Seek out for plants, with signatures,
To quack of universal cures.
In the Spectator, Addison has this observation--"At the first appearance,
that a French quack made in Paris, a boy walked before him, publishing,
with a shrill voice, '_my father cures all sorts of distempers_;' to which
the doctor added, in a grave manner, '_what the boy says is true_.'"
The imposture of James Aymar, to which I have alluded, was of a different
kind. Aymar was an ignorant peasant of Dauphine. He finally confessed
himself to be an impostor, before the Prince of Conde; and the whole
affair is narrated, by the apothecary of the prince, in a _Lettre a M.
L'Abbe, D. L., sur les veritables effets de la baguette de Jaques Aymar
par P. Buissiere; chez Louis Lucas, a Paris, 1694_.
The power of this fellow's wand was not limited, to the discovery of
hidden treasures, or springs of water; nor were his only dupes the lowly
and the ignorant. As I have said, he was detected, and made a full
confession, before the Prince of Conde. The magistrates published an
official account of the imposture; yet such is the energy of the credulous
principle, that M. Vallemont, a man of note, published a treatise "_on the
occult philosophy of the divining wand_;" in which he tries to show, that
Aymar, notwithstanding his mistakes, before the Prince, was really
possessed of all the wonderful power he claimed, of divining with his
wand. The measure of this popular credulity will be better understood,
after perusing the following translation of an extract from the _Mercure
Historique_, for April, 1697, page 440.--"The Prior of the Carthusians
passed through Villeneuve with Aymar, to discover, by the aid of his wand,
some landmarks, that were lost. Just before, a foundling had been left on
the steps of the monastery. Aymar was employed, by the Superior, to find
out the father. Followed by a great crowd, and guided by the indications
of his wand, he went to the village of Comaret, in the County of
Venaissin, and thence to a cottage, where he affirmed the child was born."
Bayle says, on the authority of another letter from M. Buissiere, in 1698,
that Aymar's apparent simplicity, and rustic dialect, and the rapid motion
of his wand went far, to complete the delusion. He was also exceedingly
devout, and never absent from mass, or confession. While he was at Paris,
and before his exposure, the Pythoness, herself, would not have been more
frequently, and zealously consulted, than was this crafty and ignorant
boor, by the Parisians. Fees showered in from all quarters; and he was
summoned, in all directions, to detect thieves; recover lost property;
settle the question of genuine identity, among the relics of _prima facie_
saints, in different churches; and, in truth, no limit was set, by his
innumerable dupes, to the power of his miraculous wand. "I myself," says
M. Buissiere, "saw a simple, young fellow, a silk weaver, who was engaged
to a girl, give Aymar a couple of crowns, to know if she were a virgin."
Joseph Francis Borri flourished, about the middle of the seventeenth
century, and a most complicated scoundrel he was--heresiarch, traitor,
alchymist, and empiric. He had spiritual revelations, of course. He was an
intelligent and audacious liar, and converts came in apace. At his
suggestion, his followers took upon themselves an oath of poverty, and
placed all they possessed in the hands of Borri, who told them he would
take care it should never again interfere with their devotions, but would
be spent in prayers and masses, for their ulcerated souls. The bloodhounds
of the Inquisition were soon upon his track, at the moment he was about to
raise the standard of insurrection in Milan.
He fled to Amsterdam--made capital of his persecution by the Inquisition;
and won the reputation of a great chemist, and wonderful physician. He
then went to Hamburg, and persuaded Queen Christina, to advance him a
large sum of money, to be reimbursed, from the avails of the philosopher's
stone, which Borri was to discover. This trick was clearly worth
repeating. So thought Borri; and he tried it, with still better success,
on his Majesty of Denmark. Still the stone remained undiscovered; and the
thought occurred to Signor Borri, that it might not be amiss, to look for
it, in Turkey. He accordingly removed; but was arrested at Vienna, by the
Pope's agents; and consigned to the prisons of the Inquisition, for life.
His fame, however, had become so omnipotent, that, upon the earnest
application of the Duke d'Etree, he was let loose, to prescribe for that
nobleman, whom the regular physicians had given over. The Duke got well,
and the world gave Borri the credit of the cure. When a poor suffering
mortal is given over, in other words, _let alone_, by half a dozen
doctors--I am speaking now of the regulars, not less than of the
volunteers--he, occasionally, gets well.
