
 lordship’s letter, the directions of the Prince, name- 
 ly, that she would excite within her a sincere re- 
 pentance, a firm resolution of obeying God’s com- 
 mands, a lively faith, and unbounded confidence in 
 his mercy, an entire conformity to his holy will, and 
 a disinterested love of him. 
 
 I had previously requested the. clergy of this dis- 
 trict to offer up for Miss Lalor the holy sacrifice of 
 the mass, at twelve minutes before eight o’clock in 
 the morning of the 10th, keeping the matter a secret 
 from most others, as you had recommended ; how- 
 ever, as it transpired somewhat, a considerable 
 number collected in the chapel, when my two coad- 
 jutors, with myself, began mass at the hour appoint- 
 ed. I offered the holy sacrifice in the name of the 
 church. I besought the Lord to overlook my own 
 unworthiness, and regard only Jesus Christ, the 
 Great High Priest and Victim, who offers himself 
 in the mass to his Eternal Father, for the living and 
 the dead. I implored the Mother of God, of all the 
 Angels and Saints, and particularly of St. John 
 JNepomuscene ; I administered the sacrament to the 
 young lady, at the usual time, when she heard, as 
 it were, a voice distinctly saying to her, u Mai'y, you 
 are well ” — when she exclaimed, “ O Lord, am I /” 
 and, overwhelmed with devotion, fell prostrate on 
 her face. She continued in this posture for a con- 
 siderable time, whilst I hastened to conclude the 
 mass ; but was interrupted in my thanksgiving im- 
 
152 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 mediately after by the mother of the child, pressing 
 her to speak. 
 
 When at length she was satisfied in pouring out 
 her soul to the Lord, she took her mother by the 
 hand, and said to her, “ dear mother,” upon which 
 Mrs. Lalor called the clerk, and sent for me, as I 
 had retired to avoid the interruption, and on coming 
 to where the young lady was, I found her speaking 
 in an agreeable, clear, and distinct voice, such as 
 neither she nor her mother could recognise as her 
 own. 
 
 As she returned home in the afternoon, the doors 
 and windows in the street through which she passed 
 were crowded with persons, gazing with wonder 
 at this monument of the power and goodness of 
 Almighty God. 
 
 Thus, my lord, in obedience to your commands, 
 I have given you a simple statement of facts, with- 
 out adding to, or distorting what I have seen and 
 heard, the truth of which, their very notoriety places 
 beyond all doubt ; and which numberless witnesses, 
 as well as myself, could attest by the most solemn 
 appeal to heaven. I cannot forbear remarking to 
 your lordship, how our Lord confirms now the doc- 
 trine of his church, and his own presence upon our 
 altars, by the same miracles to which he referred 
 the disciples of John, saying, “ Go tell John the 
 dumb speak,” &.c. as a proof that he was the Son 
 of God who came to save the world. 
 
 I remain your lordship’s dutiful and affectionate 
 servant in Christ, 
 
 N. O’Connor. 
 
 To the Right Rev. Dr. Doyle , 
 
 Old Derrig, Carlow. 
 
CHEVALIER d’eON. 
 
 153 
 
 CHEVALIER D’EON. 
 
 The Chevalier d’Eon, who was well known in 
 London, was employed on diplomatic missions, and 
 figured in some affairs of honor, passed many years 
 of his life as a female. The Chevalier was born at 
 Tounerre in Burgundy, in 1728, and when of a 
 proper age, was, through the interest of the Prince 
 of Conti, presented with a cornetcy of dragoons. 
 He was afterwards employed as Secretary of Lega- 
 tion, in important embassies to Russia and England ; 
 and served as aide-de-camp to Marshal Broglio on 
 the Rhine : he acquitted himself so well on these 
 several occasions, as to be invested with the order 
 of St. Louis, by the French King. 
 
 It was about the year 1771, that doubts first pub- 
 licly arose in England as to the sex of the Chevalier 
 d’Eon, although it had previously been the subject 
 of conversation at St. Petersburgh. The English, 
 who wish to decide every disputed point by a wager, 
 made the Chevalier’s sex a sporting subject. Corf- 
 siderable bets were laid, and gambling policies of 
 insurance to a large amount were effected on his 
 sex. In 1777, an action was brought on one of 
 these before Lord Mansfield, for the recovery of 
 £700. The plaintiff was a surgeon, of the name 
 of Hayes, and the defendant, Jaques, a broker, who 
 received premiums of fifteen guineas, for every one 
 of which he engaged to return £100, whenever it 
 should be proved that the Chevalier was a woman. 
 The plaintiff brought two French witnesses, who 
 swore that the Chevalier was a female. Lord Mans- 
 field reprobated the transaction, but held the wager 
 fair ; in consequence of which, a verdict was given 
 for the plaintiff. The matter was afterwards solemn- 
 ly pleaded before his Lordship, when the defendant 
 
154 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 pleading the act of parliament, which rendered 
 legally null all gambling debts above ten pounds, 
 the insurers in this shameful transaction were de- 
 prived of their expected gains. 
 
 The Chevalier was now regarded as a woman, 
 and accused of being an accomplice in these gam- 
 bling transactions, and a sharer of the plunder, he 
 was compelled to leave England. 
 
 He however previously published the following 
 letter in the newspapers : — 
 
 <c By an article of advice (or caution) inserted in 
 the Morning Post of the 13th and 14th November, 
 1775, Nos. 951 and 952, I had most earnestly de- 
 sired the public of England, who have always testi- 
 fied their benevolence towards me, not to renew any 
 policy on my sex. I declared that 1 would not 
 manifest it juridically, while any policies were made, 
 and till the old ones were annulled : but, if that was 
 impossible, I should be obliged to retire from this 
 country, that I esteemed as next to my native one. 
 
 “ The avidity that my enemies have proved for 
 money, the auri sacri fames that possess them, has 
 unhappily prevailed. They have not only renewed 
 the old policies, but they have also obtained, on 
 Tuesday, the first of July last, a judgment at the 
 tribunal of the King’s Bench to decide my sex. 
 
 u In consequence, I keep, with regret, my word 
 with the public : I leave, with pain, my dear Eng- 
 land, and where I believed I had found tranquillity 
 and liberty, to retire to my native country, to be 
 near to an august master, whose protection and 
 goodness will prove a greater assurance of tranquil- 
 lity than all the Magna Chartas of this island. 
 
 “ If the parties, interested and losing in those 
 policies, would take my advice, I would counsel 
 them not to pay any thing yet ; because the judg- 
 ment of the King’s Bench, where they have decided 
 
CHEVALIER d’eON. 
 
 155 
 
 the question of my sex, was given without my being 
 privy to it, and against my consent ; because [ will 
 oppose myself to that judgment when the tribunal 
 of the King’s Bench shall have resumed their sit- 
 tings, and that the King, my master, will permit me 
 to return to England. It will then' be the proper 
 time and place to offer all my reasons against the 
 three witnesses who gave evidence on my sex. 
 
 “ I had rather perish than be triumphant from the 
 weakness of the sex imputed to me. I have never 
 made use of aught but my quality of Captain of 
 dragoons to combat my enemies, when they have 
 had the heart. How sad for me to have had to do, 
 since my misfortunes in England, with only a set 
 of avaricious wretches and poltroons ? My sex was 
 never inquired into when I was sent to fight and 
 negotiate with the enemies of my country. I am 
 always unus et idem. 
 
 u Being unwilling to abuse the public patience, 
 though on the eve of my departure, and that it will 
 very likely be for the last time, I here declare au- 
 thehtically, that, if any one, whether in France or 
 in England, can convict me, in any court of justice* 
 of being interested for a single shilling in any one 
 or more policies, I will distribute all I am worth in 
 the world to such hospital or charity that the said 
 tribunal shall indicate. u Le Chev. D’EON.” 
 
 London, 10th Aug. 1777, 
 
 Brewer-street, Golden-square. 
 
 On his return to France, we find him confirming 
 the rumours against him by assuming the female 
 dress. In excuse for this, it was said that this was 
 not a matter of choice, but insisted on by the French 
 court. The female garb once assumed was never 
 relinquished. 
 
 In 1785 the Chevalier returned to England, living 
 
156 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 on his pension, until deprived of it by the French 
 Revolution. In 1795, he issued an advertisement, 
 in which the Chevalier d’Eon states, “ That at the 
 age of sixty-eight, she embraces the resource of her 
 skill, and long experience in the science of arms, to 
 cut her bread with her sword, and instead of idly 
 looking up for support from professed friends, she 
 relies on the liberality of Britons at large, to protect 
 an unfortunate woman of quality from the ‘ stings 
 and arrows of outrageous fortune’ in a foreign land, 
 and in the vale of years.” 
 
