Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2007 with funding from 
 
 Microsoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/eighteenthcenturOOashtrich 
 
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS 
 
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN A.SHTON 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 SOCIAL LIFE IN THE REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE,' 
 
 ETC., ETC. 
 
 >•_ • \* » 
 
 JN ONE VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 1887. 
 
 AH Bights Reserved. 
 
A71 
 
PREFACE, 
 
 It was probably Solomon, who, in Ecclesiastes, 
 cap. 12, v. 12, said, ' Of making many books 
 there is no end.' But, if this book had to have 
 been written by him, he might, probably, have 
 modified his opinion. 
 
 I have read some books in my life-time, re 
 the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth cen- 
 turies, and therefore was not taken aback when 
 I was advised by a learned friend, whom I con- 
 sulted as to the subject of a new book, to try 
 the ' Musgrave Tracts,' in the British Museum. 
 I thanked him, and wrote for them, when I was 
 politely asked, l Did I want them all ?' c Of 
 course,' was my reply ; when I was told, with 
 the courtesy that particularly distinguishes the 
 establishment, that I had better come into an 
 inner room, and have them down shelf by shelf. 
 
 The books came in a continuous stream, until 
 I asked if there were any more. c Oh, yes,' was 
 the reply; and, when I had finished my job, I 
 
 898979 
 
iv PREFACE. 
 
 found I had gone through more than 1760 vol- 
 umes. Add to this over 200 other books and 
 newspapers used for reference, &c, and that will 
 represent some amount of the labour employed 
 in writing a book. 
 
 I have strung together a series of chapters 
 of different phases of social life and biography 
 of the last century, none of which have (as far 
 as I am concerned) appeared in any magazine, 
 but which have all been specially written for 
 this book. And this I have done so that the 
 book may be taken up at any time, and laid 
 down again at the end of an article ; and per- 
 haps the best reason for my publishing this 
 book is, that it gives the reader a brief resume 
 of each subject treated, taken from sources, 
 thoroughly original, which are usually inac- 
 cessible to the general public, and known but 
 to few students. 
 
 They are diverse, to suit all tastes ; and if 
 this, my venture, is successful, I may bashfully 
 hint that my store is not yet exhausted. 
 
 JOHN ASHTON. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Forgotten Fanatic .... \ 
 
 A Fashionable Lady's Life 17 
 
 George Barrington 31 
 
 Milton's Bones 55 
 
 The True Story of Eugene Aram 83 
 
 Redemptioners U2 
 
 A Trip to Richmond in Surrey 131 
 
 George Robert Fitzgerald 135 
 
 Eighteenth Century Amazons 177 
 
 1 The Times ' and its Founder 203 
 
 Imprisonment for Debt 227 
 
 Jonas Hanway 254 
 
 A Holy Voyage to Ramsgate One Hundred Years Ago . 278 
 
 Quacks of the Century . 287 
 
 Cagliostro in London 333 
 
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 A FORGOTTEN FANATIC. 1 
 
 NE of the most curious phases of religious 
 mania is that where the patient is under 
 the impression that he is divinely inspired, 
 and has a special mission to his fellow- 
 men, which he is impelled to fulfil at 
 all costs and under all circumstances. 
 
 From the earliest ages of Christianity pseudo-Christoi 
 or false Christs, existed. Simon Magus, Dositheus, 
 and the famous Barcochab were among the first of 
 them, and they were followed by Moses, in Crete, 
 in the fifth century; Julian, in Palestine, circa A.D. 
 530 ; and Serenus, in Spain, circa A.D. 714. There 
 were, in the twelfth century, some seven or eight 
 in France, Spain, and Persia ; and, coming to more 
 modern times, there was Sabbatai Zewi, a native of 
 Aleppo, or Smyrna, who proclaimed himself to be 
 
 1 It may be objected that this story pertains more to the 
 seventeenth than the eighteenth century; but, as the man 
 Roderick was alive in the last century, I claim him as belonging 
 to it. 
 
 B 
 
2; : '. ; . . EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 the Messiah, in Jerusalem, circa 1666. The list of 
 religious fanatics is a long one. Mahomet, Munzer, 
 John of Ley den, Brothers, Matthews, Joanna South- 
 cott, 'Courtenay/ or Thomas, and Joe Smith are 
 among them, and are well-known; but there are 
 hundreds of others whose work has not been on so 
 grand a scale, or whose influence has not been of 
 the national importance of the above ; and it is of 
 one of these forgotten fanatics that I now treat. 
 
 Well out in the Atlantic Ocean, far west, indeed, 
 even of the Western Isles, stands the lonely island 
 of St. Kilda, or Hirta, as it used to be called, from 
 h-Iar-tir, the Gaelic for West land, or West country. 
 Its rocky sides are inaccessible, except at one landing- 
 place, at a bay on the south-east, and it is the home 
 and breeding-place of millions of sea-birds, whose 
 flesh and eggs form the main supply of food for the 
 inhabitants, and whose feathers, together with a 
 few sheep and cattle, and what little barley can be 
 grown, or butter can be made, pay the trifling rent 
 required, and help to provide the bare necessaries of 
 civilized existence. 
 
 The inhabitants are not healthy, so many dying, as 
 young children, of a disease locally known as the ' eight 
 day sickness/ a disease which generally attacks them 
 on the eighth or ninth day after birth, and mostly 
 proves fatal in the course of a day or two. From 
 this and other causes, including falls from cliffs, the 
 population has remained nearly stationary, as is evi- 
 denced by the fact that for the last hundred years 
 the inhabitants have averaged under a hundred. 
 Indeed, at one time, in 1724, small-pox attacked 
 the islanders, being imported by one of them on his 
 return from a visit to Harris, and all the adults died 
 
A FORGOTTEN FANATIC. 3 
 
 except four, who were left to take care of twenty- 
 six orphans, all that were left of twenty-four families. 
 
 Lying out of the ordinary track of boats, even of 
 yachts, it is, even now, seldom visited, and in the 
 last century no one except the steward of Macleod 
 (whose family have been the possessors of St. Kilda 
 for hundreds of years), who made an annual pil- 
 grimage to collect the rent, ever came near the 
 place. Its loneliness was proverbial, so much so 
 that it was an article of faith that the arrival of 
 strangers brought with them a kind of influenza 
 called boat-cough, which was sometimes fatal. This 
 singular disease does not seem to be confined to St. 
 Kilda, for Bates, in < The Naturalist on the River 
 Amazon/ mentions certain tribes near Ega who are 
 gradually becoming extinct from a slow fever and 
 cold, which attacks them after they have been 
 visited by civilised people. And in the 'Cruise of 
 H.M.S. Galatea,' in 1867-68, it says, ■ Tristran d'Acunha 
 is a remarkably healthy island ; but it is a singular 
 fact that any vessel touching there from St. Helena 
 invariably brings with it a disease resembling 
 influenza.' 
 
 This belief is amusingly illustrated in Boswell's 
 ' Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides.' ' This evening 
 he (Dr. Johnson) disputed the truth of what is said 
 as to the people of St. Kilda catching cold when- 
 ever strangers come. " How can there," said he, 
 " be a physical effect without a physical cause V* 
 He added, laughing, " The arrival of a ship full of 
 strangers would kill them ; for, if one stranger gives 
 them one cold, two strangers must give them two 
 colds, and so on in proportion." I wondered to hear 
 him ridicule this, as he had praised McAulay for 
 
 B 2 
 
4 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 putting it in his book, 1 saying that it was manly in 
 him to tell a fact, however strange, if he himself 
 believed it. They said it was annually proved by 
 Macleod's steward, on whose arrival all the inhabit- 
 ants caught cold. He jocularly remarked, "The 
 steward always comes to demand something from 
 them, and so they fall a-coughing. I suppose the 
 
 people in Skye all take a cold when " (naming 
 
 a certain person) " comes." They said he only came 
 in summer. Johnson — " That is out of tenderness to 
 you. Bad weather and he at the same time would 
 be too much." ' 
 
 The first printed account of this poor lonely island 
 is, probably, in a little book by Donald Monro, High 
 Dean of the Isles, 2 1594. He there says, ' The in- 
 habitants therof ar simple poor people, scarce learnit 
 in aney religion, but McCloyd of Herray, 3 his stewart, 
 or he quhom he deputs in sic office, sailes anes in 
 the zeir ther at midsummer, with some chaplaine to 
 baptize bairns ther, and if they want 4 a chaplaine, 
 they baptize their bairns themselfes.' 
 
 At the end of the seventeenth century, when Rode- 
 rick, the religious impostor, or fanatic, lived, things 
 spiritual were somewhat improved, although they only 
 had the annual clerical visit. There were three 
 chapels on the island, to serve a population of one 
 hundred and eighty. One was called Christ's Chapel, 
 hardly discernible from one of their dwellings, being 
 built and thatched in a similar manner ; but it con- 
 
 1 "The History of St. Kilda,' etc. By the Rev. Mr. Kenneth 
 
 Macaulay. London, 1764. 
 
 * ■ Description of the Western Isles of Scotland, called Hebrides,' 
 
 etc. 
 
 3 Harris, * Scottice, are without. 
 
A FORGOTTEN FANATIC. 5 
 
 tained one of their chief treasures, a brass crucifix, 
 which lay upon an altar therein. They paid no 
 adoration or worship to this, but it was their most 
 precious possession, being used, as are the gospels 
 elsewhere, for the purpose of solemn asseveration, 
 and it was also made use of at marriages and the 
 healing of strife. 
 
 The people observed as Holy-days Christmas, 
 Easter, Good Friday, St. Columba's Day, and All 
 Saints. They ceased all work at midnight on Satur- 
 day, and kept the Sabbath, in this respect, very 
 strictly, only resuming their ordinary avocations on 
 Monday morning. They believed in the Trinity, and 
 in a future state of happiness and misery, and that 
 God ordains all things. They took great care with 
 their churchyard, which they fenced round with 
 stone, so that no cattle should desecrate God's Acre, 
 and they had a peculiar belief in the embodiment of 
 spirits, and fancied that they could, at will, incorporate 
 themselves with the rocks, hills, etc. 
 
 Of the three chapels, one only seems to have been 
 used, and this, not being large enough to accommodate 
 the islanders, the whole of the inhabitants would 
 assemble, on every Sunday morning, in the church- 
 yard, and there devoutly say the Lord's Prayer, 
 the Creed, and the Ten Commandments. This form 
 of worship was simple enough ; but it seems to 
 have been of recent introduction — i.e., about the 
 beginning of the seventeenth century ; when, some- 
 how or other, there was a man upon the island who 
 passed for a Roman Catholic priest, but who was so 
 ignorant that he did not know the Lord's Prayer, 
 the Creed, or the Decalogue correctly; and, con- 
 sequently, he taught the poor people an incorrect 
 
6 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 version, but to him they owed the crucifix, and the 
 observance of the Holy-days before mentioned, and 
 with this teacher they were content until the year 
 1641, when one Coll McDonald, or Ketoch, fled from 
 Ireland, and, with a few men, landed at St. Kilda, 
 where he lived in amity with the inhabitants for 
 nearly a year. He rebuked the so-called priest for 
 his ignorance, and he taught the poor simple folk 
 the correct version of the text of their very primitive 
 worship — in fine, he was considered so far superior 
 to the priest, that the natives would fain have 
 deposed the latter; but this McDonald would not 
 sutler. 
 
 Martin Martin, 1 writing in 1698, describes the happy 
 condition of the islanders at that date. 'The In- 
 habitants of St. Kilda are much happier than the 
 generality of Mankind, as being almost the only 
 People in the World who feel the sweetness of true 
 Liberty : What the Condition of the People in the 
 Golden Age is feign'd by the Poets to be, that theirs 
 really is ; I mean, in Innocency and Simplicity, Purity, 
 Mutual Love, and Cordial Friendship, free from solicitous 
 Cares and anxious Covetousness ; from Envy, Deceit, 
 and Dissimulation ; from Ambition and Pride, and the 
 Consequences that attend them. They are altogether 
 ignorant of the Vices of Foreigners, and governed by 
 the Dictates of Reason and Christianity, as it was 
 first delivered to them by those Heroick Souls whose 
 Zeal moved them to undergo danger and trouble, to 
 plant Religion here in one of the remotest Corners 
 of the World.' 
 
 This Eden, however, was doomed to have its 
 
 1 'A Late Voyage to St. Kilda, the Remotest of all the Hebrides, ' 
 etc., London, 1698. 
 
A FORGOTTEN FANATIC. 7 
 
 Serpent, and these simple folk were fated to be led 
 into error by a man who seems to have been physic- 
 ally above the average of the islanders, for he is 
 described as * a Comely, well-proportioned fellow, 
 Ked-hair'd, and exceeding all the Inhabitants of St. 
 Kilda in Strength, Climbing, &c.' Naturally he was 
 illiterate, for the means of culture were altogether 
 lacking in that lonely isle ; but he was above his 
 fellows, inasmuch as he was a poet, and, moreover, 
 he claimed to have the gift of * second sight/ a pre- 
 tension which would naturally cause him to be looked 
 up to by these Gaelic islanders. These qualifica- 
 tions which Roderick (for such was his name) claimed, 
 naturally pointed to his becoming a leader of some 
 sort ; and he seems to have entered upon his vocation 
 early in life, for, when we first hear of him in his 
 public capacity, he was but eighteen years of age. 
 
 We have read how strictly the islands kept the 
 Sabbath, and Roderick seems to have been the first to 
 break through their customs — by going fishing on 
 that day. As, according to all moral ethics, some- 
 thing dreadful will surely overtake the Sabbath 
 breaker, it is comforting to know that Roderick formed 
 no exception to the rule. One Sunday he committed 
 the heinous and, hitherto, unknown sin of fishing 
 — and, on his return, he declared that, as he was 
 coming home, a ' Man, dressed in a Cloak and Hat/ 
 suddenly appeared in the road before him. Need- 
 less to say, this apparition frightened him, and he fell 
 upon his face before the supernatural being, but the 
 Man desired him not to be afraid, for he was John 
 the Baptist, who had come specially from Heaven, the 
 bearer of good tidings to the inhabitants of St. Kilda, 
 and with a divine commission to instruct Roderick in 
 
S EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 religious matters, which instruction he was to impart 
 to his neighbours for their spiritual welfare. 
 
 .Roderick diffidently objected to thus being made a 
 medium, and alleged his incapacity to receive such 
 revelations and act upon them ; but the pseudo-saint 
 cheered him, and bade him be of good courage, 
 declaring that he would immediately make him fit 
 for his predestined purpose, and, according to the 
 poor fanatic's account, gave him the following in- 
 structions : 
 
 It was to be of primary importance, and as a visible 
 sign of their belief, that his followers should observe 
 Friday as a strict fast — so strict, indeed, that not a 
 particle of food of any description must pass their 
 lips on that day, nor might they even indulge in a 
 pinch of snuff — a small luxury which they dearly 
 loved. He next promulgated the comforting assur- 
 ance that many of the deceased islanders were Saints 
 in Heaven, and there interceded for those living ; 
 that everyone had his own particular advocate, and, 
 on the anniversary of the day peculiar to each Saint, 
 his protege on earth was to make a feast to his neigh- 
 bours of the very best of his substance, such as 
 mutton, fowls, &c, Roderick, of course, to be the 
 chief and honoured guest on the occasion. 
 
 A sheep was to be sacrificed on the threshold of 
 each house by every family (presumably only once 
 a year), and this was to be done in a specially cruel 
 manner, for no knife was to touch it, but its throat 
 was to be hacked with the crooked spades they used 
 in husbandry, whose edges were about half-an-inch 
 thick. This was to be done at night, but no one 
 might partake of the mutton that night under penalty 
 of similarly slaughtering a sheep the next day for 
 
A FORGOTTEN FANATIC. 9 
 
 every person that had eaten of it. It is difficult to see 
 what was his object in these ordinances — except to 
 make sure of good living at the expense of his poor 
 dupes, who, if they turned refractory, and disobeyed 
 his injunctions, were threatened with the most awful 
 Judgment to come. 
 
 That he was keen enough in his own interests is 
 exemplified in one of his promulgations. He picked 
 out a bush upon a rising ground, which he christened 
 1 John the Baptist's Bush,' for there, he declared, the 
 Saint had appeared to him; and this he ordered 
 should be holy ground, which must never be defiled 
 by the tread of sheep or cattle. He also built a wall 
 — certainly not a high one — round it : and should, by 
 chance, any unhappy sheep, in the lightsomeness of 
 its heart, or succumbing to the temptation of the 
 herbage, overleap this wall, and dare to browse upon 
 the sacred soil, it was staightway to be slain — and 
 Roderick and its owner were to eat its carcase. But, 
 as the Saint evidently foresaw that some stiff-necked, 
 and not properly-converted proselyte, might object 
 to this disposition of his personal property and might 
 refuse to have the sheep slaughtered, he commanded 
 that such a recusant should be Anathema, cast out, 
 and excluded from all fellowship, until such time as 
 he saw the error of his ways, recanted, and expiated 
 his sin by permitting the sacrifice. 
 
 For discipline must be maintained in a religious 
 body, as well as in a purely secular society; and 
 Roderick had no intention of having his authority 
 disputed. For minor offences he had a cheerful pen- 
 ance. No matter what was the weather, the sinner 
 must strip, and forthwith walk or jump into the 
 water, there to stand until the divinely-inspired one 
 
10 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 chose to release him, and, if more than one were thus 
 punished at the same time, they were to beguile the 
 moments, and somewhat increase their penance, by 
 pouring cold water upon each other's heads. 
 
 He was for no half-measures. This new Divine 
 revelation must thoroughly supersede and root out 
 the old superstitions ; so he forbade the use of the 
 Lord's Prayer, the Creed, and the Ten Command- 
 ments — the whole formulary of the islanders' simple 
 faith — and substituted forms of his own. His prayers 
 are described as rhapsodical productions, in which, in 
 spite of the abolition of the old form of worship, he 
 introduced the names of God, our Saviour, and the 
 immaculate Virgin, together with words unintelligible 
 either to himself or his hearers, but which he declared 
 to have received direct from the Baptist, and delivered 
 to his hearers, as in duty bound. 
 
 He kept up his connection with St. J ohn, and used 
 to assert that every night, when the people were 
 assembled, he heard a voice, saying, * Come you out, 
 and then he lost all control over himself, and was 
 constrained to go. Then would the Baptist meet 
 him, and instruct him in what he was to say to the 
 people. St. John evidently expected his disciple to 
 exercise all his intelligence, for he would only say his 
 message once, and never could be got to repeat it. 
 On one occasion, Koderick could not understand it, 
 or hardly remember a sentence ; so he naturally in- 
 quired of the Saint how he was to behave. He got 
 no comfort, however, only a brusque, ' Go, you have 
 it/ with which he was fain to be content, and, won- 
 derful to relate, on his return to his flock, he remem- 
 bered every word he had been told, and could retail 
 
A FORGOTTEN FANATIC. 11 
 
 it fluently — but, as a rule, his discourses were discur- 
 sive, and apt to send his auditors to sleep. 
 
 Naturally the women flocked to him, and he took 
 them specially (some said too specially) under his 
 protection. To them he revealed that, if they fol- 
 lowed him faithfully, eternal bliss should be their 
 portion, and that they should go to heaven in glorious 
 state, riding upon milk-white steeds. For them he 
 exercised his poetic talents (for he composed long, 
 rhapsodical rhymes, which he called psalms, and which 
 were sung by his flock), and he taught them a devout 
 hymn, called the ' Virgin Mary's,' which he declared 
 she had sent specially to them, and that it was of 
 such wonderful efficacy, that whoever could repeat it 
 by heart would not die in child-bearing ; but, of course, 
 so valuable a gift could not be imparted gratis, so 
 every scholar was mulcted in a sheep before she was 
 instructed in the potent hymn. 
 
 Yet, as with many another, a woman was the 
 primary cause of his downfall. It was his behaviour 
 to a woman that first opened the eyes of his deluded 
 followers, and showed them that their idol was fallible, 
 and that his feet were < part of iron, and part of clay.' 
 The wife of Macleod's representative found favour in 
 his sight ; but, being a virtuous woman, she told her 
 husband of the Prophet's wicked advances ; and these 
 two laid a little trap, into which the unsuspecting, 
 but naughty, Koderick walked. 
 
 It was very simple : the husband hid himself until 
 he judged proper to appear — confronted the guilty 
 man — spoke burning words of reproof to him — 
 thoroughly disorganised him, and brought him very 
 low — made him beg his pardon, and promise he would 
 
12 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 never so sin again. But although a hollow peace 
 was patched up between them, and the injured hus- 
 band even gave the greatest sign of friendship pos- 
 sible, according to their notions (i.e., taking Roderick's 
 place as sponsor at the baptism of one of his own 
 children), yet the story leaked out. The Prophet's 
 father plainly and openly told him he was a deceiver, 
 and would come to a bad end; and the thinking 
 portion of the community began to have serious 
 doubts of the Divine origin of his mission. 
 
 These doubts were further confirmed by one or 
 two little facts which led the people to somewhat 
 distrust his infallibility, especially in one case in 
 which his cousin-german Lewis was concerned. This 
 man had an ewe which had brought forth three 
 lambs at one time, and these wicked sheep actually 
 browsed upon the sacred bush ! Of course we know 
 the Baptist had decreed their slaughter, and Lewis 
 was promptly reminded of the fact — but he did not 
 see it in that light. His heart was hard, and his 
 sheep were dear to him. He argued that, from his 
 point of view, it was unreasonable to kill so many 
 animals, and inflict such serious damage to their 
 proprietor, for so trivial a fault — and, besides, he 
 would not. Of course there was nothing to be done 
 with such an hardened sinner but to carry out the 
 law, and excommunicate him ; which was accord- 
 ingly done — with the usual result. The poor simple 
 folk, in their faith, looked for a speedy and awful 
 judgment to fall upon Lewis and his sheep. 
 
 • But what gave rise 
 To no little surprise, 
 Nobody seem'd one penny the worse !' 
 
 And then they bethought them that, if it were 
 
A FORGOTTEN FANATIC. 13 
 
 their own case, they might as well treat the matter 
 as Lewis had done — seeing he was none the worse, 
 and four sheep to the good; and so his authority- 
 over them gradually grew laxer and laxer: and, 
 when the steward paid his annual visit in 1697, they 
 denounced Roderick as an impostor, and expressed 
 contrition for their own back-slidings. 
 
 The chaplain who accompanied the steward, and 
 who was sent over from Harris by Macleod, purposely 
 to look into this matter, made the Prophet publicly 
 proclaim himself an impostor, compelled him to 
 commence with his own hands the destruction of 
 the enclosure round the sacred bush, and scatter the 
 stones broadcast — and, finally, the steward, whose 
 word was absolute law to these poor people, took 
 him away, never to return. The poor credulous 
 dupes, on being reproved for so easily complying to 
 this impostor, with one voice answered that what 
 they did was unaccountable ; but, seeing one of 
 their own number and stamp in all respects endued, 
 as they fancied, with a powerful faculty of preaching 
 so fluently and frequently, and pretending to con- 
 verse with John the Baptist, they were induced to 
 believe in his mission from Heaven, and therefore 
 complied with his commands without dispute. 
 
 Of his ultimate fate nothing is known, the last 
 record of him being that, after having been taken 
 to Harris, he was brought before the awful Macleod, 
 to be judged, ' who, being informed of this Fellow's 
 Impostures, did forbid him from that time forward to 
 Preach any more on pain of Death. This was a 
 great mortification, as well as disappointment, to the 
 Impostor, who was possessed with a fancy that 
 Mack-Leod would hear him preach, and expected no 
 
14 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 less than to persuade him to become one of his 
 Proselytes, as he has since confessed.' He was sent 
 to Skye, where he made public recantation of his 
 errors, and confessed in several churches that it was 
 the Devil, and not St. John, with whom he conversed 
 — and, arguing from that fact, he probably was 
 docile, and lived the remainder of his life in Skye — 
 a harmless lunatic. 
 
 In October, 1885, public attention was particularly 
 directed to St. Kilda, and the story cannot be better told than 
 by reproducing some contemporary newspaper paragraphs. 
 
 Morning Post, October 9, 1885. — ' A letter has been 
 received by Principal Rainy, Edinburgh, and has been 
 forwarded to the Home Secretary from St. Kilda. The 
 letter was found on the shore of Harris, having been 
 floated from St. Kilda in a little boat made of a piece of 
 plank. The letter was written by the clergyman of St. 
 Kilda, by direction of the islanders, asking that the Govern- 
 ment should be informed that their corn, barley, and potatoes 
 were destroyed by a great storm, in the hope that Govern- 
 ment would send a supply of corn-seed, barley, and potatoes, 
 as the crop was quite useless/ 
 
 Ibid, October 21, 1885. — c The steamer from Glasgow, 
 carrying supplies to the starving people of St. Kilda, 
 reached the island on Monday, and safely landed the stores. 
 The islanders were in good health, but their crops have 
 been swept away, and, but for the supplies sent by the 
 steamer, they would have been in very perilous straits for 
 food. Intelligence of the distress of St. Kilda was first 
 made known by bottles thrown into the sea/ 
 
 Times, April 8, 1886. — ' A Parliamentary paper has been 
 issued containing a report of Mr. Malcolm McNeill, inspect- 
 ing officer of the Board of Supervision, on the alleged des- 
 titution in the island of St. Kilda, in October, 1885, with 
 
A FORGOTTEN FANATIC. 15 
 
 supplementary reports by Lieutenant Osborne, R.N., com- 
 manding officer, and by the medical officer of H.M.S. 
 Jackal. The report shows that, news from St. Kilda having 
 reached Harris by means of letters enclosed in a small boat 
 a yard long, found on the shore, to the effect that the corn, 
 barley, and potatoes of the inhabitants had been destroyed 
 by a great storm that had passed over the island early in 
 September, and that, in consequence, the crofters of St. 
 Kilda were suffering great privations, a steamer, the 
 Hebridean, was despatched from Glasgow to the island with 
 stores on the 13th of October, and, by arrangement with 
 the Admiralty, H.M.S. Jackal, conveying Mr. McNeill, 
 left Rothesay Bay for St. Kilda on Wednesday, October 21, 
 1885. Mr. McNeill reported that, so far from being des- 
 titute, the inhabitants of* the island were amply, indeed 
 luxuriously, supplied with food, and in possession of sums of 
 money said to average not less than £20 a family. Dr. 
 Acheson, of H.M.S. Jackal, reported that the inhabitants of 
 St. Kilda were well-c!ad and well-fed, being much better 
 off in these respects than the peasants in many other parts 
 of Great Britain.' 
 
 Another newspaper paragraph not only confirms this, 
 but adds to our knowledge of the island and its inhabitants. 
 1 Mr. Malcolm McNeill . . . reported on the 24th of Octo- 
 ber that the population of St. Kilda — seventy-seven souls in 
 all — were amply, " indeed, luxuriously," supplied with food 
 for the winter. The supplies included sheep, fulmar, solan 
 geese, meal, potatoes, milk, fish, tea, and sugar ; and a large 
 sum of money, said to average not less than £20 a family, 
 was known to be hoarded in the island — a large profit 
 being derived from tourists. Mr. McNeill states that a 
 former emigrant, who returned from Australia for a few 
 months in 1884, spread discontent among the people, who 
 now showed a strong desire to emigrate, and in this he 
 suggested that the Government should assist them. Dr. 
 Acheson of the Jackal, reporting on visits paid both then 
 
16 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 and in 1884, notes that the people seemed to be better clad 
 and fed than the peasants of many other parts of Great 
 Britain. He was struck by the comparatively large number 
 of infirm persons — by the large number of women compared 
 with men, and by the comparatively small number of 
 children. The food was abundant, but lacked variety ; 
 was rather indigestible, and was nearly devoid of vegetables 
 for six months each year. He saw no signs of vinegar, 
 pepper, mustard, pickles, or other condiments, but there was 
 a great liking for tobacco and spirits. The diet he pro- 
 nounces quite unfit for children, aged persons, or invalids ; 
 and, to remedy this, he suggests that an endeavour should 
 be made to grow cabbages, turnips, carrots, and other 
 vegetables on the island ; that fowls should be introduced, 
 and that pressed vegetables and lime juice might be issued 
 when no fresh vegetables are procurable. Judging from 
 the amount of clothing worn, the doctor thinks the people 
 are more likely to suffer from excess than from the other ex- 
 treme, for, on September 14th, 1884, with the thermometer 
 sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit in the shade, he found a 
 healthy adult male wearing " a thick tweed waistcoat, with 
 flannel back and sleeves, two thick flannel undervests, tweed 
 trousers, a flannel shirt, flannel drawers, boots, and stock- 
 ings, Tarn o' Shanter cap, and a thick, scarlet worsted 
 muffler around his neck." The furniture he found scanty, 
 and very rough, and the houses very dirty. St. Kilda is not 
 a desirable retreat, for Dr. Acheson reports that at present 
 there are no games nor music in the island, and — strangest 
 fact of all in this official document — " whistling is strictly 
 forbidden." ' 
 
17 
 
 A FASHIONABLE LADY'S LIFE. 
 
 HERE is a little poem by Dean Swift, 
 published by him in Dublin, in 1728, 
 and reprinted in London, in 1729. Its 
 price was only fourpence, and it is 
 called, ' The Journal of a Modern Lady, 
 in a Letter to a Person of Quality.' It is so small, 
 that it is absolutely lost in the Dean's voluminous 
 works, yet it is very amusing, and, as far as I can 
 judge (having made an especial study of the Social 
 Life of the Eighteenth Century), it is not at all 
 exaggerated ; and for this reason I have ventured 
 to reproduce it. It is borne out in similar descrip- 
 tions both in the early and latter portions of the 
 century; as, for instance, in 'The English Lady's 
 Catechism,' 1703, of which the following is a portion : 
 
 HOW DO YOU EMPLOY YOUR TIME NOW 1 
 
 «I lie in Bed till Noon, dress all the Afternoon, 
 Dine in the Evening, and Play at Cards till Midnight.' 
 ' How do you spend the Sabbath V 
 'In Chit-Chat.' 
 'What do you talk of?' 
 1 New Fashions and New Plays.' 
 * How often do you go to Church?' 
 
 C 
 
18 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 ' Twice a year or oftener, according as my Husband 
 gives me new Cloaths.' 
 
 ' Why do you go to Church when you have new 
 Cloaths V 
 
 ' To see other People's Finery, and to show my 
 own, and to laugh at those scurvy, out-of-fashion 
 Creatures that come there for Devotion.' 
 
 ' Pray, Madam, what Books do you read V 
 
 ' 1 read lewd Plays and winning Romances.' 
 
 'Who is it you love?' 
 
 « Myself.' 
 
 'What! nobody else?' 
 
 4 My Page, my Monkey, and my Lap Dog.' 
 
 4 Why do you love them V 
 
 1 Why, because I am an English lady, and they 
 are Foreign Creatures: my Page from Genoa, my 
 Monkey from the East Indies, and my Lap Dog from 
 Vigo.' 
 
 ' Would they not have pleased you as well if they 
 had been English?' 
 
 'No, for I hate everything that Old England brings 
 forth, except it be the temper of an English Husband, 
 and the liberty of an English Wife. I love the French 
 Bread, French Wines, French Sauces, and a French 
 Cook ; in short, I have all about me French or Foreign, 
 from my Waiting Woman to my Parrot.' 
 
 ' How do you pay your debts V 
 
 ' Some with money, and some with fair promises. 
 I seldom pay anybody's bills, but run more into their 
 debt. I give poor Tradesmen ill words, and the rich 
 I treat civilly, in hopes to get further in their debt.' 
 
 Addison, in the Spectator (No. 323, March 11th, 
 1712), gives Clarinda's Journal for a week, from 
 which I will only extract one day as a sample. 
 
A FASHIONABLE LADYS LIFE. 19 
 
 'Wednesday. From Eight to Ten. Drank two 
 Dishes of Chocolate in Bed, and fell asleep after 'em. 
 
 * From Ten to Eleven. Eat a Slice of Bread and 
 Butter, drank a Dish of Bohea, read the Spectator. 
 
 'From Eleven to One. At my Toilet, try'd a new- 
 Head. 1 Gave orders for Veney 2 to be combed and 
 washed. Mem. I look best in Blue. 
 
 * From One till Half an Hour after Two. Drove to 
 the Change. Cheapened a couple of Fans. 
 
 ' Till Four. At Dinner. Mem. Mr. Frost passed 
 by in his new Liveries. 
 
 * From Four to Six. Dressed, paid a visit to old 
 Lady Blithe and her Sister, having heard they were 
 gone out of Town that Day. - 
 
 'From Six to Eleven. At Basset. 3 Mem. Never 
 sit again upon the Ace of Diamond/ 
 
 Gambling was one of the curses of the Eighteenth 
 Century. From Royalty downwards, all played 
 Cards — the men, perhaps, preferred dice, and ' Cast- 
 ing a Main ' — but the women were inveterate card- 
 players, until, in the latter part of the century, it 
 became a national scandal, owing to the number of 
 ladies who, from their social position, should have 
 acted better, who kept Faro-tables, and to whom 
 the nickname of Faro's Daughters was applied. There 
 were Ladies Buckinghamshire and Archer, Mrs. Con- 
 cannon, Mrs. Hobart, Mrs. Sturt, and others, whose 
 houses were neither more nor less than gaming- 
 houses. The evil was so great, that Lord Kenyon, 
 
 1 Head-dress. 2 Venus, her lap dog. 
 
 3 A game at cards introduced into France by Signor Justiniani, 
 
 Ambassador of Venice in 1674. The players are the dealer or 
 
 banker, his assistant, who looks after the losing cards — a croupier, 
 
 in fact — and the punters, or anyone who plays against the banker. 
 
 o2 
 
20 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 in delivering judgment in a trial to recover £15 
 won at card-playing, said that the higher classes set 
 a bad example in this matter to the lower, and, he 
 added, ' They think they are too great for the law ; 
 I wish they conld be punished. If any prosecutions 
 of this kind are fairly brought before me, and the 
 parties are justly convicted, whatever be their rank 
 or station in the country — though they be the first 
 ladies in the land — they shall certainly exhibit them- 
 selves in the pillory .' 
 
 The caricaturists got hold of his Lordship's speech, 
 and depicted Lady Archer and 'others in the pillory, 
 and Lady Buckinghamshire being whipped at a 
 cart's-tail by Lord Kenyon. With the century this 
 kind of play died out ; but some mention of it was 
 necessary in order to show that Swift's description 
 of ladies gambling was not exaggerated. 
 
 THE JOURNAL OF A MODERN LADY. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 It was a most unfriendly Part 
 In you who ought to know my Heart ; 
 And well acquainted with my Zeal 
 For all the Females' Common-weal. 
 How cou'd it come into your Mind 
 To pitch on me of all Mankind, 
 Against the Sex to write a Satire, 
 And brand me for a Woman-Hater ? 
 On me, who think them all so fair, 
 They rival Venus to a Hair : 
 Their Virtues never ceas'd to sing, 
 Since first I learn'd to tune a String. 
 Methinks I hear the Ladies cry, 
 Will he his Character belye ? 
 Must never our Misfortunes end ? 
 
A FASHIONABLE LADY'S LIFE. 21 
 
 And have we lost our only Friend ? 
 Ah ! lovely Nymph, remove your Fears, 
 No more let fall those precious Tears, 
 Sooner shall, etc. 
 
 (Here several verses are omitted.) 
 The Hound be hunted by the Hare, 
 Than I turn Rebel to the Fair. 
 
 'Twas you engaged me first to write, 
 Then gave the Subject out of Spite. 
 The Journal of a Modern Dame, 
 Is by my Promise what you claim ; 
 My Word is past, I must submit, 
 And yet perhaps you may be bit. 
 I but transcribe, for not a Line 
 Of all the Satire shall be mine. 
 Compell'd by you to tag in Rhimes 
 The common Slanders of the Times, 
 Of modern Times, the Guilt is yours 
 And me my Innocence secures : 
 Unwilling Muse, begin thy Lay, 
 The Annals of a Female Day. 
 
 By Nature turn'd to play the Rake well, 
 As we shall shew you in the Sequel ; 
 The modern Dame is wak'd by Noon, 
 Some authors say not quite so soon ; 
 Because, though sore against her Will, 
 She sat all Night up at Quadrill.! 
 
 I To understand the numerous allusions to the game of cards called 
 Quadrill, it is necessary that the principles of the game should be given. 
 It was played by four persons, each having ten cards dealt to them. 
 
 The general laws of this game are, 1. It is not permitted to deal 
 the cards otherwise than four by three, the dealer being at liberty to 
 begin with which of those numbers he pleases. 2. If he who plays 
 either sans prendre, or calling a king, names a trump of a different 
 suit from that his game is in, or names two several suits, that which 
 he first named must be the trump. 3. He who plays must name the 
 
22 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 She stretches, gapes, unglues her Eyes, 
 
 And asks if it be time to rise. 
 
 Of Head-ach and the Spleen complains ; 
 
 tramp by its proper name, as he likewise must the king he calls. 4. 
 He who has said 'I pass,' must not be again admitted to play, except 
 he plays by force, upon account of his having Spadille. 5. He who 
 has asked the question, and has leave given him to play, is obliged to 
 do it: but he must not play sans prendre except he is forced to do it. 
 6. He who has the four kings may call the queen of either of his 
 kings. 7. Neither the king nor queen of the suit which is trumps 
 must be called. 8. He who has one or several kings may call any king 
 he has in his hand ; in such case, if ho wins, he alone must make six 
 tricks ; if he wins, it is all his own, and if he loses, he pays all by 
 himself. 9. Everyone ought to play in his turn, but for having done 
 otherwise, no one must be beasted. 10. He, however, whose turn is 
 not to play, having in his hand the king the ombre has called, and who 
 shall tramp about with either spadille, manille, or basto, or shall even 
 play down the king that was called, to give notice of his being the 
 friend, must not pretend to undertake the vole ; nay, he must be con- 
 demned to be beasted if it appears that he did it with any fraudulent 
 design. 11. He who has drawn a card from his game, and presented 
 it openly in order to play it, is obliged so to do, if his retaining it may 
 be either prejudicial to his game, or give any information to his friend, 
 especially if the card is a matadore ; but he who plays sans prendre, or 
 calls upon his own king, is not subject to this law. 12. None ought to 
 look upon the tricks, nor to count aloud what has been played, except 
 when it is his turn to play, but to let everyone reckon for himself. 
 13. He who, instead of turning up the tricks before any one of his 
 players, shall turn up and discover his game, must be equally beasted 
 with him whose cards he has so discovered, the one paying one half, and 
 the other the like. 14. He who renounces must be beasted, as many 
 times as he has so done, but, if the cards are mixed, he is to pay but 
 one beast. 15. If the renounce prejudices the game, and the deal is 
 not played out, everyone may take up his cards, beginning at the trick 
 where the renounce was made, and play them over again. 16. He 
 who shows the game before the deal is out must be beasted, except 
 he plays sans prendre. 17. None of the three matadores can be com- 
 manded down by an inferior trump. 18. If he who plays sans prendre 
 with the matadores in his hand, demands only one of them, he must 
 receive only that he mentioned. 19. He who, instead of sans prendre t 
 shall demand matadores, not having them, or he who shall demand sans 
 prendres instead of matadores, cannot compel the players to pay him 
 
A FASHIONABLE LADTS LIFE. 23 
 
 And then to cool her heated Brains, 
 
 Her Night-gown! and her Slippers brought her, 
 
 Takes a large Dram of Citron Water. 
 
 Then to her Glass ; and, Betty, pray 
 
 Don't I look frightfully to-Day ? 
 
 But, was it not confounded hard ? 
 
 Well, if I ever touch a Card ; 
 
 Four Mattadores, and lose Codill ; 
 
 Depend upon't I never will ! 
 
 But run to Tom, and bid him fix 
 
 The Ladies here to-Night by Six. 
 
 Madam, the Goldsmith waits below, 
 
 He says his Business is to know 
 
 If you'll redeem the Silver Cup 
 
 You pawn'd to him. First, shew him up. 
 
 Your Dressing Plate he'll be content 
 
 To take for Interest Cent, per Cent. 
 
 And, Madam, there's my Lady Spade 
 
 Hath sent thi3 Letter by her Maid. 
 
 Well, I remember what she won ; 
 
 And hath she sent so soon to dun ? 
 
 Here, carry down those ten Pistoles 
 
 My Husband left to pay for Coals : 
 
 I thank my Stars they are all light ; 
 
 And I may have Eevenge to-Night. 
 
 Now, loitering o'er her Tea and Cream, 
 
 She enters on her usual Theme ; 
 
 ■what is really his due. 20. Matadores are only paid when they are in 
 the hands of the ombre, or of the king his ally, whether all in one hand, 
 or separately in both. 21. He who undertakes the vole, and does not 
 make it, must pay as much as he would have received had he won it. 
 22. He who plays and does not make three tricks is to be beasted 
 alone, and must pay all that is to be paid ; and, if he makes no tricks 
 at all, he must also pay to his two adversaries the vole, but not to his 
 friend.'— The Oxford Encyclopedia, 1828. 
 
 1 Dressing-gown. 
 
24 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Her last Night's ill Success repeats, 
 Calls Lady Spade a hundred Cheats. 
 She slipt Spadillo in her Breast, 
 Then thought to turn it to a Jest. 
 There's Mrs. Cut and she combine, 
 And to each other give the Sign. 
 Through ev'ry Game pursues her Tale, 
 Like Hunters o'er their Evening Ale. 
 
 Now to another Scene give Place, 
 Enter the Folks with Silks and Lace ; 
 Fresh Matter for a World of Chat, 
 Eight Indian this, right Macklin that ; 
 Observe this Pattern ; there's a Stuff, 
 I can have Customers enough. 
 Dear Madam, you are grown so hard, 
 This Lace is worth twelve Pounds a Yard ; 
 Madam, if there be Truth in Man, 
 I never sold so cheap a Fan. 
 
 This Business of Importance o'er, 
 And Madam, almost dress' d by Four ; 
 The Footman, in his usual Phrase, 
 Comes up with : Madam, Dinner stays ; 
 She answers in her usual Style, 
 The Cook must keep it back a while ; 
 I never can have time to Dress, 
 No Woman breathing takes up less ; 
 I'm hurried so, it makes me sick, 
 I wish the dinner at Old Nick. 
 At Table now she acts her part, 
 Has all the Dinner Cant by Heart : 
 I thought we were to Dine alone, 
 My Dear, for sure if I had known 
 This Company would come to-Day, 
 But really 'tis my Spouse's Way ; 
 He's so unkind, he never sends 
 To tell, when he invites his Friends : 
 
A FASHIONABLE LADY'S LIFE. 
 
 I wish ye may but have enough ; 
 And while, with all this paultry Stuff, 
 She sits tormenting every Guest, 
 Nor gives her Tongue one Moment's Rest, 
 In Phrases batter'd stale and trite, 
 Which modern Ladies call polite ; 
 You see the Booby Husband sit 
 In Admiration at her Wit. 
 
 But let me now a while Survey 
 Our Madam o'er her Ev'ning Tea ; 
 Surrounded with her Noisy Clans 
 Of Prudes, Coquets, and Harridans ; 
 When frighted at the clamorous Crew, 
 Away the God of Silence flew ; 
 And fair Discretion left the Place, 
 And Modesty with blushing Face ; 
 Now enters over- weening Pride, 
 And Scandal ever gaping wide, 
 Hypocrisy with Frown severe, 
 Scurrility with gibing Air ; 
 Rude Laughter seeming like to burst, 
 And Malice always judging worst ; 
 And Vanity with Pocket- Glass, 
 And Impudence, with Front of Brass ; 
 And studied Affectation came, 
 Each Limb and Feature out of Frame ; 
 While Ignorance, with Brain of Lead, 
 Flew hov'ring o'er each Female Head. 
 
 Why should I ask of thee, my Muse, 
 An Hundred Tongues, as Poets use, 
 When, to give ev'ry Dame her due, 
 An Hundred Thousand were too few ! 
 Or how should I, alas ! relate, 
 The Sum of all their Senseless Prate, 
 Their Inuendo's, Hints, and Slanders, 
 Their Meanings lewd, and double Entanders. 1 
 1 Entendres. 
 
26 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Now comes the general Scandal Charge, 
 What some invent, the rest enlarge ; 
 And, Madam, if it be a Lye, 
 You have the tale as cheap as I : 
 I must conceal my Author's Name, 
 But now 'tis known to common Fame. 
 
 Say, foolish Females, Old and Blind, 
 Say, by what fatal Turn of Mind, 
 Are you on Vices most severe, 
 Wherein yourselves have greatest Share 1 
 Thus every Fool herself deludes, 
 The Prudes condemn the absent Prudes. 
 Mopsa who stinks her Spouse to Death, 
 Accuses Chloe's tainted Breath : 
 Hircina, rank with Sweat, presumes 
 To censure Phillis for Perfumes : 
 While crooked Cynthia swearing, says, 
 That Florimel wears Iron Stays. 
 Chloe's of ev'ry Coxcomb jealous, 
 Admires 1 how Girls can talk with Fellows, 
 And, full of Indignation, frets 
 That Women should be such Coquets. 
 Tris, for Scandal most notorious, 
 Cries, Lord, the world is so censorious ; 
 And Pufa, with her Combs of Lead, 2 
 Whispers that Sappho's Hair is Red. 
 Aura, whose Tongue you hear a Mile hence, 
 Talks half a day in Praise of Silence : 
 And Silvia, full of inward Guilt, 
 Calls Amoret an arrant Jilt. 
 
 Now Voices over Voices rise ; 
 While each to be the loudest vies, 
 They contradict, affirm, dispute, 
 No single Tongue one Moment mute ; 
 
 i "Wonders. 
 2 These leaden combs were used for darkening the hair. 
 
A FASHIONABLE LADY'S LIFE. 2? 
 
 All mad to speak, and none to hearken, 
 They set the very Lap-Dog barking ; 
 Their Chattering makes a louder Din 
 Than Fish- Wives o'er a Cup of Gin ; 
 Not School-boys at a Barring-out, 
 Raised ever such incessant Rout : 
 The Shumbling (sic) Particles of Matter 
 In Chaos make not such a Clatter ; 
 Far less the Rabble roar and rail, 
 When Drunk with sour Election Ale. 
 
 Nor do they trust their Tongue alone, 
 To speak a Language of their own ; 
 Can read a Nod, a Shrug, a Look ; 
 Far better than a printed Book ; 
 Convey a Libel in a Frown, 
 And wink a Reputation down ; 
 Or, by the tossing of the Fan, 
 Describe the Lady and the Man. 
 
 But, see the Female Club disbands, 
 Each, twenty Visits on her Hands : 
 Now, all alone, poor Madam sits, 
 In Vapours and Hysterick Fits ; 
 And was not Tom this Morning sent ? 
 I'd lay my Life he never went : 
 Past Six, and not a living Soul ! 
 I might by this have won a Vole. 
 A dreadful Interval of Spleen ! 
 How shall we pass the Time between ? 
 Here, Betty, let me take my Drops, 
 And feel my Pulse, I know it stops : 
 This Head of mine, Lord, how it Swims ! 
 And such a Pain in all my Limbs ! 
 Dear Madam, try to take a Nap : 
 But now they hear a Foot-Man's Rap ; 
 Go, run, and light the Ladies up ; 
 It must be One before we Sup. 
 
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 The Table, Cards, and Counters set, 
 And all the Gamester Ladies met, 
 Her Spleen and Fits recover'd quite, 
 Our Madam can sit up all Night ; 
 Whoever comes, I'm not within, 
 Quadrill the Word, and so begin. 
 
 How can the Muse her Aid impart, 
 Unskill'd in all the Terms of Art? 
 Or, in harmonious Numbers, put 
 The Deal, the Shuffle, and the Cut? 
 The Superfluous Whims relate, 
 That fill a Female Gamester's Pate : 
 What Agony of Soul she feels 
 To see a Knave's inverted Heels ; 
 She draws up Card by Card, to find 
 Good Fortune peeping from behind ; 
 With panting Heart and earnest Eyes, 
 In hope to see Spadillo rise ; 
 In vain, alas ! her Hope is fed, 
 She draws an Ace, and sees it red. 
 In ready Counters never pays, 
 But pawns her Snuff-Box, Rings, and Keys. 
 Ever with some new Fancy struck, 
 Tries twenty Charms to mend her Luck. 
 This Morning when the Parson came, 
 I said I could not win a Game. 
 This odious Chair, how came I stuck in't ? 
 I think I've never had good Luck in't. 
 I'm so uneasy in my Stays : 
 Your Fan, a Moment, if you please. 
 Stand further, Girl, or get you gone, 
 I always lose when you look on. 
 Lord ! Madam, you have lost Codill ; 
 I never saw you play so ill. 
 Nay, Madam, give me leave to say 
 'Twas you that threw the game away ; 
 
A FASHIONABLE LADYS LIFE. 29 
 
 When Lady Tricksy play'd a Four, 
 
 You took it with a Matadore ; 
 
 I saw you touch your Wedding-Ring 
 
 Before my Lady call'd a King. 
 
 You spoke a Word began with H, 
 
 And I know whom you mean to teach, 
 
 Because you held the King of Hearts ; 
 
 Fie, Madam, leave these little Arts. 
 
 That's not so bad as one that rubs 
 
 Her Chair to call the King of Clubs, 
 
 And makes her Partner understand 
 
 A Matadore is in her Hand. 
 
 Madam, you have no Cause to flounce, 
 
 I swear I saw you twice renounce. 
 
 And truly, Madam, I know when 
 
 Instead of Five you scor'd me Ten. 
 
 Spadillo here has got a Mark, 
 
 A Child may know it in the Dark : 
 
 I Guess the Hand, it seldom fails, 
 
 I wish some Folks would pare their Nails. 
 
 While thus they rail, and scold, and storm, 
 It passes but for common Form ; 
 Are conscious that they all speak true, 
 
 And give each other but their due ; 
 
 It never interrupts the Game, 
 
 Or makes 'em sensible of Shame. 
 Time too precious now to waste, 
 
 The Supper gobbled up in haste : 
 
 Again a-fresh to Cards they run, 
 
 As if they had but just begun ; 
 
 Yet shall I not again repeat 
 
 How oft they Squabble, Snarl, and Cheat : 
 
 At last they hear the Watchman Knock, 
 
 A frosty Moim . . . Past Four a-cloch. 
 
 The Chair-men are not to be found, 
 
 Come, let us play the t'other Round. 
 
30 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Now all in haste they huddle on 
 Their Hoods, their Cloaks, and get them gone ; 
 But first, the Winner must invite 
 The Company to-morrow Night. 
 
 Unlucky Madam left in Tears, 
 Who now again Quadrill forswears, 
 With empty Purse and aching Head, 
 Steals to her sleeping Spouse to Bed. 
 
31 
 
 GEORGE BARRINGTON. 
 
 HERE is much and curious food for re- 
 flection, in the tendency that mankind 
 has ever shown to sympathise with the 
 daring and ingenious depredators who 
 relieve the rich of their superfluity, 
 which may possibly be owing to the romantic adven- 
 tures and hair-breadth escapes which the robbers, in 
 their career, have undergone. But, be the cause what 
 it may, it is certain that the populace of all nations 
 view with admiration great and successful thieves : 
 for instance, what greater popular hero, and one that 
 has been popular for centuries, could be found than 
 Robin Hood? 
 
 Almost every country in Europe has its traditional 
 thief, whose exploits are recorded both in prose and 
 poetry. In England, Claude Duval, Captain Hind, 
 Dick Turpin, Jonathan Wild, and Jack Sheppard 
 have each in their turn occupied a prominent place 
 in the annals of crime ; whilst in France, amongst the 
 light-fingered heroes that have, from time to time, 
 extorted respect from the multitude, Cartouche and 
 Vidocq take first rank. Germany is proud of its 
 Schinderhannes, the Robber of the Rhine, the stories 
 
32 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 of whose generosity and courage still render his 
 memory a favourite on the banks of that river, the 
 travellers on which he so long kept in awe. In Italy 
 and Spain, those homes of brigands and banditti, the 
 inhabitants have ever-ready sympathy for the men 
 whose names and exploits are as familiar among them 
 as ' household words/ 
 
 Cartouche, however, is the only rival to Barrington 
 in their particular line, and Barrington, certainly, was 
 no mere common pick-pocket, only fit to figure in 
 the 'Newgate Calendar/ but he possessed talents which, 
 had they been properly directed on his first setting 
 out in life, might have enabled him to have played a 
 distinguished part either in literature or in business. 
 But, unfortunately, very early in his youth, poverty 
 led him to adopt theft as his professed vocation; 
 and, by his ingenuity and constant practice, he con- 
 trived to render himself so expert, as almost to have 
 conducted his depredations on systematic rules, and 1 
 elevated his crime into a ' high art/ Barrington, 
 too, by his winning manners, gentlemanly address, 
 and the fair education he contrived to pick up, was a 
 man eminently fitted (if such an expression may be 
 allowed) for his profession ! his personal appearance 
 was almost sufficient to disarm suspicion, and this, in 
 all probability, contributed greatly to the success 
 which he met with in his career. 
 
 George Barrington, or Waldron (for it is not 
 known which was his right name), was born on the 
 14th of May, 1755, at the village of Maynooth, county 
 Kildare, in Ireland, now famous for the Royal College 
 of St. Patrick, which is there situated. His reputed 
 father was Henry Waldron, who was a working 
 silversmith, and his mother, whose maiden name was 
 
GEORGE BARPJNGTON. S3 
 
 Naish, was a dressmaker, or mantua-maker, as it was 
 then called (also occasionally acting as midwife), in 
 the same village ; but, whether they had ever been 
 legally united, is a matter open to doubt. 
 
 To have their parentage disputed is a fate which 
 the great ones of the earth have frequently to 
 undergo, and George Barrington, or Waldron, is an 
 instance of this, for more than one of his historians 
 assert that he was the son of a Captain Barrington, 
 an officer in a marching regiment quartered at Rush, 
 and the date of his birth is given as 1758 ; but the 
 most trustworthy evidence places it on record as 
 above stated. 
 
 His parents' characters stood high among their 
 neighbours for integrity and industry, but they were, 
 unfortunately, always behindhand with the world, 
 and never able to extricate themselves from the state 
 of abject poverty in which they were sunk, in con- 
 sequence of unsuccessful litigation with a wealthy 
 relation. This want of means prevented them from 
 giving George any education until he was seven 
 years of age, when he was sent to the village school, 
 and there was taught to read and write. A benevo- 
 lent surgeon in the neighbourhood afterwards in- 
 structed him in arithmetic, geography, and grammar ; 
 but, if the anecdote related of him is true, he repaid 
 the kindness by the blackest ingratitude in stealing 
 some coins from his benefactor's daughter. 
 
 Young Waldron was lucky enough to attract the 
 notice of the Rev. Dr. Westropp, a dignitary of the 
 Church of Ireland, who placed him, when he was 
 sixteen years of age, at a grammar-school in Dublin, 
 and this patron proposed that he should fit himself 
 for the university. But fate had decreed otherwise 
 
 D 
 
M EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 and he enjoyed the benefits of this gentleman's 
 kindness but a short time, for, in a moment of passion, 
 when quarrelling with another boy, he stabbed his 
 antagonist with a pen-knife, wounding him severely. 
 Instead of making the matter one for legal investi- 
 gation, the boy received a thorough good flogging, 
 a degradation he could by no means forgive, and he 
 resolved to run away from school, and leave family, 
 friends, and all his fair prospects behind him. But, 
 previous to carrying his plan of escape into action, 
 he found means to appropriate ten or twelve guineas 
 belonging to the master of the school, and a gold 
 repeating-watch, which was the property of his 
 master's sister. Not content with this booty, he 
 took a few shirts and pairs of stockings, and safely 
 effected his retreat, one still night in 1771, starting 
 off for Drogheda. 
 
 There happened to be staying at the obscure inn 
 at which he put up, on his arrival at Drogheda, a 
 set of strolling players, whose manager was one 
 John Price, who had once been a lawyer's clerk, and 
 had been convicted of some fraud at the Old Bailey. 
 He soon wormed the boy's whole story out of him, 
 and persuaded him to join the theatrical company, 
 which he did, and he applied himself to study so 
 diligently that he was cast for the part, and played, 
 four days after his enrolment, Jaffier in Ot way's 
 tragedy of ' Venice Preserved/ in a barn in the 
 suburbs of Drogheda. Both he and Price were of 
 opinion that it would be dangerous for him to remain 
 so near the scene of his late depredations, but were 
 unable to move for want of money. To overcome 
 this difficulty, Waldron, who had assumed the name 
 of Barrington, gave Price the gold repeater he had 
 
GEORGE BARRINGTON. 35 
 
 stolen, which was sold for the benefit of the company, 
 and they set out for Londonderry. 
 
 But it was found that the expenses of travelling 
 for so numerous a body, with their impedimenta, were 
 too great to be balanced by the receipts of rural 
 audiences, and, on their arrival at Londonderry, their 
 finances were found to be at a very low ebb indeed. 
 Under these circumstances, Price insinuated that 
 Barrington, with his good address and appearance, 
 could easily introduce himself to the chief places of 
 resort in the city, and, by picking pockets, might 
 refill their empty exchequer. This scheme he at 
 once put into practice, with such success that, at the 
 close of the evening, he was the possessor of about 
 forty guineas in cash, and one hundred and fifty 
 pounds in Irish bank-notes. 
 
 The picking of pockets being a crime almost 
 unknown in that part of Ireland, the town took the 
 alarm, and a great stir was made over the matter ; 
 but it being fair- time, and many strangers in the 
 city, neither Barrington nor Price were suspected ; 
 still they thought it but prudent to leave as soon as 
 they could with propriety, and, after playing a few 
 more nights, they moved to Ballyshannon. For 
 some time he continued this vagabond life, travelling 
 about the North of Ireland, acting every Tuesday 
 and Saturday, and picking pockets every day in the 
 week, a business which he found more lucrative and 
 entertaining than that of the theatre, where his fame 
 was by no means equal to the expectation he had 
 raised. 
 
 At Cork, Price and he came to the conclusion 
 never to think any more of the stage, a resolution 
 which was the more easily executed, as the company 
 
 d2 
 
36 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 to which they originally belonged was now broken 
 up and dispersed. It was settled between them that 
 Price should pass for Barrington's servant, and that 
 Barrington should act the part of a young gentleman 
 of large fortune and of noble family, who was not 
 yet quite of age, travelling for his amusement. They 
 carried out their scheme well, purchasing horses and 
 dressing up to their parts, and, during the summer 
 and autumn of 1772, they visited all the race-courses 
 in the South of Ireland, making a remarkably suc- 
 cessful campaign. Pocket-picking was a novel ex- 
 perience to the Irish gentry, and their unsuspicious 
 ways made them an easy prey to Barrington's skill 
 and nimble fingers ; so much so that when, at the 
 setting-in of winter, they returned to Cork, they 
 found themselves in possession of a large sum of 
 money (over £1,000), having been fortunate enough 
 to have escaped detection or even suspicion. 
 
 At length their partnership was rudely dissolved, 
 as, at the close of winter, Price was detected in the 
 very act of picking a gentleman's pocket at Cork, 
 and for this offence he was sentenced to be trans- 
 ported to America (as was customary then) for seven 
 years. Barrington immediately converted all his 
 moveable property into cash, and beat a precipitate 
 flight to Dublin, where, for a time, he lived a very 
 private and retired life, only stealing out occasionally 
 of a dark night to visit some gaming-house, where 
 he might pick up a few guineas, or a watch, etc., a 
 mode of life which was by no means congenial to 
 his ambitious nature, and he again frequented the 
 race-courses. He met with his first check at Carlow, 
 where he was detected in picking a nobleman's 
 pocket. It was a clear case ; the stolen property was 
 
GEORGE BARRINGTON. 37 
 
 found on his person, and immediately restored to its 
 owner, who did not prosecute, preferring to let the 
 rascal receive the treatment known as ' the discipline 
 of the course,' a punishment very similar to that 
 meted out to ' Welchers ' at the present day. But 
 Ireland was getting too warm for him, and, having 
 realised his property, he set sail for London, where 
 he arrived in the summer of 1773, a remarkably 
 precocious youth of eighteen. 
 
 On his voyage across the Channel, he became 
 acquainted with several persons of respectability, 
 with one of whom he travelled post to London, 
 having gulled him with a specious tale about his 
 family and fortune ; and, having gained his con- 
 fidence, he procured by his means introductions into 
 the politest circles, from whom, for a long time, he 
 extracted abundant plunder. But, in order to do 
 this, he had to dress well, and live extravagantly, 
 so that he very soon had to cast about for the means 
 wherewith to supply his needs. Among the earliest 
 visits he paid, after his arrival in London, and in 
 his friend's company, was, of course, Eanelagh, where 
 he found two of his acquaintance on the Irish packet 
 talking to the Duke of Leinster. Bowing to them, 
 and stationing himself near them, he soon eased the 
 duke of above eighty pounds, a baronet of five-and- 
 thirty guineas, and one of the ladies of her watch ; 
 and, with this plunder, he rejoined his party as if 
 nothing had happened out of the ordinary course 
 of things. 
 
 But his proceedings had been watched by another 
 member of the thieving fraternity, who was in the 
 gardens, and who took a speedy opportunity of 
 letting Barrington know that he had witnessed his 
 
38 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 crime, and threatened to denounce him to the plun- 
 dered parties, unless a division of the spoil was made 
 between them. His manner being very impressive, 
 left Barrington no alternative but to comply; and 
 the lady's watch and chain, with a ten-pound note, 
 fell to his share. The two supped together, and it 
 ended with their entering into a mutual alliance, 
 which, for the time, suited Barrington well, as his 
 companion knew town much better than he did, 
 and was especially well-informed in the knowledge 
 of those places where the plunder could be disposed 
 of: but this partnership only continued for a short 
 time, in consequence of their quarrels, there being 
 nothing in common to bind these two rogues together 
 save their crime. 
 
 In the course of his depredations, he visited Brighton, 
 or, as it was then called, Brighthelmstone, which was 
 beginning to be the resort of the wealthier classes, 
 but, as yet, had not dreamed of the rise it was to 
 take under George the Magnificent — and no concep- 
 tion could have been formed of the present ' London- 
 on-the-Sea.' Here, thanks to his pleasant manners 
 and address, as well as to the company he frequented, 
 he became acquainted, and intimate, with the Duke 
 of Ancaster, Lord Ferrers, Lord Lyttleton, and many 
 other noblemen, who all considered him as a man of 
 genius and ability (which he certainly was), and were 
 under the impression that he was a gentleman of 
 fortune and family. 
 
 His manners were good, and he had a pleasant wit 
 — so that it is not difficult to imagine that his society 
 was welcome. As a specimen of his wit, I may relate 
 an anecdote told of him when on a visit to Chichester 
 from Brighton. In company of several noblemen, 
 
GEORGE BARRINGTON. 89 
 
 he was shown the curiosities and notable things in 
 the town and cathedral. In the latter, their attention 
 was directed to a family vault for the interment of 
 the Dukes of Richmond, which had been erected by 
 the late duke, and which was inscribed 'Domus 
 ultima* (the last house). On this inscription he is 
 said to have written the following epigram : 
 
 1 Did he, who thus inscribed this wall, 
 Not read y or not believe, St. Paul ? 
 Who says, "There is, where e'er it stands, 
 Another house, not made with hands ;" 
 Or shall we gather, from the words, 
 That House is not a House of Lords.' 
 
 After living at the expense of the pockets of his 
 new-found friends as long as he deemed it prudent, 
 he returned to London, and began a dissolute and 
 profligate career; but, though his time was pretty 
 well employed between his infamous occupation and 
 his amusements, he yet found opportunity for intervals 
 of study and literary pursuits, and composed several 
 odes and poems, which are said to have been not 
 devoid of merit. 
 
 As before stated, he broke with his partner, who 
 retired to a monastery, where, in all probability, he 
 ended his days in penitence and peace. But, in the 
 winter of 1775, Barrington became acquainted with 
 one Lowe, whom he first employed in the useful 
 capacity of receiver of stolen goods, and afterwards 
 went into partnership with. This Lowe was a singu- 
 lar character. Originally he had been a livery -servant, 
 and after that he kept a public-house for some 
 time, when, having saved some money, he turned 
 usurer or money-lender, in which business he ac- 
 cumulated a small fortune, when he assumed the 
 
40 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 character of a gentleman, and lived in a genteel 
 house near Bloomsbury Square, then a fashionable 
 neighbourhood. Here he passed for a very charit- 
 able and benevolent person, and was appointed 
 treasurer or manager of a new hospital for the 
 blind in Kentish Town, in which capacity, it is said, 
 he contrived to become possessed of some five thou- 
 sand pounds, when he set fire to the institution. 
 Being suspected thereof, he was apprehended at 
 Liverpool, in 1779, when he committed suicide by 
 taking poison, and was buried at a cross-road, in the 
 neighbourhood of Prescott in Lancashire. 
 
 On forming his partnership with Lowe, it was 
 resolved on between them that Barrington should 
 repair to Court on the Queen's birthday, disguised 
 as a clergyman, and there endeavour not only to 
 pick the pockets of the company, but, what was a 
 far bolder and more novel attempt, to cut off the 
 diamond stars of the Knights of the Garter, Bath, 
 or Thistle, who on such days generally wore the 
 ribands of their respective orders over their coats. 
 In this enterprise he succeeded beyond the most san- 
 guine expectations that could have been formed, either 
 by himself or his partner ; for he managed to take 
 a diamond star from a nobleman, and to get away 
 from St. James's unsuspected. But this prize was 
 too valuable to dispose of in England, and it is said 
 to have been sold to a Dutch Jew, who came over 
 from Holland twice a year on purpose to buy stolen 
 goods, for eight hundred pounds. This haul only 
 whetted his appetite for yet more profitable plunder, 
 and a chance of his skill shortly presented itself. 
 
 In the course of the winter of 1775, Prince Orloff, 
 a Russian nobleman of the first rank and consequence, 
 
GEORGE BARK1NGT0N. 41 
 
 visited England. The splendour in which he lived, 
 and the stories of his immense wealth, were frequent- 
 ly noticed and commented on in the public prints, 
 and attention was particularly drawn to a gold snuff- 
 box, set with brilliants, which was one of the many 
 marks of favour showered upon him by Catherine, 
 Empress of Russia, and which was generally valued 
 at the enormous sum of between thirty and forty 
 thousand pounds. This precious trinket excited Bar- 
 rington's cupidity in an extraordinary degree, and he 
 determined to exert himself, in order, by some means 
 or other, to get it into his possession. 
 
 A favourable opportunity occurred one night at 
 Covent Garden Theatre, where he contrived to get 
 near the prince, and dexterously conveyed the trea- 
 sure from his excellency's waistcoat pocket (in which, 
 according to Russian custom, it was usually carried) 
 into his own. This operation was not, however, per- 
 formed with sufficient delicacy to escape detection, 
 for the prince felt the attack that was so impudently 
 made upon his property, and, having reason to enter- 
 tain some suspicion of Barrington, he immediately 
 seized him by the collar. During the confusion that 
 naturally ensued upon such an unusual scene, Bar- 
 rington slipped the box into the hand of the prince, 
 who, doubtless, was only too rejoiced to recover it 
 with so much ease. The thief, however, was secured, 
 and committed to Tothill Fields Bridewell. 1 
 
 When examined before Sir John Fielding, Barring- 
 ton trumped up a story that he was a native of Ire- 
 land, of an affluent and respectable family ; that he 
 had been educated for the medical profession, and 
 had come to England to improve himself by means 
 1 Pulled down 1885. 
 
42 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 of his connections. This story, which was told with 
 extreme modesty and many tears, induced the prince 
 to think of him more as an unfortunate gentleman 
 than a guilty culprit, and he declined to proceed 
 against him, so that he was dismissed, with an ad- 
 monition from Sir John to amend his future conduct ; 
 and he must have left the court congratulating him- 
 self on his narrow, but lucky, escape. The publicity 
 which was given to this attempt lost him the society 
 of most of his friends, as he was held up to view in 
 the disgraceful light of an impostor ; and it also was 
 the means of giving him a further taste of prison 
 discipline. 
 
 In the pursuit of his peculiar industry, he frequent- 
 ed both Houses of Parliament, where he acquired 
 considerable plunder. Some weeks after the Covent 
 Garden affair, he was in the House of Lords during 
 an interesting debate that attracted a great number 
 of people, amongst whom was a gentleman who re- 
 cognised Barrington, and who informed the Deputy 
 Usher of the Black Kod of his probable business 
 there. That official promptly ejected him, though, 
 perhaps, not with the gentleness that he considered 
 his due, and he uttered such threats of vengeance 
 against his accuser that the latter made application 
 to a magistrate, who granted a warrant to take Bar- 
 rington into custody, and to bind him over to keep 
 the peace. But his credit was now sunk so low that 
 none of his former companions would come forward 
 with the necessary sureties, and Barrington, in de- 
 fault, was relegated to his former place of detention, 
 Tothill Fields Bridewell, where he remained a con- 
 siderable time before he was released. 
 
 During his incarceration, the story of his misdeeds 
 
GEORGE BARR1NGT0N. 43 
 
 was industriously circulated, and his character as bon 
 camarade was completely destroyed, so that the entry 
 to all decent company was absolutely shut against 
 him, and from this time forward he was obliged to 
 abandon the role of a ' gentleman ' pickpocket, and 
 descend to all the mean artifices of a common pil- 
 ferer. Even in this humble branch of his infamous 
 industry, his good fortune seems to have deserted 
 him, for he was detected in picking the pocket of a 
 low woman at Drury Lane Theatre in December, 
 1776, and, though he made a remarkably clever 
 speech in his defence, he was sentenced to three 
 years of ballast-heaving, or hard labour in the hulks 
 at Woolwich. Here, herded with the vilest of the 
 vile, he kept as much as possible from them, and, by 
 his good conduct, attracted the attention of the super- 
 intendents of convicts, and by their intervention he 
 was set free, after having sustained an imprisonment 
 of somewhat less than twelve months. 
 
 On his liberation, he lost no time in re-commencing 
 his vicious occupation, under various disguises, some- 
 times as a quack doctor, or as a clergyman ; or he 
 would assume the character of a grave commercial 
 traveller, only to appear, a few days later on, as the 
 keeper of a gambling-house, and he had many a 
 narrow escape from capture. 
 
 Justice, however, again laid her hands upon him, 
 for, less than six months after his liberation, he was 
 detected in picking the pocket of one, Elizabeth 
 Ironmonger, of a watch, was convicted on the clear- 
 est evidence, and, in spite of the very eloquent and 
 skilful defence he made, he was a second time sen- 
 tenced to the hulks with hard labour, this time for 
 five years. His speeches to the court, which were 
 
U EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 remarked in the public prints, as well as the letters 
 that he wrote seeking mitigation of his punishment, 
 display such talent that it is a matter of great regret 
 that it was not turned to more honest account. On 
 one occasion, when tried for stealing Sir G. Webster's 
 purse at the opera, in February, 1784, he was able, 
 by his eloquence, to influence the jury to return a 
 verdict of not guilty ; and a similar piece of good 
 fortune was vouchsafed to him a year after, when 
 arraigned for the robbery of a gentleman's watch at 
 Drury Lane Theatre, when his most ingenious and 
 well-chosen address to the jury resulted in his 
 acquittal. 
 
 He could not stand his second imprisonment on 
 the hulks, and to end it he attempted suicide by 
 stabbing himself in the breast with a pen-knife. 
 Medical aid was at hand, and the wound slowly heal- 
 ed, but he still continued to linger in a miserable 
 state, until he came under the notice of a gentleman 
 of position, who used his influence with the govern- 
 ment so successfully that he obtained Barrington's 
 release, subject to the condition that he should leave 
 the country. His benefactor also gave him money 
 for that purpose, and he was soon on the Chester 
 coach, en route for Ireland. When he arrived in Dub- 
 lin, he found his character had preceded him, and he 
 was so closely watched that it was not long before 
 he was again arrested, and acquitted only from want of 
 evidence. The judge admonished him most seriously, 
 which gave Barrington an opportunity of airing his 
 eloquence, and he delivered an oration on the unac- 
 countable force of prejudice that existed against 
 him ; but, when once he got away, he came to the 
 conclusion that the Irish capital was not a desirable 
 
GEORGE BARPJNGTON. 45 
 
 place of residence for him, so he travelled north- 
 wards, and ultimately reached Edinburgh. 
 
 However, the police of that city knew all about him, 
 and were more vigilant than their confreres in London 
 and Dublin, so that Barrington, finding himself both 
 suspected and watched, came to the conclusion that 
 the air of Scotland was not good for him, and turned 
 his face southward. Unmindful of the terms of his 
 liberation, or careless as to the result of his return, he 
 again sought London, where, once more, he fre- 
 quented the theatres, the opera-house, and the Pan- 
 theon, for some little time, with tolerable success — 
 but he was now too notorious to be long secure ; he 
 was closely watched, and well-nigh detected at the 
 latter of these places ; and, such strong suspicions of 
 his behaviour were entertained by the magistrates, 
 he was committed to Newgate, though on his trial 
 he was acquitted. 
 
 But he only escaped Scylla to be engulphed in 
 Charybdis, for one of the superintendents of convicts 
 had him detained for violating the conditions under 
 which he was liberated, and the consequence was 
 that he was made what was called * a fine in New- 
 gate,' that is, he had to serve out his unexpired term 
 of imprisonment there. This punishment he duly 
 suffered, and when he was once more set free, he at 
 once re-commenced his old practices, and lived a life 
 of shifts and roguery, until, in January, 1787, he was 
 detected in picking the pocket of a Mrs. Le Mesurier, 
 at Drury Lane Theatre, and was at once apprehend- 
 ed. He was given in charge of a constable named 
 Blandy, but by some means, either by negligence 
 of his custodian, or by bribing him, he made his 
 escape. 
 
46 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 For this he was outlawed, and, whilst the offended 
 majesty of the law was thus seeking to vindicate 
 itself, he was making a progress of the northern 
 counties under various disguises, sometimes appear- 
 ing as a quack doctor, or a clergyman, then in con- 
 nection with a gaming-table, and occasionally play- 
 ing the role of a rider (as commercial travellers were 
 then called) for some manufacturing firm. Although 
 frequently meeting with people who knew him, he 
 was never molested by them, until he was recog- 
 nised at Newcastle (whilst being examined in the 
 justice-room there, regarding a theft he had commit- 
 ted) by a gentleman from London as being ' wanted ' 
 for the robbery at Drury Lane Theatre, and he was 
 promptly despatched to Bow Street once more. On 
 his arrival, he was committed to Newgate as an out- 
 law, and, miserable and dejected, his spirits sank 
 within him. His friends, however (for even he had 
 friends) made up a purse of a hundred guineas for 
 his defence. His trial took place in November, 1789, 
 when he conducted his own defence, as usual, with 
 extraordinary ability, arguing the various points of 
 law with the judge with surprising acuteness and 
 elegant language, till, eventually, being aided by the 
 absence of a material witness, he made such an 
 impression upon the court that a verdict of acquittal 
 was recorded. 
 
 All these escapes, however, seem to have had no 
 deterrent effect upon him, and he again set off for 
 Ireland, where he joined an accomplice named 
 Hubert, who was speedily apprehended, in the act of 
 picking a pocket, and sentenced to seven years trans- 
 portation. Dublin after this was far too hot for 
 Barrington, so he adroitly made his escape to Eng- 
 
GEORGE BARRINGTON. 47 
 
 land, where, after rambling about the country for 
 some time, he re-appeared in London. But he had 
 not been in the metropolis very long before he was 
 apprehended, as his indictment says, for ' stealing on 
 the 1st of September, 1780, in the parish of Enfield, 
 in the county of Middlesex, a gold watch, chain, seals, 
 and a metal key, the property of Henry Hare Town- 
 send.' The case was very clear, but Barrington de- 
 fended himself very ingeniously, and with a certain 
 amount of oratory, of which the following is a sample : 
 
 4 1 am well convinced of the noble nature of a 
 British Court of Justice; the dignified and benign 
 principles of its judges, and the liberal and candid 
 spirit of its jurors. 
 
 ' Gentlemen, life is the gift of God, and liberty its 
 greatest blessing ; the power of disposing of both or 
 either is the greatest man can enjoy. It is also 
 adventitious that, great as that power is, it cannot 
 be better placed than in the hands of an English 
 jury ; for they will not exercise it like tyrants, who 
 delight in blood, but like generous and brave men, 
 who delight to spare rather than destroy ; and who, 
 forgetting they are men themselves, lean, when they 
 can, to the side of compassion. It may be thought, 
 gentlemen of the jury, that I am appealing to your 
 passions, and, if I had the power to do it, I would 
 not fail to employ it. The passions animate the 
 heart, and to the passions we are indebted for the 
 noblest actions, and to the passions we owe our 
 dearest and finest feelings; and, when it is con- 
 sidered, the mighty power you now possess, what- 
 ever leads to a cautious and tender discharge of it, 
 must be thought of great consequence : as long as 
 the passions conduct us on the side of benevolence, 
 
48 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 they are our best, our safest, and our most friendly- 
 guides.' 
 
 But all his eloquence was thrown away on a jury 
 of practical men, and they found him guilty. His 
 trial took place on the 15th of September, 1790, and 
 on the 22nd of September he received his sentence, 
 which was seven years' transportation. He took his 
 leave dramatically, and made a speech lamenting his 
 hard fate throughout life. 
 
 'The world, my Lord, has given me credit for 
 abilities, indeed much greater than I possess, and, 
 therefore, much more than I deserved; but I have 
 never found any kind hand to foster those abilities. 
 
 1 1 might ask, where was the generous and power- 
 ful hand that was ever stretched forth to rescue 
 George Barrington from infamy? In an age like 
 this, which, in several respects, is so justly famed for 
 liberal sentiments, it was my severe lot that no noble- 
 minded gentleman stepped forward and said to me, 
 " Barrington, you are possessed of talents which may 
 be useful to society. 1 feel for your situation, and, as 
 long as you act the part of a good citizen, I will be 
 your protector ; you will then have time and oppor- 
 tunity to rescue yourself from the obloquy of your 
 former conduct." 
 
 ' Alas, my Lord, George Barrington had never the 
 supreme felicity of having such comfort administered 
 to his wounded spirit. As matters have unfortu- 
 nately turned out, the die is cast; and, as it is, I 
 bend, resigned to my fate, without one murmur or 
 complaint.' 
 
 Thus ended his life in England, which he was 
 never to see again, and it is with pleasure that we 
 can turn to a brighter page in his history. 
 
GEORGE BARR1NGT0N. 49 
 
 In his account of his voyage to New South Wales, 
 he says that it was with unspeakable satisfaction that 
 he received orders to embark, agreeably to his sen- 
 tence ; and it is pleasing to observe that, under his 
 adverse circumstances, the friends he had made in 
 his prosperity did not forsake him in his adversity, 
 for many of them came to bid him adieu, and not 
 one of them came empty-handed ; in fact, their 
 generosity was so great, that he had difficulty in 
 getting permission to take all their gifts on board. 
 
 His account of their embarkation gives us an 
 extremely graphic description not only of the treat- 
 ment of convicts, but of the unhappy wretches 
 themselves. 
 
 'About a quarter before five, a general muster 
 took place, and, having bid farewell to my fellow- 
 prisoners, we were escorted from the prison to 
 Blackfriars Bridge by the City Guard, where two 
 lighters were waiting to receive us. This proces- 
 sion, though early, and but few spectators, made a 
 deep impression on my mind, and the ignominy of 
 being thus mingled with felons of all descriptions, 
 many scarce a degree above the brute creation, 
 intoxicated with liquor, and shocking the ears of 
 those they passed with blasphemy, oaths, and songs, 
 the most offensive to modesty, inflicted a punishment 
 more severe than the sentence of my country, and 
 fully avenged that society I had so much wronged.' 
 
