The next character we shall introduce is a contrast to the former; he being famous for comprehension of mind, this for bulk of body.
Daniel Lambert, the Fat Man.—This prodigy of corpulence, or obesity, was born at Leicester, March 13, 1770. He became keeper of the prison in his native town. He first went to London for exhibition, in 1806, and was visited by persons of all ranks, and was considered the then wonder of the world. After this he travelled over England, and astonished every beholder by his immense bulk. He was very polite, shrewd, and well informed. This extraordinary man died at Stamford, on the 21st of June, 1809. He had travelled from Huntingdon to that town; and on the Tuesday before his death, he sent a message to the office of the Stamford newspaper, requesting, that “as the mountain could not wait upon Mahomet, Mahomet would go to the mountain;” or, in other words, that the printer would call upon him, and receive an order for executing some handbills, announcing Mr. Lambert’s arrival, and his desire to see company in that town. The orders he gave upon that occasion were delivered without any presentiment that they were to be his last, andwith his usual cheerfulness; he was then in bed, only fatigued from his journey, and anxious to be able to see company early in the morning. However, before nine o’clock, the day following, he was a corpse. His corpulency had been gradually increasing, until nature could no longer support it. He was in his 40th year; and upon being weighed within a few days, by the famous Caledonian balance, in the possession of Mr. King, of Ipswich, was found to be 52 stone, 11 lbs. in weight, (14 lb. to the stone,) which is 10 stone 11 lb. more than the great Mr. Bright, of Essex, weighed,—or, 6 cwt. 2 qrs. 11 lb.
He had apartments at Mr. Berridge’s, the Waggon-and-Horses, in St. Martin’s, on the ground floor, for he had long been incapable of walking up stairs. His coffin, in which there was great difficulty of placing him, was six feet four inches long, four feet four inches wide, and two feet four inches deep. The immense substance of his legs made it necessarily almost a square case. The celebrated Sarcophagus of Alexander, viewed with so much admiration at the British Museum, would not contain this immense sheer hulk. The coffin, which consisted of 112 superficial feet of elm, was built upon two axle-trees and four wheels, and upon them the remains of poor Lambert were rolled into his grave, which was in the new burial ground at the back of St. Martin’s church. A regular descent was made by cutting away the earth slopingly, for some distance. The window and wall of the room in which he lay was taken down, to allow of his exit.
Edward Nokes.—This was an extraordinary character, at Hornchurch, in Essex. He was by trade a tinker, which he followed zealously till about six weeks before his death. His apartments pourtrayed symptoms of the most abject poverty, though at his death he was found to be possessed of between five and six thousand pounds. He had a wife and several children, which he brought up in the most parsimonious manner, often feeding them on grains and offals of meat, which he purchased at reduced prices. He was no less remarkable in his person and dress; for, in order to save the expense of shaving, he would encourage the dirt to gather on his face, to hide in some measure this defect. He never suffered his shirt to be washed in water, but after wearing it till it became intolerably black, he used to wash it in urine, to save the expense of soap. His coat, which time had transformed into a jacket, would have puzzled the wisest philosopher to make out its original colour, so covered was it with shreds and patches of different colours, and those so diversified, as to resemble the trophies of the different nations of Europe, and it seemed to vie with Joseph’s coat of many colours.
The interest of his money, together with all he could heap up from his penurious mode of living, he used to deposit in a bag, which bag was covered up in a tin pot, and then conveyed to a brick kitchen, where one of the bricks was taken up, and a hole made just large enough to hold the pot; the brick was then carefully marked, and a tally kept behind the door, of the sum deposited. One day his wife discovered this hoard, and, resolving to profit by the opportunity, took from the pot one, of sixteen guineas that were then placed therein. Her husband soon discovered the trick, for when he came to count his money, on finding it not to agree with the tally behind the door, which his wife did not know of, he taxed her with the theft; and to the day of his death, even on his death-bed, he never spoke to her without adding the epithet ‘thief’ to every expression.
In his younger days, he used, at the death of any of his children, to have a deal box made to put them in; and with out undergoing the solemn requisites of a regular funeral, he would take them upon his shoulder to the place appropriated for their reception; where, once interred, he seemingly coincided with the old adage, “Out of sight, out of mind,” and appeared as unconcerned as if nothing had happened.
A short time before his death, which he evidently hastened by the daily use of nearly a quart of spirits, he gave strict charge that his coffin should not have a nail in it; which was actually the case, the lid being fastened with hinges made of cords; there was no plate on the coffin, but barely the initials “E. N.” cut out of the lid. His shroud was made of a pound of wool; the coffin was covered with a sheet instead of a pall, and was carried by six men, to each of whom he left half-a-crown: and, at his particular desire, not one who followed him to the grave wore mourning; but, on the contrary, each of the mourners seemed to try whose dress should be the most striking, even the undertaker being habited in a blue coat and scarlet waistcoat. He died without a will, and his fortune was equally divided between his wife and family. His death took place in 1802.
A Sketch ofthe Memoirs of the celebrated Swindler, Charles Price.
Even-handed justice returns the ingredientsOf our poison’d chalice to our own lips.Shakspeare.
In the following sketch we shall detail a series of singular facts, scarcely ever before equalled in the annals of depravity. By bringing forward such particulars, we may learn the progress of iniquity, teach the rising generation to guard against its first approaches, and warn our readers againstthose depredations which are daily infesting society. Such examples of wickedness are indeed humiliating to our nature, but they hold forth instructive lessons; in this point of view, they are well deserving of our contemplation.
Charles Price was born about the year 1730, in London: his father lived in Monmouth-street, and carried on the trade of a salesman in old clothes; here he died in the year 1750, of a broken heart, occasioned, it is said, by the bad conduct of his children.
In early life, Charles manifested those traits of duplicity for which he was afterwards so greatly distinguished. One instance shall be mentioned: he ripped off some gold lace from a suit of old clothes in his father’s shop, and putting on his elder brother’s coat, went to sell it to a Jew. The Jew, most unfortunately, came and offered it to the father for sale;—he instantly knew it, and insisted on the Jew declaring whence he received it. The boys passing by, he pointed to the elder one, on account of his coat, as the person of whom he bought it; and he was directly seized, and severely flogged: his protestations of innocence were in vain—the father was inflexible; whilst Charles, with an abominable relish for hypocrisy, secretly rejoiced in the castigation.
His father, tired of the tricks and knaveries of his son Charles, put him an apprentice to a hosier in St. James’s-street. Here he continued but for a short time. He robbed his father of an elegant suit of clothes, in which he dressed himself, went to his master in this disguise, purchased about ten pounds’ worth of silk stockings, left his address, “Benjamin Bolingbroke, Esq. Hanover-square,” and ordered them to be sent to him in an hour’s time, when he would pay the person who brought them. His master did not know him; and, to complete the cheat, our hero, coming back in half an hour in his usual dress, was ordered to take the goods home, which he actually pretended to do; and thus were both master and father robbed. He was, however, afterwards found out, and discarded: henceforward, therefore, we are to regard him in society, where he, for a series of years, practised the most outrageous arts of duplicity.
Soon after this period he set off for Holland, under the assumed name of Johnson. Forging a recommendation to a Dutch merchant, he became his clerk,—debauched his master’s daughter,—was offered her in marriage, robbed his employer, and returned to England. He conducted this business with the most consummate villany.
