Under Tiberius

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Under Tiberius

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.
 Lord Kenyon's Parsimony.

Lord Kenyon studied economy even in the hatchment put up over his
house in Lincoln's Inn Fields after his death. The motto was certainly
found to be "Mors janua vita"—this being at first supposed to be the
mistake of the painter. But when it was mentioned to Lord
Ellenborough, "Mistake!" exclaimed his lordship, "it is no mistake.
The considerate testator left particular directions in his will that the
estate should not be burdened with the expense of a diphthong!"
Accordingly, he had the glory of dying very rich. After the loss of his
eldest son, he said with great emotion to Mr. Justice Allan Park, who
repeated the words soon after to the narrator:—"How delighted
George would be to take his poor brother from the earth, and
restore him to life, although he receives 250,000l. by his decease!"
Lord Kenyon occupied a large, gloomy house in Lincoln's Inn Fields:
there is this traditional description of the mansion in his time—"All
the year through it is Lent in the kitchen and Passion-week in the
parlour." Some one having mentioned that, although the fire was
very dull in the kitchen-grate, the spits were always bright,—"It is
quite irrelevant," said Jekyll, "to talk about the spits, for nothing
'turns' upon them." * * He was curiously economical about the
adornment of his head. It was observed for a number of years
before he died, that he had two hats and two wigs—of the hats and
the wigs one was dreadfully old and shabby, the other comparatively
spruce. He always carried into court with him the very old hat and
the comparatively spruce wig, or the very old wig and the
comparatively spruce hat. On the days of the very old hat and the
comparatively spruce wig, he shoved his hat under the bench and
displayed his wig; but on the days of the very old wig and the
comparatively spruce hat, he always continued covered. He might
often be seen sitting with his hat over his wig, but the Rule of Court
by which he was governed on this point is doubtful.
 Mary Moser, the Flower-Painter.

Mary Moser was the only daughter of George Michael Moser, R.A.,
goldchaser and enameller, and the first Keeper of the Royal Academy
of Arts in London. His daughter was a very distinguished flower-
painter, and was the only lady besides Angelica Kauffman who was
ever elected an Academician: she became afterwards Mrs. Lloyd.
Miss Moser, says Smith, in his Life of Nollekens, was somewhat
precise, but was at times a most cheerful companion: he has printed
three of her letters, two to Mrs. Lloyd, the wife of the gentleman to
whom she herself was afterwards married; and the other to Fuseli,
while in Rome, of whom she was said to have been an admirer. In
one to the former, alluding to the absurd fashions of the beginning
of the reign of George the Third, she says:—"Come to London and
admire our plumes; we sweep the skies! a duchess wears six
feathers, a lady four, and every milkmaid one at each corner of her
cap. Fashion is grown a monster: pray tell your operator that your
hair must measure three-quarters of a yard from the extremity of
one wing to the other." The second letter is chiefly on Lord
Chesterfield's Advice to his Son: she says to her friend, "If you have
read Lord Chesterfield's Letters, give me your opinion of them, and
what you think of his Lordship: for my part, I admire wit and adore
good manners, but at the same time I should detest Lord
Chesterfield, were he alive, young, and handsome, and my lover, if I
supposed, as I do now, his wit was the result of thought, and that
he had been practising the graces in the looking-glass." In her letter
to Fuseli, she gives this account of the Exhibition of the Royal
Academy in the year 1770:—"Reynolds was like himself in pictures
which you have seen; Gainsborough beyond himself in a portrait of a
gentleman in a Vandyck habit; and Zoffany superior to everybody in
a portrait of Garrick in the character of Abel Drugger, with two
figures, Subtle and Face. Sir Joshua agreed to give a hundred
guineas for the picture; Lord Carlisle had an hour after offered
Reynolds twenty to part with it, which the Knight generously
refused, resigned his intended purchase to the Lord, and the
emolument to his brother artist. He is a gentleman! Angelica made a
very great addition to the show, and Mr. Hamilton's picture of Briseis
parting from Achilles was very much admired; the Briseis in taste, à
l'antique, elegant and simple. Cotes, Dance, Wilson, &c., as usual."
Mary Moser decorated an entire room with flowers at Frogmore for
Queen Charlotte, for which she received 900l.; the room was called
Miss Moser's room. After her marriage, she practised only as an
amateur; she died at an advanced age in 1819. When West was re-
instated in the chair of the Royal Academy, in 1803, there was one
voice for Mrs. Lloyd, and when Fuseli was taxed with having given it,
he said, according to Knowles, his biographer, "Well, suppose I did;
she is eligible to the office; and is not one old woman as good as
another?" West and Fuseli were ill-according spirits.