 And there is little doubt but that the moral repug- 
 nance to his miserable, and vicious companions was 
 mainly the cause of the reformation which took place 
 in him. 
 
 The condition of convicts at that day was not 
 enviable. There were two hundred and fifty of 
 
 E 
 
50 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 them in the ship with Barrington, all packed in the 
 hold, their hammocks being slung within seventeen 
 inches of each other : being encumbered with their 
 irons, and deprived of fresh air, their condition was 
 soon rendered deplorable. To alleviate their suffer- 
 ings as much as possible, they were permitted to 
 walk the deck (as much as was consistent with the 
 safety of the ship), ten at a time ; and the women, of 
 whom there were six on board, had a snug berth to 
 themselves. But, in spite of this humane and con- 
 siderate treatment, thirty-six of them died on the 
 voyage. 
 
 Barrington, however, was not in such evil case, for 
 a friend had accompanied him on board, and, by his 
 influence and exertions, had not only procured stow- 
 age for his packages, but also liberty to walk the 
 deck unencumbered with irons. Nor did his help 
 stop here, for he prevailed upon the boatswain to 
 admit him into his mess, which consisted of the 
 second mate, carpenter, and gunner, on condition 
 that he paid his proportion towards defraying the 
 extra requisites for the mess during the voyage. 
 The boatswain, too, had his hammock slung next to 
 his own, so that his life was made as comfortable as 
 it could be, under the circumstances, and he had not 
 to herd with the convicts. 
 
 Soon after leaving the Bay of Biscay, these gentle- 
 men began to give trouble. The captain, very 
 humanely, had released many of the weaker con- 
 victs of their galling chains, and allowed them to 
 walk on deck, ten at a time. Two of them, who 
 were Americans, and had some knowledge of navi- 
 gation, prevailed upon the majority of their comrades 
 to attempt to seize the ship, impressing upon them 
 
GEORGE BARRINGTON. hi 
 
 that it would be an easy task, and that when 
 captured, they would sail to America, where every 
 man would not only obtain his liberty, but receive 
 a tract of land from Congress, besides a share of 
 the money arising from the sale of the ship and cargo. 
 
 The poor dupes swallowed the bait, and the muti- 
 neers determined that on the first opportunity, whilst 
 the officers were at dinner, those convicts who were 
 on deck should force the arm-chest, which was kept 
 on the quarter-deck, and, at the same time, would 
 make a signal to two of them to attack the sentinels, 
 and obtain possession of their arms, while word was 
 passed for those below to come on deck. And, as 
 they planned, so they carried out the mutiny : when 
 the captain and officers were below examining the 
 stowage of some wine — a cask, in the spirit-room, 
 being leaky — and the only persons on deck were 
 Barrington and the man at the helm. 
 
 Barrington was going forward, but was stopped 
 by one of the Americans, followed by another convict, 
 who struck at him with a sword, which luckily hit 
 against a pistol that the American had pointed at 
 him. Barrington snatched up a handspike, and felled 
 one of them, and the steersman left his wheel and 
 called up the captain and crew. For a few moments 
 Barrington kept the mutineers at bay, when assist- 
 ance came — and a blunderbuss being fired amongst 
 the convicts, wounding several, they retreated, and 
 were all driven into the hold. An attempt of this 
 kind required the most exemplary punishment ; and 
 two of the ring-leaders, with very short shrift, were 
 soon dangling at the yard-arm, whilst others were 
 tasting the cat-o'-uine-tails at the gangway. 
 
 The mutiny having been thus quelled, and the 
 
 E 2 
 
52 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 convicts re-ironed, the captain had leisure to thank 
 Barrington, and to compliment him on his gallant 
 behaviour in the emergency. He assured Barrington 
 that, when they arrived at the Cape, he would 
 reward him, and that, meanwhile, he was to have 
 every liberty ; and orders were given to the steward 
 to supply him with anything he might have occasion 
 for during the voyage. As Barrington observes : 
 
 'I soon experienced the good effects of my late 
 behaviour ; as seldom a day passed but some fresh 
 meat or poultry was sent to me by the captain, 
 which considerably raised me in the estimation of 
 my messmates, who were no ways displeased at the 
 substitution of a sea-pie of fowl or fresh meat to a 
 dish of lobsconse, or a piece of salt-junk.' 
 
 On the ship's arrival at the Cape, the captain gave 
 Barrington an order on a merchant there for one 
 hundred dollars, telling him he might at any time 
 avail himself of the ship's boat going ashore, and 
 visit the town as often as he pleased, if he would 
 only tell the officers when he felt so inclined. It is 
 needless to say he fully availed himself of his 
 privilege, and laid out his money in the purchase 
 of goods most in demand in New South Wales. 
 
 On reaching Port Jackson, in consequence of the 
 captain's report, he had a most gracious reception 
 from the governor, who, finding him a man of ability 
 and intelligence, almost immediately appointed him 
 superintendent of the convicts at Paramatta: his 
 business being chiefly to report the progress made 
 in the different works that were carried on there. 
 Here he had ample leisure and opportunities of study- 
 ing the natives and their habits and customs, and 
 in his ' History of New South Wales,' he gives an 
 
GEORGE BARRINGTON. 53 
 
 interesting account of the aborigines of Australia, 
 now so rapidly approaching extinction. The gover- 
 nor, Philip, made unceasing efforts to win their friend- 
 ship, and even went to the extent of forcing his 
 acquaintance on them, by the summary method of 
 capturing a few, and keeping them in friendly dur- 
 ance ; hoping thus to gain their good-will, so that, 
 on their release, they might report to their friends 
 that the white man was not so bad as he was 
 represented. But it was all in vain ; for, beyond a 
 very few converts to civilisation, the savage remained 
 untameable. 
 
 By the purchases which Barrington had made at 
 the Cape, as well as the presents he had brought 
 from England, he was enabled to furnish his house 
 in a rather better style than his neighbours, and, 
 moreover, he managed to collect around him a few 
 farm-yard animals, which, together with his great 
 love for horticulture, made his life far from unendur- 
 able. His position, as peace-officer of the district, 
 was no sinecure ; for the criminal population over 
 whom he had jurisdiction gave him very considerable 
 trouble, more especially after the introduction into 
 the settlement, by some American vessels, of New 
 England rum, the baneful effects of which were very 
 soon apparent : the partiality of the convicts for it 
 being incredible, for they preferred receiving it as 
 the price of their labour to any other article, either 
 of provisions or clothing. 
 
 Barrington's tact and good management in the 
 numerous disturbances that arose, as more convicts 
 were poured into the station, were very conspicuous, 
 and his conduct was altogether such as compensated, 
 in a great measure, for his former misdeeds. His 
 
54 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 domestic matters improved by degrees, so that his 
 situation was equal, if not preferable, to that of most 
 of the settlers there, and, to crown all, in September, 
 1799, the Governor — Hunter — presented him with an 
 absolute pardon, complimenting him on his faithful 
 discharge of the duties which had been entrusted to 
 him, and the integrity and uniform uprightness of his 
 conduct, and, furthermore, said that his general 
 behaviour, during his whole residence, perfectly ob- 
 literated every trace of his former indiscretions. 
 
 JBarrington was further appointed a principal super- 
 intendent of the district of Paramatta, with a per- 
 manent salary of £50 per annum (his situation having 
 been, hitherto, only provisional) and, eventually, the 
 confidence he inspired was such that he was raised 
 to the office of Chief of the constabulary force of the 
 Colony, on the principle, it may be presumed, of 
 ' setting a thief to catch a thief.' In this post he gave 
 great satisfaction, and died, much respected by all 
 who knew him, at Botany Bay. 
 
 He wrote ' The History of New South Wales,' &c. 
 London, 1802 ; a most valuable and interesting book. 
 1 An Account of a Voyage to New South Wales,' Lou- 
 don, 1803. ' The History of New Holland,' London, 
 1808 ; and a book was published with his name as 
 author, 'The London Spy,' which went through 
 several editions. 
 
55 
 
 MILTON'S BONES. 
 
 N the first series of Notes and Queries, vol. 
 v. p. 369 (April 17, 1852), is a note from 
 which the following is an extract : * In vol. 
 v, p. 275, mention is made of Cromwell's 
 skull ; so it may not be out of place to tell 
 you that I have handled one of Milton's ribs. Cowper 
 speaks indignantly of the desecration of our divine 
 poet's grave, on which shameful occurrence some of 
 the bones were clandestinely distributed. One fell to 
 the lot of an old and esteemed friend, and between 
 forty-five and fifty years ago, at his house, not many 
 miles from London, I have often examined the said 
 rib-bone.' 
 
 The lines of Cowper's to which he refers were 
 written in August, 1790, and are entitled 
 
 STANZAS 
 
 On the late indecent Liberties taken with the remains of the 
 great Milton. Anno 1790. 
 
 * Me too, perchance, in future days, 
 The sculptured stone shall show, 
 With Paphian myrtle or with bays 
 Parnassian on my brow. 
 
 But I, or ere that season come, 
 Escaped from every care, 
 
56 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Shall reach my refuge in the tomb, 
 And sleep securely there.' 1 
 
 So sang, in Roman tone and style, 
 The youthful bard, ere long 
 Ordain' d to grace his native isle 
 With her sublimest song. 
 
 Who then but must conceive disdain, 
 Hearing the deed unblest, 
 Of wretches who have dared profane 
 His dread sepulchral rest ? 
 
 HI fare the hands that heaved the stones 
 Where Milton's ashes lay, 
 That trembled not to grasp his bones 
 And steal his dust away ! 
 
 ill-requited bard ! neglect 
 Thy living worth repaid, 
 And blind idolatrous respect 
 As much affronts thee dead. 
 
 Leigh Hunt possessed a lock of Milton's hair which 
 had been given to him by a physician — and over 
 which he went into such rhapsodies that he composed 
 no less than three sonnets addressed to the donor — 
 which may be found in his <Foliage,'ed. 1818, pp. 131, 
 132, 133. The following is the best : — 
 
 TO MD., 
 
 On his giving me a lock of Milton's hair. 
 It lies before me there, and my own breath 
 Stirs its thin outer threads, as though beside 
 The living head I stood in honoured pride, 
 
 1 Forsitan et nostros ducat de marmore vultu.3 
 Nectens aut Paphia myrti ant Parnasside lauri 
 Fronde comas — At ego secura pace quiescam. 
 
 Milton in Manso. 
 
MILTON'S BONES. 57 
 
 Talking of lovely things that conquered death. 
 
 Perhaps he pressed it once, or underneath 
 
 Ran his fine fingers, when he leant, blank- eyed, 
 
 And saw, in fancy, Adam and his bride 
 
 With their heaped locks, or his own Delphic wreath. 
 
 There seems a love in hair, though it be dead. 
 
 It is the gentlest, yet the strongest thread 
 
 Of our frail plant — a blossom from the tree 
 
 Surviving the proud trunk ; — as if it said, 
 
 Patience and Gentleness is Power. In me 
 
 Behold affectionate eternity. 
 
 How were these personal relics obtained? By 
 rifling his tomb. Shakespeare solemnly cursed any- 
 one who should dare to meddle with his dead body, 
 and his remains are believed to be intact. 
 
 ' Good friend, for Jesus' sake, forbear 
 To dig the dust inclosed here : 
 Blest be the man who spares these stones, 
 And cursed be he who moves my bones/ 
 
 But Milton laid no such interdict upon his poor 
 dead body — and it was not very long after his burial, 
 which took place in 1674, that the stone which cover- 
 ed it, and indicated his resting-place, was removed, 
 as Aubrey tells us in his « Lives ' (vol. iii, p. 450). * His 
 stone is now removed. About two years since (1681) 
 the two steppes to the communion-table were raysed, 
 Ighesse, Jo. Speed, 1 and he lie together/ And so it 
 came to pass that, in the church of St. Giles', Cripple- 
 gate, where he was buried, there was no memorial of 
 the place where he was laid, nor, indeed, anything 
 to mark the fact of his burial in that church until, in 
 
 1 John Speed, the historian, died 1629, and was buried in the 
 church of St. Giles', Cripplegate. 
 
58 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 1793, Samuel Whitbread set up a fine marble bust of 
 the poet, by Bacon, with an inscription giving the 
 dates of his birth and death, and recording the fact 
 that his father was also interred there. 
 
 It is probable that Mr. Whitbread was moved 
 thereto by the alleged desecration of Milton's tomb 
 in 1790, of which there is a good account written by 
 Philip Neve, of Furnival's Inn, which is entitled, ' A 
 Narrative of the Disinterment of Milton's coffin, in 
 the Parish-Church of St. GlLES,Cripplegate,on Wednes- 
 day, August 4th, 1790 ; and the Treatment of the 
 Corpse during that and the following day.' 
 
 As this narrative is not long, I propose to give it 
 in its entirety, because to condense it would be to 
 spoil it, and, by giving it in extenso, the reader will be 
 better able to judge whether it was really Milton's 
 body which was exhumed. 
 
 A NARRATIVE, &c 
 
 HAVING read in the Public Advertiser, on Saturday, 
 the 7th of August, 1790, that Milton's coffin had been 
 dug up in the parish church of St. Giles, Cripplegate, 
 and was there to be seen, I went immediately to the 
 church, and found the latter part of the information 
 to be untrue ; but, from conversations on that day, on 
 Monday, the 9th, and on Tuesday, the 10th of August, 
 with Mr. Thomas Strong, Solicitor and F.A.S., Red 
 Cross Street, Vestry- Clerk ; Mr. John Cole, Barbican, 
 Silversmith, Churchwarden; Mr. John Laming, Bar- 
 bican, Pawnbroker ; and Mr. Fountain, Beech Lane, 
 Publican, Overseers; Mr. Taylor, of Stanton, Derby- 
 shire, Surgeon ; a friend of Mr. Laming, and a visitor 
 in his house ; Mr. William Ascough, Coffin-maker, Fore 
 Street, Parish Clerk; Benjamin Holmes and Thomas 
 
MILTON'S BONES. 59 
 
 Hawkesworth, journeymen to Mr. Ascough; Mrs. 
 H&ppey, Fore Street, Sexton ; Mr. Ellis, No. 9, Lamb's 
 Chapel, comedian of the Royalty-theatre ; and John 
 Poole (son of Rowland Poole), Watch-spring maker, 
 Jacob's Passage, Barbican, the following facts are 
 established : 
 
 It being in the contemplation of some persons to 
 bestow a considerable sum of money in erecting a 
 monument, in the parish church of St. Giles, Cripple- 
 gate, to the memory of Milton, and the particular spot 
 of his interment in that church having for many 
 years past been ascertained only by tradition, several 
 of the principal parishioners have, at their meetings, 
 frequently expressed a wish that his coffin should be 
 dug for, that incontestable evidence of its exact 
 situation might be established, before the said monu- 
 ment should be erected. The entry, among the 
 burials, in the register-book, 12th of November, 1674, 
 is ' John Milton, Gentleman, consumption, chancelU 
 The church of St. Giles, Cripplegate, was built in 1030, 
 was burnt down (except the steeple) and rebuilt in 
 1545 ; was repaired in 1682 ; and again in 1710. In 
 the repair of 1782, an alteration took place in the 
 disposition of the inside of the church ; the pulpit 
 was removed from the second pillar, against which it 
 stood, north of the chancel, to the south side of the 
 present chancel, which was then formed, and pews 
 were built over the old chancel. The tradition has 
 always been that Milton was buried in the chancel, 
 under the clerk's desk ; but the circumstance of the 
 alteration in the church, not having, of late years, 
 been attended to, the clerk, sexton, and other officers 
 of the parish have misguided inquirers, by showing 
 the spot under the clerk's desk, in the present chan- 
 
<60 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 eel, as the place of Milton s interment. I have twice, 
 at different periods, been shown that spot as the 
 place where Milton lay. Even Mr. Basherville, who 
 died a few years ago, and who had requested, in his 
 will, to be buried by Milton, was deposited in the 
 above-mentioned spot of the present chancel, in pious 
 intention of compliance with his request. The church 
 is now, August, 1790, under a general repair, by con- 
 tract, for £1,350, and Mr. Strong, Mr. Cole, and other 
 parishioners, having very prudently judged that the 
 search would be made with much less inconvenience 
 to the parish at this time, when the church is under 
 repair, than at any period after the said repair should 
 be completed, Mr. Cole, in the last days of July, 
 ordered the workmen to dig in search of the coffin. 
 Mr. Ascough, his father, and grandfather, have been 
 parish clerks of St. Giles for upwards of ninety years 
 past. His grandfather, who died in February, 1759-60, 
 aged eighty-four, used often to say that Milton had been 
 buried under the clerk's desk in the chancel. John 
 Poole, aged seventy, used to hear his father talk of 
 Milton's person, from those who had seen him ; and 
 also, that he lay under the common-councilmen's 
 pew. The common-councilmen's pew is built over 
 that very part of the old chancel, where the former 
 clerk's desk stood. These traditions in the parish re- 
 ported to Mr. Strong and Mr. Cole readily directed 
 them to dig from the present chancel, northwards, 
 towards the pillar, against which the former pulpit 
 and desk had stood. On Tuesday afternoon, August 
 3rd, notice was brought to Messrs. Strong and Cole 
 that the coffin was discovered. They went immedi- 
 ately to the church, and, by help of a candle, pro- 
 ceeded under the common-councilmen's pew to the 
 
MILTON'S BONES. 61 
 
 place where the coffin lay. It was in. a chalky soil, 
 and directly over a wooden coffin, supposed to be that 
 of Milton s father ; tradition having always reported 
 that Milton was buried next to his father. The 
 registry of the father of Milton, among the burials, 
 in the parish-book, is * Jolm Melton, Gentleman, 15th of 
 March, 1646-7.' In digging through the whole space 
 from the present chancel, where the ground was 
 opened, to the situation of the former clerk's desk, 
 there was not found any other coffin, which could 
 raise the smallest doubt of this being Milton s. The 
 two oldest found in the ground had inscriptions, 
 which Mr. Strong copied ; they were of as late dates 
 as 1727 and 1739. When he and Mr. Cole had 
 examined the coffin, they ordered water and a brush 
 to be brought, that they might wash it, in search of 
 an inscription, or initials, or date ; but, upon its being 
 carefully cleansed, none was found. 
 
 The following particulars were given me in writing 
 by Mr. Strong, and they contain the admeasurement 
 of the coffin, as taken by him, with a rule. 'A 
 leaden coffin, found under the common-councilmen's 
 pew, on the north side of the chancel, nearly under 
 the place where the old pulpit and clerk's desk stood. 
 The coffin appeared to be old, much corroded, and 
 without any inscription or plate upon it. It was, in 
 length, five feet ten inches, and in width, at the 
 broadest part, over the shoulders, one foot four 
 inches.' Conjecture naturally pointed out, both to 
 Mr. Strong and Mr. Cole, that, by moving the leaden 
 coffin, there would be a great chance of finding some 
 inscription on the wooden one underneath ; but, with 
 a just and laudable piety, they disdained to disturb 
 the sacred ashes, after a requiem of one hundred and 
 
62 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 sixteen years; and having satisfied their curiosity, 
 and ascertained the fact, which was the subject of it, 
 Mr. Cole ordered the ground to be closed. This was 
 on the afternoon of Tuesday, August the 3rd ; and, 
 when I waited on Mr. Strong, on Saturday morning, 
 the 7th, he informed me that the coffin had been 
 found on the Tuesday, had been examined, washed, 
 and measured by him and Mr. Cole; but that the 
 ground had been immediately closed, when they 
 left the church; — not doubting that Mr. Cole's order 
 had been punctually obeyed. But the direct contrary 
 appears to have been the fact. 
 
 On Tuesday evening, the 3rd, Mr. Cole, Messrs. 
 Laming and Taylor, Holmes, &c, had a merry meeting, 
 as Mr. Cole expresses himself, at Fountain's house ; 
 the conversation there turned upon Milton s coffin 
 having been discovered; and, in the course of the 
 evening, several of those present expressing a desire 
 to see it, Mr. Cole assented that, if the ground was 
 not already closed, the closiug of it should be de- 
 ferred until they should have satisfied their curiosity. 
 Between eight and nine on Wednesday morning, the 
 4th, the two overseers {Laming and Fountain) and 
 Mr. Taylor, went to the house of Ascough, the clerk, 
 which leads into the church-yard, and asked for 
 Holmes ; they then went with Holmes into the church, 
 and pulled the coffin, which lay deep in the ground, 
 from its original station to the edge of the excava- 
 tion, into day-light. Mr. Laming told me that, to 
 assist in thus removing it, he put his hand into a 
 corroded hole, which he saw in the lead, at the coffin 
 foot. When they had thus removed it, the overseers 
 asked Holmes if he could open it, that they might 
 see the body. Holmes immediately fetched a mallet 
 
MILTON'S BONES. 63 
 
 and a chisel, and cut open the top of the coffin, 
 slantwise from the head, as low as the breast; so 
 that the top, being doubled backward, they could 
 see the corpse ; he cut it open also at the foot. Upon 
 first view of the body, it appeared perfect, and com- 
 pletely enveloped in the shroud, which was of many 
 folds ; the ribs standing up regularly. When they 
 disturbed the shroud, the ribs fell. Mr. Fountain told 
 me that he pulled hard at the teeth, which resisted, 
 until some one hit them a knock with a stone, when 
 they easily came out. There were but five in the 
 upper jaw, which were all perfectly sound and white, 
 and all taken by Mr. Fountain ; he gave one of them 
 to Mr. Laming ; Mr. Laming also took one from the 
 lower jaw; and Mr. Taylor took two from it. Mr. 
 Laming told me that he had, at one time, a mind to 
 bring away the whole under-jaw, with the teeth in it ; 
 he had it in his hand, but tossed it back again. Also 
 that he lifted up the head, and saw a great quantity of 
 hair, which lay straight and even behind the head, and 
 in the state of hair which had been combed and tied 
 together before interment ; but it was wet, the coffin 
 having considerable corroded holes, both at the head 
 and foot, and a great part of the water with which 
 it had been washed on the Tuesday afternoon having 
 run into it. The overseers and Mr. Taylor went 
 away soon afterwards, and Messrs. Teaming and 
 Taylor went home to get scissors to cut off some 
 of the hair : they returned about ten, when Mr. 
 Teaming poked his stick against the head, and brought 
 some of the hair over the forehead ; but, as they saw 
 the scissors were not necessary, Mr. Taylor took up 
 the hair, as it lay on the forehead, and carried it 
 home. The water, which had got into the coffin 
 
46 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 on the Tuesday afternoon, bad made a sludge at the 
 bottom of it, emitting a nauseous smell, and which 
 occasioned Mr. Laming to use his stick to procure 
 the hair, and not to lift up the head a second time. 
 Mr. Laming also took out one of the leg-bones, but 
 threw it in again. Holmes went out of church, whilst 
 Messrs. Laming, Taylor, and Fountain were there the 
 first time, and he returned when the two former were 
 come the second time. When Messrs. Laming and 
 Taylor had finally quitted the church, the coffin was 
 removed from the edge of the excavation back to its 
 original station; but was no otherwise closed than 
 by the lid, where it had been cut and reversed, being 
 bent down again. Mr. Ascongh, the clerk, was from 
 home the greater part of that day, and Mrs. Hoppey, 
 the sexton, was from home the whole day. Eliza- 
 beth Grant, the grave-digger, who is servant to Mrs. 
 Hoppey, therefore now took possession of the coffin ; 
 and, as its situation under the common-councilmen's 
 pew would not admit of its being seen without the 
 help of a candle, she kept a tinder-box in the exca- 
 vation, and, when any persons came, struck a light, 
 and conducted them under the pew, where, by 
 reversing the part of the lid which had been cut, she 
 exhibited the body, at first for sixpence, and afterwards 
 for threepence and twopence each person. The workers 
 in the church kept the doors locked to all those who 
 would not pay the price of a pot of beer for entrance, 
 and many, to avoid that payment, got in at a window 
 at the west end of the church, near to Mr. AscougKs 
 counting-house. 
 
 I went on Saturday, the 7th, to Mr. Laming' 's house, 
 to request a lock of the hair ; but, not meeting with 
 Mr. Taylor at home, went again on Monday, the 9th, 
 
MILTON'S BONES. 65 
 
 when Mr. Taylor gave me part of what hair he had 
 reserved for himself. Uawkesworth having informed 
 me, on the Saturday, that Mr. Ellis, the player, had 
 taken some hair, and that he had seen him take a 
 rib-bone, and carry it away in paper under his coat, 
 I went from Mr. Laming 's on Monday to Mr. Ellis, 
 who told me that he had paid 6 d - to Elizabeth Grant 
 for seeing the body ; and that he had lifted up the 
 head, and taken from the sludge under it a small 
 quantity of hair, with which was a piece of the 
 shroud, and, adhering to the hair, a bit of the skin 
 of the skull, of about the size of a shilling. He 
 then put them all into my hands, with the rib-bone, 
 which appeared to be one of the upper ribs. The 
 piece of the shroud was of coarse linen. The hair 
 which he had taken was short ; a small part of it 
 he had washed, and the remainder was in the clotted 
 state in which he had taken it. He told me that 
 he had tried to reach down as low as the hands of 
 the corpse, but had not been able to effect it. The 
 washed hair corresponded exactly with that in my 
 possession, and which I had just received from Mr. 
 Taylor, Ellis is a very ingenious worker in hair, 
 and he said that, thinking it would be of great 
 advantage to him to possess a quantity of Milton's 
 hair, he had returned to the church on Thursday, 
 and had made his endeavours to get access a second 
 time to the body ; but had been refused admittance. 
 Hawkesioortli took a tooth, and broke a bit off the 
 coffin ; of which I was informed by Mr. Ascough. I 
 purchased them both of Hawkesivorth, on Satur- 
 day the 7th, for 2 s -; and he told me that, when 
 he took the tooth out, there were but two more 
 remaining; one of which was afterwards taken by 
 
66 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 another of Mr. Ascouglis men. And Ellis informed 
 me that, at the time when he was there, on Wednes- 
 day, the teeth were all gone ; but the overseers say 
 they think that all the teeth were not taken out 
 of the coffin, though displaced from the jaws, but 
 that some of them must have fallen among the 
 other bones, as they very readily came out, after 
 the hrst were drawn. Haslib, son of William Haslib, 
 of Jewin Street, undertaker, took one of the small 
 bones, which I purchased of him, on Monday, the 
 9th, for 2 s - 
 
 With respect to the identity of the person ; any- 
 one must be a skeptic against violent presumptions 
 to entertain a doubt of its being that of Milton. The 
 parish traditions of the spot ; the age of the coffin — 
 none other found in the ground which can at all 
 contest with it, or render it suspicious — Poole s tra- 
 dition that those who had conversed with his father 
 about Milton's person always described him to have 
 been thin, with long hair ; the entry in the register- 
 book that Milton died of consumption, are all strong 
 confirmations, with the size of the coffin, of the 
 identity of the person. If it be objected that, against 
 the pillar where the pulpit formerly stood, and im- 
 mediately over the common-councilmen's pew, is a 
 monument to the family of Smith, which shows that 
 ' near that place ' were buried, in 1653, Richard Smith, 
 aged 17 ; in 1655, John Smith, aged 32 ; and in 
 1664, Elizabeth Smith, the mother, aged 64; and 
 in 1675, Richard Smith, the father, aged 85 ; it may 
 be answered that, if the coffin in question be one 
 of these, the others should be there also. The corpse 
 is certainly not that of a man of 85; and, if it be 
 supposed one of the first named males of the Smith 
 
MILTON'S BONES. 67 
 
 family, certainly the two later coffins should appear ; 
 but none such were found, nor could that monument 
 have been erected until many years after the death 
 of the last person mentioned in the inscription ; and 
 it was then placed there, as it expresses, not by any 
 of the family, but at the expense of friends. The 
 flatness of the pillar, after the pulpit had been re- 
 moved, offered an advantageous situation for it ; and 
 * near this place? upon a mural monument, will always 
 admit of a liberal construction. Holmes, who is much 
 respected in that parish, and very ingenious and 
 intelligent in his business, says that a leaden coffin, 
 when the inner wooden-case is perished, must, from 
 pressure and its own weight, shrink in breadth, and 
 that, therefore, more than the present admeasurement 
 of this coffin across the shoulders must have been 
 its original breadth. There is evidence, also, that 
 it was incurvated, both on the top and at the sides, 
 at the time when it was discovered. But the strongest 
 of all confirmations is the hair, both in its length 
 and colour. Behold Faiiliornes quarto-print of Milton 
 taken ad vivum in 1760, five years before Milton's 
 death. Observe the short locks growing towards 
 the forehead, and the long ones flowing from the same 
 place down the sides of the face. The whole quan- 
 tity of hair which Mr. Taylor took was from the 
 forehead, and all taken at one grasp. I measured 
 on Monday morning, the 9th, that lock of it which 
 he had given to Mr. Laming, six inches and a half 
 by a rule ; and the lock of it which he gave to me, 
 taken at the same time, and from the same place, 
 measures only two inches and a half. In the reign 
 of Charles II. how few, besides Milton, wore their own 
 hair ! Wood says Milton had light-brown hair, the 
 
 f2 
 
68 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 very description of that which we possess ; and, 
 what may seem extraordinary, it is yet so strong 
 that Mr. Laming, to cleanse it from its clotted state, 
 let the cistern-cock run on it for near a minute, and 
 then rubbed it between his fingers without injury. 
 
 Milton s coffin lay open from Wednesday morning, 
 the 4th, at 9 o'clock until 4 o'clock in the afternoon 
 of the following day, when the ground was closed. 
 
 With respect to there being no inscriptions on the 
 coffin, Holmes says that inscription-plates were not 
 used, nor invented at the time when Milton was 
 buried ; that the practice then was to paint the 
 inscription on the outside wooden coffin, which in 
 this case was entirely perished. 
 
 It has never been pretended that any hair was taken 
 except by Mr. Taylor, and by Ellis the player ; and 
 all which the latter took would, when cleansed, 
 easily lie in a small locket. Mr. Taylor has di- 
 vided his share into many small parcels; and the 
 lock which I saw in Mr. Laming } s hands on Saturday 
 morning, the 7th, and which then measured six inches 
 and a half, had been so cut and reduced by divisions 
 among Mr. Laming 9 8 friends, at noon, on Monday, the 
 9th, that he thus possessed only a small bit, from two 
 to three inches in length. 
 
 All the teeth are remarkably short, below the gums. 
 The five which were in the upper jaw, and the 
 middle teeth of the lower, are perfect and white. 
 Mr. Fountain took the five upper jaw teeth ; Mr. 
 Laming one from the lower jaw ; Mr. Taylor two from 
 it; Haickesworth one; and another of Mr. AscougJis 
 men one ; besides these, I have not been able to trace 
 any, nor have I heard that any more were taken. It 
 is not probable that more than ten should have been 
 
MILTON'S BONES. 69 
 
 brought away, if the conjecture of the overseers, 
 that some dropped among the other bones, be 
 founded. 
 
 In recording a transaction which will strike every 
 liberal mind with horror and disgust, I cannot omit 
 to declare that I have procured those relics which I 
 possess, only in hope of bearing part in a pious and 
 honourable restitution of all that has been taken ; the 
 sole atonement which can now be made to the vio- 
 lated rights of the dead ; to the insulted parishioners 
 at large ; and to the feelings of all good men. Dur- 
 ing the present repair of the church, the mode is 
 obvious and easy. Unless that be done, in vain will 
 the parish hereafter boast a sumptuous monument to 
 the memory of Milton ; it will but display their shame 
 in proportion to its magnificence. 
 
 I collected this account from the mouths of those 
 who were immediate actors in this most sacrilegious 
 scene ; and before the voice of charity had reproached 
 them with their impiety. By it those are excul- 
 pated whose just and liberal sentiments restrained 
 their hands from an act of violation, and the blood 
 of the lamb is dashed against the door-posts of the 
 perpetrators, not to save, but to mark them to posterity. 
 
 Philip Neve. 
 
 Furnival's Inn, 
 
 14th of August, 1790. 
 
 This Mr. Neve, whose pious horror at the sacri- 
 legious desecration of the poet's tomb seems only to 
 have been awakened at the eleventh hour, and whose 
 restitution of the relics he obtained does not appear, 
 was probably the P.N. who was the author, in 1 789, 
 of ' Cursory Remarks on some of the Ancient English 
 
70 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Poets, particularly Milton.' It is a work of some erudi- 
 tion, but the hero of the book, as its title plainly shows, 
 was Milton. Neve places him in the first rank, and can 
 hardly find words with which to extol his genius and 
 intellect, so that, probably, some hero-worship was 
 interwoven in the foregoing relation of the discovery 
 of Milton's body; and it may be as well if the other 
 side were heard, although the attempt at refutation is 
 by no means as well authenticated as Neve's narra- 
 tive. It is anonymous, and appeared in the St. 
 James's Chronicle, September 4-7th, 1790, and in the 
 European Magazine, vol. xviii, pp. 206-7, for Septem- 
 ber, 1790, and is as follows : 
 
 MILTON. 
 
 Reasons why it is impossible that the Coffin lately dug 
 up in the Parish Church of St. Giles, Cripplegate, 
 should contain the reliques o/MlLTON. 
 
 First. Because Milton was buried in 1674, and 
 this coffin was found in a situation previously allotted 
 to a wealthy family, unconnected with his own. — See 
 the mural monument of the Smiths, dated 1653, &c, 
 immediately over the place of the supposed Milton's 
 interment. — In the time that the fragments of several 
 other sarcophagi were found; together with two 
 skulls, many bones, and a leaden coffin, which was 
 left untouched because it lay further to the north, 
 and (for some reason, or no reason at all) was unsus- 
 pected of being the Miltonic reservoir. 
 
 Secondly. The hair of MiLTON is uniformly de- 
 scribed and represented as of a light hue ; but far the 
 greater part of the ornament of his pretended skull 
 is of the darkest brown, without any mixture of gray. 1 
 
 1 The few hairs of a lighter colour, are supposed to have been 
 such as had growu on the sides of the cheeks after the corpse had 
 been interred. 
 
MILTON'S BONES. 71 
 
 This difference is irreconcileable to probability. Our 
 hair, after childhood, is rarely found to undergo a 
 total change of colour, and Milton was 6$ years 
 old when he died, a period at which human locks, in 
 a greater or less degree, are interspersed with white. 
 Why did the Overseers, &c, bring away only such 
 hair as corresponded with the description of Milton's ? 
 Of the light hair there was little ; of the dark a 
 considerable quantity. But this circumstance would 
 have been wholly suppressed, had not a second 
 scrutiny taken place. 
 
 Thirdly. Because the skull in question is remark- 
 ably flat and small, and with the lowest of all possible 
 foreheads ; whereas the head of MlLTON was large, 
 and his brow conspicuously high. See his portrait 
 so often engraved by the accurate Vertue, who was 
 completely satisfied with the authenticity of his 
 original. We are assured that the surgeon who 
 attended at the second disinterment of the corpse 
 only remarked, * that the little forehead there was, 
 was prominent.' 
 
 Fourthly. Because the hands of Milton were full 
 of chalk stones. Now it chances that his substitute's 
 left hand had been undisturbed, and therefore was in 
 a condition to be properly examined. No vestige, 
 however, of cretaceous substances was visible in it, 
 although they are of a lasting nature, and have 
 been found on the fingers of a dead person almost 
 coeval with Milton. 
 
 Fifthly. Because there is reason to believe that 
 the aforesaid remains are those of a young female 
 (one of the three Miss Smiths) ; for the bones are 
 delicate, the teeth small, slightly inserted in the jaw, 
 and perfectly white, even, and sound. From the 
 
72 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 corroded state of the pelvis, nothing could, with 
 certainty, be inferred ; nor would the surgeon already 
 mentioned pronounce absolutely on the sex of the 
 deceased. Admitting, however, that the body was a 
 male one, its very situation points it out to be a male 
 of the Smith family ; perhaps the favourite son John, 
 whom Richard Smith, Esq., his father, so feelingly 
 laments. (See Peck's * Desiderata Curiosa,' p. 536). 1 
 To this darling child a receptacle of lead might have 
 been allotted, though many other relatives of the 
 same house were left to putrefy in wood. 
 
 Sixthly. Because MiLTON was not in affluence 2 — 
 expired in an emaciated state, in a cold month, and 
 was interred by direction of his widow. An expen- 
 sive outward coffin of lead, therefore, was needless, 
 and unlikely to have been provided by a rapacious 
 woman who oppressed her husband's children while 
 he was living, and cheated them after he was dead. 
 
 Seventhly. Because it is improbable that the cir- 
 cumstance of Milton's having been deposited under 
 the desk should, if true, have been so effectually 
 concealed from the whole train of his biographers. 
 
 1 ' MDCLV. May vi, died my (now) only and eldest son, John 
 Smith (Proh Dolor, beloved of all men!) at Mitcham in Surrey. 
 Buried May ix in St. Giles, Cripplegate.' 
 
 2 'Edward Philips or Phillips, in his life of Milton, attached to 
 'Letters of State, written by Mr. John Milton,' &c., London, 
 1694, (p. 43), says : * He is said to have dyed worth £1,500 in 
 Money (a considerable Estate, all things considered), besides 
 Houshold Goods ; for he sustained such losses as might well have 
 broke any person less frugal and temperate than himself ; no less 
 than £2,000 which he had put for Security and Improvement into 
 the Excise Office, but, neglecting to recal it in time, could never 
 after get it out, with all the Power and Interest he had in the 
 Great ones of those Times ; besides another great Sum by misman- 
 agement and for want of good advice.' 
 
MILTON'S BONES. 73 
 
 It was, nevertheless, produced as an ancient and 
 well-known tradition, as soon as the parishioners of 
 Cripplegate were aware that such an incident was 
 gaped for by antiquarian appetence, and would be 
 swallowed by antiquarian credulity. How happened 
 it that Bishop Newton, who urged similar inquiries 
 concerning Milton above forty years ago in the same 
 parish, could obtain no such information f 1 
 
 1 Thomas Newton, Bishop of Bristol, thus writes in his life of 
 Milton, prefixed to his edition of ' Paradise Lost,' London, 1749 : 
 * His body was decently interred near that of his father (who had 
 died very aged about the year 1647) in the chancel of the church 
 of St. Giles, Cripplegate ; and all his great and learned friends 
 in London, not without a friendly concourse of the common 
 people, paid their last respects in attending it to the grave. Mr. 
 Fenton, in his short but elegant account of the life of Milton, 
 speaking of our author's having no monument, says that "he 
 desired a friend to inquire at St. Giles's Church, where the sexton 
 showed him a small monument, which he said was supposed to be 
 Milton's ; but the inscription had never been legible since he was 
 employed in that office, which he has possessed about forty years. 
 This sure could never have happened in so short a space of time, 
 unless the epitaph had been industriously erased ; and that sup- 
 position, says Mr. Fenton, carries with it so much inhumanity 
 that I think we ought to believe it was not erected to his memory." 
 It is evident that it was not erected to his memory, and that the 
 sexton was mistaken. For Mr. Toland, in his account of the life 
 of Milton, says that he was buried in the chancel of St. Giles's 
 Church, " where the piety of his admirers will shortly erect a 
 monument becoming his worth, and the encouragement of letters 
 in King William's reign." This plainly implies that no monument 
 was erected to him at that time, and this was written in 1698, 
 and Mr. Fenton's account was first published, I think, in 1725 ; 
 so that not above twenty- seven years intervened from the one 
 account to the other ; and consequently the sexton, who it is said 
 was possessed of his office about forty years, must have been mis- 
 taken, and the monument must have been designed for some other 
 person, and not for Milton.' 
 
74 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Eighthly. Because Mr. Laming (see Mr. Neve's 
 pamphlet, second edition, p. 19) observes that the 
 ' sludge ' at the bottom of the coffin ' emitted a 
 nauseous smell.' But, had this corpse been as old as 
 that of Milton, it must have been disarmed of its 
 power to offend, nor would have supplied the least 
 effluvium to disgust the nostrils of Our delicate in- 
 quirer into the secrets of the grave. The last remark 
 will seem to militate against a foregoing one. The 
 whole difficulty, however, may be solved by a reso- 
 lution not to believe a single word said on such an 
 occasion by any of those who invaded the presump- 
 tive sepulchre of Milton. The man who can handle 
 pawned stays, breeches, and petticoats without 
 disgust may be supposed to have his organs of 
 smelling in no very high state of perfection. 
 
 Ninthly. Because we have not been told by 
 Wood, Philips, Richardson, Toland, etc., that Nature, 
 among her other partialities to MlLTON, had indulged 
 him with an uncommon share of teeth. And yet 
 above a hundred have been sold as the furniture of 
 his mouth by the conscientious worthies who assisted 
 in the plunder of his supposed carcase, and finally 
 submitted it to every insult that brutal vulgarity 
 could devise and express. Thanks to fortune, how- 
 ever, his corpse has hitherto been violated but by 
 proxy ! May his genuine reliques (if aught of him 
 remains unmingled with common earth) continue to 
 elude research, at least while the present overseers of 
 the poor of Cripplegate are in office. Hard, indeed, 
 would have been the fate of the author of 'Paradise 
 Lost ' to have received shelter in a chancel, that a 
 hundred and sixteen years after his interment his 
 domns ultima might be ransacked by two of the 
 
MILTON'S BONES. 75- 
 
 lowest human beings, a retailer of spirituous liquors, 
 and a man who lends sixpences to beggars on such 
 despicable securities as tattered bed-gowns, cankered 
 porridge-pots, and rusty gridirons. 1 Cape saxa manu, 
 cape robora, pastor ! But an Ecclesiastical Court may- 
 yet have cognisance of this more than savage trans- 
 action. It will then be determined whether our 
 tombs are our own, or may be robbed with impunity 
 by the little tyrants of a workhouse. 
 
 * If charnel-houses, and our graves, must send 
 Those that we bury back, our monuments 
 Shall be the maws of kites.' 
 
 It should be added that our Pawnbroker, Gin-seller, 
 and Company, by deranging the contents of their 
 ideal Milton's coffin, by carrying away his lower jaw, 
 ribs, and right hand — and by employing one bone as 
 an instrument to batter the rest — by tearing the 
 shroud and winding-sheet to pieces, &c, &c, had 
 annihilated all such further evidence as might have 
 been collected from a skilful and complete examina- 
 tion of these nameless fragments of mortality. So 
 far, indeed, were they mutilated that, had they been 
 genuine, we could not have said with Horace, 
 1 Invenies etiam disjecti membra Poetse.' 
 Who, after a perusal of the foregoing remarks 
 (which are founded on circumstantial truth), will con- 
 gratulate the parishioners of St. Giles, Cripplegate, on 
 their discovery and treatment of the imaginary dust 
 
 1 Between the creditable trades of pawnbroker and dram-seller 
 there is a strict alliance. As Hogarth observes, the money lent 
 by Mr. Gripe is immediately conveyed to the shop of Mr. Kill- 
 man, who, in return for the produce of rags, distributes poison 
 under the specious name of cordials. See Hogarth's celebrated 
 print called Gin Lane. 
 
76 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 of MlLTON? His favourite, Shakespeare, most fortu- 
 nately reposes at a secure distance from the paws 
 of Messieurs Laming and Fountain, who, otherwise, 
 might have provoked the vengeance imprecated by 
 our great dramatic poet on the remover of his bones. 
 
 From the preceding censures, however, Mr. Cole 
 (Churchwarden), and Messrs. Strong and Ascougli 
 (Vestry and Parish Clerks), should, in the most dis- 
 tinguished manner, be exempted. Throughout the 
 whole of this extraordinary business, they conducted 
 themselves with the strictest decency and propriety. 
 It should also be confessed, by those whom curiosity 
 has since attracted to the place of Milton's supposed 
 disinterment, that the politeness of the same parish 
 officers could only be exceeded by their respect for 
 our illustrious author's memory, and their concern at 
 the complicated indignity which his nominal ashes 
 have sustained/ 
 
 Now it was hardly likely that Mr. Neve, with the 
 extremely plausible case that he had, would sit still 
 and see his pet theory knocked on the head, so he 
 issued a second edition of his pamphlet with this 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 As some reports have been circulated, and some 
 anonymous papers have appeared, since the publica- 
 tion of this pamphlet, with intent to induce a belief 
 that the corpse mentioned in it is that of a woman, 
 and as the curiosity of the public now calls for a 
 second impression of it, an opportunity is offered of 
 relating a few circumstances which have happened 
 since the 14th of August, and which, in some degree, 
 may confirm the opinion that the corpse is that of 
 Milton. 
 
 On Monday, the 16th, I called upon the overseer, 
 
MILTON'S BONES. 77 
 
 Mr. Fountain, when he told me that the parish officers 
 had then seen a surgeon who, on Wednesday the 4th, 
 had got through a window into the church, and who 
 had, upon inspection, pronounced the corpse to be 
 that of a woman. I thought it very improbable that 
 a surgeon should creep through a window, who could 
 go through a door for a few half-pence ; but I no 
 otherwise expressed my doubts of the truth of the 
 information than by asking for the surgeon's address. 
 I was answered < that the gentleman begged not to 
 have it known, that he might not be interrupted by 
 enquiries.' A trifling relic was, nevertheless, at the 
 same time withholden, which I had expected to 
 receive through Mr. Fountains hands ; by which it 
 appeared that those in possession of them were still 
 tenacious of the spoils of the coffin, although they 
 affected to be convinced they were not those of 
 Milton. These contradictions, however, I reserved 
 for the test of an inquiry elsewhere. 
 
 In the course of that week I was informed that 
 some gentlemen had, on Tuesday, the 17th, prevailed 
 on the churchwardens to suffer a second disinterment 
 of the coffin, which had taken place on that day. On 
 Saturday, the 21st, I waited on Mr. Strong, who told 
 me that he had been present at such second disinter- 
 ment, and that he had then sent for an experienced 
 surgeon of the neighbourhood, who, upon inspection 
 and examination of the corpse, had pronounced it to 
 be that of a man. 1 was also informed, on that day, 
 the 21st, by a principal person of the parish, whose 
 information cannot be suspected, that the parish 
 officers had agreed among themselves that, from my 
 frequent visits and inquiries, I must have an intention 
 of delivering some account of the transaction to the 
 
78 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 world ; and that, therefore, to stop the narrative from 
 going forth, they must invent some story of a surgeon's 
 inspection on the 4th, and of his declaration that the 
 corpse was that of a woman. From this information 
 it was easy to judge what would be the fate of any 
 personal application to the parish officers, with intent 
 to obtain a restitution of what had been taken from 
 the coffin I, therefore, on Wednesday, the 25th, 
 addressed the following letter to Mr. Strong : — 
 
 * Dear Sir, 
 
 ' The reflection of a few moments, after I 
 left you on Saturday, clearly showed me that the 
 probability of the coffin in question being Milton's 
 was not at all weakened, either by the dates, or the 
 number of persons on the Smiths' monument ; but 
 that it was rather confirmed by the latter circum- 
 stance. By the evidence which you told me was 
 given by the surgeon, called in on Tuesday, the 1 7th, 
 the corpse is that of a male ; it is certainly not that of 
 a man of eighty-five ; if, therefore, it be one of the 
 earlier buried Smiths, all the later coffins of that family 
 should appear, but not one of them is found. I, then, 
 suppose the monument to have been put there because 
 the flat pillar, after the pulpit was removed, offered a 
 convenient situation for it, and " near this place " to be 
 open, as it is in almost every case where it appears, 
 to very liberal interpretation. 
 
 ' It is, therefore, to be believed that the unworthy 
 treatment, on the 4th, was offered to the corpse 
 of Milton, Knowing what I know, I must not be 
 silent. It is a very unpleasant story to relate ; but, 
 as it has fallen to my task, I will not shrink from 
 
MILTON'S BONES. 79 
 
 it. I respect nothing in this world more than truth, 
 and the memory of Milton ; and to swerve in a tittle 
 from the first would offend the latter. I shall give the 
 plain and simple narrative, as delivered by the parties 
 themselves. If it sit heavy on any of their shoulders, 
 it is a burthen of their own taking up, and their 
 own backs must bear it. They are all, as I find, 
 very fond of deriving honour to themselves from 
 Milton, as their parishioner ; perhaps the mode, which 
 I have hinted, is the only one which they have now 
 left themselves of proving an equal desire to do 
 honour to him. If I had thought that, in person- 
 ally proposing to the parish officers a general search 
 for, and collection of, all the spoils, and to put them, 
 together with the mangled corpse and old coffin, 
 into a new leaden one, I should have been attended 
 to, I would have taken that method ; but, when I 
 found such impertinent inventions as setting up a 
 fabulous surgeon to creep in at a window practised, 
 I felt that so low an attempt at derision would 
 ensure that, whatever I should afterwards propose, 
 would be equally derided, and I had then left no 
 other means than to call in the public opinion in 
 aid of my own, and to hope that we should, at 
 length, see the bones of an honest man, and the first 
 scholar and poet our country can boast, restored to 
 their sepulchre. 
 
 'The narrative will appear, 1 believe, either to- 
 morrow or on Friday ; whenever it does, your withers 
 are unwrung, and Mr. Cole has shown himself an 
 upright churchwarden. 
 
 ' I cannot conclude without returning you many 
 thanks for your great civilities, and am, &c.' 
 
80 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 The corpse was found entirely mutilated by those 
 who disinterred it on the 1 7th ; almost all the ribs, 
 the lower jaw, and one of the hands gone. Of 
 all those who saw the body on Wednesday, the 
 4th, and on Thursday, the 5th, there is not one 
 person who discovered a single hair of any other 
 colour than light brown, although both Mr. Laming 
 and Mr. Ellis lifted up the head, and although the 
 considerable quantity of hair which Mr. Taylor took 
 was from the top of the head, and that which Ellis 
 took was from behind it; yet, from the accounts 
 of those who saw it on the 17th, it appears that 
 the hair on the back of the head was found of dark 
 brown, nearly approaching to black, although all 
 the front hair remaining was of the same light brown 
 as that taken on the 4th. It does not belong to me 
 either to account for or to prove the fact. 
 
 On Wednesday, September the 1st, I waited on 
 Mr. Dyson, who was the gentleman sent for on the 
 17th, to examine the corpse. I asked him simply, 
 whether, from what had then appeared before him, 
 he judged it to be male or female ? His answer was 
 that, having examined the pelvis and the skull, he 
 judged the corpse to be that of a man. I asked 
 what was the shape of the head? He said that the 
 forehead was high and erect, though the top of 
 the head was flat ; and added that the skull was 
 of that shape and flatness at the top which, differing 
 from those of blacks, is observed to be common 
 and almost peculiar to persons of very comprehensive 
 intellects. I am a stranger to this sort of knowledge, 
 but the opinion is a strong confirmation that, from 
 all the premises before him, he judged the head to 
 be that of Milton. On a paper, which he showed 
 
MILTON'S BONES. 81 
 
 me, enclosing a bit of the hair, he had written 
 6 Milton s hair.' 
 
 Mr. Dyson is a surgeon, who received his pro- 
 fessional education under the late Dr. Hunter, is in 
 partnership with Mr. Price, in Fore Street, where 
 the church stands, is of easy access, and his affability 
 can be exceeded only by his skill in an extensive 
 line of practice. 
 
 Mr. Taylor, too, who is a surgeon of considerable 
 practice and eminence in his county, judged the corpse, 
 on the 4th, to be that of a male. 
 
 A man, also, who has for many years acted as grave- 
 digger in that parish, and who was present on the 
 17th, decided, upon first sight of the skull, that it 
 was male; with as little hesitation, he pronounced 
 another, which had been thrown out of the ground 
 in digging, to be that of a woman. Decisions ob- 
 viously the result of practical, rather than of scien- 
 tific knowledge ; for, being asked his reasons, he 
 could give none, but that observation had taught 
 him to distinguish such subjects. Yet this latter 
 sort of evidence is not to be too hastily rejected ; 
 it may not be understood by everybody, but to any- 
 one acquainted with those who are eminently skilled 
 in judging of the genuineness of ancient coins, it 
 will be perfectly intelligible. In that difficult and 
 useful art, the eye of a proficent decides at once ; 
 a novice, however, who should inquire for the reasons 
 of such decision, would seldom receive a further an- 
 swer than that the decision itself is the result of 
 experience and observation, and that the eye can 
 be instructed only by long familiarity with the sub- 
 ject; yet all numismatic knowledge rests upon this 
 sort of judgment. 
 
 G 
 
82 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 After these evidences, what proofs are there, or 
 what probable presumptions, that the corpse is that 
 of a woman ? 
 
 It was necessary to relate these facts, not only as 
 they belonged to the subject, but lest, from the 
 reports and papers above mentioned, I might, other- 
 wise, seem to have given either an unfaithful or a 
 partial statement of the evidences before me ; where- 
 as now it will clearly be seen what facts appeared on 
 the first disinterment, which preceded, and what are 
 to be attributed to the second, which succeeded the 
 date of the narrative. 
 
 I have now added every circumstance which has 
 hitherto come to my knowledge relative to this extra- 
 ordinary transaction, and conclude with this declara- 
 tion, that I should be very glad if any person would, 
 from facts, give me reason to believe that the corpse 
 in question is rather that of Elizabeth Smith, whose 
 name I know only from her monument, than that of 
 John Milton. 
 
 P. N.' 
 
 ' 8th of September, 1790.' 
 
83 
 
 THE TRUE STORY OF EUGENE ARAM. 
 
 HE only knowledge which very many 
 people possess of the life and crime of 
 Eugene Aram has been derived from the 
 popular romance bearing his name, 
 written by the late Lord Lytton. And 
 this nobleman, influenced by his individual bias, has 
 so woven fiction with a small modicum of fact, as to 
 render the story, as a history of a celebrated crime, 
 totally unreliable. Stripped of the gloss Lord Lytton 
 has given it, and revealed in its bare nakedness, it 
 shows Eugene Aram in a very different light from the 
 solitary scholar, surrounded by books, with high, 
 romantic aspirations and noble thoughts, winning the 
 love of a pure and lovely girl ; it shows us instead a 
 poor country school-master, clever, but self-taught, 
 married to a common woman, whose very faith he 
 doubted, struggling with poverty, and heavily weigh- 
 ed down with several children ; it paints him as a 
 man whose companions were sordid and dishonest, 
 whilst he himself was a liar, a thief, and a murderer, 
 a selfish man who scrupled not to leave wife and 
 children to shift for themselves, a man untrustworthy 
 in his relations of life. 
 
 Eugenius, or Eugene Aram was born in the year 
 
 G 2 
 
84 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 1704, 1 at Rarnsgill, a little village in Netherdale, 
 Yorkshire, and his father was a gardener, as he says, 
 of great abilities in botany, and an excellent draughts- 
 man, who served Dr. Compton, Bishop of London, 
 and, afterwards, Sir Edward Blackett, of Newby, and 
 Sir John Ingilby, of Ripley. When he was five or 
 six years of age, the family removed to Bondgate, 
 near Ripon, his father having purchased a little pro- 
 perty there. Here he was sent to school, and was 
 taught in a purely elementary manner to be capable 
 of reading the New Testament, and this was all the 
 education his parents gave him, with the exception 
 of about a month's schooling some long time after- 
 wards with the Rev. Mr. Alcock of Burnsal. 
 
 When about thirteen or fourteen, he joined his 
 father at Newby, till the death of Sir Edward 
 Blackett, and, his father having several books on 
 mathematics, and the boy being of a studious turn of 
 mind, he mastered their contents, and laid the 
 foundation of his future scholarship. When about 
 sixteen years of age, he went to London to be in the 
 counting-house of Mr. Christopher Blackett as book- 
 keeper ; but he had not been there more than a year 
 or two when he caught the small-pox, and, on his 
 recovery, went home into Yorkshire. His native air 
 soon restored him to health, and he studied hard at 
 poetry, history, and antiquities. He thus fitted him- 
 self for keeping a school, which he opened in Nether- 
 dale, and continued there for many years teaching 
 and studying. There he married, as he says, ' un- 
 
 1 Probably in the month of September, as the entry of his bap- 
 tism in the registry of the chapelry of Middlesmoor, in Netherdale, 
 says ' Eugenius Aram, son of Peter Aram, baptized the 2nd of 
 October. 7 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF EUGENE ARAM. 85 
 
 fortunately enough for me, for the misconduct of the 
 wife which that place afforded me has procured for 
 me this place, this prosecution, this infamy, and this 
 sentence.' 
 
 During these years he read the Latin and Greek 
 authors, and obtained such a name for scholarship 
 that he was invited to Knaresborough to keep a 
 school there. He removed thither in the year 1734, 
 and continued there until about six weeks after the 
 murder of Daniel Clark. In the meantime he had 
 mastered Hebrew, and when he went to London he 
 got a situation to teach Latin, and writing, at a school 
 in Piccadilly, kept by a Monsieur Painblanc, who not 
 only gave him a salary, but taught him French. 
 There he remained over two years, then went to Hays 
 as a writing-master, after which he wandered from 
 situation to situation, at one time earning his living 
 by copying for a law-stationer. At last, somehow, he 
 found himself an usher at the Free School at Lynn, 
 where he lived until he was arrested for the murder 
 of Daniel Clark. 
 
 This man was a shoemaker at Knaresborough, and 
 was an intimate visitor at Aram's house — too intimate, 
 indeed, Aram thought, with his wife, hence the refer- 
 ence to his wife previously quoted. He was a man 
 of bad character, and was more than suspected ot 
 having, in company of another vagabond named 
 Houseman, murdered a Jew boy, who travelled the 
 country for one Levi as a pedlar, carrying a box con- 
 taining watches and jewellery. The poor lad was 
 decoyed to a place called Thistle Hill, where he was 
 robbed, murdered, and buried. This was about the 
 year 1744, and his bones were not found until 1758. 
 
 Richard Houseman, who was born the same year 
 
$6 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 as Aram, was a near neighbour of the latter's — in 
 fact, he lived next door, and his occupation was that 
 of a heckler of flax, when he gave out to the women 
 of the village to spin for him. But, according to his 
 own statement, he was a most unscrupulous black- 
 guard. 
 
 Another intimate of Aram's was a publican, named 
 Terry, but he only played a subsidiary part in the 
 drama, and nothing was ever brought home to him. 
 
 In January, 1745, Clark married a woman with a 
 small fortune of about two hundred pounds, and, 
 immediately afterwards, this little nest of rogues con- 
 trived and carried out the following swindle. Clark, 
 as he was known to have married a woman of some 
 little money, was to obtain goods of any description 
 from whomsoever would part with them on credit ; 
 these goods were to be deposited with, and hidden by, 
 Aram and Houseman, and, after plundering all that 
 was possible, Clark was to decamp, and leave his 
 young wife to do the best she could. This was the 
 scheme in which the noble and refined Eugene Aram 
 of Lord Lytton was to, and did, bear his full part. 
 
 Velvet from one man, leather from another, whips 
 from a third, table and bed linen from a fourth, 
 money lent by a fifth — all was fish that came to their 
 net ; and, when obtained, they were hidden on the 
 premises either of Aram or Houseman, or else in a 
 place called St. Robert's Cave, which was situated in 
 a field adjoining the Nid, a river near Knaresborough. 
 When this source was thoroughly exploited, a new 
 scheme was hit on by this * long firm.' Clark should 
 pretend to be about to give a great wedding-feast, 
 and he went about gaily, borrowing silver tankards, 
 salvers, salts, spoons, &c, from whoever would lend 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF EUGENE ARAM. 87 
 
 them. Indeed, so multifarious were his perquisitions, 
 that, according to one contemporary account, he got, 
 among other goods, the following : ' three silver tan- 
 kards, four silver pints, one silver milk-pot, one ring 
 set with an emerald, and two brilliant diamonds, 
 another with three rose diamonds, a third with an 
 amethyst in the shape of a heart, and six plain rings, 
 eight watches, two snuff-boxes, Chambers' Dictionary, 
 two vols, folio, Pope's " Homer," six vols., bound.' 
 
 Having got all that could be got, it was now high 
 time that Clark should disappear. He was last seen 
 on the early morning of the 8th February, 1745, and 
 from that time until August 1, 1758, nothing was 
 heard of him. He was supposed to have gone away 
 with all his booty — and yet not all of it, for suspicion 
 was aroused that both Aram and Houseman, from 
 their intimacy with Clark, were accomplices in his 
 frauds. And so it clearly proved, for, on Aram's 
 house being searched, several articles were found the 
 produce of their joint roguery, and in his garden 
 were found buried, cambric and other goods, wrapped 
 in coarse canvas. Still, neither he, nor Houseman, 
 nor Terry were prosecuted, 1 but Aram thought it 
 prudent to change his residence ; so one fine day he 
 left his wife and family, and wandered forth. We 
 have seen the roving life he led, restless, and always 
 changing his abode ; yet, during those thirteen years 
 of shifting exile, it must be said, to his credit, that no 
 breath of scandal attached to him ; he was studious, 
 
 1 Though no warrants were issued against them, Aram was 
 arrested for debt, in order to keep him ; yet he immediately dis- 
 charged this debt — not only so, he paid off a mortgage on his 
 property at Bondgate. Suspicious facts, considering he was, 
 notably, a poor man. 
 
88 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 somewhat morose, yet he was so liked by the boys 
 at the grammar-school at Lynn, that, when he was 
 taken thence by the officers of justice, they cried at 
 losing him. 
 
 Whilst at Lynn, he was recognised in June, 1758, 
 by a horse-dealer, and this recognition eventually 
 led to his apprehension ; for, during that summer, a 
 labourer, digging for stone or gravel at a place called 
 Thistle Hill, near Knaresborough, found, at the depth 
 of two feet, a skeleton, which appeared to have been 
 buried doubled up. The remembrance of Clark's 
 disappearance was at once awakened, and the body 
 was set down as being his. 
 
 A country town has a keen recollection of anything 
 which has occurred disturbing its equal pace, and 
 the connection of Aram and Houseman with Clark 
 was duly remembered. Aram was away, but House- 
 man still lived among them, and he was ordered by 
 the coroner to attend the inquest. The principal 
 witness was Anna Aram, Eugene's wife, and she had 
 frequently, since her husband's departure, dropped 
 hints of her suspicion that Clark had been murdered. 
 Her evidence is clear. She said that Daniel Clark was 
 an intimate acquaintance of her husband's, and that 
 they had frequent transactions together before the 
 8th of February, 1744 — 5, and that Richard Houseman 
 was often with them ; particularly that, on the 7th 
 of February, 1744 — 5, about six o'clock in the even- 
 ing, Aram came home when she was washing in the 
 kitchen, upon which he directed her to put out the 
 fire, and make one above stairs ; she accordingly did 
 so. About two o'clock in the morning of the 8th 
 of February, Aram, Clark, and Houseman came to 
 Aram's house, and went upstairs to the room where 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF EUGENE ARAM. 89 
 
 she was. They stayed about an hour. Her husband 
 asked her for a handkerchief for Dickey (meaning 
 Richard Houseman) to tie about his head ; she ac- 
 cordingly lent him one. Then Clark said, * It will 
 soon be morning, and we must get off.' After which 
 Aram, Houseman, and Clark all went out together ; 
 that, upon Clark's going out, she observed him take 
 a sack or wallet upon his back, which he carried 
 along with him; whither they went she could not 
 tell. That about five o'clock the same morning her 
 husband and Houseman returned, but Clark did not 
 come with them. Her husband came upstairs, and 
 desired to have a candle that he might make a fire 
 below. To which she objected, and said, 'There 
 was no occasion for two fires, as there was a good 
 one in the room above, where she then was.' To 
 which Aram, her husband, answered, * Dickey ' (mean- 
 ing Richard Houseman) * was below, and did not 
 choose to come upstairs.' Upon which she asked 
 (Clark not returning with them), 'What had they 
 done with Daniel V To this her husband gave her 
 no answer, but desired her to go to bed, which she 
 refused to do, and told him, ■ They had been doing 
 something bad.' Then Aram went down with the candle. 
 She, being desirous to know what her husband and 
 Houseman were doing, and being about to go down- 
 stairs, sho heard Houseman say to Aram, 
 1 She is coming.' 
 
 Her husband replied, ' We'll not let her.' 
 Houseman then said, ' If she does, shell tell.' 
 1 What can she tell V replied Aram. ' Poor simple 
 thing ! she knows nothing.' 
 
 To which Houseman said, * If she tells that I am 
 here, 'twill be enough.' 
 
60 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Her husband then said, ' I will hold the door to 
 prevent her from coming.' 
 
 Whereupon Houseman said, ' Something must be 
 done to prevent her telling,' and pressed him to it 
 very much, and said, * If she does not tell now, she 
 may at some other time.' 
 
 * No/ said her husband, ' we will coax her a little 
 until her passion be off, and then take an opportunity 
 to shoot her.' 
 
 Upon which Houseman appeared satisfied and said, 
 ' What must be done with her clothes V AVhereupon 
 they both agreed that they would let her lie where 
 she was shot in her clothes. 
 
 She, hearing this discourse, was much terrified, 
 but remained quiet, until near seven o'clock in the 
 same morning, when Aram and Houseman went out 
 of the house. Upon which Mrs. Aram, coming 
 down-stairs, and seeing there had been a fire below 
 and all the ashes taken out of the grate, she went and 
 examined the dung-hill ; and, perceiving ashes of a 
 different kind to lie upon it, she searched amongst 
 them, and found several pieces of linen and woollen 
 cloth, very near burnt, which had the appearance of 
 belonging to wearing apparel. When she returned 
 into the house from the dung-hill, she found the 
 handkerchief she had lent Houseman the night 
 before ; and, looking at it, she found some blood upon 
 it, about the size of a shilling. Upon which she 
 immediately went to Houseman, and showed him the 
 pieces of cloth she had found, and said ' she was 
 afraid they had done something bad to Clark.' But 
 Houseman then pretended he was a stranger to her 
 accusation, and said ' he knew nothing what she 
 meant.' 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF EUGENE ARAM. 91 
 
 From the above circumstances she believed Daniel 
 Clark to have been murdered by Richard Houseman 
 and Eugene Aram, on the 8th of February, 1744 — 5. 
 
 Several witnesses gave evidence that the last per- 
 sons seen with Clark were Aram and Houseman, 
 and two surgeons gave it as their opinion that the 
 body might have lain in the ground about thirteen or 
 fourteen years. 
 
 During the inquiry Houseman seemed very uneasy: 
 he trembled, turned pale, and faltered in his speech ; 
 and when, at the instigation of the coroner, in ac- 
 cordance with the superstitious practice of the time, 
 he went to touch the bones, he was very averse so 
 to do. At last he mustered up courage enough to 
 take up one of the bones in his hand ; but, immedi- 
 ately throwing it down again, he exclaimed : ' This 
 is no more Dan Clark's bone than it is mine !' He 
 further said he could produce a witness who had 
 seen Clark after the 8th of February ; and he called 
 on Parkinson, who deposed that, personally, he had 
 not seen Clark after that time, but a friend of his 
 (Parkinson's) had told him that he had met a person 
 like Daniel Clark, but as it was a snowy day, and the 
 person had the cape of his great-coat up, he could 
 not say with the least degree of certainty who he was. 
 Of course, this witness did not help Houseman a 
 bit, and then the suspicion increased that he was 
 either the principal, or an accomplice in Clark's 
 murder. Application was made to a magistrate, 
 who granted a warrant for his apprehension. At his 
 examination he made a statement, which he would 
 not sign, saying, * He chose to waive it for the pre- 
 sent ; for he might have something to add, and there- 
 fore desired to have time to consider of it.' This 
 
92 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 confirmed former suspicions, and he was committed 
 to York Castle. 
 
 On his way thither he was very uneasy, and, hear- 
 ing that the magistrate who committed him was at 
 that time in York, he asked him to be sent for, and 
 he made the following statement : 
 
 The examination of Richard Houseman, of Knaresbrough, 
 flax-dresser. 
 
 ' This examinant saies that true it is that Daniel 
 Clark was murdered by Eugene Aram, late of 
 Knaresbrough, schoolmaster, and, as he believes, 
 it was on Friday morning, the 8th of February, 1744, 
 as set forth by other informations, as to matter of 
 time ; for that he, and Eugene Aram and Daniel 
 Clark were together at Aram's house early in the 
 morning, when there was snow on the ground, and 
 moonlight, and went out of Aram's house a little 
 before them, and went up the street a little before 
 them, and they called to him to go a little way with 
 them ; and he accordingly went with them to a 
 place called St. Robert's Cave, near Grimble Bridge, 
 where Aram and Clark stopt a little ; and then he 
 saw Aram strike him several times over the breast 
 and head, and saw him fall, as if he was dead, and 
 he, the examinant, came away and left them together, 
 but whether Aram used any weapon or not to kill 
 him with, he can't tell, nor does he know what he 
 did with the body afterwards, but believes Aram 
 left it at the Cave's mouth ; for this examinant, 
 seeing Aram do this, to which, he declares, he was 
 no way abetting, or privy to, nor knew of his design 
 to kill him at all. This made the examinant make 
 the best of his way from him, lest he might share 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF EUGENE ARAM. 93 
 
 the same fate ; and got to the bridge-end, and then 
 lookt back, and saw him coming from the Cave- 
 side, which is in a private rock adjoining the river ; 
 and he could discern some bundle in his hand, but 
 does not know what it was. On which he, this 
 informant, made the best of his way to the town, 
 without joining Aram again, or seeing him again 
 till the next day, and from that time to this, he 
 has never had any private discourse with him.' 
 
 After signing this statement, Houseman said that 
 Clark's body would be found in St. Robert's Cave, 
 in the turn at the entrance of the cave, its head 
 lying to the right ; and, sure enough, in the spot 
 described, and in that position, was a skeleton found, 
 with two holes in its skull, made apparently with a 
 pickaxe or hammer. 
 
 A warrant was at once issued for the apprehension 
 of Aram, and duly executed at Lynn. When first 
 questioned, he denied ever having been at Knares- 
 borough, or that he had ever known Daniel Clark ; 
 but when he was confronted with the constable from 
 Knaresborough, he was obliged to retract his words. 
 On the journey to York, Aram was restless, inquiring 
 after his old neighbours, and what they said of him. 
 He was told that they were much enraged against 
 him for the loss of their goods. Whereupon he asked 
 if it would not be possible to make up the matter ? 
 and the answer was, perhaps it might be, if he 
 restored what they had lost. He then said that was 
 impossible, but he might, perhaps, find them an 
 equivalent. 
 
 On his arrival at York, he was taken before a 
 magistrate, to whom he made a statement, which 
 was a parcel of lies. He was committed to York 
 
U EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Castle, but had not gone more than a mile on his 
 way thither when he wished to return and make a 
 second statement, which was as follows : 
 
 6 That he was at his own house on the 7th of 
 February, 1744—5, at night, when Richard Houseman 
 and Daniel Clark came to him with some plate ; and 
 both of them went for more, several times, and came 
 back with several pieces of plate, of which Clark 
 was endeavouring to defraud his neighbours; that 
 he could not but observe that Houseman was all 
 night very diligent to assist him to the utmost of 
 his power, and insisted that this was Houseman's 
 business that night, and not the signing any note 
 or instrument, as is pretended by Houseman ; that 
 Henry Terry, then of Knaresborough, ale-keeper, 
 was as much concerned in abetting the said frauds 
 as either Houseman or Clark; but was not now at 
 Aram's house, because as it was market-day — his ab- 
 sence from his guests might have occasioned some 
 suspicion ; that Terry, notwithstanding, brought two 
 silver tankards that night, upon Clark's account, 
 which had been fraudulently obtained; and that 
 Clark, so far from having borrowed twenty pounds 
 of Houseman, to his knowledge never borrowed 
 more than nine pounds, which he paid again before 
 that night. 
 
 1 That all the leather Clark had — which amounted 
 to a considerable value — he well knows was con- 
 cealed under flax in Houseman's house, with intent 
 to be disposed of by little and little, in order to 
 prevent suspicion of his being concerned in Clark's 
 fraudulent practices. 
 
 'That Terry took the plate in a bag, as Clark 
 and Houseman did the watches, rings, and several 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF EUGENE ARAM. 95 
 
 small things of value, and carried them into the 
 flat, where they and he ' (Aram) ' weut together to 
 St. Robert's Cave, and beat most of the plate flat. 
 It was thought too late in the morning, being about 
 four o'clock, on the 8th of February, 1744 — 5, for 
 Clark to go off, so as to get to any distance; it 
 was therefore agreed he should stay there till the 
 night following, and Clark, accordingly, stayed there 
 all that day, as he believes, they having agreed to 
 send him victuals, which were carried to him by 
 Henry Terry, he being judged the most likely person 
 to do it without suspicion ; for, as he was a shooter, 
 he might go thither under the pretence of sporting; 
 that the next night, in order to give Clark more 
 time to get off, Henry Terry, Richard Houseman, 
 and himself went down to the cave very early; 
 but he ' (Aram) * did not go in, or see Clark at all ; 
 that Richard Houseman and Henry Terry only went 
 into the cave, he staying to watch at a little distance 
 on the outside, lest anybody should surprise them. 
 
 * That he believes they were beating some plate, 
 for he heard them make a noise. They stayed there 
 about an hour, and then came out of the cave, and 
 told him that Clark was gone off. Observing a bag 
 they had along with them, he took it in his hand, 
 and saw that it contained plate. On asking why 
 Daniel did not take the plate along with him, Terry 
 and Houseman replied that they had bought it of 
 him, as well as the watches, and had given him 
 money for it, that being more convenient for him 
 to go off with, as less cumbersome and dangerous. 
 After which they all three went into Houseman's 
 warehouse, and concealed the watches, with the 
 small plate, there ; but that Terry carried away with 
 
96 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 him the great plate; that, afterwards, Terry told 
 him he carried it to How Hill, and hid it there, and 
 then went into Scotland and disposed of it; but 
 as to Clark, he could not tell whether he was mur- 
 dered or not, he knew nothing of him, only they 
 told him he was gone off.' 
 
 Terry, being thus implicated, was arrested and 
 committed to gaol ; but the prosecutors for the crown, 
 after the bills of indictment were preferred against 
 all three, finding their proof insufficient to obtain a 
 conviction at the coming assizes, prevailed on the 
 judge to hold the case over until the Lammas 
 Assizes. There was not enough outside evidence to 
 convict them all; evidence, if any, could only be 
 furnished by the criminals themselves. There was 
 sufficient to convict either Aram or Houseman singly, 
 if one or other would tell the truth, and all he knew ; 
 so after many consultations as to the person whom it 
 was most advisable and just to punish, it was 
 unanimously agreed that Aram, who from his educa- 
 tion and position was the worst of the lot, should be 
 punished, and in order to do so it was necessary to 
 try to acquit Houseman, who would then be available 
 as evidence against Aram. The case against Terry 
 was so slight, that he was, perforce, let go. 
 
 On Friday, 3rd of August, 1759, the trials took 
 place, and Houseman was first arraigned, but there 
 being no evidence against him he was acquitted, to 
 the great surprise and regret of everyone who was 
 not behind the scenes. 
 
 Then Aram was put in the dock to stand his trial, 
 and deep, indeed, must have been his disgust, when 
 he found his accomplice, Houseman, step into the 
 witness-box and tell his version (undoubtedly per- 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF EUGENE ARAM. 97 
 
 jured) of the murder. His evidence was, except in a 
 few minor particulars, similar to his previous state- 
 ment. Sweet innocent ! When he saw Aram strike 
 Clark, he made haste home, and knew nothing of the 
 disposal of the body until the next morning, when 
 Aram called on him, and told him he had left it in the 
 cave, and dire were his threats of vengeance should 
 Houseman ever disclose the dread secret of that 
 eventful night. 
 
 After this sensational evidence the other witnesses 
 must have seemed very tame. Clark's servant proved 
 that his master had just received his wife's little 
 portion, and that Aram was perfectly cognizant 
 thereof. Another witness deposed to seeing House- 
 man come out of Aram's house about one o'clock in 
 the morning of the 8th of February. A third deposed 
 to the recovery of some of his own goods of which 
 Clark had defrauded him, and which were found 
 buried in Aram's garden. The constable who arrest- 
 ed him had a few words to say, and the skull was 
 produced in Court, when a surgical expert declared 
 that the fractures must have been produced by blows 
 from some blunt instrument, and could not possibly 
 proceed from natural decay. 
 
 Aram was then called upon for his defence, and he 
 produced a manuscript of which the following is a 
 copy. It is, as will be perceived, a laboured and 
 casuistical defence, not having a true ring about it, 
 and not at all like the utterance of a perfectly inno- 
 cent man. 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 I know not whether it is of right or 
 through some indulgence of your Lordship that I am 
 
 H 
 
98 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 allowed the liberty at this Bar and at this time to 
 attempt a defence, incapable, and uninstructed as I 
 am to speak. Since, while I see so many eyes upon 
 me, so numerous and awful a concourse, fixed with 
 attention, and filled with I know not what expectancy, 
 I labour, not with guilt, my Lord, but with perplexity. 
 For having never seen a Court but this, being 
 wholly unacquainted with law, the customs of the 
 Bar, and all judiciary proceedings, I fear I shall be 
 so little capable of speaking with propriety in this 
 place, that it exceeds my hope, if I shall be able to 
 speak at all. 
 
 I have heard, my Lord, the indictment read, 
 wherein I find myself charged with the highest 
 crime, with an enormity I am altogether incapable 
 of, a fact to the commission of which there goes far 
 more insensibility of heart, more profligacy of morals, 
 than ever fell to my lot. And nothing, possibly, could 
 have admitted a presumption of this nature, but a 
 depravity not inferior to that imputed to me. How- 
 ever, as I stand indicted at your Lordship's Bar, and 
 have heard what is called evidence induced in sup- 
 port of such a charge, I very humbly solicit your 
 Lordship's patience, and beg the hearing of this 
 respectable audience, while I, single and unskilful, 
 destitute of friends, and unassisted by counsel, say 
 something, perhaps like an argument, in my defence. 
 I shall consume but little of your Lordship's time ; 
 what I have to say will be short, and this brevity, 
 probably, will be the best part of it. However, it is 
 offered with all possible regard, and the greatest sub- 
 mission to your Lordship's consideration, and that of 
 this honourable Court. 
 
 First. My Lord, the whole tenor of my conduct in 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF EUGENE ARAM. 99 
 
 life contradicts every particular of this indictment. 
 Yet I had never said this, did not my present circum- 
 stances extort it from me, and seem to make it 
 necessary. Permit me here, my Lord, to call upon 
 malignity itself, so long and cruelly busied in this 
 prosecution, to charge upon me any immorality, of 
 which prejudice was not the author. No, my Lord, I 
 concerted not schemes of fraud, projected no vio- 
 lence, injured no man's person or property. My days 
 were honestly laborious, my nights intensely studious. 
 And I humbly conceive my notice of this, especially 
 at this time, will not be thought impertinent or un- 
 reasonable, but, at least, deserving some attention. 
 Because, my Lord, that any person, after a temperate 
 use of life, a series of thinking and acting regularly, 
 and without one single deviation from sobriety, 
 should plunge into the very depth of profligacy, pre- 
 cipitately, and at once, is altogether improbable and 
 unprecedented, and absolutely inconsistent with the 
 course of things. Mankind is never corrupted at 
 once ; villainy is always progressive, and declines 
 from right, step after step, till every regard of pro- 
 bity is lost, and all moral obligation totally perishes. 
 
 Again, my Lord, a suspicion of this kind, which 
 nothing but malevolence could entertain, and ignor- 
 ance propagate, is violently opposed by my very 
 situation at that time, with respect to health. For, 
 but a little space before*, I had been confined to my 
 bed, and suffered under a very long and severe dis- 
 order, and was not able, for half a year together, so 
 much as to walk. The distemper left me, indeed, 
 yet slowly, and in part; but so macerated, so en- 
 feebled, that I was reduced to crutches, and was so 
 far from being well about the time I am charged with 
 
 h2 
 
100 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 this fact, that 1 never to this day perfectly recovered. 
 Could, then, a person in this condition take anything 
 into his head so unlikely, so extravagant 1 1, past 
 the vigour of my age, feeble and valetudinary, with 
 no inducement to engage, no ability to accomplish, 
 no weapon wherewith to perpetrate such a fact; 
 without interest, without power, without motive, 
 without means. 
 