He now contrived to become clerk in his Majesty’s small-beer brewhouse, near Gosport. At this place he behaved himself with so much propriety, that he was on the point of forming a matrimonial connection with his master’s daughterevery thing, however, was soon laid aside by an accidental discovery: the Jew to whom he had formerly sold the gold lace happened to live at Portsmouth, by whom his character was soon disclosed, and spread abroad. Thus were his hopes put to flight, and he was again thrown upon the wide world.
As his wits were never long unemployed for some deceptive ends, he thought of advertising for a partner in the brewery line; and actually issued the following curious advertisement, in the year 1755:—
“Wanted,—A partner of character, probity, and extensive acquaintance, upon a plan permanent and productive,—fifty per cent, without risk, may be obtained. It is not necessary he should have any knowledge of the business, which the advertiser possesses in its fullest extent; but he must possess a capital of between 500 and 1000 pounds, to purchase materials, with which, to the knowledge of the advertiser, a large fortune must be made in a very short time.
“Address to P. C. Cardigan Head, Charing Cross.”
“P. S. None but principals, and those of liberal ideas, will be treated with.”
To this advertisement, the famous comedian, Samuel Foote, Esq. paid attention. Eager to seize what he thought a golden opportunity, he advanced the sum of £500 for a brewery: we need not add, that the sum soon disappeared, and Foote was wrung with the anguish of disappointment. Price, however, had the impudence to apply to him again, wishing him to unite in the baking trade: the comedian archly replied, “As you have brewed, so you may bake; but I’ll be hang’d if ever you bake as you have brewed!”
After this unfortunate business, Mr. Price turned Methodist preacher, and in this character defrauded several persons of large sums of money.
Advertising, in order to get gentlemenwives, he swindled a person of the name of Wigmore, of fifty guineas, for which he was indicted; but having refunded a part, effected his escape. These and other fraudulent practices were long the objects of his ambition, though they are all sure and certain roads to infamy: such was his strange propensity.
With astonishing impudence, he again set up a brewery in Gray’s-inn-lane; and, after various frauds, he became a bankrupt in 1776. Ever fruitful in resources, he set out for Germany; but in Holland he got into prison for being concerned in a smuggling scheme, by which three hundred pounds were obtained. By his artful defence he escaped, and returned to his native country. Here he once more engaged his attention by a sham brewery, at Lambeth, where he was married. Continuing, however, to practise his deceptions, he wasobliged to decamp, went actually to Copenhagen, and, after some time, came back to England, where he was doomed to close his days.
His breweries having failed, he now proceeded to study how in other ways he might most effectually ravage society. Under the pretence of charity, he obtained money, for which he was imprisoned; and having been liberated, he succeeded in various impositions as a clergyman. This eventually brought him to the King’s Bench prison, from whose walls he dexterously extricated himself.
A lottery-office-keeper was the next subject of his attention; but decamping with a ticket of very large value, this scheme speedily came to a termination. To recount all his tricks, would form the contents of a well-sized volume. Alas for human depravity!
But we now arrive at that period of our hero’s life, when he commenced his ravages upon the Bank of England, which ended in his destruction. Such a series of iniquitous devices were never before practised on mankind.
In the year 1780, under the assumed name of “Brank,” Mr. Price engaged a servant, a plain, simple, honest fellow, by whom he passed his notes without detection. He advertised for him, and their meeting was truly curious. Having received a reply to the advertisement, one evening, just as it was dark, he, driving to the person’s residence, sent the coachman to inquire for the man who had answered the advertisement, saying, “There was a gentleman over the way, in a coach, who wanted to speak with him.” On this, the young fellow was called, and went to the coach, where he was desired to step in. There he saw an apparently old man, affecting the foreigner, seemingly very gouty, wrapped up with five or six yards of flannel about his legs, a camblet surtout buttoned over his chin, close to his mouth, a large patch over his left eye, and every part of his face so hid, that the young fellow could not see any part of it, except his nose, his right eye, and a small part of that cheek. To carry on the deception still better, Mr. Price thought proper to place the man on his left side, on which the patch was, so that the old gentleman could take an askance look at the young man with his right eye, and by that means discover only a small portion of his own face. He appeared, by this disguise, to be between sixty and seventy years of age; and afterwards, when the man saw him standing, not much under six feet high, owing to boots or shoes with heels very little less than three inches high. Added to this deception, he was so buttoned up and straightened, as to appear perfectly lank.
The writer of his life, to whom we are indebted for these particulars, then subjoins:—“It may not be ill-timed, tothose who did not know him, to give the true description of his person. He was about five feet six inches high; a compact neat-made man, square shouldered, inclined to corpulency; his legs were firm and well set; but by nature his features made him look much older than he really was, which, at that time, was nearly fifty; his nose was aquiline, and his eyes small and gray; his mouth stood very much inwards, with very thin lips; his chin pointed and prominent; with a pale complexion: but what contributed as much as any thing to favour his disguise of speech was, his loss of teeth. He walked exceedingly upright, was very active and quick in his walk, and was something above what we describe a man to be, when we call him “a dapper-made man.”
This simple and honest fellow (Samuel) Mr. Price employed to negociate his forged bills, principally in the purchase of lottery tickets, at the same time never fully disclosing to him his name, person, or history. Indeed, the plan was devised and executed with uncommon ability. However, at last Samuel was detected, having passed bills to the amount offourteen hundred pounds!! but his agent eluded discovery, and retired with his booty into the shades of the deepest obscurity. The poor servant was imprisoned for nearly a twelvemonth, terrified out of his wits, being the innocent instrument of such complicated villany.
Mr. Price, having most probably exhausted his former acquisitions, sallied forth, in the year 1782, after new game, with the most unparalleled audacity. For this purpose, he obtained his second servant, from a register-office, a smart active boy, of the name of Power: his father was a Scotch presbyterian; and, to ingratiate himself with him, Mr. Price made great pretensions to religion, expressing a hope that his son was well acquainted with the Lord’s Prayer, and the Ten Commandments. Our hero began his ravages upon Mr. Spilsbury, of Soho-square, ordering large quantities of his drops. Wilmot was his present assumed name, and he introduced himself to him as possessing all the symptoms of age and infirmity. He was wrapped up in a large camblet great coat; he had a slouched hat on, the brim of which was large, and bent downward on each side of his head; a piece of red flannel covered his chin, and came up on each side of his face almost as high as his cheek-bones; he had a large bush wig on, and legs wrapped over with flannel; he had also a pair of green spectacles on his nose, with a green silk shade hanging down from his hat, but no patch on his eye.
It is remarkable that Mr. Spilsbury knew Mr. Price, but not Mr. Wilmot; nay, so complete was the deception, that as they sat together in a coffee-house, Mr. S. complained to his coffee-house acquaintance, of the notes which Wilmot had imposedupon him, Price crying out now and then, “Lack-a-day! Good God! who could conceive such knavery to exist? What, and did the Bank refuse payment, Sir?” staring through his spectacles with as much seeming surprise as an honest man would have done. “O yes,” (said Mr. S.) with some degree of acrimony, “for it was on the faith of the Bank of England, that I and a great many others have taken them; and they were so inimitably well done, that the nicest judges could not distinguish them.”—“Good God! Lack-a-day! (said Price,) he must have been an ingenious villain! What a complete old scoundrel!”
