No More Learning

Tho. mas' Tryon was one among many instances " tolprpye; how niiuch personal industry, aided Jby pru-
deiice, may effecf; H[e was born at Bibury, ? « Glou cestershire, of pafrents in a very huttible Situation ; his
father was a plasterer and tile-malser, and, at five years of age, rendered jjiiis spn useful towatds iearninfg a part to. slippprt hittiself; by spinning and carding of wool, and assisridg hirn in his own trade bf a plasterer, which o'dcupatjp^i he quitted: to assume the office of a shepherd. At thirteen years of age he first began to learn tp read, and at fourteen, by the strictest fru gality, he . found himself master bf several sheep, one
of which he gave to be taught the art of wriring ; and, . shortly afterwards, spld his whole stock, of sheep for three pounds, and with that sum in his pocket
made the best of his way to London, in hopes of im proving his litrie fortune : he was not long in finding a situation, and became apprentice to a hat-maker, at Bridewell Dock: he paid the greatest attention in learning his business, to which he devoted the whole
THOMAS
TUYO:^,
WILLIAM III. J REMARKABLE PERSONS. 55
of the day, and amii'sed himself the greatest part of
the night in reading ; he Was peculiarly attached to books of astrplogy and the occult Sciences, and Lilly, Partridge, BPoker, and others of the same classy were his infallible orades. In ittlitaribh of R'oger Crabb, the Uxbridge hermiti, he rejected the use of animal food, and affected to consider the lives of the dumb creation as sacred. Having heated his imagination to the highest pitch, he boasted that by his "tctope- rahce, cleanliness, and innPcency," he Was purified for celestiarenjoyntietit, and had felt himself inspired with divine illuminations. He possessed, however, suffi cient prudence to take care of that which the gene rality of the woi^d call "the main chance. " He entered ahd pursued business With such attention and success, that he accumulated a considerable fortune. His amusements and fancies were innocent, and hurt none ; and, like some other humourists, 'naarked the progress of the spirit in a journal, in which he care fully recorded the mighty-working wonders of his pro lific brain, and at forty-eight commenced author upon other subjects, not less extraordinary than the pre ceding.
Tryon. was of a sensible, enthusiastic mind, acring enrirely from his own resolves ; not submitting to the
[william hi.
or advice of any one ; had society or friend ship directed him, or assisted his experience and appli
56 MEMOIRS OF
guidance
cation, he might have produced
remark, and we might have admired, and
something worthy been improved, instead of wondering and smiling at his
mode of burying birds, or laughing at his
singular
abomination of woollen cloth, and his permission fpr our wearing linen.
He died August 21, 1703, at the age of 69, when perhaps he had thoughts of remaining a series of ages in this worid, through: his tenderness to beasts, birds, fishes, insects, and reptiles.
^itJru^'^^^ies^of^ainesWkllny. tJte^olQnoti/^
WILLIAM HI. ] REMARKABLE PERSONS. 57
'^aimi6i Wifjitntst*
In general,, the. biographers of rogues and vaga bonds give their heroes a tijle to wit and ingenuity very, far beyond the abilities of the : scoundrels they record ; to this^t in a; great Sieasure,: isjPwing the dif ficulty of finding out, and appreciating as they merit, genuine aneedotesipf, -the characters delineated. If any man becomes distinguished by crime, a hun dred stories are immediately put in circulation, attrir
butirigmatter^ to his inven tioBj to which he was not pnly incompetent, but /-absQluptely a stranger to the very circumstaiifiesirelated.
One of this description appears to have been James
Whitney, who, in addition to his dWB depredations,
has the credit of many he never probably committed* He was born at SteVenage in Hertfordshire,, and,
Mfhen fit. ifor servitude, was apprenticed t<a a butcher, with whom he continued until the exJ»irarion bf his lime; but no sooner did he become his own master, than besgavewayjjto a very irregular course ofhfe.
Going with- another butcher to Romford/ in Essex, VOL. I. I
58
MEMOIRS OF
[william hi.
in order to buy calves, they met with one they had a particular fancy to ; but the owner demanded what they thought an extravagant price for so that they
bargain however, as the man kept public-house, our companions agreed to go
and drink with him. They were much vexed at not being able to purchase the calf, when Whitney sud denly proposed the stealing of to which the other consenting, they sat drinking till night.
In the evening, fellow came into the town with great she-bear, which he carried about for show, and put up at the house where the two butchers were drinking in an inner room; the landlord was
some time before he could contrive where to lodge
the bear, but at last he resolved to move the calf into
another out-house, and tie madam Bruin up in his
place, which was done accordingly, without the
could not strike
knowledge
oi Whitney and his friend, who conrinued
drinking till they were told was time to go to bed.
Upon this warning they paid their reckoning, and
went out, staying in the fields near the town till
they imagined the time favored their design. The
night
was very dark, and they came to the stall
without making any noise or disturbance;
was to go and fetch out the calf, while the other
Whitney
in
it
;
a
a
a
a
it,
a
in
it,
WILLIAM III. ] REMARKABLE PERSONS. 59
watched without; when he entered he felt about, rill he got hold of the bear, which lying after the sluggish manner peculiar to those creatures, he began to tickle it to make it rise ; at last, being awaked, the beast being muzzled, rose up on her hind-legs, not know ing but it was her master going to show her.
Whitney srill continued feeling about, wondering at the length of the calf's hair, and that he should stand in such a posture, till the bear caught hold of him and hugged him fast between her fore-feet.