 Besides, it must needs occur to everyone that an 
 action of this atrocious nature is never heard of, but, 
 when its springs are laid open, it appears that it was 
 to support some indolence or supply some luxury, to 
 satisfy some avarice or oblige some malice, to pre- 
 vent some real, or some imaginary want ; yet I lay 
 not under the influence of any one of these. Surely, 
 my Lord, I may, consistent with both truth and 
 modesty, affirm thus much ; and none who have any 
 veracity, and knew me, will ever question this. 
 
 In the second plea, the disappearance of Clark is 
 suggested as an argument of his being dead ; but the 
 uncertainty of such an inference from that, and the 
 fallibility of all conclusions of such a sort, from such 
 a circumstance, are too obvious and too notorious 
 to require instances ; yet, superceding many, permit 
 me to produce a very recent one, and that afforded 
 by this castle. 
 
 In June, 1757, William Thompson, for all the 
 vigilance of this place, in open daylight, and double- 
 ironed, made his escape, and, notwithstanding an 
 immediate inquiry set on foot, the strictest search, 
 and all advertisements, was never seen or heard of 
 since. If, then, Thompson got off unseen, through 
 all these difficulties, how very easy was it for Clark, 
 when none of them opposed him 1 But what would 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF EUGENE ARM1.- 101; 
 
 be thought of a prosecution commenced against any- 
 one seen last with Thompson ? 
 
 Permit me next, my Lord, to observe a little upon 
 the bones which have been discovered. It is said, 
 which, perhaps, is saying very far, that these are the 
 skeleton of a man. It is possible, indeed it may ; but 
 is there any certain known criterion which incon- 
 testibly distinguishes the sex in human bones ? Let 
 it be considered, my Lord, whether the ascertaining 
 of this point ought not to precede any attempt to 
 identify them. 
 
 The place of their deposition, too, claims much 
 more attention than is commonly bestowed upon it. 
 For, of all places in the world, none could have men- 
 tioned anyone wherein there was greater certainty 
 of finding human bones than an hermitage, except 
 he should point out a churchyard. Hermitages, in 
 times past, being not only places of religious retire- 
 ment, but of burial, too, and it has scarce or never 
 been heard of, but that every cell now known, con- 
 tains, or contained, these relics of humanity, some 
 mutilated and some entire. I do not inform, but 
 give me leave to remind, your Lordship, that here 
 sat solitary sanctity, and here the hermit, or the 
 anchoress, hoped that repose for their bones, when 
 dead, they here enjoyed when living. 
 
 All this while, my Lord, I am sensible this is known 
 to your Lordship, and many in this Court, better than 
 I. But it seems necessary to my case, that others, 
 who have not at all, perhaps, adverted to things of 
 this nature, and may have concern in my trial, should 
 be made acquainted with it. Suffer me, then, my 
 Lord, to produce a few of many evidences that these 
 cells were used as repositories of the dead, and to 
 
102 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 enumerate a few, in which human bones have been 
 found, as it happened in this in question, lest, to some, 
 that accident might seem extraordinary, and, conse- 
 quently, occasion prejudice. 
 
 1. The bones, as was supposed, of the Saxon, St. 
 Dubritius, were discovered buried in his cell at 
 Guy's Cliff near Warwick, as appears from the 
 authority of Sir AVilliam Dugdale. 
 
 2. The bones, thought to be those of the anchoress 
 Rosia, were but lately discovered in a cell at Roys- 
 ton, entire, fair, and undecayed, though they must 
 have lain interred for several centuries, as is proved 
 by Dr. Stukeley. 
 
 3. But our own country, nay, almost this neigh- 
 bourhood, supplies another instance ; for in January, 
 1747, was found by Mr. Stovin, accompanied by a 
 reverend gentleman, the bones in part of some 
 recluse, in the cell at Lindholm, near Hatfield. They 
 were believed to be those of William of Lindholm, 
 a hermit, who had long made this cave his habitation. 
 
 4. In February, 1744, part ofWoburn Abbey being 
 pulled down, a large portion of a corpse appeared, 
 even with the flesh on, and which bore cutting with 
 a knife, though it is certain this had lain above two 
 hundred years, and how much longer is doubtful,, 
 for this abbey was founded in 1145, and dissolved in 
 1558 or 1559. 
 
 What would have been said, what believed, if this 
 had been an accident to the bones in question ? 
 
 Further, my Lord, it is not yet out of living memory 
 that a little distance from Knaresborough, in a field,, 
 part of the manor of the worthy and patriotic baronet 
 who does that borough the honour to represent it in 
 Parliament, were found, in digging for gravel, not 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF EUGENE ARAM. 103 
 
 one human skeleton alone, but five or six, deposited 
 side by side, with each an urn placed at its head, as 
 your Lordship knows was usual in ancient interments. 
 
 About the same time, and in another field, almost 
 close to this borough, was discovered also, in search- 
 ing for gravel, another human skeleton ; but the 
 piety of the same worthy gentleman ordered both 
 pits to be filled up again, commendably unwilling to 
 disturb the dead. 
 
 Is the invention 1 of these bones forgotten, then, or 
 industriously concealed, that the discovery of those 
 in question may appear the more singular and extra- 
 ordinary 1 whereas, in fact, there is nothing extraor- 
 dinary in it. My Lord, almost every place conceals 
 such remains. In fields, in hills, in highway sides, 
 and in commons lie frequent and unsuspected bones. 
 And our present allotments for rest for the departed, 
 is but of some centuries. 
 
 Another particular seems not to claim a little of 
 your Lordship's notice, and that of the gentlemen of 
 the jury ; which is, that perhaps no example occurs 
 of more than one skeleton being found in one cell, and 
 in the cell in question was found but one ; agreeable, 
 in this, to the peculiarity of every other known cell 
 in Britain. Not the invention of one skeleton, then, 
 but of two, would have appeared suspicious and 
 uncommon. 
 
 But then, my Lord, to attempt to identify these, 
 when even to identify living men sometimes has 
 proved so difficult — as in the case of Perkin Warbeck 
 and Lambert Symnel at home, and of Don Sebastian 
 abroad — will be looked upon, perhaps, as an attempt 
 to determine what is indeterminable. And I hope, 
 1 Finding. 
 
104 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 too, it will not pass unconsidered here, where gentle- 
 men believe with caution, think with reason, and 
 decide with humanity, what interest the endeavour 
 to do this is calculated to serve, in assigning proper 
 personality to those bones, whose particular appro- 
 priation can only appear to eternal omniscience. 
 
 Permit me, my Lord, also, very humbly to remon- 
 strate that, as human bones appear to have been the 
 inseparable adjuncts of every cell, even any person's 
 naming such a place at random as containing them, 
 in this case, shows him rather unfortunate, than con- 
 scious prescient, and that these attendants on every 
 hermitage only accidentally concurred with this con- 
 jecture. A mere casual coincidence of tcords and things. 
 
 But it seems another skeleton has been discovered 
 by some labourer, w r hich was full as confidently 
 averred to be Clark's as this. My Lord, must some of 
 the living, if it promotes some interest, be made 
 answerable for all the bones that earth has concealed, 
 and chance exposed? and might not a place where 
 bones lay, be mentioned by a person by chance, as 
 well as found by a labourer by chance ? Or, is it more 
 criminal accidentally to name where bones lie, than 
 accidentally to find where they lie ? 
 
 Here, too, is a human skull produced, which is 
 fractured ; but was this the cause or was it the conse- 
 quence of death — was it owing to violence, or was it 
 the effect of natural decay ? If it was violence, was 
 that violence before or after death ? My Lord, in May, 
 1732, the remains of William, Lord Archbishop of this 
 province, were taken up by permission, in this cathe- 
 dral, and the bones of the skull were found broken ; 
 yet certainly he died by no violence offered to him 
 alive, that could occasion that fracture there. 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF EUGENE ARAM. 105 
 
 Let it be considered, my Lord, that upon the dissolu- 
 tion of religious houses, and the commencement of the 
 Reformation, the ravages of those times affected the 
 living and the dead. In search after imaginary 
 treasures, coffins were broken up, graves and vaults 
 broken open, monuments ransacked, and shrines de- 
 molished ; your Lordship knows that these violations 
 proceeded so far, as to occasion parliamentary authori- 
 ty to restrain them ; and it did, about the beginning 
 of the reign of Queen Elizabeth. I entreat your 
 Lordship, suffer not the violence, the depredations, 
 and the iniquities of these times to be imputed to 
 this. 
 
 Moreover, what gentleman here is ignorant that 
 Knaresborough had a castle, which, though now a 
 ruin, was once considerable, both for its strength and 
 garrison. All know it was vigorously besieged by 
 the arms of the Parliament. At which siege, in sallies, 
 conflicts, flights, pursuits, many fell in all the places 
 around it; and where they fell were buried. For 
 every place, my Lord, is burial-earth in war ; and 
 many, questionless, of these yet rest unknown, whose 
 bones futurity shall discover. 
 
 I hope, with all imaginable submission, that what 
 has been said will not be thought impertinent to this 
 indictment, and that it will be far from the wisdom, 
 the learning, and the integrity of this place to impute 
 to the living what zeal, in its fury, may have done; 
 what nature may have taken off, and piety interred ; 
 or what war alone may have destroyed, alone 
 deposited. 
 
 As to the circumstances that have been raked to- 
 gether, I have nothing to observe ; but that all cir- 
 cumstances whatsoever are precarious, and have been 
 
106 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 but too frequently found lamentably fallible ; even the 
 strongest have failed. They may rise to the utmost 
 degree of probability, yet they are but probability 
 still. Why should I name to your Lordship the two 
 Harrisons, recorded in Dr. Howel, who both suffered 
 upon circumstances, because of the sudden disap- 
 pearance of their lodger, who was in credit, had 
 contracted debts, borrowed money, and went off 
 unseen, and returned again a great many years after 
 their execution. Why name the intricate affair of 
 Jaques du Moulin under King Charles II., related by 
 a gentleman who was counsel for the Crown. And 
 why the unhappy Coleman, who suffered innocent, 
 though convicted upon positive evidence, and whose 
 children perished for want, because the world un- 
 charitably believed the father guilty. Why mention 
 the perjury of Smith, incautiously admitted king's 
 evidence; who, to screen himself, equally accused 
 Fainlotte and Loveday of the murder of Dunn ; the 
 first of whom, in 1749, was executed at Winchester ; 
 and Loveday was about to suffer at Reading, had not 
 Smith been proved perjured, to the satisfaction of the 
 court, by the surgeon of Gosport Hospital. 
 
 Now, my Lord, having endeavoured to show that 
 the whole of this process is altogether repugnant to 
 every part of my life ; that it is inconsistent with my 
 condition of health about that time ; that no rational 
 inference can be drawn that a person is dead who 
 suddenly disappears ; that hermitages were the con- 
 stant repositories of the bones of the recluse ; that 
 the proofs of this are well authenticated; that the 
 revolution in religion, or the fortunes of war, has 
 mangled, or buried, the dead ; the conclusion re- 
 mains, perhaps no less reasonably, than impatiently, 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF EUGENE ARAM. 107 
 
 wished for. I, last, after a year's confinement, equal 
 to either fortune, put myself upon the candour, the 
 justice, and the humanity of your Lordship, and upon 
 yours, my countrymen, gentlemen of the jury.' 
 
 It will be seen from this elaborate defence that it 
 must have been written long before his trial, and be- 
 fore his hopes of acquittal were crushed by the 
 appearance of Houseman in the witness-box to give 
 evidence against him ; for he did not attempt to dis- 
 credit his evidence, nor did he attempt to shake 
 his testimony by cross-examination, and he must 
 have anticipated the result. The judge summed 
 up carefully ; he recapitulated the evidence, and 
 showed how Houseman's testimony was confirmed by 
 the other witnesses ; and, taking Aram's defence, he 
 pointed out that he had alleged nothing that could 
 invalidate the positive evidence against him. The 
 jury, without leaving the court, returned a verdict 
 of * Guilty,' and the judge pronounced the awful 
 sentence of the law. Aram had behaved with great 
 firmness and dignity during the whole of his trial, and 
 he heard his conviction, and his doom, with profound 
 composure, leaving the bar with a smile upon his 
 countenance. 
 
 In those days the law allowed but little time for 
 appeal. Aram was tried, convicted, and sentenced on 
 Friday, the 3rd of August, 1759, and he had to die 
 on the following Monday — only two whole days of 
 life being allowed him. Those days must have been 
 days of exquisite torture to him, when he thought 
 of the upturned faces of the mob, all fixing their gaze 
 upon him, yelling at, and execrating him, and we can 
 scarcely wonder at his attempting to commit suicide. 
 On the Monday morning, when the clergyman came 
 
108 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 to visit him, and at his request to administer the 
 Sacrament to him, he was astonished to find Aram 
 stretched on the floor of his cell in a pool of blood. 
 He had managed to secrete a razor, and had cut the 
 veins of his arms in two places. Surgeons were 
 sent for, and they brought him back to life, when he 
 was put into the cart and led to execution. Arrived 
 at the gallows, he was asked if he had any speech to 
 make, and he replied in the negative. He was then 
 hanged, and, when dead, his body was cut down, 
 put in a cart, taken to Knaresborough, and there 
 suspended in chains, on a gibbet which was erected 
 on Knaresborough forest, south or south-east of the 
 Low Bridge, on the right hand side going thence to 
 Plumpton. It was taken down in 1778, when the 
 forest was enclosed. 
 
 He left his latest thoughts in writing, for, on the 
 table in his cell, was found a paper on which was 
 written, 
 
 ' What am I better than my fathers ? To die is 
 natural and necessary. Perfectly sensible of this, 
 I fear no more to die than I did to be born. But the 
 manner of it is something which should, in my 
 opinion, be decent and manly. I think I have re- 
 garded both these points. Certainly nobody has a 
 better right to dispose of man's life than himself; and 
 he, not others, should determine how. As for any 
 indignities offered to anybody, or silly reflections on 
 my faith and morals, they are (as they were) things 
 indifferent to me. I think, though, contrary to the 
 common way of thinking ; I wrong no man by this, 
 and I hope it is not offensive to that eternal being 
 who formed me and the world ; and as by this I 
 injure no man, no man can be reasonably offended. 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF EUGENE ARAM. 109 
 
 I solicitously recommend myself to the eternal and 
 almighty Being, the God of Nature, if I have done 
 amiss. But perhaps I have not, and I hope this 
 thing will never be imputed to me. Though I am 
 now stained by malevolence, and suffer by prejudice, 
 I hope to rise fair and unblemished. My life was not 
 polluted, my morals irreproachable, and my opinions 
 orthodox. 
 
 ■ 1 slept soundly till three o'clock, awak'd, and then 
 writ these lines. 
 
 ' " Come, pleasing Rest, eternal Slumber fall ; 
 Seal mine, that once must seal the eyes of all ; 
 Calm and compos'd my soul her journey takes, 
 No guilt that troubles, and no heart that aches. 
 Adieu ! thou sun, all bright like her arise ; 
 Adieu ! fair friends, and all that's good and wise." ' 
 
 Aram never made any regular confession of his 
 guilt — but in a letter he wrote to the vicar of 
 Knaresborough, in which he gives his autobiography, 
 he says, ' Something is expected as to the affair 
 upon which I was committed, to which I say, as 
 I mentioned in my examination, that all the plate 
 of Knaresborough, except the watches and rings, 
 were in Houseman's possession ; as for me, I had 
 nothing at all. My wife knows that Terry had the 
 large plate, and that Houseman himself took both 
 that and the watches, at my house, from Clark's 
 own hands ; and, if she will not give this in evidence 
 for the town, she wrongs both that and her own 
 conscience; and, if it is not done soon, Houseman 
 will prevent her. She likewise knows that Terry's 
 wife had some velvet, and, if she will, can testify 
 it. She deserves not the regard of the town, if she 
 will not. That part of Houseman's evidence, wherein 
 
110 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 he said I threatened him, was absolutely false; for 
 what hindered him, when I was so long absent and 
 far distant ! I must need observe another thing to 
 be perjury in Houseman's evidence, in which he 
 said he went home from Clark ; whereas he went 
 straight to my house, as my wife can also testify, if 
 I be not believed/ 
 
 The contemporary accounts of his trial, whether 
 published in York or London, have the following : 
 
 ' Aram's sentence was a just one, and he sub- 
 mitted to it with that stoicism he so much affected ; 
 and the morning after he was condemned, he con- 
 fessed the justness of it to two clergymen (who had 
 a licence from the judge to attend him), by declaring 
 that he murdered Clark. Being asked by one of 
 them what his motive was for doing that abominable 
 action, he told them, * he suspected Clark of having 
 an unlawful commerce with his wife ; that he was 
 persuaded at the time, when he committed the mur- 
 der, he did right, but, since, he had thought it wrong.' 
 
 ' After this, pray,' said Aram, ' what became of 
 Clark's body, if Houseman went home (as he said 
 upon my trial) immediately on seeing him fall V 
 
 One of the clergymen replied, ' I'll tell you what 
 became of it. You and Houseman dragged it into 
 the cave, stripped and buried it there ; brought away 
 his clothes, and burnt them at your own house.' 
 
 To which he assented. He was asked whether 
 Houseman did not earnestly press him to murder 
 his wife, for fear she should discover the business 
 they had been about. He hastily replied, 
 
 ' He did, and pressed me several times to do it/ 
 
 Aram's wife lived some years after his execution ; 
 indeed, she did not die until 1774. She lived in a 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF EUGENE ARAM. Ill 
 
 small house near Low Bridge, within sight of her 
 husband's gibbet ; and here she sold pies, sausages, 
 &c. It is said that she used to search under the 
 gibbet for any of her husband's bones that might 
 have fallen, and then bury them. 
 
 Aram, by his wife, had six children, who survived 
 their childhood — three sons and three daughters. 
 All these children, save one, Sally, took after their 
 mother; but Sally resembled her father, both physic- 
 ally and mentally. She was well read in the classics, 
 and Aram would sometimes put his scholars to the 
 blush, by having Sally in their class. Her father 
 was very fond of her, and she was living with him 
 at Lynn when he was arrested, and she clung to 
 him when in prison at York. On his death, she went 
 to London, and, after a time, she married, and, with 
 her husband, kept a public-house on the Surrey side 
 of Westminster Bridge. 
 
 Houseman went back to Knaresborough, where he 
 abode until his death. He was naturally mobbed, 
 and never dared stir out in the day time, but some- 
 times slunk out at night. Despised and detested by 
 all, his life must have been a burden to him, and his 
 punishment in this world far heavier than Aram was 
 called upon to bear. 
 
112 
 
 REDEMPTIONERS. 
 
 LAVERY, properly so called, appears to 
 have been from the earliest ages, and in 
 almost every country, the condition of 
 a large portion of the human race ; the 
 weakest had ever to serve the strong — 
 whether the slave was a captive in battle, or an impecuni- 
 ous debtor unable to satisfy the claims of his creditor, 
 save with his body. Climate made no difference. 
 Slavery existed in Europe, Asia, and Africa, and in 
 our own 'right little, tight little island,' our early 
 annals show that a large proportion of the Anglo- 
 Saxon population was in a state of slavery. These 
 unfortunate bondsmen, who were called theows, 
 throels, and esnes, 1 were bought and sold with land, 
 and were classed in the inventory of their lord's 
 wealth, with his sheep, swine, and oxen, and were 
 bequeathed by will, precisely as we now dispose of 
 our money, or furniture. 
 
 The condition of the Anglo-Saxon slaves was very 
 degraded indeed ; their master might put them in 
 bonds, might whip them, nay, might even brand 
 them, like cattle, with his own distinguishing mark, a 
 
 1 The esne was a man of the servile class, a poor mercenary, 
 serving for hire, or for his land, but was not of so low a rank as 
 the other classes. 
 
REDEMPTIONERS. 113 
 
 state of things which existed until Alfred the Great 
 enacted some laws, whereby the time of the servitude 
 of these unhappy people was limited to six years, 
 and the institution of slavery received such a blow, 
 that it speedily became a thing of the past. They 
 were no longer slaves, but redemptioners, i.e., they 
 had the hope of redemption from servitude, and the 
 law gave them the power to enforce their freedom. 
 
 We have only to turn to the pages of holy writ to 
 find slavery flourishing in rank luxuriance in the 
 time of the patriarchs, and before the birth of Moses. 
 Euphemistically described in Scripture history as 
 servants, they were mostly unconditional and per- 
 petual slaves. They were strangers, either taken 
 prisoners in war or purchased from the neighbouring 
 nations; but the Jews also had a class of servants 
 who only were in compulsory bondage for a limited 
 time, and they were men of their own nation. 
 
 These were men who, by reason of their poverty, 
 were obliged to give their bodies in exchange for the 
 wherewithal to support them, or they were insolvent 
 debtors, and thus sought to liquidate their indebted- 
 ness, or men who had committed a theft, and had not 
 the means of making the double, or fourfold, restitu- 
 tion that the law required. Their thraldom was not 
 perpetual, they might be redeemed, and, if not re- 
 deemed, they became free on the completion of their 
 seventh year of servitude. 
 
 Exodus, chap. 21, vv. 2 — 6. 'If thou buy an 
 Hebrew servant, six years shall he serve : and in the 
 seventh he shall go out free for nothing. If he came 
 in by himself, he shall go out by himself; if he were 
 married, then his wife shall go out with him. If his 
 master have given him a wife, and she have borne 
 
 I 
 
114 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 him sons or daughters, the wife and her children 
 shall be her master's, and he shall go out by himself. 
 And if the servant shall plainly say, I love my master, 
 my wife, and my children : I will not go out free : 
 then his master shall bring him unto the judges ; he 
 shall also bring him to the door, or unto the door- 
 post ; and his master shall bore his ear through with 
 an awl, and he shall serve for ever.' 
 
 Here, then, we have a redemptioner, one whose 
 servitude was not a hopeless one, and we find this 
 limited bondage again referred to in Leviticus, chap. 
 25, vv. 39, 40, 41. 
 
 ■ And if thy brother that dwelleth by thee be waxen 
 poor, and be sold unto thee, thou shalt not compel 
 him to serve as a bond servant : but as an hired ser- 
 vant, and as a sojourner, he shall be with thee, and 
 shall serve thee unto the year of jubilee. And then 
 shall he depart from thee, both he and his children 
 with him, and shall return unto his own family, and 
 unto the possession of his fathers shall he return.' 
 
 Here in England we are accustomed to look upon 
 the slave from one point of view only, as an unhappy 
 being of a different race and colour to ourselves, few 
 of us knowing that there has been a time (and that 
 not so very long ago ) when members of our own 
 nation, so utterly forlorn and miserable from the rude 
 buffe tings Fortune had given them in their way 
 through the world, have been glad to sell their bodies 
 for a time, to enable them to commence afresh the 
 struggle for existence, in another land, and, perchance, 
 under more favourable circumstances. 
 
 In 'his Majesty's plantations' of Virginia, Mary- 
 land, and New England, and in the West Indies, 
 these unfortunates were first called servants, and as 
 
REDEMPTIONERS. 115 
 
 such are officially described ; but in America in later 
 times they received the appellation of redemptioners, 
 a name by which they were certainly called in the 
 middle of this century, for in Dorsey's ' Laws of 
 Maryland/ published in 1840, we find an Act l (cap. 
 226) was passed in 1817 to alleviate the condition of 
 these poor people. The preamble sets forth, ' Whereas 
 it has been found that German and Swiss emigrants, 
 who for the discharge of the debt contracted for 
 their passage to this country are often obliged to 
 subject themselves to temporary servitude, are 
 frequently exposed to cruel and oppressive imposi- 
 tions by the masters of the vessels in which they 
 arrive, and likewise by those to whom they become 
 servants/ &c. 
 
 It is impossible to fix any date when this iniquitous 
 traffic first began. It arose, probably, from the want 
 of labourers in the plantations of our colonies in their 
 early days, and the employment of unscrupulous 
 agents on this side to supply their needs in this 
 respect. A man in pecuniary difficulties in the seven- 
 teenth and eighteen centuries was indeed in woeful 
 plight : a gaol was his certain destination, and there 
 he might rot his life away, cut off from all hope of 
 release, unless death came mercifully to his relief. 
 All knew of the horrors of a debtor's prison, and, to 
 escape them, an able-bodied man had recourse to the 
 dreadful expedient of selling himself into bondage, 
 for a term of years, in one of the plantations, either in 
 America or the West Indies, or he would believe the 
 specious tales of the ' kidnappers/ as they were called, 
 who would promise anything, a free passage, and a, 
 glorious life of ease and prosperity in a new land. 
 1 An Act relative to German and Swiss redemptioners. 
 
 i2 
 
116 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Thoroughly broken down, wretched, and miserable, 
 his thoughts would naturally turn towards a new 
 country, wherein he might rehabilitate himself, and, in 
 an evil hour, he would apply to some (as we should 
 term it) emigration agent, who would even kindly 
 advance him a trifle for an outfit. The voyage out 
 would be an unhappy experience, as the emigrants 
 would be huddled together, with scant food, and, on 
 his arrival at his destination, he would early discover 
 the further miseries in store for him ; for, immediately 
 on landing, or even before he left the ship, his body 
 would be seized as security for passage money, which 
 had, in all probability, been promised him free, and 
 for money lent for his outfit ; and, having no means 
 of paying either, utterly friendless, and in a strange 
 country, he would be sold to slavery for a term of 
 years to some planter who would pay the debt for 
 him. 
 
 Having obtained his flesh and blood at such a 
 cheap rate, his owner would not part with him 
 lightly, and it was an easy thing to arrange matters 
 so that he was always kept in debt for clothes and 
 tobacco, <fec., in order that he never should free him- 
 self. It was a far cry to England, and with no one 
 to help him, or to draw public attention to his case, 
 the poor wretch had to linger until death mercifully 
 released him from his bondage ; his condition being 
 truly deplorable, as he would be under the same 
 regulations as the convicts, and one may be very 
 sure that their lot was not enviable in those harsh 
 and merciless times. It was not for many years, 
 until the beginning of this century, that the Ameri- 
 can laws took a beneficial turn in favour of these 
 unhappy people; and it was then too late, for the 
 
REDEMPTIONERS. 117 
 
 institution of redemptioners died a speedy death, 
 owing to the influx of free emigration. 
 
 One of the earliest notices of these unfortunates is 
 in a collection of Old Black letter ballads, in the 
 British Museum, where there is one entitled, 'The 
 Trappan'd Maiden, or the Distressed Damsel/ 
 3 Tsf 2 > 1TL wn i ca are depicted some of the sorrows 
 which were undergone by these unwilling emigrants, 
 at that time. The date, as nearly as can be assigned 
 to it, is about 1670. 
 
 The Girl was cunningly trapan'd, 
 Sent to Virginny from England ; 
 Where she doth Hardship undergo, 
 There is no cure, it must be so ; 
 But if she lives to cross the main, 
 She vows she'll ne'er go there again. 
 
 Give ear unto a Maid 
 
 That lately was betray' d, 
 
 And sent into Virginny, O : 
 
 In brief I shall declare, 
 
 What I have suffered there, 
 
 When that I was weary, 0. 
 
 When that first I came 
 
 To this Land of Fame, 
 
 Which is called Virginny, O : 
 
 The Axe and the Hoe 
 
 Have wrought my overthrow, 
 
 When that I was weary, O. 
 
 Five years served I 
 
 Under Master Guy, 
 
 In the land of Virginny, O : 
 
 Which made me for to know 
 
 Sorrow, Grief, and Woe, 
 
 When that I was weary, 0. 
 
118 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 When my Dame says, Go, 
 Then must I do so, 
 In the land of Virginny, : 
 When she sits at meat 
 Then I have none to eat, 
 When that I was weary, 0. 
 The cloathes that I brought in, 
 They are worn very thin, 
 In the land of Virginny, : 
 Which makes me for to say 
 Alas ! and well-a-day, 
 When that I was weary, 0. 
 Instead of Beds of Ease, 
 To lye down when I please, 
 In the land of Virginny, : 
 Upon a bed of straw, 
 I lay down full of woe, 
 When that I was weary, 0. 
 Then the Spider, she 
 Daily waits on me, 
 In the land of Virginny, : 
 Round about my bed 
 She spins her tender web, 
 When that I was weary, 0. 
 So soon as it is day, 
 To work I must away, 
 In the land of Virginny, O : 
 Then my Dame she knocks 
 With her tinder-box, 
 When that I was weary, O. 
 I have played my part 
 Both at Plow and Cart, 
 In the land of Virginny, O ; 
 Billats from the Wood, 
 Upon my back they load, 
 When that I was weary, 0. 
 
REDEMPTIONERS. 119 
 
 Instead of drinking Beer, 
 
 I drink the waters clear, 
 
 In the land of Virginny, ; 
 
 Which makes me pale and wan, 
 
 Do all that e'er I can, 
 
 When that I was weary, 0. 
 
 If my Dame says, Go, 
 
 I dare not say no, 
 
 In the land of Virginny, O ; 
 
 The water from the spring 
 
 Upon my head I bring, 
 
 When that I was weary, 0. 
 
 When the Mill doth stand, 
 
 I'm ready at command, 
 
 In the land of Virginny, O ; 
 
 The Morter for to make, 
 
 Which made my heart to ake, 
 
 When that I was weary, O. 
 
 When the child doth cry, 
 
 I must sing, By-a-by, 
 
 In the land of Virginny, ; 
 
 No rest that I can have 
 
 Whilst I am here a slave, 
 
 When that I was weary, 0. 
 
 A thousand Woes beside, 
 
 That I do here abide, 
 
 In the land of Virginny, ; 
 
 In misery 1 spend 
 
 My time that hath no end, 
 
 When that I was weary, O. 
 
 Then let Maids beware, 
 
 All by my ill-fare, 
 
 In the land of Virginny, : 
 
 Be sure thou stay at home, 
 
 For if you do here come, 
 
 You will all be weary, O. 
 
120 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 But if it be my chance, 
 
 Homeward to advance, 
 
 From the land of Virginny, O : 
 
 If that I once more 
 
 Land on English shore, 
 
 I'll no more be weary, O. 
 
 Some of these complaints would seem to us to be 
 rather of the ' crumpled rose-leaf order, but pro- 
 bably there was enough humanity left in their owners 
 to treat their female ' servants ' more tenderly than 
 the male, whose sorrows were genuine enough. 
 
 Ned Ward, in his 'London Spy,' 1703, gives a 
 most graphic account of the sort of men who enticed 
 these human chattels to the plantations. He was 
 pursuing his perambulations about the City, exercis- 
 ing those sharp eyes of his, which saw everything, 
 and was in the neighbourhood of the Custom-house, 
 when he turned down a place called Pig Hill (so 
 called, he says, from its resembling the steep descent 
 down which the Devil drove his Hogs to a Bad 
 Market). 
 
 1 As we walked up the Hill, as Lazily as an Artillery 
 Captain before his Company upon a Lord Mayor's 
 Day, or a Paul's Labourer up a Ladder, with a Hod 
 of Mortar, we peeped in at a Gateway, where we 
 saw two or three Blades, well drest, but with 
 Hawkes' Countenances, attended with half-a-dozen 
 Kagamuffingly Fellows, showing Poverty in their 
 Kags and Despair in their Faces, mixt with a parcel 
 of young, wild striplings, like runaway 'Prentices. 
 I could not forbear enquiring of my Friend about 
 the ill-favoured multitude, patched up of such awk- 
 ward Figures, that it would have puzzled a Moor- 
 
REBEMPTIONERS. 121 
 
 Fields Artist, 1 well-read in physiognomy, to have 
 discovered their Dispositions by their Looks. 
 
 ' < " That House," says my Friend, " which they 
 there are entering is an Office where Servants for 
 the Plantations bind themselves to be miserable as 
 long as they live, without a special Providence pre- 
 vents it. Those fine Fellows, who look like Foot- 
 men upon a Holy day, crept into cast suits of their 
 Masters, that want Gentility in their Deportments 
 answerable to their Apparel, are Kidnappers, who 
 walk the 'Change and other parts of the Town, in 
 order to seduce People who want services and young 
 Fools crost in Love, and under an uneasiness of 
 mind, to go beyond the seas, getting so much a 
 head of Masters of Ships and Merchants who go 
 over, for every Wretch they trepan into this Misery. 
 These young Rakes and Tatterdemallions you see 
 so lovingly bearded are drawn by their fair promises 
 to sell themselves into Slavery, and the Kidnappers 
 are the Rogues that run away with the Money." ' 
 
 And again, when he goes on 'Change, he further 
 attacks these villains. 
 
 '"Now," says my Friend, "we are got amongst 
 the Plantation Traders. This may be call'd Kid- 
 napper's Walk ; for a great many of these Jamaicans 
 and Barbadians, with their Kitchen-stuff Counten- 
 ances, are looking as sharp for servants as a Gang 
 of Pick-pockets for Booty .... Within that Entry 
 is an Office of Intelligence, pretending to help 
 Servants to Places, and Masters to Servants. They 
 have a knack of Bubbling silly wenches out of their 
 Money ; who loiter hereabouts upon the expectancy, 
 
 1 Bedlam was then in Moorfields. 
 
122 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 till they are pick'd up by the Plantation Kidnappers, 
 and spirited away into a state of misery." ' 
 
 And yet once more Ward, in his * Trip to America/ 
 says, 
 
 ' We had on board an Irishman going over as 
 Servant, who, I suppose, was Kidnapped. I asked 
 him whose Servant he was, " By my Fait," said he, 
 " 1 cannot tell. I was upon 'Change, looking for a 
 good Master, and a brave Gentleman came to me, 
 and asked me who I was, and I told him I was 
 myn own self; and he gave me some good Wine 
 and good Ale, and brought me on Board, and I have 
 not seen him since." ' 
 
 Then, as since, the emigration from Great Britain 
 was mostly fed by the poorer classes of Ireland ; 
 and, in the latter part of William III.'s reign, such 
 was the numbers that were sent over to the planta- 
 tions as * servants,' or in other words, slaves, that 
 it was found necessary to enact special laws, in 
 Maryland, to check the excessive importation, it 
 being considered a source of danger to the State, 
 as tending to introduce Popery. Accordingly, several 
 acts were passed, placing a duty of twenty shillings 
 per head on each Irish person landed ; which, prov- 
 ing insufficient for the purpose, was further increased 
 to forty shillings a few years afterwards. 
 
 In 1743, there was a cause celebre, in which James 
 Annesley, Esq., appeared as the plaintiff, and claimed 
 the earldom of Anglesey from his uncle Richard, 
 who, he maintained (and he got a verdict in his 
 favour), had caused him to be kidnapped when a lad 
 of thirteen years of age, and sent to America, there 
 to be sold as a slave. That this was absolutely 
 the fact, no one who has read the evidence can 
 
REDEMPTIONERS. 123 
 
 possibly doubt, and the hardships endured by the 
 ' servants ' at that time are plaintively alluded to 
 in a little book, called, * The Adventure of an Un- 
 fortunate Young Nobleman,' published 1743. 'Here 
 the Captain repeating his former Assurances, he was 
 sold to a rich Planter in Newcastle County called 
 Drummond, who immediately took him home, and 
 entered him in the Number of his Slaves. 
 
 'A new World now opened to him, and, being 
 set to the felling of Timber, a Work no way pro- 
 portioned to his Strength, he did it so awkwardly, 
 that he was severely corrected. Drummond was a 
 hard, inexorable Master, who, like too many of the 
 Planters, consider their Slaves, or Servants, as a 
 different Species, and use them accordingly. Our 
 American Planters are not famous for Humanity, 
 being often Persons of no Education, and, having 
 been formerly Slaves themselves, they revenge the 
 ill-usage they received on those who fall into their 
 Hands. The Condition of European Servants in 
 that Climate is very wretched ; their Work is hard, 
 and for the most part abroad, exposed to an un- 
 wholesome Air, their Diet coarse, being either Poul 
 or bread made of Indian Corn, or Homine or Mush, 
 which is Meal made of the same kind, moistened 
 with the Fat of Bacon, and their Drink Water sweet- 
 ened with a little Ginger and Molasses.' 
 
 Although, as before stated, Mr. Annesley won his 
 case with regard to his legitimacy and property, for 
 some reason or other he never contested the title with 
 his usurping uncle, who continued to be recognized 
 as Earl of Anglesey until his death. 
 
 Defoe, writing in 1738 in his * History of Colonel 
 Jack,' makes his hero to be kidnapped by the master 
 
121 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 of a vessel at Leith, and carried to Virginia, where 
 he was consigned to a merchant, and disposed of as 
 he saw fit — in fact, treated with the same nonchalance 
 as an ordinary bale of goods would be. He was sold 
 to a planter for five years, and had three hard things 
 to endure, viz., hard work, hard fare, and hard lodg- 
 ing. He describes the arrival of a ship from London 
 with several ' servants/ and amongst the rest were 
 seventeen transported felons, some burnt in the hand, 
 and some not, eight of whom his master purchased 
 for the time specified in the warrant for their trans- 
 portation, so that the unfortunate men were in no 
 better position than, and were under the same severe 
 laws as, the convict. Their ranks were recruited by 
 many gentlemen concerned in the Rebellion, and 
 taken prisoners at Preston, who were spared from 
 execution and sold into slavery at the plantations, a 
 condition which must often have made them dissatis- 
 fied with the clemency extended to them. In many 
 cases, with kind masters, their lot was not so hard, 
 and when their time of bondage was expired they 
 had encouragement given them to plant for them- 
 selves, a certain number of acres being allotted to 
 them by the State ; and, if they could get the neces- 
 sary credit for clothes, tools, &c, they were in time 
 enabled to put by money, and, in some rare instances, 
 became men of renown in the colony. 
 
 The usage these poor people endured on their 
 passage to the plantations was frequently abominable, 
 and a writer in 1796 describes the arrival, at Balti- 
 more, of a vessel containing three hundred Irish 
 'passengers' who had been nearly starved by the 
 captain, the ship's water being sold by him at so 
 much a pint, and this treatment, combined with other 
 
REDEMPTIONERS. 125 
 
 cruelties too shocking to relate, caused a contagious 
 disorder to break out on board, which carried off great 
 numbers, whilst most of these unhappy folk who 
 were spared at that time, subsequently died whilst 
 performing quarantine in the Delaware. 
 
 The redemptioners mainly sailed from the northern 
 ports of Ireland, Belfast or Londonderry, though 
 this country by no means enjoyed the unenviable 
 monopoly of this traffic : Holland and Germany send- 
 ing their wretched quota of white slaves. The par- 
 ticular class of vessels employed in this iniquitous 
 trade were known by the name of ' White Guinea- 
 men,' and belonged to the 'free and enlightened' 
 citizens of the sea-ports in America, who had their 
 kidnappers stationed at certain parts of Scotland, 
 Ireland, Wales, and also in Holland, to provide them 
 with human cargoes. Seduced by the glowing 
 descriptions of a trans-Atlantic paradise, with bright 
 and alluring visions of American happiness and 
 liberty, the miserable, the idle, and the unwary 
 among the lower classes of Europe were entrapped 
 into the voyage, the offer of gratuitous conveyance 
 being an additional bait, which was eagerly accept- 
 ed ; but we have seen how, on their arrival at the 
 promised land, they were speedily disillusioned. The 
 difficulty of hiring tolerable servants was so great, 
 that many persons were obliged to deal with their 
 fellow-creatures in this way, who would otherwise 
 have utterly abhorred the thought of being slave- 
 dealers. 
 
 Some of the laws for their regulation in the 
 colonies are curious. For instance, in Virginia, after 
 they had served their time, they were obliged to have 
 a certificate from their master to say that they had 
 
126 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 done so, and if any person should entertain any hired 
 servant running away without such a certificate, he 
 had to pay the master of such servant thirty pounds 
 weight of tobacco for every day and night he should 
 so harbour him. 
 
 Pursuit after runaway servants was made at the 
 public expense, and, if caught, they had to serve for 
 the time of their absence, and the charge disbursed. 
 In case the master refused to pay the charge, the 
 servant was sold, or hired out, until by their services 
 they had reimbursed the amount expended in captur- 
 ing them, after which they were returned to their 
 master to serve out their time. Whoever apprehend- 
 ed them was to have as reward two hundred pounds 
 weight of tobacco, if the capture took place about 
 ten miles from the master's house, or one hundred 
 pounds weight if above five miles, and under ten. 
 This reward was to be paid by the public, and the 
 servant had to serve some one four months for every 
 two hundred pounds weight of tobacco paid for him. 
 
 1 Every Master that hath a Servant that hath run 
 away twice, shall keep his Hair close cut, and not so 
 doing, shall be fined one hundred pounds weight of 
 Tobacco for every time the said Fugitive shall, after 
 the second time, be taken up.' 
 
 If they ran away in company with any negro, then 
 they had to serve the master of that negro as long as 
 the negro was at large. If any servant laid violent 
 hands on his master, mistress, or overseer, and was 
 convicted of the same in any court, he had to serve 
 one year longer at the expiration of his term. 
 
 'A Woman-servant got with Child by her Master, 
 shall, after her time of indenture or custom is expired, 
 be, by the Church- wardens of the Parish where she 
 
REDEMPTIONERS. 127 
 
 lived, sold for two Years, and the Tobacco employed 
 for the use of the Parish.' 
 
 ' No Minister shall publish the Banns, or celebrate 
 the Contract of Marriage between any Servants, un- 
 less he hath a Certificate from both their Masters that 
 it is with their consent, under the Penalty of 10,000 
 lbs. of Tobacco. And the Servants that procure 
 themselves to be married without their Masters' con- 
 sent, shall each of them serve their respective Master 
 a year longer than their time ; and if any person, 
 being free, shall marry with a Servant without the 
 Master's Licence, he or she so marrying shall pay the 
 Master 1500 lbs. of Tobacco, or one year's service.' 
 
 In Maryland, the laws respecting servants were 
 somewhat milder, but, if they ran away, they had to 
 serve ten days for every one day's absence. In this 
 colony, however, * Every Man-Servant shall have 
 given him at the time of the expiration of his Service, 
 one new Hat, a good Cloath Suit, a new Shift of 
 White Linnen, a pair of new French full Shooes and 
 Stockings, two Hoes, and one Axe, and one gun of 
 20s. price, not above four foot Barrel, nor less than 
 three and a half. And every Woman-Servant shall 
 have given her, at the expiration of her Servitude, the 
 like Provision of Cloaths, and three Barrels of Indian 
 Corn.' 
 
 In New England they dealt still more tenderly and 
 fairly by their servants. If a servant fled from the 
 cruelty of his or her master, he or she was to be pro- 
 tected and harboured, provided that they fled to the 
 house of some free man of the same town, and ' If any 
 Man or Woman Hurt, Maim, or Disfigure a Servant, 
 unless it be by meer Casualty, the Servant shall go 
 free, and the Master or Mistress shall make such re- 
 
128 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 compense as the Court shall award. Servants that 
 have serv'd diligently, and faithfully, to the end of 
 their Times, shall not be sent away empty ; and such 
 as have been unfaithful, negligent, or unprofitable 
 shall not be sent away unpunished, but shall make 
 such satisfaction as Authority shall direct.' 
 
 In Jamaica the laws were pretty fair, and in Barba- 
 does there was a very just enactment. * Whatever 
 Master or Mistress shall turn off a Sick Servant, or 
 not use, or endeavour, all lawful means for the recov- 
 ery of such servant, during the time of Servitude, he 
 or she shall forfeit 2,200 lbs of Sugar. To be levyed 
 by Warrant of a Justice of Peace, and disposed to- 
 wards the maintenance of such Servant, and the said 
 Servant so neglected, or turned off, shall be Free.' 
 
 In the last few years of the eighteenth century, it 
 was no uncommon thing to meet with advertisements 
 in the American papers, couched in the following 
 strain : i To be disposed of, the indentures of a strong, 
 healthy Irishwoman ; who has two years to serve, 
 and is fit for all kinds of house work. Enquire of the 
 Printer.' 
 
 < STOP THE VILLAIN ! 
 
 ' Ran away this morning, an Irish Servant, named 
 Michael Day, by trade a Tailor, about five feet eight 
 inches high, fair complexion, has a down look when 
 spoken to, light bushy hair, speaks much in the Irish 
 dialect, &c. Whoever secures the above-described 
 in any gaol, shall receive thirty dollars reward, and 
 all reasonable charges paid. N.B. — All masters of 
 Vessels are forbid harbouring or carrying off the said 
 Servant at their peril.' 
 
 The laws which regulated them were originally 
 
REDEMPT10NERS. 129 
 
 framed for the English convicts before the Revolution, 
 and were not repealed. They were, of necessity, 
 harsh and severe, so much so that, towards the end of 
 the eighteenth century, several societies sprang up, 
 both Irish and German, whose members did all in 
 their power to mitigate the severity of these laws, 
 and render their countrymen, during their servitude, 
 as comfortable as circumstances would permit. These 
 societies were in all the large towns south of Connec- 
 ticut. 
 
 When the yellow fever was raging in Baltimore 
 in the year 1793, but few vessels would venture near 
 the city, and every one that could do so fled from the 
 doomed place. But a ' White Guinea-man,' from 
 Germany, arrived in the river, and, hearing that such 
 was the fatal nature of the infection that for no sum 
 of money could a sufficient number of nurses bo pro- 
 cured to attend the sick, conceived the philanthropic 
 idea of supplying this deficiency from his redemption 
 passengers, and, sailing boldly up to the city, he ad- 
 vertised his cargo for sale thus : * A few healthy Ser- 
 vants, generally between seventeen and twenty-one 
 years of age ; their times will be disposed of by apply- 
 ing on board the brig.' It was a truly generous 
 thought to thus nobly sacrifice his own countrywomen 
 pro bono publico! 
 
 As the eighteenth century drew to a close a more 
 humane state of things came into existence ; and in 
 Maryland, in 1817, as before stated, a law was passed 
 for the relief of the German and Swiss redemptioners. 
 It was enacted that there should be, in every port, a 
 person to register the apprenticeship, or servitude, of 
 these emigrants, and, unless drawn up or approved 
 by him, no agreement to service was binding. Minors, 
 
 K 
 
130 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 under twenty-one, were not allowed to be sold, unless 
 by their parents or next-of-kin, and the indentures 
 covenanted that at least two months schooling must 
 be given, annually, to them by their masters. No 
 emigrant was bound to serve more than four years, 
 except males under seventeen, and females under 
 fourteen, who were to serve, respectively, till twenty- 
 one and eighteen. There were many other clauses 
 that related both to their better treatment on board the 
 vessels and on land, and, if this law had been strictly 
 acted up to, the condition of these poor people would 
 have been much ameliorated. 
 
 But, happily, in course of years, as the prosperity 
 of the United States of America grew by ' leaps and 
 bounds,' attracting labour in abundance from all parts 
 of Europe, there was no longer any need for the 
 traffic in human flesh and blood, and the redemp- 
 tioner became a thing of the past. 
 
181 
 
 A TRIP TO RICHMOND IN SURREY. 
 
 HE following morceau gives so quaint an 
 account of a day's outing in the last 
 century that I have thought it a pity 
 to let it remain buried. It is by J. 
 West, and was published in 1787 : 
 
 From London to Richmond I took an excursion, 
 
 For the sake of my health and in hopes of diversion : 
 
 Thus, walking without any cumbersome load, 
 
 I mark'd ev'ry singular sight on the road. 
 
 In Hyde Park I met a hump-back'd macarony 
 
 Who was pleased I should see how he manag'd his pony. 
 
 The Cockney was dresst in true blue and in buff, 
 
 In buckskin elastic, but all in the rough ; 
 
 He wore patent spurs on his boots, with light soles, 
 
 And buttons as big as some halfpenny rolls ; 
 
 His hair out of curls, with a tail like a rat, 
 
 And sideways he clapt on his head a round hat ; 
 
 His cravat was tied up in a monstrous large bunch, 
 
 No wonder the ladies should smile at his hunch. 
 
 The next figure I saw, 'twas a milliner's maid, 
 
 A high cap and pink ribbons adorning her head, 
 
 Which was made to sit well, but a little fantastic, 
 
 With a hundred black pins and a cushion elastic. 
 
 She stalked like a peacock when waving her fan, 
 
 And us'd an umbrella upon a new plan ; 
 
 Her elbows she lean'd on her hoop as on crutches, 
 
 And wagg'd her silk gown with the air of a duchess. 
 
 k2 
 
132 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Now forward I stept to behold her sweet face ; 
 
 She ogled and smil'd with a seeming good grace ; 
 
 However, there was no dependence upon it, 
 
 Although her eyes sparkled from under her bonnet, 
 
 I question'd her love, so I wished her farewel ; 
 
 But something more clever I'm ready to tell. 
 
 From yon spot in the Park, just where the Parade is, 
 
 Approach' d a grand sportsman, attended by ladies 
 
 On bay horses mounted ; they swift tore the ground, 
 
 Escorted by servants and terriers around ; 
 
 I guess'd that my Lord went to sport with his Graces 
 
 To Windsor's wide forest or Maidenhead races. 
 
 Through Kensington passing I saw a fine show 
 
 Of chaises, gigs, coaches, there all in a row ! 
 
 When I came to a well where a girl stood close by, 
 
 Who ask'd to what place do these folk go ? and why ? 
 
 1, smiling, replied, ' They, my dear, go to Windsor, 
 
 To see king and queen,' — but could not convince her. 
 
 On tiptoe the titt'ring girl ran off the stand, 
 
 And broke half the pitcher she had in her hand. 
 
 In Hammersmith's parish I stopp'd for a minute ; 
 
 A stage-coach here halted — I saw who was in it, 
 
 A grave-looking man with a long nose and chin, 
 
 Two sparks and three damsels were laughing within ; 
 
 The outside was crowded, good Lord ! what a rabble ! 
 
 Some Cits from Fleet Market, some Jews fromWhitechapel, 
 
 Some Bailors from Wapping, and other such crew ; 
 
 But now in the basket 1 I took a short view, 
 
 Two wenches, one jolly, the other but lean, 
 
 With barrels of oysters and shrimp-sacks between. 
 
 The spirited coachman, o'ercharg'd with stout ale, 
 
 When he started, drove faster than Palmer's 2 new mail ; 
 
 1 A large wickerwork receptacle behind the mail-coach. 
 
 2 Palmer invented the mail-coach, and supplied horses to the 
 Post-Office. 
 
A TRIP TO RICHMOND IN SURREY. 133 
 
 He smack'd his long whip — and zounds ! what a flight ! 
 
 His six horses running were soon out of sight ; 
 
 A lad standing by, cried (as if in a swoon), 
 
 ' By Jove ! they fly up like Lunardi's 1 balloon.' 
 
 Much pleas'd with my path when I march'd on apace, 
 
 I reach'd Turnham Green ; on that sweet rural place 
 
 I stopp'd at an inn near a lane down to Chiswick, 
 
 I calPd for some ale, but it tasted like physick. 
 
 As good luck would have it, I could not drink more, 
 
 When, seeing Jack Tar and his wife at the door, 
 
 Join'd close arm-in-arm like a hook on a link, 
 
 I reach'd him my mug and invited to drink ; 
 
 Jack, pleased with the draught, gave me thanks with an 
 
 echo, 
 And cramm'd in his jaw a large quid of tobacco. 
 Again I set off on my way to Kew Bridge, 
 Some boys and some girls came from under a hedge ; 
 They jump'd and they tumbled headforemost around, 
 Each vied with the other to measure the ground ; 
 For halfpence they begg'd, and I gave 'em a penny, 
 When I found that I'd left myself without any 
 To pay toll at the bridge and to buy a few plumbs ; 
 My silver I chang'd for a handful of Brums. 2 
 But, my sight being struck with the beauty of Kew, 
 I forgot my expenses, when, having in view 
 The new Royal Bridge 3 and its elegant Arches 
 There o'er the bright Thames, where the people in barges 
 And pleasure-boats sail ! — how delightful the scene ! 
 'Twixt the shades of Old Brentford and smiling Kew Green. 
 Now forward for Richmond, and happy my lot ! 
 I soon reach'd that lofty and beautiful spot 
 
 1 Lunardi made the first balloon ascent in England, Sept. 21, 1784. 
 
 2 Birmingham halfpence, struck by Boulton and Watts at their 
 works at Soho, Birmingham. 
 
 3 Kew Bridge was opened to the public, September, 1789. 
 
134 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Which is called Richmond Hill — what a prospect amazing ! 
 
 E xtensive and pleasant ; I could not help gazing 
 
 On yonder fine landscape of Twick'nam's sweet plains, 
 
 Where kind Nature its thousandfold beauty maintains. 
 
 To trace all its pleasures too short was the day ; 
 
 The dinner-bell ringing, I hasten' d away 
 
 To a cheerful repast at a G entleman's seat, 
 
 Whose friendship vouchsaf'd me a happy retreat. 
 
135 
 
 GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD, 
 
 COMMONLY CALLED ' FIGHTING FITZGERALD.' 
 
 HOULD anyone wish for a graphic account 
 of Irish life in the later portion of the 
 eighteenth century, he should read Sir 
 Jonah Barrington's 'Personal Sketches 
 of Ireland/ and he will find afterwards 
 that Lever's novels afford but a faint reflection of the 
 manners and customs existing in the west and south 
 of Ireland. Ignorance, idleness, and dissipation were 
 the characteristic of the wealthier classes, and a 
 meeting of the ' gentry ' could seldom take place 
 without quarrelling and bloodshed. At races, fairs, 
 and elections, the lower class enjoyed themselves 
 likewise, after their kind, in breaking of heads and 
 drunkenness. It was a singular state of things, but 
 it must be borne in mind, whilst reading the follow- 
 ing memoirs, as, otherwise, the facts therein related 
 would scarcely be credited. 1 
 
 The Fitzgeralds of County Mayo come of an an- 
 cient stock, from no less than the great Geraldine 
 
 1 Some idea of the duelling that went on in Ireland in the 
 latter part of last century may be gathered from the following 
 extract from Sir Jonah's book (vol. ii, p. 3) : 'I think I may 
 challenge any country in Europe to show such an assemblage of 
 
136 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 family, through the Desmond branch, and George, 
 the father of George Robert Fitzgerald, had a very 
 good property at Turlough, near Castlebar. It pro- 
 bably had some influence in his future career that 
 * Fighting Fitzgerald ' should have had for his mother 
 Lady Mary Hervey, who had been maid-of-honour to 
 the Princess Amelia, and who was the daughter of 
 one, and the sister of two, Earls of Bristol. The 
 family from which she sprang was noted for eccen- 
 tricity, so much so, that it passed into a saying that 
 'God made Men, Women, and Herveys.' She did 
 not live long with her husband, his lax morality and 
 dissipated manners could not be borne, and she left 
 him to his own devices and returned to England. 
 By him she had two sons, George Robert (born 1749), 
 and Charles Lionel. The elder, in due time, was 
 
 gallant judicial and official antagonists at fire and sword as is 
 exhibited even in the following list : 
 
 The Lord Chancellor of Ireland, Earl Clare, fought the 
 Master of the Rolls, Curran. 
 
 The Chief Justice, K.B.. Lord Clonmell, fought Lord Tyraw- 
 ley (a privy counsellor), Lord Llandaff, and two others. 
 
 The judge of the county of Dublin, Egan, fought the Master 
 of the Rolls, Roger Barrett, and three others. 
 
 The Chancellor of the Exchequer, the Right Hon. Isaac Corry, 
 fought the Right Hon. Henry Grattan (a privy counsellor), and 
 another. 
 
 A Baron of the Exchequer, Baron Medge, fought his brother- 
 in-law and two others. 
 
 The Chief Justice, C. P. Lord Norbury, fought Fire-eater 
 Fitzgerald and two other gentlemen, and frightened Napper 
 Tandy, and several besides : one hit only. 
 
 The judge of the Prerogative Court, Dr. Dingenan, fought 
 one barrister and frightened another on the ground. N.B. — 
 The latter case a curious one. 
 
 The Chief Counsel to the Revenue, Henry Deane Grady, 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 137 
 
 sent to Eton, where he seems to have learnt as much 
 Latin and Greek as was requisite for a gentleman 
 of those days, and he used occasionally in after life 
 to write a little poetry now and again, of which 
 one piece, 'The Riddle,' was printed after his 
 execution. 
 
 From Eton he, in 1766, being then in his seven- 
 teenth year, was gazetted to a lieutenancy in the 69th 
 regiment, and was quartered at Galway, a nice place 
 for a newly-emancipated schoolboy, and a red-hot, 
 wild Irishman to boot. Here he soon got into a 
 scrape, owing to his conduct with a shop-girl, which 
 ended in a duel, in which neither the combatants 
 were hurt. He next managed to pick a quarrel with 
 a young officer of his own regiment, named Thomp- 
 
 fought Counsellor O'Mahon, Counsellor Campbell, and others : 
 all hits. 
 
 The Master of the Rolls fought Lord Buckinghamshire, the 
 Chief Secretary, &c. 
 
 The provost of the University of Dublin, the Right Hon. 
 Hely Hutchinson, fought Mr. Doyle, Master in Chancery, and 
 some others. 
 
 The Chief Justice C. P. Patterson, fought three country 
 gentlemen, one of them with swords, another with guns, and 
 wounded all of them. 
 
 The Right Hon. George Ogle (a privy counsellor) fought 
 Barney Coyle, a distiller, because he was a Papist. They fired 
 eight shots, and no hit ; but the second broke his own arm. 
 
 Thomas Wallace, K.C., fought Mr. O'Gorman, the Catholic 
 Secretary. 
 
 Counsellor O'Connell fought the Orange chieftain ; fatal to 
 the champion of Protestant ascendency. 
 
 The collector of the customs of Dublin, the Hon. Francis 
 Hutchinson, fought the Right Hon. Lord Mountmorris. 
 
 Two hundred and twenty-seven memorable and official duels 
 have actually been fought during my grand climacteric. 
 
138 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 son, who was a quiet and inoffensive man, and they 
 met. The first round was fired by both without 
 injury, but Lieutenant Thompson's second bullet 
 struck Fitzgerald's forehead, and he fell. The sur- 
 geons, after examination, came to the conclusion that 
 the only way to save his life was by performing upon 
 him the operation of trepanning, or cutting a round 
 piece out of the skull in order to relieve the pressure 
 on the brain. It was an operation that was very 
 risky, but in this case it was successful. Still, one 
 cannot help thinking, judging by his after career, 
 that his brain then received some permanent injury 
 which deprived him of the power of reasoning, and 
 of control over his actions. 
 
 He now left the army, and went home to live with 
 his father. Here he lived the regular Irishman's 
 life of the period : hunting, shooting, cock-fighting, 
 &c, until he fell in love with a lady of good family, 
 a Miss Conolly of Castletown ; but even here he could 
 not act as other men do. He could not be married 
 quietly, but ran away with his bride, and an incident 
 in their elopement is amusingly told, it being put in 
 the mouth of his servant. 
 
 < But hoo did the Captain mak' it up again wi' the 
 Square % Ye omadhaun, it was with the young mis- 
 thresshe med it up ; and she took Frinch lave with him, 
 wan fine moonlight night soon afther. It was mysel' 
 that had the chaise an' four waitin' for them ; an' a 
 divilish good thing happened at the first inn we 
 stopt at. The Captain in coorse ordhered the best 
 dhrawin'-room for the misthress ; an' sure, if it was 
 goold, she was worthy ov it. But the beggarly- 
 lookin' waither sed it was taken up with some grand 
 Englishmen. 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 139 
 
 * " Bequqst thim," sis the Captain, " to accommodate 
 a lady that's fatigued, with the apartment." 
 
 * Well an' good, the waither delivered the message, 
 when one of the Englishers roars out, " Damn the 
 fellow's cursed insolence, we shan't give up the room 
 to any rascal." 
 
 ■ " Here," sis one of thim, " show Paddy this watch, 
 an' ax him to tell what o'clock it is." 
 
 * So the waither brings the watch with the message 
 in to where the Captain and mysel' was — the mis- 
 thress had gone with her maid to another room to 
 change her dhress. 
 
 ' " Very well," sis the Captain, " I think I can show 
 them what o'clock it is." So he dhraws his soord, 
 and puts the point through his chain ; " Channor," 
 thin says he to me, " attend me." 
 
 ■ With that we went in among them, an' the Cap- 
 tain sthretched over the watch at the sword's point to 
 ache of them, beggin', with a polite bow, to know to 
 which o' thim it belonged. But little notions, ye may 
 swair, they had ov ownin' it theirs. Every wan o' 
 the cowardly rascals swore it did not belong to 
 himsel' ! 
 
 4 " Oh, I was thinkin', jintlemen, it was all a bit ov 
 a mistake," sis the Captain, " so I think you must 
 have it, Channor, for want of a betther owner." So 
 with that he hands it over to mysel'. It was a fine 
 go old watch, an 7 here I have it still.' 
 
 Not only was young Mrs. Fitzgerald reconciled to 
 her relations, but an arrangement was made with old 
 Fitzgerald that, on payment of a certain sum of 
 money down, he would give his son a rent charge of 
 £1,000 a year on his estate, and he had a very hand- 
 some fortune with his wife besides. 
 
140 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 The young couple thereupon went to France, and, 
 having introductions to the best society in Paris, 
 enjoyed themselves immensely. He dressed splen- 
 didly, and he astonished the Parisians, who asked 
 each other, * Qui est ce seigneur ? d'oii vient il ? 
 II n'est pas Francais, — Quelle magnificence ! Quelle 
 politesse ! Est-il possible qu'il soit etranger V In his 
 hat he wore diamonds, and the same precious stones 
 adorned his buckles and his sword-knot ; indeed, all 
 through his life he was fond of such gewgaws, and 
 when his house at Turlough was wrecked by the 
 mob — no one preventing — he estimated his loss in 
 jewellery, &c, at £20,000. They must have been 
 costly, for he enumerates among the stolen collection : 
 'A casquet containing a complete set of diamond 
 vest buttons, two large emeralds, a hat-band with 
 five or six rows of Oriental pearls, worth £1,500, a 
 large engraved amethyst, a gold watch and chain 
 studded with diamonds, several other gold watches 
 and seals, a great number of antique and modern 
 rings, gold shoe and knee buckles, silver shaving 
 apparatus, several pairs of silver shoe and knee 
 buckles, with £6,300 worth of other jewels.' 
 
 He joined eagerly in the dissipations of the gay 
 French capital, especially in gaming, and the twenty 
 thousand pounds he had with his wife soon came to 
 an end; and among other people to whom he was in 
 debt was the Comte d'Artois, afterwards Charles X., 
 to whom he owed three thousand pounds. One 
 evening afterwards he offered a bet of one thousand 
 pounds on the prince's hand of cards, which the 
 €omte d'Artois overhearing, he asked Fitzgerald for 
 payment, and, being told that it was not then con- 
 venient, the prince took the Irishman by the arm, led 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. HI 
 
 him to the top of the stairs, and then, giving him one 
 kick, left him to get downstairs as quickly as he 
 could. This indignity was one which it was very 
 hard on the hot-blooded Irishman to be obliged to 
 endure, for he might; not challenge with impunity a 
 prince of the blood, and from the public nature of the 
 insult he naturally lost his place in society. It was 
 certain he must leave France ; but before he left he 
 must somehow distinguish himself. And he did it in 
 this wise. The king was hunting at Fontainebleau, 
 and Fitzgerald, regardless of the etiquette which al- 
 ways allowed the foremost place to the king and royal 
 family, took the hunting of the pack upon himself, 
 riding close to the hounds, cheering and encouraging 
 them. But for some time the stag kept well in the 
 open, and gave Fitzgerald no opportunity of showing 
 off his horsemanship, until it suddenly turned off to- 
 wards the river Seine, on the banks of which a wall 
 had been built. This it leaped, and, to use a hunt- 
 ing phrase, 'took soil' in the river. Over streamed 
 the hounds, and over flew Fitzgerald, reckless of a 
 drop of fourteen feet on the other side, going plump 
 into the river. The hunt stopped at that wall, none 
 daring to take it, and watched with amazement Fitz- 
 gerald emerge, his feet still in the stirrups, and, 
 swimming the river, climb the opposite bank and ride 
 away. 
 
 He went to London, where he was well received 
 in society, notwithstanding that his fame as a duellist 
 was well known, he having fought eleven duels by 
 the time he was twenty-four years of age. Whether 
 it was then that he forced his way into Brookes' Club 
 I know not, but it is certain that he did, and as I 
 cannot tell the story as well as it is told in that most 
 
142 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 amusing but anonymously written book, ' The Clubs 
 of London,' I extract it. 
 
 1 Fitzgerald having once applied to Admiral Keith 
 Stewart to propose him as a candidate for "Brookes's," 
 the worthy admiral, well knowing that he must 
 either fight or comply with his request, chose the 
 latter alternative. Accordingly, on the night in 
 which the balloting was to take place (which was 
 only a mere form in this case, for even Keith Stewart 
 himself had resolved to black-ball him), the duellist 
 accompanied the gallant admiral to St. James's Street, 
 and waited in the room below, whilst the suffrages 
 were taken, in order to know the issue. 
 
 ' The ballot was soon over, for without hesitation 
 every member threw in a black ball, and, when the 
 scrutiny took place, the company were not a little 
 amazed to find not even one white one among the 
 number. However, the point of rejection being 
 carried nem. con., the grand affair now was as to 
 which of the members had the hardihood to announce 
 the same to the expectant candidate. No one would 
 undertake the office, for the announcement was sure 
 to produce a challenge, and a duel with Fighting 
 Fitzgerald had in almost every case been fatal 1 o his 
 opponent. The general opinion, however, was that 
 the proposer, Admiral Stewart, should convey the 
 intelligence, and that in as polite terms as possible ; 
 but the admiral, who was certainly on all proper 
 occasions a very gallant officer, was not inclined to 
 go on any such embassy. 
 
 ' " No, gentlemen,' said he ; " I proposed the fellow 
 because I knew you would not admit him ; but, by 
 G — d, I have no inclination to risk my life against 
 that of a madman." 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 113 
 
 1 " But, admiral," replied the Duke of Devonshire, 
 " there being no white ball in the box, he must know- 
 that you have black-balled him as well as the rest, 
 and he is sure to call you out, at all events." 
 
 1 This was a poser for the poor admiral, who sat 
 silent for a few seconds amidst the half-suppressed 
 titter of the members. At length, joining in the 
 laugh against himself, he exclaimed, 
 
 * " Upon my soul, a pleasant job I've got into ! 
 
 D n the fellow ! No matter ! I won't go. Let 
 
 the waiter tell him that there was one black ball, 
 and that his name must be put up again if he 
 wishes it." 
 
 ' This plan appeared so judicious that all concurred 
 in its propriety. Accordingly the waiter was a few 
 minutes after despatched on the mission. 
 
 'In the meantime Mr. Fitzgerald showed evident 
 symptoms of impatience at being kept so long from 
 his " dear friends " above stairs, and frequently rang 
 the bell to know the state of the poll. On the first 
 occasion he thus addressed the waiter who answered 
 his summons : 
 
 ' " Come here, my tight little fellow. Do you know 
 if I am chose yet ?" 
 
 1 " I really can't say, sir," replied the young man, 
 "but I'll see." 
 
 1 " There's a nice little man ; be quick, d'ye see, 
 and I'll give ye sixpence when ye come with the good 
 news." 
 
 ' Away went the little man ; but he was in no hurry 
 to come back, for he as well as his fellows was suffi- 
 ciently aware of Fitzgerald's violent temper, and 
 wished to come in contact with him as seldom as 
 possible. 
 
144 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 1 The bell rang again, and to another waiter the 
 impatient candidate put the same question : 
 
 4 " Am I chose yet, waither ?" 
 
 4 " The balloting is not over yet, sir," replied the 
 man. 
 
 4 " Not over yet !" exclaimed Fitzgerald. " But, 
 sure, there is no use of balloting at all when my dear 
 friends are all unanimous for me to come in. Run, 
 my man, and let me know how they are getting on." 
 
 4 After the lapse of another quarter-of-an-hour, the 
 bell was rung so violently as to produce a contest 
 among the poor servants, as to whose turn it was to 
 visit the lion in his den ! and Mr. Brookes, seeing no 
 alternative but resolution, took the message from the 
 waiter, who was descending the staircase, and boldly 
 entered the room with a coffee equipage in his hand. 
 
 4 " Did you call for coffee, sir ?" 
 
 444 D — n your coffee, sur ! and you too," answered 
 Mr. Fitzgerald, in a voice which made the host's 
 blood curdle in his veins — " I want to know, sur, and 
 that without a moment's delay, sur, if I am chose yet." 
 
 4 " Oh, sir !" replied Mr. Brookes, who trembled 
 from head to foot, but attempted to smile away the 
 appearance of fear, " I beg your pardon, sir ; but I 
 was just coming to announce to you, sir, with Ad- 
 miral Stewart's compliments, sir, that unfortunately 
 there was one black ball in the box, sir ; and, conse- 
 quently, by the rules of the club, sir, no candidate 
 can be admitted without a new election, sir ; which 
 cannot take place, by the standing regulations of the 
 club, sir, until one month from this time, sir !" 
 
 4 During this address Fitzgerald's irascibility ap- 
 peared to undergo considerable mollification ; and, 
 at its conclusion, the terrified landlord was not a 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 145 
 
 little surprised and pleased to find his guest shake 
 him by the hand, which he squeezed heartily between 
 his own two, saying, 
 
 1 " My dear Mr. Brookes, Tm chose ; and I give ye 
 much joy : for I'll warrant ye'll find me the best cus- 
 tomer in your house ! But there must be a small 
 matter of mistake in my election ; and, as I should not 
 wish to be so ungenteel as to take my sate among 
 my dear friends above-stairs, until that mistake is 
 duly rectified, you'll just step up and make my com- 
 pliments to the gentlemen, and say, as it is only a 
 mistake of one black ball, they will be so good as to 
 waive all ceremony on my account, and proceed to 
 re-elect their humble servant without any more delay 
 at all ; so now, my dear Mr. Brookes, you may put 
 down the coffee, and I'll be drinking it whilst the 
 new election is going on !" 
 
 ' Away went Mr. Brookes, glad enough to escape 
 with whole bones, for this time at least. On an- 
 nouncing the purport of his errand to the assembly 
 above-stairs, many of the members were panic-struck, 
 for they clearly foresaw that some disagreeable cir- 
 cumstance was likely to be the finale of the farce 
 they had been playing. Mr. Brookes stood silent for 
 some minutes, waiting for an answer, whilst several 
 of the members whispered, and laughed, in groups, 
 at the ludicrous figure which they all cut. At length 
 the Earl of March (afterwards Duke of Queensbury) 
 said aloud, 
 
 '"Try the effect of two black balls; d n his 
 
 Irish impudence ; if two balls don't take effect upon 
 him, I don't know what will." This proposition met 
 with unanimous approbation, and Mr. Brookes was 
 ordered to communicate accordingly. 
 
 L 
 
146 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 1 On re-entering the waiting-room, Mr. Fitzgerald 
 rose hastily from his chair, and, seizing him by the 
 hand, eagerly inquired, 
 
 1 " Have they elected me right now, Mr. Brookes ?" 
 
 '"I hope no offence, Mr. Fitzgerald," said the 
 landlord, "but I am sorry to inform you that the 
 result of the second balloting is — that two black balls 
 were dropped in, sir." 
 
 * " By J s, then," exclaimed Fitzgerald, " there's 
 
 now two mistakes instead of one. Go back, my dear 
 friend, and tell the honourable members that it is a 
 very uncivil thing to keep a gentleman waiting 
 below-stairs, with no one to keep him company but 
 himself, whilst they are enjoying themselves with 
 their champagne, and their cards, and their Tokay, 
 up above. Tell them to try again, and I hope they 
 will have better luck this time, and make no more 
 mistakes, because it's getting late, and I won't be 
 chose to-night at all. So now, Mr. Brookes, be off 
 with yourself, and lave the door open till I see what 
 despatch you make.' 
 
 Away went Mr. Brookes for the last time. On an- 
 nouncing his unwelcome errand, everyone saw that 
 palliative measures only prolonged the dilemma : and 
 General Fitzpatrick proposed that Brookes should tell 
 him : " His cause was hopeless, for that he was 
 black-balled all over from head to foot, and it was 
 hoped by all the members that Mr. Fitzgerald would 
 not persist in thrusting himself into society where his 
 company was declined." 
 
 1 This message, it was generally believed, would 
 prove a sickener, as it certainly would have done to 
 any other candidate under similar circumstances. Not 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 147 
 
 so, however, to Fitzgerald, who no sooner heard the 
 purport of it, than he exclaimed, 
 
 6 " Oh, I perceive it is a mistake altogether, Mr. 
 Brookes, and I must see to the rectifying of it my- 
 self ; there's nothing like dealing with principals, and 
 so I'll step up at once, and put the thing to rights, 
 without any more unnecessary delay." 
 
 1 In spite of Mr. Brookes's remonstrance that his 
 entrance into the club -room was against all rule and 
 etiquette, Fitzgerald found his way up-stairs, threat- 
 ening to throw the landlord over the bannisters for 
 endeavouring to stop him. He entered the room 
 without any further ceremony than a bow, saying to 
 the members, who indignantly rose up at this most 
 unexpected intrusion, 
 
 1 " Your servant, gentlemen ! I beg ye will be 
 sated." Walking up to the fire-place, he thus ad- 
 dressed Admiral Stewart : " So, my dear admiral, 
 Mr. Brookes informs me that I have been elected three 
 times." 
 
 1 " You have been balloted for, Mr. Fitzgerald, but 
 I am sorry to say you have not been chosen,' said 
 Stewart. 
 
 < " Well, then," replied the duellist, " did you black- 
 ball me V 
 
 i " My good sir," answered the admiral, " how could 
 you suppose such a thing I " 
 
 * " Oh, I supposed no such thing, my dear fellow, I 
 only want to know who it was dropped the black 
 balls in by accident, as it were." 
 
 * Fitzgerald now went up to each individual mem- 
 ber, and put the same question seriatim, " Did you 
 black-ball me, sir V until he made the round of the 
 
 L2 
 
148 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 ■whole club ; and it may well be supposed that in 
 every case he obtained similar answers to that of the 
 admiral. When he had finished his inquisition, he 
 thus addressed the whole body, who preserved as 
 dread and dead a silence as the urchins at a parish 
 school do on a Saturday when the pedagogue orders 
 half-a-score of them to be horsed for neglecting their 
 catechism, which they have to repeat to the parson 
 on Sunday : 
 
 ' " You see, gentlemen, that as none of ye have 
 black-balled me, / must be chose; and it is Misthur 
 Brookes that has made the mistake. But I was con- 
 vinced of it from the beginning, and I am only sorry 
 that so much time has been lost as to prevent 
 honourable gentlemen from enjoying each other's 
 good company sooner. Waither! Come here, you 
 rascal, and bring me a bottle of champagne, till I 
 drink long life to the club, and wish them joy of 
 their unanimous election of a raal gentleman by father 
 and mother, and — " this part of Fitzgerald's address 
 excited the risible muscles of everyone present ; but 
 he soon restored them to their former lugubrious 
 position by casting around him a ferocious look, and 
 saying, in a voice of thunder — i and who never missed 
 his man ! Go for the champagne, waithur ; and, dy'e 
 hear, sur, tell your masthur — Misthur Brookes, that is 
 — not to make any more mistakes about black balls, 
 for, though it is below a gentleman to call him out, I 
 will find other means of giving him a bagful of broken 
 bones." 
 
 ' The members now saw that there was nothing for 
 it but to send the intruder to Coventry, which they 
 appeared to do by tacit agreement ; for when Admiral 
 Stewart departed, which he did almost immediately, 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FI2ZGERALD. 149 
 
 Mr. Fitgerald found himself completely cut by all 
 " his dear friends." The gentlemen now found them- 
 selves in groups at the several whist-tables, and no 
 one chose to reply to his observations, nor to return 
 even a nod to the toasts and healths which he drank 
 whilst discussing three bottles of the sparkling liquor 
 which the terrified waiter placed before him in suc- 
 cession. At length, finding that no one would com- 
 municate with him in either kind, either for drinking 
 or for fighting, he arose, and, making a low bow, took 
 his leave as follows : 
 
 * " Gentlemen, I bid you all good night ; I am glad 
 to find ye so sociable. I'll take care to come earlier 
 next night, and we'll have a little more of it, please 
 G-d." 
 
 ' The departure of this bully was a great relief to 
 everyone present, for the restraint caused by his 
 vapouring and insolent behaviour was intolerable. 
 The conversation immediately became general, and 
 it was unanimously agreed that half-a-dozen stout 
 constables should be in waiting the next evening to 
 lay him by the heels and bear him off to the watch- 
 house if he attempted again to intrude. Of some 
 such measure Fitzgerald seemed to be aware, for he 
 never showed himself at " Brookes's " again, though 
 he boasted everywhere that he had been unanimously 
 chosen a member of the club.' 
 
 He lived the life of a man about town, and not a 
 very reputable one, either a bully whom everyone 
 feared and no one liked, until the summer of 1773, 
 when he appeared before the public in a dispute of 
 which there is a long account in a contemporary 
 pamphlet, < The Vauxhall Affray, or Macaronies 
 defeated.' The Rev. Henry Bate (afterwards Sir H. 
 
150 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 B. Dudley), the proprietor and editor of the Morning 
 Post, was at Vauxhall in company with Mrs. Hartley, 
 the actress, her husband, Mr. Colman, and a friend, 
 when Fitzgerald, accompanied by the Hon. Thomas 
 Lyttleton, Captain Croftes, and some others, all more 
 or less intoxicated, behaved so rudely to Mrs. Hartley 
 that she could stand it no longer, and complained. 
 Parson Bate was a notable ' bruiser,' and he took her 
 part, and struck Croftes a blow. Cards were ex- 
 changed, and next morning an interview was arranged, 
 at which the clergyman and officer were reconciled, 
 when in bounced Fitzgerald, and declared, in a most 
 insolent manner, that Mr. Bate should give immediate 
 satisfaction to his friend, Captain Miles, whom, he said, 
 the former had grossly insulted the evening before. 
 Miles was introduced, and declared that he had been 
 affronted by the clergyman, and if he did not imme- 
 diately strip and fight with him, he (Miles) would 
 post him as a coward, and cane him wherever he 
 met him. 
 
 Mindful of his cloth, Mr. Bate hesitated ; but Miles, 
 saying something about cowardice, the parson threw 
 all consideration of his calling to the winds, a ring 
 was formed, and Captain Miles received the handsom- 
 est thrashing he ever had. Soon afterwards it trans- 
 pired that Captain Miles was Fitzgerald's own servant, 
 who had been compelled by his master so to behave. 
 Mr. Bate very properly exposed the affair in the 
 Morning Post. 
 
 We next hear of him engaged in a duel with Cap- 
 tain Scawen of the Guards, which was fought at 
 Lille, and twice he fired before his adversary. Luckily 
 he missed him, and the second time the captain , 
 having fired in the air, the affair ended. 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 151 
 
 He was concerned in another duel, which made 
 some stir at the time (1775). There was a young 
 fellow named Walker, the son of a plumber and 
 painter, whose father left him a large fortune, and 
 Daisy Walker, as he was called, became a cornet in 
 Burgoyne's Light Dragoons. His fortune soon went 
 in gambling, and he had to retire from the service, 
 whilst his guardians looked into his affairs. At that 
 time Fitzgerald held a bill of his for three thousand 
 pounds, and pressed for payment. It was ultimately 
 compromised, and, on receipt of five hundred pounds, 
 he gave up the bill. Subsequently Daisy Walker 
 made some lucky bets, and Fitzgerald at once be- 
 came clamourous for payment of two thousand five 
 hundred pounds. Walker denied his liability, say- 
 ing the matter was settled by the payment of five 
 hundred pounds and the return of the bill ; but this 
 was not Fitzgerald's view of the matter, and he 
 dunned young Walker whenever he met him, and at 
 last, at Ascot races, he cut him across the face with 
 his cane. 
 
