1797 to 1798.
The thieves make a second attempt; alarmed by their perseverance,
Grimaldi repairs to Hatton Garden--Interview with Mr. Trott;
ingenious device of that gentleman and its result on the third
visit of the Burglars--Comparative attractions of Pantomime
and Spectacle--Trip to Gravesend and Chatham--Disagreeable
recognition of a good-humoured friend, and an agreeable mode of
journeying recommended to all Travellers.
On the third night,--the previous two having passed in perfect quiet
and security,--the servant girl was at work in the kitchen, when she
fancied she heard a sound as if some person were attempting to force
open the garden-door. She thought it merely the effect of fancy at
first, but the noise continuing, she went softly up stairs into the
passage, and on looking towards the door, saw that the latch was moved
up and down several times by a hand outside, while some person pushed
violently against the door itself.
The poor girl being very much frightened, her first impulse was
to scream violently; but so far were her cries from deterring the
persons outside from persisting in their attempt, that they only
seemed to press it with redoubled vigour. Indeed, so violent were
their exertions, as if irritated by the noise the girl made, that
the door was very nearly forced from its position, in which state it
was discovered on a subsequent inspection. If it had not been proof
against the attacks of the thieves, the girl would assuredly have been
murdered. Recovering her presence of mind, however, on finding that
they could not force an entrance, she ran to the street-door, flung it
open, and had immediate recourse to the rattle, which she wielded with
such hearty good will, that the watchman and half the neighbourhood
were quickly on the spot. Immediate search was made for the robbers
in the rear of the house, but they had thought it prudent to escape
quietly.
Upon the return of the family, all their old apprehensions were
revived, and their former fears were increased tenfold by the bold and
daring nature of this second attempt. Watch was kept all night, the
watchers starting at the slightest sound; rest was out of the question,
and nothing but dismay and confusion prevailed.
The next morning it was resolved that the house should be fortified
with additional strength, and that when these precautions had been
taken, Grimaldi should repair to the police-office of the district,
state his case to the sitting magistrate, and claim the assistance of
the constituted authorities.
Having had bars of iron, and plates of iron, and patent locks, and
a variety of ingenious defences affixed to the interior of the
garden-door, which, when fastened with all these appurtenances,
appeared nearly impregnable, Grimaldi accordingly walked down to Hatton
Garden, with the view of backing the locks and bolts with the aid of
the executive.
There was at that time a very shrewd, knowing officer attached to
that establishment, whose name was Trott. This Trott was occasionally
employed to assist the regular constables at the theatre, when they
expected a great house; and Grimaldi no sooner stepped into the
passage, than walking up to him, Trott accosted him with:--
"How do, master?"
"How do _you_ do?"
"Pretty well, thankee, master; I was just going to call up at your
place."
"Ah!" said the other, "you have heard of it, then?"
"Yes, I have heard of it," said Mr. Trott, with a grin, "and heard a
great deal more about it than you know on, master."
"You don't surely mean to say that you have apprehended the burglars?"
"No, no, I don't mean that; I wish I did: they have been one too many
for me as yet. Why, when they first started in business there worn't
fewer than twenty men in that gang. Sixteen or seventeen on 'em have
been hung or transported, and the rest is them that has been at your
house. They have got a hiding-place somewhere in Pentonville. I'll
tell you what, master," said Trott, taking the other by the button,
and speaking in a hoarse whisper, "they are the worst of the lot; up
to everything they are; and take my word for it, Mr. Grimaldi, they'll
stick at nothing."
Grimaldi looked anything but pleased at this intelligence, and Trott
observing his disturbed countenance, added,--
"Don't you be alarmed, master; what they want is, their revenge for
their former disappointment. That's what it is," said Trott, nodding
his head sagaciously.
"It appears very extraordinary," said Grimaldi. "This is a very
distressing situation to be placed in."
"Why, so it is," said the officer, after a little consideration;--"so
it is, when you consider that they never talk without doing. But don't
be afraid, Mr. Grimaldi."
"Oh no, I'm not," replied the other; adding, in as cool a manner as he
could assume, "they came again last night."
"I know that," said the officer. "I'll let you into another secret,
master. They are coming again to-night."
"Again to-night!" exclaimed Grimaldi.