An Old Maid on a Journey. The Eccentric Miss Banks.

 The Eccentric Miss Banks.

Oddities of dress were half-a-century ago much oftener to be seen

than in the present day; or, rather, their singularities were more
grotesque than the peculiarities of the present day. John Thomas
Smith, writing in 1818, says—"It is scarcely possible for any person
possessing the smallest share of common observation to pass
through the streets in London without noticing what is generally
denominated a character, either in dress, walk, pursuits, or
propensities." At the head of his remarks on the eccentricity of some
of their dresses he places Miss Sophia Banks, Sarah, the sister of Sir
Joseph, who was looked after by the eye of astonishment wherever
she went, and in whatever situation she appeared. Her dress was
that of the Old School; her Barcelona quilted petticoat had a hole on
either side for the convenience of rummaging two immense pockets,
stuffed with books of all sizes. This petticoat was covered with a
deep stomachered gown, sometimes obscuring the pocket-holes,
similar to many of the ladies of Bunbury's time, which he has
introduced into his prints. In this dress she might frequently be seen
walking, followed by a six-foot servant with a cane almost as tall as
himself. Miss Banks, for so that lady was called for many years, was
frequently heard to relate the following curious anecdote of herself:
after making repeated inquiries of the wall-vendors of halfpenny
ballads for a particular one which she wanted, she was informed by
the claret-faced woman who strung up her stock by Middlesex
Hospital gates, that if she went to a printer's in Long Lane,
Smithfield, probably he might supply her ladyship with what her
ladyship wanted. Away trudged Miss Banks through Smithfield: but
before she entered Mr. Thompson's shop, she desired her man to
wait for her at the corner, by the plum-pudding stall. "Yes, we have
it," was the printer's answer to her interrogative. He then gave Miss
Banks what is called a book, consisting of many songs. Upon her
expressing her surprise when the man returned her eightpence from
her shilling, and the great quantity of songs he had given her, when
she only wanted one—"What, then!" observed the man, "are you not
one of our characters? I beg your pardon."
This lady and Lady Banks, out of compliment to Sir Joseph, who had
been deeply engaged in the production of wool, had their riding-
habits made of his produce, in which dresses the two ladies at one
period on all occasions appeared. Indeed, so delighted was Miss
Banks with this overall covering, that she actually gave the habit-
maker orders for three at a time, and they were called Hightum,
Tightum, and Scrub. The first was her best, the second her second-
best, and the third her every-day one.
Once when Miss Banks and her sister-in-law visited a friend with
whom they were to stay several days, on the evening of their arrival
they sat down to dinner in their riding-habits. Their friend had a
large party after dinner to meet them, and they entered the
drawing-room in their riding-habits. On the following morning they
again appeared in their riding-habits; and so on, to the astonishment
of every one, till the conclusion of their visit.
Although Miss Banks paid great attention to many persons, there
were others to whom she was wanting in civility. A great genius,
who had arrived a quarter-of-an-hour before the time specified on
the card for dinner, was shown into the drawing-room, where Miss
Banks was putting away what are sometimes called rattletraps.
When the visitor observed, "It is a fine day, ma'am," she replied, "I
know nothing at all about it. You must speak to my brother upon
that subject when you are at dinner." Notwithstanding the very
singular appearance of Miss Banks, she was, when in the prime of
life, a fashionable whip, and drove four-in-hand. Miss Banks died in
1818.

Thomas Cooke, the Miser of Pentonville.

At No. 16, Winchester Place, now No. 64, Pentonville Road, lived, for
a period of fifteen years, Thomas Cooke, a notorious miser, who
heaped up wealth by the most ungenerous means and servility of
behaviour:

Gold banished honour from his mind,

And only left the name behind.

