A few weeks after his recovery he attended Pontefract races in his

carriage, drawn by four splendid mules, and no one on the course could

keep up with him when he put the mules to their speed. Sir John Ramsden

was in a carriage drawn by two fine bays, of which he was not a little

proud, and he challenged Jemmy to a trial of speed round the course. Off

they started, Sir John taking the lead for a short time, but Jemmy's

mules, with their light carriage, soon overtook Sir John's bays, and

came in a hundred yards before them. It was the most popular race run

that year on the Pontefract course.

He also constructed for himself a pair of wings, and by an ingenious

contrivance was able to spread the feathers. But his attempt to fly from

the mast-top of a boat in the Humber failed. He fell into the water, and

was drawn out covered with mud, amidst the laughter of a crowd which had

assembled to witness his flight.

Jemmy's eccentricities had reached the ears of King George III., and he

expressed a desire to see him. Lord Beaumont promised to do his best to

persuade Hirst to come to town, but at the same time he told the King

that if Jemmy took it into his head to decline the invitation, no power

on earth could move him.

Accordingly, Lord Beaumont wrote to Jemmy, stating his Majesty's wish to

see him, and urging him to come as soon as possible. At the end of the

week Lord Beaumont received the following reply:--

"MY LORD,--I have received thy letter stating his Majesty's wish to

see me. What does his Majesty wish to see me for? I'm nothing

related to him, and I owe him nothing that I know of; so I can't

conceive what he wants with me. I suspect thou hast been telling

him what queer clothes I wear, and such like. Well, thou may tell

his Majesty that I am very busy just now training an otter to fish;

but I'll contrive to come in the course of a month or so, as I

should like to see London."

Lord Beaumont showed Jemmy's letter to George III., who laughed when he

read it, and said, "He seems to think more of seeing London than of the

honour of introduction to royalty."

Jemmy spent a month in getting ready for his journey to London; he had

an entirely new suit made--a new lambskin hat of the old dimensions, an

otter-skin coat lined with red flannel and turned up with scarlet cloth,

a waistcoat of the skins of drakes' necks, list breeches, red and white

striped stockings, and shoes with large silver buckles on them. His

carriage was repainted in the most lively colours; and when all was

ready he adjured Sarah to look well after his favourites during his

absence, and then drove off at a slashing pace, drawn by his four

Andalusians.

He created a sensation in every town and village he passed through.

People turned out of their shops and houses to see him.

He put up at Doncaster at the King's Head Inn. The hostler there

exhibited Jemmy's carriage and mules at a penny charge for admission,

and realised something handsome thereby. The landlord also reaped a good

harvest, for the inn was crowded as long as Jemmy stayed there.

Jemmy reached London in three days. Lord Beaumont's butler had been sent

some time before to Tottenham, with orders to wait there till Mr. Hirst

made his appearance and then to conduct him to his Lordship's town

residence.

On Jemmy arriving at Tottenham, the butler informed him of his

lordship's orders, and then rode off before him to show the way. The

news spread through London, and the streets were crowded, so that the

carriage could hardly make its way through the numbers of people whom

the report of the arrival of an eccentric Yorkshireman on a visit to the

King had drawn together. Jemmy, who was immensely conceited, was greatly

delighted with this ovation. On reaching Lord Beaumont's house he was

welcomed by his Lordship with great cordiality; and after lunch was

driven out in Lord Beaumont's carriage to see the sights of London. The

King was informed of Jemmy's arrival, and his Majesty expressed his wish

that Jemmy should be presented to him on the morrow. Lord Beaumont

vainly endeavoured to press on the strange fellow the obligations of the

Court ceremonial. "D---- your forms and ceremonies!" said he,

impatiently. "If the King don't like my ways, he must let it alone. I

did not seek his acquaintance--he must take me as I am. I am a plain

Yorkshireman, and if the King asks me a question in a plain manner, I

shall answer him in a plain way, so that he or anybody else may

understand. I can do no more."

Lord Beaumont saw it was in vain to press him further in the matter,

and therefore left him to follow his own course.

On the following morning, Jemmy set out in his wickerwork carriage, in

all the glory of drakes' necks, lambs' wool, and otter skins turned up

with scarlet, to visit the King. But if the streets were crowded the day

before, on this occasion they were crammed, for the news had spread that

Jemmy was going in state to Court.