"As sure as fate," replied the officer, nodding to a friend who was
passing down the street on the other side of the way,--"and if your
establishment an't large enough, and powerful enough to resist 'em--"
"Large and powerful enough!" exclaimed the other,--"why there are only
three women and one other male person besides myself in the house."
"Ah!" said Mr. Trott, "that isn't near enough."
"Enough! no!" rejoined Grimaldi; "and it would kill my mother."
"I dare say it would," acquiesced the officer; "my mother was killed in
a similar manner."
This, like the rest of the officer's discourse, was far from
consolatory, and Grimaldi looked anxiously in his face for something
like a ray of hope.
Mr. Trott meditated for some short time, and then, looking up with his
head on one side, said, "I think I see a way now, master."
"What is it? What do you propose? I'm agreeable to anything," said
Grimaldi, in a most accommodating manner.
"Never mind that," said the officer. "You put yourself into my hands,
and I'll be the saving of your property, and the taking of them."
Grimaldi burst into many expressions of admiration and gratitude, and
put his hand into Mr. Trott's hands, as an earnest of his readiness to
deposit himself there.
"Only rid us," said Grimaldi, "of these dreadful visitors, who really
keep us in a state of perpetual misery, and anything you think proper
to accept shall be cheerfully paid you."
The officer replied, with many moral observations on the duties of
police-officers, their incorruptible honesty, their zeal, and rigid
discharge of the functions reposed in them. If Mr. Grimaldi would do
his duty to his country, and prosecute them to conviction, that was all
he required.
To this, Grimaldi, not having any precise idea of the expense of a
prosecution, readily assented, and the officer declared he should be
sufficiently repaid by the pleasing consciousness of having done his
duty. He did not consider it necessary to add, that a reward had been
offered for the apprehension of the same offenders, payable on their
conviction.
They walked back to the house together, and the officer having
inspected it with the practised eye of an experienced person, declared
himself thoroughly satisfied, and stated that if his injunctions were
strictly attended to, he had no doubt his final operations would be
completely successful.
"It will be necessary," said Trott, speaking with great pomp and
grandeur, as the inmates assembled round him to hear his oration,--"it
will be necessary to take every portable article out of the back
kitchen, the parlour, and the bedroom, and to give me up the entire
possession of this house for one night; at least until such time as I
shall have laid my hand upon these here gentlemen."
It is needless to say that this proposition was agreed to, and that
the females at once went about clearing the rooms as the officer had
directed. At five o'clock in the afternoon he returned, and the keys
of the house were delivered up to him. These arrangements having been
made, the family departed to the theatre as usual, leaving Mr. Trott
alone in the house; for the servant girl had been sent away to a
neighbour's by his desire, whether from any feeling of delicacy on the
part of Mr. Trott, (who was a married man,) or from any apprehension
that she might impede his operations, we are not informed.
The officer remained alone in the house, taking care not to go near any
of the windows until it was dark, when two of his colleagues, coming
by appointment to the garden-door, were stealthily admitted into the
house. Having carefully scrutinised the whole place, they disposed
themselves in the following order. One man locked and bolted in the
front kitchen, another locked and bolted himself in the sitting-room
above stairs, and Mr. Trott, the presiding genius, in the front-parlour
towards the street; the last-named gentleman having, before he retired
into ambuscade, bolted and barred the back-door, and only locked the
front one.
Here they remained for some time, solitary enough, no doubt, for there
was not a light in the house, and each man being fastened in a room
by himself was as much alone as if there had been no one else in the
place. The time seemed unusually long; they listened intently, and were
occasionally deceived for an instant by some noise in the street, but
it soon subsided again, and all was silent as before.
At length, some time after night-fall, a low knock came to the
street-door. No attention being paid to it, the knock was repeated, and
this time it was rather louder. It echoed through the house, but no
one stirred. After a short interval, as if the person outside had been
listening and had satisfied himself, a slight rattling was heard at
the keyhole, and, the lock being picked, the footsteps of two men were
heard in the passage.
They quietly bolted the door after them, and pulling from beneath their
coats a couple of dark lanterns, walked softly up stairs. Finding the
door of the front-room locked, they came down again, and tried the
front-parlour, which was also locked, whereat, Mr. Trott, who was
listening with his ear close to the handle, laughed immoderately, but
without noise.
Unsuccessful in these two attempts, they went down stairs, and with
some surprise found one of the kitchens locked, and the other open.