He was born about 1725 or 1726, at Clewer, near Windsor, and was
the son of an itinerant fiddler. He was left to the care of a
grandmother, who resided at Swannington, near Norwich. He
obtained employment in a factory, where the leading trait of his
character manifested itself. His companions in labour clubbed a
portion of their week's earnings to form a mess. This Cooke
declined, and determined to live more cheaply; and when others
went to dine, he went to the side of a neighbouring brook, and
made breakfast and dinner one meal, which consisted of a halfpenny
loaf, an apple, and a draught of water from the brook, taken up on
the brim of his cap. His economy so far seems to have been
judicious, as it enabled him to pay a boy who was an usher in the
village school to instruct him in the rudiments of education.
When he arrived at manhood, he obtained employment as porter to
a drysalter and paper-maker at Norwich; he was next made a
journeyman, with increased wages. He then, through his master, got
an appointment in the Excise, in a district near London; and his
master also gave him a letter of introduction to a sugar-baker in the
metropolis. After a tedious journey by waggon, he reached London,
with only eight shillings in his pocket. There was some delay and
expense before he could act as an exciseman, and his immediate
necessities compelled him to take the situation of porter to the
sugar-baker. He then became a journeyman, and by his
parsimonious habits saved money enough to pay the preliminary
expenses, and was enabled to assume the office to which he had so
long aspired.
He was then appointed to inspect a paper-mill at Tottenham, where
he closely watched a new process in paper-making. During Cooke's
official visits to this mill the owner died, and his widow resolved to
carry on the business with the aid of a foreman. Cooke had noted
here many infractions of the law, which, designedly or otherwise,
were daily taking place; and having summed up the penalties
incurred thereby, which he set off against the value of the concern,
he privately informed the widow that he had complained of these
malpractices, and told her that if the fines were levied, they would
amount to double the value of the property she possessed, and
reduce her to want and imprisonment. This he followed up by an
overture of marriage, and assured the lady that he only knew of the
frauds of her establishment. The widow consented to become his
wife when the appointed days of mourning for her first husband had
expired. To this Cooke agreed, but lest she might prove fickle, he
required of her a promise in writing. On his marriage, Cooke became
possessed of her property, which was considerable, together with
the lease of the mills at Tottenham.
He next purchased a large sugar-baker's business in Puddle Dock.
His parsimony now became extreme: he kept no table, but obtained
the greater part of his daily food by well-timed visits to persons of
his acquaintance. He had good conversational powers, and these he
usually turned to his profit. Sometimes, when walking the streets, he
fell down in a pretended fit, opposite to the house of one whose
bounty he sought. No humane person could well refuse admission to
a man in apparent distress and of respectable appearance, whose
well-powdered wig and long ruffles induced a belief that he was
some decayed citizen who had seen better days. For the assistance
thus kindly given he would express his gratitude in the most
energetic manner. He would ask for a glass of water, but if wine was
offered, he said, "No, he never drank anything but water;" but when
pressed by his kind host, would take it, and exclaim, "God bless my
soul, sir, this is very excellent wine! Pray, sir, who is your wine
merchant? for indeed, to tell you the truth, it was the difficulty of
getting good wine that caused me to leave it off entirely." Upon
invitation, he would take another glass, and thanking his host,
depart. A few days after, he would call at the house of his kind
entertainer just at dinner-time, professedly to thank him for having
saved his life, and on being invited to dine would at first demur,
urging that "My gruel is waiting for me at home." On sitting down to
dinner he would take notice of the children; and after great
pretended kindness, would say to the mother, "God bless them,
pretty dears. Pray, madam, will you have the goodness to give me all
their names in writing?" Thus artfully did he contrive to make his
kind entertainers think that he designed to do some good thing for
their children; and they now sought the continuance of his friendship
by occasional presents of game or a dozen or two of the wine he
had so much approved.
Many persons were in this way made the victims of Cooke's
sophistries. By these gifts, his housekeeping expenses were reduced
to fifteen-pence a day, and it was sinful extravagance if they reached
two shillings. Such comestibles as he could not consume, he
disposed of to the dealers and others. He drank only water, but as
for the "gormandizing, gluttonous maids, they could not drink, not
they, what he did; nothing would serve them but table-beer." This he
kept in his front parlour, with a lock-tap to it, of which he held the
key, and at meal-times he drew exactly half-a-pint for each woman.
With all his rigid economy, Cook found, to his great grief, that by his
sugar-bakery he had lost 500l. in twelve months. To amend this
state of affairs, and to discover some of the secrets of the trade, he
invited several sugar-bakers to dine with him, and plying them well
with wine, wheedled out of the persons in business the coveted
information. His wife was alarmed at this seeming extravagance, but
he silenced her scruples by telling her he would "suck as much of
the brains" of some of the fools as would amply repay them.
Having retired from business, he resided for a time at the Angel Inn,
Islington, from whence he removed to Winchester Place. The plot of
garden-ground in the rear he sowed with cabbage-seed, and with
his own hands manured it. To obtain the manure, he would, on
moonlight nights, go out with a shovel and basket and take up the
horse-dung which lay in the City Road. This scheming obtained for
him the name of "Cabbage Cooke."
The only luxury he allowed his wife was a small quantity of table-
beer; and by his general mal-treatment he caused her so much grief
that she died of a broken heart. Soon after his wife's death, he paid
his addresses to several rich widows, but none would listen to his
suit, especially as he desired all their property should be made over
to him.
Cooke was fond of horse-racing, and contrived to be present at
Epsom races at the expense of some of his acquaintances. He once
had a horse; but finding it too expensive to keep at livery, for this
purpose he converted the kitchen of his house into a stable, and he
used to curry and fodder the horse with his own hands.
During his fifteen years' residence in Winchester Place, he never
once painted the house inside or outside, nor would he allow the
landlord to paint it. He was then served with legal notice to quit; this
he disregarded. At last he so implored the landlord not to turn him
into the street, that he consented to allow him time to provide
himself with a house, and this in presence of an associate whom he
brought purposely in the room. The landlord then had him served
with an ejectment; but upon the case being brought to trial, Cooke
brought forward in evidence the witness to the promise of the
landlord, who was accordingly nonsuited. The landlord, however,
brought another action, in which he succeeded; and Cooke removed
to No. 85, White Lion Street, Pentonville.
Sickness and old age now compelled Cooke to seek medical advice,
when he obtained, by some artifice, a patient's dispensary letter; but
his cheat was discovered. Cooke's principle was, "No cure, no pay;"
and when a physician, to whom he had been very troublesome, told
him he could do nothing more for him, he said, "Then give me back
my money, sir. Why did you rob me of my money, unless you meant
to cure me?" Yet Cooke was a professing Christian, and a regular
attendant at the ordinances of religion, and he seldom failed to
receive the sacrament. He died August 26th, 1811, at the age of
eighty-six, and was buried on the 30th at St. Mary's, Islington. Some
of the mob threw cabbage-stalks on his coffin as it was lowered into
the grave.
The wealth that Cooke had amassed during his long life-time, by
meanness, artifice, and pretended poverty, amounted to the large
sum of 127,205l. in the Three per cent. Consols. During his lifetime
his charities were but few. But, as if to atone for a life of avarice, he
left by will the bulk of his riches to several charitable societies, and a
few trifling legacies to individuals.