 Of course, in those days, there could be but one 
 course to be taken, and a challenge was sent, and 
 accepted. Walker, as being the insulted party, should 
 fire first. They duly met, and the distance was fixed 
 at ten paces, but the second who measured the ground 
 took such strides that it was virtually twelve paces. 
 Walker fired, and his antagonist was unhurt. Fitz- 
 gerald, who had the whole etiquette of the duello at 
 his finger's ends, then stepped forward and apologised 
 for having struck Walker — which apology was accept- 
 ed. But, as soon as this ceremony was finished, Fitz- 
 gerald again began dunning for his £2,500, and, when 
 he was told that it was not owing, he prepared to 
 
152 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 take his shot, offering to bet £1,000 that he hit his 
 adversary. The pistol missed fire, and he calmly- 
 chipped the flint, reiterating his offer to bet. He 
 fired, and the ball grazed Walker in the arm just 
 below the shoulder, but did not wound him, and 
 they left the field. Subsequently, however, Fitz- 
 gerald declared that Walker was ' papered/ i.e., pro- 
 tected in some way, and published an account of 
 the duel in a pamphlet, addressed to the Jockey 
 Club. To this Walker replied, and Fitzgerald 
 followed up with another pamphlet, in which he 
 
 * I should most certainly have fixed it at six instead 
 of ten paces. My predilection for that admeasurement 
 of ground is founded upon the strictest principles of 
 humanity. For 1 know, from trials successively re- 
 peated, twenty times one after the other, I can, at 
 that distance, hit any part of the human body to a 
 line, which, possibly you may know, is only the twelfth 
 part of an inch.' 
 
 And he again refers to his pistol-practice. ' So, 
 then, you had one Surtout on ; are you certain you 
 had not half-a-dozen ? If no more than one Surtout, 
 pray how many coats and waistcoats % You give us 
 no account of your under-garments. I ask these 
 questions, Sir, because, after reading your pamphlet, 
 I took the same pistol, charged it with the same 
 quantity of powder, used a bullet cast in the same 
 mould, measured out twelve good paces with a yard 
 wand, and then fired at a thick stick, which I had 
 previously covered over with two waistcoats lined, 
 one coat lined, and one double-milled drab Surtout. 
 What think you, Sir, was the result ! Why, Sir, the 
 ball penetrated through the Surtout, the coat, two 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 153 
 
 waistcoats, and lodged itself an inch deep in the 
 stick. There is nothing like experimental philosophy 
 for a fair proof, it beats your ipse dixits all halloo. 
 You see how ingeniously I pass away my private 
 hours — I am always hard at study/ 
 
 This affair made London too hot for him, and he 
 went over to France with an old brother officer named 
 Baggs, and they picked up a living by horse-racing 
 and gambling — which led to a duel between the 
 two, for Baggs had fleeced a young Englishman 
 named Sandford, and there was a quarrel as to the 
 division of the spoil, which ended in Fitzgerald draw- 
 ing his gloves across Baggs' face, and Baggs return- 
 ing the compliment by dashing his hat in his partner's 
 face. Of course the outcome of this was a duel, which 
 is graphically described by Hamilton Rowan in his 
 ■ Autobiography.' 
 
 1 They fired together, and were in the act of level- 
 ling their second pistols, when Baggs fell on his side, 
 saying, 
 
 1 " Sir, I am wounded." 
 
 < " But you are not dead !" said Fitzgerald. 
 
 'At the same moment he discharged his second 
 pistol at his fallen antagonist. 
 
 1 Baggs immediately started on his legs and ad- 
 vanced on Fitzgerald, who, throwing the empty pistol 
 at him, quitted his station, and kept a zig-zag course 
 across the field, Baggs following. I saw the flash of 
 Bagg's second pistol, and, at the same moment, Fitz- 
 gerald lay stretched on the ground. I was just in 
 time to catch Baggs as he fell, after firing his second 
 shot. He swooned from intense pain, the small bone 
 of his leg being broken. Mr. Fitzgerald now came 
 up, saying, 
 
154 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 1 " We are both wounded ; let us go back to our 
 ground." ' 
 
 But this could not be allowed, and the wounded 
 were carried home. Fitzgerald's wound was in the 
 thigh, and rendered him slightly lame ever after. 
 
 When he got well, he returned to Ireland, and, 
 thanks to his uncle, the Earl of Bristol and Bishop of 
 Derry, he lived in very fair style, either in Merrion 
 Street, Dublin, or at Rockfield, near Turlough. While 
 living in Dublin he fought a duel with John Toler 
 (afterwards Lord Norbury), fired a pistol at Denis 
 Browne, Lord Altamont's brother, in Sackville Street, 
 in broad daylight, and insulted and struck John 
 Fitzgibbon, afterwards Lord Chancellor Clare. 
 
 Death now took away his guardian-angel, his 
 amiable and patient wife, leaving him a little daughter. 
 His grief for her loss was extravagant, and amounted 
 to little short of frenzy. After the funeral he behaved 
 more than ever like a madman. He took to hunting 
 by night, and hunted anything that was about after 
 dark. In this wild chase he was always accom- 
 panied by a band of mounted servants, carrying 
 torches, and, when the peasants were roused from 
 their slumbers by the noise of hounds, and the cries of 
 men, they knew that Mad Fitzgerald was abroad. 
 
 When he hunted by day, he would peremptorily 
 order home anyone to whom he had even a fancied 
 dislike. He would tell one man to go home for he 
 was more fitted to follow the plough than the hounds ; 
 another would be bidden to go and mind his sheep, 
 and a third would be told to quit the field, as he was 
 too fat for the sport. And they had to go, for their 
 monitor would not have scrupled to have used his 
 whip, and, if that had been objected to, there was 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 155 
 
 always the ultima ratio of a duel, and men were rather 
 shy of meeting ' Fighting Fitzgerald.' 
 
 He had a particular dislike to the family of Lord 
 Altamont, and behaved in a most high-handed and 
 outrageous manner towards them. For instance, he 
 heard that a relation of my lord's, a Mr. Browne, was 
 out shooting on a bog near Westport, so he got 
 together his men and dogs, and went in quest of him. 
 When Mr. Browne saw him enter on the scene, he 
 retired ; Fitzgerald pursued, Mr. Browne increased 
 his pace, so did Fitzgerald, until he literally hunted 
 the offending sportsman home. Another time he 
 rode over to Lord Altamont's house, and asked to 
 see the wolf-dog, which, for its size and fierceness, 
 was the admiration and terror of the neighbourhood. 
 No sooner was he shown the dog than he shot it, 
 charging the servants to tell their master that, until 
 he became more charitable to the poor, who only 
 came to his door to be barked at and bitten, he 
 should not allow such a beast to be kept, but that he 
 had no objection to the three ladies of the family 
 each keeping a lap-dog. 
 
 After a time, his grief at the loss of his wife sub- 
 sided, and he fell in love with the only child and heiress 
 of a Mr. Vaughan, of Carrowmore, County Mayo, and 
 singularly, although she well knew his reckless 
 character, she returned his affection. We know how 
 he ran away with his first wife; the story of his 
 wedding with his second is yet more romantic. 
 
 Mr. Vaughan was, not unnaturally, averse to Fitz- 
 gerald marrying his daughter, but, at the same time, 
 he did not forbid him the house. So one night Fitz- 
 gerald was suddenly attacked by a very acute illness, 
 writhing about in great agony, and at last begged 
 
156 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 to be allowed to remain there that night. In the 
 morning he was much worse, and at death's door, 
 lamenting the iniquity of his past life, and begging 
 that a priest should be sent for. Of course one soon 
 came, but, in the midst of his spiritual exercises, 
 Fitzgerald sprang out of bed, and, presenting a 
 pistol to the head of the priest, swore he would blow 
 out his brains if he did not instantly marry him to 
 Miss Vaughan, and the terror-stricken priest had no 
 option but to comply. Mr. Vaughan had to bow to 
 the inevitable, and the new Mrs. Fitzgerald never 
 had reason to complain of her husband's treatment of 
 her, as he was uniformly kind and affectionate to her. 
 When Fitzgerald returned to Ireland, he found his 
 father, a weak, false, vicious old man, almost in his 
 dotage, and entirely under the control of his younger 
 son Lionel, a low woman whom he had taken as his 
 mistress, and an unscrupulous pettifogger named 
 Patrick Randal MacDonnell. Charles Lionel, the 
 younger son, was his brother's enemy, because he 
 saw nothing but poverty before him if his father 
 paid George Robert the £1,000 a year to which he 
 was entitled, for the old spendthrift was always in 
 debt. The mistress had every reason to keep things 
 as they were, and MacDonnell did not like to see his 
 pickings done away with. It is questionable whether 
 Fitzgerald had ever received any portion of his 
 settlement — at all events, it was £12,000 in arrear. 
 He sa w the estate that was ultimately to come to 
 him being wasted, his father getting more hope- 
 lessly into debt, and spending his substance on an 
 immoral and greedy woman, and he was determined 
 to put a stop to it. He had a difficulty to get a 
 solicitor in Dublin to undertake his case, but at last 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 157 
 
 he found one, and arranged with him to accompany 
 him in his carriage to Mayo. The story of that ride 
 is told by Sir Jonah Barrington (vol. hi, p. 170, ed. 
 1832) as follows : 
 
 * Mr. Fitzgerald sent for the attorney, and told him 
 that, if his going down was previously known, there 
 would be several of the tenants and others, under the 
 adverse influence of his father and brother, who 
 would probably abscond, and that, therefore, since 
 spies were watching him perpetually, to give notice 
 in the county of his every movement, it was ex- 
 pedient that he should set out two or three hours 
 before daybreak, so as to have the start of them 
 That his own travelling-carriage should be ready 
 near the gate of the Phoenix Park to take up Mr. 
 
 T , who might bring his trunk of papers with 
 
 him in a hack-carriage, so that there should be no 
 suspicion. 
 
 ' All this was reasonable and proper, and accord- 
 ingly done. Mr. Fitzgerald's carriage was on the 
 spot named, near the wall of the Phoenix Park. The 
 attorney was punctual, the night pitch dark, and the 
 trunk of papers put into the boot ; the windows were 
 
 all drawn up. Mr. T stepped into the carriage 
 
 with as great satisfaction as ever he had felt in his 
 whole lifetime, and away they drove cheerily, at a 
 good round pace, for the county of Galway. 
 
 'Mr. T had no idea that anybody else was 
 
 coming with them, Mr. Fitzgerald not having men- 
 tioned such a thing. He found, however, a third 
 gentleman in a travelling-cloak sitting between him- 
 self and his client, who was dozing in the far corner. 
 The stranger, too, he found not over-courteous ; for, 
 though the carriage was not very roomy, and the 
 
158 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 gentleman was bulky, he showed no disposition 
 whatever to accommodate the attorney, who begged 
 him, with great suavity and politeness, to " move a 
 little." To this he received no reply, but a snoring 
 both from the strange traveller and Mr. Fitzgerald. 
 
 Mr. T now felt himself much crowded and 
 
 pressed, and again earnestly requested " the gentle- 
 man " to allow him, if possible, a little more room ; 
 but he only received a snore in return. He now 
 concluded that his companion was a low, vulgar 
 fellow. His nerves became rather lax; he got 
 alarmed, without well knowing why ; he began to 
 twitter — the twitter turned into a shake, and, as is 
 generally the case, the shake ended with a cold 
 
 sweat, and Mr. T found himself in a state of 
 
 mind and body far more disagreeable than he had 
 ever before experienced. 
 
 ' The closeness and pressure had elicited a hot 
 perspiration on the one side, while his fears produced 
 a cold perspiration on the other, so that (quite unlike 
 the ague he had not long recovered from) he had hot 
 and cold fits at the same moment. All his apprehen- 
 sions were now awakened ; his memory opened her 
 stores, and he began to recollect dreadful anecdotes 
 of Mr. Fitzgerald, which he never before had credit- 
 ed, or indeed had any occasion to remember. The 
 ruffians of Turlow passed as the ghosts in " Macbeth " 
 before his imagination. Mr. Fitzgerald, he supposed, 
 was in a fox's sleep, and his bravo in another, who, 
 instead of receding at all, on the contrary, squeezed 
 the attorney closer and closer. His respiration now 
 grew impeded, and every fresh idea exaggerated his 
 horror ; his untaxed costs, he anticipated, would 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 159 
 
 prove his certain death, and that a cruel one. Nei- 
 ther of his companions would answer him a single 
 question, the one replying only by a rude snore, and 
 the other by a still ruder. 
 
 ' " Now," thought Mr. T , " my fate is consum- 
 mated. I have often heard how Mr. Fitzgerald cut 
 a Jew's throat in Italy, and slaughtered numerous 
 creditors while on the grand tour of Europe. God 
 help me ! unfortunate solicitor that I am, my last 
 day, or rather night, has come !" 
 
 ■ He thought to let down the window and admit a 
 little fresh air, but it was quite fast. The whole 
 situation was insupportable, and at length he ad- 
 dressed Mr. Fitzgerald, most pathetically, thus : 
 
 i " Mr. Fitzgerald, I'll date the receipt the moment 
 you choose, and whenever it's your convenience I 
 have no doubt you'll pay it most honourably — no 
 doubt, no doubt, Mr. Fitzgerald — but not necessary 
 at all till perfectly convenient, or never, if more 
 agreeable to you and this other gentleman." 
 
 * Fitzgerald could now contain himself no longer, 
 but said, quite in good humour, 
 
 * " Oh, very well, Mr. T , very well, quite time 
 
 enough ; make yourself easy on that head." 
 
 ' The carriage now arrived at Maynooth, where the 
 horses were instantly changed, and they proceeded 
 rapidly on their journey, Mr. Fitzgerald declaring he 
 would not alight till he reached Turlow, for fear of 
 pursuit. 
 
 1 The attorney now took courage, and, very truly 
 surmising that the other gentleman was a foreigner, 
 ventured to beg of Mr. Fitzgerald to ask " his friend " 
 to sit over a little, as he was quite crushed. 
 
160 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 1 Mr. Fitzgerald replied, " That the party in ques- 
 tion did not speak English, but when they arrived 
 at Killcock the matter should be better arranged." 
 
 6 The attorney was now compelled for some time 
 longer to suffer the hot press, inflicted with as little 
 compunction as if he were only a sheet of paper ; 
 but, on arriving at the inn at Killcock, dawn just 
 appeared, and Mr. Fitzgerald, letting down a win- 
 dow, desired his servant, who was riding with a pair 
 of large horse-pistols before him, to rouse the people 
 at the inn, and get some cold provisions and a bottle 
 of wine brought to the carriage. " And, Thomas," 
 said he, " get five or six pounds of raw meat, if you 
 can — no matter of what kind — for this foreign gen- 
 tleman." 
 
 1 The attorney was now petrified ; a little twilight 
 glanced into the carriage, and nearly turned him 
 into stone. The stranger was wrapped up in a blue 
 travelling cloak with a scarlet cape, and had a great 
 white cloth tied round his head and under his chin ; 
 but when Mr. Solicitor saw the face of his companion 
 he uttered a piteous cry, and involuntarily ejaculated, 
 " Murder ! murder !" On hearing this cry, the ser- 
 vant rode back to the carriage window and pointed 
 
 to his pistols. Mr. T now offered up his soul to 
 
 God, the stranger grumbled, and Mr. Fitzgerald, 
 leaning across, put his hand to the attorney's mouth, 
 and said he should direct his servant to give him 
 reason for that cry, if he attempted to alarm the 
 people of the house. Thomas went into the inn, and 
 immediately returned with a bottle of wine and some 
 bread, but reported that there was no raw meat to 
 be had ; on hearing which, Mr. Fitzgerald ordered 
 him to seek some at another house. 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 161 
 
 ' The attorney now exclaimed again, u God protect 
 me !" Streaming with perspiration, his eye every 
 now and then glaacing towards his mysterious com- 
 panion, and then, starting aside with horror, he at 
 length shook as if he were relapsing into his old 
 ague ; and the stranger, finding so much unusual 
 motion beside him, turned his countenance upon the 
 attorney. Their cheeks came in contact, and the 
 reader must imagine — because it is impossible ade- 
 quately to describe — the scene that followed. The 
 stranger's profile was of uncommon prominence ; his 
 mouth stretched from ear to ear, he had enormous 
 grinders, with a small twinkling eye, and his visage 
 was all be-whiskered and mustachioed — more, even, 
 than Count Platoff's of the Cossacks. 
 
 ' Mr. T 's optic nerves were paralysed as he 
 
 gazed instinctively at his horrid companion, in whom, 
 when he recovered his sense of vision sufficiently to 
 scrutinize him, he could trace no similitude to any 
 being on earth save a bear ! 
 
 * And the attorney was quite correct in this com- 
 parison. It was actually a Russian bear, which Mr. 
 Fitzgerald had educated from a cub, and which 
 generally accompanied his master on his travels. 
 He now gave Bruin a rap upon the nose with a 
 stick which he carried, and desired him to hold up 
 his head. The brute obeyed. Fitzgerald then order- 
 ed him to " kiss his neighbour," and the bear did 
 as he was told, but accompanied his salute with such 
 a tremendous roar as roused the attorney (then 
 almost swooning) to a full sense of his danger. 
 Self-preservation is the first law of Nature, and at 
 once gives courage, and suggests devices. On this 
 occasion, every other kind of law — civil, criminal, or 
 
 M 
 
162 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 equitable — was set aside by the attorney. All his 
 ideas, if any he had, were centred in one word — 
 " escape " ; and as a weasel, it is said, will attack 
 a man if driven to desperation, so did the attorney 
 spurn the menaces of Mr. Fitzgerald, who endeavoured 
 to hold and detain him. 
 
 6 The struggle was violent, but brief ; Bruin roared 
 loud, but interfered not. Horror strengthened the 
 solicitor. Dashing against the carriage-door, he burst 
 it open, and, tumbling out, reeled into the public- 
 house — then rushing through a back-door, and up a 
 narrow lane that led to the village of Summer Hill 
 (Mr. Roly's demesne), about two miles distant, he 
 stumbled over hillocks, tore through hedges and 
 ditches, and never stopped till he came, breathless, 
 to the little alehouse, completely covered with mud, 
 and his clothes in rags. He there told so incoherent 
 a story, that the people all took him for a man either 
 bitten by a mad dog, or broken loose from his 
 keepers, and considered it their duty to tie him, 
 to prevent his biting, or other mischief. In that 
 manner they led him to Squire Roly's, at the great 
 house, where the hapless attorney was pinioned and 
 confined in a stable for some hours, till the squire 
 got up. They put plenty of milk, bread, butter, and 
 cheese into the manger, from the cock-loft above, 
 to prevent accidents, as they said.' 
 
 Fitzgerald, finding the estate going to the dogs 
 — for his father was letting the lands at absurdly 
 low prices to his favourites ; as, for instance, he let 
 his son Charles Lionel a valuable tract of land worth 
 fifteen shillings an acre at one shilling and sixpence, 
 and the deer park at the same price — took the neces- 
 sary legal proceedings to protect himself; and, whilst 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 163 
 
 they were pending, his father was arrested for a debt 
 of £8,000, and taken to a Dublin sponging-house. 
 Although his father had been trying to injure him 
 by all the means in his power, yet Fitzgerald paid 
 the debt, and became responsible for the other debts 
 of his father, who, in return, ratified the settlement 
 which had been in abeyance so long. 
 
 Fitzgerald then applied to the Lord Chancellor for 
 possession of the estate, on the grounds that, under 
 its present management, the property was deteriorat- 
 ing, and as security for the money his father owed 
 him, which amounted to £20,000 — £12,000 of which 
 were arrears of his income of £1,000 per annum, and 
 £8,000 lent to obtain his release ; and, in 1780, the 
 Chancellor made the order as prayed. Had Fitz- 
 gerald gone with bailiffs, and demanded possession, 
 there would have been bloodshed, in all probability ; 
 for the King's writs did not run easily in that part 
 of Ireland. So he waited until one day, when his 
 father went over to Turlough, and he then made a 
 forcible entry into Rockfield, with a troop of armed 
 dependants, and dislodged the servants then in the 
 house. 
 
 Naturally his father did not take this quietly, and 
 possession was not held peacefully. There were 
 many collisions ; and old Fitzgerald indicted his son 
 for having headed a riotous mob, one of whom, he 
 alleged, had, at his son's instigation, attempted to 
 take away his life, by firing a loaded musket at him. 
 The charge could not be sufficiently proved, and 
 Fitzgerald was acquitted. 
 
 He now turned his attention towards improving 
 his estate, and imported some Scotch Presbyterians, 
 a sober and industrious set of men, to whom he 
 
 M 2 
 
164 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 gave five hundred pounds towards building a meet- 
 ing-house, and settled fifty pounds per annum on 
 their minister ; but his father's party were always 
 annoying him, and, in consequence, he refused to 
 give maintenance to his father, who, thereupon, had 
 recourse to the law-courts in Dublin to compel him 
 so to do; and a writ was issued empowering the 
 father to secure the body of his son until a mainten- 
 ance was granted him. It would have been per- 
 fectly useless to have served the writ upon him at 
 Turlough: it is probable no man could have been 
 found bold enough to attempt it. So they waited 
 until the next assizes at Balinrobe ; and then, when 
 they thought they had him safe in the grand jury 
 room, they made application to the judge to arrest 
 him there. Leave was granted, but Fitzgerald got 
 wind of it, and when they went to capture him, lo ! 
 he was not to be found. 
 
 He evidently thought two could play at that game, 
 and he determined to get the old man into his power. 
 In those days, in that part of Ireland, law was not 
 much regarded, especially by men of Fighting Fitz- 
 gerald's stamp; and he speedily put his plan into 
 execution. As his father was going from Balinrobe 
 to Dublin, he was waylaid by his son and a party of 
 armed men, and carried off vi et armis to George 
 Kobert's house at Turlough. 
 
 This open violation of the law could not be sub- 
 mitted to tamely, and his younger brother went to 
 Dublin, and stated his case before the judges, who 
 granted him a writ of habeas corpus. But no one 
 would serve that at Turlough, so they waited, as of 
 aforetime, until he was at the grand jury room, and, 
 leave having been given, his brother, who was bigger 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 165 
 
 and stronger than he, went in, and, literally collaring 
 him, dragged him out, spite of all his protests that he 
 was a grand jury man, and could not be touched 
 while in the exercise of his functions. He was at 
 once put on his trial, and the grand jury found a 
 true bill against him, unanimously : nay, more, they 
 publicly addressed the judge in court, expressing 
 their abhorrence of the charge made against Fitz- 
 gerald. After the finding of a true bill, his trial at 
 once took place, in despite of all efforts to postpone 
 it to the next assizes, and it lasted from nine in the 
 morning until nearly twelve at night, when, the 
 judge having summed up, the jury found him guilty, 
 and he was fined £1,000, to be imprisoned for three 
 years, and until he should pay the fine. 
 
 What happens next in this man's extraordinary 
 career is almost difficult to believe, and shows the 
 lawless state of the country. Fitzgerald was com- 
 mitted to Castlebar prison, but he seems to have been 
 at large therein, for, four days after his committal, he 
 calmly walked out of gaol, armed with a brace of 
 pistols, and scattering a bag of silver to be scrambled 
 for by the gaolers. The doors were all open, a horse 
 was in readiness, and off he went, tantivy, for 
 Turlough, where he was welcomed by his people with 
 volleys of small arms and discharge of cannon. These 
 latter Fitzgerald had procured from a ship, under the 
 pretext that they would be useful for his volunteers, 
 of which he was the colonel. These he mounted as 
 a regular battery, and it was garrisoned in a perfectly 
 military manner by his volunteers. 
 
 But an escape from prison was, by the law of Ire- 
 land, deemed a capital felony, and the sheriff of the 
 county issued proclamations and rewards for his 
 
166 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 apprehension, at which Fitzgerald only laughed, for 
 he could rely on his men, and he had his father still 
 in his custody, as the old man did not go away when 
 his son was, as he thought, safely imprisoned. He 
 was some fifteen months at large before the majesty 
 of the law asserted itself. Then a Jittle army, con- 
 sisting of three companies of foot, a troop of horse, 
 and a battery of artillery, under the command of 
 Major Longford, was sent to reduce this rebel. But, 
 when they got to Kockfield, they found the cannon 
 spiked, and the birds flown to Killala, whither they 
 were followed by Charles Lionel, at the head of the 
 Oastlebar volunteers. But many people gathered 
 round Fitzgerald, and he soon had a party which 
 was too strong for them to attack. But, a large re- 
 inforcement arriving, he had to flee, and, with his 
 father, and two or three attendants, he put to sea in 
 an open boat, landing on a small island in the bay of 
 Sligo. 
 
 Here his father offered him terms, that if he would 
 give him £3,000 to clear off his debts, and pay him a 
 small annuity, he would give him up the estate, and 
 completely exonerate him of all blame in his capture 
 and detention. To these terms Fitzgerald assented, 
 and set off with his father through bye, and un- 
 frequented roads to Dublin. But no sooner had the 
 old man got into his old lodging, than he refused to 
 ratify his bargain, and set his son at defiance. 
 
 Fitzgerald, although there was a reward out of 
 £300 for his apprehension, took no pains to conceal 
 himself, and, consequently, had not been long in 
 Dublin, before Town-Major Hall heard of his where- 
 abouts, and, taking twelve soldiers of the Castle 
 guard with him, arrested Fitzgerald, and safely 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. ] 67 
 
 lodged him in the Castle, where he was con- 
 fined in the officer's room ; and there he abode till 
 the general election, when, through the influence of 
 his powerful friends, he was released. During his 
 incarceration he wrote an appeal to the public on his 
 case, although some say the author was one Timothy 
 Brecknock, a somewhat unscrupulous lawyer whom 
 Fitzgerald employed. 
 
 The first use he made of his newly-acquired liberty 
 was to revenge himself on a man who he fancied 
 had done him some grievous injury, a somewhat 
 eccentric gentleman named Dick Martin, and he de- 
 termined to insult him in the most public manner. 
 He met him at the theatre, struck him with his cane, 
 calling him the bully of the Altamonts, and walked 
 away. Of course, in those days a gentleman so 
 insulted could but do one thing, and that was to 
 send a challenge — and Martin did send Fitzgerald 
 one by the hand of a cousin of the latter, a Mr. 
 Lyster. While he was explaining the object of his 
 visit, Fitzgerald rang the bell, and requested his 
 footman to bring him his cudgel ' with the green 
 ribbon.' This being brought, he walked up to his 
 cousin, and ferociously asked how he dared to deliver 
 such a message to him : then, not waiting for a reply, 
 he belaboured him most unmercifully, with such 
 violence indeed, as to break a diamond ring from off 
 his finger. When he considered him sufficiently 
 punished, he made him pick up his ring and present 
 it to him — but he did not keep it, he wrapped it up 
 in paper, and returned it, telling his cousin not to go 
 about swearing that he had robbed him of it. 
 
 Martin could get no satisfaction out of Fitzgerald 
 in Dublin, the object of the latter being to let his 
 
168 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 adversary have the reputation of being an insulted 
 man. But, afterwards, they met at Castlebar, and a 
 meeting was arranged. Martin was hit, and his 
 bullet struck Fitzgerald, but glanced off: according 
 to some it hit a button; according to others, Fitz- 
 gerald was plastrone, or armoured. 
 
 His behaviour was more like that of a lunatic than 
 of a sane man. Take the following example, for in- 
 stance. He had a house and grounds near Dublin, 
 and his neighbours all fought shy of him — nay, one 
 of them, a retired officer, Captain Boulton, would 
 neither accept his invitations nor invite him to his 
 mansion. This conduct galled Fitzgerald, and he 
 devised a novel method of avenging himself of the 
 insult. He would shoot on the captain's grounds 
 without leave. So he went down with his man and 
 dogs and began killing the game in fine style. This 
 soon brought out the steward, who began to remon- 
 strate with the trespasser. Fitzgerald's answer was a 
 bullet, which whizzed close to the head of the poor 
 steward, who turned, and ran for his life, Fitzgerald 
 after him with a second gun, with the certain deter- 
 mination of shooting him. Luckily the man got 
 safely into the mansion. Baffled of his victim, Fitz- 
 gerald began abusing Captain Boulton, calling on 
 him to come out, and give him satisfaction for his 
 man's behaviour. But the captain, not seeing the 
 force of the argument, refrained, and Fitzgerald fired 
 his gun at the dining-room window. As this, how- 
 ever, did not bring out the captain, he fired at the 
 windows as fast as his man could load, and only left 
 off when he had smashed everyone of them. 
 
 Another time he waged war against all the dogs in 
 Castlebar, shooting them whenever he got a chance ; 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 169 
 
 but the people did not stand it tamely ; they rose, 
 visited his kennels, and shot his dogs. 
 
 His father died; but his brother, his father's 
 mistress, and MacDonnell, took advantage of every 
 circumstance in their power to maliciously vex him. 
 Law-suits were stirrred up against him, and had to 
 be met with the assistance of Timothy Brecknock, 
 who was Fitzgerald's legal adviser, and the followers 
 of both parties were not particular in exchanging a 
 shot or two, one with the other. 
 
 At length MacDonnell kidnapped one of Fitz- 
 gerald's servants, and kept him prisoner for twenty 
 days. Then the man escaped, and Fitzgerald applied 
 for, and obtained warrants against, MacDonnell and 
 two other men, named Hipson and Gallagher. To 
 execute these warrants personally must have been a 
 congenial task to Fitzgerald, and he set out for that 
 purpose, followed by a large body of men. On their 
 approach, MacDonnell fled to the neighbouring vil- 
 lage of Ballivary, and his friends did the best they 
 could to defend themselves, firing on his party and 
 wounding six or seven of them. They then went 
 after MacDonnell, and, after more firing, succeeded 
 in apprehending MacDonnell, Hipson, and Gallagher. 
 These unfortunate men begged to be taken before 
 the nearest magistrate ; but Fitzgerald had them 
 bound, and taken to his house, where they remained 
 all night. 
 
 Early the next morning they were sent, guarded 
 by a man of his, one Andrew Craig, and about 
 eighteen or twenty more, all well armed, to be 
 examined by the magistrates. Before their departure 
 Fitzgerald gave the guard strict instructions to kill 
 the prisoners should they attempt to escape. When 
 
170 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 they had gone about three-quarters of a mile a shot 
 was fired, and one of the escort was laid low. But 
 very little was wanted to rouse their wild blood, and 
 it was at once considered that a rescue was intended. 
 Eemembering the instructions given them by Fitz- 
 gerald, they fired on their prisoners, killing Hipson, 
 who fell into a ditch, dragging Gallagher with him, 
 wounded with three bullets in his arm. MacDonnell, 
 by the same volley, had both his arms broken, but 
 he was soon afterwards despatched. Gallagher was 
 then discovered, and they were about to kill him, only 
 Fitzgerald ordered him to be taken to his house. 
 
 News was sent to Castlebar of what had taken 
 place, and Fitzgerald calmly awaited the result. 
 Fully aware of the dangerous character they had to 
 deal with, the authorities sent a large body, both of 
 regular troops, and volunteers, to Turlough, and these 
 were accompanied by an immense mob of people. 
 What happened is best related in the following 
 graphic account : 
 
 6 Brecknock was for remaining, as with the calm- 
 ness of conscious innocence, and boldly demanding a 
 warrant against Gallagher and others. This opinion, 
 however, did not agree with Fitzgerald's own, who 
 justly dreaded the fury of the volunteers and the 
 populace, with whom MacDonnell had been so 
 popular. Neither did it coincide with that of the 
 Kev. Mr. Henry, the Presbyterian clergyman of Tur- 
 lough, who had been latterly a resident in the house, 
 and was now wringing his hands in wild alarm for 
 what had occurred. This gentleman's horse was at 
 the door, and he strongly urged George Robert to 
 mount, and ride for his life out of the country alto- 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 171 
 
 gether, till the powerful intercession he could com- 
 mand might be made for him. In compliance with 
 this advice, which entirely coincided with his own 
 opinion, it is stated that he made several attempts to 
 mount; but that, splendid horseman as he was, 
 whether through nervous excitement, guilty terror, or 
 the restiveness of the animal, he was unable to attain 
 the saddle, and, in consequence, obliged to fly into 
 the house again, as the military were announced to 
 be approaching near. It is also generally asserted 
 that the Rev. Mr. Ellison, who headed the soldiers, 
 sent them on to Gurth-na-fullagh, without halting 
 them at Turlough, where he himself stopped. 
 
 ' Were this circumstance even true, however, Fitz- 
 gerald gained but a short respite by it, as the 
 volunteers, with many of the populace, came furi- 
 ously up immediately after ; and, some of them being 
 placed about the house, the remainder entered to 
 search and pillage it. Brecknock and Fulton were 
 immediately captured, but, after ransacking every 
 corner and crevice more than once without finding 
 him, the volunteers were beginning to think that 
 Fitzgerald must have effected his escape before their 
 arrival, when one of them, forcing open a clothes- 
 chest in a lower apartment, discovered him among 
 a heap of bed-clothes in his place of concealment. 
 
 6 " What do you want, you ruffian V 9 he said, on 
 finding himself detected. 
 
 * " To dhrag ye, like a dog's head, to a bonfire," re- 
 plied another volunteer, named Morran, a powerful 
 man, who seized him at the same time by the breast, 
 and drew him forth by main force. 
 
 * A pistol was now presented at him by a third to 
 
172 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 take summary vengeance ; but a comrade snapped it 
 from his hands, asking if there was not murder 
 enough already. 
 
 4 " What mercy did himself or his murdherers show 
 to those every way their betthers V 
 
 ' " Well, let them pay for that on the gallows, but 
 let us be no murdherers ; let us give him up to the 
 law." 
 
 ' He was, accordingly, hauled out to the front of 
 the house, where, perceiving Mr. Ellison, he ex- 
 claimed, 
 
 1 " Ellison, will you allow me to be handled thus by 
 such rabble V 9 
 
 'Mr. Ellison's response to this saved him from 
 further molestation for a time, and exertions were 
 then made to withdraw the pillagers from the whole- 
 sale plundering they were practising within. One 
 fellow had girded his loins with linen almost as fine 
 as Holland — so fine that he made some hundred yards 
 fit round his body without being much observable. 
 Another, among other valuables, made himself master 
 of the duellist's diamond-buttoned coat; while a 
 third contrived to appropriate to himself all the 
 jewels, valued at a very high amount. In short, so 
 entire were the spoliation and destruction that, before 
 sunset, not a single pane of glass was left in the 
 windows. 
 
 1 The remainder of those implicated in the murders 
 were speedily apprehended, except Craig, who 
 escaped for the time, but was taken soon after near 
 Dublin. 
 
 ' We must now pause to sustain our character as 
 an accurate chronicler to relate an act as unprece- 
 dented, as lawless, and as terrible as the most terrible 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 173 
 
 of Fitzgerald's own. He was alone, on the night of 
 his capture, in the room assigned to him in the gaol. 
 It was not a felon's apartment, but was guarded on 
 the outside by two armed soldiers, lest he should 
 make any desperate attempt to escape. It was some 
 hours after nightfall that Clarke, the then sub-sheriff, 
 removed one of those sentinels to another portion of 
 the prison, where he stated he required his presence. 
 They had scarcely disappeared, when the remaining 
 soldier, McBeth (according to his own account), was 
 knocked down, and his musket taken from him, while 
 the door was burst open, and a number of men, all 
 armed with pistols, sword-canes, and the sentinel's 
 musket, commenced a furious and deadly attack on 
 Fitzgerald, who, though totally unarmed, made a 
 most extraordinary defence. Several shots were dis- 
 charged rapidly at him, one of which lodged in his 
 thigh, while another broke a ring on the finger of 
 one of his hands, which he put up to change the 
 direction of the ball. 
 
 He was then secured by John Gallagher, one of 
 the assailants, and a powerful man, and, whilst 
 struggling in his grip, thrust at with blades and 
 bayonets, one of the former of which broke in the 
 fleshy part of his arm. The latter, too, in forcing out 
 two of his teeth, had its point broken, and was 
 thereby prevented from passing through his throat. 
 After having freed himself, by great exertions, from 
 Gallagher's grasp, he was next assaulted with musket- 
 stock, pistol-butts, and the candlestick, which had 
 been seized by one of the assailants, who gave the 
 candle to a boy to hold. By one of the blows in- 
 flicted by these weapons he was prostrated under 
 the table, and, while lying there, defending himself 
 
174 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 with unimpaired powers against other deadly-aimed 
 blows, he exclaimed, 
 
 1 Cowardly rascals, you may now desist ; you 
 have done for me, which was, of course, your object/ 
 
 The candle had by this time been quenched in 
 the struggling, and the gaol and streets thoroughly 
 alarmed, so that the assailants, fearing to injure one 
 another, and deeming that their intended victim was 
 really dispatched, retreated from the prison, leaving 
 Fitzgerald, though wounded, once more in security. 
 
 In consequence of this outrage, his trial was post- 
 poned for two months, and the government ordered 
 his assailants to be prosecuted, but on trial they were 
 acquitted. Fitzgerald himself was tried the same 
 day (June 8, 1786), the chief witnesses against him 
 being his own man, Andrew Craig, and Andrew 
 Callagher, the latter of whom deposed that when he, 
 Hipson, and MacDonnell, were confined in Fitz- 
 gerald's house, there was a pane broken in the 
 window, and 'At day he saw a number of men 
 regularly drawn up, to the number of twenty or 
 thirty. He saw Andrew Craig and James Foy 
 settling them. Mr. Fitzgerald and Mr. Brecknock 
 came to the flag of the hall-door ; through the broken 
 pane he heard them conversing ; they spoke in 
 French for some time, and afterwards in English, 
 but he could not hear what they said, but the names 
 of himself, MacDonnell, and Hipson were severally 
 mentioned. He heard at that time nothing more 
 than their names. Mr. Fitzgerald called over James 
 Foy and Andrew Craig, who were settling the guard, 
 and ordered them to move a little higher, about ten 
 or twelve yards above the house. There was some 
 other conversation which he did not hear. As soon 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 175 
 
 as the guard were settled, Mr. Fitzgerald gave them 
 — Foy and Craig — orders " If they saw any rescue, 
 or colour of a rescue, be sure they shot the prisoners, 
 and take care of them." 
 
 'When these orders were given, Mr. Fitzgerald said 
 to Mr. Brecknock, 
 
 < " Ha ! we shall soon get rid of them now." 
 
 ' Mr. Brecknock replied : " Oh, then we shall be easy 
 indeed." 
 
 1 After the guard was settled, Mr. Fitzgerald called 
 back Andrew Craig, and when Craig came within 
 ten yards of him, he, Mr. Fitzgerald, said, 
 
 < "Andrew, be sure you kill them. Do not let one of 
 the villains escape." 
 
 ' Andrew answered : u Oh, never fear, please your 
 honour." ' 
 
 At his trial he had a bitter enemy both in the judge, 
 Yelverton, and the prosecuting counsel, Fitzgibbon. 
 Nor could he reckon the high sheriff, Denis Browne, 
 among his friends, so that it was scarcely possible that 
 it should have but one issue, and the jury returned a 
 verdict of guilty against both him and Brecknock, and 
 the judge sentenced them to immediate execution. 
 Fitzgerald begged for a little delay, so that he might 
 settle his worldly affairs ; it was denied him, and, at 
 six in the evening, he walked forth to his doom. 
 Brecknock had already suffered. Fitzgerald dreaded 
 the scene of the scaffold and the journey thither along 
 the high road, in a cart, and asked, as a last favour 
 from the sheriff, to be allowed to walk and go by a 
 by-way. It was granted, and he went to his doom 
 preceded by the hangman, who wore a large mask. 
 He walked very fast, and was dressed in a ragged 
 coat of the Castletown hunt, a dirty flannel waistcoat 
 
176 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 and drawers, both of which were without buttons, 
 brown worsted or yarn stockings, a pair of coarse 
 shoes without buckles, and an old round hat, tied 
 round with a pack-thread band. 
 
 When he jumped off the ladder the rope broke, 
 although he was but a slightly-built man and a light 
 weight, and he had to wait until another, and a 
 stronger, one was procured. After forty minutes' 
 hanging his body was cut down, and was waked by 
 the light of a few candles in a barn at Turlough ; 
 it was interred, the next morning, in the family tomb, 
 situated in a ruined chapel adjoining a round tower, 
 but his remains were disturbed some years afterwards 
 at the burial of his brother in the same tomb. He was 
 thirty-eight years of age. 
 
 His daughter had a portion of £10,000 left her by 
 him, and she was a very gentle and interesting girl. 
 She mostly resided with her uncle at Castletown, and 
 was unaware, for a long time, of her father's fate. 
 But it so happened that, being one day alone in the 
 library, and looking over the upper shelves, she lit 
 upon a copy of his trial. She read it, and from that 
 time never lifted up her head, nor smiled — she could 
 not bear her position as the daughter of a felon, and 
 she gradually pined away, and died at an early age. 
 
177 
 
 EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY AMAZONS. 
 
 UGNACITY is not confined to the male 
 sex, as everyone well knows, and none 
 better than the police-force, but in these 
 latter and, presumably, degenerate days, 
 the efforts, in this direction, of the softer 
 sex are confined to social exhibitions, there being, as 
 far as is known, no woman serving in Her Majesty's 
 force either by land or by sea. Indeed, with the 
 present medical examination, it would be impossible ; 
 and so it would have been in the old days, only then 
 all was fish that came to the net. His, or Her 
 Majesty, as the case might be, never had enough 
 men, and 'food for powder' was ever acceptable, and 
 its quality never closely scrutinised. It is incredible, 
 were it not true, that these women, whose stories I 
 am about to relate, were not discovered to be such 
 — they were wounded, they were flogged, and yet 
 there was no suspicion as to their sex. 
 
 We get the particulars of the life of the first of that 
 century's Amazons in a book of one hundred and eighty- 
 one pages, published (second edition) in 1744, entitled, 
 * The British Heroine : or, an Abridgment of the Life and 
 Adventures of Mrs. Christian Davis, commonly called 
 Mother Ross.' She was born in Dublin, A.D. 1667, 
 
 N 
 
178 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 and was the daughter of a maltster and brewer, named 
 Cavanagh, who occupied a small farm about two 
 miles from Dublin. Here Miss Christian resided with 
 her mother, and, although her education was not 
 neglected, for she learned to read and sew, yet the 
 charms of physical exertion were more attractive, and 
 she took greater delight in using the flail, or following 
 the plough, than in sedentary occupations. She was a 
 regular tomboy, bestriding bare-backed horses and, 
 without saddle or bridle, scampering about, taking 
 hedges and ditches whenever they came in her way. 
 
 After the abdication of James II. her father sold all 
 his standing corn, &c, and with the produce, and the 
 money he had by him, he raised a troop of horse and 
 joined the king's army. He was wounded at the 
 battle of Aghrim, and soon afterwards died of fever. 
 His wife had very prudently negotiated a pardon for 
 him, but, as soon as he was dead, the government 
 confiscated all his goods ; yet still the mother and 
 daughter managed to get along somehow or other. 
 
 She grew up to be a buxom and sprightly lass, 
 when it was her misfortune to meet with her cousin, 
 the Reverend Thomas Howell, a Fellow of Dublin 
 University, who first seduced and then abandoned 
 her. Her grief at this told upon her health, and her 
 mother sent her for a change of air to Dublin, there to 
 stop with an aunt, who kept a public-house. With 
 her she lived for four years, when her aunt died and 
 left her all she had, including the business. She 
 afterwards married a servant of her aunt's, one Richard 
 Welch, and lived very happily with him for four 
 years, when her husband one day went out, with 
 fifty pounds in his pocket, to pay his brewer, and 
 never returned. 
 
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY AMAZONS. 179 
 
 For nearly twelve months she heard no tidings of 
 him, but one day came a letter, in which he told her 
 he had met a friend, and with him had too much 
 drink, went on board ship, and had more drink ; and 
 when he recovered from the effects of his debauch, 
 found himself classed as a recruit for his Majesty's 
 army, sailing for Helvoetsluys. The receipt of this 
 letter completely upset his wife, but only for a short 
 time, when she took the extraordinary resolution of 
 entering the army as a recruit, in order that she 
 might be sent to Flanders, and there might possibly 
 meet with her husband. She let her house, left her 
 furniture in charge of her neighbours, sent one child 
 to her mother's, and put the other out to nurse. She 
 then cut her hair short, put on a suit of her husband's 
 clothes, hat and wig, and buckled on a silver-hilted 
 sword. There was a law then in existence by which 
 it was an offence to carry out of the kingdom any 
 sum exceeding five pounds, but this she evaded by 
 quilting fifty guineas in the waistband of her breeches. 
 
 She then enlisted in a foot regiment under the 
 name of Christopher Welch, and was soon shipped, 
 with other recruits, and sent to Holland. She was, 
 with the others, put through some sort of drill, but 
 much time could not then be wasted on drill, and 
 then they were sent to the grand army, and incor- 
 porated in different regiments. Almost directly after 
 joining, she was wounded by a musket-ball in the leg, 
 at the battle of Landen, and had to quit the field. 
 This wound laid her up for two months, and when 
 she rejoined her regiment they were ordered into 
 winter quarters. Here she, in common with the 
 other British soldiers, helped the Dutch to repair 
 their dykes. 
 
 N 2 
 
ISO EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 In the following campaign she had the ill-luck to 
 be taken prisoner by the French, and was sent to 
 St. Germains en Laye, where Mary of Modena, the 
 wife of James II. paid particular attention to the 
 wants of the English prisoners, having them separ- 
 ated from the Dutch, and allowing each man five 
 farthings for tobacco, a pound of bread, and a pint 
 of wiue daily. She was imprisoned for nine days, 
 when an exchange of prisoners took place, and she 
 was released. 
 
 Once more the troops went into winter quarters, 
 and Mrs. Welch must needs ape the gallantry of her 
 comrades. She made fierce love to the daughter of 
 a rich burgher, and succeeded so well that the girl 
 would fain have married her. Now it so happened 
 that a sergeant of the same regiment loved the same 
 girl, but with other than honourable intentions, and 
 one day he endeavoured to gain her compliance by 
 force. The girl resisted and in the scuffle got nearly 
 all the clothes torn off her back. When Mrs. Welch 
 heard of this affair she * went for ' that sergeant, and 
 the result was a duel with swords. Mrs. Welch re- 
 ceived two wounds in her right arm, but she nearly 
 killed the sergeant, and afterwards, dreading his 
 animosity when he should have recovered, she ex- 
 changed into a dragoon regiment (Lord John Hayes) 
 and was present at the taking of Namur. 
 
 When the troops again went into winter quarters 
 a curious adventure befell her, which goes to prove 
 how completely masculine was her appearance. She 
 resisted the advances of a woman, who thereby was 
 so angered that she swore she would be revenged, 
 and accordingly, when a child was born to her, she 
 swore that the trooper, Christopher Welch, was its 
 
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY AMAZONS. 181 
 
 father. This, of course, could have been easily dis- 
 proved, but then good-bye to her hopes of meeting 
 with her husband ; so, after mature deliberation, she 
 accepted the paternity of the child, who, however, 
 did not trouble her for long, as it died in a month. 
 
 After the peace of Ryswick in 1697, the army was 
 partially disbanded, and Mrs. Welch returned home to 
 Dublin. She found her mother, children, and friends 
 all well, but finding that she was unrecognized, 
 owing to her dress and the hardships of campaigning, 
 she did not make herself known, but re-enlisted in 
 1701 in her old regiment of dragoons, on the break- 
 ing out of the War of Succession. She went through 
 the campaigns of 1702 and 1703, and was present at 
 many of the engagements therein, receiving a wound 
 in the hip, at Donawert, and, although attended by 
 three surgeons, her sex was not discovered. She 
 never forgot her quest, but all her inquiries after her 
 husband were in vain. Yet she unexpectedly came 
 upon him, after the battle of Hochstadt in 1704, 
 caressing and toying with a Dutch camp-follower. 
 A little time afterwards she discovered herself to him. 
 Having seen what she had, she would not return 
 to her husband as his wife, but passed as a long-lost 
 brother, and they met frequently. 
 
 At the battle of Ramilies, in 1705, a piece of a 
 shell struck the back of her head, and fractured her 
 skull, for which she underwent the operation of tre- 
 panning, and then it was, whilst unconscious, that her 
 sex was discovered, and her husband came forward 
 and claimed her as his wife. Her pay went on until 
 she was cured, when the officers of the regiment, 
 who, naturally, were interested in this very romantic 
 affair, made up a new wardrobe for her, and she was 
 
182 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 re-married to her husband with great solemnity, and 
 many and valuable were her marriage-presents. She 
 could not be idle, so she turned sutler, and, by the 
 indulgence of the officers, she was allowed to pitch 
 her tent in the front, whilst all the others were sent 
 to the rear, but she was virtually unsexed by the 
 rough ways of the camp, although a child was born 
 to her amongst the din and confusion of the cam- 
 paign. 
 
 Her husband was killed at the battle of Malplaquet, 
 in 1709, and then this rough woman could not help 
 showing that she possessed some of the softer feel- 
 ings of her sex. Her grief was overpowering. She 
 bit a great piece out of her arm, tore her hair, and 
 then threw herself upon the corpse in an ecstasy of 
 passion, and, had any weapon been handy, she would, 
 undoubtedly, have killed herself. With her own 
 hands she dug his grave, and with her own hands 
 would she have scraped the earth away, in order to 
 get one more glimpse of her husband's face, had she 
 not been prevented. She refused food ; she became 
 absolutely ill from grief, and yet, within eleven weeks 
 from her husband's death, she married a grenadier 
 named Hugh Jones ! Her second married life was 
 brief — for her husband was mortally wounded at the 
 siege of St. Venant. 
 
 After her husband's death, she got a living by 
 cooking for the officers, and went through the whole 
 campaign, till 1712, when she applied to the Duke 
 of Ormond for a pass to England — which he not 
 only gave her, but also money enough to defray 
 her expenses on the way. On her arrival in Eng- 
 land, she called on the Duke of Marlborough, to 
 see whether he could not get some provision made 
 
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY AMAZONS. 183 
 
 for her; but he was not in power, and, however 
 good his will towards her might have been, he had 
 not the means. She then tried the Duke of Argyle, 
 who advised her to have a petition to the Queen 
 drawn up, and take it to the Duke of Hamilton, 
 and he himself would back it up. 
 
 She did so, and took it to the duke, who, when 
 he was assured she was no impostor, advised her 
 to get a new petition drawn up, and present herself 
 to the Queen. So, the next day, she dressed herself 
 in her best, and went to Court, waiting patiently 
 at the foot of the great staircase, and when Queen 
 Anne, supported by the Duke of Argyle, came down, 
 she dropped on one knee, and presented her petition 
 to the Queen, who received it with a smile, and bade 
 her rise and be of good cheer, for that she would 
 provide for her ; and, perceiving her to be with child, 
 she added, ' If you are delivered of a boy, I will give 
 him a commission as soon as he is born.' Her Majesty 
 also ordered her fifty pounds, to defray the expenses 
 of her lying-in. She lived some little time in Lon- 
 don, being helped very materially by the officers to 
 whom she was known ; and it was during this time, 
 on Saturday morning, the 15th of November, 1712, 
 she was going through Hyde Park, and was an eye- 
 witness of the historical duel between Lord Mohun 
 and the Duke of Hamilton. 
 
 A natural longing came upon her to see her 
 mother and her children, and she wrote to her to 
 say she would be in Dublin by a certain date. The 
 old woman, although over a hundred years of age, 
 trudged the whole ten miles to Dublin, to see this 
 daughter whom she had so long given up as dead ; 
 and the meeting was very affecting. When she 
 
184 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 came to inquire after her children, she found one 
 had died at the age of eighteen, and the other was 
 in the workhouse, where it had very speedily been 
 placed by the nurse in whose charge it had been 
 left. She went to look after the furniture and goods 
 which she had housed with her neighbours; but 
 there was only one who would give any account of 
 them. A man had taken possession of her freehold 
 house, and refused to give it up ; and, having lost 
 the title-deeds, she could not force him, besides which 
 she had no money to carry on a lawsuit. 
 
 These misfortunes did not dishearten her ; she 
 always had been used to victualling. So she took a 
 public-house, and stocked it, and made pies, and 
 altogether was doing very well, when she must needs 
 go and marry a soldier named Davies, whose dis- 
 charge she bought, but he afterwards enlisted in the 
 Guards. 
 
 Queen Anne, besides her gift of fifty pounds, 
 ordered Mrs. Davies a shilling a day for life, which 
 Harley, Earl of Oxford, for some reason or other, 
 cut down to fivepence, with which she was fain 
 to be content until a change of ministry took place. 
 Then she applied to Mr. Craggs, and she got her 
 original pension restored. 
 
 She did not do very well in her business, but she 
 found plenty of friends in the officers of the Army 
 who knew her. She once more bought her hus- 
 band's discharge, and got him into Chelsea Hospital, 
 with the rank of sergeant. She also was received 
 into that institution ; and there she died on the 7th 
 of July, 1739, and was interred in the burying- ground 
 attached to Chelsea Hospital, with military honours. 
 
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY AMAZONS. 185 
 
 HANNAH Snell's grandfather entered the Army in 
 the reign of William III. as a volunteer, and, by his 
 personal bravery, he earned a commission as lieu- 
 tenant, with the rank of captain. He was wounded 
 at Blenheim, and mortally wounded at Malplaquet. 
 Her brother was also a soldier, and was killed at 
 Fontenoy; so that she may be said to have come 
 of a martial race. Her father was a hosier and dyer, 
 and she was born at Worcester on St. George's Day, 
 23rd of April, 1723. 
 
 According to a contemporary biography of her, 1 
 4 Hannah, when she was scarce Ten Years of Age, 
 had the seeds of Heroinism, as it were, implanted 
 in her nature, and she used often to declare to her 
 Companions that she would be a Soldier, if she lived ; 
 and, as a preceding Testimony of the Truth, she 
 formed a Company of young Soldiers among her 
 Playfellows, and of which she was chief Commander, 
 at the Head of whom she often appeared, and was 
 used to parade the whole City of Worcester. This 
 Body of young Volunteers were admired all over 
 the Town, and they were styled young " Amazon 
 Snell's Company " ; and this Martial Spirit grew up 
 with her, until it carried her through the many 
 Scenes and "Vicissitudes she encountered for nigh 
 five Years.' 
 
 Her father and mother being dead, she, in 1740, 
 moved to London, where she arrived on Christmas 
 Day, and took up her abode with one of her sisters, 
 who had married a carpenter named Gray, and was 
 living at Wapping. Two years afterwards she was 
 
 1 ' The Female Soldier ; or, The Surprising Life and Adven- 
 tures of Hannah Snell,' &c. London, 1750. 
 
186 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 married, at the Fleet, to a German or Dutch sailor 
 named James Summs, on the 6th of January, 1743 ; 
 but he was a worthless fellow, and as soon as he 
 found she was with child by him, having spent all her 
 money, he deserted her. She heard of his death 
 subsequently ; he was at Genoa, and, in a quarrel, he 
 killed a Genoese. For this he was condemned to 
 death, sewn up in a sack with a quantity of stones, 
 and sunk in the sea. Her child survived its birth but 
 seven months, and she was left a free woman. 
 
 Up to this time her story presents nothing of 
 particular interest ; but, like ' Long Meg of West- 
 minster,' she was a virago, more man than woman, 
 and, with the hope of some day meeting with her 
 husband, she donned male attire, and set forth on her 
 quest. She soon fell in with a recruiting party at 
 Coventry, whither she had walked, and where she 
 found her funds exhausted. A little drink, the accept- 
 ance of a shilling, a visit to a magistrate, were the 
 slight preliminaries to her military career, and the 
 27th of November, 1743, found her a private in the 
 army of King George II. The guinea, and five 
 shillings, her little « bounty money,' had to follow the 
 fate of all similar sums, in treating her comrades. 
 There was scant time for drills, and she was, after 
 about three weeks' preparation, drafted off to Carlisle 
 to join her regiment. There were no railway passes 
 in those days, so the weary march northward took 
 twenty-two days. 
 
 She had not been long in Carlisle before her ser- 
 geant, named Davis, requested her aid in an intrigue 
 he was endeavouring to establish with a young 
 woman of that town ; but, instead of helping him, she 
 warned the young person of his intentions, and abso- 
 
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY AMAZONS. 187 
 
 lutely won the girl's heart. Davis's jealousy was 
 excited, and to punish Jemmy Gray (which was the 
 name under which Hannah Snell had enlisted), he 
 reported her for some neglect of duty, and, as com- 
 manding officers then were rather severe than lenient 
 in their punishments, she was sentenced to receive 
 six hundred lashes, five hundred of which she abso- 
 lutely received, and would have taken the whole had 
 not some officers interfered. It seems marvellous that 
 her sex, when she was tied up and partially stripped, 
 was not discovered, and in a romance it would be a 
 weak spot ; but, as a matter- of-fact, no one suspected 
 she was a woman, and when her back was healed she 
 returned to her duty. Flogging was common enough 
 in those days. 
 
 But a worse danger of exposure threatened her, for 
 a fellow-townsman from Worcester enlisted in the 
 same regiment, and so she determined to desert. The 
 female friend on whose account she had suffered such 
 severe punishment, found some money, and Hannah 
 Snell fled towards Portsmouth, surreptitiously chang- 
 ing coats in a field by the way. She stopped but 
 little time in Portsmouth, and then she enlisted in 
 the Marines, in which corps she was certain to be 
 sent abroad on service, and might have greater 
 opportunities of meeting with her husband. 
 
 Scarce three weeks after her enlistment had elapsed 
 when a draft was made to join Admiral Boscawen's 
 fleet for the East Indies, and she was sent on board 
 the sloop of war, the Swallow, Here she soon be- 
 came very popular with her mess-mates, her skill in 
 cooking, washing, and mending their shirts made her 
 a general favourite, and she did her duty with the 
 best of her comrades, being especially noted for her 
 
188 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 smartness, so much so, indeed, that she was made an 
 officer's servant. 
 
 Those old ships were not very good sailors in a 
 gale. The French beat us hollow at ship-building, 
 and we much improved by studying the make of the 
 prizes we were constantly taking, so it is not to be 
 wondered at if that rolling old tub, the Swalloiv, came 
 to grief. The marvel would have been had it not 
 occurred. Twice, before the Cape was made, they 
 had to repair and refit. They were then ordered to 
 the Mauritius, and eventually they went to the Coro- 
 mandel coast, where they lauded and laid siege to 
 and took Areacopong. They then besieged Pondi- 
 cherry (in September, 1748) ; but that town was not 
 fated to fall into the hands of the British until 1760. 
 In all the hardships of the siege Hannah Snell bore 
 her full part, fording rivers breast high, sleeping in 
 and working at the trenches, &c, until at last she 
 was desperately wounded, receiving six shots in her 
 right leg, five in her left, and a bullet in her groin. 
 Anyone would think that thus wounded, and in 
 hospital, her sex would have been discovered ; but it 
 was not. She managed to extract the ball from her 
 groin, and with the connivance of an old black nurse, 
 she always dressed the wound herself, so that the 
 surgeons did not know of its existence. 
 
 Three months she lay in hospital, going back to 
 her duty as a Marine on her discharge. But her 
 comrades bantered her on her somewhat feminine 
 appearance, her smooth cheeks not being in accord- 
 ance with her age. Besides, she was somewhat 
 quiet, and different from the rollicking Jack Tars by 
 whom she was surrounded, and so she earned the 
 name of Miss Molly Gray. A continuance of this 
 
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY AMAZONS. 189 
 
 quiet role might have led to discovery, so when they 
 came to Lisbon, and the ' liberty men ' went on shore, 
 she was as racketty as any of them, and ' Miss Molly ' 
 was soon lost, and in her place was ' Hearty Jemmy.' 
 From Lisbon they sailed for home, and on her 
 arrival at Spithead, she was either discharged, or sent 
 on furlough ; at all events, there ended her military 
 and naval career, for she went straight to her sister 
 at Wapping, and was at once recognized. 
 
 Campaigning had made her restless, and, although 
 many of the officers who had known her assisted her 
 pecuniarily, it was light come, light go, and the 
 money was soon spent. So her friends advised her 
 to petition the Duke of Cumberland, pointing out her 
 services, and also dilating upon her wounds. On the 
 16th of June, 1750, she found a very favourable 
 opportunity of presenting her memorandum to the 
 duke, and, after full inquiry, she was awarded a 
 pension of a shilling a day. This, however, would 
 not keep her, and finding that, as an Amazon, she 
 had a market value, she engaged with the proprietor 
 of the New Wells in Goodman's Fields (the Royalty 
 Theatre, Wellclose Square) to appear on the stage 
 as a soldier. In this character she sang several 
 songs, and * She appears regularly dress'd in her 
 Regimentals from Top to Toe, with all the Accoutre- 
 ments requisite for the due Performance of her 
 Military Exercises. Here she and her Attendants fill 
 up the Stage in a very agreeable Manner. The tabor 
 and Drum give Life to her March, and she traverses 
 the stage two or three times over, Step by Step, in 
 the same Manner as our Soldiers march on the Parade 
 in St. James's Park. 
 
 ' After the Spectators have been sufficiently amused 
 
190 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 with this formal Procession, she begins her Military 
 exercises, and goes through the whole Catechism (if I 
 may be allowed the Expression) with so much Dex- 
 terity and Address, and with so little Hesitation or 
 Default, that great Numbers even of Veteran Soldiers, 
 who have resorted to the Wells out of mere curiosity 
 only, have frankly acknowledged that she executes 
 what she undertakes to Admiration, and that the 
 universal Applause which she meets with is by no 
 means the Result of Partiality to her in Consideration 
 of her Sex, but is due to her, without Favour or Affec- 
 tion, as the Effect of her extraordinary Merit. 
 
 'As our Readers may be desirous of being informed 
 in what Dress she now appears, we think it proper to 
 inform them that she wears Men's CI oaths, being, as 
 she says, determined so to do, and having bought 
 new Cloathing for that Purpose.' 
 
 This theatrical performance, of course, could not 
 last long; so, with her savings, she took a public- 
 house at Wapping, which she christened ' The Widow 
 in Masquerade,' and on one side of the sign she was 
 delineated in her full regimentals, on the other in 
 plain clothes. 
 
 She afterwards married, for in the Universal 
 Chronicle (November -^-, 1759, p. 359, col. 3) 
 may be read : ' Marriages. At Newbury, in the 
 county of Berks, the famous Hannah Snell, who 
 served as a marine in the last war, and was wounded 
 at the siege of Pondicherry, to a carpenter of that 
 place.' His name was Eyles. In 1789 she became 
 insane, and was taken to Bethlehem, where she died 
 on the 8th of February, 1792, aged sixty-nine. 
 
 The examples quoted of women joining the army 
 are by no means singular, for in 1761 a lynx-eyed 
 
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY AMAZONS. 191 
 
 sergeant detected a woman who wished to enlist 
 under the name of Paul Daniel, in the hope that she 
 might be sent to Germany, where her husband was 
 then serving in the army. And in the same year a 
 woman named Hannah Witney was masquerading at 
 Plymouth in man's attire, and was laid hold of by a 
 press-gang and lodged in Plymouth gaol. She was 
 so disgusted at the treatment she received that she 
 disclosed her sex, at the same time telling the aston- 
 ished authorities that she had served as a marine for 
 five years. 
 
 There is a curious little chap-book, now very rare, 
 of the ' Life and Adventures of Maria Knowles . . . 
 by William Fairbank, Sergeant-major of the 66th 
 Regiment of Foot,' and, as it is very short, it may be 
 as well to give its ipsissima verba. 
 
 * The heroine of the following story is the only 
 daughter of Mr. John Knowles, a reputed farmer, 1 of 
 the parish of Bridworth, in the county of Cheshire, 
 where Maria was born, and was her father's only 
 daughter. At an early age she lost her mother, and 
 was brought up under the care of a mother-in-law, 
 who treated her with more kindness than is usually 
 done to motherless children. Her father having no 
 other child, his house might have proved a comfort- 
 able home for one of a more sober disposition. At 
 the age of nineteen she was so very tall that she was 
 styled the * Tall Girl.' She had a very handsome face, 
 which gained her plenty of sweethearts. Many 
 young men felt the weight of her fists for giving her 
 offences. She refused many offers of marriage, and 
 that from persons of fortune. 
 
 1 Being one day at the market in Warrington, she 
 A farmer of repute. 
 
192 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 saw one Cliff, a sergeant of the Guards on the re- 
 cruiting service, with whom she fell deeply in love ; 
 he in a short time was called to join the regiment, 
 and she, not being able to bear her love-sick passion, 
 eloped from her father's house, immediately went up 
 to London, disguised in man's apparel, and enlisted 
 in the same regiment with her sweetheart, in which 
 she made a most martial appearance in her regi- 
 mentals ; her height covered the deception. As a red 
 coat captivates the fair sex, our female soldier made 
 great advances, being a lover of mirth and a smart 
 girl .... 
 
 'A part of the Guards were ordered to Holland, 
 with whom sailed Maria and her sweetheart. The 
 British troops were stationed at Dort, and a party 
 was sent in gunboats to annoy the French, who were 
 then besieging Williamstadt. From Holland they 
 were ordered to French Flanders, where Maria was 
 at several desperate battles and sieges. At Dunkirk 
 she was wounded in three different parts, in her right 
 shoulder, in her right arm, and thigh, which dis- 
 covered her sex, and, of course, her secret. 
 
 1 After being recovered from her wounds, and ques- 
 tioned by her commanding officer, she related to him 
 the particulars of her life, and the reason of her being 
 disguised, and entering for a soldier, which was to 
 seek her fortune, and share the fate of the man on 
 whom she had irrevocably fixed her affection. 
 
 ■ The news soon reached her lover, who flew to the 
 arms of so faithful a girl, whom he embraced with 
 the most ardent zeal, vowing an eternal constancy to 
 her ; and, in order to reward such faithful love, the 
 officers raised a handsome subscription for them, 
 
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY AMAZONS. 193 
 
 after which they were married by the chaplain of the 
 regiment, to their great joy 
 
 * But this was not all, for the adjutant of the 66th 
 Regiment of Foot dying of his wounds, Sergeant Cliff 
 was promoted to that berth, and Sergeant Fairbank 
 to sergeant-major, as Cliff and him were always com- 
 rades together. In a little time the regiment was 
 sent to Gibraltar, where they stayed most part of the 
 year, during which Mrs. Cliff was delivered of a fine 
 son, after which the regiment was sent to the West 
 Indies, and, after a passage of twenty-eight days, 
 landed safely on the island of St. Vincent, where 
 they remained some time ; but, the yellow fever rag- 
 ing among the troops, Mr. Cliff died, to the great 
 grief of his disconsolate wife and her young son. 
 She was still afraid of the raging distemper, but, 
 happily for her and her son, neither of them took it. 
 
 * Great indulgence was given her, and also pro- 
 visions allowed them both ; but this did not suffice, 
 for Mrs. Cliff, losing the man she had ventured her 
 life so many times for, was now very unhappy, and 
 made application to the commanding officer for her 
 passage to England ; and a great many men, unfit 
 for duty, coming home, she was admitted a passen- 
 ger. I, being unfit to act as sergeant-major, on 
 account of a wound that I received in my left leg, 
 the same day Mrs. Cliff was wounded, and although it 
 was cured, as soon as I came into a hot country it 
 broke out again, and I, being unfit for duty, was sent 
 home, and recommended. 1 So I came home in the 
 same ship, with this difference, that she was in the 
 cabin, and I among the men. We sailed in the 
 Eleanor on the 25th of January, 1798, and, after forty 
 
 1 For a pension. 
 
 O 
 
194 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 days' sail, we reached Spithead, and, after perform- 
 ing a short quarantine, we landed at Portsmouth on 
 the 16th of March, where I left Mrs. Cliff to pur- 
 sue her journey to her father's, and I came to 
 London.' 
 
 I have been unable to trace the fate of this heroine 
 any further. 
 
 There is yet another woman of the eighteenth 
 century, who acted the part both of soldier and 
 sailor ; and we read of her in the Times, 4th of 
 November, 1799. 
 
 1 There is at present in the Middlesex Hospital a 
 young and delicate female, who calls herself Miss 
 T — lb — t, and who is said to be related to some 
 families of distinction ; her story is very singular : — 
 At an early period of her life, having been deprived, 
 by the villainy of a trustee, of a sum of money be- 
 queathed to her by a deceased relation of high rank, 
 she followed the fortunes of a young naval officer to 
 whom she was attached, and personated a common 
 sailor before the mast, during a cruise in the north 
 seas. In consequence of a lover's quarrel she quit- 
 ted the ship, and assumed, for a time, the military 
 character; but her passion for the sea prevailing, 
 she returned to her favourite element, did good ser- 
 vice, and received a severe wound on board Earl St. 
 Vincent's ship, on the glorious 14th of February, 1 and 
 again bled in the cause of her country in the engage- 
 ment off Camperdown. On this last occasion her 
 knee was shattered, and an amputation is likely to 
 ensue. This spirited female, we understand, receives 
 
 1 The action off Cape St. Vincent, when Sir John Jervis, with 
 fifteen sail of the line, attacked and defeated the Spanish fleet, 
 consisting of twenty-seven sail of the line. 
 
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY AMAZONS. 195 
 
 a pension of £20 from an illustrious lady, which is 
 about to be doubled.' 
 
 Voila comment on ecrit Vhistoire ! This newspaper 
 report is about as truthful as nine-tenths of the para- 
 graphs now-a-days ; there is a substratum of truth, 
 but not ' the whole truth and nothing but the truth/ 
 But this can be read in a little tractate entitled, * The 
 Life and Surprising Adventures of Mary Ann Talbot, 
 in the name of John Taylor. Related by herself/ 
 London, 1809. This pamphlet is extracted from 
 'Kirby's Wonderful Museum of Remarkable Char- 
 acters, &c./ and professes to be an autobiography. 
 It is highly probable that it is so, as she was a 
 domestic servant in Mr. Kirby's house for three years 
 before her death. 
 
 According to this relation she was the youngest of 
 sixteen natural children whom her mother had by 
 Lord William Talbot, Baron of Hensol, steward of 
 his Majesty's household, and colonel of the Glamor- 
 ganshire Militia. She was born the 2nd of February, 
 1778, and her mother died on giving her birth. She 
 was put out to nurse in the country, until she was five 
 years of age, when she was placed in a boarding- 
 school at Chester, where she remained nine years, 
 being looked after by a married sister who lived at 
 Trevalyn, county Denbigh. At her death a man 
 named Sucker, living at Newport, county Salop, be- 
 came her guardian, and he behaved to her with such 
 severity that she cordially hated him. He introduced 
 her to a Captain Bo wen, of the 82 nd Regiment of Foot, 
 who took her to London in January, 1792, where, 
 friendless and alone, she soon became his victim. 
 
 His regiment was ordered to embark for Santo 
 Domingo, and he had so thoroughly subjugated her 
 
 02 
 
196 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 to his will, and she was so utterly helpless, that she 
 accompanied him on board as his ' little foot page.' 
 Captain Bowen made John Taylor (for such was 
 the name Miss Talbot then took) thoroughly act up 
 to her assumed character, and she had to live and 
 mess with the lowest of the ship's company, and, 
 what was more, had to do her turn of duty with the 
 ship's crew. 
 
 After a stormy voyage, with short provisions, they 
 arrived at Port-au-Prince, but stayed there a very 
 short time, as orders came for them to return to 
 Europe, and join the troops on the Continent, under 
 the command of His Royal Highness the Duke of 
 York. Then it was that Captain Bowen made her 
 enrol herself as a drummer in his regiment, threaten- 
 ing her unless she did so he would sell her up-country 
 for a slave. There was nothing for her but to comply, 
 so she put on the clothes and learned the business of 
 a drummer-boy, having, besides, still to be the drudge 
 of her paramour. 
 
 At the siege of Valenciennes she received two 
 wounds, neither of them severe enough to incapacitate 
 her from serving, and she cured them, without going 
 into hospital, with a little basilicon, lint, and Dutch 
 drops. In this siege Captain Bowen was killed, and 
 she, finding the key of his desk in his pocket, search- 
 ed the desk and found several letters relating to her, 
 from her quondam guardian, Sucker. 
 
 Being now released from her servitude, she began 
 to think of quitting the service, and, having changed 
 her military dress for one she had worn on ship-board, 
 she deserted, and, after some wandering, reached 
 Luxembourg, but, it being in the occupation of the 
 French, she was not permitted to go further. Being 
 
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY AMAZONS. 197 
 
 thus foiled in her design of reaching England, and 
 destitute of every necessary of life, she was compelled 
 to engage on board a French lugger, a cruiser. In 
 the course of their voyage, they fell in with the 
 British fleet under the command of Lord Howe. The 
 French vessel made a show of fighting, and John 
 Taylor refused to fight against her countrymen, for 
 which she received a severe thrashing from the 
 French captain. 
 
 After a very faint resistance the lugger was cap- 
 tured, and she, as being English, was taken on board 
 the Queen Charlotte to be interrogated by Lord Howe. 
 Her story, being backed up by the French captain, 
 gained her release, and she was allowed to join the 
 navy, a berth being found for her on board the 
 Brunswick as powder-monkey, her duty being to hand 
 powder, &c, for the guns when in action. Captain 
 Harvey, of the Brunswick, noticed the pseudo lad, 
 and straightly examined her as to whether she had 
 not run away from school, or if she had any friends ; 
 but she disarmed his suspicions by telling him her 
 father and mother were dead, and she had not a 
 friend in the world ; yet the kindly captain took such 
 a friendly interest in her that he made her principal 
 cabin-boy. 
 
 In the memorable fight off Brest, on the • Glorious 
 First of June,' Captain Harvey was killed, and our 
 heroine severely wounded both in the ankle by a 
 grape-shot and in the thigh a little above the knee. 
 She was, of course, taken to the cockpit; but the 
 surgeon could not extract the ball in the ankle, and 
 would not venture to cut it out ; nor, when they 
 arrived home, and she was taken to Haslar Hospital, 
 could they extract the ball. Partially cured, she 
 
198 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 was dischargee!, and shipped on board the Vesuvius 
 bomb, belonging to Sir Sydney Smith's squadron, 
 where she acted as midshipman, although she did 
 not receive the pay which should have accompanied 
 the position ; and, while thus serving, a little anec- 
 dote she tells give us a fair idea of what stuff she 
 was made. 
 
 1 It was necessary for some one on board to go to 
 the jib-boom to catch the jib-sheet, which in the gale 
 had got loose. The continual lungeing of the ship 
 rendered this duty particularly hazardous, and there 
 was not a seaman on board but rejected this office. I 
 was acting in the capacity of midshipman, though I 
 never received pay for my service in this ship but as 
 a common man. The circumstance I mention only 
 to show that it was not my particular duty to under- 
 take the task, which, on the refusal of several who 
 were asked, I voluntarily undertook. Indeed, the 
 preservation of us all depended on this exertion. On 
 reaching the jib-boom I was under the necessity of 
 lashing myself fast to it, for the ship every minute 
 making a fresh lunge, without such a precaution I 
 should inevitably have been washed away. The 
 surges continually breaking over me, I suffered an 
 uninterrupted wash and fatigue for six hours before I 
 could quit the post 1 occupied. When danger is 
 over, a sailor has little thought or reflection, and my 
 mess-mates, who had witnessed the perilous situation 
 in which I was placed, passed it off with a joke 
 observing, " that I had only been sipping sea broth "; 
 but it was a broth of a quality that, though most sea- 
 men relish, yet few, I imagine, would like to take it 
 in the quantity I was compelled to do/ 
 
 By the fortune of war the Vesuvius was captured, 
 
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY AMAZONS. 199 
 
 and the crew were conveyed to Dunkirk, where they 
 were lodged in the prison of St. Clair, and the rigour 
 of their captivity seems to have been extreme, espe- 
 cially in the case of Mary Anne Talbot", who perhaps 
 partially deserved it, as she attempted, in company 
 with a mess-mate, to escape. ' We were both con- 
 fined in separate dungeons, where it was so dark that 
 I never saw daylight during the space of eleven 
 weeks, and the only allowance I received was bread 
 and water, let down to me from the top of the 
 cell. My bed consisted only of a little straw, not 
 more than half a truss, which was never changed. 
 For two days 1 was so ill in this dreadful place that 
 I was unable to stir from my wretched couch to 
 reach the miserable pittance, which, in consequence, 
 was drawn up in the same state. The next morning, 
 a person — who, I suppose, was the keeper of the 
 place — came into the dungeon without a light (which 
 way he came I know not, but I suppose through a 
 private door through which I afterwards passed to 
 be released), and called to me, "Are you dead?" 
 To this question I was only able to reply by request- 
 ing a little water, being parched almost to death by 
 thirst, resulting from the fever which preyed on me. 
 He told me he had none, and left me in a brutal 
 manner, without offering the least relief. Nature 
 quickly restored me to health, and I sought the 
 bread and water with as eager an inclination as a 
 glutton would seek a feast. About five weeks after 
 my illness, an exchange of prisoners taking place, I 
 obtained my liberty.' 
 
 She then shipped to America as steward, and from 
 thence to England, and was going on a voyage to 
 the Mediterranean, when she was seized by a press- 
 
200 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 gang, and sent on board a tender. But she had 
 no wish to serve His Majesty at sea any more, and, 
 discovering her sex, she was examined by a surgeon, 
 and of course at once discharged. 
 
 Her little stock of money getting low, she applied 
 at the Navy pay-office, in Somerset House, for the 
 cash due to her whilst serving in the Brunswick and 
 Vesuvius, as well as her share of prize-money, arising 
 from her being present on the ' glorious 1st of June.' 
 She was referred to a prize-agent, who directed her 
 to call again; this not being to her taste, she 
 returned to Somerset House, and indulged in very 
 rough language, for which she was taken off to 
 Bow Street. She told her story, and was ordered 
 to appear again, when a subscription was got up 
 in her behalf; and she was paid twelve shillings a 
 week, until she received her money from the Govern- 
 ment. 
 
 Her old wound in the leg became bad again, and 
 she went into St. Bartholomew's Hospital, and on 
 her discharge, partially cured, she petitioned the 
 King and the Duke of York for relief. The latter 
 gave her five pounds. Then she cast about for the 
 means of earning a livelihood, and bethought her 
 that, when she was a prisoner at Dunkirk, she had 
 watched a German make little ornaments out of 
 gold-wire, which he sold at a good profit ; and she 
 did the same, working at the shop of a jeweller in 
 St. Giles's, and so expert was she that she made 
 the chains for a gold bracelet worn by Queen Char- 
 lotte. But the old wound still broke out, and she 
 went into St. George's Hospital for seven months. 
 When she came out, she led a shiftless, loafing exist- 
 ence, always begging for money — of Mr. Dundas, of 
 
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY AMAZONS. 201 
 
 the Duke of York, or anyone else that might possibly 
 be generous. 
 
 At last these kind friends got her case introduced 
 in the very highest quarters, and she kissed the 
 Queen's hand at Buckingham House, as it was then 
 called ; and soon afterwards she was directed to 
 apply at the War Office, in her sailor's dress, to 
 receive a half-year's payment of a pension the Queen 
 had granted her, in the name of John Taylor. Still 
 her wound kept breaking out, and twice she had 
 to go into Middlesex Hospital. She had some idea 
 of going on the stage, and performed several parts 
 at the Thespian Society in Tottenham Court Road, 
 but she gave it up, finding begging a more profitable 
 business ; but even then she had to go to Newgate 
 for a small debt. She took in washing, but the 
 people did not pay her, and misfortune pursued her 
 everywhere. 
 