Only stopping just to peep into the open one, they once more ascended
to the passage.
"Well," said one of the men, as he came up the kitchen stairs, "we have
got it all to ourselves to-night, anyway, so we had better not lose any
time. Hollo!"--
"What's the matter?" said the other, looking back.
"Look here!" rejoined his comrade, pointing to the garden-door,
with the bolts, and iron plates, and patent locks,--"here's
protection--here's security for a friend. These have been put on since
we were here afore; we might have tried to get in for everlasting."
"We had better stick it open," said the other man, "and then if there's
any game in front, we can get off as we did t'other night."
"Easily said. How do you do it?" said the first speaker, "it will take
no end of time, and make no end of noise, to undo all these things. We
had better look sharp. There's no rehearsal to-night, remember."
At this, they both laughed, and determining to take the front-parlour
first, picked the lock without more ado. This done, they pushed against
the door to open it, but were unable to do so by reason of the bolts
inside, which Mr. Trott had taken good care to thrust into the staples
as far as they would possibly go.
"This is a rum game!" said one of the fellows, giving the door a kick,
"it wont open!"
"Never mind, let it be," said the other man; "there's a spring or
something. The back kitchen's open; we had better begin there; we
know there's some property here, because we took it away before. Show
yourself smart, and bring the bag."
As the speaker stooped to trim his lantern, the other man joined him,
and said, with an oath and a chuckle--
"Shouldn't you like to know who it was as struck you with the sword,
Tom?"
"I wish I did," growled the other; "I'd put a knife in him before many
days was over. Come on."
They went down stairs, and Trott, softly gliding from his hiding-place,
double-locked the street-door, and put the key in his pocket. He then
stationed himself at the top of the kitchen stairs, where he listened
with great glee to the exclamations of surprise and astonishment which
escaped the robbers, as they opened drawer after drawer, and found them
all empty.
"Everything taken away!"--said one of the men: "what the devil does
this mean?"
The officer, by way of reply, fired a pistol charged only with blank
powder, down the stairs, and retreated expeditiously to his parlour.
This being the signal, the sound was instantly followed by the noise
of the other two officers unlocking and unbolting the doors of their
hiding-places. The thieves, scrambling up stairs, rushed quickly to the
street-door, but, in consequence of its being locked, they were unable
to escape; were easily made prisoners, handcuffed, and borne away in
triumph.
The affair was all over, and the house restored to order, when the
family came home. The officer who had been despatched to bring the
servant home, and left behind to bear her company in case any of the
companions of the thieves should pay the house a visit, took his
departure as soon as they appeared, bearing with him a large sack left
behind by the robbers, which contained as extensive an assortment of
the implements of their trade, as had been so fortunately captured on
their first appearance.
Grimaldi appeared at Hatton Garden the next morning, and was introduced
to the prisoners for the first time. His testimony having been taken,
and the evidence of Mr. Trott and his men received, by which the
identity of the criminals was clearly proved, they were fully committed
for trial, and Grimaldi was bound over to prosecute. They were tried at
the ensuing Sessions; the jury at once found them guilty, and they were
transported for life.
This anecdote, which is narrated in every particular precisely as
the circumstances occurred, affords a striking and curious picture
of the state of society in and about London, in this respect, at the
very close of the last century. The bold and daring highwaymen who
took the air at Hounslow, Bagshot, Finchley, and a hundred other
places of quite fashionable resort, had ceased to canter their
blood-horses over heath and road in search of plunder, but there still
existed in the capital and its environs, common and poorer gangs
of thieves, whose depredations were conducted with a daring, and
disregard of consequences, which to the citizens of this age is wholly
extraordinary. One attempt at robbery similar to that which has just
been described, committed now-a-days in such a spot, would fill the
public papers for a month; but three such attempts on the same house,
and by the same men, would set all London, and all the country for
thirty miles round to boot, in a ferment of wonder and indignation.
It was proved, on the examination of these men at the police-office,
that they were the only remaining members of a band of thieves
called the "Pentonville Robbers," and the prosecutor and his family
congratulated themselves not a little upon the fact, inasmuch as it
relieved them from the apprehension that there were any more of their
companions left behind who might feel disposed to revenge their fate.
This was Grimaldi's first visit to a police-office. His next appearance
on the same scene was under very different circumstances. But of this
anon.