 The appeal was not made in vain, the Chevalier, 
 who was well skilled in fencing, opened an Academy, 
 and “cut her bread with her sword,” until the year 
 1810, when the Chevalier died ; and her friends 
 were for the first time enabled with full confidence 
 to say to all the world, “this was a man.” 
 
 JOHN MACKAY, THE FATALIST. 
 
 ♦ 
 
 The subject of the following melancholy tale has 
 long ceased to exist, and there is not in the place 
 of his nativity a being who bears his name. The 
 recital will, therefore, wound the feelings of no one, 
 nor will it disturb the ashes of the dead, to give to 
 the world the story of his madness, rather than his 
 crime. 
 
 The name of John Mackay appears on the crimi- 
 nal records of the town of Belfast, in the north of 
 Ireland. He was the murderer of his own child. 
 It is unnecessary to dwell on the character of this 
 unhappy man ; suffice it that, from early education, 
 and deeply-rooted habits, he was a fatalist. An enthu- 
 siastic turn of mind had been warped into a super- 
 stitious dread ; and the fabric that might have been 
 
JOHN MACKAY, THE FATALIST. 157 
 
 great and beautiful, became a ruin that betokened 
 only death and gloom. Yet in his breast the Creator 
 had infused much of the milk of human kindrtess, 
 and his disposition peculiarly fitted him to be at 
 peace with all men. The poison had lain'dormant 
 in his bosom, but it rankled there. Domestic sor- 
 rows contributed to strengthen his gloomy creed ; 
 and its effects were darker as it took a deeper root. 
 Life soon lost all its pleasures for him ; his usual 
 employments were neglected ; his dress and appear- 
 ance altered ; his once animated countenance bore 
 the traces of shame or guilt ; and a sort of suspicious 
 eagerness was in every look and action. 
 
 He had an only child ; one of the loveliest infants 
 that ever blessed a father’s heart. It was the melan- 
 choly legacy of the woman he had loved ; and never 
 did a parent doat with more affection on an earthly 
 hope. This little infant, all purity and innocence, 
 was destined to be the victim of his madness. One 
 morning his friend entered his apartment, and what 
 was his horror at beholding the child stretched on the 
 floor, and the father standing over it, his hands reek- 
 ing with the blood of his babe. u God of heaven !” 
 exclaimed his friend, u what is here ?” JVlackay 
 approached, and calmly welcomed him, bidding him 
 behold what he had done. His friend beat his bosom, 
 and sunk on a chair, covering his face with his 
 hands. u Why do you grieve ?” asked the maniac ; 
 “ why are you unhappy ? I was the father of that 
 breathless corpse, and I do not weep ; I am even 
 joyful when I gaze on it. Listen, my friend, listen ; 
 I knew I was predestined to murder, and who was 
 so fit to be my victim as that little innocent, to whom 
 I gave life, and from whom I have taken it ? He 
 had no crime to answer for ; besides, how could I 
 leave him in a cold world, which would mock him 
 with my name ?” Even before the commission of 
 14 
 
158 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 the crime, he had sent to a magistrate, whose officers 
 shortly entered, and apprehended him. He coolly 
 suil'endered hpnself, and betrayed no emotion ; but 
 he took from his bosom a miniature of his wife, 
 dipped in the blood of his babe, and, without a sigh 
 or a tear, departed. It was this circumstance that 
 made many loath him, and created against him a 
 sentiment of general abhorrence ; but when he after- 
 wards, in prison, declared to his friend the storm of 
 passions to which that horrid calm succeeded — that 
 he had torn his hair until the blood -trickled down 
 his forehead, while his brain seemed bursting his 
 scull ; his friend was satisfied, and still loved him- 
 In the prison he was with him : though all others 
 deserted him, he pitied and wept. Still ,even to the 
 last, he believed he had but fulfilled his duty in the 
 death of his child ; and often when he described the 
 scene, and told how the infant smiled on its father 
 at the moment he was prepared to kill it, lisping his 
 name as the weapon was at its throat, he would start 
 with horror at his own tale, and curse the destiny 
 which had decreed it, but always spoke of it as a 
 necessary deed. The time appointed for his trial 
 approached ; he contemplated it without dread, and 
 talked of the fate that awaited him without a shud- 
 der. • But his friend had exerted himself to procure 
 such testimony of the state of his mind, previous to 
 his committing, the dreadful act, as to leave little 
 dread of the result ; yet he feared to awaken hopes 
 in the unhappy prisoner which might be destroyed, 
 and never mentioned it to him. 
 
 The morning of his trial arrived ; he was brought 
 to the bar ; his hollow eyes glared unconsciously on 
 his judge, and he gave his plea, as if the words 
 “not guilty” came from a being without life. But 
 his recollection seemed for a moment to return ; he 
 opened his lips and gasped faintly, as if he wished 
 
HELEN OLIVER, THE RUSTIC d’eON. 159 
 
 to recall them. The trial commenced, and he lis- 
 tened with the same apathy ; but once betraying 
 feeling, when he smiled on his friend beside him^ 
 The evidence had been heard ; the jury had returned 
 to their box, and were about to record a verdict of 
 insanity, when a groan from the prisoner created a 
 momentary pause, and he dropped lifeless in the 
 dock. He had for some minutes shadowed his 
 countenance with his hand, and no one but his 
 friend perceived its dreadful alteration. He attrib- 
 uted it to the awful suspense of the moment, the 
 agony between hope and despair. Its cause was a 
 more awful one ; — he had procured poison, had taken 
 it, and with an almost superhuman strength, had 
 struggled with its effects until he fell dead before 
 the court. He was buried in the churchyard of his 
 native village, where a mound of earth marked his 
 - grave, but there was neither stone nor inscription to 
 preserve the name of one so wretched. 
 
 HELEN OLIVER, THE RUSTIC D’EON. 
 
 In the spring of 1822 , a female was discovered to 
 have been working for some time as a plasterer, in 
 a man’s dress. The following detailed account of 
 this eccentric character, is given in the Glasgow 
 Chronicle : — 
 
 She belonged originally to Saltcoats, is about 
 twenty-seven years of age, and for better than four 
 years she has, of her own free choice, worn the 
 attire, and discharged -the laborious duties, of one 
 of the male sex. Her real name is Helen Oliver ; 
 but she has assumed the name of her brother John. 
 About six years ago, while she was a maid servant 
 in a farm house in West Kilbride, a particular inti- 
 
160 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 macy took place between her and a person in a 
 neighboring house, who officiated as ploughman. 
 Being frequently seen walking together in quiet and 
 sequestered places, they were regarded as lovers ; 
 ultimately, however, this u ploughman ” turned out 
 to be also a female ; and it is believed by Helen’s 
 relatives and acquaintances, that it was the argu- 
 ments of this personage which induced her to aban- 
 don the female dress and duties. Upon Sunday, 
 the 4th of January, 1818, while in her parent’s 
 house at Saltcoats, she requested her mother to give 
 her her u wee cutty pipe,” and she would give her 
 two new ones in exchange. To this unusual de- 
 mand the mother, after some questions, assented ; 
 and Helen immediately afterwards began to write a 
 letter, which, in answer to an inquiry from her 
 parent, she said was to inform the people in Gree- 
 nock, to whom she was hired as a servant, that she 
 would not be with them for some time, for several 
 reasons she then alleged. Early on the following 
 morning, Helen helped herself to a complete suit of 
 her brother’s clothes and disappeared, without giv- 
 ing the least intimation of her future prospects, or 
 where she intended to fix her residence. Dressed 
 in her new attire, she reached the house of a cousin 
 in Glasgow on the same day. Her relative was not 
 sufficiently intimate with the person of the fair im- 
 postor to detect the fraud. Never doubting in the 
 least that she was u the real John Oliver,” among 
 other inquiries for absent relatives u sister Helen” 
 was not' forgotten. A plasterer stopt at the time in 
 her cousin’s house, and she resolved to learn that 
 business. Accordingly she Went for trial to a per- 
 son in the Calton ; but having fallen out with her 
 master, she left the town. She then went to Pais- 
 ley, where she wrought for about three months, and 
 she was next employed for about half a year in 
 