In this posture he remained, unable to move, and afraid to cry out, till tbe other butcher, wondering at his long stay, put his head in at the door, and said with a low voice, What the plague will you
Inight — I quoth be all the stealing a calf! A calf!
believe it is the devil that
to steal, for he hugs me as closely as he does the witch in the statue. Let it be the devil, says t'other, brihg him out, however, thIat we may see what he is
Whitney,
am going
like, which is something
know. Whitney was too much surprised to be pleased with the jesting of his companion, so that he replied, with soIme choler, ComeI, and fetch him
bed d
yourself , for may if half
like him. Hereupon t'other entered, and, after a little examina-
12
glad should be very to
60 MEMOIRS OF
[wlLLiAM HI.
tion, found how they were bit* By his assistance Whitney got loose, and they both swore they would never attempt to steal calves any more.
Whitney, after this, took the George Inn, at Ches- hunt, in Hertfordshire, where, for a time, he enter tained all sorts' of bad company ; but, this speculation not answering, in a little time he was compelled to shut up his house, and retreat to London, where he began to practice every sort of fraud and villany. —
It was some time before he took to the highway, following only the common tricks practised by the sharpers of the town, in which he was the more successful, as he always went dressed like a gentle
man.
One morning, as Whitney stood on Ludgate-hill,
at a mercer's door, waiting for a friend whom he expected to come by, two ladies of the town came along ; these • ladies took our gentleman for the master of the shop, and supposing him to biecome an easy
dupe, asked him if he had any fine silks bf the newest fashion ; Whitney teadWyr&pWedi that he had none by him at present he could recommend, but in a day or two's time he should have choicei several weavers being to bring him in pieces, made from the
last fashions brought up, and beggeld to know whire
WILLIAM III. ] REMARKABLE PERSONS. 61
he might have the honor to wait on them with sam* jp/«*,—-to which one of the ladies replied. That being n4wly come to town, they did not remember the, name of the street ; but it was not far off, and if he pleased to go with them, they would show him their habitar tion. Whitney politely consented, and, to make the affair appear with a better face, he :stepperi into the
shop, as if he went to give orders to the shopman, to
whom he only put a few trifling questions, and came out again unsuspected. Having accpmpanied the
ladies home, he very civilly offered to take his leave of them. — iVhy, Sir, says one of thetn, but you shall walk in and take a glass of wine wiihus,:sinee-^ou have been so good as to give yourself all this trouble. Whitney thanked them, and, with abundance of com»-
plaisance, accepted the invitation. . :. •,,
Hitherto -both ! parties v/eve dec&WQd;
Whitney took them for gendewomen of fortnne, and
really
came' home with them only to learn something that migbt^ forward him to make a prejl of them;, and they as Confideiltly believed him to be the mercer, who «wned the shop at which they picked him up. Th^ir designs were to get his money out of his i ppcket, andi "if they could, a suit or two of silk into i\\e bargain. What confirmed them in this opinion was,
iB2 MEMOIRS OF
[william hi.
the notice he took of several gentiemen as he passed along the street, by pulling off his hat to them, and
their returning the compliment. Whitney did it for this very purpose, and it is natural and common for men of fashion to return the salutation of those who notice them.
The ladies introduced the supposed mercer into an apartment splendidly furnished, where a table was instantly spread with a fine cold collation. This be ing over, the servant and one of the ladies withdrew, leaving the other alone with our adventurer, who soon discovered the drift of her ladyship ; but, willing to keep on the mask, after many amorous professions, promised her as much silk as would make her a com plete dress.
Whitney was so well pleased with his adventure and reception at this place, that he was resolved, if possible, to have a little more of the same enjoy ment, and to that end went to a mercer, and told him, that such a lady had sent him to desire that he
¦would send one of his men with two or three pieces of the richest silk he had, for her to choose a gown and petticoat. The person knowing the person of
quality he named, she having been his customer
before, and witlicut
mistrusting any thing, sent a
WILLIAM ill. ] REMARKABLE PERSONS.
63
youth, who was but newly come apprentice, telhng him the prices, in Whitney's hearing. Our adven
turer led the lad through as many bye-streets as he could, in order to carry him out of his knowledge, till
a house in Suffolk-street, which had a
into Hedge-lane, he desired the young man to stay at the door, while he carried in the silks to shew them to the lady, who lodged there ; the youth very readily agreed, and Whitney went into the house, and asked the people for somebody whom they did not know ; and, upon their telling him no such person lived in that neighbourhood, he desired leave to go through, which was granted, and he got clear off with his prize, which he immediately, carried to
his two ladies, and divided between them. After which he revelled with them in all manner of excess for several days, and then withdrew himself.
He was resolved, however, that nobody but him self should enjoy the fruit of his industry, and since he could not have the profit of his cheat, he thought proper to restore the mercer his goods again. To this end he writes a letter where the women lived, and the shop-keeper, getting a warrant and constable, went and found the silks in their possession; all the excuse they could make, as receiving them from . the
observing thoroughfare
64
MEMOIRS OF [william hi.
right bwner, availed nothing ; they were hurried before a magistrate, who comnaitted them to TothilUJields Bridewell, where their backs were covered with stripes
of the cat-and-nine-tails, instead of the eleemosynary silks, which they made so sure of.