A wit replied to a French physician, who was marvelling how a certain Abbe
came to die, since he himself and three other physicians were unremitting,
in their attentions--"_My dear doctor, how could the poor abbe sustain
himself, against you all four?_" The doctors do much as they did of old.
Pliny, lib. xxix. 5, says, of consultations--"_Hinc illae circa aegros
miserae sententiarum concertationes, nullo idem censente ne videatur
accessio alterius. Hinc illa infelicis monumenti inscriptio_, TURBA SE
MEDICORUM PERIISSE." Hence those contemptible consultations, round the
beds of the sick--no one assenting to the opinion of another, lest he
should be deemed his subaltern. Hence the monumental inscription, over the
poor fellow, who was destroyed in this way--KILLED BY A MOB OF DOCTORS!
Who has not seen a fire rekindle, _sua sponte_, after the officious
bellows have, apparently, extinguished the last spark? So, now and then,
the vital spark, stimulated by the _vis medicatrix naturae_ will rekindle
into life and action, after having been well nigh smothered, by all sorts
of complicated efforts to restore it.
This is the _punctum instans_, the very nick of time, for the charlatan:
in he comes, looking insufferably wise, and brim full of sympathetic
indignation. All has been done wrong, of course. While he affects to be
doing everything, he does exactly nothing--stirs up an invisible,
impalpable, infinitessimal, incomprehensible particle, in a little water,
which the patient can neither see, feel, taste, nor smell. Down it goes.
The patient's faith, as to the size of it, rather resembles a cocoanut
than a grain of mustard seed. His confidence in the _new_ doctor is as
gigantic, and as blind, as Polyphemus, after he had been _gouged_, by him
of Ithaca. He plants his galvanic grasp, upon the wrist of the little
doctor, much in the manner of a drowning man, clutching at a full grown
straw. He is absolutely better already. The wife and the little ones look
upon the mountebank, as their preserver from widowhood and orphanage.
"_Dere ish noting_," he says, "_like de leetil doshes_;" and he takes his
leave, regretting, as he closes the door, that his sleeve is not large
enough, to hold the sum total of his laughter. Yet some of these quacks
become _honest men_; and, however surprised at the result, they are
finally unable, to resist the force of the popular outcry, in their own
favor. They almost forget their days of duplicity, and small things--they
arrive, somehow or other, at the conclusion, that, however unexpectedly,
they are great men, and their wild tactics a system. They use longer
words, move into larger houses, and talk of first principles: and all the
practice of a neighborhood finally falls into the hands of Dr. Ninkempaup
or Dr. Pauketpeeker.
Francis Joseph Borri died, in prison, in 1695. Sorbiere in his _Voiage en
Angleterre_, page 158, describes him thus--"He is a cunning blade; a
lusty, dark-complexioned, good-looking fellow, well dressed, and lives at
considerable expense, though not at such a rate, as some suppose; for
eight or ten thousand livres will go a great way at Amsterdam. But a
house, worth 15,000 crowns, in a fine location, five or six footmen, a
French suit of clothes, a treat or two to the ladies, the occasional
refusal of fees, five or six rix dollars distributed, at the proper time
and place among the poor, a spice of insolence in discourse, and sundry
other artifices have made some credulous persons say, that he gave away
handfulls of diamonds, that he had discovered the philosophers stone, and
the universal medicine." When he was in Amsterdam, he appeared in a
splendid equipage, was accosted, by the title of "_your excellence_," and
they talked of marrying him to one of the greatest fortunes.
I have no taste for unsocial pleasures. Will the reader go with me to
Franklin Place--let us take our station near No. 2, and turn our eyes to
the opposite side--let us put back the hand of the world's timekeeper,
some thirty years. A showy chariot, very peculiar, very yellow, and
abundantly supplied with glass, with two tall bay horses, gaudily
harnessed, is driven to the door of the mansion, by a coachman, in livery;
and there it stands; till, after the expiration of an hour, perhaps, the
house door is flung open, and there appears, upon the steps, a tall, dark
visaged, portly personage, in black, who, looking slowly up and down the
avenue, proceeds, with great deliberation, to draw on his yellow, buckskin
gloves. Rings glitter upon his fingers; seals, keys, and safety chain,
upon his person. His beaver, of an unusual form, is exquisitely glossy,
surpassed, by nothing but the polish of his tall suwarrows, surmounted
with black, silk tassels.
