The economy and parsimony of the Rev. Morgan Jones, late curate of
Blewbury, a parish about six miles from Wallingford, were almost beyond
credibility; he having outdone, in many instances, the celebrated Elwes,
of Marcham.
For many of the last years of Mr. Jones’s ministerial labours, he had no
servant to attend any of his domestic concerns; and he never had even
the assistance of a female within his doors for the last twelve years.
The offices of housemaid, chamber-maid, cook, and scullion, and even
most part of his washing and mending, were performed by himself; he was
frequently known to beg needles and thread at some of the farm-houses,
to tack together his tattered garments, at which, from practice, he had
become very expert. He was curate of Blewbury upwards of forty-three
years; and the same hat and coat served him for his every-day dress
during the whole of that period. The brim of his hat had, on one side,
(by much handling,) been worn off quite to the crown, but on coming one
day from the hamlet of Upton across the fields, he luckily met with an
old left-off hat, stuck up for a scarecrow. He immediately secured the
prize, and with some tar-twine, substituted as thread, and a piece of
the brim, quite repaired the deficiencies of his beloved old one, and
ever after wore it in common, although the old one was of a russet
brown, and the new brim nearly as black as jet. His coat, when he first
came from Ashton Keyns in 1781, was a surtout much the worse for wear;
after some time he had it turned inside out, and made up into a common
one. Whenever it became rent or torn, it was as speedily tacked together
with his own hands: at length pieces fell out and were lost, and, as he
found it necessary, he cut pieces off the tail to make good the upper
part, until the coat was reduced to a jacket, stuck about with patches
of his own applying. In this hat and coat, when at home on working days,
he was constantly decorated, but he never wore it abroad or before
strangers, except he forgot himself, as he several times had been much
vexed at the ridicule his grotesque appearance had excited when seen by
those with whom he was not much acquainted. This extraordinary coat (or
more properly jacket) is now in the possession of one of the
parishioners, and prized as a curiosity. His stockings were washed and
mended by himself, and some of them had scarcely a vestige of the
original worsted. He had a great store of new shirts, which had never
been worn, but for many years his stock became reduced to one in use;
his parsimony would not permit him to have this washed more than once in
two or three months, for which he reluctantly paid a poor woman
fourpence. He always slept without his shirt, that it might not want
washing too often, and by that means be worn out; and he always went
without one while it was washed, and very frequently at other times.
This solitary shirt he mended himself, and as fast as it required to be
patched in the body he ingeniously supplied it by cutting off the tail;
but, as nothing will last for ever, by this constant clipping it
unfortunately became too short to reach down his small-clothes. This, of
course, was a sad disaster, and there was some fear least one of the
new ones _must_ be brought into use; but, after a diligent search, he
fortunately found in one of his drawers the top part of a shirt with a
frill on, which had probably lain by ever since his youthful and more
gay days. This with his usual sagacity, he tacked on, to the tail of the
old one, with the frill downwards, and it was thus worn until the day
before he left Blewbury. Latterly his memory became impaired. He several
times forgot to change his dress, and was more than once seen at the
burial of a corpse dressed in this ludicrous and curious manner, with
scarcely a button on any part of his clothes, but tied together in
various parts with string. In this state he was by strangers mistaken
for a beggar, and barely escaped being offered their charity.
His diet was as singular as his dress, for he cooked his pot only once a
week, which was always on a Sunday. For his subsistence he purchased but
three articles, which he denominated two necessaries and a luxury:--the
necessaries were bread and bacon, the luxury was tea. For many years his
weekly allowance of bread was half a gallon per week; and in the season,
when his garden produced fruit, or when he once or twice a week procured
a meal at his neighbours’, his half-gallon loaf lasted him a day or two
of the following week; so that in five weeks he often had no more than
four half-gallon loaves. He was also equally abstemious in his other two
articles. He frequently ate with his parishioners; yet for the last ten
years there was but a solitary instance of a person eating with him in
return, and that a particular friend, who obtained only a bit of bread
with much difficulty and importunity. For the last fifteen years there
was never within his doors any kind of spirits, beer, butcher’s meat,
butter, sugar, lard, cheese, or milk; nor any niceties, of which he was
particularly fond when they came free of expense, but which he could
never find the heart to purchase. His beverage was cold water; and at
morning and evening weak tea, without milk or sugar.
However cold the weather, he seldom had a fire, except to cook with, and
that was so small that it might easily have been hid under a half-gallon
measure. He was often seen roving the churchyard to pick up bits of
stick, or busily lopping his shrubs or fruit-trees to make this fire,
while his woodhouse was crammed with wood and coal, which he could not
prevail upon himself to use. In very cold weather he would frequently
get by some of his neighbours’ fires to warm his shivering limbs; and,
when evening came, retire to bed for warmth, but generally without a
candle, as he allowed himself only the small bits left of those provided
for divine service in the church by the parish.
He was never known to keep dog, cat, or any other living creature: and
it is certain the whole expenses of his house did not amount to half a
crown a week for the last twenty years; and, as the fees exceeded that
sum, he always saved the whole of his yearly salary, which never was
more than fifty pounds per annum. By constantly placing this sum in the
funds, and the interest, with about thirty pounds per annum more, (the
rent of two small estates left by some relations,) he, in the course of
forty-three years, amassed many thousand pounds, as his bankers, Messrs.
Child and Co., of Fleet-street, can testify.
In his youthful days he made free with the good things of this life; and
when he first came to Blewbury, he for some time boarded with a person
by the week, and during that time was quite corpulent: but, as soon as
he boarded and lived by himself, his parsimony overcame his appetite, so
that at last he became reduced almost to a living skeleton. He was
always an early riser, being seldom in bed after break of day; and, like
all other early risers, he enjoyed an excellent state of health; so that
for the long space of forty-three years he omitted preaching only two
Sundays.
His industry was such, that he composed with his own hand upwards of one
thousand sermons; but for the last few years his hand became tremulous,
and he wrote but little; he therefore only made alterations and
additions to his former discourses, and this generally on the back of
old marriage licenses, or across old letters, as it would have been
nearly death to him to have purchased paper. His sermons were usually
plain and practical, and his funeral discourses were generally admired;
but the fear of being noticed, and the dread of expense, was an absolute
prohibition to his sending any thing to the press, although he was fully
capable, being well skilled in the English and Latin languages. The
expense of a penny in the postage of a letter has been known to deprive
him of a night’s rest! and yet, at times, pounds did not grieve him. He
was a regular and liberal subscriber to the Bible, Missionary, and the
other societies for the propagation of the Gospel and the conversion of
the Jews; and more than once he was generous enough to give a pound or
two to assist a distressed fellow-creature.
Although very fond of ale, he spent only one sixpence on that liquor
during the forty-three years he was curate of Blewbury; but it must be
confessed he used to partake of it too freely when he could have it
without cost, until about ten years ago, when at a neighbour’s wedding,
having taken too much of this his favourite beverage, it was noticed and
talked of by some of the persons present. Being hurt by this, he made a
vow never more to taste a drop of that or any other strong liquor; and
his promise he scrupulously and honestly kept, although contrary to his
natural desires, and exposed to many temptations.[358]
[358] Devizes Gazette, Sept. 1827.
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