Upon Mr. Watt a hosier, Mr. Reeves a colourman, and a great many other individuals, he practised frauds equally ingenious and successful, for in one day he negociated sixty ten-pound-notes, and changed fourteen fifty-pound notes for seven one-hundred-pound notes; indeed, so multiplied were his tricks at this period, that the mind sickens at the recital of them.
In his last attempt on the Bank, which ended in his detection, he assumed the name of Palton, pretended he was an Irish linen factor, and employed two young men to circulate his notes, whilst he still, greatly disguised, kept back in obscurity. By means of a pawnbroker, he was found out with great difficulty. On his seizure, he solemnly declared his innocence, and before the magistrate behaved with insolence. This detection took place on the 14th of January, 1786: he was soon sworn to by more persons than one; and seeing no way of escape, he pretended, to his wife in particular, great penitence; but there appeared no ground for its reality. The Bank was fully intent on the prosecution of him, and there was no doubt of his dying by the hands of the executioner. He, however, was found one evening hanging against the post of his door, in his apartments, Tothill-fields bridewell. Thus was the earth freed from as great a monster as ever disgraced society.
It may appear strange to the reader that this depraved impostor could have so long escaped discovery. But it must be added, that besides the multifarious disguises of his person, he had taken care to prevent almost the possibility of detection. To use the words of the writer of his life—“Had Mr. Price permitted a partner in his proceedings, had he employed an engraver, had he procured paper to be made for him with water-marks put into it, he must have been soon discovered; but Price was without a confidant: he engraved his own plates, made his own paper, with the water-marks, and his negociator never knew him, thereby confining a secret to his own breast, which he wisely deemed not safe in the breast of another; even Mrs. Price had not the least knowledge or suspicion of his proceedings. Having practised engraving till he had madehimself sufficiently master of it, he then made his own ink, to prove his own works; having purchased implements, and manufactured the water-marks, he next set himself to counterfeit hand-writings, and succeeded so far, as even to puzzle a part of the first body of men in the world. The abilities of the unhappy Ryland were exerted in his profession, and therefore the imposition was to be less wondered at; but here was a novice in the art, capable of equal ingenuity in every department of the dangerous undertaking, from the engraving down to the publication.”
Whoever reads this narrative with attention, must feel rising within his breast a series of useful reflections. That such talents should be appropriated to such a use, must be deeply regretted; but that any individual should, throughout life, thus prey on his fellow-creatures, excites the strongest detestation. Society also may learn lessons of caution and vigilance from the contemplation of the extraordinary character we have delineated. Vice here appears in its most odious features, that of meditated imposition upon the honest and industrious part of the community. Mark, however, its serpentine progress and its wretched termination.
The eccentric Stephenson.—A person of the name of Stephenson, who died at Kilmarnock, in Scotland, in 1817, came originally from Dunlop, and was brought up as a mason, but during many of the latter years of his life he had wandered about as a beggar. His wife and himself had been separated thirty years, upon these strange conditions,—that the first who proposed an agreement should forfeit £100. This singular pair never met again. Stephenson was much afflicted, during the last two years of his life, with the stone. As his disease increased, he was fully aware of his approaching dissolution; and for this event he made the following extraordinary preparation:—He sent for a baker, and ordered twelve dozen of burial cakes, and a great profusion of sugar biscuit, together with a corresponding quantity of wine and spirituous liquors. He next sent for a joiner, and ordered a coffin decently mounted, with instructions that the wood should be quite dry, and the joints firm, and impervious to the water. The grave-digger was next sent for, and asked if he thought he could find a place to put him in after he was dead. The spot fixed upon was in the church-yard of Riccarton, a village about half a mile distant. He enjoined the sexton to be sure and make his grave roomy, and in a dry comfortable corner; and he would be well rewarded for his care and trouble. Having made these arrangements, he ordered the old woman that attended him, to go to a certain nook, and bring out £9, to be appropriated to defray the funeral charges.He told her, at the same time, not to be grieved,—that he had not forgotten her in his will. In a few hours afterwards, in the full exercise of his mental powers, but in the most excruciating agonies, he expired.
A neighbour and a professional man were immediately sent for, to examine and seal up his effects. The first thing they found was a bag, containing large silver pieces, such as crowns, half-crowns, and dollars, to a large amount: in a corner was secreted, amongst a vast quantity of musty rags, a great number of guineas and seven-shilling pieces. In his trunk was a bond for £300, and other bonds and securities to the amount of £900. By his will, £20 were left to his housekeeper, and the rest of his property to be divided among his distant relations. As it required some time to give his relatives intimation of his death, and to make preparations for his funeral, he lay in state four days, during which the place resembled more an Irish wake than a deserted room where the Scots lock up their dead. The invitations to his funeral were most singular. Persons were not asked individually, but whole families; so that, except a few relatives dressed in black, his obsequies were attended by tradesmen in their working clothes, barefooted boys and girls, and an immense crowd of tattered beggars; to the aged among whom he left six-pence, and to the younger three-pence. After the interment, this motley group retired to a large barn, fitted up for the purpose, where a scene of profusion and inebriety was exhibited almost without a parallel.
Whimsical Character.—The Rev. Mr.Hagamore, of Catshoge, Leicestershire, was a very singular character. He died the 1st of January, 1776, possessed of the following effects, viz.—£700 per annum, and £1000 in money, which, as he died intestate, fell to a ticket-porter in London. He kept one servant of each sex, whom he locked up every night. His last employment of an evening was to go round his premises, let loose his dogs, and fire his gun. He lost his life as follows: Going one morning to let out his servants, the dogs fawned upon him suddenly, and threw him into a pond, where he was found dead. His servants heard his call for assistance, but being locked up, they could not lend him any. He had 30 gowns and cassocks, 100 pair of breeches, 100 pair of boots, 400 pair of shoes, 80 wigs, yet always wore his own hair, 58 dogs, 80 waggons and carts, 80 ploughs, and used none, 50 saddles, and furniture for the menage, 30 wheelbarrows, so many walking-sticks, that a toyman in Leicester-fields offered £8 for them, 60 horses and mares, 200 pickaxes, 200 spades and shovels, 74 ladders, and 249 razors.
Extraordinary Character.—In July, 1818, A. M.Cromwell, of Hammersmith, died suddenly in Tottenham-court-road: he was returning from the corn-market, when he was taken ill, and carried, in a dying state, into the house of a corn-chandler, in Tottenham-court-road. The master of the shop, who knew him, was from home, and in the country. The mistress did not know him, and he was therefore treated with no more attention from her than humanity dictated.
He remained in the shop, and a crowd was collected in consequence. His dress not bespeaking him a man of wealth or respectability, he was about to be removed to the parish workhouse. However, some gentlemen passing by chance, recognized him; and, knowing him to be a wealthy man, thought it right to search his person in the presence of several witnesses, when they found bank-notes to the amount of £1500. A surgeon was sent for, who attended, and examined him; and declared, that, in his opinion, he had been dying during the last two hours, in consequence of the breaking of a blood-vessel, supposed to be near his heart. It is said he was worth two millions and a half. He was 75 years old, and had been accumulating property for a great number of years, living at the most trifling expense. He frequently bought his clothes in Monmouth-street, and wore them as long as they would hang together: his breeches were very greasy and ragged; his stockings usually contained many holes; in fact, he could not be distinguished by his dress from his men. In the summer season he was frequently up at three o’clock, attending to and assisting in loading the brick carts, &c. &c. His wealth did not improve or alter his conduct, manners, or mode of living. He provided plenty of food for the house, but it was in a very rough style;—fat pork, fat bacon, &c. and sometimes poultry. His hog-feeders and other men sat at table with him in their working-dress; and, if a friend happened to dine with him, his men were made company for them, and he did not deviate from his daily plan of helping them first.