He descends to the vehicle--the door is opened, with a bow of profound
reverence, which is scarcely acknowledged, and in he gets, the very fac
simile of a Spanish grandee. The chariot moves off, so very slowly, that
we can easily follow it, on foot--on it goes, up Franklin, and down
Washington, up Court, into Tremont, down School, into Washington, along
Washington, up Winter, and through Park to Beacon Street, where it halts,
before the mansion of some respectable citizen. The occupant alights, and,
leaving his chariot there, proceeds, through obscure and winding ways, to
visit his patients, on foot, in the purlieus of _La Montagne_.
This was no other than the celebrated patentee of the famous bug liquid;
who was forever putting the community on its guard, by admonishing the
pill-taking public, that they _could not be too particular_, for _none
were genuine, unless signed W. T. Conway_.
No. CXIV.
Charity began at home--I speak of Charity Shaw, the famous root and herb
doctress, who was a great blessing to all undertakers, in this city, for
many years--her practice was, at first, purely domestic--she began at
home, in her own household; and, had she ended there, it had fared better,
doubtless, with many, who have received the final attentions of our craft.
The mischief of quackery is negative, as well as positive. Charity could
not be fairly classed with those reckless empirics, who, rather than lose
the sale of a nostrum, will send you directly to the devil, for a dollar:
Charity was kind, though she vaunted herself a little in the newspapers.
She was, now and then, rather severely handled, but she bore all things,
and endured all things, and hoped all things; for, to do her justice, she
was desirous, that her patients should recover: and, if she believed not
all things, her patients did; and therein consisted the negative
mischief--in that stupid credulity, which led them to follow this poor,
ignorant, old woman, and thus prevented them, from applying for relief,
where, if anywhere, in this uncertain world, it may be found--at the
fountains of knowledge and experience. In Charity's day, there were
several root and herb practitioners; but the greatest of these was
Charity.
Herb doctors have, for some two thousand years, attempted to turn back the
tables, upon the faculty--they are a species of _garde mobile_, who have
an old grudge against the _corps regulier_: for they have not forgotten,
that, some two thousand years ago, herb doctors had all things pretty much
in their own way. Two entire books, the twenty-sixth and twenty-seventh of
Pliny's Natural History, are devoted to a consideration of the medicinal
properties of herbs--the twentieth treats of the medicinal properties of
vegetables--the twenty-third and twenty-fourth of the medicinal properties
of roots and barks. Thus, we see, of what importance these simples were
accounted, in the healing art, in that early age. Herbs, barks, and roots
were, and, for ages, had been, the principal _materia medica_, and were
employed, by the different sects--by the Rationalists, of whom Pliny, lib.
xxvi. cap. 6, considers Herophilus the head, though this honor is
ascribed, by Galen, to Hippocrates--the Empirics, or experimentalists--and
the Methodics, who avoided all actions, for _mala praxis_, by adhering to
the rules. Pliny manifestly inclined to herb doctoring. In the chapter,
just now referred to, after alluding to the _verba, garrulitatemque_ of
certain lecturers, he intimates, that they and their pupils had an easy
time of it--_sedere namque his in scholis auditioni operatos gratius erat,
quam ire in solitudines, et quoerere herbas alias aliis diebus anni_--for
it was pleasanter to sit, listening in the lecture-rooms, than to run
about in the fields and woods, culling certain simples, on certain days in
the year.
Herb doctors were destined to be overthrown; and the account, given by
Pliny, in chapters 7, 8 and 9, book xxvi. of the sudden and complete
revolution, in the practice of the healing art, is curious and
interesting.