Lord Beaumont and a couple of Horse Guards accompanied the carriage, and

with difficulty made a passage for Jemmy; and all along the streets the

windows were filled with heads.

When Jemmy alighted he was conducted by Lord Beaumont into an

ante-chamber, to await the King's pleasure. The Duke of Devonshire was

also waiting there for an audience with His Majesty, and on seeing this

extraordinary fellow enter, he burst into a fit of uncontrollable

laughter, and exclaimed, "'Pon my honour! what a scarecrow. Why,

Beaumont, where did you pick up that ridiculous object? Why have you

brought such a merry-andrew here?" Jemmy listened patiently for a moment

only to the Duke's exclamations and laughter, and then seizing a tumbler

of water that stood on the sideboard, he dashed it in the Duke's face,

exclaiming that the poor man was in hysterics: he ran to the Duke,

loosed his cravat, pulled his nose, and shook him, pretending that he

was using his best endeavours to bring him round from his fit.

At that moment a messenger came to announce that his Majesty wished to

see Lord Beaumont and Mr. Hirst; so Jemmy was ushered into the royal

presence. But instead of kneeling and kissing the hand that was extended

to him in silence, he caught it and gave it a hearty shake, saying,

"Eh! I'm glad to see thee such a plain owd chap. If thou ever comes to

Rawcliffe, step in and give me a visit. I can give thee some rare good

wine, or a sup of brandy and water at ony time."

The court was convulsed with laughter, and King George III. could hardly

contain himself. However, he did not laugh out openly, but with courtesy

maintained his gravity, and asked Jemmy how he liked London. "I like it

weel enow," answered the oddity; "but I hadn't ony idea afore yesterday

and to-day there were sae mony fools in it."

"Indeed!" said the King; "you pay us a very poor compliment, Mr. Hirst.

I did not know that we were so badly off for wisdom in London. Perhaps

that is an article in such demand in Yorkshire that there is none to

spare for cockneys."

"Why, I'll thee how it were," said Jemmy. "When I come into t' town

yesterday, and to thy house to-day, the streets were full o' crowds of

folks gathered as thick as owt to see me, just a cause I happ'd to be

dressed different frae other folk; and as I were waiting out yonder i'

t' fore-chamber, there were one o' thy sarvants burst out laughing at

me; but I reckon I spoiled his ruffled shirt for him and punished his

impertinence."

The King asked an explanation of Lord Beaumont, and when he had heard

what Jemmy had done to the Duke of Devonshire, the King laughed

heartily.

"Did you think to find London streets paved with gold?" asked the King.

"Mebbe I did," answered Jemmy; "but I've found out I was mista'en. It's

nowt but a mucky place, after all."

"A Yorkshire bite," said his Majesty.

"Aye," answered Jemmy, "but I'm no a bite for thee."

After some further conversation the King and his attendants descended

to look at Jemmy's carriage, and he showed the clock for marking the

distance he travelled; the King was interested with this, and praised it

as an ingenious contrivance. Jemmy then showed him the place he had made

for the reception of his wine when he travelled, but which was then

empty. His Majesty immediately ordered it to be filled with bottles from

the royal cellar.

As Jemmy was taking leave of the King he heard a young nobleman say to

another, "What an old fool that is to wear such a hat; it is three times

as large as is necessary."

Jemmy turned sharply upon him and said: "I'll tell thee what, young

chap, folks don't always have things aboot 'em that's necessary, or his

Majesty could dispense varry weel wi' thee."

Lord Beaumont gave an entertainment at which Jemmy was present, and

danced with a niece of his host. He danced very well, and was very

popular; all the evening he was surrounded by a knot of young ladies and

gentlemen who did their best to draw him out. But it was dangerous game,

for those who attempted to play jokes on him generally got the worst of

it. A young man present asked Jemmy to procure him a suit of clothes

like his own, as he wanted them to attend a masquerade in. Jemmy asked

in what character he wished to appear.

"Oh, as a clown, of course," was the answer.

"Nay, then," said Jemmy, "thou'st nowt to do but go just as thou art;

nobbudy'll mistake thee for owt else."

"You have got your answer," said Lord Beaumont's niece, laughing; "I

hope you are satisfied with it."

During his stay in London, Jemmy visited the Court of Chancery, and

whilst Lord Beaumont was talking to a friend, a barrister in wig and

gown passing by stopped, and staring at Jemmy, said, "Holloa, my man,

what lunatic asylum have you escaped from, eh?"