HELEN OLIVER, THE RUSTIC d’eON. 161 
 
 Johnstone. There, either for amusement, or to 
 prevent suspicion, and ensure concealment, she 
 courted a young woman, and absolutely carried the 
 joke so far as to induce the girl to leave her ser- 
 vice to be married. Travelling one night between 
 Johnstone and Paisley,' she was accosted by a lad 
 from Saltcoats, who was intimate with her person, 
 parents, and history ; and in consequence she re- 
 moved to Kilmarnock, where she remained six 
 months. Besides the places already mentioned, she 
 has been in Lanark and Edinburgh, working always 
 at plastering, except a short time she was employed 
 by a Glasgow flesher, about the Bell-street Mar- 
 ket. — A variety of circumstances have frequently 
 impelled this rustic D’Eon to change, not only her 
 master and house of residence, but also the town in 
 which she was comfortably employed, particularly 
 as she was often, or rather almost always, obliged 
 to board and share her lodgings with some neighbor 
 workman ; and though for obvious reasons she sel- 
 dom detailed more of her previous history than men- 
 tioned the towns she had visited and the masters she 
 had served, yet some sagacious females have been 
 known to declare that u Johnnie must have been a 
 sodger or a sailor,” because u when he likes him- 
 self he can brawly clout his breeks, darn his stock- 
 ings, mak’ his ain meat, and wash his ain daise.’* 
 At the beginning of February last, Helen applied 
 for employment to a master plasterer in Hutcheson- 
 town. She said she was seventeen years of age, 
 and stated that she and a sister were left orphans 
 at an early age ; urged her forlorn condition, and 
 that having already had some practice, she was very 
 anxious to be bound an apprentice, that she might 
 obtain an ample knowledge of the business. Event- 
 ually she was employed, and though she had the 
 appearance of a little man, she was in reality a tall 
 •/ 14 * 
 
162 PORTRAITS OP CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 woman, being about five feet four inches high. By 
 no means shy of a lift, times without number she has 
 carried the heavy hod full of lime for the Irish 
 laborer in attendance. Stea'dy, diligent, and quiet, 
 she gave her master every satisfaction, and he, con- 
 sidering her rather a delicate boy, feelingly kept 
 her at light ornamental work, and paid her seven 
 shillings a week. Some time since a workman was 
 employed by the same master, to whom Helen was 
 intimately known. The master having learned the 
 facts of the case, placed her apart at work from the 
 men, and took a favorable opportunity to speak with 
 her. She. indignantly denied her metamorphosis, 
 offered to produce letters from her sister, declared 
 that she was a freemason, and besides had been a 
 flesher, a drummer in the Greenock volunteers, and 
 made a number of statements with a view to escape 
 detection. One day, an Irishman, with characteris- 
 tic confidence, sprang upon the heroine, hugged her 
 like a brother bruin, and cried in his genuine Doric, 
 “ Johnny, they tell me you’re a woman, and dang 
 it, I mane to know, for I love a pruty girl.” The 
 agile female extricated herself in an instant, and 
 with a powerful kick drove him from her ; at the 
 same time exclaiming, with an oath, she would soon 
 convince him she was not a woman. Ultimately, 
 however, the truth was wrung from her, and she has 
 consequently left the town. She writes a good 
 hand, and previous to her departure, she addressed 
 a card to her master, in which she bade him fare- 
 well, and requested him not to make much talk 
 about Helen Oliver. 
 
■PRINCESS CARABOO. 
 
 163 
 
 
 PRINCESS CARABOO. 
 
 Some few years ago, a singular female impostor 
 appeared, and attracted great attention at Bath and 
 Bristol. She was supposed to be some Eastern 
 Princess, who had either been wrecked on our coast 
 or put on shore, but as she did not speak any lan- 
 guage that was known here, her history was not 
 easy to come at. Dr. Wilkinson, of Bath, very 
 humanely interested himself in her behalf. As she 
 could write, pen, ink, and paper were furnished her, 
 and she wrote a letter which was sent to one or both 
 of the Universities to decipher, but without effect. 
 At length it was discovered that Miss Caraboo was 
 a Devonshire girl, who had in her life u played 
 many parts.” 
 
 The following account of her early life, and the 
 ballad, will we are assured be acceptable to our 
 readers : — 
 
 This girl was born at Witheridge, in Devonshire, 
 in the year 1792. From a very early age, she was 
 accustomed to roaming about. Her mother taught 
 her to spin wool, and obliged her to work as much 
 as she could, and in the season she was employed 
 in weeding in the corn fields ; but Mary evinced 
 strong inclination to follow the occupations and 
 amusements of a boy. When fatigued, she would 
 go into the water. Her mother being uneasy at 
 her way of life, procured her a place of service at 
 Exeter ; but she soon left it, and commenced in 
 earnest the life of a wandering mendicant. Some- 
 times she met with encouragement, and sometimes 
 with rebuffs ; but she soon acquired a habit of tear- 
 ing her clothes to tatters, and to appear as miserable 
 as possible. In a word, she became a proficient in 
 
 i 
 
164 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 all the artifices, and was exposed to all the vicissi- 
 tudes of the trade she had chosen. 
 
 From Exeter she wandered to Taunton, sleeping 
 under hayricks and in barns, always exciting com- 
 passion rather than importuning for alms. In this 
 way Mary’s stars guided her to Bristol a few years 
 ago. When she had expended all the money she 
 had collected on the road, she applied to the Stran- 
 gers ’ Friend Society ; but an inquiry having been set 
 on foot as to her character and history, she deemed 
 it prudent to decamp, and set off for London. 
 
 On the road she was taken ill, and the future 
 Princess of Javasu, was conveyed in a humble wag- 
 gon to St. Giles’s hospital, where she was confined 
 a considerable time with a frenzy fever. Her youth 
 and engaging manners induced the chaplain of the 
 institution to commiserate her forlorn situation, and 
 he humanely procured her a situation, as servant in 
 a family, with whom she remained three years ; but 
 her mistress being very strict, and refusing to allow 
 her as much liberty as she wished, Mary packed up 
 her little wardrobe, and bade her mistress farewell. 
 
 She now assumed the male attire, and procured 
 a place as footman ; and in this disguise she actually 
 lived in her native place, close to her father’s house, 
 without exciting the least suspicion, having acquired 
 the art of altering her features so completely that no 
 one knew her. 
 
 After residing at Witheridge some time, she re- 
 moved to a neighboring village ; but being sent with 
 a message during the deep snow about three years 
 before, she was overwhelmed, and lay buried all 
 night. In the morning she was benumbed and 
 insensible. The removal of her wet clothes discov- 
 ered her sex, and she was obliged to leave the 
 place, and set out in pursuit of new adventures. 
 
 This young woman is the same person who, $ 
 
CARABOO A NEW BALLAD. 
 
 165 
 
 
 few years previous, passed with some respectable 
 * families in Ayrshire, in the west of Scotland, under 
 the name of Mrs. Mackrinkan. 
 
 CARABOO— A NEW BALLAD. 
 
 Respectfully inscribed to Dr. W n 7 of Bath. 
 
 O Bristol, ’mongst numerous evils, 
 
 Thou hast always been prone to a hoax , 
 
 Witness Lukin , from whom went seven devils, 
 
 The Haystack , and Chatterton's jokes ; 
 
 But, guided by fashion and science, 
 
 What could tradesmen and simple folks do ? 
 
 Can we wonder they plac’d such reliance * 
 
 ’ On the tale of the sweet Caraboo ! 
 
 To have seen her — in that there was danger — 
 
 The Doctor’s account must content us ; 
 
 ’Tis well while we burn’d for the stranger, 
 
 That her shy and coy mien would prevent us ; 
 
 But her sufferings we prize at a high rate, 
 
 When England first meeting her view, 
 
 She swam many leagues from a pirate, 
 
 Who threatened the chaste Caraboo. 
 
 Did she leave her fine garments behind her, 
 
 When she plung’d in the sea in a huff? 
 
 Or did those who first happen’d to find her, 
 
 Meet the beautiful creature in buff ! 
 
 She breasted thy waves, Bristol channel, 
 
 Sans petticoat, stocking, or shoe, 
 
 ’Till landed, a Fay brought her flannel, 
 
 ’Stead of fig leaves, for poor Caraboo. 
 
 By the same more than mortal director, 
 
 A u couch , in a cottage ” was shewn her ; 
 
 In she popp’d, and there met a protector — - 
 She couldn't ask leave of the owner ! 
 
 ■ 
 
166 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 Such eyes, nose and chin, and complexion, 
 Apelles of old never drew ; 
 
 Venus’ self had not won his affection, 
 
 Had he seen thy u sweet smile” Caraboo 
 
 But oh ! every passionate lover 
 
 Thanks his stars ’tis not ofte?i he can die. 
 
 When he finds the fair pilgrim discover 
 Such aversion to men and to brandy. 
 
 By signs were her wishes unravell’d, 
 
 Or by words not unlike the Hindoo ; 
 
 No interpreters ever had travell’d 
 
 To the land which produced Caraboo. 
 
 Then she wrote such a delicate hand, 
 
 In style not unlike European — 
 
 But the characters none understand, 
 
 Nor the wisest of linguists agree on ; 
 
 Blant Oxford knew nothing about it — 
 Learned Raffles was posed with it too — ■ 
 
 The Doctor alone didn’t doubt it, 
 
 That thou wrot’st heathen Greek, Caraboo. 
 