 One night, in September, 1804, she was thrown 
 from a coach into a hole left by the carelessness of 
 some firemen, in Church Lane, Whitechapel, and she 
 broke her arm, besides bruising herself badly. The 
 fire office would give her no compensation, but many 
 people were interested in her case, among them a 
 Mr. Kirby, a publisher in Paternoster Row, who 
 employed her as a domestic servant. In 1807, she 
 fell into a decline, doubtless induced by the very 
 free life she had led; and she died on the 4th of 
 February, 1808, having just completed her thirtieth 
 year. 
 
 It is not to be thought that England enjoyed the 
 monopoly of these viragos — the country of Jeanne 
 d'Arc was quite equal to the occasion, and Renee 
 Bordereau affords an illustration for the last century. 
 
202 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 She was born, of peasant parents, in 1770, at the 
 village of Soulaine, near Angers; and at the time 
 of the insurrection in La Vendue, when the royalists 
 were so cruelly punished, she lost forty-two relations 
 in the struggle, her father being murdered before 
 her eyes. 
 
 This crushed out of her any soft and feminine 
 feelings she might have possessed, and she vowed 
 vengeance on the hated Republicans. She obtained 
 a musket, taught herself how to use it, learned some 
 elementary drill, and then, donning man's attire, 
 joined the royalists. Among them she was known 
 by the name of Langevin, and where the fight was 
 fiercest, there she would be, and none suspected that 
 the daring trooper was a woman. On horseback, 
 and on foot, she fought in above two hundred battles 
 and skirmishes, frequently wounded, but seldom 
 much hurt. Such was the terror with which she 
 inspired the Bonapartists, that, when the rebellion 
 was put down, Napoleon specially exempted Lan- 
 gevin from pardon, and she languished in prison 
 until the Restoration. She died in 1828. 
 
203 
 
 THE 'TIMES' AND ITS FOUNDER. 
 
 DISCURSIVE book anent the eighteenth 
 century, as this is, would be incomplete 
 without a mention of one of the greatest 
 powers which it produced. This mar- 
 vellous newspaper, whose utterances, at 
 one time, exercised a sensible influence over the whole 
 of the civilised world, and which, even now, is the 
 most potent of all the English press, was founded by- 
 Mr. John Walter, on January 1, 1788. 
 
 This gentleman was born either in 1738 or 1739, 
 and his father followed the business of a ' coal buyer,' 
 which meant that he bought coals at the pit's mouth, 
 and then shipped them to any desired port, or market. 
 In those days almost all coals came, by sea, from 
 Newcastle, and its district, because of the facility of 
 carriage ; the great inland beds being practically un- 
 worked, and in many cases utterly unknown : it being 
 reserved for the giant age of steam to develop their 
 marvellous resources. 
 
 His father died in 1755, John Walter then being 
 seventeen and, boy though he was, he at once succeed- 
 ed to his father's business. In it he was diligent and 
 throve well, and he so won the confidence and 
 respect of his brother ' coal buyers ' that when a 
 
204 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 larger Coal Exchange was found necessary, in order to 
 accommodate, and keep pace with its increasing busi- 
 ness, the whole of the arrangements, plans, and direc- 
 tions were left in his hands. When the building was 
 completed, he was rewarded by his brethren in trade 
 with the position of manager, and afterwards he 
 became Chairman to the Body of Coal Buyers. 
 
 He married, and, in 1771, things had gone so prosper- 
 ously with him that he bought a house with some 
 ground at Battersea Rise, and here he lived, and 
 reared his family of six children, until his bankruptcy, 
 when it was sold. He also took unto himself partners, 
 and was the head of the firm of Walter, Bradley, and 
 Sage. For some time all went well, but competition 
 arose, and the old-fashioned way of doing business 
 could not hold its own against the keenness, and cut- 
 ting, of the new style. Let us hear him tell his own 
 story. 1 
 
 ' I shall forbear relating the various scenes of busi- 
 ness I was engaged in prior to my embarking in 
 Lloyd's Rooms ; sufficient it is to remark that a very 
 extensive trade I entered into at the early age of 
 seventeen, when my father died, rewarded a strong 
 spirit of industry, and, for the first ten or twelve years, 
 with a satisfactory increase of fortune ; but a number 
 of inconsiderable dealers, by undermining the fair 
 trader, and other dishonourable practices, reduced the 
 profits, and made them inadequate to the risque and 
 capital employed. It happened unfortunately for me, 
 about that time, some policy brokers, who had large 
 orders for insurances on foreign Indiamen and other 
 adventures, found their way to the Coal Market, a 
 
 1 ' The case of Mr. John Walter, of London, Merchant.' 
 London, 1781. 
 
THE < TIMES' AND ITS FOUNDER 205 
 
 building of which I was the principal planner and 
 manager. 
 
 * I was accustomed, with a few others, to underwrite 
 the vessels particularly employed in that trade, and 
 success attended the step, because the risque was 
 fair, and the premiums adequate. This was my temp- 
 tation for inclining to their solicitations of frequent- 
 ing Lloyd's Rooms. 1 With great reluctance I com- 
 plain that I quitted a trade where low art and cunning 
 combated the fair principles of commerce, which my 
 mind resisted as my fortune increased ; but from the 
 change I had to encounter deception and fraud, in a 
 more dangerous but subtle degree. 
 
 ' The misfortunes of the war were of great magni- 
 tude to the Underwriters, but they were considerably 
 multiplied by the villainy and depravity of Mankind. 
 In the year 1776, at a time when they received only 
 peace premiums, American privateers swarmed on 
 the seas, drove to desperation by the Boston port act 
 passing at the close of the preceding year, to prohibit 
 their fisheries, and our trade fell a rapid prey before 
 government had notice to apply the least protection. 
 Flushed with success, it increased the number of 
 their armed vessels, and proved such a source of 
 riches as enabled them to open a trade with France, 
 who had, hitherto, been only a silent spectator, and 
 produced the sinews of a war which then unhappily 
 commenced.' 
 
 He then details the causes which led to his bank- 
 ruptcy — how the wars with the French, Spaniards, 
 and Dutch, all of whom had their men-of-war and 
 privateers, which preyed upon our commerce, ruined 
 the underwriters, and continues, 
 
 1 Then in Lombard Street. 
 
■206 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 6 In two years only of the war I lost, on a balance, 
 thirty-one thousand pounds, which obliged me, in 
 1781, to quit the Coal Trade, after carrying it on so 
 many years, when I had returned ' (? turned over) 
 < above a Million of money, the profits of which have 
 been sunk as an Underwriter, that I might have the 
 use of my capital employed in it, to pay my unfortu- 
 nate losses .... Last year, I was obliged to make 
 a sacrifice of my desirable habitation at Battersea 
 Rise, where I had resided ten years, and expended a 
 considerable sum of money, the fruits of many years of 
 industry, before I became acquainted with Lloyd's 
 Rooms. 
 
 * These reserves, however, proved ineffectual, and 
 I found it necessary, on examining the state of my 
 accounts early in January last, to call my Creditors 
 together; for, though some months preceding I 
 found my fortune rapidly on the decline, I never 
 suspected my being insolvent till that view of my 
 affairs, when I found a balance in my favour of only 
 nine thousand pounds, from which was to be de- 
 ducted a fourth part owing me by brokers, who, 
 unfortunately for me as well as themselves, were 
 become bankrupts. This surplus, it was clear, would 
 not bear me through known, though unsettled, losses, 
 besides what might arise on unexpired risques. I 
 therefore, without attempting to borrow a shilling 
 from a friend, resorting to false Credit, or using any 
 subterfuge whatever, after depositing what money 
 remained in my hands, the property of others, laid 
 the state of my affairs before my Creditors. 
 
 'This upright conduct made them my friends; 
 they immediately invested me with full power to 
 settle my own affairs, and have acted with liberality 
 
THE » TIMES' AND ITS FOUNDER. 207 
 
 and kindness. They were indebted for the early- 
 knowledge I gave them of my affairs to the regu- 
 larity of my accounts ; for, had I rested my inquiry 
 till after the broker's yearly accounts were chequed, 
 in all probability a very trifling dividend would have 
 ensued. Had the merchant been obliged to stand his 
 own risque during the late war, few concerned on 
 the seas would have been able to withstand the 
 magnitude of their losses. 
 
 ' The only alleviation to comfort me in this afflic- 
 tion has arose from the consideration that I have 
 acted honourably by all men ; that, neither in pros- 
 perity nor adversity, have I ever been influenced by 
 mean or mercenary motives in my connections with 
 the world, of which I can give the most satisfactory 
 proofs; that, when in my power, benevolence ever 
 attended my steps ; the deserving and needy never 
 resorted to me in vain, nor has gratitude ever been 
 wanting to express any obligations or kindnesses 
 received from those I have had transactions with by 
 every return in my power. I have the further con- 
 solation of declaring that, in winding up my affairs, 
 I have acted with the strictest impartiality in every 
 demand both for and against my estate ; that I have 
 (unsolicited) attended every meeting at Guildhall to 
 protect it against plunder. A dividend was made as 
 soon as the bankrupt laws would permit, and the 
 surplus laid out in interest for the benefit of the 
 estate, till a fair time is allowed to know what de- 
 mands may come against it. I am fully convinced 
 that it will not be £15,000 deficient; above double 
 that sum I have left in Lloyd's Kooms as a profit 
 among the brokers. 
 
 1 No prospect opening of embarking again in busi- 
 
208 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 ness for want of Capital to cany it on, I was advised 
 to make my case known to the administration, which 
 has been done both by public and private application 
 of my friends, who kindly interceded in my behalf 
 for some respectable post under Government, and 
 met with that kind reception from the Minister 
 which gave me every prospect of success, which I 
 flatter myself I have some natural claim to, from the 
 consideration that, as trade is the support of the 
 nation, it could not be carried on without Underwriters. 
 1 And as the want of protection to the trade of 
 the Country, from the host of enemies we had to 
 combat, occasioned by misfortunes, whom could I 
 fly to with more propriety than to Government ? as, 
 by endeavouring to protect commerce, I fell a martyr 
 on the conclusion of an unfortunate war. I was 
 flattered with hopes that my pretensions to an ap- 
 pointment were not visionary, and that I was not 
 wanting in ability to discharge the duties of any 
 place I might have the honour to fill. The change 
 of administration 1 which happened soon after was 
 death to my hopes, and, as I had little expectation of 
 making equal interest with the Minister who suc- 
 ceeded, I have turned my thoughts to a matter which 
 appeared capable of being a most essential improve- 
 ment in the conduct of the Press ; 2 and, by great 
 attention and assiduity for a year past, it is now 
 reduced from a very voluminous state and great 
 incorrectness to a system which, I hope, will meet 
 the public approbation and countenance. 
 
 1 Lord North resigned, and Lord Rockingham succeeded as 
 Premier, 1782. 
 
 2 Logotypes — or printing types in which words, etc., were 
 cast, instead of single letters. 
 
< THE TIMES' AND ITS FOUNDER. 209 
 
 ' Such is the brief state of a Case which I trust 
 humanity will consider deserving a better fate. 
 Judge what must be my sensations on this trying 
 occasion : twenty-six years in the prime of life passed 
 away, all the fortune I had acquired by a studious 
 attention to business sunk by hasty strides, and the 
 world to begin afresh, with the daily introduction to 
 my view of a wife and six children unprovided for, 
 and dependent on me for support. Feeling hearts 
 may sympathise at the relation, none but parents 
 can conceive the anxiety of my mind in such a state 
 of uncertainty and suspense.' 
 
 From an unprejudiced perusal of this ' case, 1 the 
 reader can but come to the conclusion that Mr. John 
 Walter was not overburdened with that inconvenient 
 commodity — modesty ; and that his logic — judged by 
 ordinary rules — is decidedly faulty. But that he did 
 try to help himself, is evidenced by the following 
 advertisement in the Morning Post of July 21, 1784 : 
 
 * To the Right Hon. the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Common- 
 councilmen of the City of London. 
 
 1 My Lord and Gentlemen, 
 
 < The Office of Principal Land Coal 
 Meter of this City being at present vacant by the 
 death of Mr. John Evans, permit me to solicit the 
 honour of succeeding him. My pretensions to your 
 countenance on this occasion are the misfortunes in 
 which (in common with many other respectable 
 Citizens) I have been involved by the calamities of 
 the late war, and an unblemished reputation, 
 which has survived the wreck of my fortune. Hav- 
 ing been a Liveryman twenty-four years, during 
 which time I carried on an extensive branch of the 
 
210 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 coal trade, my fellow-citizens cannot well be unac- 
 quainted with my character ; and my having been 
 greatly instrumental in establishing the very office 
 which I solicit your interest to fill, will, I hope, be 
 deemed an additional recommendation to your 
 patronage. 
 
 1 If my pretensions should meet your approbation, 
 and be crowned with success, I shall ever retain a 
 lively sense of so signal an obligation on, 
 ' My Lord and Gentlemen, 
 i Your most obedient, devoted, humble servant, 
 
 « John Walter. 
 
 1 Printing House Square, Blackfriars.' 
 
 We hear of him again in connection with this 
 situation, which he did not suceeed in obtaining, in 
 an advertisement in the Morning Post, 30th of July, 
 1784. 
 
 1 To the Right Hon. the Lord Mayor, fyc. 
 
 1 The Report, which a few days ago was credited by 
 few, is now confirmed by many, and believed by all 
 men, that a Coalition has been formed for the pur- 
 pose of forcing you to bestow the emoluments of the 
 Principal Land Coal Meter Office on two Aldermen, 
 and it has been agreed that, on the day of the Elec- 
 tion, one of them shall decline the Contest, and make 
 a transfer to the other of the votes which some of you 
 were pleased to engage to him . . . 
 
 'My pretensions I submit to the Corporation at 
 large, and I strongly solicit the assistance of the 
 merchants and traders of the Metropolis to join their 
 efforts, and endeavour to wrest the power of appoint- 
 ment from the hands of a Junto, and restore the 
 freedom of Election. Assert your independence, 
 
< THE TIMES' AND ITS FOUNDER. 2U 
 
 and consequence, in time; with your breath you can 
 blast the Coalition in its infancy ; but, if you suffer it 
 to conquer you in its present state, it will become a 
 Hydra that will swallow up your Franchises, and leave 
 you, like a Cathedral Chapter, the liberty of obeying 
 a conge cVelire sent to you by a self-constituted faction. 
 1 1 am, &c, &c, 
 
 « John Walter. 
 
 1 Printing House Square, Blackf riars.' 
 
 How did he come to this (to us) familiar address ? 
 It was by a chance which came in his way, and he 
 seized it. In 1782 he, somehow, became acquainted 
 with a compositor named Henry Johnson, who point- 
 ed out the trouble and loss of time occasioned by set- 
 ting up words with types of a single letter, and pro- 
 posed that at all events those words mostly in use 
 should be cast in one. These were called ' Logo- 
 types' (or word types), and printing, therefore, was 
 called ' Logography.' Caslon at first made the types 
 — but there is evidence that they quarrelled, for in a 
 letter of August 12, 1785, in the Daily Universal 
 Register of that date, which he reprinted in broadside 
 form, he says, ' Mr. Caslon, the founder (whom I at 
 first employed to cast my types), calumniated my 
 plan, he censured what he did not understand, wan- 
 tonly disappointed me in the work he engaged to 
 execute, and would meanly have sacrificed me, to 
 establish the fallacious opinion he had promulgated.' 
 
 People had their little jokes about the * Logotypes/ 
 and Mr. Knight Hunt, in his 6 Fourth Estate,' writes, 
 * It was said that the orders to the type-founder ran 
 after this fashion, " Send me a hundred-weight of 
 heat, cold, wet, dry, murder, fire, dreadful robbery, 
 
 p2 
 
212 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 atrocious outrage, fearful calamity, and alarming' 
 explosion." ' That he obtained not only literary, but 
 royal recognition of his pet type, is shown by a foot- 
 note to the letter above quoted (respecting Mr. 
 Caslon), 
 
 1 Any gentleman who chuses may inspect the 
 Logographic Founts and Types, at the Printing- 
 office, or at the British Museum, to which place they 
 have been removed from the Queen's Palace/ 
 
 Where he got his money from he does not say, but 
 on the 17th of May, 1784, he advertised that 'Mr. 
 Walter begs to inform the public that he has pur- 
 chased the printing-house formerly occupied by Mr. 
 Basket near Apothecaries Hall, which will be opened 
 on the first day of next month for printing words 
 entire, under his Majesty's Patent ;' and he commenced 
 business June 1, 1784. 
 
 Printing House Square stands on the site of the 
 old Monastery of Blackfriars. After the dissolution 
 of the monasteries, in Henry the Eighth's time, it 
 passed through several hands, until it became the 
 workshop of the royal printer. Here was printed, 
 in 1666, the London Gazette, the oldest surviving paper 
 in England; and, the same year, the all-devouring 
 Great Fire completely destroyed it. Phoenix-like, it 
 arose from its ashes, more beautiful than before — for 
 the writer of 'A New View of London,' published in 
 1708, thus describes it : Printing House Lane, on 
 the E side of Blackfryars : a passage to the Queen's 
 Printing House (which is a stately building).' 
 
 'Formerly occupied by Mr. Basket,' a printer, 
 under the royal patent, of Bibles and Prayer-books. 
 To him succeeded other royal and privileged printers. 
 Eyre and Strahan, afterwards Eyre, Strahan, and 
 
< THE TIMES' AND ITS FOUNDER. 213 
 
 Spottiswoode, now Spottiswoode and Co., who, in 
 1770, left Printing House Square, and moved to New 
 Street, Fleet Street, a neighbourhood of which, now, 
 that firm have a virtual monopoly. 
 
 John Walter could not have dreamed of the palace 
 now built at Bearwood; for, like most mercantile 
 men of his day, he was quite content to * live over 
 the shop ' ; and there, in Printing House Square, 
 his son, and successor, John (who lived to build 
 Bearwood), was born, and there James Carden, 
 Esq., received his bride, John Walter's eldest daugh- 
 ter, who was the mother of the present venerable 
 alderman, Sir Robert Carden. There, too, died his 
 wife, the partner of his successes and his failures, 
 in the year 17i*8. 
 
 The first work printed at this logographic print- 
 ing establishment was a little story called, i Gabriel, 
 the Outcast.' Many other slight works followed; 
 but these were not enough to satisfy the ambitions 
 of John Walter, who, six months after he commenced 
 business, started a newspaper, the Daily Universal 
 Register, on the 1st of January, 1785. 1 Even at that 
 date there was no lack of newspapers, although our 
 grandfathers were lucky to have escaped the inflic- 
 tion of the plague of periodicals under which we 
 groan ; for there were the Morning Post, the Morning 
 Chronicle, the General Advertiser, London Gazette, 
 London Chronicle, Gazetteer, Morning Herald, St. 
 James's Chronicle, London Recorder, General Evening 
 Post, Public Advertiser, Lounger, Parkers General 
 Advertiser, &c. So we must conclude that John 
 Walter's far-seeing intelligence foretold that a good 
 
 1 The centenary of the Times was improperly celebrated in 
 that paper on the 1st of January, 1885. 
 
214 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 daily paper, ably edited, would pay. It was logo- 
 graphically printed, and was made the vehicle of 
 puffs of the proprietor's hobby. The Times was also 
 so printed for a short period, but, eventually, it proved 
 so cumbersome in practice, as absolutely to hinder 
 the compositors, instead of aiding them. 
 
 On the 1st of January, 1788, was born a baby that 
 has since grown into a mighty giant. On that day 
 was published the first number of THE Times, or Daily 
 Universal Register, for it had a dual surname, and 
 the reasons for the alteration are given in the fol- 
 lowing ' editorial.' 
 
 < The Times. 
 
 * Why change the head ? 
 
 * This question will naturally come from the Public 
 — and ive, the Times, being the Public's most humble 
 and obedient Servants, think ourselves bound to 
 answer : — 
 
 < All things have heads — and all heads are liable to 
 change. 
 
 1 Every sentence and opinion advanced by Mr. 
 Shandy on the influence and utility of a well-chosen 
 surname may be properly applied in showing the 
 recommendations and advantages which result from 
 placing a striking title-page before a book, or an 
 inviting Head on the front page of a Newspaper. 
 
 * A Head so placed, like those heads which once 
 ornamented Temple Bar, or those of the great Attor- 
 ney, or great Contractor, which, not long since, were 
 conspicuously elevated for their great actions, and 
 were exhibited, in wooden frames, at the East and 
 West Ends of this Metropolis, never fails of attract- 
 ing the eyes of passengers — though, indeed, we do 
 not expect to experience the lenity shown to these 
 
* THE TIMES' AND ITS FOUNDER. 215 
 
 great exhibitors, for probably the Times will be pelted 
 without mercy. 
 
 1 But then, a head with a good face is a harbinger, 
 a gentleman-usher, that often strongly recommends 
 even Dulness, Folly, Immorality, or Vice. The 
 immortal Locke gives evidence to the truth of this 
 observation. That great philosopher has declared 
 that, though repeatedly taken in, he never could 
 withstand the solicitations of a well-drawn title-page 
 — authority sufficient to justify us in assuming a new 
 head and a new set of features, but not with a design 
 to impose ; for we flatter ourselves the Head of the 
 Times will not be found deficient in intellect, but, 
 by putting a new face on affairs, will be admired 
 for the light of its countenance, whenever it appears. 
 
 1 To advert to our first position. 
 
 ' The Universal Register has been a name as inju- 
 rious to the Logographic Newspaper, as Tristram was 
 to Mr. Shandy's Son. But Old Shandy forgot he 
 might have rectified by confirmation the mistakes of 
 the parson at baptism — with the touch of a Bishop 
 have changed Tristram to Trismegistus. 
 
 < The Universal Register, from the day of its first 
 appearance to the day of its confirmation, has, like 
 Tristram, suffered from unusual casualties, both 
 laughable and serious, arising from its name, which, 
 on its introduction, was immediately curtailed of 
 its fair proportion by all who called for it — the word 
 Universal being Universally omitted, and the word 
 Register being only retained. 
 
 * " Boy, bring me the Register" 
 
 * The waiter answers : " Sir, we have not a library, 
 but you may see it at the New Exchange Coffee 
 House" 
 
216 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 ' " Then I'll see it there," answers the disappointed 
 politician; and he goes to the New Exchange, and 
 calls for the Register ; upon which the waiter tells 
 him he cannot have it, as he is not a subscriber, 
 and presents him with the Court and City Register, 
 the Old Annual Register, or, if the Coffee-house be 
 within the Purlieus of Covent Garden, or the hun- 
 dreds of Drury, slips into the politician's hand Barriss 
 Register of Ladies. 
 
 6 For these and other reasons the parents of the 
 Universal Register have added to its original name 
 that of the 
 
 TIMES, 
 
 Which, being a monosyllable, bids defiance to cor- 
 rupters and mutilaters of the language. 
 
 < The Times ! What a monstrous name ! Granted, 
 for THE Times is a many-headed monster, that speaks 
 with an hundred tongues, and displays a thousand 
 characters, and, in the course of its transformations in 
 life, assumes innumerable shapes and humours. 
 
 1 The critical reader will observe we personify our 
 new name ; but as Ave give it no distinction of sex, 
 and though it will be active in its vocations, yet we 
 apply to it the neuter gender. 
 
 1 The Times, being formed of materials, and possess- 
 ing qualities of opposite and heterogeneous natures, 
 cannot be classed either in the animal or vegetable 
 genus ; but, like the Polypus, is doubtful, and in the 
 discussion, description, dissection, and illustration 
 will employ the pens of the most celebrated among 
 the Literati. 
 
 ' The Heads of the Times, as has been said, are 
 many ; they will, however, not always appear at the 
 
< THE TIMES' AND ITS FOUNDER. 217 
 
 same time, but casually, as public or private affairs 
 may call them forth. 
 
 1 The principal, or leading heads are — 
 
 The Literary ; 
 Political ; 
 Commercial ; 
 Philosophical ; 
 Critical ; 
 Theatrical ; 
 Fashionable ; 
 Humorous ; 
 Witty, &c. 
 
 ' Each of which are supplied with a competent share 
 of intellects for the pursuit of their several functions ; 
 an endowment which is not in all times to be found 
 even in the Heads of the State, the heads of the 
 Church, the heads of the Law, the heads of the Navy, 
 the heads of the Army, and though last, not least, the 
 great heads of the Universities. 
 
 * The Political Head of THE Times, like that of Janus, 
 the Roman Deity, is doubly faced ; with one counte- 
 nance it will smile continually on the friends of Old 
 England, and with the other will frown incessantly 
 on her enemies. 
 
 ' The alteration we have made in our head is not 
 without precedents. The World has parted with half 
 its Caput Mortuum, and a moiety of its brains. The 
 Herald has cut off half its head, and has lost its 
 original humour. The Post, it is true, retains its 
 whole head and its old features ; and, as to the other 
 public prints, they appear as having neither heads 
 nor tails. On the Parliamentary Head every com- 
 munication that ability and industry can produce 
 
218 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 may be expected. To this great National object, THE 
 Times will be most sedulously attentive, most accur- 
 ately correct, and strictly impartial in its reports.' 
 
 The early career of the Times was not all prosper- 
 ity, and Mr. Walter was soon taught a practical lesson 
 in keeping his pen within due bounds, for, on July 
 11th, 1788, he was tried for two libellous paragraphs 
 published in the Times, reflecting on the characters 
 of the Duke of York, Gloucester, and Cumberland, 
 stating them to be * insincere ' in their profession of 
 joy at his Majesty's recovery. It might have been 
 an absolute fact, but it was impolitic to print it, and 
 so he found it, for a jury found him guilty. 
 
 He came up for judgment at the King's Bench on 
 the 23rd of November next, when he was sentenced 
 by the Court to pay a fine of fifty pounds, to be im- 
 prisoned twelve months in Newgate, to stand in the 
 pillory at Charing Cross, when his punishment should 
 have come to an end, and to find security for his 
 good behaviour. 
 
 He seems to have ridden a-tilt at all the royal 
 princes, for we next hear of him under date of 3rd of 
 February, 1790, being brought from Newgate to the 
 Court of King's Bench to receive sentence for the 
 following libels : 
 
 For charging their Royal Highnesses the Prince of 
 Wales and Duke of York with having demeaned 
 themselves so as to incur the displeasure of his 
 Majesty. This, doubtless, was strictly true, but it 
 cost the luckless Walter one hundred pounds as a 
 fine, and another twelve months' imprisonment in 
 Newgate. 
 
 This, however, was not all ; he was arraigned on 
 another indictment for asserting that His Royal High- 
 
1 THE TIMES' AND ITS FOUNDER. 219 
 
 ness the Duke of Clarence returned from his station 
 without leave of the Admiralty, or of his commanding 
 officer, and for this he was found guilty, and sentenced 
 to pay another hundred pounds. 
 
 Whether he made due submission, or had powerful 
 friends to assist him, I know not, — but it is said that 
 it was at the request of the Prince of Wales — at all 
 events, he received the king's pardon, and was re- 
 leased from confinement on 7th of March, 1791, after 
 which time he never wrote about the king's sons in a 
 way likely to bring him within the grip of the Law. 
 
 From time to time we get little avisos as to the 
 progress of the paper, for John Walter was not one 
 of those who hide their light under a bushel. Contrast 
 the printing power then with the magnificent 'Walter ' 
 machines of the present day, which, in their turn, will 
 assuredly be superseded by some greater improvement. 
 
 The Times, 7th of February, 1794. ' The Proprie- 
 tors have for some time past been engaged in making 
 alterations which they trust will be adequate to 
 remedy the inconvenience of the late delivery com- 
 plained of ; and after Monday next the Times will be 
 worked off with three Presses, and occasionally with 
 four, instead of TWO, as is done in all other Printing- 
 offices, by which mode two hours will be saved in 
 printing the Paper, which, notwithstanding the late- 
 ness of the delivery, is now upwards of Four Thou- 
 sand Three Hundred in sale, daily/ 
 
 The following statement is curious, as showing us 
 some of the interior economy of the newspaper in its 
 early days. From the Times, April 19, 1794 : 
 
 ' To the Public. 
 < It is with very great regret that the Proprietors 
 
220 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 of this Paper, in Common with, those of other News- 
 papers, find themselves obliged to increase the daily- 
 price of it One Halfpenny, a measure which they 
 have been forced to adopt in consequence of the Tax 
 laid by the Minister on Paper, during the present 
 Session of Parliament, and which took place on the 
 5th instant. 
 
 ' While the Bill was still pending, we not only 
 stated in our Newspaper, but the Minister was him- 
 self informed by a Committee of Proprietors, that the 
 new Duty would be so extremely oppressive as to 
 amount to a necessity of raising the price, which it 
 was not only their earnest Wish, but also their Interest, 
 to avoid. The Bill, however, passed, after a long 
 consideration and delay occasioned by the great 
 doubts that were entertained of its efficacy. We 
 wish a still longer time had been taken to consider 
 it ; for we entertain the same opinion as formerly, that 
 the late Duty on Paper will not be productive to the 
 Revenue, while it is extremely injurious to a par- 
 ticular class of Individuals, whose property was very 
 heavily taxed before. 
 
 'In fact, it amounts either to a Prohibition of 
 printing a Newspaper at the present price, or obliges 
 the Proprietors to advance it. There is no option 
 left ; the price of Paper is now so high that the Pro- 
 prietors have no longer an interest to render their 
 sale extensive, as far as regards the profits of a large 
 circulation. The more they sell at the present price, 
 the more they will lose ; to us alone the Advance on 
 Paper will make a difference of £1,200 sterling per 
 Annum more than it formerly cost us — a sum which 
 the Public must be convinced neither can, nor ought 
 to be afforded by any Property of the limited nature 
 
■ THE TIMES 1 AND ITS FOUNDER. 221 
 
 of a Newspaper, the profits on the sale of which are 
 precisely as follows : 
 
 1 Sale. 
 2,000 Newspapers sold to the Newshawkers at did., with a 
 
 further deduction of allowing them a Paper in every Quire 
 
 of 24 £26 18 C. 
 
 'Cost of 2,000 Papers. 
 A Bundle of Paper containing 2,000 Half -sheets, or 2,000 News- 
 papers at Four Guineas per Bundle, which is the price it will 
 be sold at under the new Duty is £4 4 0. 
 
 £4 4 £26 18 6 
 2,000 Stamps at 2d., deducting discount 16 20 4 
 
 Profits £6 14 6 
 
 1 This is the whole Profit on the sale of two thou- 
 sand Newspapers, out of which is to be deducted the 
 charges of printing a Newspaper (which, on account 
 of the Rise in Printers' Wages last year, is £100 a year 
 more than it ever was before), the charges of Rent, 
 Taxes, Coals, Candles (which are very high in every 
 Printing-office), Clerks, general Superintendance, Edit- 
 ing, Parliamentary and Law Reports, and, above all, the 
 Expenses of Foreign Correspondence, which, under 
 the present difficulties of obtaining it, and the differ- 
 ent Channels which must be employed to secure a 
 regular and uninterrupted Communication, is immense. 
 If this Paper is in high estimation, surely the Pro- 
 prietors ought to receive the advantage of their 
 success, and not the Revenue, which already monopo- 
 lises such an immense income from this property, no 
 less than to the amount of £14,000 sterling during last 
 year only. We trust that these reasons will have 
 sufficient weight with the Public to excuse us when 
 we announce, though with very great regret, that on 
 
222 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Monday next the price of this Paper will be Fourpence 
 Halfpenny' 
 
 Occasionally, the proprietor fell foul of his neigh- 
 bours ; vide the Times, November 16, 1795 : 
 
 ' All the abuse so lavishly bestowed on this Paper 
 by other Public Prints, seems as if designed to betray, 
 that in proportion as our sale is good, it is had Times 
 with them.' 
 
 In the early part of 1797, Pitt proposed, among 
 other methods of augmenting the revenue, an addi- 
 tional stamp of three halfpence on every newspaper. 
 The Times, April 28, 1797, groaned over it thus: 
 
 * The present daily sale of the Times is known to 
 be between four and five thousand Newspapers. For 
 the sake of perspicuity, we will make our calculation 
 on four thousand only, and it will hold good in pro- 
 portion to every other Paper. 
 
 1 The Newsvendors are now allowed by the Pro- 
 prietors of every Newspaper two sheets in every 
 quire, viz., twenty-six for every twenty-four Papers 
 sold. The stamp duty on two Papers in every quire 
 in four thousand Papers daily at the old Duty of 
 2d., amounts to £780 a year, besides the value of 
 the Paper. An additional Duty of l^d. will occa- 
 sion a further loss of £585 in this one instance 
 only, for which there is not, according to Mr. 
 Pitt's view of the subject, to be the smallest re- 
 muneration to the Proprietors. Is it possible that 
 anything can be so unjust ? If the Minister persists 
 in his proposed plan, it will be impossible for News- 
 papers to be sold at a lower rate than sixpence 
 halfpenny per Paper.' 
 
 Pitt, of course, carried out his financial plan, and 
 the newspapers had to grin, and bear it as best they 
 
< THE TIMES' AND ITS FOUNDER. 223 
 
 could — the weaker going to the wall, as may be seen 
 by the following notices which appeared in the Times, 
 July 5 : 
 
 ' To the Public. 
 
 1 We think it proper to remind our Readers and the 
 Public at large that, in consequence of the heavy 
 additional Duty of Three Half-pence imposed on every 
 Newspaper, by a late Act of Parliament, which begins 
 to have effect from and after this day, the Proprietors 
 are placed in the very unpleasant position of being 
 compelled to raise the price of their Newspapers to 
 the amount of the said Duty. To the Proprietors of 
 this Paper it will prove a very considerable diminution 
 of the fair profits of the Trade ; they will not, how- 
 ever, withdraw in the smallest degree any part of the 
 Expenses which they employ in rendering the Times 
 an Intelligent and Entertaining source of Information : 
 and they trust with confidence that the Public will 
 bestow on it the same liberal and kind Patronage 
 which they have shown for many years past ; and for 
 which the Proprietors have to offer sentiments of sin- 
 cere gratitude. From this day, the price of every 
 Newspaper will be Sixpence.' 
 
 July 19, 1797. < Some of the Country Newspapers 
 have actually given up the Trade, rather than stand 
 the risk of the late enormous heavy Duty : many 
 others have advertised them for Sale : some of those 
 printed in Town must soon do the like, for the fair 
 profits of Trade have been so curtailed, that no Paper 
 can stand the loss without having a very large pro- 
 portion of Advertisements. We have very little 
 doubt but that, so far from Mr. Pitt's calculation of a 
 profit of £114,000 sterling by the New Tax on 
 
224 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Newspapers, the Duty, the same as on Wine, will 
 fall very short of the original Revenue/ 
 
 July 13, 1797. 'As a proof of the] diminution in 
 the general sale of Newspapers since the last im- 
 politic Tax laid on them, we have to observe, as one 
 instance, that the number of Newspapers sent 
 through the General Post Office on Monday the 3rd 
 instant, was 24,700, and on Monday last, only 16,800, 
 a falling off of nearly one-third. 9 
 
 Once again we find John Walter falling foul 
 of a contemporary — and indulging in editorial 
 amenities. 
 
 July 2, 1798. s The Morning Herald has, no doubt, 
 acted from very prudent motives in declining to state 
 any circumstances respecting its sale. All that we 
 hope and expect, in future, is — that it will not at- 
 tempt to injure this Paper by insinuating that it was 
 in a declining state ; an assertion which it knows to 
 be false, and which will be taken notice of in a dif- 
 ferent way if repeated. The Morning Herald is at 
 liberty to make any other comments it pleases.' 
 
 Have the Daily Telegraph and the Standard copied 
 from John Walter, when they give public notice that 
 their circulation is so-and-so, as is vouched for by a 
 respectable accountant % It would seem so, for this 
 notice appeared in the Times : 
 
 ' We have subjoined an Affidavit sworn yesterday 
 before a Magistrate of the City, as to the present sale 
 of the Times. 
 
 ' " We, C. Bentley and G. Burroughs, Pressmen of 
 the Times, do make Oath, and declare, That the num- 
 ber printed of the Times Paper for the last two 
 months, has never been, on any one day, below 3 
 
■ THE TIMES' AND ITS FOUNDER. 225 
 
 thousand, and has fluctuated from that number to 
 three thousand three hundred and fifty." 
 
 ' And, in order to avoid every subterfuge, I more- 
 over attest, That the above Papers of the Times 
 were paid for to me, previous to their being taken by 
 the Newsmen from the Office, with the exception of 
 about a dozen Papers each morning which are spoiled 
 in Printing. 
 
 ' J. Bonsor, Publisher. 
 
 * Sworn before me December 31, 1798. 
 
 ' W. Curtis.' 
 
 From this time the career of the Times seems to 
 have been prosperous, for we read, January 1, 1799, 
 
 'The New Year. 
 
 ' The New Year finds the Times in the same situa- 
 tion which it has invariably enjoyed during a long 
 period of public approbation. It still continues to 
 maintain its character among the Morning Papers, 
 as the most considerable in point of sale, as of 
 general dependence with respect to information, and 
 as proceeding on the general principles of the British 
 Constitution. While we thus proudly declare our 
 possession of the public favour, we beg leave to ex- 
 press our grateful sense of the unexampled patronage 
 we have derived from it.' 
 
 Mr. John Walter was never conspicuous for his 
 modesty, and its absence is fully shown in the pre- 
 ceding and succeeding examples (January 1, 1800) : 
 
 'It is always with satisfaction that we avail our- 
 selves of the return of the present Season to acknow- 
 ledge our sense of the obligation we lay under to the 
 Public, for the very liberal Patronage with which 
 they have honoured the Times, during many years ; a 
 
 Q 
 
226 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 constancy of favour, which, we believe, has never 
 before distinguished any Newspaper, and for which 
 the Proprietors cannot sufficiently express their most 
 grateful thanks. 
 
 ' This Favour is too valuable and too honourable 
 to excite no envy in contemporary Prints, whose 
 frequent habit it is to express it by the grossest 
 calumnies and abuse. The Public, we believe, has 
 done them ample justice, and applauded the con- 
 tempt with which it is our practice to receive them.' 
 
 As this self-gratulatory notice brings us down to 
 the last year of the eighteenth century, I close this 
 notice of ' The Times and its Founder.' John 
 Walter died at Teddington, Middlesex, on the 26th of 
 January, 1812. 
 
227 
 
 IMPRISONMENT FOR DEBT. 
 
 MPRISONMENT for debt has long ceased 
 to exist in England ; debtors now only 
 suffering incarceration for contempt of 
 Court : that is to say, that the judge has 
 satisfied himself that the debtor has the 
 means to pay, and will not. But, in the eighteenth 
 century, it was a fearful fact, and many languished in 
 prison for life, for most trifling sums. Of course, there 
 were debtors and debtors. If a man had money or 
 friends, much might be done to mitigate his position ; 
 he might even live outside the prison, in the Rules, as 
 they were called, a limited district surrounding the 
 prison ; but for this advantage he must find substan- 
 tial bail — enough to cover his debt and fees. But 
 the friendless poor debtor had a very hard lot, sub- 
 sisting on charity, going, in turn, to beg of passers-by 
 for a coin, however small, rattling a box to call atten- 
 tion, and dolorously repeating, * Remember the poor 
 prisoners.' 
 
 There were many debtors' prisons, and one of the 
 principal, the Fleet, was over-crowded ; in fact, they 
 all were full. Newgate, the Marshalsea, the Gate 
 House, Westminster, the Queen's Bench, the Fleet, 
 Ludgate, Whitecross Street, Whitechapel, and a 
 
 Q2 
 
228 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 peculiar one belonging to St. Katharine's (where are 
 now the docks). 
 
 Arrest for debt was very prompt ; a writ was taken 
 out, and no poor debtor dare stir out without walking 
 1 beard on shoulder,' dreading a bailiff in every passer- 
 by. The profession of bailiff was not an honoured 
 one, and, probably, the best men did not enter it ; but 
 they had to be men of keen wit and ready resource, 
 for they had equally keen wits, sharpened by the 
 dread of capture, pitted against them. Some rose to 
 eminence in their profession, and as, occasionally, 
 there is a humorous side even to misery, I will tell a 
 few stories of their exploits. As I am not inventing 
 them, and am too honest to pass off another man's 
 work as my own, I prefer telling the stories in the 
 quaint language in which I find them. 
 
 1 A bram Wood had a Writ against an Engraver, who 
 kept a House opposite to Long A ere in Drury Lane, 
 and having been several times to serve it, but could 
 never light on the Man, because he work'd at his 
 business above Stairs, as not daring to shew his Head 
 for fear of being arrested, for he owed a great deal of 
 Money, Mr. Bum was in a Resolution of spending 
 no more Time over him ; till, shortly after, hearing 
 that one Tom Sharp, a House-breaker, was to be 
 hang'd at the end of Long Acre, for murdering a 
 Watchman, he and his Follower dress'd themselves 
 like Carpenters, having Leather Aprons on, and 
 Rules tuck'd in at the Apron Strings: then going 
 early the morning or two before the Malefactor was 
 to be executed, to the place appointed for Execution, 
 they there began to pull out their Rules, and were 
 very busie in marking out the Ground where they 
 thought best for erecting the Gibbet. This drew 
 
IMPRISONMENT FOR DEBT. 229 
 
 several of the Housekeepers about 'em presently, and 
 among the rest the Engraver, who, out of a selfish 
 humour of thinking he might make somewhat the 
 more by People standing in his House to see the 
 Execution, in Case this Gibbet was near it, gave 
 Abram a Crown, saying, 
 
 " ' Til give you a Crown more if you 7 11 put the Gibbet 
 hereabouts ;" at the same time pointing where he 
 would have it. 
 
 ' Quoth Abram : " We must put it fronting exactly 
 up Long Acre ; besides, could I put it nearer your door, 
 I should require more Money than you propose, even as 
 much as this " (at the same time pulling it out of his 
 pocket) " Writ requires, which is twenty-five Pounds.' 7 
 So, taking his prisoner away, who could not give in 
 Bail to the Action, he was carried to Jayl, without 
 seeing Tom Sharp executed/ 
 
 6 William Browne had an Action given him against 
 one Mark Blowen, a Butcher, who, being much in 
 debt, was never at his Stall, except on Saturdays, and 
 then not properly neither, for the opposite side of the 
 way to his Shop being in the Duchy Liberty 1 (with 
 the Bailiff whereof he kept in Fee) a Bailiff of the 
 Marshal's Court could not arrest him. From hence he 
 could call to his Wife and Customers as there was 
 occasion ; and there could Browne once a week see 
 his Prey, but durst not meddle with him. Many a 
 Saturday his Mouth watered at him ; but one Satur- 
 day above the rest, Browne, stooping for a Purse, as 
 if he found it, just by his Stall, and pulling five or six 
 guineas out of it, the Butcher's Wife cry'd " Halves ;" 
 
 1 i.e., in the liberty or Rules of the Fleet. 
 
230 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 his Follower, who was at some little distance behind 
 him, cry'd out, " Halves " too. 
 
 4 Browne refused Halves to either, whereupon they 
 both took hold of him, the Woman swearing it was 
 found by her Stall, therefore she would have half; 
 and the Follower saying, As he saw it as soon t'other, 
 he would have a Share of it too, or he would acquaint 
 the Lord of the Mannor with it. Mark Blowen, in the 
 meantime, seeing his Wife and another pulling and 
 haling the Man about, whom he did not suspect to 
 be a Bailiff, asked, " What's the Matter f ' His wife 
 telling him the Man had found a Purse with Gold in 
 it by her Stall, and therefore she thought it nothing 
 but Justice but she ought to have some of it. 
 
 444 Ay ay? (quoth the Butcher), "and nothing but 
 Reason, Wife." 
 
 4 So, coming from hisprivileged side of the Way, he 
 takes hold of Browne too, bidding his Wife look after 
 the Shop, for he would take care of him before they 
 parted. 
 
 1 Bmwne, being thus hemm'd in by his Follower 
 and the Butcher, quoth he : 
 
 4 " Lootiee here, Gentlemen, I have Six Guineas here, 
 'tis true, but, if I should give you one half of it, why, 
 then there is but a quarter Share of the other two? 
 
 \ " No, no? (replyed they), ' well have Man and Man 
 alike, which is Two Guineas apiece? 
 
 ' " Well? (quoth Browne), " if it must be so, Tm con- 
 tented; but, then, Til tell you what, Til have the odd 
 Eighteen Pence spent? 
 
 4 " With all my heart? said Blowen. " Well never 
 make a dry Bargain otit? 
 
 4 They are all agreed, and Browne leads them up 
 to the Blackmore's Head Alehouse, in Exeter Street, 
 
IMPRISONMENT FOR DEBT. 231 
 
 where a couple of Fowls are ordered to be laid 
 down, and Stout and Ale is called for by whole- 
 sale. At last they went to Dinner, and, afterwards, 
 Browne, changing his Six Guineas for Silver, gave 
 his Follower (to carry on the jest) Forty Shillings, 
 and put the rest in his pocket. Mark Blowen, seeing 
 that, began to look surly, and asked for his Share. 
 
 1 Said Browne : " What Share, friend?" 
 
 i Quoth Mark Blowen : " Forty Shillings, as you gave 
 this Man here." 
 
 6 Browne reply'd : " Why, truly, Sir, I shall have an 
 urgent Occasion to Night for what Sum I have about me, 
 and if you 11 be pleas 'd to lend me your Share but till 
 Monday Morning, Til come and pay you then at this 
 House without fail, and return you, ivith infinite thanks, 
 for the Favour." 
 
 1 Quoth Mark (who was a blundering, rustical sort 
 of a Fellow) : " D me, Sir, dont think to Tongue- 
 Fad me out of my Due. Til have my Share now, or 
 else he that's the best Man here of us three shall have it 
 all, win it, and ivear it" 
 
 ' " Pray, Sir," (said Browne), " dont be in this Passion. 
 Til leave you a sufficient Pledge for it till Monday." 
 
 1 Quoth Mark ; " Let's see it" 
 
 ' Hereupon Browne pulls out his Tip-Staff, and lays 
 it on the Table ; but the Butcher, not liking the 
 Complexion of it, began to be moving, when the 
 Follower, laying Hands on him, they arrested him in 
 an Action of Eighteen Pounds, and carried him to the 
 Marshalsea, where, after a Confinement of Nine Months, 
 he ended his Days.' 
 
 There is another famous bailiff on record, named 
 Jacob Broad ; and of him it is narrated that, ' being 
 employed to arrest a Justice of the Peace living near 
 
232 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Uxbridge, he went down there very often, and had 
 us'd several Stratagems to take him, but, his Worship 
 being very cautious in conversing with any of Jacob's 
 Fraternity, his Contrivances to nap him prov'd always 
 abortive. However, a great deal of Money was prof- 
 fer' d by the Creditor to take the worshipful Debtor; 
 so one Day Jacob, with a couple of his Followers, 
 took a Journey in the Country, and, being near the 
 end of their Journey, Jacob alights, and flings his 
 Bridle, Saddle, and Boots into a Thick Hedge, and 
 then puts a Fetlock 1 on his Horse. The Followers 
 tramp'd it a-foot, to one of whom giving the Horse, 
 he leads it to a Smith at Uxbridge, and, telling him 
 he had lost the Key of the Fetlock, he desir'd him 
 to unlock it, whilst he went to a neighbouring Ale- 
 house, where he would give him a Pot or two of 
 Drink for his Pains. Accordingly the Smith unlockt 
 it, and carried the Horse to the Alehouse ; and, after 
 he had drank Part of half-a-dozen of Drink, return'd 
 to his Work again. Shortly after, came the other 
 Follower to the Smith, inquiring if he did not see 
 such a Horse come by that way, describing at the 
 same time the Colour and Marks of it, and how his 
 Master had lost him out of his Grounds that Morning. 
 The Smith reply' d, that such a Horse was brought 
 to him but a little before, to have a Fetlock taken 
 off, and that he did imagine the Fellow to be a 
 Rogue that had him ; but, however, he believ'd he 
 was still at such an Alehouse hard by, and might 
 be there apprehended. Hereupon the Smith and 
 Follower went to the Alehouse, where they found 
 the Horse standing at the Door, and the other Fol- 
 lower in the House, whom they calFd a thousand 
 1 A foot-lock or hobble. 
 
IMPRISONMENT FOR DEBT. 233 
 
 Rogues, and charg'd with a Constable for a Thief. 
 In the meantime, came Jacob Broad, who own'd the 
 Horse to be his, and the Town-People, being all in 
 a hurly-burly, they carried him before the Justice 
 whom Jacob wanted ; but no sooner were Jacob, the 
 supposed Thief, and the other Follower entered the 
 House, but charging the Constable to keep the Peace, 
 they arrested his Worship, and brought him forth- 
 with to London, where he was forc'd to pay the 
 Debt of two hundred and thirty-four Pounds before 
 he could reach home again/ 
 
 Another story is related of Jacob Broad. 
 
 1 A certain Gentleman who liv'd at Hackney, and 
 had been a Collector of the late Queen's Duties, but 
 cheated her of several thousands of Pounds, goes 
 home, and pretends himself sick. Upon this he 
 keeps his Bed, and, after a Fortnight's pretended 
 Illness, it was given out that he was Dead. Great 
 preparations were then made for his Funeral. His 
 Coffin, which was filled with Bricks and Saw-Dust, 
 was covered with black Velvet, and his Wife, and 
 Six Sons and Daughters, all in deep Mourning, fol- 
 low'd it to the Grave, which was made in St. Johns 
 Church, at Hackney. This sham Funeral was so well 
 carried on, that all the People of the Town would 
 have sworn the Collector was really Dead. About 
 a Week after his supposed Interment, Jacob Broad 
 had an Action of one hundred and fifty Pounds 
 against him. He went to . Hackney to serve the 
 Writ, but, enquiring after the Person he was to arrest, 
 and being told that he was dead and buried, he 
 return'd home again. 
 
 * About Seven Years afterwards, the Creditor being 
 certainly inform'd that the Collector was alive and 
 
234 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 well in his own House, he employed Jacob again 
 to arrest him, and accordingly he and another went 
 to execute the Writ. Jacob planted himself in an 
 Alehouse adjacent to the long-supposed Deceased's 
 Habitation, and, while his Aid-de-Camp, or Follower, 
 was doing something else, he told a Woman, coming 
 by with a great Load of Turnips on her Head, that 
 the People of such a House wanted some, which was 
 the House where the Seven Years dead Man dwelt. 
 She went forthwith and knockt at the Door, which 
 was open'd to let her in, and the Follower, who was 
 close at her Heels, rush'd in after her, and ran into a 
 Back Parlour, where he saw the Person (according to 
 the Description of him) whom he wanted sitting by 
 the Fire Side. It happening then to be a festival 
 Day, for the Entertainment of the Collector's Children, 
 and Grand Children, the Table was spread with 
 Variety of Dainties ; the Follower leapt over the 
 Table, overthrowing the Viands on it, and laying 
 hold of the Prisoner, all their Mirth was spoilt at 
 once. In the mean Time came Jacob Broad, and, 
 taking out the supposed dead Man, he seem'd to be 
 overjoy'd at his Resurrection from a Seven Years' 
 Confinement and for tasting the fresh Air. Jacob 
 brings him to London, whence he remov'd himself by 
 a Writ of Habeas Corpus to the King's Bench Prison 
 in Sonthivark, where he died again in a Week's time, 
 for he was never heard of till he was seen about 
 Three Years after in Denmark. 
 
 ' Jacob Broad was always very happy in having 
 Followers as acute as himself in any sort of Roguery, 
 especially one Andrew Vanghan, afterwards a Bailiff 
 himself on Saffron Hill, and one Volly Vance, other- 
 wise call'd Glym Jack from his having been a Moon 
 
IMPRISONMENT FOR DEBT. 235 
 
 Curser, 1 or Link Boy . . . From a Link Boy Glym 
 Jack came to be Jacob Broad's Follower, who, 
 together with Andrew Vaughan, he once took into 
 the Country along with him to arrest a Justice of 
 Peace, who was one of the shyest cocks that ever 
 Jacob had to take by Stratagem. In order to accom- 
 plish this Undertaking, Jacob, Andrew, and Glym 
 Jack were very well drest in Apparel, and mounted 
 on good Geldings, having fine Hangers on their 
 Sides, and Pistols in their Holsters, beside Pocket 
 Pops sticking in their Bosoms. Being thus accoutred 
 they rid into an Inn in the Town where the Justice 
 of Peace they wanted dwelt, and, putting up their 
 Horses, they ask'd the Landlord for a private Room, 
 which, being accommodated with, they refresh'd 
 themselves with a good Dinner, and afterwards set 
 to play. 
 
 * Whilst they were shaking their Elbows at 7 or 
 11 nick it, a great deal of Money and three or four 
 Watches lying on the Table, when at last one of 'em 
 cry'd, this Watch is my Snack, for I'm sure I first 
 attackt the Gentleman from whom we took it ; an- 
 other swore such a Purse of Gold was his, which 
 they had taken that Morning from a Gentlewoman, 
 and, in short, everyone of 'em was swearing such a 
 Prize was his, all which the Landlord (who listened 
 at the Door) overhearing, thought to himself they 
 were all Highwaymen. Hereupon he goes and 
 acquaints the shy Justice of Peace with the matter, 
 who ask'd If he were sure they were Rogues. 
 
 * "Nothing" (quoth the Innkeeper), " is more certain, 
 for they are all armd with more Pistols than ordinary^ 
 
 1 From the link-boy's natural hatred of ' the Parish Lantern,' 
 which would deprive him of his livelihood. 
 
236 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 swearing, damning, cursing, and sinking every Word they 
 speak, and falling out about dividing their Booty." 
 
 * " Ay, ay," (reply'd the Justice), " they are then cer- 
 tainly Highwaymen" and so order'd him to secure 
 them. 
 
 ' The Innholder went for a Constable, who, with a 
 great many Rusticks, arm'd with Pitch Forks, long 
 Poles, and other Country Weapons, went with the 
 Landlord to the Inn, suddenly rush'd into the Room, 
 and surpriz'd Jacob and his Followers, with Money 
 and Watches lying before them. 
 
 ' " So," (says the Constable), "pretty Gentlemen, are 
 not ye, that honest people cant travel the Country without 
 being robb'd by such villains as you are ? — Well" (quoth 
 the Constable to Jacob), " what's your Name ?" 
 
 ' His answer was Sice- Ace} 
 
 * a A fine Rogue, indeed /" said the Constable, at the 
 same time asking Andrew his Name, whose answer 
 was, 
 
 ' " Cinque-Duce" 
 
 * " Another Rogue in Grain /" quoth the Constable ; 
 and then ask'd Glym Jack what his Name was, who 
 reply'd, 
 
 <" Quater-Tray" 
 
 4 " Rogues ! Rogues all !" said the Constable ; " ay, 
 worse than all, they are mear Infidels, Heathens, for I 
 never heard such names before in a Christian Country. 
 Come, Neighbours, bring 'em away before Mr. Justice, 
 his Worship will soon make them change their Notes" 
 
 6 Accordingly the Rusticks haled them along the 
 Town to his Worship's House, into which they were 
 no sooner enter'd but he began to revile Jacob and 
 
 l In throwing dice a corruption of the French numerals is 
 used, as ace (one), deuce (two), tray (three), &c. 
 
IMPRISONMENT FOR DEBT. 237 
 
 his Brethren for Highwaymen, and asking them their 
 Names, they still were in the same Tone of Sice-Ace, 
 Cinque-Duce, and Quater-Tray, at which the Justice, 
 lifting up his Hands and Eyes to the Ceiling, cry'd 
 out, Such audacious Rogues as these were never seen 
 before. 
 
 '"Here, Tom" (quoth his Worship to his Clerk), 
 " write their Mittimus, for 1 will send them everyone to 
 Newgate." 
 
 ' Whilst their Commitment was writing, Jacob pulls 
 a Bit of Parchment out of his Pocket, and, asking the 
 Constable if he could read it, he put on his Spectacles, 
 and posing and mumbling over it a Minute or two, 
 said, 
 
 ' " I cannot tell what to malce of it It is Latin, I 
 think." 
 
 * " Well, then" (quoth Jacob), " Til tell you what it 
 is, it is the King's Process against this Gentleman that is 
 going to commit us to Newgate ; therefore, in my Execu- 
 tion of it, I require you, as you are a Constable, to keep 
 the Peace." 
 
 ' This turn of the Dice made the Magistrate, the 
 Peace Officer, and all the Rusticks stare at one an- 
 other as if they were out of their Senses. However, 
 Jacob brought his Prisoner to London, and oblig'd 
 him to make Satisfaction before he got out of his- 
 Clutches.' 
 
 The above anecdotes illustrate the humorous side 
 of a bailiff's life, but sometimes they met with very 
 rough treatment, nay, were even killed. On the 4th 
 of August, 1722, a bailiff named Boyce was killed 
 by a blacksmith, who ran a red-hot iron into him ; 
 and the book I have quoted from thus speaks of 
 bailiffs as • such Villains, whose Clan is suppos'd to 
 
238 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 descend from the cursed Seed of Ham, and there- 
 fore stinks in the Nostrils of all honest Men. Some 
 of them have been paid in their own Coyn, for 
 Captain Bew kill'd a Sergeant of one of the Comp- 
 ters. Shortly after, a Bailiff was kill'd in Grays- 
 Inn Walks; another Bailiff had his Hand chopt off 
 by a Butcher in Hungerford Market, in the Strand, 
 of which Wound he dyed the next Day, and another 
 Man kill'd two Bailiffs at once with a couple of 
 Pistols in Houghton Street, by Clare Market, for 
 which he was touch'd with a cold iron 1 at the 
 Sessions House at the Old Baily, besides several 
 others of that detestable Tribe have deservedly 
 
 suffer' d the same fate 
 
 'But, by the way, we must take Notice that a 
 Bailiff is Universally hated by Man, Woman, or Child, 
 who dearly love to see them duckt (Pick-pocket like) 
 in the Muse Pond, 2 or the cleanly Pond of the Horse 
 Guards, at Whitehall, and sometimes well rinsed at 
 the Temple, or Grays-Inn Pump ; and if any of these 
 napping Scoundrels is taken within the Liberty of 
 the Mint, the enraged Inhabitants of this Place tye 
 him fast with Ropes in a Wheelbarrow ; then they 
 trundle him about the Streets, with great Shouts and 
 
 Huzzas After he is convey'd in the like 
 
 Order to a stinking Ditch, near St. George's Fields, 
 where he is plunged over Head and Ears, a la mode 
 de Pickpocket ; and then, to finish the Procession, 
 he is solemnly convey'd to a Pump, according to the 
 
 1 I.e., That sentence of death, owing to his pleading benefit of 
 clergy, or ability to read, was commuted to imprisonment, and 
 branding on the face with a red-hot iron. By degrees, however, 
 the iron got colder, until, at last, it was barely warm. 
 2 Mews, or horse-pond. 
 
IMPRISONMENT FOR DEBT. 239 
 
 antient Custom of the Place, where he is sufficiently 
 clrench'd for all his dirty Doings/ 
 
 This, as I have said, shows the humorous side of 
 imprisonment for debt. An unimpeachable and ver- 
 acious authority, one who only gave dry statistics, 
 and did not draw upon his imagination for his facts, 
 was John Howard, the philanthropist, who published, 
 in 1777, 'The State of the Prisons in England and 
 Wales/ From his report we learn that the allowance 
 to debtors was a penny loaf a day — and when we con- 
 sider that, during the French war, bread at one time 
 rose to a price equivalent to our half-crown per 
 quartern loaf, it could hardly be called a sufficient 
 diet. But the City of London, generous then, as 
 ever, supplemented this with a daily (f weekly) 
 supply of sixteen stone, or one hundred and twenty- 
 eight pounds, of beef, which, as Howard gives the 
 average of debtors in two years (1775-6) at thirty- 
 eight, would be more than ample for their needs — 
 and there were other charities amounting to fifty or 
 sixty pounds a year — but, before they were dis- 
 charged, they were compelled to pay the keeper a 
 fee of eight shillings and tenpence. 
 
 In the Fleet Prison they had no allowance, but, if 
 they made an affidavit that they were not worth five 
 pounds, and could not subsist without charity, they 
 had divided amongst them the proceeds of the beg- 
 ging-box and grate, and the donations which were 
 sent to the prison. Of these, Howard says, at the 
 time of his visit, there were seventeen. But the 
 other prisoners who had any money had every facility 
 afforded them to spend it. There was a tap, at which 
 they could purchase whatever liquor they required ; 
 there was a billiard-table, and, in the yard, they could 
 
240 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 play at skittles, Mississipi, fives, tennis, &c. On Mon- 
 day nights there was a wine club, and on Thursday 
 nights a beer club, both of which usually lasted until 
 one or two in the morning ; and pretty scenes of 
 riot and drunkenness took place. The prisoners were 
 allowed to have their wives and children to live with 
 them. 
 
 Ludgate had ceased to exist, and the debtors were 
 transferred to New Ludgate, in Bishopsgate Street. 
 It was a comparatively aristocratic debtors' prison, 
 for it was only for debtors who were free of the City, 
 for clergymen, proctors, and attorneys. Here, again, 
 the generosity of the City stepped in ; and, for an 
 average number of prisoners of twenty-five, ten stone, 
 or eighty pounds of beef, were given weekly, together 
 with a daily penny loaf for each prisoner. The lord 
 mayor and sheriffs sent them coals, and Messrs. Cal- 
 vert, the brewers, sent weekly two barrels of small 
 beer, besides which, there were some bequests. 
 
 The Poultry Compter was in the hands of a keeper 
 who had bought the place for life, and was so crowded 
 that some of the prisoners had to sleep on shelves 
 over the others, and neither straw nor bedding was 
 allowed them. The City gave a penny loaf daily to 
 the prisoners, and remitted for their benefit the rent 
 of thirty pounds annually; the Calverts also sent them 
 beer. At Howard's visits, eight men had their wives 
 and children with them. 
 
 Wood Street Compter was not a pleasant abode, 
 for Howard says the place swarmed with bugs. 
 There were thirty-nine debtors, and their allowance 
 was a daily penny loaf from the City, two barrels of 
 beer weekly from the Calverts ; the sheriffs gave them 
 thirty-two pounds of beef on Saturdays, and for some 
 
IMPRISONMENT FOR DEBT. 241 
 
 years a benevolent baker sent them, weekly, a large 
 leg and shin of beef. 
 
 At Whitechapel was a prison for debtors, in the 
 liberty and manor of Stepney and Hackney, but it 
 was only for very small debtors, those owing above 
 two pounds, and under five. Howard's story of this 
 prison is a very sad one, the occupants being so very 
 poor: 
 
 1 The Master's-side Prisoners have four sizeable 
 chambers fronting the road — i.e., two on each storey. 
 They pay two shillings and sixpence a week, and lie 
 two in a bed ; two beds in a room. The Common- 
 side Debtors are in two long rooms in the Court 
 Yard, near the Tap-room. Men in one room, women 
 in the other : the Court Yard in common. They hang 
 out a begging-box from a little closet in the front 
 of the House, and attend it in turn. It brings them 
 only a few pence a day, and of this pittance none 
 partake but those who, at entrance, have paid the 
 keeper two shillings and sixpence, and treated the 
 Prisoners with half a gallon of beer. The last time 
 I was there, no more than three had purchased this 
 privilege . . . 
 
 1 At my first visit there were, on the Common-side, 
 two Prisoners in Hammocks, sick and very poor. 
 No chaplain. A compassionate Man, who is not a 
 regular Clergyman, sometimes preaches to them on 
 Sunday, and gives them some small relief. Lady 
 Townsend sends a Guinea twice a year, which her 
 Servant distributes equally among the Prisoners. 
 
 1 As Debtors here are generally very poor, I was 
 surprised to see, once, ten or twelve noisy men at 
 skittles ; but the Turnkey said they were only visi- 
 tants. I found they were admitted here as at ano- 
 
 R 
 
242 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS, 
 
 ther public-house. No Prisoners were at play with 
 them.' 
 
 At St. Catharine's, without the Tower, was another 
 small debtors' prison. This parish was a 'peculiar,' 
 the Bishop of London having no jurisdiction over it, 
 and the place was under the especial patronage of 
 the Queens of England ever since the time of Matilda, 
 the wife of Stephen, who founded a hospital there, 
 now removed to Regent's Park. It was a wonderful 
 little parish, for there people could take sanctuary — 
 and there also were tried civil and ecclesiastical 
 cases. Howard says that the prison for debtors had 
 been rebuilt seven years before he wrote. It was a 
 small house of two storeys ; two rooms on a floor. 
 In April, 1774, there was a keeper, but no prisoners. 
 * I have since called two or three times, and always 
 found the House uninhabited.' 
 
 No notice of debtors' prisons would be complete 
 without mention of the King's Bench, which was in 
 Southwark. Howard reports : 
 
 ' The Prisoners are numerous. At more than one 
 of my visits, some had the Small Pox. It was so 
 crowded this last summer, that a Prisoner paid five 
 shillings a week for half a bed, and many lay in the 
 chapel. In May, 1766, the number of Prisoners 
 within the Walls was three hundred and ninety-five, 
 and, by an accurate list which I procured, their wives 
 (including a few only called so) were two hundred 
 and seventy-nine, children seven hundred and twenty- 
 five — total, one thousand and four ; about two-thirds 
 of these were in the Prison.' 
 
 The prisoners had, as in the Fleet, their weekly 
 wine and beer clubs, and they also indulged in 
 similar outdoor sports. The Marshalsea and Horse- 
 
IMPRISONMENT FOR DEBT, 243 
 
 monger Lane gaol complete the list of London 
 debtors' prisons. 
 
 Howard's description of the county prisons is some- 
 thing appalling. Gaol-fever, distemper, or small-pox 
 being recorded against most of them. At Chelms- 
 ford there had been no divine service for above a 
 year past, except to condemned criminals. At 
 Warwick the debtors' common day-room was the 
 hall, which was also used as a chapel. At Derby a 
 person went about the country, at Christmas-time, to 
 gentlemen's houses, and begged for the benefit of 
 the debtors. The donations were entered in a book, 
 and signed by each donor. About fourteen pounds 
 were generally collected in this manner. 
 
 Chesterfield gaol was the property of the Duke of 
 Portland, and Howard describes it thus : 
 
 1 Only one room, with a cellar under it, to which 
 the Prisoners occasionally descend through a hole in 
 the floor. The cellar had not been cleaned for many 
 months. The Prison door had not been opened for 
 several weeks, when I was there first. There were 
 four Prisoners, who told me they were almost starved ; 
 one of them said, with tears in his eyes, " he had not 
 eaten a morsel that day," — it was afternoon. They 
 had borrowed a book of Dr. Manton's ; one of them 
 was reading it to the rest. Each of them had a 
 wife, and they had, in the whole, thirteen children, 
 cast on their respective parishes. Two had their 
 groats from the Creditors, and out of that pittance 
 they relieved the other two. No allowance : no 
 straw: no firing: water a halfpenny for about three 
 gallons, put in (as other things are) at the window. 
 •Gaoler lives distant. 1 
 
 At Salisbury gaol, just outside the prison gate, a 
 
 R2 
 
241 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 round staple was fixed in the wall, through which 
 was passed a chain, at each end of which was a 
 debtor padlocked by the leg, who offered for sale to 
 the passers-by, nets, laces, purses, etc., made in the 
 prison. At Knaresborough the debtors' prison is 
 thus described : 
 
 6 Of difficult access ; the door about four feet from 
 the ground. Only one room, about fourteen feet by 
 twelve. Earth floor : no fireplace : very offensive : a 
 common sewer from the town running through it 
 uncovered. I was informed that an Officer confined 
 here some years since, for only a few days, took in 
 with him a dog to defend him from vermin ; but the 
 dog was soon destroyed, and the Prisoner's face much 
 disfigured by them/ 
 
 The gaolers were not always the most gentle of 
 men, as may be seen by the trial of one Acton, 
 deputy-keeper and turnkey of the Marshalsea, for 
 the murder of a prisoner named Thomas Bliss. The 
 indictment will briefly tell the story : 
 
 1 That the said William Acton, being Deputy 
 Keeper, under John Darby, of the said prison, being 
 a person of inhuman and cruel disposition, did, on the 
 21st of October, in the Year of our Lord, 1726, 
 cruelly, barbarously, and feloniously Beat, Assault, 
 and Wound the said Thomas Bliss in the said Prison, 
 viz., in the Parish of Saint George's-in-the-Fields, 
 in the Borough of Southivark, in the County of 
 Surrey, and did put Irons and Fetters of great and 
 immense weight upon his legs, and an Iron Instru- 
 ment, and Engine of Torture, upon the Head of the 
 said Thomas Bliss, called the Scull-cap, and also 
 Thumb-screws upon his Thumbs; and the said 
 TJwmas Bliss was so wounded, fettered, tortured and 
 
IMPRISONMENT FOR DEBT. 245 
 
 tormented in the Strong Room of the said Prison 
 (which is a dangerous, damp, noisome, filthy, and un- 
 wholesome place) did put, and him did there detain 
 several days ; by means of which excruciating Tor- 
 tures, close Confinement, Duress, and cruel Abuses, 
 the said Thomas Bliss got so ill an Habit of Body, 
 that he continued in a languishing Condition till the 
 25th Day of March following, and then died/ 
 
 Although the facts of the indictment were fully 
 borne out by the evidence, the jury acquitted Acton. 
 I should mention that Bliss had twice attempted to 
 escape from the prison. 
 
 Let us pass to a pleasanter theme, and see what 
 was the inner life of a debtor's prison about 1750, the 
 story of which is told in a little book undated. 1 The 
 foot-notes are taken from the book. 
 
 Close by the Borders of a slimy Flood, 
 Which now in secret rumbles through the Mud ; 
 (Tho' heretofore it roll'd expos'd to light, 
 Obnoxious to th' offended City's Sight). 2 
 
 Twin Arches now the sable Stream enclose, 
 
 Upon whose Basis late a Fabrick rose ; 
 
 In whose extended oblong Boundaries, "| 
 
 Are Shops and Sheds, and Stalls of all Degrees, I 
 
 For Fruit, Meat, Herbage, Trinkets, Pork and Peas. J 
 
 A prudent City Scheme, and kindly meant ; 
 
 The Town's oblig'd, their Worships touch the Rent. 
 
 1 'The Humours of the Fleet.' A Poem, by W. Paget, 
 Comedian, &c. Birmingham. 
 
 2 Where the Fleet Market is now, there was, a few Years 
 since, a Ditch, with a muddy Channel of Water. The Market 
 was built at the Expense of the Lord Mayor and Court of Alder- 
 men, who receive the Rent for it. 
 
246 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Near this commodious Market's miry Verge, 
 
 The Prince of Prisons stands, compact and large ; 
 
 Where by the Jigger's 1 more than magick Charm, 
 
 Kept from the Power of doing Good — or Harm, 
 
 Relenting Captives inly ruminate 
 
 Misconduct past, and curse their present State ; 
 
 Tho' sorely griev'd, few are so void of Grace, 
 
 As not to wear a seeming cheerful face : 
 
 In Drink or Sports ungrateful Thoughts must die, 
 
 For who can bear Heart- wounding Calumny ? 
 
 Therefore Cabals engage of various Sorts, 
 
 To walk, to drink, or play at different Sports, 
 
 Here oblong Table's verdant Plain, 
 
 The ivory Ball bounds and rebounds again* ; 
 
 There at Backgammon two sit tete-a-tete, 
 
 And curse alternately their adverse fate ; 
 
 These are at Cribbage, those at Whist engag'd, 
 
 And, as they lose, by turns become enrag'd ; 
 
 Some of more sedentary Temper, read 
 
 Chance-medley Books, which duller Dulness breeds ' T 
 
 Or Politick in Coffee-room, some pore 
 
 The Papers and Advertisements thrice o'er ; 
 
 Warm'd with the Alderman, 1 some sit up late, 
 
 To fix th' Insolvent Bill, and Nation's fate : 
 
 Hence, Knotty Points at different Tables rise, 
 
 And either Party's wond'rous, wond'rous wise ; 
 
 Some of low Taste, ring Hand-Bells, direful Noise ! 
 
 And interrupt their Fellows' harmless Joys ; 
 
 Disputes more noisy now a Quarrel breeds, 
 
 And Fools on both Sides fall to Loggerheads ; 
 
 Till, wearied with persuasive Thumps and Blows, 
 
 They drink, are Friends, as tho' they ne'er were Foes. 
 
 1 The Door-keeper, or he who opens and shuts the Jigs, is 
 call'd the Jigger. 
 
 2 Billiards is a very common game here. 
 
 1 Fine Ale drank in the Coffee-room, call'd the ■ Alderman,' be- 
 cause brew'd by Alderman Parsons. 
 
IMPRISONMENT FOR DEBT. 247 
 
 Without distinction, intermixed is seen, 
 
 A 'Squire dirty, and Mechanick clean : 
 
 The Spendthrift Heir, who in his Chariot rolFd, 
 
 All his Possessions gone, Reversions sold, 
 
 Now mean, as one profuse, the stupid Sot 
 
 Sits by a Runner's Side, 1 and shules 2 a Pot. 
 
 Some Sots, ill-mannered, drunk, a harmless Flight ! 
 Rant noisy thro' the Galleries all Night ; 
 For which, if Justice had been done of late, 
 The Pump 3 had been three pretty Masters' Fate, 
 With Stomach's empty, and Heads full of Care, 
 Some Wretches swill the Pump, and walk the Bare.* 
 Within whose ample Oval is a Court, "1 
 
 Where the more Active and Robust resort, f 
 
 And glowing, exercise a manly Sport. J 
 
 (Strong Exercise with mod'rate Food is good, 
 It drives in sprightful Streams the circling Blood ;) 
 While these, with Rackets strike the flying Ball, 
 Some play at Nine-pins, Wrestlers take a Fall ; 
 Beneath a Tent some drink, and some above 
 Are slily in their Chambers making Love ; 
 Venus and Bacchus each keeps here a Shrine, 
 And many Vot'ries have to Love and Wine. 
 
 Such the Amusements of this merry Jail, 
 Which you'll not reach, if Friends or Money fail ; 
 For e'er it's threefold Gates it will unfold, 
 The destin'd Captive must produce some Gold; 
 
 1 A Runner is a Fellow that goes abroad of Errands for the 
 Prisoners. 
 
 * Begs. 
 
 * Persons who give any Considerable offence are often try'd, 
 and undergo the Discipline of the Pump. The Author was one 
 of these in a drunken Frolick, for which he condemns himself. 
 
 4 A Spacious place, where there are all sorts of Exercises, but 
 especially Fives. 
 
248 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Four Guineas at the least for difFrent Fees, 
 Compleats your Habeas, and commands the Keys ; 
 Which done, and safely in, no more you're led, 
 If you have Cash, you'll find a Friend and Bed ; 
 But, that deficient, you'll but ill betide, 
 Lie in the Hall, 1 perhaps on Common Side. 2 
 
 But now around you gazing Jiggers swarm,* 
 To draw your Picture, that's their usual Term ; 
 Your Form and Features strictly they survey, 
 Then leave you (if you can) to run away. 
 
 To them succeeds the Chamberlain, to see 
 
 If you and he are likely to agree ; f 
 
 Whether you'll tip, 4 and pay you're Master's Fee. 5 J 
 
 Ask him how much ? 'Tis one Pound, six, and eight ; 
 
 And, if you want, he'll not the Twopence bate ; 
 
 When paid, he puts on an important Face, 
 
 And shows Mount-scoundrel 6 for a charming Place ; 
 
 You stand astonish'd at the darken'd Hole, 
 
 Sighing, the Lord have Mercy on my Soul ! 
 
 And ask, Have you no other Rooms, Sir, pray ? 
 
 Perhaps inquire what Rent, too, you're to pay : 
 
 1 A Publick Place, free for all Prisoners. 
 2 Where those lie who can't pay their Master's Fee. 
 
 3 There are several of these Jiggers, or Door-keepers, who re- 
 lieve one another, and, when a Prisoner comes first in, they take a 
 nice Observation of him, for fear of his escaping. 
 
 4 A cant Word for giving some Money in order to show a 
 Lodging. 
 
 5 Which is One Pound, Six, and Eightpence, and then you are 
 entitled to a bed on the Master's-side, for which you pay so much 
 per Week. 
 
 6 Mount -scoundrel, so-call'd from its being highly situated, 
 and belonging, once, to the Common-side, tho' lately added to 
 the Master's ; if there be room in the House, this Place is first 
 empty, and the Chamberlain commonly shows this to raise his 
 Price upon you for a better. 
 
IMPRISONMENT FOR DEBT. 249 
 
 Entreating that he would a better seek ; 
 
 The Rent (cries gruffly) 's Half-a-Crown a Week. 
 
 The Rooms have all a Price, some good, some bad, 
 
 But pleasant ones, at present, can't be had ; 
 
 This Room, in my Opinion's not amiss ; 
 
 Then cross his venal Palm with Half a Piece, 1 V 
 
 He strait accosts you with another face. J 
 
 How your Affairs may stand, I do not know ; 
 
 But here, Sir, Cash does frequently run low. 
 
 I'll serve you — don't be lavish — only mum ! 
 
 Take my Advice, I'll help you to a Chum. 2 
 
 A Gentleman, Sir, see — and hear him speak, 
 
 With him you'll pay but fifteen Pence a Week,* 
 
 Yet his Apartments on the Upper Floor, 4 
 
 Well-furnished, clean and nice ; who'd wish for more? 
 
 A Gentleman of Wit and Judgement too ! 
 
 Who knows the Place, 5 what's what, and who is who ; 
 
 My Praise, alas ! can't equal his Deserts ; 
 
 In brief — you'll find him, Sir, a Man of Parts. 
 
 Thus, while his fav'rite Friend he recommends, 
 
 He compasses at once their several Ends ; 
 
 The new-come Guest is pleas'd that he shou'd meet 
 
 So kind a Chamberlain, a Chum so neat ; 
 
 But, as conversing thus, they nearer come, 
 
 Behold before his Door the destin'd Chum. 
 
 1 Half-a-guinea. 
 2 A Bed-fellow so call'd. 
 
 3 When you have a Chum, you pay but fifteen Pence per Week 
 •each, and, indeed, that is the Rent of a whole Room, if you find 
 Furniture. 
 
 4 The Upper Floors are accounted best here, for the same 
 Reason as they are at Edinburgh, which, I suppose, every Body 
 knows. 
 
 5 It is common to mention the Fleet by the name of the Place, 
 and I suppose it is call'd the Place by way of Eminence, because 
 there is not such another. 
 
250 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Why he stood there, himself cou'd scarcely tell, 
 
 But there he had not stood had Things gone well ; 
 
 Had one poor Half -penny but blest his Fob, "] 
 
 Or if in prospect he had seen a Job, > 
 
 H' had strain' d his Credit for a Dram of Bob. 1 J 
 
 But now, in pensive Mood, with Head downcast, 
 
 His Eyes transfix'd as tho' they look'd their last ; 
 
 One Hand his open Bosom lightly held, 
 
 And one an empty Breeches Pocket fill'd ; 
 
 His Dowlas Shirt no Stock, nor Cravat, bore, 
 
 And on his Head, no Hat* nor Wig he wore, 
 
 But a once black shag Cap, surcharg'd with Sweat ; 
 
 His Collar, here a Hole, and there a Pleat, 
 
 Both grown alike in Colour, that — alack ! 
 
 This neither now was White, nor was that Black, 
 
 But matched his dirty yellow Beard so true, 
 
 They form'd a threefold Cast of Brickdust Hue. 
 
 Meagre his Look, and in his nether Jaw 
 
 Was stuff'd an eleemosynary Chaw. 2 
 
 (Whose Juice serves present Hunger to asswage, 
 
 Which yet returns again with tenfold Rage.) 
 