The fears of the family had been so thoroughly roused, and their
dreams were haunted by such constant visions of the Pentonville
Robbers, that the house grew irksome and distressing, especially to
the females. Moreover, Grimaldi now began to think it high time that
his marriage should take place; and, as now that he had gained the
mother's approval, he did not so entirely despair of succeeding with
the father, he resolved to take a larger house, and to furnish and fit
it up handsomely, on a scale proportionate to his increased means. He
naturally trusted that Mr. Hughes would be more disposed to entrust
his daughter's happiness to his charge when he found that her suitor
was enabled to provide her with a comfortable, if not an elegant home,
and to support her in a sphere of life not very distantly removed from
that in which her father's fortunes and possessions entitled her to be
placed.
Accordingly, he gave notice to the landlord of the ill-fated house
in Penton-place, that he should quit it in the following March;
and accompanied by Miss Hughes, to whom, as he very properly says,
"_of course_" he referred everything, they wandered about the whole
neighbourhood in search of some house that would be more suitable to
them. Penton-street was the St. James's of Pentonville, the Regent's
Park of the City-road, in those days; and here he was fortunate enough
to secure the house No. 37, which was forthwith furnished and fitted
up, agreeably to the taste and direction of Miss Hughes herself.
He had plenty of time to devote to the contemplation of his expected
happiness, and the complete preparation of his new residence, for
Sadler's Wells Theatre was then closed,--the season terminating at that
time at the end of October,--and as he was never wanted at Drury Lane
until Christmas, and not much then, unless they produced a pantomime,
his theatrical avocations were not of a very heavy or burdensome
description.
This year, too, the proprietors of Drury Lane, in pursuance of a
custom to which they had adhered for some years, produced an expensive
pageant instead of a pantomime; an alteration, in Grimaldi's opinion,
very little for the better, if not positively for the worse. It having
been the established custom for many years to produce a pantomime at
Christmas, the public naturally looked for it; and although such pieces
as "Blue Beard," "Feudal Times," "Lodoiska," and others of the same
class, undoubtedly drew money to the house, still it is questionable
whether they were so profitable to the treasury as the pantomimes at
Covent Garden. If we may judge from the result, they certainly were
not, for after several years' trial, during the whole of which time
pantomimes were annually produced at Covent Garden, the Christmas
pantomime was again brought forward at Drury Lane, to the exclusion of
spectacle.
He played in all these pieces, "Blue Beard," and so forth; yet his
parts being of a trifling description, occupied no time in the getting
up, and as he infinitely preferred the company of Miss Hughes to that
of a theatrical audience, he was well pleased. By the end of February,
the whitewashers, carpenters, upholsterers, even the painters, had left
the Penton-street mansion, and there being no pantomime, it seemed a
very eligible period for being married at once.
Grimaldi told Miss Hughes that he thought so: Miss Hughes replied that
he had only to gain her father's consent in the first instance, and
then the day should be fixed without more ado.
This was precisely what the lover was most anxious to avoid, for two
reasons: firstly, because it involved the very probable postponement
of his happiness; and secondly, because the obtaining this consent was
an awkward process. At last he recollected that in consequence of Mr.
Hughes being out of town, it was quite impossible to ask him.
"Very good," said Miss Hughes; "everything happens for the best. I am
sure you would never venture to speak to him on the subject, so you had
far better write. He will not keep you long in suspense, I know, for he
is quite certain to answer your letter by return of post."
Mr. Hughes was then at Exeter; and as it certainly did appear to his
destined son-in-law a much better course to write than to speak, even
if he had been in London, he sat down without delay, and, after various
trials, produced such a letter as he thought would be most likely
to find its way to the father's heart. Miss Hughes approving of the
contents, it was re-read, copied, punctuated, folded, and posted.
Next day the lady was obliged to leave town, to spend a short time with
some friends at Gravesend; and the lover, very much to his annoyance
and regret, was fain to stay behind, and console himself as he best
could, in his mistress's absence, and the absence of a reply from
her father, to which he naturally looked forward with considerable
impatience and anxiety.