Whitney had now become a confirmed highway man, and meeting a gentleman on Bagshot-heath, he
him' I commanded to stand and deliver, to which the
other replied, Sir, 'tis well you spoke first ; for
just going to say the same thing to yoii. — Why, are
you gentleman I quoth Whitney. —
a thief then ? Yes,
gentleman! told i some Pther trav^ellers by what stra tagem he had escaped being, robbed on the road. Whitney had so altered his habit and speechj that the gentleman did not know him again ; so that he heard ail the story without being taken any notice of. Among other things, he heard him tell one of the company softly, that he had saved an himdred pounds
by his contrivance. The person to whom he had
whispered
this, was going the saitne vifayiithe next
have had bad success to very
said the stranger, but
day. Whitney upon this wished him better liick, and took bis- lekve,: really supposing him to be what': he pretended. — At night it was the fortune of Whitney and this person to put up at the same inn, whew our
was
WILLIAM HI. ] REMARKABLE PERSONS. 65
morning, and said, he had also, a considerable sum about him, and, if he pleased, should be glad to travel with him for security.
When morning came, the travellers set out, and Whitney about a quarter of an hour after them ; all the discourse of the gentlemen was about cheating the highwaymen, if they should meet any. When Whitney, at a convenient place, had got before them, and bid them stand, the gentleman whom he met
before not knowing him, he having disguised him self after another manner, briskly cried out. We were going to say the same to you. Sir. — Were you so?
quoth Whitney, and are you of my profession then ? — Fes, said they both. If you are, replied Whitney, I. suppose you remember the old proverb, two of a trade can never agree, so that you must not expect any favor, on that score. But to be plain, gentlemen,
the trick will do no longer; I
you very,
and must have your hundred pounds. Sir; and your considerable sumI, SzV, turning to the other, let it be.
well,
shall make bold to send a brace bullets through each ofyour heads. You, Mr. High-
waymaui should have kept your secret a little longer, and not have boasted so soon of having outwitted a
what it will, or
of
VOL. I.
K
know
66 MEMOIRS OF [william hi.
thief; there is now nothing for you to do, but deliver or die!
These terrible words put them both into a sad consternation: they were loth to lose their money, but more loth to lose their lives ; so, of two evils they chose the least, the tell-tale coxcomb disbursing his hundred pounds, and the other a somewhat larger sum, prpfessing that they would be careful for the future not to count without their host.
Another time, Whitney met with one Mr. Hull^an old usurer, in the Strand, as he was riding across Hounslow-heath. He could hardly have chosen a wretch more in love with money,; and, consequently, who would have been more unwilling to have parted with it. When the dreadful words were spoken, he trembled like a paralyric, and fell to expostulating the case in the most moving expressiotis' he was master of, professing tiiat he was a very poor man, had a large
family of children, and should be utterly ruined if he was so hard-hearted as to take his money from him. He added, moreover, the illegality of such an action, and how very dangerous it was to engage in such
evil courses. Whitney, who knew him, cried out in a great passion : Sirrah, do you pretend to preach
WILLIAM III. ] REMARKABLE PERSONS. 67
morality to an honester man than yourself; you make
grind I a prey of all mankind, and to death with
eight and ten per cent. This once, however. Sir, shall oblige you to lend me what you have without
bondi consequently m,ore viords.
without interest; so make no
Old Hull, hereupon, pulled out about eighteen guineas, which he gave with a great deal of grumbling; telling him withal, that he should see him one time or another ride up Hotborn-hill backwards. Whitney was going about his business till he heard these words, when he returned, and pulled the old gentle man off his horse, putting him on again with his face towards the horse's tail, and tying his legs; Now, says he, you old rogue, let me see what a figure a man makes when he rides backwards, and let nie have the pleasure, at least, of beholding you first in that posture. So giving the horse three or four good cuts with his whip, he set him a running so fast, that he never stopt till he came to Hounslow town, where the people loosed our gentleman, after they had made themselves a little merry with the sight.
always affected to appear generous and K2
Whitney
68 MEMOIRS OF [william hi.
noble ; meeting one day with a gendeman on New market-heath, whose name was Long, and having robbed him of a hundred pounds, in silver, which
was in his portmanteau, tied up in a great bag, the gentleman told him that he had a great way tb go, and, as he was unknown upon the road, should meet with many difficulties, if he did not restore as much as would bear his expences. Whitney opened the mouth of the bag, and holding it to Mr. Long, Here, says he, take what you have occasion for. Mr. Long put in his hand, and took out as much as he could hold : to which Whitney Imade no opposition', but only
thought you
more conscience. Sir.
Coming once to Doncaster,- he put up at the Red
Lion Inn, and made a great figure, having a pretty
said with a smile,
would have had
round sum in his possession.
here, he was informed that the landlord of the house was reputed rich, but withal so covetous, that he Would do nothing to help a poor relation or neigh bour in distress. On this Whitney set his wits to
Work, and gives out that he had a good estate, and travelled about the country merely for his pleasure^ and so artfully insinuated himself into the • good
While he resided
WILLIAM HI. ] REMARKABLE PERSONS. 69
opinion of his host, that he ran most plentifully into his debt, both for his own accommodation, and the keep of his horse.
It happened that while he remained here, there was an annual fair held ; upon the fair-day, in the morning, a small box, carefully sealed, and very weighty, came directed to him. He opened took out letter, which he read, and locked up, and gave
to his landlady, desiring her to keep in her cus tody for the present, because would be safer than in his own hands, and ordered the landlord, at the
same rime, to write out his bill, that he might pay him the next morning as soon as he had done this, he went out, as though to see the fair. In the afternoon he comes home again, great hurry, and- desired his horse might be dressed and saddled, he
mind to shew him in the fair,; and, if he could, to exchange him for one he had seen,- and which, he thought was the finest that ever he fixed his eyes on. — will have him, says he, possible, whether the owner will buy mine or no, and though he cost me forty guineas; he then asked for his land lady to help him to his box, but she was gone to the fair whereupon he fell swearing like madman, that he supposed she had locked up what he gave
having
;
it
a
a
a
if
it it
a I
in a
:
it
it,
fO MEMOIRS OF [william hi.
her, and taken the keys with her: Ifshe has<, quoth
he, 1 had rather have given ten guineas, for I
have no money at all, but what is in your possession. En
quiry was made, and it was found to ;be as he said, which put him into a srill greater passion, though it was what he wished for, and even expected, the whole having been invented for the sake of this
single scene.