Asclepiades, of Prusa, in Bythinia, came to Rome, in the time of Pompey
the Great, about one hundred years before Christ, to teach rhetoric; and,
like an impudent hussy, who came to this city, as a cook, from Vermont,
some years ago, and, not succeeding, in that capacity, but hearing, that
wet nurses obtained high wages here, prepared herself, for that lucrative
occupation--so Asclepiades, not succeeding, as a rhetorician, prepared
himself for a doctor. He was ignorant of the whole matter; but a man of
genius; and, as he knew nothing of root and herb practice, he determined
to cut up the whole system root and branch, and substitute one of his
own--_torrenti ac meditata quotidie oratione blandiens omnia abdicavit:
totamque medicinam ad causam revocando, conjecturae fecit_. By the power of
his forcible and preconcerted orations, pronounced from day to day, in a
smooth and persuasive manner, he overthrew the whole; and, bringing back
the science of medicine to cause and effect, he constructed a system of
inference or conjecture. Pliny is not disposed to be altogether pleased
with Asclepiades, though he recounts his merits fairly. He says of
him--_Id solum possumus indignari, unum hominem, e levissima gente, sine
ullis opibus orsum, vectigalis sua causa, repente leges salutis humano
genere dedisse, quas tamen postea abrogavere multi_--at least, we may feel
rather indignant, that one, born among a people, remarkable for their
levity, born also in poverty, toiling for his daily support, should thus
suddenly lay down, for the human race, the laws of health, which,
nevertheless, many rejected afterwards.
Now it seems to me, that Asclepiades was a very clever fellow; and I
think, upon Pliny's own showing, there was more reason, for indignation,
against a people, who had so long tolerated the marvellous absurdities of
the herb system, such as it then was, than against a man, who had the good
sense to perceive, and the courage and perseverance to explode, them. What
there was in the poverty of Asclepiades, or in the character of his
countrymen, to rouse Pliny's indignation, I cannot conceive. Pliny says,
lib. xxvi. cap. 9, after naming several things, which promoted this great
change, in the practice of Physic--_Super omnia adjuvere eum magicae
vanitates, in tantum erectae, ut abrogare herbis fidem cunctis possent_. He
was especially assisted in his efforts, by the excesses, to which the
magical absurdities had been carried, in respect to herbs, so that they
alone were enough to destroy all confidence, in such things.
Pliny proceeds to narrate some of these magical absurdities--the plant
AEthiops, thrown into lakes and rivers, would dry them up--the touch of it
would open everything, that was shut. The Achaemenis, cast among the enemy,
would cause immediate flight. The Latace would ensure plenty. Josephus
also, De Bell, Ind. lib. vii. cap. 25--speaks of an excellent root for
driving out devils.
Pliny says, Asclepiades laid down five important
particulars--_abstinentiam cibi_, _alias vini_, _fricationem corporis_,
_ambulationem_, _gestationes_--abstinence from meat, and, at other times,
from wine, friction of the body, walking, and various kinds of gestation,
on horseback, and otherwise. There were some things, in the old practice,
_nimis anxia et rudia_, too troublesome and coarse, whose rejection
favored the new doctor greatly, _obruendi agros veste sudoresque omni modo
ciendi; nunc corpora ad ignes torrendi_, etc.--smothering the sick in
blankets, and exciting perspiration, by all possible means--roasting them
before fires, &c. Like every other ingenious physician, he had something
pleasant, of his own contriving, to propose--_tum primum pensili
balinearum usu ad infinitum blandientem_--then first came up the
employment of hanging baths, to the infinite delight of the public. These
hanging baths, which Pliny says, lib. ix. 79, were really the invention of
Sergius Orata, were rather supported than suspended--fires were kindled
below--there were different _ahena_, or caldrons, the _caldarium_, and
_frigidarium_. The _corrivatio_ was simply the running together of the
cold and hot water. Annexed was the _laconicum_, or sweating room. The
curious reader may compare the Roman baths with those at Constantinople,
described by Miss Pardoe.
