(Vol. v., p. 270.)
I believe more than one of the courts to be haunted by persons who may
have suggested Mr. Dickens's "Little Old Lady." More than twenty years
ago a female of about fifty was a constant attendant on the Court of
Queen's Bench in Banco: I never saw her at a Nisi Prius sitting. She was
meanly but tidily dressed, quiet and unobtrusive in manners, but much
gratified by notice from any barrister. It was said she had been ruined
by a suit, but I could not learn anything authentic about her; though I
several times spoke and listened to her, partly from curiosity and
partly from the pleasure which she showed at being spoken to. Her
thoughts seemed fixed upon the business of the day, and I never
extracted more than, "Will they take motions?--Will _it_ come on
next?--I hope he will bring it on to-day!" but who was "he," or what was
"it," I could not learn; and when I asked, she would pause as if to
think, and pointing to the bench, say, "That's Lord Tenterden." I have
seen her rise, as about to address the court, when the judges were going
out, and look mortified as if she felt neglected. I cannot say when she
disappeared, but I do not remember having seen her for the last eight
years.
I have heard that an old woman frequented Doctors' Commons about seven
years ago. She appeared to listen to the arguments, but was reserved and
mopish, if spoken to. She often threw herself in the way of one of the
leading advocates, and always addressed him in the same words: "Dr.
----, I am _virgo intacta_."
The sailor-looking man described by Charles Lamb lasted a long time. I
remember him in Fleet Street and the Strand when I was boy, and also an
account which appeared in the newspapers of his vigorous resistance when
apprehended as a vagrant; but I cannot fix the dates. I think, however,
it was about 1822. His portrait is in Kirby's _Wonderful and Eccentric
Museum_, vol. i. p. 331. Below it is, "Samuel Horsey, aged fifty-five, a
singular beggar in the streets of London." The date of the engraving is
August 30, 1803. As the accompanying letter-press is not long, I copy
it:
"This person, who has so long past, that is to say, during
nineteen years, attracted the notice of the public, by the
severity of his misfortunes, in the loss of both his legs, and the
singular means by which he removes himself from place to place, by
the help of a wooden seat constructed in the manner of a
rocking-horse, and assisted by a pair of crutches, first met with
his calamity by the falling of a piece of timber from a house at
the lower end of Bow Lane, Cheapside. He is now fifty-five years
of age, and commonly called the King of the Beggars: and as he is
very corpulent, the facility he moves with is very singular. From
his general appearance and complexion, he seems to enjoy a state
of health remarkably good. The frequent obtrusion of a man
naturally stout and well made, but now so miserably mutilated as
he is, having excited the curiosity of great numbers of people
daily passing through the most crowded thoroughfares of the
metropolis, has been the leading motive of this account, and the
striking representation of his person here given."
The likeness is very good. Among the stories told of him, one was that
his ample earnings enabled him to keep two wives, and, what is more, to
keep them from quarrelling. He presided in the evenings at a "cadgers'
club," planted at the head of the table, with a wife on each side. Not
having been present at these meetings I do not ask anybody to believe
this report.