The landlord quickly had norice of our gentle
man's anger, and the occasion of it; upon which he comes to him, and begs of him to be easy, offering to send him the sum he wanted, till his wife came home* Whitney seemed to resent it highly, that he must be obliged to borrow money when he had so much of his own; however, as there was no other way, he condescended, with abundance of reluctance^ to accept the proposal ; adding, that ' he desired ah account of all. he was indebted as soon as possible,
as it was not his custom to run hand over head. Having received forty guineas, the sum he pre
tended to want, he mounts his horse, and rides towards the fair, but instead of dealing there for another hcffse, he spurred his own through the crowd, asfestashe could conveniently, and made the best
of his way towards London. At night the people
WILLIAM III. ] REMARKABLE PERSONS. 71
of the inn. sat up very late for his coming home, nor did they suspect any thing the first, or even the stecond night, but at the end of two or three days the landlord was a little uneasy ; and, after he had waited a week to no purpose, jt came into bis head tp break open the box, in order to examine it. With this ^view he goes tp the magistrate of the place, prpcures his warrant, and, in presence of a constsible
and other witnesses, bfbke open the casket, and was ready to hang himself when he found the contents to be npthing but sand and stpnes.
This was, however, the last of Whitney's adven tures, fpr not long after his arrival in town he was 3pprehended in White Friars, upon the information of Mother Cozens, who kept a bawdy-house in MUr
ford-lane, over-against St. Clement's Chv-reh. The magistrate, who took the information, committed him to Newgate, where he remained till the next sessions at the Old Bailey. Being brought to trial, and found guilty, the Recorder passed sentence of death on him, and exhorted him to a sincere repentance, as it was impossible for him to hope for any reprieve, after such a course of villanies : and, on Wednesday, the 19th of December, 1694, he was carried to the place of execution, which was at Porter s Block, near
72 MEMOIRS OF [william lir.
Smithfield, Where he addressed the people in the fol lowing words :—
"
human and divine.
present, but has often heard my name, before my
/
very great
against
offender, both
God, and my CountrIy, by transgressing all laws,
¦
have been a
believe there is not one here
confinement, and have seen a large catalogue ofm,y crimes, Iwhich have been made public since; —why
is justI
, and
which rehension
then pretend to a
vindicate life stained with
should
so many enormIous deeds ? —The sentence passed on me
can see footsteps
the of a providence,
peace with heaven, the only thing that is now ofany concern to me. Join in your prayers with me, my
dear countrymen, that God would not forsake me in my last moments.
pI
have these things of
had before
and conviction.
at, in my ap sense which
Ilaughed
hope the
has enabled me to make my
profanely
Having spoke thus, and afterwards spent
private
being about thirty-four years of age.
a few turned off
moments in
devorion, he was
. SOP,
TIlc DrunKeTi rlr^'xn. iue•o Coliler of Eton.
^¥1
ANNE. ]
REMARKABLE PERSONS. 73
ire^ojp ofiston«
Cobblers, in general, have the character of being great tipplers, and JEsop of EtPn was not of a dis
position
there is every reason to suppose him to have been deformed, similar to his fabled '^namesake of anti- qiiity. In the' feign of Queen Anne, when the Whig and Tory politicians so hberally bespattered one another, >Esop was determined not to remain
neuter, and, inspired by the classic- air bf Eton, he started in the treble pursuits of pblitics, poetry, and
cobbhng, and employed his pen and awl alternately^ to patch the state and old shoes and boots. The latter prCfeSsion, however, succeeded with him best; as his cobbling jobs enabled hini to keep St, Cris- pinV- weekly holiday regularly throughout the year,
¦ and the copious draughts of Sir John Barleycorn's delightful beverage enabled him' to exercise his muse
VOL. I. L
to falsify the common asserrion, that a cobbler, when drunk, is "as great as a lord. " The real name of this genius has not been handed down to us; but, from the appellation given him of iEsop,
[anne. though it does not
productions
were ever deemed worthy to be preserved in print. Mr. Granger observes of his rhymes, that he knew no better way to characterize them, than " by the three blue beans in a blue bladder. " The memory of Msop of Eton, and his works, have long ceased
to interest any one.
At the period in which JEsop of Eton flourished,
there were several other pretenders to the appellation of the Phrygian sage, and the name became so de graded as to be marked only with contempt. Tom Brown informs us, in one of his witty letters, that, " because ^Esop from Tunbridge had the good fortune
to please, an hundred other iEsops, from Epsom, Islington, and other parts of the kingdom, were im
mediately trumped up, till the very name ofJEsop at last grew scandalous. "
Tom Brown's Works, Vol. I, p. 24 1 .
74
MEMOIRS OF
in many a drunken rhyme,
appear that either his poetic or prosaic
BICK, ' Tlip Mimic Trumpeter. I
rA:^IE S
ANjJE. ] REMARKABLE PERSONS. 75
^ame$ ISick,
THE MIMIC TRUMPETER.