 « 
 
 Once a week she climb’d up to the attic, 
 
 (, Mlah Tallah said this must be done) 
 
 There worshipp’d with fervour ecstatic, 
 
 The rise and the fall of the sun : 
 
 Of a gold chain she seem’d to declare, 
 Round the neck of one Jessee Mandue , 
 
 Of the Isle Javasu the Lord Mayor, 
 
 And the father of dear Caraboo. 
 
 She fences with “ dagger and sword”-— 
 
 As to trinkets she has but a few on ; 
 
 Though she carries a magical “ chord, 
 
 “ Not unlike the Chinese suon-puon 
 
 / 
 
CARABOO A NEW BALLAD. 
 
 167 
 
 None can harbor the slightest suspicion 
 But apathy’s niggardly crew ; 
 
 By the India House soon a provision 
 Will be made for the lorn Caraboo. 
 
 v 
 
 As the food of her country was fish, 
 
 With them she was fed without grudging ; 
 
 Every day brought her favorite dish, 
 
 And she fed a good while upon gudgeon ; 
 
 A scar on her back, after stripping, 
 
 (Haply done by an Indian tattoo ) 
 
 Was seen — who shall say ’twas a whipping 
 Thus flayed thy nice skin, Caraboo ? 
 
 One morning when gorged to the full, 
 
 She stole from her cage like a squirrel, 
 
 Glurndalclitch ne’er griev’d for her gull — 
 
 Like the gull of all gulls, Mrs. W — rr — 11. 
 
 u Hue and cry — search the whole of the nation ; 
 
 “ She’s stol’n by some Macratoo ! 
 
 u I’ve lost my outlandish Circassian — 
 u O ! where , and O ! where’s Caraboo ?” 
 
 To Bath, unassisted and single, 
 
 Having guess’d the right way, she had hied her ; 
 
 The scar on her back ’gan to tingle, 
 
 As the tail of a cart pass’d beside her ; 
 
 In this, with the English tongue gifted, 
 
 Her journey she begged to pursue ; 
 
 In the cart she was instantly lifted — 
 
 But the man never touched Caraboo. 
 
 The Doctor has giv’n us the sequel — 
 
 At Bath how she ask’d for her tea ; 
 
 Her story can scarce find an equal 
 If she really did figure a tree ; 
 
168 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS, 
 
 Here the lady of Knowle overtook her — 
 
 What a scene it presented to view ! 
 
 How she griev’d that she ever forsook her ! 
 
 How repentant was poor Caraboo ! 
 
 “ Truth will out,” says the saw, c< in the end” — 
 So she told them the whole imposition ; 
 
 How she dup’d u her benevolent friend,” 
 Bamlmozling the learn’d Physician, 
 
 The Doctor now says, “ D — 1 take her ! 
 
 “ The journal is none of it true — 
 
 “ Caraboo is become Mary Baker ! 
 
 “And I shall be dubb’d Caraboo.” 
 
 THE OVERJOYED BARBER. 
 
 The following instance of mischievous imposition 
 may be depended on as a fact, having occurred a 
 few years ago. On the drawing of one of the large 
 prizes, some person who was in the hall, and knew 
 the disposition of a poor barber, who belonged to a 
 lottery club at Limehouse, the numbers of their 
 tickets, &c. immediately set off to make a false re- 
 port of their good fortune, which was performed 
 with so much plausibility, that the breaking of all 
 the things in the barber’s shop (before determined 
 on, in case of good luck) was directly put in prac- 
 tice ; and, as the populace were invited to assist in 
 this rude demonstration of joy, a fire was made be- 
 fore the door, where wig-blocks, band-boxes, &c. 
 &.c. were actually burning, before the fraud was dis- 
 covered. A public-house would have been opened, 
 if the landlord had not been rather incredulous. 
 The author of this sport took care to withdraw be- 
 fore its conclusion. 
 
THOMAS PETTj THE MISER. 
 
 169 
 
 THOMAS PETT, THE MISER. 
 
 Thomas Pett, who died In Clifford’s Passage, 
 on the 2d of June, 1803, was a native of Warwick- 
 shire. At the age of ten years he came to London 
 with a solitary shilling in his pocket. As he had 
 neither friends nor relations iA the capital, he was 
 indebted to the humanity of an old woman, that sold 
 pies, for a morsel of bread, till he could procure 
 himself a crust. In the course of a few days he was 
 engaged as an errand-boy by a tallow-chandler. 
 Mrs. Dip, a lady of London mould, however, could 
 not reconcile herself to his rustic manners and awk- 
 ward gait ; so that she dismissed him one cold win- 
 ter’s evening, with this observation, “Youi master 
 hired you in my absence, and I’ll pack you off in 
 his.” The good husband did not desert Tom ; he 
 found him out, and bound him apprentice to a 
 butcher, in the Borough of Southwark. lie behaved 
 so well during his apprenticeship, that his master 
 recommended him, when he was out of his time, to 
 a brother of the cleaver in Clare-market, as a jour- 
 neyman. Tom’s maxim was, that honesty was 
 not the shortest road to wealth, but that it was by 
 far the surest. For the first five years he was 
 engaged at twenty-five pounds a year, meat and 
 drink. The accumulation of money, and the abridge- 
 ment of expense, were the two sole objects of his 
 thoughts. His expenses were reduced to these 
 three heads, lodging, clothing, and washing : as to 
 the first, he fixed on a back room on the second 
 floor, with one window, that occasionally admitted a 
 straggling sunbeam. As to dress, every article was 
 second-hand, nor was he choice in the color or 
 quality ; jocosely observing, when he was twitted 
 on his garb, that, according to Solomon, 'there was 
 15 
 
170 PORTRAITS OP CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 nothing new under the sun ; and that, as to color, 
 it was a mere matter of fancy ; and that that was 
 the best which stuck longest to its integrity : then, 
 as to washing, he used to say a man did not deserve 
 a shirt that would not wash it himself; and that the 
 only fault he had to find with Lord North was the 
 duty he imposed on soap. There was one expense, 
 however, that lay hea\^ on his mind, and which 
 robbed him of many a night’s sleep, and that was 
 shaving ; he often lamented that he had not learnt 
 to shave himself ; he used to console himself by 
 hoping, that beards would one day be in fashion, 
 and that even the Bond-street loungers would be 
 driven to wear artificial ones. He made a promise 
 one night ydien he was very thirsty, that as soon as 
 he had accumulated a thousand pounds, he would 
 treat himself to a pint of porter every Saturday. 
 Fortune soon put it in his power to perform this 
 promise, and he continued to observe it till the ad- 
 ditional duty was laid on porter ; he then sunk to 
 half a pint, as he thought that sufficient for any man 
 that did not wish to get drunk, and, of course, die 
 in a workhouse. If he heard of an auction in the 
 neighborhood, he was sure to run for a catalogue, 
 and when he had collected a number together, he 
 used to sell them for waste paper. When he was 
 first told that the Bank was restricted from paying 
 in specie, he shook loudly, as Klopstock the poet 
 says ; took to his bed, and could not be prevailed on 
 to taste a morsel., or wet his lips, till he was assured 
 that all was right. On Sundays, after dinner, he used 
 to lock himself up in his room, and amuse himself 
 with reading an old newspaper, or writing rhymes, 
 many of which he left behind him on slips of paper. 
 The following will serve as a specimen of his talents 
 in this way : — 
 
THOMAS FETT, THE MISER. 171 
 
 On hearing that Small-beer was raised. 
 
 They’ve rais’d the price of table drink; 
 
 What is the reason, do you think 1 
 
 The tax on malt, the cause I hear : 
 
 But what has malt to do with table-beer 1 
 
 He was never known, even in the depth of the 
 coldest winter, to light a fire in his room, or to go 
 to bed by candlelight. 
 
 He was a great friend to good cheer at the ex- 
 pense of another. ^ Every man,” said he, <£ ought 
 to eat when he can get it — an empty sack cannot 
 stand.” 
 
 If his thirst at any time got the better of his ava- 
 rice, and water was not at hand, he would some- 
 times venture to step into a public-house, and call 
 - for a penny-worth of beer. On trying occasions, 
 he was always sure to sit in the darkest corner of 
 the tap-room, in order that he might drink in every 
 thing that was said with thirsty ear. He was sel- 
 dom or ever known to utter a word, unless Bona- 
 parte or a parish dinner were mentioned, and then 
 he would draw a short contrast between French 
 kickshaws and the roast beef and plumb-pudding of 
 Old England, which he called the staple commodity 
 of life. Once on a time he was prompted, by what 
 demon I cannot tell, to purchase a pint of small 
 beer ; but the moment he locked it up in his closet, 
 he repented, tore the hair out of bis wig, and threw 
 the key out of the window, les» ne should be tempted, 
 in some unlucky moment, to make too free with it. 
 