Indian Jugglers; (seepages 62 and 63.)—The Indian jugglers, who exhibited in London from 1810 to 1815, performed such astonishing feats, that it would appear to require a long life, spent in incessant practice, to acquire facility in any one of them; such proficiency is so common, however, in India, that it probably excites no extraordinary interest there. The following is a description of their performances, which were witnessed by the editor of this work.
The exhibition takes place upon a raised platform, on which, having performed his salaam, or eastern obeisance, the chief performer takes his seat; and behind him sits thesecond juggler, and an attendant boy, whose occupation is to beat together two metallic plates, somewhat resembling cymbals, which emit an unremitting sound, like the clucking of a hen.
The first tricks are performed with cups and balls. These are similar in their mode to the deceptions of our own conjurers, and only remarkable for the superiority of their evolutions in the hands of this celebrated Asiatic. The cups seem enchanted; the balls fly; they increase in number; they diminish; now one, now two, now none under the cup; and now the serpent, thecobra de capella, usurps the place of a small globule of cork, and winds its snaky folds as if from under the puny vessel. The facility with which this dexterous feat is accomplished, gives life and animation to the sable countenance of the artist, whose arm is bared to the elbow, to shew that the whole is done by sleight of hand. During his performances, the juggler keeps up an unremitting noise, striking his tongue against his teeth, like the clack of machinery, and uttering sounds, as if he were repeating, with inconceivable rapidity, the words “Crickery-tick, crickery-tick, crickery-tick, a-tow, geret-tow, crickery-tick, a-tow, geret-tow, &c.”
The next feat is that of breaking a cotton thread into the consistency of scraped lint, as used by surgeons, and reproducing it continued and entire; after which he lays upon the palm of his hand a small quantity of common sand; this he rubs with the fingers of his other hand, and it changes its hue—the colourless grains become yellow; he rubs them again, they are white; again, and they are black.
A series of evolutions then succeeds, with four hollow brass balls, about the size of oranges. His power over these is almost miraculous. He causes them to describe every possible circle—horizontally, perpendicularly, obliquely, transversely, round his legs, under his arms, about his head, in small and in large circumferences—with wondrous rapidity, and keeping the whole number in motion at the same time. This being the sole fruit of effort, activity, quickness of eye, and rapidity of action, no one who has not witnessed it can form an idea of its excellence. He then exhibits his astonishing power of balancing. He places on his two great toes (over which he seems to have the same command that less favoured whites enjoy over their fingers only) a couple of thin rings, of about four inches in diameter; a pair of similar rings he places on his fore fingers, and then he sets the whole into rotation, and round they all whirl, and continue describing their orbits without cessation, as if set to work by machinery, endowed with the principle of perpetual motion. Throwing himself back, the performer then balances a sword upon his forehead,and with his mouth strings a number of very small beads upon a hog’s bristle, which he holds between his lips. All the wheels are kept in regular movement; the sword is nicely poised; and arts and manufactures, under the emblem of bead-stringing, carried on in peacefulness: during this part of the show, the performer is compelled, from the nature of his employment, to be still and quiet.
Having concluded this, the juggler executes the following exploit.—Upon the tip of his nose he balances a small wooden parasol, from the circumference of which about a dozen of cork tassels are pendent. With his mouth he inserts into each of these tassels a quill of about the length of twelve inches, and the thickness of that of the porcupine. The bases of these he places with his tongue between his upper lip and nose, the rings on his toes all the while performing their circuits. Having succeeded in putting a quill into every tassel, he takes out the centre stick on which the parasol was originally supported from the top of his nose, and it then remains balanced on the quills. Thus far the work is difficult enough; but this is nothing to its conclusion. He undermines his structure by a quill at a time, till only three remain. Of these he takes one away; and the top, which resembles the roof of a pagoda, swings down, and hangs by two, the Indian preserving the astonishing balance even throughout this motion, which might be deemed sufficient to disconcert any human ingenuity: but even here he does not stop; the last prop but one is removed, and on that one the erect balance of the machine rests.
After a variety of other extraordinary performances, the Indian places a stone of fourteen pounds weight, about the size and shape of a Dutch cheese, between his feet. With an apparently slight exertion, he kicks up his heels, and the stone, performing a parabola over his head from behind, alights upon the bend of his arm, where it rests. He then tosses it to the same part of the other arm, where it rests, as if held by the hand, or caught by magic; thence he throws it to various parts of his frame, to his wrist, and the back of his neck. At this latter point it might be supposed it would be stationary, as one feels very little capacity of twisting any weighty body from the neck in a direction different from what it would take on being shaken off. But even here our juggler commands its obedience. He again tosses it to his arm; back again to his neck; and after a few gambols of this sort, he finally, by a masterly jerk, throws the stone of fourteen pounds weight round his head.
The famous feat of swallowing the sword closes this wonderful exhibition; for a description of which, the reader is referred topage 63.
John Metcalf, or Blind Jack of Knaresborough.—This extraordinary character was born in 1717, and died in 1798. When four years old, his parents, who were working people, put him to school, soon after which he was seized with the small-pox, by which he became totally blind, though all possible means were used to preserve his sight. Recovering from the small-pox, he found that he was able to go from his father’s house to the end of the street, and return, without a guide; and, in the space of three years, he could find his way to any part of the town, which gave him much satisfaction. In process of time, he began to associate with the neighbouring boys, of his own age, and went with them to take birds’ nests. For his share of the eggs and young birds, he was to climb the trees, whilst his companions waited at the bottom to receive what he should throw down. After that, he could ramble into the fields alone, frequently to the distance of two or three miles; and, his father keeping horses, he in time became an able horseman, and a gallop was his favourite pace. At the age of thirteen, being taught music, he became very expert, though he had more taste for the cry of the hounds than for any instrument. A Mr. Woodburn, of Knaresborough, master of a pack of hounds, used to take young Metcalf to hunt with him; and he having a couple and a half of good ones of his own, used to go out at a night when the hares were feeding; but one of his young dogs happening to worry a couple of lambs, Metcalf was obliged to discontinue this practice. At about fourteen years of age he learned to swim in the river Nidd; but few of his companions liked to come near him in the water, it being his custom to seize them, send them to the bottom, and swim over them by way of diversion.
Having practised on the violin till he could play country dances, he attended several assemblies, and to his fondness for hunting, added that of cock-fighting; and, if at any time he heard of a better game-cock than his own, he would be sure to get him by some means or other, though at ever so great a distance. In fact, his fame began to spread to such a degree, that when any arch trick was done, inquiry was sure to be made, where Blind Jack was at the time. In 1732, Metcalf succeeded the fiddler at Harrowgate, who died in the 102d year of his age; after this he bought a horse, and often ran him for small plates; and for some time, hunting by day, and fiddling by night, were his principal occupations. Soon after this, as Metcalf had learned to walk and ride very readily through most of the streets in York, he one evening offered himself as a guide to a gentleman who wanted to go to Knaresborough that night, and absolutely performed it, the gentleman not even suspecting that he was blind till theycame to their journey’s end. This the gentleman was told at the sign of the Granby, just as he had entered the parlour. Expressing some doubt of this to the landlord’s question, “Do you not know that he is blind?” he exclaimed, “What do you mean by that?”—“I mean sir, that he cannot see.”—“Blind! gracious God!”—“Yes sir, as blind as a stone.” Metcalf was then called in, and the gentleman’s doubts were immediately dissipated.