Thomas Cooke, the Turkey Merchant.

This eccentric gentleman was resident at Constantinople as a

merchant at the time Charles XII. of Sweden was in Turkey, in 1714,
and contributed in a very munificent manner to the relief of the royal
prisoner. Mr. Cooke well knew the Divan wished to get rid of the
king, their prisoner, who always pleaded poverty and inability to pay
his debts; and they having lent him money, were afraid to lend him
any more. He, however, devised a scheme to assist him, and applied
to the Lord High Treasurer, who heard the proposal with great
satisfaction, but was surprised to be told, "Your excellency must find
the money." To this he answered, by a very natural question, "How
will you ever pay us?" Mr. Cooke replied, they were building a
mosque, and would stand in need of lead to cover it, which he would
engage to supply. Next morning the proposal was accepted, and the
arrangements concluded.
Mr. Cooke then treated with the King of Sweden, and offered him a
certain sum of money upon condition of being repaid in copper, the
exportation of which from Sweden had been for some time
prohibited, at a stipulated price. The offer was accepted, and the
money paid to the king by the hands of La Mortraye, the well-known
author of several volumes of Travels; and Mr. Cooke received an
order upon the states of Sweden to be paid in copper, which he sold
to a house in that kingdom, at an advance of 12,000l. sterling upon
the first cost, besides the profit he obtained upon the sale of his
lead. The money lent was not sufficient for the king's liberation; he
stayed in Turkey till he had nothing left but a knife and fork. Upon
hearing of the king's situation, Mr. Cooke one day surprised him with
a present of his whole sideboard of plate; and for this conduct
towards their sovereign his name was idolized by the Swedes.
Mr. Cooke was for many years in the commission of the peace for
the county of Middlesex, and was three years governor of the Bank
of England. He was a man of singular character, very shrewd, but
highly esteemed, particularly for his unbounded munificence. Having
made his will, whereby he had bequeathed 1,000l. to the clerks of
the Bank, he resolved on being his own executor, and to give them
the money in his lifetime. Accordingly, in the month of February,
preceding his death, he sent a note of 1,000l. to the governor of the
Bank, requesting that it might be distributed among the clerks, in
the proportion of one guinea for every year that each person had
been in their service, and the remaining 3l. to the porters.
Mr. Cooke died at Stoke Newington, 12th of August, 1752, aged
eighty. By his own directions he was attended to the grave by twelve
poor housekeepers belonging to a box-club at Stoke Newington, of
which he had long been a generous and useful member. To each
man he bequeathed a guinea and a suit of clothes, and as much
victuals and drink as he chose; but if either of the legatees got
fuddled he was to forfeit his legacy, and was only to receive half-a-
crown for his day's work. Mr. Cooke's corpse was wrapped in a clean
blanket, sewed up, and, being put into a common coffin, was
conveyed, with the above attendants, in three coaches, to the grave
close to a stile, near Sir John Morden's College, on Blackheath, of
which he was a trustee. The corpse was then taken out of the coffin,
which was left in the college for the first pensioner it would fit, and
buried in a winding-sheet upright in the ground, according to the
Eastern custom.
Cooke's widow maintained the same benevolent character with
himself, and died at Stoke Newington, January 15th, 1763. They had
issue two daughters, both of whom died before their father.