"Bless me!" exclaimed Jemmy, catching Lord Beaumont's arm; "sithere,

yonder's an owd woman i' her nightdress that's tummled out o' bed into

an ink-pot, and is crawling aboot. Let's get a mop and clean her."

After spending a week in the metropolis, he returned home much delighted

with his visit, which furnished him with topics of conversation for a

long time.

Sarah, his old housekeeper, falling ill, and being unable to work, Jemmy

engaged the services of a young woman from Snaith to wait upon him, and

she so accommodated herself to Jemmy's whims, that she soon became a

great favourite with him. He would not, however, allow followers about

the house; and as Mary had a sweetheart, the meetings between them had

to be carried on surreptitiously.

However, one day whilst Jemmy was hunting, his bull tripped in jumping a

fence, and fell, with Jemmy's leg under him, which was broken with

compound fracture.

This invalided him for some while. He had a block-tackle fixed to a hook

in the ceiling of the room, and a sling made for his leg to rest in,

fastened to the lower end, and whenever he wished to alter the position

of his leg, he hoisted it up or let it down with the tackle.

During his illness the restraint of his observant eye was off Mary, and

the sweetheart had opportunities of visiting her. One night, when Jemmy

was somewhat recovered, he was sitting in the corner of his garden

enjoying a pipe of tobacco, when he saw a man jump over the wall into

the garden and make his way to the kitchen window, then rap with his

fingers against the glass. Mary came out to him, and they spent some

time in conversation together, and when they parted he promised to

return and see her the following night.

Jemmy heard every word that had been said, and he sat chuckling to

himself, and muttered, "So thou'lt come again to-morrow night, wilt

thou? I'll learn thee to come poaching on my preserves."

Next morning, very early, Jemmy rose and dug a hole, four or five feet

deep and six or seven feet long, just under that part of the garden wall

where the sweetheart had clambered over the night before, and covered it

all over with thin laths and brown paper, and then sprinkled mould over

it, so that it had all the appearance of solid earth. A small stream of

water ran through his garden into the river. Jemmy cut a small grip from

it to the hole he had dug, and filled the hole with water; then choked

the grip up and went into his house, laughing to himself at what would

probably happen that night.

Stationing himself at nightfall in the garden where he could not be

seen, he had not long to wait before he saw a head rising above the

wall, then the body of a man, and in another moment the expectant lover

had cleared the wall, and dropped on the covering of the pitfall. The

laths and brown paper yielded to his weight, and he plunged up to his

neck in water. The unfortunate young man screamed with fright, and Jemmy

and Mary rushed to the spot.

"Holloa, my man! what's the matter? What art a' doing i' yond water-pit?

Hast a' come to steal my apples and pears?"

Then turning to Mary, he asked if she knew him. The poor girl hesitated,

but at last confessed that the young man was her sweetheart. "Well,

then," said Jemmy, "help him out and get him into t' house, and let us

change his clothes, for I reckon he's all over muck."

The young man was brought in dripping like a water-rat.

"Now, then," said Jemmy, "thou mun have a dry suit. Which wilt a'

have--a pair o' my list breeches and rabbit-skin coat, or my old

housekeeper's petticoats and gown?"

The young man ungallantly chose the former, thinking if he must be made

ridiculous before the eyes of Mary, he would be less so in male than

female attire. Jemmy gave him a glass of hot brandy-and-water, kept him

talking by the kitchen fire till his clothes were dried, and then

dismissed him with permission to come to the house openly, and visit

Mary as often as he liked. The young fellow became in time a great

favourite with the old man, and when he married Mary, Jemmy gave him £50

to start life with.

Jemmy took it into his head to make himself a coffin, for he said he was

getting old, and did not know how soon he might require one, and

therefore it was best to be ready. It took him a month to construct it.

It had folding-doors instead of a lid, and two panes of glass in each

door; and he fitted the inside with shelves for a cupboard, saying that

he might as well turn it to some use whilst he was alive, and then fixed

it upright in the corner of his sitting-room. Twelve months after, he

had a second coffin made on the same model, but better, and with some

improvements, by a joiner at Snaith, which cost him £12. "He always

wished people to believe that he made it himself; but this was not the

case, for the person that made it declared to us that Jemmy enjoined him

not to divulge who had made it during his lifetime."[14] Inside the

coffin he placed a handle connected with a bell outside, so that, as he

said, if he wanted anything when in his grave--shaving-water, sherry, or

his boots--he would ring the bell for his servant to bring them to him.