_Alia quoque blandimenta_, says Pliny, _excogitabat, jam suspendendo
lectulos, quorum jactatu aut morbos extenuaret, aut somnos alliceret_. He
excogitated other delights, such as suspended beds, whose motion soothed
the patient, or put him to sleep. The principle here seems pretty
universal, lying at the bottom of all those simple contrivances,
rocking-chairs, cribs, and cradles, swings, hammocks, &c. This is truly
Indian practice--
Rock-a-bye baby upon the tree top,
And, when the wind blows, the cradle will rock.
_Praeterea in quibusdam morbis medendi cruciatus detraxit, ut in anginis
quas curabant in fauces organo demisso. Damnavit merito et vomitiones,
tunc supra modum frequentes._ He also greatly diminished the severity of
former practice, in certain diseases, in quinsies for example, which they
used to cure, with an instrument, introduced into the fauces. He very
properly condemned those vomitings, then frequent, beyond all account.
This refers to the Roman usage, which is almost incomprehensible by us.
Celsus, De Med. lib. i. 3, refers to it, as the practice _eorum, qui
quotidie ejiciendo, vorandi facultatem moliuntur_--of those, who, by
vomiting daily, acquired the faculty of gormandizing. Suetonius says of
the imperial brute, Vitellius, sec. xiii. that he regularly dined, at
three places daily, _facile omnibus sufficiens, vomitandi
consuetudine_--easily enabled to do so, by his custom of vomiting.
Pliny's reflection, upon the success of the new doctor, is very
natural--_quae quum unusquisque semetipsum sibi praestare posse
intelligeret, faventibus cunctis, ut essent vera quae facillima erant,
universum prope humanum genus circumegit in se, non alio modo quam si
coelo emissus advenisset_. When every one saw, that he could apply the
rules for himself, all agreeing that things, which were so very simple,
must certainly be true, he gathered all mankind around him, precisely as
though he had been one, sent from Heaven.
In the following passage, Pliny employs the word, _artificium_, in an
oblique sense. _Trahebat praeterea mentes artifcio mirabili, vinum
promittendo aegris._ He attracted men's minds, by the remarkable _artifice_
of allowing wine to the sick.
During the temperance movement, some eminent physicians have asserted,
that wine was unnecessary, in every case--others have extended their
practice, and increased their popularity, by making their patients as
comfortable, as possible--_while they continued in the flesh_. A German,
who had been very intemperate, joined a total abstinence society, by the
advice of a temperance physician. In a little time the _tormina_ of his
stomach became unbearable. Instead of calling his temperance physician,
who would, probably, have eased the irritation, with a little wormwood, or
opium, he sent for the popular doctor, who told him, at once, that he
wanted brandy--"How much may I take?" inquired the German. "An ounce,
during the forenoon;" replied the doctor. After he had gone, the German
said to his son, "Harman, go, get de measure pook, and zee how mooch be
won ounz." The boy brought the book, and read aloud, eight drachms make
one ounce--the patient sprang half out of bed; and, rubbing his hands,
exclaimed--"dat ish de toctor vor me; I never took more nor voor trams in
a morning, in all my porn days--dat ish de trouble--I zee it now."
No. CXV.
Miss Bungs is dead. It is well to state this fact, lest I should be
suspected of some covert allusion to the living. She firmly believed in
the XXXIX. articles, and in a fortieth--namely--that man is a
fortune-hunter, from his cradle. She often declared, that, sooner than wed
a fortune-hunter, she would die a cruel death--she would die a maid--she
did so, in the full possession of her senses, to the last.
Her entire estate, consisting of sundry shares, in fancy stocks, two
parrots, a monkey, a silver snuff-box, and her paraphernalia, she directed
to be sold; and the avails employed, for the promotion of celibacy, among
the heathen.
Yet it was the opinion of those, who knew her intimately, that Miss Bungs
was, at heart, sufficiently disposed to enter into the holy state of
matrimony, could she have found one pure, disinterested spirit; but,
unfortunately, she was fully persuaded, that every man, who smiled upon
her, and inquired after her health, was "_after her money_." Miss Bungs
was not unwilling to encourage the impression, that she was an object of
particular regard, in certain quarters; and, if a gentleman picked up her
glove, or escorted her across a gutter, she was in the habit of
instituting particular inquiries, among her acquaintances--in strict
confidence of course--in regard to his moral character--ejaculating with a
sigh, that men were so mercenary now-a-days, it was difficult to know who
could be trusted.