James Bick picked up a'tolerable living by fre quenting public-houses, ahd amusing the company in various tricks of Ventriloquism. He is said to have been related to John Shore Bick, Esq. serjeant*- trumpeter, but there- is no reason to suppose there was any other affinity in thefee people, than in the name. "^^James Bick particularly excelled in imi tating the trumpet, and he has beeur known toaccom-
pany-a band, -wliere that instrument was wanting, in
a manner so perfectly correct, that the finest ear COU Id "i not fed the: deficiency of the real from the counterfeit dieception. ¦ He lived and :flourished about the tatter end of ^ Queen Anne's ifeign, and w-as sucdeeded in his rflitnic art by one Clinch, of Barnet, who regulariy performed at Hicks's-hall Coffee-house, St. John's-street, Clerkenwell, of au
evening, and collected very considerable sums from his admiring auditors.
Bick's reputation, as a sham-trumpeter, was too L2
76 MEMOIRS OF [anne.
well established for Clinch to attack that instrument, and he wisely judged it best to stick to the horn, which, by incessant practice, he brought himself to excel in ; he greatly distinguished himself in mimic- ing the huntsman, pack of hounds, sham doctor, old woman, drunken man ; and the bells, the flute, double courtel, and the organ, with three voices. AH instruments were imitated by his natural voice, and he sung an Essex song, after a manner which none but himself could perform, as we are informed by the " Daily Post" of April 24, 1722. The time of Bick's death is not known, but Clinch died in
about the
year 1805, exhibited his tricks of Ventriloquism
almost every public-house throughout
polis.
December, 1734, when he had attained the age of seventy years. We have of late years witnessed the surprising powers of Ventriloquism. Askins, a man with a wooden-leg, performed
Sadler's Wells, at a
and George Romondo, a narive of Lisbon,
for a season or two at considerable weekly salary;
the metro Mathews, the Comedian, has lately set up in
this way, and his single exertions filled the theatre of the English Opera-house for a whole season, while the theatres of Drury-Lane and Covent-garden were
playing to empty benches.
in
^'M. a^x^f^cA>i
THOMAS BlilTTOK.
ANNE. ]
REMARKABLE PERSONS.
Zt^omn^ ii^ritton.
77
Thomas Britton was born about the middle of
the seventeenth century, at, or near Higham-Ferrers, r¦I
in Northamptonshire. He . served an apprenticeship to a small-coal man, in London, and set up in the same trade in Clerkenwell. He made it his business to go about the streets, with his sack on his back, crying '' Small-coal. " His daily rounds through the town made him acquainted with a variety of book stalls, from which he collected a tolerable library of books, which he bccasionally sold at a good profit to
the nobility and gentry.
About the commencement of the last century, a passion prevailed among several persons of distinction, for collecring old books and MSS. , and it was their Saturday's amusement, during winter, to. ramble through various quarters of the town in pursuit of these literary treasures. The Earls of Oxford, Pembroke, Sunderland, and Win- chelsea, and the Duke of Devonshire were of this party; and Mr. Bagford, and other collectors, assisted them in their researches. Britton appears to have
'
. , -fl
I".
[anne. been employed by them ; and, as he was a very
fS MEMOIRS OF
modest, decent, and unassuming
sharer in their conversation when they met, after their morning's walk, at a bookseller's shop in Ave-
Britton used to pitch his coal-sack on a bulk at the door, and, drest in his blue-frock, step in, and spend an hour with the company. But
it was not only by a few bookish lords that his ac quaintance was cultivated ; his humble roof was fre quented by assemblies of the fair and the gay, and this small-coal man has the singular honour of having set the first example, in this country, of that elegant and rational amusement, a music;u concert. His attachment to music caused him to be known to many amateurs and performers, who formed themselves into a club at his house, where capital pieces were played by some of the first professional persons. Dr. Pepusch, and even Handel, here displayed their powers on the harpsichord, and Dubourg played his first solo on the violin. Britten's house was an old mean buildi- ing, of which the ground-floor was a repository for coals ; over this was the concert-room, long, low, and narrow, and ascended to by a pair of stairs from the outside, scarcely to be mounted without crawling ; yet some of the finest ladies of the land were seen
maria-lane.
man, he was a
ANNE. ]
REMARKABLE PERSONS. 79
to trip up them without airs or hesitation. This
commenced iu 1678, and it is affirmed that it was at first absolutely gratuitous, but, in process of time, probably after Britton had taken a
more convenient room in the next house, a sub scription was paid of ten shillings a-year each ; for
which, however, he provided musical instruments. He had also a very good collection of ancient and modern music, bv the best authors.
The singularity of Britten's mode of life, and the contrast between his station and his connections, caused a variety of opinions to prevail concerning him and his meetings. He was taken for an atheist, a Jesuit, a sectary, and a conjuror i and his concerts were thought to be meetings for seditious or magical
purposes. He was, however, a plain honest man,
of an open, ingenuous countenance, and cheerful
temper, and a sincere votary of the arts and studies
in which he engaged. His taste for chemistry he
imbibed from his neighbour, Dr. Garencieres; and
his ingenuity enabled him to contrive a moving labo
ratory, built by himself, at a small expence, with which he performed many curious experiments; of
the nature of these we are not informed, but as many
music-meeting
80
MEMOIRS OF [anne.
of the books he had picked up related to the Rosycru- cian philosophy, it is not improbable that he might waste some of his small-coal in search after the grand secret.
He appears rather to have been a general virtuoso than a real proficient in any one branch, yet he played upon the viol de gamba at his own concerts; and the noted antiquary, Thomas Hearne, has at tested his real skill in rare books and old manuscripts.