He bought a sloop, which he called "The Bull," and made a voyage in her

once as far as Boston; but he was so sick during the passage that he

could never after be persuaded to set foot on her again. "Nay, nay,"

said he, "a yard of dry land is worth a mile of water."

Otter-hunting on the marshes between Rawcliffe and Goole was one of his

favourite pastimes. He kept a small pack of otter-hounds for the

purpose.

One day, when out with three dogs, near where Tunbridge House now

stands, the dogs started an otter and gave him chase. He made for a

drain, and there being plenty of water in it, he dived several times.

The dogs followed him in the water, and Jemmy ran along the edge waiting

for him. When the otter came out close to him, Jemmy struck at him, but

missed his aim and fell, owing to the mud being slippery. The otter

immediately seized him by the leg, and succeeded in dragging him into

the water before the hounds could come to his assistance. A favourite

dog, named Sancho, dived, and seizing the otter by the throat, forced it

to release Jemmy's leg, and he reached the bank greatly shaken and

exhausted. He fortunately wore that day a thick pair of leather boots,

which prevented the teeth of the otter from cutting his flesh. The other

dogs had dived to the assistance of Sancho, and they brought the otter

to the bank, where Jemmy clubbed it. It was the largest otter that he

had ever caught, and he had the skin tanned. He kept it for two or three

years, and then made a present of it to a hair-dresser who used to

attend and shave him.

As he was returning one night about eight o'clock from Howden, where he

had been to the bank to draw some money, he was attacked by a couple of

footpads, who probably knew where he had been. One seized the bridle of

his bull, and the other took hold of Jemmy's arm and demanded his money.

Jemmy suddenly drew a pistol from his pocket and fired it--according to

his own account--full in the man's face, then struck spurs into the bull

and galloped home. After getting assistance, he returned to the place

where he had been stopped, but could find no trace of the persons who

had attempted to rob him.

With the assistance of the captain of his sloop, Jemmy rigged some sails

to his carriage, and after a few trials of the new contrivance in the

lanes about Rawcliffe, he set off one day to Pontefract with all sail

set. Having a fair wind he went at a dashing speed. When he reached the

town every one turned out to see the wonderful ship that sailed on dry

land.

But when Jemmy reached the first cross-street a puff of wind caught him

sideways, upset the carriage, and flung Jemmy through the window of a

draper's shop, smashing several panes.

The crowd that followed speedily righted the carriage and extricated

Jemmy, who paid for the damage he had done, and led the way to the

nearest tavern, where he treated the whole crowd with ale. This bounty

naturally elicited great enthusiasm, which exhibited itself in prolonged

cheers, to Jemmy's great delight, for he was one of the most conceited

of men.

The authorities having intimated to him that he would not be allowed to

sail back through the streets, the crowd yoked themselves to the

carriage, and drew him triumphantly out of the town, and would have

dragged him half way to Rawcliffe had not a favourable wind sprung up,

when Jemmy spread his sails again, and was blown out of sight of the

crowd with expedition. He reached home without any further mishap.

A friend writes to me:--"I remember Jemmy Hirst well coming to Doncaster

races in his wretched turn-out, and with a bag of nuts, which he always

brought with him for a scramble. He was not a very reputable individual,

and must have been, I fancy, half-witted. He was wont to issue flash

notes on the 'Bank of Rawcliffe,' meaning the river bank, for five

farthings; and as these bore a great resemblance to the notes issued by

a banking firm in Doncaster, he was able to deceive many people with

them."

Among other accomplishments, Jemmy played the fiddle tolerably well. In

winter he would collect all the boys and girls of Rawcliffe at his house

in the evenings, once a week at least, when he would play the fiddle for

them to dance to. At nine o'clock punctually he rang a bell and

dismissed them. He never would allow them to remain a minute longer.

They were sent away with buns, simnel-cake, or apples.

On another evening of the week he would have all the old women to tea,

but he would allow no men in to have tea with him on these occasions.

They were invited to come in later, and then dancing and singing began,

which continued till nine, when he would dismiss them with a glass of

rum or gin each.

On the evenings that he wished the children to come he blew a horn

thrice at his door, and six blasts of the horn assembled the old people.