 His Coat, which catch'd the Droppings from his Chin, 
 
 Was clos'd, at Bottom, with a Corking Pin ; 
 
 Loose were his Knee-bands, and unty'd his Hose, 
 Coax'd* in the Heel, in pulling o'er his Toes ; 
 Which, spite of all his circumspective Care, 
 Did thro' his broken, dirty Shoes appear. 
 
 Just in this hapless Trim, and pensive Plight, 
 
 1 A Cant Word for a Dram of Geneva. 
 2 A Chew of Tobacco — supposed to be given him. 
 3 When there are Holes above Heel, or the Feet are so bad in a 
 Stocking that you are forced to pull them to hide the Holes, or 
 cover the Toes, it is call'd Coaxing. 
 
IMPRISONMENT FOR DEBT. 251 
 
 The old Collegian 1 stood confess'd to Sight ; 
 Whom, when our new-come Guest at first beheld, 
 He started back, with great Amazement fill'd ; 
 Turns to the Chamberlain, says, Bless my Eyes ! "1 
 Is this the Man you told me was so nice ? > 
 
 I meant, his Room was so, Sir, he replies ; J 
 
 The Man is now in Dishabille and Dirt, 
 He shaves To-morrow, tho', and turns his Shirt ; 
 Stand not at Distance, I'll present you — Come, 
 My Friend, how is't ? I've brought you here a Chum ; 
 One that's a Gentleman ; a worthy Man, 
 And you'll oblige me, serve him all you can. 
 
 The Chums salute, the old Collegian first, 
 Bending his Body almost to the Dust ; 
 Upon his Face unusual Smiles appear, 
 And long-abandon'd Hope his Spirits cheer ; 
 Thought he, Relief's at hand, and I shall eat ; "") 
 Will you walk in, good Sir, and take a seat ? V 
 
 We have what's decent here, though not compleat. J 
 As for myself, I scandalize the Room, 
 But you'll consider, Sir, that I'm at Home ; 
 Tho' had I thought a Stranger to have seen, 
 I should have ordered Matters to 've been clean ; 
 But here, amongst ourselves, we never mind, 
 Borrow or lend — reciprocally kind ; 
 Regard not Dress, tho', Sir, I have a Friend 
 Has Shirts enough, and, if you please, I'll send. 
 No Ceremony, Sir, — You give me Pain, 
 I have a clean Shirt, Sir, but have you twain ? 
 Oh yes, and twain to boot, and those twice told, 
 Besides, I thank my Stars, a Piece of Gold. 
 
 1 As the Prison is often called the College, so it is common to 
 call a Prisoner a Collegian ; and this Character is taken from a 
 Man who had been many Years in the Place, and like to continue 
 his Life. 
 
252 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Why then, I'll be so free, Sir, as to borrow, 
 I mean a Shirt, Sir — only till To- morrow. 
 You're welcome, Sir ; — I'm glad you are so free ; 
 Then turns the old Collegian round with Glee, 
 Whispers the Chamberlain with secret Joy, 
 We live To-night ! — I'm sure he'll pay his Foy ; 
 Turns to his Chum again with Eagerness, 
 And thus bespeaks him with his best Address : 
 
 See, Sir, how pleasant, what a Prospect's there ; 
 Below you see them sporting on the Bare ; 
 Above, the Sun, Moon, Stars, engage the Eye, 
 And those Abroad can't see beyond the Sky ; 
 These Rooms are better far than those beneath, 
 A clearer Light, a sweeter Air we breathe ; 
 A decent Garden does our Window grace 
 With Plants untainted, undisturb'd the Glass ; 
 In short, Sir, nothing can be well more sweet ; 
 But I forgot — perhaps you chuse to eat, 
 Tho', for my Part, I've nothing of my own, 
 To-day I scraped my Yesterday's Blade-bone ; 
 But we can send — Ay, Sir, with all my Heart, 
 (Then, very opportunely, enters Smart 1 ) 
 Oh, here's our Cook, he dresses all Things well ; 
 Will you sup here, or do you chuse the Cell ? 
 There's mighty good Accommodations there, 
 Rooms plenty, or a Box in Bartholm'2 Fair ; 
 There, too, we can divert you, and may show 
 Some Characters are worth your while to know. 
 Replies the new Collegian, Nothing more 
 I wish to see, be pleas'd to go before ; 
 And, Smart, provide a handsome Dish for Four. 
 
 1 The Name of the Cook of the Kitchen. 
 2 A place in the Cellar call'd Bartholomew Fair. 
 
IMPRISONMENT FOR DEBT. 253 
 
 But I forget ; the Stranger and his Chum, 
 With t'other two, to Barth'lomew Fair are come ; 
 Where, being seated, and the supper past, 
 They drink so deep, and put about so fast, 
 That, e're the warning Watchman walks about, 
 With dismal tone Eepeating, Who goes out f 1 
 Ere St. Paul's Clock no longer will withold 
 From striking Ten, and the voice cries — All told ; 2 
 Ere this, our new Companions, everyone 
 In roaring Mirth and Wine so far were gone, 
 That ev'ry Sense from ev'ry Part was fled, 
 And were with Difficulty got to Bed; 
 Where, in the Morn, recover'd from his Drink, 
 The new Collegian may have Time to think ; 
 And recollecting how he spent the Night, 
 Explore his Pockets, and not find a Doit. 
 
 Too thoughtless Man ! to lavish thus away 
 A Week's support in less than half a Day, 
 But 'tis a Curse attends this wretched Place, 
 To pay for dear-bought Wit in little Space, 
 Till Time shall come when this new Tenant here, 
 Will in his turn shule for a Pot of Beer, 
 Eepent the melting of his Cash too fast, 
 And Snap at Strangers for a Night's Repast. 
 
 1 Who goes out? is repeated by Watchmen Prisoners from 
 half-an-hour after nine till St. Paul's Clock strikes Ten, to give 
 Visitors Notice to depart. 
 
 2 While St. Paul's is striking Ten, the Watchman don't call 
 Who goes out ? but when the last stroke is given they cry All 
 told ! at which time the Gates are lock'd and nobody suffer'd to 
 go out upon any Account. 
 
254 
 
 JONAS HANWAY. 
 
 F Jonas Hanway had lived before Fuller, 
 he certainly would have been enshrined 
 among his < Worthies ;' and it is astonish- 
 ing to find how comparatively ignorant 
 of him and his works are even well-read 
 men. Ask one about him, and he will reply that he 
 was a philanthropist, but he will hardly be able to 
 say in what way he was philanthropic : ask another, 
 and the reply will be that he was the man who intro- 
 duced umbrellas into England — but it is very ques- 
 tionable if he could tell whence he got the umbrella 
 to introduce. But in his time he was a man of mark, 
 and his memory deserves more than a short notice in 
 * Chalmers,' the ' Biographie Universelle,' or any other 
 biographical dictionary. 
 
 He was born at Portsmouth on the 12th of August, 
 1712, in the reign of ■ good Queen Anne.' History is 
 silent as to his pedigree, save and except that his 
 father was connected with the navy, and was for 
 some years store-keeper to the dockyard at Ports- 
 mouth, and his uncle by the father's side was a Major 
 John Hanway, who translated some odes of Horace, 
 &c. His father died whilst Jonas was still a boy, and 
 Mrs. Hanway had much trouble to bring up her 
 young family, who all turned out well, and were 
 
JONAS HAN WA Y. 255 
 
 prosperous in after life : one son, Thomas, filling the 
 post of commander-in-chief of his Majesty's ships at 
 Plymouth, and afterwards commissioner of the dock- 
 yard at Chatham. 
 
 On his father's death, his mother removed to Lon- 
 don, where, somehow or other, she brought up her 
 children by her own exertions, and with such care 
 and affection that Jonas never spoke, or wrote, of his 
 mother but in terms of the highest reverence and 
 gratitude. He was sent to school, where he was 
 not only educated commercially, but classically. 
 Still, he had his bread to win, and, when he was 
 seventeen years of age, he was sent to Lisbon, which 
 he reached June, 1729, and was bound apprentice to a 
 merchant, under whose auspices he developed the 
 business qualities which afterwards stood him in 
 good stead. At the end of his apprenticeship he set 
 up in business for himself in Lisbon, but soon re- 
 moved to the wider field of London. What pursuit 
 he followed there, neither he, nor any biographer of 
 his, has told us, but in 1743 he accepted the offer of a 
 partnership in Mr. Dingley's house at St. Petersburg. 
 
 What a difference in the voyage from London to 
 St. Petersburg, then and now ! Now, overland : it 
 only takes two days and a half. 
 
 Then, in April, 1743, he embarked on the Thames 
 in a crazy old tub, bound for Riga, and got to Elsi- 
 nore in May. As everything then was done in a 
 leisurely manner, they stopped there for some days, 
 arriving at Riga by the end of May, having taken 
 twenty-six days to go from Elsinore to Riga, now 
 done by steam, under fair conditions, in two days. 
 
 Here he found, as most people do, the Russian 
 spring as hot as he ever remembered summer in 
 
256 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Portugal, and was most hospitably entertained by 
 the British factors. But Russia was at war with 
 Sweden, and, although he had plenty of letters of 
 recommendation, the Governor of Riga would not 
 allow him to proceed on his journey, until he had 
 communicated with the authorities at St. Petersburg, 
 thus causing a delay of a fortnight, and he did not 
 leave until the 7th of June. His sojourn at Riga, 
 however, was not lost, for he kept his eyes open, and 
 looked about him. 
 
 Travelling by post in Russia, even now, is not a 
 luxury ; it must have been ten times worse then, 
 when he started on his journey in his sleeping- wagon, 
 which was 'made of leather, resembling a cradle, and 
 hung upon braces,' and his report of his journey was 
 that 'the post-horses are exceedingly bad, but as 
 the stages are short, and the houses clean, the incon- 
 venience is supportable.' He made the journey in 
 four days. 
 
 On his arrival, he soon set to work on the business 
 that he came out to execute, namely, the opening of 
 trade through the Caspian Sea to Persia, a journey 
 which involved crossing Russia in Europe from the 
 north-west to the south-east. This route had already 
 been trodden by a sailor named Elton, who had 
 spent some years among the nomadic Tartar tribes, 
 and had, in 1739, descended the Volga with a cargo 
 of goods, intending to go to Mesched ; but he sold 
 them before he reached there, at Resched, for a good 
 price, and obtained leave to trade for the future. He 
 returned to St. Petersburg, went again to Persia, and 
 remained there in the service of Nadir Shah. It was 
 to supply his defection that Jonas Hanway went out 
 to Russia. 
 
JONAS HANWAY. 257 
 
 On the 10th of September, 1743, he set out on his 
 veritably perilous journey, and it is really worth 
 while to describe the despatch of goods in Kussia at 
 that day. ' In Russia carriages for merchandize are 
 drawn only by one horse. These vehicles are nine 
 or ten feet long, and two or three broad, and are 
 principally composed of two strong poles, supported 
 by four wheels, of near an equal size, and about as 
 high as the fore wheels of our ordinary coaches, but 
 made very slight, many of the rounds of the wheels 
 are of a single piece of wood, and open, in one part, 
 for near an inch, and some of them are not shod with 
 iron. 
 
 1 The first care is to lay the bales as high as the 
 cart will admit on a bed of mats of the thickest sort. 
 Besides the original package, which is calculated to 
 stand the weather, the bales are usually covered 
 with very thick mats, and over these other mats are 
 laid to prevent the friction of the ropes ; lastly, there 
 is another covering of mats, in the want of raw cow- 
 hides, which are always best to defend goods from 
 rain, or from the snow, which, when it melts, is yet 
 more penetrating. Each bale is sealed up with a 
 leaden seal, to prevent its being opened on the road, 
 or any of the goods vended in the Country, that is, 
 when they are intended for Persia 
 
 * The Caravans generally set out about twelve, both 
 in the night and day, except in the heat of summer. 
 In the winter, between St. Petersburg and Mosco, 
 they usually travel seventy wersts 1 (about forty-seven 
 English miles) in twenty-four hours, but from Moscow 
 to Zaritzen only forty or fifty wersts : in summer their 
 stages are shorter. Great part of the last-mentioned 
 1 A werst is one thousand and sixty-seven metres. 
 
 S 
 
258 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 road being through an uninhabited country, makes 
 the Carriers cautious not to jade their horses. Every 
 time they set out, the conductors ought to count the 
 loads. When necessity requires that the Caravan 
 should be drawn within fences, or into yards, the 
 heads of the waggons ought to stand towards the 
 door in regular order, and a guard, who will keep a 
 better watch than an ordinary carrier, should be set 
 over it : for want of this precaution, whole Caravans 
 in Russia have been sometimes consumed by fire. 
 It is most eligible to stop in the field, where the usual 
 method is to form the Carriages into a ring, and bring 
 the horses, as well as the men, within it, always ob- 
 serving to keep in such a position as best to prevent 
 an attack, or repulse an enemy. 
 
 ' The Khalmucks on the banks "of the Volga are 
 ever ready to embrace an opportunity of plundering 
 and destroying passengers ; therefore, when there is 
 any occasion to travel on those banks, which should 
 be avoided as much as possible, an advance guard of 
 at least four Cossacks is of great use, especially to 
 patrole in the night ; it is not often practised, but I 
 found it indispensably necessary when I travelled on 
 those banks 
 
 6 A hundred carriages take up two-thirds of a mile 
 in length, so that, when no horseman is at hand to 
 spread the alarm, the rear might be easily carried off. 
 They have not even a trumpet, horn, or other instru- 
 ment for this purpose ; they trust in providence, and 
 think any care of this kind unnecessary, though the 
 neglect has sometimes proved of fatal consequence.' 
 
 In this primitive style he set forth on his trading 
 venture to Persia, taking with him a clerk, a Russian, 
 as menial servant, a Tartar boy, and a soldier, by way 
 
JONAS HANWAY. 259 
 
 of guard, He had * a convenient sleeping-waggon ' 
 for himself, and another for his clerk — the Russ, the 
 Tartar, and the soldier evidently having to shift as 
 the drivers of the twenty loads of goods (consisting 
 of thirty-seven bales of English cloth) did. It is in- 
 teresting to follow out this little venture. The 
 caravan started on the 1st of September, 1743, and 
 ten days afterwards he set out to join it, which he 
 did at Tver, arriving at Moscow on the 20th of 
 September. 
 
 Here he looked about him, 'saw the Great Bell, &c. 
 received no little hospitality, and repaired the defects 
 of his caravan, starting again on the 24th of 
 September, and his instructions to his limited suite 
 were to avoid all occasion of dispute, and, should such 
 unfortunately arise, he should be informed of it, in 
 order that he might deal with it according to the 
 best of his judgment. But he went among the Tar- 
 tars without any misadventure, noting some very 
 curious facts, until he came to Tzaritzin, on the 
 Volga, whence he proposed to commence his some- 
 what perilous journey by water, to the Caspian Sea. 
 He arrived at Tzaritzin on the 9th of October, but, 
 as there was not the same pushing and driving in 
 business then as now, he stopped there for a month 
 to recruit, and hire a vessel. He succeeded in get- 
 ting one, such a thing as it was, but then he only 
 paid a nominal sum for it. As he justly observes : 
 ' The reader will imagine that forty roubles 1 cannot 
 purchase a good vessel ; however, this price pro- 
 duced the best I could find. Their decks were only 
 loose pieces of the barks of trees; they have no 
 knees, and but few beams : hardly any pitch or tar 
 
 1 Then valued at four shillings each, or eight pounds in all. 
 
 s2 
 
260 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 is used, in place of it are long slips of bark, which 
 they nail over the gaping seams, to prevent the 
 loose and bad corking (caulking) from falling out. 
 Instead of iron bolts, they have spikes of deal with 
 round heads. The method of keeping them clear of 
 water is by a large scoop, which is suspended by the 
 beam over the well- way, and through a scuttle at a 
 proper height they scoop out the water with great 
 facility.' 
 
 He bought two of these A.l. vessels, and put a crew 
 of five fishermen on board each, besides his own suite, 
 and, because of the pirates who infested those waters, 
 he hired a guard of six soldiers. By-the-way, they had 
 a rough and ready way of dealing with these pirates 
 when they did catch them. ' As their cruelties are 
 very great, so is the punishment inflicted on them 
 when they are taken. A float is built, in size accord- 
 ing to the number of delinquents, and a gallows 
 erected on it, to contain a sufficient number of iron 
 hooks, on which they are hung alive, by the ribs. 
 The float is launched into the stream, with labels 
 over their heads, signifying their crimes ; and orders 
 are given to all towns and villages on the borders of 
 the river, upon pain of death, not only to afford no 
 relief to any of these wretches, but to push off the 
 float, should it land near them. Sometimes their 
 partners in wickedness meet them, and, if there are ' 
 any signs of life, take him down, otherwise they shoot 
 them dead ; but, if they are catched in these acts of 
 illegal mercy, they are hung up without the cere- 
 mony of a trial, as happened about eight years ago. 
 They tell me of one of these miscreants who had the 
 fortune to disengage himself from the hook, and 
 though naked, and trembling with pain and loss of 
 
JONAS HAN WAY. 261 
 
 blood, he got ashore. The first object he saw who 
 could afford him any relief was a poor shepherd, 
 whose brains he beat out with a stone, and took his 
 clothes. These malefactors sometimes hang thus 
 three, four, and five days alive. The pain generally 
 produces a raging fever, in which they utter the most 
 horrid imprecations, and implore the relief of water, 
 or other small liquors.' 
 
 He was observant, and, on his journey down the 
 Volga, he noted many things which throw much 
 light on the social life in Russia of these days. Take 
 for instance the following : ' The 14th of October 
 I sent letters to my friends, by messengers who are 
 appointed to attend a box of grapes, which is sent 
 from Astrachan to the Empress's Court every three 
 days during the season. It is carried by two horses, 
 supported in the manner of a litter. The grapes are 
 preserved in sand, but, at best, are ill worth the 
 expense of the conveyance for one thousand two 
 hundred English miles.' 
 
 He sailed from Tzaritzin on the 14th of October, 
 and on the 19th of the same month he reached 
 Astrachan, where he was kindly received by Mr. 
 George Thompson, agent to the British merchants 
 trading to Persia ; and also by the Russian governor 
 (a quondam page to Peter the Great) who gave him 
 many assurances that every help should be afforded 
 him in his trade with Persia — but candidly informed 
 him what rogues the Armenian traders were : i They 
 are the most crafty people in all Asia, and delight in 
 fraud. Let them get fifty per Cent, in a fair way, they 
 are not contented without cheating five, and the five 
 is sweeter than the fifty.' 
 
 Lapow, even then, was a recognized institution 
 
262 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 in Russia, for Hanway observes, ' The Officers of the 
 the Admiralty and Custom-House of Astrachan have 
 very small salaries, which is the case in all other 
 places in Bussia : so that, instead of doing their 
 duty to despatch business, they often seek pretences 
 to protract it, in order to obtain the more consider- 
 able presents. Upon these occasions French Brandy, 
 white wine, hats, stockings, ribbons, and such like 
 are acceptable.' Now-a-days, things are managed in 
 a less cumbrous form. Rouble Notes take the place of 
 gross material — but the Russian Official is unchanged. 
 
 Again, * Whilst I was busied in getting what in- 
 formations were necessary, the governor invited me 
 to a feast, at which there were nearly a hundred 
 dishes; here I saw a singular specimen of Russian 
 intemperance, for there were above thirty people who 
 drank to excess, in goblets, a kind of cherry brandy. 
 This feast was made for the birth of his grand- 
 daughter, on which occasion the guests presented an 
 offering each according to his rank. This is a civil 
 way of levying a heavy tax on the merchants, and a 
 custom, tho' not elegant, less absurd than that of 
 some politer countries ; for here, without disguise or 
 ceremony, you leave one or two ducats, or some 
 richer present on the lady's bed, who sits up with 
 great formality to be saluted.' 
 
 From Astrachan he went to Yerkie, at the mouth 
 of the Volga, and virtually on the Caspian Sea, 
 whence he set sail on the 22nd of November, arriv- 
 ing at Astrabad Bay on the 18th of December, where 
 his vessel was taken for a pirate, and signal fires 
 were, in consequence, lit on the hill-tops, etc. So he 
 lay at anchor for a few days, employing his men in 
 
JONAS HANWAY. 263 
 
 packing his goods so that they might be easily car- 
 ried on land ; and he gives us a curious insight into 
 the life of sailors of that period. 
 
 1 The 25th being Christmas Day, I excused the 
 seamen from the package of cloth, and prevailed on 
 them to hear prayers, and a sermon. English sea- 
 men, of all mankind, seem the most indifferent with 
 regard to religious duties ; but their indifference is 
 more the effect of want of reflection than the 
 irreligious carelessness of their leaders. It is not to 
 be imagined they would fight less if they prayed 
 more; at least we find the praying warriors in 
 Cromwell's days fought as if they were sure of be- 
 coming saints in heaven. Certain it is our seamen 
 do not entertain the same impressions of religion as 
 the common run of labouring people.' 
 
 Hanway had been warned that he must take care 
 of himself at Astrabad ; that, probably, he would be 
 robbed, and most certainly cheated ; but never hav- 
 ing received such treatment, and with his conscious 
 faith of being an honest Englishman, he gave but 
 little heed to the caution, but spent many days on 
 ship-board, making up his merchandize into suitable 
 packages for land carriage, and when he did land, he 
 went in state, on horseback, to visit the governor, 
 taking with him the invariable Oriental present, 
 which, in his case, consisted of fine cloth, and loaves 
 of sugar. He was kindly received by the governor, 
 but soon having experienced the deceit and duplicity 
 of the people, he hurried forward his departure for 
 Mesched, sending ten camel loads of goods in ad- 
 vance. Luckily he did so, for the next day the town 
 was besieged by Turcomans, who wanted to get pos- 
 
264 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 session of the Shah's treasure, then in Astrabad, as 
 well as the English goods, which presented an almost 
 irresistible temptation to them. 
 
 Hanway was advised to disguise himself and fly, 
 but he was an Englishman, and had the pluck of his 
 race ; so he concluded to stay, in spite of the objur- 
 gations and maledictions of some of the inhabit- 
 ants, who cursed him as being the cause of their 
 misfortunes. The town made but a feeble resist- 
 ance, and, soon after its fall, Hanway received a visit 
 from the captors, the story of which he thus tells : 
 
 'I had collected my servants in one room, from 
 whence I sent a little boy, a servant, who understood 
 the Turkish language, which is most known to the 
 Khajars, to conduct these hostile visitors to us, and to 
 tell them that, as we were at their mercy, we hoped 
 they would treat us with humanity. They immediately 
 entered, and assured us they did not mean to hurt us ; 
 on the contrary, that as soon as their government was 
 established, they would pay me for my goods. They 
 demanded, at the same time, where they were lodged ; 
 and informed me that the forty bales which I had 
 sent out of the town some days before, were already 
 in their possession. Mahommed Khan Beg then de- 
 manded my purse, which I had prepared with about 
 thirty crowns in gold and silver ; he contented him- 
 self for the present with counting it, and then re- 
 turned it to me, demanding if I had any more, for 
 that it would be the worse for me if I concealed any. 
 I thought it warrantable, however, to make an evasive 
 answer, though it was a true one as to the fact ; viz., 
 that all the town knew very well that I had been 
 searching for money in exchange for my bill on Mr. 
 Elton, not having sufficient to convey my Caravan to 
 
JONAS HAN WAY, 265 
 
 Mesched. As gold can purchase anything except 
 virtue and health, understanding and beauty, I 
 thought it might now administer to our safety. I 
 therefore reserved a purse of one hundred and sixty 
 crowns in gold, apprehending that the skilful appli- 
 cation of it might ward off the danger which threat- 
 ened us ; but 1 afterwards found that our security 
 was in our supposed poverty, for in near three weeks 
 distress, I durst not show a single piece of gold, 
 much less acknowledge that I had saved any money.' 
 
 He made up his mind to leave Astrabad as soon as 
 possible, and, having obtained an acknowledgment 
 of the value of his goods, at last set out with an 
 escort of about two dozen armed men, under the 
 command of a Hadji, or a holy man, who had made 
 a pilgrimage to Mecca. Needless to say his escort 
 were a pack of rogues, and it was by sheer good 
 luck, and at some risk, that, at last, he fell in with 
 some officers of the Shah, who were recruiting for 
 forces wherewith to re-conquer Astrabad. They 
 helped him to horses, although he complained of their 
 quality. He got along somehow, although he lost 
 his servants, and at last he reached Langarood, 
 where the renegade Captain Elton lived, seven 
 weeks after he had left Astrabad, and was received 
 by Elton with open arms. Here he stayed some days 
 to recruit, and then pushed on to Reshd. 
 
 A few days more of journeying, and he fell in with 
 the Shah's camp, but failed to have an interview 
 with that exalted potentate. Still his case was 
 brought before Nadir Shah, and, the bill Hanway 
 had received from Mohammed Hassan being pro- 
 duced as evidence, a decree was issued • that I should 
 give the particulars of the loss to Behbud Khan, the 
 
266 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Shah's general at Astrabad, who had orders to deliver 
 to me whatever part of the goods might possibly be 
 found, and to restore them in kind, and the deficiency 
 to be paid out of the sequestered estates of the rebels 
 to the last denier. This was not quite the thing 
 which T. wished for, because it laid me under a 
 necessity of returning to that wretched place, Astra- 
 bad ; however, I could not but acknowledge the 
 highest obligation for so signal a mark of justice and 
 clemency.' 
 
 This act of justice was somewhat unusual with 
 Nadir Shah, of whose cruelty Hanway gives several 
 examples. As, however, one perhaps outstrips its 
 companions in brutality, I venture to give it in his 
 words. ' I will give another example of Nadir's 
 avarice and barbarity, which happened a little before 
 I was in camp. The Shah, having appointed a cer- 
 tain general as governor of a province, imposed an 
 exorbitant tax on it, to be levied in six months : at 
 the expiration of the time the governor was sent for 
 to the camp, and ordered to produce the account. He 
 did so, but it amounted to only half the sum demand- 
 ed. The Shah called him a rascal ; and, telling him 
 he had stolen the other half of the money, ordered 
 the executioner to bastonade him to death : his 
 estates also being confiscated, all his effects fell very 
 short of the demands. The servants of the deceased 
 were then ordered to come into the Shah's presence, 
 and he inquired of them if there was anything left 
 belonging to their master ; to which they answered, 
 Only a dog. He then commanded the dog to be 
 brought before him ; and observed that he appeared 
 to be much honester than his master had been ; how- 
 ever, that he should be led through the camp from 
 
JONAS HAN WAY. 267 
 
 tent to tent, and beaten with sticks, and wherever he 
 expired, the master of such tent should pay the sum 
 deficient. Accordingly the dog was carried to the 
 tents of the ministers, successively, who, hearing the 
 case, immediately gave sums of money, according to 
 their abilities, to procure the removal of the dog : by 
 which the whole sum the Shah demanded was raised 
 in a few hours' time. - ' 
 
 On the 27th of March they set out on their return 
 journey, accompanied by a small escort ; they were 
 detained for some time at Langarood, where Han way 
 had hoped to find a vessel, as the way by land was 
 insecure. But, although a ship was sighted, she 
 never put in ; and the land journey was therefore, 
 perforce, undertaken, and Astrabad was reached on 
 the 16th of May. He saw the Shah's general, who 
 said ' the decree must be obeyed.' Those who had 
 insulted Hanway were most brutally punished — some 
 of his cloth was recovered and given back to him, 
 but there was a difficulty in raising the money for 
 the missing portions, and he was pressed to take 
 payment in women slaves. On his refusal, they beg- 
 ged of him to give them a receipt as if he had been 
 paid, assuring him the money should be forthcoming 
 in a very few days ; but the British merchant was too 
 wary to be caught in such a palpable trap. Eventu- 
 ally he got the greater part of it, and with it return- 
 ed to Langarood, where he waited for some little 
 while, and, at last, he recovered eighty-five per cent, 
 of the value of his goods, according to his own valua- 
 tion, so that, probably, he made a good sale. 
 
 At Langarood he fell ill of a low fever, but was 
 cured by a French missionary, who administered 
 Jesuit's bark (quinine) to him, and he then set out 
 
268 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 on his return journey, having invested all his cash in 
 raw silk. He met with no particular adventures, and 
 arrived safely at St. Petersburg on the 1st of January, 
 1745, * having been absent a year and sixteen weeks, 
 in which time I had travelled about four thousand 
 English miles by land.' 
 
 In noticing this trip of Han way's to the Caspian, 
 it would be a pity if attention were not called to his 
 description of Baku, now coming so much to the 
 front (thanks to the industry and intelligence of the 
 Messrs. Nobel) in providing the world with petroleum. 
 This was the chief shrine of the followers of Zoroas- 
 ter, who considered light, which was typified by fire, 
 (which is bright both by day and night) as emblem- 
 atical of all good, and they therefore worshipped 
 Ormuzd, or the good god, whilst they regarded 
 Ahriman, or darkness, as the evil god. Here, near 
 Baku, the soil is so soaked and saturated with 
 petroleum that a fire, natural and never-ceasing, could 
 easily be obtained, and consequently, being perfectly 
 unartificial, was looked upon as the personification of 
 Ormuzd. Hanway writes, * The earth round this 
 place, for above two miles, has this surprizing pro- 
 perty, that by taking up two or three inches of the 
 surface and applying a live coal, the part which is 
 so uncovered immediately takes fire, almost before 
 
 the coal touches the earth If a cane, or tube 
 
 even of paper, be set about two inches in the ground, 
 confined and closed with earth below, and the top of 
 it touched with a five coal, and blown upon, immedi- 
 ately a flame issues without hurting either the cane 
 or the paper, provided the edges be covered with 
 clay, and this method they use for light in their 
 houses, which have only the earth for the floor ; three 
 
JONAS HAN WAY. 269- 
 
 or four of these lighted canes will boil water in a 
 pot ; and thus they dress their victuals/ 
 
 Baku, the seat of this natural symbol of Ormuzd, 
 was then a place of pilgrimage for the Parsees — and 
 it is not so long since that fire-worship there has been 
 discontinued. Mr. Charles Marvin (writing in 1884) 
 commences his most interesting book, ' The Region of 
 the Eternal Fire,' thus : ' A few years ago a solitary 
 figure might have been daily seen on the shore of the 
 Caspian Sea, worshipping a fire springing naturally 
 from the petroleum gases in the ground. The devotee 
 was a Parsee from India, the last of a series of 
 priests who for more than two thousand five hundred 
 years had tended the sacred flame upon the spot. 
 Round about his crumbling temple was rising greasy 
 derricks, and dingy distilleries — symbols of a fresh 
 cult, the worship of mammon — but, absorbed in his 
 devotions, the Parsee took no heed of the intruders. 
 And so time passed on, and the last of the Fire- 
 Worshippers died, and with him perished the flame 
 that was older than history.' 
 
 He stayed some time in Russia, but undertook no 
 more arduous journeys. Even when he did leave St. 
 Petersburg, on the 9th of July, 1750, he travelled 
 very leisurely overland, reaching Harwich on the 28th 
 of October, 1750, after an absence from England of 
 nearly eight years. He lived in London in a modest 
 fashion, for his fortune was but modest — yet it was 
 sufficient for him to keep a solo carriage, i.e., only 
 carrying one person, and on its panels was painted a 
 device allusive to his dangers in Persia, especially of 
 a somewhat perilous voyage on the Caspian. It con- 
 sisted of ' a man dressed in the Persian habit, just 
 landed in a storm on a rude coast, and leaning on his 
 
270 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 sword, his countenance calm and resigned. In the 
 background was depicted a boat tossed about by the 
 billows; in front, a shield charged with his arms 
 leaning against a tree, and underneath the motto, in 
 English, Never Despair? 
 
 As a result of his eastern experiences, 1 on his return 
 to England he used an umbrella, which at that time 
 for a man to cany was considered somewhat effemin- 
 ate. He is often credited with having introduced 
 that useful article into England ; but it had been 
 generally used by women for fifty years previously 
 — nay, there is in the British Museum (Harl. 630 
 foL*!5b,) an Anglo-Saxon MS. of the eleventh cen- 
 tury — unmistakeably English in its drawing — where- 
 in is an illustration of an umbrella being held (by an 
 attendant) over the head of a king, or nobleman. 
 It is a veritable ' Sangster/ and, as far as form goes, 
 it would pass muster now. From this time the use 
 of the umbrella became familiar, and in general use 
 among men — probably because he introduced them 
 of pure silk, whereas hitherto they had been cum- 
 brous and heavy, being made of oiled paper, muslin, 
 or silk. 
 
 He had enough to live on, and, as in those days no 
 one cared about making a colossal fortune, he lived 
 contentedly on his competence, and wrote a long 
 description of his travels, which was very well illus- 
 trated, and which cost him £700 to produce his first 
 edition of one thousand two hundred copies, after 
 which he disposed of the copyright, and second, 
 third, and fourth editions were published. Still, the 
 
 1 Gay, in his ' Trivia,' book i, says, 
 
 4 Let Persian Dames th' Umbrellas Ribs display, 
 To guard their Beauties from the Sunny Ray.' 
 
JONAS HANWAY. 271 
 
 climate of Russia had not agreed with him, and he 
 had to go to the then fashionable Spa, Tunbridge 
 Wells, and afterwards to Paris, thence to Brussels, 
 Antwerp, and Amsterdam. 
 
 He returned to Tunbridge Wells, where he wrote 
 (in 1753) a treatise against the Naturalisation of the 
 Jews, 1 which was a question then being agitated. 
 One can scarcely imagine a man with large sympa- 
 thies, as was Jonas Hanway, a travelled man, also, 
 of great experience of men, taking the narrow view 
 of such a question of social polity. After a severe 
 fight the Bill was carried (26 Geo. 2) and his Majesty 
 gave his consent on the 7th of June, 1753, 2 but the 
 opposition to it was so great that when Parliament 
 next met (15th of November, 1753) the very first 
 business after the address (which only occupied half- 
 an hour or so — a valuable hint to present M.P.'s) was 
 to bring in a bill repealing the privilege of Natural- 
 ization to the Jews. Popular clamour on its behalf 
 was senseless, as it usually is, but it was too strong 
 to resist, and in the debate thereon, on the 27th of 
 November, 1753, William Pitt (all honour to him) 
 said, ' Thus, sir, though we repeal this law, out of 
 complaisance to the people, yet we ought to let them 
 know that we do not altogether approve of what 
 they ask.' 3 The Bill was carried on the 28th of 
 November, and received the Royal Assent on the 20th 
 of December, the same year, and consequently an 
 
 1 'A Review of the proposed Naturalization of the Jews.' 
 2 Among other Bills which then received the Royal Assent was 
 one for purchasing Sloan e Museum and the Harleian MSS., and for 
 providing a general repository for the same — by means of a lottery 
 — the commencement of the British Museum. 
 
 3 ■ Parliamentary History,' Hansard, vol. xv, p. 154. 
 
272 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 injustice was for some time done to some of the 
 loyalest, quietest, and most law-abiding citizens we 
 have. Hanway, however, thought so strongly on 
 the subject that he wrote four tractates upon it, which, 
 as the question is now happily settled, may be dis- 
 missed with this brief notice. 
 
 He was naturally of a busy turn of mind, and 
 could not sit still. He wrote about anything — it did 
 not much matter what — of the paving, etc. of West- 
 minster and its adjacent parishes ; he even wrote' a 
 big book, beautifully illustrated, on a little trip he 
 took, when travelling was not so common as now, 
 * A Journal of Eight days' Journey from Portsmouth 
 to Kingston-on-Thames/ (1756) a second edition of 
 which was published in two volumes in 1757, with the 
 addition of 'An Essay on Tea, considered as per- 
 nicious to Health, obstructing Industry, and im- 
 poverishing the Nation.' So we see he took strong 
 views on things in general, which have since, by ex- 
 perience, been modified. 
 
 His scribbling propensities probably did some good, 
 for in 1757 we find him taking up the cause of that 
 very meritorious charity, the Marine Society, to 
 which he was a subscriber to the extent of fifteen 
 guineas. This society, whose house is in Bishops- 
 gate Street, is still alive, and, what is more, flourish- 
 ing. About this he wrote four or five pamphlets and 
 books. This seems only to have served as a whet to 
 his appetite for philanthropy, for in 1758 he paid £50 
 to qualify himself as a Life-Governor of the Found- 
 ling Hospital. This, naturally, led him to think upon 
 the source whence the foundlings principally came : 
 and he turned his attention towards the foundation 
 of a Magdalen (?) Hospital, which was, with the co- 
 
JONAS HAN WAY. 273 
 
 operation of several gentlemen, established in Lon- 
 don in 1758, in Great Prescott Street, Goodman's 
 Fields (the site of which is now, or used to be, called 
 Magdalen Row). 
 
 Many more books and pamphlets on the above 
 subjects, the Foundling Hospital, the Marine and 
 Stepney Societies, the Encouragement of British 
 Troops, etc., occupied his leisure until 1760, when he 
 took in hand the social question of giving fees, or 
 vails, to servants, and wrote two pamphlets on the 
 subject. In one of them are some very humorous 
 stories of this absurd custom, one, especially, which 
 from its raciness has become somewhat hackneyed. 1 
 
 * It is a more humorous Story they tell of after 
 
 he had dined with . The Servants with assiduous 
 
 duty had taken the best care of his friend's Hat, 
 Sword, Cane, Cloak, and among the rest his Gloves also. 
 When he came to demand them, every Servant, with 
 the most submissive respect, brought his part of the 
 Old Gentleman's personal furniture, and so many 
 Shillings were distributed with his usual liberality ; 
 but, as he was going away without his Gloves, one of 
 the Servants reminded him of it, to which he an- 
 swered, " No matter, friend, you may keep the Gloves, 
 they are not worth a Shilling." * 
 
 Hanway tried to do away with this social tax, 
 which, however, remains to this day. But a very 
 good story is told of Robert Hamilton of Kilbrach- 
 mont. 2 ' After a party at Kellie Castle the guests 
 were passing through the Hall where the servants 
 
 1 'Eight Letters to his Grace — Duke of Newcastle — on the 
 custom of Vails-giving in England, &c.,' 1760, p. 20. 
 
 » » The East Neuk of Fife,' by Rev. Walter Wood. Edinburgh, 
 1862, p. 208. 
 
274 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 were drawn up to receive their vails, in those days a 
 customary exaction at great houses. The gifts of 
 those who preceded " Robbie " (as the Laird was 
 commonly called) drew forth no expression of grati- 
 tude, not even a smile, but when his turn came for 
 performing the ceremony their features were at once 
 lighted up with something even approaching to a 
 laugh. 
 
 ' " What did you give the fellows, Robbie V 9 said 
 his friends, when they got outside ; " they looked as 
 sour as vinegar till your turn came." 
 
 ' " Deil a bawbee they got frae me," said Robbie, 
 < I just kittled their loof." * 
 
 This system of feeing servants received a crushing 
 blow on the production (in 1759) of the Rev. James 
 Townley's farce of ' High Life below Stairs/ which 
 probably led to Hanway's writing his two pamphlets 
 on the subject. 
 
 He used occasionally to go to Court — but never 
 solicited any place for himself ; still it was thought 
 that his philanthropic exertions should be rewarded, 
 more especially as he had by no means a large for- 
 tune. So a deputation of five prominent citizens of 
 London, amongst whom was Hoare the banker, wait- 
 ed on Lord Bute (who was then Prime Minister), and 
 asked that some substantial recognition of his ser- 
 vices should made. Their representations had weight, 
 and, in July, 1762, he was appointed one of the com- 
 missioners for victualling the Navy. 
 
 He was now in easy circumstances, and his official 
 
 duties could not have been very heavy, for in that 
 
 year he wrote four pamphlets on ' Meditations on Life, 
 
 &c.,' < Registration of the Parish Poor, and Ventila- 
 
 1 Tickled the palms of their hands. 
 
JONAS HANWAY. 275 
 
 tion,' his pet Magdalens, and a 'Disquisition on Peace 
 and War:' themes so diverse that they show the 
 variety of subjects that occupied his serious attention. 
 In fact, be scribbled on an infinity of things — all 
 having for their aim the benefit of mankind. He 
 had a financial scheme ' for saving from Seventy 
 Thousand Pounds to One Hundred and Fifty Thousand 
 Pounds to the Public ;' he wrote on the ' Uses and 
 Advantages of Music ;' the f Case of the Canadians at 
 Montreal;' 'The Soldier's Faithful Friend, being 
 Moral and Religious Advice to private Men in the 
 Army and Militia ;' the ' Registration of the Children 
 of the Poor ;' another pamphlet on the rising genera- 
 tion of the labouring poor ; and, not content with 
 addressing the private soldier, he must needs write 
 * The Christian Officer, addressed to the Officers of 
 his Majesty's forces, &c.' 
 
 About this time he was evidently most goody-goody. 
 He wrote ' Moral and Religious Instruction to young 
 Persons,' * Moral and Religious Instructions, intended 
 for Apprentices among the lower Classes of the 
 People ;' ■ Letters to the Guardians of the Infant 
 Poor ;' ' Rules and Regulations of the Magdalene 
 Hospital, with Prayers, &c. ;' * Advice to a Daughter, 
 on her going to Service, &c. ;' ■ Advice from a Farmer 
 to his Daughter ;' ' Observations on the Causes of the 
 Dissoluteness which reigns among the lower Classes 
 of the People.' 
 
 He could not even leave to Mrs. Elizabeth Monta- 
 gue of the 'Blue-Stocking Club' notoriety, her 
 championship and patronage of the poor little climb- 
 ing boys— and he fired off a pamphlet on ' The State 
 of Chimney-Sweepers' young Apprentices, &c.' These 
 poor little friendless mortals excited his pity, and his 
 
 T2 
 
276 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 first efforts in their behalf were to get them regularly 
 bound apprentices, so as to bring them under the 
 cognizance of the magistracy; he advocated and 
 inaugurated a subscription to defray the expense, and 
 supply them with clothes. And this movement was 
 attended with considerable success, for many boys 
 were bound apprentices, and some of the masters 
 were prosecuted for cruelty to their boys. 
 
 Then, to show the diversity of his talents, he 
 wrote two pamphlets on bread, and a book in two 
 volumes on ' Virtue in humble life, &c.' In 1775 he 
 published a large quarto volume on ' The Defects of 
 Police, the Causes of Immorality, &c.,' and in the 
 copy which I have before me, is written, ' To THE 
 KING, with the Author s most humble Duty.' In this 
 book, among other things, he advocated solitary, or 
 rather isolated confinement — permitting the prisoners 
 to work, and giving them an increased dietary ac- 
 cording to their labour, This was followed in 1776 
 by a pamphlet on ' Solitude in Imprisonment, with 
 proper labour, &c.' 
 
 He was now sixty-four years of age, but he was 
 as bodily active as he was mentally, and in 
 February, 1776, he had to go over to Hamburg in 
 connection with his duties as one of the commis- 
 sioners of the Victualling Board. In 1777, 1778, and 
 1782, he wrote three books on the Lord's Supper — 
 and from that time he wrote, until he died in 1786, on 
 all sorts of subjects, religious, social, and political, a 
 list of which would only be wearisome. In the 
 summer of 1786 his health gave way, and he was 
 evidently sinking, but he lingered until the 5th of 
 September, when he calmly passed away — perfectly 
 prepared for the great change, putting on a fine 
 
JONAS HAN WAY. 277 
 
 ruffled shirt, giving up his keys, disposing of some 
 trinkets, and having his will read to him. Death 
 came easily to him, and he expired with the word 
 * Christ ' upon his lips. 
 
 Such was the life, and such was the death, of 
 Jonas Han way, whose biography is not half well 
 enough known. 
 
278 
 
 A HOLY VOYAGE TO RAMSGATE A 
 HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 HIS little story, which I very much con- 
 dense, is most amusing, and is the work 
 of * Henry Blaine, Minister of the Gos- 
 pel at Tring, Herts.' I only give it as 
 showing the dread with which any 
 country-bred man, at that time, put his precious body 
 at the mercy of Father Neptune. Steam has changed 
 all our habits, but then there were no * Globe Trot- 
 ters/ — few, if any, climbed the Alps for amusement ; 
 the Dolomites were unknown ; people had no steam- 
 yachts and went in pursuit of perpetual summer ; a 
 cruise to the Pacific Islands and Japan was never 
 dreamt of; there was no Mudie's library to scatter 
 broadcast holiday tours, for they never existed — so 
 that we must look upon this relation of an inland- 
 bred ' Minister of the Gospel ' (whose long and ex- 
 tremely pious, but wearisome, exordia I omit) with 
 very different eyes, to a similar one published in the 
 present day. 
 
 It is a tract of fifty-four pages, and commences, 
 'In hopes of recovering that invaluable blessing, 
 health, on Friday, August 10, 1787, I embarked 
 on board the ship Friends bound for Ramsgate, in 
 Kent. I had heard there was such a place ; and 
 
A HOLY VOYAGE TO RAMSGATE. 279 
 
 many had raised my expectations by their reports of 
 the efficacy of sea-bathing ; and others encouraged 
 my hopes by repeating their own experience of benefit 
 received. By these means I was induced to determine 
 on this little voyage. It reminded me of the never- 
 to-be-forgotten season, when, urged by some motives, 
 and impelled by a power unseen, but not unfelt, I 
 entered on board that stately vessel which the Lord's 
 prophet saw in a storm. Isaiah 54. — 11/ 
 
 This is a sample of the tract. He then goes on to 
 say : ' While we waited for the time of sailing 
 (for different purposes, I suppose), many came on 
 board, and appeared, to me at least, as if they 
 intended to embark with us : but they left not the 
 harbour, but, urged by other occasions and induce- 
 ments, they took leave of their friends and departed ; 
 while we, who were bound for a distant place, kept 
 steady to our purpose, turned our backs upon home 
 and waited patiently for the gentle breeze and driving 
 tide to convey us to the desired port.' 
 
 We can well imagine the good man, when he got 
 back to Tring, giving, for a long time, his soul-har- 
 rowing experiences of that memorable voyage. He 
 should have lived in our days and have been ' Our 
 Special Correspondent ' on whom the editor of the 
 newspaper relies to fill so many columns — for every 
 detail is taken, evidently note-book in hand. Witness 
 this : ' When our sails were displayed, and our cable 
 unloosed, assisted by a gentle gale, we began by 
 degrees to view the lofty towers, the aspiring 
 churches, and all the grandeurs of London at a dis- 
 tance behind us : in hopes of finding something we 
 could not find in town, we turned our attention from 
 the pleasures, and riches, and pomps of London ; we 
 
280 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 bid farewel, for a time, to our dearest friends ; we 
 laid aside our daily and domestic cares, and cheer- 
 fully forsook the dear delights of home.' 
 
 At length they were fairly started on their voyage, 
 which from the crowded state of the river, and the 
 excessive timidity of the writer, must have been 
 vastly perilous. * Our vessel, though it set sail with 
 a fair wind, and gently fell down the river towards 
 her destined port, yet once or twice was nearly strik- 
 ing against other vessels in the river, to her own 
 injury ; but, by the care of the steersman and sailors, 
 
 she was timely prevented There was no 
 
 spectacle more affecting, in all the little voyage, than 
 the bodies of those unhappy malefactors which were 
 hung up, in terrorem, on the margin of the river 
 Thames. Surely these was some of the execrable 
 characters whom Justice pursued, who, though " they 
 escaped the sea, yet vengeance suffered not to live. 
 
 Acts 28. — 4." Having passed these spectacles 
 
 of horror, a fair wind and flowing tide smoothly car- 
 ried us towards the boundless ocean 
 
 < When we drew towards the conflux of the river 
 Thames there were two objects that attracted our 
 notice : the one, the King's guardship, placed there 
 for the purposes of good oecouomy, the other a large 
 painted vessel which floated on the surface of the 
 water, and is called a buoy. While we were pass- 
 ing the king's ship, I heard the report of a cannon, 
 and saw the flash of the charge at some distance ; 
 and, on inquiring the reason of such a circumstance, 
 was informed it was customary for every ship which 
 passed, by way of obedience, to lower her topsail ; 
 but the firing of the gun made them hasten to show 
 their obedience, for fear of a more unfavourable 
 
A HOLY VOYAGE TO RAMSGATE. 281 
 
 salute ; for, though a flash of powder might give us 
 some alarm, the discharge of a ball might make us 
 feel the effects of disobedience .... Hitherto the 
 generality of our company appeared to carry jollity 
 and mirth in their countenances ; but now we began 
 to see the blushing rose die in the sickly cheek, 
 and several of our passengers began to feel the sick- 
 ening effects of the rolling sea ; they withdrew from 
 their mirth, and in pleasure crept into a corner, and 
 silently mourned their lost pleasures in solitude .... 
 Thrice happy the souls who are by divine grace 
 made sick of unsatisfying delights, and compelled to 
 withdraw from unsatisfying objects, and seek and find 
 permanent bliss in the friendship of Immanuel ! 
 
 * There had been the appearance of affability and 
 good-humour kept up among the passengers of our 
 vessel, and a reciprocal exchange of civilities had 
 passed between them ; our bad tempers were for 
 awhile laid aside, and we seemed mutually agreed to 
 make each other as innocently happy as our present. 
 If the same mode of conduct was observed through 
 the whole of our department, how would the ills of 
 life be softened, and the ties of society sweet- 
 ened ! 
 
 * The eyelid of the day was now nearly closed 
 upon us, and the gloom of darkness began to sur- 
 round us, which, together with the hollow bellowing 
 of the wind, and dashing waves, had a tendency to 
 create very solemn ideas in the mind ; and I, being a 
 stranger to such scenes, had my mind exercised upon 
 things of greater importance .... 
 
 6 About ten o'clock on Friday night we were 
 brought safely into the harbour of Margate, and then 
 cast anchor in order to set a great number of our 
 
282 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 passengers on shore, who were bound for that p]ace 
 of rendezvous. How great are the advantages of 
 navigation I By the skill and care of three men and 
 a boy, a number of persons were in safety conveyed 
 from one part to another of the kingdom 
 
 ' When we had safely landed our passengers at 
 Margate, we weighed anchor at eleven o'clock at 
 night, in order to sail round the North Foreland for 
 Eamsgate. The North Foreland is a point of land 
 which stretches out some way into the sea, and is the 
 extreme part of our country on the right hand, when 
 we sail down the river Thames ; and sailing round 
 the point into the British Channel is esteemed by 
 sailors rather dangerous. However, there was dan- 
 ger enough to awaken the apprehensions of a fresh- 
 water sailor. Yet here with some degree of confi- 
 dence in Him who exercises His power over the sea and 
 dry land, I laid me down and slept in quietness, while 
 the rattling waves drove against the sides of our 
 vessel, and the rustling winds shook our sails, and 
 made our yielding masts to speak. I was led to 
 reflect that now there was but a feeble plank between 
 me and the bottomless deep, yet, by a reliance on the 
 divine goodness, my fears were hushed, and a divine 
 calm prevailed within. " Thou will keep him in per- 
 fect peace whose mind is staid on thee." Isaiah 26. — 3. 
 
 6 On Saturday morning I awoke and heard a peace- 
 ful sound from shore, which informed me it was two 
 o'clock : and, inquiring where we were, I found we 
 were safe anchored within the commodious harbour 
 of Ramsgate. Being so early an hour, we again 
 composed ourselves to sleep, and lay till five o'clock ; 
 then leaving our sleeping apartment, and mounting 
 the peaceful deck — not like the frighted sailor, who 
 
A HOLY VOYAGE TO RAMSGATE. 283 
 
 leaves the horrid hulk to view a thousand deaths from 
 winds, and waves, and rocks, without a friendly 
 shore in view — but to see one of the finest retreats 
 from all these dangers, which Providence has pro- 
 vided for the safety of those who are exposed to the 
 violence and rage of angry elements. The commo- 
 dious Pier of Ramsgate seems admirably calculated 
 to shelter and protect vessels which are threatened 
 with destruction from winds and waves. This beau- 
 tiful piece of architecture is built in the form of a 
 Crescent, or half-moon, the points of which join to 
 the land .... The whole of this building of utility 
 appeared to bear a clear resemblance to the glorious 
 Mediator in his offices, who is appointed for a refuge 
 from the storm .... 
 
 ' By six in the morning we went on shore, and joy- 
 fully met our friends, who were brought down the 
 day before ; but in their passage were overtaken by 
 a violent storm of thunder and lightning, whilst our 
 voyage was smooth and prosperous; but, in the 
 morning, we all met in peace and safety. Thus we 
 sat down to a friendly breakfast, and cheerfully talk- 
 ed over the adventures of the little voyage. Some- 
 thing like this, I think, may take place in the state of 
 
 blessedness While we were thus employed,. 
 
 we consulted how to dispose of ourselves while we 
 continued at Ramsgate ; we mutually agreed to form 
 ourselves into a little family, and though we could 
 not all lodge, yet we wished to board together in the 
 same house/ This is a pleasing instance of bonne 
 camaraderie engendered, in a short time, among agree- 
 able companions. 
 
 ' In order to pursue the design of our coming, some 
 of our company mixed among the bathers at the sea- 
 
28-1 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS, 
 
 side. The convenience of bathing, the coolness of a 
 fine summer's morning, the agreeable appearance of 
 company so early, and the novelty of the scene, had 
 
 a very pleasing effect We began to look 
 
 around us ; and though we were not presented with 
 objects of taste and elegance, yet the town and 
 environs afforded us some rural prospects, which 
 yielded both instruction and pleasure. Upon our left 
 hand, as we ascended from the sea-side, stands the 
 seat of observation, erected on a point of land, and 
 commanding an extensive prospect over that part of 
 the sea called the Downs, where you behold a num- 
 ber of ships lying at anchor, or on their passage to 
 different parts of the world. From thence you may 
 likewise see the lofty cliffs of France, and reverberat- 
 ing the light of the sun ; while, at the same time, you 
 ma y» by way of amusement, watch the motions of 
 every boat coming in and going out of the harbour ; 
 and, as the sea is always varying, its appearance alto- 
 gether affords an agreeable amusement. Here the 
 Company frequently stop to rest themselves after a 
 morning's or an evening's walk, and are sweetly 
 regaled by the cool refreshing breezes of the sea . . . 
 'It might be thought strange was I to say no- 
 thing of Margate, that being the chief resort for 
 bathers, and of growing repute. The town of Mar- 
 gate is in a very increasing state, and its principal 
 ornaments consist of its late additions. The chief 
 concern of the publick seems to render it as much a 
 place for pleasure as utility, as, under colour of utility, 
 persons can pursue pleasure without censure. A 
 mother, for instance, might be highly blamed by her 
 acquaintance for leaving her family for a month, and 
 going to spend her husband's money ; but who can 
 
A HOLY VOYAGE TO RAMSGATE. 285 
 
 blame her when her health requires it? They are 
 modelling it according to the taste of the times. 
 They have, indeed, built one place of worship, but a 
 playhouse nearly four times as large. Thus, when 
 ill- health does not interrupt the company's pursuit of 
 amusement, they are likely soon to be accommodated 
 to their minds. Such is the provision already made, 
 that the consumptive cough of a delicate lady may 
 be furnished with the relief of the fumes of a smok- 
 ing hot assembly-room, and the embarrassed citizen 
 may drown his anxiety in the amusements of the 
 Card-table 
 
 'The libraries are decently furnished, and may 
 serve as a kind of lounging Exchange, where per- 
 sons overburdened with money and time may ease 
 themselves with great facility. The most healthful 
 amusement, and best suited to invalids, that is pur- 
 sued at Margate, is that of the bowling-green, where, 
 upon the top of a hill, and in full prospect of the sea, 
 in a free open air, gentlemen may exercise their 
 bodies, and unbend their minds ; this, if pursued for 
 the benefit of health and innocent recreation, with a 
 serious friend, appears to have no more criminality in 
 it than Peter's going a fishing 
 
 1 Having staid as long at Kamsgate as our affairs at 
 home would, with prudence, admit ; we went on 
 board the same ship, and re-embarked for London. 
 In order, I suppose, to take the better advantage, we 
 sailed some leagues right out to sea ; but, it being a 
 dead calm, we hardly experienced any other motion 
 than was occasioned by the tide and swell of the sea 
 for that night. The cry of the sailors, Blow ! Blow ! 
 reminded me of that pathetick exclamation of the 
 ancient Church ! The next day proved equally calm, 
 
286 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 so that we had little else to divert us but walk about 
 the deck, and watch the rolling of the porpoises in 
 the sea. We had an old sailor on board, whose pa- 
 tience being tired, declared he preferred being at 
 sea in a storm to being becalmed on the ocean, which 
 struck me with the propriety of the observation, when 
 applied to Christian experience ; for a storm, under 
 Divine direction, is often made the means of hasten- 
 ing the Christian's progress, while a dead calm is use- 
 less and unsafe.' 
 
 It took them two days to get to Margate, and an- 
 other day to reach Gravesend. On their way they 
 passed a vessel cast on shore, which * cut a dismal 
 figure, such as they make, to an enlightened eye, who 
 make shipwreck of faith, whom Christians see, as 
 they pursue their course, run aground, and dash to 
 pieces.' 
 
 By the time they came to Gravesend some of the 
 passengers had had enough of the Hoy — so they 
 hired a boat and four men to row them to London, 
 but the wind getting up, the river became rough, and 
 the boat being over-loaded, the boatmen begged 
 them to get on board a fishing-smack, which they 
 did, and arrived at Billingsgate safely. We can 
 hardly imagine, in these days of steam, that a jour- 
 ney from Ramsgate to London would last from Mon- 
 day morning to Wednesday night, but people did not 
 hurry themselves too much in those days. 
 
287 
 
 QUACKS OF THE CENTURY. 
 
 N all ages there have been pretenders to 
 medical science, and it has been re- 
 served to the present century to elevate 
 the healing art into a real science, based 
 on proper physiological facts, aided by 
 the searching analyses of modern chemistry. The 
 old alchemists had died out, yet they had some 
 pretensions to learning, but the pharmacopoeia at 
 the commencement of the eighteenth century was in 
 a deplorable condition. Surgery, for rough pur- 
 poses, had existed since the earliest ages, because 
 accidents would happen, then as now; and, moreover, 
 there were wars, which necessitated the amputation 
 of limbs, etc., but medicine, except in the knowledge 
 of the virtue of herbs and simples, was in more than 
 a primitive state. Anyone who chose, could dub 
 himself Doctor, and, naturally, the privilege was 
 largely taken advantage of. 
 
 The name of quack, or quacksalver, does not 
 seem to have been much used before the seventeenth 
 century, and its derivation has not been distinctly 
 settled. In the * Antiq uities of Egypt,' etc., by William 
 Osburn, junior, London, 1847, p. i)4, he says : ■ The 
 idea of a physician is frequently represented by a 
 species of duck, the name of which is CHIN : the 
 
288 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Egyptian word for physician was also CHIN I.' But 
 neither Pierret,in his 'Vocabulaire Hieroglyphique,' nor 
 Bunsen, in * Egypt's Place in Universal History,' 
 endorse this statement. Still the Egyptian equivalent 
 for cackling, or the noise of a goose, was Ka ha, and 
 in Coptic Onoh, pronounced very much like quack. 
 
 The Germans also use the word Quacksalber, and 
 the Dutch Kwaksalver, a, term which Bilderdijk, in 
 his * Geslachtijst der Naamworden,' (derivation or gen- 
 der of men's names) says, ought more properly to be 
 Kwabsalver, from Kivab, a wen, and Salver, to anoint. 
 Be this as it may, the English word quack certainly 
 means an illegitimate medical practitioner, a pre- 
 tender to medical science, whose pretensions are not 
 warranted by his knowledge. 
 
 The seventeenth century was prolific in quacks — 
 a notable example being John Wilmot, Earl of 
 Kochester. Both Bishop Burnet and De Gramont 
 agree that, during one of his banishments from Court, 
 he lived in Tower Street (next door to the sign of 
 the ' Black Swan,' at a goldsmith's house), and there 
 practised as a quack doctor, as one Alexander Bendo, 
 newly arrived from Germany. There is a famous 
 mountebank speech of his extant, copies of which 
 exist not only in broad sheets, but in some of the 
 jest-books of the seventeenth century, which, genuine 
 or not, is very amusing. It is far too long to tran- 
 scribe here, but perhaps I may be pardoned if I give 
 a short extract. 
 
 • The knowledge of these secrets I gathered in my 
 travels abroad (where I have spent my time ever 
 since I was fifteen years old to this, my nine and 
 twentieth year) in France and Italy. Those that 
 have travelled in Italy will tell you what a miracle 
 
QUACKS OF THE CENTURY. 289 
 
 of art does there assist nature in the preservation of 
 beauty: how women of forty bear the same coun- 
 tenance with them of fifteen: ages are no way 
 distinguished by faces ; whereas, here in England, 
 look a horse in the mouth and a woman in the face, 
 you presently know both their ages to a year. I 
 will, therefore, give you such remedies that, without 
 destroying your complexion (as most of your paints 
 and daubings do) shall render them perfectly fair ; 
 clearing and preserving them from all spots, freckles, 
 heats, pimples, and marks of the small-pox, or any 
 other accidental ones, so that the face be not seamed 
 or scarred. 
 
 1 1 will also cleanse and preserve your teeth white 
 and round as pearls, fastening them that are loose : 
 your gums shall be kept entire, as red as coral ; your 
 lips of the same colour, and soft as you could wish 
 your lawful kisses. 
 
 1 1 will likewise administer that which shall cure 
 the worst of breaths, provided the lungs be not 
 totally perished and imposthumated ; as also certain 
 and infallible remedies for those whose breaths are 
 yet untainted ; so that nothing but either a very 
 long sickness, or old age itself, shall ever be able to 
 spoil them. 
 
 1 1 will, besides, (if it be desired) take away from 
 their fatness who have over much, and add flesh to 
 those that want it, without the least detriment to 
 their constitutions.' 
 
 By his plausible manners and good address, he 
 soon gathered round him a large clientele of servants, 
 etc., for he told fortunes as well as cured diseases. 
 These told their mistresses, and they too came to 
 consult the wise man. Even the Court ladies came 
 
 U 
 
290 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 incognito to see him, and la belle Jennings, sister to 
 the famous Sarah, first Duchess of Marlborough, 
 went, with the beautiful Miss Price, to have their 
 fortunes told, disguised as orange-wenches, and in 
 all probability their visit would never have been 
 heard of, had they not met with a disagreeable ad- 
 venture with a somewhat dissolute gentleman named 
 Brounker, who was gentleman of the chamber to the 
 Duke of York, and brother to Viscount Brounker, 
 President of the Royal Society. 
 
 John Cotgrave 1 thus describes the quack of his 
 time : 
 
 * My name is Pulse-feel, a poor Doctor of Physick, 
 That does wear three pile Velvet in his Hat, 
 Has paid a quarter's Rent of his house before-hand, 
 And (simple as he stands here) was made Doctor beyond sea. 
 I vow, as I am Right worshipful, the taking 
 Of my Degree cost me twelve French Crowns, and 
 Thirty-five pounds of Butter in upper Germany. 
 I can make your beauty and preserve it, 
 Rectifie your body and maintaine it, 
 Clarifie your blood, surfle 2 your cheeks, perfume 
 Your skin, tinct your hair, enliven your eye, 
 Heighten your Appetite ; and, as for Jellies, 
 Dentifrizes, Dyets, Minerals, Fucusses, 8 
 Pomatums, Fumes, Italia Masks to sleep in, 
 Either to moisten or dry the superficies, Paugh, Galen 
 Was a Goose, and Paracelsus a patch 
 To Doctor Pulse-feel.' 
 
 Then there was that arch quack and empiric, Sir 
 
 1 ■ The English Treasury of Wit and Language,' etc., ed. 1655, 
 pp. 223, 224. 
 
 2 Or surfel — to wash the cheeks with mercurial or sulphur 
 water. 
 
 3 Face -washes and ointments. 
 
QUACKS OF THE CENTURY. 291 
 
 Kenelm Digby, with his • sympathetic powder,' etc., 
 and Dr. Saffold, originally a weaver, who distributed 
 his handbills broadcast, advertising his ability to 
 cure every disease under the sun. 
 
 Also in this century is a poem called ' The Dis- 
 pensary,' 1 by Sir Samuel Garth, who lived in Queen 
 Anne's time, which gives the following account of a 
 quack and his surroundings : 
 
 ' So truly Horoscope its Virtues knows, 
 To this bright Idol 2 'tis, alone, he bows ; 
 And fancies that a Thousand Pound supplies 
 The want of twenty Thousand Qualities. 
 Long has he been of that amphibious Fry, 
 Bold to prescribe, and busie to apply. 
 His Shop the gazing Vulgar's Eyes employs 
 With forreign Trinkets, and domestick Toys. 
 Here Mummies lay, most reverently stale, 
 And there, the Tortois hung her Coat o' Mail ; 
 Not far from some huge Shark's devouring Head, 
 The flying Fish their finny Pinions spread. 
 Aloft in rows large Poppy Heads were strung, 
 And near, a scaly Alligator hung. 
 In this place, Drugs in Musty heaps decay' d, 
 In that, dry'd Bladders, and drawn Teeth were laid. 
 An inner Room receives the numerous Shoals 
 Of such as pay to be reputed Fools. 
 Globes stand by Globes, Volumns on Volumns lie, 
 And Planitary Schemes amuse the eye 
 The Sage, in Velvet Chair, here lolls at ease, 
 To promise future Health for present Fees. 
 
 1 Edition 1699, p. 19. The poem had reference to the College 
 of Physicians, establishing a dispensary of their own, owing to the 
 excessive charges of the apothecaries. The institution did not last 
 very long. 
 
 2 Gold. 
 
 U2 
 
292 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Then, as from Tripod, solemn shams reveals, 
 And what the Stars know nothing of, reveals.' 
 
 Medicine in the last century was very crude. 
 Bleeding and purging were matters of course ; but 
 some of the remedies in the pharmacopoeia were very 
 eurions. Happy the patient who knew not the com- 
 position of his dose. Take the following i 1 
 
 ' Or sometimes a quarter of a pint of the following 
 decoction may be drank alone four times a day : 
 
 ' Take a fresh viper, freed from the head, skin, and 
 intestines, cut in pieces ; candied eryngo root, sliced, 
 two ounces. Boil them gently in three pints of 
 water, to a pint and three-quarters, and to the strain- 
 ed liquor add simple and spiritous cinnamon waters, of 
 each two ounces. Mix them together, to be taken 
 as above directed. 
 
 ' The following viper broth (taken from the 
 London Dispensatory) is a very nutritous and proper 
 restorative food in this case, and seems to be one of 
 the best preparations of the viper : for all the benefit 
 that can be expected from that animal is by this 
 means obtained : 
 
 * Take a middle-sized viper, freed from head, skin, 
 and intestines ; and two pints of water. Boil them 
 to a pint and a half ; then remove the vessel from the 
 fire ; and when the liquor is grown cold, let the fat, 
 which congeals upon the surface, if the viper was 
 fresh, be taken off. Into this broth, whilst warm, put 
 a pullet of a moderate size, drawn and freed from the 
 skin, and all the fat, but with the flesh intire. Set the 
 vessel on the fire again, that the liquor may boil ; 
 
 1 ' The Female Physician, &c.,' by John Ball, M.D. — London, 
 1770, pp. 76, 77. 
 
QUACKS OF THE CENTURY. 293 
 
 then remove it from the fire, take out the chicken, 
 and immediately chop its flesh into little pieces : put 
 these into the liquor again, set it over the fire, and 
 as soon as it boils up, pour out the broth, first care- 
 fully taking off the scum. 
 
 ' Of this broth let the patient take half a pint every 
 morning, at two of the clock in the afternoon, and at 
 supper-time/ 
 
 In the same book, also (p. 97), we find the follow- 
 ing remedy for cancer : 
 
 1 Dr. Heister, professor of physic and surgery in 
 the university of Ilelmstadt in Germany, with many 
 others, greatly extols the virtue of millepedes, or 
 wood-lice, in this case ; and, perhaps, the best way of 
 administering them is as follows : 
 
 1 Take of live wood-lice, one ounce ; fine sugar, two 
 drams ; a little powder of nutmeg ; and half a pint of 
 alexeterial water. Let the wood-lice and sugar, with 
 the nutmeg, be ground together in a marble mortar, 
 then gradually add the water, which being well 
 mixed, strain it with hard pressing. Two ounces of 
 this expression are to be taken twice a day, shaking 
 the vessel, so that no part of it may be lost/ 
 
 And it also seems that much virtue was attached 
 to the great number of component parts in a medicine, 
 as may be seen in the recipe for Arquebusade Water l 
 (from the same book, p. 101). 
 
 1 Take of comfrey leaves and root, sage, mugwort, 
 bugloss, each four handfulls ; betony, sanicle, ox-eye 
 daisy, common daisy, greater figwort, plantane, 
 agrimony, vervain, wormwood, fennel, each two 
 
 1 This water, as its name implies, was supposed to be a sove- 
 reign remedy for gunshot wounds. It was also called aqua 
 vulneraria, aqua sclopetaria, and aqua catapultarum. 
 
291 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 handfulls; St. John's wort, long birthwort, orpine, 
 veronica, lesser centaury, milfoil, tobacco, mouse-ear, 
 mint, hyssop, each one handfull ; wine twenty-four 
 pounds. Having cut and bruised the herbs, pour on 
 them the wine, and let them stand together, in 
 digestion, in horse dung, or any other equivalent heat, 
 for three days : afterwards distill in an alembic with 
 a moderate fire. 
 
 ' This celebrated water has for some time been held 
 in great esteem, in contusions, for resolving coagulat- 
 ed blood, discussing the tumors that arise on fractures 
 and dislocations, for preventing the progress of gan- 
 grenes, and cleansing and healing ulcers and wounds, 
 particularly gunshot wounds . . . .' 
 
 Amongst the empyrical medicines, the following is 
 much cried up by many people, as an infallible remedy : 
 ' Take two ounces of the worts that grow dangling 
 to the hinder heels of a stone horse, 1 wash them in 
 common water, then infuse them in white wine all 
 night, and afterwards let them be dried, and reduced 
 to powder. The dose is half a dram twice a day, in 
 any proper vehicle. A dram of Venice soap given 
 twice a day, either in pills, or dissolved in some 
 proper liquor, is likewise said to cure a Cancer.' 
 
 In the early part of the eighteenth century, the 
 regular physicians were very ignorant. Ward 2 thus 
 describes them, and, although his language was 
 coarse, he was a keen observer. 
 
 * They rail mightily in their Writings against the 
 ignorance of Quacks and Mountebanks, yet, for the 
 sake of Lucre, they Licence all the Cozening Pre- 
 tenders about Town, or they could not Practise ; 
 
 1 Now called an entire horse, or stallion. 
 2 ' The London Spy,' ed. 1703, p. 124. 
 
QUACKS OF THE CENTURY. 295 
 
 which shows it is by their Toleration that the People 
 are Cheated out of their Lives and Money ; and yet 
 they think themselves so Honest, as to be no ways 
 answerable for this Publick Injury ; as if they could 
 not kill People fast enough themselves, but must de- 
 pute all the Knaves in the Town to be Death's Jour- 
 neymen. Thus do they License what they ought 
 carefully to Suppress ; and Practise themselves what 
 they Blame and Condemn in others ; And that the 
 Town may not be deceived by Apothecaries, they 
 have made themselves Medicine-Mongers^- under a 
 pretence of serving the Publick with more faithful 
 preparations ; in order to perswade the World to a 
 belief of which, they have publish'd Bills, where, in 
 the true Quack's Dialect, they tell you the Poor shall 
 be supply' d for nothing ; but whoever is so Needy as 
 to make a Challenge of their promise empty-handed, 
 will find, according to the Mountebank's saying, No 
 Money, No Cure. The disposal of their Medicines 
 they leave to a Boy's management, who scarce knows 
 Mercurius Dulcis from White Sugar, or Mint Water 
 from Aqua Fortis : So that People are likely to be 
 well serv'd, or Prescriptions truly observed by such 
 an Agent.' 
 
 If this was a faithful portrait of a physician in the 
 commencement of the century, what must a charla- 
 tan have been % They sowed their hand-bills broad- 
 cast. Gay, in his ' Trivia,' book ii., says, 
 
 1 If the pale Walker pants with weak'ning Ills, 
 His sickly Hand is stor'd with Friendly Bills : 
 
 1 An allusion to the dispensary which the College of Physicians 
 set up in the latter part of the seventeeth century, and which was 
 the subject of Sir S. Garth's satirical poem, called ' The Dis- 
 pensary.' 
 
296 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 From hence he learns the seventh borm Doctor's Fame, 
 From hence he learns the cheapest Tailor's name.' 
 
 So universal was this practice of advertising that, 
 to quote Ward 2 once more, when talking of the 
 Royal Exchange, he says, 
 
 ' The Wainscote was adorn'd with Quacks' Bills, 
 instead of Pictures ; never an Emperick in the Town, 
 but had his Name in a Lacquered Frame, containing 
 a fair Invitation for a Fool and his Money to be soon 
 parted.' 
 
 The newspapers teemed with quack advertisements. 
 These, of course, we have; but we also have pre- 
 served to us a quantity of the ephemeral hand-bills, 
 which, presumably, were kept on account of the 
 intrinsic merits they possessed. They are a curious 
 study. There was the * Oxford Doctor at the Fleet 
 Prison, near Fleet Bridge, London/ who would sell 
 ten pills in a box for sixpence, warranted a cure for 
 the ' Scurvy, Dropsie, and Colt-evil,' would provide a 
 remedy for ' Headach, Sore Eyes, Toothach, Stomach- 
 acli s Bleeding, Scorbutick Gums, Black, Yellow, foul 
 Teeth, Cramp, Worms, Itch, Kibes, and Chilblains ; the 
 Price of each proper Specifick, Twopence. Teeth or 
 stumps of Teeth, Drawn with Ease and Safety, Let 
 Blood neatly, Issues or Setons Curiously made ; For 
 Two Pence each, and welcome. By the Doctor that 
 puts forth this paper, you may be Taught Writing, 
 Arithmetick, Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, at reasonable 
 Rates by the great, Or Two Pence each of them by the 
 Week' Presumably, as he does not advertise it, he 
 
 1 A seventh son of a seventh son is supposed to be endowed with 
 extraordinary faculties of healing, and many of these quacks pre- 
 tended to such a descent. 
 
 2 ■ The London Spy,' ed. 1703, p. 64. 
 
QUACKS OF THE CENTURY. 297 
 
 could not teach manners at the same traditional price. 
 
 There was another who sold the Elixir Stomachum 
 which was sold at the various coffee-houses about 
 town, and he complains thus : * ®* Garrowaye, the 
 Apple-man at the Exchange, who had it of me, to 
 sell, for five or six years, I have lately found out, is 
 Counterfeiting it, and have removed mine from him ; 
 and what he now sells is a Counterfeit sort, and not 
 the Right, as was formerly Sold there.' 
 
 There was a man, living in Blackfriars, who was 
 so modest that he veiled his identity under the 
 initials R.C., who, from two in the afternoon till 
 night, 'will give to all People a Secret how they 
 may utterly destroy Buggs without injury to their 
 Goods, at reasonable rates ; do as you are Taught, 
 and if any be doubtful of the truth of it, they may 
 have full satisfaction of them that have Experienced it/ 
 
 Here is a gentleman who gives a minute address. 
 1 In Petty France, Westminster, at a house with a black 
 dore, and a Red Knocker, between the Sign of the 
 Hose and Crown and Jacob's Well, is a German who 
 hath a Powder which, with the blessing of God upon 
 
 it, certainly cures the Stone, &c If any person 
 
 of known Integrity will affirm that upon following their 
 directions the cure is not perfected, they shall have 
 their Money returned. Therefore be not unwilling 
 to come for help, but suspend your Judgment till you 
 have try'd, and then speak as you find.' 
 
 There is another, which may belong to the previous 
 century — but it is so hard to tell, either by means of 
 type or wood blocks — put forth by ' Salvator Winter, 
 an Italian of the City of Naples, Aged 98 years, Yet, 
 by the Blessing of God, finds himself in health, and 
 as strong as anyone of Fifty, as to the Sensitive 
 
298 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 part ; Which first he attributes to God, and then to 
 his Elixir Vitce, which he always carries in his pocket 
 adayes, and at Night under his pillow ; And when he 
 finds himself distemper'd, he taketh a Spoonful or 
 two, according as need requireth.' It is needless to 
 say that the Elixir was warranted to cure every evil 
 under the sun, including such diverse maladies as 
 catarrhs, sore eyes, hardness of hearing, toothache, 
 sore throat, consumption, obstructions in the stomach, 
 and worms. The net was arranged to catch every 
 kind of fish. In fact, his business was so profitable 
 that he had a successor, ' Salvator Winter, Junior, 1 who 
 says thus : ' My father, aged 98 years, yet enjoys 
 his perfect health, which, next to the blessing of God, 
 he attributes to the Elixir Vitce having alway a 
 bottle of it in his pocket, drinking a spoonful there- 
 of four or five times a day ; snuffing it very strongly 
 up his Nostrils, and bathing his Temples; thus by 
 prevention, he fortifies his vital Spirits.' 
 
 Nor did the sterner sex monopolise the profession 
 of quackdom, for 'At the Blew-Ball in Grays-Inn 
 Lane, near Holhorn Barrs, next Door to a Tallow- 
 Chandler, where you may see my Name upon a Board 
 over the Door, liveth Elizabeth Maris, the True German 
 Gentlewoman lately arrived/ It seems that we were 
 much indebted to Germany for our quacks, for * At 
 the Boot and Spatter dash, 1 next Door but One to the 
 Vine Tavern, in Long- Acre, near JDrury Lane, Liveth 
 a German D r - and Surgeon, Who by the blessing of 
 GOD on his great Pains, Travels and Experience, 
 hath had wonderful Success in the Cure of the Dis- 
 eases following,' &c. There was also ' Cornelius a 
 Tilbourg, Sworn Chirurgeon in Ordinary to K. Charles 
 
 1 A covering, or gaiter, to protect the legs from dirt or wet. 
 
QUACKS OF THE CENTURY. 29£ 
 
 the II., to our late Sovereign K. William, as also to 
 Her present Majesty Qneen Ann.' 
 
 A certain John Choke, whose motto was ■ Nothing 
 WITHOUT God,' and was ' an approved Physician ; and 
 farther, Priviledged by his Majesty,' advertised ' an 
 Arcane which I had in Germany, from the Famous 
 and most Learned Baptista Van Helmont, of worthy 
 Memory (whose Daughter I Wedded), and whose 
 Proescripts most Physicians follow.' 
 
 Curative and magical powers seem to have ex- 
 tended from seventh sons of seventh sons to women 
 — for I find an advertisement, ' At the Sign of the 
 Blew-Ball, at the upper end of Labour in vain-Street, 
 next Shadiv ell- New-Market, Liveth a Seventh Daugh- 
 ter, who learn'd her Skill by one of the ablest Physi- 
 cians in England (her uncle was one of K. Charles's 
 and K. James's twelve Doctors), who resolves all 
 manner of Questions, and interprets Dreams to admira- 
 tion, and hath never fail'd (with God's Blessing) what 
 she took in hand.' Also there was a book published 
 late in the seventeenth century, called ' The Woman's 
 Prophecy, or the Rare and Wonderful DOCTKESS, 
 foretelling a Thousand strange monstrous things that 
 shall come to pass before New Year's day next, or 
 afterwards — . She likewise undertakes to cure the 
 most desperate Diseases of the Female Sex, as the 
 Glim ring of the Gizzard, the Quavering of the Kidneys, 
 the Wambling Trot, &c.' A man who lived at the 
 1 Three Compasses ' in Maiden Lane, also issued a hand 
 bill that he would infallibly cure ' several strange 
 diseases, which (though as yet not known to the 
 world) he will plainly demonstrate to any Ingenious 
 Artist to be the greatest Causes of the most common 
 Distempers incident to the Body of Man. The Names 
 
300 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 of which take as follow : The Strong Fives, the Mar- 
 thambles, the Moon-Pall, the Hockogrocle.' 
 