He sold a large collection of these some years before his death, the printed catalogue of which Hearne says he has often looked over with wonder; and another collection of books and music, which was the chief property he left behind him, was sold by his
widow.
The circumstances of his death were as extraordi
nary as those of his life, if the story is to be credited. A Ventriloquist was introduced into his company by an acquaintance, who was fond of mischievous jests ; this man, in a voice
apparently coming from a distance, announced to poor Britton his approach
ing end, and bid him prepare for
the Lord's Prayer, on his knees. mystical and magical books had
by repeating Britton, whose
made
probably
it,
anne. ]
REMARKABLE PERSONS. SI
him credulous, obeyed the injunction, went home,
took to his bed, and actually died in a few days.
This was in September, 1714. He was buried, with
a very respectful attendance, in Clerkenwell church yard.
VOL. I. M
82 MEMOIRS OF
Banul ^mQt^&*
[anne.
Daniel Burgess, a pulpit buffoon, and inaitator of Hugh Peters, amused his congregations more by the levity of his manners, and coarseness of his jfikes, than benefited them either by precept or example.
He was the son of a. clergyman, at Gollingburn-Ducis, Wilts, where he was . born, in 16*5. ": Mr. BjLjrgess went to Iri^land,. under th^eprptection of Lord Qjrery, the Lprd-president of Mtijister, where he, taught a schpol; at Cliarieyil ; but, r. etprning;to Ehglandiat the Restoration, he became a Nojirqonfprmist, thp^gll npt a Puritan; fPr he was, as facetious,, as his-' merry monarch, and his jokes were suited to the nature of his company, and the age he lived in, , The t#es and jests of Hugh Peters have been collected,,; ang 'pub lished in a small volume, but the quips, cmi^, jests,
and puns of Daniel Burgess would form a small
Encyclopaedia
'robe of righteousness,'. Ijjf,'^^aid he, any, of you would have a suit for a twelvemonth, let him repair to Monmouth-street ; if for his life-rime, let
of wit and mirth.
PreE|c|i>n. g of Job's
him
I i). AW. TK \i IIITM OE S S
. . .
/J7 VS
REMARKABLE PERSONS. 83 apply to the Court of Chancery ; and if for all eter
ANNE. J
nity, let him put on righteousness. "
Observing but a small congregation one day at his sermon, he sud
denly called out, " Fire ! Fire ! Fire ! " The affrighted
audience exclaimed, "Where? Where? Where? " —
" In hell, to burn such wretches as regard not the glad tidings of the gospel. "
Some modern preachers have not disdained to copy the style and manner of Daniel's address from the pulpit. The Rev. Mr. Whitfield, previous to one of his sermons, loudly vociferated, "I espy a whore! I'll throw my bible at her ? " at which every female in the chapel stooping their heads, to avoid the menaced threat, fearing in his wrath he might mistake the right aim ; '* Aye," exclaimed he, I see a guilty con science needs no accuser. "
The Rev. Rowland Hill, likewise, would some times condescend to a little facetiousness ; — while building his chapel in the Blackfriar's-road, he ob served considerable progress making towards erecting the first Surry Theatre, which he noticed in an address to his followers in the. following words :—" You have a race to run now, between G— — and the devil ; the children of the last are making all possible haste in building him a temple, where he may receive the
m2
84 MEMOIRS OF
[anne.
donation and devotions of the children of vanity ! now
exert yourselves in the cause of righteousness, and
never let it be said but what God can outrun the devil. "
Burgess assigned a curious motive for the Hebrews being called Israelites, " the reason because God ever hated Jacobites and, therefore, Jacob's sons were not so called, but Israelites. " — Burgess, in his
doctrine as well as politics, was in direct opposition to the popular fire-brand, Dr. Sacheverel this was so well known, that when the high and low church party
were at the summit of their intemperate zeal, Sach- everel's mob, infuriated by the hangman's burning the sermons of their idol, in revenge set fire to the meet- ing-hpuses
of their opponents, the Whigs, in which conflagration, that of Daniel Burgess, as one of the most conspicuous, became first illuminated, at the expence of the pulpit and pews. His vein of mirth did not forsake him to the last, nor was his waggery
and jokes confined to the meeting-house, but enlivened the company in which he joined, both at home and abroad.
Burgess once dining with gentleman of his con gregation, large Cheshire-cheese, uncut, was brought to table, " Where shall cut ? " asked Daniel
;
it
a
I
a
;
;
is,
anne. ]
REMARKABLE PERSONS. 85
" Any where you please, Mr. Burgess," answered the gentleman. Upon which Daniel handed it to the ser vant, desiring him to carry it to his house, and he would cut it at home.
He published many works, a catalogue of which is
added to his funeral sermon, from his " Golden Snuf fers," to his " Larin Defence of Non-conformity. "
There were several Puritan preachers of the name of Burgess, who are mentioned by Dr. Calamy.
Daniel Burgess died towards the end of January, and was buried the 31st of that month, 1723.
86 MEMOIRS OF
S^oj^n Wtmi$*
[anne.
John ©ENNis, well-known under the Appellation of Denniis ih6 Critic, was the son of a s&dler, and citizen of London, Where he' was born in 1657. He received, a literary education, first at Hari-ow-school, and afterwards at 'Caius College, Cambridge. He remained seven years at the University, and quitting
with the degree of M. A. , made the tour of France
and, Italy,' which he was enabled to accomplish by the
liberahty of his father and rich uncle, the latter of
whpm leaving him small 'fortune,';;shortly after his retiirnl, enabled; him to form an 'acquaintance with
the most distinguished poets and men of letters of the time, by. whom he was regarded as a person of know ledge and talents. He followed nbfparticular pro
fession, but devoted himself to literary life. He endeavoured to make, himself known as pbet, critic, and dramatic writer, and exerted himself with con siderable assiduity, though with but little success his poetry was turgid, heavy, and obscure.