In his old age, Jemmy was frequently laid up with gout, when he amused

himself with the composition of doggerel verses, mostly about himself.

They were contemptible productions, but his vanity made him suppose that

he was a poet. He got these rhymes printed, and sold them for a penny to

his numerous visitors, and as sometimes on a Sunday he had three or four

hundred people to see him, he realised a good sum--enough to keep him

for the week--from this source.

But besides selling his verses, Jemmy used to make money by showing his

coffin to visitors. He would induce them to enter the largest one, which

was contrived to close upon any one inside, and hold him fast as a

prisoner till released from the outside. No one once within was

suffered to escape without payment--men were charged a penny, women one

of their garters. In this way Jemmy accumulated hundreds of garters,

which he tied to his chair. They were of all sorts, from a piece of silk

down to a bit of whip-cord. He used to say that he could always tell a

woman's character by her garter.

His old housekeeper, Sarah, after a tedious illness, died, and then

Jemmy would not suffer any one to attend him except the wife of the

captain of his sloop, "The Bull," who used to live in the house with him

when her husband was at sea. All his pets were sold off, except a fox

which he called Charley, that was chained in the back-yard; and his

pointer pigs were converted into bacon and eaten.

During the last few years of his life Jemmy was confined a great deal

within doors, and the neighbouring gentry used very often to visit him

for the sake of old times; but he never would tolerate a visit from a

clergyman. He had no religion whatever, and very little morality either.

No one ever saw him inside a church or chapel, or got him to enter on

religious conversation.

He was visited one day when he was visibly declining by Lord and Lady

Wharncliffe; and the latter, on his swearing at the twinges of his gout,

gently reproved him, pained to see how utterly indifferent he seemed to

the future. "Mr. Hirst," said her Ladyship, "you should not swear; you

really ought to make some preparation for death."

"Haven't I, my lady?" asked Jemmy. "I've had my coffin made these ten

years."

It was in vain that Lady Wharncliffe endeavoured to get him into a

serious turn; he turned off all her remarks with a bantering reply.

Jemmy was subject to temporary fits of insanity, in one of which he

stripped himself stark naked and ran all round Rawcliffe. Fortunately

it was night, so that there were not many people abroad; but he nearly

frightened one young fellow out of his wits as he came bounding upon him

in the moonlight, round a corner. The cries of this man brought people

to his assistance, and they ran after Jemmy and caught him as he was

stepping into a boat with the purpose of ferrying himself across the

river, his mind in this disordered condition returning to the event of

his youth, when he rowed across to meet his poor Mary. They brought him,

not without trouble, to his house, and put him to bed. What made it the

more remarkable was, that he had been confined to his bed all day with

gout, and could scarcely move a limb.

Jemmy died on October 29th, 1829, at the age of ninety-one. By his will

he left £12 to be given to twelve old maids for carrying him to his

grave, £5 for a bagpiper from Aberdeen to play before him alternately

with a fiddler to whom he also bequeathed £5, as he was borne to the

churchyard.

The executors had some trouble in carrying out his wishes. The rector of

Rawcliffe protested against the music being played on the occasion; but

eventually a compromise was effected, and the piper was alone allowed to

head the funeral to church, playing sacred music. Sacred music on a

Scottish bagpipe!

Long before the funeral started for the church hundreds of spectators

had collected in front of the house. Everything being in readiness, the

procession moved off--the neighbouring gentry and farmers on horseback,

followed by the piper; next came the coffin, carried by six of the old

maids and two men, the other six of the old maids bearing the pall. The

piper played a psalm tune; but as soon as ever the funeral was over, the

fiddler met the piper at the church gates, and they struck up the tune

of "Owre the hills and far awa'," followed by the crowd to Jemmy's late

residence, where they received their money and were dismissed.

FOOTNOTES:

[13] "The Life and Adventures of J. Hirst." Hepworth, Knottingly (n.d.)

Another Life published at Pontefract.

[14] "Life and Adventures of James Hirst," Knottingley: Hepworth (n.d.)

THE TRAGEDY OF BENINGBROUGH HALL.

In 1670, Beningbrough Hall, a fine Elizabethan red-brick mansion, stood

in a park near the junction of the Ouse and Nidd. The old house has been

pulled down, and replaced by an edifice neat and commodious, as the

guide-books would say, and we need say no more.

Yorkshire Oddities, Incidents, and Strange Events · 第 14 / 29 段