Five days passed away, and still no letter came; and poor Grimaldi,
being left to his own fears and apprehensions, was reduced to the most
desperate and dismal forebodings. Having no employment at the theatre,
and nothing to do but to think of his mistress and his letter, he was
almost beside himself with anxiety and suspense. It was with no small
pleasure, then, that he received a note from Miss Hughes, entreating
him to take a trip down to Gravesend in one of the sailing-boats on the
following Sunday, as he could return by the same conveyance on the same
night. Of course he was not slow to avail himself of the invitation;
so he took shipping at the Tower on the morning of the day appointed,
and reached the place of his destination in pretty good time. The only
water communication was by sailing-boats; and as at that time people
were not independent of wind and tide, and everything but steam, the
passengers were quite satisfied to get down when they did.
He found Miss Hughes waiting for him at the landing-place, and getting
into a "tide" coach, they proceeded to Chatham, Miss Hughes informing
him that she had made a confidant of her brother, who was stationed
there, and that they purposed spending the day together.
"And now, Joe," said Miss Hughes, when he had expressed the pleasure
which this arrangement afforded him, "tell me everything that has
happened. What does my father say?"
"My dear," replied Grimaldi, "he says nothing at all; he has not
answered my letter."
"Not answered your letter!" said the lady: "his punctuality is
proverbial."
"So I have always heard," replied Grimaldi: "but so it is; I have not
heard a syllable."
"Then you must write again, Joe," said Miss Hughes, "immediately,
without the least delay. Let me see,--you cannot very well write
to-day, but to-morrow you must not fail: I cannot account for his
silence."
"Nor I," said Grimaldi.
"Unless, indeed," said Miss Hughes, "some extraordinary business has
driven your letter from his memory."
As people always endeavour to believe what they hope, they were not
long in determining that it must be so. Dismissing the subject from
their minds, they spent the day happily, in company with young Mr.
Hughes, and returning to Gravesend in the evening by another tide
coach, Grimaldi was on board the sailing-boat shortly before eleven
o'clock; it being arranged that Miss Hughes was to follow on the next
Saturday.
In the cabin of the boat he found Mr. De Cleve,[21] at that time
treasurer of Sadler's Wells. There are jealousies in theatres, as there
are in courts, ball-rooms, and boarding-schools; and this Mr. De Cleve
was jealous of Grimaldi--not because he stood in his way, for he had
no touch of comedy in his composition, but because he had eclipsed,
and indeed altogether outshone, one Mr. Hartland, "a very clever and
worthy man," says Grimaldi, who was at that time also engaged as a
pantomimic and melodramatic actor at Sadler's Wells. Mr. De Cleve,
thinking for his friends as well as himself, hated Grimaldi most
cordially, and the meeting was consequently by no means an agreeable
one to him; for if he had chanced to set eyes upon Miss Hughes, great
mischief-making and turmoil would be the inevitable consequence.
"In the name of wonder, Grimaldi," said this agreeable character, "what
are you doing here?"
"Going back to London," replied Grimaldi, "as I suppose most of us are."
"That is not what I meant," said De Cleve: "what I meant was, to ask
you what business might have taken you to Gravesend?"
"Oh! no business at all," replied the other; "directly I landed, I went
off by the tide-coach to Chatham."
"Indeed!" said the other.
"Yes," said Grimaldi.
The treasurer looked rather puzzled at this, sufficiently showing by
his manner that he had been hunting about Gravesend all day in search
of the young man. He remained silent a short time, and then said, "I
only asked because I thought you might have had a dinner engagement at
Gravesend, perhaps,--with a young lady, even. Who knows?"
This little sarcasm on the part of the worthy treasurer convinced
Grimaldi, that having somewhere picked up the information that Miss
Hughes was at Gravesend, and having heard afterwards from Mrs. Lewis,
or somebody at the theatre, that Grimaldi was going to the same place,
he had followed him thither with the amiable intention of playing
the spy, and watching his proceedings. If he had observed the young
people together, his mischievous intentions would have been completely
successful; but the tide-coach had balked him, and Mr. De Cleve's
good-natured arrangements were futile.
Grimaldi laughed in his sleeve as the real state of the case presented
itself to his mind; and feeling well pleased that he had not seen them
together, in the absence of any reply from Mr. De Cleve, he ascended to
the deck, and left the treasurer to his meditations.