 Thus far of the life of Thomas Pett, whose pulse, 
 for the last twenty years of his life, rose and fell 
 with the funds ; who never lay down or rose that he 
 did not bless the first inventor of compound interest ; 
 whose constant saying was, u that gold was the 
 clouded cane of youth, and the crutch of old age 
 who, for forty-two years, lived in Clare-market as a 
 
172 PORTRAITS OP CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 journeyman butcher ; who lodged thirty years in one 
 gloomy apartment, which was never brightened with 
 coal, candlelight, or the countenance of a visitant ; 
 who never treated man, woman, or child, to a glass 
 of any kind of liquor ; who never lent or borrowed 
 a penny ; who never spoke ill or well of any one ; 
 who never ate a morsel at his own expense ; who 
 never said a civil thing, as far as is known, to that 
 part of the creation which renders life tolerable ; 
 who would not trust a washerwoman with a pocket- 
 handkerchief ; who looked on all mankind to be 
 fools, or mad, who did not pile up yellow dirt ; and 
 who wanted to bargain for a coffin half an hour be- 
 fore he died. 
 
 About three days before his dissolution, he was 
 pressed by his mistress to make his will, which he 
 at last reluctantly assented to, observing, as he 
 signed his name, that it was a hard thing that a man 
 should sign away all his property with a stroke of a 
 pen. 
 
 He left £2,415 in the three per cents, to distant 
 relations, not one of whom he had ever seen or cor- 
 responded with. 
 
 The following list of his wearing apparel, &c. was 
 taken after his death by a wag in the neighborhood. 
 
 An old bald wig. 
 
 A hat as limber as a pancake. 
 
 Two shirts that might pass for fishing-nets. 
 
 A pair of stockings embroidered with threads of 
 different colors. 
 
 A pair of shoes, or rather sandals. 
 
 A bedstead instead of a bed. 
 
 A toothless comb. 
 
 An almanack out of all date . 
 
 A gouty chair and a leafless table. 
 
 A looking-glass that had out lived reflection. 
 
 A leathern bag, with a captive guinea, &c. &c. 
 
EDWARDS, THE WELCH CONJUROR. 
 
 173 
 
 EDWARDS, THE WELCH CONJURER. 
 
 At the Flintshire Great Sessions in April, 1818, 
 a trial came on which exhibited a singular instance 
 of superstition and imposture. The prosecution was 
 Edward Pierce against John Edwards, for obtaining 
 money under false pretences. 
 
 The nature of the case will be best understood 
 from the evidence. 
 
 Edward Pierce examined by Mr. Temple. — I live 
 at Llandyrnog, in the county of Denbigh. I saw 
 John Edwards at his own house, called Berth-ddu, 
 in the parish of Northop, in the month of April, 
 1815. I understood I had been put in Fynnon 
 Elian ; I mean my name had been put in. I thought 
 something was the matter with me. I saw every 
 thing going cross. I was informed that John Ed- 
 wards pulled people out of the well ; I went to him 
 in order to be pulled out. 'I told him something was 
 the matter with me. He immediately observed my 
 name was put in Fynnon Elian. I trembled ! He 
 said it was not then a fit time to take my name out, 
 but desired me to wait till the next full moon, when 
 he would take me out. He requested me in the 
 interim to read the following Psalms : 6, 7, 20, 68, 
 109, and 118 ; afterwards he would let me know 
 when to go to Fynnon Elian, as there were other 
 . people to go with us — it was absolutely necessary to 
 go there. I went to his house in May following, 
 to inquire about the proper time to go to the well. 
 He said he would go on the following Sunday, and 
 desired me to meet him at St. Asaph. We met 
 there at seven o’clock on the Sunday evening ; it 
 was then full moon. Edwards fixed the day. When 
 I saw him at St. Asaph, he desired me to go on one 
 side with him to pay the money, which he said was 
 15 * 
 
174 PORTRAITS OP CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 to be given to the woman of the well, for taking my 
 name out ; he said, if I paid him, my name would 
 be taken out ; I was to pay 15s. ; but I told him I 
 had only 14s. 6d. by me, which he accepted. He 
 then engaged to take my name out, and pay the 
 money to the woman of the well. He told me, that 
 in consequence of having my name taken out, I 
 should have my health and authority as I wished to 
 have ;.I am sure he told me so ; I paid the money 
 in order that my name might be taken out. John 
 Edwards, myself, and two other men on the same 
 business, then started for the well ; we arrived there 
 from 12 to half-past 12 on Sunday night ; I never 
 saw the well before ; Edwards called me to the well, 
 and showed it me ; we went to a stile near the well ; 
 he bid us three go over and remain there till he 
 fetched the key from the house where the woman 
 of the well lived. He told me he would then pay 
 the woman ; he did not say where the house was ; 
 the well was inside a fence ; I did not see a key ; 
 there was no door on it to my knowledge. Edwards 
 was absent about 10 minutes ; when he returned he 
 desired one of the men to follow him ; one of the 
 strangers went with him ; they were absent about a 
 quarter of an hour or 20 minutes ; when the man 
 returned, I went in his stead. I found Edwards at 
 the well ; he bid me stand on one side of the well, 
 and say the Lord’s Prayer ; I did so ; he then 
 emptied the well with a small wooden cup ; when 
 emptying it, he prayed to Father, Son, and Holy 
 Ghost ; the well then filled again. He then put 
 some water into the cup, and desired me to drink 
 some of it, and throw the remainder over my head ; 
 he said I must do so three times ; I complied : after 
 this, Edwards said, now we will look for your name. 
 He put his hand a little above, near where the water 
 goes into the well ; he found something immedi- 
 
jJD WARDS, THE WELCH CONJUROR. 175 
 
 ately, and said, Here is something,” which he 
 gave to me. He desired me to put my hand in. 
 I did so, but could find nothing. What he gave me 
 was a piece of slate, a cork, a piece of sheet-lead ; 
 rolled up and tied together with a wire. I did not 
 open it till I got home ; it was in my possession till 
 then. When I opened the sheet-lead, I found a 
 piece of parchment inside, with the letters E. P. 
 upon it ; there were also some crosses. It was too 
 dark to read at the well. When Edwards gave it 
 me, he said he, thought it was my name, and said 
 every thing would be right and go on well with me, 
 and that I should come on better than usual. I 
 gave the slate, Stc. to Mr. Edward Thelwell ; I 
 had them in my possession till then. 
 
 After some other witnesses were examined, Mr. 
 Manley addressed the Jury on behalf of the defend- 
 ant, but called no witnesses. 
 
 The Chief Justice then proceeded to sum up the 
 evidence, and animadverted much on the enormity 
 of the offence. 
 
 The Jury, after a few minutes’ deliberation, found 
 the defendant guilty. — He was then remanded and 
 ordered to be brought up for judgment the following 
 day ; when the court intimated, that the offence of 
 which he had been convicted subjected him to trans- 
 portation ; but in consideration of its being the first 
 offence, and of his imprisonment since last Great 
 Session, sentenced him to be confined in the county 
 gaol for twelve calendar months. 
 
176 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 JOSEPH STRONG, THE BLIND 
 MECHANIC. 
 
 Mr. Joseph Strong, of Carlisle, who was living 
 in 1780, and fiad been blind from his infancy, fol- 
 lowed the business of a diaper-weaver, and was 
 allowed, even by people of the same occupation, to 
 be not only a good but an expeditious workman. 
 He lived to be somewhat advanced in years, but his 
 mechanical abilities were not impaired in any con- 
 siderable degree. In the exercise of these, besides 
 making almost every article of household furniture, 
 he constructed various pieces of machinery ; one of 
 which was the model of a loom, and the figure of a 
 man working it. As an appendage, he added a 
 brace of puppets, representing two women buffeting 
 each other, or, as he interpreted them to his visitors, 
 u boxing for the web.” 
 
 At different times he dressed himself with articles 
 entirely the work of his own hands. The instances 
 of his admirable execution are too various to be 
 enumerated here. 
 
 To show his strong propensity to produce, by his 
 own ingenuity and labor, whatever he thought wor- 
 thy of possessing, we shall add the following circum- 
 stances : 
 
 When he was about fifteen years of age, he con- 
 cealed himself one afternoon in the cathedral during 
 the time of service ; after which, the congregation 
 being gone, and the doors shut, he got into the organ 
 loft, and examined every part of the instrument. 
 This had engaged his attention till about midnight, 
 when, having satisfied himself respecting the gene- 
 ral construction, he proceeded to try the tones of 
 the different stops, and the proportion they bore to 
 each other. This experiment was not to be con- 
 
ROYAL IMPOSTORS. 
 
 177 
 
 ducted in so silent a manner as his former inquiries. 
 In short, the noise alarmed the neighborhood of the 
 church, and the circumstance of the organist having 
 died a short time before, and no successor having 
 been appointed, caused great consternation in the 
 ears of all who heard it. 
 