Now, this was very wrong, in Miss Bungs. By the English law, if a man or a
woman pretends, falsely, that he or she is married to any person, that
person may libel, in the spiritual court, and obtain an injunction of
silence; and this offence, in the language of the law, is called
_jactitation of marriage_. I can see no reason why an injunction in cases
of _jactitation of courtship_, should not be allowed; for serious evils
may frequently arise, from such unauthorized pretences.
After grave reflection, I am of opinion, that Miss Bungs carried her
opposition to fortune-hunters, beyond the bounds of reason. Let us define
our terms. The party, who marries, only for money, intending, from the
very commencement, to make use of it, for the selfish gratification of
vain, or vicious, propensities--is a fortune-hunter of the very worst
kind. But let us not forget, as we go along, that this field is occupied
by huntresses, as well as by hunters; and that, upon such voyages of
discovery, the cap may be set, as effectually, as the compass.
There is another class, with whom the degree of personal attachment, which
really exists, is too feeble, to resist the combined influence of
selfishness and pride. Such also, I suppose, may be placed in the category
of fortune-hunters. We find an illustration of this, in the case of Mr.
Mewins. After a liberal arrangement had been made, for the young lady, by
her father; Mr. Mewins, having taken a particular fancy to a little, brown
mare, demanded, that it should be thrown into the bargain; and, upon a
positive refusal, the match was broken off. After a couple of years, the
parties accidentally met, at a country ball--Mr. Mewins was quite willing
to renew the engagement--the lady appeared not to have the slightest
recollection of him. "Surely you have not forgotten me," said he--"What
name, sir?" she inquired--"Mewins," he replied; "I had the honor of paying
my addresses to you, about two years ago."--"I remember a person of that
name," she rejoined, "who paid his addresses to my father's brown mare."
In matrimony, wealth is, of course, a very comforting accessory. It
renders an agreeable partner still more so--and it often goes, not a
little way, to balance an unequal bargain. Time and talent may as wisely
be wasted, in pursuit of the philosopher's stone, as of an unmixed good or
evil, on this side the grave. Temper may be mistaken, or it may change;
beauty may fade; but L60,000, well managed, will enable the _happy man or
woman_, to bear up, with tolerable complacency, under the severest trials
of domestic life. What a blessed thing it is, to fall back upon, when one
is compelled to mourn, over the infirmities of the living, or the absence,
of the dead! What a solace!
It was therefore wrong, in Miss Bungs, to designate, as fortune-hunters,
those, of either sex, who have come to the rational conclusion, that money
is essential to the happiness of married life. No man or woman of common
sense, who is poor, will, now-a-days, commit the indiscretion of _falling
in love_, unless with some person of ample possessions.
What, then, is to become of the penniless, and the unpretty! We must adopt
the custom of the ancient Babylonians, introduced about 1433 B. C., by
Atossa, the daughter of Belochus. At a certain season of the year, the
most lovely damsels were assembled, and put up, singly, at auction, to be
purchased, by the _highest_ bidder. The wealthy swains of Babylon poured
forth their wealth, like water; and rivals settled the question, not by
the length of their rapiers, but of their purses. The money, thus
obtained, became the dowry of those, whose personal attractions were not
likely to obtain them husbands. They also were put up, and sold to the
_lowest_ bidder, as the poor were formerly disposed of, in our villages.
Every unattractive maiden, young, old, and of no particular age, was put
up, at a _maximum_, and bestowed on him, who would take her, with the
smallest amount of dowry. It is quite possible, that certain lots may have
been withdrawn.
I rather prefer this practice to that of the Spartans, which prevailed,
about 884 B. C. At an appointed time, the marriageable damsels were
collected, in a hall, perfectly dark; and the young men were sent into the
apartment; walking, evidently, neither by faith nor by sight, but,
literally, feeling their way, and thus selected their helpmates. This is
in perfect keeping with the principle, that love is blind.