Upon the deck, on a green bench with a back to it, and arms besides,
there sat a neighbour, and a neighbour's wife, and the neighbour's
wife's sister, and a very pretty girl, who was the neighbour's wife's
sister's friend. There was just room for one more on the bench, and
they insisted upon Mr. Grimaldi occupying the vacant seat, which he
readily did, for they were remaining on deck to avoid the closeness of
the cabin, and he preferred the cold air of the night to the cold heart
of Mr. De Cleve.
So down he sat next to the pretty friend; and the pretty friend
being wrapped in a very large seaman's coat, it was suggested by the
neighbour, who was a wag in his way, that she ought to lend a bit of it
to Mr. Grimaldi, who looked very cold. After a great deal of blushing
and giggling, the young lady put her left arm through the left arm of
the coat, and Grimaldi put his right arm through the right arm of the
coat, to the great admiration of the whole party, and after the manner
in which they show the giants' coats at the fairs. They sat in this way
during the whole voyage, and Grimaldi always declared that it was a
very comfortable way of travelling, as no doubt it is.
"Laugh away!" he said, as the party gave vent to their delight in
bursts of merriment. "If we had only something here to warm us
internally as well as the great-coat does externally, we would laugh
all night."
"What should you recommend for that purpose?" asked the neighbour.
"Brandy," said the friend.
"Then," rejoined the neighbour, "if you were a harlequin, instead of
a clown, you could not have conjured it up quicker." And with these
words, the neighbour, who was a plump, red-faced, merry fellow, held
up with both hands a large heavy stone bottle, with an inverted
drinking-horn resting on the bung; and having laughed very much at his
own forethought, he set the stone bottle down, and sat himself on the
top of it.
It was the only thing wanting to complete the mirth of the party, and
very merry they were. It was a fine moonlight night, cold, but healthy
and fresh, and it passed pleasantly and quickly away. The day had
broken before they reached Billingsgate-stairs; the stone-bottle was
empty, the neighbour asleep, Grimaldi and the young lady buttoned up in
the great-coat, and the wife and daughter very jocose and good-humoured.
Here they parted: the neighbour's family went home in a hackney-coach,
and Grimaldi, bidding them good-bye, walked away to Gracechurch-street,
not forgetting to thank the young lady for her humanity and compassion.
He had occasion to call at a coach-office in Gracechurch-street;
but finding that it was not yet open (for it was very early), and
not feeling at all fatigued by his journey, he determined to walk
about the city for a couple of hours or so, and then to return to
the coach-office. By so doing, he would pass away the time till the
office opened, gain an opportunity of looking about him in that part
of London, to which he was quite a stranger, and avoid disturbing the
family at home until a more seasonable hour. So he made up his mind to
walk the two hours away, and turned back for that purpose.
FOOTNOTES:
[21] Vincent de Cleve, facetiously nick-named among his associates,
"Polly de Cleve," not from any effeminacy of character or manner, or
his almost intolerable abuse of the King's English by the constant
utterance of the most flagrant cockneyisms, but for his Marplot
qualities, which ever prompted him to pry into everybody's business,
and create by his interference the most vexatious mischief. He was
an odd fish. Talent he had; he was no contemptible composer and
musician, and in his office, as treasurer to the Wells for many
years, strictly honest. Between Sadler's Wells and the Angel was
an old building, immediately opposite Lady Owen's Almshouses, now
also demolished, called Goose Farm; it belonged to Mr. Laycock, the
cow-keeper of Islington; but had ceased to be a farm-house; and was
divided into tenements; the first and second floors were each divided
into two suites of apartments. On the first floor in that next the
Wells, resided John Cawse, the artist, whose daughters subsequently
distinguished themselves as vocalists of no common power, and made
their _début_ in 1820 at Sadler's Wells, where the late Mrs. Cawse was
also an actress.
The suite next the Angel was occupied by the mother and sister of
Charles and Thomas Dibdin; during the management of the Wells by the
former, the sister, a short squab figure, generally the last among the
figurantes, came on among villagers and mobs; but under other lessees
was not employed, and died in Clerkenwell Poor-House. De Cleve occupied
the rooms on the second floor above the Dibdins; but all have ceased to
exist; and Joe, to use a common expression, outlived his enemy. A grave
stone, laid flat, in the churchyard of St. Mary's, Lambeth, marks the
spot where lie buried, Mrs. Frances De Cleve, who died in her thirtieth
year, May 3, 1795; and her husband, the busy meddler, Vincent de Cleve,
who died July 30, 1827, aged 67.