"Lady Lewson," of Clerkenwell.

In Cold Bath Square, for the space of ninety years, lived Mrs.
Lewson, commonly called "Lady Lewson," from her very eccentric
manner of dress. She was born in the year 1700, in the reign of
William and Mary, in Essex Street, Strand, of respectable parents
named Vaughan; and she was married at an early age to Mr.
Lewson, a wealthy gentleman, then living in Cold Bath Square, in the
house wherein she subsequently continued to reside. She became a
widow at the age of twenty-six, having only one daughter living at
the time. She was left by her husband in affluent circumstances; she
preferred to continue single, and remained so, although she had
many suitors. When her daughter married, Mrs. Lewson was left
alone, and being of retired habits, she rarely went out, or permitted
the visits of any person. During the last thirty years of her life, she
kept only one servant, an old woman, who died after a servitude of
twenty years: she was succeeded by her grand-daughter, who
marrying, was replaced by an old man, who attended the different
houses in the Square to go of errands, clean shoes, &c. "Lady
Lewson" took this man into her house, and he acted as her steward,
butler, cook, and housemaid; and with the exception of two old
lapdogs and a cat, was her only companion.
The house in which she lived was large and elegantly furnished; the
beds were kept constantly made, although they had not been slept
in for about thirty years. Her apartment was only occasionally swept
out, and never washed; and the windows were so encrusted with
dirt, that they hardly admitted a ray of light. She used to tell her
acquaintances that if the rooms were washed, it might be the
occasion of her catching cold; and as to cleaning the windows, many
accidents happened through that ridiculous practice—the glass might
be broken, the person who cleaned them might be injured, and the
expense would fall upon her. There was a large garden in the rear of
the house, which she kept in good order; and here, when the
weather was fine, she sometimes sat and read, or chatted of times
past with such of her acquaintances as she could be persuaded to
admit. She seldom visited, except at the house of a grocer in Cold
Bath Square, with whom she dealt. She had survived many years
every relative, and was thus left to indulge her odd tastes.
She was so partial to the fashions that prevailed in her youthful
days, that she never changed the manner of her dress from that
worn in the time of George I., being always decorated

With ruffs, and cuffs, and fardingales.