In 1745, during the rebellion, as Captain Thornton undertook to raise a company at his own expense, and knowing Metcalf’s turn of mind, engaged him as a musician to his corps. As Metcalf was then nearly six feet two inches high, and being, like his companions, dressed in blue and buff, with a large gold-laced hat, the captain was so well pleased with him, that he said he would give one hundred guineas for only one eye to be put into the head of his dark companion. During the rebellion, afterseeingmuch service, and being particularly noticed by the duke of Cumberland, he was discharged, and being at liberty to choose his occupation, he attended Harrowgate as before; but having, in the course of his Scotch expedition, become acquainted with the various articles manufactured in that country, he provided himself with several in the cotton and worsted way, especially Aberdeen stockings, for all which he found a ready sale in the extensive county of York. Among a thousand articles, he never was at a loss to know what each had cost him, from a particular mode of marking. It was also customary with him to buy horses for sale in Scotland, bringing back galloways in return. In this traffic he depended on feeling the animals to direct his choice. In 1754, Metcalf set up a stage waggon between York and Knaresborough, being the first of the kind known on that road. This he constantly conducted himself, going twice a week in summer, and once in the winter; but at length, turning his attention to the making of roads, he disposed of his waggon, &c. His first undertaking of this kind was three miles of the new turnpike road from Harrowgate to Boroughbridge; and for this he was actually appointed foreman to the surveyor.
He often walked from Knaresborough in the morning, with four or five stone of meat on his shoulders, and joined his men by six o’clock. By the means he used, he completed the work much sooner than was expected, to the entire satisfaction of the surveyor and the trustees. During his leisure hours he studied measurement in a way of his own; and, when certain of the girth and length of any piece of timber, he was able to reduce its true contents to feet and inches, and could bring the dimensions of any building into yards or feet. In fact, he contracted for, and constructed several roads, in amanner superior to the method of making them at that time. He built various bridges in difficult situations, in a manner that astonished those that employed him, and afterwards undertook the erection of houses. One of his bridges, it was remarked, had stood thirty years, and the foundation never cost one penny in repairs.
In 1792, having been some time absent, he returned to Yorkshire, and, having no engagement, he bought hay to sell again: he used to measure the stacks with his arms, and knowing the height, could readily tell what number of square yards were contained in hay, from five to one hundred pounds value; with equal facility he could calculate the solid contents of standing wood. Having known the streets of York very accurately in the earlier part of his life, he determined to visit that ancient city, where he had not been for the space of thirty-two years. He found alterations for the better in Spurrier-gate, Blake-street, the Pavement, &c. and so retentive was his memory, that, though so many years had elapsed since he had been that way before, he discovered an alteration in the hanging of two gates by a wall-side near the house of a Mr. Barlow. His wife died in 1778, in her 61st year, leaving him four children, after 39 years of conjugal affection and felicity.
Mrs.Van Butchell.—In 1775, died the wife of an eccentric empiric, Dr. Martin Van Butchell; and the singular mode employed for the preservation of her body merits notice. On her death taking place, he applied to Dr. Hunter, to exert his skill in preventing, if possible, the changes of form usual after the cessation of life. Accordingly, the doctor, assisted by the late Mr. Cruikshank, injected the blood-vessels with a coloured fluid, so that the minute red vessels of the cheeks and lips were filled, and exhibited their native hue; and the body in general, having all the cavities filled with antiseptic substances, remained perfectly free from corruption, or any unpleasant smell, and as if it was merely in a state of sleep. But to resemble the appearance of life, glass eyes were also inserted. The corpse was then deposited in a bed of thin paste of plaster of Paris, in a box of sufficient dimensions, which subsequently crystallized, and produced a pleasing effect. A curtain covered the glass lid of the box, which could be withdrawn at pleasure; and which box being kept in the common parlour, Mr. Van Butchell had the satisfaction of retaining his departed wife for many years, frequently displaying the beautiful corpse to his friends and visitors. A second marriage, some years afterwards, is said to have occasioned some family difference, and it was found expedient to remove the preserved body.
Harrison, a Penurious Character.—This person died in November, 1821, in Bennett-street, Rathbone-place, Oxford-road, London, where he had lodged 20 years. The furniture of his room consisted of one old chair, a table, a trunk or two, an old stump bedstead, and a bed of straw; in one corner was a heap of ashes; and the cupboard, the day after his decease, contained a few potato-peelings and a stale roll. His body presented a picture of the most extreme misery and starvation, though he had no family, and had property in the funds to the amount of £1500. A female friend who lived at Putney, and was in the habit of calling on him when she came to town, deposed, that he would let no person but her enter his room, which he always kept padlocked inside, for fear of being robbed: he lay on his bed in the day-time, and sat up at night without any fire, always burning a lamp. A few evenings before his death, he told the female before-mentioned, that many persons wanted to finger his cash, but they should not. He then desired her to lock him in, and take the key with her, which she did; but, on going again next day, she found him lying on his bed with his clothes on, quite dead. He had made his will several months before, and left her executrix of his property, which was to be divided between herself, his nephew, and niece. He had been married, and had a daughter, who, with his wife, were both dead. He carried large sums of money sewed up in different parts of his clothes, for which reason he never pulled them off. Upwards of £100 was found upon him at the time of his death, on the night previous to which he sent for one oyster, half a pint of beer, and a pennyworth of figs, which he ate. For nearly four years previous to his decease, he appeared almost childish. The jury that sat upon the body, brought in their verdict,—Died by the visitation of God.
The Blind Clergyman.—The following very interesting account was published in the Morning Chronicle of Jan. 21, 1791. It bears all the marks of authenticity.
“In my rambles (says the writer) last summer, on the borders of Wales, I found myself one morning on the banks of the beautiful river Wye, alone, without a servant or guide. I had to ford the river at a place where, according to the instructions given me at the nearest hamlet, if I diverged ever so little from the marks which the ripling of the current made as it passed over a ledge of rock, I should sink twice the depth of myself and horse. While I stood hesitating on the margin, viewing attentively the course of the ford, a person passed me on the canter, and the next instant I saw him plunge into the river. Presuming on his acquaintance with the passage, I immediately and closely followed his steps. As soonas we had gained the opposite bank, I accosted him with thanks for the benefit of his guidance; but what was my astonishment, when, bursting into a hearty laugh, he observed, that “my confidence would have been less, had I known that I had been following a blind guide.” The manner of the man, as well as the fact, attracted my curiosity. To my expressions of surprise at his venturing to cross the river alone, he answered, that he and the horse he rode had done the same every Sunday morning for the last five years; but that in reality, this was not the most perilous part of his hebdomadal peregrination, as I should be convinced, if my way led over the mountain before us. My way wasad libitum, at pleasure; I therefore resolved to attach myself to my extraordinary companion, and soon learned in our chat, as we wound up the steep mountain’s side, that he was a clergyman, and of that class which is the disgrace of our ecclesiastical establishment; I mean the country curates, who exist upon theliberalstipend of thirty, twenty, and sometimes fifteen pounds a year! This gentleman, of the age of sixty, had about thirty years before been engaged in the curacy to which he was now travelling; and though at the distance of eight long Welsh miles from the place of his residence, such was the respect of his Sunday flock towards him, that at the commencement of his calamity, rather than part with him, they sent regularly, every Sunday morning, a deputation to guide their old pastor along a road, which, besides the river we had just passed, led over a craggy mountain, on whose top innumerable and uncertain bogs were constantly forming, and which, nevertheless, by the instinct of his Welsh pony, this blind man has actually crossed alone for the last five years, having so long dismissed the assistance of guides.