 After some deliberation, a party, less intimidated 
 than the rest, summoned resolution enough to enter 
 the church at that tremendous hour ; and Joseph, 
 not less confounded than his unexpected visitors, 
 was obliged to abandon his studies for that time. 
 The next day he was taken before the Dean, who, 
 after reprimanding him for the steps he had taken 
 to gratify his curiosity, permitted him to visit the 
 organ at all seasonable times. In consequence of 
 this he set about making a chamber organ, which he 
 completed without the assistance of any person. 
 
 He sold this instrument to a person in the Isle of 
 Man, who afterwards removed to Dublin, where it 
 was considered as a great curiosity. 
 
 Soon after his disposing of that he made another, 
 upon which he played for s his amusement and devo- 
 tion ; having a set of chaunts (his own composition) 
 which he frequently used as a religious exercise, 
 and to which he joined long and irregular lines, 
 expressive of various devotional subjects. 
 
 He walked from Carlisle to London to visit Mr. 
 Stanley, the celebrated organist and composer ; on 
 which occasion he made, for the hrst time, a pair 
 of shoes. 
 
 ROYAL IMPOSTORS. 
 
 From the earliest period to the present time im- 
 postors of every description have arisen. To trace 
 them through the various scenes of life would 
 
178 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 be an endless task. Some have boldly aspired to 
 thrones and dominions, and others have been con- 
 tented with the humblest tricks of imposition or 
 legerdemain. We might enumerate the regal im- 
 postors, the usurper, the courtier, the gambler, the 
 quack, the swindler, &c. ; and under each classifi- 
 cation detail the various species of imposture prac- 
 tised on society ; but we shall now simply confine 
 ourselves to Royal impostors. For this purpose we 
 need only advert to a few instances to prove the 
 credulity of mankind, when impudence and hypoc- 
 risy have blinded the understanding. 
 
 From Smerdis the Magian to the present period 
 many daring impositions have been practised on 
 society. Some of them, either from the cunning 
 and duplicity of the impostor, or the ignorance and 
 credulity of men, have been peculiarly successful in 
 transmitting the fruits of their fraud and imposture : 
 such was the notorious Mahomet. Others, of subor- 
 dinate importance, have emerged from obscurity ; 
 and, after disturbing the repose of society by a few 
 plausible pretensions, like meteoric exhalations, have 
 suddenly disappeared ; or have otherwise been con- 
 signed to the ignominy they deserved. Of this latter 
 class were, Demetrius of Russi a, Pugatskefthe Cos- 
 sack, Symnel and Perkin Warbeck of England, the 
 pretended Louis XVI. &c. & c. 
 
 We shall commence with Smerdis, as being the 
 most daring impostor of early times. Gambyses, 
 the King of Persia, murdered his brother Smerdis, 
 from jealousy and suspicion. At his departure from 
 Susa on his Egyptian expedition, he left the admin- 
 istration of affairs, during his absence, in the hands 
 of Patisithes, one of the chief of the Magi. This 
 man had a brother extremely like Smerdis the 
 brother of Cambyses. As soon as Patisithes was 
 assured of the death of that prince, which had been 
 
ROYAL IMPOSTORS. 
 
 179 
 
 concealed from the public, he placed his own brother 
 on the throne, declaring him to be the true Smerdis, 
 the son of Cyrus. Cambysis immediately gave or- 
 ders for his army to march from Egypt, and cut off 
 the usurper ; but receiving a wound in the thigh 
 from his own sword, at Ecbatana, he died soon 
 after. Before his death he represented the true 
 state of the case to the assembled chiefs of the Per- 
 sians, earnestly exhorting them not to submit to the 
 impostor who had usurped the empire. The Per- 
 sians, supposing he stated all this through hatred to 
 his brother, disregarded his request, and quietly 
 submitted to him whom they found on the throne, 
 supposing him to be Smerdis the true son of Cyrus. 
 He reigned for some months in undisputed sove- 
 reignty, until he was discovered to be Smerdis the 
 Magian by the loss of his ears, of which he had been 
 ignominiously deprived. 
 
 The success of that notorious impostor Mahomet 
 is too manifest at this day to enter into the least 
 detail. He has transmitted the fruits of his daring 
 hypocrisy and fraud to posterity, and they are likely 
 to remain as perpetual mementos of the most impu- 
 dent imposture that ever ruled the destinies of mor- 
 tals. 
 
 In 1605 an impostor in Poland pretended that he 
 was Demetrius, the son of John Basilowitz, Grand 
 Duke of Muscovy. He was the cause of a san- 
 guinary war betwixt Poland and Muscovy. He 
 stated that he was to have been murdered by the 
 order of Boris Gudenow, who hoped to obtain the 
 succession to the empire after the death of Theo- 
 dore, the eldest son of the said John Basilowitz ; 
 but that another had been killed in his stead. This 
 person having received great encouragement from 
 George Mniszeck, the Vayvod of Sendomir, prom- 
 ised to marry his daughter. On this assurance, 
 
180 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 Vayvod, with the assistance of some other Polish 
 lords, raised an army that marched with Demetrius 
 into Muscovy. The Grand Duke Boris Gudenow 
 dying soon after, Demetrius was warmly received 
 by the Russians, and, after having subdued those 
 who opposed him, he was proclaimed Grand Duke 
 of the city of Moscow. His conduct soon rendered 
 him odious to the Russians, he was suspected to be 
 an impostor, and they secretly raised an army of 
 20,000 men. At the celebration of his nuptuals, 
 they suddenly attacked the castle, and cut to pieces 
 Demetrius, and a great number of Poles who had 
 escorted the bride. After the death of Demetrius, 
 Basilius Zuski was proclaimed Grand Duke in the 
 public market, where he caused the usurper’s body 
 to be exposed to public view. Notwithstanding this 
 (such is the credulity of mankind), a rumour pre- 
 vailed that Demetrius had escaped the slaughter ; 
 and shortly after another individual appeared, who 
 pretended to be the same. The Poles acknowledged 
 him for Demetrius, and having formed a great army, 
 marched against the Russians. They several times 
 defeated Zuski, and set at liberty the captive bride 
 of Demetrius, who acknowledged him for her hus- 
 band. After much blood had been shed in various 
 battles, this daring and successful impostor was slain 
 by the Tartars who composed his guard. 
 
 During the reign of Catherine II. of Russia, 
 Pugatskef, a Cossack, was induced, in consequence 
 of his personal resemblance, to assume the name of 
 Peter III. who had been privately murdered by his 
 queen. He raised a revolt, which for some period 
 threatened serious consequences, and even made 
 Catherine herself to tremble. However, at the end 
 of the year 1774 he was captured, and put to death. 
 
 Great Britain has not been exempt from im- 
 postors of the same description, though of less con- 
 
kOYAl, IMPOSTORS. 
 
 181 
 
 sequence. In the reign of Henry VII. Lambert 
 Symnel, son of a baker, assumed the name and per- 
 son of Edward, Earl of Warwick, and caused him- 
 self to be proclaimed King in Ireland. This impos- 
 ture was contrived by a priest, and encouraged by 
 Margaret, the widow of Charles, Duke of Burgundy, 
 sister to Edward IV. Symnel transported an army 
 out of Ireland into England. Being signally routed 
 by Henry, he was taken prisoner, and made a turn- 
 spit in the king’s kitchen. 
 
 In the year 1491, Margaret, dutchess dowager 
 of Burgundy, set up another impostor, whose name 
 was Perkin Warbeck, who pretended to be Richard, 
 a younger son of King Edward IY. He possessed 
 talent much superior to his predecessor Symnel, 
 and managed the business so well, that he caused a 
 considerable sensation in England. However, the 
 Scotch, who- supported him, having been defeated, 
 W arbeck fled into Cornwall, and there caused himself 
 to be proclaimed King •, but receiving little support, 
 he was compelled to surrender himself, when he was 
 committed a prisoner to the Tower. Having twice 
 made attempts to escape, he was at length hanged, 
 according to his demerits. 
 
 After the fatal expedition of Sebastian, the youth- 
 ful King of Portugal, to Morocco, in 1578, a bold 
 adventurer aspired to the throne. He took the ad- 
 vantage of assuming Sebastian’s name, in conse- 
 quence of a similarity of features. Like his deceased 
 sovereign, he had but one eye. He gained numerous 
 partisans, which enabled him, for some time, to carry 
 on perpetual contests with Henry the uncle of Se- 
 bastian. At last he received the reward of his 
 deserts. 
 