She always wore powder, with a large tache, made of horsehair,

upon her head, over which the hair was turned, and she placed the
cap, which was tied under her chin, and three or four rows of curls
hung down her neck. She generally wore a silk dress, with a long
train, a deep flounce all round, and a very long waist; her gown was
very tightly laced up to her neck, round which was a ruff or frill; the
sleeves came down below the elbows, and to each of them four or
five large cuffs were attached; a large bonnet, quite flat, high-heeled
shoes, a large black silk cloak trimmed with lace, and a gold-headed
cane, completed her every-day costume for eighty years; in which
dress she occasionally walked round the Square. She never washed
herself, because she thought those persons who did so were always
taking cold, or engendering some dreadful disorder; her method was
to besmear her face and neck all over with hog's-lard, because that
was soft and lubricating; and because she wanted a little colour on
her cheeks, she bedaubed them with rose-pink. Her manner of living
was very methodical: she would only drink tea out of one cup, and
always sat in her favourite chair. She enjoyed good health, and
entertained the greatest aversion to medicine. At the age of eighty-
three, she cut two new teeth, and she was never troubled with
tooth-ache. She lived in five reigns, and had the events of the year
1715 (the Scottish Rebellion) fresh in her recollection.
The sudden death of an old lady who was a neighbour made a deep
impression on Mrs. Lewson; believing her own time had come, she
became weak, took to her bed, refused medical aid, and on Tuesday,
the 28th of May, 1816, died at her house in Cold Bath Square, at the
age of 116; she was interred in Bunhill Fields burying-ground. "At
her death," says Mr. Warner, in his MS. Notes on Clerkenwell, "I went
over the house, and was struck with astonishment at the number of
bars, bolts, &c., to the whole of the doors and windows; the ceilings
of the upper floor were completely lined with strong boards, braced
together with iron bars, to prevent any one getting into the house
from the roof. The ashes had not been removed for many years;
they were neatly piled up, as if formed into beds for some particular
purpose, around the yard. Her furniture, &c., were sold by auction,
and persons were admitted to view by producing a catalogue, which
was sold at sixpence, and would permit any number of persons at
one time."[10]

Profits of Dust-sifting, and Dust-heaps.

Many years ago a dust-sifter, named Mary Collins, residing in Bell

Street, Lisson Grove, was robbed by a nurse, when her evidence
before the police magistrate was remarkable for the extraordinary
disclosures it incidentally afforded of the large profits obtained from
the apparently humble vocation of dust-sifting. The articles stolen
were in a pocket, and were thus described: one coral necklace, large
beads; one ditto, with pearl clasp; several handsome brooches; five
gold seals; some gold rings; several gold shirt-pins; a quantity of
loose beads; broken bits of gold and silver, &c. Mr. Rawlinson, the
magistrate, expressed his surprise at her having such a motley
assortment of valuables. Complainant: Your worship, we find them
amongst the dust.—Mr. Rawlinson: Indeed! what, all these articles?
—Complainant: Oh, your worship, that's nothing; we find many more
things than them: we find almost every small article that can be
mentioned. We are employed by the dust contractor, who allows us
8d. per load for sifting, besides which we have all the spoons and
other articles which we may find amongst the dust.—Mr. Rawlinson:
That is dustman's law, I suppose: but pray how many silver spoons
may you find in the course of the year?—Complainant: It is
impossible to say: sometimes more and sometimes less.
Mr. Rawlinson declared that what she had just related was quite
novel to him. The urbane manner of the worthy magistrate won
upon the old lady and made her quite communicative. She had
followed her occupation eight years, and what with the "perquisites"
(id est, articles found), and the savings from "hard labour," she had
realized sufficient money to think about house-building, and had
then a house erecting which she expected would cost her at least
300l. She had deposited 100l. in the hands of her employer, in part
payment, and as a proof that all was not vaunting, she produced her
box, in which were thirty-nine sovereigns, two five-pound bank-
notes, and several guineas and half-sovereigns.
Early in the present century, the spot of ground on which now
stands Argyle Street, Liverpool Street, Manchester Street, and the
corner of Gray's Inn Road, was covered with a mountain of filth and
cinders, the accumulation of many years, and which afforded food
for hundreds of pigs. The Russians bought the whole of the ash-
heap, and shipped it to Moscow, to be used in rebuilding that city
after it had been burned by the French. The Battle-bridge dustmen
had a certain celebrity in their day. The ground on which the dust-
heap stood was sold in 1826 to the Pandemonium Company for
fifteen thousand pounds; they walled in the whole, and built a
theatre, which now remains at the corner of Liverpool Street. The
Company's scheme was, however, abandoned, and the ground was
let on building leases. The heap is mentioned in the burlesque song,
Adam Bell, the Literary Dustman:[11]

You recollect the cinder heap,

Vot stood in Gray's Inn Lane, sirs?

