Aged forty-seven, admitted August 6th, 1818. This curious Cambro-Briton
is a native of Cardiff, in Wales. He was formerly confined in Old
Bethlem, and also in a private mad-house at Hoxton; and altogether,
including his residence here, for a period of ten years.
He was originally a labouring-man, but was impressed into the navy.
He was last on board the Salvador del Mundo guard-ship, at Plymouth;
where his insanity first became apparent, and thence was sent to a
mad-house.
He labours under a thorough conviction that he was first confined with
a view to murder him; that both his father and mother were murdered;
and that his sisters were also murdered by the present King, when he
was Prince of Wales. He feels an implacable hostility towards Admiral
Young and General England, who, he says, have conspired against him,
and employed people to kill him. That they told him if he would change
his religion he should become a great man; but that he rejected their
offer, told them that he was brought up by his parents in the fear of
God, and taught to say the Lord’s Prayer in Welsh, and he would “stand
by the Old Books:” (this sage polemic can neither read nor write).
He says, that when he engaged with Admiral Young and General England
to enter the service, he agreed for honest dealing, Christian usage,
kind treatment, and fair play: but he complains that they broke their
agreement with him; and knowing well “that their heads must come off
for it, they have tried to murder him, in order to get him out of the
way.” That he knows to a certainty Government is concerned, and would
readily give him any sum of money he chose to ask, and his release to
boot, if he would only consent to hold his tongue. But no, no: this
he cannot do; for if he did he would sell his soul. He must be a
Shylock: but no, no, that won’t do with him: the two heads! the two
heads! they must come off, and nothing else will satisfy him. “I know,”
says he, with a sly wink, and a cunning leer, “I shall not be here
much longer.” When he goes hence he knows he will be sent to another
place of confinement, but that will be only for a short time; and after
that his business is to be settled. “The two heads! you know, the two
heads! they must come off.” Government, he says, would give him twenty
millions of money to have done with him, and prevent the exposure of
some grand secret which he has conjured up in his own fancy, and looks
extremely knowing and mysterious when he alludes to them. When pressed
to divulge those secrets in great confidence, he explains one of them
to be, that officers of high rank in the navy get their sons and
relatives rated on the ships’ books as midshipmen, as soon as they are
born; that their promotions go regularly on from that time; and that
they may become lieutenants, captains, and even admirals, without ever
joining or seeing the ships on which they are rated.
The other budget of secrets is that unfair practice by which the
officers of the Navy should be appointed to try each other by
court-martial; when it can never be supposed that they, who mess
together, would be hard upon each other. If this is to be, he insists
that the sailors, too, should be tried by their own messmates, instead
of their officers. But, as things go on now, “there is no law, justice,
civil treatment, Christian usage, or fair play, which it was his
agreement to have.”
Another of his secrets applies to the alleged abuses in the
misapplication of provisions, which he will be bound to prove; and so
far from his having any intentions to compromise the business with
them, he would sooner lose his life. “Don’t let them think,” says the
incorruptible Richard, “that they shall stop my mouth for a paltry
bribe of twenty millions!” (then comes a hurricane of blasts, and damns
upon eyes, limbs, and timbers, with appellations not the most delicate
for the objects of his vengeance.) “No,” continues he, “if they were to
give me ten thousand of money I would not make it up with them: for law
and justice I will have, from William Young, and that fellow they call
General England.”
On being told that Admiral Young was dead: “It don’t signify about
that,” continued he, “he must be up and answer for himself; and I will
have his head off.”
His religious notions are of a piece with his other vagaries; for
although he declares his determination “to stand by the Old Books,”
he has never explained the points of doctrine they contain. He has,
however, fixed on Wednesday as his Sabbath, which he keeps with great
strictness. He has seen very little of the world beyond his native
village, and the ship he was on board of: but he believes his own
home in Wales to be the garden of the world; and that at the last day
God Almighty will come to Cardiff, to try all souls for their deeds:
and when he goes to the Town-hall, he will tell him that he is not
particularly obliged to him for his mercy, because he has promised to
be merciful to all men; and why should one man in particular thank him?
He says his prayers every night in Welsh and English; and though his
dialect in the latter is as bad as Briton can utter, he fancies that no
man can excel him in the language.
He partakes a good deal in the fanciful transmutation of persons so
frequent with others; and by a sort of second sight, conceives that he
sees persons totally different from those he looks at.
He says, “that Sir George Tuthill, the physician, was a Jew dealer
in watches, jewellery, and trinkets at Plymouth, and that his name
was Johnson;” by which name he always calls him. He says that “Mr.