 In descending to our own times, we have a re- 
 cent instance of ridiculous imposture, in the person 
 of Mathurin Bruneau, the pretended Daupiu^ cf 
 16 
 
182 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 France. His pretensions were prompted more by 
 folly and puerile vanity, than cunning design, or 
 studied hypocrisy. Although the strongest symp 
 toms of insanity frequently betrayed his actions, he 
 had the power of imposing on the credulity of num- 
 bers. Had he possessed intellect or energy, a seri- 
 ous commotion, excited by designing villains or 
 credulous fools, might possibly have ensued. For- 
 tunately his conduct in the court of justice evinced 
 undoubted signs of idiotcy. On being sentenced to 
 a fine and imprisonment, he impudently replied, 
 “ I am not less what I am.” The process against 
 this impostor induced a person named Sieur Du- 
 fresne to assume the title of Charles Navarre. He 
 insisted on an audience with the King, and in this 
 r attempt was apprehended. He was discovered to 
 be mad, and accordingly sent to Charenton, the 
 Bedlam of Paris. 
 
 FRANK HALS, THE PAINTER. 
 
 Among the many painters the city of Mechlin has 
 produced, none excelled Mr. Frank Hals, who was 
 born there, in 1584. He was a pupil of Charles 
 Van Mander, and applied himself to the study of 
 nature, as to find no competitor, except Vandyke, 
 whom he equalled in every thing, but clearness and 
 delicacy of coloring. 
 
 While Mr. Hals resided at Haerlem, Vandyke 
 went purposely to visit him, and calling, as if by 
 accident, to view his pictures, desired to sit for his 
 portrait, which, as he had only two hours to stay, 
 must be painted immediately. 
 
 Hals immediately began with his usual rapidity, 
 and succeeded so well, that he desired Vandyke to 
 
18 '} 
 
 FRANK IIALS, THE FAINTER. 
 
 view his progress ; which he did, and observed to 
 him that painting seemed so easy, that he thought 
 he could paint a portrait himself ; and desiring Hals 
 to give him the pallet and pencils, begged him to sit, 
 which he complied with, and in a quarter of an hour 
 he produced a sketch, which threw the artist into 
 such an extasy, that he rapturously exclaimed, it 
 could only be Vandyke himself who had honored 
 him with a visit. 
 
 Mr. Frank Hals in his life and manners, was un- 
 fortunately (for himself) as dissipated as he was 
 excellent in his profession ; he was almost every 
 night in a state of intoxication at some neighboring 
 tavern, whence it became regularly the business of 
 his pupils to conduct him home to bed. 
 
 In this state of inebriety he would frequently fall 
 to prayers, which were so loud as to be heard all 
 over the house ; his ejaculations often concluded 
 with u Oh, Lord, take me quickly to thy highest 
 heaven . 77 
 
 The pupils, among whom was that excellent artist, 
 Adrian Brouwer, having determined on a joke at 
 the expense of their master, contrived so to fix some 
 ropes under his bed, as in the midst of his prayer 
 to draw him to the ceiling ; which Hals perceiving, 
 he roared out lustily, ‘‘Not quite so soon, Oh Lord ! 
 I shall be glad to stay here a little longer . 77 He 
 was afterwards heard to pray ; but never expressed 
 a wish to be taken hence so suddenly. 
 
 This celebrated painter was much entreated by 
 Vandyke to visit England ; but his unhappy turn 
 for indolence prevailed over his interest, and he died 
 in indigence at the age of eighty, leaving a numerous 
 family, all painters and musicians. 
 
184 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 ANNE MOORE, OF TUTBURY. 
 
 This vile impostor, who pretended she could live 
 without food, was born at Royston, near Ashborn, 
 in the county of Derby, in the year 1761. Her 
 parents were poor, and of the name of Peg. At the 
 age of twenty-seven she married James Moore, a 
 laborer, with whom she soon parted, after which she 
 had two children by her master, a boy and a girl. — 
 About the beginning of 1807, when residing at Tut- 
 bury, a village in Staffordshire, she first excited 
 public attention, by declaring she could live without 
 food. An assertion so repugnant to reason and na- 
 ture was of course rejected. She therefore offered 
 to prove the truth of her assertion by submitting to 
 be watched for a considerable time. 
 
 In order to satisfy the public, she was removed 
 from her home to the house of Mr. 'Jackson, grocer, 
 of the same village, and all the inhabitants were 
 invited to join in watching her. A Mr. Tailor, sur- 
 geon, superintended the watching, which continued 
 sixteen days, during which time she was allowed a 
 little water, on the three first days. When the watch 
 had ended, she was removed to her own house ; and 
 Mr. Taylor published an account, declaring that she 
 had lived for thirteen days, without taking any food, 
 liquid, or solid. This account, so attested, was be- 
 lieved by numbers, who flocked to see her, and few 
 visited her without leaving some proof of their cre- 
 dulity or pity. By this means she collected about 
 £ 250 . 
 
 Though the declaration of the persons who for- 
 merly watched her, had obtained considerable credit, 
 yet there were many who thought her an impostor, 
 and demanded that she should be again watched. 
 A committee was formed of the neighboring clergy 
 
ANNE MOORE, OF TUTBURY. 185 
 
 men and magistrates, who met on Tuesday, the 20th 
 of April, 1813 ; and the time it was determined she 
 should be watched was fixed- at one month, to which 
 she at last was obliged to assent. 
 
 Her bed was filled with chaff, and the clothes ex- 
 amined in the presence of the committee. The 
 watch entered on their office at two o’clock on 
 Wednesday. She received the watches with as 
 much good manners as she was capable of, though 
 she had been crying bitterly before they came. 
 The first watch, which continued four hours, was 
 begun by Sir Oswald Mosley and the Rev. Leigh 
 Richmond, and followed by several other gentlemen. 
 At the end of seven days the public was informed 
 that she had during that time taken no food what- 
 ever. Great confidence was now expressed by her 
 advocates that she would endure the ordeal with 
 credit. But when the machine for weighing her 
 was put under the bed, it was found that she lost 
 'weight rapidly. At last, on the ninth day, she 
 insisted upon the watches quitting the room, declar- 
 ing that she was very ill, and that her daughter must 
 be sent for. She was now greatly reduced, and 
 the watches who attended her were much alarmed, 
 lest she should expire, and apprehensive of being 
 implicated in the charge of murder, they quitted the 
 room, and admitted the daughter, who administered 
 what she thought proper, when the mother began to 
 recover. 
 
 One remarkable circumstance was, that on F riday, 
 the 30th of April, after the watch broke up, she de- 
 sired to take a solemn oath that she had not, during 
 the time she was watched, taken any food whatever ; 
 which oath was administered unto her. This she 
 did in hope, notwithstanding all, still to impose upon 
 the oublic. But as her clothes gave evidence 
 16 * 
 
186 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 against her, to her utter confusion, she was brought 
 at last to make the following confession : — 
 
 u I, Anne Moore, of Tutbury, humbly asking 
 pardon of all persons whom I have attempted to de- 
 ceive and impose upon, and above all, with the most 
 unfeigned sorrow and contrition, imploring the di- 
 vine mercy and forgiveness of that God, whom I 
 have greatly offended, do most solemnly declare, 
 that I have occasionally taken sustenance for the 
 last six years. 
 
 “ Witness my hand, this fourth day of May, 1813. 
 
 “ The mark M of Anne Moore.” 
 
 The above declaration of Anne Moore, was made 
 before me, one of his Majesty’s Justices of the 
 Peace for the county of Stafford. 
 
 Thomas Lister. 
 
 Witness of the above declaration and signature 
 of my mother Anne Moore, 
 
 Mary Moore 
 
 This impostor was committed to prison, February, 
 1816, for falsely collecting money under the pre- 
 tence of charity. 
 
 MR. JOSEPH CAPPER. 
 
 Mr. Joseph Capper, who died in August, 1804, 
 was, perhaps, the most eccentric character living 
 since the celebrated miser, Elwes. He was born 
 in Cheshire, of humble parents : his family being 
 numerous, he came to London at an early age (as he 
 used to say) to shift for himself, and was bound 
 apprentice to a grocer. Mr. Capper soon mani- 
 fested great quickness and industry, and proved a 
 
MR. JOSEPH CAPPER. 
 