When the street now called the Caledonian Road was in the fields,
there was at the Battle-bridge end of the road a large accumulation
of horse-bones, which were stored there by some horse-
slaughterers. And in 1833, Battle-bridge was described in the New
Monthly Magazine as "the grand centre of dustmen, scavengers,
horse and dog dealers, knackermen, brickmakers, and other low but
necessary professionalists." The dust-heap is described as "that
sublime, sifted wonder of cockneys, the cloud-kissing dust-heap
which sold for twenty thousand pounds;" but this is doubtful.
Mr. T. C. Noble has communicated to Pinks's History of Clerkenwell
the following particulars of the Dust and Cinder Heap, &c.—"The
estate at Battle-bridge comprised from seventeen to twenty acres.
Of this my grandfather took sixteen small dilapidated houses, and
the dust and cinder heap, which, it was said, had been existing on
the spot since the Great Fire of London. He gave about 500l. for the
lot, although the parties wanted 800l. Bricks were then very scarce,
so he very soon realized a good sum for the old buildings, while
Russia, hearing in some way of this enormous dust-heap, purchased
it for purposes in rebuilding Moscow. The site of the mountain of
dust is now covered by the houses of Derby Street, and I may add,
the names of the thoroughfares erected on this estate were derived
from the popular ministers of that day. The rental derived from the
property by my grandfather exceeded 1,000l. a year."
John Thomas Smith gives the following notes upon oddities of the
above class:—"Within my time many men have indulged most
ridiculously in their eccentricities. I have known one who had made
a pretty large fortune in business get up at four o'clock in the
morning and walk the streets to pick up horse-shoes which had been
slipped in the course of the night, with no other motive than to see
how many he could accumulate in the course of a year. I also
remember a rich soap-boiler who never missed an opportunity of
pocketing nails, pieces of iron hoops, and bits of leather in his daily
walks; and these he would spread upon a large walnut-tree three-
flapped dining-table, with a similar view to that of the horse-shoe
collector. This wealthy citizen would often put on a red woollen cap
and a waggoner's frock, in order to stoke his own furnace; after
which he would dress, get into his coach, and, attended by tall
servants in bright blue liveries, drive to his villa, where his hungry
friends were waiting his arrival."

Sir John Dinely, Bart.

This eccentric baronet, of the family of the Dinelys, of Charlton,

descended by the female line from the Royal House of Plantagenet,
having dissipated the wreck of the family estates, obtained the
pension and situation of a poor knight of Windsor. His chief
occupation consisted in advertising for a wife, and nearly thirty years
were passed in assignations to meet the fair respondents to his
advertisements. His figure was truly grotesque: in wet weather he
was mounted on a high pair of pattens; he wore the coat of the
Windsor uniform, with a velvet embroidered waistcoat, satin
breeches, silk stockings, and a full-bottomed wig. In this finery he
might be seen strolling one day; and next out marketing, carrying a
penny loaf, a morsel of butter, a quartern of sugar, and a farthing
candle. Twice or thrice a year he came to London, and visited
Vauxhall Gardens and the theatres. His fortune, if he could recover
it, he estimated at 300,000l. He invited the widow as well as the
blooming maiden of sixteen, and addressed them in printed
documents, bearing his signature, in which he specified the sum the
ladies must possess; he expected less property with youth than age
or widowhood; adding that few ladies would be eligible that did not
possess at least 10,000l. a year, which, however, was nothing
compared to the honour his high birth and noble descent would
confer; the incredulous he referred to Nash's Worcestershire. He
addressed his advertisements to "the angelic fair" from his house in
Windsor Castle (one of the poor knight's houses). He cherished to
the last the expectation of forming a connubial connection with
some lady of property, but, alas! he died a bachelor in 1808.[12]

A well-known character on 'Change. Rothschild.