Burgess,” one of the governors, “is no other than Buggy Burgess, who
was a parson’s son at Cardiff, but ran away, and turned pirate in
a privateer; obtained a large sum of money, and is now turned fine
gentleman;” and in like manner of several others; probably substituting
some faint traces of personal similitude in his memory for supposed
reality.
With all his vagaries, he is ingenious and industrious. He knits
gloves, stockings, and his own jackets and trowsers, of worsted; and is
constantly employed, either in this occupation, or in amusing himself
with smoaking or playing at hand-ball, which seems in a great measure
to divert and relieve his mind.
A favourite ornament of his person is his long pigtail cue, which he
attends to as scrupulously as to his Wednesday-Sabbath. His supposed
grievances and imprisonment, as he terms it, form a source of much
occasional discontent; and on those occasions he is for addressing
petitions to the Lords of the Admiralty: but as he cannot write
himself, Dashwood Jones Effingham, or some other man of genius, acts as
his secretary.
A copy of one of these petitions is subjoined as a specimen:
“The Right Honourable the Lords of Admiralty.
“My Lords: I am very sorry I cannot honour your Lordships with
pleasure, but I am obliged to honour your Lordships with torments.
“I beg to inform your Lordships I have been confined in New Bethlem
upwards of four years. After repeated applications to the physician,
Sir George Tuthil, he has invariably replied, in answer to me, he did
not consider me either sick or mad: I then inquired of Sir George why
I was detained; in reply thereto, he said he was not the cause of my
detention; on the contrary, he should have a pleasure in discharging
me. I asked him to inform me who was the cause of my being detained:
he said your Lordships.
“Permit me to inform your Lordships, being at a loss how I could make
appeal to your Lordships, being under confinement, where I could only
look at high walls and bars of iron; I was induced to write several
letters to the Governors of this house, who sit in Committee every
Thursday, to none of which have I received any reply; yet I have
reason to think they have been forwarded to your Lordships. The last
letter laid before them, last Thursday, when two of the gentlemen of
the Committee came round the house, I inquired if they had read my
letter: they answered in the affirmative; I then asked what answer
they could give me: they said I must make application to the Lords
of Admiralty, which is the cause of the present trouble to your
Lordships.
“I deem it necessary to inform your Lordships, I cannot write myself.
I should feel great satisfaction in receiving a reply to this; when
I should be better enabled to write further to your Lordships, as my
sufferings have been upwards of eleven years’ duration, consequently
it is impossible to give your Lordships a particular statement of my
hardships in this letter.
“I beg permission also to inform your Lordships I was a pressed man
to his late Majesty’s sea-service, and would wish my Admiral,[11]
Captain, and Officers to come before me, to make their complaints, if
any, against me; and it is also reasonable I should have justice so
far done me, as to be informed why and for what cause I have been so
long detained in several places of confinement.
“It is equally just and right the Governor of His Majesty’s Royal
Hospital at Stonehouse, together with all the officers under him
should appear, and make what complaints, if any, they have against me.
“Likewise I judge it needful the Commissioner of His Majesty’s
Dock-Yard, Dock at Hamoaze, the Master of Tenders, also the man who
came with him in a boat on board His Majesty’s ship the St. Salvadore
del Munda, by night, when lying at anchor at Hamoaze. My agreement
with the Admiral, Captain, and all the Officers concerned with me
from commencement of my ill-usage, was that I should have law and
justice, Christian usage, and honourable terms; yet I can with truth
affirm, I have experienced no other than barbarity and cruelty.”
* * * * *
N.B. This letter was written in July 1822; but he would allow it to
bear no date, as “that, he supposed, would injure his cause;” nor
would he allow his name to be put to it, as “that would ruin him for
ever:” so the Lords of the Admiralty were left to find out by their own
learning who it came from. Lloyd was the writer; great cunning was used
in getting it up, and several sheets of paper written over, before a
perfect letter could be completed; but to none of those petitions will
he allow his name to be annexed; for he says “that is all they want,
and he will never indulge them.”
This man is reported to have been in other places of confinement a
dangerous maniac, and was almost constantly in irons; but he has been
here under no restraint whatever, nor has he ever done any mischief.
He is noisy at times, and sings a good deal, in his way; but when the
idea of his ill-usages gets uppermost, he then begins an extempore sea
song, in a cramp and resentful manner. The following favourite verse
may serve as a specimen of his lyric poetry:
“There is one thing more that I do crave,
That his body may never lay in the grave:
May he be damned, and overboard be thrown,
The sharks have his body and the devil have his soul;
The sharks have his body and the devil have his soul.”
The last, a chorus line, he roars with a stentorian voice that makes
the whole building echo; while his eyes roll, with a mixed expression
of resentment and self-complacency.
His conduct in general is very quiet and regular: but no man so mad
ever seemed less conscious of derangement.