 Then there was a medicine which was administer- 
 ed to children even in my young days, ' Daffy's 
 famous ELIXIR SALUTIS, prepared by Katharine Daffy. 
 The finest now exposed to Sale, prepar'd from the 
 best Druggs, according to Art, and the Original 
 Receipt, which my Father, Mr. Thomas Daffy, late 
 Rector of Redmile, in the Valley of Belvoir, having 
 experienc'd the Virtues of it, imparted to his Kins- 
 man, Mr. Anthony Daffy, who publish'd the same to 
 the Benefit of the Community, and his own great 
 Advantage. This very Original Receipt is now in 
 my possession, left to me by my father aforesaid, 
 under his own Hand. My own Brother, Mr. Daniel 
 Daffy, formerly Apothecary in Nottingham, made this 
 ELIXIR from the same Receipt, and Sold it there 
 during his Life. Those, who know me, will believe 
 what I Declare ; and those who do not, may be con- 
 vinc'd that I am no Countefeit, by the Colour, Tast, 
 Smell, and just Operation of my Elixir.' This was, 
 however, disputed by one John Harrison — and the 
 rivals of nearly two centuries ago, remind us forcibly 
 of the claimants to the original recipe of Bond's 
 Marking Ink. 
 
 A man sold a useful medicine. 'A most ex- 
 cellent Eye Water, which cures in a very short time 
 all Distempers relating to the Eyes, from whatever 
 Cause soever they proceed, even tho' they have been 
 of seven, eight, nine, or ten Years' continuance .... 
 This excellent Water effectually takes away all 
 Rebies or Pimples in the face, or any Part of the 
 Body; it also dissolves any small, or new-come Wens 
 
QUACKS OF THE CENTURY. 301 
 
 or Bunches under the Skin, so easily that it can 
 hardly be perceived/ 
 
 One quack blossomed forth in verse, and thus de- 
 scribes himself : ' In Cripplegate Parish, in Whitecross 
 Street, almost at the farther End, near Old Street (turn- 
 ing in by the sign of the Black Croe, in Goat Alley, 
 straightforward down three steps, at the sign of the Blew 
 Ball), liveth one of above Forty Years' Experience, who 
 with God's Blessing performeth these cures following : 
 
 i To all that please to come, he will and can 
 Cure most Diseases incident to Man. 
 The Leprosie, the Cholic, and the Spleen, 
 And most Diseases common to be seen. 
 Although not cured by Quack Doctors' proud, 
 And yet their Name doth ring and range aloud, 
 With Riches, and for Cures which others do, 
 Which they could not perform, and this is true. 
 This Doctor he performeth without doubt, "^ 
 The Ileak Passion, Scurvy, and the gout, \- 
 Even to those the Hospitals turn out.' J 
 
 Such ground as one did not cover, another did. 
 Take, for instance, the following : « In Surry- Street, in 
 the Strand, at the Corner House with a White-Balcony 
 and Blue-Flower pots, liveth a Gentlewoman, who 
 
 'Hath a most excellent Wash to beautifie the 
 Face, which cures all Redness, Flushings, or Pimples. 
 Takes off any Yellowness, Morpheu, Sunburn, or 
 Spots on the Skin, and takes away Wrinckles and 
 Driness, caused too often by Mercurial Poysonous 
 Washes, rendring the worst of Faces fair and tender, 
 and preserves 'em so. You may have from half a 
 Crown to five Pound a Bottle. You may also have 
 Night Masks, Forehead Pieces, incomparable white- 
 
302 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 pots, and Red Pomatum for the lips, which keeps 
 them all the Year plump and smooth, and of a deli- 
 cate natural colour. She has an admirable Paste to 
 smooth and whiten the Hands, with a very good 
 Tooth powder, which cleanses and whitens the 
 Teeth. And a Water to wash the Mouth, which 
 prevents the Scurvy in the Gums and cures where 
 'tis already come. 
 
 'You may have a Plaster and Water which takes 
 off Hair from any part of the Body, so that it shall 
 never come again. She has also a most excellent 
 Secret to prevent the Hair from falling, causing it to 
 grow where it is wanting in any part of the Head. 
 She also shapes the Eye-brows, making them per- 
 fectly beautiful, without any pain, and raises low 
 Foreheads as high as you please. And colours Grey 
 or Red Hair to a lovely Brown, which never decays, 
 changes, or smoots the Linnen. She has excellent 
 Cosmeticks to anoint the Face after the Small Po.v, 
 which wears out any Scars, Marks, or Redness ; and 
 has great skill in all manner of sore Eyes. 
 
 6 She has a most excellent Dyet Drink which cures 
 the worst of Consumptions, or any Impurity of the 
 Blood: And an Antiscorbutick spirit, which, being 
 taken one spoonful in the Morning, and another at 
 Night, with moderate Exercise, cures the Scurvy, tho' 
 never so far gone, and all broke out in Blotches : 
 with many other Secrets in Physick, which you may 
 be satisfied in when you speak with her . . . She 
 has an approved Remedy for Barrenness in Women.' 
 
 Very late in the preceding century (he died May 
 12, 1691), there was a most famous quack, Dr. Thomas 
 .Saffold, one of whose handbills I give as a curiosity : 
 
QUACKS OF THE CENTURY. 303 
 
 * Dear Friends, let your Disease be what God will, 
 Pray to Him for a Cure — try Sajf old's Skill, 
 Who may be such a healing Instrument 
 As will Cure you to your own Heart's Content. 
 His Medicines are Cheap, and truly Good, 
 Being full as safe as your daily Food. 
 Saffold he can do what may be done, by 
 Either Physick or true Astrology : 
 His Best Pills, Rare Elixirs, and Powder, 
 Do each Day Praise him Lowder and Lowder. 
 Dear Country-men, I pray be you so Wise, \ 
 
 When Men Back-bite him, believe not their Lyes, V 
 But go see him and believe your own Eyes ; ) 
 
 Then he will say you are Honest and Kind, 
 Try before you Judge, and Speak as you Find. 
 'By Thomas Safold, sua. Approved and Licensed 
 Physician and Student in Astrology, who (through 
 God's Mercy), to do good, still liveth at the Black 
 Ball and Old Lilly s Head, next Door to the Feather- 
 Shops that are within Black-fryers Gate- way, which 
 is over against Ludgate Church, just by Ludgate in 
 London. Of him the Poor, Sore, Sick, and Lame may 
 have Advice for nothing, and proper Medicines for 
 every particular Distemper, at reasonable Bates ready 
 prepared, with plain Directions how to use them, to 
 cure either Men, Women, or Children of any Disease 
 or Diseases afflicting any Body, whether inward or 
 outward, of what Name or Nature soever (if Curable) ; 
 Also of this you may be sure, he hath Medicines to 
 prevent as well as Cure. 
 
 6 Lastly, He doth with great certainty and privacy : 
 Resolve all manner of Lawful Questions, according 
 to the Rules of Christian Astrology, and more than 
 Twenty One Years' Experience.' 
 
304 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Talk of modern quacks — they are but second-rate 
 to Saffold ! His Pillulce Londinenses, or London pills, 
 were advertised that 'not only the meaner sort of 
 all Ages and each Sex, but people of Eminence, both 
 for their Rank in the World and their parts, have 
 found admirable success in taking these Pills.' 
 
 This panacea was warranted to cure 'Gout, Dropsy, 
 Coma, Lethargy, Caries, Apoplexy, Palsy, Convulsions, 
 Falling Sickness, Vertigo, Madness, Catarrhs, Head- 
 ache, Scald, and Sore Heads, sore Eyes, Deafness, 
 Toothache, sore Mouth, sore and swollen Throat, foul 
 Stomach, badDigestion,Vomiting,Painat the Stomach, 
 sour Belching, Colic, Twisting of the Guts, Looseness, 
 Worms, all Obstructions of the Pancreas, of the Mesa- 
 raic Veins, of the passages of the Chyle, and of the 
 Liver and Spleen, the Jaundice, Cachexy, Hypo- 
 chondriac Melancholy, Agues, Itch, Boils, Rheuma- 
 tism, Pains and Aches, Surfeits by Eating and Hard 
 Drinking, or by Heats and Colds (as some call 
 them)/ 
 
 Then there comes a charming bit of candour 
 almost sufficient to disarm the unwary : ! They are 
 also good in taking the Waters. 1 would not advise 
 them by any means in the Bloody Flux, nor in con- 
 tinual Fevers, but they are good to purge after 
 either of those Diseases is over, or to carry off the 
 Humor aforehand. They must also be foreborn by 
 Women with Child. Otherwise they are good for 
 any Constitution, and in any Clime. They are 
 Durable many years, and good at Sea as well as on 
 Land.' 
 
 Thomas Saffold knew well the value of advertising, 
 and scattered his very varied handbills broadcast. 
 Presumably, like modern quacks, he made money. 
 
QUACKS OF THE CENTURY. 305 
 
 Of course he died, and his epitaph is as follows (he 
 originally was a weaver) : 
 
 * Here lies the Corpse of Thomas Saffold, 
 By Death, in spite of Physick, baffled ; 
 Who, leaving off his working loom, 
 Did learned doctor soon become. 
 To poetry he made pretence, 
 Too plain to any man's own sense ; 
 But he when living thought it sin 
 To hide his talent in napkin ; 
 Now Death does Doctor (poet) crowd 
 Within the limits of a shroud.' 
 
 There was a harmless remedy advertised, even 
 though it was a fraud — and this was the loan, or sale, 
 of necklaces to be worn by children in teething. 
 
 THE FAMOUS AND VIRTUOUS NECKLACES. 
 
 1 One of them being of no greater weight than a 
 small Nutmeg, absolutely easing Children in Breeding 
 Teeth without Fain; thereby preventing Feavers, Rup- 
 tures, Convulsions, Rickets, and such attendant Dis- 
 tempers, to the Admiration of thousands of the City 
 of London, and Counties adjoining, who have ex- 
 perienced the same, to their great comfort and satis- 
 faction of the Parents of the Children who have used 
 them. Besides the Decrease in the Bills of Mortality, 
 apparent (within this Year and a half) of above one 
 half of what formerly Dyed ; and are now Exposed to 
 sale for the Publick good, at five shillings each Neck- 
 lace, &c.' 
 
 Then there was a far higher-priced necklace, but, 
 as it also operated on adults, it was perhaps stronger 
 and more efficacious. ' A necklace that cures all 
 sorts or fits in children, occasioned by Teeth or any 
 
 X 
 
306 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 other Cause ; as also Fits in Men and Women. To 
 be had at Mr. Larance's in Somerset Court, near North- 
 umberland House in the Strand ; price ten shillings 
 for eight days, though the cure will be performed 
 immediately.'' And there was the famous ' Anodyne 
 Necklace.' 
 
 In the preceding century there were some famous 
 quacks, notably Sir Kenelm Digby, who, with his 
 sympathetic powder, worked wonders, especially one 
 instance, an account of which he read to a learned 
 society at Montpellier. He recounted how a certain 
 learned gentleman, named Howell, found two of his 
 friends engaged in a duel with swords, how he rush- 
 ed to part them, and catching hold of one of their 
 blades, his hand was severely cut, the other antagon- 
 ist cutting him severely on the back of his hand. 
 Seeing the mischief they had done, they bound up 
 his hand with his garter, and took him home. Mr. 
 Howell was of such note that the King sent his own 
 physician to him, but without avail ; and there was 
 expectation that the hand would mortify and have to 
 be amputated. Here Sir Kenelm, who knew him, step- 
 ped in, and, being applied to by his friend to try his 
 remedies, consented. Let him tell his own tale. 
 
 6 1 asked him then for anything that had blood 
 upon it ; so he presently sent for his garter, where- 
 with his hand was first bound, and as I called for a 
 basin of water, as if I would wash my hands, I took 
 a handful of powder of vitriol, which I had in my 
 study, and presently dissolved it. As soon as the 
 bloody garter was brought me, I put it in the basin, 
 observing, in the interim, what Mr. Howell did, who 
 stood talking with a gentleman in a corner of my cham- 
 ber, not regarding at all what I was doing. He started 
 
QUACKS OF THE CENTURY. 307 
 
 suddenly, as if he had found some strange alteration 
 in himself. I asked him what he ailed. 
 
 '"I know not what ails me; but I feel no more 
 pain. Methinks that a pleasing kind of freshness, as 
 it were a wet cold napkin, did spread over my hand, 
 which hath taken away the inflammation that tor- 
 mented me before." 
 
 < I replied, " Since, then, you feel already so much 
 good of my medicament, I advise you to cast away 
 all your plasters ; only keep the wound clean, and in 
 a moderate temper, betwixt heat and cold." 
 
 * This was presently reported to the Duke of Buck- 
 ingham, and, a little after, to the King, who were 
 both very curious to know the circumstances of 
 the business ; which was, that after dinner, I took 
 the garter out of the water, and put it to dry 
 before a great fire. It was scarce dry before Mr. 
 Howell's servant came running, and saying that 
 his master felt as much burning as ever he had done, 
 if not more ; for the heat was such as if his hand 
 were betwixt coals of fire. I answered that although 
 that had happened at present, yet he should find ease 
 in a short time ; for I knew the reason of this new 
 accident, and would provide accordingly; for his 
 master should be free from that inflammation, it 
 might be, before he could possibly return to him; 
 but, in case he found no ease, I wished him to come 
 presently back again ; if not, he might forbear com- 
 ing. Thereupon he went ; and, at the instant, I did 
 put the garter again into the water ; thereupon he 
 found his master without any pain at all. To be 
 brief, there was no sense of pain afterwards; but 
 within five or six days the wounds were cicatrized, 
 and entirely healed.' 
 
 x2 
 
308 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Faith worked wonders, and a credulous imagina- 
 tion formed an excellent foundation for healing. Take 
 another instance in the same century — the case of 
 Valentine Greatraks (who cured by the imposition of 
 hands), who was nearly contemporary with Sir 
 Kenelm. It would serve no good purpose to go 
 minutely into his history: suffice it to say that he 
 was an Irishman of good family, and, as a young 
 man, served under Cromwell. After the disbandment 
 of the army he was made Clerk of the Peace for the 
 County of Cork, Registrar for Transplantation (ejec- 
 tion of Papists who would not go to church) and 
 Justice of the Peace, so that we see he occupied a 
 respectable position in society. 
 
 After Greatraks settled down in his civil capacity, 
 he seems to have been a blameless member of society; 
 but his religious convictions were extremely rabid, 
 and strong on the Protestant side. Writing in 1668, 
 he says: 'About four years since I had an Impulse, 
 or a strange perswasion, in my own mind (of which 
 I am not able to give any rational account to another) 
 which did very frequently suggest to me that there 
 was bestowed on me the gift of curing the King's 
 Evil : which, for the extraordinariness of it, I thought 
 fit to conceal for some time, but at length I com- 
 municated this to my Wife, and told her, That I did 
 verily believe that God had given me the blessing of 
 curing the King's Evil ; for, whether I were in private 
 or publick, sleeping or waking, still I had the same 
 Impulse ; but her reply was to me, That she con- 
 ceived this was a strange imagination : but, to prove 
 the contrary, a few daies after there was one William 
 Maker of Salterbridge, in the Parish of Lissrnore, that 
 brought his Son William Maker to my house, desiring 
 
QUACKS OF THE CENTURY. 309 
 
 my Wife to cure him, who was a person ready to 
 afford her Charity to her Neighbours, according to 
 her small skill in Chirurgery ; on which my Wife told 
 me there was one that had the King's Evil very 
 grievously in the Eyes, Cheek, and Throat ; where- 
 upon I told her that she should now see whether 
 this were a bare fancy, or imagination, as she thought 
 it, or the Dictates of God's Spirit on my heart ; and 
 thereupon I laid my hands on the places affected, 
 and prayed to God for Jesus' sake to heal him, and 
 then I bid the Parent two or three days afterwards 
 to bring the Child to me again, which accordingly he 
 did, and then I saw the Eye was almost quite whole, 
 and the Node, which was almost as big as a Pullet's 
 Egg, was suppurated, and the throat strangely 
 amended, and, to be brief (to God's glory I speak it), 
 within a month discharged itself quite, and was per- 
 fectly healed, and so continues, God be praised.' 
 
 This may be taken as a sample of his cures, albeit 
 his first ; and, although he excited the enmity of the 
 licensed medical profession, he seems to have cured 
 the Countess of Conway of an inveterate head-ache, 
 which greatly enhanced his reputation. He died no 
 one knows when, but some time early in the century. 
 
 And in our time, too, have been the quacks, the 
 Zouave Jacob and Dr. Newton, who pretended to 
 have the miraculous gift of healing by the imposition 
 of hands, so that we can scarcely wonder that, in an 
 age when the dissemination of accurate and scien- 
 tific knowledge as the present is (imperfect though 
 it be), a man like Valentine Greatraks was believed 
 in as of almost divine authority at the period at 
 which he lived. But it is a very curious thing that 
 some men either imagine that they have, or feign to 
 
310 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 have a miraculous gift of healing. Witness in our 
 own day the ' Peculiar People,' who base their pecu- 
 liar gift of healing on a text from the Epistle of St. 
 James, chap. 5, v. 14 — ' Is any sick among you? let 
 him call upon the elders of the Church ; and let them 
 pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name 
 of the Lord.' 
 
 So also the Catholic and Apostolic Church (Irving- 
 ites) teach this practice as a dogma, vide their 
 catechism, 1 'What are the benefits to be derived 
 from this rite V ' St. James teaches us again that 
 the prayer of faith shall save the sick, and the Lord 
 shall raise him up ; and, if he have committed sins, 
 they shall be forgiven him.' After this, who can say 
 that the age of faith is passed away ? 
 
 With them, also, is a great function for the bene- 
 diction of oil for anointing the sick ; the rubric for 
 which is as follows : 2 ' In the Celebration of the Holy 
 Eucharist on a Week-day, immediately before the 
 elements are brought up and placed on the Altar, the 
 Elder or Elders present shall bring the vessel con- 
 taining the oil to the Angel, who shall present it 
 uncovered upon the Altar ; and then kneeling down 
 at the Altar, and the Elders kneeling down at the 
 access to the Sanctuary, the Angel shall say this 
 Prayer of Benediction.' 
 
 Here follows a not very long prayer, in which the 
 Almighty is intreated to impart to the oil the virtue 
 which is dogmatically asserted that it possesses, in 
 the catechism. The rubric then continues, ' The oil 
 which has been blessed shall remain on the Altar until 
 
 1 ' The Liturgy and other Divine Offices of the Church/ 
 London, Bosworth, 1880, p. 638. 
 2 ' The Liturgy and other Divine Offices of the Church,' p. 584. 
 
QUACKS OF THE CENTURY. 311 
 
 after the Service, and shall then be delivered by the 
 Angel to the senior Elder, that it may be reverently 
 carried to the Sacristy, and there deposited in the 
 proper place by the Angel.' 
 
 In the * Order for anointing the Sick ' (p. 602), the 
 rubric says : * This rite shall be administered only to 
 such as have, in time past, received the Holy Com- 
 munion, or to whom it is intended presently to 
 administer the Communion ; also, only in such cases 
 of sickness as are of a serious or dangerous charac- 
 ter. In order to the receiving of the rite, opportunity 
 should, if possible, be previously given to the sick 
 person to make confession of his sins. 
 
 ' A table should be provided in the sick person's 
 room, with a clean cloth thereon, upon which may be 
 placed the vessel of holy oil ... . The Elder in 
 charge shall be accompanied, when possible, by the 
 other Elders, the Pastor, and the Deacon.' 
 
 A somewhat lengthy service follows, and in the 
 middle is this rubric : ' Then the Elders present shall 
 anoint the sick person with the oil on the head or 
 forehead, and, if the sick person request it, also on 
 any part affected.' And it winds up with the sub- 
 joined direction, i All the holy oil that shall remain 
 after the anointing shall be forthwith consumed by 
 Fire.' 
 
 I had intended to confine my subject entirely to 
 English quacks, but the name of Mesmer is so allied 
 to quackery in England that I must needs refer to 
 him. He was born at Merseburg in Germany on 
 May 23, 1733, and died at the same place March 5, 
 1815. He studied medicine, and took a doctor's 
 degree in 1766. He started his extraordinary theory 
 in 1772 by publishing a tract entitled, ■ De Planetarium 
 
312 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Influxn? in which he upheld that tides exist in the 
 air as in the sea, and were similarly produced. He 
 maintained that the sun and the moon acted upon 
 an etherial fluid which penetrated everything, and 
 this force he termed Animal Magnetism. But there is 
 every reason to believe that he was indebted for his 
 discovery to a Jesuit father named Hel, who was 
 professor of astronomy at Vienna. Hel used pecu- 
 liarly made steel plates, which he applied to different 
 portions of his patient's body. Hel and Mesmer 
 subsequently quarrelling about the prior discovery 
 of each, the latter discontinued the use of the plates, 
 and substituted his fingers. Then he found it was 
 unnecessary to touch his patient, but that the same 
 magnetic influence could be induced by waving his 
 hands, and making what are called mesmeric passes at 
 a distance. 
 
 But the Viennese are a practical race, and his 
 failures to cure, notably in one case, that of Made- 
 moiselle Paradis (a singer), who was blind, caused 
 charges of deceit to be brought against him, and he 
 was told to leave Vienna at a day's notice. He 
 obeyed, and went to Paris, where he set up a superb 
 establishment, fitted up most luxuriously. The novelty- 
 loving Parisians soon visited him, and here, in a dimly 
 lit room, with pseudo -scientific apparatus to excite 
 the imagination, and a great deal of corporal manipu- 
 lation, tending to the same purpose, to the accompani- 
 ment of soft music or singing, hysterical women went 
 into convulsive fits, and laughed, sobbed, and shrieked, 
 according to their different temperaments. 
 
 Having reached this stage, Mesmer made his 
 appearance, clad in a gold embroidered robe of 
 violet silk, holding in his hand a magnetic rod of 
 
QUACKS OF THE CENTURY. 313 
 
 wondrous power. With slow and solemn steps he 
 approached his patients, and the exceeding gravity 
 of his deportment, added to their ignorance of what 
 might be coming next, generally calmed and subdued 
 those who were not insensible. Those who had lost 
 their senses he awoke by stroking them, and tracing 
 figures upon their bodies with his magnetic wand, 
 and, on their recovery, they used to testify to the 
 great good his treatment had done them. 
 
 A commission of scientific and medical men sat to 
 make inquiry into ' Animal Magnetism,' and they re- 
 ported adversely. He then endeavoured to get a 
 pecuniary recognition of his services from the French 
 Government, but this being declined, he retired to 
 Spa, where, the bubble having been pricked, he lived 
 for some time in comparative obscurity. 
 
 Mesmerism was introduced into England in the 
 year 1788, by a Dr. De Mainauduc, who, on his 
 arrival at Bristol, delivered lectures on 'Animal 
 Magnetism '; and, as his somewhat cautious biographer, 
 Dr. George Winter, observes, he 'was reported to 
 have cured diseased persons, even without the aid of 
 medicines, and of his having the power of treating 
 and curing diseased persons at a distance.' He found 
 many dupes, for the said authority remarks, 'On 
 looking over the lists of Students that had been, or 
 then were under the Doctor's tuition, it appeared that 
 there was 1 Duke — 1 Duchess — 1 Marchioness — 
 2 Countesses — 1 Earl — 1 Lord — 3 Ladies — 1 Bishop 
 — 5 Right Honourable Gentlemen and Ladies — 
 2 Baronets — 7 Members of Parliament — 1 Clergyman 
 — 2 Physicians — 7 Surgeons — exclusive of 92 Gen- 
 tlemen and Ladies of respectability, in the whole 127. 
 
 ' Naturally fond of study, and my thirst after know- 
 
314 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 ledge being insatiable, I also was allured to do my- 
 self the honour of adding my name to the list ; and to 
 investigate this very extraordinary Science : and, ac- 
 cording to the general terms, I paid 25 Guineas to 
 the Doctor, and 5 Guineas for the use of the Room ; I 
 also signed a bond for £10,000, and took an affidavit 
 that I would not discover the secrets of the Science 
 during the Doctor s natural life.' 
 
 So we see that this wonderful power had a market 
 value of no mean consideration, and, indeed, an 
 anonymous authority, who wrote on * Animal Magnet- 
 ism,' states that Dr. Mainauduc realised £100,000. 
 So lucrative was its practice, that many pretenders 
 sprung up, notable one Holloway who gave lectures 
 at the rate of five guineas the course, besides Miss 
 Prescott, Mrs. Pratt, Monsieur de Loutherbourg the 
 painter, Mr. Parker, and Dr. Yeldal ; but the chief of 
 these quacks was Dr. Loutherbourg, who was assist- 
 ed in his operations by his wife. A book about his 
 wonderful cures was written by one of his believers, 
 Mary Pratt, < A lover of the Lamb of God/ in which 
 he is described as ' A Gentleman of superior abilities, 
 well known in the scientific and polite Assemblies for 
 his brilliancy of talents as a Philosopher, and Painter : 
 this Gentleman is no other than Mr. De Louther- 
 bourg, who with his Lady, Mrs. De Loutherbourg, 
 have been made by the Almighty power of the Lord 
 Jehovah, proper Recipients to receive divine Manu- 
 ductions, which heavenly and divine Influx coming 
 from the Radix God, his divine Majesty has most 
 graciously condescended to bestow on them (his 
 blessing) to diffuse healing to all who have faith in 
 the Lord as mediator, be they Deaf, Dumb, Lame, 
 Halt, or Blind.' 
 
QUACKS OF THE CENTURY. 315- 
 
 That thousands flocked to these charlatans is un- 
 doubted, for Dr. George Winter (above quoted) says, 
 'It was credibly reported that 3,000 persons have 
 attended at one time, to get admission at Mr. Louther- 
 bourg's, at Hammersmith ; and that some persons sold 
 their tickets for from One, to Three Guineas each.' 
 And this is corroborated by crazy Mary Pratt. * Re- 
 port says three Thousand People have waited for 
 Tickets at a time. For my own part, the Croud was 
 so immense that I could with difficulty gain the Door 
 on Healing Days, and I suppose, upon conviction, Re- 
 port spoke Truth.' De Loutherbourg charged no- 
 thing for his cures, and Mary Pratt is extremely 
 scandalized at those who, having received a ticket 
 gratis, sold them from two to five guineas. 
 
 Many cases are given in her book of the cures 
 effected by this benevolent couple ; how the blind 
 were made to see, the deaf to hear, the lame to walk, 
 or the dumb to speak — nay, could even cast out 
 devils — as the following testimonial will show. 
 
 ' The second case I shall mention is that of a 
 woman possessed with Evil Spirits, her name Pennier, 
 lives at No. 33 Ogle Street, Mary-le-bone, near Port- 
 land-Chapel; her husband lives with the French 
 Ambassador : her case was too terrific to describe ; 
 her eyes and mouth distorted, she was like a Lunatic 
 in every sense of the word ; she used to say that it 
 was not her voice that spoke, but the devil in her. 
 In short, her case was most truly distressing, not only 
 to her family, but the neighbourhood ; she used to in- 
 vite people in with apparent civility, then bite them, 
 and scratch like a cat ; nay, she would beg a pin of 
 women, and then scratch them with it, &c, &c, &c.' 
 
 'Mrs. De Loutherbourg, a lady of most exquisite 
 
316 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 sensibility and tenderness, administered to this Mrs. 
 Pennier ; she daily amended, and is now in her right 
 mind, praising God, who has through his servant 
 performed such an amazing cure, to the astonishment 
 of hundreds who saw her and heard her/ 
 
 Mrs. De Lutherbourg's system of cure was ex- 
 tremely simple, as this example will show : * Mrs. 
 Hook, Stable Yard, St. James's, has two daughters, 
 born Deaf and Dumb. She waited on the Lady above 
 mentioned, who looked on them with an eye of be- 
 nignity, and healed them. (I heard both of them 
 speak.)' 
 
 Her husband's plan was rather more clumsy. He 
 imposed hands. ' A News-Carrier at Chelsea cured of 
 an Abscess in his Side. Mr. De Loutherbourg held 
 his hand on the Abscess half a minute, and it broke 
 immediately.' 
 
 Perhaps these cures were not permanent, for * Mr. 
 De Loutherbourg told me he had cured by the bless- 
 ing of God, two Thousand since Christmas. But, as 
 our Lord said, of the ten healed, one only returned 
 to thank him ; so many hundreds have acted, that 
 have never returned to Mr. De Loutherbourg.' 
 
 One of the most impudent of these quacks was 
 named Benjamin Douglas Perkins, whose father 
 claimed to be the inventor of the metallic tractors, 
 which were rods made either of a combination of 
 copper, zinc, and gold, or of iron, silver, and platinum, 
 and he explains, in the specification to his patent, 
 that 'the point of the instrument thus formed, I 
 apply to those parts of the body which are affected 
 with diseases, and draw them off on the skin, to a 
 distance from the complaint, and usually towards the 
 extremities.' 
 
QUACKS OF THE CENTURY. 317 
 
 He charged the moderate sum of five guineas a set 
 for these precious instruments, and made a good 
 thing out of them. He was a member of the Society 
 of Friends, and, as a proof that his charlatanism was 
 believed in, this benevolent society subscribed large- 
 ly, and built for him the Perkinean Institution, an 
 hospital where the poor could be treated on his 
 system, free of cost. 
 
 He was an adept in the art of puffing, and his 
 * Testimonials ' are quite equal to those of modern 
 times. I will only cite two. * My little infant child 
 was scalded with hot tea on the forehead, about three 
 and a half inches in length, and three-fourths of an 
 inch in breadth, which raised a vesicle before I had 
 time to apply anything to it. The Tractors were 
 solely used, and the whole redness disappeared. The 
 Blister broke, &c.' 
 
 <A lady fell from her horse, and dislocated her 
 ancle, which remained several hours before it was 
 reduced, by which it became very much swelled, in- 
 flamed, and painful. Two or three applications of the 
 Tractor relieved the pain, and in a day or two she 
 walked the house, and had no further complaint/ 
 
 Then also was Dominic etti, who, in 1765, establish- 
 ed a house in Cheyne Walk, Chelsea, for medicated 
 baths, but he hardly belongs to the magnetisers. 
 Then there was Katterfelto, but he, too, hovers on the 
 borderland of quackism — vide the following one of 
 hundreds of advertisements. 1 
 
 ' By particular Desire of many of the First Nobility. 
 This Present Evening and To-Morrow, 
 At late Cox's Museum, Spring Gardens, 
 
 A Son of the late Colonel Katterfelto of the 
 
 1 General Advertiser, March 26, 1782. 
 
318 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Death's Head Hussars, belonging to the v King of 
 Prussia, is to exhibit the same variety of Perform- 
 ances as he did exhibit on Wednesday the 13th of 
 March, before many Foreign Ministers, with great 
 applause. 
 
 Mr. Katterfelto 
 Has had the honour in his travels to exhibit before 
 the Empress of Russia, the Queen of Hungary, the 
 Kings of Prussia, Sweden, Denmark, and Poland. 
 
 Mr. Katterfelto's 
 Lectures are Philosophical, Mathematical, Optical, 
 Magnetical, Electrical, Physical, Chymical, Pneumatic, 
 Hydraulic, Hydrostatic, Styangraphic, Palenchic, and 
 Caprimantic Art. 
 
 Mr. Katterfelto 
 Will deliver a different Lecture every night in the 
 week, and show various uncommon experiments, and 
 his apparatus are very numerous, and elegantly 
 finished : all are on the newest construction, many of 
 which are not to be equalled in Europe. 
 
 Mr. Katterfelto 
 Will, after his Philosophical Lecture, discover various 
 arts by which many persons lose their fortunes by 
 Dice, Cards, Billiards, and E.O. Tables, &c.' 
 
 He was a charlatan pur et simple, and to his other 
 attractions he added a performing black cat, 1 * but 
 Colonel Katterfelto is very sorry that many persons 
 will have it that he and his famous Black Cat were 
 Devils but such suspicion only arises through his 
 various wonderful and uncommon performances : he 
 only professes to be a moral and divine Philosopher, 
 -and he says, that all persons on earth live in darkness, 
 
 1 General Advertiser, May 1, 1783. 
 
QUACKS OF TEE CENTURY. 319 
 
 if they are able, but won't see that most enterprizing 
 extraordinary, astonishing, wonderful, and uncommon 
 exhibition on the Solar Microscope. He will this 
 day, and every day this week, show, from eight in the 
 morning till five in the afternoon, his various new 
 Occult Secrets, which have surprized the King and 
 the whole Royal Family : and his evening lecture be- 
 gins this, and every night, precisely at eight o'clock ; 
 but no person will be admitted after eight ; and after 
 his lecture he will exhibit many new deceptions. 
 His Black Cat will also make her appearance this 
 evening at No. 24, Piccadilly. His exhibition of the 
 Solar Microscope has caused him lately very grand 
 houses ; also his wonderful Black Cat at night ; many 
 thousands could not receive admission lately for want 
 of room, and Katterfelto expects to clear at least 
 above £30,000, in a year's time, through his Solar 
 Microscope and surprizing Black Cat.' 
 
 He also invented a sort of lucifer-match. 1 'Dr. 
 Katterfelto will also, for 2 fid. sell such a quantity of 
 his new invented Alarum, which is better than £20 
 worth of Phosphorus matches, and is better in a house 
 or ship than £20,000, as many lives may be saved by 
 it, and is more useful to the Nation than 30,000 Air 
 Balloons. It will light 900 candles, pistols or can- 
 nons, and never misses. He also sells the very best 
 Solid, Liquid, and Powder Phosphorus, Phosphorus 
 Matches, Diamond Beetles, &c.' Katterfelto died at 
 Bedale, in Yorkshire, 25th of November, 1799. 
 
 There also lived Dr. Graham, who was not heard 
 
 of before 1780, and he was an arch quack. About 
 
 that year he took a mansion in the Royal Terrace, 
 
 Adelphi, which he fitted up sumptuously. It was 
 
 1 General Advertiser, February 13, 1781. 
 
320 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 inscribed 'Templum iEseulapio Sacrum,' and was 
 called both the * Temple of Health,' and the * Hy- 
 meneal Temple ' Here, in air heavy with incense, he 
 lectured on electricity and magnetism. He was a 
 past master in the art of puffing, and published 
 several books in glorification of himself. In one, 
 called ' Medical Transactions at the Temple of 
 Health in London, in the course of the years 1781 & 
 1782/ he gives a wonderful list of cures worked 
 by his ■ Electrical iEther, Nervous iEthereal Balsam, 
 Imperial Pills, Liquid Amber, British Pills,' and his 
 ' Bracing, or Restorative Balsam,' which, in order to 
 bring within the reach of ordinary people, he kindly 
 consented to sell at half-price, namely, 'that the 
 bottles marked, and formerly sold at one guinea, may 
 now be had at only half-a-guinea ; the half-guinea 
 bottles at five shillings and threepence ; the five 
 shilling at half-a-crown, and the two-and-sixpenny 
 vials at only one shilling and threepence? 
 
 In this book, too, are some choice specimens of 
 poetry, all laudatory of Dr. Graham, one of which is 
 worth repeating, as a specimen — 
 
 « An Acrostic, by a Lady. 
 
 D eign to accept the tribute which I owe, 
 
 O ne grateful, joyful tear, permit to flow ; 
 
 C an I be silent when good health is given ? 
 
 T hat first — that best — that richest gift of heaven ! 
 
 O Muse ! descend, in most exalted lays, 
 
 E eplete with softest notes, attune his praise. 
 
 G en'rous by nature, matchless in thy skill ! 
 
 R ich in the God-like art — to ease — to heal ; 
 
 A 11 bless thy gifts ! the sick — the lame — the blind, 
 
 H ail thee with rapture for the cure they find ! 
 
 A rm'd by the Deity with power divine, 
 
 M ortals revere His attributes in thine.' 
 
QUACKS OF THE CENTURY. 321 
 
 In this temple of ' Health and Hymen ' he had a 
 wonderful * Celestial Bed,' which he pretended cost 
 sixty thousand pounds. He guaranteed that the 
 sleepers therein, although hitherto childless, should 
 become prolific ; but it was somewhat costly, for the 
 fee for its use for a single night was one hundred 
 pounds. Still, he had some magneto-electric beds, 
 which, probably, were as efficacious, at a lower rate, 
 only fifty pounds nightly. The title-page of a 
 pamphlet on his establishment is noteworthy. 
 
 ' II Convito Amoroso, 
 
 Or a Serio — comico — philosophical 
 
 Lecture 
 
 on the 
 
 Causes, Nature, and Effects of Love and Beauty, 
 
 At the Different Periods of Human Life, in Persons, and 
 
 Personages, Male, Female, and Demi-Charactere ; 
 
 And in Praise of the Genial and Prolific Influences of the 
 
 Celestial Bed ! 
 
 As Delivered by Hebe Vestina, 
 
 The Rosy Goddess of Youth and of Health ! 
 
 from the 
 Electrical Throne ! in the Great Apollo- Chamber, 
 At the Temple of Hymen, in London, 
 Before a glowing and brilliant Audience of near 
 Three Hundred Ladies and Gentlemen, who were 
 commanded by Venus, Cupid, and Hymen ! to assist, 
 in joyous Assembly, at the Grand Feast of very Fat 
 Things, which was held at their Temple, on Monday 
 Evening, the 25th of November, 1782 ; but which was 
 interrupted by the rude and unexpected Arrival of 
 his Worship Midas Neutersex, Esq re - .... just as 
 the Dessert was about to be served up. 
 
 Y 
 
322 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Published at the earnest Desire of many of the Com- 
 pany, and to gratify the impatient and very 
 intense longings of Thousands of Adepts, 
 Hibernian and British; — of the Cognoscenti; — 
 et de les Amateur ardens des delices exquise de 
 Venus ! 
 
 To which is subjoined, a description of the Stupendous 
 
 Nature and Effects of the Celebrated 
 
 Celestial Bed !' 
 
 The c Vestina, or Goddess of Health,' was no mean 
 person. She began life as a domestic servant, and 
 was named Emma Lyons. She was a good-looking, 
 florid, buxom wench, and, after having played her 
 part as priestess at the ' Temple of Health and 
 Hymen,' became the wife of the dilletante Sir William 
 Hamilton, English Minister at Naples, and was after- 
 wards notorious for her connection with Lord Nelson. 
 
 Graham wrote in 1790, 'A short Treatise on the 
 All cleansing — all healing — and all invigorating 
 Qualities of the Simple Earth, when long and 
 repeatedly applied to the naked Human Body and 
 Lungs, for the safe, speedy, and radical Cure of all 
 Diseases, internal as well as external, which are, in 
 their Nature or Stage, susceptible of being cured ; — 
 for the preservation of the Health, Vigour, Bloom, 
 and Beauty of Body and of Mind ; for rejuvenating 
 the aged and decaying Human Body ; — and for pro- 
 longing Life to the very longest possible Period, &c.' 
 
 For the benefit of those who would try the doc- 
 tor's earth-cure, I extract the following : ' I generally, 
 or always, prefer the sides or tops of hills or moun- 
 tains, as the air and the earth are the more pure and 
 salubrious ; but the air and earth of ordinary pasture 
 
QUACKS OF THE CENTURY. 323 
 
 or corn-fields, especially those that are called upland, 
 and even good clean garden- ground, or the higher 
 commons, especially fallow corn-fields, are all salu- 
 tary and good. 
 
 'As to the colour and nature of the earth or soil, I 
 prefer a good brown or reddish blooming mould, and 
 light, sandy, crumbly, mellow and marrowy earth ; or 
 that which feels when I am in it, and crumbling with 
 my hands and fingers, like bits of marrow among 
 fine Flour; and that which has a strong, sweet, 
 earthly smell ' 
 
 So that my readers now know exactly what to do. 
 
 He had a fairly comprehensive idea of modern 
 hygiene, as will be seen from the following extract 
 from * General Instructions to the persons who con- 
 sult Dr. Graham as a Physician ' : 
 
 1 It will be unreasonable for Dr. Graham's Patients 
 to expect a complete and a lasting cure, or even 
 great alleviation of their peculiar maladies, unless 
 they keep the body and limbs most perfectly clean 
 with very frequent washings, — breathe fresh, open 
 air day and night, — be simple in the quality and 
 moderate in the quantity of their food and drink, — 
 and totally give up using the deadly poisons and 
 weakeners of both body and soul, and the canker- 
 worm of estates called foreign Tea and Coffee, Red 
 Port Wine, Spirituous Liquors, Tobacco and Snuff, 
 gaming and late hours, and all sinful, unnatural, and 
 excessive indulgence of the animal appetites, and of 
 the diabolical and degrading mental passions. On 
 practising the above rules — on a widely open window 
 day and night — and on washing with cold water, 
 and going to bed every night by eight or nine, and 
 rising by four or five, depends the very perfection 
 
 y2 
 
324 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 of bodily and mental health, strength and happiness/ 
 He wrote many pamphlets, some of them on reli- 
 gions matters, and the fools who patronised him paid 
 him large fees ; yet his expenses were very heavy, 
 and his manner of living luxurious, so that we ex- 
 perience but little wonder when we find the ' Temple 
 of Health' sold up, and that Graham himself died 
 poor — either in, or near, Glasgow. 
 
 Early in the century there were (in surgery) two 
 noted quacks, namely, Dr. (afterwards Sir William) 
 Read, and Roger, or, as he called himself, Doctor, 
 Grant — both oculists. Read originally was a tailor, 
 and Grant had been a tinker and Anabaptist preacher. 
 The list of cures of both are marvellous — Grant even 
 advertising in the Daily Courant, of July 20, 1709 r 
 that he had cured, in five minutes, a young man that 
 had been born blind. But at that time, when people 
 believed in their sovereign being able to cure scrofula 
 by touching the patient with a gold coin, a little 
 faith went a long way. 
 
 But quackery was not confined to the masculine 
 gender — the ladies competed with them in the field. 
 Notably Mrs. Map, the bone-setter of Epsom, of whom 
 Mr. Pulteney writes so amusingly to Swift on De- 
 cember 21, 1736: 'I must tell you a ridiculous 
 incident ; perhaps you have not heard it. One Mrs. 
 Mapp, a famous she bone-setter and mountebank, 
 coming to town with a coach and six horses, on the 
 Kentish road, was met by a rabble of people, who, 
 seeing her very oddly and tawdrily dressed, took her 
 for a foreigner, and concluded she must be a certain 
 great person's mistress. Upon this they followed the 
 
 coach, bawling out, " No Hanover w ! No 
 
 Hanover w !" The lady within the coach was 
 
QUACKS OF THE CENTURY. 325 
 
 much offended, let down the glass, and screamed 
 louder than any of them, " She was no Hanover 
 
 w ! she was an English one !" Upon which they 
 
 cried out, " God bless your ladyship !" quitted the 
 pursuit, and wished her a good journey.' 
 
 This woman sprang into notoriety all at once. 
 The first authentic account of her is on page 457 
 of the London Magazine for 1836, under the date of 
 August 2 : ' The Town has been surprized lately with 
 the fame of a young woman at Epsom, who, tho' not 
 very regular, it is said, in her Conduct, has wrought 
 such Cures that seem miraculous in the Bone-setting 
 way. The Concourse of People to Epsom on this 
 occasion is incredible, and 'tis reckon'd she gets near 
 20 Guineas a Day, she executing what she does in a 
 very quick Manner : She has strength enough to put 
 in any Man's Shoulder without any assistance ; and 
 this her strength makes the following Story the more 
 credible. A Man came to her, sent, as 'tis supposed, 
 by some Surgeons, on purpose to try her Skill, with 
 his Hand bound up, and pretended his Wrist was put 
 out, which upon Examination she found to be false ; 
 but, to be even with him for his Imposition, she gave 
 it a Wrench, and really put it out, and bad him go to 
 the Fools ivJw sent him, and get it set again, or, if he would 
 come to her that day month, she would do it herself. 
 
 • This remarkable person is Daughter to one Wallin, 
 a Bone-setter of Hindon, Wilts. Upon some family 
 Quarrel, she left her Father, and Wander'd up and 
 down the Country in a very miserable Manner, call- 
 ing herself Crazy Salley. Since she became thus 
 famous, she married one Mr. Hill Mapp, late servant 
 to a Mercer on Ludgate Hill, who, 'tis said, soon left 
 her, and carried off £100 of her Money.' 
 
326 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 She was not long making her way in the world,, 
 for we read in the same magazine, under date, Sep- 
 tember 19, 1736 : 'Mrs. Mapp, the famous Bone-setter 
 at Epsom, continues making extraordinary Cures. 
 She has now set up an Equipage, and this Day came 
 to Kensington and waited on her Majesty.' 
 
 The Gentleman s Magazine, under date of August 
 31, 1736, gives a similar account of her private life, 
 adding that her husband did not stay with her above 
 a fortnight, but adds that she was wonderfully clever 
 in her calling, having ' cured Persons who have been 
 above 20 years disabled, and has given incredible 
 Relief in most difficult cases.' 
 
 ' Mrs. Mapp the Bone-setter, with Dr. Taylor the 
 Oculist, being present at the Playhouse in Lincoln s 
 Inns Fields, to see a Comedy call'd the Husband's 
 Relief, with the Female Bone-setter, and Worm Doc- 
 tor ; it occasioned a full House, and the following 
 
 Epigram. 
 
 1 While Mapp to th' Actors shew'd a kind regard, 
 On one side Taylor sat, on t'other Ward: 
 When their mock Persons of the Drama came, 
 Both Ward and Taylor thought it hurt their fame ; 
 Wonder'd how Mapp cou'd in good Humour be — 
 Zoons, crys the Manly Dame, it hurts not me ; 
 Quacks without Arts may either blind or kill, 
 But Demonstration shews that mine is Skill. 
 
 And the following was sung upon y e Stage : 
 
 You Surgeons of London who puzzle your Pates, 
 To ride in your Coaches, and purchase Estates, 
 Give over, for Shame, for your Pride has a Fall, 
 And y e Doctress of Epsom has outdone you all. 
 
QUACKS OF THE CENTURY. 327 
 
 What signifies Learning, or going to school, 
 When a Woman can do without Reason or Rule, 
 What puts you to Non-plus, and baffles your Art, 
 For Petticoat-Practice has now got the Start. 
 
 In Physick, as well as in Fashions, we find 
 The newest has always its Run with Mankind ; 
 Forgot is the bustle 'bout Taylor and Ward, 
 Now Mapp's all y e Cry, and her Fame's on Record. 
 
 Dame Nature has giv'n her a Doctor's Degree, 
 She gets all y 9 Patients, and pockets the Fee ; 
 So if you don't instantly prove her a Cheat, 
 She'll loll in her Chariot while you walk y e Street.' 1 
 
 At this time she was at her acme — but if an anony- 
 mous writer in the Cornhill Magazine for March, 1878, 
 p. 82, is to be believed, she died December, 1837, ■ at 
 her lodgings near Seven Dials, so miserably poor, that 
 the parish was obliged to bury her.' 
 
 In No. 572 of the Spectator, July 26, 1714, 2 is a very 
 amusing article on the quacks of Queen Anne's time : 
 i There is scarce a city in Great Britain but has one 
 of this tribe, who takes it into his protection, and on 
 the market-day harangues the good people of the 
 place with aphorisms and receipts. You may de- 
 pend upon it he comes not there for his own private 
 interest, but out of a particular affection to the town. 
 I remember one of these public-spirited artists at 
 Hammersmith, who told his audience that he had been 
 born and bred there, and that, having a special 
 regard for the place of his nativity, he was deter- 
 mined to make a present of five shillings to as many 
 as would accept of it. The whole crowd stood agape 
 
 1 Gentleman's Magazine, 1736, pp. 617—618. 
 2 By Dr. Zackary Pearce, Bishop of Rochester. 
 
328 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 and ready to take the doctor at his word ; when, put- 
 ting his hand into a long bag, as everyone was ex- 
 pecting his crown piece, he drew out a handful of 
 little packets, each of which, he informed the specta- 
 tors, was constantly sold at five shillings and six- 
 pence, but that he would bate the odd five shillings 
 to every inhabitant of that place ; the whole assem- 
 bly immediately closed with this generous offer, and 
 took off all his physick, after the doctor had made 
 them vouch for one another, that there were no for- 
 eigners among them, but that they were all Hammer- 
 smith men. 
 
 1 There is another branch of pretenders to this art, 
 who, without either horse or pickle herring, 1 lie snug 
 in a garret, and send down notice to the world of their 
 extraordinary parts and abilities by printed bills and 
 advertisements. These seem to have derived their 
 custom from an eastern nation which Herodotus 
 speaks of, among whom it was a law that whenever 
 any cure was to be performed, both the method of the 
 cure, and an account of the distemper, should be fixed 
 in some public place ; but, as customs will corrupt, 
 these, our moderns, provide themselves with persons 
 to attest the cure before they publish or make an 
 experiment of the prescription. I have heard of a 
 porter, who serves as a Knight of the post 2 under one 
 of these operators, and, though he was never sick in 
 his life, has been cured of all the diseases in the Dis- 
 pensary. These are the men whose sagacity has 
 invented elixirs of all sorts, pills and lozenges, and 
 
 1 A pickle herring was a Merry- Andrew or clown, and this 
 means that the quack was too poor to afford either horse or 
 attendant. 
 
 2 A false witness — one who would swear to anything for a trifle. 
 
QUACKS OF THE CENTURY. 329 
 
 take it as an affront if you come to them before you 
 have been given over by everybody else. Their 
 medicines are infallible, and never fail of success ; 
 that is, of enriching the doctor, and setting the 
 patient effectually at rest. 
 
 1 1 lately dropt into a coffee-house at Westminster, 
 where I found the room hung round with ornaments 
 of this nature. There were Elixirs, Tinctures, the 
 Anodyne Fotus, English Pills, Electuaries, and, in 
 short, more remedies than I believe there are diseases. 
 At the sight of so many inventions, I could not but 
 imagine myself in a kind of arsenal or magazine, where 
 a store of arms was deposited against any sudden 
 invasion. Should you be attacked by the enemy 
 sideways, here was an infallible piece of defensive 
 armour to cure the pleurisy ; should a distemper beat 
 up your head-quarters, here you might purchase an 
 impenetrable helmet, or, in the language of the artist, 
 a cephalic tincture ; if your main body be assaulted, 
 here are various kinds of armour in case of various 
 onsets. I began to congratulate the present age 
 upon the happiness man might reasonably hope for 
 in life, when death was thus in a manner defeated, 
 and when pain itself would be of so short a duration, 
 that it would just serve to enhance the value of 
 pleasure. 
 
 1 While I was in these thoughts, I unluckily called 
 to mind a story of an ingenious gentleman of the 
 last age, who, lying violently afflicted with the gout, 
 a person came and offered his services to cure him 
 by a method which, he assured him, was infallible ; 
 the servant who received the message carried it up 
 to his master, who, inquiring whether the person 
 came on foot or in a chariot, and being informed that 
 
330 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 he was on foot: " Go," says he, "send the knave 
 about his business ; was his method infallible as he 
 pretends, he would, long before now, have been in his 
 coach and six." In like manner I concluded that, had 
 all these advertisers arrived to that skill they pretend 
 to, they would have no need, for so many years suc- 
 cessively, to publish to the world the place of their 
 abode, and the virtues of their medicines. One of 
 these gentlemen, indeed, pretends to an effectual 
 cure for leanness : what effects it may have had upon 
 those who have tried it, I cannot tell ; but I am 
 credibly informed that the call for it has been so 
 great, that it has effectually cured the doctor himself 
 of that distemper. Could each of them produce so 
 good an instance of the success of his medicines, 
 they might soon persuade the world into an opinion 
 of them. 
 
 * I observe that most of the bills agree in one 
 expression, viz., that, "with God's blessing," they 
 perform such and such cures : this expression is cer- 
 tainly very proper and emphatical, for that is all they 
 have for it. And, if ever a cure is performed on a 
 patient where they are concerned, they can claim a 
 greater share than Virgils IAPIS in the curing of 
 iENEAS ; he tried his skill, was very assiduous about 
 the wound, and, indeed, was the only visible means 
 that relieved the hero, but the poet assures us it was 
 the particular assistance of a deity that speeded the 
 whole operation.' 
 
 There was another female quack in 1738, one Mrs. 
 Stephens, and in the Gentleman s Magazine for that 
 year, p. 218, we read that ' Mrs. Stephens has proposed 
 to make her Medicines for the Stone publick, on Con- 
 sideration of the sum of £5,000 to be rais'd by 
 
QUACKS OF THE CENTURY. 331 
 
 Contribution, and lodged with Mr. Drummond, Banker. 
 He has receiv'd since the 11th of this month (April) 
 about £500 on that Account/ She advertised her 
 cures very fully, and she obtained and acknowledged, 
 as subscriptions from April 11 to the end of Decem- 
 ber, 1738, the receipt of £1,356 3s. {Gentleman s 
 Magazine, 1739, p. 49). And the subscribers were of 
 no mean quality ; they included five bishops, three 
 dukes, two duchesses, four earls, two countesses, five 
 lords, and of smaller fry a vast quantity. But this 
 did not satisfy her ; she had influence enough to get 
 a short Act of Parliament passed in her favour (Cap. 
 23, 12, Geo. II., 1739), entitled : 
 
 6 An Act for providing a reward to Joanna Stephens 
 Upon a proper discovery to be made by her for the use of 
 the publick, of the medicines prepared by her for the cure 
 of the stone. 
 
 'Whereas Joanna Stevens (sic) of the City of 
 Westminster, spinster, hath acquired the knowledge 
 of medicines, and the skill of preparing them, which 
 by a dissolving power seem capable of removing the 
 cause of the painful distemper of the stone, and may 
 be improved, and more successfully applied when the 
 same shall be discovered to persons learned in the 
 science of physick ; now, for encouraging the said 
 Joanna Stephens to make discovery thereof, and for 
 providing her a recompence in case the said medi- 
 cines shall be submitted to the examination of proper 
 judges, and by them be found worthy of the reward 
 hereby provided ; may it please your Majesty, that it 
 be enacted, etc. 
 
 '£5,000 granted out of the supplies for the dis- 
 covery of Mrs. Stephens's medicines. Treasury to- 
 issue the said sum on a proper certificate.' 
 
332 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 A committee of twenty scientists investigated her 
 medicines, and reported favourably on them. They 
 were trifold. A powder, a draught, and a pill — and 
 what think you they were made of? The powder 
 was made of egg-shells and snails, both burnt ; the 
 draught was made of Alicante soap, swine's cresses 
 burnt, and honey. This was made into a ball, which 
 was afterwards sliced and dissolved in a broth com- 
 posed of green camomile, or camomile flowers, sweet 
 fennel, parsley, and burdock leaves, boiled in water 
 and sweetened with honey; whilst the pill was com- 
 pounded of snails, wild carrot seeds, burdock seeds, 
 ashen keys, hips and haws, all burnt to blackness, and 
 then mixed with Alicante soap ! These were the 
 famous remedies for which a grateful nation paid 
 such a large sum ! ! ! 
 
333 
 
 CAGLIOSTRO IN LONDON. 
 
 JARLYLE, in a very diffuse essay on this 
 adventurer, thus introduces him : * The 
 Count Alessandro di Cagliostro, Pupil of 
 the sage Althotas, Foster-child of the 
 Scherif of Mecca, probable Son of the 
 last King of Trebisond; named also Acharat, and 
 unfortunate child of Nature ; by profession healer of 
 diseases, abolisher of wrinkles, friend of the poor and 
 impotent, grand-master of the Egyptian Mason Lodge 
 of High Science, Spirit Summoner, Gold Cook, Grand 
 Cophta, Prophet, Priest, and thaumaturgic moralist 
 and swindler ; really a Liar of the first magnitude, 
 thorough-paced in all provinces of Lying, what one 
 may call the King of Liars. 
 
 6 Mendez Pinto, Baron Munchausen, and others are 
 celebrated in this art, and not without some colour 
 of justice ; yet must it in candour remain doubtful 
 whether any of these comparatively were much more 
 than liars from the teeth onwards : a perfect character 
 of the species in question, who lied not in word only, 
 but continually in thought, word, and act ; and, so to 
 speak, lived wholly in an element of lying, and from 
 birth to death did nothing but lie — was still a de- 
 sideratum. Of which desideratum Count Alessandro 
 offers, we say, if not the fulfilment, perhaps as near 
 
33-i EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 an approach to it as the limited human faculties 
 permit/ 
 
 And yet this man made a name, and was famous 
 in his time, and even afterwards. Lives, novels, and 
 romances, notably being immortalized by Alexandre 
 Dumas in his * Memoires d'un Medecin,' nay, even 
 plays, have been written about this clever rogue, 
 who rose from a poor man's son to be the talk of 
 Europe, and his connection with the famous diamond 
 necklace, made him of almost political importance, suffi- 
 cient to warrant his incarceration in the Bastille. 
 
 I do not propose to write the life of Cagliostro — 
 enough and to spare has been written on this sub- 
 ject, 1 but simply to treat of him in Loudon ; yet at 
 the same time it is necessary to say when and where 
 he was born — the more especially because he always 
 professed ignorance of his birth, and, when examined 
 in a French court of justice in relation to the famous 
 diamond necklace on January 30, 1786, the question 
 was put to him, 'How old are you?' Answer — 
 4 Thirty-seven or thirty-eight years.' Question — 
 ' Your name V Answer — * Alessandro Cagliostro.' 
 Question — ' Where born ?' Answer — * I cannot say 
 for certain, whether it was at Malta or at Medina ; 
 I have lived under the tuition of a governor, who 
 told me that I was of noble birth, that 1 was left an 
 orphan when only three months old/ etc. 
 
 But in a French book, 2 of which an English transla- 
 
 1 I have before me now twelve lives of him, and that is by no 
 means an exhaustive list. 
 
 2 ' Memoire pour le Comte de Cagliostro, accuse : contre 
 Monsieur le Procureur-General, accusateur ; en presence de 
 Monsieur le Cardinal de Rohan, de la Comtesse de la Motte, et 
 autres co-accuses.' Paris, 1786, 4to. 
 
CAGLIOSTRO IN LONDON. 335 
 
 tion was made in 1786, Cagliostro is made to say, 'I 
 cannot speak positively as to the place of my nativity, 
 nor to the parents who gave me birth. From various 
 circumstances of my life I have conceived some 
 doubts, in which the reader perhaps will join with 
 me. But I repeat it : all my inquiries have ended 
 only in giving me some great notions, it is true, but 
 altogether vague and uncertain concerning my 
 family. 
 
 1 I spent the years of my childhood in the city ot 
 Medina, in Arabia. There I was brought up under 
 the name of Acharat, which I preserved during my 
 progress through Africa and Asia. I had apartments 
 in the palace of the Muphti Salahaym. It is needless 
 to add that the Muphti is the chief of the Mahometan 
 Religion, and that his constant residence is at Medina. 
 
 4 1 recollect perfectly that I had. then four persons 
 in my service : a governor, between 55 and 60 years 
 of age, whose name was Althotas, and three servants, 
 a white one, who attended me as valet-de-Chambre, 
 and two blacks, one of whom was constantly about 
 me night and day. 
 
 ' My Governor always told me that I had been left 
 an orphan when only three months old ; that my 
 parents were Christians, and nobly born ; but he left 
 me absolutely in the dark about their names, and the 
 place of my nativity : a few words which he dropped 
 by chance have induced me to suspect that I was 
 born at Malta ; but this circumstance I have never 
 been able to ascertain/ 
 
 Althotas was a great sage, and imparted to his 
 young pupil all the scientific knowledge he possess- 
 ed, and that awful person, the Grand Muphti himself, 
 would deign to converse with the boy on the lore 
 
336 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 and history of ancient Egypt. At this time he says 
 he dressed as a Mussulman, and conformed to their 
 rites ; but was all the time at heart a true Christian. 
 
 At the mature age of twelve, he felt a strong desire 
 to travel, and Althotas indulged him by joining a 
 caravan going to Mecca, and here comes an attempt 
 to fasten his paternity upon the Cherif of that place. 
 
 I On our arrival at Mecca, we alighted at the palace 
 of the Cherif, who is the sovereign of Mecca, and of 
 all Arabia, and always chosen from amongst the 
 descendants of Mahomet. I here altered my dress, 
 from a simple one, which I had worn hitherto, to one 
 more splendid. On the third day after our arrival, I 
 was, by my Governor, presented to the Cherif, who 
 honoured me with the most endearing caresses. At 
 sight of this prince, my senses experienced a sudden 
 emotion, which it is not in the power of words to ex- 
 press ; my eyes dropped the most delicious tears I 
 ever shed in my life. His, I perceived, he could 
 hardly restrain .... 
 
 I I remained at Mecca for the space of three years ; 
 not one day passed without my being admitted to 
 the Sovereign's presence, and every hour increased 
 his attachment and added to my gratitude. I some- 
 times surprized his eyes rivetted upon me, and then 
 looking up to heaven, with every expression of pity 
 and commiseration. Thoughtful, I would go from 
 him, a prey to an ever fruitless curiosity. I dared 
 not ask any question of my Governor, who always re- 
 buked me with great severity, as if it had been a 
 crime in me to wish for some information concerning 
 my parents, and the place where I was born .... 
 
 ' One day as I was alone, the prince entered my 
 apartment ; so great a favour struck me with amaze- 
 
CAGLWSTRO IN LONDON. 337 
 
 merit ; he strained me to his bosom with more than 
 usual tenderness, bade me never cease to adore the 
 Almighty, telling me that, as long as I should persist 
 in serving God faithfully, I should at last be happy, 
 and come to the knowledge of my real destiny ; then 
 he added, bedewing my cheeks with tears, < s Adieu, 
 thou nature's unfortunate child." . . . .' 
 
 This is one side of the question — his own. It is 
 romantic, and in all probability a lie. There is an- 
 other side; but the evidence, although far more 
 within the bounds of reason, is unsupported by corro- 
 boration. The authority is from an Italian book of 
 one hundred and eighty-nine pages, entitled : * Com- 
 pendio della Vita, et delle Gesta di Guiseppe Balsamo, 
 clenominato II CoNTE CAGLIOSTRO. Che si e estratto 
 dal Processo contro di lui formato in Roma VAnno, 17 ( J0. 
 E die pad servire di scorta per conoscere Vindole della 
 Setta de Liberi Muratori. In Roma 1791.' This 
 book purports to be printed in the Vatican, ' from the 
 Printing press of the Reverend Apostolic Chamber.'' 1 
 
 In the preface of this book is the following sen- 
 tence, which is intended to vouch for the facts it 
 contains : \ Thence comes the justice of that observa- 
 tion, that these Charlatans especially acquire credit, 
 renown, and riches, in those countries where the 
 least religion is found, where philosophy is most 
 fashionable. Rome is not a place that agrees with 
 them, because error cannot throw out its roots, in the 
 centre, the capital, of the true faith. The life of 
 Count Cagliostro is a shining proof of this truth. It is 
 for this reason that it has been thought proper to 
 
 1 Of this work there was a French translation published in 1791 
 at Paris and Strasbourg, under the title of ' Vie de Joseph Bal- 
 samo, connu sous le noin de Comte Cagliostro,' &c. 2nd edition. 
 
 Z 
 
338 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 compose this compendium, faithfully extracted from 
 the proceedings taken against him, a short while 
 since, at Rome ; this is evidence which the critic can- 
 not attack. In order to effect this, the Sovereign 
 Pontifical Authority has deigned to dispense with the 
 law of inviolable secrecy, which always accompanies, 
 with as much justice as prudence, the proceedings of 
 the Holy Inquisition.' 
 
 And the account of his life opens thus : ' Joseph 
 Balsamo was born at Palermo on the 8th of June, 
 1743. His parents were Pietro Balsamo and Felice 
 Braconieri, both of mean extraction. His father, who 
 was a shopkeeper, dying when he was still a baby, 
 his maternal uncles took care of him,' &c. 
 
 In another book, ' The Life of the Count Caglios- 
 tro,' &C, London, 1787, there is a foot-note to the 
 first page : * Some authors are of opinion that he is 
 the offspring of the grand Master of Malta, by a 
 Turkish lady, made captive by a Maltese galley. 
 Others that he is the only surviving son of that 
 prince who, about thirty-five years ago, swayed the 
 precarious sceptre of Trebisond, at which period, a 
 revolution taking place, the reigning prince was 
 massacred by his seditious subjects, and his infant 
 son, the Count Cagliostro, conveyed by a trusty friend 
 to Medina, where the Cherif had the unprejudiced 
 generosity to have him educated In the faith of his 
 Christian parents.' 
 
 I do not follow his career, but the most marvellous 
 stories were current about him, vide the following 
 extract from a book already quoted (see foot-note 
 page 334) : * The Comtesse de la Motte dares to assert 
 that one of my men makes a boast of having been 
 150 years in my service. That I sometimes acknow- 
 
CAGLIOSTRO IN LONDON. 339 
 
 ledge myself to be only 300 years old ; at others that 
 I brag of having been present at the nuptials in Cana, 
 and that it was to burlesque the Holy Sacrament of 
 the Eucharist, the transubstantiation, that I had ima- 
 gined to multiply the necklace, taken to pieces, into 
 a hundred different manners, and yet it was delivered, 
 as it is said, in its full complement to the august 
 Queen. 
 
 * That I am by turns a Portuguese Jew, a Greek, 
 an Egyptian of Alexandria, from whence I have im- 
 ported into France hyeroglyphics and sorcery. 
 
 * That I am one of those infatuated Rosicrucians, 
 who have the power of making the dead converse 
 with the living ; that I attend the poor gratis, but 
 that I sell for something, to the rich, the gifts of 
 immortality.' 
 
 But it is not of these things I wish to treat ; it is 
 of the facts connected with his residence in London. 
 Two or three accounts say that he visited London in 
 1772, where he swindled a Doctor Benemore, who 
 had rescued him from prison, under pretence of paint- 
 ing his country house, and his enemy, De Morande, 
 of the Courier de V Europe, who, in No.'s 16, 17, and 
 18 of that journal, made frightful accusations against 
 Cagliostro, reiterates the story of his being here in 
 1772. In page xiv. of the preface to ' The Life of 
 the Count Cagliostro/ 1787, there occurs the follow- 
 ing passage : ' M. de Morande is at infinite pains to 
 persuade us that the Count resided in London in 
 1772, under the name of Balsamo, in extreme poverty, 
 from which he was relieved by Sir Edward Hales. 
 That Baronet professes, indeed, to recollect an Italian 
 of that name ; but, as M. de Morande positively 
 assures us that the Count is a Calabrois, a Neapolitan, 
 
 z2 
 
340 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 or a Sicilian, we can desire no better argument to 
 prove the fallacy of his information.' 
 
 In a pamphlet entitled, 'Lettre du Comte Cagli- 
 ostro au Peuple Anglois pour servir de suite a ses 
 Memoir es/ 1786, p. 7, he says distinctly : * Nous 
 sommes arrives, ma femme et moi, en Angleterre, pour 
 la premiere fois de ma vie, au mois de Juillet, 1776/ 
 and on p. 70 of the same work is the following 
 (translated) : 
 
 1 The greatest part of the long diatribe of M- 
 Morande is used to prove that I came to London in 
 1772, under the name of Balsamo. In view of the 
 efforts which M. Morande makes, in order fco arrive at 
 such proof, an attempt is made to show that the 
 Balsamo with whom they attempt to identify me 
 ought to have been hung, or, at all events, he ren- 
 dered himself guilty of some dishonourable actions. 
 Nothing of the sort. This Balsamo, if the Courier de 
 V Europe can be believed, was a mediocre painter, who 
 lived by his brush. A man named Benamore, either 
 agent, or interpreter, or charge d'affaires to the King 
 of Morocco, had commissioned him to paint some 
 pictures, and had not paid for them. Balsamo issued 
 a writ against him for £47 sterling, which he said 
 was due to him, admitting that he had received two 
 guineas on account. Besides, this Balsamo was so 
 poor that his wife was obliged to go into town her- 
 self, in order to sell the pictures which her husband 
 painted. Such is the portrait which M. de Morande 
 draws of the Balsamo of London, a portrait which no 
 one will accuse him of having flattered, and from 
 which the sensible reader will draw the conclusion 
 that the Balsamo of London was an honest artist who 
 gained a livelihood by hard work. 
 
CAGLIOSTRO IN LONDON. 341 
 
 1 1 might then admit without blushing that I had 
 lived in London in 1772 under the name of Balsamo, 
 on the product of my feeble talents in painting ; that 
 the course of events and circumstances had reduced 
 me to this extremity, etc. . . . 
 
 1 1 am ignorant whether the law-suit between 
 Balsamo and Benamore is real or supposed : one thing 
 is certain, that in London exists a regular physician 
 of irreproachable probity, named Benamore. He is 
 versed in oriental languages: he was formerly at- 
 tached, as interpreter, to the Moroccan Embassy, and 
 he is, at this date, employed, in the same capacity, 
 by the ambassador of Tripoli. He will bear witness 
 to all who wish to know that, during the 30 years he 
 has been established in London, he has never known 
 another Benamore than himself, and that he has 
 never had a law-suit with anyone bearing the name 
 of Balsamo. 9 
 
 Now take Carlyle, with whom dogmatism stood in 
 stead of research, and judge for yourselves. ' There 
 is one briefest but authentic-looking glimpse of him 
 presents itself in England, in the year 1772 : no Count 
 is he here, but mere Signor Balsamo again, engaged 
 in house-painting, for which he has a peculiar talent. 
 Was it true that he painted the country house of a 
 "Doctor Benemore;" and, not having painted, but 
 only smeared it, was refused payment, and got a 
 lawsuit with expenses instead ? If Doctor Benemore 
 have left any representatives in the Earth, they are 
 desired to speak out. We add only, that if young 
 Beppo had one of the prettiest of wives, old Bene- 
 more had one of the ugliest daughters ; and so, put- 
 ting one thing to another, matters might not be so 
 bad.' 
 
342 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Who set this story afloat, about Cagliostro being in 
 London in 1772 ! Why, Monsieur de Morande, the 
 editor of the Courier de V Europe, and of his veracity 
 we may judge by an advertisement in the London 
 Evening Post of November 27 to 30, 1773, p. 4, col. 4, 
 (translated). 
 
 ' Monsieur Le Comte de Lauraguais has kindly 
 consented, after the humble apologies I have made 
 to him, to forego the action commenced against me 
 for having defamed him in some verses full of un- 
 truths, injurious both to his honour and his reputation, 
 of which I was the author, and which I caused to be 
 inserted in the Morning Chronicle of 24 and 25 June 
 last, entitled : " Answer of the Gazetteer Cuirasse." 
 I therefore beg you, Mr. Woodfall, 1 to publish through 
 the same channel by which I made my verses public, 
 — my sincere repentance for having so injuriously 
 libelled Monsieur le Comte, and my very humble 
 thanks for his having accepted my apologies, and 
 stopping all action in the matter. 
 
 < De Morande. 
 
 « Nov. 26, 1773.' 
 
 This is what in law would be called a tainted witness, 
 as, about that time he was, on his own confession, 
 given to lying. 
 
 According to his own account he came to London 
 in July, 1776, possessed of a capital of about three 
 thousand pounds in plate, jewels, and specie, and 
 hired apartments in Whitcomb Street, Pall Mall East, 
 and here he fell into evil company. The story is not 
 very lucid — but it seems that his wife's companion, 
 a Portuguese woman named Blavary, and his secretary 
 and interpreter, Vitellini, introduced to him a certain 
 1 Editor of the Morning Chronicle, 1772—89.- 
 
CAGLIOSTRO IN LONDON. 343 
 
 Lord Scot. They were a lot of sharpers all round. 
 Scot introduced a woman as his wife — Lady Scot, 
 if you please — (in reality Miss Fry), who got money 
 and clothes from the countess, and Cagliostro lent 
 my lord two hundred pounds on his simple note of 
 hand. 
 
 He declares that he gave them lucky numbers for 
 the lottery, and that they gained much money there- 
 by — on one occasion, when he gave Miss Fry the 
 number eight, she won the sum of fifteen hundred 
 guineas ; but she was requested by Cagliostro not to 
 visit, or bother himself, or his wife again. He moved 
 into Suffolk Street in January, 1777, but the perse- 
 vering Miss Fry took lodgings in the same house. 
 She attempted to borrow money, and to get lucky 
 numbers, but, failing in both, she had him arrested on 
 the 7th of February for a pretended debt of one hun- 
 dred and ninety pounds. He recovered his liberty 
 the next day, by depositing in the hands of the 
 sheriff's officer, jewels worth double the amount. 
 
 Then a warrant was taken out against him and his 
 wife, signed by one Justice Miller — on the charge of 
 practising witchcraft. This does not, however, seem 
 to have been acted on, but he was frequently harass- 
 ed by actions for debt brought against him by Miss 
 Fry, and he became well acquainted with the inside 
 of a spun gin g-house. On the 24th of May he was 
 taken into custody for a debt of two hundred pounds, 
 at the suit of Miss Fry, but he managed to find bail. 
 The case was tried before Lord Mansfield, in the 
 Court of Queen's Bench, on the 27th of June, but 
 his lordship suggested that it was a case for arbitra- 
 tion, which was agreed to. 
 
 The arbitration took place on the 4th of July, when 
 
3M EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 Cagliostro's lawyer deserted him, and the decision 
 was that the count had lost his case, and must pay all 
 costs. As if this was not bad enough, as he was 
 leaving the court he was arrested at the suit of one 
 Aylett, who had lodged a detainer against him for a 
 debt of ten pounds and upwards, by the name of 
 Melisa Cagliostro, otherwise Joseph Balsamo, which 
 debt he said was due to him from Balsamo, who had 
 employed him in 1772 to recover a debt from Dr. 
 Benamore. He got bail, but, as his money was get- 
 ting scarce, it was at the cost of ■ two soup-ladles, two 
 candlesticks, two salt-cellars, two pepper-castors, six 
 forks, six table spoons, nine knife handles with blades, 
 a pair of snuffers and stand, all of silver/ He had, 
 however, suffered six weeks' imprisonment, as he was 
 not liberated from the King's Bench till the 24th of 
 September, 1777. 
 
 In vain his friends endeavoured to stir him up to 
 commence actions for fraud and perjury against all 
 concerned, but either his cause was not just, or he 
 had had enough law to last him some time — and he 
 refused. He paid up his debts and left England, with 
 only fifty guineas and a few jewels in his possession. 
 
 Rightly or wrongly, he was connected with the 
 f Diamond Necklace ' affair, and suffered incarceration 
 in the Bastile. If he can be at all believed, the police 
 plundered him and his wife right royally. He says 
 he lost fifteen rouleaux, each containing fifty double 
 louis, sealed with his seal; one thousand two hundred 
 and thirty-three sequins (Venetian and Roman) : one 
 rouleau of twenty-four Spanish quadruples, sealed 
 also ; and forty-seven billets of one thousand livres 
 each on the Caisse d'Escompte. They also took 
 papers which were to him of inestimable value ; and, 
 
CAGLIOSTRO IN LONDON. Ub 
 
 as to diamonds and jewellery, he knew not what was 
 taken, besides plate, porcelain, and linen, etc. After 
 an examination, he was acquitted, but he had to leave 
 France, and came to London, where he lived in 
 Sloane Street. Here he became acquainted with 
 Lord George Gordon, and this acquaintance after- 
 wards cost him dearly, when he was arrested at Rome. 
 To show the intimacy between the two, I will quote 
 from the Public Advertiser of the 22nd of August, 
 1786, p. 2, col. 3. 
 
 ' M. Barthelemy, who conducts the affairs of France 
 in the absence of Comte Dazimer, having sent M. 
 Daragon with a message to Comte de Cagliostro, 
 in Sloane Street, intimating that he had received 
 orders from the Court of Versailles to communicate 
 to Comte de Cagliostro that he now had permission 
 to return to France ; yesterday morning, the Comte, 
 accompanied by Lord George Gordon and M. Ber- 
 geret de Frouville, waited upon M. Barthelemy at 
 the " Hotel of France," in Piccadilly, for an eclaire- 
 issement upon the subject of this message from 
 the Court of France, delivered by M. Barthelemy, 
 relative to the permission granted to the Comte de 
 Cagliostro to return to Paris. M. Barthelemy, the 
 Comte de Cambise, and M. Daragon seemed much 
 surprised to see Comte de Cagliostro arrive in Lord 
 George Gordon's coach, with his Lordship, and M. 
 Frouville, and, having expressed their desire that 
 the Comte de Cagliostro alone should speak with M. 
 Barthelemy, they were informed that Lord Gordon 
 and M. Bergeret de Frouville were there on purpose 
 to attend their friend, and that Comte de Cagliostro 
 would not dispense with Lord George Gordon's ab- 
 sence from the Conference. Will any friend to liberty 
 
346 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 blame Comte de Cagliostro, after ten months' im- 
 prisonment in a dungeon, for having his friends near 
 him, when insidious proposals are made to him by 
 the faction of Breteuil and the supporters of the 
 Bastile ? Men who have already sought his destruc- 
 tion, and, after his innocence was declared by the 
 judgment of the Parliament of Paris, embezzled a 
 great part of his fortune, and exiled him from France? 
 M. Barthelemy (seeing the determination of the 
 Comte's friends) then read the letter from M. Bre- 
 teuil; but, upon the Comte de Cagliostro desiring 
 a copy, M. Barthelemy refused it. A great deal of 
 conversation then ensued upon the subject, which 
 in all probability will give rise to a full representa- 
 tion to the King of France, who is certainly very 
 much imposed on. The Queen's party is still violent 
 against Comte de Cagliostro, the friend of mankind ; 
 and De Breteuil — le Sieur De Launey — Titon — De 
 Brunieres — Maitre Chesnon — Barthelemy and Dazi- 
 mer are mere instruments of that faction. The hon- 
 our of the King of France, the justice and judgment 
 of the Parliament of Paris, the good faith of the 
 Citizens, and the good name of the nation, are all 
 attainted by the pillage and detention of the pro- 
 perty of Comte de Cagliostro.' 
 
 And again, in the same paper, 24th of August, 1786, 
 p. 2, col. 3, is another paragraph respecting him : 
 
 ' Comte de Cagliostro has declared he will hold no 
 intercourse with any of Le Sieur Breteuil's mes- 
 sengers from France, except in the presence of Lord 
 George Gordon. The gang of French spies in Lon- 
 don, who are linked in with M. de Morande, and 
 the Sieurs Barthelemy, Dazimer, Cambise, and the 
 Queen's Bastile party at Paris, are trying the most 
 
CAGLIOSTRO IN LONDON. 347 
 
 insiduous arts to entrap the Comte and Comtesse, 
 and have the effrontery and audaciousness to perse- 
 cute them publicly, and vilify them even in this free 
 country, where these noble Strangers are come to 
 seek protection in the arms of a generous people. 
 The friendship and benevolence of Comte de Caglios- 
 tro, in advising the poor Prince Louis de Rohan to 
 be upon his guard against the Comtesse de Valois, 
 and the intrigues of the Queen's faction, (who still 
 seek the destruction of that noble Prince) has brought 
 upon the Comte and his amiable Comtesse the hate- 
 ful revenge of a tyrannical Government. The 
 story of the Diamonds has never been properly 
 explained to the Public in France. It would dis- 
 cover too much of the base arts practised to destroy 
 Prince Louis, and involve in guilt persons not safe 
 to name in an arbitrary kingdom.' 
 