;
a. a
it
a
a
it,
ANNE. J REMARKABLE PERSONS. 87
For the stage, he wrote both comedy and tragedy, and appears to have had some knowledge of the me chanism of the drama ; but his performances were, in general, valued by the public at a much lower rate than he himself put upon them. His tragedy, entitled '* Liberty Asserted," which became popular, on ac count of the virulent abuse of the French nation, (with which it abounded,) was of such political con sequence in his own eyes, that he imagined Lewis XIV. would make a point, at the peace, of having him; delivered up to his resentment. Under this appre
hension, he actually applied to the Duke of Marl borough for his good offices, when the treaty of Utrecht was in agitation. The Duke gravely remark
ed, "that he himself had made no application for security in the articles of peace, and yet he could net but think he had done the French king almost as much harm as Mr. Dennis had done. " Another time, being upon a visit to a friend, who lived on the coast of Sussex, he saw a ship making towards land, when, taking it into his head that this was a French vessel come to seize him, he exclaimed, that he was betrayed, and made the best of his way to London, without leave of his host.
taking" Appius Virginia" performed,. When his and was
88 MEMOIRS OF [anne.
Dennis, to augment the terror ofthe scene, invented a new species of thunder, more sonorous and alarming than that before in use, and which, indeed, was so well approved as to be employed to the present day.
His tragedy soon disappeared from the stage; but Dennis soon after heard his own thunder at the per formance of Macbeth. " S'death," cried he, "how these rascals use me ! they will not let my play run, yet they steal my thunder. "
His last tragedy, enritied " Coriolanus, or the Fatal
given out for the next night. Dennis was equally surprised and enraged. He published his tragedy,
with a dedicarion to the Duke of Newcastle, in which he states his case, charging the "three insolent actors," who were managers, * with a conspiracy against him, and against genius in general^ and assum ing the most ludicrous self-consequence.
Dennis was a sour, morose, and ill-natured man ; his irritable temper often involved him in personal
* Booth, Wilks, and Cibber.
Resentment,"
altered from Shakespeare, caused him entirely to break with the managers. After three representations to poor houses, another play was
ANNE. J REMARKABLE PERSONS. 89
disputes with men greatly his superiors, among whom were Addison and Pope; and, though his attacks
upon
reason and plain sense, yet they shewed great insen-
them were not witiiout some foundation of
sibiHty to poetical beauty, and much coarseness of animosity.
His jealousy, of a successful rival provoked him, notwithstanding his Whiggism, to publish some very severe strictures on Addison's Cato, but they
did not deprive Cato of a single admirer, notwith
standing they might prove that it was not a perfect
piece. Still less could his homespun criticism injure such an exquisite fancy-piece as the Rape of
the Lock ; yet Pope, as irritable as himself, thought proper to give him a niche in the Dunciad ; and further persecuted him with a very laughable " Narrative of the Deplorable Phrensy of Mr. John Dennis. " It
is probable that the acrimony of the critic's temper was heightened by the narrowness of his circum stances. The private fortune he possessed seems
soon to have been spent.
Through the favor of the Duke of Marlborough,
he obtained the place of a land-waiter, at the Custom house, which his extravagance obliged him in a few years to seU, with the reservation of an annuity for
vol. I. N
90
MEMOIRS OF
[anne.
a certain term ; this he outiived, so that he was
unprovided for the necessities of old age. He was obliged to secure his person, by residence within the verge of the court, and his quiet was continually disturbed by the fear of bailiffs. * When he was far advanced in years, and afflicted with loss of sight, a play was acted at the Hay-market for his benefit, to which his old antagonist. Pope, wrote a
prologue. This act of generosity would have been
more to the poet's credit, had he not written his
prologue in a style of ironical ridicule upon the old
critic. Thomson, who took the most active part in
the charity, was complimented in Dennis's name,
with some elegant lines, said to be written by
totally
Savage.
kindness, dying in his seventy-seventh year, 1734.
The veteran did not long survive this
* Straying a little beyond the rules of the court once, on the evening of a Saturday, he saw a person, with an ill-favored coun tenance, near him ; with dismay and trembling he waited till the clock had struck twelve, when he exclaimed, " I value you not now, whether bailiff or not. " The gentleman, who had caused his alarm, understanding for what he had been mistaken,
was with diflSculty restrained, by the age of Dennis, from giving liim corporal chastisement.
fBorn 1606. )
ANNE. ]
'
REMARKABLE PERSONS. 91 . ,;:; u-'. -
Hetirs
confused jumble of dates which: ;Mr. . Neble has set down concerning this person,\ would lead one to imagine he never saw the inscription to the portrait; which is, "; Henry Evans, ! born at Haber- dam. County of Caernarvon, vEt. 104, 1710. " The reverend author; remarks, several persons of the above name have lived to great' ages:—Jonathan Evans> resident near Welch Pool, in the County of Mont- gpiriery, lived: to be: 117 years of age; and left a
spn aged ninety-one, and a daughter, eighty-seven.
JWe cannot much wonder at the hardy sons bf Wales ;' Hying more; than a century, upon their; mountains ;
but Mr; Henry Evans, transplanted from Cambria^
seven years old when Charles I. was beheaded by the regicides ; and this circumstance ascertains his birth to have been in 1642, and. his. death to have occurred in 1771.
