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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  want4  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  Veney2  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  prendret 
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, 
Admires1  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,  and1 
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  ready  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  ! 

0  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  6d-  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   2s-;  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  2s- 

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.  Laming9 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  affluence2 — 
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  f1 

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  invention1  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,  wrhich  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  wnica  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,  0  : 
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,  0  : 
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,  0  : 
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,  0  : 
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,  0  ; 

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,  0  ; 

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,  0  ; 

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,  0  : 

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  basket1  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's2  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's1  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  Bridge3  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,  an7  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  ?" 

444D — 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  V9  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  V9 

'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  administration1  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  TIMES1  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    0        £26     18    6 
2,000  Stamps  at  2d.,  deducting  discount    16     0    0  20      4    0 

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  you7 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  Liberty1  (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  Fetlock1  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 

lIn  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  iron1  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's1  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  shules2  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  Pump3  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-scoundrel6  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  Collegian1  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  Smart1) 
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  f1 
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  wersts1  (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  roubles1  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  V9  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 
may»  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  Cotgrave1  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,  surfle2  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  i1 

'  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  Ward2  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- 
aclis  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  Dr-  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,  Esqre-  ....  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,  1709r 
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  ye  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  ye  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  ye  Cry,  and  her  Fame's  on  Record. 

Dame  Nature  has  giv'n  her  a  Doctor's  Degree, 
She  gets  all  y9  Patients,  and  pockets  the  Fee  ; 
So  if  you  don't  instantly  prove  her  a  Cheat, 
She'll  loll  in  her  Chariot  while  you  walk  ye  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  post2  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.  lrou  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 
Messrs-  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— Continued. 

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-SIXTH    EDITION   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  funt 
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  Money1  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. 


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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. 


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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  4A  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. 


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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  4A  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. 

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