Eccentric Characters
DickinsonRICHARD DICKINSON.
RICHARD DICKINSON.
Thisman, though deformed by nature, as he is represented in the picture, lived a happy life, amassed wealth, became a great favorite with fashionable people, and at last acquired the title of Governor.
Dicky, as he was familiarly called, lived at Scarborough, a town in Yorkshire, England, famous for mineral waters and sea bathing. It has long been a fashionable resort in England, and in paying attention to those who frequented the place, Dicky collected considerable money. With this, he built several public houses, and as he was now rich, and withal very facetious, he became quite a noted character. The ladies patronized him; poets sung his praises, the famous Hysing painted his portrait, and Vertue, no less celebrated, engraved it. A large etching was executed, from which the above sketch is taken, and to the likeness the following lines were subjoined:
“Behold the governor of Scarborough Spaw,The strangest phiz and form you ever saw,Yet, when you view the beauties of his mind,In him a second Æsop you may find.Samos unenvied boasts her Æsop gone,And France may glory in her late Scarron,While England has a living Dickinson.”
“Behold the governor of Scarborough Spaw,The strangest phiz and form you ever saw,Yet, when you view the beauties of his mind,In him a second Æsop you may find.Samos unenvied boasts her Æsop gone,And France may glory in her late Scarron,While England has a living Dickinson.”
“Behold the governor of Scarborough Spaw,
The strangest phiz and form you ever saw,
Yet, when you view the beauties of his mind,
In him a second Æsop you may find.
Samos unenvied boasts her Æsop gone,
And France may glory in her late Scarron,
While England has a living Dickinson.”
Dickinson received the title of governor somewhat in mockery, but he took it in good part. He flourished rather more than a century ago.
WhitneyJAMES WHITNEY.
JAMES WHITNEY.
Thisnotorious person, who was executed in 1694, for robbery, was bred abutcher, and it is said that his first attempt at crime consisted in an effort to steal a calf. He and a companion had endeavored, in the course of a certain morning, to purchase the calf; but as the owner demanded an exorbitant price, they determined to steal it the next night.
It happened to be very dark, but, after some parley, Whitney agreed to enter the stable and seize the animal, while his companion watched without. He entered accordingly, and began feeling about for his prey. He soon felt something rough, and taking it for the calf, began tickling it, in order to make it rise. Suddenly, the animal seemed to get upon its hind legs, and anon grasping Whitney with its fore paws, gave him a most severe hug. In this posture, he was forced to stand, lost in astonishment, unable to move, and afraid to cry out, lest he should alarm the inn-keeper or some of the family; the thief without, wondering all the time at his delay.
The latter, at length, putting his head in at the door, said, “What is it that keeps you? Are we to be all night stealing a calf?” “A calf!” exclaimed Whitney; “why, I believe it is the Imp himself, for he has got his paws about me, and keeps me so close that I can’t stir a step.” “Pooh!” cried the other; “what nonsense; but imp or no imp, I should like to see him,—so make haste, and fetch him out at once.”
Whitney was too much alarmed to be pleased with this jesting tone, and immediately rejoined, impatiently, “Oh, do be quiet, and come to my assistance, for I don’t half like him.” The other accordingly entered, and after a little examination, they discovered, to their amazement, that they were deceived.
It seems that a muzzled bear, belonging to an itinerant showman, having been accidentally placed in the stable during the day, the calf had been removed to make room for him. By their joint efforts, Whitney got relieved from the bear’s grasp, when both made off with all speed, half resolved never again to try their hand at thieving, since the trade had had so luckless a beginning.
Unfortunately, Whitney did not mind the warning conveyed by this ill success. He soon after became an inn-keeper in Hertfordshire, and connected himself with a set of people, calledGentlemen of the road. These were robbers, who waylaid travellers, and robbed them of their money, jewels, watches, &c.
These desperate men were in those days so numerous along the great roads in England, that no persons who had money, thought of travelling, unless they were sufficiently armed. Many of these robbers became distinguished for their daring feats, and some of them were almost as famous as Robin Hood. Whitney, at last, became a leader among these men, and a great many wonderful tales were told of his dexterity, boldness, and success. It seems that he pretended to be a generous robber, and the following story is told of him.