The ancient Greeks lived, and multiplied, without marriage. Eusebius, in
the preface to his Chronicon, states, that marriage ceremonies were first
introduced among them, by Cecrops, about 1554 B. C. The Athenians provided
by law, that no unmarried man should be entrusted with public affairs, and
the Lacedemomans passed severe laws against those, who unreasonably
deferred their marriage. It is not easy to reconcile the general policy of
promoting marriages, with the statute, 8 William III., 1695, by which they
were taxed; as they were again, in 1784.
The earliest celebration of marriages, in churches, was ordained by Pope
Innocent III., A. D. 1199. Marriages were forbidden in Lent, A. D. 364,
conforming, perhaps, to the rule of abstinence from flesh.
Fortune-hunting has not always been unaccompanied with violence. Stealing
an heiress was made felony, by 3 Henry VII. 1487, and benefit of clergy
denied, in such cases, by 39 Eliz. 1596. In the first year of George IV.
1820, this offence was made punishable by transportation. In the reign of
William III., Captain Campbell forcibly married Miss Wharton, an heiress.
The marriage was annulled, by act of Parliament, and Sir John Johnston was
hanged, for abetting. In 1827, two brothers and a sister, Edward, William,
and Frances Wakefield, were tried and convicted, for the felonious
abduction of Miss Turner, an heiress, whose marriage with Edward Wakefield
was annulled, by act of Parliament.
No species of fortune-hunter appears so entirely contemptible, as the
wretch, who marries for money, intending to employ it, not for the joint
comfort of the parties, but for the payment of his own arrearages; and who
resorts to the expedient of marriage, not to obtain a wife, but to avoid a
jail. And the exultation is pretty universal, when such a vagabond falls,
himself, into the snare, which he had so deliberately prepared, for
another.
In the fifth volume of the Diary of Samuel Pepys, pages 323, 329 and 330,
Lord Braybrooke has recorded three letters to Pepys, from an extraordinary
scoundrel of this description. The first letter from this man, Sir Samuel
Morland, who seems to have had some employment in the navy, bears date
"Saturday, 19 February, 1686-7." After communicating certain information,
respecting naval affairs, he proceeds, as follows:--
"I would have wayted on you with this account myself, but I presume you
have, ere this time, heard what an unfortunate and fatall accident has
lately befallen me, of which I shall give you an abreviat."
"About three weeks or a month since, being in very great perplexities, and
almost distracted for want of moneys, my private creditors tormenting me
from morning to night, and some of them threatening me with a prison, and
having no positive answer from his Majesty, about the L1300 which the late
Lord Treasurer cutt off from my pension so severely, which left a debt
upon me, which I was utterly unable to pay, there came a certain person to
me, whom I had relieved in a starving condition, and for whom I had done a
thousand kindnesses; who pretended, in gratitude to help me to a wife, who
was a very vertuous, pious, and sweet disposition'd lady, and an heiress,
who had L500 per ann. in land and inheritance, and L4000 in ready money,
with the interest since nine years, besides a mortgage upon L300 per ann.
more, with plate, jewels, &c. The devil himself could not contrive more
probable circumstances than were layd before me; and when I had often a
mind to enquire into the truth, I had no power, believing for certain
reasons, that there were certain charms or witchcraft used upon me; and,
withall, believing it utterly impossible that a person so obliged should
ever be guilty of so black a deed as to betray me in so barbarous a
manner. Besides that, I really believ'd it a blessing from Heaven for my
charity to that person: and I was, about a fortnight since, led as a fool
to the stocks, and married a coachman's daughter not worth a shilling, and
one who, about nine months since, was brought to bed of a bastard; and
thus I am both absolutely ruined, in my fortune and reputation, and must
become a derision to all the world."
"My case is at present in the Spiritual Court, and I presume, that one
word from his Majesty to his Proctor, and Advocate, and Judge, would
procure me speedy justice; if either our old acquaintance or Christian
pity move you, I beg you to put in a kind word for me, and to deliver the
enclosed into the King's own hands, with all convenient speed; for a
criminal bound and going to execution is not in greater agonies than has
been my poor, active soul since this befell me: and I earnestly beg you to
leave in three lines for me with your porter, what answer the King gives
you, and my man shall call for it. A flood of tears blind my eyes, and I
can write no more, but that I am your most humble and poor distressed
servant,