N2
The
ISSjaniS*
Spital-fields, London j yet : reached the stiU greater age. of : 129, and. retained aU his faculties to the last. He was
certainly
. resided in
Spital-street,'i
92
MEMOIRS OF
[anne. But if Evans was one hundred and four years
of age in 1710, he must have been
years of age at the time of Charles's death ; and
little short of Henry Jenkins,
I am inclined to think, the resident in
Spitalfields, and the native of Caernarvon, were different persons. Parish certificates are some times made use of for deceptive purposes, as was the case in the year 1790; when Donald Mac Leod, a Scotch soldier, travelled from Edinburgh to London, on foot, for the purpose of applying to Chelsea Hospital for admission, or a pension for past services ; he vs^as accompanied by a female, of a middle age, who passed for his wife, and they sup ported themselves on the road, by a certificate be had obtained in Scotland, representing him then as in the one hundred and second year of his age ; in person he was athletic and healthy, and was, in truth, upwards
of seventy, but had taken his father's certificate, (who had been a serjeant in an Highland regiment) instead of his own. The circumstance of his ap parent great age and strength gained
if born, as the inscription
implies, in 1606, and deceasing in 1771j according to Mr. Noble's account, he must have lived to the great age of 165, an age
street,
forty-two
Spital-
many friends.
anne. ]
REMARKABLE PERSONS. 93
and two different portraits were engraved and pub lished for his benefit, together with his memoirs ;— but, upon a strict enquiry, the cheat was discovered, the consequent disappointment and vexation of which brought the old man to the grave, in the year 1792.
94 MEMOIRS OF [anne.
:ff'Utcfftt.
Andrew Fletcher, who was a thorough-paced republican, has been variously represented by dif ferent writers, but all agree in one particular, that
to the violence and turbulent disposition of his
manners. He was son of Sir Robert Fletcher, of
Saltoun, in Scotland, and born in 1653. His father,
who died while he was child, directed he should
be placed under the tuition of Dr. Gilbert Burnet,
then rector of Saltoun, frohi whom he imbibed his
free principles in government. He spent
^ntit^itt
years of his youth in foreign travel, and peared as public character in the station of
com missioner for East Lothian, in the Scotch parliament,
when the Duke of York was lord-commissioner. He distinguished himself in such manner,
by his opposition to the measures of the court, that he
thought
upon his non-appearance to summons from the lords of the council, he was outlawed, and his estate confiscated. In 1683 he came over to England, to
adviseable to withdraw to Holland
and,
some first ap
a ,
a
a
it
a
;
a
is,
>*^
"=-? r-=l^. m. cJjJmoA^
(Of Saltan. . )
¦jfi^'v^X
¦i . ¦;
ANNE. ]
REMARKABLE PERSONS. 95
consult with some of his republican friends, but pru- , dently returned to the Continent.
In 1685, he engaged in the enterprise of the Duke of Monmouth to dethrone James XL, but was greatly disgusted at the act of Monmouth's adherents pro
claiming him king ; an unfortunate circumstance occasioned his quitting that party almost as soon as he had joined them. Fletcher having taken the horse of a country gentleman, engaged in the same cause, on
some remonstrance by the owner, drew out a pistol, and shot the man dead. This action excited such resentment against him, among the friends and countrymen of the deceased, that it became neces sary for the duke to dismiss him from the armyj
and he made his escape from justice,
on board a vessel which conveyed him to Spain, and, fortunately for him, saved him from suffering the fate that attended the unfortunate Monmouth and his deluded followers.
He is said to have undergone many hazards in Spain ; but, at length, he made his way into Hungary, where he engaged in the war against the Turks. — But his restless disposition suffering him to rest no where long, brought him back to join in the confe rences which were held among the Scottish refugees
by getting
96 MEMOIRS OF [anne.
in Holland, for the purpose of effecting a revolution ;
and, when that event took place, he returned to
Scotland, and resumed the possession of his estate,
and held it by his own law, without asking leave of
king or parliament. Jealousy of kings, indeed,
seems to have been wrought into his very nature, and he thought it was scarcely possible to provide too
many securities against their love of absolute sway. In his own disposition he was arbitrary and tyran nical, and in one of his discourses on the affairs of Scotland, he proposes a provision for the poor,
domestic slavery.
Mackay, in his Memoirs, drew the
following character of him while living :—" He is a gentleman,
steady in his principles, of nice honor, with abun dance of learning ; brave as the sword he wears, and bold as a lion ; a sure friend, but an irreconcileable enemy; would lose his
life readily to serve his country, and would not do a base thing to save it. His thoughts are large as to religion, and could never
be brought within the bounds of any particular sect ; nor will he be under the distinction of Whig or Tory, saying, " these names are only used to cloak the knavery of both parties. " It however, evi dent that Fletcher was not so brave as
Mackay
by
is,
ANNE. ]
REMARKABLE PERSONS. 97
supposed ; ,nor was he accurate, when he said, that " he would lose his life readily to serve his cotintry, but would not do a base thing to save it. '' He exiled himself from Scotland, when he should have
stayed ; and fled to a ship, after he had committed a murder.
Ifhis most particular friend, however high in rank,
accepted
moment he was his enemy ; apologies only added to his violence and obloquy. He talked and wrote against all bodies of men. Had the law taken its proper course, he must have died as a malefactor, for his unprovoked enormity at Taunton. One of his servants wishing his dismissal, Ihe asked, " Why do
an office under government, from that
Ie? " "
you leave m — Because your
temper.