“While our talk beguiled our road, we insensibly arrived within sight of his village church. It was seated in a deep and narrow vale. As I looked down upon it, the bright verdure of the meadows, which were here and there chequered with patches of yellow corn, the moving herds of cattle, the rich foliage of the groves of oak, hanging irregularly over its sides, the white houses of the inhabitants, which sprinkled every corner of this peaceful retreat; and above all, the inhabitants themselves, assembled in their best attire round their place of weekly worship; all this gay scene rushing at once on the view, struck my senses and imagination more forcibly than I can express. As we entered the church-yard, the respectful “How do you do?” of the young, the hearty shakes by the hand of the old, and the familiar gambols of the children, shewed how their old pastor reigned in the hearts of all. After some refreshment at the nearest house, we went to church, in which my veteran priest read the prayers, thepsalms, and chapters of the day, and then preached a sermon in a manner that would have made no one advert to his defect of sight. At dinner, which it seems four of the most substantial farmers of the vale provided in turn, he related the progress of his memory. For the first year he attempted only the prayers and sermons, the best readers of the parish making it a pride to officiate for him in the psalms and chapters. He next endured the labour of getting these by heart; and at present, by continual repetition, there is not a psalm or chapter of the more than two hundred appointed for the Sunday service, that he is not perfect in. He told me also, that having in his little school two sons of his own, intended for the university, he has, by hearing them continually, committed the greatest part of Homer and Virgil to his memory.”
We shall now introduce to the notice of the reader, a living character,—a child, a little girl,—the most extraordinary that ever appeared in the world.
Miss Clara Fisher.—This little lady, the youngest daughter of Mr. G. F. Fisher, a respectable auctioneer, of London, was born in Covent-garden, on the 14th of July, 1811. At a very early age, she evinced powers of intellect and genius very unusual in infants. A passionate fondness for music was a first characteristic; and while yet in the arms of a nurse, she was excited to pleasurable emotions, when tunes which she liked were played, but shewed the most determined opposition in her power, to the continuance of those to which she had conceived an aversion. This fact is recorded in the writings of Anthony Pasquin, in his Dramatic Censor, as an instance of wonderfully premature infantine endowment.
The fame which Miss O’Neil had acquired soon after her appearance in London, induced Mr. Fisher to take his family to Covent-garden theatre, to witness her performance of Jane Shore; and to the impression made that night on the mind of little Clara, may be ascribed the wonderful turn for theatrical exhibition, which has ever since characterized this juvenile candidate for histrionic fame. On the same evening, after returning from the theatre, Clara retired to a corner of the room, and, as she thought, unseen, went through, in dumb show, a great part of the performances she had witnessed at the theatre. These evident symptoms of dramatic genius in a child, then under four years of age, excited much surprise and pleasure amongst the family circle. A few evenings afterwards, she was persuaded to repeat this primary exhibition before some private friends, and the applause which she elicited seemed to implant in her young mind that ardent love for the stage, which thenceforward has guided all her thoughts and actions.
In the autumn of 1817, Dr. D. Corrie, the celebrated musician, and composer of the music of the Travellers, solicited and received permission for little Clara to appear in a private performance with his juvenile pupils in music. A short character was assigned to little Clara to learn; and she performed it with an effect which excited the astonishment and admiration of a select and fashionable company, who had met to witness the efforts of the juvenile performers. From the success of this evening’s amusement, may be dated Miss Clara’s introduction to public notice. On the 10th of December following, she appeared in Drury-lane theatre, in Garrick’s romance of Lilliput; revived and altered, with songs, prologue, epilogue, and a masque, written by Mr. Fisher; and in which was introduced the last act of Shakspeare’s Richard III. in order to bring forward the little Clara in the character of the crookbacked tyrant. Her success in this arduous character was beyond all anticipation: for seventeen nights the house was crowded in every part, and the applause bestowed on the extraordinary infant, then only six years and a half old, was enthusiastic and incessant. The public journals published in London during the run of the piece, bear ample testimony of the high estimation in which the best critics of the day held the talents of the young actress. Immediately after the close of her engagement at Drury-lane, she was applied for by Mr. Harris, of Covent-garden theatre, where she performed with equal success and approbation. On one occasion, his present Majesty, then Prince of Wales, honoured the theatre with his presence, and was pleased cordially to join in the general plaudits of the audience. After the part of Richard III. was concluded, she appeared in her own infantine character, and delivered the following epilogue, written by her father, with a pathos and feeling which powerfully affected the auditors:—
Well, Sirs, what say you to our little play—Must it expire, or live another day?Will you permit once more our group to tryTo raise your laughter, or to make you cry?My spangled robes laid by, and waving plume,In muslin frock my sex I re-assume;And though in simple dress I’m now array’d,I hope you’ll not reject a little maid,Who sues for favour, for herself, and those,Who, like herself, are now in common clothes.And I assure you, ladies, from my heart,I like my robes much better than my part;The shining spangles are to me so dear,I’m come to ask—may I again appear?O! pray indulge me in this one request,And I will strive to please you,—and be drest!
On leaving Covent-garden, she was engaged by Mr. Elliston to perform at the Birmingham theatre, as a star, for some nights; after which she appeared in Bath, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Aberdeen, York, Doncaster, Hull, Brighton, and every theatre of consequence, in the kingdom.
Miss Clara Fisher has at this time, 1822, been on the boards more than four years, and has already performed in about one hundred theatres. She has travelled through various parts of Great Britain, a distance of upwards of ten thousand miles; and she has performed in Shakspeare’s character of Richard III. more than two hundred and fifty times, besides other arduous parts in the various departments of the English drama. Her singing and dancing are equal to her other accomplishments, and yield delight to all who witness them. Bring yet but eleven years of age, she will furnish for the future historian a rare instance of precocity of intellect. She is gracefully formed, but not tall of her age; her face is oval, and full of expression; her eyes blue, large, and animated; her mouth particularly well moulded; and her hand and arm are considered by artists as uncommonly beautiful for her years. The general opinion of critics is, that she resembles in voice, and manner of acting, the late celebrated Mrs. Jordan.
An authentic anecdote is related of our heroine, which places, in a strong point of view, her felicitous conception of character, and her extraordinary collectedness and presence of mind, under circumstances, which, in all probability, would confuse and flutter even a long-experienced actor. Immediately after leaving Drury-lane, she performed for Mr. Elliston, at Birmingham. A new and elegant crown was there made for her, that she might appear to advantage in the character of Richard III. The crown was accidentally made too small, and was with difficulty kept on the head. When Richard (personated by this little lady) descended from the throne, in the presence of his nobles, and was delivering one of his most impassioned speeches, the crown fell off upon the stage. Contrary to the natural expectation of all, little Clara took no notice of the circumstance, but concluded her speech with the same energy and commanding deportment with which it commenced; and then beckoning to Catesby to approach, “Catesby!” said she, pointing to the fallen diadem, and stood erect and motionless, with the haughty dignity of monarchy, until, the brief mandate understood, he lifted it, and solemnly replaced it upon her brows. Thus, when a less-gifted performer would have found it difficult to save the whole scene from derision, did she sternly maintain the regal character she had assumed; and commanded the respect, surprise, and admiration of the audience.