 This airing of private grief in public extorted some 
 strictures in a letter in the Morning Post, of 29th 
 of August, 1786, in which it was suggested, gener- 
 ally, that foreigners should wash their dirty linen at 
 home. But Monsieur de Morande, editor of the 
 Courier de V Europe, published many assertions, be 
 they facts, or fiction, relative to Cagliostro, and he 
 once more blossomed out into print in his old 
 champion, the Public Advertiser (vide that news- 
 paper, 5th of September, 1786, p. 2. col. 1), translated 
 in the number of 7th September. In this curious 
 letter, he adverts to his adversaries' slanders, and the 
 following singular passages occur : 
 
 ' Of all the very good stories which you relate at 
 my expense, the best, without comparison, is that of 
 the pig fed with arsenic, which poisoned the lions, 
 tygers, and leopards of the forests of Medina. I am 
 
348 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 going, Mr. Railer, to give you an opportunity of 
 being witty on a perfect comprehension of the fact. 
 You know that, in physics and chymistry, reasoning 
 proves but little, ridicule nothing, and that experi- 
 ment is all. Permit me, then, to propose a small 
 experiment to you, of which the issue will divert the 
 public, either at your expense, or mine. I invite you 
 to breakfast with me on the 9th of November next, 
 at nine o'clock in the morning. You shall furnish 
 the wine, and the appendages. For myself, I shall only 
 furnish a single dish, after my own fashion — it shall 
 be a sucking pig, fattened after my method. Two 
 hours before breakfast, 1 shall present you the pig 
 alive, fat and healthy. You shall order it to be 
 killed as you please, and prepared, and I shall not 
 approach until it is served at the table. l r ou shall 
 cut it into four equal parts, you shall chuse that which 
 most flatters your appetite, and I shall take that 
 which you please. The day after that of our break- 
 fast, one or more of four things will happen. Either 
 both of us shall die, or we neither of us shall die, 
 or you shall die and I survive, or I shall die and you 
 survive. Of theso four chances I give you three, 
 and I bet you 5000 guineas, that, on the day after 
 our breakfast, you shall die, and I be perfectly well. 
 You must either accept of this Challenge, or acknow- 
 ledge that you are an ignorant fellow, and that yon 
 have foolishly ridiculed a thing which is totally out 
 of your knowledge, 
 
 * If you accept of this Challenge, I shall instantly 
 deposit the 5000 guineas with any banker that you 
 please. You shall do the same in five days, during 
 which time you shall have leave to make your sup- 
 porters Contribute,' &c. 
 
CAGLIOSTRO IN LONDON. 34<> 
 
 Monsieur de Morande's reply was published im- 
 mediately following the above letter. It is, like 
 Cagliostro's, too long for insertion ; but its gist is, 
 that he intends to unmask the pretender, and that he 
 utterly declines to attend a poisoning match. He 
 writes : 
 
 * I solemnly defy you to contradict them ' (i.e., his 
 assertions as to Cagliostro's quackeries and adven- 
 tures) ; * and that I even offer, without croupiers or 
 supporters, to make you another wager of five thou- 
 sand guineas that I shall compleatly unmask you. 
 
 ' But, Monsieur le Comte, I shall not put my foot in 
 your house, and shall not breakfast with you myself. 
 I am neither abject enough to keep you company, nor 
 will let it be suspected for a single moment. 
 
 * You clearly conceive that such an interview ought 
 not, nor can be, within your doors ; you would be 
 liable to be found guilty of criminal practises, in case 
 of accident. This your Council had not foreseen. 
 
 * As no tavern would permit such infamous scenes 
 to pass under its roof as those you propose, you must, 
 Monsieur le Comte, return once more to the booth ; 
 and worthy disciple of Locusta, 1 choose in London 
 a public place to make an open-air exhibition of your 
 talents.' 
 
 And like the scorpion, which carries its sting in its 
 tail, he adds a foot-note, which refers to the heading 
 of his letter : 
 
 i M. de Morande's Answer to Don Joseph Balsamo> 
 
 1 Locusta, or, more correctly, Lucusta, was a celebrated poisoner. 
 She was employed by Aggripina to poison the Emperor Claudius, 
 and by Nero to kill Britannicus. For this she was most hand- 
 somely rewarded by Nero ; but was executed for her crimes by 
 Galba. 
 
350 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 self-created Count of Cagliostro, Colonel in the Service 
 of all the Sovereign Powers in Europe' 
 
 1 If it was not the case, it would be very singular 
 to have seen, in the year 1777, M. Cagliostro calling 
 himself in England Colonel of the Third Regiment of 
 Brandenbourg, and, afterwards, in Eussia, Colonel in 
 the Spanish Service ; for which, however, he was re- 
 primanded by the magistrates of Petersburgh. Having 
 forgot to take his Commission with him, he could not 
 exhibit proofs, and was obliged to put down his regi- 
 mentals. This check on his conduct made him 
 abscond from Petersburgh. Every Russian nobleman 
 in London knows this anecdote, and, without presum- 
 ing to mention names, we trust that this will be found 
 to be the case upon enquiry/ 
 
 To this letter Cagliostro replied with another in the 
 Public Advertiser (p. 2, col. 1) of September 9, 1786, 
 in which he repeats his challenge, and declines to sit 
 down to breakfast with a carnivorous animal. 
 
 De Morande, of course, could not be silent, and 
 replied in the Public Advertiser (p. 2, col. 1) of 
 September 12, 1786. He reiterated the charges he 
 made against Cagliostro in the Courier de V Europe, 
 saying, among other things, ' I have said that you 
 were in England in the year 1771, under the name of 
 Balsamo, and that you were then a needy, as well as 
 a very indifferent painter; that twenty persons, at 
 least, are ready to prove it. You take no notice of 
 this second assertion, which becomes serious, by the 
 oath you have taken under that name, of which I have a 
 legal copy in my possession. 
 
 * I have said that you have made your appearance 
 under another name, THAT OF Cagliostro, in the 
 year 1777. I have several affidavits, amongst which 
 
CAGL10STR0 IN LONDON. 351 
 
 there are some of your own, which authenticate very 
 curious anecdotes concerning you ; to this you have 
 replied nothing. 
 
 * I have said that you falsely pretended then to be a 
 Colonel of the third regiment of Brandenbourg ; that 
 you had, at that time, a law-suit in the Court of 
 Queen's Bench, about a certain necklace, and a gold 
 snuff-box, which you asserted to have been given 
 Madame la Comtesse, but which you were obliged to 
 return, and pay all Costs, on the Clear proofs given 
 by your adverse party, that you obtained them under 
 false pretences. No reply has been made to this. 
 
 * I have added that, were you curious to try the 
 same experiment now, a new Act of Parliament, which 
 you and your fellow-adventurers have rendered very 
 necessary, would certainly have caused you to be sent 
 to the Thames. 1 To that direct and very clear 
 observation you have not replied a single word. 
 
 * I have said that you were ordered by the Police in 
 Russia, not to presume to take the name of a Colonel 
 in the Spanish service, and to strip off your Spanish 
 regimentals. I have given you an opportunity to 
 vindicate yourself, by giving to understand, that 
 there is not a Russian nobleman in London who 
 would not certify this fact. I might have added that 
 I have in my possession the most respectable authority 
 to say so. What have you said in reply to this ? 
 
 ' I have roundly asserted that I am in possession of 
 proofs, that you are an impostor under every possible 
 denomination ; that you have not only no pretension 
 
 1 i.e., to serve on the convict hulks there, to dredge the Thames. 
 The treatment on board was based on good principles ; those con- 
 victs who were well-behaved had remission of sentence, those 
 who were recalcitrant had unmerciful punishment. 
 
352 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. 
 
 to any title, but not even to the rank of a sergeant. 
 Shall this remain likewise unanswered ? 
 
 'I am sorry to be obliged once more to name 
 Mess rs - B. & C. Bankers, to prove that your preten- 
 sions to lay a wager of 5000 guineas, are as well 
 grounded as your pretensions to the title of a Count, 
 or an A Ichemist, It is a fact, that you humbly offered 
 to pledge in their hands the watch, of which the too 
 long, and too much, deluded Cardinal de Rohan made 
 you a present. It is likewise a fact that they disdain- 
 fully refused it. Your proposing, after this, a wager 
 of 5000 guineas is probably no more than a new pre- 
 tence to obtain credit, as you have formerly (in 
 pretending to make great quantities of gold) obtain- 
 ed small sums, and little diamonds to make larger, 
 which you afterwards declared had been given to 
 Madame la Comtesse. Those proofs, I repeat to you, 
 are in my possession; they are all fully authenticated, 
 and I will make good every one of my assertions/ 
 And he winds up his letter with expressing ' the satis- 
 faction I feel in having furnished the world with 
 sufficient proofs to convince them that you are 
 
 THE GREATEST IMPOSTOR OF THIS OR ANY OTHER AGE.' 
 
 This ended the correspondence, for the general 
 public were beginning to meddle in it, and the editor 
 of the Public Advertiser would only open his pages 
 to the principals in this duel. This finished Caglios- 
 tro's career in England. He had tried to sell his 
 quack medicines, his Egyptian pills, but the charm 
 was broken, and he quitted England for the Conti- 
 nent in May, 1787, leaving his wife behind, with 
 sufficient means, under the guardianship of the De 
 
CAGLIOSTRO IN LONDON. 353 
 
 Loutherbourgs. She afterwards sold all up, and 
 joined him in June. 
 
 By this time his good genius had forsaken him, and 
 for teaching freemasonry, then even more repugnant 
 to the Roman Catholic hierarchy than at present, he 
 was arrested, and imprisoned in the Castle of St. 
 Angelo, November 27, 1789. He never again enjoy- 
 ed freedom, but was found dead in his cell at St. Leo. 
 Even the date of his death is uncertain, most authori- 
 ties giving 1795; but some say 1794 and 1797. His 
 wife, too, shared his fate; she was convicted of 
 sorcery and witchcraft, and was shut up in a convent, 
 where she died in 1794. 
 
 His portraits represent him as by no means bad- 
 looking, although the full eye, the puffed cheeks, and 
 weak mouth betray a sensuality of feeling. 
 
 THE END, 
 
 LONDON : PRINTED BY DUNCAN MACDONALD, BLENHEIM HOUSE. 
 
a~ 
 
 ■a 
 
 HURST & BLACKETTS 
 
 LIST OF NEW WORKS. 
 
 LONDON: 
 18, GREAT MAKLBOKOUGH STREET, W. 
 
 4- 
 
 s> 
 
13, Great Marlborough Street, London. 
 
 MESSRS. HURST AND BLACKETT'S 
 
 LIST OF NEW WORKS. 
 
 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WAIFS. By John 
 
 Ashton, Author of ' Social Life in the Reign of Queen Anne,' &c. 
 
 1 vol. imperial 8vo. 12s. 
 
 CONTENTS : A Forgotten Fanatic— A Fashionable Lady's Life— George Barring- 
 ton— Milton's Bones— The True Story of Eugene Aram— Redemptioners— A 
 Trip to Richmond in Surrey— George Robert Fitzgerald— Eighteenth Century 
 Amazons — 'The Times' and its Founder— Imprisonment for Debt— Jonas 
 Hanway— A Holy Voyage to Ramsgate One Hundred Years Ago— Quacks of 
 the Century — Cagliostro in London. 
 
 SHIKAR SKETCHES: With Notes on Indian 
 
 Field Sports. By J. Moray Brown, late 79th Cameron High- 
 landers. With Eight Illustrations, by J. C. Dollman, R.I. 1 vol. 
 imperial 8vo. 12s. 
 
 CHAPTERS FROM FAMILY CHESTS. By 
 
 Edward Walford, M.A., Author of 'The County Families, ' &c. 
 
 2 vols, crown 8vo. 21s. 
 
 "There is a mine of wealth in the 'Family Chests' which no one has yet 
 brought to the surface, and from this Mr. Walford has contrived to excavate a 
 mass of acceptable matter — a treasury of narrative curious and romantic." — Globe. 
 
 " The reader will find much curious information in Mr. Walford's chapters of 
 agreeable narrative." — Scotsman. 
 
 REMINISCENCES OF THE COURT AND 
 
 TIMES OF KING ERNEST OF HANOVER. By the Rev. C. 
 
 A. Wilkinson, M.A., His Majesty's Resident Domestic Chaplain. 
 
 2 vols. With portrait of the King. 21s. 
 " An interesting book, entitled ' Reminiscences of the Court and Times of King 
 Ernest of Hanover,' has just been published by Messrs. Hurst and Blackett. The 
 two volumes in which these reminiscences of a septuagenarian are comprised 
 abound in characteristic stories of the old king, in anecdotes of many celebrities 
 English and foreign, of the early part of this century, and, indeed, of all kinds and 
 conditions of men and women with whom the author was brought in contact by 
 his courtly or pastorial office." — St. James's Gazette. 
 
 THE EGYPTIAN CAMPAIGNS, 1882 to 1885, 
 
 and the Events which led to them. By Charles Rotle, 
 
 Barrister- at-Law, of Alexandria. 2 vols, demy 8vo. Illustrated 
 
 by Maps and Plans. 30s. 
 
 " Mr. Royle has done well in the interests of historical completeness to describe 
 
 not only the entire military drama, but also the political events connected with 
 
 it, and whoever reads the book with care has gone a considerable way towards 
 
 mastering the difficult Egyptian question." — Athenaeum. 
 
 "The Egyptian fiasco has found in Mr. Royle a most painstaking, accurate, and 
 judicious historian. From a literary point of view his volumes may be thought to 
 contain too many unimportant incidents, yet their presence was necessary per- 
 haps, in a complete record, and the most fastidious reader will unhesitatingly ac- 
 quit Mr. Royle of filling his pages with anything that can be called padding."— St. 
 James's Gazette. 
 
MESSRS. HURST AND BLACKETT'S 
 
 NEW WORKS— Co ntinued. 
 
 THE PALACE AND THE HOSPITAL; or, 
 
 Chronicles of Greenwich. By the Kev. A. G. L'Estrange, 
 
 Author of 4 The Village of Palaces,' ' The Friendships of Mary- 
 Russell Mitford,' &c. 2 vols, crown 8vo. With Illustrations. 2ls. 
 " Mr. L'Estrange has provided for those who have a taste for topography, or 
 rather for the historical and biographical annals of a locality famous in his- 
 tory, two volumes which are rich in romantic interest, and his pages abound in 
 curious and interesting glimpses of old manners ''—Daily News. 
 
 THE REAL SHELLEY: New Views of the Poet's 
 
 Life. By John Cordt Jeaffreson, Author of " The Real Lord 
 
 Byron," " A Book about Doctors," " A Book about Lawyers," &c 
 
 2 vols, demy 8vo. 30s. 
 
 "Those who have read Mr. Jeaffreson's account of Byron will be prepared to 
 
 find that impartiality is the distinguishing feature of his endeavour to clear away 
 
 the fancies and misconceptions which have been given to the world in some of 
 
 the biographies of Shelley, and they will not be disappointed. The author has 
 
 striven to ascertain, fairly and fully, the truth concerning a poet whose influence, 
 
 while it has been greatly exaggerated by his most enthusiastic admirers, is still a 
 
 living factor in the life of many."— Morning Post. 
 
 THE FRIENDSHIPS OF MARY RUSSELL 
 
 MITFORD: As Recorded in Letters from her Literary 
 Correspondents. Edited by the Rev. A. G. L'Estrange, 
 Editor of " The Life of Mary Russell Mitford," &c. 2 vols. 21s. 
 "These letters are all written as to one whom the writers love and revere. Misa 
 Barrett is one of Miss Mitford's correspondents, all of whom seem to be inspired 
 with a sense of excellence in the mind they are invoking. Their letters are ex- 
 tremely interesting, and they strike out recollections, opinions, criticisms, which 
 will hold the reader's delighted and serious attention." — Daily Telegraph 
 
 THE BRONTE FAMILY, With Special Reference 
 
 to Patrick Branwell Bronte. By Francis A. Lei land. 2 
 vols. 21s. 
 " This book is so full of interesting information that as a contribution to liter- 
 ary biography it may be considered a real success." — Academy. 
 
 " Mr. Leyland's book is earnest and accurate, and he has spared no pains to 
 master his subject and present it with clearness; the book is valuable, and should 
 be read by all who are familiar with the previous works on the family." — Graphic . 
 
 MEMOIRS OF A CAMBRIDGE CHORISTER. 
 
 By William: Glover. 2 vols, crown 8vo. 21s. 
 
 "In these amusing volumes Mr. Glover provides us with the means of spending 
 a pleasant hour or two in his company." — Times. 
 
 " These volumes contain a miscellaneous set of reminiscences, comments, and 
 anecdotes, written in a light and jocular style. Mr. Glover is always cheerful 
 and never didactic." — Athenamm. 
 
 WITHOUT GOD: Negative Science and Natural 
 
 Ethics. By Perct Greg, Author of "The Devil's Advocate," 
 
 "Across the Zodiac," &c. 1 vol. demy 8vo. 12s. 
 
 " Mr. Greg has condensed much profound thought into his book, and has fully 
 
 succeeded in maintaining the interest of the discussion throughout."— Morning Post. 
 
 " This work is ably written ; there are in it many passages of no ordinary power 
 
 and brilliancy. It is eminently suggestive and stimulating." — Scotsman, 
 
 FOOTSTEPS OF JEANNE D'ARC. A Pilgrimage. 
 
 By Mrs. Florence Caddy. 1 vol. demy 8 vo. With Map of Route. 15s. 
 "The reader, whatever his preconceived notions of the maid may have been, 
 will soon find himself in sympathy with a writer who, by tbe charm of her de- 
 scriptive style, at once arrests his attention and sustains the interest of her 
 subject." — Morning Post. 
 
 2 
 
MESSRS. HURST AND BLACKETT'S 
 NEW WORKS— Continued. 
 
 THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF PEG 
 
 WOFFINGTON : With Pictures of the Period in which She 
 
 Lived. By J. Fitzgerald Molloy, Author of M Court Life 
 
 Below Stairs," &c. Second Edition. 2 vols, crown 8vo. With 
 
 Portrait. 21s. 
 
 "Peg Woffington makes a most interesting central figure, round which Mr. 
 
 Molloy has made to revolve a varied and picturesque panorama of London life in 
 
 the middle of the eighteenth century. He sees things in the past so clearly, grasps 
 
 them so tenaciously, and reproduces them so vividly, that they come to us without 
 
 any of the dust and rust of time."— Or. A. S. in Illustrated London News. 
 
 WOMEN OF EUROPE IN THE FIFTEENTH 
 
 AND SIXTEENTH CENTURIES. By Mrs. Napier Higgins. 
 Vols. 1 and 2 demy 8vo. 30s. 
 " The work is likely to be of permanent value to the students of history." — 
 Morning Post. 
 
 ON THE TRACK OF THE ORESCENT: Erratic 
 
 Notes from the Piraeus to Pesth. By Major E. C. Johnson, 
 M.A.I., F. R. Hist. S., etc. With Map and Upwards of 50 Illus- 
 trations by the Author. 1 vol. demy 8vo. 15s. 
 "The author of this bright, pleasant volume possesses keen power of observa- 
 tion and vivid appreciation of animate and inanimate beauty. It will brighten 
 hours for many readers who will only follow the track of the Crescent through its. 
 pages and its numerous illustrations." — Morning Post. 
 
 MEMOIRS OF MARSHAL BUGEAUD, From 
 
 His Private Correspondence and Original Documents, 1784 — 
 1849. By the Count H. dTdeville. Edited, from the French, 
 by Charlotte M. Yonge. 2 vols, demy 8vo. 30s. 
 " This is a work of great value to the student of French history. A perusal of 
 the book will convince any reader of Bugeaud's energy, his patriotism, his un- 
 selfishness, and his philanthropy and humanity." — Athenaeum. 
 
 GLIMPSES OF GREEK LIFE AND SCENERY. 
 
 By Agnes Smith, Author of " Eastern Pilgrims," &c. Demy 8vo. 
 With Illustrations and Map of the Author's Route. 15s. 
 "A truthful picture of the country through which the author travelled. It is 
 naturally and simply told, in an agreeable and animated style. Miss Smith dis- 
 plays an ample acquaintance and sympathy with all the scenes of historic interest." 
 — St. James's Gazette. 
 
 MONSIEUR GUIZOT in Private Life (1787- 
 
 1874). By His Daughter, Madame de Witt. Translated by Mrs. 
 
 Simpson. 1 vol. demy 8vo. 15s. 
 "Madame de Witt has done justice to her father's memory in an admirable re- 
 cord of his life. Mrs. Simpson's translation of this singularly interesting book is 
 in accuracy and grace worthy of the original and of the subject."— Saturday Review. 
 
 PLAIN SPEAKING. By Author of " John Halifax, 
 
 Gentleman." 1 vol. crown 8vo. 10s. 6d. 
 "We recommend 'Plain Speaking' to all who like amusing, wholesome, and 
 instructive reading. The contents of Mrs. Craik's volume are of the moBt multi- 
 farious kind, but all the papers are good ,and readable, and one at least of them 
 of real importance."— St. James's Gazette. 
 
 WORDS OF HOPE AND COMFORT TO 
 
 THOSE IN SORROW. Dedicated by Permission to The Queen 
 Fourth Edition. 1 vol. small 4to. 5s. 
 
Published annually, in One Vol., royal 8vo, with the Arms beautifully 
 engraved, handsomely bound, with gilt edges, price 31s. 6c?. 
 
 LODGE'S PEERAGE 
 
 AND BARONETAGE, 
 
 CORRECTED BY THE NOBILITY. 
 FIFTY-SI XTH EDITIO N FOR 1887. 
 
 Lodge's Peerage and Baronetage is acknowledged to be the most 
 complete, as well as the most elegant, work of the kind. As an esta- 
 blished and authentic authority on all questions respecting the family 
 histories, honours, and connections of the titled aristocracy, no work has 
 ever stood so high. It is published under the especial patronage of Her 
 Majesty, and is annually corrected throughout, from the personal com- 
 munications of the Nobility. It is the only work of its class in which, the 
 type being kept constantly standing, every correction is made in its proper 
 place to the date of publication, an advantage which gives it supremacy 
 over all its competitors. Independently of its full and authentic informa- 
 tion respecting the existing Peers and Baronets of the realm, the most 
 sedulous attention is given in its pages to the collateral branches of the 
 various noble families, and the names of many thousand individuals are 
 introduced, which do not appear in other records of the titled classes. For 
 its authority, correctness, and facility of arrangement, and the beauty of 
 its typography and binding, the work is justly entitled to the place it 
 occupies on the tables of Her Majesty and the Nobility. 
 
 LIST OF THE PRINCIPAL CONTENTS. 
 
 Historical View of the Peerage. 
 
 Parliamentary Roll of the House of Lords. 
 
 English, Scotch, and Irish Peers, in their 
 orders of Precedence. 
 
 Alphabetical List of Peers of Great Britain 
 and the United Kingdom, holding supe- 
 rior rank in the Scotch or Irish Peerage. 
 
 Alphabetical liBt of Scotch and Irish Peers, 
 holding superior titles in the Peerage of 
 Great Britain and the United Kingdom. 
 
 A Collective list of Peers, in their order of 
 Precedence. 
 
 Table of Precedency among Men. 
 
 Table of Precedency among Women. 
 
 The Queen and the Royal Family. 
 
 Peers of the Blood Royal. 
 
 The Peerage, alphabetically arranged. 
 
 Families of such Extinct Peers as have left 
 Widows or Issue. 
 
 Alphabetical List of the Surnames of all the 
 Peers. 
 
 The Archbishops and Bishops of England 
 and Ireland. 
 
 The Baronetage alphabetically arranged. 
 
 Alphabetical List of Surnames assumed by 
 members of Noble Families. 
 
 Alphabetical List of the Second Titles of 
 Peers, usually borne by their Eldest 
 Sons. 
 
 Alphabetical Index to the Daughters of 
 Dukes, Marquises, and Earls, who, hav- 
 ing married Commoners, retain the title 
 of Lady before their own Christian and 
 their Husband's Surnames. 
 
 Alphabetical Index to the Daughters of 
 Viscounts and Barons, who, having 
 married Commoners, are Btyled Honour- 
 able Mrs. ; and, in case of the husband 
 being a Baronet or Knight, Hon. Lady. 
 
 A List of the Orders of Knighthood. 
 
 Mottoes alphabetically arranged and trans- 
 lated. 
 
 " This work is the moBt perfect and elaborate record of the living and recently de- 
 ceased members of the Peerage of the Three Kingdoms as it stands at this day. It is 
 a most useful publication. We are happy to bear testimony to the fact that scrupulous 
 accuracy iB a distinguishing feature of this book." — Times. 
 
 "Lodge's Peerage must supersede all other works of the kind, for two reasons: first, it 
 is on a better plan ; and secondly, it is better executed. We can safely pronounce it to be 
 the readiest, the most useful, and exactest of modern works on the subject" — Spectator: 
 
 "A work of great value. It is the most faithful record we possess of the aristo- 
 cracy of the day."— Post. 
 
 4 
 
EDNA LYALL'S NOVELS 
 
 EACH IN ONE VOLUME CKOWN Svo, 6s. 
 
 DONOVAN: 
 
 A MODEEN ENGLISHMAN. 
 
 "This is a very admirable work. The reader is from the first carried away by the 
 gallant unconventionality of its author. 'Donovan 'is a very excellent novel; but it is- 
 something more and better. It should do as much good as the best sermon ever written 
 or delivered extempore. The story is told with a grand simplicity, an unconscious poetry 
 of eloquence which stirs the very depths of the heart. One of the main excellencies of 
 thiB novel is the delicacy of touch with which the author shows her most delightful char- 
 acters to be after all human beings, and not angels before their time." — Standard. 
 
 " 'Donovan' is told with the power of truth, experience, and moral insight. The tone 
 of the novel is excellent and very high." — Daily News. 
 
 WE T"WO. 
 
 " This book is well written and full of interest. The story abounds with a good many 
 light touches, and is certainly far from lacking in incident." — Times. 
 
 "' We Two ' contains many very exciting passages and a great deal of information. 
 Miss Lyall is a capable writer and a clear-headed thinker."— Athenceum. 
 
 " A work of deep thought and much power. Serious as it is, it is now and then bright- 
 ened by rays of genuine humour. Altogether this story is more and better than a novel." 
 —Morning Post. 
 
 " There is artistic realism both in the conception and the delineation of the personages; 
 the action and interest are unflaggingly sustained from first to last, and the book is per- 
 vaded by an atmosphere of elevated, earnest thought."— Scotsman. 
 
 IN THE GOLDEN DAYS. 
 
 "Miss Lyall has given us a vigorous study of such life and character as are really worth 
 reading about The central figure of her story is Algernon Sydney ; and this figure she 
 invests with a singular dignity and power. He alwavs appears with effect, but no liber- 
 ties are taken with the facts of his life. The plot is adapted with great felicity to them. 
 His part in it, absolutely consistent as it is with historical truth, gives it reality as well as 
 dignity. Some of the scenes are remarkably vivid. The escape is an admirable narra- 
 tive, which almost makes one hold one's breath as one reads." — Spectator. 
 
 " ' In the Golden Days * is an excellent novel of a kind we are always particularly glad 
 to recommend. It has a good foundation of plot and incident, a thoroughly noble and 
 wholesome motive, a hero who really acts and suffers heroically, and two very nice 
 heroines. The historical background is very carefully indicated, but is never allowed to 
 become more than background."— Guardian. 
 
 WON BY WAITING. 
 
 "The Dean's daughters are perfectly real characters — the learned Cornelia especially ; 
 — the little impulsive French heroine, who endures their cold hospitality and at last wins 
 their affection, is thoroughly charming ; while throughout the book there runs a golden 
 thread of pure brotherly and sisterly love, which pleasantly reminds us that the making 
 and marring of marriage is not, after all, the sum total of real life." — Academy. 
 
 " * Won by Waiting ' is a very pleasing and well-written tale ; full of graphic descrip- 
 tions of French and English life, with incidents and characters well sustained. A book 
 with such pleasant reading, and with such a healthy tone and influence, is a great boon 
 to the young people in our families."— Freeman. 
 
SIX-SHILLING NOVELS 
 
 EACH IN ONE VOLUME CROWN 8vo. 
 
 HIS LITTLE MOTHER. 
 
 By the Author of "John Halifax, Gentleman." 
 
 " • His Little Mother ' is one of those pathetic stories which the author tells better 
 than anybody else." — John Bull. 
 
 "This book is written with all Mrs. Craik's grace of style, the chief charm of which, 
 after all, is its simplicity." — Glasgow Herald. 
 
 MY LORD AND MY LADY. 
 By Mrs. Forrester. 
 
 "A very capital novel. The great charm about it is that Mrs. Forrester is quite at home 
 in the society which she describes. It is a book to read." — Standard. 
 
 " Mrs. Forrester's style is so fresh and graphic that the reader is kept under its spell 
 from first to last." — Morning Post. 
 
 S O E EC Y. 
 
 By Violet Fane. 
 
 " ' Sophy ' is the clever and original work of a clever woman. Its merits are of a strik- 
 ingly unusual kind. It is charged throughout with the strongest human interest. It is, 
 in a word, a novel that will make its mark" — World. 
 
 A HOUSE EARTY. 
 
 By Ouida. 
 
 " ' A House Party ' will be read, firstly, because it is Ouida's, and, secondly, because of 
 the brightness of the conversations and descriptions. It is indeed more like a comedy 
 than any other of the writer's books."— Globe. 
 
 OMNIA ^ANITAS. 
 By Mrs. Forrester. 
 
 " This book is pleasant and well meant. Here and there are some good touches. Sir 
 Ralph is a man worth reading about." — Academy. 
 
 " This tale is well and cleverly written ; the characters are drawn and sustained with 
 considerable power, and the conversation is always bright and lively."— Glasgow Herald 
 
 BETRAYAL OE REUBEN HOLT. 
 
 By Barbara Lake. 
 
 " This novel shows considerable power of writing. There are some striking scenes and 
 incidents. ' '—Scotsman. 
 
 "This tale displays elevation of thought and feeling, united to no little grace of 
 expression."— Post. 
 
 THE BEANDEETHS. 
 By the Right Hon. A. J. B. Beresford Hope, M.P. 
 
 " The great attraction of this novel is the easy, conversational, knowledgeable tone of 
 it; the sketching from the life, and yet not so close to the life as to be malicious, men, 
 women, periods, and events, to all of which intelligent readers can fit a name. The 
 political and social sketches will naturally excite the chief interest among readers who 
 will be attracted by the author's name and experience."— Spectator. 
 
THE NEW AND POPULAR NOVELS. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY HURST & BLACKETT. 
 
 ST. BRIAVELS. By Mary Deane, Author of 
 
 " Quatrefoil," &c. 3 vols. 
 
 " The authoress throughout writes with moderation and consistency, and her 
 three ample volumes well repay perusal." — Daily Telegraph. 
 
 " 4 St. Briavels ' is a story replete with variety, and in all developments of her 
 plot the author skilfully maintains an unabated interest." — Morning Post. 
 
 A LILY MAID. By William George Waters. 
 
 3 vols. 
 " A story of the keenest interest. Mr. Waters' plot is neat, and his style is 
 bright and pleasing." — Daily Telegraph. 
 " 'A Lily Maid ' is throughout exceedingly pleasant reading." — Morning Post. 
 
 LIKE LUCIFER. By Denzil Vane. 3 vols. 
 
 "There is some pleasant writing in 'Like Lucifer,' and the plot is workman- 
 like." — Academy. 
 
 "Denzil Vane has a talent for lively, fluent writing, and a power of tracing 
 character." — Whitehall Review. 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF THE GODS. By Jane 
 
 Stanley. 2 vols. 
 " ■ A Daughter of the Gods ' is very pretty. That is a description which speci- 
 ally suits the easy-flowing, love-making story." — Athenceum. 
 
 LUCIA. By Mrs. Augustus Craven, Author of 
 
 " A Sister's Story." Translated by Lady Herbert of Lea. 2 vols. 
 
 " This is a very pretty, touching, and consoling story. The tale is as much above 
 the ordinary romance as the fresh air of the seaside is better than the stifling at- 
 mosphere of the fashionable quarter of the gayest city."— St. James's Gazette, 
 
 " ' Lucia ' is as good a novel as has been published for a long time."— Academy. 
 
 LOVE, THE PILGRIM. By May Crommelin, 
 
 Author of " Queenie," " A Jewel of a Girl," <fec. 3 vols. 
 " ' Love, the Pilgrim ' is a pretty story, which, beginning quietly, develops into 
 one of very sensational incident indeed." — Graphic. 
 " A tale of thrilling interest." — Scotsman. 
 
 THE KING CAN DO NO WRONG. By Pamela 
 
 Sneyd, Author of " Jack Urquhart's Daughter." 2 vols. 
 
 " This novel gives evidence of imagination, insight into character, and power of 
 delineation."— Athenceum. 
 
 " Shows command of exceptional narrative and descriptive power— the story is 
 told with cleverness and force." — Scotsman. 
 
 THE COURTING OF MARY SMITH. By F. W. 
 
 Robinson, Author of " Grandmother's Money," " No Church," &c. 
 3 vols. 
 " One of the finest studies that any of our novelists has produced of late years. 
 To read such a book is to strengthen the soul with a moral tonic."— Athenceum. 
 
 " The book is full of the truths and experiences of actual life, woven into a 
 romance by an undoubtedly clever novelist." — Morning Post. 
 
 THRO' LOVE AND WAR. By Violet Fane, 
 
 Author of " Sophy : or the Adventures of a Savage," &c. 3 vols. 
 " ' Thro' Love and War ' has a succinct and intelligible plot, and is written 
 with a quaint combination of acute perception, veiled sarcasm, and broad fun t 
 which is certain to ensure for it a wide popularity." — The World. 
 
THE NEW AND POPULAR NOVELS. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY HURST & BLACKETT. 
 
 PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF A LADY in 1814, 
 
 1815, 1816. By Hamilton Aide, Author of "Rita," "Penrud- 
 docke," " Poet and Peer," &c. 3 vols. 
 
 TILL MY WEDDING DAY. By a French Lady. 
 
 2 vols. 
 
 THE GREEN HILLS BY THE SEA: A Manx 
 
 Story. By Hugh Coleman Davidson. 3 vols. 
 
 VICTIMS. By Theo Gift, Author of " Pretty Miss 
 
 Belle w," " Lil Lorimer," &c. 3 vols. 
 
 THE BROKEN SEAL. By Dora Russell, Author 
 
 of " Footprints in the Snow," &c. 3 vols. 
 "Miss Dora Russell writes easily and well, and she has the gift of making her 
 characters describe themselves by their dialogue, which is bright and natural" — 
 Athenaeum. 
 
 MURIEL'S MARRIAGE. ByEsME Stuart, Author 
 
 of " A Faire Damzell," &c. 3 vols. 
 " Much of the interest and charm of the story, and both are considerable, are 
 due to the delineations, not merely of the two principal personages, but of the 
 minor characters." — Scotsman. 
 
 ONCE AGAIN. By Mrs. Forrester, Author of 
 
 "Viva," " Mignon," " My Lord and My Lady," &c. (Second Edition) 
 
 3 vols. 
 
 " A really fascinating story. Bright and often original as is Mrs. Forrester, her 
 peculiar gifts have never been seen to better advantage than in 'Once Again.' 
 An undercurrent of tragedy runs through this startling tale, and this, together 
 with its graphically drawn characters, sets it completely apart from the ordinary 
 society story." — Morning Post. 
 
 A WILFUL YOUNG WOMAN. By A. Price, 
 
 Author of " A Rustic Maid," " Who is Sylvia?" &c. 3 vols. 
 " A very readable story. Mrs. Price has drawn her dramatis personam with some 
 power and vigour." — Academy. 
 " The story is throughout both sound and high-principled." — Literary World. 
 
 THE SURVIVORS. By Henry Cresswell, Author 
 
 of " A Modern Greek Heroine," " Incognita," &c. 3 vols. 
 " There is cleverness in this book, and occasional brilliancy and wit"— Academy. 
 "An amusing comedy of modern life; there are some good situations and 
 striking episodes in the book." — Atfienseum. 
 
 A WICKED GIRL. By Mary Cecil Hay, Author 
 
 of " Old Myddelton's Money," &c. 3 vols. 
 
 "The author of 'Old Myddelton's Money 1 always manages to write interesting 
 stories.'' — Academy. 
 
 '• The story ' A Wicked Girl ' has an ingeniously carried out plot. Miss Hay is 
 a graceful writer, and her pathos is genuine." — Post. 
 
 THE WOOING OF CATHERINE. By E. Frances 
 
 Poynter, Author of " My Little Lady," &c. 2 vols. 
 "The figures are drawn with clear, bold strokes, each individual standing 
 before us with marked personality, while the backgrounds are effective and 
 striking." — Literary World. 
 
r 
 
 -a 
 
 HURST & BLACKETTS 
 
 STANDARD LIBRARY. 
 
 LONDON: 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET, W. 
 
 & 
 
HURST &BLACKETT'S STANDARD LIBRARY 
 
 OP CHEAP EDITIONS OP 
 
 POPULAR MODERN WORKS. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 
 Sir J. E. Millais, Sir J. Gilbert, Holman Hunt, Birket Foster, 
 
 John Leech, John Tenniel, J. Laslett Pott, etc. 
 
 Each in a Single Volume, with Frontispiece, price 5s. 
 
 I.— SAM SLICK'S NATURE AND HUMAN NATURE. 
 
 "The first volume of Messrs. Hurst and Blackett's Standard Library of Cheap Editions 
 forms a very good beginning to what will doubtless be a very successful undertaking. 
 'Nature and Human Nature ' is one of the best of Sam Slick's witty and humorous pro- 
 ductions, and well entitled to the large circulation which it cannot fail to obtain in ita 
 present convenient and cheap shape. The volume combines with the great recommenda- 
 tions of a clear, bold type and good paper, the lesser, but attractive merits of being well 
 illustrated and elegantly bound." — Morning Post. 
 
 II.— JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN. 
 
 "The new and cheaper edition of this interesting work will doubtless meet with great 
 success. John Halifax, the hero of this most beautiful story, is no ordinary hero, and 
 this his history is no ordinary book. It is a full-length portrait of a true gentleman, one 
 of nature's own nobility. It is also the history of a home, and a thoroughly English one. 
 The work abounds in incident, and many of the scenes are full of graphic power and true 
 pathos. It is a book that few will read without becoming wiser and better." — Scotsman. 
 
 " This Btory is very interesting. The attachment between John Halifax and his wife is 
 beautifully painted, as are the pictures of their domestic life, and the growing up of their 
 children; and the conclusion of the book is beautiful and touching."— Athenaeum. 
 
 III.— THE CRESCENT AND THE CROSS. 
 
 BY ELIOT WARBURTON. 
 
 "Independent of ita value as an original narrative, and ita useful and interesting 
 information, this work is remarkable for the colouring power and play of fancy with 
 which its descriptions are enlivened. Among its greatest and most lasting charms is its 
 reverent and serious spirit." — Quarterly Review. 
 
 " Mr. Warburton has fulfilled the promise of his title-page. The ' Realities of Eastern 
 Travel ' are described with a vividness which invests them with deep and abiding inter- 
 est; while the 'Romantic' adventures which the enterprising tourist met with in hia 
 course are narrated with a spirit which shows how much he enjoyed these reliefs from 
 the ennui of every-day life."— Globe. 
 
 IV.— NATHALIE. 
 
 BY JULIA KAVANAGH. 
 
 " 'Nathalie' is Misa Kavanagh's best imaginative effort. Ita manner is gracious and 
 attractive. Its matter is good. A aentiment, a tenderness, are commanded by her which 
 are as individual as they are elegant We should not soon come to an end were we to 
 specify all the delicate touches and attractive pictures which place ' Nathalie ' high amon& 
 books of its class."— Athenarum. 
 
 V.— A WOMAN'S THOUGHTS ABOUT WOMEN. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF "JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN." 
 
 "These thoughts are good and humane. They are thoughta we would wish women to 
 think : they are much more to the purpose than the treatises upon the women and daugh- 
 ters of England, which were fashionable some years ago, and these thoughts mark the 
 progress of opinion, and indicate & higher tone of character, and a juster estimate of 
 woman's position." — Athenseum. 
 
 " This excellent book is characterised by good sense, good taste, and feeling, and i.*» 
 written in an earnest, philanthropic, as well as practical spirit."— Morning Pest. 
 
HURST & BLACKETT'S STANDARD LIBRARY 
 
 VI.— ADAM GRAEME OF MOSSGRAY. 
 
 BY MRS. OLIPHANT. 
 
 "'Adam Graeme ' is a story awakening genuine emotions of interest and delight by its 
 admirable pictures of Scottish life and scenery. The plot is cleverly complicated, and 
 there is great vitality in the dialogue, and remarkable brilliancy in the descriptive pas- 
 Jages, as who that has read ' Margaret Maitland ' would not be prepared to expect ? 
 But the story has a 'mightier magnet still,' in the healthy tone which pervades it, in its 
 feminine delicacy of thought and diction, and in the truly womanly tenderness of its 
 sentiments. The eloquent author sets before us the essential attributes of Christian 
 virtue, their deep and silent workings in the heart, and their beautiful manifestations ir 
 the life, with a delicacy, a power, and a truth which can hardly be surpassed."— Mornin 
 Post. 
 
 VII.— SAM SLICK'S WISE SAWS AND 
 MODERN INSTANCES. 
 
 "We have not the slightest intention to criticise this book. Its reputation is made, and 
 will stand as long as that of Scott's or Bulwer's novels. The remarkable originality of 
 its purpose, and the happy description it affords of American life and manners, still con- 
 tinue the subject of universal admiration. To say thus much is to say enough, though we 
 must just mention that the new edition forms a part of the Publishers' Cheap Standard 
 Library, which has included some of the very best specimens of light literature that ever 
 have been written."— Messenger. 
 
 VIII.— CARDINAL WISEMAN'S RECOLLECTIONS 
 OF THE LAST FOUR POPES. 
 
 " A picturesque book on Eome and its ecclesiastical sovereigns, by an eloquent Roman 
 Catholic. Cardinal Wiseman has here treated a special subject with so much generality 
 and geniality that his recollections will excite no ill-feeling in those who are most con- 
 ■cientiously opposed to every idea of human infallibility represented ifr Papal domination" 
 — Aihenseum. 
 
 IX.— A LIFE FOR A LIFE. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF " JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN." 
 
 "We are always glad to welcome Mrs. Craik. She writes from her own convic- 
 tions, and she has the power not only to conceive clearly what it is that she wishes to 
 say, but to express it in language effective and vigorous. In ' A Life for a Life ' she is 
 fortunate in a good subject, and she has produced a work of strong effect The 
 reader, having read the book through for the story, will be apt (if he be of our per- 
 suasion) to return and read again many pages and passages with greater pleasure 
 than on a first perusal. The whole book is replete with a graceful, tender deli- 
 cacy; and, in addition to its other merits, it is written in good careful English."— 
 Athenaeum. 
 
 "' A Life for a Life ' is a book of a high class. The characters are depicted with a 
 masterly hand ; the events are dramatically set forth ; the descriptions of scenery and 
 sketches of society are admirably penned ; moreover, the work has an object — a clearly 
 defined moral— most poetically, most beautifully drawn, and through all there is that 
 strong, reflective mind visible which lays bare the human heart and human mind to the 
 very core."— Morning Post. 
 
 X.— THE OLD COURT SUBURB. 
 
 BY LEIGH HUNT. 
 
 "A book which has afforded us no slight gratification."— Athenseum. 
 
 " From the mixture of description, anecdote, biography, and criticism, this book is very 
 pleasant reading."— Spettator. 
 
 " A more agreeable and entertaining book has not been published since Boswell pro- 
 duced his reminiscences of Johnson."— Observer. 
 
HURST & BLACKETT'S STANDARD LIBRARY 
 
 XI.— MARGARET AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OP " THE VALLEY OF A HUNDRED FDRES," 
 
 " We recommend all who are in search of a fascinating novel to read this work for 
 themselves. They will find it well worth their while. There are a freshness and origin- 
 ality about it quite charming, and there is a certain nobleness in the treatment both of 
 sentiment and incident which is not often found." — Athenaeum. 
 
 XII.— THE OLD JUDGE ; OR, LIFE IN A COLONY. 
 
 BY SAM SLICK. 
 
 " A peculiar interest attaches to sketches of colonial life, and readers could not have a 
 safer guide than the talented author of this work, who, by a residence of half a century, 
 has practically grasped the habits, manners, and social conditions of the colonists he de- 
 scribes. All who wish to form a fair idea of the difficulties and pleasures of life in a new 
 country, unlike England in some respects, yet like it in many, should read this book."- 
 John Bull. 
 
 XIII.— DARIEN; OR, THE MERCHANT PRINJE. 
 
 BY ELIOT WARBURTON. 
 
 " This last production of the author of ' The Orescent and the Cross ' has the same 
 elements of a very wide popularity. It will please its thousands." — Globe. 
 
 " Eliot Warburton's active and productive genius is amply exemplified in the present 
 book. We have seldom met with any work in which the realities of history and the 
 poetry of fiction were more happily interwoven."— Illustrated Newt. 
 
 XIV.— FAMILY ROMANCE ; OR, DOMESTIC ANNALS 
 
 OF THE ARISTOCRACY. 
 
 BY SIR BERNARD BURKE, ULSTER KING OF ARMS. 
 " It were impossible to praise too highly this most interesting book, whether we should 
 have regard to its excellent plan or its not less excellent execution. It ought to be found 
 on every drawing-room table. Here you have nearly fifty captivating romances with the 
 pith of all their interest preserved in undiminished poignancy, and any one may be read 
 in half an hour. It is not the least of their merits that the romances are founded on fact 
 —or what, at least, has been handed down for truth by long tradition— and the romance 
 of reality far exceeds the romance of fiction."— Standard. 
 
 XV.— THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 BY MRS. OLIPHANT. 
 
 "We have had frequent opportunities of commending Messrs. Hurst and Blackett's 
 Standard Library. For neatness, elegance, and distinctness the volumes in this series 
 Burpass anything with which we are familiar. 'The Laird of Norlaw' will fully sustaiD 
 the author's high reputation. The reader is carried on from first to last with an energy 
 of sympathy that never flags."— -Sunday Times. 
 
 '"The Laird of Norlaw' is worthy of the author's reputation. It is one of the most 
 exquisite of modern novels." — Observer. 
 
 XVI.— THE ENGLISHWOMAN IN ITALY. 
 
 BY MRS. G. GRETTON. 
 
 "Mrs. Gretton had opportunities which rarely fall to the lot of strangers of becoming 
 acquainted with the inner life and habits of a part of the Italian peninsula which is the 
 very centre of the national crisis. We can praise her performance as interesting, unexag 
 gerated, and full of opportune instruction." — The Times. 
 
 "Mrs. Gretton's book is timely, life-iike, and for every reason to be recommended. It 
 is impossible to close the book without liking the r»rit«r as well as the subject The work 
 is engaging, because real.'— Athenxum. 
 
HURST & BLACKETT'S STANDARD LIBRARY 
 
 XVII.— NOTHING NEW. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF " JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN." 
 
 "'Nothing New' displays all those superior merits which have made 'John Halifax' 
 one of the most popular works of the day. There is a force and truthfulness about these 
 tales which mark them as the production of no ordinary mind, and we cordially recom- 
 mend them to the perusal of all lovers of fiction.'' — Morning Post. 
 
 XVIIL— LIFE OF JEANNE D'ALBRET, QUEEN OF 
 NAVARRE. 
 
 BY MISS FREER. 
 
 "We have read this book with great pleasure, and have no hesitation in recommending 
 it to general perusal. It reflects the highest credit on the industry and ability of Miss 
 Freer. Nothing can be more interesting than her story of the life of Jeanne D' Alb ret, 
 and the narrative is as trustworthy as it is attractive."— Morning Post. 
 
 XIX.— THE VALLEY OF A HUNDRED FIRES. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF " MARGARET AND HER BRIDESMAIDS." 
 
 " If asked to classify this work, we should give it a place between ' John Halifax ' and 
 ' The Caxtons.' " — Standard. 
 "The spirit in which the whole book is written is refined and good." — Athtnxum. 
 " This is in every sense a charming novel."— Messenger. 
 
 XX.— THE ROMANCE OF THE FORUM; OR, NARRATIVES, 
 SCENES, AND ANECDOTES FROM COURTS OF JUSTICE. 
 
 BY PETER BURKE, SERJEANT AT LAW. 
 
 "This attractive book will be perused with much interest. It contains a great variety 
 of singular and highly romantic stories."— John Bull. 
 
 " A work of singular interest, which can never fail to charm and absorb the reader'e 
 attention. The present cheap and elegant edition includes the true story of the Colleen 
 Bawn."— Illustrated News. 
 
 XXL— ADELE. 
 
 BY JULIA KAVANAGH. 
 
 " • Adele ' is the best work we have read by Miss Kavanagh ; it is a charming story, 
 full of delicate character-painting. The interest kindled in the first chapter burns brightly 
 to the close." — Athenceum. 
 
 " ' Adele ' will fully sustain the reputation of Miss Kavanagh, high as it already ranks." 
 — John Bull. 
 
 " ' Adele ' is a love-story of very considerable pathos and power. It is a very clever 
 novel."— Daily News. 
 
 XXIL— STUDIES FROM LIFE. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF " JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN." 
 
 "These 'Studies ' are truthful and vivid pictures of life, often earnest, always full of right 
 feeling, and occasionally lightened by touches of quiet, genial humour. The volume is re- 
 markable for thought, sound sense, shrewd observation, and kind and sympathetic feeling 
 for all things good and beautiful" — Morning Post. 
 
 " These ' Studies from Life ' are remarkable for graphic power and observation. Tha 
 »ook will not diminish the reputation of the accomplished author."— Saturday Review. 
 
HURST & BLACKETT'S STANDARD LIBRARY 
 
 XXIIL— GRANDMOTHER'S MONEY. 
 
 BY F. W. ROBINSON. 
 
 " We commend * Grandmother's Money ' to readers in search of a good novel. The 
 characters are true to human nature, and the story is interesting." — Athenaeum. 
 
 XXIV.— A BOOK ABOUT DOCTORS. 
 
 BY JOHN CORDY JEAFFRESON. 
 
 '* A book to be read and re-read; fit for the study as well as the drawing-room table and 
 the circulating library."— Lancet. 
 
 " This is a pleasant book for the fireside season, and for the seaside season. Mr. Jeaffre- 
 Bon has, out of hundreds of volumes, collected thousands of good things, adding thereto 
 much that appears in print for the first time, and which, of course, gives increased value 
 to this very readable book." — Athenaeum. 
 
 XXV— NO CHURCH. 
 
 BY F. W. ROBINSON. 
 
 "We advise all who have the opportunity to read this book It is well worth the 
 study." — Athenaeum. 
 " A work of great originality, merit, and power."— Standard. 
 
 XXVL— MISTRESS AND MAID. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF " JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN." 
 
 " A good wholesome book, gracefully written, and as pleasant to read as it is instruc- 
 tive."— Athenaeum. 
 
 " A charming tale, charmingly told"— Standard. 
 
 "All lovers of a good novel will hail with delight another of Mrs. Oraik's charming 
 ■tories."— John Bull 
 
 XXVII.— LOST AND SAVED. 
 
 BY THE HON. MRS. NORTON. 
 
 " 'LoBt and Saved' will be read with eager interest by those who love a touching story. 
 It iB a vigorous novel."— Times. 
 
 " This story is animated, full of exciting situations and stirring incidents. The charac- 
 ters are delineated with great power. Above and beyond these elements of a good novel, 
 there is that indefinable charm with which true genius invests all it touches."— Daily Newt. 
 
 XXVIIL— LES MISERABLES. 
 
 BY VICTOR HUGO. 
 Authorised Copyright English Translation. 
 
 " The merits of ' Les Miserables ' do not merely consist in the conception of it as a 
 whole ; it abounds with details of unequalled beauty. M. Victor Hugo bas Btamped upon 
 every page the hall-mark of genius."— Quarterly Review. 
 
 XXIX.— BARBARA'S HISTORY. 
 
 BY AMELIA B. EDWARDS. 
 
 "It is not often that we light upon a novel of bo much merit and interest as 
 ' Barbara's History.' It is a work conspicuous for taste and literary culture. It is a very 
 graceful and charming book, with a well-managed story, clearly-cut characters, and 
 sentiments expressed with an exquisite elocution. The dialogues especially sparkle witH 
 repartee. It is a book which the world will like. This is high praise of a work of art 
 and so we intend it"— The Times. 
 
HURST & BLACKETT'S STANDARD LIBRARY 
 
 XXX.—LIFE OF THE REV. EDWARD IRVING. 
 
 BY MRS. OLIPHANT. 
 
 " A good book on a most interesting theme." — Timet. 
 
 44 A truly interesting and most affecting memoir. ' living's Life ' ought to have a niche 
 in every gallery of religious biography. There are few lives that will be fuller of in- 
 struction, interest, and consolation." — Saturday Review. 
 
 XXXI— ST. OLAVE'S. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF " JANITA'S CROSS." 
 
 44 This novel is the work of one who possesses a great talent for writing, as well as 
 •xperience and knowledge of the world. The whole book is worth reading."— Athenamm. 
 
 " 4 St Olave's ' belongs to a lofty order of fiction. It is a good novel, but it is something 
 more. It is written with unflagging ability, and it is as even as it is clever. The author 
 has determined to do nothing short of the best, and has succeeded"— Morning Pott. 
 
 XXXIL— SAM SLICK'S TRAITS OF AMERICAN HUMOUR. 
 
 44 Dip where you will into this lottery of fun, you are sure to draw out a prize. These 
 4 Traits ' exhibit most successfully the broad national features of American humour."— Post. 
 
 XXXIII.— CHRISTIAN'S MISTAKE. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF " JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN." 
 
 «' A more charming story has rarely been written. It is a choice gift to be able thus to 
 render human nature so truly, to penetrate its depths with such a searching sagacity, and 
 to illuminate them with a radiance so eminently the writer's own."— Timet. 
 
 XXXIV.— ALEC FORBES OF HOWGLEN. 
 
 BY GEORGE MAO DONALD, LL.D. 
 
 "No account of this story would give any idea of the profound interest that pervadei 
 the work from the first page to the last"— Athenamm. 
 
 44 A novel of uncommon merit Sir Walter Scott said he would advise no man to try 
 to read ' Clarissa Harlowe ' out loud in company if he wished to keep his character for 
 manly superiority to tears. We fancy a good many hardened old novel-readers will feel 
 n rising in the throat as they follow the fortunes of Alec and Annie." — Pall Mall C 
 
 XXXV— AGNES. 
 
 BY MRS. OLDPHANT. 
 
 " 'Agnes ' is a novel superior to any of Mrs. Oliphant's former works."— Athenceum. 
 
 "MrB. Oliphant is one of the most admirable of our novelists. In her works there 
 are always to be found high principle, good taste, sense, and refinement ' Agnes ' is 
 a story whose pathetic beauty will appeal irresistibly to all readers."— Morning Post. 
 
 XXXVL— A NOBLE LIFE. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF " JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN." 
 
 "Few men and no women will read 4 A Noble Life' without feeling themselves the 
 better for the effort"— Spectator. 
 
 44 A beautifully written and touching tale. It is a noble book" — Morning Post. 
 
 44 4 A Noble Life ' is remarkable for the high types of character it presents, and the 
 •kill with which they are made to work out a story of powerful and pathetic interest" 
 —Daily News. 
 
 XXXVII.— NEW AMERICA. 
 
 BY W. HEPWORTH DIXON. 
 
 44 A very interesting book. Mr. Dixon has written thoughtfully and welL"— Times. 
 "We recommend everyone who feels any interest in human nature to read Mr. 
 nixon's very interesting book."— Saturday Review. 
 
HURST & BLACKETT'S STANDARD LIBRARY 
 
 XXXVIIL— ROBERT FALCONER. 
 
 BY GEORGE MAO DONALD, LL.D. 
 
 " ' Kobert Falconer ' is a work brimful of life and humour and of the deepest human 
 interest. It iB a book to be returned to again and again for the deep and searching 
 knowledge it evinces of human thoughts and feelings."— Athenaeum. 
 
 XXXIX.— THE WOMAN'S KINGDOM. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OP " JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN." 
 
 " ' The Woman's Kingdom ' sustains the author's reputation as a writer of the purest 
 and noblest kind of domestic stories." — Athenaeum. 
 
 " ' The Woman's Kingdom ' is remarkable for its romantic interest. The characters are 
 masterpieces. Edna is worthy of the hand that drew John Halifax."— Morning Post. 
 
 XL.— ANNALS OF AN EVENTFUL LIFE. 
 
 BY GEORGE WEBBE DASENT, D.O.L. 
 
 "A racy, well-written, and original novel. The interest never flags. The whole work 
 sparkles with wit and humour."— Quarterly Review. 
 
 XLL— DAVID ELGINBROD. 
 
 BY GEORGE MAO DONALD, LL.D. 
 
 "A novel which is the work of a man of genius. It will attract the highest class of 
 readers."— Timet. 
 
 XLIL— A BRAVE LADY. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF " JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN." 
 
 "We earnestly recommend this novel. It is a special and worthy specimen of the 
 author's remarkable powers. The reader's attention never for a moment flags." — Post. 
 
 " ' A Brave Lady ' thoroughly rivets the unmingled sympathy of the reader, and her 
 history deserves to stand foremost among the author's works."— Daily Telegraph. 
 
 XLIIL— HANNAH. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF " JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN." 
 
 " A very pleasant, healthy story, well and artistically told. The book is sure of a wide 
 circle of readers. The character of Hannah is one of rare beauty." — Standard. 
 
 "A powerful novel of social. and domestic life. One of the most successful efforts of a 
 successful novelist."— Daily News. 
 
 XLIV.— SAM SLICK'S AMERICANS AT HOME. 
 
 " This is one of the most amusing books that wo ever read." — Standard. 
 " 'The Americans at Home ' will not be less popular than any of Judge Halliburton's 
 previous works." — Morning Post. 
 
 XLV.— THE UNKIND WORD. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF "JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN." 
 
 " These stories are gems of narrative. Indeed, some of them, in their touching grace 
 and simplicity, seem to us to possess a charm even beyond the authoress's most popular 
 novels. Of none of them can this be said more emphatically than of that which opens the 
 series, ' The Unkind Word' It is wonderful to see the imaginative power displayed in 
 the few delicate touches by which this successful love-story is sketched out"— The Echo. 
 
HUEST & BLACKETT'S STANDARD LIBRARY 
 
 XLVL— A ROSE IN JUNE. 
 
 BY MRS. OLIPHANT. 
 " • A Rose in June ' is as pretty as its title. The story is one of the best and most 
 touching which we owe to the industry and talent of Mrs, Oliphant, and may hold ita own 
 with even ' The Chronicles of Carlingford.' " — Times. 
 
 XLVIL— MY LITTLE LADY. 
 
 BY E. FRANCES POYNTER. 
 "This story presents a number of vivid and very charming pictures, Indeed, the whole 
 book is charming. It is interesting in both character and story, and thoroughly good of 
 its kind."— Saturday Review. 
 
 XLVIIL— PHCEBE, JUNIOR. 
 
 BY MRS. OLIPHANT. 
 "This last 'Chronicle of Carlingford' not merely takes rank fairly beside the first 
 which introduced us to 'Salem Chapel,' but surpasses all the intermediate records. 
 Phoebe, Junior, herself is admirably drawn." — Academy. 
 
 XLIX.—LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 BY PROFESSOR CHARLES DUKE YONGE. 
 
 " A work of remarkable merit and interest, which will, we doubt not, become the most 
 popular English history of Marie Antoinette."— Spectat or. 
 
 L.— SIR GIBBIE. 
 
 BY GEORGE MAC DONALD, LL.D. 
 
 44 ' Sir Gibbie ' is a book of genius."— Pall Mall Gazette. 
 " This book has power, pathos, and humour." — Athenamm. 
 
 LI.— YOUNG MRS. JARDINE. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF " JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN." 
 
 " 'Young Mrs. Jardine ' is a pretty story, written in pure English." — The Times. 
 
 " There is much good feeling in this book. It is pleasant and wholesome."— Athenamm. 
 
 LIL— LORD BRACKENBURY. 
 
 BY AMELIA B. EDWARDS. 
 
 "A very readable story. The author has well conceived the purpose of high-class 
 novel-writing, and succeeded in no small measure in attaining it. There iB plenty of 
 variety, cheerful dialogue, and general ' verve ' in the book."— Athenamm. 
 
 LHI.-IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 BY MRS. OLIPHANT. 
 
 " In ' It was a Lover and his Lass,' we admire Mrs. Oliphant exceedingly. It would b« 
 worth reading a second time, were it only for the sake of one ancient Scottish spinster, 
 who is nearly the counterpart of the admirable Mrs. Margaret Maitland"— Times. 
 
 L1V.— THE REAL LORD BYRON— THE STORY OF 
 THE POET'S LIFE. 
 
 BY JOHN CORDY JEAFFRESON. 
 
 " Mr. Jeaffreson comes forward with a narrative which must take a very important 
 place in Byronic literature ; and it may reasonably be anticipated that this book will be 
 regarded with deep interest by all who are concerned in the works and the fame of this 
 great English poet"— The Times. 
 
WORKS BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 'SAM SLICK, THE CLOCKMAKER.' 
 
 Each in One Volume, Frontispiece, and Uniformly Bound, Price 5s. 
 
 NATURE AND HUMAN NATURE. 
 
 "We enjoy our old friend's company with unabated relish. This work is a rattling 
 miscellany of sharp sayings, stories, and hard hits. It is full of fun and fancy."— Athenaeum. 
 
 M Since Sam's first work he has written nothing so fresh, racy, and genuinely humorous aa 
 this. Every line of it tells in some way or other— instructively, satirically, jocosely, or 
 wittily. Admiration of Sam's mature talents, and laughter at his droll yarns, constantly 
 alternate as with unhalting avidity we peruse the work The Clockmaker proves himself 
 the fastest time-killer a-going."— Observer. 
 
 WISE SAWS AND MODERN INSTANCES. 
 
 " This delightful hook will be the most popular, as beyond doubt it iB the best, of all the 
 author's admirable works."— Standard. 
 
 " The book before us will be read and laughed over. Its quaint and racy dialect will 
 please some readers— its abundance of yarns will amuse others. There is something to 
 suit readers of every humour." — Alhenceum. 
 
 " The humour of Sam Slick is inexhaustible. He is ever and everywhere a welcome 
 visitor ; smiles greet his approach, and wit and wisdom hang upon his tongue. We pro- 
 mise our readers a great treat from the perusal of these ' Wise Saws,' which contain a 
 world of practical wisdom, and a treasury of the richest fun." — Morning Post. 
 
 THE OLD JUDGE ; OR, LIFE IN A COLONY. 
 
 " By common consent this work is regarded as one of the raciest, truest to life, most 
 humorous, and most interesting works which have proceeded from the prolific pen of its 
 author. We all know what shrewdness of observation, what power of graphic descrip- 
 tion, what natural resources of drollery, and what a happy method of hitting off the 
 broader characteristics of the life he reviews, belong to Judge Haliburton. We have all 
 those qualities here ; but they are balanced by a serious literary purpose, and are employed 
 in the communication of information respecting certain phases of colonial experience 
 which impart to the work an element of sober utility."— Sunday Times. 
 
 TRAITS OF AMERICAN HUMOUR. 
 
 M No man has done more than the facetious Judge Haliburton, through the mouth of the 
 inimitable ' Sam,' to make the old parent country recognise and appreciate her queer 
 transatlantic progeny. His present collection of comic stories and laughable traits is a 
 budget of fun, full of rich specimens of American humour.'' — Globe. 
 
 " Yankeeism, portrayed in its raciest aspect, constitutes the contents of these superla- 
 tively entertaining sketches. The work embraces the most varied topics — political parties, 
 religious eccentricities, the flights of literature, and the absurdities of pretenders to learn- 
 ing, all come in for their share of satire ; while we have specimens of genuine American 
 exaggerations and graphic pictures of social and domestic life as it is. The work will 
 have a wide circulatioa" — John Bull. 
 
 THE AMERICANS AT HOME. 
 
 " In this highly entertaining work we are treated to another cargo of capital stories 
 from the inexhaustible store of our Yankee friend. In the volume before us he dishes up, 
 with his accustomed humour and terseness of style, a vast number of tales, none more 
 entertaining than another, and all of them graphically illustrative of the ways and man- 
 ners of brother Jonathan. The anomalies of American law, the extraordinary adventures 
 incident to life in the backwoods, and, above all, the peculiarities of American society, are 
 variously, powerfully, and, for the most part, amusingly exemplified." — John Bull. 
 
 " In the picturesque delineation of character, and the felicitous portraiture of national 
 features, no writer equals Judge Haliburton, and the subjects embraced in the present 
 delightful book call forth, in new and vigorous exercise, his peculiar powers. 'The 
 Americans at Home ' will not be less popular than any of his previous works."— Post. 
 
 LONDON : HUKST AND BLAOKETT, PUBLISHEES, 
 
WORKS BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN. 
 
 Each in One Volume, Frontispiece, and Uniformly Bound, price 5s. 
 
 JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN. 
 
 " This is a very good and a very interesting work. It is designed to trace the career 
 from boyhood to age of a perfect man — a Christian gentleman, and it abounds in incident 
 both well and highly wrought. Throughout it is conceived in a high spirit, and written 
 with great ability. This cheap and handsome new edition is worthy to pass freely from 
 hand to hand as a gift-book in many households." — Examiner. 
 
 " The story is very interesting The attachment between John Halifax and his wife is 
 beautifully painted, as are the pictures of their domestic life, and the growing up of their 
 children, and the conclusion of the book is beautiful and touching." — Athenaeum. 
 
 "The new and cheaper edition of this interesting work will doubtless meet with great 
 Buccess. John Halifax, the hero of this most beautiful story, is no ordinary hero, and this 
 his history is no ordinary book. It is a full-length portrait of a true gentleman, one of 
 nature's own nobility. It is also the history of a home, and a thoroughly English one. 
 The work abounds in incident, and is full of graphic power and true pathos. It is a book 
 that few will read without becoming wiser and better." — Scotsman. 
 
 A WOMAN'S THOUGHTS ABOUT WOMEN. 
 
 "A book of sound counsel- It is one of the most sensible workB of its kind, well written, 
 true-hearted, and altogether practical. Whoever wishes to give advice to a young lady 
 may thank the author for means of doing so."— Examiner. 
 
 " These thoughts are worthy of the earnest and enlightened mind, the all-embracing 
 charity, and the well-earned reputation of the author of ' John Halifax' " — Standard. 
 
 " This excellent book is characterised by good sense, good taste, and feeling, and is 
 written in an earnest, philanthropic, as well as practical spirit"— Post. 
 
 A LIFE FOR A LIFE. 
 
 " We are always glad to welcome this author. She writes from her own convictions, 
 and she has the power not only to conceive clearly what it is that she wishes to say, but 
 to express it in language effective and vigorous. In 4 A Life for a Life ' she is fortunate 
 in a good subject, and she has produced a work of strong effect. The reader, having read 
 the book through for the story, will be apt (if he be of our persuasion) to return and read 
 again many pages and passages with greater pleasure than on a first perusal. The whole 
 book is replete with a graceful, tender delicacy ; and, in addition to its other merits, it is 
 written in good careful English." — Athenoeum. 
 
 NOTHING NEW. 
 
 "* Nothing New ' displays all those superior merits which have made 4 John Halifax ' 
 one of the most popular works of the day." — Post. 
 
 " The reader will find these narratives calculated to remind him of that truth and 
 energy of human portraiture, that spell over human affections and emotions, which have 
 stamped this author as one of the first novelists of our day."— John Bull. 
 
 THE WOMAN'S KINGDOM. 
 
 " ' The Woman's Kingdom ' sustains the author's reputation as a writer of the purest 
 and noblest kind of domestic stories. The novelist's lesson is given with admirable force 
 and sweetness." — Athenaeum. 
 
 " ' The Woman's Kingdom ' is remarkable for its romantic interest. The characters 
 are masterpieces. Edna is worthy of the hand that drew John Halifax"— Post. 
 
 STUDIES FROM LIFE. 
 
 "These studies are truthful and vivid pictures of life, often earnest, always full of right 
 feeling, and occasionally lightened by touches of quiet genial humour. The volume is re- 
 markable for thought, sound sense, shrewd observation, and kind and sympathetic feeling 
 for all things good and beautiful."— Post. 
 
WORKS BY THE AUTHOR OP 
 
 JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN. 
 
 (CONTINUED.) 
 
 CHRISTIAN'S MISTAKE. 
 
 "A more charming story, to our taste, has rarely been written. Within the compass 
 of a single volume the writer has hit off a circle of varied characters, all true to nature — 
 some true to the highest nature — and she has entangled them in a story which keeps us 
 in suspense till the knot is happily and gracefully resolved ; while, at the same time, a 
 pathetic interest is sustained by an art of which it would be difficult to analyse the secret. 
 It is a choice gift to be able thus to render human nature so truly, to penetrate its depths 
 with such a searching sagacity, and to illuminate them with a radiance so eminently the 
 writer's own. Even if tried by the standard of the Archbishop of York, we should expect 
 that even he would pronounce 'Christian's Mistake' a novel without a fault." — The Times. 
 
 " This is a story good to have from the circulating library, but better to have from one's 
 bookseller, for it deserves a place in that little collection of clever and wholesome stories 
 which forms one of the comforts of a well-appointed home."— Examiner. 
 
 MISTRESS AND MAID. 
 
 " A good, wholesome book, as pleasant to read as it is instructive."— Athenceum. 
 •' This book is written with the same true-hearted earnestness as ' John Halifax.' The 
 spirit of the whole work is excellent."— Examiner. 
 "A charming tale charmingly told" — Standard. 
 
 A NOBLE LIFE. 
 
 " This is one of those pleasant tales in which the author of 'John Halifax ' speaks out 
 of a generous heart the purest truths of life.' — Examiner. 
 
 " Few men, and no women, will read 4 A Noble Life 'without finding themselves the 
 better."— Spectator. 
 
 "A story of powerful and pathetic interest."— Daily News. 
 
 A BRAVE LADY. 
 
 "A very good novel, showing a tender sympathy with human nature, and permeated 
 by a pure and noble spirit" — Examiner. 
 
 " A most charming story."— Standard. 
 
 "We earnestly recommend this novel. It is a special and worthy specimen of the 
 author's remarkable powers. The reader's attention never for a moment flags." — Post. 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 " A powerful novel of social and domestic life. One of the most successful efforts of a 
 successful novelist"— Daily News. 
 
 _ " A very pleasant, healthy story, well and artistically told. The book is sure of a wide 
 circle of readers. The character of Hannah is one of rare beauty."— Standard. 
 
 THE UNKIND WORD. 
 
 " The author of 'John Halifax' has written many fascinating stories, but we can call to 
 mind nothing from her pen that has a more enduring charm than the graceful sketches in 
 this work. Such a character as Jessie stands out from a crowd of heroines as the type of 
 all that is truly noble, pure, and womanly."— United Service Magazine. 
 
 YOUNG MRS. JARDINE. 
 
 Vn£ 0xmg Mrs< Jardine ' is a pretty story, written in pure English."— The Times. 
 There is much good feeling in this book. It is pleasant and wholesome."— Athenceum. 
 
 'A book that all should read Whilst it is quite the equal of any of its predecessors 
 in elevation of thought and style, it is perhaps their superior in interest of plot and 
 dramatic intensity. The characters are admirably delineated, and the dialogue is natural 
 and clear. — Morning Post. 
 
 LONDON : HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS. 
 
WORKS BY 
 
 MRS. OLIPHANT. 
 
 Each in One Volume, Frontispiece, and Uniformly Bound, Price 5s. 
 
 ADAM GRAEME OF MOSSGRAY. 
 
 M ■ Adam Graeme ' is a story awakening genuine emotions of interest and delight by its 
 admirable pictures of Scottish life and scenery. The plot is cleverly complicated, and 
 there is great vitality in the dialogue, and remarkable brilliancy in the descriptive pas- 
 sages, as who that has read 'Margaret Mailand' would not be prepared to expect? 
 But the story has a ' mightier magnet still,' in the healthy tone which pervades it, in its 
 feminine delicacy of thought and diction, and in the truly womanly tenderness of its 
 sentiments. The eloquent author sets before us the essential attributes of Christian 
 virtue, their deep and silent workings in the heart, and their beautiful manifestations in 
 the life, with a delicacy, a power, and a truth which can hardly be surpassed."--.J/oroxno' 
 Pott. 
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 "We have had frequent opportunities of commending Messrs. Hurst and Blackett'a 
 Standard Library. For neatness, elegance, and distinctness the volumes in this series 
 surpass anything with which we are familiar. ' The Laird of Norlaw ' will fully sustain 
 the author's high reputation. The reader is carried on from first to last with an energy 
 of sympathy that never flags." — Sunday Times. 
 
 "'The Laird of Norlaw' is worthy of the author's reputation. It is one of the most 
 exquisite of modern novels."— Observer. 
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 " In *It was a Lover and his Lass,' we admire Mrs. Oliphant exceedingly. Her story is 
 a very pretty one. It would be worth reading a second time, were it only for the sake of 
 one ancient Scottish spinster, who is nearly the counterpart of the admirable Mra Mar- 
 garet Maitland."— Timet. 
 
 AGNES. 
 
 " •Agnes' Ib a novel superior to any of Mrs. Oliphant's former works." — Athenaeum. 
 
 " Mrs. Oliphant is one of the most admirable of our novelists. In her worka there are 
 always to be found high principle, good taste, sense, and refinement. ' Agnes ' is a Btory 
 whose pathetic beauty will appeal irresistibly to all readers."— M orning Pott. 
 
 A ROSE IN JUNE. 
 
 " • A Eose in June ' is as pretty as its title. The story is one of the best and most 
 touching which we owe to the industry and talent of Mrs. Oliphant, and may hold its own 
 with even ' The Chronicles of Carlingford.' " — Timet. 
 
 PHCEBE, JUNIOR. 
 
 "This last 'Chronicle of Carlingford' not merely takes rank fairly beside the first 
 which introduced us to 'Salem Chapel,' but surpasses all the intermediate records. 
 Phoebe, Junior, herself is admirably drawn."— Academy. 
 
 LIFE OF THE REV. EDWARD IRVING. 
 
 "A good book on a most interesting theme." — Times. 
 
 "A truly interesting and most affecting memoir. ' Irving' s Life' ought to have a niche 
 in every gallery of religious biography. There are few lives that will be fuller of in- 
 struction, interest, and consolation."— Saturday Review. 
 
 LONDON : HUSST AND BLAOKETT, PUBLISHERS. 
 
WORKS BY 
 
 GEOKGE MAC DONALD, LL.D. 
 
 Each, in One Volume, Frontispiece, and Uniformly Bound, Price 5s. 
 
 ALEC FORBES OF HOWGLEN. 
 
 "No account of this story would give any idea of the profound interest that pervades 
 the work from the first page to the last"— Athenxum. 
 
 "A novel of uncommon merit Sir "Walter Scott said he would advise no man to try 
 to read 4 Clarissa Harlowe ' out loud in company if he wished to keep his character for 
 manly superiority to tears. We fancy a good many hardened old novel-readers will feel 
 a rising in the throat as they follow the fortunes of Alec and Annie." — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 " The whole story is one of surpassing excellence and beauty."— Daily News. 
 
 " This book is full of good thought and good writing. Dr. Mac Donald looks in his stories 
 more to the souls of men and women than to their social outside. He reads life and 
 Nature like a true poet"— Examiner. 
 
 ROBERT FALCONER. 
 
 "'Robert Falconer' is a work brimful of life and humour and of the deepest human 
 interest It is a work to be returned to again and again for the deep and searching 
 knowledge it evinces of human thoughts and feelings."— Athenamm. 
 
 " This story abounds in exquisite specimens of the word-painting in which Dr. Mac 
 Donald excels, charming transcripts of Nature, full of light, air, and colour."— Saturday 
 Review. 
 
 " This noble story displays to the best advantage all the powers of Dr. Mac Donald's 
 genius."— Illustrated London News. 
 
 " • Robert Falconer ' is the noblest work of fiction that Dr. Mac Donald has yet pro- 
 duced" — British Quarterly Review. 
 
 " The dialogues in ' Robert Falconer ' are so finely blended with humour and pathos as 
 to make them in themselves an intellectual treat to which the reader returns again and 
 again."— Spectator. 
 
 DAVID ELGINBROD. 
 
 "A novel which is the work of a man of genius. It will attract the highest class of 
 readers." — Times. 
 
 " There are many beautiful passages and descriptions in this book. The characters are 
 extremely well drawn" — Athenaeum. 
 
 "A clever novel. The incidents are exciting, and tho interest is maintained to the 
 close. It may be doubted if Sir Walter Scott himself ever painted a Scotch fireside with 
 more truth than Dr. Mac Donald." — Morning Post. 
 
 " David Elginbrod is the finest character we have met in fiction for many a day. The 
 descriptions of natural scenery are vivid, truthful, and artistic; the general reflections are 
 those of a refined, thoughtful, and poetical philosopher, and the whole moral atmosphere 
 of the book is lofty, pure, and invigorating."— Globe. 
 
 SIR GIBBIE. 
 
 " ' Sir Gibbie ' is a book of genius."— Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 " This book has power, pathos, and humour. There is not a character which is not 
 lifelike. There are many powerful scenes, and the portraits will stay long in our 
 memory." — Athenamm. 
 
 " ' Sir Gibbie ' is unquestionably a book of genius. It abounds in humour, pathos, 
 insight into character, and happy touches of description."— Graphic. 
 
 "'Sir Gibbie' contains some of the most charming writing the author has yet pro- 
 duced " — Scotsman. 
 
 " ' Sir Gibbie ' is one of the most touching and beautiful stories that has been written 
 for many years. It is not a novel to be idly read and laid aside ; it Is a grand work, to be 
 kept near at hand, and studied and thought over."— Morning Post. 
 
 LONDON I HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS. 
 
WORKS by the AUTHOR of 'JOHN HALIFAX: 
 
 Each in a Single Volume, with Frontispiece, price 5s. 
 
 JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN. 
 A woman's THOUGHTS 
 
 ABOUT WOMEN. 
 A LIFE FOR A LIFE. 
 NOTHING NEW. 
 MISTRESS AND MAID. 
 THE WOMAN'S KINGDOM. 
 
 CHRISTIAN'S MISTAKE. 
 
 A NOBLE LIFE. 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 THE UNKIND WORD. 
 
 A BRAVE LADY. 
 
 STUDIES FROM LIFE. 
 
 YOUNG MRS. JARDINE. 
 
 WORKS by GEORGE MAC DONALD, LL.D. 
 
 Each in a Single Volume, with Frontispiece, price 5s. 
 
 DAVID ELGINBROD. 
 ROBERT FALCONER. 
 
 ALEC FORBES. 
 SIR GIBBIE. 
 
 WORKS by MRS. OLIPHANT. 
 
 Each in a Single Volume, with Frontispiece, price 5s. 
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS 
 
 LASS 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 A ROSE IN JUNE. 
 
 ADAM GRAEME OF MOSS- 
 GRAY. 
 PHCEBE, JUNIOR. 
 AGNES. 
 
 THE LIFE OF THE REV. EDWARD IRVING. 
 
 WORKS by the AUTHOR of 'SAM SLICK' 
 
 Each in a Single Volume, with Frontispiece, price 5s. 
 
 NATURE AND HUMAN 
 
 NATURE. 
 WISE SAWS AND MODERN 
 
 INSTANCES. 
 
 THE OLD JUDGE ; OR, LIFE 
 
 IN A COLONY. 
 TRAITS OF AMERICAN 
 
 HUMOUR. 
 
 THE AMERICANS AT HOME. 
 
 LONDON: HURST AND BLACKETT. 
 
LOAN DEPT. 
 
 Renewed booksarejubjectw^ * 
 
 to re caU 
 
 LD21-35w-8,'72 
 ( Q4189S10)476— A-3- 
 
 r#»neral Library 
 
898979 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA UBRARY