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 900_l._; 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.
[Illustration: 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 500_l._ 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 127,205_l._ 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 12,000_l._ 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 1,000_l._ 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 1,000_l._ 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 3_l._ 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.