Earth Eaters; from Humboldt’s Personal Narrative.—“The inhabitants of Umana belong to those nations of the savannas, [Indios andantes,] who, more difficult to civilize than the nations of the forest, [Indios del monte,] have a decided aversion to cultivate the land, and live almost exclusively on hunting and fishing. They are men of a very robust constitution; but ugly, savage, vindictive, and passionately fond of fermented liquors. They are omnivorousanimalsin the highest degree; and therefore the other Indians, who consider them as barbarians, have a common saying, ‘Nothing is so disgusting, that an Otomac will not eat it.’ While the waters of the Oroonoko and its tributary streams are low, the Otomacs subsist on fish and turtles; the former they kill with surprising dexterity, by shooting them with an arrow, when they appear at the surface of the water. When the rivers swell, which in South America, as well as in Egypt and in Nubia, is erroneously attributed to the melting of the snows, and which occurs periodically in every part of the torrid zone, fishing almost entirely ceases. It is then as difficult to procure fish in the rivers, which are become deeper, as when you are sailing on the open sea. It often fails the poor missionaries, on fast-days as well as flesh-days, though all the young Indians are under the obligation of ‘fishing for the convent.’ At the period of these inundations, which last two or three months, the Otomacs swallow a prodigious quantity of earth. We found heaps of balls in their huts, piled up in pyramids, three or four feet high. These balls were five or six inches in diameter. The earth which the Otomacs eat is a very fine and unctuous clay, of a yellowish gray colour; and, being slightly baked in the fire, the hardened crust has a tint inclining to red, owing to the oxide which is mingled with it. We brought away some of this earth, which we took from the winter provision of the Indians; and it is absolutely false that it is steatitic, and contains magnesia. Mr. Vanquelin did not discover any traces of this earth in it; but he found that it contained more silex than alumine, and three or four per cent. of lime.
“The Otomacs do not eat every kind of clay indifferently; they choose the alluvial beds or strata that contain the most unctuous earth, and is the smoothest to the feeling. I inquired of the missionary, whether the moistened clay were made to undergo, as Father Gumilla asserts, the peculiar decomposition which is indicated by a disengagement of carbonic acid and sulphuretted hydrogen, and which is designated in every language by the termputrefaction; but he assured me, that the natives neither cause the clay to rot, nor do they mingle it with flour of maize, oil of turtles’ eggs or fat of the crocodile. We ourselves examined, both at theOroonoko, and after our return to Paris, the balls of earth which we brought away with us, and found no trace of the mixture of any organic substance, whether oily or farinaceous. The savage regards every thing as nourishing that appeases hunger; when, therefore, you inquire of an Otomac on what he subsists during the two months when the river is the highest, he shews you his balls of clay. This he calls his principal food; for at this period he can seldom procure a lizard, a root of fern, or a dead fish swimming at the surface of the water.
“If the Indian eats earth through want during two months, and from three-quarters to five-quarters of a pound in twenty-four hours, he does not the less regale himself with it during the rest of the year. Every day, in the season of drought, when fishing is most abundant, he scrapes his balls of poya, and mingles a little clay with his other aliment. What is most surprising, is, that the Otomacs do not become lean by swallowing such quantities of earth; they are, on the contrary, extremely robust, and far from having the belly tense and puffed up. The missionary, Fray Ramon Bueno, asserts, that he never remarked any alteration in the health of the natives at the period of the great risings of the Oroonoko.
“The following are the facts, in all their simplicity, which we were able to verify. The Otomacs, during some months, eat daily three-quarters of a pound of clay slightly hardened by fire, without their health being sensibly affected by it. They moisten the earth afresh when they are going to swallow it. It has not been possible to verify hitherto with precision how much nutritious vegetable or animal matter the Indians take in a week at the same time; but it is certain that they attribute the sensation of satiety which they feel to the clay, and not to the wretched aliment which they take with it occasionally.
“I observed every where within the torrid zone, in a great number of individuals, children, women, and sometimes even full-grown men, an inordinate and almost irresistible desire of swallowing earth; not an alkaline or calcareous earth, to neutralize, as it is vulgarly said, acid juices, but a fat clay, unctuous, and exhaling a strong smell. It is often found necessary to tie the children’s hands, or to confine them, to prevent their eating earth, when the rain ceases to fall. At the village of Banco, on the bank of the river Magdalena, I saw the Indian women who make pottery, continually swallowing great pieces of clay.”
The celebratedDr. Graham.—About the year 1782, there appeared in London one of the most extraordinary empirics of modern times. His name was Graham. He wasa graduate of Edinburgh, wrote in a bombastic style, and possessed a great fluency of elocution. He opened in Pall-Mall, a mansion, which he called the “Temple of Health.” The front was ornamented with an enormous gilt sun, a statue of Hygenia, and other attractive emblems; the suit of rooms, in the interior, was superbly furnished; and the walls were decorated with mirrors, so as to confer on the place an effect like that from an enchanted palace. Here he delivered lectures on health, &c. at the extravagant price of two guineas per lecture; and the price, together with the novelty of his subjects, drew considerable audiences of the wealthy and dissipated. He entertained a female, of beautiful figure, whom he called the Goddess of Health, and it was her business to deliver a concluding discourse after the Doctor himself had finished his lecture. As a further means of attraction, he hired two men of extraordinary stature, provided with enormous cocked hats, and with showy and bulky liveries, whose business it was to distribute bills from house to house through the town. Graham became, therefore, an object of universal curiosity. But, as his two-guinea auditors were soon exhausted, he dropped his lectures successively to one guinea, half-a-guinea, five shillings, and (as he said, “for the benefit of all,”) to half-a-crown; and, when he could no longer draw this price, he exhibited the temple itself for one shilling, to daily crowds, for several months.
Among his furniture was a Celestial Bed, as he called it, standing on glass legs, provided with the richest hangings, and possessing properties peculiar to itself. For sleeping in this bed, he demanded one hundred pounds per night; and such is the folly of wealth, that heirless persons, of high rank, were named, who acceded to his terms. He also pretended to have discovered the “Elixir of Life,” by taking which, a person might live as long as he pleased, and he modestly demanded one thousand pounds for a supply of it; and more than one noble person was reported to have paid this enormous price to be cured of folly.
Having worn out his character in these various projects, he then recommended Earth-bathing, and undertook to sanction it by his own practice. During one hour every day, he, therefore, admitted spectators, at first at a guinea, and then descended, as in a former instance, to a shilling, to view him and the goddess of health immersed naked in the ground to their chins; the Doctor having his hair full-dressed and powdered, and the lady’s head being dressed also in the best fashion of the times. When no more money was to be drained from the population of London, the Doctor visited the great provincial towns, and lectured and exhibited in the same manner whenever he could obtain permission of themagistrates. In the end, the goddess of health nearly fell a victim to the practice; and the Doctor retired from public notice, and died in poor circumstances a few years afterwards, in spite of his “Elixir of Life,” at the early age of fifty-two. His brother married the celebrated Mrs. Macauley Graham, and his sister was married to Dr. Arnold, of Leicester, the respectable author of a very able treatise on insanity.