 187 
 
 most valuable servant to his master. It was one of 
 the chief boasts of his life, that he had gained the 
 confidence of his employer, and never betrayed it. 
 Being of an enterprising spirit, Mr. Capper com- 
 menced business as soon as he was out of his appren- 
 ticeship, in the neighborhood of Rosemary-lane. His 
 old master was his only friend, and recommended 
 him so strongly to the dealers in his line, that credit 
 to a very large amount was given to him. In pro- 
 portion as he became successful, he embarked in 
 various speculations, but in none was so fortunate 
 as in the funds. He at length amassed a sum suffi- 
 cient to enable him to decline all business. Mr. 
 Capper, having now lost his old master, was resolved 
 to lead a sedentary life. This best suited his dispo- 
 sition ; for, although he possessed many amiable 
 qualities, yet he was the most tyrannical and over- 
 bearing man living, and never seemed so happy as 
 when placed by the side of a churlish companion. 
 For several days he walked about the vicinity of 
 London, searching for lodgings, without being able 
 to please himself. Being one day much fatigued, 
 he called at the Horns at Kennington, took a chop, 
 and spent the day, and asked for a bed in his usual 
 blunt manner ; when he was answered in the same 
 churlish style by the landlord, that he could not have 
 one. Mr. Capper was resolved to stop, if he could, 
 all his life, to plague the growling fellow, and re- 
 fused to retire. After some altercation, however, 
 he was accomodated with a bed, and never slept out 
 of it for twenty-five years. During that time he 
 made no agreement for lodging or eating, but wished 
 to be considered as a customer only for the day. 
 For many years he talked about quitting this resi- 
 dence the next day. His manner of living was so 
 methodical, that he would not drink his tea out of 
 any other than a favorite cup. He was equally par- 
 
188 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 ticular with respect to his knives and forks, plates, 
 &.c. In winter and summer he rose at the same 
 hour, and when the mornings were dark, he was so 
 accustomed to the house, that he walked about the 
 apartments without the assistance of any light. At 
 breakfast he arranged, in a peculiar way, the para- 
 phernalia of the tea-table, but first of all he would 
 read the newspapers. At dinner he also observed 
 a general rule, and invariably drank his pint of wine. 
 His supper was uniformly a gill of rum, with sugar, 
 lemon-peel, and porter, mixed together ; the latter 
 he saved from the pint he had at dinner. From this 
 economical plan he never devial ‘‘d. His bill for a 
 fortnight amounted regularly to £q. 18s. He called 
 himself the Champion of Government, and his great- 
 est glory was certainly his country and king. He 
 joined in all subscriptions which tended to the aid 
 of government. He was exceedingly choleric, and 
 nothing raised his anger so soon as declaiming 
 against the British cflfcistitution. In the parlor, he 
 kept his favorite chair, and there he would often 
 amuse himself with satirizing the customers, or the 
 landlord, if he could make his jokes tell better. It 
 was his maxim, never to join in general conversa- 
 tion, but to interrupt it, whenever he could say any 
 thing ill-natured. Mr. Capper’s conduct to his rela- 
 tions was exceedingly capricious ; he never would 
 see any of them. As they were chiefly in indigent 
 circumstances, he had frequent applications from 
 them to borrow money. u Are they industrious ?” 
 he would inquire ; when being answered in the 
 affirmative, he would add, “ Tell them I have been 
 deceived already, and never will advance a sixpence 
 by way of loan, but I will give them the sum they 
 want ; and if ever I hear they make known the cir- 
 cumstance, I will cut them off with a shilling.” 
 Soon after Mr. Townsend became landlord of the 
 
MR. JOSEPH CAPPER. 
 
 189 
 
 Horns, he had an opportunity of making a few good 
 ready-money purchases, and applied to the old man 
 for a temporary loan : — ic I wish (said he) to serve 
 you, Townsend ; you seem an industrious fellow ; 
 but how is it to be done, Mr. Townsend ? I have 
 sworn never to lend, I must therefore give it thee ;” 
 which he accordingly did the following -day. Mr. 
 Townsend proved grateful for this mark of liberality, 
 and never ceased to administer to him eve.ry mark 
 of comfort the house would afford ; and what was, 
 perhaps, more gratifying to the old man, he indulged 
 him in his eccentricities. Mr. Capper was elected 
 a steward of the parlor fire ; and if any persons were 
 daring enough to put a poker in it without his per- 
 mission, they stood a fair chance of feeling the 
 weight of his cane. In summer time, a favorite di- 
 version of his was killing flies in the parlor with his 
 cane ; but, as he was sensible of the ill opinion this 
 would produce among the bystanders, he would with 
 great ingenuity introduce a story about the rascality 
 of all Frenchmen, “ whom,” says he, “ I hate and 
 detest, and would knock down just the same as these 
 flies.” This was the signal for attack, and presently 
 the killed and wounded were scattered about in all 
 quarters of the room. This truly eccentric charac- 
 ter lived to the age of seventy-seven, in excellent 
 health ; and then died suddenly. In his boxes were 
 found £100 in bank notes, a few guineas, a great 
 many government securities, and a will, which the 
 parties present proceeded to read. It was curiously 
 worded and made on the back of a sheet of banker’s 
 checks. It was dated five years back, and the bulk 
 of his property, which was then upwards of £ 30, 000, 
 he left equally among his poor relations. The two 
 nephews were nominated executors, and were be- 
 queathed between them £8000 in the three per cents. 
 What has become of all the property which has 
 
190 PORTRAITS OF CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 been accumlating since the will was made, does not 
 appear. From Mr. Capper’s declarations in his 
 life time, there was reason to suppose he had made 
 another will, as the one found did not appear to be 
 witnessed. 
 
 SAMUEL STRETCH, THE MISER. 
 
 In November, 1804, there died at Madeley, in 
 Staffordshire, Mr. Samuel Stretch, aged 72, who 
 may with justice be ranked in the catalogue of 
 eccentric misers. He was a native of Market Dray- 
 ton, in that county, and the early part of his life was 
 spent as a private in the army, in which capacity he 
 experienced some service, in fighting the battles of 
 his country. For a length of time he resided in an 
 obscure dwelling at Madeley, into which he did not 
 for many years admit either male or female ; it was 
 indeed a dwelling of complete wretchedness. It was 
 about fifteen years before that he purchased a load 
 of coals, a part of which were left at the time of his 
 death. His chief employ was to go about to the 
 adjacent towns, carrying letters and small parcels, 
 and doing errands for his neighbors. His person 
 bespoke the most abject penury ; he usually ap- 
 peared in an old slouched hat and tattered garments, 
 scarcely sufficient to cover his nakedness, with a 
 ragged bag hung over his shoulder, in which he 
 mostly carried a little parsley, or some other kind 
 of herb, the produce of his garden : these he gene- 
 rally offered as a present at the different places 
 where he had to do business ; and when accepted, 
 he took care to deal them out with a very sparing 
 hand. This show of generosity, together with his 
 eccentric dress and conversation, usually produced 
 
OLD BOOTS/ 
 
 151 
 
 him a tenfold return. On searching his tattered 
 satchel after his death, it was found to contain old 
 bones and shoe soles, pieces of paper, &c. which 
 articles he usually collected in his peregrinations. 
 His stock of linen consisted of two old shirts and a 
 pair of sheets ; in his hat were found several articles 
 of silver plate, 8cc. His death was occasioned by a 
 violent cold, brought on by his falling into a ditch in 
 a state of intoxication on his return from Newcas- 
 tle the Saturday preceding. By his penurious dis- 
 position he had amassed a considerable sum of 
 > money, (exclusive of a loss of £500 which he expe- 
 rienced a few years before) a part of which he left 
 to purchase an additional bell for the church at 
 Madeley, and an annual salary for it to be rung 
 every night at nine o’clock during the summer 
 months, and at eight during the winter ; a chande- 
 lier for the church ; a bell for the use of the free 
 school ; £5 per annum towards the organist’s salary 
 for that place, and a like annual amount for the 
 Drayton organist ; a further sum to be applied to 
 the enlarging and repairing the Madeley alms- 
 houses, and clothing and educating two poor chil- 
 dren, until of a proper age to be put apprentice ; 
 and to his relations, two shillings and sixpence 
 each. 
 
 OLD &OOTS, 
 
 Never, certainly, were the nose and chin of any 
 human being on more friendly terms than those of 
 Old Boots. This singular individual lived at an Inn 
 at Rippon, in Yorkshire, in the humble but useful 
 capacity of boots ; and though his singular appear- 
 ance subjected him to a thousand jokes, yet poor 
 
192 PORTRAITS OP CURIOUS CHARACTERS. 
 
 Boots good naturedly bore them all ; particularly 
 (which was frequently the case) when they were 
 paid for by a present of money. Many a thrifty 
 traveller was led to crack a joke on Boots’ nose, 
 and then present him with sixpence or a shilling to 
 place between it and his chin, and thus go whistling 
 out of the room. Eating would almost seem to have 
 given Boots some difficulty ; but on such occasions, 
 the two prominent features of his face were very 
 accommodating, and by distending his mouth pretty 
 wide, he could contrive at any meal to introduce in 
 a short time a pound of bacon, with a due proportion 
 of bread, beer, and vegetables. He was, however, 
 an inoffensive creature, kind to his equals, and 
 humble to his superiors, which made poor Boots a 
 great favorite with all the visitors at the inn, where 
 he long lived, and died. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
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