The Rothschilds.
In the Memoirs of Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton, edited by his son, we
find this amusing letter, dated 1834: "We yesterday dined at Ham
House, to meet the Rothschilds; and very amusing it was. He
(Rothschild) told us his life and adventures. He was the third son of
the banker at Frankfort. 'There was not,' he said, 'room enough for
us all in that city. I dealt in English goods. One great trader came
there, who had the market to himself; he was quite the great man,
and did us a favour if he sold us goods. Somehow I offended him,
and he refused to show me his patterns. This was on a Tuesday; I
said to my father, "I will go to England." I could speak nothing but
German. On the Thursday I started. The nearer I got to England, the
cheaper goods were. As soon as I got to Manchester, I laid out all
my money, things were so cheap; and I made good profit. I soon
found that there were three profits—the raw material, the dyeing,
and the manufacturing. I said to the manufacturer, "I will supply you
with material and dye, and you supply me with manufactured
goods." So I got three profits instead of one, and I could sell goods
cheaper than anybody. In a short time I made my 20,000l. into
60,000l. My success all turned on one maxim. I said, I can do what
another man can, and so I am a match for the man with the
patterns, and for all the rest of them! Another advantage I had. I
was an off-hand man. I made a bargain at once. When I was settled
in London, the East India Company had 800,000 ounces of gold to
sell. I went to the sale, and bought it all. I knew the Duke of
Wellington must have it. I had bought a great many of his bills at a
discount. The Government sent for me, and said they must have it.
When they had got it, they did not know how to get it to Portugal. I
undertook all that, and I sent it through France; and that was the
best business I ever did.'
"Another maxim, on which he seemed to place great reliance, was,
never to have anything to do with an unlucky place or an unlucky
man. 'I have seen,' said he, 'many clever men, very clever men, who
had not shoes to their feet. I never act with them. Their advice
sounds very well; but fate is against them; they cannot get on
themselves; and if they cannot do good to themselves, how can they
do good to me?' By aid of these maxims he has acquired three
millions of money. 'I hope,' said ——, 'that your children are not too
fond of money and business, to the exclusion of more important
things. I am sure you would not wish that.'—Rothschild: 'I am sure I
should wish that. I wish them to give mind, and soul, and heart, and
body, and everything to business; that is the way to be happy. It
requires a great deal of boldness and a great deal of caution to
make a great fortune; and when you have got it, it requires ten
times as much wit to keep it. If I were to listen to all the projects
proposed to me, I should ruin myself very soon. Stick to one
business, young man,' said he to Edward; 'stick to your brewery, and
you may be the great brewer of London. Be a brewer, and a banker,
and a merchant, and a manufacturer, and you will soon be in the
Gazette.
"'One of my neighbours is a very ill-tempered man; he tries to vex
me, and has built a great place for swine close to my walk. So, when
I go out, I hear, first grunt, grunt, squeak, squeak; but this does me
no harm. I am always in good humour. Sometimes to amuse myself I
give a beggar a guinea. He thinks it is a mistake, and for fear I
should find it out, off he runs as hard as he can. I advise you to give
a beggar a guinea sometimes, it is very amusing.' The daughters are
very pleasing. The second son is a mighty hunter, and his father lets
him buy any horses he likes. He lately applied to the Emperor of
Morocco for a first-rate Arab horse. The Emperor sent him a
magnificent one; but he died as he landed in England. The poor
youth said very feelingly, 'that was the greatest misfortune he ever
had suffered;' and I felt strong sympathy with him. I forgot to say,
that soon after Mr. Rothschild came to England, Bonaparte invaded
Germany. 'The Prince of Hesse Cassel,' said Rothschild, 'gave my
father his money; there was no time to be lost; he sent it to me. I
had 600,000l. arrive unexpectedly by the post; and I put it to such
good use, that the Prince made me a present of all his wine and his
linen.'"
 A Legacy of Half a Million of Money.

On the 30th of August, 1852, there died at Chelsea John Camden

Neild, a wealthy gentleman, who had bequeathed an immense
legacy to Queen Victoria. His father was a native of Knutsford, in
Cheshire; as a goldsmith in London he made a large fortune. He was
a truly benevolent man, especially in his efforts for the improvement
of prisons, and originated the Society for the Relief of Persons
imprisoned for Small Debts. He married the daughter of John
Camden, Esq., of Battersea, in Surrey, a direct descendant of the
great antiquary of the same name. He died in 1814, and was buried
at Chelsea.
John Camden Neild, the only surviving son of the above, was born in
1780; educated at Trinity College, Cambridge, studied at Lincoln's
Inn, and in 1808 was called to the bar. In 1814 he succeeded to the
whole of his father's property, estimated at 250,000l.; but he made a
very different use of his wealth. Avarice was his ruling passion; he
became a confirmed miser, and for the last thirty years of his life
gave himself over to heaping up riches. He lived in a large but
meanly furnished house in Cheyne Walk, Chelsea; and he slept on a
bare board, and latterly on an old stump bedstead, on which he
died. His favourite companion was a large black cat, which was in his
chamber when he breathed his last.
He had considerable property at North Marston, in Buckinghamshire,
and here he often stayed for days together, besides his half-yearly
visits to receive rents. As lessee of the rectory, it was incumbent on
him to repair the chancel of the church; the leaded roof having
become full of fissures, he had them covered with strips of painted
calico, saying they would "last his time." During this odd repair, he
sat all day on the roof, to keep the workmen employed and even ate
his dinner there, which consisted of hard-boiled eggs, dry bread, and
buttermilk.