It is generally understood, that the lady who performed the singular part of the goddess of health, was Emma, afterwards wife of Sir W. H. and a personal favourite of a late celebrated naval character.
The Admirable Crichton.—Mr. James Crichton, according to the generality of his biographers, was born in the year 1551; but Lord Buchan fixes the time of his nativity in the month of August, 1560. It is admitted by all, that this celebrated man was a native of Scotland; but although Perth has in general been considered as his birth-place, even this circumstance has been perplexed with conflicting opinions. Of his ancestors, the accounts are equally diversified. Some assert that his father, Robert Crichton, commanded the army of Queen Mary at the battle of Langside: others state, with equal confidence, that he was Lord Advocate of Scotland from 1560 to 1573. His mother’s name was Elizabeth Stewart, the only daughter of Sir James Stewart, of Beath, a descendant of Robert, duke of Albany, the third son of king Robert the Second. Relying on his pedigree, he was accustomed to boast, when he displayed his astonishing acquirements in foreign countries, of his lineal descent from the Scottish kings.
At what time Mr. James Crichton began his studies, we are not informed; neither have we any satisfactory accounts when those diversified powers of his mind, on which all Europe gazed with admiration, first appeared to excite attention. The primary rudiments of his grammatical education were received at Perth; after which he studied philosophy in the University of St. Andrew. In that University, his tutor was the celebrated John Rutherford, a professor, famous for his learning, and distinguished by four books, which he had written on Aristotle’s Logic, and a commentary on his Poetics. But it is not to this professor alone, that the honour of forming this extraordinary character is to be ascribed. Manutius, who calls Crichton first cousin to the king, says, that he was educated with James I. under Buchanan, Hepburn, and Robertson, as well as under Rutherford. We cannot doubt, from the favourable circumstances under which Crichton entered life, that the best masters were assigned him that could be procured in every department of learning.
Under their tuition, and through the native vigour of his understanding, he had acquired a knowledge of ten different languages, and had run through the whole circle of the sciences, by the time he had attained the twentieth year of his age. Arduous, however, as these varied pursuits may seem to common minds, they occupied a part only of Crichton’s attention. A portion of his time was devoted to music, in the knowledge of which he made an astonishing proficiency. He learnt to play on various instruments; and improved himself, to the highest degree, in dancing, fencing, singing, and horsemanship.
Having made himself master of these various acquirements, he left his native land, and, proceeding to Paris, introduced himself to the literati of that city in the following manner. On his arrival, he caused six placards to be fixed on the gates of the schools, halls, and colleges, belonging to the University, and on all the pillars and posts of the houses inhabited by men most renowned for literature and science, inviting all who thought themselves well versed in any art, to meet and dispute with him in the college of Navarre, on that day six weeks, by nine in the morning. In this challenge, which was according to the practice of the age, he declared himself ready to answer any question which should be proposed to him, on any art or science, in any of the twelve following languages, viz. Hebrew, Syriac, Arabic, Greek, Latin, Spanish, French, Italian, English, Dutch, Flemish, and Sclavonian; and this either in prose or verse, at the choice of his antagonist.
Bold as this challenge may appear, instead of devoting himself to the minute examination of the various articles contained in its comprehensive embrace, upon the issues of which he had risked his reputation, his time was chiefly spent in hunting, hawking, tilting, vaulting, riding, tossing the pike, handling the musket, and such military feats and athletic exercises; and, when tired with these, the interim was filled up in domestic engagements, such as balls, concerts of music, vocal and instrumental, cards, dice, and tennis, together with such diversions as frequently occupy the mind of youth. A mode of conduct, apparently so inconsistent with the character he had assumed in his placards, the students of the University were at a loss how to interpret. And so provoked were they at the insolence of this daring foreigner, that, beneath the placard which was fixed on the gate at Navarre, they caused the following words to be written:—“If you would meet with this monster of perfection, to make search for him either in the tavern or the brothel is the readiest way to find him.”
But notwithstanding this dissipation, when the appointedday arrived, Crichton appeared in the college of Navarre, and engaged in a disputation, which lasted from nine in the morning until six in the evening. And so well did he acquit himself, that the President, after expatiating on the many rare and excellent endowments which God had bestowed upon him, rose from his chair, and, accompanied by four of the most eminent professors of the University, presented him with a diamond ring, and a purse full of gold, as a testimony of their high approbation. On what subjects these antagonists disputed, we have not been informed; neither is it known with certainty in what languages they addressed each other. We are only told, that the interview ended amidst the reiterated acclamations and huzzas of the spectators; and that this conquest obtained for him the appellation of “The Admirable Crichton.” It has been added, to the preceding account, that so little was he fatigued with the dispute, that he went to the Louvre, on the ensuing day, and engaging in a tilting match, an exercise then much in use, carried off the ring fifteen times successively, and broke as many lances, in the presence of some princes of the French court, and of a great many ladies, whose applauses were deemed a glorious reward, by all the heroes of chivalry.
Of Crichton’s exploits in Paris, the following account has been given by Mackenzie, and translated by Pennant, from the testimony of an author whom they consider as an eye-witness.
“There came to the college of Navarre, a young man of twenty years of age, who was perfectly well seen in all the sciences, as the most learned masters of the University acknowledged. In vocal and instrumental music, none could excel him; in painting and drawing in colours, none could equal him. In military feats he was most expert; and could play with the sword so dexterously with both his hands, that no man could fight him. When he saw his enemy or antagonist, he would throw himself upon him at one jump of twenty or twenty-four feet distance. He was master of arts, and disputed with us in the schools of the college, on medicine, the civil and canon law, and theology. And, although we were above fifty in number, besides about three thousand who were present, so pointedly and learnedly he answered to all the questions which were proposed to him, that none but they who were present can believe it. He spoke Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, and other languages, most politely. He was likewise a most excellent horseman; and, truly, if a man should live a hundred years, without eating, drinking, or sleeping, he could not attain to this man’s knowledge, which struck us with a panic fear, for he knew more than human nature can well bear. He overcame four of the doctors ofthe church; for in learning none could contest with him; and he was thought to be Antichrist.”
Having thus obtained in Paris the victory for which he contended, Crichton next repaired to Rome, where he affixed a placard upon all the eminent places of the city, in the following terms:—“Nos Jacobus Crictonus Scotus, cuicunque Rei propositæ ex improviso respondebimus.” In a city which abounded with scholastic learning and wit, this challenge, bearing all the marks of presumption, soon became the subject of a pasquinade. Rome, it has been said, was at this time much infested with mountebanks, jugglers, and other empirics; and those who felt indignant at the placard of Crichton, endeavoured to ridicule him, by classifying him with the quacks. Designating him by the neuter gender, their pasquinade was to the following effect:—“And he that will seeit, let him repair to the sign of the Falcon, anditshall be shewn.” Boccalini, who was then at Rome, says, that the appearance of this paper had such an effect upon him, that, with indignant feelings, he almost immediately left the city, where he had been so grossly insulted, in being compared to the impostors who could only amuse the vulgar. Mackenzie, however, asserts, that instead of being discouraged, he appeared at the time and place appointed; and, in the presence of the Pope, many Cardinals, Bishops, and Doctors of Divinity, and Professors of all the Sciences, displayed such wonderful proofs of his universal knowledge, that he excited a degree of astonishment equal to that which had marked his career in Paris.