He once robbed a gentleman on Newmarket heath of a large quantity of silver, tied up in a bag. When Whitney had got the money, the gentleman remonstrated with him, saying, “that he should be put to the greatest inconvenience, if he were obliged to proceed on his journey without money.” Upon this, Whitney opened the mouth of the bag, and told him to take what would pay his expenses. The gentleman took out as much as his two hands would hold, to which Whitney made no objection, only remarking, with a smile, “I thought you would have had more conscience, sir.”
Whitney pursued his career of crime, but justice followed in his track. He was finally betrayed by one of his companions in iniquity, and being tried in London, received sentence of death. Inthe presence of a vast crowd, he acknowledged his guilt, and, at the early age of thirty-four years, was launched into eternity.
WolbyHENRY WOLBY.
HENRY WOLBY.
Thisindividual inherited a large estate, was bred at the university, and spent several years abroad in travelling. On his return, he married a lady of great beauty, and became in the course of time a man of great respectability, honored by the rich, blessed by the poor and respected by all.
When he was about forty years old, he had a dispute with his brother. He met him one day in the fields, and the latter snapped a pistol at him, which happily flashed in the pan. Thinking this was only done to frighten him, Wolby disarmed the ruffian, put the pistol in his pocket, and thoughtfully returned home.
On examining the weapon, he found that it was loaded with bullets. This had such an extraordinary effect upon his mind that he instantly determined to retire from the world, in which resolution he persisted to the end of his life.
He took a house in Grub street, London, and selected three rooms for himself, one for eating, one for lodging, and the third for study. He had no attendant but an old maid; and while his diet was set on the table by her, he retired into his lodging room, and into his study while his bed was making. Out of these chambers, from the time of his entry into them, he never issued, till he was carried thence, forty-four years after, on men’s shoulders; neither in all thattime did his son-in-law, daughter, or grand-child, brother, sister, or kinsman, young or old, rich or poor, of what degree or condition, soever, look upon his face, save the ancient maid, whose name was Elizabeth. She only made his fire, prepared his bed, provided his diet, and dressed his chambers. She saw him but seldom—never but in cases of extraordinary necessity—and died not above six days before him.
“In all the time of his retirement, he never tasted fish or flesh. His chief food was oatmeal gruel, but now and then in summer he had a sallad of choice cool herbs; and for dainties, when he would feast himself upon a high day, he would eat the yelk of a hen’s egg, but no part of the white. What bread he did eat, he cut out of the middle of the loaf, but the crust he never tasted. His constant drink was four shilling beer, and no other, for he never tasted wine or strong water. Now and then, when his stomach served, he did eat some kind of sackers, and now and then drank red cow’s milk, which his maid, Elizabeth, fetched him out of the fields warm from the cow. Nevertheless, he kept a bountiful table for his servants, and sufficient entertainment for any stranger or tenant who had occasion of business at his house. Every book that was printed, was bought for him, and conveyed to him; but such as related to controversy, he always laid aside and never read.
“In Christmas holidays, at Easter, and other festivals, he had great cheer provided, with all dishes in season, served into his own chamber, with store of wine, which his maid brought in. Then, after thanks to God for his good benefits, he would pin a clean napkin before him, and putting on a pair of clean Holland sleeves, which reached his elbows, cutting up dish after dish, in order; he would send one to one poor neighbor, the next to another, whether it were brawn, beef, capon, goose, &c., till he had left the table quite empty, when giving thanks again, he laid by his linen, and caused the cloth to be taken away; and this he would do, at dinner and supper, upon these days, without tasting of anything whatsoever.
“When any clamored impudently at the gate, they were not therefore immediately relieved; but when, from his private chamber, he spied any sick, weak, or lame, he would presently send after them, to comfort, cherish and strengthen them; and not a trifle, but as much as would relieve them for many days after. He would moreover inquire which of his neighbors were industrious, and had great charge of children: and withal, if their labor and industry could not supply their families, to such persons he would send, and relieve them according to their necessities. He died, October 29, 1636, aged eighty-four. At his death, his hair and beard were so overgrown, that he appeared rather like a hermit of the wilderness, than the inhabitant of one of the first cities in the world.”